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keeksandgigz · 1 year ago

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the love witch

modern!eddie munson x fem!witchy!reader

summary: Eddie Munson is obsessed with his girlfriend. Hell, he's not even sure how he was able to get you interested in him in the first place. Despite him not really believing in your witchy practices, he's incredibly supportive, but that doesn't come without his cheeky digs. He agrees to a tarot reading for shits and giggles. You don't like that he doesn't take it seriously.

cw: no y/n, reader's nickname is 'witchy' , talk of the occult, wiccan practices, description of r's clothing, but no body description, reader has female anatomy, oral (F receiving), face sitting, sub!Eddie, dom!Reader, choking, slight biting, dirty talk, honorifics, unprotected piv (pls don't do that), ending leans towards the whole witchy vibe

word count: 4.8k

this and all my works are 18+ minors do NOT interact

Eddie Munson is one lucky motherfucker.

Living in a small studio apartment in the Haight-Ashbury of San Francisco, which he got a damn good price on.

He works at one of the many vintage record stores in the neighborhood, which pulsates with raw musical energy, almost as if he steps in the 70s every time he gets out of the front door of his apartment building.

Sometimes he just sits on his fire escape to fuck around with his guitar, inspired by the smells of incense coming from the crystal shops, the music coming from the vintage clothing stores and the pungent smell of lingering weed at all hours of the day.

And with the shaggy, long, brown curls, bullet belt and chains, his black cutoff band t- shirts and heavy lace up boots, he seems to fit right in- for the first time in his life.

Next to his record store there is one of the many crystal shops on the high street, a tiny little nook he always walks by on the way to work and snickers to himself. There’s no way people believe in all that.

He stops doing that once he meets you.

Eddie Munson is one lucky motherfucker because he crosses paths with you.

He meets you while he is on his lunch break, using those thirty minutes of peace to walk around and usually pick up some prerolls from the dispensary a couple buildings down, or he lingers in front of the guitar store on the other side of the street, ogling at a B.C. Rich or an Ibanez, spending his break in there, fucking around with a cool amp.

He meets you on an off day. A day where he doesn't feel like walking around, so he just stands in front of his store smoking a cigarette. You're walking a longtime client out of the crystal shop next door.

“Thank you for that dried lavender, Janice! I’ll set aside some of that incense for you when we get the shipment” he hears you say. He turns around, snickers at your words while Janice passes in front of him, disappearing in the Saturday afternoon crowd.

“Something funny?” you ask. Your voice feels smooth like honey wine. He turns around, and suddenly he doesn't feel like snickering anymore.

You look so pretty, the kind of pretty that is almost otherworldly. Like you could’ve come up in his head while planning a DnD campaign. Purple bell sleeve top, a long, black, flowy skirt and lace- up boots. Dressed like his own elven high priestess.

He realizes he’d been staring at you for a good silent minute. He nervously breaks eye contact to put out his cigarette on the sole of his Docs.

“Sorry– heh, just don’t really believe in all that stuff” he says, shrugging. In doing that, his evidently too- short shirt rides up, exposing a sliver of the skin of his tummy, which doesn’t go unnoticed to you.

You lean on the doorframe of the store “What’s your name again?” you ask, a feline smile creeping on your lips.

He swallows “I um- haven’t told you my- It’s Edward- Eddie!” he corrects himself, you got him flustered “Nobody calls me Edward” he remarks.

His stammer makes you smile, like he's a wounded puppy dog.

“Alright Edward Eddie, see you around” and with that you disappear back into the store.

It takes Eddie a week to learn your name, asking the owner of the crystal shop you work at with no luck, then running into Janice a week later, who kindly tells him your name and then raves about you for a good ten minutes. Quite the hypewoman.

It takes Eddie another two weeks to ask you out on a date. You're wearing a long mauvish dress under a white cardigan when he sees you walk into the store. Your hair is pulled back from your face and he swears he sees stars in your eyes.

You say yes and agree to meet at a coffee shop, and by the end of the day, he asks you for a second date. And then a third, and a fourth, and by the arrival of fall, Eddie Munson has a girlfriend.

Eddie Munson is obsessed with his girlfriend.

He even jokes with his friends that his witch girlfriend put a spell on him. Made him drink a love potion, because he can't justify him being so obsessed with you.

Another thing he can't justify is you actually liking him. Sometimes he still needs to pinch himself to make sure it's not all a joke.

A pretty girl that looks like she's straight out of his DnD fantasies is dating him? There's no way shit like that happens to Edward Munson.

Although his apartment is right above the record shop, which means sneaking away for a quickie whenever you guys have matched up work schedules, he loves your apartment.

Twenty minutes away from Haight- Ashbury, in Twin Peaks, there lies your apartment. In an old building from the sixties or seventies, you have it decorated with tapestries and sun- catchers and rugs and pillows and cushions. It's a joy for Eddie's senses.

And with dating you, came Circe, your black cat who seems to have taken an almost immediate liking to Eddie.

Your apartment always smells like incense and candles, a smell you bring with you wherever you go. A smell Eddie loves. There are plants hanging from the ceiling and a big purple couch in the living room.

Everything is antique, lucky finds from thrift stores or flea markets. The table, chairs. The bookcases that hold your witchy books and your crystals.

The first time he comes over he picks one up. A carnelian.

"So, these pretty rocks are supposed to... what?" he asks, toying with every bit and bob on your bookshelf.

"They're crystals, Eddie. And each different one has a purpose. That one you're holding is a carnelian" you say, pouring him a cup of loose- leaf herbal tea, and pointing at the crystal with your nose.

"Okay, and what's it do?" he asks, toying with the smooth surface and going to sit on the ground next to you. He blows on his tea and takes a sip. He isn't a tea enjoyer, but for you he could be.

"Well, a lot of things, but primarily carnelians help boost sexual energy-" you get interrupted by Eddie sputtering out his tea. Some of it lands on you, which causes you to let out a shriek.

The ridiculousness of the situation is both endearing and hilarious. The poor guy probably didn't expect you being so blunt about your use of crystals to aid your sex life.

A giggle escapes you while Eddie tinges a deep shade of crimson from the embarrassment. He shakily sets down the teacup and saucer.

"Shi-shit sorry, lemme help you clean it up" he says, scrambling for the napkins on the coffee table to clean his mess up.

"You got some on me, Eddie" you say as you move your hair from your face to let him clean up the spit- out tea from your cheek.

"Oh my god, sorry lemme get that" he repeats, flushed.

He's shaky in reaching for the napkin to wipe your skin, afraid that he might have ruined his shot at dating you just because he cannot keep his mouth shut.

"It's honestly not a big deal, Ed. It was just funny for the most part" you smile at him, reaching your hand to lay his head on your shoulder. He breathes again.

Once he's calmed down he continues his curious interview.

"So what, do you put it up your pussy or something?" The idea of it makes Eddie's blood run slightly hotter. You laugh.

He blushes at your reaction, feeling slightly embarrassed once he registers what he had just said.

A sheepish "sorry" escapes his lips.

"No, no it's fine" you chuckle "not exactly. You just kinda charge them and set intentions. Then you can take it with you on, like, a date, if you wanna hope for something more" you say. He becomes very aware of his hard- on when you say that.

There is a thick sense of expectation in the air once those words leave your mouth. It could be the thick incense smoke floating around the room, or it could be the way you're looking at him like you want to eat him whole. Your faces get closer.

"I brought one with me today, actually" you admit. And he has never taken his shirt off so fast in his life.

So every time you hang out, he carries a piece if carnelian in his pocket, in hopes to repeat what happened at your apartment.

With time, he learns to carry a rose quartz with him, too.

Soon after, you begin gifting him crystals and bracelets to carry with him. He likes his black tourmaline beaded bracelet the best.

"It's for protection" you had said. It's just very metal to him.

He never really believes in it, but it's sweet, seeing you show up to his apartment with little colorful rocks to put on his windowsill. You teach him how to recharge them and set intentions, but after the second or third time he just can't be bothered.

He quickly learns it's not just pretty rocks you're interested in. You're, like, a full- fledged witch. Hence, the nickname 'witchy' he'd given you.

You ask him for the time and place of his birth. He scrambles to text his uncle Wayne to ask if he remembers what time he's born.

After a couple days of searching, Wayne comes across Elizabeth Munson's old diary. Indianapolis, Indiana, December 21st, 1997 at 3:47 AM.

Eddie Munson has a birth chart.

Sagittarius sun, Scorpio moon, Aries rising.

Whatever that means.

You try to explain it to him, but to no avail. He doesn't really care much for the stars. Except the ones in your eyes.

He swears he can see them twinkle every time you're laying on your brocade rug in the candle lit living room. He learns you don't really use your couch, rather, you just lay on the floor, among a pile of pillows.

Sometimes you're watching TV together. You're sat in between his legs, leaning against his chest, while Circe lays on your lap. And you look at his palms, tracing the fine lines and ridges of his calloused hands.

"You have lines on the top of your hand" you whisper, kissing his fingers.

He blows the cigarette smoke out the open window, careful not to make your house smell.

"Yeah, no shit. We all have 'em, witchy" he places a kiss to the crown of your head.

"No, look right here" you say, tracing the faint lines right where his callouses are "lines like this means you're gonna have a long life" you kiss that spot on his hand. Coarse, but warm.

"Thank fuck, imagine if i just got hit by a cable car tomorrow?" he chuckles, going back to watching TV.

You trace a deep line that goes across the palm of his hand, you smile to yourself.

"Whatcha smilin' about, witchy?" he says, eyes still glued on the TV.

"You have a double heart line. Means you love a lot" you turn and give him a smile. One of those that make your eyes sparkle in the candlelight.

"If I have a double heart line, does that mean I love you more?" he asks, sickly sweet. He cringes at himself for swearing he wasn't going to be that guy, but when you look at him like he just hung the moon for you, he can allow himself to be disgustingly sappy.

You think about it, because he does have a point, but you don't want to make him win this two- month long game you've been playing, so instead you take his palm once more.

"Look, Ed" you say, pointing at a random prominent line "this line tells me you're an asshole" you laugh, as he pinches your sides and you try to squirm away, but his hands are holding you firmly while planting sloppy kisses everywhere he could reach.

Cheek, neck, shoulder. He inhales the curve between your neck and shoulder, and you swear your feel a bit of tongue poke out between his lips. Then he stops.

And you feel it. Deeply seated at the bottom of your back, pressing against the exposed skin between your shirt and pants.

Eddie loves the way you smell, intoxicated by the smell of lavender incense and some kind of berry perfume you wear.

He's convinced that perfume is actually just a pheromone concentrate, because he cannot stop the blood rushing to his dick everytime he catches a whiff of the sweet berries, nestled in the crook of your neck, behind your ear.

"And where's the line that tells me I'm gonna get a kiss?" Eddie asks, voice low and gravelly, a voice that fills you with need, makes your breath falter from your lungs, replacing it with water. But you kiss him nonetheless, and maybe him getting a kiss is written in the stars, after all.

He softly grabs your hair as he slips his tongue in your mouth. Honey- wine whimpers falling from your lips, as you try and get Circe off your lap and in literally any other room. The cat seems to be unbothered.

"Ed... she doesn't want to move" you whine, high pitched voice expressing annoyance, but also overwhelmed at how cute your cat is.

"She's the biggest cockblocker in history" he mutters annoyed, you laugh. A groan leaves his mouth.

"Leave her alone she's just a baby! Us having sex tonight just wasn't in the stars" you shrug, light and airy as you go back to leaning on his chest and petting Circe.

Fuck the stars. He huffs, accepting his fate

He waits for you outside of the shop when he's not working. Guitar case slung around his shoulders, so he can practice at yours, he picks you up and you take the train to your apartment.

"How was work today, witchy?" he asks, roping a hand around your shoulders and giving you a tender kiss on your head.

"Meh, a. bunch of wannabe Tiktok witches, a bunch of old ladies booking tarot readings and threatening to leave bad reviews because I told them their husband is cheating on them or something" you shrug getting on the bus "Janice came, though, she brought me some jasmine flowers so I can make love tea" you say, sitting down. He sits next to you.

You take out the small satchel of dried jasmine flowers, taking in the sweet scent of citrusy flowers.

"Love tea?" he asks "that what you give me when I come over to your apartment every time?" he dips his nose in the satchel, giving it a sniff.

"Yeah, you wish" you laugh "just peppermint tea. Don't want you accusing me I put a love spell on you" Eddie smiles and lays your head on his shoulder while you play with the tassels of your bag, letting you close your eyes for the twenty minutes of the train ride.

Once you're home he slings the guitar case off his shoulders and takes it out, sitting at the stools of your breakfast counter, while you empty the contents of your bag.

Herbs, oils and a new card deck.

"So, what do you need to do now?" he asks, pulling out his phone, looking for guitar tabs to practice on.

"'kay, so" you begin "I need to make tea blend, then putting stuff together for this new project I'm working on, and then break out this new deck I got from work" you say, lost in the mysticism of your to- do list.

Sometimes he finds it funny that the stuff you have to worry about is totally otherworldly to what he usually worries about.

He watches you break out the mortar and pestle while you measure a teaspoon of dried rosebuds, a teaspoon of dried lavender buds, a teaspoon of jasmine and a pinch of cinnamon. He mindlessly plays a couple chords from a song he heard at the record shop.

"What's the cinnamon for?" he asks, pointing at the jar.

"Spicing things up? Cinnamon is a spice, so could be. I'm trying out this new recipe" you say, grinding the flowers together.

"So what you're saying" he begins, looking up from his guitar "is that you're making sex tea" and the feline grin plastered on your face is enough to make you wanna smack him in the head.

"This is not sex tea, Edward" you interject sternly while pouring the contents of the mortar in a new jar.

You light an incense stick, a rose infused one, to set your intentions for this batch, then putting it to rest on your windowsill for the night.

"What are you doing, witchy?" he asks, following your gaze as you set down the jar.

"It's for the moon. Charges the tea" you say, nonchalantly "can you pass me that deck on the counter, please?" you sit on the carpet legs crossed, while Eddie reaches for the card deck and tosses it at you. You catch it.

He sets down his guitar against the counter to goes to stand in front of you as you take the tarot cards out of the deck and start shuffling them.

"What's that baby?" he asks, he swears he can never stop learning from you.

"My new tarot deck, I need to break it out. Want me to give you a reading?" you ask, hoping he'll say yes.

He truly thinks about it, because he doesn't believe in any of this stuff, but saying no to you and watching your eyes darken with sadness is something he doesn't want to put himself through.

He is a weak, weak man.

He shrugs. "Alright then" he says, sitting down on one of the cushy pink pillows on the floor of your apartment "gimme a reading, you little witch"

Your ringed hands shuffle the gold filigree cards.

"I'm gonna do a regular spread, 'kay? Just past, present, future" you look at him, and he swears he sees your eyes twinkling again in the light of the glass lamp on the side table.

You fan out the cards on the carpet and let him pick three cards.

He's reluctant about this, all he really wants is to cook dinner together and spend the evening with you.

You spread the three cards out and unveil the first one.

"Okay, so that's The Empress. Means you have a significant female figure in your life. It usually represents feminine beauty, abundance" you say, explaining it to him.

"You got some abundance, alright" he huffs a laugh, quickly silenced by a deathly stare. You didn't like it when he made fun of what you liked. You roll your eyes at him.

"Sorry, witchy. Keep going" he smiles, like he's about to crack another joke.

"Yeah, okay." you flip the middle card "what luck. You got the lovers" you say, unenthusiastically.

Eddie's eyes light up at the possibility of a joke "Is that the card that tells me I'm getting some sick pussy in the next five minutes?" he asks, his tone makes you want to throw the empty box of cards at his head.

"It looks like you're not taking it seriously, so what's the point" you go to stand up, but he stops you.

"Sorry, baby, please don't leave. I'm enjoying this, Sorry, I won't make any more jokes, I promise" he pleads, and a wicked idea sparks in your head. He sounds really pretty when he begs.

You let out an annoyed groan as you sit back down and you unveil the last card, his future.

Ace of wands. Sex really was in his cards tonight.

"What's that, baby?" he asks.

"Ace of wands. Looks like you're gonna get some 'sick pussy' after all, Munson. Lie down." You command.

He flushes red. "Huh?" you reach under your long skirt to remove your panties.

"I said lie down, I'm giving you what the cards said" you stare at him, expectation in your eyes as he lays down on the brocade carpet, unsure if he should feel afraid or like the luckiest motherfucker alive.

"Better put in the work, pretty boy" you say, crawling on top of him, he looks at you, eyes blown as you lift your skirt, climbing the length of his body. You reach a resting place right on top of his mouth.

It takes him a second to register that you're sitting on his face, and his tongue darts out of his open mouth, to shyly have a taste.

"C'mon now, Eddie, where is the passion? You seemed really passionate about cracking jokes earlier, didn't you?" you cooed, holding up your shirt to look at his eyes, twinkling and darkened as his tongue begins to lap up the length of your pussy.

He gets the hang of it as your hips begin to grind on his face, his tongue darting in and out of your hole as his nose bumps deliciously against your clit.

"Mmm fuck" you gasp as you raise your hips to let him breathe, but he just pulls you down harder. A gasp escapes your mouth as the sound of your moans and Eddie's slurping fills the room.

Even he hears it, because you can see his eyes roll to the back of his head as a resounding hum escapes his lips, vibrating against you, wet and sensitive.

A whine leaves your mouth as you begin to get more desperate, grabbing a handful of his hair, grinding your hips harder against his tongue.

"Doing so good for me, Ed." you say in a feeble attempt to keep the reins controlled, but his tongue works magic on you, making your brain turn to mush.

"There you go don't stop, don't you dare fucking stop" you command, and his tongue flicks against your clit, catching it between his teeth to begin to suck at it.

A mewl leaves your lips, feeling the familiar warmth in your belly begin to form as you pull harder on his hair, moans becoming more high pitched and strained as Eddie makes quick work of his tongue on you.

"'mgonna cum on your face, you want that?" you ask, a rhetorical question, because of course he wants you to gush all over him.

And so you do. You come with a silent scream, riding the orgasm out with the last few snaps of your hips, as your breathing stills and your vision goes white.

Eddie's also panting like a dog under you, aching in his pants for you to make him cum.

You get off his mouth, his chin coated with your fluids as he gathers them on his fingers and sticks them in his mouth. You can't help but mutter a "good boy" as you reach for the belt of his pants.

"Sit up" you command, as he goes to straighten his back and lean against your purple couch.

You take off his shirt "I'm gonna ride you, yeah?" he looks at you like you've just discovered that aliens are real.

"God, yes please, please" he says, looking up at you as you unzip your top off, and you swear his eyes grow bigger at the sight of your chest, your bra still on. A longing sigh leaves his mouth.

You unbutton his jeans and lower them to his mid thigh along with his boxers as his cock slaps against his tummy. He hisses at the feeling as he watches you align yourself on top of it.

"You want it, Ed?" you question, an aura of cool, calm control exuding from you.

He whines. "Please, I want it so bad. Please put it in" he begs, and you've never realized how pretty his voice sounded when begging. Whiny and high pitched, nasal, almost as if he were about to cry. A prayer for you to fulfill him, make him whole.

Like he is nothing without you.

Is that what it felt like for him to see you crying on his cock every night? A rush of power washes over you, as you motion to sink down on him, but quickly going back up.

He lets out a whiny cry, a bratty child without his candy.

"Uh- huh. Beg me to fuck you, Ed" you say. You swear you can feel him shiver, his cock jumping from underneath your skirt.

"F-fuck, please. Please fuck me. Please my love, my witch, my high priestess" he rambles, your hand creeps up his thick neck, wrapping around it "fuck mmm please, I'll do anything. I'll give you everything" a frenzied speech, his words speed up at the feeling of your nails scratching the skin of his neck.

He'd let you sacrifice him to the devil if you asked him.

Feeling his pulse point with your nails as you begin to squeeze the sides of it, a needy gasp escapes the pretty boy's mouth.

Flushed a pretty red, sweat clinging to the base of his neck and forehead, hair curling and sticking to his feverish skin as you begin to sink down on him.

Inch by inch, slowly feeling him fill you up, as a quiet "oh" escapes you once you've taken all of him.

His breath is quick and labored, quiet pleas rolling out of the sweetness of his tongue, where the taste of you lingers. The love potion you'd been administering him all along.

Eddie Munson is not a religious guy, but if he needs to pray to his goddess to get you to fuck him he'll do it.

But you start moving. A slow, feline movement of your back, almost as if you and Circe were the same creature, a shapeshifter from another world. A goddess, an empress of his body and mind. He was wrapped around your finger.

Your hands tighten around his neck as you grind yourself down on him, he whimpers.

"Mmmm, so big" you mutter against his ear, biting his lobe. And everything you do makes him whine and buck himself deeper inside you, hitting the spongy walls deep inside you, needing more of you. Needing you to swallow him whole.

And you comply, raising your hips and lowering them, bouncing yourself on him as if you were only using him to chase your own pleasure. The thought of it makes Eddie shiver and moan, a strangled sound coming out of his constricted throat.

He hopes your hand leaves a mark on his neck, so people know he's yours. So people know that the witch next door spelled him and he is now in love with her. He never wants to get away from her.

"You- you're so good" he whispers, hips rising and falling on his cock, head lolling as you feel yourself get close again.

"Yeah, baby? Thank me, then. Thank your goddess for making you feel so good" you command, and his hands travel through every inch of your body, feeling every ridge and crease and bump. Wanting to feel you, wanting to worship you.

"F-fuck, thank you, thank you, thank you." a prayer to his goddess, for making him feel so good. "Please more, I- I'm so-"

"You're close aren't you?" you coo, cradling the back of his head with your free hand. Making him look at you.

"'M so close, please let me let me let me please" he begins to chant, too far gone from the feeling of your nails digging on the sides of his neck, scratching his sweaty scalp, tongue tracing the outline of his lips as quick and labored breaths escape him.

"C'mon, cum for me" you whisper in his ear, letting go of his neck and latching your lips onto him, leaving a few purple bruises on his milky skin.

You feel him spill inside you with a whine, shivering, while you ride him for all he is, chasing your own release.

You follow him soon after, biting down on his shoulder. The taste of his sweaty skin lingering on your tongue.

You stay clung to him for a few minutes after, quiet and panting as he revels in the post- orgasmic feeling you've just given him.

"Never thought I would've been the submissive type" he huffs out with a laugh as you climb off of him.

"Well, you're welcome. Gonna go have a milk bath, be right back" you stand, reveling in the feeling of his spent spilling out of you.

He hears the shower turn on and as he's getting dressed, Circe comes to nuzzle on his lap.

He raises an eyebrow.

Where has she been the whole time? The rooms of your apartment were all open when you got back. She was probably just taking a nap in your bed.

He shrugs as he delivers a couple pets to her head.

Meanwhile in the bathroom, a spell book is suspended mid air as you look a spell to get rid of a hickey that Eddie had left on your neck.

mini taglist: @strangerstilinski, @stuckonthefiction, @elegantkoalapaper, @gravedigginbbydoll, @eddiesxangel, @reidsbtch, @bangaveragewhitewine, @chaoticharrington, @hideoutside, @monstxrteeth, @the-local-pendeja, @thornsnvultures, @strangerfreaks, @unverifiedmeatsuit, @strangerfreaks, @starlitlakes, @thebejeweledwatercat, @aphrogeneias, @chrrymunson, @amira0303, @paradise-summertime, @onegirlmanytales, @piecsesrising, @feralamdtiredrat, @m0llygunn , @angel-upon, @lavendermunson, @cowboylikemunson

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evanpeterswhoresblog · 10 months ago

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Innocence (pt. 2)

Remus Lupin x f!reader

warnings: smut, protected p in v, oral (female receiving), fingering, loss of virginity, making out, underage smoking, underage drinking, slight innocence/ corruption kink, lmk if i missed any :)

summary: remus’s obsession with your purity ring gets worse, even after he finally gets it off your finger…

word count: 3.6k

a/n: ok so for anyone wondering when i wrote this i was thinking of the remus drawn by likeafunerall because omggg they draw him so good. let me know what you guys think ofc sorry if it’s not as good as the first part, i sorta rushed to get this out smh. but i’m so in love with remus hahaha

~~~

“Remus we shouldn’t be doing this...”

“Then tell me to stop.”

“I... fuck.”

Remus couldn’t help the smirk that took over his face. He finally had you in a spot he’d fantasized about countless times, he wasn’t going to let it go so easily. It was simple really. You were pressed against a wall, and he was on his knees in front of you. He wished he could see the look on your face, you must’ve been blushing hard, your soft eyes squeezed shut as you tried to deny yourself the pleasure your body craved. Unfortunately, your skirt was over his head and prevented him from seeing your pretty face as he ate you out.

It had been a few weeks since the first time you let him touch you, and it would be an understatement to say he enjoyed it. He was obsessed with it. He was obsessed with you. With every encounter the two of you shared it was like a part of your innocence was taken away and given to him. You were still far more innocent than anyone else in the year, without a doubt. But ever so slowly you were losing that innocence, and it drove Remus mad.

What else drove him mad was just how needy you became. You’d seek him out almost daily for some sort of touch. Whether it was for you, for him, or both of you, you wanted it. And you wanted it badly. Though the two of you agreed to keep what went on a secret from the rest of your friends, you sometimes were not the best at subtle hints. You would whisper to him how much you needed him and that was it. Who was he to deny you anyway? A lot changed in a short time, except for one thing.

The ring.

That stupid gold band remained on your finger through all of it. However, Remus would never say anything about it. He would never pressure you to go further, no matter how much he wished to. Because, despite the circumstances that brought the two of you together, he really did care about you. You were funny, sweet, and incredibly kind. What was there not to like? Your beauty spoke for itself, as did your inexperience. He would wait for you however long, or if you decided you never wanted to go all the way he wouldn’t care. You had more control over him than you knew.

“Rem...”

Your voice brought him back to reality. He hadn’t realized how through his thoughts he kept going. You were practically dripping; your arousal covered his chin. Without a second thought, he wet two of his fingers and gently thrust them inside you, only adding to the shakiness of your legs.

When you were done, he was quick to pull his head from under your skirt and look up at you. As he imagined, your face was bright red. But instead of your eyes being shut as they typically were, you looked down at him. There was a wildness in your eyes that he hadn’t seen before, like a mixture of confidence and something else he couldn’t name. It entranced him.

“You’re mad,” you mumbled as you began to fix your skirt and panties.

Remus chuckled. “Yeah, a bit.” He stood, not looking away from you for even a second. “But a lot for you.”

You smiled and looked away, your shyness returning. “Sure. So do you want to go back first or shall I?”

“You can, I have to go to the library anyway,” he answered. He also had to wait a few minutes for his boner to go away, but he wasn’t going to tell you that.

“Alright.” You ran your fingers through your hair and smoothened your uniform. “Do I look normal?”

“You look beautiful,” he said. He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “You are beautiful.”

You were clearly flustered at his compliment, it was adorable. “Um thank you, I’ll um see you later then yeah?”

“Yeah, see you later,” he replied.

You gave him one last smile before exiting the closet, checking both ways before doing so. Remus leaned against the wall and sighed. He really was starting to like you, and he didn’t know if that was a good thing. Relationships were never of much interest to him, he always thought they took too much effort and time away from things that actually mattered. You already consumed most of his thoughts, and you took up a decent amount of his time. For once, he didn’t know what to make of the situation. Except for one thing.

The closer the two of you got, the closer he was to getting that ring off your finger.

A smile formed on his lips.

~~~

One afternoon as the two of you sat in History of Magic together listening to Professor Binns’s long lecture about one of the Giant wars, Remus decided to test your limits.

You shared a desk in the back, Lily and Mary were in front of you. Remus glanced around the room to make sure no one was paying attention. As he expected, half the class was almost asleep, and the other half was doodling on their notes or whispering with their partners. He then looked at you. Your head was perched up on your hand, your eyes fighting to stay open. It made his chest fill with excitement.

