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mattslolita · 21 days

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hi bae its aid. ok I NEED NEED A enemies to lovers type shit where matt is in a band and hes like hella rock boy omg stop im already shivering just typing this LMAOAOA ok and ik ur ass can deliver with the smut. i luh u

i wanna be your slave - m. sturniolo

in which ... you were so mesmerized by the lead guitarist of your friend's band — who you couldn't stand. and he had felt the same way — or did he? rockstar!matt x black!fem reader

warnings ; smut , oral ( female receiving ) , dom!matt , semi-public sex

"𝒊 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒐𝒅𝒚, 𝒔𝒐 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒄."

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰

matthew sturniolo.

you hated him, just couldn't stand him and his arrogance. but, you assumed that's what came with a guy who thought he was the shit just because he was in a band.

it didn't help that you found him extremely attractive too, and he played the fucking guitar to top it off — the only reason you knew these things is because even still, you were best friends with his older triplet brother nick and his friend madi, making the three of you a trio. nick was the photographer for his brother's band, and you and madi were basically the band's best friends.

you were currently backstage with madi, nick, chris, matt, and the band's vocal singer maxine at one of their gigs — the backstage area was spacious, containing all the bands equipment.

chris, madi, and maxine were in a debate about something whilst you sat with nick and conversed with him — matt had his attention on tuning his guitar, a cigarette at the end of his lips, and every few minutes you'd glance over at him to see the way his ring clad fingers plucked at the strings. he looked so focused as his gaze never left the guitar.

"y/n!" nick said, tapping you lightly.

"huh?" you said, snapping back into reality. upon realizing you zoned out, your eyes widened as you turned back to nick. "sorry."

nick raised an eyebrow skeptically and was about to start speaking again until the band's manager walked into the backstage area. "alright, you guys are on in ten. you ladies need to leave now."

nick sighed and pouted at you playfully, and you pouted back. "don't worry, we'll be back as soon as y'all finish!"

"or you can stay gone," matt's voice says sarcastically, his eyes finally fixated on you as he shrugs to you mockingly.

"boy, you wish you could get rid of me that easily," you snorted at him with an eye roll, standing up and crossing your arms over your chest.

it caused matt's eyes to shift down to your cleavage area, as your outfit was pretty revealing considering the way your top did little to hide your breasts and your leather skirt had nearly showed your lacy blue thong you wore underneath.

you rolled your eyes at the way he shamelessly had roved over your body, licking his lips as he did so. taking the cigarette out of his mouth, he put it in the ashtray and dumped it, then stood up to stretch and you could get a clear view of his happy trail.

you looked away before he could catch you staring and followed madi who was walking outside towards where the stage area was.

being that you were the best friends of the band, you and madi were able to secure spots in the front row, where the band would be easily visible.

you had both settled there as the lights dimmed, signaling that the show was about to start. madi nudged your shoulder excitedly, and you giggled at her enthusiasm as people began cheering for them.

the lights were now all the way dim as chris, matt, and maxine came onto the stage — however, your eyes find themselves fixated on matt as he grins whilst holding onto his guitar.

the dim lighting makes his skin look an eerily glowy purple color as you admire the way his muscles flex underneath his wife beater tank top, his black jeans glistening in the light due to the chains that dangle from them. the horse chain around his neck swing slightly as he begins playing his guitar, his ring clad fingers strumming over the chords rythmetically.

you're so mesmerized by the way his fingers move over the guitar you don't see the way that his eyes have found yours as he plays the notes — you inhale sharply as you look up to meet his icy blue gaze, and his lips contort into a content smirk which causes your heart rate to increase.

it's as if only you and him are in the moment, as both of your gazes are unwavering — you're surprised that you haven't looked away, but his gaze keeps you locked in and you feel it beginning to suffocate you as he licks his lips and gives you a once over.

you feel guilty for not even paying attention to the way chris is going insane on the drums or the way maxine's beautiful vocals carry out throughout the club. you've almost forgotten about madi's presence as well, as she was recording them ( which you should've been doing ).

as the song comes to a closing, maxine steps back as matt suddenly takes the center of the stage to play his guitar solo — nick mentioned it when you were talking backstage, but due him already being on your mind you didn't even comprehend it.

sweat beads formed on his forehead as it creased, whilst he slightly bopped his head up and down while he strummed the chords — out of her peripheral vision you could see the other girls in the crowd foaming at the mouth over him, causing you to frown slightly.

his brown locks bounced against his forehead as he lifted his head back up, his gaze finding yours once more as he finishes the last notes — a long, final strum of the guitar as he maintained eye contact with you sent you over the edge.

you needed him.

chris, matt, and maxine came to the center of the stage and bowed, waving and saying their goodbyes to everyone as they all applauded the band.

they exited the stage, and you found your eyes traveling to see where matt had went off to so quickly. "oh my gosh, they did so amazing!"

"uh huh," you said, turning to madi before she got too suspicious, a smile forming onto your face, "that was fucking amazing."

"girl," madi grinned, a small giggle escaping her lips as she nudged your shoulder, "you know i saw how matt was looking at you, right?"

"what?" you say, your eyes widening as you both slowly make your way backstage again.

"y/n, he was clearly looking at you almost the entire time," madi pointed out. "i swear you both are so oblivious."

you both had once again successfully made it backstage, and you almost lost your breath when the first face you saw was matt's — his eyes were trained on yours and you could feel a wetness pool underneath your skirt.

"i'm gonna go use the bathroom," you tell nobody in particular, quickly exiting the room.

you rush to the bathroom, grateful that there was no line, and quickly shut it behind yourself as you looked in the mirror — unfortunately, the door opened and you whirled around, being met with matt and his signature smug smirk as he reached behind him and locked the door.

before you were able to get a word out, he caged you against the sink, both of his arms on it as your ass was pressed firmly against the sink.

he smashed his lips onto yours, and you immediately melted into his hungrily, having been waiting for this the entire night. your hands find the back of his neck as his arms wrap around your waist, slowly inching their way down to your ass, giving it a squeeze.

you gasp into the kiss which grants him access to slip his tongue inside, as you pull you ever so closer — a moan escapes your lips as the sensation causing him to smirk against your lips.

not breaking the kiss his hand travels to the side of the waist and down slowly until they reach the hem of your skirt. you whimper as he sinks his hand inside, rubbing his thumb against your thong.

"matt..." you breathe out, breaking the kiss.

"where do you want me, sweetheart?" he rasps against your neck, beginning to leave kisses there. one finger goes under your underwear as it grazes where you need him most, "...here?"

"please," you beg him, looking up at him with lustful eyes, his eyes darkening at the sight and sound of you.

he quickly pulls your skirt down leaving you in the blue thong, his lustfilled gaze hungry as he eyes you up and down — he leaves more kisses on your neck, slow and sensual as he dips his fingers into your underwear, lightly rubbing on your aching clit.

"fuck, don't tease me," you breathe out, a smirk residing on his face.

"didn't plan on it, baby," he says.

without warning, one finger delves into your folds as you feel the tension finally start to alleviate when it enters inside of you.

"fuckk..." you moan out, throwing your head back at the feeling, giving him more access to suck on your neck, a dark purple mark now covering the brown skin there.

"you like the way i touch you, angel?" he whispers in your ear, speeding his movements up.

"y-yes, matt," you whine out, biting your lip to suppress that so desperately threatened to escape your throat.

"yeah, wore this pretty little thong for me, didn't you?" matt continues, inserting another finger causing a lewd moan to escape your throat, "knew i'd wanna be inside you after seeing this."

"matt, fuck, keep going," you moan, his fingers speeding up.

the squelching of your wet cunt vibrated off the walls and you were sure by now someone could hear what was happening — matt's movements inside you never ceased and you could feel that band tightening in your stomach.

"m' so close," you whined out, gripping his shoulder to steady yourself, feeling your legs go weak.

"yeah?" matt says, leaving another kiss on the right side of your neck, "give it to me, angel."

the band in your stomach snaps and you release all over his fingers, a moan leaving your mouth as you do so — with a grin he takes his fingers out of you and turns you around, licking his fingers clean as he look at you through the mirror.

"let me take these off, yeah?" matt asks and you nod your head and bite your lip as he hurriedly removes your blue thong and throws them to the side.

he quickly undoes his pants and slides them to the side, along with his boxers — his cock springs free from its confines, the tip a pretty but angry pink color as it leaks with precum.

matt drags his tip against your still wet cunt slowly, lubricating it in your juices, causing a moan to fall past both of your lips — you throw your head back as he enters you slowly, letting you adjust to his size before he starts to move.

"mm, yes baby, right there," you moan out, his hips snapping back and forth as he thrusts into you from behind.

"fuck, you're so tight," matt grunts, one hand coming up under your shirt to pinch your nipples causing you to whine. "you like when i fuck you like this, don't you, pretty girl?"

"feels so good," you moan, his thrusts speeding up.

"such a good girl, taking me from behind," matt praises, his other hand holding onto your waist as his cock repeatedly hits your cervix just the way you like.

you feel your second orgasm approaching again, and quickly. "m' gonna cum again, baby."

"i'm close too, angel," matt moans out, "hold it till i say so."

the pace of his thrusts are relentless as his cock repeatedly abuses your cunt — they start to get sloppy which lets you know he's close. he begins leaving sloppy kisses along your neck, sucking harshly on a different spot making another purple bruise on your brown skin yet again. marking his spot.

"fuck, let me cum in this pussy gorgeous," matt grunts and you let out an inaudible noise to let him know he can.

you feel his cum shoot inside of you, painting your walls a creamy color as a lewd moan of your name slips past his lips which causes your orgasm to wash over you as well, your juices mixing with his own.

coming down from your high he pulls out of you as you both catch your breath.

matt looks around for something to clean up with, finding a towel on a rack as he walks over to you with a grin whilst cleaning your legs. "so, how'd you like the show?"

"beside you eye fucking me the entire time, i enjoyed it," you shrugged, a smirk adorning your features.

"oh, but you got what you wanted, didn't you?" matt smirks back, presses a kiss to your lips as he throws the towel in the trash, handing you your underwear.

you slip them on quickly along with your skirt, washing your hands afterward — matt was also now fully dressed as well and before you could try and leave he stops you in your tracks.

"i'll leave first, try not to leave too fast after," he says and before you object, he's already gone and closing the door behind him.

you roll your eyes, but a small smile graces your features at the memory of what the both of you had just done.

lil💌

this should've been out MONTHS AGO😭😭 she's finally here though, hope y'all fw this🫦

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#sturniolo triplets #matthew sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #smutty smut smut #the sturniolo triplets #the sturniolos #poc reader #rockstar! matt sturniolo

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slowdownurdoingfine · 2 months

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Okay sooo I’ve got a Joel Miller fic on the back burner… but before I post I wanna get a feeler for how people would feel about it!!

So it switches through time periods (and bonus joel pov!), and the reader is a really famous country music star. By the time the outbreak hits shes kinda faded into obscurity (or that stage where famous musicians stay in pop culture but people don’t really listen to their music)… and essentially, and don’t cringe, reader and Joel happen to be going on the same journey to Jackson, Wyoming. And it’ll mostly be Jackson!Joel…. But I don’t wanna spoil anything so i won’t say anything more.

I will, though, give a snippet. (! PLEASE NOTE AND IDK WHY I DID THIS BUT I KINDA LIKE THIS: Belle is the stage name to the reader, and in the flashbacks I use 3rd pov (she blah blah) and in the present I use first pov (you blah blah) anyways. Be mean or judgemental but here’s u gooo

—

Fucking.

Taylor Swift.

Of fucking course.

She had a few years on her but still, fucking Taylor Swift? Picking her nails and brushing her blown-up hair out of her face, the swing of the guitar hits her ears almost too hard. It was overwhelming.

“Belle?” Her manager sitting next to her pushes through his lips quickly, forceful and strained.

She turns to him and his lips prick slightly, a slap in the wrist reminding her to maintain her facial expressions. Soft, but full of joy. Youthful and light. His words circled her thoughts spinning so fast it almost made her dizzy. Her hands fumble to pick the chain around her neck, gold and dainty, clearing her mind almost like a breath of fresh air.

The dust in her lungs makes her cough in only the way Nashville can in June. She has to turn her head away from the performance from the artist section, which allows much too of a close-up look.

“Billy, I need to step out.” It comes out before it even hits her head, drawl thick in her throat. She can see the question rising in his eyes, after years of working with him she just knows, but chooses to ignore it. Boots scuffing the ground she passes her way through the hot metal bars and serious stagehands to the freedom that comes with the smoking area. She lights her cigarette and pulls up her phone.

June 7th, 2013

She decided to never perform at another Country Music Festival at that very moment.

—

September 26th, 2013

The worst part of realizing you're no longer who you used to be, is when others begin to realize it too.

The pen rocks back and forth in her hand, trying to make sense of the line. She’s sitting in a limo outside a recording studio in Washington, DC where she created her first album. A country wonder, the sweetest voice with the most soul crushing lyrics. Her soft twang and breathy voice made the studio love her even more. It used to flow for her, it used to click. Now she can’t write a genuine line to save her career. Which evidently, is failing.

She slaps the notebook close, eyes turning up towards Billy who's on his phone pretending not to wait for her to give him something new.

“Nothing new, honestly Bill. My brain is just mushed up.” She hates it, but he shows no signs of mirroring that feeling. He just nods quickly, his sharp suit a little too tight around his wrists, clicking off his phone. He does notice though that, though. She does too.

“I didn’t have time to buy a new one.” He chirps out unbuttoning his pressed black blazer shifting uncomfortably in his seat, choosing to not push her for a moment. It makes her laugh, partially out of relief for the way her manager is still her closest friend.

“You’ve just been drinkin’ too much beer.” She starts, ringing her hands down her designer dress from two seasons ago.

“I’ve been eatin’ too much crab. It’s Baltimore, with the old bay.” He says then looks at her. It takes her back to when they both could afford to support their lives. They both just laugh.

She hated this, and when she was younger and more fresh eyed she would blaze a damn trail if this was presented to her. An impromptu performance at the White House with the president to uplift whatever political statement needed pushing - something to catch headlines, erase any world news. When she started off, and even to a degree still now, nothing else mattered but her music. That’s what got her here in the first place, outspoken to a point where she was even blacklisted from the most prestigious award shows after the release of her second album. But now in her early 30’s it's seemed as though the world had moved on. People didn’t seem to care about what she had to say, they just wanted to hear blank statements that meant nothing to be able to avoid the world around them. Or maybe, she was bitter. They had something she didn’t, something she over the past 10 years had given up for her career. Motivation, joy, or simply put; a life. She had made a bad decision, ran out of money, and signed her likelihood away to some big-name big-shot office. Nothing was hers anymore, not truly. So here she was: on the way to something her 25 year old self would not only despise, but reverently hate.

The limo ride there was alright, bit too bumpy and made it hard for her to gulp down the fizzy lukewarm bottle of champagne in the back of the limo. With the aid of bubbles allowing her to actually move her body and try to block this memory out she’s out of the car, shaking hands and greeting politicians in a breeze. So fast that by the time she stepped on stage to perform the national anthem she didn’t even remember how exactly she had got up there. The first few notes swell in her ears, she takes a deep breath ready to do what she does best, put on a show, cringing when the first few notes hit the air. Men standing close by her, sharp suits with walkie-talkies blasting loud enough to take over the whole room suddenly swarmed surrounding the president. Talking with urgency. Her eyes turned to meet Billy’s blue ones in the crowd, a question of should I stop? in them… before it all happened. It all unfolded right in front of her eyes too quickly to comprehend.

Damn her delayed flight or fight skills, she musta softened along the way on one of her worldwide tours. Soon she was being ripped away from the microphone, the band, the stage, Billy, and in a flurry of secret service she was crowded to an elevator which went down….

Down…

All the way to the bottom.

—

October 12th, 2023

Fuck.

I’m hungry.

You hated Iowa. You also hated how your map crumbles in your hands. You used to have a book with pages on pages of maps hidden cleverly within your brown backpack. That was before, when there was hope for everyone. This is the present. Hope is a laughable feeling. As the leaves crunch under your heavy boot a dilapidated highway sign peaks your interest. Maps Of The World. Maybe there is hope, afterall. Funny. Ducking back into the trees along the side of the road you make a note to turn at the next exit.

The store is dusty and rummaged through, obviously. That fact doesn’t stop the cough that enters your lungs as soon as you shove the door open. Fanning the particle filled air in front of your face, quick eyes land on a shelf of US maps which remain mostly untouched. Score. Walking over on the balls of your feet, your eyes crinkle when you step on a newspaper covered slab on the floor. Stopping for a moment, then ducking down to your knees and pushing your rifle out of the way, you look at the spot. It sounds almost hollow, like a travelingers hiding spot. You consider for a moment, then look towards the door like a person is about to walk through. You wait a long moment out of pure precaution. Then fan the newspaper away and grab your knife out of your boot, sliding the blade between the board and twisting up. To your surprise it gives and reveals a compartment. You just can’t believe your luck. Almost greedily you push the tile away and stare in awe. A pack of bullets. A handgun. Some beef jerky. It almost makes you cry. Zipping your bag you swipe the bullets and the jerky. Debating for a moment if to take the gun you hear light voices outside. Few minutes away, tops.

Quickly and as quietly as you can you slide the board and the newspaper back, zipping up your bag and hauling ass to your feet to grab a map and leave. Guess the owner was coming back to re-up, no way someone random would wind up there. Well, other than you. The two voices get louder as you hear the feet stop and a gun load. The door being open is a bad omen, you suppose. You slip out the back window which luckily leads into a dense forest, and you dash into the lush green trees finding refuge behind a patch of large grown out boulders and greens.

The logical part of your brain is screaming for you to run but the human part is telling you to stay and manically watch the havoc you caused unfold. Plus, it’s not like you’ve got anything better to do.

“Godamnit!” You hear a man shout, voice laced with a thick accent. Texan, you’d recognize your home state anywhere.

“At least they left the gun.” A younger voice calls out. From the large windows you can see them. A young girl, no older than 14 with a maroon jacket and beat up converse, Her brown hair was pulled up into a ponytail, backpack with keychains swinging. Behind her an older man comes up, beard patchy with salt-and-pepper hair, guff and hardened. You can’t look away from him, eyes glued onto his flannel and matching rifle with yours. He turns and you swear he sees you but then his eyes keep moving. Checking the area seemingly unconsciously and you can tell he's danger. Something you would write about in your songs. You let that thought wash over you as he turns and are met with his broad back. You should probably leave. Knees cracking you stand and continue the long journey to Jackson, Wyoming.

In another life, mystery muse.

—

K BYE

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #tlou hbo #tlou #pedro pascal #joel tlou #joel x reader #tlou fanfic #Joel miller fanfic #pedro pascal x reader

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certifieddilfenjoyer · 8 months

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In Plain Sight - an interactive Gus FringxGN!Reader

============================ How does it work? At the end of every chapter, you will be presented with a hyperlink, disguised as a dialogue or action option, which will then lead you to a chapter following your choice and so on and so forth :)) Please let me know what u think (please don't sh#! on me choosing the xGN! instead of xBoy, I wanna enjoy my story as well lol) ============================ INFO: ============================ Yes, there are going to be smut chapters involved at some point. You can expect tags like: (MDNI!!!)

Domination, degradation, submission, power imbalance, sexual tension, hate fuck, choking, bondage, recording the deed, manhandling, hair pulling, dragging across the floor, Gus being the only receiver, etc etc.

The course of chapters, so smutty stuff as well, depends on your choices. If you read through the fanfic once, you can always come back to this main page and try other options! :D

The action is happening during BCS, not necessarily Breaking Bad (but I so badly wanna do something with the boxcutter, well, we will see), so you can expect appearances or mentions of Lalo, Nacho, etc. (but I don't like them so it's Gus focused) and there's gonna be Mike! <3 Now, the fanfic is not fully finished, so if you don't see the hyperlink at the bottom, it simply means that I haven't added the chapters yet. Please be patient <3 <3 ============================= UNFORTUNATELY it turns out that Tumblr does not support my idea completely as every time I edit a post, the URL of the said post changes which is incredibly bad as the more I write the more chapters I'd need to edit each time. Because of that I have moved this project to my blog that I created specifically for this and future x Reader projects: https://xrdr.blogspot.com/

You adjust the headphones in your ear and feel your heart sink as you fight to recover balance on your bicycle. You take a deep breath of fresh, moist air with a heavy scent of rain and turn the handle bar to the left. You pass through a big rain puddle and speed up, allowing your bike to gain momentum as you continue down the road. In the distance, a big glowing logo casts a cone of yellow hue on the glossy street. You feel your heart speed up as you try to go through all the possible questions that employers usually ask during an interview.

