#this is going to end up being my most played song of 2024 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eoieopda · 4 months ago

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whiskey neat | jwy

there’s no common ground between yours and wooyoung’s vastly different circles. that is, until tuesday nights at the black cat form the center of the venn diagram.

pairing: jung wooyoung x reader au: strangers to something type: one-shot | smut wc: 8.3k rating: 18+ | minors do not have my consent to interact. cw: inspired by hozier’s “too sweet”, primarily wooyoung’s pov with one switch at the end; bartender!wooyoung, musician!reader, alcohol use, setting is a bar, uhhh wooyoung is a (to the tune of that arctic monkeys song) cigarette smoker, oral sex (v), protected sex (p in v), corruption kink kind of?, use of “sweetheart” (fatal). reader notes: afab (gender identity not designated); kind of naive; into fitness/“wellness” (no body type/weight is described, except wooyoung thinking they’re “strong” + reader thinking that they are in the best shape of their life); wears a sundress at the beginning. the following terms are used in the scenes involving smut: pussy, cunt, clit, tits (no description given). a/n: i quite literally started this in march 2024 and then experienced the most severe hobby death of all time. this is coming after five (5) months of scooping it out of my brain with a melon-baller, so… not my best, but here she is! thanks @sailoryooons for beta-ing because i’m self-conscious lately 🍤

Tuesday nights at the Black Cat never used to be busy.

For three years, Wooyoung spent the majority of his shifts behind the bar doing fuck all: Folding receipt paper into increasingly complicated and wasteful shapes; replacing citrus wedges that went unused and then brown; paying visits to the stray cat camping out in the alley near the dumpster. He’d go hours without talking to another human being, and he never took issue with it, even if his wallet did.

Two months ago, however, things changed.

Two months ago, management started panicking about the lack of revenue. To keep the lights on and draw in a crowd of (hopefully) soon-to-be regulars, they implemented a schedule of recurring events — some monthly, others weekly, most stupid.

Wooyoung’s precious solitude disappeared, and in its place, he got trivia nights and turntable DJs, showing off their collections of vinyls. Games of bingo targeting hipsters, who show up en masse to fight it out for prizes — potted plants, of all things — they could easily buy on their own for far less than their tabs’ totals. Themed brunches.

A million other events and just as many used glasses to wash.

Despite his ever-present scowl — his face just looks like that — it hasn’t been all bad. Without the newly-added acoustic sessions, the bar wouldn’t need a local performer to both play and host on a biweekly basis. Management wouldn’t have reached out to you; and you’d have no fucking reason to come to a dive like this. Suffice it to say, your pilates-practicing, daylight-disciplined circle of doers would never otherwise overlap with Wooyoung’s, in all its nocturnal, nicotine-dependent grit.

Tuesday nights at the Black Cat now occupy the center of the Venn diagram.

As usual, you come traipsing in half an hour before your set starts with a gig bag slung over your shoulder and a megawatt smile on your face. This is your natural state, he’s come to learn. Solar-powered. It shouldn’t be possible, but you manage to brighten further when your searching eyes find him sitting on the counter behind the register.

Through no fault of his own, Wooyoung’s gaze trails down from your face to the little sundress you’re wearing. It’s new, he notes immediately. The skirt of it flutters with each step you take, showing off more and more of your thighs as you move.

You don’t react to the migrating fabric. Just the same, you don’t notice his appraisal or the way patrons’ heads turn as you cross the bar.

No surprise there, he thinks.

From the four (4) entire conversations the two of you have had so far, you’ve made one thing abundantly clear: You’re inclined to assume the best of people and their intentions.

Nine times out of ten, Wooyoung dodges naivety like that the second it starts skipping his way, well-versed in the consequences of trusting so implicitly. You and your cotton-candy smile have proven to be the outlier, though. Working in tandem, you and that grin have him pinned where he sits with no urge to run.

You don’t notice that, either.

When you slide onto the stool across the bar from him, Wooyoung finally clocks what you’re holding. Your right hand grips some green concoction that he suspects was made with kale. Or moss? In your left hand, an iced Americano — beautifully black — weeps condensation onto manicured fingers, making hard-earned calluses glisten.

Wooyoung’s racing thoughts about those hands are still inflicting psychic damage when you lean further over the counter.

“Extra shot of espresso,” you hum as you hold the coffee out to him. You do your best to tease him, though you’re shy as hell about it, so the words still manage to come gently: “For those of us who were still awake when the sun came up.”

Wooyoung mentioned his coffee order several weeks ago in passing. It’s sweet in a way he’s not used to that you’ve not only remembered how he takes his coffee, but that you’ve brought it to him ever since, apropos of nothing, when all he’s ever done is his best to get a rise out of you. What he’s up to isn’t sweet — not by a long-shot — but it’s easily done and well worth the misplaced effort when he sees how flustered he can make you.

Wooyoung tilts his head, draws his lips in a straight line, and gestures to your cup with his. “Worry about those waking up shortly after sunrise, sweetheart. They’re drinking algae.”

As intended, you’re visibly affected by the pet name, so much so that you stumble over your defense. “It — it’s healthy!”

“It’s swampy.”

Your nose scrunches indignantly, prompting the edge of Wooyoung’s mouth to tick upwards. He doesn’t emote more than that. Five (5) conversations in now, and he’s already picked up on how much it gets to you when he only concedes a hint of a smirk.

As much as he’d relish the opportunity to sit here and keep toying with you, the crowd surrounding you has doubled in a matter of minutes. Just over your shoulder, Wooyoung sees a patron glance down at the screen of her phone to check the time; then, he hears the complaint she thinks is muttered quietly under her breath. It’s not. In fact, you hear it, too, and you divert your wide, heart-shaped eyes away from him. That smile of yours curves in the wrong direction once you do.

When you look back at him, you say, “I should go,” but he hears it for what it is: an apology.

He’s never been good at ending conversations — especially in the rare case that he’d prefer to keep one going — so he nods, leaves it at that. You pause for a nanosecond, as if you’ve got something else to add, but you don’t. You smooth down the back of your dress once you’ve hopped from the stool to your feet. Then, you mimic his gesture.

You make it two steps towards the stage before Wooyoung calls out to you, prompting you to spin back around and your dress to flutter:

“Thanks for the coffee, sweetheart.”

Your frown disappears instantly. The smile that replaces it is still there when you disappear into the crowd, only to resurface several seconds later on the tiny stage across the room.

Guitar now in hand, you duck your head through the woven strap, shuffling carefully closer to the microphone stand. You introduce yourself, strum a quiet, major chord, and chirp, “Welcome to both the Black Cat and my favorite day of the week.”

Normally, you leave shortly after your last set, as if you’ll turn into a pumpkin when the clock strikes ten. With the schedule you keep, it’s no wonder. From what Wooyoung has gathered so far, you wake up before dawn most days to get a workout in before heading to the office. The very idea makes him nauseous whenever he thinks too long about it, so he does his best not to.

Mornings are for sleeping, he told you once.

Life is for living, you’d replied.

Apparently, the two of you have drastically different ideas about what living looks like.

For Wooyoung, life on Tuesday nights looks like catering to a steadily dwindling crowd once you finish up and disappear with a friendly wave goodbye. It’s cleaning up sticky spills, resetting migrated stools, and doing a half-ass restock that will make the opener — him — complain about the closer — again, him — when his next shift starts at 5:00 PM on Wednesday.

In the gap between his shifts, life looks like meeting up with his similarly shadow-dwelling friends on someone’s balcony to chain-smoke, sip whiskey, and watch the sunrise until he gets bored. From there, it’s either walking back to his apartment or kicking said friends out of his, so he can rot in front of his PC. Eventually, life looks like blackout shades and crashing into bed while the world around him heads out for brunch.

Tonight, however, life is starting to look a little different.

When you wander over, it’s not to say goodnight or close out the tab you think you’ve accrued, which Wooyoung never opened in the first place.

Maybe, he thinks, you’ve finally caught on that all these “technical issues with the point-of-sale system” — occurring for the last four (4) shows in relation to one (1) patron in particular — can’t possibly be a coincidence. That a free drink given will always beget a free drink received. That Wooyoung doesn’t deal in unpaid debts, even if he hasn’t and won’t own up to his petty workplace theft.

You sidle up to his bar and slip back into the stool you’d previously occupied, no more aware of the way your sundress shifts now than you were earlier. Likewise, he’s no less blatant with the way he looks you up and down, eyes lingering unabashedly and hungrily. The pair of you float in each other’s orbit for a few moments just like this: waiting for the other to speak first.

“Don’t you go to yoga class at ass o’clock on Wednesdays?” He eventually inquires, leaning back against the counter behind him with his arms crossed and head tilted.

Your eyes flick down to the screen of your phone, which rests face-up on the bar between your elbows. You clock the time but not the way your current posture causes the neckline of your mostly modest dress to plunge. Conflict creases between your eyebrows, then you tilt your chin to look at him.

Wooyoung knows that look, although he’s never seen it on you before. That look begs to be talked into something, rather than out of it. It’s a look he gets often. For better or for worse, it’s one he never turns down.

“I do,” you admit through a sigh.

Offering nothing more than a hum to indicate his intrigue, Wooyoung watches you and waits patiently for you to elaborate. Another few seconds slip by without a word. His attention makes you shy, he notes; he loves it.

But he loves the idea of toying with you even more, so when you don’t say anything else, he takes that attention and diverts it to the few remaining patrons, all of whom have vested interest in closing out and getting out.

Good riddance, he thinks as the last of them stumbles out and away, leaving the two of you in charged silence.

Even more seconds pass.

Still nothing.

Wooyoung glances around and finds a bottle of Jameson on its very last leg. It’s the perfect amount for a litmus test — two shots left, nothing more to give and everything to prove. Snatching two overturned shot glasses from where they dry on a holed rubber mat, he empties the whiskey evenly and turns back to you with an eyebrow raised.

Your eyes widen slightly when he sets the spare on the bar in front of you, more so with interest than surprise. For a moment, you stare at it with the same ambivalent expression, nibbling thoughtfully on your lower lip.

Finally, you all but whisper, “I should’ve been in bed an hour ago.”

With his left palm flat against the bar, Wooyoung rests his weight and leans in, eyelids and voice dropping. “Why aren’t you?” He murmurs, gaze flicking down to your lips then back up again — just long enough for you to notice that he was, in fact, looking. “Hmm?”

Your breath hitches — just loudly enough for him to notice that you are, in fact, finding it hard to function this closely to him.

“On a school night, no less.” His eyes narrow teasingly.

“I’m asking myself the same question,” you confess, though you’re the picture of innocence. Your fingertip traces idly down the side of your shot glass, then back up again.

He’s as distracted by the mindless movement as you are, albeit for different reasons. Before he lets himself get carried away in wondering whether or not your touch is always that delicate, Wooyoung lifts his glass and gestures for you to do the same. “Sounds like you could use a bad influence.”

A soft clink permeates when your glasses touch, followed by a muted thump when the bottom of each one is tapped against the bar. Your heads are thrown back in unison, just like your drinks, and when your faces finally level out towards one another’s, you counter him breezily, “Maybe you could use a good one.”

Wooyoung thinks he could use more than that.

Breaking eye contact, you glance down at your phone again. It’s obvious that you’re second-guessing your decision to linger. He wants to chuck that brick in the bin with the other useless shit, to get rid of any excuse you might give for having to leave, but he doesn’t.

And you don’t give him an excuse.

Your hand wraps around that fucking phone, then you stand up slowly.

“Try not to stay up too late,” you advise with a smile that still manages to read like disappointment.

Don’t.

Reaching into the pocket of your jacket, you pull out the tips you made tonight and collect a few bills before dropping them on the counter to cover the shot you didn’t even order. Wooyoung wants to tell you not to — that your money isn’t good here, even if you are — but he knows it won’t make a difference.

You sling your gig bag over your shoulder, thank him, and tell him that you’ll see him in two weeks.

He scrubs his hands over his face the second you walk out the door and mutters through gritted teeth, “Fuck.”

You don’t see Wooyoung in two weeks.

As a matter of fact, you cancel your acoustic session for the first time ever. Management either doesn’t know why you bailed or doesn’t think it’s any of Wooyoung’s business, so no one bothers to tell him. If he’d ever thought to ask for your number, he could check in on you himself, but he didn’t and therefore can’t.

Ignorant and annoyed, he resigns himself to occupying an empty tavern on a goddamn Tuesday night, yet again.

Nobody brings him coffee.

Nobody worth talking to crosses the threshold.

No one makes little comments — genuine concerns poorly disguised as digs — when he uses the paring knife to carve little stars into the lip of the bar top, instead of slicing limes.

And when he gives up and closes down early, he’s so tired of his own shit that he simply goes home and goes to bed.

Bed being the operative word.

He doesn’t go to sleep, even though he has nothing better to do. Alternatively, Wooyoung replays your last interaction on a loop in his head, daydreaming about what could’ve happened if you’d stayed. While his thoughts spiral, his hand drifts, finds the pulse beneath the zipper of his jeans, and feels the throbbing ache building through the denim.

It’s pathetic.

He knows it.

Too bad that doesn’t stop him from fucking his fist every night for the next several, imagining how much softer yours must feel.

The patron pulls a face the absolute second Wooyoung slides her glass across the bar.

Wholly uninterested in the response one way or another, he slathers on his customer-service smile and asks her, “Alright?”, in a tone that doesn’t match his expression in the slightest.

“There’s no ice in it,” she mumbles, cringing in mild horror as she does. As if the liquor features his spit instead. “I wanted ice.”

There’s a split second where he almost lets his mask crack, says something shitty just because his mood was already sour before she walked over. Wooyoung doesn’t get the opportunity, however. Over the girl’s shoulder, someone gently intervenes: “Neat means no ice. You’d have needed to order it on the rocks.”

A beat passes, then comes, “Or — you know, with ice, please.”

Wooyoung neither hears nor cares what the girl says in response. She shuffles off, and that’s all that matters. Without her body blocking the way, he sees you clearly. You’re more done-up than usual, like you’ve just come from somewhere far nicer than here.

“It’s Saturday.”

Probably should’ve started with hello.

After eyeing the glowing, neon clock on the wall, Wooyoung notices that both hands are pointed skyward. He corrects himself, “Nah, it’s Sunday.”

You slip into the now-unoccupied stool ahead of him and nod, chuckling like you can’t believe it, either. When you settle in, you prop your elbow on the bar top, then your chin upon the heel of your hand. Just above, your eyes twinkle with a kind of mischief he’s never seen you wear before.

That might be the thin veil of tipsiness, actually.

Not that he’s complaining.

Wooyoung hides his amusement by bending over and rummaging through the under-counter refrigerator that hums beneath the register. The rush of cool air has nothing to do with how awake he suddenly feels. He wonders if you feel the same but can’t ask outright; eagerness isn’t his style.

“You’re here on purpose?” He asks instead, resurfacing with a bottle of soju — some new, fruity flavor he assumes you’ll like — and a raised eyebrow.

You hum appreciatively when you see what he’s holding. That soft sound that punches him right in the center of his chest with force. “I was out with friends, but…”

Your voice trails off, too distracted by his hand enveloping the seal-covered bottle cap. With a firm grip and quick twist, it’s gone. You’re still eyeing his hands, he notes, even though all they’re doing is holding the bottle.

Normally, he’d love to give you the benefit of the doubt and attribute your sudden fixation on the rings he wears. It wouldn’t be the first time a man in jewelry snags attention, complimentary or otherwise. Unfortunately — or maybe fortunately? — for you, Wooyoung forgot to put his usual accessories back on after this afternoon’s shower.

Nope, he thinks, biting back a wolfish grin. He’s not alone. You daydream about his touch, too.

Catching yourself staring, you shift atop your stool with a quiet, self-conscious laugh that sounds more like a sigh. He opts to let it go without further teasing, but he doesn’t let it go entirely. That breathy little noise echoes in his ears, drowning out the faint slosh of liquor as he fills your glass.

In a weak attempt to distract himself, he remembers your half-finished sentence and prompts with a low voice, “But?”

“They wanted to end the night.” You accept the glass into your hand from his and raise it slightly in thanks. “I didn’t,” you whisper, then bring the rim to your lips to cloak their upward curve.

Wooyoung would be lying if he said your tiny act of defiance didn’t send all the blood in his body rushing straight to his dick. Maybe it’s arrogant of him to assume that he’s the source of this newfound rebelliousness. The spark that lit the fuse, or whatever. Maybe that should bother him. Of course, it doesn’t.

In an effort to hide how strong of a chord your confession has struck, he gestures with one extended finger to the clock. Your eyes follow, and he leans in closer; the smirk you can’t see is still evident in his voice, he’s sure. “How much of a coincidence is it that you showed up right before the trains stop running?”

When your gaze flicks momentarily back to him, he spots a hint of surprise. This impeccable timing wasn’t a scheme at all, he realizes. Not a plot. If he had to bet, Wooyoung would guess that you’re never out late enough to know that the train schedule ends at all.

God, you’re going to give him a cavity.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Coincidentally, I know someone who gets off just in time to walk you home.”

“This gonna bother you?”

Having stepped out of the bar before Wooyoung, his question prompts you to look back over your shoulder at him, one eyebrow raised slightly out of curiosity. He lifts his right hand from his jacket pocket to reveal the half-spent pack of cigarettes he’d been storing there.

He expects it to, and to his surprise, he cares enough about that possibility that he doesn’t light up without asking in the way he normally would.

“In theory, yes,” you laugh, “because I’d prefer your lungs to be tar-free.”

“And in practice?”

You must not have expected him to note the distinction; you fluster. Grinning slightly, Wooyoung answers his own question on your behalf, “In practice, you find it kind of hot.”

He keeps his eyes on you as he pulls a cigarette from the pack — slowly, to test his hypothesis that you’ve got a thing for his hands — and then, Wooyoung slides the cardboard back into his pocket.

Your gaze follows while he gently places the filtered end between his lips. It stays put when he furnishes a lighter, holds the flame to the opposite side, and inhales. Turning his head to the side, Wooyoung exhales the smoke where it won’t reach you.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” he assures you, eyes devilish. Deer in headlights that you are, you freeze but for the bob of your throat as you swallow. “I won’t make you admit it out loud.”

