#yet excruciatingly far | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bwere · 20 days

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HOW THEY E4T YOU OUT !

choso, nanami, gojo, geto, sukuna, toji

3.3k+ wc — pssy eatin, spnking, degradation, sqrting [request are always open] mdni + not proofread

CHOSO KAMO

Devours you every chance he gets as if he’s going to die if he doesn't.

His eyes were tired and his back was slumped when he arrived home like usual. On the days when he needs to leave for work and return once more, his muscle memory always searches for you before anything else.

He came in, forgot to take off his shoes, his phone in hand and an exhausted look on his face.

“Bad day Cho’?” you asked.

“M’just tired.” He hummed out.

“Aww i’m sorry Cho’ how can I make you feel better?”

“Can I see her?”

୨୧

“Mmngh can never get enough of your pretty pussy, baby— please.. she’s sho’ mghn delicious..”

Choso is a man who makes you tremble while he cries as he proceeds to eat your soul out. A man who cums in his pants just by looking at your pussy as if it were his first time seeing it. Because he doesn’t want to do anything but eat your pussy and make you feel good.

It was over the moment you allowed this man to taste you. His only desire now—was to have his face permanently pressed into your folds.

Choso keeps his face inside your pussy as if he were scuba diving, fuck the goggles. He thinks eating you out only ended successfully based on how messy he was when he finished.

With both palms keeping you spread open nice and wide for him. Like there’s a reward beyond the coma inducing orgasm destined to be achieved for the both of you when he’s done. He wants to see your cunt in full view, and access to every nook and cranny possible.

He’s needy and messy, he’ll stuff his face like he lost his house keys in your cervix. And doesn’t see himself done until, your juices are soaking more than just the bedsheets. He aims to see the mixed cum and saliva dripping down his chin and far past his stomach.

He just can’t help it, he wants to make you feel so good he's a pussy pleaser.

“F-fuck baby mmnghm, am i doin’ ghud p-pretty?..” he whines, his eyes hazy and lusted as his tongue makes rounds on your clit. Sucking and mumbling with his mouth full.

“y-yes jus’ like that cho’ so good f’me mmm…” you struggle, your palms ruffling through his hair for support.

“S-so good..thank you–mnuh thank you..” He slobbers sweet nothings to himself as the thousands of taste buds on his tongue individually roam in and out of your folds. Leaving no bare of your skin un-sampled. Tasting everything there is to taste without fail.

“Uhng, cho’ r-right there m’so close..!”

Abusing your clit with ease as he promptly twists and prods his fingers out and back in. “you gonna come? n-not yet, m’ not done—keep going just a little more..baby pleashh~”

NANAMI KENTO

Caresses you with one goal in mind, that is the satisfaction that comes with making you finish.

When you knocked on his door and made your way inside, he was in a virtual conference.

The mere sight of him making your pussy excruciatingly wet.

His arms were visibly exposed, and his sleeves were rolled up. His clothing appeared tighter, especially with the veins on his skin throbbing. The buttons on his shirt could have easily burst from the way they were begging to be undone.

He glanced at you and motioned silently for you to come sit on his knee while he muted his call.

"baby, what's wrong?" he asks, sliding a hand to your waist to hold you in place on his thigh.

“Nothinnn’ just miss you is all,” you lie, leaning down to give him a quick kiss to his temple.

“Is that so?” he questions, his glasses slipping down just enough to reveal his content eyes.

“Mhmm I reaaally missed you ken’”

"I can feel you rocking your weight on my thigh, so don't lie to me."

୨୧

“Sit on my face baby—let me take care of you”

Although Kento Nanami is always pent-up, he is able to maintain his composure. He can, has, and will keep going for hours. He will drop to his knees and encircle your thighs with his huge arms the moment you ask him to. With his face burying deeper into your cunt as if he were employed on a graveyard shift from 9 to 5.

After all, he's a gentleman, which means that he's hooked on seeing your body shake just by making out with your cunt. The boulder in his pants twitching with every lustful movement the scene in front of him causes.

He’d never stop until you finish, making sure you emptied all you had on his tongue, before he makes you do it again on his dick.

“Umngh– that feel good sweetheart?” He goes on, your shaky legs being forced apart by his grasp so they are unable to get in the way of his view.

“Mhmm–keep going ken’ feels soo good..” you moan.

Kentos a clit lover. He never concludes these sessions until your clit is puffy and your pussy is gaping from his fingers.

And every time you are at a loss for words, frantically seeking for something to cling onto, he leaves a mental note that makes you whimper when he does it again.

He stones both his middle and ring fingers inside of you despite never once letting go of that puffy clit he deems so tasty. He sucks, strokes, and makes out with your pussy like a natural.

He’s the type to have an area 51 lockdown on your thighs, the type to let you grab a fistful of his hair and let you ride his face at any tempo your little heart desires. His palms rubbing circles on the inside of your thighs—leading you to your final destination.

“You’re doing so good—that's it, make me taste how good im doing love...”

GOJO SATORU

Loves the way you give up under his touch, fighting against the orgasm he’s gonna take from you.

“Satoru Gojo, knock it off..!” you huffed out. you had enough of him toying with you all day.

He asked to go with you on your errands and promised not to get in the way.

Yet he’s been teasing you all day, telling you how good he’s gonna fuck your brains out. Putting his hand on your thigh in the car, just to play coy and ‘accidentally’ slip a finger through the hems of your panties.

Even as you were trying to reach an agreement on a new game for you and him to play, he made attempts to grind your ass against him.

"Huuh? Satoru Gojo? Who’s that? M’names toru," he chuckles.

"We’re in public, Satoru. You’re being so annoying." you groan rolling your eyes at him, before moving on to the next row.

"Whattt, a man can’t love on his girlfriend nowadays?” he exaggerates, following immediately behind you, copying your steps.

୨୧

“P-Put it in already toru’…!” you whined.

“You weren't this eager for me earlier…” he gasped dramatically, kissing up your thigh, pulling your panties down in the opposite direction.

“Quit teasing Toru’ jus’ need you in me...”

“If you wan’ it inside, gotta show me how eager you are to cum on my face baby...”

You won't believe how sloppy and vulgar this man is when he's eating you out.

Your eyes will be drawn to the back of your head by him. He'll put his blindfold over your eyes and make you only able to see stars.

His thick and lengthy fingers have enough ability to take the wind right out of your lungs and reach farther than any toy could alone.

“Hah..c-can’t toru’,” struggling to catch your breath, you try to push his face away.

He’s a man who makes sure to pleasure you first. And makes you cum no less than twice on his tongue. He swallows everything he can, and makes you cum again if he didn’t get it all the first time.

"C'monnn baby—mmnm, know your pussy got another one in her, tell her to give it to me.." he laughs.

Satoru loves to watch your body unfold under him. He adores the way your throat reaches the highest octave you can afford to give. The way he pulls countless moans out of your throat, causing your voice to crack. He loves to hear how much your ‘can't take it toru’” fuel his ego just so he can get ready to show you just how much he’ll make you take it.

He finger fucks you like crazy. Maintaining the pad of his thumb on your clit while stuffing your cunt onto his fingers in a rhythmic motion. He never wastes time to put his mouth to work.

“Too much toru’ gonna squ—nghmm..!” you yelp, getting cut off by the way he scoots your ass closer to his face—allowing him to focus on the deep areas within your pussy, causing you to squirt then and there without the ability to stop.

“Good fuckin’ job baby–wouldve mmhp- brought an umbrella if I knew it was gonna rain today,”

“...”

GETO SUGURU

He takes his time eating you out, he just wants to see how desperate you can get for him.

"You were moving so much, love. What's the matter? Had a nightmare?" Geto asks out to you.

Gaining consciousness slowly, you watch the strands of his hair fall, concealing his half open eyes, before he pushes them back over his head.

Initially he turned away from you in an attempt to cool down your side of the bed since he believed you could have been feeling too hot. But when you kept shuffling under the blankets, he decided to wake you up.

"Mmm, no, it was more like auhh..." you pause, pondering on what you’re going to say, sitting up to rest against the headboard of the bed.

"Like what?" he inquires, positioning himself to align with your stance.

"You know..." You feel a little ashamed at the thought, but you avoid his gaze until you hear his laugh fill the room.

“Aw my pretty girl havin’ wet dreams about me?”

Throwing a pillow at his face as you huff out, “It’s not funny Sugu’, I genuinely couldn’t sleep…!”

“Why don’t you show me what I did in your dream then, hm?”

୨୧

“Go on uhmngh, let’s make your dream come true–as much as your pretty mmh.. pussy desires,”

Geto wants to see how horny you really are for him. He adores nothing but to see how desperate you really are to get off.

“uhhuhnn r-right there baby..” your breath hitching, while you ride up and down his mouth.

He watches you mindlessly use him like you’re the one in control. He’ll let you fuck his fingers—your nails clenching the strands of his hair, undoing the bun he wrapped up prior.

He feels the way the heels of your feet are snug deep in his broad shoulders. And he doesn’t care, because all Geto can care about is the way you’re haphazardly slamming your pussy in his face without loss.

He’ll agree when you say you need a moment, only to slam you back down on his face when your movement starts to slow. He’ll latch around your waist with the fore of his arms, and shove himself deep between your thighs.

“Sugu’ mnghn—slow down p-please..!” Playing dumb on how your vindications for him slow down fall on stone-deaf ears.

“Mmmnghm you said faster? sure thing baby..” Smirking into your clit while he devours you—his grip only gets tighter, mocking the same way your fingers begin to tighten against his scalp.

“Mmmn sugu’…don’t stop…c-cummin’ nghh-guh!”

Geto damn near inhales your cunt at this point, giving himself no air as he breathes and digests everything that comes out of your pussy, emphasising the slurping noises his lips bring as they're mingled in your folds while you squirt in his mouth.

“Atta girl..Can’t sleep now though, might as well keep goin’ till sunrise.”

SUKUNA RYOMEN

He wants to drain the thoughts from your mind and watch you falter under him.

“Why are you ignoring me?” you press, but get an annoyed sigh in response.

You’ve asked him to let you accompany him multiple times so you could watch him box-train, and while usually he says no–today he said yes as an excuse to show off his pretty fiancé. Yet, he was pissed when he watched a group of shirtless scumbags surrounding you with brags about their meager accomplishments.

He saw you giggling up a storm but you weren’t laughing because of him and that thought alone made his blood boil.

"I was just bein’ nice Kuna’, so I'm not sure why you have an attitude."

"Maybe it's caus' you wanna go around flirtin' with every guy in the damn gym." Sukuna scolds, pulling his duffel bag out to put away his gloves—rolling his eyes in advance as he slams his locker door.

"I did not try to flirt! They came up to me, asked about you and then the talk continued. A cordial discussion some might say," you joke.

“Oh yeah? What were they sayin’ then?” he scoffs, raising an eyebrow at your remark, leaning against the locker doors, an action forbidding you to walk away.

୨୧

“T-They we’re just sayingnn t-that you..—you mghn!”

Sukuna either goes all out or doesn’t, and when it comes to you, going all out is just the tip of the iceberg.

He’s a man who hates getting dirty, but when it’s your cunt? You know it’s ate right when your mattress is stained through like a sponge.

“I-I what brat? Spit it out." he spites, making fun of your efforts to speak—his fingers breaking and entering you with ease.

Sukuna's cruel and wicked, if you will. He has your pussy leaking and accessible to him completely. Eating and finger fucking you enduringly.

The filthy squelches and slurps fill both your ears whilst he fingers you till your internal juices coats his fingertips.

“That you–hah…w-win lots mphm…K-kuna pleash..!..can’t breathe..please..” you begin to writhe beneath his lips, swallowing in shock at his ruthless touch.

You can tell him to let you breathe and that you can no longer cum, all you want, but he doesn't bother to listen.

The palms of his hand repeatedly make contact with your ass, torturing the skin below them and causing acute pain on your cheeks, leaving no place for pity.

“Yeah? s’that why you were gigglin’ and given fuck me eyes?”

He makes it his mission every time to eat you so good no matter what you do it’ll never be enough. He’ll make sure those half assed attempts to get off alone don’t result in a happy ending without him.

“Mmgnh n-no! I wasn’t–ah..promise–I p-promise k-kuna’ please it hurts..!”

“You wanna play bimbo while I’m trainin’, but actin’ all innocent when we’re alone?” he hisses.

With his tongue stretching deeper than any man could ever hope to, he gives himself the advantage to tongue-fuck you all over by moving his palms under your lower back, titling your pussy deeper on his face.

“N-no!...g– mmm g-gonna’ cum..! so—close kuna..”

He finds it amusing how sensitive you are. “mnnguh …cum brat—since that's all y’wanna be good for.”

“K-Kuna m-mmmngh—!...”

Only allowing you a few moments to return to consciousness before he's prepared to fold you again like an expert origami master at work.

“Who said I was done? Open your legs n’ give me another one whore.”

TOJI FUSHIGURO

Wants to humiliate you as you squirm and watch him violate your folds.

Toji didn’t play when it came to his gym routine and to have you with him every night as his gym partner was even better. He said he would take care of it for you, when you looked into what to wear to the gym, and he did just that.

He got you a matching colored windbreaker and Nike biker shorts. He wasn't giving it any consideration at first, merely noting that it'd be more breathable.

Up until the moment he realised he was staring at your ass each time you got on the treadmill. Addicted to the way the material made your ass appear, as you passed by his station.

His cock tensed because of the way the dark velvety material flaunted every curve of your pussy when you moved.

Sensing you approaching him as he was finishing up a set on the weighted arm raises—he dwelled more on the way your ass seemed to converse with him while he watched you slip into his line of sight.

"Hmm?" he hums, completing his final rep. He goes to get a complimentary wipe from the cleaning station and walks back to wipe down the machine. Leaving it sanitised and ready for it’s next use.

“Toji baby, sorry to interrupt but can you spot me next?”

"Oh, I see," a sneer lifted on his scarred lips as he continues; "finally doin' it today huh?"

You put on a smile and take over his former position. “indeed, I decided to give some new workouts a go today! I’m pretty excited y’know?”

He nods, "there's no rush, jus’ go slow, lemme know if it's too much."

“Yeah yeah yeah…I got this [...] wait Toji, aren’t you supposed to be by my arms?”

୨୧

“Thought you were excited a minute ago, all that energy go to your pussy?”

Toji Fushiguro, experienced and tongue-talented. You'll be cruising to the finish line like a race car thanks to him. He takes good care of your pussy—forcing you to understand how much he will always know your pussy far more than you and anyone else could.

Especially how the tiniest of friction from him that causes your walls to spasm on his taste buds—confirmation in itself.

He’ll force you to keep your eyes open and watch—as he makes love with your cunt.

“Keep your eyes open doll— m’ tryna see them turn white”

“Hmmph! T-Toji…What if someone comes in?...ngh, ah—“

“The only one cummin’ is you,” he retaliates.

With his left hand, he pulls back both of your legs as he utilises his right. Your whole-body quivering amid him from his constant clit assaults.

He finger fucks you swifter than previously, and immediately senses your insides clenching around his fingers, forcing you with no choice but to be filled to the brim, and disoriented due to his tongue.

“The thought of you bein’ caught spread open on a weight bench got ya’ pussy pulsatin’ huh?”

“Mmngh a-absolutleey..not…!”

Studying as a wave of humiliation passes over your expression, he puts a couple harsh palms to your ass with a SMACK. Making the area sting over and over, as the air creeps to irritate the burn.

“Denyin’ with a straight face as if I can’t feel you smotherin’ my fingers? Fuckin’ slut,”

“M’ not a slu-ngh–! Toji’...mmmh”, whimpering—you reach for the edges of the weight bench looking desperate for support.

“Wan’..mmm wanna cum Toji…please,”

“You wanna cum?”

“Mmhm!—” you cry out, your voice wavering in response.

“Only sluts get to cum—mmmh, ptuih—but yer not one of em’ are ya’?” he tests you, spitting on your clit as though your sopping pussy hasn't already caused enough fluids to run down his throat.

“Mm–m’ n-not–nnmugh!"

“You know what I wanna hear ma’ say it.” he demands, adding another finger to the two, fucking you fuller.

“I-Im a s-slut toji…mgnhm a slut—a slut for you, please let me cummmngh!—” you babble out, not even sure if it's for him anymore; the words bring nothing but a warning to anyone who hears—unable to stop. Feeling yourself reach your limit against his tongue.

“So needy—mmngh cum like a good lil’ slut then,”

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obsessedwithceleste · 4 months

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Theodore Nott and the Fortress of Trust Issues: how to cast a patronus in 3 easy steps

Theodore Nott x reader

Summary: Theodore Nott had never been able to cast a patronus. In third year, when dementors were swarming the castle, of course he tried, but was never able to manage more than a whisp of soft silver. Come seventh year, he was painfully unsurprised when his efforts were once again lack luster. Turns out, with the right tutor, casting the formidable charm might not be as impossible as he thought.

word count: 3.8k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

Theodore glowered menacingly at the students below him chattering happily amongst themselves in the courtyard. A puff of smoke slipping through his lips as he leaned on the railing of the astronomy tower. Theo knew his life wasn’t exactly one that most would be envious of. Sure his family had money, power, but add on a mother who had died far before her time, and a death eater father whose attention it was far better to avoid? Theo laughed dryly to himself.

Theo knew he didn’t have many happy memories. Truly happy memories. He was painfully, excruciatingly, self aware. Still, nothing made it quite so glaringly obvious that his life was rather pathetic than broadcasting to his entire charms class his bitter inability to force even a wisp of silvery bloody smoke out of his bloody wand. Yes. Flitwick had finally found his weakness. That damned Patronus spell. Being one of the top students of his year, it was humiliating. It wasn’t even expected that most of the class would be able to cast a corporeal patronus, yet even Draco and Matteo of all people managed to produce soft billowy clouds of silvery magic.

Theo shook his head at the thought, trying to clear his mind. His eyes once again began gazing about the courtyard before landing on a lone figure sitting beneath a willow tree, hidden from view unless one was looking close enough. Theo brought his smoke to his lips once more, inhaling deeply as he watched a burst of silver leave the tip of the girl’s wand. His eyes darkened with envy, remembering the words of his professor from earlier that day.

“Wonderful, y/n. Just wonderful! A fox! Withdrawn when necessary, but natural adaptors. Embodying intelligence, independence, mischief, and beauty. A unique patronus indeed.”

His eyes narrowed as he watched the silver creature trot happily through the air before turning and dropping his cigarette to the ground, stomping on it harshly. With one last glance at the girl sitting awestruck with her silvery companion, he descended down the stairs, determined to spend the rest of his night, moping in peace.

Step 1: Find a Pretty Tutor (read: have a tutor forced upon you under the threat of a failing grade.)

“What do you mean a tutor? You of all people?” Matteo laughs mercilessly as Theo scowls at him. “Can’t believe I’m doing better than you in a class, you must be bloody miffed.”

Theo tuned out his friend’s laughter as he continued to glower at the floor in front of him. The two boys currently sat in the Slytherin common room as Theo hastily tried to finish up his ancient runes homework before dragging his arse to the library to meet his supposed tutor. Matteo was making this quite difficult however as he continued to poke fun at the boy, rattling on about how, for once, Theo had had the nerve to not be good at something. The horror.

Snapping his textbook closed and sliding it into his book bag, Theo began gathering his things, choosing to forego the blasted assignment.

“Aww, have fun with you little tutor Teddy. Maybe it’ll be that foxy Ravenclaw you’re always staring at. Bit ironic that her patronus is a fox innit?” Matteo teases as he watches his friend’s jaw clench at the mention of the pretty girl.

While perhaps Matteo wasn’t the most entirely perceptive of the bunch, it would take a blind man to not notice Theodore’s eyes flicker over to the group of Ravenclaws throughout their shared charms class.

“Shut up Matt. Shouldn’t you be shagging Astoria in a broom closet somewhere?” He grunts out.

Matteo smirks, knowing he’d found a tick, but deciding to leave it for another time.

“Not a bad idea mate, see you later. You’ll have to tell Enzo and I all about your tutoring session tonight,” he says with a wink before sauntering off towards the girl’s dormitories.

With a heavy sigh, Theo began making his way slowly towards the library, silently cursing Professor Flitwick as he recalled their conversation from earlier that day.

Class was finally wrapping up for the day and Theo was about ready to bolt out of that blasted classroom, but Flitwick had other ideas.

“Mr. Nott? A word?” He’s called from his grand podium in the center of the room.

The summons had garnered a few raised eyebrows and surprised looks from his fellow classmates, and Theo had trudged solemnly up to the professor.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you appeared to have had some difficulty today,” the professor and stated rather bluntly after all the other students had shuffled out.

Theo blinked back up at his professor.

“You do understand of course, that I cannot grant marks for a spell you did not perform?” He asks finally.

Theo once again stares blankly back at the professor.

Appearing to grow uncomfortable under the boy’s steady, unwavering gaze, Flitwick lets out a deep sigh.

“Mr. Nott. I’m aware that you are quite the talented young wizard, and I simply do not want to have to give you low marks on an assignment I’m confident you could perform well on.”

Still nothing from the brown haired Slytherin.

“I’ve arranged for you to begin working with a tutor until you’re able to cast the spell.” He says finally.

Theo frowns. He’s never had a tutor before. Never needed one.

“Professor-“ he begins to protest.

“The two of you can begin later this evening. 8 o’clock in the library,” Flitwick interrupts before shooing him off to his next class.

Finally arriving outside the library doors, Theo made another look of distaste before pushing through the large double doors. His eyes gazed over the tables not entirely sure who he was looking for as the twat had never actually told him who would be tutoring him. He felt his body freeze momentarily when his eyes locked with another pair of bright eyes and he began silently cursing Matteo. The bloody fucking bastard had jinxed him.

You sat quietly at your table in the library, waiting for the clock to slowly hit 8 as you mindlessly worked away at your essay for ancient runes. During charms today, Flitwick had noticed one of your classmates have a particularly difficult time with the lesson and asked for you to guide them in the right direction. Not one to argue with your head of house, you’d easily agreed.

As the clock struck 8, you began casting quick glances every so often at the library doors, until suddenly you were locked in the gaze of none other than Theodore Nott. Surely he wasn’t the one you would be tutoring? You didn’t know the boy particularly well, but you did know that he was a fierce competitor for top of the class in most of your other lessons. You watched silently as he made his way over to your table, offering him a small smile.

“Charms?” He asks, tossing his bag onto the table with a gentle thud.

You give him a slight nod, eyeing his tall figure as he sat lazily across from you.

“Well I’m sorry to break it to you, but you’ll be wasting your time. Never been able to cast the damn spell. Probably never will,” he says, leaning back on the chair, eyes not wavering.

You purse your lips. Looking at the handsome boy in front of you.

“I suppose you’ll just have to trust me then, won’t you?” You reply, a challenging tone apparent in your voice.

The boy smirks at this, cocking his head as if really getting a good look at you for the first time before finally replying, “I’ve never been particularly trusting.”

“Well then I guess you’ll be learning all sorts of things.”

You take your charms book out of your bag, opening it to the reading you had been assigned earlier in the week. You glance up to see Theodore mirroring your actions silently.

“A patronus, is a concentration of pure happiness and hope, derived from the recollection of a single talisman memory which is essential in its creation,” you read, the underlined section of the textbook was one you had pre-selected as it was the concept most people struggled to grasp.

Watching Theo stiffen and clench his jaw slightly, you knew you were right.

“When someone is unable to cast a patronus, I’ve found it’s usually because they haven’t figured out yet how to focus in on their talisman memory,” you continue.

“And if someone doesn’t have a talisman memory?” Theo’s voice interrupts.

You glance up at him in surprise.

“Everyone has a talisman memory. We just need to find it.”

“I don’t have one.” He insists.

“Then we’ll make one.”

The boy sighs in frustration. Fists clenching as he glares at the textbook in front of him.

“It might not be as complicated as you’re making it. I know when Flitwick was in class, he made it seem like your talisman memory had to be a big, grande gesture, or a clear moment of inexplicable joy. But I think the little moments count too. Everyone has been happy at least once,” you say, watching as Theo slowly relaxes.

“What do you think about?” He asks, before quickly back tracking “You don’t have to answer that.”

“All sorts of things really,” you reply, offering another small smile. “When I got my first wand at Ollivander’s. Honeydukes with the rest of the Ravenclaws. Playing quidditch. Specially that time we beat Gryffindor.”

Theo snorts at that, a small grin reaching his lips.

“Point is, it doesn’t matter how small the moment is, long as it made you happy.”

You’re met with silence, as Theo continues to stare down at his textbook, a look a deep contemplation on his face.

“Think that’s enough for today. Flitwick said to keep up the sessions until you’re at least able to cast an incorporeal patronus, so, I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Theo nods his head, still not meeting your gaze.

“Does 6 o’clock on the lawn work?” You ask, only to be met with another nod.

Sensing the boy needed a bit of space, you quickly gathered your things before leaving the boy to his thoughts.

Step 2: Accidentally Fall In Love with Your Tutor (if you weren’t half way there already.)

You sit staring out at the vast lake in front of you, watching as the breeze pushed against the water, forming rolling waves across the surface and taking a deep breath in. You had been meeting Theodore here every day at 6 o’clock sharp for almost two whole weeks now, but you honestly weren’t sure if he’d show up today. Not that you’d blame him.

You felt as if you’d really failed him as a tutor after so many consecutive days of work, with nothing to show for it. On top of that, the two of you had gotten into a rather intense shouting match yesterday, the stress of the whole thing really getting to the both of you.

You lean back, laying down on the soft blanket below you, knees still propped up, and close your eyes, thinking back to the first time the two of you had met out in this very spot. You’d originally picked the spot, because it helped you clear your mind and you thought it might help clear Theo’s too.

That first day had been awkward. Almost painfully so. You had simply wanted to talk. Get to know the boy, pick his brain for any source of happiness or joy he might get out of life. You didn’t get much, so instead you talked about your own life. What it was like living in Ravenclaw tower, the time you and Cho had tried out together for the quidditch team. You told him how you had gone to the Yule ball with a big group of friends, and how you thought it was much better than going with some stuffy date, and how your favorite candies were the purple taffies from Honeydukes, and your favorite flowers were deadly poisonous despite their pretty and innocent appearance.

The second day, you borrowed Cho’s cat and brought her along to the meeting, thinking it might help further relax your brown haired companion. It did, so you brought her along the next day, and the day after that. It wasn’t until the fourth day that Theo broke. Sure he had told you a bit about his time at Hogwarts. Playing on Slytherin’s quidditch team. Sharing a dorm with Matteo Riddle and Lorenzo Berkshire. But on the fourth day, he told you about his mother. You weren’t expecting it, and it honestly had caught you wildly off guard. Theodore’s mother had been the light of his world, and after she was gone, you could understand why he thought he would never cast a patronus.

It went on like this, the two of you gradually becoming closer, as you carefully began building a sort of trust between the two of you. You thought you might even be becoming friends; which excited you as you’d never been quite able to stop your eyes from wandering over to the group of Slytherins in the back of the class, and stopping on the tall, brunette boy with pretty eyes. You tried every couple of days to cast the spell, guiding him through different memories, trying to focus in on different experiences. But still nothing. You had even tried inviting Matteo and Enzo to a session, hoping they’d help lighten his mood, but it only ended in the four of you skiving wildly off course and getting nothing done. You and Theo had laughed about it the next day, but still not even a whisp of silvery magic.

It had all come to a head yesterday. You could feel the two of you beginning to lose hope, but you were nothing if not determined. The two of you were sitting quietly, skimming the textbook for what seemed like the thousandth time, when Theo suddenly stopped and looked up at you.

“I read something the other day. Bout patronuses. And being able to cast em.”

You looked up from your reading, intrigued.

“Said that there’s a widespread, and justified, belief that witches and wizards who aren’t pure of heart can’t cast a patronus.”

Your mouth slowly formed an O shape, and the book you were holding dropped to the ground, completely forgotten.

“Theodore. You don’t honestly think. That’s ridiculous.”

“It makes sense doesn’t it? Why I can’t even cast an incorporeal charm. Why nothing we’ve tried works. There’s no point,” Theo had said, growing frustrated.

“Theodore stop. That theory is all nonsense. There isn’t even any evidence really to back it up,” you reply.

“Why else would nothing be working?” Theo asks, slamming his book on the ground.

“Theo!”

“No, y/n, honestly. What other explanation could there be. We’ve been doing this for weeks.” Theo’s voice began to rise.

“And we’ll continue until you’re able to get this.”

“What’s the bloody point? We’ve tried everything!”

“And we just need to try a bit harder!” You respond.

“You think I haven’t been trying?”

“Of course I know you’ve been trying! And I’ve been trying to do everything I can to help you succeed!”

“And everything I’ve been doing is for you! I don’t care about the bloody charm, I don’t want to disappoint you!”

Theo’s outburst had shocked you, and your breath hitched as the two of you stared at each other, Theo’s words sinking in.

Then he was kissing you. Hot lips working against yours as he pulled you onto his lap. Your fingers worked their way up to his hair, relishing in how soft his brown waves were as you tugged at them gently.

You let out a soft moan as you felt his tongue glide gently across your bottom lip before diving in at the opportunity you had provided him.

You seemed to get lost in the feeling of his soft lips and large hands around your waist holding you firmly in place. You had no idea how much time had passed by the time you were both panting for breath, foreheads resting against one another.

