#the first two songs and the middle class are all REALLY good | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dilf-docs · 4 months ago

Text

To The Devil I Know

bfd!joel miller x younger!reader

summary: your infamous girl's trip with your best friend sarah gets crashed by his overprotective dad.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, p. in v., fingering, oral (m. and f. receiving), brat taming, it's pussy spanking time again bc i do in fact like it a lot, praise/daddy kink sprinkled somewhere, reader calls him mr. miller A LOT, exhibition kink (v nasty), degradation kink (he calls her little slut), pantie sniffing, dirty talk (they have a sentence awaiting in horny jail), y/n grinds on joel's nose bc yeah i too want that, this is contradicting but lwk sub!joel bc that man's touch starved as HELL, may do a part two idk pls give it love, dad!bod joel bc i say so (yummy), no angst (wtf dilf-docs? the angst gods are so pissed off rn)

word count: 7,195 words

side note: this request got me HOOKED the moment i opened it and since i'm currently on a pedro hyperfixiation rn, we need to put the mental illness to good use. also, this is lwk based on the song by suki waterhouse devil i know! :) i'm seeing that i have two joel fics with devil in the title btw something something abt nickels and not being a lot but weird it happened twice also WE HIT 300 FOLLOWERS??? (and its 1am and i have to wake up at 4am is anyone surprised atp...)

part: prev | masterlist | next

"Sarah!" you shout, "get your ass out here you looser!"

It's probably eight in the morning, and here you are, honking and shouting in the middle of the quiet calm suburbs.

When you spot her curly head running towards you in a rush, you know she's pissed.

"Stop screaming!" she shouts back, "my neighbours will hate me"

You've known Sarah since you were kids. When you first moved to Texas, she was the only one who spoke to you in school. You grew up with her among white picket fences and scrapped knees, mantaining the friendship even as you moved away, until your return for college.

"Why would I even care? I don't live here!" you joke from the driver's seat, hopping off and giving her a hug. "I'm sorry but I can't help it. I'm just so excited for this trip, we've been planning it for ages!"

You keep talking excitedly about your plans, not noticing how her face falls.

"Yeah, about that..."

"You girls ready?" a third voice enters the picture, definitely not belonging to a girl.

"Uh, Sarah" you breath in, "Why the fuck is your dad here?"

In all his glory: Joel Miller, a guy you haven't seen in forever, too busy living in the dorms, girl dates with Sarah often out of her house. You wanted to explore the world: you weren't ten anymore, and the suburbs lost all of it's appeal they had when you were the age of Barbies and drawing on chalk.

"Listen, y/n. I tried, I really tried. But as soon as I opened my mouth, he started to pack his bags"

"Isn't your dad always busy at work?" you inquire, another one of the reasons Joel's face isn't a fresh memory in your head.

"That's part of the problem. He took all of the pending vacations he had at once" she sighs, sounding as dissapointed as you are. "I understand if you don't want to go"

"Are you being serious right now?" you chuckle dryly. "No, absolutely not. I saved for this trip, packed my favorite outfits and aced all my classes so my parents would allow me. Nothing is going to ruin this for me: not you, not your dad. So we'll go and we'll have all the fun we planned, yeah?" you express firmly, holding her hands. "We will have our girl summer, no matter what. Even if we have to ignore the elephant in the room..."

"Did you just call me fat?"

You turn around, and there he is: the uninvited. Joel Miller's aged face stands before you, strong arms flexing under the pressure of a couple of suitcases.

"No" you reply back, "just a nuissance"

He chuckles at your response, amused. "If you thought I'd let my babygirl go alone with you to the beach and get shit-faced drunk, you're not as smart as I remember, y/n"

Your name would always be on his tongue to call you out. Y/n, don't do that. Y/n apologize to the neighbours. Y/n, slow down. Y/n, don't be so stubborn. You were always a troublemaker, and his lips would only know how to pronounce your name if to berate you. But now, as his mouth says your name with a newly learned tone, dripping with dare and amusement, you can't help but feel a fire ignite that burns your skin.

"Dad!" Sarah calls out, taking you out of your thoughts. She flushes in embarrasment, and you scoff at the idea of giving too much of your time to think about Mr. Miller of all people. "I'm not ten anymore, we'll be just fine"

"You're barely of legal age!" he counters back. "What if somethin' was to happen to you, huh? I'd never forgive myself"

You get annoyed at his over-the-top reactions. What did he think you were gonna do? The wildest thing you had in mind was getting drunk while sitting in the sand. Not even in the water! You may be a wild spirit, but stupid you're not.

"Look, Mr. Miller" he cocks his head to the side, daringly so, almost as if waiting for you to try. "I don't know what you're thinking, but this isn't Driveway Dolls" he looks at you confused, so you try again, "Or Thelma and Louise, whatever suits your fucking old ass. Alright? This is a girls trip, heard that? Just two bestfriends enjoying their youth and summer without boys around to ruin it for them"

"Boys?" he laughs. "Too bad, then, 'cause sweetheart, I'm a man"

Your breath hitches, but you're not going to let him win; you always need to have the last word.

"Well, man up and let your daughter be free for once!"

Sarah covers her face with her palms, clearly knowing her dad more. This is a lost battle.

"Stop, y/n. Please. Dad's impossible to bend"

"He's ruining our trip!" you protest, feeling like a child throwing a tantrum.

"Take it or leave it" he leans against his truck, crossing his arms. Your eyes dart to the strained fabric of his sleeves, and when he chuckles, you don't know if he noticed or it's because of his imminent victory.

"Fine!" you throw your hands in the air, dramatically so. "Welcome on board, intruder"

Joel Miller smiles, and maybe it's the rare sight, not even common back in the day, that makes your heart skip a beat.

"And we're taking my truck"

"Are you being serious right now?!" Was this man going to take away all your freedom?

He laughs, mockingly. Rage bubbles in your chest, along something darker you aren't going to admit just yet.

"There is no way my daughter is going on a fucking hatchback to the beach"

You try to distract yourself talking to Sarah in the backseat, but her dad's prying glances time to time from the rear view mirror have you shifting uncomfortably on your seat.

He's persistent, always has been. Joel Miller, just as Sarah said, wasn't a man who could be bent. You'd remember thinking he was a sort of superhero: unbreakable. Whenever Sarah needed help, a pair of strong arms would be there, ready to take the weight off of her shoulders. He was now older, as you have noticed: grey and wrinkles sprayed all over his face. And now, the worst part of it all:

Age had made him infuriatingly attractive.

Unfair, you think, that a man so bitter that only seemed to worry and nag, was blessed with the rare quality of aging like wine. You can deny it anymore: whatever Joel Miller has now that he didn't before is working on you like a lovesick spell.

You look again to the front, just in time to catch one of his subtle (not really) stares. You keep the eye contact, only he tears away his gaze first, something akin to regret and fear circling on his warm brown orbs. The fire from before cracks inside of your belly, and the anticipation begins.

If he was going to ruin your trip, you might as well return the favor.

"M' gonna stop for gas" he says after some minutes of silence, deviating towards a gas station.

You take the opportunity to get out of the truck to strech your legs. Sarah does so too, but then whispers into your ear:

"Tell my dad I need to go to the bathroom. Don't want him worrying"

As if you'll talk to him. Despite that, you nod and she leaves you alone with her annoying dad.

"Reckless too, huh?" Joel appears by your side, almost making you drop your phone. "You know you're not s'pposed to use the damn phone on a gas station? Good thing I ain't let my daughter go alone with you"

You put your phone down. "Reckless? I know what I'm doing" but you sound nervous, for some reason.

"You haven't changed at all, have you?" Joel says, his voice surprisingly soft.

You heart gets stuck in your throat at the sudden shift, "I suppose not"

"I get that you hate me" he confesses, done filling the tank, "but I couldn't let the two of you go alone"

Your cheeks turn pink at the accusation, "I don't hate you"

He laughs, and the sound has something stirring in the lower of your belly. Why is Joel Miller of all people provoking feelings in you no other boy has ever provoked? You're used to playing with boys as you please, and you come to realize that's where the difference lies: you don't know how to handle a man.

A man so strong, your eyes don't leave him as his arms flex while pumping the gas, the delicious peek his simple white shirt gives you not going unnoticed; droplets of sweat on his temple, sliding down his jawline then getting lost down the crook of his neck. You lick your lips on instinct, horrified when you realize what you've just thought and done.

"Damn right you don't"

You could say you've reached some kind of truce, but then Sarah comes back, and when you look at Joel again, he's reverted to that annoying apathic state of his, but instead of bothering you, it only makes you want more.

"Hey" he says to Sarah, "where you went?"

"I had to pee, dad. Relax" she dismisses, shooting at you a can-you-believe-it look.

He walks away, ready to jump in the driver's seat again, when he turns around to whisper to Sarah:

"Don't ever leave me again" tone stern, "not with her"

But you hear.

You arrived late, the sun hiding behind the large body of water that seemed infinite.

"I can't believe we missed the first sunset!" you whine. "It was going to look so good on my Instagram stories..."

"This generation and their problems" Joel scoffs, taking the suitcases to the house you've rented for the next two days.

The answer is right at the tip of your tongue, but you decide to be the bigger person and remain quiet. If he wants to play, you better play smart.

"Dad, please" Sarah calls him out, and you have to hide a laugh. "Don't fight with y/n"

"I ain't doing shit" he sneers, crossing his bulking arms.

Sarah walks past him, muttering against his childishness. That angers Joel, who tries to remain cool.

"I know you hate me" you suddenly appear by his side. Your vainilla scent gets up on his nose, invading his body of you. "I just think you should try, for Sarah"

"I don't hate you" he answers, and now it's your turn to laugh.

"Yeah? Doesn't seem like it, Mr. Miller" it comes out before you can stop it, and there's something dark lurking behind his brown eyes piercing through you.

"I don't" sounding more sure this time. Serious too.

"You'll have to prove that"

You enjoy the surprise on his face and the light pink sprinkled across his cheeks.

"Prove that?"

You nod, finding all of this suddenly funny.

"Hmh, you heard me. Prove it, Mr. Miller. That you don't hate me"

But before he can respond, your bestfriend is back.

"Y/n, come on! You need to check the house. It has a shared balcony!" Sarah beams giddy.

You let her excitement infect you, taking her hand as you go inside the house. Joel stays back, your words ringing on his ears.

On the other hand, Sarah and you check the room together.

"Look this" she points at one of the mirrors in the room: it has details that remind you of the sea. "Isn't it cute?"

"It is" you agree, "we should take a picture"

"Okay. But use your phone" she says, "mine died on the road"

You're about to pull it out when you feel your pockets empty.

"It's... not here"

"You might have left it in the car" she tries to help.

"Yeah" you try to remain level-headed, "I'll go search for it"

You return to the truck, pressing your head against the window. Just like your friend guessed, it's there, abandoned on the seat.

"Lost somethin'?"

You gasp, turning around. Joel Miller's face is centimeters away from yours, breathing heavily as his body cages your smaller frame against the truck's doors.

"My phone" you find your voice after what feels like eternity, "it's inside the car"

"Need help with that?" his voice sounds low, whisper easily to be confused with a growl.

You don't know how to answer, scared for the first time of where your mouth could take you. So your solution is to nod, and step aside for him to open the car.

"There you go" he's dropping it in your hands, fingers lightly brushing yours. There's a shiver down your spine despite the cool weather, and you know damn well it's all his fault. He may feel it too, by the way he takes a step back, putting some distance.

"Need anything else?" but it feels like a slap to the face, as if he's challenging you to speak what you've been thinking but are too coward to do when he stands before you.

"No" you mentally slap yourself for how pathetic you sound, "this is all I needed, Mr. Miller. Thanks"

You look back one last time, despite it all. And there it is: that same look he gave you in the car.

"Anytime" but it falls deaf to your ears, as you basically ran away from him.

Him and his imposing presence, enough to make your legs tremble and your mind to stop working. Him and his smell, that brings you back to simpler times and reminds you of a a secret place in the woods, musk getting under your skin. Him and his breath, hitching when you touch hands. Him and his beating heart, just as loud as yours.

"Took you long" Sarah comments when you return, "I was already falling asleep"

She doesn't know or suspect, you tell yourself, but that doesn't stop you from feeling sick.

That night, as Sarah lays by your side and you try to sleep, all you can think about is his big hands, the lingering feeling of a warm touch. And then Joel, stepping back―coming to his senses, as if something is holding him back.

Anytime.

You can't help but wonder what stopped him.

Days have blurred between drinks by the poolside, waves crashing, wet sand in your fingers and sun carressing skin.

Despite what happened, Joel remains in the shadows, letting you and Sarah enjoy your trip in peace. You may be spending time with your bestfriend, but his presence hangs in the air, impregnated with his strong pine and whisky smell, looming over you like a shadow; suffocating, like his scent is all you can breath. You hate how your mind keeps going back to him, because despite your inicial claims to ruin him, that wasn't the purpose of this vacation, yet Joel seems to have infected you with a need that corners your mind to think of him and him only. The greed you feel is unnatural, like a spell has been cast upon you. He may be far, just as you wanted, and you should enjoy that, but it's that very same distance that is driving you insane.

Today, you and Sarah decided to go diving and then play volleyball.

The day ends, the sun sets, and so does the tiredness. But as Sarah's snores fill your ears, you toss around the bed, trying to conceal sleep to no avail.

Staring at the ceiling, you kept drifting back to Joel, mind wondering and heart racing at thoughts of strong arms caging you, warmth in your body that the breeze creeping through flowing curtains fails to provide.

The sound of wood creaking jolts you awake. His silhoutte is hard to miss, and your eyes follow it cross your bedroom. You pretend to be asleep, his scent up your nose as he walks in careful measured steps, trying not to wake you up. He looks back at Sarah, and the moonlight betrays him when it shines over his eyes, revealing an adoration that gnaws your chest.

He keeps walking, until he reaches the shared balcony. It's then that you make a choice, heart pounding in your chest as you race yourself from bed, going his way.

You go outside, finding him resting his arms on the balcony, facing the beach in silence. Soft waves crash against the wet sand, but not even that can overpower the sound of your beating heart.

"What're you doin' here?" he's asking, even if you haven't moved from your spot. Seems like your friend wasn't joking about his heightened senses, despite his old age. "Thought y'were 'sleep"

"Well, Sarah is a fast sleeper" you answer, walking to his side.

"She sure is" and the faintest of a smile appears on his face.

Joel Miller is a mystery to you: the most closed off man you've ever met, hiding behind his apparent apathy that only seems to be gone whenever Sarah is around. She's the apple of his eye, and those soft traces of a more tamed character that come to light have truly picked your interest, begging for more crumbs that will help you puzzle who he really is: he, that is as handsome as a mystery. The worst is, you don't know what attracts you more.

But you won't let him win.

"Mr. Miller?"

"Yeah?"

"Were you married?"

He looks at you, dark eyes partly iluminated by the moonlight.

"Aren't you a bit too young to be bold?"

"And aren't you too hot to be all alone?" you reply in an instant, rendering him speechless.

He chuckles, but it sounds defeated rather than amused.

"Trust me, kid" he's back at facing the ocean. Goddamn coward. "This isn't what you want"

"Don't call me kid" you berate, almost repulsed at it. "I'm twenty one"

He scoffs. "Still hella young"

"But I know what I want" a wavering hand ready to trace over his pecs, but he's stopped you before it descends. Before it's too late.

"You don't" he assures, grip on your hand stronger, without knowing how much you're enjoying this. Or maybe he does. "See? That's the problem with you kids: you think you do, but you don't"

You loose your patience.

"Tell me then, Mr. Miller. Would a kid do this?"

Taking the distraction, the same hand flies now to grop his dick, and to your surprise, it's already hard.

"Seems I'm not the only one who doesn't know what they want"

"Stop" he warns, hissing when your eager fingers unbuckle his belt. It's huge, for some reason, and you can't help but feel an ardent throb at the thought of grinding on it.

When your eyes look at Joel, he swears he sees you devilishly smirk, almost as if you were mocking him.

"Stop?" you bite your lip, feigning innocence as doe eyes look where dark ones had done before. "If that's what you want, you aren't even trying"

You kneel down, and the position gives you the perfect side of his adam's apple bobbing in a nervous gulp. He grows insecure under your intense stare, breath hitching when the wind hits his now free member as you pull down his underwear, revealing it hard and leaking with precum. You laugh delighted, with victory, and he finds himself trapped between the moon and your games, drowning on a sea feet away.

"I think I know what you want"

"How? You don't even know what you want" barely fighting it.

Your fingers grace over his soft abdomen, tracing down his belly and happy trail. Your teeth nip at the skin scattered with soft rosy lines, peppering the skin with fluttering kisses to entertain your mouth until your digits touch his hard cock. Joel whines, squirming, and you're delighted with the receptiveness, needy sounds escaping his lips.

You haven't even started yet.

"You're right, I don't" you agree. "All I know is you piss me off and that you ruined our trip, so I'm gonna take my anger out on you one way... or another"

You take your first lick, savouring the dark red head. His hips buck, a shaky gasp robbed from his chapped lips.

"Fuck" he exhales weakly, lost against the sound of water.

"Don't worry, Mr. Miller. I'll take good care of you" admiring his girth. He looks down on you, bottom lip caught between his teeth. Joel can't lie and say he isn't fascinated with the way you look at him, not believing so much appetite can fit in such a small young body. Not even his partners before you, had looked at him like he was the best thing in the world, and now here you were: the loud-mouthed brat best friend of his daughter, sucking his cock while Sarah slept just a few meters away. Just yersteday he was bickering with you, not standing your spoiled attituted and juvenile spirit that can't be tamed and won't shut up. Hell, you had even disrespected him. But here he is, not being able to find the words or actions to stop you: because he doesn't want to.

It was all so fucked up.

But then you're closing your lips around his swollen head, and he knows there's no point in fighting it anymore, his whole body urging him to give in.

"Oh, fuck" he pants, getting all worked up as you take him deeper. "Keep goin'. You're doin' a great job, sweetheart"

The praise gets to you, even if not needed.

Your tongue swirls, running the muscle with wet slides, up and down, tip to base, some pressure applied. You proceed to take in his balls, feeling him tense up. You wanted to mock him badly, but your mouth was full of his dick, so that wasn’t happening.

"D-don't stop" he pleads, sounding more like a whine.

He's deep enough that it hits your throat. You've never been this greedy, but also, have never tried with a dick so big. You feel him in the roof of your mouth, your lips at the base of the tip, brushing against skin. Joel can't keep up: breath hitching, moans ragged and consumed, barely standing if it wasn't for your hands digging in his thighs for support.

You keep building pace, seeing Joel's face scrunch up.

"M' close" his voice comes out strained, his head tilting back, wild soft locks from before now plastered against his forehead, dripping with sweat. His muscles tense, you can feel it, and it's just about time before he's coming inside your mouth.

You want it. To taste more of him, who you claim to hate but feels oh so good. Strong, just as his presence.

"So good, fuck, you're so good" in a tone so needy and desperate. It falls out of his lips, followed by more unintelligible praises dripping from his tongue.

And then, in a shaky breath, lost to the wind:

"Y/n"

You gasp, and he feels it, the air ticklish on his sensitive skin.

Joel said your name.

Your name, in a way it had never been said before. Uttered like a prayer, submerged in devotion. Your name, melting into his moans, deep within him, the calling full of a primal desire. The experience is intoxicating, making you crave more.

Joel comes with a groan, head falling back. Your name dies on his lips as his hips thrust up with your lips closing in. Thick spurts of cum mix with saliva in the back of your throat. You pull out, a string of saliva still connecting you to his dick. He looks down on you, body shaking as much as yours. Without breaking eye contact, he wipes some of the mess drooling from your lips, his calloused thumbs carresing you with a softness you didn't think was possible. The contrast makes you falter a bit, and you know Joel notices.

"There you go" your voice comes out hoarse, avoiding his eyes, "now you know what you want"

He chuckles, giving you a hand to stand up. As you raise to your feet, his face is barely inches away from yours. You can see the lines time has marked across his face, the grays coloring hair you remember to be brown, and those eyes―piercing through you like they know you better than you know yourself.

"But do you?"

Joel Miller doesn't know what is regret.

He didn't feel it when Sarah arrived unexpectedly at the ripe age of twenty, forcing him out of college. He didn't feel it when Sarah's mother left him alone to raise his daughter all by himself, aware he had tried it all to make it work. He surely didn't feel it when you came back after leaving Texas, long gone the childlike wonder and features that made him see you as an extension of his daughter, his gaze lingering a bit too long on this familiar face in a beautiful blooming new body.

But this is different, and he isn't sure if, for the first time, he's finally known what is regret.

Joel Miller also doesn't know when to back out of a fight.

He remember his brother Tommy, practically begging to let go of some asshole that dared to pick up on him, knuckles bloody no matter if he was young then and old as stubborn now, the same red painted across his willfull hands.

But now those hands prickle and sweat, no matter how much he runs them over the fabric of his jeans. And now, as your dangerous stare pierces through him across the small table, Sarah oblivious to the game as she quietly munchs her cereal, Joel Miller backs down, his gaze the first to look away.

He realizes just now why he was so afraid to look up to the sky after you left. The same stars that stared back from the high of the dark night are akin to the ones dancing in your eyes.

"Mr. Miller" your voice breaks his train of thoughts.

"Where's Sarah?" he asks in a panicked voice, realizing you've been left alone.

"Brushing her teeth" you answer, slightly taken back by his tone. "We were going out today, remember?"

Ah, yes. A little tour to an island not to far away from there.

"M' not goin'. Sorry, kid" he's decided. Before you can speak, Sarah returns and asks the question herself.

"M' tired. That's all" but it sounds rather an excuse.

"Are you sure, dad?" Sarah presses, not sure why he had changed his mind at the last minute.

"Yeah" he insists, all while avoiding those eyes of yours, unsatisfied and searching for answers of questions qithout a voice. "You girls go and have fun"

So you do.

You go and feel like you're inside of Mamma Mia (your favorite movie; both of you learned ABBA's discography thanks to it, something that offended your parents), the sun reflecting in the water, the little island with its green and sun, and the flowers that dust their petals into the shore where your boat arrives.

But when the trip is over and soft waves rock your return, you think of Joel.

You think you should feel at least a little ashamed of becoming so obssesed with a man in barely two days, who, on top of it all, is your bestfriend's dad. But then you remember the taste of him inside your mouth, how his dick had rasped against your throat, his seed warm in the tip of your tongue. And then his eyes, promises meant to be broken locked away behind tides of fear, that do an excellent job of reminding you how easy is to drown; to fall for how in hazel flickers, Joel seems he'd give you the world.

"Let's get drunk" you deadpan once you're back at the shore.

Sarah laughs at your determination, then realizes you're serious.

"What?"

"Yeah, it's our last day here" you reason. "Besides, your dad isn't here. What's he going to say?"

If you sound between angry and dissapointed at his absence, Sarah remains quiet.

"We're running away" she tries one last time, but by the look in your eyes, you've made your choice.

"Are we? We're twenty-one, Sarah. We can do whatever the fuck we want" you feel rebellious all of a sudden, "what? Don't you wanna give this trip a grand finale?"

So you crash into the nearest bar and waste the night away, drinking and dancing. But you're ordering a drink you don't like, and in every glass of whiskey down your throat, his name hangs in the air like the memory of his smell, locked behind a vault as if it's too sacred to say. But when Sarah gets a boy to dance and lends his friend to you, you wish there was rough where soft meets your skin, and chapped when you kiss his lips. Your body burns ablaze with sweat, alcohol and regret, a dangerous combination that makes you pull Sarah out of the bar when you feel you're about to black out. She complains, but you're set on making it to the bed before your eyelids shut.

