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#even an entire dining table
nerdie-faerie · 10 months
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Having a complicated relationship with your mum is so confusing. It's the knowledge that she taught me the best way to make gravy, how tie my shoes and how to make my bed. But she's also the one that made disparaging comments about my body growing up and is part of the reason I don't want to be a parent myself and why I moved across the country for uni. But she's still my mum and I still find myself wishing I could seek comfort from her when things get a little too hard but the mum I'm longing for doesn't really exist. And I see her in the colour of my eyes and in the way I grit my teeth when I'm angry. She taught me how to do my hair and how to cover up bruises. She's a part of me in all the good and the bad. And there's no way to say you hate someone that doesn't also acknowledge all the good because nothings as ever as black and white as that
#personal#+Extra#i dont know i was making gravy for dinner the way my mum taught me and it got me thinking about how i havent spoken to her in over a week#since she told me that my dad is threatening to kick me out again and i started thinking about the fact im currently at empty student#accommodation for the summer instead of back home like most people anf how part of me feels guilty for that and the other knows im doing#whats best for me and theres a reason i left people keep asking why im so far up north for uni if im from down south and i dont know how to#explain it they look at you a certain way when you say you dont get along with your parents like your an entitled brat that cant see that#theyre just doing whats best for you and theres no way to explain two decades of trauma to someone in a single conversation theres no way#to get them to understand that despite what my parents do and the fact i went as far as i could for uni theyre still my parents and i love#them even when i hate them for everything and although ill being carrying the scars of childhood trauma with me long after ive left them i#cant entirely blame even when i want to they made terrible choice that have shaped me for ever but theyre still people and ill always#resent them for the people they are and the fact they could do better but didnt for us and the fact they fall back into those people like#a bad habit when i spend to long at home in a way that makes feel like theres something wrong with me specifically will always sit with me#but for now im stood in my kitchen making sheppards pie thinking of the way my mum used to make it and the tension that used to hang over#the dining table while we ate and how now my parents dont even eat in the same room and im grateful my little siblings will never know#that side of our parents but it doesnt mean it doesnt hurt every time i see a reflection of my parents in myself and wish i could cut it out
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academixs · 2 years
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imagine being able to afford rent on a 1-bedroom apartment or even a studio with no roommates............. a girl can dream
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szczek · 1 year
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i have never felt this much angry i’m tearing up and want to murder my dad
#how dare he say that to me#all i’ve been doing these past two weeks was declittering the house#i have cleaned out the entire bathroom and the goddamn kitchen so that theres space and everything has its own place#and there’s no expired things#and now there is an actual space to put groceries inside#and today i wanted to do the komoda in our dining room which btw doubles as his home office but also is on the middle of the goddamn house s#so you Have to go through it to go anywhere right#and he just asked if i’m finishing the cleanup now so i sad No cause i work 6 more hours - so after work#and he has the halls to get mad at me that i half as stuff and that the vacuum will be out here for the next two days cause i won’t do it#and that i left a crystal vase on the dining table for two weeks now and haven’t touched it like I DONT HAVE THE TIME TO DO EVEYTHING ALL AT#once okay!!! i will do it don’t talk to me like that#and going back to the dining room being his office it means every flat space is covered with his documents and i mean every#it’s the messiest shot ever cause he doesn’t think to keep it clean#and i’m the one that makes the mess#and now he tells me not to throw things cause i put down the remote loudly like i will do as i freaking please cause i’m furious and he has#ruined my good mood#all he has done after me cleaning is be mad that he can’t find things like i haven’t moved anything nowhere he just doesn’t even bother to#search if he doesn’t see smth immediately he gets mad and says we always hide stuff from him to annoy him#absolutely no gratitude from either of my parents i hate it here more often than not
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ohbo-ohno · 5 months
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Kinktober Day 31 - Free Use
Poly 141 x Reader - 4.3k (on ao3)
summary: Glimpses into your life as a housewife and free use toy for the 141 post-retirement. (Reader POV, second person)
cw: soft sex, half-drunk sex, light somnophilia, anal sex
note: last kinktober of the month! sorry i got off by a day at the end here, but i hope you guys have enjoyed everything so far :) btw this is less "free use" and more "sex with the 141 while living in domestic bliss"
Your days are filled with sex. Sex with all of your boys, in every position you can think of, in every room of the house they’d bought for the five of you after retiring. 
You all split the chores evenly these days. No one does more than they’re more comfortable with, and you’ve all found your stride, something to give you purpose, after the rigidity of the military.
Gaz has taken to bee-keeping. As odd as it sounds, he’s got the patience for it, and he’s quite protective of his bees, even has nearly an entire library of books he’s taught himself with. Price helps him out by selling the honey he harvests, keeping track of his profits and managing the household’s finances. 
Ghost hunts, spends his days out finding game to bring home, tracking herds and predators around your property. Johnny does a little of everything - fixes things when they break, chops firewood every morning, helps Simon skin his prey, tries to help Gaz and his bees. 
And you take care of the house. You make the meals, clean up after everyone, and find yourself perfectly happy to keep your men fed and warm. 
Your other chore is to bend over whenever they want. Well, bend into any position whenever they want, Ghost and Soap tend to enjoy getting a bit more creative. It’s not really much of a chore, considering how eager you are to do it.
It’s a great deal for you. Johnny and Kyle are always eager to get you off, and neither Simon nor Price is stingy with the orgasms these days either. You live your life floating between domestic labor and orgasms - not a bad existence, by your metric. You get to live without a care in the world, four men to take care of and four men to take care of you. It’s like a dream come true.
———————————————————————
You hum to yourself as you dance around the kitchen, wearing nothing but a frilly apron as you wait for your pancakes to cook. The small radio on the dining room table plays music from a local radio station, something cheery to start your day. It’s hard not to smile, with sunshine pouring in from the windows and a batch of fresh eggs to scramble on the stove. 
Your small moment of bliss is interrupted by a pair of hands on your hips and a large body bracketing yours.
There isn’t even a moment of fear, you instinctually lean back into the man behind you. A moment later, a rough beard brushes over your cheek.
“Pancakes this mornin’?” Price asks, big paws resting on the softness of your hips.
“Hmm,” you hum, tilting your head to claim his lips. He sways the two of you back and forth slowly, to the beat of the song, and lets you take your time with him. “Blueberries in yours,” you tell him when you come up for a breath of air.
One hand shifts to your ass, the other to your stomach, and you feel him smile. “Thank you, love. Got time for a quick round before they burn?”
You mimic his smile, let him bend you over slowly. “You’re just in time, Captain, I haven’t cracked the eggs yet.”
“Perfect,” he purrs, pressing himself to your backside. He tucks his plaid pajama pants down a little, rubbing his warm morning wood against you. You fold your arms beneath your head, let your eyes drift closed as his fingers make quick work of getting you ready.
Moments later, the heavy length of his cock fills you slowly. You moan, shifting your legs a little bit wider as he massages your waist.
“There you go,” he sighs, bottoming out and grinding himself slowly inside of you. “Tight as always, perfect girl.”
You giggle a little drowsily, wiggling your hips against his. “Always for you, John.”
He sighs contentedly, pulling out slowly. “Don’t I know it.”
He fucks you slowly, a steady pace that drags against all your most sensitive parts on every thrust. John’s thick, and the stretch isn’t quite comfortable with no prep. But you’re still a little loose from your time with Soap and Gaz last night, so it’s far from painful to take him.
He hunches over you as he gets closer and closer to the edge, elbows resting on either side of you and breath ghosting across your nape.
“Aw,” you hear Soap say,voice rough from sleep as he steps into the kitchen. “I wanted first go today.”
“Early bird gets the worm, Johnny,” Gaz teases, settling into a chair in the little breakfast nook Simon had built soon after moving in. “You’re the one who stayed up so late with her last night.”
“Wasn’t just me, jackass, you’re the one who-”
“Boys,” Price grunts, hips slamming against yours, leaving you squirming beneath him. “Will you shut the fuck up while I’m balls deep in our girl?”
You can’t help but snort beneath him, pushing yourself up enough to arch your back further, stick your ass further out for him. “Ye-yeah, boys.”
“Hush,” Price scolds, one hand shifting to your neck where he forces you flat to the counter again. “‘M almost there…”
He groans lowly as he buries himself deep inside of you, pumping slowly as you tighten up, trying to milk him. “Fuck, feels good…”
You smile against your arms as the pleasure that had been building inside of you starts to dull to a simmer, something warm in the root of you.
Price pulls out only moments later, two thick fingers tucking into you to keep any of his come from dripping out. “Keep me safe inside you, pretty thing, c’mon. Clench down.”
You take a deep breath and try your best to listen, straightening up and doing your best to keep yourself from dripping down your thighs. 
He turns you around, leaning you back against the counter and cupping your cheeks in his hands, tugging your face up to give you a soft kiss. “Thank you,” he whispers into your mouth, just quiet enough for you to hear.
“Of course.” You reach up to grab his wrists, holding him close. “Never gonna say no to you, John.”
The two of you linger in the moment, sunlight warming your skin as you breathe into each other.
It’s Soap that interrupts you, an intentionally obnoxious clearing of his throat nearly making you jump. “Any chance at coffee sometime today, bonnie?”
You huff a laugh into Price’s mouth, pushing him away and shooting a half-playful look to Johnny. “Can’t give me a minute of peace, can you?”
He smirks, “Nope.”
John scoffs as he pulls away, moving you with him and giving you a quick tap to the ass to send you over to the counter with the coffee machine. “Someone’s gotta teach you some patience, MacTavish.”
“If Ghost still hasn’t gotten it into him, no one is,” Gaz laughs, shifting enough for Price to join him on the bench. 
“Who says I haven’t?” Ghost says, stepping from the hallway. He’s already got a cigarette lit between his lips, and you wave him away with a spatula.
“No!” You scold, trying to shoo him closer to the window. “No smoking in my house! You know I hate the smell.”
Ghost rolls his eyes good-naturedly but lets you herd him to the open window, resting a shoulder on the windowsill and blowing a mouthful of air. You hmph, satisfied, and move to flip the pancakes. “You’re not the one who has to get that smoke out of all the furniture, you know.”
Ghost sighs, but he’s dramatic enough about it for you to know that he’s intentionally exaggerating his annoyance. “Awful early for all that nagging, woman.”
You glare at him playfully, picking up an egg to crack. “Awful early for a cig, too.”
He huffs and you crack your egg, the kitchen shifting into a comfortable silence. You continue your humming as the song changes to something more upbeat, unable to keep a smile from your face.
———————————————————————
You’re half tipsy, giggling into Soap’s mouth as the two of you stumble into the house. You manage to trip over the lip of the entrance, and you yelp as you start to fall.
Johnny just barely manages to twist and catch the both of you in time, grunting loudly as he hits the ground. The breath is knocked from the both of you, and you lay there in the dark for a moment, still.
You’re giggling as soon as you can breathe again, unable to stay still with all the energy and wiggling against his chest. “Jo-Johnny!”
“What?” He pants, still not fully able to take a breath in. You can see the outline of a smile, though, and his hands come up to fully cup your ass. “You were the one taht tripped, lass!” 
That only makes you laugh harder, kicking your feet against his shins. “I-I know!”
Now he laughs, a full-bellied sound that has you bouncing on his chest. He manages to push himself up so that you’re in his lap, and presses his mouth to yours without warning.
You make a high sound of surprise but quickly kiss him back, licking into his mouth when he parts his lips. 
Your kiss is messy, both of you a little too drunk and a little too needy to bother for tact. Johnny’s softer than he usually is, all tongue and no teeth. You wrap your arms around his neck, shifting so your knees rest on either side of him and squeeze his hips.
“Need you,” he pants into your mouth, shifting you over him to start a slow grind. “Need to be inside you, bonnie.”
“Yeah, please,” you say, quickly dropping your hands to his belt and clumsily working at his belt. It takes several tries for you to get it undone, and both of you get more and more desperate. Your underwear get more and more damp as you work yourself over the rough denim of his jeans, your skirt rucked up around your hips as he palms at your ass.
“Come on,” he growls, landing a harsh slap against the meat of your thigh. You yelp at the sting, then giggle, and finally manage to get his belt loose, quickly tugging it off.
“There you go,” you mumble, throwing the belt to the side and hearing it slide against the hardwood. “C’mon, c’mon, need you now, Johnny.”
He nearly snarls into your mouth, jerking your panties to the side and stuffing two fingers into you with no warning. You jolt higher on your knees and moan, digging your nails into his shoulder.
“Sit still,” he growls, tugging you back down and scissoring his fingers quickly to spread you. He slips a third finger in easily, your cunt already slick and dripping for him. “Stop fuckin’- stop wigglin’ around.”
You can’t help but giggle again, pushing your smile against his lips and nipping at his chin. “Can’t hold me down, MacTavish?”
You feel him grin, growling playfully, and before you can keep prodding him he’s got you flipped onto the floor beneath him. You squeal when he somehow manages to keep his fingers inside of you, pushing deep as he pins you down. He tucks your knees higher, both of your legs resting on his shoulders.
“I’ll show you held down, lass,” he growls, smile just barely visible above you. “Want it rough, then?”
You bite back another laugh, pushing up just enough to bite his bottom lip and tug it down with you. “As rough as you’ve got, MacTavish.”
It works as the perfect taunt you’d meant it as, and he’s buried in your tight heat before you can try and push him any further. Your head falls back against the hardwood floor as his falls to your throat, both of you moaning loudly as his hips meet your thighs.
“Fuck,” he groans, teeth pressed against your throat. When you arch your neck even further, he bites into your flesh, sucking a hicky and making you ever wetter between the thighs. “Fuck.”
“She tight, Johnny?”
You both yelp at the sudden voice, Johnny jolting away from your neck and shifting inside of you, causing you both to melt again.
There, in the corner of the room, is Ghost. He’s smoking a cigarette by the window, illuminated only by the glow of his cigarette butt and the moon. You can’t quite see his expression, but you can just imagine the cocky smirk.
Johnny groans above you, sinking back down to press kisses along your throat and forcing your knees almost to the side of your head. “Scared the shit outta’ me, Ghost,” he sighs, pulling out just enough to give you a few tiny thrusts. You moan, letting yourself relax into the floor.
“Not surprised,” Ghost says, and you watch as he stubs out the cigarette and take a few steps to where the two of you are tangled in each other. “How much did you two have to drink?”
You laugh at the question, but it melts into a moan as Johnny starts to find a rhythm that works for both of you. Your knees nearly knock against your own face as he makes his way across your neck, leaving bruising kisses. 
“Not-” you choke a bit on a particularly rough thrust, just barely managing to keep your eyes open and watch as Simon settles into an armchair. “Not that much.”
“Yeah,” Johnny pants, lifting himself up enough to look down at you. “How-how much’ve you had, L.t.?”
Ghost snorts, taking a swig from a beer bottle you hadn’t noticed before. “Less’n you two, I can tell that much.”
You and Johnny both snicker, half out of breath already, but none of you try and keep speaking as Johnny starts to really fuck into you, finding a perfect rhythm that’s just a little messier than usual, a little jerkier. 
The two of you make no attempt to be quiet, moaning and whining loudly as you work to find that peak. Even with folded in half as you are, you try to push into him as much as you can to help him hit the perfect spot inside of you. 
You nearly scream when he does, clenching down so tightly onto him that he’s forced to a still inside of you, his length throbbing in time with your heartbeat. 
The world blurs around you as Johnny takes your lips again, pressing your tongues together in a slick slide as he batters inside of you.
“Clo-close,” you gasp, clawing down his shoulders. Your nails dig in enough through his shirt to have him moaning, arching further into your touch.
“Me too, bonnie.”
He shifts enough to lean his weight further onto your thighs, newly freed hand smoothing down your chest and stomach to work against your clit. You melt beneath him, muscles going loose as you turn into nothing but a limp doll for him to fuck.
Your eyes squeeze shut as your orgasm starts to overcome you, Johnny’s work against your clit and the hot length inside of you finally shoving you over the edge.
“Fuck- fuck!” Johnny nearly shouts above you, your orgasm triggering his own. You cling tight to him, dragging his body as close to you as possible while your muscles clench down around him. The two of you are nearly drooling in each other’s mouths, eager for as much physical touch as possible.
It feels like an impossible amount of time later when you hear Ghost crouch down next to you, see his shadow cast over both you and Johnny. “You two done, then?”
You feel Johnny huff where he’s leaned against your cheek, feel his smile grow against yours. 
“Yeah, Si,” you say, squirming a bit beneath Johnny to try and get out from under him. “I think we’re done.”
Johnny gans a little but he obliges and shifts back enough for his softened cock to pull out of you. You both whine in sync at the separation, and he finally lets your legs fall to the ground, heels thudding against the floor.
Johnny rolls off of you, flopping to the floor next to you. “Carry us to bed, L.t.”
You giggle and blink up at Simon, softened from your orgasm and the lingering buzz from your night out. “Yeah, L.t.,” you lift your arms high, making grabby hands like a toddler. “Carry us to bed.”
Ghost snorts above you, but he still leans down and scoops you up beneath the knees and the back. You squeal when he hefts you over his shoulder into a fireman's carry. He ducks low again and you grasp onto the bottom of his sweatshirt, then giggle when Johnny flops bonelessly over Ghost’s other shoulder.
He carries the two of you effortlessly down the hall, and Johnny’s soft laugh joins yours - well, at least before you hear a muffled slap and he quiets himself/ Of course that only makes you laugh, earning you a spank of your own.
You’re dropped rather carelessly onto the massive mattress all five of you share these days, hand flopping against what you’re sure is Price’s chest as Ghost falls on top of Johnny where he’s dropped.
You hear a muffled oof! from next to you and curl into Price with a smile, tucking yourself close to his chest. He rumbles a low noise, instinctually tucking you close. You can hear Gaz getting annoyed with Ghost and Soap, feel him kicking at them to fight for his own spot on the mattress. You fall asleep with Ghost’s back to yours and Price’s chest to yours, surrounded by warmth.
———————————————————————
You groan into the sheets in frustration, fists clenched tight. “Simon, come on, please.”
He spanks you sharply, but the pain is hardly noticeable compared to the need you’re drowning in. 
“Quiet,” he grunts, three fingers spreading your ass. “Need to stretch you out properly, don’t want any tears.”
You whine, arching your back and pushing your ass further into the air. “I’m ready, I promise, just need you inside. I’ve been stretched for the last ten minutes!”
“And you’ll get stretched for ten more if you don’t quit complaining.”
It’s almost impossible to bite back a complaint at that, but you manage to dull it down to just a near-painful eye roll. You try your best to stay still for him, stay patient, even as you feel like your pussy is dripping like a faucet.
Ghost has fucked you with far less prep than this, you know he’s just trying to be an asshole - no pun intended. You also know that the more you rush him, the slower he’ll go. So you force yourself a little looser, let your body sink more comfortably into the position he’s got you in.
It doesn’t make the wait any easier.
You’re not sure how long it’s really been when he finally deems you stretched enough, but he finally pulls his fingers free. You whimper at the cold dribble of lube as he spreads a bit more across your stretched hole, the slick sounds echoing in the room telling you he’s likely spreading it across himself too.
“Alright, love,” he says, notching himself at your back hole with both hands on your hips. “Loosen up for me now.”
The stretch is sinful as he finally gives you his cock, enough for you to feel the sting but not at a painful point. Your eyes roll back in pleasure instead of frustration, and your knees shift just a little wider to welcome him more fully into your body.
“Fuck, you feel good<’ he grunts, grip tightening on your hip.
On a normal night with Ghost, you’d expect minimal prep and long rounds of edging. He likes to keep you from coming for as long as possible, then coax an orgasm that feels earthshattering from you when he finally shoves you off that ledge. Either that, or he fucks you quick and dirty - in the yard outside, in the shower, in the middle of the night, really any time he feels like getting off. With you around, there’s no need to masturbate. That leaves you getting bent over and used at any time he feels the slightest urge to get off, but you couldn’t mind less.
Now, though, Ghost paces himself far more slowly than usual. His thrusts are long, bottoming out and pulling back until the head of his cock just barely breaches your hole. If you couldn’t feel the way his hands bruise your hips, you’d almost call his pace leisurely. 
The two of you are near silent as he fucks you, content to fill the air with soft moans and the occasional whine instead of dirty talk. It feels nice, such slow sex with Simon. It’s a side of him he rarely lets you see, even now.
He knows you can’t come from anal alone, and is feeling generous enough to grab one of your hands and shift it down, telling you, “Rub your clit for me, love. Wanna feel you come.”
And, well, who are you to disobey?
You bring yourself to a slow, rolling orgasm with rhythmic circles against your clit, hips working against his even with his grip. You moan more loudly now, moith open and spit spreading across the pillow.
“Si-Simon,” you gasp. “Feels so good, so deep.”
“Yeah? Deep in your ass, huh, love?”
“Mhmm, mhmm. Can hardly br-breathe around you, Si.”
“I know, so big in your little hole. You’re taking me well, though, being such a good girl for me. Gonna - fuck, love - gonna make me come, give you a nice load then plug you up.”
“Yes, yes…”
“You want that? Want to be stuffed with my come? Keep me inside of you ‘til I say you can take the plug out?”
“Yes, I’ll keep it in for you, Si, be so good for you.”
“Oh, I know it, love. Always a good girl for me, most perfect girl… fuck, feel so good around me…”
He groans when he finally gets himself off, pulling you back onto his harsher thrusts and letting your channel squeeze the come from him. You rub your clit a few more times, ignoring the aftershocks in favor of forcing your muscles to milk him a bit.
When he finally pulls out, he tucks a good-sized plug into your loosened hole before any of his come can slip out. You shift from your knees to your stomach with a soft hum, tugging a pillow into your arms as your eyes drift shut.
“You stayin’ in here for a bit?” Ghost asks, brushing some of your hair away from your face and dipping down to press a dry kiss to your cheek.
“Hmm. Gonna take a nap before dinner.”
“Alright. Need any help tonight?”
“No,” you hum, curling deeper into the bedding. “You can set the table, if you really want.”
You hear him laugh as he pulls away, weight shifting off of the mattress. “I’ll leave that to Johnny, I think.”
A few moments later the door click softly shut behind him, and you float into a peaceful slumber while trying to half-plan dinner. 
———————————————————————
You’re half-asleep when you feel someone shift in bed next to you, their body covering yours. There’s a distinct hardness against the small of your back, and you press back against him.
“Stay still,” you hear Gaz whisper in your ear as he urges you further onto your stomach. You hum a little in response as he settles over you, kneeing your thighs apart enough for him to rest between them. “Don’t wanna wake anyone else up, right sweetheart?”
You hum again in what’s probably supposed to be agreement, but is really just a half-asleep sound. You trust all your boys, though, so you’re perfectly content to let Kyle do whatever he wants.
You sleep naked these days, so it’s easy for him to spread your cheeks a bit, to rub at your folds. You’re still a little damp from the shower sex with Price you’d had right before bed, and Kyle doesn’t seem to think you need much more than that.
You’re almost asleep again when you feel the tip of his cock at your hole, and then the familiar weight of him entering you. It’s hard not to groan, especially when you’re so dazed, but you think you do a good job.
Well, until Kyle shushes you loudly, stuffing a few of his fingers into your mouth. 
You make a small offended noise, but it shifts into a sound of pleasure when he sinks fully inside of you.
“Hush. Don’t wanna share you right now, just needed to feel you for a bit.”
You feel his hips shift against yours before he sort of falls to the side, taking you with him. You’re left spooning him, his cock buried deep inside of you and kept warm by your body.
He sighs, pleased, against your back and pulls his fingers from your mouth, letting his hand float down to rest on one of your breasts. He squeezes you for a few moments, but that only works you up more and has you squirming against him.
Kyle makes a small, whining noise and squeezes you more tightly to him. “Stay still, love. Just want to hold you, let you hold me. Go back to sleep, yeah?”
You sigh, debate trying to get him to finish what he started, but ultimately decide that it sounds like far too much work for your current state. 
So instead you let yourself relax into Gaz, body quickly adjusting to the weight and stretch of him. It’s easier than you might’ve thought to doze off like that, held close to Kyle’s chest.
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gallusrostromegalus · 5 months
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The Van Has Officially Declared It Spooky Season
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I've got my parent's van for the week and it seems determined to establish my status as The Local Cryptid by terrorizing an innocent 7-11 clerk.
...I might need to back up a bit.
My mother is an eminently sensible woman who knows herself well, and when The Plauge hit, she knew she'd need some sort of mentally and physically engaging craft project to keep herself from going insane and massacring the local zoning and water management boards (even if they have it coming). So she and Dad acquired a utility van and converted it into a camper van because while they love camping, they're past the age where their joints and immune systems will tolerate sleeping on the cold ground in a nylon tent.
They did a terrific job of it and my mom taught herself woodworking and carpentry and now the van has it's own cabinets, fold-away dining table, and removable queen-sized bed with memory foam mattress. My Dad was already a computer engineer, but he learned the dark magics of automotive software and electronics to install after-market backup cameras, a media player that would take a terabyte hard drive and a solar-powered battery and outlet so they could wake up and just turn on the kettle and griddle for breakfast without having to exit the van into a cold morning on an empty stomach.
Truly, the height of Camping Luxury.
My parents are both in their mid-seventies and my primary life goal is to be at least half as cool and hale as they are when I get old.
Anyway, they take it out at least a dozen times a year and it works fabulously, but, being as I am on good terms with my parents and also finishing the process of moving house, I've been borrowing it to move large and cumbersome objects that will not fit in the back of my equally lovely but minuscule Honda hatchback.
It's a Great Van. Very easy and comfortable to drive. Stunningly good MPG for it's size. The best cruise control I've ever had in a car.
It's just also. Quirky. Mischievous, even.
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If this van has a fault its that it bears the unfortunate affliction that all lightly used white utility vans have in that the combination of an utter lack of branding features and the large dent/scrape I accidentally put on it while trying to escape a Denny's last Thanksgiving means that this vehicle is one addition of a Badly Spray-Painted "FREE CANDY" on the side away from being the sort of vehicle you see in an edgy horror movie.
It's got the same issue that Doberman Dogs have where they look like the sort of creature that likes to snack on toddler's faces whilst actually having personalities made of marshmallow fluff. This vehicle is unnecessarily menacing and I think nothing short of an airbrushed Epic Van Wizard will correct this. People see this van pull up and lean over and squint suspiciously at me when the driver's side door opens, and then look moderately confused when, instead of Charles Manson, a small, potato-shaped creature with neon purple hair and a statistically unlikely assortment of dogs emerges.
My own two dogs, Herschel the Hanukkah Goblin/Corgi and Charleston Chew The Taco Dumpster Dog, Do Not Like The Van. Even with the bed in it, they have a tendency to slide and roll around in the back, and both WILL chew through dog saftey belts or other attempts to secure them in there.
On the other hand, my house mate's dog, an exceptionally tall standard poodle whom we lovingly call "The Creature", loves the Van because SHE wears her doggy seat-belt with only mild complaining and gets to sit up in the passenger seat like A People.
Also like A People, The Creature likes to stand and walk around on her hind legs. It doesn't hurt her and it's entirely voluntary, but every so often I will feel a hand on my arm and instead of my husband or friend, it's a canine that's taller than I am on her hind legs who wants to stare at my face with soulful, concerned eyes. The Creature's favorite thing is that she is exactly the right height for me to hold her arm in Genteel Fashion and walk around the pet food or hardware store with her like I'm a count escorting a debutante around a royal ball.
---
As it stands, I am set to inherit this vehicle whenever my Honda gives up the ghost, and I fully intend to paint an Epic Van Wizard on it when that time comes.