Yet.

Once he’s decided that he’s played with you enough for the time being, two of you head south, ambling under streetlights without any sense of urgency. Making up for lost time, maybe; picking up where the last Tuesday left off.

He can’t tell if it’s the alcohol making you more talkative than usual, or if you’re feeling the rush of your off-brand decisions, but Wooyoung’s fine with it, either way. You tell him about your week — in full and without hesitation — like you’re chatting to a friend and not someone you’ve only just started to encounter on a brief, twice-monthly basis.

You had a date this Tuesday night, he learns. It didn’t go well. Too similar, you explain with a wave of your hand. According to you, it’s boring to sit with you at a dinner table. Wooyoung looks pointedly at you as soon as he hears it, noting his disagreement. For a second, you assume something he doesn’t mean: that he enjoys his own company more than you enjoy yours.

“No,” he corrects you. “I just can’t picture dinner with you as something boring.”

You duck your head, embarrassed. “Oh,” is all you manage in reply.

Wooyoung follows your lead across several more city blocks, hanging on every word you say in the meantime. When the pair of you reach the front of your apartment building, his cigarette is spent, but neither one of you is. He takes an extra step towards the garbage can near the door and drops the butt amidst the others in the lid, which doubles as an ashtray. A faint vein of smoke bleeds out until the dark sky laps it up entirely.

You look conflicted when he turns back in your direction. Clearly, you don’t want him to leave just yet, but asking him upstairs is likely way out of your pattern of behavior. Wooyoung sees two options: He could say goodnight and go; take a few steps towards his side of the city, and hope you to act even further out of character, or —

“If you’re asking, I’m saying yes.”

— he could go off-script entirely.

Your apartment looks exactly the way Wooyoung expected it to. Everything is cozy; a far cry from the modern and monochrome edge of his place. It all makes sense, based on what he’s learned about you so far. Feels like you, although he’ll concede that you haven’t been felt by him just yet.

Each shelf features a tchotchke or framed photograph — or several — but not a single speck of dust. Likewise, the various potted plants you’ve displayed artfully around the space are well-kept. Flourishing, he assumes, despite the fact that he doesn’t know shit about fuck when it comes to plants.

His shoes, ratty in comparison to yours, are toed off at the door before he follows you further into the kitchen. You stop at the island, bottom lip between your teeth once again. Unsure, you nibble on it, like it’ll help you set your dizzy mind straight.

When Wooyoung inches closer to you, he does it slowly, even though every part of his body demands that he ramp up the pace. As badly as he wants his hands — and his teeth, and his tongue…— all over you now, he can’t be the jump scare that sets your little bunny heart to sprinting. The adrenaline is practically vibrating off your frame already with every step he takes in your direction.

Though you could, you don’t move further away, the nearer he gets. You stay put with the small of your back against the lip of the granite counter, hypnotized. Right where he wants you.

Once he’s close enough, Wooyoung tests the waters. You let him; your gaze clings to him so strongly that he feels the weight of it without reciprocating. With his thumb and forefinger, he traces the belt loop closest to your left hip, then tugs slightly, making your breath quicken for a moment.

Eyes still focused on his own ministrations, he murmurs, “Am I the first stray you’ve ever brought home?”

You don’t answer with words. His gaze flicks upwards, and from under heavy-lidded eyes, he sees the tiny nod.

“Full of surprises.” He looks down again, purposely depriving you of eye contact, and moves his fingers from your belt loop so that the pad of his thumb brushes over the top of your jeans. There, the skin of your hip peeks out from under the denim, hot to the touch. “Not just sweet, are you?”

“Someone told me I needed a bad influence.”

The sudden re-introduction of your voice pulls his focus. You stare back at him boldly, and it feels like a dare. Both of his hands move to your hips now, simultaneously guiding you closer to his chest and keeping you pinned between his body and the island.

“You’ll miss your Sunday morning pilates, I fear,” he tuts with a slight shake of his head.

“You’ll make attending redundant, I hope.”

And then your mouth is on his, all tongue and teeth, while you card desperate fingers through his hair. It occurs to him, as he licks into your mouth, that the split-dyed strands you're clinging to are a microcosm.

Black and white.

Conflicting tastes, like sugar and salt, that only make sense together in certain contexts. Like this one — right here, right now — with the two of you tangled up in your half-lit kitchen, so caught up in exploration that inhibition takes the backseat. Steeping in the aftertaste of soju and cigarette smoke, scent heady like arousal.

You break the kiss to catch your breath but can’t make it very far. His teeth claim your bottom lip, pulling forth the softest little growl he’s ever heard.

“Fuck,” he echoes with a growl of his own.

That’s it. Breathing is overrated. Wooyoung’s ready to suffocate, so long as you let him.

“Lay back on the counter.”

You’re stunned into silence for a second, and while you blink back at him, he wonders if you’ll actually let him eat you out where you eat. It’s objectively filthy, he knows, but he might drop dead where he stands if he has to wait another second — or take another step elsewhere — before he tastes you.

Your answer is a leap, figuratively and literally. The hands you’ve been using to cling to him each flatten palm-down on the island behind you. With his grip on your hips to boost you, you scramble to your new stage; and you shatter the conservative expectations he had for you in the process.

A newfound confidence flashes in your eyes, making his stomach flip and his dick twitch. A patronizing frown graces your kiss-bitten lips. “You didn’t walk three kilometers here just to look at me, did you?”

He sure as shit didn’t. Still, he can’t help but bask in the odd sense of pride he feels in staring up at you on the pedestal he put you on. The more time you spend with him, the rougher you seem to get around the edges; and he’d be lying through his teeth if he said he didn’t love the grit.

In lieu of a verbal response, Wooyoung locks eyes with you and gestures downward with the index finger of his right hand. You follow his silent command eagerly and without question; he keeps the praise you’ve earned on the tip of his tongue, saving it for later.

It takes less time than he expects to strip you of your jeans, most of which is attributed to slipping them off your ankles and dropping them blindly over his shoulder. They hit what he believes to be the range with a soft twack, then a barely audible crumple when they finally find the floor.

Your lace underwear disappears in a similar fashion, albeit more eagerly. Couldn’t be helped, he thinks. That scrap of fabric was the last barrier between him and the thing he’s been craving most since he met you; and fuck, if you don’t exceed his expectations once again.

“Christ,” is all he can say.

It’s rare to find a pussy so perfect that it wipes out his vocabulary, let alone makes him want to weep. That’s exactly what’s waiting for him when you spread your thighs wide enough to accommodate his body between them. Really, the only thing driving him more insane than the sight of you is the thought of how many self-imposed rules you’ve broken to get to this point — the self-discipline you’ve thrown out the window on your way down to him.

He accepts the invitation, descends upon your wet heat like a man starved, and loops his arms underneath your thighs. Immediately, your thighs tighten around the sides of his head, muffling the groan that slips out of him the second your taste hits his tongue. Just the same, you’ve got him drunk in an instant while he laves his way through folds sweeter than cherry wine.

From under his own lashes, he looks up and sees yours flutter at the sensation of his lips encircling your clit and suckling slowly, deeply.

“Oh, my g-god,” you hiccup before your fingers are in his hair again, nails scratching perfectly along his scalp. “You’re so —”

Wooyoung’s wickedly curved lips are slick in more ways than one, though he doubts you can see them through all those stars in your eyes. You don’t see the switch-up coming, either. Unwilling to let you race too far ahead of him, he scales it back, trading his deep pulls for targeted kitten licks.

“— evil.”

Your frustration rings out with a tortured whine. Wooyoung can’t blame you; he knows he’s cruel for guiding you so close to the edge, right out of the gate, then refusing to send you off of it. But he has to draw this out as long as he can, savor what he can for however long you give him.

And to your credit, you take it well.

You give, too, offering up the moans, whimpers, and sighs he couldn’t have dreamed up correctly if he tried.

Well…

Wooyoung did try. Gave it his best shot, even, but his imagination fell short. He knows that now. The pitch was wrong, the timing was off, and he failed to anticipate just how badly it’d fuck him up to feel you grinding against his tongue. To have your fingers tied off in his hair, refusing to accept anything less than closeness.

That particular chorus swells for the first time when he unwinds his right arm from where it secures your left thigh; and his middle finger slides into your cunt, curls upwards to greet that spongy patch of nerves along your front wall.

Eyes swimming with previously untapped desire, you look so pitifully perfect. Only breaking eye contact to throw your head back, you start to wail, “Wooyoung, I —”

But the rest of that thought must turn to static before you can finish it. Charged silence settles in its place, save for your ragged breathing. All the while, his tongue never lets up on your poor, abused clit, though your arousal already has him coated, leaking down over the knuckle.

A particularly needy tug of his hair seeks what you can’t verbalize.

More.

Closer.

When he adds his ring finger to fuck you further open for him, you can’t keep his name from spilling out of your mouth. Wooyoung starts to sound like a summoning spell; an invocation repeated so desperately that he just might give you what you want.

“W-Wooyoung, please,” you choke out, hips bucking up to chase his mouth. “I’m so close!”

The fact that you’re downright begging — on the brink of tears, no less — goes straight to his head. He lets up for a moment to purr, “Since you asked so nicely…”

The hand he doesn’t have half-buried in your heat grips your right hip, hard, securing you against the granite. It’s for the best, really. You jolt so much when he finally lets you cum that you could’ve knocked him out otherwise.

Not that he’d complain.

When the aftershocks peter out, and you gain back some control of your trembling limbs, you collapse back onto the countertop, chest heaving as your breath struggles to even out. One leg stays put, hinged over his shoulder, the best kind of dead weight; the other pools off the edge of the island, hanging limply.

Before pulling away entirely, Wooyoung presses an open-mouthed kiss to the soft skin of your inner thigh, suckling slightly — just enough to leave a calling card, though he doesn’t want anyone but you to know it’s there.

“You fucking menace.”

Your eyes flutter open and catch the way he’s grinning, the lower half of his face otherwise shining with a mix of spit and slick. With you watching intently, he licks his lips, simpering, “Think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you swear.”

“Deserved.” You sigh contentedly and close your eyes again for a second, but the blissed-out look on your face doesn’t dissipate.

Wooyoung wonders if you’re holding onto the image of him between your thighs, replaying it behind your lids. The sight of you is going to haunt him — then and now, before and after. Even if your stamina is depleted now, his appetite’s been sated. He can survive off of this moment alone for weeks if necessary.

But you summon the strength to stretch your arms over your head, to moan breathily while you arch your back off the counter and ease the tension in your muscles. Then, in a burst of vitality, you sit upright. Eyes alight, you give him a smile to match.

“Help me down?”

As if he’d say no to a question asked that sweetly.

You wobble when your feet touch the ground again and thank him when he snakes an arm around your waist to steady you. With a nod in the direction of what Wooyoung assumes is your bedroom, you beckon him, “Come with me.”

“That’s been the plan, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes at him — another first — and take his hand in yours. Fingers intertwined, you lead and he follows through the adjoining living room towards a door on the far side of the apartment. The pair of you barely cross the threshold into your bedroom before you turn and tug his hand, pulling him into a kiss.

“Do me a favor,” you murmur against his lips.

Wooyoung has no questions about that — the answer is yes, no matter what the favor is — but there is something he’s wondering about: when you open your mouth against his, can you taste yourself on his tongue?

Distracted by that thought, and the way your free hand makes its way to the button of his jeans, he nods. It gives him the opportunity to swallow down the groan that builds in his chest when you squeeze his still-clothed cock.

Your mouth leaves his then, drops to the side of his neck. Something about the light nip of your teeth below his ear makes his resolve start to crumble. It only gets harder when the warmth of your tongue flicks over his skin to soothe the sting. He sounds fucked out already when he sighs, “Anything.”

“Let me repay you for all those drinks you never charged me for.” Between kisses down the length of his neck, you purr, “Not exactly subtle, you know.”

He clenches his jaw to keep it from dropping. “Have I been hustled?”

“Is it hustling if I offer to reimburse you?”

Knowing damn well what it’ll do to him, you flutter your lashes against his skin, forcing him to fight off a shiver. There’s no hiding the rush of heat that follows; he doesn’t need to ask to know that you feel it creeping up his neck. “I’ll make up for it,” you promise. “Atone, and all that.”

Wooyoung reaches up and cups your jaw with his hand; you follow his direction and look up at him with excitement twinkling in your eyes, juxtaposing the deep black in his. “I’m charging interest,” he bites back. “The rates are astronomical.”

“Oh?”

“Oh, indeed. Get on the bed, sweetheart.”

With a light smack on your ass, he sends you on your way. In the few seconds it takes you to skip over to your mattress and jump onto it, he tugs his shirt up and over his head, then tosses it aside. Before unbuckling his jeans and tearing those off, too, he snatches his wallet from the back pocket. More specifically, the condom he’s been keeping within just in case you ever decided to stoop to his level.

You’re a second away from drooling when he makes his way over and stops at the edge of the bed. That kind of hunger is yet another thing he failed to see coming. There’s something insatiable in your eyes now, darkening by the second.

You reach out for the condom, but he pulls his hand back, holds it up where you can’t reach. Frustration makes your eyebrows pinch together. Out of context — if you weren’t naked, wet, and wanting him — he’d likely go out of his way to tell you how fucking cute you look when you’re annoyed.

“Don’t pout at me, sweetheart.” Wooyoung’s warning tone is gravel-lined, sharp to the touch when it hits you. Whether you intend it or not, your breath hitches in tandem with your pupils dilating. “I’ll let you do it, but I have one condition. Consider it a repayment term.”

You tilt your head to the side, eyes narrowing with intrigue. “And what’s that?”

“No hands.”

The surprised look he was counting on never comes. He gets sheer determination instead. You pull the packet from between his fingers, rip the foil open with your teeth, and flick the empty wrapper onto your nightstand. Not a second is wasted in you tugging his black briefs down his thighs.

You don’t deal in unpaid debts, either, it seems.

What happens next nearly puts him in an early grave. Wooyoung fucking wishes for a fly on the wall to witness you — someone else to memorialize the finesse you exhibit in working that latex down his length with your mouth alone — because he can’t believe his own eyes. In fact, he has to screw them shut to keep from cumming at the sight of you with his dick down your throat, lips flush to his pelvis.

“My god,” he groans, head dipping backwards. “If that’s how good your fucking mouth feels…”

You give him a second to pull himself together. Then, you wrap your hand around his wrist and pull him. He drops into the space you were occupying just a second ago, and as soon as his back hits the mattress, you steady yourself with your palms on his chest and position yourself over him.

Now, he can’t keep his hands to himself. His fingertips scratch up your thighs, leaving goosebumps along the fastidiously trained muscles underneath his touch. Palms gliding up the curve of your ass, then your waist, then those fucking tits.

“Shit,” you mewl. He lightly pinches your left nipple between his thumb and forefinger, spurring you on to rake your nails over the flesh of his chest. The way he tenses under your touch must embolden you. “Play with me all you want, but I need you inside of me now.”

Wooyoung has no idea where this assertiveness came from, but he’ll be goddamned if he doesn’t give you everything you want and then some. To prove that you’ve earned the lot, you line yourself up and take everything he has.

Somehow, you manage to take his vision, too. The world gets blurry as your heat envelopes him; everything in the periphery blackens until all that’s left is you throwing your head back in pleasure. No other light, no noise beyond the obscene sound of your pussy soaking his length and the collision of your perfect ass against the tops of his thighs.

As strong as you are, Wooyoung knows your orgasm will wipe you out long before your body tires. He sees your eyes start to roll back in your head, even when you put your palms down behind you and lean away from him to perfect the angle.

Not good enough, he decides. He wants to watch your pupils blow when you fall apart.

“C’mere,” he rasps.

Fuck, he’s about to break, too.

“Eyes on me, sweetheart.”

You push off your hands and move to lean in, but you wind up crumpling against his chest, immediately overwhelmed by the depths of his strokes when you re-enter his gravity. With the proximity perfected, every movement that follows is desperate — animalistic, even. Clinging fingers, sweat slicked bodies swapping searing heat. He lifts his hips to drive himself further into you with every downbeat, sets a pace so punishing that he has you speaking in tongues.

When you cum the second time, the moan that rips through you almost sounds like a sob. It really might be. The droplets on your cheeks are either tears or sweat; one or both would be justified, considering the show you just put on for him.

Shit, how you managed to blow his world to pieces just by walking into his bar, he’ll never understand. All he knows is that when he cums — not long after you — and his entire fucking body goes numb, you’re there on the other side of the cataclysm to kiss him back to life.

Sweet.

When you wake up, you don’t even have a guess as to what time it is. That’s your fault, you know. You didn’t think to connect your phone to its charger prior to falling asleep in a mess of sheets. The numerous alarms you always keep set didn’t go off, obviously, but right now, that’s the least of your worries.

Until your phone has enough juice to power back on, you won’t know if Wooyoung texted you before sneaking out of your apartment.

You’d taken it as a good sign when he asked for your number in a fucked-out haze. Now, you realize, that naivety of yours was operating in full swing, even when the rest of you was down for the count. That’s what one-night-stands are for, you tell yourself. That’s the decision you made.

Uncharacteristically, you’re tempted to spend the rest of your day — however much of it is left — rotting in bed. It’s an urge you’ll give in to, you can already tell; just like the one that got you here in the first place. The only thing stronger than the call of your bed is the grumbling of your stomach, begging for sustenance.

Sighing loudly, you throw your comforter off your lower half and wiggle towards the edge of your bed. Bare feet meet the braided rug below, then unsteady legs do their best to get their bearings. As you ache, you realize that you need to give credit where it’s due:

You’re currently in the best shape of your life, and Wooyoung still managed to fuck the constitution out of you.

You bend slowly to scoop a shirt from your untouched laundry basket, groaning all the while. On its own, it’s long enough to cover your ass, so you don’t bother to dress yourself further — except for the fuzzy slippers waiting next to your bedroom door.

It’s closed, you note when you finally bother to look at it. It wasn’t when you fell into bed with Wooyoung. He probably didn’t want to disturb you on the way out, you figure. This would strike you as thoughtful if it didn’t feel like a chapter ending too soon. Reaching out to reopen it, you tell yourself to be less sentimental.

