#the universe literally picked the worst time | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

incognit0slut · 4 months ago

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PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3| PART 4

Behind Closed Doors 4

Your frustration over his broken promise melts away as soon as he calls, and you find yourself unexpectedly drawn to his voice, more than you anticipated.

Warnings: (18+, MDNI) Phone sex, mutual (and guided) masturbation, dirty talk ~4.7k words

A/n: this is just me wishing he was on quinn😔 anyway enjoy part 4, this mini series is not dead (i don’t even know how long it will be but let’s just celebrate that I’m finally updating)

All men do is lie, you thought as you flopped onto your bed.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t entirely his fault—but you weren’t in the mood to be reasonable. You remembered that car ride vividly. He had promised you more time together, a moment to finally be alone. Instead, what did you get? A new case, then another, and amidst all the chaos and dodging bullets (literally and metaphorically), you two somehow managed to drift apart.

The past few weeks had been the busiest since you started working at the BAU, and that was saying a lot, considering there was never really a moment of peace when you worked for the government. But this time was different, it seemed even more chaotic than usual. Every time you thought of bringing up the conversation with him—or maybe sneak in a little make-out session—something urgent would come up.

There was never the right time, or the right moment. It felt as if the universe had other plans for you, and none of them involved the two of you getting a moment alone. And before you knew it, you were caught in this maddening cycle of missed opportunities, and the worst thing was, you were sexually frustrated.

This time, you had no one else to blame but him. Ever since he came into the picture, your carefully maintained self-control had started to slip, and now, despite your best efforts, you couldn’t ignore the growing need between your legs. It was aching, throbbing, and even the thought of him was making you hot and restless.

How did he manage to do that? He wasn’t even trying. There was nothing overtly seductive in the way he moved or spoke, and yet every glance, every accidental touch, seemed to affect you. Spencer. Just his name made your breath hitch, your body betraying you. You weren’t proud to admit this, but the mere thought of his fingers brushing your skin had you feeling that first rush of arousal slipping into your panties.

You huffed, considering digging out your pink silicone toy hidden somewhere in your drawer. And while you were contemplating this, knowing it had been a while since you last used it because nothing could compare to the feeling of his touch now, your phone on the bedside table rang.

Maybe the universe was really testing you, because his name flashed across the screen and it took a lot of self-control for you not to pick up on the first ring and demand him to fuck you right there and then, which sounded too crass when you weren’t in the middle of straddling his lap like the last time. So instead, you decided to wait until the sixth ring before you answered with a curt, “Hey.”

There was a pause, then a sigh. “You’re mad at me.”

Could he tell? Of course, he could. He always had an uncanny ability to read you, even over the phone. “Mad? Why would I be mad?”

“I can almost see you rolling your eyes.”

“I never roll my eyes,” you shot back.

“You rolled your eyes last week when Luke tried to tell us that his dog could sniff out bodies better than our trained ones.”

You suppressed a smile, surprised that he even noticed you giving Luke a once-over at that particular moment. “That was because his dog chases its tail more than it chases leads.”

"And I'm not worthy of an eye roll?"

“Honestly, you deserve more than an eye roll,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

"So you are mad,” he stated, growing quiet for a while. “I’m sorry.”

And now you felt bad. You ran a hand through your hair, trying to clear your thoughts. “It’s not your fault.”

“I know, but it doesn’t make me feel any less better.”

You felt a pang of guilt as you stared at the ceiling. It wasn’t exactly fair to blame him. Serial killers, unfortunately, didn’t come with a schedule, and now Spencer was already on his leave. You recalled the excitement in his voice when he told you about the seminars Emily had arranged for him to teach. He had spoken with an enthusiasm you hadn’t heard in a long time, his eyes practically lighting up every time he mentioned it.

How could you be upset about that?

"I'm not... mad.”

There was a slight teasing note in his voice as he replied, "Just annoyed then?"

You held back a smile. "Maybe a little."

“Anything I can do to help with that?” His voice softened through the phone. “Is there any way I can make it up to you?”

Your thoughts immediately went to the sticky situation between your legs, and you felt a flush of embarrassment. Technically, he could help with that. But could you say that? Should you?

"I don’t know, depends on what you have in mind,” you replied, trying to steer your mind away from the direction it was heading. There was a pause, a silence that hung in the air as he carefully considered his next words.

"I could… start by telling you how much I miss you?”

Now that, you didn’t expect. Your heart fluttered wildly in your chest. Spencer had never really acknowledged his feelings with words when his actions spoke volumes, but hearing him say it out loud made the emotions between you feel undeniably real. It was as if his words shattered whatever platonic friendship the two of you had built over the past years.

Although you knew your friendship had fundamentally changed the moment he had you pinned on the desk that fine afternoon, it didn’t stop you from questioning about where you truly stood.

"You miss the idea of me," you corrected him, unable to resist yourself.

“You know that’s not true,” he replied gently.

“Do I?”

“Yes, you know me better than that,” he insisted. “You’re a great profiler, you can tell if I’m not being honest.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, despite trying to stay mad at him. "You hate being profiled.”

"That was before I realized how useful your skills are in deciphering my feelings.”

“You know I’d rather you tell me how you feel.”

“I did, I miss you, and you chose not to believe me.”

Your cheeks actually ached from smiling too much. You couldn’t help but feel a warm, tingling sensation spread through you. “Fine,” you sighed, finally giving in. “I believe you.”

“And?”

You rolled onto your side. “And what?”

“Do you not miss my absence at work?”

“Well…”

“Well?” He prompted.

Now how could you tell him you missed more than just his presence? How could you admit that you missed the way he made you feel, the way his breath felt hot against your skin, without sounding obvious or too needy? Because you missed everything about him. His hands, his lips, his tongue—oh dear god, his tongue.

Spencer suddenly called out your name, and you forced yourself to focus, feeling your heartbeat quicken as you cleared your throat.

“Yes, I—I miss you,” you finally admitted.

There was a pause, then his voice came through, lighter, teasing. “Why do you sound like that?”

“…like what?”

“Like you’re out of breath.”

You gripped the sheets tightly, the fabric bunching under your fingers. How could you even begin to explain this to him now that he was onto you? You felt like you were on the verge of a full-blown emotional meltdown. God, if he knew how many times you’d replayed every kiss, every touch, in your mind, he’d never let you live it down.

It was almost laughable, really. Here you were, trying to keep it together, and failing miserably. “It’s just… I really, really miss you.”

“You really miss me? Are you trying to say something?”

You hesitated, your mind scrambling for the right words without revealing too much. “No…?”

“Mhm,” he replied, clearly unconvinced. “You’re not telling me everything.”

You gripped the phone tighter. “I’m just saying... It's hard without you here. You know, in every way.”

“In every way?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling both embarrassed and mortified. “I just... I miss how you make me feel. Physically.”

“Physically?” he pressed. “Can you elaborate?”

“I’m... you know, I’ve been... missing certain things. Certain... activities.”

“Certain activities,” he repeated your words once again. It was then that you realized he was teasing you, clearly enjoying your discomfort a little too much. “You mean like... talking?”

“No. More like... the other stuff we do when we’re alone.”

"I don't understand."

At that point, your embarrassment was gnawing at you. You wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out. “God, Spencer, don’t make me say it,” you groaned, burying your face in your pillow.

“Come on, I need a little more than that.” He sounded both amused and curious. “I’m just making sure I understand you right.”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” you muttered into the pillow, your voice muffled but still clear enough for him to hear.

“Actually, I don’t think I do. You could be missing so many things, you have to help me out here.”

You turned your head to the side, exasperation coloring your tone. “Spencer…”

"Yes?" he responded innocently.

"You’re really going to make me say it, aren’t you?”

"I find precise communication to be very important.”

You let out a groan, feeling the last of your restraint crumble. “Alright! Fine!” you snapped. “I’m horny, okay? And it’s all your fault!”

His laughter rang through the phone, and you could almost see the grin spreading across his face. “My fault?"

"Yes! I feel like a deprived, horny teenager here, and I just…”

You trailed off, hardly believing you had actually said that out loud. The realization hit you like a wave, and for a moment, you wished you could take it back. There was a pause that seemed to stretch on forever and you wondered if you had gone too far.

He finally broke the silence, breathing out your name in a way that made your skin tingle. "You could've told me from the start."

You could, but you’d rather not.

"I didn't want to sound desperate."

"You can be desperate with me,” he said softly. “Just say the word and I’ll give you anything you want.”

If there was one thing Spencer was good at, it was getting under your skin. He really shouldn’t be saying those words, not now, not when it was making you crave him even more. You swallowed, feeling a tightness in your chest, a knot in your stomach. The part of you that always played it safe wanted to retract, to laugh it off as a joke. But then there was that other part, the part that craved his attention, the part that was tired of holding back.

“Tell me, what do you want now?”

You took a deep breath and laid on your back, the words catching in your throat. You felt your pulse quicken.

“I want… you.”

“Tell me how you want me.”

Your fingers trailed over the sheets, your touch light as you imagined it was him beneath your fingertips. “Spencer…”

“Come on,” he pressed. “Tell me.”

You paused, your heart pounding in your chest. You could almost imagine him right in front of you, staring at you with those beautiful brown eyes that always managed to make you melt, coaxing words from you that you barely dared to think, let alone speak.

Just say it. He's waiting. He wants to hear it.

Your hand began to move.

“I… I want your hands on me.”

“Where do you want my hands?”

“Everywhere,” you whispered, your fingers grazing your body as if they were his. You closed your eyes.

“Everywhere?”

You found yourself nodding even though he couldn’t see you.

“On my hips…”

Your hand danced across your hips.

“My stomach…”

Your palm slipped under your shirt, moving slowly up your abdomen, feeling the warmth of your own touch and wishing it was his.

“Between my thighs…”

You paused at the hem of your panties, the only barrier beneath your shirt, hesitating as a flush of warmth spread through you. The line was silent for a moment, save for the sound of his breathing—a soft, heavy rhythm that matched the pounding of your own heart.

“Where else do you want me?”

Your fingers dipped inside the fabric. “I want you lower…”

“Tell me exactly where.”

“Where I’m most sensitive,” you confessed, the words slipping out before you could stop them. Your thighs instinctively squeezed together, hips rolling gently as your free hand began to drift south. “Spencer… please…”

“Are you touching yourself?”

“I…”

“Are you?”

“No…”

“Do you want to touch yourself?”

You licked your lips, your breath coming faster. “Maybe.”

“Then do it, no one’s stopping you.”

You hesitated, the reality of the situation sinking in. You couldn’t believe this was happening, that you were having this conversation with him. "This feels so naughty.”

"Naughty can be nice, though, right?" he assured you. "Don't think about it too much. It’s just you and me.”

There really was something about his voice, the way it effortlessly wrapped around you—smooth, coaxing, almost hypnotic. Despite the hesitation that tugged at your mind, your hand began to move lower, and your legs parting involuntarily. A soft gasp escaped your lips when your hand flew right to your pussy, fingers quickly tracing the length of your folds. You were already wet, and you began to spread your arousal towards your clit.

“Spencer…” you whined, feeling the sudden rush of sensations.

“Keep going,” he urged. “Tell me what you feel.”

You closed your eyes. “It feels… good…”

“Describe it to me.”

You took a shaky breath, trying to find the words through the haze of pleasure. “It’s warm and wet… and…”

And you wished he was the one touching you.

You let your mind drift to your fantasy. You imagined it was his fingers circling your clit. You imagined his lips against yours, the way they would move together. You imagined him whispering these words right in front of you, his eyes locked on yours as you writhed beneath him. The fantasy felt so vivid that for a moment, you could almost feel his weight pressing down on you, his presence enveloping you completely.

Your imagination urged you to move faster, but you felt limited by the fabric in the way. You called out his name. “Can I… can I take my, um, underwear off?”

You could almost hear the smile in his voice as he replied, “Of course you can.”

You put your phone down, and with trembling fingers, you slid the fabric down your legs. You discarded them quickly and turned the call to speaker before you settled back on the bed. Your hand returned to your body, fingers brushing over your sensitive skin. You parted your legs even wider, and as your fingers found their rhythm, a moan escaped you.

“Better?”

You sighed in relief as you continued to rub your clit. “So much better.”

“Keep it slow, okay? We don’t want to rush.”

His voice was low and soothing, and you couldn’t believe how just by his voice he had gotten you so worked up.

“Now press a little harder.” You complied, applying a bit more pressure on your clit. "Right there. Do you feel that?"

"Yes," you gasped, your back slightly arching off the bed.

“I wish I could see you right now," he murmured. “I'd kiss you where you're touching.”

You let your imagination take over. You pictured him with his head right between your thighs, his eyes locked on yours with those intense, pretty eyes. You imagined his mouth moving over your clit, sucking gently while his fingers explored between your folds. The thought was so vivid, so real, that you could almost feel his warm breath against your skin.

The mental image of him looking up at you was almost too much to bear. “Spencer…”

"Keep going. Are your fingers wet?" You could simply moan back a reply, not trusting your own voice. “Now slowly slide in one. Can you do that for me?”

You did as he said, sliding a finger into your wetness. You could feel how tight you were, the slick warmth of your arousal enveloping your skin. You looked down between your legs and watched as you pleased yourself. It wasn’t exactly an unfamiliar sight. You had done this countless times before, but never with the voice of a man guiding you, especially Spencer—the last person you’d imagine doing this with.

Yet look at how much effect he had on you.

"You're quiet," his voice suddenly came through. "Are you still with me?"

"Yes," you managed to whisper. "It's just... a lot."

"In a good way, I hope?"

“Very good,” you assured him.

You could practically picture the corner of his lips twitching into a proud smile. “Good,” he recited. “Now try adding another finger.”

You couldn't help a moan escaping your lips as you pushed in your middle finger, the sound louder than you intended.

"How does that feel?"

"Full," you breathed out, adjusting to the sensation.

“Yeah? I bet you’re so tight.”

You were, awfully so. Your walls clenched around your fingers, almost swallowing them as you started to move them in a steady rhythm. The pleasure built in your lower stomach, a warm, coiling tension that made you desperate for more. You needed his voice, you craved his guidance, even from afar.

“Spence…” you whined. “Keep talking, please.”

“You want me to describe how I’d touch you if I were there?”

You moaned in response, the sound escaping your lips involuntarily, urging him to continue.

“If I were there,” he began, his voice low, “I’d start by kissing you slowly.”

You could almost feel it, his lips on yours, his tongue probing inside your mouth.

“I’d move lower,” he continued. “Kiss your neck, your collarbone… while my fingers would move along your hips, your thighs, getting closer and closer to where you need me most.”

You whimpered, your fingers moving faster as you followed his vivid description, imagining his touch guiding you.

“I’d tease you, brush my fingers right at your entrance,” he whispered. “Then, I’d slip them inside you, just like you’re doing now.”

Your breaths came in short gasps.

“I’d spread your legs wide,” he continued again, and you heard a faint rustling noise in the background. “I’d move my fingers in… and… out...”

Your legs fell further apart.

“I’d curl my fingers the same way I did that day,” he went on. “Do you remember?”

How could you not? It never truly left your mind. You could picture that day clearly, the feeling of his fingers and mouth working on your sensitive spot seemed to linger in your memory.

“I’d do the same thing that you like,” he proceeded, and you focused on his voice. “I’d lean in close… licking you… sucking you.”

You moaned loudly as the image of his mouth on your clit flashed through your mind. You could almost feel the way he would sloppily lap at you, drinking in every drop of your arousal with each eager flick of his tongue.

“Go faster for me,” he urged. “I-I want to hear how wet you are.”

You followed his words, and the slick sounds of your arousal filled the quiet around you as you imagined him there, his fingers replacing yours. You could hear more noise through the line, the subtle rustle of clothes moving, the faint sound of his breathing growing heavier before he let out a low grunt.

“You make the prettiest sounds,” he breathed out. “Now add another finger.”

Your eyes narrowed into a frown, trying to slip a third finger in but the stretch was too intense for you to continue. “I-I can’t.”

“Shh, it’s okay,” he soothed. “Just take it slow. Try to relax.”

You took a deep breath, trying to follow his instructions. You slowly eased in another finger, feeling the awkward stretch but the initial discomfort quickly faded into a deeper pleasure, and you moaned softly.

“Oh, fuck.”

“There you go,” he encouraged. “Feel that? Feel how full you are?”

You hummed a reply.

“That’s how I want you to feel when I’m finally inside you.”

A whine left your lips. In your head, you saw him, his body poised above yours, his cock sliding smoothly into you. You imagined the slick, rhythmic motion, the way each thrust would fill you, stretching you, overwhelming you. You cried out a filthy moan at the thought, unabashed and desperate, as you began to pump your fingers inside your cunt.

“Push deeper for me… I know you can take it.”

You gasped, pushing your fingers as deep as they could go. “I can’t… I need… oh…”

“I know, I know,” he whispered. “You need more. You need me inside you, don’t you?”

“Spencer, please…” you begged, your voice breaking into desperate, choked sobs.

“You want that? You want to feel me stretch you?”

“Yes, yes…” you managed to moan out, your movements became more desperate.

“God, you’d be so tight around me… I’d have your legs spread wide so I… I-I could see how perfect you’d take me.”

You could almost feel his hands on your hips, his body pressing against yours, filling you completely. Your fingers moved frantically, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as you felt the tension building to an unbearable peak.

“You’d pull me closer, wouldn’t you? You’d ask for more, like you always do, and I’d give it to you,” he promised. “I’d give it to you so hard… s-so deep…”

And that was when you heard it—the unmistakable sound of wetness, like skin sliding over slick, damp skin. The sound was filthy, making your pulse race as you wondered what he might be doing on the other end of the line. Your voice trembled as you slowly asked him, “Spence, are you…?”

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end before he let out a soft, almost sheepish laugh, as if you had caught him red-handed. “I… yeah,” he admitted, his voice breathless and strained. "Do you know how hard it is not to when listening to your voice?"

Your fingers subconsciously quickened at his confession, their movements becoming more urgent as you imagined him laying on his own bed, hand wrapped around his cock. You bit your lip to stifle your moans as you whispered, “Tell me what you’re doing.”

His breathing grew ragged, his words coming in clipped bursts. “I’m… I’m touching myself…”

You tried to focus on his voice, but the sound of his sloppy strokes began to echo louder. “Tell me more.”

“I’m… I’m rubbing… my fingers over the head,” he gasped, and you curled your fingers deeper, using your palm to grind against your clit. The way he sounded so lost in his pleasure, unable to hold back, had you imagining him stroking himself. You pictured yourself doing it for him, remembering how it felt that day when you had his cock in your hand—the weight, the warmth, the way he looked at you through intense eyes.

Your breathing grew heavier, louder, and his voice cracked with a strained moan as he whispered, “Can you lower your phone?”

You fumbled with the device, bringing it closer to where your fingers worked tirelessly between your legs. “Like this?”

“God, yes,” he groaned, the sound of his strokes growing faster and more urgent. “You sound so perfect.”

You let out a soft cry, your fingers thrusting in and out of your cunt frantically as you imagined him watching you, listening to every sound you made. The wet, slick noises filled the room, so intense and filthy. You looked down to see your juices spilling over your fingers, soaking the sheets beneath you. The sheer sound of it was enough to drive him crazy.

“I—f-faster, please,” he panted into the phone. “I need you to go faster.”

Your eyes widened for a moment as the desperate plea slipped from his lips. But you didn’t have the mental space to think about it. Your focus was solely on reaching your release as you ultimately sped up your pace. Your body began to tighten up, feeling so much pressure and pleasure building up every time your fingertips hit that deep spot inside you.

