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holy-puckslibrary · 1 year ago

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━ 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐞.

main masterlist

pairing(s) — JAMIE DRYSDALE x reader (est. relationship) wc — 1.5k synopsis — jamie can’t keep his hands to himself, and neither can his girlfriend. (prompted on this ask)

note — title’s from summertime by bon jovi + yes, this is a re-upload from the main blog (@holy-pucks) since nothing of mine posted there shows up in the tags. if you’ve already liked or shared that post, i would really appreciate you doing the same with this new one :) thx a million in advance! xx

specific content warnings listed below the cut.

cw — alcohol consumption/tipsy!reader x tipsy!jamie, accidental exhibitionism (jamie getting handsy at a bonfire bc he just can't resist lol), suggestive lang + innuendo, + general fluffy filth but nothing super explicit really, pretty tame for me tbh

jamie drysdale has never been so pleased to have lost a fight in his entire life.

he didn't think it'd get cold enough to warrant lugging around an extra blanket (meaning him, not you—he's a gentleman). you thought otherwise, and pestered him until there was one neatly folded in the backseat.

objectively speaking, jamie was right; it wasn't even chilly. he was actually a little warm, if he was being honest, but that had a lot more to do with his wandering, beer-soaked mind than the weather or a superfluous layer.

—and he had a tent in his pants to prove it.

it's his own fault. he pulled you into his lap when there were more than enough lawn chairs scattered around the blazing fire, knowing full-well you fidget when you're tipsy. jamie knows you can't sit still to save your life, yet he sat you across his thighs anyway. and now he—and his raging hard-on—are paying the price.

he isn't embarrassed he's turned on, that's not the problem. that's never the problem. you've been dating for years, and anyone who's shocked by the effect you have on him has bigger problems than jamie's attraction to his own girlfriend.

it's the fact that he's about ten seconds away from pulling your suit to the side and rutting into you in the middle of a public beach with his friends not even a foot away.

someone across the half-moon crowd says something that makes you laugh—makes you wiggle. jamie's hands tighten on your hips to keep you still, but, by this point in the night, his body is too lax to be of much help. if anything, the impassioned touch eggs you on, and it isn't long before his hips are moving to match your mostly-involuntary movements.

jamie hisses through gritted teeth, jaw clenched so tight it aches. "baby, quit it—please."

fluttering half-lidded eyes meet his, clock his internal struggle, and immediately twinkle with mischief. under the guise of shifting your attention, you rub the outside of your thigh against the bulge threatening to tear his trunks.

"quit what?" you ask with a demure smile, your hands looping themselves around his neck. warm fingertips play with the feathered locks tickling his sunburnt neck, making him shiver.

"you know what," he glares. "i don't know when we'll get back home, and you're driving me insane."

"touch me here."

blinking in disbelief, he balks. "w-what?"

"touch. me. here."

each word is punctuated with a chaste peck to his ever-reddening cheek. the succinct affection bounces you in his lap, and jamie can't help but slide his hands further beneath the sandy blanket. at first, to halt the infuriating friction but, like usual, once his hands wander he just can't stop. consequences—and shyness—be damned.

"s'not a good idea." jamie nips your jaw, dotting a line of warm kisses along your neck, stopping once his nose brushes your ear. "my baby's loud as shit, and i'd rather not have an audience."

you swat his chest in offense, but giggle nonetheless. "am not!"

"are too." he smiles up at you.

"i can be quiet," you huff, determination furrowing your brow.

jamie reaches up to smooth the crease with his thumb. you catch his arm and press a sweet peck to the inside of his wrist. he shudders.

you hum into his skin, "i think you're projecting."

"that right?" your boyfriend feigns ignorance, amused.

"let me prove it," you whisper before leaning in to kiss the tip of his nose. with your forehead flush to his, you try again. "please, jamie. i can't wait anymore—and i certainly can't wait until t strikes out with whoever he's obsessed with this week."

jamie snorts.

you make a solid point; it could be another ten minutes or upwards of two hours. his guess was as good as any—trevor himself included. jamie's really starting to hate that him finally fucking his own girlfriend hinges on his best friend's ability—or inability—to seal the deal.

"you make even a peep, and i stop. got it?"

what's the worst that could happen if he indulges you a bit? no one's even paying attention to either of you, anyway.

you nod, bottom lip pinched between your teeth. jamie tugs it free, fingertip dancing over the fresh indentations. your tongue slips out to tease his sun-soaked skin, and it isn't long before the digit is flush to your hot tongue.

jamie's eyes are almost black with lust as they watch your lips welcome and release his finger over and over again. your eyelids fall as he slips into a trance, mesmerized by your mouth.

"words, baby. gimme words," he prods, the words barely audible.

you surrender his hand with a faint pop, blinking down at him like you're already teetering on the precipice. "no sounds or you stop—i got it," you parrot. "now are you going to touch me?"

"needy, needy, baby," jamie teases after stealing a kiss. "i've spoiled you rotten, haven't i? can't even go a couple hours without begging me to touch you... s'alright, i can barely keep my hands of you. 'specially when i've got you sittin' all pretty in my lap like this."

"—jamie, please, just... just touch me already—need t'feel you."

chuckling to himself, jamie mercifully pushes the sodden material out of the way. he nearly moans at what he finds.

how much of it is from the evening dip you took with a couple of the other girlfriends, it's hard to tell, but he'd put good money on it being little to none. no, the damp patch growing in his lap is all you. sweet and warm, and perfectly you.

you gasp when he collects some of the escaped arousal with a few of his fingers. jamie raises a brow in your direction and you cover your mouth apologetically. he bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. you're trying so hard to keep quiet, it's adorable.

"—haven't even done anything and you're already breaking your promise," he chides. "how am i supposed to give you what you want when you're already misbehaving?"

"the other one," you breathe. confused, jamie hesitates. "give me your other hand."

you fish his free hand out from between your bodies and bring it up to your mouth. his eyes bulge out of their sockets once your intentions become obvious; you mean to silence yourself by sucking on his middle and marriage as he fucks you with the other hand. your back is mostly to the group, but he's still paranoid as all hell.

yet, jamie can't bring himself to deny you—or himself.

"you're gonna be the death of me," he groans as your head dips.

too turned on to care, jamie relents and slips a gentle finger into you. your eyes pinch shut, teeth catching on his other hand, but no sound leaves you. as a reward for your good behavior, he sinks in even further, until he's knuckle-deep at both ends.

his movements are much slower than normal, but, somehow, it doesn't matter. jamie's thumb seeks out your clit, sensitive and swollen despite its neglect, and he traces lazy circles between deep, measured thrusts. all the while, he mouths at your neck with little concern for what evidence he might leave behind. jamie's sole focus is making you feel as good as he does right now with his half-naked, hot-as-hell girlfriend writhing in his lap, her pretty pussy clenching around his lucky fingers.

"—j-jamie," you warble around his drenched hand, hips bucking into the other with what little leverage you have positioned like this. "—close, s'close."

oh, he knows. he can tell. jamie knows your body better than you do; he's a diligent student.

"are you, baby?" jamie can't resist a bit of taunting. you're too far gone to push back. "poor thing, what do you need from me? tell me what you need to get there."

you're slow to answer, overwhelmed by the sensations attacking your mind from all angles. somewhere along the line, a second finger was added... and then a third. the burning stretch aches so good your vision blurs.

jamie, jamie, jamie—the beginning, middle, and end of your thoughts—jamie, through and though. he's everywhere, but it's still not enough.

"my n-neck," you eventually gasp. "please—kiss my neck again."

your boyfriend is more than happy to oblige. lips latched to the tender spot just below your ear, jamie lets his hand take control of the pace; he's no longer content to drag this out. it's been a long day, and all he wants is to watch his pretty girlfriend fall to pieces in his lap.

your peak is ushered in by a series of pitiful little whines and whimpers, mostly muffled by his spit-stained hand, but jamie doesn't have the heart—or the sanity—to chastise you for it. if he had it his way, his mind would play those beautiful, broken sounds on a loop.

but the reverie is too good to last. it always is.

"get a room, you two!"

a chorus of laughter and vulgar remarks succeed trevor's call-out. and, hot under the collar, jamie's cheeks burn pink as he buries his face in the safety of your neck.

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lovelyhan · 2 years ago

Note

enemies to lovers prompt #10 "I'm not driving home with you..." with mingyu, thx <3

— vices & virtues ⟢

being from one of the most opulent families in the city, you're used to getting everything you want. but when you realize that your hot bodyguard is strictly off-limits, you treat him like anything else you can't have: with unbridled hostility.

★ FEATURING; bodyguard!mingyu x reader

★ WORD COUNT; 5.4k words

★ TAGS; enemies to lovers, unresolved sexual tension, smut

★ WARNINGS; alcohol consumption, cigarettes, implied/referenced drug use, self-destructive behavior in general, (probably inaccurate) discussions about drug poisoning, graphic sexual content (MINORS DNI)

★ NOTES; when i tell you i speedwrote this just in time for mingyu day,,, eugh i love you so much gyugyu and thank you to the anon who sent this in a while back!! this prompt was so tasty to work with!

★ SMUT TAGS; unprotected sex, couch sex, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, dacryphilia, size kink, mating press, overstimulation, creampie

★ SVT TAGLIST; @wonderfulshinee - @misssugarlips - @yourfavoritefreakyhan - @jeanjacketjesus - @just-here-to-read-01 - @hanihans - @venusrae - @taestrwbrry - @minnie-mouser22 - @dreamhannies - @thvhannie - @kkooongie - @gae-uls - @lenireads - @gaebestie - @ryusha-rose - @enhacolor - @ilyvern - @woo8hao - @spk93 - @tommolex - @stariightjoyy - @asjkdk - @horny4hoshi

★ MINGYU TAGLIST; @ @renjunphile - @acgyu - @potatofrieswithketchup - @pluviophile-xxx - @pretty-trustme - @zeenanigans - @noveniadelia

When the tiniest sliver of consciousness slips into your inebriated brain, you feel the cold tile of the bathroom floor being pried off your face. Well, more like you're being gently lifted off it, and into the arms of someone warm.

You nearly lean into their embrace until you catch a whiff of that familiar, musky cologne with hint of something like pine. It takes you some effort to keep yourself from bolting out of his grasp and retching your guts out in the toilet again.

You deign to squint your eyes despite the harsh fluorescent light razing your vision. Looking down on you is none other than Kim Mingyu, gaze as indifferent as ever. Unfortunately, you're too drunk or high to figure out how he even found you here, but you know there's no weaseling your way out when your father's little lapdog has tracked you down.

"What're you doing here?" you still ask even if you knew the answer.

It's my job to take care of you.

"It's my job to take care of you," he says the words in the same way you imagined him to—apathetic. Indecipherable.

"Fuck you. I don't need you to take care of me," you scoff. "My friends'll drop me off at my apartment like they always do."

Mingyu rolls his eyes. "You mean the same friends who called me because they're tired of having to clean up after your shit? I don't want to be here either, princess, but I'm actually getting paid to keep you in line, if you hadn't known that yet."

There's something so unfairly attractive in the snark in his tone, and you fucking hate him for it. Mostly, you hate yourself for even thinking that anything about Mingyu is remotely alluring.

In the end, you just tell yourself that you're an objective person. You have eyes, and it won't cost anything to admit that Mingyu is conventionally attractive. Even if you did hate his guts.

Not that he'll ever hear you admit that aloud, though.

You're vaguely aware of how the hem of your too-short dress rides up your thighs as Mingyu rises back to his full height—having no problems carrying you out of the bathroom bridal-style.

Under normal circumstances, you would've struggled. Proved that you could very much handle yourself despite being obviously hammered. But your head is spinning, and your limbs feel like they'll disintegrate any second.

Eyes closed, you press your face into the fine fabric of Mingyu's suit—breathing in the same scent that repulsed you not five minutes earlier in an attempt at anchoring your consciousness.

As Mingyu maneuvers you out of the bathroom, the loud bass blaring from the speakers at the frat party you've decided to attend last minute rings in your eardrums. You don't have to see your surroundings to know you've got onlookers. Those unsubtle comments are clue enough to know you're being watched.

Who is that? Her boyfriend?

No, idiot, that's probably her bodyguard or some shit. Her family's loaded as fuck.

So lucky. If I had a bodyguard like that, I'd totally let him smash.

The real question is: would he let you smash?

Fuck you.

You want to flash them the most disgusted look you could muster. As if you'd stoop low enough to fuck Mingyu, of all people. Don't they know who you are? You could easily let any man or woman you wanted on their knees for you.

You were supposed to stick to your regular routine of getting railed into the next day after a few drinks and sticks, but you obviously got a little too excited about the new strains your friends snuck into the party. Now you're being princess carried by a man you absolutely despise, too shit-faced to even be remotely desired by anyone else at the moment.

Still, never in a million years would you consider having this guy as a bodyguard lucky.

You can tell you're outside when the music starts to fade in the distance and the cold starts to prickle your legs and arms. A somewhat coherent part of you recalls leaving your designer jacket in the coatrack of the frat house, and if you weren't so fucking shit-faced, you would've yelled at Mingyu to go back and get it.

But just before you can consider asking him somewhat nicely, you hear him unlock a car that definitely doesn't sound like yours—making your ears perk up, and your consciousness flood back in much faster.

"What are you—?"

You thrash in Mingyu's arms until he lets you down on the ground—throwing him a stone-cold glare right after. The fact that your pedicured feet are in direct contact with the asphalt makes your rage spike further. How dare this asshole leave your Valentinos behind? He might as well have just left you at the party altogether!

"I'm not driving home with you," you growl.

Mingyu's expression doesn't even budge. "You're not driving. I am."

"Don't try to be fucking smart with me. I'm high, not stupid."

Folding your arms across your chest, you try to pretend that you're not in the middle of the street, arguing with Mingyu as your blood pressure rises to unimaginable heights.

Unfortunately for you, this isn't the first time your friends have left you in the quote-unquote capable hands of your bodyguard. But every time he did, he would always drive whatever car you chose to bring for the occasion and drop you off at your place.

When he brings a car of his own, however...

"You're bringing me straight to the old man," you grumble. "You think he'll appreciate seeing his daughter all wasted at three in the morning? You think he'll be happy with you when he finds out you let me sneak out like this? Are you stupid or do you actually want to get fired?"

"And who told you I was going to bring you to him?" Mingyu shakes his head, letting out a long-winded sigh. "Like I said, I don't want to be here either. The last thing I need is even more overtime after your father sets you straight."