In the living room, laying eyes on an empty kitchen, you also tell yourself, I told you so. This isn’t a drama, after all. There’s no love interest in your kitchen to cook you an unexpected breakfast.

Pre-made frozen breakfast sandwich it is, then.

You tear open the package with more effort than you should’ve needed to expend, then dump the single-serving lump onto a paper plate. As if on autopilot, you shove the plate into the microwave and smash a few buttons without registering much of it. The quiet hum of the machine nearly lulls you straight back to sleep.

Well, it likely could have.

The metallic rattling up the hall catches your attention, prompting you to step backwards so you can peer over at your front door and confirm that it’s locked. It is. You turn back to your breakfast in progress, and it takes five (5) entire seconds before you realize the issue here.

Keys jingle with more determination, right on cue. You spin around fully this time, eyes wide, to find Wooyoung in your doorway. He holds the door open with his elbow because both his hands are full; and as if that all wasn’t enough, he tries to toe off his shoes without being able to see them over the cardboard to-go tray in his hands.

“Fucking —” he grunts, wobbling.

It must’ve been louder than he intended because he winces immediately. In his moment of panic, his eyes flick over to your bedroom door. Then, when he realizes it’s open, they search for you, blinking in surprise when they find you. He peeps, “Oh.”

As it turns out, his ability to make you lose your words isn’t limited to late hours. The sun is beating through the sliding glass door to your balcony, and you confirm that you’re just as dumbstruck by him in daylight. So, you simply point to the drinks and paper bag he’s holding with your eyebrows pinched in confusion.

“Found that café you go to on Tuesdays,” Wooyoung explains gruffly. His morning voice is every bit as ruinous as you imagined it would be. “The logo on their cups is just a cloud, so it took a lot of wandering to solve that fucking mystery.”

This time, it’s you who peeps. “Oh?”

It’s then that he finally succeeds in getting his shoes off. With his hip, he nudges the door shut; your key ring chimes in the process, having been attached to his belt loop. In a few steps, he sets his burdens down on the kitchen island and looks up at you with a wicked glint in his eye. Apparently, his immediate thought is the same as yours. Simpering, he picks everything back up and makes for your living room’s coffee table instead.

“I’m glad to report that the green shit you drink doesn’t include algae or moss.” He lifts a smoothie from the carrier and holds it out to you, flashing you a smile that makes your knees wobble. “However, I regret to inform you that it does contain vegetables.”

If you try any harder to bite back your idiotic grin, you might lose your lips. “Did you — did you really think there was moss in it?”

He waves his hand dismissively. Notably, he doesn’t say no. That hand then lowers, finger crooked to beckon you closer. You move in, and you try to focus on the moment in front of you, rather than the obscene flashbacks the gesture gives you. The knowing look you expect doesn’t follow, though. Wooyoung simply places your drink in your left hand and your keys in your right.

“Sorry for borrowing those without asking or — well, notifying you in any way, whatsoever.” He grimaces. “I figured I’d be gone for a minute, and I didn’t want someone to waltz through your unlocked door and wake you up.”

“Was burglary on that list of concerns, or is sleep truly your main priority?”

At this, he grins like an idiot. “You’re getting better at that, you know.”

The look on your face must convey your confusion.

“I like the version of you that doesn’t pull punches,” he continues, sounding almost embarrassed to admit something about himself.

You take a move from his playbook and slide your finger through his belt loop, tugging him forward until he’s squarely within kissing distance. “This Wooyoung?” You murmur, “The one who got up early to hunt down a smoothie he’s disgusted by? Objectively likable.”

He rolls his eyes, but it doesn’t distract from the pink tint overtaking his cheeks. “I don’t know about that.”

You kiss him before he can offer to agree to disagree. And when you finally pull back, you nod firmly. “He might be sweet enough for me.”

while likes are appreciated, comments/tags/reblogs with your thoughts are really what make my brain go brrrtt.

ateez masterlist. multi masterlist. navigation.

tagging: @jihopesjoint @bahng-chrizz @sourkimchi @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @notevenheretbh1 @borabitsch @bubbly-moon (also paging @moni-logues because i feel like woo is our sister wife, lmfao.)

#ateez #wooyoung #jung wooyoung #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung smut #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #wooyoung fanfic #wooyoung fic #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #wooyoung imagines #wooyoung scenarios #jade writes #kvanity #re: whiskey neat

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arieslost · 9 months ago

Text

sky full of stars | ln4

summary: dj!lando always plays your song when you’re at the club.

word count: 3,615

warnings: drinking

masterlist — join my tag list here!

2021

You did not want to be in this club. You would need another pair of hands and feet to count off all the places you’d rather be, the very first one being asleep in your bed.

But here you were, not only in the club, but within a throng of people at varying levels of fucked up, jumping around and dancing to the song pounding through the speakers. Your comforts were twofold: the first was knowing that you could handle the two shots in your system, and the second was that your best friend was the designated driver tonight, so there was no way in hell she was going to leave without you.

Frankly, you’d been ready to leave an hour ago. In fact, you’d started saying the words, “I want to go home” when you caught a glimpse of the DJ in charge of tonight’s music. Granted, it was hard to really look at him considering the fact that the lights were low and you were on the other end of the club, but you’d seen just enough to know that he was attractive and any thought of leaving had gone right out the window. Not to mention the fact that he hadn’t said anything when he started his set, so you didn’t even know what his voice sounded like.

You needed a closer look.

So here you were, surprisingly enjoying yourself on the dance floor while you tried to check him out without being overly conspicuous. You were only able to make out a head of curly hair and the large hand that lifted a shot glass to his lips when your phone started ringing, the buzz in your pocket the only indication thanks to the blaring music. You squinted at the screen, thinking it might be your friend trying to find you, but the caller ID read “Potential Spam,” so your phone went right back into your pocket. You were on a mission.

When you looked up, you made direct eye contact with the man of the hour– the DJ you found nothing short of infatuating. You were rather close to his setup, maybe ten people away, but you could feel his gaze on you as he picked up a microphone.

“This next song is dedicated to the gorgeous woman I’m looking at right now,” he announced to the whole room, sending a wink in your direction before getting to work on fading the current song into the new one– “A Sky Full of Stars” by Coldplay.

You felt goosebumps rising on your arms as the first few notes filled the room, suddenly glad that you were here and not at home, asleep. The lights moved in tandem to the beat of the song, and you finally got a proper look at his face. It’s then that you knew you were screwed, because if he wasn’t the most attractive man you’d ever seen in your life, you’d be lying.

You barely had any time to pull yourself together before he was motioning for one of his friends to take over for him and stepping down from the booth into the crowd, making a beeline right for where you stood in the middle of it all.

“You’re awfully bold,” you said when he was close enough to hear you, a bit taken aback by how quickly he’d closed the distance between the two of you. “What makes you think I like this song?”

He didn’t answer at first, instead choosing to slowly run his hand down your arm until his fingers tangled with yours. “You have goosebumps, and I’d be shocked if you didn’t like it. When I played it last time, you came up to me and tried to take the mic so you could sing it to everyone.”

That’s another reason why you never made a habit out of going to the club. Somehow, it always got to the point where you lost your mind a little bit and somehow managed to find new ways to make an idiot out of yourself. But tonight was different– you were managing your alcohol intake, and the hot DJ was calling you out on something you’d been too drunk to remember the next morning.

Your friends hadn’t though; in fact, they’d been gracious enough to provide video proof of them dragging you away from the DJ booth. You’d never felt such shame as you did watching that back.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he said, his free hand tilting your chin up so he could look right at you as he spoke. “It’s how I noticed you in the first place. I haven’t been able to take my eyes off of you since.”

At least one good thing came out of my foolishness, you thought to yourself as he took your other hand and put both of your arms around his neck. It made sense, anyway– you definitely would’ve remembered seeing him before had you been sober.

“I’m not a very good dancer,” you warned him as he began to sway to the music, taking you along with him as his hands went down to your hips.

“Neither am I,” he confided, lips close to your ear.

The chorus began, the song’s beat drop making the lights change from red to blue, and you decided that you would let this happen, even if it turned into another embarrassing memory. At least you would remember this time, and you’d never forget swaying back and forth with the handsome DJ as the rest of the crowd danced around you both.

2022

You were in the club again, and you couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. Spending so much time with your favorite DJ, Lando Norris, will do that to you. After that first dance, he bought you a couple drinks and didn’t go back to the DJ booth for the rest of the night due to you dragging him right back out into the crowd and dancing with him until your feet hurt too much to stand. Eventually, your best friend had found you and told you it was time to go, and in your tipsy state you’d kept your arms firmly around Lando, said something about “holding him hostage,” and vehemently refused to go anywhere. It wasn’t until he gave you his number that you allowed your best friend to take you home.

He texted you right away when he woke up that morning, and the day after the two of you went on your first date. He surprised you by taking you to a rather high-end restaurant; you’d pegged him for a more low-key guy when it came to dates, despite the fact that he’d dedicated a song to you in front of a club full of people, and you were proved correct when you were on the phone with him later that night.

“I don’t even like going out that much,” he confessed, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes. “I just thought you deserved something special for a first date so I didn’t look like a loser.”

“You could have just told me that,” you giggled. “The dress code for our next date can be sweats.”

You still remembered the way his eyes lit up when you said “our next date.” That next date, a movie marathon at your apartment, had turned into countless dates, and you never went back to that restaurant.

Now, you were in the club where the two of you first met to celebrate your one year anniversary. Lando was wearing a white button up, and had just unbuttoned the top two buttons to reveal more of his tan skin and the gold chain around his neck. You’d given him a look, and he’d complained that “it’s just so hot in here,” but the both of you knew he was just doing it to rile you up.

It was working.

Your hands gravitated to the newly exposed skin, palms running up along his shoulders and fingers dipping beneath his collar to gently scratch at his back. You could spend all night running your hands over his skin, and he’d be happy to let you do it. He leaned closer to you, nearly stepping on your toes as his arms looped around your waist.

“You really weren’t lying last year when you said you were a bad dancer.” You laughed at the affronted look on his face.

“I think I’ve gotten better, thank you very much.” He said, and promptly stepped directly on your foot. “Shit, baby, I’m sorry!”

You only laughed harder, pulling him into a kiss. You could feel the vibrations of his own laughter against your lips.

“Wait right here,” he instructed, breaking the kiss. “I’ve got something for you.”

He kissed your cheek and disappeared into the crowd.

The song playing began fading out, which caught your attention because it was in the middle of the chorus. You didn’t need Lando’s DJ knowledge to know that it was a strange decision to fade a song out long before it was over.

“Attention, everyone. We had a special request tonight from a familiar face,” the DJ announced before passing the microphone to none other than your boyfriend.

“This next song goes out to my beautiful girlfriend,” Lando said, pointing directly at you and causing your face to get hot when half the room looked in the direction of his finger. “Happy one year, baby. I love you.”

Your jaw dropped as the familiar opening notes of “A Sky Full of Stars” started playing. Not just because of the song, but because of those three special words. I love you. You’d only said it to each other a handful of times, and Lando had just said it to you in front of hundreds of people.

You met him in the middle of the floor, too impatient to wait until he got back to you.

“I love you, I love you so much!” You yelled over the music, kissing him again.

“One year is just the beginning, yeah?” He asked, and you nodded enthusiastically, cheeks hurting from smiling so wide.

2023

You were wrapped up in Lando’s arms as you stood before his setup. In the past year, he had been promoted to be the main talent for the club and had three sets every weekend. He had insisted that the only gift he wanted from you for your two year anniversary was that you help him DJ his next set, and you’d obviously agreed. You got him a necklace anyway, but kept your promise so long as he promised to help you gain at least some skills beforehand so the audience wouldn’t kick you out for being shit. After a week or so, you felt confident enough with the buffer of the knowledge you’d picked up over the past two years to be where you were now– fading one song into another almost seamlessly.

Lando would take his hands off of you for only seconds at a time to adjust something here or there and make the music flow as smoothly as possible. Otherwise, he was all over you for the whole club to see, and you were kind of obsessed with it. He was hardly paying attention to anything else; only moving on autopilot to fiddle with the knobs or whatever it was he was doing to make you look like an adequate DJ.

“Did I do okay?” You asked towards the end of the set, looking over your shoulder at your boyfriend who hadn’t stopped smiling at you since you left the apartment and arrived at the club early to set up.

“Are you kidding? I think I might be out of a job after tonight,” he said, threading his fingers into your hair to pull you into a long kiss. “At least I would be, if I didn’t have this party trick under my sleeve.”

Slightly dazed from the passion of his kiss, you let him lean around you and queue up a song that wasn’t originally in the mix for that evening’s set.

At this point, you should have expected it, and maybe you did a little bit, but that didn’t stop the tears from pricking your eyes and the goosebumps rising on your arms when “A Sky Full of Stars” began, sending the crowd into a chorus of cheers.

“It works every time,” he said cheekily, reaching up to wipe away the tears that had escaped.

“You are unbelievable.” It was meant to be said in jest, but you were just so filled with love and adoration for him that it sounded like a compliment.

“Dance to our song with me,” he said, spinning you and tugging you forward so you bumped right into his chest.

“Here?” You looked behind you, at the set up, at the hundreds of people, and he took your chin in his hand and turned your face back to him.

“Here. Now. I want them all to see how much I love you.” He said it so sweetly that, in that moment, you were willing to give him just about whatever he wanted.

He started singing the song to you, “‘Cause in a sky, ‘cause in a sky full of stars, I think I saw you,” and it felt like you were the only two people in the room when the beat dropped and you kissed him with everything you had, letting him sway you back and forth and spin you around one too many times just to see his smile and hear his giddy laugh.

2024

You’re surprised when Lando tells you that he’s made different plans for your three year anniversary. The club has become a second home of some sorts; you’re there more often than not to watch his sets, and you’ve always gone there for your anniversaries. Not just the years, but the six month, year and a half, and two and a half year anniversaries as well. Thus, the sudden deviation from tradition raises a few alarm bells in your head. If anything, you’d expect a change for your four years next year since 4 is your boyfriend’s lucky number.

You don’t have time to dwell on it that much. You have to be out the door in ten minutes, and you still have to finish applying your lipstick, not to mention strap yourself into the sparkling silver heels Lando had gotten you for Christmas.

“Almost ready, baby?” He asks, peeking into the bathroom and watching as you add one last swipe of lipstick.

“Yup! Just need my—” you’re cut off when he holds up the heels. “—shoes. Thanks, Lan.”

“Here, sit. I’ll put them on for you.” He gestures to the edge of the tub.

You take him up on his offer happily, and your heart jumps up into your throat when he stares right into your eyes and slowly gets down on one knee before you.

You’d overheard him talking about possibly proposing to you with your parents over the holiday break, and you hadn’t been stealthy about it at all, so he knows that you heard. Since then, he’s made a game out of getting on one knee in front of you every now and then. He already did it once this morning when he woke you up only to tell you that he made you breakfast. You know he’s joking, but now that you’re celebrating a significant milestone in your relationship you can’t help but have a slight inkling that his joking around is less of a joke and more of a hint.

So when he holds your gaze long enough to make you start thinking that it might actually happen before going about putting your shoes on, you’re not at all fazed and ruffle his hair.

“Hey! Easy, I spent a lot of time making my hair look good for you.” He yelps, jumping up to look in the mirror and patting it down meticulously.

“I like it when it’s messy,” you reply, giving him a look that you know drives him crazy.

“You can’t say that and look at me that way when we’re trying to leave the house, babe.” He whines.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You make sure the straps on your heels are tight enough before you stand up, pleased that your retaliation to his down-on-one-knee joke worked better than you thought it would. “Come on, I don’t want to be late!”

He wastes no time in getting his payback for your antics when you arrive at the restaurant he took you to for your very first date. He opens the car door for you, and takes your hand to help you step out. The moment you’re on the sidewalk and the door is closed behind you, he gets down on one knee again, making a point to look at you the entire time. Your heart jumps again. Certainly he wouldn’t do it on the sidewalk? Or maybe he would, to add to the element of surprise?

He doesn’t. He simply ties his shoelace, the picture of innocence all the while.

“Shall we?” He says as he straightens up, offering his arm with a smile.

You retain your own picture of innocence, wrapping your hand around his bicep. “We shall.”

Seeing that he had booked the private dining room has more alarm bells going off in your head, not to mention the fact that you thought you’d never see the inside of this restaurant again. Regardless, you were actually kind of happy to be somewhere quieter to celebrate your anniversary, as much as you’ve fallen in love with being at the club.

Lando clears his throat loudly towards the end of your meal as the waiter pours two glasses of champagne. “Three years,” he begins, sounding somewhat awestruck.

You nod in agreement. “Three years. Sick of me yet?”

“I don’t think that’s possible.” He passes you a glass, and you clink them together before you each take a sip. “Actually, I’d really love to just spend my entire life with you.”

Now he’s not even trying to hide it, so you laugh a little bit. “That’s sweet, Lan.”

“I’m serious,” he pouts, and you try to contain yourself, painting a serious expression on your face and nodding as you press your lips together. “Fine, I admit it. I went a little too far with the joke.”

“Which time? Are we talking about just today or the past few weeks?” You ask pointedly, taking another sip of your champagne.

“Okay, a lot too far.” He huffs, getting out of his chair and pushing it in before walking to your side of the table. “I want to make up for it right now though, if that’s alright with you.”

“Oh my God. You’re actually serious?” You ask, feeling your insides beginning to shake a little with giddiness as he gets down on one knee before you for the fourth time today.

“I have never been more serious about anything in my life.” He reaches into his suit jacket and pulls out a small box.

It looks a bit different than ring boxes normally look, and the moment he opens it you understand why. The notes of “A Sky Full of Stars” emit from within the box where the ring sits, the dazzling diamond sparkling when it catches the light.

“Fuck’s sake, Lando, I wouldn’t have spent so much time on my makeup if I knew you were gonna do this,” you sniffle, putting a hand over your mouth.

“I’ll keep it short because I don’t want to cry too much and ruin it,” he promises, taking your free hand in his own, the other holding the box out to you. “I’ve never been happier to be borderline assaulted by a drunk girl in the middle of a set, because if that never happened I don’t know if we would’ve met.”

You start laughing hysterically, tears most definitely ruining your makeup, and he laughs through his own tears.

