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xhoneygirlxx · 8 months

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Juicy

Eddie Munson x big boob fem!reader

summary: the heat causes you to let the girls hang free and it causes Eddie to be a flustered mess

warnings: she/her pronouns used, reader has breasts and wears feminine clothing. skin color/ethnicity is not mentioned! Eddie being a flustered cutie. idiots in love :) mentions of high school jocks being gross. 18+ MINORS DNI. smut: heavy making out, grinding, titty sucking, premature ejaculation. mentions of titty fucking and cumming on tits. shitty writing and not proofread.

a/n: hello my honey buns!! i wanted to get something out while i work on some of my current wips. i got inspired to write this bc i have a tig bitties and every time i wear a bra i feel like i'm dying and i'm too insecure to not wear one lmao. also, i just wanted to say that all different shapes and sizes of bitties are beautiful!!! also please be kind! smut is not my strong suit.

The late August heat made living in Hawkins unbearable. That might be an over exaggeration since you've never traveled anywhere outside of your town, but it still felt like the underside of satan's ballsack.

You regret agreeing to hangout with Eddie the minute you saw the afternoon weather forecast and regret it even more when you got into the metalhead's van. With no working a/c in the vehicle, there was no choice but to have the window's down to get some sort of circulation.

It wouldn't be so bad if there was a breeze but the air was dry, burning your lungs with every single intake of oxygen. You could feel the sweat rolling down your spine, making the thin cotton tank top you had on stick to your skin.

The cotton shorts you had on didn't quell any heat that you were feeling, only making your thighs stick together uncomfortably. Eddie being the angel he was, had already stopped at the gas station, picking up whatever snack he thought you might want, including a cherry icee that was already melted.

The sweat the beaded at your hairline, falling down your face like raindrops, matched the sweat on your cardboard cup. Syrupy sweetness coated your tongue as you drank it, coolness going down your throat to extinguish the flames within your body.

You needed to get out his car as soon as possible and into some air conditioning. Eddie on the other hand looked as cool as a cucumber. His cut band tshirt blowing through the warm air, black jeans tight on his lower body, and his brown curls in a low bun.

You almost wanted to hate him for being so calm, never showing any discomfort when it got hot like this. God, you hated the way he looked so relaxed, puffing on his cigarette and driving with one wrist on the steering wheel. The sun shining off of his ringed fingers, the band squeezing at his tiny waist, the black ink on his alabaster skin dancing with every move he took- he was so beautiful and it was making your temperature rise even higher.

When he pulled up to his trailer, you were up and out of the van before he could even pull the keys out of ignition. To your dismay, he was taking his sweet time getting out of the car, making you wait in the blaze of the sun. If you didn't know any better, you'd think the cheeky asshole was doing it on purpose. As he rounds the car, a plastic bag dangling from his wrist, a playful smirk paints his lips.

He's definitely doing it on purpose. Asshole.

"Where's the fire, Cherry?" he jests playfully at you, making you scowl even more.

"It's going to be in your hair if you don't hurry the hell up." You yell back at him. A small laugh leaves his pretty lips, shaking his head as he pulls out his key to unlock the door.

"I'll open the door faster if you say please." You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest. Playing up the part even more, Eddie takes his time putting the key into the door.

"Oh please Eddie, would you be so kind and unlock the door?" You smile sarcastically up at him. He mimics you, straight white teeth flashing brightly in your eyes.

"Now was that so hard?" Scoffing at him, you push right past his body and enter the trailer.

The small a/c unit the sits in the window works overtime, buzzing and rattling loudly, to cool down the small trailer. It feels like heaven when you walk in, the immediate temperature drop makes goosebumps rise on your skin.

Plopping down on the well loved couch, you sprawl your limbs out trying to cool every inch of your skin. Placing the bag of treats on the table, Eddie makes his way into the kitchen to retrieve a beer from the fridge.

"Is Wayne off today?" The absence of the older man only coming to your attention.

"Yeah, he went to Darla's house." Eddie mutters his response as he works the cap of the beer bottle off.

Darla was Wayne's new girlfriend he had been seeing the past couple months. You had fallen victim to many of Eddie's rants about his uncle coming home late and never calling letting his nephew know he was safe.

Humming a response, you turn your attention to the television that's currently playing reruns of The Golden Girls.

Now that you've been in the cool air for not even five minutes, the creeping heat comes back into your body. The culprit being your chest, heat radiating in the cups of your bra. It was uncomfortable already with the weight on your back and shoulders, not to mention the sweat that collected in the fabric.

Jumping up abruptly from your slouched position, you work your hands around your back preparing to take off the article of clothing. . Before you it off, you remember that you're not in your own home and that it might make Eddie uncomfortable.

As he walks in from the kitchen, sipping on his chilled beer, he catches your stare. Raising a brow and removing the bottle from his mouth, he turns to you.

"You okay over there?" He questions you, eyeing your posture and how you look like you've been caught in the act of something you shouldn't be doing.

"I need to take my bra off but I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

Oh boy is he caught of guard, choking on his spit loudly. His cheeks are tinted a deep red, eyes wide and bulging from his face. Of course he didn't care, you guys were friends and he always wanted you comfortable. The only problem was that you would be braless, sitting next to him.

It's not like you haven't before, any time you wore big baggy shirts he knew you didn't have a bra on, but the extra material of your shirt blocked the visuals of your loose breasts.

When you cock an eyebrow at him, he shakes his head, brown curls bouncing with the movement.

"Y-yeah sure. Ya know what we Munson's say, this land is your land, or whatever." He chuckles nervously eyeing you from where he stands across from you.

Letting out a roaring laugh, you reach your hands under the hem of your shirt, undoing the hook.

"I'm pretty sure Woody Guthrie said that, Eds." Forcing out a small laugh, he watches as you pull the straps down your arms and then pulling the material out from under your white tank top.

Yeah he's going to die right here in the middle of his living room. When you finally pull it from your sticky skin and discard it somewhere on the floor, your nipples pebble up from the cold air. You lean your head back and release a sigh of satisfaction.

You don't see how Eddie's drinking you in right now, how he's staring at the way your nipples are visible through the wet cotton of your shirt, or how he can see the fullness of your chest.

It was no secret that you had a bigger bust than most of the girls in town, earning the nickname of Cherry from all the jocks at school, which you took pride in and eventually took ownership of.

Unlike the jocks, Eddie never made any comments about your bust. Not that he didn't think of them when he was beating off in his room every night, but he never commented on them to you which you appreciated. To him you were just you, double d's or not.

While you were in pure bliss, Eddie was living a nightmare come true. The girl he's had a crush on since middle school is braless in his home, right in front of him. He didn't know how he was going to sit next to you now with the way blood was rushing to his cock, the stiff material of his jeans didn't help his discomfort.

"So, what are we watching today?" Cracking your eyes open to look at your best friend, you could still see him standing in the same spot, staring right at your chest.

Oh. OH. He was staring at your chest. You could have so much fun with this, give him a little taste of his own medicine for his little stunt earlier, making you wait longer in the heat.

"Eds?" Your tone was sinfully sweet. Placing your arms on either side of you, you used your forearms to push your boobs together as best as you can.

"Huh? O-oh yeah. Um, we ugh, we could watch Nightmare on Elm Street." He was tripping on his tongue every other word.

Quickly moving from his spot, he knelt down in front of the television to pop in the horror movie. The boy who was so unbothered by record breaking heat, was now a sweaty, heavy breathing mess because of you.

After starting the movie, he slowly retreats to the couch but as far away from you as humanly possible. Maybe it wasn't that he was hot and bothered by you, maybe he was just uncomfortable with your state of dress.

For the first twenty minutes of the film that's all you could think, trying to figure out what you could do to make the situation better. Without thinking, you take a lollipop out of the bag of goodies he bought, popping it right into your mouth.

You took your time, swirling your tongue around the red candy, hallowing your cheeks every so often. You weren't really paying attention to what you were doing, staring straight ahead at the glowing screen. Eddie was paying attention though, growing unimaginably harder than before.

The movement of Eddie taking the pillow from behind his back and placing it right on his crotch, brings your attention the boy next to you. He wasn't as smooth as he thought, the placement of the pillow gave it away right away. His sweat soaked bangs, bouncing leg, and red cheeks definitely gave it away.

Removing the lollipop from your mouth, you place it down on the discarded wrapper laying on the table. Turning to him, your knees criss cross, you say his name softly.

His head turns with speed when you call him, chocolate brown eyes replaced with the darkness of his pupils.

"Are you okay? You don't seem, well you seem bothered. If it's me not wearing a bra, Eddie I can put it back on." You sputter out, worry rising in your stomach at the thought of making him feel awkward with your braless tits.

Releasing a loud sigh, he runs a hand down his face. "Cherry, I'm not bothered by you not wearing a bra. Well, okay, I am but I'm not uncomfortable."

He's staring right at you, almost like he's waiting for you to catch on but you don't. Eyebrows furrowed, you try to understand what he had just said to you. Before you can ask, he reiterates himself.

"Baby, I'm not bothered because you don't have a bra on. I'm very much the opposite and because I'm a gentleman, I'm trying to make myself calm down the best I can. It's just hard to do that when you're deep throating a sucker right next to me." The last part comes out as a joke, dimpled smile to prove it.

So you were right, he was hot and bothered by you. Just like he made you wait for him, you made him wait even longer to rid himself of his discomfort happening in his pants.

"Well Eds, you know if you wanted to see them all you had to say was please." You tease and he groans loudly, throwing his head back.

"Please, Cherry." He begs and you give in, lying back on the old couch. Beckoning him over to you, you spread your legs to give him room. Like a panther, he pounces on you, smacking his lips to yours.

Its heavy and animalistic the way your tongues attack each other. The lingering taste of beer mixes with the cherry from your candy. When you push your hips up to get some friction on your aching heat, he whimpers in your mouth.

He takes your motions as permission to grind into you, the pressure making both of you moan in unison. Pulling away from your mouth so you two can breathe, he moves to his next target.

The warmth of lips meet the chilled skin of your neck, he kisses all around the precious skin to find that sweet spot. When a wanton moan falls from your red stained lips, he thinks he's hit the jackpot. Sucking and kissing the spot under your ear, you're sure there will be a blotch of purple there.

You hiss out when he runs his teeth along the spot, jerking your hips up in excitement. Moving his face so that he's looking at you, you can see the spit that coat his red swollen lips, the lust the pool in his eyes. He's so pretty like this, so fucking pretty and he's all yours in this moment.

"Can I see your pretty tits, Cherry?" He asks so sweetly, like he didn't just sinfully makeout with you. Nodding in approval, he shakes his head at you.

"I need words, princess." He waits for you, who is currently looking up at him like he's hung the stars and moon. You look so fucked out and so disheveled. He's always known he was going to marry you but when he looks at you he has no doubt that he's going to marry you.

"Please, Eds."

That's all he needs to hear before he's pulling the front of your shirt down, revealing your chest to him. He stays there for a minute, looking unbashful at your tits, like they were the eight wonder of the world.

His unwavering gaze starts to make you insecure, worrying that maybe they weren't as nice as he thought they would be. They were heavy and slightly sagged due to the weight, you had stretch marks that decorated the skin like a zebra.

Pulling your arms up to cover yourself, he grips your wrists and pulls them down. Moving his gaze back up to you, his eyes are much softer.

"Don't hide, please don't hide. Not when I've waited so long to see these." A tingling sensation fills your face, making you smile giddily up at him. When you nod at him, he goes in face first into your chest.

"Fuck, I've dreamt of this for so long." You want to respond but you can't when his mouth is placing pecks to the delicate skin of your breast.

Resuming his motions from before, his hips roll right into yours like a wave crashing on the shore. He's everywhere, filling all your senses. Eddie.Eddie.Eddie. That's all that's in your mind, especially when he places your pebbled nipple in his mouth.

"Fuck, Eddie." You hiss out, reaching your hand to the nape of his neck, placing a gentle pressure to keep him there. His switches between swirling his tongue around the numb and sucking on it.

His other hand snakes up to your abandoned breast, groping the fat of it before his fingers pinch the nipple. It's sinful the way it feels, his hard cock hitting right where you need him, the warm of his mouth, and the moans that you release.

Eddie groans, causing your skin to vibrate. Removing himself from your abused breast, he moves to the other one, finally giving it the same attention as the other.

"Fuck, you're so hot." He groans out, eyes closed in ecstasy, high off the scent and taste of you. His movements start getting faster causing him to moan even louder.

Moving away from your chest, he looks down at you, the way your tits bounce with every roll of your hips. He looks at the mark he made on your neck, and how your skin shines with his saliva and your sweat. Your pupils are blown wide, lips puffy and shiny. Then he moves his eyes back to your tits, imagining what it would feel like to run his dick on your sternum, how pretty they would look coated in his pearly white cum, and how hot it would be to titty fuck you.

Every possible scenario plays out in his head when he looks at you and it's too much. With one finally grunt, pulled deep from his stomach, he hangs stops all his motions, collapsing onto of you.

Dazed and slightly confused, you let him catch his breathe. When he brings his face out from the crook of your neck, he has a boyish smile pulled on his cheeks.

"Ed, did you just-"

"Cum in my pants like a teenager? Absofuckinglutely, but if give me about five minutes I'll give you everything you want." You reach your hand up to his face, pushing some of the loose hair that fell from his ponytail, behind his hair.

"If you say please, pretty boy."

He didn't need five minutes, instantly getting hard from the sultry tone of your voice.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x fem!reader

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forjongseong · 11 months

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the reward // jay (ENHYPEN)

pairing: student!jay x tutor!fem!reader

genre: campus!au, smut (minors dni) // warning: older reader, they call reader "Noona", profanity, mentions of studying (lol), Heeseung makes an appearance, the rest of hyung-line are mentioned, making out, a lot of making out, just making out, fingering, protected sex (because Jay is responsible) // wc: ~9.5k

summary: you teach for a living, and you had been picking up tutoring since the extra money wasn't that bad. most of your meetings consist of essay-writing, mock tests, and speaking exercises; so when Jay became your student, you weren't expecting the lessons to include rewards.

author’s note: what?? two fics in the span of three days? with this I announce my retirement...

just kidding I STILL HAVE the secretary!Jay series to finish so I won't be retiring soon. this one is based on the rimless glasses series which is like, a random note I made for my wips, and believe it or not, while I made Bite Me sit and marinate on the shelf for so long, I finished this fic below within seven hours. yes, sometimes I am very motivated.

ANYWAY since I kept getting ideas for this one, I decided to sit down and write everything in one go, because if I pause to pick it up later I end up feeling not that confident with my work.

with that being said, I totally loved this one, so I hope you guys will enjoy it AS MUCH AS I DID writing it.

special mention to @excusememissiloveyou who was there the whole time virtually giving me mental support and good reactions

taglist: @thots4hee @end-hyphen @nyanggk @yoursjaeyun @maggstar @bucketofhiros @dimplejaehyuncutie @shinkenprincess-oh @mochimchimo @jongseonglogy @strawberrification12 @xiaoderrrr

You took the last sip of your latte as you tried to hold in your laughter. You then carefully swallowed your drink before chuckling and putting your cup back on the table, and then swatting the guy in front of you for cracking a joke and deliberately trying to make you laugh and choke at the same time.

“No, but seriously, thank you,” Heeseung said, tapping his fingers on the table. “I reached my target score.”

“What was it again?” You asked, at the same time unlocking your phone to check the time.

“7.5,” he answered.

You frowned. “That’s literally the same score you had before you took lessons with me, is it not?”

Heeseung nodded. “But without your help, I probably would have scored lower. Thanks for all the practice. And your time.”

You smiled and waved your hand, pretending to be humble. “Well, you’re welcome. I’m just doing what I get paid for.”

This time Heeseung was the one who chuckled, and before he could say another word you had to excuse yourself because it was time for your afternoon class.

“I’ll make the transfer tonight,” Heeseung said as he stood up, collecting the used napkins on the table. “Oh, by the way, Noona, I gave your number to my friend. He said he needs a tutor too. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Sure, you can broadcast my number to everyone who needs a tutor, to be honest. I’d love the extra money.”

Heeseung snickered and waited for you to start walking. He sped up and held the door open for you as you both exited the café.

“What’s his name? Or her, sorry, I just assumed.” You fixed your bag’s strap on your shoulder before taking out your phone again.

“Jay. He’s a med student too. We’re in the same class.” Heeseung started typing on his phone. “I’ve just let him know that you know he’s going to text you.”

“Awesome,” you said with a smile. “I’ll see you around, Heeseung. Good luck with the semester abroad.”

---

The waitress eyed the empty plates you had set aside before you started scrolling on your phone, and when you made eye contact with her you nodded, and she immediately took the plates away. You then placed an order for a cold drink since you were sure your new student was going to be running late.

“Punctuality,” you sighed to yourself, “should literally be counted in every single score…”

You heard the bell chiming as someone entered the restaurant, and your eyes immediately fell on him. The guy had his hair slicked back with a couple of strands hanging on his forehead, he was wearing a white button-down with a suede jacket on top, and the straight-cut pants he was wearing made you want to ask him where it was from.

“Y/N Noona,” he greeted you with confidence before you could even stand up, “Sorry, I’m late.”

“Hi, Jay,” you watched as he took his backpack off and set it on the chair beside him. He then sat down and looked at you with a huge smile.

The fuck? What is he so attractive for? You thought, smiling back.

“I didn’t know this place existed on campus,” he began, initiating small talk. His eyes were scanning the place, and as he looked around in wonder you thought for a second that he looked like a majestic black cat. And you love cats.

“Yeah,” you said before the silence became too loud. “It’s my favorite place to grab lunch or to hold private sessions like this. So, what do you need an IELTS score for?”

“Same as Heeseung,” Jay answered you only after he looked around for a waiter. He quickly placed his order and refocused his attention back on you. “Did you order yet?” He asked, sounding concerned as he looked around and saw nothing in front of you.

Your drink order arrived, and you thanked the waitress in a whisper and a smile, and you made an effort to explain yourself before Jay started to speculate.

“I already ate, and this is my dessert,” you said, turning the cup around and making sure it was the right order. “You can go ahead and eat while I answer any questions you might have about our lessons.”

“Right,” Jay shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. “So, I want to get a higher score than Heeseung, but I’ve never taken the test before, so how many meetings do you think we should have so I can achieve that?”

Confident, curious, and ambitious, you thought. You could definitely work with him.

“Alright,” you began, clearing the space in front of you and taking out your notebook and a pen.

You spent the next two hours talking to Jay, mostly stuff regarding lesson plans, but after that, you asked him about his studies, and he also asked you about your experiences and your current work. He mentioned the names of the students you had previously tutored, Jake and Sunghoon, and only then did you learn that the four of them must have their own clique.

“Where do you usually have your lessons with them?” Jay asked, wiping his mouth with a clean napkin after he finally finished his meal.

“Since they’re only available in between my classes, I usually ask them to go to cafes around the campus,” you replied. “I literally just go where I am asked, though. You guys are the students, so.”

“Can I pick the place for our next meeting?” Jay asked, grabbing his phone. “I’ll match your schedule first.”

You opened your calendar on your bullet journal and started jotting down Jay’s availability while he typed in your schedule on his phone.

“Right, so on Tuesday, since you only have a morning class, let’s have lunch at this place, hold on,” Jay said, eyes glued to his phone as he pulled up a website of the place he was referring to. “Here.”

You craned your neck to look at Jay’s phone, and when you read the address, you tilted your head. “I don’t know, it doesn’t seem like it’s walking distance from campus.”

“Oh, I’ll pick you up.” Jay blinked at you innocently. “I’ll drive you back to campus too. Or your home?”

“Campus is fine, I carpool with my brother,” you quickly replied. “Thank you.”

Jay shrugged and checked the time on his watch. “We’re done here, right?”

You nodded. “Unless you have more questions?”

He smiled and shook his head, and you hated the way you thought he was just so damn handsome. He then stood up and made his way to the booth, and you saw him take out his wallet while gesturing to your table. When he walked back to his seat, you leaned in and whispered.

“Did you just pay for my meal?” You asked, trying to be discreet.

“Why are you whispering? Of course, I did,” Jay replied, also whispering to match your energy.

You chuckled and mouthed a ‘thank you’ before you stood up, and you were slightly surprised at how fast he walked ahead of you just to hold the door open.

“I’ll see you Tuesday?” Jay asked, stretching out his hand.

You realized he was going for a handshake, so you took his hand. His fingers grabbed your hand firmly and you had to hold in a wince.

“Tuesday,” you replied, keeping your cool. “Bye, Jay.”

---

After a couple of meetings with Jay, you realized that the guy had grown on you and that he might be your favorite student ever if you were even allowed to have one. Skill-wise, he needed a lot of help, but he was a quick learner, and he took all your advice seriously, putting it into action almost immediately and showing up with instant results.

“Can I ask you what your thought process is like when you write an argumentative essay like this?” You said previously on your second meeting with him, at a café that he picked out.

“I look at the topic and begin writing, and I just… write as I go,” he answered truthfully.

You sighed and he took a quick glance at your face. “See, that’s where you’re wrong.”

You began explaining how outlining an essay was essential to make sure you can get your points across, and as you were speaking you kept looking at your notes, his hands, the window, and everything else except his face. But you can feel his eyes glued to yours. He attended every single meeting with the type of energy that you had never found before in any of your other students, and somehow, he just exudes positivity and passion.

During the meeting after that, he handed you over his homework, along with an extra essay that was written according to your input. He could not hide his stupid grin every time you complimented a sentence structure, and for the first time, you finally made him speechless.

“Thank you,” you said after ending your feedback.

Jay tilted his head and frowned. “What for?”

“For taking my input seriously,” you continued.

Jay became even more confused. “Isn’t that what students do?”

You scoffed and shook your head. “A lot of my students don’t.”

“Well, they’re just dumb, then.”

Your mouth hung open in shock at Jay’s sudden insult, and he found your face hilarious that he just had to cackle, his laugh echoing throughout the place. You covered your mouth and giggled silently, helplessly smacking his arm so he would quiet down.

On your fourth meeting, you requested to have the lesson at the campus café since you had to go home as soon as your session with him ended. This time, however, he was running late, and you had to spend a couple of minutes alone chugging down your latte to stay awake.

“Noona, I’m so sorry,” Jay said as soon as pulled the chair beside you. He sat down and started complaining. “My professor just announced this urgent assignment that we had to do, and…”

The annoyance that came with almost being stood up evaporated completely when you heard Jay yapping about what happened in his class. Maybe you were just too tired to be angry, or maybe you were just happy to see him.

“Shall we just practice Speaking then for now?” You asked after he finished his explanation.

Jay nodded quickly. “Anything you want. Do you want me to order another drink for you?”

“It’s fine, calm down,” you said, chuckling lightly. “Alright, let me look for a topic.”

You quickly browsed your phone and began asking him questions. You made a gesture and pointed to his phone, signaling him to record himself speaking, so he did so without breaking eye contact with you. For the next part, you picked a topic that required him to talk about a close friend, and as he began to elaborate on his answer, it was your turn to look at him intently.