That makes you pause, eyes widening with a hint of mistrust. Mingyu listens to every word his employer says. He's the perfect little lapdog. So perfect that sneaking out for these nightly escapades of yours have grown increasingly difficult with how good he is at finding you and bringing you home.

So hearing him practically say that he won't tattle on you...

"How can I be sure you're not fucking with me? That if I fall asleep in the car, I won't wake up in the courtyard of the old man's stupid mansion?"

"Do I look like I have the energy to deal with both of you at the same time?" he replies sharply, opening the door to the passenger seat with a hint of finality in his actions. "Just get in the fucking car so we can all head to bed before sunrise."

The sound of the house party still in full swing echoes in your ears from the distance. Your skin tingles a little beneath the heat of Mingyu's mildly pissed off gaze, and you let out a shuddering breath to keep yourself from giving the feeling a name.

"Fine."

...

Good news: you made it safely back to your apartment without anyone alerting your father about your true whereabouts.

Bad news: Mingyu just won't fucking leave.

He insisted that you get yourself refreshed with a shower first before he talks to you in the living room. The same guy that right-out said that you should hop in the passenger seat of his car so you'd both be asleep before the sun rises. The clock is already pushing past four in the morning, and Mingyu still insists on lecturing you before he leaves?

You of all people know how obstinate he can be. He's even more stubborn than you are, if you're being completely honest. So even if it wounds your pride to play along with what he has planned, you head back to your living room right after slipping on your usual nightgown—flashing Mingyu a look to remind him you're not at all pleased with whatever bullshit he wants to talk about.

However, your irritation ebbs a little when you see a plate of your favorite cookies sitting on the coffee table, along with a glass of water and a sheet of Advil.

Your gaze drifts from the snacks to your bodyguard, who looks more dressed down than usual. His coat is folded neatly, hanging off one side of your couch, and the first three buttons of his dress shirt are undone.

You gulp, prying your eyes off the sliver of chest he's willingly exposed before seating a respectable distance away.

"What did you want to talk about?" You try to sound casual as you leaned forward, reaching for a cookie and the glass of water without as much initiating eye contact.

"You smoked a few joints at the party, didn't you?"

You take a bite, washing it down with your drink before replying with, "So what if I did? A little kush isn't going to kill anybody, Mingyu."

"We both know 'a little' doesn't exist in your vocabulary, princess," he points out, crossing his arms with an unimpressed look. "Anyway, I'm not your father, so I typically don't care about what drugs you're taste testing every night—"

"Are you implying that you suddenly care now?"

"With a new poisonous marijuana strain circulating in the underground market? Of course I do."

You do a double take on that, staring at him hard as you begrudgingly swallow your cookie, "What? Underground market? And what do you mean poisonous?"

Mingyu lets out another sigh when he leans forward to reach for the box of cigarettes and a lighter you left strewn across your coffee table. You're even more surprised to see him lighting himself a stick and taking a drag than you were when he prepared some snacks and water for you.

"Some Columbian drug cartels thought it would be funny to infiltrate surface-level drug transactions. Long story short, they invented some fucked up strain laced with belladonna and smuggled it into the market under the impression that it's a new sativa strain."

You absolutely have no idea how Mingyu even got ahold of this information, but realizing the implication of his words has your stomach sinking with dread. If what he's saying is true, it's no wonder you were out so fucking quick tonight.

"I'm not gonna die within twenty four hours, right?" you half-joke because, Jesus, you're adventurous with your drugs, but you wouldn't willingly take something that can actually kill you.

To your relief, Mingyu shakes his head. "I don't know the science behind it either, but I was told sativa tones down the poisonous effect of belladonna by a huge margin. The worst you'll experience is a fever and a nasty cough if you don't do anything about it."

"Gee, way to be reassuring."

Mingyu scoffs before taking another drag of his cigarette. Your gaze is riveted on the cut of his jaw as he inhales the smoke with eyes closed. It's only when he flicks the ashes in a small ashtray you left by the small table beside the couch that you realize he's pushed the sleeves of his dress shirt to his elbows—exposing a good deal of his toned arms.

You immediately take a huge gulp of water, not wanting such unsavory thoughts about an unsavory person to surface now, of all times.

You might be more refreshed after your shower, but if you're starting to ogle Kim Mingyu, the strange joints you've been hitting all night might've messed with your head more than you thought.

"That's why we're going to the doctor tomorrow—"

You scowl. "Like hell I'm going to pay Doctor Yoon a visit. That guy's the biggest tattletale in the world. He'll definitely tell the old man. Oh, and I actually have classes tomorrow if you're forgetting, Mingyu."

"You're pretending to attend those now that it's convenient for you?" He smirks as he breathes out another puff of smoke. "Nice try, princess. But don't worry your pretty little head about it. I'll take you to another doctor I know—someone who won't get us both in trouble by telling your father that you've been smoking bad weed."

"Again, way to be fucking reassuring."

The silence finally settles as you nibble contemplatively on the snacks he brought for you. You're can say for sure that you're most certainly sober now, so Mingyu's words have got you thinking.

But it's a little difficult to think about the state of your health when you've got a sort-of uninvited guest manspreading right next to you on the couch.

"Aren't you going to leave?" you ask. "Just text me what time we're going to visit that doctor friend of yours."

"How would you feel if you got told to scram while you're in the middle of a smoke?" Mingyu flashes you an annoyed look. "For the third time, I don't even want to be here, princess. At least let me have this as compensation for saving your sorry ass."

He's so fucking infuriating.

The rough undercurrent in his voice. The perpetual upward curve of his lips as if he always has the upper hand. His beefy arms. His built chest.

...Not to mention his unexpected thoughtfulness when he decided to stick around and inform you about what you might've gotten yourself into instead of leaving you to fend for yourself. He even brought out your favorite cookies for good measure.

You never really know what to do with Kim fucking Mingyu. He stirs up all sorts of confusing feelings inside your chest at any given time, and frankly, you've had enough of it.

You allow yourself to relish in the pride that swells in your chest when he nearly drops his half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray the moment you crawl on top of his lap.

Mingyu's mouth quivers with some sensible words his job description probably requires him to say, but you rob him of his ability to speak when you steal the cancer stick from his fingers. In one long breath, you smoke the cigarette down to the filter—killing it on your ashtray before leaning down to press your lips to his.

With how stunned he is, it doesn't take a lot of effort to pry Mingyu's mouth open, breathing the smoke into his mouth. Once you're satisfied, you pull away with a triumphant smirk.

"Now you're done," you say, making the motions to get off his lap. "I'm heading to bed. Don't wake me up before noon for that doctor's appointment or else I'm going to slash your ti—"

You don't even get to finish that sentence. Mingyu suddenly flips you over so that your back is pressed against the couch and he's lying on top of you—both knees planted on either side of your hips as he gazes at you with an ireful glare.

"W-What are you doing?" you whisper, but in spite of the protesting nature of your words, you can't help but feel a pang of white hot desire shoot straight through you when you feel just how big he is now that his body is pressed against yours.

"Teaching a bad girl a lesson," he whispers, grabbing your face roughly. "You can't just pull off shit like that and expect to walk away from it unscathed, princess."

Fuck. That nickname he always uses never fails to get on your nerves on any other day. But when he sounds like that and has you under him like this...

"What are you gonna do about it then?" you ask.

Mingyu chuckles darkly, as he squishes your face with his big, long fingers. You nearly shudder at the thought of what those digits could do to you if you just pushed the right buttons.

"You'll just have to fuck around and find out."

When the pressure of his strong grip leaves your cheeks, confusion paints your features. Mingyu's weight eases off your pliant body almost immediately as well, leaving you to scowl at him incredulously. He doesn't even look at you as he collects his coat from where it hangs off your couch.

But before he can even think about putting it back on, something not so different from a growl resonates deep in your chest as you sit back up—tugging on the collar of his shirt to smash your lips together.

Mingyu all but groans into the kiss, but you're not sure if you can even call it that. There's nothing but hunger fueling the both of you as your tongue slides alongside his, mapping out each other's mouths like your lives depended on it.

You vaguely hear his coat fall to the floor as Mingyu goes back to crowding you against the couch—one of his strong arms circling your waist as he grinds his hips against your middle. It's nearly embarrassing how willing you are to receive his advances.

You, the same person who told your bodyguard you refused to drive home with him, are now making out with said bodyguard at four in the morning.

But then again, who fucking cares?

"You have no idea," he whispers hoarsely against your lips and you let out a stifled moan when you feel the outline of his erection rut against your clothed pussy, "how much you drive me insane. You're such a fucking handful, you know that?"

"I'm glad to know I make your life miserable," you bite back despite the fact that, when Mingyu brings down the straps of your nightgown to expose your breasts to the cool air, you do nothing about it.

Mingyu lets out a harsh laugh. "You're probably into this, aren't you, princess? You like riling me up so much so that I'd snap and teach you a lesson?"

You want to tell him that he's being fucking full of himself if he thinks you've planned this that far back. But with how massive he feels through his trousers alone, you can't say that you don't want him inside you right this second.

It doesn't help that he's giving your chest a generous amount of attention—suckling at your nipples in a way that has you twitching beneath him with sensitivity.

"So what if I am?" you say, testing the limits of what he'll let you get away with. "You talk big about teaching me a lesson but you're being awfully careful with me. Aren't you going to shove your cock down my throat to get me to shut up?"

Mingyu chuckles with a quick shake of his head, like he isn't even taking your words seriously. You let out a sharp yelp when he bites down on one of your breasts—leaving a distinct imprint of his canines on your skin before staring into your eyes.

"I can choke you with my cock next time, princess. For now, I just want to make you come until you're crying for me."

Fuck.

Mingyu wastes no time. He immediately sinks to his knees on the floor, hauling your hips closer to the edge of the couch so that he can hook your thighs over his shoulders. When he realizes that you're not wearing any underwear underneath your flimsy satin nightgown, you swear the noise he makes is near animalistic.

"Don't get f-fucking cocky," you stammer, nerves alight everywhere his lips graze your inner thighs. "I don't usually wear underwear before going to sleep! This wasn't for you."

"It is now," Mingyu says before licking a long stripe from your leaking hole to your aching clit. He holds your thighs far apart as his lips latch onto that little bundle of nerves, alternating with delicious licks at your sensitive folds.

He practically smothers his face into your cunt as he continues his relentless assault on your clit. By the time Mingyu starts to tease his tongue along your entrance, your fingers have found their way into his unruly hair—moans falling from your lips with little concern about appearances.

Mingyu pulls away for a moment, and you nearly snap at him from that alone until he eases one of those thick fingers into your wet channel—dark eyes trained on you as he stretches you out with a hungry gaze.

You don't even feel any semblance of shame when you start to ride that single digit, wanting to feel him go deeper and spread you wider. Fortunately, your bodyguard is more attentive than you think, and it doesn't take long for him to ease another finger into your needy pussy, curling them just so once he's sure he's found that spot that'll render you an incoherent mess.

The sound he rips out of you is unholy and Mingyu growls again before his mouth finds its way back onto your cunt—getting lost in the taste of you on his tongue.

"Where's the fight you've been putting up against me all this time, princess?" he taunts just before those stupidly thick fingers graze that sensitive patch of flesh inside you again. "Are you that desperate? You've fucked yourself up so much tonight that you couldn't bring anyone back home. Your bodyguard's gonna have to do, huh?"

You know you should be affronted by how offensive his words are. Mingyu might be an expert at getting on your nerves, but with how good his fucking mouth feels as he laves at your cunt like a man starved, you can't even let yourself feel any modicum of annoyance.

"M-Mingyu," you gasp as he suckles on your clit again—steadily building your orgasm from the ground-up. "I'm gonna come, f-fuck!"

Three. Mingyu slides in three fingers at your admission, and you nearly cry with how wide he's stretching you out. This time, he switches from sucking at your clit to rapidly flicking his tongue against the sensitive pearl.

Your toes curl with oversensitivity, thighs nearly crushing his head as you frame the syllables of his name in another wanton moan. When Mingyu curls his fingers inside you one more time, the tension that's been building in your stomach snaps like a rubber band.

Once you teeter off the precarious edge of release, you feel a gush of slick surge out of your cunt and into his awaiting mouth. Mingyu laps it all up—his sinful tongue catching every drop of your tangy essence. If you didn't know better, you would think he's desperate for you as much as you are for him.

It takes a while for your mind to fully come back online after that first orgasm, chest heaving almost painfully with how Mingyu took your breath away with oral alone. When you finally have your wits about you, your bodyguard surges forward so that your faces are levelled, and you nearly groan when you see the way his mouth and chin glisten with your juices.

"So fucking delicious for me," he rasps. "Gonna let me have a taste of this pussy every time now, princess? Want my mouth on you before you sleep?

"Do whatever you want, Gyu," you mewl, tugging him closer as you position yourself horizontally on the couch. "N-Need you so bad."

He sighs, unbuttoning the rest of his dress shirt as he drinks in the sight of you all fucked out and compliant because of his mouth and fingers alone. Your lips are parted, eyes glistening with tears or desire—Mingyu can't say for sure just yet.

But if he can get you this wrecked from oral, he can't fucking wait to see what you'll look like after he gets you to cream on his cock.

His shirt falls to the floor and you can't contained the awed gasp that leaves you at the sight of him. He's built like a fucking sculpture—all lean muscle and hard toned abs. It would make sense for Mingyu to be this well-built, being your bodyguard and all, but the thought of having his body pressed against yours as he fucks you into the couch is sending your mind into overdrive.

"You're so adorable," he chuckles, but you know the words are anything but a compliment. "A moment ago you were challenging everything I said and did. Now you're suddenly an agreeable little thing. Are you that cock-hungry, princess? Want something to fill that pretty pussy?"

"Yes." You don't even hesitate. "Yes, yes, yes. Want your cock in me. Want you to fill me up, Gyu. Please..."

Fortunately for you, Mingyu isn't one to tease. The moment you've given him the green light to rearrange your insides, he steps out of his tight trousers and boxers at the same time, pumping his thick cock in one hand as he nudges your thighs apart once again.

You practically salivate at the thought that you're about to take all those delicious inches inside you. Mingyu doesn't miss the starry look on your face, but doesn't take the time to gloat about it. Instead, he leans all the way forward so that your thighs are squished against your chest—easing your legs across his shoulders in a position that's not so different from when he ate you out earlier.

