#they're never out of place and always perfect | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

notseeingivy · 10 months ago

Text

me when this is everything I wanted and more

STILL (ALWAYS) HERE

a/n: part two to this but not really? enjoy!

wc: 2.4k

warnings: spider-man!gojo, a little ooc gojo, mentions of blood and bruises, cleaning up wounds, some angst -> comfort, play on that one scene from tasm 2

you’re thinking that you’ve hit another dead end when you groan into your sheets from the headache that wraps around your head. it’s mild and dull but there’s still that throb at the back of your consciousness that you can’t exactly take your mind off of. at least, that was what you were telling yourself — normal headaches caused by the stress of university, and definitely not because of a trivial fight with your boyfriend.

the daunting calculus question stares back at you like it was mocking you, teasing you for getting heated over such a small thing when you knew he was only looking out for you with the best intentions in mind.

with a longing look to your abandoned convo with spider-man!gojo, you sink again into your pillow, lights suddenly looking too bright and the music in your ears, jarring. you haven’t seen him in school today, thinking him to be dramatic as always. but he didn’t need lectures and seminars at this point, either, knowing him to be one of the smartest people you know.

in the midst of quelling your headache and thinking of how to apologise, you don’t notice the way your vigilante boyfriend weaves his web around the trees just outside your window, crafting a sweet message of i miss you along the branches and leaves.

a tangle of webs, stuck like honeycomb to some abandoned shed, a tangle of webbing like his hip to yours. tangles of countless webs like his lips along your forehead when you fall asleep too early during study sessions and finally, his heart beating in time with yours.

one fell swoop of a rock from above makes you head tilt in utter confusion; in no world could a rock fall against your window in an arc like that come from anyone of this world, this dimension, yet you know no other person with wall-sticking and web-shooting abilities and it’s then when the complicated entanglement of letters come into view.

your heart clenches up just a little at the sight, a clear indication that it’s satoru from the similarity of his handwriting that’s on his own pre-calc homework. before you can call out, he shifts diagonally outside your window, mask removed and chest heaving at the anticipation of your reaction — both to the tension of your fight before and possibly another thing.

the darkness of the night hardly provides clarity, though, so when you don’t walk away, gojo feels the pull of your eyes on him, drawing him in and trapping him within your own web like prey. crawling along the side of your house, he gives you one more small pleading look: roughed up hair looking a little dirty and his body just aching so much.

“baby . .” he mumbles, blue eyes softening at the sight of you after not seeing you for just one day. it does things to him, “may i?”

but you’re not truly prepared for until your ceiling light exposes the reality of gojo’s situation, what with his cut-filled face and rips all over his suit. it’s dirty, like he was dragged around and made a fool of fighting god knows who, and he’s — oh my god — is all you mouth out, he’s bleeding from a fairly large wound in his side which he has held pressure with his mask.

“’toru!” you panic and quieten down, “oh— oh my god, fuck, fuck fuck, what do i do? satoru— you’re b-bleeding—” and you regret every single word you yelled at him just the day before, now rewarded (or cursed, rather) with his pristine white suit stained a deep, traumatising red. you’re shaking, rightfully so, and gojo is more calm than you, using his free and clean hand to rub circles into your sides.

“breathe, you gotta breathe, princess.”

“n-no— you breathe! you’re l-losing blood!’’ your throat closes in, your head fills with thoughts of his coffin being lowered. you start to sob, “satoru—”

“hey, hey, hey,” it’s both gentle and strong enough to catch your attention, brushing the stray strands from your face and you already lean into the long-awaited touch. his thumb wipes away the tears that already start falling, “’m still here, ’m still here. i’ve tried my best to cover the wound with extra shirts of mine, just stuffed into my suit.”

sniffling, you speak through hiccups, “why the hell do you have extra shirts in your fighting-villains backpack? w-why do you even bring a fighting-villains backpack?”

through the absurdity of it all: fucking spider-man bleeding out on your wooden floor, your tears mixing in with blood, the branches outside starting to snap and fall from the added tension of the webs, satoru laughs softly, fully cupping your face now and trying his best not to grimace at the increasing ache in his side.

“and you always laugh at the weirdest fucking times!” you chastise, still speaking through periodic hiccups and sniffles that you keep stuttering, not even able to smack him like you like to do because you know he hurts, “now wait here, you loser.”

a soft thank you is heard, able to breathe a little harsher now that you’ve gone to find the first aid, anxiety obvious in the pattering footsteps heard. without wasting any time, you grab the kit and let him peel off the suit in the bathroom, not even that much focused on his toned body but the amount of bruises and cuts that litter it.

a new wave of panic settles in your bones, a whimper sounding out when your feather-like touches span over his body.

“satoru . .”

“i’m so—”

“no,” you mumble, getting to work fast by taking out the gauze, bandages, whatever you could use. thank the heavens you at least knew some first aid, wincing whenever he hisses at the stinging alcohol. “let’s not talk about our fight now.”

he swallows, knuckles white from how tight he was gripping the sink, “f-first time you’re not asking me to apologise, heh—”

from behind, he can see you lift your eyes from the careful care you execute on his side, meeting your eyes in the mirror that gloss over again with tears and his heart sinks again.

“p— please don’t make jokes when i’m literally stitching you up, satoru,” you whisper, forehead bumping into his bicep, soft but quick breaths fanning over the skin there, “i don’t wanna talk, not while i almost lost you.”

“but it’s hardly any—”

“gojo satoru!” the shout of his full name shocks both of you, not even sure whether you were feeling angry at the fact that he always downplays his injuries, or sad at the fact that he can’t see that he deserves to be taken care of, too. it was always a guessing game with satoru.

“it’s not just anything, g-god! can you have some regard for yourself?” you don’t care that your words echo off the bathroom walls, its acoustics probably making your wails even more heartbreaking for your boyfriend. “look at yourself and tell me that it’s hardly anything! tell me, say it to my face!”

your nose is red, tear stains already making their home on your pretty face while your fingers squeeze the gauze instinctively, and he tells himself it’s all because of him. it’s all because he didn’t want to be a couple in public in fear that his enemies would target you, because he was afraid they’d use you as leverage, as a decoy, as a trade deal. but that has only made the yearning for you more difficult — pinkies barely brushing against each other, an inside joke swallowed into his throat.

satoru is silent, not sure what he could say that wouldn’t hurt you any further and he turns to lean against the sink counter, bloodied hands staining the marble and suit. and if he looked hard enough, he’s sure he can see the ache of your palpitating heart, bleeding down your chest and pooling at the floor from all the pain he’s caused you.

you dance across the bathroom floor, tiles both cold and warm under your feet as you make your move without any sound, afraid, afraid, like he would get pulled away the moment you touch him.

but he didn’t go anywhere — just jerking a little at the sudden contact.

“satoru . .” hoarse, tired, it’s what he made your voice sound like just yesterday from shouting, and now, today, “i . .”

you cry quietly but never stop your ever loving hands, holding his face to look up from the shame, and you see how dull his cerulean ones look now, softened but dim, gentle but lacking vivacity. you think maybe it’s the tears hindering it. bit by bit, gojo’s tears fall and he apologises.

satoru apologises over and over, i’m sorry’s muttered into your hair, into your forehead, into your lips and both your hands are shaking like on a first date.

“i just can’t bear to lose you,” you mumble shakily, trembling fingers tracing the lines of his features, “and i hope you know how much you mean to me, and— and how much it hurts to see you so nonchalant about being beaten up like this . .”

you stifle a sob when he kisses your fingers as they travel over his lips, having crossed oceans over his eyes and mountains through his nose. his lips, his lips look just like the sanctuary of everything soft and good and righteous, that sliver of perfect time like on juliet’s balcony.

“i’m sorry, i am so sorry, darling. i—” gojo sighs, pain now turning numb but still trying his best not to move an inch, “i guess i just become so used to taking care of aunt may that, i . . am not used to being taken care of.”

you nod in understanding, “i’m sorry too, for lashing out, for dismissing your efforts to make me feel safe. you were only looking out for me.”

gojo’s eyes avert from yours again, looking down at the one thing that signified his place in society — never that much seen, not much recognised, but still revered as the city’s hero. it represents anything from something as simple as getting back an old lady’s handbag to fighting off a scientist-turned-reptilian. but it also represents the why.

why he fights so hard. a star student like gojo definitely wouldn’t pass off the praises when he saves a falling civilian, but it was much deeper than that when it came to it, wanting the city he grew up in to be safe and to seeing the grateful, relieved expressions of passers-by.

it was for you, when the last face he sees before he closes his eyes for the night is your pretty one and he’d be damned if that changed any time soon.

that night where satoru is all patched up and lying like a statue because he’s afraid he’d tear your nicely done stitches (you assured him it was mediocre at best), his hand finds your hand naturally again, playing with the strands aimlessly.

all thoughts of the news articles showing his cheeky spider mask expression, to the funky poses he pulls (from a camera so high up it would really only be one person who plants it there), phases out the cool, suave spider-man persona and centres the stupid, goofy, annoying gojo satoru.

and you smile softly to yourself knowing you’d be the only one to see gojo satoru like this.

“i should’ve told you why; it wasn’t fair of me to just stop acting like we’re head over heels— hey, why are you smiling?”

“no reason.” and your smile brightens.

“that’s not no reason,” he matches your grin, pulling on your cheek playfully before his hand goes to your nape like clockwork and tugs gently. like you were just a normal couple after a long day, without any indication of a gash along his side, but gojo satoru was far from normal in the grand scheme of things, “there’s always a reason.”

“is that the motto that the great spider-man lives by?” you inch closer to him, smiling from above in the dimness of the room so much so that it makes you look like royalty and him a mere commoner.

“uh . . no, pretty sure it’s ‘with great power comes great responsibility’,” gojo jests with sarcasm laced in his voice, roping you in and you, letting yourself get caught always as you lower yourself on his chest, but not before your lips meet his in a soft, quiet dance with you both being the only ones in the ballroom.

the rush of love that fills you overflows in the way your mouth moves against his, not wanting this sweet, sweet dream to end. especially if you come out empty-handed at the end of it all with spider-man’s, gojo’s blood on your hands, so you keep your eyes shut tight with a promise to yourself to welcome him with welcome arms the second, third, fourth, nth that he climbs through your window, bloodied and tired.

“i’m still here,” satoru whispers against your lips when he feels just how tense you are, easing out the lines of your face and holds you in that moment, held frozen in time like a scene in a snow globe, “i will be here for as long as we are alive,” he takes your hand and puts it up to his heart to remind you of its status, of how it speeds up a tad bit when you stroke his chest, “and i am alive whenever you are near.”

the quiet moment is shared with another soft kiss, features now relaxed when you smile against his lips and inspire the next few moments of endless laughter and jokes, falling into the same breath when sleep catches up.

in the bathroom lies his white-turned-red suit, left abandoned for the normalcy you both chase in your bedroom for at least a few hours until spider-man has to go back to being spider-man and you have calc questions to finish up on. but until then, with the alarm you set at 6am in secrecy before his classes, you’d wake up just to soak and hand wash the red out, returning the blue and white suit back to its glory.

when satoru wakes up the next morning, he finally knows why your warmth in bed was missing for a brief moment of time when he sees the clean folded up suit with his mask on top. you don’t miss with a sandwich either, and a cheeky note — all the best for your most dreaded class!!! if u can fight and come out alive i believe u can survive prof. masamichi lol.

and he laughs softly, sparing a glance to your sound, peaceful self and he finds a renewed sense of the reason why he decided to become spider-man.

spider-man— satoru seals his love with a kiss to your forehead and a messy mumble of i love you, long overdue from the night before.