As you turn your bike to the parking lot of the fast food restaurant - Los Pollos Hermanos - you anxiously check if your pant legs got dirty. You sigh with relief and drive your bike to the bicycle stand and secure it there with a key chain. You brush your hands across the fabric of your clean, light blue shirt and enter the building. It's most deserted, probably due to the bad weather and the late afternoon hour.

You nod at the employees, currently taking care of the kitchen and the dining area. They nod back and one of them appears in front of the counter, waiting to take your order. You take a quick glance at the person and suddenly you become hyper-aware of all of his facial features. You want to inspect his entire face, but you know damn well it would be weird and most likely make him uncomfortable.

'Hello, I am here for the job interview. I was told that I will be speaking to the manager named Monica.'

The man smiles at you in the most heart-warming way you've seen in your life.

'Monica is unable to attend due to personal reasons. I will be taking over your interview process.'

'I see,' you nod and offer him your hand. 'Y/N.'

'Gustavo Fring,' he introduces himself and takes your hand into his. You can feel the strength resonating off his body and the hard texture of his palms. 'Nice to meet you.'

The name rings a bell immediately. You remember that Monica introduced the Los Pollos Hermanos brand to you over the phone and his name was mentioned at least once.

'Nice to meet you too, sir. Are you the owner of the food chain?'

'Yes.'

'Oh, I'm sure you're busy then. If Monica called in to cancel, I can be rescheduled as well,' you suggest.

'That's not going to be necessary, but I do appreciate your consideration,' he gives you a smaller smile, still just as warm as the first one.

You respond with the same expression and look to the side a moment later, feeling butterflies in your stomach. You blame it on the thrill of the new job interview and look back at the man. His eyes seem like an endless void, which immediately sinks you in.

'Do you need any more time?' he asks.

'No, but I'd like to wash my hands first,' you inform him and look around the restaurant. He lowers his gaze onto your face, observing you for a moment with a lingering smirk.

'It's over there,' Gustavo says after a few seconds, extending his arm to his right side.

You nod and turn on your heel, then go to the bathroom. As you catch your reflection in the mirror, you notice a small blush on your face.

'Oh my God,' you roll your eyes and turn on the tap, then wash your hands with soap.

When you return to Gustavo, he leads you to his office at the back of the building. The room is fairly small, with a small window above his desk. There is almost no sunlight sinking inside the office and it has a weirdly hostile vibe to it, even though the owner looks like nothing else but a sweetheart.

'Please, take a seat.'

You sit down at the chair and adjust yourself in the seat, then straighten your back, while Gustavo sits on his chair in front of you, immediately taking on a perfect posture. You can feel your heartbeat speed up as he opens up the lid of his laptop and you can see a small reflection of your resume in his thin-framed glasses.

'Let's begin, Y/N.' You nod enthusiastically and he gives you an encouraging smile as his eyes come back to yours. 'I don't usually review resumes of candidates without any previous experience in gastronomy.'

A slight hint of worry flashes through your face, immediately noticed by Gustavo.

'Can you tell me why you decided to make an exception?'

He makes a pause and observes you for a while. The single ray of the sun, sinking through the window behind him, falls onto his neck, creating a shadow of his figure, which is reaching all the way across the wooden desk towards your clasped palms.

'We are in need of employees. We are planning to expand to another restaurant soon and some of my employees from the restaurant in which we are sitting are going to be transferred, as it is closer to their home address.'

'Congratulations on the expansion!' you throw in the comment.

'Thank you very much,' he responds. 'What made me accept your resume is the fact that you live near this area, but mostly it was the fact that I realized that you are a foreigner, correct?'

'Um, yes,' you are taken aback by his question and you mask your discomfort before it gets noticed. 'I came here from New Mexico.'

'I'm from Chile. I know how hard it is to get your first job here, that's why I decided to give you a shot,' he admits.

'That is so very kind of you,' you say openly.

Gustavo raises his hands and connects them in front of his chin.

'But hard or not, I am going to treat everyone equally, without giving anyone a head start.'

'Understandable.'

'Because you do not have any prior experience with customers, can you tell me, if perhaps at school or in other areas in your life, have you encountered a difficult situation, a conflict that you managed to solve?'

Even though before coming to the interview, you had multiple sessions of talking to yourself in front of a mirror, preparing possible answers for usual interview questions, you cannot help but feel a little sting of stress at the question. Your mind presents you with a flash of an image, a painful memory of a rainy night and the car lights aimed straight at your face. There is an older man standing in front of you and a much younger one to his side.

'Y-yea,' you answer and clear your throat. 'Sorry. I remember solving a conflict in my classroom, where three of the top students wanted to take the responsibilities of being the class president. I suggested a class vote to clear the confusion. The other time I also stopped a fight between two classmates.'

'How exactly did you achieve that?'

'They were arguing about some girl. I went in between them,' you respond and see his eyebrows rise slightly. 'I know, a risky move, but it was worth it. They cooled down a bit, didn't hit each other and I just listened to both of their stories. It turned out - I don't remember the context now - but it turned out that they misunderstood each other.'

Both of the stories are made up, but Gustavo Fring doesn't have to know that. He doesn't need to be made aware of the fact that your cartel family never allowed you in a public school and that you are home-schooled. He also shouldn't be made aware of your fake ID that you used for your resume.

'How would you deal with a customer who reports incorrectly prepared food? For example undercooked chicken wings?'

You look to the side, then let your eyes wander across the wall and up to the ceiling, as you make a slow, quiet humming noise, thinking about the answer.

'Do I see the food that this imaginary customer reports?'

'Let's assume that in this particular scenario, you do.'

'Ok, so I wouldn't check the recipe, because I can see the plate, so I ask them nicely what is wrong with the food.'

''It's disgusting' - that's what the customer is saying,' Gustavo responds with a shadow of a smile on his face.

''I really want to help you in this situation, but I need some more information, please. Is it not to your liking in taste or is the quality disappointing and how?' that's what I would ask, or something similar,' you clarify.

'The quality is disappointing, because the meat is partially raw.'

'I am very sorry to hear that, would you like to receive a refund of your chicken wings order or a special offer for our menu?' you respond, choosing your words carefully. You look for validation on his face, but it is unreadable.

'Would you not try the chicken wings yourself to verify their honesty, Y/N?' he asks after a moment. I would or I wouldn't

#interactive #interactive fiction #fanfic #gustavo fring #breaking bad #x reader #gn reader #gus fring #gus #mike ehrmantraut #hector salamanca #lalo salamanca

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honeyglz · 1 year

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Fighter!Izuku Headcannons !! A/N- Goin on holiday so heres some fighter!Izuku crumbs for ya. Also this is vry not proof read. So ya. Au- No quirk Reader- Gn (fem in mind while writing) Disclaimer- I do not own any of the characters aside from Y/N/ the reader Warnings- Violence, Fighting (duh), Me not knowing what a fight thingy is but just go with it, OOC (possibly). Lmk If I missed any !! -!!-

Thinking about Fighter!Izuku who literally is in constant need of medical care

Doesnt matter what he's doing he needs some soft of bandage's

Esp after a fight

Soft skin of his lips busted open with a gash as he tries his vry best not to move while you patch him up

Fighter!Izuku who goes underground fighting with the name Deku out of spite to his past bully (Cough Katsuki Cough)

Fighter!Izuku who will bash down grown men for fun but tear up at disney movies.

Fighter!Izuku who comes back to your small shared apartment with another bag of cash throwing it on the table before grabbing you and pulling you flush against him.

Fighter!Izuku who never lets you come to fights because he's scared you'll veiw him diffrently

Fighter!Izuku who goes to his day job at the office with his packed lunch because he knows you want him to eat properly.

Pls tell him his scars r pretty.

Pls like fr Im not kidding.

Somtimes when he's alone he'll stare at them, wondering if you still like him with how many he has. :(

Fighter!Izuku who has a small metal chain with a tag, both your initials carved on it.

He took on extra fights to get it done for your anniversary .

Fighter!Izuku who once broke some poor guys arms because he ripped the chain off his neck and spat on it.

That guy never came back to fight.

Fighter!Izuku who gets upset when you work on his days off, literally holds you down until you pry him off.

Fighter!Izuku who one night coming out of the ring and into the car park spots you there. Bundled up from the cold night with a med kit and what looks to be a packed bento.

His heart stops.

Like ong it skips a few beats. Not in the good way.

He's covered in blood (mostly not his own) and his fist are raw as well as alot more wounds and bruises. It had been a bad fight, and he had won but now he was almost wishing he didnt.

Had you watched? Were you here to say you were disgusted with him??

God pls send this man some comfort he's contemplating just running.

It's not until you call his name that he meets your eyes shamefully. Eye's glossy because he doesn't want to break up :( He rlly loves u pls.

Tears start to run a little before you ask why to which he almost dejectedly explains that he gets if you wanna break up with him.

He almost crys more when you pull him in for a soft kiss rubbing his beefy shoulders that are trembling from the cold (and because he rly rly doesnt want to break up)

Fighter!Izuku who is now sitting on the hood of his old ass car while he gets patched up.

Anyways after that yall went home and chilled.

You confessed that you had known where the place had been for awhile now. And when he didn't text back or come home on time you got worried.

He's even more whipped now (is that possible?)

He takes the next few days off to fully heal and spend time with u.

Fighter!Izuku who is cuddling on the couch with you when you suddenly look up at him. Much to his concern.

He watches as you look deep in thought before you speak.

"Take me to see one of your fight's"

Oh shit.

He sits up abit trying to explain that its not a good idea, he looks abit pale at the idea but you both know its a talk you have to have.

You take his hands and explain that you don't want to be in the dark about his job/Hobbies. Even if its abit.. graphic.

He sighs before agreeing only to joke saying he'll just have to work at the office from now on. You slap the back of his head and both get ready.

Him more mentally tbh.

Anyways you guys get there and he's not letting you out of his sight (Or arms).

Doesn't matter where you are. This place is dangerous and he needs to make sure your alright at all times.

That is until he has to get into the ring.

He ligit has 5 people watching you, all friends of his.

Ida (who works at Izuku's office and is watching u) was vry surprised to see you there, almost as much as you were seeing him.

Anyways he gets in the ring and starts his fight. Everythings going well until he notices your not with his friends. They're all looking around in a panic.

He panics running to the egde of the cage as he yells out to Ida who is still looking around.

Its not until his opponent elbows him in the back of the head that he realises he's still in a fight.

He tries calling it off but this mf just wont quit.

Izuku is about to climb out of the cage before he spots you. Next to his rival.

The masked blonde headed fuck has his arm around you as you keep shrugging him off clearly annoyed and unamused.

Izuku watches as you keep trying to reject him only for Dynamite to insist he's better than what ever loser your dating.

He watches even more painfully as he grabs your waist whispering something to you that makes you flush and pull away

What the actual fuck.

Izuku goes up to the side of the cage where you both are sitting and reaches through the gate pulling the blonds collar against the cage as he slams him into it.

Over. And over.

Izuku see's red.

Its not until his opponent slams a chair on the back of Izuku's head that he again is snapped out of it.

Izuku drops the blonde man as he stumbles abit, vision blurry as the crowd goes wild, the other guy already celebrating.

Izuku begins to black out slowly before he catches a glimpse of you.

His sweet perfect partner- Tackling security and yelling bloody murder to try get into the cage to help him. He witness you jump as the bouncers try to tame you down.

You call out his name and he locks eye's with you for a moment.

Your still fighting the guards, threatening them even.

He takes a shaky breath before he grabs the chair his opponent used. Bashing it against his opponents head, knocking the man out cold.

Everyone goes silent for a moment watching Izuku drops the chair and rushes to your side.

He envelopes you before giving you some space nervous for your reaction.

Its not until you gawk at how strong he is before pulling him in firmly, making sure a curtain red eye's fighter see's, that his nerves are eased.

Yep he loves you, but pls dont run off again he might die.

-!!-

A/N- Hope you enjoyed !! Request are open but I am going to be away for a few days so may be delayed. <3

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flutterskies-hd · 2 days

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BO(U)ND - PART 1

Chapter. 1

Fluttershy is about as normal as anyone could be as a disabled 9-year-old girl with low vision and physical scarring all over her body, it’d earned her weird looks, but it was nothing compared to the loneliness she felt when her first friend moved away in 2nd grade. In 3rd grade, she’d had no friends at all, instead she opted to spend recess latching to anyone she could, but they never liked her, she was far too “jumpy”.

Home wasn’t much better; during the weeks she stayed with her mother, a manic-depressive psychopath who did nothing but waste money on expensive clothing instead of food, her mother was a leach, even to Fluttershy. Her Mother used her constantly for venting and always tried to force her to cry. When Fluttershy wouldn’t cry, her mother would resolve to say she’s a bad mother, knowing that always got to her and made her cry.

Starting her 5th grade year’s first week, Fluttershy was simply happy to be seeing her friends again on this Friday morning and this time, even made a new friend, a girl named AJ. AJ was a year older than her, quiet and reserved, preferring to draw and watch anime rather than going anywhere but AJ loved her family a lot, so Fluttershy understood why she’d want to be home so much. She breathed in the calm September air once off the bus and went to the wall where AJ stood, though it was a small school building, she enjoyed this school much more than the one she had no friends in, that was large and scary.

“Good morning.” It took AJ a second to grasp that she was being spoken to, “Morning.” she said flatly and the two girls rounded the corner, Fluttershy sat and AJ crouched across from her, the gravel was warm on Fluttershy’s thighs and the sun beating down on her face was relaxing but then she moved to her knees, “Wanna talk about anime?” She asked, since Fluttershy was trying more now to get into anime, she figured AJ would be a good person to get the basics from, “Sure,” AJ said, Fluttershy could never figure her out, who she was or what her motives were, though she didn’t have much time to guess. “Can I talk with you guys?” A girl appeared, making Fluttershy crane her neck, ‘A new friend!’ she thought, standing to meet the gaze of the tall girl with long rainbow coloured hair which Fluttershy thought was so pretty.

“I’m Fluttershy!” She took the tall girl's hand, who nervously shook it, her hand was wonderfully soft and pale, the touch made Fluttershy hesitate to pull her off hand from the other girl. “What’s your name?” The tall girl looked flustered and a little scared as she pulled her hand away, “Rain...” Fluttershy didn’t catch the last of her mumbling, “Uh, what was that?” The girl just mumbled again but she no longer needed her to say it, “Rainbow Dash!” another girl shouted, and Rainbow Dash groaned, seemingly losing her shy and quiet personality in an instant. “Who’s that?” Fluttershy asked, in the distance, she could barely see the girl who came running before her attention was snatched by Rainbow Dash running off.

Fluttershy turned and almost took off with her but quickly checked in with AJ, “You okay if I go?” she asked quickly, earning a shrug from AJ. She ran, following Rainbow to the corner, a dead end with a chain link fence greeted them both. “That’s Gilda.” Rainbow Dash answered her, “She thinks she’s my friend because I know nobody else here.” she scoffs, “It’s fucking stupid.” Fluttershy was shocked, she’d never heard that language from anyone but adults. “You swear?” she asked in disbelief and Rainbow nodded, hands on her hips. “Yeah? If anyone tries to get me in trouble for it, I just lie and say I didn’t do it,” she said proudly, she was only seeming more intriguing and cooler by the second, “That or I just say I said something different.” She shrugs, the bell rings for morning classes to start. Fluttershy follows obediently behind her, watches her brush off Gilda when she tries to speak then, they enter the school. “This is my class.” Rainbow mentions.

“Will I see you at recess?”

“I... guess?”

The two girls parted ways in the hallway. Fluttershy didn’t pay attention all throughout her morning classes, she was much too focused on Rainbow Dash, she liked that name, her face, how soft her skin was, she liked how edgy and cool she appeared, her disregard for rules and authority was so appealing to the young girl, she hoped so much that they’d see each other again at recess and that she wouldn’t lose track of her like she did at the old school with so many people. She wouldn’t let it happen again.

By recess, Fluttershy changed her shoes and ran outside, finding Rainbow Dash looking lost. “Rainbow Dash, right?” The taller girl turned to face the younger, “Yeah...” Rainbow scratched her arm, “So what things do you like?” Fluttershy asked, walking with Rainbow Dash toward a long dirt path filled with pebbles and slightly larger rocks. Rainbow clicked her tongue, “Have you ever heard of the Wonderbolts?” she asks, Fluttershy wracks her brain but shakes her head, “Well, it’s awesome,” Rainbow begins, “They’re a band and my favourite member is Surprise, I have a massive crush,” Fluttershy thought that was a strange name for a boy, “...on her. Though she’s super underrated.” Rainbow finished. “She?” Fluttershy asked, “Yeah, she. I’m a lesbian.”

Lesbian was a word that Fluttershy had only heard once or twice when her mother made strange comments about women who seemed intimate with other women. “I like girls.” Rainbow narrowed it down, “Actually, just Surprise but you get what I mean.” Fluttershy thought to herself, on one hand she’d gotten Rainbow Dash to open to her and on the other, Fluttershy was starting to question how she felt when she first saw Rainbow Dash. “I think you’d like Blaze.” Fluttershy committed the name of the band and the member to memory for later when she’d be at her grandmother’s place. It wasn’t long for the bell signaling the end of the 20-minute break was up and afternoon classes began. Once insisde to take off her shoes, Fluttershy mumbled some analytics to herself, “If she likes girls...and I’m a girl and I like her, maybe she might like me too.” The thought of it made her sick in a good way. As usual, she didn’t pay the slightest attention in class, focused solely on her new friend’s interests.

By the time Fluttershy had got off the bus and toward her grandmother’s house, she greeted her dad and her grandma, she grabbed her tablet that her dad kept, right away she searched for the band on YouTube. She listened to one song, then another, trying to get used to the music. There were all sorts of genres to pick from that the band sang, there seemed to be no consistency with a lead singer which made it easy to enjoy each individual member. Fluttershy listened to the music until she had to sleep, excited for school again to see Rainbow Dash.

#flutterskies-hd #flutterskies #fluttersky #mlp #mlp horror #mlp humanized #mlp human au #mlp humanisation #mlp rainbow dash #mlp fluttershy #mlp applejack #fanfic #fan fiction #mlp fanfic #mlp g4 #flutterdash #bo(u)nd mlp

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ihatebnha · 2 years

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I wasn't going to send this, I typed it a few times and deleted it, but: Shoto, Deku, Bakugou, shinso + Gojo +Yuuji and megumi (gojo gift ofc) they all wear thin gold/silver chains on their neck, well you already know where this is going, imagine the chain hanging above your head while... WHY IS THIS SO SEEEXY?!?!??

bestie, you can always send me things!!! Even if I can’t always get to them, nothing makes me happier… so thank you for sending THIS🥺

God, though… you know what I almost love even more??? The thought of the boys taking you to the jewelry store with them so you can pick which one you think will look best.

You try to argue and say they’d look good in anything, but nah. If it’s your face it’s gonna be hanging over, you should be able to choose the view. Whichever one you like best, and then maybe they can even get a little something matching for you, too. An anklet they can kiss when your feet are on their shoulders? A promise ring to remind you that they’re always yours… a body chain for under your clothes that they can kiss up and down…?

It’s not just about what’s smacking you in the face and how good they look, but that you’re in on it, too.