Maybe it's because you always had what you wanted, or maybe it was the forbidden, but whatever reason had pushed you in Joel's orbit, refused to let you go.

And maybe you're imagining his voice, scolding you like a kid. Maybe you're seven again, and in the shadows of the bed, you've gone back to your childhood days. Y/n, y/n, y/n. That sick berating tone of his, acting like you're stupid and small.

"Fucking brat" he spats, drops of his angry scowl landing on your cheek. You then realize he's hovering over you, and it's real, not a product of your foggy mind. So you stand up, sobering up a bit, when he charges back again. "Makin' my daughter pass out? What the fuck were you thinkin'? Could've ended in the middle of the street. You're s'pposed to go to the damn island and then come back!"

Your mouth tastes like sand, but even if you've passed out a couple hours ago, the fire doesn't die. So your tongue is back, finding it's voice to say:

"Well, if you hadn't left us alone, this wouldn't have happened"

He chuckles, darkly. Humorless. "I see"

"What?" you challenge, a shiver down your spine that looses itself somewhere else.

"You got my daughter drunk as revenge"

You're mortified at the accusation, the remnants of alcohol now long gone of your system.

"Do you think I'd risk me and my best friend's safety for you? Out of all people, you?" not caring if you sound bitter.

The truth sticks to your skin as uncomfortably as the sweat.

"I dunno, sweetheart. That's why I'm asking you" the pet name rolls effortlessly, in a rough voice that creates a wet spot in your panties. He gets closer, and you can see the tremble of his lips as he lets out a shaky breath. "Be a good girl and answer"

"I won't tell you shit" you spit.

"You little minx, thinkin' you can run your tongue like it ain't been 'round my cock before" you look like a deer caught in headlights, and Joel's enjoying this more than he should. "That's right, what'd Sarah think knowing her friend's a little slut for'er daddy's cock?"

The electric current that crosses your body sparks the fire of the woods hiding behind his auburn storms.

Now you're feeling high on a forest fire. You want the flames to engulf you, even if ashes is all there'll be left.

"Tell me you want this" his forehead clashes against yours, and the whole world falls silent, except for your ringing ears.

"I want this" and he's just as surprised as you are by the unwavering conviction. "I need you, Mr. Miller"

You try to get up, but he pushes you with full force back into your bed. Then, the base creaks, and he's on top of you, his weight pressing you against the mattress.

"What are you-"

"You think I'd let you get away easily? Have things your way? Naive lil' girl" he tuts, "I'll punish you for that"

As on cue, drowned out snores are heard from your side.

"But, Sarah-" you try to protest, his body caging you under his mercy.

"That'll mean you're behavin', right?" he runs his thumb across your lips, gently pulling them down, as if the chase was thrilling as eating the prey. "I know you don't want to wake her up and see her slut of a friend bangin' her daddy"

You tense, remaining silent at the threat, even if your body reacts other ways.

"Good girl"

He’s quick to get rid you of your shorts.

"Fuckin' hell" he murmurs against your neck, the clothing discarded somewhere in the room. "Wearin' this little shitty bottoms to rail me up, knowin' damn well when to bent and get me hard. Been thinkin' of takin' them off ever since you wore 'em first"

The confession makes you whine, and Joel's delighted by the sound, and just how putty you are under his big rough hands.

"Let's see what we got here" his large hands caress your thighs as he settles between your legs. "Black lace, baby? Such a fuckin' tease. Wore 'em for me?"

You shake your head, but his calloused digits dig on the plush skin of your thighs, making you wince at the pain.

"Don't lie to me, sweetheart. You'd said you'll be a good girl, yeah?" you nod, soaking wet, painfully so.

"Yes, I'll be"

"Show me your manners, then" he presses light kisses on the insides of your thighs, close to where you need his graying beard to tickle, "and I'll show you mine"

"Just eat me, Joel" you demand breathlessly. "Fuck. Need you, Mr. Miller, so bad"

"And why should I reward you, impatient little slut? Eager to get daddy's filthy mouth between that pretty pussy" Joel bites the inside of your thigh, and it takes all of your strength to avoid becoming a moaning mess. "You've been bad, sweetheart. A brat"

You deny it, but his head dissappears between your legs, licking the wet spot on your panties. You squirm under the teasing of his tongue, legs shutting close on instinct. You drown a whimper in your palm as he yanks your panties away.

"Don't do anything I ain't tell you to" demanding, and if you weren't this horny and out of your mind, you'd probably be scared. "There'll be consequences"

You try to obey. But then his nose, that big nose you want covered in your slick as you grind off of it between your legs, sniffs your panties. He gives it one big sniff, and then two, fingers going white as he holds the piece of fabric with too much force, shoving it on his face.

"Ye'r too fuckin' sweet, I'll give you that" he mumbles in a drunken haze. "Need to taste that drippin' cunt of yours 'night"

The bed creaks again, or maybe it's the sound of his bones starting to give in to old age, but Joel is sucking your clit, tongue pushed inside of your puffy folds. You hide a moan against his lips, hands traveling to grip his hair.

"Joel" you breathe out.

He parts your folds easily, and before you know it, a rugged finger circles your entrance. Your back arches, and then he leaves place for his mouth again, flicking your sensitive core with his tongue. A moan a little too loud escapes your lips, making his eyes darken when the bed next to you shifts, Sarah tossing in her sleep.

"You dumb fuckin' brat. What'd I say?" his hand slams against your pussy, a sting you've never felt before, both showered in pain and pleasure, spreading across your cunt. "Don't disobey me. Apologize, now"

He stops his minstrations, and you're so achingly close to your orgasm, that the answer falls easy and rushed from your lips.

"Sorry, Mr. Miller"

"Good girl" Joel praises as he pushes his finger in, next to his tongue on your clit.

But the orgasm is so deliciously close, and you can't wait for more. So now you're grinding in his face by reflex, rubbing against his big nose just like you'd imagined. You whine at the sensation, and Joel rests his tongue flat on your clit with surprise.

"Who gave you permission to do that?" but his voice sounds more amused than nagging. "That imagination of yours is somethin' else. Have you been thinkin' bout it all this time, hmh, greedy dirty slut?"

The orgasm looms closer, hitting when Joel pushes a second rough finger in, walls clenching against his digits. He pulls away, licking his fingers with his tongue.

"Such a perfect pussy you got there, sweetheart. As sweet as you when you ain't bein' a pain in the ass"

You laugh breathless, trying to recover.

"Wanna taste?"

So now he's kissing you for the first time, his lips rough against plush skin, nibbling with your lower lips between his teeth, his tongue still tasting like you roaming free inside your mouth, like he wants to mark every corner; imprint himself in you. You've never wanted anything, hell, anyone more. The kiss leaves you hanging, heart racing at the closeness of his face and the warmhearted feeling of his lips on yours, like pieces of a puzzle fitting together.

"There you go" he chuckles, enamoured at the sight of your puffy lips. "Now it's my turn"

He's quick to get rid of the jeans and belt (oh well, it'll be another day) until he's over you, just wearing his boxers.

You'd never seen Joel naked before, why would you? But there's a vague memory of hot summer days, trying to survive the heat in the town's pool, just as the rest. He was there, eye candy for the mothers and horny teens. You hadn't understand back then, when he was all muscle, but you do know, where the mighty strenght is still hidden there, somewhere between his sturdy arms and chest as soft as his belly, round as it pushes above the only piece of cloth that forbids you to see his dick. His chest is full of hair, and God, you feel so dirty wanting to bury your face in the sweat drenched patch.

"Stop lookin' at me like that" he teases, but there is a small voice of insecurity hiding its undertones beneath his smirk under your stare.

"You're so fucking hot, Joel" comes out before you can stop it, now mouth acting up on its own.

Fuck, he thinks, he's too far gone. There's no point of return.

Your eager fingers pull down the underwear, fingers grazing the softness of his length. You slowly grabs his dick as he comes closer, never seeing anything as big and provoking as it. That makes you tighten your grip on his dick, which stands proud and tall, leaking precum, and the muscles of his thighs strain against his skin.

He positions himself between your legs again.

"Let's put this big bad boy to use, huh?"

He grunts at your words, large hands finding your thighs for support, as he caresses up and down the skin littered with marks and kisses.

Joel pushes in. Just his tip, yet your mouth falls open at how large he already feels, and you tighten your hold on his neck.

"Tell me if it hurts" all softness on his eyes, his forehead falling against yours, as if he hadn't been punishing you just minutes ago. Your heart races at the gesture, tender meeting the rough of his edges.

The real question isn't asked, but you're on the pill and you trust him. You just want to fill him inside of you, all of him.

"I will, Mr. Miller"

He slams all the way in. You let out a broken sound, quickly muffled by his palm as he stays buried deep inside of you, givimg you time to adjust to his size. It burns, but you enjoy the way the pain feels. He slowly pulls out, before pushing all the way in again. Your slick folds take him, and he grunts, supporting his aching body by the forehead against yours one more time.

"So tight, sweetheart. Ain't nobody ruinin' this pussy but me" his growl comes out possesive as Joel establishes a steady rhythm. You softly moan as he keeps moving, pounding into you, hitting a spot no one had before, making you see stars. It gets harder to stay quiet, but Joel caputres every little sound that comes out of you in a kiss, as if that way he could preserve them better and forever.

You wrap your legs tight around him, keeping him close as your walls clench around him, his thrusts harder yet slower as he keeps going, ramming into you.

"Look at you, coatin' my dick like a fuckin' meltin' ice cream" he gently pushes it again between your folds, rubbing his dick on your clit. "So fuckin' wet, for me"

His lips are slightly parted and his eyes looked all fogged up, lost in the fire, thrusts becoming sloppier as he too feels it coming.

"So fuckin' pretty" drips from his mouth, and there's the stars in your eyes and the light you insist he's always had, even if he'd prefere the darkness. "The prettiest girl in the world with the sweetest pussy, givin' it all to this ol' perverted fuck"

The words and his big dick inside of you makes your eyes flutter shut on instinct.

"Don't sleep on me, baby" he coos, a hand brushing damp hair from your face. You recognize the look: the same in the car, on the balcony and on the poarch of his house, after letting the years go by. Back then, you thought you had dreamed it, but now that the secret saccharine sweetness reveals herself as he slams into you, you know it was real.

This is real.

You meet his gaze again and try to hold it as he pounds you so gently yet so rough, trying to show him without words that whatever this wrong and sick feeling was, you felt the same.

"Such'a good girl, takin' me so well" Joel grunts, slamming to the hilt. "Fuck, sweetheart, I'm gonna-"

His dick twitches inside of you, walls spasming around his cock as your pussy takes it all, milking him dry.

"Take it all, like the good girl you are"

Both of you pant, and it takes him a while to realize the sun is raising again until its rays hurt his eyesight.

He's about to tell you how this shouldn't be, how he, at such an old age shouldn't be pinning for his daughter's friend: so young, sweet and loud-mouthed. No matter if you felt the same, or if your body was marked in and out by him. No, because wanting isn't enough, and no tide could wash away his sins from the shore.

"Listen, y/n-" your name like he has never said it before: no scold, no malice nor lust. Just a softness he hadn't felt in years, asleep under thick layers of cold.

But your soft snores fill the silence between the beats of his heart.

credits: divider @kodaswrld / gif @loregifs / tags: @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pedrosgrogu thank you sm for reading! hope u enjoy it :)

#dilfistwrites #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #bfd!joel miller #bfd!joel #tlou #tlou fanfiction #to the devil i know series

2K notes · View notes

sharlleglerg · 3 months ago

Text

some funny parts from lorenzo & arthur’s interview by autohebdo:

Could you share an anecdote that would help us understand what Charles was like as a child?

Lorenzo: Arthur and I might have different perspectives because I’m nine years older than Charles. My best friend was Jules Bianchi, and we spent a lot of time fooling around on a circuit, having fun, and testing all kinds of karts and tires. Charles was always in the middle of it all and wanted to do the same as us. Even back then, he was extremely competitive, always trying to race against the older kids and beat them. He had the same qualities that define him today: elegance and class in his approach. He is ultra-competitive, but in a fair way. I’ve seen him break tennis rackets, but always out of frustration with himself rather than others. He’s a very fair player.

Arthur: Umm… fair play? Maybe not so much with me! (Laughs) Especially when we played PlayStation—he always gave me the broken controller! That little prick! (Laughs)

Charles became a pianist, and Arthur, you also play music. Who is the best musician in the family?

Arthur: In the beginning, Charles was terrible at piano, I have to say! (Laughs) I remember the first time he touched a piano at our country house—someone was teaching him a song. I was behind him, and he was struggling a lot. Then, I took over and played the song perfectly on the first try. (Laughs) So he gave up and switched to the guitar, which was an even bigger disaster!

Lorenzo: Especially for us!

Arthur: Acoustic guitar, electric guitar… he tried everything! (Laughs) But he eventually got better. He later returned to playing piano, learned much faster, and now he’s actually very talented!

But who is the best musician?

Arthur: We play very different styles. I prefer classical music, while Charles plays more calm, nostalgic songs—he likes that kind of atmosphere. (Laughs) In terms of technique, we are quite similar.

Lorenzo: I’ll be the judge since piano isn’t really my thing. Arthur has perfect pitch, meaning he can replay any song quite easily. He never wanted to take piano lessons, which disappointed our grandmother, who would have loved a great pianist in the family. But Arthur never liked the idea of sitting next to a teacher for long hours. So on one hand, Arthur has a natural talent but only plays when he wants. On the other hand, Charles worked hard at it, especially during the COVID lockdown in 2020, and he’s become really impressive, considering how busy he is!

Between the two of you, who is the best uncle to Leo, Charles’ dog?

Arthur: I think we’re both not great uncles!

Lorenzo: We tried our best, but Leo is a very spoiled dog. He demands a lot of attention—he doesn’t sleep alone and isn’t exactly the cleanest. I decided to take care of him during the day but not at night. He’s adorable, but not always easy to manage!

Arthur: He goes crazy every time he sees me, but I’ve never actually taken him home. I’m the fun uncle—I only see him for the good times! (Laughs)

#charles leclerc #arthur leclerc #f1

484 notes · View notes

uolarieclosed · 10 months ago

Text

lee heeseung ☆ ! if you let me

━━━ in which you make quite the impression on lee heeseung who became head over heels in love with you …

SCHOOL BOYFRIEND HEESEUNG who first fell in love with you when you punched him in the face for being rude.

SCHOOL BOYFRIEND HEESEUNG who couldn’t stop smiling while his friends took him to the infirmary. despite getting his shit rocked, he remembered your pretty face.

SCHOOL BOYFRIEND HEESEUNG who really confirmed his feelings after you apologized with a pack of frozen peas upon seeing the large bruise forming around his eye.

SCHOOL BOYFRIEND HEESEUNG who started pestering you everyday to go on a date with him.

“it’s just ice cream, jongseob told me you liked pistachio and i know a really good place.” heeseung followed you around the classroom. “you mean the same jongseob you were being an asshole to?” you halt, facing heeseung with a scowl—and he swore he felt his heart explode.

SCHOOL BOYFRIEND HEESEUNG who finally got you on a date and was beyond ecstatic. however he’s never been more nervous; pacing around his room looking for the perfect outfit and standing in front of the mirror practicing his greeting to you.

SCHOOL BOYFRIEND HEESEUNG who had to resist the urge to not kiss you after walking you to your door, but he was even more shocked when you kissed him on the cheek, running into your house.

SCHOOL BOYFRIEND HEESEUNG who met you at your locker the next morning, handing you the latte he argued with a freshman over.

SCHOOL BOYFRIEND HEESEUNG who writes down every little thing you tell him. ranging from your favorite foods to your sibling’s birthdays.

“you remembered?” you open the gift box that held your favorite lipstick inside—knowing it had been discontinued. “i listen to everything you say.” you wrap your arms around him, muttering a thank you.

SCHOOL BOYFRIEND HEESEUNG who keeps his hand in your back pocket wherever you two go out and when he wants your attention, he spins you around by your belt hoop.

SCHOOL BOYFRIEND HEESEUNG who holds your things over his head to get you riled up.

“you’re gonna have to jump higher than that angel.” he laughs while standing on his tippy toes.

SCHOOL BOYFRIEND HEESEUNG who will embarrass himself for your entertainment. such as dancing to your favorite songs in public, letting you try your new makeup products on him, and allowing you recite all of the texts he sends you to your friends.

SCHOOL BOYFRIEND HEESEUNG who gets more affectionate and clingy when he drinks too much at a party he shouldn’t have been at.

“have you always looked this beautiful?” “i can’t believe you’re all mine.” “i think i want you to have all of my children.” “shut up heeseung.”

SCHOOL BOYFRIEND HEESEUNG who wraps his embroidered uniform tie around you so no one even thinks of approaching you when he isn’t around.

SCHOOL BOYFRIEND HEESEUNG who falls asleep with you in class so both of you get in trouble and he can sneak a couple kisses in detention.

“it’s just us angel, the teacher left a while ago.” heeseung tightens his hold around your waist, keeping you on his lap while he leans in with a cocky smirk.

SCHOOL BOYFRIEND HEESEUNG who shows up at your house in the middle of the night with bloodied knuckles and a torn lip. he jokes about how it reminds him of the day you punched him, to which you scold him.

SCHOOL BOYFRIEND HEESEUNG who knows he’s a pain in the ass but he would do anything for you.

976 notes · View notes

lorenzozurzolocanruinmylife · 3 months ago

Text

Mattheo’s girl -Theo Nott x reader/ Mattheo Riddle x reader

(Based on Rick Springfield’s song Jessie’s girl)

T.W.= smut, mdni, kind of stalkerish behavior, alcohol, cigarettes, hopefully that’s it

Mattheo is a friend

Yeah, I know, he's been a good friend of mine

But lately something's changed that ain't hard to define

Mattheo's got himself a girl and I want to make her mine

Theo stayed restless all night, turning right and round in his bed, he went outside to smoke at least 10 times. Something that has been happening for quite sometime, Theo could precisely pinpoint the day he started dealing with this type of struggle, one which he couldn’t seem to get rid of, no matter how hard he tried.

Actually, he could locate the exact place and moment in which things had changed, and his world had turned upside down.

10th of October, 2 months previously

The great hall was filled with noises, glasses clinking, first years snickering, professors chatting.Theo, Enzo, Pansy, Blaise, Draco and Astoria were already at the back of the Slytherin table, discussing their usual topics always adding some new aspects to it.

The only missing piece in their habitual frame was Mattheo Riddle.

The thing about that devilish boy was that nobody ever truly knew where he was or what was he doing.

Lately though, Theo, his very best friend, had notice a shift in his behavior. He found his mate even more mysterious than usual, if that was even possible. He was sly and vague anytime someone asked him anything.

Another thing that Theo seemed to have perceived was the way he came back late in the middle of the night, or how often he just didn’t come back.

Now, everybody knew Mattheo’s nature and the tendencies he had, rumor has it he has an outstanding count, body count obviously. He never denied said rumor, actually, he bashed in the pride that came along with it.

So it should have been normal really, but he never talked about his latest hookups, topic that he was extremely open about, in the quidditch’s changing room, as a fun story time at parties, hell even in class snickering right under Snape’s nose.

He collected those anecdotes mostly to narrate them in a crowd…and now…he just disappeared and came back, not speaking a single word, not indulging in any verdict his friends tried to state.

The only thing that talked were his eyes, and an unnoticeable glistening sparkle of something that Theo had never seen in those, usually starless, eyes.

In the middle of dinner, every single noise, was silenced by a far more powerful one.

The two huge door leaves opened, behind them Mattheo, who was so tall that he shielded you from everyone’s sight.

Until you took his hand in yours and started walking beside him, nearly skipping, looking completely devoted to each other, so much that you both didn’t remotely seem to notice everyone’s stare. He finally arrived at his normal spot, bringing you along.The noises came back to life but not to everybody, no, because Theo hadn’t heard even a single sound from the moment he laid his eyes on you. Let alone he couldn’t see anybody else, or understand anything.

“Guys, I want you all to meet the apple of my eye, my sweet lovely awesome girl. This is y/n, who I’m sure you’re gonna love just as much as I do” Mattheo couldn’t understand how much this last statement would become true. While he showed you off, his eyes filled with thousands of those damn sparkles, Theo started to feel the need to hold you.

And she's watching him with those eyes

But how could he do that if you were so absorbed in Mattheo, focusing on him, and only him.

Theo never knew envy, and he never even remotely thought how gut wrenching it could feel, until that moment; that horrifying split second, that for some reason couldn’t seem to pass.

“Nice to meet you! I’m y/n, you must be Theo? I’ve heard a lot about you” you outstretched your hand towards a very unresponsive Theo.

You knew who he was. That was enough gasoline to light up an immense fire in his chest, so vast that it reached his throat, making him cough, and finally his face…painting him red.

He couldn’t tell if it was more passion or embarrassment he was enduring, but he knew he was crumbling under your beautiful gaze, nonetheless he couldn’t stop this absolutely awkward scene, because of how little and weak he felt.

He took your hand.

He looked up at you.

“I’m sorry- it- it’s just I never thought I could ever meet Mattheo’s girl…never even thought he could have just one” he whispered the last part, you seemed to have heard it though and you laughed, surprisingly.

In that instant- you drying your tears caused by the loud heartfelt laugh, him gaping at your smile, feeling an incredible uncontrollable high because he made you laugh- he knew ha was at your mercy.

Pathetic and lost in you.

Time passed and you started becoming a constant presence in the group, this was driving Theo mad, because he needed to be near you just as much as he wished to be as far away from you as possible.

He was starting to doubt his morals, because anytime he saw you, the feeling he was harboring in his chest- involuntarily- was becoming more and more voluntary. Not only this, but he cared less and less about his best friend, and the fact that you were his.

In fact Theo was convinced that if he had the chance to take you away from Mattheo he would, he desperately wanted to make you his. No matter how traitorous he’d have to be. The only thing that stopped him was you.

And she's loving him with that body, I just know it

Yeah, and he's holding her in his arms late, late at night

You were in love with Mattheo.

Just as much as he loved you.

Just as much as Theo loved you.

You loved him in the daylight, when anyone could see it, walking with him hand in hand, always sitting next to each other -Theo thought that at least it was better than to see you sitting ON him-

always exchanging notes, winks, flying kisses and so much more.

But he knew you loved him in the moonlight, where no one could see.

You loved him with your body.

He just knew it…

31st of October

The Slytherins were organizing a Halloween party, that was one of the most awaited every year.

You were in Mattheo’s dorm, laid down on him, facing him lazily while sharing some light kisses. You decided to go at the party in a couple’s costume, as if you hadn’t launched your relationship enough -thought Theo, who would have done anything to go with you, even if it meant dressing up in the most ridiculous way ever.

As soon as Theo entered the room, followed suit by Enzo, he felt as if the scene unfolding before him was stolen directly from his nightmares.

He craved your touch, your faint kisses, your arms around his neck and your sweet words, just as much as he needed to throw up right there and then.

Enzo peeked over Theo’s shoulder as he was standing still paralyzed by the envy tugging at his heart, and mostly clouding his mind. He gave his friend a little push, “move your perv ass Theo, I need to pee” and just then he realized Mattheo was glaring at him because of his blatant stare, so he coughed and immediately threw himself on his bed.

Mattheo turned his glare towards him again, protectively holding you twice as close as before. It was no secret that he was jealous of anyone who simply looked in your way, how could he not? You were attractive in a way that was far more than just physical, your whole self had a pull on every single person you met, you were irresistible. That’s probably why his friends, who were the most selective and elitist group of people in the whole school not only accepted you as one of their own, but also requested your presence the very few times you weren’t around.

