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oh-thats-what-it-is · 1 year ago

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Jess Mariano SMUT: The best friend and the boyfriend.

POV: Your best friend Rory always gets what she wants as the town’s golden girl. Well, you have had enough and its time you get what you want.

WARNINGS: 18+ (minors dni); cheating; rory slander; lorelai slander; p in v intercourse; dirty talk; unprotected sex; light choking - i think that is it

AUTHOR’S NOTE: wasn’t enough jess smut for me on here. Wanna fix that! first time writing anything so please be gentle. 2k+ words

You’re at Luke’s diner trying to get some work done before your exam tomorrow. The wetness inbetween your legs was proving a great distraction to the task at hand. You had to muster every ounce of concentration to listen to what Lane and Rory were saying. The three of you were finishing up your group project for school. You had all been friends for years, but recently you had found it hard to be yourself around them.

The reason for that, was standing behind the counter, serving customers with a surly look and a quippy comment if he spoke at all. Jess.

The whole town knew about him and Rory. How could they not? Stars’ Hollows’ golden girl drew attention wherever she went. Her and Dean’s romance had been the talk of the town - the stuff of young love! And she could do no wrong. Even after she dragged Dean through hell and back with her indecisiveness before ultimately bringing him to breaking point - people still loved her.

And hey - you did too. She was your best friend. But you couldn't help but roll your eyes at the way the town fawned over her. Even though it had been happening your whole lives. Rory and her busybody, try-hard mother were the apple of the town’s eyes. And you were used to it.

But you had been surprised that Jess had fallen for it. When he arrived in town, a sullen and brooding figure, you had immediately felt drawn to him. You could sense his angst. You could feel it vibrating off of him. And lets not pretend like he wasn’t a total smokeshow. He looked like a man.

If only Lorelai and Luke weren’t so close. Then you might have gotten your chance. But as fate had it, and as it always seemed to, Rory got in there first. Lorelai invited Luke and Jess over for a welcome dinner, and he instantly became smitten with Rory’s mild manner. It only took a matter of months - and a breaking of one Dean Forrestor’s heart - until they became an item.

At first it was all rosy. Rory wouldn’t shut up about it. But you could tell. Something wasn’t quite right. Two months passed and Rory would go red every time Jess was brought up, or came to sit with your group at lunch. You asked Rory - genuinely as a friend. She would just mumble and divert the subject. Lane also pressed, but there was no budging Miss Gilmore.

It was only a month ago when you cottoned on to what the problem was. You had been wearing jeans that hugged your ass, and a top that teased just enough of your cleavage to make anyone blush. You bumped into Jess in the hallway at school. As in, physically bumped into him, as he came around the corner. He grabbed onto you out of instinct to apologise.

“Oh hi Y/N. What are you….” His eyes trailed down to your chest. You didn’t notice at first. You thought he was dazed by the surprise interaction.

“Just on my way to Spanish. Señora Castilla is making us do a book report - I’m doing 100 years of Solitude.”

“Hmm” he responded. “That’s one of my favourites. Magical realism, love, scandal - “

And then you clock. His eyes are on your tits. His hand is still on you. On the small of your back.

This man is hungry. He hasn’t been laid or anything of the sort in a while. Or at least since he has been with Rory. Jess wants you. You avert your gaze.

“Jess. I have to go.”

He moved his hand lower, testing the waters. You don’t remove it. You inhaled, trying to retain your morals. You remind yourself: We’re in the middle of the hallway. At school. He is Rory’s boyfriend. Rory is my best friend.

You repeated these over and over to yourself like a mantra, willing yourself to move. After what seems like an eternity, he whispers in your ear: “My car. 10 minutes,” and sauntered away.

And that was how it began. A whole month of some of the steamiest makeout sessions, hottest sex, and best orgasms of your life. Did the secrecy turn you on? Maybe. Did you feel bad for Rory? Perhaps. But were those moments with Jess worth it? Absolutely.

You had to be careful. Not just to avoid Rory and Lane. But Luke couldn’t know either. If he did, he would have gone straight to Lorelai and it would have been a whole thing. It wasn’t worth it. So the two of you would sneak in quickies in his car, behind Miss Patty’s studio, in the AV room at school etc.

But Luke was out tonight. Doing something for Lorelai probably. Who knows. Jess had suggested the two of you take advantage of the situation. He had recently acquired his own room at Luke’s, ever since his uncle had knocked a hole in the wall for him. It wasn’t much, but you couldn’t wait to share a bed with him, and take your sweet time worshipping his body.

“Okay Y/N, we’re off. You coming?” Asked Lane.

“Nah, I have a bunch more work to do for my college application. I will see you both tomorrow?”

Rory went over to give Jess a kiss goodbye. You couldn’t help but smirk as you saw him looking at you as she kissed his cheek. The two girls waved goodbye and left the cafe.

The minute they left, Jess pounced on your table. He summoned Cesar to take over his shift and close up.

“Cmon baby” he whispered, taking care not make it look obvious to the other customers what was going on.

You and Jess went up the stairs silently but quickly. The minute you reached the top flight and opened the door into the living quarters, Jess slammed the door shut and pressed you against it.

“Do you know how bad you are? Sitting right next to my girlfriend and giving me those ‘fuck me’ eyes all night? It was all i could do not to take you on the table right there.”

His forehead was against yours, his hands cradling your face. All you could see was him. All you could feel was him.

“Such a good boy for restraining yourself,” you cooed, trying lure him into making the first move. Each time you were together, it still felt like new. A game of chicken. Who would break first? Fresh and dangerous, yet familiar and comforting all at once. “It must have been so hard for you” you said, moving your hand towards his crotch. “Show me how much you want me” you dared.

It was too much for him. He growled and leant in to kiss you with everything he had. He was messy and sloppy with need. His teeth clashed against yours. You moaned with need. Your hands wandered to your waist, dipping under your trousers, then your panties. You started playing with your clit and panting his name back into his mouth.

You were still against the door. Jess moved his hands under your shirt, finding the valley of your chest easily as you hadn’t worn a bra today.

“Fuck” he said, breaking the kiss. “You had your tits out all day baby girl? You are such a slut, wanting everyone to notice.”

Before you could begin to formulate a reply, his mouth was on your left nipple. You sighed as he sucking with such fervour. Just as you got used to the sensation enough to say something witty to him, he bit down hard. You yelped - this was a new move from him. He obviously felt emboldened by the new setting, being in his own territory and out of a car.

Jess went to your right nipple, sucking and making the most obscene slurping noise and his hand went to your other tit. It was too much. It felt too good. You started playing with your clit with even more until he finally noticed.

“That’s my job Y/N. Its not like you to be so selfish!“ he scolded. He grabbed both your wrists and pressed himself into you, letting you feel his bulge. You whimpered at the loss of your fingers inside your wet cunt and pouted at him. He brought your fingers to your mouth.

“Suck” he said, with a devious glint in his eyes. Like a fucking wet wipe, you did as he said. You were embarrassed at first, but didn’t care. You would do anything he said at this point.

When he was satisfied you had fully cleaned your fingers, he took them out your mouth and kissed you hard and hungrily on the lips.

You saw you opportunity to the turn the tables, to take power. “Jess?” You asked innocently.

“Hmm?” He responded, trailing kisses down your neck.

“The whole point of tonight is that we have a bed for once. Let’s make the most of it.” You pushed him off you and took his hand. You walked past the door to his bedroom. He stopped you and looked at you confused.

“Oh Jess. I don’t wanna be fucked in your single bed. I want to feel all of you” you whispered in his ear, guiding him to Luke’s room and king-sized bed.

His eyes widened with realisation and need. Was this a bad idea? Almost certainly. Did he care? At this point, not even wild horses could stop him from having you. He would do anything you said. And he had to admit, there was something hot about doing it somewhere he shouldn’t.

You pushed Jess onto Luke’s bed, unzipped his jeans and pulled down his boxers. His cock sprung up immediately. It was red, throbbing and angry. You couldn’t help but drool. Jess saw this and smirked. He knew what he did to you. He pulled off his shirt, knowing it would drive you crazy.

You dived onto his cock, unable to wait any longer. You took all of him in his mouth, as he held your head there. His pubic hair tickled your nose. You stayed there for as long as possible, until your eyes watered. You took your head off, wiped your mouth, and then began bobbing up and down slowly.

Jess propped himself up on his elbows, watching you like a hawk. His tongue was sticking out as he concentrated his breathing to stop himself from blowing his load. His dark curls were pressed wet against his forehead as beads of sweat started to roll down his face.

You moved to his balls, gently sucking them into your mouth while your hand moved up and down on his rock hard member. He started moaning and rocked his hips into your hands, desperate for more.

You had him right where you wanted him. You removed yourself from him completely and clambered to sit on top of him. His cock was nestled in your folds. So close to where he wanted to be. So close to where you wanted him to be. But you decided the chase was more fun. You lowered yourself down, so that your tits were pressed against his chest.

You whispered “Can Rory make you feel this way, Jess? Does she drive you wild like I do? Can she make you moan like a bitch the way I can? Has she ever made your cock this hard?” You punctuated each sentence with a nip on his ear.

“Fuck you,” he replied, grabbing your ass and turning you onto your back so that he was on top. He pushed himself into you and started fucking you with no mercy.

Your tits were bouncing with every thrust and you were whimpering with need every time he pulled out. You snaked your arms around his back, pulling him deeper into you. You didn’t want any space between you.

“You’re such a whore Y/N. Fucking your best friend’s boyfriend. I can’t believe it turns you on so much.”

You moaned at this words, unable to deny the appeal of the whole situation.

“Fuck baby, I can feel your cunt clenching around me as i say that! You are a fucking whore Y/N, squeezing me with your greedy pussy. Such a bad fucking girl.” Jess yelps, spanking your ass.

“I am a whore Jessy, your whore, only for you” you cried, embarrassed by your pathetic display. He grinned as you used the nickname you only brought out for him when you were cock drunk beyond belief. You groaned inwardly as you couldn’t believe you had given him the satisfaction of that ego boost.

You were lost completely in Jess. He moved his hand down to your core, adding a finger into your weeping pussy, and using his thumb to toy with your clit. It was bliss.

“Jessy?” You called out.

“Hmm?” He groaned in response.

“I want you to cum inside me” you begged.

His eyes widened as a wild look came over him. Without missing a beat, he swung your legs over his shoulders and bent you in two as he fucked into you harder than before. His hand moved to your throat, gently choking you. You stuck your tongue out like a dog in heat - animalistic and beyond a care as to what was normal.

The bed’s headboard was hitting the wall with every thrust from Jess’ pelvis, sure to cause a suspect dent tomorrow. But neither of you could have given a single fuck as the you both chased your highs. The sound of skin slapping, moans and gasps were obscene.

“Jess, have you seen Luke’s toolbox? We need it and he said it might be - Oh my god!”

You both froze and turned to the door. Lorelai was face to face with you and Jess butt naked on Luke’s bed. Sorry - lets rephrase that. Lorelai walked in on her daughter’s boyfriend and best friend fucking raw on Luke’s bed.

She narrowed her eyes and hissed: “Get the fuck out.”

#jess mariano #gilmore girls #milo ventimiglia #gilmore girls smut #jess mariano smut #literati #lorelai gilmore #jess x reader #jess mariano x reader #jess mariano x y/n #jess mariano imagine #jess imagine #gilmore girls imagine

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achilles-rage · 4 months ago

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All Yours

summary: you go to a frat party with your longtime boyfriend buck, but when you see a girl flirting with him, you get jealous. you leave early, and buck begs to make it up to you.

word count: 3.4k

request: anon- down bad kinda sub(?) frat boy evan buckley. like, established relationship, they've been together since high school; but someone was flirting with buck and reader saw it so she takes him back to her apartment and he like gets down to his knees and like begs with his eyes to please her or whatever :) and feel free to take this in your own direction!! this is just an idea :)

a/n: dear god, whoever requested this i'm gonna kiss you on the lips. this has me FERAL and i love sub buck a little more than i thought i would. this reminds me so much of good luck charm and i had to go back and change all the evan's to buck's because i'm so used to using evan in good luck charm lmao (read good luck charm if you haven't pls i promise it's a good time). also, just a reminder than buck is the only man ever<33 enjoy<3

warnings: smut, barely edited (oops), college fratboy!buck, sub!buck, no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

Your face scrunches up as you walk over the threshold of the frat house, the smell of beer and sweat filling your senses and making you feel dizzy.

It’s not your first party. Far from it. You’ve been in this house many times; during parties, and when it’s just the members. You can’t even count how many times you’ve woken up in one of the rooms, a strong arm wrapped around your thick middle as hot breath hits the back of your neck.

You’ve been to many parties with him, too, not even just college parties. You’ve been dating Buck since high school, and with him being on the football team in high school too, parties were something he was always dragging you to. Not that you minded.

“Wanna show off my girl.” he’d tell you. And you couldn’t do anything else but agree; not when he’s looking at you with those big blue eyes, a small pout on his lips.

Even with being so used to parties, and having Buck by your side the entire time, you don’t think you’ll ever get used to the first few moments when you step into the party. It’s so loud, and the smell of beer almost burns your nostrils as you try to maneuver through a sea of drunk people, just waiting for someone to get too close and spill beer all over your shirt. You learned early that wearing black was always the best option when you’re here.

You make your way through the crowd with Buck, watching him greet his teammates and other friends and laughing as they call him whipped for walking to your house to pick you up. He brushes them off. Tells them that he has to. That it’s his girl that he’s got to keep safe.

All of his friends have seen how he is around you, and while he tried to hide it during the first few weeks of college, it’s your last year, and it’s very clear to everyone that you’re his world. And they’ve stopped teasing him about it. For the most part.

You finally find a group of his friends and their girlfriends standing around between the living room and the kitchen, and you stop there, beers in hand as you both fall into conversation with them.

Buck talks to his teammates while you talk to a couple of their girlfriends that you’ve grown quite close to. Buck keeps an arm over your shoulders, keeping you close. He likes to have you near him all the time; he’s seen the way some guys here look at you, and while he knows you won’t do anything about it, as you’ve been together for over 5 years and have yet to have a problem, it’s the guys he doesn’t trust.

“We’re gonna go get more drinks. You want another beer?” you ask him over the noise around you, standing up on your toes and practically yelling into his ear.

He smiles, looking down at the sight of you on your toes as he licks his lips.

“Have I told you how pretty you look today?” he asks over the music. You feel your already hot cheeks heat up even more, and you laugh softly.

“Yeah, a couple times.” you tell him, rolling your eyes. More like 10, at least. “You want a refill?”

“Yeah, if you’re going. Thank you, baby.” You nod, then put two fingers on his cheek, making you face him again as he holds his mouth near your ear. You give him a quick peck, then lower back down and turn to walk towards the kitchen with the girls.

You whirl your head back around when you feel a hand smack your ass, a tight-lipped smile forcing its way onto your face as you pretend to be mad. Buck raises his hands up in surrender, shrugging as he looks at you with an innocent expression. You roll your eyes, blowing him a kiss over your shoulder, and you see him pretend to catch it just before you turn back to face the kitchen.

You stand with the girls in the kitchen, stopping to talk to some other people you know before you get your refills. One of your friends is ranting very loudly about her boyfriend, one of Buck’s best friends, and you’re all listening intently. Their relationship is very on-again, off-again, and you can’t help but roll your eyes at her words. You got so lucky with Buck, you think.

Your conversation is cut short when her eyes widen, and she ducks behind you. All you hear is something sounding like a mumbled “he’s right there!” before she speed walks out of the kitchen and into the living room. You laugh with the other girls, and then grab your refills before making your way back to your boyfriends.

You stop in your tracks, however, when you’re met with the sight of Buck standing very closely to a pretty brunette. She laughs loudly at something he says, and everything around you disappears as your focus remains solely on the sight unfolding in front of you.

You frown as you see him smiling down at her, his head leaned down just slightly in order to hear her.

Buck is just trying to be polite, of course. He knew exactly what was happening as soon as she made her way over, stumbling slightly and almost crashing into him when she was finally right in front of him.

He talks with her, not wanting to seem rude, but his mind is completely focused on you. His eyes widen in surprise when she stands up on her toes and grabs the back of his neck, pulling his ear down to her mouth to speak to him over the loud music and chatter around them.

You can’t see his face when she puts his hand to the back of his neck; her head completely blocking your sight of his very clearly uncomfortable expression. All you see is his hand going to her waist. Your jaw clenches, and it’s like a car crash; it makes you sick, but you can’t tear your eyes away.

In your jealous haze, you don’t process the fact that she’s clearly stumbling around, and Buck’s hand on her waist seems to be the only thing keeping her from falling over completely.

His eyes scan the room for you as she keeps talking, barely listening as he looks out for you. He wants you back here right now; he wants to show this girl that he’s taken. By you.

He doesn’t see you though. And when he finally leans down and tells her that he’s happily taken, she pouts, mumbling a slurred “of course you are” before she walks away. He lets out a sigh of relief, and a minute later, he smiles widely when he sees you crossing the room back to him.

He grunts when you practically shove his beer at him, his smile disappearing. He’s quick to grab the cup, and his brows furrow when he sees you ignoring his presence, keeping your eyes on some of the girls you were with.

“You okay, baby?” he asks, whispering into your ear as he wraps an arm around you and rests his hand on your hip. You shrug, your body rigid as he pulls you closer to him. You know you’re being a little overdramatic; you’re sure the girl walked away pouting because Buck told her that he was taken, but you’re too jealous to listen to the voice of reason in your head.

“Perfect.” you reply shortly, your jaw clenched as you keep your eyes straight ahead of you. He keeps his eyes on you, and when you don’t even bother looking at him, he squeezes your hip, hoping it’ll get your attention.

“Hey, what’s up?” Are you mad at me?” he asks desperately. He hates when you’re mad at him. He doesn’t see it often, at least, not real anger. You’ve argued over silly things, of course, and he’s not unused to seeing how you get when you’re hangry, but it’s not very often you have actual fights.

“Do I have a reason to be mad at you?” you reply coldly, finally turning your head to look up at him with a raised brow. You’re glad the girls have noticed your anger, and have turned to talk to each other.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.” Buck says, his brows furrowed in confusion. He doesn’t even think of that girl earlier; he barely even paid attention to her. He couldn’t tell you a single thing about her. He was too focused on you coming back to him.

“Then why would I be mad at you?” you reply, although your tone tells him that you’re clearly mad at him.

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you.” Your sweet boy, always the voice of reason. He’s always eager to talk things out; he never wants things to grow into a bigger problem. Usually, you love it, but right now, it’s making you even more upset.

“Do you wanna go somewhere and talk?” he asks when you don’t answer right away. You huff, shaking your head, then turn your attention back to the girls who aren’t even facing you anymore.

“Not particularly.” you reply shortly. He huffs, grabbing your forearm gently and turning you to face him. He’s had enough of this. He just wants you to talk to him.

“Come on, baby. Can we go talk, please?” he asks, desperation in his eyes. He’s driving you insane right now; pretending not to know what you’re upset about.

“Do we have to? I thought you wanted to enjoy the party? I wouldn’t wanna stop you from that.” you reply in a mocking tone, crossing your arms over your chest as you finally face him.

“Baby, please. You know I want to be with you tonight. Please talk to me.” You groan, finally snapping and grabbing his wrist, beginning to pull him out of the house and towards your house. He drops his cup on a table haphazardly as he passes by it, eyes focused on you.

He stays quiet as you pull him in the direction of your house, waiting for a minute before he speaks in a hushed tone, wary of the people walking past you two on the sidewalk.

“So? What’s up?” You shake your head, continuing to walk. You don’t want to argue with him in the middle of the sidewalk.

He huffs, but keeps following you all the way to your house. When you’re finally in your room, the house eerily silent with your roommate still at the party, you finally turn to face him with your arms crossed over your chest.

“Are you gonna explain why you’re so mad at me now?” he asks, trying desperately to keep the distance you’ve put between the two of you. You scoff, rolling your eyes.

“You’re really gonna keep playing dumb?” you ask angrily, narrowing your eyes at him. His eyes widen, and he tilts his head to the side, trying to think of a reason for your feelings.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, baby. Really. Just, please tell me why you’re upset.” he pleads, his voice softening. He wants nothing more than to see your pretty smile again, and he hates that he’s the reason for your frown.

“You were flirting with that girl! And don’t act like you weren’t because I saw you.” you seethe. Deep down, you know he’d never do that, but your jealousy is getting the best of you. His eyes widen further, and he shakes his head and stutters as he tries to come up with a reply. He’s taken back by your accusation. He would never do that. He has you. His sweet girl.

“I wasn’t flirting with her! She came up to me and was flirting with me, and I was trying to be polite. Is that really why you’re mad? Baby, you know I only want you.” His voice gets softer as he speaks, and he takes a step forward, desperate to touch you.

“It sure didn’t look like you were just being polite. You touched her.” you snap, jaw clenched as he takes a step forward.

“She was drunk; she was stumbling around. I was keeping her steady so she didn’t fall over. Come on, baby, you know I only want you.” he pleads, crossing the distance, reaching a hand out to you. You shake your head, taking a step back before you turn and walk towards your bed.

You sit on the edge of your bed, putting your head in your hands. You know he’s right. His reassurances are slowly helping, but you’re still angry. He’s yours, and you don’t want to share. Ever.

“Baby, please. You know I wouldn’t do that to you.” he whispers, kneeling down in front of you, trying to meet your eyes as they remain focused on the floor.

“I know you wouldn’t. But I know what I saw.” you reply in a softer voice. You don’t want to argue anymore. You’re tired. But even so, your hair is standing on end, and you can feel your teeth grinding.

