#the weight of seeing each other again in a FUCKING MCDONALDS

[sylvies-kablooie]

episode 6 hits just as hard two years later.

i still haven't moved beyond sylvie's desperate why aren't we seeing this the same way? the realizing between them, so sudden and visceral, that this wasn't going to work out; that the mission came first for sylvie- after seeing the man who ruined her life, in her eyes, loki's hesitancy was treason, but that sorrow in the line, why? why can't we agree? the low below-the-belt punches in her "do it, kill me and take your throne"; she's spitting venom, she doesn't believe it in the slightest, she just wants him to stop, to agree with her, to tell her that it was worth it, all of her suffering she survived to get here, to set the rest of the universe free, but he won't. loki won't say what she needs to hear. the way they both cry when he begs her to think, to stop, take a minute. the way her blade catches the crook of his neck and he tosses his to the side to get her to listen, at the risk of his life, just to get her to listen, please. the way he pleads. the way she leans in to kiss him as if surrendering and how the moment holds in the air but she can't give up after so long. how she gently shoves him away with her fingertips despite his begging, the most sincere moment in his life and he is rejected. and then how she tosses hwr's desk away the minutes loki's gone, how she stabs he who remains, she snarls and asks him aren't you going to beg for your life. she locks eyes with him as she plunges the sword in and watches him bleed out. and before he's even dead she falls to the floor, the weight of what she did setting in, the lack of relief she'd always imagined she'd feel horrific. the terrifying loneliness hitting right at the moment, too heavy to even keep her legs supported. the terrifying loneliness loki feels from the other side of the universe, maybe the only thing coming close to matching.

like. yeah it's gonna haunt me forever.

#this is a big ramble but i can't believe how engrossing it still is after seeing it so many times #how i still caught my breath #if anything it's grown better #i just. cannot wait to see them again. #i hope the writers won't let us down #the weight of seeing each other again in a FUCKING MCDONALDS #is going to make me collapse #they were doomed by the narrative #there's a tiny part of me that loves the finale so much i almost wish it ended there #loki tv show #sylvie #sylvie laufeydottir #loki tv #loki series #loki s2 #sylki #pro sylki #loki show #loki #anything for sylvie #loki x sylvie #juni analysis

[partypoisonzz]

letters and sodas (90s!trey parker x fem!reader)

Part One of the FWB-verse series

Content:

- friends with benefits/rebound messiness

- dry humping

- praise kink

- marking

Word Count: 5,189

Disclaimer: This explicit story was written by an adult for consumption by other adults only. If you are under 18, please do not read or interact in any way.

-

You stand out in the hallway, a warm paper bag clutched tightly in one hand as you knock with the other. You inhale the scent of the warm French fries, worrying that Trey won't even come to the door. 

Of course, you know that he's in there. He hasn't been anywhere else except for a handful of his classes all week. That isn't to say, however, that he'll answer. Ever since the incident, he's been effectively isolating himself, not seeming to want to see anybody. You can't really blame him for that, — the whole thing is majorly fucked, — but you're worried, for fuck's sake. Lots of people are, whether he thinks so or not.

The few times you've seen him, he was visibly a wreck. Despite looking like he had just rolled out of bed, he was obviously exhausted, his eyes in a perpetual state of puffiness and ringed by dark circles. He didn't seem to be putting any effort into taming his hair or shaving his face, which resulted in him looking sort of homeless. Then there was the fact that his clothes just seemed to be looking looser and looser, which raised your alarm bells more than anything. 

Your concern deepened when Jason paid him a visit earlier on in the week, only to shake his head and sigh when he reported back to the rest of you. 

"Jackass isn't eating anything," he informed you, Matt, and Dian as you scarfed down your respective shitty cafeteria dinners. "He's living off fucking SlimFast. That's all. No wonder he looks like a coke addict all of the sudden." 

Deeply concerned by these new developments, the four of you worked out a plan to keep tabs on him without him immediately chasing you off. You decided that all of you would alternate dropping by his dorm throughout the week, but never together and never with an established plan in place. That way, it wouldn't look rehearsed, — because it wasn't, — and would illustrate your genuine concern in a manner that didn't seem forced… because it wasn't. Each of you would approach the situation using whatever method seemed fit at the moment. 

When you left your final class for the afternoon, you decided that the appropriate method for the day would be to bring him food. The thought of him, holed up in his dorm and depressed, choking down weight loss shake after weight loss shake, made your heart sink. He needed something substantial. Maybe not healthy, but something he could chew and swallow. 

So you went to McDonald's and ordered a couple of combo meals. It wasn't gourmet cuisine, but it was affordable. It was the same junk that you ate together back when things were okay. The image of a bunch of high, giggling college kids piling into a booth and decimating a couple baskets of fries reminded you of simpler times… Those being, the times before Trey walked in on his fiancee in a state of post coital bliss with another guy and consequently started spiraling. 

You ruminated on the reasoning for all of it as you drove back to campus, digging into your bag to angrily chomp on a fry every now and again. As much as imagining him getting married put a lump in your throat and a pit in your stomach, you weren't selfish enough to take delight in his current situation. It burned you up, really.

Trey had been the type of boyfriend and fiance that made people envious of Liane, and she fucking cheated on him. If she hadn't gotten caught, she would have kept dragging it out, all the way to the altar. She would have continued after the wedding that was going to empty their pockets, and he would have been none the wiser. Now he was fucking starving himself with graduation fast approaching, and your blood pressure was going through the fucking roof even though it technically wasn't really your problem… And your fries were already gone by the time you pulled into your parking space. Great. 

You're hoping to God that he opens the door before you can start eating his fries. Luckily, not long after this thought crosses your mind, the door swings open, only to reveal an impressively-disheveled Trey. 

He looks from your face to the brown paper bag and back again before clearing his throat. "Come in."

He doesn't have to ask you twice. You nudge the door closed behind you and reach for the lock. "I brought you dinner," you tell him as you sit your drinks down. "It's nothing special. Just a Big Mac. But I thought…"

You freeze as he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into him. You are infinitely grateful that your face is being crushed into the fabric of his shirt. Otherwise, he would see that you're turning bright fucking red. 

"Thanks," he mutters, still holding onto you. He seems to be in no rush to let you go. You lean into him, soaking up the feeling of his arms around you in a way that you can totally pretend was possessive when you're letting your imagination run wild in bed tonight. 

After a while, however, you feel the need to speak up, knowing that you're still holding a bag full of McDonald's in your hand. "Trey," you speak up. "The food…" 

"Right. Sorry." He gives your waist a slight squeeze before releasing you from his grip. 

You force a smile onto your face as you take the sight of him in. He just looks so fucking tired.  

Still, you ask him the dreaded question as you take a seat on the floor: "How's it been going?" 

He doesn't hesitate to respond. "Fucking terrible," he says, rifling around in the bag for his burger. "I wish I was dead, honestly."

You frown as you reach for your own food. "She isn't worth all that," you mutter quietly. 

He laughs humorlessly. "As much as I appreciate the sentiment, I was going to marry that woman." He takes a needlessly-aggressive bite out of his burger before pulling back. "Forgive me for being a little torn up about my fiancee cheating on me." 

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. The bitchiness is nothing new. The situation itself is a bit harder to deal with. "You know I didn't mean it like that," you say. 

"Yeah. I know." He looks away from the burger that he's devouring like the starved man that he is to fix you with wide blue eyes. You do your best to keep your face from bursting into flames again. 

He sighs, reaching for one of the brown paper napkins in the bag. "Sorry for being an asshole," he concedes. "I know it's not an excuse, but I've kind of forgotten how to interact with other people over the past week." 

"It's fine." You take a sip of your soda before pulling back. "I've just been worried about you." 

You don't miss the change in expression that this confession provokes. His eyes flash with something soft. Guilt? Relief? 

"I wish I could say that you don't have to," he finally says. "But, well… All you have to do is look around to see that I'm a fucking wreck."

"Anybody would be," you tell him. 

There's another pause. If the two of you were talking about literally anything else, it would probably be comfortable. You've always been the type of friends who could just do things together and not talk. His company was enough to put you at ease, and vice versa. 

But now you're looking at the shadows under his eyes and the scruff on his face, the pure dejection in his expression, and the silence feels like things that you should be saying but can't conjure into acceptable words. You worry that you'll be sitting across from each other all night, plastic straws squeaking and tension palpable. 

It gets to the point when you're itching to say something just to say it. So, without even worrying that it's the wrong thing, you do.

"I've missed you," you confess quietly.

He gives you that look again. You always feel like he doesn't just look at you, — he looks through you, searching for something. You don't know if he's found what he was looking for as he balls up the paper wrapper that his burger came with and tosses it at the trashcan. Somehow, it lands where he intended it to. 

He turns back to you and tries to smile. Though he still looks like a recently-kicked puppy, it seems a bit more genuine this time. "I missed you, too." 

Stupid as it is, your heart sinks as he stands up, leaving you sitting on the floor with your legs tucked under you. You watch as he takes a seat on the unmade double bed in the corner and settles back against the pillows. You wonder for a moment if this is some sort of silent dismissal, a wordless plea for you to go home and leave him the fuck alone to grieve, but then…

"Wanna come sit?" he beckons you. 

Okay, fuck. You have got to stop turning bright red every time he says something that could be construed as being mildly suggestive, but there's something about the fact that he wants you in his bed…

You need to get a hold of yourself. 

"Sure." You feign nonchalance as you discard the trash from your own dinner and walk towards the bed. 

The mattress squeaks, settling beneath you. There isn't much space between Trey and the wall, but he shifts to accommodate you, anyway. 

"Thanks," you mumble. He hums an acknowledgement before the two of you settle into silence.

No background music, no television. Just the two of you, silently soaking up one another's company. 

It's not as awkward as it was before, because you know that he genuinely wants you here. You feel even more sure of this when he stretches as an excuse to loop his arm around you. You take this as an invitation to lean into him, resting your head against his shoulder. 

The closeness is nice. You breathe in the scent of his laundry detergent and body wash, — he's still been showering while in this sorry state, thank God, — and wait for him to speak. 

After a while, he does. "I haven't just been laying around, you know," he tells you. "I'm scripting something for this trailer project I have coming up." 

"Yeah?" You shift, looking up at him. "Care to elaborate, or am I just gonna have to be surprised?" 

"It's a musical, actually." You try to conceal your surprise as he brushes a loose strand of hair from in front of your face, then continues running his fingers through the strands, and… He's just playing with your hair while he talks to you. Alright, then. "About all the stuff that happened with Alferd Packer. I'm thinking that if I can get Matt and Dian in on it, it could be fairly decent…" 

"That's gonna be your big comeback project?" you ask. "Eating your friends?" 

He laughs. "How do you know I'm casting myself as the lead?" 

"Because I know you," you reply easily. "Plus, you're like… made to play Alferd Packer." You cast him a mischievous grin. "You've got those crazy eyes…"

He huffs out a chuckle. "You're so nice to me." His hand stays in your hair, working out the tangles that you sustained while driving back to campus with the windows down. "Wanna hear the best part?" 

"Of course."

You can hear the smile in his voice as he continues. "So, there's this horse…" he starts. "Named Liane. She's the type to let everyone ride her, you know…"

"So that's how you're dealing with it?" you ask. "Creating a slutty horse character and naming it after her?" 

"That's one of the ways," he replies with a shrug. 

Against your better judgment, you cast your gaze to his other arm, which is now looped around your waist as though it were the most natural thing in the world. "Is this another?"

His face goes bright pink as he unthreads his fingers from your hair. You regret saying anything for a moment, worrying that he'll pull away. Somehow, he doesn't. "I guess?" he says instead. "I mean, it's kinda nice, having someone care so much…" 

You lean further back into him. "It is nice," you admit. "I kinda figured you were touch-starved, anyway. You've been all over me since I walked in…"

"Sue me for being excited to see one of my best friends." He wraps his arm back around you, pulling you closer to him. "You were like some sort of guardian angel, showing up with dinner…"

You attempt to swat at him, which isn't a very successful effort, considering he's got you in a rather-sturdy grip. "I bought you McDonald's," you say. "You shouldn't be so easy."

"That was what I needed tonight." He glances down at you, offering you a smile that is so much gentler than the one you usually get. The kind of smile that confronts you with the disconcerting realization that, unlike most of your exchanges up until this point, this isn't a joke. " You were what I needed tonight."

The sentiment surprises you enough to look up and meet his eyes, startling when you find that he was already looking down at you. You hold his gaze for a moment, wondering when one of you will break away and laugh it off. 

But neither of you ever do.

You just get closer and closer, slowly but surely. You keep testing the limits. Trey rests his hand against the side of your face. For a while, he just holds you there, looking into your eyes. You wait patiently, just in case he changes his mind. The warmth in the pit of your stomach spreads from the way that he's looking at you. Like he doesn't believe he should get the opportunity to even touch you, let alone...

You lose your train of thought as he suddenly presses his lips to yours. 

Your eyes stay wide open for a moment, in total shock that this is actually happening. Once your surprise wears off, however, you close your eyes and relax into his touch. He kisses you slowly, tenderly, as though he's trying to commit the moment to memory. Like he wants to preserve the feeling of your mouth on his, your hands on the back of his neck, every first touch the two of you are sharing right now. 

You moan as his tongue brushes over yours, reaching up to tangle your fingers in his hair. He gasps into your mouth as you tug on the strands, deepening the kiss even more in response to your slight tugging. 

Okay. He likes having his hair pulled. Noted. 

His mouth wanders from your lips to your jaw before trailing down further down. You lean back in satisfaction as he presses long, insistent kisses against the side of your neck. 

"Marking me up, huh?" you manage to ask breathlessly.

"Mmm-hmm." Sharp teeth scrape lightly over a fresh bruise, inspiring a gasp from you.

You throw your head back, exposing even more of your neck to him. He promptly takes the opportunity to attack every inch of the skin available.

You draw in a shaky breath. Your hands wander aimlessly across his body as he explores your neck with his mouth. "You want everybody to see, don't you?" you ask quietly. "Want them to look at me and know that you've been here?" 

He gives another affirmative hum. Only this time, it turns into a whine.

You've obviously done something there. It's hard for you to bite back the sly grin threatening to surface. "You like that?" you question. "You want everybody to know how good you are for me?" 

He halts his kisses, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he lets out an unmistakable moan.

Satisfaction consumes you. 

Oh, yeah. This is going to be fun .

"Yeah? That's good, isn't it?" Your hands travel over his back ever-so-gently, tracing circles that might be soothing in any other circumstance. "You wanna be my good boy?" 

Another whimper passes his lips as you shift against him, pressing your hips into his just slightly. "Fuck. Please."

You giggle. "Please, huh?" Abruptly, you pull away from him. He stares at you breathlessly, taking in your mussed hair and the way that you're looking back at him, eyes on fire.

His own eyes go wider as you swing your leg across his lap and straddle him. He lets out a groan as you wiggle a bit in a mock attempt to make yourself comfortable. You are immensely pleased when one of his hands wraps around your hip.

"It's a little hot in here," you comment, reaching down to tug at the hem of your T-shirt. You quickly tug the garment over your head before tossing it haphazardly to the side. 

You giggle when you look down at him, only to find him staring back up at you with a look of utter awe. 

You grin before cupping his face, pulling him in close again. "That's better." Your lips brush over his in a quick peck, followed shortly thereafter by another. When you pull back, you give him a demand. "Touch me."

His eyes are wild as he looks up at you. "Touch you where?"

You chuckle. "Wherever you want."

"Shit." Almost as soon as the words leave your mouth, he's kissing you hard again, fingers clumsily grasping to touch every inch of skin that he possibly can. Finally, he settles on a particular spot, sighing against your lips as he clumsily gropes you through your bra.

You let out a contented sigh as he kneads at you desperately. You are reminded in the fondest way possible of the movie theater shenanigans you got up to with your suitors a few years ago, — clumsy, but so passionate that it makes up for it. 

Still, you can't help trying to spur him just a bit further. You nudge him slightly, signaling for him to let you sit up before reaching for the hook on your bra. "Wanna see more?" 

Though the question is clearly rhetorical, he gives you a fervent nod, watching intently as you unclasp the article. 

You smile at him as he stares at you with that same awed expression on his face, only magnified this time. "Well?"

Blue eyes alight, he shifts restlessly beneath you. "Fuck," he curses. "C'mere." 

He wastes no time before pulling you closer to him. He plants small nips and kisses from your collarbone to your chest, trailing down until his mouth lands on your bare breast. 

For the first time since all this started, you momentarily lose your composure. You toss your head back as your fingers tangle in his hair again. "Oh, fuck. Such a good boy." 

The noise he lets out results in a vibration against your sensitive skin, inspiring another mewl from you that totally betrays your control over the situation.

His mouth travels over your skin, leaving behind warm, wet kisses. Every now and then, he stops and sucks, leaving behind yet another mark that is sure to bruise later. You maintain your grip on his hair, reveling in the feeling of his lips against you.

You squirm in his lap as his mouth travels back up your body, stopping just above your collarbone. He groans against you, tightening his grip on your waist. 

Deep down, you know that you already have him exactly where you want him. Still, you pause for a moment before rocking your hips against him again, — slow, teasing. 

Your heartbeat picks up speed as he makes another choked sound before rolling his hips up against yours. "Please," he whimpers. 

Your only reply is a quiet chuckle as you push yourself against him with less hesitance this time. He lets out a breathy gasp at the feeling of you pressing against him before returning his attention to your neck. 

It takes you a bit to find a rhythm. Impromptu dry humping sessions aren't exactly a regular thing for you, and your uncertainty about how to position your legs makes you feel a little awkward. After a while, though, things start to come more naturally, allowing you to grind down against him at a steady pace. 

A satisfied moan escapes your lips when you feel his hard cock pressing against you through his jeans. He pulls away from your neck with a hiss as you deliberately rub against the area that you know will be the most sensitive. You bite your lip as you roll your hips. Your head spins, knowing that, if it weren't for a couple layers of fabric, you could lower yourself onto him and erase any distance between the two of you. 

Another choked, high-pitched noise meets your ears. You look down at him through heavy-lidded eyes. 

Your heart skips a beat as you take in the absolute sight underneath you. 

Trey has his head thrown back, his eyes screwed shut. His lip is caught between his teeth as he digs his fingers into the sheets. He opens his eyes when he feels you stop your movements. 

Your stomach flips. You swear that you've never had anyone look at you the way that he is now. 

Though you've never considered yourself a greedy person in the past, you're beginning to reevaluate that judgment. Two hours ago, the thought of him, hard underneath you and looking up at you like this, would have seemed like the ultimate fever dream, nothing more than something to imagine when you were getting yourself off. 

Now that it's actually happening, all you can think is that you want more. More of this. More of him. You would do this every night if you could. 

Of course, you can't. A sick feeling gnaws at the depths of your stomach, telling you that he'll probably consider this a mistake once it's all over. In the long run, this moment will probably be nothing more than a messy, opportunistic rebound in his eyes.

That's why you ought to make this time count. 

You reach for one of his hands, untangling his fingers from the sheets as you thread them through your own. You guide his palm back up to your chest. He groans, bucking up against you as he goes back to clumsily grabbing at you like your horny high school boyfriends. 

When his eyelids begin to flutter, you speak up. "Look at me," you demand, voice hoarse with utter want. 

To your shock and delight, he immediately complies. 

You stay still for a moment, staring into lust-clouded pools of deep blue, before beginning to slowly roll your hips again. 

As soon as you hear the muffled whimper that your movement elicits from Trey, you give up on maintaining eye contact. Instead, you crush your lips against his again, reveling in the thrill of having him fucking moan into your mouth. His hands wander from your tits to your ass and back up again, exploring every bit of you that he can possibly touch without either of you shedding your jeans. 

Your head spins at the thought of how real this is as his tongue brushes over yours and his thumb rubs over your hip. It's dizzying to think that you're as new to him as he is to you. For all the times that you've gone to dinner or done your homework together, gotten drunk and/or high in this very dorm room, playfully pushed one another around and made each other laugh until your ribs were sore, you've never done this. You had never known what his hands felt like, hungrily roaming over your bare skin. He's never gripped you like this, marveling at how perfect your figure had been under your loose-fitting shirts this whole time. 

His hands tighten around your waist as he comes up for air and you pick up your pace. The combination of the friction of denim against denim and the noises that he's making have left you soaking wet, inspiring you to release a few moans of your own as you move against him.

You melt into the warmth of blissful pleasure as his whimpers grow louder. As you throw your head back with a debauched moan, Trey looks up at you with pleading eyes. 

You can't find it in you to worry about the aftermath of this anymore. At this point, you're just working towards your release. You are fixated on the idea that you're so close to falling apart on top of him, that this is all real. The thought itself gives you a heady rush, which doesn't subside when you hear him let out a particularly desperate whine. 

The sound causes you to look down at him, only to find him looking back at you like you're the only thing keeping him alive. The word reverence crosses your mind as he opens his mouth. 

"I'm… Fuck, " he stumbles over himself. "I'm getting really fucking close. Can I…" 

He lets out a squeak of surprise as you dig your nails into his shoulders through his shirt. 

"Good boy," you coo, pressing your hips harder against his. "My good boy… Fucking come for me, that's it…" 

Something between your encouragement and the quick rhythm of your grinding causes him to lose control quicker. He gasps. "Baby…" he murmurs before burying his face in your neck and stilling underneath you, releasing a long, trembling moan. He melts into a shaking mess as he rides out his release with you on top of him, slightly shifting your hips until his tremors die down.

At that point, you go still on top of him. To your surprise, he shifts beneath you, straightening his posture before pulling you onto his thigh. 

"Come on, keep going," he urges you. "Wanna see you come. Come on, please."

It doesn't take you long to reach your peak with his hands against your waist and the warmth of him pressed between your legs. With a broken moan, you collapse into his arms, trembling in his grip. 

He lets out a quiet sound of awe as you shake until you eventually relax. 

Once your pulse and breathing begin to level out, you note the feeling of his hands still on your hips, thumbs rubbing gentle circles against your skin as he speaks softly to you.

"There you go," he says, still slightly breathless. "So pretty…" 

You only manage a sigh of acknowledgement as you rest your head against his chest. 

You lie there for a few moments, allowing one another's body heat to ground the both of you. 

As you predicted earlier, your mind begins to swim with worry. You wonder what will come after this, how awkward it will get, if he'll ever even want to talk about it again. Hell, you're waiting for him to kick you out as soon as the endorphins wear off and he realizes that the two of you just pretty much fucked less than two weeks after his engagement imploded. 

For now, though, he's holding you and playing with your hair again, fingers trailing over your back after running through the strands. 

Your eyes grow heavy as you fleetingly think that this is almost as good as what you just did, — the intimacy that comes in the afterglow. It's sickeningly on brand for you, — this greed, this aching desire for more. You didn't even take your pants off, and you're already worrying that no one else will ever make you feel like he did.

You guess that's what happens when you fuck around with the friend you've been in love with forever.

Trey's fingers still before he nudges you. "Hey," he says softly.

"Hmm?" you hum, dreading whatever it is he might say. 

He pats your back gently. "Can you get up for a second?" he asks. "I should probably, uh… Go clean up."

You nod, trying to act like this awkward dismissal doesn't make you want to punch yourself in the teeth. "Yeah. Go ahead." You sit up, swinging your legs over the side of the bed and reaching for your discarded bra and T-shirt.

You're surprised by the feeling of his fingers threading through yours again when you begin to stand up. "You don't have to leave," he says. The hint of desperation in his voice takes you aback. "I mean, you can stay a little bit longer, if you want." 

You turn back at him, taking in his pink-tinged face. You shift uncomfortably against the bed, cringing at the wet fabric between your thighs. "I at least need to go get a change of clothes…" 

He shakes his head. "I've got some you can borrow," he says. "There's an extra toothbrush under the cabinet, too."

You blink at him. "You want me to stay the night?"

His blush deepens as he shrugs. "I mean… I don't see why not."

You can see why not. Couples spend the night at each other's places, wearing one another's clothes. The two of you don't exactly fit that bill.

Then again, you just made each other come. You're pretty sure wearing his clothes and sleeping in his dorm isn't the most glaring boundary that you've overstepped. Besides, a few more hours of confusing closeness is preferable to returning to your own dorm and worrying that he hates you now.

So you nod and take the shirt and sweatpants that he offers you. You change while listening to the shower run in the bathroom. You sigh and decide to forgo keeping your soaked underwear on, tucking them between your other clothes, folded and stacked in the corner of the room.

You settle into the change of clothes and sit back down on the bed, waiting until you hear the water stop running. Finally, the quiet washes over the room, followed shortly thereafter by the creaking of the door.

And there's Trey with wet hair and his own loosely-fitting clothes. Your heart leaps at the mere sight of him, despite the fact that you were quite literally on top of him not even twenty minutes ago.

He crosses the room and crawls into bed beside you. "C'mere," he says quietly. You look down, only to see him holding his arms out to you. Inviting you to return to the place that you were.

You oblige him, collapsing into the pillows and his warmth. 

You can't find it in you to say anything as you lay there, soaking up the feeling of his arms around you and his steady heartbeat against your ear. Once again, you don't know what to say. 

Apparently, he thinks that he does. "You're an amazing friend," he murmurs, chin resting on your shoulder. "You know that?" 

Your heart aches at that word. Friend. Because, yeah. This is what friends do. What the two of you do, anyway. Or did. Just this once. 

"Hush," you urge him weakly as your eyelids grow heavy. 

-

Taglist: Idk if my MCR taglist wants to be tagged for my non-MCR fics but @treyp4arker asked me to tag her so

#trey parker x reader #my writing #trey parker x you #trey parker smut #trey parker x female reader #fwb-verse

[cookiesuga55]