“thank you for loving me.”

#hurt comfort is my religion #SPIDERMAN GOJO IS MY RELIGION #t my beloved you ate this so hard #the dialouge was so good #sometimes I find it so hard to read and suspend myself in a conversation that's written but that NEVER happens when I read your work #it's so seamless and grounded in the narrative + picture you paint #the details are always so pointed too like #they're never out of place and always perfect #YOU are my baby and I love you #satoru x you

904 notes · View notes

roobylavender · 1 year ago

Text

i feel like the problem with so many pakistani dramas is they're like. a totalitarian exercise in relenting to the parent and forgiving them for all of their mistakes regardless of the severity of them. and i imagine it is funny to see me say that considering how often i wax rhetoric about how many of our parents are the products of violent cycles and there are times where we can't wholeheartedly blame them for being anyone other than who they were trained to be. but i also think there's a difference between forgiving your parents for not being able to escape their upbringing, and simply accepting that you will always have a subservient role to them, even in that process of forgiveness. like i don't think children have to go peacefully when they're being violently abused or cast out from their families or derided for entertaining dishonor. and this mindset we have wherein children have to be the perfect victims—broken, demure, never expressing any sort of outcry at the way they're treated—otherwise they're ungrateful and prone to derision by an audience for how much pain they've caused their parents, as if they haven't been caused extensive pain as well, really bothers me. like it's soured sooo many old dramas focused on parent-child conflicts for me bc of the way audiences villainize non-ideal trauma responses from children who are either forced into marriages or outcast from their families for refusing to be forced in the first place

#like when i say perfect victim i am thinking rahul and anjali from kkkg. for example. since they're quite well known and popular #rahul and anjali never fight back against rahul's father. not once #they're heartbroken by his decision and they Do move away but there's always a latent hope that he'll call them someday #and accept them into his arms again #so their severance from the family is palatable #but if rahul and anjali had fought back in any way. if they'd ever stood up or grown to be bitter bc of how they were treated #they absolutely would have been maligned by audiences #and i hate that. it's exactly what happens to ruhi in diyar e dil and it's so vile #not only is her husband cast out from his family and thrown into poverty #when she tries to win his father over that father calls her family lowly and unworthy #and he disowns her husband completely #like who wouldn't severe insecurity and bitterness after that?#everyone blames her for subsequently projecting her bitterness and anger and grief onto her daughter once her husband dies #but is that not the fault of the father in law who so brutally rejected her and instilled those insecurities in the first place?#where is his blame?#ugh. i swear rewatching old dramas is more upsetting than it is enjoyable atp fjldkhgf #to be deleted

28 notes · View notes

yoshistory · 9 months ago

Text

-___- i need to find a bookshelf thats been thrown out again .. theres no good trash here .. there's GREAT trash next door and i thiiiiiink enough time has passed that i feel comfortable walking over there sometimes and scouring their dumpsters every once in awhile

#especially at the end of the month .. when everyone's moving and dumping the things they're deciding not to take #or just moving in and dumping the things they decided dont fit their new place #i stiiiill regret not being able to take that perfect lil corner shelf that came with a tube tv just plopped right onto it... ugh ..#i wish i even took just the tv even .... ahhhuh...#it was RIGHT when i was moving outta there and i was awake for like 2.5 days and i was so exhausted i was like. im just going to go home #(new home) (so happy) (sitting in it now) (getting to live here ... 3)#and i passed out .. and when i got my gumption & came back to see if the shelf was there it was gone .... ;__; missed it #but there was ALWAYS really nice trashes there .. gotta see sometime ..#worried i'll be hit with like a dumping fine even though im TAKING .. but .. yknow actiually...#my old roommate never officially lived there but they still were able to dump a lot of trash off there and never got hit with anything #im... actually almost certainly fine if thats the case ...!

2 notes · View notes

thepositivefella · 2 months ago

Text

I was rewatching Gideon Rises and that scene in which he taunts Dipper by saying he has no muscle nor brains to fight back by himself without the Journal's help really gets to me...

And you know what? Ignore Ford's biased by society's expectations on a 1960's man: Dipper's greatest strenght was NEVER his brains.

I mean, he's incredibly smart, there's no doubt. But Gravity Falls is not a place in which you can survive with that alone despite Gideon and Ford saying so.

Dipper's greatest strenght was always the same as Stan: it's how much he loves his family and how far he's willing to go for his sister.

That same love was what made him stand up to the weirdness in Gravity Falls and always find a way out countless times. It's the reason he could sacrifice things for Mabel again and again and never once feel like she was in debt. The reason he could rescue her from Bill's perfect prison in Mabeland and EVEN THE REASON FORD WAS STILL HERE FOR WEIRDMAGEDDON.

The only thing able to subdue Dipper's very naturally human fear of death was his love for his new great uncle.

On a parallel note, Ford's strenght was actually the same as Mabel all along. His love for the unconventional and ability to think outside the box.

The same episode Mabel meets her favorite magical creature and finds out they're an asshole we get the flashback of Ford experiencing the exact same thing.

#gravity falls #god i wish this series has more time to flesh out the dipper and stan // mabel and ford parallels #dipper pines #grunkle stan #ford pines #stanford pines #mabel pines

9K notes · View notes

inkskinned · 5 months ago

Text

the thing about some men is that they want you to remember, at all times, that you are underneath them. that with one word or look or "joke", you will stay beneath them. that even "exceptions" to the rule are not true exceptions - the commonly cited statistic that one in eight men believe they could win against serena williams.

women's gymnastics is often not seen as real gymnastics. whatever the fuck non-euclidian horrors rhythmic gymnasts are capable of, it's often tamped down as being not a sport. some of the most dominant athletes in the world are women. nobody watches women's soccer. despite years of dancing and being built like a fucking brick, men always assume they're faster and stronger than i am. you wouldn't like what happens when they are incorrect. once while drunk at a guy's house i won a held-plank challenge by a solid minute. the party was over after that - he became exceedingly violent.

what i mean is that you can be perfect, and they still think you're ... lacking, somehow. i hope you understand i'm trying to express a neutral statement when i say: taylor swift was the possibly the most patriarchy-palatable, straight-down-the-line woman we could churn out. she is white, conventionally attractive, usually pretty mild in personality. say what you will about her (and you should, she's a billionaire, she can handle it), but a few things seem to be true about her: 1. she can write a damn catchy song, and 2. the eras tour truly was a massive commercial success and was also genuinely an impressive feat of human athleticism and performance.

i don't know if she deserves the title of "woman of the year," i'm not debating that in this post. what i am saying is that she was named Woman of The Year, and then an untalented man got onstage at the golden globes and made fun of her for attending her boyfriend's football games. what i am saying is that this woman altered local economies - and her dating life is still being made into a "harmless" punchline. the camera panned, greedy, over to her downing a full glass of champagne. congratulations taylor! you are woman of the year! but you are a woman. even her.

fuck, man. write better material.

a guy gets onstage at a college graduation and despite the fact like half the crowd is made up of women, he spends a significant proportion of it warning these people - who spent possibly hundreds of thousands of dollars on their education - that they were lied to. that the "real" meaning of femininity is motherhood. that they shouldn't rest on the laurels of that education-they-paid-for but instead throw it away to kneel at a man's heel. imagine that. sweating in your godawful polyester gown (that you also had to pay for!), fresh out of 4 years of pushing yourself ever-harder: and some guy you've never met - who knows nothing about you - he reminds you this "win" is a pyrrhic one at best. you really shouldn't consider yourself that extraordinary. you're still a woman, even after years of study.

god forbid you are not a pretty woman, but if you are pretty, you must be dumb. god forbid you are not ablebodied or white or cis or straight or good at swallowing. you must be beneath a man, or else they are not a man. the equation for masculinity seems to just be: that which is not a woman or womanly (god forbid). anything "feminine" is thereby anathema. to engage in "feminine" things such as therapy, getting a hug from a friend, or crying - it is giving up ones manhood. therefore women need to be put in their place to ensure that masculinity is protected.

this is something i have struggled to explain to terfs - they are not doing the work of feminism, but rather the patriarchy. by asserting that women and men must be (on some secret level) oppositional and in conflict, they also assume that being a woman is akin to being another species. but bigotry does not stem from observational truths or clarity - that is what makes it bigotry. there was nothing in my childhood that made me fundamentally different from my brother. we are treated differently nonetheless. to assert there is some biological drive that enforces my gender role is to assert that women have a gendered role. men do not see women as equal to them not because of biological reality - but instead because the core tenant of the patriarchy is that women aren't full, realized people.

we are told from a very young age to excuse misbehavior as a single man's choice - not all men. it is not all men, just that one guy. all women are gold-digging bitches who belong in the kitchen - but if a man is mean, bigoted, or violent to you, it's just that particular guy, and that means nothing about men-as-a-whole. it is only one guy who got mad when you gently rejected him. it is only one guy who warns her this trophy is heavy, are you sure you can hold it? it is only one guy who smashes her face into the cake. it is only one guy talking into a mic about hating our bodily autonomy.

i have just found that they often wait until the moment we actually seem to be upstaging them. you sit in a meeting where you're presenting your own findings and he says get me a coffee? or you run to the end of the marathon and are about to finish first and he pushes your kids out in front of you. you win the chess game and they make some comment akin to well, you're ugly away. we can be the billionaire and get the dream life and finally fucking do it and yet! still! they have this strange, visceral urge to say well actually, if you think you're so great -

it's not one just one guy. it's one in eight.

#posting my drafts #i want to stress im a taylor swift enjoyer. sorry.#also if someone wants to venmo me for the radfem hate i get daily i need like 60 bucks #someone stole my taylor swift official merch quarter zip :(#the point im specifically making in the tswift paragraphs i hope is clear which is like.#taylor is not threatening their ideas of masculinity or femininity. she is incredibly milquetoast. i mean i love her #but there's nothing about her that challenges the status quo. EXCEPT for her success.#and that's what pisses so many men off: the success.#so if THE VISION of white heteropatriarchy STILL is being treated this way.....#what do you think is happening to minority populations??#i just feel like be annoyed w/her about real things but being weird about her dating someone is like #soooooooooooooooooooooo fucking annoying. like ya know????#[said with the knowledge i need you to be soooo normal about how you interpret this entire piece and also these tags]

5K notes · View notes

elliewithcellie · 2 months ago

Text

Girl, Interrupted

summary: Eddie crashes by your home when you least expected, but everything happens for a reason, right?

wc: 1.8k

cw: PURE SMUT (MDNI 18+), basically no plot, friends to fwb?, oral (f receiving), Eddie is a tease, fairly bold reader lol, fingering, talk of p in v sex, hair pulling, orgasms idk let me know what else

a/n: my bestie bought me slutty pajamas for my birthday, and since I'm a hypothetical whore, this has been on my mind nonstop. Finally took a break from my spn series to write this down. This is the filthiest thing I've written to date but definitely short and sweet

Eddie’s jaw fell slack as the door opened before him. He knew he shouldn’t have shown up to your place uninvited. Sure, you were his best friend, and of course, you had said he could come over whenever, but that never truly meant unannounced. He was already kicking himself for showing up as late as he did when you opened the door.

Your oh so short pajama shorts were the first thing that caught his eye, how your thighs spilled out beneath them, the cotton begging for relief. His eyes trailed higher to your tank top one size too small. The hem rested just above your midriff, the outline of your hips more prominent than he had ever seen. Your face was flush, pinks and reds lining your cheeks. He fought the urge to pinch himself, scared that he was dreaming, scared that he’d wake up to the absence of you and very real feelings emerging.