“What I like about her is,” Jay spoke in the middle of his answer. He then paused as if he was searching for the right word to use, but you were feeling sleepy and goofy, so you interrupted him.

“Her smile?” You asked in a teasing tone before you started laughing.

Jay became flustered and quickly waved both his hands to deny your guess. “No, not that!”

He then joined you laughing, and you had to apologize for stretching the time limit he had. You then asked him to continue and wrap up, and after that you immediately gave feedback. However, when you were speaking you got tongue-tied a lot, and you kept saying the wrong words or taking too long to find one.

“Noona, if you’re really tired, we can end the class early, I don’t mind,” Jay said calmly, looking at you with concern but also smiling like he somehow found you adorable.

“No!” You said with an unreasonable tone of refusal. Jay flinched in his seat from how loud you spoke. “No, you already came late, so I’m not cutting this meeting even shorter.”

“Alright,” Jay chuckled to himself. He looked to the ground and saw that you had your shoes off.

Eventually, you gave him constructive feedback and even managed to pull up the previous essay he had written and gave him pointers on the spot. When it was time to wrap up, Jay cleared his throat before proposing an idea.

“Noona,” he began, “can we have the next meeting at my place?”

“Sure,” you replied without hesitation. “What’s the name of the café this time?”

Jay smiled and shook his head. “I meant my place, as in, my house.”

“Oh?” You paused and let your hand hover over your book, trying to formulate a response. “Uhm, I have never—”

“If you feel uncomfortable, it’s fine. We can go to another place. You can choose!” Jay quickly revised his statement, worried that he made the wrong decision of even voicing his idea.

“Well, where do you live?” You asked, genuinely curious.

“Not walking distance from campus,” Jay said with a smile. “But again, I’ll drive you there and back. I live alone, it’s my parents' house, but they’re currently living in another city to take care of their business, so they left the house to me. And we won’t be alone, I’ve got some workers who are doing renovations, so…”

You realized how flustered he became, and by now you already know that Jay tends to say a lot of words when he was nervous, so to save him from further embarrassment, you nodded. His eyes lit up when he finally got an answer from you.

“I’ll text you when you can pick me up,” you said. “Don’t be late.”

Jay licked his lips before grinning widely. “I won’t.”

---

You were lounging on a huge sofa, a couple of pillows under your head and between your legs, and you winced as you heard the sound of ongoing construction outside the house. You glanced over to Jay, who had his eyebrows knitted and his rimless bluelight filter glasses perched on his nose, studiously reading the questions on his laptop screen. The noise-canceling headphones you brought proved to be useful, as he seemed to stay focused really well, and you wondered why he did not own a pair.

After introducing the idea of taking mock tests online and reviewing them right away, you ended up staying for longer hours whenever your meetings were held at Jay’s place, and when you first came there, one of the workers mistook you for Jay’s girlfriend. You then began to wonder if he had brought home other girls as well.

“Noona,” Jay called for you, breaking your chain of thoughts. “There’s no way I can answer this one correctly.”

Jay pulled his headphones down and gestured for you to sit next to him, so you did, and he pushed his laptop to your side so you can see its screen better. He was complaining about the true-false-not given questions, and he was getting frustrated because he could not tell the difference between false and not-given.

As you began to explain, Jay pulled the laptop closer to his side again, and you wanted him to read but also listen at the same time, so instead of pulling it closer to you, you moved closer to him. You ended up sitting closer to the coffee table and closer to the screen, with Jay sitting right behind you.

“So, if you see this passage here, the third paragraph,” you said, pointing at the screen. You did not hear a reply. “Jay?”

“Sorry,” Jay quickly replied, shaking his head. “Sorry, I zoned out. You smell so good.”

You were not going to let Jay see you blush, so you merely chuckled and cleared your throat. “Okay, moving on.”

You continued explaining, and Jay kept responding to you with one-word answers or mere hums, and you thought as long as he was paying attention, you did not need to check on him.

Little did you know that as you were speaking, his eyes were scanning your whole body. He leaned in ever so slightly to take in your scent better, and he noticed how sheer the button-down you were wearing was. He could barely see the outline of your light blue bra strap, and as you adjusted your position, he realized he was leaning in too close, so he quickly backed away before he got caught.

“Do you get it now?” You asked, looking back at him.

Jay was leaning against the sofa, a fair distance from you, but his eyes were focused on your lips, and that was a hard thing not to notice. To be frank, you were fighting yourself and trying to regulate your heartbeat whenever it beat faster when he came a little too close to you, and now you were beginning to think that the feeling might be mutual.

“Jay?” You asked. You then waved your hand in front of his face. “You seem out of it—”

You could not finish your sentence as you were in shock from the way his hand grabbed your wrist. You froze instantly, and your heart was beating even faster than when he was up close.

“Sorry,” Jay said, clearing his throat. He lowered your hand and let go of your wrist. “Sorry about that.”

“We can end the session now if you don’t feel well—”

“Noona,” he interrupted, “don’t end it now.”

“Okay,” you replied as you shifted in your seat and turned to face him. “How can I help you understand this better?”

Jay licked his lips and looked at the screen before looking at you, and within a short moment, he was flipping coins in his head, trying to imagine the different possible outcomes that would happen if he suggested what he was thinking the whole time.

“If I get the answer right,” he began, “would you show me your boobs?”

The question came out of nowhere and your immediate response was to laugh out loud, but once you looked at his face you realized he was dead serious, and since he asked politely you decided to entertain the idea.

“Alright, why not? Nothing to lose here,” you replied, confident that he would get the answer wrong. It was one of the types of questions that you hated the most because of how tricky it was, so you were convinced that even he would not get it right.

You were glad that you were wrong, for the first time in your life.

“I got it right, didn’t I?” Jay asked minutes later as you leaned closer to look at the screen, scanning the answer key and looking at Jay’s answer.

“Goddamnit,” you muttered, mindlessly clicking the mouse all over the screen.

You heard Jay whisper a ‘yes’ triumphantly and you sighed to yourself before turning around to face him. You began pulling your button-down up from the tuck in your pants, and Jay’s eyes immediately widened.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” He shouted, reaching his hands out to stop you. “What are you doing?”

“Flashing you?” You asked back, fingers frozen at the edges of your shirt.

Jay chuckled and fell back leaning his head on the sofa, taking his glasses off and covering his eyes with his forearm. “Noona, I was just joking.”

You felt disappointed, for some reason, and a little bit humiliated. Was he really just using you to feel motivated? And did that actually work? Were you secretly hoping for him to get the answer right?

“Really?” You asked again for confirmation. Jay nodded.

You paused for a second and then smiled. Jay thought you were going to say, ‘Good one’, but then you began scooting closer to him, and he immediately tensed up.

“So, when I sat down in front of you, and you got distracted, that was part of the act?” You asked, almost batting your eyelashes at him.

You could basically hear him gulp. “Yes,” he said, eyes on yours.

“You said I smelled good, was that just a joke too?”

“No,” Jay answered, chuckling this time. “You really do smell good.”

You reached a spot close enough to hear his thoughts, your breasts just inches apart from his chest.

“I really hope you’re not lying,” you whispered, your lips almost grazing his.

Jay let out a soft grunt before he pulled you by your wrist, and you yelped as he somehow managed to maneuver you to sit on his lap. You then kissed him first, pushing him back and letting his head rest on the seat cushion. Both his hands began riding up your thigh as you mercilessly dominated the kiss, quickly tangling your fingers in his gorgeous hair.

His hands moved to your ass to give it a squeeze and you moaned into his mouth, your body shaking and quickly succumbing to his touch. You began grinding on him, barely feeling his bulge, but as he began to dominate the kiss you heard feet shuffling right out the terrace.

“Jay?”

You jumped out of his lap at the sound and immediately made your way to the open kitchen, pretending to busy yourself. Jay cleared his throat and wiped away his saliva, or maybe yours, from his mouth. He stood up and walked over to one of the construction workers who called him, and you tried to observe them quietly as he spoke to him. He held himself with so much composure, almost like he did not even get caught making out with his tutor.

The worker then nodded, and Jay waved slightly at him, and you assumed that the man just gave Jay an update before excusing themselves for the day. You took a deep breath and held the empty glass you took in one hand while massaging your temple. You saw Jay making his way towards you with an apologetic smile on his face.

“Sorry again,” Jay said, standing on the opposite side of the counter. “I actually… don’t have anything else to say.”

You chuckled and looked down to avoid eye contact because you were sure that one more look from him would make you combust.

“Are you okay?” Jay asked, voice full of concern.

“I am, why?” You replied, confused.

Jay shook his head, unsure. “I just did not want to come off as a… I just hope you know that I’m not taking advantage of you, and I really don’t want you to feel—”

You began laughing softly and Jay had to stop speaking.

“Noona?”

“It’s fine,” you said as you began walking to him. You fixed a strand of his hair that was out of place from how much you were ruffling his hair earlier. “I’m okay.”

Jay kept his eyes on you, and you detected a different emotion. Before, you saw that it was lust, but now his eyes seemed hopeful.

“If you’re really okay with it,” Jay spoke, placing a hand behind his neck, “do you think it would be cool if we make it, like, a regular thing?”

“Elaborate, please.”

Jay chuckled softly. “I meant like, I think I could get motivated a lot if there was a reward waiting if I get a question right. Or if I reach a certain score in a mock test, don’t you think?”

You liked the idea very much that there was literally no reason to refuse. “I actually agree.”

“You do?” Jay started smiling widely. “Okay, cool, so the next meeting—”

“You’ll have to pick me up again after my class,” you interrupted, “and we’ll probably need some snacks here.”

Jay nodded firmly as if he had just negotiated a great deal. “Wait, Noona, you don’t have a boyfriend, do you?”

You shook your head. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

“Of course not,” Jay scoffed. “I just didn’t want to get in between of anything.”

You pouted and nodded, understanding. “Well, you’d probably be getting in between something.”

Jay tilted his head in confusion, and you brought your hand to your thigh, patting it. Jay closed his eyes and sighed. You giggled at his reaction.

“This session is over. You need to drive me back,” you demanded, placing the glass you were holding the whole time back on the counter.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Jay muttered before winking at you and turning around to go grab his car keys. You rolled your eyes before following him.

---

To say that you could not wait for your next session with Jay would be an understatement. You were literally counting the days, down to the minute, and you were checking your phone a ridiculous number of times just so you could respond to his chats in an instant. When he picked you up and you saw him getting out of the car to open the door for you, your heart was beating like a drum.

It was understandable, and pretty logical, actually. You had not been intimate with anyone in a long time, and Jay was, quite frankly, fucking hot. It did not help that he was intelligent as well, which was definitely your type. Your heart was racing, and your mind was imagining a thousand different scenarios that you did not even realize that you had arrived at Jay’s place.

You quickly noticed the absence of noise when you stepped out of the car. Jay walked up to the door and looked back at you, noticing how you were also silent.

“It’s a day off for the workers, today,” Jay explained, “it’s just you and me.”

“Thank God,” you muttered.

Jay chuckled. “What?”

“Did I just say that out loud?” You asked back in shock.

Jay laughed, genuinely finding you amusing. “You said it under your breath, but I heard it.”

“How embarrassing,” you said to yourself as you entered the house after him.

“On the contrary,” Jay responded, “I find it adorable.”

For this session, you decided to stay as farther away from Jay as possible, to let him focus and also to clear your mind. He was doing a mock test on his laptop after he received major feedback on his homework essay, and you took the time to wander around his kitchen and check his supplies.

“I can hear you opening the cabinets,” Jay spoke in a louder tone, all the way from the living room.

“Don’t mind me,” you shouted back. “Just focus if you want to get a good score.”

“What was the reward again?” Jay asked, smiling to himself as he scanned the question on his screen.

“A make out session if you reach 7,” you reminded him despite knowing full well that he just wanted you to recite it back to him. “And if you reach 8, I’ll give you a blowjob.”

“Fuck,” Jay muttered to himself.

You were unsure if it was because the thought made him unable to focus, or if he was actually struggling to answer the questions. After a few more minutes, he finally finished his Reading mock test, and you walked over to check his score.

“Noona, I present to you,” Jay began speaking, proudly, “a 7.5.”

Your eyebrows knitted as you observed the screen and scanned the page, checking Jay’s answers and matching them with the answer key. Meanwhile, Jay was leaning back and stretching his arms up, cracking his neck and basically doing preparations as if he was about to run a marathon.

“Good job,” you said, pushing the laptop towards the center of the table. You then turned around only to find him sitting comfortably on the sofa, arms to his side and his lap looking so inviting.

“Can I get my reward now?” He asked, eyes glowing and expecting.

“I’ll count it as a 7, since we never agreed on anything if you get a .5 score,” you said, taking the scrunchie from your wrist and tying your hair up in a messy bun.

“I’ll take anything,” Jay whispered, his arms welcoming you as you carefully straddled him.

You paused to place your hands on the sides of his face, and you bit your lower lip slightly before you leaned into him. His lips greeted yours warmly, and you could not help but sigh into his mouth once you felt his heat envelop you. Jay roamed his hands around your waist, up to your back, and lingering on your shoulders for a moment, pushing you even closer to him.

“Fuck,” he muttered into your lips. “You taste so good, Noona.”

You smiled and kissed him even harder, hoping it would translate into gratitude. You felt his fingers going under your shirt, grazing your skin and you shivered at his touch. He continued kissing you, licking your lips, tugging on your tongue, teeth slightly clashing with yours when the two of you got way too passionate. His fingers tugged your bra and he pulled away only to ask you a question.

“Can I?” He spoke, voice raspy from the lack of air. You wanted it just as much as him, so you nodded quietly.

He unhooked your bra with one hand and immediately moved his hand to the front, squeezing your tits as he continued to devour your lips. You began moaning helplessly, and you could feel him growing hard against your core.

“Jay,” you whined, “your reward is just a make out session.”

“I know,” he whispered. “I know, but doesn’t this feel so good?”

You felt him pinch your hard nipple slightly and you flinched before giggling, hiding your blushing face in the crook of his neck. You realized that he had a birthmark there, so you began kissing it, then licking it, then sucking on it, and only then did Jay let out a moan that sounded new to you.

“Noona,” he said, breathless. “We need to establish clearer rules and rewards.”

You kissed him all the way up to his jawline before meeting his lips again. “What do you mean?” You spoke against his lips.

“How about,” Jay said, pausing to groan since he felt his hard-on getting too restricted against his jeans. “For 7.5, I get to finger you?”

You pulled away from him to look him in the eyes and chuckled. “That sounds like more of a reward for me than it is for you.”

“But I really want it,” Jay confessed. “Please let me finger you.”

“Now?” You asked, placing your hands on his shoulders.

Jay nodded. “Aren’t you wet yet?”

He took the liberty to slide his hand under your pants, which happened to be elastic, thank God, and placed two fingers right along your slit. You elicited a whimper, and Jay could swear that you even shuddered at the sudden contact.

“You are,” Jay announced boldly. “Would you let me?”

His palm was right on your core anyway, and you thought that it would be stupid of you to refuse since he was already making you feel so good. Besides, his argument made sense.

“Okay,” you answered breathlessly, and within a second Jay was pulling your pants down to the floor.

“Seamless,” he commented as he eyed your panties. “Why am I not surprised?”

You shook your head and chuckled. “Why? Do you prefer a lacey thong?”

Jay stroked the inside of your thighs gently as he guided you by your waist to sit back down on the sofa, letting him hover his body over you.

“I would actually prefer nothing,” Jay whispered before closing the gap between your lips.

You felt his tongue enter your mouth and his fingers slipping inside of you almost at the same time, and the immense pleasure made you arch your back. His two fingers curled up inside you, making a ‘come hither’ motion that somehow felt gentle and harsh at the same time. He was moving his fingers at a slow pace, but the pressure he put on made you see stars.

“Oh my God,” you breathed, reaching for Jay’s arms to hold on to. “Jay…”

He loved the way you moaned his name, so he curled his fingers one more time and you whimpered, feeling your legs beginning to shake.

“Fuck,” you muttered again, tilting your head to the side, and letting Jay leave love bites along your neck. “Fuck, Jay, I’m gonna cum.”

“Please do,” he whispered into your ear, maintaining his pace the moment you told him so.

When you finally reached your high, your legs were shaking, and your body was spasming, and Jay had to wipe the sweat that formed on your forehead, tucking your hair behind your ear at the same time. His hand was drenched, and you could feel your cum trickling down onto the sofa.

“Oh my God, sorry,” you said in an instant.

Jay shook his head. “Don’t be,” he said calmly, waiting for you to catch your breath before he deemed it was time to pull his fingers out of you. When he did, you watched as he stared at them, two fingers glistening with your essence. He brought his hand up to his mouth and took a sniff before tasting it. The sight made you roll your eyes back.

“It’s unfair,” Jay began, “the way you taste as good as you smell.”

“God,” you said to yourself, and Jay laughed lowly, proud of how he was able to render you speechless. “What about you now?”

Jay tilted his head and then looked down at the obvious tent in his pants. “Oh, it’s fine. I’ll take care of it later.”

“In that case,” you said, pushing his chest slightly so he could move away from you. You tugged down your panties that had stayed on the whole time, and when you took them off your ankles you handed them to Jay.

“For later.”

You smiled as he took your panties in his hand, and you cackled the moment he took a sniff dramatically.

“Thanks, Noona,” Jay said, leaning in to leave a quick peck on your cheek. “Time to drive you back now.”

---

The next couple of meetings were spent in the same manner, more or less. Jay would try his best to get a score as high as he could, but he would never go over 7.5, so all you did was make out with him in his living room, in his bedroom, or even in his car on the ride back to campus. He took it like a champ, though, and he never insisted on taking things further than what you had previously agreed on.

You had one meeting left with him before his scheduled test, and you were dreading the day. Usually, you would be looking forward to meeting him, but all things come to an end, even private lessons, so you halfheartedly dolled yourself up in front of the mirror in your faculty’s restrooms, still determined to look your best for your favorite student.

The car ride to his house was spent in comfortable silence, and you did not mind the way his hand reached for your thigh, resting it there as he rubbed his thumb along your skin. You were wearing a short skirt for a change, and you loved the way it had caught his attention in an instant. Once you arrived, Jay took you by your hand and led you straight to his bedroom for privacy, since the workers were currently at his house.

“Noona,” he called for you before starting the mock test on his computer. You were halfway making yourself comfortable on his bed. “Can you sit with me while I do this?”

“Where?” You walked towards him.

He spun his chair towards you and patted his lap. “Here.”

You chuckled. “Why?”

“It’s our last meeting and I want to be close to you.”

You were underestimating the effects of his words and you felt like your stomach did a flip. You never shied away from his advances, though, so doing it now would be weird. And you did not want it to backfire and end up demotivating him.

“Okay,” you said, turning around before you carefully sat on his lap. You had to adjust your position several times to make sure he was comfortable, and he wrapped an arm around your waist and rested his head on your shoulder as he began the test.

“You can answer in your mind if you want,” Jay said, tilting his chin towards the screen.

You answered by reaching your hand back to stroke his hair, and he hummed in delight as he began answering the test. Eventually, you leaned your back towards his chest and sat comfortably, almost falling asleep from his warmth. You eyed the screen and noticed that he was about to answer a question wrong, so you placed your hand over his and moved the mouse to the right option.

“Isn’t this cheating?” He asked, genuinely unsure.

“I’m giving you a pass, Jay,” you answered calmly, patting his cheek.

After a while, he finished his mock test, and you saw the results come up as soon as he clicked next.

“You did it,” you said, staring at the screen. “That’s an 8.”

You noticed that Jay was silent for too long, and then you realized you had sat on his lap for too long, so you quickly stood up and stretched your legs, smoothing your skirt down.

“Are you ready for your reward?” You asked, eyes full of anticipation.

Jay licked his lips and shook his head. You immediately frowned.

“I feel like if you hadn’t corrected that one question, I would still get a 7.5,” Jay confessed. “It’s okay, I’ll skip the reward.”

“What?” You said, almost spitting your words out. You did not know why his refusal got you so worked up.

“Noona,” he began, reaching for your hands as he stood up from his seat. “I appreciate what you’ve been doing for me, but I also don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

You continued to frown, waiting for him to elaborate.

“I’ve loved the sessions we had, and I’m really thankful for all the rewards, but I need you to know that my goal remains the same, and it’s to get the highest score possible. The test is in a week, and I need to remain focused.”

He really did it, you thought. He used you to his advantage until he didn’t need you anymore.

But you knew that, deep inside. You knew that this way of giving him motivation would be dangerous, more for you than for him. You knew that Jay is a professional and that he takes his studies seriously, so you knew that catching feelings would be out of the picture for him.

Sadly, you forgot to set the boundaries for yourself.

You really thought that you could keep it casual, and you really thought that you were not going to start having feelings for him since it had been ages anyway since you had loved someone, so why does his professionalism hurt you? When in fact, you should be thankful that he respected you?

Your mind was running a mile a minute thinking of possible scenarios, and his face was becoming concerned. Eventually, you managed to fake a smile and you nodded before you said your response.

“As expected,” you began, “from the top student in class.”

Jay blinked, not expecting you to remember the one fun fact that Heeseung had told you about him.

“Your essays have improved so much since the first meeting. Your speaking is fine, just remember not to use fillers too much. You have no problem with the listening section, and for reading, I suggest you keep practicing during the few days before the test.”

Now, Jay was the one with a frown on his face. He was wondering why you were acting so formally again.

“I’ll text you good luck before the test, and when the results are out, tell me your score,” you continued.

“If I get over 7.5—”

“I’ll treat you to lunch.”

Jay scrunched his nose. “Pardon?”

“I’ll treat you to a nice lunch, okay? My pick this time,” you said with a smile so convincing that it was hard for him not to smile back.

“Okay,” Jay smiled back at you, trying to hide the tone of disappointment in his voice.

---

Days had passed by since Jay took his test, and even since the results of it came out. You held back from texting him first since he never responded to your good luck text on the day of his test. You then swallowed the bitter fact that, maybe, or most likely, Jay really was using you and your dumb self had consented to it.

But it could not be, you convinced yourself. He was a gentleman. Would he really do that?

You gave up trying to find answers that might make you feel better, so you decided to busy yourself with other freelance work that came your way. You felt bad turning down the other students that Heeseung had referred you to, and you had to come up with lame excuses like you had no time or you had way too much on your plate.

The real reason was that everything about the test prep now reminds you of Jay, and you would not want to take out your anger and disappointment on your new student. You thought it was best to stop tutoring for a while until you had completely moved on.

One of the latest gigs that got you a little too excited was speaking for a panel discussion in a workshop that was related to your teaching experience on campus. Previously, you attended these events as a participant, sitting in the audience and actively taking notes and recording the speakers, but now you get to see it from the other side of the stage, and you could not help but feel proud of yourself.

You dressed your best to impress, for once not dressing for yourself but for the audience, and when you sat in between the other speakers on stage you became so engrossed that you almost did not realize the familiar figure sitting on the front row but at the farthest chair from the stage.

Jay noticed you looking at him, so he threw you a soft smile and a tiny wave with his hand. You smiled and quickly turned towards the host who had called out your name to address a question. You answered the question and looked at the other speakers on your side, and you were glad that they were nodding along to your response, signaling that you had indeed answered the question correctly.