She’s my collar 🥰🥰🥰

#put nanami on this list too tbh #but omg… Shinso and Megumi… todoroki and DEKU and YUJI?????#kiri too… fuqq #I’m gonna bust I’m so sorry #also omg imagine you and them have a whole little jewelry drawer or box that you share #with all your favorite pieces in it #and every morning you look at it together and pick which things you should wear #which chain you like and which ring they wanna see u in #bc u know they keep their girls with lots of rings #and when they’re on missions you wear their chain for good luck #I’m so sorry I made this about shopping and not abt boinking #but UBFKDBTUDNDJF #a dream #ask #anon #caitie chats

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yaemona · 2 years

Text

modern ! childe headcanons

contents both sfw and nsfw, childe x f ! reader, mentions of semi-public sex/car sex, mentions of alcohol, cunnilingus, this is very stream of consciousness

a.n just a little something whilst i figure out what fic i wanna work on next. i have a ton of these for him specifically, it’s kinda crack and jokes but like also. . . i’m right. anyway ppl seem to like my modern takes so i thought i would share this. i hope it gives u a good laugh at the very least

minors and ageless blogs do not interact.

sfw

i’ll get this out of the way: he plays league of legends. you know he does. you can’t tell me i’m wrong.

we are off to a rocky start

he’s sporadic in nature, the way he takes care of himself follows that pattern

he works out pretty regularly, often going out on jogs at the asscrack of dawn before going to his classes. he manages a 3.5 ish range gpa but like

he puts a bunch of things off til very last minute and then suddenly he has 5 assignments due, two of which are papers and he is surviving off the raw adrenaline of having a deadline to meet

during finals there is not a single light on behind those eyes and u fear for his sanity

does he sleep? you genuinely do not know.

his thirst for the thrill of battle is translated directly as a thirst to play league for 15hrs straight and not leave his room

ah speaking of classes, his major is drumroll please

🥁🥁🥁

oceanography !

hear me out, this is more than just a clever incorporation of his fucking narwhal summons kind of

he visited an aquarium once as a young lad and his eyes lit up so bright and he had the biggest smile on his face

he just about lost his shit at the moon jelly tank

and in the tube you walk through where the fish and creatures are swimming above and all around you, god he felt like he was in some sort of fairytale

he takes his younger siblings to the aquarium nowadays either when he goes home for holidays or when they come to visit

i just realized the ocean is kinda like. . . a deep dark abyss. well. there you have it folks at least he didn’t fall into it ig

anywayyy he also very much does love fishing. he has tried to drag scara out on multiple occasions. scara refuses. thoma was keen though !

yes, modern ! thoma and childe are fishing buddies

there’s no good place to slot this in but he’s allergic to peanuts. idk he just is. i have nothing more to say on this matter. shrimp is on thin fucking ice but it doesn’t send him into anaphylactic shock so he is swallowing a bucket of bubba gump’s popcorn shrimp as we speak

percy jackson phase as a kid. has a lot of compartmentalized information about greek mythology now. he still finds it interesting and if it fits into a conversation he’s willing to go on about it for quite awhile

it is currently 10pm. your phone rings. it is childe. he’s 5 minutes away from your house, are you agreeing to going out to get slushees?

yes, of course you are!

cherry slushee with nerds is his go to

the friend who is always down for literally anything, and always invites you along to do whatever it is

no money? no problem, he’s paying for you. don’t try to fight him on it you’re not going to win he’s persistent

love language is gift giving

that really specific thing you mentioned wanting? he remembers. staring at an item in a store that you really do want, contemplating extra hard before ultimately setting it down? he’s buying it for you. he sees something while he’s out and about or perusing online that reminds him of you? he doesn’t even hesitate.

one item in particular he got you for one of your birthdays is a necklace

it’s a dainty little thing, you mutter something about being afraid to break it. he laughs.

“trust me, you won’t. they’re good quality. here, let me put it on you.”

childe can be quite clumsy at times, but his movements then were so careful and gentle as he clasped the necklace

it’s a lightweight chain adorned with a sand dollar pendant, it even came with a cheesy little message card

“you are bright, beautiful and one of a kind. the odds of knowing someone like you are one in a million. . . lucky me! wear your necklace as a reminder that i love you.”

and you do wear it, very often. the memory and the gift itself always put a smile on your face.

and he still gets giddy every time he sees it around your neck

anyway now i’ll remind you he plays league of legends and we’ll get back to that

he also plays valorant, that one is more so for fun and he’s constantly fucking around

he facetimes you often and sometimes he just has his phone propped up against something on his desk facing him while he’s queuing in valorant with friends

“who does he play val with?” im so glad you asked.

venti, itto, and hu tao.

respective agents they main: jett, brimstone/raze, and reyna

childe mains omen. just feel like he would.

venti is a mutual friend childe actually met through you

but the other two are online friends childe met in solo queues, and they exchanged discords after they just kinda hit it off

after a few times childe had you on facetime they complained enough to the point where childe just gave you the disc invite and added you to the call

and honestly. . . listening to the four of them is the funniest shit you’ve ever heard.

pity the poor soul who is solo queuing and ends up with them

childe has been known on multiple occasions to jokingly flirt with whoever it is

it’s even funnier when they flirt back or instigate it in the first place. you can’t hear the person obviously, but boy oh boy are the screams of the other three in both amusement and horror utterly hilarious

childe and venti are screaming at each other about how the other needs to stop sucking so back

“WHY ARE YOU YELLING AT ME THAT WAS ONE FUCKING ROUND IM LITERALLY TOP FRAGGING FUCK YOU!”

venti does it because of the amount of joy it brings him to piss childe off ( there’s a reason they don’t play league together anymore )

hu tao is giggling up a storm and itto’s trying to hold a conversation with you about your day as you’re crying from laughter

if i don’t move on from gamer ! childe now, i don’t think i ever will

childe is. . . a reckless menace. you think whoever granted him his driver’s license should probably be fired yet he’s never gotten a ticket

he’s safer when you’re in the car but he’s still playing speed racer. if you’re really frightened then he will drive the actual speed limit and be more cautious.

surprise! he can be a good driver

that’s nice hon but what about your safety

early morning trips to breakfast diners in your pajamas, most often after all nighters pulled or particularly sleepless nights

sleepovers that involve you two in the kitchen baking brownies at 3am and you two dance around while they’re in the oven

he’d try to jump on your back and have you give him piggy back rides, and damn near knocks you over with the sheer force he runs at you with alone

his spotify playlists are a mess he listens to literally everything

toxic by britney spears or kiss me thru the phone comes on through the aux in the car and he is giving a full performance

oh yeah speaking of which, i think he’d genuinely enjoy karaoke

he doesn’t take it too seriously, he’s there for the laughs and the food/drinks

extroverts will be extroverts

pleads at you with puppy dog eyes to sing breaking free from hsm

just give in, the smile on his face would be so worth it

nsfw

horny. like. always.

it does not take much to get him worked up and when he does he makes it ur problem too

he just skips past subtle cues, god forbid when you’re out in public

face buried in the crook of your neck, leaving hickies while you two are sitting in a corner; hand resting very high up on your thigh under the table, fingers dangerously close to brushing up against you

y’all have left some gatherings and gone home early

he has gotten quite . . .impatient a handful of times which has led to him fucking you in a few bathrooms and once in the car but like here’s the thing

childe is tall he’s got spindly limbs and the backseat of a car isn’t very spacious

so it was very clumsy and the two of you were doing a lot of giggling the entire time he still fucked ur brains out though

before you were in a relationship, y’all started out as fwb

he invited a few friends ( you included ) over for a small get together. drinking, games, what have you

childe, when drunk, is very touchy. and he already found you quite attractive while sober. put two and two together and welllll

you end up in a very heated makeout session after he’s dragged you to his room

friends passed out in the living room so you try not to make too much noise

you get very dirty looks from them the next morning

childe brought up the proposition of fwb and to be frank it was the best sex you’d ever had so you were keen

that went on for a couple of months

then, one morning, you woke up in his bed alone to the smell of pancakes?? waffles?? dunno but it smelled so fucking good

you get up, pull his shirt he’d been wearing the previous night over your head and walk out to see what’s up

god looking back on it now it seems like a scene out of a very cheesy romcom

the kitchen counter is a bit of a mess, but an organized one

and childe’s standing at the stove with the sleeves of the hoodie he’s wearing rolled up and in his boxers flipping a pancake over

sunlight is creeping in through the window and lights up the room in such a delicate way. . . and you feel a flutter in your chest

he notices you staring and flashes you a bashful smile it’s . . .different from how you’re used to seeing him, but it still feels like him

“ah, good morning! i wasn’t sure what you liked but . . .there’s some eggs and bacon, and a few pancakes already done, so go ahead and help yourself girlie.”

his freckled cheeks are flushed with the brightest pink, ginger hair unkempt from sleep and last night’s escapades

you walk up behind him and wrap your arms around his waist, planting a kiss against his shoulder blade

“morning,” you yawn.

he could get used to this.

you perch yourself on one of the empty countertops and watch as he finishes up, talking while he rinses the dishes in the sink, and come to the decision that the two of you want to try something more than your current relationship

and that’s that

yes he did eat you out on the kitchen counter afterwards what do you expect seeing you in just his shirt drove him crazy

#genshin childe #childe x reader #childe headcanons #childe imagines #childe smut #genshin smut #genshin headcanons #childe x reader smut

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jiminrings · 3 years

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just wanna say: stemkoo + yoongs redemption arc. yoongi finally acknowledging jungkook as a love interest to oc and accepting it and jungkooks kinda confused because what now? is he safe alone with yoongi? are they brothers? and yoongis just "yeah kid you're here now and I see you but I'd still give you a knuckle sandwich anytime if u even breath wrong next to my baby soulmate"

cold senior!y/n x stem major!koo masterlist :D

stem koo has a breakdown over driving alone for the first time, and it just so happens that yoongi's the only one there for him. alternatively, it's koo and yoongs' redemption arc :-)

warnings: mention and descriptions of a panic attack

jungkook will not cry

not right here, in an emergency bay that's just five meters away from a bustling gas station where there's a convenience store and a couple of food chains and cafés he can go to in order to clear his head

not right now, in his brand-new car that his parents excitedly bought for him once they caught the news that he's already obtained his driver's license. he's admittedly already used to a lofty lifestyle, but somehow guilt settled in when he remembers telling his parents at night, and the next morning, his dad's calling him to come out of his dorm to see such a big purchase they didn't think twice in buying

jungkook already drove before. countless of times!!

tried it the first three times in his hometown with his dad on the front seat and his mom at the back, a little amused yet more frantic because this is perhaps the most frustrated state he's put his parents in

he's also took 30 hours in driving lessons during break and the happiest that he's been during the whole time is the part wherein he gets home by foot, relieved that he doesn't have to shared a confined space with his instructor that's far too chatty and intimidating at the same time

most importantly, jungkook drove endlessly and ultimately learned from you, jin, and yoongi!! he remembered mentioning in passing that he doesn't have a driver's license yet and he could distinctly remembering the three of you arguing about who'd teach him first

of course it was you whom he picked first, and it became a driving lesson that racked immense pressure and comfort from him

you taught him how to properly control his gas and brakes and then did jungkook only learn that he's a little too heavy-footed with the pedals, mistakenly thinking that he should press his wHOLE foot instead of just atleast a fourth of it

he learned how to accelerate without making the car jump and brake without making a god-awful screech!! also learned how to pull up the handbrake with ease because his wrist's too tensioned the first time around

seokjin taught him how to turn and park smoothly. how to actually command the wheel without his hands getting wrung and just nailing commando with like tHREE maneuvers max!!! max!!!

also jin taught him (reluctantly) how to reverse while looking back and holding headrest of the front seat bc jungkook read from somewhere that people apparently (read: you) find it attractive

and well... yoongi?

yoongi taught him everything

jungkook was a lil scared when he realized that it was yoongi's turn to teach him, but surprisingly, and uh well nO offense to his parents and instructor and girlfriend and girlfriend's friend,, but yoongi is the best teacher he's ever had

he taught him how to actually drive-drive if that's supposed to explain everything

he taught him how to not grip the steering wheel a little too tight and heavy. to be relaxed enough that he drives his car and not the other way around, but not too relaxed that the car feels too light in his command

yoongi taught him how to overtake and counterflow when necessary and how not to be a push-over and let every car pass even if it's him who has the right of way

jungkook was taught how to not squirm and be shy with honking because it's literally tHERE to be used!! yoongi taught him not to cower when there's a huge 4x4 with the truck horn that's aiming to squeeze in between lanes and just drive like normal

he learned how he shouldn't trust the mirrors at all times because it's not the accurate depiction of how far he is from backing into a tree and instead, open the window to see it for himself

yoongi taught him about the gearbox so eASILY that jungkook almost cried in realization that he finally managed to comprehend it fully without feeling the need to search in between stops

...

yes, jungkook did drive countless of times.

but this is the first time ever that jungkook drove alone and by himself; no company at all to tell him how he's going a little too fast or a little too near to the vehicle in front of him

he's alone. driving. in his own car. and now he's parked by himself near the gas station and the radio's playing a little too loud.

in second thought?

jungkook will cry

you're not there to console him as soon as you see his bottom lip tremble and his eyes freeze because you're someplace else

you're on a road trip with seokjin because it's his niece's first birthday and his whole extended family would be there and he doesn't know if he can actually handle that by himself ://

his family already knows you anyway and they're awarE of how their own relatives could be so now jin's immediate kim family is relying on you to be also their breather <3

the whole reason that jungkook decided to go onto this mini roadtrip by himself in the first place was to surprise you!!

he heard you over movie night once that you wanted to try these famous donuts from this shop that's an hour and a half drive away, and from your descriptions alone, yoongi and jin aND jungkook decided that they also wanted to try

and kook's just being a loving boyfriend and friend (?) that he made the collective decision that while you and jin were out, while yoongi's in the dorm — he's driving by himself for an hour and a half to get the donuts

but no, he hasn't even reached the donut place yet because he's an hour away still

he suddenly felt that his legs froze and he couldn't move at all because he realized that he's holding a wheel in his hands and the consciousness of it all makes his eyes widen, feeling the smooth leather go heavy within a blink

it was his sudden fear that the car's driving him and he doesn't have any control of it even if he has the means to do so, his mind too far in that he swerves to the right-most lane without his blinkers on and without checking his side mirrors

and even more concerningly, jungkook's still thinking about donuts even if he's in a state in which he's feeling a little dizzy and his chest is tight, having trouble breathing with his tummy aching that he feels he want to throw up

he can't think nor breathe straight and it physically pains him, the only thing registering in his hazy mind being his phone, the lockscreen that's set to you being the first thing that greets him

his fingers tremble as they move on their own and he doesn't realize it, only being jolted when his phone silently rings on his palm because even he doesn't know how nor whom he called

he's already removed his glasses to rub his eyes but they just blearily ache when he tries to see the name on his phone, his eyesight being blurred by the tears he's trying to keep at bay

jungkook's phone stops ringing until it finally connects, pressing his phone to his ear as confused as he is because he can't even remember who he called

"hello? why are you calling me, kid?"

it's yoongi.

jungkook breathes a sigh of relief that of all the people he's accidentally called — it's yoongi

he immediately welcomes the gruff voice, a sob racking through his entire body that he didn't even realize he was holding back

"y-yoongi! oh my god, yoongi! i-it's you!"

yoongi was merely napping when he felt his phone ring beside his pillow, an unfamiliar ringtone reaching his ears that he felt compelled to check it

his tone couldn't have been more abrupt but it's greeted nothing but warmly, the voice from the other side of the line making him focus concentratedly

jungkook greets him so eagerly and panickedly that it worries him, the large gulp of air convincing him that it's not just his airconditioner that's turned all the way up

"what happened to you? are you okay?"

jungkook whimpers at the question, stuttering over words that haven't even formed as he looks frantically left and right to see if his spot at the emergency bay is bothering anyone

there isn't anyone approaching him and-

"h-hazard! i-i need the hazard on."

all the red he's seeing reminds him of his hazard lights, remembering your words to keep them on if you're a potential hazard on the road

yoongi's remaining sleepiness dissipates as his eyebrows knot, overwhelmingly alert as he stands up from bed and find a shirt to put on before he even knows what's going on

"hazard?" he parrots, trying to see if he's slept through some urgent texts from any of you that could make him put the pieces together. "i need you to calm down for me, jungkook."

jungkook's busy eyes snap in one place at the mention of his name, blinking owlishly at the recognition of what yoongi's saying

"i-i forgot how to drive. the wheel — the wheel b-became too heavy on my hands," he stammers, looking at the circle that's in front of him that feels and now looks foreign to him. "i-i drove alone because-"

yoongi's heart pangs at the observation that jungkook's voice is breaking and desperate, turning off his fan before he scurries outside his bedroom and double-checks to turn off everything

"yeah, jungkook? come one, you can do it. you drove alone because?"

he once again affirms jungkook by reminding him of his own name to try and ground him, slipping on his shoes with a vague outline of a plan in his mind

"donuts. i-i heard — y-you all wanted these donuts and the uhm, t-the three of you had a bad day last week, right? i-i think. i'm not over there and you're the only who's home and i-i figured that-" his voice gives out at the end, unable to keep his tears from falling at this point. "help, hyung."

yoongi blinks once, twice, before he finds his voice

"i'm still proud of you, jungkook. good job," he rummages through the bowl of money the three of you drop your change into, dumping the entirety of it as he hopes it's enough to tip the cab driver he's gonna tell to drive as fast as he could. "now can you tell me what you see? can you tell me where you are? where you're parked? hyung will help you."

...

......

it takes yoongi a total of fifteen minutes to reach jungkook at the emergency bay by the side of the road.

his car's pristine and intact and it calms him to no end, immediately calling jungkook to tell him he's there so he wouldn't have to startle him with a knock

yoongi enters the driver's seat and his eyes immediately whip to jungkook who's already transferred to the passenger seat, his face teary and blotchy as he shakily grins at him through it all

"hyu — yoongi! h-hi!! oh my god, you're here."

he nods and softly smiles, adjusting the seat to accommodate his preferences that it makes kook put his seatbelt out of reflex

he's beyond happy to have another person in the car with him, enough to make him feel surrounded and reassured that he can't hear his breathing echoing in his vehicle

he's already mostly regained his breath but it picks up when yoongi doesn't drive straightly like what he thought he would — instead, yoongi drives five meters ahead and turns to the gas station, wordlessly finding a parking spot

"... b-but the donuts. y-you guys wanted the donuts, right?"

he purses his lips at the inquiry, shaking his head somberly

he can't even begin to gRASP why after all this, he's still focused on the donuts that he meant to get for the three of you — still beyond desperate to secure what was meant to cheer everyone up despite having gone through a new driver's version of hell

"how about we grab a bite first and then we could get the donuts after? my treat."

jungkook was about to politely say no and apologize for imposing, the words being caught on his mouth when yoongi reverses into a parking spot swiftly and gets out of the car before he can put a word in, already having him opening the door on his side

he looks up at him as if he's seen a ghost, a slow tick of a minute on his mind reminding him that yoongi's here for him

yoongi looks down to see the younger guy that still looks very much like what he's been through just minutes ago, making him spring into action

he wordlessly combs his hand through his hair like he does with you when you have a fever and cannot be bothered to keep up with appearances, pushing it back neatly

he grabs jungkook's glasses that are muddled with dried tears and fingerprints from the console, cleaning it with the end of his shirt before handing it back to him

"bite first, then we'll get donuts. i promise."

oh my god

is he having an out of body experience

jungkook can walk but he doesn't feel like it because now his steps are toO light, feeling as if he's gliding through air with ease

he follows yoongi's shadow and stares at the back of his head, the newly-dyed pink of it gleaming underneath the morning sun that he tries to focus on it instead of his raging thoughts

yoongi walks into a serene café that's only the calming kind of busy; people here and there in their own conversations, blenders humming and silverware clinking

it's not until yoongi tells jungkook to pick a spot as he lines up to order that it trulY hits him what's happening, picking the comfiest spot his eyes laid on

there's no build-up to the moment because unlike their previous interactions where it's only the two of them, there's no score in the background.

there's no tension nor ill intent and the only thing that's there between them is a comfortable silence, one that jungkook's insistent to break this one time

"i-i'm sorry i called you. you were probably busy. i didn't know what i was doing and-"

"no," he cuts him off, sheepishly putting a hand on his nape. "i called you, jungkook."

"huh?" he couldn't hold back the audible surprise that left him, making him backtrack instead of continuing his sentence

yoongi thinks that the truth wouldn't hurt, leaning to his chair as he relaxed to put the guy across him at ease somehow

"you did call me, but you dropped it in less than two seconds," he admits, drumming his fingers on the armrest. "i called you back."

jungkook visibly awes at that, head tilting as the confusion he has in his head doubles over and starts crawling on four limbs

"w-why did you that?"

was that it?

was that why he felt so confused when he could barely see a caller ID? it was ringing out for him to answer and not the other way around

yoongi's the one perplexed this time but he doesn't blame him, answering sincerely

"because i look out for you too."

there's a pregnant pause between them and yoongi could clearly see the way jungkook's shoulders slump, making him lean forward out of instinct because he thought he was gonna break down again

"i'm sorry," he looks up at him with glassy eyes, wide but not threatening to cry out of despair. "i'm sorry, yoongi."

he knows by that tone that jungkook's not talking about the call anymore, making him raise his hand to wave it off lightly

"we don't have to do this right now, kook. the both of us probably haven't even had breakfast yet."

the much-awaited talk between them has been set far enough for the perfect timing but the bulk of everything just points to now, only getting more strengthened when jungkook breaks the silence again. "but i mean it."

"i was so stupid back then and i didn't know how much i hurt you through y/n," he reflects back to how distraught and angry yoongi looked at him, not to mention the fact that seokjin told him how yoongi didn't sleep at all for a week because of how he was kept up just thinking and trying to protect you. "i-i know it must've hurt to see your soulmate hurt because of me and that she forgave me still. a-and made me her boyfriend, even."

his mouth dries because the younger boy recites his previous heartaches almost word per word, taking his time to digest each one

"i did hurt, jungkook."

there's no denying that. no cover-up of jin as he tries to boost everyone up can ever hide that. no lies to how tae, who barely even knows yoongi, felt his chest tighten when he came over one morning to deliver the cookies and see yoongi sitting outside your door with his ear pressed to it — trying to hear if you were crying while holds his own.

there's no denying either the truth that reflects why exactly yoongi made a cab driver break almost every traffic law to man just to get to jungkook faster.