The Weight of the World

horny brain time~ (disclaimer: these are generalized cuisine stereotypes! Just horny fun for this lil au <3)

~~~

The idea that (along with genetics) people get a certain kind of chubby based on their cuisine. A certain ✨Flavour✨ of fat, if you will uwu

Uni Jungkook signs up to be part of this international relations exchange program where he gets to do a few semesters abroad, and he's going with his best friend Jimin. He's always been an admirer, and eats too much himself. The only other person that knows about his feeding kink is Jimin, who- by exposure from Jungkook- has also developed a love for the pudge in his own tummy and likes seeing pretty boys grow. They definitely feed each other's kinks. It's not all that uncommon for Jimin to flash Jungkook a grin and eye him up, and make a comment about how he's looking fatter than last month... and it sends Jungkook's bunny cheeks burning bright and his thighs trembling. He gets Jimin back with a playful slap to his hyung's dumptruck ass, and they both break into fits of laughter with half hard-ons. They have a mutual love for a few favorite streamers online, and watch together while chowing down bowls of rice and delicious meat.

Jungkook has never really thought about how- even though Jimin's weight settles in his thighs and ass first, and Jungkook's in his belly- they're both sort of... the same kind of fat. Jimin is so squeezable, all of his skin is soft and stretched, and his ass and hips wobble from the littlest touch. Jungkook's gut is the same. He's soft and fat in his middle, with a rounded waist that bulges out of his jeans and jiggles when he breathes.

On their study trip, Jungkook and Jimin can't help but... admire all of the chubby cuties that they see. And try all of the food, of course. Slowly, things start coming together. They spend a few months in America, a few in the United Kingdom, some in Europe, a couple in India and China, and three weeks in Japan before coming back home.

Jimin drags Jungkook to parties and bars despite the younger being shy and whining that he wants to just snuggle up at home and eat noodles. Jungkook notices that in America, the boys have flabby stacks of rolls that he wants to sink his hands into. He watches their newly-made friends chow on fast food and slurp gallons of soda. Jimin especially drools over the way that their guts are firm and bloated in the middle and hang heavily over their belts. Jungkook affectionately coins it the "McDonalds belly," after seeing so many university guys inhaling the greasy burgers.

Up next, they fly away from the flabby boys and land in the UK. Jungkook can't help but take up Jimin's job and drool over what his hyung calls the "potato belly." Guys with cute accents down pitchers and pitchers of thick beer. They chug dark, rich Guinness like it's water and, naturally, they need something fatty to munch with it. Jungkook gnaws on his lower lip as the university guys there inhale baskets of thick french fries called chips and practically live on potatoes. Fried fish and chips. Chips for lunch. Loaded chips. It's the go-to drunk food and devoured as a late-night snack. Jungkook wants to eat up the porky, slobby boys. Hearty wedges of greasy starch have built up in their tummies, and make them round and thick, just like the shape of a potato themselves. Boys belch and shamelessly wear their guts that push out full and demand attention, filled with fattening potatoes and beer. Jungkook has to sit on his hands to keep himself from groping them, and Jimin teases him relentlessly.

Jungkook pouts when they have to leave behind the shameless fatties, but he gets the chance to tease Jimin again as they step foot in Europe. Everyone lives on bread. So much fucking bread. Carbs for breakfast. Carbs for lunch. Carbs for dinner. Jimin gets addicted to the fluffy, sweet croissants that everyone eats for breakfast. Jungkook encourages him with glee as Jimin gains pounds of fluff right at the crest of his belly, making him even more adorably soft. His shirt sneaks up for the chub to squish out. Jungkook pinches it and makes the older squeak and tug down his shirt with flushed embarrassment and arousal. While the constant buttery pastries plump up his friend, Jungkook admires how squishy the cuties are here. Everyone munches on sandwiches that are mostly bread, and it makes them soft and curvy. Jimin and Jungkook's body types fit in best here, and they enjoy their own rounding tums as they hit up the bakery every morning. Jimin's soft cheeks puff out adorably from so many pastries.

Jungkook didn't realize that the type of food so heavily influenced how people's bodies soften out and fatten up. But they both worship the different shapes of chubbies in each country.

"Hyung... what kind of fat are we? What do we call our tummies?" Jungkook asks in Korean so know one at the restaurant will know as he brings another bite of creamy pasta to his lips. Jimin's cute chin doubles as he glances down at his own middle, squishy and round on his thick thighs as it rests in his lap- a new feat that had him whimpering and demanding for Jungkook to feel.

He giggles and touches the extra pudge. "Right now I'm growing my French buttery croissant belly... but you-" He openly ogles Jungkook and assesses him up and down, narrowing his eyes as he focuses on the way that Jungkook's tummy bulges from too much dinner. The attention makes his cheeks heat, despite being the one to ask the question. Jimin's answer warms him from the inside out. "You're pure Korean, Jungkookie. Home. Yummy and comforting. Fat on rice and tteok-bokki and spicy beef." Jimin's small hand sinks into the squishy swell of Jungkook's middle. Jimin cooes and pats his chub lovingly. Jungkook bites down on his lip to make sure he doesn't whine in public as a ripple goes through him and his belly jiggles happy and fat.

"F-fuck-" Jungkook uses the English word, and Jimin cackles, just to dig his fingers in and squeeze. He gets an ample handful. There's so much more pudge to grab than Jungkook remembers... is that new? Maybe Jimin isn't the only one who has been filling in on their 'eat the world' trip.

"Stuffed piggy~" Jimin teases in Korean. Jungkook sputters around his forkful of pasta.

Despite his teasing, they both waddle back to their shared room with bellies that are too full, stuffed and completely content.

In bed, Jungkook rubs his stomach and admires the curve beneath the blanket. His fingers sink deeply into the soft flesh. He curiously shakes, and a fat layer of warmth wobbles inside of him. Apparently he has been thickening up.

"All of this international food has been nice..." Jungkook turns his head lazily to see Jimin snuggled into his pillow like a chubby kitten.

"Mmmmm~" Jimin agrees with a sleepy nod, eyes closed.

"But- I kind of can't wait to stuff myself with real food-" Jungkook whispers into the safety of their room, imagining his belly full of hot bulgogi, comforting jijigae stew, and mouth-watering fried chicken. He moans at the thought. Heavy and filling. Just how he likes it.

"Mmmm- nothing beats home cooking, does it? I'm going eat a mountain of samgyeopsal when we get back. Gonna stuff myself until I can't move." Jimin mumbles and snuggles in deeper to his pillow.

Jungkook smiles at the thought. Both of them pinned to the couch, fat with all of their favorite dishes. It's such a warm and comforting image that it pulls Jungkook down into sleep, where he dreams of eating his way through a feast of familiar, home-cooked meals.

#oooooooops this isn't what I've found from traveling so much this year. nope. not at all. Not projecting even a lil. nope. #uwu #I love the idea of two best friends getting fatter together <3

[joecooperzz]

letters and sodas (90s!trey parker x fem!reader)

crossposted from my other account, @partypoisonzz

part one of the fwb-verse series

word count: 5,189

content: porn with plot, friends with benefits, sub!trey, dry humping, marking, praise kink

minors (anyone 17 and under) DNI

---

You stand out in the hallway, a warm paper bag clutched tightly in one hand as you knock with the other. You inhale the scent of the warm French fries, worrying that Trey won't even come to the door. 

Of course, you know that he's in there. He hasn't been anywhere else except for a handful of his classes all week. That isn't to say, however, that he'll answer. Ever since the incident, he's been effectively isolating himself, not seeming to want to see anybody. You can't really blame him for that, — the whole thing is majorly fucked, — but you're worried, for fuck's sake. Lots of people are, whether he thinks so or not.

The few times you've seen him, he was visibly a wreck. Despite looking like he had just rolled out of bed, he was obviously exhausted, his eyes in a perpetual state of puffiness and ringed by dark circles. He didn't seem to be putting any effort into taming his hair or shaving his face, which resulted in him looking sort of homeless. Then there was the fact that his clothes just seemed to be looking looser and looser, which raised your alarm bells more than anything. 

Your concern deepened when Jason paid him a visit earlier on in the week, only to shake his head and sigh when he reported back to the rest of you. 

"Jackass isn't eating anything," he informed you, Matt, and Dian as you scarfed down your respective shitty cafeteria dinners. "He's living off fucking SlimFast. That's all. No wonder he looks like a coke addict all of the sudden." 

Deeply concerned by these new developments, the four of you worked out a plan to keep tabs on him without him immediately chasing you off. You decided that all of you would alternate dropping by his dorm throughout the week, but never together and never with an established plan in place. That way, it wouldn't look rehearsed, — because it wasn't, — and would illustrate your genuine concern in a manner that didn't seem forced… because it wasn't. Each of you would approach the situation using whatever method seemed fit at the moment. 

When you left your final class for the afternoon, you decided that the appropriate method for the day would be to bring him food. The thought of him, holed up in his dorm and depressed, choking down weight loss shake after weight loss shake, made your heart sink. He needed something substantial. Maybe not healthy, but something he could chew and swallow. 

So you went to McDonald's and ordered a couple of combo meals. It wasn't gourmet cuisine, but it was affordable. It was the same junk that you ate together back when things were okay. The image of a bunch of high, giggling college kids piling into a booth and decimating a couple baskets of fries reminded you of simpler times… Those being, the times before Trey walked in on his fiancee in a state of post coital bliss with another guy and consequently started spiraling. 

You ruminated on the reasoning for all of it as you drove back to campus, digging into your bag to angrily chomp on a fry every now and again. As much as imagining him getting married put a lump in your throat and a pit in your stomach, you weren't selfish enough to take delight in his current situation. It burned you up, really.

Trey had been the type of boyfriend and fiance that made people envious of Liane, and she fucking cheated on him. If she hadn't gotten caught, she would have kept dragging it out, all the way to the altar. She would have continued after the wedding that was going to empty their pockets, and he would have been none the wiser. Now he was fucking starving himself with graduation fast approaching, and your blood pressure was going through the fucking roof even though it technically wasn't really your problem… And your fries were already gone by the time you pulled into your parking space. Great. 

You're hoping to God that he opens the door before you can start eating his fries. Luckily, not long after this thought crosses your mind, the door swings open, only to reveal an impressively-disheveled Trey. 

He looks from your face to the brown paper bag and back again before clearing his throat. "Come in."

He doesn't have to ask you twice. You nudge the door closed behind you and reach for the lock. "I brought you dinner," you tell him as you sit your drinks down. "It's nothing special. Just a Big Mac. But I thought…"

You freeze as he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into him. You are infinitely grateful that your face is being crushed into the fabric of his shirt. Otherwise, he would see that you're turning bright fucking red. 

"Thanks," he mutters, still holding onto you. He seems to be in no rush to let you go. You lean into him, soaking up the feeling of his arms around you in a way that you can totally pretend was possessive when you're letting your imagination run wild in bed tonight. 

After a while, however, you feel the need to speak up, knowing that you're still holding a bag full of McDonald's in your hand. "Trey," you speak up. "The food…" 

"Right. Sorry." He gives your waist a slight squeeze before releasing you from his grip. 

You force a smile onto your face as you take the sight of him in. He just looks so fucking tired.  

Still, you ask him the dreaded question as you take a seat on the floor: "How's it been going?" 

He doesn't hesitate to respond. "Fucking terrible," he says, rifling around in the bag for his burger. "I wish I was dead, honestly."

You frown as you reach for your own food. "She isn't worth all that," you mutter quietly. 

He laughs humorlessly. "As much as I appreciate the sentiment, I was going to marry that woman." He takes a needlessly-aggressive bite out of his burger before pulling back. "Forgive me for being a little torn up about my fiancee cheating on me." 

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. The bitchiness is nothing new. The situation itself is a bit harder to deal with. "You know I didn't mean it like that," you say. 

"Yeah. I know." He looks away from the burger that he's devouring like the starved man that he is to fix you with wide blue eyes. You do your best to keep your face from bursting into flames again. 

He sighs, reaching for one of the brown paper napkins in the bag. "Sorry for being an asshole," he concedes. "I know it's not an excuse, but I've kind of forgotten how to interact with other people over the past week." 

"It's fine." You take a sip of your soda before pulling back. "I've just been worried about you." 

You don't miss the change in expression that this confession provokes. His eyes flash with something soft. Guilt? Relief? 

"I wish I could say that you don't have to," he finally says. "But, well… All you have to do is look around to see that I'm a fucking wreck."

"Anybody would be," you tell him. 

There's another pause. If the two of you were talking about literally anything else, it would probably be comfortable. You've always been the type of friends who could just do things together and not talk. His company was enough to put you at ease, and vice versa. 

But now you're looking at the shadows under his eyes and the scruff on his face, the pure dejection in his expression, and the silence feels like things that you should be saying but can't conjure into acceptable words. You worry that you'll be sitting across from each other all night, plastic straws squeaking and tension palpable. 

It gets to the point when you're itching to say something just to say it. So, without even worrying that it's the wrong thing, you do.

"I've missed you," you confess quietly.

He gives you that look again. You always feel like he doesn't just look at you, — he looks through you, searching for something. You don't know if he's found what he was looking for as he balls up the paper wrapper that his burger came with and tosses it at the trashcan. Somehow, it lands where he intended it to. 

He turns back to you and tries to smile. Though he still looks like a recently-kicked puppy, it seems a bit more genuine this time. "I missed you, too." 

Stupid as it is, your heart sinks as he stands up, leaving you sitting on the floor with your legs tucked under you. You watch as he takes a seat on the unmade double bed in the corner and settles back against the pillows. You wonder for a moment if this is some sort of silent dismissal, a wordless plea for you to go home and leave him the fuck alone to grieve, but then…

"Wanna come sit?" he beckons you. 

Okay, fuck. You have got to stop turning bright red every time he says something that could be construed as being mildly suggestive, but there's something about the fact that he wants you in his bed…

You need to get a hold of yourself. 

"Sure." You feign nonchalance as you discard the trash from your own dinner and walk towards the bed. 

The mattress squeaks, settling beneath you. There isn't much space between Trey and the wall, but he shifts to accommodate you, anyway. 

"Thanks," you mumble. He hums an acknowledgement before the two of you settle into silence.

No background music, no television. Just the two of you, silently soaking up one another's company. 

It's not as awkward as it was before, because you know that he genuinely wants you here. You feel even more sure of this when he stretches as an excuse to loop his arm around you. You take this as an invitation to lean into him, resting your head against his shoulder. 

The closeness is nice. You breathe in the scent of his laundry detergent and body wash, — he's still been showering while in this sorry state, thank God, — and wait for him to speak. 

After a while, he does. "I haven't just been laying around, you know," he tells you. "I'm scripting something for this trailer project I have coming up." 

"Yeah?" You shift, looking up at him. "Care to elaborate, or am I just gonna have to be surprised?" 

"It's a musical, actually." You try to conceal your surprise as he brushes a loose strand of hair from in front of your face, then continues running his fingers through the strands, and… He's just playing with your hair while he talks to you. Alright, then. "About all the stuff that happened with Alferd Packer. I'm thinking that if I can get Matt and Dian in on it, it could be fairly decent…" 

"That's gonna be your big comeback project?" you ask. "Eating your friends?" 

He laughs. "How do you know I'm casting myself as the lead?" 

"Because I know you," you reply easily. "Plus, you're like… made to play Alferd Packer." You cast him a mischievous grin. "You've got those crazy eyes…"

He huffs out a chuckle. "You're so nice to me." His hand stays in your hair, working out the tangles that you sustained while driving back to campus with the windows down. "Wanna hear the best part?" 

"Of course."

You can hear the smile in his voice as he continues. "So, there's this horse…" he starts. "Named Liane. She's the type to let everyone ride her, you know…"

"So that's how you're dealing with it?" you ask. "Creating a slutty horse character and naming it after her?" 

"That's one of the ways," he replies with a shrug. 

Against your better judgment, you cast your gaze to his other arm, which is now looped around your waist as though it were the most natural thing in the world. "Is this another?"

His face goes bright pink as he unthreads his fingers from your hair. You regret saying anything for a moment, worrying that he'll pull away. Somehow, he doesn't. "I guess?" he says instead. "I mean, it's kinda nice, having someone care so much…" 

You lean further back into him. "It is nice," you admit. "I kinda figured you were touch-starved, anyway. You've been all over me since I walked in…"

"Sue me for being excited to see one of my best friends." He wraps his arm back around you, pulling you closer to him. "You were like some sort of guardian angel, showing up with dinner…"

You attempt to swat at him, which isn't a very successful effort, considering he's got you in a rather-sturdy grip. "I bought you McDonald's," you say. "You shouldn't be so easy."

"That was what I needed tonight." He glances down at you, offering you a smile that is so much gentler than the one you usually get. The kind of smile that confronts you with the disconcerting realization that, unlike most of your exchanges up until this point, this isn't a joke. " You were what I needed tonight."

The sentiment surprises you enough to look up and meet his eyes, startling when you find that he was already looking down at you. You hold his gaze for a moment, wondering when one of you will break away and laugh it off. 

But neither of you ever do.

You just get closer and closer, slowly but surely. You keep testing the limits. Trey rests his hand against the side of your face. For a while, he just holds you there, looking into your eyes. You wait patiently, just in case he changes his mind. The warmth in the pit of your stomach spreads from the way that he's looking at you. Like he doesn't believe he should get the opportunity to even touch you, let alone...

You lose your train of thought as he suddenly presses his lips to yours. 

Your eyes stay wide open for a moment, in total shock that this is actually happening. Once your surprise wears off, however, you close your eyes and relax into his touch. He kisses you slowly, tenderly, as though he's trying to commit the moment to memory. Like he wants to preserve the feeling of your mouth on his, your hands on the back of his neck, every first touch the two of you are sharing right now. 

You moan as his tongue brushes over yours, reaching up to tangle your fingers in his hair. He gasps into your mouth as you tug on the strands, deepening the kiss even more in response to your slight tugging. 

Okay. He likes having his hair pulled. Noted. 

His mouth wanders from your lips to your jaw before trailing down further down. You lean back in satisfaction as he presses long, insistent kisses against the side of your neck. 

"Marking me up, huh?" you manage to ask breathlessly.

"Mmm-hmm." Sharp teeth scrape lightly over a fresh bruise, inspiring a gasp from you.

You throw your head back, exposing even more of your neck to him. He promptly takes the opportunity to attack every inch of the skin available.

You draw in a shaky breath. Your hands wander aimlessly across his body as he explores your neck with his mouth. "You want everybody to see, don't you?" you ask quietly. "Want them to look at me and know that you've been here?" 

He gives another affirmative hum. Only this time, it turns into a whine.

You've obviously done something there. It's hard for you to bite back the sly grin threatening to surface. "You like that?" you question. "You want everybody to know how good you are for me?" 

He halts his kisses, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he lets out an unmistakable moan.

Satisfaction consumes you. 

Oh, yeah. This is going to be fun .

"Yeah? That's good, isn't it?" Your hands travel over his back ever-so-gently, tracing circles that might be soothing in any other circumstance. "You wanna be my good boy?" 

Another whimper passes his lips as you shift against him, pressing your hips into his just slightly. "Fuck. Please."

You giggle. "Please, huh?" Abruptly, you pull away from him. He stares at you breathlessly, taking in your mussed hair and the way that you're looking back at him, eyes on fire.

His own eyes go wider as you swing your leg across his lap and straddle him. He lets out a groan as you wiggle a bit in a mock attempt to make yourself comfortable. You are immensely pleased when one of his hands wraps around your hip.

"It's a little hot in here," you comment, reaching down to tug at the hem of your T-shirt. You quickly tug the garment over your head before tossing it haphazardly to the side. 

You giggle when you look down at him, only to find him staring back up at you with a look of utter awe. 

You grin before cupping his face, pulling him in close again. "That's better." Your lips brush over his in a quick peck, followed shortly thereafter by another. When you pull back, you give him a demand. "Touch me."

His eyes are wild as he looks up at you. "Touch you where?"

You chuckle. "Wherever you want."

"Shit." Almost as soon as the words leave your mouth, he's kissing you hard again, fingers clumsily grasping to touch every inch of skin that he possibly can. Finally, he settles on a particular spot, sighing against your lips as he clumsily gropes you through your bra.

You let out a contented sigh as he kneads at you desperately. You are reminded in the fondest way possible of the movie theater shenanigans you got up to with your suitors a few years ago, — clumsy, but so passionate that it makes up for it. 

Still, you can't help trying to spur him just a bit further. You nudge him slightly, signaling for him to let you sit up before reaching for the hook on your bra. "Wanna see more?" 

Though the question is clearly rhetorical, he gives you a fervent nod, watching intently as you unclasp the article. 

You smile at him as he stares at you with that same awed expression on his face, only magnified this time. "Well?"

Blue eyes alight, he shifts restlessly beneath you. "Fuck," he curses. "C'mere." 

He wastes no time before pulling you closer to him. He plants small nips and kisses from your collarbone to your chest, trailing down until his mouth lands on your bare breast. 

For the first time since all this started, you momentarily lose your composure. You toss your head back as your fingers tangle in his hair again. "Oh, fuck. Such a good boy." 

The noise he lets out results in a vibration against your sensitive skin, inspiring another mewl from you that totally betrays your control over the situation.

His mouth travels over your skin, leaving behind warm, wet kisses. Every now and then, he stops and sucks, leaving behind yet another mark that is sure to bruise later. You maintain your grip on his hair, reveling in the feeling of his lips against you.

You squirm in his lap as his mouth travels back up your body, stopping just above your collarbone. He groans against you, tightening his grip on your waist. 

Deep down, you know that you already have him exactly where you want him. Still, you pause for a moment before rocking your hips against him again, — slow, teasing. 

Your heartbeat picks up speed as he makes another choked sound before rolling his hips up against yours. "Please," he whimpers. 

Your only reply is a quiet chuckle as you push yourself against him with less hesitance this time. He lets out a breathy gasp at the feeling of you pressing against him before returning his attention to your neck. 

It takes you a bit to find a rhythm. Impromptu dry humping sessions aren't exactly a regular thing for you, and your uncertainty about how to position your legs makes you feel a little awkward. After a while, though, things start to come more naturally, allowing you to grind down against him at a steady pace. 

A satisfied moan escapes your lips when you feel his hard cock pressing against you through his jeans. He pulls away from your neck with a hiss as you deliberately rub against the area that you know will be the most sensitive. You bite your lip as you roll your hips. Your head spins, knowing that, if it weren't for a couple layers of fabric, you could lower yourself onto him and erase any distance between the two of you. 

Another choked, high-pitched noise meets your ears. You look down at him through heavy-lidded eyes. 

Your heart skips a beat as you take in the absolute sight underneath you. 

Trey has his head thrown back, his eyes screwed shut. His lip is caught between his teeth as he digs his fingers into the sheets. He opens his eyes when he feels you stop your movements. 

Your stomach flips. You swear that you've never had anyone look at you the way that he is now. 

Though you've never considered yourself a greedy person in the past, you're beginning to reevaluate that judgment. Two hours ago, the thought of him, hard underneath you and looking up at you like this, would have seemed like the ultimate fever dream, nothing more than something to imagine when you were getting yourself off. 

Now that it's actually happening, all you can think is that you want more. More of this. More of him. You would do this every night if you could. 

Of course, you can't. A sick feeling gnaws at the depths of your stomach, telling you that he'll probably consider this a mistake once it's all over. In the long run, this moment will probably be nothing more than a messy, opportunistic rebound in his eyes.

That's why you ought to make this time count. 

You reach for one of his hands, untangling his fingers from the sheets as you thread them through your own. You guide his palm back up to your chest. He groans, bucking up against you as he goes back to clumsily grabbing at you like your horny high school boyfriends. 

When his eyelids begin to flutter, you speak up. "Look at me," you demand, voice hoarse with utter want. 

To your shock and delight, he immediately complies. 

You stay still for a moment, staring into lust-clouded pools of deep blue, before beginning to slowly roll your hips again. 

As soon as you hear the muffled whimper that your movement elicits from Trey, you give up on maintaining eye contact. Instead, you crush your lips against his again, reveling in the thrill of having him fucking moan into your mouth. His hands wander from your tits to your ass and back up again, exploring every bit of you that he can possibly touch without either of you shedding your jeans. 

Your head spins at the thought of how real this is as his tongue brushes over yours and his thumb rubs over your hip. It's dizzying to think that you're as new to him as he is to you. For all the times that you've gone to dinner or done your homework together, gotten drunk and/or high in this very dorm room, playfully pushed one another around and made each other laugh until your ribs were sore, you've never done this. You had never known what his hands felt like, hungrily roaming over your bare skin. He's never gripped you like this, marveling at how perfect your figure had been under your loose-fitting shirts this whole time. 

His hands tighten around your waist as he comes up for air and you pick up your pace. The combination of the friction of denim against denim and the noises that he's making have left you soaking wet, inspiring you to release a few moans of your own as you move against him.

You melt into the warmth of blissful pleasure as his whimpers grow louder. As you throw your head back with a debauched moan, Trey looks up at you with pleading eyes. 

You can't find it in you to worry about the aftermath of this anymore. At this point, you're just working towards your release. You are fixated on the idea that you're so close to falling apart on top of him, that this is all real. The thought itself gives you a heady rush, which doesn't subside when you hear him let out a particularly desperate whine. 

The sound causes you to look down at him, only to find him looking back at you like you're the only thing keeping him alive. The word reverence crosses your mind as he opens his mouth. 

"I'm… Fuck, " he stumbles over himself. "I'm getting really fucking close. Can I…" 

He lets out a squeak of surprise as you dig your nails into his shoulders through his shirt. 

"Good boy," you coo, pressing your hips harder against his. "My good boy… Fucking come for me, that's it…" 

Something between your encouragement and the quick rhythm of your grinding causes him to lose control quicker. He gasps. "Baby…" he murmurs before burying his face in your neck and stilling underneath you, releasing a long, trembling moan. He melts into a shaking mess as he rides out his release with you on top of him, slightly shifting your hips until his tremors die down.

At that point, you go still on top of him. To your surprise, he shifts beneath you, straightening his posture before pulling you onto his thigh. 

"Come on, keep going," he urges you. "Wanna see you come. Come on, please."

It doesn't take you long to reach your peak with his hands against your waist and the warmth of him pressed between your legs. With a broken moan, you collapse into his arms, trembling in his grip. 

He lets out a quiet sound of awe as you shake until you eventually relax. 

Once your pulse and breathing begin to level out, you note the feeling of his hands still on your hips, thumbs rubbing gentle circles against your skin as he speaks softly to you.

"There you go," he says, still slightly breathless. "So pretty…" 

You only manage a sigh of acknowledgement as you rest your head against his chest. 

You lie there for a few moments, allowing one another's body heat to ground the both of you. 

As you predicted earlier, your mind begins to swim with worry. You wonder what will come after this, how awkward it will get, if he'll ever even want to talk about it again. Hell, you're waiting for him to kick you out as soon as the endorphins wear off and he realizes that the two of you just pretty much fucked less than two weeks after his engagement imploded. 

For now, though, he's holding you and playing with your hair again, fingers trailing over your back after running through the strands. 

Your eyes grow heavy as you fleetingly think that this is almost as good as what you just did, — the intimacy that comes in the afterglow. It's sickeningly on brand for you, — this greed, this aching desire for more. You didn't even take your pants off, and you're already worrying that no one else will ever make you feel like he did.

You guess that's what happens when you fuck around with the friend you've been in love with forever.

Trey's fingers still before he nudges you. "Hey," he says softly.

"Hmm?" you hum, dreading whatever it is he might say. 

He pats your back gently. "Can you get up for a second?" he asks. "I should probably, uh… Go clean up."

You nod, trying to act like this awkward dismissal doesn't make you want to punch yourself in the teeth. "Yeah. Go ahead." You sit up, swinging your legs over the side of the bed and reaching for your discarded bra and T-shirt.

You're surprised by the feeling of his fingers threading through yours again when you begin to stand up. "You don't have to leave," he says. The hint of desperation in his voice takes you aback. "I mean, you can stay a little bit longer, if you want." 

You turn back at him, taking in his pink-tinged face. You shift uncomfortably against the bed, cringing at the wet fabric between your thighs. "I at least need to go get a change of clothes…" 

He shakes his head. "I've got some you can borrow," he says. "There's an extra toothbrush under the cabinet, too."

You blink at him. "You want me to stay the night?"

His blush deepens as he shrugs. "I mean… I don't see why not."

You can see why not. Couples spend the night at each other's places, wearing one another's clothes. The two of you don't exactly fit that bill.

Then again, you just made each other come. You're pretty sure wearing his clothes and sleeping in his dorm isn't the most glaring boundary that you've overstepped. Besides, a few more hours of confusing closeness is preferable to returning to your own dorm and worrying that he hates you now.

So you nod and take the shirt and sweatpants that he offers you. You change while listening to the shower run in the bathroom. You sigh and decide to forgo keeping your soaked underwear on, tucking them between your other clothes, folded and stacked in the corner of the room.

You settle into the change of clothes and sit back down on the bed, waiting until you hear the water stop running. Finally, the quiet washes over the room, followed shortly thereafter by the creaking of the door.

And there's Trey with wet hair and his own loosely-fitting clothes. Your heart leaps at the mere sight of him, despite the fact that you were quite literally on top of him not even twenty minutes ago.

He crosses the room and crawls into bed beside you. "C'mere," he says quietly. You look down, only to see him holding his arms out to you. Inviting you to return to the place that you were.

You oblige him, collapsing into the pillows and his warmth. 

You can't find it in you to say anything as you lay there, soaking up the feeling of his arms around you and his steady heartbeat against your ear. Once again, you don't know what to say. 

Apparently, he thinks that he does. "You're an amazing friend," he murmurs, chin resting on your shoulder. "You know that?" 

Your heart aches at that word. Friend. Because, yeah. This is what friends do. What the two of you do, anyway. Or did. Just this once. 

"Hush," you urge him weakly as your eyelids grow heavy. 

---

tag list: @nathanyoungsupremacy

#trey parker x reader #fwb-verse #trey parker x female reader #trey parker x you #my writing

[calypso-finale]

Fifty Three. Part 2

I am glad I got Halle with me as a gym partner, she is pushing me so badly like I don’t even be that harsh on myself, but Halle is like no we doing that extra shit, I fear she is holding me hostage at this point “ahem” Halle said, looking over at her “yeah?” she pointed at the can of coke I have in hand “put it back in the fridge, cheat day is when?” she pointed “Saturday” I groaned out “exactly but Rylee, see the progress. You look healthier within yourself; you know you do. Look at your ass girl” she is right, she is actually right, I am not about to do it “good” I chuckled “I didn’t know you was a gym freak like this? You hid it” she sat on the stool, she is watching me make a salad, she watches me a lot because I love to snack “I always have been, but I let myself go and then when you said I am going gym, Lillian is useless so like we both are bad for each other in that department so like when you said it I jumped on it, it’s a good thing. Gym gets all the bad vibes out of you, and you said you feel better” nodding my head “I do, like I feel me. I feel like I am coming back, just a baby changed me so bad. Like I felt my body wasn’t mine anymore because obviously he was baking in there and he made my body change the way he did, I just felt he took that from me but now looking, I am literally going back to the size I was. I was just being lazy” I said “also you was getting yourself into a deep depression, I mean in life we all go through hardships and I think the biggest is men, me and him. We aren’t perfect, oh we had shit going on and I gained weight at that point too. We split up, we got together, we split, got together. He trashed my whole apartment too, we were toxic Rylee, I mean he wasn’t good to me, I wasn’t good to him. When we hit uni, well when I hit uni I tamed somewhat, and now we are at a good place but I think we was in that moment of growing, relationships are hard Rylee, I find it hard now with him. The main cause of fucking heart pain is men” I chuckled “it really is but I think like my mom feels I am obsessing over him, you know him. But I am not, I am just a nosey ex” Halle laughed “bitch tell me, I love playing detective too” pointing at her “I will hold you to do that, let me get the door” drying off my hands, making my way to the door “I will grill the chicken” she said, she can do what she likes. Dragging the door open “Rylee?” a guy peaked around the flowers “yes?” he held them to me “oh” I said “thank you” taking the flowers and he just ran off, kicking the door shut. Looking at the card “mhm” Ti sent me flowers, took her long enough, she was probably thinking.

Halle pointed at the flowers with a mouthful of food “these are nice, she spent up” nodding my head “she did, took her time. She didn’t call me at all though, I think she knows to like poke me from afar but like the fuck you putting that guy before me, just least fucking text me and say sorry I am busy but I am over it, I took it out of the stepper” Halle smiled “exactly” the buzzer went off again “that will be my child” putting my plate down “I am glad I get to see my nephew before I go and thank you Rylee for the food” making my way over to the door “you’re most welcome!” I spat, dragging open the door. My eyes looked down knowing my son will be just stood there “you’re back, late” I said “hi mommy” oh this child has McDonalds, I can smell the fries from here. He ran inside “nephew!” Halle spat, Oakley held out his overnight bag “thanks” taking it from him “this weekend I uhm, I have a performance in Manchester. I want him to be there” clearing my throat “you had had him now until next week” why am I being a bitch “is the erm white girl going to be there? I don’t want another girl near my child” Oakley shook his head “just like you did me? Yeah, boundaries and respect huh. By all means, you can come but I would like him there, I am his dad and I want him there for moments in my career like this so?” nodding my head “fine” Oakley just stared me out “I will text you the address, clearly you not going to let him come alone but fine” nodding my head “take care” closing the door behind him as he left.