"Oh—fuck!” You exhaled sharply as the familiar sensation took over you. “I’m cumming I’m cumming I’m cumming—”

With a cry that was both a sob and a shout, your pussy fluttered around your fingers. Your orgasm ripped through you without warning, sending shockwaves of intense pleasure through your body as you gasped and shuddered. Your voice escaped in broken moans and whines, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

“Spencer… oh, God, Spencer…”

The sound of your climax drove him to his own release. His breath hitched, his movements faltering as he let out a harsh sound from his throat. It was raw and unrestrained, downright filthy, and you listened intently, your fingers slipping out only to circle and rub your clit, drawing out the final waves of your orgasm.

Finally, when you couldn’t take it anymore, your hand fell away, and you lay there, breathing heavily, your body relaxing into the bed. Your room was quiet afterward, the only sound coming from was the sound of your own breathing. Then you heard him calling out your name, checking in. But through the post-orgasmic bliss, all you could manage in response was a giggle.

“You’re… laughing?” He mused. “Should I be concerned?”

“No, no,” you replied, still catching your breath, a satisfied smile spreading across your face. “It’s just… I can’t believe we did that.”

A gentle laugh escaped his lips, a warm, soothing sound that calmed your racing heart. "Did you like it?"

You liked it a lot. "Can’t say that I didn’t.”

"So I take it you're not mad at me anymore?"

You let out a soft, contented sigh. “I wasn’t even that mad to begin with. Just… frustrated,” you confessed. “But I think we handled that pretty well.”

“Maybe a little too well,” he agreed softly. “I can't believe I need to take a shower this late.”

You looked down between your legs at his words, and a wave of embarrassment washed over you as you noticed the patch of wetness on your bed. It wasn't small—it spread across the fabric in a noticeable, damp stain. “Uh, yeah,” you admitted with a nervous laugh. “I also need to change my sheets.”

Then you heard a low, almost pained groan from his end of the line.

“What?”

“It’s just…” He paused, and you could almost hear him struggling to find the right words. "I'm now picturing you on your bed."

"Isn't that what you've been doing?"

"Well, yes, but now it's… different."

You couldn't help the amused grin that spread across your face. "Different how?"

"Let's just say the image in my mind is a lot more detailed now and it's not helping me calm down."

A burst of laughter erupted from your chest as you gripped your phone closer to you. “Is this your way of blaming me because you still have a hard-on?” you taunted. “I mean, I’m simply stating the facts.”

“But you’re painting a picture in my head.”

“Of me drenching the sheets just by hearing your voice?”

He made a low, strained sound. “Stop.”

“I can send you a picture if you like,” you offered slyly. “Help you visualize it better.”

There was a moment of stunned silence on his end before he finally muttered, “You shouldn’t.”

“You’re right, I shouldn’t.”

“But if you insist…”

You laughed softly. “Good night, Spencer.”

“Wait—You’re hanging up?”

“Yep,” you said cheerfully. “I thought you needed a shower.”

He made another frustrated sound, somewhere between a groan and a sigh, before reluctantly agreeing. “Fine, fine. Good night.”

And that was it. You ended the call with a satisfied smile. But as you stared at your phone, a rush of thoughts began to swirl through your mind. You were well aware of the potential risks of what you were about to do—how it could be traced back to you. You could almost hear Penelope lecturing you about online security and the dangers of leaving a digital footprint.

But when your mind kept circling back to Spencer—Spencer’s breathless voice, Spencer’s prominent veins on his hands, Spencer with a freaking hard-on in his bed—it was hard to think rationally. Before you could stop yourself, you propped your phone on your pillow and posed for the camera. Legs spread wide, your nipples pressing against your shirt, a flirtatious smile playing on your lips. The shot looked like it came out of a porno movie. You quickly sent it to him.

It took exactly 7 seconds before your phone rang again.

“Yes, Spencer?” you answered, trying to sound innocent.

You heard shuffling and a muffled grunt, and then, faintly, the rustling of fabric. It sounded like he was fumbling with his phone, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip at the frustration in his voice.

“How do I turn this into video call again?”

#behind closed doors #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencerreid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fluff #Fanfiction #gifwriting

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gatorbites-imagines · 1 month ago

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Kinktober day 18

Wade Wilson + Leather/Latex

Readers a spiderman variant of Last stand Spidey, cuz ive been a spideypool fan for years, and cool jacket. I was listening to NSYNC as I wrote this.

2024 kinktober masterlist.

Wade and Logan had never thought they’d stumble upon a spiderman variant of all things in the void. Deadpools, Gambits, Juggernaut and whoever else they stumbled upon, sure. But Spiderman? Savior of the world in many universes spiderman? With great power comes great responsibility spiderman?

Sure, Wade got one of the worst erections of his life when he watched the Spidey whip out a gum, and just blast the head off some variant of The Shocker. His knees almost buckled, Wade almost cumming right then and there. Seeing a Spidey in those tight pants, leggings? Spandex? And a leather jacket, waving around a gun and using it right? That was going right in the spank bank.

The scrunched up disgusted face Logan had, made it obvious that Wades arousal was strong enough for the mutants’ nose to pick it up. But how couldn’t he be so hard his head was swimming? Especially when that Spidey walked towards them, carrying himself with a confidence that spoke of many years of experience.

Why you helped them, even you didn’t know. Maybe it was some part of you that still wanted to be a hero, to help save the universe or whatever. In your own words, you were the worst Spiderman. You were selfish, violent and ruthless, nothing like the light in the dark Spiderman was meant to be. You had hurt your family and loved ones, and killed people who didn’t deserve it, but no part of you felt bad about it.

Hearing this, Wade almost excused himself to go jerk off again for what had to be the tenth time since you partnered up with them. It wasn’t his fault, okay? Spiderman and Deadpool just go together in most universes, you guys were literally soulmates in most universes. You just happened to be real eye candy.

It was surprisingly easy for Wade to talk you into coming with him to his universe. His universe didn’t have a spiderman, obviously he still knew about Spiderman though, he was Deadpool. Logan came along too, but he started grumbling about Wade being a horndog real fast, especially as you bunked with the two as well as Blind Al and Dogpool.

You found it easier than Logan to become part of this world, since there wasn’t really any memories. For Logan it was harder, with the X-men still being alive and all. But Peter Parker and other spider variants didn’t seem to exist. Youd also spent a long time dealing with your problems, so you were even able to get a job.

Guess where you got a job. The Daily Bugle, of course. You were able to snatch a job as a reporter instead of a photographer like you had in your younger days, and somehow you ended up not only befriending Jameson, but becoming one of his go-to reporters. Probably helped that his wife hadn’t died during that robbery, instead she was just injured real bad, but lived.

With your lucrative, or as lucrative as it could get, job, you found your own apartment and moved out, much to Wades despair. He had just started thinking you two were bonding, especially as you had started cleaning your guns together. Wade had even stopped longing for Vanessa, instead turning his attention towards you. and being Deadpool, Wade flirted up a storm, even making jokes about getting a red wig so he could be your Mary Jane.

And yes, Wade stole your spiderman jacket on the regular. You were working a lot, so you wouldn’t notice, right? You wouldn’t notice it being scrubbed clean after hed squirted all over it as he worked himself into a frenzy, huffing the scent of your sweat, gun oil and blood off the leather, right? Of course you noticed, you weren’t stupid, you just… didn’t feel like there was a reason to stop him.

With your new apartment you got to spend more time and space on your hobbies, which just happened to be guns and photography. You were still a spiderman variant after all. you just happened to focus on more than landscape and spiderman pictures, instead you liked taking more extreme or gorey pictures of the latest rogue or villains work, or whatever else crime that was busted around the city.

Wade would giggle and joke about you being some kinda freak as he ogled the pictures too, before turning his eyes to you once more. Wade hung around your place enough to almost live there himself. He had also bled through your couch multiple times, meaning you had to buy a new one semi-regularly.

You even ignored how hed jerk off on your couch when he though you slept, his noises only muffled by your jacket pressed against his face. Wade was pretty bad at hiding it at this point, with you walking into the living room to see him naked from the waist down, dead asleep with your jacket laid over his head. You had a thing for his suit too, so you never said anything. Plus, it did things to your ego…

It took a couple of months before you decided to be spiderman again, wanting to settle yourself before you got into the waves of it all. Plus, the usual spiderman rogues weren’t around in this universe, which meant you just went around dealing with different gangs or high rank criminals.

The X-men also got your help every now and then, even if you didn’t really count as a mutant, whatever that meant. You just knew you weren’t welcome to join their club. Something about you not being born with your powers, and not having the X-gene, meaning you weren’t technically a mutant. Colossus still invited you over for their grill evenings on Fridays though.

What you and Wade had couldn’t be called a relationship or sorts. You guys didn’t kiss, but he jerked off on your couch huffing your scent and licking the leather of your jacket, and you acted like he didn’t. at some point you even started doing the same with his suit, using the leather to jerk your cock and spilling against the insides.

Over time you both grew more confident, or sloppy depending on who you asked. You both stopped cleaning up your messes, leaving your spend all over the others things, meaning you both had to go around carrying the others scent when the mission called for you in a hurry. Logan always looked downright sick when he caught the scent, his nose scrunched up at the hormones wafting off you both.

This kept up for a longer period of time, with neither of you saying anything. Instead just marking the others things in your spend, hell, you had even rutted together on a rooftop, blaming it on “adrenaline of the mission”. The sound of the leather of your jacket and his suit only made it so much hotter, Wades hands grasping at your hips to pull you against him, voice warbly and high pitched from his excitement.

The one time opened the floodgates. That’s when you learned Wade really loved kisses, he especially loved when you kissed him like he wanted to devour him. Wades mouth was always so sloppy when you kissed, his tongue desperately curling around your own as he groaned and gurgled, his hands running up and down your back with need.

He was always so hot, ready for everything you may offer him. Wade had even started opening himself up and finding a red plug to slide home, ready for the moment you decided to fuck him. Of course, he was most excited when the time came and you bent him over some metal storage container in a warehouse, after your latest shared mission.

Wade was shaking in sheer excitement as you rucked his suit down just enough to free his ass, the mutant mercenary giggling and cooing as he waved his hips from side to side. Looking back at you, Wade was ready to finish right then and there, as he watched you open your suit up just enough to free yourself.

He didn’t even get to make a joke about how he plugged himself up for you, your usual patience running out faster than Wade ran his mouth. God, he loved how hard you fucked him, sing that super strength of yours to leave him feeling raw and used in the best way, Wade louder in the bedroom than he was normally, meaning he was almost howling and wailing with want and need.

His words were a slurred mix of begs for more, and some other mashed together comment about how the readers must love this, and how the author sucked at writing dialogue. Like always, you had no idea what he was talking about, instead just putting your hips into it and fucking him harder like he so clearly wanted.

Being a spider variant meant you had little rest period between orgasms, and you had a lot more energy than Wade. Being as backed up as you were, you also just kept fucking him until Wade was almost limp in your arms, his mask finally off his scarred tear and drool-stained face as he tried and failed to beg for more.

Wades cum was sprayed all over the floor and container hed been bent over, pathetic thin spurts shooting out of his tip as you lifted him like he weighed nothing, moving him like a ragdoll as his voice went raspy from all his moaning.

He was kinda cute like this, so fucked out he struggled to form a single thought or word. Especially when he rubbed his face into your jacket, which you had taken off and laid under his head as a pillow. It was only when there truly was nothing more to milk out of him that you decided it was enough and pulled out, cleaning Wade up to the best of your ability.

It was easy to lift him bridal style, letting Wade nuzzle against you and duck his head under your chin. Youd even put your jacket on him, just so he felt some extra safety as you somehow swung you two back to your apartment. You sure hoped none of the X-men had to check out the warehouse later on, it would be hard to live that down…

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wandasaura · 9 months ago

Text

TOO IN LOVE TO THINK STRAIGHT

summary — when you mention to your dominants that you want to further explore the dynamics of your relationship, they’re all for it

warning(s) — established relationship, married wandanat, dom/sub dynamics, exploration of non-sexual bdsm, purposefully triggered subspace, implied mommy kink (never said), implied daddy kink (also never said), brief mention of sensory overstimulation, literal fluff to the fullest extent possible, men/minors dni

authors note — i committed to the lyric titles too hard, but wonderland perfectly describes this fic! daddy nat lovers, i see you

you are in love universe

♥️⊹ ˚ . 18+, men/minors dni ⁺ 𓈒 ꒰💌꒱ ♡ ･ mommy maximoff ✧

“Are you excited?” The soft vibrations have become a fond sensation as you peer out of the car window and admire all of the buildings that you pass. You’re not in the best area, one of the worst actually, but you find something so calming about the construction crowded roads and graffiti covered storefronts. You’ve been stuck in bumper to bumper traffic for the last half hour, a plethora of detours and u-turns standing in your way of where you really wanted to be, but every time Natasha eases her foot back onto the gas and shoots between lines of cars that don’t have the balls to make the move themself, you hum in contentment. You’re okay with being stuck if you’re stuck with them.

They’d been promising you this day for months, and although it had been canceled two weeks ago when you came down with an unexpected cold that left you miserable and bed-ridden for three days, it was finally here. There was no time left for another extenuating circumstance to push the date back farther. You hadn’t stopped bouncing in the backseat since Wanda had affectionately buckled your seatbelt, your fingerprints are smeared against the backseat window from how you point out the exit signs that mean your destination is growing closer. Natasha had long since stopped asking you to refrain from touching the glass she kept spotless, looking back at you through the rear-view mirror with fondness whenever a lull in speed occurred. Now was one of those moments. The line of cars all waiting to merge back onto the Garden State Parkway kept the car still, the break was applied heavily and wasn’t going to be let off soon. Unlike the other times she had looked back at you, she craned her entire body now, and you grinned at the easy way about her expression.

Your fingers left behind the glass of the backseat driver side window to press firmly against the tip of her nose, wanting to see it scrunch up in annoyance like it always did when you poked it. Natasha was less compliant with your need for physical touch then Wanda was, but she allowed you small victories every once in a while. Today was one of those days where everything seemed to fly. You had eagerly pulled her around the house all morning, sat in her lap at breakfast, and all but forced her to help you dress when you decided picking the perfect outfit was too hard to do on your own. The women had immaculate taste in fashion, you supposed it was something that needed to come with their high-profile occupations, but you’d never complain about them making your old clothes look fresh and new without adding anything tasteless or unnecessary. You hadn’t wanted to be apart from her since your eyes had peeled open at seven, the excitement in your belly too strong to ignore despite Wanda telling you that you wouldn’t be leaving the house until eleven. You were so beyond grateful that Natasha had been serious about taking you out when her and Wanda’s schedules allowed, that it didn’t matter to you if your earlier than usual wake up time meant having a full four hours to merely sit around and wait.

You nodded your head at her simply asked question, bearing a smile that compiled a list of words you’d be happy enough to use in a sentence if she so desired. She didn’t though, you knew she was well aware of how excited you were and was merely pulling your leg because she herself was bored. There was no way she could be oblivious to your hyperactive movements when your feet kicked the back of her seat every handful of minutes, but she’d not asked you to stop only rolled her eyes in fond exasperation and murmured to Wanda about the copious amounts of fingerprints and scuff marks she’d have to tend to later. Natasha and traffic were not things that should exist in the same sentence. For as patient as the woman was, she quickly lost her composure when ‘assholes in black hondas don’t know what the fucking speed limit is’. The first time she’d bellowed in annoyance you’d shook your head and giggled into your hand, your eyes connecting with Wanda’s who had glanced back at you in a silent threat to not egg Natasha on further. You’d tried to keep your amused reactions to yourself after that, but it was hard not to laugh at Natasha’s annoyance for anyone going under eighty miles an hour; especially considering the speed limit was only sixty-five.

The drive wasn’t meant to be any longer than an hour and a half, Wanda had meticulously gone over each and every available route before she’d loaded you and Natasha up in the car, but construction hadn’t been something to consider while she was planning your departure. It seemed every major highway and backroad was under construction lately, even the roads that led down to the shore in Westview. You didn’t mind it, occasionally pointing out the names of the yellow vehicles as you passed them, but you worried how little time you’d have to explore as the second hour of driving came and passed. When your legs grew restless, you settled for sitting cross-legged in the backseat, your elbows pressing firmly against your knees as you craned your neck to see between the head-rests on the couples seats. The sky was open and blue, no trace of clouds but apparent wind. The trees on either side of the road rustled with the flow of the breeze, and if you stayed just quiet enough, you could hear it howling outside of the windows. The sight of wind was a ploy to get unsuspecting people out of their houses. The weather was hot and humid, temperatures climbing into the low hundreds, but your destination was indoors, so thoughts about how you’d melt beneath the sun didn’t have valid reasons to come.

Wanda’s eyes locked on yours when Natasha eased onto the gas again, pulling off the exit ramp like a bat out of hell and dodging oncoming traffic that honk and scolded her boldness. You giggled when a particular car just to your left raised their hand at her, a single finger pointed toward the sky. She was unaffected, returning the gesture with passion. Your smile fell off your lips when your gaze shuffled over to meet Wanda’s, and the Sokovian looked at you with displeasure. “Feet on the floor.” Wanda reprimanded when she knew she had your attention, and you sighed but complied with the request. “We'll be there soon. Why don’t you tell me about what you're most excited to see?”

That had inspired a full tangent of thoughts that were only half complete to spill from your lips like rushing water off a cliff, but neither Wanda or Natasha had tried to interrupt you and get the full version of your story. They were happy enough to listen to you ramble nonsensically, your fingers twisting together in your lap out of pure elation that you had no other way to express. Wanda was simply content with knowing that should Natasha crash, you were sitting properly in the backseat. It wasn’t another half hour before Natasha was grabbing a ticket from the machine at the entryway of the parking garage and pulling into a reserved spot on the very first level by the exit. You’d known they would go all out for today, they always did, but it never failed to make you feel incredibly special to be getting such attentive treatment from two of the most willing and powerful women in the world. You flew out of the car before Natasha even had the engine off, feet not even hitting the pavement beneath you entirely before you raced around the back of the Stingray so you could pull Wanda’s door open for her. You bounced excitedly on your toes throughout the entire exchange, grinning up at her with an expression of complete innocence. The Sokovian smiled down at your adoringly, capturing your face in her gentle hands and pulling you just close enough for your forehead to fall against her lips.

“Such an excited little duckling.” Wanda mused with gentle laughter, her breath warm and thin as it fanned across your temple and shot sparks of pleasurable admiration through your belly and across your spine. You would’ve stayed permanently fixed on her tender expression had you not heard Natasha’s door swing closed. Your eyes trailed over the top of the car until they met the sight of her, dressed casually in a white t-shirt and jean shorts, her red locks had been pulled up and away from her face in a fleetingly worn ponytail that swung behind her head with every subtle move her body made. You could drool over the sight of her, but there were other priorities at the forefront of your mind.

“Can we go now? Please?” You bounced eagerly beneath their transfixed stare, your hands grabbing eagerly at Wanda’s who still had a soft grip on your cheeks. You knew the rules of walking in busy parking lots well, and although they’d made you feel like an incapable child at one point, you adored and craved them now. The lawyers reminded you so often that just because you are a capable adult, doesn’t mean you have to act like one when they’re there to take care of you. You let them take control easily now, no willingness to fight left to linger in your instincts, even in something as simple as finding your way through busy parking lots.