Theo heard some of the suggestions you two were debating for the costumes, imagining him and you in each of them.

He started to feel hot as the options were becoming doubly spicier than the other.

He had to get out of there.

The party had already started when you guys showed up, you were gorgeous, dressed in a long white dress that had a pretty deep neckline, and where your heart was supposed to be there was a knife with fake blood all over. You had a white veil too, while Mattheo was wearing a tux with red handprints on the shirt.

It was sickening really, you were a bride, and he was your goddamn husband. Theo who was already holding a drink downed it as fast as he could. Trying to get that horrible image out of his mind.

As you reached the group everyone was complimenting you both, “you’re the it couple” “you guys look so good as husband and wife!!!” Pansy and Astoria yelled. They stole you away from your fake husband to dance and take far too many shots. Which still weren’t half the ones that Theo drank, in fact he could hardly stand on his two feet.

He returned to the group, and he thanked whoever was helping him from above that you weren’t there, because in the state in which he was he would have definitely poured his feelings out, and possibly even a mix of the cocktails he downed.

“Man I’ve never seen you so whipped for any girl- actually I may have never seen you even interested in any girl. Y/n has some super power” Blaise said teasingly to Mattheo, who was looking out for you from a distance just to know you were safe, and also because he was entirely too stunned by your beauty. “What can I say? I knew from the very first second I’ve looked at her that she was the one, she doesn’t remind me of any other girl that I’ve met, I don’t think I could find another one like that” “And also, look at her” Enzo chimes in raising his eyebrows, earning a push and a chuckle from Mattheo.

Theo was sat on the sofa, his head in his hands, thinking that it was better if he just kept silent and even better if he didn’t spare you one glance.

As the party went on he watched as you and Mattheo were tangled in a hot embrace while dancing, touching each other and basically humping to the rhythm of the music. He suddenly grabbed a girl that was dancing in front of him, with his eyes wide shut he started to imagine it was you dancing, it was you pressed tightly against him, it was you kissing him and it was you he was leading to his dorm.

He was about to stumble in with the mystery girl, the actress, until he heard some loud noises.

He broke away from her, telling her to stay quiet, while he slowly leaned towards the door hearing the most heavenly gasps and moans he ever heard. He turned back to the girl and while she tried to imply to go back to her dorm, he ignored her turning back once more.

Obviously she wasn’t expecting this, and left as disappointed as Theo had never left another girl before. But he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to hear more, to fuel his fantasy, giving it something concrete, starting somewhere real to land in his most incredibly feral imaginations. He leaned a bit more on the door and it opened slightly, he was relieved that it didn’t make any noise, and most importantly he was ecstatic that he got to sneak the sight he had been dreaming about since the day he first saw you.

He didn’t care that this was clearly a violation of your privacy, he couldn’t bring himself to look away.

The image of you on top of his best friend, bouncing on him, small drops of sweet sweet sweat running down the valley of your perfect round tits that went up and down with your every move. He was enchanted by it all, this was something that he had dreamt and imagined countless times, but nothing compared to the real deal.

He gave up trying to not touch himself, and he started to unbutton his pants hurriedly reaching his hardened dick and as you came closer and closer to your climax so did he. He didn’t feel shame, he felt closer to her, as if his hands were the ones grabbing her, his body the one loving her, his cock the one pleasing her.

When he came undone, he stepped away from the doorway, muttering “I wish that I had Mattheo’s girl”, passing a resigned hand over his face.

The next morning he felt outrageously ill, inflamed with an unadulterated jealousy seeing your naked form, covered with the white sheets of his best friend’s bed, but mostly covered by his best friend’s embrace. He just couldn’t wrap his head around how unfair was the fact that the bastard could wake up to your beautiful goddess like body in his arms, his face next to your angelic one. He should have been the one, he should have been the one having you.

You know, I wish that I had

Mattheo's girl

I wish that I had Mattheo's girl

Where can I find a woman like that?

Theo in an attempt to be rational had decided to give other girls a try, certainly he would find what he saw in you in someone else, right?

Wrong!

He couldn’t keep count of how many boring chats, meaningless one night stands, and dates he had endured trying to find someone like you.

He definitely remembered when that realization hit, that simply no one could compare.

Double date, Hogsmeade, Theo, girl n.17, Mattheo, you. Splendidly suggested by his very best mate in question.

12th of November

Just like any other Saturday a trip to Hogsmeade was planned, and the group of boys were all getting ready in their shared dorm.

“Guys which should I wear for my date with y/n? Green or grey?” Mattheo asked turning toward the others holding up two sweaters. “Dude whatever, it’s not like it’s your first date” Draco answered him annoyed with his friend that couldn’t for the life of him spend some time alone with his friends anymore, Theo couldn’t blame him though. He knew that if he ever had someone like you, he too would exploit every single second to be around you, not wasting anytime with anyone else. Exactly the opposite of what his plans were for this not-so-exciting evening. “I heard someone else here is going on a first date? Or should I say hundredth, huh lover boy?” Enzo raised his eyebrows mimicking a kiss aimed at Theo, who threw him a pillow to shut him up. “Yeah mate what’s up with this slut era of yours? You’re trying to catch an std or sum?” Blaise asked him giving him a nasty side eye “I just give the ladies some sugar, you know, there’s enough for everyone” Theo smirked, trying to conceal his cringed reaction to what he had just said. And mostly trying to hide the unbearable truth, that you were no some girl. You were Y/n, unique, funny, charming, genuine, his sweet forbidden fruit.

He tuned the guys out, not caring in the least of what they had to say about his unconventional DonGiovanni’s lifestyle, to think about you just like he always did. What brought him back to reality was the same thing that took him away in the first place. Y/n. As soon as he heard your name his head shot up, his stare that was lost on the wall in front of him focused once more on his friends.

“Huh?” “Why don’t you and your girl hang with us? Like a double date?” Mattheo suggested finally having settled on the grey sweater, “Why?” Theo let that out with a baffled expression, doubting this could ever be a good idea. He himself knew that he wouldn’t have resisted being in the same room with Mattheo always touching and kissing you. And he definitely knew that the poor girl he brought along would be discarded the very instant that his eyes found you, because wherever you were so was his undivided attention.

But then he thought again, still convinced that he could find a replacement for you, someone else that could steal his heart from you after you had done that to him yourself. He thought that the best way to know if this girl could take your place was for her to show him, with you there, that she was a fair opponent. As Mattheo rambled about giving him an example of what true love should look like and yada yada, Theo just shrugged and agreed.

In hindsight he couldn’t have been more wrong, or maybe he was right, when he had first thought that the girl would have been discarded, and that he wouldn’t have notice any other person as long as you were there.

But there he was, sat at a very small table at madam Puddifoot’s tea shop, regretting his every choice, with a very plain and awkward ravenclaw girl by his side, and in front of him the awfully cutesy couple seemingly having a staring contest.

The poor girl, Vic or something, was trying to make small talk and each time Theo just mumbled something in return. You on the other hand were always so nice and entertaining, not wanting her to feel left out you talked about every possible topic.

I'll play along with the charade

There doesn't seem to be a reason to change

You know, I feel so dirty when they start talking cute

I wanna tell her that I love her, but the point is probably moot.

But even though he knew it didn’t make sense, none of it made sense, him being there, him being there with that girl, he decided to just keep up with whatever this seemed to be. So for the rest of the evening he tried to be as charming as one should be on a first date, subtly trying to make you laugh more than he made her, and more than Mattheo made you. Being slightly arrogant about his advanced potions’ skills, his good grades, his quidditch wins and this sort of things.

And despite his real attempt to woo the girl just for the façade’s sake, as if for some cruel divine joke he seemed to have way more chemistry with you. Indeed you laughed at his stupid jokes, you didn’t stand back on an exchange of witty and cunning banter, and at one point you even completed one of his sentences. He felt like he was going to die if he had to keep faking this misplaced interest for just one second longer, until he looked at you, really looked at you. Nearly fused with Mattheo, holding one of his hands while his other was under your sweater. Exchanging sweet nothings at the same time you were talking to him. And Theo, who wasn’t a stranger to this scene, still felt like he was about to crash out, blinded by the infamous green eyed monster, and just like on the night of Halloween he felt dirty. This was one of those epiphanic moments in which he regained lucidity, disgusted with his behavior.

He did truly feel like shit. How could he not? His best friend’s girl? It was seriously the least loyal thing that he could think of, it was the first rule of bro code. Goddamn, it was a commandment.

But he loved you. His heart ached for you, every smile you directed to him, every word, every nod, every acknowledgment from you got him completely drunk.

And in these very rare lucid moments he felt ashamed, a sinner. Besides, most of the time it all felt right, it was right to be selfish, it made sense, just like it would have if he finally told you. Because there was nothing that he wanted more than to break free from the heavy chains of this secret and confess.

In those few, clear moments, he sobered up, and kept realizing that it would have been irrational and mostly vain. Because you loved Mattheo. And he couldn’t do anything to stop that.

Cause she's watching him with those eyes

And she's loving him with that body, I just know it

And he's holding her in his arms late, late at night

You know, I wish that I had

Mattheo’s girl.

The date ended, and so did Theo’s hopes on encountering someone like you. And with them died also the dreams of a reciprocation of his feelings. Just like they did every damn time he saw your shiny eyes looking at his best mate. There was no point. He could just surrender to his impossible love and move on eventually, while having to stand there and watch every kiss, every lingering touch, every form of pda the world knew.

He found peace only at night, when he dreamt of you and him together, doing all the things he had seen you do with him.

And I'm looking in the mirror all the time

Wonderin' what she don't see in me

I've been funny, I've been cool with the lines

Ain't that the way love's supposed to be?

Tell me, where can I find a woman like that?

You know, I wish that I had

Mattheo's girl

What Theo really just didn’t understand was what could he possibly have less than him, people had always told them how similar they were, did Mattheo become all of a sudden the better version? No, impossible. Theo searched for the answers in the mirror, trying to think of what he didn’t have that Matt did. Sure, he was more muscular, but that had never meant that he wasn’t just as strong.

Was his personality the problem? It couldn’t! No, because whenever you spoke to each other you seemed so at ease, you seemed like you were aware of the flick of fire that lit between the two of you.

24th of November

Theo had just come back from the library to his dorm, thinking he’d be alone, he dived on his messy unmade bed hoping to rest his poor head filled with tangled thoughts that were all screaming your name.

“Rough day?” he gasped, nearly falling out of the bed “Oh dear Merlin, you scared me” he said holding his chest with one hand, and his forehead with the other one. “Scared of a little company, aren’t you Theo?” “You don’t know just how much” he answered you completely honest, though you didn’t know he wasn’t joking.

“So w- what are you doing here? Waiting for Mattheo?” he asked, truly regretting the last part, and having to say it out loud. “Not really, but since he gave me the password to the common room, I figured why not?” “So you do spend time apart? I wasn’t aware” he faked a surprised expression and made you laugh “Well, you know sometimes it all just feels like a lot, I mean…” you tried to make sense without sounding mean “are you trying to say that he’s too much?”. “No, no please Theo, come on I didn’t mean it like that” Theo was snickering, feeling somewhat relieved that it was too much even for you. “You know what I mean, like I love him, truly” you said and Theo’s smile faltered for a beat, then came back normal as if his heart hadn’t just been wounded by what you said to him. “But we just might spend too much time together, and like I said, I love him but I love my own personal space too”. “Well i don’t blame him” he said “it’s easy to get lost in time when you’re with someone like you” he let out this risky statement testing you, trying to see your reaction. Your cheeks welcomed a burning pink tint on them, and you looked down at your feet lightly smiling “Someone like me?” you looked back up at him with a challenging glance “yeah, someone effortlessly fun” “and what else?” “I’m sorry I can’t come up with another lie” he said smirking at you. You suddenly got up to your feet, went up to him and pushed him. “Fuck off Theo” you told him laughing “Someone who can take a joke definitely” he said trying to keep his cool after feeling your touch, “Ah, ah, ah. And here I was thinking you liked me!” you feigned an insulted face “I don’t like you…” he said seriously now. You stood there still, in front of him, the heat returned to hit you in your face.

That was it. He knew and he firmly believed you knew it too. He was gonna say it, he extended his arm and gently took your hand “No, I-“ “Y/n babe are you in here?”. You took back your hand, and went to your boyfriend as fast as you could.

-Of course- Theo thought to himself, who else could interrupt his one chance to finally tell you, if not your stupid boyfriend. “Oh dude hi, kept her company I hope?” “Yeah well I was just about to leave, bye Matt” and then he looked at you, who were now in his friend’s arms, like every damn time. Your eyes met his “bye y/n”.

His cards were now on the table, and maybe for this reason or for his undeniable guilt, that was the last thing he had told you. The feelings were still there, but so were yours, even if he genuinely had believed that he saw something in your eyes in that moment.

The truth was that there was something, there were those sparkles, the same Mattheo had when watching you. You just couldn’t admit it out loud, and now Theo had started to completely ignore you, so there was no point in trying to understand what was that you felt, no because you were always Mattheo’s girl.

#slytherin boys #theo nott #slytherin boys x reader #theo nott x reader #theodore nott #theodore nott x you #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x reader #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott imagine #harry potter

312 notes · View notes

yoiisa · 22 days ago

Text

COME ON, COME ON ⋆˙⟡ BACHIRA MEGURU

"In the middle of the night, when I'm in this dream, It's like a million little stars spelling out your name, You gotta come on, come on, Say that we'll be together, Come on, come on, Little taste of heaven" - "Untouchable" by Taylor Swift Tags: FLUFFY! A little bit of hurt (mentions of Bachira being bullied but nothing explicit) with a lot of comfort! Bullied! Bachira X Popular Kid! Reader. Not proofread.

a/n: hey y'all! I just rewatched s1 of BLLK, and it reminded me how precious Bachira is w/ his backstory ^_^ . I wanted to write a cute little story for him, which I think will be a recurring thing on my account, where I'll write stories for BLLK characters based on my fav T Swift songs from each album!! Fearless is up first!

Bachira lay curled up on the floor for at least an hour after everyone had left. The alley between the two school buildings is particularly useful in practicing head butts with his soccer ball, but it is also conveniently shady enough that his bullies had no trouble cornering him there and beating the shit out of him regularly.

He slowly sits up, his shoulder aching. His face is all scratched up and his lip is split. Fuck, how would he explain this to his mom? She'd promised the school hell last time he came home like this but she was struggling enough on her own. A single mother, an artist to boot, threatening a school like his? Forget it.

"Fuck," Bachira mutters, cradling his head in his hands as tears leak down his cheeks. "Fuck."

"Oh my god," a voice croaks a few feet away from him. Bachira looks up to find a figure standing there, their eyes wide in horror, a hand clasped over their mouth, and their body shaking. "A-are you okay?"

They rush towards him and he flinches back. At his jerk, the stranger stops. Bachira holds their gaze. After a beat of silence, they reach into their pocket and take out a handkerchief.

"Here," they say softly. They approach him slowly now and kneel at his side, extending the cotton square to him. Bachira blinks down at it, his expression dull.

"For me?" he asks.

"Your lip is all bloody. You should use this to clean yourself up and then go to the nurse!" you exclaim.

Bachira gives you a soft smile and takes the handkerchief from your hand. "That old lady has already seen me too many times this year. I'll just hide out in the bathroom until it gets . . . better. Is it really bad?"

You feel kinda bad nodding, but he really looks rough. He laughs softly at your nod and shakes his head. "Whatever, thank you for the handkerchief."

Bachira stands to walk away, but you gently take a hold of his wrist before he makes it very far. "Wait! What happened?"

Bachira turns back to you, his round eyes wide at your touch. Your hand is soft, and cradles his wrist tenderly, as if you believe the touch will make yet another bruise blossom on his skin. Another beat of silence passes before he asks, "What do you think, Y/N?"

You balk. "How do you know my name?"

"We're in the same class."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

Bachira scoffs and a humorless smiles appears on his face. Of course they don't know him. They're friends with the kids who did this to him. He attempts to tug his hand out of their grasp again, but he's ultimately unsuccessful when your grip holds fast.

"Wait- I do know you! You're the one who's really good at soccer!" your face breaks into a small smile, and something aches in Bachira's chest. It's been so long since someone who wasn't his mother smiled at him with anything other than malice. When you ask, "You're name is Bachira Meguru right?" Bachira swears the floor gives out under him.

" . . . is this a joke?" he asks.

There's a bit of annoyed wariness in his voice, but ultimately, the only thing you get from the question is fear. The idea that someone is scared of you makes you feel incredibly upset. Since you were eight years old, you'd prided yourself on being the people person, and inviting everyone to be your friend. You'd been with people who were shy before, but never with someone scared. Bachira's fear was almost palpable in his eyes, his pupils tiny and assessing your every move. It's beyond sad.

"That's an awfully mean thing to do, isn't it?" you say as you rise. "I'm not a mean person."

"But your friends are, so think again. What does that make you?" Bachira says softly as he walks away.

Once again, you're left stunned and shaken by this kid. What the hell? No, it couldn't have been your friends who did this to him. They were good people! Yeah they might've laughed behind people's backs every now and then, and make the occasional crude remark, but-

Holy shit, your friends are douches.

You shake your head and hurry after Bachira, your hand going to his bicep. He turns again and stares at you with a surprised expression, as you say, "Please. Let me at least walk you to the nurse's office. You took a real beating."

" . . . fine."

The trip is a silent affair, with a thin blanket of tension hanging over you. The two of you pass your classroom on the way, and you catch your friends giving you odd looks while you walk with Bachira.

One of the guys in your group, a boy named Mori Hinata mouths What are you doing?

You turn your face away and continue with Bachira to the nurse's office.

You sit next to him on a cot while the nurse gets her equipment.

"He has a crush on you," Bachira says suddenly.

"Huh? Who?" you ask.

"Mori. He was talking about it while he was . . . y'know."

" . . . I didn't know."

Bachira cuts you a shocked look. "Really?"

"I don't know! I guess . . . I guess I always had a feeling, but it was never anything super concrete. He's super mean to me too, just not," You look up at Bachira and sigh. "Physically."

"Must be nice," Bachira smiles and laughs.

Your brows furrow. "I don't want someone like him to have a crush on me. I don't want someone who's capable of this," I gesture to Bachira's injuries, "to like me."

"No? He can protect you though," Bachira flexes his bicep and puts on a goofy face. "Like Hey, stay away from my girl, you prick. Something like that, you know?"

I snort. "Still. He's a bully. I guess I was blinded by knowing him for so long. I . . . I didn't want to believe he could do something like this."

"Well, technically he didn't touch me. He just got Saito and Nishikawa to do it."

"Still! That doesn't make it any better!" You sigh and rest your chin in your hand. "I don't even want to be friends with him anymore . . ."

Bachira chuckles. "I don't think it'll go well for me, if he finds out I'm the reason you're ignoring him."

You whip you're head in his direction. "If he, Saito, or Nishikawa touch you again, tell me I'll deal with it."

"Really?"

"I have no issue yelling at ex-friends."

Bachira blinks as he watches your determined expression. "But, you'll be lonely."

"Hmm?"

Bachira turns away from you, a sour expression on his face. He stares down at his hands, flexing his fingers. After a moment of him thinking, he whispers, "I don't want to cause someone else to be lonely. I am, and it's the worst."

You stare at Bachira, your heart aching. After a moment of silence, you reach up and tuck a strand of loose brown hair behind his ear, revealing some of his under dye. He turns a furious shade of rose and turns his head to face you. You meet his honey eyes before smiling and looking down at your lap.

"Do you remember when they taught us about penguins as kids? Like, why they huddle up?" Bachira tilts his head in confusion before nodding. You giggle and continue. "It's cause of the cold, right? If they don't huddle up together, they'll freeze. Well, up until around second grade, I was super shy. I would sit at my desk and doodle on the wood while watching everyone form groups. I felt like a penguin that was freezing, since everyone around me was huddling up together.

"I used to pray to stars at night, begging them to keep me from freezing to death. I'd sit on my knees with my hands clasped like this, whispering C'mon, c'mon. Send someone my way. Eventually someone did show up, Mori, and he whisked me away with him to huddle in his group. It was nice to be warm but now I see the truth."

I look up at Bachira. "If he wasn't willing to invite you into his huddle, he doesn't really care about keeping people warm. That isn't someone I want to be around. I want to keep you warm though, so I'll have you if I leave the huddle right? I won't be lonely, right?"

The look on Bachira's face is precious. His eyes are bright, his face flushed, and his aura just glows. He looks five years old, fresh and new to the world, and totally unaware of the dangers that lurk just beyond the door. For his whole life, he'd thought of something like this as entirely unattainable, but now you're sitting here across from him, promising to keep him warm. It's too much. It's so much.

Without warning, he flings himself onto you, wrapping you in a tight hug and you have to lower yourself onto the cot in order to not fall flat onto the floor. He pulls back a little bit, and his cheeks are puffed as a smile carves itself on his face.

"Woah! Bachira!"

"You're an angel right?" he asks, his smile bright. "A guardian angel? No, that's too little. You're a piece of heaven itself."

You blush and giggle. "What? No, stop . . ."

Bachira shakes his head and laughs. It's a bright sound, like bells. It reminds you of birds chirping and the sound of a newborn's first laugh. It's enchanting.

"I'll keep you warm," Bachira promises. "I'll never leave you out in the cold! I swear! Me and my monster got you, no matter what?"

His what-

Your thoughts get cut off when he lowers himself on you again, losing himself in the warmth of your embrace. You shake your head as a smile also grows on your face. You wrap your arms around Bachira as well and nuzzle into his neck.

"Me too."

--------------------------------------

"Y/N~" Bachira coos as he wraps his arms around your waist. "You're so busy, you're not paying any attention to me."

You giggle and kiss his cheek. I lower my water bottle and turn to kiss his cheek. "You're so impatient."

"Come on~" he whines. "You promised me we'd get insta-ramen and mangas after school today."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming."

You pick up your duffle bag and swing it over your shoulder. However, Bachira takes it from your hand and bears the load himself. He links his free hand with yours and lifts it to his mouth, pressing kisses along the knuckles.

A chill rushes through the air, winter rudely announcing her presence. You shiver and Bachira immediately drops your duffle to the floor. He takes his scarf off and promptly weaves it around your neck, securing it with a firm tuck.

"You'll get sick," you pout.

"I promised to keep you warm, and I will," Bachira responds firmly. "Besides, you can keep me warm then, when I'm sneezing and coughing-"

"And are gross?" you ask, quirking an eyebrow.

Bachira giggles. "Exactly."

He picks up your duffle bag again, and the two of you continue your walk out of the school gates, the penguin key chains you got dangling from the zipper.

#bachira x reader #bachira meguru #bllk #blue lock #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #bachira meguru x reader #bllk fluff #blue lock fluff #bllk x you #blue lock x you

115 notes · View notes

maelstrom007 · 4 months ago

Text

@ghouljams the worms are worming. . . I was listening to Depeche Mode today and Personal Jesus reminded me of your cult leader Price AU and it just has a death grip in my brain. . . All I could think of the whole song was Price manspreading in a chair with Ghost, Soap, and Gaz posed around him in dramatic backlighting, doing his biding to keep his cult in check.

Price is obviously cult leader, we get it, we know it, he's so charismatic and clever and manipulative and influential we know we know we know.

Thinking of what the other boys roles would be in this whole thing though. . .

Gaz is definitely the person on the outside clocking discontented people and setting in hooks. Absolutely gorgeous man, charismatic as fuck, endearing and non-threatening (at first glance), such blinding loyalty that he is able to see and interact with the outside world and not be tempted to leave. This simultaneously makes him adjusted enough to 'normal' life that he gives off very little red flags when inviting people in. He's also the person who befriends the new follower and makes sure that they're only seeing what they're supposed to, and vetting if they'd be impressionable enough to add to the flock. Testing their resistance to peer pressure, vetting them and making sure they're impressionable enough.