“Eddie? What are you doing here?” you asked, your arms crossing over your chest. “I thought you had a date.”

Date, what date? Eddie’s mind was going numb. His brain was flatlining at the mere sight of you, more exposed to him than he’d ever seen you. Fight or flight kicked in, debating on whether to say something or just turn around and leave. He was almost sure he was not supposed to see you in this state.

“I—uhh—it didn’t go well, so I cut it short. But I know you love the place, so I figured I’d bring over the leftovers.”

“Oh, sweet. Thank you.”

Eddie hesitated, scared to ask, but his interest piqued. “Is someone—you’re alone right now, right?”

Your eyebrows pinched together. You exhaled a dry laugh. “Please, I’m always alone. Come in. Tell me about your date.”

You ushered Eddie inside and settled into your couch. You pulled a blanket over you, and Eddie released a sigh. He couldn’t believe the hold you suddenly had on him. It was like he was in high school again, ready to combust at the sight of a shoulder. At least with your legs covered, he was less inclined to think about spreading them.

“Was it really that bad?” you asked, drawing Eddie from his thoughts.

“She was just so boring,” Eddie complained. “Like, there’s nothing wrong with her, but it was like we were from different planets! She didn’t know Metallica! How am I supposed to bond with someone when there’s nothing to relate to?”

“Did you think of showing her?”

“Showing her what?”

“Metallica!” you laughed. “Wouldn’t that be kind of romantic, you know, to introduce that to her? Maybe tell her you’re in a band? It’d be like showing her a whole new world. And maybe you’d get a groupie out of it.”

Eddie swatted at the air. “It’s not worth it. We were both bored. And it was clear she wasn’t looking to rock with a guitarist.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that.”

“You didn’t meet her. She’s pristine, a Chrissy Cunningham type. Meant to be with a lawyer or some shit.”

You leaned in closer to Eddie, your blanket sliding down your thighs. “Those are the girls who fantasize about guys like you the most. Those girls on the straight and narrow, the ones who seemed destined to be sweet stay-at-home moms or perfect career women, those are the ones who dream of just one night doing something they never thought they could. Something so wild that when they’re taking their kids to soccer practice, or their ‘perfect husband’ is asleep on the recliner while they're doing the dishes, they can think back to that wild night when they fucked a rockstar.”

Eddie’s lip trembled as chills coursed through his body. You leaned back against the couch and shrugged like what you said was nothing. You had to be on something, he decided. Never had you been so frank when the topic of sex came up. Your face was still flushed with color, and you couldn’t seem to find a comfortable position on the couch, shifting yourself from one side to the other to no specific rhythm. Heat radiated off of you, though you weren’t known to be the furnace between the two of you. Something struck Eddie as so foreign but so familiar as he took you in.

“Would you fuck a rockstar?” Eddie found himself saying.

Heat rose to your cheeks. “Do I seem like one of those straight-and-narrow girls to you?”

“That’s not what I asked,” Eddie said, a newfound confidence overtaking him. “You came up with that way too fast to act like you don’t think of it, too. So, would you fuck a rockstar?”

You bit your lip and shifted in your seat. You huffed into the couch. “Wouldn’t anyone?”

“Why so shy all of a sudden?” Eddie asked, egging you on. “You’ve been squirming since I got here, sweetheart. Is something on your mind?”

Your eyes trailed from his eyes to his lips, then back to his eyes. “Tonight is not the night to ask me that.”

“Why is that?” Eddie chuckled. “Were you in the middle of something? Was something left unfinished when I so rudely interrupted? And now all you can think about is the ache between your legs?”

You shuddered at his words. “Eddie,” you said, your voice shaking.

“I could help you.” Eddie leaned closer, his words almost a whisper. “Because I may not be a rockstar, but I’m sure I could give you the night of your life.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. “Don’t tease me. It’s not funny.”

“No one’s laughing.” Eddie pulled the blanket back, his hands resting on your thighs. Your legs slightly opened on instinct. “What kind of friend would I be, huh? If I didn’t at least offer?”

Eddie didn’t know where this bravado came from, but he didn’t care. All he knew was the longer you looked at him like that, the harder he got.

You grabbed him by his shirt and forced his lips on yours. Nothing soft or sweet came from your lips. You were needy and desperate, clinging to him like he was the air in your lungs.

The urgency shocked Eddie, but he quickly found your rhythm. He smirked against your lips as he pulled his jacket off. His hands snaked from your thighs to your hips to your ass, lifting you onto his lap. You groaned into his mouth as he rolled you against him.

He was sure he was dreaming now. Only there did he ever picture you above him, grinding your hips into his. Only there did he imagine you moaning from his touch. But never were his dreams this vivid, this real, this fucking good.

He pulled you from him and pushed you back onto the couch. You whined at the loss of contact. He’d never seen your eyes so dark, so lustful, so hungry for him.

He slid down to the floor onto his knees and pulled you to the edge of the couch. “You still want my help, sweetheart?”

You nodded emphatically.

“I need to hear you, baby. Say it.”

“Please help me, Eddie. I need you. Please.”

“Atta girl.”

You lifted yourself up as Eddie pulled your shorts down your legs. Eddie’s cock jumped at the sight of you. He bit his lip to maintain what little composure he had left.

“Aww, your poor little pussy’s just as needy as you, isn’t she?” He spread your knees apart, the cold metal on his fingers sending chills up your spine. The throbbing between your legs only intensified, a small whimper escaping your lips.

Eddie couldn’t wait any longer. There was no time for teasing, no time to explore. You needed him, and he was going to deliver.

He dove into your aching pussy like a man starved. You jumped at the contact, your hands flying to his hair. His tongue worked overtime, kitten-licking your clit before diving in for more.

“You taste so good, sweetheart,” he said, smiling against you. You moaned in response, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling him closer.

Your sounds turned him on even more, searching for his own release as he rubbed himself against the couch. His mind was in a daze, in utter disbelief that anyone could look so perfect for him with your legs spread and your back arched. Your chest rose and fell to the rhythm of his tongue, and your lips formed a perfect ‘o’. Oh, how Eddie wanted to feel your lips around his cock. How you’d sink down on him, your perfect innocent mouth being completely sinful just for him.

He placed a finger at your entrance and pumped in and out, his thumb now circling your clit. Your head fell back. “God, yes, Eddie. Just like that.”

“I need you to do something for me, baby,” Eddie said as he added a second finger.

“Wha—what’s that?” you asked, breathless.

“I need you to tell me what you think of when you get off. Tell me what you were thinking of before I showed up at your door.”

“I—I oh god,” you shouted as Eddie’s lips found your clit. “I—I thought about you on your fucking date.”

“Oh fuck,” Eddie groaned into your pussy, the vibrations shooting up your spine.

“I pictured you fucking her from behind, her skirt hiked up to her hips, her panties to the side as you fucked her in front of the bathroom mirror.”

“Fucking C—Christ,” Eddie stuttered, his hips rutting into the couch faster. “Keep going.”

“Then it was me you were fucking. You grabbed me by the hair, so I could watch what you were doing to me,” you said, your voice shaking with every word. “Eddie, please. I’m close. Please.”

“Come on, baby. You can do it. Tell me what I was doing to you.” He was past dreaming at this point. He was sure this was heaven. Hearing your words had him reeling. He didn’t want to stop, didn't know how to stop. He just knew he needed to see you come.

Your lip trembled. “Your hands were all over me, playing with my tits, your lips on my neck, and—and your big cock pounding into me over and oh-ver and—and Fuck! Eddie, don’t stop! Please, please, please!”

Your orgasm crashed down on you, expletives and Eddie’s name on your lips. Eddie continued to pump his fingers in and out of you like a madman as he lapped up your cum.

“Oh god, oh fuck!” he moaned against you.

You pushed his head off of you and caught your breath. Eddie took a breath, too, leaning back against his heels. You pulled him back up to you and kissed him, tasting yourself on your lips.

“That… was so hot,” Eddie said, releasing a breath.

“Can it be my turn to help you?” you asked, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

Eddie’s cheeks rouged slightly, his eyes trailing to the growing wet spot on his jeans. “I had a turn already,” he said, guilt painting his words. He leaned in toward you, a devilish smirk joining his features. “But I’m not done with you. Not yet.”

#eddie munson smut #eddie stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader

3K notes · View notes

teddybeartoji · 4 months ago

Text

zombie apocalypse au where you end up in a settlement and meet a cutiepie satoru. he's lived almost his entire life there – sure, he goes on runs every once in a while but you've been out there. it's different.

right?

the dark bags under your eyes have yet to fade but satoru has never heard you complain. he knows everybody gets a talk when they first come to this place; where they can get help, who they can talk to when if they have any problems. if you can't sleep. or eat. or if you still feel restless. it's understandable that the change from having to fight for your life on a daily basis to not even having to carry a gun with you is hard.

the food tastes weird when you're not starving and drinking water seems like a complete waste when you're not dying of thirst. the bed you sleep on is too soft, the sheets feel like silk and it makes your skin itch. it's off-putting.

and yet, not a single complaint has left your lips. you observe your surroundings while handing out pretty little smiles like they're candy. you say thank you and goodbye, you offer to help out with the chores that weren't even yours to begin with and you're willing to entertain the kids with silly jokes. it's an almost perfect mask.

but you're tense; your eyes are always scanning your environment despite the fact that you've been at the settlement for almost a week now. you stretch your lips to show your gratitude, but satoru sees the way your fist tightens whenever the room is too crowded. the way you pocket smaller snacks when you think that nobody is looking. the way you flinch at a faraway sound of a child's laugh.

satoru finds you utterly intriguing.

people come and go, but you... there's something different about you.

maybe it's the dark, murky look in your eyes whenever you're handling a knife. carving a piece of meat like it's something you do every day; your eyes are the only things that change – you give a small smile to the lady working next to you as a thank you for whatever kind of advice she just gave you. she pats the steak while laughing and satoru doesn't miss the way your lips twitch.

you lick the remnants of the meat that stick to your fingers, the liquid that dribbles down the side of your hand the second she turns around. and satoru can't look away.

but there's no obvious malice.

it's interesting.

satoru is no detective, but he's done his fair share of people looking. what else is there to do when you're locked behind big walls; people are interesting, especially now that the world has ended. they tick faster, they explode bigger. they shiver more, they cry more. the lies have more consequences. it's hard to trust others, it's hard to trust anybody at this point. but satoru's eyes are keen, more so than anyone else's there.

you're not some caged beast, you're no dog on a leash, but you're an animal nonetheless. satoru just doesn't know which one yet. which of the living things that reside in the woods is calm enough to get so close to other people? confident enough. arrogant enough.

which one of them is as curious as you are? as sly? which one of them knows how to hide their sharp teeth behind a warm smile? satoru promises to himself that he'll figure it out, no matter what it takes.

or maybe the 'something' is the way you handle yourself when things go south. you didn't look away when a walker that managed to slip in through the gates sank his teeth into a man's neck. when everybody else was in shock, their eyes set on the gory sight in front of them – you were the first to grab the closest thing resembling a weapon and to deal with it.

blood splattered all over your clean clothes, your hair, your face. but you paid it no mind. this is what you're used to, this is what's normal. taking a knife to the poor wailing man laying on the ground was nothing special either. you kneeled down beside him and looked him in the eyes as you did it.

desperate hands reached out for you as fear settled in his stomach. he grabbed onto the collar of your shirt and pulled you closer, pleas stumbling from his lips like a waterfall. but to you, he was dead already. there's no remorse, there's no guilt. you're not a killer, you're a survivor.

satoru's mind raced as he watched you work while all the other had turned away, their sobs barely reaching his ears. no remorse, no guilt.

he just thought the blood looked beautiful on you.

but you're keen, too.

you try not to pay him too much attention, you try not to look but you feel his curious eyes wherever you go. you hear him laugh and you see his big smiles. he likes to play with the kids and he likes to tease his peers. he seems to know just about everybody, mingling in their lives by acting like a cupid or just indulging in gossip like some high schooler.

but something rotten sprouts deep inside him as well.

there's blood on his hands and you know it the second your gazes meet from across the big dining hall. the corners of his eyes crinkle and his dimples make a show as he gives you a grin, sharp teeth shining right at you. he knows you and you know him.

a survivor always recognizes a survivor.