Surprisingly, it was not hard to stay focused on the rest of the discussion. Jay sat pretty far from your sight, so all you had to do was look anywhere except in his direction. You did look at him one more time, though, and you caught him looking at the huge screen that was focusing on your face as you were speaking. You almost sighed in relief a little too loudly when the session ended, and you gathered your belongings as well as your thoughts as the other people swarmed towards the outside of the hall.

You could feel someone approaching you from behind, and when you turned around Jay was looking at you with a soft gaze in his eyes.

“Noona,” he said.

“Hey, Jay,” you greeted him back.

“Listen, can I speak to you somewhere else private?” He asked before looking around and spotting several people still lingering inside the hall.

“This seems private enough,” you said as you looked around too. “I barely know anyone here.”

Jay became visibly uncomfortable, and you instantly felt bad.

“If you wouldn’t mind, I can drive you home and we can talk on the way, or—”

“Or, you can come up with me to my room,” you suggested.

Jay’s mouth was slightly open as he tried to process your words.

“I am staying here for the weekend. You don’t have to drive me anywhere,” you said with a smile, turning around to grab your bag. Your heart was beating a little too fast to your liking.

Jay tailed you and kept silent as you both waited for the elevator to open. Once it did, you entered and he followed behind you, waiting until the doors closed before he finally began to speak.

“I got an 8.5,” Jay said, looking down at the floor.

Your eyes widened. “Jay, that’s amazing!”

“I’m sorry,” he then said.

You were confused. “What?”

The elevator dinged and two people came inside. You decided to wait until you reached your floor to continue the conversation.

“I’ll explain once we’re inside, I promise,” Jay said as he matched your pace, walking beside you until you reach your door.

His face instantly switched from worried to wonder when he realized that you were walking all the way to the end of the hall.

“The event gave you a suite?” Jay asked, pure curiosity getting the best of him.

You could not help but chuckle. “No, I upgraded myself. Come in.”

As soon as you closed the door, you felt Jay pull your hand before he quickly trapped you between his body and the wall. You did not even have the time to be surprised because the next thing you knew his lips were latched onto yours, and your body betrayed you by reciprocating him and pulling him closer to you.

Jay quickly pulled away when he felt your fingers hooked on his belt. You licked your lips and let your eyes search for his.

“I’m sorry, I owe you an explanation,” Jay said, rubbing his hand on your waist. “I shouldn’t have lunged at you like this.”

You cleared your throat and fixed your hair, gently pushing him away from you before you made your way to the loveseat in the center of the room.

“Have a seat,” you replied, sitting on the sofa yourself and bringing your legs up to your chest.

Jay sat down and took his bag off, letting it fall to the floor as he let out a huge sigh.

“I don’t know where to start,” he confessed.

“Take your time,” you responded, stretching your arm and leaning your head on it. “Maybe start with why you didn’t reply to my texts?”

“I lost my phone,” Jay began. “Literally the night before the test. I had no time to get a new one, and I didn’t want to get distracted, so I just went on and took the test. Right after, though, my professor… that jackass…”

Your eyes widened at Jay’s frustrated insult, and you had to hold back a smile.

“It was just class after class, task after task, I really did not have the time or mental capacity to get back to you, and I don’t want you to think that I consider you as less of a priority, because I don’t, and I really tried to ask Heeseung for your number again, but it’s… you know what? These are excuses. I don’t want to give you excuses.”

You frowned but at the same time, an amused smile was slowly creeping up your face.

“I should have contacted you the minute I could, but I didn’t, and I let other stuff take up my time. That’s my mistake. I’m sorry.”

“Alright, apology accepted,” you said, tapping your fingers on the sofa.

Jay looked at you in confusion. “Really? That easy?”

You clicked your tongue and tilted your head. “That still does not explain why you kissed me a second ago, though.”

“Right,” Jay continued. He took a deep breath before he spoke again. “Right.”

You chuckled lightly and adjusted your position. “Why are you so nervous?”

“Because you’re so fucking gorgeous, and I have feelings for you but I’m not sure you have the same.”

You held a hand over your mouth in shock. “Jay,” you mumbled.

“You understood me wrongly,” he continued. “The day of our last meeting when I said I needed to remain focused. I was trying to confess to you.”

Your eyes were looking into his and you nodded once, telling him to continue.

“I really did not want you to think that I was taking advantage of you. I just grew to like you a lot, and you can’t even imagine how fucking relieved I was when you agreed to my proposal of rewards. Every single time I spent with you only deepened my feelings even more, and I…”

Jay paused to look at you, and you straightened your position.

“I’m doing it again, aren’t I? Rambling when I’m nervous?” Jay said, almost stuttering towards the end of his sentence.

You smiled to yourself before you pushed your body up. You made your way to his side and sat close beside him, touching your thigh with his.

“Well, let me tell you that I’m fucking relieved that you’re here to straighten things out,” you stated, resting a hand on his thigh. “Because guess what?”

You ended your question by inching your face closer to his.

“What?” He muttered under his breath.

“I have feelings for you, too.”

Jay sighed out of relief and smiled before he leaned in to kiss you, and as his hands found their place on your waist, you moved to straddle him. You were both in a familiar position, taking you back to the hours you would spend at his house, making out with him as a reward.

“Noona,” he spoke against your lips in between kisses. “When I said if I get more than 7.5, I was going to say I wanted to eat you out.”

You broke down laughing against his lips and you had to move your face to his neck so he wouldn’t choke on your breaths.

“You just had to interrupt me and say that you were going to treat me to lunch,” Jay continued before bringing your face back up and devouring your lips again. “You kind of owe me.”

You hummed against his lips and guided his hands to go underneath your shirt. He unhooked your bra with ease before moving his hands to cup both your breasts.

“God,” you muttered, grinding your hips harder against his crotch.

“Noona,” Jay breathed, moving his hand to unbutton your shirt. “Can’t you moan my name instead?”

“Oh, Jay,” you whispered, chuckling when you see him smile as your hands cupped his face. “You sweet little thing.”

Jay had managed to take both your bra and your shirt off in an instant, and you brought his head closer to your breasts so he could fondle them with his mouth. You moaned louder as he nibbled on your nipple, grinding faster against his hips and placing your hands firmly on his head.

“Why don’t I treat you to lunch now?” You proposed, tugging his hair and making him look up at you.

Jay nodded and you moved away from his lap, standing up and bringing him to his feet too. You started unbuttoning his shirt as you walked backwards, leading him towards the bed. He placed his hands firmly on your waist, letting you do your thing. Once the back of your legs hit the bed, you sat down and took off your panties and trousers in one go. Jay immediately kneeled in front of you.

“I still have your panties, Noona,” he said as you rested your legs comfortably on his shoulder.

“What do you do with it?” You asked, challenging him.

“I touch myself with it and imagine doing this to you.”

His lips brushed against your folds without warning, and you immediately fell back to the bed, lying down. He kissed your clit before running his tongue along your slit, and the warmth and wetness of his mouth drove you crazy. You began pulling on his hair, determined to get him even closer, and he reacted by hooking his arm around your thighs, humming as he lapped up your arousal.

“Jay,” you whimpered. “You’re doing so good.”

He began making loud wet noises deliberately, knowing how it would make you moan louder, and when you were squirming under his touch he inserted a finger, all the while toying with your clit using his tongue.

“Fuck!” You hissed, arching your back and lifting your ass from the bed. “Don’t stop, Jay, please.”

You pressed the ball of your foot against Jay’s back as he continued to eat you out, taking you to your first high of the night and cumming against his mouth. You were breathing loudly, panting so much like the air was sucked out of you. Jay squeezed your thigh before unlatching his lips, then he gently caressed your folds with his fingers, collecting the remains of your cum before licking them dry.

“Come here,” you begged, your hands reaching out for nothing until he moved and placed himself between your legs.

Jay leaned down and began kissing your jaw, and you took the liberty of unbuckling his belt and tugging his pants down as he devoured your neck. You felt the bulge underneath his boxers and almost froze at the contact.

“What’s wrong?” Jay asked, noticing how you stopped moving for a split second.

“You’re…” You tried your best to look down at his crotch. “You’re fucking huge.”

Jay was the one with a breathy chuckle now, amused at your reaction.

“That’s because it’s hard, and that’s because of you, Noona.”

“Fuck me, then,” you replied, bringing one hand to squeeze his biceps. “Literally, please.”

“Wait, let me just…”

Jay moved away from you to reach inside the pockets of his pants before kicking it off then he pulled his boxers off completely, and only then you realized he was holding a condom.

“That condom was in your pocket this whole time?” You asked in disbelief. “Were you expecting this to happen?”

“Noona,” Jay looked at you with a smirk. “You know how driven I am.”

“Oh my God,” you retorted, chuckling and covering your eyes with your arm. “Can’t believe I fell for it.”

Jay unwrapped the condom and slid it down his length with ease.

“Staying safe, are we?” You asked with a smile as you welcomed him back into your embrace.

“Well, I’m a med student, so…”

“Okay, enough, let’s just fuck.”

Jay kissed your face a couple more times until it got annoying because he was clearly stalling. You grabbed his face and he chuckled, biting his lower lip.

“You’re really pretty,” he confessed all of a sudden.

“And you’re hot as fuck, so can you just fuck me please?”

Jay nodded and kissed you with a smile, aligning his tip with your slit. “Take a deep breath,” he whispered.

You did as he said, and you were glad you did. Jay filled you up and once again you had underestimated your own predictions. Back when you were still just making out and straddling him, you only had a faint idea of his size, and he was wearing loose pants all the time, so it was not like you were able to tell easily. Your breath became shaky as you felt him bottom out, and he brought his hand up to caress your face.

“Tell me if it’s okay to move,” he whispered ever so gently before kissing your nose.

You opened your eyes and found him staring at you. You were breathing from your mouth, so he tilted his head to kiss your cheek softly. After that, you reached your hands under his arms, latched them on his shoulders, and then you nodded.

He pulled out of you and thrusted back in gently, and the force already had you gasping for air. Once he found a steady rhythm, you began matching his pace, thrusting your hips upwards and meeting him halfway. It was impossible to hold back your moans, and if you weren’t moaning you were whimpering, or breathing his name with every stroke he made.

“I’m close, Noona,” he spoke against your lips.

You nodded and ran your fingers through his hair. “Me too.”

Jay began increasing his pace, thrusting into you with a little more force. He looked down and placed a hand under your thigh, keeping your leg secure beside him. He then looked up at you to check if you were still okay. You licked your lips and pulled him into a kiss. His thrusts soon began to grow sloppy, and after he finally released his seed, your walls clenched around his shaft, letting him know that you had reached your high too.

You slowly try to catch your breath, and Jay kissed you once more before pulling out of you, careful not to make a mess. He took the condom off and tied it before quickly chucking it in the bin, and he made himself comfortable lying beside you. Your hand was looking a little lonely, so he took it and intertwined his fingers with yours.

The two of you sat in silence as both your chests heaved up and down. You turned your head to look at Jay and he was closing his eyes as if he was savoring the moment. You scooted closer to him, taking your hand away but letting him wrap you in his arms.

“So, what are we?” You asked in the most straightforward manner.

Jay’s heavy breaths turned into a chuckle, and soon after you were both just laughing like idiots madly in love.

-END-

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sepherinaspoppies · 5 months

Text

hunger - michael gavey x reader

summary: the things Michael does for a crunchie bar.

warnings: 18+, MDNI, mentions of oral m receiving, oral f receiving, fingering, overstimulation, f squirting.

wc: 2,366

masterlist

notes: my first time writing for Michael lol. yes I did watch the movie and im still appalled by it (too much dick). like all of us, I wish Ewan had more screen time on this cause I felt pretty bad for Michael. he just wanted a friend 😩. I plan on writing another fic about him but when? idk I have too many wips

She uses the pad of her thumb to collect the line of cum that had trickled down the corners of her lips. Bringing the digit back into her mouth to suck off the pearly white liquid, all while seductively gazing at the disheveled boy that sat on the edge of her bed.

Michael let out a breathy moan, feeling his softened cock rousing back to life as he watched her throat swallow every bit of him again. She hums at the taste, salty with a hint of caramel from all those fucking crunchy bars he devours everyday when she’d seem him in class.

She brings herself up from the floor, her knees starting to recuperate from the carpet digging amongst her skin. Standing, she begins to thread her fingers through Michael’s soft sandy hair, appreciating the silkyness of it and the faintest little whines that emitted from his lips before tugging his head back rather abruptly.

“Would you like a taste of me, Gavey?” She asks, even though she knows the answer. It was why they were here, settled at her dorm.

Michael nods zestfully, his eyes trailing to her covered core as if he was already undressing her with his eyes. She grabs his hand and doesn’t fail to notice it was a bit clammy with nerves, and it almost made her feel slightly bad about continuing but the way his blue eyes darkened when she directed his hand toward the hem of her floral dress, made her think differently.

His fingers work at lifting up her dress. A deep shade of crimson floods his perfectly sculpted cheeks as he awkwardly and neatly folded her dress on the side of her nightstand. She giggled at his adorableness, she wasn’t as gentle as he was with her clothing. After, when they made their deal about what they wanted from each other, she clawed out his clothes and scattered them somewhere across her room, having no regard for them.

Once she made quick work at getting rid of her bra, Michael’s eyes widened in amazement as if had just received the perfect gift he always wanted. His fingers twitched, longing to touch what was right in front of him but she knew deep down he was holding himself back.

“I-um- I don’t know what to do” he admits sheepishly.

She knows this, having it heard and confirmed by Felix and Oliver when they were at the pub with a group of their friends.

She gives him a reassuring smile before straddling his lap, “I’ll teach you”

Michael’s face reddened even more if it was possible. His gaze lingered on her lips, then a back up to her eyes giving her a silent look for permission to kiss her lips to which she nodded fervently.

He wastes no time to crash his lips to hers, leaning his head forward to deepen the kiss. She moans, unsure if Michael knew how to kiss but even then she was willing to teach him if it need be. She moves her knees to get closer to Michael, her bare breasts scraping tightly against his chest as she wraps her arms around his neck desperately needing him to be closer than they already were.

She whines softly into the kiss as she swipes her tongue over Michael’s bottom lip. Michael moans in response, parting his lips open to let her gain access and she seizes the opportunity to dance her tongue against his own. Michael furrows his brows in concentration, taking mental notes on how exactly she liked to be kissed by the way he strokes his tongue synchronously with hers and the soft little moans that follow out of her lips.

She pulls away, a hint of chocolate and mint lingering on her lips, as she yearns for more of him between her legs. She almost wants to continue kissing him as she watches Michael’s blue eyes slowly flutter open and his lower lip curling into a pout, mewling at the loss of contact.

“We can kiss more after, if you want. Right now, I need you to return the favor” She pants, out of breath. Michael mends his pout into an eager smile that makes her chuckle. For such an arrogant know-it-all he sure had a way of being cute.

She lifts herself up by the help of Michael’s shoulders, crawling over the middle of her bed to rest her back against the duvet. “Ready?” She asks, wiggling her brows enthusiastically, already feeling giddy deep in her stomach.

Michael nods as he slowly adjusted to sit between her legs, his curious eyes never leaving her damp covered center, his pink tongue sweeping over his lips quickly practically already tasting her.

“Take of my panties, Gavey”

She hears Michael audibly whimper as his quivering fingers hook to the waistband of her underwear, sliding it off and causing her to release a shudder over the coolness of his fingertips.

Michael brushed his fingers against the garment of her underwear, studying it before he brought it to his nose, deeply inhaling the juices that were caused by being in the mere presence of him, from having him inside her mouth, around her hands, his kiss…

There was something so hot and erotic about it, seeing the guy who always picks on her for not being as smart as he was, sniffing her juices like he was a starved man. She moaned at his actions even more so when he quickly bent over the bed and stuffed her underwear into one of the pockets of his cargo shorts, probably saving it for later.

She bites back a protest. Those were her favorite pair but she supposes she can spare them for now.

Michael resumed his previous position in between her thighs. This time his face laid just centimeters away from her glistening core. She can feel his hot ragged breath fanning over the little patch of curls above her cunt, and very faintly she can hear Michael murmur “christ” under his breath.

She props herself on her elbows, “Give me your hand” Michael releases another shaky breath before he allows her to direct his hand to cup her mound.

“Do you feel how wet I am for you, Michael?”

Michael groans, desperate for some friction he grinds his cock on the bed. He can feel it. He can feel his hand soaked with her arousal. Michael wants to pull back and lick everybit clean off his hand.

“That’s- that’s my clit” She informs Michael with a strain voice as she runs his index finger through her folds. Michael stares at her engorged bud, having remembered studying it from his anatomy class and how it brought him great curiosity. Now, he was face to face with it and nothing could prepare how much excitement it brought him.

“The clit is very important. It’s where most of our pleasure comes from. Just pay adequate attention to it and gently circle it-”

She isn’t sure of the noises that leave her mouth, only feeling Michael beginning to circle her bud in a manner where not even most guys she’s been with have done so. It’s unhurried, unsure and gentle but it’s enough for her to feel waves of pleasure up her spine and her toes curling against the duvet.

“Oh! Michael” She moans, arching her back and unintentionally caging Michael’s head between her thighs.

Michael pulls his finger quickly like lightning away from her bud, his face showing a bit of concern. “What? What’s wrong? Was this not to your liking? I can try-”

“No, no. You’re doing great, really. I-I just, well, I like it and I meant it in a good way” She reassures him with a smile, a slight warmth shoots to her cheeks.

God, was she blushing at Michael fucking Gavey? Fuck. This wasn’t supposed to be part of the plan or the agreement!

“Oh, I see” Michael smirks before lowering his head, “Can I use my tongue?” She almost wants to desperately scream ‘YES’ and grind herself against his face but she instead nods and that was enough of a response for Michael as he flattens the tip of his tongue where her clit was.

Her back arches again, instinctively, feeling Michael’s tongue circle her bud and sweep through her folds all while he keeps his lustful gaze on her, watching the way her face contorts into different forms of pleasure and the audible moans and gasps he hears when he flicks his tongue in a rhythm he notes she likes.

Michael soon also finds himself moaning at the way she tastes. It was a flavor so sweet. Sweeter than the chocolate of his crunchy bars he so religiously ate. How could he ever tire of her taste?

Her chest begins to heave, her stomach feeling fuzzy and tight. She was nearing her first orgasm in weeks.

But then suddenly something unexpected happens. Michael hooks her thighs under his arms, bringing her cunt closer to his face. His red and swollen lips closed in around her clit, tenderly sucking. His actions along with the vibrations of his moans, sends hot shocks of pleasure that she feels the band in her stomach about to snap.

“Michaelllll. I’m about to-to cum” She cries, feeling orgasm seconds away from releasing.

“Really?” Michael mumbles with an exciting look in his eyes. She hums, her hands no longer fisting the duvet but instead gripping Michael’s hair.

Michael continues to lap at her core at the same rhythm he notices she likes, working his tongue quicker until he feels the meaty flesh of her thighs close in on his head and tremble.

“Michael! Yes! Yes!!!” She chants so loudly that both her and Michael know everyone in the dorm floor would listen. She couldn’t bring herself to care about everyone listening. The genius math nerd in all of Oxford just gave her the best head in the world.

Michael drinks in her release and this time he is able to pinpoint what flavor she reminds him of.

Honey.

She mewls softly. Her body feels weak and tired like she had just ran the longest marathon in her life. “So good, Michael. You did such a good job” She praises, giving the cunt-drunk man between her thighs a lazy smile as she brushes the damp hair away from his face.

A blush creeps into Michael’s cheeks, a sense of pride fills his senses. He knows he wants more now that she let him taste her. Michael supposes she could give him another taste to satisfy his hunger. She was right there for the taking. Why not?

“What are you doing?” She curiously asks, peering over as Michael dips his head again making her eyes widen in amazement.

“Michael, wait. We agreed just… Oh fuck!” Her back arches, hands gripping her breasts and a series of gasps leave her lips as Michael redoubles his efforts and works his tongue at an incredible speed that makes tears leave the corners of her eyes over the sensitivity.

Michael was getting skilled at this. Too skilled with tongue.

The thin metal of Michael’s glasses dug at her thighs, his face tightly pressed at her core as he growled devotedly. Had she just accidentally created a feral animal? Fuck.

This time she feels herself ascending closer to her peak more than usual. Her legs involuntarily begin to tremble and her mind feels fuzzy as she has no more strength to fight the waves of pleasure Michael was awarding.

“Michael” She cries, unsure why.

Michael, however, lost in his pleasure instinctively comes up with an idea. He unhooks one of his hands around her thigh and brings one of his fingers toward her entrance, plunging inside her walls in and out and curses at the way she clenches around his finger.

“No, no, no. Stay” Michael mumbles as her hips buckle away from his ministrations.

This was all getting too much for her. But she does what she’s told and stays and her body violently trembles one last time until she feels the pressure deep in her belly explode and her vision going absolutely blank.

Has she died and gone to heaven? Cause fuck!

She doesn’t seem to remember how to breathe or pick up the surprise yelps from Michael. She was absolutely drained and spent.

“Are-are you okay down there?” She asks, panting, gathering whatever strength she had left to peer down between her thighs. Michael’s round blue eyes look up at her in shock. His face, coated with much of her juices. Even his glasses had not been spared. A palm sized wet patch soaked her bedding.

Did Michael fucking Gavey make me squirt?

“I’m sorry that's the first time that ever happened to me. Wait here, let me get a towel to clean you up” She stammers as she begins to crawl out of her bed but Michael’s hand wraps around her ankle, preventing her.

“No need. I quite liked it” He blinks as cleans his face with his fingers, licking away her arousal like the embarrassing thing she did not happen.

He plops himself next to her on the bed, landing with a heavy thud. “So” Michael trails with a smirk, his head resting on his elbow. “Did I earn my reward?”

She scoffs playfully. How could she forget their deal?

She was walking to her class earlier on the day when she spotted Michael pouding and cursing at a vending machine for eating the last cash he had on him. She evilly laughed at him before she nonchalantly walked over to the vending machine and purchased the last two crunchy bars while waving it on his face. Truthfully, she did not find chocolate as pleasing as he did. Michael had scoffed before he followed her like a lost puppy, telling her he’d pay her back the next day. A wicked plan forged inside her head in a way he could pay her back.

“Here” She slams the two golden bars against his chest after she retrieved them from her bag. Michael smiles and mutters a ‘thanks’ as he unwraps his treat and brings her body to rest against his chest.

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monsterfuker3000 · 2 months

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You Call the Shots, Babe ༺♡༻

Hi kittens, mommy’s had a rough one and that’s why it’s been since October since I published anything lol. My now-ex boyfriend broke up with me and it thrust me head first into my man-hating era and I couldn’t write to save my life. I’m not happy with this fic but I had to publish SOMETHING bc it’s been rotting in my WIP folder forever. Enjoy, my stinkies 🩷

WARNINGS: p in v sex, perv!Leon, unprotected sex, mentions of male masturbation, a lil bit of footjob action/very light CBT, Leon is a two pump chump I’m sorry, creampie as always, uhhh you degrade him and stuff but he’s Leon so he gets off to that, idk RE2R Leon strikes me as a panty thief who would get off on being told he’s a pervert so that’s what I wrote lol

Word count: 3k words of Leon being a perv

“Leon?” you called.