Soap is the listening ear on the inside. His job is to ingratiate himself amongst the followers and report any findings to Price, both good and bad. So not only is he keeping an eye out for disloyalty, plans to leave, discontent, etc. but he's also looking out for personal things like lost personal possessions, low stakes concerns, anything that Price can use to give individuals 'personal' time with him that makes him seem attentive or even slightly omniscient to the more spiritual followers.

Ghost's job is really to be that of a smoke screen. He is very visibly Price's 'right hand man', outwardly intimidating and such a hard ass on rule following that he acts as a force pushing followers to the sphere of Gaz and Soap. Because they couldn't be that close to Price, right? No one but Ghost is. So surely they're safe talking about their doubts and confusion, as long as Ghost is out of earshot. I feel like he also makes Price more valuable by making him more unobtainable. Unless Price comes to you, you need to seek an audience with him through Ghost. And 99% of the time even if you do get to see Price, Ghost will be there. At least that's what people say anyway. Price definitely isn't telling everyone that he's 'made an exception just for them' and that 'this'll be a secret between the two of them'. Definitely not.

I have this notion that it would be one of those self sufficiency communes that has their own internal ecosystem, growing their own food, making their own clothes, etc etc. They would send the well behaved followers to set up a stall at the nearby towns farmers market to keep up appearances and make sure that nobody in the town really bothers them. Who gives a shit what the group of farmers in the middle of nowhere are doing when their produce costs next to nothing and tastes divine? Maybe they should go out there some time and see what it's like. . .maybe learn how to take care of a plant or two of their own? And you've always wanted to learn how to do pottery, the cute guy on the corner says they're hosting a class this weekend. . . . . . . . . .

#mw2 #mwii #cod #price #ghost #soap #gaz #john price #simon ghost riley #simon riley #john soap mactavish #john mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #tf 141 #cult au

186 notes · View notes

pretty-blkgirl · 1 year ago

Note

It’s probably a stupid idea but imagine your at a Stray Kids concert, and your front row with your friends. Chan comes close to the edge on stage near you and winks to you. You think nothing of it because like he does that to everyone. But at the end of the concert he slips you a piece of paper with 1 single sentence. “After the concert, go to Hotel Grande and go to room B6.” You decide to go bc why not and you expect maybe Chan there or something but all of them are there, and they all are really horny. They always talk about wanting to date someone who knows nothing about stray kids but what if Stays are the ones who turn them on. Fem reader

Say Yes [Part One]

//fem!reader x 0t8!Skz//

Synopsis: You get slipped a note from your favorite idol to meet him at his hotel room, but he’s not the only one there