#this is hashtag wordvomit.#freak satoru my beloved<3333 #angel boy #wtf mickey can write #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo drabble #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru drabble #jjk gojo #jjk x reader #jjk drabble #jjk oneshot #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru au #jjk au

2K notes · View notes

narcjsistx · 18 days ago

Text

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐈𝐄𝐖... | sae, kaiser, rin

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!

plot: you get mentioned in one of their interviews, and he's sooo in love with you <3

— sae itoshi

That Sae didn't like interviews was a well known thing, even the journalists were a little worried when they discovered they had to interview him: although he was a prodigy, a talent never seen in years and years of soccer, he was objectively a thorn in the side, acidic and lethal in words as he was with his shots in the penalty area. All the journalists who had dealt with the Japanese prodigy could say, with absolute certainty, that a slap or being fired was less annoying

And today was no exception. ReAl had just won a very important Spanish cup, but one that Sae didn't actually know much about. They simply told him to be himself, and so he did: the result was a landslide victory against the Venezuelan team, 7-1. The match had been over for less than half an hour and he had already been surrounded by journalists, whom he had pushed away with little courtesy as he headed towards the locker room. But one journalist had insisted more than the others, and with a sigh, the boy had dedicated 5 minutes of his time to him

"Exciting victory today, isn't it? Spain had been aiming for this cup for years but they only won it when you had a place in the team" says the journalist, microphone pointed towards Sae. A man, a little further away, held a video camera on his shoulder, pointed towards them. Sae nods, turning away when he swears he hears someone call out to him in a familiar voice. The reporter continues talking, but Sae pays no attention: that voice sounded so familiar

"So that's a yes?" the reporter says, the microphone still pointed towards him. Sae doesn't even know what question he asked him, but the mere fact that he's still here trying to get information out of him bothers him. "What?" he asks raising an eyebrow, and before the reporter even says it, Sae knows it's about you

“Your girlfriend isn't here today, which is strange considering she's always present at your games, even when they're out of town” the reporter says, probably repeating the words he asked him earlier. Sae isn't even surprised by the question, he already knows what he wants to ask him and mentally thanks himself for not answering with 'yes' at the previous question "Is this a sign that you've broken up? There have been rumors for a while that the feeling between you two is over-"

"No. We have not broken up and at the moment, and even in the future, the option is not in mind for either of us" says the boy without thinking for two seconds, taking the edge of the microphone with one hand, so that his words they arrive very straight. The journalist is surprised

Today, for the first time since you've been together, you couldn't come to his game. You actually haven't seen each other in a while, at least a month, and all the speculation that you had broken up had reached Sae's ears. Everything seemed to fit, the perfect breakup after years of a perfect relationship and a wedding ring on the line that Sae had offered you months ago. Everything seemed to coincide with the end of one of the most talked about relationships of the moment

But the reality is that simply, for university reasons, you had to move to Italy for a few months. Sae often came to you, but couldn't stay for whole days due to training... and so, for just over a month, you hadn't seen each other. If the truth wasn't known, you would actually look like a couple who hated each other by now

“Would you tell us more about all the evidence that has been circulating for over a month?” asks the journalist, and the boy already knows in his mind that the interview will not end well if this damned journalist continues to be so interested in something that does not concern him

Sae sighs. He knows that, from your temporary home in Italy, you are watching him. He knows well that every word he is saying you are listening to him. And it's time to make things clear once and for all,or he thinks he's going crazy

"Y/n and I haven't broken up, it's not on our minds and wedding preparations are currently underway. I hate when people seem so interested in something that actually has nothing to do with them, but I understand that it's your job and that's why I'm holding back from going harder on it" says Sae in one breath "My future wife and I don't have anything remotely negative in mind for our relationship, so if you would do me the favor of mentioning her only when there really is a reason, I would be happy" says Sae, and the journalist is suddenly understanding why all his colleagues had told him to stay away from the Japanese prodigy "So, if you really have questions for me about my performance today, I'll try to answer. Otherwise, bye" he says, handing the microphone back to the man, who takes it completely speechless

The camera shows him leaving, hiding the journalist who is still speechless. The camera zoom focuses on the background of Sae's phone, which appears for a few seconds when the boy takes the phone while heading towards the locker room. A photo of you and him cheek to cheek stands out, a small smile breaking across the boy's face as you laugh. With only this proof alone, literally everybody could definitively say that you didn't break up

— micheal kaiser

Micheal was now used to interviews. Since he had actually become someone, someone relegated to Germany's biggest soccer club, interviews had become an everyday thing, like brushing his teeth or kicking the ball as hard as he could during training. He was good looking, he had charisma, he was definitely one of the most pleasant to interview on his team. If the interviewer was a woman he would crack a few jokes, something to make things more interesting. It was objectively flirting with them, but since you had officially become his girlfriend, he had put a stop to these things, out of respect for you

The room was well furnished, he was sitting on a sofa placed in front of the large windows, which gave a view of the great metropolis of Hamburg. You were with him, sitting behind the cameras on a chair placed there at random. He had insisted to the producers that you appear next to him during the interview, but it wasn't possible. His nose was still a little crooked knowing that they got you that beat up chair by sheer luck. You were his empress, the respect they had for him they had to give to you too, and it hadn't happened

He knew that you didn't really care that much, but your respect was something that, at least in front of him, they couldn't miss. But making a fuss just for this didn't seem right at the moment, at most he would have done it after finishing the interview

A woman enters the room, probably only a few years older than him, in her thirties. She looked familiar, and he wasn't sure why he had a bad feeling. The woman approaches, sitting on one of the armchairs next to him. They could have changed your chair for that armchair, why hadn't they done it?

"It's a real pleasure for me to interview you again. It's been a long time since the first time!" the woman says smiling, and from there Micheal finally understands why he felt like he knew her: a few years ago, before he even met you, he did an interview with this woman. The video had gone viral not for the questions, but for the way it was obvious the two of them were flirting with each other. Not that Micheal was really interested, it was just a habit before he met you

Before he can even say anything, a producer announces the start of the interview. The woman smiles at the camera, giving a brief introduction before moving on to a few questions: they are all things related to soccer, Bastard Munchen and the next match against Italy, which will take place in a few weeks. Micheal relaxes his nerves a little to see that nothing has to do with his private life, and turns around to see you from time to time. You smile softly at him, nodding as a sign that he's going well, really everything is going well

But Kaiser relaxed too soon, unfortunately. "Sooo, the internet world has been wondering this for a while... and now seems like the right opportunity to ask it! We're done with soccer questions anyway, right?" the woman says, chuckling, placing a stack of notes on a nearby table, picking up another. Kaiser tilts his head, and for a moment, he thinks these are the usual questions related to his relationship. Nothing new

"Our first interview was four years ago, when you weren't even dating yet. The internet world wondered for a long time if we were together!" the woman says, with a look that Kaiser recognizes: hoe. He turns to you and for a moment he reads some confusion on your face "The interview went so viral that everyone really thought it was a way to reveal our relationship to the world. But it didn't go that way, unfortunately" says the woman

If he wasn't live nationally and if the interviewer wasn't a woman, he would have already crushed her face with his fist. With what logic does she talk about something like that in front of you, his girlfriend? Where's the fucking respect they're supposed to give you but are lacking in every possible way? Everything is going wrong

“It sure would have been a fun thing to do and-” the woman says speaking casually, but the guy interrupts her “Schatz, could you come over here for a sec?” Kaiser says, shifting his attention solely to you, who finds yourself perplexed for a moment. He's breaking every rule possible, but he doesn't care. If he wants you next to him on national live broadcast, the producers will make you stand next to him on national live broadcast

You get up from the chair a little scared, walking among the producers who mentally and not curse Kaiser. You pass the woman who, with an annoyed look, stares at you. With slightly shaky legs you sit next to Micheal, who immediately grabs you putting his arm around your shoulders, pushing your hip against his. You try to smile as best you can in front of the camera, which records everything. Kaiser squeezes your shoulder slightly, and then turns his face back towards the camera "I don't rule out that that interview made me go viral everywhere for months and months, increasing my fame" says the boy "But my behavior was a bit wrong at the time, I was definitely giving attention to people who shouldn't have been..." says Micheal, and while you try to hold back a laugh, the interviewer opens her paralyzed mouth

Kaiser chuckles at the situation, then continues "The attention that I used to give to random people is now received by her, who deserves it all. The mere fact that she accompanies me everywhere is a valid reason to love her, right?" the boy says, squeezing your shoulder again, and you smile in love "She is simply better. It's not even a competition, because she would win before even starting. Maybe if my girlfriend had been the interviewer that time I would say differently now! Maybe I would have already married her, who knows" Kaiser says, and you tilt your head against his shoulder, leaning on him like you always do. You're so damn in love with him

If the producers and interviewer failed to give you respect behind the scenes and also with annoyance, Kaiser will make sure to prove your worth in front of the whole Germany

— itoshi rin

If there was one thing that distinguished Rin from his teammates, it was the ability to turn each of his interviews into a future edit that would become popular on all social media. He was famous, damn famous, every scene of his was edited by millions of people every day. His interviews, for his fans, were the best opportunity to make scenes about him

And since you had been dating, for a few years now, you had suffered more or less the same treatment as Rin. You often appeared in his interviews, you were loved by his fan base, and the edits about you that went as viral as those of your beloved boyfriend

"...the Australian defense this time had to face a much better prepared Japan than last match" says the interviewer, the microphone held out towards Rin. A match has just ended, obviously won by Japan: Rin is still sweaty, his legs slightly weak from running for practically the entire duration of the match. But he's not sick, he's simply tired and he just wants to kiss you

Of course you came to his game, taking a seat in the VIP section of the players' families. It's a habit that, as soon as the match is over, he comes to the VIP section to kiss you, but this time he couldn't: the journalists completely captured him, making it impossible to even move a few meters

"Yes. We decided to change the defense to prepare for Australia's top scorer, who couldn't do anything this time compared to previous matches" Rin replies disinterestedly, looking for you. There are just so many people, so many players or interviewers, but where the hell are you? Didn't something happen to you?