“You saw me keeping her from falling. Yes, she was flirting with me, but I didn’t reciprocate.” he explains, putting his hands on the top of your legging-clad thighs. You bite your lip, finally looking up at him.

“What can I do, baby? Let me show you that you’re the only one I want. Please.” he practically begs, his hands slowly moving up your thick thighs. You let out a shaky sigh, feeling goosebumps erupt on your skin from his touch, even through your leggings.

“How are you gonna do that?” you ask softly, your heartbeat quickening as you sit up straighter and lean back on your hands.

“Let me show you, baby. Let me make you feel good. Show you how much I love you.” You bite your lip, a smirk coming onto your face at his desperate expression. You’re still angry, but it’s being clouded over by the sheer power you feel as you take in your boyfriend on his knees, begging to please you.

“Can I?” he asks, his voice almost a whimper as his fingers dance across the waistband of your leggings.

“You better.” you reply in a slightly mocking tone. He smiles, tugging on your leggings eagerly. You lift your hips and let him pull your leggings and panties down in one go.

“Yes ma’am.” he whispers with a hint of a smirk, beginning to press feather light kisses up your inner thighs. As soon as his lips touch your thighs, he lets out a desperate moan, his smirk long gone as he looks up at you with desperate eyes.

“God, I love you so much, baby. Love your pretty body.” he murmurs against your skin, working his way up your thighs to your core.

You bite your lip as he kisses you, and you move one of your hands to his hair, slowly pushing it back.

“You gonna show me, baby?” you ask in a sweet tone, although there’s a hint of condescension in your tone. Buck groans, nodding, and he can feel his dick twitching in his pants at your tone.

“Yeah, baby. I’m gonna show you. I’ll do anything you want.” he tells you eagerly, now dangerously close to your dripping centre.

“You know what to do.” you tell him, a smirk on your face as you hold eye contact with him. He wastes no time in pushing your legs even further apart, and wrapping his arms around your thighs. He lowers his mouth to your cunt, licking a firm strip up your folds before nuzzling into your heat, sucking and lapping eagerly.

You bite your lip, letting out a shaky sigh as you grip his hair tightly. He’s always eager to use his mouth on you, but now, you think he’ll have you seeing stars in record time.

“I’m all yours, baby. My sweet girl. God, you taste like heaven.” he murmurs against you, groaning. He darts his tongue into your cunt, using his nose to nudge at your clit, and you moan, tilting your head back and pushing his head further against you.

“Yeah? You’re all mine?” you ask shakily, and he nods eagerly, moaning.

“All yours. I only want you, baby.” he whimpers, taking his mouth away from you just long enough to speak before he’s diving back in, circling his tongue around your clit.

“Is that good, baby? Is this what you wanted?” you ask in a condescending tone when you feel his actions quicken slightly, his fingers digging into the fat of your thighs.

“So good, baby. I love making you feel good. Taste so good.” he mumbles, although you can barely understand him as he keeps his head burrowed between your legs.

“Yeah? Just me? Or would you rather that girl at the party?” you ask sarcastically. He growls, his teeth grazing your clit as he looks up at you. You gasp, your grip tightening on his hair as you let out a soft laugh at his unimpressed reaction.

“Only you, baby. She’s nothing compared to you. So pretty.” he tells you, his eyes glancing down at your glistening folds as he speaks.

“Good answer. Now, are you gonna make me come, or am I not gonna let you touch me for a whole week?” you ask in a stern tone, licking your lips as he whimpers.

“God. Please, baby. Wanna make you come, please.” he murmurs, taking his mouth away to push two fingers into your dripping hole. You moan loudly as his lips attach back to your clit, and you can feel your stomach tighten at the feeling of both his fingers and mouth working you fervently.

“So good for me, baby. Don’t stop.” you purr, trying desperately to keep your eyes on him as you feel the familiar sensation growing in the pit of your tummy.

“Won’t stop. Wouldn’t dream of it.” he mutters, curling his fingers to push against that spot inside of you.

“Buck. Oh my god.” you whine loudly, tilting your head back as you finally let go. He smiles against your cunt, lapping up your juices until he’s sure he’s gotten it all, desperate to work you through your orgasm.

“How was that, baby?” he asks when he finally pulls away, his chin glistening with your juices.

“Did so good, baby. So good for me.” you tell him, trying to slow your heavy breathing as you push his hair back with the hand previously gripping his hair tightly.

He beams, kissing your thighs gingerly. You almost laugh; he’s looking up at you with bright, wide eyes, he almost looks like a sad puppy.

“Thank you. Taste so good, baby. Best thing I’ve ever tasted.” he murmurs, continuing to kiss your sensitive thighs.

“You think you should be forgiven now?” you ask in a slightly teasing tone. You know you’ve forgiven him; you forgave him as soon as his lips touched your core, but you can’t help but continue for a little bit longer.

“Yes. Please. Please forgive me, pretty girl. I only want you.” he pleads, squeezing your thighs.

You laugh softly, caressing his cheek, and he leans into your touch immediately.

“I forgive you, baby. But if I see something like that again, I won’t be so nice.” you tease, although there’s a sternness in your voice. He nods quickly, pressing one last kiss to your thigh.

“Promise, baby. It won’t happen again. I love you.” he says desperately. You keep a straight face for a moment before you smile, nodding.

“I know, and I love you, too. Now give me a kiss.” you tell him softly. He’s quick to unwrap his arms from your thighs, standing up and pushing you back onto the bed. He crawls over top of you, slotting between your legs as he kisses you with fervor.

You can taste yourself on his tongue as his tongue glides across your lips, and you part them gently, pulling him closer by his shirt.

“I love you. My pretty girl.” he murmurs against your lips, and you smile, continuing to kiss him.You know you may have overreacted, but it was definitely worth it to see him like this.

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mikashisus · 1 month ago

Note

ray idk anything about hsr or genshin so i can’t req for those unfortunately 💔 BUT you summoned me by including bllk in your list HEHEHE can i request smth for nagi?? i don’t really have any specific ideas though…maybe childhood friends 🤔 or anything you want really!!

sorry this is so unspecific i’ve never requested before 😔 but ilyyyy and congrats on 200 that’s amazing!!

— definitely not mira 👹

STITCH ME UP

synopsis: you didn’t consider nagi seishiro a friend at first. but now, you couldn’t imagine your days without him latched to your side.

taglist. @pneumosia @pixelcafe-network @gl4di0lus ( join the taglist here! )

word count. 2.1k ( contents : semi angst, injuries, mc has a short temper )

notes. this has been sitting in my inbox since JULY IM SO SORRY MIRA 😭 but it's finally here!! there'll def be a part 2 bc this is so dogshit and i need to redeem myself with a second part. mira i look up to ur writing sm so u only deserve peak, and i promise u'll get it in part 2 queen 🙏 anyw um the title is in reference to the song “stitch me up” by set it off :))

header art by: @/Liiiiiiimsao ( twt )

The first time you met Nagi Seishiro, you were about to go into your first year of middle school, curled up on the side of the street struggling to wrap a bandage around your left arm.

It was sunset then, and the world was quiet aside from the loud buzzing of cicadas and the occasional car passing by.

Nagi had just left a tiny convenience store located on the edge of the street, his phone in his hands as he tapped away at the game he was currently fixated on. Knowing the way back home by heart, he began to walk in that direction, unaware of his surroundings.

It was only when he tripped over something rather sturdy did he finally forcefully take his eyes off the device in his hand. His grip on his phone tightened. He was determined not to drop it and risk the screen cracking again.

Not paying any mind to what he just tripped over, he sighed in relief that he did not drop his phone, and patted down his pants.

“HEY!”

A loud yell drew him from his stupor. He slowly turned, coming face to face with a scowl. He blinked at you for a few seconds, before he faced you properly and raised a brow.

“Yes?”

“Look where you’re going, asshole! You tripped over me!” You snapped, patience wearing thin.

His shoulders slumped. Now that you stood in front of him, you realized just how tall he actually was. He kind of looked like a third year. It made you all the more aggravated. You hated anyone that could look down on you like he was.

“Oh. Sorry, I guess.” He shrugged, acting as if what just happened was not a big deal. “You have a bad mouth.”

That was the last straw. Your fists clenched tightly, your nails digging into your skin as your eye twitched. You ignored the pain in your palms and challenged his stoic stare.

“So what?” You crossed your arms over your chest. “Is that a problem?”

He shrugged again and looked down at his phone. “I don’t really care.”

He got ready to leave, when he cast one last glance at you, and his eyes landed on the now bloody bandage that came undone from your arm. The longer he stared, the more he realized he'd seen you before.

He racked his brain for answers, sifting through each memory to try and remember where he’d seen you. Meanwhile, you were silent, fidgety. You did not enjoy people staring at you. It made you anxious, like they were trying to challenge you in some way.

This weird boy who you did not understand and you deemed an asshole for not watching where he walked made you feel quite nervous. You knew him from school. He was the boy who was exceptionally good at volleyball.

You could remember how fascinated you were watching him play during gym class. He had all the talent you could only hope for, and the envy had bubbled up inside you, growing exponentially. Despite your envy, you quickly forgot about him after you no longer had to be in the same proximity as him, and you went about your life without thinking of him again.

Until now.

Nagi finally remembered where he had seen you. It was as if a lightbulb had suddenly appeared above his head, and his eyes widened slightly in surprise. You were that one kid that liked to pick a fight with anyone taller than you.

He first caught a glimpse of you in the nurse’s office when he had tripped outside during gym class and cut open his knee. As he was waiting for the nurse to return with gauze, he heard a commotion outside the office and saw your rather short form tackle a boy twice your size.

With the strength of a lion tucked inside that small body of yours, you refused to give up the fight until the nurse came back and rushed out into the hall to separate the two of you.

Nagi remembered watching your face fall in defeat when the nurse said to go to the principal’s office and that your parents would need to be called.

“You’re that kid.” The words slipped from his mouth before he could stop them. “You like to pick fights with people.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he watched you deflate like a balloon right in front of him. Your face fell, and your arms dropped to your sides. He wondered what it was that made you so upset. Was it the reputation you had around the school?

Just then, he saw the loose bandage on your arm completely come undone. It fell to the ground and pooled around your feet. Time stopped, and he stared in absolute horror at the mess of stitches on your arm. You did nothing to pick up the bandages. In fact, you barely moved.

He would’ve thought you to be a statue if not for the slight twitching of your fingers. You tapped idly against your thigh, your eyes blank as you stared at the ground. He watched closely as your fingers danced in a certain rhythmic movement, and he soon realized you were tapping in morse code.

S.O.S.

He barely had time to register that it was morse code. His focus went back to the ghastly stitches on your arm. They looked as if they were done by someone with no experience whatsoever, but there was clearly an attempt.

The wound itself did not look any better, and he wondered if you had even cleaned it all. He noticed a few other scars littered on your arm. They were smaller and less noticeable, but his intense stare had caught sight of them easily.

“How’d you hurt yourself?” He questioned softly, unaware he had asked that out loud instead of inside his head.

You did not answer. Not right away at least. With a heavy sigh, you collapsed back against the fence you were previously leaning on before he had tripped over you.

“I didn’t do anything,” you muttered with a tinge of venom in your voice. “It was someone else… But no one ever believes me, so as far as anyone is concerned, I did this to myself.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that. Instead, he picked up the bandages you dropped, careful not to touch the parts covered in blood, and told you to wait here.

Where would I even go? You thought. It’s not like I’m going anywhere anytime soon.

Within a few minutes, he was rushing out of the convenience store and across the street again, a pack of gauze and a water bottle in his hands. His phone was now tucked into his pants pocket. He kneeled down next to you and gently reached for your arm.

“Did you try to stitch this up yourself?”

He did not need an answer. He already knew it, though he felt the need to ask anyway. You nodded, so slight he almost missed it. He pulled a pair of scissors from the second plastic bag wrapped around his arm and carefully cut the string.

With gentle hands, he removed the stitches to the best of his ability and dropped them onto the bandages from earlier. You tried your best not to move the whole time, but he could tell from your scrunched expression that you were in more than a bit of pain.

He unscrewed the cap of the water bottle. “This might hurt.” He poured water over your wound, causing you to bite back a scream.

“I don’t know how to do stitches, so…” He trailed off. “So I just got this.” He held up the gauze he bought and carefully wrapped up your arm.

As soon as he was finished, he threw the gross bandages into the now empty plastic bag and glanced at you. Your brows were still furrowed and your lip was still tugged between your teeth.

He stood up, taking a look at the sky. The sun was almost fully over the horizon by now, and he was likely late for dinner. He needed to leave now and get back home. As he turned to do just that, he almost missed the slight crack of your voice.

“Thank you.”

Were it not for the temporary silence of the cicadas, he would have missed your words entirely, and it would not have paved the way for your future with Nagi Seishiro.

The next time you saw Nagi was in your second year of middle school.

A white volleyball came flying out of the gym one day after school, narrowly missing his nose. It fell to the ground with a plop a foot away from him. Rushed footsteps sounded from behind him as he picked it up, and he could hear the yells of the volleyball team from the open doors of the gym.

A familiar voice entered his ears. “I got it!”

Moments later, you were rushing out of the gym doors, sweat lining your temple and your collarbone. An exhausted expression rested on your face, and fresh bandages were wrapped around the same arm he tended to a year prior.

You stopped as you looked up at him, your eyes flashing with recognition as you took in the tall boy standing before you with your volleyball in his hands. You swallowed thickly, fiddling with the hem of your black t-shirt.

He handed you the volleyball. “Here you go.”

��…Thanks.” You hesitantly took it from his hands and hugged it to your stomach. You stared at him warily for a moment before turning around to head back into the gym.

“You play volleyball?” He asked suddenly, shocking you as you were not expecting him to make small talk.

You turned to face him again and nodded. “Yeah… My dad is a fan, so as soon as I was old enough to play, he signed me up for lessons,” You said.

There was a pause, and he could tell by the awkward look in your eyes that you were debating on if you should share more or not. In the end, you caved.

“I’m not that good. So I mainly just play because it’s fun.” You shrugged. "...I should get back to practice.”

You left before he could get another word out. Later that day, when you were walking home from practice, you saw Nagi again— this time walking out of his house. His eyes met yours, and you both stared at one another in surprise. You lived in the same neighborhood.

You never went as far as to consider that you and Nagi were friends. Not at first, at least. You never had friends— not after your reputation of being a short-tempered, fight-starter circulated around the school. Even your volleyball team was not a fan of you, despite the fact that you were surprisingly good when it came to teamwork.

Everyone was inclined to stay away from you. Either out of fear or hatred, you weren’t sure. But as time passed, you came to accept being the loner who always ended up in the principal’s office.

That was until Nagi offered you a can of soda after your failed attempt of getting the faulty vending machine to work. It was late in the afternoon on a Friday in Spring of your first year of high school. Up until that point, the two of you only interacted at odd times when you just so happened to come across each other in the halls or walking out of your houses.

No words were ever shared between you, only slight nods of the head and small waves in greeting. Now, though, Nagi was taking a seat next to you on the staircase, placing a can of soda next to your foot. He pulled out his phone, loaded up a game, and handed it to you.

“Wanna play?”

You blinked at him in surprise, before nodding. You got past four levels in the game before dying, letting out a groan of frustration. He leaned over your shoulder, watching the screen intently. Occasionally, he’d chime in with a word of advice, or ask if you wanted him to do that level for you. You two sat there on that staircase for what felt like hours, before a staff member came and told you to leave.

After that day, you would meet on the stairs everyday after your volleyball practices, playing that very same game together and attempting to outdo each other’s high scores. This routine continued, until one day you invited him to the park with you to play there.

You didn’t consider Nagi Seishiro a friend at first. But now, you couldn’t imagine your days without him latched to your side.

#blue lock #bllk #bllk x reader #nagi seishiro #nagi bllk #nagi blue lock #nagi x reader #nagi x you #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi seishiro x you #bllk x you #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #— ( 🥂 200 event. mikashisus. )#—mikashisus works .ᐟ

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nomatterwhatnomatterwhere · 4 months ago

Text

Feels (Warm) like Sunlight

Max Verstappen x reader

author note's: this story has been floating in the back of my head for longer than I am willing to admitt, so although I'm not really sure about how I feel about this , I hope you enjoy it even a little bit

Kelly's pov :Feels ( Harsh) like Winter Wind

Reader's pov: Feels (Wistful) like Summer Rain

You were really beautiful.

You always had been but that night you were much more beautiful than he remembered.

The dress you were wearing seemed to be sewn on you. For you.

You shone that night, maybe more than the lights that brightened the terrace, maybe more than the stars.

It was one of the things that drove people to notice you, to approach you, not that you were aware of it, anyway.

But it wasn't that that led him to you, it was your laughter: a sound he would have recognized among a thousand, a sound he wouldn't have been able to forget, even if he tried.

It was strange, seeing you again after so long. To see you again in person.

It tasted like remorse mixed with regret.

You and Max had known each other since middle school, when you were kids with social problems who were only comfortable on the Kart track.

Max used to race there, on karts. The kart track was practically his home. But for you it was a different story: you were at the top of the class, the teachers loved you, and not all the students seemed to like you, and Max knew this despite the absences because of racing.

It was clear, any place you were in was illuminated by your presence alone.

Yet that light was not warm. Max knew this well.

He knew it because the light you gave off when you were at the kart track, though smaller and dimmer, warmed everyone around you.

The atmosphere was different when you were there, and Max had seen it with his own eyes: no one on the staff would point out to you that there were places you couldn't be, not when you asked them if everything was okay, if they wanted some water, if they wanted one of those milk candies you always carried around.

Max didn't ask, he didn't know you, he had no reason to ask. He was there for the karts.

The kart track owners had taken you under their wing, considered you a daughter.

They were your foster parents, after all.

You weren't quite sure if the staff knew, that you weren't really their daughter, but given how they turned a blind eye to some things, they probably thought you were really the owners' natural daughter.

( How could you not think so when it was obvious you were their daughter: it was obvious in the way they looked at you, the way they talked about you, it was the light in their eyes that made it obvious.

You were the only one who did not see it )

You had said it yourself once when his father had dropped him off at the kart track.

You were at the reception desk, doing your math homework. You asked him if he wanted to be driven home, since the go-kart track would be closing soon and going home alone could be dangerous, he told you that you didn't have to worry, and then you offered him a milk candy.

You had started doing this every time his father left him there: asking him if he wanted to go home and then offering him a candy after he refused.

When he came back from competitions you would get him the list of school subjects he was supposed to catch up on, sometimes you would give him your notes.

You started studying together, there at the reception table.

His father didn't seem bothered, in fact, since studying with you Max's grades had improved, and as long as he was doing well in school the too many absences didn't matter.

“He has a strange way of showing that he loves you.”

You should have been in class, but he had received permission to leave the classroom because of the situation between his parents, divorce papers and all, you, on the other hand, had simply decided to skip class.

( which was strange on your part, which is why you were only sent home with a reprimand.)

You had been sitting on the steps of the emergency stairs when you had told him and he was eating one of your candies, you gave him the whole package.

You had talked about you, about your biological family that you knew existed but didn't really spend time with, about your foster family that you didn't really feel a part of but were grateful for, about the fact that you hated studying despite the fact that studying came easy to you and that sometimes you thought it was the only thing you were good at, about a book that looked interesting but you hadn't bought because you had three other books looking at you judiciously from your nightstand waiting to be read, about a scarf that you thought would look good on him but you weren't sure he would like the fabric and that maybe you could go shopping together.

You had talked about everything that had crossed your mind in order to give him something else to think about.

You could have listed the characteristics of cockroaches and Max would still have listened to you.

He liked your voice; it was cozy, warm, gentle.

Completely different from what he heard at home.

You were not exactly his safe place, but at that moment you were what he had closest to a pleasant place.

Following his parents' divorce and his moving in with his father, your relationship had strengthened.

You continued to see each other at the kart track, study together, sometimes even went to his races, even when they were not in your immediate vicinity, even when your priorities should have been other

“I understand that the race has your undivided attention and interest, but the literature assignment will not do itself alone.”

Again, his father did not seem bothered by your presence; when you were there Max had better performances-he cared about making a good impression when you were there.

It was nice when you complimented him, meant every word, were genuinely happy for him.

It was less nice when, at the end of the race, he wasn't the first person you complimented because you were talking to someone else

It was the same in school, too. No matter how out of place or socially awkward you felt, your light attracted people, just as it did for moths.

It was obvious, how every time there was someone trying to get your attention, even for a moment, to enjoy your warmth. And you, like the kind person you were, gave your undivided attention to those who demanded it.

It was annoying.

But then, as if sensing it, you would find him in the crowd and run in his direction, smiling, congratulating him on the race.

He didn't even realize the smug look he took on when you preferred him over everyone else; it was his sister who had pointed it out to him.

It was his debut in Formula 1 and his race had ended after 32 laps due to engine failure.

His mood was not the best when he had returned to the pits, but he was not the only one, as you seemed rather annoyed as well

“Some people can't take no gracefully” was what Victoria had said after your umpteenth frustrated sigh and his raised eyebrow ‘ One of the older guys asked her out and she turned him down, but the guy wants a ’valid reason.' Not even the time difference seems to stop him.”

He wasn't surprised: you were pretty, people liked you, and more than once Max had witnessed guys asking you out. A couple of times even girls.

That wasn't new.

What was new was the fact that someone demanded a valid reason for a rejection.

What the fuck did that mean? You were not required to give any 'valid reason,' but knowing you, you had already given the asshole an explanation.

It bothered him. The situation bothered him. It bothered him that he never noticed your situation.