Seeming to really realize what he’d done, Theo looked down at you, eyes beginning to widen slightly.

“I’m so sorry, y/n,” he’d said before promptly rising and hastily making his way back to the castle.

Now, your finger tips softly brushed the soft leather of Theo’s book bag that he’d abandoned yesterday in his hurry to leave. You thought that maybe, if for no other reason, he’d perhaps come to retrieve it. Not that he needed to you thought dryly, knowing that with his Gringotts account, he could’ve easily already replaced it and its contents.

Sitting up, you glance at your time piece showing a quarter after 6. With a deep sigh, you fish your transfiguration textbook out of your bag, flipping it open to begin your assigned reading. You’re only a few pages in when a twig snaps somewhere behind you. Whipping around, you see him standing there, handsome as ever, looking down at you.

“Sorry I’m late. And, sorry for yesterday,” he mumbles, dropping down to sit next to you.

You eye him warily as he refuses to make eye contact with you, eyes appearing to be glazed over as he gazes out at the lake like you had been earlier.

Slowly, and ever so carefully, you shift next to him so that your arms and legs brush softly, and you gently lean your head against his shoulder as you join him in looking out at the water. You feel him tense initially before slowly relaxing, leaning in as the two of you sat in silence.

“I won’t give up, if you don’t,” you say finally as Theo’s hand finds yours.

Step 3: Trust

It had been a week now since that day at the lake, and you weren’t quite sure where you stood anymore with Theo. You still met each other everyday by the lake, slipping easily into your usual banter. But now it was eyes meeting from across the classroom and slips of paper making their way back and forth. Your fingertips would brush softly in the hallways, and sometimes, you’d feel a hand reach out, pulling you into a hidden nook, and warm lips would meet your own. But you’d never actually, talked, about it.

You shake the thoughts out of your mind, a shiver running down your spine, as you focus in on the present. That all wasn’t the reason you once again found yourself lying out on the lawn, Theo’s head resting comfortably in your lap.

“Can you cast it?” Theo asks, looking up at you.

“Hmm?”

“Your patronus? Can you cast it? I know yours is a full, corporeal form.”

Looking down at the boy, your fingers weave slowly through his hair as you reach for your wand.

Closing your eyes and taking a breath, you focus in, memories flashing through your mind, a sense of warmth overtaking you.

“Expecto patronum.” The spell falls from your lips and you open your eyes to see a silver fox tumble out of the tip of your wand before trotting through the air around you.

You really did love the spell and it amazed and intrigued you every time. A reflection of someone’s soul, your textbook had said. It could change throughout one’s life, should they experience a shocking event, grow more mature, fall in love. The last one had always been the most curious, the idea of someone loving so much, that a piece of their soul reflected that of their loved one.

You watch as Theo’s eyes follow the the creature in awe.

“You know this is hopeless right?” Theo asks softly, your hand in his hair freezing.

“Theodore. We agreed that-“

“But really what’s the point? So I get one poor mark. When am I ever going to need to use the spell really? No point in wasting time on something that’s hopeless.”

You carefully mull over Theo’s words in your head. You supposed that realistically, he wasn’t necessarily wrong practicality wise. But if you both simply gave up, would he ever want to see you again? You knew in your core that it was selfish, but the last three weeks really had been some of the best during your time at Hogwarts. Which was saying a bit considering you’d been there for almost seven years. You supposed you’d just hoped- hoped. Hopeless, hopeless, hopeless. Hope. A concentration of pure happiness and hope.

“Theodore?”

“Amore?”

“When you’re thinking of your happy memory, why did you choose it?”

Theo gives you a strange look.

“Because it made me happy at the time, and the talisman memory is supposed to be a happy.”

“Good. But can you tell me why it’s so important to focus on a happy memory?”

Theo blinks.

“Because the spell says so.”

You let out a small laugh.

“Because the whole point of the charm is to create protection from the dark. Something that will keep you safe so that you can continue to feel that happiness. To give you hope.”

Theo furrows his eyebrows and frowns.

“This feels emotional.” He says, his face distorting in disgust.

“Sometimes magic is.”

Theo’s frown deepens. “It shouldn’t be. I’m perfectly content being apathetic and emotionally detached thanks.”

You let out a small snort. “Come on Theo. Try it again. But this time, think about your memory and why you want to feel that again.”

Theo’s face scrunches up in distaste before he sits up lazily, picking up his wand. You watch as he closes his eyes, pausing. His chest slowly rises then falls, once, twice.

“Expecto patronum.”

Nothing. Theo let’s put an annoyed sigh.

“Hey, it’s okay. You can try again. Think about something that you love, make sure you can picture it clearly. Something that made you so happy that you would relive it over and over.”

Theo’s eyes flick over to you, a brow raised before he closes his eyes once again. You watch him closely, perhaps too closely, as a minute passes. Then two. You’re almost worried he’s fallen asleep sitting up when the words fall from his lips.

“Expecto patronum.”

A burst of silver flashes out of his wand, and your jaw drops as your eyes follow the silver creature that had emerged, gracefully moving across the lawn.

Your eyes dart over to Theo, and you reach out to grab his arm seeing that he’d not yet opened his eyes again. When his eyes finally open once more, his gaze immediately falls on the whimsical creature, eyes widening slightly as he stares at his patronus in disbelief before looking at you with bewildered confusion.

“That’s not mine.” You tell him with a small smile, giving his arm a squeeze as you both look up at the silver fox dancing through the air.

#harry potter #harry potter universe #slytherin #slytherin boys #draco malfoy #lorenzo berkshire #matteo riddle #theodore nott #theo nott x y/n #theodore nott x y/n #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #theo nott fanfiction #theodore nott fanfiction #patronus #hogwarts au #astoria greengrass #theo nott

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bunnysbrainrot · 2 months

Text

Too Sweet

A series inspired by Hozier’s ‘Too Sweet’.

Relationship: Joel Miller x f!Reader

Content: No sexually explicit content, at least not yet. Some slight fluff? Slow burn vibes? Joel is kind of a dick (for once in my writings), but a protective dick.

Summary: You’re one of the newest arrivals in Jackson after a long trip to seek refuge. Now that you’re settling in, one of Jackson’s most integral men is the head of your first patrol. Will Joel be able to set aside that gruff demeanor for the sake of meeting someone new?

A/N: I’m so sorry about my recent hiatus, everyone. I’ve thought of this series for a while, to get me inspired again and to work towards something bigger. I’ve also thought about having some sections/chapters be from Joel’s perspective. Thoughts on that? Sorry it’s nothing spicy yet, but we’ll work up to it. Tensionnnn

The sound of birds echoed outside your bedroom window. By some miracle, you’d found a community, after so many months wandering either alone, or with the occasional group, but never for long. The mattress beneath you squeaks as you shift in your bed. Normally an irksome noise, but it reminded you that you were finally safe.

A faint light of dawn trickles through the gaps in the curtains, streaking around the room in a periwinkle hue. Your sluggish grog was slowly wearing off, while you processed your plans for that day. It was a Thursday, according to your new watch. God, you hadn’t realized how much you missed being able to tell the time. Who knows truly how long you’d been out there. Days blurring together, the minutes excruciatingly drawn out without company.

It was nice to be a part of something again.

Finally, you sat up in bed, rolling your head to stretch your neck. How long had it been since you had a proper pillow?

A smile crept onto your face. You’re better rested than ever, but an anxiety still ate away at you. Today was your first patrol outside of Jackson. You weren’t alone, of course, but the expectations you held for yourself could be your downfall.

“Okay, let’s do this,” you whispered to yourself.

Walking over to your dresser, you eyed yourself in a dusty mirror above the chest of drawers. A kind woman named Maria had provided you with a few new outfits when you’d first arrived a week ago. In the meantime until today, she’d given you those days to process and settle, and you were grateful for her patience.

When Maria had asked you what role you’d like in the community, she could see the steely glint in your eyes. Well seasoned from years of fighting and running, yet still a kernel of a protective rage.

You had expressed to her of your journey before finding Jackson. On that day she asked you how many of the dead you had taken out thus far.

“In total, by myself, well over three hundred, I would say. I don’t know, I think I lost track at some point.”

Her expression shifted to one of assurance, like they’d just gotten a worthy addition to their town. Someone who could protect what they’d all built.

She explained the basics of patrols, the routes laid out on an old map, with hand drawn trails and indicators of the area. You made an attempt to remember as much as you could, but surely you’d get good practice being out there, actually doing it.

————

You check yourself before heading out the front door. This time of year, the weather has started to warm up, so your opted for a t-shirt, jeans, a light jacket, and a ‘new’ pair of hand-me-down boots.

The air outside was cleaner than you’d imagined. The scent of early morning breakfasts wafted through the breeze, bringing a pang to your stomach. Maria hadn’t mentioned how long patrols would take; you debated if you had time to grab something from a stall in the heart of town. Other residents had been given spaces to cook for the community, giving out easy meals for these hardworking people.

Turns out you did have time, to your relief. In a matter of minutes, you held a piping hot breakfast sandwich in your hands, its heat seeping into your chilled fingers.

A few folks wave a friendly ‘hello’ as you trek to the Southern side of Jackson, to its border wall to meet up with your patrol group. There was a huddle of both peiple and horses, you noticed, as you got closer. One of the people turned to you, giving a wave in recognition.

“Hi, am I late? I thought I’d have time to get breakfast,” you explained.

There was a woman with kind eyes who spoke next, “Not at all, these bastards just insist on getting up at 5:30.”

“That sure is an early start.”

“It gets them cranky like you wouldn’t believe,” she replied, quickly cut off by a new voice.

It was a gentleman who called to the group, “We all here?”

His voice wasn’t commanding, but it did put people into gear to check themselves. Clearly he was the one in charge of this patrol. The look in his eyes told you all you needed to know.

He might be someone to watch.

You turn to the woman, “I’m sorry to ask, but I don’t know anyone here yet. Is there any way you could give me a run-down of who everyone is?”

With a smile, she listed off the names of your group members, pointing them out. Some of them noticed and waved, others gave a slight smile, and others asked for your name. All were introduced until it was down to the man who’d rounded the group.

“And, that’s Joel. He’s head of the patrol.”

Your eyes shot to Joel now that you could put a name to the face. There was a moment of pause when you met his gaze, a moment frozen in time from his stare. He scanned over your face, down to your shoddy boots, and back to your eyes.

His expression doesn’t soften as he says, “Glad to have ya with us. Should be a horse on the way for you.”

Joel turns to face the gate as he rummages through his pockets for a folded map. He unfolds the paper until it spans across his horse’s shoulders.

The rhythmic clonk of a horse’s hooves came from behind. A familiar face approached with a stunning mare, it’s Maria.

“Mornin’ everyone, that should be it,” Maria traded off with you, handing you the mare’s lead. She spoke louder, announcing to the group. “Y’all stay safe out there. Shouldn’t be too bad, but it is getting warmer. Keep an eye out for groups.”

Members of your party nodded before Maria walked off, giving greetings to other folks who’d just begun to bustle around.

Your attention shifted back, specifically to Joel. It seemed that whatever he says, goes, so that’s what you’d follow.

Two men at the top of the wall made their way to the edges of the gate, hauling it open. Golden sunlight peeked above the mountains ahead, casting the world in a yellow glow.

Joel nodded, then a gruff, “Be smart. Stay close.”

————

The sun was overhead now. You’d been out here for hours, keeping an eye out for any infected that roamed too close to camp. A while ago, you spotted one trapped in an abandoned cabin. Which was quickly dispatched by one of the men in your party.

That cycle repeated almost wordlessly amongst you all. Hardly a single word had been uttered aside from Joel’s occasional command or redirection.

For the most part, things were going smoothly. And after a few minutes of some peace and quiet, you realized you’d strayed away from your spot in the formation. Your horse had fallen in pace with a beautiful brown stallion, riding on top, was none other than the leader.

Joel.

You’d turned to see who it was, but were quickly met with another intense stare. Your gaze darts to the side as you issue an apology, “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to get so ahead of everyone.”

For the first time his expression does soften. A slight hint or kindness in his eyes. The corners of his eyes crinkle with his slight smile.

“It happens. Just… keep a lil’ distance. You’re new, can’t have you rushing ahead without someone else with you.”

The words would form a lecture if it weren’t for his tone. It wasn’t scrutinizing, but rather soft and protective.

His advice brings a smile out of you. A genuine one, for the first time in a while. Perhaps he wasn’t as much of a hard-ass as you’d assumed. You tug your horse’s reins to slow her pace, creating a few feet of space between you and Joel.

Yet even still, that smile he gave you kept your heart racing.

It would be a horrible idea, to fawn after him.

Right?

That thought had no effect on the tightness in your chest, or the fluttering in your stomach. Perhaps it was simply happiness that someone so hardened could be so easily friendly. A hard exhale later, you told yourself that it was the camaraderie that flustered you.

—

The group had made their journey back to town. Aside from the occasional runner, there wasn’t much defense needed this morning. Once your group returned, you’d have lunch and trade off with the next group, and share your findings before they venture out.

You had let your mind wander as you rode with the group.

In a split second, your mare bucks in fright. There was no time to assess what scared her before you were shooting ahead, flying past your patrol group.

“Nonononono- NO! It’s alright, it’s alright-“ you cry, but it falls on deaf ears of a scared animal. Tugging on the reins made no difference. You still shot ahead of the others, directionless without someone to guide you.

“It’s alright, baby, you’re safe! You’re okay. It’s gone!” You plead to the horse to slow down. The reassurances don’t seem to be enough.

A thundering set of footsteps is heard behind you. In a swift move, Joel jabbed his horse with his heel, pushing himself to race ahead of you.

With the rush of the air and galloping hooves, you could hardly make out his instructions.

“What?!” You shouted.

“Pull the reins! And I mean pull!”

You gripped the leather of the reins, drawing them to your chest, tugging your horse’s head back and away. Her pace slowed, but she kept running, now to the left. You could make out a curse from Joel as he redirected.

In a stroke of luck, he made some headway. Joel’s horse zoomed forward, and merged directly in front of yours, and the interruption slowed the mare’s pace just enough.

Another tug of the reins helps her into a steady beat. Joel was directly ahead, now turned to the side to block more of the path. Your horse huffed and threw her head frustratedly. In that short time you had no clue just how far you’d strayed away - looking backwards told you that it was at least a few hundred meters.

Embarrassment showed in your flushed cheeks and wild expression, looking to Joel for some sort of scolding.

“I think something scared her. I.. I didn’t get a chance to see, it all happened so fast-“

Joel raised a hand to stop you mid-sentence. He didn’t wear a smile like before, but his expression wasn’t angry. If anything, he had that protective look once again.

“I know. They’re skittish, ‘specially her. She needs a little more control than the others.”

It’s a reassurance, truthfully. You breathed a sigh of relief knowing you weren’t on the shit list on the first day. Your breathing had slowed down now, though your heart still raced wildly in your chest.

He scanned your face thoroughly before he asked, “You alright?”

A nod is what you could muster. It’s enough for Joel to give a nod back before waving to the folks behind you, the rest of the group, to call them over.

“Maybe next time I’ll have a more confident horse. No offense….” you paused, “what’s her name?”

Joel’s lips tugged into a smile, “That’s Belle you’re ridin’. Poor girl hasn’t been out in a while, so she’s not as warmed up to this. But you did good with her, all things considered. Handled it well.”

You reached down to pat Belle on the side of her cheek, caressing her carefully.

“It’s okay, Belle. We’re with you. You’re alright now.”

A smile vanished from Joel’s face when you look back up at him. He cleared his throat, his eyes skirting away until your party began to join up with you two.

“It’s all good. Belle got the jitters. Let’s head home.”

With that explanation out of the way, the team could finally resume their return home. Along the way, Joel didn’t have much else to say, much to anyone actually. His silence was solemn - definitely not any invitation to strike up conversation.

Perhaps that’s how he’d always be - resigned, reserved, and off limits to everyone. A part of you ached at the thought of it.

For Joel, that loneliness could be his downfall.

Hi guys! Thanks for reading, I’m sorry if it seems a little boring, but it’s for the sake of the story building. TRUST it will get nasty soon. 🥰

#fanfiction #the last of us #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #tlou #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #tlou2 #bunny writes #smut #smut writing #the last of us fanfiction

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grugruel · 4 months

Text

Big Iron

Pairings:

bounty hunter!Arthur Morgan x outlaw!f!reader

NSFW/MDNI

Masterlist

Summary: She's escaped a robbery, and bounty hunters have been sent out after her. They'd made no problem so far– that said, the notorious Arthur Morgan set upon her trail.

Word count: 5.7k

Warnings: Arthur Morgan, pinv sex, rough sex, soft sex ish, lap/bulge-riding, praise, petnames (girl, sweetheart, ma'am), creampie, overstimulation.

AN: 3rd person pov, trying it out. Not yet proofread!

The campfire blazed in the night, casting a warm glow over the small, temporary hideout as smouldering flakes of ash rose in swirls above her.

Her face lit up, the sizzling embers of spent coal entrancing her.

The soaring fires of a bright building shouldered It's way into her mind, stealing space from any other thoughts.

The trees around her rustled. She leaned back against the wall of the overhanging cliff. Sliding down into a sitting position and slanting her head in ponder, slipping deeper into the memory.

Money was all she had needed. But the simple, well practiced heist escalated. Attempted arson had suddenly been added to her list of offences, robbery another one among them. Which she could admit to, and proudly so.

But the fire. . . Now the fire, was not her fault.

And not only was the law after her, but they'd sent out money hungry, bounty hunters aswell. She'd already tied two of them down yesterday, big brutish men they were. All muscle and no brains. Still, they proved quite the nuisances, but wouldn't be a problem anymore. . .

. . .Unless they died of starvation, and then she would indeed be guilty of murder. Lovely! She gritted her teeth at the memory, rolling her eyes interanally.

But she doubted it, seeing as they were curently tied to the fence of the sheriff's office.

Which left only one real threat.

One man, one singular man; a notorious outlaw himself. He was the sheriff's most resent hire. Big, deadly, tall and muscled. From long days of hard work killing and robbing she imagined.

She'd actually seen him in person once, and she could admit, he looked dangerous, and devilishly handsome. The rumors had been right about that, she was only hoping that his volatile reputation along with the Van Der Lind gang's would turn out to be folly.

She shivered at the thought, shaking her to the very bones. If it were from the thought of him or the cool of the night, she did not know. She closed her arms around herself, stroking them for warmth as she pushed the unpleasant thoughts away, her gaze snapping to the treeline beyond. She was back to reality, and suddenly accutely aware of the black darkness that lingered between its stems, but her vision was good and she was quite hidden after all. No one would be sneaking up on her–

'Ma'am.'

From the shadows, a man appeared at the edge of the campfires domain, vaguely illuminated by its warmth. Broad and tall in frame, the deep night clung to his back. His sudden prescence was the only evidence of his arrival, he'd made no sound nor been seen before he'd needed to be.

Her eyes snapped in his direction, widening with recognition, the eerie sense divulged itself to her body. Like poison, it spread quickly, crawling into every blood vessel and turning them ice-cold along its journey.

'Mister' she greeted, doing her damndest to stay calm.

His hat covered his eyes, but the smile he gave her was unmistakable. 'Theres quite the bounty on you girl.' The drawl of his accent sunk into her skin like the warmth from the fire.

'There's no doubtin' that,' she nodded in admittal, slowly moving away from him, 'Although im only worth half of it, I assure you.'

She sat still, eyes meeting his as they poked out beneath his hat. He tilted his head to face hers, regarding her silently. Eyes flickering over her, the way her hair fell over her shoulders, and how her blouse revealed the hills of her chest. '. . . 'S that so?. . .' He took a step closer, the rope in his hands now excruciatingly evident to her.

She got to her feet in one swift motion, hesitantly gesturing for him to stay calm. 'Mister, I'm not a murderer. Crimes I did not commit have been written in my name. The sheriff framed me!' She took a few steps to the left, placing the fire between them.

'I belive ya' ma'am.' His hands pulled on the lasso, adjusting its length. Gripping it roughly from time to time, trigger fingers readying themselves for any sudden movement. 'But the law can be a crooked thing sometimes.' His eyes narrowed in on her, then shrugged nonchalantly. 'But a bounty 's still a bounty girl.'

The birds sang above them, and the world blurred around her, her knees suddenly week. And unfortunately for her, he would be there to catch her when she fell. In a sense too literal for her liking.

'And I can say the same for myself ma'am, I'm a bad man. . .' His voice imposed, yet, the gravely tone vibrated perfectly well in her ears.

Gulping her nervousity, she assessed her options. . . And then ran.

Trees rushed past in peripheral whirls as she made her way along the cliff wall. Rope flexed behind her, threads wringing against eachother as it was swung and thrown with a woosh.

The air caressed her cheeks, pulling tears from her eyes and whistling in her ears. She gave it all she had, but it wasn't enough to stop the lasso from capturing her with deadly accuracy. It fell over her shoulders and tightened around her waist, pinning her arms to her sides.

The rope pulled taunt– and the world stopped moving for a short second, with a yank, her body whipped forward and her feet was swept from under her– then just as sudden, it sped up again.

As a tree cut down for its timber, she fell. The ground rushing up to greet her face as she stumbled to the ground with a hard thud. She panted, smelling the earth and feeling the wet grass tickle her face as she struggled against her entanglement; wriggling and thrashing like a stranded fish.

Well-used leather chaps groaned behind her as he stalked closer, winding the rope up as he did. Its sound of hot friction against fabric made her stumache churn. She rolled onto her back to get a better layout of the situation. And there he stood. Just by her feet, looming over her. With his back to the fire it cast a glow around him, framing the big man as he filled her sight. Fear and desire fought for the helm, conflicting her mind terribly.

He crouched down, bending over her as he circled the rope around her, securing his bounty tightly. He grabbed the knot and pulled her up diagonally, pulling her flush against his body so he could level her head with his. '. . .And I've done bad things.' He whispered, lips brushing against her ear. A dull pulse appeared where there ought to be no pulse. She screwed her eyes shut, lust for this man was the last thing she should be feeling. But oh. . . How his breath raised goosebumps, having it spread over her skin like wildfire.

He straightened his legs and stood back, taking her with him while keeping her close to his chest.

Her breath fanned over his lips as they stood a mere inch apart, one bound and the other free. A smirk made its way onto his lips, his hands sliding along the tied rope until they were at her waist, and in one strong motion threw her over his shoulder.

She yelped, 'You brute!' kicking wildy in hopes of getting free. But one of his arms circled around her legs and gripped the back of her thigh to keep them still, while he laid the other on the small of her back to stop her from falling. 'You keep your hands to yourself Mister!' She shouted, struggling against his bullish strength.

'Yes, ma'am.' He assured as he began walking, not paying her futile thrashing much mind.

She cleared her throat and huffed, expecting more of a reaction. She didn't quite know what to do in this situation, she hadnt planned this far ahead. She didn't think she'd ever be properly cought. 'Well, good.' She said curtly, calming herself. Being a nuisance and making the situation worse would be a bad idea, and she'd not made any progress nonetheless, his grip was solid steel. She'd have to settle on feeling his strong back beneath her instead and revel in the feeling of his hand on her thigh.

He stomped out the campfire before moving to where he'd hidden his horse, 'Sittin' or layin'?' He asked, being nice enough to hand her to options of sharing his saddle or to be stored over his horses ass.

She huffed, 'What a gentleman, take a guess Mister.' She muttered.

He nodded, 'Sittin' with me it is.' his hands moved to her waist, easily transfering her from his shoulder to the saddle. She scoffed for the sake of scoffing, eyes narrowing as she looked down on him, and if it had the power to, her look would certainly have killed him. 'Quite presumtions of you.'

With a low chuckle and a shake of his head, he gripped the saddle before climbing on. Placing his hands on either side of it, on hand on the pommel and the other on the cantel. Which just so happened to be between her thighs, and just behind her ass. Almost grazing her on both sides as he braced himself against it, eyes meeting hers with a satisfied smirk, 'Much more attitude from ya' girl and I'll have to take meassures.'

Shock sprung itself on her, feeling dizzy all over again. The knuckle of his thumb was an inch away from brushing against her cunt. Her eyes widened at the fact, and the implications his words carried. Her loins burned, it took everything in her power to stop from rocking her hips forward. But she simply cleared her throat and neutralised her expression, 'Id like to see you try.' And faced away from him, turning her nose upward.

He climbed onto the horse, placing himself close intil her and leaned over her shoulder. 'I will if you let me ma'am.' He whispered in her ear, and then spurred his horse. Shivers shook her at that, her entire body vibrating with a dull sense of need.

They rode silently for a long while, and she wanted to sass him, she wanted it terribly. But was both afraid and hoping he'd take action, just as he'd stated. The miles wound on, oh it felt never ending. Especially with the man behind her, rutting his hips against her with every step of the horse. He was a blessing against the cold, but pure torture as his heat soaked into all the wrong spots of her body.

But finally, it came time to rest. They'd ridden nonstop from the morning of her capture to the next night. If that werent enough, a heatwave had been raging the entirety of the day aswell, and the setting of the sun had barely made a difference.

He set her on the ground, binding her feet and hands before starting on the camp. Making quick work of the fire and tent as she sat down on a rock, silently watching the man work, and very much enjoying the show.

His skin was slick with sweat, much like herself. The cool light of the moon and the warmth of the fire made him glisten in every sense of the word, and oh. . . the way he toiled away.

He had removed his vest and chaps as he got to work, then rolled up the sleeves of his shirt which now stuck to his skin. A nuisance for him to be sure, but a dream for her, she could practically see the muscles of his chest rippling.

A drop of sweat trickled down her temple, tickling her skin and drawing focus away from the view. Her eyes widened as she realised how she stared at the stranger and shook her head, attempting to clear it.

God, focus. She needed to hatch a plan. Running would do her no good, he would be too fast. He wouldn't accept bribes either, and was very hard to persuade. No attempts had been succesful so far, he didnt even want the money she'd stashed away.

At that thought, unavoidably, abashedly her eyes snapped to him as he pulled his shirt off and reached for a new one in his saddlebag. She clenched her jaw to keep it from falling, his strong chest was adorned by hair, trailing down his abdomen and disappearing under. . . The waist of his pants. In that moment, she wanted nothing else then to see where that trail ended. She wanted to trace her fingers along it, or perhaps lick it, all the way down. . .

Her jaw began aching, she fought herself to tear her eyes away from him. Managing to direct her gaze at the ground instead, waiting for him to put a fresh shirt on.

After a short while, she dared to look up again. He'd pulled a log to opposite side of the fire and sat down, a cigarette placed between hid lips and was breathing in a long drag of it. Tilting his head back, he released the cloud of smoke with a sigh.

Her eyes followed his movements intently, studying them as she hoped that perhaps he'd notice her and offer one–

'Want one girl?' He nodded toward her, gesturing with the match box.

'I do, yes.' She answered expectantly, holding her hands out for him to untie.

But to her surprise, he scoffed, then stod and walked around the fire. He crouched on one knee infront of her, his arm bracing against the other. 'You'll have to do better than that.' He said, only a feets distance between them. Then picked the cigarette from his lips and offered it to her, holding it an inch from her mouth. She hesitated, observing him with disdain, 'Go on.' He nodded. But reluctant to follow his orders, she met his eyes, making sure he knew how unhappy she was about it, and then leaned in despite herself. Closing her lips around the cigarette, she sucked the toxic smoke smoke into her lungs like it were air, keeping her eyes locked on his. She swore something glint in his eyes as he studied her pouting lips. A plan struck her suddenly, but–

'Good girl.' He hummed.

Again, shock gripped her. The praise rose right to her head, sending waves of heat cascading through her body. Then she coughed, the smoke settling wrong in her airways. She pulled back, letting him retrieve his cigarette as she regained her composure. 'You alright there sweetheart?' He asked with a grin, and patted her back before replacing the cig between his lips.

'Fine.' She hissed, still reeling from. . . Everything. 'You got anything stronger? Whiskey, bourbon?'

He nodded, and pulled out and old bottle of bourbon from his bag, 'Could you?' She held her hands out to him again.

He studied her, stroking his stubbled jaw in thought. 'Got somethin' for me then?'

Insinuations led her down a path of all kinds of possibilities, but she instead opted for a simple, 'Please?' Instead, attempting it cheapishly.

His hands slipped down to his hip, pulling the knife from its hilt, 'Thats more like it.' He mumbeled with his cigarette clad lips.

And cut the rope around her hands and feet, stopping at the rope around her waist and met her eyes. 'Try anythin'. . .' He raised his eyebrows, and lowered his voice to a mocking tone '. . . run, hurt me' his eyes narrow as a corner of his lip tugs. 'And there'll be a steep price to be payed.'

Swallowing, she nodded enthusiastically, 'I just wan't a sliver of freedom before im locked up, you could understand that right?'

He nodded, 'S'pose so. . .' And began cutting, '. . . difference is girl' the rope snapped and slid down her sides, 'I'd never get caught.' He gathered the rope from her sides, his fingers accidentally brushing against her hips.

Her breath hitched, and her skin tingled desperatley for more of him as fluttering wingbeats set of in her stumache. Such a small thing, turning into such a big reaction.

He cleared his throat, handing her the bottle as he threw the rope into the fire. He sat down on another log, not as far away form her this time. Leaned back against the tree behind it and spread his legs wide. His bulge was enough to make her salivate, 'It's not easy you know, for a woman like me, when there's men like you Mr Morgan.'

