#you're also alone on a friday night | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

surftrips · 5 months

Note

Maybe you could do single dad jj maybank he’s in college and has to do a project with the reader and has to bring the baby with them and they bond and start to hang out a lot then they start to date also maybe she’s a single mom I feel like that would be like a unique thing

thank you so much for this request! i hope you don't mind that i switched it up a bit (and got carried away lol) but reader is the single mom here and her and jj have known each other their whole lives :)

when you know, you know

pairing: jj maybank x reader

summary: y/n needs a babysitter and jj is the only person available.

word count: 3.5k

"Okay, I understand. Thanks, anyway," you sighed, running your hands through your hair and hanging up the phone. Your babysitter had just canceled on you, and the timing could not have been worse.

You had been planning this night for months. Between your classes, a part-time job, and taking care of your 2-year-old Margo, it was nearly impossible to schedule anything. But you desperately needed a night out and your friend Emma had so kindly offered to set you up on a blind date.

You scrolled through your contacts list, looking for anyone that was sober on a Friday night, a seemingly impossible task. Glancing at the time, you realized that you only had an hour left to find a babysitter and get ready.

As panic set in, you received a text from the P4L groupchat.

JJ: Wtw tonight?

Not now JJ, you thought.

Y/N: Trying to find a babysitter, mine just canceled :/

Kie: Oh no, Y/N!! I'm so sorry :(

Cleo: Sorry babes, I totally wouldd but I already lost count of how many drnks I've had 2nite xxx

JJ: Wait, you guys went out already?

Sarah: JJ, we told you it's a girls night.

JJ: In that case, Y/N, I'll watch Margo!

Absolutely not, was your first thought. JJ Maybank was probably the last person you wanted to take care of your child, he was practically one himself.

Besides, since you had Margo, he was always acting weird around you. Before, you two would hang out all the time, but now he only saw you if there was another person there as a buffer. He hardly visited or called, but you were so preoccupied with raising a baby on your own that you hadn't had a chance to talk to him about it.

In the beginning, people assumed it was his baby you were pregnant with, but you never crossed that line because your friendship meant the world to each other. He was the first person you told when you found out you were going to be a mother, and you remember how excited he was for you. It was hard to believe how distant he had become, and you wondered why he had volunteered himself tonight.

You assessed the situation: you hadn't gone out in nearly two years, and who knew when the next opportunity would be? You sighed, hardly believing the words you were about to type on your phone.

Y/N: Ok. How soon can you be here?

Y/N: You better be sober, JJ.

You turned your phone off before the others could protest, knowing that half of them were drunk anyway.

"Uncle JJ is going to come over and watch you tonight, okay? Mommy is going to be gone for just a few hours," you said to your daughter, picking her up and placing her in your eye line so you could do your makeup.

"Jay Jay?" she repeated.

"Yes, honey," you smiled, trying to reassure her, or yourself. Out of all the pogues, Kiara and Sarah babysat Margo the most. She had probably only met JJ a handful of times and you worried about how well she would do with him alone.

As if he could read your mind, your phone began ringing and you looked over to see his face on your screen.

"JJ, please don't tell me you're canceling too."

"What? Oh, no, it's not that. I was just wondering if you needed me to bring anything for Margo?"

"Oh," you relaxed. "Hmmm, I think we have everything we need here. But thank you for asking, JJ."

"Of course," you could hear him smiling on the other line. "You know, thanks for letting me watch Margo. I've been meaning to visit her more."

"JJ, you know you're weren't my first choice," you teased. "But yeah, of course. Thanks, I owe you."

You hung up the phone, thoughts from earlier creeping back into your mind. You always assumed that the baby scared JJ away, but sometimes you couldn't help but wonder if there was something more going on.

However, now was not the time for you to be thinking about this, considering that you now had 30 minutes left until your date showed up and you had yet to pick out a dress.

"Hmmmm, let's see. Any suggestions, Margo?" you asked your daughter, combing through your closet for something appropriate. You settled on a short black dress with a boat neck, and black knee high boots to go along with it.

"What do we think, sweetie?" you smiled at Margo.

"Pretty!" she clapped her small hands together.

"Why, thank you, baby. Come on, let's go see if Uncle JJ is here yet," you picked her up and checked your phone for any notifications.

Blind Date: Be there in 5! :)

Crap, you thought. Where is JJ?

You shot back a confirmation for your date and looked out the window for any sign of JJ. You weren't sure if he was biking over or he had borrowed the Twinkie, but there was no sign of anyone outside.

Growing anxious, you gathered Margo's favorite toys and books into the living room and tidied up your apartment to pass the time.

Exactly 5 minutes later, the doorbell rang. You smoothed down your dress and checked your hair in the mirror one last time. Putting on your best smile, you went to open the door.

"Hi–" you started. "Oh, it's you."

"Come on, that's what I get for dropping everything and saving your ass?" JJ responded.

"Sorry, weren't you the one with no plans on a Friday?"

"You know, I can just turn around right now-"

"Stop!" you pleaded. "Okay, sorry, I've been anxious about this all day and I just want to get back to Margo as fast as I can."

"Relax, Y/N. I'm here now," he took in your appearance. "You look great, by the way."

The last time he saw you remotely dressed up like this was prom night.

You couldn't help but blush, looking around for Margo to hide your face. "Margo, look who it is!"

"Jay Jay!" she babbled.

"Oh my god, she knows my name!" JJ replied, looking a little perplexed.

"You know what, I'm surprised too considering she's only met you, like, four times," you said.

"Alright, you're no fun," he looked at you as you traded your daughter over to his arms. "Miss Margo and I here are going to have the time of our lives. Aren't we?"

He tickled her, causing her to giggle. She seemed so comfortable in his arms, you wondered why you were ever worried in the first place.

"Thanks again for doing this, I know we haven't talked in a while-" you started.

"So, where's the lucky guy?" he interrupted you.

"Uhh," you looked over at the clock. "He said he would be here by now."

"Late to the first date? That's a red flag, Y/N."

"As if you're not a walking red flag, JJ. What did you get here on? Your bike?"

"Hey! I refurbished that bike all on my own! It takes a lot of skill to do that."

Just then, the doorbell rang. You rushed to open the door, a smile plastered on your face again.

"Hey! You must be Emma's friend! I'm Tom." he greeted you with a hug and a bouquet of flowers. "I'm sorry for being late, I went to get these flowers for you and was distracted by the girl scouts selling cookies outside. I had to support them, you know?"

"Oh, no worries! Yes, how can you say no to them?" you laughed softly. You took the flowers from him and went to place them on the table closest to you, beckoning him to come in.

"Tom, this is one of my friends, JJ. He's babysitting my daughter, Margo, while we're gone," you said.

"Ah! What a pleasure," Tom went over to shake JJ's hand and politely wave at your daughter. "I promise not to keep your mom out too late tonight."

"That's right, need her back before midnight," JJ remarked.

You playfully pushed him in response, grabbing your keys. "Alright, you have my number so please call me if you need anything. Bye Margo, mommy loves you!"

With that, you and Tom headed outside and into his car.

On the drive over to the restaurant, you learned that Tom was a psychologist, he liked to cook, and reality TV shows were his guilty pleasure. At the restaurant, which was a higher-end place near the water, he pulled out your chair for you.

"I hope this place is okay, I wasn't sure what kind of food you liked so I thought somewhere nicer would be safe," he said.

"Oh, this is perfect. Don't even worry about it," you smiled. "I haven't had a proper night out in so long, I wouldn't have minded if you took me to a burger joint."

He laughed, "Margo is adorable, by the way. How old is she?"

"She's 2," you said. Then, feeling the need to clarify, "I had her when I was 20, at the beginning of my junior year in college."

"I see, how was that? How did you manage classes?" You were surprised at his demeanor, half-expecting him to judge you or run in the opposite direction any second now, but his inquisition was genuine.

"Well, I could still go to classes during the first trimester, but it got more difficult after that so I took a leave of absence. I'm taking night classes now because I work in the mornings."

"Oh nice, what degree are you going for?"

"English, I want to be a teacher," you explained.

"My mom was a teacher," he smiled. "What age do you want to teach?"

"Oh no way! I want to teach elementary school kids. Everyone always tells me how hard it will be, but raising Margo... I don't love anything more than that."

"That's really sweet, are you close with your family?"

You paused, trying to figure out how to answer the question. "Depends on who you consider my family, I guess," you laughed awkwardly. "I'm not close with my parents, but my friends? Those are the most important people in my life."

He smiled, "I understand. I'm glad you have a support system, being a single mother can be hard."

"Yeah, I'm super grateful. Actually, my babysitter for tonight canceled last-minute and JJ came to the rescue. I don't know what I would've done without him."

Tom's smile faltered for an unnoticeable second. "How long have you known him for?"

"JJ? My whole life, probably. I can't imagine a time when he wasn't by my side. He was there for me throughout my entire pregnancy, but after..." you trailed off.

"After...?"

"Afterwards," you hesitated, not wanting to bad-mouth your friend. "I guess he started to distance himself more, I think Margo scared him away honestly."

"You think it was Margo and nothing else?"

"What do you mean?"

"I just mean," he sighed. "Do you think there could be any other reason why he would be so supportive of you before and not after you had Margo?"

"I-I'm not sure. I haven't had much time to think about it, I guess."

"You want my opinion?" Tom asked. You searched his face for any sign of spitefulness, but came up empty.

"I saw the way he looked at you and Margo, earlier. That boy is not scared of either of you. In fact, all I saw was love. Did you ever think he’s grappling with those feelings?”

"His feelings? For me?" It was not the first time you thought about it, but it was the first time you heard it verbalized.

"Yes, I know I sound crazy, but seriously, Y/N, what other reason could there be to explain his behavior?"

You racked your brain for all the possible explanations. Tom had a point, if JJ had feelings for you at some point in your friendship, or still does, he might feel the need to distance himself to protect you.

"Why are you telling me all this?"

"I told you, I'm a psychologist. I notice these things," he smiled.

"Is this how all of your first dates go?" you laughed.

"Not all of them, but I’ll admit, a few are like this. But tell me, am I wrong to assume there was something more going on between you two before you got pregnant?"

You sighed, "No, you're not wrong. Our feelings for each other were a truth that neither of us wanted to confront. We were young, we didn't want to be tied down, it was college. But he was always there, by my side, through everything. Of course, I loved him."

"Well, there you go. There's your answer."

Tom dropped you off around midnight. You assured him that there was no need to walk you to your door, you both knew that you needed to have a conversation with JJ.

"Thank you again for tonight, we seriously need to meet up again," you said, before shutting your door.

"Absolutely, I'll give you the address to my office," he joked.

You turned the key into your door as quietly as possible, in case JJ was also asleep with Margo. Inside, the lights were off and you pulled out your phone flashlight to search for him.

You went into Margo's room first, seeing that she was fast asleep in her crib. "Hi baby," you whispered. "Where's Uncle JJ?"

After making sure she was tucked in properly, you turned to go into your bedroom. Sure enough, there was JJ, fast asleep in your bed.

You couldn't help but smile, recalling memories from high school when you two would have sleepovers. Being sure to keep quiet, you changed into your pajamas and got ready for bed.

Trying your best to not wake up JJ, you pulled open the blanket on your side of the bed and slipped in next to him.

"Goodnight, JJ," you whispered.

—

In the morning, you woke up to the smell of pancakes in the kitchen. For a second, you weren't sure you were even in your apartment, remembering that you live alone with Margo and surely, you weren't asleep long enough for her to know her way around the kitchen.

But then you remembered that JJ was babysitting last night and had fallen asleep in your bed before you got home.

After a long stretch, you got up and went into the kitchen.

"There she is, good morning pretty," JJ smiled at you.

"Morning... When did you learn how to cook?" you questioned.

"What do you mean? I've always known how to make pancakes."

"Okay, that is just a straight up lie. In high school you would have chips for breakfast."

JJ put his hand to his chest, taking mock offense. "If you must know, I started teaching myself how to cook last year when I moved off-campus."

"Wow, I must say, I am impressed, Mr. Maybank."

"Please, that's my father. You can call me JJ," he said, causing you both to laugh.

Were his eyes always this blue? You thought, as you admired his features in the morning light.

After a moment, you broke the silence. "Uh- I better go check on Margo. How was she last night, by the way?"

"Oh, amazing. Best kid ever."

"Really? She didn't give you a hard time at all?"

"Nope, must have remembered me from when she was in the womb."

You smiled, turning around to your daughter's room.

Sure enough, Margo was sleeping like the baby she was. You checked the clock, she wouldn't be up for at least another hour.

"Margo's still in one piece?" JJ asked when you reentered the kitchen.

"Yes, somehow,” you mused.

"Good, want to try these pancakes now?"

"Yes, please, I'm starving," you sat down across from JJ.

"Starving? Your date didn't feed you last night?"

"Very funny, if you want to know about my date, you can just ask."

"Okay, how was your date?" he relented.

"He's a psychologist."

"Cool, anything else?" JJ looked slightly confused.

"He was very normal and nice," you added.

“I would hope so.”

“Yes, and he likes to cook too.”

“That’s great, how was the date itself?”

“Oh the date itself…” you trailed off.

"Y/N, why are you acting weird?"

"Weird? Me? I'm just telling you about my date."

"You're talking about him like he's your therapist."

"Well, in a way, it was like a therapy session."

"So the date went bad?"

"No, it was really nice."

JJ looked around the kitchen, "Did I accidentally put something in the pancake batter to make you act like this or...?"

"These are great, by the way," you said, pointing to the pancakes with your fork.

"Thanks, but can we get back to the date?"

"Oh, yeah, well, basically," you started.

"Y/N." JJ was rarely ever serious, but he was starting to look concerned with you.

"Okay, fine. It started off really well, we got to know each other. Then, he was asking about Margo and my family, and I told him about my parents, you know. Then he asked about you, and I told him I've known you forever, but after Margo, you started distancing yourself and we haven't seen or talked to each other in a while, and then-" you rambled.

"Then what?"

"And then, he told me, or rather he made me realize, that maybe we need to address the feelings we may or may not have had for each other before I got pregnant," you finished in a rush.

JJ was silent, you weren't sure if the expression on his face was scared or bemused.

"JJ, please say something."

"Was that all?"

"More or less."

He sighed, "Y/N, I think one of the reasons why our friendship worked so well was because we both knew that at any moment, we could pursue something more, but we didn't. We both knew that doing that would ruin our friendship, something we've had for nearly twenty years. I thought college was going to be four years of partying and distractions, but instead, I had to face reality”

“Distractions?”

“Everyone that wasn’t you was a distraction, in case that wasn’t clear.”

“Uh, no. It wasn't, actually. JJ, you kept telling me you were trying to meet ‘the one!’”

“Well, I was lying! Okay? You were always the one for me. I just didn’t feel like I was the one for you. So I was stupid and I decided we would be better off as friends, but when you got pregnant…”

“When I got pregnant…?”

“When you told me about Margo, I panicked. I knew you were strong enough to do this on your own, but you shouldn’t have had to. I told myself that I was going to be there for you every step of the way, and I was, until you gave birth. I saw Margo for the first time, and I-I’m sorry. I just couldn’t do it.”

“Do what, JJ? You know I never needed you to be her father.”

“I know, I know. I saw her and I couldn’t imagine hurting her. I didn’t want her to know me, because to know me is to be disappointed by me,” he sighed.

“JJ,” you stood up now to wrap your arms around him. “Are you kidding me? I was never, never disappointed by you. I was just worried, babe, that’s all. You stopped talking to me after that.”

JJ allowed himself to fall into your arms. “I’m sorry, it just felt like too much at the time. I loved- love you and Margo so much, that I didn’t know what to do with all of it. So I thought it was best to give you some space, until I was better.”

You chuckled, “Is that why you taught yourself how to cook?”

“Stop, I was actually starving and had no choice.”

“And are you better now?”

“When I heard you were going on a date, do you want to know what I thought?”

“What?”

“I thought, I let her go again. I let you go a million times in college, and here I am, letting you go again.”

When you didn’t say anything, he continued, “You’re the one for me, Y/N. I came over here tonight to show you that. I’m ready for whatever this is going to be, whatever this friendship evolves into. I spent too much time denying the truth, and I think you have too.”

There were not enough words to describe how you were feeling, so you leaned in to kiss your best friend. JJ held your face with such gentleness, you wondered if this was all in your imagination.

Eventually, you pulled away. “I’m done lying, to myself and to each other. This is real, yes?” you asked.

“Yes, I love you, really.”

“I love you too, Maybank.”

You leaned in for a second time, but not before you heard the familiar cries of Margo in the other room.

“Don’t worry, I got it,” he smiled with that boyish grin of his that you loved so much. That you have always loved.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj x reader #jj maybank imagine #obx #outer banks #obx x reader #obx imagine #rudy pankow #rudy pankow x reader #jj maybank x you

709 notes · View notes

miupow · 2 months

Text

[duality.] ─── ⋆ h. kai

an unexpected discovery about a friend sends you spiraling-- sure, hueningkai was cute, but he wasn't your type. at least, you thought he wasn't.

✩ pairing. huening kai x fem!reader

✩ words. 10k

✩ warnings. nsfw, mdnfi! smut with plot, f2l, graphic depictions of bdsm/rough sex, hard dom!kai, sub!reader, fem!reader, swearing, explicit language, mentions of alcohol/drinking, jealousy, wingman tyun and roommate yeonjun, gags, blindfolds, bondage, handcuffs, spanking, paddles, protected sex, manhandling, dry humping, sir kink, pet names, praise kink, dirty talk, degradation, degredation/name calling, jake from enhpyen cameo, possible dubcon elements, possessive behavior, nipple play, breath play/choking, cute ending hehe

✩ a/n. here it is!! duality, all three parts put together into one big oneshot!! i've been putting off finishing this fic for the longest time which is so criminal of me i know... i hope this makes up for it ♡ feedback in the forms of comments and reblogs are always appreciated! this is not proofread! please lmk if there are any mistakes!

You don't remember when Friday night get-togethers became "let's all listen to Beomgyu complain" get-togethers, but you could hardly complain-- hearing about your friend's failed attempts at wooing his coworker made you feel infinitely better about your own love life.

"I just don't get it," Beomgyu sighs deeply, swishing his beer around like he was debating on some deep philisophical theory. He was squished into the side of Taehyun's too-small couch, legs hanging off of the armrest and head awkwardly lying on Soobin's broad shoulder. "I'm hilarious and I'm smoking hot-- why is it so hard for me to find a girlfriend?!"

"That's because you're a loser." Your roommate, Yeonjun snorted. He was splayed out on the other end of the couch, effortlessly beating Soobin, Beomgyu and Hueningkai in Mario Kart, legs manspread so wide Taehyun (who was squished against Soobin's other side) looked about ready to hit him.

"I don't know, have you tried asking her out instead of following her around like a creep? She probably thinks you're stalking her." Taehyun snickered, very engrossed in his phone. You could see him trying to close Yeonjun's legs with his knee. It was not working.

"Also, you have no game." Soobin added, tonguing the inside of his cheek as he concentrated on the game. You were fairly sure part of the reason why he was losing so badly was because both of his arms were constricted to his sides. "Absolutely zero rizz, dude."

"Zero rizz," Hueningkai echoed with a giggle. Forever the smart and resourceful one, he chose to sit cross-legged on the carpet instead of squeezing himself on the couch-- you followed suit, not wanting to be in a sweaty sandwich with your roommate and his buddies. "I bet you haven't even said a word to her."

you sat with Kai near Yeonjun's legs, head propped up on the front of the couch as you snacked on popcorn. Hueningkai successfuly threw a blue shell at Yeonjun's kart-- your roommate's legs kicked out sharply, almost hitting you square in the head, and he let out a sharp "FUCK!"

"I have!" Beomgyu defended, sounding very much like a petulant child. "I talk to her all of the time! I asked her for her number, I made her a spotify playlist, I walk her to her car every night after our shifts--"

"None of that is asking her out though, hyung." Taehyun still hasn't looked up from his phone. "Did she give you her number?"

"No!" Beomgyu whined loudly, making everyone wince. "She said I haven't earned it yet!"

"It sounds like she's playing hard to get, maybe? Girls like it when guys pine." You supply, talking instead of listening for the first time in a while. You loved Beomgyu like a brother, and while it was funny to listen to his failed flirting you did want him to actually, you know, be happy. Plus he seemed to care about this girl beyond what her cupsize was, which was a pretty big deal for Beomgyu.

"More like she wants him to leave her alone." Hueningkai snickered back. “Hyung, I’ve not seen you this down bad since, like, grade school.”

“At least he’s not filling us in on his latest hookup,” Soobin shrugged, or at least tried to-- Beomgyu was now purposefully sitting on him. “Beomgyu might be a simp but I honestly see this as an improvement.”

“I’m not a fucking simp!” Beomgyu squawked, feigning hitting Soobin over the head with his controller. “I at least get more pussy than you losers— when was the last time Kai managed to bag a girl without her running away screaming first?”

The boys all laughed-- even Taehyun, which was weird--as if Beomgyu had made a joke that made sense. Kai? Scaring away girls? You’ve known him for years now, him being Yeonjun's friend and all, and while you didn't know him inside and out you were fairly sure he still slept with stuffed animals. Jesus, last time you had come over his only priority was showing off his Gundam.

“I think Kai would be the one running away screaming, honestly,” you laugh, expecting the others to follow, but you were quickly met with awkward silence. The boys all looked at you oddly, especially Beomgyu, who looked both deeply betrayed and like he had just gained some arcane secret. “…What? This is Huening we’re talking about, come on.”

“Yeah, Huening.” Beomgyu started, looking at you like you had grown an extra head. “It's always over when he starts going Fifty Shades on them."

"He starts going what?!" You sat up very suddenly, whipping your head around to stare at Hueningkai incredulously-- he was refusing to look at you, starting very intently at the TV screen, even though the game had ended minutes ago. The tips of his ears were cherry red. "You start going what?!"

"Oh my God, she doesn't know!" Yeonjun cackled madly, turning to look incredulously at Taehyun, who looked back with a wild grin. "She doesn't know!"

"I don't know what?" You felt a little betrayed by Taehyun, you had to be honest-- if anyone would have kept their head on, it would have been him. "Kai, what are they talking about?"

Kai was still refusing to make eye contact with you, instead glaring sharp daggers at his friends-- he genuinely looked angry, which was an emotion you weren't used to seeing on Hueningkai. "Don't worry about it, they're being dicks--"

"Hueningie likes to beat girls!" Beomgyu sang, his cute corner dimples popping out in his delighted, evil smile and making him look absolutely devilish. "He likes to treat girls like sluts!"

Kai was very very silent and worryingly still, nearly burning holes in the carpet with his stare. You furrowed your brow, blanched— that wasn’t the reaction you were expecting from him at all.

"There's no way you have no idea, Y/N, I mean-- you're joking, right? You've known him for forever now." Soobin cut in, looking genuinely confused.

"You've been in his room! Like, a thousand times!" Yeonjun laughed. "He's so fucking bad about putting all of his gross shit away-- once I saw handcuffs still attached to the headboard!"

You blinked.

This had to be some sort of joke. They were fucking with you, they had to be. "Are you trying to tell me that Hueningkai, OUR Hueningkai, is-- no he's not?! Have you met him? He collects Squishmallows!"

"You haven't looked under his bed yet, then." Taehyun snickered, once again on his phone-- you spluttered, both at his words and his nonchalance. Kai was still eerily silent.

"You've got to be joking. This is a joke. I don't think Kai's seen a pair of boobs in his life--"

"I’m not a virgin, you know." Hueningkai muttered stiffly, looking at you for the first time in a while. The residual anger he had for his friends lingered on his blushing, usually lax face, staring you down with an intensity you didn't think he could muster-- your stomach flipped hard, nearly having you recoil under his stare.

It took you an embarrassing second to register what he even said. "Oh. Um--"

"I'm not some fucking loser." Hueningkai repeated, voice calm but deep, deep dark, and it hit you quite suddenly that he was actually upset with you, not his friends. You had never heard Kai swear before. "Is it really that hard for you to believe? You don't know me.“

“Um, I—“ you spluttered, opening and closing your mouth like a fish.

“It’s like you think I'm some spineless, bitchless nerd or something-- it pisses me off, honestly, and I'm getting really fucking sick of it."

You were unable to choke out any words at all as Hueningkai pulled himself up sharply from the floor and stomped away into his room-- It was awkwardly silent for a few deeply conflicting moments, but Beomgyu was quick to pick back up the laughter.