The other peculiarity of The Van is that while Dad did manage to successfully install all his after-market electronics, not all the electronics get along. Sometimes, they fight for Dominance. The Terabyte Music Player and the Backup Camera have a particularly contentious relationship, and turning on the music has about a 25% chance of turning on the backup camera as well, and turning on the Backup Camera is equally likely to turn on the music.
Firthermore, The Van has a favorite song.
I am not kidding that Dad filled an entire terabyte hard drive with music and the software to sort it via the radio controls, but of all the Early Boomer Dad Rock (Kingston Trio over The Eagles) and Irish Folk and Symphonies and the entire discography of Weird Al Yankovic, The Van's favorite song- The one it picks to play as victory music every time it beats the Backup Camera at their weird electronic game of rock-paper-scissors -is The Liberty Bell March by John Phillip Sousa.
You all know this song already.
...but in case you've forgotten the tune:
youtube
Yeah.
The Van's favorite song is the goddamn Monty Python's Flying Circus Theme Music.
It does not play this song at a normal volume.
Every time I turn on the Backup Camera and it manages to turn the music player on as well, The Van insists on absolutely blasting this nonsense on at the maximum volume it's physically capable of producing, which I know is loud enough to be heard from the Denver International Airport's Pickup zone when they Van decided to start playing it from the economy lot about half a mile away.
Perhaps it's The Van's way of honoring the aesthetic sensibilities and sonic enthusiasm of Mr. Sousa.
...I can't help but wonder if the purpose of an Epic Van Wizard is to control this sort of faerie-like malarkey, and channel these chaotic energies into things like Spell of Don't Break Down In Nevada or Enchantment Of Always Have Good Parking.
---
So last Friday the 13th, I get a call from my friend and housemate, at said airport.
It's roughly 11PM at night, and I have already retired for the evening. I am in the exact minimum of clothing required to be a decent housemate and not scandalize the neighbors should I happen to walk by a window. My feet are up. There is a cat in my lap and fictional British people murdering each other in highly inventive fashion on the tv. -But my friend has returned from her friend's wedding,and either American or United Airlines has managed to lose her luggage, including, among other valuable possessions, the keys to her car. ...So she cannot just drive home as originally planned.
There are, as luck would have it, her spare set of keys not eight feet from me.
Being a good and decent person, I agree to bring the spare keys to her so she may get home before daybreak and not spend a semester's worth of tuition on an uber across the greater Denver traffic jam.
Being also that she Loves Activities, and it's her mom we're going to pick up, I elect to take along The Creature.
I am primarily focused on remembering how to get to the airport and not leaving my friend's spare keys on the counter, so I throw on a pair of flip-flops, step outside, remember that it's AUTUMN and my minimal evening attire is not sufficient thermal protection, step back in, grab the first coat in the closet I lay hands on, pull it on, check that I have her keys again and leave.
The trip to the airport is largely unremarkable, save that it becomes necessary for me to put on sunglasses to drive, despite it being nearly the witching hour and almost entirely darker than the inside of a cow.
It's necessary because this blissful darkness of night is violently punctured by a startling number of cars that seem to have installed miniaturized but no less powerful lighthouse bulbs in where their headlights ought to go so the oncoming traffic and sports cars that insist on tailgating me in the slow lane alike illuminate the road and my mirrors with the kind of radiance I'd normally associate with the arrival of a Seraphim.
I arrive at the distant highly discounted airport car lot where my housemate is waiting, deeply apologetic. It's nothing. I say. Once I see that your car starts up, I'm gonna go to that 7-11 across the way that I parked in front of, get a slurpee or something and I'll see you at home.
While she is retrieving her vehicle (an equally eccentric but much more stately Subaru that is old enough to be elected to congress) I rifle through the loose change in the glove box and discover that I have exactly $6.66 in small bills and coins. The Subaru, continuing it's long voyage into vehicular immortality, immediately starts up.
Upon her return, we all remember that my friend had all her camping gear in the backseat of the car and there is no room for The Creature to ride home with her parent, so I again assure her it's nothing, and will just take The Creature into the 7-11 with me. She is trained as a service animal and needs the practice after the plague.
I wave my friend off and turn to enter the 7-11.
I promptly trip over the jutting back bumper of The Van and fall, cartoonishly, face-first onto the sidewalk.
Fortunately, I have a lot of practice falling on my face, and have learned not to throw my hands out but instead cover my face, so my unexpected self-inflicted attempted curb-stomping lightly scrapes my hairline and nothing else -my sunglasses even stay in place- and I get up and resume my quest for a slurpee.
It's well known that the airport is a lawless place, and the 7-11 across from the discounted airport parking at the stroke of midnight is no exception.
I know it's the stroke of Midnight because there's one of those Audubon society bird-call clocks that makes bird noises, and my arrival is heralded by the twittering call of a Summer Tanager. I am almost charmed enough by the unusual choice of chronological device to excuse the exorbitant Airport-adjacent mark-up of Slurpee prices. I stand at the machine for some time, trying to decide on a size for the price and guess what the fuck "Blue Lighting Blast" is supposed to taste like.
The Creature is being Very Polite but is somewhat agitated, I assume because she *just* saw her mother for the first time in three days and then she LEFT with no explanation, so The Creature is on her hind legs, staring woefully into my eyes, asking to be escorted around the 7-11. Even though that's not what she's not supposed to be doing, there's nobody else in here, so I let her hang off my arm and discuss various Slurpee Flavor options with her.
We eventually decide on an experiment in which I try a Small Blue Lightning Blast, and discover it tastes a bit like licking a nintendo cartridge but in a pleasantly satisfying way.
I go up to pay and realize something is amiss.
The Cashier is a young man staring at me with wide eyes, one had over the register and the other wrapped up in his rosary.
I look down at myself.
In my haste to reunite my friend with her spare keys and service animal, I had left the house in the following accoutrements:
Flip Flops. Not matching. It's below freezing outside. That last part is not particularly odd footwear for the weather in for Colorado, but it's an important detail for the rest of the ensemble.
Assorted scrapes, bruises, cuts and welts on my arms and legs that come with doing outdoor work and living in a house with three dogs and a fully-clawed cat that all want to be in my lap all the time. It's cold out, so vasoconstriction has pulled the blood away from my skin, a trait that served my ancestors well during the last Ice Age, but leaves me with pale skin to contrast the various wounds and I look like a corpse that fell out of the back of a pickup truck.
The black Bootyshorts with "CRYPTID" painted in bright red gothic font across my ass, that @theshitpostcalligrapher gave me for my wedding present.
A peculiar but extremely comfortable garment that straddles the line between "Lacy Camisole" and "Industrial-Strength Sports Bra" like the Ever Given straddling the Suez Canal. It is also Bright Red. with black accents.
The Jacket I had grabbed out of the closet, which is in fact, a black Velour Dinner Jacket.
The Tokyo-Ghoul inspired reusable anti-covid mask a friend made me with the set of Coyote Teeth.
My sunglasses, which are shaped like a Halloween Bat. The lenses are the wings and the body is the nose bridge. It is ALSO bright red.
A Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle that I have been audibly affectionately calling "Dear Creature" who is hanging off my arm like she's my Prom Date.
The Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle is ALSO dressed up in a black Dog Sweater that has white bones printed on it to look like its an X-ray jacket showing off her skeleton.
I look like I am taking my Very Fancy Werewolf Girlfriend to a particularly casual Dinner Party for Vampires, but the thing that's really selling it and probably alarming the kid the most is the fun accessory I acquired in the parking lot not five minutes earlier:
The "Small Scrape At my Hairline" is actually a painless but PROFUSELY bleeding head wound that I had somehow entirely failed to notice covering my face, neck, decolletage and magnificent cleavage with blood like a Tarantino Film Extra.
This does explain why The Creature has been delicately trying to use her bodyweight to push me down onto the floor for the last ten minutes. So I don't injure myself while we wait for the paramedics she hoped this kid called to arrive, you see.
The Creature has such a High and Naive Opinion of humanity.
I decide this social situation is already fucked, and the only way out is through, and with haste, before I start dripping on the floor.
"Hi there!" I say cheerfully, to indicate this is a visually alarming but not terribly serious situation. "Just a Small Slurpee!"
The Cashier has entered the relevant code into the register before I finish the sentence. His gaze flicks off me just long enough to look at the total, and he grips his Rosary harder.
$6.66
"Oh cool! I have exact change!" I say, taking the money out of my as-yet-unsanguined pocket without looking and slap it down on the counter. "You have a good night and be safe out there!" I wave, leaving.
I get in The Van, mortified, buckle The Creature up, and as I make to leave, I have to put it in reverse, which automatically turns on the backup Camera.
It also turns on the music player.
I make eye contact with the cashier as the dulcet tones of John Phillip Sousa boom from the van hard enough to make the windshield and the windows of the 7-11 rattle for the nine-and-a-half seconds I have to wait to be able to turn the volume back down. Not knowing what else to to, I give him a thumbs up, and leave.
Anyway, now I know what my Future Van Wizard has got to be dressed like, and what their familiar is.
---
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Of Oblivious Minds (3)
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Pairing: Azriel x Reader
Summary: You're positive Azriel is in love with Elain. It seems so obvious. But Cassian is laughing at you and suddenly nothing makes quite so much sense anymore.
Word count: 2.3k
Warnings: Azriel's POV (it's a warning here), angst
a/n: I am blown away by all of you and your support!! I really love writing for this fandom omg. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy ♡ Let me know what you think!! I'll get the next update up soon!
Part 1, Part 2, Part 4
~~
Azriel was losing his ever-loving mind. 
A few weeks ago, everything was fine. Not optimal, but fine. 
He knew his mate, and that was more than could be said for most of Prythian. But even more than that, he could love her from afar. He could make small remarks and catch the smiles they would elicit. He could send his shadows after her on her walks home, protecting her even though she had the entire Inner Circle looking out for her wellbeing. He could buy the ridiculously expensive pastries she loved and stock the kitchens with them, listening for the small gasps she let out each time she found them.
He could talk to you, listen to you, love you in his small ways, even if it wasn’t the ways in which he longed for. 
Because it wasn’t the right time yet. You hadn’t felt the bond for yourself. 
So, yes—admittedly, Azriel had not been in the most optimal position with you. But it was leaps and bounds better than the purgatory you were subjecting him to now. 
He mulled over his current reality as he sat opposite to you at the dining table. He had had to snag the seat from Mor, ripping the chair from her hand in an uncharacteristic show of aggression, and you hadn’t so much as looked up from your plate. He would’ve rather fought for the seats beside you, but Rhys and Cassian had been sitting before he even entered the room. So now he fought for your eyes and was too far away to offer any lingering, accidental touches. 
Not that you would reciprocate either. 
You were avoiding him, and Azriel was at his wit's end trying to decipher why. 
His shadows had relayed dismal reports, only whispering the words sad and alone and contemplative into his ears each morning. He could have guessed as much, if the display of emotions he had tried to comfort you through all those days ago told him anything. 
But Gods, did they really tell him nothing, because you hadn’t spoken to him since. 
“—that is certainly something to consider. Y/n, would you be open to the job?” 
“Hm?” you hummed, and Azriel watched as your eyes flickered over to Rhys in one abrupt movement. “Sorry, what?” 
Rhys raised a brow lined with humor, and Azriel realized he hadn’t been listening to the conversation either. “Helion has extended an invitation to the Night Court—for diplomatic relations and all. It’s mostly a weekend stay for show, but he has quite an extensive library. Feyre and I went last time so it would only be fair if—” 
“Yes,” you nodded, the most emotion Azriel had seen on your face in days blooming into a joyous array. “Of course, I would love to go. Are you kidding?” 
Rhys chuckled. “I figured. Helion has been quite eager to get you to come as well. Seemed like the perfect time.” 
Azriel didn’t miss the way the High Lord’s eyes shone with something other than mirth as he looked closer at the scholar… as he inspected your facade the same way Azriel had been for the past week. 
“When can I leave?” 
Something in Azriel scratched to a halt. “She’s to go alone?” 
Feyre offered the spymaster a soft smile from the other side of the table. “If she wishes. Helion’s invitation was open-ended.” 
“Take the vacation, I say,” Mor piped in, wine glass raised in a solitary toast. 
“Or… you could take me,” Cassian grinned beside you, jostling you in a playful grip. 
You sent a scoff his way. “Aren’t you banned?” 
“No, actually. I’m banned from Summer Court, which is completely unrelated.” 
A short laugh trickled from your lips. It wasn’t a full one, not like the ones Azriel was so used to—the ones he basked in—but it was a laugh, nonetheless.
He felt the way his eyes seemed to follow the crescendo of it, his blinks in time with the sweet sound. 
He committed it to memory. 
“Right, well let’s keep you away from neighboring courts as much as possible so we can avoid a repeat of that, okay?” 
Something like a grin fought at the side of Azriel’s mouth at your quip. 
Cassian prattled on. Something about unjust rules or ridiculous high lords—Azriel wasn’t paying attention. He was too caught up in you and the way you were so close to meeting his gaze. 
“Perhaps she shouldn’t go alone,” Azriel spoke up, interrupting his brother’s spiel. You still didn’t look at him, instead turning to catch Rhys’s response. 
“Azriel, I can assure you this is a safe visit,” Rhys offered. He knew. Everyone seemed to know but you. “It’s hardly even business. It’s more of a vacation. I’ve been shoving century-old relics in her face for the past few months. She deserves time to herself, don’t you think?” 
His High Lord was speaking in code. A terrible, frustrating code that really meant, “give her some distance.” 
Azriel had had enough of distance. 
He nodded his head all the same. 
And then, despite all odds, you looked at him. 
You looked at him and it was as if the air had been knocked from his lungs. As if he had been wrung out and stretched thin and every bone in his body forced him to sit up straighter. You were looking at him and Azriel couldn’t conceptualize the way the spectrum in his chest moved so quickly from utter relief to the brink of desolation. 
Because you looked at him as if you were broken. A sad—such a sad—smile graced your face, one he had never had the displeasure of seeing before, and he wanted to wipe it away. He wanted to kiss it from your face with soft touches and reassuring whispers and that was startling for Azriel because he usually kept his overwhelming urge to kiss you at bay. 
“I’ll bring you back a souvenir,” is all you said. Such simple words to accompany an expression that sent him reeling. 
“Thank you,” he replied, with the most sincerity he could muster. 
And then he held your gaze as it became downcast. He craned his neck to catch every last second of your eyes as they turned back down to the table.
It was hours later that Azriel found himself in the townhouse, boots creating an indent in the office carpet. Rhys sat just feet away from him, leaning back against the desk, waiting for the Shadowsinger to erupt. 
“I would like for you to position your spies further into Autumn. I know you have a few that have integrated into the court, but I need more intel on Eris and his plans.” 
“Of course.” 
“You can take out any currently residing in Day. Just for the next week or so. With y/n going, she can report any happenings.” 
A muscle in Azriel’s jaw jumped. “Would that be wise?” 
Rhys stared back at his brother, expression giving nothing away. “Why wouldn’t it be? Do you not trust y/n’s word?” 
Azriel’s wings were taut against his back. In truth, he hadn’t felt relaxed in days. With you leaving, that tension would surely pull him into thin compliance. 
“Obviously I trust her word, Rhysand.” 
“Rhysand? What have I done to earn your grievance?” the High Lord asked, crossing his arms over his chest, still the perfect picture of calm. 
Azriel was a juxtaposition before him as he clenched his hands and replied, “You already know.” 
“Do I know? I’m not sure you’ve been clear or honest with anyone. Y/n especially.” 
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 
Rhys bent at the elbow and rubbed a restless hand across his jaw. Azriel ignored the movement in favor of holding eye contact with the High Lord. Azriel was being stubborn, he knew that, but there was no other way to be. 
He needed to be consistent and reliable. He needed to be a pillar for his family to lean on, and you were part of that. He wasn’t going to take that away from you—to be selfish and call upon a mating bond you hadn't even been made aware of yet. 
He wasn’t going to squander your friendship in the hopes of something more. 
There was a chance, no matter how much the prospect pained him to consider, that you wouldn’t want the bond. You had never hinted at wanting more with the spymaster, so there was no telling how you might react to the cauldron blessing you with a union. You could reject it, and with it would go your friendship. 
Just the thought sent ice through Azriel’s veins. 
Truth be told, he had never shown you many signs either. When the bond snapped months ago, it had taken time for Azriel to come to terms with the truth. He had ruminated on it amidst many sleepless nights, watched you from a new perspective over many dinners, and contemplated the path that had led him to you. 
And then he had regretted. Cauldron had he regretted. 
The feeling still lingered, a reminder of each woman he had taken to his bed before you. All of the fae that had meant nothing, and even the ones that had boarded on something, he wished he could do away with.
Because you had been privy to them all. He knew you had witnessed a few late-night trysts, and even worse, that you had watched him pine after Mor for a century. It all seemed so frivolous now; it all paled in comparison to you. 
And the absolute worst part of it all is that he knew. 
He knew how easy it would be to fall in love with you from the start, so he pretended not to notice. 
He threw himself into impractical longing and meaningless lovers and he pretended that it didn’t hurt to look at you. 
The bond had only cemented his foolishness. 
He hardly had a chance with you by the time it snapped. 
“Late night then, Az?” 
You had teased him over breakfast just days before the bond had snapped for him, a small smile on your face as you lounged at the table early in the morning. At the time, Azriel had bit the inside of his cheek and reeled in his snarkiness. He had avoided your gaze, avoided the robe that barely covered your nightgown, and made himself toast in silence. He had already coaxed the blonde fae out of his bed, and he hadn’t needed a reminder of the woman he had been imagining all throughout the night. 
Because that had been something else he opted to ignore—that he pictured you, imagined you, at all times. 
It snapped three days later. He had been accompanying you through Velaris. “Shopping for fun,” you had said, “and I hate to go alone.”
The only thing Azriel had taken home that day was a gaping hole in his chest and the knowledge that lying to himself had brought him nothing but pain. 
The months following were different. 
Everything was different. 
But for you, he had come to the grim realization, nothing was different at all. He was still Azriel, your friend Azriel, who was secretive and private and cared from afar. You still pictured him as a man who chose his lovers based on convenience and quick practicality even though he hadn’t so much as looked at another woman since your emotions began flowing through his chest. 
Gods, your emotions. They were so positive, so addicting, he could sit back and live his days through you until the end of time. You had so much unrestricted joy coursing through you—so much curiosity and delight. Part of Azriel dreaded the day you did recognize the bond; it would dim the connection to you.
That day in the library had been the first time the bond had chafed against his lungs. He had felt the earthquake beneath his feet and thought nothing of it, but then your fear punctured his being and he had run so fast his wings ached. 
And then you started having nightmares, ones he couldn’t fix, and Azriel began to feel like he was losing you. Like the bond was withering and eroding within him and you along with it. 
“How long, Azriel?” Rhys’s voice cut through the air with a harshness. 
The shadowsinger breathed through his nose, jaw tight. 
“Tell me. Tell me how long you’re going to keep this up for.” 
“You don’t understand, Rhys,” came Azriel’s low reply. “None of you do.” 
The High Lord scoffed. “Right, because I had it so easy with Feyre. Az, mates are complicated—” 
“Don’t,” Azriel breathed. A dangerous shakiness accompanied the word.
“Explain it to me. Help me to understand how—” 
“There was nothing for you to lose!” The rise of the shadowsinger’s voice sent Rhys into silence. “There was nothing! You hadn’t known Feyre for three centuries—hadn’t known what it was like to see her cry over worthless males or laugh until she was doubled over. You didn’t have time to memorize the sound of her voice or understand how it felt to lose that small piece of her. Because she won’t even talk to me anymore and—” 
Azriel cut himself off, moving for the first time since he entered office. He paced, the motion of his feet doing little to dispel the tension from the air or from his body. Azriel tugged a hand through his hair, his shadows following the aggressive pull and weaving through the strands. 
“How long?” Rhys asked again, but this time, Azriel knew that he was asking a different question. One that even he himself had avoided answering. 
The shadowsinger paused. His next words were tainted and his voice cracked. 
“I think forever.”
Part 4
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peachsayshi · 23 days
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✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ blessings ⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
↬ summary: nanami kento tries to be the perfect husband and father but when a tough night fighting curses ends badly it results in nanami snapping at his daughter. 
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ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ minors / ageless / blank blogs (dni) ↬・tags: nanami x female reader; hurt/comfort; nanami has a daughter; domestic drama; being a jujutsu sorcerer is hard; momotarō is a famous Japanese folk tale :c ↬・ wc: 3,383
↬ notes: hi, everyone! I'm currently not really active at the moment so please don't feel disheartened if I haven't been responding to your messages or tagged posts. I'm taking a small break and only coming online for a bit to catch up on some messages, read fics or queue posts. I'll be back to properly posting and interacting soon but in the meantime I wanted to share that I finished up this draft over the weekend. I was actually debating if I should post this but then just decided to go for it! sending all my love xx
nanami’s head is heavy, completely clouded with despair, and it tints his brown eyes a shade of murky gray. the walls of his beautiful home feel narrow, almost claustrophobic, which explains why he’s struggling to catch his breath right now. stepping into the hallway, he instinctively peeks into the dining area to find you and his daughter eating dinner together. she’s sitting on the chair, her legs far too short to even touch the ground, holding a half eaten onigiri between her small hands. you are by her side, sneakily tidying up after her as you brush away the stray beads of rice trickling onto the table. 
a little glow blooms in nanami’s heart at the sight of you both but there is a vicious creature residing in the pit of his stomach that veils the bright light away. 
he quietly takes off his jacket, his bruised fingers loosening the tie around his neck. he clears his throat before announcing with exhaustion to you both that he’s finally home. 
your eyes meet his, the muscles on your face falling immediately. he can practically feel the blood rushing through your veins as worry washes over you. the reaction makes his chest uncomfortably tight, but he knows that he can’t hide his expressions around you like he used to. 
you both move together so fluidly now, like a single body of water that ebbs and flows to its own natural current. 
he escaped the night’s fight with a few cuts and a couple of bad bruises, but there is currently a student on shoko’s table who barely made it through. the young man arrived at jujutsu tech only a couple of weeks ago, but his naive and charismatic qualities turned into fatal flaws in the world of sorcery.
he bit off more than he could chew by trying to take on a special grade curse.  
shoko promised nanami that she would heal the boy, but admitted there was only so much she can do in regards to the aftermath of his injuries. the sorcerer couldn’t bare to leave him behind, but gojo refused that he stay and insisted that he return back home to his pretty wife and adorable daughter immediately. 
“I’ll handle things from here,” is what his superior said, while nanami’s guilt climbed up his throat. 
that student was his responsibility... 
...and he failed him entirely. 
“papa’s home!” his daughter chirps. the pitch of her voice ringing in nanami’s ears to pull him back to the present and far away from the scene where life and death were dancing together in a tango.  “papa, look, look...mama and I made onigiri!” 
her feet bounces up and down, and there’s a touch of a pink against her cheeks when her mouth stretches into a beaming grin. the innocence in her eyes makes nanami falter and he can feel himself falling deeper into the abyss. for a minute he resents himself for selfishly bringing such a beautiful thing into this world, only to gamble with the fact that she may potentially be in his shoes one day. 
he begs for that outcome to never happen, beseeches whatever higher power above him that exists to spare her from this life. she should never have to go through this, never have to experience these heartbreaks that only wither a person down. 
“I can see that,” nanami replies in a low voice before shifting his attention to his feet. 
right now, he can’t stomach an ounce of her purity, and it radiates around her like a halo. she's so unbothered by his presence, so completely unaware of the sudden change in the atmosphere around her... 
“we made tuna, salmon, and veggies...” she babbles on. 
“how nice...” nanami curtly interrupts, before anxiously running his fingers through the strands of his messy blonde hair. 
“which one do you want, papa?” she questions eagerly, pointing her sticky hands at the plate to show off the selection of triangles. 
“sweets,” you interject just as nanami turns on his heel to walk in the other direction, “how about we finish up eating our dinner, and we can save some for your daddy tomorrow...”
“nooo!” she whines far too loudly, which forces nanami to stop dead in his tracks. he glances over his shoulder to see her puffing out her bottom lip with disappointment, “you said...you said we make it so we eat together!” 
she’s only six. 
she can’t perceive that her father is struggling to hold himself together. deep down inside nanami knows that, but it isn’t enough to keep his cool. he doesn’t know why his daughter’s insistence causes him to pinch the front of his brows with annoyance or why he shoots a frustrated look in her direction. 
he doesn’t know why he’s suddenly picturing shoko calling the student’s parents to deliver the news that the man who was supposed to protect their child was unsuccessful in his duty. 
he doesn’t know why he feels at fault for everything that happened, even though the circumstances of the events were completely out of his control.  
he doesn’t know why he’s imagining himself on the receiving end of a very similar call, or why he can’t stop picturing his precious daughter on that table instead…
all of this pummels into him, and the monster emerges out from it’s cave.  
“be quiet and stop making such a fuss.” 
his voice comes out sharper than expected, and the expulsion of his frustration allows him to see the crystal clear picture before him. 
the room is dead silent. 
your face is in full shock at the hissing tone of your sweet husband snapping at his darling baby girl who he only ever speaks to with a gentle voice. 
what truly unravels nanami is the look that his daughter is giving him - her angelic features are sullen, but her eyes remain wide with surprise. her bottom lip is slack, and the only sound he can hear is her uneasy breathing. her eyes, the most beautiful gems in existence, twinkle as tears begin to form and she tries to quickly blink them away before turning her attention back to her plate.  
nanami doesn’t know he managed to stop time itself but the three of you remain frozen in place. 
he regrets his words immediately. 
he wants nothing more than to pull his precious girl close into his chest and smother her with apologies. the part of him with sense tells him to follow through and make things right with her, but instead he begrudgingly continues to wallow in his own self pity as he walks over to his room. 
・゚ ・゚·:。・゚゚・・゚ ・゚·:。・゚゚・
the house is unusually quiet now, the music of domestic joy morphing into hushed murmurs and whispers outside your room door. you settle your crestfallen daughter into her bedroom before moving to check on your husband next. 
fresh out of the shower, nanami is seated on the edge of the bed with his exhausted eyes pressed firmly into the palms of his hands. he exhales a heavy breath, his dirty work clothes still piled just outside the bathroom, and your heart nearly collapses seeing him in such a state of disarray.
you kneel before him, two hands sliding across the soft material of his sweats as you brush them along his thighs before carefully bringing them up to circle around his wrists. 
“kento?” 
he allows you to pull his palms away but your throat constricts when a band forms tightly around your neck. you swallow the lump with an upturn of your brows as you are greeted with red, exhausted eyes. you cup that handsome face in your hands, your thumbs sweetly motioning back and forth across his cheeks as you try to soothe the tension away. 
after all this time together, it hurts you to see that he still tries to hide his tears. nanami constantly holds himself to the highest standard, always ensuring that he can solidify himself as the rock for you and your daughter to depend on through thick and thin. it’s so rare for you to see him crack, to watch him crumble under the overbearing weight of the things that he is burdened to carry. 
“you had a rough night,” you point out in a low, sympathetic voice and he simply just nods his head in acknowledgement. 
his eyes flutter close again when you lean forward to press a tender, reassuring kiss on his brow. “you want a talk about it?” 
the way his voice shakes makes you shiver, but you tentatively listen as he relays the events of the night before finally concluding that satoru called him only a few minutes ago to reassure him that the student in question is alright. 