Halle has opened his happy meal already, I sniffing those fries already, the smell is hitting “you took one didn’t you?” I pointed at her “no bitch” she is a lie “Aziel, did auntie take your food?” he smiled “mommy look?” he held the toy to me, sitting down on the seat “ok, let mommy look at it” I said “that was intense huh?” Halle said “he has a performance in Manchester, wanted him to be there, I said you had him now but then I felt bad, so I was like he ain’t going there without me, I don’t want that white girl near him, but he didn’t deny it either. So yeah” I shrugged “Rylee, bitch. Now you can’t be a hypocrite because you had that man near him did you not?” looking away from Halle “just let’s not do that, and yeah he has that performance with Amazon, it’s being live streamed. I saw it advertised; I get why he would want that. You getting tickets? Helping sisters out?” waving her off “I wanted tickets but like you know, I was late. Are you going?” I shrugged “so yeah, well we will come too” she grinned “we can go on train, have a little fun” I groaned out “train? How far is the place” Halle pulled a face “maybe not, I think it’s a little far but do it, have fun. Let him have his moment with his son, little miss negative” I groaned out “fine, ok. Whatever, I didn’t say no, I just said I am not letting him go alone, that is all” Halle tiltied her head “you literally just said keep that white bitch away from my son, please. I think it makes it hard having a child with your ex that you once was with and you had feelings for, then they are coming to the door, I am glad we waited it out, I just know I would find it hard, so I get it” nodding my head slowly “he is being a good dad so yeah, I am letting him but I will go with him, those places are busy all the time and I fear his family will be there, I don’t want them near him after the whole holiday business” Halle gasped “Oh yeah! No you go, I get it” I know Oakley is a pushover, he will have his family there for this.

“Mommy look” Aziel held the tablet up “play the next one baby, it’s ok” tapping on the next video “decided to call me back” Aziel waved at the laptop “aww hello baby, TT baby. I miss you so much, how are you?” Aziel smiled at me “auntie is speaking to you, tell auntie. Don’t be shy now” he is being silly “say auntie I’m watching coco melon” he fell into “mommy tell” I chuckled “ok mommy say it, auntie. Aziel is watching coco melon and he got upset that it ended” the way Aziel is just smiling at me “he really loves you Rylee, the way he is smiling at you” smiling at him “hey!” I spat he kissed my lips “give auntie a kiss, blow her a kiss and then you can watch coco melon” I don’t know what was wrong with him there, he was just smiling and staring at me “awww TT baby” he did and then shuffled away “mommy” he whined out, he is getting trapped trying to hold himself and the tablet. Grabbing him and sitting him down “there you go, now watch it” shaking my head “so you get the flowers I guess? Spoilt brat” I shrugged “they are in the trash, but I did. Like it wasn’t hard to just say I’m busy, you fully ignored me, like mom says I have too much time on my hands but then again I don’t, she just made me busy I think anyways. But thanks, for the flowers” Ti grinned “am I forgiven, I just had a whirlwind of a time, you know how Fenty is, it’s always something but not excusing the ignore but you know me, I love Aziel so much I missed him, I didn’t get to actually speak or see him” she has a point “true, how is Taylan? Tell me more, is it all good vibes?” I asked, I hope she had a good time “very, when he left we kissed somewhat” I sniggered “what do you mean somewhat? Is that y’all first kiss then? So would you say he is a prospect?” she nodded her “one hundred percent, he is like so good, he is fine too” I cooed out “how is that going to work? Dubai and Aussie? Who moving?” I mean that is a big difference “I am going to ask mom to come home, not that. Dubai isn’t really where I want to stay forever, I mean the place is nice but forever to be here? Hell no, he is moving to America, but Philli” I gasped “no way, ew” Ti laughed “but I said I will be in New York, mom will say what about work since I am new to the thing” she has really worked this out “well go bitch, why not. As long as he is good to you. Also America is better, I miss America” I am jealous, I hate London somewhat.

“Trust me, I cannot wait to go back to America and just be back to normal things, but I have enjoyed seeing the world like Dubai is wild. Very rich too, it’s just crazy. I mean we went to this business guy’ apartment he has a tiger there, just sitting there. I was scared” I laughed “oh that picture you took! Oh yeah, that is crazy, but you need to have us all meet Taylan at the same time” Ti pulled a face “meet the cray family, he might regret it but when and if we are official it’s still like friends” I was going to say put a title on it ASAP but it’s on her terms, she is doing it the right way “I heard that you was being bullied by the white witch” putting a finger up at her “bitch, well she took Aziel and I was really down about shit, just everything was shit. I mean I am much happier now, positive but I have my moments, mom made a whole schedule for me and has sent Oakley mom papers. Like just today, he asked about taking Aziel Manchester which he just bought him back, and he is hanging with some girl, like minus that. This concert he is doing is like a big thing, even Halle knows, I didn’t so he asked, he wants him there. I said no but like if I am there, he will have that bitch there too, he goes to me like it’s a lot to make her sign that, I said I don’t care she is psycho so I know they will be” Ti groaned out “when is it? The concert?” she asked “Saturday” she let out an oh “I was going to say I will come but nope, that is too soon. But I am proud of you, I mean yes I have been busy but I seen what you doing with young mothers” I chuckled “you mean mom idea of the century, I am enjoying it but like I don’t know, it’s just much but they seem really appreciative bringing this to light, that young mothers don’t get the help and whatever” Ti laughed “but it made me smile, like you seemed so in your zone speaking on it. I feel like you are still leaning and you are still confused on it. You look at Aziel like is he mine” I chuckled “I feel he is my little brother until he says mom” Ti cooed out “let me see TT baby” turning the laptop “TT baby, hey!” Aziel looked up “hey why you shy with auntie” poking him, he is so shy. “You know what Rylee, you can do better in regards to Oakley. The men you can potentially get is so much better than him, I don’t want you to lower yourself when you can get better. Oakley isn’t the best looking and we all know that, I just think you need to not lower yourself because he’s moved on” Ti said “mhm I get what you mean” moving the laptop back to me “but to me it was never to do with looks like I know people said things but to me, he is special but I get it. I’m letting go of men, just about me and my son. I mean ok yeah it upset me to know he’s messing with another, any girl would but I’m not going to be crazy” I laughed “good! But I feel like he’s doing it back at you, I feel like he is but anyways, you just keep doing you and making yourself the better one” smiling at her “and you keep doing the same, I miss home so bad, I just you know. I miss us being teenagers, don’t mind me” I chuckled.

Reaching over and grabbing the milk bottle from the side, placing it on my side table. He sleeps, I sleep just because I know he will be waking me up. Pushing the covers back and getting into bed, my phone screen lit up. Oakley has text me, I’ve changed his name to Oakley now so this the change. Unlocking my phone.

From: Oakley

U coming to Manchester then?

To: Oakley

Yeah

From: Oakley

Cool, need a ride there?

To: Oakley

Nah also my friends are coming so four extra people but we will make our own way there

From: Oakley

Alright it will be busy

To: Oakley

Your way of saying mommy and daddy will be there

From: Oakley

🤐

I know I am right with this, Oakley is a pushover. I mean what do you expect when he’s bought them a house and did it up for them, he’s dumb but I refuse to let my son near that. I rather the white chick he’s with take care of my son, his mother is a psycho and a racist.

#Chrianna #Chrianna FF #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Chrianna Fanfic #Chrianna Fanfiction

[sarahperfectgirlmichelle]

Perfect Girl Curse

Now that you're a bonified Perfect Girl®. I've got some bad news for you. And it's going to hurt you all the way to your soul. You have to hide away all of your gifts, all of your talents, all of your feelings, all of your hopes and dreams. Behind a dreaded pay wall.

Because loving authentically is never going to pay the bills. Not the light bills and not your personal needs. There are but 2 ways to make it in this world as a Perfect Girl®, and those are: to be fake as all hell and play to a crowd of people you feel no authentic feelings for (aka apathy); or become passive aggressive, drawing what you truly desire out by leveraging your power against the people you just want to love authentically... but will never be able to.

Someone's Jewish grandmother always tells me "the man is the head of the house, and a woman is the neck" and then she grabs her adorable little forehead with one set of fingertips and her pudgy chin with the other, and manually turns her own head. There is feigned excitement in her eyes and voice and a deep sadness and longing in them as well.

We all long to make the world better. We all desire to be loved for who we truly are. We all want to build something pure and true. And yet, the world always finds a way to rob us of it.

If you ever find a true friend, someone who authentically cares about you, and you enjoy one another's company, without wanting to get in each other's way because you support each other fully, then please, I beg, check your ego at the door. This is the GOOD stuff. Once you betray that, it won't matter how great your friend is or how perfect your friendship was. Because the one person a Perfect Girl® will never forgive, is herself.

Scream and cry ALL YOU WANT as you get stabbed in the front, back, and from all sides. Love her, Hate her, remain neutral; in her heart, you are DEAD.

Perfect Girl®'s heart is the only world where she exerts any real control, if you're alive or dead there is entirely up to her. If she's a Perfect Fool® then she could reward your abuse and punish your concern; try to drag your heart into the pit with hers so she can exploit your Perfect Love with her Perfect Hate. And back and forth it will go until one of you decides it's not worth it any more.

Whether a Perfect Girl® is ultimately your friend or your enemy isn't really about the both of you always being perfect. It's about the preponderance of evidence. How you feel in your heart and how you act or don't act on those feelings. Its really just a battle of already embattled hearts. How does she make you better or worse, what kind of woman you want to be, and what kind of reinforcement you want to dole out. (That's what we are right? Rats? Dogs? 4 year olds locked in class rooms with embittered, decaying marms who will never shed the spectre of Behavioralism?)

[fine, you want shit to get personal all out in the open... yuck but fine... no one else read past here ok? thanks, you're all on the honor system]

Oh crap, caught myself being true to my heart again. Really gotta be careful with that. Sure, I see it improving people everywhere and all of the time - making people, times, childhoods better - getting my entire McDonald's order comped just for dealing in kindness, patience and understanding - makes me happy. But yeah, I have to admit, this shit's lonely as fuck. Lonely... but me. At least I can enjoy my own company. I know a lot of people I love & respect who can't. I won't lie and say it isn't a burden, carry many enormous weights, and more than enough power to carry them all. Shit, I can read minds, melt, fly, change the course of lives, families, nations. Stop tearing me down, I specifically chose you to elevate. It's always you ungrateful hoes I've got to single out and who try to annihilate me and who turn out to be the best fucking people in the end. If you feel singled out it's because you can't stop yourself stinking of the worst kind of desperation. The UNWARRANTED kind.

You keep staring at your navel and openly asking what's wrong with you. You keep trying to control everything even if your control makes it worse. You keep bragging about things that are SAD. You are a natural filter that only attracts predator and pure. And which do you reward? And which do you punish?

I was ready to give up the rest of my life to reward your goodness with love and success. That's not pity. That's not predation. That's respect. That's love.

If you don't want the commitment, that's fine. I'm loyal enough to try to get the job done anyway. Because it has to be done for you to be true to yourself and have the life you want and deserve.

You need to be totally open to love and totally rejecting of fear. I know, it's scary. It was even scarier for me because I don't have all of your experience and specialized knowledge to fall back on. Don't be a fool for love. Just embody love. You can still make good choices, but you don't have to show your work. You don't need their approval and you'll never get it that way, anyway. Carry yourself with authority, not just preferences. Get creative, you're far too predictable. Show, don't tell. Give them a good story, with hooks, and mystery. Come on. WRITE.

Girl, you don't need me, but you do need PASSION. You gotta FEEL. Feel the love take you over. Feel the fear until you banish it. Ditch the ego like you did when the kid came along. Where you're supposed to get that passion from now, I don't know. You aren't falling into any of the desperate traps you're supposed to because you're too good and smart and controlled. I for real just want to hold you forever though. You're the perfect cup of tea. Barely get my tongue wet trying to nurse you and you go and turn cold on me.

Also, not a pimp or a psycho (not that there's anything wrong with being either). Just a good friend, ya paranoid cunt rag.

Here are some writing prompts for you, write something gracious/hopeful and something else relatable but astute. Steal, rework whatever you want from where ever you want. Think about your audience, the people you want to attract into your life. Leave the jealousy and resentment on the cutting room floor. It's about the life you want, not the life you got.

BoNuS rOuNd: Girls v. Boys

Well I set out to reveal all of the secrets of my heart and you made it this far. So what exactly is the difference between boys and girls?

Well...

Sensitive hearts can tell their owners...

Brains can tell upon autopsy...

U n h e l p f u l . Intuitively one can tell.

Simple as:

As children, little to no difference. Don't play that game.

But full grown:

Fixing a broken man is always possible and never worth trying.

Fixing a broken woman is never possible and always worth trying_

GAME GUIDE: CaUtIoN sPoILeRs!

quality map created by a black heathen nerd sweet enough to save the rest of us the trouble

BOSS Fights

How to beat Boss Man: cumfueled ego domination!

How to beat Boss Lady: no winning, you have it or you don't!

But let them duke it out. WTF. A little mystery never hurt anyone.

#perfect girl #education #my writing #words #Youtube

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Anklets and Necklaces

Inspired by this tweet.

@5-secondsofcolor I’m not sorry.

Female Reader insert. NSFW Content (18+). My smut writing is hella rusty. So I do apologize, whoops.

_______________

Calum plays at the anklet, spinning it around and around her joint as her legs are crossed and resting in his lap. The gold jewellry is hardly ever taken off since he gave it to her. In return, she gifted him a chain with a tiny pendant with her initial etched into the back of it. The front of it is an arrowhead. He wears it so often now, that when it’s off, he feels a little incomplete. It’s an easy gesture to carry her everywhere with him.

“Okay we gotta decide what to eat for lunch like now or I’m going to get hangry,” she states.

Calum glances up from his phone, to see her still scrolling on hers. “Oh no. Not hangry,” he teases. But he knows she means it. Her warnings have about a thirty minute window, just enough for a delivery if they get something simple. Or if they want something more complicated, they need to find a snack now while the main course is cooking. “What do you want? Thai? Mexican?”

“Would you hate me if I said I really just wanted nuggets from McDonalds?”

The pout on her lips makes him laugh, “No, I could never. Usual then?”

“Yes, please.”

Stretching across the length of her, Calum pushes his lips together, trying to ask for a kiss. She laughs in return and squeezes his cheeks. “Be lucky you’re cute,” she states before lifting up slightly to meet his lips. “And squishy.”

“Ain’t nothing on me squishy,” he huffs, straightening back up to put her order into the app.

She sets her phone down on her stomach, gazing up over the sharp line of his jaw that his plump cheeks sit atop. And while it’d be easy to return with a poke and a verbal jab about his cheeks, she just watches him. His fingers deftly work over the screen. The white tank sits as a stark contrast to the depth and glow of his skin. “I think all the right things on you are squishy.”

“Yeah, what are those?”

“Your cheeks. And as much as you and your trainer kick your ass, I know happy weight when I see it.”

Calum grins, a chuckle shaking through him as he sets his phone down on the arm of the couch--the order completed on his end. He pinches at her thighs. “Take that back.”

She shakes her head. “No, I don’t think I will. I like it--just like I like my cookies. Hard on the edges gooey in the middle.”

Standing for just a moment to let her legs fall onto the couch, Calum kneels onto the cushion, hovering above her. Her eyes glitter just a little as she talks and the soft easy smile on her face lets him know that it’s all out of love--what’s she’s saying. The pads of his fingers run along the side of her thigh. “Be lucky I love you.”

“I am already lucky, so say what you gotta say. Roast me, my love. It’s not like we don’t do that anyways.”

And truth be told, Calum had no response. Not when he looks at her, because God all he sees is the person that’s been with him on his bad mental days. She’s been there when Calum was sure there was no lower low or higher high. And what do you say to that person that’s been there, seen all of you that there is to see? With a gentle and chaste kiss, Calum settles for silence.

“Cat got your tongue now, huh?”

This--this Calum can respond too. It’s all too easy. “I know what else my tongue can have.”

“I know something your tongue can have too.”

“Really now?” Calum asks, dragging his fingers over the top of her thigh and tracing the line of her lounge shorts. “Food will be here in fifteen minutes though. So that’s up to you.”

“Not nearly enough time to savor it. Besides,” she starts and takes a pause. Her lips pull into a side smile and Calum knows what that means. One brow quirks in anticipation and Calum watches her. The silence settles for a little too long.

“Besides what?” he prompts again.

“Besides, I need the mail to be delivered first.”

“What did you buy?”

“You’ll see later. I promise. It’s really not even supposed to be used for lingerie. But I’ve wanted these for a long time and I specifically have a set I’m trying to complete.”

There’s the black mesh set that she’s slowly been building out. The main piece came in weeks ago, at this point it might even be months ago that that came in. He was privy to it then and gave it the christening that it deserved. But there wasn’t any other lingerie set that needed expansion. Not at least to his recalling. “Which one is it?”

“I’m not saying.”

“Oh please,” he whines, dropping his head into her neck. His lips softly and slowly seal kisses into her warm skin.

“No, Calum. I’ve been waiting on this package for weeks. It got held up in customs and I-” she sighs at his lips sucking at her skin. Not hard enough to cause a bruise, but just enough to make her spine tingle. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”

Calum pushes up, with a huff, sitting back down on the opposite end of the couch. “This is killing me, you know?”

“Well, you ain’t dead yet. So I think you can tough it out for a little bit longer.”

“Begrudgingly--I want you to know that.”

She sits up, swinging her feet to the floor. “Your sacrifice will be duly noted. The mail will be here before you know it.” The couch releases her weight and Calum watches her pad into the kitchen. “Do you want anything?” she calls.

“I’m good,” he returns, knowing that he will be counting down the seconds until the mail comes. She returns with a glass of water, sitting back down on the couch, but bringing her feet up underneath her as she motions to the TV. “You watching that?”

Calum answers with a shrug. He wasn’t anymore. He originally turned it on mostly for the weather and some news. He found himself bored and flipping through channels before settling on the sports channel while he took care of Duke in the morning. Noise to fill the space since his brain needed the distraction. He hadn’t slept all that great the last few nights, decent sleep. The closer and closer the band got to putting out music the more his nerves kicked in--sometimes they were sneaky. The nerves come up faster than Calum had anticipated. And right now, they won the first round. But Calum was working hard to combat them so he could get about his daily life.

“Go crazy,” he finally verbally responds. And she picks up the remote, changing channels too fast for Calum to even understand how you could process what was on before decking it was a no. She eventually settles for HGTV--not quite caring what show was on. 

The first knock that comes to the door is the food that Calum ordered for the two of them. He answers it, popping up in the hopes it’s the mail. When it’s not, he sighs just a little but places the bag down onto the coffee table. “Your nugs, my queen,” he teases.

“Thank you, my good sir,” she returns with a grin, opening before divvying out what is for who. “You wouldn’t have happened to shot up like a bat outta hell because you wanted that to be the mail?”

Calum feels the heat in his cheeks, but bumps her shoulder gently. “No, why would I ever want that?”

“Oh I don’t know,” she scoffs in return, dunking a nugget into the sweet and sour sauce. They share a soft bout of laughter before turning their gaze back to the TV. Duke’s paws click as he ventures into the kitchen for a drink of water from his bowl. The lapping and splash of his tongue echoing just slightly as the screen goes dark between the show and the commercial break.

Calum lifts his gaze, taking in the soft angle of her jaw. She curls up around the carton of fries, eyes glued to the screen. Does she even have the slightest clue what she does to him? It’s not even the involved things like dressing up for him, or comforting him. It’s just her, when she’s munching on fries. Or when she sleepily walks behind Duke in the mornings. It’s when she hums as she cooks. It’s the dancing she does when she’s cleaning. It’s the pouts when she messes up on something and her brow furrows in as the determination settles onto her face.

It’s when she fucked up a birthday cake for him once--not greasing the sides of the pan enough and then adding a tad too much milk--called him crying about it and then in a minute flat resolved to make him brownies instead. Because she said she’d be damned if she didn’t make him something sweet to nibble on or pass along to the guys. And Calum’s not even that much of a sweets guy, which she knew, so she only settled on giving him half the batch she made. She, of course, saved the other half for her and her friends.

And it’s just the moments that she’s not even trying that makes Calum melt. Like when she paints her nails, she offers to do his first. Or when she lays down next to Duke, and in their shared silence, they seem to communicate everything with each other.

“I love you,” he states.

She turns, eyes widening for a second before grinning around her sip of iced tea. “I love you.” Her brows furrow just a little. “You okay? You’ve hardly touched your food.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.”

“If you didn’t want McDonalds, I could’ve done something else. Literally anything else,” she continues on almost as if she hadn’t heard him.

“It’s not the food,” he giggles. Calum reaches out to caress her cheek. “I’m okay.”

She nods. “Okay.”

“I just love you, that’s all. Wanted to share it with you.”

Her grin is soft as it lifts her lips. “Good because you’re not getting rid of me that easy.”

“I wouldn’t dare dream of getting rid of you.”

Another silence envelopes them. Calum finishes his food and takes the empty containers to the trash. Another episode starts up from the speakers and just above it, he hears the chime of his phone. “Do you want me to screen it for you?”

“Yes please!” If it’s one of the guys, they won’t mind her answering. If it’s someone important, he doesn’t want to miss the call.

“Calum’s phone,” she answers but he can already hear her feet shuffling to him in the kitchen. “Okay, Ash. I’ll keep that in mind.” Her voice comes closer and Calum shakes his hands just a little to get rid of the excess water before drying them. “No, I can’t say what it is without taking a look. Did you use the soil I recommended last time?” Another pause comes from her and when Calum turns, he finds her leaning up the kitchen counter, phone halfway pulled down but not fully away from her ear. “Yeah, I definitely think you should consider changing soils. But I can take a better look tomorrow for you. I’m going to pass along the phone now.”

She hands the phone over. “He said it was important.”

“Thank you,” Calum says in a whisper, pressing a kiss to her forehead and then placing the phone to his ear. “Yeah, Ash?”

Calum’s not even sure how long the conversation goes on. At first, it is important information that Ashton’s trying to confirm--a date and time for a meeting that they had later in the week. He says he wrote it down where he writes down all their meetings but it’s not there. And Ashton’s trying to make sure that he doesn’t miss it. So Calum shuffles to his office and verifies in his calendar the time for the meeting.

But then the conversation diverges--they start talking about everything and anything. So much so, they’re laughing. Calum doesn’t even hear the knock at the front door. But he does notice her scurrying off into the bedroom. The door closes with a soft click. Duke comes trailing after her but notices the closer door and then keeps down the hall to the office. Calum reclines back in his seat trying to get another angle at the door. But it’s closed fully.

“You okay, gramps?” Calum asks Duke.

“Oh fuck off, mate!” Ashton laughs.

“Not you, you fucking egg. Duke--I was talking to Duke.”

“Oh!” Ashton giggles. “Sorry, I thought you was trying to talk shit.”

“I don’t have to try and do that to you.”

“Oi, don’t start something bro.” The two of them laugh and Calum bends down to scratch behind Duke’s ears. “Alright, thanks for confirming that meeting. I’ll see you tomorrow in the studio?”

“Yeah--bright and early. Talk to you later.” The call ends and when Calum spins around in his desk chair, his jaw drops as she steps out from the bedroom. It’s not exactly something new--as in something that she’s never worn before. But it doesn’t mean he ever gets tired of seeing her like this.

The white bustier pushes her breasts up and almost over the cups. And he travels the look down, taking in the baby blue skirt, fishnet knee highs. And he goes back up, taking in a black strap wrapping around her thighs. She notes the lustful gaze and steps right on the line of the threshold to the door.

“So,” Calum starts, trailing his gaze down and then back up to her face. “Not the black lingerie I was anticipating.”

“No, I’m waiting for the heels I want for that lingerie to go on sale. Besides, you didn’t like the collar I liked so I’m still searching.”

“It wasn’t that I didn’t like it. It’s just too similar to one we already bought.”

“You’re right, but still.”

Calum cracks a smile at the reluctant confession. “But enough about that. This--this is a cute outfit.”

She nods, smoothing out the pleated mini skirt. “It’s less about the outfit and more about these,” she says, tapping at the thin black band.

“And those are?” Calum asks. It’s one step closer into the room and Calum think he can make out a heart shaped metal loop in the middle of it. She takes a second step closer and Calum can see clearly it’s some sort of thigh garter--leather or something related as the material. “Oh,” he breathes.

She continues slowly to approach Calum and when she’s just in arms reach, she lifts the skirt up. It goes up inch by inch and Calum’s entranced. Watching more of her thighs revealed to him. And soon it’s black panties--mesh and if Calum remembers correctly crotchless. But wrapped around her waist is another band of leather. Two pieces hook to another metal hoop right on her hip bones and then one trip connects the top piece to the bottom.

“A harness garter belt--what do you think?” she asks in a whisper.

Calum exhales, desire stirring in the pit of his stomach. He reaches out, wrapping his fingers around her thighs and pulling her into him. He kisses in the spaces between the leather, gingerly, lips hardly touching her skin. “I think you look beautiful,” he hums, dropping his head on his neck to look up at her.

Her eyes are still closed and Calum softly runs the tips of his fingers up her thigh, tracing the lines of the harness. With a deep exhale, she finally blinks back to reality. “Not too silly?”

His brows meet in the middle of his face. Why would she think it’s too silly? There’s nothing silly about her standing in front of him, clearly excited about her own purchase. “Angel--I’ll be damned if I ever think this is silly.”

Swinging her leg over and settling onto his lap, she grins. “Thank you, love.”

Calum holds onto her hips, rubbing his palms down to her ass. “So you said this technically isn’t lingerie?”

“No--I don’t think so. But I think they could be--a small accessory to something I already have.”

They share a kiss, much too quick for Calum’s liking so he pulls her back in for more. And her arms wind around his neck as he continues to palm her ass. Here, he doesn’t really care what it is technically or not. She looks absolutely amazing. “I like it. In fact,” Calum starts, moving to grip her thighs before housing them both up and then plopping her down on the desk. “I really like them.”

Calum stands between her legs, nose brushing and bumping against hers. Here, she can feel her core aching as Calum’s fingers trail closer and closer to her heat. It’s feather light--his touch, but it makes her feel electric all the same. “Cal,” she hums.

“Yes baby?”

There’s nothing that comes out of her mouth but a small huff, a rushed and harsh exhale at the feeling of his fingers dancing across her skin. He grins pulling back just a little to see the way her face goes slack, almost as if she’s at peace with him between her legs.

“Was there something you wanted to say, darlin’?” Calum tries again, taking just a half step back away from her.

With her eyes still closed, she smiles. “I want to know,” she starts, exhaling softly to counter the thud of her heart in her chest, “if you’d so kindly want to make love to me?”

Calum can’t help his own small tuft of laughter. “Darlin’, I’d do so happily.” They don’t always wind up in bed like this--but it’s nice, to be comfortable even to be this forward with this and this open.

Calum takes her hand as she hops down from the desk. “Give me a twirl,” he asks. She obliges, turning in a circle for Calum, punctuating the back view by lifting her skirt up. “Silly girl,” Calum laughs, giving a firm but playful tap to her ass.

Facing Calum again, she wraps her arms around his torso. “But you love it.”

“I do. I love you.”

They share another kiss and she slowly walks backwards out of the room. They get lost in each other--Calum in the way she fits against him and her in the way Calum holds her, palms spanning across her back and tight enough that she wonders if he thinks she’s going to disappear but gently enough at the same time that she’d love nothing more than staying here forever in his hold.

Calum finds the zipper to the top and slowly drags it down. The material exhales, slowly falling away from her body and when it falls to the floor, he kisses her neck, down to the swell of her breast. Her moans are soft, just above a hum that makes just enough noise for him to hear. And it goes right to his gut.

Here there's very little need for words. When Calum gives, she takes happily. But when she tugs at his hair, Calum knows to step back, lets her give something to him. Her kisses are soft against his skin, but make him feel like it’s being set on fire. One that he’d happily stay in, let the blaze consume every inch of him, if it meant that she was always the one to take him.

His shirt goes to join hers. Her mouth teases his nipples as she descends further down on him. Calum thinks he sighs, all he can do is just shut his eyes and let go into the feeling of her teasing the cut of his hips beneath the sweatpants. She’s always like this, teasing him. At first, it used to annoy him. But now he loves it, loves just how close she’s willing to push him to the edge, push his buttons but always delivering at the end of it.

Her meticulous work, to watch him jump at every scratch of her nails and nip of her teeth, is enjoyable. But Calum blinks open his eyes to cup her jaw, which stops her. When her gaze lifts, Calum motions for her to stand. “Yes?” she grins standing to her full height.

Calum presses their foreheads together. “I missed you.”

“Well how dare I keep a man like you waiting?” With a slow kiss, tongues just barely dancing, Calum walks the two of them to the bed. The back of her knees hit the edge of it and she buckles just a little. Calum catches her from falling. “Turn around,” he whispers into her ear, “please.”

The instruction is obeyed and she spins to face the bed. Calum finds the zipper to the powder blue skirt and almost doesn’t want to take it off her. In the end, he does-- Calum lets the skirt fall onto a pool at their feet. Without even prompting she falls to her hands, ass grinding against his hips. He traces her spine with the pads of his fingers, following all the way down, over the curve of her ass and down to the opening in the panties. His fingers gather a bit of her arousal.

“Oh,” he groans. “So wet for me,” he hums with approval.

“Always for you,” she sighs. Calum teases her clit--a featherlight touch as he dances over her core. She lets herself fall a little bit more into the mattress--another moan leaving her lips when Calum takes one finger down from her clit to teasing her entrance.

Calum pulls away, bring his wet fingers to his lips and sucking them clean. “Taste just like heaven,” he hums. He gingerly guides her back to standing and uses her hips to get her to face him again.

More kisses are shared before they fall onto the mattress. Calum takes hold of one of the straps around her thigh and tugs her down, closer to him and she laughs. It gets caught off and morphed into a moan as Calum’s tongue licks a wide stripe up her. He’s careful of the mesh material of her panties, but knows that carefulness won’t last long. Not when her arousal coats his tongue. Not when her nails scratch over the muscles of his shoulders or tangle into the curls on his head.

She melts under the work of his mouth. The mattress merely becoming the vessel to hold the mess she’s bound to make and become. The room echoes the moans and slurps. Fingers gripping at the sheet, she chants Calum’s name. His tongue working magic over her core and just when she thinks she couldn’t possibly handle anything more, she notices the stretch at the addition of his fingers.

“Fuck,” she whines, lifiting one leg and he slips in even deeper, curling his fingers and hitting just the right spot.

Calum hungers for her pleasure--the high-pitched whine and groan as she releases. Some days it’s just the sound he needs to ground him. She gives short and breathless huffs, and quivers underneath him. “Gonna be a good girl?” Calum asks, fingers still pumping at her.

“Yes, oh yes, I will.”

“Gonna cum for me?”

“I want to, yes I’ll come for you. Make me your good girl.” Her voice sounds far away, as if she’s not fully cognizant of what she’s saying. Not quite babbling, but definitely talking so fast words bump into each other and slur together.

Calum grins, sucking at her clit again and she groans, head throwing back against the pillows. Her toes are curling--her whole body growing warmer with the passing second. The heat coils in her lower gut and she’s pleading. Though, she’s not sure who she is really meaning to plead to, but she wants to cum so badly.

Then it finally happens, one moment she’s sure she’s nearly in tears and the next, the coil snaps. She squeezes, hips raising off the bed and Calum continues to ride out her orgasm, gently pressing her back down into the bed. She hisses and starts to push at his shoulders, the signal that it’s too much. So Calum places one last kiss to her clit before pulling away from her glistening core.

Beneath him, eyes fluttering close, she looks angelic. Calum holds himself up above her and just watches the way she tries to collect her breath. “You’re beautiful, you know?” he whispers, not wanting to shatter the silence.

“No kidding?” she teases, winding her arms around his neck. The necklace dangles just a little in her face and she takes one hand to trace the chain. Hooking her fingers into it, she tugs Calum down to her. The taste of her arousal on Calum’s tongue makes her head spin. Calum caresses her side and stomach as the kiss deepens. Here is all they need--the soft and deep kisses, the moans that they swallow from each other.

Her hands leave from around his neck and begin to push down his sweatpants and underwear. And he lets her, even pulls back to kneel on his knees as she sits up. Their kiss hardly breaks and she’s quick to tug the cotton material down, hands wrapping around his length.

He groans at the squeeze--nothing too hard just enough pressure to make his whole body ignite. Her hand pumps him, once, then twice slowly and teasing him. “Baby,” he sighs, relishing the feeling of her hands working over him. The stay like that only for a minute or two before Calum pauses her to step down and full disrobe.

When he climbs back onto the bed, he crawls over her. “Welcome back, handsome,” she greets.

“Oh, it’s so good to be back,” he returns, grinning.

She runs her fingers over the tattoos decorating his chest, out of habit, out of something to ground her for a moment. There’s no way he’s real and it shouldn’t ever shock her like this. But sometimes it sneaks up on her and the realization of how madly in love she is with his man hits her all over again.