"Someone's mad! Better watch out, Y/N, Hueningie might punish you for that!"

“Are you a slut?” Hueningkai hisses, big hand palming your bare ass– you whimper around your gag, tug at the restraints that bind your arms behind your back. “Is that what you are? All you can think about is getting cock, huh?”

Tears were starting to soak the silk of your blindfold, sticking wet and cold to your skin– you had never felt this raw and desperate in your life. “No!” you try to say, but it comes out a muffled whine.

Huening leans in close, hot breath caressing your ear, fabric of his shirt ghosting your back; his grip on your asscheek tightens, fingers digging into the flesh. “I’m sorry baby, didn’t hear you. What was that?”

“I’m not a slut!” you try again, shaking your head wildly, slurred words incomprehensible– drool ran down your chin and neck, dripped onto the bedsheets beneath you, and moving your mouth to speak only made more spill out. You felt disgusting, pathetic, humliated beyond belief… and your wet cunt ached.

“No?” Kai coos, the palm gripping your ass trailing down between your thighs. His fingertips brushed softly against your fluttering folds– the first real touch to your neglected pussy. You sob around the gag. It was nowhere near enough. “Then why are you so wet right now? I’ve barely touched you and you’re soaked. You want me to fuck you that bad, huh baby?”

And you wake up before you can answer.

“This is about Huening, isn’t it.” Taehyun states plainly when he answers your call. For a split second, you wished he was less reliable about picking up the phone.

“I haven’t even said anything,” you whine, a little petulant even to your own ears. Taehyun had always been able to read you like a book, read everyone like a book, and it never failed to piss you off and embarrass you.

“You never call me unless it’s about your problems.”

Oh. Well. You suppose that’s true. He was just such a great listener.

“He’s not a problem, I’m just– is he in the room with you right now?”

You can hear Taehyun’s eyeroll reverberate through his sigh. “He’s at class. If you’re calling to apologize, I can leave a message.”

You scoff. “Apologize for what?! I didn’t do anything!”

“I think you hurt his feelings. He hasn’t left his room all week except to go to his classes.” Taehyun sounded more amused than anything else. “You should at least tell him you’re sorry for emasculating him.”

“Emasculating him?!” And this was why you didn’t go to Taehyun when it came to problems involving his own friends. “He’s the one being a big baby about it! How was I supposed to know you guys weren’t joking? Why didn’t you tell me anything?”

“Tell you what, that Kai’s a freak? We thought you knew. Plus, it’s not like it’s even that big of a deal. You’re both just being weird about it.”

“I’m not being weird about it!” You retort. “I’m just, like– how long have you known?”

Taehyun was quiet for a very long, uncomfortable moment. “Y/N, if you’re about to quiz me on my roommate’s sex life, I will hang up on you.”

“I’m not, I’m not!” You’re glad you’re curled up in bed and not out in public; you’d hate anyone to see you this flustered just over the phone. “I’m just confused on how it was apparently ’so obvious’ and I completely missed it.”

“That’s because he’d been trying to hide it from you. He’s just been doing a shit job– thought you figured it out anyway.”

You blink. “He’s… what? Why?”

Taehyun makes a noise like he’s sucking at his teeth, staticky over the phone. You briefly wonder if he’s actually going to hang up on you. “I promised Kai I wouldn’t tell you this.”

“Tell me what?!” You press with a hiss, grasping your phone harder in your hand– you were getting really sick and tired of everyone beating around the bush with you, like you hadn’t already learned more about Kai in the last few days than you had in the last few years. “Tyun, if it involves me, I think I deserve to know.”

Taehyun hesitates for a moment before letting out a defeated sigh, deep and weighted like some veteran soldier. You want to laugh, really, but you’re too on edge to do much more than hang onto every word Taehyun says. “Kai’s gonna kill me for this.”

“I don’t care. Spill.”

“He’s… interested in you. Has been since he met you, I think. He was playing up that annoying good boy act ‘cos he didn’t want to ’scare you away.’”

You let out a breath like it had been knocked out of you with a fist, head spinning wildly. Kai was always so sweet and polite, got you gifts, made sure you always felt appreciated and included… but he had never given you the impression that he was into you. He was just like that with everyone.

But now that you thought about it…

Those smiles he seemed to save just for you, adorable and ecstatic like you had completed some insurmountable task for him instead of just getting him a candy bar or a glass of water, the gentlest ’thank you so much'es that made your tummy flip in the best way. Pretty brown eyes wide and sparkling every time he looked at you– he would always furiously turn away like he didn’t want you to catch him staring.

You caught him staring quite a lot. You always assumed you must have had something on your face.

Sweet Hyuka who told you you looked pretty even when you knew you didn’t, stepping into his and Taehyun’s apartment in pajamas because Yeonjun hadn’t told you it was movie night until he was getting ready to leave. Hyuka who would give up his seat so you could sit on the couch. Hyuka who was always the first to stand up for you if one of the other boys made a snide joke in your expense. Hyuka who hugged you first before he addressed anyone else. Hyuka who would sometimes only come out of his room if he was told that you were there. You always thought that Hyuka was a great friend.

Suddenly, the other night made a lot more sense. Just as suddenly, you also felt very, very guilty.

“Oh.” You whisper into the phone, because it had hit you that you hadn’t said anything for quite some time.

“Yeah, 'oh.’ Now he thinks you think he’s a gross pervert.” Taehyun snickers. He’s enjoying your plight far too much.

“I don’t think that.” you retort softly, a little sad.

“You should tell him that, not me.”

“How am I supposed to tell him anything if he won’t pick up the phone?!”

Taehyun’s quiet again, like he’s thinking. “Listen, Yeonjun’s taking us out for drinks Friday to celebrate Kai passing his midterms. I think he’s trying to cheer him up. Ask him to come with; you can talk to Kai then.”

“…Would Kai even want me there?” You ask.

“Probably not, to be honest. Doesn’t matter though, he’s not the one paying, he can go cry about it. Plus, I think hyung was gonna bring you anyway– he thinks this entire thing is hilarious.”

You hesitate for a moment. Not only foes this have bad idea written all over it, you also don’t have anything to wear. “Promise you’ll get me out of there if things get nasty?”

“How would things get nasty?” Taehyun laughs. “The most Kai would do is whine that he wants to go home.”

You should have stayed home.

Taehyun was right– when you brought up the club to Yeonjun, he had enthusiastically mentioned that he was, in fact, going to ask you to come with, and that he was very happy to hear you agree to go. Maybe that should have been your warning.

Huening hadn’t so much as looked to you the entire night. You spotted him immediately when you had stepped into the building, platinum blond hair and an oversized grey hoodie tucked awkwardly into a corner booth, big frame shrunk in on itself like he was trying to come off as small as he possibly could. You felt bad for him, really, watching him stare surly into the same drink he had been nursing the entire night– Kai hates clubs, yet the other boys kept insisting on celebrating with drinks and dancing instead of something Kai would actually enjoy, like a movie. You’re fairly sure Kai was already aware that the night wasn’t really about him and his test scores.

On top of the awkward atmosphere, you feel naked in this dress. You borrowed it from a friend, since you had nothing nice to wear— it was cute, but backless and low cut, and not to mention about two sizes too small. You were afraid to take large breaths, lest your breasts fall out of the top entirely.

You think you caught Huening staring from the booth as you sat at the bar with Yeonjun, but it might just have been wishful thinking.

“Just go up and talk to him,” Yeonjun suggests between swigs of his beer. He keeps looking over his shoulder at the dancefloor like he’s hunting for something— most likely a girl to take home with him.

“And what, grovel for his forgiveness? He looks like he wants to kill me.” you grumble around your own glass, half-hoping the liquor would at least spark some confidence. You felt the opposite of confident, in your stupid tight dress, scared of approaching a boy that professed his undying love for Molang on the daily.

“Maybe he just wants to fuck you. You look hot.” Yeonjun snickers, glancing quickly over at Kai’s booth— from the annoying grin on his face, you can only assume Huening is looking your way. “Go over there and tell him you’ll suck his dick if he’ll forgive you.”

“You’re gross.”

“You love me.” Yeonjun sneaks another look at the dancefloor; it seems he’s locked in on a target. “Gotta bounce. Yell if you need me to come and save you.”

“I don’t want your saving,” you retort snidely as he slid his way through the crowd.

You didn’t have any time to relish in your solitude, barely able to even take another sad sip of your cocktail— an unfamiliar body fills Yeonjun’s empty barstool in what felt like an instant, big mouth grinning like he’d been waiting for a while.

You suppose the eyes that you had felt on you hadn’t been Kai’s after all. Yeonjun’s grins could be decieving.

He orders a beer from the bartender, pretty yet odd accent slurring his words— you weren’t sure where it was from, but you sure did like it. “And another of whatever she’s drinking.” he adds, shooting a grin your way.

“Oh no, I’m alright—” you attempt to shut him down, but your voice wavers. He waves you off with a sweet laugh.

“It’s on me, baby. You look like you need it.”

You laugh nervously. You weren’t sure if that was supposed to be a diss or not, even including the petname. “Oh, do I?”

“You look stressed. Something got you down?”

You’re not sure how to respond to that. You’re not sure how to respond to any of this, really. Flirting wasn’t really your forte. “Just a little.”

The bartender puts down both of your drinks at once— your handsome new friend pushes yours your way, and you take it gratefully. This isn’t exactly how you wanted your night to go, but this man was hot, free drinks were free drinks, and maybe going home with someone new was a better outcome for your night than moping around alone and having to listen to your roommate get his dick wet. “Did some asshole abandon you over here? You’re far too pretty to be sitting here all sad and alone.” Your stranger croons, eyes heavy as they rake down your body, take in your dress. You squirm under his gaze. “My name’s Jake. What’s yours?”

“Y/N.” You don’t bother addressing his earlier comment; the idea of talking about your boy problems to this very handsome boy made your skin crawl. “I like your accent, where are you from?”

“Brisbane.” Jake gave you another pretty, blinding grin. He had a very big mouth with very white teeth.

“…Pardon?”

“Australia.” Jake laughs. “I’m an Aussie. I was born here though.”

“Oh, I see! Are you here just to visit or do you live here? I mean, if you don’t mind me asking, of course—“

“No worries, pretty girl.” He needed to stop with the petnames before you climbed him like a tree. “I live here for right now. Do you want another one of those?”

“Hm?” You looked down at your glass. You hadn’t even noticed that it was empty, just mindlessly holding it up against your lips while you latched on to every word Jake said. “Oh! Um. I’m okay, thank you!”

Jake seems displeased with your answer. You wonder briefly if he was just trying to get you drunk. It was working. “You sure? You’re still lookin’ a little sad there, baby.”

“I’m–”

“She said she’s fine.”

A big hand grabs your arm without much warning, making you squeak out loud— you whip your head back fast, ready to fight, but quickly freeze at the sight of Huening towering over you with a dark but unreadable expression. His grip was bordering on painful.

“Excuse me?” Jake retorts, face screwed up in irritation and clearly unwilling to back down from a challenge. “You know this guy?”

Unfortunately, you did. “Kai—“ you start, but quickly clam up; Kai shoots you a look you’ve never seen from him before, dark and feral. It twists hot in your belly just as much as it scares you.

“She’s done. We’re leaving.” Kai hisses dangerously near your ear, loud enough for Jake to hear. You’re too shocked to respond.

“Hey, what the hell’s your problem, man?” Jake’s griping, but it’s not doing much good— Kai tugs you up out of your seat and drags you by the wrist through the crowds and out of the back door of the club. You want to fight him, yell and kick and scream, but all you can manage is to stare incredulously at the back of his head. He hardly gave you the leeway to grab your purse. Or pay your tab.

“Kai, what the—“ He pushes you hard against the brick wall of the club, presses himself flush against your back— you can feel the stiff bulge of his hard cock against your ass, his hot breath fan across your neck in jagged, heavy breaths.

“You think this is fucking funny, Y/N?” he snarls, deep and nasty. His hands press yours against the brick, keeping you still against both him and the wall. “Are you trying to piss me off? Show up dressed like a slut, whore yourself out right in front of me?”

You can only get yourself to let out a strangled squeak, all too distracted by the swell of Kai’s cock, the heat of his body against yours. Was this really happening?

“C’mon, say something.” Kai goads, rolling his hips. it takes everything in you not to moan. “Why are you being such a whore, Y/N?”

“You’re hard…” You whimper.

“I’m hard?” Kai echoes, sneers meanly. “Fuck yes I’m hard. I’m hard ‘cos you look so fucking sexy in this dress, I love your body; God, did you wear this for me?”

You’d been telling yourself you didn’t, but you did. You absolutely did. “Uh huh…”

“Dressed up all pretty for me yet you’re letting other men call you baby? Sounds like you just want me to punish you. Is that what you want? For me to punish you?” Kai’s hands let go of yours to grab at your hips, guiding you to buck up harder against him. “You know, I thought you couldn’t take it. Thought you wouldn’t be able to handle me. But now I think you deserve to be put in your place, don’t you?”

“Kai…” You croak weakly, keen high in your throat when Kai grinds hard right against your clothed slit, nestles his head in your neck to mouth hotly at your skin.

“Fuck you’re wet, I can feel it. Say it. say you want me to ruin you.”

He’s right; your pussy’s dripping. You’ve never felt this needy before in your life, and Kai hasn’t even touched you. You can’t help but be a little afraid for when he does.

Your mind flashes back to your dreams, vivid scenes of being underneath Huening as he tore you apart completely, made you feel raw and alive in ways you didn’t think you ever could. You craved to feel even just a fraction of what you did in your dreams, finally make them a reality.

You needed him.

“Ruin me, Kai, please.” you beg, and you meant it.

“Good girl, fuck.” Huening curses hot under his breath, pulls himself away from you— you whine out at the loss, and Huening gives your ass a surprise slap in retaliation. You bite your lip to keep from shrieking. “Fuck, okay, we’re doing this. 7’oclock Monday, okay? My place; Taehyun won’t be home. We’ll have time to talk it out before. Don’t be late.”

And with that, Kai once again stalks away, heads back inside the club with his hands in his pockets and head held high like he wasn’t just grinding against you moments before. You’re plastered against the wall, dress ridden up your ass, sweaty and hot and so wet it’s starting to drip down your thighs.

You’re not sure if you’re going to be able to make it to Monday.

“7 o'clock Monday, okay? Don’t be late.”

Monday came far too fast. Despite having the entire weekend to yourself you felt as though you had been given no time to prepare; you spent three days pacing your and Yeonjun’s apartment, unable to do anything except think about Hueningkai’s words, his voice, his hands hot and burning, branding on your skin… you were haunted, ruminating endlessly about what he was going to do to you, what his plans were once he had you all alone and to himself. How far he would push you. If he would take you all the way to the edge. If he would stop if you told him it was too much. If you truly trusted him as much as you thought you did. If all of this was really just some strange, one-off situationship between two good friends, or if there were feelings you weren’t ready to address hidden somewhere just under the surface.

Was this just sex?

Yeonjun kept asking you if you were okay, brow furrowed as he watched you worry yourself half to death, and you didn’t know how to respond.

The dreams you had been having had only gotten worse, more visceral. They frightened you, almost, from the intensity of them, but in the same vein you had never felt this needy in your entire life. You needed to feel Kai’s touch on you again like you needed air.

The falling snow nipped at your bare legs as you shuffled nervously in front of Hueningkai’s apartment door. You certainly hadn’t dressed for the weather– hidden behind your knee-length coat, you wore your tiniest skirt and your tightest top, low cut with your cleavage spilling out of your push-up bra. You wrapped your arms tighter around yourself, buried your burning face deeper into the lapels of your coat as the icy cold wind picked up in a dizzying, biting flurry– you’ve never dressed up for a hookup before, and you hoped it wasn’t obvious… would Hueningkai even notice? Could you even call this a hookup to begin with? The entire situation was so incredibly alien and unlike you in every way that it left a bad taste in your mouth, one you mulled over as you stared daggers at his door. You couldn’t bring yourself to knock on it.

Luckily, you didn’t have to. Taehyun tore the door open for you right as you gathered the courage to raise your fist.

You shrieked at your friend’s sudden appearance, grabbed desperately at your coat like it was a lifeline– Kai had told you that he wouldn’t be home, told you that the coast was completely clear for you to waltz in– that was the only reason you had agreed to come over anyway. You had to save yourself from the potential humiliation of facing Taehyun again after Friday, especially looking like this, yet there he stood, eyeing you up and down as he shrugged his jacket on.

“Wha– Why are you here!?” you demand, wrapping your coat tighter around yourself. Taehyun gives you an odd look.

“I live here.” He answers flatly. “I was just about to leave, actually. What are you doing here?”

You open your mouth to answer, but Taehyun cuts you off. His eyes trail from your glossy lips down to your bare legs, grimace on his face that would have offended you in some other circumstance. “Actually, don’t answer that. Kai’s in his bedroom. I’m going out, I don’t wanna be here for this– use a condom at least, will you?”

Without waiting for your reply, Taehyun quickly side steps your shivering frame to trudge off through the snow. He gives you a limp and unenthusiastic wave goodbye without bothering to look back– if he had, he would have seen you gape and splutter at his retreating back like a landlocked fish.

The door was left wide open for you to enter; all of the lights were off inside, dark and empty except for the cracks underneath Hueningkai’s door, all the way down the hallway– you felt taunted by it, frigid and terrified like something unexpected would jump up at you as you stepped inside and locked the door behind you. You’ve felt less dread walking through haunted houses.

Tentatively, you make your way down the hallway, the apartment unsettlingly quiet as you reach Kai’s bedroom door and fumble with the doorknob– it was unlocked, much to your surprise, and slowly you cracked it open and slipped inside.

Hueningkai’s room was dark except for the light of his console, illuminating your friend’s outline as he played some video game you didn’t recognize; he slouched in his gaming chair with his back turned to you, volume turned up so high in his headphones that you could hear the muffled gunshots all the way from the doorway– he clearly had no idea that you were standing right behind him, so engrossed in the game blown up on his screen.

“Kai?” you called out quietly, too nervous to raise your voice. Huening continued to click away at his mouse and keyboard, and you stared awkwardly at the back of his head.

You double-checked the time on your phone; you had shown up exactly when he had told you to. There’s no way he had forgotten about Friday… was there?

“Kai.” you called again, this time a little louder. Kai still did not acknowledge you in the slightest.

Frowning, you step over to his side, tap gingerly at his shoulder, and Kai reacts instantly— he jumps up out of his chair with a deafening shriek, sends his headphones flying as he whips his head around in terror to face you… it takes him a second to recognize your face, but his face floods with color once he does.

“Holy– Oh, (Y/N), Oh my God!” he whines, clutching his chest. Even his ears are red, you notice when he bends over to pick up his headphones up off of the floor, and you giggle to yourself as he turns back around to give you a startled, puppy-eyed look. “You scared the shit out of me!”

“I’m sorry,” you reply, trying your very hardest not to laugh in his face. You’ve never seen him this embarrassed before, avoiding your eyes with puffed-out cheeks and a pink face; it was a cute look on him. “I thought you knew I was coming.”

“Well..” he cringes, fiddling with the headphones still in his hands. His face looked even redder. “I… I kind of thought you weren’t going to.”

“Why wouldn’t I come? I told you I’d be here.” you ask, cock your head at him, watch as he turns his console off and places his headphones down on his desk. He seemed nervous and disoriented, like he really wasn’t prepared for any of what he had talked about salaciously into your ear Friday night; you felt silly, suddenly, dressed up and standing expectantly in his bedroom. Maybe you shouldn’t have taken him so seriously. This didn’t seem at all like the man who had you pinned against a brick wall and begging for it just a few nights ago, and instead much more like the shy and gentle Hueningkai you knew much, much better.

“I thought I scared you..” Kai admits with a fake, humorless laugh, his wobbly smile quickly folding down into a grimace as he sinks further into his chair. “This is usually the part where I scare people. They were only half-joking about the whole ‘running away screaming’ thing, you know.”

Your own frown deepens, unsure of what to do or what to say as you watch him pick at his sweatpants, continue to refuse to look you in the eye as he rocks himself back and forth with the swivel of his chair. “I mean, I’m not angry about it, obviously.” he continued, fluffy blond bangs hanging over his face as he stared at the floor. “That would be stupid. A lot of people don’t like this stuff, and that’s fine. I don’t want to force anyone to do anything they don’t want to do. You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. It’s okay if I scared you, it really is. I’m sorry I came on so strong Friday, it was a bad idea and I shouldn’t have done it and I was drunk–”

Kai looks up at you for the first time in a while, big brown eyes watery behind his bangs and breaking your heart– he looked so truly guilty, like he had been beating himself up over this for days. Like he had spent the entire weekend pacing and tearing himself to shreds just as you had. You wish he had said something sooner, so you could have told him earlier that he didn’t do anything that you didn’t like, that he startled you but in a way that awakened something in you that you didn’t even know that you had. You wish you had the courage to tell him that he could have done whatever he wanted that night and you would have let him, because while this new side to him made you nervous it didn’t scare you. Hueningkai could never scare you.

It hits you then that there really wasn’t another secret, darker alter to Hueningkai, some frightening Jekyll and Hyde dynamic that your friends had placed into your head. Kai was always Kai, your sweet, perfect, nervous, nerdy, awkward Kai, even when he was saying the nastiest things you had ever heard in your life, and you felt very terrible very suddenly that you had ever doubted your trust in him.

“You don’t scare me, Kai.” You say simply, because you couldn’t get yourself to say anything else. The genuinely shocked look on Kai’s face at your words makes your chest ache.

“Really?” He asks just above a whisper. “I didn’t scare you?”

“No, I… I liked it.” You admit, face heating up. “I liked it, and I want more.”

Kai’s big puppy eyes change in an instant; suddenly he was gazing up at you like a predator, big brown eyes slanted and dark, dripping with a hunger you were frighteningly unfamiliar with. The sudden shift takes you by surprise, ignites a delicious fire in your belly. “Okay then.” Kai says slowly, taking his time easing out of his chair. You don’t miss the big, dizzying bulge in his sweats when he stands up. “Then let’s talk.”

He sits you down on his bed and sits next to you, though a good distance away– you could feel every single inch as Kai nibbles at his lip and bites at his nails, shuffles his feet and looks up at you coyly. “Before we do anything, I just want to hear about your boundaries… is that okay? I don’t want anything to happen that you don’t like. The last thing I want to do is to make you uncomfortable or hurt you..”

You’re touched, oddly enough, though you’re already jittery and way in over your head– with a quizzical little giggle you ask, “What do you mean by boundaries?”

“Like your hard limits, your soft limits.” Kai explains gently, moving to rest his big hand on the mattress between you. You stare at his long, thick fingers a few beats longer than you meant to. “Things you don’t want me to do to you. Let me know about what to stay away from so this can be enjoyable for both of us.”

You were in no way prepared for this line of questioning; you squirm around in your big coat, cheeks heating up– you were starting to sound like the virgin. “I, um… I don’t really know… I’ve never really done anything like this before– but I want to try it. With you.”

Kai lets out a deep sigh, that hand on the bed raising to push his bangs back from his eyes– pretty brown pupils dark and dripping with honey, such a startling juxtaposition from the sweet soft smile on his plush lips. You stare at him, mesmerized. “Thank you for trusting me to be your first, then.” he says lowly and surprisingly sincere, pink tongue darting out to lick at his thick bottom lip. “If there’s ever a point where you feel unsafe or uncomfortable, don’t be afraid to tell me, okay? I promise I’ll stop immediately.”

“Okay…” you nod. Your anxiety was diminishing by the minute, being replaced with a tranquil sense of trust– you were certain that only Kai could ever make you feel this safe.

“For boundaries, just follow my lead.” Kai continues. “I’ll list something, and you tell me if you’re okay with it or not, okay?”

“Okay.” you say again, more confidently. Kai grins.

“Good girl. Just say yes or no, okay?”

Good girl, said so flippantly like he did at the bar. You shiver, electrified– you can still feel Kai’s hot breath panting in your ear when he called you that Friday night, that hard thick bulge in his pants you’ve been trying desperately not to look at pushing hard against your ass, teasing you maddingly…

“(Y/N)?” Kai asks softly, sending you reeling back to the present. “Is that okay?”

“Yes! I mean yes, yes that’s okay…”

Kai giggles, eyes scrunching up in that way you adore so much. “Alright then. Can I hit you?”

Oh.

You blink hard, hesitate for a moment. “Hit... me? … Where?”