A smirk splayed across Natasha’s lips as she approached you and Wanda, her hand shoving her phone and wallet into one of the back pockets of her denim shorts. You should be ashamed for finding the simple action so attractive, but you didn't. You'd stopped letting yourself feel embarrassment for merely noticing their beauty long ago, and greedily your eyes trailed over the muscles in her shoulder and bicep that flexed as she reached toward her back. Natasha chuckled knowingly, sending a wink in your direction before she purposefully flexed her biceps. You wanted to roll your eyes and tell her to knock it off, but Wanda had beaten you to the punch and sent her wife an exasperated hit to the gut. “I don’t know, malyshka. Can we?” Natasha answered your earlier question, letting her feet carry her impossibly close to Wanda’s side. You wanted to groan aloud when the Russian’s hand slid comfortably into the back pocket of the Sokovian’s denim shorts, but you were too excited to dwell on the fact that Wanda’s ass had definitely just been squeezed roughly and possessively.

“Yes.” You made the executive decision with a curt nod of impatience, already setting your pace toward the exit, dragging Wanda behind you with rushed steps. It was the exact opposite of what she intended to happen when she’d first implemented the rule of wanting you to hold either her or Natasha’s hands in busy spaces. You were now the one leading her around by the hand, and quite blindly if she wanted to put it nicely. You’d hardly noticed when you led her body straight into a traffic cone, her feet just barely able to avoid tripping over the bright orange safety measure. Natasha had to stifle her laughter as she followed, her hand still in Wanda’s pocket and effectively pulling the Sokovian in two different directions as she remained a couple of steps behind.

Wanda placed a firm hand overtop of your wrist, catching your attention as you looked back at her with a whine of impatience toward the back of your throat, ready to be unleashed if she didn’t make whatever she needed quick enough for your standards. You were almost there, almost to the long line of parents and children that wrapped themselves around the building in an unruly line. You could see the electric blue sign on the top of the structure perfectly, the artwork on the sides of the building visible but intercepted by bobbing heads and tall bodies. Her abrupt stopping when you were so close to where you desperately wanted to be was the cruelest thing that had ever happened to you. “Why don’t you leave the dragging around to me, lyubov’. Unless you want me to end up in the infirmary before you even get to see the sharks.”

You groaned at her teasing, a fierce blush crawling up your neck that couldn’t be blamed by the unforgiving heat. You didn’t let her words sink beneath your skin however, deciding that pulling at her hand was effective enough. “Will you hurry up then?” You groaned, smirking victoriously when Natasha laughed at your antics and placed a kiss on the top of your head.

“Yes, milaya. We can go.” Wanda rolled her eyes but agreed with your demand, already beginning to set your pace at a significantly slower speed before the rest of her sentence even lingered in the air for your ears to pick up on. You practically skipped beside her, a broad smile on your face as you once again droned on and on about everything you couldn’t wait to see and have. Natasha had promised you a stuffed animal from the gift shop, knowing that you’d never had many in childhood. You’d decided that today would be one of the first times you explored your dynamic outside of the house, and the Slavic women were sparing no experience in giving you the purest taste at reclaiming your lost childhood. It felt too good to be true, to just surrender your conscious mind and let them take control, but you found yourself submitting to them easily. They wanted to do this for you, they enjoyed playing up their roles in this aspect. It was still hard to grasp that something that could be so kinky in bed could also be so pure outside of it, but they were allowing you to learn at your own speed, and selfishly they loved how inexperienced you were. There was no former training to unwind from your beliefs, there was no burned skin around your heart that had been failed by somebody else. You were fully theirs to shape, and they intended to show you the purest sides of this dynamic.

You frowned when Wanda began to lead you toward the front of the building, getting farther and farther away from the long line of people waiting their turn to enter. Toddlers pointed at you and tugged on their parents arms, not so quietly wondering why they couldn’t follow you and go around the line. A blush settled onto your cheeks when a little girl, no older than six, tugged at who you assumed was her fathers hands and boldly declared that you were ‘cutting’. Natasha and Wanda were in their own little world it seemed, laughing and talking with one another in quick Russian that you couldn’t comprehend, not batting a blind eye to the whispered accusations that were being pointed at you.

“The lines back there.” You whispered albeit a little self-consciously, not wanting to draw attention to yourselves anymore than the redheads adoring your waist already had. The sight of you together dripped with wealth. The diamond studded Chopard watch on Wanda’s wrist dazzled in the sunlight, the yellow gold Tiffany hoops in Natasha’s first piercing swayed when the breeze caught them. You looked properly out of place amongst the parents and young children all waiting in line.

Wanda stopped walking at your timid statement, looking down at you with a look that could only be described as dominating. It wasn’t hard, wasn’t demanding, but rather apologetic and soft. You felt entirely small beneath her sage green stare. “What did you want to try today?” Wanda reminded you softly, her body language not portraying the suggestiveness behind her quiet words. To any of the parents standing feet away, it looked like she had simply paused to ask you a well-intended question, which you supposed was true, but it wasn’t as innocent as it appeared.

You deflated slightly, leaning into the touch Natasha had placed on the small of your back minutes ago. You were becoming fuzzy, a feeling you’d associated with rough sex, but there hadn’t been any of that today. The closest thing to having their bodies had come when Natasha pulled you into a bruising kiss before you left the house. “Letting you have control.”

Wanda hummed, content with your answer, knowing that once again she had full control. Her fingers that always seemed to be perfectly polished ghosted over your cheek, and you could assume she’d attempted to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear like she always did, but today your hair had been tied back into two french braids that Natasha had suggested. “So let Mommy worry about where the line is. That’s not something for little girls like you to be concerned about.”

You nodded softly, unable to help the rush of something sweet that further propelled the dizziness in your mind forward at the Sokovian’s dismissal. Although you didn’t resume your skipping like you had been doing when Wanda guided you across the street, your footsteps came lightly and with a bounce as you became lost in the simple action of counting the many cracks that adorned the sidewalk as you stepped over them. At some point, your hand had grabbed Natasha’s, and you swung your arms back and forth absentmindedly. The day was hot, unforgivingly so, and the natural flush across your cheeks was becoming annoying. You were ready to start vocalizing your discomfort when Wanda guided you inside of the aquarium, saving her the headache of listening to you whine about something she couldn’t control.

You gawked at the sight of light blue painted walls and elaborate glass tanks that held any color coral you could imagine. The front desk was a giant fish tank, and little orange and white clownfish swam around the enclosure blissfully. You were practically vibrating beside Natasha as you looked around at the little details that had been incorporated into the entrance of the building. The ceilings were high, and painted across them were sharks and whales and every kind of fish you could even imagine. There was no embarrassment when you pulled at Natasha’s hand and let your own little finger shoot up to the ceiling, excitedly pointing out a boesemani rainbow fish that swam beside a hammerhead. Wanda had gone to check you in for your reservation, or at least you assumed that was what she was doing as she stood closely to the front desk and nodded at the teenager behind the counter. His eyes briefly flashed over to you when he noticed your head craned toward the ceiling and overheard your loud exclamation, but Wanda must’ve said something that made his attention snap back to her just as quickly as it had left.

“Inside voices, dorogaya.” Natasha smiled sweetly at your excitement, having no real issue with the volume that you had spoken at before, but she knew it would bother you if you caught onto the lingering stares of judgemental adults who couldn’t possibly understand that not everything was meant solely for children. You had just as much of a right to enjoy these little things as the toddlers who ran free, but she couldn’t change everyone's opinion even with her deadly glare.

Your cheeks flushed pink, and not because of the blistering sun, but you nodded to her request and tried not to let it sting. You’d been told all your life that you were too loud, reprimanded by your mother until you’d just fallen silent. You knew she hadn’t meant it in any particular way, but some things still struck a chord in your heart. The crushing feeling hadn’t lasted long, too comfortable in Natasha’s presence to dwell in self-consciousness. Your eyes went back to trailing all of the open space that you could see, and when they landed on a particular tank beside the single hallway that led into the larger room that veered off in several separate directions, you attempted to jut off. A whine rippled through your chest when your hand was squeezed and Natasha didn’t follow you forward, cemented in the place where you’d been instructed to wait for Wanda.

“Seahorses!” You tugged at her hand, earning you a disproving expression complete with a single raised eyebrow. You sulked back toward her, giving the tank one last sad glance before you focused down on your shoes, a frown on your lips.

“What are we meant to be doing, hm?” Natasha didn’t allow you to keep your gaze transfixed on your shoes, one of her slender and ring adorned fingers guiding your chin upward until your eyes flickered to hers. Her heart clenched at the sad frown that clung to your features that had been so happy not even seconds ago, but she didn’t let your pout sway her decision. After all, Wanda had given you a clear direction, and she expected that you follow it. “Can you tell me what we’re meant to be doing?”

You sighed, glancing back over at Wanda who looked to be wrapping up whatever conversation she’d been having with the teenager behind the counter. “Waiting for Wands.” The words slipped past your lips softly, your eyes trailing back over to Natasha’s. “But there’s seahorses.”

“And the seahorses will still be there when Wands is done. We’re gonna have our listening ears on today, aren’t we?” Natasha was really laying it on thick, even she knew that, but it was hard to help herself when you looked so soft and pliant standing in front of her dressed in an outfit that she picked out. You nodded your head, shuffling into her embrace, sadness still tainting your features.

Natasha kisses the top of your head, wrapping her arms around your torso as she lets you have your feelings against her chest. She knows they’ve been guiding you into a stage of subspace all day, it had been perfectly intentional, but how you handle it is still a wildcard. Much to your misconception, subspace wasn’t always brought on by getting railed, as you liked to refer to it as. Any form of submission could send you down that rabbit hole, including following instructions; which you’d been doing all day. Subspace wasn’t about the weight of the scene or how badly your body ached afterward, it was just about trust and the right amount of guidance. They’d been doing something right, and Natasha could recognize the glassy sheen over your eyes as you peaked up at her and then over toward Wanda who was finally, finally, walking back toward you.

The Sokovian had three brightly colored bands in her hands, her lips curled into a bright grin that crinkled her eyes. She stopped just in front of Natasha, effectively blocking you from view as she felt the eyes of the teenager behind the counter try to burn into your form. “What’s with the frown?”

“Seahorses.” You pouted up at her, much to Natasha’s amusement. The Russian’s hand ran over your back soothingly, though she couldn’t fight her bright smile when you again tried to wiggle out of her arms and rush over to the cylinder tank now that Wanda was back in sight.

“She wasn’t very pleased that you asked us to wait for you.” Natasha filled in the gaps, your explanation rather vague and rushed; if you could even call the one word response you gave much of an explanation at all. “Why don’t you tell Wands what kind of fish you found on the ceiling?” Natasha nudged you, prompting your attention onto something other than seahorses. You beamed at the excuse to ramble again, your finger pointing up to the ceiling like it did the first time, and even if Wanda couldn’t follow your finger to the specific fish she was meant to be looking at, she smiled encouragingly.

“It’s a boesemani rainbow fish! They get brighter when they get older!” You laughed, your pouty face no longer a visual that filled the entrance of the aquarium. Wanda had not the slightest care in the world for the fish you were pointing to, but she praised your knowledge either way. She’d pretend to care about anything if it meant seeing that bright smile linger on your lips even after the words stopped coming. “Can we see the seahorses now?”

Already anticipating how the rest of the afternoon was going to play out, Wanda laughed at your eagerness but nodded her head. You were just out of Natasha’s grip when she captured you in hers. This time, you did whine, sad eyes stuck on the tank in the corner of the room. Neither redhead could blame you for your distress when you’d been intercepted on your way to the seahorses twice now, and so neither scolded you for the sharp sound that reached their ears. “What are the rules if you’re not holding mine or Natty’s hand?” Wanda quizzed softly, her voice taking on a tone that had made you weak in the knees too many times. It was a voice Natasha called her ‘Mommy Voice’, which usually led to the Russian getting slapped upside the head when Wanda overheard.

“Stay where you can see me.” You bounced on your toes, still pulling at Wanda’s hand and glancing between her and the seahorses with a desperate plea in your wide and glassy eyes. “Please!”

She nodded at you with encouragement, smiling fondly when you raced over to the tank, carefully not to place your hands on the glass though it was already smudged with little fingerprints and what could only be assumed to be saliva. You marveled at the seahorses that bobbed in the water, illuminated by an electric blue strip of lights that made the gradient of colors on their bodies pop. You would’ve stayed staring at the seahorses all afternoon had Natasha not been the one to softly guide you away after five minutes of soft oohing and awwing. There were so many more tanks and creatures to see, she didn’t want you wasting any more of your time on just one tiny tank. You’d been upset about her gentle hands guiding you away until you’d turned a corner and spotted a tank of hippos in the distance. Your eager hand had pulled her through the crowd with Wanda following hot on your heels.

You showed the same level of excitement at every tank and exhibit, which neither lawyer thought was possible. There was no lull in your squeals and shrieks, and both of their wrists hurt by the time they sat you down for a late lunch. You’d abided by their every rule, including the ones that seemed stupid to you, what was so wrong about falling into the penguin exhibit, it was an easy enough climb back over the thin glass barrier? They’d expected lunch to go smoothly, you’d been so well behaved that they’d even considered buying you ice cream first, but unfortunately for them, the small cafe in the heart of the aquarium was directly beside the shark exhibit.

“Milaya, we will see the sharks after we eat.” Wanda cooed sweetly for the umpteenth time, trying not to let her face crack as she contemplated just giving into your pleas. Their firm voices and whispered praise had guided you into what Natasha referred to as the ‘sweet spot’. You weren’t so blissfully fuzzy that you couldn’t comprehend their words, but you were beyond the point of making a rational decision, and listening seemed to fall into that category as you struggled against Wanda, eyes fixed on the large sign that comically had a massive bite mark in the side. It was the little things that lingered throughout the building that made it more immersive, like the stickers on the floor in the shape of penguin footprints that lead to their enclosure, and the bite mark in the sign that led to the sharks. Your eyes searched to find every little detail that anyone else would overlook.

“I want to see them now.” Your crestfallen face was enough to weaken the reserve both redheads had been putting forth since your little meltdown had started. They hated to think that had you not been so high on endorphins and adrenaline, you never would’ve expressed how much you enjoyed all the little things that the aquarium had to offer, but they were still working to earn this level of trust from you when peptides weren’t at an all time high. With your head firmly planted in subspace, there wasn’t a single insecure feeling prickling beneath your skin. You were utterly free, control sitting in their hands and they had to force themselves to remember that.

“Not now, detka.” Natasha stepped in, guiding you toward the only empty table in the cafe. Your lips were turned downward in a persistent frown, but by some miracle, you’d actually sat down on the chair and let Wanda name out the options on the menu. It was no surprise to either of them that you pointed toward the chicken tender basket, but it was good enough for them to fulfill your request immediately.

Wanda left to order the food while Natasha kept you occupied at the table, ensuring that you didn’t start to fall out of the state they’d been working you into all day. She offered praise when you answered her little questions about the fun facts you’d been reading on all of the displays, and she tutted disapprovingly when your fingers ripped apart a napkin that some other family had left on the table. When Wanda came back with a tray of three chicken tender baskets because it felt wrong to eat any of the seafood that was offered, you were firmly engaged in a conversation about the stingrays that had been yet to be spotted. You’d explored more than half of the aquarium, finding out that the pink band around your wrist was a pass to all of the activities that lingered around. You’d fed the penguins, given the seals high-fives, and watched a 4D movie that made absolutely no sense, but had dispensed bubbles and sprays of water that were fun enough. All that was left to do was walk the roped path overtop of the shark exhibit, but that didn’t sound like something you wanted to put your faith in, even if hundreds of people did it every day. You, nor Wanda, would be walking across a shark infested tank, though Natasha had plans to do it herself. She’d always been the more daring of the couple.

When your lunch was finished, or when your lunch was picked over enough for Wanda and Natasha to set you free again, you wasted no time in grabbing both of their hands and zipping through the families that stood in your way. You’d been too distracted with the bamboo sharks to hear Wanda mutter to Natasha about how your crowd direction was just as bad as her driving, but you’d turned around in time to watch Natasha roll her eyes and whack Wanda’s bicep.

In your fuzzy headspace, their rules engraved in your mind, one of them being to show respect to others, you frowned and settled both hands onto your hips. “You broke rule number six!” You stated rather angrily, stalking up to Wanda with long strides that didn’t match the innocence in your eyes. You kissed her arm softly, the place where Natasha had hit her engraved in your mind.

“Yeah Natty, you broke rule six.” Wanda’s amusement wasn’t so easily hidden in her tone as her lips curled into a smile and she pulled you into her chest, settling a kiss onto the top of your head as you both sent glares toward Natasha. Yours was littered with a protectiveness that almost outshone the glassy gleam that had settled, Wanda’s however, was riddled with enjoyment and humor. “What should she do, detka?” Wanda giggled, leaning down to whisper in your ear though it was loud enough for Natasha to hear, and the redhead was just barely keeping the smile off her face as she watched you and Wanda conspire against her.

“She’s gotta say sorry!” They’d noticed that in your fuzzy state, you’d shied away from the bigger words that slipped into your vocabulary normally. You weren’t yet at a point where communicating your needs was impossible, but you weren’t actively fighting to clear your head and search for words like apologize and blasphemy either. Natasha would never forgive Yelena for throwing that word around so often you’d started to pick up on it.

“Well?” Wanda jutted out her hip, placed a perfectly manicured hand just above where her bone rested. You mimicked her stance, though you were significantly less threatening than Wanda with your french braids messy from the humidity that drafted in from windows, and your baby blue colored corset shirt that was adorned with intricate lace patterns and ribbons that tied the back together.

“Ona razob'yetsya v mashine.” Natasha hummed, and although you knew enough Russian to know that wasn’t an apology she had uttered to Wanda, no, it was a very true statement that you’d crash in the car on the way home, the Sokovian had accepted it and laughed.

Despite your excitement to see the sharks, you didn’t hang around the exhibit for long. There were too many people and you seemed to become overstimulated more easily when you were flush full of endorphins, so Wanda had been the one to lead you away toward tanks of lobsters and jellyfish. She started walking down the hallway, leaving you with Natasha, wanting to find a sign that could lead the three of you toward the stingrays because she knew you wouldn’t enjoy the aquarium for much longer. It had been hours, and in your sensitive headspace, the bright lights and sounds were quickly becoming too much to handle. You’d been so brave, trying this out with them and trusting them fully, but Wanda wasn’t about to compromise your happiness for a few more hours of mindless walking from room to room when you’d already seen everything that interested you. All she cared about was making sure you had a good time, even if she thought aquariums were savagely overpriced now.

Wanda frowned when Natasha found her way over to her without you. Her eyes flickered around the long hallway, searching for your blue top that stood out brightly against the sea of other colors that adults and children wore. It was such a specific shade that even if seventeen other people all crowded around to watch jellyfish bob had blue on, you stuck out like a sore thumb. “Where’s Y/N?” Wanda questioned and Natasha frowned.

“I thought she was with you.” The Russian quickly realized that no matter how many times she spun around in circles, you weren’t anywhere in sight. She distinctly remembered you telling her that you wanted to go with Wanda, so she hadn’t questioned when you walked off and toward the direction that the Sokovian had gone in. Natasha was properly panicked when thirty seconds went by and she still couldn’t spot you, but Wanda at least had the thought to check the next hallway before she let herself spiral too.

The stingray exhibit turned out to be in the next room over, crowded by kids and parents who talked about the sea creatures with excitement in their quiet tones. The occasional toddler bellowed in disgust when they realized how slick the back of a stingray was, but for the most part, the room only vibrated because of the sheer number of voices that occupied it, not because of volume. You were hunched over the edge, elbows deep into the shallow water when Wanda and Natasha spotted you. Each let out a sigh of relief, but nothing was going to stop them from marching over to you and pulling you away from the water.