Casually, as if he were doing nothing wrong, he placed one of his hands on your knee. Instantly your eyes opened and turned to him. He pretended not to notice, though he watched your posture change from his peripheral vision. He kept his head forward as he began to slowly creep his hand up your thigh. He moved his hand under your skirt, the feeling of your warm skin a familiar comfort.

“Remus,” you whispered his name like a warning.

As his fingertips brushed against your panties, he turned to you and lifted a finger to his lips, silently telling you to be quiet. Much to his surprise, you didn’t push him away. You only nodded your head and pretended to turn your attention back to the lecture. He slipped his fingers under your panties and found you were already wet.

Dirty girl, he thought as he began to touch you.

~~~

The fateful day came not too long after that day. Truthfully, though he had been trying to build up to it for at least a month or two, he didn’t expect it. When you first told him about what the ring symbolized, you were set on following the rules. Other guys had tried to fuck you before, he knew that, and you told him about that. So, what was different about him? Was it because the two of you had been friends since first year? Or was it because he was simply the first boy who truly tried? You were more of a mystery than he expected.

On the special day or night, Remus snuck you up to his dorm. It was during the celebration of Gryffindor winning the quidditch cup which meant no one would be in the dorm until very late, if ever. The two of you had a few drinks, but not enough to make either of you drunk. He had even convinced you to take a hit from his cigarette. Though you coughed terribly, he still thought you looked very attractive. The air that night felt different, even to him, perhaps that’s why you finally decided you wanted to go all the way.

“Did you see Sirius?” You laughed after the two of you entered the dorm. “He was starting to pour body shots.”

“He’s celebrating, let him live,” he replied with a smile.

You fell back onto his bed, and your laughter continued. He made sure to cast an extra locking spell on the door before he moved to the bed and laid down next to you. You instantly turned on your side, propped yourself up on your elbow, and stared down at him, that wild look back in your eyes.

“What’s your game then Lupin,” you said.

He looked at you confused. “What do you mean?”

“With me. I mean, we’ve known each other since we were eleven, we’ve hung around the same people, but we were never that close. Then suddenly like two months ago, you offered to have sex with me. What’s the reason?” You looked away for a few seconds. “I just... I don’t understand where it came from that’s all.”

Remus Lupin was never one who typically got stumped on a question, but at that moment he was. What was he supposed to say exactly? That he had always wondered why you wore that ring and when he found out what it was for, he wanted to see if he could get it from you? That he had become obsessed with your innocence? Neither would work, he knew that. So, he settled on the third option.

“I dunno, honestly. Why did you take me up on the offer? Or well, part of the offer.”

Once he said the words aloud, he realized how awful they sounded. He observed your face, waiting for a frown to form to indicate that you were upset. But it never came. You only gently smiled and shrugged.

“I dunno either.” You placed your hand on his chest, your left one. He watched you drag your fingers up and down his body, the ring like a painful reminder of what hadn’t happened. “But I think... I think I’m ready to take you up on the full offer.”

His eyes widened. “What?”

“I know I said I didn’t plan on doing that and I’m completely contradicting myself, and I’m going against my family and my religion but I... As you said, people do it all the time and it’s normal. If you don’t want to, I understand,” you answered. Even through the dark, he could see your blush. Merlin how he loved it.

“Why would I not want to? I should be asking you that,” he replied, trying his best to keep a neutral face despite how excited he was.

“It can be intimidating, right? To be someone's first. I don’t want you to think it has to be some special big thing because it’s not. In my head, I used to think it was supposed to be all that but after starting this with you I sorta realized I don’t care for special I just you know... want it to be with you. And don’t feel pressured or anything, I’m not going to ask to be your girlfriend or any of that. I- sorry, I’m saying too much again, aren’t I?”

Remus gave you a gentle smile and took your hand in his. “No, you’re not saying too much. Actually, you’re saying about the right amount. If that’s all what you truly feel, then I’d be more than happy to oblige. But I need to know, you’re positive. What we’ve been doing is wonderful and I enjoy it very much, but if that’s all you want, we can keep it that way. I know it was special to you to wait for marriage and if that’s not the case anymore great, but I need to know you’re sure of it.”

“I am sure, I promise. I’ve been wanting to for a while, but I wanted to be sure and now I am, do you want to?” You asked shyly.

“Very much,” he said with a laugh.

“Then um... we should... right?”

“You want to right now?”

You bit down on your lip for a few seconds and nodded. “Yeah... unless you want to wait.”

“I think we’ve waited long enough,” he replied.

He was quick to kiss you. He was quick to climb over you. He was quick to undress you. But he took his time pleasing you. Despite what you said, he wanted it to be at least a bit special. So, he took his time, making you finish at least twice with his tongue and fingers before even beginning to move on to the other part.

As he slipped a rubber on, he couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty. If you knew the only reason, he started all of this was some sort of challenge, would you have still let him do what he was about to do? Probably not. He had feelings for you then, of course. But it would be a lie to say he did the entire time. His eyes searched your face. You were so sweet, so delicate, so innocent. And he was about to take it away.

“You’re still sure?” He asked as he moved between your legs again. His question had a far deeper meaning than you would ever know.

“Yes,” you answered, your breath still heavy from your last orgasm. “I want you.”

He positioned himself so his tip was touching your entrance. “Alright, but if it’s too much tell me.”

“I will.”

He connected your lips and ever so slowly began to push himself inside you. Even though you were very wet, you were still very tight. Remus’s breath caught in his throat as he entered you. You felt better than any girl he’d ever been with, and he was sure of it. Despite just how good it felt, he paused halfway to make sure you were still all right. Your face was scrunched up, a telltale sign that you were in pain, but you told him to keep going. Still, he double-checked before continuing.

After checking once more when he was fully in, he truly began to shag you. From the moans and whispers that left your lips, he knew you enjoyed it. It made him glad; he didn’t want you to be in pain. You wrapped your legs around his waist and dragged one of your hands down his back, your nails reassuring him just how much you were enjoying it. He laced his hand through your other one and held it against the mattress, the cold feeling of your ring making his lips turn up into a smirk.

What good was it doing then?

“Rem,” you whimpered. “God Rem.”

He looked down at you and noticed you had tears in your eyes. “Do you... want me to slow down?”

“No, please don’t, please don’t,” you replied. “It’s so good.”

“Anything for you love,” he whispered, his breathing hard.

He rested his forehead on yours and continued as long as he could, which wasn’t as long as he would’ve wanted. How was he supposed to last long though? You were so warm, so soft, and extremely tight. The second you began pulsating around him, it was over. He came so hard he lost control of himself, his body collapsed on yours. For a few seconds he swore he couldn’t breathe, his eyes were squeezed shut. But he composed himself as best as he could and moved off you to throw the condom away.

When it was done, he laid back down next to you and pulled his sheets over your naked bodies. The realization hit him. You were no longer a virgin, and he was the reason. A sense of pride filled his chest, but along with that was a feeling of compassion. He wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close.

“How do you feel?” He asked.

“Aside from sore, nothing. It’s so strange, I always thought it would be a monumental moment in my life but it’s not. I’m still the same,” you answered.

He nodded. “I’m glad. So, you don’t feel any regret or anything?”

“No, do you?”

“Of course not, why would I ever regret shagging you?” He laughed.

You softly chuckled and looked up at him, your face red. “Sorry, that was stupid.”

“The sex or what I said?”

“What you said,” you replied. You turned your head and lifted your hands, a strange look on your face. “I suppose it’s time to take this off.”

“Oh, right,” he said, pretending to not care.

You pulled the ring off your finger and turned back to him, a smile on your face. “This belongs to you now, though I think I should take it home with me once summer comes. You know, so my parents don’t freak out.”

Remus took the ring from you, an indescribable feeling forming inside him. After everything, it was finally his. He’d imagined this moment many times, but never did he imagine just how victorious it would feel. The ring belonged to him now, his eyes shifted, and so did you. He placed it on his nightstand and smiled.

“I’m honored, thank you.”

You pressed yourself closer to him. “Out of every boy here Remus you’re the only one who deserves it, thank you.”

He placed a kiss on your head before falling back on the mattress, his eyes finding the ring once again.

He won.

~~~

The next day, despite still having agreed to keep things secret and unofficial, Remus did something that said the opposite of your relationship. He got ready for the day like normal, except for two aspects. One, he had to hold Sirius’s hair back as he threw up in the toilet from his hangover. And two, he wore a chain over his shirt and tie. It wasn’t just a chain though. No. It was a chain that had your ring dangling on it. He wore it like a prize, one for everyone to see.

He made his way down to the great hall for breakfast with a swing in his step and a small smile on his lips despite Sirius’s nagging to go back to bed. When he entered the great hall, he kept a straight face. Even when he caught your wide eyes, even when he heard Mary and Lily’s loud gasps, and even when James started to question him.

“You shagged y/n?” He questioned. “I didn’t even know the two of you were close. When did this happen?”

Remus only shrugged. “I dunno what you mean.”

It wasn’t until later in the day during History of Magic that he finally got a chance to speak to you. He felt a bit off as it was noticeable how uncomfortable you were sitting next to him. Lily and Mary gave him odd looks, almost as if they were disappointed in him. He didn’t care for their opinions though, yours was the only one that mattered.

“Hey,” he said after a minute or two. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” you replied, not turning your head in his direction.

“Are you still sore?” He asked, his voice quieter. He glanced around the room, a few pairs of eyes were on the two of you, but none that had any real value. Still, he found it strange they were looking.

“Yeah, but it’s nothing I can’t handle,” you answered.

He didn’t exactly know what to say. “Great.”

“Yeah.”

An awkward silence filled the air, Remus didn’t know what to make of it. You were acting differently. Were you regretting what happened? He didn’t think you did, at least, you hadn’t made any specific indicators that you did. Suddenly, his eyes fell to the chain around his neck and the realization hit him. You were uncomfortable because of the ring being on display. He felt terrible. Without another thought on it, he tucked the chain under his shirt, the cold temperature of it comforting in a way against his warm chest. Then, he looked back at you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his words genuine.

You bit down on your lip, your eyes still locked on the front of the classroom. “I- I don’t know what you’d have to be sorry for.”

“The ring I... I should’ve asked first before wearing it like this. I’m an idiot. I’m sorry for springing it on you like I did, really y/n I’m sorry for making you feel uncomfortable,” he explained.

“It’s fine.” You shifted. “But now... not everyone knows. And I... I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do. You can tell me how you feel y/n, I would never tell anyone or judge you.” And it was true, he never would. He cared about you, more than he initially thought.

You finally turned your head to look at him. Your expression spoke for itself. You were hurt. It made something in his chest twist. “I suppose that I liked this being just... ours.”

“It still can be.”

“Can it? I mean, it feels like everyone knows now. Lily and Mary know, I assume James, Sirius, and Peter do as well. I hate the attention.” You fumbled with your fingers. “Did you... tell them anything?”

“No, nothing,” he answered. “Have you?”

“I just told Lily and Mary that nothing happened and that it was a coincidence. But... I don’t think they believe me,” you mumbled in a tone they couldn’t possibly have heard.

He licked his lips and sighed. “Then we’ll just both deny it, they can’t prove anything. I’ll keep the ring hidden and we don’t have to keep doing anything.”

Your face changed. “Oh. You don’t... you don’t want to anymore?”

“No, I do, but I thought you didn’t want to. Do you still want to?” There was hope in his voice. He assumed you wanted to be done, based on your body language at least. But the way you looked at him then spoke otherwise.

“I mean... yeah if that’s okay,” you said shyly, your cheeks turning red.

Ah, right again.

He couldn’t help the smile that formed on his lips. “So, we will, it’s settled.”

“It is.”

Victory was a good feeling. You were finally his. His to taint, his to please, his to use. He touched a hand to his chest and felt the ring through the fabric of his shirt. It felt good. Very good. And who knows, perhaps one day you'd be his girlfriend.

He looked down at you.

You probably would be his girlfriend.