“he lost an eye, but at least he’s alive...” he concludes somberly, the warble in his final statement prompting you to wrap your arms around his neck as you pull him in for a protective hug. 
nanami receives it with gratitude, strong arms circling around your waist as he buries his nose into the crook of your shoulder and breathes in.
your scent is a reminder of his permanent sanctuary.
a safety, a reassurance of home.
you stroke his blonde locks between your fingers until he exhales, "i'm so sorry," he breathes, "I...I didn't mean to snap like that..."
a tiny smile tugs at the corners of your lips, and you unravel yourself to cup his jaw into your palms once again. "I appreciate the apology, but I don't think I should be on the receiving end of it..." you hint sweetly.
nanami closes his eyes guiltily. "I'm a horrible father."
you click your tongue with disappointment, your face falling as your disapproval pinches between the space of your brows.
"you're just human," you remind him defensively, "you're a wonderful father, the best man that our daughter can look up to"
"did you see the look on her face?" he replies, his voice unnaturally small. the tender expression he gives you is filled with regret, and it's enough to make your heart ache all over again.
"kento," you contend, "don't do this to yourself. we're both going to have days where we mess up, but that doesn't mean that the problem can't be fixed."
you thread his hair between your fingers, like your brushing through rays sunlight. "she's waiting for me to read her a bedtime story," you explain, "but I'm sure she would rather be with you instead..."
"I doubt that," your husband replies as he reaches for your hand to kiss the inside of your palm.
"we will always love you, kento," you answer back, "unconditionally. on your good days and your bad ones"
he didn't even know how desperately he needed to hear that, for your certainty to remedy away all his sorrows, until they actually left your lips.
your husband's throat tightens, tears pricking his eyes once more but he hides them away when he leans in to seek out a kiss from the woman whose heart he deeply adores.
・゚ ・゚·:。・゚゚・・゚ ・゚·:。・゚゚・
nanami leans his shoulder against the frame of his daughter's room. his heart patters lightly, making him realize that he might actually be nervous. it's strange, he thinks, that he would feel hesitant to approach his own child considering that he was her guardian but nanami had never allowed his professional life to fracture into his personal one like this before.
she's seated on the floor next to a pile of books and her stuffed rabbit secured tightly underneath her arm. there's a warmth in his chest when when he makes note of the soft toy, because he purchased that himself the day she was born and the pair have been inseparable ever since.
he clears his throat, bringing his scuffed knuckles to gently knock on the door.
"my love?" he calls out to her.
his daughter perks up, her breathing changing slightly as it rises and falls with a hint of apprehension. she glances over her shoulder to see him.
"where's mama?" she asks, her question shattering the man into a million pieces at her subtle dismissal.
"taking a shower," he answers cooly, "but I'm here to get you ready for bed..."
her lovely eyes refuse to lock into his own, and she simply tucks her lip between her bottom teeth to avoid giving nanami a reply.
she looks so much like him when he was a child. he remembered when his parents used to scold him too, and how he would also hide away in his room. the only difference is that nanami's parents were far more traditional - a time where elders were never submissive to young hearts.
"may I come in?" he requests politely, ensuring that his daughter knew she had a choice if she wanted to speak to him.
her nostrils flare slightly while she considers him, but to his relief she nods her head eagerly.
nanami steps into her room, always feeling largely out of place amongst her things. "did you find a story for bed?" he asks.
she again quietly nods her head and picks up her favorite book; a compilation of japanese folktales with beautiful illustrations. you both have been reading one for her each night ever since she got it it as a present from her grandparents.
he crouches on his knees to meet her at eye level. "you've really been enjoying this one, haven't you?" he carries on, hoping to coax more words out of her.
“yeah,” she replies in the same mousy voice of uncertainty. she shifts her attention away when she stands on her feet, clutching onto the stuffed bunny tightly while her other hand swings the book by her side.
“and what tale are we reading tonight?”
she shrugs her shoulders with indifference, a hint of pink blushing her cheek. “I dunno. I…I can just until mama is ready…”
nanami visibly slumps. her rejection an entirely new painful experience that he's never endured before. he scratches the back of his head anxiously, finding himself at a loss for words. the seconds pass, an awkward bubble surrounding both father and daughter. it’s only broken when nanami exhales a sigh, and reaches his hands towards her waist to draw her into his frame.
“darling,” he addresses tenderly, “can you look at me?”
“no, you were mean…” she blurts out, her bottom lip trembling slightly.
nanami’s heart sinks.
that’s the first time he’s ever heard those words from her lips.
“I know,” he murmurs shamefully.
her mouth forms into a tiny button of a pout but she meets his eyes for the first time as he acknowledges his behavior.
nanami arches forward to kiss her forehead, “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that, sweetheart. I’m so sorry if I upset or scared you”
she fidgets with the book in her hand. “did you not want onigiri?” she asks, her innocence tugging the corners of her father’s lips into a small grin.
“it wasn’t the onigiri, my love,” he reassures, “daddy just…had a bad day at work…”
“why was it bad?”
nanami sighs once again.
she still doesn’t know that he’s a sorcerer. you’ve both reduced his position to her by simply explaining that nanami “helps and protects people".
thankfully your daughter doesn’t pry too hard to ask any further questions.
“someone I know got hurt. so, daddy was a little shaken up when he came home…”
"shaken up?"
"scared, my love"
his daughter shakes her head in disbelief, “nu-uh, you never get scared, papa” she rebuts.
nanami huffs out a laugh, flashing her a full grin now as he brings his fingers to his chin to to ponder her sweet statement. he quirks his brow and cheekily replies, "we can't all be brave like you," in an attempt to lighten the mood.
his daughter narrows her eyes towards his hand, her mind instantly distracted with other things already. "you got hurt too papa!" she gasps, dropping the bunny by her side to point at his knuckles.
nanami glances at his fingers covered in red marks.
"wait!" she exclaims as she places the book by his side. "I have something!"
she spins on her heel and rushes towards one of her drawers. meanwhile, nanami just takes her in with his love soaked eyes, watching as she rummages through her stuff with determination until she scurries back his way.
"got it!" she squeaks with a smile, and to his surprise she jumps right into his arms with such nonchalance it nearly make him crumble on the spot.
your voice echoes in the back of his mind: "we will always love you, kento. unconditionally. on your good days and your bad ones"
"mama bought it for me," she explains, regaining her father's attention once more.
nanami rests his cheek on her shoulder, and inhales her powdery scent as he keeps one arm warmly secured around her waist. he watches her peel off the plaster of the band aid, lbefore grabbing his hand and placing it unevenly over his knuckles.
"now a kiss!" she adds, as she brings his hand to her mouth and exaggerates a loud "mwah" sound for emphasis. "mama says the kiss is what makes it all better"
nanami instantly feels significantly better from this remedy of love. he extends his digits out, and looks at the hot pink "hello kitty" band aid that now rests comfortably on his knuckles.
"thank you, my darling," he coos and peppers her cheek with a few kisses before turning her to face him once again. "you made me feel a lot better"
she flashes him an equally large smile in return, showing off her missing teeth.
"I did?"
nanami chuckles as he scoops her up in his arms to give her a well deserved bear hug. she laughs as he stands on his two feet, and sheds away any lingering thoughts of apprehension that may have stuck.
"you always do," he reassures, his soul vibrating back to life when he feels her return his embrace. “you think you can forgive me for how I spoke earlier?”
“yeah,” she confirms and squeezes him just a little tighter. "I love you lots, papa"
"oh, my angel," he hums, "you have no idea just how much I love you too..."
・゚ ・゚·:。・゚゚・・゚ ・゚·:。・゚゚・
after winding down from your evening pampering session, you decide to pass by your daughter's room to check on your little family. you peer through the cracked door to find nanami spread out on your daughter’s bed, with your daughter curled into side and her head resting on his chest.
“did I come from a peach too like momotarō?” you hear her ask, but your heart flutters at the sight of your husband’s pearly whites.
you’ll never get over how much you love seeing him smile with such genuine emotion.
“no,” you hear nanami reply calmly, his finger lightly holding the page open. “you remember your mother explaining how you used to live in her stomach first?”
“oh yeah,” your daughter replies with a hint of disappointment over the fact that she was not birthed from a piece of fruit as mentioned in one of her favorite folk tales.
“shall I carry on?”
“uh-huh,” she answers and she readjusts her position to get even more comfortable. "I think if we look hard enough we might find momotarō..."
"you think so?" your husband wonders with honest curiosity.
"I know so, papa!"
"how many peaches do you think we need to check?"
"hmmm," she mumbles, "maybe a million?"
"a million?" your husband dramatically replies, "that's a lot of peaches don't you think,"
"I mean, it's less than a billion..." she responds quite matter of factly.
you catch his gaze from between the door that’s ajar. his expression fully relaxes, and you smile knowingly in his direction at the sight of father and daughter making up.
“papa?” his daughter questions upon his sudden silence, but your husband keeps his focus on you as he hums in acknowledgement before replying, "you're not wrong, but it'll still be quite a challenge to cut through a million peaches..."
"we might need some help," your daughter adds on.
you blow him a secret kiss as to not interrupt further, and quietly close the door before heading back to your bedroom.
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suugarbabe · 7 months
Text
Unexpected | m.r x reader
prompt: Hii! How are you? This is my first time sending an ask and I just wanted to say that I love your writings! May I ask for a enemies to lovers with Mattheo Riddle? The reader is from the golden trio and they get into an argument with a lot of chemistry and tension. Thank you and I'm sorry for my bad english.
maybe enemies to lovers, like they hate each other and then realize that they are soulmates and then have to figure out what to do. some angst but ends i fluff please 
word count: ~3.8k
warnings: slight angst feeling, fluff, e2l, soulmate trope, some heavy petting
an: so there's no argument like the prompt asks (sorry) but when I started writing it just kind of flowed out this way so hopefully it's still okay.
“Go on, show us again,” Ron Weasley was shaking a turkey leg in your general direction, asking to see the words that appeared on your arm this morning. In the wizarding world, on the day you were going to properly meet your soulmate, the first sentence they speak to you, excluding their name, will appear on your forearm in their handwriting. 
It was incredibly annoying to you that Ron and Hermione got this mess out of the way the first day on the bloody train. To your and Harry’s amusement, neither were originally excited about the match, but after the chaos that ensued for the four of you by the end of that year they were inseparable. Nothing brings two people closer than tragedy. 
Things got even more frustrating for you when Harry and Ginny realized they were soulmates, leaving you the lone wolf in your foursome. Entering your sixth year this year you were hopeful that maybe you would finally be able to find out who your soulmate was, roughly three fourths of those leave Hogwarts knowing who they’re intended to be with, and you would rather Avada Kadavera yourself then leave your seventh year soulmateless. 
You grabbed the sleeve of your jumper, tugging it up to your elbow, sticking your arm out in the middle of the table for your three friends to view. There on your arm read a singular sentence, do I intimidate you, love?
Hermione sat back on the bench, “His handwriting really is awful, whoever he is.” You scoffed at your friend, “Not exactly my biggest concern, Mione. More worried about why he thinks he would intimidate me? Who would even think that? By this point in our school life you’d think any of us were more intimidating than the majority of the student body.” 
“Yeah, except Slytherin,” Harry snorted, Ron following with his own round of laughter. But you weren’t laughing, you were looking at Hermione who was sporting the same grimace and worried eyes that you were sure your face looked like. 
Harry and Ron looked at each other, then looked at the two of you. “It was a joke, y/n/n,” Harry tried to ease the tension that was building. “Yeah, I mean, y’don't really think your soulmate might be…one of them,” Ron was anything but subtle with his tone of disgust, as well as his entire body turning around to face the Slytherin table. 
Ron’s actions didn’t go unnoticed by a particular group of Slytherin boys. “Staring problem, Weasley? Got a crush?” Malfoy shouted across the dining hall, earning laughs and teasing hollars from his friends. 
“Oi, Malfoy, got a present for you,” you stuck your hand in your school bag, pretending to roam around before pulling your hand back out and lifting it high in the air, giving Malfoy the middle finger. His face immediately turned into a scowl. The boy next to him, however, pretended to catch your gesture in the air and put it in his pocket, winking at you in the process. 
You rolled your eyes, turning to Hermione who had a look of disgust on her face, “Riddle’s ego really is massive innit.” All three of your friends' heads began to nod. “I swear if he didn’t verbalize how much he bloody hated us I would think he was flirting with you y/n/n.” 
“Shut it, Weasley, don’t you put that on me,” you pointed your finger at him, tone joking but words serious. He put his hands up in defense, laughing along with the rest of your friends as you all gathered your things and headed towards your first class. 
Unbeknownst to you, a similar conversation was being had at the Slytherin table. “Glad to see meeting your soulmate hasn’t deterred you from trying to flirt with anything that breathes,” Pansy took a sip of her pumpkin juice, teasing the curly haired boy across from her. 
“Dunno what you mean, Pans,” the dimples on Mattheo’s cheeks popping out as he smirked. 
“Show us your arm again, cousin,” Draco’s words causing everyone to look at Mattheo now. The younger boy scowled, rolling up the sleeve of his dress shirt. There on his arm, in beautiful loopy script were the words you’ve got to be fucking joking.
Theo couldn’t help but laugh, “Don’t know if I’ve ever seen such a foul word in such pretty handwriting.” 
Mattheo rolled his eyes, pulling his sleeve back down, “Yeah, well let’s just hope the bird is someone I can tolerate.” 
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You let out a long groan, hands rubbing up and down your face as you leaned your elbows on your knees . Hermione was sat next to you in the common room, rubbing up and down your back, “The day’s not over quite yet, y/n/n. It wouldn’t appear if you weren’t gonna meet them today.” 
“Yeah,” Ron put on his best attempt at an encouraging smile, “maybe they’re another Gryffindor and you’ll meet them before we go to bed.” Harry nodded next to him in agreement. 
You stood up, grabbing your jumper off the arm of the couch and throwing it on, “M’gonna go for a walk.” 
Hermione’s lips downturned, “It’s nearly curfew.” You sighed, looking over at Harry. “I’ll go get my cloak,” he sighed, standing and walking quickly to his dorm room. 
After Harry’s return you thanked him, spending an extra twenty minutes convincing Hermione that you would be the utmost cautious and affirmed to Ron that you would stash the cloak if you were to be caught. 
Now you were quietly climbing the stairs to the astronomy tower. When you got to the top, you did a quick look over the railing. With no sign of Filch anywhere you dropped the cloak, laying it on the floor so you didn’t have to sit on the bare ground. 
As you got comfortable you dug in your shirt, pulling out a spliff. Hermione would murder you if she found out you smoked, however the year you all had to study for your O.W.L’s, you were so stressed you ended up buying from Theo Nott.
He promised to keep it to himself and you promised it was a one time thing, but you found yourself buying from him every couple months. You weren't sure if she would be more disappointed in your smoking, or you interacting with someone in the forbidden Slytherin group.
You mumbled a short incendio before taking a long drag. You blew the smoke out slowly, watching it ripple through the air and up into the night sky. You looked up at the stars, knowing the day was likely to be over soon and wondering if you were the only witch that was destined to not run into their soulmate like everyone else. 
You were lost in your thoughts and self pity. So much so you didn’t even hear someone come up the tower steps until they hit the top. You scrambled to your feet, ready to cover yourself with the cloak when you realized it wasn’t Filch, but a boy instead. 
The dark of the night made it difficult for you to see exactly who it was at first, that and the fact that every time he took a step forward you seemed to take a step back until your back was against the stone wall. When he finally stepped into the light, your breath caught in your throat. Standing in front of you, signature smirk adoring his face was Mattheo Riddle. 
You stayed rigid against the wall as he got closer to you. His fingers brushed yours as he took the spliff, bringing it up to his lips and inhaling. His eyes never left yours as he turned his head slightly, blowing the smoke into the night. His eyes traveled over you, taking in your black sleep shorts and house jumper. When he looked at your face again he locked eyes with you, almost like he was trying to read what was going on in your brain. 
“Do I intimidate you, love?” The words seemed to leave his lips without a second thought and you felt like your chest was going to cave in. There was just no way, absolutely bloody not that he said those words, the words you had been anticipating someone to say all day. Him of all people that could’ve spoken them. 
He raised his eyebrows at you, clearly looking for you to answer. Instead of some sputtering response of nervousness like Mattheo was expecting, your face just dropped. 
“You’ve got to be fucking joking.” Mattheo’s face went white after you responded, and that was all the evidence you needed to confirm that Mattheo fucking Riddle was your soulmate. He hated you. You hated him. How could two people that despise each other be destined to be soulmates?
"What are you even doing up here?" You crossed your arms over your chest, sitting into your hip. His smirk only seemed to grow, "I think the better question is what are you doing up here, partaking in drugs no less? Little miss golden girl."
You rolled your eyes, "What's that supposed to mean, Riddle?" Mattheo's jaw clenched, "It's Mattheo. And you know what it means. Wonder what everyone would think if they knew little miss perfect liked to come up to the astronomy tower to get high."
"Why would anyone believe you over me?" You were acting a little cocky now, but Mattheo was right in the aspect that you and your friends were seen in an overall more positive light than he and his.
However the look on Mattheo's face made you think he knew something you didn't, "I guess I could just have your dealer tell everyone, or are you buying from someone besides Nott these days?"
He was irritating you on purpose now. You grabbed the spliff back from Mattheo, going to sit where you were before but now leaning your forehead against the railing, “This is got to be some kind of mistake.” 
Mattheo could only snicker as he went to sit next to you, hanging his arms over the raining as he looked over the grounds, “S’destiny love, no mistake about it.” 
“Thanks so much, you’re being really encouraging about this whole thing,” you rolled your eyes, holding your hand out to him. He took it from you, filling his lungs with smoke again, passing it back and forth throughout the conversation. 
Mattheo shrugged his shoulders, “At least we’re both fit.” You snorted at this, “Who said I thought you were fit?” He scoffed, “Please, I’ve seen the way you ogle me.” You found yourself laughing, a true full belly head thrown back laugh before you looked at him and he thought the smile you were wearing was actually kind of cute, “How would you know that unless you were ogling me, hmm?”
Mattheo opened his mouth to respond, but found he couldn’t come up with a good enough excuse before you were speaking again. The sigh you let out let him know how stressed you really were, “Our friends are not going to like this.” 
He nodded, smoke billowing out of his mouth as he spoke, “Merlin, no. They’re going to bloody hate it. But s’not like it was really our choice.” You knew he was right, and you knew he was trying to be comforting, but the tone in his voice let you know that he was just as worried to let his group of friends know as much as you were. 
You opened your mouth to respond to him when you heard the all too familiar jingle of Mrs. Norris’ collar sounding like she was ascending the stairs. Your eyes grew wide as you and Mattheo both jumped to your feet. It looked like Mattheo is contemplating jumping over the tower railing when you grab his arm to push him flat against the stone wall. 
He looked at you with utter confusion as you grabbed the cloak before turning around and pushing your back flush against his chest. “What are you-”
“Shut it,” you cut him off, indicating to him to wrap his arms around your waist as you threw the cloak over the pair of you. As the cat walked on to the tower landing you felt Mattheo’s arms tighten around you, doing his best to pull you impossibly closer. 
He was decently taller than you, having to duck down slightly so the cloak covered you both properly. His face was tucked in close to your neck. His breath warm and tickling your skin as Filch followed after his beloved pet, glancing around for anything out of place. 
When he was satisfied, Filch turned around to leave, letting his cat lead the way. You waited a few beats, making sure they were nearly to the bottom of the staircase before pulling the cloak off the two of you and pushing Mattheo’s hands off of your body. 
“Thing comes in handy, that,” he pointed to the cloth in your hand. You chucked, “Yeah, m’sure your lot would get a lot less detentions if you had one.” Mattheo rolled his eyes, “Yeah, we can’t all be like the golden quartet.” 
You scoffed slightly at this as you headed down the stairs, Mattheo close behind you, “We didn’t give ourselves that nickname, you know.” He couldn’t help but laugh, “Yeah but m’sure you all don’t mind it. Definitely gets you some favoritism.” 
You stopped at the end of the corridor, Mattheo running into your back at the action and cursing. You turned to face him, “You know, my friends and I have endured a hell of a lot of shite over the last couple years, maybe we deserve a little break when we’re actually able to do normal bloody teenage things.” 
As much as you were trying to be harsh with him, be the slightest bit intimidating, his height gave him all the advantage. Mattheo knew what you meant, what you were saying without saying the words themselves. “I’m not like him. Don’t clump me in your same category of hatred. He’s done things to me too,” his eyes reflected a bit of hurt as he spoke and you knew he was telling the truth. 
Everyone in school assumed Mattheo was just like his father, held the same ideals and wanted the same things for the wizarding world. The look you were seeing on his face told you otherwise. Your frustration quickly fizzled, instead turning into something closer to pity, “M’sorry.” 
“Don’t be,” he deadpanned, “Let’s just get back to our common rooms.” You walked together in silence until you had no choice but to split off. You agreed to meet each other in the courtyard during lunch the next day and you were racking your brain on how you were going to break this news to Harry, Hermione and Ron.
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To say you were nervous was an understatement. When you broke the news to your friends about who your soulmate ended up being it wasn’t exactly well received. Hermione was worried, but understanding of the fact that you had no choice in the matter. Harry was upset, but again was trying his best to be mature and said he wouldn’t interfere with you spending some time with Mattheo to get to know him better. Ron took it the worst, which you wished surprised you but he did have a flair for the dramatics.
You were first waiting for Mattheo on a bench in the courtyard, but you couldn’t stop your legs from bouncing, therefore you found a place beneath a tree, attempting to read the same three lines of a book Hermione had loaned you the other day. 
When Mattheo found you and finally sat down next to you, you shut your book immediately, letting out a sigh of relief, “Oh thank Godric, you’re here.” It didn’t go unnoticed by you the way a pair of dimples christened his cheeks, “Miss me already, pretty girl? S’barely been twelve hours.” 
You shoved his shoulder lightly, trying to resist the pink that tinted your cheeks at the nickname he used, “Not at all, I’ve been sitting here for the better part of twenty minutes, mind you. Thought maybe you decided to ditch me.” Mattheo shrugged, “M’always late. You’re gonna have to get used to that. And I would never ditch you, we’re soulmates, love. You’re stuck with me for life.” 
He had a childlike grin on his face when he said that latter part and you couldn’t help the slight notion of butterflies that seemed to flutter in your stomach or the smile that appeared on your face.
All last night you thought it was going to be difficult to fall for Mattheo, but maybe the universe knew something when it paired you two together. 
“So how did your friends take the news?” You tried to keep voice neutral, but you really were worried about their responses. Mattheo leaned back against the tree, “They were shocked for sure, Draco took it the hardest. He was more worried about having to spend more time with Potter than me being with you though. Told him that would probably be more rare than he anticipated. W’bout yours?”
You nodded, “Not as bad as I thought, actually. Mione was understanding, as always. Harry was actually pretty good about it, but very skeptical. Ron actually took it the worst, but he’s just protective. Basically like me brother.” 
“How d’ya mean?” 
You leaned back against the tree yourself, shoulder to shoulder now with Mattheo. You could feel the heat radiating off of him and you wondered if his skin was always warm to the touch, “Both my parents are aurors so they travel a lot. They didn’t think it was safe for me to go with them, so Ron’s mum offered for me to stay at theirs whenever it was needed. Turns out it was needed more times than not growing up.” 
Mattheo nodded, listening intently as you spoke. You both started asking surface questions about each other; favorite color (he said black), favorite hobby (quidditch), favorite class (free period). 
When both your friend groups came looking for you after lunch period Mattheo asked if you would go to Hogsmead with him over the weekend. You agreed, finding yourself wanting to get to know more about him. Over the next two months you went to Hogsmead with Mattheo at least one day during each weekend. 
You slowly learned that his favorite candy was fizzing whizbees, having to stop at Honeydukes every trip for him to grab some. You learned that he was actually very intelligent even though he tried to seem like he wasn't, as he was passing all of his classes even though he skipped half of them. You learned that even though Draco was older than him, he felt like an older brother to his cousin. And maybe your favorite thing that you learned, purely on accident, was that if you squeeze just above his hip that he was incredibly ticklish. 
Throughout all of this you still hadn’t kissed. You kept telling yourself (and your friends) that you didn’t want to, but the more time you spent with him, the more you found yourself yearning for it. There were times of lingering touches; his hand on your lower back as he guided you into a building, his fingertips brushing yours as you walked, his leg pressing against yours while you sat next to each other in the courtyard or at the Three Broomsticks. 
Hermione, the ever observant friend that she was, noticed your shift in attitude towards Mattheo even before you did. So when she cornered you in the common room, demanding you tell her your true feelings it was almost a relief to let it all out. 
“I think I might actually like him, Mione. Like, I know that sounds like something an insane person would say, that they like Mattheo Riddle, like romantically, like someone who isn’t just some daft bimbo, but there's just so much more to him that he lets people see.”
Hermione can’t help but laugh, “I get what you mean. Harry and Ron are coming around, you know. They see how happy you look when you’re with him.” 
You tilt your head slightly at this, “What do you mean how happy I look?” 
Hermione just shakes her head with a smile, “Like you’re with your person.” You can’t escape the blush that creeps up your neck and covers your cheeks. Hermione’s giggling at you now, “Have you still not kissed him yet?” 
You scoffed, “Godric, no.” She pushed your shoulder playfully, “Well why not, y/n/n? Don’t you want to?” 
You looked down at your hands, playing with your fingers, “I mean…I think so? But he just hasn’t really…gone for it, you know?” 
She nodded in solidarity, “Oh I know, trust me. I had to make the first move with Ronald. Maybe you have to do the same thing?” 
You contemplated her words. They invaded a space in your brain for the rest of the night, then the rest of the next morning, and through dinner, and even now as you stood leaning against the railing in the astronomy tower waiting for Mattheo to meet you. 
When you heard him coming up the steps you turned only to see him with the sweetest smile on his face. “Hey pretty girl,” he greeted as he enveloped you in a hug. “Hi, Teo,” you had donned the nickname on him your third or so time at Hogsmead. He gave you a good squeeze before letting go, his arms still lingering on your waist with yours around his neck, “What’d you wanna talk about?” 
His question was innocent, no implications in his voice that he expected anything beyond you wanting to see him. With Hermione’s advice in the back of your head you knew you needed to just act, as any more talking might lead to you psyching yourself out. 
You slid your hands down from his neck, grasping lightly to the lapel of his blazer. He raised his eyebrows slightly at the action, the smallest of smirks on his face. 
Without giving yourself time to overthink you pull him into you, lips crashing against yours. He’s shocked at first, but just for a moment before he responds, walking you back until you’re pressed against the stone wall.
One of his hands slides up your body, ghosting over your stomach and the valley of your breasts before settling lightly on your neck. The implication of the hand gesture makes you whimper slightly and Mattheo takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss. Your hands find his hair, tugging lightly at the curls.
When he finally pulls away you find yourself chasing his lips and he smiled at the reaction. “I think I could kiss you forever,” his forehead is resting against yours, lips still so close you can feel his breath on your own. “Yeah?” you laugh a little, smile only increasing when he presses a kiss to your cheek, “Yeah, pretty girl. Forever.”
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crimsntwlip · 4 months
Text
"i said i love the smiths" | pt. 2
pairing: mattheo riddle x fem!reader
warnings: slow burn, readers status not mentioned, reader is a slytherin
summary: after that little interaction that happened between you and mattheo, he starts to notice you more.
a/n: ¿i think i might turn this into a chapter fic? if this does well.. please Imk your thoughts !!
masterlist I posted: 11/22/23 | part 1
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a few days had passed since the little gathering in slytherin. mattheo was currently sitting in potions class next to theodore, quietly dozing off into his own little world while snape’s monotonous words bore him to death.
his mind drifted to her, thinking back to the little interaction they had during the party and how quickly he wanted to get to know more of her. during those few days that had passed, mattheo was consumed by thoughts of (y/n). he had become more aware of you; previously, he had not even known your name or acknowledged your presence in the classes you both shared, something he had not realized until recently.
he had his eyes fixed on the back of your head without realizing it. snape on the other hand, clearly noticed the distracted gaze mattheo had, quickly calling him out for it.