“Wherever you’d like.” Kai answers with the sweetest and most innocent of smiles. Only his bright red cheeks are giving him away. “I can spank you, if you want. I can slap you. Your face, your tits. Your.. your pussy even, if you’d let me.”

Once again you’re pulled away from reality, flooded with memories all at once from your salacious dreams; being spanked for misbehaving, Huening’s big strong hands ruthless on your soft skin. How it hurt but how you loved it, craved and begged for more… “You can spank me.” You finally get out after a while. “You can spank my p-pussy too… just please be gentle. And I don’t want to be hit anywhere else.”

“That’s perfectly fine, angel. I’ll be gentle, I promise.” Kai soothes in a deep croon, mixing deliciously and dizzyingly with the new pet name and making you rub your thighs together– you can tell that he noticed from the wolfish way that his toothy grin widens. “Do you want me to just use my hand or can I use a toy to spank you?”

The simple idea of being spanked with something other than a hand is enough to make you squirm and hide your face; it was something you had never even thought about before, but now… “You can do both..” you mumble quietly, too embarrassed to meet Kai’s gaze. He gives you an approving hum.

“Can I choke you?”

“Yes.” you answer with little hesitation, taking another quick glance at Kai’s fingers, now pulling at the hem of his hoodie. Kai lets out a huffy ‘oh’ like he had been hit hard in the chest, lost his breath. You can feel the hunger in his stare as it washes over you, the way he undresses you with his eyes– it’s already overwhelming and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

“Can I tie you up?” Kai continues heavily, deep voice a few octaves lower. You bite your lip to keep from whimpering.

“Yes.”

“Can I pull your hair?” he moves his arm like he was placing his hand back on the bed, but instead firmly grabs your upper thigh– he pushes your coat aside with his thumb so he can caress at your bare skin, and the teasing touch is more than enough to make your voice shake.

“Y-yes.”

“Call you names? Be mean?” His fingers dig into the fat of your inner thigh.

“Yes, yes please..”

The bulge in Kai’s sweats was obscene, straining hard against the fabric as he stroked your thigh, used his free hand to tilt your chin up to meet his eyes; the way he looked at you was bordering on predatory, like he was going to eat you, so dirty and different than any look he had given you before… your pussy throbs when his thumb brushes softly across your bottom lip. “Oh princess…” Kai coos, sugary sweet, “What am I going to do with you?”

“What are you going to do with me?” you echo timidly, still meek even as you place your hand on his chest.

Kai’s grin turns practically evil, hand brushing higher and higher up your thigh. “I think you deserve a punishment for your behavior Friday, don’t you? Acting so bratty, dressed like a slut…”

The pad of his finger slips under your skirt to ghost over the soaked front of your panties. Your thighs clench hard, trapping his hand between them, and the hand you had placed on his chest grabs a fistfull of his hoodie. “Punish me,” you beg, meek and pathetic; Kai stares at you in what almost seems like disbelief.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks after taking a moment to study your face.

“Yes, please.” you answer, already leaning in to bridge the gap.

Kai kisses you so passionately it takes your breath away, his hands coming to cup your face and grab your hips as he pries your lips apart with his tongue, demanding his way inside. Your hands paw uselessly at his shoulders and neck, Kai swallowing your sweet little whimpers up greedily as he pulls you up onto his lap and tugs at your coat. He only pulls away when you’re both dizzy and begging for air. “God, I’ve wanted to do that for fucking ever…” Kai whispers against your lips, his deep giggle making your legs twitch and tighten around his trim waist– the confession hung heavy in the air, it weighs down your shoulders as you drop your arms to let him peel off your coat and throw it down onto the floor. Words get stuck in your throat as you scramble for something to say… Kai steals them from you with ease, big dark eyes marveling at every inch of your exposed skin, his hands cupping at your hips and breasts, ghosts feathered touches up the exposed skin between your itty bitty skirt and top

“Oh baby…” he huffs, honeyed voice labored and panting. “Fuck, look at you.”

“Do you like it?” you ask with a coy smile.

Hueningkai growls in response, flipping you over onto your back on the bed– he holds himself over you with his hands on either side of your head, pretty lips pulled into the most salacious of smirks as his eyes continue to rake down your body. “Kai…” you whimper, the few inches between your faces feeling like miles.

“No, no, don’t call me that, baby,” he coos, “Call me sir, okay?”

“Yes, sir…” you reply in kind, face hot. Kai gives you another quick kiss in appreciation before pulling himself back up and off of the bed. You whimper at the loss but Kai is quick to shush you, big hand coming up to rub soothing circles into your thigh as he rummages around underneath his bed– where he keeps his toys, you remember with a jolt.

“Turn over ‘n arch your back, can you do that for me? Ass up, gotta teach you a lesson.”

You shudder and follow his directions, bury your face into Hueningkai’s sheets as he gathers his things and settles himself back on the bed behind you; you can feel the bed dip from his weight, feel him place a few things down on the bed side the both of you before he runs his hands up your thighs and waist, across your shoulders and down your arms. In one swift motion he grabs your wrists and pulls your arms taut behind your back, binds them in place with the dull click of biting cold metal– he’s handcuffed you, you realize with a sick start. You’re completely at his mercy now.

“Are they too tight?” Kai asks when you test your restraints, tug at them uselessly; they don’t budge an inch, only cut tighter and tighter into the skin of your wrists with every movement. It’s an alien feeling, being bound like this, but you find yourself enjoying it much more than you thought you would, stoking the fire in your belly. You shake your head no.

“Good.” He says, big hands caressing your hips– he uses his thumbs to push your skirt up over your ass, revealing your cute lace panties. Thumb moving down to slide against your soaking wet slit, he coos, “Such a cute little ass, sweetie; can’t wait to see this cunt.”

You whimper and push back against his hand, making Kai chuckle and rub a quick circle at your clit before tugging your panties down to your knees in one swift motion. You gasp at the sudden shock, cold air hitting at your warm wet core.

Kai sighs like he’s relieved. “God, you’ve got the prettiest pussy, princess… I can’t wait to ruin it.” Without warning, he rears his hand back and slaps you, hard, against your panty-clad cunt. The sting is sharp and mind-numbing, making you cry out, but your voice quickly wavers into a low moan; it hurt like hell but you loved it, the tingling in your fevered skin only serving to make you wetter.

Kais hand then moves to cup and squeeze at your asscheek; you can feel your arousal coating his palm, your pussy so wet you’ve drenched it with just a single spank. “Count for me, okay honey?” Kai croons, gentle. “And say ‘thank you sir’ for every one.”

“Yes, sir…” you whimper, fighting the urge to look over your shoulder back at him as he shuffles around behind you, picking up whatever he had placed aside earlier. You hear a soft ‘good girl’ as he settles himself back into place.

Kai rewards your good behavior with your first proper spank, hard and fast and with a wooden paddle instead of his hand— you cry out, even louder and shriller than before, your hands twisting against the handcuffs as you shy away from Kai’s grasp. “One!” you huff out, winded, completely unprepared; Kai tuts, condescending.

“One, what? What did I say you call me? Be a big girl and use your words now.”

“One, thank you sir!” you correct yourself quickly, thighs already quivering.

He spanks you again on the other cheek, this time harder; you shriek at the sharp pain of the paddle, but it quickly morphs into a broken moan. The paddle elicited pain in a way you had never felt before, could hardly describe, the shocking sting reverberating through your entire body and coalescing in your mind, leaving you breathless and unable to focus on anything other than Kai’s big hand running soothingly down the small of your back, the leather of the paddle ghosting over your flushed skin teasingly. “Two, thank you sir!” you whimper.

To your disappointment, Kai only hums. This time he gives you not a second to prepare yourself before the paddle comes down again, catching the meat of your upper thigh. It hurts so bad it makes your eyes water, your mouth stuck open in a drooly, silent scream. Your cunt throbbed. “Tell me you’re a whore.” Kai demands, voice rough and low, sending shivers down your spine.

“I’m a whore.” you stutter out, wobbly voice barely above a whisper.

Two ear-ringing spanks land hard on your bruising ass, one after another on the exact same spot. Kai’s long fingers catching the very top of your inner thigh— you’re unable to control the shrill shriek that erupts from your parted, panting lips, watery with unshed tears. “Louder.” Kai spits, grabbing a tight fistful of your hair. “Let everyone hear what you are.”

“T-three, four! I’m a whore!” you cry out, your head spinning, your thoughts fragmented. You’ve been broken entirely, you fear, somewhere in the back of your mind. Broken and ruined and never the same again. The thought doesn’t scare you as much as you thought it would. “I’m a whore, sir, thank you!”

“Good girl,” Kai coos, a little condescending. He seemed to enjoy watching you break just as much as you enjoyed being broken. “Just one more, okay?”

He caresses your swollen asscheek with a surprising tenderness, thumb rubbing soothing circles across the burning flesh. Your cunt is so wet that rivulets of slick had begun to drip down your thighs, and by the harsh intake of breath you hear behind you you’re sure that Kai has noticed.

You brace for the spank, face buried in Kai’s sheets, but still your body shook with pain and pleasure as he lands it, vicious and aggressive, right over your throbbing cunt. The spank stung like nothing you had ever felt before, harder than the others before it, the pain reverberating through your core and making you hiccup pathetically— you’re floating, your fragmented and silenced thoughts somewhere far away, but the gentle hand on your hip grounds you back into Kai’s sheets, back into the moment as your body aches and yearns for more. “Five!” you finally manage to spit out, your cheeks wet with tears you weren’t aware you had shed. “Thank you, sir!”

Your punishment ends and it’s like a switch flips in Kai; his hands smooth over your hips and thighs, so so gentle in caressing the blistering globes of your ass.”Such a good girl girl, took your punishment so well…” He croons, pressing feather light kisses to your shoulder blades. “Knew you could do it, my perfect girl. So proud. Are you ready for more?”

“Please,” you pant, chest heaving. You hardly recognize your own voice.

Huening’s breath hitches at your answer, his hips stuttering as he presses them up against your ass. The fabric of his pants scratches deliciously against your pussy, the thick shaft of his cock rock hard and straining, slotted perfectly between your quivering folds— your skin tingles from the kiss he presses against the back of your neck, gentle and chaste. “Such a good girl deserves a reward, doesn’t she?” he purrs into your ear, his warm chest molded to your sweaty back. “What do you want, princess?”

“You.” you beg, sob. “You, please, sir.”

Your answer makes Kai growl roughly into your hair, buck his hips quick and desperate against your ass. His white-knuckle grip on your hips makes your head spin, only growing tighter. “Fuck. You want me? Want my cock? Whatever you want, baby, shit.”

The bed creaks when Kai gets off, his deep little chuckle reverberating through your body. Missing his touch, you roll over onto your back to watch him as he digs through his nightstand drawer, the raw skin of your ass stinging when they brush up against his sheets. Kai giggles triumphantly when he finds a condom, quick to tear the foil with his teeth, and the sweet, innocent noise is almost enough of a distraction from his long fingers pulling down his waistband. His cock slaps up against his belly obscenely when fully freed, flushed pink and twitching, flared mushroom tip leaking tantalizing pearls of precum— you bite your lip to hold in your gasp, cunt clenching around nothing at the sight.

“Why are you looking at me like that..?” Kai laughs, his blonde bangs shading his blushing cheeks as he sheepishly lowers his gaze to the ground. It would be like him, you think, to be embarrassed in a moment like this. He looks so sexy you could cry.

“I… I don’t think it’ll fit..” you admit in a whisper, thighs shaking.

“Oh baby,” Kai coos, sugary sweet, that hesitant nervousness melting into something darker, more alluring. You watch him roll the condom over his thick, leaking cock with bated breath and a throbbing core. “I’ll make it fit, don’t worry.

Kai moves too quickly for you to react, grabbing at your ankle and pulling you down the bed with shocking ease— with his other hand he tugs your panties the rest of the way off of your legs, frees your thighs so they can wrap around his trim waist as he brings your hips together in a delicious clash of skin. His cockhead slides up your slit and knocks hard against your swollen and soaking clit when he pries your legs apart over his shoulders, pushes your knees to your chest to spread you out fully for his view. He stares at your throbbing pussy in rapture, wide eyes with blown pupils making you squirm and fight the urge to hide behind your hands.

“God, you’re so wet,” Kai breaths, sliding two fingers between your folds, spreading around the mess of slick— soon he has them pistoning hard in and out of your hole, scissoring them apart and stretching your quivering gummy walls so perfect, rubbing up against all of your neglected sweet spots as you moan Huening’s name. Your pussy gushes with the lewdest wet sounds, nasty enough to make your ears burn. “Wettest cunt I’ve ever seen. Gotta stretch you so I can fit, yeah?”

“Don’t need it!” you gasp, tugging at the handcuffs still keeping your arms snug behind your back. You want more than anything to touch, to guide Kai to where you need him the most. You don’t know how much more teasing you can take. “I don’t need it, just need you… just fuck me!”

Kai pulls his fingers out, leaves your hole gaping and fluttering as he lines his cock up— his cockhead feels impossibly big pushing up against your entrance, so close it’s threatening to slip inside. “Come on, princess,” Kai teases, rolling his hips. “Good whores say please, don’t they?”

“Please!” you beg, desperate and whiny. You’ve never needed a cock this badly in your entire life. “Fuck me, sir, please!”

Kai lets out the prettiest broken moan, sheathing himself inside you in one smooth thrust. He gives you no time to adjust, immediately settling into a punishing rhythm pounding you into the mattress. You’re immediately overwhelmed in the best possible way, your staccato moans echoing off of the walls.

“B-big!” you hiccup, eyes rolling back from the onslaught of pleasure. His thick cock so deep you can feel him in your belly, so stretched out you fear that he would tear you in half, his fat cockhead knocking at your cervix with every thrust and sending wave after wave of euphoria. His intensity leaves you breathless, unable to think or hardly speak, each thrust surrendering you deeper into the throws of submission and desire. “Too big!”

“‘Too big?’” Kai mocks, his hips unrelenting. “Am I too big for your little cunt, baby? After you were begging for my cock like a little slut?”

You can’t reply, can’t do anything other than moan and cry as Kai splits you open. Kai seems to like that quite a bit.

“Being’ fucked so good you can’t speak? Fuck, that’s so hot. You’re so hot. Been wanting this forever, you have no idea—“ Kai’s rambling, pretty face flushed pink and his brown puppy eyes so dark and wild; he seemed completely lost in the feeling of you, so ruthless let unfocused as his hands tug at the hem of your shirt. You had forgotten you were even still wearing it. “You’re mine now, you hear? Pussy’s all mine. Never— fuck, never letting you go.”

He pulls your top up to bunch at your armpits, your plush tits spilling out to meet Kai’s hungry gaze. Your perky nipples harden from the cold air, flushed and begging to be touched; Kai can’t seem to help but stare in rapture as they bounce with each of his thrusts, his tongue falling out of his panting mouth like a hungry dog. “Pretty tits,” he pants, reaching up to gently slap one of your breasts— he groans at the jiggle, the way you whimper when his palm meets your sensitive flesh. “I’ve always— I’ve always loved your tits.”

He captures your pert bud between his lips, hot wet tongue marking the skin he had just slapped; he’s so rough with it, nibbling and sucking bruises, pinching and twisting the one not in his mouth between his thumb and forefinger— the sensations combined with Kai’s quickening hips, his unbelievable words drives you to the brink of ecstasy, your shrill cries deafening even in your own ears. “Kai—sir!” you beg tearfully, but you’re not sure what for. “Sir, please, please—!”

“Shut up.” Kai hisses, pulling away from your nipple with a wet pop. His hand moves from your overstimulated breast to encircle your throat, grip tight, fingers squeezing just enough to make your breath hitch and your vision fuzzy, ignite your senses— you gasp in shock, your hazy eyes blown wide, his grip adding a delicious edge to your arousal, his words churning hot in your belly… your pussy spasms around Kai’s cock, gummy walls sucking him in impossibly deeper as you finally let the pleasure overtake you.

“I’m gonna cum!” you bleat, your chest heaving, his fist still clasped so perfectly tight around your throat. “Kai, I’m gonna, I—“

“Shh, princess,” Kai laughs breathlessly, his voice cracking and his hips stuttering. His grip loosens, hand coming to rub electrifying circles against your clit. “Gonna cum all over this cock? Fuck— I’m gonna cum too, baby, feels so good! Gonna— wish I fucked you raw, wish I could fill you up… cum with me, okay? Come together with me—!”

You can’t take his words— hot fire in your belly roars, engulfing your entire being, and you’re sent over the edge in a symphony of pleasure. Kai follows close behind with a beautiful whiny moan, his cock twitching inside of you as he fills up the condom. Part of you wishes he had fucked you raw as well, could feel his hot seed paint your walls and fill your belly.

Maybe another time, you supposed.

As you catch your breath, chests rising and falling with the intensity of your shared orgasm, Kai tenderly caresses your waist, surprisingly hesitant and gentle in contrast to all of his touches before. His melted chocolate eyes meet yours, filled with passion and desire and something a little more. “That was…”

“Amazing.” you finish, a blissful smile gracing your lips.

“Can.. can we do that again?” Kai asks eagerly. “Not now, but like. Later. All of the time? We should do that all of the time. Can I take you out on a date sometime?”

taglist: @wintertxt, @boba-beom, @wolfytae-exe, @takemehye, @naomiarai , @mapofthemazeinthemirror , @bunnie-hq , @doumachi, @numxra, @soobinsbuns, @taegimood, @jeniihss, @soobabby, @hhoneylix , @beargyuuzz, @fullbodyblankets , @xenkimmie, @ttaesoob, @shinyngirl , @lxnoluvr, @blxxsss , @ode2soob , @beom-gyubears, @ashiixari, @lurking-coconut, @horanghaelovr, @urstylezx , @mini-mews , @givethnofucketh , @ladyartemesia, @allisonistrashh, @nxlvvr, @lurking-coconut

#ɱเµρσω𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ౨ৎ #k-labels #hueningkai x reader #txt x reader #txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #hueningkai smut #hueningkai hard hours #hueningkai hard thoughts #txt fanfic #txt imagines #txt scenarios #hueningkai imagines #hueningkai scenarios

872 notes · View notes

kingtomura · 2 months

Text

Arcade

Summary: There's nothing worse than getting ditched by your so-called friends on a Friday night. Well, maybe the asshole complaining about your skills at the arcade has that beat. Tomura Shigaraki knows how to make one hell of a first impression. word count: 8.5k Part three to Good Girl and Bloodline Content: Tomura Shigaraki x female reader, quirkless AU, fluff, angst, virginity loss, virginity kink, corruption kink, mutual masturbation, vaginal fingering, oral (f! receiving), praise, strict parents, toxic parents, smut with plot, protected sex, piv, overstim, tomura talks you through it, if you know what i mean, reader is kinda bad at games sry, mdni crossposted to ao3

You meet him on a Friday.

The mall is crowded and filled to the brim with groups of friends, chattering, laughing – wondering what to get into for the night. You’re just trying to find your group. They said that they would meet you here almost an hour ago, but no one has shown up.

Bitterly you kick the small rock in front of you, officially accepting the fact that you had been ditched and decide it’s too early to go home. It’s a Friday night for pete’s sake. You walk aimlessly through the mall, only pausing when the noises of video game lasers and hyper dance music flood your ears.

The arcade. Of course you could kill some time there, people go there alone all the time. No one would think you were out of place and effectively ditched.

You make your choice, beelining for the upgraded rendition of Pac Man and slipping in a coin to start it.

The excitement was short lived as you remembered that the game isn’t as easy as you remembered. Whatever, you take your leave and try for a game you hadn’t played before. Something simple with muted colors. It’s fun, but a little difficult. You find yourself getting lost in it, the sounds drowning out the bustling of the arcade.

You huff as you lose another round and reach down, ready to drop a coin and start up again when you hear an annoyed groan coming from behind.

“Can I help you?” You ask, giving the guy a once over. He wore all black with ashen hair and ruby red eyes that shone with annoyance.

“Yeah, you could find another game to suck at.” He scoffs, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Irritating.

You take the challenge. “Oh yeah? Well let's see you try it then, since it’s so easy.”

He shrugs, brushing by you and inserting his own coin into the machine, the beeps of the game starting up and filling tension between you.

This guy… was good at the game — as much as you hated to admit it. He blew through the enemies with little to no trouble and easily passed your place in the game. Ending it all with one final blow to the boss and snagging the new high score right before your eyes.

To say you were embarrassed was a little less than an understatement, but you wouldn’t let him know that. So, you double down, brows furrowed and standing proud.

The mystery man turns back to you, carmine eyes gleaming in triumph over his easy win. “See? You suck.”

You bristle at his blunt insult and bite back. “Yeah, well I only tried this game today! You think you're so good, why don’t you try to beat me at a game I'm good at.”

He looks you over, eyes dragging from your head to the converse on your feet, before turning back around towards the game and dropping another coin into it.

“No thanks.”

This asshole… you don’t know why you're fighting this battle, you don't even know this man! But it would be a lie if you didn’t think it was entertaining —- in an annoying way, of course.

But you take your loss and give up, moving on to the next game. It is something silly and bright, but also difficult. It's easy to get lost in and you find yourself aggressively tapping the buttons, inevitably losing the game and huffing off to find the next one.

You choose a first person shooter this time. Originally a two player game, but you play on your own — taking down zombie after zombie as you try (and fail) to progress to the next stage.

You groan as the game over screen mocks you for what feels like the thousandth time that night and fight to keep from banging your head against the screen in frustration.

“You’re doing it wrong,” a low voice speaks from behind you and you can already feel your anger flaring. “It’s all in the aim.”

“Yeah, well, what do you know?” You ask bitterly, watching as the same asshole from before puts a coin in and starts the game up again.

He makes it look so easy, getting headshot after headshot as he easily advances to the next rounds. There was a moment you swore he would lose as a mob of zombies crowded him, but he hit a flammable container in the background, causing an explosion and killing all of the zombies.

The winning screen lit up his pale cheeks in a red hue, giving him a faux flush of color making the butterflies in your stomach go wild.

You can’t bite back your sigh of defeat this time, the losing streak getting to you. “Did you come over here just to show off? I can do without that, thank you.”

He only shakes his head, putting in another coin and starting the game up again. You stare blankly as he hits the two player button and hands you a gun.

“No, let me show you why you’re not winning.” It's spoken like you asked him for advice and you know damn well you didn’t, but you take the gun anyway because you had no reason not to.

Muttering a taut fine and gearing yourself up for more humiliation, you stand tall and hold the plastic gun up to the screen, ready to shoot incoming enemies.

You jolt when you feel the guy come up behind you, placing his hands over yours and moving them so that you have a better grip on the weapon.

It was so quick and so natural your cheeks began heating for a reason completely different from your earlier embarrassment.

He was so warm, his hands were warm and calloused and you could feel the heat of his body radiating onto your back as he invaded your personal space to show you how to hold the plastic gun.

Your heart hammered against your chest but you forced yourself to keep your eyes forward and face neutral.

It was much easier said than done, you realize as he leans in, his soft hair tickling your ear as he spoke, guiding you through the mini tutorial of how to shoot the zombies.

Everything he said went in one ear and out the other as you could only focus on the low vibrato of his voice, explaining as his fingers ghosted over yours, casually helping you shoot.

The smell of fresh linen and what you could assume was citrus shampoo flooding your nose, making you dizzy as you struggled to listen. You wanted nothing more than to lean back into this stranger, fully feel the warmth of his chest against your back and run your fingers through his soft locks. But you didn’t.

You will yourself to focus on the sounds of the game and his technique, knowing that you will probably be playing the game soon and didn’t want to look silly if your skill remained the same.

Unfortunately, he pulled away sooner rather than later, taking all of his extra warmth and citrus scent with him.

“Do you get it now?” He asks, rasp in his voice having genuine curiosity and you nod, ready to try your luck at the game now.

It seems like his tutoring wasn’t in vain and you both pull out a win, scoring high enough to place your names on the screen.

You can’t hide your excitement from your first win of the night, turning to your new companion as he looked over the other high scores on the board.

“So, what’s your name?” You ask, riding the high of the win and letting the confidence of it guide you. “Because I don't think it would be DustKing like your high score says.”

He gives a small laugh, something tiny and barely there – a mere blow of air through his nose — and looks at you. Those carmine eyes send heat rushing to your cheeks again and spreading to the tips of your ears.

“Tomura.” Is all he gives and you nod, giving him your name and turning back to the arcade game again.

“Wanna give it another try?” You offer, and he gives you a small smile back, dropping a coin into the machine and starting up another round.

“Sure.”