He smiled again.

~~~

@misacc08 @whotfskai

1K notes · View notes

staytheword · 2 years ago

Text

on my mind

on my mind — one shot request by anon [ masterlist ]

• han jisung x female reader.

• non idol au. roommates to lovers. mutual pining. drinking, mention of weed consumption, explicit language, explicit smut.

• smut warnings (spoilers ahead) — porn watching. handjob. oral sex (m receiving). thigh riding. fingering. use of "baby" pet name. protected sex.

• word count: 8.6k

You and Jisung are stressed over your upcoming exams. You need to clear your heads, but you can't find anything that works. That is, until Jisung suggests watching porn together.

• the prompt was friends "using" each other to take the stress out... I hope this will fill your expectations!! ♡

You slam your book closed, an annoyed sigh escaping your lips.

You can’t do this anymore.

You’ve been studying for hours. In fact, you’ve been studying for weeks preparing for those exams. Your eyes are about to melt, your body aching to move from your chair, your brain desperately seeking distraction. You’re sick of this. Sick of stressing yourself out, sick of only allowing yourself to think about what is in these books. The exams are still several days away and you’ll have time to fall back into your anxiety - for now, you deserve a break and you are going to take it.

Or you’re going to try.

It’s not the first time you tell yourself that - take a break, you deserve it. You close your books and computer, full of resolve, and escape the confines of your room. Each time you end up just pacing the apartment, unable to focus on the movie you’ve put on or the game you’ve started. Once you made it outside for a walk, but you had no idea where to go and ended up walking in circles. Your brain is so preoccupied with your exams you can’t do much else. You wake up and it’s all you think about - and before you know it you collapse on the bed, exhausted.

As you hear someone knock on your door, you blink and realize you’ve been phasing out. You shake your head, slide a hand through your hair - it has gotten too long in the past few weeks - and clear your throat.

“Come in,” you say, your voice a little rusty.

Jisung pokes his head in from behind the door. “Hey. You hungry?”

At least you are not alone. Jisung is going through the same thing as you, so you promised each other to do what is necessary to stay sane. Remind the other to eat, for instance, and then eat the meals together, even if it is in complete silence. You’re also very open about your stress, and you force each other to go out or clear your head. If he wasn’t here, you have no idea how you would get through this.

You hadn’t been sure about becoming Jisung’s roommate at the beginning of the year, but you didn’t regret your decision at all. Some of your friends had raised an eyebrow at you rooming up with a guy, but you trusted Jisung. You resembled each other in a few ways, but were different enough to keep the other on their toes. He was honest, hardworking, but also funny and open-minded. He bought your favorite snacks at the grocery store. He listened to you talk about your difficulties with building your thesis statements. He read your essay drafts and made useful feedback. He made fantastic homemade pizza. He was the best at impressions. He liked to braid your hair. Once he even restacked the pads when you were running low - that day you almost fell in love with him.

Almost.

You just had a stupid crush. Who wouldn’t? Jisung was not only kind and attentive, he was also incredibly handsome. Wavy dark hair that shone in the sun. A heart shaped smile that grew so big it swallowed your entire soul. Golden skin that was soft to the touch - you knew from applying a mask on him once. Wide shoulders, a lean and athletic body. You saw him do push ups in his room sometimes, or using the stationary bike you had in the living room. He wiped the sweat off his brow and gave you a smile, nodding his head to the beat of whatever song played in his headphones.

But Jisung was your friend, first and foremost. Right now, and up until your exams, he was also your ally, your lifeline. You remember, a few weeks back, when you both sat down in front of a bowl of soup and intertwined your pinkies.

We get through this together, you said.

Together, he repeated, his eyes deeply set in yours.

Now he smiled gently at you, his mouth a thin line, his eyes wide open but red and glassy from exhaustion.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “I can cook something, if you want.”

“That’s ok, I got you,” he smiles. “Why don’t you rest? I’ll get you when it’s ready.”

You feel something tug at your heartstrings. “Thanks, Ji.”

With the sweetest smile, he gives you a little nod and disappears, carefully closing the door behind him. You breathe out in the silence, glancing back at your books. You could study a little while Jisung gets the food ready, but you are tempted to listen to him and lie down. A few minutes with your eyes closed couldn’t hurt.

You drag your feet to your bed, which is luckily not very far, and make the mistake of going under the covers. Your sheets are soft, your comforter heavy. The dim light in your room and the muffled noises of Jisung getting busy in the kitchen are so soothing you slip away quickly.

You wake up to a hand gently stirring you - you sit up in a jolt, blinking confusingly.

“Shit, what time is it?”

It feels like it’s been seconds and years. It’s definitely darker now, and your eyes are puffy with sleep, your skin a little tingly. You recognize Jisung’s silhouette in the darkness as he chuckles.

“I’m sorry to wake you up,” he whispers. “But you need to eat. Then you can go back to sleep, yeah?”

“R-right. Yeah. Okay.”

You throw open the covers and get out of bed, not even thinking about the fact that your hair must be a complete mess and your cheeks puffy with sleep. Jisung has seen you in worse states, anyway. You grab a hoodie as you follow him out of your room, one of your socks half slipped out from your foot.

“It smells really good, Ji,” you comment as you head to the kitchen.

He turns his head back to you with a smile. He’s wearing a red crewneck, gray sweatpants, and his slippers. You haven’t seen him out of such outfits recently, except for a few nights when he got dressed to go somewhere, but even then his style is always baggy. It’s for this reason you will never forget the one time he got dressed up for a date and wore a tighter shirt. That and the number of times you’ve seen him shirtless, of course. But that’s a whole other issue.

“It’s nothing fancy,” he says, gesturing to you to sit down at the kitchen island.

There is an actual table in the dining area, more than large enough for the both of you, but you rarely sit down there to eat. It usually serves as a storage area for random things like folded laundry, groceries, board games or books. Both of you prefer the kitchen island, perching atop the stools that you can twirl to your liking. Half the time you eat there, the other in the living room in front of the television.

Catching the sight of your hair in the kitchen window, you pull your hoodie on the top of your head and look down at the plate Jisung places in front of you. It is nothing fancy - pasta with creamy sauce, with chopped green onions sitting on top of it, but it smells absolutely delicious and makes your stomach growl.

“I think I’m drooling,” you state, glancing up at him. “I am so hungry, fuck.”

Jisung laughs, sitting down next to you with his own plate. “Parmesan?”

“Yes, please.”

He sprinkles some on your plate, and then on his, before you both start to eat in silence. There’s music playing on the speaker, a song you don’t recognize, and you ask Jisung about it. He tells you about this new band he’s discovered, and you quietly talk as you devour your plates. The sauce, smooth and peppery, is making your taste buds dance, and the food gives you a lot of energy. As you eat, the conversation gets more lively, and you suggest making coffee for dessert. Jisung agrees, and after you insist on doing the dishes first, he says he’ll wait for you in the living room. You hear the familiar song of a game he likes to play and get started on the dishes. As you put down the clean dishes in the drying rack, you sigh.

A nap. Homemade food. Jisung’s smile. All of these things reassure you, and make you feel peaceful - so why is there such a tight knot at the bottom of your stomach? Why can’t it go away, even for just a few hours?

You should study again after this.

Drink your coffee with your nose in your books.

You’re wasting valuable time.

You shut your eyes tight, taking a deep breath as you dry your hands.

When you sit down on the couch next to Jisung, near the edge of the cushion, not getting too comfortable, you put down his mug of coffee on the table and keep yours in your hands. He shoots you a quick glance.

“Thanks.”

You just smile back, a feeble attempt for one, but Jisung catches it. He glances back one more time, frowns. You wish you weren’t that easy to read. You wish you could take a deep breath and smile and he would believe it when you said you were fine. But you’ve never been very good at that.

Still, Jisung says nothing. He pauses his game, turns the spoon in his coffee mug to mix in the milk. You just stare at yours, the black coffee almost staring back.

“I should…” You hesitate for a second, then shake your head. “Yeah, I should get back to it.”

You stand up quickly, hoping to be able to run away before Jisung says anything, but you feel his fingers close around your hand. You look down at him in surprise. He looks at you with wide eyes, looking confused and maybe even slightly annoyed.

“Right now?” he says. “I thought you’d get some rest.”

“I did,” you shrug, nibbling on your lower lip. “There’s too much to do, and…”

“Y/N,” he stops you, shaking his head. “You need to take a break. We need to take a break.”

You part your lips to retaliate, but Jisung removes his hand from yours and pats the couch.

“Sit down, please.”

His voice is low, a little rusty. You swallow, your mouth dry. If only your chest didn’t feel so empty, your heart would be pounding in your chest.

“I know you’re anxious,” he tells you softly, playing nervously with his fingers. “I am, too. But aren’t you getting tired of, like… just stressing out?”

You chuckle a little bitterly, looking at Jisung. The light of the television reflects on his skin, mixed with the orange glow of the lamp. The circles under his eyes are dark. His lips are chapped. His nose is still a little red from the cold he had last week. You feel a pang of longing.

“Of course I am,” you sigh. “But we just have to get through it, right? We just need to make it there.”

He nods. “I know, but I’m scared of what we’re losing in the process. It can’t be healthy to just study all the time like we do.”

“What do you suggest, then?”

He shrugs, leaning back into the couch. His hoodie skirts up his stomach a little as he stretches his arms. You catch a glimpse of skin, of an abdominal muscle. It almost makes your brain glitch.

“I don’t know,” he breathes. “A distraction? Just for one night.”

When he sees your hesitation, Jisung quickly continues.

“I don’t mean dressing up and going outside and being social. Just the two of us, I mean. We can watch a movie, play games… get high.”

That makes you smile. “We don’t have any more weed since the cookie disaster.”

“Fuck, that’s right,” he laughs. “But it doesn’t matter. We just need to clear our heads, y’know? Think about something else. Be in denial about the exams. Like they’re not even going to happen.”

You take a deep breath, still hesitant. Your heart desperately wants to say yes, but your brain is holding back. The voice in your head, telling you you shouldn’t. You don’t want it to whisper your guilt back to you all night.

“Please, Y/N,” Jisung suddenly adds. There’s something in his voice that catches your attention. Sadness. Despair. “I don’t want to do it without you. We said we’d go through this together, right?”

You shake your head, staring down at the pinkie finger he is now holding up between you. He’s playing with your heartstrings and he knows it, but you don’t blame him. It’s working too well. There’s not much you would refuse him, anyway - but you don’t tell him that. Instead you smile and wrap your pinkie around his.

“Okay,” you say softly. “Let’s be in denial together.”

Jisung grins and you laugh, hitting his arm.

“It’s not fair that you used the wounded puppy eyes, by the way.”

“I would never,” Jisung says, shaking his head.

You take a careful sip of coffee, which is still a little too hot, but the warmth feels nice in your throat. Jisung grabs the second controller and presents it to you.

“You want to join?”

Although you are not very good at this game you agree, because you figure it will be a good way to start off the evening. As you pound on the buttons and try not to get Jisung killed in the game, you feel your shoulders relax. It doesn’t make the knot go away, but you do get a little giddy at the idea of not returning to your books tonight. That - and the perspective of spending the next hours with Jisung makes you a little more happy than it should. You already spend a lot of time together, so why would this evening be different? But it still feels like it.

Once the coffees are empty and the campaign is over, you and Jisung settle on a movie you both wanted to see for a while. You settle on opposite sides of the couch as you usually do, but you end up stretching your legs so much your feet rest against Jisung’s legs, and he doesn’t complain. He even puts a warm hand on your ankle at some point, distracting you a little from the movie.

The movie ends too quickly, and you end up in the kitchen cleaning the mugs and staring at each other.

“What now?” you chuckle. “It’s still early. Unless you want to go to bed…”

“No way,” he replies. “I want to make this last as much as possible.”

He is looking at you as he says that, his hair sticking out behind his head because of the way he was slumped on the couch for the duration of the movie, and your heartbeat accelerates. You feel a hotness on the back of your neck and you rub it with your hand.

“Then maybe we can… Take a walk? It’s not raining or anything.”

“Snack run? Then we can find something else to watch.”

“Sounds good.”

You don’t bother getting changed because it’s dark outside and the grocery store is just around the corner. Besides, you live in a neighborhood that is mostly composed of other students, so two people in sweatpants and hoodies isn’t uncommon at all. After getting plenty of snacks, you head back towards your shared apartment, talking in calm voices. The streets are not too busy, and it’s only slightly chilly. You glance up at the sky, walking slowly, your hand brushing Jisung’s.

At one point, you realize you are only talking about school and your exams, so Jisung shakes his head.

“We are so bad at this whole ‘think about something else’ thing,” he laughs.

You sigh. “We really are. God, this is hard.”

“We need to find a really good distraction. Something that would really, really disconnect our brains, like…”

He stops and you look at him with a frown. “Like what?”

“I dunno,” he answers a little too quickly. “We have to find something, is what I’m saying.”

“Yeah,” you agree in a whisper, glancing back at him curiously.

You could swear he is blushing.

“How about drinking?” he offers. “Not too much so we don’t get headaches, but a little. Being tipsy can maybe help us get inspiration.”

“I like the idea,” you smile.

Once you are back inside your apartment, your sneakers exchanged for slippers, you grab a bottle of soju from the fridge and fill two glasses. You and Jisung sit on the floor, backs leaning against the couch, and clink your glasses together. Jisung chooses a random movie on Netflix, and you watch it for a few minutes, unable to concentrate on it. After you’ve taken a few sips, you let out a sigh.

“You know what would be easier? If we weren’t single.”

Jisung arches an eyebrow.

“I mean, we could just call them,” you explain. “Get laid. Get a massage. Make out for hours. That would be really good distraction.”

“It would,” Jisung laughs. “Don’t you have someone you could call?”

“Like a fuck buddy?” you say. “Jisung, you seem to forget how excruciatingly single and bad at flirting I am.”

“You can’t be worse than me,” he smiles, taking another sip from his glass. “Last time I tried to get laid I got stood up.”

“She was a bitch,” you point out.

Jisung shakes his head. “I thought personality doesn’t matter when it comes to hooking up.”

“That’s not exactly true.”

“Like you’re such a pro at this, huh?”

You gasp at Jisung’s jab, shoving him with your elbow. “That was so mean!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he laughs, holding his palms up. “I mean, if a massage would do it for you, I can try.”

You scrunch your nose. “Nah, thank you. I’m actually not much of a massage person.”

“How can you not be a massage person?!”

You keep talking and laughing, watching the movie sometimes, and for a while, you think that you’ve actually succeeded at clearing your heads. You feel lighter, distracted. The alcohol and Jisung’s laugh help a lot. But eventually you breathe out and realize that the knot is still there. Insistent. It almost feels like it’s getting bigger. Beside you, you can feel that Jisung is the same. His shoulders are tense, and his eyes, while fixated on the screen, are not seeing anything. You’re a little tipsy so you grab the controller and press pause.

“Ji, this isn’t working.”

He turns towards you, looking sheepish. “I know. I’m sorry…”

“We need something more drastic.”

He gives you a little nod, and you squint.

“What was the idea you had earlier?”

His head shoots up and you can see panic in his eyes. “What? What idea?”

“Don’t lie to me,” you tell him. “I know your idea face. You thought of something back there, when we were walking back.”

And there it is - Jisung blushes again, shaking his head vehemently. “Oh. Oh, no. It wasn’t… It’s stupid. It’s not - I just mean it’s… No.”

You turn your body completely towards his, drawing your knees against your chest. “Ji, come on. Tell me. I’m not going to judge.”

He gives you a timid look, and empties his soju glass before he clears his throat. You do not know why, but your heart is pounding in your chest.

Jisung breathes deeply.

“I was just thinking, that when I need a distraction, like… When I really want to think about something else, I…”

“Yes?” you encourage him.

“I jerk off.”

You stare back at him in shock. You should’ve expected this. You were an idiot not to catch it earlier on. It was a logical answer - and something you’ve tried yourself numerous times in the past couple of days. Slipping your fingers in your underwear, stimulating yourself. Watching porn. But when you did succeed at your orgasms, they always felt underwhelming. They never left you feeling appeased, just even more tense.

“Oh,” you breathe out.

“I told you it was stupid! I shouldn’t have -”

“It’s not stupid,” you shrug, and it’s your turn to empty your glass.

You’re not drunk. You’re just a little tipsy. It’s not barely enough to have this kind of conversation with your roommate - one you have a huge crush on - but it will have to do. You want Jisung to feel comfortable with you. And it’s nothing to be embarrassed of, right? That’s what people always say. So why is talking about it so hard, why is your heart pounding, why is the thought of Jisung jerking off turning you on so goddamn much?

Jisung blinks at you. “It’s not?”

“Of course not,” you smile a little nervously. “I… I do it too, when I want to relax.”

He visibly gulps, but you take it as embarrassment.

“Don’t we all?” you add, a little nervously.

He nods quickly, maybe a little too enthusiastically. Your cheeks are hot, horribly hot. You need some air. You need another drink. Ten, even.

“I mean, if you want some time alone…”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant,” Jisung says. “I just, I mean, you know my friend Minho?”

You nod. “Yeah, why?”

“He told me about one time, he and his friend, I mean they were dating so it’s not the same, but they - hm, they… They watched porn together.”

It feels like you can barely breathe. Did it suddenly get very warm in your living room? Because your skin feels like it’s on fire and neither you or Jisung can look at each other directly.

“People really do that?” you say in a weak voice.

“Apparently,” Jisung chuckles nervously. “He said it was really fun, so… Yeah, I don’t know why I thought about that.”

There’s a short silence as you try to make sense of what Jisung is telling you. Is he just telling an anecdote, or is he asking for something? If you agree, will he think you’re crazy or weird? Maybe he’s just sharing. You decide there’s not much to lose. If you are misunderstanding, you can just laugh and pretend you’re joking.

Your voice is gentle, not very assumed. “You… you want us to watch porn together?”

Jisung shoots you a very panicked look and for a second you think you’ve just made a huge fool of yourself. But he opens his mouth and stammers out a yes.

“C-could be fun, I guess?” he adds.

You breathe out, your heart beating so fast you are sure Jisung can hear it. Surely, he can hear it. How terrified you are terrified at the prospect of watching porn with him. How much you never would’ve thought this could happen. How much you want to do it now.

“We really don’t have to, it’s just a stupid idea, and -”

“Okay,” you whisper.

Jisung looks at you. “R-really?”

“Sure, why not,” you say more decisively, giving him a tight nod. “We can comment on it and everything. Could be fun. I mean, it’s just porn, right? We watch it all the time.”

You realize your mistake too late, your smile faltering on your lips.

“I - I mean, I do, not all the time, but sometimes, like all people do, and…”

“You heard me that time, didn't you?” Jisung sighs, slamming his palm against his forehead.

You can’t hold back a smile this time - a genuine one. Jisung groans as you bite your lip, trying to hold back your laughter.

“Just say it,” he sighs.

“I heard you that time.”

Jisung’s head drops forward in his hands and you chuckle, your shoulders shaking.

“It’s okay, Ji, it’s not -”

“The ONE time!” he cries out, looking up at you. You love the smile on his face, both embarrassed and amused, horrified and shy. “The one time I forget to plug in my headphones… I realized too late…”

“It’s fine,” you repeat, not thinking, and place a hand on his thigh to squeeze it briefly. “It’s just porn, Ji. And I know you’re into hentai, so don’t be ashamed, please. I like it too.”

Jisung looks at you like his brain is short-circuiting. “You - what - how do you know that?”

“I was in the room with you and Minho that time you talked about it, remember?” You smile. “Also, it’s the second time his name comes up in our conversation about porn, this is getting weird.”

Jisung shrugs. “Eh, the man is shameless. But you’re right, I remember now. God, that is embarrassing.”

“It isn’t,” you smile, twirling your empty glass in your hand. You don’t want to drink anymore - this is already too much adrenaline for you. “I just confessed I’m into it, too. Do you think that’s weird?”

“Not at all. I think that’s… hot.”

You smile, feeling your cheeks burn, but you do not know what to answer. Instead, you fill your lungs with air and gather your courage.

Jisung is observing his nails very carefully.

“So, shall we?” you say, trying to sound confident.

Jisung glances up at you, searching your eyes for an instant. You guess he must be looking for hesitation, or trying to figure out if you really want this or are doing it just to please him, so you just smile calmly, although you’re unable to hold back your nervousness.

“Let’s do it,” he answers with a sharp nod.

For good measure, you each pour yourself another drink, and Jisung gets his laptop to plug it so the browser is projected on the television. You wrap your arms around your legs, looking up nervously at the screen. Jisung’s fingers hover over the keyboard.

“S-so, is there a website you like?” he asks.

“Hm,” you answer, letting out a shaky breath. “Not really. You can go to the one you usually go to. If you’re okay with that.”

“Sure,” Jisung breathes.

It takes him a few more seconds but he eventually types in a website and you let out a giggle as the welcome page pops up on the screen.

“What?”

“It’s just - it’s also the one I use,” you admit, and Jisung grins.

“Really? I like this one because of the categories. They’re a little unusual but so much fun for discovering new stuff.”

“And the mobile site is so well made,” you add with enthusiasm. “Not like other websites which are impossible to navigate on your phone…”

“Ugh, tell me about it.”

You laugh, relieved that this is already easier than you thought it would be. Of course, you haven’t actually put on any porn yet, but at least you are learning to speak of it more or less comfortably.

A short silence follows as Jisung scrolls up and down the page, and you glance at the thumbnails. Schoolgirls. Medieval fantasy. Monsters. After a minute, Jisung lets out a sigh.

“I guess we just have to choose one,” he says.

You bite your lip. “Type in Labyrinth in the search bar.”

Jisung looks at you, but he still does it. You point out the thumbnail you recognize, feeling almost dizzy.

“I like this one,” you say in a very soft voice. “The story’s actually really good.”

“O-okay.”

Taking a sharp breath, Jisung clicks on the link and the video opens up. He puts it on full screen, and it feels different to watch it on the television. You roll your arms around yourself, feeling terribly shy, and Jisung sits on the couch next to you - at a reasonable distance, of course. You clink your glasses together and take a sip of soju.

It’s not so bad at first. There’s an actual story to this video that you enjoy, but you know it doesn’t last that long. You are terrified of what Jisung might say, that he might laugh at you, but you try your best not to overthink everything. As the sex scenes are coming closer, you realize you have not yet exchanged a word and there is still the embarrassing issue of actually getting turned on. You really haven’t thought this through, you think to yourself as the characters start to undress each other.

Oh, God.

Kisses. Fondling. The wet sounds of the guy’s fingers slipping into the girl’s dripping folds. You breathe in slowly - but there’s a reason you love this video. It really pushes your buttons, so you can’t help but feel your walls clench around nothing. You should think about something else. You can’t focus too much on this. But you’re already getting wet and your eyes can’t leave the screen because if they do, they’ll inevitably fall on Jisung.

Your friend. Your roommate. Your crush. Who is sitting next to you, watching your favorite porn video with you. Oh, God.

On the screen, the guy buries his head in between her legs. Licks her wetness as she moans his name. The images are one thing - the sounds are another.

You’re burning up, pushing your thighs together, trying to stay discreet.

As the girl’s pleasure builds, the subtitles translate her moans for you. Wanted this for so long, your tongue feels so good buried in me. That’s when you feel Jisung move beside you. Your eyes are instinctively drawn to him, and you catch a glimpse of his parted mouth, his red cheeks, his hazy eyes.

He has his legs propped up against him. You wonder if he’s as turned on as you. Maybe not. Maybe this isn’t doing it for him.

You focus back on the screen as the girl comes, squirting around the guy’s face. He chuckles, and asks her to suck his cock. She bends down to do it, and Jisung breathes out sharply.

“The- the animation’s really good,” he says weakly, and you are quick to nod.

“Yeah, right? The movements are really smooth,” you comment.

Jisung smiles nervously. “Yeah. I - I like it.”

You want to keep talking, but you don’t know what to say. The questions that burn the tip of your tongue cannot be asked, not really, not right now. You and Jisung are friends who watch porn together. You are not involved. You are not dating. This is just a distraction.

But now you are horny as fuck and getting tense. You need to relieve the pressure between your legs or you will go crazy. You can already feel your mind buzzing.

The girl is giving the guy a sloppy blowjob. He is groaning loudly, which is something you like about this video, and she hums in pleasure.

“The voice acting isn’t that bad, right?” you say. “I like it when we can hear the guy, too.”

“You do?” Jisung asks. “I thought girls didn’t like hearing us.”

“Oh my God, it’s literally the opposite,” you chuckle. “Hearing the guys groan and moan is the hottest thing ever.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, Ji. Be as vocal as possible, I promise it’s going to make them come quicker.” You shrug. “I mean, I can’t speak for everyone. But it would do it for me.”

Jisung nods, and you both turn back to the screen just in time for the guy plunging his cock deep inside his partner, making her gasp in pleasure. The squelching noises are turned up, and she is visibly dripping all around him, precum and juices staining the sheets of the bed.

Yes, fuck me deep, your cock is so big, oh my god!

You close your eyes, shifting your hips in a desperate attempt to rub yourself against something, but there’s nothing to do - your cunt is just throbbing, and you can feel your slick drenching your underwear. You’re so hot, you want to remove your hoodie, but you also can’t move.

You lose track of time a little when Jisung’s voice reaches your ears.

“S-sorry,” he says in a breathy voice. “I can’t help it.”

You glance at him and notice he has stretched his legs. His gray sweatpants hide absolutely nothing of his erection and you stare at the outline of his cock, hard and thick. You could moan out loud at the mere sight, but by miracle you are able to hold it in. You had noticed Jisung was, let’s say, well equipped, but you did not expect this.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbles.

“It’s fine,” you whisper, shaking your head, finally looking up at him. “I’m really wet, too.”

Jisung’s cock twitches under his pants and he closes his eyes sharply. “Fuck, don’t tell me that.”

“S-sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Fuck. I’m sorry.”

You don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s the porn on the television, your own arousal, your repressed crush for Jisung or the sight of his stiff cock, but you’re unable to think straight and the words come out of your mouth unprovoked.

“Ji, do you… do you want some help?”

The thought that you could actually touch him makes your mouth water. You’ve thought about it before, wrapping your hands around him. Closing your lips around his length. Licking him clean. Maybe it’s not as impossible as you thought. Maybe you aren’t that foolish to think it could happen.

Jisung stammers for a few seconds because he gulps. “A-are you really asking?”

You nod faintly. “I can jerk you off.”

He stares at you, mouth open. “I mean - If - if- if you’d like it.” He seems to catch himself, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “You don’t have to, Y/N, it’s…”

“I don’t mind,” you answer. “I - I’d like it, but only if you want to.”

“R-right. Hm, okay. But only if you’re sure…”

You just shuffle closer to him, kneeling beside his body. His smell overwhelms you, so him, his cologne and his soap, soju and candy, and your hands are shaking as you reach for his pants. You hesitate, though, realizing what you are about to do. You’re scared he doesn’t really want this, you’re scared of what it will change, but before you can start to doubt too much, Jisung slides down his sweatpants and takes his cock out himself.

“H-here.”

He holds it up for you although he wouldn’t have to. He is so hard it looks painful, veins bulging, slightly curved, pre-cum glistening at the tip. You bite your lip, pressing your legs together, and you’re sitting so close to Jisung you feel his breath in your hair.

You reach out and wrap your fingers around his cock. It’s warm and pulsating, and Jisung lets out a whimper. You move your hand upwards and downwards, getting used to him, barely seeing the porn that is still ongoing on the screen. All you hear are moans and the wet sounds of fucking and kissing, and it helps you not think too much about what is happening, like it’s not real, like it’s part of the porn. Your fingers slide up to his tip, smearing the pre-cum over Jisung’s cock, and you jerk your hand a little faster.

Jisung lets out a choked moan and his forehead falls against the side of your head. His arm slides around your body, holding you close, the other resting on the couch, gripping the fabric.

“F-fuck, ah, ah, fuck,” he whispers in your ear, and the sound is like the sweetest music.

Is Jisung enjoying this? You giving him a handjob while watching porn? This can’t be real. This is the hottest thing you've ever done.

“Is that okay?” you ask him softly.

“F-feels p-perfect,” he grunts, bucking his hips against your hand. “Y/N…”

The sound of your name draws a shaky breath from your lips, and your other hand grabs his thigh, squeezing it a little. You try to remain steady, intoxicated by the sounds coming from the television, Jisung’s noises, his cock around your hand, him fucking your palm.

“I’m n-not going to last,” Jisung whimpers, and you slide up your other hand to cup his balls. That draws a loud grunt from his lips. “Fuck, Y/N!”

“Hold on,” you whisper, feeling drunker than if you had emptied a bottle of soju by yourself. “I want to suck you off.”

It might be your only chance. You want to make this moment last - so you have something to think about, the next time your roommate comes into your mind. The next time you dream about Jisung being yours. The next time you tell yourself there is no way he can like you back. You can at least let him go knowing he’s come once around your hands, around your lips.

“Y-you sure?”

You nod, shuffling back on the couch a little, bending forward so your lips come into contact with his cock. Jisung buries his fingers in your hair, pulling them together to keep them away from your face. You kiss his tip, your right hand still moving, your left holding his balls.

“Holy fuck, Y/N… This feels incredible… I’m not…”

“Just let go, Ji,” you whisper, perhaps a little too tenderly.

You wrap your mouth around his cock, taking him in. You glance up to see his eyes roll back. You’re pretty sure the sex scene is over on the screen, because people are talking, but neither of you are paying any attention. You bob your head, licking every inch of him, and Jisung thrusts his hips slowly, fucking your mouth gently.

“I’m gonna blow, fuck, please, ah - ah, FUCK -”

He comes quickly and suddenly, his cum filling your mouth, salty and warm. His cock keeps throbbing between your lips, and Jisung is breathing heavily, his fingers still resting in your hair, all tangled. You take the time to lick him clean, gently, carefully.

When you sit up, his hand slides down your arm to your leg, and you look at him. He’s not moving, head thrown back, his hair over his slightly sweaty face, his clothes in disarray.

This is a sight you’ll never forget.

A taste you’ll never forget.

You feel something tighten in your chest.

You’ve fallen so hard for him.

“Y/N…” he breathes after a few seconds, raising his head to look at you.

His hands reach for you, and you let him. His hand grazes your cheek, the other gripping your own. You slide your fingers in between his, feeling a little shy.

“That was unreal,” he breathes, leaning in towards you.

He doesn’t kiss you, neither does he hug you - he just presses his body against yours, pressing his lips against your hair. It’s such a tender gesture you feel your heart swell in your chest and you ache for touch. You don’t expect anything. You want to run away to touch yourself, to fuck yourself thinking of him, but you don’t want to leave his warmth.

“Come here,” he whispers. “It’s your turn.”

Your heart skips a beat. You want to tell him he doesn’t have to, but he’s already wrapping his arms around you, bringing you closer. You end up on his lap, and instinctively you guide your legs so you straddle one of his legs, your core flush on his thigh.

The pressure, despite the layers of clothing, draws a moan from between your lips and you dig your fingers in his skin.

“Jisung…”

“Does that feel good?” he asks in a whisper.

When you nod, Jisung raises his thigh a little, applying more pressure on your cunt, and the wave of pleasure makes you arch your back and grind against him.

“Don’t hold back,” he breathes as you start to roll your hips. “Like you told me. Just let go.”

He places a hand on the small of your back, accompanying you in your movements. He breathes in your neck, warming up and tickling your skin, your cunt clenching tighter and tighter. His thigh is tense, pressing against all the right places, and you can’t stop moaning.