“mister riddle!” he exclaimed loudly, making him jump slightly in embarrassment as everyone turned their heads towards him, including yours as he immediately looked up at snape as he noticed that you had turned around to face the boy while he was being scolded.
snape deadpanned, "i see you're paying much attention." he scowled, "what negative effects could peppermint potion have?" he gave the instruction, causing mattheo to cast a sidelong glance in theodore’s direction, who appeared amused by the scenario.
he turned his gaze back towards the professor, “uh.. well..” he dragged, clearing his throat before continuing, “that would be uh steam coming from the ears?” he answered which sounded more of a question.
(y/n) noticed the confused tone in his voice, making her snicker quietly but quickly dying down when snape snapped his head towards her, making her feel small as she sunk into her seat. mattheo grinned at her but quickly wiped it off as snape turned back towards him. “correct.” he revealed sternly.
“now if you care to pay attention this time.” he requested, giving mattheo a determined look. theodore nudged him in his rib, smirking as mattheo simply narrowed his eyes at him before turning back towards the lesson, glancing at (y/n) here and there.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
(y/n) felt a small shove, she furrowed her brows as her two bestfriends filled the empty seats next to her at the dining table. "i heard what happened in potions," elenoise commented as she began to load her plate with goods. she glanced at a puzzled (y/n). “what do you mean?” (y/n) asked, recalling back to earlier, you thought nothing particular happened.
“you really don’t know?” elenoise asked as she began stuffing her mouth, (y/n) shook her head at the girl, as she began to grow curious. “a certain slytherin was scolded for staring at you the entire lesson!” augusta chimed in, wiggling her eyebrows at you with a grin. “me?” you asked, you felt a slight blush creep up, the two girls nod at you.
“actually,” augusta muttered, she moved her gaze away and looked across the table, not that far away from you guys was mattheo who sitting with his friends as his attention was fixated towards you. “he’s looking at you right now!” augusta smirked, you follow her gaze, immediately making eye contact with mattheo.
as you made eye contact with him, almost immediately did he look away. his ears turning red from embarrassment of being caught as he tried avoiding your stare, turning his attention back to his friends. your friends start laughing, holding onto your shoulders for support as they held their stomach. you though, stayed quiet as you continue blushing, looking down at your food as your friends continued to tease you about this.
“okay.. thats enough..” you whined, feeling flustered as your friends teased you. you glanced back up at him, revealing once again his gaze on you. you gave him a gentle smile back before turning your attention back to your friends.
thoughts of befriending riddle came across your mind, his small gestures lingering on your mind. maybe, you thought, he isn’t like the others.
mattheo noticed the smile you returned, maybe, just maybe did he have a chance.
taglist: @hisparentsgallerryy
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dragon-ascent · 1 month
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Rex Lapis wants to devour you, so you prepare yourself accordingly.
You sigh, tugging at the stray threads on your hemp tunic. Never would you have thought such a day would arrive - but your god is a dragon, after all. You should consider it an honor he desires to have you for dinner tonight.
Tightening the rope around your waist, you pause. Actually, should you even be wearing any clothes at all? Wouldn't that make it inconvenient while he's eating you? Or perhaps the fabric adds a zing of extra flavour, who knows.
Or maybe he'd like to undress you himself while he dines.
Taking a look at yourself in the reflection of your water bowl, another thought crosses your mind - should you season yourself? Rub some spicy pastes all over? Rex Lapis didn't say anything about that, only that he wanted you for dinner. So before you can overthink it further, you make your way to the elaborate den the deity resides in.
The lofty dragon, coiled up at rest, perks up when he catches sight of you making your way to him. His eyes shimmer with excitement, and his long whiskers seem to have a mind of their own as they dance about. He eagerly leads you further inside, mentioning how he has been looking forward to tonight.
Now that you're here, you're starting to get cold feet - but it's too late to turn back or do anything about it. His dinner table - your chopping block, ostensibly - lies in wait.
Upon the stone table is a wide array of dishes - rice, pastes, breads, pickled and fermented vegetables, some broths... wow, this dragon certainly intends to make a feast out of you, huh?
Gulping, you pensively ask, "Will it hurt? Or will you kill me first and then eat? I don't want to die painfully..."
Rex Lapis, taken aback, nearly knocks over a decorative plant when he turns to you. "Whatever are you alluding to?" he asks, lowering his head so his gaze is level with yours.
You blink. "You...said you wanted me for dinner."
There's a long pause within which an entire generation could live and die. Then, Rex Lapis speaks.
"My dear, when I said I wished to have you for dinner, I meant as a guest."
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rileyslibrary · 8 months
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The team is invited to a wedding. You and Ghost are trying to pass time.
———————————————————————
You walk down the candlelit path leading to the wedding reception, holding a beautifully wrapped gift in your arms. A friendly usher welcomes you with a warm smile and extends his hands, offering to take the package from you. As you hand it over, a hostess greets you politely and asks for your name. You introduce yourself, and she scans her clipboard.
Your gaze is drawn to the chateau in the distance, which appears to have been plucked from a fairytale. Questions about its history and the people who once called it home fill your mind. Who used to live here? And who is generous enough to offer its premises for newlyweds to host their wedding receptions? How old is this place, anyway?
“Fourteen,” the hostess says.
“Excuse me?”
She takes a look at the clipboard before returning her gaze to you. “You’re seated at table 14.” She repeats.
You nod and walk to the garden to find your seat. Like the chateau, the dining area outside is quite a sight: tables with crisp tablecloths, beautifully decorated with floral arrangements, flickering candles, and elegant glassware.
You spot your table; it’s almost empty, save for a familiar face sitting on one of the chairs. Well, not entirely familiar, as you only see it on special occasions when he is absolutely required to remove his balaclava.
“Nice place,” you quip, and he turns to look at you.
“It’s not mine,” he murmurs, returning his gaze to the distance.
You sigh and roll your eyes. “It was a comment about the estate, you asshole.” You explain and take a seat right next to him.
He huffs and points his thumb at the chateau. “That thing is nice?” he retorts, slowly shaking his head. “Not my style.”
“What’s your style?” you ask, hoping to engage him in conversation.
“Something smaller, simpler,” he says, looking at the chateau, “without so many... windows.”
“No windows?” You inquire, raising one eyebrow. “You’re not secretly a vampire, are you, Lieutenant?”
He smirks and rolls up his sleeves. “Me? No,” he murmurs, “but this wedding is sucking the bloody life out of me.”
“Because you were so full of it before,” you say jokingly. “Can’t you be happy for your comrades for once?”
He reclines in his chair, intertwines his fingers, and places his hands on his stomach. “Let’s just say that I could have been even happier for them in the comfort of my own home,” he replies.
You set your clutch bag on the table. “Why didn’t you just stay at home then?” You ask.
“Social obligation,” he explains with a shrug.
You widen your eyes and raise your eyebrows. “Social obligation?” You repeat, a smile forming at the corners of your lips. “That’s something I never expected to hear coming out of your mouth.”
He scoffs and picks up the wedding favour that has been carefully placed on his plate. “Oh, yeah?” He points to the golden letters on the small pistachio-coloured box, “Wait till you hear me say ‘macaron’.” He replies sarcastically, attempting to pull off a fake French accent.
You playfully put the back of your hand on your forehead, pretending to be fainting. Simon smiles and leans back in his chair, repositioning the box on the table.
“The others?” You ask, “They’re not here yet?”
He scans the area with his eyes slowly before pointing in the distance. “There’s Price talking to the couple...” he looks over his shoulder and motions towards the bar, “...and Soap is waiting for his drink.”
“What about Gaz?” You ask.
“The Sargent was talking to the maid of honour a little while ago. They could be testing the stability of the century-old furniture in there,” he speculates, looking up at the top floor of the chateau.
Your mouth drops open. “Diana, the medic?” You yell.
He presses his index finger to his lips. “Shh!” He whispers sternly.
You apologise, then place your hand over your mouth and whisper, “Diana, the medic?!”
“Oh, please,” he sneers, “as if you didn’t notice how they greet each other at the base.”
“I had no idea!” You reply, surprised.
“Well, maybe if you stopped talking so much and started paying more attention to your surroundings, you’d notice things a little bit more.”
You stick your tongue out at him and mock his statement. He smiles and gently nudges your leg with his.
“You wore heels.” He comments, looking down at your feet.
“I did,” you confirm, “and what of it?”
He clears his throat, smirks, and shifts his gaze to the horizon.
“What?” You repeat.
“Nothing.” He responds, and his smile broadens.
“Tell me!” You command and crack a smile.
His shoulders move up and down as he suppresses his laughter. He’s thoroughly enjoying watching you beg for an answer. You pinch his arm, and he groans.
“Hey,” he says between laughs, grabbing your wrist to stop you. He gestures towards the distance, where the maid of honour walks to the front of the stage, explaining something to the DJ while instinctively fixing her hair.
“I wonder how long it will be before Kyle appears.” You mumble.
Ghost turns around. “Not long,” he says, motioning towards the bar. You turn to face Soap, straightening Gaz’s tie.
“You think MacTavish knows?” You ask.
“Soap?” Ghost asks, shaking his head. “Nah.”
“Why not?”
“Look at him,” he orders. “Would he be so focused on fixing Gaz’s tie if he knew? On the contrary, he’d be bugging him for details.”
You place your hand on his shoulder and lean closer to his ear. “Yes, but we know about their secret endeavours,” you whisper, “what do we say to him?”
He tightens his grip on your wrist and widens his eyes. “We say fuck all,” he replies sternly. “I told you, observe more and talk less.”
“Oh, unless you get to gossip with one of your teammates instead?” You tease.
“I’m not gossiping!” He protests. “Gossiping involves judging other people’s life choices.”
You lean back in your chair and cross your arms. “And what is it that you do, Lieutenant?”
He shrugs. “People-watching.” He states.
“People-watching.” You repeat.
He gives a nod. “And I guarantee you,” he murmurs, “that someone here is doing the exact same thing to us: watching us laughing, me pushing your leg, looking at your heels, you pinching my arm, whispering in my ear. Do you think we’re the only ones who keep an eye on others?”
You blush and look around, hoping to spot the perpetrator who will prove Ghost’s theory.
“You mean to tell me that other people are watching us and think we’re flirting?” you ask, embarrassed.
“Aren’t we?” He smirks.
You blush even more and sit up straight. “Yeah,” you admit with a smile, “we are.”
———————————————————————
A/N: Thank you to that anon who inspired me yesterday. I may have written half of the story while at the wedding reception. 😬
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k1ngpin42 · 25 days
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You two aren’t dating but she thinks you’re hers.
Note: The fics pretty long so I'll have the smut in bold as per usual. I also take requests. Enjoyy
Warnings: Fingering & fisting, dominant Abby, cunnilingus, thigh riding, rough, restraints, scissoring, possessive Abby, hickeys 
You’ve been best friends with Abby as long as you can remember. Her dad loves you, you go on all assignments together and she trusts you more than anyone. 
As you’ve grown older, in turn you have also gotten considerably prettier, stronger, and others have definitely noticed. Men and women alike have been flirting with you during and after assignments. Most attempts at courting you were unsuccessful though. Ever heard the term ‘if a look could kill?’ Well if anyone sent so much as a smile in your direction, she would return their affections with a look so intense they might as well be dead.
It had been a few days since you had been assigned somewhere with Abby. You knew she loved doing the more strenuous stuff with Manny, so you had been partnered with a nice man named Ryan for most of your recent missions. He had been helping you adjust to long shipment assignments and high risk activities such as defending areas rich in supplies, but a lot of the time Ryans patrol were assigned to what WLFS call “ghost missions,” (scanning large perimeters of land for trespassers, even when 9 days out of 10, the only people trespassing were infected stragglers.)
The two of you were closer than the other’s in his patrol group, likely because most patrols were so fucking boring and you two needed a way to pass the time. It was becoming clear he had certain affection growing towards you, and after being so…distracted by Abby all these years, you decided the attention was nice.
You made your way to the dining hall for breakfast. You never ate anything that early in the morning as a result of your night-person-only demeanour, however you enjoyed sitting at the table with a hot cup of coffee and listening to the white noise of people eating and chatting before going out into the cruelty of Seattle. The dining hall felt like a sort of safe haven for you in the mornings, a time when there weren’t so many people as to make you feel overwhelmed but just enough to convince you that you weren’t entirely alone. 
You were surprised to see Abby and Manny getting trays of food and chatting in the line. Your face involuntary flushed when they approached. It wasn’t noticeable, but you felt the heat under your skin. 
“Manny!” You exclaim, happily. You two had always been platonic soulmates. His irritating puns and smooth way of talking was refreshing in a place with so many serious people. You supposed that’s why you liked Abby too. Aside, of course, from her arms that could, and you would happily let, crush you with ease. 
“Hey Abs.” You say, more quietly and with less excitement. She smiles widely at you.
“It’s good to see you again, it feels like I haven’t seen you in ages!” She remarks, sitting across from you. Manny sits next to her.
“So what’s new?” Manny asks, and before you can answer Abby looks at your empty tray with mild concern.
“You’re not eating?” She asks. You’re taken by surprise a little and take a beat before answering.
“Just coffee.” You reply, still feeling more nervous than you should. 
“You should eat before assignments.” She instructs. 
“I’ll be fine.”
You notice a reaction of either disgust, irritation, or both appear on Abby’s face and you turn around to see what it could be. You smile when you notice Ryan approaching.
“Ryan! Good morning!” You say. Abby rolls her eyes.
“A lot of excitement for 9 in the morning.” She mumbles to Manny.
“Hey!” He speaks with excitement, pulling out the bench slightly and sitting beside you. Abby practically groans.
“Oh, I’m sorry, was someone sitting there?” He asks politely. Abby grunts.
“Well…no, but-“
“No one’s sitting there.” You reassure him, looking deeply into his eyes as he gets comfortable in his chair.
“I got you some of those packaged cornflakes you love to snack on. I knew you wouldn’t be hungry enough for breakfast but the sugar should you give you enough energy for the day.” He explains, passing you a packet. 
“What a gentlemen.” Manny claims with amusement. Abby’s face now depicted an expression that the word “annoyed” wouldn’t even justify. 
“She doesn’t eat breakfast.” Abby speaks, almost like a warning. You just smile softly at her, then back at him.
“No, no it’s very sweet, I’ll have some.” You say, peeling off the packaging and taking a small handful of some. 
“You’ll need the energy, we’ve got another one of those long cargo shipments ahead of us. It’ll finally just be us today.” He says, pushing a spoonful of some sort of porridge into his mouth from the bowl in front of him. 
“Isaac’s trusting us to be alone together?” You ask with delight. He nods his head and Abby gives another appalled look.
“Why wouldn’t you be? Can you two not focus together or what?”
You look at her, confused at where this attitude is coming from. 
“Aha…no, it’s just we usually go in a four person patrol, I guess he trusts us more now.”
“Or he just doesn’t want to waste too many men for such long periods of time-“ Ryan tries to say before getting interrupted.
“Actually-“ Abby begins abruptly in a way that seemed to startle even herself. Everyone turns to look at her and she doesn’t let this intimidate her, too deep in it now to stop talking.
“I came to tell you that you’re with me today. Manny’s swapping with Ryan.”
“I’m sorry, what??” Manny starts. Abby gives Manny a pleading look. He sighs.
“It’s true.” He agrees through gritted teeth.
“Oh…” Ryan murmured. You put a hand on his shoulder.
“It’s no problem, Manny’s a great ally to have for shit like this.” You offer, now rubbing his arm gently. He nods.
“I was hoping to spend more time with you.”
“Well we don’t need patrol for that.” You say, somewhat flirtatiously. His whole attitude seems to shift and if auras were visible, his would be golden right now.
“Then, do you want to hang out when you’re back?” Once again, your chance to respond is taken from you.
“That’ll be impossible, it will probably be night time by the time we’re back.” Abby explains. His smirk widens, still making eye contact with you.
“Even better.” 
This is Abby’s final straw and she gets up and grabs your wrist which appears to vanish completely under Abby’s large fist.
“She’ll think about it.” She says, guiding you away. You look at her, not annoyed, just confused.
“Abigail…” You start, softly. She doesn’t say anything, she seems too angry with life to process words right now.
“I mean no offence by this question, but Abs, are you okay?” She doesn’t respond for a while, still guiding you to the wagons. She sighs before answering.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” She asks, as if the question were aimed towards herself, rather than you.
You shrug. “Must have been my imagination.” She doesn’t say anything and just lifts you up onto the wagon. There are two other men there and Abby tells them you’re ready, the wagon leaving swiftly at her command. 
“So what was with the swap?” You ask. She seem’s happier now, or at least less tense. She lets out a deep breath. 
“I missed you.” She replies, nonchalantly. You feel your heart do things that can’t be healthy inside your chest at these words. You nod, trying to keep your composure. 
“Cool.” You say, finally allowing yourself the courage to look her into her eyes again. 
When you reach a block in the road, you both get out decide to look for alternate ways across. There’s some debris blocking the road that appears almost impossible to clear from this side. You also notice that there are some buildings you could potentially cut through. You walk up to one and a runner runs out at you. You desperately pull it away from your neck, stabbing it with your pocket knife. 
Abby runs in at the commotion and see’s the dead runner on the floor. 
“Are you bit?” She breathes out, her face consumed with panic. You laugh.
“No.” You say, giving her a comforting smile. “Of course not.” 
“Let’s keep mo-“ you start. Abby pulls you in without the faintest of warnings, hugging you tightly.
While blushing ferociously at the feel of her large body against yours, the refinement of the muscles on her arms, the feeling of her chest against yours, you manage a strained.
“I’m alright.”
She doesn’t let you go at this. Instead, she snakes her arms around your body, moving her arms down to your hips. You feel the lower part of your body quiver and you quickly press your legs together, some part of you believing she could know the things you thought about her somehow. 
“What are-“ She moves her hands to your ass, then hips, then she runs them back up again. 
“I missed you.” She breathed out. You break away from the hug and look at her directly in the eyes.
You search desperately for any indication of deception. This has to be some kind of prank. If Abby liked you back you would know, wouldn’t you? 
The thought occurs to you that she didn’t know you liked her, so why couldn’t the same thing apply?
No. There was no way. Abby was straight, probably…
“Abby?” You question. She eyes you slowly. 
“Mm…” She hums, clearly in her own world. 
“Why…” You pause, and it feels like that girl has taken every breath from your body body before you can take it.
“Why did…you want me to come with you today?” You feel the heat of the air from both your mouths. You’re so fucking close to each other, it would take almost nothing to- no. Focus, you keep telling yourself. 
“You’re a good shot, good company too, I missed it.” She declares, matter-of-factly. You nod and she puts a large hand on your face.
“Or maybe I didn’t want you doing assignments with that boy toy.” You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the way her hand is making you feel.
“And how is Ryan a boy toy?” You ask, stammering a little.
“Have you seen the way he looks at you?” She demands, and her tone startles you. Her eyes soften when she notices your reaction.
“He clearly wants to sleep with you, I’m just looking out for you cause I mean, men like that they only want one thing, you know?” She asks softly. You give her a provocative look.
“What if I only want one thing from him too?” You watch as Abby’s eyebrows furrow and that same look of disgust splashes over her.
“You CAN’T be serious.” She spits, removing her hand and stepping away from you.
“What’s wrong with that? It’s not like anyone else wants me-“
“I-“ Abby practically yells, her words trailing off.
“He’s not good for you. He wouldn’t know…how to treat you.” You sigh.
“Well, I need to sleep with someone.” You admit “Why does it bother you?”
“Because, you belong to me.” She says quietly, looking down at the ground. You’re stunned at her words.
“What? I…don’t belong to anyone-“
—————————————————————————————
✨Smut✨
“Can I kiss you?” She asks, the question sounding more like an order. 
You don’t allow yourself to consider anything else before grabbing her face and mashing you lips against hers. 
Still stunned by the situation, you feel her lips part obediently against yours and you gain the chance to suck on her tongue, tasting the inside of her mouth as the kisses became deeper, more intense. 
Your head is racing, but you ignore the scrambled thoughts, letting yourself moan slightly into the kiss, feeling her hands tracing your shirt.
“Please.” She says quietly. You don’t know what’s happening, she’s never treated you like this, never wanted you. You’ve heard her say please maybe once- actually, you’re not sure you’ve heard her say that at all, but now here she was, practically begging to see more of you. 
It’s Abby fucking Anderson after all, so despite logic dictating that the reasonable decision would be to talk things out and see if her feelings are genuine, you comply without even taking a breath, practically tearing your shirt off for her. 
She practically stares at your chest, mesmerised by the way they sit perfectly in your well fitted bra, deep blue and black lace. Once she manages to close her jaw, she gapes, “you wear this on all your patrols?” You shake your head.
“All my others were in the wash…” you stammer. She says nothing, grabbing you forcefully and putting her lips on your neck. 
You moan involuntarily, knowing your neck is your sweet spot and now, she knows it too. Instead of just kissing it now, she sucks harshly at your skin like you’re a goddamn lollipop, running her tongue over different areas as she went.
“Take yours off too.” You say, feeling heat grow between your legs at even her simplest of  actions. Her smirk makes you go feral. 
“Already desperate for me, hm?” She asks. The back of your neck is hot and you feel your stomach doing summersaults.
Deciding actions speak louder than words, you lift her shirt off her shoulders and you could melt right fucking there. In all her glory, a perfect chest covered by a pale coloured bra. A stunning set of Abs with a light shine of sweat from the travel and heat and you can see her arms fully now, and they were just as you had imagined, if not better.
“Fuck, Abs, you’re so-“ You whimper when she bites down unexpectedly at your neck before moving her mouth away. Then, she kisses your stomach, all the while moving her fingers down into your underwear.
“Take this shit off.” She instructs, motioning at your jeans by pulling aggressively at the fabric. You sigh at how obedient you’ve become, kicking your shoes off, then lowering your pants to the floor. 
“Good girl.” Abby grinned, putting her whole hand in your underwear with no warning.
“Mm…” A high pitched moan escapes your lips in anticipation, it’s quiet, but in the small room Abby could hear the sweet chorus of your moans in her ear, making her speed up her pace. 
She found your clit immediately, using two of her wide fingers to draw painfully slow circles across where you were most sensitive. 
“A…Abby” You shut your eyes tight as she feels you, fucking with all of your senses for sport. 
‘Look at me when I’m fucking you.” She demands, using her left hand to cover your throat. She doesn’t squeeze though, she doesn’t want to hurt you, at least not yet. 
“Stop….teasing me.” You plead as she continues having her way with your cunt, fingers already drenched as a result of her torture. She smirks.
“You shouldn’t have let that slut sit with us.” She says, stopping what she’s doing and putting them inside you this time, moving her thumb quickly over your clit in their absence. She start’s fucking your inner walls as rough as she wants to, not giving a fuck how overwhelming it feels. You lean your head back, gripping at her biceps and clawing them slightly with your nails. She gasps at the feeling of this, and you can tell she’s getting off on it. 
“That’s what this ’s about? Mmm….” You moan, still looking into her eyes as best you can. “You’re jealous?” 
“Shut the fuck up.” She says, removing her fingers from your neck and putting them in your mouth instead.
“Put that pretty mouth to use and be grateful for the pleasure I give you.” You suck gratefully at her fingers and instead of the slow pace she was doing before, she goes so fast you feel your stomach start to swirl immediately. “MMM” You moan through her fingers. She doesn’t stop, not even when you claw at her arms so hard they make imprints in her skin. You can’t fight the need to close your eyes this time, and suddenly, right before orgasm, you feel nothing. Her long, wide fingers go out of you and your pussy pulses, as if to complain in morse code. She removes her hands from your mouth.
“Why?” You gasp. She kisses you deeply again, throwing you against a wall and protecting your head with her hand.
“I told you, look at me when I’m fucking you, or I stop.” She warns, putting her hand into your underwear again.
You cry out as she does so, you were already so sensitive. She smiles innocently at you.
“Aw, too much baby?” She asks, still refusing to switch up her speed, moving fast and hard in and out of your cunt. The slick from inside you leaks off her fingers, painting the inside of your thighs. She keeps going. And going. Until you are clutching onto her and throbbing as you release on her hand. 
 You let out a satisfied sigh, but Abby is far from reaching that point herself and looks around the room, spotting an empty couch. 
She picks you up effortlessly, your legs clinging onto her. She throws you onto the couch, moving on top of you and ensuring you have no where to go. Once in a good position, she’s moving her knee dangerously close to your cunt. 
“It’s too soon…” you breathe out, moving your legs together to protect your dripping pussy. She ignores you, circling your clit and entire pussy with her concealed knee. The tough material of her green cargo jeans manipulating yet another painful orgasm from her is a feeling second to none, and she already has you moaning her name.
“A…Abby…” you cry. She moves faster.
You let out a shaky gasp. “…bby” she moves wider.
“A-“ you can’t even finish your sentence before bucking your hips into her knee and another orgasm floods your body. 
“You’re so wet for me baby.” She hums, taking off her belt and pants. 
“Put your arms up.” She commands,her expression neutral and portraying that same look she always gets when she has something she needs to get done. You just look at her, admiring her body. Her eyes darken at your behaviour and she grabs your arms, tying her belt over them with one hand, tightening your hands together.
“Don’t want to listen to me, huh? I’ll show you what happens when you don’t behave. While gaping over the fact you can no longer move your hands, Abby pushes her head in between your cunt and you practically scream as she tastes you, flattening her tongue on your clit and moving her head around and around to explore every bit off your pussy like it’s the most important thing she’ll ever do.
She moans out as she does it and your pussy throbs in her mouth at this. You can tell this has swiftly became Abby’s new favourite activity, and you wouldn’t be surprised if this becase a regular hang out routine.
Your confined hands make it harder for you, as you can’t grab on to Abby’s hair or even the leather couch. She continues moaning and sucking sloppily, her hands on either thigh.
“I’m, I’m gonna-“ You start, and Abby takes this as an indication to give you everything she has, putting three fingers into your tight hole all while not coming up for air.
Abby slows down the movements with her tongue, still giving you enough to feel fucking heavenly, but not enough to make you cum just yet.
With every bit of care, Abby slowly puts a fourth finger in and tears dwell in your eyes.
“F….fuck….mmmhm” You cry. She moves her head away so she’ll be audible.
“Think you can take my whole hand baby?” Feral was an understatement of understatements. This question made you feel so fucking insane you probably wouldn’t even remember your own name if you were asked it right now. You look at her hand, her wide fingers, her massive fist you had seen use to bash people’s skulls into the floor, her whole fist would probably cause some sort of damage to you, surely…
“Yea..” you whisper. She smiles widely.
“That’s my good girl.” She says before returning to her previous position, licking your glistening slit as she eased her hand inside you. 
“Mmm fu- mmmm Ab- oh m- fuck” The feeling of her tongue was electrifying. To think Abby could have liked you before, to think you guys could have been doing this ages ago, fuck there was nothing like it in the world. You always dreamed of this, always wondered what it would be like if she used those hands for more than just violence or working out, and now you got your answer. Now you truely knew how fucking good she was. 
That sensation she had made you experienced several times in the last hour or less was returning and as she continued doing tricks with her tongue and hand, you weren’t sure how much longer you could hold on.
“Abigail….” You moan. She moves her fist in and out slightly faster.