And suddenly, being ditched on a Friday night by your so-called friends isn’t so bad.

—---------------------

The next time you meet Tomura, it is on a saturday afternoon.

The arcade is already bustling with people and the noise almost makes you turn on your heels and walk away. But you don't, instead white hair and dark clothes catch your eye and your feet move before your mind can catch up with the actions.

“Hey!” You greet, a little too chipper and a little too close.

Tomura looks down at you, eyes dropping to your shirt and then back up again. You weren't sure if he had been checking you out or trying to size you up. It makes you falter a bit as he goes back to his game, effectively ignoring you.

The behavior is odd, but you try not to let it bother you. The last time you met the both of you played the silly zombie game until the arcade closed — there was no way he didn’t remember who you were.

You feel a little out of place and the tiniest bit hurt as you take a step back, ready to find any other distraction in the arcade to erase this from your brain.

“Um, okay, bye then—” You start, but you’re cut off by Tomura’s groan. He lost the game and it's difficult to hold back the laughter.

“God, you’re such a distraction. You made me lose!” He barks, riling you up.

Your brows furrow in frustration, you’ve barely said two words to the guy. “How did I make you lose? I just got here!”

“Yeah, and you're being all distracting, with your little shirt and your jeans. What do you want?”

What the hell was that supposed to mean? The statement is lost on you as your anger takes the forefront. “Don’t blame me because you’re off your game today.”

“I will blame you, because it’s your fault.”

“Whatever, Tomura. Since you’re done losing at this game, why don't you try one you;ll need real skill to play?” you challenge and hope he takes the bait, the irritated narrowing of his eyes shows that he will and you bury your giddiness inside.

“Fine, I'll try it.”

Tomura loses. Bad. And you can't stop the tears from crowding your eyes as you laugh at his misfortune.

“No, why did you rush out so fast?” You hear Tomura’s low growl of annoyance and continue, “This is not that kind of game! Slow and steady wins the race, you know.”

Wiping the tear from your eye, you try again, dropping a coin and gearing up for the next round while Tomura sits beside you, seething. The game starts up again and it's bright and inviting. You strategically tap at the buttons, ensuring that your duck character can make it across the street safely.

It's only when you hear the splash of the fallen duck next to yours that you break out into laughter once more, accidently tapping the button and sending your duck into the open road, ending the game for you both.

“This game is rigged!” Tomura protests, frustration palpable and scowl deep on his face.

You only shrug, knowing it's not an easy game, “Well, I'm sure you’d say that about any game you aren't good at.”

“That's a lie.” He states. Blunt and firm. This guy… He’s so rude, but so cute. You want to bite him.

“It's not,” You keep your voice light as you tease, not wanting to push him too far. “You don’t have patience so of course you would lose.”

“I could beat you at other games.”

This piques your interest, brows flying up. “Oh, yeah? Like what?”

He shrugs, irritation all but dissipated. “Mario Kart. 200cc. It takes patience and it’s not rigged.”

You take the bait, fingers twitching in anticipation, “Sure, but look where we are. There is no Mario Kart here.”

The look tomura gives you makes you wonder if you’d asked if the sky were blue. “I have Mario Kart at my house. Stop by and I'll kick your ass at it.”

You are stubborn, and decide fine. If he wants to be cocky, then you could bring him down a notch. “Alright, let's go and we'll see.”

He nods and you both take off, leaving the noise and excitement of the arcade behind.

Tomura was not lying when he said Mario Kart required patience.

You were currently in his room, on his bed as you try and fail to correct your character's position on the race track. You were stuck against a wall and slowly turning the opposite way, meanwhile, the other karts whip past your character — mocking while you firmly sat in dead last.

The small laugh Tomura gives is enough to send you into a rage. Standing up, you grip the controller with force, twisting and turning with it as if it would give you more control over your character. It did not.

“Oh, come on!” You shout.

“You have to use your brakes at this speed.” Tomura supplies, his character crossing the finish line and cheering at its win.

Your frustration is blinding because once again, those large, warm hands were covering yours, Tomura’s low voice filled with amusement as he guided your character to the finish line.

Embarrassment wasn’t enough for what you were feeling. Not only did you talk shit and lose, but you needed help from him again.

He pulls away and you fleetingly think it’s too soon, watching as Tomura grabs his own controller and flips through the options. “We could try a slower cc. 200cc is brutal to newer players.”

“You knew that and you still let me play it?” He clearly set you up, you bitterly realize as you sit next to him on the bed, watching the screen.

“Yeah, for all I know you could have been a prodigy. You weren't though, so it’s nothing I have to worry about.”

“Hey!” You scold, smacking his arm and grabbing the controller. “Fine. Let's do 50cc and see how good you are.”

Tomura shrugs, plucking the item from your hand and getting more comfortable. “Sure, but don’t think slower races will mean you’re better.”

The next race goes about the same as the first one, but at least this time your character sticks to the road and you’ve even placed higher this time. Eighth place! Take that.

“Impressive,” Tomura drags, voice stripped of malice and insults. It was a small feat, but still better than twelfth place.

It's hard to keep your excitement down, a stark contrast to Tomura’s reserved demeanor. You’ve only met him recently but he's already perfected the way to get your feathers ruffled and rile you up.

“Yeah, well I'm going to buy the game and practice on my own. Just wait, you’ll be in last place soon.” You had the gaming console, but never this game. It wouldn’t be too steep of an investment.

Tomura hums, pondering a moment before responding, “You could always just come over and practice. No need to waste the money when I have it.”

His words make you pause, slowly realizing where you are and who you're with. Some guy you met at the arcade — in his home, in his room, playing video games. How did that happen so fast? Your parents would kill you.

“I guess.” You look around, suddenly wanting to find anything else to focus on that isn’t the man beside you. Now that you think about it, you’ve never really been alone with another guy before. Especially not in his room. Sure, you had all kinds of male friends, but never any this close. It made you… nervous. And warm.

Very warm. Something that spread from the pits of your abdomen and crawled its way back up into your cheeks.

You hoped Tomura wouldn't notice your blush and searched your brain for any way to get out of this situation.

But then he was speaking again and god, was his voice always this low?

“Do you want to go another round?”

“Huh?” You stammer, looking over and it was a mistake because you were forced to notice how close you two were sitting, on his bed of all places. You shake the thoughts from your head, “y-yeah, we should play another round.”

You reach for the controller and Tomura stops you, grabbing your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes.

“Hey, what's your problem?” Blunt. Rude. Fucking cute.

It's settled. You hate this man.

His brows furrowed as he moved closer, examining your face as if he could peer into your mind with his eyes alone. It made you want to shrink away, but that would only make his observation worse.

“Are you... getting nervous?” Your eyes widen at the words and you pull away completely, shaking your head,

“No! Of course not.” You cross your arms in a huff and absently wonder if you could take your leave now.

“You are,” he decides, a slow grin creeping across his face, “Why?”

You're sure the ground will open up and swallow you whole if you just wish hard enough for it. Maybe then Tomura would back up out of your personal space and shut up.

“I'm not nervous.” You bluff, praying he won’t see through you.

“I know why.”

You brace yourself for mortification.

“It’s because you know you’re going to lose.”

He has that smug smile on his face and it hits you.

He has no idea. Tomura doesn’t get it — he thinks you’re upset about the game and not the fact that you can smell the citrus of his shampoo and see the flecks of black in his red eyes.

God, maybe he’s an idiot.

You want to kiss him.

“Don’t be nervous,” he assures, giving you a little smile and grabbing the controller again, “I’ll walk you through it.”

There was something about Tomura’s choice of words that made you think maybe, just maybe, he had a little more of an idea about your mood than he let on. You press your thighs together, praying it was subtle, and mentally push away the arousal you began to feel at his low tone of voice.

“Sure.”

The next round you both play goes the same as the others. Tomura winning and you barely breaking the top ten. Your frustration was becoming palpable as it no longer was fun to see your character cry at the end of the match.

“We don't have to play anymore.” You look over at Tomura’s words and he’s stretching, eyes closing at the movement. You can't help but notice the sliver of his exposed abdomen as he reaches up.

You get a glimpse of his lithe figure and feel your mind begin to wonder what the rest looks like, but cut your thoughts short as he adjusts and meets your eyes again.

You should get out of here before you embarrass yourself.

“Where are you going?” Tomura questioned, the minute you stood to leave.

“Um, home? It’s getting late.”

“Not that late. C’mon, it’s a Saturday. You have somewhere to be or something?” He’s getting up and you can only assume it's to get another game. You are correct because he turns to show you the case and it’s of a white goose. “This game is more fun.”

You look at the time on your phone and shrug. He's right, it's not that late — there should be no harm in staying a little longer.

So you do.

And it’s worth it as you both watch two geese in the game with excellent teamwork terrorize a farmer.

“Okay, you distract him and I’ll take his hat.” You were on a mission and Tomura indulged you, making his goose honk while yours swooped in, effectively stealing the hat and allowing you both to progress to the next level.

“Hah! I knew that would work.” You feel elated as you watch the geese move on, waddling across the screen and into the next area, “And you’re not so bad yourself, for a goose.”

Tomura huffs a laugh, shallow and light before turning to you, “I carried you that round, but okay.”

You haven't known each other long, but he already knows his way around getting you riled up.

The comment makes you turn so that you are better positioned on his bed, one leg still hanging off the end of it while trying not to puff your cheeks. You would be fighting a losing battle if he saw how riled up you were.

“Hey, I’m the one who told you where the picnic blanket was!”

“Okay? And who brought everything to the blanket?” he leaned forward, invading your space and challenging.

You didn’t back down, both of you so close, almost nose to nose. “You. but only after I found everything.”

The distance between the two of you was slim, and the air was heated, his crimson eyes looked down at you with that smug smirk on his lips and you wanted to bite him.

Or kiss him.

Whichever came first.

Tomura followed your line of sight and it only made his smug expression worse, if that were even possible — yet neither of you backed away. His lips parted like he was on the edge of saying something, but was cut off by the peppy chime of your phone’s ringtone.

That seemed to dissipate some of the tension between you two as it caused you to back away and scramble to find your phone on his bed.

Once you’ve gotten it and answered, there’s the familiar voice of your mother on the other end, worrying about where you are and questioning when you would be home, standard practice for her. After many reassuring yeses and “i’ll be there soon”’s you are finally free of the call, now knowing that you have to wrap this up and head out.

“Who was that?” Tomura questioned and his voice seems loud in the quiet of the room.

You turn back to him and his eyes are waiting, expecting. He’s not doing anything but looking at you and it still feels like he can see all of you, as if you’re naked and bare, exposed completely.

“My mom.” You can’t help the small shrug of your shoulders, feeling a little embarrassed at how uncool it could look to have your parents keep tabs on you all the time.

“Aww,” Tomura coos, and it's said more like an afterthought, something to fill the air as he leaned forward — finally, finally closing the distance between you both and kissing your lips.

It shocks you as you feel the soft cotton his duvet hit your back, Tomura’s lips still pressed to yours as he pushed you down. They were rough but so warm, just like the rest of him, and your hand seeks his hair, finally indulging in the urge you’ve had to touch it since you’ve met him.

He groans when you give it a tug and you whimper when he bites your lip a little too hard. It drives you crazy and Tomura wastes no time in deepening the kiss, his tongue swiping over yours as his hands slide up your shirt. You let out a gasp when he cups your breast, taking a sensitive nub between his forefinger and thumb. The feeling has you mewling into his mouth and arousal soaking your panties.

It doesn’t take much to get you riled up, especially since the furthest you’ve ever gone with a guy is a kiss here and there.

Tomura crowds your senses as he hovers over you, caging you below him as he sits between your spread legs. Your heart races as you keep your eyes squeezed shut, you don’t know how far you’re going to go, but you definitely did not think you would be losing your virginity today.

He pulls away, lifting his shirt up and over his head, tossing it somewhere on the floor of the room. You waste no time taking in the new sight of his exposed chest, desperate to reach your hands out to touch.

But Tomura was back down again before you had a chance to, his mouth making its way down your jaw and neck leaving kisses and licks in its wake. It’s sensitive, especially when Tomura sucks right on a particular spot on your neck, making you cry out.

“D-don’t leave a mark.” You stutter, words nearly lost to the pleasure.

“Why not?” The warmth of his tongue licking the area he’d just sucked on was making you shiver.

Your hands were gripping his shoulder, desperate for any kind of grounding. “Because my parents. They would k-kill me.”

Tomura hums, seeming to take your concern into consideration before pulling away. You’re worried you’ve blown it and ruined the mood, but he just tugs at your shirt.

“Get this off.”

You can feel the heat on your face, from the kissing, but now you feel it burn more as you gaze at the man above you. The words make you stall, process what's going on — what you should do.

No one’s seen you without a shirt, especially not in this situation, but honestly? Who cares. You’re an adult, you can and will make your own choices.

There’s no one else in this room but you and Tomura, so when you sit up to remove your shirt and bra, catching Tomura’s eyes scan your newly exposed body, you can’t help but smile at the chill of excitement that dances down your spine.

It makes your heart flutter so you pull him back into a kiss and back down onto the bed, fisting your hands in his ashen locks again and savoring the groans he made.

Tomura makes his way down again, taking your right breast into his mouth and tweaking the nipple of your other with his free hand. The sensations are overwhelming and you moan, arching your back and trying with all you had to pull Tomura closer.

He obliged by lowering his hips and grinding down against you, the press of his erection against your clothed cunt drives you wild. Tomura comes back up, claiming your mouth again and he is demanding as he deepens the kiss, giving you everything you wanted and more.

You wanted to take it further, needed to take it further, but you weren’t sure how to progress from making out. Telling Tomura you were a virgin would probably make things awkward and you were going to lose it if everything ended here.

Tomura pulls away to look at you, flushed and red while you ponder what to do with your hand placement. You decide to wrap them around Tomura’s neck, pulling him close enough that he rests his forehead on yours.

Your breaths intertwine as you both stare at each other in a daze.

“What?” He asks first, breathless and curious.

You cut your eyes to the side, hoping your scoff came off as unconcerned instead of wildly nervous, “Nothing! Nothing..”

Your tone is not lost on Tomura as he narrows his eyes, gears turning in his head and piercing gaze seemingly looking through you and into your deepest thoughts. “Why are you being shy like a virgin?”

The way you purse your lips gives you away and you do everything to avoid his gaze, which is hard when you’re both so close to each other.

“Oh my god, you are.” There’s a whimsy excitement in his voice and suddenly, embarrassment is creeping its way back into your mind, “why didn’t you say so?”

You look up as Tomura pulls back, his smile open wide on his face, ill hidden elation buzzing in his words.

There’s your innate need to defend yourself and your honor rising up again and you can’t stop yourself. So what if you’re a blushing virgin. “Yeah, so? Aren’t you?”

His shoulders give a small shrug, “Maybe.”

Then he’s down again, lips next to your ear as his hands trailed down your waist, leaning goosebumps in their wake.

“Have you ever made yourself cum before?” He asks and you can feel his smile against your ear.

Embarrassment has officially taken the forefront of your mind as you weakly shake your head no, “I’ve tried, but when I get close the feeling goes away.” Might as well be honest since it can’t get more vulnerable than this.

Tomura hums, one hand reaching to take your hand in his, “I could show you how, if you want.”

You feel his hand drag yours lower, down your body and to the hem of your pants and stop, waiting for a response. It feels like your nerves are in overdrive and you writhe below him in anticipation, nodding your head, “P-please.”

Tomura pulls away, taking his warmth with him as he reaches down to unbutton your pants, removing them and leaving your panties.

“You’re soaked.” He muses, causing you to whine in anticipation. “Show me how you do it.”

And you do, slipping your hand under your panties and biting back a moan as your middle finger rubbed circles on your clit. You were dripping wet so your fingers glide easily and the feeling makes your eyes close.

It's a song and dance you are familiar with in the heated nights of your bedroom. Trying and failing to make yourself cum because you’ve read about it, it’s supposed to feel good, but you just can't get there.

Tomura watches on, absently palming his erection and watching you touch yourself. As much as he wanted to reach down and help you out, there was something about seeing you whine and writhe in his bed that made his brain wild.

You were getting close and you knew because there was that familiar sensation of heat pooling in your lower belly, it was a pressure that got more and more intense as you chased after it, but every time, your hands would get tired and you would lose it. And with the momentum gone, you lose the orgasm.

Your furrowed brows went from aroused to frustrated within the span of a second as, once again you’ve unintentionally denied yourself release.

“Fuck,” Tomura breaths, hand now fully in his sweat pants as his breathing picks up, “you were close.”

“I know!” You whine, unsure what to do now, but Tomura has a few things in mind. He pulls his hand from his pants, not wanting to ruin his own orgasm and hooks his fingers on both sides of your panties, pulling them down and tossing them to the side.

You were fully exposed and the only thing keeping you from pressing your thighs together and holding your dignity close was Tomura between them.

You wish he wouldn’t look so much, but he does, drinking up the sight of your exposed cunt and licking his lips. You’re about to call him out of it before he dips back down, capturing your lips in his and it distracts you.

It distracts you so well that the press of his thumb over your slick nub makes you cry out, the pleasure sudden and better than you imagined. Tomura devours your moans, rubbing slow circles onto your clit and easily picking up where you left off. Your hands find purchase on his back and your toes curl at the sensation.

He had just started, but it was just right and you couldn’t stop yourself from arching your back, desperate for more and overwhelmed by the stimulation.

“T-tomu..” You moan as you feel the horizon of warmth again and bury your face into his neck.

“Yeah,” his lips are by your ear again and you close your eyes, fully focusing on the feeling of his thumb working your clit and his low voice in your ear, “Just let go for me.”

And it all hits you, pussy pulsing in pleasure as you come undone, your cries muffled by your face in his shoulder. It feels like the end of a long marathon as the bliss spreads through your body like a warm blanket.

You could only lie there as Tomura pulled away, kissing your sternum and all the way down until he was at eye level with your cunt. The action confuses you because he had just made you cum so why was he..?

“What are you doing?” You ask, confusion muting the buzz in your head.

His eyes meet yours, mischievous glint in them sending the butterflies in your stomach wild. “We’re not done yet.”

And before you could question the man further he dips down, warm and wet tongue meeting your slit and diving into your slick entrance. The action makes you jolt, keening at the sensation and thighs reflexively closing against Tomura’s head. This action only spurred him on further as he lapped and dipped his deceptively long tongue in and out of your wet entrance, sticky slick walls clamping down on him as he sloppily ate you out.

He was relentless as he drove your pleasure up the wall — blowing your previous orgasm out of the water with this new sensation.

“Fuck, tomu — fuck its..!” You can’t form a coherent sentence because the pleasure was only building and building, giving your brain no time to catch up with your words. Your hands immediately found purchase in his hair, the soft ashen locks grounding you as he continued his actions, unbothered by your tight grip.

Tomura decided to move up, licking his way from your hole to your clit, the overstimulated bud was next on tomura’s list as he lapped and kissed your bundle of nerves.

The actions make you cry out, mind muddled as your body tries to figure out if you want to be closer or further away from the sensations. You don't have much time to reach a conclusion either as Tomura sucks your clit and your second orgasm of the night quickly builds up and spills over, making your back arch from the bed and your legs shake in pleasure.

It feels like your mind is completely blank as tomura gives your cunt a final lap and your clit one last kiss before returning to meet your eyes again.

You were face to face now and watching him grin down at you, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had made a deal with the devil himself as your mind swam in the pleasure radiating throughout your body. It all felt surreal, and your eyes naturally closed, enjoying the feeling of your second climax.

“Aw, don’t tap out on me now, I haven’t even given you the final boss yet,” you hear Tomura coo, finally moving to remove his sweatpants and boxers and oh—

You watch his cock bob between his legs and panic internally as you wonder how the hell that would fit inside of you.

It’s like Tomura could read your mind, because his laugh brings you back to the present, “don't worry about it, promise it’ll fit.”

You don't know if you should trust him on that, but you do — mentally preparing yourself as Tomura leans over you and into the drawer of his bedside nightstand. He pulls out a square foiled packet and it’s in that moment you realize – no, he was not a virgin and only humoring you.

You don't have much time to dwell on it though because in no time he has the condom on and is lining himself up with your entrance.

The nerves are making themselves known as the reality of your situation starts to set in. The thoughts don’t flood your mind for long because Tomura takes your chin in his hand, demanding your undivided attention as he slowly pressed into your cunt.

The pressure of the stretch makes you whimper and your eyes reflexively close, but he was only getting started. It was the somewhat soothing feeling of Tomura’s thumb stroking your cheek that kept you grounded and able to withstand more of the stretch.

Little by little, Tomura pushed on, guiding you with his words and reassuring you that it wouldn’t hurt for long. He was right up against your ear, the familiar smell of his shampoo bringing you comfort as your bodies intertwined.

“That it,” he guided, voice low and hips still as he bottomed out. You felt so full. It was a sensation you’ve never imagined and could only whine as tomura started to pull back. “I’m gonna move now.”

Even though the pain was there in the initial thrusts, there was also the feeling of dull pleasure, slowly growing and growing until the previous pain had all but gone away and now you were floating in ecstasy as Tomura’s thrusts began to speed up.

You gripped at his forearms as he gained momentum, hips rocking into yours and making you moan.

“You like that?” he husked, lips brushing your throat as his hips snapped forward and hit a particularly sensitive spot inside.

“F-fuck, again, do that again,” you cry and Tomura focuses his attention right where you want him to. The feeling is euphoric as you feel a different kind of coil tightening in your lower abdomen. A feeling that makes your toes curl and your thighs tense and it's hit again and again.

Tomura lets out a low groan, his own pace becoming unsteady as time went on. “You’re so tight..” he murmured, reveling in the feeling of your slick walls clamping down on him, “‘s like you’re sucking me in.”

You’re nearing the end again, you can feel it, but you don't want to be. This all felt so good. “Tomu, I-I’m—”

Tomura cuts you off, pulling away to look you in the eyes, his ruby red gaze was hypnotizing. “Just let go, I’ve got you.”

And you do, that’s all it takes for you to tip over — mind rushing in bliss as your heart fluttered at his words.

You felt this orgasm deep in your bones, the overwhelming feeling of clarity and contentment settling within you as you were now along for the ride, enjoying Tomura’s increasing erratic pace while he chased his own orgasm.

“Oh, fuck—” he pants, following behind you with his own climax. His eyes were squeezed shut as he rode it out, slowing to a stop and dropping his head onto your shoulder.

The heavy breaths between you were the only sounds in the room as you stare at his ceiling — noticing the faded out green stars above. So faint you were sure they had been placed there years and years ago. It brings a warmth to your chest, something new among your many new feelings you’ve felt today.

“Next weekend,” Tomura starts, still sounding a bit winded as he pulls out — and you wince at the soreness, the pain not really something you were prepared for — and lays next to you, “Next weekend we’ll rematch in Mario kart. I’ll help you get better.”

You smile, the buzzing excitement making you flush, “Okay, let’s do it.”

The next morning is one that leaves you with a forming pit in your belly. It is a Sunday morning, and Sundays are the day’s your family loves to enjoy a homemade breakfast and sit together at the table like a loving family.

And they were loving! Loving and observant.

You felt as if your parents knew. Like they knew where you had been yesterday — somehow seeing through your foolproof lie of hanging out with an old school friend, but things were quiet.

Everything on this Sunday morning had been proceeding as normal. Your parents were sitting across from you, none the wiser and laughing about a show they watched last night while you were out.

It did not feel real. It felt like there was something you were missing, as if they were omnipotent and knew your every move. Knew that you were no longer their shining star child, that you had been up to things that were everything but innocent.

You feel the same, physically. Maybe a little sore from how rough Tomura had gotten, but other than that, normal.

“Sweetheart,” your father’s voice calls you, cutting through your paranoia, “could you pass me the syrup, please.”

And you do, maybe with too much haste, but he does not comment on it. Instead he just pours the sugary liquid onto his pancakes and continues. “So your mother and I were thinking,”

Oh, god. They knew.

“We know you’re taking a semester off, but if you aren't happy with that college, we could look into other’s for you.”

Your shoulders relax. It’s just college talk, again. That was talk you could handle.

“Um, yeah. That’s okay with me. I could always use more options.”

Your father smiles, “That’s our girl. Always so flexible with her options. We know it takes a lot of strength to take a break, but you did. We’re so proud of you.”

The smile that graces your face is pitiful and filled with guilt that you prayed was not obvious. They really saw the best in you, no matter how suffocating they were. so it’s only right you follow the path that they lay out for you.