“I just love you so much, every little thing about you. It would take me eternity to tell you how much I love you, and that wouldn’t even be enough time with you. So, that’s why I want to ask you to be with me beyond eternity and do me the honor of being my wife.” He says your name like he’s saying it for the first time, taking his time to savor the way it rolls off his tongue. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” you nod. “Yes, yes, yes.”

Hand shaking, he slips the ring onto your finger. The moment it’s in place, he puts his other knee down and pulls you into the tightest hug as the song continues playing from the box.

“I love you,” you whisper in his ear, feeling his shoulders shake slightly as he cries. “But did you have to give me a heart attack so many times today?”

He laughs, pulling away and grabbing a napkin to gently wipe your eyes. “Four’s my lucky number, I had to do it three other times today to make sure I got it right.”

The song comes to an end, and you pick up the box, observing the intricate design and the engraving on the outside– You get lighter the more it gets dark. I’m going to give you my heart. Forever.

“You know this has to be the song we dance to for the first time as Mr. and Mrs. Norris, right?” You say to him, leaning in and kissing the tears off of his cheeks.

“Way ahead of you, baby. I already started making our playlist; it’s the first song on there.”

note: the fact that i’m posting this after lando confirmed he “retired” from dj-ing… call this my long-winded eulogy. special thanks to coldplay for making a song that inspired a whole story!

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are always appreciated <33

beautiful dividers by @/saradika !

tags (i’m sorry if i couldn’t tag you!): @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @thef1diary @clara760-blog @baby-moxley @positiveaspirations @xfuckoffx @hannahbrown2002 @cataalinababeyy @inejghafawifesblog @formulasportworld @meandjoemama @maddie-bell @mrsmaybank13 @hadids-world @havaneselover08 @aacherrylips @itsmoonia @universallyhoundbonkfestival @rery30 @paigeworlds @wassgood @itscrzy @ctrlyomomma @inlovewithdeadboys @multifandomfan1 @bwormie @megsmclaren @barackostea @enchantemirrorball @tiredallthetimex @cosmoscoffeee @mlilyb16 @ophcelia @idktbhhsworld @l-inas @kath8278 @formulaangel55 @y-nusername @sla123455ffh @dinodumbass @diaa-20 @alexmarie29 @lisoba13 @ftdtlovecore @clowngirlsstuff @jurelij @romanxffs @sadisticfries @loyalpuffofthehuffle @cherrue @itsprashimusic @danielmarie @dampcelery0294 @shasasthings @bringbacktim @lou-larcher5 @yunakynn @hanbinnneee

#full fic #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #ln4 imagine #ln4 fic #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x reader

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b38rman · 2 months ago

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READ YOUR MIND ᯓ★ Ollie Bearman

tags - ollie bearman x afab!reader, friends to lovers, fluff, slight miscommunication, loosely inspired by the sabrina carpenter song of the same name

synopsis - This was definitely not on the marketing internship job offering for Prema Racing. You swore you had everything under control before this—before Ollie Bearman took up most of the weekend's agenda.

rating - teen and up readers

warnings - slightly suggestive ending

a/n - i wrote this before ollie was announced as a 2025 f1 driver and the slight implications of dread related to that uncertainty are littered throughout this work so just keep that in mind (or not) enjoy!

Thursday — Spain, 2024

The unmistakable sound of the hotel doorbell rang through your room. Admittedly, the best time to go to sleep had already passed you by at this point, considering the 7 AM lobby call time the team had for you. Unfortunately, the restlessness that could only be attributed to constant location changes seeped into your bones.

You got up, trying to dispell the feeling populating your gut. Perhaps, more than anything, it was the dull influx of certainty. You were still learning how to get used to this.

You opened the door slightly, just enough to see who was on the other side.

“Took you long enough.” The familiar rumble of Ollie’s voice filled your ears, as he pushed his way into your bedroom.

At this point, you were 100% sure that any of this was not part of any of the contracts Prema made you sign when they offered you the internship. No matter how much you looked between the lines of wage and non-disclosures, you wouldn’t find what you and Ollie had anywhere.

It was just that it was becoming a routine at this point. From the beginning of the season, Ollie seemingly couldn’t find a better victim than you for his late night musings. You tried to gently reprimand him at first, telling him off about his bedtime and his racing and all of the things he’d scoff at you for and turn a stubbornly deaf ear towards.

Ollie rounded the room slowly, his white sleep shirt and flannel pajamas contrasting against your worn summer camp shirt and cotton shorts. You felt overexposed, as you always did in these situations.

“Wanna play Mario Kart?” Ollie asked, mindlessly making his way to your side of the bed.

You thought about it for a second before responding, “Nope, too tired to be that stressed out.”

Ollie hummed in acknowledgment before laying back onto your bed, phone in hand, with his legs still dangling over the edge. He always took your side of the bed, despite it very obviously being rumpled and occupied.

You climbed onto the other side and tucked yourself in under the sheets. As if on instinct, Ollie moved his head upward, resting it on your stomach, before locking his phone and setting it on his chest.

“I just feel a bit odd, you know? Like everyone says so many good things about me but really, I haven’t done anything.” He looked to the ceiling as he rambled. “I have another FP1 tomorrow and all I can think about is how I don’t know how to be what people want me to be. I don’t know how to keep being good, or how to really be good; will people even look back and think I was good?”

“That’s some bad imposter syndrome you got there, huh?” You stretched your hand out and lightly laid it on his head, stretching your fingers against the expanse of brown waves. Ollie leaned into the touch, shutting his eyes.

“The only thing that should matter is who you want to be.” You grinned fondly at him, even if he couldn’t see it. “Besides, you’re way too young to be worrying stuff like that.”

“We’re the same age.” He opened his eyes just to look at you as he said that.

“And do you see me worrying about my legacy?” You joked, earning a toothy smile and a roll of eyes from Ollie.

At every moment you’ve spent with Ollie so far, he’s not felt like someone that appears on national television broadcasts or on carefully curated Pinterest boards. You could almost see yourself looking across the lecture hall, seeing him, and wondering if he was really paying attention or just browsing on his laptop.

Instead, he was one of the boys you’d keep track of social media appearances for. You managed his filming schedules for both long-form and short-form videos, and wove through seas of people and motorhomes with him to find a spot to record his little post-race briefs. You weren’t assigned to him specifically, but it usually was you and him most of the time.

“It’s, um, getting late.” You tried not to be too awkward about untangling your hand from Ollie’s hair. “I think you should get some rest.”

You waited for him to complete the final part of this routine you had going, wherein he’d sleepily walk to his own bedroom and you’d fall asleep in your own fully warmed bed.

Except for the fact that he didn’t do that at all.

“Could I just stay here? I don’t really want to be alone right now.” You felt Ollie shift ever so slightly from where he was, head still resting on you.

Questions on professionality and ethics rang through your mind one after another.

“Are you sure?” Was all you could muster.

Ollie seemed to recognize your concern without you voicing it. After all, you weren’t particularly discreet about any of it.

“I’ll just wake up earlier, it’ll be fine.” He finally raised his head and began setting an alarm for five in the morning. Part of you knew it was futile. Considering everything, it was a bold move, considering that it was just past midnight.

You watched him mindlessly, as he turned all the lights off, only leaving the light from the bathroom peaking out through a slight opening in its door. For a moment, you let yourself think of a time and place where this was a normal occurrence—one where him curling up in bed next to you in near complete darkness felt like a grounding force instead of a guilt-inducing one.

You turned to face away from where he was laying, opting to try and not make this any weirder than it could be.

“Good night.” He said regardless. “Sweet dreams.” He said, in a softer voice, almost as if he didn’t want you to hear him.

You could feel his body near yours, almost as if the full size bed was too cramped for the two of you.

“Sweet dreams, Ollie.” You replied.

You felt him roll over to his back as you drifted off to sleep.

Friday

Your eyes shot open at the sound of an iPhone alarm going off, obviously being the one Ollie set a few hours prior. What you didn’t immediately process was the arm wrapped around your waist, and the soft snores coming from the face that was nuzzled into your hair. Your heart was pounding.

“Ollie,” You lightly shook the arm that was over you. “Ollie, wake up.”

You were only met with a long grunt and a tightened grip.

“Ollie, please, come on.” You tried sitting up to give him a bit more of a hint, displacing his arm on you.

Finally, he rolled over, turning off his alarm. The sun was barely out yet, and you saw him squinting at you through his sleepy eyes.

“I don’t want to go.” He said softly and groggily, toying with a loose string on your worn shirt.

“You have to.” You replied with every ounce of control in your body.

Ollie grunted faintly before stretching his arms over his head, silently sitting up and making his way out of the door as quickly as he came through it.

Everything kept moving into the next day. You’d comprehensively briefed Kimi in the morning on his share of marketing activities over breakfast and sneaked some Live at Prema footage here and there, with Ollie notably paying less attention and getting called by some F1 media members midway.

The constant elephant in the room was the tinge of disappointment the team felt due to Ollie’s slightly lackluster feeder performances in direct comparison to all of the F1 hype surrounding him, which no amount of sarcastic humor from the team could conceal.

Despite everything that happened the night prior, everything remained calm and professional (he barely acknowledged you outside of what he needed to do, which was both a relief and a punch to the gut).

Between photoshoots and practice sessions, you’d spotted Ollie from afar. Barely anyone could get a hold of him after free practice, as he was justifiably rushing between garages.

He was up and down the paddock clad in his black Haas shirt, clearly moving with an air of confidence that filled your chest with something you couldn’t describe. This Ollie felt worlds away, which brought you as much joy and pride as it did a hint of melancholy. You were still figuring out what he was making you feel, but at times like this, he felt worlds away.

You were pulled away from your thoughts as quickly as they came to you, as you engrossed yourself in content with the F1 Academy drivers. When you weren’t doing that, you were organizing paperwork, analyzing metrics, and sifting through footage on your phone and camera.

The feeling you suppressed earlier only returned as the F1 cars hit the track. You thought about how near he felt at present, just at touching distance in the space between your hotel room and Grisignano de Zocco; but you also thought about how faraway everything would become after Prema, and how much you’d have to feel if you allowed yourself to let your guard down around Ollie.

After all, every sane racing driver would hope that feeder wouldn’t be forever. Deep inside you, though, you wished this feeling wouldn’t just be hidden in the footnotes of what would become Ollie’s career. Nevertheless, the sheer idea of wanting someone who was literally the face of a future generation of racing amidst the backdrop of him being capable of being wanted by every other person in the world felt incredibly absurd and daunting to say the least.

(The two of you weren’t even anything. You weren’t really sure about these thoughts.)

After your rumination and the inevitable conclusion of the free practice session, you continued your work as you were directed to. It was entirely a coincidence, though, that your next duties included bringing parts of Ollie’s race kit and his water to his area in the shared driver’s area in preparation for qualifying. As every internship went, you often had miscellaneous work to fulfill.

Kimi had already finished his personal preparations for qualifying, already looking over last minute data, while Ollie was running late due to his prior commitment. The air was undeniably stress-ridden, as your first real encounter of the race day with Ollie was him scrambling to get into his overalls and suit, but you set everything down calmly while pointedly avoiding eye contact.

“Was starting to think you didn’t miss me at all.” Ollie was the first to break the silence, imploring you to look up at him.

Warmth filled your body at his words. For a moment, you worried that he knew he had some type of effect on you, but you quickly pulled yourself together mentally.

“One less person to persuade to listen to my content briefs.” You shrugged, smiling at him playfully, almost daring him to retaliate.

As the rush caught up to both of you, the only cohesive answer to your banter that he gave you before exiting into the garage was a soft squeeze on your forearm.

“We’re friends, right?” Ollie asked, already tucking himself into your bed without hesitation.

Once Ollie was done slumping over in qualifying debriefs with the team, he made his way to your room again. It was the same routine as last night, just with a lot less talking.

The thing is, you weren’t saying anything either. That in itself said a lot.

You looked at him, eyebrows scrunched together. “Yes?”

Well, you were sharing a bed, tucked under the same sheets, staring face to face at each other in the dim yellow light of your Barcelona hotel room.

“Maybe? I don’t know, Ollie—“ You second-guessed for a moment before continuing, “—I’m literally an intern. We work together, technically.”

Ollie’s face twisted into something unreadable. His eyes shifted to the side as he mouthed the word ‘technically’ under his breath.

“I mean, I guess we could be friends if you want.” You followed up. God, you felt ridiculous for having a conversation that sounded like this.

He took a breath, deep and slow. “I want a lot of things,”He answered.

Ollie looked at right you, eyes so big, bright, and endless.

“I know.” You replied impulsively, in a voice barely above a whisper.

He got so dangerously close to you that you could feel the warmths of his breaths on your face.

“You don’t.” The weight of his gaze felt like it was melting you from the inside out. “You really don’t.”

Ollie closed the gap between the two of you, his dry lips engulfing yours for what felt like an eternity, despite it being maybe a five-second peck at most. When he pulled away, you were breathing like he’d taken all of the air out of your lungs just from the sheer pace your heart was beating at.

A look of uncertainty flashed across his almost annoyingly pretty face. The kiss was so sweet, and you hated to be the one to make him question himself.

“We shouldn’t.” You said in conjuction with your uncontrollable heartbeats and air-filled breaths.

“Then tell me you don’t want this.” Ollie challenged, laying one calloused, warm hand on your cheek.

“Ollie—“ You tried to protest. Every logical part of your brain was telling you how wrong all of this was, and how stupid you were for letting this happen in the first place.

In spite of all that, you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. You couldn’t lie to him for the life of you.

You wanted this so bad. All you could do was want.

You laid your cold hand atop the one cupping your face, and let yourself look back at the earnest look on his face. You felt overexposed, sensitive all over like you’d been put out in the sun for too long.

“Please.” You could barley manage words, but you finally let yourself lean into him to erase every seed of doubt planted in his mind.

The movement of your lips against one another quickly turned hot and heavy, and you let Ollie take and take everything he could’ve wanted. His hand wandered down to your neck and achingly close to your chest, as his kisses migrated down to your neck.

“We—ah—we really shouldn’t be doing this,” You weakly attempted to be rational, even if your hand was tangled in his hair and heat was quickly pooling between your thighs.

In response, he dove right below your collar bone, beginning with a bite and continuing with not-so-subtly marking you there, coaxing a mix between a gasp, wimper, and a soft moan out of you.

It was glaringly obvious that he didn’t care all that much.

#ollie bearman #ollie bearman x reader #formula one #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 #formula 2 #f1 2024 #f2 2024 #ferrari driver academy #fda #f2 x reader #f2 x you #f2 fanfic #prema racing #friends to lovers #fluff #b38rman fics

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blkkizzat · 1 year ago

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☠︎︎ THRILLING GHOULS & SMOOTH CRIMINALS ☠︎︎

Halloween is my fav holiday and Horror is my fav movie genre so how could I not participate in a SPOOKY KINKTOBER!

update 9/15/24: im going to finish this list this year! just revamped the masterlist.

All inspired by my favorite horror villains!

song inspo: Thriller & Smooth Criminal cw: Blood play might be heavy in a few of these. Dubcon or Noncon in most of these but the reader will enjoy/consent by the end. Death but only of minor/NPC no name characters(ie, your fuckass bf, bitchy chem professor, next door neighbor, mailman, etc) and manipulation. schedule: gojo > geto > sukuna > nanami tag: will tag works #☾﹒✖☠𝘬𝘪𝘻𝘻𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘣𝘦𝘳

❝Girl, I can thrill you more than any Ghoul would ever dare try!❞

FreddyKruger!Sukuna

Kink Tags: Teratophilia, Size Difference, Virgin, Chasity Synopsis: Teens in town have been dying in their sleep from horrible dreams. Hard up virgin Y/N won't take sleeping pills to stop dreaming because she only gets relief in her wet dreams. What will happen when Sukuna (true form) enters them? wc: ?

Sadako!Geto

Kink Tags: Voyerism, Squirting, Overstimulation Synopsis: Camgirl!Reader hasn't been able to make herself squirt yet and is teased by her chat. She buys a new toy and downloads a random porn an anon user sent her "guaranteed to make you squirt" but is it just a normal porn? Or is there something more sinister on it? wc: ?

Werewolf!Toji

[Part 1 ღ Part 2] Kink Tags: Breeding, Dacryphilia, Aphrodisiac Synopsis: Catching him in a lie, you suspect your boyfriend Toji is cheating on you. Where does he keep disappearing to once a month that keeps him away for often days at a time. You're fed up. You've made up your mind this time to follow him but are you ready for what you discover? wc: 10.4k

❝You've been fucked struck by a Smooth Criminal!❞

Ghostface!Choso

[Part 1 ღ Part 2] Kink Tags: Clothed Male/Naked Female, Thigh Riding, Knife Play Synopsis: The university campus is being terrorized by a copycat Ghostface killer. As a popular sorority girl with a dumb jock bf, you are a prime choice to be his next victim especially given how he can't stop thinking about you. But you're no ordinary Sorority Girl bimbo, now are you? wc: 15.4k

Hannibal!Nanami

Kink Tags: Olfactophilia, Body Worship, Menophilia Synopsis: You're immensely grateful for your kind, empathetic and open-minded (not to mention very handsome) psychiatrist Nanami who has gotten you through some very rough patches in your life. However when you show up at his home office for unannounced session and discover him preparing dinner, are you whats next on the menu? wc: ?

InvisibleMan!Gojo

Kink Tags: Mirror Sex, Frottage, Stalker Synopsis: Fed up with his antics and him ignoring you, you breakup with your tech genius boyfriend Gojo. It's been a month and you've started to move on with your life but odd occurrences have been happening around you and you have the feeling you are being watched 24/7. You need a vacay and your friend Shoko offers up her lake cabin. Will you be safe there? Or will whoever is watching you have you right where they want you? wc: ?

BONUS: Free for all section of general Halloween themes if I finish all the rest or need to do a quick drabble to cure writer's block.

*OUT NOW* mlist: That's Not My JJK Man! - teaser

Incubus!Geto - coming soon

The Hills Have Eyes Choso P1 *new*

Why you can’t watch scary movies with JJK men - Drabble, 2k words

Trick or Treat Anthology or Halloween Fluff with JJK Men - Fic 10k

JJK Men Slutty Halloween Costumes - Ask thirst

©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or gfx, do not translate.