“I’m gonna fucking….Abby~~” You gasp, releasing hard as your body cried out for a break. It takes a while to take back your breath as Abby eases out of you, admiring her now coated hand.
“Was that good, baby?” You don’t reply, blushing ferociously at the site of her hand and fingers.
“Come on,” she says, untying your hands. “You’ve got one more in you my gorgeous girl.” She chants, and now that you can actually see again, you have the opportunity to see her entire body. She’s wearing boxers that look so fucking good on her you want to tear them off with your teeth. 
She notices your staring and smiles. 
“Like what you see baby?” You nod excitedly.
“God, yes.” You exclaim. She has that cocky fucking smirk on her face again. She knows she good. 
“You’re hands are free now, you can touch.” She explains, her voice low. Before you even have a chance to touch her, though, she grabs your arm and does it for you, placing your hand there and allowing you to feel the shape of her cunt through the smooth material. 
And fuck. She’s wet. You don’t why you thought she wouldn’t be. Maybe you had assumed she was above that, or maybe you were still in denial she had any kind of feelings for you at all, even if she only wanted sex or whatever the fuck it is Abby wants. 
You start feeling her up through the fabric and she tilts her head.
“You first.” You let out an annoyed breath and she laughs at how adorable she finds you.
“You’ve already made me…well…a lot.” You say, your face a deep red. 
“Why can’t I let you feel good?” You ask. She picks you up and places you on her thigh, leaning herself back against the sofa. 
“Pleasuring you does make me feel good baby. So I’m gonna do anything and everything I want to you unless I hear any objections.” Still blushing, you nod.
“You won’t get any from me.” You declare quietly.
“I’m gonna teach you better than to question me.” She insists, grabbing your hips and moving your clit over her bare thigh. You can’t help but smile as pleasure surrounds you again.
“Fuck Abs…” She keeps guiding your hips, breathing heavy herself at the sight of you.
“Look at you, my pretty girl fucking herself on my leg. I wonder, does it turn you on?” Your still throbbing cunt feels amazing against her quads and you can’t help but wrap your arms around her neck and pull yourself in closer.
“Yes.” You admit in her ear. She kisses you hungrily while increasing the pace.
“Yes, what?”
“A…abby.” You say, and her eyes roll back, her head hitting the wall at how turned on she is. You could cum at the sight of it.
“Will you please let me make you cum?” You ask, just wanting her to feel even a fraction of what she’s made you feel. She takes one hand off your hip and puts it on your neck, her hand fitting almost completely around it. 
“Look at you.” She whispers, enticingly.  “SO fucking desperate. The way I love.” Abby coos. You roll your eyes.
“Will you at least take your bra off?” She shoves you down onto the couch, pinning your hands down with her over you.
“Do you want to see what happens when you keep making demands before I’m done with you?” She asks. 
Still gasping for air from the shock of the situation, you don’t answer, instead you just shake you head. You want her too fucking bad, you can’t wait to be fucked any longer, even if painful and slowly drawn out orgasms with her hands and mouth were arguably as good right about now.
“Don’t make me tie your hands again.” She warns, retuning you to the position before and watching you get off on her thigh. You remain like this for some time, just slowly feeling yourself on her bare thighs.
“Tell me how good it feels baby.” 
“S’ good Abs.” You say, and she increases the pace. 
“Tell me what you think of Ryan.”
“What? N-now?” You breathe out, already closer to the edge than you should be right now. Before she can make another one of her remarks, you stop her.
“Alright, alright, I- I don’t know, he’s okay-“
“Do you think he’s hot?” She asks, sucking on your neck as she guides your hips. You moan loudly when she does this, fuck you love when she kisses your neck. You would let your entire neck be riddled with hickeys for her, you wouldn’t even care who saw. 
“I asked you a question.” “No. No I don’t think he’s hot.”
“So you were gonna use him for sex, then? No attraction?” Abby asks. Fuck you’re so close. 
“I….yes.”
“Yes what?”
“Yes Abby, I…was gonna use him for sex.” 
“Why?”
“Abby I’m gonna c-“
“WHY?” She yells. Fuck you’re cumming. 
“C-cause I n- ugh~”  She hugs you tightly, still not removing you from her thigh. You breathe out desperately. 
“I needed a distraction from you.” You blurt out, teary eyed from all the sex. She actually looks surprised at this.
“Wait, what? From me?”
“I’ve liked you for….mmm…a while.” You say. She kisses you deeply for a long time, several minutes of just entangling your mouths in each others throats, if that were even possible.
“I…wanted you so bad that I- I thought he would distract me, make it hurt less that you didn’t want m-“ “You shut the fuck up. I’ve never not wanted you. You’re fucking mine.”
“What? But you never said anything.” You exclaim. She shakes her head dismissively. 
“Yeah well I’m a fucking idiot. Let’s see if there’s a bed in this place, I wanna fuck you properly.”
You look down at the infected on the floor not too far from you.
“Ah yes, the bed belonging to that dead guy over there, romantic.” She can’t help but laugh at this and you both walk through the building, (you practically limping you’re that sensitive). There’s a bedroom. The bed doesn’t look exactly comfortable, but it’s better than a couch or floor.
In saying that though, you would let Abby take you anywhere on any surface at any time if you were truly being honest with yourself. 
She places you carefully on the bed. 
“It’s not that bad?” She asks, and you both smile. She takes her bra off and you try your best to keep your composure but in your mind you’re smiling like a little girl.
“Go on then.” She says, and she doesn’t need to tell you twice. You pin her down, (something she definitely let you do rather than something you did yourself) and start kissing her tits, sucking only for a few seconds on each of her hard nipples. The actual flesh there is soft and you let your hand explore her exposed chest too.
She just watches, amused. Your hand reaches into her boxes and she opens her mouth to stop you, but bites her tongue. She’s not used to anything less than rough, quick sex, all of which she was usually the dominant one, but then again, she’s never been with anyone she cared about until now. She lets out a surprised and satisfied gasp when you find her weakest spot quite easily and rub circles over the area with two fingers at a swift pace.
“Mmm.” She speaks, happily. You position your head in between her legs, still moving your fingers and letting consequent moans and gasps leave her pretty lips. You kiss her inner thigh, licking the muscular skin and eventually sucking it too, leaving dark purple marks there. You go to suck her off through the fabric but she puts a hand on your chin and pulls you back up to eye height. 
“I don’t think so. My turn.” You don’t fight her on this and she pulls her underwear down, tossing it on the floor. Then, she takes off any of your remaining clothes and licks down your entire body. She spits on your pussy, as if it weren’t wet enough, and positions herself cautiously. 
She moves her leg up over your shoulder and pulls you into her and fuck. She fits in you like a fucking glove. You both gasp at the contact. Your arms are up straight to support yourself and your head tilts back, both moaning in unison.
“Mmm….fuck, baby” 
“A…Abby.” You both moan. You move faster and somehow you both manage to keep a perfect rhythm, feeling heat and various other things between you.
“Tell me I’m…fucking yours.” Abby orders between moans. 
“I’m yours Abby.” “You belong- ah~”
“I belong to Abby…Anderson.” You breathe out. She leans her head back.
“Fuck baby keep doing that and I’ll come.”
“There’s no-one else but you Abby.”
“Mmmph~” She replies, shutting her eyes. You can tell she’s so close.
“No one….can fuck me like y- ah~~”
“Fuck I’m c- mmm.” She let’s out, and you both feel each other’s orgasms in addition to your own. 
You don’t stop right away though, you ride it out until there’s nothing left and the sheet’s below you are drenched. 
When you finally regain consciousness or, at least a grip on reality, you look up at Abby who’s stroking your hair with her middle fingers.
“That was probably my most eventful patrol yet.” You say. She kisses you deeply.
“Sorry I was so rough on you.”
“Yeah, where did that even come from? I mean…do you fuck all your friends when you don’t like someone they talk to?” You tease. She huffs.
“Call me your friend again and I’ll fuck you into next week.”
You grin. 
“Deal.”
1K notes · View notes
kingkonoha · 9 months
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𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐋𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔, and his friends always tease him about it.
Eren and his boys—Jean, Connie, and Armin—spent four days together in Miami, Florida. It was a much needed trip, and each of them wanted to focus solely on spending money, having fun, and meeting beautiful women.
Except Eren.
He enjoyed ziplining over pools, drinking at clubs, going to the beach, and eating nearly all of the complimentary hotel breakfast food with Connie by his side, who started stuffing fruits and cups of cereal—with no milk, as he forgot, of course—into his clothes once the staff told him breakfast would end in ten minutes.
Even so, as he sat in the hotel’s dining area that had a light aroma of stale coffee and sunscreen, he missed you desperately.
Armin, who sat down at the little table across from Eren with his muffin, fruit, and eggs, could tell that his best friend was upset by the way he stirred his own scrambled eggs around on his plate, but not actually eating them.
“Don’t worry,” Armin looked up at his friend after taking a sip of his orange juice—Armin loved hotel orange juice, and Eren hated it—and the blue-eyed boy flashed a reassuring smile. “We’re going home tomorrow, so you’ll get to see her soon.”
“Yeah,” Eren mumbled.
“Maybe you could FaceTime her before we leave for the day,” Armin suggested. After all, jet skiing and scuba diving were on the agenda, and he truly wanted Eren to enjoy it.
“I already talked to her twenty minutes ago,” Eren sighed, slouching back in his chair. “It only made me miss her even more. She has a new hairstyle and everything.”
“Eren,” Armin slowly chewed on a strawberry as he blinked. “It’s only been a few days.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Eren pinched the bridge of his nose, and that’s when Connie and Jean joined them at their table.
“Guess what,” Connie grinned, placing two packed plates of food on the table. “They said we can sit here and eat as long as we want even after they stop serving breakfast, but we just can’t go back for seconds.”
“Connie grabbed every fucking thing he saw,” Jean frowned, grabbing a seat next to Armin.
“Hell yeah,” Connie picked up a grape, tossing it at Jean’s head. “So don’t be shy, grab whatever you want and eat up!”
“Don’t throw the grapes,” Armin said. “They’re delicious, so try not to waste them.”
“Loosen up, will you?” Jean frowned, breaking his hash brown into pieces before diving right in.
“I’ll loosen up once I know everything’s going according to plan,” Armin paused. “I mean, someone has to make sure we’re on schedule. It’s our last day here, so if we miss something, we won’t get another chance to do it.”
“The hell does that have to do with throwing grapes?” Connie said, earning a laugh from Jean.
Jean ruffled Armin’s blonde hair. “Don’t worry, we know you love the beach. We’re not gonna miss anything, alright? So just relax.”
“Right,” Armin smiled softly, “sorry.”
For a moment, everyone ate their food and engaged in somewhat polite chatter about today’s planned events.
“Alright, so we have our entire morning and afternoon planned,” Jean paused. “What are we doing tonight?”
Armin took that opportunity to bring the one silent member at their table into the conversation.
“Eren, is there anything you wanna do?”
“Yeah. Pack.”
And with that, Eren left the table, tossing his uneaten food in the garbage before heading back to the hotel room.
“Damn it, Connie,” Jean frowned. “I told you to let the guy bring his girlfriend.”
Connie tossed his arms up defensively, swallowing his food before he said, “go to Hell.”
As the day went on, Eren managed to have a bit of fun with his friends. Even so, as he swam with colorful fish and zoomed across the sea, a tingle of pain would shoot through his heart whenever he remembered that you weren’t with him, experiencing all of the bucket-list worthy adventures by his side.
As the group headed home in Jean’s SUV, Eren sat in the backseat besides Connie. He pressed his head against the foggy window, looking out at the orange streetlights passing by.
“Eren,” Connie fought back a laugh, pulling his phone out to record the pouting man. “Why are you acting like you’re in a R&B music video right now?”
“Shut up, Constance.” Eren effortlessly tossed his hand out and smacked Connie’s tattooed arm.
Connie quickly ended the recording.
“I’m gonna drop Eren off first,” Jean said, gripping the steering wheel as he made a left turn, “I really think he might die if he doesn’t get to Y/N soon.”
“Turn left again,” Armin said, directing Jean from the passenger seat. “But guys, leave him alone. Y/N’s lovely. None of us can understand what he’s going through because the three of us are single.”
“Thank you, Armin,” Eren said.
Eren folded his arms across his chest, continuing to sulk like a kid who just had their favorite toy taken away.
But, once Jean turned down a familiar street, the depressed man instantly perked up.
“You’re grinning like a toddler, dude,” Connie teased, but Eren ignored him, gripping the door handle tightly.
Jean tugged on his hat, slowing down as he pulled up in front of your home. However, before Jean could come to a complete stop, Eren started to jump out of the car.
“Eren! Be careful!” Armin warned as Jean slammed on the brakes. His warning was utterly useless, as Eren was already halfway through your front yard by the time the words fell from Armin’s lips.
“You forgot your bags!” Jean shouted, rolling down his window. “Didn’t shut my damn door, either.”
Suddenly, you opened your front door, having heard all of the commotion outside. And when you smiled, all of Eren’s friends could easily see why he was so in love with you.
Eren nearly knocked you over once he finally made it into your arms, a big smile spreading across that beautiful face of his. He showered your forehead and cheek with kisses as he inhaled your comforting scent.
“I missed you so much,” he said.
“I can tell,” you teased, hugging the tall man back. “I missed you too.”
He pulled away from the hug only to cup your face with his large hands. He kissed your lips softly, melting over the touch he had craved for days.
“I’m not going anywhere without you ever again. I don’t care if it’s the grocery store or to the living room,” Eren mumbled against your lips, and you giggled softly.
“Hey!” Jean suddenly honked his horn. “You’ve seen her, now come get your stuff!”
“In a minute,” Eren shouted back, flipping the driver off.
He just had to stare at that gorgeous face of yours for a few more minutes, and who could blame him? He was madly in love with you.
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5K notes · View notes
fallinforgyu · 3 months
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pairing: mingi/fem!reader
genre: childhood best friends to lovers, college au, angst, smut - minors do NOT interact
warnings: no dom/sub dynamic, unrequited love, mutual loss of virginity, mingi has a massive cock, fingering, oral sex (f. recieving)
word count: 10k
a/n: i want to be honest with you guys, this is not a comeback. this is just a little fic that i’ve been working on for the past year or so that has brought me a lot of comfort, and i hope that it can do the same for you. i’m not sure if i’ll ever be active on this blog like i used to be, but please know that i will always be a writer and i will always read every single comment, reblog, and note that is sent to me. thank you for being my readers. i love you all so so dearly <3
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“Hey, Mingi,” Yunho asked, staring at his distorted reflection in the back of a flimsy dining hall spoon, “Have you ever eaten a girl out before?”
 “W-What the fuck?” Mingi choked on his homemade sandwich. “Why would you ask me that?”
 “Because I want to go down on my girl on our next date…” he dropped the spoon on his tray, frowning as it clanged. “We’ve already fucked but I think it’ll be a nice way to show her I really care, you know? But I’ve never done it before.”
 “Wait-” Mingi dropped his voice to a whisper, leaning forward across the table. “You’ve had sex before?” 
 “You haven’t?” Yunho grinned.
 “Of course I haven’t, asshole! Why didn’t you tell me?”
 Yunho shrugged. “Guess I just didn’t think it was that important. What time’s your next class?” 
 “I’m done with classes for the day,” Mingi crumbled the tin foil that previously held his sandwich into a ball. “Yours is at 2:30, right?” 
 The older boy nodded and the two stood up, making their way to the nearest trash can.
 “Besides,” Yunho placed his tray on top of a growing stack of them while Mingi threw away his brown paper bag. “I thought you would’ve already fucked that girl you’re always with by now. What was her name again?”
 Mingi’s eyes widened as your name slipped past Yunho’s lips. “Sh!” he hissed, looking over his shoulder. “I told you to stop asking about her. She doesn’t like me like that.”
 “But you haven’t even tried!”
 “Yes, I have!”
 “Giving her a warm Tootsie Roll that had been sitting in your pocket all day does not count as trying.”
 “But I gave it to her on Valentine’s Day!” Mingi whined. “That counts for something, right?”
 He reluctantly met Yunho’s eyes, groaning when he saw his friend’s lips pressed into a thin line and his head shaking. 
 “You’ve gotta just tell her, dude. You’re never gonna know if you don’t try.” 
 He knew Yunho was right. If he ever wanted anything to change, he’d have to talk to you. Otherwise, he’d spend his entire life wondering what would’ve happened if he would’ve just had the balls to tell you. 
 He’d do it today, he decided, when he met you at your usual spot to walk back to your dorms together. That way, he could just run home if you said you didn’t feel the same way! Perfect plan. 
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Mingi wiped his hands on his pants as he walked to your usual meeting spot, attempting to calm himself down and hype himself up at the same time. 
 He was really going to do it now; he was going to spill his heart out and hope that you somehow ended up in his arms. He’d start with how he’d loved you since you were kids when you took swim lessons with him at the community pool. You jumped right in the water when he was too afraid to duck his head underneath, and he remembered wanting to be brave like you. He loved you in middle school when you noticed him struggling with his math homework and offered to help. He loved you when you introduced him to Yunho, your friend from the student council who would end up becoming his best friend. And he loved you two years later, when he read your summer reading book aloud to you because staring at the pages made you sleepy. 
 He loved you last year when you went to prom together, even when you made a point of announcing to the rest of your group that the two of you were “Just really good friends.”
 Oh, well. He loved you when he gave you that Tootsie Roll three months ago, too.
 And he loved you now, when he approached you slowly and timidly, waving his hand to get you to look up from your phone.
 “Oh, hi,” you grinned, pulling the earbuds out of your ears.
 “Hi,” he smiled. 
 “How was… how was your day?” You asked the same question you always asked when you saw him, but it sounded different this time. It was like an exhale; Like you were breathing the words instead of speaking them. If he didn’t know better, he would’ve thought you were nervous. 
 “Good,” he nodded, gripping the straps of his backpack.
 “Good!” You repeated, clasping your hands together. “So…”
 He braced himself to say it. I’m in love with you. I have been ever since we were kids. I don’t want to be your friend, I want to kiss you.
 But you spoke first, and you said, “I think we should have sex.”
 He thought that he was having a stroke. He thought that you were having a stroke. “W-what did you say?”
 “Hear me out,” you waved your hands and closed your eyes. “We’re the last virgins in our friend group, right? And everyone thinks we’ve already fucked, anyway. So we could just do it together and get it over with so that it’s not as big of a deal when we do it with other people!”
 “I don’t…” His face felt like it was on fire. His stomach burned, and his palms were even sweatier than before. Get it over with?
 You sighed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have dumped that on you so fast. I’ve just been thinking about it for a few weeks now, and…”
 Your voice turned into a murmur in the back of his mind as he analyzed your words. Been thinking about it for weeks now? Thinking about…
 “But you don’t have to decide now, okay? I just wanted to see if you would be up for it.”
 He slowly blinked and nodded back like an idiot. “O-okay. Yeah, I’ll think about it.”
 You nudged his shoulder with yours as you stood up to walk home with him, down the streets of the campus that had been home to you for the past nine months. “And there’s no pressure, alright? You can say I’m gross and you see me like a sister and I won’t be mad,” you laughed.
 You’re beautiful. I want you to be my girlfriend.
 “I’ll think about it,” he repeated.
 “Cool,” you nodded. “How’d that stats test go?”
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You felt sick when you tried to go to sleep that night, nauseated with the thought that you might’ve just ruined everything. 
 You didn’t mean for it to come out so fast. You didn’t mean to make him embarrassed. You only meant to present the idea to him; a sort of business proposal that would benefit the both of you before you went back home for the summer.
 None of your friends were virgins anymore. Only you and Mingi were left, and you’d known each other the longest, anyway. 
 You turned in bed to stare at the pictures of the two of you taped to the collage on your wall. He stood next to you in a cheap rental tuxedo at prom, his mouth pulled into a gummy smile and his arm linked with yours. In another picture, he stood three inches away from you at your middle school graduation, a reminder of the awkward phase the two of you went through when you realized that he was a boy and you were a girl. 
 But there were pictures from before that time, too, like the one of the two of you covered in nasty, artificially-colored green frosting from the cake at Mingi’s Incredible Hulk-themed birthday party in 2005. Or the two of you dressed up as Cosmo and Wanda from Fairly Odd Parents for Halloween in fourth grade. 
 Your oldest friend. The person who’d seen you through every phase of your life – even your emo phase in seventh grade – and stuck by you nonetheless. 
 You thought of his full lips and his broad shoulders, his big hands. He was handsome, there was absolutely no arguing that, but he was also kind and gentle and sweet. He was always the first to notice when something was wrong and the last to believe you when you told him you were fine. 
 Being his lover would be amazing, but not if it meant you couldn’t be his friend anymore. You wouldn’t fall unless he asked you to because losing him wasn’t an option.
 You’d tell him tomorrow to forget it. That it was stupid, and you changed your mind. 
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Mingi told Yunho about it at lunch the next day. 
 “She talked to me yesterday,” he mumbled, picking the peel off of a clementine.
 “And? What’d she say?” Yunho leaned forward, anticipating Mingi’s answer.
 “She wants to fuck me.”
 Yunho let out a laugh of disbelief. “Don’t play with me right now.”
 “She does! She said, and I quote, ‘I think we should have sex.’”
 “Well,” Yunho chuffed, “There you go, buddy! I told you all you had to do was talk to her!”
 Mingi knew he didn’t really talk to you. He knew he just listened (well, half-listened, half daydreamed about what losing his virginity to you would be like) while you gabbed on about how it was a win-win situation.
 But Yunho seemed so happy… No, proud of him. His validation made Mingi feel good – like this was the right decision.
 “So, when are you going to do it?” Yunho squeezed a gluttonous amount of ketchup on his dry chicken patty.
 Mingi stared at his Ziploc bag of slightly brown apple slices. “Well… I haven’t really told her I’d do it yet.” 
 “What? Why not?”
 “I just didn’t know if it was right…”
 “The girl that you’ve been in love with since you were a kid wants to give you her virginity and take yours at the same time, and you don’t know if it’s right?”
 Mingi smiled. “Yeah… I know.”
 “Tell her today. I bet you’ll do it before you go home for the summer if you tell her today.”
 “Okay, yeah.” Mingi nodded, feeling more sure of himself. “I’ll tell her today.”
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You had headphones in when you waited for Mingi after school, but you weren’t listening to any music. There was already too much buzzing around in your head, and music would only overwhelm you even more.
 You chewed on your nailbeds and rehearsed your script in your head. Hey, I was way off base yesterday. That was weird and I shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that. Let’s just pretend it never happened and enjoy the summer, okay?
 You saw his sneakers first. They were clean, exactly how they looked when he bought them four months ago. 
 He was smiling when you looked up.
 “Let’s do it.”
 “Wait… really?” You tilted your head to the side, trying not to stare at his lips.
 “Yeah. You were right, it just makes sense for us to do it together.” His cheeks were pink.
 You slowly nodded, trying to convince yourself that it was a good idea again. “Right. Yeah… yeah, it makes sense.” You clapped your hands together. “Well! It’s settled then! Is Yunho leaving town anytime soon?”
 “I don’t… I don’t think so?” 
 You stood up to begin your walk home, and Mingi followed suit.
 “Well,” you sighed. “My roommates are probably home, but we should be fine if we’re quiet.”
 Mingi stumbled a bit as he walked. “Wait, we’re doing this right now? Like, literally right now?”
 “No!” you turned your head towards him as you spoke, but you didn’t look him in the eye. “But don’t you think we should do other stuff first? And like… work up to the big thing?”
 “Other stuff?”
 “Just to warm us up. You know, so it won’t be as scary when we…” You pictured Mingi naked and on top of you, his eyebrows furrowed and his pretty lips parted in a moan. You cleared your throat. “You know.”
 “O-okay,” he nodded. “Okay, yeah.”
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 Mingi sat on your bed with his hands tucked underneath his thighs to hide how badly they were shaking. He looked around the room, jealous of your full-size bed. He and Yunho were in a shared room dorm, and his feet always hung off the end of his twin mattress. 
 Meanwhile, you scrolled through your phone to find a good playlist. You hit shuffle on the first one that suited your taste and a familiar song tumbled out of your cheap Bluetooth speaker.
 “You’ve kissed someone before, right?” You put your phone on your desk and walked to your bed.
 “Yes,” he nodded. 
 You narrowed your eyes at him. “Who?”
 He squirmed, adjusting his hands under his thighs. “My lab partner in ninth grade. She felt me up under the bleachers.” I was thinking about you the whole time, his internal monologue chimed in, the words never making it past his lips.
 “Gross,” you laughed, sitting on your bed. “Just let me lead, okay? Try to mirror what I do.”
 You reached up to hold his jaw, and his entire body stiffened.
 “Hey.” You waved your hand in front of his face. “Don’t be nervous, Ming. It’s just me. We don’t have to do this if you don’t want t–”
 “I want to!” He interrupted. “Please. I really want to. I’m just nervous.”
 You rested both your hands on his shoulders. “It’s just me,” you repeated. “The same me that I’ve always been.”
 Yeah, he thought, that’s the problem.
 “Just follow my lead.” You gave him an encouraging smile, which he weakly returned. “It’ll be fun, okay?”
 Mingi nodded, closed his eyes, and held his breath. A few seconds later, he felt your lips against his, and they were even softer than he imagined. He was sure that his were chapped, and he regretted not wearing lip balm more often like his mom always told him to.
 “See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
 He opened his eyes at the sound of your voice and gave you a tiny shake of his head.
 “Do you want another one?” You smiled. 
 “Yes, please,” he whispered.
 You kissed him again, a little bit longer this time. Your lips naturally slotted with his, and butterflies filled his tummy when you rested your hand on his thigh.
 And then your lips parted. He wasn’t sure what to do other than follow your lead like you’d told him to, so he let his lips part, as well.
 His breath caught in his throat when your hand slid down to his neck. He barely had time to recover before you slipped your tongue in his mouth, playful and teasing and light. 
 “O-oh,” he breathed, a shiver running through his body.
 “How was that?” 
 “Good. I liked… I liked the part when you used your tongue.”
 “Shut up,” you laughed. “You wanna… keep going?”
 “Yes,” he nodded.
 And that was how Mingi had his first makeout session with his childhood best friend. He tried to keep his whimpers to a minimum, but it was hard to when your kisses progressively got more heated. Your tongue in his mouth was unlike anything he’d ever felt before, and he blushed at your giggle when he tried to mirror your movements.
 “Such a fast learner, Ming.”
 “T-thanks…”
 “You know you can touch me, right? You don’t have to sit on your hands.”
 He looked down, completely unaware that his hands were still tucked underneath his thighs. They were both numb now, and they tingled when he pulled them up. He flexed and relaxed them to get his blood flowing again.
 “I’ve never…” he whispered, “I’m sorry. I don’t- I don’t know where to touch.”
 You gave him a smile laced with what might have been pity and took his big hand in yours, moving it to rest on your hip.
 “What about the other one?” He whispered, even quieter than before.
 And then you were lifting his other hand and placing it on your cheek. His breath caught in his throat again.
 It’s strange to truly look at someone whose face has always been a constant in your life. You looked different, but also the same. People change, but they don’t. 
 Mingi was sure of one thing: your face was the most beautiful he’d ever seen. He liked it ten years ago, and he liked it now.
 He kissed you first the next time. And since he’d gotten a little more confident, he let his lips part and used his tongue first, too. He kept his hands where you’d placed them and you kept yours around his neck. You kissed and kissed and kissed, and for now, that was enough.
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It didn’t stay enough for long. You and Mingi practically ran to your dorm after school every day, barely taking time to breathe before attaching your mouths together once your door was shut. Your obsession with Mingi’s lips had only grown since you started spending most of your free time kissing them.