“What were the rules, milaya?” Wanda asked you, her voice not as soft as it had been all day, but not hard either. They’d never been out of the house while you were lingering in subspace, and though they never wanted to lose you, it hadn’t been something that never crossed their mind. You wandered away even when your head was clear, your lack of impulse control only heightened that need to trail off.

“Stingrays!” You beamed at Wanda, not taking into account the thin line that settled over her eyebrows as she peered down at you. Your excitement was cute, a telling indication that you really hadn’t meant to wander away and give them the scare of their life, but it wouldn’t get you out of the scolding Wanda had ready on the tip of her tongue.

“Not stingrays, utenok. What were the rules?” Natasha laid heavy emphasis on the last word of her question, and though your eyes were more glassy then she’d seen them all day, she could see the wheels turning as you tried to process her words.

“Oh.” You mumbled when you finally came to the conclusion, your shoulders deflating as your head dipped down and set your gaze on your shoes. “Sorry.”

Wanda, who had been prepared to dig into you, sighed softly and dropped the topic. She may be a stickler for the rules but she knew it would only cause further damage if she laid into you about listening. Your disappearing hadn’t been intentional, and even she could see the tears threatening to spill over as you brewed in your own feelings of disappointment.

“I want you holding my hand, dorogaya.” She instructed firmly, “No more walking by yourself. We don’t wanna lose such a sweet little duckling, huh?” Wanda lifted your chin, smiling reassuringly down at you. Her rings caught the light, glimmering like a million little stars that cried to be released from the gold adorning her fingers. It was over after that, you’d fallen too deep into the sea of bliss to want anything other than her. You shuffled close, all thoughts of stingrays forgotten as you breathed in her scent. Sensing your loss of interest, Wanda shared a silent conversation with Natasha who nodded.

“Why don’t we go check out the gift shop?” Natasha claimed one of your hands, engangling you from Wanda before you could sink any deeper. They needed you coherent enough to get back into the car, and then you were free to settle deeply beneath the blanket of comfort they’d slowly been laying over top of you all day. Natasha held back on delivering any further praise, knowing it wouldn’t help you coming closer to the light.

She guided you through hallways and crowded rooms, occasionally squeezing your hand when you winced at crying babies and strong fishy odors. She herself was over the aquarium, but she’d been holding out for you. She was glad she didn’t have to fake her enthusiasm anymore, though Wanda was certainly getting a kick out of all the exasperated eyerolls the Russian hid from you.

The gift shop was practically empty when you shuffled inside, clinging to Natasha who didn’t mind the contact. She led you through rows of toys and puzzles, some not having any connection to the aquarium while others quite boldly sported the name in a thick black font. You found interest in none of it, which she couldn’t blame you for. Everything looked tacky and far too cheap to be as expensive as the prices on the shelves said, but still she guided you around encouraging you to pick something out. She’d promised you a stuffed animal, but when you finally reached the back wall where all the cuddly toys were lined up in rows, neither of you liked any. They were all filled with stuffing that was too stiff to cuddle, and you retracted your hand quickly when you reached out to touch one. Whatever had been used as fuzz was scratchy and coarse, and you hated it with a passion. Eventually, when Wanda came up to you holding a soft gray crewneck with an embroidered whale shark and the name of the aquarium on the front, you agreed to let it be purchased for you, and although it was still in the highest temperatures that New Jersey had seen all summer, you wore it out of the aquarium with a smile.

When you reached the car, there was no keeping you afloat any longer. Natasha had uttered the first bit of praise in minutes, and you surrendered fully to the warmth in your mind. Wanda smiled, usually the one who you attached to when you fell over the edge, but Natasha had been your chosen pick today.

“Just get in the back with her, Talia.” Wanda rolled her eyes after three minutes of Natasha trying to detach you from her arm, each attempt ending with whines and stomped feet as you tightened your grip.

Natasha sighed, able to count the number of times she’d let Wanda drive her car on one hand, but she wasn’t getting away from you right now, and she didn’t really want to anyway. “If you so much as leave one fingerprint on my radio you won’t be getting laid for a week, Maximoff.”

Wanda rolled her eyes, snatching the keys from Natasha’s outstretched hand and opening the driver's side door more aggressively than needed. If anyone was going to be leaving fingerprints it was Natasha, who could never decide which type of music she wanted to listen to. Seeing that you had gotten your way, you smiled up at Natasha with a grin that was only right to describe as cheeky. The Russian rolled her eyes and settled you into the backseat, shushing your protests when she strapped the seatbelt over your chest and made sure your feet were planted firmly on the floor.

She pulled you into her side when her own seatbelt was clicked into place, gently releasing your hair from the tight braids that had been twisted together all day. At the first pass of her fingers across your sensitive scalp, you all but melted into her chest and let your eyes flutter closed. It wouldn’t take six minutes before you were asleep against her chest, clutching desperately to the white t-shirt covering her torso. With the absence of your questions and excited statements, the car settled with silence, filled with only the sound of the engine revving when Wanda stepped on the gas.

“Did you have a good day, moya lyubov’?” Natasha asked, extending an arm to run over fingers over Wanda’s shoulder. She couldn’t see the Sokovian’s face, but she knew there was a satisfied smile settling over her lips.

“I did.” She breathed out softly, flicking the right blinker on when she merged onto the parkway, thankful that all the construction seemed to have been paused for the day and the road, though filled with typical traffic, was clear of any major dead stops. “Did you ever think we’d be here?” Although Wanda hadn’t been specific, Natasha knew she was referring to you. You were practically the sun in their own two planet universe, everything they did revolved around you now, but she wouldn’t have it any other way. Things got boring when it was merely her and Wanda in a universe void of endless light and warmth.

“I hoped.” Natasha kissed your temple softly, glad that she hadn’t stirred you awake.

When Wanda pulled into the driveway, you were still sound asleep and the sky was dark with nightfall. It was early to call it a night, but the couple did so without complaint. You settled into Natasha’s chest with only the aquarium crewneck on your body, and Wanda had shuffled into the space in bed where your body typically rested, laying her head down on Natasha’s shoulder and placed a heavy hand on the small of your back.

“Goodnight my little utenok.” She whispered into the thick stretch of silence before sleep overcame her too, and although the night carried on outside of your small bubble of peace, none of you had any idea.

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xomakara · 4 months ago

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[PREVIEW] No Clue

Full Version is released! → Here!!

SUMMARY | You're in love with Jaehyun, your best friend, but he has no clue. You have suffered in silence as you have watched him date countless of girls left and right. Graduation is coming up, and you are running out of time to tell him how you feel. Will he finally see that it should have been you all along, or will he break your heart forever? PAIRINGS | Jaehyun x Reader GENRE | college!student!Jaehyun, college!student!Reader, college au, friends to lovers trope, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up ya’ll!), fingering, dirty talk, oral sex, (other things that might be added) RATING | Mature LENGTH | tbd (halfway there ya'll) TAGLIST | let me know if you'd like to be tagged for when I release this! AUTHOR’S NOTE | Mama Linda is back and ready to feed you with neo food~ This is a small preview of the beginning of the story since I'm about half-way finished with it. 'Walk' comeback has literally fueled my loins and I've become feral for the neo men. Things might change from the preview and the final release, so please be aware of that! Much love 💚

You sat in the coffee shop, tables away from your best friend as you watched him flirt with that pretty girl he met at the latest NCT frat party. It was another girl this week, but you still hoped. You hoped he would turn and look at you. You hoped that he would see that it should be you.

It was never you.

He laughed at something she said and you sipped your tea. The hot liquid scalded your throat but you barely registered the pain, your eyes on Jaehyun, your heart shattering every single time he smiled at her. He would never smile at you like that. He would never look at you with those soft brown eyes.

And yet you continued to sit in the corner, watching, hoping, praying for something you could never have.

You got up and walked past them, ignoring Jaehyun's questioning glance. Your head was down as you pushed open the door and stepped out into the hot summer air.

The walk back to your apartment was quiet. The heels you wore were a nuisance today, and you kicked them off halfway through the walk, your feet now padding barefoot across the concrete. You could see a group of guys approaching and you sighed, picking up your pace. You didn’t want to have to talk to anyone.

The group stopped and turned towards you, calling out. You could hear their footsteps following and you bit back a curse.

“Y/N, seriously, are you listening to us?” One of the guys, Mark, said.

You slowed your pace and turned, plastering a smile on your face.

Mark stood before you, Taeyong, Johnny and Haechan close behind. You knew them from high school. You had been friends, and you had always found them attractive. But nothing, nothing, compared to how you felt about Jaehyun.

Your eyes drifted to the ground.

“Who made our girl cry?” Taeyong asked, wrapping his arms around you. He could see through your fake smile.

You couldn't help but relax into him and rest your head on his shoulder. He rubbed your back gently.

The others came forward and touched you gently, Mark taking one of your hands, Johnny placing a hand on your head, and Haechan standing beside you and taking your other hand.

You didn’t want to cry anymore.

They held you for a while, silent. They had known for years about how you felt about Jaehyun. You couldn’t count the number of times you had called Taeyong, crying and begging him to come and hold you, the number of times Johnny had taken you for coffee or to the cinema, anything to get you out of your apartment and away from the sight of Jaehyun with someone else. Mark had sat up with you late at night, watching bad romcoms and eating popcorn. Haechan had brought you a new book every single day since the start of university, and you knew that the reason you had done so well was because of him.

They helped you through your worst times. And here they were again.

You finally stepped back, looking up at them and wiping the last of the tears away.

“Another girl this time?” Haechan asked softly.

“The one Yuta introduced him to at the last frat party.” You sighed, running your hand through your hair. "I've got all dolled up today thinking that something was different, that maybe today would be the day when he suddenly asked to meet me at the coffee shop alone. But I guess it was to introduce me to whatever her name was."

The boys stayed silent.

"Why don't you just tell him how you feel?" Johnny asked quietly.

You shook your head.

"He doesn't need to know. I'm okay." You sighed. "Besides, no matter how much I wear pretty clothes or put on makeup, or wear these stupid heels like always...he never looks my way. He never sees me. I must be ugly or something, I don't know."

"You are beautiful. Any guy would be lucky to have you." Haechan whispered.

"You guys are the best." You smiled and kissed their cheeks.

"Why don't we have a movie night? We can get pizza and snacks and just chill." Johnny smiled, linking his arm with yours.

"Drinks included?" You asked, your heart a little lighter than it had been a few moments ago.

"Of course." Mark laughed.

"And popcorn, lots of it." Taeyong grinned.

You walked with them back to your apartment, smiling and laughing at their jokes, letting yourself relax and forget about Jaehyun, at least for a little while.

Haechan opened your front door, grinning.

"Let's get wasted!" He whooped, making a beeline to the cabinet that you had stored all your drinks.

"Get some glasses." Mark laughed, following the younger boy.

You and Johnny made your way into the living room and dropped down onto the couch. Taeyong came back from the kitchen with plates and napkins, placing them on the table and sitting beside you.

Haechan and Mark carried all the drinks and snacks to the table and sat on the floor, sorting out the snacks.

You smiled, grateful for the four men in front of you. You would have gone mad without them.

The night was going well, you were sat between Taeyong and Johnny on the couch, leaning on Johnny and giggling as the film continued. Haechan was curled up on the other side of the couch, half asleep. Mark had disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a huge bowl of popcorn and settling on the floor next to Haechan.

Your phone buzzed and you frowned, looking down and seeing Jaehyun's name. You groaned and threw the phone to the other side of the couch, turning your attention back to the film.

"Don't you want to see what he wants?" Taeyong asked softly.

"Nope." You popped the 'p' and took another sip of your drink. "He can go fuck himself."

"He's texted you like a hundred times already." Haechan frowned, holding the phone out to you.

"So?"

"Y/N, just look. It could be important."

You groaned and snatched the phone from him, opening the messages and rolling your eyes.

Jae: Are you mad at me?

Jae: Seriously, you can't ignore me forever. Please reply. What the fuck did I do wrong? You are my best friend, talk to me.

Jae: This is not fucking funny. What is wrong with you?

"What's wrong with me?" You looked away from your phone, letting out a frustrated sigh as you passed your phone to Mark.

"You want me to reply?" Mark asked.

"Nope. Just turn off my phone. I don't care how many messages he leaves me." You got up, downing your drink. "I'm going to get more alcohol."

"You are going to regret this in the morning." Johnny called.

"At this point, I don't fucking care. I'm done with this. He wants to date the whole world then that's up to him. Not my fault."

You stumbled into the kitchen and opened the fridge, grabbing a bottle of vodka and poured a good amount into your cup, and making your way back to the guys. "I'll regret it later, but right now, I'm getting absolutely, fucking trashed."

The movie finished, and you had drunk more than enough alcohol to kill a horse.

You were lying on the couch, the others sitting around you.

"I don't want to be in love anymore. Why can't I stop?" You slurred, your eyes closed as you lay across the couch, your head on Johnny's lap and your feet in Haechan's.

"There will be someone else. Someone better." Johnny stroked your hair, smiling softly.

"I hope so. I really fucking do." You sighed.

You were drunk, you were sad, and you had cried a lot. But you were also tired.

And within minutes, you were asleep.

Jaehyun was worried. He had texted you, and called you. His texts went unanswered, his calls went straight to voicemail, and everyone else that was with you weren't answering his texts.

"What the fuck is going on with everyone tonight?" He muttered, throwing his phone onto his bed and falling onto the pillows.

He sighed, looking up at the ceiling and wondering why you wouldn't talk to him. He had seen you walk out of the cafe, and had wondered why you hadn't waited for him, why you had left so quickly.

He had wanted to ask, but had been distracted by the pretty girl that was sitting in front of him.

He couldn't deny that she was gorgeous and that he liked the way her dress clung to her figure.

But she wasn't you.

Jaehyun sighed and looked at his phone. The girl, Minah, had asked him out, and he had said yes.

She was the most recent in a long line of girls, all of whom had asked him out. He could barely remember their names. They were just something to occupy his time, something to fill the void in his chest when his mind drifted back to you. You, his beautiful best friend, who probably doesn't think of him as anything but a friend.

Jaehyun could imagine holding you, loving you, kissing you until your lips are red and swollen, only pulling away to pepper your skin in small, soft kisses that make you giggle. He wanted to be able to run his fingers through your hair, kiss the top of your head as he pulls you against him. He could see you wrapped up in his arms as the sun comes up, your soft breaths against his skin, your fingertips gently dancing across his body.

He wanted to be with you, wanted you in his life, not these random, forgettable girls. But he didn't know how to tell you, and so he resigned himself to this half-life.

He grabbed his phone and called you again, but still it rang and rang until finally the voicemail picked up. He didn’t bother leaving another message, knowing that you were deliberately not answering.

He knew that he should probably let you be, but the worry was building inside him. He was concerned. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

It was almost 2 am and you still hadn't replied to him.

Jaehyun stood up, his mind made up. He grabbed his keys, jacket, phone, wallet, and made his way out of his apartment to head to yours.

He walked slowly, thinking about you, wondering what had happened today. Had he done something wrong? Why had you left the coffee shop without him?

He reached your apartment, surprised that the lights were still on.

He knocked loudly, waiting impatiently for someone to answer the door.

After a moment, the door opened, and Mark stood in the doorway. "Hey, can't this wait? She's asleep."

"Is she okay?" Jaehyun tried to push past the shorter man, but Mark stopped him.

"Look, man, just go home. She doesn't want to talk to you." Mark sighed.

Jaehyun gave him a look. "Why the fuck not? I'm her best friend."

"Well, you have a fucking shitty way of showing it. Do you even know what you have put her through?" Johnny walked up behind Mark and glared at Jaehyun.

Jaehyun paused. "What are you talking about?"

"You are her best friend and you are so blind that you can't see what is right in front of your eyes." Johnny continued.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Jaehyun furrowed his eyebrows.

"For fucks sake." Johnny sighed. "Go home, Jae. Leave her alone for now."

"Tell her I'll call her tomorrow. I'll be back to check on her." Jaehyun turned and walked away, his head full of confusion.

Mark and Johnny shared a look.

"This is getting out of hand." Mark muttered.

"It'll work out. Let's get back inside. She needs us."

They closed the door and walked back into the living room, the others glancing at them.

"Is he gone?" Haechan asked.

"Yeah, for now. But I don't know how much longer we can keep this up. If he doesn't realize how she feels soon, it will destroy her." Mark sighed.

Taeyong moved from his seat and sat on the floor next to Haechan. "How many girls has he been with now?" He asked.

"I've lost count. There was the girl at the party last week, the one with the green dress. He dated her for two days before he realized that she wasn't going to give him anything other than her time. Then there was that blonde girl, she was nice, lasted a couple of weeks." Mark listed the girls that Jaehyun had brought around and introduced to you.

"How many of those girls did he fuck?" Haechan asked.

"Too many." Mark sighed.

"And she watches them all. She sits and listens to them talk about their dates and the things they've done, and she never says anything. She pretends to be happy for him, pretends that she is okay." Johnny looked over at your sleeping form.

"This needs to end." Haechan frowned. "Can't we just lock them in a room or something? Let them fuck it out or something? Surely it has to happen at some point."

"I'm with him." Taeyong looked at the rest of them.

"That...I guess that would work." Johnny nodded slowly.

"I could knock her out." Mark stood. "Give her something to drink, make it sweet or something... I could pick her up, put her somewhere..."

"No, Mark. No." Taeyong stopped him. "I'm pretty sure drugging her is illegal, even if you are doing it for a good cause. We don't need you getting arrested as well."

"Fine, fine." Mark threw his hands up and flopped down beside Haechan.

"Doesn't have to be drug-free." Haechan suggested.

"Again, Hae, not helping. We need Y/N and Jaehyun conscious if this is to go ahead." Johnny explained patiently.

"Yo, isn't the summer frat party coming up? We could lock them up in the laundry room since the door lock is broken?" Mark asked. “Like that shit won’t unlock from the inside.”

"Who knows what they could do then...no, wait. What if we kept them under a watch, like literally, all the time, until the frat party. At which point, we shove him in with her and she will have nowhere to escape to." Johnny sat up straight, eyes wide, an excited smile on his face.

"Okay. So far we have a plan to trap them at a frat party, and make sure they won't have any outside influences." Taeyong leaned back.

"Any other suggestions before we call this a success?" Johnny asked.

"Don't get caught." Haechan replied, grinning.

"Don't. Get. Caught." The others nodded.

#PREVIEW #nct #nct stories #nct fanfic #nct imagines #nct smut #jeong jaehyun #jaehyun smut #jaehyun #nct jaehyun

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geekforhorror · 7 months ago

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guess who just found out they have covid for the second time? me!!!!!

#i love life <3 #the universe literally picked the worst time #literally crying #anakin skywalker #hayden christensen #anakin skywalker smut #anakin smut #star wars #anakin skywalker x reader #star wars fanfiction #anakin imagine #star wars fandom #anakin star wars

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roosterforme · 10 months ago

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Adult Education Part 18 | Hangman x OC

Summary: It's hard for Jake to come to terms with the fact that Jessica thinks he's good enough for her. He doesn't want to doubt himself, but changing your habits is hard. Jessica feels like she's inching closer to getting tenure before Brian returns, and she allows herself a break from work to celebrate her boyfriend's birthday.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, oral, angst, language, mention drinking and driving, 18+

Length: 4000 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female OC

This story is part of the Beer Boy and Sugar universe but can be read on its own! Adult Education masterlist

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

Jake opened his eyes and groaned softly, snapping them closed again to shut out the warm sunlight on his face.