Genre: smut/suggestive, crack, fluff

Warnings: sexual situations, reader uses she/her pronouns

A/N: thank you @seoyeonleexoxo for the requestttt 🫶🏾

~~~~|~~~~

It was your first Stray Kids concert. Two straight years of saving up every spare dollar you had and camping out on Twitter for ticket sales finally paid off. Not only did you secure your tickets, but you and your friends got the front row- something you dreamed about since you started becoming a fan of Stray Kids.

You were beyond excited to see every member, but your bias -Bang Chan- was the one you were dreaming about. You know how he likes to flirt with stays, and you being in the front row meant you had a good chance at being noticed.

Hyunjin asked for stays to wear blue to the show, so you chose a solid baby blue romper that showed off every curve that you had. Your hair was out in wild, big curls and you chose simple silver jewelry.

The concert started with “Hall of Fame,” and you wasted no time in screaming your head off when the boys came into view.

The entire thing felt like a dream, and you got light-headed whenever a member got close to you. Sometime during Cheese, Chan came to your section to wave at Stays. You smiled so hard your cheeks hurt as you waved aggressively at him. He saw you and wasn’t shy about the quick once-over he gave you, then he winked before moving on to interact with other fans.

Your knees felt wobbly, and you could feel the way your friends stared at you after that interaction.

“Did he just wink at you?” Mia, the friend you’ve known since childhood asked.

“I think so,” you say, “Or maybe it was someone behind me?”

You turn around to see a good chunk of people looking right back at you. Some are envious and some curious, but all confirm the fact that Bang Chan just winked at you.

“He wants you girl” Tianna, your best friend since middle school, teases. You can’t help but roll your eyes once the boys go backstage to change. The lights in the stadium come on as you look to the screens to see the Stay games starting.

The first game has stays copy the boys' poses, you and your friends laugh as flustered fans appear on screen. Soon enough, the next game starts, a game where stays must do the choreography to random Skz songs.

This is the part of the concert you weren’t looking forward to, so you duck your head and try to stay clear of any cameramen. Some people scream and wave their arms to be put on screen, and you can only hope they get picked as the laughing staff goes to pick out people.

After three people dance to Gods Menu, Maniac, and Thunderous, you start to relax and enjoy the game. The last song, S-Class, comes up and you and your friends dance along to the practice video shown. After they show the video, you find yourself on screen smiling before pure terror graces your face.

You can’t even hear what the members are saying to you before your friends urge you to dance.

Did you do the choreography correctly? No. Were your friends dying laughing the entire time? Yes.

“Good job” You hear Han’s unmistakable voice say, “You’re so cool”

“And pretty” Felix’s deep voice continues before your face is replaced with the regular Skz logo

“Oooooh” Tianna teases, “You’re cool AND pretty? I’m jealous”

“You got three members fighting over you” Mia exclaims

“Hush” You stress, feeling glares on you, “It’s just fan service”

Tianna rolls her eyes, “Usually fan service involves all the fans”

The lights in the place dim, signaling the group is about to come back on stage. The glares you feel cease as the people around you start to scream their heads off

“Not all the time” you manage to say before the show continues.

In all honesty, you had a great time at the concert. The boys came over to your section a lot, especially Chan.

You didn’t want to believe he was making eye contact with you, and only you. However, it was hard to ignore the obvious looks he kept throwing your way. After a while, you began to count the amount of times his eyes found you in the audience; 25 times.

In a room full of thousands of people, how did he manage to look at you so many times? All your most delusional fantasies came to mind, thoughts that reminded you of when you first started to become a fan.

Cute thoughts of walking down the aisle with a member, some cute dates, and even a passing thought of a family. Just niche little things that crossed your mind as you fell more and more in love with the group.

Then there were the not-too-wholesome thoughts, the ones where you’re usually crying and begging to reach your release after hours upon hours of edging. These thoughts kept you up at night and usually involved more than one member.

You suddenly felt so dirty. Thinking about your idols in such a way while they throw kisses at the fans on the stage in front of you. You barely notice the lights come on and people start to leave the venue.

“That was so good” Tianna gushed, looking at you with a playful expression on her face. You knew the walk back to your hotel would be filled with your friends only reaffirming your delusions.

“I’m jealous y/n. I’d love to have Bang Chan eye-fucking me all night long” Mia said, making your face heat up.

You three walked out of the building and joined a crowd of fans waiting for the boys’ cars to leave the stadium.

“What if Chan comes out of the car and confesses his love for you?” Tianna teases

Mia giggles hysterically as the two continue with their joking, not paying attention as you’re flagged down by what looks to be a security guard.

“Is he asking me to come over there?” You ask your friends, making them stop and look at the staff.

“Looks like it” Tianna shrugs, “I think he was the security guard over by our section. Maybe you dropped something?”

You nod and jog over to the guard, looking back at your friends just to make sure they’re keeping an eye on you.

“Hello,” You say politely, “Can I help you?”

“You dropped this,” The guard says, handing you a mini quokka plushie that you’re only now noticing isn’t in your jacket pocket.

“Thank you so much!” You say, taking the plushie and beginning to walk off, that is until he grabs your attention again.

“I was asked to give this to you as well,” He says, handing you a rather thick envelope, “Put it in your pocket”

Before you can question it, he bows and walks off to where the other staff stands.

With your brain on autopilot, you stuff the envelope in your pocket and go back to your friends.

Mia wastes no time in asking what happened, and you tell them he gave you back your stuffed animal.

For whatever reason, you fail to mention the envelope in your pocket, and you silently celebrate when Tianna suddenly exclaims her stomach hurts and she wants to go back to the hotel.

The walk back is short, and you’re grateful that you all invested in your rooms.

The first thing you do is take out the envelope and open it. You see two folded pieces of paper.

One of them is a picture, one of the group that you’ve never seen before. It’s signed, and you instinctively look on the back and is surprised to see a message

“Go to the Hotel Grande, second floor, room B6, knock 4 times."

Already taken aback, you look at the other piece of paper to find an NDA.

“Oh my God” you whisper, quickly pulling out your phone to search the directions of the hotel. Only a 10-minute drive.

“This could be a trick,” You think out loud, “What if I get hurt?”

The rational side of you is urging you to think about the consequences of showing up to a random hotel, but the wild and unpredictable side of you quickly orders yourself an Uber and touches up your makeup.

556 notes · View notes

mirai-e-jump · 9 days ago

Text

Dengeki Tokusatsu Tsushin Vol.3 (Summer/2000) FACE UP!! 2000 SPECIAL ft. Odagiri Joe x Katsurayama Shingo (translations below)

Publication: August 20, 2000

FACE UP!! (Free Talk Segments)

Odagiri Joe

I've loved movies ever since I was a child, and never thought about doing work outside of the film industry. When I became a high school student, I had other things I wanted to do, but they were all related to foreign countries. Something like a translator, or a Japanese language teacher in a foreign country. Still, at my core, I wanted to study something in relation to film. So, I looked into various schools, and found that the California State University in Fresno made the most sense to me. In my head, I had the idea that movies were made in Hollywood, so along with there being few Japanese people there, this place would be close to Hollywood. When I was deciding on my major, "Drama" caught my eye. What came to mind from Drama was "TV dramas," so I decided to "go with that." However, it turned out to be a major related to theater (laughs).

While studying abroad, my first exposure to acting was when I helped out behind the scenes for their quarterly theater performance. I also took an acting class, but it wasn't until I returned to Japan that I began to seriously study acting. When I was over there, I was essentially a blank slate, so it felt like I didn't know what was going on (laughs).

During one of my acting classes, we were told, "This is outer space, so swim freely." We spacewalked the whole lesson (laughs). I thought it was a truly American styled class. At the time, I was full of wonder, as I was curious on how this would relate to acting. I was the only foreigner in my class. I wasn't the type to go out of my way to join in with the others, and was always the "straggler" of the class (laughs). Having the English skills of an exchange student, performing Shakespeare, a classic of Western literature, was a challenge in itself, and there were times when I was considerably depressed. Still, in the end, all those hardships became my passion for acting, and the experience I gained over there was an invaluable asset.

I played drums in a band during middle and high school. There were times when I played in about eight bands at once. Because of that, the music I covered was all over the place. It'd be anything from X to The Beatles (laughs). When I was in America, alternative music was popular, so I'd listen to groups like Smashing Pumpkins, Beck, Cake, and Bjork. If I had to pick one of my favorite musicians, it would be Tom Waits. Still, I also listen to Japanese music. The first album I ever bought was by The Timers. That's why I still like Imawano Kiyoshiro-san. I even covered his music in one of my bands. I also like Frank Zappa, Stan Getz, The Lounge Lizards, The Velvet Underground, James Brown, among others, so I listen to a really wide range of music. It depends on how my mood is on a given day. It probably seems like I have a large number of CDs when I say this, but I don't have that many. Although, I've never counted. On average, I think I buy about four a month. When I return home, I put on music or play a movie tape. I always feel that there's some kind of noise in the room. However, only when I'm writing for "Monthly Odagiri" is it quiet (laughs).

Karaoke? I go. In terms of the type of vocals I have, I'm close to Original Love. I've also sung songs by Oasis and Michelle Gun Elephant, as they put importance on excitement. I'll also sing songs by UA, Bird, and Sheena Ringo too. I prefer songs by women that are cool when sung by men. For women, I want to sing songs by Pizzicato Five and CHARA when I’m in a good mood (laughs).

What am I into currently? Food crawling (laughs). I eat alot. I always eat two bentos when we're on location. My favorite food is noodles. Ah, I'll never forget the Vietnamese ramen I used to eat when I was in America, I'm pretty sure it was called "pho." I've never found it in Japan. It has certain herbs in it, so you'll either like it or you won't, but I was addicted to it. I don't dislike anything. Even if it's weird looking, I'll probably eat it out of curiosity (laughs).

Since I'm usually busy, I try to meet up with friends on my days off. The other day, I walked home from Shinjuku with a friend who lives in Daitabashi. It took about three hours. I actually like walking (laughs). This is why I haven't seen any movies from over here in awhile. When I was working part time at a rental store, I used to watch tons of movies for free (laughs). My favorite movie is Jim Jarmusch's "Down by Law." I like alot of Jarmusch's films. "Stranger Than Paradise" and "Dead Man"…I especially like those with black and white footage. Another recent favorite is "Buffalo 66." My American friend sent me the tape and I watched it multiple times. I think films that put importance on the atmosphere and the mood, as well as the idea, are more interesting than films that spend an excessive amount of money on production. I also watch Japanese films. I thought "Sonatine" was good. It's somewhat of an obscure film among Kitano Takeshi-san's works though. As for actors, I really love Steve Buscemi, who appeared in the film "In the Soup." I want to become an actor like him, someone who can create their own role and have free rein on the sidelines.

Katsurayama Shingo

In fan letters and on the bulletin board of my website, I'm often told, "I thought you were married." I don't think even I've settled down yet. Even my room is messy. That's why I clean and do laundry on my days off. The day before a holiday, I'll go out for a drink, and do two loads of laundry in the afternoon (laughs). I'm not a strong drinker. I'm the type where it shows on my face right away. I also like karaoke. When I've had a long day at work, I'll go to karaoke and sing to refresh myself. If I have the next day off, I sometimes sing until morning.

I'll sing anything, but I like Ozaki Yutaka-san. I think my vocals fit his songs fairly well. I like ballads that I can sing with ease~. For Ozaki-san, it would be his song "forget me not." It's not just singing, as I've been listening to Ozaki-san since I was in middle school. I'm pretty sure the first album I bought was his "SEVENTEEN'S MAP." I was in shock when he passed away. I had met him once before. We met backstage at a concert, where he told me, "Next year, I'm going on tour and releasing an album, so come see me," but then he passed away around the beginning of that year.

I used to sing not only ballads, but also up tempo songs where I'd go wild, but as you can see, I've settled down now, I think (laughs). I suppose this is simply an age related change. Recently, I've felt these kinds of changes in alot of places. It's the same with my food preferences. I used to be very picky with what I liked and disliked. It was almost as if I ate nothing but meat and rice. But now, I'll often eat simple fish dishes. I used to be a vegetable hater, but I'm slowly getting better at eating them. However, eating tomatoes is still a no go (laughs). My favorite food is white rice. Even when eating out, the restaurant has to be one that serves rice. When I find an izakaya that serves rice, I'm like, "Uwah! I've found it!" From there, I'll stick to that place for awhile.

I like cars, so I'll often go out in one. As you can imagine, I've been too busy to go out these days. Ah, but during this year's Golden Week, I had some time off, so I had a barbecue at a riverbed near my parents house. What's more, going back to my parents house may have been just the right drive I needed (laughs).

When I first moved to Tokyo, I thought about trying a highway that I'd never been on before, so I once raced across the Kanetsu Expressway during winter. I ended up at a ski resort in Yuzawa. However, since I went there in my casual clothes, I just said, "What a gorgeous view," and then went back home (laughs).

To be honest, I tend to go on random trips without reserving a stay at an inn or hotel. One time, I was driving alone and gradually felt like taking a bath. I arrived at a public bathhouse, and after taking a bath, I laid down in the tatami room used for breaks since there were no other customers there. When I woke up, I saw a girl in a short skirt walking past me and thought, "What a nice view." After a moment, I took a closer look around and saw that it was packed with customers (laughs). I was surprised and thought, "I really fell asleep in a place like this, huh?"

There are still many parts of me that are perceived for my visuals, rather than as an actor. If I don't surpass that, I won't be able to move forward as an actor, and the viewers will get bored with me too. That's why I'm very interested in taking on different roles from the one I'm playing right now. I'd like to be able to mix my own playful side with the role I present in my performance so that the human qualities of an actor can come pouring out.

For that reason, work is important, but on the other hand, I think it's also important to have fun and connect with a variety of people. From now on, I'd personally like to continue having fun with friends around my age, like companions. While I have alot of memories from my school years, once you enter the workforce, your friends go their separate ways and you get together less often. Until now, I've often jumped into the lives of people older than me, so at this point, I think I'd like to value interesting friends of the same age. Besides, when you're the same age, you can't compromise. In spite of that, it makes me feel like, "I can't lose," but in a good way. Not just for acting, but also for what I want to do, and how far I'll pursue it. I'm the spoiled type, so I'd like to receive more stimulation like that. Being with good friends is the most fun, don't you think? _

Odagiri Joe VS Katsurayama Shingo

Odagiri: The first time I saw Katsurayama-san, I thought, "Ah, he's gotta be an actor." He's got a good looking face and figure.

Katsurayama: You've done nothing but compliment me as of late (laughs).

Odagiri: I really have.

Katsurayama: My first impression of Odagiri-kun is pretty much the same as it is now. I guess you could say that he acts as his regular self. When I enter a new set, I tend to become nervous and it shows. Odagiri-kun may be nervous, but I can't really see it at all.

Odagiri: I just do things at my own pace (laughs).

Katsurayama: I also thought that during the script reading. When I heard your first line, I thought it was so natural.

Odagiri: What line was that?

Katsurayama: I'm pretty sure it was when you were taking care of the lost child at the airport in the first episode.

Odagiri: That was the first one, wasn't it? When I talked with Katsurayama-san during the reading, I thought he was a serious and hardworking person. As for me, Kuuga was the first time in my life that I read a script, so I was already overwhelmed.

Katsurayama: I was at my limit too (laughs). Going to a new set for the first time makes me nervous. Also, before I met Odagiri-kun, I had heard that for this Kamen Rider, they were looking for an actor who would play the main role differently from the past, and who would be more like an ordinary big brother than a hero of justice, so I wondered what kind of guy they would get. When I actually met him, I thought, "Ah, I see."

Odagiri: Is that right? Katsurayama-san knows stuff that I don't.

Katsurayama: Even after it was decided that I got the role of Ichijou, I went to the audition for the role of Yusuke.

Odagiri: Does that mean you were looking at the audition through the eyes of Ichijou?

Katsurayama: I…suppose so. I tried to match my lines with the people who came to play Yusuke.

Odagiri: I played the role of Ichijou at my audition. I also played Kameyama. I think they specifically had me do the scene where Ichijou and Yusuke meet for the first time. I did my best to talk at the audition. I'm the kind of person who'll sometimes do crazy things at auditions (laughs).

Katsurayama: I'm the type that can't do anything at an audition and goes home (laughs).

Odagiri: When I went to the auditions, we just rehearsed some scenes. I got thirsty during the rehearsals, so I always purchased a one liter carton of tea. When I brought that with me to the audition, it was directly connected to Yusuke's love of tea (laughs). His juggling setup seemed to have been decided on from the beginning, but when I said "I can do it," it seemed like that was also connected to Yusuke.

Katsurayama: It's a role that was made for Odagiri-kun. It's fate. Things like his clothes are different, but aren't you usually like Yusuke?

Odagiri: Yusuke is the personality that exists within me. It just so happened that the personality I have fell in line with Yusuke. Still, at first, I was worried about how to approach this. Now, I've come to understand that I should explore from within myself.

Katsurayama: I guess there's an Ichijou within me too. It's probably my serious and stubborn side though.

Odagiri: But at drinking parties, Ichijou wouldn’t be the one to make alot of noise, right?

Katsurayama: Yeah? (laughs).

Odagiri: The other day, you passionately sang at karaoke. How long did you end up staying?

Katsurayama: Until around 1 a.m. I think.

Odagiri: Katsurayama-san is talented.

Katsurayama: No, no, that would be you Odagiri-kun.

Odagiri: Uwah, please cut it out (laughs). When I sing, he harmonizes with me.

Katsurayama: I like harmonizing.

Odagiri: The two of us will harmonize songs by groups like the Blue Hearts. That's why Katsurayama-san's usually different from Ichijou's character.

Katsurayama: Even during filming, Ichijou doesn't smile, but there's been many parts where I almost do.

Odagiri: Me on the other hand, I seem to smile too much. Sometimes the staff will tell me, "Don't smile so much." In episode 14, when Yusuke falls into the river and Ichijou-san rushes over to him, there's a scene where I look back at him and smile, but I was told, "You shouldn't look so pleased."

Katsurayama: That must be difficult, huh? (laughs).

Odagiri: It's complicated. It's like I can only do this~ much. If I enjoy my acting too much in an "Odagiri kind of way," I get scolded with, "That's not Yusuke, that's Odagiri" (laughs).

Katsurayama: "That's no good" tends to come out. Still, it also helps us to establish our characters images.

Odagiri: Now that you mention it, we haven't really given each other advice on acting. For me, the Ichijou-san Katsurayama-san plays is like Ichijou-san himself.

Katsurayama: I don't really care one way or another about other people's performances. There are times when we talk about what we should do for scenes where it's just the two of us. I think it'll be more interesting if we can create things that aren't written in the script by ourselves.

Odagiri: The set allows for quite abit of adlibbing, so I'd like to include more of it.

Katsurayama: From Ichijou's point of view, you don't do anything poorly when adlibbing~.

Odagiri: Yeah, that's right. Yusuke does a variety of things depending on the mood of the scene, such as the scenes with Hikari Sensei. Still, it'd be bad if "Odagiri" comes out too much there (laughs). Aside from Ichijou-san and Hikari Sensei, I don't work with the police that much, but I have shot scenes with most of my costars.

Katsurayama: I think all the characters are in a "good friends" situation.

Odagiri: I think it's more friendship than love. Still, I'm sure Ichijou-san has a love story, maybe with someone like Nozomi-san. There are rumors that Nana-chan might become an Ichijou fan too. This makes me sad as Odagiri more than it does as Yusuke (laughs).

Katsurayama: Everyone has their own personality. Both when they're playing their roles and as their normal selves. This is especially true for someone like Oyassan (laughs). When we're together in a scene, I want to laugh with him, but I can't (laughs), because I'm Ichijou.

Odagiri: Oyassan does some interesting things in the test shots right before we shoot for real. It's such a waste since the most interesting parts aren't what's being aired. Speaking of wasteful, there are quite a few scenes that are filmed, but then aren't used.

Katsurayama: There are. The other day, there was a scene where Sugita-san was teaching Nozomi how to brew tea.

Odagiri: Yeah. Sakurai-san was also with them in that scene.

Katsurayama: I guess it all came down to time, but it's a shame that it wasn't aired.

Odagiri: It seems that after much deliberation, the Director reluctantly cut it out.

Katsurayama: It's alittle sad when any of the scenes or takes that I personally wanted to see don't make it in.

Odagiri: Like which ones?

Katsurayama: It's just some small things. I've always liked detective stuff, so I like the parts where the undercover patrol car's lights go off. We filmed it, but when I watched the broadcast, it had been cut. I guess even stuff like that gets cut (laughs). On set, I tried saying something funny like, "How about a slightly silly side of Ichijou's character?" In a scene where he'd be alone, I'd say a joke that wasn't funny. However, it really didn't seem like Ichijou, so I stopped (laughs).

Odagiri: Just as Sugita-san is putting all his energy into a scene that's supposed to be a masterpiece, Ichijou-san will come out of nowhere and "steal" the viewers away (laughs). It's always the same.

Katsurayama: But recently, Sugita-san's been taking over some scenes. Sugita-san's character has developed. In the beginning, Yusuke, Ichijou, and Sakurako were the main three creating the drama, but now, the other actors and staff are rapidly creating the characters, which has made it more interesting for us to watch.

Odagiri: I look forward to it. I feel lonely when there's about a week between filming.

Katsurayama: That reminds me, we went out drinking with Tsubaki-san for abit. I had promised Odagiri-kun that the two of us would go out for drinks together, but then they bumped into each other at a certain station.

Odagiri: Right, right, when I was waiting for the train at the station, Otsuka-san just happened to be standing next to me reading a newspaper. I invited him to join me since I was going out for drinks with Katsurayama-san afterwards. Then, to my surprise, when we got on the train, Nanamori-san was sitting diagonally in front of us (laughs). Otsuka-san and Nanamori-san had never met each other, not even within the show, so I loudly introduced them to each other while on the train.

Katsurayama: It surprised me when I was waiting at the station, as I thought, "Is that the Rose Tattooed Woman over there?" (laughs). Because, not only was it Odagiri-kun, but Nanamori-san and Otsuka-san were also there. I wondered, "Do they have filming today?"

Odagiri: It was a creepy coincidence. Something like that happened not once, but twice.

Katsurayama: You can no longer say, "There's no way I'll encounter them."

Odagiri: Speaking of which, the other day the two of us went out to buy a computer, and right next to me was a child saying, "No, that's Pegasus Form!," but he didn't notice us at all.

Katsurayama: Odagiri-kun's appearance was different, and I wasn't wearing a suit. We do usually ride in a car together though.

Odagiri: I'll occasionally ask him to take me home on the way back (laughs).

Katsurayama: I'm sure people would wonder about that if they saw us. We're not in a black patrol car (laughs). We've never been recognized when walking together. Sometimes I have when I'm by myself. I'm usually just wandering around.

Odagiri: I ride my bike everywhere (laughs).

Katsurayama: Whenever we go out together, it's either for a meal or for drinks. You wanna go fishing next time?

Odagiri: Ah, please take me with you.

Katsurayama: I'm afraid he'll get mad at me if we go alone, so I'll invite everyone. And when I say fishing, I don't mean anything that serious, we'll just be sitting on the breakwater all night.

Odagiri: That sounds nice. Let's go. _

Bonus Secret Story

For the first half, Katsurayama-san says his dialogue with a Kansai dialect. He usually speaks in Kansai dialect.

Odagiri-san brought his polaroid camera. The purpose was to take pictures for "Monthly Odagiri," a popular corner on TV Asahi's website. He occasionally took pictures of Katsurayama-san talking and Katsurayama-san eating.

Unrecorded Conversation 1 (from a conversation in which Ichijou calls Yusuke by his full name)

Katsurayama: "Godai Yusuke, can you hear me?" How many times have I said this line?

Odagiri: You say it every time.

Katsurayama: "Unidentified Lifeform #10 has appeared somewhere."

Odagiri: "Yes, I understand."

Katsurayama: I also said that for the new toys that are coming out.

Unrecorded Conversation 2 (century eggs were used in the dish that was brought out to them)

Odagiri: I heard that Otsuka-san was a century egg in a previous life.

Katsurayama: Are you a previous life fortune teller? (laughs).

Odagiri: After it ferments, it finally becomes Otsuka-san (laughs).

Katsurayama: He's probably sneezing right now.

116 notes · View notes

amuyyi · 8 months ago

Text

she wants me (to be loved) .

synopsis; you have always loved huh yunjin, but not in the way she loved you.

trope; huh yunjin x f!reader, angst, unrequited (?) love, bittersweet ending

wc; 4.6k

cw; idk like one cuss word LMAO

a/n; i swear im still in forever writers block but THIS FIC IS INSPIRED BY THE SHE WANTS ME TO BE LOVED WARRIOR CATS AMV ON YOUTUBE ITS ABOUT BLUEFUR AND THRUSHPELT PLEEEEK WATCH IT AND/OR LISTEN TO THE SONG WHILE READING IM JUST SO ARRGGHHH also its almost 4 am i am half asleep i just realllyy wanted to finish this. also i used to be a theatre kid so.

You have always loved Huh Yunjin. But not in the way she loved you.

You recall very vividly the first day you met her.

It was the middle of freshman year of high school, and you had just moved into New York from out of state. Your father had just gotten a new job opportunity, and practically wasted no time packing all of your things to move in the middle of the school year. Perfect. New place, new faces, and definitely no friends. Everything an emotional teenage girl needed in a cruical stage of her development. All of the other students in your classes were nice enough, but everyone already had their established friend groups by now, and you simply didn't fit what they were looking for.

Despite the different environment, there was one thing that this school provided that provided some sort of familiarity.

Theater.

Back in middle school and for the brief semester you had in your old high school, you had always been a fan of the big stage. The music, the dramatics, the acting… It was all so whimsical and alluring to you. How could you not get involved?

(Okay, honestly.. You had gotten really into musical theater in middle school once you found a Hamilton animatic and it became your sole personality trait for a good two years or so–)

Unfortunately, you were too much of a coward to truly put yourself out there like the actors around you. High school insecurities and poor self esteem truly did take its toll on you back then. So instead, you settled for being part of the stage crew.

You thought that getting involved with a club would make it easier for you to socialize and make friends. You could join a community. Yet somehow, it made everything all the more difficult.

Everybody seemed to already know each other and have their own established friends. On top of that, everyone also seemed to know who they hated as well. You would always overhear what other actors and techies would say about one another and it only just put you off from making friends even more. The whole environment was incredible… cliquey.

Still, you had nothing else better to do, so you stayed. It was… Fine. You still had no real friends, but you did enjoy doing various tasks around the stage. Working with stage lights, helping prepare costumes, painting backdrops. It keeps you busy. It was routine.

It wasn’t an uncommon sight to walk in on actors practicing their lines or their songs backstage. Back home, you knew everyone involved within the production– including the actors. You would always compliment them and occasionally even provide help whenever you didn’t have your own techy jobs to fulfill. The main problem? This isn't home. Nobody here was your friend.

But when you found a pretty girl practicing for this semester's production of Phantom of The Opera in an empty hallway, you couldn't help but stop in your tracks and stare. You’ve never seen her before. Well, it's not like you bothered to pay much attention to the people around you anymore— but you feel like you wouldn't miss a face like hers.

She had the prettiest brown hair with highlights and the cutest beauty mark near the corner of her mouth. She was pacing around the hall, script in hand as she did various vocal exercises. The sound of her voice echoes off the walls, and it was just as angelic as she looked.

“Prima Donna, your song shall live again…!” She sings out, her voice at a steady yet powerful vibrato throughout her verse. Her Bel Canto was skilled and practiced, and you can't help but wonder how long she’s been doing this for. Surely she’s overqualified for a simple high school production? You needed to hear more…

She moves her hands in elegant and dramatic forms as she immerses herself into the self-centered character of Carlotta. She played the roke perfectly, considering how most definitely had your attention now.

“You took a snub, but theres a public who needs you, think of the cr—“

A loud thud rings throughout the hallway, startling the mystery opera singer as well as yourself. Shit. You look down and see the culprit. Well, it was you. you caused the interruption— but more specifically, it was a freshly decapitated mannequin head with a wig you were going to more securely attach to the top. It was a bit of a horrific sight, in all honesty.

Now that you think about it, this prop might actually be for her. Though you didn't have much time to ponder that thought considering the mysterious brown haired beauty has now caught you eavesdropping on her singing.

The head rolls across the tile floor and lands at her feet. You feel your face warm to what was most likely a bright tomato red as she picks it up by its shortened neck, the wig threatening to fall off as it dangles limply off of the top of its head.