“I'm pretty sure she thought about throwing the phone into the street, hoping one of the cars would run over it-”

“Then I thought it might cause serious trouble” you had inserted yourself into the conversation after spending a good quarter of an hour on the phone "Sorry about the race, you were doing well-ugh" you had just leaned into him when your phone had started ringing again, but you refused the call, as you had for the three that followed because ”I came for you, not to talk on the phone”

“She kept rejecting every other call because ' you deserved all the attention you could get-wipe that look off your face. You're disgusting.”

Max didn't think he was disgusting. There was no reason why he should hide the satisfaction he felt at being the recipient of your attention. Especially after a debut that had not yielded the desired results.

He is not sure what happens next, not sure when your attention becomes part of the background, not sure when your presence is no longer needed for better performance, not sure when your light, your warmth, are no longer the same.

He is not sure when all this is happening, because otherwise he would have noticed how you started to stop showing up at his competitions, to stop sending him good luck or congratulatory messages, to remove yourself from his life.

Because otherwise he would not have felt so bewildered when, after years, he heard your voice again and realized that you had only disappeared from his life, not from his family's.

That you were no longer an integral part of his life, but he was no longer an integral part of yours.

He had been leaning back, sitting with his back to the wall, as he listened to his mother and sister talking to you in the next room, blissfully unaware of his presence.

Your voice had remained the same, always warm and kind, as you mediated between his mother and Victoria about Victoria's current boyfriend, as you updated them on your plans for the day, when you would show up for lunch at their house now that you had finally moved to Monaco, what to expect from the new radio show you would be hosting.

Max had no idea you lived in Monaco, had no idea you worked in radio, had no idea you were a well-known name, even outside the radio world.

He found out the next morning, while listening to the column you had talked about the day before, when your co-host introduced you as the host of the most popular late-night column. Not only of your radio station, but in general. Or when one of the guests very shyly asked if they could be invited on your youtube channel, which you had accepted without any problem.

Before Max knew it, with your gentle voice that smelled like home,and your being able to talk about anything while putting others at ease, you were back to being what he had closest to a pleasant place.

It was your voice that listened when something in the race didn't go as planned and he had to calm his nerves. It was your videos he followed between training and simulator sessions.

You would talk about the pros and cons of doing a job like yours, in the public eye but whose physical and mental stress many ignored, recounting some funny episodes, making some criticism of the system, sometimes inviting guests to take the floor and express their thoughts.

Occasionally you would talk about your life, what you liked and what you disliked, the more or less peculiar hobbies you had, as you got ready to go to work or work-related events.

Those were Max's favorites, which in a rather unhealthy way, felt that he was a part of your life again.

It was during one of those episodes, one of the rare live ones, that he realized he was still part of your life. Indirectly.

“Is there an F1 race or something?” you chuckled slightly ”I guess that means you can hear the noises. Uhm-” you had looked to the side, then started walking ”I mean someone sure is racing but is not an F1 race, sorry. Just karting” you had arrived near a track that Max knew well, having spent most of his life there, apologizing for the noise by raising your tone of voice as you picked up the passing karts ”I'll make sure to pass the compliments tho. Pretty sure they'll be happy to hear someone thought they were F1 drivers”

You had said this with a look that to Max seemed nostalgic, or perhaps he hoped it was; he selfishly wanted to believe that you were thinking back to the time you both had spent there.

Since you 'revealed' you had spent most of your life between races and motors, your audience had not only expanded, but had also begun to ask you for content about that world you knew from the inside.

It was frustrating, walking around the paddock and having the feeling of having heard your voice in the confusion, of catching a wisp of your hair among the people and feeling like he was hallucinating in some way when he couldn't find you.

It was even more frustrating when you had talked on the radio about how much you would love to be a correspondent at a Grand Prix or when on the channel you had seemed so enraptured to be in the paddock, to talk to anyone who could - and would -have a chat with you, which to be understood, was really a lot of people, from drivers to mechanics to fans.

Everybody seemed to be enchanted by you, Max was sure they were, because he was enchantment too and he yearned for the warmth that they had felt. He yearned for it as much as he yearned to win every race.

Never before had he longed as in those moments to go back in time to when he didn't have to hope you would turn in his direction, that you would be in the same place as him, that you would be beside him.

That your attention was on him because you wanted it, not because he asked for it.

When he had heard your voice he really thought he was in the grip of some auditory hallucination, because you had said so yourself, that when you could you preferred not to attend.

“Although it may not seem like it, I don't really like staying in crowded places for too long, I get easily overwhelmed by all of that.”

He had tried not to jump whenever he heard a sound that sounded like your voice, but it was impossible not to when he heard your laughter.

Not when he was so sure he wasn't imagining everything. Not when you were so close-

You were talking to someone Max didn't know, but you both seemed engrossed in whatever you were discussing, at least until your interlocutor had been pulled into another conversation.

You physically relaxed, releasing the tension in your shoulders, as you shifted in search of a slightly quieter place before throwing yourself back into the fray.

You leaned against the parapet, running your gaze through the crowd, watching people from your little bubble.

Unlike in the past, you no longer seemed to sense his presence, because no matter how much Max stared at you, hoping that like in the old days somehow, he could still be the recipient of your attention, just like that, effortlessly, just because you wanted him to.

It didn't matter you hadn't met his gaze, he couldn't take his eyes off you, now that he had a chance to have you back in his life.

You didn't noticed he had approached you with two glasses of champagne, so absorbed in your thoughts.

It took you a millisecond too long to recognize him; it had been obvious when your eyes had widened and your shoulders had stiffened again.You looked like a deer in the headlights.

He had never gotten such a reaction from you. It did not felt good.

You accepted the glass with a slight smile, even though you had not the slightest intention of drinking its contents.

It was strange, he didn't know what to say to start talking to you. He rarely did not know what to do, how to act.

As a pilot he was used to deciding how to act, in the time of a blink of an eye, because in a job like his, hesitating for a second too long could be lethal.

These were decisions he had to make, and he couldn't overthink, because at that moment, in that car, on that circuit, in that corner or on that straight, he has to start and finish first. Even if it meant being unfair.

The media had exaggerated about him, but he still was Mad Max.

Yet at that moment he did not know what was the best thing to do, to say. He had too many things on his mind and none at the same time.

“It's been a while, hasn't it?”

You had always been good at putting others at ease, at making a situation less burdensome, your work showed that, and maybe it was something that was inherently part of you, but the way you had spoken to him was not what Max had hoped for.

It was still your voice, warm and gentle, tasting of home, but it was different from what he remembered, from what you used in videos or on the radio, from the voice he associated with you.

From his pleasant place.

There was an undertone that he didn't recognize ,that he couldn't associate with your person.

It felt a little cold, sharp. Like the air on the terrace, not cold enough to feel at the poles, but cool enough to bother you.

You still emanated that light, that warmth. He knew it, he had seen it only a few minutes before, but now it seemed feeble.

“Less than you think.”

At his words, blunt as ever, you had turned in his direction with a confused expression but before you could ask what he meant, he continued

“Why didn't you come to the Redbull pit?”

“Sorry what-”

“Why didn't you tell me you were coming to the races? I could've-”

“ I didn't have to tell you tho” you interrupted him by crossing his eyes as you leaned your arms on the railing ”We hadn't talked in ages, I couldn't just text you. It didn't feel right, you know?”

It didn't feel right to you to do a lot of things, you were like that as a kid and hadn't changed even as an adult, but he didn't think you would find yourself saying something like that to him.

It was true that you hadn't been in touch for a long time, and certainly mending relationships takes time, but he had never stopped to think about the fact that you might feel uncomfortable, as if you were disturbing him, in talking to him.

He was the person you preferred over everyone else

“Didn't think you knew I was there … Was it Vic who told you?”

He and Victoria talked, sure, but it wasn't like Vic was talking about you. Not to him, at least.

In fact, when they were both at their mother's house, and she happened to be on the phone with you, Victoria would switch rooms if he was around. She did the same when she was talking to someone about you and he was within earshot, if she didn't change the subject directly, let's be clear

“Heard you on the radio.”

His was a half-truth, if he had told you that he followed almost religiously every social communication from you he would have sounded more like a stalker than he already felt.

There was another silence, a little less tense than the previous one, which was short-lived anyway

“Heard the news” you had finally met his gaze ”for all that matters, I'm sorry.”

It hadn't taken him long to figure out what you were referring to; the fact that he and Kelly had broken up had been making the rounds on gossip sites even before they officially broke up, and once official they had been one of the most talked-about news stories in and out of the paddock.

It was a courtesy apology, but the fact that you were apologizing was somewhat ironic considering how much you were, albeit indirectly, involved in the situation.

The relationship with Kelly had been his corner of heaven since it began.

Kelly understood him on levels that no one seemed to reach, probably also complicit in her family history and her relationship with Daniil.

She did not marginalize him as most of the grid did.

She did not treat him like the kamikaze kid the media liked to write about.

She didn't look at him as if he might collapse into a thousand pieces like you did.

Being with Kelly made him feel good; he felt almost like when he was racing on the track, it was a great feeling.

When he was with Kelly he felt … understood.

Not to mention how he felt when he was with P: they had so much in common, Max could read them, those similarities, he could see so much of himself in the little bundle of tenderness that she was

He had a soft spot for P, and P seemed to have the same soft spot for him.

Or at least that was what the people around him said.

After a while, however, everything had become repetitive, boring, stagnant.

It wasn't bad, but not as pleasant as it was in the beginning either.

Something was missing.

The same something he sensed when he heard your voice, when he watched your expressions change.

It was something that made Max never tired of listening to you, that you never came across as boring, never dull.

Kelly knew this; she was neither stupid nor blind.

He didn't know how she knew, but it didn't matter so much.

Not when their last conversation had ended in screams and slamming doors.

“Mmmh” he didn't think there was any way to respond to what you said, so he merely nodded, ready to change the subject ”I can get you a pass, if you plan to watch the race.”

You laughed lightly, and Max felt that warmth again

“ If I plan to watch the race?” you had lifted your lips in that smile you used to make when you were joking ” I don't think you will ever find someone who's not here for the race. Well, they sure have other things to do, but you know what I mean.”

Yes, he knew. Formula 1 at the Montecarlo circuit was almost a sacred ritual, not only for people like you who lived there, but for the entertainment world in general.

Formula 1 was not called 'circus' by chance, the silly season was now intrinsic to its essence as Formula 1

“I appreciate the thought, but I already got my pass, but thank you,” you said as you began to walk away from the rail.

“Even for Quali?”

Max knew he had just made you a difficult offer to refuse, and it wasn't just your stopping to look at him, scrutinizing him, as if you were watching him for the first time, that made it obvious.

“You … have my attention.”

You were about to say something else, it was quite obvious, but Max was nevertheless pleased with your choice of words.

He was again the stated object of your attention, and he wasn't sure there was a feeling that felts as right as that

He had been talking to Raymond, while you pretended not to listen, deciding to focus on what was around you

Max didn't almost heard what Raymond was saying to him, so taken by the small, but sweet, smile on your face when you had heard the smile in Ray's voice greeting you

You had known Ray for as long as you had known the Verstappen family ,he had been his father's manager, it had seemed natural that he would take care of Max as well.

To be honest, Max didn't think you had who knows what relationship, he didn't even remember ever seeing you speak togheter, but from the small reaction of both of you, it seemed to him that he was missing something.

You gave him your email, your work email because you checked that one the most, so that Ray could contact you to get the details he needed.

When the call was over, you had thanked him, and asked him to apologize to Ray on your behalf for disturbing him at that ungodly hour. He had tried to reassure you; Raymond was used to keeping late hours.

That had earned him a look from you that was meant to be scolding, but had lost its value when you had chuckled, shaking your head

“You really are awful.”

And then Max had felt himself going back in time to when you were two kids with social difficulties, only unlike Max, you had stopped feeling comfortable only on the kart track.

Although you were sidelined, lots of people had come to say hello, to chat with you, to take pictures that you could post.

To enjoy your warmth, your light.

And you didn't seem the least bit uncomfortable, no longer hiding behind your kind smile and no longer giving the attention that was asked of you just so you wouldn't come across as rude, just because you were kind.

You were aware of your light, you had learned to handle it.

Perhaps, it was that awareness that made you so beautiful

you had always been but that night you were much more beautiful than he remembered.

#formula 1 #formula one #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #mv1 x reader #mv1 fic #mv1 imagine

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d1onysusw1n3 · 5 months ago

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Dirty Grimes - rick grimes x reader

Tw: slight age gap (reader is 22 and rick is in his 40s) Cheating, P in V, slight bondage, rick is kind of rough. And a slight size kink. Plus squirting and creampie.

This is an AU where the apocalypse has never happened! Carl is a collage student who was a childhood friend. Lots of plot but I will give a warning on where the smut starts so if u want to skip the plot and head straight to the spice, do as u please!

“C’mon baby it’s not that bad, stop worrying about shit.” Carl huffs shaking his head in a annoyed way.

Look I love him to death Don’t get me wrong, but I dread coming over to his parents house over the holidays. My father ran out on my family when I was little, my mom was diabetic and she always had hospital bills up to her neck. So I was a bit of a problem child, until high school came and I worked my ass off for a full ride scholarship to Stanford. I’ve known Carl since middle school he always had a crush on me but I’d shoot him down and tell him when we get older we’d get married. Well I guess that wish came true.

I look down at the huge diamond on my finger. Me, Y/N summers, becoming a grimes? Who would’ve thought it. When I said yes it felt like the world stopped, but as time went on Carl got distant, stressed. He seemed easily annoyed by me. Plus that fact that I can’t help but to be scared of his father. Sherif grimes. He caught me vandalizing a classroom with spray paint once in middle school. He scared me shitless, but Carl stood up for me and helped my mom bail me out. Safe to say whenever I come over Rick always seems so, intense. The way he carries himself as if I’m a rabbit and he’s waiting to pounce on his prey. It scares me shitless, to be frank! And his marriage hasn’t been doing to good, last time I came over Lori and him wouldn’t talk or extange glances, no his eyes were too busy studying me, picking me apart as if he’s trying to read me like a book.

“Just calm down, you’re overreacting like usual.” Carl says as he brings the car to a stop, placing it in park. I scoff shaking my head at his antics.

“Overreacting? That’s what you want to tell your fucking fiancé before she tells her future in laws that she’s getting married to their son?” I scoff.

“I’m done arguing with you.” he sighs running a hand through his long hair. “It’s only arguing because you can’t have a normal conversation without acting like you hate me!” I scream frustration enveloping my body. “I should’ve never asked you to marry me then, my sincerest apologies.” He coldly says while walking out the car to the front door without me. I sit back contemplating what he just said. It broke my heart. I catch up to him wiping the tears that escaped my face, my eyes puffy and nose red, but I guess I can chalk it off as the allergies during spring break. He knocks and to my surprise Lori opens the door, yet I could see the clunky mascara and the bloodshot puffy eyes. She had been crying.

“Hiii! Oh my baby’s back” she smiles widely a genuine smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes like usual, and that glow that had once been her flame, has been burnt out into ash. It’s apparent on her hunched shoulders and the way she frowns when nobody looks.

“And look at you Y/N! All grown up and in collage.” She smiles and hugs me tightly. I always loved Lori, she was sweet to me, because she knew I grew up less fortunate than others.

“Hi lor how you doing?” I smile as I embrace her into a tight hug. I could feel her hiccup and take deep breaths.

“I’m living, at least I can be grateful for that.” She smiles tightly as she sees rick walk down the stairs to us.

“Hey, you wanna talk later?” I ask nudging her. She just nods and puts her fake smile back on as rick walks right past her and to Carl.

“Hey! My boys back.” He hugs Carl tightly while leaning back gripping his shoulders. “Man your old now! what’re you like fifty?” Rick teases as Carl rolls his eyes and shrugged his shoulders. “Tha’d make you what? About seventy?” Carl quipped back and rick holds his hand to his heart. “Touché.” Rick smirks as he looks over to me. Instead of his usual crossed arms and tough guy demeanor, he was cuddly today because he wrapped his arms around my waist pulling me in for a generous hug. “How’s my daughter in law huh!” He jokes.

“Doing just fine.” I smile lightly at him. Though in the inside my heart was crushed into a million pieces.

“Well common in dinners ready just in time!” Lori beams walking away, she turns around first motioning to the kicthen. “You wanna help me prepare food Y/N?” She says. I just nod giving Carl a look, he doesn’t even turn to me and ignored my presence, though rick noticed because he turned to me.

“Everything okay?” He asks.

“Peachy.” I reply glaring at Carl while turning and storming off to the kitchen.

As soon as i step in I see Lori breaking down sobbing while holding her mouth to quiet her crying.

“Hey what’s wrong?” I walk up rubbing her shoulder.

“I have been having an affair with ricks partner Shane and he found out about it.” She comes clean.

“And I’m-“ she purses her lips.

“I’m pregnant with his child.” She says sobbing as her shoulders shook.

“It wasn’t supposed to get this bad! I mean rick and I were on a break and it was one time that turned into more times then rick and I got back together and I told him no, but we still went at it anyways a-and I took a pregnancy test and Rick found it.” She spits out fast in her shaky voice.

“I’m so stupid.” She sighs.

“I agree with you on that. There’s so many different ways you could’ve handled this Lori, if you weren’t happy with Rick why didn’t you just tell him?” I frowned at her.

“What about Carl.” She gasps.

“You’re just gonna have to explain things to him, he’ll understand in time.” I say hugging her. We break off setting up the food in the table while calling the boys in to eat. The rest of the night went pretty smooth, everyone laughed a had a good time, well then there was rick, whenever I’d send a nasty look to Carl he’d tune in looking at me with those intense eyes.

“Alright I have something to announce!” I smile as fake as I could. “Carl asked to marry me.” I hold up my hand showing my ring. Out of the side of my vision I could see rick clench his jaw. But Lori gasped while clapping in excitement.

“Oh my baby’s all grown up!” She starts tearing up.

“I’m so happy for you son.” Ricks rasps. Though he looked furious. Cark just tightly smiles wrapping an arm around my waist.

As night fell me and Carl crashed in his childhood room. His walls were filled with comics and superhero’s. I change into my sleep clothes which were some panties and one of carls shirts, I didn’t bother putting on pants, it was way to hot in the summer time. Carl was dead asleep snoring an all, I had a hot flash and was sweating balls. I sigh getting up to walk downstairs and drink a cold glass of water. as I reach the cabinet in the kicthen I stand on my tippy toes trying to reach the last glass on the tallest shelf. I felt a warm calloused hand grip my waist pushing himself against my rear. I could tell it was rick, by his bulky hands and his white tee that was scented of pine and whisky. A man’s scent. Usually it would ick me out, overly manly men, but something about rick made my thighs clench and my tummy flip. I shake my head trying to ban these criminal thoughts of my fiancés father. I call his wife mom so gods sake, pull it together Y/N.

“I saw you strugllin, thought you might need some help.” His raspy voice sounded as sexy as usual, with his thick southern accent.

“Thank you Rick.”

“No problem, sweetheart.” He smirks down at me. He had me slightly caged to the counter, with my ass pressed right against his crotch. I could feel his cold belt buckle pressed tightly to my tramp stamp I got when I was 17. Apparently my shirt rode up my waist when I was struggling to reach for a cup, cause I could feel the cold ac on my bare back. I slightly moved away pulling down my shirt while walking to the fridge grabbing ice and water. I sit down on the island in the kitchen as rick pours himself a glass of whisky while leaning on the counter across from me.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He gruffly says handing me the shot of whisky he poured. I gingerly take it from his hand as my fingers brush his, it sent goosebumps down my spine.

“It was too hot upstairs, I needed some air.” I say with a tight lipped grin. I shot back the whisky quickly sliding the glass back to him, he fills up the whisky glass again but this time he take it down with no struggle, licking the corner of his mouth as some dripped down his chin. I could feel myself clench around nothing. That had to be the hottest thing I’ve ever witnessed.

“Lori told you bout Shane, huh?” He chuckles shaking his head. I could see the tears brim his eyes. I couldn’t help but to feel bad for the man. His wife is pregnant by the man he called his brother.

“Yeah.” My throat suddenly felt dry.

“I’m sorry Rick.” I say chewing the bottom of my lip.

“Don’t be sweetheart, iss alright.” He huffs.

“We were arguing before that as it is anyway, it was bound to happen.” He shakes his head. While he looks down he nods over to your ring.

“So engaged huh? Carl better be treatin you well.” He swallows thickly as his intense blue eyes scan over my body. I felt like a peace of meat.

“He treats me just fine.” I clear my throat.

“Does he though?” Rick quips back. My jaw slacks in shock, not knowing what to say.

“I say you arguing in the car from the window. Seemed like whatever he said hurt?” He presses on.

“He said he wished he never asked to marry me.” I swallow thickly and slightly chuckle as tears run down my cheeks.

“Maybe I’m sensitive, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt like hell.” My wobbly lips smile at him. I look down as tears run down my cheeks. Rick slowly stalks towards me, running his calloused thumb across my cheek collecting my tears.

“What a shame. If you were mine, I would treat you better sweetheart.” He whispers.

At first I couldn’t believe his words. If I were his?

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!SMUT STARTS NEOOOW >-<!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“What do you mean rick?” I whisper back. I could feel the tension between us, so thick it was hard to breathe.

“What I said sweetheart. I could treat you better.” He slowly trails his hands up my thighs in a soothing back and fourth motion.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” He whispers trailing his hands up my shirt gripping my breasts firmly as his thumb nudges the bud of my breasts massaging them slowly.

I gasp leaning into his touch while rubbing my thighs together for friction. It’s been awhile since Carl had touched me. I was horny and deprived.