"Good morning." The softly whispered greeting and the gentle fingers in his hair told him he made it to Jessica's place before he passed out. And now he had a hangover. He lost control of himself last night at the bar, and he drove himself to his girlfriend's place and went to sleep like some sort of asshole.

"I'm sorry," he croaked, trying to swallow against his dry mouth. "I'm so sorry."

Jake felt her lips on his forehead, and he melted at the sweetness of it. He'd been terrible last night. Not at all the kind of man she deserved. "Do you want me to try to make you breakfast?" she asked, her lips skimming his ear.

"No. I want you to stay right here with me."

"Okay," she replied with a little laugh, and she let Jake hold onto her, tucking her head under his chin. Losing this now would be the worst thing that ever happened to him. "Did you have fun last night?"

He swallowed again. "I knew you were busy, and I didn't even mean to bother you."

The way she touched him was almost too much to handle. Her fingers were teasing along the shell of his ear as she played with his hair. "I'm not too busy for you."

Jake opened his eyes again to see Jessica looking up at him. She was actually perfect, and it hurt him to say, "There were some girls at the bar last night when I was with Bradshaw."

The puckered wrinkle that appeared between her eyebrows sent him into an immediate panic. "Oh." She started to pull away from him, but he couldn't let her.

"Jessica." His voice was just a harsh whisper. "No. Not that." She froze up in his arms as he said, "I just... I've never turned women down before." He felt absolutely disgusting admitting that out loud to her, but he had to. He kind of even needed to hear himself say it. "Last night was the first time. Because of you. Because of us."

Her posture softened incrementally as she asked, "What happened?"

It was more the way he felt about everything. "Nothing really happened," he replied, kissing her cheek. "Just me feeling like I'm not good enough for you. And then I drank too much."

She was quiet for a moment, and he braced himself for her judgement. Surely if he could see he wasn't good enough for her, then it must be glaringly obvious to Jessica too. But her fingers made their way back up into his hair. "I take it they flirted with you and Bradley? Tried to get you to buy them drinks? Touched you?"

"Yeah," he grunted. "Wanted us to teach them how to play pool. I had to aggressively tell them no. Then I sat at the bar with Penny after Bradley left to pick up his wife. I drank a little too much and then called you."

Jessica wrapped her arms around his neck and snuggled in closer again. "Are you sure you don't want breakfast?"

He was completely taken aback. Jessica's fingers skimmed the hair at the back of his neck as she kissed his nose and cheek. "You're not upset? That I literally floundered over how to say no to someone? That I didn't even know how?"

She shook her head slightly. "Why would I be upset? You're handsome and funny. You're going to get hit on. Girls are going to flirt with you and touch you. Are you going to cheat on me?"

"No!" That was the easiest question he'd ever answered. Last night caught him off guard and threw him for a loop, but that was never a question at all. "Of course not."

"Okay, then," she whispered. "I think I understand how you used to be with women, and I'm not upset about it. I don't think you'd be as good of a boyfriend as you are if you weren't serious about me."

"I'm serious," he told her, tangling his fingers in her long hair. "I am."

She grinned and closed her eyes, before her smile faded a bit. "You didn't judge me when I told you about Brian."

Jake ground his molars together. "Because absolutely none of that was your fault, Baby."

"Well, you didn't do anything wrong either." But then she froze, eyes fixed on his face. "Wait. Did you drive yourself here last night?"

He swallowed hard. "I did."

"Jake!" she gasped, panic in her voice. "What were you thinking?!"

Jessica rolled him onto his back and straddled his waist with her hands on his chest, and she looked like she was on the verge of tears. He rubbed her arms as he said, "I sat at the bar and tried to sober up first, but I needed you."

She actually sobbed. "Don't do that ever again! You could get hurt. Or hurt someone else. You could have called me for a ride." Tears fell from her eyes and slid down her cheeks, and it hit Jake right in the jugular that she was more upset about this than anything else.

"Come here," he whispered, collecting her against his body. "I'm so sorry, Jess. I'll call you next time. Or I'll get a ride. I was so caught off guard without you around, I couldn't even think straight."

Her lips found his neck as she said, "Well next weekend is your birthday, so I'll be at your fancy Navy bar with you then."

"That'll be perfect."

She laughed softly. "But I'm used to the literal dive bar that is Chippy's, so I might not fit in."

"You will. And Penny has Sam Adams."

With another kiss to his neck, she sat up on him and wiped her eyes. "Breakfast?"

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

Jessica wasn't oblivious to the signs. She knew Jake must have been a bit of a playboy before. It seemed like maybe she was the first girlfriend he was serious about. And she was okay with that. Very okay with that. If he was trying to get his footing under him, then that meant he wanted this to last.

He stumbled into her kitchen, half dressed with his hair sticking up everywhere and Jessica in his arms. "I'll make breakfast. You might never have to cook again."

"Oh, I love the sound of that," she giggled as he looked in her refrigerator with one arm wrapped around her waist.

"Okay, you really need to go grocery shopping, Jess."

"What's the point? You've been spoiling me nonstop."

He just grunted, but he had a smile on his face, and a few minutes later, she was eating an omelette. Between bites, she asked, "What do you want for your birthday?"

"Nothing," he replied, taking a bite of his own breakfast.

She smirked. "Maybe a quiet night in together?"

"I want that every day, Baby," he said as he inhaled the rest of his food. "Not just for my birthday."

If he really didn't want anything, she hoped he wouldn't be annoyed that she got him something. She had it all wrapped and ready to go by the middle of the week.

On Wednesday morning, she was standing at the front of her largest lecture, organizing her notes, when she saw Dr. Rosenthal bustle in. He looked tired, and once again Jessica felt bad that there would be no way to really repay him for everything he was doing for her.

She hopes this would be the lecture that really wowed him. She'd been teaching these topics since she was a grad student, and she was damn good at it. He was still getting his notebook ready when she was about to call everyone to attention, and that's when she heard it. Skateboard wheels on the industrial tile floor. Luca skated in through the lecture hall doors, and then he popped his board up into the air. It looked like he was still in his pajamas, and Jessica wanted to die from the look of disgust on Dr. Rosenthal's face.

"Luca," Jessica said, shooting him a pleading look.

"Hey, Dr. Reed," he greeted. "Surf's looking good today, but here I am!"

She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. Maybe trying to relate to her students and find common ground with them during her office house wasn't the way to go after all. When she opened her eyes, Dr. Rosenthal was shuffling some papers around; he had all of her notes, including those regarding which students were passing and which ones were failing. He would see Luca's low grade any second now, and she hoped this wouldn't hurt her.

But Luca's grade was slowly but surely coming up in this class, and Jessica was actually really proud of all the work and effort he was putting in. And she immediately resigned herself to the fact that it would be more important for one of her students to be comfortable and confident enough in her class to get a passing grade than it would be for her to get tenure. Luca brought up a few wrinkled pages and handed them to her with a smile before taking his seat next to his skateboard. It was all of the extra practice problems she gave him during her office hours last night. He'd finished all of them in less than a day, and they looked to be correct at first glance.

She nodded at him, set them aside and collected herself. She made a few announcements and ensured that everyone's attention was focused on her, and then she started teaching. Even though she knew Rosenthal was there, she tried not to look at him. Surprisingly, when she asked if anyone could answer one of the problems she wrote out on the board, Luca raised his hand.

When Jessica called on him, he said, "I think it's like.... 200 meters per second?"

"Yes!" she replied, kind of surprised but very pleased. "Nice work, Luca." And honestly, that's why she was here. Even though she had to teach Brian's class which was outside of her wheelhouse later this afternoon, she would get more practice problems ready for Luca as well.

At lunchtime, Jessica decided to stop by and see if her friend was around. They wouldn't be able to talk much about the tenure review, but at least maybe they could eat together. Besides, her office was bigger and nicer, and the math hallways were quiet at this time of day.

Jessica could hear her friend's soft laughter before she saw her, and when her office door came into view, she was standing there with her husband. "I don't want to go back to work," he told her with a smirk on his lips and his big hand on her butt. "I want to stay for round two. Maybe sit in one of your lectures and be your top student." When she tried to sneak away unnoticed, Bradley called out, "Hey, Jess." His wife spun around with a smile, but he kept his hands all over her.

"Hi! Did you stop by for lunch?"

"Yeah," Jessica replied, and she was sure her cheeks were flushed. "But you look busy."

Bradley kissed the side of his wife's neck and whispered something in her ear that made her eyes go wide, and then he was walking away as he told her, "I love you." He winked at Jessica and said, "I was just leaving. Have a nice afternoon."

Jessica held her little lunch container from Jake and examined her friend's dreamy expression. This wasn't the first time she felt like she was interrupting them, and she wondered how often Bradley actually stopped by for a few minutes at lunchtime. And then she felt her cheeks grow warmer. "Sorry I'm interrupting... again."

Her friend laughed. "You're not. He interrupted my lunch."

"Yeah," Jessica whispered. "But he brought you dessert."

Both of them were laughing hysterically as Jessica followed her into her office.

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

Jake knew Jessica was busy, but he always felt better when he was with her. He'd been avoiding her office hours so she had time to keep tabs on the new students she'd absorbed from Brian's class, but that also meant he didn't get to have a mid week sleepover. On Friday night, he caved and called her when she was probably on her way home from campus. Tomorrow was his birthday, and he'd been hoping to have her sleepover, but he wasn't about to invade her schedule at the moment. He stripped off his undershirt and collapsed on his bed as the phone rang and rang.

"Jake!" she gushed when she answered. Even the sound of her voice made him a little dizzy. "How's the birthday boy?"

He chuckled. "That's not until tomorrow."

"I know," she said, "but it's really a celebration all weekend long, right?"

"If you say so, Baby."

"I do say so," she replied. "I'm just getting in my car now."

He hummed as he thought about her in one of her little skirts and sweater sets and high heels, and almost instantly his cock responded. "You're getting in your car?" he repeated, picturing her sliding across the soft leather interior.

His hand slipped inside his black briefs without him even thinking about what he was doing. It had been more than five days since he'd fucked his girlfriend, and he was starting to ache. He had no idea how he'd ever be able to handle a deployment now as he wrapped his hand around his cock.

"Yeah, but there's a road closed, so it's probably going to take me forever," she mused as he heard the engine start up.

Jake grunted. "Just as long as you get home safe, Baby. You want to tell me about your day?"

"It was so good!" She sounded really upbeat and excited, and Jake tried to listen to every detail with his hand just sitting there, but it was impossible. Her voice was too sweet. She was the only one he ever wanted. He started stroking himself when she said, "I was thinking about you all afternoon. I taught the same problem that you answered correctly in my back to school mini lecture. You know... the night we met."

He moaned. "Best night of my fucking life." He pulled himself free of the elastic and stroked himself slowly as he said, "Imagine, a hottie with a PhD offering to buy me a three dollar beer."

She giggled which left him groaning. Then the line went quiet. "Are you... what are you.... it sounds like you're touching yourself?"

"I am," he replied. "I just started. Your voice is too sweet, Jessica."

"Oh," she sighed. "Guess what I'm wearing."

"Fuck. You're making it worse," he complained playfully. "Are you in one of those little skirts?"

"You know, I think I might be."

"And high heels?"

"Always."

"And one of those soft little sweaters?" he moaned.

"Yes, my green one."

That one was his favorite. It was the same shade of green as that lingerie set he loved. He was a mess, looking down at his cock, unsure whether he wanted to rub this out quickly or make it last. "I wish you were coming over tonight, but I know you're busy as hell."

"Jake, of course I'm coming over. I'm already most of the way there. Don't you want me to?"

He let out a sigh of relief. "Jesus, Jessica. I need you. Yes, I want you to come over."

She laughed and asked, "Are you going to keep touching yourself until I get there?"

He took a few deep breaths. "If I do that, then I won't be any fun when you get here and I only last three minutes."

"Maybe that's true... but I'm sure you can muster up what's needed for round two. Right?"

"For you? Absolutely," he promised as he eased his hand up and down his length.

"I'll be there in five," Jessica said before ending the call, and Jake stood and tried to walk around his condo. His dick was rock hard, and he occasionally stroked himself to relieve some of the need, but he wanted to wait for his girl.

"Damn," he groaned through gritted teeth. He hung out of the top of his underwear and bounced with every step he took. Then he finally heard the knock on his door. He opened it without even checking to make sure it was her, and Jessica gasped when she saw him.

"Hi," she said as her wide eyes and parted lips gave way to a little smirk. She was wearing the little outfit he'd been able to picture just perfectly, and her hair hung around her face in soft waves. "Want me to take care of that for you, birthday boy?"

"If you wouldn't mind," he replied, closing the door behind her, and much to his delight, she tossed her bag aside and dropped right to her knees. His cock was inside her warm, wet mouth immediately, and he was being treated to the luxury of her tongue drawing lazy circles along his length. "Jessica."

She hummed as she took him deep and started to suck, and he knew it was absolutely a lost cause. He just smoothed his hand along her hair before taking a fistful at the back of her head and let himself enjoy this. He grunted softly at the perfect feel of her as she bobbed along, looking up at him with crooked glasses.

"Fuck." He came as soon as her fingers grazed his balls, and he watched her sputter and swallow all of him down. Her movements started to slow, and he was almost twitching from overstimulation when she finally withdrew him with a little pat on his hip.

She was smiling up at him as he released her hair. "Shit, Jessica. What was I thinking? You shouldn't have been walking around alone after dark, Baby."

She kissed his thigh, and then he started to pull her to her feet. "It's not that dark out yet, and besides, a very nice man with a knife walked me inside from the parking lot." When his eyes went wide, she cupped his cheek and said, "I'm only kidding."

He groaned and kissed her, tasting his cum in her mouth which just made him feel even more protective. In a lot of ways, he was still getting used to being in a relationship, but he really didn't want to fuck this up. "Next time, even if it isn't quite dark yet, I will come down and walk you inside."

"Even if you have an erection?" she asked, snuggling up in his arms.

"Especially if I have an erection. It'll scare off the guys with knives," he whispered, making her laugh. The words were right there. They were always right there. He realized it after the fact that he almost told the girls at the bar last weekend that he was in love with his girlfriend. He kissed her forehead and said, "I wasn't sure if you were coming, so I only have leftovers."

Jessica moaned. "Jake Seresin leftovers are still peak gourmet, and I'm starving."

He scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the kitchen and set her down on the counter before he tucked himself back in his underwear. She was all smiles as he opened the refrigerator and started naming what he had in there. "Surprise me," she whispered, and he started heating up a huge bowl of chili to share with her.

When he pulled out two forks, he kissed her cheek and said, "Why don't you tell me all about your week? And then I'll take you to bed."

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

Jessica thought about saving his present for later, but right at midnight, she kissed him and whispered, "Happy birthday." He smiled even though his eyes were closed where he lay on the pillow next to her, completely sated. He'd done a fine job of unwrapping her, kissing every inch of her legs before removing her skirt. Tasting her everywhere while she modeled her green lingerie for him. Fucking her nice and slow until she was practically begging for more.

When she started to climb out of bed, he reached for her hand. "Where you going?" His voice was raspy and sounded a little tired.

"To get your birthday present."

"I only wanted you," he replied, and she just looked at him and wondered how he could be so sweet. She loved the way he really seemed to care what she was doing and wanted to be involved. He'd been sweet through the fraternity fundraiser and even through everything with Brian. Honestly, the little wrapped box inside her overnight bag didn't contain much, but she hoped it would convey how she felt.

"Well you got me and something else, too," she whispered, kissing his hand before slipping out of bed. She could feel his eyes on her naked body as she rooted around for the gift, and then she returned with it. She handed it to him and slipped back in bed next to him. "You can open it now since it's officially your birthday."

He just looked at the black and green striped wrapping paper for a few seconds, and then he set it down and turned toward her. Jake kissed her with so much feeling, it knocked her breath out of her lungs. "Thank you," he whispered, his forehead resting against hers as he stroked her cheek with his rough thumb. "I can't even remember the last time I got an actual birthday gift. Even my mom and dad just send me a gift card every year."

She kissed him this time before she said, "Well maybe you should lower your expectations a little bit." But he just shook his head as he picked up the box and started to unwrap it.

"Jessica," he whispered when he held the framed print of a Super Hornet in one hand. "This is so cool."

She smiled as he examined it closely, taking in all of the hand drawn lines and detailed markups. "It's kind of like the top secret F/A-18 schematics that you let me look at."

He turned toward her and raised an eyebrow. "Baby, I stole those for you."

She could feel her cheeks heat up as she buried her face in his neck. "I know," she whispered. "And I thought this would always remind you of me."

He gently set the frame down on his nightstand and pulled her on top of him. "Everything reminds me of you. And I think about you all the time."

But she still felt embarrassed for no reason even though she was basking in his words. She kissed his neck softly and reached up to run her fingers through his hair as she whispered, "Same, birthday boy."

She was starting to doze off when he said, "In the morning, will you help me decide where to hang my gift?"

"Of course."

"And we can make waffles again? And if you're a good girl, I'll eat your pussy again."

She giggled. "If that's what you want for your birthday breakfast, then sure."

He let his hand trail down her back to squeeze her butt. "That's absolutely what I want for breakfast. A real culinary treat." She rolled her eyes, but he didn't seem to be kidding. "And then tomorrow night, I'll take you to the bar and show you off to all my friends."

"And you'll buy me a Sam Adams while I cheat on Chippy."

Jake barked out a laugh. "What Chippy doesn't know won't hurt him, Baby."

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

The birthday boy better buy her all the Sam Adams she wants. And I just know for a fact Chippy will be able to tell she went to another bar! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 19

@blahehblah

@sotalife

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@furiouspiespytaco

@rosiahills22

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@je-suis-prest-rachel

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407 notes · View notes

fantazygirl-blog1 · 4 months ago

Text

I'd literally die for a fic where Light actually realizes that killing L is counterproductive to his goal as Kira.

Think about it, as he is, Light, while a genius with death note powers, is just a random university student after all. He doesn't have connections, or influence in powerful circles. He also lacks proper access to information abt the world's worst criminals who are still being investigated and may never even be brought on as a suspect on an ongoing case. And while Light's family isn't poor, they're comfortably middle class. Light doesn't really have that many resources, and if he had gone on with his plan to become a police officer, he wouldn't be able to get much more than that.

Meanwhile, L is literally a world renowned detective, clearly has connections and influence over very high up people. He has the trust of most world's governments. Being a detective so highly sought after, he obviously has access to a hella lot of classified information abt very dangerous criminals Light would LOVE to get rid of. L is also filthy rich, so that wouldn't be a problem either.

So clearly, Light working together with L would be the smartest, most efficient way to achieve Kira's initial goals. Light is supposed to be a master at manipulation, scheming and charismatically convince people to be on his side (and let's not forget that manipulation and scheming are Lawlight's brand of flirting) so why wouldn't he try to seduce L to see things from his perspective?

Like, I want to see Light aggressively scheming to get L on his side while L is just there like wtf is going on, why isn't he trying to kill me? I want canon-like intense mind games except L and Light are on totally different pages. I want L to immediately see through Light's attempts at manipulation and fall even more in love with the total evil asshole that makes L feel alive for the first time. I want them both one upping each other and annoying each other and finally working together as they should be.

Does anyone know ANY fic like this? Or if not, is anyone interested in picking up this idea?