“Our girl could never do any wrong,” your mother chimes in, chipper and full of admiration, “you’re just so smart.”

You only nod, now trying to tune them out as they go back and forth, discussing possible college they believed would be best for you.

It really makes you wonder just how far that love and pride stretched when their angel of a daughter strays against what they expect of you.

—-------------------------

And not even six months later that same love and adoration is tested, put on the line and shown bare as your enraged parents look down at you.

The same parents who doted on you about how much you made them smile. You who had made them so proud and apparently brought them so much joy.

It’s suffocating as you sit right back on the very same couch where it all started, listening to a lecture from your mother about the woes and pains of having such a disobedient unruly child.

Even though you’re an adult.

Even though you can make your own decisions about your life.

It’s maddening having to listen to your once so meek and complacent mother go on and on about how she would have never snuck around with some boy she’s only known for a few months. How she would never lie to her parents about her whereabouts and how it’s just unheard of that you would turn your location off.

You shake your head, they wouldn’t understand. Your father wouldn’t even look at you. “Mom, please..” you start, wanting to offer anything to break up the nonstop lecture.

“I just don’t understand!” Her voice is so high it’s nearly a yell, and your mother makes it a point to never yell. “He’s just a man! Why would you put yourself and your future at risk for some guy?”

“He’s not just some guy.” You mumble and curse yourself for trying, they would never see it your way.

There is a buzz from the phone in your pocket and you habitually grab for it, pulling it from its place and you are not given a chance to check the notification before your mother snatches the device from your hand.

“And no phone! This damn phone is the root of all your problems in the first place.”

Disbelief mars your features as the constant drilling catches up with you. “You can’t do that!”

She only folds her arms across her chest, head tilted in challenge, “I can’t? Watch me. You’re lucky we haven’t put you on the street yet with how irresponsible you’ve been.”

It’s hard to understand what’s so irresponsible about taking birth control and practicing being safe. But you knew it was deeper than that. It was deeper than the boy and it was more than sex.

They hated the lack of control they had over you and how it waned with every passing day.

“So, what, was this guy supposed to be the love of your life? Someone you would just run away with and expect to support you?”

Your mother’s voice grates on your ears and you just wish for this conversation to be over, you want this entire thing to be over and done with. “I don’t know. Maybe.” The defeat is evident in your voice and you shrug. “Can I go now?”

They are beating a dead horse at this point and you’re over it.

To your surprise, no one stops you as you rise, allowing you to take your leave before the tears clouding your vision could fall.

The defeat you feel is deep and you can’t even muster the energy to slam your door shut, opting for a quieter close. The fragile click of your door was so soft and it felt as if you were made of glass. To slam the door would only make you shatter into a million pieces onto your bedroom floor.

How foolish of you to think there could ever be a world where you had autonomy in a house filled with hawks.

Your bed greets you with its cozy warmth and you allow yourself to fall apart there, letting out all of your despair and frustration into your pillow and leaving the pieces of your soul to be picked up in the morning.

It’s been a week.

A long, boring, drawn-out week.

You are without your phone, without wifi and without your parents car — so you couldn’t go anywhere if you tried.

It’s been a long week of nothing, not even from Tomura. You assume he can put two and two together and figure out something has gone wrong. The thought brings you a little peace, but not for long.

You barely leave your room and barely say two words to your parents. The isolation is… lonely.

Even if you went out to the living room to watch television, you run the risk of running into one of your parents — and you can really do without another lecture. The only thing on your mind this past week has been Tomura. What was he doing? Did he pick up on your silence? Last time he showed up at your house, but that’s not happening this time around.

You sit up from your bed, realizing that sitting around rotting away would drive you mad, and look to your window. The sun was setting and dusting the rest of the world in pretty orange and pink hues. It would be nightfall soon, and you don't think you could spend another night in this room, alone.

So, against all better judgment, you open your window, look back to listen for any suspicious footsteps — the lack thereof giving you the greenlight — and climb out of your window, stumbling on to the ground as you try to regain your footing from the drop.

You weren't sure where your feet were taking you, but you didn't care, the feeling of fresh air against your cheeks was all you really needed for a clear head.

Your feet lead you to the mall, the start of all your problems and the beginning of your independence.

It felt strange, seeing all kinds of happy faces throughout the mall. Blissfully unaware of their freedoms and enjoying their night. The jarring feeling pushes your feet to the familiar route, flashing colors and blaring music of the arcade greeting you.

It’s comforting, in a way. But you didn’t bring any money. You didn't bring anything but what you were wearing so you could only look around, watching friends and couples alike laugh together.

There's an area near the back of the arcade with tall barstools and empty tables. You decide to take a seat there and sulk on your own. At least you were no longer trapped in your room, forced to watch your four walls while the days passed you by.

You were in a daze, tracing the brown lines on the wooden table with your eyes, until someone interrupted you by sitting right next to you. You turn to face the culprit, less than friendly words on your tongue and ready to let whoever have a piece of your mind.

But you stop in your tracks as ruby red eyes look down at you.

Tomura.

He was here, next to you and your heart fluttered at the realization.

“What’s your problem?” He joked, rasp in his voice comforting to your ears.

You don’t stop yourself from pulling him into a hug, his black hoodie soft and familiar. “How did you know I was here?” You mumble into the fabric and miraculously Tomura understands you.

“I didn’t.” The admission causes you to pull back, looking up at him through your long lashes. “None of my calls or texts went through, and I tried to stop by but your dad was suspiciously outside.” He brings a hand to your head, brushing your hair back and giving you a small smile. “I still like coming here, so I did. Something to pass the time. Ironically, I saw you walk by.

You hum, fighting the pout that wanted to make its way onto your face. “They took my phone. They took everything, even the birth control pills. I can’t keep living like this, Tomura.”

“I know.” He responds, soothing your nerves even with his presence. “I can get you another phone.”

The suggestion only makes you shake your head, it doesn’t tackle the real underlying issue.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s only a matter of time before they find that too. We’ve seen that they aren’t above going through my things. It’s hell. I can’t do it anymore.”

This seems to make Tomura ponder, taking your words in and running them through his mind for a solution. His expression is fixed when he looks back at you.

“Then don’t.”

“What?”

“Don’t go back home.” He elaborates, “Come stay with me. My place is big enough, it shouldn’t matter.”

You are shaking your head before you realize, pulling away from him with a stern look. “No, no I can't do that. I can’t impose on you like that.”

Tomura gives you a halfhearted glare. “It’s not imposing if I'm offering. They’re assholes, and I'm usually home alone anyway. Well, besides Kurogiri.” He leans in, pressing his forehead to yours, “C’mon, just go home tonight, pack a bag and then meet me here tomorrow. Can you do that?”

There was no other option you would want more so you nod, giving a short okay as Tomura presses his lips to yours.

It's set — by this time tomorrow you will be free.

#shigaraki tomura #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki tomura x you #tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #mha x reader #my works #tomura shigaraki smut #shigaraki smut

594 notes · View notes

darklordofthesimp · 1 year

Text

Underneath (König x Reader)

Summary: You'd been looking for some time alone when you'd gone to the shooting range at nearly midnight. König clearly had the same idea.

Requested by Anon: #47 I forget how to speak whenever you're around and it's embarrassing.

A/N: Honestly, this felt sooo trash. My apologies anon, König was difficult to write here.

Categories: Hurt/Comfort || Fluff || Mutual Pining

Warnings: Mild Swearing

The night air was crisp, your breath leaving small clouds of white to trail behind you. You adjusted the strap of the weapon slung across your shoulder and shivered. Next time you’d have to dress warmer if you wanted to take a late night stroll, but you knew full well you’d make the same mistake.

As KorTac’s resident marksman, the firing range was almost like your second home. Your sniper rifle was an extension of your limbs and this place gave you the opportunity to exercise it. It would be worth the walk and worth the cold.

You glanced at your watch as you entered the facility. It was 2300 hours, no one in their right mind would be at the range this late on a Friday night. You’d have the floor to yourself, blowing off steam with unlimited ammunition into the early hours of the morning: the perfect way to start off the weekend.

As you entered the doors and rounded the corner, your breath left you in a gasp and you stumbled backward.

“König!”

The giant came to a screeching halt in an attempt to not bowl you over, his eyes wide as he appraised you. He held a sniper rifle in his right hand, the weapon looking like a Nerf gun in comparison to the sheer size of him. Your heart thrashed wildly in your chest at the scare of unexpected company.

“Jesus,” you rasped, a small laugh slipping from you lips. “What’re you doing here so late?”

There was a short pause as the man gathered his bearings, the both of you thrown off by each other’s presence. “Probably the same as you.”

You nodded your head with a small shrug. You should have guessed that König wouldn’t be at the club with the rest of the team. He was the resident introvert, maniacal on the battlefield but withdrawn in the barracks.

König was an enigma.

It’s what drew you to him like a moth to a flame. Although, the man avoided you where he could. You guessed he wasn’t as curious about you as you were about him.

“Is this why you’re better than most with a sniper?” You nodded towards his rifle but his eyes remained glued on you. “You shoot at midnight?”

It was mean to be a joke but there was some truth to your question. König was one of the better snipers in KorTac, as though he were born with a natural talent for the role. You wondered if he’d ever consider pushing for a change in positions.

“Better than most,” he agreed quietly with a shrug, but then his eyes sparkled with amusement. “However, I shoot at midnight to be better than you.”

Your heart stuttered at the words. You knew he was joking, or at least attempting to break the ice, but it always felt good to hear words of affirmation. Snipers were very much out of sight and out of mind until you needed them and you’d rarely received compliments on your work outside of training.

“Well,” you breathed, shifting the weight of the rifle on your back. It was cold but suddenly there was warmth blooming along your neck as König watched you intently. “Now I wanna see if you’re going to put me out of a job.”

König’s eyes widened and you saw him hesitate.

“You,” he cleared his throat, “you want to watch me shoot?”

You offered him a small smile in response, it was cheeky but not enough to alarm him. The last thing you wanted was to make a 6’10 mountain of a man think that you were here to laugh at him

You knew that König was a good shot, though you also knew he was not on the same playing field as you. Something told you he needed a win, though. If watching him shoot and complimenting his ability would give him something warm on such a frigid day, then it would be the least you could do.

After all, you don’t go to the range at midnight on a Friday night unless you’re lonely.

“Actually,” König began, suddenly shifting on his feet uneasily. “I’ve been wanting to ask you something.”

You nodded your head, indicating for the man to continue. Silence swept into the conversation as König’s gaze flickered from your rifle to the floor, his hands moving to rest behind his back. You could tell his fingers were fidgeting even though he’d hid them from your view.

Finally, he spoke. “I wanted to ask for your help, I’m having trouble adjusting this rifle.”

Your mouth fell open and you blinked at him dumbly.

The giant blinked back.

“Yes!” You said with a start, realizing he was waiting for your response. “Of course- yeah. Lay down and set her up as best you can while I go offload my shit.”

König let loose a breath, his shoulders relaxing from where they’d been bunched. The sniper’s hood that he wore should have made him difficult to read, but his body language was beyond expressive.

When you returned from laying your shit down in the next aisle, König was on his stomach and those long legs were stretched out to full length. Again, you marvelled at the size of him.

He was peering down the sight of his rifle, a frustrated sigh deflating his chest as you looked down on him. You could see what was wrong with his positioning, then the actual rifle would be an entirely different beast to tackle.

“König,” you brought his attention back to you as your eyes skimmed over his body, watching for any flaws you may have missed. When you looked back at him, the man was watching you from above his shoulder. Your heart skipped a beat at the intensity of that emerald gaze, the determination to find out how to better himself.

You let loose a breath.

“Can I fix your position for you?” The question was soft but König’s hand flexed against his weapon anyway.

“Of course.”

You started with his legs, grabbing the inside of his right knee to push it upward. He helped you tucking it up so that it sat parallel to his body.

“It absorbs the recoil without shifting your line of fire,” you explained, and you saw his head nod from above the contour of his back. You stood over him, your feet planted on either side of his waist in an attempt to see the angle his body lay on.

Finally, you made your way to his arms, lowering yourself beside him. That green gaze flickered towards you, taking in your bent over form and settling on where you rested on both your knees.

He looked away as his breath hitched.

“Pick your elbows up,” you murmured, leaning over him as he lifted his arms. You tucked them a bit closer to where he had them initially, your chest brushing against the back of his head as you moved. His biceps were hard beneath your fingers and you swallowed thickly. “Now lean into them outward so the skin of your elbows is stretched.”

Again, the man obeyed.

“See how everything feels so much tighter?” You asked, leaning back onto your knees with your hands on the floor behind you.

König groaned at the sight.

You frowned.

“Is…” you cleared your throat, sitting straight. “Is it not good? I can adjust it if –“

“It’s fine,” König said quickly, his voice strained.

Your heart sunk at the urgency in his words, as though he were impatient. You thought that this was what he wanted, he had asked for your help.

“Well,” you rubbed the back of your neck with a sigh. “Give it a shot then, big guy.”

Big guy.

König missed the target.

You gawked at the small screen bolted to the floor between your bodies. When your eyes flicked over to the man lying next to you, he closed his eyes with a sigh.

“Try again,” you tried to keep your voice neutral but to miss the target entirely was a pretty big feat. Especially for someone like König who, usually, was an excellent shot.

This time, the bullet had barely caught the edge of the cardboard. The screen emitted a small beep, informing you both that he’d missed the centre aiming mark by 2,876 millimetres.

If that was a person, he’d have taken some fabric off of his shirt sleeve.

König sat up suddenly, a low growl reverberating in his chest. “Sheiße!”

“Is it the rifle?” You questioned as he rested his back against the isle wall, dropping his hands against his knees. His head fell rearward, gaze moving to the ceiling and for a second there he looked truly hopeless.

You didn’t receive a response.

“If it’s the positioning then-“

König’s head snapped upright, his eyes settling on you with an expression you’d never seen on him. You felt like you were burning.

“It’s you,” he said simply.

Your mouth dried.

“Oh.”

You stood to your feet without another word. Your chest felt heavy, and your skin stung as though the words had been a whip bearing down on your body. Embarrassment flooded your cheeks as a cold chill trickled down your spine.

You hadn’t realized how cold it was in that room.

Before you could walk from the aisle, König was on his feet. He stood before you, hands raised as though attempting to placate your or surrender. He was careful not to touch you, but the way he leaned in made you think that he wanted to.

“Not,” he stumbled over the words, they were desperate and choked. “Not like that. Never like that.”

You stared at him incredulously.

“Don’t leave,” König murmured, stepping into your space. Your head was craned so that you could see him, though eventually you gave up and tossed your gaze to the side. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“What did you mean, then?” Your voice was hard, and you heard him suck in a breath. “You ask me to help you then don’t talk to me when I do.”

After a pregnant pause, a hand came to rest against your upper arm and you forced yourself to stay still. When a finger tucked itself beneath your chin, forcing your eyes upward, your knees trembled dangerously beneath you.

“I’m not ignoring you, I swear it.” König’s words fell from his lips in a tumble, that emerald gaze intent, “I just forget how to speak whenever you’re around and it’s embarrassing.”

Your jaw would have fallen open had it not been for his fingers holding it.

The silence was heavy as his words settled and you couldn’t think of a single thing to respond to him with. How were you meant to tell him that you felt the same way? How were you meant to express the effect that he had on you without sounding like a child?

Eventually, his fingers slipped from your skin and a chill fell over your body at his absence.

König took a step back, his body rigid.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped, his shoulders squared, and his eyes cast downward. “That was inappropriate, I shouldn’t have- “

“Don’t apologize,” your voice was barely a whisper, but the words echoed like a gunshot in the space between you. “Don’t you dare take that back.”

König watched you carefully from beneath the hood.

You decided, as his fingers slowly returned to your skin, that tonight you’d be under that hood with him.

#könig mw2 #könig x reader #König #könig cod #könig call of duty #konig x reader #konig mw2 #konig cod #konig #konig call of duty #konig modern warfare #call of duty mw2 #call of duty x reader #cod x reader

6K notes · View notes

highhhfiveee · 7 months

Note

Mike x reader, with reader who works long hours during the daytime and Mike working at night which results in them barely having time to see eachother besides from dinner and bedtime

oh, you wanted angst fr 🥲 i think it could go either way, but honestly angst is what stood out to me first. i’m going to make this sadder too, just because i can 💜

to crumble (mike schmidt x reader)

tags/warnings: angst, pain, prescription drug mentions, fluff and cuteness in the beginning but not for long. mike fucks up, reader picks up his slack. things just don’t work! let me know if i missed anything! mndi.

this is long, sorry ;-; there are also probably a million errors in this, please ignore 💜

part 2 here: 🏳️

all i can think ab is the unbearable pain that replaces the love in your hearts as time goes on.

you’ve been together for half a year. things were fun at first, but once you decide to move in to help with abby, you start to see the cracks in the foundation.

in this one, reader works two jobs (bc let’s face it, this is unfortunately realistic); teaching from 9-4 and cashiering from 5-8:30. mike doesn’t want you working two jobs and you didn’t want to, but you knew that your salaries combined wouldn’t keep you afloat. abby’s school is expensive, and so is everything else in life. the extra money you get from cashiering gives you guys flexibility.

every morning at 6:30, monday to friday, you wake up alone. even though you know it’ll probably be empty, you still reach your arm over to run it over mike’s side. it’s always cold and flat, completely untouched.

you brush this off at first; it's one of the things that comes with him working overnight and you know he needs this job so that he can keep abby. you want that for him and know that love is sacrifice.

you wake abby up and start getting her ready in between fixing yourself up; brushing her teeth while you brush yours, letting her get a few more minutes of sleep in while you throw on your clothes, guiding her through packing her bag while you make breakfast. by that time, closer to 7:30, mike is finally walking into the house.

his eyes are hooded and surrounded by dark bags and you can tell he's exhausted from the way he hangs his things up lethargically. he kisses abby, who's running around collecting things, on the head, then ambles over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing along your neck.

they're soft, gentle actions that make you forget about not being able to do things like this at night. it doesn't matter when you have mornings with him, even if it's only 30 minutes before you have to go. you giggle and reach a hand up to his cheek, kissing him on his other one.

"missed you," you whisper.

"missed you too," he mumbles back, planting a kiss on your lips before stalking away to ask abby something.

you all eat breakfast together, and then you're slipping abby's coat over her shoulders before you put on your own. you usher her to the car and give mike one last kiss before you leave, a deep one that you hope he feels all day. when you pull away, you can see the affection sparkling in his eyes, low and tired but expressive nonetheless.

"i love you," he whispers, his sleepiness masquerading as love-drunkeness.

"i love you, mike. get some rest, okay?"

you drop abby off, wishing her well, before you're alone for the next 12 hours. it often drags. at your teaching job, you feel as if it's just passing you buy in waves, everything whizzing past you at light speed. you're aware that you're in front of the kids, but then you just blackout. you're thrown into autopilot, and you do this over and over until your lunch break at 1. you text mike to pass the time.

sometimes it's something silly, like "god i do not get paid enough" or "a kid just ate glue /: send help", to which mike will respond "😂😂😂" or "lol you deserve millions (:". he makes you laugh, and it's enough to help you push through the end of the day.

he picks up abby from school, asking her all about her day and what she wants for dinner. he'll text you what she says so you know what to expect when you get home, like "meatloaf 🍖🍞 (:" or "chicken alfredo 0: fancy".

for you, transitioning from teaching to customer service was easy; all you had to do was maintain that same autopilot: smile on, eyes alert, prepared for anything. no one suspected a thing when you could keep up and answer their questions.

mike helps abby with her homework, scratching his head with the eraser of a pencil when he draws blanks on a math or history question. abby only sighs, telling him about something off-topic. "art class is much more interesting."

mike starts dinner while you're closing up at work, sweeping the front end of the store and counting down your drawer. he lets abby help sometimes, and they usually have it ready for you by the time you're home at 9.

abby meets you at the door, and you hug her tight, picking her up and waltzing her back into the house. mike is setting the dining table, greeting you with a sleepy smile and, "the queen has arrived."

you all sit down and eat, and it's another one of those moments where everything feels okay. the last 12 hours didn't matter when you were able to have this at the end of it.

you tell abby and mike about your day over spaghetti, spilling details about prideful parents and spiteful customers. abby laughs all throughout, asking questions about being a cashier. mike just listens, eyes and heart floating between the two of you.

you clear the table while mike goes to get ready for work, and a wash of dread passes over you. your brain knows what's happening next. you'll kiss him goodbye, clinging to his hoodie sleeve for a second longer than you should, and then you'll settle down with abby, bathing her and reading her to sleep. then you'll be alone. it will just be you and the screech of infomercials until midnight, and then you'll be off to sleep, snuggling into a pillow that smells like mike.

you push the feeling away, shaking your head and hands and doing just as you know. there's the kiss, the night routine with abby, and the moment you sit on the couch, surrounded by tv light and the croaking of cicadas.

mike doesn't text during his shift unless it's an emergency. it makes you sad, but you understand. security requires focus, and you require sleep.

for a while, this works. it's what you and mike have to do to make ends meet, and while you both think that it'll only get better with more time at it, it doesn't.

you still wake up alone and go through the same rhythm, but when mike comes in around 7:30, it's not 7:30 anymore. it's 7:39, then 7:45, then 7:58. the latest he's ever been, so late that you're not able to eat with him. he shrugs it off when you mention it, kissing your cheek and retreating to the bedroom to sleep.

you drop abby off as usual, and go to work. work. work. work.

mike starts missing your lunch break texts, sometimes dozing dangerously close to when abby's school lets out. while your class works, you bitterly stare at your text conversation. your unanswered "shaping america's future is kinda sick" message stares back at you until it's replaced by abby's school calling. your heart drops to your stomach as you step out of the room to take the call, answering the phone with, "is she okay?"

mike didn't pick her up. she's out at 2:30 and it's 3:30 now, and she's crying and scared because he didn't pick up the phone, and she always calls him first.

you leave work in a flurry, asking a fellow teacher to take over, and you speed to abby's school, not caring about tickets or police or anything. you only want to get her home.

mike is dashing out of the door when you pull up, wrenching a sobbing abby out of your backseat and clutching her close. "i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm sorry," he breathes, smoothing her hair and looking up at you with regret etched into every feature on his face.

you try your best to hide your upset, ushering everyone inside before changing into your work clothes. you were going to be late, but you shake it off. abby was home and that was all that mattered.

"hey," mike reaches out to you when you're on your way out. his fingers graze their way down to your hand, and it makes you wish that you could stay home. "thanks for that. i've just been super tired lately and i overslept and---"

"it's okay, baby," you give him a tight lipped smile and a kiss on the knuckles. "just don't let it happen again."

it happens again. and again. and again. it happens so many times that abby starts to think mike is forgetting about her, and you don't know how to get that out of her head. she cries about it more and more with each time you have to pick her up. he stops running out to apologize, still asleep inside.

you rush into the bedroom. he's splayed out over the bed, snoring loudly with his arm hanging over the side. you find an orange pill bottle on his nightstand. an old ambien prescription.

you argue with him before work sometimes.

"what do you need ambien for?"

"i can't sleep."

"but every morning, you skip breakfast to sleep."

"i do fall asleep, but i started waking up out of it. i just take the ambien to help me fall again."

"what time do you take it?"

"i don't know, y/n."

"why are you lying to me?"

"i'm not."

"what time?" you cry, grasping at your chest. a sharp pains thud through your ribcage, and you literally sob. it feels like your heart is tearing in two. "you stare at times, mike. what time do you take the ambien?"

he doesn't answer you and he doesn't know why. it would be so easy to tell you that he takes it at 9 or 10, and that he believes he'll be able to wake himself up around 2 but he doesn't. he can’t sleep without the ambien. he needs it now because he kept himself up in the early days of this, mind toiling over their situation, the endless reassurance that this would work sending him into insomnia.

you leave when he doesn't answer, wiping at your watery eyes and runny nose.

you cashier as a shell of yourself. abby stops asking mike for homework help, and eventually he stops cooking dinner too, trading all that time in for extra sleep after picking her up. you have to explain the situation to your retail store manager, just in case mike forgets again, and start looking after abby more. mike only ever made time to spend with her on the weekends, content with awkward moments over lunch and low energy bickering.

the lunch break texts stop. the dinner texts stop.

he's dressed and ready to leave when you get home these days, prepared to exit as you enter. you don't know what to say as you face each other in the doorway, eyes focused on anything but each other. you don’t even kiss anymore.

"i think abby's asleep already."

you shake your head. "i think she's really sad. she hasn't been coming out of there like she used to. she misses you."