"but y/n's not hurting anymore — i'm not hurting anymore," he enunciates. "i'm not mad at you anymore, jungkook."

the guy in question looks alarmed, sheepish even at the words he's been wanting to hear but couldn't believe now that they're being uttered

"you should be."

yoongi snorts because jungkook reminds him of you so so much, an uncanny resemblance between the guilt you've always tried to live with before trying to acquit

"i'll hold it over your head if it makes you sleep at night or remind you when you decide to act up again," he chuckles but he's met with jungkook's frantic no's, waving him off when he realizes that his egging's truly working. "but i don't have it in me to be mad at you for any longer."

it's the truth. it's the truth that yoongi always tried to refute because for the past weeks, all he's done is try to find the most miniscule flaw to try and make him hate jungkook

he's only thought once in his lifetime that he'd ever forgive jungkook, but now did it become crystal clear

"you've proved yourself enough, even jin said so," he admits humbly. "but i know you're not doing all of this to prove yourself to us or to me, kook."

he looks up at from his hands to train his gaze on his girlfriend's soulmate, listening attentively

"i know you do it from the heart."

he feels like crying but only this time is it for an entirely different and positive reason, a leap on his chest heightening tenfold

"as much as you rely on y/n — you can also rely on me too, jungkook."

the two of them hold eye contact and neither of them shy away from it, a silent fact in the air as they know that it's not only you who's linking them at this point, but rather because they're somewhat brothers at this point

"i forgive you."

"y-you forgive me?"

he feels his ears ringing in happiness as he tries to dodge the waiter who's blocking his view of yoongi with the way he's putting down the meals, frantically looking for confirmation

yoongi finds it cute, laughing as he throws his head back

"you're the one who does the quizbees. why are you making me spell it out?"

then he knows.

"you forgive me," he parrots, repeating it once more to himself

the two of them eat throughout thoughtful conversation, stemming from the inquiry of how yoongi made a thirty-minute drive into only half of it, until it bloomed to how kook claims to be forgetful but remembers a whisper about bread from a week ago

"tell me if you want to try and drive to the donut place," yoongi turns to him as he settles the bill, watching jungkook finish the last of his food as he throws him a sheepish smile — much like how you do

"i'll be watching over you, koo. don't worry."

how r we feeling bffs </3 i'll have to speak into the mic and say that this is perhaps the drabble i hurted the most while writing :O

as always, lmk what you think!! i love answering asks :D what do you want to see from the lunchbox lovers next? send them here <3

#stem koo #stem koo misc.#jungkook imagine #jungkook oneshot #jungkook oneshots #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #jungkook au #jungkook scenario #jungkook fanfic #yoongi oneshot #jeon jungkook oneshot #bts jungkook imagine #yoongi angst

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angelicmichael · 3 years

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What if Xavier had a kid he didn't know about and he meets them for the first time after he's already a ghost? Maybe there's a kindergarten group that takes a trip to the camp, and he just has this spirit intuition as soon as he sees them and KNOWS it's his child. Do you think you could expand on this idea? I'd love to see what you come up with!

A/N: This was so fun, thank you for this idea dear anon!! I'm sorry it's late but hopefully u like it 😶. Also, I apologize this is so dark and heavy- I didnt intend for it.. it just, kinda happened lmfao. I turned this into a 'x reader' and it starts with Xaviers POV and ends with readers perspective!! First few paragraphs are pretty dark and then the rest is weird.. angst fluff LOL.Hope yall enjoy 💖💖💖

Warnings: First few paragraphs discuss Xavier's thots about dying SO, it highkey gets dark yall I'm so sorry, mentions of anger?? issues, mentions of murder, stops getting dark roughly around paragraph 6 if u wanna skip all that, MAJOR ANGST, reuniting, very brief Xantana reference 😈, mention of kids, bit of fluff.. think that's it :)

In Xaviers eyes; the worst part of being killed in a desolate camp and having to reside there for the rest of eternity; wasnt the fact that he would have to handle Richard Rameriez and tolerate his peers for eons to come. Sure, both of those things required an adjustment period but.. the realization that his life with you was abruptly cut short, was what truly broke him.

It took him being stripped from everything he once knew to truly appreciate how heavenly life once was before Camp Redwood. He had a steady job, good friends, and a relationship with a actual living, breathing person.. Not to shade Montana or anything, of course. However he had taken all of those things for fucking granted; moving to Camp Redwood definetly had made him become humble- at the very least. He was now nothing but a mere shell of the person he once was; nothing to bring him out of this absolute living nightmare he found himself in.. At first this mindset nearly consumed him, it drove him to kill multiple times.

There was no point in trying to conceal the anger he felt, no way of trying to channel it out into a more socially appropriate way and at this point.. there really was no point in trying to do so. Out here in the forest, espically after he was killed, life outside of the forest soon seemed as if it was some type of myth or fairytale- something not real or attainable. Time in the redwood forest felt different- days quickly bled and melted into weeks, and then months.. trying to guess the date was something Xavier gave up on doing after about the first week.

As much as he tried to deny it, being dead and becoming trapped here had completly made him lose his grip on reality and his previous life. Soon enough, the thought that life even fully existed outside of the camp and that there was actual fucking laws against killing (something which was now a leisurely hobby) had completly slipped his mind momentarily in the beginning as well. Out here in the forest, nothing felt real execpt for his anger that he held onto so tightly.

It was really the only thing he had left; atleast for a while.

The pain of losing his partner, (y/n), still remained but letting that grief not consume him was easily the hardest battle he had fought in his life. Xavier realized he still had his friends - and if he really was going to live for eternity, he sure wasnt going to spend it angry.

After so many years of being 'cursed' to spend forever in this forest, keeping track of the time was something Xavier rarely bothered with, but - it was obvious by the suns posistion, and even the slight mist that made the grass wet that it was just starting to cut into morning. Xavier walked through the forest alone, nowhere in particular to go or to necessarily do, only a sudden need to go and be alone. Almost a beckoning, for him to go and be somewhere else. To witness something.

His days were more often than not purely mundane; he had absolutely no excuse to not listen to this odd and sudden attraction he felt toward a very particular spot in the camp.. so, that's what brought him to where he stood now. Close to the road that brought visitors (a nice word for victims) into Camp Redwood, right next to the mess hall which was rarely used close by.

Xavier felt wildly uncomfortable standing so close to the place which previously held so much trauma - and honestly still did.. The place where Chef Bertie died. Xavier paused, about to just say 'fuck it' and just give up and go back to where his friends resided (or atleast Montana) when.. he heard it.

His sign, the thing that seemingly enticed him in the first place.

It first sounded like the old, familar sounds of tires coming across a gravel road - Xaviers mind immeadietly jumped to perhaps this could be new people.. new vistors.. new victims.

His blood ran cold when he heard something else; an eerie ringing of chains hitting against the ground. Something that was mostly a associated with buses.. and hauntingly familar. He had little to no time to think or even act on his suspicion when he noticed that a yellow school bus full, and nearly combusting with children was pulling into the camp.

Xavier wasnt exactly certain the bounds that ghosts had when it came to certain bodily functions like vomiting, but hes sure that under normal circumstances he would certainly be sick by now. Nevertheless he could feel his body tense up and the other natural symptoms associated with anxiety also kicked in. Urging him to clumsily get out of vision; he stumbled behind a few trees that poorly blocked him from sight. He continued to watch in complete and utter horror as the bus came to a stop, and it didnt take long for kids to start pouring out of the bus. Xavier felt his heart drop and his blood run cold every time a kid exited the bus and stepped on the dirt soil of Camp Redwood.

Xavier whipped his head around; scanning the surrounding area to make sure no other ghosts were here to bear witness to this.. Xavier was nearly always down to commit murder, it was really the only thing that kept him from fully going insane from pure fucking boredom but - kids? There was no fucking way he would let anyone touch them.

While he thoroughly scanned the area, he noticed a few adults leave the bus out of his periphery vision. He thought nothing of it, chaperones were to be expected on elementary field trips but.. the strange beckoning feeling he felt ealier visited him again, urging him to turn his head fully and look at one of the chaperones more closely. Instantaneously, he then automatically realized why he felt so compelled to come to this spot.. Why he was meant to be here at this exact moment.. It was you.

At first he thought he was merely hallucinating; you definetly looked significantly different from the last time he had saw you but.. he knew it was you, his partner that he had before his life completly went to shit (minus the catastrophe that occured with Blake, of course). He knew instantly, it was your eyes, your stature and just.. your overall warm and familiar aura that gave your identity away. He couldnt believe that the person he had so fucking desperately wanted to see more than anyone or anything was only a few feet away - and now, that you were finally here... All he wanted for you to do was to leave.

As soon as he saw you he felt a sudden tightness posses his chest and throat which accompanied the formation of tears burning his eyes; hastily blurring his vision. He had to physically restrain himself from sobbing outloud; trying his best to just swallow down his tears. His whole body felt as if it was on fire with anxiety, but he chose to continue to stand still behind a few dainty trees - trying to pull himself together so he could actually have the chance to think critically and choose what the ever living fuck he was going to do next.

While he waited for his blurry vision to clear, he chose to focus on the semi distant figure that he knew was you. He took in the little details; like how the sun highlighted the colors in your hair and your simple but charming outfit. It took him several moments to think of why you would even be here in the first place, with a school bus- and thats when another dreadful realization hit him.

Only parents were mainly chaperones when it came to elementary field trips.. meaning-

No other thought crossed Xaviers mind as his eyes flicked down inhumanely fast to the child where (y/n) stood next too.. and immeadietly he knew.

The features the child shared of both you and Xavier were partially a giveaway, but most importantly.. it was the feeling he had that confirmed his belief. The initial anxiety he felt of the kids arriving still remained but was significantly muted and mostly replaced with a overwhelming sense of pure love. The feeling spread to every fiber of his being, and so did a odd urge to protect this small being which he knew was his.

Not ever in his entire life had he felt this way about someone (execpt for perhaps, you). He felt himself taking a few steps forward, at first completly involuntary but he knew he had to talk to you. Just the idea of reuniting tasted so fucking good but, he knew he couldnt get too greedy if he was going to talk to you. He knew confronting you had to be solely done in order to save you and his child, he couldnt get carried away. He wouldnt.

He tried his best to appear casual as he submerged from behind the trees, his hands held behind his back - the only way he could get them to stop shaking. He tried to relax his shoulders and appear confident as he strided up to you; your back turned toward him. He continued until he was directly behind you, he wanted to tap your shoulder but - touching you seemed out of the question. That would confirm everything, it would make it seem actually real and not like this just some torturous dream.

"(Y/n)"? He spoke.

Xaviers breath hitched as he watched you whip around to face him. He studied your features as you went from looking utterly confused to surprised beyond belief.

"Xavier, what-"

"We need to talk".

Xavier quickly grabbed your hand, leading you away from herd of kids and the few sparse chaperones that were amongst them. A few of them gave you two a few odd looks but neither you or Xavier particularly cared, after all this was the first time in years you two had seen eachother. You hastily followed his lead, feeling slightly embarrassed that it was obvious how nervous and simply caught off guard you currently were. Your palms (one of which was still holding onto Xaviers hand) were starting to moisten with sweat. These feelings only amplified once Xavier turned around to face you. The intensity that was in his eyes put you on edge - never in your time of dating or knowing him did he ever look so serious with you.

"What are you doing here"? Xavier spoke, his voice was still in a higher pitch, slightly breaking.

"What"?

After years of not being able to see you, in fact; years of you not even knowing where he went - this was how he chose to greet you?? Automatically your blood ran cold with the sudden realization that something was wrong. Seriously wrong.. but the feeling didnt just apply to your ex boyfriend. It was the entire camp.

"Its not safe here, you need to take the kids and leave". Xaviers voice more visibly shook this time as he spoke; as if his words physically pained him.

Your heart skipped a beat, the sudden pain and anguish starting to fully settle in. You couldnt believe it; after years of not seeing you - this was all he had to say? Was he fucking joking?

"What? A-are you kidding? Xavier, I havent seen you in years- I didnt even know you would be here-"

"I'm sorry (y/n). I'm so sorry but you have no idea what this place is like. You just need to go, and the kids. And promise me you wont come back".

It was torturous to watch tears gather in Xaviers eyes, and watch as they streaked down his cheeks. The sadness you previously felt was now washed away with red, hot rage. The feeling spread throughout your body like a wildfire that he was seemingly rejecting you.. but you knew now this wasnt some pathetic excuse. Something was seriously wrong here; and now it was starting to become too obvious to ignore.

Xavier looked hauntingly the exact same from the last time you saw him. He forever, looked as if he was still stuck in the same moment of time - like in the summer of 1984, which was when you last saw him.

You didnt realize you were still holding onto one of his hands until you reflexively tried to move it to brush away his tears that were still staining his cheeks; but awkwardly.. you chose to do so with your other hand. Squeezing the one hand you were still holding onto a bit tighter.

He winced as you touched him, and as much you tried your damn best to hold it together - you could feel tears starting to burn your eyes as well.

"I cant promise I wont ever come back, Xavier. I need to see you again, and what about-" you said softly, about to reference the child you two shared together.

"No, you'll see me again (y/n). I promise.. okay"?

He brought your hand up to his mouth to kiss your knuckles; the tears you trying so desperately to hold in were now sliding down your cheeks. Your breathing was now horribly choppy. You were on the brink of full on sobbing but you held yourself back - it was nearly time for you to go.

The fact you would have to go back to go the others and make up some bullshit excuse to leave, put a bitter taste in your mouth.. but your sure Xavier had a valid reason for ushering you to leave. Even if he didnt want to tell you right now; you trusted him with your life.

"Okay.. Fine. I'm coming back though, and I'm sorry I couldnt find you sooner". You admitted.

You dropped his hand that you were still holding in order to wrap your arms around him. To get one final touch to remember him by. You were desperate to fully touch him and to be wrapped in his embrace, something you had desperately and madly missed. As he held you; you tried to soak in his scent, his aura.. just the fact that he was even here seriously with you, in this moment.

You previously assumed Xavier had passed away; that was easier to come to terms with rather than thinking he willingly ran away or.. that something else more sinister had happened. A part of you wanted to be frustrated that you were leaving with more questions than answers but.. you didnt care. Your heart didnt care. You were just happy you were able to see your boyfriend.. no matter the circumstance or conditions it came with. Even though you were stupidly happy, your thoughts kept annoyingly circling back to the same question - how was Xavier here with you, living.. breathing.. in the flesh. How was this possible? You were about to speak your thoughts outloud when you first felt Xavier break away from you. You didnt get as much as a second glance just when you felt something soft on your cheek. Perhaps a goodbye kiss? and then.. just like he wasnt there at all, he was gone. Almost as if he completly disintegrated into the fresh, morning sky.

You felt your entire body stiffen as you realized he was gone.. again. It was difficult to pinpoint exactly how you felt. It was a nasty mix of both grief and anger that left you completly speechless and deathly still. You took a step back to combat the feeling, and attempted to look casual (and not like the person whom you were just hugging had completly fucking vanished). Sheepishly taking a look at the group you had arrived with and making sure none of them noticed your.. odd behavior.

Sure enough, none of them did. They all stood, and continued on conversing just like they were before you had broke away from them. Smiling and laughing as if nothing was wrong; just like they didnt have a care in the world - just as if the love of their life wasnt ripped away from them for a second time.

Even though Xavier was now gone, that odd, unsettling feeling still lingered with you. Like something was terribly wrong here, in Camp Redwood. The feeling wasn't entirely bad though; sure - the overall air in this place reeked of something terrible but.. now you felt something else mixed into it. A comforting essence of safety; Xaviers presence. You knew he wasnt directly beside you anymore but he was somewhere.. lurking. Watching you, as you begrudgingly walked over to the group you came with. Making up a bullshit excuse in your head so you could escape whatever this place was pretending to be.

Taglist: @michaellangdonstanaccount @langdonsexual @jimmason @blakewaterxx @dark-mei-rose @9layerdevilfoodcake @prophecy-is-inevitable @matildaofoz @beautyiswithinchaos @frenchlangdon @instincts-baby let me know if u would like to be added!! :)

#xavier x reader #xavier plympton x reader #xavier plympton fanfic #ahs fanfic #cody fern fanfic #my fic #inbox is officially empty now 💅🏻#hopefully the pov switching wasnt weird LOL #it was my first time writing like that hehe #i lowkey feel bad i made this so dark so hopefully its still enjoyable LOL #also this doesnt rlly follow canon details that well but- idc djdjd

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hrina · 4 years

Text

In The Ring, Pt. II - Cross

PAIRING: Harry x Reader RATING: M WORD COUNT: 7k REQUESTED: highly lol!

hi again! here’s PART 2 of boxer!harry :) thank u all for such a wonderful response on the first part, i can’t explain how much it means to me. i worked really hard on this chapter, so i hope u guys love it! if u do, reblogs and feedback are very much appreciated, and i’ll probably ask for ur hand in marriage in return.

warning: parts of this fic will contain mentions of blood, violence, mild stalking, and sexual content. if any of that makes you uncomfortable, please take care of yourself and keep scrolling <3

u can find the rest of this series on my masterlist, which is linked in my bio! my inbox is also there if you wanna spare a few thoughts about this part. love u guys sm, stay safe out there 💛💛💛

~*~

January 19, 2021

It’s ten at night, and you’re curled up in bed, scrolling through social media. You should be doing the assigned readings for your anatomy class, but you’re procrastinating. Besides, watching video after video of cute kittens peeking their furry little heads out of cardboard boxes is a much better way to pass the time.

Your relaxation period is interrupted when a notification banner descends from the top of your screen. It’s an unknown number, but the content of the message makes your eyes widen in surprise.

Hi. It’s Harry. I’m at the gym.

You tap on the text immediately, waiting with bated breath as you’re taken to a different app. You chew on your bottom lip for a moment, thumbs hovering over the screen before they begin to type.

Hey! I’ll be there in twenty minutes.

Harry’s reply is short, concise, to-the-point—just like him. Oddly enough, it makes you smile.

Okay. See you soon.

~*~

The first thing that Harry notices when you walk through the door is that you’re slightly out of breath. He’s standing in the middle of the ring, his eyes fixated on the opposite side of the room as you enter. Your hair is tied up in a high ponytail, and you’re wearing a pair of leggings and a tank top under your jacket. Your sneakers squeak against the floor as you stride over to him, fingers wiggling in a friendly wave.

“Hi!” you call out, shooting him a kind smile.

Harry leans against the ropes circling the ring, careful not to put too much of his weight on the barriers lest he flip over and fall to the floor. It’s happened once or twice, and each time, he ended up with a bruised tailbone afterward.

“Hi,” he replies.

You shrug your coat from your shoulders as you draw nearer. “How are you?” you ask, peering up at him curiously.

“Good, thanks,” he says. His fingers toy absentmindedly with the silver cross pendant dangling from his neck. “Er…did you run here?”

“What? Oh, no,” you answer with a breathless laugh. “I drove. But I was hurrying—I didn’t want to keep you waiting.”

You’re so fucking sweet. He’s going to throw up.

“It’s alright.” He shrugs. “I don’t mind.”

“Still,” you say, tightening your ponytail with both hands. “You’re going out of your way to do this for me. And while we’re on the subject of that—thank you, again. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Harry says. He slips between the ropes and hops down from the platform. “Shall we start?”

“We shall,” you agree, biting back a teasing smile. “Am I going up against you?”

Despite himself, Harry chuckles. He shakes his head. “Not yet. First, you need to learn the basics.”

“Basics,” you echo, nodding once. “Right.”

He leads you over to the side of the ring, where a pair of punching bags have been strung up near the wall. The arrangement is nothing special—twin leather bags, one brown and one black, filled with sand and stitched together with strong, coarse thread. Reflexively, you reach out, running your fingertips along the black bag and giving it a gentle push. It swings outward before returning back to you. Harry watches you closely, examining the gentle crease between your brows and the slight glaze that smooths over your pupils. He clears his throat quietly, and you seem to snap out of your trance.

“Do you know how to punch?” he asks.

You purse your lips, looking unsure of yourself. “Um…I think so.”

He nods. “Show me, then.”

The blow that you deliver to the bag is weak at best. Harry immediately notices a handful of things that you’re doing wrong. When you pull your arm back and peer up at him, he’s trying his hardest to hold back a smirk.

“What?” You frown.

“Nothing.” He snickers softly, shaking his head again. “It’s just…that was cute.”