#lawlight #l lawilet #yagami light #death note #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction ideas #rambles #random thoughts #boyfriends

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caligvlasaqvarivm · 2 months ago

Note

I've been reading your Erikar posts and I think that they work really well with the idea that moirallegiance really doesn't work the way it's "supposed" to. It's framed in-universe as a very one-sided "stable person pacifies dangerous person" deal, but both Erifef and Gamkar, which are basically platonic ideals of that concept, failed independently because of how unstable that dynamic is -- one person is worn out doing all the emotional labor and the other is not interested in being pacified. Whereas the meowrails, despite also being framed as a "classical" moirallegiance, are much more clearly two-sided, as both parties consistently help, listen to, and advise each other, and the relationship is consequently much stabler and more enduring. I love the way you frame Erikar because it works really well with this by showing both parties taking and giving "pacification" and support in turn, instead of one shouldering all the work.

Yeah! I think this is a good way to talk about something Hussie likes to do that I'm a huge fan of, which is: unreliable narration. This unreliable narration has garnered Hussie the reputation of being a "troll" or even flat-out "wrong" about HS, and I find both of these to be very unfair because the use of unreliable narrator is both deliberate AND thematically fitting.

As part of Homestuck's post-modern stylings (and I mean post-modern in the literature sense, not vis. art, though it has shades of that too), it plays heavily on the ideas of narrator-as-character, author-as-character, metafiction, and we-all-know-it's-a-story-itis. Hussie himself, even in his external commentaries (Formspring, Tumblr, Books, etc.), is fully aware that his additions add to the metatextual texture of the work and change how it's interpreted - that, although his additions technically lie external to the "story" Homestuck is telling, they are also paradoxically part and parcel of that very story.

As a result, they deliberately play a character WRT Homestuck, both in- and out-of-universe, and this character is, by their own admission, buffoonish and oafish. It's really apparent in their book commentary, where they'll sometimes even drop the act, or "realize" they've dropped the act and hurry to put it back on (a standout moment is when he provides a very genuine, honest analysis of Vriska, before going "oh, wait, I forgot, she's literally my wife and has never done anything wrong ever in her life ever"). They also mention how their narrative voice sometimes works antagonistically to the characters, such as when it assures Vriska that she has no choice but to kill Aradia, subtly pushing Vriska towards that option.

Functionally, neither the narrator nor the author (and by that, I mean the caricaturized character of "the author" that Hussie plays) of Homestuck are entities that you can take fully at face value; they need to be challenged and interrogated as much as any other character, have their motives dissected, have their blind spots pointed out.

And why would this need to be the case? Because that's literally one of the main thrusts of Homestuck: malicious entities (in HS's case, LE, Doc Scratch, and Caliborn, who at various times struggle with Hussie for control of the story, before killing him and wresting it away entirely) will attempt to write the narrative. They'll push their version of events, their politics, their biases, their philosophies. They'll try to change the story to suit them and perpetuate their own power and ability to enforce that power. And you can't let them win.

Hussie-as-a-character/narrator himself is not particularly malicious, and, as the narrative prompt serving as Caliborn's guide, is even ultimately sympathetic, expressing that kids need to grow up and mature, achieve self-actualization, emotional catharsis, etc.

However, as a result of his oafishness, he has a tendency to play to the characters' worst instincts, to pick favorites among the cast. The most blatant example of this is his "love" of Vriska, which - contrary to popular opinion - isn't "real". Hussie is not actually in love with Vriska; the whole thing started because - due to misogyny - people accused Hussie of only giving Vriska so much plot relevance because he was literally in love with her. Why else would a female character with an unpleasant personality be allowed to be important, amirite? And Hussie clearly thought that this whole thing was so ridiculous that he 100% leaned into it as a joke. I'm not here to litigate whether or not it was appropriate to do so, just to point out that Hussie's "love" of Vriska was always an artifice - an aspect of Hussie-as-character that he played up to highlight the fact that Hussie-as-character is an unreliable buffoon, and, by extension, that Vriska is not blameless and perfect.

Since this is the Eridan blog, I'd be remiss not to talk about him. Hussie's commentary towards Eridan is especially fascinating to me, because Eridan is one of he characters Hussie-as-character is biased against, in a similar way as he's biased in Vriska's favor. Thus, his attitude towards Eridan is very dismissive, both in the book commentary AND in the comic itself. "Gamzee: Indulge emotional theatrics" and "Jade: Answer this douche bag" come to mind. He also spends the vast majority of the Act 5 Act 2 book mocking Eridan for being sad and alone, with nobody to care about him and nobody who listens to his problems.

Now, the reason I call this fascinating is twofold: the first is that his commentary in the Act 5 Act 1 book has a WILDLY different tone: while he's still biased in Eridan's disfavor, he outright calls Eridan a "good character" alongside Nepeta, and offers genuine insight into his characterization and the powers of Hope - comparing him at one point to Dave if Dave took a much darker path.

So when his attitude changes from "he's a shithead, but fairly complex, I guess" to "he's a loser idiot that nobody likes LMAOOOO", you're supposed to notice that! You're supposed to question that, to wonder why he has a change of heart, why he's suddenly so dismissive of a character he was genuinely writing whole paragraphs about before.

And the answer is multifaceted:

He's playing up his buffoonish character, to let you know that he's about to be wrong as hell. Every time Hussie starts really amping up the Hussie-as-character persona, you're about to be in for an opinion that SHOULD NOT be taken at face value.

He's reflecting a common fandom opinion, because one of his favorite things to do as an unreliable narrator is to speak on behalf of another character or entity, highlighting the biases and blind spots in play - in this case, the audience's. Again, he's about to be wrong as hell, so he's doing this specifically to indicate that the audience members who believe this are also wrong as hell.

Act 5 Act 2 is when we get the one conversation in all of Homestuck where somebody (Karkat) cares about Eridan and takes his problems seriously. During this part of the story, Hussie goes COMPLETELY silent. This is incredibly out of character, as he usually can't shut up, and the commentary is usually dense, packed with words, without pause. Compare:

In those blocks of silence are contained the conversation Eridan has with Karkat where Karkat literally tells him "I know it's hard being you" and that Nepeta's rejection of him wasn't a negative reflection of him. In other words, Karkat cares about Eridan and takes him seriously, COMPLETELY contradicting Hussie-as-character's assertions that nobody does, so utterly that Hussie-as-character has to completely shut up during that entire sequence because he has no way of reconciling his stance with the evidence presented.

Now, Hussie-as-an-actual-person is completely aware of what they're doing, or else they couldn't do stuff like this so consistently and so precisely. So I want to be very, very clear that this is not Hussie "not understanding his own story" or whatever BS the fandom likes to say in order to cast Hussie as the villain. This is masterful usage of unreliable narrator, like, I'm genuinely impressed.

By acting a clown and insisting that nobody likes or cares about Eridan, the audience is MEANT to glean from the text:

That Karkat is clearly an exception, and he quite likes and cares about Eridan,

That those who are dismissive towards Eridan and treat him purely as an object of ridicule are Wrong as Hell,

That maybe it's not a good thing for us - both audience, author, and characters - to be so quick to judge and dismiss others just because they're annoying and nasty - that doing so can have dire consequences, as we see with how Eridan's story plays out.

And I'm not kidding when I say that we have to be constantly fucking vigilant, that there's very, very little that can be purely taken at face value. Not long after this is one of Karkat's memos, where he attempts to warn his past friends about all the murders, only to dismiss past!Gamzee by saying that current!Gamzee going crazy murderclown "barely even concerns [him]." Hussie then notes in the commentary - and not for the first time - that Karkat has a Problem(TM) with not seeing past/future versions of people as contiguous with their current selves, which he does as a defense mechanism so as not to confront his own feelings of shame and self-loathing. Hussie then proceeds not to comment on the following:

CCG: YOU ARE DEAD TO ME CCG: PAST YOU, PRESENT YOU, FUTURE YOU CCG: AND ABOVE ALL, UGLY SCARFNECKED DOUCHEBAG HIPSTER YOU CCG: WAIT I FORGOT, ALL OF THE YOUS ARE THAT YOU

Hmmm... interesting. I wonder why Hussie points out one of Karkat's running character traits, just to "forget" to notice when an exception happens directly after? I'll let this one be an exercise for the class.

So to tie it all back to your ask: why is the exposition on troll romance done the way it is? What are the narrator's motives? Hussie even outright states in the commentary that Kanaya/Tavros/Vriska, which is used as an example of an auspicetism, isn't even a real auspicetism, as Kanaya feels no need to commit to it, and at most is putting out mixed signals - it's just used as an example because it's the closest thing we've seen.

Well, the answer I've arrived at, personally, is that the troll romance explanation is as flawed as it is because the narrator is taking on Karkat's point of view. A movie poster on Karkat's wall, the troll version of Serendipity, is used and namedropped as the ultimate expression of meeting your soul mate in every quadrant - as well as the assertion that "every" troll believes that there ARE destined soul mates for every quadrant, which Karkat definitely believes, but isn't a sentiment necessarily shared by everybody else. Moreover, the explanation ends with a tirade about how Karkat tried to explain quadrants to John, who didn't get it because "he's an idiot".

I'm not saying that Karkat is literally narrating here, just to be clear - I'm saying that the narrator (Hussie-as-character) is relaying factual information as processed through the lens of Karkat's biases, and, as a result, we can't take the explanation at 100% face value (though we can't discount it as entirely untrue, either). It's not so much that "real" moirail pairs work because they're doing moirallegiance "wrong," but that Karkat's view of moirallegiance is simplistic, idealized, and flawed, and we see this play out when he's bitter about his breakup with Gamzee because Gamzee stops "needing" him to keep him calm, even after Karkat has failed to be kept calm by Gamzee in return.

The more I look into Homestuck, the more that I'm genuinely impressed by the way it handles its writing. I hope this was interesting to everyone, too. I feel a little like I'm peeling back a curtain, or opening up a clock to reveal all the little cogs and wheels.

No, you can't trust Hussie as the narrator, but that's on purpose, and it's on purpose because why do we trust narrators? Why do we assume people telling a story are unbiased, benevolent, and have no ulterior motives? Why do we let idiots, assholes, predators, and monsters get away with their version of the truth, when a little scrutiny will have the whole ruse fall apart? Why do we let people tell us not to care about other people, why do we let them tell us that it's okay to be cruel to acceptible targets, why do we let them go unexamined?

And how about the stories we tell ourselves?

#homestuck #eridan ampora #karkat vantas #gamzee makara #vriska serket #writing #unreliable narrator #postmodernism #post-modernism #homestuck is good actually and hussie is an incredible writer

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novamariestark · 2 months ago

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Can I get a Dean Winchesterx reader using prompts 9 and 10 off list one and prompt 46 off list two, please?

Summary: A quiet date night with Dean gets interrupted.

Warnings: proofread but there's always a mistake after posting 🤣

Word count: 1229

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Prompts: “LITERALLY EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS IS ILLEGAL!” “Did you just... agree with me?” “I'm actually going to kill you”

[A/N] hope you like 😁

How did we even get here? Sometimes, life takes a strange turn, almost as if the universe decides to have a little fun with you—except you’re not laughing. The night had started so differently. It was supposed to be simple—normal even. Sam had dropped the two of you off at that tiny, run-down bar a few miles outside town, giving you some space for your long-awaited “date night.” You were supposed to have a quiet evening, maybe a few drinks, some laughs. No monsters. No hunts.

But, because some idiot stumbled into the bar, raving about a “monster” they’d seen outside town that meant date night was over. You’d barely finished your drink before you were dragged out, headed straight for where the alleged sighting had taken place. The kicker? Sam had taken the Impala to pick up some supplies, promising to come back later. So here you were, stranded without Baby, crouched behind a row of garbage bins like a couple of amateurs. This is not how you imagined your alone time with Dean would go. You had hoped for something more... normal.

Dean was in front of you, so at least you had something nice to look at. You’d be lying if you said he didn’t look good, but seriously? This was the worst idea he’d had all week—and that was saying something. At first you thought you had heard him wrong but oh no. You had heard him right.

You glanced at him, unable to believe what was coming out of his mouth. “Are you seriously suggesting we rob a cop car?” you asked, trying to keep your voice calm, even though you were two seconds away from smacking some sense into him.

Dean turned to you with that infuriatingly casual grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Borrow,” he corrected, like that made it better. “It’s not illegal if we give it back.”

You stared at him for a moment, your brain struggling to comprehend the sheer level of Dean Winchester logic you were dealing with right now. He had to be joking. But he wasn’t. He was dead serious.

“Okay,” you shot back, your voice dripping with so much sarcasm that it could be visible, “maybe next we can walk into the nearest bank and help ourselves to the entirety of the vault. You know, for funsies.” Dean’s only response was to roll his eyes, still not seeing the problem. You took a deep breath as you waved your hands around for emphasis. “LITERALLY EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS IS ILLEGAL!”

Honestly, you weren’t sure whether to laugh or scream. You were a hunter—a damn good one. You could handle ghosts, demons, and all manner of monsters that most people couldn’t even fathom. And yet, here you were, stuck with this idiot, debating grand theft auto like it was something minute like, who’s turn it was to wash the dishes.

You gave him the deadliest deadpan look you could muster, hoping he’d catch a hint of how ridiculous he sounded. “I’m actually going to kill you.”

Dean’s grin only widened, those green eyes glimmering in the dim light. “But you’ll look good doing it.”

You rolled your eyes, though you could feel the faint heat creeping up your neck. His charm was both your kryptonite and your fuel—it was hard to stay mad when he looked at you like that, but then again, it also made you want to throw something at him. Preferably something heavy.

Glancing back at the cop car, you sighed. This was ridiculous. Utterly insane. The rational part of your brain screamed at you to shut this down, to come up with a better plan. But the other part—the part that had been on countless hunts with Dean, the part that trusted him more than anyone else—knew you were probably going to go along with it anyway.

“Fine,” you sighed, the word leaving your lips before you even knew you thought it.

The second it slipped out, you mentally kicked yourself. Seriously? Fine? Fine? Really? That’s all it took? One look from him, and you were ready to throw common sense out the window? You weren’t fine. Yet somehow, here you were, agreeing to what had to be the stupidest plan Dean Winchester had ever come up with. And that was a long list.

Dean’s voice cut through your spiralling thoughts, pulling you back to the present. “Did you just... agree with me?” His tone was laced with mock disbelief, but that smirk—oh, that damn smirk—said it all. He was enjoying this way too much, and it didn’t help that the glint in his eyes practically sparkled.

You hated that look. The one that always made your stomach do flips, like a rollercoaster you swore you’d never ride again, but kept getting back on anyway. It wasn’t just the smirk. It was Dean. He had this magnetic pull, and no matter how much your brain screamed No!, your heart—and apparently your mouth—tended to betray you in his presence.

“Don’t get used to it,” you muttered, crossing your arms, trying to regain some control over the situation. You weren’t completely rolling over here. You’d follow him into the fire, sure—but you’d still give him hell for it.

Dean winked, already turning his attention back to the car, pulling out his lock-picking tools and started to unlock the car, “Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you,” he whispered, shooting you another wink and that cheeky smirk of his that sometimes you wanted to smack and others, kiss until you both looked like smurfs.

Your heart fluttered in spite of itself as you tried to ignore the way he seemed so damn... charming while committing a felony. His words floated around your head. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you.” Oh, you knew exactly what he was implying. Your lips twitched involuntarily. Damn him.

You crossed your arms, glaring at the back of his head, “What? My criminal record?”

Dean finally got the lock to pop, a click breaking the silence. He stood up, turning back to you with that grin, “See? Easy as pie.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, but you love it,” he said, with the cocky tone in his voice because he knew he wasn’t wrong. You hated how much he knew it, how much he knew you.

You took a step closer to him, eyes narrowing as you shot him a pointed look. “Just get in the damn car, Winchester.”

Dean chuckled as he pulled the door open, “After you, sweetheart,” he said, gesturing to the passenger seat.

You climbed into the car, the faint smell of cheap air freshener and coffee mixing with the cool air of the night. Dean slid in beside you, looking far too pleased with himself. The engine roared to life, and as the tires crunched over gravel, you couldn’t help but shoot him another sideways glance.

“So, what’s the plan, genius?” you asked, crossing your arms as if that might protect you.

Dean shrugged, “Find the monster, kill the monster, return the car—no harm, no foul.”

“If we end up in jail, you’re explaining this to Sam.” You said, leaning back into the seat, propping your elbow on the door, and resting your chin on your palm.

#female reader #reader insert #supernatural #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester imagine

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loveforsatoru · 8 months ago

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hello !!!!!!!!!

I don't have anything specific, so idk, satoru with a five years old daughter? he would be such a cute and loving father 😓 i’m done, this life where I can't have satoru’s baby is killing me!!!!

this idea is so cute. i literally think about satoru as a dad all the time and it gives me major baby fever.

—

you never once thought that you could ever be this happy. what did you do to deserve it? maybe it’s the universe paying you back for all the times you’ve suffered in life both alone and your relationship with satoru. you’d been dating since high school, but it wasn’t easy. there was so much ache, time spent apart, and issues that you didn’t know if you could overcome. sleepless nights, occasional arguments and interference from your jobs drove your relationship into rocky paths, but at the end of the day, he never forgot to tell you he loved you even when you felt like the most unloveable person alive. through all the difficult times, the highs and the lows, he was always there and never once intended on leaving, so he sealed that promise with a ring and his vows.

you got married a couple years after high school. you were only 22, but your life couldn’t have turned out more perfect. it’s been 10 years and the love never died down. if anything, it grows with each passing day. now that you have a five year old daughter together, there’s only more to look forward to in the days to come.

satorus been away on a mission for a few weeks and you still have no idea when he’s going to come back. it hurts your daughter just as much as it hurts you. everyday, she asks when he’s going to come home and it breaks your heart to tell her, “i don’t know, but it’ll be soon.” when you weren’t even sure yourself. thankfully, satoru could never forget about the two most important people in his life and remembers to call in the morning and before your daughter goes to sleep, never missing a day.

besides today. your phone hasn’t rang once and it’s making you uneasy, your head racing with the worst possible thoughts. you have faith in satoru and his strength, but you can’t help but worry about him. he works a dangerous job and coming home is never a 100% guarantee.

you’re snapped out of trance when you feel a tug on your dress and little voice. your daughter is looking up at you, small hands tightly balled around the fabric of your dress while her blue eyes, identical to her fathers start to well up with tears.

“what’s wrong, baby?” you ask, picking her up into your arms and brushing a strand of white hair away from her face.

she doesn’t say anything at first and just buries her face into your neck where she begins to cry.

you attempt to calm her down, patting her back and getting her to look at you once more, “please dont cry… tell me what’s wrong and i’ll make it better.”

she speaks through uneven breaths, chubby cheeks now stained with tear streaks, “i called daddy but he didn’t answer.” speaking these words only caused her to cry again and it breaks your heart.

“don’t worry, he’ll come back. he’s okay and he’s safe. he’s just busy.” but the words are a form of consolation to you too. you’re trying your best to remain strong for your daughter, but it’s hard. being a mom is hard.

you walk over to the couch in the living and sit down, setting her on your lap while you wipe away her stray tears.

“listen to me for a second, okay?”

she rests her head on your chest, her breathing still ragged, but she’s no longer crying.

“your dad works really really hard for us. he wants us to live a good life, so he can’t always be home and he can’t always pick up the phone, but he tries as much as he can. we just have to be patient and wait for him to come home again. but he loves you very much. if he doesn’t answer the phone, it’s because he’s busy, not because he forgot about you, okay? the last thing he wants is for you to think he’s forgotten about you.”

she nods her head in understanding before asking one last question, one you don’t know the answer to.