“What are you thinking about?” Calum asks.

“How much I love you,” she answers softly.

“I love you too,” he returns, bending down to kiss her. It’s soft and sweet--the kiss. For a moment, they just inhale the breaths of the other. It’s a tender moment, one that neither one wants to interrupt, so they let it linger, smiling at each other. She stretches up to kiss him, one hand trailing between their bodies and Calum catches the hint all too quickly when she traces along his length.

“I haven’t forgotten, love,” he exhales in a breathy laugh. “Trust me, I could never forget.” Once lined up, Calum’s slow to sink into her. One, he wants to drag this out, enjoy every inch of him that she grips of him. And two, because he wants to make sure that even in the lull that she’s ready to take him.

Her head falls back, hair pushing into the pillow and neck exposing itself to him. A tempting sight but Calum loses himself in the feeling of her wetness. He’s slow, pulling out just a bit before sinking further back into her. Her sighs and words of encouragement are soft from beneath him but they fuel him.

The pace quickens and both of them groan at the ecstasy. Out of reflex, she lifts one leg to readjust her hip flexor and Calum brings it up, resting her ankle on his shoulder. He kisses over the joint and the anklet, savoring just how much of her he can feel like this.

The chain dangles in her face, brushing in the valley of her breast and she revels in the feeling of Calum reaching the full depths of her body. She digs her nails into his flesh, more curses falling from her lip. But some of them get lost in the groans that win out. “God,” she huffs. “You’re everywhere.” And though it’s a bit of strain to get the words out because Calum’s pace is relentless as he snaps his hips into hers, she pushes the words out.

“You always take me so well,” he praises, watching the way her face contorts. “Oh, so soon, love? You’re going to cum again for me so fucking soon, like a good girl.”

Her whine slips out first but she nods, feeling the coil tightening yet again in her lower abdomen. Her body is hot, and she can already feel the prickle of sweat on her forehead. “Please, baby, please,” she begs.

“As you wish,” he hums, his own orgasm approaching faster than he anticipated. His body humming as the warmth spreads. The bed rocks just a little, hitting the wall and the sounds echo around them as they sigh and moan to each other. But the only thing that really matters to them, is each other.

“Fuck, baby,” he whispers, voice straining as she orgasms. No noise comes from her, but her mouth opens like if she had the breath she’d definitely be screaming his name. This time the quakes last longer, her whole body shaking. “You’re okay, you’re okay,” he hums, bumping his nose against her jaw, still riding through her orgasm.

“Shit, oh my god,” she shudders, wrapping her arms around his neck.

There’s a slight hiss when Calum moves again, and he kisses over her face, starting with her nose and then moving to her cheeks. Another quake takes her and Calum, not anticipating it, groans-- his orgasm now right on the edge. It won’t be much longer, but she nibbles at his earlobe. “Thank you,” she whispers. “Made me feel so fucking good. I want you to cum in me. So fucking deep,” she hums.

And while Calum’s trying to get his own rebuttal to the tip of his tongue, she squeezes around him. “Fuck,” he yelps just a little, his body erupting with his orgasm. His body shudders and he’s so blindsided by the feeling, his slips just a little, more of his weight settling onto her than usual.

She doesn’t say anything, just hums at the feeling of him succumbing to the pleasure. “Oh, that’s what I wanted,” she encourages. It leaves her throat like a purr and Calum shivers again at the sound.

They lay together, for a moment, her nails scratching lightly at the muscles in his back. Calum sinks into her, body going heavy. Her slight shift squeezes around him and he groans, sensitive. “Don’t--I can’t,” he laughs.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to.” Even her own voice sounds heavy and slurred. She kisses his temple and Calum pushes up. He’s slow to pull out, enjoying the drips that follow of his own release spilling out of her. With one finger he gently scopes it back up and into her. The familiar twinge of desire pulls at his lower gut and it’s almost enough. She even shivers, but Calum watches the way her eyes stay closed.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Sleepy now,” she returns.

“Let’s get cleaned up first and then we can nap.” His voice sounds farther away towards the end of the sentence and she assumes he went to the attached bathroom. The rush of water from the sink confirms it. Something wet and warm presses against her--no doubt Calum with a warm washcloth.

The clean up is swift as both of them share a shower and then under the sheets, they curl up around each other. Calum kisses the top of her head as she nuzzles in closely. “I want pancakes after our nap,” she mutters.

“I think we still have some blueberries.”

She pops up onto her elbow and grins a little. “It’s like you can read my mind.”

Calum laughs. “Maybe just a little bit.”

#calum hood #calum hood fic #calum hood smut #calum hood fluff #calum hood imagine #calum hood blurb #5sos #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #5sos imagine #5sos smut #h writes #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer fanfic #5 seconds of summer smut #5 seconds of summer fic

[mystic-wolf]

first time with the boys // aoba johsai

Here's aoba johsais version for you thirsty thots. (Fun fact oikawas first time is based on my first time lmao)

Tooru Oikawa

You're his first.

This man is the king of flirting but boy kept his virginity for someone special. Aka you!!

You'd of been flirting for so long and dancing on the edge of being in a relationship, both of you two scared yo fully commit.

Got drunk at a Halloween party and he eventually just mumbled out how much he likes you and wants to be your pretty boyfriend.

Ofc you said yes.

He'd dressed as a devil with spikey red horns and you as an angel. He looked adorable tbh.

Carried you home on his back and nearly dropped you trying to climb the fence.

Stumbled upstairs smothering each other in kisses and fell onto the bed in a mound of giggles.

You were both still a little tipsy but he'd ask if he could fuck you in your costume cause you look so hot. Of course you said yes and fumbled around in your purse for a condom.

He'd gotten all cocky saying how you'd planned this and couldn't resist him so you just smacked his cheek with the packet before tugging his pants and boxers down.

This man is packing, he knows and he's proud.

Makes a joke about how lucky you are to have him before you shove his shoulders down onto the bed and he loses the attitude.

Becomes a whining mess when you slide onto his cock.

His nails scratch at your thighs, the bedsheets, tug through his hair. Anything to try and cope with the immense pleasure.

Cums super early. He's never felt anything like this in his entire life.

Calls you princess when he cums.

He'd eat you out with his cum still inside you, just wanting you to experience the same amount of pleasure he did.

Looks up at you between your legs with those stupid devil horns on and tells you to cum for him.

You two just lie there for nearly an hour kissing and cuddling before finally moving to take a shower and get rid of your dumb costumes.

Hajime Iwaizumi

You've both got experience when you finally sleep together.

Iwa's a little shit and flirts to no end for months until you end up grinding up against him at a nightclub and he loses it.

Has a hard on immediately and you'd just press your ass even harder against him, pretend you're too drunk to realise.

He'd wrap his hand around your throat to pull you flush against his body and mumble how he's gonna destroy you when you get home.

Literally all you think about the entire night until hes pulling you into his apartment and lifting you off your feet to press against the wall.

His hands grab at your ass and he digs his fingers in stupidly hard until you cry out in pain and he fucking laughs against your lips.

Tells you how hard he's gonna fuck you and how you won't be walking straight for a week when he's done with you.

Practically throws you on the bed as he starts to strip and tells you to do the same.

You rip your dress a little trying to unzip it and throw it somewhere across the room.

Iwa slides his knee between your thighs when he kisses you and you can't help but grind down against his muscled thighs. He makes a joke about you getting off just from that.

Replaces his knee with 2 of his fingers and eats up all the noises you make. You moan at how good it is, how talented he is with his fingers.

Iwa loves the praise.

He guides one of your hands to his cock and it looks so dainty because of how big it is.

You get him to full hardness and ask next time this happens if he'll face fuck you.

He's too lost in you wanting a second round to answer and just roughly presses his entire length into you.

You cry out and scratch at his shoulders a little until the hot pain starts to fade and then demand he fuck you into next week.

And this boy delivers.

He puts your ankles on his shoulders, one hand wrapped around your pretty neck as he rails you into the bed sheets.

You feel like he's fucked your brains out because all you can do is lay there cross eyed and mouth open in a constant string of moans.

You're already close but when his thumb starts to rub at your clit you lose it.

You shake against the bed and his body, tongue poking out and eyes fluttering shut as he fucks you through your orgasm.

So full of himself he'd just carry on and say how good he is and how lucky you are to have his cock. And even in your dumbed out state you'd weakly fight back and say he should be thankful he gets to fuck someone so pretty.

You just smirk and tell him to cum for you and by God does that get to him.

Squeezes your throat so tight when he cums and leaves tiny bruises against your skin.

He'd be super apologetic after and ask if you was okay and he'd be floored when you said you wanted him to do it again.

Afterwards you'd just lie in his bed in your underwear sharing a beer with him.

Issei Matsukawa

You both have experience, him moreso than you as he's older.

He'd seen you around college campus and got absolutely infatuated with seeing you everyday and what skirt you'd be wearing.

Got the courage to speak to you one day when you was sat on a bench doing work.

You'd become fast friends and spent a lot of time together and being horny 21 year olds it eventually lead to hooking up.

Brought you back to his dorm and dragged you too his bedroom before you could comment on the horrendous mess.

He hates his dorm mates right now.

He'd push you onto your hands and knees on the bed and nearly rip your thong when he pulls it to the side to stick his tongue against your ass.

You drop your head into the pillows to muffle the surprise.

He'd slip two fingers into your cunt and eat your ass until you're practically screaming for him to stop and just fuck you.

He's a tease and a huge dom though so he'd make you beg for him until he's satisfied.

You'd turn around so you're on your back and spread your legs, pushing your own fingers inside and grabbing one of you boobs through your shirt.

He'd let you have your fun for a moment and then rip your hands away and pin them to the bed.

Calls you a little whore.

He'd pull his shorts and boxers down just enough to pull his cock out and thrust in so hard he pushes you up the bed.

He's so fucking big and he wouldn't give you time to adjust and just fuck you relentless into his mattress.

You'd scratch at his shoulders and back, feeling blood catch under your nails.

He kinda gets off on that.

He makes sure you're super close before he cums so he can time it right. He really wants you to cum when he's spilling into you.

Best orgasm ever.

You'd just be a dead weight on the bed and he'd laugh and joke about you needing to leave before his roommate comes home.

Hes kidding of course and texts him to swerve for the night.

Helps you clean up and lets you pick out a movie on his laptop whilst he orders McDonald's.

You cuddle into his naked chest and share chicken nuggets.

Yutaro Kindaichi

You're his first.

Baby would be so nervous and shy whenever you touch him. He'd always ask if the lights could stay off even when you just gave him a handjob.

Definitely happened when he graduated.

He wanted it to be a special occasion when he said he was still a virgin and that he wanted you to take it.

You have to constantly reassure him and give him complements, sometimes he still feels he isn't good enough for you.

Asks if you can take control and show him what to do.

Please be gentle with him he's super nervous even though he wants it to happen.

You'd slip his jacket off and start kissing his neck and exposed collar bones so softly before stripping him of his shirt.

You spend so long just sat in his lap on the edge of the bed pressed against his chest and kissing him softly before he bites your lip and asks if you'll strip for him.

You try to put on a little show put end up tripping taking your socks off and he's just all giggles and smiles. Makes him feel less nervous too.

Asks you what position you prefer and you just push him onto his back and straddle his hips. He gets the idea.

He's ridiculously sensitive and asks if you can go slow he doesn't bust a nut in 3 seconds.

Touches you all over when you start to slowly move. He squeezes your thighs, your hips your boobs, just anything he can fit in his hands.

Even going slow he'd cum pretty quick, you just feel so good wrapped tight around him.

Tries to cover his face when he cums but you grab his hands before he can so you can see his face. His eyes are scrunched shut, cheeks flushed and hair sticking to his forehead.

He looks like an angel tbh.

You'd finish yourself off because he'd be too spent to even pull out of you let alone move.

He goes all soft and shy again when you clean up and pulls you between his legs so you can cuddle your back against his chest.

Says how much he loves you and kisses the side of your neck.

Kentarou Kyotani

You're each others first.

This boy is so blunt and clumsy he'd just be making out with you on his bed and just ask if you want to have sex.

You say you do and get a little nervous saying it'll be your first time and he's just all chill like yeah me too babes.

Kisses your fears away and slowly strips you of your clothes.

He'd just stop and stare and get lost in how gorgeous your naked body looks spread across his bed.

Kisses down your body and settles between your thighs until you start whining for him to strip too.

He wastes no time in doing that.

Kisses the inside of your thighs and traces his finger across your skin.

He loves when you start whining quietly and ask him to do something.

Saves you the embarrassment of making you say what and slowly runs his tongue across your cunt and runs circles into your hip bones.

Definitely growls against you because the noises you make are going straight to his cock.

He's already half hard and dripping.

He'd tease you a little and whisper dirty things against your ear as he gets himself fully hard to your breath against his cheek.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him into a kiss as he pushes in.

You bite his lip at the sudden pain and he doesn't start to move until you say so. He's a good boy.

Fucks you so slowly in fear of hurting you because he's pretty big and its your first time.

He sucks bruises into your neck and circles his thumb on your clit until you're writhing underneath him.

Your nails drag down his back and draw blood when you cum with a cry on his name.

That just spurs him on even more as he fucks you through your orgasm saying how amazing you are and how much he loves you before he pulls out and cums onto your chest.

Licks his own cum off your breasts and nips both of your nipples slightly which gets you laughing.

You both fall asleep naked and sticky under the sheets.

#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #oikawa x reader #iwazumi x reader #kindaichi x reader #kentarou x reader #matsukawa x reader #mine

[seijoh-apologist]

stupidly in like with you | miya atsumu

pairing: post-timeskip!miya atsumu x f!reader word count: 14.6k (OOPS LMFAO) genre: friends to lovers, fluff, hurt(?)/comfort, and like a few too many pages of fluffy smut -- third person pov for the most part. NSFW. synopsis: Atsumu and Y/N are good friends, maybe feelings are involved but Y/N isn’t his type. OR Y/N and Atsumu are most definitely in like with each other but for whatever reason aren’t dating.

A/N: hi so this is my first “published” hq fic but like here is this thought that I had and haven’t been able to get it out of my head. it’s mostly edited thanks to my irl friend but bare with my run on sentences and (slightly excessive) use of profanity. any feedback would be appreciated b/c I have more thoughts for other characters and I'd love to share haha. 

To say Y/N was annoyed was an understatement.

Aching feet begged for relief, the sweat-soaked shirt, though cute, had begun to cling to that one fold in her side that made her the slightest bit hyper aware of the “stress weight” she swears she's put on during the holiday season. And the music was absolute shit, shuffling between mash-ups of the Top 100 trending songs and some weird EDM-Indie music that she would pay good money to never hear again.

To put it plainly, she was not in the mood to be out of her home, much less celebrate. But she had agreed to come out, never being able to say no to Sakusa, who silently pleaded with his eyes to take on “babysitting” responsibilities of his teammates for tonight. He had paid for her dinner several times before tonight, claiming that she should save her money - “you should spend your money on getting a better mattress, so we don’t have to hear you complain about it anymore.” - the least she could do was give him a night to himself, away from the chaos that was the rest of the MSBY team.

Besides, it's not like she was asked to stalk them or anything - they were friends after all, so really it was just like she was tagging along for a night of club hopping, taking shots that she didn’t have to pay for, and simply people watching in between trips to the dancefloor. And normally, she’d be enjoying the night - it's just that of all nights to come out and celebrate, it had to be at the end of one of the most stress-inducing, aggravating weeks of her young adult life.

Checking that it was well after one in the morning, she sipped water from her straw, swivelling to face the crowd from her (stolen) seat at the bar, in hopes of catching the attention of someone in her party that could get the hint that they should probably get ready to go. What she did not expect to find, however, was Atsumu, flitting his eyes away from her figure as he leaned down to talk to a pair of girls. It could just be a friendly gesture, asking him if he was who they think he was and him responding but it sent a less than pleasant feeling in her stomach, so she swiveled back, reaching for her phone in the back pocket of her suddenly too tight pants.

“Fuck me,” she huffs out upon seeing that her phone battery has fallen to thirty percent, which would be just delightful when it would be time to call the ubers home. She could now rule out aimlessly scrolling through Twitter for the rest of the night while waiting for her friends.

“Uh.. maybe slip in a ‘please’ and I’m yours.”

Y/N’s eyes all but bugged out her head at the response that came from her left. The voice belongs to a guy, a very cute guy. The kind of cute guy that you see on Instagram explore page before it refreshes so the chances of seeing him again are nonexistent.She sputters out a delayed apology, double-time since she realized that she’s now taken a little too long to respond to him, to which he laughs and shakes his head.

“Don’t worry about it. I should be apologizing for interrupting you, it's just.... You looked a little lonely over here. Mind if I sit with you?”

“Seat’s all yours... but you’re on your own if those people from before come back to reclaim them.” She hums, sliding her phone back into her pocket and shifting her legs slightly in the direction of his seat.

“Scared of a little fight?” He hums, arching a brow before taking a swig of his beer. He has nice hands. Y/N muses to herself as she watches the stranger’s fingers flex slightly around the neck of his beer bottle. She’s always of the mind that a person’s hands say a lot about them.

“Mmm no… just too tired to defend myself, much less a random stranger.” He laughs at that, nodding his head before replying that “most pretty girls don’t openly say they can fight.”

“Oh you’re cheesy, aren’t you? Nobody straight up tells a girl they’re pretty for no real reason.”

“Actually,” Shifting his beer bottle onto the bar, he holds out his hand to her. “My name is not cheesy, it’s -”

“Y/N! There you are!”

The call of her name makes her jump slightly, before she feels the familiar warmth of a hand on her back. The same hand worms its way to her hip, fingers slipping into that soft fold just above her pants, the warmth of his next words being felt just above her ear.  “Where the hell’ve ya been? Was lookin’ all over the place for ya, Bo and Shoyo were worried ya left without us!”

“Been right here, idiot. We lost our original seats so I’d figure you’d come to the bar at some point and I could’ve waved you down.” She shifts slightly, turning her shoulder back towards the cute stranger with an apologetic look in her eye, to which he smiles and opens his mouth to respond until Atsumu cuts him off again, his hand gripping the back of her neck to make her give him her total attention.

“Right well I’m starving - let's get outta here. Kinda craving your infamous drunk noodles, or maybe a McDonald’s on the way home, yeah?”

Y/N nods slightly, turning back towards the stranger to see that he’s already slinking back into the crowd. Once she fully loses him, she shoves her elbow into the blonde’s side, telling him to “shut it” when he throws out a huff of pain.

“Thank you, ‘Tsumu… could’ve had a different ride home but nooooo.. Needed to come in here with all your glory talking about you being starving despite the fact that you can afford a personal chef.” She huffs out and slides off her stool, but he’s not listening. Instead he’s holding her by the shoulders and pushing her through the crowd, excusing the two of them as she continues to rant and rave at him. Once outside, the pair are joined with the rest of the party, who have called a few separate ubers home. “And to top it off, I know you’re not even listening right now - you never listen to me, Miya. I don’t know how your teammates put up with you… how do you put up with this shit, hmm?”

The group of teammates laugh softly and shake their heads, giving answers that “they get paid” to put up with him, and that Miya Atsumu is actually “a decent friend,” a fact that she knows is true but chooses to ignore when convenient for her. Atsumu just shakes his head with a roll of his eyes, pulling her into the direction of their uber for their journey back to his place. She greets the driver and settles into her seat, as Atsumu calls out behind him something or other to someone. The slam of the door and clicking of seatbelts is what fills the silence in the car, music softly playing from the rear speakers, as Atsumu leans his head back against the headrest.

“So I take it yer coming to stay with me for tonight?”

“Hmm.. don’t have much of a choice now, do I?” She teases to which Atsumu slightly pouts, reaching to knuckle at his eyes that suddenly feel a little too heavy. “You owe me the biggest breakfast fathomable tomorrow.”

“Why’s it that I owe you when I paid for your dinner before going out, paid for your drinks tonight, and am letting you sleep in my bed - which is infinitely better than your cheap ass - hey!” He begins his ranting, which would be cut off by a sturdy flick to the forehead and a slight “hush” before he feels her head rest up on his shoulder.

Y/N and Atsumu had been friends for a little while, when she chased him down the middle of the road, claiming to the public that he was a thief, just because he’d grabbed the wrong umbrella on the way out of the restaurant they were both eating in. He’d tried to apologize, but she traded umbrellas and walked back towards the direction of the restaurant. He had chalked it up to nothing really, just a slight mistake and minor inconvenience for the girl. At least until a certain teammate’s birthday dinner, where said stranger was- only this time sitting and chatting with Sakusa Kiyoomi as if they’d been best friends for forever (which in all fairness, Y/N and Kiyoomi had only been friends since college, where they were forced into a friendship by their roommates, who were hooking up with each other and forced the two on double dates). This second meeting was a sign to Atsumu, a sign that for whatever reason this girl was supposed to be in his life, in some capacity or another - but he did royally fuck it up a second time by trying to flirt with Y/N, who laughed and asked if his opening line was really the best he’d had, before hitting him with an opening line that still makes him flush when he thinks about it today.

The ride to Atsumu’s home isn’t long, but it's long enough for the tiredness to seep into Y/N’s bones, who barely misses the quiet way that Atsumu’s fingers have taken home at the base of her neck, massaging gently at the tenseness he feels under the pads of his fingers.

“Someone’s tired… why didn’t you stay home?” He asks as they turn onto his street, letting his fingers fall away from her as he begins to check that they have everything they need. ”’t’s a good thing yer sleeping over at mine... and no couch for you. Your neck is all kinds of tense. It's a miracle you haven’t complained ‘bout it once tonight.”

“Shh.. you’re so loud for what?” She mumbles while trying to stifle a yawn. “So if I’m not supposed to sleep on the couch then where am I supposed to sleep then, boy genius? The floor?”

“No,” Atsumu answers seriously, brow slightly wrinkled as he reaches for his keys in his pocket. “You’ll sleep with me. In my bed. ‘t’s a cooling mattress so you won’t haffta complain that yer too hot.”

“Miya, last time I slept in a bed with you, you nearly suffocated me. Dunno if I really wanna have to deal with trying to roll you onto your back again.”

“Wait a minute! To be fair, my bed was smaller then so there was less room for the both of us.” He begins, opening the door and shutting it before turning the two of them towards the entrance to his apartment building. “Second of all, it was my first time sharing a bed with someone other than ‘Samu so ya shouldn’t blame me for not having proper sleep manners.”

The first steps into Atsumu’s home consists of the pair kicking off their shoes, debating lightly on who was gonna take over the shower first. Y/N slides her feet into the slippers that are specifically her slippers in his home and slinks off towards the kitchen, as Atsumu peels off his shirt and heads towards the shower. It feels comfortable, almost like a routine, as Y/N gathers eggs and two noodle packets to make them a small meal before bed. Moments later, Atsumu is coming out of the shower, towelling off his hair before settling onto the sofa, clicking on the T.V. as Y/N comes in with the two bowls of noodles. A silent agreement is met when they finish that Atsumu would wash the dishes as Y/N showered, taking a shirt from his drawers to sleep in

She hands him a bottle of aspirin, mumbling around the toothbrush to “take two or so help me.” Moments later she joins him in bed, slipping on a pair of socks that are two sizes too big for her before settling under the plush fabric of his comforter. He shifts over closer to her after tossing his phone on the nightstand, seeking out her form in the now dim room for a small cuddle before dozing off. She willingly accepts him too, sliding her body just under his and buries her face in his skin, still warm from the too-hot shower he is prone to taking in the name of muscle relaxation. He hums slightly as their feet tangle together, silently appreciating the way Y/N so freely indulges his need to touch someone after being touch-starved for so long.

Though Y/N isn’t much like him in that sense - doesn’t have this inherent need to cling to someone before bed, or just hold hands at a store, or hands on the shoulder in a crowded room. Sometimes she will, like now with her nose buried in his neck and her hand rubbing up and down the length of his sturdy back. Normally they won’t do this, both just a little too headstrong to dig into the tightening in their chests when the hug for a moment longer than usual; but tonight Y/N is silently congratulating him on winning the game that has had him stressed for weeks. She feels his lips press softly to the top of her head, a mumble of “good night” leaving his lips as she feels his breaths even out as the moments pass.

This is where Y/N wishes she had the power to pull away - blames moments like this on giving her the slightest bit of hope that they could be more than friends.

It's not that she hadn’t thought about it - frankly she’d spent too much time thinking about it. She could do this… with him.. But every thought is put to bed when she thinks back on this one conversation months ago. Granted she didn’t have the full context of the conversation but it's enough to make her heart squeeze when she sees Atsumu flirt with someone, or shake off his hand when she’s had a particularly sensitive day.

It was just another evening where hanging out after him and the rest of the team being away for a week. They’d ordered in food and drinks had been flowing nicely as the comfortable pair had caught up - it was honestly too homey of a setting in hindsight. His phone rang, the white text of “‘Samu” flashed and Y/N took that as a cue to finally get to the restroom.

“Mhm.. made it back early today - no Y/N picked me up.” He’d been mumbling around a handful of chips, the other side of the conversation mute to Y/N’s eavesdropping.. “Oh shut up, she doesn’t mind and it's not as if we’re dating anyway. It’s.. casual and it works for us.”

And she should’ve stepped into her place next to him, cuddled up into her chest and played the role of the blissfully ignorant idiot. But no, she stayed tucked behind the restroom door, blood pumping and heart beating too loud in her ears. It would seem as though Y/N was a glutton for punishment, a minor thing when thinking about putting herself through a moment of pain for a lifetime of pleasure - but the pain that came with Miya Atsumu’s next words would set her off kilter for a while.

“Besides, she’s not really my type. It’d never work out anyway.”

She had no choice really other than to shut the door. Take some extra time in the restroom than necessary - after all she’d just hear the potential love of her life admit to his twin brother that she wasn’t his type. All she could do really was stare at herself in the stupidly bright mirror in his stupid guest bathroom of his stupidly expensive apartment.  God this is so stupid, she thinks to herself while running cold water to press against her cheeks that she feels are heated up. Before she can really tear her own heart to bits though, she hears a quick rapt on the door.

“Y/N ya’right in there? Warned y’bout putting too much hot sauce on your food.”

But that’d been two years ago. It was a little rough after that; Y/N had thrown herself into finding a life post-grad which was a great distraction from the rumors going around that Atsumu had been spotted with some model or actress or something. Besides, Y/N wasn’t really the type to harp on failed romantic interests - all she’d need to do is download whatever relevant dating app for some validation and she’d be able to move on. However nights like tonight, when he looked too good and the little moment was a little too right - she’d still hope. Make a wish to whatever angle number or shooting star or deity above that she’d get tossed a chance to be in love with the stupid setter, because she had already fallen.

“Mm y’right?” She heard him, how could she not when he’s practically suffocating her. She chooses not to answer though, humming affirmatively - to which he huffs and shifts slightly, settling back into unconsciousness.

Maybe she’d blame the train of thoughts for tonight on the fact that she’d been drinking. However, come morning, the seed would bloom a little brighter in her chest when she wakes up to realize that her face is pressed into his side, arms circling his slim waist and one sock lost among their tangled legs.

---

God she hated him. Miya Atsumu was too much of a lot of things - too much of a sore winner, too much of an idiot, too much of a talker, and most of all, too much of a liar.

For the second time in the span of a month, Atsumu had convinced her to come out, despite her desperately wanting to curl up in bed and binge eat away the stress of the week. Only this time it was a charity event, so she would definitely be the bad guy if she said no. It was an event where him and the rest of his team had been roped into a charity dinner - which (gratefully) meant that Sakusa would be around, and they could fuck off to a corner someplace to talk shit about what all the rich wives are wearing and how bad it looks when their husbands are flirting with the wait staff. But Atsumu had promised that they’d leave before the entree was served - swore the entire drive over that “we’ll get you back home in time, grandma” and that he’d even cook for her this time.

But the entree had been whisked off about forty minutes ago, her wine glass had been refilled twice, and she was bored of watching Sakusa look at his watch, waiting for an appropriate time to leave. Atsumu was a few tables away, chatting up some couple, something about wanting to get their information for Osamu’s business. He would laugh a little too loudly at their jokes, gaining attention of those at surrounding tables - which was only mildly irritating as he had now gathered a crowd of people around him, spewing off some story about him getting lost in Russia the first time they played overseas.

She huffs and stands up, chair scraping slightly, gaining the attention of the rest of the  table. All she does is hold up her wine glass in a feeble attempt at an answer of where she’d be waiting at the bar. If I have to be here, the least I could do is drink for free. The bar is empty, surprisingly no one wants to mope around this very nice dinner.

“What can I get you?”

“Mmm.. whiskey highball, please.” She answers to the unnecessarily cute bartender, but the raise of his eyebrows do not go unnoticed.  And fortunately (or unfortunately) she’s got the time to press him. “Surprised?”

“Only a little bit. Noticed you were drinking wine most of the night so the whiskey is a hard switch.”

“So you’ve been watching me?” She muses, smiling as he places the drink in front of her. He smiles and leans forward on the bar slightly, shaking his head and replying.

“It’s almost as if… I’m being paid to make sure people have their drinks.”

“Oh, so it's not because I’m cute?”

“Now I didn’t say that did I? But you know you’re gorgeous; your boyfriend over there must tell you all the time.” He muses, a smirk playing at his lips as he nods behind her. She all but chokes on her drink when she turns around and sees that the direction he nodded in was directly in Atsumu’s vicinity before shaking her head violently. Atsumu was not going to ruin this for her. “Oh so not your boyfriend?”

“Nope.” She says, popping the ‘p’ as she slips the straw past her lips again, eyes taking in his leaning form. He was cute. His hair was on the silver side of blond, tips of his hair black. He was tall and lean, a piercing hanging from his left ear.

“That’s a shame.” And she gives him her name with a flutter of her lashes and a sweet smile. He returns it, preparing her next drink without her even having to ask. And so they talk, first about how the next person who approaches the bar should be cut off, to how pretentious the whole event was. Two drinks in, Y/N finds herself being invited to a show.

“This whole bartending thing is just a way for me to get some extra cash… I’ve got a gig in an hour. I figured if we leave together now, I can get you home to change outta this and into something a little more… concert fitting?”

“O-Oh.. yeah. I just need to go let my friend know…” She trails off, sliding off her barstool before turning to gracefully power walking to her initial seat next to Sakusa. She huffs and she plots herself down in the char next to him, to which he gives her a look of what the fuck. “I don’t have time to catch you up, but the insanely hot bartender is taking me home. As much as I’d love to get out of here with you, I desperately need to get lai-”

“Going somewhere?” Fuck fuck fuck.

“Didn’t you hear her? The hot bartender is taking her home and she needs -”

“Aishhhh shut up.” She turns to look at her curly haired friend, only to see that he’s got this annoying little smile on his face. She deeply exhales and turns back to Atsumu, who looks less than amused about what his friend said. “Listen, you promised me we’d leave two hours ago. Well you lied so nooow I made plans, so if you would kindly move outta my way.”

“No.” She whips her head up at the blonde. No? What the absolute fuck was he going on about telling her no, despite her not asking for his permission. “You’ve been drinking and you don’t even know the guy - how can you trust that he won’t memorize your address then come rob you or something? I promised to take you home, and since you’re ready now we can leave now.”

“Listen Miya, I appreciate the concern but really I’m a big girl. I can handle a night out by myself with a guy - besides I’m not even that drunk. Now, give me my house keys and move out of my way.”

Suddenly, it's like those cheesy western movies where two cowboys are staring each other down, neither willing to be put down by the other. Except it's this 6’2” pro-athlete staring quite literally down at Y/N, who hits the gym only on a blue moon and spends too much time sitting at a desk. Sakusa has to laugh at the two stubborn idiots in front of him; he knows that Atsumu is going to be able to win this little game that they're playing, but silently applauds Y/N for attempting to stick it to him. Moments pass before Atsumu finally sighs, shoving his hands in the pockets of his expensive suit and pulling out her keys - but he doesn’t give them to her.

“What’s his name? If you can tell me his name I’ll give you your keys and let you go.”

“Let me go? Okay, Dad.” She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest, small clutch dangling from her wrist. “I know his name, Atsumu. I may have had a drink or two but I’m not an idiot to be going off with someone who’s name I don’t even know... it’s… uhm.” And she’s done. She hadn’t even bothered to ask his name, doesn’t even remember whether she gave him hers, nor was she smart enough to notice whether he’d been wearing a name tag.  Mentally she’s cursing herself, chancing a glance behind Atsumu’s shoulder to see the hot bartender chatting it up with another girl. Before she can think too much into it, Atsumu sighs deeply, grabbing his suit jacket off the chair next to her and slipping it on his shoulders, a soft “let’s go” leaving his lips as he nods his good-bye to the rest of the table. Y/N chews at the inside of her cheek before grabbing his arm.

“Give me my keys. I’m not going home with you. I want to be alone.”

---