 His hands were nice, too. They’d gotten a little bit more curious since that day, sometimes giving your hip a gentle squeeze or moving up to your waist while he kissed you. Any noise you’d make would immediately be met with a “sorry” – a constant reminder that no matter how attractive the boy you were making out with was, he was still just the same old Mingi.
 And the little reactions he’d make were precious. He’d gasp when you touched his thighs, he’d hum when you stroked his neck, he’d whimper when you took his plump bottom lip between your teeth. The more you worked him up, the luckier you felt to have been the only person to have ever seen him like this. 
 You wondered how that could be while you sucked his lips. Plenty of girls had crushed on Mingi over the years. You knew because they’d always ask you if you were his girlfriend before they tried to confess to him. No matter how many times you told them you weren’t, he never ended up dating any of them.
 You detached from his lips with a smack. “Mingi?”
 “Mm?” He blinked, eyes slightly glazed over and lips swollen from kisses.
 “Why haven’t you had a girlfriend before?”
 His eyes widened for a split second, and he tried to cover it up by blinking a few times. “Uh… just never met the right person, I guess.”
 “But girls have been throwing themselves at you for years… You didn’t ever want to try anything with them?”
 “Guess I just wanted to wait for someone that I really…” he swallowed. “Trust.”
 That made sense. The thought of doing all of these things with a stranger was horrifying, but you felt safe with Mingi. You smiled, kissing the corner of his mouth.
  “I trust you too, Ming. Wanna try something new?”
 “O-okay, yeah.”
 You tapped his shoulder twice. “Lay down.”
 Like a puppy who’d just been given a command, he lowered himself against your pillows, swinging his legs up so he was laying on the bed. You swung a leg over his hips to straddle them, and his eyes immediately widened. 
 You’d never really taken time to admire how pretty Mingi was. His chest, which was more toned than you’d realized, was swelling and deflating as he attempted to stabilize his breathing. His Adam’s apple dipped as he swallowed, and you’d be stupid to not notice the way his thick thighs tensed and relaxed underneath his black jeans. 
 And then you leaned down, hovering over him to study his face. You ran your thumb over his sharp jaw as you took in his other features; The same darkness in his eyes that wasn’t mysterious, but warm and inviting. The straight line of his nose, the pointed tip of it. The birthmark under his eye, the one on his cheek, the acne scars that dotted his cheeks like stars. Those fucking lips.
 Mingi was really fucking cute. Had he always been?
 You kissed him again, smiling when a little whimper escaped his lips. 
 “Cute,” you mumbled, unaware that the word had left your mouth until it was too late.
 Or maybe it was a good thing that you said it. Mingi’s response was enough to make you think that, at least. He moaned again, louder this time, as he pushed his hips forward against yours. 
 Mingi always got hard during your makeout sessions, but you always pretended not to notice to spare him from any embarrassment. However, pretending not to notice was incredibly difficult with his bulge grinding against your heat.
 He moaned at the stimulation, but quickly interrupted himself. “Ooh-sorry! I’m so sorry, that wasn’t on purpo–”
 You clapped a hand over his mouth. “I told you we have to be quiet.”
 He nodded, eyes wide as your hand stayed pressed to his mouth. You slid it down to rest on his chest when you whispered in his ear. “Don’t be sorry. That’s what I wanted to try.”
 You pushed and pulled your hips against his erection again in one experimental thrust, grinning when his eyes screwed shut and his lips pressed together. You cupped his face to guide his lips to yours again.
 It was as uncoordinated as two virgins could be. Though your lips easily moved together from a week of practice, neither of your hips were skilled enough to set any sort of rhythm. You just desperately grabbed at each other, groping and humping and kissing like your lives depended on it. 
 Soon, you could feel your soaking panties uncomfortably sticking to your core. The fabric gave you the tiniest bit of stimulation, dragging against your clit and ever-so-slightly teasing you. And the boy underneath you was driving you insane, with his messy kisses and his tiny groans. 
 You didn’t know what the end goal was, but you knew that it felt better when you grinded your hips faster, so that’s what you did. 
 “Ah-” You silenced Mingi’s moan by pressing your mouth to his again, sighing as he hummed against your lips.
 And then he whimpered your name. He’d said your name a thousand times before, but he’d never said it like this. Like it was a cry for help, a desperate plea for something. The sound fueled the fire of your desperation as you continued moving your hips, hoping to God that he’d say it again.
 And he did. You attached your lips to his neck and he whined your name once more, followed by a tiny breath of, “O-oh, god…”
 His little sounds were getting better and better. Your name slipped past his lips between breathy whimpers and choked hums, and you kept licking and sucking his neck while you grinded your clothed, soaking pussy against his painfully hard, just as clothed dick.
 Finally, you took pity on the poor thing. His moans were getting increasingly desperate, and you could tell that he was doing everything in his power to keep them quiet. You hovered your lips directly over his ear.
 “What’s wrong, baby?”
 “A-ah-mph!” He squeezed his eyes shut as he writhed on the bed, pressing his hand to his mouth to keep his pathetic noises in. His whole body was shaking when you sat up.
 A wet patch on the crotch of his jeans made the dark fabric even darker, and a horrified expression washed over his face as your eyes immediately landed on it. If he would’ve looked between your legs, he would’ve noticed that your shorts were just as soaked, but he didn’t. He only saw your dumbfounded expression as you tried to figure out what you were supposed to say. All that came out was, “D-did you just…?”
 You just made a boy cum. From kissing. This had to have been the best day of your life. 
 “I’m sorry,” he breathed, pushing you off of him. He immediately stood up, locating his jacket on your desk and holding it in front of his pants as he slid his bag over his shoulder. “I’m… I’m sorry.” He looked down the whole time, never letting his eyes meet yours as he slipped his way out of your bedroom door. 
 “Mingi!” you called two seconds too late. “You’re not going to–” 
 You sighed, letting your voice get quiet. “Help me?”
 He didn’t come back, leaving you with soaking panties and an unsatiated pulsing between your legs that wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. 
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You texted him the next morning.
 It’s not a big deal, Ming. Do you want to come over?
 He didn’t respond. You went the whole weekend without hearing from him, and even when you waited for him at your usual spot on Monday, he didn’t show. You sent him another text. 
 Stop being stupid. I miss you.
 He didn’t respond to that, either. By Tuesday, you were so anxious to see him that you waited outside his lecture hall after his morning class, scanning the crowd of faces for him. He wasn’t difficult to find; his tall frame easily distinguished him from the rest of the crowd, even with his shoulders slouched. He made eye contact with you and immediately put his head down, walking faster. 
 “Mingi!” You yelled, weaving through the crowd to follow him. 
 His pace quickened, his long legs carrying him out of the brick building and through the grassy common area, skillfully dodging flying frisbees and strategically-hung Enos. 
 “Mingi! This…” you panted. “This isn’t fair! Your legs are longer than mine!”
 He flinched with each call of his name, but he didn’t turn around. He didn’t slow down. You picked up your pace to a jog, huffing as you tried to catch up to him. “MINGI! Stop fucking ignoring me!”
 After quickening your steps to a borderline sprint, you finally got close enough to grab the handle of his backpack, yanking him backwards and causing both of you to collapse on the lawn in the process. 
 “Ow…” he whined, rubbing his butt and attempting to brush grass off of it.
 “You…” you breathed. “You fucking suck. Why aren’t you talking to me?”
 “W-What do you want me to say? What the hell am I supposed to say after humiliating myself like that?”
 “I told you it wasn’t a big deal, stupid! I wanted to make you feel good!”
 His ears burned as he looked at you with wide eyes, a mixture of embarrassment and shock painting his face. 
 “And you… you didn’t even stay and help me. I was more turned on than I’ve ever been in my life, and you just got up and left! Right after I helped you finish! Who the fuck does that?”
 “I…” he breathed, trying not to pass out. He made you more turned on than you’d ever been in your life? “I didn’t think you wanted me to…”
 “You didn’t think I wanted to feel good, too?”
 “No!” he stammered, “No, I just… I didn’t think, I mean, I thought you would think I was gross.”
 You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Mingi, the entire point of having sex is to feel good. I didn’t think you were gross, I was jealous of you.”
 And see, that was where he fundamentally disagreed with you. As far as Mingi was concerned, the entire point of having sex was to be intimate with someone you love. Feeling good was just a bonus. 
 He loved you so fucking much. Knowing that you didn’t feel the same way about him made his chest physically ache, but he knew that you needed him, and that was more than he could have hoped for. If you didn’t love him, at least you could love the way he made you feel. 
 “I’ll make it up to you next time,” he assured you. “I promise I’m gonna make you feel good.”
 Your smile reappeared, and he felt like he’d been hit by a train.
 “Yeah,” you laughed, punching his shoulder. “You better. Wanna try that new boba place?”
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The boba was mid, but it was nice to just be in Mingi’s presence again. He crumpled his straw wrapper as he told you about his weekend, how his mom’s birthday was coming up, and how things were getting more serious between Yunho and his girlfriend. 
 You liked the sound of his voice. You remembered when it used to crack all the time in middle school, but it had since balanced out into a smooth baritone, cascading your ears in warmth. 
 “Are you listening to me?”
 “What? Yes.” 
 “No, you’re not,” he scoffed. ”You’ve been staring at my lips for the past five minutes.” 
 “Yeah, because you have foam on them.”
 He immediately wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his ears flushing a bright red as he mumbled a disingenuous “fuck you.”
 The foam was only a scapegoat. You both knew how much you loved his lips. 
 “Speaking of fuck you…” You shifted in your metal chair. “When… when are we going to… you know…”
 “What?”
 “You know…” You looked to the side, your eyes widening. 
 His heartrate doubled. “Oh. Um… I don’t know. Was there… did you have a specific time in mind?”
 “Sorry, didn’t realize I needed to make an appointment,” you laughed. “I don’t know. I just… I want to. Soon.”
 He remembered your words. Get it over with. 
 “Okay,” he nodded. “We can. Soon.”
 You picked up his hand that was resting on the table to play with his fingers, pinching them between your smaller ones while you chewed on a ball of sweet tapioca. 
 He swallowed and watched you, his eyes glazing over. I love you, I love you, I love you.
 Your stomach dropped a bit when you met his starry eyes. You didn’t know why.
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Two days later and you had Mingi underneath you again, his hands gripping your waist while you sucked on those perfect lips. 
 “Gonna make you feel good this time…” he whispered, trying to catch his breath between your feverish kisses. “Promise.”
 You just rested your hand on the back of his neck and sighed.
 “Can I… Is it okay if I take your shirt off?” He asked, his face a deep shade of red. 
 “Yeah,” you breathed. “It’s okay.”
 But he didn’t move, so you tugged on the hem of your shirt and lifted it off yourself. His breath caught in his throat when he saw your half-naked torso, covered by nothing but a slightly too tight purple bra that you got on clearance a few years ago.
 He shakily brushed a fingertip over the little bow in the center of it.
 Your face felt so hot you were sure water would boil if someone rested a pot on your cheek.
 “Can you… take your shirt off, too? This feels weird.” You covered your torso with your arms.
 “O-oh, yeah,” he nodded. “I’m sorry. Yeah.”
 You scooted back so that he could sit up, his trembling hands lifting his shirt over his head.
 His chest was flushed red. That was the first thing you noticed. And his belly was lean, but also soft and smooth, puffing and deflating with his shallow breath. 
 You rested a hand on his chest to feel his heartbeat. He just watched you.
 “We’re not kids anymore…” you whispered. There was a sad tone to your words, almost as if you were grieving.
 “No,” Mingi shook his head, his voice barely audible. “We’re not.”
 It was a beautifully horrifying realization. The kid you used to make mud soup with was a man now, and he was touching you like you’d never been touched before.
 You kissed him then. To comfort him, to comfort yourself, to be closer to the person who already knew you better than anyone in the universe.
 You unclasped your bra and just let it loosely rest on top of your chest.
 “Hey,” Mingi whispered, “Just me, remember?”
 Right. Just Mingi. 
 You tossed your bra to the side, instinctively covering your boobs with your hands.
 “Please…” Mingi placed his hands over yours. “I want to see you.”
 He sighed when you removed your hands, just as slowly.
 “Pretty…” he mumbled. “Is it okay if I touch you?”
 You nodded and he ran his hands over the lines on your sides where your bra had been digging into your skin. You cursed yourself for not buying a new one before this. Maybe he’d like one of those silk push-up bras you always saw your friends wearing, or perhaps one of those flimsy lace bralettes that you saw in the windows at Victoria’s Secret last week.
 “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, and the insecurity in your stomach almost vanished completely. Almost. 
 He leaned forward, cupping one of your tits in his huge hand and gently kissing the other. You gasped when you felt his wet tongue drag across your nipple, and he looked up at you for reassurance while you laced your fingers through his hair. 
 “Does that feel good?”
 “Yes,” you breathed. “Y-yeah, that feels good….”
 He gently latched his mouth to your nipple, sucking and then running his soft tongue over the flesh to soothe it. You didn’t mean to, but you arched your back, and his free hand found a place in the dip of your waist.
 You subconsciously tugged on his hair as he sucked your other nipple. He worshipped your tits, kissing, sucking, and licking them while you quietly moaned, grinding against his erection. You wanted to let him continue all night, but soon,  the pulsing between your thighs started to become unbearable. 
 “Ming… need you to fuck me,” you whispered. “Please.”
 He pulled back a bit, his plump lips glossy and his adam’s apple dipping as he swallowed.
 “Okay.”
 He didn’t move and you didn’t, either. You just looked at each other, breathing heavy though you’d hardly done anything yet.
 “... Nobody’s ever seen me naked before,” he said under his breath.
 You shook your head. “Me neither.”
 He kissed you again, but it was really just so that you wouldn’t watch him while he took his pants off. And you weren’t sure what you were doing, you weren’t sure why, but once both of your pants were off, you reached a hand down and felt him through the thin fabric of his boxers.
 He took in a sharp inhale. 
 “I’m sorry,” you said, “Is this okay?”
 And then you felt a large hand between your thighs, softly rubbing you through your panties.
 It felt so much different from when you did it to yourself. More pleasurable, sure, but also more vulnerable. More intense.
 Neither of you knew what to say. You felt how hard he was against your hand. He felt the little wet patch soaking through your panties. You both needed this desperately, and yet for a few moments, nobody moved. 
 “Y-you can take them off of me.” Your voice was barely above a whisper and it cracked in the middle, but you were proud of yourself for getting the words out. 
 His hands shook when he slid them down your thighs. Before he could stare for too long, you slid your fingers under the waistband of his boxers and pushed them down. 
 You weren’t sure if he was big or not. You’d never seen a penis in real life before, only in porn, and he looked about the same size as what you’d seen in porn. Did that mean he was big?
 He looked down, and you realized you were staring. “Sorry,” you stammered, forcing yourself to look him in the eye again. 
 “N-no, it’s okay. Is it… I mean, do you like it?”
 Your face broke into a smile. Mingi, Mingi, Mingi. “Yes, it’s  lovely, Ming. Stop stressing.”
 You reached for a condom on your nightstand, closely inspecting the foil packet for instructions. 
 “I think I can do it,” he mumbled, gently taking the condom out of your hand.
 “You know how to?”
 “I think so.”
 After a few minutes of him fumbling with the latex, his lips were on yours again and you could feel his dick resting on your thigh. 
 “Are you ready?” He pulled back for a moment to look you in the eye.
 “M-mhm,” you nodded.
 He kissed your cheek and held his dick in his hand, aligning himself. A painful stretching sensation flooded your lower half as his thick tip poked at your entrance. 
 He inhaled shakily. “C-can I… can I push it in now?”
 You nodded. “I… think so? Y-yeah… go ahead…”
 He pushed his hips forward, and the sensation intensified when you felt his tip enter you with a pop. The pain was excruciating, unlike anything you’d ever felt before. A horrid stretch, almost like a burn, splitting you open in the worst way. Tears pricked into your eyes.
 “OW! Ow, ow, ow, stop, stop, stop!” You pushed his broad shoulders away, whimpering when he frantically pulled out. That hurt, too.
 “O-oh my god, are you okay? What did I- D-did I do something wrong?”
 You looked down at his dick, which was still fully hard. He was big, you supposed. Really big. With his cock resting on your stomach, it went all the way up to your belly button. You felt stupid for thinking you could take him without any prep.
 And you also felt embarrassed. This wasn’t how your first time was supposed to go. This didn’t happen in porn. You were supposed to be screaming his name, he was supposed to be groaning yours and pounding you into the mattress. You were supposed to be making him feel good, and he was supposed to be doing the same for you. A lump formed in your throat and you attempted to blink the tears out of your eyes, which probably just made them more teary. 
 “No,” you breathed. “I think… I don’t think I’m wet enough.”
 He frowned. “Did we not kiss for long enough?”
 “No, no, we did.” Guilt crept into your chest. You knew this wasn’t how he pictured his first time going, either. 
 His frown intensified as a pained look washed over his face. “Are you not… is it because you’re not attracted to me?”
 “Stop it, Mingi. It’s not for any reason. You didn’t do anything wrong. Let’s just… we can get lube from the store and try again tomorrow, okay? I can jerk you off to help you finish if you want.”
 His heart ached. He didn’t want you to ‘help him finish.’ He wanted to make love to you, soft and tender and slow. He wanted to hold your face and kiss your forehead and tell you how much you meant to him.
 But his dick was painfully hard, and there aren’t many times that the love of your life offers to help you finish even though they don’t feel the same way about you, so he said, “Yes, please.”
 You wrapped your fingers around his erection, biting your cheek to stop yourself from crying. He bit his lip to do the same.
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Mingi couldn’t make eye contact with the cashier when he bought lube from the drug store the next day. His hands shook as he put his card into the reader, and they kept shaking while he entered his pin number. The machine dinged and he yanked his card out, snatching the plastic bag from the cashier before they had time to offer him a receipt. His face burned the entire walk to your dorm and didn’t stop burning once he got there.
 His breath caught in his throat when you opened the door. “I got the…” he held the plastic bag up. “I got the stuff.”
 You laughed and stepped back to let him inside. “You make it sound like we’re about to do drugs.”
 Yeah, something like that.
 Mingi didn’t say anything when you sat him on your bed and straddled his hips. He whimpered a little bit when you pressed your lips to his, and you assumed that it was just because he was horny. 
 You held the side of his neck and worked your tongue against his, rolling your hips forward to grind against his growing bulge. He whimpered again, and you moved your face down to suck on his neck. 
 “I think you need to finger me first,” you whispered in his ear.
 “W-what?” He blinked up at you for a moment, his eyes wide and starry before he shyly looked away. “I’ve never… I mean… I don’t know how to do that.”
 “It can’t be that hard, right? You just take your fingers and, like… put them in me.”
 “I think it’s a little more complicated than that.”
 “Well… I’ll just tell you what feels good, okay? I do it to myself all the time.”
 His eyes snapped up again as he imagined you touching yourself. He’d thought about it before, late at night when he was jerking off, but hearing you say it out loud made him feel dizzy. Flames erupted across his cheeks again, and his body tensed.
 Your face burned with the realization of your confession. “Stop picturing it.”
 “S-sorry.”
 “I just need your fingers first, okay? I can’t… I can’t take your dick without some prep first.”
 It was like you wanted him to cum in his pants again. He nodded and reached for the plastic bag, fishing out the lube and taking it out of its little purple box. 
 “I’m sorry about yesterday, by the way.” His voice was quiet.
 “There’s nothing to be sorry about. That’s why we’re doing this together, you know? Because we feel safe around each other.”
 He nodded.
 “But for the record…” You lowered your head, still embarrassed about how yesterday went. “I’m sorry, too.”
 “There’s nothing to be sorry about.” He smiled.
 You kissed him, and you were so glad that you were kissing him. 
 “I’m really going to need you to walk me through this because I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing.” His cheeks were a splotchy red. 
 You laughed. “I promise it sounds scarier than it actually is.” You pulled your shirt over your head, embarrassed again when you realized you were wearing the same purple bra that you wore yesterday.
 “Shit,” you breathed. “I meant to wear something nicer for you today. Sorry.”
 For me? Mingi thought. For me? 
 But he said, “I like this one. It’s cute.” And he touched the little bow again.
 “Thanks.” You climbed off of his lap to take your shorts off. “Lift your arms.”
 He obeyed, and you lifted his shirt over his head. It didn’t need to be off yet, you supposed, but you’d been dreaming about Mingi’s lean abdomen all day and you didn’t want to wait another second to have it under your fingertips again. 
 You laid down on the bed and slid your panties off, but didn’t spread your legs yet. You felt vulnerable again, especially considering that Mingi still had his pants on. 
 “C-can you–” you started.
 “Yeah,” Mingi nodded, already unbuttoning his pants. When they were off, he sat back down and gently brushed his fingertips over your thigh. 
 “Okay,” he breathed. “Tell me what to do.”
 “Just… just kiss me for a second.” The truth was, you weren’t even really sure how to give him instructions, and you wanted to buy yourself some time. You usually just felt around until something felt good, and you weren’t sure how to explain that to him.
 He kissed you. You decided that even if he was always too big for you, even if you couldn’t ever take his full length, you’d probably be just as happy kissing him and jerking him off like you did last night.
 You felt his hand on your inner thigh and you liked the feeling. 
 “Okay, so…” you inhaled deeply. “Just start with one. And you can just kinda… feel around? I’ll tell you what feels good.”
 “Okay,” he nodded, taking a deep breath, too. “Okay.”
 He dripped some of the lube onto his fingers, rubbing it with his thumb in an attempt to warm it up. Your body tensed as you felt his finger slide between your folds, shaking slightly as he rubbed you up and down.
 He seemed to stop breathing for a moment. His eyes just raked over your body, all wide and starry while he clumsily touched you. 
 “You’re gorgeous,” he breathed. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
 “M-Mingi, Ah-” You let out a tiny yelp when his fingertip brushed your clit.
 “Did I hurt you?” He immediately stopped, taking his fingers away. 
 “N-no, that felt good… really good…” You nodded. 
 He tried to find the spot again, clumsily drawing circles around it.
 “S-so good. Yeah, r-right there,” you sighed.
 His fingertip slipped a little too far to the left. 
 “N-no, back where it was.”
 After a few seconds of “Here?” and “No, here,” back and forth, he found the spot again and gently traced it. 
 Your eyes rolled back and closed as your body twitched, trying to get used to the sensation of being touched by another person. 
 Then his fingers slid further down, but it was intentional this time. 
 Mingi looked you in the eye and didn’t say anything as he gently circled his fingertip around your opening, coating it in lube and spreading your arousal at the same time. 
 You didn’t say anything, either. You couldn’t if you tried. But he understood your tiny nod and the look of desperation in your eyes, so he gently pushed his finger inside. 
 His long, thick finger went deeper than your own ever had, but it didn’t hurt. “O-ohh,” you breathed, shivering.
 Mingi was at a loss for words. Your pussy was hugging his finger so tight and you felt so warm and the tiny noises that you were making were about to send him over the edge. “Fuck…” he sharply inhaled through his teeth, staring up at the ceiling for a minute so that he didn’t cum untouched.
 “M-Mingi,” you breathed, “Go like this.” And then you held a finger up and curved it inward, and he immediately obeyed.
 Your back arched to a borderline uncomfortable degree as you let out a pathetic little noise, and Mingi seriously was on the edge of an orgasm already.
 “I-is that a sensitive spot?”
 “Do it again,” you commanded. “Mingi, do that again.”
 He did, and then he did it a few more times, pumping his finger and setting a rhythm. You were probably being a little too squirmy, but you couldn’t help it. Nothing had ever felt like this before. 
 “Fuck,” you breathed. “Add another one.”
 Mingi meant to ask ‘Are you sure?’ but his head was so fuzzy with arousal that he just obeyed, pushing his middle finger in next to his pointer finger.
 “S-shit,” you gasped, sitting up and holding his wrist. “Hold on a sec– fuck.”
 “Are you okay?”
 “It feels good,” you nodded. “Just forgot how thick these are.”
 He understood. He could almost feel you stretching out, and he suddenly felt horribly guilty for not offering to do this before he attempted to put his dick inside of you yesterday.
 “You’re doing amazing,” he encouraged you, nodding slightly. “J-just let me know when you want more, okay?”
 “C-can you…” You blushed, too shy to complete your sentence. 
 He knit his eyebrows at you, giving you an encouraging nod. He felt your pussy tighten around his fingers, and he tried not to groan.
 “What do you need, baby?” He soothed, “Just tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you.”
 Your face burned. Mingi had never been more attractive to you, with his lips swollen and his cheeks flaming and his fingers deep inside of you. He was gently thrusting his fingers, massaging your g-spot, tracing your opening, and stretching you out all in a fluid motion.
 “C-can you play with my clit again while you do that?” You whispered. 
 He nodded immediately, smiling and circling his thumb around your pebbled clit. 
 “O-ohh…” you moaned, burying your face in his neck. “Oh my god…”
 He swallowed roughly. “G-good…” He encouraged as he felt you slowly relax around his fingers.
 Your back arched, tiny little whimpers escaping you as Mingi made love to you with his hand. 
 And he was barely holding it together. He could feel the tip of his dick sticking to his boxers, precum smearing against the fabric and providing his cockhead with the tiniest bit of friction every time he moved his hips. 
 “Do you want one more? Or are you good with two?” His voice was hoarse. 
 “I d-on’t—“ You inhaled sharply, eyes closing as you felt the tiny spark of an orgasm in your core. “D-don’t think I can take a third…”
 Mingi nodded, and then he kissed your forehead. He wanted to speak, but he was putting all of his effort into keeping up a steady rhythm with his hand and not coming in his pants while your tensed thigh rubbed his dick. 
 And then it was silent for a few moments, except for the quiet squelching coming from between your legs every few seconds. 
 “I think I’m gonna cum.” You whispered, keeping your eyes closed. Focusing on that feeling, chasing it.
 Mingi swallowed, his breath catching. “Mm.” He hummed. He couldn’t think of anything else to say. 
 Your breath caught in your throat, the rest of it escaping in a choked whimper. “F-faster…” You breathed, looking up at him with pleading eyes. “Please.”
 He nodded, quickening his movements. You leaned up, catching his lips in a messy kiss as you got closer and closer.
 You were quieter than you thought you’d be. As your orgasm approached, you hardly made any noise at all, save for a few little gasps. 
 Your mouth dropped open and you pressed your forehead to your lover’s, letting out one single moan as your orgasm clenched down on his fingers. It ran through your body in waves, your muscles tensing and releasing rhythmically.
 “My god…” Mingi groaned, continuing his movements. “G-Good job, baby.”
 You squeaked, gently pushing his hand away as you neared overstimulation. His brows furrowed as he worried that he’d hurt you, but you immediately eased his anxiety by holding the back of his neck and pressing your lips to his again.
 “Felt so good…” You mumbled through kisses. “T-think I’m ready now…”
 His heart fluttered as he felt your hand between his legs, stroking his sensitive thighs. And then he looked at you in a way that a boy had never looked at you before, with big, dark, sparkling, pleading eyes. Like he needed you.
 So gently, like you were afraid he’d break, you slipped his dick out of his blue plaid boxers. He was so hard, so sticky and pulsing that you were sure he must have been in pain. “Thank you for making me feel good,” you whispered. “I know it must have been hard to wait…”
 He shook his head, closing his eyes. “Don’t thank me.” He let out a tiny noise as you stroked him once. “I loved it,” he breathed. “I loved doing that for you.”
 You smiled, kissing him again. “Take these off,” you pleaded, tugging at the waistband of his boxers. 