“Yes?”

“Why do you have my fucking panties?”

Movie night with Leon was always unnecessarily complicated. It very nearly felt like it took him hours to get settled; he needed the right snacks for the two of you, the right drinks, the right comfy clothes, the right movie. If he put much more effort into every movie night, it would start to feel like a date. Not that he’d mind that.

You, however, seemed like you would mind. He had tried like hell to hint to you that he wanted something more than friendship; brushing his hand against yours whenever he could, resting his hand at the small of your back in a manner that was much more than friendly, letting his gazes linger a bit longer than they needed to. But you? Dear, distant, unmovable you? Never once reciprocated his affections. Leon was desperate for you.

That’s why the movie nights came about; they were the closest Leon could get to a date night, and by God did he push the envelope. He’d spend every movie night with an arm around your shoulder, both of you under the same blanket. He’d behave himself, keep his hand a where they belonged, but all the while he’d have to try like hell to conceal the hard-on he’d be sporting every time. He felt pathetic, jerking off to the thought of you every night after you’d leave. That’s when he started stealing your panties.

It started out with just one pair he’d seen discarded on top of your hamper in your room, too careless to hide it before he came over. He’d snuck them into his pocket, vowing to himself they he would return them the next time he was at your place. Only he didn’t return them, and he did do it again.

He jumped at every chance to spend time at your place instead of his, sneaking another pair from you nearly every time. You had to be wondering where they kept going, but as long as his operation was still going off without a hitch, he was going to keep stealing them.

Then came the hitch.

You had come over for the aforementioned movie night, barging in after work without knocking like you owned the place, not that Leon minded.

“Lee!” You whined, “It’s cold out! How come you have to live so far from where I work?” You continued your lament as you kicked off your shoes by the door and walked further into the apartment toward the kitchen. Leon poked his head out from the doorway, pointing to his bedroom door.

“Go grab one of my hoodies or something if you’re cold, I’m making popcorn, so help yourself!” He busied himself with the popcorn once again as he heard you turn and walk toward his room, thanking him as you walked away.

“Leon?” you called.

“Yes?”

“Why do you have my fucking panties?”

His heart immediately dropped into his stomach, remembering just how many pairs of your used panties were tucked away in his drawer. The volume and variety would have been impressive if he didn’t feel downright creepy.

He slunk towards his room like a child expecting to be scolded, and his face reddened when he stepped into the doorway. You had your arms crossed, one of his favorite pairs of your panties dangling from one finger

It was a little baby-pink number; cotton, his favorite, with delicate lace around waistband that he couldn’t get enough of. Memories flashed through his head of just what perverted things he’d done with the scraps of cloth spilling out of the drawer you’d apparently yanked open.

He loved to jerk off with them wrapped around his cock, eyes closed and head falling back, sometimes with another pair pressed to his nose to inhale your scent. The worst thing he did, however, embarrassed even him; he loved to jerk off directly into the crotch of your panties, imagining that the reason they were covered in his cum was because it had spilled out of you. This was his favorite of all of his dirty fantasies about you, and imagining that the panties in his hand were soiled because you’d finally let him fuck you would often make him have to touch himself a second time.

“I saw these sticking out of your drawer, and I thought they looked familiar,” you said flatly.

He forced himself to return to the present at your words, fidgeting a bit to try to hide the half-chub that refused to go down even in the face of such profound shame. You cocked an eyebrow, looking all too relaxed given the situation the two of you were in.

“I asked you a question, Leon,” you reminded him. “Why do you have so many pairs of my panties? And I know theyre mine, don’t try to tell me they aren’t,’ you added, effectively crushing to death the only chance at redemption he thought he might have.

“Um, well. . .” He trailed off immediately, completely unable to tear his eyes away from the panties swinging from your hand, not sure how he was going to get out of this one. “I don’t- I. . . It’s beacuse-“

“I know why you have them,” you cut him off, his eyes finally snapping up to meet yours before the embarrassment made him duck away again. “It’s because youre a fucking pervert.”

His heart dropped; this was it. You were disgusted with him, you were going to leave his apartment and never come back, you were going to tell everyone you knew that he was a disgusting panty thief, never to be trusted. However, there was no hiding the full-blown hard-on he was now sporting, thanks to the insult. His face reddened more, if that was even possible. Your eyes flicked down to his crotch, and the scowl you’d been wearing slowly turned into a smirk.

“I’m so sorry, I-“ he began, but you cut him off yet again.

“You’re not sorry you did it,” you salked toward him. “You’re sorry you got caught.’ You were right on the money, as usual, but before Leon could even try to get a word in edgewise, you spoke again. “I think you need to be punished.”

What?

His confusion must have been clear on his face, because you continued.

“What, cat got your tongue?” You teased. “Take your pants off, Leon,” you said. It very obviously wasnt a request.

This felt like a trap to Leon, but he figured things couldn’t get any worse, and so help him he was going to do whatever you asked of him in the hopes it might smooth things over. He cleared his throat, reaching for the drawstring of his sweatpants as you began to slowly circle around him. He felt very much like a cornered animal.

“O-okay,” he finally spoke, albeit haltingly as he slowly pulled at the tie on his pants.

“Tell me, Lee, what have you been doing with all the panties you’ve been stealing, hm? Be specific. And hurry up with your pants, I don’t like waiting when im already impatient.”

God, what were you going to do to him? He tried like hell not to very his hopes up, but he hoped to God this was going to end well for him.

“W-well,” he began, sliding his pants off as he spoke, nervous but still eager to find out what was going to happen next. “I mean, I jack off with them. . .” He trailed off, clearly not wanting to be any more forthcoming than that. He chanced a look at your face again, hoping what little he told you was sufficient, but of course not.

“Tell me more, Lee. And look at me when you do it,” you added. He swallowed hard, fighting to keep his eyes on you while he spoke.

“I wrap them around. . . Around my cock and I, well, I jack off with them, ‘nd then I. . .” He trailed off yet again, cheeks burning bright red, afraid to try your patience but far too embarrassed to get it all out at once. He took a deep breath. “And I like to. . . To finish in the crotch,’ he finally finished.

“Why?” You asked simply. He wasnt prepared to answer that one. He cleared his throat again, and mumbled something, turning away. “Come again?” You asked. He huffed out a breath and looked back up at you, tears very nearly welling up in his eyes from the humiliation but still hard as a rock.

“I said I like to imagine theyre filled with my cum because you put them back on after I fucked you!” He nearly yelled, frustrated with the interrogation. A few embarrassed tears he hadn’t even noticed finally spilled from his eyes and he wiped them away roughly with his sleeve, knowing he had no right to cry.

“I figured,” you replied flatly. How were you staying so calm about this? You’d just found out your best friend had been stealing your panties for the past few months! Leon opened his mouth to ask you just this, but you moved lighting-quick, stuffing the panties into his open mouth and covering it with your hand, swatting away hips hands when he instinctively reached up to push you away.

Holy shit. You just stuffed your panties in his mouth.

“Kneel,” you told him, and his knees were on the floor without a second’s hesitation, placing his hands down on the tops of his thighs. You walked around him, adding the instruction to be careful not to spit them out, and he could hear you once again digging around in the drawer behind him. you gasped behind him, reaching out from behind him to range another pair inches from his nose before snatching it back.

“Leon, these are my favorite!” You cried indignantly. “I’ve been looking for them forever, you pervert,’ you added. God, there was that word again. It absolutely shouldn’t have made his cock twitch in his boxers, but it did anyway. “Hands behind your back,” you instructed him, and he obeyed, wondering what you had in mind. His eyes widened when he felt you twist that second pair of panties around his wrists, essentially improvising a pair of handcuffs. You walked around him again to stand in front of him, and he looked up at you expectantly, tears long-dried. “Try not to rip those, I like them,” you said simply, before sitting on his bed and pressing your socked foot to his crotch without another warning.

He cried out as best he could with a mouthful of your panties, nearly doubling over from the sensation. You were pressing harder than should have been pleasurable, but between how wound up you had him and how long he’d wanted you to touch his cock, he was still in heaven. As you slid your foot up his cock, he wished with everything in him that he didn’t still have his boxers on; that he could feel the friction and not just the pressure, delicious as it was. You leaned back, surveying your work, all the while still working your foot up and down his cock.

“You like that, Leon?” You teased, propped up on your hands. Of course he liked that. Of course you knew he liked that, but how could you not tease him like this?

Your curled your toes gently over the head of his cock, squeezing a bit with your toes. He was sensitive, so fucking sensitive, and he bucked up into your touch with another muffled cry.

“Ah-ah,” you admonished him. “I didn’t say you could move.”

Leon whined again at this, worried you were going to stop touching him, but far too afraid of that prospect to do anything about it.

Instead of withdrawing your foot Ike he expected, you pressed the ball of your foot against his cock, hard. You meant this as a punishment, of course, but poor Leon was so very on edge that he came in his boxers, shaking as he dampened the crotch of them along with your foot.

“Leon. . .” You sighed with a deep frown, one that would have made his heart clench had all his blood not been allocated elsewhere. “You really are a pervert,” you scolded. God, there was that word again. Leon knew at this point that this was all a game, but he couldn’t help the way that word made him feel. Pathetic. Dirty. Unbelievably horny.

You stood, looming over him as he looked up at you with wide eyes.

“I was worried about the rest of my plans for you, but it looks like youre still hard,” you remarked, nudging his overly sensitive cock with your foot and pulling a surprised yelp from him. To his shock, you unbuttoned your pants and slid them off along with your panties all in one go. The way his eyes flicked over to the panties you discarded to the side wasnt lost on you.

“Don’t be greedy, Leon. You have more than enough,” you teased. You knelt on the ground in front of him, pushing against his chest and knocking him off balance to sit flat on the floor with his back to his dresser, hands still bound behind him with your panties. You straddled him, hovering over his cock so close that he could feel the heat and wetness of your pussy. He didn’t dare move after what happened last time.

You decided to grant him just a little relief, using your hand to slide his cock shallowly through your folds, Upand down, up and down. His head hit the dresser behind him with a thunk, a deep groan tearing itself from his throat. Then finally, fucking finally, you slid down onto his cock, taking him to the hilt.

He tore his eyes away from the ceiling, and they nearly popped out of his head as he took in the sight in front of him. His cock had completely disappeared inside of you, your clit resting against his pelvis. He was mesmerized for just a moment before you lifted your hips and slammed them back down, earning another muffled shout from him as his head hit the dresser again.

You began a brutal pace right off the bat, the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, along with your moans; yours were completely unbridled, his were still dampened by the panties he absolutely wasnt spitting out.

You reached up to place a hand against his cheek, patting it softly before pulling your hand back and delivering an earnest slap. It took him by surprise and he bucked into you again, but you seemed to let that transgression slide. You squeezed his cheeks with one hand, forcing him to look at you.

“Fucking disgusting, Leon. I should spit in your face for stealing and doing such nasty shit with my things,” you said through gritted teeth, hips still rolling against him. God, he was going to cum way too soon again. Sweat rolled down the side of his face with the effort he was exerting trying to hold off his orgasm.

“‘M gonna cum,” you moaned, and it was like he saw the light at the end of the tunnel. “You wanna cum in me Leon? You wanna fill me up with your cum? Of course you do, you fucking sicko,” and Leon knew he had just seconds.

Finally, with a last, particularly strong roll of your hips, you came. As your pussy pulsed around him, Leon came as well, filling you with his cum and thrusting up into you in earnest now, though he was too fucked-out to notice and correct himself.

As soon as your breathing evened a bit, you stood abruptly, the friction against Leon’s softening cock startling him along with the overstimulation. You hooked the panties in his mouth with your finger to yank them out and he choked a bit, his mouth dry. He was speechless as you shook out the slightly damp panties and slid them on with a snap of the waistband.

You bent over in front of him, showing him that the thin gusset of the panties was wet enough with his spit that it had gone slightly translucent. He could see your pussy lips through the wet fabric, and nearly passed out when he watched the wet patch spread as his cum began to spill out of you and onto the panties, just like he’d jacked off to so many times. If he wasn’t so mindful of not wanting to rip the panties that were still wrapped around his wrists, he probably would have pulled you toward him to fill you up with even more of his cum.

You walked around behind him to untangle him and free his arms. As soon as you did though, his hair stood on end remembering what he’d been caught with earlier. He whirled around, still on his knees to look up at you with big, pleading blue eyes.

“I’m so, so sorry, I know it’s gross that I was taking your panties-“

“Leon,” you interrupted him. “Why do you think my used panties were always on the top of my hamper? No girl would leave her panties visible like that if she knows someone is coming over. I wanted you to find them.” You turned and walked out toward the kitchen before turning back to him and seeing his jaw practically on the ground again. “You might wanna check on your popcorn, Lee.”

I’m on twelve Vicodins smoking on Scooby-Doo dick

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #re4 leon #leon kennedy reader #re leon #resident evil leon #resident evil 2 #resident evil 4 #resident evil #resident evil fanfiction #leon kennedy fanfic #leonkennedyfanfiction #re2 #re2 leon #Spotify

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miyaur · 1 year

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⟢ IF AND/OR WHEN ft. genshin men being single dads

・synopsis. his kid's teacher, who decided to stay with them 'till he came back from a late shift at his job, and to his surprise, the teacher was kind of cute. a kindergarten teacher, actually no, his kid's favorite teacher, man what would his kid think if you suddenly became their parent, but getting to know you a bit is.. well, it doesn't sound too bad.

・notes. thank you to that one post about ayato falling in love w his daughter's teacher, thank u sm, i got 7 wips in my drafts, thank you though guys im happy to write any ask you guys give me honestly!! day III: the voices are getting to me im contemplating whether i should write also ab how they fuck in the next room to their kid's room STOP. maybe another fic for another day... MAYBE day IV: i gave in im already start on writing ab it.

・warnings. suggestive, overall tooth-rotting fluff!, kinda places in modern au, they is usually reffered to the kid, reader is still gn!, oh also with a few scenarios bc how is it one of my writings without scenarios

a busy dad who got to see their kid after a small break, and finds you. — ayato, al haitham, gorou, diluc, childe/tartaglia, kaveh

・he just happened to be given a few days off, other than weekends, he could see his kid. even so by ordering the person who usually picks the kid up for them to not for a few days, because he would instead. as he arrived at the kindergarten, the dismissal area was definitely filled with kids of all kinds, running to their parents, he searched the room for his bundle of joy, just to see them with a special someone; you. he knows his kid was in good hands, as soon as he sees you helping them with an activity that was being done earlier, waiting for their parent to arrive, you look behind to see a well-dressed man, looking down to you and his kid. while you stand up to introduce yourself to him, all the kid could do was cling to their father's leg, finally getting to see him on any day but a weekend, and with their favorite teacher? they were more than happy! watching their 2 most favorite people get along was the best! not to mention the subtle blush on both your cheeks as you both talked, gives his number through "maybe my kid might need help later :)". as soon as he gets home and has dinner with his kid, you won't go away from his mind, the still picture of your smile after he made a joke the first meeting you both had, how could he concentrate on any work this week if that's what's really stuck on his mind.

dedicated dad to his kid: while picking up his giddy kid from kindergarten, he wonders why, and he sees a newly-hired teacher. a really cute one that is. — zhongli, kaeya, diluc, aether, gorou, thoma, childe/tartaglia, arataki itto, tighnari

・as his kid ran up to their father, almost attaching themselves onto him, he looked up to see the most jaw-dropping, ethereal, elegant, graceful, charming, beauty he's ever laid his eyes on trying to talk to him about his kid's amazing performance in class. honestly he's never seen his kid happier when you told them so, a perfect score in their quiz?! oh you're so proud of them!! even handing them their favorite chocolate/candy bar!! you were so breathtaking to him, and almost like another parent to his child, it made his heart bloom, what if you became his actual other parent, hey he's just thinking out loud... anyways, stroke a conversation with you, probably used a cheesy pickup line to get your number, plus points if you love funny guys (every1 does), experienced love at first sight immediately, thinks you are an amazing person for choosing your job as teaching too, must be quite hard too, his kid can be hard to discipline sometimes too, and multiply that by 20? damn, you must have a lot of patience. getting to talk to you and getting your number, on the same day? man this day must be a blessing from the archons! because it feels like he met the love of his life, and he truly did.

as his kid begged for him to go pick him up at school instead, he meets his kid's 2nd favorite person, you just might become his 2nd favorite too. — albedo, xiao, wanderer/scaramouche, cyno, al haitham

・not that he didn't wanna pick up his kid, but he was definitely busy, and that early morning that they had to go to school was when they wanted him to pick them up instead of the maids around the house. their reasoning was that other kids were making fun how their real dad doesn't wanna pick them up because 'he left', but they knew otherwise, a work-at-home dad yet somehow piled with paperwork and goes to work on weekends, it's like he isn't even trying to care for them, so to prove those bullies they were wrong, they wanted their dad to come, just even that one time. as he approached the kindergarten classroom, he peeked inside to see his child holding another adult's hand and telling them about what happened about their day while waiting for to come get them, he was by far the most fascinated with you, it's like you had bond almost stronger than he and his kid had, when he went to talk to you while picking up the kid, almost just sleeping in his arms, and decided to introduce himself to you, since the little chaos ensuer in his hands seemed to love you so much, and honestly you two had more in common than he thought, so much so he got your number, handing a coffee to you, saying "coffee date sometime if you're free, call me XXXX-XXX-XXX." on the sticky note, you ended calling him, and he was more than excited for your date, but he obviously wants to take it slow, and doesn't wanna rush anything between you two at all. is more than grateful that his little angel asked him to pick him up even just once.

responsibly affectionate dad — zhongli, diluc, childe/tartaglia, thoma, dainsleif

chaotic good & super thoughtful dad — arataki itto, venti, childe/tartaglia

lowkey motherlike (overly nurturing & affectionate) — mika, aether, kazuha, childe/tartaglia, diluc

can't cook so him and his kid have been living on eggs, hotdog, rice, and instant noodles for 2 weeks obviously not forever.. — arataki itto, kazuha, venti, heizou

24/7 teasing, but when you tease him back he gets blushy (the kid thinks its cheesy and will say ew) — heizou, childe/tartaglia, kaeya, scaramouche/wanderer, cyno

you guys kiss when he goes to pick you both up from the school bc afterwards you have nothing to do cuz ur a kindergarten teacher (whipee!!), kid will cover her eyes, goodnight thanks 4 listening to my ted talk

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fiveht · 1 month

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Proof of life (Adore pt 3)

Hello my sweet angel babies ♥️

I'm not going to be able to adequately express my gratitude for the steady stream of love (and concern, sorry) I've been receiving over the past couple of months. I'm so sorry I've been AWOL, it will definitely happen again. Because see, for me, I usually have to make a choice between social and creative fandom participation. My battery is small, and takes a long time to charge.

Thank you to everyone who's left comments and asks and DMs since I've been gone. I don't think I can respond to all of it, but rest assured those messages ping my cold, dead heart every time I see them.

So I'm gonna go out on a limb here. I did this same thing months and months ago, when I was working on Head Over Feet, and let me be clear: posting even a single word of a WIP goes against my every instinct and principle as an author. I am someone who likes to finish an entire story before I post any of it, and on top of that, I am NOT a fast writer, so the expectations that I'm setting up here might not be advisable. But I did it before and managed to finish the thing, and I want to give you guys something in exchange for being so unbelievably awesome, so here I am again.

This will probably be the only time I mention this story in public until it's finished and posted, and inquiries about my progress are unlikely to help with the writing process, I'm just saying. I reserve the right to change every last word of this before the final draft, and I also reserve the right to fall off the face of the planet and simply never finish it, as much as I will strive to prevent that from happening. Please be patient with me.

Anyway, here is my paltry offering to say thanks for the love: the (VERY rough) first ~1300 words of the third instalment of The Adventures of Soft Daddy and Danger Twink.

Sirius secures his handheld shower head to its holder at the edge of his clawfoot tub, and steps out carefully onto the bathmat. He shivers in the cool air outside the shower curtain; it's about twenty degrees below zero outside, so even if he could afford to run his ancient radiator at full blast, it probably wouldn't help much.

He dries himself off and checks his reflection in the mirror, turning his face this way and that as he tugs his hair out of the bun he'd piled it into to keep it dry during his shower. There's no need for makeup tonight, not when he's not even planning to put on clothes.

It's incrementally warmer when he steps out into the main room of his apartment. He gathers an array of splayed text books and notes from his bed and dumps them carelessly onto the couch, then closes his new laptop and places it delicately on the coffee table. It's the most expensive thing he owns, save for the Gucci backpack currently sitting in his wardrobe with a three-inch berth around it like his shoes and other bags might somehow contaminate it. It's weird owning rich-people stuff when you are still, objectively, broke as fuck.

He perches on the edge of his bed and sets his phone to charge, because his battery doesn't even last a day anymore, and he's going to need it this evening. He tucks it in next to his pillow and picks up his new toy.

The plug isn't much larger than the one he already has. A little longer, which is appealing, but no wider, so it shouldn't be a challenge to get it in comfortably. He disconnects it from its charger and hefts it in his hand, feeling the added weight from the electronics inside.

He picks up his phone, and hesitates when he sees the notification waiting for him.

Rieka: let's go out tomorrow

Rieka: the fact that we haven't been drunk since the term started is criminal

Rieka: we've had two chem labs and zero drinks

Sirius purses his lips, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. There's a fine line here, and he hasn't quite found it yet.

Me: got plans

Me: raincheck?

So complete avoidance is the best strategy, right?

Rieka: booooo 👎

He sighs, but at least she's not asking for an explanation. He opens a different conversation then, pushing all thoughts of Rieka Lupin into a tidy, sealed compartment, not to be opened during certain activities with a certain relative of hers.

Me: i'm ready

Me: are you in your office?

Daddy: Yup, I've got a few minutes

Daddy: Want me to call?

Instead of answering, Sirius hits the call button himself.

"Hey baby," Remus answers. His voice is already smooth and honey-sweet, and just from that, Sirius knows he's planning to lay it on thick tonight.

"Hi daddy," Sirius says with a smile. "Should I put it in now?"

There's a low chuckle over the line. "Are we feeling eager?"

"Always," Sirius says, laying back on his bed.

"Use the good lube I got you, it's gonna be in there a while."

He switches the call to speaker, and snags the bottle from his nightstand. "I threw out the old stuff, you've got me ruined for cheap lube."

"Only the best for that ass," Remus says, and Sirius can hear his smirk.

He gives the plug a liberal coating, running his fingers along its shape, his dick twitching just at the feel of the silky-smooth silicone, at the anticipation of what's about to happen. He spreads his legs wide, drawing one knee up to give himself easier access.

"Take it slow," Remus says, succinctly heading off Sirius' impulse to just shove the thing inside himself in one go. "Rub the tip against yourself, so you're nice and wet."

Sirius shuts his eyes as he obeys, sliding the slick end of the toy over his entrance. "Okay."