"Gonna fuck the attitude out of you, princess," he promises before pressing a kiss on the corner of your mouth. "You ready for me?"

You nod a little too eagerly, forcing his face into the crook of your neck as you wrap your arms around his head. "Gyu, please..."

"Alright. Since you asked so nicely."

He doesn't even give any forewarning when he bottoms out inside you in one languid stroke. A choked up noise gets caught in your chest with how sudden he was, how full you feel in such a short amount of time, but Mingyu doesn't give you any time to think, or even to breathe.

Before you can even get a single word out, he's pulling his hips back—making you feel every inch of his thick cock before slamming his hips forward with a powerful thrust that drives you further into the sofa. You let out a long-winded moan, unable to do anything about it as he pounds into you with the vigor of someone who's been putting up with your shit for a better part of the year.

"Pussy's so fucking tight for me," he growls. "You're squeezing my cock so good, princess. Is this all I had to do so you'd stop driving me crazy? Eat you out a little and dick you down 'til you forget your name?"

You can't even process what he's saying right now—too lost in the sensation of his cockhead grazing your cervix with each forward stroke. He's reaching into you so deep that you might really just forget everything but the letters of Mingyu's name by the time he's done with you.

"M-Mingyu," you drawl dumbly as he peppers your neck with bites and bruises—unrelenting with his deep strokes as your cunt flutters around his length. "Fuck. L-Love your cock so much—oh!"

You let out a gasp that Mingyu quickly muffles with his own mouth as he adjusts your positions on the sofa—easing your legs off of his shoulders in exchange for spreading them wider on the cushions. How he manages to do that without his cock slipping out of you is a testament to your flexibility, and he's already cooking up what he'll do about that information for next time.

Mingyu continues kissing you all while he plants one foot on the couch and the other on the floor. When he tugs your hips even closer it's only then that you realize that the lunatic has you in a mating press.

"How long have you been thinking about me fucking you like this?" he whispers, deciding to drag it out with slow, deep thrusts that only serve to frustrate you. "You wouldn't have let me go this far if you hadn't thought about it at least once, princess."

I've wanted to fuck you since the old man introduced us, is the correct answer but you've still got some shred of dignity. If Mingyu wants the truth, he's going to have to work for it.

"Fuck me again after this, and I might give you an answer," you rasp, meeting his lazy thrusts with some of your own to get the point that you want him to ram into you across.

"There she is," Mingyu laughs. "My nasty, sharp-tongued princess. Thought I lost you for a sec."

"You will if you don't fuck me until I black out."

"Oh? All you had to do was ask, you know."

Then and there, Mingyu makes good of that interesting position he'd unknowingly lured you into—plunging that fat cock even deeper into your pussy if that's even possible. It felt heavenly, taking all of him while your legs dangled off his shoulders, but there's just something about having your legs spread impossibly wide as he drills into you with the full intention of making you come until you're crying that does it for you.

As each second passes, Mingyu's thrusts become more erratic—hips snapping with hard, calculated strokes so fucking good that tears are starting to glisten along the lines of your lashes like he promised.

You mewl his name like a string of prayers as the sound of your cunt squelching with every thrust rings in your ears. It's insane how close he's driven you to the edge in the span of thirty minutes, and you're starting to grow fearful of how addicting it feels to have him inside you like this.

At this point, you'd rather get off on Mingyu's cock than get high from some shady sativa joint. Something tells you he'd rather have that, too.

"Where do you want me, princess?" he whispers into your ear, reaching between your legs to give you just the right pressure you've been missing on your clit. You have to bite back a sob when he presses his thumb against it.

"Inside," you whimper as he continues plunging his engorged length into you. "Fill me with your cum, please, Gyu. I want it—want it so bad."

Mingyu hisses when you clench around his cock, large hands undoubtedly about to leave bruises on your thighs come morning. When you hear that deep, sexy laugh in your ear, you know it's all over for you.

"Come on my cock first, princess. Then I'll give you what you want."

He punctuates the words by drawing quick, tight circles on your clit all while keeping up the cadence of his thrusts. With the steady stream of stimulation he's so willing to give, it's a no-brainer for another orgasm to blindside you yet again.

You cry out with bliss as you screw your eyes shut—tears running down your cheeks in cascades as you fall apart on Mingyu's cock. He fucks into you despite the overstimulation, his own high not far behind because of the expression you're showing him.

"That's it," he rasps, leaning down to kiss the tears away. "Fucking cry for me, princess."

You're not sure if you're just too blissed out to comprehend it properly, but you're pretty sure that Mingyu just triggered another orgasm from you when you feel him twitch inside—your tight channel being covered in his white hot emission.

It doesn't help that your insatiable lover continues to fuck his cum deeper into your abused cunt, taking full advantage of this position while he can.

"M-Mingyu," you beg, fingers raking across his back as he punches the breath out of your lungs. "Too much. T-Too much."

You thought he wouldn't heed your words, but surprisingly, Mingyu halts every movement to gaze at you with a hint of concern lining his gaze. Wordlessly, he eases himself out of your sore cunt, wiping the tears off your eyes before pressing a kiss on your lips.

"Sorry," he murmurs before gently fixing the straps of your nightgown. He even tugs the hem down despite the fact that his cum is currently leaking out of you. "You want me to tuck you in?"

You nod, lacing your fingers around his neck, the overstimulated mess you are. Mingyu breathes out a quiet laugh before carrying you into his arms again.

"Alright, princess. Let's get you to bed."

You don't have the heart nor the energy to protest. Besides, it's his job to take care of you, after all.

⟢ end notes: reminder to not take any of the medical indications abt drugs that i included in this fic seriously. i made all of those up. oh and this should go w/o saying but don't fuck anyone while under the influence of anything AT ALL !!!

that aside, happy birthday to everyone's favorite puppy boy mingyu! i ended up loving him a lot more as i stanned svt, and i hope everyone else gives him the same love as well! god knows he has lots to give to both his members and his fans ueueue

++ if you spotted a few errors here and there, please don't tell me or i'll die of embarrassment ^_^ this wasn't proofread bcs i wanted to drop this exactly on his bday (i am 1 hour and 34 mins late!) HEHEHE i was sposed to write an ending scene in the morning where gyu wakes up and sees her wearing his shirt while making breakfast but that'll make this too long :| i'll just leave that to ur imagination!

#seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #mingyu smut #mingyu x reader #seventeen x reader #kim mingyu #svt smut #svt fanfic #lovelyhan #🎲 ask games #full length fic 📚#💭 request

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booliuu · 25 days ago

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Hi hi hi hello!!!! Can I request Tim Wright, Brian Thomas and Ticci Toby x (gn) reader, where reader has been working under Slenderman far longer than them? Like they are known as Slenderman's number 1 worker/puppet as he trusts them the most but Reader absolutely despises it but can't really rebel or else they get punished

The boys get assigned a mission with the reader or something and they slowly start knowing the real reader and liking them

I hope I explained it well sgzjdbbdb

you’re not too bad after all. . .

Pairing: Proxies ( masky , hoody, toby) x (gn!) reader

tags/warnings: (1k or more) , bit of gore & blood . lmk if anything else i need to add ^^.

ꪆৎ 𝙰/𝙽 : AAAHH IM EXCITED! heyyyy thanks for checking out my blog!! i love this prompt so much ngl💗💗😭😭. you explained it perfectly anon dw! i have fun time writing this out! i hope this what you requested for i lowkey got lost while i was writing and didn’t expect it this long :,D enjoy reading! thx for the request 🤍.

request and ask are open! if you like my content don’t forget to like , comment , & reblog❤️.

my masterlist

You’ve know your boss for quite some time now. for as long as you remember actually. starting from that devastating night that you’ll never forget. can’t even sleep without nightmares plunging your dreams, constantly reminding you of your mistakes. you were simply just hanging out with your closest friends at that time in woods that now your fulling regretting . you tried changing the plans to be elsewhere but all of your friends dismissed your worries and suspicions of the woods. won’t even answer your questions but peer pressure you to just trust them. little do they and even you that slender had plans for you and your friends.

this tragic event happened with in a flash. your friends kept mumbling, giggling , even shouting harsh remarks about the woods. of course you join in the fun but there’s just strange lingering feeling you feel in the pit of your stomach. even in the back of your mind you knew that this wasn’t any ordinary woods , too many trees surrounding the place, no other trespassers either. it was just you and your friends. there’s something here that says without any explanation: get out of the woods.

next thing you know it screams of your friends entered your ears. one by one there blood was on the your hands. after you realize what you have done. it was to late. your now standing in front of a suited man that has no face that has his hand stretched out for you to grab.

•

suddenly you woke up gasping for air, as if you just finished a race. your forehead partially drenched with sweat. one hand placed on the crown of your temple while the other is clutching your bedsheets out of dear life . looking around the room with paranoid eyes and slowly realizing that your safe. you closed your eyes for bit trying to grasp reality at the moment until a familiar static was interrupting your thoughts . you groaned loud out of a frustration. great another mission you mentally sighed. closed your eyes for a bit trying to get rid of the leftover sleep before getting up from bed and getting ready to complete another mission

once your ready for the day, you left your cabin double checking if you locked the door. how could you forget, paranoia has you in a chokehold ever since the incident. walking around the forest, hearing the familiar sounds of your shoes crunching the leaves on the ground , hearing the birds flying and chirping . it lessen your anxiety a little, it’s better than hearing screams of terror coming from someone else mouth.

stepping foot now to your normal area where your normal assisted to whatever he wants you to do. you don’t like your new life at all, you wished you can go back in time. where everything is normal. but you simply can’t because once he has you under his control… there’s no way of getting out. it’s endless cycle. even if you have “died”, you always. always without of doubt mange to come back from the last place you came from. it doesn’t even help that your known to be his top proxy. many of your “colleagues”despise you because after everything they all been through you mange to his top rank proxy. completely your missions without complains. he trust you to do his dirty bidding.

rebelling is a no go. you have tried multiple or even numerous times of escaping his grasp on you. it always the same, you start a new life thinking you have everything under control. you have friends and a capable job but at the end of the day it manages to find you again. hearing that god awful static noise that makes you want to cry out of fear. you pass out and you return outside of your cabin. your back to step 1 again.

your quite lost in thought until you heard some quiet mumbling from your spot of the woods. you raised an eyebrow and cross both of arms while walking slowly to the sound it’s coming from.

“ o-oh it’s you..!” your body tense a bit , eyes wondering where the sound is coming from . a firm hand placed on your shoulder and directed where he is standing, caught a glimpse of a young boy around the same age as you . wearing orange goggles that’s placed on top his head , turtle neck under a hoodie that seen better days , same that goes for his jeans and boots , messy and unbrushed brunette hair. gave the young man a weak wave as a greeting then looking pass him. two other man that looks older than both of us. one of them wearing a yellow hoodie and the other wearing a red plaid shirt smoking a cigarette both having a conversation that couldn’t be heard with in ear shot .

“ oh.. um…” you stumbled your words a bit trying to think about what to say next to the brunette boy , but a man who wear red plaid shirt interrupted your thoughts. cleared his throat and stomped the cigarette on the ground. “ ain’t going to tell us who you are.” he crossed his arms and gave you a weak glare. poor guy looks he hasn’t slept in days. “ everybody here knows who you are y/n , your particularly his favorite proxy.” he chuckled dryly lacking any ounce of humor. he try to maintain a calm tone but there was hint of jealousy surrounding his words.

not know what to say next, the man that was leaning against a tree , jabbed his friend on the shoulder from his comment. the yellow hooded man looking at you now and gave a smile, that didn’t quite reach his eyes. he waved his hand in the air . shook his head a bit and gave his friend a weak scowl , “ sorry about him.. he’s a bit tired today, “ he mumbled out a apology before looking at you . “we all just completed a mission but we’re just now assigned to another one and it looks coming with us.” he pointed to himself, “ i’m brian.” pointed to his friend,” that’s tim.” tim let out a small grunt as a response. and then at brunette boy,”and that’s toby .” you nodded at him. just after he introduced you to his friends , toby and tim went straight for the truck. guessing that tim truck you mentally told yourself. brian with his back turned and walked towards the vehicle he signal you to follow him. “ come on.. we don’t have all day.” you followed him almost immediately.

after the completing the mission. day after day it looks like you’ve joined there little group. you figured out who’s the leader of the group without much thought. it didn’t brother you or anything it was almost a breath of fresh air since it was only you all the time. the more missions you all finished, the closer you all got. there all were pretty distant with you but the first one that decided to talked you was toby. his tics didn’t never bother you nor his mood swings. you gave the space he needs before coming back to talk to him again . you listen to him talk about anything to whatever come across his mind without any judgment.

brian couldn’t tell him much about himself because he assumes right after be coming a proxy, his memories were immediately wiped out and only remembers knows the present. same goes wth Tim. in the other hand, was the most difficult to connect with. not only he was a bit rude and an asshole there was an invisible boundary between you and him. although day after day he seems to loosen up a bit, he started being protective of you and you’ve picked up a habit of carrying a lighter even though you don’t smoke. it was for a particularly for tim.

one particular night, you all coming back a really difficult mission. it tired everyone out but least it’s over with now. walking on a trail that everyone knows by heart, you stopped for a bit while others paused there walking.

“ everythin’ alright ?” tim mumbled while blowing out some smoke. even though his back was turned you can tell he was worried.

you let out a tiny yawn , rubbing your eyes seems like your body wants to sleep now. by why now you thought to yourself. toby hurried to walk to your side and immediately put an arm around shoulder. “ you can lean against me while we walk.” he said. you nodded and gave me a light smile before walking again.

there was silence for bit, before you opened your mouth to say something. “ you know you guys are that bad after all… “ you creaked a smile and leaning against toby neck, your eyes looking up and you can tell he was smiling underneath the muzzle mask. “ your not bad to yourself darlin..” tim said with a half smirk while huffing his final smoke before stomping it on the ground. brian only nodded agree with tim’s comment. maybe this life wasn’t too bad after all…

𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚜: @/k1ssyoursister & @/hyuneskkami

ꪆৎ 𝙰/𝙽 : i’m going to be honest with y’all right now, i haven’t written this much in sooo long😵, so i’m sorry if my grammar is bit rusty , wordy, or sentences look a bit weird. i’ll get the ball rolling again dwww 💪💪!! it’s just writers block has been kicking my butt lately and i didn’t want to make you wait.. i apologize if this wasn’t what you expect anon 🥹 thx for the request though.