Arthur quriked an eyebrow in question, 'You know me?'

'I know of you.' She corrected, taking a big swig of the fluid, then handed it back to him for him to do the same.

He nodded silently, a sigh escaping under his breath. 'All bad I guess.' He took another swallow, not to bothered by her statement. Probably used to hearing it by now.

She shook her head, taking the bottle and another gulp. 'Many of the ladies say you're handsome.'

At this he looked up at her, chuckling. 'Well, I don't know 'bout that.'

'It's true. . .' another sip, followed by a hiccup. 'They say you can be quite the gentleman too.'

His eyes bore into hers, his tone serious but expression joking as he humours her. 'Depends on the lady.' He reaches for the bottle, and she stands up to give it to him. Walking closer, she hands it over, fingers brushing against eachother in the motion.

His eyes meet hers, and she brushes her hand under his chin, 'You know what else they say Mr Morgan?'

'No, what do they say about me sweetheart?' A smirk tugged at his lip, the liquor starting to affect the both of them.

'That you're good in bed. . .' She steps between his thighs, her hand falling from his chin to his neck, scratching at the nape gently.

He hums appreciatively, then takes another sip of the bourbon and sets the bottle aside. His hands reach for her, coming to a rest on either side of her thighs, pulling her closer to him and squeezing them at his pleasure. 'They're only rumours girl.' He tilts his head backward against tree to get a better look at her, eyes fastening on her lips.

With her other hand, she hikes her skirt up, revealing her thighs as she step over his legs, one at a time, slowly sinking down onto his lap as his hands automatically slide to her hips.

She placed herself on top of his bulge, and he grunted from the pressure. The pulse within her began strumming at her nerves, turning them jittery.

'I doubt it Mr Morgan.' She whispered, 'Women do not lie to eachother of such things.' his bulge beneath her grew harder, luring a hidden smile from her, but she wills it from her lips so that it only reaches her eyes. 'They say you're rough, or gentle. Dependin' on your mood.' As she says that, she swears she detects the faintest red creep up his cheeks. Arthur Morgan. . . Blushing? Now, she couldnt help herself as the smile reaches her lips. Hes quite endearing.

The man cleared his throat, acting as if it had never happened. 'That's told of me in everythin' I do girl.' He smirks, the grip on her hips hardening, knuckles turning white.

'But you're always sweet 'n caring.' She continues, her own words were building the lust within her, making the pulse ever stronger. It was becoming hard to focus. She needed to release some of the pressure building inside her. Evaluating the consequences, she rocked her hips downward. Grinding into his bulge.

Simultaneously, she whimpered and he hissed. She leaned against him, her lips brushing against his ear as she nuzzles his cheek. 'Apparently, It's also true what they say 'bout ridin' cowboys–'

'Girl.' He interrupted with a chuckle, 'I know what you're doin'.' He breathes, 'Seducin' me.' With the tight grip on her hips, he helps rock her hips against him, the rough fabric of his pants grinding against her core.

With a gasp, one of her hands shoots out to burry itself in his hair. Then she leans into him, the other hand grabbing his shirt for support as she rests her head against his shoulder. He nuzzles his cheek against hers, and mutters, 'You use your sweet talkin', then get me drunk 'n run off, that your plan girl?'

Her eyebrows furrow, hips grinding down harder, her ruts becoming more frantic, needy. She screws her eyes shut from the copious amounts of pleasure washing over her. All she can do to answer him is hum in admittal as shes straining hard to even stay contious.

He chuckles. 'Easy girl. . .' His voice commanding, low and raspy as he slows her hips, but keeps the pace hard. 'Use your words.' He orders, loving the way shes falling apart for him.

She nods hastily, hoping it would satisfy his request. But he pinches her hip through the fabric of her skirt, and her eyebrows furrow in pain, however not having the energy to even make a sound. Her thoughts were a blur, she couldn't tell what to keep secret anymore, 'Yes– yes. . .' She sighs, the coil inside her tightening impossibly hard.

'Mmh, thought so.' He breathed, the words curt on his tongue, but lust evident in his voice. His hands leave her hips, one arm snaking around her waist, his hand placing itself at the small of her back to push her against him.

Then he stands, drawing a whine from her. She did not quite understand what was going on as the loss of movement gradually undid all the progress she'd made. 'Mr Morgan?' She inquires, hesitantly wrapping her legs around his hips.

He walks them to the tent, 'Arthur.' He corrects, carrying her with ease. He pushes the flap to the side and kneels, bending over her as he lays her on the ground.

'Arthur.' She smiles, worry seeping out as she realised he was making them more comfortable.

His knees slide apart, hooking her legs upon them as they spread. Her hands shoot up, grabbing onto the collar of his shirt to pull him closer, close enough for his lips to hover over hers. Their eyes meet, 'Please. . .' She whimpers, one hand sliding downward. '. . .Please.' She says again, fingertips trailing down his abdomen, suddenly grabbing hold of his bulge with a firm hand, his member rock hard. 'Outlaw or gentleman?' She asked, smiling a wicked smile.

He grunts, lips brushing over hers. 'Neither.' And grabs her wrist, pulling her hand away from his crotch, catching the other in the motion. His free hand reached over her head, and the hauntingly familiar groaning of strong rope sounded above her. She shook her head, 'Arthur, please. . .' Panic moved into her voice, the repeated words carrying a completley different meaning this time.

He held both wrists with one hand and tied them together with the other, the rope burning her skin in the motion.

She cried out unhappily.

But he chuckles, in a matter of factly kind of way. Stroking the burn gently as ge corrects her, 'Should've behaved.' And when done, he sits back. Observing her as she lies tied up, legs spread infront of her, circled around his hips. Much to his dismay, he wouldn't be enjoying the sight as much as he wanted to. 'It's late.' He grunts curtly, then stands and walks toward the flap.

'Arthur. . .' She pleads, trying one last time.

He turns his head just enough to see her in his peripheral, 'Get some sleep, you got a long day ahead of you tomorrow.' He flashes his eyebrows smugly, 'Night, sweetheart.' Then exits the tent without another word.

She huffed, unbelivable. Nuzzling herself into the bedroll.

Sweetheart. . . But how could she be annoyed when he calls her such a thing. She dreamed herself away, with imagines of a shirtless Arthur Morgan and the feeling of him inside her. But she'd not given up, make no mistake, he would fall asleep and she would leave. . .

The night carried on and the temperature finally began dropping, a shiver shook her pleasantly. It was a welcome change. Her body strained as she raised her neck to get a look of the outside. Through the flap she saw Arthur, sitting, snoring, hat covering his face as he leaned back against the tree he'd previously been sitting on.

Now, she needed to get rid of her restraints. Rolling over, she crawled toward the opening, her eyes never leaving Mr Morgans sheathed knife.

The fire had been reduced to embers at this point. Crackling and sizzling lowly as the cool moisture in the air riddled the grass with dewdrops, dampening her hands and skirt as she approached her goal. She sat on her knees, then moved to grab the knife carefully, gnelty sliding it out. The sound of it unlatching nearly had her yelp.

No movement in Arthur.

Shallow breaths, she exhales. Relief flooding through her begoee she began working the knife against her entangled wrists with her fingertips. Carefully regarding the vicious man for any signs of waking. But her thoughts slid, perhaps, if he caught her, he would be kind. Or would he be angry? She could truly not decide werther which reaction she'd most prefer–

The rope snapped, and exhilaration filled her. Gaze snapping between her free hands and the hunter, imagining her prospects. She stood quietly, holding her skirt tightly around her to keep the fabrics from rustling. Slowly, knife still in hand, she backed away. On careful tiptoed steps she faded into the night, the fire dwindling in the distance.

The darkness made it hard for her to see much of anything, at its height the tree-crowns silhouette were visible against the blue summer sky. Branches moved, leaves swished in the gentle wind. She grew paranoid, head snapping in every direction, reacting to every little noise around–

A branch broke behind her, she jumped, turning around so fast she almost ripped– a Buck. She froze, a god damned buck? She had expected it ro be Arthur, but she seemed to have ogtten the better of him. The animal looked at her, ears twitching as it chewed on grass– suddenly hopping away. She sighed and turned back.

Only to collide with something hard. Her thoughts raced, she knew, she knew. She looked up, eyes tracing along his body until they met his, half hidden under his hat. Reflexes prepared her to run, but before she had as much as taken a step back, a hand grabbed her wrist and yanked her back to him. Again, she thumped into his strong chest. Held against him with the familiar iron grip, she fought, as usual; but to no avail, as usual. He snaked an arm around her waist to hinder her from breaking free, yet she kicked and punched violently with her free limbs. But it made no dent in the man. He couldn't even spare her a reaction as he half carried, half dragged her back into the low light of the burnt out fire. He spun her around and pushed her up against the cliff wall, grabbing the wrist closest to him and pinning it above her head. 'I warned you, girl.' He snarled, the look in his eyes doing just as good a of job pinning her to the wall as his hands. He reaches for the second–

When something sharp digs into the soft flesh of his throat, he froze. His chest was the only thing moving between the two of them, heaving breaths of annoyance.

'Thrid times the charm.' She smirked.

He raised his eyebrows and chuckled, 'That so?' His voice mocking, and before she could comprehend what had happened, he'd captured both wrists with one hand and slammed them above her head and into the wall. And the knife had appeared in his free hand, she noticed this because it was now held against her own throat. 'Repeat that for me girl.'

Her lips struck a thin line as she attempted a neutral expression, although fuming on the inside. She shrugged her shoulders, 'No.' Was all she said, but stubborn in tone.

He nodded, looking her up and down, studying the buttons on her blouse. 'Ought to teach you a lesson sweetheart.'

She cleared her throat, deciding that to act nonchalant was her best option. 'Yeah? What ya' gunna do, huh? Ravage me?' She asked half joking, but still hoping there'd be some truth to it.

At this, the corner of his mouth turned up, a wicked grin developing on his lips. 'I just might.' He breathed, tracing the tip of the knife downward, along her collarbone and then along the front of her blouse, coming to a stop at the first button. She gulped, feeling the knife poke through the thin fabric against her chest, making goosebumps run amock in reaction and the pulse reheating in her core. He leaned forward, pushing his body against hers until there was no room left between them, his head hovering just above the crook of her neck. 'May I do with you as I please?'

This was it, the sweet balance between a hardened outlaw and a tender gentleman. 'Yes– yes, Arthur please.' Her voice near a cry, it took everything in her to control her tone–

Her blouse ripped, from top to bottom he cut it open, and she wasn't wearing a brasier. Her chest laid bare before him, and he groaned happily at the sight.

With her go-ahead he wasted no time, he let go of her hands and cut her skirt too. Cutting a slit as far as he reached with the knife then threw it to the side, and the tore the rest. She gasped, every nerve in her body on edge. In an instant, his lips were upon hers. Hungry, hungry lips devouvered her as hands roamed her body, groping and grabbing wherever they got purchase. Her own hands greedily searching for a steady hold in his hair, she grabbed a fistful and pulled gently. He moaned at the feeling, such a beautiful sound. His hands slid over her breasts, squeezing them, then pushed the remains of her blouse off of her shoulders.

Except for her undergarments, she stood completley exposed for him. She could practically feel him salivating when he cupped her clothed mound, and finding her clit with expertise and rub it through the fabric.

She tore herself free from his kisses, she had to breathe. A deep gasp brought oxygen to ger lungs once again, allowing her to whimperand moan in equal measure as he worked her clit. The pressure made her knees week, she wriggled, attempting to rut against his hand. But she was too unsteady to make progress. Noticing her difficulties, his other hand slid behind her back and held her steady. Allowing her to chase her pleasure. And left with no lips to kiss, he latched onto her neck instead, to suck at her sweet spot.

She hummed appreciatively, unable to keep a big smile from her lips as pulses of pleasure washed through her. She slid her hands from his hair and unbuttoned his shirt, running her fingers along his strong chest and abdomen, gingerly feeling all of him as her hands worked themselves lower. Finally unbuttoning his pants. She did no longer have to wonder were his happy trail dissapeared too, she bit her lip. He was huge. She stuck her hand into his pants and stroked him eagerly. 'Need ya' Arthur, please.' She panted.

He let out a strained grunt against her shoulder, and his hand left her clit. She whined, but didn't have to stay displeased for long.

Both his hands slid down her sides, and she tried to breathe steadily, but it proved hard. The feeling of his calloused hands on her skin was too heavenly. Suddenly, he lifted her. Pinning her against the cliff wall with his arms and the weight of his body, allowing her to wrap her arms and legs around him. She hadn't known, but he had wordlessly obided her request. He pulled her garments to the side, and line himself up with her entrance. 'Sure about this?' He asked, a final reassurance.

'Yes.' She purred, no hesitation in her answer.

And so he pushed inside her, the sheer size of him was making her want to scream–

'Good girl.' He moaned, and directed his eyes to hers. She repressed a moan, biting her lip hard to hinder it as heat flashed through her. It was two words, yet she could've come undone from them alone, when said by him alone.

He gazed upon her softly, one of his hands left her thigh to gently stroke a strand of hair from her face. She smiled, and so did he. He was just giving her time to adjust, but her heart soared at the simple gesture.

God how could she feel so strongly for a stranger?

Her hands retangled in his hair as Arthur slid out of her, she furrowed her brows– but in a rough, quick thrust. He shoved himself back inside of her, filling her to the brim. He set a cruelly pleasurable, unrelenting pace. Any trace of gentleness gone.

She felt the pressure tightening within her, building snd building until she was on the verge of coming once again. Her hands sunk to his back, clawing and scratching because she did not know what else to do, he was too much, too good, too big. He overstimulated her with his mere prescence. And he knew when her walls tightened around him, adding extra pressure onto his already throbbing member. 'You close girl?' He grunted, his gruff voice breathed against her ear and his hand squeezing her thigh roughly beneath her. God it was sublime.

'Mhm. . . So- close.' She murmurs, her words coming out jagged as her body rocks with Arthurs thrusts. Pushed closer to her release with each thrust, once again, she shut her eyes and spots speckled her eyelids. Breathing turns frantic, she could no longer tell who was who as they mixed, moans and curses spilling from them both.

With a flash of pleasure, searing hot it soured through her, making her whimper uncontrollably. His thrusts slow, holding her securely, caressing her face and kissing her lips as she rides out her high. 'You're alright girl.' He breathes reassuringly, 'Well done Sweetheart.'

Overstimulated tears roll from her eyes, 'Oh Arthur, you sweet, sweet man.' She sighs happily, and he comes a mere second later. His seed filling her and oozing out.

They'd clean themselves tomorrow, since tiredness plagued them currently. He backed away from the wall and she clung to him, desperatley not wanting to part with him.

He carried her back to the tent, this time not bothering to tie her up as they laid down facing eachother. Arthur, grabbed her chin between his index and forefinger. Studying her thuroughly before they finally succumbed to sleep. She could escape if she wanted to, he wouldn't stop her this time. Her plan had worked, they both knew it. But they felt something else too, and they both knew it.

Hooded eyes blinked, blushing at Arthurs intent eyes and searching gaze. Her eyelids weighed down by exhaustion, It'd been a long few days, and before she knew it–

The light dawns, rays of dusty sunlight shone through the flap of their tent as the morning wakes. Bringing warmer tempratures and calm birdsong.

He opens his eyes, and immediately meet hers. She'd just been admiring him. 'Surprised?' She asked, biting her lip and stopping herself from reaching out to touch him.

He smiles, 'Naw, I was hopin' I'd wake up to you girl.'

#arthur murgan #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan imagine #rdr2 #rdr2 smut #rdr2 arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 smut #rdr2 fanfic #rdr smut #red dead redemption #arthur morgan fanfic

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comatosebunny09 · 6 months

Text

hurts so good | astarion a

summary: he’d gotten this devastating bright idea to ruin your life halfway through. stave off your pleasure for as long as he could, even if it meant you’d hate him in the morning. genre(s): erotica, romance warning(s): female anatomy, explicit language, bodily fluids, blood drinking, orgasm denial, brief anal play, cervix fcking, dirty talk, terms of endearment (love, darling), praise kink, drabble notes: heavily influence by this beautiful artwork by @looneylolita. screenshot credit

No time for pleasantries.

Just Astarion notching his hips to yours. Holding you so tight, the fat of your ass craters beneath his fingers as he fucks into you from below.

“Take your pleasure,” he rasps. “Take what you want from me, my love. Use me.”

The depth of his voice is enough to make you clench.

Like you haven’t been doing plenty of that already.

Each roll of his hips is languid. Deep. Purposeful. As if he’s on a mission to unravel every tangle of nerves in you with the slippery scrape of his cock. The head of it intermittently batters against your cervix, punching the air from your lungs.

You tremble so good for him, making his cock twitch and his body shudder.

You’re both saturated with sweat—or perhaps it’s slick? You gave up distinguishing the two after hours of this. This excruciatingly slow dance where you’re fucked within an inch of your life. He stops when your stomach pulls, and your mind floods with endorphins, and fuck.

It’s always with that wicked smile and the mischievous glint in his eyes that he tells you, “Not yet, darling. Gods, not yet. I need you to hold out for me a little longer. You can do that for me, can’t you, my love?”

As if it’s that easy a feat with his thumb running meticulous circles ‘round your clit, and his tongue flittering across your nipples.

The sultry gravel of his voice doesn’t help matters, mingling with the perfect amount of desperation. And the way he looks at you. Strips you down and exalts you like an idol to be worshipped despite the maddening thrust of his hips—

Gods.

You’re too drunk from the pleasure to argue—maybe it’s blood loss? It’s all so very frustrating. Confusing because hours ago, he was telling you to fuck him like he were your toy. And at first, you did, with hands pressed to his sternum for leverage as you bore down on him.

But he’d gotten this devastating bright idea to ruin your life halfway through. Stave off your pleasure for as long as he could, even if it meant you’d hate him in the morning.

Judging by the ethereal, orange glow seeping through your curtains, morning has already begun its sluggish creep across the horizon.

Astarion bucks his hips, bringing you back to the present.

You careen forward, catching yourself on your hands. You’re a panting mess, pupils blown wide, lips parting with the effort to breathe. You sift through the haze of your lust to glare at him.

His eyes crease with mirth in response.

“Astarion, what…what the fuck, man?”

He chuckles, something hoarse and abrasive that gnarls in your stomach. One of his hands smooths up your back to clasp around the nape of your neck. He brings you down to tempt you into a kiss, and he licks into your mouth, evoking a keening sound from your throat as his thumb tenderly skates along your cheek, betraying the devilish snap of his pelvis.

“Focus, darling,” he croaks into the space between your mouths. “Wouldn’t want you giving up on me after coming so far.”

It takes every bit of you not to smack him for being such an insufferable piece of shit.

You settle for growling something half-hearted, coming down onto your elbows, your hands bracing themselves on the crown of his head. You bury your face into the crook of his shoulder, pelvis rolling like waves dragging along the shoreline.

His hand pinches and pulls at your rear as you ride him, occasionally dipping between your ass cheeks to tease your puckering anus and fuck it all if he doesn’t know what it takes to push you to the outskirts of chaos.

He affectionately roots his nose against your neck, a groan rolling like thunder in his rib cage as he traps you in the circle of his arms.

“That’s it, love. Fuck me. Mmm, just like that.”

Behind shuttered lids, you feel the cold prickle of his fangs in your neck. You relinquish a sigh to the balmy air, your nipples sore and pebbled as they rub raw against the rigid pane of his chest whilst your hips rut against him at their own discretion.

Your senses are crowded with only him. The slow pull of your blood into his mouth makes your pussy quake, and you share dual moans from the feel of it. His hands glide down to your rear to steady you. To temper the pace as that sparkling feeling builds between your legs. You whimper with exasperation, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes.

“Astarion,” you gasp, fighting against his grip around your body.

You wince when he retracts his fangs, and he breathes something sweltering and erratic as he drags his flattened tongue up your throat, fingers reaching through the riot of your hair and pulling.

“I know, darling. I know. But you’re performing so wonderfully for me. Stay with me. Just a bit longer.”

You sigh, the sound wet and painful as if forced from your lungs. Maybe if you’re good and continue to play at Astarion’s game, he’ll grant you the luxury of your release.

Until then, you settle for rocking against him, praying to the Gods above for a most handsome reward.

masterlist

#astarion x female reader #astarion x female tav #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion smut #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 smut #smut sunday #astarion bg3 #astarion fanfic #astarion

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moonlinos · 5 months

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Invisible string (pt. I)

♡ Pairing: Lee Minho × fem!reader / Hwang Hyunjin × fem!reader

♡ Synopsis: With your terrible history of boyfriends during high school, you swore off love and vowed to get through university without a relationship. Things are great: you’re in your junior year, in an uncomplicated arrangement with a friend with benefits, and living in a nice sharehouse with two amazing roommates. But things begin to change once you meet Lee Minho, a student in your new class who vows to change your perspective on love.

♡ Genre: A ‘lite version’ of a soulmate AU, fluff, eventual smut, light angst, pining, jealousy, strangers to friends to lovers, friends with benefits

♡ CW: Swearing, sexual themes and discussions, mentions of anxiety/panic attacks, alcohol consumption, mentions of smoking

♡ Word count: 16.4k

♡ A/N: This is a three-part story because I can’t shut up. The second part will be posted sometime next week, and I’ll link it here. I’ve been writing all my life and have written for maaaany fandoms, but being on Tumblr as an active reader of SKZ fics made me want to write for them. So, yeah, guess this is what I’m doing now.

part II →

You are woken up by Hyunjin shifting beside you on the bed. He groans, arm reaching to mess with your already closed curtains. You chuckle.

“You know, the curtains won’t close any more than that.”

“I keep telling you your bed is in a terrible position,” He grumbles as you turn to face him with a smile. “Who thought placing a bed right under a window would be a good idea? Mornings are fucking hell here.”

You shrug. “Well, it’s not my house so I didn’t exactly have a say in that matter.”

“I told you a million times I could help you move it.”

“And I told you a million times Mrs. Choi doesn’t like for us to mess with her furniture,” You explain, turning under the sheets so you could face him before bringing your fingers up to pinch his cheek. Hyunjin scrunches his nose. “Speaking of which, you need to leave. You know her rule: no—”

“No boyfriends spending more than two days at the house,” He interrupted you with an eye roll. “I’m not your boyfriend, though, so that rule shouldn’t apply.” He shrugs.

Hyunjin has been one of your best friends since you first met over two years ago. It was Hyunjin’s first college party and one of the many times your housemates had dragged you along on a night out. His friends had dared him to try and chat you up, arguing it would be hilarious to see him get turned down by an older girl. What they hadn’t expected, however, was for Hyunjin’s clumsy attempt at flirting to be so endearing to you; his pink cheeks and bowl-cut hair made him look like a helpless kid despite his height towering over you. Before you knew it, you had spent the entirety of the party talking to him about everything and anything, only stopping once your housemate Eunha emerged from inside the house to drag you home with her as she desperately tried to dodge a rather insistent guy’s advances. After that day, you and Hyunjin became almost inseparable.

You can’t quite pinpoint when you began hooking up. It was meaningless in the best sense of the word. It was simply something that had happened. All you can remember is that Jisung had recently bleached Hyunjin’s hair after yet another dare from his friend. It had started with cuddles, which turned to kisses, which turned to touches, until you eventually slept together for the first time sometime last year after an excruciatingly stressful exam period. It had never once gotten weird between the two of you; the line was always clear: you were just friends who hooked up due to convenience. Everybody had needs and stress and shit complicating their lives, and fucking your best friend was far more practical and safe than going out to look for a random hook-up whenever you needed it.

You find yourself smiling at Hyunjin once again. His now long black hair fell in his eyes as he stretched his arms over his head.

“Yes, you’re not my boyfriend, but how am I supposed to explain what we are to a little old lady?”

“Doesn’t she always say she’s super modern?” Hyunjin raises his eyebrows at you with a chuckle. “Maybe she’d like a situationship of her own and you’re depriving her of that by keeping this knowledge to yourself.”

You roll your eyes at his words, attempting to push him off your bed. “Why did you sleep here, anyway?”

Hyunjin sits up on the bed, a pout on his full lips. “I had a shitty date. I was sad and lonely. Glad to know you were paying attention to my story.”

“Hyune,” You sigh, ‘When you tell me said story while fucking me, can I really be blamed for not remembering anything?”

Hyunjin flicks your forehead lightly. “Yes, you can. At this point, it’s like our thing to vent about bad dates during sex,” He argues before getting up from your bed, finding his shirt, which had somehow been thrown over your study desk.

“You mean it’s your thing,” Correcting him, you get up as well, turning to fix up your sheets. “I don’t even go on dates and you know that. The only thing I vent to you about is how awful academic life is.”

Once you turned to face him again, Hyunjin was busy messily tying his hair. His brows promptly furrowed as he took in your words. “Remind me why you literally never leave the house again?”

“Just don’t want to get distracted. Getting my degree is more important than getting a boyfriend.” You lie with a shrug.

Your history with relationships was something you kept secret from everyone you met after high school. You feel embarrassed, as if it was all somehow your fault. After five failed relationships where you had been the one to be broken up with or cheated on, you began to accept that maybe the problem really was you. Maybe something about you makes men want to yell at and cheat on you. Perhaps you are just bound to be a distraction until they find someone better.

Which is why you don’t date.

Would anyone go through the hassle of reading a long, tedious book if they already knew about the bad ending?

Hyunjin rolls his eyes at your answer, crossing his arms over his chest. “Your degree isn’t going to keep you company when you’re eighty and alone.”

“Well, my degree isn’t going to wake up one day and suddenly decide to leave me either,” you refute, earning an annoyed groan from your friend as you walk past him to leave your room.

“You literally never have fun, though. All you do is go to class, work, and study. You should at least pick up a new hobby,” Hyunjin insists as he follows you, walking into the kitchen-living room area. “Go out more, stop avoiding college parties like the plague before it’s too late to experience the joys of watching your friend throw up on some random person’s couch.”

You make a face at the offers, grabbing your mug from the cupboard. “Why would I want to see that? Besides, I have hobbies.”

“I meant a social hobby. Sitting in your room watching fucking iceberg videos isn’t sociable,” He explains, and you let out an aggrieved gasp. Your iceberg videos were educational and entertaining, thank you very much. Behind you, your housemate’s bedroom door opens, and you turn to watch as she stumbles out of her room, looking half-awake. “Soojung, don’t you think she should get a new hobby?” Hyunjin addresses the blonde girl, who stares daggers at him.

“If I say yes, will you two stop speaking so loud?”

Hyunjin slams one hand on the kitchen counter, his other pointing a finger at you. “See, she said yes. You’re outnumbered, now you have to stop spending all your free time holed up inside your room.”

Soojung groans, stepping into the kitchen and shoving Hyunjin to the side. “He’s annoying, but he is kind of right,” she mumbles.

Truthfully, you did feel bad about having essentially wasted three years at university by actively avoiding parties and invitations any chance you got. The only parties you did attend, however, only served as an irritating reminder as to why you shouldn’t put yourself in those situations. Parties and bars only meant desperate college boys. Desperate for sex, for attention, for a potential relationship. For someone’s heart to break. You had met Hyunjin at a party, for fuck’s sake. Who knows just how south things between you two could’ve gone if he had become interested in you romantically?

But, as much as you hate to admit it, Hyunjin is right. Your life is essentially an endless loop of studying and working. You only socialize when your roommates are home, when your few friends come over, and when you and Hyunjin hook up. But you aren’t ready to step out of your comfortable bubble of avoidance, so you settle for the best thing you can think of.

As Hyunjin rummages through your fridge like he lived there and Soojung stirs her coffee blankly, you loudly set your mug down on the counter. “An elective course,” you announce.

The both of them turn to face you with the same puzzled expression.

“The fuck?” Hyunjin questions, and you roll your eyes.

“I’ll take an elective,” you explain matter-of-factly, “The university offers a lot of great courses in things I’m actually interested in. It’ll be a way for me to get out of the house without having to watch a friend of mine puke on a couch or whatever atrocity it is that you said.”

Hyunjin slams the fridge door closed, earning a scolding scream from Soojung, and walks over to where you’re standing. He pulls you into a tight embrace, and you can hear the smile in his voice as he says, “You’re such a fucking nerd, what the fuck, but I’m so glad your hermit life is coming to an end.”

The elective course you choose is Japanese. It’s a language you’ve always been interested in learning, and while you know the class is merely introductory, you figure it will be fun to learn some phrases and expressions. You might even find yourself wanting to learn more in the future, and you’ll undoubtedly be glad you took this class during university.

Even if that means having to endure Hyunjin calling you a weeb.

You are able to begin attending classes a week after signing up; the lessons lining up with your work schedule to a T. The professor explained that, since you had joined the course late, you would likely need some guidance with phrases and words the class had already been taught. You didn’t mind, actually feeling excited in the morning despite your boring routine classes since you knew you would be doing something new you enjoyed in the afternoon instead of simply killing time around your house until it was time for you to work.

You walk into your first class ten minutes late, mentally cursing Eunha for being so good at telling stories about her weirdly entertaining life that it made it physically difficult for you to drag yourself away from her. You mouth a brief apology to your professor before scanning the room and scurrying over to the only available seat.