"It must also be said that Japan no longer has any problems in terms of strikers since you joined as an honorary member of the team" says the interviewer, and Rin nods without actually thinking much about what they told him. He just has a strange feeling, he doesn't understand why he isn't seeing you when it's never been difficult for him to find you in a crowd of people

"Any projects in mind at the moment? On a soccer level or on a personal level?" the interviewer asks, but Rin stops hearing him when, a few meters away from him, he sees you: you're a little lost, your gaze curious while you were probably looking for him too. It makes him somewhat tender to see you like this, but he is happy to know that all his doubts about whether something had happened to you are false

"Mr. Itoshi?" the man asks, but Rin takes a few steps forward, not enough to disappear from the camera lens, to signal to you that he's there. It doesn't take you long to notice, running like a little girl in his direction, hugging him as you wrap your arms around his neck, while he places his hands on your hips. "I couldn't find you!" you say laughing, holding onto your boyfriend who holds you close to him "It's the journalists' fault" Rin whispers, leaving a kiss on your cheek before remembering that he's in the middle of an interview. He turns just enough to see that the camera is now perfectly directed towards you, immortalizing the romantic moment between Japan's number one striker and his beautiful girlfriend. The edits will be crazy this time

You notice that the camera is pointed towards you, and a little embarrassed you try to smile without revealing the hint of discomfort "I'll be back later?" you say to your boyfriend, who before you can even finish the sentence, shakes his head as he grabs your wrist "No. You're coming too" he says walking back towards the station, squeezing your wrist affectionately. You follow him, a little embarrassed but it wasn't the first time it happened, so you had gotten used to it

Rin returns to his seat, his arm around your waist ignoring the fact that he almost slipped out of an interview. You stand next to him, your arm behind his back, smiling at the man who now knows both of them "Were you saying?" Rin asks, returning to the interview questions

"Oh, yeah yeah... any projects in mind at the moment? On a soccer level or on a personal level?" the interviewer asks again

Rin thinks about it for a moment. The plans are actually there. He must still become the best of the best, climb to the top and lead Japan to be the strongest team in the world. It simply has yet to break some of its limitations

But there are also other projects. He has to decide when to use that ring he bought more than a few months ago. He must understand when to kneel down and definitely ask you to become Miss Itoshi, his wife. These are mainly his most important projects at the moment

"I still have a lot to do, Japan has to become the most important and strongest team in the world, and maybe I will take on the role of team captain. On a personal level though... I don't know, I just want to continue what I already doing for a while… making her happy every day” Rin says, and you can swear you feel your heart explode

Your boyfriend isn't a big talker, you knew this even before we got together. But the facts speak, and he is doing exactly what he says: every day he makes you happy, and you couldn't be more grateful. His words may seem like nothing, but they mean a lot to you. You simply love him. The interviewer smiles. You turn to Rin and he leans down slightly to kiss you on the nose, making you giggle while the cameras film you

Maybe Rin could use that ring tonight, maybe?

1K notes · View notes

gyuuberryy · 5 months ago

Text

teeth

“let's play together, you make me so thirsty”

pairing: vampire!heeseung x reader

synopsis: you were not thrilled about the move in of your new neighbour. mostly because he was so strange and seemed to be hiding something dark. and partly because you couldn’t stop yourself from getting closer to him because of your unwanted attraction. you were determined to expose his dark secret and get rid of him once and for all. but, it was proving to be a difficult task because he was just so irresistible..and needy.

genre: enemies to lovers, vampire au

warnings: lots of suggestive content!!(read at your own discretion), blood, alcohol, getting trapped in a lift, making out, teeth and biting(obviously)

note: this is like my first time writing something suggestive so i was a little nervous, but i think it turned out well! there's no smut tho. teeth is such a freaky song teehee, i hope this gives off the same vibes. listen to the song while reading this, enjoy!

word count: 5.2k

if you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3

fairy lights strung across the hallway cast a warm glow on the gaggle of your neighbours crammed into the shared corridor. plates heaped with enough food to feed a small army overflowed from a makeshift table, the air thick with the aroma of baked ziti and something suspiciously like burnt brownies.

it was the monthly floor potluck, a supposed chance for neighbourly bonding. you, however, stood alone by the shoe rack, arms crossed and a scowl firmly in place.

the source of your discontent? lee heeseung, the new resident in 3B. he'd moved in a week ago, and in that short time, had managed to charm the socks off everyone else. mrs. kim from 3A gushed about his "angelic smile," mr. lee from across the hall swore he'd single-handedly fixed the perpetually leaky faucet, and even the ever-grumpy mrs. park from 2B had softened to his "polite demeanour." you, however, weren't buying it.

there was something… off about him. he was a little too pale, a little too perfect. the way his eyes seemed to glint in the fairy lights sent shivers down your spine, not the good kind. maybe it was the way he never seemed to eat anything, politely declining every dish offered with a charming smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. or maybe it was just a gut feeling, a primal instinct screaming that there was more to heeseung than met the eye.

as you nursed your lukewarm coffee, heeseung materialised beside you, a plate piled high with (uneaten) pasta in his hand. his smile, as always, was dazzling.

"hey there! i'm heeseung, from 3b. i’ve been meaning to meet you for a while! everyone's been raving about you."

you narrowed your eyes at him. "is that right?"

he chuckled, a sound a little too melodious. "absolutely! they say you make the best chocolate chip cookies on the floor." he gestured to the burnt offering on the table. "though, these brownies look like they could use some work."

a sarcastic snort escaped your lips. "they're mrs. park's. apparently, baking isn't her forte."

heeseung's smile faltered for a brief moment, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features before he recovered. "well, maybe next time you could bring your famous cookies," he suggested, his voice smooth as silk.

you raised an eyebrow, suspicion solidifying in your gut. "maybe i will," you said, your voice devoid of warmth.

heeseung seemed to hesitate, the air crackling with a strange tension. then, with another dazzling smile, he excused himself and moved on to mrs. kim, who was already gushing about his "nonexistent" culinary skills.

you watched him go, a cold dread settling in your stomach. he might be fooling everyone else, but you wouldn't be swayed by his facade. there was something about heeseung, something dark and unsettling, and you were determined to find out what it was.

weeks bled into months, and your suspicions about heeseung only intensified. he'd become the bane of your existence, a charming yet infuriating shadow that seemed to follow you around the building. every potluck, every hallway encounter was a constant push and pull between your icy suspicion and his playful facade.

he revelled in teasing you, his compliments bordering on flirtatious. "looking lovely today, aren’t you?" he'd purr, his eyes gleaming with an amusement that sent shivers down your spine. you'd counter with sarcastic remarks that usually sailed right over his head, leaving you more frustrated than ever.

one particularly rainy afternoon, you were rushing down the hallway, arms laden with groceries, when the treacherous floor betrayed you. your foot slipped, and you went sprawling towards the cold tile. but before you could hit the ground, strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you upright with surprising ease.

for a moment, you were trapped in heeseung's embrace. your ear was pressed against his chest, and a jolt of fear shot through you. there was no comforting thud of a heartbeat, just a chilling silence. his touch was icy cold, sending a wave of goosebumps erupting across your skin.

you scrambled away from him, a mixture of terror and anger twisting your features. "don't touch me!" you hissed, dropping a bag of groceries with a clatter.

heeseung straightened, his smile unwavering. "whoa there. just trying to be a good neighbour."

you glared at him, your voice trembling. "there's nothing neighbourly about you, heeseung. what are you?"

his smile faltered for a flicker of a second, a flicker you caught this time. but it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by his usual charming facade. "just a guy who likes to help out a damsel in distress," he said, his voice laced with amusement.

but the amusement didn't reach his eyes. they held a glint of something predatory, something that confirmed your worst fears. he wasn't normal. and whatever he was, it was becoming increasingly clear that he was toying with you.

you grabbed the remaining grocery bags, clutching them tightly to your chest as if they were a shield. "don't think this is over, heeseung," you hissed, your voice surprisingly steady despite the fear gnawing at your insides. "i'll find out who you are, and i'll expose you."

he tilted his head, a playful glint back in his eyes. "is that a challenge, darling?" he asked, his voice a low murmur that sent shivers down your spine. "be careful what you wish for. you might just find out more than you bargained for."

with that cryptic message hanging in the air, he turned and sauntered back to his apartment, leaving you alone in the hallway, the weight of his words and the chilling memory of his touch settling over you like a shroud. you were determined to unravel the mystery of heeseung, but a new, terrifying question gnawed at you: were you prepared for what you might find?

sleep evaded you that night. the unsettling encounter with heeseung replayed on a loop in your mind. you tossed and turned, the silence punctuated only by the rhythmic tapping of rain against your window. finally, unable to bear the tension any longer, you crept out of bed and tiptoed towards the door, hoping to get some fresh air.

just as you were about to unlock the door the ‘ding’ of the elevator’s arrival stopped you in your tracks. who could it be this late at night?

peeking through the peephole, you were met with a sight that sent a fresh wave of terror coursing through you. heeseung stood casually a few feet away from your door, the rain slicking his dark hair back from his forehead.

he was whistling a cheerful tune, completely oblivious to your scrutiny. but what truly sent shivers down your spine was the state of his hands. they were stained with something dark and viscous, drying in the cool night air. it looked… suspiciously like blood.

the blood ran cold in your veins. just as you were about to pull back, heeseung paused, his head tilting ever so slightly as if he could sense you watching. a slow, unnerving smirk spread across his face, his eyes seeming to lock with yours through the peephole. how? it was impossible.

panic clawed at you. you stumbled back, adrenaline flooding your system. you had to warn the others. heeseung couldn't be trusted.

the next day, you stormed into mrs. kim's apartment, her usual cheery demeanour replaced by a frantic urgency. you blurted out everything – the coldness, the lack of a heartbeat, and the bloodstains you witnessed the night before.

mrs. kim, however, listened with a furrowed brow. "blood? are you sure, dear? heeseung wouldn't hurt a fly."

heeseung, conveniently appearing in the midst of your outburst, played the part of the concerned neighbour perfectly.

"is everything alright here?" he asked, his voice dripping with feigned innocence. "seems a little tense."

mrs. kim just dismissed him, shaking her head with a small chuckle, “nothing dear, it’s not important.”

his smile was disarming, his eyes brimming with feigned innocence. "oh i see. what were you two talking about so intently then?"

you glared at him, your voice trembling with barely contained anger. "i was just telling mrs. kim about your… unusual habits." you recounted the previous night's events, your gaze flitting between mrs. kim and heeseung.

heeseung chuckled, a light, airy sound that sent shivers down your spine. immediately, his expression morphed into one of concern, looking at mrs kim. "hasn’t she been acting strangely lately? maybe a little… stressed?"

his words stung. he was twisting the narrative, making you seem paranoid and delusional. your frustration grew, your voice rising as you tried to explain what you saw, but your neighbour's eyes held only pity and dismissal.

mrs. kim patted your hand soothingly. "maybe you're just a little stressed, dear. heeseung's a good boy, always looking out for everyone. don't you worry about him."

shame burned in your cheeks. you were alone, your warnings falling on deaf ears. heeseung's smile widened, the glint in his eyes predatory.