Four days passed - four days of Atsumu borderline harassing Y/N with apologies. Promising to make it up to her. Which is how she finds herself walking into their favorite local sushi restaurant - it's the only one that has self-serving sushi that arrives on a miniature train, and it's also the only place that they go when apologies are to be exchanged. In the handful of years that they’d be friends, Y/N has needed to apologize to Atsumu thrice - two for blowing him off after overhearing the dreaded words and once for saying that maybe Osamu was the better twin. Atsumu on the other hand, had apologized to Y/N many times - so many times in fact that Y/N is sure that he makes up excuses just so they can come eat at this sushi place.

It’s been a long week for Y/N. The Sunday after the charity event, Y/N wakes up with one of the worst headaches of her life - and its due to the fact that she slept like shit hoping that Atsumu made it home safe since he hadn’t texted her he did. Monday she was handed a stack of documents at work that needed to get done before lunch (which didn’t get done). Tuesday morning was dominated by the fact that some idiot on the train to work had spilt a coffee on her, making her wear the most uncomfortable suit jacket, lest she wear a coffee soaked shirt for most of the day. Today, Wednesday, she’d woken up to a box with a pastry outside her door and a cup of coffee with a sticky note on the lid.

Sorry. Let me make it up to you. Train Sushi? 7pm?

Despite the fact that she was most definitely still thinking about why Atsumu acted the way he did - she still went through the mountain of paperwork on her desk with a little smile, knowing that she’d be getting free sushi and an apology. Maybe if she’s lucky, she can convince him that she needs a crepe on the way home.

As she makes her way into the restaurant that evening, she sees him. His dorito-shaped body is stationed at the bar, a cozy brown coat hugging his back, muscles of his arms being squeezed by the sleeves. She can see that he’s got a drink in front of him and she smiles slightly, stepping up towards the bar but stops momentarily. He’s talking to someone - not just someone, a girl. He’s smiling too. Y/N can’t see the stranger’s face, but judging by the way that she has a hand around his biceps and her head tilted, one can only assume that they know each other. Y/N attempts to step backwards, she wants to let him finish his conversation with the woman but she doesn’t know if she can stomach the idea of watching them flirt; but she misses the step, leading her to bump into the hostess who led her to the bar, creating a bit of a scene.

“Y/N! There you are! C’mere.”

She’s buying time by profusely apologizing to the hostess, who honestly is probably just trying to get away. At this point, Y/N has no choice but to walk towards her friend and this mystery woman. The ten steps towards the pair is enough time for Y/N to mentally list off all the things she could have done in the world to warrant some shitty karma that’s hitting her now. Once face to face with Atsumu, she smiles.

“Sorry - long day at work got me all …” Y/N’s words trail off, the hand that’s not death-gripping her purse waves off with her closing thoughts.

“Don’t mind, Wednesday’s are usually your long days. ‘Sides you’re here now - tha’s what matters.” God he’s so dumb. So handsome and so dumb, and god did she miss him. “It’s a good thing you got here a little late, this is Michimiya Yui. I think you two might’ve -”

“No, I don’t think we’ve met! It’s so nice to meet you - he used to talk about you all the time!” The brunette smiles at Y/N, sticking her hand out, which Y/N takes limply, shaking her hand. She’s pretty, Y/N thinks to herself. Her hair is short and she’s wearing some cute leather thigh high boots, her smile is almost paid-for perfect. She’s got this whole brown smoked out eyeliner working for her, which makes Y/N slightly subconscious about her most likely smudged and uneven eyeliner and less-than appealing work pants. Before Y/N can even think of a response to give, Michimiya has her hand back on Atsumu, a pretty smile settling on her lips. It feels like Y/N is watching a trainwreck happening before her eyes. “I was just telling Atsumu that I was back in town and that we should hang out!”

“And I was just explaining to her that I had plans with yo-”

“You should join us!” Idiot. Why am I such a fucking idiot? Atsumu looks over at Y/N with a wild look in his eyes, Michimiya looks like a child who wound up making out with two candies instead of one. “I had a super long day at work today so I’m really only able to eat dinner, but I know Atsumu can stay up for hours so once I leave you two can hang out.”

“Y/N, I thought that -”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea! I just need to tell the wait staff to cancel my to-go order, so excuse me.”

And so the two friends watch the woman walk away from them, making her way towards the to-go order area. Y/N bites at the inside of her cheek, intentionally avoiding Atsumu’s eyes that she feels are pinned on her. She digs out her phone from her purse, texting Sakusa an ominous “next time you see me, please poison me 😑.” As Y/N drags her eyes up Atsumu’s front, she feels the same way she did when she would get scolded by her parents. His eyes are staring at her face, no doubt wanting to press her about why she willingly invited a stranger to eat with them at their restaurant. To pacify him, all she does is hold up her hand, shaking her head.

“It’s fine, Miya. Like you said, Wednesday’s are my long days so I wouldn’t be able to stay out late with you anyway. Besides…” She starts, fixing a smile onto her face. “I think that she might have a little crush on you!” He says nothing, lips pressed in a hard line and a brow arched up at her. “Don’t look at me like that. And save your apology for next time… we have company.”

The rest of the evening goes exactly like Y/N’s worst nightmare. She is quite literally the third-wheel despite the fact that technically Michimiya was supposed to be the third wheel in this little scenario. Y/N has to watch the pretty brunette flirt relentlessly with Atsumu, who seems blissfully oblivious to the fact that for every compliment Michimiya gives Y/N, she gives herself two more. Sakusa is well informed on the situation, receiving texts every five minutes with another dumb thing that was said in front of Y/N’s appatizers. Rarely does someone ever wish for a natural disaster to hit, but in the last thirty minutes of sitting at this table, Y/N has wished for every biblical curse to wreak havoc in her way.

Despite the fact that Michimiya has hijacked every conversation, Atsumu still tries to ask Y/N about her, including her in the conversation as much as possible. But Y/N stopped trying twenty minutes ago, and is now forcing herself to eat the last few pieces of sushi she ordered - normally she’s a stress eater, but Michimiya has rested her hand on Atsumu’s thigh and Y/N has suddenly never felt more sick in her life. Y/N has never once picked up a tab around Atsumu - “please, ‘ve got more money than I know whatta do wit’it” he’d always tell her when she attempted to take up the ticket - but when they finally wave down someone and ask for the check, Y/N drops some cash on the table and collects her things.

“It’s been so nice to meet you, but I think I should really get going. I’ve gotta get to work early tomorrow - I’ll see you this weekend right, Miya?”

“Wait up, I’ll take you home… Yui it’s been really -”

“No no, really it's okay! You stay! I’ll just text you when I get home. Be safe. And again it was so nice to meet you - take care of Atsumu for me.”

“Oh I will!”

Y/N is not a runner but she’s never sprinted away from a situation so fast in her life. The image of Michimiya’s sly little smile at Y/N’s request to take care of her friend makes her feel gross, tears stinging at the back of her eyes and she settles on the train. Y/N can name a handful of times when she’d seen Atsumu around women - but never once had she’d met someone he was romantically involved with and it hurts. The gentle sway of the train does nothing to settle the spinning of her head with images of what Atsumu actually looks for - his actual type. She feels like an idiot; she should have just told Atsumu that they could do a raincheck, or if she was feeling bold, she could’ve told Michimiya to fuck off. The latter seems possible in the version of herself in Y/N’s head, but the reality was that she was too nice. Always wanted to make the people she cares about happy, and Atsumu looked... happy? Besides, Y/N thinks to herself as she exits the train and makes the trek towards her apartment building, if Michimiya Yui was going to be involved with Atsumu, the more exposure she had to her, the better off Y/N would be in accepting that Atsumu would never ever be with Y/N like that.

Once settled in her apartment, she sends off a quick “home. thanks for tonight!” to Atsumu before making her way to the bathroom. A nice warm soak would surely make her feel better, make her forget about what an idiot she is and maybe, just maybe, make her body relax all the love she holds in her heart for the blond away. Her phone pings, twice, but she ignores it. Ten minutes into her pity soak she hears a bang on her door, which only makes her groan and dunk her head under the water. The banging stops, making Y/N think it was just her neighbor or something asking for a favor. What she doesn’t expect is for her to exit the bath twenty minutes later to see Sakusa Kiyoomi sittin on her couch.

“Hello, glad to see you exploiting your spare key access.”

“Miya called me and said you looked like shit earlier. And judging by your texts throughout the evening, I figured you were on the brink of a breakdown.”

And so she was. She spent the rest of the evening talking Kiyoomi through the night, slipping in all the questions she’s had from the past two times that Atsumu had cockblocked her. And bless Kiyoomi for sitting through her tears, sitting cross-legged and drinking tea that he had initially made for her but refused to let her drink once he realized she had already brushed her teeth. It felt almost like she was finally thinking about what her friendship with Miya Atsumu was, what it could and couldn’t be. Every moment painted so clearly about how Y/N felt for her blond friend, but the only thing missing was how said friend felt about her. At 11:30 pm, two hours after Kiyoomi initially arrived at Y/N’s apartment, she pushed Kiyoomi out the door, eyes puffy but heart and head a little clearer than how they were when he arrived.

Despite promising Kiyoomi that she would not think about Atsumu, as Y/N settles into bed, her thoughts can’t help but wonder what it would be like to be with him. She mulls it over as she slides off her socks, deciding that it’d be nice - probably exactly how they are now, plus a title and a little less swatting his hands away when he reaches for her in public. Y/N can’t help it as she thinks about whether they would kiss a lot - they’ve kissed before, neither strangers to cheek kisses as greetings or kisses at the top of their heads when the other is crying into their chest (there was even that very drunk kiss they shared on New Years Eve when their friendship was fresh that both still have warm cheeks about when they think about). Just as she’s about to go down the path of whether Atsumu would spend more nights with her at her cardboard box of an apartment or her at his, Y/N cuts herself off - after all she wasn’t his type. Tonight proved that more than anything, she thinks.

It’s not like Atsumu has never brought anyone around Y/N - there’d been a few that she’d met, though they were mostly over a facetime call and it was mostly just her waving at them before Atsumu ducked away to have a private conversation. It's not like tonight was the first night Y/N had to swallow the bile in her mouth at seeing someone make heart eyes at Atsumu - it's just this time felt different; almost like Y/N was finally having the truth thrusted into her face. But Y/N isn’t mad or hateful of Michimiya, nor Atsumu for that matter - she’d never been the type to hate a girl for having feelings for the person she has feelings for. It’s annoying, sure, but Y/N doesn’t see the point in hating someone for how they feel - however, Y/N does not make the effort to become friends with these girls, or maintain the close friendship with Atsumu for that matter. Is it petty to put a strain on a friendship out of fear of losing said friendship? Absolutely! But Y/N knows she won’t be able to stomach another night like tonight - another night of seeing Atsumu slip so easily from her fingers into the arms of another. And as observant as Atsumu is, he never fully recognizes that Y/N is avoiding him, at least that what she hopes since more often than he’s able to worm himself back into her life.

---

Following the failed apology dinner, Y/N tried her hardest to give herself a few days without the blonde- made easy by the fact that the weekend after the failed apology dinner he’d be out of town for another tournament. It’s not like she was totally avoiding him, she’d responded to his texts and even answered two of his six facetime calls while he was away, she just wanted a little bit of time to wallow in self pity in her apartment, crying over her comfort movies and eating too many bags of hot chips. But once he was back in the same timezone as her, Atsumu made it impossible for Y/N to fully wallow.

It started when he texted her about their favorite crepe place temporarily closing for some reason or other - he’d tried to convince her to ditch work early that day to come, but Y/N declined with a simple text of “i like my job tyvm.” So what did he do? Pick her up in his flashy sports car that day after work (two hours later than usual since she’d figured he’d do something ridiculous like this) and drove her there, where he didn’t bat an eyelash as she ordered double than what she normally would have (a silent fuck you from Y/N but it didn’t matter since she wasn’t actualy hurting his wallet). She’d been able to tide him off for a few days, as she escaped to her hometown for a weekend - but that did little to stop the mirage of texts he’d sent her, describing in great detail this cool hybrid bookstore-game cafe that he found and thinks she’d like. Instead of responding how she actually wanted, she’d just replied with a half-assed “ahh exciting- sounds cute!” (She mentally grants herself ten nice points for erasing her initially text, telling him to take his “fucking girlfriend”). This must have really struck a nerve with him when the following weekend, he’d dragged her out of bed on Sunday morning to take her to said bookstore-game cafe, even spoiling her by secretly buying a book she’d picked up but put back.

Y/N can’t tell if Atsumu is intentionally ignoring the hints she doesn’t want to see him or if he’s really just oblivious. She also can’t tell if the patter of her heart when he drags her out of bed despite her not wanting to see him is a good thing or not. It’s been weeks since she’d third-wheeled with Atsumu and Michimiya, surely Y/N should have been able to take a little bit of pride in the fact that he was literally chasing her down to spend time with her rather than Michimiya - but before she can even swallow that pill Atsumu shows up at her apartment with the trace of a bruise hiding just below his shirt collar. The small mark on his neck makes Y/N convince herself that this would be the time that she needs a full on Atsumu ban.

Said ban never actually happens, though.

Just as proof that this ban doesn’t happen, today Atsumu has decided that Y/N needs to come shopping with him. For the entire day. Cue the montage of Atsumu banging on Y/N’s door at nine in the morning, breakfast pastries and coffee in hand as Y/N answers in all her morning glory, sleep caked up in the outer corner of her eyes and pajamas haphazardly fixed. Words are exchanged as Atsumu pushes her towards the shower, promising to make up her bed and even take out the trash for her (a chore she put off last night because she’d seen too many people smoking by the dumpsters which scared her enough to make her drag up the two bags of back up the five flights of stairs). As Y/N settles at her desk to work on making herself “the hottest person at the market,” Atsumu settles on her bed, talking a mile a minute about all the things he wanted to get at the market and the possible places they could go for lunch in the area. All she can do is hum, wondering silently why he’d chosen to take the trip with her and not his girlfriend - but she wouldn’t complain.

The market was...fulfilling enough. Surprisingly, Y/N was walking towards the food trucks with more bags in her hands than Atsumu, who followed behind her with one print from a vendor that Y/N convinced him would actually look good in his home office. The pair decided that Y/N was better suited to look for a place where they could park themselves to eat, while Atsumu went off to get them lunch. Before Y/N could make a break for the tables though, Atsumu grabbed her face, thumb swiping at her cheek firmly - it took Y/N every ounce of restraint to not whimper at the unprompted affection.

“Wha-”

“Had some of that jam sample from earlier on your face, dummy.”

“Tsk… why didn’t you see it earlier.”

He just smiled softly, letting the warmth of his hand fall from her face before patting her back towards her initial direction. Frankly, she’d been thrown off her rhythm; they’d touched each other before for fucks sake. So why was this one moment of closeness enough to make her chest feel tight? As she weaved through the tables, she can’t help but hold her hand to where his was, almost as if to preserve the warmth that was now gone. She hummed gleefully as she found a table, making her way towards it and setting up camp. As she settles into her chair, fingers deftly texting to Atsumu where she’s stationed, she sees a shadow come across the table.

“Hey, are you gonna use all these chairs?” He’s cute, almost terribly cute - he’s got this pinkish-blonde hair going on top, an almost shy glint in his gray-ish colored eyes, and an almost self-assured smile pulling at his lips. He was also tall, much taller since Y/N was sitting, but she almost doesn’t mind considering the fact that she is most definitely gawking at him. She shakes her head momentarily, both as an answer to his question and a way to clear her head momentarily.

“Thanks! My friend over there is too precious to sit on the curb, apparently.” He smiles at her, eyes squinting and she’s momentarily breathless at just how cute he is when he smiles. His arms move to grab one of the chairs and that's when she decides to speak up, not wanting to quite end the conversation yet.

“Ahh no worries! I know all about having that too precious friend! I only need one other chair so you can take two of these.”

“Oh cool thanks… and hey this might be a little weird but - fuck are you from Miyagi? You look kinda like this one girl from high school but - “

“I am! I went to Aoba Johsai and -”

He clicks his tongue and seems to smile even brighter now. “That’s right - you’re Y/N right? I think you were a year younger than us right, but you always hung out with that one girl in my year who used to smoke behind the boy’s gym…” Y/N nods, a grimace on her face and the back of her neck feeling a little warm with embarrassment. How could she possibly explain that said girl was actually Y/N’s cousin and that she didn’t actually smoke, she’d just smell like it after working at their family restaurant. “Well I’m Makki, by the way. If you remember Matsukawa and Iwaizumi they're over there - they were at Seijoh too.” She nods, leaning slightly to see the two men behind him, both wearing smiles that were just a little too cheeky.

“Yeah yeah, I remember… you also had a particular whiny one with you too, right?” He laughs at that, responding that said whiny one was actually abroad. The two make a little conversation, her giving him some suggestions on places to visit since one of his trio is actually visiting for the weekend. Y/N thinks this is nice - feels like the main character in a movie with the amount of men that have approached her in the past couple weeks. Before she can get too cocky in her ability to pull though, Atsumu walks up to the table, hands full with a tray that seems to be piled with too many little plates.

“There y’are… couldn’t see you from across the way… everything okay?” Atsumu questions, standing to his full height as if sizing up Makki, who seems completely unphased by Atsumu.

“Yeah, was just asking your girlfriend if I could steal these two chairs away before I realized that we knew each other.” The strawberry blonde is definitely unphased by Atsumu, who’s shoulders visibly relax at Makki’s suggestion that the two friends were together. “Well it was nice seeing you, Y/N! Thanks again for the chairs, you all enjoy your meal.”

As Makki walks away, Atsumu settles into his own chair with a smug little smile playing at his lips. Y/N, on the other hand, is chewing at the inside of her cheek as food is placed in front of her. Her blond friend, the observant little shit, notices that she doesn’t immediately tuck into the lunch laid in front of her and nudges her foot with his, muttering a quick “what's wrong.”

“You were blessed with possibly the worst timing in the world, y’know that?”

“What d’ya mean?” He muses, taking in her huffily pulling the lid off her food and stuffing her face with the rice bowl in front of her.. She chews, combing the food on her plate with the plastic fork as a way to stop herself from unleashing all her frustrations.

“You always but in whenever I start getting hit on! Or you stop every chance I have at possibly getting to know someone; you come in here full force and its really not fair. I don’t do it to you, and it's just not fair.” Y/N hates that she probably sounds like a whining child, but she really can’t help it anymore. It’s really not fair that Atsumu flaunts his conquests on the cover of every magazine, but god forbid Y/N talk to a guy. “Its been a while since I’ve had sex, Atsumu, and it’s getting to a point where I’d jump just about anyone’s bones. I - I just think that as my best friend you should be providing me some support, not cockblocking me at every fucking opportunity you get.”

It takes every fiber in his body to not laugh at how ridiculous Y/N is being right now. He licks at his lip, catching whatever food crumbs he could before clearing his throat. “‘M sorry what? You actually wanna hook up with those guys? They seem like the type to just fuck ya n’ then not text you back.”

“And if that’s what I want then so what!? Did you miss the part where I said I’m desperate here?”

“Then..” He takes a swig at his water bottle in front of him, leaning back slightly in his seat and sliding his sunglasses to rest on the top of his head. “If you need it that badly then you can just do it with me. You said anyone so I can -”

She laughs, one that sounds on the brink of delusion. “You’re fucking ridiculous. Yeah okay… Dunno if you remember but you’ve got a girlfriend, Miya.”

“She’s not my girlfriend, Y/N. We’re… not that serious with each other and we’re also open. She knows that..'' He looks smug, and Y/N wants to smack the absolute life out of him. “And I’m being serious, darlin.. I’d rather get you off than see you get your hopes up over some random.”

Y/N squeezes the poor utensil in her hand, choosing to chomp down one of the buns on the table instead of reminding Atsumu that she wasn’t exactly his type. But she lets it go, just squinting at him and shaking her head, mumbling how ridiculous he is before swiping some of his veggies off his plate. How else is she supposed to react to her best friend blatantly telling her that he’d fuck her if she’d ask - she tries to ignore the way that their knees resting on each other under the table makes her heart soar. Before she can form a sentence, something to steer the direction away from her sex life (or lack thereof), Atsumu mumbles around a forkful of food that she’d better hurry since he wants to do another lap of the market before it closes.

---

Atsumu’s offer and that entire conversation is brought up again a few days later; the pair are in Y/N’s apartment this time. She’d asked him and his brother to come over to install some shelves for her, but apparently Osamu was busy. With the shelves installed, Y/N put on a movie to serve as Atsumu’s entertainment whilst she organized her trinkets. She wasn’t really paying attention to the movie, too concerned with trying to see if the shelves were actually level or not when she heard Atsumu laugh behind her, muting the T.V. with a quizzical brow raised.

“Huh? If you don’t like the movie then you can change it… ‘m not payin atten-”

“Oh yeah not paying attention right?” She gives him a hard look as if proving to him that she can’t honestly give him the plot of the movie. “So you’re telling me that its just a coincidence that this movie is about two friends who make a pact to fuck each other? That it's a coincidence that the literal name of the movie is ‘Friends with Benefits”

She rolls her eyes and turns to face him fully, seeing that he’s now sat up on her couch with his elbows resting on his knees. A beat passes before he puts his hands up, almost as if in surrender, before he pushes himself off the couch and towards the kitchen. She watches him as he pulls out a bottle of wine, nodding to the couch as if asking her to take a break. She relents, folding her legs under herself and pulling at a string on the worn sofa, thinking she’d probably try to replace this piece before she renewed her lease. He thrusts the glass to her, settling into the sofa but he makes no move to unmute the T.V., instead inciting some silent battle while they each sip from their respective glasses.

“Y’know you’ve been snappy lately… my offer from the other day still stands, hope y’know tha’.” She scoffs, choosing to take another swig at her wine, which does little to cool the warmth she feels in her throat. He’s not technically wrong - the conversation the other day had made a fog of tension hang over her, making a long lost desire for the blond resurface in her lower abdomen at full force. She’d spent way too much time the other night on Amazon, debating on whether it would be a good idea to get rechargeable batteries for her toy, spent too long watching his mouth move when he’d facetimed her the other night. It's not that Y/N hadn’t hooked up with anyone since knowing Atsumu, it's just that maybe she’d spent a little too much time enjoying how Atsumu met her emotional needs that she had neglected her physical needs.

“What offer?” She’ll be damned to let him in on the fact that she’d done nothing but think about his stupid offer. Refuses to let him know that she wants, no needs, to say yes. So she plays dumb, finger dancing along the lip of her cup, foot swinging anxiously against the floor.

He hums, reaching to put his glass on her beat up coffee table. He leans his elbow on the back of the couch, placing his chin in his hand, giving Y/N his undivided attention. “‘Samu was talking about how his girlfriend has been on his ass lately about every little thing and so I asked him if they’re doin’ okay, y’know physically… didn’t answer me but I figured he’d solved it if he hasn’t mentioned it since. I heard someone say that if yer girl’s acting fussy then y’need to think about if you’ve been fuckin’ her right and well…” Y/N swallows the lump in her throat, stopping the shiver that threatens to rack her body at the idea of Atsumu thinking she’s his girl. “I was bein’ serious the other day. I know ya were mad so it wasn’t the best time to bring it up, but it seemed like the only good thing to say. Besides, ‘m not all that bad in bed, can ring up a few people if y’need a review.”

Y/N doesn’t respond with anything other than a forced huff of laughter, can't respond really. It feels too warm, she’s hoping that maybe this is some fever dream instead of reality. She just plays with her cup absentmindedly, not quite able to look the blond in the eyes despite the fact that his eyes are studying her face as if she holds all the answer to the questions the universe has. Him being bad in bed is the least of her worries, what if she’s bad? God she wants to say yes, maybe she’ll say yes - maybe it’d be good for her to finally get some di-

“Forget it, ‘m sorry. If it makes you uncomfortable then we don’t have to, sweetheart. I just -”

“I’m not uncomfortable.” Oh now she speaks. He looks at her, a wild look fixed on his face, almost as if he doesn’t believe the words that came out of her mouth. “It's just..” She throws her head back, face covered momentarily by some plant leaves. God she didn’t want to actually voice her thoughts but now she has no choice.

“It’s just what? If yer worried about the fuckin part, I can just get you off other ways. Get paid to be good with my hands -”

“Just shut up for once please, you’re ruining it.” He makes a show of zipping his lips, smiling as Y/N squares herself to him, stretching her neck as if she’s preparing for a fight, rather than speaking a coherent sentence.. “It's just that I don’t… dont wanna force you into thinking you have to ‘cos I’m being bitchy to you.. Like it’s not your problem to fix y’know and I just. Besides, don't wanna be the only one enjoying it, want you to like it too and … for fucks sake this is ridiculous. I just dunno I-”

Atsumu’s hand reaches out towards her, fingers stroking her knee in a comforting manner but it’s all but comforting to Y/N, who’s entire leg feels on fire at this small moment of skinship. “Shh, shh, no baby yer not forcing me to do anything. Don’t think that way - I-I wanna do it! I wan’ya to be happy and if this makes you happy then… And i mean if y’need more of a reason then think of it as a way for me to say sorry for cockblockin’ ya all the time.”

Y/N doesn’t say yes, but she also doesn’t outright decline. She can’t think of anything other than how, if she nodded her head, he’d give her everything she’d been wanting. Atsumu and Y/N stare at each other, moments pass and she’s sure that he’s going to take her stillness and silence as a no - but he just moves to grab her wine glass, moving it from her grasp to the table, shifting closer to her in the process. She holds her breath and he brings one of his hands towards her face, palming the side of her jaw in his warm hand, thumb rubbing at the plush skin of her lips. “Can I kiss ya? Maybe tha’s all ya need is a good kiss, yeah?” She nods, his hand moving to pluck at her bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger. “Got really nice lips, don’t you? ‘S so soft and wet, catch myself wanting to touch ‘em allot’' She inhales softly as he leans in, his hand sliding to the side of her neck and he litters soft kisses against her jaw. She whines softly when his mouth nears hers. “Shh, gonna kiss you in a minit.”

All Y/N can do is breath, mouth parted slightly as Atsumu drags his mouth over her face. His hand is so warm and big on her skin; he’s so close in her face that all she can do is inhale and smell him, making her dizzy with building warmth in her belly. They catch each other’s gaze, neither daring to blink away, before he tilts his head, pressing his mouth against hers softly at first. He doesn’t move to kiss her, just holds his lips over hers for a moment, as if giving her time to back away if she wants to; but when she doesn’t, he hums and pulls her head towards his more, lips moving in tandem. His hand slides from her cheek, worming its way towards the nape of her neck as he pulls her to him - he wastes no time in deepening the kiss, licking into her mouth with  fervor. And she lets him, moving into his lap as she relishes in the feeling of his tongue lazily swirling with her own; the new found position allows him to drag his hand down her back soothingly, her own hands sliding around his neck and up into his hair.

She parts with a soft gasp, whether it be for air or out of surprise she can’t tell. He whines momentarily, before nosing his way down towards her neck, pressing butterfly-light kisses at the flesh. She’s wiggling in his arms, and he laughs, the air ticking the soft bend of her collarbone. “Fuck, you’ve been holdin out on me. Tha’ was good right? A good kiss for ya?” All Y/N can do is nod, sliding her hand towards his face in hopes of bringing his lips back to hers. She can feel the smirk on his mouth when she presses their mouths together again, and maybe after she’d bitch him out about it but right now all she wants is to be suffocated by him.

Moments pass, the air filled with soft pants in between kisses and thickening arousal. Atsumu cards his fingers in her hair gently, mouth still against hers, free hand sneaking around Y/N’s front. She whines softly, to which he shushes her softly. “Shh you’re okay… just wanna feel ya.” He soothes her over by indulging her in soft kisses against her lips,   hand pushing up the front of her ratty t-shirt, snaking his hand past the waistband of her shorts into the confines of her (now too tight) underwear. Y/N shudders when he strokes lightly over her clit, before surpassing it completely and going to where a wet spot had been developing on the fabric. Plucking the damp cotton out of the way and letting the tips of two fingers rub over her weeping hole, “Oh.. this for me?”

A small noise crawls out of her throat, a mix between a moan, a whine, and surprise. “Don’t, ‘tsumu. It’s embarrassing..”

“Shh don’t be embarrassed. Just feels good to know I make ya feel good, baby.” Atsumu pulls his fingers from her, smiling when she whines at the loss of contact. But he’s able to soother her before she can get too fussy; one moment Y/N is on top of him, struggling to not rock against his thigh and relieve some of the pressure building up inside of her, the next Atsumu has her flipped over so her back, her body caged between the back of the sofa and his arms. A hand on either side of her head as he bends in, sweeps his tongue at a strip of salty skin just beneath her jaw. He hastily shoves up the shirt she’s wearing, revealing more of her and letting his hands graze over her breasts lightly at first before kneading them. She feels lightheaded while his mouth works on her throat, biting and sucking a bruise at the base of it that makes her gulp. Parting from the skin with a gentle kiss and a small, whispered comment of, “Taste so good, so soft and sweet. Been holding out on me, hmm?”

For the first time ever, Y/N has Atsumu in her arms and has no need to push him away - no, instead she’s holding onto him as if she’d die if he slipped away from her, her hands gripping his broad shoulders before sliding up into his hair as he makes his way down her body. He’s practically praising her - pressing wet, open mouthed kisses on her skin as he moves downwards, fingers making quick work of tugging her bottoms off, helping her kick out of them quickly and clumsily. She knows that Atsumu is not a patient man, but this is a whole other level of impatience. He’s pushing her thighs open, cold fingers squeezing at the soft flesh of her thighs as he scoots down to be at eye-level with the barest part of her, making sure her calves are hooked over his shoulders. Y/N can’t remember a time when she’s ever been in a more vulnerable position, but instead of shying away like her instincts would have her, she finds herself moving to better accommodate the man between her legs. Her eyes catch his caramel colored ones and her breath catches in her throat; he’s staring at her, enamored by her.

“Such a pretty little thing aren’t ya?” he murmurs, lips forming a gentle kiss on her inner thigh but before she can retort he gives one long, gentle swipe of his tongue directly up the middle of her folds. She gasps, face turned away from him and thighs threatening to close, but he shifts his hand to stop her, holding her in place. “Aht… don’t get shy now, lemme get a taste.”

It’s too much when he dives back in, skilled mouth a vicious match for his insatiable need to please. As he strokes his soft, wet tongue deeper and deeper between her slippery folds that part around him willingly. Y/N’s sure she’s moments away from swearing her undying fealty to whatever higher being put this on her plate for today.  Puckering his lips around her clit after stopping just before sucking on her until it was swollen and even greedier for his attention. Dipping his tongue inside of her hole, humming appreciatively against her and only feeding into the whimpering sounds filtering out of her mouth.

Embarrassingly, Y/N feels that she’s nearing her end - despite the shame of admitting that it's coming too fast, she feels the need to tell him anyway. “Hmph… g’na cum,” she chokes out, hoping that he heard her because all she can hear is the blood rushing in her ears. Every sense is suffocated by Atsumu’s presence, and she’s shameless as she lets every pant slip past her lips, feeding into Atsumu’s ego. “‘m so close, I need it. Need you to – to keep going please, ‘Tsumu”

And he does, gets her to the edge of her high before sliding his mouth away from her. The whine that falls past her lips is deafening, eyes opening and seeing that he’s just nuzzling her thigh, lips making light work at marking the soft flesh. “No, no you said… said you’d help.. Please I’m-” she’s hiccuping, tripping over her words numbly as she tries tugging his head back to where she’s most desperate for him.

He hums at her softly, almost patronizingly, as he places a kiss to the skin closest to his mouth. “Don’t cry pretty girl.. Won’t leave you hanging, ‘ts so warm down ‘ere… might have to stay forever, tha’ okay?” He is disgusting, filthy, so sinfully good. And true to his word, he goes back in without another word, only a small smile and his own hum that vibrates through her lower half. When he takes her clit back between his lips, it’s all she needs. Every tense muscle finally seizing to his maximum strain; it’s like she was a string that’d been stretched too far and finally frayed in the middle, snapping. She can hear her heartbeat thumping like a bass in her ears, can feel the way she’s twitching under Atsumu’s relentless movements, and it drowns out her own noises that she’s making.

Moments later, all that can be heard is her bated breathing, head completely empty and eyes heavy, flickering and fluttering with just how light she feels. Atsumu kisses his way back up to be face-to-face with her, making sure to peck gently at the marks he’d littered her skin with. His face is buried in the base of her throat, their arms tangled around each other lazily - Y/N feels too sleepy to protest the way that he’s pressing all his weight onto her; but isn’t too tired to realize that he’s hard when her hips wiggle to accommodate him between her legs, maybe has been the entire time, which confuses her slightly. Why would he be hard over her? She understands her total arousal over him since she bitched him into submission, but him? If anything, him being hard right now just proves, to Y/N at least, that maybe he would get it up with anything. But what if it is for you, her heart wonders briefly.

“‘Tsumu… are you-?”

“Shh, ‘ts alright. Let's get you to bed.” And he moves to slide off her, moving to guide the two of them to her bed, which was a feat on its own considering Y/N’s legs feel like jelly. All he can do is smile at her, taking in her relaxed face and mused hair. He settles her into bed, sliding up next to her and pulling her onto his chest, lips pressed into the crown of her head.  Before Y/N can even think of a way to say thank you, she feels sleep taking over, choosing instead to just indulge (for once) in the pseudo-domestic situation she’s in tonight.

The following morning, Y/N almost doesn’t want to wake up, isn’t ready to come to terms with whatever happened yesterday. Long gone is the lusty drunkenness from last night, but Atsumu...Atsumu is still fully there, lips pursed and arms shoved under the pillow - Y/N holds back the urge to trace her fingers along the lines of his arm. She russells around, hoping that sleep takes over her again so she can justify waking up wrapped around Atsumu - her attempts are futile though when she feels a firm squeeze at her side, cold fingers making her jump slightly.

“Wha’s wrong?”