You sit down in haste so as to not disrupt the class any further, swinging your bag over your chair and accidentally knocking over your seatmate’s water bottle all over his side of the desk. Luckily, the bottle lands on the soft surface of his notebook, barely making any noise. Unluckily, said bottle had been filled with coffee, staining his notes a faded brown color. You silently gasp, instinctively reaching out your hands to fruitlessly try and dry the pages that are now sticking to each other.

“I am so sorry, what the fuck,” you mutter under your breath as you continue to inspect his notebook frantically. “I’ll buy you a new notebook and another cup of coffee as soon as class ends, I promise,” You whisper to him, your eyes boring holes into the stained pages as you watch the bitter liquid slowly dissolve some of the black ink. At this point, you’re rambling out of nervousness, but you can’t seem to stop, adding, “Hell, I’m so angry at myself for what I did I’d bind you a new notebook and brew you some fresh coffee myself.”

You mentally berate yourself for your word vomit. It was just your luck that you would make someone hate your guts on the first day you attended a class.

After what feels like minutes of silence from him, you are prepared for the imminent burst of rage bound to come your way, the guy’s wrath more than likely stirring inside him as he sits beside you and watches as you foolishly shake the piece of paper, hoping it will miraculously return to its untainted state.

However, what you aren’t prepared for is the small burst of laughter that leaves your seatmate’s lips; it’s quiet, but you’re close enough to him to be able to hear it.

You furrow your brows, finally mustering the courage to look up at him for the first time.

“Did you…” You trail off. You feel a strange sensation inside your chest as your eyes meet his. It was something you had never felt before, a small burst of a fluttering that briskly washed over you before disappearing just as quickly. Like a pinwheel was placed inside of you and a strong wind had suddenly started blowing. You shake your head, returning to the matter at hand. You are probably just experiencing some anxiety due to what has happened, you argue mentally. “Did you just laugh at me?”

As you finally take him in properly, the guy before you looks as dazed as you felt just now, courtesy of your minor panic attack; his lips agape and his round eyes blinking while his dark pupils are fixed on you. You two remain that way for a few seconds in an impromptu staring contest that causes the peculiar feeling to bloom inside your chest once again.

When he finally speaks, his voice is soft. “You… offered to bind a notebook for a stranger,” His lips twitch into a grin. “It was a little funny.”

You open your mouth but promptly close it, unable to come up with an answer that wouldn’t make you appear like more of an idiot than you already do. You sigh. “Sorry,” you mumble, your voice low as well. “I say stupid shit when I’m nervous.”

He waves his hand dismissively. “It’s okay. I’m—”

“You two, on the back,” your professor calls out in a louder voice, however still keeping her calm demeanor. You and your seatmate turn to look at her. “I’m going to teach a few new phrases useful for traveling now. How about you two talk after class? This is actually quite perfect. Minho is one of my best students, so he could help you catch up to where we are.” She offers the two of you a small smile, and you feel your cheeks burn.

This class wasn’t mandatory, and you didn’t need it to get your degree. It is still a class, nonetheless. Ever since high school, you’ve always hated people who disrespect their professors by brazenly talking or sleeping during class.

“I’m sorry, professor,” You muttered. Beside you, your seatmate — Minho, as he was just called — scoots closer to you and whispers something you don’t understand under his breath. You look at him, confused. He chuckles, and you feel his breath on your cheek. It makes the odd fluttering return.

“Gomenasai,” He repeats more clearly, his voice louder, “It’s ‘I’m sorry’ in Japanese.” He offers you a smile, and you soak in just how good-looking he is. Ever since you first raised your head to look at him — when the pinwheel inside your chest rapidly spun and unexplainedly made you feel nervous — you knew he was a handsome guy, but his soft smile and calm eyes made him look even more annoyingly pretty.

Before you’re able to do it yourself, your professor speaks again and pulls you out of your trance.

“In this case, Sumimasen would be a bit more appropriate,” she corrects Minho, who clicks his tongue and mutters something under his breath. The woman chuckles at his reaction. “It’s okay. This is also something you can explain to Y/N after class.”

As the class went on, you couldn’t help but notice how Minho didn’t take any notes. Your mind latched onto how you ruined his notebook and how it was your fault that he couldn’t properly study during today’s class, so you couldn’t find the courage to offer him some paper so he could take notes.

After almost an hour of unrelenting guilt swallowing you up slowly, you place your hand on Minho’s shoulder as soon as the professor announces class is over after assigning the students a small written assignment.

“We could talk outside? If you want,” you offer him, feeling the now-familiar nervousness come back, making your mouth speak faster than your brain can even think to rationalize, “There’s a bench I really like outside this building. It’s a good spot. There’s a nice shade, and it’s secluded enough that people don’t bother me when I’m studying. Or googling how to bind a notebook.”

Minho lets out a brief chuckle. “Okay. I would love to talk on your favorite bench.”

You blink at him. “I don’t have a favorite bench.”

“Hm, it sure sounded like it. You listed some good attributes of that bench,” He argues, a grin etched onto his lips.

“I told you I say stupid shit when I’m nervous.”

He raises an eyebrow at your words. “You’re nervous?”

“Of course I am. I never bound a notebook before.”

Minho lets out a hearty laugh this time, his head thrown back and his eyes turning into crescent moons before he shakes his head. He picks his notebook off the table, showing you the crinkly light brown-tinted pages. “It’s dry now. I actually kind of like it, gave the pages a sort of vintage vibe. You don’t have to bind me a new notebook,” He reassures you, placing the small book into his bag. “As much as I would love to see how that would turn out.”

And just like that, your nervousness fades away. You smile at Minho, asking that he follow you over to your favorite bench.

The two of you talked for almost two hours. During that time, Minho helped you catch up with the vocabulary and phrases you had missed in class. When you asked him how he was able to know so much off the top of his head, his lips curled into a crooked grin as he sheepishly told you that he had been taking Japanese lessons since he was in high school. He explained that because he procrastinated signing up for an elective course, the advanced class was full by the time he got to it, so he decided to go for the introductory one instead. You chuckled and questioned why he would choose to spend his time on a course when he already knew everything being taught. He shrugged and explained that it was nice to have at least one class in which he didn’t have to try and that the fact that it made him feel smart also helped.

Not even your shift at work was able to make your conversation stop flowing, as Minho offered to walk with you to the coffee shop upon realizing it was near his apartment.

That was one of the many coincidences and things in common you found to have with each other that day.

It started with ordinary things like the fact that Minho had three cats back home just like you and how he had been collecting plushies since he was a child, while you had started your own collection as soon as you had access to money of your own. Or how your favorite authors were Jane Austen and Charlotte Brontë — Minho swore you would die if you saw the special edition books he had back at home.

Then, it became a bit more amusing as you found out that Minho had worked at a convenience store chain when he first finished high school, and it was the same one you worked at for your first job after starting university. And you both had worked there for exactly a year and two months before quitting. You then told him about how you ended up attending this university after your top three choices turned you down, and his choices were the same as yours. And just like you, he also got rejected by his top three options, which led him to attend the same university as you.

You two couldn’t hide your bewilderment, eyes widening and lips bursting into laughter as these linked facts kept spilling out during your conversation. It was strange, you thought, but in a comforting way. It was almost as if you two had been living weirdly similar lives, all while having no clue about the other’s existence.

The two of you approach the small coffee shop while talking about your degrees. You try your best not to bore Minho with your ‘existential crisis-inducing psychology talks,’ as Hyunjin always put it, and you mostly listen to him as he talks about programming. He tells you that his dream is to develop cozy games that people can jump into without much thought, simply to relax. He says he knows how stressful life is and that people sometimes need something they can mindlessly do to get their minds off of shit. You resonate with it more than you care to admit, as cozy idle games are one of your favorite things to do while locked inside your room.

“So I do these freelancing gigs to make money but I’m actually set to start my first quote-unquote real job in two weeks,” he beams as you two stop in front of the coffee shop. Minho’s eyes lit up the moment he started speaking about his degree, and although you didn’t understand most of the terms he used, it is always endearing to watch someone talk about something they’re so passionate about. “There’s this guy who’s graduating soon who recruited me and a friend for a project he’s working on, so it’s not technically a job and we’ll work in his living room. I’ll still get some money and the chance to actually develop something, though, so it’s better than nothing.”

You smile at him. “If you like programming as much as your words led me to believe, I’m sure it won’t even feel like a job.”

Minho’s ears turned a faint shade of pink, and he scratched his head. “Sorry, I talked your ear off about shit you don’t even understand.”

“I think everybody likes to hear people talk about things they like,” you assure him, “It was a good talk. I still can’t believe we have so many things in common. It was kind of funny how they kept coming up.”

Minho chuckles, bouncing on the heels of his feet. “Guess the universe is giving us signs that we should be friends.”

“It seems like it.”

That day, you work with a persistent smile engraved on your lips. You can’t remember the last time you felt so good about meeting someone new. Despite your awkward first encounter, you found that talking to Minho was as easy as talking to an old childhood friend. It felt refreshing. The last friend you made was Hyunjin — whom you were so grateful to now for pushing you out of your comfort zone — and after that, you had unknowingly closed yourself off.

Minho had managed to open up your mind to the idea of letting someone in almost comically fast. And you loved that.

It’s been a month since you’ve been attending Japanese classes, and your studying sessions with Minho — which always turned into long conversations on what now had really become your favorite bench — were a weekly appointment, much like having him walk with you to work twice a week.

Today, however, Minho stopped you with a hand on your shoulder as you made your way toward your usual spot. When he asked you if you would like to study at his favorite bakery today instead, his eyes rapidly blinking as he looked at you through his bangs which had grown to slightly cover his eyes since you met him, you just couldn’t say no. He stammered as he promised that the place was even closer than the one where you worked, so you wouldn’t be late for your shift.

You smiled at his apparent nervousness, finding it endearing. You knew all too well how stressed you felt when offering something new or initiating plans with a new friend, and Minho seemed to be the same.

“Good thing you made this offer today, on my day off,” you bumped shoulders with him. “It’s almost like you knew.”

You begin walking, and Minho gently pushes you to the side so that he’s the one walking on the edge of the side of the sidewalk. You shoot him a questioning look, and he blinks at you again.

“Sorry, force of habit,” he chuckles, “My mom taught me a guy shouldn’t let a girl walk on the street side. I know it’s old-fashioned and probably made me seem like an ancient guy who wouldn’t let his wife work or something. Sorry.”

You shake your head. “No, it’s kind of sweet. I never had anyone do that with me.”

You feel the pinwheel twirl inside your chest again.

The two of you approach a familiar building together. You furrow your eyebrows as you take in the floral curtains on the windows and the pretty font adorning the store sign of your favorite bakery. You think about how it would be nice if you two came here on another day. Maybe you could use that opportunity to finally introduce Minho to your other friends.

You only realize Minho has stopped walking when he calls out your name. When you turn around, he’s standing in front of the bakery with a smile.

“This is the place.” He points toward the white door with a nod as you return to where he’s standing.

No fucking way.

“This is your favorite bakery?” You ask, although it is a stupid question. Minho nods. You play with the strap of your bag. “Okay, this is starting to sound ridiculous, but I swear I’m not lying. This is my favorite bakery, too.”

Minho’s eyes widen at your words, and his lips curl into a smile again. “Shut the fuck up.”

“I will not,” You chuckle.

Minho opens the door and the two of you walk inside, the familiar smell of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods bringing back great memories you made in this place. You often come here with your two roommates; it’s close enough to both your house and university that you can skip out on taking the bus, the atmosphere is always relaxing and comforting, not to mention the delicious cakes they sell. You smile to yourself as you remember Eunha scuffing down far too many slices of their chocolate cake after a nasty breakup a couple of months ago, tears streaming down her face so violently that the poor little old man who owns the shop appeared to check up on her.

“Their lemon cake is my favorite.”

“The lemon cake is what made me—”

You and Minho speak concurrently, with you unable to even finish your sentence before you both freeze for a couple of seconds in front of the only small table available at the crowded shop.

He’s the first one to move, pulling out his chair a bit awkwardly. “We should…” He trails off before clearing his throat as you sit down before him. “Should really make a written list of things we weirdly have in common.”

“At this point, I think it’d be easier if we made one of what we don’t have in common.”

You two settle for the obvious choice of two pieces of lemon cake with a cup of coffee for him and a glass of cola for you. Minho almost looked offended when you informed him that you hate coffee, wondering out loud why you even worked at a coffee shop before ensuring he could change your mind with just the five amazing facts about coffee he thought about off the top of his head. You shrugged him off with a grin. You couldn’t deny the irony of being a barista and having to make endless cups of a drink you despised daily, but you were sure Minho could never change your mind about coffee.

You two talked about your improvement in Japanese in the last month until the waiter returned with your order. Minho insists you’re a natural and could be on his level in a couple of years if you tried, but you roll your eyes at his compliments. You’ve never been naturally good at anything. That wasn’t about to change now.

“You know,” Minho begins once the waiter steps away from your table, looking around the coffee shop. People slowly started to leave as it got later in the day; the place was now much quieter, and the atmosphere even more cozy. “I used to think I would meet somebody in a place like this.”

“Like, in a romantic sense?”

Minho hums, still looking out to his side. You notice his side profile is really pretty, and you have to hide your smile by sipping your drink.

When he returns his gaze to you, he’s the one smiling. “Yes, in a romantic sense. Like being destined to meet someone.”

“Look at you, a hopeless romantic,” You roll your eyes with a chuckle. You never thought of Minho as someone like that. He seemed rather methodical, always following a routine and too engrossed in his codes to be preoccupied with something like love.

Minho furrowed his brows. “Why the eye roll?”

“I just don’t believe in that stuff,” you shrug with a small smile, “Stuff like destiny, soulmates, love…” You trail off, taking your spoon and poking the slice of cake in front of you. “Love has the awful tendency of being bad.”

Of course, you once believed all those things. Doesn’t everybody? But love has shown you time and time again that those are things reserved only for some people. And, clearly, you are not one of them. So why believe in it?

“It’s the most amazing thing in life,” Minho’s voice almost startled you as you were so deeply entranced in your thoughts.

You don’t lift your head to answer him, instead drawing mindless shapes on the icing on top of your cake.

“What is?”

“Love,” He replies in a soft voice. When you finally look at him, you’re surprised to find Minho’s deep eyes already looking at you, a small smile adorning his lips. “Love is the most amazing thing in life.”

You freeze.

You tear your eyes away from him, gaze focusing on the plate in front of you again.

You were careful with your rules. No parties, no bars, no talking to your male co-workers unless absolutely necessary, and no male friends unless they were in a relationship or proved beyond a reasonable doubt to only be interested in you platonically — which was what Minho was. So, why did him bringing up love make you feel so nervous?

Under the table, you unwittingly bounce your leg. This was stupid. Minho has been your friend for a month now; you see each other twice a week, and you talk for hours, always so comfortable around each other in a way that is still so new to you. He has never flirted with you or treated you in any way that led you to believe that he wanted anything more than to be your friend. You will not let your foolish trauma ruin what was proving to be an amazing friendship. He was simply sharing his thoughts on a topic. That’s all love was: a conversation topic.

You force out a chuckle as you snap yourself out of your senseless panic and look up at Minho once more. “We can just agree to disagree?”

He’s quiet for a few seconds, something you can’t quite pinpoint swimming in his deep eyes as he looks at you. Instead of breaking the silence, he scoops up a piece of cake with his spoon and raises it like a glass. You shake your head with a giggle as you realize what he’s doing, toasting your spoons together at the center of the table before you both eat your spoonfuls of cake.

“You know,” He speaks as soon as he’s done eating, his eyes having never left yours. “Love can never be bad. I don’t think so, at least. It never makes anything worse. It can only ever make things better.”

You hum and shift in your seat, lowering your gaze toward the table. The truth is, you hate talking about love. That — coupled with your shame regarding your past relationships — is the reason why you never indulge in this type of conversation, even with your own mother. But years of swallowing down your thoughts and opinions whenever the subject was brought up only caused a buildup of emotions in your throat. So much so that you only realized you were talking once you were midway through a sentence.

“Love can make so many things worse,” you affirmed, your eyes following the polka-dot pattern on the tablecloth, “Losing someone is bad enough, but put love into that equation, and it just worsens tenfold.”

Minho nods. “By that logic, you can say that having someone by your side is always good, but if it’s someone you love, it makes it better tenfold, right?”

You let out a chuckle as you realize you two could go back and forth about that subject for ages.

But it felt good to finally speak out your feelings on the matter, so you continue, “Love can’t be that great if people can so easily fall out of it and for so many different but equally stupid reasons. You’re suddenly not attractive to them anymore, or you have different opinions, or they love picking fights but hate it when it’s the other way around…” You trail off, swallowing down a lump in your throat as you speak out of experience. But Minho didn’t need to know that. You lift your eyes. “Not to mention falling in love with a new person all while supposedly already being in love with someone.”

“That’s not genuine love,” Minho shakes his head with furrowed eyebrows, as if it was his first time hearing of such things happening. “Real love is unconditional and understanding. Real love makes the person you love beautiful simply because they’re them. Real love doesn’t allow you to hurt the person you love because it feels like you’re hurting yourself as well.” His expression softens, and his eyes lock onto yours. “And real love makes it so that you can only see the one you love. You can’t possibly fall in love with someone else if you’re truly already in love.”

You gnaw on your bottom lip, nodding slowly. You hate the fact that part of you is desperate to believe that what Minho said was true. And you hate it even more that an even bigger part has already dismissed every single word that left his lips.

Desperate to shift the subject from Reasons Why My Exes Left Me — which only leaves you feeling sad and pathetic — back to Love Is Amazing, you decide to try and lighten the mood.

“Okay, but then explain to me how love is so great when you can just have sex with anyone, and it feels the same either way?” You question him with a teasing grin on your face. Minho shakes his head with a smile and eats another bite of his cake. You continue, “Be it a stranger at a party you met ten minutes ago or the love of your life, sex will always be sex. Therefore, you’re wrong, mister Love-Makes-Everything-Better.”

Minho chuckles around his mug, eyes closing as he almost spits out his coffee. His eyes are like crescent moons when he looks at you again, clearly amused by your words. “Well, yeah, of course, sex will always feel good no matter who you’re doing it with. It’s sex, and sex feels good,” He shrugs dismissively. “But sex with love is different. You aren’t just fucking, just fulfilling your own desires selfishly. Love makes sex better because you feel good simply by making the person who’s so important to you feel good. It makes you want to melt into the other person and become one with them because close isn’t close enough when you’re in love.

“Touching them feels like a gift, like heaven. Tasting them feels like heaven. Hearing their voice in their most blissful state feels like heaven. The trust and connection you feel in that moment is heaven, and that’s only possible through love. You can have sex with anyone, but you can only make love to someone you love, and those are two different things. That’s how love makes sex better. Therefore, I’m not wrong.”

As you take in Minho’s words, spoken so casually, like it was common knowledge, they leave you speechless. You watch him as he smiles triumphantly when he realizes you aren’t going to refute him — because you can’t refute him.

You berate yourself mentally as you notice the familiar feeling of arousal wash over you as you repeat his words inside your head. Not because it was Minho who said those things, but simply because that kind of sex sounded so good. Good in a way you had never once experienced before. Like heaven, as he had put it.

Your experience with sex has always been simply about fulfilling desires. You thought that was all there was to it.

Until now.

And even so, with your ex-boyfriends, it was always unbalanced. Ninety percent about their pleasure and only ten percent about yours. The first time you had a guy go down on you was the first time you had sex with Hyunjin, and by that point, you had already had five boyfriends. It felt weird when it happened, and you remember Hyunjin whining about how you didn’t have to ask him every five minutes if he was really okay with doing that. It had always been different with him, the good kind of different. He had never been selfish during sex; if anything, Hyunjin was too much of a giver, sometimes forgetting about his own pleasure in order to focus on yours. You thought that was the best sex you could ever have.

Until now.

Because, even with Hyunjin, there was never a genuine connection. It never felt like a gift to touch him and have him touch you. It was never anything more than sex, more than something you both did because it felt good and it was easy. He slept in your bed, and he cuddled you until morning came, but it had never once felt anything close to what Minho described.

You can’t help but wonder if Minho has ever experienced that. You desperately want to ask him, but you two aren’t close enough for that yet.

You also can’t help but wonder why you spend the rest of the evening raging a war against yourself as your mind is consumed with thoughts of what it would be like to experience that kind of sex with him.

It’s late in the night on the following Saturday, and your phone incessantly vibrating under your pillow rudely demands your attention just as you’re about to fall asleep. You squint your eyes as you type in your password. You sigh as you see Hyunjin’s name on your screen because of course it’s him.

Hyune: I’m outside open the door Hyune: please open the door? quick? Hyune: mrs. choi is gonna kill me if I use the intercom pls I don’t wanna die Hyune: I’m in my pajamas do you know how humiliating this is

Hyune: and I’m highkey pissed off Hyune: I WILL sleep on the bench outside your house if you don’t let me in and then I’ll die and who’s gonna live with the guilt? Hyune: you Hyune: OPENM TEH DOOR

You roll your eyes at his dramatic texts, stepping out of the comfort of your bed and padding across the floor as quietly as possible so as not to wake up your roommates. You open your front door and speed past the hallway and Mrs. Choi’s home, reaching the outside door in record time. It’s something you’ve done more times than you care to admit in order to let Hyunjin into your house. Your tenant was a sweet woman, insistent that she was modern and understanding of ‘young people’, but she despised people coming into your home any later than midnight.

You step outside, finding Hyunjin pacing back and forth like a creep in front of your house. True to his words, he stood in his checkered pajama pants and a black t-shirt. His hair was in a ponytail, the strands messily sticking out everywhere like he had tossed and turned in bed before coming here.

“You look like shit,” you speak up, causing him to jump and let out a gasp. You chuckle as he scowls at you, climbing the few steps to reach the door.

“I had a fight with Mingyu,” he grumbles as you two walk toward your front door. “He told me I spilled paint on his favorite shirt, which is fucking impossible since I don’t even paint anywhere near his shit.”

“I mean, you are a messy painter.”

Hyunjin shoots you a look as you close your front door behind you. You take off your shoes and walk toward your bedroom in silence. This was routine. Hyunjin knew the rules: no knocking on the outside door, no buzzing the intercom, no shouting from outside, keep your voice down in the hallway, no talking until you reach your bedroom. It was all automatic at this point.

His voice is louder when he speaks again inside your locked bedroom. “First of all, I am not a messy painter. The paint is messy, not me. Second of all, if Mingyu wasn’t a fucking idiot, maybe he wouldn’t leave his favorite shirt on the floor of the living room right by my art corner,” Hyunjin huffs and crosses his arms over his chest, “If that’s how he treats his favorite shirt, I feel bad for his girlfriend.”

You let out a chuckle, which is cut short by him pulling you into his arms. “Hyunjin, that analogy makes no sense.”

“Yes, it does. You treat your favorite shirt like shit, you treat your girlfriend like shit,” he states matter-of-factly before pulling you into a kiss.

This was routine. It was all automatic at this point.

Hyunjin kisses you like he’s angry. Because he is, and that’s one of the reasons why you two do this. You let out your frustrations during sex. You complain, and you let off steam until you both feel okay again. It’s been this way for a year and some months now, and you never once thought anything of it. It was beneficial for you both, so why change or question it?

But that was before your talk with Minho. Before you were awoken to the truth that you’d been having meaningless sex your whole life.

When you’re pulled away from your thoughts, you’re already laid in your bed with Hyunjin hovering over you. His lips and hands wander through your body as he mumbles things you can’t quite understand; you can only make out your name and Mingyu’s mixed with curses. You try to bring yourself back to the moment, bringing your legs to wrap around Hyunjin’s waist and bring him closer to you.

He stops kissing your neck and yanks his shirt over his head, his hair untying in the process and falling on his face like a curtain. You giggle and try to fix it with your fingers. Hyunjin pouts.

“Don’t you think I’m right?”

You frown and hope he can’t see your confused expression in the dim lighting. You truly weren’t paying any attention to what he had been saying, too engrossed in your thoughts and too busy feeling sorry for yourself. Hyunjin’s tendency to tell you about his frustrations during sex always left you a bit puzzled, but it was also oddly sweet. It was like he trusted you so deeply as a friend that he believed he could share anything with you, no matter the time.

So you nod, lightly pulling at his hair. “Of course you’re right.”

He hums and buries his head on your chest, grinding his hips into your clothed core. “Of course I’m right,” he mumbles under his breath.

Everything is a blur after that, your mind insistent on repeating Minho’s words like an annoying echo. When Hyunjin’s tongue fucked you hastily, and he murmured something about you tasting so good, all you could hear was Minho’s voice telling you how tasting the person you love feels like heaven. When Hyunjin pushed his cock into you, his hands gripping your thighs and head buried in your neck, all you could think about was how this sex paled in comparison to what you could’ve been having — what you could have already had — if only you weren’t so damn unlovable.

You knew that Minho didn’t intend to make you feel bad with his words. They weren’t targeted at you. But that didn’t stop your mind from sabotaging and putting yourself down. It was one of your biggest talents, after all.

Your body was present and responsive the entire time; you moaned because it felt good, and you kissed Hyunjin because you wanted to. But you were mentally somewhere else.

And the worst thing is, you’re a hundred percent sure Hyunjin doesn’t even notice it.

Because this wasn’t love. This was only sex.

And this was all you had ever known.

Time flies by faster than your brain can comprehend; before you know it, another month goes by. You only managed to go to your favorite bakery with Minho one more time before your work hours were changed, your shift now starting a mere thirty minutes after your Japanese class ends. He still walked you to work twice a week, but you would be lying if you said it didn’t upset you to have to let go of your weekly talks.

Minho also became busier due to his own job. With so little time to see each other face to face outside of class, most of your talks took place over text. He talked about his job with so much adoration it made you a little jealous; his partners were now simply friends he worked with, and his joy over finally being able to create a cozy game made it so that he pushed himself over his limit, often sleeping on his friend’s couch after working until four a.m. and getting through the next day on excessive amounts of coffee.

That was how you two came up with the idea of Minho dropping by the café where you work to pick up coffee for him and his friends. He would drop by at least twice every day, his friend’s house — which also served as their office — only one bus stop away.

The first time Minho came by, he had his wallet and phone in one hand, a sharpie and a block of sticky notes in the other. You eyed him curiously as he scribbled on the piece of paper while your co-worker prepared his coffee. When he was done, he stuck the note to the monitor in front of you on the counter. You furrowed your brows as your eyes shifted from the Japanese words on the bright yellow note back to Minho’s smug face. You were certainly grateful he at least had the courtesy of including the romanization of whatever he had written down. Not that it helped you in any way.

“Since our studying sessions after class were rudely taken from us, this is your extra homework. It’s all words we already learned. You just gotta think a little bit, and you’ll figure it out. You’re smart, I know you can do it,” He assured you.

Expect you weren’t that smart and ended up giving up by the time you got home that night. The piece of paper was no longer sticky on the border due to you carrying it around all day, boring holes into it as if that would magically give you the answer. You snapped a picture of it as you got ready for bed and sent it to Minho, begging him to put you out of your misery and simply give you the answer. ‘I want to drink coffee,’ he replied. You slapped your hand over your forehead with so much force you were sure the entire house had heard you. He was right; you did learn that in class. Curse the Japanese language for being so difficult.

After that, it became a routine. You waited expectantly for Minho’s visits daily, but you are extra excited today. It’s a Friday, and your birthday is tomorrow. After much pestering from Eunha, you agreed to have a small gathering at your house. It only made sense to invite Minho; he’s become one of your closest friends in the two months you’ve known him, after all.

As he walks into the coffee shop, sticky notes and sharpie in hand, you chuckle to yourself. You two chat about the development of his game, with Minho kindly using layman’s terms when explaining it to you. He also tells you about how one of his friends got so frustrated with a code that he threw his phone at a wall before immediately regretting it and crying on the floor next to Minho’s desk. Before you can get worried, he assures you that it’s just an ordinary day at the office, and the three of them end up laughing everything off at the end of the day.

After taking his order, you watch as he begins writing down your homework for the day on the small piece of paper in his hand. As you look around the coffee shop, most tables are empty, and the sun is starting to set outside the glass doors.

“You wanna come over this Saturday?” You ask Minho, who looks up at you before adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. That was one thing you learned about Minho since he began coming over: he wears glasses. Not every day, but enough times for you to notice how good he looks with them. But friends find each other attractive all the time, you justify it. “You never came over to my house, and my roommates really want to meet you. Plus, it’s my birthday tomorrow.”

Minho’s eyes widen. “Your birthday? And you save that information to the end?”

“It’s not a big deal. I usually never even celebrate.” You shrug lightly. You’ve never been big on birthdays, as you just don’t see the reason why it’s supposed to feel different from any other day of the year. “But my roommate pestered me to do something this year, so I agreed to have a party.”

Minho shifts on his feet. “I… really hate parties…” He trails off.

“It’s not a party party. I promise!” You hold up your pinky finger. “It’s more of a get-together, just my roommates and my only two other friends. And, you…” You trail off, “If you come.”

Minho blinks his eyes a couple of times before tearing the piece of paper he was writing on from the pad and crumpling it in his hand. He quickly jots down something new and sticks it to your forehead.

“Minho!” You scold him, to which he laughs, his nose scrunching and eyes crinkling. You advert your gaze from him as your persistent thoughts regarding how unfairly pretty Minho is begin to flood your brain once again. You take the note and analyze it:

はい (Hai)

You smile as you understand the word, looking up at him.