You push yourself up a little, pressing a hand against his chest, and you want to get rid of all those clothes, and feel him under your skin, but you can’t stop moving, and you are so close to coming.

Jisung is breathing hard against you, pushing his leg upwards, his hands massaging your waist, helping you move as you ride his thigh. “That’s it, baby…”

The nickname alone almost ends you.

He kisses your collarbone and you think you might explode. “You sound so good. I’m so fucking obsessed with you,” he says.

The words take your breath away. You shudder, your fingers squeezing his as you roll your hips a little slower. “You - what?”

It’s like he doesn’t hear you. “Baby, please, can I make you cum?”

You just nod, his words echoing in your mind, unable to be truly grasped as your orgasm builds up. His hand slides down your pants and he pushes his fingers under your panties, pressing them against your wetness. You let out a moan at the direct contact, feeling your body jolt.

“You’re so wet,” Jisung groans in your ear.

You can’t bring yourself to speak. You’re already so close to your climax that when Jisung starts to circle your clit, pushing his fingers in between your folds, it only takes a few seconds for you to come undone, breathing out his name. It feels like a tidal wave, like a power surge, like everything you have dreamed of. You feel him smile, his fingers teasing you until you have to grab his wrist and pull them away.

“S-sensitive,” you chuckle, unable to open your eyes, feeling drained.

He nods with a soft laugh. You can feel against your leg that he’s hard again, but he doesn’t do anything. He just looks at you as you try to steady your breathing, your legs trembling. You don’t want to move - he is so warm next to you. But eventually, you realize the position you are in, and so you slide off him. Jisung helps you, his hands guiding you back on the couch beside him.

You feel breathless, like you’ve just ran a marathon. Once your eyes are able to focus, you stare at the screen without really seeing it. You try to grasp what has just happened. You wonder what’s next. You are afraid.

“Y/N…”

Jisung’s voice reaches your ears but you can’t bring yourself to look at him. What now? Can you stay roommates? Can you even stay friends? Your heartbeat accelerates and you sit up on the couch, suddenly feeling antsy.

“I - I should… I need to go to the bathroom.”

“Y/N, wait -”

You know it’s unfair, but you ignore him and quickly walk away. You close the bathroom door, breathing out. And then the oddest thing happens.

You smile.

You giggle in surprise, putting your fingers to your lips. Fuck, you can’t stop smiling. You should be nervous, you should be terrified. But none of those feelings are lasting - you are only smiling like an idiot. Jisung’s words resonate in your head. I’m so fucking obsessed with you.

Sometimes things need to change. Sometimes they should. Sometimes they are meant to.

When you open the bathroom door again, Jisung is waiting for you on the other side. His big eyes are filled with worry, pleading, and fear.

“Y/N, please, listen -”

You don’t think. You just kiss him.

Jisung does not move at first, and when you take a step back, your cheeks burning up, he stares at you with shock.

“What are you -”

“I like you,” you blutter out. “I like you a lot.”

It takes another second, but Jisung’s lips curve into a smile. His eyes do not leave yours, but the light in them changes. Soon his heart-shaped grin makes your heart swell in your chest, and he’s picking you up in his arms and kissing you again.

You push him gently against the wall. “Please touch me again.”

You guide his hands on your waist, and he breathes hard in your mouth.

“I like you so much,” Jisung says, and his lips brush against your ear, making you breathe out. “I have such a massive crush on you. Never let myself act on it… I was too scared, you know.”

“I know,” you whisper back. “Me too.”

“I like everything about you,” he whispers. “Your laugh. Your passion. Your smell. Your skin… Fuck, you’re so gorgeous. You don’t have any idea how beautiful you are. How fucking sexy.”

You part your mouth wider, and he pushes his tongue against yours, playing with it, his teeth teasing your lips. His hard cock is pressing against you, making you crave him again, and you want to feel him inside of you, so deep you can never be separated again.

“Can I take you back to my room?” he asks in between two kisses. “I want to fuck you in my bed.”

You feel yourself throbbing and you can’t hold back a moan as you nod.

It happens fast - Jisung takes your hand and guides you to his room. You’re pretty sure the porn is still playing on the television back in the living room, but who cares? You only have eyes for Jisung.

You know his room so well. The smells, the colors. The desk, the blankets, the clothes. The stickers on the window. Yet it all looks different as you step inside holding Jisung’s hand. He draws you close, bringing you back into a kiss. You collapse against him, letting him guide you to his bed.

He lifts you like you’re a feather, laying you down, his body above yours. Jisung is quick to cover your neck with kisses, his wet lips smearing saliva on your skin. He removes your hoodie, palms your breasts, who are only covered by a tank top.

“Fuck, those tits…”

You can hardly breathe, loving each of his caresses. The sheets smell so much like him it’s almost overwhelming. After removing the rest of your clothes, he spends a long time kissing and licking your breasts, playing with your nipples, drawing hisses and moans from your lips. After a while you whimper in protest, because your walls are begging for him.

“Ji, please…”

His mouth breaks into a grin, and he comes back to push his lips against yours. He kisses you surprisingly tenderly, and you moan against his mouth, because this feels so right, so true. His fingers stroke your hair, your cheek, and your hands travel down his back and then upwards, lifting his crewneck. He removes it, and you arch your back against him, your nipples pressed against his chest, his lips ardently seeking yours.

Soon he is naked too, and as he keeps kissing you, his cock teases your wetness. From his shuddered breathing, you know he can’t wait much longer, and you squeeze his arm, hoping he understands your signal. It seems like he does, because he sits up a little, leaning towards his bedside table to open a drawer. He fumbles inside of it, muttering nonsense, until he finally pulls out a condom. You giggle and Jisung laughs with you, and you feel warmer than you ever have.

Once Jisung has safely put on the condom, he guides his cock against your entrance and glances at you.

“Can I - I mean - You sure?”

“Yes,” you nod.

You wish you could look at his length disappearing inside of you, just because you’ve desired it so much, but once Jisung enters you, your head falls back on the pillow. He goes slow, leaving you time to adjust, stopping when you breathe a little more sharply. It takes a minute, but eventually he fills you up, and you wrap your arms around him, breathing out.

“Are you okay?”

You nod. “Sorry. It’s just been a while.”

“There’s no rush,” he tells you softly. “We can go slow.”

You smile, pulling him into a kiss.

“Just tell me if it’s too much,” he breathes in your ear.

He starts to move, thrusting his hips carefully. Your body recovers quickly, though, and soon you can shift your hips alongside his, easing his movements. He fucks you gently and deeply, sending shivers up your spine, and you’ve certain you’ve never had sex like this. You breathe together, move together, moan together.

You take your time, your orgasm rising slowly and surely. You dig your fingers in his skin, shudder when you hear him grunt. You shift positions after some time, so that your legs can be wrapped more easily around his waist, and he’s so deep inside of you that you feel your walls throb with pleasure.

“J-just like that,” you whisper to him. “Fuck, I’m coming…”

“I can feel you,” he whimpers. “Come, baby, I’m so close too…”

You cry out in his neck, the sound slightly muffled, and Jisung follows you seconds afterwards. You feel every throb of his release. You’re still shivering as he looks down in panic.

“Fuck, I’m - I’m sorry, I didn’t pull out…”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him. “There’s the condom, and I take the pill…”

He still looks worried so you kiss him, feeling at peace. You are safe, you feel safe. Jisung eventually relaxes, and after throwing away the condom, he slumps on the bed beside you, snuggling his head in the crook of your neck. His fingers brush your cheek to put a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I want to make you cum every day,” he says gently. “With my fingers, my mouth, my cock.”

“Hmm,” you smile. “I like that idea.”

“Yeah?” he grins. “I want to sleep next to you. See your face in the morning, the sunshine against your cheeks… Your arms wrapped around me.”

With every sentence he places a kiss, making you sleepy and perfectly awake at the same time, your mind consumed by the images he draws.

“I want to keep cooking for you. Make you smile. Drive you to the dentist…”

“Jisung, you don’t have a car,” you laugh.

“I’ll get one. And I want to get rid of those fucking doors between us.”

“Jisung.”

You open your eyes, grab his face so he looks at you in the eyes.

“Will you kiss me?”

Jisung pushes your hair away from your face and does exactly that.

Some time later, you smile.

You have not drawn the curtain yet, so the moonlight penetrates the window, illuminating the room in soft blues. You graze your nose against Jisung’s chest, listening to him breathe. He’s slowly falling asleep beside you, the covers drawn over your naked bodies.

“Hey, you know what? It worked. I haven’t thought about studying all night,” you whisper to him.

You hear him chuckle. “Hm. I don’t even know what you’re referring to. My head is completely empty.”

“So is mine,” you say with a laugh, planting a kiss on his warm skin. “I can’t even remember what day of the week this is.”

“I can only think about you,” Jisung replies, stroking your hair. “I like you a lot.”

“Me too, Ji. Me too.”

I'm so sorry for not updating as much as I used to. I hurt my shoulder pretty bad and couldn't write for a while, and now my head won't let me.

Let me know if you enjoyed this! Thank you for all of your support and love. ♡

taglist: @ughbehavior ; @upallnight-s ; @changbinluvr ; @rosexjimin ; @nasiaisan ; @lotus-dly ; @cb97percent ; @j-0ne25 ; @hwan-g ; @jhopesucker ; @leedunno ; @septicrebel ; @imtoooyoungforthisshit ; @sikebishes ; @sai-kida134 ; @sstarryoong ; @alexis-reads-fics ; @luvsskz ; @beautifulcolorgarden ; @sensitiveandhungry

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strongheartneteyam · 10 months ago

Text

Everyone wants him, that was my crime.

Pairing: Neteyam Sully x female!omatikaya!reader

cw: mostly angst, TRIGGER WARNING for Reader being bullied bad by some Omatikaya girls, the perks of dating a popular boy (irony alert), hurt/comfort, neteyam reassuring Reader, some fluff, a stab in the heart disguised as a fic basically

So, this is just an angsty Neteyam fic inspired by “Slut!” by Taylor to make you guys suffer with me, I guess.

na'vi words: tweng (loincloth), nantang (viperwolf), tanhì (star - term of endearment)

Not proofread.

ᝰ

Love thorns all over this rose

I'll pay the price, you won't

But if I'm all dressed up they might as well be looking at us

And if they call me a slut

You know, it might be worth it for once

“Slut!” (Taylor Swift)

ᝰ

You were dressed in your best tweng, one you had spent a long time making, wearing your best beaded long necklace to cover your breasts and even wearing some flowers to decorate your black, silky hair.

But none of that mattered. They laughed at you. The girls you thought were pretty and just so skilled and… popular. Something that you were never able to be, it didn't matter how hard you tried when you were a teenager. You were now a 22 year old girl, so, being popular did not matter to you anymore but it did not mean that having only one friend and having those girls look funny at you stopped hurting. The harassment did not stop there, it also included pushing you, putting their feet in front of you so you could trip and then pretending they hadn't done anything, saying something smelled bad whenever you were close to them and laughing inside their little group, making you smell your arms and your hair to try and see if you were the one who was smelly, just for the sadistic pleasure of messing with your head. You were a strong girl but stuff like that would bring down even the bravest na'vi female warrior.

“She thinks she's from the Tawkami clan, all dressed with flowers like this.” The girls would mock and laugh as you passed by

Your sad big amber eyes focused on the ground as shame and self doubt covered your body and beat you up from the inside.

Yes, you did love wearing flowers, sometimes wearing them in many different places in your body, on your hair and on necklaces over your breasts, but you never thought it was a bad thing until they pointed it out. It got to a point where you just couldn't take that many comments about your flowers anymore, the ones you used to pick up in the forest with a chest filled with joy. It used to be an incredibly wholesome, spiritual activity for you, but at those following days, you only felt rage and pain when you looked at your flowers. Poor them. It wasn't their fault. They were as pretty as ever. But you decided to tone it down and now you only wore a flower crown most days.

It was hard to relax. You could almost never be at ease when you were walking around the tribe, trying to focus on doing your chores as an Omatikaya, because you never knew when some girl would make a mean comment or just laugh at you, leaving you wondering if you looked weird or walked funny.

You tried to convince yourself that it was worth it, that you would get through it to be with the boy you loved, the one you were promised to and was soon to go through a mateship ritual with in front of the whole clan to bond you two together forevermore.

But it was insanely hard and sometimes it felt like you couldn't breathe.

Being Neteyam Suli's, the Omatikaya tribe heartthrob, mate to be was challenging to say the least. And yes, you knew that you were being bullied because he had chosen you. When it all started, you tried to convince yourself it was all in your head, that there must be another more rational reason for you to be bullied by those girls, that they couldn't be doing all this out of jealousy. It seemed too stupid, childish and… cruel, honestly. But even Neteyam pointed it out to you.

“Don't be sad because of those girls, tanhì. They are mad because you're mine and they wish they were in your place. But I chose you because I saw something in you that I didn't see in any of them. You're always honest, you have a childlike light in your eyes and a pure soul. They got nothing on you and that's why they treat you badly.”

He had told you those words one day when you were crying about being excluded from the girls’ friendship groups in the tribe. Neteyam's words reassured you of his love and made you feel better but the wounds still hurt.

Sometimes, the worst part of you told you to give up on him, that it was too difficult to bear, all those nantang like girls scorching you with their mean eyes every time they saw you walking around holding hands with Neteyam. But after a while, when you could think more rationally, you would think about how it would be unfair to him to do that. So what if those petty girls made you suffer? Making Neteyam suffer because you couldn't be brave enough to deal with that hardship would hurt you way more. Neteyam was worth it, he treated you like a princess, like you were the most beautiful, the most precious thing he had ever laid eyes upon. You'd be damned if you threw a love like that away because of other people's envy.

ᝰ

Taglist:

@luvv4j4ybe11

@criticallybella

@yeosxxx

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thinkingotherwise · 7 months ago

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Hello🤸‍♀️, I hope you are well.Could I request Sakura, Kiryu and Suou (individual) madly in love with a reader who is super talented in dancing, gymnastics and is super strong?

The reader is preferably female, 1'56 tall, who dances ballet but her body is not thin but rather more vuluptuous or curvy. Her left eye is somewhat strange since her pupil has a not very defined star. Since she was little, she has had incredible strength by nature (her way of fighting is mostly with her legs on tiptoe), she uses very well-groomed nail designs with complicated but well-groomed designs. and she has a funny personality, kind even if her words don't say it, playful and with peculiar tastes for many things, but very loyal to those she trusts.I'm sorry if this request is too long or if you don't make requests with that many characters, it's okay to reject it, but if not I would love to see more of your writing.

Got a little sick, but I'm better now. Hope everyone is doing great.

I read the request and immediately my thoughts went to the reader being someone like Katelyn Ohashi. She is so passionate, joyful, and talented.

Haruka Sakura, Mitsuki Kiryu, Hayato Suou x fem! Dancer/Gymnast! reader

You could say that Haruka knew you were strong since the beginning of your relationship. He knew that dancing and gymnastics were very demanding and helped your lower body become more powerful.

Haruka Sakura

The thing Haruka loved the most about you was you being so passionate about your hobbies and so merry whenever you let yourself go.

However, when he first saw your raw strength, you already dated but were still in this early stage. Somehow you found yourself in the gym together and he spent every minute nearby, keeping a watchful eye on your figure, and trying to show everyone else that you were his. And when you, after Haruka's persistence, did some kicking practice on the punching bag, he was shocked and awed. Noticing the power in your kicks and the strength in your legs made him blush. You were just perfect. At that moment he was falling even more in love with you if that was possible.

As time passed throughout your relationship, he asked you to help him with his gymnastic skills that he sometimes used during fights. But truthfully it was just a pretext to see you more often and spend even more time together, while also supporting your passions and letting you train yourself.

Observing you for so much time he noticed everything about you. The star in one of your eyes was something he started thinking of as fate, because your uniqueness of eyes matches his. And because of that, he loved staring at your eyes, even though he easily got flustered. He did it stealthily. His eyes full of love for you and all your passions.

Haruka like no one else understands your drive for dancing and gymnastics and loves it when you talk about it. He lets you talk his ear off because he feels like he can encourage you to continue moving further and pushing your limits, just like you support his passion for fighting and being the best fighter.

And what would be a better way to show his support than going to your practice from time to time and watching you from the sidelines as you have so much fun doing something you love?

Haruka entered the room when you were mid-practice and sat on the bench on the sidelines. His eyes moved to you and never left from the moment he came into the room.

You, at the same time, were so into your routine, that you didn't notice anyone joining your little session. Moving around the place with focus but also joy evident on your face.

Haruka was amazed, at how something so hard and dangerous to perform seemed so easy when you did it. All these complicated figures and poses.

"Woah.." He muttered to himself again and again through the routine.

As you finished, your eyes from focused turned soft and joyful and a distinct sound of clapping echoed in your ears.

"Oh, when did you get in Haru?" Your gaze followed your flustered boyfriend sitting quietly and watching.

Haruka was far from passing by, he actually came here right after his patrol knowing well enough you'd be here. He just needed his daily dose of you and your smiles, although he wouldn't confess to it even if someone asked him. Well, maybe if it would be you, maybe then.

While being in the same room as you and seeing you training it was certain that he got red in the face. Honestly, it's all because of your curves and how good you look in your sportswear.

"A few minutes ago, just passed by and thought you'd be here." He said casually but there was nothing casual or random in this.

After a few seconds, he hesitantly stood up and walked towards you. You tried to teach him some of the steps of your choreography but they seemed to cause him some issues. Still, he spent the rest of your practice trying his hardest and your heart filled with love when he showed so much appreciation to your interests.

"Oh, so you were watching me all this time?" Your eyebrows furrowed and you jutted your hip out making your curves even more visible and also his face redder.

"Didn't want to disturb you."

"Well, you can always join me." You replied to his mutter and he jumped in his seat.

Mitsuki Kiryu

Mitsuki loved the fact he could be part of your hobbies, even if it meant him helping you choose outfits, or giving you his own.

Not only clothes you wore were making him crazy for you, but it was also the colourful nails and how it seemed you didn't break them even when you trained so hard every day. He honestly loved it when he could go with you to the nail salon and help you pick out the patterns and colours on your nails, sometimes even having his nails done as well and most certainly matching yours in one way or another.

Having Mitsuki as your boyfriend you were used to him gushing over your clothes, nails, and makeup. He would be the one who appreciated your style the most.

He adored watching you wear his cardigans and sweaters seeing as they hug you in all the right places on your shapely body. Especially when all you had under them were your leotards and/or other tight clothes. Mitsuki would even go as far as always carrying backup clothing whenever visiting you hoping you'd wear it.

Your sweet boyfriend loved showing up with matching things and letting everyone around know you were his just as much as he was yours. He would even show up during your competitions or training with clothes matching your sportswear and cheering you on. He was so head over heels for you.

Mitsuki loved having accessories in his hair and because of your star-shaped pupil, he started buying himself some matching pins that he could place in his hair. As soon as he saw something star-shaped he thought of you and your pretty eyes, and would usually message you sending a photo. You also loved the thought and bought him even more accessories sharing them with him.

Mitsuki took you on a lot of dates and after one of them when you were walking back you found yourself walking through the park.

"Would you like something to drink?" Your boyfriend asked as he motioned towards the nearby alley and vending machine.

"Actually yes, can you get me my favorite?" You asked and he nodded.

He kissed your cheek and quickly ran up to the vending machine picking up your drinks. During that, you found some bench and as you were walking towards it a random guy, you didn't know came to you. He eyed you up and down before standing in front of you and smirking.

"Hi there doll."

"Ugh.. sorry but I'm not interested." You said awkwardly trying to turn away from him but he grabbed your wrist keeping you in your place.

"Oh come on surely you can find some time for me." He continued pestering you and you once again tried being nice.

"No thank you, I've got a boyfriend."

He smirked at that making a show of looking around and then leaning closer to you.

"Can't see him here."

You stepped back and frowned at him.

"Come on it will be fun, I bet I could be better than this dumb boyfriend of yours." He cut in before you could say anything gripping your hand tighter and pulling you towards him.

"Leave me alone." You said between gritted teeth trying to keep calm and not the irritation you felt get the best of you.

"You should be thankful someone like me even talk to a bitc-"

You felt your your anger bubbling inside and before he could finish you harshly jerked your hand away from his grip. Taking a quick step back you sent an annoyed, strong kick in his belly making him gasp and stumble back into the tree.

Hearing the annoyance in your voice Mitsuki stepped closer to the man and nudged him with his foot. The man groaned in response but when he saw the look on your boyfriend's face he quickly gathered himself and ran away.

Mitsuki seeing that someone was so close to you ran from the vending machine with your drinks in hand. He was angry, how could some dumb guy come so near you? But the moment he saw you kicking the idiot back and him falling into the tree a smile grew on his face.

"Did this brat disturb you?" His voice grew more annoyed as he handed you your drink.

"Yes, he was quite annoying."

Mitsuki sighed deeply and moved towards you embracing you tightly.

"Sorry it took so long and I didn't see him earlier." He moved his free hand over your back in a comforting manner trying to calm you down.

"'s alright." You mumbled in his chest letting his warm envelope you and drain your anger.

"But that was something else, I wasn't aware your kicks could be so powerful." His voice became more joyful and a chuckle left his lips.

"You really beat him up quite well."

Even though he knew you were strong, Mitsuki was really impressed when you kicked the man so hard that he flew into the tree. You were really something else and that's why he loved you.

Hayato Suou

Being able to show you how much you mean to him in front of others, and letting him shower you with words of admiration is what Hayato loved the most.

Sometimes the cookies would be star-shaped and when he would see them at the bakery he would send you a pic saying he misses you, or that he saw it and bought it just because it reminds him of you, and that in itself is an invitation to come and spend some time with him and that if you didn't want the whole thing you could even have a small bite. He tried to make you as comfortable and confident with your body as he could. Because he loved everything about you.

You frequented tea times shared with Hayato, that he insisted on having, because he would always prepare some special blends depending on how you felt. You also didn't mind as you loved it when he shared his tea with you talking about the new types and their benefits.

With that, he would always prepare some small snacks that he encouraged you to taste. If you were denying it, he would make sure you knew he loved all of your cute curves.

Hayato was very open about showing off the relationship the two of you have, calling you his star and it was both because of your eye but also because you're literally the star for him when it comes to dancing, ballet, and gymnastics.

The two of you sometimes trained together, as Hayato was doing martial arts. Both of you sometimes warmed up and stretched before he would start training while you did your routine. His eyes would frequently search you as he was impressed with the strength you possess in your legs and how flexible you could be.

And once when he saw you beating the shit out of your pointy shoes he teased saying he wouldn't want to anger you if that was how you treat your shoes.

So whenever you two are out he would see someone he knew he loved showing you off. Praising your skills and talking about how good you look when having fun during your routines. He wasn't afraid to say with a straight face how much you mean to him.

It also showed when he was cheering for you before, during, and after your competitions or shows. Hayato was your biggest fan and he did everything he could to show it.

For the first few times, he would bring you some flowers, a bouquet, a single rose. It was different each time. Your room quickly became full of his gifts and as much as you loved it, you worried he spent too much money on you so you told him about your concerns. He understood you and told you he'd try to keep it less expensive.

"What is that?" You questioned after yet another show you took part in.

Hayato stood in front of you with a little smirk holding what seemed like a bouquet of flowers but it was paper-made. The colourful papers were expertly folded and matched each other in every aspect.

"A little present for you, it was less expensive just like you wanted." He said clearly pleased with the reaction you showed.

Were you surprised? Yes. Awed? Yes. Did you like it? Yes, yes, yes.

You grabbed the bouquet from his hands and brought it closer to your face, observing each flower carefully.

"So I guess you still like it?" He asked and you nodded your head fervently a big smile blooming on your face.

"Of course I do, thank you."

You quickly hugged him and he embraced you, thankful you appreciated his gift.

You didn't need to know it but he spent a few days learning how to fold paper flowers making sure they would look perfect. And spending those hours was so worth it, if it meant he could see you smile so joyfully.

"Did it take you long to make it?" You asked suddenly aware that origami sometimes could be time-consuming and the flowers in your bouquet didn't look all that easy to make.

"Not really, only like 2 hours." He said it so nonchalantly you had to look at him.

"But it was clearly worth it, seeing as it made you this happy." His eyes met yours and he gave a quick peck on your forehead before smashing your body into a hug once again.

Tags: @misticbullet

#wind breaker (satoru nii) x reader #wind breaker (satoru nii)#wind breaker x reader #wind breaker #haruka sakura x reader #mitsuki kiryu x reader #hayato suou x reader

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robin-the-enby · 9 months ago

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Hi! Can I get an angst/comfort fic of Arthur with a female s/o who is depressed and suicidal? Like he walks in on his s/o c*tting while having a mental breakdown? Or he just notices the cuts/scars? Or he walks in on his s/o bl33ding out?? Idk you can get creative with it I’ve just been having an extremely rough couple months. If this makes you uncomfortable then you can just ignore this request, but thanks anyways! I hope you have a great day/night!! <3

It's my problem if I feel the need to hide

Pairing: Arthur x f!reader

Summary: You feel under the weather, but decide not to tell anyone. As your condition only worsens, your friends start to worry about you. It's when you decide to let everything go your knight with blue eyes and a cheeky smile comes to the rescue.

Warnings: depression, suicidal ideation, not being able to care for oneself (containing lack of hygiene and proper meals), mentions of vomit(ing) (3), negative self talk, dark thoughts

A/N: I am so sorry for the delay of this fic, I hope it will be of use to you still. I haven't written for this fandom in a long while, so getting back to it was a little hard, though I enjoyed it none the less. I tried not to use any (Y/N)s and make it as racially neutral as possible, as well as appearance-neutral (Arthur carries reader 1 time, but he's stronger than a regular human, and y'all deserve it ladies, no matter your size). If anyone wants to talk about anything at all, my dms are open, as well as my ask box. Take care of yourselves and stay safe!

The human mind is possibly nature's greatest invention. The complexity with which all its components interact to keep the body functioning is nothing short of phenomenal. And not only that, but it is aware of itself, encasing its own conscience inside a safe vessel, built and evolved specifically to protect it. And as time progressed, and all the basic needs of the body were cared for, there came a need to create. The body could easily be fed, but the conscience needed a different type of sustenance.

The human mind is capable of incredible things. It can set goals for itself as well as achieve them. It shaped the entire world to its liking, for better or for worse. The human mind is the reason why we live the lives we do today. It is the thing that keeps us alive and sane.

It's funny how drastically that can change.

If you'd ask any of the men residing in the mansion on who the worst enemy of humans is, you're sure all of them would at least mention the human conscience, if not directly choose it. After all, their lives have been woven through with the thread of sorrow, the perpetrator being none other than the human mind- theirs or someone else's.

At this point, you feel like you've at least got a peek at the complex inner worlds of history's greatest minds. Some you knew better than others, but you've been le Comte's servant for long enough to consider all the mansion's residents at least friends.

It was evident to anyone who has been in the mansion for at least a month that all of the people (and vampires) residing in it had some sort of baggage, wearing them down even in their second undead life. Some were better at hiding it than others, some just felt more comfortable keeping their troubles to themselves, while others' emotions and traumas were sometimes too great, too overwhelming to be kept locked inside their bodies.

You've tried your best to help those who needed it, both physically and mentally. It helped a few to open up to you at least a little and as time went on, with your hard work, you've earned respect for yourself even amongst the toughest nuts in the mansion. Poking through others' personal affairs and traumas carried along numerous fights as well as apologies and in the end just served to strengthen the bond between you and the residents. And yet, at times like these...you couldn' help but feel alone.

Like all the others, you had to shoulder the burden of traumas, insecurities and unpleasant experiences collected unwillingly throughout your life. You suspected the others knew of this, or at least had a hunch that you, like all of them, haven't had the pleasure of living a carefree life.

They saw you as an independent, strong and courageous woman, resilient and kind in any situation. And if you were in the right state of mind, you would agree. But lately, you began to doubt these traits of yours, the ones you valued so much and were valued for.

You weren't a stranger to struggling and you knew that anyone in need of help deserved to receive it and should not be scared to ask for it.

So why did the thought of asking for help make your stomach churn?

You've been pondering that question for a few days now. Lately, your entire reality seemed to have shifted. At first, you didn't think anything was wrong, a simple bad day, or a bad week wasn't anything to be too worried about. Nothing a nice, relaxing weekend couldn't fix, right? And yet, when you had tasks to complete, you felt agitated and annoyed, but when you had nothing to do, you were antsy and restless. Always feeling like something should be happening, like you should be doing something. For some reason, you couldn't make yourself to do the things you felt you should be doing.

Soon everything has become a bother. Tasks you could usually do with one hand were suddenly so hard that by the end of the day, the thought of bathing or changing into clean clothes made you want to scream until your throat was sore. And so you chipped away at your routine that you so painstainkingly built when you appeared in this time, until the only remaining activities in your days were your work and some basic necessities.

You knew it was getting bad. And it constantly created an almost numbing whirlwind of emotions you really didn't need right now. Why was this happening? What brought it on? Why now?? Is it going to get worse? All these questions and none you had an answer to. You had guesses and various techniques you learnt here and there back in your time, but...you couldn't bring yourself to do anything.

You were trapped. At least it felt like it. Trapped inside yourself, inside your mind. You knew you should tell someone, that if you let it go on, it would sooner or later consume you. But you couldn't do anything. It was as if your body didn't listen to you.

It seemed the residents were starting to get suspicious of your strange mood as of late. There were times when one of them would approach you and carefully ask about your wellbeing, and as much as you wanted to say something, you never did. You logically knew that the first step would be the one to break through the loop, the one that would make all the others just a little bit easier until you felt normal again. But anytime you tried to break through the selfdestructive habits you had fallen into, a wave of such tirednes, nausea and shame overcame you, that you simply caved to your mind's twisted whispers.