“‘Cute’?” you parrot, narrowing your eyes. You scoff good-naturedly, stepping back and holding your arm out in invitation. “You do it, then.”

Harry’s lips twitch. “Gladly.”

The chain hanging from the ceiling rattles when his fist makes contact with the leather. The punching bag itself swings forward in an extraordinary arc before hurtling back in your direction. You gasp when Harry stops it with his palms. He grunts quietly, stilling it before turning around to face you. There’s a small smile playing on his lips, and he’s sure that his eyes are gleaming with a smug sparkle. You just cross your arms over your chest, gazing at him evenly with your chin held high.

“Fine,” you say. “Tell me what to do.”

Harry gets you situated back in front of the bag, standing beside you and studying your posture.

“First of all,” he starts, “you need to make sure that the position of your feet matches the position of your arms.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, shooting him a confused pout.

“Like this—,” Harry reaches for your shoulders before pausing, his fingers only inches away from your skin. “Er,” he clears his throat, fixing you with inquisitive eyes, “is it alright if I touch you?”

You nod wordlessly. Harry swallows down the lump in his throat as his hands close the distance between your bodies. He slants your torso to the side before reaching for your arms, bending them at the elbow so that your fingers—now curled into loose fists—are suspended in front of your face.

“If you’re angling yourself this way,” Harry starts, mimicking your stance, “you need to make sure that your right foot is leading you. But if you stand in the opposite direction—,” he changes sides, adopting a mirror image of his previous position, “—then it has to be your left foot. Got it?”

“Got it,” you say confidently. That same crease is digging into the space between your eyebrows; Harry aches to reach out and flatten it with the pad of his thumb.

“Also,” he says, delicately wrapping his fingers around your wrists, “when you punch, you can’t drop your other hand. Keep it up at all times—you need to guard your face.”

“Guard my face,” you murmur, mostly to yourself. “Okay, cool.”

You throw an experimental punch at the bag, and Harry doesn’t miss the shadow of pain that flashes across your features. His eyes trail down the length of your arm, lingering on your fist. Before you can deliver another blow, he stops you, catching your knuckles in the calloused valley of his palm and halting your movements.

“Keep your thumb on the outside,” he says, peeling your fingers open and freeing your thumb from beneath them. “You’ll break it, otherwise.”

He curls the digits back up, this time so that your hand is settled in the proper arrangement. He then steps back, jerking his head toward the bag and encouraging you to take another swing. “Try it, now.”

The third blow is better than the past two. You beam up at Harry when a promising smack! echoes through the air. He smiles reassuringly at you, nodding his head and tugging at the collar of his t-shirt. “Good. That’s a start.”

“Put me in, Coach,” you tease, bringing your fists up to your face and bouncing playfully on the balls of your feet. Your eyes shimmer as you peek at him from behind your knuckles. Harry presses his lips together to keep himself composed, but he can’t stop the faint snort that slips out of his nose. You laugh cheerfully, dropping your arms back to your sides.

“Okay, so I know how to punch,” you say. “What’s next?”

“There’s four main punches in boxing,” Harry replies. He steadies himself in front of the bag, his left foot extended to provide balance.

“The jab—”

He punches with his left fist, pointed and forceful.

“—the cross—”

He strikes with his right hand, driving the weight of his body into the blow.

“—the hook—”

He curves his arm, angling it accordingly so that he can deliver a hit to the side of the bag.

“—and finally, the uppercut.”

He bends his elbow, scooping upward so that his fist makes contact with the bottom half of the bag. The sand inside shifts audibly as it rattles around, looping in every direction and gathering momentum. Harry turns back to you as it continues to swing in circles, cracking his knuckles loudly and seeking you out.

Your eyes are wide. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think that you look a bit…enthralled. His brow furrows in confusion.

“You alright?”

“Yes,” you say immediately, and he’s taken aback by the breathless quality of your voice. You clear your throat quickly, scratching at your hairline and looking away. “You’re just very…dedicated. That’s all.”

“I’ve got to be,” Harry hums. He turns back to the punching bag and ceases its movements. “This is how I make a living.” His lips quirk up with the hint of a smile. “We can’t all go to medical school and become doctors.”

A weak laugh tumbles from your mouth. “I haven’t even gotten in yet,” you say from behind him.

“But you will,” he murmurs, the reply slipping out before he can weigh it on his tongue. “Without a doubt.”

He pauses when the words finally sink in, his shoulders stiffening and his eyes stamping shut. If you weren’t standing so close, he would have leaned forward and crushed his forehead into the rough leather of the punching bag. His lips mould around unspoken curses as a heavy silence descends upon the two of you.

At last, you finally choke out, “I—thank you, Harry. That’s really nice of you to say.”

“No problem,” he grunts. He steps back, spinning on his heel but refusing to meet your gaze. You’re probably looking at him like that—with soft, glimmering irises and earnestness woven through every cell in your body. If your eyes lock, he knows that he’ll be overrun with the urge to kiss you.

And he knows that if that happens, he might not be able to hold himself back.

“What time do you have to be home?” Harry asks, subtly trying to change the topic.

You lift one eyebrow challengingly, like you know exactly what he’s doing. Still, though, you humour him.

“I told my dad I was going to a friend’s house,” you say, shrugging lightly. “We have time, don’t worry.” You smile as a thought crosses your mind. “Just make sure you don’t get me too sweaty by the end of the night, okay? I can’t go home looking like I’ve just run a marathon.”

Harry’s cock twitches in his shorts at the thought of rendering you sticky and speechless. Of watching you walk away from him with wobbly knees and messy hair. Of dropping you off at home and nibbling on your neck one last time for good measure. He quickly shoos the temptations away, clearing his throat and nodding in accord.

“Minimal sweating,” he concedes. “I’ll try my best.”

Deep down, he knows that you’ll most likely be drenched with perspiration once he’s through with you. You’ll figure that out soon enough, though.

Harry makes his way over to the ring, snatching up a pair of gloves lying on the platform. He turns back around, tossing them to you and fighting a smile when you yelp in surprise. With an awkward flail, you manage to catch them in your arms. You shoot him a questioning look, lifting your eyebrows and waiting for an explanation.

“Put those on,” he orders, clapping his hands together once. “We’re gonna try to perfect your stance, tonight.”

“Why do I need to wear them, then?” you ask, gazing down blankly at the gloves nestled against your chest.

“You don’t need to, I suppose,” Harry says, shrugging. “But your knuckles will probably be destroyed by the end of the night.”

“Oh.” You make a face, wrinkling your nose up in distaste. “Okay, yeah—I’ll use them.”

He smirks, folding his arms over his chest. “We want to be careful, don’t we? Those are the steady hands of a future surgeon.”

You scoff, laughing gently at his quip. “Hopefully,” you say, a sweet smile playing on your lips. “Let’s just pray that I get the right grades.”

You will, Harry thinks, but this time, he bites his tongue to keep the sentiment contained. You’re smart, and you’re beautiful, and you’re kind. You’re perfect. I can’t stop thinking about you. I want to kiss you. I want to fuck you. I want to sleep next to you at night and prepare you breakfast in the morning. I want to make you laugh. I want to make you smile. I want to—

“Harry?”

He blinks. “Yeah?”

You fix him with a benevolent look. “Zoning out on me?”

“No.” He shakes his head, approaching you as you struggle to tug on one of the boxing gloves. His eyes fall to your hands and he reaches out, halting your movements with a gentle, “Let me.”

You peek up at him shyly as he guides your fingers into the glove. He keeps his gaze trained downward, avoiding your eyes. One of his rough palms grasps your elbow as he tugs the Velcro strip tight around your wrist. Once he’s done the same with the other one, he releases you and steps back.

“Thank you,” you say softly. He just nods in response.

“Make sure your feet are shoulder-width apart,” he says, and you spread your legs according to his command.

For a brief moment, the image of you separating your thighs to accommodate his hips flashes through his mind, but he squeezes his eyes shut and wills it away.

The rest of the night is painful—his cock grows stiffer and stiffer by the hour, spurred on by each sweet smile that you send his way. By the time you’re through with the session and bidding him goodnight as he locks up, he’s half-hard beneath his black shorts. He hopes that you don’t notice.

You shoot him a cheerful wave and drive away, and he watches before toddling over to his own vehicle. As soon as he slides into the driver’s seat, he releases a heavy, guttural groan, slouching forward and pressing his forehead to the crest of the steering wheel. Blindly, he sticks his key into the ignition and turns it, and the truck rumbles to life. A quick glance at the dashboard reveals that it’s well past midnight. Only then does he realise the extent of his exhaustion.

He backs out of the parking lot, pulling onto the main street and training his eyes on the road ahead. If he squints, he can still make out the red taillights of your car.

The journey back to his apartment passes in no time. Harry climbs sluggishly up four flights of stairs, tumbling into his home and pressing the door shut with one hand. He drags his feet down the hall and past the threshold of his bedroom, pausing only to rip his t-shirt from his torso before collapsing onto his mattress. Obscure silhouettes dance across his eyelids as they drift shut.

The last thing on his mind before sleep overtakes him is the gentle slope of your smile.

February 21, 2021

One month and a handful of late-night sessions later, Harry finds himself inundated with guilt. He’s constantly plagued by memories of your virtual conversations—short, brief little interactions consisting primarily of him letting you know that he’s free to train that evening. Your responses, ripe with exclamation marks and prattles of gratitude. You’ve taken up the habit of texting him after each lesson, too, composing a quick thank-you message before shutting your phone for the night.

And Harry regrets everything—agreeing to teach you how to box, letting you know when he’s available to meet, encouraging you as your technique progresses. On several occasions, he’s considered breaking things off, telling you that he’s too busy, that you should be focussing exclusively on school instead of on how to throw a right hook.

But then you look at him like that. With bright, trusting eyes and open features and that easy, dazzling smile. And the wall that he’s been trying so hard to build back up—not that it was particularly robust to begin with—comes crashing down.

His match is set to start in fifteen minutes, and you’re not here. You have a midterm tomorrow—your father had mentioned it in passing. You’ve been holed up in your room all weekend, he said, permanently absorbed in the pages of your textbook.

And Harry’s nervous, because you’re his lucky charm. What the fuck is he supposed to do, now?

The minutes seem to fly by—before he knows it, he’s stepping out into the ring with the crowd’s thundering screams echoing in his ears. His opponent isn’t the biggest man he’s ever gone up against, but he’s definitely not scrawny. Harry’s maybe two inches shorter than him—under normal circumstances, the height difference wouldn’t have fazed him. But he’s already on edge due to your absence, so even the smallest observations are proving to be exceedingly disconcerting.

Looking back, he supposes that he should’ve known.

Doomed from the start, destined to fail—whatever you want to call it.

Point being, he loses. Horrendously.

And he’s not quite sure when they bring the stretcher out and peel him off of the floor of the ring, but he knows that it’s sometime after the second round. He blinks rapidly, fading in and out of consciousness as moisture trickles down the side of his face. Somewhere beneath the wooziness, he’s well aware that the match is over. Your father is standing over him, walking at a brisk pace to keep up with the two men carrying him out of the arena.

“What do you mean, he called in sick?” your father spits, his eyes alight with anger. “You couldn’t find anybody else?”

The man behind Harry’s head says something that he can’t quite discern. His response makes your father grit his teeth and pinch the bridge of his nose. He fishes his phone out of his pocket, punching in a number and bringing the device up to his ear.

A few moments later, his expression lights up, relief flooding his features. “Gioia? Yeah, hi…”

Harry’s vision fades to black.

~*~

“…going to have some strong words with the bastard that did this—”

“Gioia, please. That’s how the sport works.”

An outraged scoff. “Who the hell kicks a man while he’s down?”

No reply.

Harry drifts off once more.

~*~

When his eyelids flutter open, it takes a moment for him to regain his bearings. Through the blurriness of his vision, he sees a dim light hanging from the ceiling, bathing his surroundings in a pale white glow. He blinks rapidly, hoping that his sight will sharpen with each flutter of his lashes. There’s a dull pain throbbing against the right side of his torso, battering against his ribcage and pulling an agonized groan from his lips.

The low sound is met with a high gasp. Seconds later, a face is looming over his own. Harry forces himself to concentrate on the person’s features—kind, worried eyes, raised brows, and pretty, parted lips. His heart begins to gallop in his chest.

“Harry,” you breathe. A few gentle fingers card through his hair. The sensation of your nails against his scalp makes him shiver. “How are you feeling?”

“Peachy,” he croaks, his voice hoarse.

Despite the worry swimming around in your irises, you emit a shy laugh.

“Are you able to sit up?” you ask, pulling your hand out of his hair. He nearly whines at the loss.

“Think so,” he mutters. He places his palms flat against the surface beneath him—a bed, perhaps?—and pushes himself onto his elbows. The muted pain in his side flares fiercely, making him choke on his own breath. You reach out for him, setting one hand down on his shoulder while the other wraps delicately around his bicep.

“Easy, easy,” you soothe, tutting disapprovingly. “Be careful.”

“’M always careful,” Harry says.

“Yeah,” you reply sarcastically, nodding your head. “And that’s how you ended up like this, right?”

A short, wheezing laugh punches its way out of his lungs. “Touché.”

Once he’s sitting up, he takes note of the room—well, it’s not really a room. The only thing separating the two of you from whatever lies outside is a thin curtain drawn over what he presumes to be the exit. To his left, a single cabinet with multiple drawers stands only a few feet away. You’re both tucked into a little alcove in the wall, no bigger than a standard bedroom. Harry glances around, his gaze landing on a single plastic chair facing the bed. Everything is set up like a hospital room (but far less comfortable, and severely lacking in terms of medical equipment).

“Where’s Coach?” he asks, creases forming along his forehead.

“He went to go grab us some coffee,” you explain, your eyes scanning his face. “It’s late.”

“How late?”

“Nearly two.”

“Fuck.” His head snaps toward you. “Don’t you have a midterm tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” You chew nervously on your bottom lip. “But it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not,” he says, gritting his teeth and glaring at you sharply. “What the hell are you doing here?”

You recoil a bit at his harsh tone. “Your stupid medic took a sick day,” you tell him, your voice hard. “And my dad asked me to come in and have a look at you. Who knows where you’d be if I hadn’t shown up.”

Regret washes over him. He slouches back against the bed—it’s more of a cot, really—and blows out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay.” You wave his apology away with a quick flick of your fingers. “Just…be quiet for a second, alright? I need to examine you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he mutters under his breath. He doesn’t miss the way your lips twitch as the words sink in.

“Can you move to the edge of the bed?” you ask, gnawing on the inside of your cheek. “I need to see you properly, but I don’t want to make you stand just yet.”

“Sure.”

He shifts his body to the right, slowly dragging his legs off of the cot with a distressed wince. The floor is cold when his feet make contact with the ground, but he pays it no attention. He’s shirtless, clad only in the shorts he’d been wearing when he first stepped into the ring. He purses his lips and feels something stiff realign against his cheek. When he brings his hand up to his face, he finds a cottony piece of fabric taped onto his skin.

“What—?” He looks up at you in confusion.

“It was bleeding pretty badly,” you tell him. “I had to stop it, somehow.”

For the first time that night, he takes you in properly. You’re wearing a baggy t-shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants—it looks like the type of outfit that one would shrug on if they were in a rush to leave the house. Another pang of guilt jolts through his chest.

“What happened?” Harry croaks, pulling his hand away from his cheek.

“My dad told me that the other guy was wearing a bracelet,” you say; frustration drips from your words. “He didn’t take it off before the match started. It’s not a big cut, but it’s deep. You’ll probably need a few stitches.”

“And you know how to do that?” he asks, watching as you circle around the bed and approach the cabinet on the opposite side. He twists in an attempt to keep his eyes on you, but then grunts lowly at the ache that thrums against his side. When he looks down at his torso, he discovers a large splotch of blue and purple decorating the skin covering his ribs.

“I watched my mom do it back when my dad used to coach Artie,” you say absentmindedly, rifling through a few drawers and collecting the supplies that you need. You pause, your eyes clouding over with something forlorn. “Now that I think about it, that’s probably why I want to go into medicine. I think…it would’ve made her proud.”

“It would’ve,” Harry agrees.

He watches you carefully as you make your way back over to him, afraid of prying or saying the wrong thing. Your mother’s death had hit your family hard; he rarely hears you or your father mention her. But maybe that’s for the best—wounds can’t heal if they’re being ripped open time after time again. He would know.

You dump a handful of materials down onto the bed—disinfectant, cotton swabs, tissues, gauze, a needle, thread, and a pack of medical sutures. Harry swallows heavily.

“Do you mind if I…?” you trail off, pursing your lips timidly. Somehow, he understands exactly what you’re referring to.

“No, not at all,” he says. The words fall from his mouth a bit too quickly.

With no further preamble, he spreads his legs, and you step into the space made available between his knees. You lean to the side, reaching for the disinfectant and cotton swabs on the bed, but then nearly lose your balance in the process. Harry’s hand flies upward reflexively, settling on your hip to keep you steady.

You glance down at him with wide eyes, and he hastily removes his palm from your body. “Sorry,” he mutters, looking away.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, and is it just his imagination, or do you sound a bit…breathless?

“You’ve got a couple of scrapes on your face,” you continue. You clear your throat, uncapping the antiseptic and dipping a cotton swab into the bottle. “This’ll hurt a little.”

“It’s alright—fuck!” he swears, scowling deeply at the sting that blooms across his chin. You chew on your bottom lip, dragging the swab over his injuries with practiced, nimble fingers. His toes curl against the cold, concrete floor.

Once you’ve finished sterilising his minor wounds, you turn your attention to the massive bruise on his torso.

“Can I?” you ask softly, extending your arm but pausing only inches away from his skin.

He nods, not trusting himself to speak.

He fights back against a shudder when your fingertips ghost over his ribs. You hesitate, applying a bit more pressure and cringing when he groans. “Sorry,” you whisper, making a move to pull away.

“No,” Harry breathes quickly. He catches your hand in his, trapping your palm back against his side. Briefly, he notes the unmistakable softness of your knuckles, so different from his own. “’S okay. Do what you need to do.”

You nod tautly, pressing your fingers against the bruise once more. Harry grinds his teeth together, trying his best to withstand the pain. You prod around for a few seconds, your brow furrowed in concentration. When you don’t appear to find anything worrisome, you sigh in relief and drop your arm so that it rests limply at your side.

“No broken ribs,” you announce quietly. “At least, not as far as I can tell.”

“That’s reassuring,” he jokes.

A weak laugh falls from your mouth. “I haven’t gotten into med school yet, remember?”

He chuckles. Your eyes suddenly darken, and an angry scowl curls along your lips.

“He kicked you while you were knocked out,” you murmur, shaking your head in disbelief. “Fucking asshole.”

Harry’s eyebrows fly upward, his mouth twitching at your vulgar words. You catch sight of his amused expression, but instead of mirroring it, your frown only deepens.

“It’s not funny,” you say. “He fought dirty.”

“This whole setup is illegal, baby,” he says. Neither of you comment on the pet name that slips out of his mouth. He hopes that you view it as part of an expression, and not a proclamation of his affection. “Fighting dirty—they don’t care about that. If anything, it just gives them one hell of a show.”

“Still,” you mutter, gluing your eyes to the discoloured skin covering his ribs. “He shouldn’t have done it.”

Harry smiles softly, reaching out and tucking two fingers beneath your chin. Your lips part in surprise, and he tilts your face up so that he can look at you properly.

“Thank you,” he says, his tone entirely sincere, “for taking care of me.”

Your throat bobs with a hefty swallow—he can feel it against his knuckles. You lift your hand up to his face, and for a moment, he thinks that you mean to stroke his cheek lovingly. But then you scrape your thumb over the bandage covering his cut, and he’s reminded that this doesn’t mean anything.

You’re here to stitch him back up—nothing less, and certainly nothing more.

“I’m not done yet,” you say.

The two of your drop your fingers at the same time. Harry clears his throat, trying to absolve the tension in the air. You seize some of the other supplies still strewn across the bed, laying them out properly before getting to work.

You’re diligent, removing the bandage on his cheek and using a few tissues to mop up the blood that immediately begins to drip downward, rolling over the jut of his jaw. He curses when you pass another cotton swab over his injury, screwing his face up at the smarting prickle of the antiseptic.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur absentmindedly, keeping your eyes trained on the wound. “We definitely don’t want this one to get infected.”

“Yeah,” he grunts, because he can’t exactly nod with your fingers probing around.

“This is going to be the worst part,” you warn, pulling back and opening the pack of stitches.

You unwind a piece of thread from its spool, taking the string between your lips and severing it with your teeth. Harry watches you closely, anxiety frothing in the pit of his stomach. In all of his years spent boxing, he’s only needed stitches once—the procedure hurt like a bitch, especially since there had been no anaesthetic available. He remembers the pain like it was yesterday, and he’s not looking forward to having to endure it again.