She mumbles a barely coherent “nothing,” to which Atsumu just hums, snaking his arm over Y/N’s middle and pulling her towards him, chest to chest with his breath fanning over her face. She swears she could die a happy person now. Wants to have every morning be like this, him in her too small bed, squishing themselves together for warmth, just the sheer proximity is enough, she muses to herself. Apparently, Y/N is thinking just a little too loud this morning for Atsumu’s liking because he sighs softly, asking if she’s sure nothing is wrong.

“Mm ‘m fine. Jus’ tryna get comfortable, go back to sleep.”

“Can’t now, all yer wiggling woke me up” And before she can even retort, he shifts slightly, practically forcing his groin on her thigh, to which she squeaks softly. “Jus go back to sleep… too early for breakfast.”

“Bu- Tsumu.. Lemme..” she starts, shyly. She did have this inherent need to pay him back for what happened, and she can only equate his favor with something equally as...pleasurable?...fulfilling? She can’t find the right word but the most equal compensation for sex has to be more sex, right? The sleep in her bones is fully gone now, her hands sliding down his sides slowly, tentatively. “Please...wanna jus’-”

“Don’t have to, can just go to the rest- sh-shit.” He starts, his own hand reaching to stop hers but his movements stutter when she palms at his crotch, giving his bulge a full on grope. She shushes him softly, lips moving to peck his jaw softly as she snakes her hands past the tight confines of his underwear; and though she can’t see much of what is going on she can feel how thick Atsumu is. His hands have shifted slightly, one arm resting behind her and the other cupping her face, their lips tangled in kisses that feel too sweet and far from platonic.

Moments pass, and it's apparent that Y/N is moving much too slowly for Atsumu, him bucking into her hand and his hips rolling in uncalculated and sloppy movements. He whines softly when she pulls her lips off his, both softly gasping for air, but she shushes him, using the most minimal amount of strength to push him onto his back and settles between his massive thighs. By this point, once fully exposed in front of her, he's so hard that the foreskin is already drawn away from the head, tip slick and wet with precum. She’s gentle, wanting to preserve the quietness that comes with waking up at eight in the morning, as she presses a few open mouth kisses at the patch of hair below his belly button.

And it’s all over from here. Y/N ducked herself down, licking from the dip of his balls to his drippy head in one broad swipe. Y/N shudders softly at the whimper she’s able to pull out of the man above her, thinking that it’s probably the best noise she’d ever elicited from a man. Atsumu runs his fingers through her hair as she slides his head into her mouth, fingers deftly scraping at her scalp as she begins sucking. She sucks him like she wants to – like this was the most perfect way to spend every morning, with her blonde, dumb, stupid best friend stuffing her mouth. Both are still hazy with sleep, but that doesn’t stop Y/N from pulling him in deeper, hollowing her cheeks as she begins bobbing her head and moving her hand in tandem to stroke at what can’t fit in her mouth.

His fingers start to tangle in her hair rather than comb through it, his moans filling the room, punctuated with little encouragements that she hums at around him, like, “Tha’s it, there’s my good girl,” and through shaky laughs, “M'gonna cum if you keep doing that, baby.” Eventually, Y/N knows that he must be near his peak, but she pauses, eyes locking with his caramel colored ones, as she pulls her mouth away to let his length just rest on her tongue.

“Fuck yer pretty… so good aren’t ya?” He whisper-groans at her, gripping her hair a little harder when she tilts her head to the side, allow him to shallowly fuck himself between her lips, his thumb tracing the bulge his dick made in her cheek. “Need'a pull off if y'don’t wanna taste, baby… gettin so- fuck- so close.” He gives her hair a slight tug, like he might actually pull her off himself, but she doesn’t allow him; she just shifts her mouth, making light work of wrapping her lips around his tip, sucking greedily with and humming in protest around him. And it’s that that sends him over, twitching in her mouth as he sputters off shaky profanities before she feels shot after shot of white ropes hitting her tongue. Y/N can’t help but stare at him above her, relishing in the fact that this morning she gets to see him shake and shudder because of her.

Y/N pops off him gently, drawing back and humming at the lingering salty taste he’s left on her tongue. She graces the skin of his heaving abdomen with soft, fluttering kisses as she tucks him back into his underwear, before she crawls up his body, legs swinging to straddle his narrow hips. He’s got an arm thrown over his eyes, neck red and he seems almost bashful underneath her (which makes Y/N’s heart swell with adoration at just how him he is). She wiggles softly, folding her hands on his chest and laying her chin on them, waiting for him to say something to her. She blows a laugh through her nose when he finally looks down at her, eyes glimmering and lips pulled in the shyest smile she thinks she’s ever seen on him.

“You… yer good. Too good… just wow.”

---

Suffice to say lots has happened in the week following the pair quite literally eating their hearts out.

Firstly, Atsumu spent nearly every evening at her apartment that week. He waited every single day outside of her office building - her coworkers have taken to telling her how lucky she is that she has a man waiting for her with this whipped look on her face, but she swears up and down (with warm cheeks) that it's not like that. They eat dinner, alternating between picking up something on the way or cooking together - and by cooking, just picture Atsumu cutting vegetables in uneven chunks while Y/N scolds him for not adding enough water to the rice cooker. Normally this could happen: it's not super rare that they visit each other during the week if it's convenient - what is definitely not in the norm is the fact that Atsumu has buried himself between Y/N’s thighs thrice this week. It starts when Y/N looks too stressed on Tuesday evening, that Atsumu pulls her legs over his lap in an attempt to “massage some of the stress away,” which only leads to him manhandling her onto her back, promising to give her something else to cry about besides work.

Secondly, Osamu thought it would be best to alert Y/N that Atsumu had a very awkward conversation with a woman during lunch on Thursday - it was secretly his way of asking her to ask Atsumu what happened because both Y/N and Osamu were terrible gossips who feed off each other. When Y/N asked though, all Atsumu said was that the whole conversation didn’t matter, that the woman (who Y/N learned was actually Michimiya) wanted more than Atsumu was able to give to her. That their lives weren’t in sync or whatever, that they’d eventually manage to be co-workers at best. To say that Y/N wasn’t elated at the news would be a bold-faced lie.

Y/N feels on cloud nine, feels like she doesn’t even need to have a conversation with Atsumu about what their situation is currently. She gets to reap all the benefits of a relationship now, she’s physically taken care of and emotionally spoiled. Only thing she’s actually missing is the title but what's in a word, right?Atsumu wasn’t a natural flirt, always hid compliments behind a harsh delivery - but lately he’s taken to drowning Y/N in compliments, even the corny ones. Y/N expected a post-nut “god yer pretty,” but what occasionally caught her off was when he would open the door for her (normal) and say that “a pretty gal like you should never hafta touch a handle” (not normal). Subconsciously, Y/N feels like he’s only trying to compliment his way into her pants, but she chooses to ignore the way he coos at “just how gorgeous her eyes are” when he makes eye contact with her during a midnight snack.

On the second Thursday following the start of the Y/N-Astumu situationship, Y/N has no choice really other than to ask Atsumu what’s going on with them. They’re at the grocery store by his place (he’d convinced her to take the following day off work and spend the night with him), everything is more than normal when the pair’s conversation gets interrupted by a literal model-esque person, touching Atsumu’s shoulder. Y/N tries to sneak her hand from his arm, but he grasps her hand before she can get too far, looking at the stranger with a less-than-friendly expression.

“Oh Miya! I’m a huge fan, would you mind taking a photo with me?” He indulges his fan, never letting go of Y/N’s hand, even as she steps out of the camera’s focus. The stranger parts with a grateful smile to both Atsumu and Y/N, which feels unnecessary, but Y/N returns anyway. The friends continue their shopping trip before making the trek to Atsumu’s apartment building. Y/N is quiet, in her head about the whole fan interaction that lasted a total of five minutes, but Atsumu says nothing - even stays quiet until the pair are up in his apartment.

“Everything okay? Not bored of me are ya?”

She smiles weakly at him, settling to rest against his kitchen counter. “It’s just… I- nevermind it’s stupid.” She shakes her head, hand waving in front of her as if trying to shoo away the negative cloud above her head. But Atsumu quickly grabs her hand, pulling her into the space between his arms.

“It’s not stupid if ‘s how yer feeling.. What’s up?”

“Okay…” She starts, pushing away from his chest to give herself some literal and mental space. He crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back at the opposite counter to Y/N, who's mirroring his stance except her head is thrown back, eyes searching his ceiling for the right words to come next. “Are you always like… this… with the girls who give you head?” When she looks at him, his head is tilted to the left in confusion, making her huff anxiously. “Okaaay.. you’ve complimented me more in the past three weeks than any other person has in my entire life… is that normal for you to do with the girls hooking up with you or am I the exception? It’s not a big deal.. It’s just that you -”

“I compliment you because you deserve to be complimented, sweetheart… but if it makes you uncomfortable then I can stop.” He cuts in, before he uncrosses his arms, palms gripping at the counter behind him. “As for the whole hooking up part… is that what you want this to be? ‘Cos we can do that, up to you Y/N, I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give -”

“But why? Until three weeks ago I was under the impression that I wasn’t your ‘type’ or whatever so why now are you suddenly on board with taking whatever I give you?”

He laughs, and Y/N wants to cry. Why wasn’t he taking this seriously? Y/N is good at feeling her feelings, but has a hard time clearly expressing those feelings into words.

“Don’t laugh a-”

“Who told you what my type was? If it was ‘Samu or Omi I swear I’ll -”

“You did. You said I wasn’t your type.” He balks, eyes wide and riddled with trying to think about when he said it. “It was forever ago, but you said it. You came back from Germany, I picked you up and ‘Samu had called while I went to the restroom and well.. I overheard you say-”

“Yer an idiot, made an assumption before ya knew the whole truth, baby. I was talking about this photographer that I was kinda seein’ at the time. M’brother asked why if she’d get mad that I chose to see you fresh off the plane instead of her, said it didn’t matter because she wasn’t my type.”

Y/N wishes that the floor of his ridiculously priced apartment would swallow her whole, or that if she pushed the right buttons on his fancy microwave she’d be able to rewind life to five minutes ago when she decided to start this conversation. Frankly, she feels silly and like she shouldn’t say anything else - she knows that her words conveyed a little bit of insecurity that she’s sure Atsumu doesn’t want to have to deal with.

A beat passes before both Y/N and Atsumu open their mouths, but he’s able to get out the words first. “You really thought that you weren’t my type?” Fuck his smug little desbelieving smile.

“Don’t gimme that look - you’re usually spotted around the globe with gorgeous people… ‘s it really wrong of me to assume that I wasn’t your type? Besides,” she starts, arms crossed around her middle while Atsumu takes a tentative step to close the gap between them. “It's not that it matters now since, y’know I know that it's not true.. Just hurt my feelings at the time and well…”

“You were supposed to be the smart one between us, got the college degree ‘n everythin.” He teases, arms reaching to rest on her waist. “For someone so smart you really missed all the signs huh? Why do you think I stepped in every time some guy tried to talk t’ya? Why d’ya think that I tried to take up all your weekend time, don’t get me wrong I love spendin’ time with ya but also didn’t wanna see you goin out with any guys you’d met when I wasn’t around.” By this point he’s got her chin in his hand, ducking his head slightly to make her look at him fully. “And why the hell would I eat you out at every possible opportunity once I’ve been given the okay? Just because I get thrown it all the time by others doesn’t mean that I eat out every -”

“Alright, alright. You can shut up now. I get it, I’m dumb. I just didn’t think -”

“Oh you got tha’ right - didn’t think at all did ya?” She groans, throwing her head back. She’ll never be able to get the image of his smug face out of her head, never going to be able to live down how for once in their years long friendship Atsumu was smarter than her. All he can do though is laugh, pulling her face back down to his and giving her forehead a soft kiss, making her stomach erupt with flutters.

“If you tell anyone about this conversation, I swear to god Miya I’ll-”

“Shh it’s always gotta be a threat with you huh? Why can’t you just admit that you were stupid for once?”

“Not happening.”

“Not even if it means you’re stupidly in like with me”

“No, because I’m not stupidly in like with you… I just adore your stupid self more than I’d ever admit in front of anyone else.”

He laughs, bumping his nose against her with a laugh before kissing her softly. Everything is great, life is great. Y/N loves Atsumu and Atsumu loves her, and she isn’t some sad, movie cliché any longer. She’s got this gorgeous guy who practically worships her, so freely giving himself to her. He pulls away from kissing her for a second, taking a moment to appreciate the way that her eyes are closed happily.

“Just so y’know… I adore you too.” Kiss. “But you are never allowed to call me stupid again… from now on I’m the smart one in this relationship.”

A/N pt2: and so that’s it hehe. thank you sm for reading I hope you enjoyed it. any little comments you have in the tags would be nice to read or yeah. this is my side blog so like hgjdgsh if I respond to you it’s gonna be from my main haha

#okay now I can type in the tags but basically I’m actually v proud of this not so little fic and so I just sjdjdjdj #if you’re reading the tags ily #tysm for reading my fic I appreciate u!! <3 #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu fic #haikyuu smut #haikyuu fluff #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x female reader #miya atsumu x y/n #miya atsumu fluff #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu miya x female reader #miya atsumu smut #atsumu miya fluff #atsumu miya smut

[poppunkporco]

the one where you walked me home (porco x reader fic)

the one where you walked me home (porco x reader)

contents: porco x fem reader, mentions of marcel galliard, childhood friends, best friends to lovers, fluff, pining, alternate universe - college/university, modern au, bisexuality, smoking, porco galliard-centric

rating: teen and up audiences

summary: When he walks her home that night, Porco realizes he might have feelings for his childhood best friend. He has no idea in hell how to deal with it but he tries.

word count: 5079

notes: i just thought it'd be interesting to try writing a modern au porco/reader fic in a more porco-centric POV. what i try to do here is explore how he deals with the soft sappy feelings of slowly realizing he's in love since he's pretty bad at emotions and even more so when it's not a [strong, violent type of feeling]

*fic loosely based on this song:

*this is also cross-posted on ao3

***

2:40 AM at an empty parking lot behind a 7-Eleven. The nearest lamp post flickers weakly with its dimming orange light as Porco sets down his third empty beer can on the concrete with a yawn.

“Hey,” he says, lightly shrugging the shoulder against which she leaned her head on. She doesn’t budge from beside him. He rubs the lethargy off his eyes.

They’ve been sitting on this parking block for almost three hours now-- since they left the gig hours ago at the pub just across the university. They’d just spent the past few hours ranting about midterms and how fucked up alienated labor is along with the absence of ethical consumption under capitalism-- and how everyone is forced to participate in it, talking about trips they’d like to make in and outside the city, their ideal lovers, and anxieties about the future. This was a thing they did now and then, usually on Fridays and Saturdays-- seeking a kind of cathartic escape from their hectic academic life in each other’s company. A friendly rendezvous they’d jokingly call dates every now and then.

He leans forward just enough to get a peek at her face, partly obscured by the mess of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes. 

So she’s asleep.

His eyes dart towards their things lumped together beside her feet-- their backpacks sitting atop an A4-size sketchbook along with the last unopened beer can.

Porco idly clinks his finger against the top of the beer can he had just emptied as he breathes out a wistful sigh.

Somehow, she always reminded him of his long-gone brother. Not to say that she shared even a bit of Marcel's fairly easygoing yet charming demeanor. Because she was far from that. She was loud with a crude mouth-- more like Porco himself, really-- except that she at least was kinder, more pleasantly charismatic towards other people than himself. And in that way, yes, she did remind him of Marcel. But there were other things-- pastimes and memories that reminded him of his brother when she came to mind. They’d known each other even as kids. Back in middle school, Porco remembers how she’d visit their home on the weekends so the three of them could build a Lego city which Marcel himself had drafted on the back of one of his sketchbooks. Those two were always quite the artists even as kids-- Porco recalls fondly. His brother had been the one to introduce her to Porco during one of those weekends. He didn’t like it at first-- how Marcel would seem to pay more attention to her at times as they animatedly sketched parts of the city on paper in the middle of assembling the Lego blocks. He’d eventually learned to be tolerant of her presence at least as the weekends passed by and the city gradually came to life-- vast with skyscrapers, houses, trees, vehicles, and lamp posts. Porco distinctly remembers building a garden with her beside a house that resembled the Galliard residence. He had assembled the green pieces that resembled leaf blades onto the flat Lego board, while she topped them off with tiny colorful flower pieces. It was honestly quite fun and it became a thing he eventually looked forward to on the weekends with Marcel.

But all things come to an end and at times, at points where they feel like they’re not supposed to. Porco knows this well.

In Marcel’s old room, the city remains hidden away, unfinished.

It was on a rainy day when Marcel had met an accident on his way home with a schoolmate. Onlookers had witnessed him racing against the red light to push Reiner away from the path of an incoming vehicle.

Even if it was an accident, Porco despises Reiner after that. He'd decided to never talk to him after the incident but as fate would ridiculously have it, they’d meet again in high school-- as classmates, nonetheless, to his dismay.

It was after this same incident that Porco had grown closer to her-- the only other person who possibly knew Marcel almost nearly as he himself did. She knew about the city and she knew about his sketches, after all. In the first few days after his brother’s wake, they’d simply talk about Marcel as they walked home together after school and how they both missed him. Those walks home would eventually involve detours at the nearest Mcdonald’s where they’d get nuggets and buy a Happy Meal-- the ones that came in flimsy cardboard packaging printed with colorful cartoon mascots-- for the sake of getting the collectibles that came with them. It was a thing they never really grew out of. Even now, as college kids, whenever they’d find themselves eating out together at the nearest Mcdonald’s after their Philosophy classes scheduled on Tuesdays and Thursdays, they’d get themselves a Happy Meal, even if they sometimes earned puzzled looks from the cashier as they engaged in quick, petty quarrels as to which collectible they should get.

Soon, Porco feels her shuffle in her seat beside him, the weight of her head now off his shoulder. She rubs the sleep off her eyes with a yawn.

“...should go home,” she drawls, accidentally kicking one of the empty beer cans sprawled in front of them on the concrete. It lands right at the feet of a passer-by who in turn shoots her a cold glare before kicking the can back in her direction. "I-- hey, uh, sorry about that," she apologizes, louder than necessary. Said passer-by only clicks their tongue in annoyance as they raised a middle finger at her before walking away with a muffled swear under their breath.

She exchanges incredulous, befuddled looks with Porco for a few silent moments before eventually letting out a snort and bursting into a fit of stupidly drunken laughter with him. 

“...is what I mean… fucking capitalism... makesnasshole out ofveryone,” she remarks, broken phrases drawn out in between chuckles. “Yeah, yeah. I got it for the tenth time,” Porco says, laughing with a roll of his eyes. He stands up and stretches out a hand in front of her. “Now can we go home? Can’t exactly start a revolution when the alcohol’s fucked you up that bad,” he says with an impatient sigh.

“Yeah? How do you know? Did Karl Marx write that?” She languidly takes his hand.

“No, but-- fucking… well, I don’t know. Maybe? Indirectly? I mean, we did just give in to consumerism,” Porco says with a sharp click of his tongue as he pulls her up to stand.

“Well… yeah. I guess so.”

“Anyway.” Porco places a palm at the top of her head and urges her to face him. “You seem more out of it than me. I’m walking you home this time, alright?

”She shrugs languidly. “Sure, whatever,” she says, her words muffled as she falls face first into his chest. 

--

“Give me the fucking keys,” he says coarsely after her third failed attempt at unlocking the door to her own flat. In the dim light of the hall, Porco tries to make out the shape of what he recognizes as the right one among the five keys dangling from her keychain. He sighs, frustrated as he finally unlocks the door. 

“How the hell did you--?” Confused, she eyes the keys still dangling from the door. “Why wouldn’t it open when it was me?”

“For the love of--” Porco runs a palm down across his face with an exasperated sigh. “You were forcing the wrong key.”

“Oh.” She snorts trying to stifle a chuckle. Porco pulls the keys from the door and hands them to her along with the sketchbook he’d been carrying.

“Thanks.” She gives the door a light push before finally taking a step into the flat. And then a sudden stop. She pockets her keys and lets the sketchbook fall on the carpeted floor of the foyer. She tilts her head pensively for a few moments, staring blankly at the darkness of her room. Porco raises an eyebrow in confusion. She turns on her heel to face him again.

“What is it?” he asks.

She stands on the tips of her toes, eyeing Porco with what felt to him like newfound curiosity. She rests a hand on his shoulder to steady herself.

Her other hand soon reaches up to cradle the side of his face. It comes as a surprise, but not the kind that made you flinch or visibly react in some way. This was simply… unexpected. Weird. And somehow new.

She’s looking at me. And she’s looking like she’s waiting.

And what is she waiting for, exactly? He feels a nervous lump in his throat, swallows it down. He has half the mind to lean his face closer as he, too, looks at her-- and he looks at her like he’s waiting.

Alas, whatever this is-- it ends where it feels like it’s not supposed to.

“‘Night, Porco,” she says with a feeble smile before falling back flatly on her feet.

“Yeah. You too. I’ll see you around,” he says, tentatively glancing at his side.She crouches down to lazily pick up the sketchbook before finally entering her flat again. Porco catches her giving him a tiny wave through the crack of the door moments before she completely pushes it closed. He bids her goodbye with a curt nod.

Once the door closes, he rolls up the sleeve of his jacket to check the time. 

3:15 AM. Porco raises a palm to his cheek. The ghost of her touch lingers on his skin.

***

“Are you serious?” Porco scoffs. “Y/N, you’re not even watching the film.” He leans his head against his palm with his arm resting on the side of the couch.

“Sure I am,” she says, unpinning her hair before letting her head fall on his lap. As she types out a message on her phone, Porco manages to make out Pieck’s name at the top of the chat box.

“You keep checking your phone.”

“It’s fine. We’ve both seen this film before anyway. I told you-- I’m just rewatching it for my paper on Nietzsche.”

“So you dragged me into this for what?”

She gives a halfhearted shrug. “I don’t know. Felt like it. Just wanted to bother you for a good film.” She finally sets aside her phone to look up at Porco with a shit-eating grin. He sighs and flicks a finger against her forehead. “Ow. What the fuck.”

“At least try to look like you’re actually watching,” Porco says, turning her head to face the TV screen.

"Fine, fine," she says with a grimace as she kneads the pain away on her forehead.

They’re now about an hour into Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. As lovers Joel and Clementine ran through the memories-- hand in hand mapping the history of their relationship-- the ups and downs-- scenes of the two playfully mocking the film at a drive-in theater, a stroll through the flea market leading into talks of having a child, lovemaking underneath the covers as Clementine told Joel about her insecurities rooting from childhood-- all these small intimacies that nonetheless revealed to each other their flawed, detestable selves along with reasons they probably shouldn’t be together, Porco realizes it. 

He looks at her, notes the way the flicker of the TV screen daintily lit up her solemn face and how she’d break into a smile every now and then. She’d brush the back of her hand against his knee and point at the TV screen to tell him that this was among her favorite parts so he absolutely had to pay close attention. A bit funny considering she was the one who wasn’t paying much attention to the film during the first part, Porco thinks. At least she’s watching now, even as he can’t help but watch her instead.

As he absentmindedly brushes a hand against her hair, he wonders if they could be something more, wonders if they’d be anything like Joel and Clementine-- imperfect, but nonetheless worthwhile. They’d known each other since they were kids and he can definitely make a list of things he doesn’t like about her-- like the way she’s too loud and frisky and never seemed to take the right things seriously, how scatterbrained she was that she’d forget the schedule for a midterm exam and how her room always seemed to be in shambles, the way she was so stubborn she’d easily get upset at something as simple as choosing to eat at a fast food different from the one she insisted on, how she’d smoke in his dorm no matter how many times he’d told her that she could get him in trouble for it. But it's not like he's perfect either. She’d told him that he came on too headstrong at times and that’s why a lot of people felt intimidated by him-- a trait that had gotten him into fights and eventually, long afternoons of detention back in high school. She says she hates the way he thought himself too strong to cry in front of anyone and how he’d grown dismissive of opening up to her as they got older. Whenever they’d get into heated fights, she’d tell him that all you ever are is angry and how he was pretty shit at saying sorry like he meant it. And despite all of these, they had remained close friends over the years. They’d promised each other that they’d get better-- slowly, but surely-- even if that was something easier said than done. He could live with that. He would.

***

“Hey, uh--” Porco breathes out a puff of smoke as he hands her the cigarette. He gazes distantly at the parade of city lights before them-- from the headlamps of the vehicles passing below them on the bridge, the streetlights, and the buildings overhead. “--do you still like Pieck?”

She suddenly lets out a cough and a puff of smoke at that. She gapes at Porco incredulously.

“Pock, it’s been three years since we broke up. And that was high school.”

“Look, I know that, but--” he sighs. “I was just wondering.”

She laughs. “That’s not really what you wanted to ask, is it? There’s something else.” She raises an eyebrow at Porco. He rolls his eyes at that, irked at how easily she could read him. “So ask.” She passes him the cigarette and he takes a drag of it.

“Ok--” he says with a sigh. “--Have you liked any other girls after her?”

She raises an eyebrow, intrigued.

“No, not really. Nothing serious, at least. I mean, I did have a crush on this girl who sat beside me in English class during freshman year. But... that was freshman year, you know? Nothing ever really came of it. And you know I would have told you if something actually did, anyway."

“I see.”

“There’s more you want to ask,” she says with a cheeky smile.

“Ok. Fine.” Another drag of the cigarette. “How about-- boys? Have you liked any guy at all since then?” The city lights blur against the filter of smoke. Porco refuses to meet her eyes even as he feels her gaze on him-- heavy with something he could not exactly put his finger on. He knows she’s not smiling anymore and from his periphery, he thinks he senses a swallow in her throat. She turns to the city overhead.

“Yes, actually.” She takes the cigarette from him, smiling fondly upon the light brush of their fingers. “I-- you know, even though I’ve known for a long time that I liked both guys and girls, I still find myself doubting that sometimes. When I’m attracted to a girl, I sometimes think that maybe I was just gay all along. And now that I find myself actually liking a boy again, a part of me entertains the thought that maybe me liking girls was just a phase and maybe I was straight all along. But... I just know it’s not like that. And yet, what people say still gets to me-- they’ve got a way of making you think that being bi isn’t a real thing. Even though it is. I know because... I’m real, right?”

“Yeah. You are. You’re… you’re here.” The corner of his lips turn up as he says it. “I get it. I mean, I think I’m the same.”

“Really?” She turns to gape at him.

“I suppose I’ve never told you this either because it’s so fucking embarrassing, but…” He sighs defeatedly, kneading his temples with unease. “...I made out with Reiner in high school.”

She regards him with a scandalized look.

“Dude, what the fuck. I thought you hated the guy.” 

“I do, alright? It’s just that… teenage hormones and shit. I was stupid and he’s stupid. I-- I don’t know what I was thinking that time. But… I do wonder sometimes--” He scratches his head tentatively. “--what my brother was thinking rushing in to save him from that accident. Like… just what did he see in that meathead that was worth saving?”

“And did you find your answer to that when you were making out?”

Porco eyes her with a deathly glare.

“Fuck you.” 

“Oh, so you did,” she says with an impish grin.

Porco flicks a finger against her forehead.

“Ow-- hey! Stop that,” she says with a grimace. “I mean, I don’t blame you. Reiner’s hot.”

He clicks his tongue at the remark before hastily seizing the cigarette from her grasp to take another drag. "Not like he's the only guy I ever found ho-- I mean liked."

She laughs.

"We should head back," he says coldly.

"Sure.” She nods. “Though… is there anything else you wanted to ask?"

As the filter of smoke hangs between them, Porco wonders about the boy she likes.

He shakes his head. "No. It's nothing."

***

“It was like deja vu,” Porco says, sighing into his phone as he shifts to lie near the edge of his bed. “Except in this dream… before she said goodnight, we, uh--”

“You kissed?” Pieck suggests from the other line.

“Well… yeah.” He puts a palm to cover his face, feeling the flush on his cheeks as he says it.

“So you like her,” Pieck says, almost breaking into a chuckle.

“I, uh…”

“I get it. She’s charming and reminds you of Marcel.”

“That’s…”

“I’ll be honest with you.” She sighs and Porco senses a smile from her tone. “Remember when I said I broke up with her because uni was getting too busy? The truth is that… I feel like you two always seemed to get along better than I ever could with her-- and it probably has to do with Marcel. When I realized that, I’ll admit I did start to feel jealous. I thought back then that you two might eventually get together. After all, you two were both still in high school, while I was already away in uni. It left me distraught for months so I just... decided to break it off. Don’t get me wrong, though. It’s been years and it’s not like I haven’t dated anyone else since then. And in hindsight, that just might have been for the best. I mean, you confiding in me about her right now-- I think-- is a testament to that. Because you realized it too, didn’t you?”

“Oh." He pauses. "I never thought that you-- Pieck, look, I--”

“Pock, if you feel guilty about it just because I used to date her, don’t. It’s not anyone’s fault. That… that she just loved you first. It’s circumstance. She met you and Marcel first before me.”

That she loved you first. As Porco echoes the words in his head, he becomes acutely aware of the beating in his chest and the warmth swarming his face. He buries his face in a pillow and screams into it.

“Hey, Pock? You ok there?” Pieck chuckles.

“How do I-- you think I should tell her?”

“Well, it’s the honest thing to do. And I genuinely think you don’t stand to lose much by doing so. Even if by the littlest chance of her not returning your feelings, I don’t think confessing would ruin your friendship. Might be a little awkward at first, but I don’t think she’ll end up hating or avoiding you at all.”

“You sure you’re not just sayi--”

“No, Pock. I’m not just saying this because we’re friends. I’m saying it because it’s what makes sense.”

“Ok, well… thanks,” he sighs. “And by the way… I’m sorry I called you this early. I know you’re probably busy especially since it’s your thesis year.”

“It’s fine. I’m glad you told me. Frankly, I do find satisfaction in knowing my speculations are correct. And you guys… you two are more predictable than you think-- if I’m being honest,” Pieck laughs.

“Well, I suppose being predictable isn’t so bad… if you’re right.”

Once they bid each other goodbye on the phone, Porco remains sprawled across the bed staring blankly at the ceiling. He rests a palm on his cheek, internally cursing Marcel as he feels the warmth streaming his face once again.

***

“Fuck,” Porco swears under his breath as they both ran towards the car, their feet splashing against the puddled ground as the rain cascades. A looming thunder rolls across the night sky as they make it to the safety of the vehicle.

“So… still not convinced that trying to get a Happy Meal on a rainy Friday at midnight was a bad idea?” Porco says, trying to catch his breath as he sets down the paper bag on the space between their seats.

“Well, I’ll admit it kinda sucked that you had to have your car still parked in school. And in my defense, I didn't expect the drizzle to cascade so soon on the way back. But you know what? It’s fine. We got what we needed and that’s all that matters. I’ll stand by this being a good idea.” She laughs as she peels off her drenched jacket. “Oh, by the way, where can I put this?”

“Just put it in the backseat,” Porco says as he peeled off his own jacket.

“Got it. Here, give me yours too,” she says before turning to place both of their drenched jackets in the backseat.

“Thanks.” Porco switches on the car’s dome light and the windshield wipers. The car’s interior now warmly lit, he rummages inside the paper bag, then hands her a box of chicken nuggets along with a plastic fork. “You want the fries now or later?”

“Later’s good. Thanks.” Porco acknowledges her with a nod, then leans back on the car seat with a languished sigh.

The rain patters incessantly against the windows over the rhythm of the windshield wipers. The faint yellow glow lulls from the ceiling of his car. He recalls a rainy evening spent staring out the window as he nervously waited for Marcel to come home. A distant memory weighs heavy on his eyelids.

“Porco. Are you ok?”

“What? Yeah.” Porco shifts lightly in his seat, slightly startled. “I just… remembered something.”

“What is it?”

“The rain. It just reminded me of Marcel.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Yeah.”

“You know, he was…” She puts down her food and lightly wipes the sides of her mouth with the back of her hand. “Back then, I considered him as something a little more than a best friend. I like that he liked my drawings and how he never made fun of them… even though he was ways better than me at it,” she recalls fondly.

He scoffs. “So… are you guilt-tripping me for something I said about your drawings when we were twelve?”

“You were an asshole, but you should be glad I’m past that.” She rolls her eyes with a sigh. “All I’m saying now is that Marcel was... really special to me.”

“What-- did you have a crush on Marcel or something?”

She snorts. “You could say... it was something like that. Yeah.”

Figures. He nonchalantly crosses his arms in front of his chest. The pattering rain fills in the lull in their conversation.

“I like your drawings too,” he finally says.

“That’s why I drag you along every time I go out to draw. You like watching me, right?” She teasingly raises an eyebrow as she says it.

“Well, sure.” He shrugs awkwardly in his seat.

“Tell me. What else do you like?”

“I don’t know. Let’s see…” he sighs, feigning annoyance with a roll of his eyes. “I like it when I’m in the middle of pulling an all-nighter at Tim Hortons… and you go on and disturb me just to get a Happy Meal on a rainy Friday midnight.”

“Yeah?” she chuckles. “What else?”

Porco turns to glance at her. As she meets him with a playful grin, his mind races with answers.

I like it when you steal my jacket and you leave me to freeze to death in the cold of the cafe’s AC. I like it when you go on a chaotic, semi-coherent drunken rant about how badly you want capitalism dismantled. I like it when you remember Marcel. I like your hair. I like how your hands unpin your hair before you rest your head on my lap.

He scoffs-- more in reaction to his own thoughts than at her teasing. Who knew he could be that embarrassingly sappy? “What are you… getting at?”

“Nevermind.” She shakes her head, still smiling. She laughs while timidly raising a palm to her cheek. “Can we share your fries now?”

***

“So I’m thinking of getting a tattoo,” Porco says, settling himself on the dormitory steps faintly lit by the porch lights hanging on both sides of the entrance.