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cooliestghouliest · 11 months ago

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THE MIDDLE BEDROOM

PAIRING: established Billy/Reader relationship, bff!Eddie is a Peeping Tom

TAGS and C/W’s: this is basically just smut (which means 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI), pining undertones, oral (f!receiving), Billy's filthy mouth, SPIT, Eddie's a pervert but Billy's kinda setting him up so really Eddie is just advantageous, m!masturbation, unprotected PiV

WORD COUNT: 3.4k+

A/N: hi, my friends!!! this is a rewrite/repost and has been edited for a (hopefully) smoother, more enjoyable read. basically, i’m trying to revamp everything i’ve published in hopes that an inspiration bug crawls deep, deep inside me and just fucking explodes, leaving only creativity and motivation to replace all of my blood and oxygen. it’s almost 2024, who needs to bleed and breathe anyway??? please remember that likes are greatly appreciated, but comments and reblogs are what make the writer’s world go round. :-) <33

—

It happened at Rick Lipton's annual Halloween party. '86, baby.

There were many nameless faces wandering about the bungalow, all in varying states of sobriety. Eddie only recognized a handful of people, one of them being Billy Hargrove... and the other being you, Eddie's best friend, but also Hargrove's drop-dead, knock-the-fuck-out gorgeous girlfriend.

Eddie had overheard someone guess that you were dressed as a witch. Someone else guessed that you were dressed as Stevie Nicks. With a shrug, you'd answered, "Those are the same thing," like it was the most obvious certainty in the entire world.

You were in a sheer black off-the-shoulder maxi dress, the form-fitting fabric tight in all the right places. There was a long, gracious slit down the side that ran from hip to foot. When you moved in a certain way, Eddie could see that you were wearing black suede thigh-high boots, a little kitten heel clicking against the hardwood floors as you walked.

Right up to him.

"Hi, Eddie," you'd greeted with a smile, eyes wide and welcoming. You swirled the train of your dress a bit, swaying along to some Joni Mitchell song playing in the background. "Happy Halloween."

Eddie didn't get the chance to answer, though he was sure he'd have ended up stumbling over his words anyway, because you just looked so pretty tonight. He was only able to return the smile before Billy appeared beside you.

"Hey, man," Hargrove prompted, Eddie watching as the honey blonde rested lucky fingers on the small of your back. The other palm extended to clap Eddie on the shoulder a few times. "You bring it?"

"Yeah, it's just... uh..." Eddie dug his hand around in the front pockets of his jeans, then in the back pockets of his jeans, then eventually found what he was looking for in the pocket of his denim jacket, bypassing a broken button to reach for the little baggie in question.

As he was about to pull it out, Billy’s hand gripped his forearm, halting him. "Not here," Hargrove instructed. He stepped an inch closer to Eddie, voice lowering to just above a whisper. Eddie had to dip his head forward to try and hear the blonde over the music and commotion around them. "Come upstairs. Like fifteen minutes. Middle bedroom." At Eddie's confused expression (they were at a Halloween party thrown by Hawkins' most profitable drug dealer, for fuck's sake -- who the hell would care about a little coke?), Billy fashioned him a grin, stepping back. "Don't need everybody knowing my business and shit, ya know?"

Eddie guessed that was a decent enough explanation, so he shrugged the absurdity off. He'd always thought Billy was a little weird, anyway. And coming from Eddie Munson, the biggest fucking weirdo of all, that characterization spoke volumes.

After that, you and Billy disappeared. Eddie had followed the tail-end of your dress until you were lost in a sea of strangers, then decided to try and push the rest of the weed he had onto other partygoers, wanting to leave tonight with his current debt to Rick paid and his lunch box full of fresh goodies for the new month ahead.

It was exactly fifteen minutes later that Eddie began his ascent of the stairs to Rick's second floor. He weaved in and out of groping couples, stepped over sleeping Lettermen, and gave a tight-lipped smile to a group of girls that stumbled out of the bathroom and slammed right into him. He stepped to the side, giving them the right of way, before crossing the hallway to his destination: the middle bedroom.

The door was shut, so Eddie knocked. Waited a few seconds, then knocked again.

Still with no answer, he took a large step back, surveying the other doors around him to verify he hadn't gotten turned around and was in fact standing in front of the right room, which he was.

Eddie huffed a sigh. He glanced around the hallway again, checking to see if maybe Hargrove was just running late, but there was no blonde mullet in sight.

Figuring Billy must have been inside and was just... busy or something (actively ignoring him? suddenly gone deaf?), Eddie brought his hand to the knob to twist it and enter.

The room was mostly dark. Not exactly pitch black, thanks to a streetlight seen through the big bay window, but still dark enough that Eddie needed to blink rapidly several times to adjust his eyes to the new lighting.

His immediate thought was that Billy must have either forgotten to meet him up here or had ditched the party entirely and left the dealer packing with a now homeless dimebag of blow.

Off to the right, however, was a thick slab of pale-yellow light emanating from a partially closed door. It was the bathroom, which Eddie knew from sleeping in this very bedroom more than a handful of times since first meeting Rick Lipton a few years back.

And that’s when Eddie started to hear it.

Or, as he would soon come to find out, hear you.

He had at first mistaken the quick, soft breaths of air for sounds of pain or distress, which was why he'd begun inching towards the bathroom in the first place.

But now, standing in the shadow of the ajar door, he was able to peek inside. At the sight before him, Eddie felt his eyes widen, and a prickling warmth started to spread throughout his body.

Those were definitely not sounds of pain or distress.

Billy sat kneeled in front of where you were currently spread out on the bathroom counter. Your knees were hiked up towards your chest, your dress laying in a heap on the ground, and you were left only in a bright red bra. And those goddamn suede thigh-highs.

He should have walked away right then, he knew that. He was going to, really, but then you arched your back, your head falling lax behind you, and the fucking obscene moan you let out had Eddie biting down so hard on his bottom lip that he tasted blood.

How was he supposed to leave now?

He couldn't help himself.

You were just... you.

Thoughtful, generous, creative. You went out of your way to ensure no one ever felt judged or left out; you were known to drop everything without debate in order to help anyone who really needed it; you let him host Hellfire in your basement when the club needed a new location in a pinch, and even helped him plot twists in his campaigns.

Truly, Eddie had a very hard time seeing what you saw in that prick Billy Hargrove, but that was something to ponder at a later point. Because right now, Eddie was getting to see you in a position he'd only ever dreamed of seeing you in.

When would he ever get this chance again?

Eddie refused to think too deeply into this, deciding to pretend he didn't have a moral compass for a bit. It was probably bad. Likely even made him a pervert, but he'd been called much worse, so he figured he'd just add this one to the list now, too.

He wasn't exactly sure how he was going to be able to face either one of you again, but his feet just weren't working when his brain tried to tell them to move, and now his cock was starting to fill out the confines of his jeans in a way that had him seeking the relief of the doorframe, his hips acting of their own accord, finding a slow, rocking rhythm.

Billy had his palms splayed out on either side of your inner thighs, holding your legs open. Eddie quickly grew irritated that he couldn't see exactly what the blonde's tongue was doing. He thought that if he couldn't be the one with his own face buried against you, he wanted to at least have an unobstructed, close-up view.

He wanted to see Hargrove's lips wet with your slick, wanted to watch them wrap around your aching clit and suck until you tried to push him away. If Eddie could, he'd hold your arms down while Billy devoured you, wanting you to feel so much pleasure it was borderline painful.

He was pulled out of his fantasy by the sound of Billy's voice, raspy and teasing. "Love when you give me this sloppy fucking cunt," he said, the words themselves demeaning but his tone singing nothing but praises. Billy lowered his head back down, giving you a few long, loud licks.

Eddie knew he himself could be theatrical, but Billy Hargrove was dramatic in his own ways, and it did certainly seem like the blonde loved to hear the sound of his own voice. Apparently, eating pussy and its associated noises fell under this umbrella of Hargrove Histrionics.

Billy pulled his head back to spit several times on your well-loved cunt. Eddie didn't dare to blink as the other man brought two fingers to spread your lips and spit again, this time with your hardened nub as target. Both him and Billy watched intently as the saliva dripped slowly down your slit, past your empty hole, and leaked off of you entirely to darken an already present wet spot on Hargrove's blue jeans.

And fuck, you loved it.

With each assault of Billy's spit, you let out faint little gasps (fucking cute, Eddie had thought), body jolting at the contact, your eyes fluttering open and shut as the moisture filled in every curve of your core.

"So fucking messy, aren't you?" Billy taunted, his free hand moving to palm at his clothed length. Eddie was relieved to see Hargrove finally begin to touch himself, honestly impressed at the self-control the blonde had to disregard his pleasure and focus solely on yours. "Makes it feel so good when I finally fuck this thick cock inside you," he continued, unzipping his jeans as he stood. "You think this pussy's ready to soak me?"

Eddie felt like his skin was boiling. He wished he could eliminate some layers. Or all layers, preferably.

You were staring earnestly up at your boyfriend, a desperate pout on your face as you nodded in vigor. "Please, Billy," you begged, and Eddie couldn't take it any longer. He needed to fist his cock raw, having had enough of this grinding against the wall bullshit.

At the same time Billy dropped his jeans, Eddie did the same, pulling himself out of his boxer briefs. He muffled a groan of relief by biting down on the knuckles of his free hand, his other wrapping around the girth of his dick and just squeezing. He didn’t want to give in before Billy had gotten inside you.

The blonde sure was taking his sweet fucking time though, only wetting his length by sliding himself repeatedly between your lips. You were whining, and Eddie could tell you were trying to angle your hips in such a way that it would trip Billy up and he would slip inside. Good girl, get that fucking cock, Eddie thought, impatient and eager to cum, but not wanting to do so without first catching a glimpse at what you looked like stuffed and fucked full.

"Hmm, I dunno," Billy provoked, tapping his cock against your cunt with loud slaps. "Feels really good just like this, baby. Maybe I'll use the outside to fuck myself instead, cum all over this pretty little pussy, make an even bigger mess. You want that?"

You and Eddie both shook your heads at the same time.

You gave a grumble of annoyance (more of like a testy whimper, really) and brought a hand up to slap playfully at Billy's chest. "Fuck me, Billy," you demanded, your voice throaty and yearning. You dropped the hand at his chest to circle his cock, wrapping delicate fingers around his own and helping to stroke. "Need it inside."

"Oh, you need it, greedy girl?" It appeared he was going to listen to you, much to yours and Eddie's respite, because he lined himself up against your hole with one hand, the other moving to wrap around the nape of your neck. "I didn't know that. I gotta give my girl what she needs then. Can't have anyone thinking I don't take care of you."

Finally -- finally -- Eddie watched as Billy took one thrust to bury his cock inside you completely, the blonde releasing a loud, lewd moan. Eddie gave his own throbbing, sweat-slick length the same treatment, fucking into his fist from tip to base until he felt his tightening balls press against his twitching fingers.

You looked better stretched open than Eddie could have ever imagined -- a natural flush glowed on your skin, your bottom lip tugged tight between your upper teeth, your brows furrowed deep.

Your eyes rolled back as Billy began to move, a satisfied moan escaping your lips at the pace he was setting. The sound, contented yet desperate, was music to Eddie's ears. He wanted to record it and hear it on loop -- as a wake-up call, an afternoon pick-me-up, a bedtime lullaby.

Your hands moved to rest on either side of the surface of the sink below you, supporting your weight as Billy rocked into you with long, languid thrusts. Eddie tried to match Hargrove's pace with the stroke of his hand, envisioning it was his own cock giving you exactly what you needed.

You must have felt fucking good to be buried deep inside of, because Billy, always with something to say, was awfully quiet now.

He watched the other man's face through the reflection in the mirror, saw as Billy's baby blues fervently took in the sight underneath him, knowing he himself would be donning the same expression if positions were switched. Eddie knew Hargrove was admiring your perfect tits bouncing with the force of each thrust, knew he was lost in the dissipated doe-eyes that stared back up at him like he hung the fucking moon, when in reality he was just feeding your cunt some very well-deserved cock.

When your mouth dropped open unprompted, your pink tongue sticking out as far as it could go, that was the beginning of the end for Eddie. Both men knew exactly what you were asking for. Hargrove smirked approvingly at the sight before him, and he slowed the speed of his hips for better accuracy. He gathered as much saliva in his mouth as he could before leaning over you, parting his lips and letting gravity do its job.

Once your mouth was filled, Billy brought a hand to your jaw, forcing it shut. "Don't swallow," he instructed, his thrusts no longer slow and unhurried, but now posthaste and unrelenting.

Eddie could feel the familiar tingle in his lower abdomen, alerting him that his release was maybe a minute away. He fleetingly realized that he was going to have to very quickly clean his upcoming mess and get the hell out of the room before he was caught, but his attention was reeled back in when he heard a series of deep, breathless grunts.

"Okay, shit... spit it out now, baby," Billy was muttering, speech rushed, his head dipped to stare unwaveringly at where your bodies connected. "Oh fuck, spit on my fucking cock."

Eddie watched as you leaned yourself forward, angling your head down to release the spit you'd been holding in from your mouth, just adding to the noisy wetness between your legs.

And that did it. The visual — someone as soft and sweet as you doing something so filthy — had Eddie's toes curling in on themselves in his gym shoes, his hand pulsating around his cock to mimic a clenching cunt as he fucked himself into it. His release spilled out over his fist, dampening the ground below him and the bathroom doorframe. He saw stars.

Billy had followed Eddie right off the brink, muttering praises and obscenities interchangeably as you both came down from your highs. "Listen so well, dirty fucking girl. Always make me cum so hard, fuck, this pussy's so fucking full of me right now."

The sound of the quiet giggles urged out of you by Billy's tickling kisses on your neck were what brought Eddie back to the present reality. He wasn't back at home watching the hottest fucking porno he'd ever seen -- no, he was actually standing in a dimly lit bedroom, covered in his own cum, having just spied on his best friend while she got railed by her boyfriend.

Shit.

Eddie's moral compass came back with a vengeance. He cringed as he rubbed his sticky fingers on the inside of his band tee to clean them, not wanting anyone to catch a glimpse of crusty white as he made his getaway. He found a towel in a laundry basket and wiped away any remnants of his release from the wall and floor, then tossed it back into the hamper.

Not even able to glance back into the bathroom, his skin now heated from shame and embarrassment rather than arousal, Eddie buttoned up his jeans and hurried out of the room, ready to try and forget that all of that just happened.

About ten minutes later, he was perched against his van about a block from Rick's, where he'd parked. He was smoking a cigarette, having finally began to cool off and calm down. If he tried hard enough, he was sure he could convince himself this was all a really vivid hallucination, and maybe he'd be able to compartmentalize his moment of perversion that way.

He just needed to stay away from the two of you for a little while.

But then, because of course...

"Munson!"

Eddie quietly groaned, taking a deep drag off his cigarette to quell his already rapidly growing nerves from just the sound of the other man's voice alone. He turned to face Billy, plastering what he hoped was an easygoing grin on his face.

"Hey, man," Eddie greeted, his voice surprisingly steady.

Billy held his hands up in a 'What the fuck?' kind of way, brows furrowed. "Thought we had a plan," the blonde replied, stopping just a foot away from the tall metalhead. One side of Hargrove's mouth lifted. He looked predatory. Eddie fought back a hard swallow. "Did you even come upstairs?"

"What..." Eddie's brain went blank at the question. Or was it an accusation? It definitely sounded like one, but Billy didn't seem mad. The blonde was just staring at him expectantly, waiting for an answer.

"Y'know," Billy continued. "Because I told you to meet me in the middle bedroom? For the coke?" What had started as the slight of a smirk had turned into a full-blown grin on Hargrove's face. "You good, Munson? Lookin' a little spooked.”

To this, Eddie sobered his expression, shaking his head. "No, just like, busy night, that's all," Eddie answered lamely. Maybe Billy really didn't know. Maybe Eddie was just hyper-paranoid about having been caught that he was reading too deeply into this. After all, wouldn't Hargrove have been pissed to find out he'd been spying? Wouldn't he already have Eddie pinned against the van, spewing threats? "Lotsa deals. Kinda forgot about yours, my bad. Here, lemme get it..."

Eddie began digging around in his pockets, having forgotten again where the coke was. He blamed the alarms of anxiety going off in his brain (thoughts like fuck, he probably knows, which means she knows, and now she's gonna fucking hate me plaguing him).

But Billy said, "Don't worry about it, I'm good. Got my energy hit a little bit ago." The blonde then looked like he had remembered something, and began looking in his own pockets, "Shit, actually. Ya know what? I have something for you."

Eddie was sure the look of confusion on his face was readable. This whole night was turning out to be a fucking fever dream. He didn't think anything else could happen to make it any more surreal.

And then Billy was reaching his hand out to give Eddie something, that I-know-something-you-don't smirk present again, and Eddie took it without looking. He just wanted Billy to walk away so he could go crawl into the back of his van and smoke himself stupid to avoid any and all realizations and repercussions.

"See you ‘round," were Billy's parting words and Eddie just nodded dumbly, mute, and watched him go.

Once Hargrove was out of sight, Eddie opened his hand. At first, it just looked like an unassuming wad of fabric, maybe a sock or something, small compared to the size of his palm.

Eddie unraveled it, holding it out in front of him, and then very quickly tossed it inside his open passenger window, eyes darting around to make sure no one had seen what Billy Hargrove had just given him —

The matching pair of panties to your bright red bra.