When you guide the first stitch through his skin, he balls his hands into tight fists. His lips tuck themselves into a thin line, and an agonized moan bubbles up in his chest. You squeeze your eyes shut for a brief moment; upon reopening, they glisten with unshed tears.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you whisper. Your voice shakes.

“It’s okay,” Harry grits out. His blunt nails dig into his palms. “Keep…keep going.”

“A few more,” you babble; he’s not sure whether you’re trying to comfort him or yourself. “Just a few more.”

It takes you roughly fifteen minutes (you haven’t really had much practice, after all) to sew his wound closed with five stitches. It is by no means the cleanest application, but it’s not bad. You retrieve another cotton swab and dip it into the bottle of disinfectant, running it along the seam of his injury one last time. After that, you finally blow out the stale air that has accumulated in your lungs.

“Thank you,” Harry mutters. “Truly.”

“No problem,” you breathe. You busy yourself with gathering up all of the supplies, cradling them to your chest and making your way around the bed. As you dump everything back into the top drawer of the cabinet, you say, “Harry. Can I ask you something?”

“Go for it,” he hums. He’s nervous about speaking too animatedly, afraid to disrupt the work you’ve just done on his cheek.

“How long have you been boxing?”

He peers at you from over his shoulder, eyes following your movements as you return to his side of the cot and sit down next to him. “Er…,” he pauses, thinking, “…about ten years, now.”

“You started at sixteen?” you say, blinking in surprise.

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

He smiles softly before remembering the sutures sewn into his skin. A beat of silence passes.

“Can I ask you something?” he questions.

You nod. “Of course.”

“Why did you want me to teach you how to box?” he says. You open your mouth—to feed him another lie, surely—but he carries on before you get the chance to speak. “And don’t say it’s because you were just curious, or some bullshit like that. I want the truth.”

“Harry…,” you begin softly, looking at him with pleading eyes. He shakes his head, adamant and unmoved.

“The truth.”

Your shoulders slump in defeat. Instinctively, you reach for your throat, tugging at the rose-gold chain hanging there and fiddling nervously with the pendant nestled between your collarbones. It looks like you’re trying to figure out what to say, how to approach the situation without revealing something that could potentially make it any worse.

“Do you remember that guy I was seeing a few months ago?” you say, your voice small. “James?”

And oh, Harry remembers. He remembers watching the two of you swap spit on top of the bleachers at one of his matches. He remembers imagining James in the place of his opponent, and then making sure to aim all of his punches directly for the face (he won, that night.) He remembers seeing the sparkle in your eyes slowly start to dim the longer you stayed with him. He remembers the aftermath of your breakup, when James had shown up at the gym and screamed at you to come outside, deterred only after Portia threatened to call the police.

He fucking remembers.

“Yeah,” he spits. The affirmation is coated in a thick layer of venom. “What about him?”

His eyes widen a touch when it all clicks, then, like pieces of a puzzle falling perfectly into place.

“What did he do?” he demands immediately, fixing you with a stern glare. “Did he fucking touch you?”

“No!” you exclaim, shaking your head quickly. “No, no, it’s just…I’ve been seeing him around. A lot. And I’m not sure if I’m just being paranoid, maybe, but—,” you inhale deeply, “—it feels like he’s following me.”

Your name slips past Harry’s lips in a hard, firm tenor. When you look up at him warily, he stares straight into your eyes, leaving no room for you to break away.

“You need to tell someone about this,” he says steadfastly. “You need to go to the police.”

“I don’t even know if I’m right,” you tell him. Your mouth curls down into an apprehensive frown. “I don’t want to cause a fuss, especially if it all just turns out to be one big coincidence.”

“When was the last time you saw him?” Harry asks. A bitter taste settles on his tongue. “How often has this been happening?”

You tilt your head to the side, lost in thought. “Two days ago,” you finally say, shrugging helplessly. “And…I don’t know. I’ve seen him, like, nine or ten times in total.”

“Ten times,” he hisses, “in a few months? That’s not normal, and you know it.”

“Harry,” you plead, tugging nervously at the hem of your t-shirt. “Please. Don’t turn this into something it’s not.”

“How can you—?” he starts, but then you lurch forward, putting a dainty hand on his thigh.

“Please,” you repeat, shaking your head softly. “Just…keep this between us, okay? The last thing I want is for my dad to find out.”

And maybe it’s the tenderness brewing in your eyes when you meet his gaze. Maybe it’s the wilt in your voice, the feeblest he’s ever heard. Maybe it’s the feeling of your fingers on his leg, burning a hole through his shorts and searing a mark—a brand—into his skin. Harry sighs, looking away from you and running his fingers anxiously through his curly hair.

“You’re bloody stupid, you know that?” he asks, scoffing quietly.

“Yeah,” you reply, the corners of your mouth kinking up into a half-hearted smile. “I know.”

“Got you a latte, gioia—”

The dinky curtain in front of you is pulled back by none other than your father, who is holding a tray of coffee in his right hand. He blinks at the scene laid out before him—you and Harry on the small cot, sitting a bit too close for comfort. Your hand on his thigh. You both jump, breaking away from each other and inhaling sharply. Harry clears his throat as you cough into your elbow, standing up and reaching for one of the drinks nestled in the tray.

“Thank you,” you murmur quietly, pressing a gentle kiss to your father’s cheek.

His eyes bounce between the two of you, forehead wrinkling in curiosity as he asks, “What’d I miss?”

You peer down at Harry from over the rim of your cup, panicked and beseeching. He just shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly; the tattoos inked into his skin ripple with the act. His tone is steady when he meets your father’s gaze.

“I’ve got some bruised ribs and a wicked headache, but aside from that—,” he lies, “—nothing at all.”

~*~

Your father ends up driving him home.

He parks the car just in front of Harry’s apartment complex, watching with worried eyes as he slips out of the passenger door.

“You sure you’ll be alright?” he asks.

Harry just nods, waving away his concerns. “I’m fine, Coach, really. Thanks for the ride.”

Your father nods—still looking a little unsure—before speeding off.

Climbing up four flights of stairs with bruised ribs is hell, Harry soon learns. By the time he reaches his floor, he’s panting and wiping a thin sheen of sweat from his brow. He pulls his keys out of his coat pocket, unlocking the front door and staggering into his apartment. A pained whimper slips out of his mouth as he shrugs the jacket from his shoulders.

He slowly makes his way into the bathroom, cupping his battered side over the material of his t-shirt. The water is cold when he first turns the shower on. He grits his teeth, fiddling with the temperature and meticulously removing his clothes as it warms.

The moment the first droplet hits his skin, he lets out a deep, guttural groan. He hadn’t realised just how tense he was until now. He stands under the spray of the water, tipping his head back and letting it wash away every trace of dirt and grime on his body. His hair grows heavy with moisture, sticking to his scalp and his forehead. He leans against the wall of the shower, inhaling deeply. His eyelids flutter shut, and your smiling face appears amidst the darkness.

Almost subconsciously, his hand finds its way to his cock.

Part of him is disgusted with himself. He shouldn’t be thinking of you. He shouldn’t be thinking of you. He shouldn’t be—

He moans.

In the realm of his perverse imagination, you’re straddling him, your arms looped leisurely around his neck and your whimpers echoing into the cavern of his mouth. Your hips roll against his, unhurried and languid and deep. So fucking deep. Harry reaches down with one hand, squeezing greedily at the curve of your ass, and you whine in response, encouraging him to do it again.

He pumps his length in the shower, panting quietly.

Your fronts are pressed together as you rut into his lap, your nipples brushing against the ebony birds on his chest and your silky walls wrapped around him like a vice. He grunts; you swallow the sound down, your hot, heavy breaths wafting out onto his chin. His fingers dig into your thighs when you steady yourself on your knees, doing your best to bounce up and down on him properly. It’s frantic, it’s uncoordinated, it’s sloppy, but…it’s perfect.

Your nails scrape down his back as the two of you move together, a steady series of push and pull, like water under a bridge. If you’re the moon, then he’s the tides, bending and swirling under your gentle light. Every time you rock forward, he meets you there, your bodies connecting with faint slaps of skin on skin. You gaze at him with hooded eyes, lust simmering beneath your lashes. Electricity tingles across his shoulders.

The noises that you emit are music to his ears. Delicate sighs when he nips at your breasts, earthy groans when he hits that special spot inside of you. And woven between them, imploring pleas, murmurs of right there and oh, yes and so good.

It’s embarrassing, how quickly he finishes.

He stands there, leaning against the tiles with his cock in his hand and his release dripping from his fingertips. He has the decency to feel appalled by his actions, at the very least. If you were aware of what he had just done, he knows for a fact that you would never speak to him again.

He cleans himself up, shampooing his hair and scrubbing down every inch of his body. When he steps out of the shower and shuts the water, a wave of exhaustion washes over him, making him sway on his feet. His lips vibrate with a soft sigh.

His phone chimes from where it’s perched on the bathroom counter. When he taps on it, he finds a message from you.

Feel better soon, it reads. The guilt festering in his chest increases tenfold.

Thank you, he says back, shoving the remorse down. Good luck on your midterm tomorrow.

A moment later, your reply comes through.

Thanks! Goodnight, Harry.

Goodnight, he types. He pauses for a moment, debating over whether he should include a little red heart after the word. But then he shakes his head, rolling his eyes at his own insolence and sending the text without a second thought.

He doesn’t even bother drying himself off before padding across the hall and into his bedroom. He collapses onto his mattress, still covered in tiny droplets that bead along his shoulders and trail downward, wetting the duvet. He doesn’t care. It’ll dry, and so will he.

He falls asleep moments later, the repaired skin of his cheek tingling in the dark.

~*~

PART III: Hook

PART IV: Uppercut

if you’re enjoying this series so far, please consider donating to my ko-fi! thank you bunches <3

#harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #eeeeeee okay here it is!!! i love this part a LOT so i hope u guys do too 💘#harry writing #boxrry

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loveume · 3 years

Text

# 1 to 10 🔗

one.

you're a nobody here. a mere plus one to your friend who was forced into coming to this fundraiser by her business world old money parents. your nicest black dress on and one of her many red bottoms, they pinch a little but you pretend like they don't. just like you pretend not to notice the sage green eyes that follow you as the attractive man they belong to sips on what you assume is bourbon, his gold rolex (that easily costs more than the house your family lives in) gleaming on his wrist.

two.

you look over your friend's shoulder from where the two of you lay, sprawled out on a gingham blanket in her massive yard. she's mindlessly scrolling through instagram and just as you're about to turn you catch a glimpse of those eyes. "wait!" she flinches at your exclamation. "go back up." you say offering no explanation. her lithe fingers drag down her screen and those eyes stare back at you once again. it's a candid of the guy from the event, his tongue stuck out. one hand flips the camera off while the other is resting against his lower abdomen which in turns raises his shirt just enough to catch a glimpse of the metal at his bellybutton. his handle reads suna.rin. your friend looks up at you with a confused look but it soon turns to one of disapproval. "don't even think about it." your eyes catch hers and you reply defensively, "i wasn't thinking of anything. i just recognize him from that fundraiser, he kept staring at me." she clucks her tongue. "suna rintaro is bad news with a capital BAD. seriously, don't think about getting near the freak, he's really no good."

three.

really no good makes his way into your dms a few weeks later. you admit it. you were combing through this man's insta like it was your job. but your butter fingers decided to double tap on a month old photo, causing you to lock your phone with a quickness and toss it away from you in humiliation. while you have your face buried in your hands contemplating which bridge would be best to jump from your phone vibrates once, and then once more. –found u angel– –or looks like u found me–

four.

you kick your legs, air force ones swinging in the air as you wait for him. the two of you had decided to meet "officially" in person after taking for a month and a half, suna rintaro was a busy man it would seem. you glance up at the clock above your head, he was late. tapping away at your phone gives you something to do while you wait. a black air force nudging your white one grabs your attention and you look up only to meet sage green. "hi pretty, you match shoes with me on purpose?" his teasing smirk is practically clench worthy. "you're late." is what you reply, standing and slinging your purse over your shoulder. "no, im rintaro. suna rintaro." he holds his hand out to you. you slip yours into his replying with your own name. "i hope we can be good friends," he murmurs with that smirk again.

five.

you don't know if parading around the city with him count as dates, but if they do you've been on a lot of them. he'd called you earlier wondering if you wanted to window shop, his old man was giving him a hard time. that's all you seem to know about his dad, that he's strict on rintaro. he says his mom and younger sister are much easier to get along with. "this one?" he points to a silver chain, thick and chunky. you tilt your head before shaking it, "wouldn't suit you." you point out a thin gold one. "layering a few of these would be better." he contemplates in silence before humming in agreement. "you're so hot." rintaro says before leaning in to you and taking your lips with his.

six.

you'd had to curry favor with rin to make him agree to having a picnic, he got to pick the spot though. he'd said the park you wanted to go to was "too stifling" whatever that meant. the place he'd brought you to was rather secluded but incredibly beautiful. "c'mon pretty, we don't have all day. feed me some of those finger sandwiches you made or whatever it is that gets served at a picnic." he was sprawled out on the blanket, his shirt riding up to show that awful sexy piercing of his, you wanted to kiss him. you tuck the skirt of your dress under you as you sit and unpack the basket. "ah, rin the drinks! please don't tell me u forgot them." "as if, got em right here angel," he holds up a bottle of rosé. "did you seriously bring a 20,000 yen bottle of rosé?" "man if the rosé bothers you, you're gonna hate the necklace i bought you." your eye practically twitches, "rin, what necklace?" he pulls out a cute red velvet box from his pocket and opens it. inside sits a dainty gold chain with a small gold cherry hanging from it. "how much did yo– actually don't tell me i feel like i'll pass out." he merely chuckles before moving to put the jewelry on you. "get used to this pretty, i'm gonna spoil you stupid."

seven.

you're lounging on the ridiculously fancy black couch in rin's equally as fancy and equally as black-accented apartment. he'd run off earlier to in his words to "take care of business", but he'd been out for about four hours at this point. you glance at the clock mounted to his wall, which reads 2:17 am. you drag yourself to get ready to bed, he'd probably be home soon. a loud crash and an equally loud exclamation of "fuck!" startles you awake. you quickly tie your robe around you as you carefully pad into the hallway, peeking around the corner to see what the commotion was about. rintaro stood in the kitchen, his back to you. you're about to call to him when he yells another obscenity which pulls a squeak from you. he whips around to face you, and you can see his anger through the blood traili– blood? you brain finally registers the blood on his face and soaking his shirt. "rin?!" you rush towards him hands cupping his face, "who did this? why do you have blood–" he cuts you off by grabbing your shoulders with a bit more force than necessary, "it's not mine." "what do you mean it's not yours? rintaro what's goin–" he cuts you off again. "go back to sleep." he brushes past you to lock himself in the bathroom.

eight.

everything has seemingly gone back to normal. you and rin never did talk about that night he came home covered in blood. your questions eat at you but you don't want to push the issue. you think back to your friend's words briefly. how rintaro was really bad news. too late to heed her advice it would seem. he kisses you like normal, buys you things like normal, and teases you like normal. you wonder if this game of charades is more for his benefit than your own.

nine.

you sit at his waist, eyeliner pen in hand. "promise i'll make you look real pretty rin." you'd persuaded him with your sweet words and a few sweet kisses and he happily agreed to let you practice your eyeliner on him. he thinks you're so pretty above him, biting your lip in concentration, he wants you badly. "all done!" "great work, pretty." a few beats of silence pass between you as you stare at one another, finally rin speaks up. "listen, i'll understand if you never wanna see me again after i tell you this." he starts. he explains that night to you finally. his family isn't in the cleanest of businesses, and sometimes that means taking care of things in "less than conventional" ways. unsure what to say you press your lips against his, hoping to convey your dedication to him. he slips a ring on your finger when you pull apart, pointing out his initials engraved into the metal. "here's mine." he tells you, reaching into his shirt to hold up a matching ring that dangles from a chain, this one with your initials. "you and me, baby."

ten.

his hand on your neck is cold but the barrel of the gun he presses to your jaw is even colder. you blink up at him, those gorgeous green eyes staring back at you. he leans in, lips ghosting the shell of your ear. click. "nobody loves you, more than me baby."

#haikyuu !!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #suna rintaro drabbles #suna x reader #suna rintaro x reader #suna #suna rintaro #tw gun mention #tw implied violence #a product of me binge listening to 1 to 10 by day6 #love.notes 💌

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cxsmicmyeon · 3 years

Text

SURPRISE! , kms

kim minseok x fem! reader

IN WHICH minseok wants to spend his 31st birthday at home with his wife and cat but you have other plans that may or may not involve a surprise birthday party. (based on the second prompt from this post by @creativepromptsforwriting)

genre: married/domestic & non-idol au! fluff, humor word count: 3.0k warnings: swearing, light sexual references/jokes, implied sexual content (it gets a tad spicy at times but nothing explicit), chaos, minseok’s butt being The Bomb Dot Com™ (sorry not sorry)

author’s note: happy birthday to my ray of sunshine, kim minseok! i love you so so much darling, i hope your day is filled with so much happiness and celebration. hope this lil piece can help y’all celebrate min’s 31st with me <3 it’s not the 26th yet where i live lmao but it is in korea so yeah! once again have a happy happy birthday minseok, i love you endlessly and forever. <33 MOODBOARD MADE BY ME. I DON’T OWN THE IMAGES, I ONLY OWN MY EDITING. feedback and notes are greatly appreciated <3

One day.

One day until Minseok’s birthday, and you were scrambling from bakery to bakery to try and get the perfect cake for him. There were flaws in every place you’ve been: too expensive, the designs were not creative enough, blah blah blah. You wanted his day to be as perfect as possible, and what would be the point of that if the cake was nothing but?

Everything else was all ready. You invited all of yours and his closest friends to your house the night of Minseok’s birthday for a surprise party. You planned on keeping Minseok out of the house for the entire day as your friends decorated the house.

He didn’t want a party. He made that abundantly clear to you as soon as March began. He incessantly told you that all he wanted was a day off from teaching so he could spend the whole day with you and your cat. All he wanted was a nice and relaxing day with his wife. You understood, obviously. But you also wanted to go all out and throw a surprise birthday bash for your husband celebrating his thirty-first year on Earth. Baekhyun, Chanyeol and Jongdae’s incessant whining and begging for an excuse to have a party only aided in your need to have a party.

You ended up settling with a simple Carvel ice cream cake from the frozen section of the grocery store. You made a mental note to ask Yixing to write out “Happy Birthday Minseok” the next day as you left the store.

You came home to your husband holding a feather toy over your cat, Tan’s head. She pawed at the red feather, always at the cusp of grabbing it before Minseok moved the line away from her. He cooed at the animal, making soft kissing sounds as he continued to play with her.

Realizing that he may see the cake, you tucked the grocery bag under your shirt in an attempt to hide it from him, shivering at the cold contact the frozen treat made with your skin. The rustling of the plastic bag caused Minseok to look up at you. He gave you a gummy smile as you walked past him and Tan.

“Well hello to you too, honey. What’s under your shirt?” Minseok asked playfully, wiggling his eyebrows as he made eye contact with your chest. You realized that hiding the bag did not do much to hide the cake, as the shape of the large box combined with the plastic grocery bag greatly protruded from the fabric of your shirt.

“Nothing, it’s for tomorrow. Don’t wanna ruin the surprise, hm?” you mused, blowing him an air kiss before retreating to your office. He "caught” your kiss with a smile before going back to playing with Tan.

You entered your office and placed the plastic bag onto your desk. You ran to lock the door before opening the bag and taking the cake out, sighing in relief that the cake did not get ruined. You bent down to your mini-fridge and opened the small door of the freezer compartment and placed the cake inside, glad that it could fit inside. After locking the fridge, you exited your office and made your way downstairs to spend time with your loving husband.

You awoke the next day curled up in Minseok’s arms. You cuddled closer to him before jolting upwards in realization. Today was finally the day! You bent down and began showering your sleeping husband with excited kisses, trailing a hand down his bicep. He let out a sleepy groan as he stirred, wrapping his strong arms around your figure.

“Aah, what’s gotten into you baby?” he asked, his voice hoarse from just waking up.

“Happy birthday, Min!” you beamed, pecking him on the lips. He grinned tiredly as he kissed you on the lips.

“Mmmh, thank you honey.” You grinned as you kissed him again. This kiss lasted longer than the previous ones and slowly yet surely grew more heated. You moved yourself so you were straddling him, not breaking the kiss. He hummed against your lips as you slid your hand underneath his shirt, fingertips grazing his toned stomach. He groaned as his hands made their way down to your ass, squeezing harshly. You bit back a moan as you slowly slid his shirt up his chest, breaking the kiss to ogle at his abs.