"Are you going to be a good boy for daddy tonight?"

"Uh-huh," Sirius says, teasing the very tip of the plug in and out of his hole.

"Tell me how."

"I'm not gonna touch."

"You're not gonna touch, and you're not gonna come."

"Yeah," Sirius says. His cock is starting to harden as his body tries to draw the plug inside. "Can I put it in, daddy?"

"Slow," Remus reminds him, "Slide it in nice and slow for me, baby."

Sirius catches his lip between his teeth and tries to push the plug in slowly, the way he knows Remus would do if he was here.

The shower has left him relaxed and more than ready, and it's hard not to take advantage, just press the toy in to its limit because he can. But he's working on his patience -- under Remus' careful tutelage -- so he shuts his eyes and tries to savour it, the tease of the plug's rubber tip at his entrance, the slow stretch as he eases it past the slight resistance before he sighs, and his body eagerly accepts the intrusion.

"Mmmm," Sirius sighs as he settles the base of the plug flush against his entrance, shifting his hips and feeling the constant, dull pressure against his prostate.

"How's it feel?"

"Good," Sirius says, splaying his legs out and just enjoying the pleasant fullness. It's been almost a week since Remus last fucked him, and that's just way too long. Christmas really spoiled him. He tugs the blankets up around him, because it's going to take some time before his body temperature is high enough to fight against the chill in his apartment.

"Have you tried out the settings at all?" Remus asks him, and Sirius picks up the phone, switching off speaker and holding it to his ear.

"No," he says, grinding his ass down against the bed to test the plug's reach inside him. "I thought you'd rather do the honours."

Remus hums, and Sirius hears the phone shifting in his grip. "I'm gonna turn it on, okay? Lowest setting."

"O--" Sirius stutters as the plug buzzes to life inside him, nestled snug against his prostate and sending little zings of pleasure down his legs. "Fuck that feels good. That's the lowest setting?"

"It is," Remus confirms. "Want to run through them all, see how high it goes? Or would you rather be surprised?"

"Mmmm, surprise me."

"Surprise it is," Remus says, and Sirius hears shuffling papers in the background as he prepares for his night class. Psychology 1001, Thursdays, 7-9:30PM. Two and a half hours of a lecture that Remus swears he's given so many times he could recite it in his sleep, so why not give himself something fun to focus on while he goes through the motions?

Being privy to all of this brilliant, upstanding man's secret perversions is a privilege Sirius does not take lightly.

"You can turn it off from the app if you need to," Remus is saying, "Or you can call me and I'll switch it off. My phone's on vibrate, so I'll see it right away."

Sirius smiles to himself. "Got it," he says, though this is a rehashing of the rules that Remus had laid out when he'd brought the plug over last weekend. He'd called it a "late Christmas gift", as if he hadn't already given Sirius several thousand dollars worth of presents on Christmas morning.

There's more rustling over the line, the squeak of a chair.

"Tell me again how you're going to be good tonight."

"I'm not gonna touch myself, and I'm not gonna come." The toy is still buzzing away inside him, making everything a little fuzzy at the edges.

"Tell me why."

"'Cause daddy's in charge, even when he's not here."

"Good boy."

Sirius squirms with pleasure, his cock smearing a little drop of fluid on his belly as the toy hums insistently at his prostate.

"I have to head out," Remus says. "How do you feel?"

"Good," Sirius says, his abs tensing as he shifts his legs and the angle of the toy changes. "Excited."

"Me too," Remus says softly. "I'll talk to you soon, beautiful. Send me some pictures." With a low beep, the call disconnects.

#and i disappear into the night once again #turned off anon asks for the time being #sorry i love you guys i'm just awkward

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months

Text

Dirty Work 14

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: Pretty sure I'm getting another sinus infection.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You realise a little too late that you have no idea if you should do more than pour the brew into a mug. You recall Frigga mentioned Mr. Laufeyson took his tea black but was it the same for coffee? You never drink it so you wouldn't know better. You hate to presume.

So you find a small tray, setting the mug on it with the dish of sugar and a little porcelain milk urn. You balance is all and climb the staircase tremulously, the task made heavier by the dread nipping at your ears.

You come down the hall and stop before the study door. Your hands are occupied so you gentle tap with your toe. Without an answer, you try again. Still, you're met with only silence.

"Mr. Laufeyson?" You call through, "I have your coffee--"

The door a few feet down opens instead and you turn to face the dour occupant. Mr. Laufeyson beckons you wordlessly with a curt gesture before he disappears behind the door frame. You follow as you let a breath slowly out your nose. Inside, he sits at the writing desk, the laptop open as he tilts his head at it. He has your notes open, shamelessly perusing your reminders.

"Here you are, Mr. Laufeyson," you put the tray on the desk.

"There we are," he accepts tersely and sits back, swiping up the paper from atop the gold and white folder. He eyes the estimate left by the carpenter with your signature at the bottom. "So, what are we to do about that infernal thing?"

You fold your hands and wait for his answer. You realise he does not want one from you. He sniffs and slips the paper over the keyboard, letting it drift slightly over the edge. He sits back and look at you.

"It is the last of your worries, surely," he says flippantly, "firstly, this..." he taps the laptop, "you leave it here. As if you do not care."

You purse your lips. You won't argue. If he wants you to take it home, certainly you can, but you don't have wifi or a need for it beyond these walls.

"What if something should happen? You would want to have access to all your..." he eyes the screen, "clutter."

"Yes, Mr. Laufeyson. Noted."

"Noted?" He scoffs and unfolds his arms, "right."

He moves the paper back to the folder and types swiftly, much quicker than your chicken pecking. He sits back proudly and once more sets his sights on you. You clutch your hands tighter and await further remonstrance. This is his vengeance. You can't help but feel you deserve it.

He reaches for the mug, disregarding the milk and sugar, and blows over it. He watches you as he sips.

"Mm," he considers the double-walled cup, "bit strong..."

"Mr. Laufeyson, I could try again--"

"It'll do," he dismisses, "as I said, other concerns. And as I also said, several times, and how you know I do hate to repeat myself, this..." he points at you, flicking his finger up and down, "attire."

You look down at yourself and shrug. The clothes aren't that bad, only plain. Maybe not to his standard but you don't see how they're so wrong.

"Mr. Laufeyson, I don't know--"

"You don't know much, do you?" He challenges, "well, you better catch up."

He pauses to take another sip, cheeks straining as his throat tightens. He can barely choke down the coffee, making you feel even worse. Is it that bad?

"Are you not curious why I've returned early?" He sets the mug down as he leans forward.

You're quiet. It's not that you don't care, you just wouldn't dare ask. Not after last night, you wouldn't want to bring up bad feelings.

"I see you had my return marked in your calendar," he continues, "I suppose I spoiled your plans, hm?"

"No, Mr. Laufeyson," you assure him.

"So you are happy for my return?"

Your cheek twitches. It's an odd question. One that has no right answer. A trick.

"If you're happy, Mr. Laufeyson, then I am too."

He seems surprised by your answer as his brows arch and his lips part slightly. He closes his mouth and narrows his eyes as he watches you. He chortles and stands.

"How..." he struggles to find a word, "foolish."

You're struck equally by his response. The threat that underlines it and the rebuke in his tone. You dip your head down.

"Call the carpenter," he orders as he retrieves the bill, "I'll sign off on the repairs."

He struts by you as you stare at the tray and his unfinished coffee. Another to-do: you'll have to figure out that machine.

🧹

It isn't until you sit down to work that you realise the door is still open. The one adjoining the library to Mr. Laufeyson's study. You can hear the subtle tap of keys as he sets to work. You hunker down to do the same, overly mindful of each little noise.

You'll make your call to Ronan elsewhere so you don't disturb the silence. You go through your list, marking down what can be done today in your phone. You get up and slowly move towards the door.

"Sneaking off? You are so good at creeping around? Like a little cat," Laufeyson intones before you can let yourself out. You look back as he stands in the other doorway, "I have an appointment shortly. You will let them in when they ring and show them up."

"Yes, Mr. Laufeyson," you agree.

"So you won't stray far."

"I won't."

He waves you off lightly and disappears into the study once more. You turn and quietly shuffle into the hallway. You go downstairs and pace as you dial the phone. Your nerves are a swirl. Mr. Laufeyson is suffocatingly observant.

"Ronan Carpentry," the voice comes from the speaker.

"Oh, ach, hi," you nearly choke on your tongue, "hi, um, I'm just following up on an estimate."

He asks for your name, you give your own but add Mr. Laufeyson's as he would be the leaseholder. The air is static as the man is silent on the other end. He hums and finally speaks again.

"So you would like to go forward with the work?" He prompts.

"Yes, sir."

"When would be best to begin?" He's straight to business. You can appreciate that.

"Hmm, well, I could do most days except Wednesday but the owner would be here."

"Would he be handling this or would you?"

You trace a fingernail with your thumb, "me, I guess."

"Thursday works for me," he confirms, "if it suits you, miss."

"Great," you sigh, "yeah, Thursday works."

"Nine good?" His deep voice is smooth like syrup as it drips through the phone.

"Nine," you confirm with a squeak, "thank you, sir."

"Of course. Have a good one."

You eke out a 'you, too' and hang up. You exhale out your nerves. You're even more jittery and you don't know why. Usually getting phone calls out of the way is a relief.

You do your best to focus, working down the list until the doorbell buzzes. You jump, taking a moment to recall the expected visitor. You rush out the front door and down the steps. You come up to the gate but find a car waiting by the bigger door. You hit the button so it rolls open and lets the brown vehicle through.

The man that gets out has gray hair and pale blue eyes. He looks around curiously as you cross the lot back to the house. He gives you a friendly smile as you approach and offers his hand, "Loki hanging around here?"

You daintily shake his hand, a gesture you're unused to. His grip is firm but not harsh.

"Mr. Laufeyson is upstairs in his study, I can show you in--"

"Mr. Laufeyson?" He repeats, amused, "in his study? I can find my way," he lets you go, "he didn't tell me he had a lady friend."

Your mouth forms a surprised squiggle, "I'm the house manager."

"Ah, house manager," he clucks, "interesting. Well, can't keep him waiting, I'm already late."

He shoots you with a finger gun and rushes past you. You frown as you turn to watch him. He's not what you expected. You don't see Laufeyson as tolerating someone like that, not that he puts up with much.

As you enter the house, you hear the man's voice upstairs. You're not used to signs of life. His gregarious greeting is soon smothered behind a door. You carry on.

At one, you take a short break in the garden to have your peanut butter sandwich. You thought of eating at the counter as you usually do but being inside is starting to feel oppressive. You chew the dry bread and thick spread, staring at the foliage without seeing.

Your eyes are drawn up as you sense movement and you find curtains being drawn back on the second floor. A figure lingers behind the pane before backing away. You're certain it's Mr. Laufeyson. You hope he's not bothered by you being out in the garden.

You finish the crust last, your stomach mulching up the food violently, and you dust off your fingers. You take out your phone and check the list. No time to waste. You had your ten minutes. You can get through a few more hours.

🧹

Tuesday comes and goes in a similar slog. Your hours are whittled away as you find yourself under the omniscient eye of Mr. Laufeyson. Each time you think you're alone, he appears. He looms but doesn't speak, lurking and waiting, for what, you don't know. At the end of the day, you still don't know. You go home, just as you do every night, without a farewell.

Home sees you just the same. Leslie's finishing up as your father sits over a new puzzle. It's been ages since you've seen him so consumed by anything besides his cigarettes. You sit and have dinner at the nurse's insistence and bid her off.

Your father stays up as you go up to shower and settle into bed. The last six days hang off your shoulders like sandbags and needle in the muscles between your shoulder blades. You lay down and fall asleep almost as soon as your head meets the pillow. You've never been so exhausted in your life.

You wake up, less refreshed than groggy. You make yourself get out of bed, wanting to get stuff done on your singular day off. After you have your tea and get your dad his coffee, you get to the chores that you couldn't do throughout the week. Mopping and vacuuming, then laundry.

As you work on the second floor, your father sits with his puzzle. He's fidgety as he hunches over the table. You watch him as you sweep the floor around the couch. He catches you as he glances up. He scowls and shakes his head.

You gather the dust and dirt into the pan and dump it out. You check the time. It's nearly lunchtime. You wash your hands and check the cupboard. There's a can of tuna leftover from your last grocery trip. You'll try to do another on your way home from work tomorrow. You take out your phone and add it to your reminders.

You go back to the living room as your dad holds a handful of pieces and tosses them one at a time onto the wood as he searches for a particular shape.

"Are you hungry at all?" You ask.

"I want a fucking smoke," he growls.

"Well, I'm sorry, I don't have any," you tuck the phone in your pocket and push your hands behind you, clasping them tightly. The weight of it presses against your thigh.

"Don't be a fucking smartass," he throws the pieces left in his hand at you and they scatter on the floor. "Maybe if you got off that phone , eh?"

You kneel down to gather up the pieces. He snarls and hits the table. You pluck up the last few and set them on wood as you stand.

"Where'd you get a phone like that, huh? Expensive? You been buying yourself all this nice shit and I'm sitting here on a stinky fucking couch rotting away," he accuses.

"It's for work," you say, "I'm gonna make tuna sandwiches."

He sits back and huffs, swiping up the remote and jabbing it through the air towards the television. He sets the volume on blast so your eardrums pulse. You step back as he jams his thumb into the buttons.

“Makes me wonder what kinda job affords you a fancy phone like that?”

“Huh?” You grimace.

“Well, you got no schooling, got no skills,” he sniffs, “only got one thing of use.”

He can't mean… that. You're his daughter. Your eyes sear and gleam as you shake your head.

“I… I'm a house manager,” you croak, “dad–”

“Sure,” he guffaws, “what kinda idiot would want you managing their house? They probably haven't seen this dump.”

“Please, I'm trying–”

“You always gotta fucking yammer!” He barks and a hot pain bounces off your arm.

You grunt and look down as the remote hits the floor. You rub the tender spot as you let out a shocked ‘ow.’

“Go fucking cry about it. I can't hear the TV over your whining.”

You hold back the wall of tears and pick up the remote. You set it by his puzzle and back up. Yo wiggle your nose as you sidle out of the room. hiding your face.

You move tentatively like prey avoiding the vicious eyes of a hunter. Your arm throbs as you feel a welt forming. It's better to hide before you get more.

You forget about the tuna as your hunger evaporates. You can only think of the pain that goes much deeper than flesh. That rent in your heart that can barely contain your despair. It splits wider as the stress of the week threatens to overflow.

You retreat to your room as the salty tears begin to stream, catching along your nose and dripping off your chin. You close the door and hurtle yourself towards the bed to bury your face in the pillow. A hard shape presses into your leg, a corner stabbing you bluntly.

You lift your hip and fish around in your pocket to free your phone, tearing your pocket inside out. As you go to put it on the nightstand, you notice the timer in the corner. Didn't you lock it before you shoved it away?

You sit up and gulp back sobs, shaking as you stare at the ongoing call. Mr. Laufeyson's name is blazed across the screen. You put it to your ear and whisper, “hello?” You swallow and make yourself speak louder, “hello?”

The line clicks and you pull the screen back. The call's ended as the option to return the call pops up. You blacken the screen and turn the phoje face down, dropping it onto the night table.

Did he hear all that?

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #maid au #dirty work #mcu #marvel #thor #avengers

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wonwooslibrary · 14 days

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svt as boyfriends ♡ chan edition

member: lee chan (dino) x gn! reader

genre: fluff, established relationship, bullet points

word count: 714

summary: channie's boyfriend things <333

warnings: mentions of menstrual cycles & insulting in a loving way

author's note: hello! normally this is where i would be oops i'm getting back into writing but i'll be completely honest this time and say that i am completely falling out of love with it and i genuinely haven't opened a wip in so damn long. if i wasn't so far into this series, I definitely would not have finished it....i want to write more but it just might take me a while to find my love for it once again...thanks for still reading though <3 sorry this is so late, and I hope you enjoy reading!!!

Socially stupid bf <3

If anyone sees you, they will always know that Chan is close behind

Is so madly in love with you and doesn’t know how to live without you

Quality Time

Loves taking you anywhere he goes, including dance practices or shopping

Dinner dates are his thing - he’ll pull off the roses and candles and everything

Constant texts when you can’t be together because of work or visiting family

Such as hey i managed to find that sock that went missing in the laundry last week !! or how long do i put 12 pizza rolls in the microwave for

Loves just being with you when you take part in your hobbies, even if he doesn’t particularly enjoy them himself

Gets worried that you’ll get angry with him because he’s always with you and knows that you need your alone time once in a while

Words of Affirmation

Compliments you through jokes or insults type of boyfriend

You’re all like “I love you,” and he’s like, “You wouldn’t if I was a worm though :(“ and then you roll your eyes because come on, how could someone not love Lee Chan

Always apologizes for things he doesn’t need to apologize for because he doesn’t want to upset you :(((

I don’t think Chan would be a big fan of pet names, to be honest, but if he was, I think they would just be versions of your name :3

Melts into a puddle when you compliment him because !!! you are complimenting him !!!!

Basically he can dish out all the compliments, but the minute you try saying them back, he turns into a literal tomato because he’s embarrassed but also so madly in love

Physical Touch

I think he is secretly one of the biggest cuddle bugs in svt and nobody can change my mind

When he laughs, he always manages to fall into you some way, whether that be resting his head on your shoulder or crumpling into you

Loves holding hands (especially in public) but not in a possessive way, more of a I constantly want to be around you kind of way

And of course you love it because it’s Lee Chan and you love everything about him

On the other hand, there are definitely days that he doesn’t feel confident in himself or that he deserves the love you give him :(((

You know on those days that you need to show your affection and make the first moves yourself,,,he likes loving you, but sometimes he just needs to be shown that he can be loved too

Acts of Service

I’m not going to lie, I struggled a bit with this category, because I feel it’s easier for Chan to say things rather than show it

He’s just not sure whether him making tea for you says “i love you” or “sup bro” and wants to make sure he gets the right message across

Because of this, your relationship took a while to form because both of you cannot take a hint and were so convinced you didn’t like each other

Absolutely loves helping you with literally everything: doing chores, studying, getting ready in the morning, as long as you are there with him, he doesn’t care and will do anything

He doesn’t realize that what he does shows how much he loves you, he just thinks its normal to help you, and vice versa

Sometimes you protest against his help but he’s just a BOY WHO IS IN LOVE let him do what he wants :(

Gift Giving

A huuuge fan of gift giving

Will buy anything that you could ever want or need

Stuffed animals and snacks galore !!!!

If you have menstrual cycles, he would totally be the type of boyfriend to go to the store and buy whatever products you need and surprise you with a bunch of snacks and treats throughout the week

You of course also spoil him to the best of your ability and he loves it, but also always feels bad when you spend money on him in any way

Loves matching and customizable gifts !!! He likes to give you things that can make you laugh and remember a specific moment with him because he thinks it’s cute (and you think it’s sappy and adorable)

134 notes · View notes

photmath · 3 months

Text

Blue Scribbles | Trent Alexander-Arnold

Pairing: Trent Alexander-Arnold x Female Reader

Summary: Trent and you have always bumped heads, but after seeing him kiss a girl, you begin to feel something you shouldn't.

Word Count: 8.0k

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, little angst reader is drunk briefly, jerkface Trent, vomitting, loose-editing

Note: Not my best work but might as well free up space in my wips. Just a whole lot of nothing but Dominik cameos, sorrry.

“Trent, are you bringing anyone to the party?” Harvey asks, flipping through his notepad to jot down the number of guests.

Trent nods his head mindlessly, head still tucked down as he scrolls through his phone, “Yeah, just put down two.”

“Girls?” Dominik blurts. “Gonna have them meet at the same time?”

Trent looks up at his friend, a smug expression unfolding on his lips as looks at the rest of the group. All six pairs of eyes await his answer. His eyes circle back to you, his smirk growing wider, “Something like that.”

You dart your eyes away. You don’t care who Trent brings to the party, it just bothered you that after looking at the entire group of six at the table, he stopped and stared at you to confirm his number of guests. It shouldn’t have made you feel anything, but it left you feeling bitter.

Harvey nudges your elbow, “And what about you?”

“Just me,” you murmur. Trent snorts from across the table and you look up at him, he sends you back a wink. “Say what you have to say.”

He shrugs, placing his phone face down on the table, “Nothin.’”

“Don’t start,” Veronica rubs her temple.

“Are you going to tell those two girls, who by the way, are bestfriends, that you’re fucking the both of them?” you remark, ignoring Veronica’s plea. The rest of the group groans, Jude gasping.

“You’re doing what?” His eyebrows wide.

Trent clenches his jaw, the smug expression he wore moments ago disappearing, “I’m not fucking either.”

“Yeah right,” you huff, closing your laptop and slipping it into your bag.

“Where are you going,” Tara sits up, grabbing a hold of your wrist.

“I’m going home.”

“It’s dark out, you can’t walk alone.”

“It’s not that late,” you reply, throwing your backpack over your shoulder. The sun had already set and the apartment was not that far away, although sure, it would’ve been safer to walk with someone.

You don’t notice Trent trailing behind you until the door swings open, him scurrying behind you, “Did you really have to say that so loud?”

“It’s not like we all didn’t know.”

Jude not knowing was his own fault, he was too airheaded at times to remember gossip.

He grabs a hold of your wrist and you spin around to face him. He shoves his hands into his black hoodie, “I’m not having sex with either of them.”

You shut your eyes close, “I don't need to know that.”

“Yeah, well you talk like you know everything,” he exasperates.

Huffing, you pull your jacket tighter to your chest, “Okay, fine. You aren’t fucking either of them.”

Trent purses his lips, “I’ll walk with you.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, come on,” he walks past you, bumping into your shoulder.

Trent is not someone who you consider yourself close to. He was a part of the friend group, but he was also your academic rival. The two of you bumped heads constantly in class, always on opposite sides in debate, and fighting over the better grade in biology. No amount of “forced-bonding”—as Veronica described it—stopped the bickering. Since you met him four years ago, nothing has changed and that didn't seem to be changing soon either.

Trent suddenly shuffles around in his backpack, tsking to himself as he looks back at you, “Do you have a pen I could borrow? We have that paper due tomorrow and you know, we have to write it out.”

You roll your eyes, swinging your bag around to your chest. You’re careful to make sure you don’t slip off the sidewalk but Trent stays close to the side closest to the road, him bumping into your shoulder to move you further away.

“Sorry,” you mutter, unzipping the small pouch. The only available pen you have is a brand new blue Pilot G2 pen, one that you got from the library. You sigh, “Here.”

“Thanks,” he takes it and threads it into the space between the tip of his ear and head. His locs fall on top of it.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, only helping him because he was walking you home—but he lived in the apartment next to yours. No surprise there.

“Have you already finished your paper?” He asks, turning back to you. A cloud of condensation blows in your direction.

“Yep.”

He nods, “You had what? Romanticism?”

“Uh-huh.”

He chuckles, “What’s got you so upset? I just saw you earlier and you were fine. And then the stunt you pulled in the library? What’s up?”

“Nothing, I’m good,” you stare ahead, the apartment finally coming into view.