You concluded that your best option at this moment was to lay low and let it pass. Your days have become a steady routine of wake up, work, go to bed. And repeat. It was manageable, at first, even with the onslaught of thoughts your mind was conjuring, managing to come up with more and more ways to taunt you with. But as days and then weeks passed, your energy slowly seeped away from your body and it retaliated by shutting off and out anything unnecessary to save as much of what was remaining.

These things included mostly socialising. You became less talkative, while you would usually enthusiastically engage in conversations, if not outright start them, lately you would not speak unles directly spoken to. It has taken a toll on your concentration as well. Many times when someone would try to strike up a conversation with you, they'd have to repeat their question or even call out your name mid-conversation, because mentally you just weren't there. These things not only started to worry Sebastian, your biggest constant in your new life, given that you worked alongside him every day, but also the other residents. You knew of this, as out of it as you might have seemed and/or have been these past few weeks, you knew that they noticed, because you knew them. But what started as a simple snowball had alrady turned into an avalanche and you had to admit that you were no longer in control.

Not that you really cared. You knew you should care, should be trying harder than ever to break out of this spell, but you couldn't. And every time you might have felt strong enough to confess how you were feeling, to lean on someone, to get the help you knew you needed, a sudden pang of fear pierced your chest and you shrivelled back, back into your own small shell that was your skull.

Trying to find a reason for this foolish anxiety proved not so easy, when your mind would make up about five reasons why you should keep your mouth shut every time you even dared to ask yourself such a question.

What if they didn't believe you?

What if it wasn't not that bad?

What if you were just making it up? Making it seem bigger than it is?

These people have gone through so much. They've seen war, witnessed and felt abuse and probably had been through things you couldn't even imagine. Why should they help you, when they're the ones who needed help?

You were not worthy.

Such comparisons were something you chastised anyone who would confess experiencing them for. And yet, when it came to you, it felt like a holy truth. Something that could not and should not be questioned. Because you don't want to be selfish, do you?

You've dealt with this by yourself before, surely you could do it again and not drag down others with you. These and many others became your daily mantras. Lay low, hide, be small, don't make a noise. Survive. But was that really how you wanted to live? If you could even call that a living. You were surviving, yes, but at what cost? For a promise of a period of time where you wouldn't feel like the world is made out of cardboard? A period of time where you wouldn't feel like screaming and crying every second of every day? And how long would that last? A few months, a year maybe? Was it really worth the struggle?

You blinked yourself out of your thoughts when someone vigorously snapped in front of your eyes. Looking around in slight daze, your eyes fall upon a smiling face. "There you are! Theo says he's just waiting for you to walk face first into a wall!" Arthur says cheerily, showing you his signature smirk. "I, like the good friend I am, keep defending you of course. But it's hard when your mind seems to get further and further away from us every day. At this rate, you'll wander off into Seine soon. And we wouldn't want that, would we?" he playfully jabbed at you.

You could feel yourself shaking your head, but the only thing you could focus on was how nice it acually seemed, the cold water seeping through clothes and circling your limbs, the undercurrents keeping you down, where nothing could get you, laying you down onto the riverbed, weighed by the water in your lungs... "So, what's going on in that noggin of yours, hm?"

Arthur was, besides Sebastian, the closest person to you out of all the others. You enjoyed his easygoing demeanor and his jokes never failed to make you laugh. He was a terrible flirt though, and someties could be pretty pushy with his advances as you've realised over the time you two spent together. Luckilly, after a firm conversation backed up by Theo, he had calmed down significantly towards you. The writer still heavily complimented you, always putting that silver tongue of his to use, but you thought nothing of it. He was like that with everyone, even some of the other residents, so the possibility of it ever meaning anything more than banter or a simple compliment never even crossed your mind.

"You're doing it again." the man in question sighed. You blinked at him with confusion. As if reading your thoughts, Arthur clarified "You're in your head again. It must be something really interesting in there to make you so distracted." he joked again, but his expression turned serious "But honestly, what's going on? You haven't been yourself for quite a while now and everyone's getting worried. Even Wolf asked me if I knew what was up with you the other day!" the writer looked at you intently "You know that we're here for you, right? Even if you feel like it's stupid, if you need anything, you can tell us."

You averted your eyes from Arthur' piercing gaze. You knew his words were sincere and it made your chest squeeze uncomfortably. Looking straight ahead, in the direction which you were going, you answered, trying to make your voice as leveled as you could "Thank you for worrying Arthur, but I'm alright, really. I've been thinking of asking le Comte for a break. It would be nice to have some off time." This wasn't a complete lie, since having some down time, where you could pretend time has stopped really did sound appealing, but now you'd have to actually go and ask the good count, which you really didn't want to. Not because you were worried you wouldn't be given a break, but because it was another plan to be made and you barely had enough energy to last you until the end of the day, much less go somewhere out of your own volition.

Arthur knew that you were lying, or at least not telling him everything, so he grinned at you again and spoke confidently "Alright, love, the game is on! I gave you a chance to explain youself, but it seems I'll have to solve this mystery myself." he winked at you and you expected him to take his leave. But Arthur softly grabbed your arm and stopped you in the middle of the halway you were in. Turning to face him in his hold you looked at him questioningly. His smile is much softer now, and if you could focus properly, you would see worry glinting in his eyes "If you ever change your mind, you can stop by. Day, night, doen't matter. We're here for you, love. I'm here for you. Just as much as you're here for us." and as soon as he finished speakig, he was gone. Down the hallway, in the direction of his room. You quietly turned around, trying to process the strange encounter while you went your way.

Your mind was surprisingly quiet for a few hours after that.

You eventually did end up in le Comte's study. Nerves were wracking your body and mind the entire day and when you finally did enter the dreaded room, after all your chores were done for the day, you felt like you would start crying at any moment. For some reason, you felt awful for doing this. You didn't need the break. You didn't need off time to get better physically or because you had too many chores. Why did you want a break, besides Arthur catching on that there was, indeed, something wrong? The only thing you had planned for this break of yours was rotting away in your bed and doing as little as humanely possible. Maybe fate would be so kind and take you away in your sleep. Let you wither away like an overwatered flower.

You tried to make the discussion as quick as possible. Fortunately, the count didn't ask too many questions about your wellbeing and the reason for taking a break, remembering well that you haven't had one in a good while. He did ask if you consulted Sebas about it and you forced down a shudder at the mention of your good friend's name. Not because the butler was opposed to you taking a break, he actually kindly insisted you take one, revealing that he also noticed your mental absence in the past weeks, which could be almost counted as a month now. The worry and confusion in his tone as well as his expression made you wish he told you to stay, to help him, anything to try and convince you to not do what you were about to.

Why were you so worried? There wasn't a reason you should feel bad about taking a break. Even if you physically were just as spry as a grasshopper, taking a break for the sake of mental health was just as important. But deep down, you coudn't lie to yourself. Deep down you knew you were going to give up completely. Either for someone to find you, or to be left to rot. And right now, you hoped for the latter, even if it was still scary to admit.

After Comte gave you a week off, asking if it was enough time for you, which you hastily confirmed, feeling bile rise up your throat and wishing for the comfines of your room, your shaky legs and hazy mind managed to carry you to your room. After spending some time emptying the contents of your stomach, which were absolutely too small you would bet, you nothing but collapsed onto your bed. Mouth unrinsed, hair oily and ruffled, it had finally dawned on you how much of a mess you must have loked like. This realisation finally seemed to open the dam that was holding back everything you were feeling. The disgust, the shame, the fear, the anxiety the heavines, the loneliness, but most importnatly the longing.

Fast, salty tears carried all of that out of your body, leaving your face a puffy, sticky mess. Suddenly, you felt rage boil inside of your chest, sprading quickly to your head. Why didn't you say anything? You were so worried and because of what? Your own mind? Could you be any more stupid? The very same mind that put you through absolute hell this past month was now angry at itself, at its own actions. Why did the world have to be this cruel? Why couldn't it grant you the simple request of a mind that would not try to sabotage itself? And now it was too late.

Yo chose this, you thought to yourself. You chose this and these were the consequences of your actions. As if the tears have released all your pent up frustration in your body, all that it left was numbness. A kind of numbness that made your eyelids heavy, making them gravitate towards each other and pulling you into a deep, calm slumber. The kind of slumber you have not been able to achieve for more than the month you've been actively suffering. But also the kind of slumber that would not bring you closer to salvation.

You woke up, not knowing the time and not really finding yourself caring either. You felt strangely...calm. There was no hunger, no thirst, nothing. Only suffocating quiet, the likes of which you would feel in the deep blue of the ocean. You laid stil for what felt like hours, but could have also been minutes, before you succumbed to unconsciousness again.

This has gone on for a few days of your week long break. At one point you felt the pang of hunger, yet you had no will to satiate it. You only rose from your bed late into the night, when the squeezing walls of your stomach, at this point surely eating itself, threatened to spill nothing but its own acid. You tiptoed as quietly as your stiff muscles could into the kitchen, and after munching on some bread and water, because even though you got up, you still didn't feel like cooking, or that you deserved anything more than the simplest of dishes, you quietly stalked the halls back into your room. You fell asleep again, your stomach satisfied, or maybe convinced into satisfaction by your mind, the last thing you heard was the faint sound of Mozart's piano in the dead of the night.

This cycle had repeated for another few days. Your days were interrupted by quiet knocking that would wake you from your slow decline, and sometimes joined by murmurs behind the door. You couldn't find it in you to care. The door wasn't locked. At one point, you could swear you saw a shadow in your window, but it was gone too soon for your slowed mind to focus on it.

One morning, somewhere at the end of your break, not that you were keeping track of time, your door opened. A gust of fresh air was the first thing that barged its way into your room, chasing out the old and musty, albeit warm air from it. You shivered and wiggled deeper under your covers, grumbling hoarsely in protest. Your half asleep mind registered someone slowly walking into your room, as if they were scared to find out what was in it. You kept your eyes closed.

Arthur knelt down beside your bed, looking at your sickly, worn out face. Carefully sneaking his arm under your blanket, his hand searched for yours until it could take it into its own. Caressing your knuckles with his thumb, he cooed softly "Oh, love. I am so sorry. I am so sorry we let this get so far." You didn't respond. What was there to say? "It isn't your fault" you croaked out quietly, not having enough energy to say it loudly and fearing your voice wouldn't work.

"Why did you hide from us? We would've helped..." the writer almost whined, and you could feel the guilt and worry radiating from him. You wanted so desperately to answer, to give him a good reason for how foolish you were acting, but you couldn't. There was nothing that would excuse you. Nothing.

Seeing your slightly open eyes well up with tears, Arthur rushed closer to comfort you. Shushing and soothing you like a small child after a booster shot, he held you close and you tried not to weep hader. "It's alright, love, everything is alright. I've got you. I've got you now, it's good. You're alright."

After you calmed down slightly, you wanted nothing more than to shoo him away, close yourself off again an bury yourself into your bed to get away from the immense shame you felt. But Arthur seemed to be having none of that. He softly but insistently reached under you and helped you sit up with one arm, holding your hand with the other still. you couldn't bring yourslf to look him in the eye and yet his tone never changed from the soft lull he comforted you with. "Come on now, darling. Let's get you cleaned up."

Your mind wanted desperately to push back at him, scream and yell and fight, but you almost limply let him straighten you up and help you walk over to the bathroom. The writer's heart nearly broke in two as he saw you in the same clothes you were in when he last spoke to you. The image of you suffering in silence for so long made him nearly tear up as well, but he held himself back, focusing on you being his biggest priority.

He ran a bath for you, helped you out of your clothes, his gaze never cascading from your face, looking for any signs of overstepping any boundaries and when he found none, he helped you into the bathtub, first washing your hair and then your body, asking if you could and wanted to handle your private parts yourself. You whispered out a small yes, feeling somewhat ashamed still and wanting to make his efforts a bit easier. Letting you soak in the blissfully warm water, a question appeared in your mind "Arthur..." you called out quietly "Were you the one knocking at my door?" you asked timidly, not knowing fully if it wasn't some kind of delirium your mind put you through. The writer's face became solemn as you took a peek at his face and he spoke, his words and tone equally heavy "Everyone did. We were worried about you. After we heard about your break, we thought it might do you well. Everyone noticed that you weren't quite yourself. But after the first few days, when no one ever saw you leave the mansion, let alone your room, our worries doubled. Wolf said he noticed you walking to the kitchen at night, but Sebas only noticed small portions of bread disappearing from the kitchen, so we wanted to check up on you. We tried knocking at your door, not wanting to disturb you if you really were physically ill, but that didn't do anything." "And the window?" you interrupted him, casting your eyes downward again at the rude gesture. But Arthur continued, with no offense taken "That was Dazai. He was checking up on you a lot. In his own way." Arthur smiled sadly "Today, I had enough. Something was telling me you needed help. And I'm glad I listened to my instinct." he smiled at you and you felt your dry lips lift up ever so slightly. You were found when you needed it the most, it seemed.

After Arthur dried you off and helped you put on fresh clothes, he told you Sebas made a nutritious meal for you that wouldn't upset your stomach. He also suggested it would do you good to get out of your room for at least a little while and eat it in the kitchen. Seeing the panic in your eyes, he rushed to assure you "You don't have to talk to anyone if you don't want to." And so you nodded.

The mansion seemed awfully quiet. There was no one in the halls, no sounds from either corner of the building. On your slow trek to the kitchen, you passed Mozart. The musician didn't say anything, but his lips melted from their usual stern frown to a warm smile and you couldn't help but to start crying again. Athur sat down with you on the cold ground of the hallway, pulling you onto his lap and rocking you back and forth until you felt good enough to walk again. Mozart was nowhere in sight.

You found out that Sebas made you a delicious soup, one with enough vegetables and some meat, the broth strong enough to get you up on your feet in no time. You ate slowly and savoured every spoonful. You suddenly realised how much you've missed eating good food. After your meal was done and Arthur washed your bowl and spoon in silence, he slowly sat down next to you. "How are you feeling?" he asked carefully, knowing that you were nowhere near out of the deep end yet, but desperately hoping his efforts weren't for naught. "Better. Fuller." you answered simply. After another beat of comfortable silence, where you soaked up the sun pouring in through the windows, the writer asked again "Would you like to go back to your room?" You pursed your lips. Suddenly, the idea of your bed and the stuffy room you hid yourself away in sounded horrible. But he comfortable, fluffy clothes and full stomach were pullig at your eyelids again, sleep threatening to take over. "My room it is, then?"

Arthur piped up and you nodded. Before you knew it, you were scooped up bridal style by the vampire, feeling his soft lips on your hairline "Rest, love. I've got you." Soon, you were in a room that smelled of coffe and cologne with a hint of ink. Once again, you wriggled under the covers, these ones feeling much fresher than yours, as you succumbed to sleep once again. But this time, you weren't alone.

#requested #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp arthur x reader #ikevamp arthur x you #x reader #tw depression #tw suicidality #fem!reader #hurt/comfort #tw emetophobia

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bihanarms · 2 years ago

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Chapter one : Unmasking love

let me warn you, as usual, that I'm just a basic french girl who can make mistakes in her english and spanish :( i apologize in advance, and please don't hesitate to correct me if needed~

After collaborating for several weeks, Luis and (y/n) had become familiar with each other, and a robust professional relationship had blossomed between them. However, he desired something more intimate with this "senorita," as he fondly called her, yet the head of the security team had never shown any interest in his advances. Nevertheless, our handsome searcher remained true to himself and did not give up on trying to charm her.

Fortunately for him, (y/n) was assigned to guard duty every time his search team had an important trip planned, which allowed them to meet frequently. Despite this, after weeks of working together, Luis had yet to catch a glimpse of (y/n)'s face without her helmet, which intrigued him immensely. He had imagined her in countless ways, from a cute blonde with pretty hazel eyes to a charming curly-haired brunette, and he had never seen her skin to guess its color... this mystery was driving him crazier every day.

One day, like any other day, while (y/n) was on guard duty in front of Luis's laboratory, he approached her and asked her once again to show him her face. Using his charming smile and voice as usual, he started « So, querida, I was wondering, as you know, once again... what do you look like under all this gear?" Although (y/n) had heard this many times before, she still replied calmly, "Sorry, Luis, but this information is classified as top secret, and besides, you're in the middle of work. Please stay focused." Despite this negative answer, the young man persisted, he approached her face even closer and started to whisper close to her ear, "Come on, cariña... just take it off for like.. 10 seconds, just for me? Not more."

Shivers ran through her entire body.

(y/n) took a deep breath, trying to hide whatever she was starting to feel at that moment, shook her head, and put a hand on his torso to move him back away from her. "Ask as much as you want, the answer will never change," she said.

Luis pouted. "Por favor? You're not very funny, you know that." (y/n) laughed under her mask and responded, "Oh, I'm very funny, but we're at work, and it seems like you have plenty of work to do, so get to it please, ah-hum sorry, por favor?"

Most of their workdays were spent like this, with Luis flirting with (y/n), showering her with compliments and Spanish nicknames. Although (y/n) appeared indifferent, his persistence made her smile inwardly. She had noticed that the man loved women, perhaps a little too much for her; She sometimes caught him in corridors talking flirtatiously to other female researchers, and (y/n) knew that she needed to stay cautious, besides the fact that she was at work and needed to stay professional.

girl, she was very far from knowing that that boy liked her in a way that was different from any other woman he had met before.

See, on his days off, Luis was always trying to find out more about the military girl but could not find anything interesting. However, he was not just curious about her appearance; he was also attracted to her personality. (y/n) was incredibly strong both physically and emotionally, from what he had seen, and that was something he admired very much. But the thing he liked the most was when she let her guard down, Luis could sometimes see glimpses of humor and sarcasm in their conversations, which surprised him in a good way. It was very rare for her, but it was still good to take, you know.

So despite all his curiosity about her appearance, Luis knew that the real attraction was the whole woman herself. He admired her strength, wit, and intelligence, and he was determined to win over her.

end of the chapter hope you LIKED IT. the rest will be out very soon. feel free to let me know if there’s anything wrong with the storyline or more. have a great day ~

#luis sera #luis sera x reader #re4 remake #re4 #resident evil remake #resident evil #luis serra navarro #luis serra

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carboardserpent · 1 year ago

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Next gen headcanons? 🤔

Like, Jackson, Cruz, Tim, Danny, Chase, and Ryan?

Oh boy, that's a few characters. Alright, strap in then. Probably also gonna throw in Bubba because he's my favourite non-main next gen <3

(Humanised, as always)

(Quick disclaimer for this one, none of these are supposed to reflect on the irl racers that gave their names and voices to them - I'm treating these characters as though they're entirely fictional and not based on/inspired by real people. I make my HCs literally just based on Vibes (and RPs))

Jackson Storm:

6'1 and fit AF. Clearly spends a lot of time in the gym toning his body and muscles. He is male model levels of gorgeous. Physically flawless black man <3

Short black dreadlocks dyed blue at the ends.

Aromantic (female-leaning)bisexual.

Autistic.

Ray knew he was autistic before Jackson even knew himself, and is the reason he even got diagnosed in the first place.

One of his most common complaints is still about the reflections of the sun glinting in his eyes. The loud noise of the track still gets to him occasionally, but he has special earplugs to help him deal with it.

Can usually be seen drinking a can of IGNTR's flagship energy drink before a race. It helps him calm down and focus in. His sponsors love it, for obvious reasons.

Any time he's on camera, he acts calm and cool but internally he's freaking out. If they ask something he doesn't expect, he visibly tenses up and flounders for a second as he tries to figure out what to say, even if it was a simple question.

Doesn't do fan meets or signings unless he absolutely has to. Even then he tries everything he can to get out of them.

His physical attractiveness makes his already poor attitude even worse. Doesn't know how to talk to people, but gets all the praise and attention he could ever want online.

Yes, he posts photos of himself on various social media. He wasn't sure at first, but Ray convinced him to start shortly after his debut race, hoping that it would help reassure him and give him a bit of a confidence boost. Naturally, it went a little TOO well...

He's a gamer through and through. In any downtime he gets, he's still topping the leaderboards on just about every popular racing game you can play online. He also enjoys the occasional game of CoD and will verbally rip anyone to shreds if they try to come at him.

DUBSTEP. He loves it. If his skull isn't rattling from absolutely filthy, grimy bass, he's not interested.

So, of course, he has to have an incredible sound system that's probably worth more than the average person's car.

He doesn't watch anime. (Stop asking him if he does) Most of his entertainment comes from Twitch streams.

He streams himself playing Super Corsa 4 any chance he gets. Which isn't often with the packed NASCAR schedule, but he tries his best. His user is UrStormChasing

Still doesn't get along with Tim after their rivalry in training and isn't very good at pretending he does either. Their crew chiefs have to make deliberate efforts to stop them from running into each other before they get into their cars.

Cruz Ramirez:

5'5 with an athletic build. She is a Latina woman with visible abs and she deserves them gdi.

Side-parted brown hair a little shorter than jaw length, perpetually kinda wild looking.

Chaotic lesbian hours!

ADHD

Literally cannot sleep at night without a big, milky mug of coffee.

It's not normal to wake up and go for a run before even having breakfast?

She's teaching Lightning to use social media more regularly (for better or for worse). His homework is to send her a funny meme or video that he found that week.

The result of this can sometimes be catastrophic. She'll never be able to unhear him uncertainly attempting to use outdated slang.

Almost every race, there's someone complaining about how she doesn't weigh enough and it's unfair to the rest of them. So she forces them to watch as race officials put extra weights in her car.

Has cussed Danny out in Spanish across Pit Road and will do it again if he carries on-

Is probably the only person on Team Dinoco that is actually nice to Cal and doesn't try to tease him. They get along well.

Tim Treadless:

6'0 with a broad frame and light muscle tone.

Tanned skin and tousled brown hair.

Straight ally.

Just call him Mr. Charismatic, everyone loves him.

Everyone except Jackson, that is. Jackson is the only person who brings out his anger to the point of wanting to throw hands.

Has a wife and a baby, bc of course he does.

One of those guys some people hate for being irritatingly perfect. Usually people that don't actually know him.

Has type 1 diabetes and a bad nut allergy.

Was pulled out of a race at the last minute when he went into anaphylactic shock - the entire race was almost stopped when people started to whisper that it was foul play. The race went on, but the only reason for Treadless' absence was that he had to be pulled for "unforseen medical issues".

Some of the other racers still blame Jackson, who actually had nothing to do with it.

Danny Swervez:

5'10 and fairly slender. Not a lot of bulk to him.

Tanned skin (he's Latino) and short black hair.

Cishet male.

This man is FULL of himself. What an attitude.

Genuinely a good racer, but not many people like him.

He's not a good guy. He's given Cruz some trouble for being a woman, though after she embarrassed him by publicly cussing him out in Spanish, he's learned to keep his unpopular opinions on her to himself.

Isn't exactly what we would call "faithful".

But hey, at least he doesn't cheat on the track (smh)

Has just as little respect for the older racers as Jackson, but is less vocal about it.

Is very bitter about Jackson and Tim being more popular than him, yet still does nothing to change himself for the better.

Has at least attempted to physically fight with other drivers that messed with him on the track several times.

Chase Racelott:

5'9 with a build somewhere between Danny and Tim.

Pale skin and dirty-blonde hair.

Straight ally.

Generally a pretty likeable guy. Not as well-loved as Tim, but he has a good amount of pretty dedicated fans.

Makes jokes about being single/available.

Has pretty average performance on the track, not great, but not poor.

Fairly high energy, he gets along well with Cruz.

Probably one of the best with kids. Has a lot of younger fans because of how he interacts with them during meets and signings.

One of the few who will try not to leave until he's spoken to every fan who wanted to meet him, no matter how long it takes.

Often seen hanging around with Ryan - the two of them cause some pretty good natured trouble together, often involving pranks on the other racers.

Ryan "Inside" Laney:

5'11 with a broad build similar to Tim.

Mixed race (¾ Caucasian, ¼ African American), with short black hair.

Closeted bisexual.

Friendly, but not really a standout character as far as the fans are concerned.

Kind of cocky, but in a cool way.

Has a girlfriend who travels with him.

Agent of chaos when he spends too much time with Chase. Don't turn your back on him.

Bubba Wheelhouse

Absolutely massive 6'2 gentle giant

Another gorgeous black man (fight me), his skin tone isn't quite as dark as Jackson's

Closeted homosexual

Has a fake relationship with a lesbian woman who's actually just his best friend (the racing world is scary and the US South probably wouldn't love an openly gay driver)

Kids ADORE him. Him and Chase are the drivers with the most kid fans.

Throws a football around with fans over the catch fence during rain delays (this one is based on the real Bubba Wallace bc its wholesome af)

Gets asked all the weird gay questions by everyone in the friend group. (Ex. "Is it gay if...?" "What is X actually like?")

Legit just trying to mind his own business, he doesn't want any part of drama or rivalries.

Occasionally finds himself roped into girl talk if the guys have their S/Os around. They're very excited to include him. He's too polite to decline.

#i totally didnt forget i had this sitting in my drafts for EVER #im so sorry it took so long to post #i just needed to post this after so long ong i can only apologise #cars headcanons #pixar cars headcanons #jackson storm #cruz ramirez #tim treadless #danny swervez #chase racelott #ryan inside laney #bubba wheelhouse #pixar cars #cars fandom #cars pixar #disney cars #cars 3

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sleepyfins · 28 days ago

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hai!! dis my first ask ever so um!!! can me get one of dem clothign thingys, except based around a sea butterfly OR black dragonfish?

That's awesome! Honoured to be your first ask ever!!!!! Here's your board!

Black dragonfish are known for their incredible jaws - which can open over 100° wide and have huge teeth [though Males lack canines]. In their larval stage, they eyes are on super long eyestalks. They look so funny! Then they grow all serious looking, as their eyes retreat into their body as they age.

They're sexually dimorphic - males are small [5cm/2in] brown, toothless and always remain below 1000m [3,300ft] though often up to 2000m [6,600ft]. Females are black, larger - growing around 40cm [16in] long and migrate from atleast 500m deep to the surface and back, daily.

Their barbel [which only females have] is bioluminescent, emitting infrared light, which they use it to hunt. And they're venomous!

Fish information can be so inconsistent sometimes. Some sources say they can grow up to 35cm, others 40cm and another 53cm!

And they just leave the boys out.

#agere #sfw agere #age regression #sfw age regression #agere blog #boy regressor #boyre #agedre #sfw agedre #fish #dragonfish #black dragonfish #outfit #agere outfits #agere moodboard

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rancidpancakebatter · 2 years ago

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Aaaaah congrats for 200 followers! 🎉🎉🎉 You're incredible writing and deserve even more!

My idea is: 🎵 - IDFC, by Blackbear & TASM Peter Parker. I know it’ll be amazing ❤️

Happiness: and Other Frightening Concepts-[P.P.]

Pairings: College!FWB!Peter Parker x College!Female!Reader

Prompt: IDFC By Blackbear, a song full of angst

Summary: You and Parker have fallen into a situationship of sorts, but that's fine, it's okay. He won't give you anything more and you don't fucking care.

Word Count: 5k words

Content: MINORS DNI: 18+ Swearing, Smut, P in V sex, multiple orgasms, praise kink, dick riding, allusions to Gwen's death,

A/N: Sorry, this took so long. I was gonna write something short but I guess that's just impossible because I can never stfu about this man

You met Peter in your Intro to Sociology class. He was funny and cute and had a lot to say. He sat at the desk next to you. You never talked much, he would come in late sometimes and be quick to leave. But one day he asked if he could borrow your lecture notes and you slipped your number with them.

At first, it was great. You would switch off bringing coffee to class, study in the library, and text all through the day. To say you were easily smitten would be an understatement. He was smooth with flirting, commenting on both your brain and your body. You quickly noticed that you got more compliments when you wore skirts, and now they were a staple in your wardrobe. You really liked Peter, and you thought he liked you too.

Study dates moved to your apartment. The both of you would crowd around your coffee table filled with papers adorned with red ink and smudged highlighter. Slowly they turned less studious, opting to watch a movie on the couch together instead. You would lay under a fluffy throw curled up into him while his hand would rest on your thigh. You had never felt so special.

Ferris Bueller's Day Off was playing, but you couldn’t focus on anything other than the circles Peter was tracing up your leg, getting closer and closer to where you wanted him most. His fingers were toying with the side of your panties and your lungs hitched as you felt his warm breath against your ear.

“(Y/N)...”

It sounded decadent, indulgingly alluring. When you turned to look at Peter his eyes consumed you like a black hole. You could feel yourself being slowly pulled apart and you surrendered to the void.

His lips on yours were everything you had dreamed of and more. Pillowy soft and a lingering taste of something sweet you couldn’t place. His tongue made you dizzy and his fingers made you weak. He plucked you like a violin, knowing just how to play you. He showed you beautiful melodies and you committed them all to heart, entirely at the mercy of your maestro.

That was almost eight months ago. You thought, after that night, everything would change. How silly and naive you were. The “study dates” continued and ended the same: mind-shattering orgasms and poor excuses for why he couldn’t stay, why he wouldn’t be more.

You had convinced yourself that this was fine. That you were fine. That you didn’t care. You didn’t care that you were just a hookup. You didn’t care that he would pop up late at night covered in bruises and no explanation of why. You didn’t care about the empty promises he made. Promises to see you for more than sex. Promises to text you back. Promises that he cared for you.