"see?" he said, his voice low and menacing, but directed only at you. "sometimes, silence is the best policy."

with that, he turned and sauntered away, leaving you trapped in a nightmare you couldn't seem to wake up from.

back in your apartment, you sank onto the couch, a defeated sigh escaping your lips. you were alone, your suspicions dismissed as paranoia. but the image of heeseung's bloodstained hands, his chilling smirk, burned into your memory. you wouldn't give up. you had to find a way to expose him, to prove to everyone that the perfect neighbour was nothing but a monster in disguise.

the bass vibrated through the floor, the air thick with sweat and the sweet scent of spilled cocktails. you were lost in the music, laughing with your friends, a rare moment of reprieve from the constant worry that was heeseung. the tipsy buzz from the vodka-cranberries only amplified the carefree feeling, pushing his unsettling presence to the back of your mind.

tipsy from a few too many drinks, you excused yourself, needing a momentary escape from the pulsating heat of the dance floor of the club. the cool night air was a welcome change as you stepped into the balcony, the cityscape shimmering under the neon glow. a sudden prickle ran down your spine, making you stop mid-step. it was the distinct feeling of someone's gaze boring into you, a predator sizing up its prey.

your heart hammered against your ribs as you spun around, searching the crowd. there, leaning against the wall opposite the club entrance, stood heeseung. his perfect features were cast in shadow, but the glint of his eyes in the darkness sent a shiver down your spine. he held a drink in his hand, his knuckles white around the glass, as if tightening his grip to control himself.

the moment you locked eyes with him, the air crackled with a tension so thick you could almost taste it. it wasn't just fear this time. there was a strange undercurrent, a dark energy that seemed to emanate from him.

your mind, fuzzy from the alcohol, couldn't quite grasp it, but your body reacted instinctively. panic surged through you, erasing the tipsy haze. this wasn't the charming neighbour; this was the dangerous entity you'd glimpsed before.

you didn't waste a second. turning on your heel, you practically sprinted back into the club, weaving through the crowd. your breath came out in ragged gasps, fueled by a cocktail of fear and the alcohol throbbing in your veins.

with a desperate lunge, you pushed open the nearest door, the sign above it proclaiming it a restroom.

just as you fumbled for the lock, a strong hand shot past your shoulder, wedging itself between the door and the frame. you froze, staring in horror as heeseung casually pushed his way in behind you. he slammed the door shut with a sickening thud, the lock clicking ominously behind him.

he cornered you against the door, his body acting as a wall and a scent that was both familiar and strangely intoxicating. the air crackled with unspoken tension, thick with the remnants of your fear and an undeniable spark of…something else.

“what do you think you’re doing?”, you winced at how weak your voice sounded.

he leaned impossibly close, his breath chilly against your ear. he seemed to be tipsy as well, with the way he stumbled and invaded your personal space.

the alcohol loosened your inhibitions, and his voice, usually smooth and playful, now had a dark, alluring edge to it.

"you looked beautiful dancing under those lights," he whispered, his words sending shivers down your spine. "such a shame you seem to hate me so."

his nearness was overwhelming. you couldn't feel any heat radiating from his body, but the way his lips brushed against your ear sent a jolt through you. his voice, usually smooth as silk, now had a rough edge, sending a shiver down your spine that wasn't entirely unpleasant.

your mind, fuzzy from the alcohol, struggled to process the situation. he was terrifying, yes, but a strange, confusing attraction warred with the fear simmering beneath the surface.

your gaze latched onto the physical beauty in front of you - the sharp angles of his jaw, the way the moonlight glinted off his dark brown eyes. all the warnings you'd tried to ignore hammered against your intoxicated mind, but for some reason, they held no power in the face of the undeniable magnetism of the man pinning you to the door.

“what do you want from me”, your words came out in a hushed whisper, scared as if speaking any louder would ruin the moment.

his gaze flitted down to your lips as he got closer to you, now only a breath away. he leaned closer, the scent of something foreign, yet oddly alluring, invading your senses.

his gaze dropped to your lips, painted a soft pink from the drinks you'd consumed.

before you could register the movement, his lips were on yours. the kiss was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions – the initial shock giving way to a surge of heat that defied logic. his hand slid down your back, pressing you flush against the wooden door.you clung to him, a confused mix of fear and a thrilling sense of forbidden desire coursing through you.

the kiss deepened, becoming desperate, hungry. he tasted of something sweet and metallic, a strange anomaly that sent a jolt through your system. you ignored it, caught up in the intoxicating whirlwind.

his body was freezing cold, save for his lips, his skin a contrast against the heat from your body which made a wave of concern rise up in the back of your head. but it was all forgotten as his hand moved to your neck, his fingers trailing a chilly path before dipping behind your ear.

you gasped at the sudden feeling, and heeseung took the opportunity to let his tongue enter your mouth. the kiss got messier and hotter, as if he was trying to devour you whole.

he rained kisses down your jawline, each one a searing brand against your skin. his touch sent shivers of anticipation down your spine, your breath hitching as you felt his teeth graze a sensitive spot.

it wasn't a bite, not yet. it was a brush, a feather-light caress that sent a jolt through your system. but it wasn't just the touch. there was something… different about his canines. they were sharper, pointier than human teeth, and the sensation sent a wave of surprise through you.

he froze, the movement of his mouth stopping abruptly. his breath hitched in his throat, coming out in ragged gasps like a predator startled mid-hunt. his eyes, locked on your neck, flickered with a mix of hunger and… something else. a flicker of remorse, a struggle you couldn't quite decipher.

the tension in the room was suffocating. you stared back at him, your mind a tangled mess of confusion and desire. but before you could form a question, before you could understand the shift in him, heeseung pulled away. his grip on your neck loosened, replaced by a cold indifference.

his eyes, once filled with a dark desire, now held a chilling emptiness. the warmth of his body vanished as he stepped back, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable. he stared at you for a long, agonising moment, his eyes unreadable.

then, in a swift movement, he turned and walked out of the bathroom, leaving you pressed against the door, the memory of the heated kiss a stark contrast to the cold dread settling in your stomach.

the heat of the kiss still lingered on your lips, a confusing memory tainted by the chilling realisation of what he truly was. you cradled your neck, the phantom sensation of his sharp touch lingering long after he was gone.

days bled into a strange silence. the unsettling encounters with heeseung, once a daily occurrence, had vanished. you wouldn't normally miss his presence, but the sudden absence gnawed at you with an unsettling curiosity. you found yourself glancing down the hallway at his door more often than you cared to admit, the memory of the stolen kiss replaying in your mind in a confusing loop.

the thought of venturing to his apartment, of seeking him out after the charged encounter in the washroom, sent a jolt of nervous energy through you.

shame burned in your cheeks at the memory of the heated kiss, a stark contrast to the chilling way he'd left you. yet, a sliver of concern gnawed at you. his absence was unnerving.

finally, curiosity, laced with apprehension, won over your better judgement. you stood outside his door, heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs. taking a deep breath, you raised your hand and knocked tentatively.

the silence stretched for what felt like an eternity before the door creaked open a sliver. heeseung stood there, his face pale and drawn, dark circles smudging the area under his eyes. he looked… unwell.

"heeseung?" you ventured, surprised by the concern that slipped into your voice. "are you alright? you look terrible."

he didn't answer, just stared at you with an icy indifference that sent a shiver down your spine. the playful glint in his eyes, once so unsettling, was replaced by a hollowness that chilled you to the bone.

heeseung scoffed, a harsh sound that scraped against your nerves. "i'm fine. now leave."

the hostility in his voice stung. the concern you felt evaporated, replaced by a cold anger.

"look," you snapped, "i just came to see if you were okay. but clearly, you don't want the help."

he scoffed, a humourless sound. "of course not. why would i need help from the likes of you?"

he slammed the door shut before you could retort, leaving you standing alone in the hallway, the echo of his harsh words ringing in your ears. shame burned in your cheeks, a confusing mix of hurt and anger churning in your gut.

how dare he act like you were the villain? he was the one who made your life a living nightmare, the one with secrets that sent shivers down your spine.

scowling, you berated yourself for your momentary lapse in judgement. you hated him. you had to.

he was a danger, a monster in disguise. yet, the flicker of something vulnerable you'd glimpsed in his eyes, the way he'd pulled away so abruptly… it was a confusing puzzle you couldn't seem to solve.

heeseung stumbled out of his apartment, a desperate lurch in his gait that spoke volumes of his weakened state. he fumbled with grabbing his keys, nearly dropping them, before finally unlocking the deadbolt.

he needed to get out, anywhere but the suffocating confines of his apartment. he threw a glance down the hallway, hoping for an empty elevator, but his luck had run dry. the red "in use" light mocked him above the metal doors.

he slammed on the button, urgency pushing past the haze in his head. as the doors dinged open, revealing you standing there, his heart sank.

heeseung flinched back, shuffling into the corner like a wounded animal. "get… out," he rasped, his voice barely a whisper.

"seriously?" you scoffed, following him with your glare. "that makeout session in the club must have been rough if you can't even stand the sight of me now."

heeseung remained silent, the effort of breathing stealing his focus. you rolled your eyes, muttering under your breath about his lack of manners. you turned away, choosing to ignore him.

suddenly, the elevator lurched to a halt, plunging the cramped space into slight darkness. a metallic groan filled the air.

"great," you sighed, reaching for the call button. "looks like we're stuck."

a strained voice answered through the speaker, informing you that a technician would be on their way shortly.

"shortly?" you groaned. "how long is shortly?"

"it's hard to say, ma'am. there's been a minor fault in the system."

you groaned, sinking down onto the floor.

heeseung remained silent, his body trembling. every passing second felt like an eternity. hunger gnawed at him, a primal urge clawing its way to the surface. he gritted his teeth, fighting against the monstrous transformation that threatened to take over.

"hey," he rasped, his voice barely a whisper.

you shot him a sceptical glance. "what?"

shame burned in his throat, but the need for survival outweighed his pride. "do you… by any chance… have any blood on you?"

you leaned closer, your suspicions finally confirmed.

"about time you admitted it," you cheered, a triumphant smirk creeping across your face. "i knew you weren't normal."

heeseung let out a dark chuckle, a sound devoid of humour. "don't get too excited," he rasped. "you shouldn't be so happy about this."

"oh, come on," you scoffed. "spill it. what are you? some kind of freak?"

a tense silence followed, broken only by the hum of the faulty elevator. finally, he spoke, his voice barely a whisper.

"vampire."

shock flooded your system. it was one thing to suspect, another to hear it confirmed.

"no way," you scoffed, refusing to believe it. "vampires don't exist."

but his next words sent a shiver down your spine. "the reason i stopped you at the club… it wasn't because of the kiss. it was the smell of your blood. it was… intoxicating."

"ever since i've met you…" he began, his voice surprisingly soft despite the edge of desperation in it. "the smell of your blood, so sweet, has been driving me crazy. so different from anything i've ever encountered."

he paused, a tremor running through his voice. "for years, i've resisted feeding on humans. morality, you might call it. i rely on animal blood, a poor substitute at best. but your blood…" he took a shaky breath, "it was like a siren song. after that night, i can’t even smell any other type of blood without my stomach churning in disgust."

you listened intently, a strange fascination battling with the fear that coiled in your gut. this wasn't the heeseung you knew, the playful neighbor who reveled in teasing you. this was a creature raw and exposed, driven by a primal need he could barely articulate.

"years," he continued, his voice cracking slightly. "years of animal blood, a constant reminder of what i can't have. but then you…" he trailed off, the echo of that night in the club hanging heavy between you.

a shiver ran down your spine, but it wasn't entirely from fear. there was a vulnerability in his confession, a desperate need for something more than just sustenance.

"the challenge," he said, his voice gaining a tinge of bitterness. "the forbidden fruit. maybe that's what drew me in at first. but then…" he hesitated, a flicker of something akin to shame crossing his features.

"then what?" you prompted, your voice barely a whisper. this wasn't how you'd imagined confronting a vampire, yet here you were, drawn into his story.

"don't you see?" heeseung's voice rose, a tremor of desperation colouring it. "you make me weak, vulnerable. yet, your defiance only intensifies the pull. you're everything i shouldn't want, everything i crave."

the revelation sent a jolt through you, a terrifying mix of fear and… something else. the line between predator and prey seemed to blur in the confines of the elevator. you were trapped, yes, but there was also a strange sense of being held hostage by a creature consumed by a desire he both craved and loathed.

the silence that followed heeseung's confession stretched on, thick with a tension that was no longer just fear. you understood him, perhaps better than he understood himself.

taking a deep breath, you surprised yourself by what you said next. "maybe there’s another way."

heeseung's head snapped up, his eyes searching your face in the dim light. "what do you mean?"