"i miss her too, of course. i'm just busy."

"all you do is work, mike," you deadpan, exhausted with him. you never thought you'd ever get to a point where you looked at mike, the sure love of your life, with disdain, but you felt it creep into you ever so slightly.

"yeah, i know. it fucking sucks, but it's what i have to do to keep abby."

you scoff, scooting past him to take your coat and bag off. "as if you're going to keep her by leaving her at school everyday." it's supposed to be under your breath, but the disdain creeps onto your tongue, bitter and raging, and you say it aloud, to his face.

his jaw clenches and his brown eyes burn, staring you down with an unrelenting severity. you hunch yourself over, dropping your head and sighing out, "mike, i'm sorry. i didn--"

he leaves without another word.

how it got to this, neither of you know. not even the weekends healed anymore. mike caught up on sleep, you caught up on grading, and in your downtime, you avoided each other. for him, it felt easier than being around you. you were irritable all the time, a quick fuse with any word he could think to speak.

for you, it seemed like it was what he wanted. time away from you, from abby, from everyone; time to be alone and recharge for the only thing he ever did, the only thing that was keeping his sister in his care.

you didn't even remember what his touch felt like, what he tasted like. the man that you loved had become but a memory, a ghost that passed through your plane. you’re able to imagine his fluffy hair, his perfect smile, his laugh, his rich smell, but none of it mattered. he didn’t feel like yours anymore.

you suppose it was the same for him, with you existing in the same space but only tangible to him some of the time. he would catch glimpses of your smile, laughing at something on your phone, or talking to abby, meet your eyes when you shuffled back to the bedroom from the bathroom, rimmed in red from crying for the last 30 minutes.

he starts sleeping on the couch, unable to even lay beside you.

mike does a lot of crying. a lot of screaming into his pillow, wondering why he fucks these things up so badly. you do the same, wondering why you stay in situations that hurt you.

this goes on for longer than you two would like, so long that you don't even celebrate your one-year anniversary.

the day passes without noise, mike sleeping and you working.

a prequel of sorts : x

THIS WAS SO FUCKING LONG MY BBBBBBBB OMG. i did NOT mean to go this deep in, i just felt SOOOOO MUCH! my little brain got sad ): i could go deeper into this too one day, breaking up moments into specific little blurbs or ficlets d: let me know if y'all even enjoyed this lmaooo off to write for Halloween lol

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #mike schmidt angst #fnaf angst #fnaf movie #fnaf #fnaf fic #faire’s mike schmidt <3 #this was painful #kind of tired so it may be ass but #it feels painful #imagine your relationship just falling to pieces 💔#i made this so long #whoops #faire is writing stuff #josh hutcherson

881 notes · View notes

mitsies · 6 months

Text

❊ turn me down - michael kaiser . . loving you might just be the unluckiest fate.

there is an ache in kaiser's chest that he can't get rid of.

it's been lingering for far too long to be normal. like a broken wire, sparks fly down his spine, burning from the inside. he's already tried writing it off as bad sleep. he's tried explaining it away as lifestyle, or certain foods, or other irrelevant factors. but no matter what he tries, this dull pain, it persists. it lives inside him; a parasite.

he feels it when the train slows to a stop. he feels it in his history lecture when his professor says something dull. he feels it on the football field when he really, really shouldn't. kaiser can't escape the sensation. it follows him like a shadow, like a bad omen, like a ghost.

and the only solution, he's found, is your touch.

this is discovered on a rain-soaked monday. the both of you had been taking cover in your apartment, and your roommates were all out. it hadn't been awkward, not at all. because before anything else, the both of you were friends. you'd met in a chemistry class a few months back. your friendship was new, and it was easy; it was even easier for him to fall for you.

maybe it had happened that night, when the two of you had shared your first kiss together. when you'd both agreed to be a little more than friends, but not much more. when he'd first touched you the way he wanted to. or maybe he'd fallen for you before that— back in the class, back to your first study session. or maybe it was sometime after. he doesn't know. he may never know. but as it stands, that's where he is; hopelessly, pathetically infatuated with you.

he thinks of it as something like a blessing. the way you talk to him makes him feel tethered and real. the way your hands trace familiar pathways down his back on late nights makes everything feel right. the way you care about him makes his whole body burn enough to forget the stupid ache in his chest.

you've always been hard to read. he can never quite tell what you're thinking, although he itches, burns, to have every single piece of you learned and memorised. is it just for fun to you? or is it more, like it is to him? do you think about him when he's not there like he thinks about you? does his touch make you feel okay for once, too? he hopes so. he needs it to be true, really. because there is something desperate about the way he loves you. like he's grasping at something that's always just out of reach. like you're the only cure for his pain. like you're the only good thing he has, like he can't let you be just a friend.

but that's all you are, really; just friends. nothing less but also nothing more. an unfortunate conundrum. and even more unfortunate is the fact that in his blindness, he'd neglected to account for the fact that friends-with-benefits was no kind of commitment, either.

the bar is muggy and crowded on friday nights, and tonight is no different. kaiser is usually by your side, but he's let himself get pulled away by some of your friend group for a game of pool. but when he's done, and searches for you, you aren't alone. there's a stranger seated in the barstool where he once was, making conversation with you— and you look amused. a hand is propping your head up and your body is tilted towards the stranger, and your eyes crinkle a little around the corner like they do when you find something funny, and kaiser is angry. his body aches, it burns. an ugly feeling melts into his bones, mixing not-too-well with the alcohol already in his system as he moves to where you're sitting.

maybe it's ego. maybe it's envy. or maybe, just maybe it's desperation, as he inserts himself between you and the man with a crooked grin in your direction. "everything okay here, darling?"

you might be hard to read at times, but there's no mistaking the venom that burns behind your eyes as you glare at him. it should hurt. but you're looking at him, so how bad could it be?

you feign a smile and play along, presumably to avoid embarrassment. "yes. yes, actually, more than okay. in fact, i'm ready to go now. mind paying my tab?"

he likes you when you're irritated. he likes you all the time. he'd pay your tab even if you didn't ask. kaiser can feel your anger swell as the man you were speaking to dismisses himself, and as he leads you out of the bar. but he can't be angry. not now, because you take his hand when it's offered. he knows it's to avoid a scene, but he'll pretend it's more than that. your hand in his sends warmth down his body in sparks, enough to make everything else disappear.

"what the hell was that?"

you're mad. he knew you'd be. but he loves you so he just smiles like an idiot.

the street outside the bar is mostly empty. no one is close enough to hear your conversation, and only a few bar hoppers remain, waiting for a cab or stumbling to their next destination. a streetlight shines down on you, turning you amber in its light. you look beautiful. you might've been waiting for him to respond, he's not sure; but when he doesn't, you keep going.

"kaiser, what is your problem?"

something about your saying his name snaps him out of his haze. oh. what was he doing?

"we agreed," you continue, "we're just friends. just friends. we're not anything, kaiser. we're nothing, got that?"

you're mad, you're so mad. and your words burn and sting, like whips on skin, like fire on flesh. he's silent. he doesn't have anything to say, now that the fog has lifted around his brain. you and him were nothing. he loves you like a godless man, but you and him are nothing.

"right," is all kaiser says. he lacks his usual conviction or confidence. he fears that you may be the only person who will ever be capable of reducing him to ashes. you cross your arms and stare at him with a sardonic, "yeah. right."

he loves you. he loves you like a saint, he loves you like you're all he has. and he realises, right there on the sidewalk in front of a dingy bar, that loving you does nothing but hurt.

he never ached the way he does now before he met you. he never burned with emotion too strong to contain. knowing you brought on the pain, and loving you made it worse, and being around you ruined him. this was not a blessing. this was a curse. your touch was not a cure as much as it was a cause.

it hurts to love you. it hurts to love you this much and get nothing back. he knows he shouldn't, now, he's realised that it'll only make things worse. he shouldn't. but he can't let you go, not now. he's addicted to the pain, he's addicted to the melancholy of it all. which is why he smiles. which is why he says, "can i take you home and make up for it, then?"

your face is unreadable, you're sure. and he'd never know how you were feeling at that very moment. because you're hard to read on purpose. because you're not ready for him to know. but that same pain, that same hurt; you feel it too. that same love. unrequited, in your eyes. nothing but trouble. that same love, that makes you smile back. that same love that makes you say, "it's the least you could do," as you take his hand and leave.

maybe one day one of you will have the courage to shut it down or open up. maybe one day, you'll both really end up as either something or nothing. maybe one day, the ache of love's burden will lift. but for now, the pendulum swings as one of you waits for the other to finally put them out of their misery, and turn them down.

flower chosen: yellow rose . . jealousy

❊ send a request! ❊ 5k masterlist ❊ event info ❊

#aka fwb but he's in love with u #michael kaiser x reader #kaiser x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #bllk #kaiser michael x reader #blue lock kaiser #kaiser michael #michael kaiser #blue lock #inspired by “turn me down” by julia jacklin!#mitsies 5k #sorry about this MESS i have not written in 5ever and my brain is meltingrn over kaisers recent hairstyle and also finals ig

495 notes · View notes

fcthots · 6 months

Note

thinking about childhood best friends to lovers jason. who spent hours in the school library with you, laughing and whispering over textbooks. who took you to prom, because you didn’t have a date and definitely not because he was in love with you. who let you drive his car when you got your license. who refused to let you take the bus as soon as he could drive.

jason, who only applied to colleges you also applied to, so that he wouldn’t have to go to school without you. who convinced bruce to let him have an apartment off-campus, so you could stay with him. who made sure he was in all the same classes as you. who made sure you were never out alone after dark. who helped you study for all of your exams. who took care of you when the flu was going around campus.

jason, who never lets you move out. who reads to you when you get home from a long day at work, your head in his lap. who washes your makeup off for you when you’re too tired. who cooks for you every night and makes sure you have coffee ready when you get up every morning.

jason, who finally asks you out over breakfast one morning. who takes you on dates every friday night. who never misses an anniversary or birthday, who takes you out every valentine’s day. who never shuts up about how lucky he is to have you to anyone who will listen.

- 🍓 (apologies for how long this is, i’m sick and have been thinking extensively)

NO ANON BC I HAVE BEEN DAYDREAMING ABOUT THIS ALL DAY

but I've been angsting it.

Because you pick colleges together, but he never gets to go. He lets you drive in his $200,000 car that you were always scared of scratching, but he would reassure you and say he'd fix any damage. That same car was left unused for years. He takes you to prom and you keep the flowers, but you end up leaving the dead flowers at his grave. You would look at two-bedroom apartments together and now you're moving into a single bedroom apartment in the building you always wanted to live in together. He used to write you notes in class which would almost get you caught. Now you wished you saved those notes. The books he used to read to you, you now can't hear quotes from, lest you start crying. He used to help you study for everything and now you swear you don't know how to study alone.

Jason was with you practically every second of every day. What are you supposed to do without him. It's not that there's just a hole in your life. The center of your universe is gone.

#Sorry for angsting this. I was watching sad tiktoks all day and I made myself cry so I had to apply it to Jason #also leave as many asks as u want babe!!#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #saph’s love letters #jason todd #red hood #jason todd imagine #saph’s thots #red hood imagine #jason todd x you #🍓 anon #red hood x you #jason todd angst #jason todd x reader angst #red hood angst #red hood x reader angst #angst #hurt/no comfort

573 notes · View notes

samkerrworshipper · 8 months

Note

begging for leah x it's a bad idea by olivia rodrigo. smut cause why not. boyfriend leah at its finest. and teammate references cause i love me some worried friends.

seeing her tonight, it’s a bad idea right?

leah williamson x reader

lighter smut, lots of fluff, little bit of angst, chelsea wfc x reader, admissions of love minors dni

When I’d heard my phone buzzing the last thing I would have expected was a missed call from her and a flurry of texts.

Leah

Come over? 10.15pm

Please, I miss you, I’m lonely. 10.16pm

Let’s have some fun 😉? 10.18pm

Here’s the new address if you didn’t already have it. Unit two Lower end Road Buckinghamshire. 10.21pm

I hadn’t heard from her in months, not since England beat Australia in the World Cup. I looked around the bar that I was sitting at with my friends and teammates, it was Friday night and we’d taken it upon ourselves to get our weekend started on a goodnote, the Chelsea girls knew how to party. I’m gradually getting myself fucked up and now I can’t get her out of my head, everything about it feels shameful. All I can think about is her, I thought we were done, thought we were through but I can’t help myself from looking down at the texts, she’s calling my phone and she’s all alone and I can’t even hear my own thoughts with the music thrumming through the space and the adrenaline rush that’s getting to my head as I think about her.

Seeing her tonight, it’s a bad idea right?

Fuck it.

I collect my things quite quickly, giving my friends all goodbyes, telling them that I’m not feeling well and I’m just going to get a uber home. Millie, Sam and Guro are all disappointed, Madga insists she’ll drive me home but I deny her immediately, telling her I’ll just catch a uber and that I don’t want to ruin the night for any of them. They all seemed slightly worried by my answer but had accepted it nonetheless, Sam insisting that she’d call the uber for me, which was slightly annoying but also a battle I knew I wouldn’t win, I was just going to have to direct the driver to Leah’s instead of mine.

She walked me out to the car, in typical older sister fashion, she’d adopted me as soon as I’d joined her at Chelsea and it was sometimes funny to me how overprotective she got. She walked me all the way to the car, checking that I had the right driver and making sure I had my seatbelt fastened before saying her goodbyes. The whole time I couldn’t stop thinking about Leah, my brain clouded over with the thoughts of her. Sure she might be my ex but can’t two people reconnect? We just saw each other as friends, right?

As soon as the driver starts to move the car in the direction of my apartment I redirect him to Leah’s apartment, she only lives five minutes away so I just decide I’ll tip him generously.

I can’t believe that I’m wrecking all my plans for her, I know I should stop, but I can’t. I told my friends that I was feeling sick and I was heading to bed but I never said who’s.

Before I know it ‘m showing up at your place, climbing out of the car and looking up at your apartment. Should I? Probably not. All that I can hear in my head is you though, we’re just friends is all I can tell myself but I also know that it’s the biggest lie I’ve ever told myself.

I’m walking up the stairs, to the second floor and before I know what I’m doing I’m knocking on your door and you're standing, smiling at the door.

Before I know she’s pulling me into the apartment and before I can even say anything because her lips are on my own. I don’t even put up a fight, letting her devour me just as I’d been dreaming about the whole way here. It’s just two people reconnecting, right?

Her hands are all over me, snaking up and down my waist and legs as she devours my mouth and neck with ease.

“Bedroom baby, not in the hallway.”

Leah nods eagerly, smirking as she pulls be with one hand down the entrance and quickly into her room, forcing me to trip and fall into her bed.

“Missed you.”

It was murmured against my neck as she continued her assault of the skin all over my body, I swore she was touching every single nerve ending in my body, it was like I was on fire, in all of the best ways. She always made me feel that way, I think that was why I always came crawling back to her even if I was just another one of her things for her to play with when she was bored and alone, at least it was the best sex of my life, every single time.

She took her time as well, tending to every single part of my body before she even dipped below my underwear, taking her time to stirp every layer of my clothes and to worship every part of skin that was revealed to her with another layer gone, I felt like a babushka doll, slowly being stripped down until I was just me. She knew she was good as well, knew just how well she knew my body. She was smug about it, in the disgusting boyfriend way that made me so giddy on the insides.

When she did eventually work her way down I was a trembling, moaning mess. My coherency was gone and all I could do was mutter Leah’s name and a trail of profanities that only she could ever make me produce.

Leah had stamina, an insane amount, she could go all night, she’d proven that to me in the past. I could sense that wasn’t going to be tonight though, something about tonight seemed softer, more delicate, less fucking out our feelings. It was poetic in a way that I’d never experienced with Leah and it sort of weirded me out, not enough to not enjoy the feeling of her tongue slowly descending down on my pussy, licking it’s way through my folds like she was fucking cat. My body reacted almost immediately, letting out more strings of profanities and moans, embarrassingly sinful groans that I was sure Leah’s neighbours could probably hear.

She didn’t stop until I was an incoherent mess, giving me orgasm after orgasm until I couldn’t even talk anymore. Using her tongue, fingers and my facourite vibrator of hers to have me at her mercy. Once I think I’d gotten to my fifth she decided I was done, I was floating on a endorphin cloud, and didn’t even really notice as Leah helped me into her covers and into her blankets and sheets. By the time she had gotten me under them though I’d managed to awaken enough that I was thinking straight and seeing. Leah was lying down next to me, still mostly clothed and as far as I was aware, untouched.

“Let me look after you?”

Leah was never a receiver, told me she found pleasure in seeing me in pleasure, which I loved but I also loved seeing Leah enjoying herself.

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

With that answer Leah had nodded at me, her bottom lip between her teeth as my hand snaked under the covers and down her body, gently unclipping her bra and letting my hand snake further down and inbetween her own legs. She was soaked, dripping straight through her panties and it was pretty easy for me to make her come down with just my hand, pinching her clit and watching her face as she shook and squirted all over my fingers. By the time she’d come down we were both well and truly spent. It didn’t take long for Leah’s hands to wrap their way around my waist, twisting us up in her sheets into a pile of sweat and limbs.

“Missed you.”

Leah’s hands were busying themselves in my hair, massaging my scalp and tugging at my roots.

“Missed you too, Lee.”

My voice was murmured against her bicep, which my head was resting against, giving her easier access to my scalp. I could still feel the faint effects of the alcohol that I had consumed earlier, making me sort of giddy and warm on the inside. Nothing though could compare to the pure warmth of feeling Leah’s breath against my neck, brushing air up and down the sensitive skin.

“What were you doing, before I texted?”

“I was out with the team, getting drinks at the bar on James street.”

I knew that she knew the one I was talking about, I was fairly sure we’d been there together before, but I wasn’t completely certain.

“You left the team for me?”

There was a lot of insecurity in her voice. We were both extremely tied into our clubs, only having played for them and being die hard supporters of our clubs. I bled blue and her blood was Arsenal red, it was just how we were.

“I guess, what did you think I was doing?”

Leah’s hands continued their gentle rub of my head, she practically had me mewling in her arms.

“I guess I thought you were home or something, didn’t really think about it, figured if you were doing something that you would just ignore me.”

“You know that I would never ignore you right. I physically can’t.”

Leah’s hands stopped for a split second when the words left my mouth, not long enough for it to be highly noticeable though.

“I’m sorry I ghosted you.”

“You didn’t ghost me, ghosting is implying that I reached out to you and you have actively ignored me, we mutually discommunicated. It’s not like we’re dating or anything, you're under no obligation to text me.”

Leah’s hands began to slow, a clear sign she was thinking.

“Did you want to text me?”

It was a dopey question, so Leah like.

“Of course I wanted to text you Leah, I just didn’t know what we were and I didn’t want to make assumptions.”

“What do you think we are?”

I let the question hand in the air for a few minutes, contentedly relaxing into Leah’s fingers and thinking about the question.

“I mean Leah, it’s no secret that you make your way around. I always thought I was just another one of your girls that you call when you're feeling horny, I’m fine with that, but I’d be lying if I said that I hadn’t wanted more at some stage.”

I heard Leah exhale from above me, we’d always had a friends with benefits relationship, that’s always how I’d classified it.

“I love you, y/n.”

I froze up at those words, they’d been the very last thing I’d been expecting to leave Leah’s mouth.

“No you don’t, shut up, the endorphins are getting to your head.”

It was my defence mechanism, denial and refusal.

“Uh, I’ve got bad news for you, I think I do.”

Before I knew it she was tilting my head back fully, so I was looking at her in the eye and just one look at those brown orbs showed me the amount of sincerity that was held in them.

“What?”

I was so fucking confused, surely it was the alcohol, the scotch that I’d had getting to my head.

“I mean, I know that most of our relationship has been sex, but the mronigns and nights we’ve spent together have been amazing and I know everyone thinks that I work my way around but as soon as I started seeing you I stopped, because you were enough, but it’s not enough for me anymore seeing you once a month or whenever we can, I want you everyday. I want to wake up beside you, I want to have sleepy morning sex and breakfast in bed. I want you all the time, not when we can make it work.”

The sentence was ended with a peck to my forehead, it took everything in my power to not laugh at Leah because even though I knew she was being genuine there was something so funny about this whole predicament to me.

“Are you sure?”

“What do you mean am I sure, of course I am, I wouldn’t have laid my heart out like that if I wasn’t.”

Leah’s voice was full of exasperation, I knew it was taking a lot for her to make these admissions because whether or not she wanted to admit it she was a very guarded person and it took a lot for her to say something like that.

“That’s nice.”

Leah let out a snort, a big, loud snort that just make me smile.

“That’s nice? That’s all I get after laying my heart out?”

“I love you too?”

My words were muttered out between a litter of laughs and breaths as I watched Leah’s face contort into something of annoyance and adoration.

“Can you say it without it being a question?”

I licked my lips and smiled at her.

“What do I get if I do?”

“Will a kiss suffice?”

I bit my lip and smirked at her.

“I love you.”

I put as much into the words as I could, being rewarded with a soft kiss to my lips, both of our eyes were growing heavy and you could tell by the softness in the actions.

“Say it again.”

I rolled my eyes at Leah, reaching up and pressing my lips to hers between every word.

“I,” kiss “Love,” kiss “You,” kiss “Leah,” kiss “Williamson.”

I could feel her smirking against my lips and everything about it was right.

“Now that I’ve made it clear, I’m actually feeling quite tired so how about you give me some hugs and we go to sleep and maybe have that sleepy morning sex you mentioned when we wake up?”

Leah smirked at me, smugly, how she did when anyone talked about sex around her.

“I think I can do that.”

I’d moved onto my side and Leah’s arms had woven her way around my waist, essentially spooning me. It was so wholesome, so unlike anything that had ever occurred between us and before I knew it I was drifting off in Leah’s arms.

I was awoken unhappily by the sound of my phone ringing madly from beside us. I picked it up quickly, before I could get a look at the caller ID, too worried that the sound would awaken Leah. I was lucky she was a deep sleeper. I very hastily pressed the phone to my ear, to be met with the voice of my adoptive sister/mother.

“Where the fuck are you?”

I probably should have expected this call.

“What do you mean?”

“I just got home, you’re not here.”

Fuck.

“I’m with a friend.”

I heard Sam’s growl from the other side of the line.

“You said you were sick, why the fuck are you with a friend?”

I didn’t really have an answer to that question.

“I’m safe, I’m fine, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I hung up the phone quickly, placing it back down on the bedside table and sliding myself back into Leah, tangling our limbs back together and slotting myself back in next to her.

“Who was it?”

Leah’s voice was full of sleep and I was sure she hadn’t even opened her eyes.

“Sam.”

Leah nodded against me, clearly content with my answer.

“What did she want?”

“Wanted to know where I was, I told her I was sick when I left the bar and I guess she got home and wondered where I was. She sounded like she’d had a few drinks, she probably won’t even remember by the time morning rolls around.”

Leah nodded again, I could tell she wasn’t fully awake and didn’t intend on becoming fully awake.

“Go back to sleep, we’ll sort it out in the morning.”

I let myself relax back into Leah’s body, relaxing into her warmth and the safety she offered and letting myself fall back to sleep in her arms.

I would have loved to have said that I awoke to sleepy, morning kisses and sex. I didn’t. I woke up to the sound of somebody pounding on Leah’s door. Both Leah and I shot up in the bed, her jumping up quickly and finding a discarded pair of boxer shorts and an oversized shirt very quickly and me locating my pants and shirt from the night before and throwing them on quick enough to see Leah sliding out of her room and down the hall. I managed to duck my head out just in time to see her open the door and see who was waiting behind it, silently shitting myself when I saw the four women pushing past a very shell shocked Leah.

Millie, Magda, Pernille and Sam were the four last people I wanted to see in this circumstance and place.

“Sure, just let yourselves in, no worries guys.”

There was insecurity hidden behind her words, as much as she tried to make them sound confident.

“What the fuck are you all doing here?”

My voice was close to a shriek, it was 6.30 in the morning for fucks sakes and yet they were all here, looking as bright as daisies in Leah’s apartment.

“You told us you were sick, Sam got an ominous call from you, we looked at your location, it said you were here, so we came to check up on you, see how that sickness was going. Seems like you’ve found yourself a carer in our absence though. I wasn’t aware you two were acquainted, good morning Leah, good to see you getting out of your shell.”

Leah and I both looked at each other and then back at Millie, she could be down right scary when she was mad or annoyed.

“I’m feeling much better.”