“I'm assuming this is yours?” She smiles kindly at you, though a bit wary. Understandable, really. You would be wary of yourself too if you were in her shoes.

“Y-Yeah, sorry…” you nervously laugh, taking the head from her hands as you try to pat the wig back into place.

“You sounded good, by the way!” You quickly stammer out, absentmindedly hugging the head to your chest, “Like… really good. Seriously.”

The mystery girl laughs at your flustered words, and she waves her hand dismissively. Her cheeks warm bashfully as she shakes her head.

“Thanks but… I have a lot to work on. My tones off, and I still need to memorize these lines by tomorrow…” she trails off, moving to press her back against the wall, sliding and sitting down on the floor.

Fiddling a bit with the mannequin head, you don't allow yourself to think too hard before you suddenly blurt out.

“I-I can help!”

You watch as her pretty brown eyes widen slightly, and

“Really? You sure you arent too busy?

You were actually quite busy, but she didnt have to know that.

“Of course not,” you lie confidently, sticking a hand out, “I’m y/n.”

She eyes your hand curiously, but ultimately shakes it, “Yunjin. Jennifer, if you’d like.”

From then on, you would spend every other day after school with Yunjin, helping her recite her lines, fitting her for costume changes, and even finishing that mannequin head prop for her.

Soon after, your after school hangouts turned into out of school hangouts and then eventual sleepovers every weekend. You learned everything possible about Yunjin. Like how she had always dreamed of being a performer, how she wanted to make it big in the Kpop industry, how she loves snakes…

Since then, you knew you loved her.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

On one seemingly normal spring afternoon, you were abruptly torn away from your sunkissed siesta with the sound of your door being kicked open.

With the growing bond between you and Yunjin, you made the mistake of giving the girl a spare key to your own home. (Oddly enough, your parents werent against the idea. They considered Yunjin like a second daughter.)

You whine out as she grasps at your half asleep form, shaking you aggressively.

“I got accepted into a company, y/n!! I'm gonna be a trainee!”

Eyes shooting open, you try to sit up through the aggressive grip Yunjin had on you.

“No kidding?” You croak out, looking at her with disbelief.

“I'm not!” She cheers, bouncing happily through your bedroom. Trying to match her energy through the grogginess, you slip out of bed, stumbling a bit as you tumble into her arms. Yunjin laughs at your state, wrapping her arms around your waist to keep you steady as she jumps excitedly.

“I’m going to move back to Korea next month— this is so exciting!!” She squeals out, and your smile falters ever so slightly. Move? To Korea?

Still, you bite back the sickly feeling developing in your stomach as you squeal alongside her.

You were happy for her, and did nothing but support her all throughout her time in Korea. Called her every night after training, sent her pictures of school life without her, even voting for her in that odd survival show she participated in. You did anything and everything you could to be the best friend you could be.

Yunjin always had the stars in her eyes. But in yours? There was only ever her.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

The day that everything truly changed is still fresh in your mind.

After spending years chasing after Yunjin, it feels like you have finally caught up to her. She's back in the states after her time in Korea, and she's planning on staying. She looked a little different than before, but it was the same old Jennifer you knew and loved— even when missing a few moles and deeper eyebags.

Upon her arrival back home, it was like no time had passed. Once again attached at the hip, as it should be. You practically made it your job to crawl into her skin at any given moment and to pamper her with all of her favorite things.

You would treat her to meals, spontaneous shopping sprees, and simple girls nights out. All of the good stuff to make up for lost time. Unfortunately, your attempts to keep your best friend happy came with their own obstacles. you would occasionally find advertisements or clips of idols that would show up during your time together, and for just a brief moment, you would see that usual spark within Yunjin’s eyes falter. It was a stark reminder of what she could have had.

It hurt you to see her get reminded of her time as a trainee. It truly was everything she wanted and more. But it was okay, you were here now, and you weren't planning on letting her go this time.

You’d drop any and everything for Yunjin. You allowed her to vent whenever she needed, to come over whenever she wanted, and to indulge in spontaneous late night meals whenever you two felt like it.

Needless to say, your wallet was crying by the time summer was nearing its end, but you didn’t mind at all. Yunjin was back. She was happy. You were happy. Things were finally returning to normal.

The two of you decide on a college to attend together in Boston, both pursuing a major in business. It's neither of your first choices in majors, but it's a good enough money maker in the long run.

The pair of you sat in Yunjins bedroom, with you comfortably propped up against her bedframe on the floor whilst the brunette lay comfortably on the mattress. You hugged the djungelskog plushie you had gifted Yunjin some birthday ago close to your chest as you atared at your phone, with Yunjin crunching away on cheez-its as the entire La La Land soundtrack softly plays from the record player in the corner of the room.

Its nearly less than a month until move in day at Boston University, and you feel beyond giddy. Actual independence? And spending it with your best friend slash secret crush? Your dreams were coming true. Looking through your college dorms on the website, the pair of you converse about the future.

“What kind of theme do you think we should go for our dorm?” you ask, leaning your head against the bed to look up at Yunjin, who was still crunching away contentedly at her snacks.

“I'm not sure… But I do know I want to cover my wall with all of my posters…”

“Ooh! Yeah!! I can add fake flowers on the walls…”

“ Of course, we need a bit of girlish charm— oh! we need to make room for a record player and my guitar.”

“Google maps says there's a 7-eleven near the campus…” you murmur, your short attention prompting you to immediately shift to another topic.

“ Should we go got late night snack runs?”

“Duh.”

“Or maybe if we get tired of the dorm food, we can get equally as crappy convenience store food for instead–”

Suddenly, the music from Yunjin’s phone gets cut off, being replaced with her ringtone (it was Come Inside Of My Heart by IV of Spades ) as she huffs.

“ sorry, hold that thought..” She murmurs, answering the call.

You didn't know any Korean, the only bits you’re familiar with are the phrases Yunjin taught you to talk with her parents (which you also butchered) so you naturally begin to tune out whatever she begins to say on her end. Despite this though, you easily pick up on the shift in tone as she speaks. Professionalism, skepticism, to Shock. That was all you could read off of Yunjin as you looked up from your phone, curiously glancing at her. Her eyes were boggling out of her skull, and she placed a hand over her mouth before ending the call.

The brunette remains frozen in place, hand still over her mouth as a silence passes over the room.

“So….?” You ask, crawling up onto the bed to sit next to her.

Yunjin’s voice is shaky, yet laced with a twinge of excitement and disbelief as she speaks, “I just got a call from Hybe. I… I have the chance to debut.”

You don’t know what came over you at that moment. It felt like the world came collapsing down on you. Right now, you should be happy. Jumping for joy, focusing all on Yunjin and her chance for success. She's been given a real chance to make her dreams come true, even after it seemed impossible, even after all the years of rejection and work. This was all she wanted in life and more— you should be happy? Right?

But you’ve always been a selfish person. Or maybe you convinced yourself you were ever since that day. You don’t know. Maybe in that moment, you realized you could lose everything you’ve been waiting for. You’d lose the girl you've chased after for so many years now. If you didn't do something now, you wouldn’t have the chance to do it ever again. You were a greedy person, so you confess.

“Yunjin, I love you. I always have.”

The words feel like a slap to the face, and it shows. It shows in the way her eyes widen and smile falls. This was a bad idea, but you can't back out now. Your eyes begin to water as your voice cracks.

“I… I don’t want you to go— to leave me…” you choke out, “What about uni? Our dorm? What am I going to do without you?”

You knew you were being manipulative, you knew you were being selfish. But you didn’t care. You wanted her to know how you truly felt. You didn’t want her to leave you, not again. Your heart couldn’t handle it.

Through tears threatening to spill out, you can see her cheeks slowly dust a faint shade of pink as she processes your words. She seems… hesitant. Over what? You weren’t too sure. You weren’t too sure if you even wanted to know.

The silence that washes over the two of you is beyond suffocating. You feel like you’re drowning, digging your nails into your palms as you look away. If you looked at her, you were scared you’d break, and the tears would begin to flow. After a few moments that feel like hours, she finally responds.

“I believe you have feelings for me…” she begins, voice soft yet strained. For some reason, those words leave a bad feeling in your gut. You muster up enough courage to meet her gaze. She looked just as hurt and conflicted as you felt. Yunjins grip on her phone tightens as she takes a deep breath, continuing, “...but I can’t give this up, y/n. It's my dream.”

That was the moment you knew you truly lost her.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

In another life, you and Yunjin would be at Boston University together, pursuing that business degree that neither of you want.

It's a dream that used to occasionally return to you when Yunjin was overseas. Every now and then, you’d wake up in a cold sweat, and you’d check Yunjins location. She’d still be in Seoul. It was okay though, because you knew she’d always come back. She always came back. Now it haunts you every other night.

The dream is always so incredibly vivid and real. You would wake up to Yunjins many alarms that she somehow manages to sleep through every single time, and you’d peel your eyes opened to your shared dorm room. Though you didn’t have much time to admire the beauty of it all through the sound of an alarm continuously dragging you out of your slumber. She’s always been a heavy sleeper. you’d have to jump on Yunjins sleeping form to even stir her into some form of consciousness.

Yunjin groaned in protest, but you knew her. She wasn’t truly bothered, not when it came to you. Instead of entertaining your futile attempts to wake her up, she would wrap her arm around your waist, dragging you down with her as you squeal out.

She's warm. Her brown bobbed hair has grown out by now, black roots peeking through the top of her head as you join the mess that is her bed (and hair.) She smells like vanilla and wood, and you can't help but laugh into her embrace. You’ll be late to the dining hall for breakfast, but it doesn't really matter. There was a 7-eleven nearby that could provide breakfast while the two of you rushed to your classes– in which you had meticulously planned to have almost every single class together.

After a long day of school, you would return back to your dorm both collapsing on your respective beds as exhaustion settles in. It was decorated just the way you two liked it. With both boy and girl band posters littering the walls alongside some fake vines, flowers, and a multitude of polaroids you two have accumulated over the years.

Once the two of you move out of the dorms and graduate, you’d find an apartment to share. Dual income and no children, that was the way to live. Alongside a cat and a dog, of course. You’d have a black cat named Binx, and a golden retriever named Dug, something you two had discussed many times before.

It’s beyond perfect. You lay on the couch, comfortably in Yunjins arms as a blanket is lazily draped over your forms. Binx is settled upon your lap as Dug takes up the space on the rug. The tv is playing Coraline— a staple movie for you two, and you'd smile. Yunjin would lovingly return the grin, leaning in to place a soft kiss on your lips.

And then you’d wake up, the grim reality of your situation compared to your dream sending tears flowing down your cheeks. You’re constantly reminded how Yunjin wasn't yours. Not in this lifetime. And it hurt more than anything else.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

You’ve always been there for Yunjin, both before and after she became famous.

In High school, you of course supported her throughout your brief time in the drama club. But you also provided a shoulder to cry on, a free source of math homework answers, a friend.

When she moved back to Korea to become a trainee, you helped her through the rough patches. Hours of dance training, rigorous workouts, and unhealthy dieting took a toll on her. But you were always there through the phone, no matter the time.

Even after her debut, you remained loyally by her side. Yunjin grew busier and more distant over the years, and it was understandable. You were busy too. With college, internships, and general “adulting,” it was a challenge to remain in contact. Still, when you two did find time to talk, Yunjin would tell you stories of her members, of the rumors and scandals that would plague the group. It hurt to see her hurting, especially knowing you couldn't be there for her like before. But you were glad to see her achieving all she wanted and more.

You hop into one of Yunjins late night livestreams (even if it was the morning for you.) It wasn’t like you couldn’t just call her whenever you wanted, but it was just another one of the little things you would do to continuously support your friend. Yunjin never made a scene whenever you popped in, but always made sure to look for your comments and read them out every single time.

“Sing something from Phantom or you’re lame?” She reads out, a soft laugh slipping past her lips as she does so.

The idol gives the camera a knowing look, one that only could be read by you, and you smile as she clears her throat. Phantom of the Opera is what brought you two together, after all. She spends a few minutes doing short vocal exercises to warm up her voice, and the sight is oddly nostalgic. Yunjin then sits up straight as she begins to sing, and you feel your heart twinge slightly at her song choice.

“Think of me,

Think of me fondly,

When we've said goodbye.

Remember me,

Once in a while,

Please promise me you'll try.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Now here you were, in a completely foreign country, placed in more than accommodating seats within the VIP section of this unfamiliar venue you’ve never even heard of before. There were hordes of men around you, all cheering in a deep voiced mass for the girls on stage. You stuck out like a sore thumb. Yet, there was Yunjin. You watch her, shining brightly on stage whilst donning a fresh head of bright orange hair. It suited her. Her fiery passion, her fierce determination that got her here in the first place, her glowing smile. It was all only a physical expression of who she was on the inside.

Yunjin had insisted on getting you these tickets– even going out of her way to even cover part of your plane ticket here despite you having a very stable and office job now. You tried to tell her you were happy enough to see her from the nosebleed seats in the back, especially since it was all you could afford on such short notice. But she refused, pulling some strings to give you the best seats possible. She wanted you here. More than anyone else.

You’ve seen Yunjin perform before. How could you not? You could vividly recall the way she would sing out and capture the entire crowd’s attention from the stage of your high school’s auditorium. How she would perform with such confidence and precision, how she performed like she was made for this.

Things have changed a lot since then. There was no business college in your future together anymore. No planned dorms together. No more late night talks. No 7-eleven snack runs. Yet oddly enough, despite the changes, this was seemingly no different than before. Every person in the crowd was entranced, immediately allured by her natural charm and her passionate voice. You included. Just like those many years before, she still managed to have you bewitched on the sidelines while she chases after the spotlight.

So you cheer. Joining the roaring crowd as you call out Yunjins name, a bright smile playing on your lips as you do so. You’ve always been her biggest fan, after all. You swear you saw her make eye contact with you, seemingly providing her an energy boost as she sings out to the audience. She was beautiful, and she knew it.

Once the show is over, you find your way to the backstage area. You tried your best to explain to the security how you were friends with one of the members, and how she invited you back there. Unfortunately, your Korean was less than conversational, and you pretty much looked like an embarrassingly desperate and obsessive fan until Chaewon came and saved the day.

“y/n-nnie! Come, Come!! I saw you in the crowd!!” She chirps out sweetly, abruptly pushing past the guard and dragging you backstage, leaving the security both confused and a bit exhausted. This might not have been the first time the girls have tried to meet with their friends after performances.

There were people everywhere. Stage hands, stylists, makeup artists, and more, all rushing around you two and occasionally praising Chaewon. You felt beyond out of place, and probably looked the part too. Despite having Yunjin as a friend, you’ve never once felt like you were friends with a celebrity. She was simply your Jennifer, and that was more than enough. Being here though, you could truly see the extent of the impact she had on people. How so many people respected her and admired her.

Lost within your thoughts and observations of the crowd, you barely notice when Chaewon lets go of your arm, leaving you to fall victim to a bright orange mass stampeding your way. Without warning, you’re tackled into a hug by none other than Yunjin herself. You swear you see stars as the air gets forced out of your lungs.

“y/n!! You made it!!” She beams, giving you a firm squeeze pulling away to fully take in the sight of you. Her arms are still firmly wrapped around your form as her eyes almost sparkled with pure affection for you. Your cheeks warm at the contact, and you can't help but shyly avoid her gaze. Even after all of this time, she still has the same effect on you. After letting out a soft breath, she quietly murmurs, “I was singing for you, y’know.”

And your heart aches. Aches for what you two could have had. Aches for feelings she chooses not to reciprocate. You want to be angry with her. Despise her for leaving you behind and living this luxurious celebrity life.

Yet your heart also swells. Swells with pure affection for the girl you love. The way she holds you, how she insists on having you attend, how sweetly she says your name. All of it makes you crumble all too easily. She truly cares for you, and never let the fame change that. You truly were lucky to have her.

“Really, now? You sure you weren't singing for the sea of men you forced me to sit with?” You laugh out, gently shoving her, “I swear I heard a guy say he ditched a family dinner to be there.”

Yunjin loudly laughs at your comment as she shakes her head, “How about you come over to our dorms to celebrate tonight, yeah? We’ll even let you pick a movie – or I’ll make them watch whatever you choose… Please?”

You were a bit hesitant. These were Yunjin’s friends. You didn’t want to intrude, especially after a crazy night like this. Yet, despite your reluctance, Yunjin stares down at you with those damn puppy eyes, and somehow manages to get Eunchae and Chaewon to join in…

“... Okay, fine,” you groan out, feigning disappointment as you see Yunjins eyes light up. “but we’re watching Coraline.”

The girls all cheer and pull you into a tight hug, with Yunjin holding onto you just a bit tighter than the others.

Huh Yunjin loves you. But not in the way you want. Yunjin wants you to be loved.

And loved you are, even if it means she can't be yours.

#kpop fanfic #gg fanfic #kpop #kpop x female reader #gxg #kpop gg #kpop x fem reader #huh yunjin x reader #yunjin x reader #le sserafim x reader #le sserafim x fem reader #wlw #gxg imagine #yunjin x female reader #Spotify

294 notes · View notes

inf3ct3dd · 2 years ago

Text

ellie headcanons pt.5!!!

warnings: nada

content: loser!ellie x reader headcanons

authors note : ellie dug a hole into my skull and moved in

⁃ against bags for no reason. like her pockets are constantly full of things. random receipts, money, headphones, EVERYTHING. she takes her pants of and they jingle cuz they're filled with COINS.

⁃ knows how to do a back bridge and just HAS to let everyone know. you're watching tv and she's just on the floor like "look"

⁃ i feel like shes the type of person to just start fully eating an orange in the middle of class. like ur listening to the teacher talk and you're just hit by the most aggressive wave of CITRUS from behind you

⁃ constantly fighting the air... like she's just in the kitchen punching and kicking at NOTHING just because. she's always coming up to you and like take punching you and doing her own sound effects like “PWAH PWAH WAM WAPOW"

⁃ jar hoarder 😞😞 every time you buy anything that comes in a jar she's keeping it. literally won't let you throw them away!!! you guys don't even have cups anymore, its just jars and mugs.

⁃ speaking of mugs, ellie has just as many stupid mugs as she does stupid tshirts. absolutely has a lot of garfield mugs be she LOVES GARFEILD

- would buy a dry-erase board for your fridge and leave u little notes and drawings

⁃ "Every single time I see you, I become horny like a triceratops" with a little drawing of a triceratops"

⁃ breaks into incoherent ramblings when shes sleepy... like insane hypotheticals

"what if our bed just completely exploded right now"

⁃ whenever ur on facetime and it gets quiet she just breaks out into song. not even like good, trying singing but BAD SINGING.

⁃ she does that whenever it's quiet !!!

⁃ is listening to music CONSTANTLY. her headphones are actually attached to her ears like all DAY she's listening to something.

⁃ HATES THE BIG LIGHT (iykyk) she lives for low/ natural lighting definitely has so many lamps and led lights

⁃ can never sit normal.... like she is not beating the gay ppl sitting weird allegations she sits so ODD

⁃ will spend literal hours in the pool. doing flips, pretending to be a mermaid, 'making up' her own tricks, she lives for it & !!!

⁃ refuses to dress right for the weather. it'll be like 90° outside and shes in a whole hoodie and jeans.

⁃ has the WEIRDEST subway order. probably puts banana peppers on her shit 😭😭 she swears its the best thing ever

⁃ love's campy comedy movies, esp lesbian ones and horror movies (but im a cheerleader, bottoms, scary movie, etc) also def loves coming of age movies

⁃ has a letterbox account and makes extremely thought provoking reviews

literally her

⁃ always taking candids of you, and they're literally her favorite pictures

⁃ every time she sees two things next to eachother she's like "oh my god it's literally us!!"

⁃ one time she crashed her car and it literally fully flipped over and she just crawled out of the trunk and called you like "you would NOT believe what just happened to me."

- absolutely a waffles girl she needs the texture she likes the CRUNCH

⁃ but like she also loves bacon pancakes. like she's obsessed w adventure time and she makes bacon pancakes ALL THE TIME and she sings the song while she makes them

- eats trail mix like all day....she buys the giant jars and you make fun of her cuz she "likes eating nuts"

⁃ the most secret swifty ever. like she refuses to let it be known but she fully sobbed when she listened to folklore for the first time

⁃ obsessed w those baby sensory videos. like she will literally be entertained for hours

⁃ LOVES the lego movies, esp lego batman

⁃ the MOST honest shit talker ever like you'll be like "yeah she's just a really bad person" and she'd be like "she's also like disgustingly hideous...

⁃ her search history isn’t even weird or gross its just…random. like she’s definitely googled “how do cotton candy machines work” before

⁃ family guy enjoyer.....

⁃ her cf story is like insanely long n its filled w random memes she reposts and insane ramblings

taglist!!!! if ur name is crossed i can't tag u :((

@syrenada @dinaissoprettyoml, @kingofmylastkiss @as2rid @greencacty @melissabarrerass @bratydoll @lov3lylotus @forelliesposts @echostinn @f3r4Ifr0gg3r @r3wbeef @leatheredhearts @mousymaven @mina-281@princessguardian444 @calystas-morning-tea @horror-whoree @slutshies @bearieio @mag-mfm @bubs-world @paran0id0blivi0n @sawaagyapong @bbygrIshelbs @gayh0rr0r @p|9ys @ellieslilsIvvt @dollietes @elliesmellsbadd @ibloom4u @ddreabea @beestar120 @brunettedolls-blog @girlwonderchloe @elliesgflol @maris-koffin @emonopolyman @iloveeyousblog @fr3sh-tragedies @ilovaffles @certifedcrybunny @elleatethat @baldph0bic @clouded-whispers @4rt3m1ss @saggykneecaps @swtsuna @ellesslutt @minixmel @yuyans-stuff @owmoiralover @thecowardwrites @lunascerebro @elliestrwbrry @iwantsoda @teeveegirl @dinasmoon @urnewghostfriend @k3ym4ra @bratzboydoll @ungodlyvenus @lav3nd3rhaze @scokslvoer @iloveunrealpeople @realwinehouse @nehemiahlicious @onedeaddreamer @teawithnosugar @r4t1ku5 @villainousbear @mentallymarriedtonatasharomanoff @gay4tiddies @uraesthete @lil-elliesgf @neighborhood-houseplant @sagessensationalstuff

#ellie williams x reader #loser!ellie #ellie x reader #ellie x y/n #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie williams x you #ellie williams tlou #tlou part 2 #tlou fic #tlou headcanons

958 notes · View notes

freedomfireflies · 2 years ago

Text

Middle-Class Seats, First-Class Fun pt. 2*

Summary: The sequel to Middle-Class Seats, First-Class Fun

You find yourself sat next to the Harry Styles on a plane.

And what better way to get to know each other than a quick induction into the Mile High Club?

Word Count: 2.1k

(Thank you for letting me spam you guys for one whole year🥹💞 I love you!!!!!)

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞 You are so much more important!*

“Hi, Stranger.”

Harry grins as he pulls the small door shut, secluding the two of you in the world’s smallest bathroom. “Hi.”

“Gonna be honest, I didn’t expect you to show,” you admit.

“Oh?” His arms cross as he takes a step closer, effectively closing the only gap between you. “And what about our earlier conversation suggested I wouldn’t?”

“Well, maybe the fact that you’re all talk and no game,” you retort, eyebrow raised as you look up at him. “Or the fact that you don’t seem like the quick-airplane-bathroom-fuck type.”

“I have a song about eating pussy, is that not enough?” he teases, a smirk dancing across his lips. “I feel like that should solidify my case.”

“Yeah, you’d think…but no.” Your eyes trail across his jaw, drawn to the sharp curve, intrigued by the subtle beauty. “Maybe if this were the first-class bathroom. Which would make a lot more sense for you.”

“What’s wrong with coach?”

“Nothing. When you’re poor. Which you’re not.”

“And that has to do with us fucking…how?”

You hesitate, mouth clamping shut. “I…don’t know.”

Nodding with an amused grin, he reaches out to place his hand on the small sink and lean forward, trapping you to the wall. “I think you’re nervous.”

“Well no shit, Sherlock.”

He hums, kind eyes helping to relax you. “Guess we’re both more talk than game.”

And maybe you are. Maybe this is nothing more than you calling his bluff. Or calling your own. Maybe this was you getting swept up in the idea of Harry Styles. The man, the myth, the legend. Maybe you just wanted to prove to yourself that you could.

Either way, despite the nerves, you’re oddly tantalized by the idea. Wanting to seize the moment, the opportunity that most people would kill for.

So, you surge forward, and press your lips to his.

It’s a hesitant kiss. On both ends. The first few seconds a tad awkward as you work to wrap your heads around how you got here. How you really feel about it.

And then…something changes.

He steps closer, straightening up to deepen the kiss, and you nearly wilt when his large hand slips around the back of your neck to keep you against him.

Things suddenly feel effortless. Practiced yet relaxed. Mouths and tongues moving together like they were always meant to. Molding seamlessly until all of your air belongs to him.

His other hand finds a home on your hip, pushing you against the small bathroom wall while his knee takes its place between your thighs.

And when he finally pulls back to rest his forehead against yours, it feels as though everything makes sense.

“We can go back to our seats,” he whispers, giving you an out.

But you don’t want an out.

“No,” you murmur, fingers tangling in the shirt on his chest. “No, you promised to make me scream your name. Can’t pussy out on me now.”

The smirk returns as he brushes his thumb along your cheek. “So I did. But I guess it depends on which name you call me by.”

Your breath hitches.

“You can call me Harry,” he begins softly, dipping back down to ghost his lips across yours, “or you can call me Daddy.”

And discovering that Harry Styles has a Daddy kink makes more sense than it should, and you have to grin as you press your mouth to his.

“Okay, Daddy,” you agree, just to watch him swallow. “Then why don’t you make good on your promise to fuck me?”

You watch the most beautifully dark expression flash across his face before he’s grabbing onto your waist to spin you around.

Your cheek is pressed to the wall while those large hands that have been taunting you for the past half hour begin to tease you again. Crawling up the inside of your thigh until he can grab onto the waistband of your jeans and yank the material down your legs.

“Just so you know,” he grunts in between the rustling of his belt, “I’m normally pro-foreplay. But I figure we don’t exactly have the time right now.”

“I know,” you agree. “It’s fine.”

He reaches around your hip to slide his palm down your cunt, and you sigh when you feel him cup you in his hand.

“What’s this?” he hums, rather sadistically as his nose brushes against your cheek. “Guess I didn’t need to work you up, anyhow. Seems you’re already dripping for me.”

Your lashes flutter as he kneads your pussy for a moment before he lets go to take hold of his cock.

“So, what’s it gonna be, angel?” he whispers, dragging the tip through your throbbing folds just to make you whimper. “You gonna be loud for me? Or are you gonna be quiet?”

More of a rhetorical question, you figure, because the answer is given to him when he pushes in, and you moan fervently.

He chuckles from behind you before it melts into some sort of delicious grunt. “That’s it. So fucking tight, darling. Take it, just like that.”

He pulls out, giving you only a second of reprieve before pushing back in. Stretching you a little more as he drives himself deeper into your cunt.

Your lip flies between your teeth as you swallow a string of curses and whines, desperate to feel him in every way possible.

“You all right?” he calls, and you feel his fingers gently squeezing your hip for reassurance.

It makes you smile. “Yeah,” you say back, nails scratching down the wall. “Go. Keep going.”

He obliges, working himself in at a quicker pace, and you see him watching out of your peripheral.

He seems mesmerized by the way his cock disappears into you. Addicted to the sounds now beginning to echo around the small space. Mixing in beautifully with his soft pants and your anguished whimpers.

“S’a good girl,” he murmurs beneath his breath, almost as if it wasn’t meant for you. “Fucking taking me so well, look at you. Pretty pussy just stretching for me. Likes having Daddy’s cock, doesn’t she?”

And maybe you shouldn’t be surprised by the filth coming from his mouth, but you are, and it makes you clench until you’re both gasping.

“Shit, angel,” he groans, burying himself a little deeper as you keen. “Like it when I talk to you like that, hm? Not so vanilla now, yeah?”

You want to thank your lucky stars for that damn book that led you both to this moment, nodding quickly as you squirm back against him. “Yes, Daddy—”

He pushes in to the hilt, overcome by the pleasure your words provide. His chest presses to your back, and instantly, you reach over your shoulder to grab onto his curls. Needing to hold him in some way.

“Fuck,” you sigh, vision hazy as your body works to accommodate him. “Okay go. Go, Harry, go.”

He smiles at the use of his name, and it does something strange to the butterflies already fluttering in your stomach.

“Okay,” he agrees, pulling back and readjusting his grip on your waist to keep you steady. “Be good, yeah?”

The faster pace begins. Hard thrusts that nearly knock the wind from your lungs as your body shakes with each snap of his hips into yours.

It’s oddly satiating. Perfectly full and teasingly relentless. Quick fucks aren’t normally your forte, but this? With Harry? In the world’s tiniest bathroom?