* feedback is always welcome. if you like my content please don’t get to like , reblog , and comment ^^.

liuuboo2025 do not copy , translate or plagiarize any of my works. thank you ♡ﾟthx for reading! love y’all!

#₊‧꒰ა🍓 liu's post's #creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #ticci toby #ticci toby x reader #toby erin rogers #ticci toby creepypasta #marble hornets #tim wright #masky #hoody #brian thomas #tim wright x reader #brian thomas x reader #proxies #gn!reader #ask #creepypasta fanfic

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fiapartridge · 1 year ago

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bye ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ | jack hughes

“maybe someday we'll look back with love.”

☼ pairing: jack hughes x fem!reader

☼ summary: feeling down, an ad for lacuna inc. makes its way to your doorstep, prompting you to travel to new york city and erase your memory of the one thing that's hurting you...

☼ fia’s note 💌: eee i love this song! this album is 100% a no-skip album! again, thx for joining us on this 13-part-series <3 pls enjoy “bye” ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

eternal sunshine hq ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

prev part: intro (end of the world) ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

*₊ ° .　. • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

He still lingered around your house. Memories of you two slow dancing in the kitchen, sitting on countertops as he stands between your legs, dolloping whip cream on your nose as you laughed like it was the funniest thing on the planet. Honestly, to you, it was the funniest thing on the planet. You two lived in your own world; on your own planet. Everyone saw it that way, and for while, you did too.

You had been meaning to ship his belongings back to him: the red and black Devils sweatshirts piled on your dresser, the teddy bear he won you during your trip to Coney Island, the cologne he left on your desk in case you missed him while he was on a road trip. You couldn’t stay in your apartment anymore. Every time you came back to the beige walls of your small home, you were greeted with reminders of Jack. And it stung every single time.

Collecting his items from around your apartment, you stuffed them into a white cardboard box. You didn’t know what you would do with it. Maybe you could ding dong ditch Jack and just leave the items at his doorstep, or maybe you could burn it somewhere with your best friend, Courtney. Upon deciding your next step, a slip of paper slid underneath your door.

You stood there for a moment, watching the paper sit in its place, its words tucked to the underbelly of the pamphlet. Walking over, you cautiously kneeled down and turned the sheet over.

“Lacuna, inc.

They say time heals all wounds, but the hardest part about dealing with a wound in your past is not the pain, or having to relive it again and again. The hardest part is that it makes you question who you are. Don’t let the memory define you. Erase it. Start anew. Reinvent yourself without the lingering thought of them in your mind, and the prospect of questioning your abilities in the future.

Visit Lacuna, inc. at 210 E Grand St. New York, NY 10019. Call us at +1 (917) 964 - 3205.

Become yourself again.”

It felt stupid, right? Erasing the memory of Jack Hughes and your relationship with him from your entire memory? It felt extreme and dangerous—highly unlike you. But that was the thing that broke the camel’s back in the first place. You couldn’t be what Jack wanted you to be. You couldn’t be spontaneous and take risks and be dangerous. Maybe it was time to start? Because for the past two months, you felt this unbearable ache in your chest and you were tired of feeling it. You were tired of wondering if you were enough, or if you could ever be happy again.

This could fix that. It could fix everything. It could fix you.

Which was why you found yourself in the driver's seat of your car, your collection of items that reminded you of Jack in the passenger seat beside you, and your GPS pulled up with the location of Lacuna, inc. in New York City.

You were going to become yourself again.

*₊ ° .　. • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

The waiting room was small: uncomfy chairs lining the perimeter of the room, a table in the center with research about lacunar amnesia and the safety of the practice, and ugly overhead lighting that made you feel like you were little again, waiting nervously at the doctor’s office.

A brown clipboard laid on your thighs with a waiver, asking you if you really wanted to do it. There was no going back. There was no regaining the memory of Jack Hughes after the procedure. Once it was gone, it was gone— for good. No more Jack.

You could move on—the same way it looked like he already had.

“You have given extensive thought behind your decision and give “Lacuna, inc.” exclusive permission to remove this person completely from your mind: Yes or No”

With a shaky breath, you checkmarked: Yes.

A couple minutes later, your name was called by one of the nurses and you were carrying your box of Jack’s things into the procedure room. They took the box from your hands, laying it on a table with big machinery and lasers. This whole thing felt foreign to you, but you were ready.

Sitting down in a chair at the center of the room, they strapped patches to your temples as you sat with your hands intertwined in your lap. Your heartbeat raced on the monitor beside you as you closed your eyes, letting the memories take you for the last time.

“Marry me,” Jack blurted as you laid in his arms on the sofa of his apartment. He could feel you tense up. He could feel your breath stutter and you rise from your position.

“What?” you asked, unsure if you had heard him correctly. You started dating Jack when you were 20. You had a year left of college, he was already playing in the NHL, and you had never met anyone quite like him. He was carefree and limitless. He believed that anything was possible; that logistics weren’t important. You were the one that kept him leveled; that yes, ideas and fantasy is important, but the actuality of it is important too.

“Marry me,” he repeated. He said it so simply, as if it held the same weight as asking if you wanted to go out for ice cream later, or if you wanted to stay in or go out for dinner tonight.

You furrowed your brows, your mouth running dry. “We’re 22, Jack.”

He scoffed, mirroring your body language as he rose from his position on the couch. “So?” he shrugged. He took your hands in his as you failed to meet his green eyes. “I want to be with you, Y/N. I know that more than anything. You can move in with me, we could get engaged now and married next year, my grandmother would love you, and—”

“Jack—”

“My brothers already consider you a part of the family—”

“Jack—”

“Why don’t we just make it official, you know? You could be family and—”

“Jack stop,” you scolded, removing your hands from his as he stared at you with a look you’ve never seen before. He’s never been the level-headed type. He’d always been one to fantasize, but this felt extreme. You two were still young, you were still trying to find a stable job and make a name for yourself. You couldn’t get married now. “Listen to yourself. I don’t even have a stable job.”

“You don’t need one!” he exclaimed. “I can work, I can make enough for the both of us, you don’t need to worry about money.”

You stood up from the couch, fuming. How could he just dismiss everything you’ve ever worked for like that? “But I want to work.”

“So work,” he shrugged. “Find a job, I don’t know! All I know is that I want to get married to you. Don’t you want that with me?”

You paced around the living room, trying to wrap your head around everything. “Yes, of course I want that with you, Jack. I just,” you took a deep breath. “I don’t want that right now.”

You watched him recoil. He wanted it now, you could see it in the way he goes silent, and the way he looks as if he wants to be nowhere near you right now. “When do you want it then?”

It wasn’t like you had a set date in mind, but it sounded like all he could hear from you was that you didn’t want to get married. He didn’t want to listen to you. Whenever anything deviated from what he wanted, he shut down. That was just who he was, always has been.

You crossed your arms, holding yourself as if that was the only thing that felt familiar to you in that moment. “I don’t know. When we’re 24? 25?”

“Two more years?” he questioned incredulously. If he knew he wanted to be with you for the rest of his life, why couldn’t he just wait?

“Jack, your fans don’t even know we’re dating!” you shouted. “How are they going to feel when they find out you’re fucking married? Would you even tell them or would you just keep me a secret for the rest of our lives?”

“You know I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“I’m just not ready, and you know you aren’t either.”

He laughed, but it felt poisonous, like venom was dripping from his tongue. It didn’t feel like his infectious laughs that you wanted to replay in your mind for the rest of your life. It felt like a memory you needed to erase. “What are you saying, Y/N? This isn’t just a random thought. I’ve been thinking about this for a while now. And I guess, I just thought that you were thinking about it, too.”

“I have been! Just...not now, Jack. Why can’t you just listen to me? It’s not just you involved in this! This is both of our lives that this is affecting!”

“Well, I didn’t think it would be such a terrible thing for you.”

You couldn’t believe what he was saying. He was acting as if the two years you had spent together were nothing to you. “I never said that and you know that.”

“Yeah? Well, it sure feels like it.”

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

It was like you hit a nerve. Like you touched something that you never knew was beneath him. “Then why are you even with me? If I’m so unbelievable.”

“You can’t be serious, Jack,” you shook your head, rounding the corner of the room and towards your shoes that were laid at the entrance of the apartment. You pointed at him as he followed you. “You’re acting like a child. Grow up!”

“Me? You’re the one that’s scared of committing!”

“I’m not scared of committing to you, Jack. I’m scared of not being me anymore. You need to know the difference!”

“Then tell me the fucking difference, because right now, it just feels like we’re breaking up.”

Your head shook, your fingers didn’t feel like your fingers anymore, and in real life, in that office chair, your eyes scrunched and your breathing quickened. You couldn’t relive this. Somehow, it hurt more the second time.

“I don’t even know who I am yet!” you threw your hands in the air. “And you just expect me to be Mrs. Hughes? To be a part of your family? To make me… yours?”

“Come on, Y/N. You’re being dramatic. You’re acting like I’m taking you, or something.”

“I’m not dramatic, you’re just not listening to me!”

“I’m trying, okay? I’m trying to listen to you, but you’re making this so fucking difficult. You make everything fucking difficult. You’re just too much sometimes.”

You didn’t even know you were crying by then, but you were. You were sniffling as you walked around the apartment, grabbing your jacket from the couch, your purse from the dining table, and your shoes from the entryway. You could hear him pestering you with questions: Where are you going? We’re not done with this. Are we breaking up? If you leave, we’re done.

But you’ve spent your life being a people pleaser. You’ve abandoned yourself time and time again to make ends meet. You’ve skipped so many important events to go to his games, and to meet him in California just because he asked you to, and at the most important times of your career, times when you asked him to just stop by for a second so you could have one familiar, comforting face, he had a game, or he had to go out with the guys for “team-bonding”, or something else of higher matter just took priority. All you asked for was effort from both sides.

So to hear that you prioritizing yourself for the first time was dramatic? You couldn’t hear him anymore. All you wanted was to get the hell out of there—even if it meant breaking up.

Courtney pulled up outside as you rushed into her car, your chest heaving and tears spilling out of your eyes. She didn’t ask what happened, she could tell from your texts that it was something bad, something unrecoverable.

But, as if saying it out loud would help you comprehend it for yourself, you said the undeniable.

“I think we just broke up.”

#eternal sunshine ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚#jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagines #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes #ariana grande #eternal sunshine #eternal sunshine of the spotless mind #hockey imagines

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midnightstay-blog · 1 year ago

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hi! about the prompt list, could you do 6, 21 and 38 for jackson wang? fluff or angst, it's up to you. thx

Sure here you go. 🙂 I hope you like it. I did more of a mix of fluff and angst but it’s mostly fluff. But I don't know if I like the ending. Anyways thanks for requesting.

Tw: mentions of blood and alcohol.

💫Rain & Wounds.💫( Requested)

Genre: Jackson Wang x reader

Theme : Friends to lovers

Summary: After an eventful night out with friends things between you and Jackson change forever.

Rating: Pg13

Word Total: 1,898

“Stop moving You’re making things worse for yourself.” You tell Jackson as you try to bandage his hand for the third time. You were out at a club when a guy started hitting on you. You tried to reject him, but he wasn’t in the mood to take no for an answer. Soon it caught the attention of a slightly drunk Jackson and let’s just say things went left from there. The night didn’t start out with him getting in a fight the complete opposite actually. Originally you were supposed to be out celebrating after you got the news that Your book had become a New York times best seller. However, as the night went on the group of friends that y’all were with suggested going clubbing. Fast forward a few hours and now here you are at 3 am in the bathroom of your two-bedroom apartment with medical supplies and a drunk Jackson to look after.

“I’m fine really.” Jackson stated trying to move you out of his way.

“You are far from it actually. “You tell him while placing a hand on his chest and lightly pushing him back towards the counter. “Your hand has a huge gash on it and you’re bleeding on my floor.” You state in a matter-of-fact tone.

For as long as you’ve known him Jackson had always been protective of you. Though you mentioned on multiple occasions that you are in fact grown and can take care of yourself, part of him could never quite let you.

“Oh, please that guy had it coming.” Jackson exclaimed. Reaching into the first aid kit you grab an alcohol wipe in order to properly clean his wound. Noticing this Jackson quickly removes his hand from your grasp.

Letting out a sigh you grab his hand in an attempt to wipe the wound.

“Give me your hand I have to clean the gash. “Looking between you and the wipe he shakes his begins to shake his head making you roll your eyes.

“Jackson you’re a grown man you should be able to handle an alcohol wipe.” He goes to protest again but before he can you grab his hand wiping the blood from his palm. He winces at the alcohol begins to work its way through his hand. Shortly after you apply some antibiotic ointment. Eventually the room briefly falls silent as you begin to reach for the gauze and the non-stick pads. Pressing the pad into his hand he winces again as you finish up. Examining your handy work, you instruct him to remove himself from your counter while you clean up your mess. Agreeing he makes his way into the living room. Sometime later you emerge from the bathroom and make your way over to the kitchen. Going over to the fridge you pull out a bottle of wine that you had opened the previous night and set it on the counter before offering him some. With his approval you reach over to your glass cabinet and pull two glasses before joining him on the couch.

For a while you two talk about all different kinds of things from work to friends even his upcoming fashion line. After a while you even started to go down memory lane a bit. “Remember that time you took me to meet BamBam and Yugyeom and he spilled what was it.” You pause snapping your fingers as you recall the memory. “Um… Oh it was lemonade I think strawberry lemonade if I’m not mistaken.” He insists. “Yeah, that’s right because it was a big pitcher of it too.” You said laughing. “Yugyeom ended up knocking the pitcher over and breaking it because he was trying to impress one of the girls at the pool party with this one dance move.” Jackson laughed as he recalled the memory. “And then turns out she had a boyfriend the whole time.”” I felt so bad for him, but man was that funny.” You added. After a while you could feel a slight buzz from the wine starting to take over and for a second you contemplate calling it a night. However, the memory of how you met begins to creep into your mind and you begin to smile.

“What?” Jackson asks noticing the change in your features.

“Nothing I was just thinking about how we met and how lucky I am that we did.” You tell him.

“Oh, please if anything I’m the lucky one. “He tells you.

“How so?” you begin to inquire. Silence falls over you and for a moment you can hear rain begin to fall against your apartment window.

Jackson takes a deep breath before he begins.