#billy x reader #billy hargrove x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #mungrove x reader #billy hargrove smut #eddie munson smut

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cas-writes-stuff-ig · 9 months ago

Text

Part 2 of Cheering Her Up (A Party)

f!/nb! reader x regina george

CONTENT:

Word Count: 3094

Reader is working on performing for the Winter Talent Show

singing for Regina

secret relationship

Jealous Regina

Jealous Reader

smut (shower sex) (drunk sex) (jealousy)

kinda will get angsty after this

(those band geeks/people who play music in the background in the new Mean Girls movie? yeah that's who the reader is friends with)

Part 1 of Cheering Her Up

Part 3 of Cheering Her Up

a/n:

this was supposed to be a one-shot but idk I had an idea because i get inspired by songs and then make up scenarios in my head. its gonna get a little sadder soon so sorry DW they'll end up together <3

Soona is a person who was apologized to, who plays music in the background for the songs (plays guitar and drums)

("Soona, I'm sorry I said you were dragging during 'Revenge Party' There was just like, so much pressure on us to move the story forward through the montage. Like you know how it is" (1:22:24 in the movie))

I made Soona date the girl in the beanie (plays bass and drums)

I heavily based this off the 2024 version, but I switched around some of the events back to 2004

(2004: October Party/Aaron and Regina get back together -> Talent Show -> Aaron and Regina break up -> "You can't sit with us" -> Burn Book scene)

(2024: October Party/Aaron and Regina get back together -> Aaron and Regina break up -> Talent Show -> "You can't sit with us" -> Burn Book scene)

Regina finished her brownie and you scarfed yours down unceremoniously. You covered your mouth and spoke while you chewed “Shit sorry, I’ve been smelling brownies for an hour and I was starving” she just rolled her eyes at you. “Want another?”

Regina paused a pained expression painted her face for a moment, then she put her wall back up “I’m fine thanks”

You decided to let it go and then the front door opened, “Regina?” her mom walked in “You having a party in here?” you grabbed your phone and turned down the music.

Regina's little sister Kylie ran inside after her mom and waved at you excitedly. Kylie liked it when you were around because you'd scold Regina if she was being mean to her. Kylie just ran up to her room to change.

“Hey mom” Regina greeted but she was dismissive as most kids are with their parents

“Hi Mrs. George,” her mom liked you, but she was naive to the true nature of your relationship with her daughter. You grinned “I made brownies, sorry it’s a mess. I’ll clean it up”

“Oh! That’s so nice of you. Thank you, hun, don’t worry about the dishes, darling” She put her bag down walked toward the sink, and started washing them. “I’ve got it, I know you guys have homework. Regina be nice yeah?”

Her mom said that every time you were over because the first time you were at her house, you worked with Regina at the kitchen table, and she heard her daughter call you “…a fucking nerd”

“Yeah, whatever Mom,” she stood up and started walking toward the stairs. You thanked her mom, rushed to take off the apron, hung it up, and dashed up the stairs. She walked into her room, and you soon followed inside and shut the door.

She just slipped back into her bed and went on her phone. You sat on the bed and kicked off your shoes, and were worried “Hey ‘Gina?”

“Mm?” She looked up at you briefly, and then back down at her phone.

You paused and didn’t say anything for a moment “…Gina, do you wanna talk about what happened earlier?” That same pained expression panned over her face. You just touched her knee and rubbed soothing circles into it. "It's okay if you don't wanna talk about it."

She sighed, "It's just me, don't worry about it, kay?" you gave her a look.

She then pulled you to lay next to her and lifted your arm to lay on your shoulder, head resting at the crook of your neck. "I won't push it" you added after she got comfortable.

She pulled out her phone and rested it on your stomach scrolling through her apps. You took your own phone out and checked your grades on there. Regina opened her camera roll, the most recent item was a short video of you, you immediately recognized your own voice and she had this shit-eating grin on her face.

It was you just fifteen minutes ago, you watched yourself wearing the rather girly apron, singing, and pulling brownies out of the oven. "Regina! Oh my God, delete that, please. That's actually so embarrassing" you face palmed.

She laughed and said "Absolutely not," and sat up "Don't worry, it's for my eyes only" She told the truth because she couldn't show the video to anyone else or else they'd ask what you're doing in her house baking brownies for.

"You're so mean to me," you said with no real bite in your voice. "Your mom said to be nice to me Regina" You didn't ask her again to delete it, because once she made a decision she usually stuck by it, she always got her way with you.

She scoffed and said "I am being nice" and leaned back toward you, kissing your collarbone. It made you stop breathing for a moment, your body got stiff as she kept kissing your neck.

"God Regina, I have homework" you mustered out, she left a dark red hickey that peaked out just a little bit from your shirt, then she licked your neck "Shit" she was getting you worked up.

"It's fucking Friday tomorrow loser, chill out, it can wait an hour" She whispered seductively in your ear. Regina was right though so you submitted to her whims

——————————————————————————————

"Duck, stay the night" She leaned against the bed sheets.

"Okay princess," you rolled your eyes "Anything for you," you said sarcastically, but you meant it. Regina pointed towards her closet and you found some of her more comfortable loose shirts to wear to bed. "Can I grab my guitar to practice for maybe thirty minutes though? Me and my group are practicing some songs for the Winter Talent show"

"Are you singing?" Regina asked smiling.

"If you make fun of me, I'll sleep in my fucking car, Regina" You made an empty threat. "I'm playing guitar, and doing background vocals. I'm the main singer for the last song only. I just wanna practice with the music in the back"

Your band for the Talent Show consisted of people from the Band Geeks (though you weren't part of the school band yourself). The four of you were versatile in your music skills, also being able to sing lead and backup interchangeably.

You only practiced one of your songs and opted to play ones you knew well for Regina. "I thought it was only one song?" Regina asked you.

"Thought I'd show off a little bit" you looked down at the fret board, she watched your fingers move.

"You serenading me Duck?"

——————————————————————————————

You cozied into her arms too easily, over the summer, spending nights with her had conditioned you to never get up before 10AM. So you couldn't rely on your body clock to wake you up.

You set an alarm for 7AM so she could do her makeup and choose an outfit. You had left a small amount of clothes in her wardrobe that was neatly hidden away, for the nights you slept over.

In the morning you brushed her hair back and pressed a kiss to her forehead "Gina babe, you gotta get up" I brought you the brownies I made.

She sat up and smiled at you "Thanks Ducky" Shit, that smile could send you to the stars.

"Of course Gina"

——————————————————————————————

That day, at the cafeteria. You slipped off your backpack and sat down across the table from Janis, and Damian. It was the third week of your Junior year.

You never stayed for the entire duration of lunch, just to eat and run to a study room where you could get some actual silence or hang out with the Soona and band you were friends with. And you never knew that Janis and Damian were using Cady to take Regina down.

Damian gasped dramatically, it surprised you. "What's that on your neck!?" Shit, your backpack moved your shirt down revealing part of the hickey Regina gave you. Some heads turned toward your table.

Janis looked "Who you hook up with?" They both leaned in.

You were bright red "No one" You and Regina actually hid your secret pretty well, which you both greatly appreciated. But you hung out with a few people, which is why they pushed harder for an answer.

Damian leaned forward "Who?"

"No one, leave it," You said, it came out a little mean since you were stressed. "Sorry" you decided to tell part of the truth and you softened up "They're not out yet, I can't say" they yielded and switched gears.

"Is that why you've been all glow-y this semester? Your face has gay painted all fucking over it." Damian gestured with his hands pointing at you.

"Please stop talking" You pressed your temples

"Fine" They changed the topic.

"Oh Cady told us of a party happening tonight," Janis said, but you didn't really pay attention

You said "Okay" and then just looked down at your phone and texted Regina. Her contact on your phone was discreet enough, it was just her initials backward. The only thing that hinted that it could be Regina was the picture of a Jeep from the internet.

You knew your contact name, but of course, you had a rubber ducky as a profile picture on her phone.

Duck: "G, they saw the mark you left yesterday"

GR: "so what? you didn't say anything right?"

Duck: "no of course not"

GR: "then we're fine"

You could see Regina looking down at her phone too where she sat with the Plastics and Cady.

You kept observing Regina, Gretchen was next to her and leaned over. "Who's 'Duck'? New guy?"

"Jesus Gretchen, haven't you heard of privacy?" Regina scolded her.

——————————————————————————————

After school, you drove home and Facetimed Regina "Party tonight right?" you asked.

"Mmhm, you gonna go?" Regina was also rummaging through her clothes

"Yeah," you said and put on just a black T-shirt, jeans, and a brown jacket. "How do I look?" You propped your phone up to show her.

"Lame, but fine" Regina responded

"That was mean Gina" It stung a little but you were fine. "Oh remind me to send you the set list we're practicing," You asked her.

"Shit, gotta go Duck. Karen, Gretchen, and Cady are coming to my house to get ready" She looked at the messages on her phone "I'll see you later" she quickly hung up. You changed your shirt to a loose tank top, which revealed your toned arms and the hickey, you wanted to exact a little revenge on Regina and make her a little jealous.

——————————————————————————————

Soona and the gang brought you to the party. You've been at this guy's house party three times over the summer. You grabbed a red solo cup and took it to the dance floor, and your friends joined you.

You normally didn't get this drunk unless you were with only a few people, because you lost your inhibitions a little too much. The only thing on your mind was Regina. Regina. Regina. Regina.

Your head buzzed and you looked for the familiar blonde, she was in the middle of the dance floor grinding up against some jock, which happened to be Shane Oman.

You got jealous, and when you were drunk you didn't think thoroughly. Regina didn't fuck anyone else besides you for a while, you understood 'friends with benefits' implied you were not obligated to monogamy.

You had decided to mess with Regina a little more, you joined a girl who was known for queer baiting, you didn't kiss her, but you definitely got touchy, she was lifting your shirt a little. You felt Regina staring daggers at you.

After a while, you excused yourself to the upstairs bathroom where there were far fewer people here. You wondered if that was enough to get a rise out of Regina. Then a knock at the door. "Occupied" you yelled out.

"Let me in, bitch" It was Regina's voice.

'Oh shit' You thought. You wanted to anger her enough that she texted you to come over to her house, but she broke your unspoken rule to not approach each other at parties or school. You opened the door "Shit Regina. No one saw you come in here ri-"

She slammed the door shut and shoved you against the wall, her left hand snaked around your neck, not enough to restrict air, but enough to show you how mad she was. "You're stupid," she said angrily. You looked up at her, your head still buzzed.

"Gina I-" You tried speak, but her hand squeezed a little tighter for a moment, before loosening her grip to grab your jaw.

"I'm gonna leave this party, and you're gonna meet me down this fucking block. We're going home" Regina's voice was full of venom. "Do you understand?" you could smell the alcohol on her breath, and the smell of her perfume.

You let out a faint "Yes"

——————————————————————————————

She called an Uber and you stood behind her like a kicked puppy. You were in deep shit. It was already 2AM when you left the party so everyone in Regina's house was asleep.

When you got to her house she practically dragged you up the stairs and pushed you onto the bed roughly "The fuck you think you were doing at that party?" She's never been so angry at you before.

"Regina, I'm sorry I-" you stuttered, she was mad at you and it scared you. But the alcohol in your blood and the way she towered over you, making you feel helpless, made your core ache with need.

She stripped off her shirt and straddled your hips, Regina took your arms and held them above your head. "You're a fucking tease" You were both still incredibly drunk.

"Regina, I'm sorry let me make it up to you" You pleaded with her.

She wore a mean smile "And how do you plan on doing that baby" You tried to wriggle yourself out of her grip, but she used her entire body to keep you down.

The more you tried to escape, the more pathetic you looked. Face flushed, pinned under the prettiest girl you've ever seen. "Shit, I'll do whatever you ask Gina, just say the word"

"Yeah baby?" she smiled "Whatever I ask?"

"Yes," you said breathily, though it was hot, you were scared of losing her favor. You wanted to be in her life as much as possible, you were obsessed. Anything to please her.

"Strip, get in the shower" She let go of your arms, climbed off you, and rid herself of the rest of her clothes. She turned her back towards you and walked toward the bathroom, then without turning, she crooked her finger, telling you to come follow her.

She didn't need to turn around to know you were watching her every movement. She turned the shower on and walked inside "Kneel" You did, she looked at your mouth and then down between her legs. Water beat down your back. "You know what to do baby" You nodded and started to gently kiss her clit, "Don't tease, just get on with it" Your slow kisses to her pussy turned into you sucking on it hard.

You looked up at her, and you made eye contact. She moaned then said "Keep that up baby, and I might forgive you" she gripped the back of your hair and it made you whine into her pussy. "Fuck- use your fingers too babe" Coating your fingers in her slick before slipping two fingers inside of her.

"God you feel so good," she said as you started rhythmically curling your fingers inside her cunt, you took your free hand and held her up. "Oh fuck" she arched her back and pushed her hips hard into your face. You kept your pace while she rode out her orgasm. She pulled your head away, and when she let go you just kissed her thighs.

"You satisfied, Gina?" you still were on your knees she brought you up and kissed you

"No, nerd. I wanna break you" Regina knelt now and saw her there you ached for her to just get on with it. Eating her out pulled obscene sounds out of her and made you wet, and she swiped a finger through your slit. "You're so wet," Then she slid two fingers inside. "If I let you finish, you gonna promise to be good for me, baby?"

Her thumb started to circle your clit "Sh-shit, yes Gina"

"Look at me" you looked down and she pressed your clit hard.

"Fuck Regina, I'll be good" you swore.

"Promise me?"

"Promise" You gasped out as she increased her pace.

Heat gathered in your stomach and your skin felt hot. You closed your eyes and tilted your head back, moaning Regina's name like a prayer. "Gina- fuck, I-"

"Words baby" Regina cooed.

You panted trying to speak, you finally gasped out "Gina, can I finish, please? please?"

She smirked "Only because you're so cute when you beg" She sped up "Come for me, come for your owner baby"

You covered your mouth in fear of waking up everyone in the house. Your body felt like a firework, and Regina knew how to play you like a violin.

She stood and kissed you, and her anger had dissolved. Just as you regained your breath, there she was to steal it away from you again.

You knew Regina was a bitch, but you couldn't help but melt into her touch when she washed your hair or kissed your shoulder. Her attention was intoxicating.

——————————————————————————————

You lay in bed with Regina and brushed her hair behind her ear. "Gina, about you kissing Shane tonight." you paused to really think about your words. "I know we aren't together like that, but you know me, if you start dating someone else, whatever we have has to stop"

She hesitated for a second "Of course Duck" she paused again "I only did it to keep up my reputation" Regina said. It was partially true if you wanted to keep up the secret. Regina had to play her part, she had to conform, it was comphet but you didn't bring up your thoughts to her.

"Gina, I'm sorry I was acting like that at the party" You apologized for making her jealous. You knew why you were jealous, but not why she was. Did she like you? Did she just want to fuck you? You never would expect anything beyond sex and friendship from her even if it broke you inside.

But she read you easily "Hey babe, did you get jealous?" she was smug about it, and you crossed your arms. "You did huh?" She provoked you but she held your face so gently and rubbed your cheek with her thumb, that you felt your attraction to her fall far deeper than you could control.

She gave you butterflies whenever she was around. You just responded with "I'm sorry"

"It's cute, Duck, you're fine. But don't do that again yeah?" She kept holding your face "At least not with that bitch you were dancing with, she’s such a loser babe"

"Yeah, fine fine. But anyone who isn’t you or your gang is a loser to you” you teased.

"Whatever. Now come here and hold me, baby" She had you wrapped around her little finger, more so than anyone else. You felt your feelings for Regina grow, but you didn't dare to confess. You didn't want to lose what you had.

You lay on your back and Regina laid her head on your chest, then you were stroking her back and held her close to you. You kissed her forehead sweetly and lovingly, earning an adorable 'Mm', and you were getting slowly coaxed into sleep by her gentle steady breathing.

Part 3 of Cheering Her Up

#regina george x reader #fluff #smut #renee rapp #regina george #mean girls #renee rapp x reader #mean girls 2024

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loveinhawkins · 7 months ago

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passing period

ao3 written for @steddiemicrofic May 2024 prompt, “top,” 510 words. Rated G, Missing Scene, post season 1, cw: brief mentions of nausea & vomiting.

The sleepless nights catch up with Steve eventually. He doesn’t know what pushes him over the edge exactly—whether it’s the brightness of the hallway, or even the movement of his bag, the strap rubbing against the bare skin of his shoulder—just knows that he’s tilting suddenly, mid-step.

Before he can slam against the lockers, he feels a hand around his forearm, a quiet, “Bathroom?”

Steve nods through clenched teeth.

He flings his bag off just in time as he’s steered into a stall—promptly throws up into the toilet.

It’s over in what feels like a blink; more time must’ve passed though, because the usual chatter in between classes has faded away.

Over the flush of the toilet, Steve hears a voice outside the stall, “You contagious, Harrington?”

Steve rubs one eye. “No,” he says curtly.

“Darn. Was hoping for a ticket outta class.”

Steve opens the door to find Eddie Munson leaning by the sinks. He’s got Steve’s bag slung over his shoulder, safe from the clinging damp of the tiles.

“Dude, you’re gonna be so late.”

Eddie checks his watch lazily. “Nah, I like a dramatic entrance. Always fun watching the light leave O’Donnell’s eyes.”

“Doesn’t she, like, take marks off for shit like that?” Steve says passively, washing his hands—it just seems like the kind of thing to ask, especially since most seniors have been hurrying around all December, faces pinched with stress.

Evidently not Eddie Munson.

“Yeah, don’t think that’d make a difference,” he says, and maybe the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes this time. “Not exactly top of the class.”

Steve shrugs in vague acknowledgement. Briefly presses his palms to his eyes, blessedly cool from the water—doesn’t really think anything of it until he drops his hands, sees Eddie just looking at him, a slight crease to his forehead.

Steve feels far too drained to even try and figure out whatever he’s noticed.

“You okay?” Eddie asks quietly.

Steve doesn’t know what to do with the question, too bare in its sincerity; there’s no expected space for him to make a quip back, to play it off.

“Just tired,” he says, “that’s all.”

“Mm-hmm, that’ll kill ya in the end,” Eddie says, sing-song.

Freak, Steve thinks mildly.

“Hey, uh, who d’you have right now, Harrington?”

Steve has to think about it, his timetable hazy.

“Um… Mundy.”

Eddie makes a face. “My condolences.”

As Steve dries his hands, he hears the rustle of paper, a quick pen scrawl.

“Here,” Eddie says.

Steve turns. Eddie’s holding out his bag to him; Steve takes it, before being handed something else: a hall pass bearing a convincing copy of Mundy’s signature.

“In case anyone gives you shit. Folks are still kinda, y’know,” Eddie wiggles his hand back and forth, “since the whole Will Byers thing.”