“but when will he come back?”

now, you’re the one who has tears prickling in the corners of your eyes as your throat begins to sting, “i don’t know.” you wish you knew. you wish you could tell her he’s coming back today or the day after, but the uncertainty nips at your thoughts constantly.

what you don’t expect is for satoru to be standing right outside the door to your shared home, overhearing everything you just said. it tugs at his heart strings, but he’s here now.

he digs through his pocket and pulls out his key to unlock the door, the familiar jangle echoing through the house and your daughter immediately runs up to the door, squealing when he makes his way inside.

he scoops her up into his arms and litters her face in kisses, holding onto her tightly, “i’ve missed you so much, munchkin.”

you stay frozen in your spot on the couch, going wide eyed as another tear falls down your cheek and you don’t even notice it.

he gives you a smile from across the room while your daughter babbles on and on to him about what he’s missed. he listens intently, cherishing the moments that she’ll be little for as long as he can.

“and at school, we went on a field trip to the park and i found a butterfly but it flew away,” she pouts, “daddy, can you get me a butterfly?”

he chuckles and nods his head, “of course i can.” he would never say no to her. she could ask him for a piece of the moon and he’d do it.

you watch as he tickles her belly and she erupts into laughter, grabbing onto his shoulder for support.

“i have a surprise for you,” he whispers, giving her cheek another big kiss.

she claps her hands together, “what is it?” excitement laced in her voice which makes satorus smile grow wider.

he shifts through his briefcase before pulling out a small box of munchkins, “munchkins for my munchkin!”

she lets out a near scream and takes the box in her grubby hands, already popping one in her mouth.

“daddy, say ahhh,” she says with a mouth full of munchkins.

satoru does as she tells him to and opens his mouth enough for her to feed one to him, “thank you, munchkin!”

your heart swells watching them interact. he’s a good dad. you both talked about being parents together so many times and now that it’s happened, it still doesn’t feel entirely real, like you’re dreaming, but if this were a dream, you wouldn’t open your eyes.

you stand up and walk over to him, wrapping your arms around his torso, tighter than usual, inhaling his scent which you’ve spent all this time missing. you feel whole again and your nerves have eased up.

he leans down and presses a chaste kiss to your lips, “hi, sweetheart.”

“i missed you.”

he wipes your tears away with the pad of his thumb before wrapping an arm around you, the other holding your daughter, “i missed you more. both of you. gosh, i felt like i was gonna die if i had to be away for another day.” it may sound like an exaggeration, but to satoru it’s nothing less than the truth. it was agonizing to be apart from his wife and the mini version of him. he missed waking up next to you, missed helping your daughter with her homework and reading bedtimes stories before bed.

but you’re together again and that’s all that matters. you’ve never been more relieved to watch a familiar face walk through the door.

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the-boy-meets-evil · 1 year ago

Text

with the band | ksy

pairing: drummer!soonyoung x journalist!f!reader genre: 70s!au, band!au, fluff, smut, tiny bit of angstsummary: you’re fresh out of college with big dreams about changing the world with your words on a page. The last thing you expect is to end up covering a tour and you certainly don’t expect to fight falling for the drummer. rating: explicit, minors dni word count: ~8.2k (i literally don't know, don't @ me, it was supposed to be short) warnings: brief mention of drinking, brief mention of assumed infidelity (not actual), reader mentions difficulties of male dominated profession and being a woman, 1 mention of drinking, explicit smut: kissing, fingering, unprotected sex (don't do this), multiple orgasms, oral sex (f. receiving), briefest handjob/blowjob, reader is a little obsessed with hoshi's arms, hoshi picks reader up 1 time, idk i think that's it

a/n: this is for @svthub's 70s;teen collab and i'm so thankful that i got to take part in it. make sure you check out all the other amazing fics here! also a massive thank you to my bby indi @classicscreations for another last minute banner with minimal info from me. ily. (this is unbeta'd because i finished it late sorry!)

When you went to school, you had all these big dreams. It’s easier for women to get an education now, universities that had been single sex are going co-ed, and women are allowed to have ideas. You feel excited about your future. You’re going to change the world. At least, that’s what you think.

Before you know it, graduation is around the corner and it’s time to try to find a job with your journalism degree. While you’ve become a standout contributor at your school paper, this is entirely different. Your big dreams start to feel a little deflated. Sure, you can get a job at a big newspaper, like you’ve always wanted, you just have to be fine with being the assistant to someone else. Getting their coffee and lunch orders, handling their schedule, fetching dry cleaning. And it’s not that you mind paying your dues, you don’t. You know that you’re going to have to work your ass off just to get that chance. But you’re not sure you can take the chance of getting boxed into being someone’s assistant. Close enough to get a hint of the story while never actually writing it yourself.

As you’re about to take one of the positions you’re so opposed to, you happen to get to know someone from the infamous Rolling Stone magazine. It’s not really your style, the whole sex, drugs, and rock’n’roll scene. You don’t feel like you know more than the average person when it comes to music. Music is great, you like it, and you’ve covered the occasional show for your school paper. It’s just not where you feel comfortable. However, as your new contact points out, they’re more than music. They’re culture and politics and just the heartbeat of the country. So, okay, why not take a shot? The worst that happens is they say no and you still have the papers to fall back on.

You don’t need to fall back. They like your writing at Rolling Stone, like your perspective. They like your honesty most of all, that sticks out. Someone tells you that they can tell exactly what you think about something and it’s exactly what they’re looking for. Maybe later, you’ll look back and wonder if this was really the right fit. If you knew what you were getting into. All you can do when you get the offer is say yes. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime, you tell yourself, to actually get to say something right away. Who cares what you’re talking about? If there’s one thing you know how to do, it’s form an opinion.

Several months into the job, you actually like it a lot more than you expected you would. Yeah, there’s a lot of partying, a lot of drinking, a lot of other things you’re not going to mention. But, the world is changing and you want to be there for it.

As much as you initially expected to join Rolling Stone for the culture and political pieces, you’ve written just as many pieces about music. There’s a human element to it that draws you in, a commentary on the artists and what they’re trying to say. You don’t think twice when your boss assigns you to cover a show in the area. A big group is headlining, something you know will draw everyone out, but your boss wants you to pay attention to the other acts. Find out if there’s a story.

You’re somewhere in an open staff room before the show, taking time to catch up with people you know through work, through other shows, just from being around the area. It’s there that you hear the commotion outside the room. It sounds like a group of girls reacting to someone, probably one of the musicians. Seconds later, the musician in question opens the door, smiling softly over his shoulder and calling out a string of thank yous before heading around the corner.

It’s familiar with the shows you’ve covered. He’s hiding out from the fans that hang around and try to get closer to them. Some of them are familiar with the staff, both for the groups and the venues, though, and they come and go as they please. He seems to realize this and rushes over to your table, sits down in an empty seat and tries to look like he belongs.

“What’s the low down?” he asks without preamble.

You’re caught off guard for a lot of reasons. The first is that you have no idea who this man, with his short hair and denim shirt actually is. He looks like a musician, probably could be a member of one of the other, smaller groups playing tonight. He seems like he’s probably in his mid-20s. But you don’t know him. The second reason is that you’re not really sure what he’s asking.

“With what?” you finally ask.

“The group of girls hanging around outside,” he supplies. Of course.

“This your first show or something?” you ask.

“Not exactly,” he says. “I mostly did studio work until I replaced the guy before me in Moonwalker. They needed a new drummer.”

“I’m sure you had plenty of girls hanging around the studio,” you say.

“Including you?” he wonders. “I’m Soonyoung, by the way.”

You give him your name in return. “And no, I write for Rolling Stone.”

That catches his interest in the way it always does with musicians. They all want to be in the magazine, want to know they’ve made it. Just as many want to make sure whatever’s published about them is positive, paints them in a good light. It’s why your boss has always stressed to remember the musicians aren’t your friends. That’s never been an issue for you, so you’ll continue to chat with Soonyoung. Try to see if his band might be the one you pitch to your boss.

He wants to keep talking, you can tell, but a man that looks like a manager pops his head into the room. Once his eyes land on Soonyoung, he’s calling him away. The rest of the band is going over something pre-show and they need him. Soonyoung looks back at you.

“Catch ya later?” Soonyoung asks it as a question instead of making it a statement.

“Maybe,” you answer, noncommittal.

The next day at work you fill your boss in about the show and pitch Moonwalker for a feature. They’re young and hungry, saying a lot with their music, and there were almost as many fans there to see them as there were to see the headliner. Culturally and musically, they’re relevant. If you can get the jump on this story, you might even be able to beat out the competition. Which is always a gamble. You don’t have some magic 8 ball telling you if these guys are the real deal.

After your boss loops in a couple of the big music guys at the magazine, he agrees that you can try to get the story. If the band will let you go to the next several stops, and actually answer your questions, your boss will sign off on it. Well, you have to stay on top of your other assignments too, but you assure him that won’t be an issue.

Three days later you’re headed to your first stop on the tour. Their manager had initially been skeptical, but called back a few hours after the pitch. Apparently Soonyoung had asked if it would be you doing the story, said you seemed cool, and the rest of the band was eager for the exposure. So you packed your bags and got on the next bus out to meet them on their tour. From there, you would be traveling with the band. That had also come with the warning from your boss and colleagues, a reminder that the guys in the band weren’t your friends and the women who traveled with them were even less so. Not that it was news to you.

(And not that you’re thinking about the phone call you got after work that night.

“Hello?” You’re balancing the phone against your ear as you sort through some recent mail.

“Hey! This is Soonyoung!” comes a cheery voice on the other end.

“Oh, uh, hi,” you say. “How did you get my number?”

“My manager called the magazine for a couple last minute questions and they gave him this number,” Soonyoung answers.

You’re wondering why your boss, always worrying about keeping those lines firmly in place, gave out your personal number. But that’s an issue for another day.

“So you’re hitting the road,” Soonyoung carries on. “You must’ve been into our sound.”

“You’re different and the crowd seemed to dig it,” you say.

“Can’t wait to catch you on the trail,” Soonyoung finishes.)

The band is funny to be around, you think. It’s a little like herding children at times, even though they’re a few years older than you. But their attention is constantly somewhere and rarely on the question you’re asking. Which should be frustrating, except that Soonyoung is always looking over at you with an apology in his eyes. Always filling in every answer that he can with this band he’s gotten used to at light speed.

You do get your answers, though. Answers about everything from how the band got together to where they see themselves going to what they think about where the country is headed. In between the booze and the women and the drugs, you’re able to piece together who this group actually is and what they’re about. The more you learn, the more you want to learn. The more you relate to the things they��re saying. For the first time in your career, you’re actually wondering if you can capture the energy of this band when you put it to paper. Can you capture the way they vibe together? Can you capture the way the singer mesmerizes an entire crowd? Can you capture the way Soonyoung goes from smiling and happy to laser focused on stage? There’s magic in seeing them perform live.

There’s also the small matter of getting too close to them. Or to one of them in particular. From the beginning you knew that Soonyoung would be a problem. He’s too loud and he’s not all that smooth, but there’s a real tenderness to him. There’s a softness to his approach that you weren’t quite expecting. The first time he invites you to hang out with the band after a show, you ignore it. It’s easy. You’re thinking of the advice from your boss and your coworkers. The second and third times are easy too. Well, easy enough. You say no and go back to your room to work on notes for the story.

Except, that’s when it changes. You get on the phone with your boss, tell me how much bigger the story is becoming than you ever anticipated. There’s so much more than just the band, from the backgrounds of the members, to the lyrics of their songs, to where they see themselves heading. Three members, including Soonyoung, are the children of immigrants in this country. Where you expect push back from your boss, instead you’re met with agreement. Stay on the road, you’ve been on top of your assignments. He’ll give you more words for the piece you’re writing. Just carry on, he loves all the notes and ideas he’s seen so far.

It’s exactly what you’re hoping for and yet there’s still a feeling in the pit of your stomach like things are about to change. Not because this is a big article, though it is. You’ve never been given more than a thousand words and you have three thousand now. It’s more than just a chance. Yet you’re still unsettled about something.

It’s another day. Another set of pre-show questions, a depth to each band members’ background, an insight in the process of writing songs, even a little bit of a look into why each of them got into music in the first place. The leader of the band and the manager are more reserved, concerned with how the group will come across when you write this article. They’re always asking what you’ll say or if they can see the article before it comes out.

Your answer is always the same: no. But, you assure them that you’re not in this to ruin their careers. What would be the point? Who would want to answer your questions moving forward? You just want to paint an honest picture of what they’re like and what they’re about.

Post show is the same song and dance as always. Soonyoung asks for you to come by their routine after-party. You see the way some of the other hangers-on watch for your answer, seem annoyed that he’s asking yet again when you’ve said no every other time. You say no, like every other time, and watch the smiles that form instantly on the faces of those who drag Soonyoung off. His eyes stay on you even after you turn around to head to your room.

That’s where the similarities stop. You’re reading over your notes at the desk in your dingy hotel room. It’s far too late and the lighting is awful, but you want to make sure you get it all down before you forget. You also want to test out a few sentences or even passages to send back to your boss. The article really has taken shape in your head and you’re excited to actually write it.

A knock at the door pulls you from your thoughts about word choice. You figure it’s probably just some drunk person looking for the band and getting the room wrong. Or looking for friends after the show. It’s not like that would be the first time. So you don’t consider that you’re not really dressed for company.

“Hey,” from a voice that’s entirely too familiar.

There’s a moment when you’re both just looking at each other. You’re trying to figure out what he’s doing here and why he doesn’t seem drunk. He’s taking in your open bathroom over your nightgown. After another moment, you pull the bathrobe closed, definitely too late by the smirk playing on Soonyoung’s mouth.

“Uh, what are you doing here?” you ask after clearing your throat.

“I wanted to see what was so important that kept you from hanging with us,” Soonyoung answers. “‘M I interrupting something?”

“Yes, actually,” you say before you can think better.

“Really?” he challenges.

“I was writing,” you rush out. “I don’t have my typewriter here but I’ve been putting passages together.”

“And that couldn’t wait til morning to hang out with us? See what we’re like outside of the venue?” Soonyoung presses.

“I’ve seen you outside the venues,” you argue. “And it’s not that it’s keeping me from hanging out with you.”

“Then what is?” he asks.

“We’re not friends, Soonyoung, and you’ve got plenty of people to keep you distracted,” you offer with an eye roll.

“They’re not that distracting…or entertaining,” he says and you actually laugh.

“They’ll be heartbroken,” you muse.

“Let me come in for a drink,” Soonyoung presses. “It’s rude to leave company in the hall.”

“I don’t have anything to drink,” you say, almost regretful.

“I do,” Soonyoung says, holding up a six pack.

This is dumb, a terrible idea. It’s exactly what your boss warned you about. But you step to the side anyway and let Soonyoung walk around you. With a look down the hallway to confirm nobody saw him, you close the door.

“What are you doing here, really?” you ask.

Soonyoung settles on the edge of the bed and opens one of the beers. He holds one out to you and you take it. He’s already inside the room, might as well appreciate something free to drink.

“I don’t know, I like being around you. There’s more to you than most of the people that hang around the band,” Soonyoung says.

“That’s because I’m not just hanging around the band. I’m here working,” you reason.

“And that means you can’t have fun?” Soonyoung wonders.

“I am having fun,” you disagree.

“You know what I mean,” he says, not letting you get away with it. You hesitate, unsure where to go from here. “You don’t have to tell me, but I’m interested in you. I want to actually know you in the way you’re getting to know us. I’m laying myself bare and you don’t have to do the same, I just want to know you.”

Which is fair, isn’t it? Of all the band members, Soonyoung has been the most open, the most honest about who he is, what he’s about, and where he wants to go. So you make the decision you probably always were going to make. You sit down on the bed next to him, instead of leaving space by sitting in the chair, and you start to tell him who you are. Nothing feels off limits from your struggles in a male-dominated field to your family life to your past relationships. To his credit, he’s a good listener. His face is so expressive and open that you find yourself saying more than you have to anyone in ages.

As you continue to talk, your beers sit largely untouched. Soonyoung’s taken a few sips, but mostly his eyes have been focused on you, like he’s looking for the things your face is saying that your words aren’t. Somewhere it progresses from you talking about who you are to the two of you talking about anything that comes up. It’s not a level of comfort you were ever expecting to feel in a place like this. It’s also really difficult to remember what your boss said.

“So we’re not friends, huh?” Soonyoung asks during a lull.

“Oh, well…” you stutter.

He laughs. “Luckily I’m not so easily scared off.”

“It’s just, my boss…well he warned me not to get too close to you,” you admit.

“Me specifically?” Soonyoung asks.

“No, the band as a whole,” you answer without meeting his eyes.

You start when Soonyoung’s finger lifts your chin up to meet his eyes. It’s hard to meet them when you feel like he sees through you. “I think you seem smart enough to make that call for yourself, don’t you?”

All you can do is nod. That seems to make him happy. You feel more exposed though, more raw. Even more so when you remember that you’re only in your nightgown and bathrobe. Without even realizing it, you pull the bathrobe closed again.

“Do you want me to go?” Soonyoung’s voice is quiet, not a whisper but deep with something else. The entire mood shifts.

You shake your head immediately. This time it’s not enough.

“I need to hear you,” he says.

“No, Soonyoung, I don’t want you to go,” you say quietly.

His fingers are on your chin again, soft enough that you could pull away if you wanted to. Which you don’t. His voice is still low, thick with something you now realize is desire. It’s the same feeling you got when you extended your trip following Moonwalker on the road. And it’s definitely trouble.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, voice gentle like he has to be careful with you.

You nod again before considering if he needs to hear you. He doesn’t. Not this time. His lips meet yours gently, so soft like he’s not really sure it’s happening. Like he’s worried this is all a dream. You’re kind of worried about that too, but you’re not sure if it would be better that way. If this should all just be something you’re dreaming up instead of something that’s actually happening.

It’s not enough, you open your mouth and he takes it as an invitation almost immediately. The kiss deepens, becomes a little more insistent and a little more desperate. He’s testing the waters at the same time. One hand rests on your bare thigh and the other slides up your neck into your hair, anchoring you to his mouth. You gasp a bit at the firmness. It’s a different side to him than you’ve seen. Well, except when he’s on stage. He’s just as focused then as he is now.

But it’s not quite enough and you’re not really sure what makes you adjust. You’ve never really been someone to be forward, not like this. So you’re not really sure why you readjust to straddle his lap. Not that he’s complaining. His groan is low, from the back of his throat, as you settle on top of him. For a moment, you’re aware that you’re still just in your nightgown.

Until Soonyoung’s hands run along the bare skin of your thighs and you shiver under his touch. Until his fingers dig into your skin, just hard enough to anchor you but not so hard it’ll leave marks. Until your own fingers find their purchase in Soonyoung’s hair, shorter than you’re used to on men, yet perfect for him. You’re not used to straddling someone like this either, so you try not to move too much. Except when you need to adjust because your knees aren’t comfortable as they’re digging into the mattress. That single movement drags your core across his lap and pulls a deep groan from him. You can feel him hardening when he jerks his hips up into you.

Soonyoung moves one hand up your back, underneath the nightgown so his fingers are on your skin. His other hand holds the back of your head so you can’t stop kissing him. Then he’s leaning back onto the bed, bringing you with him so that now you’re on top of him. You feel a little out of your element like this, not entirely used to being the one in control. Even if the control is an illusion and it really rests with Soonyoung. It’s like he can sense that and wraps his strong arms around you to flip the two of you over. He breaks the kiss only for a moment as he’s hovering over to look down at you. You’re sure you blush under his attention, there’s so much affection. Then you’re kissing again.