"i can help" you held out your wrist, the moonlight filtering through a crack in the elevator door illuminating the delicate veins beneath your skin. "you said you needed blood. maybe i can…

he recoiled as if struck. "no. absolutely not. i won't—"

"heeseung," you interrupted, your voice firm despite the tremor in your heart. "look at me. i'm not scared. in fact…" you hesitated, a blush creeping up your neck. "maybe i… feel the same way."

the air crackled with a new kind of tension. heeseung stared at you, his face a mask of disbelief. "the same way? how?"

"like you said," you whispered, "forbidden. a dangerous attraction." you met his gaze, holding it with a newfound resolve. "if this is what you need, i… i consent."

heeseung's breath hitched. shame flickered in his eyes, quickly replaced by a raw hunger that made your own pulse quicken. "but," he said, his voice low and urgent, "i need more. much more. and from… a different place."

your stomach lurched. "different place?"

a flicker of vulnerability crossed his features. "my apologies," he murmured. "to properly sustain me, i need… the jugular."

the word hung heavy in the air, a primal request that sent a wave of apprehension through you. the image of a vampire sinking its fangs into someone's neck flashed before your eyes. but then, against your better judgment, you found yourself nodding slowly.

a surge of relief, tinged with desperation, washed over heeseung. he moved towards you, a predator closing in on its prey. the closeness brought back a memory - the night in the club bathroom, pressed against the wall, his chilly breath on your neck.

he trapped you against the corner, his body a wall of heat, completely different from the other day where he was freezing.

"please," he rasped, his voice raw with hunger and a strange, desperate plea. "i can't control myself much longer. let me…"

his voice trailed off, replaced by a whimper that both shocked and ignited something within you. this wasn't the cold, calculating heeseung you'd feared. this was a creature on the brink, his monstrous hunger battling with a threadbare shred of control.

"alright," you whispered, the word leaving your lips before you could overthink it.

he didn't hesitate. he leaned in, his movements a blur of desperation. kisses, hot and wet, rained down on your neck, each one a branding iron leaving a fiery mark. you closed your eyes, bracing yourself for the pain. but it never came.

instead, as his fangs pierced your skin, a jolt of something unexpected surged through you. it wasn't pain, but a warmth that spread through your body like liquid fire. your mind grew hazy, your senses overwhelmed by a wave of pleasure that originated from the very point of contact.

he moaned, a deep, primal sound that echoed in the confined space. "so sweet," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. "the best i've ever tasted."

he drank deeply, his body trembling with each intake. you could hear him purring, a low rumble that resonated deep within your core. the pleasure was overwhelming, a dizzying mixture of pain and pleasure that left you gasping for breath. your mind turned hazy, each noise tumbling out of his lips sounding like liquid gold to you.

when he finally pulled away, breathless and satiated, he looked at you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. he languidly licked away the remnants of blood from the wound, his warm tongue sending a jolt of electricity through you.

he didn't stop there. he swiped at the blood that trickled down your collarbone, his tongue making a suggestive swipe against your skin. a dangerous glint flickered in his eyes, and you couldn't help but lean closer, a thrill coursing through you.

the jarring hum of the elevator coming back to life jolted you both from your current position. heeseung, his fangs retracted, quickly pressed the button for your floor. a strange mixture of fear and elation bubbled in your chest, a sensation as unfamiliar as the pleasure you'd just experienced.

he turned to you, his eyes searching your face. "are you alright?" his voice was concerned, a stark contrast to his needy whines just moments ago.

you hesitantly reached for your neck, expecting a throbbing pain. instead, you found smooth, unmarked skin. a gasp escaped your lips. "it… it healed?"

heeseung nodded, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "vampire saliva," he explained casually. "has a few… interesting properties. speeds up healing, for one."

a blush crept up your cheeks as you recalled the wave of euphoria that had washed over you during his feeding. "and…" you stammered, "the pleasure?"

"speaking of pleasure," heeseung's voice dipped to a husky whisper, "vampire saliva has another... side effect."

he leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "an aphrodisiac," he breathed, his words sending a shiver down your spine. "especially potent when mixed with a good dose of desire. all thanks to those initial kisses on your neck i had planted.”

"so that's why…" you mumbled, suddenly embarrassed.

the elevator doors slid open, revealing the familiar hallway. you stepped out, feeling oddly energised despite the ordeal. a playful smile tugged at your lips.

"so," you said, turning to face him, your fingers playfully tapping his arm, "how do you plan to repay me for that little… service?"

heeseung raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. before he could answer, he leaned down, his lips brushing against your forehead in a sweet kiss. pulling away, he grinned, his fangs catching the dim light playfully.

your heart hammered in your chest as he took your hand, his touch sending a spark of heat through you. stepping closer to your apartment, he winked.

"let's discuss repayment options in private, shall we?" he said, his voice dripping with a promise of things to come.

he took your hand again, his touch surprisingly warm despite his vampiric nature. before you could respond, he gently steered you towards your apartment, leaving you breathless and caught in the undercurrent of a dangerous, exhilarating game you'd just begun to play.

as you fumbled with your keys, trying to unlock the door in hurry, he leaned down next to you and murmured, his voice a low, suggestive rumble.

"i'm sure you taste just as good everywhere else."

˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱

#౨ৎ 𝓐dy writes🪄#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen oneshots #enhypen fics #enhypen x reader #heeseung #lee heeseung #heeseung x reader #heeseung imagines #heeseung fics #heeseung oneshots #kpop fics #vampire au #enhypen vampire au #vampire!enhypen #vampire!heeseung #enhypen horror

3K notes · View notes

theosbaby · 3 months ago

Text

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ casually thinking about...

flashing mattheo during an argument

NSFW content ahead, +18

one second, he's shouting some unintelligible shit at you, and the next one, he's almost drooling at the sight of your pretty tits, naked just for him to see. he's falling silent in fucking milliseconds. but god, they're so bloody perfect... how could he not stare at them?

It's not fair, you know he loves them, and you use that knowledge against him. every. fucking. time.

he can't even remember what you were fighting about in the first place, not that he cares anymore, anyways. your full, round tits have him fucking mesmerised, the only thing in his mind at the moment being his feral need to bury his face in them and never come out again, not even for air.

"baby," he would growl, eyes not able to look away from your boobs.

you swear you can see a faint blush appear on his cheeks as you tell him, "i don't wanna fight anymore." you pout cutely at him while you're still tugging your top over your breasts, the piece of clothing it's so small that mattheo wonders how they were fitting inside it in the first place.

"me neither," he replies quietly, starting to walk towards you, not being able to stay away for a second more. "i'm sorry, a'ight?"

"it's okay... 'm sorry too," you also apologise, a little smile tugging at the corner of your plump lips as you watch him leaning forward to wrap his strong arms around you, lifting you up so your tits are right on his face.

and when he finally gets to bury his face in your glorious tits, he's not letting go. he's dragging you to his bed and dropping you in it without pulling an inch away. he lays on top of you, between your spread thighs, lips kissing your soft, pillowy flesh.

"fuck, i love these," he'd mumble against your chest, his hands squeezing your sides tightly. "so fucking perfect."

you chuckle softly at that, which makes your tits bounce slightly, and god, the sight makes him hard in seconds. he hums contently against the supple flesh of your boobs as he teasingly starts sucking and licking your tits everywhere but your nipples, alternating between the two as if he can't decide which one he wants to focus on.

his hands are roaming over your body, groping and caressing your curves as if he's re-learning them. he's squeezing your thighs, your ass, and occasionally, going up to your soft tummy, rough finger pads making goosebumps erupt in your skin.

you don't disturb him, letting him play with your boobs as he pleases while you run your slender fingers through his unruly curly hair. sometimes, you caress his face tenderly, watching with heavy lidded eyes while he worships your body. you find it cute, how much he loves your breasts. he's always wanting to touch them, lick them, kiss them... and it fucking turns you on so much, because you're so sensitive there.

you moan when finally settles on one nipple, sucking on it hard while his hand kneads the other breast. he'd push both boobs together, his mouth dropping the already hard peak he was sucking on to lick at the other. his hips are bucking against you the whole time, grinding his hard on against your drenched core.

he's definitely leaving marks, which you complain about, but he just looks up at you, pupils blown, and says, "they're mine, aren't they? i'll mark 'em if i want to."

after that, he slips his hand inside your shorts and panties, finding you completely soaked for him and that fact makes him groan as he returns to suck on your perky, reddened nipples. his fingers rub your swollen, little clit, making you whimper and squirm beneath him, but he uses his free hand to grab you and keep you still while he stuffs you full of his fingers, burying them knuckles deep. he's making you cum in minutes, orgasm so good that feels like fireworks exploding inside your tummy.

and then, once he's satisfied you, he rips both of your clothes off and makes you ride him. he'd be such a mess beneath you as he watches you jump on top of him, little whimpers escaping his lips against his will. the sight of your perfect tits bouncing right on his face while your tight little pussy squeezes his cock makes him cum so fucking fast that he's almost embarrassed... almost.

more.

#♡ ;; theosbaby #ꪆৎ casually thinking about...#harry potter #slytherin #slytherin boys #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo smut #mattheo x you #mattheoxreader #mattheo riddle scenarios #mattheo x y/n #mattheo x reader #slytherin smut #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys smut

2K notes · View notes

hellonearthtoday · 8 months ago

Text

canon is dead I rule the world. dsmp you are MINE

dsmpblrs ocs shared between the 5 (five) singular people that inhabit this fandom

I'm taking the chance to just talk about my personal dsmp au that is basically canon if you don't think about it

I don't think we as a community wrote enough about demon ctommy. he was always my favorite it just gives him this evil vibe that I think is sooo funny and I always see it in ctommy art but never in literally any fic. and that's fine but imp or whatever-he-is-Tommy will always be real in my heart. in my head he used to be a bird hybrid, but when he died for what was supposed to be the final time they took his fucking wings and gave him cunty demon horns and tail. Death made him emo. for the sake of this narrative his wings used to be white too. Pair this with religious ctommy and you get peak

ctubbo. I think about him a lot. I think personally he wears armor under his coat. You'd think it start to get hot under there, and it does. his solution is to just Never leave the Arctic.

At some point he started developing resting bitch face, because it used to just be resting (autistic face of neutrality) but now he kind of just looks tired all the time. Not like Tommy's rbf where he looks like he's kinda pissed and has a headache 24/7. but at least they're semi matching now. bff's!!! (?) I can't write too much about ctubbo because my cutbbo is like 20 billion contradictions stacked on itself. he's not as simple as my ctommy.

He doesn't wear the red bandana anymore but he can't tell you why and he's not insecure about the scar on his face but he's not proud of it either. I FORGOT TO DRAW CRANBOO AND HIS WEDDING RINGS IM AN ANTI WHAT THE HELLL okay ignoring that blunder, their wedding rings are meant to be on their horns 💔 you can't fucking see cranboos singular (1) horn because it's out of frame, they're too tall.