“I’d love to come to your birthday party,” He beams. “Thank you for inviting me.”

To say Minho is nervous would be an understatement.

He gets out of his car twice, ready to march back inside his friend’s apartment like a coward and pretend that nothing happened both times. Only when he thinks back to how you smiled at him when he agreed to your invitation does he find the courage to start the car and drive to your house. He’d noticed for a while now how much he likes you. But it was when he agreed with the idea of going to the café you worked at to pick up coffee that it truly dawned on him that he really liked you. Minho hated taking the bus, he hated doing anything other than zoning out on the couch during his breaks, he hated bustling shops, and he hated how his co-workers both managed to have such intricate coffee orders.

Yet he agreed to that idea, even suggesting he drop by two times a day.

He noticed he’d felt a familiar small whirlpool inside his chest whenever he was with you, when he heard you talk about something you liked or saw you smile. He’s also noticed that this tiny whirlpool has been growing bigger and bigger the more he’s been around you.

But that doesn’t scare him. Minho loves love. He loves to be in love, to love someone, and to make that person feel loved. It’s his favorite thing about life. If he was honest, he missed it so much he didn’t know how he was able to live without it.

Just down the block from your house, he parks his car and gathers his phone and his present for you — clearly clumsily wrapped, even with his co-workers’ help. He feels another wave of nervousness wash over him as he approaches the house; he’s an hour late and needs to mentally prepare to socialize with people he’s never met before. Minho chuckles as he realizes a silly party makes him more nervous than the prospect of possibly falling in love.

You open the door almost as soon as he rings the intercom, and he walks down the hallway into your house door; the crooked box he’s been holding makes his hands sweat. The first thing he notices as you open the door is your styled hair with a big white bow on the back, looking much prettier than the ugly bow he and his friends managed to stick on top of his present. He smiles at the sight and scratches his ear in a futile attempt to stop them from turning red.

God, he really liked you, didn’t he?

“Thank you for coming,” you tell him with a smile. Minho notices the quiet music playing inside the house, the simple decorations, and the cake on top of the kitchen counter. He mentally sighs in relief. This truly wasn’t anything like a big party. “You’re wearing your glasses again,” you point out as Minho walks inside and removes his shoes. He subconsciously reaches his left hand to touch his wire-rimmed glasses that sit on his nose bridge. He grimaces and curses at his friend for making him stay later than he was supposed to today.

“I had no time to go home and change,” He apologizes, fingers now toying with the stupid bow on top of the box. “I usually wear contacts, but they make my eyes dry if I stare at the computer for too long, so I just… wear my glasses at work…” Minho trails off, suddenly feeling stupid, his eyes looking anywhere but toward you.

You chuckle, lightly touching his glasses for a second before moving away again. “You always come to the coffee shop wearing them, and I think you look really good,” you assured him. His eyes quickly met yours, only for you to advert your gaze this time. “You should wear them more often.”

Minho only hums, lightly nodding his head. He feels stupid all over again as the image of himself throwing his contact lenses down the drain crosses his mind.

Clearing his throat, he finally hands you your gift. You giggle at the mismatched wrapping paper and poor excuse of a bow, which makes Minho let out a chuckle and murmur an apology. You open the box, and your eyes light up when you spot the stuffed bunny you have been raving about since you two met. It was the only animal missing from your collection, but you couldn’t find the right time to save up money to buy it. Minho didn’t need to ask if you liked it as he watched your smile grow bigger as you looked at the brown bunny.

“Come, I gotta put him in my bed now,” you beamed and took Minho’s hand in yours, leading him to the living room. There, five people sat on the couch and on the floor. Minho furrows his brows as he takes in a head of light brown hair covered by a familiar beanie. “These are my friends. Eunha’s the girl with short hair on the floor, and Soojung’s the one with blonde hair next to her. They’re also my roommates,” You point at them as you speak. “That’s Jisung sitting next to Soojung; he’s also her boyfriend. And then Hyunjin, with the long hair, sitting next to Chan on the couch. Everyone, this is Minho from my Japanese class.”

With that, you pad off to your room with your bunny in tow. As Chan finally turns to look at Minho, his shocked expression mirrors his. They stare at each other for a while before Chan finally breaks the silence.

“What the fuck, that’s my co-worker.”

Minho narrows his eyes. “So this is why you had to leave an hour earlier today?”

As you come out of your room, you chuckle. “Chan is your co-worker?” You ask Minho, “I can’t believe this. He’s been our friend for longer than I’ve known you. He came like a package deal when Jisung began dating Soojung.”

“Damn, dude, you hate me so much you never talked about me to your friend?” Chan gasped, a hand over his heart. “I’m hurt.”

Minho rolls his eyes but is unable to stop a small grin from forming on his lips as the entire living room erupts in laughter. “Of course I talked about you. I talked about you and Seungmin all the time. It’s just I…” Minho shifts on his feet, shrugging. “I never said your names.”

More laughter seeps out of the group of people, including Chan, and Minho finds himself laughing along this time, shaking his head at his own stupidity.

He sits beside Chan on the couch while Hyunjin heads to the kitchen with you. He quickly asks him how he came to be friends with you in the first place. Chan explains that he’s been in a class with Jisung for almost two years, and the boy had always pestered him about ‘old people’ needing to hang out with people their age. That’s how he ended up meeting Soojung as soon as she became Jisung’s girlfriend. You and Eunha were an inevitable addition, seeing as you were not only roommates but also great friends.

You offer Minho a beer, which he declines. As much as he wanted to, no beer was worth having to take the bus back home. He silently sips his cola as he watches your group of friends chat. You end up sitting beside him on the couch, your friend Hyunjin to your right.

Minho finds that he missed getting together with people like this and didn’t even realize it. His only friends were left behind back at home, and although they were less than an hour away by bus, their busy lives prevented them from meeting in person. Minho’s favorite memories from his teenage years were having his friends over and just doing nothing for hours, talking about stupid shit until their stomachs hurt from laughing. Eating takeout on the couch with Chan and Seungmin after work came close, but they were always too tired and too stressed to entertain the idea of making jokes. Those were times when Minho realized he had really become an adult.

Jisung’s loud voice suddenly booms through the living room and startles an already drunk-looking Eunha, who murmurs something about the younger boy giving her a heart attack one day.

“I’m bored,” he grumbles, draping his body over Soojung. “Let’s play spin the bottle.”

Soojung rolls her eyes at him, flicking his forehead. “Are you a teenager?”

Jisung pouts, sitting up straight once more. “We’re in university. University students play this fucking game all the time,” he states matter-of-factly. “Don’t make me regret falling for an older woman.”

“Jisung, I’m only three years older than you, I’m not—”

“Don’t make me call you noona.”

Soojung inhales deeply before turning to face the people sitting on the couch, placing one of the empty beer bottles scattered around her feet on top of the coffee table. “Let’s play spin the bottle. But let’s do dares instead of kissing, that’s too boring.”

Jisung beams, cuddling close to her like a needy child. Minho chuckles at the sight.

Eunha scoots closer to the couple so the group is seated in a circle around the coffee table, half of them on the couch and half on the floor. Minho never had the chance to play spin the bottle, which seemed to be such a staple game of one’s teenage years. By the time his friends were off sneaking into clubs and drinking behind their parents’ backs, he was already in a committed relationship and well aware of the fact that he didn’t enjoy parties.

It seems silly, but he’s glad he won’t live past his youth without experiencing such a trivial thing.

Soojung spins the bottle, and the neck stops facing Chan while the bottom faces Jisung.

“Take your shirt off,” Jisung waves a finger at Chan, who looks somewhat disoriented. Minho chuckles under his breath just as you do the same. You two face each other and let out a hearty laugh, your arm coming to rest on his bicep before retrieving back to your lap faster than Minho hoped it would.

Soojung squishes Jisung’s cheeks and places a small kiss on his lips. “You’re such a fucking chaotic bisexual,” she giggles, “Y’know, Chan, Jisung has had the biggest crush on you since you two first met.”

Chan shakes his head with a stifled laugh and proceeds to remove his shirt, neatly placing it on his lap.

Jisung is next to spin the bottle, this time landing on Soojung, who you dare to show her most embarrassing text. After showing the group a string of texts showing raunchy screenshots of a manhwa she’d been reading at that time, all sent to one of her class group chats which included some professors, she lets out a heavy sigh and orders Eunha to spin the bottle before any questions can be asked.

This time, the neck faces you while the bottom faces Eunha herself. With a smile, the short-haired girl dares you to kiss Minho.

He feels his smile drop at the very second the words leave her lips. This was not what he had in mind for tonight.

“What?” You sputter, “Why?”

Eunha shrugs, adjusting herself so she’s seated upright and staring right at you. “Well, he’s the only one here who would be actually fun to see you kiss. Jisung and Soojung are okay with each other hooking up with other people, so that’s no fun,” she explains, using her fingers to list her reasons, “I’m not into girls, so that’s no fun for me. Hyunjin is too obvious. We all already know Chan, so it would also be boring. Minho is like fresh meat. That is fun.”

Minho’s brain begins finding a suitable excuse for why you two can’t kiss, because he’s certain you have no interest in doing it. Not only are you friends, but your reaction didn’t exactly exude excitement at the prospect of kissing him. Just as he’s ready to lie through his teeth, you turn to him and place your hand on his shoulder, a touch so soft he’s barely able to feel it through the fabric of his shirt.

“Is this okay with you?” You ask him, the tone of your voice so sweet Minho feels like it melts his every thought until his brain is nothing but a sugary pool filled with only you. So he nods because god, yes, this is okay with him.

You gingerly place your right hand on his cheek, bringing your faces closer until your lips press together. The whirlpool inside his chest spins fast, like a vortex dragging every sense of his body toward you and only you.

You remain still for a few seconds, Minho’s eyes opening slightly to search for any sign of regret on your face. Before he can even properly look at you, your lips begin to move against his — gently and carefully, like you’re not sure if this is what he wants. Minho deepens the kiss and hesitates three times before committing to placing his left hand on your waist. The giggles around the two of you nothing but a muffled murmur to him. He presses another kiss to your lips, his body shifting until he is all but caging you against the back of the couch. But just as he swipes his tongue across your bottom lip, you push him back with a smile, Minho chasing after your lips.

He blinks a couple of times, eyes zoning into your smudged red lipstick. He subconsciously bites his own bottom lip, wondering if any of the color transferred to him. The surrounding murmurs bring Minho back to the moment this time, awkwardly clearing his throat before lifting himself off of you and sitting upright on the couch. He tunes out every comment regarding the kiss to the best of his abilities, focusing his energy on slowing down his heart rate. When he catches you giggling while looking at him, your arm touching his bicep yet again, he nods, grabbing his cola bottle from the floor and taking a sip.

Minho can’t remember the last time kissing someone got him so worked up. He entered a long-term relationship at such a young age that he’s only now realizing how unaccustomed he is to kissing someone new, to the rush that comes with having your lips pressing against the ones of someone you like. It was exhilarating and a bit terrifying all at the same time. He was awkward, unsure where to put his hands, uncertain if you were enjoying yourself. He was also greedy, wanting the moment to last for much longer than it had.

This had cemented the fact that he does, in fact, really like you.

After kissing you, the whirlpool living in his heart had now fully transformed into a tiny hurricane — with great chances of growing even bigger.

Minho only notices the game has continued upon hearing your voice complaining beside him. He watches as Soojung shrugs.

“It’s the only thing I could think of, sorry.”

“But why?” Hyunjin asks, placing his cup on the coffee table. “It’s a stupid dare.”

The blonde girl scoffs. “No, it’s not. I’ve had to basically live with you two for the past year, and it’s common knowledge how easily you get a boner for her.”

“Not true,” Hyunjin retorts, although it sounds more like a question than an affirmation.

Eunha blurts out, “You once got a boner watching her stir a cake mix.”

Hyunjin opens and closes his mouth before groaning, pulling you into his lap by the waist. You apologize to him quietly, to which Hyunjin shakes his head with a small smile.

Minho feels as if he’s intruding on something private.

You sit on Hyunjin’s knees, almost falling off his lap as you clearly try to keep some distance between the two of you. Hyunjin clicks his tongue and pulls you closer to him until your back is pressed up against his chest. He whispers something in your ear, to which you lightly slap his arm as his lips upturn into a grin.

Minho is definitely intruding on something private.

At some point, you turn so you’re sitting across Hyunjin’s lap, your body now facing Minho. He can’t help but watch with dark eyes as the younger boy’s hands wander through your body; playing with the buttons on your blouse, squeezing your thighs, and caressing your skin a little too close to the hem of your skirt. He furrows his brows as he tries to understand your relationship with Hyunjin, seeing as you’re obviously not put off by his hands on your body.

Minho is so transfixed by the sight and his racing thoughts that he only realizes the game has ended when someone taps his shoulder from behind the couch. When he looks back, Chan is holding a cigarette and motioning towards the stairs that lead to the house’s terrace.

In the chilly open space above the house, they sit on a bench behind a tall vertical planter. Minho wonders who tends to the garden as he observes the various flowers, as well as some vegetables and herbs scattered around him. The terrace is small; the garden taking up all the space, an old wooden railing that overlooks the quiet street the only other thing in his sight.

He and Chan chat about school and work, as they often do nowadays. After Chan recently broke up with his girlfriend, Minho found that his friend had become much more closed off, so the list of subjects they would talk about became minimal. Chan bites his thumb before taking a long drag of his cigarette. He chuckles when he mentions being scared of graduating next year. Minho bumps his shoulder with him, arguing that being in his situation is worse. He admits that he regrets starting university late and that being in his first year when he should already be in his third is discouraging. Chan dismisses his worries, reminding him of how Minho is often the one to fix broken codes and come up with ideas for their game whenever Seungmin gets stuck.

“A degree is just a piece of paper,” Chan says, throwing his cigarette butt at a nearby trashcan. “You’re already a fantastic programmer, Minho.”

“You’re just saying that because I saved your ass today.”

Chan shrugs. “You’ve saved my ass basically every day since we started working together.” After a beat of silence, he asks, “Why did you start uni so late, anyway? You never told me.”

Minho hums, digging his brain for a way to sum up the entire story. “It’s complicated—”

He’s interrupted by footsteps on the stairs leading to the terrace. A loud giggle echoes through the open space before you and Hyunjin step into their field of vision. The long-haired boy holds you from behind, and you two stagger toward the railing.

“Wish everyone would go home already so I could just fuck you,” Hyunjin whines as he turns your body around so you’re facing him. Minho almost chokes on nothing at those words, and Chan stifles a laugh with his hand. He curses the small space as they’re able to so clearly hear everything you’re saying.

You playfully kick Hyunjin’s shin. “Don’t say it like that, Hyune, what the fuck.”

“It’s true, though,” Hyunjin continues, pressing you against the railing. He towers over you, so the only thing Minho can see from where he’s seated is your white skirt floating in the wind behind the tall boy. “I had a stressful, terrible, awful, dreadful week. All I kept thinking about was coming over and relaxing with you.”

“See, when you put it like that, it doesn’t sound so awful.”

Hyunjin clicks his tongue. “There’s nothing awful about fucking. I know how much you like it, don’t act so coy.”

Minho watches as your hands clench around Hyunjin’s gray shirt, pulling him closer and kissing him softly, much like you had done to him a few moments before.

Minho presses his lips into a thin line. He connects every dot available to him inside his head and suddenly feels pathetic.

Hyunjin being too obvious of a choice for you to kiss, his hands all over your body, his words about fucking you, the way you kissed him like it was a habit.

If you had a boyfriend, why did you agree to kiss him?

The words swarm Minho’s brain. He vaguely recalls you and Hyunjin eventually walking out of the terrace. Chan starts a one-sided conversation about one of his classes, with Minho humming after every couple of sentences to appear like he’d been listening when his head is too busy wondering how to feel about everything.

Minho recalls Eunha walking up the stairs and shouting for the two of them to come downstairs to sing you happy birthday. He recalls Hyunjin’s hands wandering through your body throughout the song, his lips pressing small kisses on your face and lips as you smiled. He recalls feeling confused, stressed, jealous, and pathetic.

Minho is only truly back to the present moment once Chan’s voice bids him a loud goodbye, and the door slamming behind him makes his senses finally return to him. As he looks around, he notices that the only people left in the living room are Jisung, Hyunjin, and you. Beside him on the couch, Hyunjin stretches with a loud groan.

“I’m gonna take a shower. D’you have any of my clothes in your room?”

You sigh from where you’re sitting on the floor, resting against the television stand. “Of course, I do. You’re always living shit behind, you’re like our third roommate at this point.”

Hyunjin chuckles, walking over to give you a small peck on the lips before disappearing into your room. Minho gnaws on his bottom lip with a bitter smile as he realizes Hyunjin will sleep over at your house. The ugly feelings return as he remembers his thoughts about you these past few weeks when he unknowingly cultivated too big of a crush on you. Even on his way here tonight, when he had chuckled to himself at his lack of nervousness in the face of potential love.

Love.

Minho can’t help but wonder why your view of love is so negative when you’re in a relationship. And, at the same time, he doesn’t dare to think about it for too long, fully aware that his foolish affection-filled brain will come up with a myriad of reasons — all where your boyfriend is the sole culprit for your distaste — and Minho knows better than to let those thoughts linger for too long inside his mind. He knows himself all too well, knows only awful shit would come out of assuming things about your relationship; the urge to beat Hyunjin senseless for being a shitty boyfriend and making you think that way about love being the worst of them.

“I’m too drunk to go back to my dorm,” Jisung suddenly speaks, his eyes glazed over as he stares ahead. “Gonna crash here tonight, too.”

Minho takes that as his cue to leave.

You walk him outside, a small smile on your face the entire time. He feels guilty not being able to reciprocate the gesture. As you tell him goodbye, thanking him for coming, you pull him into a hug. You hadn’t hugged much since you met, and Minho foolishly wants to draw you closer to him, to feel your body pressed against his just as it was pressed against Hyunjin most of the night. But he can’t do that.

“Are you okay to walk back by yourself?” You ask him as you pull away.

Minho nods, forcing out a small smile. “My car is parked just down the block.”

“That’s why you didn’t drink!” You exclaim with a giggle, “I forget that most people our age already drive. My anxiety didn’t allow me the chance to even try and get a license, so I just accepted my fate of taking the bus.”

“I could drive you…” Minho trails off. There he goes again, being pathetic. “If I have the time… You can give me a call and I’d be happy to drive you anywhere.”

You smile at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into another embrace. Minho smiles genuinely as he buries his head in your hair.

The drive back home has Minho feeling stupid all over again as he thinks about how you’re probably in bed with Hyunjin by now. The whirlpool is back inside his chest, but it isn’t good or welcome this time. It’s agonizing and painful.

Love had never been painful. Love had never been bad.

But he had never experienced love toward someone who already loved somebody else. Although you brazenly state that you don’t believe in it, you must feel some type of love toward Hyunjin if you’re willing to be his girlfriend.

As he silently drives home, Minho finds himself agreeing with you.

Maybe love can be bad, after all.

Minho feels stupid.

This has become a constant in his life.

He had always thought of himself as a logical person. Programming had taught him that everything is predictable and fixable if you work on it hard enough. A broken code? It may take him six hours of staring at the computer to figure out it was nothing but a missing semicolon, but he will get there in the end. It was annoying and frustrating, but it was always something easily fixed.

He thought love was like that. It had always been like that with him.

Until he fell for you.

Minho was coming to terms with the fact that maybe love and programming were nothing alike. Love isn’t predictable. Loving someone who is already in love with someone else isn’t easily fixed. He can’t backspace and delete your boyfriend from the equation.

It’s been a little over six months since you two first met. Minho has consistently gone to the café you work at every day, and you two still had endless talks over text messages. You talk about everything and anything, from silly things like sharing pictures of both your growing plushie collections or your love of that particular coffee shop’s lemon cake to more serious topics like how Minho learned how to cook when he was twelve so his mom wouldn’t have to do it by herself, and now his roommates take advantage of that, or how sad you are that next year you will have to leave the house you’ve grown to love so much.

But, whether it is in person or through text, you still avoid the topic of love. You don’t ever bring up Hyunjin unless he’s part of a story you were already telling, and Minho feels his heart heavy as he slowly allows himself to imagine what it could be that led you to hate love so much.

He desperately wants to ask you, know your reasons, and make sure you’re happy with your boyfriend. But he doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries and doesn’t know how to go about it without scaring you. So he never does anything, like a coward.

Minho finds himself coming over to your sharehouse on most weekends since summer break ended. Your countless get-togethers at that house have become a hard-to-break habit. Hyunjin, Jisung, and your roommates are always assured to be there, with Chan joining whenever he isn’t overwhelmed with work or school, which was rare.

Minho had always been a hopeless romantic, always doing things for love that people repeatedly warned would result in regret. This time, it was forgoing visiting his parents and friends back home just to spend most of his summer with you. Despite not being able to pursue you in the way he truly wanted to, Minho still wanted to be your friend. You were still a fantastic person he loved to have around; that didn’t change simply because you had a boyfriend. Although he could feel a bit of his heart cracking every time he had to see you, all while knowing he couldn’t do anything about his feelings for you.

He couldn’t change your perspective of love if he weren’t allowed to love you.

In all the time he spent at your house during summer break, he ended up becoming good friends with Jisung, as you tended to stick next to Hyunjin most of the time. Minho didn’t mind it; he is your boyfriend, after all. At least, that’s what he repeats to himself every night he comes over like a mantra as he almost masochistically forces himself to watch how Hyunjin kisses your lips and caresses your skin or how you play with his hair and snuggle with him on the couch. He also endures the countless nights he’s left your house knowing all too well that Hyunjin would be spending the night with you in a way that Minho can only ever dream about.

Tonight, in particular, Hyunjin seemed to be all over you like bees on honey, buzzing around you everywhere you went, his hands never leaving your body as he pulled you closer to him every time you even slightly pulled away. Because god forbid your bodies not be touching in some way for even a split second. Before he knows it, Minho is downing his third bottle of beer of the night.

From where he’s sitting on the couch, Minho rolls his eyes as discreetly as he can while he watches Hyunjin pull you to sit on his lap on the floor as you all get ready to play a game of cards. He gnaws on his lower lip because he knows he’s being petty and borderline childish. You’re Hyunjin’s girlfriend. Of course he’s all over you, of course he wants to be close to you, of course he wants you on his lap. Minho concludes with a bitter chuckle that he is, indeed, pathetic when it comes to you.

He gulps down more of the awful-tasting cheap beer.

The night comes to a close after far too many rounds of Cards Against Humanity, with Jisung winning more than half of them. His ethics and morals fly out the window the moment the cards are handed to him, as he manages to create the most absurdly offensive phrases known to men every single time. Minho found himself groaning and yelling at the younger boy as the alcohol took over his system. He doesn’t know how much of it was simply his annoyance at Hyunjin clinging to you like a koala throughout the entire game disguised as competitiveness.

He doesn’t think he’d like to know either.

Like every night he comes over, Minho is the last person to go home. He has to call an Uber, far too buzzed to want to sit at a bus stop all alone at this time of night. He hadn’t even noticed how he kept downing his drinks until he felt the familiar buzz of inebriation wash over his body a while before the game ended. Although slamming his fist into the coffee table with a whine about how he had only been given lame cards should’ve been a sign.

As he waits outside your house by the fence, he suddenly hears the door shut behind him and your voice calling out to him. He smiles at the faint slur of your speech and the way you drag out the last syllable of his name like you always did when you were a bit drunk.

“I told you to wait for me!” You reprimand, opening the gate to stand next to him. “Look how lonely you look here all by yourself.”

Minho just shrugs with a smile, shaking his head. He did wait. He waited almost half an hour after announcing he should leave as you disappeared into your room with Hyunjin. He was still waiting, in fact, only mindlessly scrolling on his phone for the past ten minutes instead of finding a ride as he hoped you would come outside when you saw he wasn’t in the living room anymore.

You poke his shoulder, bringing his attention away from his phone to your smiling face.

“Tonight was fun, wasn’t it? Especially that last round when Hyunjin won after being tied with Jisung for the whole game,” you grinned, “Seeing Jisung make a whole damn case about how much better his card was really made my night. Think that’s the first time I’ve seen him act like a law student since I met him.”

Minho chuckles, bringing his attention back to his phone. Seeing your smile and how your eyes light up while you talk about something you like brought back the whirlpool inside his chest, which wasn’t a pleasant feeling any longer. It made him glum to think how a once beautiful feeling had turned into nothing but discomfort simply because he was lovelorn.

He hums. “You must be proud to have your boyfriend put an end to Jisung’s annoying winning streak.”

“What do you mean?”

Minho looks up from his phone, eyes wandering through your puzzled face. He furrows his brows for a second. Maybe you’re both drunker than he’d thought.

“I mean, it must’ve been nice to see Hyunjin win after Jisung basically made us all want to quit the game,” he explains, watching as your expression turns from confusion into shock before you let out a loud laugh.

Minho’s eyes widen, worried your laughter might wake up your neighbors. He gently shushes you, his arm grabbing your shoulder, but your smiling face only makes his lips stretch out into a grin. He suppresses a giggle as you catch your breath, shaking your head.

Minho smiles at you so fondly he’s certain he looks like an idiot. “What’s so funny?”

“Hyunjin isn’t my boyfriend,” you explain like it’s obvious. “We’re just friends. I thought you knew that.”

Minho only then realizes he had never once heard you refer to Hyunjin as a boyfriend, nor had any of the people around you. But his assumptions weren’t so ill-judged, either. You two acted like a couple. It wasn’t so absurd to assume that you were one.

He finds himself staring at your amused face for a few seconds before forcing himself to turn his attention back to his phone.

You acted like a couple, but you were just friends. Minho groaned mentally.

“So, you’re like friends with benefits?”

“Yeah… I don’t particularly believe in love anymore, Minho. I thought you knew that from our talk a while ago,” You chuckle, shifting on your feet. “Hyunjin is one of my best friends. We just hook up ‘cause it’s convenient.”

Minho hums, his fingers ghosting over his phone screen. “Sounds like you’re running away from love.”

He blinks a couple of times as he takes in his own words. He would have never said such a thing if it hadn’t been for the liquid courage flowing through his veins.

You shrug, moving to sit on the white bench just outside the house. “Well, yeah, that is what I’m doing. Love hasn’t been kind to me at all. I have no interest in going after it, only to be hurt again. It’s a movie I’ve watched before and I hated the ending every time.”

Minho bites the inside of his cheek, finally clicking the button to find a ride, his thumb pressing on his phone screen more forcefully than he intended. He felt angry. You didn’t deserve to settle for a friend with benefits due to convenience. Had you wanted to be in that situation, it was your every right to do so, but you were in it out of fear of being hurt.

He felt sad. He wished you didn’t equate your past experiences with love to everything it could be. Bad experiences in love were possible for everyone — even for him, who used to believe unwaveringly that love could never be hurtful — but that didn’t mean it was all there was to it. Minho desperately wanted to show you that. The good side of love, the side that made him put it above everything else in his life on so many occasions, the side that made him crave it even now when it hurt more than it felt good.

And, strangely, Minho felt relieved. It was a small percentage of the chart of current emotions he was experiencing, but prevalent nonetheless. He would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that he felt happy Hyunjin wasn’t your boyfriend and, most importantly, that you weren’t stuck in an unhappy or toxic relationship, as he had so often feared.

His ride arrives, and he’s overcome with a wave of courage. Minho would much rather live with regret than with a constant ‘what if’.

Shoving his phone inside his pocket, he offers his hand to you, who looks up at him curiously from where you’re sitting on the bench before taking his hand. Minho pulls you to your feet and hugs you. With his hand on your waist, he pulls your body closer to him, finally holding you tightly the way he’s always wanted to do. He presses a kiss to your head, bringing his lips to your ear and whispering, “I’m gonna change your mind.”

He feels your body shake with a chuckle, but he only tightens his hold on you.

“What?”

“About love, I’m gonna change your mind,” He answers matter-of-factly, “You deserve to feel love without being afraid.”

Minho pulls back from the embrace just enough to see your face, and he’s surprised to find you smiling up at him. He smiles back.

“I will change your mind.”

Minho had just dropped you off at your house, ready to drive around aimlessly until he absolutely had to go back to his dorm, when Seungmin texted him.

Kim Seungmin: hey my sister’s engagement dinner is tonight Kim Seungmin: and i might have fucked up something in the code i was working on so now there’s a chance that you fish 100 rare fish at once 🤪 Kim Seungmin: pls pls do me a solid and fix it before chan sees it and kills me? Kim Seungmin: love you hyung 💚

Minho initially groaned at the messages, thinking of the many ways in which he could murder Seungmin and get away with it. But, ultimately, he didn’t want to go back to his dorm anyway, so he gladly turned his car around. If he was lucky, this would take hours and he would have a valid excuse to crash in Chan’s cramped living room.

He punches the code to the front door and his friend greets him with a puzzled expression.

“I forgot to do the, uh, troubleshooting for this week,” Minho blurts out. It’s the first lie he can come up with, and he hopes it’s convincing enough. Chan nods slowly. Seungmin might have saved him from having to endure his roommates on a Saturday night, but he still owes him.

“It’s all good,” Chan says with a sigh, “I’m most likely gonna pull an all-nighter designing these new characters. Anyway, how did you waste your time today?”

Minho has been taking you on what he likes to call Subtle Dates for a month now.

Chan affectionately calls them Waste of Time Dates.