Euphoria.

“Fucking squeezing me, darling, shit,” he exhales, gripping you tight in his hand. “Pretty little pussy looks so good clenching around my cock. Like it, angel, don’t you? Like letting me fuck your sweet cunt the way you’ve been needing?”

And you don’t know how he knows you’ve been so desperate, but he does, and it makes you mewl as you drag your nails down his scalp.

“Oh, I know,” he coos but it’s dark. “Can just tell. So fucking cock drunk. Desperate for anything I’ll give you. Even let a stranger fuck you, hm? Let me take care of you the way you deserve?”

“Yes,” you breathe, mindlessly reaching back for his other hand. Once you find it, you intertwine his fingers with yours and drag his palm up toward your neck. Placing it against your throat until he seems to get the hint.

He says nothing, simply squeezes you in his grip. Until the corners of your vision get fuzzy, and the small bathroom gets smaller.

“That’s it,” he hums, almost as if luring you into the darkness. “Let go for me, baby girl. Just like that. Daddy’s got you.”

Everything is heightened. Every sense, every second. You can feel his facial hair rubbing against your cheek. Can feel the calloused tips of his fingers cementing to your exposed skin. Can taste the drink he had on your tongue.

There’s a knock on the door. A hard tap, and Harry’s pace doesn’t falter for even a moment as he calls, “Fucking occupied,” before slamming back into you.

The noise you make is loud enough to be heard by whoever was on the other side. Perhaps his intention, and it makes your pussy clench once more at the thought.

“Bet you’d look fucking perfect on your knees,” he continues, unrelenting. “With my cock down your throat. Fucking drooling for me. And you’d take me, wouldn’t you? Take my cock like a good girl. Make me proud.”

The suggestion is exciting. The image in your head of you looking up at the glorious stranger from your place on the floor. Getting to feel him on your tongue. Down your throat. Anywhere he’ll have you.

You bet he likes to see his cum painted across a partner’s skin. Likes to run his fingers through it. His tongue. Collect it and taste it before spitting it into their mouths.

Your entire body shudders from the mental picture and even if Harry doesn’t know what garnered this response, he seems pleased with it. Tugging on you tighter until you’re practically sitting on him.

You’re running out of time. Running out of willpower, and he releases your throat to find your clit. The first time he’s truly touched it, and the sensation that follows nearly kills you.

You hadn’t anticipated being so sensitive, but you are, and it’s apparent to you both from the way you jolt when he pinches you.

“Oh?” He’s chuckling again, entertained by your reaction. “S’that all it takes then? Poor little cunt just needs some extra attention?”

He presses into you and begins to rub small, hard circles along the delicate nerves. Ignoring your cries and pleas for more.

Instead, his foot kicks your legs further apart, and his mouth attaches to your neck. Nipping just below your ear as he whispers, “Bet you taste fucking divine, hm? Bet I could write a whole song about the way this pussy tastes.”

He lets go just to bring his hand to his mouth. Sucking on the soaked digits and groaning in your ear.

A shiver rolls down your spine before he drags his saliva coated fingers back to your clit. “So fucking sweet, angel. But you already knew that, didn’t you? S’why you were teasing me all fucking day. Cause you knew I’d get addicted to you.”

You’re so close to release, you can see it. Can actually see the blinding stars barreling toward you like meteors.

“And what if I am, huh?” He goes faster. Gets sloppier. Needing to get you both there. “What if I’m fucking addicted to you now? What if I can’t go without the taste of you?”

“Have it,” you sough, rolling your hips back against his cock. “Have me, Harry, please—”

“I will,” he growls, and you feel his cock twitch the closer he gets. “Fucking will, angel. Need you to come for me, yeah? Come for Daddy. Let me feel you around me, darling. Right fucking now—”

Everything is a blur. Maybe he comes first, maybe you do. It all melds together until it’s one, long string of orgasms and pleasure.

He doesn’t let you go for quite some time. Pushing you to the very brink, making sure it goes as far as it can. Even after you’ve come down and are squirming away from the ministrations to your clit.

The sadistic need to make sure you’re ruined is evident, and he only stops when you begin to collapse in his hold.

“Okay, easy, angel, easy,” he whispers, grasping onto your hips to keep you upright. “You’re all right, yeah? You okay?”

You nod weakly as you catch your breath, and he takes this as a good sign. Allowing you to stand on your own when you’re ready.

But he doesn’t go far. He bends down and pulls your jeans back up. Makes sure you’re all right.

You notice he purposefully leaves the mess between your thighs, and when you shoot him a questioning eyebrow, his only response is, “For later.”

Which you don’t mind at all.

I KNOW, I KNOW IT'S BEEN FOREVER!!!! I'M SO SORRY BUT THANK YOU FOR STICKING WITH ME AND BEING SO NICE, ILY ALL 😭💞💞💞

Previous Part:

~ Middle-Class Seats, First-Class Fun

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282

I'm also tagging you guys from the first part just in case, but if you've already moved on, I can absolutely understand 😭💞: @blackbookwhore @nellylayhoohoo @22fallenangel22 @watercolorskyy @ilovedilfs32 @nicodoesntexist @lelenikki @happypoptart

#harry #harry styles #harry edward styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan #harry styles smut #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #smut #harry styles one shot

1K notes · View notes

exquisiteserotonin · 14 days ago

Note

Hiii, first of all, I loved your last fanfic with Geta, your writing is really good 💕

Well, I'm also in my Joseph Quinn era sooo I'd love a fanfic with Eddie

One where the female!reader who was from some big city and moved to Hawkins, she could have become popular very quickly because of that and even though she is surrounded by people who hate Eddie, she starts to like him without caring about others

It would be nice to have smut, but if it doesn't it wouldn't be a problem. I imagine a bold and funny reader, someone that matches Eddie's freakiness really well 👀

Sorry for my English, it's not my mother tongue 😂

Hello darling! Sorry it took a bit to get this out 1) I cannot really write anything short for the life of me and 2) I work too, but I was able to write a little bit of this each day. So without further ado, my very first ask! <3

Big City Girl

Rating: E is for Explicit - 18+ only 🔞MDNI🔞

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female Reader, Eddie Munson x Reader, Eddie Munson x You

Word Count: 5.8K

Summary: You're a new girl in town, fresh in from New York City. Fitting in comes easy to you, but you form unlikely (to your friends) and unapologetic friendship with Eddie Munson. But maybe, just maybe it's even a little bit more.

Warnings: Finger fucking, Fingering, PiV sex, Teenage (but consenting age) sex, public sex, reader is experienced for a teenager and practices smart/safe sex and is protected. And a little bit of fluff! <3

A/N: Please be kind, this s not beta read and it's my first ask! <3 I also put in some random original character as a device to further the plot and character development for the reader.

Read on AO3

Songs mentioned:

It’s only your sixth day in Hawkins Indiana since moving from New York City and just your third at Hawkins High. You hate that your dad’s been placed on special assignment here and during your senior year no less. Not that your dad really cares about anything that you do. You’ve always taken it upon yourself to make the most of pretty much everything in your life, since he was generally nonchalant about anything you do. If you didn’t, who would? You find out from girls you met in your English class that there are dance team tryouts. You’ve been dancing since you were 3 years old. Trying out just makes sense.

So here you stand in the middle of the Hawkins basketball court before a row of three people: two coaches and a very pretty, if not also insufferable senior dancer. Other dancers are in the bleachers or walking to and from the locker room as they finish practice. They are all watching and waiting as your knees and hips rock in a rhythmic beat to the opening notes of Laura Branigan’s “Self Control” begins to play over the speakers. You almost smirk as the three glance at each other uncomfortably. You didn't think the song was that sultry, but maybe to people in a small town like Hawkins it was a little scandalous.

5, 6, 7, and…

You count in your head.

Each move extends from you like it’s second nature. Each flex and point of your foot are timed perfectly to each beat. Your body rolls and undulates with the melody as though you’ve become possessed by the music. You swear you hear an audible gasp from your coaches as your legs seem to grow longer with each developpé and how you’re able to control and somehow abandon yourself to the music and movement.

A safe night (You take my self, you take my self control)

I'm living in the forest of a dream (You take my self, you take my self control)

Your body slinks with each word until you slip into a series of pirouettes and fouettés before you finish dropping to the floor and finish. The music ends. Your heart is pounding. Your breaths come out in a steady rhythm from the work and heart you put into your dance. Simply put: you kill your audition. Yet, as you’re regaining your breath, you hear silence as you wait for the feedback from your would-be coaches and potential teammate. A deafening clap strikes through the silence.

“Are you shitting me? You’re not even gonna clap for the girl?”

You hear a voice yell out that is filled with such indignance it nearly makes you laugh. You push yourself up from the floor to see who called out praises. You see another Hawkins’ student with long, wavy hair, wearing a denim vest over his worn leather jacket and black jeans. He looks like he belongs in a metal band and it leaves an impression. In contrast, everyone at the courts looks annoyed or disgusted by his very existence. The irony of it makes you hide a smile. So far it seems that everyone in Hawkins looks the same. At least this guy has some personality. He’s looking at you, his brow furrows in indignation as he waves around a broom in one hand, a dust pan in the other.

“Ugh, can someone please get him?” You hear the senior dancer say with so much disdain that it immediately turns you off to her. “Isn’t he in detention or something?”

“You’re great!” You hear him say as another teacher shuffles him away. “Your kicks were really badass!”

You can’t help but laugh and give him a little wave before he’s gone. A sigh of exasperation escapes the senior dancer. The coaches glance at each other, saying something quietly to the senior that immediately makes her straighten her posture and attend to your presence. A too big smile fills her face and you know immediately that her jaw must hurt.

“I mean, as much as I hate to agree with Eddie Munson,” the senior dancer starts as you stand up, “you were absolutely amazing.”

“Your technique is superb!” One of the coaches says. “Your musicality and your innate ability to feel the music really shined---I don’t want to speak for everyone, but I know I’m so impressed.”

The other coach nods and opens a folder in front of her, “Your choice of song was a little…mature for high school, but you’re from New York so I guess things are a little different there.”

You squint your eyes in confusion and place your hands behind you as you wait patiently for their feedback. Their small-town judgement feels tangible but you let it roll off you like raindrops on a window. You have to fight to keep from laughing, knowing that whatever criticism they think they are dishing out is nothing compared to your auditions in New York. At 18 years old, rejection is already a bitchy acquaintance of yours.

“I think she would be such an asset to the team!” The senior dancer adds to the discussion. “Who knows? Maybe if we can really focus, the dance team could be competition ready.”

“That’s a pretty heavy undertaking, Kelly,” the coach in the middle says, “but if you think the team is up for it.”

You make a mental note of the senior dancer’s name, knowing that you are probably going to have a lot of contact with her in future. She jumps up and down as she claps her hands. You don’t like to assume that you’re on the team, so you wait until they tell you.

“Welcome to the team!!” Kelly squeals as she runs to you.

“Thanks!” You say with an appreciative nod trying to be at least little bit humble.

She walks with you back to the locker room, interlocking her arm in yours.

“Don’t mind Coach Thompson about your song choice,” she reassures you. “It’ll be nice to have someone with some edge on the team—can’t move forward without taking little risks, right?”

“Oh yeah, of course!” You concur, as you pull a pair of sweatpants pants and an oversized, cropped t-shirt over your leotard.

“I just know everyone’s going to love you!” Kelly says with genuine excitement. “I mean, who wouldn’t? You’ve already got that cool NYC thing going on.”

The doors of the school gym open out to a large parking lot. Your cars are parked on opposite sides of the parking lot and she turns to leave. She calls out to you one more time, prompting you to turn around.

“Oh, and watch out for Eddie Munson,” she mentions with a slight scowl on her face that looks like she’s just smelled something bad. “Trust me, you don’t want to associate with someone like him.”

You press your lips together and just nod. You don't like anyone telling you what to do, especially when it comes to friends. But you also hate confrontation, so you offer her a kind smile, a wave, and a “see you tomorrow.”

A large van is parked only a few spaces from yours. As you walk around the driver’s side you see the Eddie Munson whom Kelly warned you about. He is in the driver’s seat and his eyes move towards you. The New York in you merely wants to ignore and keep walking, but you stop and pivot to face him.

“Hey, hi!” You call out and his eyes shift to his left and right before he looks back at you. “Thanks for the compliment earlier.”

“Oh? You’re actually talking to me! No problem, you were great!” He hops out of the van. “Hey, I’m Eddie, that Eddie Munson.”

“Your reputation seems to precede you,” you say gesturing towards the gym and in the general direction of Kelly’s now departed car.

“Oh, it quite often does,” Eddie confirms and his eyes lower as he gives you a roguish grin. “Pretty ballsy of you to talk me knowing it’d be social suicide, big city girl.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be half as good at everything I do, if I spent all my time worrying about what other people think of me,” you say with a shrug, “now would I?”

“Like dancing?” Eddie tilts his head as he gestures at you in your dance gear.

You hum in thought at the question before replying, “Among other things.”

Eddie raises his brow and you see the intrigue that lives there. He brings a hand to his chin and rubs his lips as he thinks about your words. You introduce yourself, playfully with a little curtsy and he responds with a bow in turn. He smiles as he places a hand on the chain that hangs on his jeans. You consider yourself a good judge of character and in this brief face-to-face Eddie seems harmless.

“Well, it’s getting a little late,” you say as the golden light begins to fade into shades of coral, pink, and dusty purple. “Guess I should go.”

“Yep,” Eddie says and shakes his head, “just so we can go to bed to do it again tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a good plan to me,” you reply as you start walking to your car, but turn around quickly to give him a quick wave. “See you around, Eddie Munson.”

People say that three times is a charm. Maybe this is what they mean. Because on this third day at Hawkins High, you’ve made your first real friend.

***

It’s an understatement to say how relatively easy it’s been to ingratiate yourself into the Hawkins High community. With the school year almost over, it’s starting to feel almost like home. You get along with everyone and everyone is confused by it, most of all the jocks, the cheerleaders, and nearly everyone on your dance team.

The halls are abuzz with excitement as the entire school gears up for the next basketball game. For the first time in a long time, the Hawkins Tigers are headed to the championship. The season keeps you busy as you and Kelly choreograph dances for halftime at the games. You’ve even been able to convince your coaches and Kelly to get the marching band to play with you during halftime on Friday.

The shrill bell sounds throughout the halls and countless smiling faces acknowledge and greet you. Vicky, a girl in the marching band, approaches you. Her eyes are shining and her smile is wide on her freckled face. You give her arm a squeeze and you pull her next to you as you walk with Kelly, some of the other girls on your dance team, and a few of the basketball players to the cafeteria. You can feel the judgement emanating from one or two of your teammates as you lock arms with her.

“We’ve been working on stuff for the game on Friday,” Vicky tells you. “It’s going to be so rad!”

“We can’t wait! We’re still on for the joint rehearsal tomorrow, right?” You ask and she gives you an effervescent nod before she excuses herself to run off with some of her other bandmates.

“Hey big city girl!!” You look up to see your first Hawkins friend at a locker with some of the members of his gaming club. “Still on for lunch?”

You flash him a big smile and say, “Wouldn’t miss it, Munson!”

A freshman, who you think is called Dustin, stands next to Eddie wearing a face of utter shock and follows it by shoving him at his shoulders. The way Eddie follows it by slapping his hand away was like watching a slapstick comedy unfold in real time. Dustin waves his hand wildly in your direction before Eddie presses a hand to his face and you can’t help but laugh.

“Why do you do that?” Kelly pulls you in close before you enter the cafeteria.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you say dryly, already losing enough patience to your New York accent come out a little more as she corners you.

“Are you, like, being charitable or something?” Exasperation and a hint of embarrassment lace her tone as she continues.

“Come on, he is actually my friend,” you can’t hide your eyeroll, “not everything is a charity case, Kelly.”

“You need to be careful,” her voice gets sterner.

You cross your arms over your chest waiting for what she has to say next.

“You can’t keep leading him on like that. It’s cruel.”

“What?!”

This is news to you. You feel defensive for yourself and protective of Eddie. Kelly obviously has no clue what she’s talking about.

“I’m not leading him on.” You can feel your face contort into a scowl you can‘t hide. “Why would I do that to him?”

Kelly crosses her arms over her chest and raises one brow at you, “He’s so obviously into you. If you were really his friend, you’d do the right thing and let him down easy.”

“Whatever,” you scoff and quickly walk away, “I’m going to have lunch with my friend now.”

You rush through the lunch line, grabbing a salad and at the last-minute snatch a small bag of three cookies. After you pay for your lunch, you storm through the cafeteria until you find Eddie at the table where you always sit and plop your tray and yourself in front of him. You’re so annoyed that you don’t even start on your salad, you immediately grab a cookie and start breaking it into bite sized pieces to stuff in your mouth.

“Uh oh,” Eddie says, watching cautiously as you eat, “you got cookies, what happened?”

“Nothing,” you reply too quickly as you finish one cookie and turn your attention to your salad.

“Nope, nope, your face is saying something,” Eddie insists.

“Honestly,” you sigh, playing with the small vegetables in your meager excuse for a salad, “it’s just stupid dance team stuff.”

You are quiet not wanting to say anything more, especially with the Hellfire Club sitting with you. Eddie sees how you crawl further into your silence and gestures for the club to leave. The influence he has over them is formidable and you smile as you lean forward and rest your chin in your hand. A warm feeling of gratitude fills you as he presses his arms to lean forward over the table, ready to listen to whatever you choose to say.

“Kelly’s just being stupid and vapid—,” you begin with a sigh. “Do you even really care?”

“I mean don’t care much about her,” Eddie grimaces, “but it’s bothering you, so—”

“Ugh, it’s honestly just stupid high school shit,” you try to shake it off with a laugh. “What’s up with Dustin? I saw him shaking and shoving you earlier?”

“The boy has no idea of the nuances of being a fifth-year senior,” Eddie quips, “just a child trying to exist in the world of men. Freshmen, am I right?”

“That’s super generous of you to take him under your wing,” you add jokingly, feeling a little more relaxed.

“I know, right?” Eddie pauses for a moment as though he is deep in thought. “Hey, I’ve got a request to ask of you.”

“Lay it down on me,” you say, holding your palms up to beckon an answer.

“Well, if you’re offering,” Eddie tilts his head and raises a suggestive eyebrow at you.

“Perve,” you respond by swatting him lightly on the forearm when you realize the double entendre of the phrase.

He devolves into a cackle but is able to compose himself enough to return to the conversation.

“But in all seriousness, I’ve got a gig with my band late on Friday,” he pauses to take a breath, “would you come?”

“You forgot,” you whisper, something like disappointment settling in the pit of your stomach, “Eddie, it’s a big night on Friday, remember?”

“Shit, the championship, that’s right,” Eddie groans with the realization of a memory, “I’m supposed to be there, you already asked—because of your dance.”

“No, I got it,” you say, trying and failing to hide your disappointment. ”It’s ok if you can’t.”

What unsettles you even more is just how upset you are about it. Your dad isn’t going. Your dance team is already going to be there. The prospect of Eddie not going gnaws at you…hard. You barely have time to swim in the thought when Eddie taps your hand lightly with his and offers you a grin.

“Hey, I said I would be there so I’ll be there.” He assures you. “Might have to check out a little early, but I’ll be there. I get it if you can’t make it to the gig, though.”

“Shut up, Eddie,” you tap his hand much in the same way he had yours, “I may be a little late, but of course I’ll be there.”

***

The effervescent excitement seems to grow this Friday night with each passing minute that the Hawkins Tigers play. The team is ahead by just two points and every student, teacher, and parent in the stands claps, hoots, and hollers.

When halftime comes, you’re inexplicably nervous. Kelly can see it and she takes a hold of your hand with a determined but also reassuring smile.

“We’ve got this!”

You pace in a small bubble on the sidelines as you wait for the lights to lower and the musical cue to start. At the same time, you’re scanning through the crowded stands looking for Eddie. Your heart sinks when you can’t see him right away. It should be easy enough to spot him, you think, distracted enough to nearly jump in surprise when you feel a pair of hands gently pull you at your waist.

“Hey, big city girl!” It’s loud but he’s pulled you in close enough to say it near your ear.

You spin around and see the touch belongs to Eddie. On instinct you leap forward and wrap your arms around him in a tight embrace. It doesn’t happen immediately but you feel a warmth percolate in you when Eddie’s hands roam from your shoulders back down to your waist.

At nearly the same time both of you back away from each other and hold each other’s gaze for the briefest of moments. It puts you in a near panic. You’ve always known how to act around Eddie, but in an instant it almost all goes away. You push him towards the stands with a playful smile. He winks at you before finding a seat in the stands.

“Told you he has it down bad.”

You wave her off, keeping your focus on the energy of the game. The beat of the marching band, the noise in the crowd, and the excitement that Hawkins is only fifteen minutes away from possibly winning the championship fuels you as you dance. You and your team are perfectly in unison with every flip, turn, and jump. You do your best to keep your focus on the choreography but can’t help looking up in the stands every now then to see that Eddie’s eyes have not moved once from you. It makes you want to move more and better, playing up every flirty kick, every swing of your hips, and whip of your hair. And faster than it began, halftime is over. The crowd is roaring at the routine’s end and your team and other friends from the marching band surround you with hugs and high fives for a job well done. Your eyes hone in on Eddie who gives you a wave of his hand and a slight bow of his head. He runs and hops down the bleachers and you push past some of your teammates to get to him.

“That was badass,” Eddie exclaims as he sticks his tongue out, “as close to metal as dance can be.”

“Fuck yeah, I’ll take it,” you say as you raise your hand to meet his in a high five.

You place your hand on his shoulder and smooth it down the back of his jacket, rubbing his back. You didn’t realize how grateful you would feel that he actually showed up. His hand finds the small of your back, finding rest there. A tingling feeling that starts in your stomach takes you by surprise as it grows and makes your heart flutter

“Thank you for coming,” he squeezes your waist as you say it.

For a moment, you lean forward, bringing your face closer to his.

No. Don’t do it! What are you doing?

It’s what your voice screams at you inside your head. You swallow the feeling and smile at him, hoping you weren’t being as obvious as you feel you are.

“See you at the gig?” He sounds hesitant to leave, but you encourage him, ensuring him you will be there with a squeeze of his hand.

Instead of watching the rest of the game, you’re showering and getting dressed in the locker room. By the time you’re done you can hear the roar of the crowd: a clear indication that Hawkins has won the championship. Kelly rushes in as you put the finishing touches on your makeup.

“Oh my gosh!” She squeaks with excitement. “Where have you been?! You practically missed the entire second half!”

“Um, well, I promised Eddie I’d go to his gig.”

She looks at you up and down. Her perusal of you is especially scrutinizing. You pull at the shoulders of your black off the shoulder to and smooth your mini skirt before putting on your slouchy boots.

“You’re telling me that you’d rather watch a loser who’s repeating his senior year play with his mediocre band than hang out with us? You know there’s going to be a party.” She scoffs in disbelief. “How you are so popular is beyond me.”

“I don’t know, maybe it’s ‘cause I’m nice,” you answer. “You should try it some time.”

She rolls her eyes and you think she has nothing more to say so you gather your things to leave.

“You like him, don’t you?” She says it like it’s an accusation of a crime.

You stop at the door and take a deep breath. It feels like a relief when she says it.

“Maybe I do.”

You shrug and walk out the door, whatever celebrations that Hawkins bathes in, you know it’s not for you.

***

You pull your sedan up to a questionable looking bar and see Eddie’s van parked off to the side. It’s a different kind of grime than what you’re used to in New York. As you walk in you are hit instantly with the smell of cigarette smoke and cheap beer. There are a few scattered patrons passively listening to Corroded Coffin. Eddie’s back is to you, when he turns around, he’s holding a guitar pick in his mouth and his eyes brighten when he sees you. Your breath hitches when you look up at him on stage. The jeans he’s wearing are tighter than usual, as is his shirt. Your eyes can’t help but traverse his body from head to toe. There is a presence when he holds his guitar that you’ve not had the pleasure of beholding. He kneels at the edge of the stage and smiles, his dimple appearing like a cherry on top of a sundae.

“Jesus Christ, you’ve got a lot of nerve sweetheart,” his brown eyes sparkle as he smiles and looks at you up and down, “showing up to my show looking like that. Especially if you don’t mean it for me.”

Eddie and you have always skirted that flirting line. But tonight, even since the game, you can just feel the way he looks at you and the way he talks to you is just different. You lean forward at the edge of the stage and Eddie’s eyes travel so obviously over every curve of your body once again. You like it. You like the way he sees you. And more than anything, you like the feeling of wanting him.

“Come here,” you beckon him to come closer with a curl of your finger. “Who else would I do it for?”

He melts forward and you tug at the collar of his leather jacket, pressing your lips to his. He stumbles at first, not expecting for you to be so bold. But it doesn’t take long for him to part your lips with his tongue. You squeeze his face with your hand as you devour his supple lips in a long, messy kiss.

“Unexpected,” he murmurs after you let go of one another’s lips, “and even better than I imagined.”

You caress his face and use your thumb to wipe off a bit of your rosy-colored lip gloss that transferred to his lips from yours.

“Your lips are soft,” you sigh as you take in every feature of his handsome face and imprint it on your brain.

“Hey, don’t say that too loud, I’ve got a reputation to uphold,” he teases.

You shrug playfully and he shakes his head at you when he stands up. He pushes his guitar forward and keeps his eyes on you as he makes a few loud strums of his guitar. You barely pay attention to the lead singer as he announces whatever song they are going to play next. The amplified sound of the drums, bass, the rhythm guitar, and Eddie on lead guitar vibrates in your blood. You don’t even know how many songs they’ve been playing. It’s impossible to take your eyes off Eddie. The way his fingers move up and down the frets of his guitar simultaneously hypnotizes and awakens something deep inside you. You press your lips together, nearly biting your bottom lip as you stifle back a moan.

And he knows. He knows you’re watching him and wanting him. So, he taunts you by turning the neck of his guitar right at you. You give it back in the only way you know how at this moment: you play with your necklace, caress your bare collar bone, and draw your fingers down to your décolletage.

The band breaks for a moment and you watch as Eddie grabs a bottle of water on a stool at the back of the stage. The way his lips wrap around the mouth of the water bottle while keeping his eyes on you is obscene. A bit of water drips on his lips down to his chin where he wipes it away with a swipe of his thumb. You hold back another moan and hear the lead singer say something about playing a Black Sabbath song for their final encore. No Stranger to Love. It’s a favorite of Eddie’s. He plays the guitar solo as though it’s an extension of himself, his fingers pressing, gliding, and flicking at the strings. It has you quivering and dreaming about what his fingers would be like on and in you.

You find your way to a dark corner away from the stage as Eddie lingers there unplugging his guitar from the amp before placing it gingerly in its case. From your peripheral you see some young women eyeing him from another corner of the bar. He doesn’t even notice them as he hops down from the stage straight to you.

There is no judgement here as you pull Eddie to you by his belt loops. His full lips curl into an amorous smirk as he wraps his strong, large hands around your waist until they settle firmly on your ass. He acts like it’s his mission to drive you crazy. Your eyes do a cautionary sweep of the bar and when you see no one is watching you, you pull him with you into the ladies’ bathroom and lock the door behind you.

“Oh wow, it’s cleaner in here than the guy’s bathroom,” he notices before you back him into the wall, eliciting a carnal moan. “Fuck, woman.”

You silence him with a kiss and you bite his lips as you push his leather jacket off him and onto the floor. He squats a little and lifts and spins you until your back is against the wall.

“Tell me what you want,” he growls before kissing and nipping at your neck and ear.

His hands move all over your body from your ass, to your waist, through your hair as he devours your lips with his. A breathless moan escapes you as you try to get your brain to work so you can answer.

“Let me feel what your fingers can do, please…Eddie,” you whine, not caring how desperate you sound.

“Take off your panties,” he demands and it feels as though you can’t comply fast enough.

They settle beneath you on the floor as Eddie pushes your legs out wide and lifts up your skirt so his fingers can find your mound. His touches are slow at first tapping and pressing on your outer folds like they’re the frets of his guitar. And then it happens: he pushes one finger in and you gasp and keep your eyes on him, until you’re gasping again when he pushes in a second one.

“You are already so wet for me.” He moans into your ear and then forces you to keep your eyes on him.

You adjust to the thickness of his fingers and clench around them as he pushes them faster and faster inside you. His fingers find your clit and at first swipe of it, you cry out and grasp his arm to keep yourself from collapsing from the pleasure.