“Y/N tell me to stop, and that this is wrong.” He groans out as he feels my legs wrap around his hips bringing his crotch right down into mine. I moan slightly tilting my head back.

“Can’t, feel s’to good.” My words slurr as I could feel pleasure running up and down my spine in waves. Rick bends down trailing hot sloppy kisses down my neck into my collar bones, sucking at the sensitive spot making me grind down onto him. He growls gripping my hips pulling me back down onto him. I could feel him grinding himself down into me. His chest heaves in needy breaths. I couldn’t help but to whine, it felt so wrong dry humping my fiancés father in his childhood kitchen, but it felt so good at the same time.

“Need you rick.” I moan out.

“Please.” I frown at him showing off my best puppy eyes. I could feel his dick pulse against me.

“Don look at me like that, sweetheart.” He warns. I quickly slide off of the counter dropping to my knees. I trail my hands up ricks black jeans to his thighs and then to his belt. He doesn’t stop me, he just leans against the counter as i tug his jeans and underwear down to his ankles. His dick springs up close to my face. I could see the intricate veins and precum leaking off his pink puffy tip. I slowly get closer placing a peck on the top of his cock. He grunts as his abs contract in pleasure. I slowly take his tip in my mouth hollowing out while flipping my tongue on the base of his cock flattening it out. He groans deeply sucking in a sharp breath. I swallow more of him down my throat with ease. He moans leaning foreword on the counter I was leaned up against, I could feel his hips thrusting in my mouth. I set my hands to the side as he starts thrusting rougher. His small moans and gasps escaping his throat as I could feel him close to his edge. He quickly pulls out lifting my little body up with ease slamming me on top of the counter.

“Such a good girl huh?” He huffs. “If Carl won’t take care of my baby than I will.” He rips my panties off shoving them in his pocket. Getting down on his knees he kisses my cunt and flattening his tongue on my entrance slowly bringing it up to my clit. He begins to ravage my cunt in fast and needy licks and nibbles. It was so hard for me to be quiet as this was probably the hottest sex I’ve ever had. I felt my legs shake on his shoulders and my arms start to wiggle and give out. Rick stands up wiping off his lips that once were sucking needy at my cunt.

“Lay down baby, don’t worry, I’ll take care of you” his raspy voice soothes my nerves as he lines his tip up to my cunt. He pushes in and I almost came from the sheer thickness of his cock. The way it fills me up and stretches my cunt had me salivating. I couldn’t feel a condom though. And my heart skipped a beat.

“Rick what’re doing-“

“Shhh,” he shushes me and it drowns out all my worries. “Gotta fill my princess up? Yeah.” He starts thrusting slowly but roughly into my wet cunt. I clench down on his cock from his filthy words. “Gonna pump you full of cum” he huffs thrusting faster. My tits bounce roughly due to his thrusts. I arch my back covering my mouth to contain the erotic moans flying out. Rick rips my arms off my mouth holding them down on my stomach. “Don’t hold ur moans in.” He huffs. “Let them hear how good I make you feel.” He growls somehow speeding up fucking me into oblivion as I could feel his dick curve up and hit my G spot with every thrust. I couldn’t hold in my moans anymore and I’m pretty sure the next door neighbors heard me. “That’s my good girl, let them know your my slut.” He whimpers as my cunt clench’s tight around his cock. “You like that huh?” His raspy voice chuckles. “Knowing you’re my slut, how I’m filling you up better than he does mmmh.” My lips quiver and I feel my legs shaking. “R-rick I’m about to cum.” I complain trying to push him off. He doesn’t slow down a bit as he brings up an arm rubbing my clit furiously as he snaps his hips down onto mine. “Cmon baby it’s okay, cum for me.” I felt the buildup finally crash down in hot electric waves. My eyes roll to the back of my head as rick relentlessly pounds my cunt not faltering a second as my orgasm hits. I felt liquid spray all over him, he moans as if that was his breaking point snapping his hips one time deep into my cunt spraying my walls white with his thick cum.

“Fuck, you take my cock so good.” He growls pushing deeper into me, filling up my cunt full. He stands there inside of me as we breathe heavily. I was trying to wrap my head around the fact that I just raw dogged my fiancés father in his kitchen. Rick pulls out staring at the cum dripping down my cunt.

“Rick,thank god I’m on the pill, or else we’d be fucked” I sigh trying to slide off the counter. He pushes me back grabbing napkins while cleaning up his mess.

“Lemmie,” he says while tenderly taking care of me. He picks me up carrying my shaky legs to carls room.

“I’m sorry it got carried away, sweetheart.” He mumbled kissing my forehead. He slowly backs up staring into my eyes intensely while walking away.

After that day I didn’t mind going over to carls over the holidays, in fact, I couldn’t wait till thanksgiving hit, even Christmas.

#rick grimes smut #rick grimes #carl grimes smut #carl grimes #the walking dead #walking dead #michone grimes #lori grimes

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anonymousewrites · 9 months ago

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A Not-So-Disastrous Romance (Book 1) Chapter Twenty-Three

Kusuo Saiki x Reader

Chapter Twenty-Three: Rich Transfer Trouble

Summary: Metori Saiko arrives at PK Academy and immediately messes up the entire ecosystem of students.

“We’re getting a new transfer student,” said (Y/N), sitting down next to Saiki. “But I’m guessing you already know that.”

Saiki nodded. He’d heard it in everyone’s thoughts and conversations all morning.

“What do you know about him?” asked (Y/N).

Despite everything that had gone through their mind (and all the pacing and journaling and screaming into a pillow) after the strange exchange with Saiki the previous night, (Y/N) was determined to act natural. After all, they had no idea what he was going to say or what they were going to say or even what had been happening. It had just been a movie night. That was all. (Y/N) needed to ignore how quickly their heart beat sitting next to him.

“He’s the son of the Saiko Group,” said Saiki.

He, too, was trying to act normal. This was achievable since he was non-expressive, but he, too, was confused about last night. Saiki wasn’t entirely sure what he was going to say when he was looking at (Y/N) and holding their hand. But something important had been in the air. If they had been left to continue…Saiki wasn’t sure what was going to happen. However, Saiki refused to let that hold him back from being around (Y/N). Even if the pressure in his chest—like words unspoken—still rested there, Saiki would act normal. That meant being their friend. And Saiki wouldn’t give that up for anything.

“Is that why everyone’s excited? He’s rich?” said (Y/N).

“Yes,” said Saiki.

“I wonder why he’s coming here,” said (Y/N).

“Everyone, sit down,” said their teacher, walking in. “I will introduce the transfer student. This is Metori Saiko.

Behind her, a man walked up and rolled out a red carpet. A boy with silver hair, green eyes, and a gold earring walked in. In one hand, he held a wad of cash.

“I am Metori Saiko,” he announced. He stood at the front of the class. “Let me warn you. I have no intention of mingling with you peons. Do not speak to me.”

Instantly, everyone’s excitement to meet him went out the window.

“Take a seat there,” said the teacher, gesturing to an open seat.

“No,” said Saiko. “You, peon with the weird lips—” he pointed at Takahashi. “—sit somewhere else.”

Poor Takahashi, thought (Y/N). They frowned. And what a demanding guy.

“ ‘Peon with weird lips?’ ” Takahashi glared. “Do you think you’re better than me because you’re rich?!”

“I don’t think I’m better. I’m actually better,” said Saiko matter-of-factly.

“Yikes,” said (Y/N), making a face. “He has terrible people-skills.”

Saiki nodded in agreement, and that was saying something since he actively tried to avoid people.

“Quit mocking me!” said Takahashi, rushing up.

Saiko tucked a wad of cash into Takahashi’s pocket.

“Teacher, I’ll switch seats!” said Takahashi happily.

“He got bought off,” said (Y/N), shaking their head in disappointment. “I have a feeling he’s going to be trouble.”

“As long as he leaves me alone, I don’t care,” said Saiki.

“That’s a lie,” said (Y/N). “And besides, if he causes trouble for the class, he’ll cause problems for you.”

“Out of the way, peon with a middle part,” said Saiko, kicking Kuboyasu’s backpack out of the way of his walk.

Kuboyasu glared at Saiko. “Why did you transfer to our school?!”

“I usually wouldn’t step foot in a filthy school like this one without any good reason,” said Saiko. He turned to face another student. “You are the reason, Kokomi Teruhashi.” He took her hands. “I saw you on the street before and did some research. I like you. Be my girl.”

“What?!” cried Teruhashi.

“What?!” a general cry went up through the class.

“Please don’t grab someone you stalked,” said (Y/N), smiling and pulling Teruhashi away from Saiko.

The rich boy narrowed his eyes as (Y/N) separated them and Teruhashi looked at them in relief. Teruhashi was (Y/N)’s friend, and they refused to leave her to fend for herself against a random guy.

“Thank you,” said Teruhashi.

“Of course, Kokomi.” (Y/N) squeezed her shoulder. “If you need any help with, just let me know.” They smiled brightly. “I have a mean right hook.”

Kaidou shivered as he remembered seeing in, and Saiki nodded.

“I didn’t know you were a delinquent, (L/N),” said Kuboyasu. I thought they were the ultimate goody-goody.

“They’re not,” assured Saiki.

“There’re already rumors,” huffed Kuboyasu as he sat down for lunch with Kaidou, Saiki, and (Y/N).

“They think Teruhashi’s really going to say yes,” said (Y/N). “The girls do. The boys are scared of her answer.” They frowned. “I hope she’s okay.”

“I can’t stand guys like him,” said Kuboyasu. “Pushing people around and thinking they can get whatever they want just because they have some power.”

(Y/N) nodded firmly. They hated injustice.

“Calm down, Aren,” said Kaidou worriedly. “He lives in a different world from us. He even has a butler and bodyguards with a full buffet. Just leave him alone.”

“He may live in a different world, but he’s here now. I’ll beat him up,” said Kuboyasu.

“But he has bodyguards,” said Kaidou.

“I’ll beat up the bodyguards, too,” said Kuboyasu.

“But what if his parents appear?”

“I’ll have to beat them up, too.”

“That’s too much beating people up.”

“What are you peons talking about?” Saiko appeared next to them.

“Saiko,” exclaimed Kuboyasu, Kaidou, and (Y/N).

“I have no interest in your poor stories,” said Saiko. He looked at (Y/N). “You. Have you seen Kokomi?”

“Nope, and I’m not facilitating your stalking,” said (Y/N) brightly. “I’m sure if you stop being a creep and work on yourself, though, she’d be your friend.”

“Why are you calling her ‘Kokomi?’ ” snapped Kuboyasu. “Let me tell you something, Teruhashi has a huge fan base. They will kill you.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Saiko,” said the leader of the “Kokomins” (a terrible name for a weird club). “We could not find Teruhashi. She may be hiding in the girl’s room.”

“Is everyone going along with this?” exclaimed (Y/N).

“What’s wrong with you!? Did everyone sell their souls?” said Kuboyasu, grabbing one boy’s collar.

“Yes,” said Saiko. “I easily bought them off. I can control anyone in this world using my money. Soon enough, Kokomi will fall for me and be mine.”

“How dare you!” Kuboyasu stood up and curled his hand into a fist. The former delinquent had had enough.

(Y/N) stood up from the table before the argument escalated and slipped away. Saiki watched them go, nearly frowning. They were obviously going to check on Teruhashi, their friend. Saiki sighed. He hoped this craziness didn’t spiral out of control (which it already was by most people’s standards).

“Kokomi?” said (Y/N), walking into the restroom.

“Oh, (Y/N),” said Teruhashi, sighing as she put away her phone. “Is he still looking for me?”

“Yes,” said (Y/N). “And I think he knows that you’re in here.”

Teruhashi groaned. “I just want time to think.”

“Are you considering his offer?” asked (Y/N), blinking in surprise. They hadn’t expected that.

“Well, I mean, he’s rich, and I want to be with someone successful,” said Teruhashi. “But I’m not really…interested in him.”

Right, you like Kusuo like I do, thought (Y/N). However, they weren’t going to hold that against Teruhashi. Saiki was a likable boy. “Then say no. You shouldn’t feel any pressure to be with anyone you don’t want to be with.”

“…Is it really so simple?” said Teruhashi. “I don’t want to upset people. After all, I’m Kokomi Teruhashi.” I’m the prefect pretty girl.

(Y/N) shrugged. “You are, but you’re a person. You should treat yourself with the same respect you give others.”

Teruhashi stared at (Y/N). “I can just say no? Even if it makes him upset?”

“Uh, yeah, you don’t need to be nice to him after he’s been this annoying,” said (Y/N). They chuckled. “He kinda forfeit civility if you don’t want to give it, but you can act as you want. If you want to give him a chance to back out respectfully, then you can. Or you can be blunt. It’s up to you, Kokomi.” They smiled.

The pure encouragement and honesty from Teruhashi made her straighten. She was always the perfect pretty girl, she knew that, but to hear that she could also take care of herself as such was a nice reminder. (Y/N)’s a good friend. “Then I think I’ll—”

“There you are.” Saiko stepped into the bathroom.

“Okay, okay, woah, this is the girl’s restroom, you shouldn’t be in here,” said (Y/N), waving their hands.

“I’ll just make it the boy’s restroom,” said Saiko. He snapped his fingers, and construction workers came in. “Get to work.”

“Yes, sir,” said the workers, beginning to put up symbols for the men’s room and changing the toilets.

This feels like a bit much, thought (Y/N).

“So, what were you going to say, Kokomi?” said Saiko. “You’ve always wanted this to happen, right? I will save you from your life of poverty. There is no proper man or woman at this school. Come to me. Become the wife of Metori Saiko—”

We’re already at marriage?! thought (Y/N), eyes widening.

“—the heir to the Saiko Group,” finished Saiko.

Teruhashi shook her head. “I refuse.”

“What?” Saiko was legitimately confused. “Why?”

Up until recently, I would’ve taken the offer without hesitation. But now I cannot forgive anyone who mocks my friends, thought Teruhashi. And (Y/N) is right. I don’t like him in that way. And I should.

“Because I’m not in love with you,” said Teruhashi. “I’m already in love with someone else.” She couldn’t speak the name, not in front of Saiko and (Y/N), but she could say that much. She knew it was true.

(Y/N) was proud of Teruhashi for speaking plainly, even if it was admitting that she loved Saiki like (Y/N) did.

“What? With who?” demanded Saiko. “Surely no one in this school is worthy of you.”

“I, uh, it’s, uh,” Teruhashi panicked.

“It doesn’t matter who it is,” said (Y/N). “It’s not you, so she doesn’t want to be with you.” They stepped up next to Teruhashi, giving her their full support and encouragement.

Teruhashi nodded, keeping her strong façade up. “That’s right. I can’t date you. I’m sorry, but I just don’t feel the same.”

“I see.” Saiko spoke coldly. “So you’re choosing your peon friends over me?” He pointed accusatorily at (Y/N), who crossed their arms.

“Yes. Friendship matters to me,” said Teruhashi, smiling at (Y/N).

“So your brain is still that of a farm girl,” said Saiko. He turned away. “Whatever. There are plenty of other women.” Still, he wore an angry expression as he walked out.

Teruhashi breathed a sigh of relief. “At least he took it well enough.”

(Y/N) nodded, but they weren’t as convinced. They had a feeling a lot of money was about to be thrown around and cause trouble for them and their friends.

Sure enough, when the next day arrived at school, the group of students that consisted of Saiki and (Y/N) and the rest of his bothers was left in a cloud of worry and stress.

“Kuboyasu got arrested?” said Yumehara, frowning in concern.

“Yeah, he was charged with assaulting Saiko’s bodyguard,” said Kaidou, nodding. He put his hands on his hips. “Even if the bodyguard threw the first punch.”

“That’s awful,” said Teruhashi.

“Saiko is putting the pressure on us, too,” said Kaidou. “My father was suddenly transferred. I may need to move to Siberia.”

“We might end up in the same class again,” said Saiki sarcastically since his own father had received a similar notice.

Mera sighed. “Yesterday, the electricity and water in my house were suddenly shut off.”

“In the Shonen Jump I bought yesterday, there was snot on three pages,” said Nendou.

“That has nothing to do with this,” said Saiki. He glanced at (Y/N), who had been unnaturally quiet. “(Y/N), what about you?”

“My parents might be transferred,” they said quietly. “But they’re going to Madagascar and Siberia. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do if that happens.”

Their eyes remained trained on the floor, and Saiki’s heart constricted at the sad expression he didn’t ever want to see on their face.

“I heard that the peon with the middle part was arrested.” A red carpet rolled out, and Saiko stepped into the classroom. He smirked smugly.

“Saiko!” exclaimed Kaidou.

“I heard Sullen Peon and Little Peon and Interfering Peon—”

Saiki assumed the last one was (Y/N).

“—have parents moving to Siberia,” said Saiko.

“Saiki, (L/N), you’re going to Siberia High, too?!” said Kaidou.

“My parents are arguing over which country I should go to,” said (Y/N), shrugging tiredly.

“…” Saiki shifted at the unnaturally sad expression on their face. It didn’t belong on the face of someone who deserved to smile.

“You, peon with the funny chin, did you enjoy your comic yesterday?” said Saiko, smirking at Nendou. “Super poor girl, did you enjoy the laxative bread left in front of your house?” He grinned at the group. “You are no match for me.” He looked directly at Teruhashi. “If you continue to rebel, the people around you will continue to suffer. You’d better think twice.” He turned and left the room, satisfied at the intimidating presence he’d established.

“Don’t worry, Teruhashi,” said Kaidou, his bravery coming out naturally in the right moment. For all his cowardice, he cared about his friends and wouldn’t let them be pushed around. “We can take it.”

“Right! We can live with a little snot and or moving to Siberia,” said Nendou.

“I agree,” said Kaidou.

“We’re with you, Kokomi,” said Yumehara.

“Right!” said Mera.

“Don’t let him push you around,” said (Y/N), putting on a smile.

“Thank you, guys,” said Teruhashi, smiling. “If there’s anything I can do to help you all, tell me. You’re going through so much trouble for me.”

The others clamored to assure her it was alright, but (Y/N) just nodded, and Saiki looked at them.

“(Y/N), are you alright?” said Saiki.

“I’m fine.” (Y/N) looked at the floor. “I just don’t want to leave you all and be lonely in a new country.” They looked up at Saiki. “I like it here. I’d miss you.”

Tears collected in their eyes, but (Y/N) hastily wiped them away.

The sight of the tears snapped something in Saiki. He narrowed his eyes. Saiko had crossed the line.

It’s time to show him who he is no match for.

Saiki refused to let someone make (Y/N) cry.

Saiko lounged on a throne of cash, smirking. Everything was unfolding as he planned it. “Kokomi has been backed into a corner.”

“Master, you have guests,” said his butler, opening the door to his room.

“Are the peons here to apologize?” said Saiko.

“Not exactly,” said the butler. He gestured to the window, and Saiko looked out.

Below, a crowd of Kokomins stood with wooden swords at the ready. For all the money they’d been given, seeing Teruhashi upset had broken the spell over them. They were ready to punish Saiko for hurting Teruhashi, so they were there to break down the gates.

“What is this?” cried Saiko. He turned to his bodyguards. “Drive them away!”

“Yes, sir,” said his men, running out to take on the students of PK Academy.

“How dare they,” said Saiko, reaching for his room’s phone. “I’ll care for backup.”

A hand closed the communication. It was a boy in a blue cloak, similar to that of the Kokomins but not declaring his love of Teruhashi, and wearing a helmet like that of Cyborg Cider-man No. 2. Pink hair peaked out beneath it.

“What?! Who are you?!” cried Saiko in fear as the stranger appeared in his room and approached.

“You caused me a lot of trouble,” said Saiki, approaching and swinging his arm around. “And you made someone I care about cry. I will make you pay for it.”

“Wait! Calm down!” said Saiko. He gestured to the throne of cash. “I will give you that money. You can even give each one of the people below one million yen!”

“Money?” Saiki picked up a stack.

“Yes!” said Saiko, nodding.

Saiko replied by opening the windows and letting a gust of wind (psychically created) blow the bills out the window. They rained down over the boys below as they fought the guards.

“Whoops. My hand slipped,” said Saiki, monotone.

“What are you doing?!” cried Saiko.

“If you can control them with money as you insisted, this will stop them,” said Saiki.

“What?” Saiko peered down.

“Don’t get distracted!” cried the Kokomins, still battling. The enticement of money was nothing compared to their anger at seeing Teruhashi hurt.

“W-What is going on?” said Saiko, taking a step back in shock as money failed him for the first time in his life.

The Kokomin’s anger was nothing to Saiki’s fury at seeing (Y/N)’s tears. “There are some things money cannot buy.” Saiki let cash knock Saiko to the ground. He turned and faced Saiko with a smirk. “Not even a mountain of coffee jelly could have bought me off.” Nothing would stop me from making (Y/N) smile again. He walked away, leaving Saiko buried under his cash.

The next day, the students of PK Academy were much happier. Teruhashi was smiling once more, and all of her friends were staying in Japan and not getting unnecessary trouble. Peace had been restored.

Saiki sighed and sat back in his chair. Yare yare. As usual, he’d had to get involved. At least everything was cleared up now.

“Kusuo.” (Y/N) leaned in, and he turned to them. They smiled. “Thank you for fixing things.” Everyone at school thought the Kokomins had saved the day, but (Y/N) knew who had really interceded to help them.

Saiki smiled ever-so-slightly. “You’re welcome.” All the trouble was worth it for that smile to come out again. Saiki would do anything for (Y/N)’s smile.