“Babe... don’t we need to get ready?” Minseok groaned as you pulled the shirt over his head. You latched your lips onto his neck and softly bit down, eliciting a raspy moan from your husband.

“Shh, let me give you your first gift.” you purred, moving your hands toward the waistband of his boxers.

The mall was packed to the brim with people from all different walks of life. Gossiping teenagers, sleep-deprived parents following their energetic kids around, old couples window shopping, you name it. You walked through the giant Macy’s and into the main hub of the mall hand in hand with Minseok.

Since you started dating, it has been a tradition for you to buy each other’s gifts the day of your respected birthdays. You’d usually scour Amazon or websites of your favorite brands all day and end up splurging half your monthly paychecks on each other. But on occasion, today included, you’d take your shopping day to the local mall as a means to get out of your apartment and actually go out for once.

After an... eventful... morning, you rushed to get dressed and usher your husband out of the house, since the boys were coming over at 11, and it was 10:55 by the time you got into the car and sped away toward the mall.

You pointed out a newly opened jewelry store and pulled Minseok inside with you. You looked at him lovingly as he browsed the display of a multitude of different rings. He’d softly mutter to himself as he picked up ring after ring: trying to see what would look best next to his wedding band, what the right price was, if the store even provided the correct size. You loved how organized he was.

Your silent admiring was interrupted by the familiar chime of your phone, indicating you got a text message. You let out a sigh as soon as you saw who the message was from.

operation minseok’s 31st🥳

jun-bug: (y/n) we have a problem (y/n): oh god what happened yee-xing: baekhyun dropped the cake (y/n): he did what bacon: cant u read (y/n) i dropped the fucking cake 11 minutes late: no need to be rude xoxo (y/n): yeah baek u don’t want me to leave my stunning husband inside the jewelry store, come home and mutilate you for dropping his cake and get arrested on his special day (: kyung-soup: oddly specific but i’m here for it jong-waeeee: off topic but the sign says “minseop” instead of “minseok” (y/n): jun, yixing and kyungsoo you better get this settled or else i’m gonna kill all of you nini bear: yes ma’am ofc ma’am we will do this correct chain-yeol: yeah i don’t wanna die today

“Everything okay?”

You quickly locked your phone and threw it inside your purse before making eye contact with Minseok. You nodded a bit too quickly, panic washing over you like a giant wave from the ocean.

“Yeah, everything’s dandy.” you sputtered. Oh, why did this have to happen right now? You silently prayed that everything was going to go well. It had to.

“You sure?”

“Positive. Did you choose something?” Minseok nodded as he handed you a box with a simple black titanium ring. You nodded in approval as he led you to the register.

Your next stop was at Express. You were dying to pick out some new work clothes for him to try on. You assured him (and yourself) that he needed these new pants and this was totally not an excuse for you to check him out.

“Okay, I’ve got three pairs of pants that I think would look absolutely amazing on you and I want you to go try ‘em on.” you said, handing Minseok three hangers. Each hanger had a pair of slacks in different colors hanging from them. He took them from you, shooting you a smirk before walking inside the fitting room stall.

Your eyes widened as Minseok opened the door of the stall. The pants fit absolutely perfectly. The way the fabric hugged his perfect thighs, the color complimenting his white undershirt (which you imagined to be one of his famous white button-downs), it left you practically swooning.

“What do you think?”

You let out a hum in approval before motioning for him to turn around. “Lemme see the goods, hun.” He rolled his eyes before turning around. Your eyes landed on his butt, making you swoon for real. You covered your mouth to hide your obvious enjoyment of the sight before you. And it didn’t help when he gave his butt a mini shake. Still, you couldn’t help but squeal softly.

“You sure today’s not your birthday?” Minseok teased. You tutted as you stood from your spot and walked up to him, giving his butt a light pinch before wrapping your arms around his neck.

“With you, every day’s my birthday.” you answered, giving him a peck on the lips.

“Ugh, I think you ate too much of that egg and cheese for breakfast today.”

“You know you love me.”

“That I do, darling.” Minseok mused before closing the distance between you two. You tangled your hands in his silky black hair as you savored the heavenly taste of his lips. You felt his hands grab your ass as you deepened the kiss, tugging at his hair in response.

As you kissed, you heard your phone chime the same chime that indicated a text from the boys. You decided to ignore it and continue making out with your husband until the phone went off four more times. You scoffed as you broke the kiss, fishing inside of your purse to grab it.

“Is everything okay, hun?” Minseok asked.

“Yeah, fine. Just crap from, uh, ‘work,’” you lied, unlocking the phone. “Go try on the other pants.” Minseok nodded before walking back to the stall. Once the door was closed and locked, you looked down at your messages, worry washing over you once again. What the hell happened now?

operation minseok’s 31st🥳

yee-xing: oh christ yee-xing: (y/n) (y/n) (y/n) jun-bug: you gotta help us yee-xing: please kyung-soup: i am going to kill park chanyeol like my life depends on it (y/n): what the everloving shit happened this time chain-yeol: um i sneezed all over the cake kyung-soup: the custom one u got on wednesday btw (y/n): you. sneezed. on. the. CAKE????? chain-yeol: IM SORRY chain-yeol: I WAS TRYING TO STOP BAEKHYUN FROM KNOCKING IT OVER AND I SAVED IT BUT THEN I SNEEZED nini bear: ur so gross chain-yeol: you too (y/n): i spent 100 dollars on that cake and you fucking sneeze on it?? (y/n): jfc i’m here busy admiring my husband’s sweet sweet ass and u guys are telling me the cake’s ruined? i will murder u all i swear jong-waeeee: ew i don’t wanna hear about minseok’s ass (y/n): shut the fuck up sign ruiner jong-waeeee: I GOT A NEW ONE THOUGH jong-waeeee: YOU’RE SO MEAN bacon: WAIT bacon: (Y/N) WE’LL PAY FOR ANOTHER ONE (y/n): baekhyun you sweet summer child (y/n): I HAD TO PRE-ORDER THAT CAKE 2 WEEKS IN ADVANCE YOU WALNUT bacon: oh bacon: my bad 11 minutes late: W8 W8 I GOT U 11 minutes late: WE CAN STILL EAT IT 11 minutes late: I’LL SPRAY SOME LYSOL ON IT jun-bug: SEHUN DON’T YOU DARE (y/n): sehun honey that just contaminates it even more (y/n): but thank you for trying 11 minutes late: xoxo i try my best yee-xing: how ‘bout we just buy more carvel cakes to match the one you got yesterday up to 100 dollars so it maxes out (y/n): yeah alright fine (y/n): thanks xing ur a life saver (y/n): but don’t throw away the ruined cake i wanna show min what he could have missed out on if CHANYEOL DIDN’T FUCKING SNEEZE ON IT (y/n): WHO SNEEZES ON A CAKE nini bear: only chanyeol (y/n): yep, only chanyeol chain-yeol: y’all are mean. kyung-soup: what u get for sneezing on the cake

You locked your phone, letting out an exasperated sigh. You swore if anything else happened today, you were going to march all the way back home and kill those men. You massaged your temples with your fingers as a means to alleviate your stress. All you wanted was for everything to be perfect for the party; Minseok deserved nothing less than that.

The door of the stall opened, revealing Minseok wearing nothing but the new pair of navy slacks and a devilishly handsome smirk. His smile faded when he saw you with your hands over your face, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm yourself down from your stress. He quickly pulled his undershirt on and rushed over to you, wrapping his arms around you comfortingly. With a sigh, you buried your face in his chest, your stress starting to wash away as he began stroking your hair.

You stayed like that for about ten minutes. You eventually calmed down, silently reassuring yourself that everything was going to be fine. You were glad that Minseok did not try to ask you anything since you were afraid you were going to let slip what was waiting for him when you arrive home later in the day.

You let out a small sniffle as you pressed a small kiss on your husband’s exposed shoulder. “I’m so sorry I brought down your mood, Min. The p- ‘w-work,’ is just annoying right now. It’s your birthday, it’s supposed to be a good day.” you mumbled, looking down at your hands.

“Shh, don’t you worry your little head about it,” Minseok assured, kissing your forehead. He tilted your head up and pressed his lips against yours. “All I want is for my baby to be happy today.” You gave him a weak smile and wrapped your arms around his waist, feeling so lucky to have him in your life.

“C’mon, let’s go to the food court. All this stress made me hungry.” you joked, standing from your spot.

“Good idea,” Minseok gave you another kiss before walking back into the changing stall to change back into his regular clothes. “Oh, by the way, buy the pants.” You pumped a fist into the air as you took the hanging articles of clothing into your hands.

You were lucky (and frankly surprised) that nothing else had managed to go wrong today. You were suspicious that you hadn’t gotten any panic-stricken texts from Yixing or Junmyeon, but you couldn’t complain about that. Just to be sure though, you quickly texted Kyungsoo to give you a final update on the state of your house. You sighed in relief when he responded with pictures of your living room, kitchen and backyard decorated just how you envisioned it to be. You sent Kyungsoo a text back thanking him and everyone else profusely for their help.

The clock struck 5, indicating that it was time for you and Minseok to go home. The two of you exited the mall, arms filled with different shopping bags from all the stores you went to during the day. After putting your bags into the backseat of your car, you opened the passenger side of the car and slid in.

“Hm, I was thinking of ordering from that ramen place we tried last week. It was really good, don’t you remember?” Minseok suggested, starting the car and pulling out of the parking lot.

“How ‘bout we wait ‘till we get home to... eat.” you responded, a shit-eating grin almost making its way onto your face.

Minseok hummed softly. “I just wanna spend the rest of the night with you and Tan at home, I hope no one’s planning a surprise party for me,” You tensed slightly at his words, looking out the window to avoid his gaze.

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that, hun.” You lied. He shrugged, intertwining his fingers with yours.

When Minseok pulled into your driveway, you shot a quick text to the boys, telling them that you were home. You exited the car quickly, grabbing most of the shopping bags and taking Minseok by the arm, dragging him to the front door.

“Whoa, what’s gotten into you?” he chuckled as you struggled to get your keys out of your purse. Once you got them out and put the house key into the lock, you turned to Minseok and pressed your lips onto his.

“Happy birthday, Min. I love you so much. And I’m so sorry.” you unlocked the front door and pushed it open. You saw Minseok’s eyes widen at the sight of your home. It was filled to the brim with decorations and all of your closest friends holding gifts, balloons and tons of different ice cream cakes.

“SURPRISE!” everyone exclaimed. Minseok’s jaw dropped as he fully took in everything that was happening. He looked over to you with a sly smile, to which you responded with a small shrug.

“I had to, come on.” You giggled, kissing him on the cheek.

“It’s okay, hun. Let’s just enjoy ourselves.” Minseok cupped your face into his hands and pressed his lips onto yours.

“Gross, get a room!” you heard Baekhyun scream. You pulled away from Minseok to flip the younger off.

“Oh! I need to show you the cake I initially got for you but was unfortunately ruined because Chanyeol sneezed on it. Jun, is it in the fridge?” you pulled Minseok in the direction of the kitchen as Junmyeon confirmed the location of the cake.

“He... huh?”

“It was an accident!” Chanyeol whined. You laughed softly to yourself at his childish reaction.

Tonight was gonna be fun.

#xiumin x reader #xiumin x you #minseok x reader #minseok x you #xiumin fluff #minseok fluff #exo fluff #exo #exo scenario #exo scenarios #exo imagine #exo imagines #exo fanfiction #exo au #exo au scenarios #happy birthday xiumin #happy birthday minseok

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shoutogepi · 4 years

Text

No Touching

Kirishima Eijirou

word count : 4.3K of S M U T (seriously 98% smut)

[ ✘ (nsfw!) ]

themes : sub!kiri, dom!reader, thigh riding, ball gag and cock ring nastiness

bio : You finally give in to the desires of your favorite client, Red Riot... Not that you’re complaining though.

author’s note : ya so i said i was writing something sinful (shouto smut on hold for the moment) and uhh well this certainly qualifies lmao. ALSO go easy on me please this is my first Kiri fic and I tried my best to do him justice :’(

tagging : @lildreamer93 ty for supporting me 🥰

also available on AO3 here

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

🅂weat drips down the prominent contours of Red Riot’s chest, the broad muscles jumping in shock at the cold and harsh snap of the clips. His nipples stand out as his back arches off the back of the chair, shoving his thick pectorals into your face. He whimpers out a low moan as your finger gently tugs at the chain connecting the clamps latched onto his sensitive chest. His thighs press together, creating the friction his throbbing cock so desperately desires.

“Y-Y/N,” he grumbles, his crimson eyes flashing briefly at your wicked gaze.

“Tsk tsk tsk, you know better than to call me that, Red.” The words taste so right rolling off your sultry tongue, and the way the number six hero’s eyes roll back as they shut sends your confidence through the roof.

He gasps as your fist squeezes his cock, this being the first time you’ve touched him so directly all night. Your heavy breath on his moist skin makes his legs shake slightly, and he throws his head back over the top of the chair when your hand glides down his shaft, maintaining your tight grip. His cock glistens with your spit and his precum, which has continued to dribble out of his aching slit since you’d begun your teasing long ago.

Sucking the chain into your mouth, you gently rear your head back so the clamps pull on his tender buds. The new position allows you to greedily soak up the way his chest puffs and falls at a quickening rate, his eyebrows scrunched in pleasure. A trickle of blood runs down his chin, his sharp teeth tucked into his bottom lip frantically. He wiggles his hips ever so slightly, hoping you won’t notice how he subtly tries to quicken the pace you’re jerking his dick to. His fingers stab into the meat of his outer thighs, trying to restrain himself from reaching out and touching you.

As his inner battle ensues, you take your time playing with his swollen cock. Gliding your fingers over the protruding veins that decorate his length, squeezing his balls just hard enough to make him shift in his seat— oh god, you love the expressions that fluctuate on his handsome face. It’s partly why he’s your favorite patron.

Sure, being a high end dominatrix has its ups and downs. Sometimes you’d get stuck with a disgusting politician, and sometimes you’d have the pleasure of spending your evening with a top hero. Many a hero had paid for a night with you, and after some time you were able to make your living off of your handful of regulars. You were no virgin to teasing men to their wits’ end, but every time your hands were on your favorite crimson client, you couldn’t help but feel sinful butterflies in your stomach.

But it was dangerous playing with a man who blazed as bright as his fiery red locks. He was dangerous. He was dangerous in the sense that always at the peak of your nights with him, you’d find yourself wondering what would happen if you broke the rules.

“Stop squirming so much,” you instruct, and although a loud whine escapes him, his body instantly stills to follow your command. His eyes slit open as your hand leaves his dick, sagging slightly in his seat in a mixture of disappointment and relief that you had stopped. “Stay,” you demand, winking at his longing gaze.

You saunter over to the vanity, ass pushed out to bend your spine just the way he likes. Your manicured fingernail drags along the drawers, and you enjoy the feeling of his hot eyes glued to your every motion. Opening the top drawer, you search for the items you’d come over here for. Your smile only widens as you recognize the smooth plastics, and you make sure to keep the various items out of Kirishima’s sight as you take it out of the drawer. Reaching out to grab a container of lube perched at the top of the shelf, you gasp as you knock the container onto the floor.

“Clumsy me,” you purr, watching the redhead’s eyes ignite with renewed interest as you lean down to retrieve the bottle. Your tiny little skirt does nothing to cover the ruby red thong that slips between your cheeks, and a broken moan erupts from the hero across the room. Your hand slides up to grip one of your ass cheeks, pulling apart and almost revealing your needy holes.

But you know just how far to spread— and much to Kirishima’s chagrin, he can only see the tiniest glimpse of your sex before you stand upright again.

When you come closer to him, you can see how you’ve affected him. His cock is angry— thick and red and twitching impatiently against his taut stomach. The emotions swirling within his scarlet gaze makes your pussy flutter, and a slight blush rises to your cheeks even though you’re the one in control here.

“My favorite panties, darlin’? You’re always so considerate of me.” His gravelly voice causes shivers to shoot down your spine. His eyes fixed on yours, the corner of his mouth twitches up as you draw nearer, a full smirk on his face as you sink to your knees between his legs. His length jumps eagerly at your proximity, a puff of hot air washing over your face as he exhales.

“Do you like them, Red?” You inquire, but it sounds more like a taunt. You deposit the plastic items on the floor underneath his chair, keeping them out of view. His thighs jerk roughly as your palms lay against the skin there, your fingernails tickling his flesh.

He gulps, his cocky grin faltering as your fingers slide upwards toward his erect cock. “I didn’t get a very good look at ‘em sweetheart. Be a doll and ‘gimme a refresher?” His voice is softer this time, but it still has that Red Riot edge to it. He knows he is not in a position to make requests, but fuck all if he’s not going to try and see your perfect body again.

His heart slams against his ribs at the bright smile that splits your lips. “Hmm, I ‘dunno, Eiji,” you tantalize, ecstatic at the loud groan he releases. His name falling from your pouty lips makes his eyes roll back, his fingers cutting into his palms as he clenches his fists. “You didn’t even say please.”

Drawing fresh air into his lungs, Kirishima licks his lips as you push yourself to stand halfway upright, your face dangling just a short distance from his. Oh, how much he’d pay to lean in and taste your mischievous lips. Your hands still on his thighs, his body trembles at your closeness. “Please, baby, ‘lemme see those panties,” he begs, his voice crackling slightly in desperation. His brows cinched and his eyelids half-lidded, his teeth grind together as he grovels.

You lean in, and his eyes dart south to analyze your breasts for a moment before he looks back at your face in flustered surprise. “You’re such a naughty boy,” you moan, smiling at how his cock jolts upright, standing vertically as if saluting you. “Only ‘cause you asked so nicely.”

You turn around and the sound of Kirishima’s sharp inhale makes the corners of your lips curl into a satisfied smirk. Your ass meets his thighs, cunt placed strategically in between so he doesn’t get the pleasure of feeling your wetness. Of course you’re turned on, but you must comply with those infernal fucking rules.

Kirishima groans unabashedly as you grind your ass against his thighs. He’d visited you many nights before, but this was the first time he’d felt the silky skin of your ass and thighs on his own, and the sensation only makes his aching cock impossibly harder. Twisting your back, you turn your face so you can watch his expression. His eyes are scrunched shut and more blood trails down his chin as he bites his lip so hard his teeth stab into himself. His fists are clenched so tightly beside his thighs that they’re white and trembling, and it seems like he’s too tense to even take in a breath of air.

“Eiji,” you whimper and he immediately opens his eyes, his pupils blown out. “Don’t you wanna see ‘em again?” His gaze remains on your eyes for a moment before he realizes one of your hands is lifting up the back of your skirt, presenting your ass and that delicious sliver of carmine lace that disappears between your cheeks. Your ass jiggles slightly as you drag yourself along his thighs, and he nearly explodes as he watches your asshole pucker underneath the mesh fabric.

“F-fuck, Y/N,” he gasps, finally releasing his poor bottom lip from his pointy teeth’s hold. Your sweet skin on his is too much— infinitely better than the meager scraps his imagination had conjured up all those late nights when he would return home from your workplace. Even though you’d always get him off, he’d find himself hard and ready to go again as he’d replay the hours you’d spent with him in his head. Of course he’d jerked himself off to the thought of finally fucking you, but he would never force you into something you were uncomfortable doing. And then, of course there were those forsaken boundaries with your job, which he ruefully reminds himself of with every roll of your hips.

Kirishima cries out at the loss of your touch, desperate to have your skin on his. The contact was much too brief after all his pent up imaginations had run so wild. A foxy frown is on your pursed lips as you turn around, sinking back to your knees between his legs. “Red,” your tone is low and oozing with lust, and even though he’s being admonished he can’t help but leak more precum at your sultry voice. “You know you’re not supposed to call me that.”

Before he can apologize, you grab one of the toys from underneath the chair. The thick black ring makes him slightly recoil, but his reaction doesn’t stop you as your mouth eagerly engulfs his tip. The pearly substance gathered there greets your tongue with a bitter saltiness that you gladly welcome. His hips nearly buck, and he doesn’t know how he manages to keep still as your throat welcomes his throbbing cock. Moans tumble out from him, loud and dissolute, just the way you love it. You only allow a few bobs on his length before you lean back, sliding the ring around his cock and fixing it to slip around his balls so it sits tightly at the very base of him.

The muscles on his torso are quivering as he tries to recover, his breath ragged and uneven. “I’m s-sorry, darlin’,” he pants and he nearly doubles over as the ring begins to vibrate,” I— fuck— I got too excited.” You wonder if the expletive is because of the vibrating ring or because he’d wanted your body on his longer. You’d barely even touched his cock and yet he was horrifyingly close to climaxing, an embarrassed flush tainting his tan cheeks.