He bumps into your shoulder again, this time with more force, “Why are you being such an ass?”

You stop abruptly, attempting to grab your pen back but he just weaves away. “Am I supposed to thank you for walking me home?”

Trent smiles but not genuine, his tongue licking across his lips, “I try to be nice even after you’ve said something about me twice.”

“You live there too!” you scoff, and then turn back to the apartment. Scanning the key fob, the staircase doors open and Trent follows closely behind you.

“I was trying to make small talk with you,” he says calmly, rephrasing his words as if it will prolong the conversation.

“Don’t. We don’t do small talk.”

“Your mood changed so fast, sorry for trying to make sure you were okay,” he relents.

You halt, turning around and looking down at him, “Don’t act like you care about me.”

He gapes, “You’re my friend, of course I care.”

“Friends? We aren’t friends, Trent.”

“Why not?” he looks taken aback, his hand clutching onto the rail. His knuckles turn whiter the longer you take to respond.

“Because you ruined my presentation!”

“That happened months ago.”

“That was an asshole move and you know it, don’t be dense. I worked on it for an entire month and you fucked it all up, for what? A five minute laugh? You cost me my grade,” you cross your arms, feeling yourself grow hot as rage seeps through you. “I would’ve never done that shit to you. Why do you think I’ve kept my distance from you? All I want to do is punch your stupid face.”

Trent huffs, “Then do it, if that’s going to stop making you feel upset.”

You blow out a breath, “You don’t get it.”

“Then tell me.”

“I was this close to getting an A,” you pinch your fingers together, displaying the small gap you needed to bump your B to an A. All you needed was a superb presentation and you would've gotten it, but here comes Trent, infiltrating your hard drive and changing your entire presentation to Latin. Luckily, you had memorized and practiced what you wrote and was able to present it that way, the PowerPoint just a mere background. But it wasn’t enough to change your grade to an A.

You exhale slowly again, “And then you changed my presentation and I got a bad grade on it. Long nights worth of researching, gone.”

Trent glances around the stairs, biting down onto his bottom lip, “I’m sorry.”

“Too late,” you purse your lips. “It doesn’t matter now.” You turn around and head up the stairs. Trent lagged behind but then eventually caught up to your pace. You held the door open for him begrudgingly, him walking past you without a glance. His hands stuffed into his pockets as he walked down the corridor to your and his apartments.

He shuffles around in his pocket for his keys and then opens his door, slamming it closed and you furrow your eyebrows at his attitude. You slam your door back, not caring that it rattles the apartment.

Trent is a couple of minutes late to class, your professor going on about your papers needing to be passed down to the ends of the rows so that she could pick them up.

And for whatever reason, your eyes latch onto Trent’s appearance once he strolls into class. A black beanie covers his head as he climbs up the stairs, his backpack on one shoulder, and the black leather jacket he has on makes your eyebrow rise. Was it new?

As he passes by your seat, the scent of his usual laundry detergent is replaced with an unfamiliar cologne. You let out a cough, him glancing in your direction but then turning away as he sits down. His eyes look a lot more hooded than usual, and the sudden emergence of eye bags.

Two seats separate the two of you but the space is so small that it’s almost an arm’s length of distance in reality. You had missed the first day of class, not realizing the seat you chose the second day of class was next to Trent, neither of you daring to move away.

He takes out his paper quickly, passing it in your direction and the ink—it’s black? You give him a dubious look as you pass it to the person sitting beside you.

“Where’s my pen?”

“I lost it,” he mumbles.

“Are you serious?”

He nods, never looking at you as he props up his iPad, “Very.”

“Dickhead,” you whisper. You’d have to grab another pen. You had multiple colored pens, but nothing compared to the slick roll of a Pilot G2 pen. It was a good pen.

Class goes by without another peep from Trent, until the professor tells you you’ll be assigned a partner and topic for the next research paper. You hold your breath as you search through the class’s website to find your partner, and the universe always works against your favor:

Trent Alexander-Arnold. Darwinism.

Trent slams his laptop closed, seemingly just reading the same list you did and you groan. The paper was due in a week.

“We can meet up later this week,” you suggest.

“I have to get to class,” he says, swinging his backpack over his shoulder and walking away.

You sigh, gathering your things and then following Trent. He is already at the end of the row when you notice a blue tab sticking out of the small pouch of his backpack. Your pen!

You pick up your pace, grumbling at your peers as they stop you from catching up to him. They crowd the stairs and take their time going down them, you attempting to maneuver through them but it’s no use. Once you exit, you stand on your tippy toes and catch the tip of his black beanie. As you beeline towards him, he turns the corner and once you round it, you stop dead in your tracks.

He’s grinning as he wraps his arm over a girl’s shoulder, leaning down to press a kiss on her lips. It isn’t a quick kiss, it’s a deep one, his fingers coming up to her cheek to draw her in deeper. Something tumbles in your stomach, making you lean against the wall for support. You turn away, feeling like you’ve invaded his privacy and you really shouldn’t have seen that. You swallow the bile in your throat and head to the library.

Dominik is the first one you see in the study room, his head perking up as he spots you, “Hey.”

“Hey,” you exasperate.

His eyebrows pinch, “You okay?”

“Mm-hmm,” you say, avoiding his gaze. “Just motivating myself for Harvey’s party tonight.”

He chuckles, “He says it should be lowkey, just us.”

And whoever Trent is planning on inviting.

You gulp, “Mm-hmm.”

“You look like you’re going to puke,” he says, putting down his iPad and standing up. He grabs the bin and pushes it near you.

Before you can thank him or push it away, Trent walks in. And that’s it, you bend down and hurl into the bin.

“Oh my god,” Dominik yelps. “Maybe you shouldn’t go to the party tonight.”

Trent doesn’t say a word as he sits down, you take the napkin Dominik pulled out of his bag. You wipe your face, feeling flushed and dizzy.

“I’m going to go home.”

“Do you want me to walk you?” Dominik asks.

“Uh—”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Trent says, slouching down in his seat as he types on his phone. You glance at him and notice the tips of his fingers are stained blue. You don’t question it as you get up to leave.

You can’t keep a secret. It was your biggest weakness, always making you physically ill. Trent was kissing one of those girl’s, her bestfriend oblivious that they were both going for the same guy. You had to either tell her or somehow forget about it.

Dominik huffs, closing his iPad and grabbing your backpack. He swings it over his shoulder and ushers you out of the room. Once the door closes, you blurt, “Trent was kissing her.”

“What?” Dominik asks.

“He kissed her. Her bestfriend has no idea.”

“Her bestfriend?”

“They’re both going for Trent!” You turn towards him and he’s blatantly confused, his lips part open.

“Okay, so what?”

“One of them is bound to get hurt.”

“Maybe they know,” Dominik sighs. “It’s not our business.”

“But tonight, he’s bringing them both.”

He walks you into the lift, “And? Trent can handle his own business. If he’s going for a pair of bestfriends, let him.”

“I’m breaking girl code,” you murmur, letting your head fall dramatically against the lift’s walls.

Dominik rolls his eyes, “You don’t even know them.”

“But I know it’s happening.”

Dominik sighs, letting the conversation die out. He walks you back to your apartment, making sure you eat something before he goes next door to his own bedroom.

Tara has you out of the apartment before you can even protest. Dominik’s already too buzzed to tell you to go back home, instead he’s pouring you a shot glass. Even though you know alcohol wouldn’t calm your nerves down, you down it anyway. It burns your throat that you turn away from the island, accidentally bumping into someone.

Looking up, Trent wears a weary smile as he looks down at you. His beanie is long gone, but so are his locs. Instead his hair is cut short, super short that you blink repeatedly at it, just to make sure your eyes aren’t playing tricks on you.

Before you can say something, he looks away and walks past you. You don’t realize his arm is clutching onto someone else, the girl from earlier following closely behind him.

Dominik coughs and you face him, he shakes his head rapidly. His cheeks flush red as he starts choking.

“Jesus, Domi.”

“What?” he rasps, bending down to catch his breath. You rub his back as your gaze finds Trent. Trent brings a brown bottle of beer to his lips, his gaze flickering up at you. “You aren’t the only one who lost a boyfriend today.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend to lose—wait what?” you pick up Dominik by his shoulder. His eyes are brimmed red, his cheeks still beet red. “What happened with you and Ibou?”

He shrugs, “He said he wants a break.”

“What?”

He looks down at his shot glasses, pouring another round of whiskey into them, “And it makes sense why you threw up, you like Trent.”

“No I don’t,” you deny, your eyes finding Trent again, hoping he couldn’t hear Dominik. Trent is too submersed into conversation to notice.

He nods, handing you the glass, “Don’t deny it, it’s obvious the more I realize it. Always has been.”

He can’t be right. Whatever chance Trent had was ruined the day he messed up your presentation. He made you sob in the girls’ restroom, there was no way you could have a crush on him.

But your stomach tumbling earlier today. The burn of your neck and cheeks. And the way your chest caved in so deep that it felt like you were choking—no.

It didn’t help that Dominik had known you so well. He was the first friend you made on campus and he had always had a knack for reading you. He ended up meeting Trent through his football team, but you had already known of Trent.

“See,” Dominik murmurs, pointing out the horror etched across your face. “He’s cute, he’s just an asshole.”

“No, Dominik, you’re wrong.”

He purses his lips, face growing somber, “I wish I was, just so I didn’t have to see the disappointment on your face. Let’s just forget about it. Ibou is supposed to come and I don’t know…I might escape to your apartment to be honest.”

“Go for it,” you mumble, tearing your eyes away from Trent and tilting your head back as you gulp down the shot. Dominik is quick to pour another, and Jesus, how many were you and him going to have back to back?

Once the both of you drink the third shot, you take the bottle away from his tight grip. The party had barely got rowdy thirty minutes ago and you had maybe fifteen minutes before you couldn’t see straight. Drinking with Dominik was never a smart idea and you were going to regret it soon.

Tara drags you and Dominik away from the island to the beer pong table. Trent stands behind you, the girl—and her bestfriend—beside him. Dominik hums in your ear, before grabbing a cup and drinking the beer.

“Dominik!” Jude yells and Dominik apologizes, a sloppy grin forming.

“You two drink too much already?” Trent butts his head between the two of you, Dominik murmuring in Hungarian as he gets startled—or annoyed—with Trent’s voice.

You look away, crossing your arms as Tara and Veronica start the round of beer pong.

Trent’s presence behind you makes you feel hot, as if you can feel his breath on your exposed shoulder. And when you miss your first shot, he doesn’t let his presence go unnoticed, “You can’t be that drunk already.”

“Shut up,” you slur, jabbing him in his rib with your elbow. The white tee he wears hugs his biceps tight that you get distracted momentarily before Dominik pulls you back to your senses. He tosses the next ball and it lands in a cup.

As the game continues, Tara and Veronica don’t let up, making you and Dominik drink more cups of beer. Your head was already spinning, incoherent words flying past your lips as you tried to distract Tara and Veronica.

Once you two lose, Dominik sits down on the couch and you groan, finding yourself in the kitchen and searching through their fridge for a bottle of water.

“What are you looking for?” Trent asks behind you, his arms folded.

“Why do you have so many eggs?” your brows furrow as you stare at the drawer filled with eggs.

“Do you need water?”

“Yeah,” you stand up, feeling the weight of the world around your head, and then you bump your head against the top of the fridge. Before you can tumble, Trent wraps his arms around your waist.

“Okay, let’s sit you down, yeah?” He ushers you to a chair and you groan, your head pounding from the sudden hit. The wave of pain seemed to only exacerbate your nausea. Your cheeks feel hot as you close your eyes to make the room stop spinning.

Trent uncaps the water and taps your elbow. You hold your hand out, “Hold on.”

“Do you need to throw up?”

“Just shut up.”

He sighs, “C’mon.” He bends down to hoist you up from your waist, ushering you into their guest restroom that was a few steps away. He locks the door and leans you against the wall. He leans against the door, watching you carefully.

“Ibou and Dominik broke up,” you slur. Here go you spilling secrets that weren’t yours to tell. “Fuck you weren’t supposed to know that.”

He nods, “It’s okay, I already knew.”

Thank God.

“And I saw you kissing that girl—ugh—what was her name, Clare? Clarissa?”

He furrows his eyebrows, crossing his arms. Your eyes selfishly land on his bulging biceps. He coughs, “Anything else you want to spit out?”

“I know you have my blue pen. And I’m really fucking drunk right now.”

Trent fights off a chuckle, it was a sight to see you flushed from alcohol. You rarely get super drunk and this seems to be the night you are going to—or already were. Your eyes are more hooded than usual, hair a bit out of place, and your face is sticky.

“Yeah, you are really drunk,” he chuckles.

“Why are you laughing? It’s not funny,” you groan. “My head, it feels so heavy and then the fucking fridge—”

Trent bursts into another loud laugh, “I’m sorry, it’s just, I haven’t seen you like this since last year.”

“I didn’t plan on it, Dominik kept pouring shots and then we sucked at beer pong.”

Trent shakes his head, “No, you sucked. He was pretty good.”

“I sucked,” you throw your hands up in surrender but it only makes you feel more unbalanced that you wobble.

Trent reaches out for you, “Woah.”

He brings his head away from yours, his lips shiny with saliva as he peers down at you. Your hands are clutching onto his arms to regain your balance and god when did his arms feel so strong? And those eyelashes, were they always this long?

“You okay?” he whispers. His voice is so soft that it makes you close your eyes, you wanting to desperately lean forward against him to settle the spins.

You are too drunk for this. Instead, you fall back onto the wall and try to stand against it as straight as possible.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

He lets go of you and hands you the water bottle, “Drink up.”

Bile teases along your throat that it hurts swallowing but you continue on, feeling the bottle crush beneath your grip. Trent watching you gulp down the water doesn’t make the room any less stuffy or hot.

“You’re drunk,” he repeats, “so you won’t remember any of this in the morning?”

You let out a dry chuckle, “Probably not, to be honest. Being in a small restroom with you, god I hope not.”

Something flickers across Trent’s eyes but it’s gone within a heartbeat as he says coldly, “Yeah, I wouldn’t want to remember this either.”

“Why aren’t you with Clarissa and her bestfriend?”

“Because I’m here taking care of you being a sloppy drunk,” he spits.

“I can handle myself, I was doing just fine until you startled me and made me hit my head.”

Trent’s nostrils flare, his jaw clenching, “I don’t understand you.”

“Save your monologue, I won’t remember this and I really want to remember the way you look like you’re about to lose it,” you say monotonously, finishing the last bit of water.

Trent grits his teeth, “Can you stop being an ass for five minutes?”

“Timer starts now.”

“Why do Clarissa and Diane bother you so much?”

“Because they’re bestfriends, that’s cruel, Trent,” you say. “They have no idea you’re playing them both. I shouldn’t be surprised after you humiliated me in front of everyone in class, but that’s cruel. And you say you’re sorry but you’re doing the same thing.”

Trent’s eyebrows crease, “It’s none of your business.”

“It’s not, but you’re an awful person. And it just makes me look at you differently. If the presentation didn’t prove you to be the biggest jackass at this uni, that does.”

“What you think of me doesn’t matter to me.” Trent snarls, looking around the restroom but only faces the mirror, where he immediately darts his eyes away from his reflection. “You made it out to be that I was playing them both, I’m not.”

You gawk, “You were right, I am too drunk for this.” You step to leave the restroom but he stops you, your head bumping into his chest that you stumble back against the wall where you were. “So what, I’m wrong and you’re only going for Clarissa? You know what, you’re right again, it’s none of my business and I’m not about to sit here and try to get it right because I won’t remember this in the morning. I’ll still think of you the same.”

“I like you,” he blurts out.

“What?”

He looks…flushed? Shocked? His eyes wide and his lips part as if he can’t believe what he just said, “Nothing. I just wanted you to stop talking.”

Silence falls between the two of you as he scratches the nape of his neck. He chews on his bottom lip anxiously. You couldn’t have heard him right. Surely the alcohol was seeping deep into you that comprehending words was much more of a task than before.

“Why did you cut your hair?” you ask quietly. Your gaze shifts to his chest, it’s heaving rapidly.

He shrugs, “Just wanted a change.”

“Oh, okay. Cool.”

“Do you like it?” He glances at the mirror and pats the back of it down.

Instead of answering, your jumbled mind reads his expression. He’s looking away from you but he’s expecting an answer, looking shy. His hands are still patting misplaced curls back into place but nothing is out of place. He waits patiently for your answer, but didn’t he say that it didn’t matter what you thought of him?

“Didn’t even recognize you.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. He looks at you and his eyes urge for you to continue. “I guess good, but then I recognized you and it became bad.”

His eyes look down briefly, “I’m sorry for hurting you.”

“Yeah yeah,” you grumble, having heard those same words over and over again.

“I want to show you something in my bedroom.”

Your brows furrow, “I’m drunk, I’m not having sex with you.”

His mouth drops, “No! That’s not what I meant.”

“I would hope not,” you gag as the image of you two pops up in your head. “I don’t think I’d want to remember that anyway, good thing I wouldn’t.”

Trent’s flustered state doesn’t go away as he rambles, “I made you something.”

“If I go upstairs, you might have to carry me down.”

“Okay,” he shrugs, holding out his hand. “Come on.”

You hesitate, “Won’t your girls get mad?”

He rolls his eyes, “They aren’t my girls. Come on.”

You clasp your hand into his but the second he pulls you, you stumble into chest. He places his free hand on your waist and helps you out of the restroom.

Dominik stands with a drunken smile perched against the wall beside the restroom, “Oh, I’m glad you two worked out.” He sends you a wink before taking another swig of his drink.

You turn back to Trent, “Make sure he ends up in his bed tonight.”

“I know,” he nods, tapping your hip so that you can lead the way. Despite your few stumbles and the death stares from the pair of bestfriends, you make it to the staircase. Trent guides you upstairs with his hand pressed against your back.

Your head still felt like it was spinning but the bottle of water helped. You just needed some kind of bread, or crackers, something.

You turn back to Trent, he stops abruptly and bends down to your ear, “What?”

“Do you have food? Water and bread?”

“Bread?” He scrunches his eyebrows, his hand becoming more heavy on your back.

“It helps with alcohol.”

He blows a raspberry, “I’ll get it for you once we get to my room.”

“Okay, thank you.” You continue up the narrow stairs, cursing as you trip over a step. Trent hoists you up quickly, his hands never leaving your waist, even after your shirt lifted and he was now touching bare skin. His fingers stung, firm as they dug into you.

Once you reach his bedroom, you plop down on the floor and lean against his bed and bed frame. He leaves to get you bread and water and you peek around his room. Not much has changed since you had last been in it. There’s a couple of books piled on his nightstand, a hoodie loosely thrown over his desk chair, and a floor lamp lighting up the room.

You expect him to return with a bottle and maybe three slices of bread, but instead he returns with a six-pack of water bottles and an entire loaf of bread. You selfishly gawk at his biceps but then feel your eyes well up with tears.

“Are you crying?” he scowls, getting onto his knees and prying open the six-pack. He then unties the bread and faces it towards you.

“You brought me a whole loaf?” Your voice trembles as you tear a piece off and eat it. Your jaw wobbles as more tears spill out, a much harder cry than you expected.

“It’s just bread…” he mumbles, sitting next to you and hesitating to look at you. He rests his hands over his perched knees while you stuff your face with the bread. A small smile teeters against his lips.

“You’re so sweet.”

“You just said I was an awful person.”

“You do awful things,” you correct.

“Wouldn’t I still be awful then?”

You nod through tears, not wanting to debate the logistics of your drunk mind because you knew somehow you’d convince yourself to see him through rose-colored glasses. You’d circle back to him being a “sweet” guy because deep down you know he is, but sometimes he does things that you don’t understand—much less he.

He shuffles up to his feet, “Let me show you what I made.”

You shake his head, “Don’t. I won’t remember.”

Trent looks back at you, his piercing brown eyes growing more gentle as he looks back at you. “Maybe that’s a good thing.”

“I want to,” you confess.

He swallows, his hand on the edge of his dresser, “You’d hate it if you were sober.”

“No I wouldn’t,” you say muffled, still chewing on bread. Being thirsty and hungry, this bread tasted like the best entree.

He nods persistently, “You’d get upset that I wasted your pen. Say something about it being a good pen, probably your last because you only ever have one pen on your person. And then you’d probably throw it at me.”

You chuckle, “That does sound like me.”

He doesn’t laugh, only purses his lips as he opens his top drawer. He pulls out two things, turning his back to you before sitting back down beside you with haste.

Your head still felt a bit heavy, but with you sitting and getting hydrated, it felt a lot better. Maybe you wouldn’t wake up in the morning with a throbbing headache, and maybe you barely missed your limit before blacking out and remembering nothing.

“Here,” he says sheepishly. He pulls out a papered flower, the petals scribbled with blue ink. The flower is so elaborate with layers of petals—it was a dahlia. It must have taken Trent hours to cut the pieces into the right shape and then scribble them all blue. You knew he had to color them blue afterward because of the way the scribbles lined up, all pointing to the apex of the petal.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, twisting the dahlia from its makeshift stem.

He pulls out what he hides from his waist, “I had to buy more blue pens, thought you’d want the extras.”

The blue pens are tied together with a white ribbon, a little bow in the center. They’re in a makeshift bouquet, baby’s-breath tucked in the gaps.

“Okay now I’m really about to cry and not because I’m drunk,” you say, setting down the dahlia and wiping away the tears that cascade.

Trent’s jaw drops, “You aren’t drunk?”

“I’m getting sober,” you sob. Somehow knowing Trent wanted to show you what he made you while you were drunk and couldn’t remember doesn’t quiet the ache in your chest. Why didn’t he want to show you while you were sober? Why didn’t he want you to remember? It would’ve helped the way you see him, not as the cold-hearted persona he puts out.

Trent stays quiet as his hands twirl around the bouquet of pens. You were going to remember everything in the morning.

“It doesn’t make sense,” you whisper through your cries.

Trent looks at you, his eyes frantic, his throat bobbing as he swallows.

“You were kissing Clarissa after you made me this,” you pick up the dahlia. “Why would you do that to her? To me?”

He shakes his head, “It’s just a flower.”

“Trent, this is—elaborate. This is detailed. It’s beautiful, not something you can make within an hour. Is that why you were late to class? Why you looked so tired?”

He gulps down, “I had gotten a haircut, that took a couple of hours and then I still had to write the essay—”

“Why are you lying?” you look at him and he darts away. His jaw tenses as his hands tighten around his knees. “You didn’t write the paper yesterday. You already had it done before you asked me for the pen. You never wait until the last minute to do an assignment. You got a haircut and then you made this, tell me I’m wrong.”

A heavy exhale leaves his nose as he glances at you, “You’re right.”

As another sob escapes you, Trent’s breathing seems to become difficult. He shuffles his legs around until they’re outstretched in front of him.

You shake your head, “God I’m so fucking stupid. You are an awful person, and I should’ve never thought you were any different.”

Trent was going to bask you in gifts as if he wasn’t making out with an entire girl after giving you the cold shoulder the same day. He spent hours making and buying you something—and those pens weren’t cheap—just to screw around with someone else.