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iiotic · 1 year ago

Text

｡‧What letters? ༻༉

Alastor x Fem! Reader

༉‧.tw - an opinion, mentions of toxic parents, racism, toxic relationship, bullying, death, use of Alchocol, Reader is white (sorry to all other races)

༉‧.words - 1.9k

༉‧.a/n - This is pt 1 and pt 2 of "what letters?" combined because I hated how stupid it looked in 2 parts. The is very badly written because it was one of my first works and as always I'd like to apologize for any mistakes English is not my first language.

In 1907 your parents decided to move in Louisiana, New Orleans. You were awfully scared of changing schools thinking that you won't make any friends since it's the middle of school year.

You were assigned school uniforms. Blue-ish shirt with white buttons and a black skirt just below your knees. Black tights and white boots. You quite liked it however you thought it was a little stupid that they gave you bright shirts. Of course you will get them dirty.

You soon found yourself troubled to sit with someone at lunch. Everyone seemed like they were having a good time, laughing with others and you just didn't want to interrupt them.

You also took a notice of how people sit. In what groups. Everyone was sitting with the same race as them. Just like in your old school, nothing was different here.

You usually sat alone. Until..

-"May i sit here?"- A boy your age asked. He had round black glasses and chocolate eyes. - I took notice of you sitting alone at lunch and i was wondering if i could join you?

You quickly recovered from the shook and agreed to his offer. After introducing yourself you found out that the boys name is Alastor. He told you that he had troubled sitting with anyone because he was "mixed" and that no one accepted him the way he is.

Then you realised what your parents told you. They absolutely forbidden you to talking to any other race. Your dad didn't like black people one bit. He thought that they are absolutely useless and shouldn't be accepted in any way. That they shouldn't exist.

However you weren't just going to throw away your first friend in school like that. Deciding to keep it a secret.

You learned that Alastor is actually really smart. He was the top student in his class, getting straight A's. Well except history but you were great with it so you made a deal. You would help Alastor with history and he'd help you with any other subject you had problems with.

You also met Ms. Barbara, Alastors mother. She was a sweet woman, really. She always made the best jambalaya and was really supportive of her son, always wishing the best for him. She grew a liking to you as well.

Thought you did notice the weird looks people would give you at school. You didn't mind.

After a year you developed feelings for Alastor thinking that he's sweet, clever and fun.. And he knows how to cook. But little did you know that he did too.

Then it all crashed. Your parents decided to move out of Louisiana. You questioned them why would they even wanted to move in if we were leaving now.

Absolutely devastated you went to see and say your last goodbye to Alastor. You promised him to somehow keep in touch and write a lot of letters.

It didn't work out.

Your father found out about your little friend and the letters you would write every night to update him how has your day been and that you miss him. He gave the letters to your mother so that she could burn them or hide them in the attic so that you and Alastor wouldn't have any kind of communication.

And here you were, sitting in your new room. Waiting, waiting for letters from the boy who you've developed feelings for.. Or has he already forgotten about you?

On your 29th birthday you had an accident. A car crash. You decided to drive extremely drunk after your own party. 2 people in the car with you; your best friend and your younger sister. That day 2 souls came to rest and 1 to suffer in hell.

After you woke up in not your body you absolutely freaked out. Where were you? Where is my younger sister? What time is it? I'm hungry. Were you.. Dead?

Behind your laying body stood the "Happy Hotel" where souls are suppose to get rehabilated. You had no other choice then to go there.

3 knocks could be heard across the main hall suggesting that someone is waiting behind the door. A pretty blonde woman opened the door and seemed extremely excited to see you.

She introduced herself as Charlie, the owner of the hotel and the Princess of hell. Charlie explained that you ended in hell and how things work here. You were absolutely terrified.. What did you that you ended here?

But then it hit you. Your father robbed the store multiple times and didn't get caught. You were suppose to keep it a secret and you did. You should've report it to the police.

Charlie also said that you could stay here for as long as you wish, on 1 condition; you would have to help in any way you can. A free place to stay and a nice owner? Of course you agreed instantly.

When Charlie was walking you to your new room you felt awfully uncomfortable.. Like you were watched. You're terrified at this point 'couse you just realised where you are.

Everything is happening so fast that you don't know what's even going on. But before you could realise anything a deer-like creature is standing right infront of you.

You looked up at the tall creature before you with fear in your eyes. None of you said anything. His red eyes staring at you, almost like you were his prey and he was your predator. He was smiling. Why the hell was he always smiling like nothing has ever happen?

How could you look at him the same when he had left you heartbroken like that?

How could you forgive him for everything he'd done?

How could you act like everything was fine when it wasn't?

-"Why didn't you respond to any of my letters?" - The fear in your eyes slowly turning into anger and sorrow. - You promised me you'd write back to me. Then tell me why didn't i receive anything?

His eyes narrowed and his smile grew bigger. -"What letters?" - His voice sounding like an old radio. The static was ringing in yours ears, causing you a headache. -"I never received any of your letters, dear."

-"Stop lying to me, Alastor." - You quickly interrupted his sentence. -"I wrote to you everyday, hoping for a response from you. Tell me, why didn't you fulfil our promise?"

-"I would-" - He was interrupted once again. This time by the owner of the hotel. She walked up to you two with an excited face, screaming your name.

She slowed down as she saw who you were talking to. Her excited smile slowly turned into an more nervous one.

-" I see you two already met each other." - Charlie said focusing more on Alastor, hoping that he didn't do anything stupid. - "In case that he didn't introduce himself his name is Alastor. But I'm sure you've already heard of him. I just came her to say that your room is ready."

You thanked Charlie as you were truly grateful for everything she already has done for you. Without her you would probably be homeless, just waiting to get killed in the next extermination. Soon enough Charlie completely ignored Alastor, dragging you along to introduce to you everyone in the hotel.

-" So that was Niffty! We're 80% sure she's harmless. And this is the bar and the bartender" - She said pointing on an avian cat demon, absolutely screaming with excitement. But can you really blame her? You were her second true guest!

The demon behind the bar just looked at you for a second turning back around to whatever he was doing.

-"Oh! Vaggie here!!"- She said waving at a girl with long white hair with a jagged, moth-like shape to the cut, with gray-lavender stripes at the ends. Charlie quickly introduced her too. -" And this is my girlfriend, Vaggie."

Vaggie just gave you a slight smile while telling Charlie that they should talk in private. Apologising Charlie said that she was going to be right back.

So now you were left all alone in the lobby. You decided to sit on the couch to think about everything that has just happened.

"Okay so there's an afterlife and i'm not so surprisingly in hell. Im in a place filled with crazy psychos.." You pinched the bridge of your nose. Looking around at your surroundings, hoping that this is all a dream. "Some surprisingly happy woman allowed me to stay at her hotel for as long as i want to. And in this hotel there's my childhood bestfriend. Amazing."

-"Fucking amazing" - You said out loud as you heard Charlie coming back wanting to continue the tour.

｡‧₊༻

You woke up to the sound of someone knocking on your door. Getting up and throwing a blanket on yourself you yelled that they should come in.

And he did.

-"What are you doing here, Alastor?"- You looked at him with anger in your eyes. "- I don't want to see you."

-" Well, dearest." - He paused thinking how he should put it in words. -" I just wanted to make few things clear beetwen us."

- "We haven't seen each others in years and here you are being mad at me because you didn't keep our little promise."

- "I didn't keep it?" - You got up from your sitting position on your bed and started to slowly walk up to him. -" I always stayed up late at night writing letters to you every-fucking-day. I thought that you would care just a little to write back to maybe I don't fucking one. Atleast one letter?"

-" As i said earlier, i didn't receive any letters."- He looked at you calmly with his signature smile -"However I'd like to know your excuse to not responding to my letters."

-"I didn't receive any letters Alastor!" - God, you were so mad at him. He truly broke your heart. You liked him.. No you lived him for such a long time. He was your first crush and now? He was just a fucking manipulator. - Why the fuck are you lying to me?

-"I'd like to discuss this matter calmly." - He said referring to you cussing him in every sentence and your unstoppable yelling. - How about I'll take you to a cafe, my treat.

After considering his offer you agreed. You really needed to know what happened between you two and if he was really lying. It was quite dumb for you to just assume he was a liar without any proof but I guess it was the adrenaline rushing through your veins.

This morning you borrowed a dress from Charlie becouse you didn't have any other clothes then the ones that you've fallen in. It was a black dress just below your knees with an sweetheart neckline. She also borrowed you her jewelry so now you're also wearing a golden necklace.

The time of day has come and Alastor knocked to your bedroom once again. This time you opened the door closing it behind, ready to go.

Alastor snapping his finger teleported both of you to a nearby cafe. Coming in and gesturing you to chose a table. After you choose one he pulled out the chair for you and took a seat before you.

-"So dear."- He looked up at you -"That dress really compliments your figure."

-"Thank you however it isn't mine. Now I'd like you to explain what happened?"

-"I don't know what you're talking about, darling. "- Oh now he is acting dumb?

-" I'll ask one last time. Why didn't you respond to any of my letters?" - You asked, this time calmly. Crossing your arms.

-"and I'll say one last time. I didn't receive them."- He said looking out of the window, seeing demons suffer. -"I always thought that you didn't write them, that you've forgotten about me."

-"I'd never forget you, Alastor. You meant a lot for me."- You responded looking out of the window as well -"I couldn't imagine life without you. That's why I was truly heartbroken when i didn't ses you write back."

-"I was writing to you, so many times. In fact i always wrote to you on the end of every week." - He confessed - "For over 15 years."

-"But i didn't receive anything?"

-"Neither did i, dear"- Maybe it was the wrong address? Maybe I just didn't know how to send letters? Maybe I didn't actually send them?

-"So.. I'm sorry I'm so embarrassed right now." - You looked at your lap fidgeting with your fingers -"I should have never yelled at you like. It was very immature of me to accuse you of something you didn't do."

-"That's fine, darling"- he said looking back at you lowering his tone a bit -"Everything is fine between us?"

You looked at him with hope in your eyes. Oh how much you wanted to bring things to normal, how it was earlier when you were kids. -"Yeah everything is fine."

-"Smile my dear. You know you're never fully dressed without one!"

#human alastor x reader #human! alastor x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #alastor oneshot

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heavyhitterheaux · 1 year ago

Text

Call Her Daddy (NSFW)

First Lady of Private Garden Fic

AN: 🤭🤭🤭

Synopsis: Jack goes on the Call Her Daddy podcast and of course has to talk about his wife

Pairing: Husband!Jack Harlow x Wife!Reader

First Lady of Private Garden Masterlist

DO NOT ENGAGE IF UNDERAGE

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

“Jack, it's about damn time you showed up for an episode of my podcast.” Alex said after the both of them sat down and got comfortable where the podcast recording would take place.

“What can I say? I'm a busy man. And it's good to be here.”

“Definitely busy seeing as you just recently put a total of three babies in your wife, but we'll get to that later. We're focusing on you, first.”

“Look, I can't help it if my wife is fine as hell. Might as well go hard or go home.” He replied while shrugging and of course Alex laughed.

“Don't worry, you'll get to talk about how much you love your wife in due time because we know that’s a running theme with you. But first, I want to know more about Jack Harlow. Did you always want to be a rapper? And where did that drive come from?”

“Always wanted to be one and I remember selling my CD's back in middle school. My mom was a heavy influence on that and she would freestyle with me in the car when she would drive me to like soccer practice and different things like that.”

“That's so cute and adorable that your mom influenced you. Now when people think of rap, Kentucky isn't really the first place people think of.”

“Not at all and I'm from Louisville and a lot of people don't know that it is literally an entire city. When people hear Kentucky, the first thing that they think of is some back roads country ass shit when it's not.” He answered as he thought about when he first started and some people would tell him that he would never make it out Kentucky let alone Louisville.

“And did a lot of people support you? Or did they try to discourage you? How was that growing up there?”

“It was about half and half. A lot of people were confident that I was going to make something of myself, but others weren’t. But I’ve been serious about this shit from day one and it’s slowly but surely paying off. My girl wouldn’t let me quit for nothing even if sometimes I wanted to.”

“Now, what were you like in high school? Were you the popular jock, the nerd, part of the science club? Did the girls fall out over you?” Alex asked while getting comfortable in her chair and adjusting.

“I mean I always had friends and I wasn’t the one who would be stuffed into lockers or some shit. Like with certain things people knew not to mess with me. And it always seemed like girls always liked me, but when I set my eyes on one, that was it. It was a done deal. We weren’t even together yet and people knew that she was mine and they would respect it.”

“So, I want to ask you since you said that about people knowing that she was your girl and respecting it. Now we are talking about the First Lady, correct?”

“The fucking one and only. Had my eyes on her ever since I was fourteen.”

“A little birdie told me about you hiding a boy’s clothes after gym was over because he liked her and wouldn’t leave her alone? Not baby Jack getting jealous.” Alex said while laughing and Jack soon joined in along with her.

“Look, he asked for it and I didn’t have a problem with him after that. Like dude get the fuck away from my girl.”

“And what did she do when she found out?”

“She never found out until we moved to Atlanta after we graduated so she had absolutely no idea. But, she definitely got on my ass. But she’s not so innocent either, but you’ll have to ask her about that.”

“Yeah, she’s definitely the next person I need to have on here. Now what is the album that you think is your best work or the one that you are most proud of?”

“Hmm, Jackman hands down. No features, just me talking and getting my feelings out. I was able to be home in Louisville with my wife for about a year and a half and I took that time to reset and get my mind right because a lot of shit had been going on and happening around us and I felt that it was important for me to do that, but now we’re back to making the catchy shit that people can really vibe to and feel good music so I’m excited for this new era.”

“Lovin’ On Me! Now I am loving your new song and I notice that it says I don't like no whips and chains and you can’t tie me down. So no whips and chains in the Harlow household?”

“I… look I have a story about that. It’s not the fact that there’s absolutely none because at one point in time there was.”

“Damn, do I need popcorn for this because I feel like I need popcorn for this.” Alex added while busting out laughing.

“So, I tie her up, blindfold her, we got the nipple clamps, all that shit, and I handcuff myself to her to get her to stop moving and I lost the key in the process. So, she notices that I get quiet and she’s freaking out asking me what’s wrong and when I finally tell her she’s like call Urban. He’s our best friend who lived with us at the time and he has seen some wild shit and I know he’s so fucking tired of us. So with my free hand, I use my phone to call him and he comes and sees what the situation is, finds the key and leaves us there and goes to sleep because we had woken him up and he was pissed. So he just left us there until the morning.”

“I LITERALLY CANNOT! But, was it really a punishment though? Handcuffed to your wife so I can imagine a few more rounds came after that?” Alex asked while wiggling her eyebrows.

“More than a few.”

“Now talk to me about the other wild shit that he has seen.”

All Jack did was hang his head as he busted out laughing.

“I… I don’t even know where to fucking start. Urb is always getting pulled into the middle of shit that he absolutely had nothing to do with.”

“That’s what best friends are for. Now, how do you feel about choking?”

“Anything she wants, I will do it. Nothing is off limits for her. I admit that it’s not my favorite thing in the world, but if it’s going to make her orgasm faster, I’m all for it. She definitely comes first. Pun intended.”

“Oh, so you’re all about putting her needs first in the bedroom?”

“And in life, that’s my baby and her needs and wants are always going to be met. Been doing that since we were fifteen when we were officially together.”

“Now you said nothing is off limits when it comes to her, so she’s just like ‘babe, let me peg you’.”

“No, absolutely not, no one is sticking anything up my ass. I love my wife through and through, but no. That’s a little too much for me. Come on Alex, I’m not that adventurous, my lyrics literally say ‘I’m vanilla baby’.”

“Well, I might have put an idea in your head that you’ll want to try with her later.”

“Nope.”

“Favorite sex position?”

“Do you…. Do you not know what they call me?” Jack curiously asked her in disbelief.

“No, what do they call you?”

“Missionary Jack.”

“Please shut up because literally no one calls you that, you call yourself that.”

“I swear that’s what they call me!”

“And who gave you that nickname?”

“If it was someone other than my wife then that’s a problem. She’s called me that since forever.”

“What do you like about it?”

“It’s underrated on so many levels. I swear my triplets were conceived in missionary. Because here’s my thing, I’m face to face with her, at one point her ankles are going to be behind her head or on top of my shoulders and I’m going the fuck in.”

“Well damn, what’s her favorite position? I’m going to get her on here, but I want to hear it from you.”

“She likes to think that she’s in control, so she likes to ride me. But she knows who runs this shit. My kids aren’t the only ones who call me daddy.” Jack responded while smirking and all Alex did was playfully roll her eyes.

“Your wife is going to get you for that one and I’m going to let her have at it.”

“Yeah that’s how it all starts and it’ll end with me fucking her brains out like it always does.”

“You’re going to be in for it when this is over. Hmm, kinks?”

“I love praising her because I know it makes her reach her peak faster, but definitely a spit kink.”

“OH! TELL ME MORE! I am intrigued!”

“Alex, you are funny as shit.”

“I’m serious! Out with it.”

“Spitting in her mouth and watching her swallow it.”

“Are you sure you’re as vanilla as you say you are, because? Yeah I’m going to need wifey here to get her perspective. Do you think she’s ever faked an orgasm while you were in her? Would you be able to tell?”

“I know her body inside and out and she better not do that shit and have me find out about it. But, I don’t think she has.”

“Hand jobs, blow jobs?”

“Fuck yeah, I love me a good hand job or blow job.”

“Craziest place that you’ve gotten one or had sex period?”

“On a plane to Australia. We thought everyone was asleep, but of course everyone except Urb. This was what I meant when he is always getting caught in the middle of some shit that has nothing to do with him. It was difficult because I’m so tall, but we made it work.”

“What would an erotic vacation look like for you?”

“Definitely fucking her brains out non stop in some tropical ass location. We’re not leaving our room for the entire time that we’re there.”

“Ooohh, now if you could have sex in any location in the world, where would it be?”

“Hmm, I never really thought about it. Maybe some exotic ass shit like behind a waterfall or something. But, I was also thinking the white house lawn because I don’t mind an audience.”

“NOT THE WHITE HOUSE LAWN!”

“YOU ASKED!”

“Have you ever had or thought about trying tantric sex?”

“I’ve never really thought much about it, but I would have to do my research. If wifey wants it, I’m down.”

“She really does wear the pants in your relationship, huh?”

“Alex, like I said before, you’re funny and no she doesn’t.”

“I literally do not think that anyone will agree with you. If I were to do a poll right now, everyone will probably say that she does.”

“I let her think that she does.”

“Mmm hmm, sure. Now what is your dirtiest sexual fantasy?”

“I don’t even know since I’m pretty adventurous when it comes to it and not many things are off limits.”

You had just gotten to the hotel that Jack was staying at while he was filming for his episode of the Call Her Daddy podcast when you decided to surprise him. He had been going non stop since the release of his new single and getting ready to go on The Kentucky Tour.

Of course Urban was with him and sent you a text saying that he was almost done and you promptly took a quick shower and slipped on one of Jack’s favorite lingerie sets which happened to be black and purple. You threw on your black silk robe in case you got cold and simply laid out on the bed and played on your phone waiting for your husband.

You had fallen asleep waiting for him when you felt him reach down and place a kiss on your lips and your eyes fluttered open.

“What are you doing here?” He playfully asked as he was now kneeling on the bed in front of you and playing with the ties on your black silk robe.

“I wanted to surprise my husband since he’s been working so hard and I figured you would want a little time to have me to yourself.” You answered while motioning for him to lean down so that you could kiss him which he quickly did.

As Jack deepened the kiss, he took the opportunity to undo your robe and took in the sight of you in front of him.

“A sight that I can never get tired of seeing.”

He started to kiss down your neck when you lightly pushed him away from you and flipped the two of you over as you went to undo his pants and slide down his boxer briefs.

“Last night on the phone with you wasn’t enough and I decided that I wanted you in my mouth as soon as possible.”

The night before, Jack was complaining about missing you so just like you had done many times before, you gave him a show which ended up with him cumming multiple times as he watched you.

Jack had now tossed his shirt to the other side of the room and you had gotten his boxer briefs completely off before taking him in your mouth painfully slow making him grab the back of your head and buck his hips towards you.

“Baby, do not fucking tease me right now. All I basically did was talk about how good I fuck you in that podcast and we need to get to it before I fucking bust. This shit is starting to hurt and take that lingerie off.” Jack whined as you were making yourself comfortable.

Before taking him back in your mouth, you did as you were told.

“Patience, my love. You know that I’m always going to make it worthwhile.” You answered him as you went back to pleasuring him with your mouth and your eyes began to water as you felt him reach the back of your throat.

You were taking your slow sweet time and even though Jack was getting annoyed, he was in entirely too much pleasure to say anything at the moment knowing that when he finally did cum in your mouth that it would be worth it.

“Ahh fuck. Come on baby, go a little faster than that.” Jack pleaded with you, but then you took him out of your mouth and went to the edge of the bed and laid down upside down.

“Get over here and face fuck me then.” You said while giggling and Jack wasted no time getting in front of you and sliding himself back into your mouth while throwing his head back in pleasure.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, ohhhh shiiiiit.”

Jack had now taken a hold of both sides of your face and began moving in and out of your mouth as you reached down to play with your clit knowing that if he saw you playing with yourself that he would cum faster.

“Come on baby, open that pretty mouth of yours wider for me. You can take more of me, you’re doing such a good job.”

You did as you were told and inserted two fingers while still continuing to play with your clit with the opposite hand as you felt the spit from your mouth leaking down the sides of it.

“You playing with your pussy for me? Add another finger for daddy.”

Listening to Jack, you added another finger as he reached down to spit on your clit which made you increase the pace of your fingers.