“How can I not be?” he admits. “Your kind and you have a great personality.” “Also, you always look out for the people that you love and you’re there whenever I need you even if I don’t feel like I do.” “Not to mention you bake a mean birthday cake.” He says as he recalls the cake you baked him last year for his birthday. “And you always know what to say in times of crisis.” “You actually care about people not a lot of other people do that.” “Usually, it’s just an everyman for themselves type of deal.” Your smart and not to mention you are beautiful even when you don’t think so at times.” He adds. “So, believe me when I say that I am very lucky to have you as my friend.” He finishes. You sit there for a while touched at his beautiful words. “Jackson that was so beautiful thank you.” You say while pulling him in for a hug. You stay like that for a moment before you begin to pull away. Upon pulling away you both pause taking in each other briefly before sharing a kiss. Coming to terms with what is happening you both pull away before Jackson begins to speak once more.

“I love you.” he states. Though hearing it this time it sounds different. You take a moment to soak in his words letting them fully hit you. Soon after you clear your throat before getting up from the couch with you wine glass in hand.

“Your drunk “You exclaim waving your hand dismissively.

“So? “he says.

“So, you don’t mean that. “You say with a pause. “At least not in the way that you think you do.” You tell him.

He stands up from the couch and begins walking over to your kitchen island meeting you by it.

“I mean every word of what I just said to you otherwise I wouldn’t have said it.” He states sadness evident in his tone. Placing your glass in the sink you rinse it out before brushing past him and heading towards your hallway closet. Sometime later you re emerge with a blanket along with a few pillows and place them on the couch.

“It’s late you can sleep of the wine here you tell him as you begin to make up the couch.”

“Why don’t you believe me?” He questions. You stay silent for a bit before continuing. Walking over to you he places his hand over yours stopping you in your tracks.

It’s not that you don’t believe him. In fact, a part of you had always secretly hoped this day would come. You just wanted him to be sure this wasn’t one of those drunken confession things that he would regret later.

“Hey, talk to me what’s going on?” He questions placing his bandaged hand on your cheek. You lightly place a hand on his chest as you begin to softly push him away from you.

“Nothing.” You state placing your hands by your side. “I just- I just think that you should sleep off the wine and if you feel the same in the morning then we’ll talk about it.” You say giving a shrug. Not believing you but also not wanting to push the matter Jackson agrees. Not to long after you exchange goodnights before you make your way to your room and eventually fall asleep.

The next morning you are woken up by the smell of breakfast. For a moment you lay in bed confused before remembering the events of the previous night. Feeling somewhat embarrassed you crawl out of bed and make your way into the living room. There Jackson is stood at your stove making eggs. His shirt is missing but he’s still wearing his pants from the night before. Clearing your throat, you catch his attention before muttering a small “Good morning “and siting at the island. He response with a brief “Morning “before turning his attention back to the stove. “How is your hand? You inquire.

“It’s fine I changed the bandages already.” He states in a dryer tone. “Oh... okay.” And with that a brief and awkward silence befalls you both. Soon he joins you at the island and places your breakfast in front of you. Feeling the awkwardness cling in the air you contemplate addressing the conversation from the previous night. That is until he beats you to it.

“Look about last night.” He chimes. He tries to explain but you manage to cut him off.

“Don’t even worry about it we were both drunk and said/ did somethings that we probably didn’t mean so it’s fine.” You state hoping to save yourself from embarrassment.

“I meant everything I said to you last night.” He expresses. You sit there in a bit of shock. Noticing your state, he continues “When I’m with you it’s like seeing the sun after a week of rain.” “When I look at you, I forget how to speak.” “Often times I find myself saying something so embarrassingly stupid that I want to just evaporate into thin air.” I genuinely don’t know why my brain just goes blank when I look at you. I think I’m going crazy. “He states as if he just had an epiphany of sorts. Once he finishes, he looks over to you. For a while you just sit there looking at your plate of eggs while in deep though. If he really did love you, why did it take him so long to realize it? How long has he felt that way? Questions like this and more swirled in your mind however, in that moment the only thing you felt was happiness. A smile began to form on your features before you turned to him and gave a response. “I love you too.” You said slowly letting the words hit one by one.

“In all honesty I wanted to say it back when you said it last night, but I didn’t want this to be one of those drunken mistakes for either of us, so I waited.” You responded. “Really, I wanted to tell you ever since you showed up to my event last year, but I saw that really pretty girl with you and I chickened out at the last second. You say truthfully.

Your confession leaves him speechless for the first time since last night. Getting up from his seat he makes his way over to you. You take a moment to explain further. However, before you can he cuts you off with a kiss. This one is warmer than the last tender almost. In that moment all of your previous worries melt away leaving just you and him.

Request are open

#midnightstay blog #jackson wang x reader #jackson wang fluff #jackson x reader #jackson wang imagines #jackson wang scenarios #jackson wang fanfic #got7 jackson #jackson wang #got7 #got7 x reader #got7 fanfic #got7 scenarios #magic man

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delight-angelsbliss · 1 month ago

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Hello! Could I request S1 number 26 with Sonic?

Thank you 🫶

Prompts: "I can never get enough of of looking at you like this"

Warnings: none to my knowledge there aren't any specific pronouns:3

Notes: Heya cutie patootie thx for requesting and I hope you like these<33 sry this got out so late my queue only posts two things a day lol and I had some business I still can't believe I worded 26 so stupidly but sucks to suck ig I hope this just short and sweet enough

Sonic isn't much of a romantic person, but when he is, it's always fun and entertaining

His ideas flow like a river and his enthusiasm is unmatched

So it wasn't a surprise that when the month of love came up, he was all over you with chocolate, physical affection, and much more

On this particular evening he decided to stay home with you and bake some heart macaroons while dancing to music

He asked a few friends for help and got some recipes online to know what to buy and how to bake them

It was a fool proof plan

The two of you were cleaning the mess from flour and anything that might have got messy while dancing to music during the baking session

Sonic even started breakdancing (please tell me someone has seen him breakdance because oh em gee why is he lowkey good at it) the macaroons were in the oven and you two finally had a moment together, away from harm and stress

As you continued to mop, you didn't notice sonic looking at you, he was admiring you, the way you were dancing, singing and just enjoying life

"I can never get enough of of looking at you like this" he suddenly blurts out, you look back at him, smiling

"Ok, Mr. Charming, don't forget the macaroons" you retort, before turning back to the mess on the counter

It wasn't a rare occurrence for sonic to compliment you, quite the contrary! He was always on and with you whenever he could or when he wasn't on some adventure

He looks back at you

"I know your smiling!" He says, beaming, he knew you loved when he was affectionate and so did he. Sonic always felt guilty when he had to cancel plans because of something going on, but he knew this was enough to make it up to you

He loved every second of it, maybe it would be nice to do this more often

There's always the rest of February

#sonic x reader #x reader #x gender neutral reader #x gn reader #sonic the hedgehog x reader #sonic reader insert #sonic the hedgehog #જ⁀➴ ♡ janahts february

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pupkashi · 2 years ago

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hello, thx for the sleepover invite! i brought hot chocolate & my own blanket 😤😴

may i pls req the prompt: “freeze. i know you’re not wearing socks and trying to go to sleep right now.” w either toge or megumi? it just seems so ridiculous that i can't hell but to 👀 wonder

hi friend !! I’m glad you got here safely :3 let’s settle in and enjoy our hot choccy under our fuzzy blankets !! I’m gonna go with toge on this one bc i feel like no one talks abt him enough </3

join the sleepover event!

there wasn’t much you and toge disagreed on. the two of sharing knowing looks from across the room when someone said something stupid, coming to a consensus on most controversial topics (is a tomato a fruit? pineapple on pizza? pepsi or coke?).

so the shock on your face was evident when you heard your lovers voice in utter distress when you crawled into bed next to him.

“pickled mustard leaf?” worry lacing toge’s voice as he stared at you with wide eyes and lightly furrowed brows.

“yeah I’m getting ready to sleep, why?” you ask, confused as you wiggle under the sheets and scoot closer to your boyfriend, he only looks at you with a bewildered look on his face.

“bonito flakes” he says, shaking his head with slightly wide eyes, as if you’d done something absolutely horrible.

‘i know you’re not wearing socks and trying to go to sleep’

“what’s so bad about that?! my feet get cold sometimes” you pout, trying to worm your way under his arm but he only scoots away slightly, causing your mouth to fall open as you laugh at his actions, “togs!”

“fish flakes” he shakes his head, ‘i can’t believe I’m in love with someone who thinks that’s okay.’ there’s a smile creeping onto his face when he turns to look at how utterly and dramatically devastated you looked.

“so this is what makes us break up huh” you sigh, already sitting up and looking down sadly, trying your best to not burst into giggles, “it was a good run, inumaki” you say, holding your hand out for him to shake.

“shut up and kiss me” he says, a smile on his face when he sees you bursting into giggles as you move towards him involuntarily.

the cursed words makes your body buzz in the best way, giggling as your lips crash into your lovers, your eyes fluttering shut before you’re pulling away, both of you out of breath.

“tuna tuna” he smiles, peppering kisses along your face as you gasp at him, smacking his chest lightly before giving him a soft peck on the lips.

“yeah well you’re in love with the ‘loser who wears socks to sleep’ so what’s next?” you tease, “you’re the one who drinks milk with ice in it” you scoff, toge’s eyes narrowing as he already begins to protest.

“salmon and fish flakes!” he groans, throwing his head back against the pillow as you burst out laughing. ‘it’s delicious! try it one time im telling you baby.’

“maybe next time, it’s already almost 3 in the morning” you smile, letting out a satisfied sigh as the two of you settle into each others arms, cuddling impossibly close and becoming a mess of limbs. “g’night i love you,” you whisper, placing a feathery kiss to the tip of his nose.

‘i love you more’ the words seem to translate automatically in your brain now, smiling as the two you start drifting off to sleep.

#omg didn’t know how to end it srry #i hope this is okay !#i rarely write for toge ☹️💔#pupkashi’s sleepover event #inumaki toge #inumaki toge fluff #inumaki toge x reader #inumaki toge headcanons #inumaki toge x you #inumaki toge x reader fluff #toge inumaki x reader #inumaki x reader #inumaki imagines #inumaki fluff #jjk inumaki #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen drabble

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bloodgutsangelcakes · 4 months ago

Text

ok so i've already commented on this but here we go

1 misandry upsets men while misogyny kills and harms women. misandry is not the issue

2 want to focus in on problematic coquette behaviour? drug romanticisation. "i smoke cigarettes in a ldr way" "getting drunk on a tuesday night" "high in my room". all problematic and romanticising a serious problem that can turn a safe space for the expression of femininity into somewhere where problematic behaviour among as young as 12 is celebrated. i'm a victim, my friends are victims, chances are you're a victim. maybe you aren't actively using any type of substance or smoking or drinking, but i'm sure you've thought about it.

(edit) 3 before you address a joke or a kind of personality trait as being problematic, think about the racism, fatphobia, and transphobia, in the community. how many photos do you see of people of colour? plus size people? the aesthetic romanticises femininity, which is beautiful and amazing, but so many people misinterpret this as being 'born woman is only way to be feminine' as if this is helping anyone. while no one says these things out loud (most of the time) the problem of discrimination is so obviously there it's ridiculous.

focus less on the harmless things that most people take know is a joke and put your effort into stopping people from joking about something as if it were harmless.

thx @angelic444heroin for the ss + prompting me to make my own post

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hobiebrownismygod · 1 year ago

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Hi, sorry!!Hope you’re having a nice day! May you make a fanfic where the reader is very secretive, formal and keeps to themself, like they never take off their suit’s mask kinda secretive. And hobie is curious about them and wants to get to know them better?

this was such a fun prompt to write! Thx for requesting <3

Hobie Brown x GN!Reader - Mysterious

WC: <1k

Masterlist

🕷 ______________________________________________________🕷

"Hey Y/N!"

"Hi Peter."

"Hi Y/N!!"

"Hi Peter."

You awkwardly nodded at the passing Spider-people, all of them greeting you excitedly while you barely acknowledged them, keeping your eyes in front of you. There was no point in engaging in a conversation, it'd only end up with you having to answer their questions and force yourself into the open. You weren't ready for that just yet.

You kept your head down as you walked through the door of the training center, pretending not to notice the few Peters that waved at you while fighting, friendly yet blank smiles on their faces. They were all the same.

"Hey, Y/N."

You stopped for a moment and turned around, being greeted by a familiar face that you hadn't seen in the past few days. The same face that was the worst of them all, asking you more questions about yourself and your past life than all the other Peters combined.

"Hi Hobie." You muttered, about to turn away again. You did not want to start a conversation with him right now. It always ended with him probing you with questions about your dimension, your family, your canon events...he was too curious to take a hint.

"Woah, where d'you think you're goin' sunshine?" He asked with a grin, following you as you. "Y'can't get rid of me that easy."

"Obviously not." You mumbled, slowing down your pace when you realized you wouldn't be able to shake him off. He watched you for a moment, as if inspecting you, dark brown eyes running over your mask and suit. "Why do you never take off that mask?" He asked out of the blue, cocking his head towards you slightly.

"I don't feel like it" You replied dryly, not making eye contact with him. "Why don't you feel like it, then?" He asked sweetly, a sly expression crossing his face. "Are you horribly disfigured or something?"

"I just don't find it necessary." Your tone was as cold as you could make it, the annoyance at his presence practically oozing out of your body. "And why's that?" He asked, making his tone as childish as possible, obviously trying to annoy the crap out of you. Little shit. "Because my face shouldn't matter."

"But it's not just your face, is it?" He chuckled. "It's your story too. I've known you for a month, but I don't know a single thing about you" His tone turned teasing. "You have something to hide?"

You froze. "I just don't like talking about it, okay?" You snapped, looking up at him. He backed down slightly, hands going up in the air defensively. "Alright, alright...I'm still curious though." He pushed his hands into the pockets of his vest, leaning in once again. "I mean, we've all experienced the same things...what makes you so special?"

"I never said I was special." You said with a scoff, folding your arms over your chest. "Ahh, but you act like you're special." He replied. "All mysterious and secretive...makes me think you've got something a little different."

"What if it's just none of your business?"

He shrugged. "I'd still like to know."

You shook your head and turned away from him again, but he gently grabbed your arm before you could leave. "Wait!" he said quickly, getting back in front of you. "I just want to get to know you better, dove."

"Why?"

"I just...would like to."

You stayed silent for a moment, mulling it over. "If I answer your questions, will you leave me alone?" He rolled his eyes. "I'd rather be friends, but if that's what you'd like..."

"I'd like you to leave me alone."