There was sass behind my words that I knew wouldn’t slide with the group.

“I think you’d both better get to explaining, fairly quickly, before we all start to make assumptions.”

I smirked at Sam, it was all going to happen in due time I supposed, and there was no way of trying to worm out of this situation so what was the harm in telling a few people. I looked at Leah for assurance and when I saw her nod at me I started talking,

“Leah and I have been in a situation for a few months now, on and off since around the olympics I think. Nothing commitment, just friends with benefits. She texted me last night and I decided I wanted to go see her, so I told you all I felt sick and I headed over to her house. I’m sure you can piece together with your own heads what happened between then and now.”

I waved my hand nonchalantly at the group that was congregated in Leah’s kitchen, they were my family, Magda and Pernille were Millie, Sam and I’s parents and we were all sisters. Magda was the bad cop, because she never let anything slide and was always onto us about anything. Pernille the good cop, always sending us smiles and little graces that we loved her for. We loved the both equally, for the different things they both provided. I knew Leah had a similar relationship with Kim Little, who was like her Arsenal mom, she was probably going to be the next person we would have to face about this.

“What the actual fuck?”

Sam’s voice piping up didn’t surprise me, out of all of them she was the most protective of mek being my National captain as well we spent a lot of time together, she was my best friend in the entire world.

“Samantha, watch that language.”

Sam gave Magda and eyeroll before turning back to Leah and I, Leah who was now standing beside me in the doorway of her room, the room we had previously been sleeping in, something I missed quite largely.

“You’re telling me that you two fucking rabbits kept this a secret for like three years and now you’re telling people, what the actual flying fuck.”

Magda’s hand was squeezing Sam’s bicep and I was a little bit scared for Leah’s safety if that hand Magda had secured slipped.

“Well the circumstances between us have changed, slightly.”

Leah nodded in agreement with my statement, clearly she was trying to help present a united front.

“Leah and I are dating?”

The words felt weird leaving my mouth, but Leah’s nod from beside me gave me the impression that they were the right words and it made me sort of warm on the inside, like drinking a cup of hot cocoa in the middle of winter and feeling it seep into your bones.

“Well, I’m glad we’ve sorted this all out, we’ll leave you both to it, although don’t think we won’t be having words about this y/n, we will be. Besides that I think it’s time we leave, sorry for disturbing you both, sorry for breaking into your apartment Williamson, I’m sure we’ll see you around now. We’ll see you later y/n/n.”

Magda’s voice was strong, it was an order for the rest of the group to leave and for some reason, they did, the four of them blushing, speechless messes as they filed out of Leah’s apartment without any words besides some hushed goodbyes. As soon as the door closed both Leah and I were erupting in laughter.

Seeing her last night maybe wasn’t that bad of an idea? right?

#woso #woso community #lionesses #leah williamson #sam kerr #arsenal wfc #chelsea wfc x reader #chelsea wfc #marry me rn #magdalena eriksson #millie bright #pernille harder

561 notes · View notes

thelordfool · 3 months

Text

HELP ME PLEASE!!!!!

Long story short: I'm unemployed and will not, unlike what I originally thought, qualify for unemployment benefits.

Please read the readmore for additional context on why I'm unemployed. This post is basically a continuation/update/redo of this post. I'm suffering a sickness with no medicine the past week, applied for almost 100 jobs the last two weeks, am disabled/queer/nonbinary/tired of ebegging. I'm also in the negatives in my bank account because my car payment came out, so I need to get that covered.

pp/vm/ca

$250/$1151.51

i need at least $511.51 of this by the first. please spread if you're financially unable to help, every person this reaches helps! here's the breakdown of the costs: $640 - car payment + late fees $380 - rent $131.51 - negative amount in bank currently

Oh hey thanks for stopping by to read this annoying tale of woe and being angry at capitalism. Prepare for wall of text.

I once had two jobs. The first job, at a chain restaurant, was a bit of a clique-y experience where I was working my damndest to be the best bartender they ever had. I still have all the cocktails memorized. However, I continually faced discrimination in the form of severe misgendering, no matter how often I corrected them. I was also set up for failure. Usually, when someone gets hired for a position, there's some amount of training to be done, no matter how experienced they are, right? I was going in nearly entirely inexperienced into the role. I knew how to make cocktails, sure, and was and still am very good with people and selling. But I was trained for two days. Two. Then, on my first night alone (a Friday), I was watched by one of the bigwigs at corporate who saw every little flub and failure. This caused a demotion-ish. I was demoted to barback but was allowed the same privileges. Until their next visit. That upset the hell out of me - I was well trained by that point and could do it all, with one hand tied behind my back. I digress. It was about 2 months following my demotion when i finally walked out. A new bartender had been hired and she thought I was being a total creep by looking at a ticket that had just come in. She stormed off to report me to the manager who, even after hearing my side where I had asked her if there was anything on the ticket that I could grab, said that I "needed to communicate better," and "you should be learning from her," and "you're a grown man, you should know better." I don't think I need to explain why that was so upsetting.

But I didn't report them, because I just wanted to be done with it. I was also working another bartending job, and everythign was literally perfect other than the hours, honestly. I loved the product the distillery made, I loved the people I worked with, and most of all: I had my own regulars. Last month, they hired a new hospitality director, who announced there would be some restructuring, including getting rid of servers while also making a full dinner menu to serve alongside drinks. I said nothing of it, despite my disagreements, and she assured us all that no one would lose their jobs, but just moved into different roles. We all kinda grumbled about it, and I told her that under no circumstances would I work back of house. Easy peasy. Till it wasn't, and I came home to a voicemail while on break with my partner that I'd been let go due to the restructuring. So much for no one losing their jobs, right? I hadn't been the only victim of this. I have my suspicions as to why the new hospitality director did these things, but I've no energy to throw around conspiracies. All I know is that I was shafted by both of these places and I'm tired of being broke. I'm applying, still going to fight, and... sigh.

tl;dr (why did you click the readmore?): i left a job due to discrimination and lost another due to company restructuring and i'm tired and sad and aaaaa.

304 notes · View notes

sissy-cheri-949-usa · 9 months

Text

FEMINIZATION STEP #1 - PANTY HIM

One of the best ways to feminize a man, is to make him wear “girl clothes”. Putting your sissy (CD/TV) in panties is a great way to begin the process of his transformation.

Start off easy with panties. I’m thinking a soft color like pink, white, lavender or yellow. You're initial timing is crucial! Start with a Friday/Saturday night at home, watching movies, etc.. Then as things move to the bedroom, give him a night to remember, while he is pantied. Then don't say anything for a few days. Let his psyche absorb it. Next weekend, repeat; etc.. Keep This up for several weeks/months. What you are doing is IMPRINTING his psyche. He will associate the panties, to the great nights with you.

As for style of panties, anything works, but I would recommend something really sissy like full cut. You want as mush silk/satin touching his skin as possible. When we get to man-scaping, this will become apparent what we are trying to do. Make sure to try different styles initially, so he can experience things, full-cut, etc. Keep him guessing, and anticipating.

Later, we will get to his second pair of panties. Sissy's should always wear 2 pair of panties (to be explained later). But a nice thong or G-string feel perfect when he is plugged. A first pair can be used to "contain" (granny panties), with a second ultra-frilly pair on top. Also, first pair can have "rear-access" hole, for Mistress, while second pair are at sissy's ankles, etc.. Lots of scenarios.

After he has become used to being pantied on the weekends, we move to weekdays, under his male clothes. Start slow, maybe 1 day per week. Start with Fridays, as to build anticipation for the weekend. Then the weekend can include ultra-feminine panties like super, frilly, little girl panties. It's hard to be "manly" when wearing Princess panties !!!

When you have him wearing panties like a good boy, s/he’ll be so much more submissive and willing to please! When alone at home, make sure they are super frilly !!!

Wearing panties daily is a must for a sissy so s/he better get used to the feel and look of them!

P.S. one great idea is to have him match the color of his chastity cage with his panties. For example, if he is wearing a pink cage, have him wear pink panties as well!

For work, it doesn't matter if he still wears boxers over his panties. You just want him pantied, and not to be exposed. This is YOUR SECRET. This builds intimacy and trust in your relationship.

If you found this article helpful please reblog. There are many Cross-Dressers & their Wives who need to know. Comments are welcome; please be nice, so I can learn to improve.

All Feminization Steps Here

#sissycheri #crossdressing articles #feminized husband #female led relationship #sissy domination #sissifyme #pantied

993 notes · View notes

weird-is-life · 6 months

Note

hi lovely! a p vague request if you’re up for it!! remus x fem!/gn! reader fluff<3 he’s just painfully pining for her, getting a bit jealous when she’s hit on by other guys. they’re hanging out one night and it gets cold, so he gives her his jacket thinking the jacket could not look better on anyone else!

take the fic wherever you want babes! i’m just obsessed w your writing & the idea of lupin pining

Hii lovely, ty you so much for this cute request and I'm so so glad you enjoy my writing🥹🥹🥹. Warnings: fluff, use of y/n and pet names, mentions of pub,(0.8k)

It's Friday night, so of course the pub is stuffed with people. But Remus wasn't expecting, that you'd be getting hit on by so many guys, even if the pub is overcrowded.

He thinks, that if one more guy comes up to you and invites you for a drink, he won't be able to stop himself from beating him up.

To your credit tho, you've sent the guys running to the other side of the pub with your rejections. You are not even slightest bit interested in anybody, other than Remus.

The cheeky smirks, that Sirius and James keep sending his way aren't helping one bit either. They obviously know of Remus's crush on you and they keep pulling his leg about not making a move on you yet.

"You okay?" you nudge him with your elbow. Another thing that isn't helping with his intense feelings for you right now, is that you've been sitting next to him the whole night.

He breaks out of his thoughts and smiles at you, " of course. I'm perfect," he lies, but he can't tell you the truth. He's not ready for a rejection from you, he doesn't think he'll ever be ready for it.

"Really?"

"Yes, really. I'm okay, I promise," he's not, but he doesn't tell you that. You seem happy with his answer, because you smile at him sweetly as you always do.

"Okay, good. I just wanted to make sure, before I left," you say as you start to gather your things to leave.

"You're leaving?" Remus asks quickly, making a poor job of masking his disappointment.

"Yeah, I'm sorry, I'd love to stay, but I have to get up early tomorrow," you say very apologetic.

"Don't be," he replies and adds without thinking, " I'll go with you. I'm feeling tired, too."

It's not exactly a lie, he feels a bit tired, but also he wants to spend some more time with you and more importantly, he doesn't want you to go home alone.

"Oh, okay." You don't question it and just nod. You say your goodbyes to everyone and leave. The boys wink teasingly at him to which Remus only rolls his eyes.

You walk side by side outside and Remus is quick to a hail a taxi for you two. In the meantime, you start to get cold. You didnt't realise, when you were dressing up, how much the temperature lowers after it gets dark in the autumn.

Finally, Remus manages to get a taxi and you eagerly get inside of it, thinking the heat is on, but you're wrong. The driver doesn't seem to mind the cold, because inside the taxi, the temperature is the same as outside.

Remus, attentive as always, notices you shivering.

"Here," he shrugs off his jacket and puts in around your shoulders, before you can even protest.

"Rem, thank you, but are you sure, you won't mind? I don't want you to be cold, too," you frown at him worriedly.

"I'm not cold, don't worry, dove. Just keep it," he smiles warmly at you, making the butterflies in your stomach go crazy. And fuck, the pet name almost makes you pass out.

The sight of you in his jacket is doing no good for Remus either, he feels like he's been hit by a hammer over and over again, making him dizzy.

"Besides, you might as well keep it. It looks like hundred times better on you," he bravely compliments you and your heart almost does a flip from it.

Your cheeks go embarrassingly red and you both stay quiet with little smiles on, until it's your time to get out of the car.

"Goodnight, Remus, thank you for seeing me off," you give him a quick hug and get out.

You are hallway up the stairs to your apartment, when you hear his voice.

"Y/N, please wait," he catches up to you, his hand gently grabs yours.

"What is it-" your questions gets interrupted by his lips on yours. The only thought on your mind is that how soft they feel, but from the surprise of it, you don't kiss him back.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry, y/n. I shouldn't have, I'm sorry-" he worriedly spills out and swiftly turns around to leave. You don't let him, it's your turn to grab his arm and kiss him.

Remus handles the shock of it better than you and kisses you back hard.

When you finally pull away, you are both smiling like some crazy idiots.

"I wanted do this for so long," he confesses, sheepishly. Running his hands through your hair, putting some loose strands away from your pretty face.

"Me, too," you say, " I guess, we are both stupidly oblivious, huh?"

You and Remus laugh," yeah, we are. But not anymore."

"Yeah?"

"Definitely. I like you, like a lot, if you haven't realised it by now," Remus whispers as he caresses your cheek softly.

"I like you too," you grin at him, very happy from the not so new information. It feels so good to finally be able to say it to him.

"Good." He says, smiling and leans in to kiss you warmly again.

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x you #remus lupin

425 notes · View notes

katiexpunk · 7 months

Text

Little Mouse | Pairing biker!Joel Miller X fem!Reader

Summary: Date night. Your favorite. You're dressed up and ready for a good time, only to find out that your sleazeball boyfriend is really just a jerk. Stood up and now alone in a bar on the bad side of town, you quickly come to realize you shouldn’t be there for more reasons than one. An unexpected savior to your shit night, a masked motorcycle rider quite literally saves your life, not caring whose blood was on his hands as a result. His only ask as a token of your appreciation? That you go for a ride with him. What could ever possibly happen? Rating: 18+ Minors DNI, like seriously, this shit is dark AF. I say this with love -- GTFO. Word count: 10K (yeah, we know, wtf) Warnings: Implied cheating (fuck her boyfriend) mentions of being stalked, suggestion of sexual assault/rape (not by Joel!), murder, blood, alcohol (reader is tipsy), switchblades, motorcycles, prey/predator complex, dom/sub, use of ‘little mouse, little one, baby’ also ‘sir and daddy.’ Fingering, female stimulation, dub-con, collaring, leather kink, mask kink, face-fucking, blowjob, praise kink, painful sex, choking, reader crawling on her knees, unprotected sex, brat taming, p in v, cowgirl, size kink, creampie, ownership kink, breeding kink. Authors Note: I AM SCREAMING. This was such a treat to work on with the lovely and talented @josephquinnswhore. This is my first collaborative fic, and the whole time Tay and I were just crying at how much we wish this version of Joel was real. This was truly a labor of love. Whether this is a hit or a flop, it doesn't matter to me, as I was lucky to get a sexy new friend out of it. Tay -- ilysm. Thanks for working on this with me. P.S. to my U.S. followers, you get this earlier than Saturday because it's already Saturday across the world, so enjoy your Friday night smut sesh.

The thudding noise of your fingers tapping against the hardwood of the bar makes for an easy outlet for your anxiety, although the woman next to you gives you an irritating look, obviously annoyed by the vibrations rolling their way down to her elbows resting on the bar top.

Twenty minutes. That’s how long you’ve been sitting at this miserable bar, the Cadillac Lounge.

It's quite a shit little dive – you had expected something fancier, but your boyfriend insists it’s ‘one of the best’, citing their famous hot wings and heavy pours. If it was truly one of the best, then shouldn’t he be here by now. Where the fuck is he?

In the 20 minutes that have passed since you got here, not only are you getting uncomfortable sitting at the bar by yourself, dodging glances from questionable patrons, but you've come to the conclusion that not only is he late, but he’s also a cheap bastard, and probably doesn’t think you deserve anything fancier.

Hell–you're dressed way too nice to be in a bar of this caliber in a sketchy part of town you’d never been to before. It's loud outside, and some people in the bar are too drunk—too rowdy, yet the man behind the bar stays silent as he passes you your second dirty martini. A marvel they even know how to make a martini. His silence makes you think it’s an all-common occurrence in this place; a pretty girl at the bar by herself, waiting for some shitbag guy to walk through the door.

The dress that clings to your body is one you bought specifically for this occasion; specifically for him – a mid-thigh-black leather dress – hoping he’d take you out somewhere nicer than a run-down bar where the stool legs were uneven and the television hardly caught reception. The soft material hugs every inch of you perfectly, and the spaghetti straps allow for plenty of cleavage to be seen. Your wallet aches as you remind yourself of the price of your black red-bottom heels; the effort you’d put into getting your nails manicured, and eyelashes done.

The floor is mismatched, an ugly shade of dark red wood that hasn't been cleaned in god knows how long; by the way your heels stick to the floor with each step, you can only assume it's been months, maybe even years. The pool tables in the back of the bar are dimly lit, and the floor surrounding them is a dark crème colored carpet, although there are plenty of stains, deep red and mustard yellow from wine and beer spilled in the ‘no drinking zone.’

A ping from your phone alerts you of a text message, and you stop your anxious tapping on the bar, almost dropping your phone onto the floor you were fumbling so fast to see what message you’d received. The woman two seats down finally adverts her irritated gaze from you.

Hey, not gonna make it tonight – I'm going to give Ashley a ride home from work, sorry to leave you hanging.

Ashley, as in his former ex-girlfriend, Ashley. He’s skipping out on date night to give his ex-girlfriend a ride home? What the actual fuck.

You blink stupidly, the longer you stare at the screen the blurrier the words become. Tears gather in your lash line, and the letters melt together to become large black shapes, eventually becoming unrecognizable, but it’s too late to forget them; they’re ingrained into the back of your eyelids, and when you finally close your eyes, a few tears fall from the outer corners.

What an asshole. You’re done. This is the last straw.

You begin to furiously tap out a response to him, leaving nothing but little click click click echos in the air as you do. Hot tears streaming down your face, no doubt ruining your mascara, you hit send on your response.

You know what – if you’re gonna give Ashley a ride home from work and leave me in this absolute shitshow of a bar, by myself, on OUR date night, you can fuck right off. We’re done.

Jerk.

You drop your phone back into your purse, and your fingers instinctively grip around the stem of the glass in front of you. You haven't even taken a sip from it until now; the vodka is sharp and bitter, but it slides down your throat with ease. You angrily slam the $15 cocktail, with a mission in your mind. Get drunk and forget your douchebag boyfriend, er, ex-boyfriend.

“Another,” you say, signaling to the oddly quiet bartender. Seriously, what’s with this guy? He eyes you down before finally nodding, and reaching out his hand to swipe the empty glass from in front of you.

As you sit there waiting, you realize that everything about you stands out, suggesting the way you obviously don't belong here – not in this bar, in this part of town, not even in this dress, the one that clings so perfectly to your frame, hugging your tits just right. You shift in the stool under you, beginning to feel uncomfortable, leather sticking to your now too-warm skin, sticky from your tears and the flush spreading from each martini you’d greedily consumed.

Mr. Silent I don’t say anything bartender places your third martini in front of you. You take a sip in silence, attempting to forget about the reality you are currently in.

Suddenly the low hum of the bar’s ambiance is interrupted by an unwelcome interloper. A man, reeking of booze, staffers toward you, his leering, yellow-twinged, bloodshot eyes filled with inappropriate lust as they shamelessly gaze at your breasts. “Hey there hic gorgeous,” he began, his breath a foul mix of whiskey and cigarettes, “looking awful sad over here, ya hic need some company?”

You stiffen, fingers lightly clenched around the stem of your martini glass, and shoot him a withering look.

This guy is a walking cliche of all things repulsive, like a welcome sign to the shitty part of town you were in. With him closer now, you’re able to really get a good look at him – his dirty and oversized clothes hanging loosely on his skeletal frame, a foul body odor clinging to the material, eyes hungry. The mostly gray and thinning hair that remains on his balding head indicates he’s too old to be interacting with someone your age, and his leathery and wrinkled skin clearly tells the story of a life spent mostly in the bottom of a bottle.

With his tone, you’re able to understand his intentions clearly. You take another sip of your drink and manage to squeak out a pathetic response, one that has no real bite or purpose, “sorry…’m not interested.” The man sits on the empty stool next to you anyway, leering eyes still painfully obviously drinking you in. You gaze at the bartender as if to say a little help here, but it’s useless, he’s not going to be of any more service than what’s required.

The full realization of the situation you’re in begins to wash over you – you need to leave. Now.

You slam the cocktail and let out a sputtering cough as the vodka begins to make its way back up your throat, now tinged with the flavor of bile. You grip the edge of the bar and your knuckles bleach white as you try and fend off the sudden wave of nausea that hits you like a freight truck.

Maybe drinking three martinis in the span of less than half an hour wasn’t your brightest idea.

The man drops his forearms to the bartop in front of you and begins to lean into your personal space, before spitting out “pretty thing like you, I bet you taste real fuckin hic good,” he says with a coy, husky laugh, making you shudder. Shivers shoot down your spine in alarm, the hairs on the back of your neck standing in full salute, your instinctual response warning you of the looming threat.

His eyes are dark and his pupils are unnaturally dilated, the thought makes your skin crawl as you note he’s not only a drunk, but also probably under the influence of some kind of drug, which uproots the fear of this interchange turning violent; a dark scenario where your rejection makes him angry and unpredictable.

The voice in your head shouts at you once more – LEAVE.

You stand and push your rickety, uneven stool backward, not even bothering to pay for your drinks before you grab your purse and storm out of the building, fighting to move your shaky legs fast as the bottom of your heels stick to the floor once more. You ignore the shouts of the barman telling you to close your tab, but you ignore them. Now he says something.

Once outside, the night air is brisk, but a welcome refreshment from the revolting encounter. You pause to take a look around at the world around you. The street practically screams danger to a young woman, let alone a drunk young woman. The dodgy streetlights that are functioning emit a hazy glow and don’t do much in the way of helping to light the path around you.

You walk around the corner and steal a glance behind you before you rummage through your purse, opening the golden clasp, it’s cool on your fingertips and the sensation only adds to your growing anxiety. Your fingers fumble around in panicked haste to find your phone. Finally. You sigh a breath of relief as your fingers grasp the cold metal. You jab at the screen, but quickly find that it’s dead. Shit, shit, shit. Your last sliver of safety snuffed out, leaving you alone – you hope – in the unforgiving night.

You think you might be sick as the wave of nausea returns. Your belly emits a low grumble and wait… fuck. No, you really are gonna be sick. Your pace begins to quicken as you scramble to find a place to throw up, away from the peering eyes of the residents who live on the wasteland streets that surround you.

You stumble your way into the back alley of the bar, and the world begins to spin. Your heart pounds in sync with your dizzying head – the sickening laughter from the creep at the bar still ringing in your ears, deafening you to the life surrounding you. The grimy brick walls of the alley offer you little comfort, the rough texture of them leaving small indents on your hand as you lean into the wall for support, and empty your stomach onto the asphalt beneath you. You cough at the secondary burn of the alcohol that now sears your throat for a second time tonight.

Although your stomach is empty, you continue to dry heave, bent over at your waist and staring at the rocks beneath you, when you hear the thud of loud footsteps behind you. Before you can register what’s happening, a grotesque shadow looms over you, and his smell hits you.

Oh no.

“Came out here to make it easy hic f’me, didn’t you, princess,” he snarls. “You knew what you were doin’, wearin’ this leather piece, didn’t ya babydoll?” He lurches out to grab you, but before he can, another figure materializes out of the darkness. His silhouette was hard and sharp against the pale light illuminating the alley, an unlikely savior in this hellish scene. Before you can even blink, he has the creep pinned up against the wall, his large forearm pressing against his throat. “You leave this nice girl alone, yeah?” he says, voice dark and menacing. He presses harder against the man's throat, “or I’ll make you fuckin’ regret it,” he threatens. Your savior spoke evenly, although there was an obvious underlying tone of threat muffled behind the black motorcycle helmet he wore.

“Chill out, man…was jus trying to have a good ti–” before he can even finish the thought consisting of violating you, your savior draws his head back and smashes it forward, the helmet connecting with a sickening crack against the creep's nose. A sharp, visceral sound reverbs through the alley, catching the attention of a few passers-by. They pause to look at what’s happening, but quickly keep moving, knowing better than to intervene. The now bloody man lets out a startled yelp, his hands reaching up instinctively to grab his now very broken nose.

“What’d you just fuckin’ say t’me?” Your savior grumbles. “You do this often, huh? Come out here into back alleys, whip out your limp little cock, and try and show pretty ladies a good time,” he huffs.

“I’ll show you a good time,” he says, snaking his free hand into his back pocket. There came a click, a sound as sharp and quick as a viper's bite, and the creep audibly whimpers, knowing what made it. There it was– a switchblade.