“Cool. So where do you want it?” She sits beside him while setting down her things-- a shoulder bag and a sketchbook on the concrete step.

“I was just thinking on my arm,” he says, pointing a finger at a spot on his skin.

“What do you want it to look like?”

“Not sure yet.”

“I could draw you one.”

“Yeah?”

“Sure. I could do it right now.”

“Really?”

She takes the ballpoint pen out of the spring of her sketchbook and begins to doodle something on his arm. Covering her drawing with a cupped palm, she chuckles while mischievously peering up at him.

“I swear to god, if you’re drawing something embarrassing-- Oh, fuck you.” Porco laughs, managing to take a peek at the ink drawing of a cartoon porcupine with the hair on its head stylishly pushed back. Below the drawing, it writes 'porcopine.' He pulls his arm away from her grasp.

"What? You don't like it?" She grimaces.

"Porcopine? Really?"

“What? It's cute,” she says with an offended click of her tongue, reaching for his arm once again.

Below the word 'porcopine,' she then writes the phrase 'i <3 you.'

Porco furrows his brows upon reading the phrase, then lets out a chuckle. “What does this--?” he asks, pointing out the inked words on his skin.

“What do you mean? It is what it is.”

“You mean it?”

“Of course I do.”

“How do you mean it?”

She tilts her head pensively and squints at Porco as she gathers how to describe exactly what she meant. She supposes that he’s right-- a clarification was indeed necessary. This kind of thing could get confusing, after all. When you’ve known each other for so long in a relationship such as this, lines tend to blur. One day, you could both feel like the bestest of friends, and then like lovers the next.

“I mean it in a way that I wouldn’t mind marrying you.”

“Oh.” Porco gapes at her for a moment. “Ok,” he says, letting out an awkward chuckle.

“What’s with that reaction? I’m serious, Pock.”

“I just… I mean, to be honest…” He furrows his brows, carefully pondering his words. “I wouldn’t mind marrying you either.” Porco scratches his head sheepishly.

“Ok then,” she chuckles, shifting in her seat to face him. “We could build something. Something bigger than a Lego house. Maybe one with a garden. A story with a perfect ending.”

“Yeah? And if it’s not perfect, what then?”

“Something worthwhile, then. An ending that feels like an ending.”

“Ok. I can live with that,” he laughs.

“Porco.”

As she cradles his face in between her palms, Porco becomes acutely aware of the flush in his cheeks.

Then, slowly, she leans closer to gingerly place a kiss at the tip of his nose.

They soon find themselves both chuckling at what was probably the most blatantly romantic gesture between them thus far.

“So, uh, what are we now, exactly?” he asks awkwardly as they soon pull away.

She shrugs. “Lovers? Best friends who would marry each other? Though the latter is kind of a mouthful if you ask me.”

“Yeah. Let’s go with that first one.”

“Say, Porco.” She tilts her head questioningly at him. “You want to tell me how this night ends?”

“How the hell should I--”

She puts a finger to his lips and shakes her head. “Hey. Lovers now, remember? I’m not the only one telling this story. So tell me.”

“Ok. Let’s see,” he sighs. And so he indulges her. “It ends with you beside me. We’re lying down on my bed.”

“Clothed or naked?”

He gapes. “Are you seriously even consi--”

She flicks a finger against his forehead as she regards him with a mischievous smile. “Just answer the question.”

“Ok, fine,” he resigns, lightly kneading his forehead. “Look, I want to say naked because my AC’s broken ri--”

“Naked it is, then.”

“Clothed.” He glares. “For tonight.”

“Fine, fine,” she says, scratching her head in resignation. “You sure you’re not having second thoughts about letting me stay tonight, though? Not worried you might wake up with a bunch of porcopines on your face? Or I don’t know-- dick drawings?”

“Fuck off,” he says with a chuckle.

“So… what is it, really? You want me to stay or you want me to go?”

Porco sighs before slowly leaning his face closer to hers.

“I want you to stay,” he says against her cheek, before placing a chaste kiss on her skin. “Whatever I wake up to in the morning, I’m sure it’s worth it.”

#porco x reader #porco galliard x reader #porco galliard #attack on titan #aot x reader #aot fanfiction

[indianamoonshine]

Strawberry | Chapter 12 | Flames

Summary: Will joins the family dinner. The night can hide many things.

Rating: (+18) for…situations.

A/N: I'm SO SORRY for the long hiatus. Please accept this peace offering (jealous!Din) as a token of my gratitude.

TAG LIST: @t3a-bag @lumimon47 @dodgerandevans @hallway5 @dancingwiththeplanets @steeevienicks @orneryscandallousandevil @ficthots @gaiusfrakkinbaltar @reginagina-blog1 @loveme-tenderly @lastphoenixrising @rattlemyb0nes @rebellou @alljusthumans @gaiuswrites @lovecatsnotpeople

The symposium of a midwestern dinner sounds a lot like Bach's work.

Difficult notes with high to reach places and then very low caverns just a moment later. The cicadas in the background are a nice touch; it's something Tchaikovsky might have wished he could capture. Silverware - old enough to be considered vintage now - clank against the porcelain dinner plates. Charlotte lets out her fae-like laughter and Rhea listens intently, eyes gazing dreamily upon Tommy as he carries on conversation. The house is full tonight.

You suppose it was out of the kindness of your father's heart to invite Will to this dinner. Everyone within a two mile radius usually came to these spur-of-the-moment things. Will was an old family friend and his father supplied yours with fresh goat's milk and chicken eggs, so it wasn't all that strange he came along. Still, it made the meal a bit more difficult to swallow. Quite literally.

Din is sitting directly across from you. You think it might have been intentional because Will chose to plop his happy ass right beside you, grinning that lopsided smile and charming his way out of the discomfort with a joke. You play the part by laughing when he tries to outwit everyone in the room or by asking him how the farm manages these days. Will isn't a cocky person by nature, but something about the rigidness of his composure when Din asks for the green beans makes you all too suspicious.

It doesn't make any sense. Will broke things off with you. If he were to be jealous, it wouldn't be for anything but pride and show. A year ago it would've bothered you that Will was cajoling the room for the sake of his vanity, but now it was just embarrassing for everyone involved.

"Din, do you remember the summer of '90?" your father asks across the table, clearly involved in another conversation that pertains to this anecdote.

The man across you hums and shakes his head with a reluctant grin. "I try not to," he fibs, cutting at his steak.

Your father chuckles. "I was nineteen and Din was..." he pauses. "Jeez, Din. How old were ya?"

"Seventeen."

"Ah, right! Rhea hadn't been born yet but Scarlett was pregnant with her by the end of the summer. That was our last free year, wasn't it? Well, mine anyway." You dad points his fork in Rhea's direction, a bit of steak dangling from its end. "And then you came along."

Rhea scoffs. "Well, geez. My bad for existing."

There's no darkness in either of their words so the exchange makes everyone at the table chuckle in good humor. Your father and Din go back and forth about the irresponsible and, well, illegal things that had been done that summer. Underage drinking. Trespassing. And somehow Din always got away with it.

"He never got us caught. Ever. I still don't know how you did it." Your father says to his friend, eyes wrinkling with a genuine smile. "Damn good thing too considering how much pot we smoked. It's a good thing my girls didn't get that rebellious streak."

A witty response is formed upon your lips but only until Will cuts you off.

"I don't know about that," he pipes in.

You're taken aback, quite literally tossing your head to gauge his interjection. "What?"

An indifferent silence hushes the dinner party. Your sisters chew their food carefully, eyes glued upon the scene before them like it was one of their soap operas. Your father awaits an explanation with a rather scandalized look upon his face, but Will's father - Clarence - doesn't seem at all fazed by any probability of illegal activity.

Will rolls his chin to serve you an exasperated look. "Oh, come on. We're adults now; we can come clean." He drenches his steak in more A1 sauce before revealing: "Your daughter was the one to egg the sheriff's house."

The entire room initially goes as silent as a graveyard before everyone chokes on a snort and begins to roar with laughter. Clarence slaps your father on the back as the two of them snicker like a pair of hyenas.

"Will!" you growl. "You said you'd take that to your deathbed!"

The pain in the ass beside you howls with laughter, holding his stomach, and having to pause from drinking his beer. "Daffi, it's fine. They can't do anything about it now."

"That's not the point!" you scowl.

Din is grinning from ear to ear, obviously amused by your humiliation. It was a childish thing to do but the sheriff was a dick in the worst way and you wanted him to know it. That was a hot summer - record breaking, actually - and by the time he'd woken, the egg had dried upon his lawn and across the face of his home. Ole' Sheriff Winslow scoured the town for weeks before finally abandoning his quest altogether.

"You got something to say, Mister Djarin?" you inquire playfully, scolding him with a fire in your eyes.

Din clears his throat and furrows his brows. "No, no. I wouldn't dare."

The two of you exchange a glance that was far too intimate for this dining room. His eyes softened upon meeting yours and his smirk was silly, drunk on something other than the beer in his hand. If it weren't for dear Will's additional reminiscence, you might've fallen under the spell lingering in the space between you.

"Yeah, that was a great summer. We had our first kiss that year, remember?"

You blink, all thoughts of Din's mouth upon yours fizzling away like steam. Instead, it is replaced with the frayed-edged memory of Will's rusted pick-up parked in the darkest corner of the local McDonalds. It was hardly a first kiss worth mentioning if it hadn't been for how good he was at it and how bad you were. Still: what the fuck?

You wanted to say just that but refrained from doing so. Instead you say, "Lots of awkward fumbling if I recall." It comes out sharp - petty. If he wanted to behave like a child, you could do it too.

Din's trying so desperately hard not to glare at Will. You can see it in the deliberate chug of his beer.

-

“What. The. Hell.”

“I know.”

“Wait,” Charlotte holds up a hand, expression dumbstruck. “I’m not done.”

You roll your eyes and scrub at a particularly stubborn dish, waiting for her dramatics to be over.

“…was that?” she finishes.

Rather anti-climactic.

“It’s Will,” you tell her, voice bored but teetering on the edge of fury. “It’s fucking Will. What do you expect?”

Charlotte shakes her head, eyes bulging with disbelief as she blinks over and over again as though trying to compute. She takes a dish from you, sopping wet, and begins to dry it with a rag. You know Charlotte is eager to gossip because she never - never - offers to help clean after supper.

Everyone else is carrying on from the awkward conversation by sitting at the bonfire and making pudgy-pies. It’s the kind of snack one eats when they need to forget about anything other than the impending weight gain. You watch from the window as Rhea slathers Nutella upon a piece of white bread and then some cut strawberries. Honestly, you could really go for one, but the idea of being anywhere near Will makes your skin crawl.

“Did he say anything to you? Before dinner? Or after? Like…why would he say something like that?” Charlotte carefully stacks the delicate plates atop each other. They clank against one another noisily.

Like cymbals within the symphony.

“Nope,” you tell her. “Not a word. I have no idea what’s gotten into him.”

Charlotte goes silent, rubbing at the plates until they’re dry as a bone, and then whispers, “He obviously knows.”

You square your jaw, glancing around to make sure no one is in the vicinity, and then let out a great sigh. “Yeah, I’m sure he does. I was all over Din at the bar.”

Your dear sister brightens at the mention of the night prior. She stops her drying and places her hands upon your shoulders so that you may look her in the eyes. You see mahogany. Deep. Rich. Full of life and excitement. In her eyes, it is proof that she’s a good spirit and in good health. (And…well, maybe a little tipsy, but that’s besides the point.)

“I like him. For you.” Is what she confesses. She places her hands upon your cheeks and squishes them together. You protest, taking her wrists and wrestling her, but giggling all the while. “I mean it. I think he adores you. And so do I.”

You nod in her grasp. “Okay, okay! I know, yes. I know!” you chuckle, breathless from the lack of air supply. She still has you in a chokehold. “Can you please let me go now?!”

Charlotte releases you from her trap and you gasp a throat-full of air, belly aching from laughter. The two of you embrace one another in a hug, attempting to lift the other, and then falling upon the linoleum - sore with serenity.

-

There is something stirring in Din.

It is a fire that has just been fanned from embers he sought to snuff out. But they hadn’t perished, despite how hard he had tried. The coals burned. He burned.

For you.

At the bar, Din ignored Will to the best of his ability; sort of like how one ignores an irritating bumblebee. Leave him be, Din had chanted. He’s harmless. After all, Din had years stacked against Will. How was it possible to be so insecure by this kid?

Because that’s essentially what he is, right? He’s so goddamned young; he looks as though he’s never taken a hit in his life. He’s too pretty, too put together. He’s firm skin and tight abs. And Din, well…

Din was not.

Din was old. He was well past forty years of age now, playing house with a woman over twenty years his senior. No matter how well he managed to keep the façade so believable, it would one day end in disaster - embarrassment. Heartache. And defeat. He can’t bear the thought.

It wasn’t like him. He’s never given a shit about anyone’s perception of him before, nevertheless mulled over the ex of a romantic interest. Not to say that Din’s ever felt the way he did with you; no one has even come close. Xian was his longest “situationship” and when it inevitably burst into flames, he didn’t bat an eye. (He wonders if that makes him a terrible person.) If his toxicity with Xian was worth anything, it was just a testament of his endurance.

But you. The world fucking blurs when you’re near.

So when Will - cocky as Din once was - utters unsolicited bullshit, it takes every ounce of dignity he has left to remain silent.

We had our first kiss that year, remember?

There is a primal urge to reach across the table and wring the smug expression from Will’s face, to grab you with an unfamiliar hunger, carry you across the acre, and toss you onto his bed and just…

No. That was brutish. He wasn’t like that. He couldn’t allow himself to feel possessive over you because you couldn’t be owned. He knew that. But that fire licked at his inner conscious until he had to excuse himself from dinner altogether.

The darkest parts of him pace during the bonfire, though he manages to sit still and interpret Will’s behavior. His youth glows betwixt the crazed flames, an ombré of red and orange dancing across everyone’s skin. Din watches, he listens, he notes every little thing like hunters do. Because for some reason - some ungodly, twisted reason - Din felt as though Will were a bounty now. It’s the only way he could feel superior.

“Daffodil!” Will calls out suddenly. “Get over here!”

The hinges in Din’s jaw pop as he clenches his teeth, grinding them so forcefully he thinks Rhea - who sits beside him - might hear. When you arrive from the house (he guessed you were cleaning up, just as you always do), he notes the skimpy length of your cotton shorts and…

Wait. Is that his shirt?

It is. It’s the very same shirt Din offered you after the rain debacle after the bar. It was one of his favorites despite how plain it was; just a grey t-shirt that fit snugly on him but dwarfed you entirely. It skimmed the top of your knees and pressed against the swell of your chest. That something within him growled once more.

“Come sit,” Will instructs, patting at his lap.

You hesitate. “I…”

Will chuckles, urging you with waggling fingers. “We’ve been like this since we were kids, Daffi. Come on.”

There’s a pathetic attempt to steady himself as Din watches you perch upon Will’s lap.

You’re wearing his shirt. You’re wearing his shirt. You’re wearing his shirt. You’re wearing his shirt…

The group chats a while longer, exchanging stories Din’s never heard, but none of it matters. You’re on another man’s lap. And despite Mark’s very obvious presence, he wants so badly to grip your wrist and run.

“I’ve seen you before,” Will says suddenly. He points a finger in Din’s direction, eyes a little hooded from drink. “Weren’t you at the bar a couple of nights ago?”

Those who partook in the rendezvous go silent. Rhea freezes and Charlotte blanches, looking towards their dear sister who’s pale in the face now. Mark, in his sheer oblivion, raises a brow. Din’s been in every intense situation imaginable, but something about now makes his gut churn.

He could loose you. Right now.

He’s about to lie, to make up some bullshit excuse about having ‘one of those faces’, but Rhea pipes in.

Her voice is strong and firm when she says, “What the hell are you talking about? He wasn’t there.”

Effortless. Shoulders sag, the tension subsiding thanks to Rhea’s impeccable skill.

“Strange. Swore I saw you with…” he shakes his head and shrugs. “Never mind.”

An artificial laugh - so sickly sweet that it’s almost impossible to digest - escapes your lips. “You must’ve drank too much. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

-

His kiss takes you by surprise.

You’re walking back to the house after the men have soiled the fire and everyone’s said their good nights when he just does it.

It’s covertly enough, but it’s shocking. A massive hand encircles your wrist and pulls you behind the shed out back, pressing you against the mossy wood and stealing the breath from your lungs. It’s the biggest risk the two of you have taken. For God’s sake, your father is just now walking inside the main house and Din’s mouth is attached to the hollow of your neck.

You’re dizzy, gripping his shoulders so tightly that the fabric of his shirt warps beneath your fingers. “Din,” you breathe out. He kisses you speechless again and you break for air. “Din, what’s the matter?”

He curses under his breath. It’s sharp. Fuck. It’s not angry, per say, but it is damaged. You weave your fingers through his hair as he settles his breathing, concentrating on the strings of your shorts that he fiddles with.

“I…” He sighs, pressing his nose against your cheek. His breath is warm and you shiver. “He touched you.”

He sounds ashamed. Embarrassed. You can’t imagine how difficult it must be to vocalize your self-doubt as someone who relishes in secrecy. He had a wall built around him and it was made of iron.

“Not like you,” you whisper shyly.

You had some walls of your own. He was tearing them down like that of Jericho.

There’s softness in the air. The two of you are silent, eyes closed, and mouths inches apart. Exchanging of breath. It’s an ancient form of intimacy.

You trust him. You trust him with your life.

His hand feels natural in your own as you lift it to your breast. The trembling of his fingers is almost endearing; the man was far older than you and he still shook at the mere touch of a woman.

“No one can touch me like you.” Your hands glide south, pressing underneath the fabric covering the raw parts of you, until you stop at the band of your panties. “No one can.”

It’s all he needs to hear.

Soon after, he kisses you fiercely, but not without nodding in agreement. And that very hand, which grazes so deliciously at your belly, finally dips.

Sparks.

#strawberryfic #din djarin x reader #mando x reader #din x you #din x reader #din x y/n #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you

[guardianofrivendell]

A Dream Come True

Legolas x Reader

Requested: Yes! Anon requested:  Hi there, I love your blog! Can you maybe write something with Legolas and modern!reader? Like what if you got in Middle Earth in some way and Legolas finds you? Bonus points if you get hurt :) Thank you! - 🦁

Warnings: mentioning/description of injuries (You know I had to go for those bonus points!)

A/N: I had so much fun writing this! I might write a sequel if there’s enough interest in it :) 

You were falling. Not the feeling you get when you fall in a dream, like it seems that you’re falling. No, actual plummeting towards the ground. 

You could feel the wind rushing, making your eyes teary. The ground got closer and closer and you started to panic, swinging your arms in an attempt to slow yourself down. If this was a dream, it was really time to start waking up!

You could see a large forest underneath you with mountains surrounding it and a lake in the far distance. If you weren’t busy falling to your death, you might have appreciated the view. Now you thought about it, you recognized a bit of the environment. It was almost exactly like a part of the map in the fantasy novel you were reading before you went to bed. But that couldn’t be, right? 

The trees came closer and closer and you braced yourself for the impact. You fell down from branch to branch, breaking a lot of them in the process. You felt them rip your skin open, covering your body in tiny scratches, tearing your clothes. It did slow down your fall, but when you collided with the forest ground, it still hurt like hell. You weren’t supposed to feel pain in your dreams, right? You thought while you groaned. Maybe this wasn’t a dream after all… but where the hell were you then? 

You turned around on your back, and slowly moved both your arms to see the damage. Everything hurt, but nothing seemed broken which was a small miracle. Your arms were covered in small cuts but those would heal in a couple of days. When you tried to stand up, an agonizing pain in your thigh made you fall back on the ground with a scream. Sometime during your fall down the tree, one of its branches had made its way into your thigh. You could see the end sticking out, your shorts already wet with a dark red stain. 

“Oh, that’s just fucking perfect,” you sighed. 

Now what? You weren't brave enough to try and pull it out. Besides, if it started bleeding like crazy you didn’t have anything on you to try and stop it. You were wearing shorts and a tank top, the same clothes you went to bed in. It’s not like you could tear a piece of fabric out of it, you would have nothing left to cover yourself. 

You needed help. And fast, because as if your wound wasn’t enough trouble already, you started to feel lightheaded from the pain and blood loss. There was nothing left to do than crawl over the forest floor, in the hope you would find help soon. 

You hadn’t got very far yet when you heard the sound of someone or something approaching and a stench filled your nose. Your first instinct was to hide, but since you weren’t as agile anymore now that you were impaled, you couldn’t do anything but desperately search the ground for something to defend yourself if necessary. After a few seconds, an Orc jumped out of the bushes with a loud gnarl, not trying to be subtle at all. 

Wait a minute… an Orc? You recognized the creature from the books and it started to dawn on you that you might be in Middle Earth. 

“That seals it,” you thought. “I’m definitely dreaming.”

By now the Orc had noticed you were there and charged at you with his weapon raised. You instinctively threw your arms over your head and hoped you would wake up soon. Usually when you knew you were dreaming, it was a sign you were waking up. Right? So your eyes would open any minute now… 

But that didn’t happen and you didn’t feel a blow of the Orc’s weapon either. When you looked up, you saw the Orc on the ground right in front of you with an arrow through his head. Out of the corner of your eye you saw someone approaching you. You noticed the Orc’s weapon beside its body and tried to reach for it, only to be stopped by the tip of a sword pricking your neck. A male voice above you tutted.

“I would not do that if I were you.”

You froze. 

“Turn around,” the voice ordered. 

You slowly turned around and got in a sitting position, supporting your left leg and suppressing any groans, the sword of the stranger still pressed against your neck. 

“Let me see who you are,” he said. 

He shifted the sword right under your chin and lifted your head with it, your hair falling backwards revealing your face. Both of your breaths hitched in your throats when you saw each other. You wouldn’t know why he was so shocked to see you - although you could imagine you looked weird in his eyes, with your pj’s torn to shreds - but you felt like you were just struck by lightning. 

The Elf before you was breathtakingly beautiful. And exactly the picture you had made in your mind of one of the lead characters of your books. He looked at you, examining your torn clothes before his gaze stopped at your leg. 

“You’re hurt,” he gasped. A flash of worry went through his eyes but was quickly replaced with determination. 

“Can you walk?”

“Of course, I was only crawling on the floor out of boredom,” you said sarcastically, “No, I can’t walk.” 

The Elf chuckled, and finally lowered his sword. “I’ll just have to carry you then,” he suggested. He attached his sword on his back with his bow and crouched down with the intention to lift you up. 

“No, no, no, it’s fine,” you hastily protested, trying to stand up on your own, but almost immediately falling down in the process. You would’ve smacked to the ground again if it weren’t for a couple of surprisingly strong arms that went around your waist to steady you. 

“I can see that,” he said. “Are you always this stubborn?”

“Only on my good days,” you murmured. 

“Look, I can see you want to keep your distance. I understand that. But you can not walk on your own and I am not letting you crawl all the way to my home. Just lay your arm around my shoulders and lean on me okay?” he suggested. 

You reluctantly agreed. You knew it was the best option but you still felt a bit anxious being so close to him, remembering all the times you fantasized about his character. You wrapped your arm across his shoulders, and limped along. It hurt like hell, and you felt yourself slowly slipping away. To try and stay awake, you started talking.

“You know, I don’t think it’s such a good idea to take me home with you. How are you so sure that I’m not a bad guy? I could kill you in your sleep.”

That made him bark out a loud laugh. “No offence, but I do not feel threatened by you. At all,” he laughed. “Besides, the same goes for you. How do you know I won’t kill you as soon as we get to my home?”

“I’ll take my chances,” you grinned. 

You kept walking for a while, deeper and deeper into the forest. You noticed there was hardly any sunlight left that touched the forest ground. You also felt yourself getting warmer and warmer, drops of sweat dripping down your forehead and you had a hard time focusing, tripping every five minutes. You were almost certain the Elf beside you was carrying your full weight by now. Not that he was affected by it, it didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest. 

“We’re almost there, hang on,” he said, noticing you getting quieter and desperate to keep you awake. You didn’t respond, too tired and hardly any strength left. You felt little taps on your cheek. 

“Hey come on now, stay awake. Just a few more minutes! What is your name?” he asked. 

You blinked a few times, you could see a large building in the distance, almost like a palace. Or so you thought, because everything was so blurry it could have been a McDonald’s and you wouldn’t even recognize it. The Elf shook you when you didn’t answer. 

“Yes… I’m still here,” you muttered in response. “My name’s Y/N.”

“Legolas,” the Elf answered back. 

You groaned. 

“No… Y/N! Y-N,” you repeated. 

The palace came closer and closer. Just a few more steps and you could lay down and sleep. Sleep… that sounded pretty good.  

“Yes, I know. You already said that. And my name is Legolas.”

“Legolas,” you whispered. “I knew it was you...”

Legolas opened one of the side doors of the palace with a swift kick of his left foot. 

“Welcome to my home!”

But you hadn’t heard him, finally slipping into darkness, too exhausted to notice the same strong arms picking you up and carrying you inside. 

#legolas x reader #legolas #legolas greenleaf #lotr #lord of the rings #lord of the rings imagine #lord of the rings fanfiction #lotr imagine #lotr oneshot #legolas x y/n #requested #guardianofrivendell #lord of the rings x reader

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Rendezvous | Owen Patrick Joyner

Requested: no, came up with this myself when listening to Rendezvous by Little Mix... It contains smut so proceed carefully! :)

Pairing: Owen Joyner x Reader

Warnings: smut (+18), swearing

Words: 2,289

Quick reminder that this contains smut! Do not continue to read if that’s not your cup of tea. If you do like some steamy fics, then proceed and enjoy! 

🏝️

That’s all he texts her. A deserted island emoji. Though so simple and seemingly innocent, it speaks a thousand words to y/n. Just from that one emoji, y/n gets all riled up because her body knows what’s going to happen by now. 

It all started about a week ago when Owen had called her in a rage that his parents were being unreasonable and still thought Owen was a child and that he  hated them with a passion. Of course, y/n, being a good friend, immediately jumped into her car and drove from one side of Norman to the other and parked into his driveway where he was already waiting for her. He got in and the two of them tailgated into the dark night. Knowing her best friend very well, y/n stopped at the nearest McDonald's for a very needed and well-deserved portion of chicken nuggets and fries. The ultimate comfort food. Parked at the very back of the fast food joint’s parking lot, y/n lets Owen vent out all of his frustrations. She couldn’t do much but just look at him and munch on her fries while he went off a tangent about how terrible his parents are for not trusting him and whatnot, but all y/n could think about was how hot and attractive her best friend was when he got angry. “Can you stop looking at me like that?!” Owen’s rough voice snaps at her, causing her to stop mid-bite. With innocent eyes, she looks at her best friend through her eyelashes whilst slowly chewing on the fry. “Yeah, that! Exactly that! Don’t you know how fucking hot that is, y/n?!” She halts her chewing for a moment, repeating his words in her mind to make sure he just reciprocated the things she was feeling. “At least now you know how I feel about your ranting!” Y/n yells back before dropping her fry in the carton again and placing it on the dashboard, just so it’s out of the way. “Are you gonna kiss me or?!” His voice is rough and demanding, it makes y/n’s toes curl up. She launches herself forward and attacks his lips with hers, hungrily kissing the boy she’d grown up with. Hurriedly and a little clumsily, she crawls over the gearshift and onto his lap, straddling him. His jeans are already tightening around him, and it’s riling y/n up even more. “Take me to paradise, y/n,” he groans into her mouth. Those words are enough for her to let all reins loose. Ever since that day, Owen had texted her the deserted island emoji at the exact same time. He needed her to take him to paradise, just like that very first night. She knew the time and place he wanted to see her, and she knew he wanted her every day, in every single way. He made that fairly clear last night. He also made it very easy for her to just say yes to everything he said. There was nothing she wouldn’t do to get them both to that crescendo. But then there was also the gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach. She wasn’t trying to fall in love with him. That just happened all by itself, despite her pushing away those feelings. She knew all-too-well Owen just wanted it to be a friends with benefits type thing, that he just needed his fix. And to be fair, she did too. It was the easiest, most accessible way for her to scratch that itch. This way, she was still with Owen.

That night, after having received the emoji for the seventh day in a row, y/n quickly puts on some shoes and sneaks out through her window before jumping into her car and making the drive she’s done so many times before. She could almost do this road with her eyes closed. Owen is waiting on the driveway, like every night, and kisses her hungrily on the lips as he’s jumped into the driver’s seat. “I’ve missed you,” he says in a hushed voice that makes his voice sound hoarse. This is enough a sound to get his best friend all riled up. For some reason, that sound is the sexiest thing she’s ever heard. “Why do you make me miss you?” he kisses her down her neck whilst she reverses off his driveway and drives off to the McDonald’s parking lot.   The whole ride there, a tension hangs over the both of them. They’re aching for each other. Aching to roam their hands over each other’s bodies. Aching to tear each other’s clothes off. Aching to feel each other. That’s why they don’t waste one second when y/n has parked the car in their usual spot on the otherwise empty parking lot. Owen unbuckles his seatbelt before the car has come to a still, and then his fingers are unbuckling y/n as well as she puts the car in park. She then crawls across the gear shift and straddles the boy’s waist, sliding her hands underneath his shirt and trailing her hands up and down his abs.  His fingers immediately find their way underneath her shirt while their tongues start a game of dominance in their mouths. Within a minute, Owen has tugged y/n’s shirt over her head and thrown it behind him, while y/n is working on his belt. “Get in the backseat,” he grumbles against her lips. Clumsily, and after kissing him one last time, y/n crawls her way into the back and flips the backseat so it’s flattened out and they have more space. She quickly riddens herself from her jeans, leaving her in only matching red lace lingerie. Owen eyes her from the passenger seat, his jaw tightening. “What’s up, Rockstar?” y/n asks teasingly as she slides the strap of her bra off her shoulder enticingly. The boy in front of her swallows visibly. Deciding to then take matters into her own hands, she reaches forward and grabs Owen by his shirt, pulling him closer to her in between the two front seats, and pressing her lips to his. His tongue slides across her bottom lip almost immediately until y/n allows him the access into her mouth. She pulls backwards, basically pulling the guy in between the seats. He keeps his balance on every surface he can find blindly until he’s on top of y/n, legs on each side of her body, and his left arm lifting up his weight ever so slightly whilst the hand on his right arm finds its way to her boob. It slithers from the hem of her panties all the way up to her bra, leaving a burning sensation on her skin. Y/n’s fingers go back to where they left off at his belt, and swiftly pulls down his pants and boxers, revealing how ready he is for her. Upon feeling his proud member against the skin of her belly, she bites down his lip, eliciting a moan from the boy. “Take my breath away, Rockstar,” she mumbles into his mouth. The boy pulls away to come up for air, both their chests heaving. “It was your turn to bring protection, baby,” he pants, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “It wasn’t, but you’re so lucky I came prepared,” she rolls her eyes and presses her lips to his again whilst pushing him back until he’s sitting up straight. While she rummages through the storage space between the two front seats, Owen works on her neck, nipping at skin and gliding his tongue over the sore spots. When she lays back down underneath the boy, she holds the silver package up to him. He takes it between his teeth and uses his sweet time to put the rubber on. Y/n is getting antsy and starts leaving a trail of wet kisses and hickeys from his neck all the way down to his abs and back up until he’s ready. He slides her red panties off before steadying himself at her entrance and slowly pushes his length in. At first, he’s going slow and sweet, but quickly picks up the pace as y/n’s teeth bite down into his shoulder. Moans and grunts fill up the cramped space, encouraging Owen to go faster. Y/n’s legs wrap around Owen’s waist, shifting ever so slightly and provoking curses to roll off the boy’s lips. He quickly captures her lips with his to muffle the moan and resumes the heated kiss they were sharing before. “Fucking hell, y/n,” he grumbles against her lips. Sweat starts to trickle down Owen’s biceps and down y/n’s spine, the heat of the exertion clouding up the windows of the car. As Owen hits her g-spot, y/n moans out a “fuck” as her fingernails dig into his back for support. He reaches his hand up to the damped window to steady himself as he paces his thrusts. His hips now rock into her very slowly as he’s reaching his climax. “Let me hear you say my name,” she whispers as her fingers slide into his hair and slightly tug at the strands near the nape of his neck. “y/n, baby, I’m nearly there,” he pants and nuzzles his face into her neck, softly nibbling at the skin as he’s riding out his orgasm. “Me too, Rockstar. Give it to me.” Her breath is hot against his ear, sending chills down his spine, and as soon as her teeth nip at his earlobe, he comes undone. He thrusts a couple more times, letting y/n ride out to her climax too before he collapses next to her. Both of them are dissolved into heaving breaths and sweat as y/n shifts to rest her head on Owen’s shoulder whilst his arm wraps around her body tightly. “You took me to new elevations, Rockstar,” y/n sighs and presses a kiss to his naked chest. “You too, Baby,” he replies with a little less enthusiasm than the girl next to him. She leans up on her elbow, looking down at him with worry and confusion written all over her. “Wasn’t it good enough?” she asks as insecurity suddenly takes over. Owen’s eyes widen at this. Of course she’d immediately notice something’s up with him. She’s still his best friend. “No, I mean, yeah! I mean…” he inhales deeply, realizing there’s no correct way to answer this. “You were amazing, y/n. I truly did go to paradise again like you always promise.” He takes her hand into his and intertwines their fingers together before pressing a kiss to her knuckles. Y/n is watching their locked hands, wondering what’s gotten into him all of a sudden. “But?” she asks, “I feel like there’s a but.” “There is a butt and it’s yours and it’s amazing,” he wiggles his eyebrows at the pun he just made, but y/n isn’t too fond of it. He huffs when he realizes changing the subject won’t work on his best friend, and turns his hand to stare at the ceiling, dropping their hands to his stomach in the meanwhile. “What’s wrong, Owen? You know you can tell me,” y/n tries carefully, fighting against the tears pricking in her eyes already. “I’m just not sure if I can do this any longer,” he mumbles. Y/n can feel her heart breaking at the words. She retreats her hand and starts the search for her clothes, but Owen grasping her wrist stops her from doing so. “Not like this, y/n. I know we started this as a I-need-a-fix-help-me-out kinda thing and that you probably don’t feel the same, but I just need you to know that I can’t do this as a friends with benefits type thing anymore.” Y/n stares at him for a moment, unsure if she heard it correctly or if it’s just a lucid dream. “Are you,” she starts and turns to face him again, “Are you serious?” Owen chuckles and pulls her down with him again. As if on automatic, y/n lays her head down on his chest and starts drawing patterns on his chest as he talks. “Of course I’m serious, y/n. You’ve been my best friend for God-knows-how-long, but only because I never saw you in a different light. Now that I’ve seen you in this light, I don’t think I can ever look at you again as my best friend, I --” he cuts himself off, “Well, you’ll always be my best friend, but I’d much rather be able to kiss my best friend and hold her hand as we walk down the street and actually tell people ‘That’s my best friend over there, she’s my girlfriend too’. I don’t wanna have sex in the back of your car at the very back of a desolate McDonald’s parking lot. I wanna have sex with you everywhere!” y/n chuckles at that last part after having her heart melted into a puddle from his sweet words. “I wasn’t trying to fall in love with you either, Owen, but I guess I fucked up as well, so…” y/n mumbles and looks up at him, her eyelashes fluttering against his jaw. “So, no more friends with benefits?” His face lights up with the biggest smile. “No more friends with benefits,” she replies and leans up slightly to press a kiss to his lips. The first sweet and tender kiss. The first without the hunger and passion attached to it. The first of very many. “I love you,” Owen whispers and pecks her forehead. “And I love you.”