As you attempt to stand up, Trent grabs your wrist, “Wait, let me explain.”

“How do you explain that, Trent?” you ask, almost yelling. You snap your wrist out of his grip and gulp half a bottle of water.

“Just listen to me,” he stands up, pulling his shirt down. “I convinced myself it was stupid. You fucking hate me. Why would you forgive me after all that I’ve done to you? I wasted your pen and then bought you more to replace them when all you wanted was your pen. You didn’t want my flower or more pens, just like how you didn’t want my apologies after ruining your presentation. It was a joke gone too far and I get that, but I didn’t think it would hurt you. I didn’t know it would bring your grade down. I know you’re smart, I knew you’d know what to say, but fuck I didn’t know our professor was going to grade the PowerPoint so hard. I tried to tell him that I did it, but all he did was bring my grade down too, but I maintained my A. I care about you, I do, and I’m sorry for hurting you.”

You shake your head, even though you were getting sober his words were too much to digest especially when he spoke way too fast to keep you from leaving.

“Trent,” you rub your forehead. “Even if all that is true, that doesn’t explain Clarissa.”

He holds out his hand in front of you as if you are going to dash out his room. “I was distracting myself from hurting you. Yeah, I’m hurting her too. I’m not proud of it, but—I can’t hurt you more than what I already have.”

“Yeah,” you nod tiredly. “You fucked up really bad.”

You make your way to his door but he grabs a hold of your arm, physically pleading you to stay and listen to him. “Wait, okay, please—”

“You wanted to give me these when I wouldn’t remember. As if I wouldn’t realize it was from you?”

Trent nods, “I know you would’ve, but it would’ve been different with you confronting me. I could’ve lied and said it was from Dominik or something—”

“God, you and your lies,” you shake your head. “Just fucking stop. I’m not going to listen to you if you keep fucking lying, I’m done with this.”

“I said ‘could’ve,’” he says curtly. “I’m being honest. Fuck,” he rasps, pulling the ends of his curls as if he still has his locs. “I like you, stupidly and selfishly so. The only reason I went for Clarissa is because I know you don’t like me back and I’ve been trying to move on. But it’s hard when we’re in the same friend group, when I see you in class, and then get paired with you. It doesn’t help that Dominik is constantly in my ear talking about what a screw up I am because I’m not doing this right. But fuck, do you know how much it hurt for you to tell me we aren’t friends? That you don’t even see me as a friend? I made the dahlia as a gift to give to you as a friend but fuck—” He stops himself and runs his hands over his short curls.

He shakes his head, “I scrolled through your Insta and for the first time realized how I’m cropped out of your posts or barely there. Even before I ruined your presentation, you’ve always hated me. I thought we were bantering, I thought you knew I viewed you as my friend and me teasing you about grades was friendly fire. We’re both competitive, but I thought you knew I cared about you. I thought it was so obvious. After I scrolled through your Insta, I didn’t want to give you the dahlia or pens back. I thought it best to forget about it.”

You bite onto your tongue digesting his words. He has always been a rambler, especially when he was desperate and watching him nervously shift the weight of his body between his feet, the way he tugged his hair, or him constantly licking and biting his lip between pauses, it hurt seeing him like this. He wasn’t prepared to confess his feelings or his intentions, just spewing his thoughts without a blueprint. It was a mess.

He was a mess.

“Trent,” you sigh. “Do you want to talk it out or do you want us to just talk tomorrow morning? After we’ve both gotten rest.”

He scratches his face, “I don’t think I’m going to get any sleep after this.”

You sure wouldn’t either.

You nod, moving the hoodie from his desk chair to his desk before sitting in it. “Okay, then let’s talk. The only reason I cropped you out of my pictures is because you aren’t much of a social media person. You always seem reluctant to take photos, never really wanting to be in them, and posting you after you didn’t want to be in the photo in the first place seemed like I was throwing you under the bus.”

Trent looks down but the side of his lip curls up, “It’s okay to post me.”

“Okay,” your tired voice comes out as a whisper. “I know us competing in class was always friendly but you really messed up with ruining my presentation. I know you are sorry about it, I get it, it just made me view you differently. Not as my friend because friends don’t hurt each other, but obviously we aren’t strangers. I forgive you for my presentation and grade, there’s nothing we can do at this point and it makes me feel a little better that you tried to help me despite failing. So we’re friends, okay? Friends.”

You hold out your hand for Trent, he reluctantly grabs it and gives your hand a weak shake. His thumb strokes your knuckles before he lets go.

“I like you,” you admit. “I like you too, but you have a lot of redeeming to do because I’m not sure if I can ever get the image of you kissing Clarissa out of my head. And you have a lot to sort out with her.”

He nods, “Mm-hmm, I know. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, I know,” you sigh.

Trent seems distraught enough. He didn't need any more of his wrongdoings pointed out. He understood the message, even if he had gone all about this wrong.

“I think we both need to stop assuming stuff for each other. Like me hating you. Hate is strong, Trent, maybe a strong dislike but that was before this conversation,” you chuckle. “And I shouldn’t have assumed you were messing with both Clarissa and Diane.”

He nods, standing upright against his dresser, “Okay. We’re good.”

The next morning, Tara, Veronica, and you head over to the boy’s apartment to help them clean. Dominik’s wearing sunglasses, his curls tousled as you sit down next to him on the couch.

He barely moves his head in your direction, “Morning.”

“It’s noon,” you chuckle.

“I threw up in Trent’s bathroom when he walked you next door,” he says. “He came back pissed.”

“Did you forget where your room was?” you laugh. Trent enters the livingroom, the mop in his hand as he sees the two of you settled on the couch. His lips simper as he places the mop into the sink and then sits down in the space next to you.

Dominik coughs, “No. I just wanted to be with you and him, but I didn’t realize you both left. And then it just came out.”

“You missed the loo, you idiot,” Trent replies.

Dominik waves his hand, “How was I supposed to know the lid was closed?”

Trent rolls his eyes, bumping into your shoulder, “Hi.”

“Hey,” you smile. He seems more lively than before, his teeth breaking through his lips as he smiles bashfully. His eyes scan your face and it makes your cheeks warm. You turn away, looking towards Dominik, “Well, it seems like you have a long day ahead.”

You tap on Dominik’s knee and he groans. You get up and look back at Trent, “Need help with anything?”

“Still cleaning my bathroom,” he stands up. The loose gray zip up he has on flaps open revealing his white shirt underneath.

You scrunch your nose, “You slept with his vomit on the floor?”

“He threw up a lot,” he groans, walking you up to his room. “I cleaned most of it but not a deep clean. And then forced him into his shower, but I had to stay with him because he kept crying about Ibou.”

“You’re such a nice friend,” you chuckle.

His eyes flicker away from you, “I’m not awful.”

“No, you aren’t,” you smile.

A moment of silence engulfs you both as you enter his bedroom, his sheets jostled around and his bathroom emitting cleaning fumes. You let out a cough, going to his window and propping it open.

He chuckles, “Yeah, I don’t think I was supposed to mix some of these.” As he points at the various bottles of cleaning supplies he’s opened, you let out a laugh. Your cheeks ache from smiling at his uncertain facial expression, as if he couldn’t have passed out from cleaning.

You glance down, “Oof, you are not.”

The two of you work in tandem quietly but also talk about various things. Trent even brings up the project the two of you were paired together for and hashes out the dates to work on it.

It was soothing to converse with him without feeling on edge as if he would say something to get under your skin. He wasn’t making any snarky remarks, only a few teasing words, but they were jokes, a goofy grin always following afterward.

“What?” you gasp.

He nods, he tosses a wipe into the bin, “You forced me into the restroom downstairs.”

“Why would I do that?”

“You were drunk,” he shrugs, a teasing smile teetering onto his lips. Last night wasn’t much of a blur, you remembered Trent and talking to him in his bedroom, but you didn’t remember how you got up there. The pen bouquet and dahlia were placed on your nightstand but you remembered him giving them to you.

You swipe at his chest, his jacket gone, “That’s such a lie.”

Trent bursts into a laugh, “You seriously don’t remember the restroom?”

“No, what did we kiss or something?” you quip but then palm your face. “Tell me we didn’t.”

He chuckles, “I think you wanted to.”

You laugh, feeling hot but not embarrassed, just nervous. Trent’s taunting gaze is unrelenting, the smile he hides by forcing his lips into a thin line. You chuckle, pushing his shoulder, “I don’t think so. I think I would’ve remembered you and Clarissa.”

Trent’s face simmers down as looks away, “I talked to her by the way. I apologized and told her the truth. She slapped me but—” you burst into a laugh while he rolls his eyes. “Don’t laugh, but yeah, I’m not going to be seeing her again—or Diane for that matter.”

“Good,” you nod. Even if he was doing it because he wanted to now focus on you after knowing you felt the same, it was good that he wasn’t going to be leading someone on when he didn’t feel the same for them.

“So,” he exhales, his chest bowing down as he looks at you, “can we hang out alone sometime? Doesn’t have to be anything big, maybe a walk around campus or coffee? I know I have a lot of making up to do with you, but I want us to be on the same page this time.”

You resist the urge to smile. Him taking care of Dominik last night stuck out to you the most. More than him bringing you water and bread to sober up. Dominik was too much of a heartbroken and vulnerable mess to handle himself, and after seeing just how much his vomit plastered on Trent’s walls, that was a big ask of him to deal with at three in the morning.

Trent was trying, flawed, but trying. You could work with that.

“Okay, we can grab coffee,” you smile. “But slow.”

He nods, “Okay.”

He breaks out into a smile as he pokes the broom against your shoulder. You let out a kiddish laugh, turning away from him to finish scrubbing the cabinets. Trent jabs your bent knee with his foot and you don’t catch yourself before you fall forward, your head hitting the cabinet.

“Oh shit,” he says, dropping down beside you and inspecting your forehead. Your head hitting the cabinet made the contact seem much more dramatic than what it really was, but Trent’s careful and concerned eyes only make you pretend it hurts more.

“Ow,” you feign, clutching the spot. He removes your hand gingerly, getting you to sit down on the floor. “I’m sorry. I’m already fucking this up, am I?” He suddenly leans forward and kisses the spot on your forehead, swiping his kiss over the spot with his thumb.

Your chest shakes as you laugh silently, him looking at you confused. Your silent laugh can be mistaken with a cry but he groans.

“You’re fine, aren’t you?” He stands up and holds out his hand.

“You looked so scared,” you tease, taking his hand and standing up.

He rolls his eyes, “That was loud.”

“The door was open a little,” you laugh. Your hand reaches out to grab a hold of his, “Thank you for checking out my forehead with your lips.”

“Ugh,” he flusters.

You give his hand a squeeze, “Thank you, Trent. You can kiss my forehead again.”

“No,” he moans dramatically, his eyes stopping at the spot on your forehead and then he gasps, “Oh my god, it’s already swollen.”

You turn around to face the mirror so fast that it gives you whiplash. His shit-eating grin is the only thing you see, your forehead unmarked. You scowl when you turn back towards him, not realizing just how close he stood in front of you.

He chuckles, leaning forward and pressing his lips chastly on your forehead, “You craving coffee?”

----

Note: I'll write a proper academic rivals to lovers eventually. I just got lost within the plot, too delirious to make it make sense LOL. 🫠🫠

#trent alexander arnold fanfic #trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold x you #trent alexander arnold imagine #em.writes

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somnambulic-thing · 6 months

Text

wrong number 2.2k

A/N: Just had an idea for a fic I will very probably never write in a fully flashed out way because I have a million wips and no attention span and no deisre to have more wips but don't want to fully let this idea go to waste so here it goes in very shortened form and probably very messy and rough.

Eddie x afab!reader || imagine them in their early/mid 30s

cw: mental health themes, reader has a broken leg, angsty shit, fluff, happy end

You moved cities to have a fresh start after a rough time came to an even rougher but long overdue end. You know nobody here, a clean slate to draw new blueprints on.

Two weeks in and despite your grumpy hermit ways, you are friendly with some of your neighbours already. They are nice, helpful people which is a win you take like it was a million bucks.

Three weeks in, you fall down a flight of stairs, break your leg and bump your head. Brilliant.

Back from the ER you sink into your bed, looking at still unpacked boxes and biting back bitter tears of frustration when your phone beeps. You eye it suspiciously, anxious your past might be knocking already, bloodhounds of days past sniffing your weakend state and their chance to inflict a little more pain.

You figure you're overracting, turn on the sceen and find a message from an unknown number.

[Hey Rick. Sorry to drop this on you on such short notice, but I won't make it to your get-home-from-prison party tonight. I can swing by next week with a six-pack or something. You have a good time, yeah? I'll explain when we see each other.]

[Hey there. I'm afraid you got the wrong number. I don't know any Ricks. But gratulations to him from me for getting out of prison, when you get a chance. Unless he's a serial killer or something comparable. Then I want you to run.]

[Well, shit. Sorry.]

And then after a few seconds: [I get back to you in case I need a place to hide.]

And somehow this sparks a conversation that lasts for hours. His name is Eddie, you learn after some minutes of back and forth which are unsuspectedly remarkably funny. But he's surprisingly also really concerned about your leg and your mild concussion and the fact that you mentioned you will give yourself one day of rest and then try to catch up on and get as much stuff done as you can with your cast and crutches. Luckily you can work from home, you say. Eddie isn't sure how he feels about that.

He makes you swear you take it easy. He asks if there are people that can take care of you and you lie to that concerned stranger who is the first person to make you laugh out loud in a too long time. You tell him your friends are taking turns to look after you. Why lie to a stranger? It's complicated... He keeps checking in, keeps chatting with you about all kinds of things all day long no matter what he has to do: Work, band practice, DnD, being out with friends or his uncle, Eddie keeps lighting up your phone all day long. The later the day, the deeper your conversations and you soon get the feeling that Eddie isn't all just fun and jokes but when you actually try to poke softly, he evades you.

[When you feel better and still are interested in my bullshit, I'll share. Promise.]

Okay, fine. Why would he want to trust you with his private struggles? He's just a stranger, with friends and an support system, who probably will lose interest to invest his time into you sooner than he himself is expecting. Which is fine... really... would be fine if he wasn't really funny... and interesting with a hundred interests and hobbies... and so weird and oddly caring... and living on the other side of the country.

But four days in and you wake up with a text from him, asking you if you finally could sleep a little better than the days before.

And then at 3am and endless hours of exchanging messages filled with thoughs and musings and dreams, he offers to send you a copy of a book he is sure you would enjoy. That he really needs... you to read for important reasons. One of them is to remedy the boredom inflicted by bedrest in those hours Eddie is busy and can't entertain you.

You give him your address almost without second thought, despite your mind telling you to maybe think about it first...

You had avoided anything outside of texts - no pictures, no calls - and he hadn't pressed the matter by himself. Which was a relief because you're not sure if you could witstand the temptation if he were to offer.

Getting more pieces of him... It just felt too dangerous. But a book was just a book, right?

You rely on your 72 year old neighbour for food and other errands and chores around your place. Mrs P is such a sweet old lady eager to help as much as she can, bending over backwards for you. So you naturally try to bother her only when it's really dire.

Seven days in and you see the postman stuff a small parcel into your mailbox. You hurry to snatch your crutches, not even thinking about what you are doing and you limp down the six stories to your mailbox way too fast. Your head is not happy and neither is your leg and it takes you and your ego ages and all your strength to get back up to your apartment.

You fall into your bed, exhausted, sweaty and in pain and crying in frustration and you fall asleep on the package from Eddie before you can even think of opening it.

Your phone rings and wakes you up when it's already pitch black outside. You've slept most of the day away.

Answering the phone on autopilot, still half asleep you don't check the name on the screen.

"Yeah?" you drawl.

"Jesus fucking Christ you're alive."

"What--? I--"

"I haven't heard from you in hours and your messages sounded so antsy and sad all day and I had a bad feeling somehow. Are you ok? Did I wake you?"

"Eddie?"

"Yeah, sweetheart. Hi, that's my voice. Anxious edition."

You're overwhelmed. Finding no words while his words dig deep trenches of longing into your brain which are hard to get out of...

"You still there?"

"Uh-hn, yeah..."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. I just woke up, like you said. That's my voice. Sleepy edition."

And then he laughs. Oh god, what a sweet sweet sound.

"Hmm, sorry I just was really worried here..."

You tell Eddie there is nothing to worry about but that he's very sweet and he asks you if you have a little time to chat, tells you he likes your voice, likes it a lot and of course you have time but something weighs on you and the flutter of bats in your stomach.

You can't say if it's the aftershock of your staircase ordeal or the fact that your wonderful stranger keeps getting more and more real and more and more precious or a mixture of both. Suddenly there is silence on the other end of the line.

"Eddie? You still there?"

"Something's off."

You shuffle and feel the parcel poke into your ribs. You dig it out from under you, face heating up from two sources - the gift and his tone - and you start to fumble the parcel open.

"I'm sorry--"

"Don't be. I just want to help. Let me help."

You finally fully unwrap the book. It's a well loved worn paperback copy. You run your fingertips over every wrinkles and cracks in the cover. Your voice sounds dazed to your own ears when you speak.

"I got your book..."

"Oh. Okay, yeah, great. And?"

You notice the excitement in his voice, notice that it matches your heartbeat when you open the book and find it full of notes. On some pages the margines are completly filled with Eddie's toughts.

"I just unwrapped it, like, ten seconds ago."

"Oh."

"I didn't realize you would send me... such a personal thing... looks like a diary..."

"Kinda is. Too weird?"

You stare at his handwriting which is somewhat of an elegant scratch and all those little sketches and something inside you gives way.

"I'm not okay..."

"I know. Tell me?"

You tell him that you lied, that there were no friends despite your eldery neighbor looking after you and you tell him about your little ordeal this afternon and about feeling tired and lonely and scared and starved for joy and he listens through it all.

Now it will be too much, you think but then you look at the book in your lap and keep talking. When you're done, there is silence on the other end.

"You still there."

"Processing."

"Mad?"

"Nope."

"Too much?"

"For me?" He chuckles. It's bitter and wonderful. "Sweetheart, it's not me who's dealing with all that shit right now. If you can handle living it, I can handle listening to it..."

"I hear you swallowing a but."

"But I know what you're talking about..."

You talk a little longer and despite him saying everything is alright, something is different. He seems distant, distracted, not fully with you. You keep leafing through that book, gently tracing the lines that are proof of his existance, marks he left in the world, preparing for him to ask you to send it back as soon as you can. You prepare for him to realize this was a mistake. A charity case gone wrong.

Eventually you get tired and a headache and he tells you to go rest, voice soft and deep and you're preparing for this to be the last time you'll hear it.

"Sleep well, yeah?"

No more sweetheart.

"I will. You too."

"See you tomorrow."

"Bye."

You have a restless night and wake up to a message from him.

[Good Morning. How did you sleep?]

You smile, feeling stupid, like you overreacted and you exchange some messages but they are short and flat and there is still no sweetheart. Around noon, your phone has gone silent. Inside your chest, the echoes of disapointment are deafening.

You bury yourself in his book, and it feels like you're having a conversation with him through his notes for they are like direct replies to your own thoughts about the story unfolding. You can't put it down, probably look up from it for the first time in hours late in the evening when you're full on crying, holding the book away from you to not get tears or snot on it.

And then there is a knock at your door. Three sharp raps. Quick.

And you think it must be Mrs P with your groceries, you feel guilty that she has to carry all the stuff upstairs while her knee is bothering her. You make your way out of bed, get your crutch and slowly move towards the door.

"Coming!"

You realize you still have the book in your hand and you wedge it under your arm to open your door and--

"Hi."

Your heart is racing as your mind tries to keep up with what is happening. You consider pinching yourself, consider reaching out to touch him, see if he's made of flesh and blood or delirium, feel the dip of a frown-made crease betwen his brows under your fingertips, the fine stubble on his cheeks under the slide of your thumb.

"That's my face. Worried edition... why are you crying?"

You lean against the crutch, wipe at your cheeks with one hand, dry your fingers on your shirt and pluck the book from under your arm, holding it up wordlessly. Eddie's face lights up in a big, wide, gorgeous smile. Now there are dimples you want to explore. Suddenly the floor is moving.

"Easy, easy." Warm hands steady you. You hear the door fall close behind you and then it finally dawns on you.

The dreamy guy from inside your phone is inside your flat.

He's holding you steady by your shoulders on outstreched arms, searching your face with big, incredibly dark eyes.

God he's fucking beautiful.

"You gonna faint, beautiful?"

You shake your head. That's all you can do.

"I'm going to use your very understandable shock to ramble for a moment, okay? Okay. The obvious first. What the fuck am I doing here without invitation? Offering you my help. I rearranged all my shit and I can stay for two weeks, if you like. I have a hotel room booked and ready if you don't want me to stay the nights. Next: Why didn't I ask on the phone first? Because I kinda feared you would just say no and be all tough and stupid about needing help. I am way more charming in person and I was counting on me actually being here, a real guy, showing you that I mean it, would make it easier to convince you... Am I pushy? Yeah. I guess I am. But... if you really want me to piss off again, I will piss off. We pretend that I was just getting back my book because you're not fit to get to the post office right now and I'll never bother you again... but I could stay and make you dinner while you tell me which part of the book made you cry, decide over my fate when you're fed and calmed down? I left a whole load of food with your neighbor downstairs. Nice lady. Thinks you're a stubborn thing, by the way."

You swallow around something enourmous and try your vocal cords on something simple.

"Hi."

He tilts his head, smiles softly.

"Hey sweetheart."

You inhale deeply. Your exhale either carries bravery or invites doom but suddenly you're really, really hungry...

"You're really here."

"Yeah, shit, I know... to be honest, my knees are really wobbly right now?"

"You're crazy."

"Hmm, totally... bad case... started about a week ago..."

And there you see it. He's nervous too. That finally makes him real.

"So," you say, reaching out to cup his cheek, your touch coaxing out those dimples again. "What's for dinner then?"

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #long fics I will never write #my fic

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writersdrug · 1 month

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Ghost x Reader x Konig: I Don't Need You (Ch. 10)

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Summary: Thankfully, things have been resolved between you and Konig. You start to settle in more with your team, and Roze shares a few thoughts with you over a smoke. The memories are still there, but just like the winter around you, they're cold and unwelcoming. You and Konig open up to each other a bit more, more than you had ever opened up to anyone.

WARNINGS: implications of masturbation, cursing, angst (if you squint?), plot building, graphic depictions of animal torture and death (PLEASE CONSIDER ALL WARNINGS BEFORE READING THIS, I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE MEDIA YOU CONSUME thank you kindly)

Notes: Yes! Hello! I exist!! I've been in a slump, and I really do apologize for that. Many of you have been very patient with me and I love and appreciate you all for it! I had to intake as much CoD literature as I could in the past few weeks to get me motivated, which helped a LOT (not to mention I discovered no fewer than ten works that currently have a hold on my heart). But it's here! I forced myself to write over half of the following chapter so that it would be less daunting to finish up. I also plan to make a wip post for yall, just to share will everyone what goes on in my rat brain.