 Mingi pushed them down, kicking them off the bed at his feet. And then he was fully naked, hovering above you, also fully naked. It should have been scary, but you’d never felt more safe. You reached your arms behind him, stroking his back before sliding your hands down to teasingly squeeze his ass.
 He let out a choked noise and you laughed. “Sorry, I’ve always wanted to do that. You have a really nice ass.”
 He shook his head, laughing and kissing you again.
 “You’re really beautiful, Mingi.” You whispered, feeling another pang in your core as he groaned at the praise. 
 He reached a hand up, squeezing your breast as he kissed you and kissed you and kissed you. His heavy cock rested on your belly, clear precum sticking to your soft skin. 
 You reached for the condom on the nightstand, carefully ripping it open. His eyes didn’t leave your face as you gently rolled it onto him, your small hand wrapping around his girth. You slid his tip between your folds, then coated it in even more lube. You knew it might still hurt a little bit, but you felt much more prepared for it this time. 
 “The second it starts to hurt,” he whispered, his voice raspy. “You tell me.”
 You nodded. The two of you looked into each other’s eyes, and didn’t look away when his tip was aligned with your entrance. 
 But his eyes fluttered shut a bit when he slipped inside. He couldn’t help it.
 Your gasp made him open his eyes again. “Are you okay?”
 “Mmh–” You nodded, your voice high pitched and squeaky. He pushed forward, filling you, stretching you, making you his.
 “Mingi…” You whined, tears blurring your vision. “S-so big…”
 He kissed away the first tear that fell. “I know, I’m sorry,” he whispered, “Y-You’re doing so well.”
 He stilled for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his length. 
 “Is it…” You looked up at him with teary eyes. “Is it all the way in yet?”
 “Not yet.” His eyes were full of empathy and adoration. “Can you take any more? It’s okay if you can’t.”
 You whimpered. “S’big, Mingi.”
 “I know, baby, I know it’s big. Does it feel good? D-Does it hurt?”
 “It feels…” you trailed off. “It feels good but it hurts. I dunno if I can take any more.”
 “That’s okay,” he nodded, kissing your forehead. “You feel s-so good just like this.”
 “R-really?”
 “Yes,” he nodded. “You feel amazing. So… so fucking good.” He gritted his teeth as he spoke, shaking and sweating and forcing himself to not instinctively start fucking you hard and fast. “Can I move a little bit now?”
 “Yes,” you nodded. “Slow, please.”
 He pulled back so that only the very end of his tip was dipped into your opening, then shakily pushed forward in a single stroke, a little over three quarters of the way inside. 
 Tears stung his and your eyes. You felt better than anything he’d ever felt before, and the stretching sensation was starting to feel more pleasant than painful. 
 “I’m so…” he whimpered. “I’m so proud of you. You’re taking me so well.”
 “Mingi…” you whined in response, clawing at his back. “F-feels good.”
 “Yeah?” His eyes met yours. “It feels good?”
 “Mmm. I want… want you to fuck me. B-but slow, okay?”
 He visibly shivered, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up as his whole body became covered in goosebumps. 
 “T-tell me if it’s too much.”
 He attempted to set a pace then, slowly pushing and pulling his hips to halfway-fuck you as gently as he possibly could. Little moans slipped from your lips in time with his thrusts.
 “Ungh…” he whimpered, “God. F-feels so good. You’re so…” his eyebrows furrowed. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”
 “Mingi…” You rested your hand on his cheek. “Kiss.”
 He didn’t need to be told twice. His perfectly full lips gently kissed yours, softly massaging his tongue into your mouth while he slowly pumped his cock in and out of you. You were embarrassed that you couldn’t take his whole length yet, but you decided in that moment that this wouldn’t be the last time you did this with him, and you had all the time in the world to train for the entirety of him. 
 “Fuck…” he repeated, resting his forehead against yours. “I’m… I’m close. I’m sorry.”
 “You are?” Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked up at him, a moan slipping from your lips when his thrusts got a bit faster. 
 That was fast, you thought, but it was his first time, you supposed. You hoped he had good stamina, because you didn’t want this night to be anywhere close to over.
 “I c-can’t…” His hips were starting to shake a bit. “God, you feel so good. Squeezing me so tight.”
 “Ming…” you whispered, holding his face. “I wanna make you cum. Want you to cum for me.”
 “Oh, fuck…” he whimpered. “God, f-fuck-“
 His voice cracked as his eyes squeezed shut, his belly tensing and his lips dropping open in a silent moan. 
 And for a few seconds, time didn’t exist. There was only him and you and your bodies, like this was how you were always meant to be. You felt his big hand on your waist and his thick length stretching you out, but you also felt that same comforting atmosphere that always followed him around. You saw his face, the one that you knew so well, contorted in pleasure, and you heard his familiar voice making unfamiliar noises. And there was no one in the world you’d rather do this with. There was no one else you wanted to kiss. 
 “I love you.”
 He cried out as he came, curling in on himself and burying his face in your neck as he pulled out so just his tip was inside, pumping the condom full of his load. 
 He pulled out and rested his cock on your belly, huffing in your neck as he caught his breath. 
 You stroked his hair and swallowed, a lump forming in your throat. 
 You said it. You told him out loud and you’d never be able to take it back. 
 He just kept breathing down your neck, sweaty and shaking and wondering if he heard you right. 
 “I– I tried not to…” you breathed. “I tried so hard not to fall in love with you. You’re my best friend and you mean more to me than anyone else. But I just…” 
 You swallowed. There was really no going back now. 
 “I see you smiling and it hits me like a steamroller. Like my chest is knocked in and I can’t breathe. It feels… It feels like I’m suffocating and I don’t know how to stop it or make it go away.”  
 You felt his large hand hold your jaw, and his lips were on yours. 
 “Please… be my girlfriend,” he mumbled, breathless between kisses.
 You pulled back to look in his eyes. “What?”
 “I’ve been in love with you since we were kids. Please, please, please be my girlfriend.”
 Your face broke a little bit. “You have?”
 He nodded, and then his face broke, too. “Please say yes.” He held your face, looking deep into your eyes. “P-please, baby.”
 “Obviously yes,” you smiled, tears so close to spilling from your eyes. “Dummy.”
 “I love you,” he cried, kissing you again. “I love you so fucking much.”
 “Mingi,” you breathed, for no reason other than to say his name. 
 He kissed you and cried and you kissed him and cried, and he suddenly remembered what Yunho said. A nice way to show her I really care. 
 He kissed down your neck, across your chest, on your nipples, over your belly, until his shoulders were between your thighs.
 “W-what are you doing?” You asked, looking down at him a little too innocently.
 “I don’t really know,” he sighed, leaning forward and kissing your dewy pussy.
 “A-ah! Mingi!” Your legs instinctively closed around his head, and his big hands gently pried them open again. 
 “It’s okay…” he breathed, leaning forward again. “I’ve got you, baby. I’m not gonna hurt you.” He sweetly kissed your inner thigh before spreading you with his tongue.
 You whimpered and squirmed, grabbing a fistful of his soft dark hair. 
 “You sound so pretty,” he mumbled, kissing your clit, “And you taste so good…”
 His thick, plump lips worked with his velvet tongue to worship your pussy. And it was loud, the room filled with wet sounds and Mingi’s groans, along with the pathetic little moans you were letting out. 
 You looked down at him. His ears and cheeks were dark red, his eyes closed, the sharp tip of his nose shiny and wet. 
 “T-that feels really good, Ming—“ You were interrupted by your own gasp as his tongue slipped into your entrance. 
 “You’re mine now…” His deep voice sounded gravelly and thick. “You’re all fucking mine…”
 “Mingi…” You whimpered, lacing your fingers through his hair as his lips sweetly sucked your clit. How did you learn how to do this? You wanted to ask. 
 But he was moaning against you again before the thought could finish. “I’m gonna do this every fuckin’ day…” He blinked slowly, a string of drool connecting his lips and your pussy. He used his broad shoulders to push your legs open even wider, taking a deep breath before diving back in. 
 This time, he slipped two fingers inside of you while he worked his tongue. He closed his eyes, enjoying the taste of you while he passionately used his fingers and tongue. 
 “I’ve dreamed of this…” He paused to kiss your inner thighs. “Wanted this for so long… needed to know what you tasted like.”
 “Mingi…” You breathed, watching as his pink tongue drew circles around your clit. “I-I’m gonna cum again…”
 “Yes,” he groaned, never coming up for air. “Please, baby. Come in my mouth. I wanna taste all of it, please… wanna lick you clean.”
 Hearing those filthy words come from shy, sweet Mingi’s mouth made your stomach flutter. Your thighs clenched around his head as he gave you the most enthusiastic slurp of the night, the otherwise silent room filled with the sounds of his mouth devouring you. 
 You moaned so loud when you came that there was no doubt in your mind that your roommates heard. Mingi’s groans of enthusiasm were hardly muted, either. 
 Your thighs twitched, your body shook and your hips pressed against Mingi’s warm mouth as your orgasm consumed you, and you’d never felt more adored in your life.
 And then he didn’t stop. 
 “Mingi!” You cried out, trying to squirm away from his tongue. 
 But he looped his arm under one of your thighs, keeping you pried open. He used his other hand to spread your pussy, groaning as he licked it again. 
 “My girl…” He mumbled, and he seemed to be drunk off the taste of you, talking to himself. “Such a pretty fuckin’ pussy…” 
 Your eyes widened and you twitched as his tongue flicked inside of you again. You’d never seen this side of Mingi before; you’d never seen anything close to this side of Mingi before… and you really, really didn’t want it to stop. But—
 “I’m really sensitive, Ming…”
 That seemed to snap him out of his trance a bit. He looked up, moving his body up to sweetly kiss your lips again. “I’m sorry, baby. You j-just…” He sighed, catching his breath. “You taste so good.”
 You smiled. “I really like it when you call me baby.”
 He kissed your forehead then collapsed on the bed, laying next to you. You rolled onto your side, gently stroking his belly. 
 “Do you feel good?” He asked softly, his full cheeks blushing. “Was that enough?”
 “Enough?” You laughed in disbelief. “It was perfect.” You nodded. “Perfect.”
 “I’ll always make sure you’re satisfied, okay?” Your boyfriend looked you in the eye, his brow slightly furrowed. “A-and I’ll always make sure you’re taken care of. I’ll make sure your belly is always full and your shoes never get dirty.”
 A kiss on his chin, your face in his neck. “It’s just me, Mingi. Just you and me.”
 “Just us…” He mumbled, “Just like always.”
 You nodded and then sat in silence, touching and being touched. He stroked your thigh with his pinky, his eyes on your lips. 
 “In our own little world. Just the two of us.”
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trivia-yandere · 3 months
Text
fixation
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a look into where it all began with jungkook and how much he loves having his lips on you… @darkuni63 @sweetempathprunetree @momnomnom
warning: step-sibling relationship, coercion, oral sex, slight yandere behavior, manipulation, nipple sucking, dry humping/grinding, fingering,
word count: 4.639
series masterlist
You’ve known Jeon Jungkook since you were a child - 10 years of age.  Your father had brought his mother - a beautiful woman, you’d admit, and her son over for dinner one night while you stayed the weekend with him. “Y/N, this is Jungkook.” you recall your father speaking, his hands upon Jungkook’s shoulders. You were seated at the dining table when the two of them arrived. “He’s going to be your brother.”
Jungkook acted the part - even if the two of you were the same age - as the annoying brother. You could also blame your 10 year old self, as well, for how you acted. You were an only child - a girl, at that - and finally, your father had a son. He and Jungkook watched sports together and went to games often. They would go fishing and when you came on the weekend, you’d hear Jungkook brag about it constantly.
But even if your father now had a son, Jungkook’s mother had a daughter. She enjoyed doing your hair the best she could and attempting to go places with you that she could only dream a mother and daughter duo would go - but that never angered Jungkook as much as it angered you that he was with your father. 
“It's just a little sibling rivalry.” your father said to Jungkook’s mother - now his wife - when you and Jungkook were attending middle school. Jungkook was new to your school and yet, he excelled. He had more friends than you and charted the highest scores - the two of you being tied academically. 
Every worry Jungkook’s mother had was brushed off by your father. “They act just like siblings.” he’d say with a laugh whenever you and Jungkook bickered over everything - and nothing. You dreaded going to your fathers on the weekends because that meant that you’d have to see and deal with Jungkook entirely - and he was nothing but a pain in the ass.
High School was the same, the only difference was the change in appearances. Jungkook grew overnight it seems and his high voice deepened. He worked out more due to him playing sports and that also meant his body changed, as well. 
“That’s your brother?!” a friend said with wide eyes when Jungkook had given you a sideways hug (a rule he had broken just to piss you off) and said: “Dad wants us to ride home together.”
And from that moment, you were Jungkook’s sister - not Y/N, but Jeon fucking Jungkook’s sister and you suspected he did it purposely. 
And Jungkook had - something he’d never admit to you. Just as his body developed in High School, so has yours and by senior year you were the talk of the boys locker room (as were most senior girls). “Y/N’s ass is amazing.” one boy had said as he walked in, his eyes focused down the hall where Jungkook assumed you were standing. “She has the perfect hips.”
“Her lips are good, too.” said another boy. “I just know she knows how to suck-”
“That’s my sister.” Jungkook deadpanned, his eyes narrow at the boys who immediately silence their crude talk about you.
A side of Jungkook told himself that he respected you as his (step) sister and didn’t like the filthy thoughts coming from others. But then there was the side of him that he wanted to bury away that agreed with them.
Jungkook had noticed that same day how your hips were nice and your ass was amazing. As you and he walked out of school together that Friday, he noticed as you sat in his car (a gift from your father since Jungkook had gotten his license before you) that your lips were good. You were coating them with gloss, eyes focused on the mirror to not mess anything up. 
Once these thoughts were there, they weren’t going away; as disgusting as it was.
You were his (step) sister and Jungkook had respect for you - even if the two of you fought constantly. You appeared to dislike him as a whole as you grew older and of course, he’d tease you and say it was because he was better than you at everything - but still, you were his sister.
The thoughts he held for you were impure and they weren’t going to go away until he fixed them.
It started subtle at first; light touches. He’d brush by you on the weekends when you’d come. Now teenagers at 18 of age, you two were often left alone. Your father would often go out with Jungkook’s mother and neither of you minded - Jungkook would bring his friends over and sometimes, you’d do the same. This weekend was different, however. There was a change in Jungkook’s behavior.
Jungkook would hold your hips often when passing by. He’d place a hand on your lower back when he comes up from behind you. His teasing never ceased, but they became more…sensual? 
Your mind tells you that it’s in your head. Jungkook was (unfortunately) your brother - step brother - but a brother nonetheless. He has now introduced you as his sister at school and that now means you had girls you’d never talk to attempting to speak with you in order to get to the person that was Jeon Jungkook.
The first time you’ve done something with Jeon Jungkook you had cried and vomited when you came back to your senses. “Stop being scared.” Jungkook said, passing you the glass with a shot's worth of alcohol in it. “Dad would never know.”
You grabbed the glass only because you didn’t want to appear like a loser. It was the weekend once more and you stayed at your father’s home and it was the same weekend your father and step-mother were celebrating their anniversary away. They felt comfortable leaving you and Jungkook alone more now since graduation was right around the corner. 
 A few friends and no parties was your father’s rule and that’s exactly what you’ve stuck by. Jungkook had a few friends each over while you decided to remain alone - Taehyung was someone you were nervous around because he was older and college age. He was far more experienced in drinking than you’d ever be and you didn’t want to appear like a fool.
“Your sister’s so cute.” Jimin had said to you - the same age as Taehyung and attending the same college. He laughed when your face scrunched in disgust at the harsh taste of the alcohol. “So innocent.” he murmured. 
It didn’t take long for the effects of the alcohol to flow through you entirely and you were now looser. You laughed along to whatever Taehyung said, a hot feeling running through you. The man sees the glossy look in your eyes as you look at him with such innocent-like eyes and he does nothing but pat your head gently - you were someone he had to remain at a distance because you were his younger friend's sister.
“You like Tae.” Jungkook said to you once his friends had left and you and he were left alone. “He’ll never like you back, you know? Bro code.”
Your head is spinning slightly and all you can hear is the annoying voice of Jungkook ruining your vibe. You grabbed the bottle from his hands and took a messy swig of it. “Fuck you.” you slur.
Jungkook scoffs, his eyes racking your figure. You had taken off the hoodie you wore an hour ago and now stayed in a tanktop and shorts. 
“No one likes me because of you.”
“That’s not true. Everyone likes you.” Jungkook had scoffed - he’s come across enough locker room talk about you.
“And no one wants to do anything with me because of you!” you hissed. You were drunk, Jungkook notes, and now your feelings were falling right into his lap. 
“You should be thanking me. They just want to use you for your body. They can smell your virginity from a mile away.”
Your eyes widen and your body heats with embarrassment. Without thinking, you threw the bottle at Jungkook. It smashes against his chin and he releases a loud groan at you doing so.
“I-I’m sorry-” you didn't actually intend for the bottle to connect. 
Jungkook presses his lips against yours, hands roughly grabbing your hips to keep you down. You’re shocked at the action and for a moment, you’re stuck on what to do or how to react. 
You’ve kissed a boy before, sure, but not Jungkook - his lips are soft and not as chapped as the last boy you’ve kissed. 
Jungkook pushes himself away as if realizing his mistake, his eyes are just as wide as yours and before he can apologize for his actions, you vomit completely on him, hot tears pouring down from your eyes. Now you’re truly embarrassed; humiliated. You were crying because the thought of kissing Jungkook sends shockwaves of both disgust and a taboo pleasure; and because you also vomited on him.
You ran to your room, stumbling a bit because the room was spinning entirely too much. You ignored Jungkook’s calls for you entirely and slammed your door shut.
You felt stupid, disgusted and humiliated all at once. 
It was the following morning where you were forced to face Jungkook once more, now sober, and this time the boy refused to be ignored. You were fresh out of the shower, speed walking down to your bedroom where you were face to face with Jungkook, him sitting directly on your bed. 
“Good morning.” Jungkook says cooly, his eyes on your face as if awaiting for your reaction. 
“What are you doing here?” you ask, clenching the towel on your body tighter. 
“Are you scared of me, Y/N?”
You’re taken aback by the question. “No.” you answer truthfully - there wasn't a reason to. Jungkook wasn’t a threat to you. 
“Then why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”
“More like a roach.” you spit, and Jungkook chuckles. 
“I want to talk about last night.”
You swallow, the room now growing hot. “What about last night?” you say, stepping into your room. “I got drunk…I don’t really remember what happened.” 
Jungkook watches you intently as you enter your closet and crack the door gently. It was big enough for you to hide in it for a moment to grab a robe and return. “Did I do something to embarrass myself?” you laugh humorlessly. 
You’re shaking with nerves and Jungkook knows you’re lying; pretending to not know what has happened. 
“You don’t remember?” Jungkook furrows a brow, turning to you fully. You sit on your bed, back pressed against the headboard.
You shake your head. 
“Hm.” Jungkook stands. “That’s too bad.” 
You swallow a dry lump in your throat, a part of you wanting to question what Jungkook meant by “too bad”. 
“You told me it was my fault that no one touches you.” Jungkook says after a moment of reading your face. “I’m sorry for that.”
Your body is hot; you remembered saying that. You remembered it all, as drunk as you were. You’re surprised you didn’t wake up with a hangover.
“It’s not your fault.” you murmur, glancing away. 
“I know.” Jungkook snickers. “Still, I know how boys are, Y/N. I am one.” he says. “They’ll take advantage of you. They’ll use you just to get in your pants.”
The conversation was going left, you note. You and Jungkook never spoke about this - sex or boys or anything related. He once teased you for having a crush back in middle school and that caused you to push him hard in a puddle of mud. He was so embarrassed about “being pushed by a girl” that he told your father that he tripped instead. 
“You should experience…” Jungkook trails off, as if trying to find the correct words to say. “...being touched by someone you love-”
“Please stop the speech.” you’re cringing, never in a million years thinking you’d hear this from Jungkook of all people. 
“I’m being serious Y/N.” Jungkook comes around to sit directly in front of you, eyes watching you closely. “It’s better with someone you love.”
“Did you love anyone you,” you raise your hands to do air quotes. “touched.”
Jungkook snickers. “I’m a boy. We’re wired differently.” he brushed your question off. “You’re a girl. You’re not. You’ll grow attached to the person who takes your virginity and they’ll let you down. And as your brother,” Jungkook’s eyes zone in on you so deep that it catches you by surprise. “I’ll have to kill them.”
You roll your eyes - but goosebumps litter the skin of your arms. “You’re so unserious.” you respond. “Since when do you play the step-brother role?”
“Since now. I love you, Y/N.” Jungkook smiles, his teeth - that reminded you of a bunny - on full display. “That’s why I want to be the one to…touch you.”
Now, in this instant, you’re positive that you looked like you’ve seen a ghost. Your body is stiff and your eyes widen at Jungkook’s words. He doesn’t speak for a moment to allow your mind to think about the words he’s spoken. 
“Excuse me?”
“Yes?”
Jungkook doesn’t appear as distraught as you - he was the one to suggest it. 
“W-What are you saying?” you hiss at him, body hot. You’re sure this was another cruel joke Jungkook was going to push at you. He was going to burst out laughing at any minute and it was just a ruse to fluster you even more.
“I’m saying,” Jungkook tilts his head. “I want to be the one to pleasure you first.” he reiterates nonchalantly. “I can’t think of anyone that would love you more than me. You’re my sister-”
“Don’t call me that!” you hiss at Jungkook. 
Jungkook furrows his brows. “Why not? Is it not true?” he asks. “You’re my step-sister. If you want to lose your virginity then I’ll be the perfect person to do so. I actually care for your feelings, don’t I?” he shrugs his shoulders. 
You shake your head, mind trying to adjust to Jungkook’s words. “You’re crazy.” you scoff, but you glance away for a moment to think about what he’s said. 
“You’d rather have sex with someone you don’t love than me?” Jungkook crosses his arms over his chest. 
“You’re my broth…step-brother.” you respond. “It’s kinda weird thinking about you in that way.”
“Then don’t.” Jungkook shrugs. “Just think of me as Jungkook. We’re both seniors in High School about to graduate. Do you really want to go to college as a virgin?”
Going to college as a virgin shouldn’t bother you - you weren’t there to be fucked into oblivion countless times. However, your childish mind tells you that going to college without any experience was going to be your downfall. You think about Jungkook’s older friends - how Jimin called you innocent. How Taehyung lightly patted your head to dismiss you.
Jungkook watches your face fall and he understands that slowly, you were considering his proposal.
“We don’t have to jump into sex completely. Since you’re new to this I want to focus on your pleasure.”
“Like what?” you ask innocently. 
Jungkook offers a soft smile. “You trust me, right? I love you and you love me.”
Slowly, you nod. You’re sure you did love Jungkook - knowing his since you were a child and growing up alongside him.
“Okay.” Jungkook nods his head, inching closer to your stiff frame. He places a hand onto your face. “It’s just me, remember. You don’t have to be scared.”
You nod your head hesitantly. You didn’t have to be scared, yet you were. The thought of doing anything sexual with Jungkook causes fear to run through your veins - getting caught in the act was yet another fear. Your father wouldn’t be returning until Monday afternoon, but that didn’t cause your nerves to cease.
Jungkook leans closer to press a kiss against your lips much like he did the night prior, only this time more gentle. His lips were what you remembered them to be - soft and…a hint of strawberry? Jungkook often wore chapstick so you weren’t as confused as you would’ve been. 
You don’t move and allow Jungkook to completely take charge. “I’m going to continue to kiss you.” he murmurs breathily against your lips and you can only nod. But Jungkook doesn’t kiss your mouth, he instead kisses down your jawline to your chin and reaches your neck. “Lay down.” he instructs.
Your robe hikes up your thigh as you do as Jungkook tells you and it’s that moment that you remember that you were naked under the silk material - how you forgot was beyond you. 
A hand touches your outer thigh and you flinch, nerves kicking back in. 
“It’s just me.” Jungkook repeats against your neck. “Open your legs.”
It takes you a moment to listen to Jungkook. You’re trembling when you finally do open your legs and Jungkook takes it upon himself to wrap them around his waist. 
Jungkook’s closer - the closest he’s ever been to you. You were naked right beneath him, the silk robe only reaching higher and higher up your thigh that you have no coverage whatsoever. 
Jungkook’s sweats are thick, but he’s directly against your core and he could feel the pulsing from between your legs, similar to a heart beat. 
Your skin is soft, Jungkook notes while both hands run beneath the robe. He inches up slowly, enjoying the way your breathing becomes heavy.
“Jung-” you don’t finish your speech and it’s interrupted by both of Jungkook’s hands engulfing your ass entirely. 
Jungkook shudders at the feel of you. His sweats were becoming tight but he knows he cannot act on his urges - not when you were trusting him with this. 
Jungkook’s kisses proceed to go past your neck, hands rising  upwards to untie your robe. It falls open and now Jungkook has full access to your naked body.
“You have such a slutty body, Y/N.” Jungkook murmurs, his voice deeper than usual. You want to ask what that meant and if it was bad; but Jungkook doesn’t allow you to. His hands engulf your breast fully, his thumbs rubbing along your erect nipples. 
“Does that feel good?” Jungkook asks, his eyes darting from your breast to your face. 
You slowly nod your head, embarrassed at how good it did feel. 
“Good.” Jungkook mumbles. Your breast felt as amazing as your ass and fit perfectly in the palms of his hand. His own breathing intensified, his cock throbbing to be released from the prison that was his underwear and sweatpants. “You’re aroused. I can feel your through my sweats.”
“Sorry-”
“Don’t apologize.” Jungkook snickers. “You’re supposed to be. Here,”
Jungkook wanted to feel you as much as he possibly could. He removes himself from you briefly, his warmth gone entirely that you slightly shiver. He then lowers his sweats enough so that he’s only in his underwear, his erection appearing painfully hard. 
“You can grind against me. It’ll feel good.” Jungkook returns to you, left hand dipping to grip your ass and press you firmly against his clothed erection. The material of his underwear briefs are far more thin than his sweats and he’s thankful that he gets to feel some part of you.
While Jungkook’s left hand grips your ass, his left goes to rub along your breast, his thumb and index pinching your nipple for a reaction.
You yelp when you feel a new sensation - Jungkook’s tongue. He’s ensuring every part of you has a form of pleasure, his tongue swirling on your other nipple entirely.
Jungkook’s hips thrust into you, his eyes fluttering close. His pleasure could never match what you were feeling now, but even doing the deed - something so forbidden for step-siblings - was causing a wave of adrenaline and pleasure to flow through him.
The pleasure you were feeling was just as foreign, but you couldn’t deny how good it felt. You could feel the sticky arousal between your legs that’s staining Jungkook’s underwear. You couldn’t care now, not when you were matching Jungkook’s thrust with your own grinding.
This isn’t good, you tell yourself. Jungkook and you weren’t supposed to be doing this.
But it felt good - Jungkook’s tongue suckling on your breast, his hand gripping your ass so tight while he’s grinding against you. 
“I told you it’ll feel better when you do it with someone you love.” Jungkook says against your breast, his tongue flickering out his lips to flicker against your nipple. 
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The amount of times Jungkook and you continued to engage in sexual acts should be unhealthy. It should have stopped after the first time - but it didn’t. You’re embarrassed to say that you came just by grinding against him, an act that Jungkook found so hot that he wanted to do it again and again and again.
The entire weekend was you and Jungkook. Slowly, you became comfortable with being with him. By the third day, you had since sat in his lap completely naked just in hopes of getting off - and Jungkook allowed it. He loved watching the way you succumb with pleasure,  so wet and ready to cum that you didn’t care what he was doing. He had to mute his microphone on his game that he was playing with Taehyung, ignoring the screams his friend was shouting over the headset about their team losing because of him - but Jungkook didn’t care.