“I forgive you, Red,” you slap his thigh, not soft but also not hard enough to hurt— just the right strength to make him sweat. “But you’ve still gotta take your punishment.”

Kirishima whines gently as his gaze lands on the ball gag you’d brought over, which you now dangle in front of his face. His apologetic gaze captures you as your thumb traces his broken bottom lip, smoothing over the small cuts from his vicious fangs. He dares to lean forward, lips parting and taking your thumb into his mouth. Careful not to slice your skin, he tucks his teeth away and caresses your finger with his warm, strong tongue. You become aware of your cunt dripping between your legs, your arousal intensifying at his intimate and contrite action. You want that tongue on you, all over your body, especially on the places hidden away from his piercing eyes.

You sigh at his submissive gesture, licking your lips as he opens up without protest for the gag. The ball isn’t too large a size, just grand enough to leave his mouth open and to keep him from hurting himself on his spiky teeth. “No hiding now,” you sigh into his ear as you lean into his neck. His moan is much louder with his mouth propped open, and you savor how he blushes slightly at the heightened lewdness. “Aw, you’re blushing, Red?” The color on his cheeks only darkens, and another heavy moan sounds when your fingers land on his cock.

His body is still trembling as you continue your work, and his eyes fall shut as you place your lips on the juncture where his neck meets his broad shoulder. His harsh breaths give warning to how close he is, and you heed their warning as your fingers slowly pull on his rosy member. Strategically ignoring his inflamed tip, you languidly stroke his shaft, and you’re rewarded with a slew of short and desperate mewls from the hero beneath you.

You know just how hard this must be for him. Red Riot, the unbreakable, top hero who prides himself on his manliness and bravery. An absolute unit of a man— rippling muscles strung along his huge frame, sharp teeth to dazzle his fans with his signature cocky grin, and of course the most gallant, chivalrous character— Yes, that’s who is melting into a puddle underneath you.

Your lips dance along his slick chest, never staying long enough to leave a mark that could tarnish his noble reputation. The moans turn to deeper growls as your hand floats further up his length with every jerk, his noises of pleasure so exquisitely loud with his jaw hanging open. You can’t help but shift against his thighs, the burning between your legs becoming hard to ignore. A wave of embarrassment crashes through you as you realize your desire for the man beneath you. If you could have it your way, his cock would be nestled in your cunt so quick he wouldn’t even notice until you were cumming around him. Fuck, if only you weren’t at work right now… what are the damn rules again?

No touching.

No kissing.

No penetration.

The three statements are a blaring mantra in your head, repeating over and over, faster and faster. Fear mixes with your lust, a terror culminating that you might do something forbidden if the words stray from your focus.

No touching.

No kissing.

No penetration.

Kirishima, ever the gentleman, notices the subtle shift in your mood, his eyes taking in your wanton expression and how your hips just barely swing along his thighs. Your core still in between his legs, untouched save for your arousal pooling in your panties. His hungry stare roves over your black brassiere, the thin material not doing much to hide your hard nipples from poking through. He lets out a vicious groan as he imagines how you’d squeal if he could take one of those cute little buds in between his teeth, just hard enough to make you squirm but not so much you’d bleed. Fuck, how wet your cunt must be under that string you called panties, how you’d scream as he rammed his fat cock into your tight little pussy.

Little do you know, the rules are replaying in his head too. He wants you just as badly, if not more.

No touching.

No kissing.

No penetration.

Your hand stops abruptly and he grumbles, unceremoniously ripped from his imagination once more. Your gazes lock, and he lets out a soft moan when you bite your bottom lip, unsure eyes floating around his handsome face.

You’d like to think Eijirou trusts you after all the nights you’ve spent together, but you can’t stop the nerves that tingle with uncertainty as you summon the courage to say something. You’d had surprisingly deep conversation with the man when you weren’t teasing the living shit out of him, even going so far as to reveal your real name in exchange for his-- something a woman in your profession should know much better than to do. But you couldn’t help it, and although you had to chastise him for uttering your name, every time he did so sent a wave of heat rushing toward your core. Even now, after you’d edged him mercilessly all night, his eyes hold a deep, touching sincerity as he looks back at you.

No penetration.

No kissing.

No...

Your shaking hands reach down to land atop his fists. His eyes widen as your thumb pokes into the middle of his fists, unraveling and pulling them so his hands lay open in yours. Your fingers around his wrists now, you guide them to your hips, hovering over your skin as you continue to doubt yourself.

Kirishima allows you to hold his hands so enticingly close, his crimson orbs flickering between your waist and your hasty expression. So he makes the move instead. Slowly, at an almost agonizing pace, he lowers his hands to rest on your flesh.

Touching!

Oh god, he’s touching you and it feels so fucking good!

The skin on his palms is calloused and rough, but they feel like heaven on the smooth skin of your hips. A whimper departs from your open lips, eyes falling closed at how hot and manly his touch feels. His fingers press into your supple hips, moving your torso to the left slightly and maneuvering you to poise directly above his thigh. He watches your erotic expression blossom as you sink yourself onto his thigh, your cunt finally receiving the friction it so desperately desires. He snarls out a sexy groan at how easily your cunt wets his thigh, your arousal soaking through the red thong you had put on just for him.

“Eiji,” you moan and he grabs your hips hard. His biceps bulge as he slides you toward him, dragging your pussy along his thigh and soliciting a whine from your parted lips.

Your hand starts up again on Kirishima’s cock, jerking his whole length now and making sure to pay special attention to his pretty pink tip. Your other hand flies up to curl around the back of his neck, your elbow perching on his shoulder. His soft red locks tickle your wrist, his hair flat and void of product. Your fingers twitch to undo the ball gag but you know very well if you do that, you’re going to kiss him. You’re going to kiss him and feel his tongue on yours, and you’re going to suck in all his moans and give him some of your own.

And then, that’s two rules thrown out the window, why not abandon the last as well?

No, you’re a good girl and you need this job. You need it more than you need Eijirou’s mouth and his cock, even if the call is so disturbingly close. No kissing and no penetration. And fuck, you could get off with just his touch no problem.

The hero underneath you groans at your renewed vigor on his member, his grip tightening still as he drives your hips back and forth against his thigh. His jaw becoming sore from being open so long, drool trickles down his chin to drip onto his lap. He longs for your release, eyes barely open to watch you make such a sinful face as you let him push and pull your body against his. A devious thought enters his mind, and he quickly acts on it, activating his quirk on his lower half.

The gasp that tears from you is exhilarating, and Kirishima’s wrists only flick your hips faster against his hardened muscles. He allows his moans to ring out into the room without restraint, his deep, guttural noises loud enough to drown out the beautiful whines that he forces out of you. Your hand keeps up with this increased pace, thumb pressing dangerously into the head of his cock and smearing the essence trickling out of him so it lubes up your ministrations.

His hardened thigh sends delicious jolts of pleasure through your body as Kirishima drags your clit against himself. Your fingers pull tightly on the hairs at the base of his head, eliciting a sensual howl to rumble from his chest. The incredible solidity of his muscle beneath your quivering cunt forces you to hurdle to the edge at a shameful speed— already you can feel the haziness of an orgasm consuming you. His quirk so delectably harmonious with the onslaught his hands roll you against, your head tilts back as your eyes slam shut.

“Red!” Your body crumbles in his hands, collapsing as your climax wracks through you, emanating from your core and making your entirety surge with a pulsating, white heat. Your hand on his cock clenches, frantically yanking at his sensitive tip and making his hips buck up against you.

Kirishima revels in your euphoric expression and how your pussy clenches through your thong against his now-soft thigh. He continues to draw your hips along his lap sensually, watching your chest shake as you recuperate. Your head flops forward so your forehead rests on his shoulder, your hand on his neck falling to drag your nails along his muscular back. The sensation makes his skin prickle, and he can’t hold back the smug grin that appears on his lips. He’d made you orgasm and he’d barely even touched you.

Finally catching your breath, you slither off his thigh. A thin trail of your arousal strings out as your hips retreat, connecting your cunt and the pool of slick that had leaked onto his muscle. A pink blush blooms on your cheeks at the sight, and Kirishima can only let out another vocal groan to assure you he finds it sexy.

Shakily landing on your knees once more between his legs, your fingers slide under the confining ring on his base, slipping the forsaken toy off of him. His cock seems to immediately grow, pulsing and radiating heat against your palms. His hand frames your face, thumb on your chin and middle finger brushing the corner of your jaw. The other hand pushes your hair away from your mouth, and you hum in appreciation as your hand cups his length.

Kirishima sighs as you take him into your mouth, his cock feeling free yet hypersensitive after the torture from the vibrating ring. Your tongue caresses the tip, swirling around to collect his saltiness before flattening at the bottom of your mouth, and sliding his member deep into your throat. His sensual moans greet your ears as your velvety mouth welcomes his length, and his eyes flutter closed as you guide more and more of him inside.

Your movements are lazier than usual, your brain still clouded with ecstasy from your orgasm, but he doesn’t seem to mind the extra care you give. Your tongue curls around his length, the soft ack ack ack of his cock nestling entirely inside your throat making him shudder. Your fingers trail up his flexed torso, hooking around the metal chain across his chest and gently pulling it towards yourself. His groans increasing in frequency and volume, you blearily look up to catch his scarlet gaze honed in on you. Your other hand cupping his balls and your nails combing through his black, trimmed hair, his eyes whirl back into his skull, and a broken, ferocious snarl tears through him.

Briny, hot ropes of his cum easily coast down your throat, and your purr against his member. He lets out another animalistic growl, his long overdue orgasm sending shivers from head to toe. The face he pulls is exquisite, his eyes nearly crossing in bliss and his jaw still hung open, drool dribbling down the corner of his mouth. Rolling his balls in your palm as your tongue glides alone his veins, your mouth leaves his cock as you stand. Your cunt throbs, longing to be stretched with his thick cock at the knowledge that had his mouth not been full on the gag, it would’ve been dripping with your name.

Sitting in his lap, facing him again, your fingers wind around the back of his head and undo the gag. The ball falls out of his slack jaw and drips with his saliva, not that that phases you. His lust-clouded eyes regard yours, and a low chuckle thrums out of him as his hands drift up and down your spine. His lips curve into a sated smile, a warm feeling trickling into your chest and you suddenly feel bashful under his intense eyes.

“So we breakin’ the rules now, baby? Long time comin’,” He whispers, his hands gathering your hips once more and dragging you into his chest. The friction on your puffy clit makes your core spasm around nothing, and as if the movement is not enough to be noticed by Red Riot, a low whine tumbles out of you. He presses you closer to his torso, the sinew underneath his skin protruding delightfully. You let out a mewl as your cunt touches his still-hard cock, your mesh panties the only barrier separating your bodies. “You’re so fuckin’ cute pressed up against me like this, darlin’.”

You gasp as his finger dips into the puddle you’d left on his thigh, shocked as he sticks the digit in his mouth and groans.

“Bet these lips of yours are just as sweet,” he mumbles as his hand takes your chin, thumb rolling over your plump bottom lip. His eyebrow quirks as an idea comes to mind, his hands still running across your soft skin with his darkened gaze challenging you.

“Does it count as rule breakin’ if we head back to my place?”

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

thank you so much for reading. If you’d like a part 2 (breaking the other rules huehuehue) please be sure to let me know ♥︎

make sure to shoot me a comment/ask/reblog if you enjoyed ♥︎♥︎♥︎ I’d love to receive any feedback!!!

➥ masterlist

#waaa my first kiri fic!!#i hope i portrayed him alright #i really struggled trying to capture his character so if it's off im sorry :((#but dang he was kinda hot tho right?? lmao #if part 2 is in demand the tables may turn 👀#my fics #kirishima fic #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima eijirou smut #kirishima smut #red riot smut #red riot fic #kirishima eijirou fic #bnha smut #bnha fic #mha smut #mha fic #bnha x reader #mha x reader

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vapid-slut · 4 years

Text

Perfect Harmony; Ch.1

Warning[s]: Swearing, Michael being a dirty bitch

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: Entering her senior year as a cheerio, the reader is excited to combine both her love of music and her newfound popularity. To Michael, however, this is the perfect opportunity to fuck with his innocent neighbor

A/N: Can we say, I hate this, because I really do. I have no idea what has compelled me to post this dumpster, just know that if you read this, no u didn’t <3 + I did not proofread this so if theres any typos I’m so sorry, I’m running on 4 hrs of sleep and 5 cups of coffee

Music was your life. Your parents often joked that you were singing before you uttered your first word. Unfortunately, there were no music clubs during your past two years of high school. It was only last year that you and the glee club won nationals, hence why you were able to keep funding. School administration was never really fond of the arts, but they would bend over backward to give the sports clubs whatever they needed.

Your biggest dream was to get a scholarship, preferably for music, since you excelled at it. All your life, you watched your father slave away to keep you happy. You just wanted to repay his kindness. Abruptly, your dream, which entailed you winning a grammy, was disrupted by the ringing of your alarm clock. Your arm stretched over to your nightstand, turning the device off, bringing the sound to a halt.

Slowly, you removed the sheets off your body, standing up for a brief stretch before walking to your bathroom. You went about your morning routine much quicker than you typically would. Mostly due to your excitement, this year would be the first that you spent closer to the top of the social food chain. Over the summer, your dad became fast friends with Coach Sylvester. She had come over a few times. And although their relationship was strictly platonic, they both had grown fond of each other. A week before school, she offered you a spot on the cheerios, one you couldn't turn down. Cheerleaders were at the very top of the pyramid. Girls wanted to be them while boys wanted to be with them.

Once you had finished doing the bare necessities your morning required, you hastily made your way to your closet, immediately reaching for one of the three cheerleading uniforms hanging on the rack. You stripped out of your pajamas before slipping into the skimpy skirt, unaware that you had an admirer. Michael had moved next door a few months into your freshman year, was a rather charming boy. He quickly became a hot commodity, no doubt due to how impeccably handsome he was. You were never too fond of him, but even you had to admit that he was a divine sight.

It never truly bothered you that the window into your room was straight across from the one piercing into his. But if you could see the look of satisfaction on his face as he watched you undress, you'd feel very unnerved. The boy had always felt attracted to you. He saw you as a challenge. You were one of the few students in your grade who was still a virgin. Not due to your looks, you frankly didn't have the time to go to parties or hook up with people. Your focus was on your education. And if getting into a great school meant sacrificing your social life, you were content with that.

Once you had finished getting your uniform on and slicking your hair into a neat updo, you gathered your things into your bag and hurried downstairs for breakfast. "Mornin' kiddo!" Your dad said, greeting you with a smile. You muttered a cheerful 'hey' in response, walking towards one of the cabinets full of cereal boxes. "Oh, I forgot to tell you. My car had to get fixed up last night so, I'll have to take yours today." You shrugged as a reply, not caring. "So am I taking the bus today?" Your father shook his head, reaching for a spoon at the same time. "No. That nice boy next door offered to give you a ride today. Isn't that sweet?"

Fuck- you thought to yourself, of course, the universe found some way to screw up your day. You took a long sigh before shifting your eyes to the clock on the wall. "Shit! I'm sorry, dad. I'd love to eat breakfast, but the Glee meeting starts in 20 minutes." Your dad shrugged, not too bothered. "It's fine, go have fun and tell Michael I said hello." You nodded to your old man, and with that, you were up and out the door.

As soon as you stepped foot outside, there he was. Hair perfectly curled, toothpick dangling from his soft lips. You sighed, walking towards the blonde, waiting for him to get out of the way. "Wow, you become a cheerleader, and now you think you're hot shit?" He spat, you gave him a death glare before pushing him lightly to get inside the car. He followed suit, taking his place in the driver's seat. "As much as I find you annoying, your ass does look great in that skirt." You scoffed, rolling your eyes at the boy as he started driving. "Listen up, Pillsbury fuckboy. Though this might seem hard to understand, I don't like you. And I'd rather not spend my senior year arguing with someone as unbearable as you, so can you please leave me alone?!"

The blonde chuckled at your response. Your mouth said one thing while your thoughts said another. "Your wish is my command." He mumbled sarcastically before reaching to turn up the music on the radio to an obscene volume. The rest of the car ride was entirely uneventful, neither of you uttering a word to each other. Ultimately, you had reached the school parking lot. Not many cars were there since it was early, and only a few clubs were meeting today. Before Michael could do anything, you swiftly got out the car, making sure to slam it loudly. "Don't fucking slam the door!" He said, his voice reaching you even though you were still walking, in response you promptly flipped him off. "Fucking bitch." He uttered lowly as you slowly left his field of view.

-----

"Welcome back, New Directions!" Glee's coach, Mr.Shue, said as you embraced your friends. "As you know, this will be our last year together, and a few of our beloved friends have left for college already. Which means we'll be having auditions for some newcomers." As he spoke, he walked over to the whiteboard, grabbing his trusted magic marker. "But there's a twist." You and everyone else in the room watched as he wrote out the words American Idol. "This time, you'll be judging with me."

You would typically be seated next to Tina and Mercedes, but they were both absent for the meeting. Instead, you sat with Santana on your left and Quinn to your right. You had to admit that it felt nice. Usually, you wouldn't ponder on things so benign. But you had spent most of high school getting teased by Michael and the rest of his sought after friends. Not a day went by that slushies weren't thrown in your face, now you could finally walk the halls without fear of humiliation.

Besides that, you were also really ecstatic to help Mr. Shue with auditions. Glee club was what had brought a group of entirely different people together. So you'd be more than glad to share that with a new ensemble of students before you all went your final ways.

-----

The rest of your day went by quicker than usual. There wasn't much to learn on the first day. Once the clock hit 3:30, You rushed to the auditorium as if your life depended on it. You had to admit that you missed the stage, singing, and dancing with your friends. You made your way the middle of the seating area, taking your place beside Artie.

A majority of the auditions were lackluster. Only a handful stood out. Like that girl Marley and that kid Jake. You were just about ready to leave and go home until something caught your attention. "Michael Langdon?" Your eyes lit up immediately as you heard the name. You watched as the blue-eyed boy made his way to the stage, smug look on his face.

There was no way in hell Michael fucking Langdon, the same boy who referred to glee as "homo explosion," would ever willingly audition. His rendition of "Suit and Tie" was incredible, which only pissed you off more. Not only was he insanely attractive, but he just had to be talented too, fucking men.

You watched as your fellow glee members watched in amusement. It was the girls who seemed most excited. Eventually, it all became too much, and before the boy could finish entertaining your friends, you stormed off into the parking lot. Far too upset with the blonde to drive home with him, you sent your friend Mike a text asking if he could get you. He lived pretty close to the school, so you knew it would only take a few minutes.

-----

By the time Mike had pulled up to the building, the other glee kids were exiting. You quickly reached for the door of his car, rushing to get to the passenger seat. "You alright?" He asked, worried by how fidgety you were. You nodded. "Yea, I just wanna go home." Mike was always very comforting. The two of you became friends during your freshman year, mostly because of how many classes you shared. You both had a love for music and were smart, so it wasn't long before you two clicked.

Within a few minutes, you had arrived at your house, Mike flashing you a smile. "Thank you for coming to get me. It means a lot." The dark-haired boy shrugged. "It's no biggie, see you tomorrow, cheerio." You rolled your eyes sarcastically. "Whatever, jock-face." And with that, you entered your home.

The house was currently empty. He was taking the night shift at the hospital so, he probably wouldn't come back till late at night. You walked up the stairs to your room, dropping your bag on the floor. After everything that had gone down today, you were exhausted. You quickly took off the scanty cheer uniform and slipped on your much softer penguin pajamas.

You practically threw yourself on the bed, hoping to get some rest, but were promptly distracted by a notification on your phone. The text, from an unknown number nonetheless, read 'look outside your window.' You quickly sat up, confused, and turned your head only for your eyes to be met by Michael Langdon, who just happened to be balls deep inside some random brunette.

You gave the boy a disgusted look before pulling down your blinds. Never in your life had you been more repulsed. Your mind tried long and hard to block out any memory of what you just witnessed. After around forty-five minutes, you received another text message from non-other than Michael.

'It's a shame you missed my performance."

'Go fuck yourself, Langdon.'

'If you say so ;)'

The rest of the night, you wondered what you had done to be the new subject of Mr. Pillsbury Fuckboys torment. You had spent most of your high school years avoiding him at cost. Suddenly it seemed like you weren't getting rid of him anytime soon. You were just lucky you only had to endure this for a few more months, and then you'd be on your way.

Or so you thought.

#Hawthorn!Michael x Reader #michael langdon x reader #michael langdong imagine #michael langdon smut #michael langdon blurb #michael langdon

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