This was edited at 3 am (god it's 4 am now, i just saw that), so if there are any grammatical or spelling errors you have my full consent to call me out on it! Please enjoy!

(sidenote, I completely didn't research how old you need to be to become a navy SEAL, so reader's age is a bit inaccurate in regards to that. pls ignore lol)

(last sidenote then you can read, does anyone have tips for customizing the layout of their fics? I see so many cool ways to style the font and cute banners and errything but I have no idea how nor what to do)

- - - -

The sky hung low with a blanket of gray. It looked like it was about to snow, although the threat was soon dismissed when noon came around and there wasn’t a single flake. The air was cold and dry, forcing me to zip my jacket up all the way and tuck my nose into the collar. I blew steady, warm breaths into my jacket and tried to soak up the heat into my bones.

It was as if the incident had never happened.

Konig and I ended up driving to the liquor store, which was a blessing, since I had run out of Yeungling (and I didn’t understand enough Turkish to converse with the clerk, nor did I have any of the appropriate money – Konig was graced with both of those necessities). We talked like there had never been a week and a half of silence between us. He talked about how he had nearly forced Ridgeback to drag me out of my room and into the common area, “… but it would have been too early for that.” He commented. That, and I would have rather died.

So life went on as normal: dreary, aside from shooting people and getting shot at. Nonetheless, it was normal, and there was a peace to be found in that.

I leaned against the building to the training room, with Roze to my left. I had intended to come out and soak up whatever natural light I could – when I saw her standing there, possibly trying to do the same, I felt the instinct to play it off as if I was just leaving the building. But she cocked her head in a greeting, and a part of me took an interest in her worry-free aura. Out of everyone, she always seemed to be the least-stressed person in the room, even in the middle of a warzone. It was the balm to my anxious mind that I never knew I needed, but gratefully stood by.

We remained together in a comfortable silence (one I would most definitely would not have been comfortable with a while ago), staring ahead, watching the indecisiveness of the brooding clouds above. I wondered what the rest of the world was doing – if they might have been as calm and carefree as us, or if they were in some kind of peril, and the horrors of it were blocked out by the clouds.

I was drawn back to the present when I heard the click click click of Roze’s lighter. I turned my head and watched as she shielded the weak flame from the wind, lighting the cigarette that hung loosely from her lips.

“You smoke?” I asked.

“Sure do.” She replied nonchalantly. “Want one?” she extended her pack of cigarettes towards me.

I glanced at the box, feeling a sour taste in my mouth.

I lay on my stomach, my muscles still twitching and shaking as I tried to even out my breaths. Ghost had tossed a thin blanket over my lower half. I hadn’t even moved from the position he had ruthlessly fucked me in – my body ached too much to even try, and my mind was still recovering from the past hour.

I watch Ghost as he reclined next to me, pushing the bottom of his mask up to place a cigarette between his lips. It was the first time I had seen any part of his face all day. He grabbed his lighter from the pocket of his pants that were discarded on the floor, lighting the end of the cigarette and inhaling. He tossed the lighter back down to the floor as he tilted his head back, exhaling a long stream of smoke. I watched it swirl in the lamplight, settling in a cloud around us. He continued puffing, staring at the wall across from the bed as I lay beside him, although I felt worlds away from him.

He'd started off the night with a mountain of stress from a mission gone sideways. Instead of the usual slow build, where he would run his hands under my shirt and kiss my lips slowly and tenderly – he had walked in and immediately demanded I remove my clothes while he began stripping out of his. I had assumed tonight was going to be a passionate one, until he threw me onto my stomach and shoved my face into the pillows. It wasn’t the first time he’d been rough with me, but it wasn’t just rough – it felt dehumanizing. An hour of constant, merciless thrusts, and a hand around my neck that restricted both my blood flow and my oxygen, and I had fallen into a state of shock.

But, in the end, I was happy to be caged in by him again.

I was happy.

He turned his eyes towards me, seeming to sense that something was off. He exhaled another puff of smoke. “Everythin’ alright?” he asked, completely void of any genuine concern.

I met his eyes with my own. I felt like I shouldn’t have to answer the question, and it stirred up a bitterness in me. But I didn’t feel like arguing with him, and I certainly didn’t want him to leave – so I nodded my head, slowly blinking my eyes. “Just tired.”

He hummed and faced the wall again. He brought one of his knees up and rested his arm against it. “Want a smoke?” he asked, still looking away.

I shook my head as much as the pillow beneath me would allow. “No.” I replied.

He sighed disappointedly. Apparently, my lack of enthusiasm after being used like an old fucktoy was irking him.

To be fair, I never spoke up about how I felt.

He grunted and rose from his position, snuffing out his cigarette in the ashtray by my bed, and picking up his clothes and pulling them on. My heart ached slightly as I watched him slide his shirt over his torso. I felt the threat of tears sting in my eyes as I wished his hands were holding me instead, keeping me warm and grounded. He pulled his jeans on and fastened them, buckling his belt rather quickly; and all while he faced away from me.

“Well, I know you probably need some alone time.” He muttered, sliding the skull attachment over his mask. “So I’ll get going. I’ll see you around.”

He grabbed his tactical vest and jacket and slung them over his shoulder. He paused by the door. “Thanks for tonight.” He mumbled, before finally leaving the room and softly closing the door behind him.

My eyes lingered on the ashtray with the half-smoked cigarette. A thin trail of smoke plumed into the air – I wanted to throw the tray across the room and shatter it. But it was Ghost’s, so I couldn’t; I couldn’t regardless, because it was a piece of him that remained with me, even when he left.

That, and the smell of smoke.

“Nah, I’m good.” I replied, facing the cold, empty base ahead of me.

“Good.” She said, pinching the cigarette and blowing a stream of smoke. “Stay that way. Did you know these bastards give you cancer?”

I chuckled into the collar of my jacket. “Do they, now?”

She hummed affirmatively, sucking another breath in through the cancerous bastard. “Who would’ve thought…”

We fell back into silence. I continued watching the stillness of the base, trying to see if the sky would follow through with its promise to fall. Now that my free time wasn’t spent holed up in my room, it somehow felt like there were fewer ways to spend it. With another mission on the horizon – a simple recon, yet dauntingly close to a heavily-guarded compound – no one was out and about when they usually were. Finding Roze outside and seemingly not worried was usual, however, and a warm sight, compared to how the rest of the team was on edge. Even Askel seemed grumpier than most days.

I hadn’t been seeking out someone to spend time with, no… that I would never do (or admit). But talking to a familiar face provided a comfort I had grown to need over the past couple of months. And, frankly, I felt like Konig might be getting tired of how much I ran to him when I craved social interaction. Though he had never said anything about it, I felt like I needed to branch out to other team members than just my Colonel. One might think I was trying to kiss his ass (I knew the accusation had already crossed Juno’s mind, but the young soldier was good at holding his tongue – when Konig was around, at least).

“You ever think about how ‘little girl’ you would react to this?” Roze asked, and I turned to face her. She had her nose scrunched, and a tinge of pink dusted over her cold cheeks. “Guns, war, no playdates or days at the beach…”

I sighed. “Probably would have cried.” I replied, allowing my freezing nose to poke over the collar of my jacket. “Especially if I had known that being a princess now adays meant spending more time worrying about becoming a hostage than anything else.”

Roze chuckled. “It’s a good thing we didn’t know then.” Her face was mostly blank, but I thought I noticed a hint of bitterness in the way her gaze landed on the ground. I watched her flick her cigarette with a bit more aggression than usual. “I would’ve tried to convince my entire family to run away to Scotland, live in hiding and pretend the rest of the world was a dream.”

“Scotland?” I asked. Soap’s cocky grin and heavy Scottish accent stirred in my mind, but it felt like nothing more than a small cloud of dust.

“Yeah – heard it’s fucking gorgeous over there.” She waved her cigarette in no particular direction. “Now, I don’t know how peaceful it is in terms of politics and war, but it’s pretty spacious. Simple, too. I feel like if I talked about throwing all my shit away and becoming a fisherman for a living, I wouldn’t get people trying to talk me out of it like I would in the States.” She took another drag, and laughed out the smoke.

“Fisherman?”

“Yeah.” She chuckled, a hardened smile gracing her lips. “I don’t know why it sounds so appealing… it just does.”

I hummed and looked back out at the compound. I wondered about Roze’s past; she had never said or done anything to indicate that it was particularly rough, as it was for the majority of us (us – I still wasn’t used to including myself, but it was becoming more of a habit each time), but the weariness in her eyes when she spoke about her younger self made me question what that girl had been through. Maybe it was just nostalgia. A yen for simpler times. Roze seemed to appreciate the simple things in life.

“You know Askel goes ice fishing?” she said suddenly.

I smiled underneath my jacket. “Seems like something he would do.”

“Every winter.” She continued. She dropped her cigarette to the floor and crushed it into the gravel. “He takes about three weeks of leave, if we’re lucky enough to get it, and goes to Norway. Sits on a frozen lake for hours a day, just waiting for a fish.”

“You make it sound like he’s never caught one.” I point out, my eyes lingering on the cigarette.

She shrugged her shoulders. “So does he. Every time I ask him what he caught, he just laughs. Says he’s never expects to get a bite.”

I closed my eyes and hummed in response. It was easy to picture the scene – Askel, sitting on a thick layer of ice, nursing the hoppy beers that he and Konig loved so much and waiting for a fish to bite. I wondered if he even bothered to reel the line in when he did catch something. Or if he even went fishing at all. Maybe he just went out there to get a sense of peace, to pretend that war and death didn’t exist.

The motion of thick, heavy snowflakes falling from the sky caught my attention. They landed on the skin of my nose, resisting the warmth for a few moments, before they eventually melted into trickles of water. A sudden gust of wind blew a flurry of them towards us, making the both of us flinch.

Maybe fishing doesn’t sound too bad.

- - - -

The shooting range was mostly silent, save for the occasional conversation between me and Konig. The lights were low, easily illuminating the gunpowder and dust swirling in the air. Konig and I stared at the paper target as we analyzed my shots. A few hit dead center, although most of them were clustered around the lower left of the bullseye. My lips were pursed into a scowl as I glared at my sub-par aim – it wasn’t typically so awful, but of course it was while Konig had been watching.

“Eh, are you sure you didn’t lie on your paperwork about being a sniper?” Konig asked as he stood behind my left shoulder, taking the target from my hands and looking at it closely. “You weren’t even ten yards from it. This is very poor marksmanship.”

I scowled in embarrassment, taking my pistol to the counter and pulling out the mag. “Rough day.” I answered bluntly as I started packing more bullets into the small compartment. It wasn’t a lie – I had barely gotten any sleep the night before. I was in the middle of a rather interesting dream involving me and Ghost, until my alarm woke me up before anything of importance happened.

“Very bad…” he mumbled to himself. I clicked my tongue in annoyance.

“Y’know…” I grumbled, loading the mag back into the gun and shoving it in my holster, “I don’t like stereotyping, but the boot really does fit you.” I walked past him and out into the hallway, not waiting for him to follow.

“Hmm?” he made an indignant noise, momentarily stuck in his spot, before he came jogging after me. “What does that mean? What stereotype?”

I chuckled. “Haven’t you ever how Germans are extremely blunt?” I asked.

“Austrian.” He retorted. “Do I need to brand that onto my face for you?”

“Wouldn’t do me much good, with the mask ‘n all.” I replied.

He laughed – rather snorted, as usual – “Ah, you’re right. Maybe I am blunt – just as much as you are defensive.”

I stopped at the end of the hall, right in front of the exit. “Defe-“ I turned on my heel to scowl at him. “I am not defensive! Where did you get that idea?!”

He stopped behind me, his eyes widening. He gestured an open palm in my direction. “This.”

I huffed, turning back around to punch the door open. The snow from earlier that day had ceased, blanketing the base in a thin layer of white. The moon seemed that much brighter against the crystalized ground, and the yellow lights scattered across the compound made parts of the snow look like sandy dunes. My nose tingled from the nip of the chilly air, and I pulled my jacket tighter around my body as the door fell shut behind me and Konig.

“Well, what am I supposed to say when you call me defensive?”

“You could agree.”

“But I don’t.”

“Which proves my point.”

I huffed in frustration, despite the smirk curling on the edges of my lips. “So, either I have to agree with you, whether I really do or don’t, or you’ve corralled me into a paradox.”

I can practically hear the gears turning in his head. “A what?”

“A paradox, like a – y’know, never mind. It’s too difficult to explain.” I let him fall in step next to me, although he was the one who needed to slow down to match my pace. “We can just agree to disagree, how’s that?”

“Agreed.” He nodded, and I chuckled. “It won’t change the fact that I’m right, you know.” He added.

I bit my lip and tried to keep my smile from growing ridiculously larger. I looked up at him and patted his shoulder – he looked down at me, and the corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled back. A stray, reddish-brown curl poked through the side of his balaclava, and I found the miniscule detail warming my heart through the cold air. He felt real, and in this moment, too human for this kind of life.

“Why did you choose the military?” I asked, turning back to look at the ground as we walked.

He hummed. “Isn’t that every boy’s dream?”

“Well, yes – but most of the time, it never becomes more than that.” I responded.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, mimicking my own position. “I’m not really sure what made me push so much for it. I almost didn’t make it, for obvious reasons.”

I chuckled. “Size does matter, huh?”

He looked down at me with a deadpan gaze, one that I refused to meet. “It almost did, in a bad way. And I almost backed out before they could be the ones to turn me away. But, of course, they knew they would find some use for my size – so they took me in.”

“And what did they do with you?” I asked, looking back at him.

“A ‘human battering ram,’ as my superiors had so nicely called it.” He framed the description with his hands in the air, as if it had been written on a plaque. I laughed and looked back down at my feet.

“Seriously?” I asked. “So they just had you breaking down doors, and then what?”

Konig laughed with me. “Well, I still had a gun, so I was able to shoot, thank goodness. And I had a bit more gear so I wouldn’t break my bones against the doors – I still dislocated my shoulder a few times, however…” he rolled his left shoulder, as if there was still a lingering pain from how often he had thrown himself at doors. “It was actually during a period of recovery when I proved that I could still be a sniper. My shoulder was still healing, so I had to give up being a battering ram for a while. I was sat with Horangi on the side of the mountain to give him cover. Of course, he was ambushed – he had to fight the Arschgiege right when we were given the order to shoot, so I had to take position behind the gun.” I noticed that his chest was puffed out a bit from pride. “That really knocked their pants off.”

I chuckled, choosing to ignore the inaccuracy of his phrase. “Did it now?”

“It did.” He replied, then looked at the ground. “For a moment. I got a good earful for overstepping boundaries that day, but it’s what ultimately landed me here – so I’m grateful for it.”

I nodded and hummed. “What was Horangi picked for?”

Konig shrugged, his hands now back in his pockets. “He never said what he and Commander had spoken about in his office. But, even if he wasn’t chosen – I like to think we come as a package. If I go, he goes, if he doesn’t, I don’t.”

I felt my heart warm at his words. The memory of how Juno had described Konig couldn’t be farther from my mind. It almost felt like I was talking to someone I briefly crossed paths with in my youth – not a war criminal, not the bloody and stiff soldier who had stepped onto the heli after our first mission. I envied his ability to separate his work stress from the time he had in between missions.

“Why did you decide to join?” He asked, catching me off guard.

It was only fair that I opened up to him, since he was so willing to do the same. Always the one to go first, too. But I had to be careful. I didn’t want this to turn into a pity party, and I didn’t want to dig anything up that I had worked so hard to bury deep beneath my subconscious.

“I was… a weird kid. Like you.” I said, making Konig scoff and roll his eyes. “Looking back now, I hate my younger self. I was so sensitive to what people thought about me, and I just wanted to be independent and strong. I wanted to be a ‘different girl.’” I gritted out the words that left a sour taste in my mouth. “I think I just wanted attention at first – of course, when I heard how everyone said they hated how annoying teenage girls were, and how gullible and weak they were, it just – it made me change. I wanted to prove everyone wrong, it wasn’t just about being different anymore. So, as soon as I turned old enough, I enlisted. Didn’t get to Navy SEAL right away, of course… but I joined every program I was allowed in until I could submit my application.”

I sighed, then chuckled. “Thought my family would say they were proud, that I was successful, that I was doing a good job… they were just angry. Said I was throwing my life away for business that didn’t involve our country.” I opened my mouth to say more, but I ended up scoffing and closing it once again. I felt like I had shared enough.

I looked at Konig, expecting him to acknowledge what I said. “That’s how the story goes…” he would say. But, when I met his gaze, I only saw concern. His brow was creased with what I imagined was pity, and my stomach churned. It was the exact opposite of the reaction I had hoped for. I only wanted to share stories with him, and now it was… this.

“I think you made the right choices.” He said, and I looked away.

“You don’t need to make me feel better, Konig. I appreciate it, but-“

“I’m not just trying to make you feel better.” He said, his accent slightly thicker from his exasperation. “You’re good at what you do. Your parents are just probably worried for you, and they don’t know how to show it.”

I bit down on my tongue, my eyes settling on the building in front of us with a hard expression. If only.

“Maybe that’s it.” I muttered, hoping he would drop the subject. He seemed to understand, and turned to look ahead with a disappointed sigh. My heart sank the tiniest bit at the sound, and I internally scolded myself. Still a people-pleaser, apparently.

We continued walking in silence, the buzz of the lights above us mimicking the static of a communication system that had been severed in a time where it was needed most. The edge of the barracks appeared into our view, just around the corner of the arsenal sheds that stood between us and our destination. I continued to stare at the ground, pretending to watch my steps and try to not slip on the snowy asphalt. My heart twisted with each second of silence that sat thickly between us. It wasn’t technically a fight, but somehow, it felt worse. It felt like the first time I had pissed him off, the first time we had spoken to each other – and god, did I already hate myself for the way I had acted towards him during those first few weeks. I didn’t want to drive another wedge between us, not after the ones that had already been worked back out.

I exhaled heavily through my nose. “Sorry.” I mumbled quietly, but loud enough that I knew it reached his ears. “Sensitive topics.”

He flitted his eyes in my direction, but didn’t bother to move his head. He sighed, and I nearly jolted when I felt his wide hand on my upper back. It rubbed back and forth, and it took me an embarrassingly long time to realize that he was comforting me. Or, trying to, at least.

“I know.” He said, and his hand rested on my shoulder. “I’m sorry for pushing you.”

I didn’t know how to respond. I was stuck on the feeling of the roughness of his palm, which I could gleam through the fabric of my jacket. How his fingers squeezed gently and released twice. There was no hidden meaning, no forced contact or any kind of attempt to put context into the touch. It was… natural. Warm, comforting, and it spoke a thousand words that I wouldn’t have been able to stomach if he had said them. It broke past my self-hatred and walls of ‘don’t be weak’ that I would have used as my defense if he had tried to verbally convey any sort of consolation. It was the first time I didn’t feel awkward about being so close to him, let alone when he was touching me. I wondered if he did this on purpose, or if he had no idea what he was doing at all.

I let myself stand nearer to him, almost tucked under his arm. I looked up and smiled as genuinely as I could – not that it was hard for me, but because I wanted to make sure that he really knew how much I appreciated the gesture. Although, if he knew that this simple act of comfort would pierce through my outer shell, was it really necessary?

“Thank you, Konig.” I said.

He looked down at me and smiled. That damn smile. I wondered how much more refreshing it would be when he wasn’t wearing his mask. It was already too much for my soul to bear when it was just the crinkling in his eyes that I could see.

“Anytime, Bonnie.” He replied, patting my shoulder before tucking his hand back into his pocket. I grieved minimally at the loss of the touch, but I was happy for what it was. “And I mean it. Anytime you need to talk – or not talk, and do that empty staring that you do – just come find me.”

I quirked an eyebrow in his direction. “Anytime?” I asked amusedly.

“Mhm!” Konig replied, his eyes on the ground as he watched his steps. Then, the realization hit him, and his eyes went wide with panic. “Oh- well, eh- I guess, not anytime-“

“You gonna tell me when?” I joked, and he laughed. “You need an open/closed sign on your door.” I jogged ahead, trying to reach the door to the barracks before he did.

“How about this?” he called out, and I could hear the grin behind his mask. “I’ll nail a chalkboard to my door, and if I’m busy, I’ll draw a stick guy jerking off in his bed!”

My cheeks burned after I heard him. “No!” I shrieked, laughing nervously. “You’ll traumatize Juno!” I quickly tried to pin this on someone other than me.

“Juno, hah?” Konig teased, and I had half a mind to run into the building and leave him on the quad. “I don’t care about him. Kid needs to be traumatized.”

I laughed and threw my head back, turning the corner around the arsenal shed. “That’s not very-“

Immediately, my heart leapt into my throat, and I gasped. Konig nearly ran into my back as he skidded to a halt.

Sick, sick, what the fuck, I feel sick-

“Stimmt etwas nicht?” he asked, concerned. “What- oh, scheisse-“

We both stared at the bird on the ground. A crow from the looks of it, though it was hard to even decipher that it was a bird in the first place, due to the state it was in. Its belly had been cut open, entrails and bloody bits pulled from the abdomen and strewn to either side of the bird. Its wings were stretched to their full capacity and most likely beyond it, crushed and missing a large number of feathers. Both of the legs appeared to have been ripped off and tossed to the left of the crow. Its beak was the worst of it all: pried open, the jaw probably broken from how wide it was spread. A haunting look of terror in the crow’s red, glossy eyes made a violent shiver run up my spine.

I exhaled shakily, my eyes still glued to the horror. “Holy shit – what the-“

Konig quickly walked around me and knelt in front of the crow. I shifted to look over his shoulder, still fearfully curious, but he held a hand out behind him, urging me to stay in place. With his other hand, he pulled at one of the bird’s wings, stiff and heavy. Whether it was frozen from the cold, or this was the effects from rigor mortis, I couldn’t tell.

“How – did a fucking fox do that?!” I asked. Are there even foxes in this area? How the hell did one get on base?

“Nein.” Konig replied, still looking at the corpse. His gaze fell upon it with a sense of… familiarity, maybe? “Not a fox, no.”

“Then what? It – whatever it was didn’t even eat-“

“I’ll take care of this.” Was all Konig said. He stood up and marched past me – I was barely able to catch a glimpse of his furious expression. His eyes were hard and narrow, and as he walked away, I noticed that his shoulders were tense and his hands were balled into fists. I didn’t dare say anything to him; he almost looked the same way he did after our first mission together, except this time, his anger seemed to be directed at something, instead of just a post-mission adrenaline high.

“I’ll see you later.” He said over his shoulder. There was an obvious fury to his words, and although I knew it wasn’t intended towards me, it still made me freeze where I stood – almost as if I might anger him more simply by taking a step after him.

Whatever it is… I thought, watching him disappear into the compound, he’s sorting it out. I can take care of myself. Although, with such an abrupt and tense departure, I was at a loss on what to do next. I looked back at the bird; its terrified eyes locked onto the sky above it, frozen in its last wish to fly away from whatever horror it endured.

A shiver ran up my spine, prompting me to look away.

- - - -

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#konig x reader #konig x reader smut #konig cod #konig smut #call of duty #cod x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x reader smut #ghost cod #cod #konig #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader

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