One thing Jungkook enjoyed was tasting you, as weird as it sounded. He’s done this before with other girls - but you were different. He enjoyed sucking and kissing on your kiss and watching your raw reaction to it. He’d place his hands upon your hips as you grind against his cock,  his tongue rubbing along your soft skin. Your breasts were littered with hickies now and you didn’t care in the slightest.
But Jungkook is salivating at the thought of getting to taste you. He can feel how wet your are, your pussy releasing sweet arousal all over his cock that it’s a waste that he hasn’t tasted it. 
The idea of you spread before him as he ravishes your pussy, your moans high and full of lust.
Jungkook is going to do so - now. He doesn’t care if you’re on the phone with your friends; you’ve interrupted him when he was on his game. He had to hear Taehyung berate him for an hour straight.
You’re already naked, Jungkook notes, and that’s good. While you and he started this only two days ago, you wanted him at every given moment and being naked was the quickest way for you to have him. 
Jungkook enters your room without knocking and you furrow a brow at him. He doesn’t speak, he doesn’t need to. You know what he wants (in a way) and you’ll always be ready to give it to him. 
What you aren’t expecting was Jungkook to pull your legs apart, and without warning, dive right into it. His tongue lays flat against your clit, his hands going beneath your thighs to assure you don’t close them.
You yelp loudly at the sudden action, a low groan releasing from your lips.
“I-I’m okay.” you tell your friend over the phone. “K-Keep telling me what happened.”
You mute your phone and place it aside. “W-What-”
“Shut up.” Jungkook tells you. He doesn’t want to think about anything but tasting you, having you cum all over his lips. 
Your friend's speech dies down in the background. Jungkook doesn’t allow any time for you to adjust, his tongue laps between your folds hungrily. Your moans are as sweet as your pussy and he focuses on it and your pleasure entirely. He slurps and sucks against your clit as if it’s his last meal.
“Jungkook, I-I-”
Jungkook’s eyes flicker up to look at you and once more, you groan. 
This is bad, you think. No, worse. 
You told yourself that eventually, you and Jungkook would need to stop this. That you couldn’t keep allowing him to make you cum; but then he makes it harder. Grinding against him was one thing - still bad seeing as he was your step-brother - but this? This was worst.
And the worst felt so good.
“K-Kookie,  please-”
You haven’t called Jungkook that since middle school - a nickname he hated as he grew older. But the name sounds so sweet coming from your lips that he just wants to ravish your pussy even more. 
“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asks, then swipes his tongue against your clit slowly. He keeps his eyes on you as he does this, your reaction enticing him. “Want you to cum on my face.”
Your thighs quiver at Jungkook's words, body radiating with heat. Slowly you nod your head, slightly anticipating the new found pleasure Jungkook was giving you.
“It’ll feel good…” Jungkook says suddenly. “...might feel a little different.”
You’re unsure what he’s speaking of until you feel pressure. Your walls clench around his fingers, the feeling completely unexpected and unfamiliar. 
“Relax, Y/N. It’ll feel good soon.”
Jungkook continues to lick on your clit, slowly entering his fingers deeper inside of you. You’re tight - the tightest he’s ever felt. But you were also a virgin and this was something he’s never had before. It excites him greatly, the thought of you giving your body to him; him being your first for everything sends shock waves through him.
You hum low and your thigh twitches. Jungkook's fingers are long and they’re now hitting a nerve deep inside of you. 
Your back arches as Jungkook picks up the pace in his thrusting. His eyes never leave you as he does, enjoying the way your face contorts with pleasure. You’re beautiful, he thinks, as he always thought you were. Now you’re beautiful to him in more ways than one and your body has developed gracefully over the years.
Your eyes snap shut, a long moan releasing deep from your throat. You’re positive that this was going to make you cum quick - the quickest you’ve ever had. 
“You’re so wet, Y/N.” Jungkook says, hovering above you. He doesn’t stop his thrusting fingers and his eyes are fixed on how good the sight of you is. “Aren’t you happy you agreed to this?”
“Yes!” you moan, nodding your head. There’s that familiar bubbling in your stomach creeping up on you.
“So pretty…” Jungkook groans. Your juices were leaking onto his palm entirely. He can’t wait until he could have you the way he wants to - to fully pleasure you the best way he knows how. 
This isn’t something Jungkook ever wants to stop doing - the rush that goes through him at the fact that this is something you and he were not supposed to be doing. The forbidden action makes him want you even more - want you at times he truly shouldn’t and he ponders how he would react when you two were no longer alone. 
Your thighs are shaking erratically and Jungkook knows you’re cumming. This must be bliss for you, he thinks, cumming so much in such a short amount of time. You’re just lucky that it was him - someone who truly loved you - that was doing this for you. Another person wouldn’t care if you came or not.
Jungkook presses a kiss against your lips as you ride out your orgasm. He sends them across your cheek to your neck as you slowly begin to calm down from your high. “I think your friend hung up.” Jungkook says, eyes glancing at your discarded phone. 
You don’t respond, exhaustion hitting you drastically. 
Jungkook pecks your lips once more. “Next time, I want you to sit on my face.” he says to you, removing his fingers entirely.
This was bad, you think. But you didn’t want it to end.
next (tape) | series masterlist | final (sibling rivalry)
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poshmina · 3 months
Text
A Tale of Two*Very Sensitive* Wings
Azriel X !Fem Reader
Warnings: (18+ Mature) wingplay, size kink, light angst, getting caught
Word Count: 5k+
Background: You are a long lost Archeron half-sister and your dad sends a message asking if your sisters will provide you with refuge. They oblige, bringing you back to the night court to reside with them and the rest of the inner circle. The story begins after A Court of Mist and Fury when Nesta lets slip to you at dinner that Azriel thinks he’s your mate. At first, this shocks you, as you are still human and are not accustomed to the traditions of the Fae. However, as time goes on you’ve begun to feel drawn to him. You spend your time in the Night Court learning healing practices, since you have no magical power and cannot fight with the rest of them. You’ve been staying in the House of Wind with Azriel, and though you see him often and want to get closer to him, he is always quiet and withdrawn, leaving you confused wondering how someone so distant could be your mate?
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The floor of the House of Wind shudders as an Illyrian male lands on the balcony. You look up from where you’d been sitting at the table, enjoying dinner, and watch his shadow cross the balcony. You can’t make out his face in the darkness, but you know who it is anyhow. 
Azriel crosses the threshold of the doorway into the dining room, his long wings tucked against his back. He hardly casts you a passing glance as he breaches the room, shadows swirling around him, seemingly not in the mood to chat tonight. You’ve gotten used to the quiet, brooding demeanor of your housemate, and usually you don’t press. Except tonight there’s blood on his face, in his hair, and on his clothes. As he walks, pieces flake off and scatter across the floor, meaning it’s been there long enough to dry. Meaning he likely left his wounds untreated the entire flight here, meaning he risked passing out mid flight and tumbling to his death due to blood loss.
You shove your chair out from behind you and stand, the sound echoing across the hall. “How long have you been bleeding?”
He doesn’t pause, or even look over his shoulder to address you. “It’s not mine.”
By this point, he’s halfway across the room, apparently planning to head to his quarters without having someone check his wounds. That’s when you notice it, a myriad of tears across his wings as if he’d been struck with arrows and then yanked them back out. The blood on his wings is most definitely his own. 
“Azriel!” It comes out as a mix between a shout and a plea. You can tell yourself you don’t really care about him, that you would harass anyone until they got treated, except this is more than medical obligation. You’re beginning to care for him.
He stops in his tracks, but doesn’t look over his shoulder. “Y/N, I’m fine,” he insists. 
You cross the room towards him. “Clearly you’re not! There are holes in your wings. You’re so covered in blood there’s no way even you could tell if there were wounds hidden beneath. You have to get treated!”
He lets out an irritated sigh and finally turns to face you. “Y/N, you don’t have to involve yourself in this. It’s none of your business.”
Gods, you can’t believe him. “You made it my business when you came in tracking blood across the house. Either go see a healer, or let me take a look.”
You don’t know why you’re so insistent. He could be fine. He’s been alive for hundreds of years and surely knows his physical limits. Except you’re so tired of him keeping you at arm's length, so tired of his closed off, brooding attitude. 
He hesitates, jaw clenched, but doesn’t agree. 
“Just let me help you,” you plead. 
For a moment, you think you see behind his mask, the cold exterior he keeps up around you. You think he’s going to say yes.
Instead he draws further on himself and pushes you further away. “I’m fine, Y/N. Worry about yourself.” He turns to disappear down the hallway, but doesn’t get two steps before you’re walking after him. You don’t know what’s gotten into you tonight, but you’re sick of his games. Sick of waiting and wondering if he’ll ever make a move. If he even likes you. Every feeling you bottled up from the past few months comes to a head, tumbling out of you.
“What is wrong with you?” You ask, exasperated. 
He wheels around to face you, unable to mask the surprise on his face, “What?”
“I said what is wrong with you! You’re always irritated, or distant, or avoidant. You actively avoid me even though I’ve done nothing but be kind to you. You act like I’m a thorn in your side even though I have every right to be here in this house with you.” You jab a finger towards the floor to solidify your point. “Do you think I asked to be here? To be taken from my home and thrust into this strange kingdom, with your strange Fae traditions, where everyone is older, and faster and stronger than me?” He blinks, stunned into silence by your sudden outburst.
“Do you think I asked to have you as my mate?”
Immediately, you wish you could take it back. You hadn’t meant for that to come out at all, let alone in such an accusatory tone. Really, you don’t mind the thought of him as your mate. That is, if you could explore the bond together. If he would quit shoving you away. 
His shadows flare, and the scowl you've become so accustomed to returns. “Who told you that?”
“I—” You fumble over your words, “I didn’t mean to tell you that.”
He takes a step closer, and all of the sudden you get a very real sense of his height as he towers over you. “Doesn’t matter, you already did. Now who told you?”
You reel to find something to distract him, not wanting to put the blame on Nesta. Your relationship with your new sister is so new and fragile, you can’t drive a wench in it. “I deserved to know Azriel. It’s not like you were going to tell me.”
His gaze flickers, and you swear you see a flash of pain in those eyes. “I didn’t want you to find out this way.”
The sting of rejection pangs sharp in your chest. He didn’t want you to find out this way, or he didn’t want you to find out at all? All these months avoiding you, acting like he wants nothing more than for you to poof out of his life and return where you came from. You tried to ignore the fear, tried to push it away, but now the reality crashes over you. Your mate doesn’t want you at all. 
“Well now I know and I don’t expect anything from you.” You jab a finger towards his chest. “I know I’m human and I’m weak and you didn’t ask for me either. But it wouldn’t kill you to be a little nicer to me.” You take a shuddering breath, and a weight seems to fall off your shoulder with all of those words out. You realize you’ve moved closer to him and take a step back.
“Nicer,” he repeats, watching you intently. 
“Yes,” you huff. “We don’t have to be anything more than acquaintances. Housemates, even. But you don’t have to be such a dick.” You cross your arms and level him a stare.
He sighs, shaking head in disbelief. “Fine. What exactly does this relationship of acquaintance entail?” One of his wings shudders behind him, and from the wince on his face you can tell it wasn’t on purpose. You look at it pointedly. 
“Letting me help you would be a start.”
There’s a final moment of hesitation, drawn out long enough that you think he might actually turn you away. Except then he shakes his head, and as if it physically pains him to do so, says, “As you wish.” Without another word he turns down the hall to head to his rooms. You take a moment of pause, wondering if you pushed too far. The male in front of you is not just any man, he’s a centuries old Illyrian warrior with power beyond your comprehension. Any relationship with him could be dangerous, acquaintance or no. 
But he turns back to you. “You coming?” And for some reason you can’t help but follow.
“Fuck.” He shudders beneath your hands. The blood was not, in fact, entirely his opponents. He had two gashes, one across his abdomen and the other along his bicep. Although his fae blood was already beginning to heal them, you insisted he let you stitch them up in order to avoid scarring. 
You thread the needle through his skin and finish the final stitch, clipping the string you used to sew him up and sitting back to admire your handiwork. You may not have magic, but you quickly excelled in the healing arts. 
“All done,” you tell him. He lifts his head from where it had been bowed against his arms and inspects your work. If he’s impressed or not, you can’t tell. He shows nothing on his face, not even a hint of pain from the wounds still remaining on his wings. 
“Now for your wings,” you shift to stand behind him, biting your lip as you try to decide a course of action. Wings can’t be stitched up, they have to heal naturally, and take longer than most ailments to close. The best you can offer is to apply a numbing salve to curb the pain for now. You’re about to tell him that when he says—
“I can handle it.”
You knit your eyebrows. “I’m already here. You won’t be able to reach behind you. If I don’t numb them you’ll be in serious pain all night.”
Put so plainly you’re unsure how he could refuse. He does anyhow. “I don’t need numbing salve. You’ve done plenty, thank you.” And just like that he dismisses you. Except now that he’s washed the blood from his skin you can see just how pale he is, and with the pain he won’t be able to get a lick of sleep, slowing the healing process altogether. 
You prop a hand on your hip. “As your healing professional I would strongly advise against that.” You don’t understand his reluctance, and every time he says no to help, it only makes you want to push further. 
He looks up at you, and for the first time in maybe forever, one side of his lips quirk up into a smirk. “Healing professional, huh?” 
You shrug. “The closest you have to one, at least.”
He tilts his head back and mutters a prayer to the Mother. “You’re not going to leave until I let you do this, will you?”
“It’s unlikely.”
He gives an exasperated sigh, then leans over the desk he’d been sitting at, baring his wings to you. “Make it quick.” His voice is muffled by the cradle of his arms. You can’t help but smirk at the success. Progress. This is progress.
A few minutes later the house has summoned a jar of numbing salve for you and you are standing over him, preparing to begin your work. 
“This may sting for a moment, but once it settles it will fade.” He grunts in response. “I’ll be gentle,” you add. You scoop a generous portion out of the jar, warming it between your fingers before applying it. You decide to start at the outskirts where the tears are thinner and not as gruesome. Hovering a hand over his wing, you pause for a moment before gingerly spreading the salve on him. He tenses immediately, hissing through his teeth before relaxing as it settles in.
“Okay?” You ask.
“Fine.” His tone is clipped. 
Taking that as permission, you continue along the edges of his wings, applying and waiting for him to adjust before moving to the next. As far as cooperation goes, he is the ideal patient. He doesn’t so much as shift a muscle while you work, and remains deadly silent. If it weren’t for his fists resting on the table clenched to the point his knuckles are white, you would think it was painless. 
Once you finish the outer ring of his wings, you pause. “I’m going to tackle the deeper ones now. Do you need a break?”
“Don’t bother.” His voice comes out muffled, and you notice one of his hands has disappeared into the space between his arms where his head is caged. He’s likely biting at his finger to distract from the pain. 
“Would you like something to bite on?”
 For a moment there’s no response, then his hand returns into sight on the desk. “I’m fine, Y/N. Please continue.” He says as if you’re a nagging insect buzzing at his ear rather than the only person trying to help him. 
With a huff, you dip your fingers into the jar again, and begin to spread the salve near the base of his wings. This time, you aren’t quite so gentle. 
He lets out a strangled sound beneath you, somewhere between a gasp and a groan. Immediately, you feel guilty, and start to take more care with the application, massaging slow, deliberate circles into the muscles of his wings. You can feel the muscles around the tears shudder and relax as you go. He curses beneath your hands. 
You’ve almost reached the last, and nastiest, of his wounds when he abruptly shoves his chair backwards and stands, causing you to lose your balance. You nearly fall on your ass before catching yourself on the desk. 
“That’s enough,” he nearly shouts at the same time you say, “What the fuck, Azriel?” His eyes are wild, chest heaving as he glares down at you. He distinctly seems to angle his body away from you.
“I wasn’t finished,” you argue.
He looks up at the ceiling, anywhere but directly at you. “You’ve done plenty.” Instinctively, your eyes fall to his stomach to double check the work you’d done earlier. Instead, your eyes snag on something a few inches lower.
Your eyes widen as you take in the obvious bulge straining against his leathers. 
Oh.
One of the first things you’d learned about treating the Fae is that wings are very sensitive. They are to be handled with the utmost care, their delicate construction requiring practiced healing applications. However, in all your training, nobody had deigned to mention sensitive goes hand in hand with pleasurable. 
His eyes flare as you look back up at him, cheeks heating. You open your mouth to say something, anything, but words don’t come. He merely continues to stare at you with that heated gaze. 
“I should go,” the words come out of you in a frenzied rush. He doesn’t agree, but he doesn’t disagree either. “I just— I didn’t realize,” now that you’ve started, you can hardly stop yourself. “This is all so new to me. I wouldn’t have if I’d known—”
“Now you know.” If he means it to be harsh, it doesn’t come out that way, but rather like a plea.
“I should go,” you say again, but can hardly move a muscle. With him standing there and looking at you like that, with the distance between you so small. You feel as if you're drowning, and he is the current pulling you further under. 
You let out a small gasp as you feel a featherlight touch on your cheek. One of his shadows has crept across the room, and whether he intended it or not, is caressing you gently. Instinctively, you lean into it.
A few paces away, you watch his lips part as he watches you. He doesn’t recall his shadow. Instead, it inches closer, brushing across your lips. You don’t dare move, you don’t dare breathe. 
“Azriel,” you whisper. 
In a moment he’s upon you. The shadow dissipates, replaced by his hands cupping your face, his hips pushing you backwards until you're pressed against the desk. He kisses you with a hunger you’ve never felt before, his lips moving desperately against yours. You let out a whimper as he guides your lips apart, running his tongue across your own. 
With every ounce of self control you have left, you manage to shove him away for a moment. 
“I thought you hated me. I thought you didn’t want me as your mate.” You search his eyes for answers, for the cold, closed off man you’d known up until now.
“Hate you?” He tips his head back and laughs humorlessly. “If hating you means thinking about you every waking moment. If hating you means desperately wishing you’d appear outside my doorway every night. If hating you means not being able to even think about you without—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head. “If that’s what it means then sure, Y/N, I hate you.”
Your mind reels trying to process what he’s telling you. “You sure as hell acted like it.”
A flash of regret crosses through his eyes. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured. I wanted to give you time to adjust.”
Faintly, you remember what had happened when Lucien had sprung the mating bond on a newly transformed Elain. She can hardly stand to be in the same room as him, let alone pursue a relationship. 
In a moment of boldness, you reach down and palm him through his leathers, watching as his eyes flutter closed in pleasure. “Consider me adjusted.” You yank him back down to you, crashing his lips against yours. He meets you with the same intensity, tongue and lips and teeth clashing in a heavenly dance. His hand slides up to your throat as he kisses you, holding gently. It’s only when you pull away to gasp for air when you realize his shadows are floating around you, cradling you both. 
Your lips part in wonder. It’s beautiful, but you hardly get the chance to tell him so before he lifts you up on the desk and resumes the contact. His kisses stray from the side of your mouth, to your jaw and neck. He takes your ear between his teeth and tugs lightly, sending shivers of pleasure through you. His hand cups your breast, and when the attention of his mouth lowers to your collarbones, you lean back to shuck your shirt off. He palms your breast greedily, reaching behind you to undo your bra clasp before taking a moment to stare. You feel your cheeks heat at the intensity of his gaze, and have the urge to cover yourself again.
“Perfect. You’re fucking perfect Y/N,” he mutters before lowering his mouth to your nipple and closing his mouth upon it, sucking and swirling in a way that makes you arch into him. He gives your other breast equal attention until you're moaning and panting beneath him. 
He retreats to relive himself of his armor. If there’s any remaining pain in his wings, he doesn’t show it. He steps close and positions himself between your legs, peering down at you. You reach out a hesitant hand and hover it over the tip of his wing. He watches your movements with rapt attention, nearly holding his breath with anticipation. 
You brush a featherlight touch along the crest of his wings, and that touch alone is enough to cause him to shudder and groan under his breath. You can’t imagine how he stood still for so long earlier. 
You reach down and tug at the hem of his shirt, wanting it off. He obliges, tossing it aside, returning his attention to you. You take him in slowly, dragging a hand down the hard line of his abs, tracing his tattoos with your finger. He waits patiently, letting you have your fill. Unable to help yourself, you glance down at his hardness again, breath faltering as you take in exactly how big he is. From a distance, it seemed reasonable, but from this close…
He reaches out a hand to cup your face, peering into your eyes. “Are you sure you want this?”
Without a moment's hesitation, you say. “Yes. I want this Azriel. I want you.”
You watch relief flash in his eyes before he resumes his movements. His hands go to your waistband, and he unbuttons your pants before leaning in to whisper, “Lift your hips for me, “Y/N.”
You do as he says, positioning yourself so he can slide your pants over your hips and cast them aside. He repeats this motion with your underwear, baring you completely to him. And before you can even consider what’s to come next, he lowers himself to his knees in front of the desk, bringing his face directly in line with where you need him most. He places one long lick from your entrance to your crest, drawing a ragged gasp from you, then pulls away. 
“Y/N.”
“Yes?” Your mind spins, because as he’s talking, his mouth is hovering over you and you can feel his breath as he speaks. 
He dips a finger between your folds, dragging it up to circle your clit. “I’m gonna get you ready now so you can take me comfortably, alright?”
You hardly register what he’s saying, because his finger is moving fervently against you and you can already feel that coil of pleasure within you. You give a short nod in response. 
Then, as quickly as it came, the pressure on your clit is gone. You look down to see him peering up at you, waiting for an answer. What did he say again?
He must sense you drawing a blank, because he smirks and repeats himself. “I need you to be good and do as I say so you can take me fully. Okay, Y/N?” 
“Oh… Yes. Okay,” you nod fervently. It’s then you realize exactly what he’s saying to you. You heard rumors around the inner circle that Azriel had the biggest… wingspan… but you never imagined anything close to this.
Satisfied with your answer, he resumes again, lowering his mouth to take the place of his finger. He circles his tongue around your clit, then sucks gently. You’re already seeing stars when you feel his finger at his entrance and he slowly slides it into you. 
You moan and arch off the desk, hands flying to his head to tangle in his hair. You chance a glance down at him, and the sight of him kneeling before you, wings looming over his shoulders, eyes dark with lust, almost sends you over the edge then and there. 
He begins to pump into you slowly, curling every so often to hit a spot that makes you writhe and moan. You’re just at the crest of your orgasm when he adds another finger. You hadn’t expected it, and the new sensation causes your hips to jerk as you gasp in pleasure. 
“Azriel I’m gonna—”
“Not yet,” he murmurs. “Hold on a little longer for me, Y/N.”
You curse, trying to dampen the pleasure growing inside you. It’s all too much, and you have to bring your hand to your mouth and bite on your knuckle to keep from coming. He slows his movements for a moment, purposefully torturing you and keeping you on that edge. 
A moment later, everything resumes with increased intensity. He pushes a third finger inside you, stretching you in a way you’ve never felt before. You gasp, shutting your eyes against the pleasure, and when you open them again, he is standing in front of you, never stopping the pace of his fingers. He raises his other hand to circle your clit. The pleasure reaches a new crest, and you find yourself grasping onto the desk just to find something to ground you. 
“That's it. Come for me now,” he whispers, eyes never leaving you as the orgasm washes over you. You shudder as you come down from it, hips bucking against his hand. When you finally open your eyes you find your hand intertwined with his.
He gazes down at you, and the hint of a smile crosses his face. “Beautiful. Fucking perfect, Y/N.”
You blush and attempt to catch your breath as he rids himself of his pants and aligns himself with your entrance. You cast a glance down, taking him in in all his glory. He rubs his tip through your folds and sighs at the contact, before leaning in to give you a kiss. 
“Tell me if it hurts and we’ll stop,” he promises. You nod, dismissing his worries. You sincerely doubt he could do anything to hurt you based on how amazing you’ve felt so far. And regardless, you trust him, trust the rigid self control he’s shown you all these months in the house together. 
You feel his tip prodding your entrance, then he sinks the first few inches in. You sigh at the sensation, tilting your head to steal a kiss. With that for motivation, he pushes in a little further, looking down at you with worry in his eyes. 
“Okay?” he asks.
You let out a breathless laugh, “Better than okay.”
You watch his face soften, and he pushes the boundary a bit further. You look down to watch him sink in, and are shocked to see he’s only halfway sheathed. You can already feel yourself beginning to stretch around him. The feeling is foreign, but not painful. 
When you look back up at him, his face is strained in an expression that nearly looks painful. He’s holding himself back, hesitating to keep a firm grip on that iron self control of his. You reach up to run your hand through his hair, catching his eyes. 
“I’m okay Azriel. I’m not going to break,” you reassure him. 
You can tell by his curt not that he doesn’t believe it. He advances another slow, languid inch, and you buck against him impatiently. 
“Azriel,” you level him a look.
He sighs. “I know. I just don’t want to hurt you. You’re still human and—”
“And I’m okay. This is okay. This is good.” You rotate your hips enjoying the pleasurable sensation it brings. He hisses through his teeth above you, and his hips jerk forward only slightly. You enjoy pushing him, enjoy making him lose control.
But there's still so much of him left, and you can’t stand the delicate line he’s walking. You want him fully, and you want him now. You reach behind him, grabbing his ass to shove him the rest of the way in. You gasp as he makes a strangled sound above you. There’s a hint of the pain he was so worried about, but it falls to the wayside as you're entirely overwhelmed by pleasure. 
“Fuck,” he groans as he finally starts to move freely. Slowly at first, then with increased urgency. He pulls his hips back and rolls them into you, hitting a spot so deep within you it feels like you’re one in the same. You watch as his control slips, and his hips snap into you, inching you backwards on the desk. 
“Yes, Azriel, yes,” you tell him as he picks up the pace, fucking you so hard the desk begins to bang against the wall and your eyes roll back in your head. Fucking Azriel is a sensation unlike any you’ve known before. He fills you perfectly, bending to place kisses along your breasts and collarbones. Holding your hips to slam into you at an impeccable pace. 
He shifts, looping his arms under your knees, and then there’s only air beneath you as he picks you up and presses you against the wall, fucking you into it. You gasp and weave your hands into his hair, tugging lightly. You feel his thrust getting quicker, jerkier, but before he comes he switches you again, bending you over the desk and fucking you from behind. You cry out at the change in angle, and your hands fly to the edge of the desk, holding tightly.
You feel him leaning over you as he places a kiss on your back. “This is what I wanted. Everytime I avoided you, everytime I pushed you away, it was because of how badly I wanted this.” He punctuates the last word with a particularly hard thrust and you cry out as you feel his hand intertwine with your hair. It all becomes too much, and you feel yourself approaching the edge again when he wraps a hand around to your front, finding your clit and sending you spiraling. He fucks you through it, steady, hard, barely giving you a chance to come down before his hips jerk and you feel him finish. He curses, seating himself fully inside you as he rides out his orgasm.
When he pulls out, you are panting and breathless and sated with pleasure. You turn around to see his shadows scattered across the room, filling every crevice and corner.
It’s then that you both hear footsteps coming down the hall. His eyes widen, and he hurriedly steps in front of you to block you from view, covering himself with his hands. 
Cassian round the corner, fury in his gaze. “What the fuck Azriel. The entire city is covered in shadows. Rhysand thinks you’re– Oh.” He stops in his tracks, cheeks turning pink as he lifts a hand to cover his eyes. 
“Cassian?” Azriel says, his voice strained.
“Yea?” His voice sounds choked in his throat.
“Get the fuck out.” 
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