"Will do, princess. Now first question-why hide your face?"

You bit the inside of your cheek, already regretting giving him his chance. "I just don't want to take it off."

"I won't leave you alone if you don't answer my questions."

"Fine, fine." you said quickly, "I just don't trust any of these people with my identity."

He raised an eyebrow. "You think they're gonna use it against you?" He asked amusedly, a laugh on the tip of his tongue. "We're all Spider-man too...I think you're a bit mental."

"Shut up!" You said annoyedly, shaking your head at him. "I just have...trust issues, okay?" You murmured, just barely loud enough for him to hear. His smile widened at this confession and he lowered his voice as well. "Honestly? Me too."

"Uh-huh" you replied, not buying into it. "No really-" he responded, "-you know, when I first got here, I wouldn't say a single word to LYLA. Still don't. I don't trust anything that robots got to say."

You chuckled at this. "That's not the same though-" You began.

"I didn't trust people with my face either, 'til I realized everyone's got their mask off so it doesn't really matter." he interjected

You stayed silent, letting his words sink in. How cute. "Alright, next question-"

"Hey, I've already answered a question!" You said, a smile appearing on your face.

"You never said I was only allowed one question." he teased, wagging his finger in your face.

"Jerk."

"Why don't you want to be friends with me?" He tilted his head to the side and you couldn't help but feel a little guilty. You'd been fairly rude to him in the time that you'd known him. Although he was pretty annoying, he still wasn't the worst.

"I just...I'm not very good at making friends." You admitted, breaking eye contact and looking to the side awkwardly. He nodded solemnly, not taking his eyes off of you. "I get it."

"No I'm like really bad at making friends. I just...don't like people. I don't get people."

"Don't feel bad about it. To each their own, right?" he assured you, eyes crinkling up slightly as he grinned.

You grinned back. "I guess you're right."

"Doesn't mean we can't be friends though."

You laughed. "Why do you want to be friends with me so bad?"

"You're mysterious. It draws me in." He said jokingly. "But really, I just want to get to know you." he said, almost embarrassedly. "And I'd like you to get to know me too."

You stared at each other in silence. "Well, when you put it that way, I guess I kind of have to now." You said with a chuckle, extending your hand out to him. "Why don't we start over?"

"Sounds perfect, darling. I'm Hobie, Hobie Brown. You?" He said with a smile, taking your hand and shaking it vigorously. "It's nice to meet you, Hobie Brown. I'm Y/N."

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magicalbuttertarts · 28 days ago

Note

Request!: Smut prompt 35, female reader, Mox or Jay White. Thx! :)

AEW Masterlist

Smut Prompt List 2

This has not been proofread. Please enjoy though.

Warnings: Smut under the cut. Unprotected sex. Oral (f receiving) fingering.

Requested by @neurodivergentempress

WC: 639

©️ magicalbuttertarts 2025: do not repost or translate my work. This is the only place I post my work.

#35: “You look so good, can’t wait to absolutely ruin you”

"Jay, baby, we don't have time for this." You told him, swatting away his hands as they grabbed your ass through the dress you are wearing.

"Mmmm, I say we stay in for the night. Just a night for you and I, in our bed, where I just worship you all night long."

He whispered in your ear, sending a shiver down your body as your mind flashed images of the last time you two spent all night together like that.

He left your body shaking with pleasure as he forced orgasm after orgasm from your body until there was only one word that you could say and think of, and that was his name.

"Jay, you are the one who made these plans with Colten, Austin and Juice, and their partners. We are not calling out on them."

"Fine." Jay pouted as he took a step back to go and put on the shirt that he was going to wear tonight.

"Love?" He called out as you sat down at your vanity to put the final touches on your makeup.

"Yes, Jay?" You two made eye contact in the mirror.

“You look so good, can’t wait to absolutely ruin you."

I knew he meant when we got home later tonight, but my pussy clenched around nothing at the thought of his promised.

◆

Jay barely lasted an hour into our small gathering before he was saying how upset his stomach was.

"I am sure it is nothing. Probably just ate something he shouldn't have." I told our friends, trying not to glare at the man who I love.

"You know how he can't handle some spicy foods. It makes his stomach upset." Jay glared at me over Austin's shoulder as I made fun of him.

"She is probably right. I'll see you three at the airport in two days." Jay said, as we left them standing there, worrying about their friends who was already opening the passenger door for me.

◆

"Jay, please." I whined as I flung my head back against the pillows, trying to close my legs around his head, as it has all become too much for me.

He just pushed my legs apart once again, his tongue and fingers quickly bringing me to another orgasm.

I could feel how wet I was, and I just knew his bead was soaked with my juices.

He finally pulled away, licking his lips as he settled between my legs, rubbing my jelly like legs as he pushed them towards me chest.

"Hold them for me, love." Jay said as he slapped his hard cock against my pussy, making me whimper.

I did as he asked, needing him inside of me.

He started to push in, and he was swearing under his breath.

I knew he wasn't going to last long, not this round anyways.

He bottomed out, grinding his pelvis against me. The tip of his cock nudging my cervix.

He started to pull back, just leaving the tip in before slamming back into me, his name falling from my lips as he did that over and over again.

Jay was fucking into me so hard that it felt like a blur as he pulled orgasm after orgasm after orgasm from my body.

I became a moaning mess, and Jay was no better as he was chasing his own high.

He finally stilled, his cock twitching inside of me as he came, my own eyes going wide at how much there was.

Jay pulled out of me, and I let out a little whine as I wanted him back inside of me.

"Don't be greedy love. Like I said, we have all night." Jay said to me as he placed two of his fingers at my entrance and started to finger me, pushing his cum back inside of me.

Tag list: @lghockey @nicoleveno14 @legit9thlunaticwarrior @hooks-martin @madhatterbri @wwenhlimagines @melissahausen @tahiri-veyla @chantelaustingunn @sunshinevirus

#aew #all elite wrestling #aew fanfiction #wrestler x f/reader #wrestler x female reader #wrestler smut #jay white smut #jay white x female reader #jay white x f/Reader #jay white x you #jay white x y/n #jay white imagine #jay white fanfiction #jay white fic #jay white

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sportspuckball · 12 days ago

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Oooh okay for a prompt...

- Leon POV - Leon is still a hockey player. He needs a dog sitter. Matthew is said dog sitter - Getting together! - 3 words: asleep, hair, soft

Got started on this one: here's a quick preview - look for it on Ao3 soon!

____

Lauren: There’s a volunteer at the hospital named Matthew who dog sits all the time. References and everything

Leon: Age?

Lauren: Somewhere around ours

Leon: And he’s good with overnights?

Lauren: He said he lives in a shoebox, so any time away from it is good. He’s really good with the kids in the cancer ward, I’m sure he’d be great with Bowie.

Lauren: And he knows who we all are, knows the game, isn’t weird. I met him when he helped Connor escape press one day. He heard me mention a friend needed help and he volunteered himself.

Lauren: He’s also very hot

Leon: Lauren

Lauren: Just adding all the information you might need

Leon: I’m not hooking up with my dog sitter

Lauren: Sure. Anyway, 780-728-2329

Leon: Thx Laur

#mattdrai #puck fics #hockey rpf #mattdrai rpf

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yanderes-galore · 2 years ago

Note

Could you do your prompts 18, 20, and 29 for 2012! Leonardo? Thx!

Of course! @okchijt helped me with the plot for this ^^ They're a big help for me recently. Sorry if it came off a bit messy, I struggled at times and had to tweak certain plot points so it may be weaker than usual?

Yandere! 2012! Leonardo Prompts 18, 20, 29

"Kiss me! Kiss me like your life depends on it!"

"I've been waiting too long for this...."

"I want to be this close... forever...."

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Family trouble, Clingy behavior, Manipulation, Forced affection, Consensual turned forced relationship implied, Delusional behavior, Darling doesn't realize they messed up until the end.

"Come on, please Leo!" You whine. "Let's just talk, alright?"

The night air rushes past you as Leo jumps from building to building with you in his arms. Instinctively you cling to him in hopes he doesn't drop you. Your heart hammers heavily in your chest from previous events, barely even calming down when Leo finally let you go on a rooftop.

Leonardo's obsession was something that could not be overlooked by his brothers anymore. It was getting to the point that missions and training sessions were falling apart. As a result... his brothers felt something had to be done.

Even if Leonardo's obsession is out of your control the others still began to hold a grudge against you for feeding into it. From what you know you were just meeting Leonardo for your usual night time date. Only for his brothers to arrive...

Then there was arguing.

They said Leonardo needs to stay away from you, that he can't come running off to you and abandon everything. You don't understand the conversation. You're about to leave them to it until Leonardo pulled out his blades against his own brothers and runs off with you.

This is what lead you to the rooftop. Thankfully no blood was spilt, you trusted Leonardo enough to not harm his own brothers. However you still weren't quite sure what began all of this-

You wanted answers.

Leonardo looks around the night streets of New York, from what you can assume he's checking if you're followed. Carefully you choose your words. Something's wrong.

"What the hell is going on, Leo?" You ask. "We need to go back, you're making a mistake-"

"They were going to take you away!" Leonardo snaps at you, eyes blazing in frustration. "I can't allow that to happen. They're trying to come in between us... I've been waiting too long for this...."

Silence takes over the both of you at Leonardo's sudden outburst. This entire time you've been giving into his strange attractions to you. Guilt pools into your stomach at the thought that you might have encouraged any of this. You worry you ruined his family by feeding into his delusions.

You worry about the safety of the city.

As much as you love Leonardo you realize you'll have to make a sacrifice. You want to dedicate yourself to Leo, but the cost is too much. You need to do something to fix this.

"Leo... you know I'll always be yours forever, right?" You ask cautiously. Leo flicks his gaze to you and nods.

"Of course, love...." He smiles softly.

"Then please return to your family." You bargain. "I'll always be yours as long as you protect your friends, family, and the city!"

Leonardo stares at you for a moment while considering your words before answering.

"Is that a promise?"

"Yes." You confirm, regret creeping up your back.

"Then kiss me!" Leo suddenly orders. "Kiss me like your life depends on it!"

The sudden order makes you freeze. Any sort of regret you had intensifies as Leo eyes you. He wants you to confirm your promise.

He wants to hold you to the fact that you're his.

Leo's delusions cloud the fact you approach him with hesitancy. He ignores the fear you feel for his sudden changes. All he can think of is the lips that meet his own... and the complete and utter bliss that follows after.

The kiss serves as an agreement. The kiss is long... just enough to convince the mutant's delusions. Afterwards he pulls away, holding you tightly in his arms.

This is enough for now....

"I promise to do as you asked...." Leonardo whispers in your ear, kissing the top of your head. "I want to be this close... forever...."

You nod softly bit carefully try to not allow Leo to see your face. It only occurred to you now what you've just set yourself up for. Leonardo is a walking red and in order to keep him calm and focused... you agreed to stay.

You agreed to stay in this relationship for what may be forever, even after you saw the damage it can cause.

Was sacrificing your future freedom worth it for the city now that you've seen the problems it's caused?

#yandere teenage mutant ninja turtles #yandere tmnt #yandere tmnt 2012 #yandere leonardo #yandere tmnt 2012 leonardo

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boltedfruit · 5 months ago

Text

Read on AO3 or below the cut!

Steve's attempt at a record-breaking gangbang ends up with him flying back to Hawkins to track down number one-ninety-eight. The mystery man who left an impression. - A thumb swipes his lower lip. Breath ghosts along the bite mark on his shoulder. It stings. Steve hopes he drew blood. “I’ll remember this forever, sweetheart.”

Thank you to @cowboythighs for giving me permission to write this fic based on their super fun prompt, which you can read here~

Read the full fic below:

What’s in his fridge?

There’s at least one bag of broccoli, half a container left of that nice parmesan he splurged on…maybe the chicken wings in his freezer are still okay. Hopefully? He still has some of that decadent hickory barbeque sauce. There’s no reason he can’t cover a bit of freezer burn with a healthy dousing of the stuff. He didn’t do the dishes last night, but that’s fine. Has time to run the dishwasher before–

Something vibrates. Loudly.

Someone’s phone is going off in the middle of the shoot.

Steve lifts his head, annoyed that the director hasn’t called cut yet. The man on top of him is dripping sweat, a bead of which narrowly misses landing in his eye. Steve casts a look sideways, hoping to catch the director raising his walkie.

Nope. Still posted up behind his wall of cameras. Stoic as ever, the man watches Steve work.

Steve lets the moment drag, his expectant silence punctuated only by the grunting and groaning of the muscled man pumping away between his spread legs.

More loud vibrations.

He cranes his neck to see over the man’s shoulder, sees the clock over the huddled producers and decides himself it’s time for a break.

Steve presses a hand against the massive chest above him and pushes lightly. The man’s movement falters, stops. Steve meets his eyes with an easy air of I’m the star, get off me, and it does the trick. The behemoth withdraws from Steve’s body with a mutter and wipes the sweat from his red brow as Steve swings his legs over the platform and sits up. He tests his weight, but finds he can still place pressure where he needs to without any pain.

The director shouts something Steve doesn’t hear. Calls back, “Somebody’s phone is going off! It’s ruining the vibe.”

“What phone? I don’t hear a phone,” the director says in his heavy German accent, shrugging in a way that rankles Steve. “We’re almost at two-hundred, surely it can—”

“No, it can’t wait. I need five anyway.” His own assistant appears by his side with a robe.

Steve shrugs it on and heads toward the source of the vibrations. Around him, production comes to a standstill while fluffers and PAs run around tending to the talent.

Steve tracks the phone down in a bag near craft services, but a producer beats him to it. She sheepishly digs out her phone and shuts it off, muttering an apology.

Steve sighs, grabs another cracker and decides to take a much needed bathroom break. On his way, he grabs his own phone and sees a text from Robin.

still good for eight?

I’m only at 197, might be closer to 9 or 10.

big ew, but congrats. should I pick up dessert?

Coffee double dutch choco cake pls?

obvi, my very spoiled friend. have fun you little award winning superslut!

Thx, lov u!

Robin sends back a string of emojis. He finishes up in the bathroom, thinking of all the times he’s been nominated for an AVN but never won. And it’s not like it’s terribly hard. He chooses interesting projects. He works with skilled teams. He stays clear of scandals and keeps his nose figuratively and literally clean of all the seedy underground bullshit that comes with the job.

But best actor still eludes him.