You sat in your room, reading a book. The summer sun had fallen below the city skyline and now you sat with your friend, the moon. She had held your shaky hands as you remade your empty bed and you as you cried through sleepless nights. She listened to your woes, a silent spectator to your breaking heart.

You were emersed in your reading when your phone went off. A quiet ping, one you recognised all too well. Despite everything in your body telling you not to: you picked it up.

Peter P. :

Can I see you tonight?

You could have said no. You could have chewed him out for not responding to your text from three days ago. You could have put down the phone and not responded at all. But Peter Parker had made you a fool. A fool for him.

(Y/N) (L/I). :

Yeah thats fine

You thanked the moon for her lack of judgment towards you. You had enough for yourself to spare.

Peter P. :

Be over in 30

You freshened up your makeup and put on cuter clothes all while berating yourself for doing so. Peter didn’t care what you were wearing or how you looked. He would pounce you as soon as he got in the door. He would tell you half-truths about how good you felt and how perfect you were. You continued getting ready; you continued to pretend you didn’t care.

Thirty minutes later, you heard a knock on your door. It’s frustrating to know that there are some promises he can keep. You opened the door and Peter grabbed you by the waist, pulling you in for a deep kiss. It was sloppy, teeth knocking together as his tongue felt its way through its second home. He guided you through the doorway, closing the door with his foot before pining you against it.

Your morals and attempts at self-respect blurred when you felt his leg slip between your thighs. You remembered all the reasons you wanted him, needed him. His grip loosened around your waist so his deft fingers could roam your body. His kisses move down the collum of your neck as you run your fingers through his hair. His breath tickled your throat.

“Well, hello to you too.” You giggled.

Peter paused, lifting his head to look deeply into your eyes. A sweet smile stretched across his face.

“Hi,” he whispered softly as he pecked your nose. “How was your day?”

“Boring, you?” His eyes darted across your face fondly.

“Entirely too eventful.”

You took notice of a scratch on his cheek, a small bruise on his jaw. You brought your hands up to trace them. You wanted to ask how and why. You wanted to know what had made his day so “eventful”, but you knew he wouldn’t tell you.

His lips descended back onto yours as you pushed away those thoughts. His hands cupped the back of your thighs and you jumped, knowing this routine well. Once you were in his arms he would grind against you, driving you mad as he kissed you dumb. You would feel how hard he was against you and feel pride.

Then he would take you to your bedroom. He would place you on your bed keeping you pinned against him. He would rip off his shirt and start pulling at yours. Every time you would stop yourself from staring at him, the lean cut muscle. He would lavish your stomach and breast with kisses as he worked on taking off your skirt.

He would render you witless as he lapped at your folds, by now, knowing precisely what to do you make you this way. And if you thought about it, that’s why you continued to do this. That’s why you let him in, night after night. Because you spent every waking hour wondering why you weren’t enough, and in these moments he made you forget. He made it so you didn’t care. A temporary nepenthe; you had become addicted.

You gripped the sheets as he took you for all you were worth. You wanted to grab his hand, to weave your fingers together, but that amount of intimacy wasn’t what he wanted. You compromised, gripping his hair instead and giving it a gentle tug. Peter allowed you to lead him away from you and pull him closer.

You could taste yourself on his tongue, could feel your slick on his lips. You made quick work of unbuttoning his pants. He only pulled away for only a moment to take them off and put on the condom from his back pocket.

He swallowed your moans as he entered you. Your walls stretched around him, clinging to all he would give you. He moved slowly but with force, each time bottoming out and making your toes curl.

Sometimes Peter was sweet and soft, other times quick and rough. It changed depending on what he needed from you. Sometimes he just wanted to feel cared for; other times to forget. Today you weren’t sure what he was using you for, maybe a bit of both.

He worried your nipples with his tongue, his hand coming to hold the one not in his mouth. Dazed, you lay your hand on his back, raking your nail up the expanse of muscle to draw him in. He seemed to understand what you were asking for and picked up the pace.

Your moans filled the room as you clung to him, wanting him closer and closer still. His hands pulled at the back of your thighs once again, resting them on his shoulder. Folded in half, all you could do was take it. You let out a scream as you felt him go deeper. He adjusted his position hitting right where you needed. He had made you a babbling mess, words slipping from your lips you didn’t recognise.

“Ah, fuck. Peter please!” He chuckled at your plea. Peter loves seeing you like this, absolutely desperate for him.

“Yeah, baby? What d’ya need, hmm? You wanna cum again?” He pressed his thumb against your clit, teasing you with a small taste of what he could do.

“Please, please, please” You were whining, begging.

“Always so polite for me.” He started moving his thumb and you almost couldn’t breathe.

Peter opted to kiss your neck, not wanting to miss a single sound you made. God, you were close, so so close. You didn’t have to tell Peter this. He could feel the way you were squeezing him; he could hear your breathy moans raising in pitch. He bit down on the spot he knew was most sensitive and revelled in your broken cry. He could feel you gush around his cock.

“There you go, good girl.” You moaned at his praise, not all there as you tried to catch your breath. Peter moved his thumb away but continued to fuck you slowly.

“Do you think you can keep going?” He punctuated his question with a particularly hard thrust that had you arching your back.

His kisses were soft and patient as he waited for your response. He knew what you were going to say. It’s what you said every time; he just liked hearing you say it.

“Yes, yes, please, don’t stop.” You felt him smile against your neck.

He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his lap. His hand tangled in your hair as he brought you into an earth-shattering kiss.

“Then work for it.”

As you ground down against him, he placed his hands on your hips. His grip was firm; you were sure if he pulled his hands away you would be able to trace marks left by his finger pads.

You did a teasing bounce and the loud moan from both parties made you momentarily concerned about getting a noise complaint. You felt so full with Peter so deep inside you.

“Fuck baby, you feel so good. Do it again.”

You dug your nails into his shoulders and used them as leverage as his cock speared into you. Over and over and over again. Peter threw his head back, soft grunts leaving his puffy, pink lips. He looked so pretty like this: curls stuck to his forehead, eyes closed, mouth open, neck flexed, and altogether lost in you.

Your legs were getting tired and you started slowing down. Peter felt this and wrapped his arm around your lower back, raising your body and slamming it back down. If your mind was even a little clearer, you would have questioned how he was able to do this. But for now, your mind was swimming in the mix of post-orgasm fog and the desperate pre-orgasm haze.

It wasn’t long until the coil in your stomach snapped, relief washing over you. You brought Peter’s lips to yours, devouring him as you came down.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m close.” Peter’s brows were furrowed tightly as he continued bucking into you.

You wove your fingers through his chestnut curls, gripping them tightly so his gaze was focused on you.

“Please, Peter-I need you to cum.” Your words washed through him and he revelled in your silent permission.

He surged forward, once again pinning you on your back. Peter had unexplained stamina and once you had gotten your fill you let him use you to get off. You got off on it too. The way he man-handled you, throwing you around. The way he seemed to move with ungodly speed and force.

Your legs were thrown lazily over his shoulders as he grabbed your hips, keeping them slightly elevated as he pistoned into you. He kept you still as he gave you all he had. Your back arched and your body squirmed, overstimulated as you were drowned in pleasure. Galaxies burned through your veins as Peter continued to thrust into you.

He could feel you pulsing around him, squeezing him. He brought his thumb down to your poor, battered clit once again, knowing you were close. Your brain was effectively shut off, a string of “please” leaving your mouth, though you had no idea what you were asking for. More? Less? Peter? Who's to say?

It wasn’t long until you felt him “lock up.” He stilled inside you, muscles taught, as a deep grunt left his throat. You came then too, feeling him pulse inside you.

“Fuck,” was all he said as he crashed into you, completely wiped from all the work he did.

The sweat from your bodies stuck together as he draped himself across you, his head buried in the crook of your neck. You lay there in the quiet, soaking him up, running your fingers through his hair. You pretended the heavy throbbing of your heart was due to sex, nothing more, nothing less. That didn’t work for long. He felt so right in your arms and you wanted him to stay, to be more.

“Do you wanna order some food? We can have it delivered, maybe watch a movie or something.” You offered the same olive branch you had many times before. The bark was stripped and dead by now.

You felt the silent sigh he let out against your skin and the quiet groan as he began to sit up. You hated that you did this to yourself. Every time it ended the same. You would offer yourself to him and he would graciously decline. This was no different.

“I would but I’ve got some work I need to catch up on. Jameson wants those new photos and I’ve still gotta edit them and…you know how it is.”

Unfortunately, you did.

You move to grab your shirt from the floor, precipitously throwing it back on. Your back faced Peter as you tried to fight off the tears that threatened to fall. Peter didn’t want to stay. He never wanted to stay. Why would you think this would be any different? He doesn’t want you. But that’s fine. You don’t care.

“What?”

Peter’s tone caught you off guard. Well, all of it caught you off guard, but he sounded so…small. Like you had hurt him in some way. You turn to look at him, not sure you had heard him at all. His eyebrows were knitted and a frown overtook his once peaceful demeanour. His eyes darted over your features, probably just as confused, but for why you had no clue.

“What do you mean you ‘don’t care?’” You flinched as he mimiced the venom you unintentionally spit at him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” Peter looked genuinely hurt and you hated yourself for feeling so bad.

“Oh, so what did you mean? That you don’t care that I’m busy? Or that you don’t care about what’s going on in my life? Because if you don’t care you don’t have to ask.” You turned away from his piercing gaze, wiping at your face.

How dare he? How dare he accuse you of not caring? As if you didn’t constantly ask him for this information, as if you didn’t constantly pry for more. Was it not he who always cut you off, he who refused to share?

“Don’t- don’t say that. Of course, I care…I care so much. I just- how could you even say that?” Peter scoffed and you heard the familiar sound of him jumping in his jeans.

“Uh, I don’t know, maybe because you literally said you don’t care.” You felt your anger rise with his.

“You know what? Maybe I shouldn’t! I have been trying for so long to get you to care and you just…don’t! I don’t know why I keep expecting you to change!” He turned to face you, exasperation is the word you would use to describe his face now.

“Wha- change? What do I need to change? What is it that I don’t care about?”

You had never fought with Peter. You weren’t in a relationship so it was never warranted. You couldn’t see a way out of this without shattering every illusion you had built. Your castle was crumbling and you didn’t see any point in trying to save it. Hell, you were this far now.

“Me…You don’t care about me. I’m just some quick fuck to you, gone as fast as you come. Every time I want to hang out, be anything more than this, you make an excuse- push me away. The only texts you respond to are about when you can come over. The only time you wanna know how I’m doing is when I’m under you. You don’t care and you know what? I’m done. I’m done. I’m done caring about where you’re off to. I’m done caring about who or what gives you all those scars and bruises. I’m done pining after someone who obviously only wants me for my body. You. Don’t. Care. and I’m done. I don’t fucking care.”

You wiped angrily at the tears that had fallen. All your cards were on the table and if you knew anything about Peter, you knew he would leave them there. He would walk out the door and text you in a few days asking to drop by and you would say yes, and then you would be right back here. Or maybe he could change. Maybe he wouldn’t text you at all. Maybe he would decide this wasn’t worth it and leave.

You felt a hand on your shoulder, his gentle hand shocking you from your spiralling thoughts.

“(Y/N)...that’s not- that’s not true. I do care. You’re not just some ‘quick fuck’, okay? I just…don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be more than this. I’m sorry.”

You wanted to believe him so badly, but a small part of your brain was screaming at you that this was a cop-out. Because if he tells you that he cares but he can’t, then he gets to keep coming back- to keep stringing you along.

“Peter, I can’t do this anymore.” You wish you hadn’t said that. You wish you had said anything else because this felt final. You weren’t ready to say goodbye.

You felt his hand retract and could sense him stiffen. You expected him to leave, to say something along the lines of “fuck this, I’m out”, but instead he sat down on the edge of your bed with his head in his hands. You stood silently, unsure if there was anything else you should say- anything you could. After a moment he raised his head, a look of pure determination on his face.

“Okay…so we don’t do this anymore. We can do something else instead.” You looked at him confused.

“Peter, what are you saying?” He grabbed your shoulders, leaning down to meet you at your level.

“I’m saying we stop doing this whole…situationship…friends with benefits…thing. Yeah- we drop the benefits and just become friends. Actual friends.” You considered his proposition for a moment but you knew in your heart it was too late for that.

“I can’t be just friends with you, Peter. It’s too much. It would hurt too much.” Peter took his hands off you again and threw them behind his head.

“Fuck!” He cursed loudly, you had never known Peter to raise his voice.

“I can’t date you (Y/N). I can’t.” There was a fire in his eyes that almost frightened you.

“Why not?” You had hoped that your voice wouldn’t come out so shaky. You didn’t want to seem any more pathetic in front of him. You almost regret asking, not knowing how devastating his answer will be, but you coax yourself into thinking this will give you the closure you need to move on and forget him.

“I- you…look, I just…I’m not…safe. If I date you, if I care for you, If I love you…that could be really bad. I can’t lose you, I can’t, okay? I refuse to go through that again. You are a light to this world and I will not be the reason it goes out. Absolutely not.” You couldn’t help but feel like you were being scolded.

“I don’t understand. How is loving me a bad thing? Are you going to hurt me?-”

“No, I would never!”

“Then who? Who is going to hurt me, Peter? And why do they get to rule so much of your life? How is it fair that they make you fear a chance at happiness? My chance at happiness? Why do they get a say?” Peter looked frenzied, his eyes wild and full of unfallen tears, while his hair was mused and sticking up in all directions from pulling at it.

“You’re not listening to me-”

“I am Peter, but all I’m hearing is more excuses. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep pretending that I’m fine with this. I want more, I need more, and if you can’t give me that then…I think you should leave.”

Your heart broke as he did just that. You were convinced he took it with him, bloodying his back pocket. Or maybe he crushed it into the carpet with his heel on his way out. Either way, he left and you didn’t hear from him again.

Classes had started back up, and you were so close to graduation that you could almost taste it. Your degree only a few more credits away. You were on your way to class but due to your early start, you had half an hour to kill. You decided that was as good as any reason to stop into your favourite coffee place before Ancient Grecian Philosophy.

You ordered your favourite pick-me-up and a pain au chocolat to go. The weather wasn’t too bad so you chose to sit outside, enjoying your breakfast and your book. Your headphones drowned out the hustle and bustle of New York, and, evidently, its favourite spandex-clad crime fighter.

You only noticed him when you saw his glove wave in front of the pages before you. You looked up only to meet the eyes of Spider-Man. You were amazed, to say the least. You hastily pulled out your headphones and set down your book.

“Oh my god, Spider-Man. You’re- you’re Spider-Man.” He chuckled at your response.

“Yes, I am. What gave it away?” Your shock was lessening, probably due to the comfort he seemed to radiate.

“The spider on your chest is kinda obvious.” He made a show of looking down and acting almost surprised to see it there.

“Yeah, I guess you’re kinda right. Without it though, I could be any old schmuck.” You chuckled again as he rested his hands on his hips.

“Even with it, there’s no telling which old schmuck you are.” He brought a hand to his chest, a gasp ripping from there.

“I am not old! I’ll have you know I’m only a few months older than you!” You brought a hand up to cover your laugh. He was funny, you’ll give him that. But then you felt a twist in your gut, apprehension nestling in your sternum.

“How would you know that?” Spider-Man tilted his head at you.

“How would I know what?” You started to rise from the table, looking at him more head on.

“How would you know if I’m younger than you?” He remained silent and you cursed his mask for hiding his facial expressions.

“Why are you here? Do I know you?” His gaze fell to the floor and you felt your fight or flight start to kick in. Your eyes darted around for the best escape route.

“Look, I just wanted to talk to you. I can explain everything just-” He paused to look around, you noticed then all the people crowing the window of the coffee shop. “Just not here.”

He extended his hand to you, “I know it’s crazy but I’m asking you to trust me.”

Despite your better judgement, you took his hand. I mean if your going to die, being murdered by spider-man isn’t the worst way to go. He swung you to an alley nearby before throwing you on his back and scaling up the side of a tall building.

Once you reached the top he let you down and began to pace. You could hear him muttering to himself, but you couldn’t pick up on what he was saying. The entire situation was making you increasingly nervous.

“I don’t know when you plan on explaining but I have to get to class soon, so the quicker the better.” You watched as he scratched at the back of his neck before turning to you.

“Okay, so, you do know me, but you don’t like me much, and for good reason. But I miss you and I think I’m ready now, like, I think I can be what you need me to be and I want- I want to try.” You always thought the expression “Staring at someone like they had three heads” was a bit dramatic, but in this moment you were sure you were doing just that.

Before you could question the man he ripped off his mask revealing a face you had tried to forget. His smile seemed nervous and you felt like you might pass out.

“Peter? Wha- How? What is happening?” You took a step back and Peter dropped down almost comically. His hands were spread out in front of him to show he was no threat, but your heart thought otherwise.

“I needed to talk to you but I knew you wouldn’t want to talk to me so I sent in the uh- the other guy.” You scoffed.

“I can’t help but feel a little manipulated here,” You laughed coldly. Peter’s eyes widened at your words, panic seeping through him.

“I- well, I-uh…I’m not trying to manipulate you. If you wanna leave I’ll drop you off right where I found you and can go back to pretending I don’t exist, but I meant what I said before. I do miss you, I do think I’m ready. I’m ready to show you I care.”

Peter watched as you sat on the concrete below you in wonder. You tilted your head up to the sky, saying nothing in response. He worried for a moment that he may have sent you into shock, definitely damaging his chances at getting you back. You sighed and patted the ground next to you and Peter took a seat.

“I cannot believe you thought this was a good idea. Was your best plan really ‘grab her off the street and info dump until her brain breaks?’” Peter felt his cheeks start to burn with embarrassment but then you nudged him with your shoulder, “And here I was thinking you were smart.”

You were teasing him, that’s good. That’s a start.

“I don’t know what gave you that impression. I was pretty stupid last time you saw me.” You gave a soft hum in agreement but offered no other reply.

“Speaking of…I’ve spent the last few months thinking about you, about what you said. I wanted to be with you but Spider-Man is kinda a package deal. And it’s not a good deal, it’s kinda a rip-off. I couldn’t be with you and not tell you about him. It wouldn’t be fair. But telling about him puts you in danger. There are a lot of people who want Spider-Man dead, a lot of people who want to hurt me, and that means people who would hurt you to get to me.” He paused as if having to convince himself to keep going, to not back out again.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t be cutting off any chance of happiness just because someone might not want me to have that. I do so much for everyone in this city and May says I get to be a little selfish. I think she’s right too. (Y/N)...I care about you a lot, and if you’re willing to give me the chance, I wanna make you happy. Like really happy. Like the kind of happy that makes everyone so annoyed but really they’re just jealous. And I think, I could let myself be happy too.”

You let his words wash over you. If he did walk away with your heart that night it seems now he was trying to give it back, and he offered his too. It was vandalised and tender, but you didn’t mind the mess. You reached between you and took his hand in yours, a ghost of a smile dancing across your lips.

“I think I would be willing to let you do that.” Your soul felt brighter when Peter smiled at you.

“Really?” You nodded your head and Peter placed his hand on the back of your neck. For a moment you thought he might kiss you, but instead, he rested his forehead against yours.

“Thank you.” You weren’t sure what he was thanking you for exactly, but his words felt rich with significance.

You stayed there for a while, neither of you moving before Peter spoke up again.

“You mentioned something about class earlier, I could drop you off?” You agreed as he pulled away and helped you stand. “And then maybe after I could take you out for brunch, I feel bad for interrupting your breakfast.”

You chuckled, “That would make me very happy.”

Tag List: @heejinw0rld, @jedisstark, @Possiblydeads-blog, @rudy-the-winged-wolf, @scorpiolystoned, @wannapizzamymindposts, @whoreforklitz, @greek-mythsnthings,

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lcnelyghost · 2 years ago

Note

Hey if u don't mind, can u pls do an imagine with jpm where the reader is gen z and sometimes James has trouble relating to her/ him/them but he still tries? And also pls pls pls a part two of introducing James to modern music

Ps, ur writing is fucking incredible, and ur one of my fav tumblr blogs, take care sweets :) <3

yk, that last little comment really made me smile. i’m glad to know my writing actually interests people! thank you sm lovely <3

the fascination of our modern world//jpm

pairings; james patrick march, female reader

rating; pg!

warnings; none <3

Oh, where could you even begin here. Let’s just say, having a boyfriend from the 1920’s was occasionally difficult at times. Even though he had a thirst for taking the lives of the innocent, James was a total gem. A gentleman who would spoil you and give you everything he had. Everything you wanted!

But.. the poor dear had a hard time understanding how the modern world worked. He found it incredibly uncomfortable. Certainly quite confusing in many ways, though Mr March found a way to avoid being included in anything that involved this generation. That was until he met you.

Now, James was left to face the supposed joys of finding out about even more sources and objects that now existed in this world. If it meant trying to understand more about you, he’d clearly have to go right in and start learning.

***

“Darling?” James called. He could faintly hear someone singing softly in the sitting room of his suite.

Inspecting this odd noise, James proceeded to enter the sitting room, just in time to see you with you’re back turned whilst singing within the dead silence.

Mr March was quite confused that you were just randomly singing to no tune in particular. No music was playing, so he chuckled quite a bit at this current sight.

“Last Christmas, I gave you my heart. But the very next day.. you gave it away. This year, to save me from tears! I’ll give it to someone special!” You sang with glee, you’re back still turned to you’re ghostly lover.

James smiled in awe but slowly made his way over to you and tapped you’re shoulder. He immediately flew back when you jumped in surprised, going on to giggle at his reaction.

“James! You gave me quite the fright. Is something wrong?” You asked.

James slowly shook his head. “No, no. Not at all my love. Just.. erm.. remember the record player I own?”

You furrowed you’re brows and looked at him funny, pausing the song on you’re phone as it was still blaring through the AirPods a tad bit too loud in you’re ears.

“Yes?”

“Well, i’m sure you are quite aware that you’re more than welcome to use it for some of the albums that belong to you. Don’t feel that you have to sing to yourself rather than the actual piece of music, dear. I know we all like a bit of singing to ourselves sometimes. But it’s better to join whoever may be singing in the song we like.”

You laughed at his slight confusion. “Oh James, you’re such a sweetheart. But I wasn’t singing to myself in pure silence..”

“You weren’t?”

“No. I was listening to my music through these,” You took the AirPods out of you’re ears and went on to present them to him.

He stared at them curiously, taking one of the small white speakers into his own hand. He inspected it before giving the AirPod back to you.

“Ah yes.. these are uh, something that connects to one of you’re electrical devices?”

You nodded and placed both of them in his ears, going back onto you’re phone and playing the song you were last listening to.

A grin began to spread across his face as he slowly tapped his right foot to the beat of the song.

“My my! This is quite the invention!” James beamed, his body now swaying slowly to the smooth sound of music.

You both laughed and you’re heart practically melted at his joy. Now usually, things like these utterly disgusted Mr March. He’d most likely say it was too loud for his ears or it hurt him. But perhaps now, you’re partner wouldn’t be so quick to judge.

***

“So, what do you fancy watching?” You asked James, searching on Netflix and Disney+ as you cuddled into you’re boyfriend further.

The two of you were comfortably sat in bed in you’re pyjamas. You’d taken James to bed a little earlier tonight, explaining to him that you wanted a ‘movie night’ or so you called it.

“Hmm, i’ll let you decide dear. Just maybe something that fits both of our tastes.” He said, twirling you’re hair around with his finger.

“Oo! How about Twilight?”

“Sorry?”

You giggled slightly. “Twilight. It’s a romantic movie. It’s about a vampire who falls in love with a human in high-school. And it becomes his job to protect her. He sort of stalks her a bit though. There’s also wolves in it! Maybe we could watch the full franchise!!”

James blinked at you, not knowing what to say. He eventually sighed and told you to put it on if that’s what you wanted.

Half way through you guys watching the full saga, James became bored and was just cringing at how there was too much going on. Far, far too much for his liking.

“Dearest, I think it’s time for me to settle down for the night.” He stated, faking a yawn and excusing himself.

“Aw, ok! We can finish it tomorrow.” You smiled sweetly, James only just smiled back before kissing you goodnight and rolling over. His smile fell shortly after he’d realised he actually had to finish these lot of movies tomorrow night.

***

“Mm, i’m feeling a bit peckish. Maybe we should have lunch now?” You said to you’re lover, rubbing you’re stomach as it growled loudly with hunger.

“Yes, I was getting ready to ask you that actually. Wait- where is Miss Evers?” James searched around the place but didn’t manage to find his loyal laundress, (and chef for that matter)

“I told her to go to the bar and enjoy herself for the afternoon. Don’t worry though. I’ll order us something in.” You pulled out you’re phone and went into Just Eat.

“Darling, I thought you said you gave her the afternoon off. How are we meant to request to her what we would like if she’s gone?” He frowned.

“I know, that’s why I said I would order it in.”

James frowned ever more. “I don’t understand.”

You sat down beside him, showing him what app you were currently in.

“Look, this app allows me to order food to the Cortez. I can text Liz to bring it up to us and that’ll be our lunch for the day.” You told him. He looked shocked and wildly fascinated at the same time.

“So.. you are able to get someone to professionally make us something to eat and they are willing to deliver it right here to the Cortez?”

“Yup.”

“Oh Darling.. when I said I had a huge dislike for the modern world.. I don’t think I meant it quite literally at all..”

***

hope y’all enjoyed this little imagine! it was quite fun to make actually :)

taglist: @v-love @cabin10hufflepuff

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yeowangies · 2 years ago

Text

Blood Stains

CHAPTER I: You swim in that?

❧

PAIRING: Raditz/Reader RATING: Mature CONTENTS: Attempt at Humor, Canon Divergence AU, POV Alternating, Slow Burn. WARNINGS: None. WORDCOUNT: 2689

Summary:

His line of thought gets interrupted when Raditz notices the human female walking out of the house. You’re just wearing a swimsuit after all, and he can’t help but stare for a solid minute, taking in your entire body wearing such flimsy clothes. You seem just as taken aback as he is, clearly more puzzled by his presence though.

He feels his face get hot, he knows he must be blushing.

Raditz understands now what Kakarot has been doing all this time on this goddamn planet.

Notes:

This fic started with the funny premise on the summary and it grew long arms and long legs and it's now an incredibly long fic, with more or less 10 chapters. I also wrote this to be a contrast to my other fic Close Encounter, hence the slow burn tag.

I already wrote this up to chapter 8 or so, so I still have some things left to write, but I'm gonna update this regularly.

The contents and warnings will change for each chapter so look out for those!

“Is Goku coming then?” You ask, stepping down from Bulma’s hover car as you walk over to Kame House.

“Master Roshi invited him so I’m guessing he is…” Bulma says, walking in front of you to get to the door.

“It’s been such a while since we last saw him…” You murmur to yourself.

Five years since the last Tournament and since Goku took off with his new bride. Sometimes it’s still hard to comprehend he got engaged so fast, you couldn’t wait to ask him about marriage life; he tied the knot so young, he was probably surprised by the experience.

You greet Krillin and Master Roshi after not seeing either one of them for years (and Roshi gets bonked in the head, courtesy of Bulma, because of an inappropriate joke). It’s easy to fall into the dynamic you always had; Bulma keeps complaining about Yamcha, like she always does, making you roll your eyes (the poor guy doesn’t deserve it), and Krillin silently judges her for being so dramatic, which makes you laugh.

A sunny day is expected, and so far it has been like that, so you quickly excuse yourself to get changed into your pink swimsuit, wanting to take advantage of the weather and sunbathe a little.

Goku arrives immediately afterwards, and your mouth drops open when he brings his four year old son along with him.

Raditz could not believe the state of this planet. Kakarot was supposed to eliminate its population, wasn’t he?

If it wasn’t for his scouter signaling some high power levels around, he would have thought his brother was annihilated by these weaklings. But that couldn’t be it. He’s a Saiyan, even as a child, it should have been enough power for him to get rid of this plague in a month or so. He has already encountered that green man earlier, he doesn’t want to assume that such a weak bug would have eliminated him.

What happened then?!

“Fuck you, Kakarot, you had one simple mission…” He grumbles, flying at high speed towards the location his scouter is pointing him to.

The high power is moving rapidly, and Raditz smirks when it suddenly stops. Kakarot is going to get an earful and a beating too, for good measure, and he speeds up to get to his destination so he can finally know what’s happening.

He lands roughly on a beach of a small island with a pink house. And there he is, his own brother, easy to recognize because he looks so much like their father, surrounded by three humans. Kakarot looks bewildered, staring at him with his mouth hanging open. Raditz frowns, extremely annoyed. He is willingly hanging out with this species?

“Kakarot! What’s with the condition of this planet?!” He practically yells, exasperated when Kakarot looks even more confused by his every word. “Your mission was to exterminate this species! What game have you been-”

He feels his face get hot, he knows he must be blushing.

Raditz understands now what Kakarot has been doing all this time on this goddamn planet.

“What’s going on?” You ask, looking at Kakarot and the other humans. They seem just as intrigued by your presence and his reaction at your appearance, with the way they keep glancing back and forth. “Who’s that?”

“I would like to know that too!” Kakarot spits, still in a defensive stance.

But Raditz isn’t paying him any mind. He keeps staring at you, perplexed and stunned. Do all human females wear those clothes?! He hasn’t noticed it on his way here, and even the other woman on the island isn’t wearing anything that revealing.

It isn’t just the attire, however. The clothes are distracting enough, but you are attractive. Enough to make him forget about why he’s there in the first place.

You blink a couple of times, clueless, before turning your eyes towards the other humans beside you.

“Can someone tell me what on Earth is happening?”

Raditz snaps out of his own head at your question, shaking his head slightly, just in time when the little bald Earthling approaches him. He has to focus, he’s there for a reason; to get Kakarot back so he joins their group. Distractions are not allowed; he can’t fail a mission this simple, it’s literally a piece of cake, and no female will distract him from it, no matter how alluring they are.

It has been a shock to find out that Goku has a brother, but it’s even more startling that he’s an alien. It makes sense in retrospect, but it’s not like a lot of people would have gotten to that conclusion with certainty.

Raditz stared at you the moment he saw you, and you figured it had a lot to do with the swimsuit you were wearing. Which was hilarious, but you were too concerned about Gohan being kidnapped and Goku going after him to laugh about it at that time. Only Bulma cracked a joke, and you rolled your eyes, blushing a bit but brushing off her comment. You did notice he’s attractive, but the fact that he was violent and threatening Goku and this planet preoccupied your mind.