You couldn’t help but to moan while Jack was still in your mouth and knew that you were going to reach your peak soon.

And as if right on cue, you heard Jack.

“Fuck, baby.” He tightly held onto you as you hit your peak and felt the cum shooting down your throat and out the sides of your mouth, but you continued sucking him off not showing him any mercy.

“Hold on!”

You shook your head no as you continued to move him in and out of your mouth, but finally let up when you felt another load shoot into your mouth and quickly swallowed it. Jack slightly moved away from you as you sat up and turned around to face him smirking.

“Wait until I get your ass for doing that.” Was all he said as you reached up to kiss him. You caught him off guard as you reached down and slowly began to jerk him off when he broke the kiss and looked down at you.

“Get your ass to the top of the bed and spread your legs so I have enough room.”

You moved until you reached the top as Jack hovered over you and simply looked down at you to admire you.

“What, babe?” You asked as you were now beginning to shy away from him, but all he did was lightly grab your face and kiss you.

“Nothing, it’s just my wife is so gorgeous and I’m about to have her screaming at the top of her lungs with how good I’m about to make her feel.” He answered as he began to rub small circles along your clit and reached down to kiss you while slipping his tongue in your mouth.

When you least expected it, he slowly entered you making you gasp against his lips which he quickly quieted you with another kiss as he began to move.

“Look at my pretty girl taking this dick.”

Jack then lifted your legs so that they were on the top of his shoulders and began pounding into you making you gasp as he caught you in another kiss.

“Shiiiit.” Was all you could mutter as you wrapped your arms around Jack’s neck as both of your noses were touching.

As Jack continued to keep the same pace, he kept his eyes on you and simply smirked.

“Open your mouth.”

You felt warm liquid slide down the back of your throat as he continued to move and place small kisses along your breasts.

On your right breast, he placed a small kiss and bit down and continued to suck on the same spot as you were letting out a series of curses and whimpers.

That was going to leave a mark, but you would deal with that later.

Jack then reached down to play with your clit and he quickly went to suck on your other breast knowing that he would have you come undone in front of him in less than a minute.

“Fuck, baby. Don’t stop, don’t stop.”

Jack then felt a rush of warm liquid hit the bottom part of his stomach and smirked as he reached up to kiss you.

As you were slowing down your breathing, Jack continued to rub small circles along your clit while kissing down your neck.

Once you felt that you recovered enough, you reached over to the bedside table and pulled out a bottle of lube that you had brought and handed it to Jack as you moved to get on all fours.

All he did was smirk at you before opening the bottle as you were making yourself comfortable in front of him.

You had only done anal a handful of times, but you found yourself wanting it more and more lately and of course, Jack wasn’t opposed.

“Baby, remember you have to relax so I can get in easier.” You heard him say as he was getting ready behind you.

“Yes, I know.” You softly answered as you felt the tip.

Jack noticed he was meeting resistance so he added more lube and had you arch your back a little bit more before trying again.

He was moving in slowly and didn’t hear anything from you which had him concerned and he simply stopped.

“Baby, you okay? You aren’t saying anything.”

“I’m fine, just keep going.”

After a few minutes, he was fully in and gave you a minute to adjust and made sure that you were okay.

“You ready for me to move?”

All you did was nod towards him as you felt him moving in and out of you.

“You’re doing so good, you’re doing so good for me baby. Arch your back a tiny bit more.”

Complying, you slowly but surely started to notice how good it felt as Jack reached down and you felt him insert what felt like a vibrator in you.

You had no idea when he had time to get it, but you weren’t in any way, shape, or form complaining.

“Babeee, oh fuck.”

“Got a new toy to use on you.”

Between the vibrator and Jack pleasuring you, you felt your legs begin to get weak and the perfect arch that you had once had was forgotten as you were trying to hold yourself up.

Jack noticed this and instead of turning the vibrator down and decreasing his pace, he did the opposite and turned it up while increasing his pace making you scream out.

“Baby…. Mmm… fuck I can’t…”

“Yes you can and you will, arch your back for me. Such a good girl.”

Jack reached down to play with your clit and your orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks making you scream out as he slid out and released all over your back.

He then slid the vibrator out of you as you collapsed on your stomach and reached down to kiss your neck.

“You okay, down there? You were so good for me.”

You let out something of a groan letting him know that you were okay and he instantly laughed while sliding off the bed and pulling you by the ankles so that you were at the end of the bed and Jack was on his knees.

“Get on your knees for me because we are nowhere near done.”

This made you do a double take as you looked back at him in confusion.

“You didn’t think you were about to come all this way and I wasn’t going to taste my wife’s pussy, did you? Spread them damn legs.”

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daechwitatamic · 8 months ago

Text

Vice;Grip || chapter 5 || chs

(banner by @itaeewon)

Vice;Grip (masterpost) NSFW - minors DNI Genre: angst smut fluff, fuckbuddies!au Summary: Make it not hurt, you could have asked him. Or, at least, make it hurt in a way I choose. A/N: infinite thank you's to @sailoryooons and @eoieopda for beta-ing!!

Warnings: Frequent depictions of depression, depressive episodes, panic attacks, and substance abuse (alcohol, weed, and pills referenced). PLEASE know that these characters’ relationships with drugs and alcohol are not healthy and should not be emulated. If these topics are triggering to you, please consider sitting this one out.

Section Specific Warnings: language, depictions of depression and depressive episodes, mentions of doctors' offices and medication, angst, mentions of attending therapy, recreational drinking, kissing

wc: 6.9k

Playlist: you can call me in the middle of the night / you can leave before i wake up in the morning / and it could feel so wrong / but i'll still hold on

Now - Fall

Vernon’s watching his ceiling fan when his phone chimes - a noise he isn’t fond of: incoming email.

For the last few months, his emails have all been from recruiting directors and head-hunters - either thanking him for his interest but regretfully informing him they’ve gone in a different direction, or head-hunters pretending they found him a great opportunity when it was really an underpaid, short-term position where he’d spend more on his commute into the city than he’d ever earn.

It’s been real fun. He sucked it up and finished grad school, threw his diploma behind a cheap frame, added the degree to his resume. Quit going to classes (because there weren’t any), quit spending whole nights on assignments (none of those anymore either), and still - he finds himself no happier than he’d been before, even with all the free time in the world. So maybe, he considers, grad school wasn’t the problem, and he’d done the right thing to just push through and finish.

On top of this - on top of the fact that he was still bored with life, still unenthused to be here - the break-up has sucked, just to make things even bleaker for him.

Can he even call it a break-up? You were never together. But it’s been nine days since he made you cry in his car - not that he’s counting - and all nine of them have fucking sucked. He’s wrestled with indecision for all of them - did he make a mistake? Should he try to undo the damage? Wasn’t what he had with you still better than being alone?

But he knows this will be better for him in the end. He knows that what you two were doing together wasn’t real, wasn’t a relationship. It couldn’t grow with him - it was stagnant by nature. So, even though something in his bones screams at him to take it back, in the end he doesn’t regret the decision to try and do something better.

He does regret that he can’t do something better with you. He regrets that he lost his temper and yelled, regrets that he was cold in his last moments with you.

Regrets that he spent two years walking towards a dead end.

Still misses you, despite this.

He picks up his phone and scrolls to his email, already feeling the frown take over his face in anticipation of another rejection. As expected, the email is from a company he’d interviewed with last week - he’d even gotten to a second in-person round, which was rare. Still, he hadn’t wanted to get excited about it. He knows how unlikely it is that they’ll want him.

Dear Mr. Chwe,

Our team was delighted to meet with you last week. We found your background impressive, especially your internship experience with -

Vernon’s eyes skim the page, so fast the words are a blur.

…Would like to formally offer you the position of… annual salary of… additional opportunities within the company including traveling to… working with… reporting to… expected start date of… we are looking forward to having you on our team!

Vernon’s heart thuds and he turns the screen off and stares at his ceiling again. He’ll answer it later, accept it graciously, call his eomma, probably shop online for some button-downs and maybe some ties. Later, though. Later. For now, he reaches for his lighter.

He kind of wishes he could tell you - hey, I got a job offer. hey, guess who gets to wear a suit five days a week now? hey, all that bullshit paid off in the end.

Would he have texted you any of that if he hadn’t ended things? You’d never talked about this kind of thing - that had been part of the problem.

Still. As illogical as it is, you’re the one Vernon wants to tell first. It aches a little, like sore muscles but somewhere inside him, behind his brittle ribs.

He wonders if you’re doing okay. He wonders if you care at all, or if you’re fine. He turns his lighter over and over in his fingers, and then realizes he’s just read the words contingent on... drug test…

“Fuck,” he grumbles, then picks up his phone again. Maybe he’ll call his mother first, after all.

—

You were never a big fan of autumn. A lot of your friends are - the season shifts and everyone starts posting about sweater weather and PSLs, the aesthetics suddenly revolving around pumpkins and ghosts.

You have plenty of ghosts, but not the right kind.

Your phantoms haunt your phone, mostly. You feel it buzz in your pocket, hear it vibrate on the table from the other room. Sometimes you even wake up from a dead sleep, sure you’ve heard it going off, reaching for it frantically, only to turn on the screen and see nothing.

No missed calls, no new texts.

You dream about him, too. In some of them, you’re still fighting, yelling at the top of your lungs in a way you never had in real life. In some, he isn’t even present - you just know he’s missing. In some, you’re trying to get to him, but never can - stopped by nonsense laws of dream physics.

In one of them, you tell him you love him, and he staggers backwards, breaths starting to rasp the way they had when you’d talked him through a panic attack, like he was just as scared of the admission as you had been.

Maybe he had been just as scared about it, back when it had mattered. Maybe he was just better at handling it than you are.

You never see his whole face in your dreams - only glimpses, fragments. You don’t want to examine if that means anything.

You fucking hate your brain.

You’re starting to hate your phone, too.

—

You lose November to grey - the whole month, a wash. You miss three days of work, unable to do anything - unable to cook, unable to get dressed. You feed the cat because you have to, and it’s the only reason you leave your bed except to pee.

When the grey days break as December dawns, you follow an impulse and schedule an appointment with your primary physician through their app. As you click the button to confirm the appointment, you burst into tears, loud and embarrassing. You cry with abandon, pulling your hoodie up to cover your face, to muffle the noise that you can’t stop.

You should have gone to a doctor years ago, and you know it. It feels like a big deal. It feels like a potential mistake - like opening a can of worms and now you have to deal with them. It feels like admitting something is wrong when you’ve worked so hard to look like nothing is. It feels like a farce, like nothing that bad is wrong with you, and you’re wasting everyone’s time.

But you keep the appointment anyway. You make yourself small in the chair on the other side of your doctor’s little table, and you admit, eyes on your hands, “I want to talk about my mental health. I think I’ve been dealing with depressive episodes. For… a long time, now.”

It’s so damn scary. As scary as loving and losing someone - like, yes, Vernon - had seemed. And you’re somehow surviving both.

Something to think about.

You buy yourself good job you did the scary thing ice cream on the way home. You go inside, put it away, and then scoop Nana off the couch, burying your face in his belly and cooing, “How is my favorite boy today?” He tolerates your nonsense with aplomb, as always.

Chan has never forgiven you for naming a cat “Banana Bread”, and you think that’s why Nana has never warmed up to him.

Nana loved Vernon, but you don’t want to think about that.

You kind of want to text him. You think he’d be proud of you for what you did today. You think he’d tell you good job.

(Chan would tell you good job, too, and will, when you call him later. But it doesn’t feel the same.)

You wonder if he’d answer if you told him. You wonder if he wouldn’t answer, but be proud of you anyway.

You fill the prescription, you leave your contact info with a therapist as advised by your primary physician. You don’t text Vernon.

You take your pride and your sadness, your fear and your hope and you channel them into greens and yellows. As late autumn grips the leafless trees outside, you paint something that looks like spring.

Now - Winter

Winter howls through your life like you personally pissed it off. You and Nana huddle under thick blankets with your tablet night after night.

Sometimes you close your eyes and remember Vernon’s hands slipping underneath his own hoodie on your skin; it helps you feel warmer.

Sometimes you think about the way he’d said the word wasted about the time he’d spent with you; it makes you feel cold all over again.

You click through all the tabs you’ve had open for days - different universities with decent visual arts programs, all advertising admission for the spring semester.

None of them are big name schools, not like the one you’d turned down all those years ago. But they aren’t nothing.

You’d brought it up to your therapist last week and she’d encouraged the idea - accepting that you can’t unstitch the mistakes in your tapestry, but you can control what new patterns emerge.

This was the plan: start classes. Open social media accounts to showcase your work. Network through school, look for job opportunities at galleries or for collectors. Open commissions, maybe.

On your best days, this seems like a list of goals to shoot for. On your worst days, this seems like a list of things you’ve already failed at before you’ve even started.

You text options to Chan, ask him, which school colors can you see me in?

Your best friend sends back, all of them. any of them. look at you go!!

You sit in your living room and watch snow fall lazily outside the window. You daydream about what classes might be like, if you get in. You take pictures of the snow in the park, then try to paint something similar once you’re home again.

You wonder if Vernon’s doing okay. You worry that he’s going through his hard days alone. You worry that maybe he’s not - maybe he found someone who helps him better than you did, maybe he’s so happy with them that he doesn’t have hard days at all.

(You know life doesn’t work like that.)

You paint Nana, just for shits, and post it on instagram. It gets the most engagement you’ve had so far. Someone messages you asking if you do commissions for pet portraits. You frown, looking at the message.

Maybe I do, you think.

Your apartment is cold. You burrow under blankets, rub your legs together like a cricket to warm them up, and think maybe after I’m a cicada, I could be a cricket next.

There’s no one to share the joke with who’d get it. Just another of the thousand ways you feel Vernon’s absence in your life. You hadn’t realized how much space he took up until he was gone.

—

Everywhere Vernon looks, all he sees are circles. The hands on his kitchen clock circle each other, align, move on again. They tell him he has two minutes to get out the door before he’s late.

He checks his appearance in the bathroom mirror, straightens his tie, smooths back his hair, then grabs his crossbody bag and heads for the bus.

The hands of the clock in his office mark his passage through his schedule: one circle until his 10:00 meeting will end. Two more after that and he can take a lunch break. A circle and a half until his one-on-one with his boss, to discuss his first few months here.

On his lunch break, Vernon rides with two of the guys he works with to some nature trails nearby, as they usually do. They swap suits for joggers and zip-ups, pop in airpods, and head out. Vernon didn’t run before this job - didn’t exercise much at all, really. He’d gone along with the guys the first time there had been an unseasonably warm day, just to be out, and he’d found it felt good to get fresh air and some endorphins before returning to his desk.

It’s cold today, the air brittle as he inhales, but the rest of his body feels warm as he works to keep up with the other guys. It’s not as hard as it used to be, keeping up.

The trail is a circle, too, passing a small, man-made lake before looping around back to the changing facilities. On his wrist, a fitness app closes circles to quantify his steps, his speed, his progress.

At home again, he runs his thumb around the edge of the circular joystick as he waits for Seungkwan and Wonwoo to sign in and join him for a round or two before he figures out dinner.

“Some of us were going to the bar tonight, you in?”

“Shouldn’t,” Vernon says. “But maybe this weekend?” Unfortunately, his new nine-to-five forces him to make decisions like this - better decisions. He kind of likes his job. He kind of doesn’t want to feel like shit in the morning.

His mind, a circle - always coming around back to you when it gets too quiet.

He opens his messages.

how have you been? … are you doing okay? … hey, i’m - … I think I’m sorry … what if we did it differently …

Of course he doesn’t send any of them. Instead, he searches for your instagram. You’d never followed each other in the first place, and he considers it a win that you didn’t block him when it was over. But you haven't posted anything that he can see in the last eight months.

Except - one post. It looks like your cat.

He clicks it and realizes that it’s not a photograph, but a painting, and the caption links to another account. He clicks that, too, and finds himself on a page that seems dedicated to posting paintings only.

Yours, apparently. He scrolls through slowly, rolling to his stomach so he can look more closely. He never knew you painted, let alone that you were good - great, even, to his untrained and certainly unbiased eyes.

Part of the problem, his mind chimes in.

Somehow, despite understanding each other better than anyone else in your lives, at the end of the day you hadn’t known each other at all.

Now - Spring

happy hour after lecture???

plsss can we

bestie YES!!!

The sender of the original invite - a girl close to your age called Juri - eyes you from two rows up, expectantly. Normally, you’d go straight home after class. But you’d been talking to your therapist about almost this exact situation - the way you closed people out, squandered friendships to the point that only Chan managed to hang onto you for more than a year. (Vernon had made it about two years, a sick voice in your head says, and then answers itself with, but you weren’t friends, anyway.)

So, you send the group chat, sure!

(You’d also been talking to your therapist about that last fight with Vernon. I can’t get that conversation out of my head, you told her.

I’ve been caring about you way more than I should, he’d said.

You’d been talking to her about how your brain had skipped like a flat stone right over that detail and had sunk deep on I don’t want to do this anymore.

“What did you think he meant?” she’d asked you, watching you carefully. “When he said do this, what did you think this was?”

Me, you’d whispered. Anything with me - hook up, sleep, spend time together, talk, anything.

She’d helped you see the context of the fight - that maybe by “I don’t want to do this” he’d meant “be with you but not with you”.

“Sounds fake, but okay,” you’d joked. She hadn’t laughed. Negative ten points at Therapy.

You were still working on trying to believe it.

You still weren’t sure if it fucking mattered what he meant, because instead of asking him, “what do you want, then?” you’d gone defensive, had greedily grabbed at the excuse to push him away, hard and careless. He wouldn’t want you back now, even if that’s what he’d wanted at the time. You were sure of it.)

Happy that you’ve agreed to go out, Juri flashes you a grin and then turns around in her seat to watch the board again.

The bar Juri chooses is cute, not crowded or noisy yet this early in the evening. You sip at a beer and talk with the girls about upcoming projects, about the professor you all can’t stand, about the term paper you all feel you shouldn’t have to do.

It’s nice, and honestly when you glance at the time and decide you’d better get home to feed Nana, you regret that you have to. Still, you make your way to the bar to pay for your portion.

You don’t even notice the lean, handsome man who sidles up next to you while you wait for your check until he speaks.

“What’s your drink?”

You look over at him, surprised. “Oh,” you say, which isn’t really an answer. “I’m leaving, actually.”

He gives an exaggerated frown. “It’s so early!”

You shrug. “Sorry. Places to be.”

He’s cute, you consider, as you pay your bill and head for the door. Two years ago, you probably would have picked up what he was putting down.

At home, you feed Nana, then collapse on the couch, pulling a throw blanket all the way over your head. Your stomach churns with discomfort.

You open your phone, find Vernon in your contacts.

You sit on his contact page, thumbs hovering over his number, for so long that your screen goes black twice while you stay locked in indecision.

Don’t call him don’t call him don’t call him.

But you’re lonely, and you miss him, and going out made you think of him, and you wonder what would happen if you did it, if you called. Would he even answer?

Eventually, you let reason win this time, and get up from the couch, the blanket falling from you like you’d shed a skin.

In your spare room, you eye the last painting you’d finished - mostly black but with a fractured, fragmented view of a tabletop littered with empty glasses and half-finished drinks, all the liquids a toxic, piercing neon pink. You hadn’t posted that one; it felt too much like an admission.

You stare down the empty canvas, tapping your mouth with the wooden end of a brush, deciding how to begin. You close your eyes and see the beast that’s followed you these last few years - even before Vernon. The embodiment of your shame, your regrets, your failures. It’s never left your side for long.

When you finally begin to paint it, you start with the claws.

—

you up for a 1v1?

arent you on a date???

obviously not.

you didn’t go? bro.

i went. it was just. idk.

it was just what?

idk dude.

you didn’t like her?

she was fine?? she was funny, and hot, and it was fine

so why are you home alone at 8:30 asking me to come online

Vernon rubs at his face in irritation. He doesn’t know what to say, how to explain to Seungkwan why the date had felt flat.

What could he say? It was fine. It just wasn’t… enough.

He could still remember how he’d felt the first night he met you. He wanted to feel that.

idk, he told Seungkwan. lack of chemistry, ig.

Now - Summer

You think you’ve learned a lot over the past few months - between starting classes again and beginning therapy, you’re just bursting with new knowledge.

Something you’re working on is appreciating the shadows.

In class, you work on shading, on adding darks even when you think an area should all be light. Sometimes, somehow, shadows are exactly what you need to make it right on the canvas.

You think about this concept for your whole drive home from therapy - how the shadows under trees change the way you see them, how the darks affect the lights, how the shadows in your own life are natural and maybe, in the end, not so catastrophic.

At home, you duck your head into the shadows under your bed and drag Nana out by the middle.

“Come be social,” you scold him, plopping him on the couch.

After dinner, you go back to work on what you were painting. You’d been stuck for a few days, not happy with any change you made, but today you have an idea.

You create a palette of black, grey, navy, and deep purple. For two hours, you work meticulously, adding the midnights, the bruises, the shadows. They belong here, too.

—

Chan tells you he’s proud of you, the next time he’s over, and it makes you cry even though you’re only one your second sip of wine.

“Stop it,” you scold, avoiding his gaze, burning up under the attention.

“I mean it,” he says seriously. “I’m so happy that you’re painting again, I could throw up. And going back to school? And therapy? Damn. The glow-up.”

“Ew,” you frown at him, because this feels safer than acknowledging that you have been working hard on yourself, on your life. “What year is it, 2017?”

He gives you a look to make sure you know that he sees through your bullshit.