It grinds his gears, or at least the ones he used to have back in high school. The ones driving him to be a better player than everyone else at basketball practice, the ones that pushed him to state championship games three of his four years at Hawkins High. The ones that crowned him prom king and made him a bullshit name for a bullshit time in his life.

It’s his inner machinery, and even though he’s grown up a lot in the last five years, he’s still yet to replace some old rusted parts.

As he returns to set, Steve runs his hands through his hair, pinches both cheeks a little to bring a fresh blush back to the surface. His assistant applies lip gloss as he situates himself back on the black and white platform where he’s been fucked for the last three hours by one-hundred-and-ninety-six men.

He’s aiming for three hundred before dinner. Three-fifty if more than a good chunk of the men left are two-pump chumps. It’s about scheduling.

Steve shifts his weight from one asscheek to another, feels a brief twinge in his lower back. He flips over, stomach pressing against the slim pleather cushion.

It’s almost five.

The director claps his hands, and once Steve is in position, everyone resumes their roles. He gets comfortable on his elbows, cock limp between his legs and showing for the camera. He hears the next guy shuffle up behind him, can hear the shaky breath leave him.

Everyone knows their part to play in this circus, and Steve knows his best of all. He’s front and center, surrounded by a seemingly endless line of men of all ages, shapes and sizes. He’s taken more dick and strap today alone than he probably has in the last few years combined.

He’s going to win best actor, and he’s going to win best gangbang.

The thing about sex work is that it’s like any other job, really. There are good days, long days, fun days, days that drive him up the fucking wall. There are times he’s excited, nervous, bored out of his skull. Most shoots he books last a day or two, and hardly ever does one last more than a week, tops. This isn’t his first gangbang scene, but it is a record breaker for him, and several others in the industry as far as he’s researched.

But so far it’s been a lot of the same. Almost two hundred men and he hasn’t held a steady erection since an hour in and now he’s been daydreaming while giving tried and true sultry looks to the camera, fake moans of practiced pleasure leaving his throat.

Steve’s good at his job.

He’s been doing it since his parents cut him off and kicked him out at eighteen. He moved to LA and lived in his car until Robin graduated and followed him to the big city. It was exhilarating at first, fun. These days, at twenty-three, he’s mostly just bored.

And he knows better than to ignore an ache. If he holds one position for too long, he’ll be wrecked for a week. He’s big enough of a name now he can negotiate a lot of his contracts, and so he always gets control over how he’s positioned. The cameras can figure it out from there.

“And…action!”

Steve pouts for the camera in front of him, parts his freshly glossed lips and crosses his eyes a little. He never got the cross-eyed thing, but it’s apparently a huge kink for some.

Fingertips tickle over his ass, lead to palms lightly petting his hips. Steve wiggles for the man he can’t see, encouraging and coaxing as he goes to his knees and leans back. Wants to be grabbed, manhandled. Add the potential for a little healthy bruising and the audience eats it up.

But that doesn’t happen. Instead, he hears a breathy sigh from behind him, and then the sound of spit a second before he feels it hitting his hole. It drips down slowly, painting him wet, and Steve keens for the lens trained on his face.

The thing about this shoot is that it’s been a nightmare to plan. A year to put together a schedule, another six months to find the talent. There’s been cancellations, reschedules, a few deaths even, more casting, issues with health insurance and testing dates. Steve’s been along for it all, because this is his project. His idea, his brainchild.

All for one day.

One day to break some records. Prove to himself he can do this. That what he does can win awards and not only nominations.

After that he can take a very, very long break.

The hand rubs up and down his spine, firm and sure. Applies a little pressure at the lumbar and Steve actually lets out a small moan. It’s nice. He might set up a massage for tomorrow.

The camera swings wide, leaves Steve’s face and gives him some breathing room. The hand on his back remains while the other presses two fingers to his hole. He’s stretched, lubed beyond the meaning of the word even before the spit. There’s no need to finger him open.

But he receives a gentle probing with two fingers, a few deep, slow strokes that press in search with what seems to be a practiced touch. Steve rolls his hips back. Takes a few tries, but when the extra finds his prostate, he gasps, drives back to meet that zing of electricity again and again.

“God, just look at you,” the extra whispers. “Can’t wait to feel you. I’m so lucky.”

Steve moans. Not so fake this time. He drops his head, catches sight of lightly haired thighs covered in scribbly tattoos. He doesn’t even take into account the size of the man behind him, too focused on his own swiftly filling erection.

Huh.

It’s not like it’s a requirement or anything, by contract or personal preference of his scene partners. A lot of the time the bottom isn’t hard. Not exactly fair, but a limp bottom does not a film break, or whatever. More than a few of the men who have been inside him today have paid him plenty of attention, even tried for longer than Steve felt necessary. But they were all here to do a job, and that was to film a gangbang scene with Steve as the gangbangee. Hard or limp, he just wanted them to finish in him so they could get the shot and all go home to a nice hot shower.

“You’re gorgeous, y’know that?”

Though dirty talk was common, it wasn’t in the script for this shoot. And it wasn’t the usual lead-in of fuck yeah, look at your puffy hole, you take it so well, you’re like a bitch in heat, take that shit, take it like a whore.

“That’s it, baby, relax for me.”

It’s sweet…it’s kind. Things a lover would say.

Another strike of lightning burns him from the inside out, and Steve lets out a breath he’d been holding.

The hand at his back glides down, calloused fingers smoothing over his skin, until the director calls for penetration.

Steve wants to snap at him to shut the hell up. This is fine. More than fine, even. His prostate hasn’t exactly been the star of the show today, and a little pleasure makes his job that more enjoyable.

The fingers leave, and in their place frustration grows. That is, until the blunt head of another cock is pressing against him–no, dragging. The man is rubbing himself over Steve’s hole. Isn’t shoving in and taking like all the others.

More spit hits his rim , makes him startle. The hand on his back draws circles to settle him like a spooked horse.

This isn’t lovemaking. This is a scene. Steve huffs at himself, thinks just stick it in already, dude.

The extra’s hands slide from his back to his hip, his other hand joining in and pulling Steve’s weight, using Steve’s own body to slide inside. Steve groans. The guy’s big, thick. Should have paid better attention while he had his head down.

“Knew you could take it, Harrington,” he says softly, and Steve almost misses it when the man whines as he bottoms out. Fingers dig into his sides, tight but not bruising. “Pictured it a little different, but a guy can’t complain.”

So the guy’s got a fantasy, that’s fine. A lot of the talent cast for this production expressed a desire to work with Steve. Came with the territory, and the long filmography.

But something about this man hits him a little different. His words have him melting enough to feel warmth build, begin to spread.

His legs are tingling, insides burning with the stretch and latent pleasure. He wants more.

He grinds his hips back, trying to put his weight into it. The man moans low and finally, finally, starts moving his hips. Drags Steve back on every thrust.

“Jesus, you’re so–so–” Another drawn-out moan and the man collapses along Steve’s back. He’s slim, but his arms are strong as they wind around Steve’s waist. More tattoos. Bats in flight, stretched faces with sharp teeth. Long hair tickles over his shoulder as the man noses along the back of his neck “You feel like a dream.”

It’s quiet. Quiet enough Steve knows the cameras won’t pick it up. It’s just for Steve, and that sends his blood rushing, dick kicking as tension builds in his belly.

“Shit,” he grinds out, feels drool slip from his open mouth to pool on the black pleather underneath. “Oh, God.”

“That’s it. Wanna make you feel good, sweetheart. Come on. You deserve to feel good.”

He’s so hard he’s aching. Feels the weight of himself slap his stomach on each ever harder, deeper thrust.

Steve’s going to come. He’s actually going to come.

“Just knew you’d be so good for me. Could tell the first day I ever saw you. Wanted you forever. And look what you’ve accomplished,” he babbles, Steve’s heart growing three sizes, “You’ve changed the industry. You showed LA who’s king.” A particularly deep thrust has his elbows giving out. The man effortlessly braces his abrupt fall, a calloused hand snaking up to pillow his jaw. Steve is vaguely aware of the camera in front of them both, but he couldn’t care less if he tried right now. It feels too good. Feels better than anything all day, all month, all year. To the cameras, it must look like Steve’s being choked, but it’s the farthest thing from it. He’s being held, kept safe. “Always knew you’d go places. Get everything you wanted and more. I was actually jealous, and look at us now. Can’t believe how lucky I am.”

Steve’s cursing, praying, something as he’s pressed into the pleather. Now, his cock is trapped, facing backward so every time the man draws out and pushes back in, their cocks drag for a brief moment of bliss. The cherry on top. Neat trick.

“Never thought I–never even dreamed–”

A gasp, a flash of teeth in skin and Steve is coming with a shout, flexing his ass to get more, more.

He feels warmth spread hot and wet inside him and knows this will only last another moment or two. He needs to turn around. To see the man that just took him apart without touching his cock. Needs to–

A thumb swipes his lower lip. Breath ghosts along the bite mark on his shoulder. It stings.

Steve hopes he drew blood.

“I’ll remember this forever, sweetheart.”

The director shouts something Steve doesn’t hear. Can’t comprehend past the pleasant hum buzzing inside him.

But then the weight on his back is gone, the cock inside him slips free and with it a spurt of come. Cameras circle back around to catch the aftermath, hears a muttered nice from some crewmember when they see the twin puddle beneath himself.

He rolls his eyes, safe to do with no coverage on his face.

He feels so empty. Cold begins to creep in.

Steve blinks quickly. Why is his throat suddenly so tight?

Then another man approaches, is lifting his hips up, is pushing in with absolutely zero patience or attention paid to Steve at all. And that’s fine. It is.

They’re on a schedule, after all.

“Yippee!” Steve claps when Robin sets the plate of cake before him.

She joins him on the couch, a forkful of her own piece of cake already in her mouth. “I don’t know how you’re even sitting right now.”

“It’s honestly not that bad.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

“Look who’s literally talking.”

Robin pulls her own fork free and sticks her tongue out. “Seriously though, you sure you don’t need anything? A heating pad? Ointment? Therapy?”

“Ha ha. I already took care of what I needed to–stop making that face, oh my God. I’m just dandy, Robs, don’t worry. I want to veg out and watch tv for the next six months and gain like twenty pounds.”

“You are too skinny.”

“My point exactly.”

“But, still like. Wow.”

“I know.”

“Three-hundred sixty-eight guys. Whole ass men were inside you today. That has to be a health issue for the community or something, right? How are your insides not melting out of you right now? I should have laid down a towel to protect your precious piece of shit couch.”

“You’re so funny, and it’s our precious piece of shit couch.” But even so, Steve preens a little. He did it. He broke his goal and then some. “I’m gonna win that goddamn award if it kills me.”

He looks over when she doesn’t answer. Robin is looking down at her plate.

They’ve had this argument before.

“I’m taking a break,” he says, reaching for her hand. She squeezes, and he squeezes back. “Promise.”

Robin nods. “So,” she says, shaking herself from the momentary tension, “you mentioned one guy was unique. I’m almost afraid to ask.”

He snorts. “Why?”

“I mean, was he like eighty or something? Was he dressed all in latex with one of those gas masks? Did he have two dicks or what?”

Steve laughs, drops her hand to grab a pillow, and throws it at her instead.

Then he tells her.

In as much detail as she can handle, anyway.

“Did you get his number?” Robin asks, and frowns when Steve shakes his head no. “What about a name?”

“It was kind of a rush, an in the moment kind of thing. Wasn’t really time for a lot of talking.”

“Oh my God, Steve.”

And then, his best friend in the entire world has an absolutely batshit idea.

He gets the call sheet from his favorite producer, an easy going older man with decades of experience in the industry. He doesn’t ask questions.

Three days later, Steve's got a list of three-hundred-and-sixty-eight names, including himself and the crew. Beneath the call sheet is a packet of numbers and addresses.

It might be a crazy idea…but Steve’s one of the world’s leading gay adult film stars. He can afford to be a little crazy.

So when his sabbatical officially begins, Steve starts calling.

The first thing he tries is going down to number one-ninety-eight. That makes sense, and even Robin had agreed.

But the man who answered was a fifty with a slightly higher voice than he remembers. He quickly thanked Steve for the experience, and the paycheck, but explained he didn’t have any tattoos. He was afraid of needles.

Steve huffs, crossing the name and number off.

His guy was definitely younger than that, had a deep, smooth voice. Had ink that looked homemade from a glance.

The list he has is in no discernible order. It’s neither numerical nor alphabetical. He checks the first few addresses and finds it has nothing to do with location, either.

So he calls each and every single person. Actually blocks out time to do it around breaks and lunch, time spent with Robin which they both agree is long overdue.

After a week and a half of calls, Robin drags him to the beach for an afternoon of sunbathing and people watching.

“I don’t know, Robin. I already crossed off the guys I know, the ones I’ve seen in other projects. But I’ve still got over a hundred people left.”

“Says the guy who wanted to bang over three hundred guys. This is your own fault.”

“I know,” he agrees, swirling his fingers through the sand. “I’m just…I don’t know. Worried, I guess.”

“Why?”

“What if he thinks I’m a freak for tracking him down? What if he wants nothing to do with me?”

Robin snorts. He looks her way, sees her nose and cheeks are red from the sun despite her large sunhat. Her toes are dug into the sand, and the book she’d been reading lays forgotten on her stomach.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Steve. From what you told me, it sounded like he had a little crush.”

“Yeah, but that could have been my filmography talking. Lot of guys say I’m on their shortlist of dream lays. It’s like a fantasy thing for them.”

“Disgusting. Absolutely abhorrent,” she says easily. “But you said your guy was different. You think it was just an act?”

“I couldn’t tell. He seemed…sweet. If that makes sense?” Steve shrugs, hands her the bottle of sunscreen. “You need another layer. You’re turning into a tomato, birdie.”

She cups her hands, and he squeezes a dollop out. As she rubs the lotion into her skin, she seems to consider what he’s said.

“How sweet can an actor in a gangbang be?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Then you have to keep at it. You have to keep calling until you find him. You may strike out more often than not when it comes to dating, but you have, like, a good good people radar.”

“What does that mean?”

“I mean, you naturally attract decent people,” Robin says, smiling. “Take me, for example! I’m the best person you know.”

Heat climbs his face, settling at the tips of his ears. He sinks further into the beach foldout, embarrassed for a reason he can’t name. Robin’s smile turns knowing before softening into something closer to friendly pity.

Robin drops her book in the sand and stands, grabs Steve’s hand and starts pulling him toward the water’s edge.