Now, however, you’re looking at his face as he lays unconscious on a very high-tech hospital bed at Bulma’s house, in one of its many rooms, connected by cables to computers and monitors. Goku insisted before dying that his brother stays alive, and no one refused him (Piccolo did try to talk him out of it, but it was futile). And if you were honest, you didn’t want him to die either, for reasons probably just as selfish as Goku’s. You’re glad everyone complied; Bulma knew you well enough to let you monitor him on your own without questions, so you got to see him everyday. Unconscious, but you count your blessings. You got to stare at his handsome face and even his toned chest too, even though most of his torso was covered in bandages; but now you want to hear him talk, even if he goes back to threatening the Earth or something.

It has been a week since Raditz has been like that, he did lost a lot of blood after all. But even you know he’s healing abnormally fast. Any human could have died from that injury, but he hadn’t. And his superficial wounds are long gone. A Saiyan, that’s what Goku and Raditz were. You still can’t wrap your head around it.

You’re on the verge of dozing off one day when you hear the sheets shuffle slightly. You practically jump from your seat to approach his bed, staring at him to see if he wakes up. Raditz does wake up, sitting up abruptly as soon as he opens his eyes, making you yelp loudly.

“You scared me!” You practically yell at him, clutching your chest.

He stares at you with wide eyes, panting, as he calms himself down slowly. You hope he remembers meeting you before, because he certainly seemed intrigued back then, and you hope that’s enough reason for him not to attack you. You’re just a human after all, even in his state, he could harm you if he wanted to.

“You’re that girl with the skimpy clothes…” He finally says, eyeing you up and down slowly.

“Huh?” You gape at him momentarily before you understand what he means. “Oh, my swimsuit you mean?”

“Your swimsuit? You swim in that?”

“Yes, that’s what it’s made-”

“Is all your species this indecent?”

“Woah, hey! You’re alive because of us, you know?”

Raditz groans, obviously in pain, and you immediately shut your mouth.

“Are you in pain? You should lay back down.”

“Where am I?” He asks, ignoring your words.

“This is my friend’s house. We-”

“Why am I here?”

“I-”

“And what are you doing here?”

“Maybe you should let me speak?” You ask, a little annoyed at this point. He stares at you, and you take his silence as a signal to go on. “You were bleeding pretty badly after your fight with Goku and Piccolo, so we brought you here. We did our best to help you heal, but it’s going to take a while until you’re better. I’ve been checking in on you every day, you’ve been passed out for a week.”

He doesn’t look pleased at all, but he doesn’t look like he’s going to strangle you either, so you take it as a win. He frowns deeply, inspecting all the bandages in his body, wincing when he twists his body in certain ways.

“Raditz, that’s your name, right?”

You remember it perfectly, but maybe asking him about it would mellow him out a bit. He doesn’t reply, so you take the opportunity to introduce yourself. He only looks at you curiously, clearly in a defensive stance (or as defensive as he can be in his state).

“You should rest. Are you hungry? I can have food brought in.”

“Aren’t you my brother’s ally?”

“Yeah, I am, why?”

“I could kill you right now.”

“Ok? Why are you telling me that?” You frown.

“Why are you helping me?” He practically growls. He does look menacing due to how big he is, but he also looks in pain.

“Why not?” You shrug. “You don’t remember what happened before you passed out?”

Raditz doesn’t reply, but he continues to glare at you. He must not remember; it would make sense since he was bleeding a lot before he fainted. He wouldn’t remember that Goku asked you to keep him alive because he didn’t want to kill him.

When Raditz woke up in that bed in what looked like some kind of hospital room and you were right in front of him, he didn’t know if it was a blessing or a curse. You were distracting enough, he didn’t have time to entertain himself with an earthling.

The second thing he felt once awake was pain. His entire torso ached, and that’s when he noticed the bandages. You told him that he was bleeding profoundly, but he barely remembers that.

Why are you even helping him? He’s your enemy after all. He knows he’s weak in his current state, and without the healing tanks, he’s going to take a little longer to heal, but Saiyans still recover pretty fast compared to other species. He could wait a week, or even a month, and kill you then. Why are you taking the risk?

Raditz doesn’t remember what happened with that green guy and his brother. Is Kakarot dead? It would be safe to assume that he is, he does remember almost being hit directly by that powerful beam, but his brother did get hit. But even if he’s dead, he can’t deal with his companion in his current state.

Which leads him again to the question of why he’s even alive. The memories of the last couple of minutes in that last fight are fuzzy. Surely that guy wouldn’t have let him go that easily, he is a threat to this planet after all.

Raditz groans loudly, rubbing his temples. He might have to ask you about it, but he’s not sure he can trust you yet. As captivating as you are.

“Are you in pain?” You ask him when you enter the room the next morning after he wakes up. “Since you’re not human, I’m not sure how many painkillers we can give you.”

“Tell me what happened before I passed out.”

He ignores every word you said, and that seems to bother you by the twitch in your eyebrow and the slight pout on your lips. Which is rather cute, he has to admit.

“Ask nicely and maybe I’ll tell you.”

“Do I have to remind you again that I can kill you?”

“Yeah well, do it then.”

Arching an eyebrow, Raditz scoffs.

Threatening to kill you is a bad idea, simply because he knows he doesn’t want to. But since you’re daring him to do so… he should do it, right? Why would he care if you live or die, this planet is doomed anyway.

You smile at him, like you know he won’t lift a finger to touch you, and it pisses him off a little. A part of him, however, likes your attitude. He won’t ever say it out loud, though.

“Don’t worry, I’m not withholding information from you on purpose. I just want you to be nice to me, that’s all.”

“I’m not nice.”

“I can tell.” You roll your eyes playfully. “But you can try. After all, I've been taking care of you from the beginning.”

“God knows why you’re stupid enough to do that.”

His words do make you angry this time, your face twisting in a way he hasn’t seen yet, and he smirks proudly. His provocation worked this time.

“We’re not all homicidal maniac aliens, okay?! I was hoping you’d wake up from your coma soon, but I didn’t think you’d be this rude!”

“You were hoping I’d wake up?” Raditz snorts loudly, not even containing his laughter. “Are you insane, girl?”

“Yes, I’m crazy enough to want to talk to you!”

“Why?”

“Because I think you’re handsome, dumbass!”

Raditz balks, taken aback by your words, and he soon feels his face heat up. Just like that first time he saw you. You still stare at him with ire in your eyes, your first turned into balls by your sides. He’s not even sure what to say, but making you angry had been a terrible idea; not only did you confess to finding him attractive, but you also look incredibly more appealing than usual now that anger is adorning your features. And he doesn’t know what to do in this situation.

“So I think the best thing you can do is be nice to me.” Luckily for him, you go on speaking after a beat, still clearly annoyed, but a little calmer.

At a loss for words, Raditz looks elsewhere so you won’t notice the blush on his cheeks. When you turn to ask for breakfast through the phone, he briefly looks your way, and notices how red the tip of your ears are. At least he’s not the only one who's embarrassed. You usually hang around the room with him, even if he’s not necessarily a conversational wonder, but this situation must have made you feel embarrassed because you leave the room shortly after requesting for food.

He dwells on your words now that he’s alone. You thought he was handsome, now what? He does find you attractive, it must have been obvious by the way he stared at you the moment you met, as embarrassing as it was. He never had to chase after a woman before, so he’s not sure what to do. What are Earth courting customs anyway? For what he vaguely remembers about his own people, courtship usually involved offering a trophy, like an animal hunted for solely that purpose. But that was a mating proposal. This isn’t mating. He just wants to fuck you.

The first thing he should do is get used to standing on his feet without twisting in pain before considering doing any other kind of straining activity. Saiyans heal fast, but getting to that point is going to take a while.

Raditz grunts, sinking into the bed. How stupid is he? He shouldn’t even consider any of this. Nappa and Vegeta are coming to Earth. He remembers them sharing that information with him through his scouter…

Fuck, what even happened to his scouter? He’s going to have to ask you about it.

For some reason, he remembers feeling intense fury before passing out, when Nappa and Vegeta were talking to him. But he doesn’t exactly remember the reason.

#dbz fics #dbz fanfiction #dbz imagine #raditz x reader #raditz x you #dragon ball z #dbz #raditz #my writing #*bs

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spacefinch · 2 years ago

Note

Do you know much about sharks? They're my personal favourite underwater species. Feel free to use this as a shark info dump if you want btw :-)

I also love sharks! Here's some fun facts!

The largest species of shark is the whale shark. They're known for being "gentle giants" so to speak.

They don't bite! Instead, they swallow seawater and filter plankton through their gills.

The smallest species of shark is the dwarf lanternshark, named for its bioluminescence, or ability to produce its own light.

Sharks have incredibly keen eyesight. Not only can they see well in the dark, they can also see colors!

They also have an excellent sense of smell, which helps them find prey.

Sharks also have a "sixth sense:" electroreception! Using tiny sensory organs on their nose (called the ampullae of Lorenzini), they can sense electromagnetic fields emitted by other animals.

Some sharks lay eggs, while others give birth to live young.

They've been around longer than the dinosaurs! The oldest known shark fossils are from over 400 million years ago, during the Devonian Period, also known as "the Age of Fishes."

The now-extinct megalodon was the largest species of shark ever! They were even bigger than whale sharks!

Look how huge it is! It makes the great white shark look tiny!

Shark skin is made of rough scales called denticles, and it kind of feels like sandpaper when touched. (I've never touched a shark, so I'm just taking the marine biologists' word for it.)

It's very rare, but a female shark can reproduce without having mated with a male shark.

Some species of sharks, like nurse sharks, rest in dogpiles-- or should I say "shark piles." It's thought that they do this for protection from predators.

Here's a pile of nurse sharks! It's a bit cramped, but they don't seem to mind!

Thresher sharks have very long tail fins! Sometimes as long as the shark's body!

They use their long tails to slap their prey before eating it.

Thresher sharks are one of the few endothermic sharks, meaning they can produce their own body heat!

There are 12 species of wobbegong sharks. The name "wobbegong" means "shaggy beard" in the Australian Aboriginal language.

The wobbegong's "beard" is actually made of barbels, or special organs that help it feel its way around. (Catfish also have barbels!)

In English, they're also known as carpet sharks.

Unlike "normal" sharks, they spend their days camouflaged on the seabed. They also have poor eyesight compared to open-sea sharks.

This here shark is a Spotted Wobbegong! Funny looking dude, I love him.

Hope this satisfies your desire for shark facts!

Best fishes,

Finch

#sharks #marine biology #infodumping #asked and answered #there are many benefits to being a marine biologist

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angellayercake · 1 year ago

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The Diary of Cardinal Terzo Five

Based on this funny little article we start to read about some of Terzo’s creampie adventures in his diary.

disclaimer I know this is the farthest thing from safe sex but let’s pretend in this universe there is a special secret satanic sti and pregnancy protection just for fun

04/06 I do not say lightly that I am an expert in female pleasure. All pleasure really but male pleasure came a bit more instinctively. I have studied hard and worked diligently until I excelled in every area. But sometimes even an expert needs to outsource, especially on special occasions. It was her birthday, the Sister I had strapped to my bed earlier this evening. The sounds she had been making were exquisite and almost entirely drowned out the continuous buzzing of the toy between her legs.It had been a present from her friends, one she had not been particularly excited about. So being the expert I am I offered to show her exactly how to make the most of such a device. Admittedly I usually prefer a more hands on approach to pleasure but there were times when watching and waiting holds as much appeal. Part of the toy was vibrating inside her pressing into her sweet spot so perfectly every time the overwhelming pleasure made her writhe. The other part of the toy was against her clit, the rhythmic pulses pushing her closer and closer to her orgasm. She was leaking down her thighs, so wet I couldn't wait to have my turn inside her but I just had to wait a little bit longer, wait for the little toy to do its job and tip her over into oblivion. She hit her peak, her moans reaching a crescendo as her body arched off the bed. I switched it off, giving her a rest before I reminded her what I could do. Creampie count: 292

11/06 Wine and cheese picnics are a favourite pastime of mine but especially with the company of Jill while watching the sunset. To the north of the Abbey there is a hill with a view across the whole town. A small copse of trees shelters you from the worst of the wind so here I like to come. We had sampled all the wine and eaten our fill of cheese but we were not ready for our evening to end. The dusk light and maybe slightly too much wine gave her skin a rosy glow and I found myself hungry for only what she could give me. I pulled her into my lap as I reclined back on the blanket. Tasting her wine sweetened lips was lovely but still not enough. Reaching under her habit I discovered she had left her underwear back at the Abbey so it was little effort to move myself beneath her so I could sample the meal I was craving. Oh how I adore the taste of an aroused woman! There is truly nothing like it and her tangy sweetness paired so well with the wine I had just finished. Her soft sighs and quiet moans harmonised with the evening birdsong until she was grinding and cumming on my face. I had thought that perhaps our evening would come to an end there but she was not yet satisfied, freeing and then impaling herself on my hard cock, her slow grinding hips bringing us to completion together as she tasted herself on my lips. Creampie count: 309

01/12 While we don't strictly celebrate Christmas within the Ministry, festivities and celebrations are not unheard of at this time of year. Which of course meant parties, and parties meant new outfits. Being at the Abbey meant a trip to my usual tailor was not possible, but after a little digging I discovered there was a Sister under my nose who was very very good with her hands,and she could sew as well. Joking aside, she was an incredible talent and although I always believe I cut a dashing figure in her creations I was often left speechless. The extravagant fabrics clinging in all the best places, deliberate stitching barely visible but transforming and accentuating the shape of me. It was magic and I never tire of watching it come together. It would be easy to assume then that the final fitting was my favourite interaction with this dear Sister, but no. My favourite was always the measuring. Was it necessary at the beginning of every creation? Probably not, but neither of us ever said so. There is something so sensual about her drawing her measuring tape across my bare skin, always bare (and I mean no underwear too, it would be a crime for any layers to distort the cut of the garments of course.) She gets so lost in her work, in the accuracy and detail needed but when she is finished? Well then I demonstrated to her my deep appreciation for her talents. Creampie count: 612

#the band ghost fic #the band ghost fanfiction #cardinal terzo #terzo #papa emeritus iii #the diary of cardinal terzo #my writing

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laikawho · 3 days ago

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i wanna ruin our friendship

one-shot, f!reader x iwaizumi

smut, friends to lovers, pining, unresolved sexual tension, everyone involved is a bit of a pervert (including the rest of seijoh4)

There’s something a bit funny about having childhood friends.

You wouldn’t notice it at first, but little by little, they change over time. You’ll miss it entirely if you’re not looking for it, pondering the differences between then and now. When someone is always around, you don’t really notice the small, incremental changes that happen.

But people do change. Their hobbies, personalities, likes and dislikes, aspirations. And uh, well, they physically change too. This was something you were noticing as you sat on the couch, trying to keep focused on the movie on the screen as you were squished between two of your lifelong best friends.

One example of things that hadn’t changed. Movie nights with you, Iwaizumi, and Oikawa. Well, that’s not entirely true. Once you’d entered highschool, it had changed just a little, adding their new teammates Hanamaki and Matsukawa into the mix. Soon, your little trio had become a quintet, and, to be honest, you were all the happier for it.

So it wasn’t that change was inherently negative. No, it was necessary. It was a catalyst for good just as often as it was for bad, and sometimes, well, it was just plain neutral.

But, you felt like there was something distinctly not good about the change you were noticing right now, for the first time. You must really be lacking observational skills.

Iwaizumi was fucking ripped.

You were pressed up against his side, sandwiched between him and Oikawa on the couch. Iwaizumi’s arm was resting across the back of the sofa, right above you, and you had to force yourself not to flinch every time you felt his bicep brush the top of your head. To make matters worse, he was wearing some kind of compression shirt, making the way his muscles strained against the shirt infinitely more apparent to you than ever before.

Internally, you were cursing Matsukawa and Hanamaki for claiming the two armchairs in the room and leaving you to your tragic fate of recognizing your childhood friend had gotten really goddamn buff as you were pressed up against his firm body.

And what the hell were you supposed to do with this information? You’d known him since you were both in preschool, back when he would catch bugs with his bare hands in the park, and blow his nose on his shirt sleeves when he was sick. You’d seen him and Oikawa through the most awkward stages of development, and they had seen you through it as well. Your relationship was wholly platonic, and how could it be anything else when you had been friends since before you even knew what attraction or lust was?

It wasn’t as if you were blind when it came to your friends. You had been forced to reckon with Oikawa’s blatant attractiveness long ago, when he’d started accumulating a fanclub of girls who would squeal and coo at everything he did.

Hell, you became their manager in part to help deal with the goddamn fanclub, who backed off ever so slightly once the manager position was filled. So you were very aware that most of the female students at Seijoh found Oikawa incredibly handsome and dreamy.

And, well, objectively yes, he was attractive. You just couldn’t really see him in that light, not since you had known him for nearly his entire life, and therefore saw past his facade of bravado and charm.

On the other hand, it wasn’t that you had thought Iwaizumi was unattractive. It was just, for whatever reason, something that had slipped your mind. It was easier to forget or overlook the handful of times that girls had confessed to him when you were constantly seeing the fallout of Oikawa the heartbreaker.

Iwaizumi had never dated anyone, never broken any hearts, and compared to Oikawa, had gotten significantly less attention. All of which led to you very rarely, if ever, pondering him in that light.

Now here you are, sitting on the sofa, doing the same thing you do every single week, and yet, it’s different. You blame the stupid compression shirt Iwaizumi is wearing for causing this extremely unwelcome realization.

The movie on the screen is droning on - you don’t even know what movie you all had picked, honestly. As soon as you walked in the door and saw Iwaizumi on the couch, hands crossed behind his head, corded muscles shifting with every move, you felt your brain short circuit, and just agreed to whatever movie everyone else wanted. It was all you could do to keep yourself from openly gawking.

What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck!!!!

You did not want to grapple with this right now. You wanted to just sit on the couch and enjoy movie night with your friends like you always did, you didn’t want to have to come to terms with the fact that you suddenly were thinking of your best friend’s washboard abs, wondering what it would feel like if he picked you up with those strong arms of his and pushed you against-. No. You screwed your eyes shut, willing your mind to go to less dangerous places.

“Popcorn?”

A whisper interrupts your internal crisis, and you see a bowl being handed to you.

Iwaizumi is so close you can feel his breath on the shell of your ear as he whispers to you. When did he get this fucking close? You feel yourself tense further as he prods you in the side when you don’t respond.

Right. You can’t just zone out. You force an awkward smile and accept it. As you do, the tips of your fingers brush his, and you can’t help but jolt a bit at the contact. Iwaizumi’s eyebrows furrow, clearly confused as to why you’re acting so odd. Even Oikawa is peering over at the two of you curiously now, which is not good.

You set the popcorn down on the table with a thud, and stand up quickly.

“I’m going to the bathroom!” You announce, voice slightly squeakier than you had hoped it would be.

With that, you rush off, not even waiting for them to pause the movie.

There are many types of love. It’s a complex emotion, love can be soft and comfortable, like being bundled up in a pile of blankets on a winter day. It can be passionate and heated, like a permanent sunburn searing across your skin. It also can be overwhelmingly terrifying, like you’re standing at the edge of a cliff without any guard rails to keep you safe.

If you asked Iwaizumi if he had been in love, he would tell you no. But if you asked him if he had ever loved someone, well, that’s different. If the question was phrased like that, then the answer is yes. He loves his family and friends, and would do anything for them.

There are many types of love, and to love someone isn’t to be in love. So yes, Iwaizumi loved you, and it wasn’t anything that scandalous or dramatic, despite Hanamaki and Matsukawa’s teasing. You know someone for the better part of two decades, and yeah, they start to hold a place in your heart. It was strictly platonic, and that was all there was to it.

Or, that was what Iwaizumi would have said, up until now.

At Oikawa’s insistence, you had all taken a trip to the beach, trying to beat the summer heat for a bit. It had been several years since any of you had actually made the trip, given that it was a few hours’ drive. When he was a kid, he remembered taking summer trips to the beach every year with you and Oikawa. That ended in middle school, when volleyball practices began to extend into the break.

But that was when you were kids. You were, uh, not a kid anymore.

That was for certain.

It was a jarring realization as you took off your shirt, and wiggled your shorts down your hips, that you looked a whole lot different than the last time he’d seen you in a swimsuit.

He heard Hanamaki let out a wolf-whistle as you tied your hair up, and immediately bristled. Iwaizumi was about to deck the idiot himself when you beat him to it, giving the boy a firm smack to the back of his head, rolling your eyes.

Hanamaki whined as he rubbed the back of his head, complaining about your tendency to resort to violence so quickly. Out of the corner of Iwaizumi’s eye, he caught Matsukawa giving him the most shit-eating grin that he’d ever seen.

He really should have taken that as a sign for what was to come.

“Can one of you help me put sunscreen on my back?” You said as you shuffled your sandals off.

“We’re getting more stuff from the car, but I bet Iwaizumi would love to help.” Matsukawa drawls as he drags Hanamaki by the arm, who looks less than pleased by this turn of events, muttering under his breath as he follows the taller boy.

Iwaizumi stiffens. You’re staring at him, sunscreen in your outstretched hand. He quickly glances around, realizing Oikawa is still putting up the sand volleyball net, and Matsukawa and Hanamaki had, well, done that.

“Yeah, I can.” His mouth feels dry as he manages to choke out the words.

You turn around, shooting him a smile. “Thanks, Hajime.”

He squeezes sunscreen onto his palms as you move your ponytail out of the way. He feels like his face is hot, and he knows it’s not the sun. Why is he so in his own head about this? He’s touched you plenty, hell, he’s put sunscreen on you before. You’re his best friend, there’s nothing weird about any of this, you just wanted to avoid a sunburn.

He shakes his head, trying to stop overthinking. It’s not his fault you look hot in-. He blinks. Not hot. Not hot. You look fine. Normal. Nice.

Fucking Hanamaki and Matsukawa were perverts putting thoughts in his head with their sly glances and ogling. He was going to murder them for this.

With a sharp exhale, he starts to apply the sunscreen to your skin. He’s trying to not think about how soft your skin is under his calloused fingertips, how the curve of your waist feels as he runs his hands along your sides, rubbing the sunscreen in as he goes, god fucking damn it he’s thinking about it.

Your voice cuts into his not so pure thoughts, and he’s almost relieved for a distraction. “Can you make sure you get under the tie in the back too?”

“Yeah.” He manages to reply, hoping you didn’t notice the slight crack in his voice.

Iwaizumi shifts the scrap of fabric holding your bikini together slightly up, squeezing more sunscreen out onto his hands to oblige your request. Thankfully, after that, he’s pretty sure he’s done, because he’s not sure if he could handle any more of that.

He kind of feels like his head is about to explode. How had he missed that big of a change? Sure, he knew you weren’t a child anymore, but seeing you like this made it almost uncomfortably real. You had filled out, and filled out well. The skimpy swimsuit you were wearing made it even more obvious, and every time he tried to look at your face, he felt his gaze drop slightly, unconsciously staring at your cleavage that he (and the rest of the boys, given your small stature) unfortunately had an eyeful of at this angle.

You seemed undisturbed by his uncharacteristic stiffness, and thank him before heading off to help Oikawa with the net.

Iwaizumi lets out a heavy exhale, running the heel of his palm across his face. He feels a weight on his shoulder, and turns to see Hanamaki, returned from the car with a knowing look on his face.

“What did you have to get from the car?” Iwaizumi said sharply, shrugging the taller boy’s hand off.

“Oh, nothing.” Hanamaki replies airily. “Mattsun just decided to deprive me of the chance to have my hands all over our dear, sweet manager.”

Iwaizumi shoots him a glare. “You’re gross.”

Hanamaki holds his hands up in admission. “Come on, don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy that.”

“She’s one of my childhood best friends, you pervert.” Iwaizumi retorts as he pulls his shirt over his head.

“Yeah, yeah, but she’s your childhood best friend with a great fucking rack.” Hanamaki snickers. “Who knew manager-chan was so well endowed?”

At this, Matsukawa lets out a snort. “You’re just now realizing this?”

“What, you’ve been ogling her before this?” Hanamaki sneers. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Matsukawa rolls his eyes.“Have you just not been using your eyes? She wears tank tops all the time at practice, it’s not exactly hidden.”

Hanamaki makes a noise of indignation at that, and starts to shuffle through the cooler they’d brought.

“What’s not hidden?” Oikawa asks curiously, having apparently finished setting up the net and joined their conversation.

“Our manager’s stellar pair of tits.” Matsukawa replies as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Iwaizumi feels slight panic at the sound, whirling around to make sure you weren’t within earshot. He relaxes when he sees you still by the net, fiddling with the ties.

Oikawa lets out a snort. “You just noticed?”

Hanamaki lets out another disgruntled noise. “Why didn’t anyone say anything?” He hands out beers as he continues to whine about the unfairness of being kept out of the loop on how hot their manager was.

“Because you’re all perverts.” Oikawa says in a sing-song tone. “And if you touch her, I’ll murder you!”

Iwaizumi’s frown deepens. “Don’t lump me in with those idiots.” He mutters.

Oikawa lets out a laugh. “Fine, fine, Iwa-chan, you’re not like these two.” A wicked grin spreads across his face. “You can touch her.”

At that, Iwaizumi chokes on his drink. “That’s not,” He sputters through coughs. “what I fucking meant!”

Oikawa and Hanamaki are cackling now, while Matsukawa smirks at him silently. When he looks up, he realizes you’re staring at him from across the beach, a confused look on your face. Great.

He’s trying to even his breathing as he stares back, realizing as his face heats up, that, maybe, just maybe, the things he’s feeling for you are not in fact strictly platonic.

He tears his gaze away from you to glare at his friends, who are getting a real fucking kick out of his sudden revelation.

He’s going to murder all of them for this.

Oikawa was a really fucking clingy drunk.

You were sitting on the floor in Hanamaki’s living room, empty beer cans strewn across the coffee table, Oikawa’s arms wrapped around your waist, and forehead resting on your shoulder as you sat in his lap. Any time he drank, he was like this, without fail.

Your friends were all used to this, so you weren’t really sure why Iwaizumi seemed unusually irritated by his behavior tonight. “Shittykawa, are you going to play the game or not?”

Oikawa perks up at that, and leans forward to take a card from the table. When he manages to grab one, he holds it up triumphantly.

“Eight is mate!” He chirps. “I pick our manager-chan.”

You roll your eyes, taking a sip of your drink as he ruffles your hair and rests his chin on your shoulder, wrapping one hand around you again as he tries to place the card under the beer can tab without opening it.

Lady luck has smiled upon him, evidently, because he manages to wedge the card in place with only mild difficulty, and avoids the telltale hiss of an opened can.

It’s your turn next, and when you lean forward to grab a card, you notice Iwaizumi suddenly avert his gaze from you. You furrow your brow in confusion, though you’re quickly distracted when Oikawa snatches the card out of your hand, turning to show the rest of the group.

It’s a queen, you realize.

“We all get to ask a question.” Oikawa purrs, setting it on the table in front of you. “Me first!”

You roll your eyes, taking another sip of beer. “Go for it, Tooru.”

“If you had to date one of us, who would you pick?”

You whip around to glare at him. “None of you!” You immediately spit out.

“That’s not a valid answer!” He replies cheerily.

“Yeah, we’ve answered way worse questions tonight.” Matsukawa grumbles.

You scrunch up your nose in dissatisfaction. You’d have to kick Oikawa in the shins later for putting you on the spot like this.

“If I had to choose,” You sigh. “I guess I’d pick Iwaizumi.”

The man in question stiffens at that, eyes widening.

Before you can process that further, Oikawa is whining in your ear. “Not me?” He wraps his arms around you tighter. “How mean, princess.”

“Don’t call me that, you oaf.” You wiggle in his grip, trying to get him to loosen his hold on you.

“How mean to all of us, really. You barely even had to think about it.” Hanamaki’s voice cuts in, mock offense painted on his face.

You roll your eyes, giving up on escaping Oikawa’s vice grip on your waist. “You morons are all well aware that you’d make shitty boyfriends.”

Matsukawa tilts his head, smirking down at you from his place on the couch. “Not Iwaizumi though?”

Your gaze flits over to the man in question, who has still yet to say a word.

“He’s a whole lot nicer than the rest of you.” You snark back.

As the words leave your mouth, Matsukawa lets out a barking laugh, slapping Iwaizumi on the back. “Can’t disagree with that, I guess.”

“Next question,” You say sharply, eager to keep this conversation moving, far away from this topic. Iwaizumi was, without a doubt, the nicest out of the four boys at the table, which was the main consideration, but there was also the whole, chiseled body like a greek god thing you were still reeling from. If it had been suddenly apparent on that one movie night, it was even more apparent when you all went to the beach, and you did your best to avoid staring. Thankfully he seemed unaware, and was wholly focused on annihilating Matsukawa and Hanamaki in beach volleyball, with a viciousness unlike his normally cool-headed nature.

(Oikawa, obnoxiously perceptive, did not miss the way your gaze lingered over him, and gave you shit over it after. You have a feeling that was why he asked this question, the meddling asshole.)

Anyways.

Matsukawa obliges your desire to keep the game moving, at least. He pretends to ponder his question deeply, before he speaks.

“When was the last time you masturbated?”

You wrinkle your nose in distaste. “You’re gross.”

“Bold of you to assume our sweet manager would do something like that.” Oikawa cackles from behind you.

“Fuck off, Tooru,” You jab your elbow into his stomach, and his laughter is cut off when he wheezes at the impact.

Hanamaki grins toothily at that. “So when?”

You shrug, absentmindedly, trying to avoid making eye contact with Iwaizumi. If you looked up, you would notice he was staring pointedly at his beer, obviously also trying to not look at you. But you were too focused on your own awkwardness, because, well, the last time you had masturbated had been after the beach trip last weekend.

It’s not your fault that Iwaizumi was hot, okay? He was attractive, you had eyes, what the fuck were you supposed to do about it?

On the car ride home, every brush of your skin against his had sent shivers down your body, and when Matsukawa had dropped you off at your house, you had gone straight to bed and grabbed your vibrator from your drawer, remembering how Iwaizumi’s hands had felt on your skin when he’d applied sunscreen to your back.

It was not your proudest moment, no, but you were currently grappling with the realization of your attraction to your longtime best friend, had broken up with your last boyfriend over six months ago, and you know what, it happens.

And besides, it’s not like your friends wouldn’t do the same fucking thing, Hanamaki was always making sex jokes towards you, and you wouldn’t put it past Matsukawa either, even if he was a little more subtle. You always noticed him staring at your ass when you bent down to pick up stray volleyballs during practice in high school. He wasn’t slick.

“Gotta be more specific than that, sweetheart.” Matsukawa’s drawl snapped you back to the situation, and you sighed. You wished suddenly you’d masturbated more recently so you didn’t have to admit it was the same fucking day as the beach trip.

“Saturday, I think.”