“It’s not all perfect,” you admit quietly. You feel like it should - like you’ve done the work, and now you should get the happy ending. But it hasn’t worked that way. You’re still working at a job that feels like a waste of time, painting on the side. You’re accumulating some debt for the classes you’re taking. The grey days still come and go, though admittedly their grip is less intense.

And you still think of Vernon, near daily.

Chan shrugs. “That’s normal. Perfect isn’t real. It’s unattainable. If your therapist hasn’t told you that, then you’re wasting your money.”

You laugh. She had told you that. Another thing that was easier to say than to put into practice.

You recork the bottle after a second glass, put it in your fridge for another day. Returning to your spot by Chan’s side, you tell him, “I keep thinking about him.”

Chan cocks his head, probably unsure if you’re talking about who he thinks you are.

“The guy I was hooking up with.”

“Ah.” He inclines his head knowingly.

You recount what he already knows - that you’d been whatever you were for about two years, that it had ended. That it was your fault.

“I think,” you say, taking a deep breath mid-sentence to steel yourself for the truth, “I think I could have loved him. I don’t know… maybe I did.”

“Either you did or you didn’t,” Chan points out, which is fair.

“It’s just…” you say, thinking about it. “We kept our boundaries so tight. We didn’t talk during the day, didn’t meet each others’ friends or families… barely got to know anything about each other. But it was like… even so, I think we just understood each other. It was like a lot of it just went without saying.”

Chan considers this, face serious. “Sounds like the potential was there, at least. If nothing else.”

“Yeah,” you said sadly, tracing the bottom of your wine glass with your finger. “Potential.”

Wasted potential. You’d heard that plenty before, just not usually about your love life.

Chan reaches out and shakes your knee playfully. “It’ll happen again,” he promises.

You don’t know what would be worse - if it never did, or it did, but it wasn’t Vernon. You’d never believed in there only being one right person for you - like soulmates or shit like that. But looking back at your time together, you’re not sure anyone will ever have a hold over you the way Vernon did. The grip he had on your life was unshakable.

Before he leaves for the night, Chan hesitates by the door.

“Hey,” he says, “this weekend? A bunch of the guys are driving down to the beach for the day. Wanna join?”

Something else you would have said no to, before. You’re trying to say yes more, plus you can’t deny that the sea air and sunshine sound like heaven.

“Sure,” you say, shifting to block Nana from slipping out the front door as Chan opens it. “Text me the details.”

Later, you ask what you should have asked first. who all is coming?

Chan sends back the list - six of his friends, ending with, seungcheol-hyung and his friend hansol. i think you’ve met him once or twice at the bars? he’s a good guy.

Something in you knew this was going to be the answer. You counted your breaths, tried to talk yourself down from immediately bailing on the plan.

Sleep on it, you told yourself. See how you feel in a few days.

You followed your own directions, but for days your mind spun around the question, buzzing and frantic.

Are you ready to see Vernon? To be around him, and act normal? Is it a good idea? Will you fight? Will you fall back into old habits? Will he bring out the worst in you?

Actually, you consider, that isn’t fair. Vernon never brought out your bad habits - he just coexisted peacefully with them, never tried to kick them out.

You’re scared that seeing him will undo the work of getting over him. But that isn’t true, either - because you don’t think you moved on from him at all.

In the end, you do slip into old habits - you let yourself make a potentially bad decision. You decide to go.

A twisted, quiet part of you is kind of excited.

The louder part is scared to death.

—

The day is perfect - blue sky, barely any clouds, hot and bright. Chan drives you and two of his friends; a second car with the others is somewhere en route, will meet your group once you’re there.

Chan’s car arrives first, and you help the guys unpack the trunk. Loaded down with beach bags, chairs, and coolers, you make your way unsteadily through the sand, pausing at one point to take off your flip-flops, tired of how they slow you down in the dry, loose sand.

You pick a spot and lay the towels out, unfold the chairs, get the umbrella anchored down in the sand so it doesn’t fly away.

The whole time, you can’t stop watching the parking lot, waiting for the other group to arrive - waiting for the moment of truth. What will happen when Vernon sees you?

Once everything is set up, you lay out, trying to enjoy what is admittedly beautiful weather. It’s so bright that when you lay on your back, you want to throw an arm over your eyes to block out the light, to really relax.

It feels like forever when you hear a distant shout and sit up, blinking against the glare of the sun, returning your sunglasses to your face as you get your bearings. A group of Chan’s friends approaches, one of them - Mingyu, you think - shouting hello and waving like a fool.

You stand to greet them, waving hi when they get close enough. You bite your lip nervously and glance at Vernon. He’s near the back of the group - their car had brought four people, just like yours - and his face is absolutely unreadable as he looks at you. It reminds you of the beginning, when you noticed how hard he works to keep his expression blank.

He’d stopped doing that with you, near the end. You’d almost forgotten.

Meeting and holding his gaze, you give him a solemn nod. I can be normal if you can, you try to promise, silently.

The moment is tense; you aren’t sure how he’ll react. Then, he gives you his own tiny nod back.

Relief melts through you like butter. Seeing him aches, but it isn’t unmanageable. You can do this - you’ll both be okay. You’ll both get through the day.

You help set up a second umbrella while a few of the guys move a few yards away to set up a volleyball net.

For a few hours they play volleyball. You sit on your towel with airpods in and watch, trying not to notice Vernon, trying to keep that part of your brain locked tight in its little box. But the sunlight streams down, not half as blinding as his smile as he jokes and laughs with Chan and Seungcheol, nowhere near as glittering as his laugh when he doubles over, elbows on his knees.

The sun is almost directly overhead when you get warm enough to brave the ocean.

“I’m gonna swim for a few,” you announce, standing and brushing some loose sand from your thighs.

Chan collapses on his towel, next to yours, pushing his hair back and heaving a deep breath, exhausted from volleyball.

“Maybe in a few,” he wheezes. “I need a minute.”

“I’ll go,” Soonyoung says, tossing his sunglasses onto his towel so he doesn’t lose them in the ocean.

You head down to where the waves are breaking onto the wet sand, foamy water dancing up to your ankles before retreating into the deep sea again. It’s cold, but under the midday sun the cold is welcome. You wade until you hit the awkward point where it’s hard to stand without being constantly battered by breaking waves, and then you duck underneath the surface and swim past the breaking point.

Treading water, you turn to see if Soonyoung made it out with you. He’s still back a bit, jumping each time a wave comes through. Beside him, Mingyu splutters, having taken a wave to his face. A few feet back, the water only at their knees, Vernon and Chan laugh maniacally.

You missed those goose honks.

The guys take their time catching up to you until all five of you are treading.

“Do you think there are jellyfish?” Soonyoung asks, peering into the water behind you.

“Probably,” Vernon deadpans, and you laugh, then immediately wonder if you shouldn’t. Luckily, he grins at you appreciatively as, behind him, Chan points out that there could be sharks, too.

“I’ll probably go back in soon,” Soonyoung says, trying to sound cavalier, but his unease shines through.

“We’re fine,” you promise. “You don’t have to out-swim the shark. You just have to out-swim Chan.”

Chan curses and splashes water at you as the others laugh.

You talk and float for a little longer until you consider the goosebumps on your limbs, the growl in your stomach.

“Anyone interested in lunch?” you ask.

Mingyu raises his arm and squints at his watch. “It is one,” he says. “I could eat. What did you guys bring?”

Chan starts rattling off what’s in your coolers as you start to make your way back to shore. You reach the point where your feet touch the sand, only to get slammed in the back by an incoming wave. You stumble a little, and someone holds your elbow steady, helping you stagger through it without completely tripping.

You give Vernon a grateful smile as he retracts his hand, but your stomach is swooping and your arm is burning where he’d held you.

Rejoining the others, you plop down on your towel, suddenly exhausted. The ocean water drying on your skin under the sun makes you shiver as you dig through the cooler. You pass out drinks to the guys closest to you, toss a bag of chips at Seungkwan when he asks for them, then settle back on your own towel to eat.

After, full and happy, you flop backwards and put airpods back in. Seungkwan and Soonyoung head back to the volleyball net. Mingyu and Chan seem content to bake in the sun, like you, and beyond them the others have circled up and are playing a card game, open cans of beer in the sand beside them.

You feel truly at peace, and you take a moment to ask the universe - can I hold onto this? Can I remember, when things go grey, that these moments exist?

Once you’re warm again, you pull your shorts back on and whack Chan on the arm. He startles awake, pushing his sunglasses up to glare at you.

“I’m going to walk up the beach for a little,” you tell him, pointing, just so somewhere will know where you are. He nods, his head sinking back down to his towel, eyes closing again.

You walk where the waves flood over your feet every few minutes, never getting higher than your ankles. You search for shells as you go, carrying one or two, but mostly stopping to take pictures of them and leaving them where they are, wanting to paint them later.

There are four shells in your hand when you hear someone call your name. You turn, surprised, and your stomach swoops again; Vernon approaches, hat twisted backwards and sunglasses perched over the top of it, one hand reaching out to show you a shell he’d found.

You hold still, you let him come to you. When he’s close enough, you hold open your hand and let him drop the shell there. It’s a mostly-white spiral top.

“Thanks,” you say, looking away from the shell to meet Vernon’s eyes.

He looks down at the other four in your hands. “You gonna paint them?”

You feel yourself physically take a step back in shock. “What?”

Embarrassment darkens his face just slightly. “I’ve been following your art page,” he admits, shoving his hands into his shorts pockets. “I didn’t know.” Then, “I feel bad that I didn’t know. You’re really good.”

You shake your head. “I wasn’t painting when we… I used to. I stopped for a long time. Just started again, after…” You trail off. After you left me. After I pushed you away.

He nods, licks his lips. “Does it help?” he asks, and you know exactly what he’s asking - does it make the rocks weigh less, does it make the grey lighter?

“Yeah,” you say, nodding. “In general. It’s been… kind of cathartic.”

You both stand there, the shells on your palms between you, a decision teetering between you.

You should be the one to mend it, you think, since you were the one who’d ruined it before.

“Do you want to walk with me?” you ask, a little tentatively. “You don’t have to - I’m fine on my own -”

“I’d like to,” he says, voice quiet, and something about it makes you want to well up - that he’s willing to give you his time, that he doesn’t hate you as much as you deserve.

You walk quietly together as the sun starts to sink a little, casting everything a bit orange.

“What’s new with you?” you ask, finally.

And he tells you - new job that he actually likes despite how stuffy the nine-to-five thing sounds in theory, new mile time on his daily run, new friends through work.

“And you?”

You fill him in, telling him about taking classes part-time around your job, the commissions that aren’t enough to sustain you but aren’t nothing - you even shyly admit that you’ve been seeing a therapist.

It was the most either of you had ever talked about your real lives, you thought. It struck you how normal it felt, like it wasn’t something new or novel.

“Sounds like things are coming together for you,” he says.

“You, too,” you return.

Everything between you sits heavy, weighing the moment down, pulling towards the ocean’s depths like an anchor.

Then, at the same time, you break.

“It’s good to see you again.”

“Vernon, I’m really sorry.”

He stops walking, turns to face you, aglow as the golden hour inches closer. The sun is warm on your skin, the sand is warm beneath your feet, and you are dying to make it right with him.

“It’s good to see you, too,” you whisper. You’re scared of this moment - scared it will burst, like a bubble, like waking up from a dream that you can’t get back.

“Don’t be sorry,” he counters. “We both screwed up.”

You shake your head, feeling your throat tighten with emotion. “No,” you say emphatically. “You had every right to be mad. You were right that you were wasting time.”

He glances down, mouth pulling into a frown. “I’m sorry I said that to you. It wasn’t a waste.”

“Maybe not entirely,” you allow. “But you were right. I was never going to give you what you wanted - not back then, not with… how I was. That last fight we had… it would have been so easy for me to just let you in, and everything would have been fine. And I just… couldn’t.”

He listens seriously, watching your face carefully. You look at your feet in the sand, feeling the beginning trickles of shame down your spine. But you remember that the beast can’t get you - you’d locked him on a canvas. You don’t succumb to him in these moments anymore - you take a breath and remember that you’ve grown since then.

“And -” you swallow, take a breath, “- and I’m sorry. You deserve so much better than that.”

He nods, slowly, his eyes suddenly on the ocean. You watch his throat work, and your stomach clenches in regret. Then, he says, “I should have been clearer with you - way sooner than I was.”

“I’m not sure it would have changed anything,” you admit sadly.

He nods again, agreeing. “Still,” he says.

Still.

“I really like your paintings,” he says, and then laughs at himself before you can respond. “Sorry, that sounded so lame. I don’t know the art terms or anything. I just… like them.”

You smile despite how serious the conversation had felt only seconds ago. “Thanks,” you say shyly.

“What’s the best thing you’ve learned in your classes?” he asks, stepping a little closer.

You don’t even have to think about it. “Shadows,” you say simply, looking up at him. “Even the brightest painting is nothing without the shadows.”

His smile grows slowly, and you know he gets it. Of course he does. He’s been in the trenches right alongside you.

“I thought about you a lot,” he admits, and you realize how close you’re standing. Had you been standing this close the whole time?

“I did, too,” you murmur, heart hammering.

His fingers brush up your sun-warmed arm, and you shiver despite the heat.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, voice low, a little unsure.

He’d never asked before.

You nod, unable to speak, lifting up to meet him halfway. He kisses you like he never had before - featherlight, gentle, like you’re the most fragile thing.

Neither of you say anything after, but as you start walking back towards the guys, you slip your hand into his, and he gives it a squeeze.

You’re still hand in hand when you reach the towels, and you watch Chan clock it out of the corner of his eyes. He doesn’t call you out, and you promise yourself that you’ll give him the conversation you owe him - later. When you’re alone.

You stay a few more hours; the guys play a little more volleyball, you sit on the towels and fill pages in your sketchbook. You draw Vernon - all angles, so sharp, so beautiful.

When the sun sinks low enough, the guys start packing things up, and you help haul everything back towards the cars.

As you slam the trunk of Chan’s car shut, you turn to find Vernon waiting.

“What about now?” he asks.

“What?”

“You said not back then,” he explains. “You said back then you couldn’t give me what I wanted. What about now?”

The question lands like a mine. “I don’t know,” you say, as honest as you can be. “Vernon, I don’t know. I’m scared - I’m scared I’ll hurt you again, mess it up again. I don’t know what I can promise you.”

He considers this. “Okay,” he says finally, in that easy way of his. “What if I don’t want a promise? What if I just want to know… what’re you doing next Saturday?”

You and him, you’d existed only at night. You’d never done this before - considered dating, considered giving him more than just the hours between midnight and three am. You’d never considered letting him be him and not just one of your many vices, one of your distractions, one of the things you used to hide from how broken you felt. But here, now, with the summer sun beating down on your shoulders, you take in his whole, unfragmented face and see how open it is, how willing he is to meet you where you are.

You’ve been missing out on so much, you think. It’s about time to stand in the light - with him. With him, you could try.

“Nothing,” you say, smiling up at him. “You got a suggestion?”

“Yeah,” he says, sending you a wink as he starts to back away, the car keys jingling in his hand. “I know a place.”

<- Prev

thank you so much for reading my veyr first svt fic!! i hope to write many more in the future :)

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andre-and-cal · 26 days ago

Note

trans Andre hcs 🙏🙏🙏 (freaky + non freaky)

YESSS I WAS WAITING FOR THIS ASK 😼

Im not trans myself, but I hope these could feel somewhat realistic :3

Trans Andre Kriegman

SFW

Andre is attached to the concept of masculine presentation. He desires having a bulkier frame and a flatter chest, but a lot of the time he feels discouraged. He sulks in his room while flipping through fitness & health magazines, with the big gym-going models standing all burly and confident within the pages. Sometimes, Andre wishes he could look like that. He doesn’t want to look like a body builder, of course— he just wants to have a good deal of muscle on his body. That’s kind of why he joined the track team, after all.

In addition, he feels like he was born in the wrong body, and sometimes he wears baggy clothing to hide any physical features he feels insecure toward— like his curves, even though curves are natural in all human bodies. He feels jealous of people who were born male. He envies those who don’t have breasts or a vagina. He envies those who have a deep voice. Andre has been trying to train his voice, though, to deepen it to his liking. He’s made some progress, but he has to keep it to a minimum with society being iffy toward folks who feel similarly to Andre.

Andre felt like himself the first time he cut his hair short. His haircut was really choppy and janky though, considering Andre is not a stylist, so his mom had to bring him to the hairdresser to correct his haircut. The way he got it fixed up is the way he has it now.

Andre and his dad don’t have the best relationship toward the matter. Andre is closest to his mom, as she accepted Andre for his gender identity. While she accidentally slips up here and there, she puts forth the conscious effort to refer to Andre as a male. Even if Mrs. Kriegman doesn’t seem she cares, she does. Andre is a momma’s boy no doubt. But Mr. Kriegman is a whole different story. The way he grew up, with his generation and all— he doesn’t really see Andre’s feelings toward his gender as being valid, per se. He doesn’t see his feelings as being valid because he thinks that Andre is just in a “phase”… even though that “phase” has lasted ever since he was a child. Also, when Andre was younger, he tried to talk to his older brother about it. However, his brother didn’t react the way Andre wanted him to— instead, he reacted with contempt and judgement.

While Cal did make some unintentionally transphobic remarks when Andre first discussed his gender identity with him, he made an effort to understand. After all, Cal doesn’t really care about Andre’s “fleshly” characteristics as much as he does about his psyche. He’s still the same Andre Kriegman he’s known from middle school. Still, Andre felt quite hurt inside from Cal’s initial assumptions and generalization.

NSFW

Sometimes, Cal calls Andre’s clit and nipples “buttons” to help him feel better about his body, especially when he’s in a lower, more insecure and agitated mood. But he also wants to understand where Andre’s bodily hatred stems from, since they’re comrades. Cal doesn’t really see the problem that Andre has with his body; he essentially just sees Andre as a dude with different parts. Calvin’s teenage boy hormones partly prompted him to grow extremely infatuated with his body, especially after the first time they saw each other naked. So he absolutely gets a little too rough with Andre during their intimacy, even when he’s trying to go slower or gentler. Because he practically salivates at the sight of Andre’s chest, and he tries to grab a handful of them when they’re getting heated.

The first time they had sex, Cal helped Andre take his clothes off, assuring he won’t judge. Cal silently judges other people, but rarely judges Andre. If he is, he’s saying it to his face. Moreover, Cal was like one of those guys who “can’t find the clit”. He couldn’t find Andre’s clit or figure out how to make him feel good— but he was trying. Andre had to help him, had to guide his hand down to his cunt so he could find his sweet spots. When Calvin’s fingers slithered further, it hurt a little and felt slightly uncomfortable for Andre with Cal’s clumsy, slender fingers probing inside him. Andre never really liked to touch himself all that much, never really liked to look at himself down “south”. However, Cal somewhat helped him out of that mindset.

Calvin enjoys mumbling to Andre about how cute and handsome he is while his dick is lodged deep inside his pussy, while Andre is moaning and squirming and needy for more. Andre has always feared not being in control and that he wouldn’t be seen as “manly” if he was vulnerable, especially during intimate moments such as sex, but it feels different with Cal now. Calvin has no problem showing Andre how much he affects him, how attractive he really is, and it really does impact Andre’s self-esteem for the better.

When Andre is in control, he’s usually seen between Cal’s legs, sucking him off nice and sloppy. Cal’s hands are tangled in his hair, and he whimpers every time his cock goes too deep inside Andre’s mouth, practically to his throat, with Andre gagging around his shaft. Andre needed to learn how to suck dick too, though. So Cal kind of taught Andre how to do so, with Andre learning on his own from hesitantly licking Cal’s dick at first, which soon morphed into full on sucking and then taking him deeper into his mouth.

Like mentioned prior, Cal is very handsy. Andre still feels a little tense whenever Calvin grabs his breasts or hips. It’s not that he doesn’t want Cal to touch him— that’s not the case at all. It’s just… he wants himself to have more features that he feels comfortable with for Calvin to grab instead. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy Cal’s hands all over him though. After all, there’s pink dragonfruit and white dragonfruit. Even if they may have different characteristics about them, they’re still dragonfruit. :)

#zero day #andre kriegman #cal gabriel #calvin gabriel #zero day 2003 #zero day movie #caldre #calvin and andre #andre and cal #cal and andre #ben coccio #cal zero day #calvin zero day #zero day cal #andre zero day #zero day andre #zd #trans andre kriegman

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aramynx · 2 months ago

Text

ALL IS FAIR IN LOVE AND WAR

KATSUKI BAKUGO X READER

You and Katsuki have known each other since middle school, and have always notoriously been at each others' throats as naturally gifted students. Things take a frustrating turn when you both end up at UA, as those darned teenage hormones begin to run high…

a/n: if i told you that katsuki wasn't my favourite would you believe me? <3

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.* *.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.* *.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

previous • part 3 • part 4

To put it nicely, Katsuki was pissed. And quite frankly, so were you. For some unknown reason, he had started avoiding you like the plague since that training session. You were sure you hadn’t gone too far when teasing him, so what was his deal? Even when you tried to speak to him, he wouldn’t even tell you to get lost, he’d just get up and leave! Typical Katsuki, getting pissed off and giving the silent treatment.

Since he had stopped speaking to you, you had started talking to Izuku more than before- you’d known him the same amount of time as you’d known Katsuki, but you hadn’t grown quite as close with him throughout middle school.

“Hey Izuku, would you mind if I sit with your group at lunch?” You asked, smiling at the freckled boy who was tidying away his burnt-up notebook carefully.

“We’d be happy for you to join us, but is something going on between you and Kacchan?” He asked, a look of concern creeping onto his face. As usual, he was very ovservant.