“Yeah,” Steve says. “I know.” He folds the hall pass. “Um, thanks. How much—?”

But Eddie waves him off. “Nah, that’s your free sample.” He opens the bathroom door, glances back with parting words: “And I’d take full advantage, Harrington. Go home and sleep.”

#as ever Eddie intuitively gets some things without having the full picture #pre steddie #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steddiemicrofic #steddiemicroficmay #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson

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holylulusworld · 6 months ago

Text

Go to hell

Title: Go to hell

Written for @buckybarnesbingo (Round 6)

Card: B004

Collaborator(s): Holylulusworld

Square Filled: K4: "Oh, hell no."

Ship/Main Pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x Ex!Reader

Rating: Mature

Major Tags/Triggers/Warnings: jealousy, ex! sugar babe trope, mentions of daddy kink (but no one is into it), groping, fluff, hopeful ending

Summary: He let you go.

Word Count: 1,3k+

BBB BuckyBarnesBingo 2024 masterlist

Written in Bucky’s PoV

She does it on purpose. I just know it.

Why else would she waste her beauty and grace on someone like him?

He’s old enough to be her father, and I’m sure she doesn’t have a daddy kink or daddy issues. I know her well, and she never showed any signs of being into men double her age.

She came here to my party with that man I despise the most. Not weeks ago, she was mine and screamed my name.

I said the wrong things after that night. I saw our relationship in a different light and had to make myself clear.

Now she hangs on that grandfather’s arm like a random arm candy, not the goddess she is. My girl always hated men treating her like a stupid bimbo. She is smart, and charismatic, but hides it well to play the perfect doll for this man.

I unclench my metal fist because, if I don’t, I’ll break that guy’s face. He leans closer to whisper something in her ear and Y/N giggles like a schoolgirl.

That’s not the noise she made when I whispered filthy things in her ear. She whimpered my name, and her knees buckled.

What she does with that man is all for show. She pretends to be with him to get back at me for not fulfilling her wish to make things between us official.

“If you keep in staring at her, you’ll hurt yourself,” Ayo smirks at me before turning her gaze toward the woman I was watching all night instead of enjoying the party. “I wonder how she ended up with him. I thought you and Y/N were going steady.”

“She was fun for a while,” I brush Ayo’s question off. I made my decision and won’t discuss it with people working for me. “Now the fun is over, and she can go out with whoever she wants to.”

“Says the man watching her all night,” ever the observant bodyguard she watched me all night only to find her boss staring at my ex-girlfriend…or rather sugar babe. “If that was my woman, I’d go over there and stab that old man’s face for grabbing her ass.”

“Grabbing her ass?” I jerk my head toward Y/N only to find her smiling at the guy. I exhale sharply when she pushes her ass into his crotch to grind into him.

Ayo dips her head to look at me. “It’s not too late, White Wolf.” She says before turning to take her place in the shadows to have my back like she always does. “Why don’t you go over there and show that little man whom your woman belongs to…?”

My shadow is not wrong. I could go over there and show that bastard Y/N belongs with me. But do I want to? If I step on that man’s toes, it means trouble. Even worse, Y/N will believe that I’m jealous of that old man.

“Ayo said you need my help.” I roll my eyes when Steve stands next to me. He tried to talk me into winning Y/N over the last few days. “How can I help you?” Steve smirks at me, like the cocky bastard he is. “Do you want me to bring her here? I can just throw her over my shoulder.”

“Why are you all so obsessed with her? I don’t want her back. She can fuck whoever she wants to. Even that old man’s dick,” I huff, and look away when she rubs herself against the man’s body.

“Do you want her to fuck him? Imagine she rides him, and he gets a heart attack,” Steve tries to be funny, but I can’t laugh. “She’s meant to be yours, not some old bastard’s toy.”

“She chose him,” I shrug. “And she won’t come back to me. I cannot offer what she wants from me.”

“A good dick?” Steve snickers.

“Commitment.”

“What did Beyoncé say?” God, I hate my best friend when he quotes songs. “Ah, yeah. If you like what you see put a ring on it.”

“You’re not helpful,” I sneer at Steve. “Stop quoting pop stars.”

“Punk. Beyoncé is not a pop star. She’s a goddess…” He grins before downing his drink. “If I had the chance with your girl, I’d put a ring on her finger.”

“You are a slut and love to whore around, Stevie,” I know Steve better than he knows himself. “You’ll never put a ring on a girl’s finger.”

“Maybe not her finger,” he gives me the dirtiest smirk in the history of dirty smirks. “I know better body parts to put rings on. I know that girl wearing a ring on her pussy lips.”

“I didn’t need to know that” I decide to get fresh air. If I stare at Y/N a little longer I’ll change my mind and break that old man’s face.

“Oh, hell no,” I hiss under my breath. All I wanted was to get fresh air, and now I’m staring at her backside because she had the same thought. She’s sticking her ass out, making her short dress rid up. I can see her panties, and my cock stirs in my pants. Treacherous bastard.

She turns around, and my stupid heart does somersaults when she looks me up and down. Y/N smirks, tongue poking out to wet her too-red lips. I remember she loved to leave my cock stained with her favorite color.

“You’ve got to be shitting me!” She exclaims loudly. “Where is he? What did you do to him?”

“I did nothing to your gramps. Why would I? It’s not as if he touched what’s mine,” I snap at her, and she flinches. I regret my harsh words because she turns around to not look me in the eyes.

“Well, then leave me alone. He’ll be back in a minute. At least he’s not afraid to show anyone that he loves having me around.”

She ignores me then, staring into the distance as I stand behind her to admire her ass for a little longer. “Why him?”

“Why not?” There was venom in her voice, but her shoulders shook for a second. “After you tossed me out, I had to get back up and move on.”

“By selling yourself to that slimy bastard?” I don’t know why, but I grab her arms to press her against my chest. “Tell me love.” I nuzzle her neck. “Does he fuck you as good as I did?”

“He needed someone to pretend he still got it. And I needed someone to take care of me. Love didn’t work out for me so, that’s all I get for the time being,” she answers honestly as I drop my hands to her waist. “A limp dick, and a man believing I’m nothing but a doll he can dress and show off.”

She holds her breath when I kiss her neck. “How about I remind you how good it feels to be taken care of by a man not giving a shit on you.”

“Oh, Steve will finally make a move?” I chuckle at her comeback. “I didn’t know he’s into me but why not? I’m free as a bird.”

“Come to my bedroom, doll,” she sighs at the pet name, but doesn’t give in so easily. “Forget about him.”

“I told you that I can’t do this with you any longer,” her voice trembles as she struggles to not give in to my advances. “Love wasn’t in your plans. You told me so.”

“What if…” I bite my tongue for a second and take a deep breath. Maybe she doesn’t care for the old man and his dick. But soon enough someone will come along to turn her world upside down. “I’ll put a ring on that finger one day?”

“One day?” She sounds surprised but allows me to slip my hand between her quivering thighs. I find her panties soaked, and her pussy in need of my touch.

“How about we talk about our relationship in my bedroom?” I purr in her ear. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

“I can’t leave him all alone.”

“You can,” I nip at her earlobe, “and will, baby doll. If you do, I’ll put a ring on that finger…”

Part 2

Tags in reblog.

#bucky barnes #bbb2024 #buckybarnesbingo2024 #mafia au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #Go to hell #x reader #female reader

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chiyuuchu · 3 months ago

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OMG… the virtual Angel one was so good I loved how u writer! I never thought I would find someone on here who knows about kpop…. ANYWAYS now that that’s out of the way I was thinking of a bakugou x reader also inspired by a kpop song called Bad Boy by Red Velvet…. If you can pretty please!!!

Ps since you know kiss of life tell me your favorite groups!!!!

he’s a really bad boy <3 (16th August 2024)

Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Prompt! Y/n, who is the complete opposite of Bakugou ends up in a very complicated dynamic

a/n i actually got addicted to the recommended song virtual angel and been listening to it every day! my top kpop groups are kiss of life, aespa and ive along with an honourable mention of global group katseye!

Y/N wasn’t like most of the other students at U.A. She had a reputation—one she didn’t earn by being the loudest, the strongest, or the most ambitious. No, Y/N earned her reputation by being completely unbothered by the noise around her. She was known for her calm, almost serene demeanor in the face of chaos, something that made her both admired and envied by her classmates.

Bakugou Katsuki, on the other hand, was the opposite—loud, brash, and always ready for a fight. He thrived in chaos, often causing it, and no one in their right mind would try to cross him. Well, almost no one.

From the moment Y/N walked into Class 1-A, she and Bakugou were like fire and ice. He was the explosive force that could light up a room—or burn it down—while she was the cool breeze that effortlessly put out flames without breaking a sweat. She didn’t back down, didn’t flinch, and most importantly, didn’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction when he tried to rile her up.

At first, Bakugou was intrigued by her nonchalance. Then he was frustrated. But eventually, that frustration turned into something else—something more dangerous. Bakugou, the ultimate bad boy, had fallen hard.

It wasn’t that Y/N was doing anything overt to get his attention. She was just doing what she always did—staying calm and collected, making quick work of any challenge thrown her way, and letting Bakugou’s fire burn without letting it consume her. And maybe that’s what made her so irresistible to him. She didn’t need to fight for control because she already had it—effortlessly.

One afternoon, Bakugou found himself cornering her in the training grounds. He was seething with that familiar fire, the kind that usually sent others running. But Y/N didn’t run. She simply crossed her arms, staring up at him with that same, maddeningly composed expression.

“You think you’re better than me, don’t you?” Bakugou growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, not even bothering to uncross her arms. “No. But I think you’re trying too hard to prove something.”

Bakugou’s eyes narrowed. She had a way of cutting through the bullshit, seeing right to the heart of what was really going on. It was infuriating. And maybe a little bit... attractive?

He took a step closer, his voice dropping even lower. “You think you can handle me?”

Y/N didn’t budge, didn’t blink. “I’ve been handling you so far.”

There it was again, that calm confidence that got under his skin in a way that no one else ever had. He wasn’t used to being on the back foot, wasn’t used to someone playing the game better than him. And that’s what this was—a game. One that he was determined to win.

But as Y/N turned on her heel, leaving him standing there in the training grounds, he realized something that made his heart pound in his chest. Maybe this wasn’t a game he could win. Maybe this wasn’t about winning at all. Because for the first time in his life, Bakugou Katsuki found himself wanting something he couldn’t just take. He found himself wanting her.

And the worst part? She knew it.

Y/N wasn’t stupid. She saw the way Bakugou looked at her, the way his eyes lingered a little too long when he thought she wasn’t paying attention. She saw the way he tried to goad her into reacting, to get some kind of rise out of her. But she wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction.

She wasn’t going to give in to his fire. Not when she knew that she could make him burn brighter just by staying cool.

But she couldn’t deny the thrill she got from their interactions, the way her heart beat a little faster when he was near. Maybe she liked playing this game too—liked knowing that she had the ultimate bad boy wrapped around her little finger without even trying.

Because at the end of the day, Y/N wasn’t just unbothered. She was in control. And that, more than anything, made her the most dangerous player in the game.

But even the most controlled people have a breaking point. And as Bakugou continued to push, Y/N began to wonder if she’d finally found hers. Because while she might be able to handle Bakugou, she wasn’t so sure she could handle what he was starting to make her feel.

And that scared her more than anything.

Y/N leaned casually against the wall of the training grounds, her gaze steady as Bakugou stalked toward her, his usual scowl firmly in place. He stopped just a foot away, the air between them crackling with tension.

“Something you need, Bakugou?” Y/N asked, her tone calm and indifferent.

Bakugou’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you always act like nothing gets to you? Like you’re untouchable.”

“Maybe because I am,” Y/N replied, a hint of a smirk on her lips. “Or maybe it’s because I’m not interested in playing your games.”

“You think this is a game?” he growled, stepping closer, his voice low and dangerous. “You’re not scared of me?”

“Why would I be?” Y/N shrugged, unfazed. “You’re all bark, Bakugou.”

His eyes darkened, a slow smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You really think you can handle me?”

Y/N didn’t back down, her voice soft but firm. “I’ve been handling you just fine, Bakugou. Question is, can you handle me?”

The training grounds echoed with the sound of rapid footsteps and the crackling of explosions as Y/N and Bakugou clashed in an intense sparring match. Sweat dripped down Bakugou’s forehead as he launched himself at Y/N with a powerful blast, but she moved with the grace of someone who had done this a hundred times before, dodging his attack with ease.

“Too slow, Bakugou,” Y/N taunted, a sly smile playing on her lips.

Bakugou growled, frustration simmering beneath the surface. “Shut up and fight me properly!”

“Gladly.”

Y/N’s movements were fluid, almost effortless, as she weaved through his explosive attacks. With a calculated flick of her wrist, she created a powerful shockwave that sent him staggering back. Before he could recover, she was on him, flipping him to the ground with a swift move that knocked the wind out of him.

Bakugou landed on his back with a grunt, staring up at Y/N as she stood over him, her breathing steady. He scowled, anger flaring in his eyes, but beneath the surface, there was something else—something he wasn’t willing to admit, not even to himself.

She had beaten him, fair and square, and for a split second, he couldn’t help but think that the way she looked, standing victorious above him, was incredibly hot.

“You done yet?” Y/N asked, her voice laced with amusement.

Bakugou clenched his jaw, trying to ignore the strange flutter in his chest. “Not by a long shot.”

“Good,” she said, offering him a hand to help him up. “Because neither am I.”

The 1-A common room was buzzing with chatter as the class gathered for a rare evening of relaxation. Snacks were spread out on the coffee table, and everyone was lounging around, enjoying the break from their usual hectic schedules.

Y/N sat comfortably on the couch, leaning back with a content smile as she watched her classmates banter. Bakugou was sitting on the armrest beside her, arms crossed and a familiar scowl on his face.

“So, Y/N,” Kirishima began, leaning forward with a grin. “How do you deal with Bakugou so well? You’re the only one who doesn’t end up as an explosion target.”

The room erupted in laughter, and Bakugou shot Kirishima a glare. “I’m right here, you know.”

“Exactly,” Kaminari chimed in, smirking. “You guys bicker like an old married couple, and she’s always got you under control. How do you do it, Y/N?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her smile widening. “It’s simple, really. I just don’t let him get away with his usual crap. Someone’s gotta keep him in check.”

Bakugou huffed, looking down at her. “Like you could keep me in check, dumbass.”

“Oh, please,” Y/N shot back, rolling her eyes. “You’re all bark and no bite, Bakugou. I just don’t take you seriously when you throw one of your tantrums.”

“Tantrums?!” Bakugou growled, leaning closer, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t throw tantrums, you annoying little—”

“See what I mean?” Y/N interrupted, unbothered. “He’s like an overgrown toddler.”

The class erupted into laughter again, and Bakugou’s scowl deepened. “I swear, you’re the most infuriating person I’ve ever met.”

“And yet,” Y/N said, smirking as she looked up at him, “you’re always hanging around me. Makes me wonder if you secretly like having someone who can actually put up with you.”

Bakugou opened his mouth to retort, but the words caught in his throat. He clenched his jaw, turning his head away with a low grumble. “Tch, whatever.”

The class exchanged knowing looks, nudging each other as they watched the two continue their playful bickering.

“Well,” Mina said with a grin, “you two sure know how to keep things interesting. It’s almost like watching a rom-com.”

“Yeah,” Sero added with a chuckle, “except with more explosions and insults.”

Y/N just shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips as she glanced at Bakugou, who was still grumbling under his breath. “I guess it’s just our dynamic. Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

#bnha x reader #bnha #bnha fluff #mha #bakugou fluff #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou headcanons

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archiveikemen · 7 months ago

Text

William Rex 2nd Birthday Campaign: Story (2024)

Chapters 1 - 3

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection. I do not own any of the original content. Please support CYBIRD by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

Warnings and FAQ

!! Contains spoilers from William's main story !!

1st Birthday Campaign Story

—

I occasionally find myself reminiscing about the very first time I touched the pair of hands that took lives and gave freedom to others at the same time.

I have no regrets about surrendering everything in my life to those hands.

That’s why, today too, I’m by your side and singing my songs of love for you to my heart's content.

…

On my beloved’s birthday, I went to see my lover earlier than anyone else.

Kate: Happy birthday, Will!

William: Thank you, Kate. Looks like my little robin woke up earlier than usual today.

Kate: I did that to be the first to wish you a happy birthday.

William: Ahh, so that’s why this morning feels more wonderful.

William: What’s that tea trolley with the delicious looking black tea and sandwiches?

Kate: It’s your special birthday breakfast. I borrowed the kitchen this morning to prepare it.

Kate: Ah, but that's not all. I have more surprises prepared for you today—

William: … Fufu.

Kate: Will?

William: Nothing. I shall not doubt your confidence.

My cheeks turned red, it made me both happy and embarrassed to hear his jolly laughter.

Kate: Today’s your special day, and it has to be memorable for you.

Kate: I’m sorry for being so greedy.

William: You know that your greediness is what I love most about you, villainous woman.

Will smiled and gently pulled me closer by the waist.

William: Come, Kate. I shall enjoy the best breakfast with my adorable lover.

After finishing the dessert strawberries,

William: So, what does my greedy little robin want to do today?

Kate: What do you say about going to a photography studio to have your photograph taken?

William: A photograph… I’ve never thought of that.

Kate: I want to immortalise you, the embodiment of evil, as the fairytale keeper.

Kate: Words are wonderful indeed, but I feel that photographs are meaningful as well.

May my records of the self-righteous King’s sins be passed down from generation to generation, like a spoonful of poison warning against committing evil deeds.

“Look, the self-righteous King will come if you commit evil deeds. Therefore, you must never be evil”.

Because a fairytale can only end when evil has received judgement.

Kate: … You don’t want to?

William: I’d love to, this is a wonderful present you thought of. Thank you, Kate.

Kate: I’m relieved to hear that. Knowing you, there must already be one or two photos of you taken without your consent,

Kate: Besides, Her Majesty is quite a big fan of taking photos… right?

William: Yes, there's even a saying that “she is the pride of England’s photography”.

William: However, excluding a few candid shots Victor took, there has never been a proper photograph of me.

Kate: Why is that so?

William: Her Majesty never allows herself to be photographed. It’s unfair that I’m the only one being photographed, right?