At that, Hanamaki laughs so hard he falls off his seat. You shoot him one of your most withering glares, and he just keeps howling. “We were literally at the beach all day, what did you do, go home and immediately rub one out or something?”

“Fuck off Makki, you’re like the biggest pervert I know.” You snap.

Matsukawa shoots you a knowing glance, and Oikawa is snickering under his breath. You roll your eyes, and glance at Iwaizumi for the first time since you answered the question. His expression is unreadable, though there’s a slight flush on his cheeks. You’re pretty sure it’s the alcohol, though.

“Anyways…” You continue. “Next question.”

It’s Iwaizumi’s turn now, and you’re relieved knowing that if someone in the group will go easy on you, it’s him.

“What’s your favorite type of beer?” He says quickly.

A smile flits across your face. “Sour. It’s fruity.”

“Lameeeeeee!” Hanamaki jeers. “You’re no fun.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and smacks Hanamaki over the head. “You have no filter.”

“Yeah, so anyways, my turn. Which of us would you have sex with?”

“Oh, fuck off Makki.” You throw your empty beer can at him.

He dodges it, impish grin on his face.

“Yeah, I’m vetoing this one for my own sanity.” Iwaizumi grumbles. “I don’t want to think about my childhood friend having sex with any of you gremlins.”

Hanamaki opens his mouth to retort. Oikawa, thankfully, beats him to it. “It’s too similar to my question, dating implies sex.”

“So she wants to have sex with Iwaizumi?”

“Shut up Makki.” You both say in unison.

When you played drinking games like this, it wasn’t unusual for questions to be somewhat sexual in nature. Growing up with Iwaizumi and Oikawa, you felt like you often got treated like “one of the boys”, for lack of a better term, so there’s not a whole lot they censored for your delicate ears. But this, combined with your newfound attraction to one of your best friends was making your face flush. You would probably rather die than admit to Iwaizumi that you probably would let him fuck you into a mattress if he asked nicely. Or maybe even not nicely, actually!

He’d given you no indication over the years that he was interested in you, so you really didn’t want to make things weird by suddenly coming on to him out of nowhere. You glance up at Iwaizumi, who looks mostly unperturbed, save for the tension in his shoulders. He’s sipping his beer, rolling his eyes at Hanamaki, who’s still trying to generate a new question.

“I’m calling this round over.” You call, slipping the card under the tab of the beer can.

But it must be karma for refusing to answer, because with the wedge of cards shoved under the tab, yours is the final straw. You hear the telltale hiss indicating the seal has been broken, and you sigh, shoulders slumping against Oikawa’s chest behind you.

He pats your head gently. “Better finish your first drink quickly, or you’ll be double fisting.”

“I know that, Tooru.” You huff.

Hanamaki seems to be extremely pleased at this outcome. “That’s what you get for chickening out on a question!”

Iwaizumi stands up, grabbing Hanamaki by his collar. “Go get a new beer for the next round, dumbass.”

How had he gotten to this point in his life?

Iwaizumi Hajime liked to think that he was a pretty decent guy. Respectful of women, kind to children and old people. Dutiful, hardworking, the works.

And yet, he felt like a fucking scumbag right now, hand gripping his cock as the icy water from the shower rained down upon him. He had tried to avoid this, obviously, by taking the cold shower. But it wasn’t enough to get his stupid, traitorous brain to stop thinking about you, and so here he was.

The day had started off pretty normal. Bored and with nothing else to do, he joined his friends for volleyball. You sat nearby on the grass, halfway watching the group as you idly scrolled on your phone.

He had really tried not to stare when you’d gotten there. But thanks to the prodding of a certain two perverts, he’d become very aware of your “great fucking rack”, as they had so crudely put it. The tank top you were wearing cut low on your chest, and he thought he was doing a fine job being discreet until Oikawa had strolled past him, tapping him on the shoulder as he did, and leaning in to whisper, “If you gawk that openly, she’s going to notice.”

At that, he had opened his mouth to protest, before realizing he couldn’t really even deny it. He promptly spun on his heel and stalked off to follow his pain-in-the-ass friend to the sandy court they were playing on.

And if your top wasn’t enough to distract him, well, suddenly the pair of shorts that he’d seen you wear a million times before seemed infinitely more revealing, when he’s actually looking at them. They’re short, for one, and cling to your form, for two. Every time they take a break, he finds himself staring over at you, laying in the grass with your long, slender legs extended in front of you.

The smooth skin of your thighs looks so soft, and he finds himself wondering what it would feel like to have them wrapped around his head.

He blinks. You’re waving at him.

That’s a thought he really shouldn’t be having. He pours some of his water on his face, causing you to look quizzically at him from your place on the ground.

After that, he’s determined to focus on their game, and not think about the way that every time you stretch overhead, your shirt rides up, exposing the flat plane of your stomach that he really really really wants to press his mouth to and-.

Fuck.

He’s awful.

It’s at this moment, that he’s not paying attention, he realizes the ball is coming straight to him. Panicking, he moves at the last moment to pass. His delayed reaction causes him to shank the ball though, and it flies overhead and into a tree, now stuck in the branches.

“Aww, lame.” Oikawa whines.

“You’re absolutely getting that.” Matsukawa calls over his shoulder as he goes to grab his water.

Iwaizumi jogs over to the tree, grumbling, “I know, I know.”

When he gets there, staring up at the ball that’s tauntingly just out of reach, he realizes he’s not going to be able to get this on his own. Climbing the tree isn’t exactly an option either, given that the lowest branches are the ones that the ball is stuck in, and therefore, also out of reach.

With a sigh, he turns around, intending to flag down Matsukawa in all his 188 centimeter glory. But you’re standing there, peering up at the ball beside him.

“I think I could reach it if you put me on your shoulders.” You say.

Had they done that exact thing a million times to get a ball from the trees as kids? Yes. Did it feel slightly different now that you were most certainly not kids and he’d been staring at your legs all day? Also yes.

“Eh, I think Matsukawa could probably reach it if he jumped.” Iwaizumi replied, trying ever so desperately to avoid the situation without looking like he was trying to avoid the situation.

“Not doing that!” The aforementioned man shouted from afar, waving a hand dismissively.

Iwaizumi swallows a grimace, and shrugs. “Alright then, get on up.”

He kneels down so you can swing your legs around his shoulders, thighs pressed against either side of his face. He is trying oh so hard right now to think of literally anything else. The unsexiest things possible, like, the disgusting mold that grew in the Seijoh boys’ locker room, or the way Hanamaki vomited all over his own shoes the first time that he drank alcohol.

Your thighs are soft though, he thinks as he stands, forced to grip your legs to keep you steady on his shoulders. He knows he shouldn’t but he really can’t help but have his mind wander, as he shifts forward to where the ball rests in the branches.

And it’s a fleeting moment, before you successfully retrieve the ball, and he’s kneeling down once more, and he takes a half-beat too long to let go of his grip on your thighs. You tap his hand gently. He retracts them, and you slide off of him, like this was totally normal, because it was normal up until not long ago.

Until one day his brain had suddenly decided to just start processing the fact that, yeah, you were a girl, and he liked girls, and he liked you a whole fucking lot, and all that shit about his love for you being entirely platonic was apparently nothing but a lie he’d told himself to avoid the truth of the matter, which was that he was really stupidly, infuriatingly, attracted to you.

After this miserable realization, he’d somehow managed to maintain the willpower to play volleyball for a few more hours without just having an aneurysm, but as soon as the group started to break, he hightailed it home, sparing little explanation to his bewildered and amused friends. Well, you seemed mostly bewildered, not so amused.

But the other three certainly seemed amused, and it made Iwaizumi want to smack the knowing grins off of their faces.

And that, was the story of how he ended up in this position, in the shower, having failed to suppress his desire for his fucking childhood best friend of all people, now jacking off to the memory of your thighs wrapped around his head, and the way he’d pressed his fingers into your delicate skin.

He imagined you stretched out across his bed, head thrown back in pleasure, one hand fisting the sheets, the other tangled in his hair. He thought about how it would sound to hear breathy moans escaping your throat, what you would taste like as he buried his face between your legs, licking and sucking at your clit until you came undone on his tongue.

In a clearer state of mind, he might have been ashamed. Maybe there was a part of him even now that was ashamed of what he was doing. But he really couldn’t bring himself to stop, the cloud of lust and desire making his mind hazy as he thrusted into his hand.

Closing his eyes, he could pretend it was you, your soft, small hands gripping his cock tightly, slow and tentative at first, before picking up the pace, racing your hand up and down his shaft, over and over. He lets out a groan at the thought, movements becoming more erratically, chasing his release.

And when he cums all over his hand, he lets out a shaky breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding, letting the steady flow of the shower wash all evidence of his misdeeds away.

Resting his head against the cool tile of the shower, he blinks awkwardly, lust-induced brain fog beginning to clear, and the reality of his actions starting to sink in.

He was fucked, wasn’t he?

“Who do you think I should marry?”

You’re currently settled in his lap, and twist around to look at him, a pensive expression on your face.

Iwaizumi shrugs, watching you make your character run in circles on the screen. “Who do you want to marry?”

You stop spinning for a moment to open the character menu, scrolling through the options. “Well, Sylvain is an option.”

”Absolutely not.” He cuts in.

You laugh at his immediate rejection. ”Okay, no Sylvain I guess.”

”It’s shocking you’d even consider him.” He grumbles under his breath.

You shrug. ”He’s kinda charming!”

”If your type is a misogynistic, lying, womanizer, then yeah I guess he is.”

”He’s changed!” You protest.

Iwaizumi sets you with a stern look. You sigh.

”Felix?” You suggest next.

He lets out a noncommittal hum. “Better than Sylvain, that’s for sure.”

You huff. “You’re such a hater.”

“For telling you that the war criminals in this game aren’t good potential husbands?”

You feign outrage, putting a hand to your chest. “Aren’t you supposed to support me?”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes at this. “I didn’t realize I was obligated to fully endorse your choice of Fire Emblem husband.”

”You absolutely are!”

”Okay, then marry whoever you want.”

“I will!”

He feels his lips curl upwards in a smile as he watches you, face twisted in indignation, your nose scrunched up in that cute way you always do whenever you bicker over pointless things.

About a week ago, you had showed up on his doorstep, proudly holding the new Fire Emblem game that had come out that day. You had suggested that the two of you play together, just like you’d played the previous games as kids, taking turns for the different battles. While it ended up being mostly Iwaizumi watching you play, he wasn’t really too bothered by that, and mostly appreciated the opportunity to spend more time with you. Not that you didn’t already spend time together, of course. He just appreciated any time he got with you, even if he was just watching you play video games. He especially appreciated time away from the obnoxious, overly perceptive gaze of your other friends.

It was nice to spend time with you without their friends intentionally trying to fluster him. Recently, Oikawa had decided it was a great idea to go on and on about how pretty you looked every single time you met up. You’d roll your eyes and punch him in the shoulder, but that didn’t stop him from then turning to Iwaizumi, a knowing look in his eyes, and cooing, “Don’t you think she looks pretty too, Iwa?”

You did look pretty, you always did. But he accidentally said that aloud last time Shittykawa had posed the question, and he was still trying to block that out of his memory. Alas, he could still vividly picture the way your eyes had slightly widened in surprise at his earnest response, and the shit-eating grin that spread across Oikawa’s face as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer towards him.

Iwaizumi had ignored the unreasonable pang of jealousy in his chest that bloomed every time he saw any of their friends being so physically affectionate towards you. It wasn’t like they had just started this recently, it was always there, and he had no right to be jealous. You weren’t his, and you had the full right to be as touchy-feely with your friends as you wanted. But he still recalled with distaste how clingy Oikawa had been the other night when you’d played Kings, grinning at him from across the room when you weren’t looking as he held you in his lap.

It was like Oikawa was trying to goad him on, to make him jealous. He probably was, honestly. He’s Shittykawa for a reason.

As you shift in his lap, he remembers that this habit extended to him as well, a fact he’s simultaneously grateful for and hates at the same time, trying to focus on anything but the way your ass is rubbing against his crotch right now.

As he feels his face heat up and his entire body tense, he wonders to himself, how did he ever deal with this? How was he ever not aware of how attractive you were?

He’s given little time to ponder this, when he hears you speak. “I think I’m going to marry Felix.”

All thoughts of Fire Emblem and dating simulations have left his mind as he tries to muster all his willpower to prevent himself from getting a boner with you in his lap.

”That’s nice.” He manages to croak out.

You laugh, twisting around to look at him. He really wishes you would stop moving so much. ”Well that’s a departure from your earlier opinion.”

He shrugs noncommittally, willing you to just turn around again and stop looking at him.

Fortune does not favor him, however. You continue staring, a confused expression beginning to form on your face.

”Are you okay?” You say, voice laced with concern.

”I’m fine.” He responds slightly too quickly.

”You’re really red.” You place your hand on his forehead. He wants to die. “Are you getting sick?”

”No, it’s just hot out.” He mutters.

You’re setting the controller down now, completely turning to face him, settling your legs on either side of his as you straddle him on the floor of his room. He briefly thinks that this is exactly like something out of one of his humiliating wet dreams from high school that he wrote off as general teenage hormonal weirdness, blissfully unaware of how actually attracted he was to you.

He really wants to die now.

“Are you sure?” You’re staring at him intently, hovering far too close to his face for comfort. (And sanity.)

”I’m sure.” His voice cracks as he speaks.

You frown, and you literally won’t stop wiggling in his lap as you fuss over him. At this point he can’t even be blamed if he’s hard, anyone would be in this position. He’s more shocked you haven’t noticed-

You jolt upwards suddenly, an awkward smile gracing your features.

You let out a nervous laugh, gingerly settling yourself down, now a few inches back from where you were before.

He hopes this is a bad dream. That he’ll wake up any moment now, that none of this will have ever happened, that you remain blissfully unaware of the fact that he’s so attracted to you it hurts.

Alas. What feels like an eternity passes in silence, both of you staring at each other, faces flushed.

Iwaizumi opens his mouth to speak, but you get to it first.

”I’m sorry.” You say, wringing your hands awkwardly.

He lets out a strained laugh. “I feel like I should be the one saying that.”

”I’m the one who sat on you.” You’re avoiding his gaze, though, he’s kind of doing the same.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. ”You’ve done that ever since we were kids.”

”I know, but we're not kids anymore.”

“You just noticed that?” He teases, trying to keep the mood light despite the fact he wants to melt into the floor beneath him.

You cross your arms and shoot him a glare. “I guess?”

Silence settles back over the two of you. You’re staring anywhere but at him, and he knows he has to do something to salvage this.

”Hey,” He begins awkwardly, taking your hand in his. He feels you stiffen further, and curses himself internally for somehow making you more uncomfortable.

You stare at where he’s holding your hand, and he wonders if he’s ruined everything between the two of you, years of friendship down the drain because he couldn’t control his stupid dick.

“I don’t want things to be awkward between the two of us.” He says, throat feeling dry. “You’re one of my best friends. I don’t want that to change.”

It’s nearly imperceptible, but he swears he can see your shoulders sink as he speaks. He’s starting to panic. What is he doing wrong? Why did that make you more upset?

You open your mouth, then close it, then open it again, like you can’t find the words you’re trying to say. Finally, he hears you mutter something quietly under your breath that he can’t quite make out.

He leans closer. ”What?”

He’s desperate to salvage whatever remains of this relationship he has with you. It’s bad enough he can’t be with you, but to not even have you in his life at all? He doesn’t think he can manage that.

You wrinkle your nose in frustration. “I said, do you find me attractive?”

He freezes. That wasn’t what he expected. Did you really need to ask, in the situation you’re in right now? He feels the tips of his ears burning with embarrassment.

”I feel like the answer to that should be kind of obvious.” He mumbles, covering the lower half of his face with his hand.

You look up at him, expression unreadable. ”I want you to tell me.”

He gapes at you, not sure how the conversation had taken this turn.

”I-, yes?” He chokes out. “Did you think I got a boner from you sitting in my lap because I thought you were unattractive?”

Your face flushes. “I don’t know! You can’t control what it does!”

He groans. “Believe me, I’m aware of that fact. If I could, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“Is it so bad?” You say quietly.

His brow furrows in confusion. ”What?”

”Being attracted to me?”

“That’s not what I said.”

”Then why are you acting so weird about it?”

”I don’t know-“ He snaps. “I don’t want to freak you out!”

It’s your turn to look confused, and you stare at him blankly. ”Why would it freak me out?”

”Because we’ve been friends for the majority of our lives, and now all of a sudden I’m realizing how badly I want to be more than friends with you? And I’m hyper-aware of how attracted I am to you, like all the fucking time?” He blurts out before he can stop himself.

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he regrets it.

You’re gaping at him, eyes wide, not saying a single word in response. Great. He really went and did it this time, didn’t he.

He leans back against the bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering how it came to this.

You poke him in the side, and he continues avoiding your gaze. You frown. ”Would it make you feel better if I told you I felt the same way?”

He groans. “Don’t say that just to make me feel better.”

”I’m not!” You say, voice laced with frustration. “I like you too, idiot.”

He blinks.

Maybe this really is all a dream.

You pinch his cheek. ”Hey, say something.”

“You’re being serious?” His voice wavers as he speaks, and he’s almost more embarrassed in this moment than anything else he’s experienced so far today.

Your gaze softens. “Yes, Hajime. I’m being serious.”

He feels relief wash over him when he hears you say those words, and he surges forward to wrap his arms around you tightly.

You lean into him, wrapping your arms around his neck and nestling your head into the crook of his shoulder.

”I’m really glad that we had this conversation.” He murmurs.

You press a kiss to his jaw, and he shivers at the contact. “You can thank your dick for that.”

”Way to ruin the moment.” He huffs.

You let out a noise of indignation. “I did not!”

”Hanamaki and Matsukawa are a bad influence on you.” He flicks you on the forehead. “You never used to be so dirty-minded.”

“You never used to get boners when I sat in your lap.” You tilt your head, tone teasing. “So what does that make you?”

Iwaizumi looks away, tips of his ears bright red. “Oh, shut up.”

A wicked grin crosses your face. “Wanna make me?”

The flush has spread from his ears to the rest of his face by now, and he’s wondering how his face can feel this hot when he knows most of the blood in his body is rushing straight to his dick as you roll your hips against his.

He meets your gaze, trying to look confident, like he’s not as nervous and overwhelmed and, quite frankly, fucking ecstatic, as he is. It’s like he’s a teenage boy all over again, about to have sex for the first time.

”Yeah, I do.” He grits out, grabbing your thighs and wrapping them around his waist before standing up to set you down on his bed.

And as he hovers above you, your hair splayed out across the comforter, eyes darkening with lust as you paw at his belt with desperation, he wonders how things ever worked out this fucking well.

Any semblance of coherent thoughts are soon lost when you pull his dick out of his pants, and place your soft hands around the shaft, and he relishes in how small your hands look holding his cock, exactly as he’d so shamefully pictured just weeks ago. You give it a few tentative licks as you stare at it breathlessly. You lick your lips, and then you’re taking him deep in your mouth. When he feels himself hit the back of your throat, he lets out a strangled moan.

He watches as your pretty pink lips wrap around his shaft, and bob your head up and down. When he hits the back of your throat again, you let out a quiet whimper, and he feels the vibrations of the noise on his cock. Embarrassingly, he’s about to fucking cum on the spot, so he pulls you off of him, panting like he’s just run a marathon.

You look up at him in confusion, and when he takes note of the trail of saliva still dripping from your mouth to his dick, he barely chokes back another groan.

”Do you not like it?” You say, concern flickering across your features.

“No, no, that’s not it.” He laughs nervously, and rubs at the back of his neck. “I was just, uh, probably going to cum really fast if you didn’t stop.”

You tilt your head. “Isn’t that the point?”

He tugs at the hem of your shirt. “I really want to fuck you.” His voice is raspy, even to himself.

The corners of your lips twitch upwards into a smile. “Eager, aren’t we?”

”Shut up.” He mutters as he helps you lift your shirt over your head. When you move to shift your skirt off as well, he stops you, not quite able to meet your questioning gaze.

His voice is quiet when he speaks. ”Leave your skirt on.”

You smirk at him. “Who’d have thought sweet, gentlemanly Iwa-chan is a bit of a pervert?”

He huffs in exasperation. ”Are you going to make fun of me the entire time we have sex?”

”I’m just teasing you.” You purr as you help him shimmy out of the rest of his clothes, and discard your bra and panties on the floor.

“Just let me enjoy this.”

You’re about to say something snarky back when he cuts you off, pressing his lips to your own forcefully. It’s not the most elegant kiss, your teeth knocking against each others’, but it conveys the urgency you’re both feeling, the result of weeks of sudden unresolved sexual tension all coming to a head.

Iwaizumi is a bit rougher than you would have expected, what with how he was always the most gentle and considerate with you out of your group of friends. But now, he’s biting at your lower lip, forcing your mouth open before shoving his tongue inside, and you wonder when he became this forward.

You let out a gasp when his hand finds its way to your nipple, pinching it between his fingers. He pulls back, a self-satisfied smirk on his face, and you’re about to tell him that he shouldn’t look so proud when he presses his mouth to your collarbone and bites hard, and you can’t help the moan that escapes your lips.

He continues his way up the side of your throat, alternating between wet, open-mouthed kisses, and digging his teeth into your delicate skin. You know for a fact these are going to leave bruises, but you really can’t bring yourself to care when you feel his hand snake its way under your skirt and start to rub circles against your clit, all while continuing to mark up your throat and chest.

When he slips his fingers into your heat, much thicker and longer than your own, and starts to curl them against the exact spot that you like, and embarrassingly, you know you’re not going to last long.

“You’re so wet, just from this?” He leans forward to whisper in your ear, any earlier sense of nervousness or bashfulness completely gone.

”Shut up,” You choke out, interrupted by another gasp as he resumes the pressure on your clit with his other hand.

You know he’s not quite as unaffected as he’s trying to portray right now, given the sheen of sweat across his forehead, and the way his dick is twitching against your thigh, still just as hard as it was when he so rudely pulled it out of your mouth.

You can’t focus on that for long as he slides another finger inside you, and leans forward to lick at your nipple, already puffy and red from his earlier abuse. You feel your whole body tingling, and you know you’re close when you can’t help but let out a whimper at the overstimulation.

He continues relentlessly, fingers working inside of you while continuing to apply pressure to your clit with his other hand, and you feel yourself arching into his mouth. You don’t even care how needy you look right now, you just want to feel good, and Iwaizumi is making you feel so fucking good.

Your whimpers turn to shallow, breathy moans, and you feel your climax wash over you, a pleasant sensation spreading through your body. Your body relaxes, tension finally dissipating.

Iwaizumi rests his head against your chest, watching you with a smug look on his face. “So, I take it you enjoyed that?” He says casually.

You roll your eyes. ”Obviously, Hajime.”

”Just checking!”

You don’t miss the way his eyes rake over your body hungrily, and you sit up suddenly, pushing him down beneath you.

His eyes widen at your sudden movement, and you grin down at him. ”It’s my turn to make you feel good now.”

Nervousness flits across his features, and you tilt your head at him in confusion.

”I uh,” He says awkwardly. “don’t have any condoms with me.”

You shrug. “I’m on birth control. So if you’re clean… and you’re comfortable with it, we can go without.”

He blinks.

”Are you… sure?” His voice is embarrassingly squeaky to his own ears. He’s had sex before, yes, but always with a condom, and the idea of fucking you raw makes him feel like he’s about to pass out from how fast all of the blood in his body is rushing to his dick.

You nod, tilting his chin upwards to look at you. “Are you?”

He nods resolutely. He never pictured this happening, but now, being here with you, it feels so unbelievably right.

With a smile, you lift yourself slightly off of him, careful to keep your skirt as clean as possible when you’re about to fuck him in it, and line up his cock with your entrance. You’re already plenty wet from before, so he slides right in, and when he feels himself your tight, wet, pussy gripping his cock, it takes all of his willpower to not immediately buck his hips upwards into you.

He glances up at you, and you’re biting your lip, a faint look of discomfort on your face. He immediately freezes, and reaches for your hand.

”Are you okay? We don’t have to do this if it hurts.”

You blink, and smile at him. “It’s fine Hajime, I just need to adjust.” You let out an awkward laugh. “You’re just, uh, bigger than I’m used to.”

He feels his cock twitch at that, and he’s embarrassed by how weirdly satisfied he is to hear those words come out of your lips. But, he still really doesn’t want to hurt you. He’s horny, yes, but not an asshole.

“It’s okay, just go slow.” He rasps as he gently sets his hands on your hips. You nod, starting to sink down on him, taking more of him in slowly. He lets himself lean back, losing himself in the pleasure of feeling your cunt squeeze his cock. When he finally feels himself bottom out within you, he lets out a shaky breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

He lets out a strangled groan when you start to move, and he snakes his hands under your skirt to grip at your hips. ”Fuck, baby, you’re so tight,”

In what feels like a role reversal, you’re the one staring down at him with a smug expression on your face now.

”Does it feel good?” You purr in his ear as you lean forward, moving to scrape your teeth along his throat.

If he got to leave the absolute mess of bruises and bite marks on you, well, you were going to be sure he got it right back.

His breath hitches when you sink your teeth into his throat, and you set to work marking up his skin while you bounce up and down on his cock. His hands are still gripping your hips, now so tight that you’re pretty sure it’s going to leave marks. As if he hadn’t already done plenty of that.

But, it’s hot, so you’ll let it slide.

It took a little bit of time to get used to his size, and there was a slight discomfort at first, not painful, but a dull burning as you stretched to accommodate him. But now, you didn’t feel that at all, just sheer pleasure as you felt the drag of his cock on your walls, sliding in and out.

You’re enjoying the sound of his breathy moans beneath you when suddenly he surges upwards, pushing you back onto the bed. You peer up at him, and he’s looking at you like he wants to devour you when he grabs you by the waist and is suddenly twisting you so that you’re on your hands and knees.

You’re about to say something snarky over your shoulder when he flips up your skirt and slides into you from behind in one smooth movement, and you can’t help the whimper that makes its way past your lips when he hits so much deeper than before from this angle.

He leans forward, caging you with his body and planting sloppy, wet kisses to your neck and back as he thrusts into you. His pace quickens, and you feel his hand wrap around your body to grope at your breast, making you shudder when his fingers find your nipples, pinching at them gently.

You wonder why the hell it took you so long to realize how fucking hot Iwaizumi was. You wonder why you haven’t been doing this for ages, why you ever dated all those losers who didn’t fuck you even half as good as he was right now, but you’re torn out of those thoughts by a particularly deep thrust that tears a moan from your throat.

You whimper his name, which seems to spur him on, and his pace becomes increasingly brutal as he continues to fuck into you, hands now roaming the entirety of your body, mouth latched onto your throat.

He noses at your ear, panting heavily. “I love you, so, so fucking much.”

You almost think you imagined it from how quiet it is, but you must not have, because he says it again, though you aren’t given much time to process this when he turns your head gently to shove his tongue into your mouth as his thrusts start to feel erratic, losing their earlier rhythm.

He comes with a strangled moan that sounds a whole lot like your name, and he collapses down onto the bed, pulling you with him and into his chest.

The two of you lay in silence like that for a while, before you tap at his shoulder gently.

”I should probably go pee.”

He blinks sleepily, and nods, letting you shuffle out of his embrace.

When you look in the mirror in the bathroom, your eyes widen at your disheveled state. You knew Iwaizumi wasn’t being exactly gentle with you, but god, these marks were going to be fucking impossible to cover up.

With a sigh, you quickly use the bathroom, wipe up the stickiness dripping out of you, and head back out to join him in bed.

He’s half asleep already when you crawl back in, but he wraps his arms around you still and pulls you close, and you bite at your lip.

“Hajime?” Your voice sounds a bit weak, even to yourself.

”Hm?” He murmurs, and he’s so cute you feel like you could die.

”Did you mean what you said?”

“What part?”

You pause, wondering if you should even bring it up. Maybe it was just a heat-of-the-moment kind of thing.

Fuck it, you’ve already had sex with your best friend of nearly twenty years, how could this make it any worse?

”Do you love me?”

He leans back, looking at your face, his expression soft and full of fondness.

”Yes, I do.”

You feel your heart skip a beat at that, and you can’t help the stupid grin that flits across your face.

He gently nudges at you. “It’s okay if you don’t want to say it yet.”

You frown, and poke at his cheek. “Hajime, you know I love you.”

He frowns, a slightly pained look on his face. “I know you do, but I think I love you in the, I want to be your boyfriend kind of way.” He rubs at his eyes. “And I’d really like to try that with you, if you’re willing-“

You cut him off, pressing your lips to his, and you feel him stiffen momentarily before he relaxes, melting into you.

When you pull away, you fix him with the most serious look you can muster when you’re still naked in his bed. “I am.”

The corners of his lips twitch up in a smile, and he exhales. “I’m glad.”

You hear a voice that sounds exceptionally shrill.

Unfortunately, you don’t recognize it in your sleep-induced stupor. In retrospect, you really wish you had, but instead, you just nestle deeper into the covers, and try to tune it out.

It’s getting louder.

God, why won’t it stop? You’re trying to sleep, here!

You hear the sound of a door opening.

You blink your eyes open, and struggle to adjust to the sunlight streaming in from the window next to the door.

”Holy shit!” The voice says, followed by a high pitched cackling that sounds a whole lot like a hyena.

”What the fuck do you want, Shittykawa?” A second voice, deeper, and raspier, like they had also just been woken up.

The gears in your brain start to move. You freeze.

Oh.

Oh my god.

You had sex with your best friend.

And now your other best friend was walking in on it.

Oh my god, you were still completely naked.

Iwaizumi is sitting up in bed next to you, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, while you try to shrink yourself further beneath the covers. You prayed to god Oikawa came alone. He’s still cackling madly, and you press your fingers to your temples.

“I didn’t think you had it in you, Iwa.” He manages to make out the words in between his hysterical laughter.

Iwaizumi groans, pulling the covers up over you. “Just get out of here, Shittykawa.”

”How rude!” Oikawa whines. “I came to hang out with my two best friends in the whole world, and this is the welcome I get?” He acquiesces, though, pausing at the door to shoot you both a knowing look, and then shutting it behind him.

It’s silent for a moment before Iwaizumi clears his throat awkwardly. ”Well, that wasn’t how I wanted him to find out.”

You let out a laugh, despite yourself. “Yeah, me either.”

Your phone buzzes from where it was left discarded on the floor. Iwaizumi’s buzzes on the nightstand.

You both sigh, reaching for them.

Sure enough.

✉️

[Tooru] 3:23 PM: get dressed and come hang out with me, or im telling makki and mattsun that i walked in on you guys banging

…

[Tooru] 3:24 PM: ok i already told them either way but still come hang out :(

[Hajime] 3:24 PM: you didn’t even wait a minute??

[YOU] 3:24 PM: rude

[Tooru] 3:27 PM: my own two best friends abandoning me rn smh

[Hajime] 3:28 PM: we’re coming chill out

[Hajime] 3:28 PM: unless you want us to come down naked

[Hajime] 3:28 PM: never mind don’t answer that

[Tooru] 3:29 PM: ;)

#haikyu x y/n #haikyu x reader #haikyu x you #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi x y/n #iwaizumi x you #laikawrites

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