Minho rolls his eyes, sitting down on his own desk. “We went to Han River and walked around till sundown, then watched the Banpo Bridge water show.”

Days like today were rare, so Minho was happy. Most weekends, it seemed as if the whole world was conspiring against anything he planned with you.

“Oh, how romantic of you,” Chan gasps, feigning amazement. “Did you at least kiss her this time?”

“You know I can’t just kiss her like that. I know she’d freak out if I tried to do anything romantic with her,” Minho taps his fingers on his desk, knowing he sounds ridiculous. But he has a plan. He just hopes this plan actually works out soon. “I don’t mind being patient.”

He hears Chan scoff. “So, you took her on another one-sided date and then drove her home so Hyunjin can fuck her?”

Minho’s fingers stop tapping on his desk, his hand coming down to slam on it before he can stop himself. He lets out a heavy sigh, and Chan mumbles an apology. But, the truth is, he knows his friend is right. Just last weekend, Minho dropped you off straight into Hyunjin’s arms, the younger boy waiting for you to come back in front of your house.

And Hyunjin wasn’t the only inconvenience that rendered it almost impossible for the two of you to spend time together. Minho had to cut most of your dates short due to Chan calling him about something urgent that only he could fix at work, or you canceled altogether because your roommate was upset and you didn’t have the heart to leave her alone like that. There were also times when Minho was too tired to even go out at all, like on the day of his birthday, which resulted in you coming over to Chan’s apartment and eating cheap takeout food with him and his two friends.

Minho found himself dealing with countless bumps in the road when it came to finding a way into your heart.

“I didn’t mean to say it like that,” Chan says hesitantly, “You clearly like her a lot.”

Minho repeatedly opens and closes the code he’s supposed to fix. He sighs. “I like her more than a lot, and I don’t even know when that happened.”

“I don’t want to see you get hurt,” His friend explains, his face disappearing behind his own computer screen. “I just can’t see what will change if you go on dates with her when she doesn’t even know they’re dates and if she’s just gonna go home and have sex with someone else. I don’t get it. What difference does it make?”

He can hear Chan scoffing, although he tries to disguise it by clearing his throat. Minho shakes his head.

“It makes all the difference because that’s not love. I wanna show her what love is, and that it isn’t always bad. I promised her that I would.”

Chan sighs, sliding his chair toward the mini-fridge by the couch. “Agree to disagree?” He asks, grabbing a bottle of water and tossing it in Minho’s direction. He grabs it mid-air, just before it hits him in the face, and clicks his tongue.

“Agree to disagree.”

Minho plugs his headphones into the computer, drowning out the noise of Chan’s pen sliding across his iPad with his brown noise playlist. But he can’t drown out the obstinate thought ringing inside his head, screaming at him that Chan is right.

Taking you out on dates — which you don’t even know are dates — doesn’t really make a difference if you’re just going to go back to your convenience with Hyunjin at the end of the day. If you think you’re just friends going out together, and you go back home at night to the comfort of sex without the love you’ve been running away from for so long, what Minho is doing truly is useless.

It’s just like when he argues with Seungmin through their codes, screaming at the younger boy in all caps about something that’s broken, even though he knows he’s going to be the one who will end up having to fix it.

Minho’s fingers come to a halt on the keyboard.

Closing his work, he opens up Google and finds the first flight he can to Japan. Almost as if he’s on autopilot, and his brain is completely shut off. He books the flight and the cheapest hotel he can find, using almost all the money he’s saved up to move out of his hell of a dorm. It might be the most idiotic thing he has ever done in his life, but he’s so in love it hurts him. And he loves love, and love with you — the thought of that alone has his heart beating at his throat. He doesn’t want to keep on with these futile attempts at trying to make you see that love is good and that, maybe, love can be good with him.

The truth is, he feels scared. Maybe even more scared than you do. He is terrified of knowing the answer, of finding out that maybe he could change your mind about love but that it would simply lead you to someone else’s arms and he would have to endure the pain of unrequited love until it inevitably faded away with time.

Minho would gladly live with that pain if it meant you were happy.

But he needed to know.

He adjusted his glasses — a childhood nervous habit that returned after he started wearing them more often since you complimented him months ago — and retrieved his phone from his backpack.

He typed and deleted more times than he’d like to admit.

Me: Hey, it’s late sorry Me: Just wanted to know if you’d be up for a trip to Japan? Me: In two weeks Me: For study purposes Me: We’d finally have the chance to use what we learned in class lol Me: Chan was supposed to go with me but he has a family thing so he can’t anymore Me: Everything’s already paid for and he said he doesn’t mind if you go in his place Me: Lmk what you think

Minho’s fingers typed as his brain came up with excuses and lies, sending more messages than he needed to. He couldn’t tell you he booked a whole damn trip with you just to see if maybe, possibly, you have feelings for him too.

He all but throws his phone across his table after turning on Do Not Disturb. He’ll need to muster up the courage before reading your answer, and having his phone buzz for anything that wasn’t your reply would just be torturous. He felt stupid, would feel even more so if you turned down his invitation. He almost doesn’t want you to answer, wants to pretend he never even sent anything.

Because it was stupid.

But love is stupid, and he is in love.

Worst-case scenario, he’s stuck with Chan in Japan for a weekend while he laughs at him.

Best-case scenario, he spends a weekend with you in Japan. No letting you go back to another man at the end of the day, no more hiding that he is taking you out on dates, no more distractions, no more inconveniences of your daily lives.

Minho opens the code he was working on again, quickly typing out:

// NOTE: Minho will fix this.

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astralis-ortus · 1 month

Text

love, am i home?

✱ bestfriend!bc × gn!reader

— how can you tell it's not simply an infatuation?

w.count → 0.6k genre → angst, one-sided love warnings → minor cussing, mention of alcohol but no described consumption a.n → honestly i don't even know what i wrote i am feeling feelings soooo yeah! also, there's a few mentions of bambam as the home owner lol ⋆ see masterlist

“do you reckon i’ll fall in love someday?’

chan’s odd, unprovoked question nearly made you choke on the strawberry-lychee juice you were trying so hard to savor. worse, your heart also took a hit from it—which, frankly, you should have been preparing yourself for from the day you realized that your hiking heart bpm whenever chan was sitting a little too close was not exactly a normal reaction between friends.

“yeah,” you barely managed to quip a reply, setting your half-empty paper cup on the coffee table across the tan leather couch before chan could send another unwarranted hit on your poor heart. “i mean, didn’t you have a few relationships before?”

well fuck—now he’s going to elaborate, isn’t he. good job, dumbass.

sometimes you wonder why you’re trying so hard to be a good friend when you do realize it will only further tighten the chains wrapped around your chest. does bambam have some alcohol in the fridge? also, where the fuck is he?

“fair point,” a long sigh escaped his lungs as chan fully leaned onto bambam’s ridiculously large sofa, eyes tracing whatever interesting shape he could find on the ceiling of their still-missing friend’s apartment, “but i wonder if those feelings were actually… love, you know? not merely infatuation?”

“i don’t, actually,” you playfully snickered, hoping the faint smile on your lips would help in numbing the dull ache spreading on your chest. “i mean, as far as my experience goes, i think it has always been love for me.”

“and how does that feel?”

“how?” the faint urgency in his voice pulled your line of gaze towards chan—unexpectedly meeting his pair of curious brown eyes, and you sighed. are you really going to say it?

you were preparing a joke, really. deflecting, avoiding his question, all that thing.

you really were.

and you know, with every part of your bones, you’re probably going to regret this.

“uh, well, it feels like…”

the butterflies when i see your name lit up my phone screen.

the odd twist in the pit of my stomach when i hear you talk about that new friend you made and how you thought they were beautiful.

the way my lips followed yours into a smile when you excitedly told me about a new song idea and how spring flooded my chest when you said it’s our little secret.

the sudden void when you told me you asked that new friend of yours to go out for dinner, and how my heart went numb when you brightly exclaimed that it would technically count as a first date.

an excruciatingly long roller coaster of emotions,

an endless hike under the scorching summer sun,

a long night staring at where the waves breaks,

and yet…

“it was home.”

“…home?”

“yeah,” you shrugged, fingers hiding inside the sleeves of your hoodie while you pull your knees closer to your chest, “home.”

“it’s everything that is good, everything that’s not quite there, and yet you can’t help but find yourself longing for every piece of it. you accept that it’s not going to be perfect and never will be, and yet you’re still willing to continuously nurture that feeling because, well, you love them, and even if it eventually didn’t work out… you’d still think it’s worth the effort to try.”

you don’t know what the silence between you now meant.

you don’t know, and probably would never want to find out.

you’d hate to know who he thinks about when he opens his mouth,

and you’d forever thank bambam for his impeccable timing with bags full of thai foods in his hand.

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

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mandowifey · 1 year

Text

Deprication

Miguel O'hara x Reader

Miguel Masterlist

Drabble

Warnings: NSFW (reader is female and 18+), dub con/non con, captive reader, My miguel is a bad boy, not a good boy, aggressive miguel, he's a nasty lil mans, biting, blood, mentions of force, implications of ownership.

Had to get this out of my system. I did not proof read this!

× × ×

"When has running ever worked for you?"

The lab floor felt cold against your skin but compared nothing to the ice in Miguel's eyes. He stood over you, claws curled and red eyes searching. You hardly recognized him like this, feral and borderline beastial. With a groan, you shift in your position and attempt to sit up, ready to begin your apology when something sticky locked your wrist to the ground.

"Answer me."

You were trapped now. Even with one hand free, you'd never be able to claw the webbing off your skin without his help. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you force a timid smile and look up towards O'hara's brooding form. "I-im sorry, I'm not sure what came over me. Just was being a little spontaneous." You laugh, but your nerves are shot and the unease is clear as day in your expression.

Miguel wasn't buying it, but he never did.

He dropped effortlessly into a crouch before you and shook his head. "We talked about this, kiddo. You don't try to run, and you don't get punished." Your breath draws in your throat as his large hands push your legs apart while he crawls between them. Miguel nudges your dress up your hips as his suit retracts over his pelvis.

"Im sorry," you whisper, tugging at your arm and watching him carefully.

"No, you aren't." The red dims from his eyes, but the callous expression remained. "Not yet."

Swiftly cutting your panties open with his claws, Miguel shifts himself into position against you. While you cannot see his cock, you knew how big he was from memory. The man drops his head to your neck and breathes in your scent, listening to you whine as he nudges your entrance. "Better relax." He licks your throat and nips. "Or don't. Doesn't matter to me."

The pain is searing. He bottoms out on the first thrust, filling your cunt excruciatingly full. Your head tilts as you scream, heat blossoming across your cheeks as he forces you to stretch around him. Your cry is cut short as his palm covers your mouth, muffling you as he sets a brutal and focused pace. Each thrust causing your smaller frame to bounce under him.

"There you go, just like that. Knew you'd come around." His voice grunts in your ear, his hips impacting yours bruisingly hard. Your free hand flails, grasping at him where it can and sinking your nails into the meat of his bicep. All you can do is take his cock while he used you like he owned you. Miguel gives a groan, smitten by how tightly you squeeze around him and how warm you are. He fucks with purpose, driving his cock with precision and knocking your cervix.

You can only scream against his hand, your pelvis taking the brunt of his assault. Stars pop behind your eyes, and in your dismay, you feel yourself rapidly rising. Miguel could smell it and shifted to sink his claws into the floor and begin rutting into you harder. "Yeah? Gonna cum for me?" He snaps his hips to yours, plowing your cunt relentlessly hard. As Spiderman, he had endless stamina and strength to use against you.

As your orgasm rose, you hit and pushed at his arm, trying to fight it. Even while he bullied your cervix, your eyes rolled back, and your body arched. You were chasing it now, your legs opening wide and hips angling to help him glide unhindered inside of you. It only took two more thrusts before you came crashing down. Clenching around him, you shudder as you burst, sobbing against his hand while you cum.

Miguel rocks harder, fucking you through it before he hunkered down and shoved as far as he could go. Snarling like an animal, his eyes close, and his mouth latches to your shoulder. Pain blooms as he breaks your skin with his fangs. He ruts twice more before stilling and shuddering. You can feel his massive cock throb within you, followed by the heavy, hot spurts of his cum drenching your innards.

Removing his hand from your mouth, he moves and kisses you hard. Blood smears between your lips, and he dips his tongue between your teeth, groaning as he keeps you two connected. He remains on you like that for a few moments before finally lifting his head and sitting up. Relaxed back on his knees, Miguel watches as he slowly slides out of you, smirking when you twitch and whine.

"Next time you run, I won't be so gentle."

#miguel o'hara #spiderman into the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #oscar isaac #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara headcanons #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel ohara #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse #miguel spiderman #spider man 2099 #spiderman x reader #spider man x reader

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okaylikesmomo · 9 months

Text

Chapter 7: Paris

le sserafim smut, ~6k words, chaewon, kazuha, male reader

“This is so cute!”

“I heard you wanted to go on a date in Paris,” you chuckled. “You like it?”

“Like it? I love it!” Kazuha gushed. “How did you set this up so quickly?”

“I had to pull a few strings,” you smiled at her as you pulled her chair back.

“Wow, you must really like me,” Kazuha teased while taking a seat. “Oh my God!”

The excitement on her face as she looked at the variety of breads on the table was enough to make this whole endeavor worth it. Maybe it was your history dating idols, but you were definitely spoiled by their intense reactions.

“I think they call that bread.” you chuckled, taking a seat across from her.

“Why are there so many?”

“Because you deserve all the breads!” you laughed as you watched Kazuha gawked at the table.

“When are you going to take me to the real City of Love?”

“I think I’d get in trouble if I stole you and flew away in the middle of promo week.”

“I’d let you steal me,” she said slyly as she began buttering up a roll.

“How is it?” you asked, already knowing the answer as Kazuha physically leaned back into her chair, looking up at the roof in a state of utter satisfaction.

“It’s so good,” she moaned, her voice wavering as if she was about to spill tears over a simple bite of bread.

“Save some room, there’s a whole meal to come,” you laughed, overflowing with happiness at Kazuha’s antics.

Before you knew it, the appetizer, main course, and dessert had been served. Dinner was a mostly silent affair as Kazuha was far too busy with the food, only sparing enough time to drop a flirty one-liner here and there as she worked on finishing every bite from dishes she couldn’t even pronounce.

“Wow!” Kazuha gasped, even making the waiter smile through her excitement as they torched the sugar in front of her.

“Have you had it before?” you asked, tapping the top of your own little cup with the back of your spoon.

She shook her head excitedly before breaking the sugar layer with her spoon and giving it a taste. As usual, her reaction was excruciatingly cute as she alternated between a flurry of astonishment, shock, and content. She admired the little white ramekin with a bliss-filled expression on her face for a moment before looking up at you with wide eyes.

“How is it?” you smiled.

“There’s only one thing at this table I’d rather eat,” she moaned.

“Huh? What would you… oh,” you facepalmed, disappointed that you fell for her cheesiness.

“Have you brought Chaewon here before?” Kazuha asked with a smile, proud of herself as she took another bite.

“Not yet,” you answered, thinking back to the time when you brought Sakura here.

“I think she’d like it.”

“Yeah, maybe I’ll bring her next time.”

“Or you can just bring me again,” Kazuha giggled, scraping her spoon around the bottom of the dish.

“Are you asking me out?”

“Depends, will you take me out?”

“After tonight? Always.”

“Then let’s talk about where you’re taking me while you drive me home,” Kazuha smiled, wiping her lips with her napkin and standing up.

Despite her suggestion, you drove her back to the dorm in silence. Suddenly, Kazuha seemed to be a bit nervous, you even noticed her leg shaking slightly, but you decided not to comment on it. Once you got to the dorm, you contemplated whether or not you should come in, but your decision was made when Kazuha stopped walking two steps away from your car and looked over her shoulder expectantly.

Still, without saying any words, you walked Kazuha all the way to her room. All the other members were nowhere to be seen, the house was mostly silent. As you got to Kazuha’s door, she turned around and looked at you with slightly blushed cheeks.

“Tonight was fun,” she said softly.

“Yeah, it was,” you replied, trying to figure out what she wanted.

“Do you…” she began before stopping.

“Do I?”

Kazuha leaned forward and placed a quick kiss on your mouth before leaning back.

“Goodnight!” she shouted before hurrying into her room, closing the door behind her.

“Goodnight…”

—

“Still awake?”

She answered by cheerily patting the bed next to where she was sitting with a tablet in her lap.

“Whose fancam are you…” you began asking as you sat down and looked at the screen. “You’re watching your own fancam.”

“Yah! Stop judging me, I like to monitor myself, so what,” Chaewon complained as she turned off the screen and leaned over to place the device on her side table, the blanket lifting off her as she bent over, flashing you her bright pink underwear. “Did you have fun with Zuha?” she asked as she leaned back, cuddling into your arms.

“I did,” you mumbled as you ran your fingers through Chaewon’s short hair. “Kazuha’s great.”

“I know,” Chaewon laughed into your chest, laying her face on you. “Where is she now?”

“In her bed, I think.”

“Wow, didn’t you guys just get home? Guess you had some stamina issues tonight,” Chaewon teased. “Not that I blame you, Zuha is a hottie.”

“We didn’t.”

Chaewon lifted herself up and looked you in the face.

“I’m starting to think you don’t want to sleep with her.”

“Of course I want to,” you replied. “You said it yourself, she’s a hottie.”

“Do you not believe me when I say it’s fine?” Chaewon asked, face full of confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“No, I do,” you said, rubbing your hand against her back. “I literally just told you I want to sleep with her, would I do that if I didn’t believe you?”

“Probably,” Chaewon smirked. “You tend to gush over her a lot.”

“That’s true,” you smiled back. “She’s just so… precious.”

“Wanna give it another try tomorrow?” she asked nonchalantly while spinning in the bed and reaching for her phone.

“Why does it seem like you really want me to sleep with Kazuha?” you questioned while placing both hands on her ass, pressing into the pink panties.

“You don’t get jealous when I fool around with Kkura and Yunjin, why should I get jealous if you fool around with Zuha?” she answered without turning back around, flipping through her phone.

“So, what about that surprise?” you asked slyly as your hands squeezed and played with her supple ass. “Do you still wanna get all sore?”

“The condition for the surprise was that you actually slept with her,” Chaewon tutted, rolling onto her stomach and taking her shirt off.

“What an odd reality,” you said while climbing over her legs, straddling her lower body. “It really feels like my girlfriend is begging me to sleep with one of her friends.”

“I have… my reasons…” Chaewon grunted as you pressed down into her body.

“How’s the comeback stuff going?” you asked while working on the knots in her shoulders.

“It’s… good… busy…” she moaned, tossing her phone to the side and leaning her face into her pillow. “Lower please.”

“Not too much though, I hope?” you continued down her body, reaching around her chest to give her tits a quick grope before working her middle back.

“I can handle it,” she said before releasing a drawn out breath through her teeth. “Oh yes…”

“I know you can handle it,” you said, moving farther down her spine, pressing into her lower back.

“Ah fuck,” she cried out, arching her back slightly.

“Sorry.”

“No,” she moaned. “More.”

“So,” you continued, sliding lower on her body and working her lower back. “Why are you so fixated on me and Kazuha?”

“She’s being shy,” Chaewon grunted as your fingers explored her muscles. “I just want her to open up.”

“Open up…” you repeated, rubbing your thumbs in small circles, pressing harder.

“Yeah,” Chaewon continued. “She’s never gone all the way with me, I want her…”

Your hands paused the massage. She turned her head just a little into the pillow and tried to get you to keep going by reaching behind her. You jerked your arm away and slapped her ass, secretly admiring the jiggle while she whined until you started your massage again.

“It’s not like that,” Chaewon said, clearly smiling despite hiding her face in the pillow.

“I feel used.”

“Oh boo hoo you have to sleep with a gorgeous girl,” Chaewon laughed, turning around under you so that she was laying on her back. “What ever will you do.”

“I didn’t know this was how you actually felt,” you sighed, exaggerating your disappointment as you cupped her tits in your hands. “Turns out I’m just a tool for you to get what you want.”

“You’re not actually upset, are you?” Chaewon asked, propping herself up on her elbows slightly.

“I can’t even look at you the same way anymore,” you monologued dramatically, sliding your fingers down from her tits and rubbing her abs.

“Sweetie.”

“Even as I touch these abs, I don’t even feel Chaewon anymore, all I can think about is Kazuha.”

“Hey!” Chaewon pouted. “That’s mean.”

You leaned forward and kissed her tummy before sitting back up and smiling at her.

“Sorry, too far?”

She fell onto her back, crossing her arms, lips still pouted.

“I was just kidding,” you pleaded, leaning forward and wrapping your arms around her. “Sweetheart, no mad.”

She didn’t stop pouting until you kissed her on the lips.

“I love your body,” you whispered into her mouth before kissing her again. “It’s perfect.”

“Tomorrow,” Chaewon replied, kissing you back. “She has to - stay late - surprise - her,” she breathed between kisses.

“I better be invited when Kazuha ‘opens up’ to you,” you smirked, laying next to her.

“Alright, the truth is she asked me directly,” Chaewon confessed, turning on her side to face you.

“Asked you what?” you implored. “I know you said she found me cute, but…”

“Yes,” Chaewon answered. “I know she wants to go all the way with you, because she straight up told me.”

“Then why does she keep…” you thought aloud. “Ah, okay I think I get it.”

“See what I mean about her being shy now?” Chaewon added. “I love both of you so much, I really don’t mind if it happens as long as it stays physical.”

What if it doesn’t stay physical you thought silently.

“Also, if things work out well, it’s better for me,” Chaewon continued.

“How so?”

Her lips curled up slyly as she slipped her hand between your legs.

“Zuha and I made a deal.”

“What kind of deal?” you asked as Chaewon slipped her hand into your pants.

“I’ll tell you after you help me fulfill my end.”

“Some encouragement would help,” you suggested as she lowered your pants to your knees and began sliding under the sheets.

“What do you think I’m doing?”

“Sweetheart I’m joking, you don’t have to,” you said as she ignored you, disappearing beneath the sheets. “I know you’re tired.”

Still, she didn’t speak, her mouth instead planted itself on your cock. A symphony of sensations unfolded, amplified by the fact that you couldn’t even see her, only feel. Her warm lips enveloped your cock, gentle, tantalizing suction dancing along your sensitivity.

The wetness of her tongue created a blissful contrast of feelings as it explored every ridge and contour. The skilled caresses of Chaewon’s tongue around your cock felt divine - she knew what you liked. The pressure and rhythm of her lips were perfect, invoking a deeper sense of desire within you.

“Oh Chaewon baby that feels…” you moaned out softly. “Oh fuck…”

Her tongue, the perfect instrument to your pleasure, invoked a myriad of sensations through your body. Her talent as a dancer, the body control, the skill, it all condensed into her tongue as she expertly sent shivers up your spine. Her tongue managed to stay nimble and agile despite her lips plunging up and down your length.

“Baby…”

Waves of pleasure coursed through you, heightening the sensitivity in your cock. The gentle flicks and swirls, the occasional press against your shaft and your tip, she managed to do it all while keeping her head bobbing up and down.

Not being able to see her working her magic turned out to be the greatest travesty - one you could not accept any longer even though it enhanced the feel. You flung the sheets off the bed, revealing Chaewon’s perfect topless body. She looked up at you, never losing pace, her eyes full of pride and confidence, her mouth stretched over your cock.

It was almost embarrassing to admit you were already feeling your orgasm creeping up. All that subtle foreplay was catching up with you, and seeing Chaewon with her lips wrapped around your cock was the impetus for your climax.

“Chae chae, I’m close…” you moaned softly, earning a seductive wink from her, the nonverbal permission.

Your arousal built up, reaching the peak, turning your body into a vessel of sensations. Waves of pleasure surged through you, spreading like an electric current. The muscles in your thighs contracted, tense, stressed by the anticipation of your cock being moments away from coating the inside of Chaewon’s pretty little mouth.

Your heart began to race, breaths rapid, and your mind quickly became overwhelmed with euphoria. The pleasure suddenly culminated, focused directly into Chaewon’s mouth as that first blast of cum launched itself down her throat.

It was as if the universe paused itself for you, converging into that single, exquisite moment. Your body convulsed, pulsating as you filled her mouth with your cum. Pure bliss, ecstasy, filled your mind as the contractions flowed through you like waves.

The pleasure left you breathless, completely unable to do anything but lay there and let Chaewon suck up the final donations leaking out of your cock. It was too much, even with her licks being as delicate as possible, you shivered each time her tongue rubbed against you.

“I fucking love you,” you moaned, shutting your eyes tight, hearing one last giggle before fading to darkness.

—

The next day, after the other four members had already left the offices, you took Chaewon’s advice. You walked through the halls until you found Kazuha by herself in a small lounge, reading something on the wall while pouring herself some water.

“You’re here late,” you said as you walked up, pretending as if it was a coincidence.

Her face lit up as she turned to see you.

“Oh, hey cutie,” she purred, leaning backwards against the small countertop. “Chaewon already went back to the dorms.”

“I’m not here for Chaewon,” you said, wrapping your arms around her waist.

“So who are you here for,” she smirked, leaning closer to you.

“Uh, have you seen Sakura around?” you asked, pretending to look around.

Kazuha was visibly irked at your joke, unable to hide her annoyance.

“She’s also at the dorm,” Kazuha replied, her irritation simmering just beneath the surface.

You smirked, loving the not-so-subtle jealousy she was displaying. It felt nice flipping the tables on her from time to time, becoming the one who does the teasing for a change.

“Cool, but I’m not looking for her either,” you moved even closer. “I can’t move much closer,” you whispered, lips practically touching hers at this point.

“Say you want me,” Kazuha moaned quietly, gripping the counter until her knuckles turned white.

“I. Want. You.”

She lunged forward before the last syllable even finished leaving your mouth. You almost fell over with how much passion was behind the kiss, grabbing onto her fit body for support.

“Holy shit Kazuha,” you gasped as she held herself in front of you with the prettiest smile you could imagine. “How about we go somewhere more private before you get in trouble?”

“Yeah,” she turned around, picking her jacket up off the counter. “You can’t just be kissing me at work like that, you should know better.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you,” she said, looking back over her shoulder. “It’s like you don’t care about the rules at all.”

“I’m pretty sure-” you froze mid sentence, jaw dropping to the floor as Kazuha pulled her pants down, flashing her ass at you. “Kazuha!”

“Come on, you can drive me,” she giggled, quickly pulling her pants back up and grabbing your hand.

This girl was something else, you thought to yourself.

—

“The dorm will be so packed right now.”

“My place is empty,” you suggested. “If you’re comfortable with that.”

“You’re taking me back to your place? Isn’t that inappropriate?” Kazuha asked in her classic playfully teasing tone.

“It’s only inappropriate if you make it inappropriate.”

“I can do that,” she purred, leaning over the gear shift, looking up at you while hovering over your lap.

“That’s not exactly what I meant,” you laughed, trying to focus on the road.

“Come on,” she whined. “You still haven’t shown me that cock that Chaewon keeps talking about.”

Kazuha sat up straight, smile on her face, as a car blaring its horn flew past you.

“You’re going to get us into an accident,” you sighed, locking both hands onto the steering wheel.

“Oh I’m sorry,” she cooed. “Maybe you need to punish me.”

Focusing was impossible, Kazuha was in too much of a mood this afternoon. You tried to ignore it, but the involuntary glances you shot at her just made it so much more difficult to focus. She had her arms up over her head, tying her hair back in a ponytail, the hair tie in her mouth as she fumbled around. Her sleeveless top flaunting her bare arms without any care, her toned muscles flexing as her fingers worked around, and the smallest little bit of cleavage peeking over the low-cut neck.

“Why do you keep looking at me?” Kazuha asked nonchalantly as she took the tie out of her mouth. “Do you like what you see?”

“Yeah, love it,” you stuttered, not realizing how obvious you were being.

Kazuha reached over and slowly pulled one of your hands off the steering wheel, dragging it over to her chest. You tried to keep your eyes focused on the road, ignoring her games despite how difficult it was. As you pulled up to a red light, Kazuha moved your hand lower, placing it between her legs.

“Can you feel how wet I am?” she moaned softly.

There was a smirk plastered across her lips, one you could only see in your periphery as you started driving again. She began rubbing your hand around, using you like a toy to get herself off. Then she moved your hand towards her waistband, threatening to slide it into her pants.

“Stop stop stop, we’re here,” you yanked your hand away as you pulled up into your parking garage. “You know these windows aren’t tinted, right?”

“Yeah, and the office is full of cameras, what’s your point?”

“Holy shit you’re right,” you gasped as you put the car in park. “What got into you today?”

“Hopefully you, soon,” she answered provocatively.

“I don’t know, Chaewon was extra touchy today, and then you came and started kissing me,” she said casually while getting out of the car. “Also, relax, there weren’t any cameras there.”

She basically skipped to the elevators as you followed closely behind. At times Kazuha would remind you a lot of how Chaewon would act around you; She was just so happy and excited.

“I want to do it,” Kazuha stated as the two of you entered the elevator.

“Aren’t you a bit old to ask to push the button,” you smirked as you pressed the button to your floor.

“Not that,” she whined cutely. “Take off your pants.”

You couldn’t even respond to her audacity because the door opened right after and two other people entered the elevator. For the next few floors, Kazuha wouldn’t stop giggling, right up until they both left.