SPEAKONG OF CRANBOO!!!! snakes in his hair because Hahhaa hattte eye contact????? Medusa???? get it guys get it do you guys get jut

The snakes talk to him. Take that as you will. He's a chronic suit wearer and will literally not wear anything else unless it's under or over the suit. he would like to never try anything new ever he needs this constant in his life or everything will fall apart and the world will end. He knows how to kit up and wear armor but just as a joke he wears random bits of armor in places he literally needs it least. as a fashion statement. Tommy doesn't wear any armor usually bcz who gaf he's not doing that shit

in my perfect world the egg plot in dsmp actually got used better and becsme more than a background plot. it could've been everything. anyway my dsmp au is egg war las Nevadas craziness and I'm right goodnight

3K notes · View notes

neoanedotheart · 3 months ago

Text

Lazy thing i wanted to do!!! they're just silly :3

I think dave is a pretty princess and John is awkward

I'll be yapping below

I believe that Dave texts John right after he gets his ass handed to him DAILY. It usually plays out like this where they banter and Dave never really goes through the extent of explaining what thoroughly happens to him so John lives in forever ignorant bliss. And this leads Dave to feel like there's more of disconnect because he first of all doesn't really know how to articulate his feelings and second abuse doesn't seem like abuse to the victim. So he goes about everyday unknowingly yearning to be saved by someone greater than him, which is why I put the snow white reference at the end hehe.

Snow white as a fairy tale is extremely cliche, you got the prince in shining armor showing up conveniently on a horse and saving the girl. There's always this hierarchy placed upon the story where the damsel in distress is saved by a man, that man being portrayed as a greater being.

And with John taking place as the prince in this context paints him as this greater being. And I feel like a part of Dave envies and despises John for being this way, for being "perfect" or in a way. Greater than him.

The thing is in the original snow white story she's unconscious, that's undesirable. But it adds to the desperation of wanting to be saved, shining a better looking light on a person who isn't really there for reasons you want them to be. However John is a sincere person, it's more so the lack of communication or true understanding of one another that leads to this rift, this belief that John isn't there for Dave because he loves him, but because he's his friend and it's John's duty as a friend to save him. Which also brings me to the last line where Dave never corrects himself, and how he insinuates that he'll be unconscious due to being placed in a glass coffin much like snow white was when she was poisoned. He's at this stage where he doesn't want to be saved by an outer source, a greater person than him. He wants to be saved by himself he wants to prove worthy, but then conflicting within his mind is also this idea he isn't good enough to. We all know that Dave believes he isn't a hero and explicitly states John is the hero multiple times throughout homestuck. So he stays waiting.

John however, refers to Dave as Cinderella, Cinderella gets abused and put through plenty of torture from her step sisters and is saved through marriage of some person she just met. There's still this base line of being saved by man however there's this more mutual understanding of what they're getting into, a similar yearn for one another. Though he never caught her name he was still willing to find her, the real her. Which is John in this case, he probably understands he's missing something in the big picture but can never find out what and the best he can do is hope that the other half still held on to what they once were and was willing to share.

This is a pre-sburb interaction btw they're just unknowingly foreshadowing a shit ton.

Sorry if there's like bad shitty writing in here, I'm rambling and it's like almost midnight hehe

#art #digital art #fanart #shitpost #homestuck #dave strider #john egbert #johndave #short comic

2K notes · View notes

ddejavvu · 2 months ago

Note

mean!logan noticing you’re obsessed with his biceps so he makes you use them to get off one day >:)))

Greed - Logan Howlett x Reader

send me mean!logan requests!

contents/warnings: mean!logan, degradation, arm/bicep fucking, strength/power imbalance, don't like don't read

thank you to @hanasnx for helping me workshop some possible positions, even if mine differs slightly from indy's 2 examples i had to consult the arm kink professional for guidance

"'Wish you'd speak up for yourself," Logan grunts one day, voice free of criticism but scrutinizing all the same, "Would be a hell of a lot easier to get you off."

"What?" You blink bewilderedly at him, watching as he slings a wife beater over his head, the white fabric barely stretching to cover his broad chest.

"Every time I flex my arms in front of you, you get all crazy. You never say it," Logan stands at the foot of the bed, watching as you squirm, "But I always smell it."

"Your arms are nice." You supply weakly, throat suddenly dry and hollow, "I like them."

"I know." Logan laughs, a huff that's not mean but might as well be for the way it mortifies you, "Like I said, I can tell. But you never say anything, honey. Why's that?"

You detest the way his attention is fixated solely on you. It makes you writhe in your seat, it makes an ache throb between your legs while your brain desperately grasps at straws to figure out what to say.

"I dunno," Is the brilliant response you land on, and his chest rocks with a silent scoff.

"I know why," He prods, crossing his arms. The arms that you can't stop thinking about. "You think talking about what you like is dirty, and you think you're oh-so-pure. But I can smell you- you smell filthy. You're no saint. I've had you choking on my cock before, you're not fooling me. So what do you want?"

Your eyes fall to his arms without any thought behind the motion. He notices, of course, because he's studying you for any miniscule reaction.

"That's not enough." Logan growls, frustration tinging his gruff voice, and you're sure he's smelling the growing arousal between your thighs, "I said tell me."

"I- I want..." You falter, the words on the tip of your tongue but more raunchy than you'd ever be brave enough to voice.

"If you can't ask for it, you're not getting it." Logan decides, the muscles in his biceps flexing as he tightens the way they're crossed against his chest.

You consider abandoning ship. Seceding into silence, and letting Logan down as well as yourself. Taking the safe route.

But you're throbbing. You're aching, Logan's scrutiny combined with the look of his flexed arms is sending you into overdrive, and there's a steady heartbeat between your thighs that's begging for attention. It works the same way booze does, emboldening you, and you blurt out with courage never-before-seen, "I want to ride your arms."

He looks half impressed that you'd said anything at all, and half stunned that you'd said that much, that plainly.

His brows raise, bushy and angled to create a perfect arch.

"Wow. Pretty nasty stuff." He muses, faux-considerate as if he hadn't demanded a voice from you. Still, he doesn't move- so why had he asked?

You shift gently in your seat, but his eyes track your every move like a hunter.

"Well," He lingers in place, arms still crossed, the perfect eye-candy for you, "You gonna say please, or what?"

"Please," You blurt with burning cheeks, and he snickers at your eagerness.

"See? You're not so sweet." He advances, arms coming uncrossed to brace his weight on the bed, meaning thick cords of muscle strain against the confines of his skin, showcased as he crawls towards you, "You couldn't even remember to say please, just demanded to get off on me like I'm some toy."

"Logan, that's not-"

"Inconsiderate." He decides, eyes on your body instead of your face as he scans over your thinly-clad chest, "You're only in it for the sex, aren't you, you little minx?"

"Stop." You plead, feeling as dirty as his words imply. You're not- Logan is the love of your life, but you won't pretend you hate sex with him. But he's making you feel so dirty, like a fiend who wants nothing but his dick.

His hand trails between your thighs but it's different this time, and his fingers toy with your clit only as a prerequisite. You let him open you up, you let his fingers ease your muscles looser as his mouth eases your own loose. His tongue dips inside and licks you into submission, your brain activity lowering the more he kisses you. He soon snakes his arm between your legs, offering you up your real prize: the thick, muscular width of his bicep.

It's an awkward angle, you won't lie. But squeezing your thighs around his arm presses delicious friction against your clit, and the rocking of your hips is an instinct more than it is a thought-out motion.

Logan rests on his stomach on the bed, his arm stretched out in front of him to provide your seat. It means he has to crane upwards to see you, and you thank his supernatural strength for the way that he doesn't break a sweat as you rub yourself wantonly on his arm. His face is not exactly at your own level, which means you can't kiss him silly like you want to. But craning his neck upwards means that his face lands between your tits, and you feel the rough burn of his scruff against your skin as he nestles into your warm skin.

Logan is, perhaps, the ideal individual to suit your cravings for arm muscles. Not only does he have the perfect build, but his increased strength means that he's able to bare his bicep for you to get off on, even lifting it off of the bed to offer you increased friction. Perhaps a normal man would tire in seconds, but Logan- Logan could hold on longer than you.

Grinding against the plentiful mass of muscle in his bicep means that you're rutting up against him, and you have to spread your legs as far apart as possible to ensure that your cunt is met with the already-slickened surface of Logan's bare arm. You're making a mess despite still being in your pajamas, because the shorts you'd been sleeping in offer very little fabric to defend Logan's skin from your copious arousal.

Logan nips at a spot on your left breast, humming gruffly into your chest as you gasp slightly at the intrusion. It breaks your concentration and you have to grip harder at the sheets to fall back into your laborious rhythm.

"Not easy, hm? You've gotta work for it," Logan grunts, mouth moving against your chest as he takes a nipple into his mouth, "Nasty girl, 's a real workout to fuck this dirty, isn't it?"

"Logan, I- I'm not dirty," You whimper, tears beading in your eyes at his gruff accusations, "I'm not."

His laugh is more of a bark than anything, and he ducks his head away from your chest to point with his chin at the mess you're making on his arm.

"That's not dirty? You're dripping- you're making a real mess'a my arm, sweetheart. Dirty little cunt's drooling all over me."

The image of your slick coating Logan's arm, glistening against his muscles throws your pleasure into overdrive. Your orgasm rapidly approaches, the memory of his fingers inside of you only minutes before making up completely for the lack of penetration you get from his bicep. You squeeze your thighs even tighter around Logan's arm, pinning it to your cunt with an almost painful force as you hump against it desperately.

"You're fucking filthy." Logan hisses against your tits, taking one in between his teeth and biting, hard, "Humping my arm like a damn dog. Feel good, honey? Feel how strong I am?"

He flexes harder, tenses his muscles just that much more, and you feel them stiffen impossibly harder beneath your pussy. It's that and the way he mouths at your tits, growling such indecent accusations into their flushed warmth that sends you over the edge, a feeble cry escaping your lips as your hips begin trembling, twitching as you grind against his arm impossibly faster to fulfil your orgasm.

You're sure the bedsheets have suffered your release as much as Logan's arm has, but he's never seriously chided you for making a mess, and you're sure he won't this time. He groans himself as you ride through your orgasm on his arm and you realize only now as you come down from your high that he's been rutting against the mattress, cock still trapped in the confines of his sweatpants. If he hasn't managed to get off on the mattress you'll help him now, granting him access to all the slick warmth that his arm provided.

Now the pressure of his bicep is overstimulating as it presses constantly against your cunt and you ease off of it, giving Logan a prime view of your ruined, sensitive cunt as you whine at the sensitivity.

"Impressive," He hums, "Never thought I'd have you rubbing all over my arm like that."

"It's really strong. You're- you're really strong, Logan, it's nice."

"Yeah?" He grins, more of a smirk perhaps, as something sharp invades his eyes, "All that muscle gets you going? Knowing I'm stronger than you?"

"You are," Your breath shudders as you let it out, and he pushes up on his arms, one still covered in your slick release. He seems suddenly intent on showcasing that strength difference, muscles bulging as he crawls across the mattress to slot himself on top of your fucked-out form.

"I am." He agrees, mouth pressing hungrily to yours as the same arm you'd just got off on curls around your back and cements you to him, his hips already rutting against your own, "Wanna find out how much stronger I am?"

"Yes. Logan, yes, I-" He seizes your mouth in another kiss, cutting off your desperate pleas.

"Fucking try to move." He grunts, almost a growl with how guttural and gruff it sounds against the hollow of your parted lips as his other hand holds your hip firmly, almost crushingly in place, "I'll pin you down 'n hold you still, greedy girl."

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett fluff #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x you #logan howlett blurb #logan howlett drabble #logan howlett oneshot #wolverine x reader #wolverine imagine #wolverine smut

1K notes · View notes