*

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Taglist: @hannahhistorian92 @marinettepotterandplagg @thequirkybookaholic @bookdealer5 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @hemmingsness @iainttakingshitfromnobody @ifilwtmfc @angryknightstatesmantrash @kiss-themoongoodbye @rudysbay @thedarkqueenofavalon​ @caitsymichelle13​ @calamitykaty @wiselight @kcd15​ @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic @stars-soph

Lemme know if you wanna be on my taglist! And also lemme know if you don’t wanna be tagged in this type of content. 

#julie and the phantoms #julie and the himbos #owen patrick joyner #owen joyner #owen x reader #owen joyner fic #owen joyner au #alex jatp #jatp #18+

[jockvillagersonly]

hey. hey. so. 28: feeling for each other in the dark for heihua?! since glasses has the low light vision of a CAT, maybe something that takes place during a time when xiaohua doesn't know his sunglasses are to block out light? or: glasses is incapaciated, xiaohua has to find him in the dark. OR: he pretends to be incapacitated and watches xiaohua stumbling around like an idiot

Yeah I bet you thought I fucking forgot didn’t you. NOPE. I DIDN’T.

Cross posted on AO3 || other prompt fic

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

Xiao Hua had never liked the dark.

It was odd for a tomb raider to admit, sure, but Xiao Hua liked things neat and fastidious; the dark hid too much, obscured too much, cloaked too much. The dark let dirt and grime and gore go unnoticed, and Xiao Hua had always preferred to face his demons rather than hide them.

He liked the dark even less when it came with a musty tang on his tongue and the burn of ropes on his skin.

He grimaced and rolled over, pushing himself into an ungainly sitting position, the movements slow and hesitant given both the suffocating lack of light and the lack of mobility around his wrists. A cursory check revealed that his assailants had left his feet untied, likely (and, unfortunately, correctly) trusting the lightless room to hinder Xiao Hua’s movement. He had a few scrapes and bruises, but nothing too serious — thought the faint radial pounding humming quietly to life behind his eyelids left him wondering if he’d taken any hits to the head.

He didn’t quite remember — but that was part of the problem, wasn’t it? The last thing he recalled, he’d been preparing to explore a newly discovered tomb with a small team, having tagged along at Hei Yanjing’s request. He really wasn’t entirely sure why or how he’d ended up here, in a lightless room that smelled like it was at least a few dozen feet underground, with no irritatingly lean, glasses wearing fools in sight.

Which is, of course, when a corner of the room opened and a new body was shoved in, to a soundtrack of expletives. The door was slammed shut as quickly as it had opened, with their captors delivering one final kick to the prone body they’d tossed inside.

Whoever Xiao Hua’s new cellmate (and the brief glimpse of light confirmed his suspicions that it was a cell; he was currently tied in a windowless stone room, with a floor of packed dirt) was, he had clearly been a great annoyance for their captors. He was also wearing black leather, and had long hair, and, when he hit the ground and rolled, Xiao Hua caught sight of shiny black plastic lenses. All in all, he looked a lot like —

“Yanjing??” And Xiao Hua would deny that his voice lilted up with hope and relief until the end of his days. He blushed slightly, embarrassed at the show of vulnerability; if there was any benefit to the pitch dark of their prison, at least Hei Yanjing couldn’t see his expressions. All he got was a muted groan in response. Xiao Hua wasn’t sure what it said about them and the situations they tended to find themselves in that he could recognize Hei Yanjing from subvocal, pained groans alone.

Xiao Hua felt a spike of worry push up through his chest, bitter acid burning in his throat. The other man hadn’t moved at all when he was tossed in here, and now he apparently didn’t even have the energy to banter with Xiao Hua.

He told himself that it’s not that he was worried, but escaping would be extra hard if the other man was dead weight. That’s also why he started feeling his way slowly across the soil floor, tied wrists clunky as he scowled his way through passing his hands over the dirt.

He was adding so much interest to Hei Yanjing’s debt for this. Just as soon as they got out of here, and Xiao Hua took a nice, long shower. Or two.

After another few minutes of painstaking scrabbling, Xiao Hua’s hand hit something that felt like cloth, the cottony smooth drag of worn denim beneath his fingertips. He worked his fingers over the body in front of him, trying to identify where he’d landed and using the opportunity to feel for injuries. He furrowed his brow, focusing: broad muscle, so defined that even the wear-soft fabric pulled tight in places; rivets, metal cold to the touch and maybe indicating pockets; the coarse catch of a loose seam, and there — a torn belt loop.

Wait — a torn belt loop?

Xiao Hua snatched his hands back hurriedly, feeling a flush rising rapidly across his face. He sent up a prayer, voice nearly cracking with desperation even in the sanctity of his own mind: please, please say that he hasn’t been —

“At least take me to dinner first,” came a dry, hoarse voice from his left, and Xiao Hua’s heart sank. Yeah, he had definitely been accidentally feeling Hei Yanjing up.

“Would McDonald’s count? Seems about on par for your standards,” and Xiao Hua pointedly ignored how something loosened in his chest at the banter, at the irrefutable proof that Hei Yanjing was alive, was here, wasn’t bleeding out somewhere alone.

He let himself smile, secret and fond, and once again thanked God for making it so dark there was no way Hei Yanjing could see his expression.

#dmbj #my fic #prompt fic #heihua #sorry if this isn’t good it’s 5 AM lmao

[hinatastinygiant]

Chapter Twenty Five

The Chase

Pairing: Kisaki x Fem!Reader

previous | next | the assassin's betrayal

The next morning you leave your crappy hotel at dawn with your suitcase. You could hardly sleep at all; the people above you were either murdering each other all night or trying to fuck each other into oblivion. Either way, pulling your pillow over your head did not help. And so, here you are, walking with your suitcase in tow over to the bank so you can convert some of your money into dollars. 

Once you leave the bank, you're relieved. Having three million USD is a serious weight off your back. Now you really won't have to go crawling back to that asshole again.

You then get yourself a nice hotel room and plop yourself down on the bed. Finally, you're able to get some sleep in the quiet room and it's not until hours later that you wake up from a serious nap. However, as you do, your stomach begins to rumble.

Gathering a bit of your cash, you walk out of the hotel room and wander down the streets looking for a place to eat. You're only a few blocks down from your hotel when you spot a Mcdonald's and decide on going in. There, you order and carry your food over to a table by the window.

Just as you're stuffing your mouth with your french fries, your attention is pulled away out towards the street for some unknown reason. You peer across the road and find a man sitting on a bench looking down at his phone- a man who looks eerily similar to Aki. Once you make this assumption you nearly choke on your food. The crowd around you gives you a worried look, but you sip on your drink and ignore them like nothing's wrong.

On your way to the garbage can- trying to get the hell out of there as quickly as you can- you swallow down a bit more of your food before wasting it in the garbage. When you then get outside onto the busy street, you tie your hair back as though you're about to go on a run. You've already grown enough attention, so acting like you're on a run is the least you can do to avoid gaining anymore.

As you run, you head towards the direction of the hotel. Even if Aki knows where you're staying, he won't be able to get in without a key. While thinking of him, you turn back and see that he's now chasing after you, careless to whomever he bumps into.

Your stomach churns at the idea of going back to see Kisaki- after all he's done to you, he really expects you to go back to him? Hell. No. 

You turn a corner, hoping to god that he didn't see you as you catch your breath. However, when you hear hurried footsteps draw near, you continue your run. Unfortunately, thanks to your little break, Aki's able to catch up quite easily. He rushes towards you and grabs you by the arm, roughly yanking you back towards him. You let out a gasp and try to pull away, but his grip is unhumanly tight.

“What the hell do you want?!” you shout at him. “Leave me alone!”

“Will you just stop running away so we can talk for a second?!”

“Hate to break it to you, Aki, but nobody wants to ‘talk’ after being chased through town!”

Aki sighs and loosens his grip on you just a bit. “I’m sorry, but please, I think you should hear Kisaki out. Go and talk to him just one more time.”

“No way!” you laugh in his face. “He knows I want nothing to do with him anymore.”

“Don’t be so stubborn! Just give it a try and if you still feel that way, then fine but at least just hear him out,” he replies, letting go of you completely.

You stand still and stare back at him for a moment, contemplating your decision. “Why does he even want to see me?” you then ask quietly.

“He wants to explain everything to you… The reason why he did everything and why it all turned out the way that it did,” he explains.

However, you hardly hear him out before scoffing. “I don’t want to know. I just want to be done with the whole thing.”

“Yeaaah,” he drawls sarcastically before crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes at you. “That ring still on your finger disagrees.”

You quickly hide your hand behind your back, a bit embarrassed that he saw you’re still wearing that, but it’s too late- he’s grinning, knowing how you really feel.

“C’mon,” he hums, “you know the way, too.”

With a frown, you trudge after him. That asshole better keep his promise that you can leave and never have to see Kisaki again after this.

When you get to Kisaki’s house, he sits you down on the sofa. Aki and Kazutora walk out to the back porch with some California weed that’s supposed to be ‘godly’ according to Aki. Then, once the two of you are along, Kisaki begins to explain the situation,

He starts by telling you that he owned a club back in Japan- a ‘Wisteria Club’.

“Some things happened to me and my partner,” he says, shaking his head side to side while hoping you won’t ask about the particulars, “and the club ended up going down. We tried different methods to make it work, but it all became too much in the end…”

“So you left?” you ask aloud.

“With everything going on, it was for the best,” he nods. “One day we can go back, but for now it’s safer for us here. I am sorry for lying to you, but I needed to get us out of there and you’re quite stubborn.”

You sigh and shake your head, doing your best to stay calm even after he called you stubborn. “You’re such an ass.”

“Well you’ve heard me out so the decision is up to you,” he shrugs. “What do you think? Are you going to stay here or start your own life in America?”

You look down at your hands in your lap and contemplate for a moment. “Yeah,” you say with a small grin, “it would be nice to go back eventually.”

Kisaki takes you by the cheek and gently tilts your head to face him. “I’ll be happy as long as you stay with me,” he says softly.

You smile at his words. “I really hate you, you know,” you scoff. “You make me fucking crazy.”

“I could say the same about you,” he hums, leaning closer until kissing you. You wrap your arms around him and kiss him back. With eyes fluttering closed, you simply picture just being happy in the moment and you’re pleased with your decision to stay.

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Taglist: @hanmascult @kokotakeomi @hana-patata

#kisaki x reader #kisaki x you #kisaki x y/n #tetta kisaki x reader #tetta kisaki x you #tetta kisaki x y/n #kisaki tetta x reader #kisaki tetta #tetta kisaki #x fem!reader #x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers series #tokyo revengers self insert #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev x you #tokyo rev x y/n #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo revengers x y/n #hinatastinygiant #fanfiction series #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #wattpad #the assassin's betrayal

[artificialqueens]

Backyard Boy (Gottrosenali) - Pinkgrapefruit

a/n -

special thanks to the druk discord for both their help with gottrosenali as a whole and the enby central station for their invaluable help in my portrayal of a trans character. also thanks to frey for her infinite wisdom when it comes to grammar.

i really hope you like it so please let me know how you feel!!!

*

Dance with me in my backyard, boy

Looking super fine in your corduroy

Drive me ‘round the block

We can go in a loop

And we’ll turn the volume up on some

Good boy band tunes

*

Mik leans forward, head bumping against one of the front seats as he attempts to grab Denali’s phone from the cup holder. She doesn’t notice, too focused on navigating towards the Mcdonald’s, but Rosé does, and she slaps his hand like a small child.

“I love you baby boy, but I’d rather Nali drive us into a wall before I let you play Gaga one more time.” She sounds grumpy, but Mik can search out the soft undertone and he rubs a thumb over her hand before he leans back. He sighs in relief, twisting a little to try and release some of the pressure from his binder before he sits back.

“God, someone needs to get some food into you,” he jokes and he watches as Denali places her hand on Rosé’s thigh - the pink-haired girl has always been the worst for being hangry.

It’s their lunch break, and they’ve escaped into town to get a McDonald’s before they have to sit through another hour of school. There isn’t a lesson they share between the three of them, so they relish in this time together.

“Drive-thru or eat in?” Denali calls out, her volume always a little too loud for the tiny Volkswagen she drives.

“Uh,” Mik replies, “I’m paying and I need a wee, so I reckon we go inside and then eat in the car.”

Rosé grunts, and he sees Denali’s thumb slide over her tights before she sighs. “You know I hate it when we eat in here,” she moans, but then she catches his eye and rolls her own. “But sure.”

Mik pumps his fist in triumph and, once they’re parked up, makes sure to give Denali a quick peck on the forehead before intertwining his fingers with Rosé’s. Denali wipes the Carmex off her forehead with an affectionate scowl, patting his ass in return before skipping ahead to open the door.

“My loves,” she bows her head, waving her hand in a comically large gesture that makes even Rosé crack a smile.

“Chivalry ain’t dead. He hears her mutter under her breath, and he laughs in response, loving the way her eyes brighten up when he does.

He orders for them, Rosé in too much of a grump to avoid yelling at the poor cashiers, and Nali with just a little too much anxiety. He notes down the orders on his phone like a good boyfriend and then relays them perfectly, adding on a bag of mozzarella sticks because he knows Rosé will try and steal his.

"Ladies,” he bows as he holds out the brown paper bag, and Rosé loops a hand through his arm. He loves it when she allows herself to be clingy, and Denali does too, so they let her whenever she feels it - even if it means having to guide a dead weight back to the car.

She sighs and flutters her eyes open when she’s back into the passenger seat before snorting a chuckle that makes Denali do a double-take from the fries she’d been devouring.

She points hazily at the paper bag. “Mik-Donalds-” she jokes.

“Fuck,” Mik says, leaning forward again from the back seat to drop a peck on Rosé’s cheek. “God, I love you.”

Denali places a palm on his cheek while he’s still leaning forward. “Same,” she sighs. “Same.

*

I can feel the fresh air

I can feel your eyes stare

And I’m not gonna lie

I get a little bit scared

My heart is on wings

I’m living in dreams

And at the top of our lungs, we sing

*

He lets his back hit the locker with a clang, double-checking the number because even after a year and a bit of dating he’s still never quite sure which locker belongs to Rosé. Luckily, he’s proven to be correct when Denali skips over to him, slipping her hand into his and leaning her head on his arm with a deep sigh.

"Spanish not doing it for you?” he jokes, tilting his head so it rests on top of hers, watching the rest of the students trail out of the class.

“Not last period,” she sighs, rubbing her temple with her index finger. “I’m getting a headache I swear.” She angles her head to check Mik’s watch and clicks her tongue. “Where’s Rosie,” she whines, much to Mik’s amusement.

“Rehearsals will be running late,” he tells her, enjoying the way she’s curling further into his side as the bell chimes loudly above them.

She harrumphs, mewling even more as he pulls away from her side, placing his rucksack on the ground and rummaging around for the painkillers he tends to keep. He finds them, and hands them to her alongside a bottle of water that she grasps quickly, swallowing the pills with a happy sigh. When he stands, he lets her fall back under his arm and he traces patterns on her back, muttering about his senior textiles project while she butts in with questions.

As the 3:15 bell chimes, they watch the last dregs of students trail out of the door, and Mik starts to suck at his teeth in frustration. He knows he’s done the same thing when engrossed in a project, eyes only focusing on the way the needle goes through the fabric, but he can’t bring himself not to be irritated when Rosé hasn’t even texted.

“Ah, the prophetic daughter returns,” Denali mocks from in his shirt, pulling him out of his thoughts and making him turn towards the theatre department where Rosé is jogging casually down the hall.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” she calls, sliding slightly as her worn converse lack grip on school linoleum. She comes to a halt, hands on his bare arms, lips pressed against his cheek in a chaste peck. She does the same to Denali in apology, and although the girl still looks grumpy, there’s a flicker of warmth in her eyes.

“You’re driving home,” she says bluntly, handing over her keys with a scowl before turning to the door, and Rosé looks at Mik questioningly.

“Headache,” he tells her, and she nods knowingly.

“Migraine?”

“Not yet.” She sighs, shaking the keys in her hand to elicit a pleasant jingle, but Mik notices how it makes Denali wince. “Soon,” he amends before jogging to catch up to her - knowing the sun will do little to improve her mood.

“Sleepover it is,” Rosé sighs to herself, unlocking the car from a distance and watching as he helps Denali into the passenger seat - all too aware that the last time she was in the backseat with a migraine, it went terribly. She smiles, she’s not sure how she got so lucky.

*

Da da da da da da

Da da da da da da

Everything is perfect

Da da da da da da

Da da da da da da

All our words were worth it

*

Mik’s been going to the gym to cope wth his dysphoria, and it shows in the way his shoulders are getting broader and his muscles more defined. An extra bonus is the way it means he can cradle Denali in his arms, carrying her easily up the stairs. He lets her rest her head in the crook of his neck and relents when she tries to get him into bed with her, curling around her and sending Rosé off to search for Denali’s rescue meds.

She brings a glass of water and a sticky cold patch with her, which she applies gently to Denali’s forehead, coaxing a whimper out of her. They get her to swallow the pill, and then Rosé closes the curtains, padding around quietly before sliding into the bed next to them both.

Neither quite know what they would do if Denali’s migraines made her sensitive to touch as well as light and sound (they’re all too affectionate to try and withhold touch), but they’ve lived through enough of them that they know that with a dose of medication and a few hours in the dark she tends to be good as new.

They’re right, though the attack does relegate them to ordering pizza and eating it in Rosé’s ridiculously large bed (or at least this is the excuse they use on her mum when she looks at them disapprovingly).

Denali presses a kiss to Rosé’s bare shoulder and the pink-haired girl rolls over, placing a hand next to each of her shoulders and hovering above Denali with a wicked grin until Mik pokes his finger into her side and she collapses. Denali lets out a yelp, but she’s giggling while Rosé curses them both for ruining her moment.

“No funny business while Nali’s drugged up,” Mik reminds her gently - a rule they had to put into place after they made the side effects of her meds ten times worse due to some rougher activities.

It’s a situation that they’re not particularly willing to repeat.

Rosé rolls over Denali again until she’s in between them, sighing contentedly when Mik rests his head on her chest. “Movie?” she asks quietly.

“Disney!” Denali suggests, before wincing ever so slightly at the pitch of her own voice. She runs a hand through Mik’s hair and then places her head on Rosé’s other shoulder.

“I’m down for that,” Mik agrees.

“UP?”

“That’s Pixar, god, Rosie, know your animated films.”

“Potato, Potato,” Rosé replies, clicking on the title on Disney+ before tossing the remote to the side.

They don’t mention Rosé crying when Ellie dies.

They fall asleep to the end credits.

*

Da da da da da da

Da da da da da da

Dancing around like a clown at the circus

Da da da da da da

Da da da da da da

Backyard boy, you make me nervous

*

Mik wakes up to aching in his lower abdomen and it sends a shiver of fear down his spine. His boxers feel slightly damp, and he’s grateful that he fell asleep with his head on Rosé’s chest.

He flips the soft comforter over so he can see the sheets, and the sight of the blood makes him more nauseous than his cramps. He weighs his options for a second before gently stroking Denali’s cheek with a sigh.

“Baby,” he says with a quick glance at Rosé’s lit up alarm clock. It’s four am. “Uh, Nali.” Denali lifts her head from Rosé’s shoulder and blinks her eyes expectantly. They’re bleary and she lifts a hand to rub at them before she properly focuses on Mik.

In the dim room, she can see the dark patch on the white bottom sheet and she gently palms his face.

“Let’s get you cleaned up love,” she says with an apologetic smile. He nods and watches as she rolls out of the wide double and swiftly locates the pair of period pants he keeps in a hidden pocket of his duffle. She looks between them and a tampon before tossing the tampon onto Rosé’s desk and then hands them to Mik, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. “Go on, love.” She nods towards the bathroom and he smiles weakly, watching her shake Rosé awake with a gentle hand.

When he gets back, the bedside lamps are on and Rosé is stripping the bed, tossing the spoiled sheets into a pile on the floor. When he looks around for Denali, she stops and walks over to him, palming his chest over his t-shirt and snuggling into him the best she can with the small height difference.

“She’s gone to get the Nurofen and a hot water bottle,” she tells him - voice hoarse from sleep.

“I’m sorry-” Mik starts to say, but Rosé cuts him off with a steady hand on the side of his head.

“You don’t have to apologise for anything Gottlieb,” she asserts firmly. “It’s a natural thing that happens to bodies and you wouldn’t let me or Nali say shit if it were us-”

She looks sternly.

“-would you?” He nods in acquiescence and jumps a little when he feels a warm hand on his upper arm. He smells the coconut shampoo of Nali’s hair before he sees her.

“You wouldn’t let Rosie apologise when she bled on your favourite hoodie,” reminds Denali softly, handing him two tablets and a small tumbler of water before exchanging them for a hot water bottle. He sighs when he tucks it into his abdomen, and they make him sit at Rosé’s desk while they bustle around sorting out new bedsheets.

Rosé’s mum pops her head round the door at one point, causing Mik to flush red, though Denali waves her off. “Don’t worry about this, Mrs McCorkel.” She smiles wearily. “Periods.” She shrugs, and Rosé’s mum laughs, shutting the door with a low thud.

They all crawl back into bed, Rosé insisting on spooning him from behind while he holds Denali close. She presses her lips to the back of his neck, and he can feel her smile into the skin.

“You’re my favourite man, handsome,” she states, warmth in her voice. “I love you.”

He buries his face into Denali’s hair and lets the warmness lull him back to sleep.

*

Dance with me in my backyard, boy

Looking super fine in your corduroy (five, six, seven, eight)

Roll the windows down

Let the base drop low

And everybody’s talking

But I don’t wanna know

*

Denali yelps, pulling back from where she’d been straddling Mik in such a way that makes them both fall off the window seat and tumble onto the floor. Rosé looks over at them and scowls, a highlighter in her hand. She makes an obscene gesture with it and then sets it down.

“Can you two be horndogs literally anywhere else,” she asks, exasperated, and they both fall into giggles.

“I’m sorry!” Denali squeals as Mik runs a hand down her side. “Your boyfriend just gave me carpet burn from his damn moustache.”

Mik looks up, somewhere between awestruck and dazed.

“Maybe it’s retaliation for you giving me rug burn,” Rosé quips with a wink before looking at their boyfriend, who’s doing a perfect meerkat expression. Before she can blink, he’s on his feet and running towards the bathroom, where they hear a sharp squeak of excitement.

She holds a hand out to Denali who pulls her out of her chair, and they let their interlocked fingers swing together as they wander over to follow him.

In the middle of the counter, next to three empty vials of testosterone, is Mik. His eyes wide and unblinking, fingers stretching the skin of his upper lip so he can pinpoint a single pale brown hair.

Denali places a featherlight kiss on his exposed shoulder and then reaches to touch it, pulling back in mock anguish.

“Ouch!” she shouts, and Rosé stifles a giggle at her antics, rubbing a hand on Mik’s back to try and gauge how he’s feeling. He sighs into the touch and his shoulders relax a bit.

“That’s one special little dude you’ve got there, bubs,” she tells him with a look of pride on her face. “I think it needs a name.”

Denali looks at her and shakes her head, but Mik is already nodding slowly. “Jeremy,” he says, voice full of conviction.

“We’re not naming his face pube,” Denali fights back, hoisting herself up onto the counter so she can look closer. She ruffles his hair with her fingers and he swats her away.

“Two against one, love,” Rosé points out. “Jeremy the destroyer.”

She leans up and kisses his top lip. “There is now a fourth in this relationship,” she announces smugly, raising an eyebrow at Denali, who holds her hands up. Mik looks between the two of them in amusement.

“I’m not going to kiss the face pube-”

“He has a name,” Rosé cuts her off with a grin.

“I’m not going to kiss Jeremy the destroyer,” Denali responds petulantly, throwing a slightly damp flannel at her from beside the sink.

“Do you not support your boyfriend?” Rosé catches it and tries to throw it back, but Mik grabs it out of the air, holding onto it so he doesn’t get one in the face.

“Rosie McCorkel, you little bitch.”

Mik watches them, dismayed, but incredibly entertained. “Fucking lesbians,” he mutters under his breath, still smiling.

*

Feel the fresh air

I can feel your eyes stare

And I’m not gonna lie

I get a little bit scared

And my heart is on wings

I’m living in dreams

And at the top of our lungs, we sing

*

Denali smiles at him as she slips out of the glass door, wincing a little as her bare feet touch the sun-bleached patio stones. He feels Rosé flick some water at him from her place in the pool, but he flips her off, beckoning to Denali, who does an awkward little hop-scotch across the hot yard until she can slide down next to him on the sun-lounger.

He places a gentle hand on her exposed hip, but she clicks her tongue at him. “Mikkk,” she whines, and he places a kiss on her temple before he slides off the sun lounger and moves down to sit on the edge of the pool.

It’s such a hot day that even the lukewarm water on his legs feels like an ice bath, and he desperately wants to take his baggy shirt off, but the idea of sitting outdoors in a sports bra makes him squirm a little. Rosé’s neighbours could see.

She seems to catch his discomfort and she swims up to him, placing one hand on each of his thighs to hold herself up in the water.

“You’re so short,” he teases gently, but she just hoists herself up, straining her neck to place a wet kiss on his chin. She snorts into it and falls backwards, flailing in the water so he gets covered in a fine spray.

“You need to calm down,” he tells her, hearing Denali chuckle in the background.

“Come and make me,” Rosé replies as she swims further away. She tries to shake her ass at him - skimpy pink bikini bottoms pulled high up onto her hips - but she falls forward, head going under the water again.

“Did she ever learn to swim?” Denali asks between loud slurps of ice-cold lemonade, the book she was reading in the shade long forgotten.

“I really couldn’t tell you.”

He turns back to the pool and sees Rosé sitting on one of the bottom steps, hair ties in hand as she tries to braid her thick, pink hair - her fingers fumbling in an attempt that can only be deemed pitiful. He sighs, moving to sit behind her so his swimming trunks are completely submerged. She leans back into him gratefully, and he takes the hair bobbles willingly, weaving her two french braids.

He’s about to move after he finishes when he hears wet footsteps.

“Don’t run, love!” calls Rosé, paddling next to Mik so she’s leaning on the edge of the pool. Denali just scoffs, skidding on the water until she can dive straight into the deep end of the pool. He winces as she does it, hand reaching out to grip Rosé’s, but they both know that her ice-skater balance will save her. She does a messy front stroke over to her partners, her costume glittering in all of its tacky-mermaid glory.

Denali slides between his legs and tips her head back for a kiss, pouting until he gives her a chaste kiss, and then indulging Rosé, who scrunches her nose at the momentary lack of affection.

Mik sighs, pulling Denali’s long hair out of the messy bun it’s in and separating it into two. “Thank you, Mik, we love you, Mik, you’re the best boyfriend ever, Mik,” he moans, letting his fingers slide through her hair like silk.

Rosé tries to hide her laughter in a cough.

It doesn’t work.

*

Da da da da da da

Da da da da da da

Everything is perfect

Da da da da da da

Da da da da da da

All our words were worth it

*

The euphoria he feels with a pride flag wrapped around his shoulders, billowing behind him like a cape, is unreal. He feels like he could fly if he wasn’t holding hands with Denali, who’s keeping him firmly grounded, and he’s making sure she doesn’t run off and get lost while Rosé has gone to find drinks.

Luckily, they see her before she sees them - Mik is a full head taller than Denali in his platform combat boots and can just about see over the crowd, so he spots the glitter down Rosé’s parting. She’s carrying three plastic cups with straws, and she’s trailed by a sapphic pride flag that’s looped through her belt loops, so it surrounds her denim cut-offs like a skirt.

They’d had a long conversation about the flag - she and Mik sat on the porch with coffee in hand. She’d bought it before they got together and she’s right when she says it looks pretty with her hair - the shades of pink all muddling together until she looks like a ball of cotton candy. He’d smiled and taken her hand in his, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to her hair that still smelled of sleep and Denali’s perfume.

“I know you think of me as a man,” he’d said, feeling her squeeze his hand in acknowledgement, “and I know you like women.”

“I just don’t want you to feel left out,” she’d said, poking her tongue into her coffee to check its temperature before taking a long sip. Denali padded out onto the porch, bare feet on the wooden slats. She was wrapped in a tartan blanket and she sat down next to Mik with a huff, laying her head on his shoulder and closing her eyes.

“I’ll survive not being the centre of your attention babe,” he’d joked. And that had been it.

It was the right thing to say because she looks radiant in the sun, and he takes the cold peach lemonade gratefully, handing off Nali-watch to Rosé as he adjusts his trans flag in a shop window.

He re-ties Denali’s bi flag while he’s at it, looping it through the straps of her dungarees so it won’t come loose in the crowd. She turns around and smiles gratefully, placing a soft hand on his barely-there stubble.

Rosé called them disgusting when she first saw them this morning, side by side in their matching crop tops and dungaree shorts. He’s got his own over a nude binder, and it’s the closest he’s ever felt to being shirtless, even with the way his chest is sweating in the summer heat. He knows Rosé’s rucksack has a spare top and bra for him - it’s a part of the reason why he loves her.

“All good?” Rosé asks, adjusting one of the pins in Denali’s flower crown (pink, blue and white) out of habit. She presses a quick kiss to the tip of Denali’s nose and then checks her braids in the shop window too.

“Am I still on Nali-watch?” Mik asks, half-joking and offering his arm for her to take, to which Denali laughs and waves her hand.

“I can get places myself, guys,” she giggles.

“You absolutely cannot,” Mik tells her, raking his hand through his sweaty curls.

“Not if we wanna get there on time,” chimes in Rosé, taking Denali’s hand and swinging it between them. “Now, come on!”

*

Da da da da da da

Da da da da da da

Dancing around like a clown at the circus

Da da da da da da

Da da da da da da

*

“We have a present for you,” Denali tells him, watching him comb hair gel through his curls in an attempt to tame them before he puts his graduation cap on. He smiles, watching her in the mirror as she curls the back of Rosé’s hair with deft fingers. Rosé flicks her eyes up from the eyeshadow palette she’s looking at, a small smirk playing on her lips, and she goes to say something, but then she stops herself.

“Well, now I’m excited,” he tells them, placing his tie loosely around his neck and leaning back against the countertop, watching them adoringly.

It’s moments like this that he just can’t believe his luck - how he’s got two beautiful women to call his own. Denali is a vision in lilac - a fitted bodice moving into a flared skirt that reminds him of the skating videos her mum showed him at Christmas. Her newly bleached hair is in a braid over her shoulder, and the loose baby hairs that just won’t submit to hair spray make him want to tuck them gently behind her ear.

Rosé resolutely told them she wanted them to die for her, and she’s really trying in a pink, bardot dress that shows too much cleavage to be appropriate for graduation. He supposes she wants to go out with a bang, and he’s not complaining, but he might need a moment before they leave just to collect himself.

“You look flustered,” smirks Rosé with one eyebrow quirked. It pulls him out of his throughs, and he flushes a darker shade of red at the comment.

“Stop teasing him,” Denali tells her, moving to put on some lip gloss before he can steal one last kiss. “I wanna get onto the surprise.”

“Impatient baby,” Mik jokes to get the heat off himself, and she bats a blush brush at him. He’s about to respond when Rosé places a hand on his cheek, guiding his body around so she can fasten his navy blue tie.

“Be good,” she tells him with a tap on the nose. “Now stay here for a second.”

He waits quietly in the bathroom while his girlfriends hurry off, coming back after a few minutes with an envelope and a tentative look on both of their faces. Denali hangs back, leaning against the doorframe with a crinkled nose while Rosé moves forward and holds out the envelope. She waves it at him and he takes it, feeling its weight in his hands. It’s light, but there’s something about it. He can’t figure out what it is.

He shoves a makeup brush under the seal and rips it across, drawing a snigger out of Denali, and Rosé rolls her eyes at them, holding out her hand for her makeup brush because she doesn’t trust him with it.

He holds it out of apprehension and he hears someone click their tongue at him with impatience.

Slowly, Mik pulls out a single sheet of paper and his breath hitches.

“No,” he exhales, feeling his tailbone hit the edge of the countertop in a way he knows will hurt later. He blinks a couple of times and the envelope falls out of his hands, grabbed by Denali who swoops in, placing a warm palm on his upper arm.

“Yes,” replies Rosé, a smile in her voice.

It’s a GoFundMe receipt printed on flimsy copy paper totalling just over $5000. He doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“The whole year pitched in - the school really,” Denali murmurs, her hand on him a grounding presence that keeps him tethered to this reality.

“I don’t know what to say.” He’s being totally honest, voice shaking under the weight of his emotions. It’s everything he’s ever wanted and he’d resigned himself to another four or five years without that. “It’s freedom.”

“You deserve it, love,” Rosé tells him, her smile softer than he’s seen in a while - softer than she tends to go without Denali pouting at her.

Denali reaches up and swipes the pad of her thumb under his eye to catch the tears he didn’t know were falling before straightening his tie and placing a firm hand on his chest.

“Come on handsome,” she tells him, taking a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

*

Backyard boy, you make me nervous

#rpdr fanfiction #pinkgrapefruit #gottmik #rosé #denali foxx #denali x gottmik x rosé #poly #high school au #transboy mik #trans character #fluff #tw periods #tw dysphoria #its basically just cute #yes i consulted actual trans people #i fucking hate tagging oh lord #uhhhh stan V she’s great #concrit welcome but i have anxiety so be nice xo