“Come on, sourpuss, let’s go swim!”

He’s down to five people.

The phone numbers they gave were either disconnected or, more likely, fake. So he has no choice, really.

He decides to fully embrace his apparent new level of creepy stalker and physically visits their listed address.

The first three people are surprised but happy to see him, and he ends up sharing beers with two of them, but all three are very clearly not the person he’s looking for. The fourth is nice enough, if wary, but is in his forties and is trans. Is all too happy to show Steve the strap he used on the day. So that rules him out.

There’s one address left, and honestly Steve had been hoping it was a fluke. A mistake.

Because the address is in Hawkins, Indiana. His hometown.

He never chose a stage name, a mistake that many a producer and actor used to lecture him on in the first couple of years he was in the business. But he made it his own. It worked. His parents haven’t contacted him since he was kicked out, so if they know about his career choice, Steve isn’t aware. He prefers it that way.

He always imagined he’d send them a photo of him smiling with his AVN award when he finally won. A final, brief fuck you and career announcement all in one.

Needless to say he hasn’t been back to Hawkins once since he moved to LA. And though he isn’t shy about his legal name, Steve has never discussed his past, his childhood. Nobody in the industry that is legally allowed to discuss his association with Hawkins never has, because they simply don’t know.

Steve’s honestly a bit surprised nobody he used to know has reached out in the last five years. He knows Tommy at least frequented the sites his agency posts to. Nowadays, gay and straight films can be found in the same tags, same pages. Even if someone didn’t go looking for gay porn, they still might have come across Steve in something. An ad, even.

But no, nothing.

He’s not ashamed of what he does. He hasn’t actively avoided his past or anything. If anything, he’s simply strived to not care about it. It doesn’t matter. He hasn’t seen a Hawkins address in years.

Until now.

It’s weird. Could be some kind of underhanded prank. Maybe he should call his lawyer and tell him to expect some sort of blackmail soon.

The last four have led him to the neighboring cities around Los Angeles, but he’s not had to leave California yet. And being back in Indiana has him off his feet. Wrongfooted in some small way that leaves him feeling like a stranger. An impersonator.

He left small town life behind and made it big in a way that would have had every gossiping homebody’s heads turning if they knew.

Half expects to burst into flame the second he steps foot within city bounds.

But nothing happens. His rental car keeps driving. The turn off the highway is familiar, second nature.

He pulls into Hawkins and follows the directions parroted to him by his GPS. He notices several new fast-food places, the old mall has been redone, some houses seem bigger–but it’s still the same small, old town.

He comes to a crossroads. Left to Forest Hills Trailer Park where he’s never been, or right to what would eventually lead to Loch Nora and his childhood home.

He takes a left.

The trailer park isn’t huge, but each home has a small yard. He drives through a winding road that’s half gravel until he finds number fifty-three.

He parks, gets out and stands. Butterflies swarm his stomach, his palms sweating.

Steve gives himself a silent pep talk and walks up the short drive to the front door.

He knocks twice and waits.

It’s getting colder in Indiana. A few more weeks and there might be the first fall of snow. Back in California it was eighty-six degrees when he boarded the plane. He shivers.

Steve jumps a little when the door opens, the screen between him and an older man who frowns down at him.

“And who are you?”

“Hi! Hello. My name is Steve. I, um. Is there a Wayne Munson here by any chance?”

Steve steadies himself, tries to calm his rising nerves. He steps back to make room as the man opens the screen door and steps out into the early afternoon light.

“That would be me, son. Can I help you? You look a little lost.”

It’s not him.

Not his guy.

Steve’s stomach drops. Feels a little sick to his stomach.

The voice isn’t the same. It’s low, sure, but rougher with age. And Steve remembers the tickle of long hair along his skin. This man, Wayne Munson, is balding.

Unless he wore a wig…then, maybe…

He rechecks that this trailer is indeed number fifty-three.

“No, I uh. This is the place. This is going to sound strange, but I don’t suppose you have any tattoos?”

Wayne huffs. He pulls up his sleeve and shows Steve a faded old tattoo, a blue cross with blown out edges.

“Just the one.”

Steve nods, disheartened. “I see. Okay. I, uh, thanks for your time. I’ll just go–”

He turns, feeling foolish.

“Kid, wait a minute. Come on inside and warm up. You drink coffee?”

Steve debates. He’s cold, sure, but that’s an issue fixed by turning around and driving back to the airport to hop on a plane back to California.

Staying could turn out badly. Hawkins was never friendly to outsiders, and the rumor mill sprinted when it came to talk of things like sin and violating the good word of the Lord.

Steve’s pretty sure being a porn star is hidden somewhere in there.

And it was never a secret in backwoods like these people tended to dole out their own justice. Some kids were killed in Indy for being gay and working corners. Why not here, in the home of a man Steve doesn’t know?

He puts on his best smile. “That would be great, sir.”

The man drops his eyes to the ground, waves a hand at him. “Please, enough of that. I’m just Wayne. Always have been, always will be. Come on in, it’s not getting any warmer out here.”

Steve shuffles inside, thanking him. “Looks ready to snow soon.”

“Ah, another week or two I think. You from around here?”

“Used to be,” Steve says as Wayne gestures for him to sit on a stool at the kitchen counter. “I moved to California a few years back.”

“Hm.” Wayne starts a fresh pot of coffee, old-fashioned kettle on the stove. Steve’s grown used to his Keurig. “Big place compared to here. How d’you like it?”

“It’s busy. I’ve gotten used to it.”

“I imagine there’s always something for doing.”

Steve nods. “You’re right.”

“What d’you do for work out there? I’ve heard it’s all tech companies and wannabe actors.”

Steve runs a hand through his hair. “Well, actually…I’m an actor.”

“Ah, geez. Don’t mind me, it’s the stereotype.”

“No offense taken,” Steve says. “It’s kind of the reason I’m here.”

“Do tell.”

“It’s kind of embarrassing. I had this big, uh. Film. Scene. A big scene. It required a lot of background actors. Extras, you know?” Wayne nods. Steve is flubbing this big time, Christ. “I kind of hit it off with one of the–one of them. Fell a little in love if I’m being honest. My best friend, she had this crazy idea to get the call sheet and go down the list to see if I could find him.”

Wayne’s eyes go a little wide and it’s only when the kettle starts whistling that Steve realizes his slip up.

But Wayne beats him to it. He takes the kettle off the burner and starts fixing two cups of coffee. Says, “Young love’s hard to come by, kid. I’ve been telling my boy for years now, if ya find somebody worth chasing, you run. Doesn’t matter the obstacles, if they’re a boy or girl. Just run to em.”

“That’s…that’s really good advice,” Steve mutters, surprised and relieved when Wayne doesn’t seem to have a problem with him. “Means a lot, being from here.”

“Me, I’m from back south, but Hawkins is home. Strange as it is to hear, this town’s actually progressive compared to where I grew up. But there’s still work to do, that’s for damn sure.”

Wayne reaches into a cabinet and brings down a bottle of liquor Steve recognizes all too well. Good quality bourbon. Steve doesn’t miss the healthy pour that goes into each mug.

“Good for warmin’ up,” Wayne says as he passes one mug to Steve. He goes for the fridge next and pulls out a half eaten chocolate cake. “You fancy a piece? My boy whipped it up, but I told him like hell he expects me to finish it on my own.”

“Oh, I don’t want to take up your time–”

“You’d be doing me a favor,” Wayne cuts in, smiling in a way his parents never did. Kind, warm. Real.

Steve relaxes the rest of the way, the tension leaving him all at once. Wayne Munson’s a good guy.

“I’d love one.”

“...and I told my boy, I said, if music is what you wanna do, you go and do it. Convinced him to get his GED and get out of dodge. School was never much of a Munson family pastime, anyway.”

“God, yeah. I hated school. I barely graduated, and that was still a few months after I got kicked out.”

Wayne shakes his head, takes a sip of his beer. They’re sitting on the front porch, watching the sun begin its slow descent. Steve almost forgot how pretty Indiana skies could be.

“I knew your folks, y’know. Back in high school. Forgive me for saying it, but your father was a real piece of work.”

Steve can’t help the bitter sound that leaves him. “Trust me, I know.”

“Can’t stand a parent dumping their kid on the world like that. More like dumping the world on their kid. Real life is tough shit. If you love your children, you don’t just abandon them to figure it out for themselves.”

Steve hums. Takes a chance. “It sounds like you’re talking from experience?”

Wayne scowls out into the distance. “It was just me and Al for a long time. Our parents weren’t around much, and when they were they weren’t the best. We all did what we could.” He shakes his head again, meets Steve’s eyes. “Just a shame Al turned out exactly like our old man. Couldn’t spot respectable if it bit him on the balls.”

Steve laughs again.

Wayne lifts his beer and points out to the gravel road. “‘Bout time!”

Steve looks out and watches an old beat-up van wind down the road, music getting louder the closer it gets.

“You’ve got company! You should have said. You’ve been so kind, I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Wayne tells him good-naturedly. “That’s just my boy. Owes me dinner since I’ve cooked the last few.” Adds when the van is parking behind Steve’s rental, “You should stick around for supper. He makes a mean lasagna.”

“I really should…”

Then Steve sees him.

Wayne’s boy, who he’d assumed at first was his son but learned was the nephew he took in after his brother fucked up somewhere along the way.

Steve’s throat goes dry.

The music cuts off as the van door opens and out hops a man with wild black curls tied up into a mess of a bun. He’s not even looking their way as he hip checks the door closed and walks back to the double doors. He swings them open, grabs a duffle, many bags of groceries baring the local Krogers logo, and a large glass casserole dish that looks far too fragile to be balancing the way it is. Before he closes the doors again, a large orange tabby hops out and winds around his legs, rubbing and trotting after its owner as he heads up the drive.

“Sorry I’m late, old man. Store was packed, and then Garfield here didn’t want to…Oh.”

He slows when he sees his uncle has company. Stops completely when his eyes land on Steve.

The guy’s young, could be a few years on either side of Steve’s age. He’s wearing all black denim, complete with chains and large belt buckle. His knuckles are tattooed and Steve wonders where else he has them.

And he’s familiar is the thing.

And isn’t that funny?

Because back in school. Steve would play reckless and brash. He’d skip school, get in plenty of fights he always lost. Made friends with the wrong crowd and got into enough trouble. And he would wonder, in the way only a closeted bisexual boy could in the Midwestern US, what it would be like to run away with someone a little older, a little rougher, a little more mean. Someone who knew more about the world. Who didn’t give a shit about kid stuff like Steve used to, like reputation and dating and getting into girls’ pants as much as possible. On being the best all-American athlete he could so others would think, wow, that Steve Harrington sure is going places.

He would wonder, in profound secrecy and silence and repression, what it would be like to kiss someone like the man stood before him under the shade of a tall tree in the woods behind his house. What it might be like to touch another boy and not have to be afraid to death of the idea.

The large cat, Garfield, rubs up along Steve’s legs then. Walks a figure eight between them and yowls to be paid attention to. Steve reaches down to pet between his ears, is vaguely aware of the two other men talking to one another, of Wayne explaining why Steve is here, who Steve even is.

And Steve knows this guy. He does.

He’s got long hair. Tattoos, maybe more hidden away. Has plush lips and flushed cheeks from standing in the cold with arms weighed down by too many things, and, and–

“You’re–”

“I’m Steve,” Steve says, straightens back up and holds out his hand. “Steve Harrington.”

The other man gawks. A bag slips from his fingers and a tub of cream cheese goes rolling right back down the small incline.

“Jesus, boy,” Wayne’s muttering, walking down to help with the groceries. He grabs the serving dish first, then heads for the runaway cream cheese. “Where’d your manners go? Introduce yourself!”

Wayne grumbles as he heads after the thing.

Steve’s hand is grasped, shaken, held. Steve smiles. Wants to roll up the long sleeves to see if he’s covered in the bats he saw during filming.

“I’m Eddie,” Eddie says, breathes really.

And oh wow. Wow.

Steve doesn’t let go, and neither does Eddie.

“I heard you make a mean lasagna.”

A smile splits Eddie’s pretty mouth. “That so? I wonder who said that.”

“Somebody who loves his nephew a whole lot.”

“Huh, no idea. Could you clue me in?”

Steve steps closer. “Think a little harder? Maybe you forgot.”

“Maybe,” Eddie says, and though it’s soft, it’s undeniable. “Always forgetting things, that’s me.”

It’s him.

Wayne passes them by again, taking another bag from Eddie’s hands. Eddie sets the rest down at their feet, sparkling, dark eyes never leaving Steve’s.

“Steve here’s an actor. Eddie, weren’t you telling me you had a gig down in LA with the band a few weeks back? What a coincidence, that.” He keeps walking.

Steve watches him go inside, Garfield hopping happily after him.

When he turns back around, Eddie’s close enough he can feel his breath.

Steve glances at his lips. Sees them bend with amusement.

“It’s funny.”

“What is?”

“King Steve, here in my uncle’s humble abode. What a surprise.”

King Steve is as close a moniker he’s ever received working in the industry. An irony that’s followed him from high school into adulthood, even though the two weren’t connected.

And something inside Steve breaks apart, blooms, shines.

It’s him.

Eddie reaches up, traces a thumb along his bottom lip.

“I think we’ve met.”

“I think you’re right.”

“Care to stay for some homemade cooking, your liege? I think we have a lot to talk about.”

The thumb at his lip dips, goes inside his mouth, briefly makes contact with Steve’s tongue. He wants to suck on it, wants to do a whole lot more.

“We definitely do.”

Eddie’s hand falls away. He picks up a few bags and lets Steve take the others.

And as Steve follows Eddie Munson, his mystery guy, inside it hits him all at once. A punch to the solar plexus.

Just knew you’d be so good for me. Could tell the first day I ever saw you.

He knows him.

You showed LA who’s king.

Not just from the shoot.

“Oh my God, I know you! We know each other!”

Eddie Munson, the guy who walked over lunch tables and caused a scene. The guy Tommy shoved into lockers. The guy who dealt at every party. The guy who wore denim and leather and was in a band. The guy Steve watched, who watched him right back.

Wanted you forever.

I was actually jealous, and look at us now.

Can’t believe how lucky I am.

I’ll remember this forever, sweetheart.

And Steve hurries in after him as Eddie’s knowing, familiar laughter leads the way.

#steddie #steddieedit #steve x eddie #steve/eddie #boltedfruit fic #ficlet #one shot fic #one shot #steddie fic

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