William: Even though she has a role to play in this evil too, I’m the only one being known as the villain.

William’s exaggerated shrug brought a smile to my face without me realising it.

William: My “very first” photograph. I love this present from you.

(Will’s first… hehe)

Kate: Then let’s hurry to the photography studio. I have the carriage ready— ah.

When I was about to stand up and head out, Will pulled me back and I fell into his chest.

William: Before that, I want a birthday kiss.

Kate: … But we’ll be late for the photoshoot.

(I want a kiss too.)

(But I know that if we kiss, we won't be able to stop.)

William: You’re being a naughty girl, saying things that go against what your heart desires and making me out to be the bad guy.

William: Kate, “what do you want”...?

He easily exposed my innermost desires, unravelling my heart like loosening a knot.

There was no point trying to hide anything from Will.

Kate: Will, I want a kiss.

William: Shall we do that until we get tired of it, Kate?

…

We would never get tired of kissing, so we reluctantly parted our lips and made our way to the studio just in time.

Studio Owner: I’ve been awaiting your arrival!

Studio Owner: We have lovely weather today, so we can have a photoshoot both indoors and outdoors.

Studio Owner: Where would you like to have your photos taken?

Kate: … Will would look amazing outdoors. Ah, but he looks good indoors too.

Studio Owner: Ahaha, let’s do both then. This way, please.

Kate: Oh, thank you…

William: You’re so lovely when you’re being loyal to your desires. Well then, I shall live up to your expectations.

The photoshoot began a few minutes later, and it didn't take me long to realise what Will meant by those words.

(W-William… he looks PERFECT!)

With every pose Will struck, I could only sigh in awe.

William: How do I look, Kate?

Kate: … Perfect. Ah, please show us a wink.

William: Ahahaha! I’m glad you're enjoying this.

— At that moment, the doorbell at the entrance of the studio rang.

An elderly couple walked in.

Elderly Woman: My, are we a little too early?

William: We were just about to take a break. Would you like to proceed with your photoshoot?

…

Studio Owner: Let’s start the photoshoot! Alright, here we go.

We decided to watch the elderly couple during their photoshoot.

Under the clear blue sky, their smiles and the present moment were captured with every click of the camera shutters.

(They lived a long life together snuggled up like this… how beautiful.)

Watching them hold hands, their hands wrinkled from old age, my chest felt tight.

“Destruction” awaited Will and I with open arms at the end of our love story.

There was no knowing for certain that our destruction wouldn't come tomorrow.

There might never come a day when we could lean on each other lovingly like that elderly couple.

(Even so, I have no regrets. I will continue to live freely by Will’s side until the final moment of my life.)

(It's my freedom and my heart’s desire to love him until the end.)

The heart that Will set free continues beating to this day.

William: ...

William: I have a favour to ask of you, Kate.

Kate: What is it? It’s your birthday, so I’ll do anything you want.

William: Sounds promising. Well then, will you take a photo together with me?

Kate: Together?

William: Yes. You’re allowed to refuse if you don't want to be remembered as the self-righteous King’s lover.

Kate: Let’s take a photo together!

Kate: … Actually… I’ve been wanting to take a photo with you…

William: Ahahaha! I had a feeling you did.

William: If that's the case, let us flaunt our evil to the fullest.

— I wonder what the people looking at our photographs in the future will think of us?

Will they think of me as a foolish woman who was spell-bound by the sinful self-righteous king, leading to my own destruction?

(I don't care what they’ll say about me.)

(Because my heart is free and happy.)

…

Upon returning to the castle after the photoshoot, I guided Will to the dining room.

All the members of Crown were present to celebrate his birthday as planned.

We had cake decorated with strawberries, enjoyed a delicious feast, and drank wine until late into the night—

…

Kate: Mm… nn…

I was roused from my sleep by the gentle sunlight hitting my eyelids, my body wrapped in the sheets and the heat from last night still lingering.

(Ah, Will and I got intimate last night, and we fell asleep right after—)

(Is Will still asleep?)

I slowly lifted my head from Will’s chest that smelled like roses and caught his eyes, the colour of blood gazing at me.

His eyes seemed to hide a gentle rainfall.

Kate: … Will?

William: … Kate.

William: How many more of such special moments will we have?

His tone sounded more serious than usual, I gazed at Will while being held close to his chest and listening carefully to his every word.

William: I don't mean that I’ll let you die easily, but…

William: We’ll never know for sure whether fate will take you away tomorrow.

Kate: Yeah…

William: However, that won't make me regret or give up on loving you…

William: No, instead, that’s why I—

Kate: Will, mm…

William pressed his lips to mine.

The kiss felt more passionate than usual, and I found myself reflexively clinging to his shirt—

Our lips finally parted and he whispered in between ragged breaths.

William: I will risk everything I have to love you.

William: I will listen to and cherish the voices from your heart, and sing the melody of the finest love song.

At that very moment, Will and I shared the same emotion in our hearts.

We didn't know what would happen tomorrow, making that moment all the more precious.

I felt alive.

Kate: Sometimes… I wonder…

Kate: What kind of facial expression will I be wearing when my ultimate destruction comes?

Kate: I think… I’ll surely be smiling happily.

William: … And when I’m holding your happily smiling dead body in my arms, your poison will spread and stop my breathing too.

Kate: … At that point of time, shall we go to sleep together at the finishing line?

William: … Yeah, sounds good to me.

William: But let's put that plan on hold for a bit.

William: For now, may I kiss those beautifully wicked lips of yours that can charm even the most sinful of men?

Kate: Yes… kiss me, Will.

Kate: Mm… nn…

William: Kate…

The desire in his gaze, the smell of roses in the air, the feeling of his hot fingertips on my skin.

Everything Will gave me fueled my desires and made me breathe.

(I was as good as dead before I met Will.)

I spent my life suppressing and killing my heart, ignoring my inner voice.

I felt lost, not knowing what I wanted.

Loving Will might’ve made me born again.

Kate: Will, Will…

William: … Hm?

Kate: If I keep being loved like this… I might never bear to leave you.

William: Want to hear something that’ll benefit you?

Kate: …? What is it? Please tell me.

William: I requested a day off on the day after my birthday.

William: Because I wasn't confident that I’d be able to let you leave this bed.

Kate: E-Eh…?

I was surprised for a brief moment before I burst out laughing.

Kate: … Fufu, ahaha!

Kate: I didn't expect you to surprise me again this year!

William: It’s not as if you don't know that I’m very loyal to my desires?

Kate: Yes, of course I know that.

William: So, Kate. Shall we make love in bed again, or—

Kate: I want it all. Give me a taste of everything.

William: Alright. … I was just thinking the same thing.

William: We’ll make love so hard, you’ll have scratches on your back.

Kate: Ah.

Will laughed as I looked in surprise at the scratches I left on his back last night.

…

A few days after Will’s birthday.

I went to the photo studio to collect the photos we took on his birthday—

Studio Owner: Huh? Didn't you just come to pick up your photos earlier on?

Kate: Eh? Was Will here?

Studio Owner: Yes. Fufu, the two of you sure think alike. The photos turned out wonderful too.

(I missed him. … This is embarrassing.)

(But it makes me wonder if Will was looking forward to seeing the photos. I’m happy if that's true.)

Kate: Thank you for taking such wonderful photos of us.

Studio Owner: …

Studio Owner: When he came to collect the photos, I told him “you look happy”.

Kate: Eh?

Studio Owner: But—

– Flashback Start -

William: Happy, huh. That’s strange, because people can never know what’s in another person’s heart.

William: Even though someone appears to be happy, they may be burdened by the feelings of loneliness, conflict…

William: Take these photographs for example. When the future generations look at them, it’s up to them how they want to feel.

William: But that's alright.

William: … Only the people in the photographs know the truth.

– Flashback End –

Studio Owner: That was why I couldn't help but ask him a question.

Studio Owner: “Is your heart happy?”

Kate: What did Will… what did he say?

Studio Owner: “It is, as long as I’m living with her”.

Kate: … I-Is that so?

(I… I see.)

Unexpectedly learning of Will’s genuine feelings made me so, so incredibly happy, I nearly cried.

At that very moment, I felt truly happy.

#ikemen villains #ikemen series #cybird ikemen #otome #cybird otome #ikevil birthday #william rex #ikevil william #aikm translation

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leennaan · 8 months ago

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Alessia Russo// Take on the world pt.3

It’s the third and final part of this story. I hope you enjoyed it☺️ as always happy about feedback.

Special thanks to @babsisbakery who helped me with some ideas 😁

The song mentioned in this little series is “Take on the world” by You me at six. If you don’t know it go check it out😊

Warnings: Big time jump, Flashbacks, mentions of eating disorder. If this triggers you in any way please do not read, your health is more important than this story.

January 2024

Playing with the Ring on your finger you were nervously standing outside of a meeting room in London Colony. You still couldn’t believe that you were actually here. Standing in the Arsenal training gear, waiting that you were allowed to go into the room where all your new teammates were sitting.

It was the first team bonding night with all the new signings you included. Only difference being that no one besides Kim, Leah and Lotte knew that you had signed. Besides the fact that it was a last minute signing you also wanted to surprise Lessi. You still couldn’t believe that you had actually made it this long. Your relationship was stronger than ever eventho still no one besides your old College-Teammates, family and best friends knew of your relationship let alone about your engagement last summer.

After being knocked out of the tournament in the round of sixteen you where incredible frustrated and blamed yourself endlessly, being one of the penalty takers who missed there shot resulting in Sweden advancing to the quarterfinal. But you decided to be there for Alessia whose journey with her national team wasn’t even close to over. You supported her from the stands until the final step. Reaching the Final wa a dream come true for your girlfriend that sadly ended in tears. Under the cover of being close friends to both Alessia and Lotte you were allowed on to the pitch where your Girlfriend collapsed into your arms. “I am so endlessly proud of you, Baby.” You had whispered into her heat holding her close. “It hurts so bad. I should have done more. I am the striker I should score the goals.” “I know it hurts right now and that you want nothing more than blame yourself but I can tell you tomorrow you are going to be so proud of what you achieved. You did something special.”

Over the curse of the night the mood changed in all the England players like you predicted. After the party and the rush back to England where Alessia had to train with her new team for the Champions League qualifications you decided that you both needed a rest. So after the Qualifiers that siding went like plan for Arsenal, you went on holiday together. Italy to be precise. Alessia showed you all her favorite spots and took you to dinner in the best Italian restaurants you ever visited. After one late night date you both strolled down an empty beach until you reached a little area where candles were set up. With a questioning glance you turned around only to find Alessia kneeling before you. Gasping you looked at her tears already streaming down your face. “You know I promised you that one day I would go down on one knee. We went through so much together. And I know with the long distance it’s not always easy but you are the most beautiful, special and loving person that I know. I can’t imagine life without you and I don’t think I would even be standing here right know without you. You are my missing part, my best friend, my love. Like we always said. Together we take one the world. Would you take on the next big adventure with me and do me the honor of becoming my wife?” While Alessia spoke a few tears also escaped her eyes and you could clearly see all the love you felt for her reflected in her eyes.

“Yes. A thousand times yes. I love you so much.”

You were pulled from your thoughts when the door opened and Lotte stepped out of the room and in front of you. While pulling you into a hug the brunet expressed her excitement. “I still can’t believe you are actually here. Alessia is going to be so happy and excited once she realizes.”

Your transfer happened really quickly with Arsenal already being interested in you last summer but with your contract still up with FC Courage and your belief in winning the NWSL with your team which you to the surprise of a lot of people did, you and your old club declined. It was a really hard decision because you knew that Alessia was signing with the London Club and after now almost four years of long distance you were tired of it. And when the end of the winter transfers window neared and no WSL Club showed interest in you, you started to regret your earlier decision. Just before you put pen to paper at Gotham once more Arsenal resurfaced. With that the decision was made and here you were.

“UNC Girls back together right?!” You laughed. With Emily also signing there were now four former UNC Players at the Club.

You noticed Lotte spotting your guitar that was still in its bag. “What’s your initiation song going to be?” She asked.

“Not telling you. It’s another surprise for Less.”

“You two are still disgustingly cute you now that? I thought after four years it would subdue but I guess not.” Lotte laughed. “Come one I think it’s time. Everyone else has already done their initiation. I’ll go in first and give Leah the signal. You just come in behind me. There is another sliding door that’s not completely closed you can see into the room, but Less won’t see you.”

You nodded and followed Lotte to the sliding door. You could see the girls sitting on different round tables chatting and snacking on sweets.

When you saw the blonde locks of your girlfriend you couldn’t help the smile. It was still so good to see her eating carefree.

The first few months after Alessia went back to England worked surprisingly good. You once again called at least once a day. Talking and just being together. But soon you noticed that something changed in Alessia. Her eyes lacked that twinkle and her smile didn’t feel real. You noticed her loosing weight and skipping meals. Where you once had cooked meals together she would say that she had already eaten. When she completely ruptured her hamstring only month after coming to Man U it all got ten times worse.

Her hair got dull, you could start to see her cheekbones and collarbones.

You tried to talk to her but with no result. She always told you that everything was fine and that she was feeling great besides her hamstring Ofcourse. So you decided to take matters into your own hands. Talking to your teachers and Coaching stuff you were allowed to leave for winter break a week earlier and booked a ticket to Manchester. You asked Lotte for Ella’s number who helped you surprise your girlfriend.

And it was the best decision you could have made. Alessia was so happy to see you and within two days she broke down in your arms.

“I think I need help.” She had sobbed. “I… I am so scared to eat. At first I just counted my calories but I know what I do is not healthy anymore. I thought I looked better but then my hamstring happend. I know my body isn’t strong enough but I don’t want to gain weight.” You had tried to console her the whole night. You told her that she looked beautiful, that you loved her and that she wasn’t alone.

The next daythe two of you talked to her team psychologist. You were there for her the whole time. And slowly over the next two weeks you watched her smile return. She started to cook for the two of you. Healthy foods without measuring the calories. Sometimes it was harder for her sometimes it was easier.

Sadly you had to go back to the US shortly after New Year but you still cooked together over FaceTime and eating together afterwards. Sometime Alessia would fall back to old habits and trying to skip a meal but you were always there to help her through it.

“Guys! I need your attention once more. I know you all thought that Emily and Sarah were the only signings but we’ve got one more surprise. She plays for the US national team. Has just won the NWSL with courage and is another addition to our UNC Squad.” While Leah introduced you, your eyes were solely on Alessia. You could see how she slowly figured it out and when it finally dropped she gasped. Hand flying to her mouth and tears starting to appear in her eyes.

“Y/n it’s your stage.” Leah waved you in. It was planned that you would right away start to play your song.

You came in playing the accords on your guitar. As it was an original that only Alessia knew a few pieces of there was no back up music playing.

“Hey guys. This song is an original piece that is really special to me. I wrote it about my relationship to a very special person. I hope you like it.”

Alessia was already in tears. Lotte had sat herself next to her pulling her into her arms. Emily as well was sitting next to your girl. She grinned at you. Smiling you started to sing.

“Just say the word

We'll take on the world

Just say you're hurt

We'll face the worst, oh

I can see, see the pain in your eyes

Oh, believe, believe me, and I have tried

No, I won't, I won't pretend to know what you've been through

You should know, I wish it was me, not you”

You would never forget the pain in Alessias eyes when she told you about her grandfather. How you had wished to be the one in pain. You never had lost someone so close to you before but you desperately wished you could take the pain from Alessia.

“And just say the word

We'll take on the world

And just say you're hurt

We'll face the worst

Nobody knows you the way that I know you

Look in my eyes, I will never desert you

And just say the word

We'll take on the world”

From the beginning of your relationship the both of you sticked together. No matter how hard the way was. You trusted each other. Now for years later you only needed to look at her to see what she needed. Yes you both knew each other better than anyone.

“And it's the fight

The fight of our lives

You and I, we were made to thrive

Oh, yeah

And I am your future

And I am your past

Never forget, we were built to last

Step out of the shadows and into my life

Silence the voices that haunt you inside”

Long distance was hard. But you always made time for each other. Both leaving everything behind to sea the other in person if needed. Never once thinking that you weren’t meant to be.

And just say the word

We'll take on the world

And just say you're hurt

We'll face the worst

Nobody knows you the way that I know you

Look in my eyes, I will never desert you

And just say the word

We'll take on the world

Oh, oh, oh, oh

And nobody knows you

The way that I know you

And nobody knows you

The way that I know you

“We'll fight, we'll crawl, into the night

I won't let go, with you by my side

The calm, the storm, we'll face it all”

Of course there were fights but never for long. You promised each other to never go to bed angry. You were just better together.

And just say the word

We'll take on the world

And nobody knows you

The way that I know you

Look in my eyes, I will never desert you

And just say the word (just say the, just say the word)

We'll take on the world

Take on the world”

Slowly you let the sound die out. Alessia had stood up once you were finished and you put down your guitar. Opening your arms she run to you. Catching her in your arms. “Is this for real?” She whispered in your ear. “Yes Baby. I signed my contract last week.” She laughed and pulled you even closer. “Can I kiss you? I don’t care if anyone knows. We are finally together and I want everybody to know who my beautiful fiancée is.” Instead of answering you, she kissed you, hard.

Wolf whistling sounded around you but the both of you didn’t care. “How I missed this, how I missed you.” The blonde whispered before pulling away from you but still touching you.

“Care to explain Russo?” Asked McCabe and your girlfriend laughed. You already knew a lot about your new teammates due to Alessia and also Lotte, so you weren’t surprised by the women’s comment.

“So guys this is Y/n she played together with Lotte, Em and myself at UNC. And she is my fiancée, we have been together for four years now.”

A lot of questions came your way but you didn’t care not a bit. You were just happy to finally be with your girl.

Y/n Y/l/n and Alessia posted to their instagram

Four years with you! From College to The Arsenal. “Together we take on the world.” From strangers to friends to lovers to fiancés. “You are my future. You are my past.” Love you endlessly ❤️

#woso #woso imagine #alessia russo #alessia russo x y/n #alessia russo imagine #alessia russo x reader #arsenal women fc #unc reader #arsenal women #lotte wubben moy #emily fox #Leah Williamson #woso x reader

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