Katsuki’s ears perked up at the nickname from the door of the classroom, where he stood beside Kirishima, bag slung over his shoulder. You hanging around that damn nerd only pissed him off more and more every day.

“I don’t mean to pry! It’s just unusual that you and Kacchan haven’t been together recently.” He explained, waving his jands frantically as you let out a sigh and crossed your arms.

“Well, for some unknown reason, Bakugo has decided he isn’t talking to me anymore.” You said loudly with frustration, hoping that Katsuki would hear you.

“Oh. I see; that’s strange.” Izuku said, putting his hand to his chin in thought before your voice snapped him out of his chain of thought.

“Hey, ‘Zuku?” You tapped his shoulder, “Sorry to burst your thought bubble but we should probably get going before the cafeteria gets too busy.”

“Right! Let’s go.”

Izuku smiled, standing up and walking you over to Iida and Uraraka who were waiting by the door for him. As you walked across the classroom beside Izuku, you felt a hard glare piercing through you, but brushed it off as you made your way to the cafeteria with Izuku and his friends.

✧ ✦ ✧

“Uhh dude?”

Katsuki’s eyes lingered on the door you had just walked out of, his ears falling deaf to the student beside him.

“Bakugo?”

Kirishima reached over to tap Katsuki’s shoulder, only for his hand to be immediately swatted away as Katsuki’s trance was broken.

“Why aren’t you talking to Y/N?” Kirishima questioned, “I thought you guys were like, good friends.”

“As if.” Katsuki scoffed, “What I do is none of your business anyway, Shitty Hair.”

“Avoiding your problems and ignoring someone isn’t very manly, dude. Did you even think about how Y/N feels?”

Kirishima looked forwards at Katsuki, an expression of concern clouding his usually smiley face as he attempted to reason with his ‘friend’.

“Shut the hell up, there’s nothing going on!” Katsuki yelled, walking out of the classroom alone, and down the corridor.

Katsuki took a sharp breath and sighed as he turned the corner of the empty hall, walking himself into a dark passage with a dead end. He stood in the shadow of the wall, leaning up against the concrete with his head down, staring blankly into the ground. His palms were sweaty; sweatier than usual.

When did everything get so damn difficult?

He dragged in another deep breath, releasing it shakily as he felt his leg tremble. Yes, he was pissed off, he was also upset, and confused, but that only made him more pissed off.

Why couldn’t he talk to you?

“Hey.”

Katsuki looked up from the ground, eyes finding their way towards a spiky, ‘shitty’-haired figure standing in the middle of the hallway.

“Listen man, if something’s going on and you need to talk, you can talk to me.”

“I don’t need to talk.” Katsuki snapped, walking towards him and barging his shoulder as he walked by, pausing for only a second as they stood back to back.

“Whatever you say, but my offer still stands.” Kirishima said firmly, not turning to face Katsuki.

Katsuki scoffed, leaving Kirishima in the darkness of the hallway as he made his own way down the the cafeteria. His head felt like it was spinning, his stomach felt like it was going to turn itself inside out, and his palms were still so goddamn sweaty, no matter how many times he wiped them on the inside of his pockets. His chest ached at the smile you gave to Izuku back in the classroom, but why?

As he dragged himself into the cafeteria alone, his eyes managed to find their way over to you through the waves of students passing by in groups, locking onto your smile as his posture slightly straightened.

Your smile.

But it wasn’t directed at him, this time. That was the smile you’d give when he teased you about trivial little things that made you laugh, the one that you showed him that night you stayed over with him and Izuku in middle school, playing Mario Kart until you fell asleep sitting up against the couch. He watched as you sat in the centre of the cafeteria, beside Deku, opposite that stuck-up glasses nerd and pink cheeks, smiling and laughing so much that there were tears in your eyes.

Katsuki felt himself tense up- his chest tightening as he looked on, hardly able to force himself to tear his eyes away from you. Somehow, it was still better than talking to you. Talking to you made him stomach twist, he felt constantly on edge, anxious. You made his chest burn and his palms sweat, his brain would just go into overdrive and he couldn’t even combat your teasing. You made him act… completely unlike himself.

Katsuki sighed, clenching his fists in his pockets as he turned around.

Maybe… If I keep ignoring you... This will go away… I’ll go back to normal.

As he dragged himself through the corridors, his brain overflowing with thoughts, he felt a vibration in his pocket.

Who the fuck is it now?

Katsuki pulled his phone from his pocket, eyes fixated on the message preview on his lock screen, accompanied by a time and location;

“Kacchan, we need to talk.”

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.* *.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.* *.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

taglist: @sikuthealien @bitchyfestivalbouquet @marsoverthestars

#bnha #mha x reader #my hero academia #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou

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pedroshotwifey · 5 months ago

Text

Trouble in Paradise (Part One)

Pairing: DBF!Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: Of all the things you thought you might be doing on your summer break, falling in love with your father's best friend in Hawaii wasn't one of them.

Tags/Warnings: Nothing crazy yet! Some kind of maybe tension, pet names, talk of Joel knowing reader since she was small, reader has a dad, mom is not mentioned, yadayada

A/N: Hello my friends! I'm terribly sorry I've been away for so long. There have been a lot of...unsavory happenings lately. Want to say sorry in advance because I know this isn't my best writing, but i'm trying to get back into the groove of things. I'm hoping I'll be back to my scheduled programming (TTF, FB, answering requests) by the time this short series is done. Expecting it to be around 3-5 parts. Thank you so much for sticking with me <3

*******

You’ve been laying in your bed blasting your “chill” playlist through your earbuds since you got home from school around five. The last exhausting day of your freshman college year. Lana Del Rey, Cigarettes After Sex, Hozier, and the like have been floating lazily through your head as you watched the sun go down.

After a long day, you’d hung your head off the foot of your bed, intent to bask in the golden glow of the evening in a baggy T and your underwear until your eyes shut for the night. You were almost asleep when you were interrupted by a sound that didn’t quite go with “Wicked Game”.

You yank your earbuds out, sitting up on your bed. You don’t remember it getting so dark. Your cracked window allows the late summer breeze in to gently rustle the curtains framing it. Crickets and cicadas chirp loudly outside, creating a symphony to compliment the stars shining through the inky sky.

“Sweetheart?”

Your head swivels to look accusingly at your closed door. The name was shouted from the stairway. Definitely your dad.

You roll your eyes but get out of bed. The clock on your nightstand tells you it’s 8:02pm, so he’s probably calling you for dinner. You’ve told him before that it’s easier just to call your cell, but when has he ever listened? You pad to your door, crack it, and shout back.

“Be down in a minute!”

Getting no response, you can only assume he heard you. You close your door back and pick up the polka-dotted pajama pants crumpled into a pile beside your bed. You tug them on through a yawn, almost tripping a few times before they’re on all the way.

You check your mirror before heading down. You look sleepy, not like it really matters. Your door creeks as you push it open again and make your way down the stairs. The soft carpet laid in the middle of the hardwood keeping your steps quiet. It’s about halfway to the kitchen that you hear a second voice to your father’s. It sounds vaguely familiar, and your heart skips a beat. Surely it’s not—

You climb down a few more steps and stop in your tracks at the sight of Joel Miller sitting at your dinner table. You haven’t seen him since at least your high school graduation. You’d harbored a small crush on him then, but that had to have been nothing compared to whatever the hell you’re feeling now. Your entire body seems to glow with some mix of embarrassment and surprise.

You really thought you’d gotten over this silly little crush. Then again, it’s hard to get over something like Joel Miller. High school boyfriends? Sure, no problem. But the classic DILF next door of a best friend your dad has isn’t so easy. He’s been a constant in your childhood, always kind and there for you even when your dad wasn’t. So, in other words, highly inappropriate for you to be so attached to.

It’s easy to say the years have been kind to him. He’s a few years older than your father, so probably about mid-forties now. He’s started to gray, a fine amount of silver peppered into his mousy brown hair. That beard of his has taken the brunt of it, though. That beard you’ve imagined between your thighs so many times.

His dark eyes seem to have become kinder thanks to the crow’s feet carefully etched into the corners. He’s wearing his signature T-shirt and worn jeans, his brown leather jacket and work boots likely disposed of near the front door.

He smirks as his brown eyes fall on your disheveled form, halted on the bottom step. You, in contrast to the god-like figure he’s sporting, must look like an absolute mess. Despite that fact, he looks at you almost in a different way than he used to. More intensely. It makes you resist the urge to squirm.

“Joel,” you finally manage to choke out. “Hi.”

Smooth, you think.

“Hey, trouble,” he returns, light amusement lacing his tone. It makes you nervous, like he’s clocked your little secret.

He gets up from his seat, and you can tell he’s going for a hug. You shock yourself into action and take the few steps to reach him. He envelops you in his strong arms just like he used to, and you take the opportunity to breathe in his scent. Smokey pine, whiskey, and a hint of mint—just like you remember.

You’re smiling like an idiot despite yourself as you pull away. Luckily, your dad makes an appearance before you say something embarrassing.

“Hey, sleeping beauty,” he teases. “You remember my buddy Joel, dontch’a?”

Joel scoffs before you can answer. “‘Course she remembers me, Scott, known her since she was damn near in diapers.”

Your dad rolls his eyes. “Well, just to ask,” he argues.

You shake your head. Same banter between those two for as long as you can remember. They’ve been friends since your dad’s freshman highschool year, and Joel’s senior. Everyone who knows Joel and Scott considers them to be brothers as much as Joel and Tommy.

Cheeks heated, you make your way to the bathroom to freshen up while they’re distracted. You shut the door and comb through your hair with your fingers, straighten your tank top, and wipe away the smudged mascara you didn’t care to wash off earlier.

When you look half-decent, you wash your hands and walk back to the dining room, choosing to ignore the fact that you just tidied yourself for your dad’s best friend. Totally normal thing to do, right?

Joel is sitting back in the same spot as you found him the first time, your dad in the seat opposite of him. There are three bowls of spaghetti served, one in front of each man, and one beside Joel. You’re not going to complain about that.

You slide into the seat next to him, flashing him a quick smile when he turns his head to acknowledge you. You swear his gaze lingers for a second, but it’s probably just wishful thinking.

You look away and dig into your food, zoning out as Joel and your dad talk about work. Joel’s presence beside you fuels your daydreaming, his deep, drawling voice keeping it running. You wish so badly to lean into him, feel the comfort of his embrace. Maybe more. You wish, not for the first time, that he would look at you the way you looked at him. You wish he would—

You jolt when you hear your name in conversation, your spaghetti-filled fork halfway to your mouth.

“No, I don’t think she’d mind at all, would’ya, honey?”

Your dad looks expectantly at you. Your eyes dart between him and Joel.

“Uh, sorry, what?” You ask, your cheeks heating for the second time tonight.

“Helping Joel out. I know it’s been some years, but it’s just basic stuff. Plus, it’ll be in—”

“Really, Scott, you don’t have to volunteer her if she don’t want to—”

“No, no,” you interrupt. “I don’t mind at all.”

In all honesty, you didn’t think your answer through. You have no idea what you just signed up for. Though, if it’s with Joel, it can’t be too bad.

“No, really, sweetheart,” Joel interjects. “I wouldn’t wanna have a pretty ‘lil’ thing workin’ away on her summer vacation.”

You turn to look at him, flashing him your sweetest eyes. He called you pretty—you feel like you might explode. “I really don’t mind.”

He waits for a moment before he clears his throat and turns back to your dad. “Alright then,” he says before taking a sip of his drink. “We leave for Hawaii next Tuesday.”

You just about choke on your dinner. Your dad laughs.

“Told you, Joel, she doesn’t listen to a damn thing we say.”

*****

Hawaii? For two weeks? With Joel? What do you even pack?

You stare at your suitcase, waiting for your closet to help you out and throw something in there. Should you bring sundresses or work clothes? Both, right? Probably both. Maybe more work clothes. You said you’d be helping, after all. But with what?

God, you should have just paid attention to that damn conversation.

It’s late Monday night, and you haven’t been able to pick up on enough over-the-phone conversation to get the gist of it. You need to stop being such a wuss and just ask. But that would mean calling Joel. Do you really want to call Joel?

Well, yes, of course you do. But do you really want to sound awkward around Joel? No, no you don’t. And you know that’s exactly what would be happening over the phone with a man you’ve never talked over the phone with.

You groan, flopping yourself onto your bed to stare at your ceiling and overthink. You don’t want to overpack, because you don’t want Joel to see that you overpacked. But you also don’t want to underpack, because you don’t want Joel to see that you underpacked, either. This really shouldn’t be that hard. You’re about to get back up, say screw it, and throw a mixture in there, when you hear a knock on your door.

“Come in,” you call, unmoving.

“Hey, honey,” your dad says as he creeps in. “Just got off the phone with Joel.”

You sit up at this. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, he figured you might want some advice on what to pack.”

Oh thank God.

“Said he’s gonna be puttin’ you to work, but to bring some pretty clothes if you want. There’s a pool at the place you’ll be workin’ at, and a beach nearby.”

You nod along, thanking all that is holy that Joel had the idea to give you some input.

Your dad eyes your empty suitcase and raises a brow in your direction.

“He’ll be here around 4:00am, so be ready by then.” He looks back at you. “I love you, sweetheart, I’ll see you when you get back.”

He gives you a hug and closes your door.

You take Joel’s advice and pack mostly for work—with a few pretty things just in case.

*****

As expected, Joel’s truck is in your driveway at 4:00am on the dot. You’re in the passenger seat and headed for the airport by 4:03.

The ride is less tense than you thought it would be, mostly because the two of you are so tired. You’re practically in a coma against the window, the dull classic country music playing quietly from the old truck’s speakers lulling you to sleep. Joel is in about the same mindset, the lazy drumming of his fingers against the wheel the only thing convincing you he’s still awake.

Buildings pass in a dark blur, everything mushed together into one big half-dream. Joel’s scent fills the cab, sealing the state you’re in. You glance at the clock: 4:48. You blink, and it’s 5:20, the truck is stopped at the airport, and Joel is gently nudging you awake. You squint at him, the cab light rudely intruding, and you can just barely make out the faint smile on his lips. You have a strong urge to lean forward and kiss him, but thankfully you’re conscious enough to not make a complete fool of yourself right now.

“C’mon, darlin’, we got a plane to catch.”

You nod, trying to get your bearings. Joel slides out of his side of the truck, and you follow out of yours, getting a good stretch in before leaning back into the cab and retrieving your suitcase from the narrow backseat. When you make your way around the truck to Joel, he gently grabs it from your hand.

You look at him, mouth open and ready to argue, but he gives you a look that makes you shut it just as quick. Your stomach flutters at the gesture, and you kind of want to slap him for it. Or maybe yourself. Either way, you keep close to him until you’re entering through the sliding doors out front.

It only takes about an hour to get through TSA and in line to board the plane, but you’re wide awake by then. And hungry.

“Hey Joel,” you whisper. He hums at you but doesn’t look down.

“I’m hungry.”

Now he looks at you. “I don’t think we got time to grab anything now, darlin’, but we should have a layover at LAX in about three hours. Think you can hold tight ‘till then?”

You nod, trying not to overthink the conversation. It was literally a few words exchanged between the two of you, but it might be the first time you’ve conversed alone outside of your dad’s house. It felt domestic to you in a way that makes you feel like an idiot. It was one conversation.

Of course, you have to ruin the moment by humming “Party in the USA”. I mean, it’s Joel’s fault. He was the one to mention LAX.

He laughs and nudges you. “Quit that,” he commands, though you can tell he thinks it’s funny. You giggle but indulge him.

“Fine,” you draw out. “Somebody hates fun.”

He scoffs another laugh, but says nothing.

Finally, the two of you are next to board. You stop around the middle of the plane, and Joel hoists your bags into the compartment above your seats. Then, he moves aside to let you in first.

“By the window, darlin’,” he says.

You smile with excitement and settle in, Joel sitting next to you a second later.

“Your dad said somethin’ about it bein’ your first time flyin’, so I figured you might want a window seat,” he explains.

Your heart warms at this. Why does he have to be so thoughtful?

“Thank you, Joel,” you say genuinely, flashing him a smile. It may be the lighting, but you swear you see his cheeks pink up just a little before he nods and faces forward.

The flight goes by relatively quickly. Joel does some sort of paperwork on the little desk in front of him, and you pop your earbuds in and listen to a downloaded playlist while you read. The light romance you chose was cute, but it failed to distract you completely from the hunk of man beside you.

You’re not sure how many times you caught yourself staring at the flex of his wrist as he wrote whatever down. It was maybe once or twice that your eyes found their way up to his bicep, possibly a few times that they landed on his lower lip, his teeth bitten into it in concentration. You definitely got heated more times than you would’ve liked. And as your book started heating as well, you had to put it down. You really hope it’s not just you that feels this new tension.

For the last twenty minutes or so, you’ve been looking out the window, content to listen to your music and watch the land go by. For the last five, you’ve felt Joel’s eyes on you. You refuse to look back at him, though, just in case it’s your imagination.

But you swear you can feel the weight of his stare. You fidget, trying to ignore the feeling as you stare out the window and at the clouds. Then you hear a sharp sound from the speakers

through your earbuds.

You take them off and look back at Joel as the pilot informs you that you should be landing in about ten minutes.

He was staring at you, and he didn’t look away. You don’t look away now, either. You don’t say anything.

“Thank you for comin’ with me, darlin’.”

You’re taken aback. Of course you would go with him.

“It’s no problem, Joel,” you say. He gives you a short smile. “I mean, really,” you joke. “You’re the one taking me on a free vacation.”

He smiles fully this time and rolls his eyes. He tends to do that a lot with you. It makes you smile too.

The speaker dings again:

“Should be some light turbulence, but we’ll be on the ground soon, folks.”

Joel looks away after the announcement, gathering his work to put back into his bag. You shake yourself off and choose not to acknowledge whatever the hell that was.

******

You knew LAX would be busy, but. Holy shit. This place is insane.

You keep close to Joel as he navigates the two of you through the crowds and to your next gate. He keeps slightly in front of you, and you keep getting the urge to grab his hand to keep up, but you don’t. You don’t think you’ve ever seen this many people in one place—and you thought the Austin airport had been overwhelming.

There are a million shops and restaurants and gates as you make your way down the massive hallways, up and down the escalators, and through trains. It takes an hour and fifteen before you can even see the sign for your gate. Your legs hurt from walking, and your head hurts from all the noise.

You keep an eye on some of the closer restaurants you pass so that you can backtrack to them and grab a bagel or something before you have to get on your plane. You catch a glimpse of a Burger King when you’re suddenly slammed into.

You gasp as you’re sent flying onto your ass by a man who couldn’t be bothered to glance your way to see if you’re alright. Joel whips around and sets the bags down, quickly helping you up.

“Shit, are you alright, darlin’?” he asks, a deep concern in his eyes. Your cheeks are burning with embarrassment even though it wasn’t your fault.

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

Joel looks you up and down to make sure as you stand on your own two feet. He turns around, trying to scope out the man who bumped into you, and turns back when he finds that he’s long gone.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he finally says. “People don’t give a rat’s ass here.”

You nod, smiling at his choice of words. “I’m alright, Joel.”

He sighs and picks his bag back up, slinging the large weight over his shoulder, and then picks your suitcase up in one hand. WIth the other, he grabs onto yours. His hand is rough but warm and comforting.

“Just stay close ‘till we get to the gate.”

Practically glowing, you hold onto him and let him lead the way. It only takes a few more minutes before he’s telling you to sit down at the waiting area.

“I’m gonna grab you somethin’ to eat, ‘nd I’ll be right back.”

You decide to read while he’s on his errand, picking your book back up to a particularly smutty part. You’re not going to pretend like you aren’t picturing the characters as you and Joel as he eats her out on a countertop. You bite your lip, consuming each word with fervor.

You’re just finishing the chapter when Joel strolls up with two breakfast sandwiches, a coffee, and an orange juice. He hands you a sandwich and the latter drink, and takes the seat next to you with a groan.

“Probably have at least thirty minutes,” he grumbles.

You nod as you thank him and unwrap your sandwich. It’s silent for a few minutes, before you can’t bear it and break the peace.

“What all are we going to be doing?”

Joel looks at you, almost flustered. He must have misheard you. “Huh?”

“Like when we get there, what are we going to be working on?”

“Oh, uh,” he clears his throat and takes a sip of his coffee. “Mostly flooring ‘nd some drywall, but there should be somethin’ to do in the kitchen if I’m hearin’ right.”

You nod and take a bite of your sandwich. Joel continues.

“Should have a few days to relax, though, if we get everythin’ done in time.”

Your stomach flips at the thought. A few days to relax with Joel.

“Sounds easy enough,” you say.

Joel nods again. “Atta girl.”

“Flight 332 is ready to begin boarding.”

You and Joel take the last bites of your sandwich in silence and stand up to get in line once again. This flight is going to be longer, about six hours.

Joel throws your trash away and comes back to grab your bags. Same as last time, you have a seat by the window. Not like it matters much in the long run, because just after Joel takes his seat and the plane takes off, your head falls onto his shoulder, and you promptly fall asleep.

******

Thank you for reading!! Part two should be coming soon.

Itty bitty mini taglist: @callachloe @kewwrites @casa-boiardi @pastawench (love you guys)

Pls let me know if you would like to be tagged in pt. 2!

#pedro pascal #fan fiction #ao3 #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x reader #tlou fanfiction #joel tlou #joel miller the last of us #joel the last of us #the last of us hbo #fluff #x reader #dbf joel miller #dbf pedro pascal #dbf!joel

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