“Oh my God Kazuha,” you laughed as the elevator reached your floor.

“Which one’s yours?” she asked joyfully, running ahead of you.

“Left side, third door.”

She ran up to it and turned around, watching you walk towards her. She raised one leg up towards the roof, pressing it against the wall, showing off her flexibility as she was basically performing a standing splits.

“What are you doing?” you laughed as you inserted your key.

“Stretching,” Kazuha answered, rushing into your apartment as soon as you opened the door. She ran in, kicked her shoes off, and jumped onto your couch. “Wow, why doesn’t Chaewon just move into here, it’s so nice!”

“I’ve offered, but she likes living with you guys,” you replied as you took off your jacket and shoes. “Sorry for the mess, I haven’t really been sleeping here that much lately.”

“What mess?” Kazuha responded carelessly as she ripped her shirt off, tossing it to the floor.

“Zuha, what are you doing?”

“Huh? Nothing,” she said, faking innocence as she pulled off her sweatpants. “It’s just kinda warm in here, you don’t mind, right?”

“Right,” you said carefully, trying not to stare too much as she stripped all the way down to her underwear.

“Hey, do you mind helping me?”

“How so?” you inquired, taking a seat next to her on the couch.

“I’m cold, can you warm me up?” she asked.

“What the-”

“Please!” she whined, with that cute pout as she stretched her arms out wide.

With a shake of your head, you succumbed to her games and lay down on the couch with her, unable to contain your smile as she happily held onto you. She nestled her cheek against yours, the floral tones of her shampoo filling your senses.

The impromptu hug turned into an exploration of Kazuha’s body as she started rubbing herself all over you, making you feel around. She guided your hands around her back while she wrapped her legs around your hips, sensually grinding on you.

She began yanking at your shirt until she got what she wanted, leaving you topless on top of her. Now it was her turn to explore, her hands having fun sliding around your bare torso, wrapping around and feeling your back. She slipped them lower, starting to unbuckle your pants.

“Hold on,” you stopped her. “Are you sure?”

“I want to see you,” she whispered.

Her expression was soft, for a second it felt like she was your girlfriend. You stood up from the couch and pulled over a chair, sitting in front of her after removing your pants.

“You sure you wanna keep going?” you asked as she also sat up on the couch, facing you, both of you only wearing your underwear now.

Kazuha reached behind her back, unstrapped her bra, and let it fall into her lap before nodding at you. As she spread her legs slightly, you could see a very noticeable wet patch on her crotch, staining her gray underwear. You stuck your hips out forward slightly, leaning back in the chair, and gestured downwards.

She slid off the couch onto her knees, crawled the two steps forward and reached up with both hands. You lifted your hips, making it easier for her, and she slowly lowered your underwear. Her face was full of anticipation, finally getting her wish. Your cock sprung to life, already mostly erect, in front of the topless girl.

“I…” Kazuha choked, gazed locked on your cock.

You grabbed her by her arms and pulled her up, forcing her to look at you before you kissed her softly on the lips.

“Say you want me,” you whispered to her.

There was a brief moment of hesitation, contemplation maybe, but you were in no rush. If she was ready, then you were ready, the choice was hers.

“I want you,” she whispered back.

Her words rang through your ears over and over as you slid your hands down her body and pulled her panties down to her ankles. She stood there, her shining pussy right in front of your face, until you leaned forward in the chair and pressed your lips to it.

The wetness immediately coated your lips, satisfying the taste buds in your mouth. With how wet she was, it was clear she was ready, you were simply getting your own fix as you licked her freely. Her hands ran through your hair, quiet whimpers escaping her lips while you worked her pussy with your mouth.

Once you were satisfied and thought she was ready, you leaned back and took hold of her hands. You looked into her eyes, her flushed face a warm red as you pulled her closer until she was standing right above you, her legs straddling you. You softly tugged at her hands, encouraging her to lower herself until her wet pussy made contact with your cock.

Then you stopped. You focused on her, made sure she was actually ready, made sure she wanted this. After giving her hand a squeeze, one which she reciprocated, you simply held yourself there, waiting for her to make the next move.

Kazuha bit her lower lip, and after a few moments of just holding herself there, she lowered her body. A sharp gasp left her mouth as your tip began stretching her pussy. It took a second to adjust, but there was absolutely no rush. When she was ready to continue, she lowered herself some more, gritting her teeth as your cock filled her pussy up.

For you, the warmth of her pussy created the most exquisite pressure around your cock. A soft, pliable mold, shaped just for you as Kazuha’s intimate embrace filled your mind with sensation. A gentle gripping feeling as her pussy flipped between contracting and relaxing, even without thrusting into her, it felt phenomenal.

She lowered herself some more, taking even more of your cock, building up the excitement of her first time, her face full of vulnerability. You let her move at her own pace, you wanted this to be as comfortable as possible for her.

Every time she moved lower, a cascade of pleasure ran through your body, the intimacy and desire coursing through your veins.

“It’s tight,” she moaned, voice full of strain.

“Breath,” you whispered back, keeping the pressure up on her limp fingers. “Take your time.”

Kazuha closed her eyes and started breathing through her mouth, her breath hitting your face. The way her breath hit your skin could put a masseuse to shame, and she didn't even know it. She had no idea how much she turned you on - or maybe she did.

“You’re doing great,” you encouraged her.

Her face was still scrunched up, adjusting to the new sensation, but a hint of pride snuck through. Slowly, she made that last little push, sitting on your thighs, taking your entire cock. Her lifeless fingers regained strength, and she began squeezing your hands painfully hard.

That wasn’t an issue for you, the tightness of her grip was still nothing compared to the tightness of her pussy around your cock. The warmth, the wetness, she was perfect. After a few seconds, she began to slowly move up and down, getting truly accustomed to your size.

“Ah,” she moaned softly as she bounced slowly. “Yes…”

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” you moaned back, your words encouraging her to move faster.

She rode your cock for a bit longer, eventually picking up the pace quite a bit. Her pussy was stretching out, getting extremely comfortable on your cock. She even began to build up a slight sweat, her shining little tits bouncing up and down in front of your face.

The two of you felt like you had a connection. Some sort of bond, as if you were both born specifically to fuck each other one day. All that sexual tension released, flooding out of your bodies as you finally got to fuck Kazuha’s tight pussy - something you’ve thought about for a long time.

Her hands released yours, and she placed them on your shoulders for support as she fucked herself on you. It felt so good, her body felt as amazing as it looked. Her breathing began to elevate, and her hips started moving in different directions.

Maybe it was her experience as a dancer, but a girl as pretty as Kazuha had no right knowing how to move like this during her first time. Why did it feel like she just had everything? A true natural talent. It made no sense, was this girl just perfect in every sense? All her teasing, all her flirting, everything that led up to this one moment suddenly flooded through your body.

“Please, fuck me,” she cried out, voice cracking, pitch higher than either of you expected.

Who were you to deny such a request? You grabbed onto her hips, her own hands pressing slightly harder into your shoulders as she stopped moving up and down, bracing for what was to come. With her body in your grip, you started to thrust your hips upwards.

You started to really fuck Kazuha.

Apparently that did it for her as the slapping noises filled your living room, she began to shout profanities of pleasure, even switching to Japanese halfway through her slurry of moans. It didn’t matter that you had no idea what the words meant, you knew exactly what she was saying. Your cock couldn’t handle it much longer, this was the first time you’ve fucked someone to the point of reverting them to their native tongue, and it felt better than you could have ever anticipated.

The girl who didn’t sweat was glistening. You couldn’t control your hands as they explored every inch of Kazuha’s skin that they could reach: Her back, her ass, her hips, anything you could touch, you touched. Without ever letting up, your hips kept pumping away, her moans very clearly screaming how much she loved your cock inside her as you pulled her into your body.

“You’re so fucking hot,” you groaned into her neck, licking up a few beads of sweat. Your tongue roamed all over her soft and tender body. “I’m going to fucking cum,” you whispered into her sternum before moving your mouth lower. “You’re going to make me cum.”

For just a second, you paused your thrusting to give yourself the chance to keep going - you didn’t want this to end yet. Kazuha’s body, however, didn’t get any break. With your cock still balls deep in her pussy as it trembled, you forcefully cupped one of her tits in your hand before shoving it into your mouth.

“Ah!” she moaned as your lips made contact with her nipple. “Keep going.”

Your body complied - your hips began to thrust again. This time you started up slowly, feeling sharp waves fly through your body each time your cock pumped into her. Each thrust felt like it could be the last, the one that pushes you over the edge, yet by some miracle you were holding on.

Why you couldn’t keep going slowly, you had no idea, but your hips had a mind of their own. Kazuha’s pussy refused to be gently taken - realistically it was your cock that was being uncooperative. It didn’t matter. What did matter was Kazuha’s pleasure becoming your pleasure. Her moans, her cries, they fueled you.

“Don’t stop,” she moaned out quietly as if it was a great struggle to speak. One of her hands found the back of your head, enticing you to keep your mouth pressed to her chest. “Don’t stop.”

There was no desire to stop, none at all. Literally none. You wanted to fuck Kazuha’s pussy all night if you could, if she would let you, if your body would let you, but you knew your time was coming soon. An impossible dilemma that you simply could not solve. You released her nipple and ran your tongue across her chest, trying to distract yourself, but that salty tang of her skin just brought you that much closer.

Your best efforts were nowhere near enough. Kazuha’s body, that perfectly sculpted body of a goddess, took over. It was too intense, the sharp fire coursing through the nerves in your cock, half of your body shaking as you fucked her with the last little bit of whatever you had left in you.

“Oh fuck!” Kazuha screamed directly into your ear.

Her loudest of the evening, and it was just as soon as your cock began unloading. Could she feel it? You certainly could feel every drop of warmth fly up into her body. Filling her pussy, fighting against gravity until it failed and spilled out of her tight little pussy. The warmth began spilling onto your thighs, the wet combination of Kazuha and your cum was the last thing you felt before your mind blanked out entirely.

It was a mess (mess mess mess), yet you refused to let go of her. You needed her body, you were holding onto her for dear life, and she was holding back just as hard. Warm and covered in sweat, her body was still trembling, you could feel waves flowing through her. She must have finished at the same time as you, a rare coincidence that you failed to even notice in the moment.

The only sounds in the entire room were Kazuha’s deep breaths and the kisses you were planting all over her tits. You were just filled with affection for this girl, all of a sudden she became that much more special to you. All the wait, all the delays, none of that mattered anymore. Your relationship with Kazuha would never be the same after this night, and you didn’t care.

“That was…” Kazuha sighed, her grip on your body relaxing but not letting go.

“Yeah,” you quickly replied before continuing the barrage of kisses on her chest.

“Don’t,” she protested, her voice cuter than normal. “I’m all sweaty.”

You kissed her one last time before looking up at her. Her face was completely flushed, slightly dewy from sweat, her lips pursed, her beautifully healthy hair sticking to her forehead. You ignored her embarrassment, she had nothing to be shy about, and started moving towards her mouth. Right before your lips connected, she licked her lips.

This one was special. The more you kissed her, the more she kissed you, it was completely balanced. Aggressive, maybe, but still incredibly tender. Your hands slid up and down her hips, fingers rubbing against the greatest abs in the industry, while her hands remained fixed on your face as she held you.

Time didn’t exist anymore, the two of you kissed for far too long, but neither of you wanted to stop. Eventually your hands made their way down to her ass, gently massaging it, squeezing the firm yet soft cheeks. How was her body so perfect? It was all you could think about.

Whenever you tried to pull back to stop the kiss, she pushed forward harder, refusing to let you go. It was easier to just let it happen, kiss her forever, as long as she wanted. Just when it felt like the kiss would actually last forever, the two of you slowly separated.

With your help, she carefully stood up off your lap. As she pulled herself off your cock, clearly still extremely sensitive, a rush of cum spilled out, adding to the mess on your thighs. She stood in front of you, letting it drip out of her, using your shoulders for support to keep herself upright.

With one hand, using the utmost care, you slowly began rubbing her between her legs. The sharp inhale through her teeth, the hard - subconscious - squeeze of your shoulder, she couldn’t hide how sensitive her body was.

“Are you alright?” you whispered as you lightly brushed your fingers against her most sensitive area.

“It’s…” she moaned, looking at you with her brows furrowed.

You reached forward and picked her up from her thighs, being as gentle as possible as you carried her over to your bed and placed her down. She looked so unbelievably adorable, laying there completely nude, her hair splayed across the bed.

“Can I stay?” she asked hesitantly.

“Of course you can, I’ll drop you off in the morning.”

A single nod, as if she was still embarrassed, is all she answered with. You couldn’t leave her now, not after that, so you lay down next to her on the bed, not caring about the sheets being soiled by the aftermath of your session.

Kazuha turned to her side, her arm going straight up towards the head of the bed with the side of her face resting against her bicep, and stared lovingly into your eyes.“Thanks for tonight,” she whispered, a light smile blessing her face.

---

A/N:

Finally, it's here, I'm sorry for dangling this in front of your faces for so long. I really really really hope it lived up to the expectations, I didn't mean to hype it up so much!

Just a quick life update, I'm going to be incredibly busy going forward. No, I'm not quitting, I'll still write in my free time. I just wanted to let you guys know there might be some longer breaks between my uploads. This also means there might be more typos/small mistakes, I'll try to catch them all, but please be understanding!

Regarding the story, please do let me know if you guys are still enjoying it! I'll be honest, I quite enjoyed this chapter myself, it was a fun write. I don't know if I quite did it justice, but there's plenty of time for improvement; This is only Chapter 7!

#kpop smut #smut #fanfiction #kpop fanfic #male reader #le sserafim smut #le sserafim #chaewon #chaewon smut #kazuha #kazuha smut

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satorubi · 2 years

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• — ♱ synopsis — toji teaches you to abide by his rules.

• — ♱ content warning - pwp, minors dni! meandom! toji but he softens up later on, f! reader, sub! reader, masturbation, fingering, doggystyle, missionary, overstimulation, breeding, squirting, daddy kink, use of pet names such as ꒰ slut, sweetheart, angel ꒱ toji has a chest tat i don’t make the rules. toji also has somewhat of a humiliation kink???

• — ♱ notes - i had to write about ceo toji again bc he’s been clouding my brain. this one is a long one, i loved this idea :p thank u for reading, ily, & reblogs and interactions are always appreciated <33

coming home to you was toji’s favorite part of the day.

after a excruciatingly long week, he could finally return home to his pretty wife; who’s just as eager to see him too— sending flirty texts and selfies while he’s at work typing up documents. toji may not have shown it often, but when he was away from you, he felt empty. it was nothing more than a blessing and a privilege to arrive home smothered with hugs and kisses — everything he’d missed while at the office. it was a feeling he’d never get tired of, a sight he’d never want to be shielded from.

but tonight, he couldn’t exactly say he was too pleased when he got home.

the thunder outside roared loudly as toji stepped foot into your shared humble abode, expecting to be greeted by you within seconds. but to his surprise, you seemed to have had other plans.

the usual aroma of your perfume was absent from toji’s vicinity— you were nowhere to be found. his gruff voice echoed through the home, calling out for you as he paced around the house. kitchen? empty. living room? empty? backyard? empty. not a single sight of the presence he craved most. he assumed maybe you’d gone out for groceries or maybe with a friend for dinner— but that theory was debunked the moment he heard a faint buzzing sound coming from behind your bedroom door.

heavy footsteps stomped toward the bedroom, with a hand on the doorknob and a determined look on his face, his movements were put at a halt. a familiar symphony played behind the barricade and toji’s brain began putting the pieces together.

without another thought, his hand twisted at the doorknob, creaking it open slowly as he peeked a head into the room.

he’d finally found his wife— and god, was it a beautiful sight.

you laid flat; back against the mattress with your legs spread as far as they could be— your laced panties pulled to the side. your hands held a tiny pink toy in the shape of a rose, that same hand being between your thighs as your mouth produced strangled moans and whimpers. the man’s fist bawled beside him— angry.

he hated when you did this; masturbating. it was a reoccurring debate in your relationship, toji claiming that it was ridiculous to do so when you had a husband willing to fuck you whenever you wanted. you’d always laugh him off, finding it humorous that the simple task damaged his little ego— but you knew the rules and you knew how strictly toji felt about them — so why would you break them?

he found it captivating how you hadn’t noticed his presence. you were so clouded by bliss that you didn’t realize his tall figure now standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. it wasn’t until the startling sound of his throat clearing caught your attention. you averted your eyes to your husband— your heart beating from the build up of your orgasm and the scare of toji’s unannounced appearance.

“what're you stopping for? you like actin’ up when i’m not around, so do it now” he hissed, darkened eyes fixed on you and the small mess between your legs. you only sat there; not a single movement made. you were startled, yet still aroused.

truthfully, you thought you had a good thirty more minutes before his arrival, your impatience let your hormones get the best of you. you pout, still not saying a single word. he was overreacting. it wasn’t like you’d fucked yourself to a lousy video online; you still had your hubby in mind— you always did.

“not talkin’ to me now either? i see you’re just breakin’ all the rules tonight aren’t ya’?”

you shake your head in a ‘no’ gesture, only egging him on more from the ongoing stillness he called the silent treatment. it seemed like you blinked once and toji was removing his fastened button-up shirt, the fabric uncovering the abstract ink that spread across his chest. he then moved to his belt, slowly undoing the leather before moving to his slacks and underwear until nothing but his cock sprung free.

it was so pretty. he was girthy with some length on him; from the head to his shaft ran blue-ish veins that stuck out more when it thumped from pressure, as well as a sticky fat tip that leaked of precum that you loved licking clean.

“get your ass over here, now.”

you powered off your forbidden toy, placing it on the side of the nightstand before inching toward your straight-faced husband. he took his cock in his hand and slapped it against his tummy; his way of of telling you to get on your knees. before you could bring yourself to begin, you lifted your head to look him in the eyes, your pretty lashes flickering up at him in a pleading manner.

“t-toji i’m sorry, baby. i shouldn’t have—“

“shut the fuck up,” he interjects, breathing heavily through his nostrils, “and no hands. take it all.”

his demands weren’t exactly impossible to meet; your pouted lips part to wrap around his leaking cock, taste buds recognizing his salty substance in an instant. you began with soft kitten licks to his tip, running your tongue over the slit as a warmup. any other time, this would’ve been the usual, but as of tonight, toji wasn’t putting up with your games.

his rough hand cupped under your chin as he held your jaw open, “do it right or it’s gonna’ be worse for you. i’m not fuckin’ around, y/n. you’ve pissed me off enough.”

“i’m sorry,” you whine, placing a hand on his thigh only for him to shun it away.

“don’t apologize, get to work.”

and you did— for the second time, you took him into your mouth, the warm sensation of your throat causing toji to groan. with his hand still on your jaw, he guided your head back and forth; the sounds of your gagging making him tense up in your mouth. spit began to form in both corners of your mouth as you continued you suck and choke on his hard on.

“yeah, swallow all that shit,” he encouraged, your heart fluttering at the given praise. you tried your best to engulf him in, but due to his size your throat struggled to take him, but that didn’t stop your determination. you gagged around him, your hands resting on your thighs for balance as he vigorously fucked your face; his hands now cradling the back of your head as you tried to take more of him in.

toji didn’t fail to notice your effort. he knew he was big and that’s what made it all the more fun; seeing his pretty little wife struggle to take what’s hers. but if he had to admit it, you really were trying your best— your eyes looking up at him with hope, continuing to search for some sort of approval as your nose got closer to meeting his pelvis. you were almost there and he was so proud of you, but he couldn’t show that of course— not when he was supposed to be teaching you a lesson.

he continued to fuck your face, observing as spit and precum convered you. in guilt, he decided to give you a breather, pulling away with a string of saliva hanging from his cock. you looked so beautiful— drool pooling from your now swollen lips that ached for a kiss.

“on the bed,” was all he muttered to get you to rise from your knees. you positioned yourself on the mattress, allowing your legs to spread open so he could have a clear sight of your leaking cunt. your pussy was so pretty— and not to compare, but he’s claimed it to be the prettiest he’s ever seen; two soaking lips that held your sensitive bud between them— and don’t even him him started on the taste.

“what were you doin’ when i got home, sweetheart?” he asks, already knowing the answer, but wanting to hear it come from your sweet mouth instead.

“toji— please.”

“nah, tell me. what were you doin’?”

you sent him a shameful glance, embarrassed but turned on all at once. your husband had a habit of doing that during sex— watching you become flustered from just simple dirty talk; it was almost like he got off from humiliating you.

“t-touching myself,” you finally state.

“and what’d i say about that?”

your chest heaves as he reaches a hand down to touch at your lower half. he traced over the damp patch in your underwear; the exact spot being the delicate beauty of your clit.

“that if i w-wanted you..all i had to do was ask,” you stumble over your words as the man rubbed at your spot, the slow circles around the sensitive area causing you to whine.

“ah, exactly. so, you wanna’ tell me why i walked in on you being a fuckin’ slut?” he grumbles, in a calm, yet, harsh way.

“toji— i’m sorry, please, baby—“ a small pat to your cunt interrupts your jumbled sentence, toji being unpleased with your answer. you could feel his cold fingers begin to push over the fabric that shielded you.

“answer me.”

“because— fuck! i missed you. you’ve been so busy at work. i don’t know toji— i was thinking of you, only you,” you plead, eyes shutting from the small amount of pleasure. he slowly stuck his middle and ring finger into you, the cold metal of his wedding ring grazing against your walls. you let out a small sigh, rolling your eyes to the back of your head as his fingertips pushed against that sweet spot.

“and that gives you the right to be a greedy brat?” he presses. you could barely give him a clear response, the pleasure was overwhelming and the cool temperature of the room didn’t make it any better; nipples hardened and goosebumps covering your skin.

“n-no! i’m sorry, please fuck me, toji!”

he laughs, lips churning to a smile that uncovered his pearly whites, “but weren’t you just fuckin’ that silly little toy? now you want some dick— after i told you over and over again i’d be happy to make this pretty pussy cum any time of day?”

“toji- i wan’ it. i won’t ever do it again.”

toji had a love/hate for punishments. a part of him wanted to fuck you dumb as a lesson, but the other half of him wanted hold you close with his head buried into your neck, making you cream all over his cock as he as he apologizes for not tending to your needs sooner— but you had to learn one way or another.

toji pulled his fingers from your pussy, a cry escaping your lips as you yearned for his contact. his palms grabbed at your feet, pulling you toward the edge of the bed, “flip over and arch your back.”

you wasted no time doing so, making your stomach touch the cool sheets as your ass was held high in the air. toji’s cock twitched at the sight because, well…damn. he didn’t know whether it was the angle or the position, but your ass somehow looked bigger than it was when he last fucked you this way. he couldn’t believe he’d been missing out on this— your sweet, fucking pussy that just craved him and only him.

toji fully removed your panties, getting rid of the hassle of pulling them to the side. looking down, he gathered up a wad of saliva in his mouth, spitting on both his dick and your already wet cunt— lubricating you both.

“t-toji please put it in— i need it.”

“you really rushin’ me like this after how you’ve behaved? after how you’ve disrespected me,” he asks, rubbing his tip against your folds; wetness coating him.

reaching your arms back, your manicured hands spread your cheeks apart, letting him see your pretty pussy open and ready for him, “fuck me. i’ve been bad, but i-i can take it, i promise,” you hiccup, looking back at him with sweet doe eyes that held nothing but lust. toji had never seen you this way— so needy. so willing to take him without another thought in that mind of yours.

usually, you ran from dick, but tonight you needed him— bad.

you’d spent too much time away from one another. with toji working almost every day, it’s hard to get a moment to have such intimacy. he took it as disrespectful for you to please yourself, but who else would do it if he wasn’t here?

“stay like this. if you run, i’ll walk away and leave your ass here, understand?” his comment came out as a low groan due to the feeling of him finally sliding into your warmth. titling his head to the side, he watched as you nodded, sucking him in so effortlessly with your tightness. he placed his hands on top of yours that still rested on your ass; his way of holding you down while still keeping you so open.

“ooo— fuck yes, toji!”

your moan was loud as his pace was rough, but not too fast— still wanting you to adjust to his size. toji was mesmerized. between watching himself split you open to the way your ass jiggled with every thrust, he didn’t know what to focus on. you were just so pretty beneath him like this.

“pussy’s so tight. she missed me, huh? missed me stretching her out every night?” he mumbles, but it’s loud enough for you to hear, making you clench around him. toji released your hands and let them fall to your side as he gripped at your hips; his thrusts becoming more prominent with every cry, every whimper, and every moan you let fly from your lips.

“yes, yes, yes— missed you. missed you s-so much, baby,” you whine, your voice battling to compete with the sounds of rain outside the window and a queefing, sopping cunt.

“ha, look at that, she’s talkin’ to me too, y/n.”

although you couldn’t see him, you knew there was a smirk expanding across his face. he was fucking you so good. you could barely ponder a single thought in your pretty little head. your mouth was hung open with your tits pressed against the mattress as he drilled into you like never before— it was all so much at once.

“take it, take it all. feel me fuckin’ you? it’s better than a toy ain’t it? yeah, i know it is,” he grunts. you could feel your orgasm approaching, the curve of his length kissing your g-spot over and over again. just when you were about to release, toji pulled out, standing on the back of his heels while slapping his tip on your cheek— an aggravated moan leaving you.

“toj— what the fuck? w-why would you—“ your complaints were cut off by a loud slap! sound. the stinging gesture to your ass making you jump.

“watch your mouth, y/n. fuck me back and stop bein’ lazy.” he utters, watching as you adjust your arch.

with your hands stretched in front of you, your fingers tightly hold the sheets as you begin to move up and down his dick, a creamy white liquid staining him. toji stumbled back a bit at how hard you were trying, your ass pushing against him damn near making him cum at just a few movements.

“just like that, sweetheart. there you fuckin’ go.”

“toji— daddy, im gonna’ cum!” you cry, your actions becoming faster when you realize toji is following your pace, fucking himself into you while grabbing the plush of your sides. he could feel you pulling him in as you reached for your second climax.

“hold it.”

“but— toji, please i’m—“ you plea, reaching back to grab at his arm for support only for him to slap it away and tell you to take it. you squeezed and clamped around him like you were holding on for dear life; and he loved it. the deep strokes he was giving you were degrading and you were eating them all up.

“gonna’ cum on this dick? hm? gonna’ wet my shit up?” he expresses, watching the motion of your ass crash back on him.

so fucking pretty.

“y-yes! i’m gonna’ cum. aah— baby, i’m- oh my—fuck!”

once you finally came down, small sighs and whimpers could be heard coming from you. toji slowly slid out of you, your pussy making an airy, gape noise as you set him loose.

“can you give me another one?” he whispers against your ear, and you nod— letting him flip you onto your back. toji could now see your face; it’s in an exhausted state, eyes batting as you struggle to keep them open to return his gaze. you looked so pretty. honest truth, he didn’t think he’d last very long doing this position tonight.

“yes, i can give y-you one more. please, i wanna’ make you cum, toji.”

for the first time tonight, toji placed a chaste kiss on your lips. you didn’t exactly know what changed. he went from fucking you with no remorse as a punishment to being gentle and attentive to your quivering body.

“spread your legs angel.”

you obeyed, toji assisting you by propping your legs onto his shoulders. this way, he could hit it deeper, harder— if you asked. he tapped his cock onto your clit a few times, fomenting your already quivering thighs.

“look at me when i put it in,” he demands. your eyes quickly opened to peer up at your husband— you could now see the man you’ve missed so much; forehead sticky, a thin silver chain around his neck that you liked to hold between your teeth as he fucked you, and a set of tattoos that covered most of his chest— astonishing.

the feeling of toji’s dick sliding into you was something you’d always crave. his breaths were shaky and his grunts were loud.

“shit, pussy’s so fuckin’ wet just for me, huh? all for me.”

“daddy—fuck, you feel so good.”

he lets out a breathy laugh, “yeah? you like when i fuck you like this?” he inquires, thrusts becoming more fleeting as time went on. you held on tightly to his forearms that were planted beside you, clawing at the veins that ran up them.

“harder, toji.”

thankfully, he was one of the good ones who knew the dissimilarity between faster and harder; his dick ramming into you like a hammer on nails. and you took it so well, with your tits bouncing and your head thrown back, sucking in harsh breaths of air while crying out his name like a prayer.

“keep screamin’,” he grunts, lowering his body down to your neck, biting a licking at the skin in an attempt to leave a mark, “let em’ know who’s pussy this is.”

“it’s yours, toji. it’s only yours— i-i love you, please cum in me.”

toji’s hands moved from the side of you to your tear stained cheeks to caress them, holding your face in his hands as he rocked into you making your body jolt.

“i love you too, beautiful. you’re gonna’ make me cum n’ breed that pussy, you want that? hm?” he asks, more so as consent than opposed to dirty talk. you rapidly nod your head, wrapping your hands around his wrists while staring deeply into his drowsy eyes.

you lifted your head a little to plant kisses onto his scarred lip, noses touching and grazing against one another as your tongues battled for control. it was messy, it was steamy, and most importantly, it was love.

“ssss’ fuck— i’m cummin’ baby. aah, shit.”

he hissed his last few moans while still fucking you senseless, your third orgasm coming over you in a wave of pleasure; juices you hadn’t seen in a while spurting all over his stomach. although he’d already came, he continued to fuck into you until you were breathless and weak under his touch, shaking from the overwhelming force.

he soon pulled out of you completely, removing your legs from his shoulders and laying his enormous body on top of your smaller one. your foreheads were touching and you were all out of breath, basking in one another’s devotion. the two of you stayed that way for a while, toji hugging and kissing at the sweaty skin of your chest and stomach.