“That’s it, that’s it,” Eddie coaxes as you press your face to his, as he continues his ministrations: flicking, swirling, and rubbing your sensitive bud. “Come for me.”

New sounds bleed through the door. Another is band playing and you’re grateful for it. You can be a little louder. He feels too good to keep silent. He continues whispering in your ear to come, come, and come again. You nearly collapse on him when you do and you still muffle your moan by burying your face into his shoulder.

“Jesus,” you say with a sigh before you kiss him again.

He envelops you with his arms and you lean against him, your mini skirt still riding up. He pushes his hips towards you and you can feel his manhood straining against his jeans. It’s pulsing like a heartbeat against your thigh and you writhe against him as your center beats in response.

“I need you,” you moan into his ear. “Take it out.”

“Jesus, am I dreaming?” Eddie exhales as you cup your hand over his jeans. “Are you really sure?”

“It’s not my first rodeo, baby,” you whisper to him, licking and kissing his neck to his jaw and back to his lips.

“I don’t have a c—,” he stutters as you unbutton the top of his jeans.

“Don’t need it, I’m protected,” you assure him. “Please…Eddie.”

The sound of him unzipping and dropping his jeans to his ankles is almost as good as his guitar solo. You look down at him: uncut, slightly longer than average, and the perfect girth. He pushes forward and lifts your right leg high so your knee wraps around his waist. With a steady hand he lines himself up at your slick folds, giving you barely enough to think before he pushes deep inside you. All that leaves your lips is a wanton moan as he pushes you against the wall to leverage you a little higher. His hips rock slowly into you at first, like the crescendo of a guitar solo. His cock throbs and twitches with each thrust and you can’t help but squeeze him tight inside you. The breaths you both inhale and exhale, grow faster with the heat of your sex. He thrust faster, faster, and faster still as the sheer euphoria starts to take over you both.

“Oh shit, baby,” he groans as his thrusts become more desperate.

“Eddie!!” You whine as you bounce on his cock, wrapping your arms desperately around his shoulders and back digging your nails into his skin through his shirt. “Oh fu-fuck.”

He drives into you as hard as he can, his mouth dropping open as your pussy gives his cock one final squeeze. You let out one final cry when he spills into you, shaking and trembling with you in your final climax.

He stays inside you for a few moments and lets out a bittersweet gasp when he pulls out. He pulls up his underwear and pants, tucking his cock in still slick with you. He picks your panties off the floor and helps you back into them. But before he pulls them completely up, he traces the outside your folds pushing his cum even deeper inside. You let out a sensitive whimper and lean against him with one arm until he finally pulls your underwear up all the way.

“I want you to feel my cum in your panties when we walk out of here,” he growls.

You respond with an exhale and a smile before giving him another long, deep kiss. You smooth your skirt the best you can. When you see yourself in the mirror, you do what you can to comb your fingers through your wild hair and attempt to hide how blissed out you look. Eddie is putting his leather jacket back on and comes behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. You lean back against him and he leans his head towards yours.

“Beautiful, popular, talented, and kind,” Eddie whispers as he squeezes you even tighter before kissing you on the cheek, “What will everyone think if they find out you’re sleeping with Eddie Munson?”

You turn around and tug at the collar of his leather jacket.

“I wouldn’t exactly call that sleeping.”

His laugh rings out in his signature raspy, cackle you find so endearing. It’s so infectious you have to kiss him again.

“And besides, since when have I ever cared about what anyone ever thought about me or who I’m dating?”

“Well, that’s my girl in a nutshell, isn’t it?” Eddie confirms with a gleam of pride in his eyes.

“Only if it’s your nutshell.”

He can’t hold back the laughter and neither can you. After you are able to compose yourself, you hold a hand out and Eddie takes it. He laces his fingers between yours and you unlock the door to the bathroom. An ease settles over you as you open it. If there were any eyes of judgement on the other side, you know that you and Eddie will face it together.

#eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #eddie munson smut #joseph quinn characters #joseph quinn fandom

62 notes · View notes

fraugwinska · 1 year ago

Note

Could I get Alastor x Reader where he teaches her to swing dance in their room after they both talk about what was popular when they died as she comes from the current earth era so either 2010s or 2020s up to you!

Thank you so much if you write this and if you do not wish too that is totally okay! Have a wonderful day!

Aaaaaah, such a cute prompt! Of course I tried my hands on that, dear! I hope you'll like it!

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Going with the times

You flipped the page in the heavy photo album, laughing. „Oh look, that's from my first party as a university student!“ Alastor scrunched his nose. „These shoes are quite... scandalous, dear.“ „Hey, I was in my early twenties, everyone wore overknee boots.“ „That doesn't make them decent.“

You elbowed him, with playful annoyance. „Watch it, I don't make fun of your style choices!“ Alastor cocked a brow at you, grinning proudly. „That's because I always dressed with timless class and style, sweetheart.“ His gaze returned to the picture – You, arm in arm with your group of friends, in the midst of a club in the city you went to study for a degree you never used, since you died too young.

„What kind of establishment were you at, anyway? It looks awfully... modern.“

You rolled your eyes. You knew Alastor enough to know that when said 'modern', he really meant 'awful'. The only 'modern' thing Alastor didn't hate, was you.

„It's a dance club. Me and my girlfriends used to go almost every weekend, just dancing, having a good time and a few drinks.“

Alastor looked intrigued. „Oh? What style did you dance to? I always loved swing and jazz, but I do enjoy a good quick-Step too.“

You couldn't help but snicker – he truly didn't keep up with the times, that one.

„No, Al, no... that kind became very... formal. We just danced, you know? To hip hop, or electronica and clubhouse, like this!“

You hopped up from your bed, swaying your hips, lifting up your arms and bouncing to a beat only your could hear. He watched you, half amused and half horrified. He laughed and shook his head at your movements, so you stopped, hands flew on your hips and you rose your chin. „Okay old man, why don't you show me how you danced when you were young and wild?“

He was so quick, you didn't even see him moving when you already felt one arm around your waist, the other lifting your hand.

„Oh my dear, it's my pleasure to demonstrate what real dancing is all about!“

As only Alastor could do, an upbeat, jazzy song began to play from god knows where, and he began stepping sideways and forwards with you clumsily following him. With each stumble, he caught you with his reassuring, beaming smile, his patient guidance encouraging you to press on.

He truly had some energy to his step, spinning you every which way and having you laugh out loudly. After your first awkward steps, you found some kind of pattern to stick to, and your feet slowly but surely fell into his set rhythm without crushing his toes. He noticed that as well and chuckled, increasing the tempo and spinning you gleefully. „Bravo, darling, bravo! Now come, don't lose your flow, eyes on me! Excellent. A twist! Ha-ha-ha, marvelous, and again!“

You found yourself lost in the music and enjoying this way of dancing thoroughly, your heart beating as quick as your dancemoves. You felt warm and lightheaded in his arms as he moved with you, until the music ceased way too soon, and you two stood in the middle of your room, a bit out of breath and panting softly.

Alastor pushed a stray strand of hair from your face back behind your ears, grinning smugly.

"How about it, darling? You want to try that in your silly overknee boots?"

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #fraugwinskawrites #quick fic #alastor x reader

327 notes · View notes

lilahlovesjjk · 1 month ago

Text

🇼🇭🇪🇳 🇮 🇬🇷🇴🇼 🇺🇵

Chapter 2

synopsis: You and Satoru Gojo used to be inseparable—the kind of childhood best friends that promised to get married, rule the world, and never leave each other’s side.

Then life happened.

Now, years later, you’re both enrolled in the same elite psychology graduate program—only this time, you’re rivals. Gojo’s loud, flirty, obnoxiously charming, and infuriatingly good at everything. You're focused, sharp, constantly proving yourself—and desperate not to let the past (or him) throw you off course.

warnings: angst, slowburn (kinda), swearing, eventual nsfw, (i'll add to the list if I think of any more as the story progresses)

The classroom smells faintly of floor polish and anxiety.

It’s too early for the heating system to have kicked in properly, so a draft snakes in from under the windows, biting at your ankles and raising goosebumps along your arms. The room itself is clean but impersonal, with rows of sterile gray tables and plastic-backed chairs bolted to the floor in that “we value discomfort” kind of way. Fluorescent lights hum overhead, flickering just enough to be noticeable, and the projector screen at the front flashes through the rotating screensaver of a university-issued desktop—blue, black, blue, black.

You’re early today.

You claim your spot in the second row, middle seat, as you did yesterday. Close enough to see the board, far enough not to be a target for Dr. Yuki’s laser-focused questions. It's a sweet spot—the psychological equivalent of a security blanket.

There are maybe twenty-five students enrolled in this seminar. Psychology of Development and Attachment—a first-year graduate course notorious for being both rigorous and emotionally taxing. Most of your classmates drift in slowly, coffee cups clutched like lifelines, still shaking off the remnants of sleep or the residue of all-night reading marathons. You clock a few familiar faces: the girl with bubblegum-pink headphones and a massive laptop, the guy with the vintage band tees who never takes notes, and the duo in the back row who already whisper like they’re conspiring against the entire department.

You crack open your laptop, its screen casting a soft glow over your lined notebook and highlighter collection—color-coded, of course. The soft click of keys fills the space as you pull up your readings, double-check your notes, and reread your outline from the night before. You like being prepared. It’s your thing.

Still, your fingers twitch at the edges of the desk.

Your mind hums with leftover thoughts from yesterday’s lecture—your debate with Gojo still playing in a loop you didn’t ask for. You shake it off. Focus.

The second day of class is the real first day, anyway. Yesterday was syllabus skimming and awkward icebreakers. Today is where the work starts. You're ready for that.

At least, you thought you were.

The door swings open at exactly 10:04 a.m., and the temperature in the room seems to shift.

“Morning, my adoring fans,” comes the sing-song voice, smooth and self-assured.

You don’t even have to look. You already know.

Gojo Satoru strolls in like he owns the building, not just the classroom. Aviator sunglasses. Hair that looks styled by divine intervention—or a leaf blower. A single dangling earring glints against his pale neck. He’s holding two coffees from the café downstairs, one of them obnoxiously labeled with a heart drawn in marker.

You look down at your notes and pretend to read.

“Wow,” he says, sliding into the empty seat beside you—the only one left open, of course. “You really do keep choosing the same seat. Is it like a nesting thing? You imprint on desks?”

You don’t respond. Maybe if you pretend he doesn’t exist, he’ll disappear.

“Good morning to you too,” he adds, placing one of the coffee cups in front of you with a little flourish. “Black, two sugars. Still your thing?”

Your eyes flick up despite yourself.

“…How do you even know that?”

Gojo shrugs, pleased with himself. “Some things never change.”

You arch a brow. “And some things really should.”

He laughs, the sound bright and infuriating. “You wound me, really.”

The room fills a little more with students arriving late, chairs scraping against the floor and bags thudding against desk legs. Dr. Yuki still hasn’t arrived yet, which only gives Gojo more time to lean into your space, legs stretching out too far and arms braced too casually behind his head.

“You're early,” you mutter, lifting the coffee despite your instincts.

“I had to come early,” he says dramatically, “to emotionally prepare myself for being in your presence.”

You sip. It’s perfect. Of course it is.

You scowl into the cup. “Stop trying to bribe me.”

“Too late. I’m winning you over. You just don’t know it yet.”

He turns fully toward you, propping his chin in one hand as he studies you. “So, how was the rest of your day after our little intellectual showdown yesterday? Get mobbed by classmates asking for your autograph? Fan letters? Marriage proposals?”

“I don’t have to answer you.”

“Oh, but you want to.”

You roll your eyes, already regretting acknowledging his existence. “Why are you even here this early? You hate mornings.”

“I don’t hate mornings. I hate mornings without you.”

You nearly choke on your coffee.

“Jesus—stop saying things like that.”

He grins. “What? I’m being sweet.”

“You’re being annoying.”

“Those aren’t mutually exclusive.”

Before you can threaten to throw the coffee in his face, Dr. Yuki walks in, her stack of neatly organized papers in one hand and her tablet in the other. Conversation dips instantly into a hush as she sets everything down at the front.

Gojo leans in once more, just as she opens her laptop.

“You know,” he whispers, voice low enough that only you hear, “I missed this. You. Getting all worked up. It’s almost nostalgic.”

You glance at him.

But his gaze is on the front of the classroom, expression unreadable now—calm, casual, but distant in a way you recognize too well.

Your heart stutters, then steadies.

You turn back to your notes.

Let him play his little games. You’re here to work.

Dr. Yuki begins class the way she always does—by opening the floor to discussion.

“I want to start today by revisiting one of the core principles we touched on yesterday,” she says, walking to the whiteboard and uncapping a black marker. “Developmental psychology isn’t just about childhood—it’s about the impact of those early stages on the lifespan. So, let’s focus today on attachment theory.”

You straighten a little in your seat.

This was your jam.

“Can anyone tell me the main types of attachment outlined by Ainsworth?”

A few hands go up. Gojo, of course, is not one of them. He’s reclined like this is a brunch reservation and not a graduate seminar.

Dr. Yuki points to a girl near the windows, who lists off: “Secure, avoidant, ambivalent… and disorganized.”

“Correct,” Dr. Yuki nods, writing them out on the board. “And what kind of caregiving styles are associated with each?”

This time, your hand goes up.

“Secure attachment tends to come from consistent and responsive caregiving,” you say. “Avoidant is usually associated with emotionally distant caregivers. Ambivalent attachment is from inconsistent caregiving—like, when the child doesn’t know what to expect. And disorganized attachment often correlates with trauma, abuse, or extreme neglect.”

“Excellent,” Dr. Yuki says. “Now, let’s connect this to adult behavior. What kinds of patterns might we see in securely versus insecurely attached adults?”

Gojo raises his hand—slowly, dramatically—like it physically pains him to contribute.

“Securely attached adults usually have fewer trust issues, communicate well, don’t implode if their partner takes twenty minutes to reply to a text,” he says. “Whereas the rest of us,” he waves vaguely around the room, “are either emotionally avoidant, painfully anxious, or both.”

A few people chuckle. Dr. Yuki doesn’t.

“And do we think these patterns are fixed?” she asks, eyes scanning the room.

You shake your head. “No. They can change—therapy, healthy relationships, self-awareness… people can unlearn old patterns.”

“Right,” she says. “Attachment styles aren’t destinies. They’re roadmaps. And if we understand where someone started, we can better understand how they navigate relationships and life choices.”

She pauses, then gestures toward the projector.

“And that brings us to your semester project.”

You feel a low hum of tension run through the room.

“You’ll each be paired with a classmate to develop a case study that analyzes the developmental arc of a fictional subject—from early childhood experiences to adult psychological patterns. I’ll be looking for theoretical integration, relevant research, and creative application.”

Groans echo softly around the room.

“You’ll be assigned your partners. Randomly,” Dr. Yuki adds, like she knows everyone’s about to start bartering.

Gojo leans over. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“If you’re thinking you’re getting anyone but that guy in the back who keeps humming to himself, then no.”

Gojo grins. “Aren’t you fun before noon.”

You hush him as Dr. Yuki pulls up the list.

“...Gojo Satoru and,” she pauses just a second too long, “You.”

Your stomach drops.

You actually gasp—like a cartoon princess betrayed by her woodland creatures. Around you, the room buzzes with suppressed laughter and whispered commiseration.

You slowly turn your head toward him.

Gojo looks delighted.

“This,” he says, tapping your desk with mock gravity, “is fate.”

“This,” you hiss, “is my villain origin story.”

Dr. Yuki continues reading off names while you debate whether it’s legally permissible to launch a mechanical pencil into Gojo’s stupidly symmetrical face.

When the list ends, she claps her hands together.

“You’ll have the semester to build your case study, incorporating class material as it’s introduced. Use your time wisely. First drafts are due by midterms, presentations in November.”

The minute she shifts into lecture mode, Gojo turns to you fully, practically vibrating with smugness.

“So, partner,” he says, and oh god, he draws out the word like it means something filthy, “ground rules?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Fine. Rule one: you show up. On time.”

“I always show up. Eventually.”

“On time, Gojo.”

“Fine, but then I get a rule. Rule two: all meetings must be caffeinated. Preferably with scones.”

You type it into a shared doc, already plotting your revenge. “Rule three: no flirting during brainstorming.”

His brows shoot up. “You flatter me. You think I flirt?”

“You flirt like it’s a personality trait.”

He grins. “It is a personality trait. And it works on you.”

You type Rule Four: Delusional behavior will not be tolerated.

Gojo reads it over your shoulder and makes an offended noise. “You’re so mean to me.”

You look at him flatly. “You're not the victim here.”

“Yet.”

He taps the table once, then leans back. “So how are we splitting the workload? Because I’m very good at coming up with names, titles, and being handsome while you do the actual research.”

“Rule Five,” you mutter. “Equal contribution or I smother you in your sleep.”

“Sexy.”

You slam your laptop shut.

Dr. Yuki finishes her lecture around ten minutes later and assigns some optional reading before dismissing the class. Students start filtering out. You stand and gather your things, acutely aware of Gojo still hovering nearby like a very smug cloud.

He’s unusually quiet, though.

You glance over. His eyes are on you—not teasing, not mocking. Just watching.

“What?”

He blinks, then offers a crooked smile. “Nothing. Just… you’ve changed.”

You pause.

You’re not sure what to do with that. The weight of it. The flicker of something old behind his eyes.

“I grew up,” you say, not quite meeting his gaze.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Guess we both did.”

The moment stretches awkward and thin.

And then, because he’s incapable of not being him, Gojo ruins it.

“But you still get that same wrinkle between your eyebrows when you’re concentrating. Very cute.”

You push past him. “I’m going to my next class. Don’t follow me.”

He salutes. “No promises, partner.”

You slide into your seat in criminology with seconds to spare, breath still catching from the uphill trek across campus. The classroom is smaller than your psych lecture—maybe twenty students total, arranged in a semi-circle with wide, cushioned chairs that squeak every time someone shifts. You love it here already. It feels like the kind of room where real conversations happen.

Shoko’s already lounging beside you, wearing a faded hoodie that reads “Trust Me, I’m Almost a Doctor” and sipping from an aggressively large thermos of tea. She raises a brow as you drop into the chair beside her with a dramatic sigh.

“You okay?” she asks, blinking at you over the rim of her drink.

“Fine,” you say quickly, digging out your notebook. “Just… psych was a lot this morning.”

“You’re always saying that. Was it more Freud or more breakdown?”

You pause. “Gojo.”

“Who?”

You glance at her, surprised. “Tall. White hair. Looks like he was genetically engineered to model sunglasses. The guy I was trauma dumping about last night”

Shoko frowns, thoughtful. “Oh, right. You know I think he sits near Geto in seminar sometimes?”

“Yeah, they’re roommates,” you say, a little sour. “Gojo’s basically made it his life mission to turn every conversation into a sparring match.”

Shoko snorts. “Sounds exhausting.”

“Infuriating, actually.”

Before she can ask more, Suguru Geto strolls in like he’s not even two minutes late. Calm, composed, mildly amused as always. He drops into the seat on Shoko’s other side and gives you both a polite nod.

“Morning.”

“Hey,” Shoko replies easily.

“Hi,” you say, a little stiffer.

Geto gives you a small look—reading you, as always. “Rough start?”

“Just sparring with your roommate.”

“Ah,” he says, smiling faintly. “He does have a talent for bringing chaos into a room.”

“Does he come with an off-switch or…?”

Geto chuckles softly. “Not that I’ve discovered.”

Before any of you can continue, Professor Ibaragi strides into the room, her usual commanding presence immediately quieting the class. She’s tall, in her late forties maybe, with sleek silver hair pinned back and sharp eyes that miss nothing.

“Let’s begin,” she says, setting a thick folder on the front desk. “Today we’re looking at the contrasts between retributive and restorative justice. Page 104 in your readers.”

The rustle of pages follows.

You flip yours open, your pen already poised.

Professor Ibaragi continues, her tone firm and even. “Retributive justice is what most of the western world operates on. Punishment for a crime—often prison. But what if we shifted the focus from punishment to healing? Restorative justice aims to mend the harm caused by crime, rather than simply punish the offender.”

A few hands go up. The class starts to come alive—soft murmurs turning into more confident voices.

One student mentions a case study from New Zealand.

Another references the Rwandan Gacaca courts.

Geto chimes in with a thoughtful observation: “It’s hard to implement restorative practices in a society still emotionally invested in the idea of punishment equaling justice. There’s a psychological satisfaction in seeing someone 'pay' for wrongdoing.”

You nod in agreement, then raise your hand. “But studies have shown that restorative approaches can reduce recidivism more effectively than prison in some populations. Especially for juvenile offenders or non-violent crimes. The emotional impact of accountability is different when you have to face the person you hurt.”

Professor Ibaragi gives a small nod. “Excellent point. It forces reflection, which isn’t always a priority in traditional systems.”

Shoko, to your surprise, pipes up with a casual, “Plus, it doesn’t hurt to spend less on overcrowded prisons and more on mental health programs. Just saying.”

That earns a few approving hums around the room.

After about thirty more minutes of discussion, Professor Ibaragi closes the book with a decisive snap. “You’ll be working on a presentation later this term, applying one of these theories to a real-world case. We’ll talk about partner assignments next class.”

Your stomach sinks. Partners. Again.

As students begin to gather their things, Shoko leans in. “So, I was thinking we do something after classes tonight. Hot pot night or something?”

“I’m in,” you say instantly. “I need something to cancel out Gojo’s existence.”

“You really don’t like this guy, huh?” she asks, amused.

“He wasn’t always like this,” you say before you can stop yourself.

Shoko tilts her head, waiting.

You shake it off. “Never mind.”

Geto stands, slinging his bag over one shoulder. “He’s not that bad, you know.”

You give him a look. “You would say that. You live with him.”

“I also know he talks about you more than he talks about his skincare routine. And that’s saying something.”

Your jaw drops slightly. “Excuse me?”

Geto just smiles. “See you both tonight.”

And with that, he’s gone—leaving you to process whatever the hell that meant while Shoko whistles low under her breath.

“Alright,” she says, amused. “I’m officially intrigued.”

You’re halfway through applying lip gloss when Shoko pops into your doorway wearing a full-on Pikachu onesie, a green tea face mask smeared across her cheeks.

“Should I wear this tonight?” she asks, holding up a red crop top and leather mini skirt with the deadpan seriousness of a war general.

You glance at her outfit-in-hand, then back at the yellow fuzz monstrosity she’s currently in. “That’s… better than what you’re wearing now.”

She grins, pleased, and flops backward onto your bed like she owns it. “I’m not even gonna lie—tonight better be fun. I’ve had ‘student loans and caffeine addiction’ energy all week.”

“You are a med student,” you say as you turn back to your mirror. “That kind of comes with the territory.”

Shoko groans dramatically. “I didn’t come here to be roasted while my pores are open.”

You snort, making a final swipe of your gloss and giving yourself a critical once-over in the mirror. Okay. Not bad.

Not bad at all.

Black heeled boots, jeans that fit just right, and a strappy little top that shows just enough skin to look effortless without trying too hard. Hair curled, makeup sharp. You look like someone who has her life together—even if internally, you’re bracing for the potential chaos that always seems to follow you around lately.

“Damn,” Shoko whistles from your bed. “You’re giving main character energy tonight.”

You turn, striking a mock pose. “As I should.”

She finally peels off the onesie and grabs her real outfit, hopping into her room to change while you touch up your highlighter. Your phone buzzes on the nightstand.

Geto: on our way. ETA 10 🖤

You smile slightly. Of course Geto texts like that.

There’s something soothing about Geto. He’s calm, thoughtful, never oversteps. He’s the type of guy who listens when you talk—and not the performative kind of listening, either. He’s actually… normal. Which, in your world lately, is the highest compliment a man can get.

You move into the living room just as Shoko reappears, now dressed and glowing—smoky eye, winged liner, black boots to match yours, and a wicked little smile.

“Ready to break hearts and maybe get free appetizers?”

You grin. “Born ready.”

You both are still doing last-minute primping when there’s a knock at the door. Three short taps.

“That’s probably Geto,” Shoko says, already moving toward the entrance. “I’ll get it.”

“Wait—” you start, but she’s already flinging the door open.

There’s a pause. An eerie silence.

Then Shoko’s voice, dry as sandpaper: “Oh. Hi. You’re not Geto.”

That voice—his voice—floats in next. “Technically, I’m with Geto. I just drove.”

You freeze in place.

No. No way.

You step forward just enough to peek past Shoko’s shoulder—and sure enough, there he is.

Gojo Satoru, in all his smug glory.

Wearing a fitted black long-sleeve shirt that clings to his frame a little too perfectly, sleeves pushed up just enough to show off his forearms, and those damn sunglasses propped lazily on top of his head. His snowy white hair is slightly tousled from the wind, like he just stepped out of a cologne ad. And he's holding car keys, spinning them on his finger like a menace.

Behind him, Geto stands calmly with his hands in his pockets, giving you a soft smile and an apologetic shrug. “He offered to drive.”

You blink at him. “He?”

Gojo winks. “Miss me?”

Shoko looks between the two of you like she’s slowly realizing she’s walked into a romantic subplot she didn’t sign up for.

You inhale deeply. “This was supposed to be a chill night.”

Gojo beams. “It still can be. I only bite if asked nicely.”

Shoko makes a face. “Okay. Ew.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose and step back. “Let’s just… go before I change my mind.”

You grab your jacket and clutch, pulling the door closed behind you as the four of you head out into the cool evening air. The street is quiet, the kind of stillness that only comes before something definitely chaotic.

Sitting at the curb is a sleek black car that you now realize is Gojo’s. Of course it is. It’s obnoxiously expensive-looking, just like him.

He clicks the fob and the lights flash.

“Shotgun,” you say quickly, if only to avoid being crammed between the two of them in the backseat.

“Damn,” Shoko mutters. “I wanted front seat DJ privileges.”

“Next time,” you promise, stepping up to the passenger side.

Gojo opens your door for you with a dramatic bow, like he’s your chauffeur. “Milady.”

You glare. “If I trip in these heels, I’m taking you down with me.”

“Noted,” he says, but his grin only widens.

As you slide into the seat, you’re painfully aware of how close you’ll be for the next however-many minutes. His cologne is warm and spicy, something expensive you can’t place but absolutely hate that you like. He rounds the front and hops into the driver’s seat like he owns the road.

Geto and Shoko pile into the backseat, immediately starting a quiet conversation about some upcoming criminology project you vaguely remember from class.

Meanwhile, you buckle in, arms folded, refusing to acknowledge the man beside you.

Gojo glances over. “So…”

You don’t look at him. “Don’t.”

“You look very… coordinated tonight,” he says, trying not to smirk. “Let me guess. Took you three hours to put that outfit together?”

You turn slowly. “Five minutes.”

“Liar.”

You narrow your eyes. “I could say the same about your hair. What happened, did a tornado style it?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he purrs, one hand on the wheel, the other resting near the gearshift. “You wish you looked this good after a tornado.”

You scoff, staring out the window. “Unbelievable.”

“Also,” he says, flicking on the headlights, “you’re wearing my favorite color tonight.”

You blink. Slowly.

“It’s literally black,” you deadpan.

He grins. “Exactly.”

You clench your jaw, pretending your face isn’t heating up.

The car eases onto the road, the low hum of the engine a welcome distraction. You steal a glance at Gojo from the corner of your eye—he’s focused on driving, one hand casually gripping the wheel, the streetlights casting sharp shadows across his sharp jawline.

You hate how good he looks like this. Relaxed. Confident. Just enough of a mess to look effortless.

“Hey,” Shoko says from the backseat, leaning forward between the seats. “Can we get dumplings on the way? I’m starving.”

“Ugh, yes,” Geto agrees. “There’s a spot on 5th. Open late.”

Gojo nods. “You got it.”

Shoko settles back. “Okay. Gojo, you’re tolerable only if you drive well.”

“I’m an amazing driver,” he says confidently.

Geto scoffs. “You ran a red light last time we went anywhere.”

“Okay, but did we die?”

“You almost hit a trash truck.”

“But did we die?”

Geto coughs. “Barely.”

Gojo hums. “Tough crowd.”

As the car speeds down the street, your hand accidentally brushes against the console near Gojo’s. You pull it away like it burned, which—honestly—might be the most accurate metaphor for him in general.

He notices, of course. “Aw. I don’t bite, you know.”

You shoot him a side-eye. “You do. Constantly. Verbally.”

“Only because you’re cute when you’re mad.”

You pause. The air seems to thicken.

From the backseat, Geto quietly chuckles. Shoko mutters something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like, oh my god just kiss already, and you immediately whip around.

“I heard that.”

She shrugs, all innocent. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Anyway,” you say quickly, shifting in your seat and focusing very intently out the windshield, “let’s just get food.”

“Music to my ears,” Gojo says, reaching for the stereo. “What’s the vibe tonight? Flirty sad girl? Raging confidence? Chaotic neutral?”

Shoko answers before you can. “Anything but loverboy nonsense.”

He grins. “Too late.”

The opening notes of some slow, sultry R&B song filter through the speakers.

You bury your face in your hands. This is going to be a long night.

But maybe… not entirely in a bad way.

(taglist: comment if you want to be added )

@linaaeatsfamilies

@eolivy

#jjk #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #jjk angst #jjk fluff #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen shoko #geto #gojo #jjk shoko #jjk geto

57 notes · View notes