You know where this is heading, know and don’t want to stop it. His hips rut against your core more as the kisses continue to intensify and you want more. Need more than the friction with too much clothing between you. You’re about to pull his shirt off, have your fingers on the hem, when there’s a loud banging on the door. It startles you both from your little bubble. After a second, the banging starts again.

You reluctantly slide out from underneath Soonyoung to go look out the peephole. Something you did not do when he showed up. It’s one of his bandmates. You crack the door open and try to act like you’d been sleeping.

“Hey sorry, we’re looking for Soon, have you seen him?” he asks.

You pretend to yawn and shake your head. “Sorry, been sleeping.”

“Huh, well sorry,” he says and is gone before you can say anything else.

Soonyoung is behind you before the door even closes, wrapping his arms around you and holding you back against his chest. He presses a soft kiss behind your ear, gentle like his first kiss.

“I should probably go before they come back,” he whispers against your skin.

“About what I said,” you begin, turning around in his arms to face him.

“S’okay, I get it,” he assures you. He places the gentlest kiss on your lips. “I know what you’re dealing with.”

“Thank you,” you say quietly.

“And maybe we’ll get to continue this,” Soonyoung offers. He sounds like he’s trying to be nonchalant, but his face gives away how badly he wants you to agree.

“God, yes, please,” you respond. You don’t care how you sound when his face lights up. That’s all you need.

The next day has you packing up and heading to the next city. Road days are actually some of your favorite because it’s just you with the people on the bus. It’s a much smaller group than at the venues or at the hotel afterwards. It also gives you a better glimpse into who Moonwalker are outside of the performances. You see how they interact, how they approach conversations, what they do to fill their time.

Of course, now, Soonyoung wants to be around you whenever he can. A fact entirely too obvious to some of the people on the bus. He accepts that you want to keep some amount of distance, doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. The two of you just kind of gravitate together anyway. Whether it’s sitting near each other on the bus or stopping at the same places for food when you stop. Most people seem to write it off as how he’s been with you the entire time. Most don’t realize that you’re seeking him out almost as much now.

You get enough time without prying ears to let him know that you don’t want to distract him the night before a show. You also know how their manager can be, so you think it’s best for him to be in the bed that he’s supposed to be in. He pouts for a second but understands. You’re trying to keep at least the appearance of separation.

The day of the next show finds you in the lobby waiting for some coffee and something to eat when a woman breezes in through the open doors. You hate to generalize, but she looks like a lot of the other women that hang around bands, except a little more confident. A little more sure of herself or her position. Maybe she’s someone’s girlfriend. You’re sure that whatever Moonwalker gets up to on the road, at least some of them are in relationships. Not Soonyoung, you’re sure he would’ve mentioned it.

For some reason, the woman approaches you after speaking to someone at the desk. She’s glamorous up close, for lack of a better way to put it, but maybe not as confident as you’d initially thought.

“Is this where Moonwalker is staying?” she asks without preamble.

“Uh, yeah,” you answer.

“Oh good, I’ve been looking for Soonyoung and I keep missing his stops,” she says with a smile.

Your stomach drops and you do everything you can not to let your face show how bothered you are. She’s looking for who?

“Soonyoung?” you ask. Thankfully, she doesn’t seem to pick up on your distress.

“It’s an unusual name, I know, but he’s the drummer for Moonwalker,” she carries on.

“Uh, I haven’t seen him today,” you offer.

“I wasn’t expecting you had, you’re clearly not a groupie,” she says with a slightly sympathetic smile. You’re not really sure what to do with that. “But he’s staying here?”

“Yeah, they’re staying here,” you confirm. “Who are you?”

“Oh well I’m his…well it’s complicated, but we’re seeing each other,” she says.

“Right,” is all you can muster.

“Who are you?” she asks.

You give your name. “I write for Rolling Stone.”

“You’re a journalist?” She asks the question with all the surprise and disdain of someone that thinks only men can write.

“I am,” you confirm and stand up. “It’s been great speaking, I’m sure Soonyoung will be around soon. They haven’t left for the venue yet.”

You’re off before she can say anything else without coffee or the snack you’d been looking for. Before the tour, you never drank coffee in the afternoons because of the caffeine. Now, you’re staying up much later.

Once you’re back in your room, you let yourself cry. For so many reasons. For breaking the rule and getting so close to Soonyoung. For allowing yourself to feel something for him. For being stupid enough to think he felt something for you too. For how hard it’s going to be to carry on with this story now that you know who he really is. For having to separate personal from professional. For all the things that could have been.

You keep your distance from Soonyoung through the rest of the day and the show. He’s visibly confused when you make excuse after excuse to walk away or talk to someone else. But why should he be? Surely the woman ended up finding him after speaking to you and surely she’s waiting somewhere for him. Why should he keep bothering with you?

It’s not until you’re back in your room post-show that you start to plan your next steps. You’re scheduled to join the band for at least 3 more shows. It’s what you and your boss agreed to. And it was fine, before everything happened with Soonyoung. Could you find a way to convince your boss that you do actually have enough for the article and it’s time to come home? Maybe. You’ll have to start thinking of good reasons.

It’s during this inner monologue that you hear a quiet knock at the door. You know who it’s going to be before you even open the door. Soonyoung stands on the other side looking much more subdued than normal. He looks sad, maybe even hurt.

“Can I come in?” he asks.

His voice sounds just as sad as he looks, which causes anger to flare in you for a moment. What reason does he have to be hurt? But you step aside anyway because this isn’t a conversation to have in the doorway where anyone could overhear.

“What is it?” you ask once you’re both inside. He sits on the edge of your bed and you take the chair at the desk.

“What’s wrong?” he asks in response.

“What do you mean what’s wrong?” you ask louder than you intended.

“Everything was good and we were on the same page, what changed?” Soonyoung asks.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe you having a girlfriend? I met her in the lobby this afternoon, she was looking for you,” you fire back.

Soonyoung goes quiet. Not like he’s been caught, like he’s confused. Like he doesn’t know what you mean. Then his face changes into one of annoyance. “Do you mean Mary?”

“I’m not sure, Soonyoung, how many girlfriends do you have?” you ask, irritated.

“None,” he insists and then describes the woman from earlier.

“Sounds right, she didn’t mention her name,” you agree.

Soonyoung huffs out an overly annoyed sigh. “That’s not my girlfriend and again, I do not have a girlfriend…”

“Girlfriend, friend, groupie, whatever,” you dismiss. “I’m not interested in the drama.”

“Neither am I,” Soonyoung insists. You want to believe him. His face is so kind, so honest. But this is why you don’t get involved with the band.

“I want to believe you,” you start.

“Then believe me,” Soonyoung pleads. “Mary used to hang around at the studio I worked at before coming on this tour. I was nice to her, we chatted a couple times, but I never even got her number. I never even went out with her or kissed her or anything. I have no idea why she showed up here.”

“You promise?” you ask.

Soonyoung is off the bed and coming to kneel before you in a single move. He takes your hands in his, so still and serious. Like nothing else matters.

“I promise you, there is nothing going on there. The only person I’m interested in getting to know is you,” he says.

“Soonyoung,” you caution.

“I know, your career, the article, all of it, I get it,” Soonyoung assures you. “I’m willing to take whatever you can give me.”

It’s dumb. You know it’s dumb. And you don’t care because this man in front of you is doing more than you ever expected. So you lean forward to kiss him and feel him smile against your lips. The next second, he hoists you up (you’re thankful for that drummer arm strength) and carries you to the bed. He’s so gentle when he puts you down, so careful to make sure you don’t hit your head on the headboard.

And then his lips are on yours again, kissing you so fiercely that you lose your breath. His hands wander your body like he’s trying to map every piece of you. Every curve, every spot, every place that makes you shudder. His lips on you are a constant, keeping you grounded in this moment, allowing it to feel like more than a dream. His hands wander up the skirt you wore to the show earlier. You had put off changing for bed beyond removing your stockings and shoes. Now you’re almost thankful for that decision with how your skin erupts into goosebumps under Soonyoung’s touch.

This time when you reach to remove his shirt, there’s no loud knock to disrupt you. There’s nothing at all to distract you from the beautiful man hovering over you on the bed. It seems ridiculous, now, that you ever thought you could ignore him. Once you get his clothes off, he removes your own, so you’re laying bare on your bed. Everything inside you wants you to cover yourself, unused to anyone taking you in with the attention Soonyoung gives you. But when you go to move your hands to cover yourself, he catches them, places the softest kisses on your knuckles, and lightly puts them over your head. His eyes take your body in like he’s never seen anything better.

“Absolutely beautiful,” he whispers against your skin. “You’re perfect.”

“Look who’s talking,” you manage to reply.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asks, pulls away so he can look you in your eyes. “It’s okay if you say no.”

“Little late for that,” you chuckle.

“No, it’s not,” he reiterates.

“I know, Soon,” you say through a smile. “I do want this.”

It’s all the reassurance that he needs when his lips meet yours again, insistent. One of his hands runs down your body and along your thigh before he separates your legs. It makes you shiver in anticipation. Every part of you longs for him. You know he must realize. He runs one of his fingers between your folds and moans into the kiss with how wet you are. How badly you want him. How ready you are for him. After he does this several more times, you pull away.

“Please,” you beg him.

You’re expecting him to tease you or to ask you what it is you’re begging for. Instead, he slides one finger inside you and captures your gasp. The kiss doesn’t last nearly long enough before he’s pulling away again, this time to watch your body react to his finger pumping slowly in and out of you. He’s encouraging your moans, muttering praises into your skin, making you feel like nothing else matters. He slides a second finger into you and your back arches at the feeling. He hooks his middle finger inside you and you know you’re going to be done for entirely too soon.

As his pace quickens, he trails kisses along your neck, your chest, your stomach. You can’t even be self conscious because he doesn’t give you the chance. Just makes you feel better than you’ve ever felt with just his fingers. Your hands tangle in the sheets as you writhe under his attention.

“Soonyoung, please, I’m gonna come,” you whine out. He doesn’t slow, just adds a third finger.

“Then come, baby, I want to watch you come all over my fingers,” he urges.

And that’s, well that’s got you even closer. Never have you had a guy put your own needs above his own like that. He keeps his rhythm steady and it’s all too much, you’re feeling him everywhere and your body is on fire.

“Let go,” he whispers low into your ear.

So you do, you let go and drench his fingers, the release so strong that it takes you a minute to come back down or to realize you feel empty without his fingers. He’s laying on his side next to you and running a hand through your hair to brush it out of your face.

“Oh my god, Soonyoung,” you rasp out.

“Yeah?” he asks and you nod.

He adjusts his position and you feel his hard length against your hip. You reach a hand down to lightly grip his cock. It’s longer than you were expecting but not too thick. Not entirely intimidating to think about inside of you.

“You don’t have to…” he starts.

“I want to,” you disagree.

You run your finger over the head, collecting a little of the precum and then run your hand back down. It’s not enough though, so you push yourself up. He follows you with his eyes and readjusts so he’s leaning back against the headboard. You get between his legs and lick a stripe up the underside of his length, watch as he shudders over the briefest touch. You can tell he’s trying to sit back and enjoy it, but he’s sensitive. He must have enjoyed you coming on his fingers more than you realized.

He lets you tease him, running your tongue along him entirely too slowly, your hand pumping without enough friction. But his desires win out before long.

“I need to be inside of you,” Soonyoung whines. “Please?”

You swallow hard and nod. “Yes, oh my god.”

Before you even realize what’s happening, he gathers you up in his arms and lays you down underneath him. He spreads your leg and kisses all the way up from your thigh to your lips, leaving you desperate for more of him when he pulls away. It’s only so he can line himself up at your entrance, though. He eases into you slow enough that you can adjust to the feel of him. And then he’s rolling his hips into you.

You’re not sure if it’s the build up between the two of you, the realization of your feelings when you met the woman claiming to be his girlfriend, or what, but everything just feels…better. The stretch is that perfect kind of pleasure and the way he rolls his hips into you is just the right pace. He whispers constant reassurances into your skin and you don’t think you’ve ever felt this safe or whole with someone before.

He takes his time with you, doesn’t thrust into you too hard or too fast, just wants to savor the moment. You can’t recall your last relationship taking this much care. It’s overwhelming in the best way, in the way that you don’t want it to end.

“I’m so close,” he hisses out too soon.

“I’m almost there,” you whine out, heading towards your second orgasm of the night.

Soonyoung reaches between you and starts to rub your clit, making you cry out from the sensitivity. In no time, you’re screaming out as you come seconds apart from each other.

“Wow,” Soonyoung says when he’s caught his breath and laying next to you on the bed.

“Yeah,” you agree.

He rolls over onto his side and faces you, looking both incredibly relaxed and impossibly happy. “Are we okay?”

“Oh my god, this is when you ask?” you laugh out.

“Well, I don’t wanna make the wrong assumption!” he defends.

“Yes, we’re good,” you start, “and before you say it, I will talk to you before making assumptions next time.”

“There’s going to be a next time? Do you like me?” Soonyoung asks, all gentle teasing in his voice.

“I am going to kick you out of this room,” you threaten.

You don’t follow through. Not when he wets a towel to come help you clean up or when he offers to get you clothes to wear to bed. Not when he fills up a glass with water for you to drink so you’re not dehydrated. Not when he offers to leave so that people don’t get the wrong idea. Not when you’re pulling him into a kiss and back into bed. Not when you’re talking until you fall asleep tangled up in each other.

The next couple days pass in kind of a blur with traveling and getting settled into the next tour stop. Needless to say, you don’t reach out to your boss about ending your trip early. You do have a conversation with Soonyoung, though, about how it is almost your last stop. He gets it, but he’s not ready to think about it, instead wrapping himself around you and pressing kisses to any part of your body that he can reach. He’s incredibly distracting and you find you don’t really mind. You also don’t mind if he lets his bandmates think there’s something going on with you. None of them seem surprised, which makes you wonder what he said before he won you over.

After the next show, he doesn’t even pretend to go to the afterparty before coming to see you. He departs from his band and the hangers-on at the entrance to the hotel and comes straight to your room. Just as the two of you planned. And not that you’re expecting anything, but you’re waiting in your nightgown just in case, unable to stop thinking about Soonyoung moaning over being interrupted the first time.

“Hey…wow,” Soonyoung says when you open the door and he takes you in.

“You were whining about being interrupted the first time,” you offer with a shrug.

“I was not whining,” he protests, but kisses you anyway when he steps inside.

“You were and it was cute,” you disagree. Calling Soonyoung cute is a mistake, you realize that the second you see his face.

“You think I’m cute,” he preens.

“I take it back,” you say immediately.

“Nope,” he says and pulls you into him. “Can’t take it back.”

He kisses you hard and deep before you can continue the argument. Not that you’re complaining about it. He moves backwards to sit down on the bed and pulls you onto his lap. Same position, different bed. You’ll still take it.

“Soon, can I ask you something?” you ask.

“Anything,” he offers.

“Tonight, can you…don’t be gentle with me,” you manage.

“You didn’t like that?” Of course that’s his first worry.

“No, no, it was amazing, completely perfect,” you assure him and he relaxes beneath you. “It’s just…I want…”

“Something else,” he finishes.

You nod and look down, absently playing with the hem of his shirt. “I just, I feel safe with you and I want to try things.”

Soonyoung lifts your chin with a finger so you can see how much care there is behind his eyes. He presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth and then to your lips.

“I won’t be so gentle with you, then,” he agrees. “But you have to tell me if it’s too much okay?”

“Okay,” you agree.

And he’s not gentle. He takes his time building up to it, kissing you hard and pulling your lip between his teeth. Pulling off your clothes so you’re naked on his lap. Leaving marks where nobody else will see them. Grinding against your core even though he’s still dressed. Pulling endless moans out of you. Until he flips you onto your bag and pushes your legs open. He’s got his fingers inside you again and it’s nothing like the first time. Nothing like the gentle rhythm. He’s scissoring his fingers and pumping them quickly. He’s using this thumb to rub your clit. The stream of words coming out of your mouth is incomprehensible and you’re sure the people in the rooms on either side can hear you. You’re equally sure you don’t care.

It feels like record time when he’s coaxing your first orgasm out of you. Your whole body is sensitive and the waves continue to ripple through you. It doesn’t even feel like you’ve recovered from the first orgasm when you feel Soonyoung’s tongue run between your folds. He’s spreading your lips with his fingers and lapping into you.

“Soonyoung, fuck, oh my god,” you scream out.

He pops his head up from between your legs just long enough for a single question. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No, fuck, please don’t,” you whine out and he’s between your legs again.

You can’t even see straight but you’re sure that the sight of this man between your legs, tongue working you like he’s starving, is the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. His thumb rubs over your clit again and you arch into him. You move your hand into his hair to anchor him or yourself, you’re not sure. You’re oversensitive and overstimulated, but it’s the best kind of mix of pain and pleasure. There are tears forming in the corners of your eyes and you urge him on, beg him to keep going.

The second orgasm rips through you even harder than the first and you’re screaming out your praise for him as he guides you through it. Once you come down, you feel him come up next to you and roll towards him. His lips are on yours in the next second and you can taste yourself on his tongue. You think you could kiss him for hours without getting bored or wanting to stop. Yet he pulls away from you entirely too soon.

There’s confusion on your face as he gets out of the bed (and maybe a little bit of embarrassment that you’ve come twice and he’s still dressed). His eyes are on you as he strips himself out of his clothing before leaning over the bed. If you’re waiting for another kiss, you’re left waiting. He grabs behind your legs and pulls you to the edge. His eyes are full of fire, yet still checking to see if you’re okay. You ease any worries with a quick nod of your head. With that he pulls you up against him and kisses you quickly.

You’re so dazed that you don’t even realize he’s changing your position until you’re leaning over the edge of the bed with your ass in the air. He uses his foot to spread your legs apart so that he can line himself up. Even though you want to watch him, he presses between your shoulder blades so you’re leaning forward as much as possible. And maybe he’s got a point because the feeling of him pressing into you is so much better when you’re not watching him do it.

This time, he doesn’t wait for you to adjust to him, just immediately snaps his hips into you, burying his cock fully inside on the first thrust. Even though he’s being rougher, his praise is still constant. Still talking you through every moment. When he lifts one of your legs up so your knee is on the edge of the bed, you think you see stars at the new position. He’s hitting you so deep and filling you so completely that you’re not sure how you ever survived without him. Dramatic, you chastise yourself, but you’re a little beyond sex stupid right now.

His fingers dig into your hips where he holds you in place, keeping up the pace that has your eyes watering yet again. You’re so sensitive and you’re sure you’re not going to come again. Until you feel the orgasm building and the pressure in your tummy. Until his own words become unintelligible, just a string of curses and praise. Until you hear yourself tell him that you’re gonna come again and feel his own release just after yours.

Your legs feel like jelly as he guides you back into the bed and disappears for a towel. You can hear the water running just before he reappears to clean you up. It’s such a stark contrast from minutes earlier when he’s gentle with you again. It’s way too early to feel anything for him, you remind yourself again, but you also can’t pretend not to feel anything.

Once he cleans himself up, he gets into the bed and tucks the two of you under the covers without bothering to get dressed. His arms circle you and you feel safe, like this. Wanted and special and right. The kiss he presses to your forehead almost makes you sigh.

“How are you?” he asks softly into your hair.

“Amazing? Perfect? I don’t even know,” you answer.

“But you’re okay,” he presses.

“No, I’m a lot better than okay,” you assure him. He must see your smile.

“Me too,” he agrees.

You’re not sure what happens next or how you’re going to be able to make this work. Or if it’s even going to work. You’re not sure any of that matters because you have this night and you have Soonyoung, at least for now. Nothing else matters.

thank you for reading, i hope you liked it 💕

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