“toji,” you say barely above a whisper.

“are you alright, angel? did i hurt you?”

you smile at his concern, his bushy eyebrows furrowing, “no, i’m okay. you’re just the only man i know that would ever be jealous of an inanimate object,” you laugh.

“y’know, i can’t really be jealous. i haven’t exactly been as present as you’ve liked me to be and i apologize for that.”

you place a kiss on his lips while grinning at his sincerity. you knew he didn’t mean any harm, and after all, he was working to please and give you the life you deserved.

“if you really want me to stop using the toy i’ll get rid of it,” you suggest, only to have him shut you up with a smack on your thigh.

“nah, maybe i can use it on you sometime. have a competition to see who can make you cum first,” he jokes, earning a small giggle from you.

“you’re so annoying.”

“only for you, my love. only for you.”

#saaturnowrites #toji x y/n #toji x black y/n #toji x black reader #toji x reader #jjk #toji smut #jjk smut #toji fushiguro

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smusherina · 26 days

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bridges burnt - chapter 1 [epilogue series] (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: When an invitation to Gretchen Wieners' wedding ended up in your mailbox, you'd been sure it was a mistake. Only, it read your name in neat, swoopy calligraphy. It was addressed to you. And Regina George, whom you hadn't spoken to in years.

additional clarification: This is set in the universe of yard work, a series of mine that can be found on my page! Reading this one might be a bit challenging without the context of the series :)

very necessary note: Okay, fuck, it was supposed to be a one shot. Then I got excited. So have another freakin' Regina George series. Set in the same universe as yard work! Reading that provides some essential context, but you do you! I don't think it's unreadable without it.

You adjusted your tie for perhaps the millionth time. It was a silky blue, befitting your navy suit. You fiddled with your cufflinks, silver like all your accessories, then pulled out the baby blue handkerchief to wipe down your glasses, then folded it pack into your pocket, then bent to redo your laces, then-

"For fuck's sake, the ceremony hasn't even started yet!" Amanda nudged you violently.

"Ow!" You hissed, elbowing her back. She slapped your knee, hard.

"Get yourself together." She glowered, pointing a manicured finger at your nose. "It's worse enough I have to be here at all. You're not gonna ruin this for me."

"You're here for the open bar and free food. I paid for the flights, the room, the car." You bit back. "I'm allowed to be nervous."

"There's nervous, then there's this." Amanda looked you up and down pointedly, noting your bouncing knee.

You squeezed at said knee, trying to calm down. Like you'd been trying to do since hours ago. No results so far.

"Look, buddy, it's just a wedding. You don't even really know her. I get you... Have a history with the bride, or whatever, but it's gonna be so fine."

"It's not Gretchen I'm worried about." You mumbled.

"Whoever. It's gonna be fine." Amanda said, flippant as ever. How she was so carefree all the time was mind-boggling to you.

"This place is filled with people from high school. God." You looked around. "That guy over there, don't look, with the receding hairline- I said don't look!"

"Be more specific, every man here has a receding hairline. The demographic is excruciatingly pallid."

"Shut up, girl," You shook your head but couldn't help but laugh. It was mostly white people here. "The one with the wife that looks exactly like him, unbelievably blonde, kinda mousy," You waited for her eyes to latch onto the man you were talking about. "He used to buy weed from me, like, every week, and then went around spreading rumours about me."

"Ungrateful." Amanda scoffed. "And look at him, a wife, child, and probably a 401k. That's how it goes for boys like them."

"Yeah." You sighed. "How's the salon doing, by the way?"

"Thriving. Thanks to you. But I worked my ass off." You lifted your arms in surrender. She had worked hard to keep the place afloat for as long as she had, so even if you hadn't invested she would've found a way.

Amanda cast you a meaningful look. "You're doing better than ever, aren't you? Financially speaking. How's everything else?"

"Well, y'know..." You shrugged. "It's complicated." You looked down. Amanda patted your knee, a sympathetic smile on her face.

"You got a nice suit, though." She pointed out.

"Oh, for sure. Look at these, custom cufflinks." You showed off the silver bits. "Do you think these rings are too much?"

"Don't you usually have an ungodly amount of them on?"

"I usually just have these three." On your right pinky was your Engineer's Ring. On your left thumb was an embroidered steel band and on the pointer of that same hand a ring with a big emerald embedded in a bed of crystals.

"It's not too much." Amanda took your hand and inspected the rings. "More like sexy." She grinned at you, all sorts of innuendo right on display.

You scoffed and turned towards the altar. The pews were getting fuller by the minute. You were sitting far enough from the front to show you weren't important but not too far as to hint you didn't want to be there. You were on the bride's side, though it didn't matter much. You didn't know Gretchen any better than her husband-to-be.

Amanda had come with you for moral support. You'd been roommates in college and you hadn't been able to shake her off since. She'd grown on you, though you often acted more begrudged than you felt. She'd helped you out a lot over the years.

She'd been there when you couldn't leave the dorms, trapped in the vicious clutches of paranoia. She'd been there helping you get back on your feet when dad's businesses started going, one by one, each more explosive than the last. She was there when you moved back to that little town in Illinois, where Northshore still stood.

You liked to think you'd been equally as integral to her, but that was perhaps a reach. She was fiercely independent, resourceful, and charming enough to make friends with anyone. When the first chance to help her came, you didn't hesitate to take it. She'd opened up her salon right after graduation, staying in New York while you moved back home, and had been doing well until now. Unexpected costs and a wicked plumbing bill had landed her in some hot water.

For the small price of one favour and eternal bragging rights, you'd shoved your newly acquired wealth at her. Dragging her to Vermont in October to attend Gretchen's wedding was you cashing in on that favour.

Eventually, the proceedings began. The groom and his men walked in with little fanfare, mild music playing as they went. Most faces you did not recognize, but there was one back of the head that seemed eerily familiar.

The groom, a classically handsome man, a boring prince type, went to stand at the altar. He had an expectant glimmer in his eye. At least Gretchen's taste in men had improved. Then again, anything beat the scrubs she'd used to keep around.

Behind the groom, his line of groomsmen settled, the best man fronting the crowd. The man of the hour was in a classic black tux while the others flanking him were dressed in different shades of brown. The whole shebang was sort of beige with a little bit of burnt orange thrown in. Amidst the shades of umber, russet, and sepia, stood a familiar face.

Aaron Samuels. You didn't have much time to agonize about him being here before the bridesmaids were stepping through the aisle. Similar dresses but in lighter shades, clearly made to match a certain groomsman. You didn't recognize any of them.

The maid of honour was a little odd. Her makeup seemed to be a lot thicker on one side, like there were several layers of foundation caked on. Her eye makeup on that side was a little heavy also, but she was past you by the time you could wonder why.

"The maid of honour totally has a black eye," Amanda whispered to you.

"No way," You hissed back, trying to get an angle where you could see her face. As she settled in place, facing the pews, even moderately far away you could see that, yeah, she totally was covering up a black eye. Wild bachelorette party, then.

Coos and aws resounded through the church as the flower girl and the ring bearer came toddling down. A little girl, cheeks all red, and looking like she wanted to be anywhere else, and a slightly older boy with an almost manic look in his eye. The girl was in no mood to be tossing petals, so the boy reached into her basket and threw a big fistful of them in the air. The rings rolled off of their pillow but found their way back.

"Oops," The boy said, smiling sheepishly right as the photographer came in to capture the moment. Chuckles echoed through the space.

By the time they reached the end of the aisle, the little girl was dutifully carrying the pillow on which the rings were and the boy was joyously tossing flower petals everywhere. As god intended.

Then came the bride. Escorted by her father, who was beaming with a mouth full of veneers, Gretchen Wieners made her appearance.

It wasn't disappointment that you felt. Not relief, either. It was hard to describe. You'd been expecting anger or some catharsis. This was the person who'd outed you to your whole school, who'd been the catalyst to the worst year of your life, why didn't you feel more?

High school had been over for almost ten years. You carried scars, deep ones that still ached on bad days but at the end of the day, they were just scars. You were doing better than ever. Gretchen had been a bully, had brought you to ruin once upon a time, but who was to say it couldn't all be built again?

You smiled. She looked beautiful. A white dress, a long veil, hair done big, bigger and more grandiose than you'd ever seen, and looking like, well, a bride.

You'd moved on. Considering how she'd invited you too, and knowing Gretchen she was acutely aware of every person in attendance, she had moved on too. You could recognize an olive branch when one was given to you.

That didn't explain the invitation, though. Maybe it was a mistake. Gretchen wasn't known for making those, but she was human too. Right?

"Look, they're totally enthralled by each other. You're gonna be fine." Amanda whispered, ignoring the elderly lady seated next to her shooting daggers through her eyes at you two.

"Yeah. It's gonna be fine."

Notes: Got really ill at the beginning of this week, which delayed this chapter quite a bit. You don't realize quite how awesome breathing is until you can't do it properly. Getting better slowly, it's nothing serious, but the cough is lingering. It is what it is.

This chapter was mostly setting up the narrative, no Reggie and Jorts interactions as of yet. I'm not making any promises because I'm so shit at keeping them, but hoping that this series will be shorter than the original one.

Taglist posted seperately!

#mean girls #mean girls 2004 #mean girls 2024 #regina george #regina george x reader #regina george x you #regina george x oc #regina george x ofc #lesbian regina george #fic: yard work #fic: bridges burnt

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thefangirlfever · 4 months

Text

DBF! Miguel O'Hara (18+, MDNI)

Content warning: Explicit content under the cut. This story depicts a relationship with an age-gap (F: 28 yo, M: 49 yo) and graphic content. If any of these topics make you feel uncomfortable, please do not interact.

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DBF! Miguel and reader having a moment together. They're alone in his kitchen, it's the middle of a rainy fall afternoon and you are drinking tea together. The two of you font need to speak to communicate. Your gestures, your eyes, even the way you sip your tea tell everything you need to know.

His attention is focused on your fingers holding the warm mug. Your hands are often cold and he wishes he could warm them himself. Your eyes linger on his glossy lips, on how their gull shape perfectly mold into the edge of the mug, leaving you practically breathless when you watch the slow up and down of his Adam's apple as he drinks the beverage.

The tea slowly warms up your bodies and without even realizing it, the two of you are closer now. You are basking in the soft, golden light of the room, lost in this moment that you wished would never end.

When Miguel kisses you, it almost feels desperate. It feels like he is trying to absorb your essence, to quench an endless thirst. His lips are just like you've been fantasizing them, if not better. Your back is pressed against the wooden cabinet if the kitchen, your head thrown back as he dives in your sweetness.

His lips taste like the honey he put in his tea and they move with ease on yours. The pace of the kiss is slow, excruciatingly slow. His tongue dives into your mouth, tastes your lips in every possible way while he holds your face firmly.

When his hands start to caress your body over your clothes, you moan into the kiss. Your breath falters and your lashes flutter. You need to hold yourself against the edge of the countertop to not collapse. His hands could be on your hips, your shoulders, your hair and ge still wouldn't stop kissing you.

He feels feverish, ill. Your body feels even softer,more tender than what he could have ever imagined. And yet, your skin is still so firm, every smooth angle on your body perfectly fitting in the palm of his hands. He doesn't know just how far he can go with you without scaring you off. The problem being that he is scared of his own desires himself. It's unlike him to desire anything this bad, to the point that he can't sleep peacefully at night anymore while his body and mind are tortured with the image of you.

He begs you to tell him to stop but you don't and instead you indulge into the kiss, arching your body even more against him, touching him... The sighs your body lets out are low and heavier.

His fingertips caress your neck, your shoulders then run down the length of your body. When his fingertips trace the outline of your chest, a whimpers escapes your lips. He would have never expected you, usually so stern, so calm and collected to act in such a needy way. His hands slip under the hem of your sweater, touching your lower back, the warn skin of your stomach... his hands slide higher on your body until he finally cups your bare breasts still covered by the sweater. A small whimper escapes him when he finally holds them and gets to feel just how smooth and warm your plump flesh is.

He kisses your breasts through your sweater and when he sees how responsive your body is, his appetite only grows more. Your small whimpers finish to make him hard. His raspy voice praises you, tells you just how beautiful you are, how soft, how delicious you taste... your pliable flesh is like the ultimate temptation and he gets lost in these sensations.

Your hands clasp around his face, keeping him close and caressing his hair. A tingling sensation runs straight from your breasts to your core and you're practically sure you're already wet. His callous fingertips make you squirm and release more sounds of pleasure that you would be ashamed of in any other circumstances.

When he finally pulls down the zipper of your jeans and slip his hand under the fabric,a low groan vibrates through his chest. You're so wet that you're practically drenched. He is not better than you and in this case,he can't hide the evidence of his arousal. He should stop, he knows it. But you are already grinding your hips on his hand, humping his fingers in a desperate attempt to get him to touch you. There is no shame on your face and he wished he could be more like you in this moment, shameless enough to only care about your pleasure.

In front of your pleas, he pushes one hooked finger between your plump lips. Even through the fabric of your panties, his digit finds your pleasure point and he presses harder on it with every second. You clench your thighs and moan his name while he caresses you. He is usually taking things slow, taking his time,making sure everything is perfect fie this moment. But he is in a hurry now. He has waited for too long and you want him. Unlike what he was expecting, you want him too. This helps him get rid of his last inhibitions and the two of you are humping each other like two animals in heat now.

His larger body cages you against the cabinet, one of his hands holding your hips while the other pins your hand on the counter top. He looks down on you while the tip of his cock ribs against your folds. Your lips feel so full,their outlines visible in your underwear as they get more engorged with your desire. He is going crazy with this image and he has already made a mess in his pants at this point.

None of you had time to grab a condom and you ended up doing it by rubbing each other's body like that,still wearing your underwear on. His erection pushes, presses against you feel like you're already seeing stars from just the feeling of his fat tip rubbing you over the thin cotton of your panties.

When he reaches his climax, he grunts and can't stop his hips from thrusting against yours one last time. As he leans in front of you, his open collar gives you a hint of his torso. The sight of his wide chest covered in a trail of black and thick curly hair makes you even wetter. Your hands are just about to open his shirt further when the two of you suddenly stop.

There's a noise coming from the front door and you have to stop. Your bodies reluctantly part away, you leaving his warmth and him leaving your softness.

The feeling of shame subsides for the rest of the evening while the two of you have to act like nothing happened but you can't stop thinking about the loss of Miguel buried deep inside your folds and he can't have a minute of peace, fully aware of the warm mess on his thighs.

=================================

This is what 4 hours of sleep,one beer and too much Character AI the last week do to me. Enjoy this mess.

I know I said I wanted to write a slow burn story this time but I didn't want to give you only crumbs, so here's this weird headcanon, smutty one shot but also preview of the upcoming story.

#miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #atsv miguel #fanfic #atsv #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara smut #dbf!miguel #i am normal about this man

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spdrvyn · 11 months

Note

a Miguel x f!reader "who did this to you?" Angst fic?

bewitched by bandages — MIGUEL O'HARA

SUMMARY: as per usual, you were spending your late-nights fighting crime and trying to protect the city to the best of your ability. as you are in the midst of a strenuous battle, you're sucked into a portal which brings you to what you assume to be another dimension.

THIS FIC CONTAINS: violence. harassment. somewhat detailed descriptions of wounds. angst. hurt/comfort. translated spanish (i didn't use google translate). f!reader

NOTES: GOD I LOVE THIS TROPE SO MUCH HOLY SHIT thank you anon for sending me this ask i was gonna do this kind of thing w miguel eventually but like still mwah, sorry for being ia too btw... i'm trying to avoid getting burnt out n shit so that i keep writing stuff for you guys 🫶 anyway, ENJOOOY

"You will never be apart of this."

Those were the last words uttered to you before proclaimed protector of the multiverse, Miguel O'Hara, disappeared into the portal possibly never to be seen again.

He thought so too. At least, until he came back a week later due to yet another anomaly showing up in your dimension. Then another, then another, then another.

Humiliating was an understatement. What kind of Spider-Woman were you if you couldn't even take down one anomaly? Every time trouble came, Miguel was there to fix it. For once, you wanted to be the one to catch the beast. Hold it's severed head up to him with a big, fat smile on your face.

But that was a distant dream, only to be seen after you collapse onto your bed after an exhausting day.

You felt even more hurt when you found out that he was the leader of some kind of Spider Society. Yet, as he said when he first met you, you just weren't capable enough to join it.

Granted, he explained that it was an elite strike force but still. You were proud of yourself for making it this far into the whole Spider-woman gig, turns out that the bar was higher than you thought it was. It saddened you, deeply.

Though with time comes change. You've honed your skills and now confident enough to laugh in the face of who you were months ago, if an anomaly ever showed up again you'd show Miguel who's boss (not literally) and finally be able to join that god forsaken society.

You were much more confident in battle, actually much more confident in general. It was like you were an entirely different person to the criminals that you cowered before at night and the other more important people in your life at day.

However, there were moments where that confidence faltered.

Moments where you felt like that terrified, shameful, and naive little spider that you were mere months ago. A moment like now as you were being absolutely destroyed by one of your regular enemies.

You didn't know his name, you didn't want to bother trying to know anyway. He was the type of villain to give those excruciatingly long monologues that only dragged more and more time out of your excruciatingly long nights. So you just called him tech guy.

He is exactly what he sounds like. Covered from almost head-to-toe with different kinds of technologically advanced weaponry that made you wonder if he'd work as an appliance in a smart home.

Even when you enjoyed poking fun at the multiple devices stuck to his body, he didn't. Continuing to upgrade himself more and more each time the both of you fought. You had a feeling in your gut that your devilishly charming personality would come back to bite you in the ass someday.

He had you under the heel of his boot, quite literally this time. You bite back a grunt as his shoe continues to press into you, barely being able to look back up, you can see the absolutely smug grin on his face.

"I warned you, Spider-Woman. If only you listened to me, you would've seen this coming from miles away!"

"I'm here to—" You want to bury your face into the pavement as you can feel something sharp pierce the small of your back. "Fight bad guys not listen to lectures!"

"And look at where not listening has gotten you, little spider." Tech guy chuckled, uncomfortably close to your ear. You try to pull away but he has you pinned and he's close, too close. You swore from the corner of your eye that he had his hand raised. About to strike.

This was it, he was going to knock you out. Take you back to who knows where. Or maybe even kill you right here and right now. Leaving your corpse on the street for the citizens of New York, the citizens that you swore you'd protect to be mortified by.

You were finished, your end had come. It terrified you, if people saw your fate, who would do this job? Who would be able to gain the courage to step up? Even after knowing the dangers that lurk and entail it?

Dangers such as a portal opening up on the floor beneath you, it was blinding as you squint and your senses are immediately flooded by what feels like everything.

It's like a strong gust of wind swoops you away, the distant yells of tech guy growing quieter and quieter.

This relieved you but pained you.

As you were being blissfully carried away from whatever force was helping you right now, it put a lot of pressure on the injuries that have sustained from that scuffle.

You tried to scream, yell, shout for anyone in this space but nothing. You curl up into a ball, in attempts for it stop and hope that your next destination is the sensation of nothingness.

It was like you were being torn apart then put back together. Shifting from each form. Solid, liquid, gas, solid, liquid, gas, solid liquid, gas, solid rooftop.

What?

You groaned, looking up at the night sky of whatever hell you just landed in. You tried to sit up and you were able to! But with a now bleeding lip in attempts to muffle the absolutely bloodcurdling scream that you were about to let out.

Wherever you were, it wasn't hell (thankfully) but it definitely wasn't New York. At least not your New York.

Everything was strangely futuristic. Flying cars, sleek architecture, a lot of grass to your surprise, and beautiful lights that finished the beautiful view off.

The rooftop that you had landed on was no different either, whoever owned this place had a spectacular taste in furniture and it showed here. As you looked to your side, it seemed that it also connected to a bedroom. An empty bedroom.

God, you were going to feel so guilty about this later.

Fighting back yet another pained noise from coming out of your mouth, you manage to build the strength to get up on your two feet and stumble towards the entrance.

You take your slow strides and get to observe the room in the process, it was very spacious. A huge monitor hanging on one wall, a huge closet on the other side, not to mention that it has a bathroom attached, what would it be without a huge bed in the middle of it all?

To your dismay, you're only able to make it a few steps in before needing to grip the bedsheets for dear life.

The dear life that you might lose when you hear the muted sounds of someone talking from outside.

You're not really able to make any words out but it sounded like whoever they were, they yelled out to someone. Suddenly, she appeared in front of you.

A lady, dressed in a somewhat lengthy but quite fashionable fur coat, she adorned a pair of heart shaped sunglasses as she looked at the TV in the room with a puzzled look on her face.

It's not long before she catches sight of you, eyes widening and both of you exchange glances. You bring your index finger to your mouth in a placating gesture but it only gets worse as she calls out:

"... Miguuueeeeel!"

Miguel? Miguel?

Frantically, you wave your hands around in an attempts to shush her but your heart rate spikes as her body practically phases through you. Hologram. You were throwing hands with a hologram.

And it's like the whole world stops when the bedroom door slides open, your worst fears had come true.

There he stood. Miguel O'Hara. Although something felt different, and you realized that his mask was off. The first thing that came to mind was the unamused pout that he wore, eyes that stared down at you disappointedly, and a broad frame that took up nearly the entire doorway.

The silence was deafening, you could hear it ringing in your ears. So deafening that you could hear your heart drumming in your chest, your shallow breaths, his footfalls as he walked over to you. Before turning his head to his hologram lady.

"Lyla, scan this." Lyla nodded before looking you up and down, wherever her eyes followed it scanned. She turns back to Miguel with the prognosis on your injuries. "Fifteen scratches, ten bruises, and a slightly fractured rib."

The noise that Miguel let out irked you a little, you could feel how heavy it was as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I have a lot of articles that could help with fixing this mess, big guy."

"No, it's fine. I can deal with this myself,"

"If you say so."

Lyla seemingly poofs into thin air, leaving you alone with him and a whole lot of questions that you have to ask. Even then, even if you were the one technically intruding in his home, you couldn't break the silence. Where to even start?

"Who did this to you?" Well, okay. That was a start. You tried to open your mouth to even get a small explanation out but as you attempted to piece your thoughts together, the more it felt like your brain fogged up.

Miguel had unfortunately noticed this too, what a way to make an impression after weeks of not seeing each other. "Just sit down." You obviously complied, careful not to let any blood drip down onto his sheets, you hoped that you wouldn't embarrass yourself further.

Those months of training, those months of self-improvement, those months of trying to be better all shattered within an instant as you saw Miguel rummage through his closet, cursing under his breath until he emerged with a first aid kit.

It felt so hard to think about anything and everything. Well, not really. There were a million thoughts racing through your head right now, most of them being what exactly was going through Miguel's head.

Was he disappointed? It would be a lot more unlikely if he wasn't if you were completely honest. Was he upset? If you saw someone you didn't hold in a high regard just magically appear on the roof of your home all beat up, you wouldn't be the happiest in the world.

There wasn't even a single peep out of him as he opened the small kit, equipping himself with what looked to be a medical cream and rolls of bandages. You spared him just a small glance, you were expecting him to look you dead in the eye with nothing but pure unbridled rage for ruining his night but instead?

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

He was laser focused on treating you right now or what you had thought to be a more plausible situation: he was just too disheartened to even look at you.

And you completely understood why, therefore ripping your gaze away from his eyes and moving down to his hands instead. You watched intently as the part around his hands dissolved into mere pixels before he swiped up a good amount of the cream onto his fingers, then gestured for you to hold your arm out.

Once the medicine came into contact with your wounds, tears dared to prick at your eyes. Fuck, it hurt a lot but you didn't really need to ruin his impression of you any further. You resorted to biting down hard on your lip and turning your head away.

Miguel, being the ever observant one, noticed this as well.

"You owe me an explanation." He was right. You did. You were quite confident that if you stayed radio silent for the rest of the night, you would be sleeping on the cold, cold streets of this world. "I've surmised that you got sucked into a portal then ended up here but most don't end up with injuries this bad."

There goes a good chunk of your explanation, which played well on your end. You didn't even want to begin describing what being transported from dimension to dimension felt like. Still, you wanted to play this cool.

"I was just in a fight, it was nothing serious."

"Nothing serious? Did you hear the results of that scan?"

You can't help how your cheeks flush at his quip, perhaps you were playing it too cool. If you tried too hard, he'd probably be able to see right through you but before you could even attempt defending yourself, he butts in.

"Qué dolor de cabeza." You heard him mutter. "I need more details about this, how many people were in the fight? What were they like? I'm not a mind reader."

His tone was harsh, it felt like he was cutting your scars open rather than healing them. You semi-understood why he was a leader, he had a way of making demands that was for sure.

"It was just one guy, but he had a lot of mechanical attachments. Saws, tentacles, other blades." As you explained, Miguel finished up bandaging your arm and gestured for your other one. You shifted slightly in position and held that up as well, sucking in a sharp breath as he goes through the routine of applying the disinfectant.

He seemed to just hum at your answer like he wasn't relentlessly asking you questions moments ago, you assumed that he wanted to hear more information so you kept talking. Like an idiot.

"I'm not the biggest tech person, you know? I was just swinging through and then he ambushed me, every time I've encountered him, he just continued to get stronger and stronger."

"Every time? How many times exactly?"

He emphasized 'exactly' as if you were actually supposed to count but even if you presented those kinds of details with a whole ass statistic chart, the answer would still disappoint him.

"Probably more than five. Like I said, he upgrades and–"

"Yes, yes. You said that already." He interrupts you again, hurriedly finishing up your arm before he rolls up the bandages; throwing them back into the aid kit with a very audible thud.

If there was another talent of his, it would be how very quickly he's able to shatter your pride.

"What are you trying to do here?" He asks you. You know you shouldn't be asking questions at risk of making yourself look even more stupid but with how vague that was, it felt like you had the right to. "What are you talking about?"

"You're trying to impress me. I'm asking you this stuff to know more about the nature of your injuries and you're trying to goddamn impress me. Why?"

Oh.

Clearly, since it felt like he knew so much more about you, you just looked at him. How could this possibly get any worse after all? No matter what you said, no matter how hard you tried, it would all be for naught in the end.

"If this is about what I said when we first met, these antics of yours seriously aren't helping your case." Your body went numb. "Then, after I clear all the anomalies in your dimension, you come flying back to me. Seriously?"

Your mind went numb.

This felt like more than just a reality check to you, no. Every single criticism that shot back at you continued to break you down into smaller, smaller pieces.

You dreamt about meeting him again someday, and it did not look like this in the slightest. Only now, if you thought about what that scenario would be like, you'd conk yourself in the head for being so fucking delusional.

The distant dream of him entering your dimension, to see an anomaly in your capable hands, to hear that gravelly voice that has only continued to criticize you praise you for your deeds, then you'd get recruited into the Spider Society and save the multiverse to your heart's content.

Oh, how dumb and naïve you were. Clearly, you still are both of those things. His words spoke enough about that. You didn't want to be here as much as he did.

"I didn't want this," You finally said, the most coherent thought throughout this whole mess. "Any of this to happen. I just– I don't get it at all."

"Don't get what?"

"What I'm doing wrong," You sigh, lip quivering as tears dared to fall. This time, it wasn't because of medicine. You hoped it was. "I've trained for so long, I've tried my hardest. You might not think so but I have, I really have. But it seems like I'm making a mess of it all."

With each second that passed, the dam dared to break.

An uncomfortable silence blanketed the room, but this one scared you even more. A while ago, even if he didn't say a word, you knew how he felt about you. About your predicament.

But now? You had no clue. He could embrace you, comfort you, tell you that it's okay and he understood how you felt. You could've pushed his temper to his limits, he would scream, shout, yell, and kick you out of his penthouse.

"This doesn't have anything to do with your training," Like that, Miguel took a sharp pin to the atmosphere and popped it. "It has something to do with your mindset."

Now, you were the one to give him a confused glare. He sighs, eyes scanning over your sorry state once more,

"You did this, all this, to get into my strike force and to woo me whatnot." Before looking back up at you. Don't be mistaken, the harshness in his face is still there but from what he was saying, it didn't seem to be what you had originally thought.

"The reason why you're so stuck is because I shouldn't be the first goal in your mind, you should. Are you following?" You nod.

"Good. You need to understand, this job isn't about trying to meet a standard or getting someone to notice you. Self-improvement. It's all in the title. Self-improvement."

You shiver as his warm hand rests on your shoulder. "If you're already this hung up on trying to win me over, take a step back and think about who's approval matters more. Yours or mine?"

Yours.

It clicked. Everything fit into place and the dam broke, though that should have been more obvious to you when Miguel's face had started to look a little foggier.

At first, you had expected him to hand you a tissue or something but he didn't move from his place. Instead, resorting to rubbing his hand up and down your shoulder in a weird, seemingly unfitting gesture.

You swiftly wiped your tears away with your palm, stifling a sniffle as you ask yet another question.

"So, do you think I'll have a chance of getting in someday?"

A snarkly reply or scoff was what you had anticipated but what he just did was probably the most shocking turn of events looking back at the whole night.

He chuckled.

"I'll keep you in touch."

request rules here, masterlist here

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