The creep continues to gravel with the man holding him captive in his strong grasp, “listen, man, I was just messin’ around…I swear! I’ll leave her alone, you can have her, fuck, please just let me go! I promi–” before he can finish the sentence, the silver blade was already plunged up into his ribs. The sound of the gurgling man choking on his own blood catches your attention, a result of your savior's expert maneuver with the blade. Still holding the man flush against the wall with his broad upper body, he uses his free hand to open the visor of his helmet. Eyes glaring into the man’s now, he pushes the blade in deeper as says, “Oh, I will,” and a masked grin washes across his face as the crimson red blood begins to pour out onto his gloves and the ground below; your savior moving his feet as not to dirty his boots.

With a swift movement, he releases the blade, and you watch in shock as the man thuds to the floor, sticky red blood stains his shirt and begins to pool on the pavement below, body limp, eyes glued open like he never saw it coming.

Is this really fucking happening right now, you think to yourself, rationalizing you’re probably hallucinating or something.

You watch as the man reaches a gloved hand to pull his visor, a smear of blood left behind as he pulls it down, hiding what little identity he had revealed to the creep. He turns his frame to face you and begins to stride forward, little drops of crimson falling from his gloves onto the floor by his sides as he does.

Eyes wide open like a deer about to be hit by a truck, you stare at him – your savior? You doubt it.

He just murdered a man in cold blood and told him he would have you. Surely that must mean you were going to succumb to the same fate or worse. Your fight or flight response kicks in, deciding on flight, and you begin to quickly back away from the man and the scene that just unfolded in front of you like a fucking horror film.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he says, narrowing the gap between your bodies.

You don’t respond as you continue your trek backward, gait unsteady as you try and keep your heels and ankles steady in your six-inch stilettos. Scared, you step back until your body unexpectedly meets the cool, hard metal of a motorcycle, causing you to let out a small squeak.

His strides are large and it’s not long before he has you trapped against his body and the motorbike; leaving you nowhere to run.

“Cat got your tongue, little mouse?” The man’s question is rhetorical and humorous. His large figure looks over you, a leather jacket clings to his broad shoulders, preventing you from looking anywhere but him.

You sure feel like a little mouse – small and defenseless. He tilts his head, looking down at you curiously as if you were the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.

And you are.

“You – you – killed that man,” your heart was in your throat as you spoke, unsure if your whispered accusation traveled the short distance to his ears.

“Yeah, little mouse, I did. Creep like that – trust me, he had it coming,” he says, voice muffled but sure.

His large palm begins to rise to your line of sight, and your heart sinks to your stomach as you stare at the blood now ever so close to your face. He pauses before he drops most of the bloody fingers into his fist, leaving but one clean finger out as if to point to something. He drags it over your cheek, down the razor edge of your jaw, and uses it to tilt your chin up to face him.

“You know, I probably saved your life – really should be thankin’ me,” he says, presumably gazing back at you, face still hidden from view by the helmet.

“And you can start by comin' for a ride."

You gasp.

He’s got to be fucking joking.

“I promise, you’re safe with me, alright?” He says, voice soft this time.

Right. Safe with the dude who just murdered another dude in the alley behind some sleazeball bar.

You can tell his words aren't a request.

Everything about his demeanor is commanding.

He demands attention.

Your attention.

Perhaps it was the heartache or the way he just saved your life, maybe even the three martinis you’d smashed in a short duration of time, your rational thoughts impaired from the alcohol content flowing through your blood, you internally agree to his demands. And for some unfathomable reason you can’t comprehend, his voice melts you like butter, his attention making you feel special.

A pang of arousal shoots through you.

“Okay…” you say, voice sweet like honey, but hesitant. If you’d kept him waiting long, he doesn’t mention it.

“Good girl,” he says, nodding to the back of the bike.

He knew you were an obedient one. He could tell. He reads your emotions like braille, it is as if he can feel every single thought running through your brain.

You need a protector, a savior, someone to tell you what to do and care for you. Someone who would do anything for you. You need him.

His hands hover over your waist, guiding you to the back of the bike, a safeguard, he would catch you if you slipped. As if he would ever let you fall.

You swing your leg over the back of the seat, sending your already tight dress higher up onto your hips as you do. The motorcycle's leather seat is cold against your inner thighs, a welcomed reprieve from the growing heat there. His hungry eyes watch as you adjust yourself, slowly gazing at the bareness of your legs, now prickled with small goosebumps in anticipation and response to the chill in the air. “Here little mouse, take this,” he says, wiping the bloody gloves onto his tight-fitting denim jeans before taking off his leather jacket and handing it to you, revealing a white mesh tank top that clings to his sun-kissed skin. You can’t help but notice that his shoulders are littered with freckles, all over his toned arms and shoulders, and the back of his neck. You find that small detail about such a harsh man a little endearing.

“Leather on leather,” he says, pausing to eye you up and down, “looks good on you,” he finishes. He places his hand on your bare thigh, his touch causing you to hold your breath, making sure you’re stable before he too mounts the bike.

“Hold on to me real tight,” he commands. You follow his instructions, your arms wrapping firmly around his waist, your fingers coming to a clasp as you scoot forward, your breasts pressed firmly against his warm and inviting back.

“Atta girl,” he praises.

Fuck. His words go straight to your already aroused core.

He couldn’t be sure if it was a button from the jacket pressing against him, or your nipples, but he decided it was the latter considering how cold you’d been moments beforehand.

The thought causes his cock to stir in his jeans. His mind can’t help but wonder, with your soft hands all over his toned body, rousing deep and vulgar thoughts in his head.

Your sweet little palms, what would they feel like wrapped around his—

He pushes the thought down, adjusts himself slightly, and turns to look over his shoulder at you as the bike begins to rumble to life. He jabs the kickstands with his heel and faces forward once more, palms firmly grabbing the clutch and throttle on the handlebars.

The loud sound of the engine and the rhythmic vibration it gives stimulate your now aching clit. The only barrier between your sopping cunt and the bike was the sheer lace panties that did nothing to stop your slick from leaking onto his leather seat.

With your body glued to his, you both tear through the inky black of the night. It was apparent that this side of town not only lacks security, but safety too, the buildings are all run down and cars seem to be left on cinder blocks, being stripped down for parts and left to rust. For the first time tonight, you’re grateful you’re not alone – grateful to be with him.

It seems the government had also neglected the quality of the roads, loose gravel flings out of the crevices of the back tire of the motorbike, and you grasp on tight to avoid the giant potholes that have now become a major problem on this one street. Without much warning, although you could have predicted it would happen, the bike jerked violently beneath you, the rear tire hitting a pothole with an unforgiving thud.

You gasp and your grip around his waist loosens in surprise. The sudden jolt sends your hand sliding down, and before you can correct it, your fingers brush against his already painfully stiff cock. He freezes in response. The feel of his hard bulge causes you’re already sticky folds to dampen further. You grazed the area for less than a few seconds, eventually finding your common sense and snatching your hand back up to grab your wrist, but the tension in his body tells you he felt you do it. That he liked it. You did, too.

You have no idea where he’s taking you, and though the streets of the unfamiliar town were a labyrinth to you, he seemed to navigate them with ease. Not before after, the bike comes to a slow as he pulls up to a nondescript warehouse.

Once inside, you take in the smudge and the grime of the shop. There was a surprising order to the chaos around you. The walls, washed with a pea-like hue of green, were the perfect backdrop for the display of tools in every size and shape imaginable, arranged perfectly above the wooden workbench. The air stank of oil, sawdust, and metal, but there was a certain comfort to it, a testament to the hours of sweat and hard work spilled within its confines.

With the two wheels of the bike are now stationary beneath you, he kills the engine. He swings his leg off to stand at the side of the bike. He offers his hand to steady you as you get off yourself, leaving a little wet spot on the seat from your slick as you do.

You know you’re aroused, but you don’t seem to notice just how much, but he sure does, eyes glued to the mark of you. The sight makes him shift and he adjusts himself to accommodate for the shrinking amount of space.

Taking in the surroundings, you do a tiny circle, before stopping facing him.

“Why – why, am I here?” you cautiously ask, not sure if you want the real answer.

“To say thank you t’me, properly, little mouse,” he rasps, voice dripping with suggestion.

You wonder what it means to thank him properly. A surge of desire courses through you like a bolt of lightning, your body responding with intensity at the thought.

He takes a step forward, and his overwhelming presence engulfs you, bringing with it the scent of musk, twinged with sweat and the sickly sweet copper smell of the blood left on his hands.

It’s absolutely intoxicating.

In your haze, your fingers reach out to touch the cool plastic of the black tinted helmet visor, curiosity gnawing at you for just a peek of the man that had you enthralled; you hadn’t even seen his face and yet you were completely dripping for him.

Before you could catch a peek, his fingers gripped your hand tightly in warning. He tilts his head to the side as if you’d really just tried that.

“What do ya think you’re doin’, little mouse?” The warning in his voice only made the need between your thighs that much stronger.

“I—I just wanted to...” you whine pathetically, trailing off as your mind begins to fill with obscene thoughts, rendering you unable to finish even a single sentence.

Although you can't directly see his face, you can feel his harsh stare burning you to your core. His firm grip around your wrist causes your nipples to harden in response to the touch. Everything in your vision blurs suddenly, the room nothing more but a mere haze, you almost don’t feel the right grip on your hips as he maneuvers your body, pushing your chest over his bike. A small noise of discomfort leaves your lips as the fuel cap of the bike digs into your breastbone. It hurts, but you don’t complain, not wanting this to end before it’s begun.

With his hard cock now pressed firmly against your ass, one hand grips your waist and the other holds the back of your neck. His fingers are cool and they send a shiver down your spine at his touch, his grip tightens on the back of your neck, holding you in place – trapped.

He hadn’t ever let a woman touch his bike, let alone ride with him; you should be grateful.

He was doing something for you.

“You’ll take what I give you, little mouse, not a sliver more, got it?” He growls.

You mewl under him; your non-verbal response only adds to your lack of cooperation, in his eyes, you were challenging him to make you submit to him.

He leans down, chest now flush with the curve of your back. You don’t dare to look back at him, feeling your legs tremble as he pushes his hard erection further into the exposed skin of your ass. Your leather dress had ridden right up, making for easy access, which his thick fingers happily take advantage of as they trace the thin lace of your panties.

He can hardly pry his eyes away from the now-drying stain your slick had left on his seat, and now here you were; pressed under him and fucking soaking for him.

“Now listen here, little mouse. When I speak, I expect you to answer me, or this all stops. Got it?” he says.

You tremble at his words and pout as he halts the small glide of his fingers along the lace between your folds. Caught up in the sensation, you don’t respond quickly enough.

“Answer me,” he commands while pulling his hand away and landing a swat over your pussy, the sensation on your clit sends a little shock through your body.

Senses returning to your head now, you nod frantically, eyes widening as you stutter, “Y-yes, sir. I understand.”

Seemingly satisfied with your response, his fingers resume their tortuous motion of gliding over your still-clothed folds, only taking a moment to recover from the moment you called him sir. It serves a bigger purpose, a large part to play in your dynamic. He rests his helmet on your shoulder and lets out a husky sigh, his own need beginning to catch up with him.

“How badly do you want it, little mouse?” He asks, a hint of challenge in his voice, hoping to get a ride out of you, and frustrate you further.

“Fuck–ppp, please touch me…I’ll be good, I promise, I’ll do whatever you say,” you say, realizing your begging is no better than the creeps back in the alley.

Satisfied with your pleading, he decides to take mercy on you, finally soothing the gnawing, aching need inside you. He traces his thick finger over the crease between your folds before he hooks the edge, and pushes the soiled fabric to the side. Your cunt has a visible sheen from the slick that’s spilled over from all of his teasing; a warm invitation for his fingers, your inviting hole sucks two of them in and clenches around him.

“So wet for me already, little mouse, fuck–,” he trails off. You moan in response, knowing he’ll expect an answer to his comment. He grins as he skillfully curls his fingers inside you to meet the spongey soft texture of your g-spot. He fucks his fingers in and out of you, every prod stretching you, getting you ready for him.

He can feel you crawling towards the cliff of your orgasm, but he's gonna take his time with you.

He knows you want to cum, that's obvious, and god does he want to know what you look like when you do, to feel it, to be the reason; but still, he continues to tease and let it build. Your face twists, your jaw goes slack, and your eyes close and it all but screams I’m close, make me come, make me come.

“Stop thinkin’ so damn loud,” he gruff voice circulates inside your head and descends down to your core, sending you spiraling.

Your fingers struggle to find purchase on anything as he continues to drive you closer and closer to your release, fingers prodding in and out, only leaving periodically to circle your clit before going back to their home inside you. The line between pain and pleasure has blurred; being bent over the bike is starting to get uncomfortable, and your neck is starting to ache from his hard grip that keeps you from slouching over. The blood is beginning to rush to your head, the lack of circulating air in the building and your lust cause your skin to heat, and small beads of sweat begin to form on your chest and forehead.

You're so, so close. When was he going to put a stop to this?

As if to read your mind once more, he says, “I know, baby. Doing so good. Concentrate on me,” his words bring you back to your surroundings, drawing you away from your demented brain's imprisonment of unease.

Your legs tremble against his groin, and the sweet moans that leave your lips echo through the workshop. You think he might, but he doesn’t tell you to shut up, he doesn’t cover your mouth. The pretty little noises coming from your throat only urge him to ram his fingers into you at a quicker pace, as if it were his personal mission to make you finally come.

Your mind goes foggy as your whole body stiffens. Your fingers find a tight grip on the leather seat of the bike and mindlessly, you dig your nails into the material, creating several crescent moon-shaped marks into the leather as you do. He rides out your orgasm with you and doesn’t stop until you totally soften under him, legs weak and shaking from overstimulation and pain from the position you’re in.

Now satisfied, you catch a glimpse of your handiwork on the seat. The once perfect material was now marked by your desperation.

“Tsk, tsk, little mouse – markin’ up my bike left and right tonight,” he says, voice firm, “I ‘otta punish you for that,” he scolds.

It was already too much, the position he had you in, his taunting and tormenting. What would a punishment look like? you wonder.

“‘M sorry, shit, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to,” you sputter, head still dizzy from your release.

Still inside you, he pushes his fingers aggressively deeper into your hole and he holds them there. The noise is obscene; the squelching of his fingers pushing into you, slick dripping down your legs, coating his fingers. It only made him hungry for more. Beneath the helmet, he licks his lips, clenching his teeth as his eyes roll into the back of his head. What he wouldn’t do for a taste of you.

“You're gonna be,” he says. The emphasis on his promise he makes you tremble, anticipation eating you from the inside out.

“Gonna come for me again, little mouse,” he orders.

Fuck. No. “I–I can’t, it’s too much, I’m too sensitive, and my, fuck, my legs hurt like this,” you say.

Your words fall on deaf ears, as he ignores your pleading. You were going to come again, and he was going to make sure of that.

He inserts a third finger and continues to fuck into you. His thumb reaches out to your clit, the small amount of pressure has you lurch forward with a yelp, the nub already extremely sensitive from your first release. The hand that’s gripped the back of your neck jerks backward harshly, forcing you back into his body. He wouldn’t allow you to do that, try to escape him.

Holding you into his chest, he reaches his free hand around and finds your clit once more. His fingers move antagonizing slowly as he makes soft circles around it, his pace decreasing, the overstimulation going with it. Your pain begins to flourish into something softer, and he once again has you crawling the stairs to your climax. You fight the temptation to jerk your hips, to fuck yourself stupid on his thick fingers, and make yourself come all over his already, soaked and pruned fingers. The added texture to his fingers adds to the sensations you’re experiencing.

“Bein’ such a good girl, there you go,” he sets a stable pace, murmuring to you, rubbing sweet circles onto your clit, and resuming fucking his fingers into you, “gonna give my mouse what she needs.”

“P-please let me come,” the plea leaves your desperate lips like a need, a key factor to your survival, like if you didn’t come again you were sure to die. The coil inside of your lower stomach winds once more, and your legs continue to shake, the only thing keeping you upright was the strength of his arms and his fingers unraveling you. Each swipe of his thumb on your clit is calculated, like he’s figured your body out already. He knows you’re close, the way you’re trembling and babbling senselessly, the way your hole clenches around his fingers, contracting to tighten around him to keep him inside.

“You can come, little mouse – come for me, baby, soak my fingers,” he says.

You obey and feel the taste of your sweet release rush through you like you were nothing but a pool of gas ignited with a flame. Your knees buckle, and he holds you tight to his chest. His sticky fingers leave your hole and away from your swollen clit.

“Such a good girl,” he praises in your ear. You revel in it, letting his words soak deep into you to your bones. He moves his slick-coated fingers up to your lips, “Now clean ‘em for me,” he commands, once again leaving no room for there to be a question about what he wants. You do as he orders. He presses his fingers into your inviting mouth, and you lap at your release and suck him dry.

He doesn’t give you but a minute to recover to catch your breath, now satisfied with your cleaning job, before he grabs a fistful of hair to spin you around, gently, but assertively. Your eyes drop down to his waist, and you see his hand on his leather belt. He begins to unbuckle it, the metal making a small clank as he releases its clasp, and yanks it off, leaving a whip sound in its wake.

You watch in anticipation as he uses both hands to make a small loop in the belt. You swallow your anticipation as you realize what he’s doing. It’s not long before he has it perfectly sized to accommodate your head, and he slips it onto your crown, and begins to lower it around your neck. Once there he secures it tightly, leaving enough room for you to breathe, but tight enough to feel its presence before tugging at the makeshift collar and deeming it satisfactory.

“Get on your knees, little mouse, he gruffs. “ Told you I’d punish ya for what you did to my bike,” he continues, voice lusty and low.

You pause, slightly dumbstruck.

Is he serious?

The little voice that gnawed at you to leave the bar earlier in the night comes back in full force and tells you that he most definitely was and that you’d be wise to listen.

You drop to the cold cement floor, knees meeting the harsh ground coated with little flecks of sawdust and grease. Your perky tits were practically spilling out of your leather dress at this point. You don’t care. You don’t even care about the bruises that were now forming from the position you were in; you want to be a good girl, give him what he wants – impress him. You were ready to worship at the altar of the man who had saved your life.

He watches you and palms at his hard cock before turning on his heels to walk away.

The fuck. Where’s he going?

He walks over to the side of the shop. This side was more empty than the primary workspace, but primarily occupied by a file cabinet in the corner and an aging bed, presumably only used for mid-workday naps. There’s an old rusted heater next to the bed, too close to the wall for comfort, you wonder how many cold late evenings this man had spent in this workshop, every little detail gave you some insight into his life, it felt familiar. Like you know him, that he was just an ordinary man; although you know he was far more intriguing.

He pauses by the grimy mattress. His fingers fumble for the button and zipper of his jeans, and he slowly undoes them, letting them fall to the floor, finally releasing the giant cock that was restrained behind the denim fabric. He takes himself in hand, tilts his head down, and spits for lubrication.

“Crawl to me, little mouse,” he says, dark gaze fixed on yours, “come get this cock,” he adds, stroking his length up and down, letting his weight lean onto the back wall of the shop as he gawks.

Crawl to him.

The words pierce you like a bullet, tearing through your flesh until you have no choice but to tend to the wound to stop the bleeding. You're his little pet, and you’ll do anything to make him happy.

You tilt forward, placing both palms on the ground so you’re on all fours. Eyes transfixed on him, and god, his cock, you begin to move, slowly crawling the distance of the shop. The already barely secured fullness of your tits gives way with the change in angle, allowing them to spill completely out of your dress. The sensation of the cold ground under your hands and knees, the cool air drying the stickiness on your inner thighs, and the thickness of the makeshift collar on your throat spur you on. You begin to crawl faster, needing to get to him sooner, needing to taste him.

Once in front of him, he pushes himself off the wall and comes to stand directly in front of you. He continues to stroke at his cock, and you salivate at the sight of his angry red tip weeping beads of pre-cum, veins boldening from the blood rushing through him. You want so badly to touch him, but you wait for him to give you the okay to do so, your palms patiently resting on your knees.

“You want this, little mouse,” he asks, already knowing the answer to his own question. “It’s all yours, come get it, baby,” he says, giving a nod of permission.

You reach up to take the weight of his heavy cock in your hands, and you admire the way your fingers barely touch. You stroke his length a few times, mouth watering at how silky soft his skin feels and the warmth it exudes. You look up at him from under your lashes and playfully dart your tongue out. You flatten it and lick a teasing stripe up to the tip of him, maintaining his gaze as you do.

“If you know what’s good for ya, little mouse, you won’t fucking tease me,” he says, the words still bite, but you can tell he’s losing his resolve. As much as he wants to pretend he’s in control, you’re the one with all the cards.

You slide the tip of him into your waiting mouth, wrapping your lips around, feeling a slight sting in the corners as they stretch to accommodate him. You stay shallow on his length at first, working up to wet him with your spit. After a moment, you feel confident you have enough lubricant to fully take him.

You begin to pick up your pace, allowing his cock to glide down your throat, kissing the back of it as you bob up and down. He lets out a satisfied sound, and you hum in response, savoring the taste of salt and musk that dance over your tastebuds.

Using the makeshift collar as leverage, he wraps the free material around his fist and pulls it taught, holding you with his cock stuffed down your windpipe. Your eyes begin to water, it’s so much, but you stay put. Spit begins to pool at the corners of your mouth, long dribbles of it spilling out over your lips and down your chin to your chest.

“Fuck, little mouse – so good, baby. Being such a good hole for me,” he praises.

His words encourage you to open wider, letting your jaw relax as you do. He pulls the leather strap tighter until you feel him deep in the back of your throat, your lips wrapped obscenely around the base of him, nose flush against his skin. He’s so deep you can hardly breathe. He holds you there a moment longer until you begin to tear up.

He slightly retreats, allowing you to catch your breath, your lips resting just around the tip of his girth. You look up at him, your cheeks flushed and mascara smudged, and he smirks. He was fucking wrecking you, and he loves every second of it.

He allows you a second to catch your breath, before he once again pulls at the belt, sending you right back down to the base of him. He lets out a deep, guttural groan in response. He could feel your heartbeat on the tip of him this deep, and it was almost too much. He pulls back and fully retreats out of you this time, bringing with him strings of saliva that fall onto you pristine but red-marked skin.

“Up,” he says, finally allowing you the opportunity to find relief from the cement that turned your knees and shins cherry red. You do as he says, pausing momentarily to brush the debris from your flesh before looking up at him. He pauses momentarily to admire you before bringing both hands up to undo the buckle of the belt, releasing you from the collar.

As you look up at him, you can’t help but feel distaste towards the helmet, wishing you could just see the man behind it. You had given yourself to him completely, submitting to this dangerous and exuberant man. Why wouldn’t he show his face? You whine loudly in response to his touch on your sensitive neck, the belt had left a thick plum-colored mark ingrained into your pretty skin, your entire body was sore from the events of the night and he hadn’t even fucked you yet.

Through his pleasure, his moans and raspy breaths of exhale, each and every opportunity for you to hear him have been tainted, unfairly muffled by the thick plastic. The noises he makes are primal, deep, something you crave more of; he’d been giving you so much tonight, made you cum hard more than once, and fucked your throat raw, but it isn’t enough; you want more of him, all of him.

You hadn’t been bashful the entire night, but suddenly you aren't confident enough to verbally ask him; multiple attempts have already been made to try and convince him to take it off, which he has quite harshly rejected.

He seems to sense your shift in energy, the anxiety radiating off of you like a pungent smell. His fingers grip your chin, curling them underneath to make you look up at him. Your mind flashes back to when it did it earlier in the night, only this time his hand wasn’t covered in blood. You suppose you should have felt some sort of relief at that, but your unease only worsens.

His masked figure continues to glare down at you, looking as if he might offer something sweet in his words, but he doesn’t; instead, he simply says, “ready for a different type of ride, little mouse?”

His words go straight to your already wet and stretched cunt. He’s finally going to fuck you.

He puts one knee onto the mattress, causing the springs of the frame holding it to scream out, the squeak an alarm that the sheer weight of them might be too much for their rusty coils to handle.

He pulls you flush against his chest and reaches his arms behind you to unzip your dress, and you're grateful, the leather fabric had pooled at your hips at this point and you were starting to sweat under the heavy folds. You sink into the warmth of him, the side of your face flush with the cool plastic of the helmet. As he works to release you from your cloth prison, the dress you were once so excited to put on, your gaze drops to the back of his neck, and you notice a patch of sweaty salt and pepper curls under the bottom edge of the helmet. You reach your arms up around him and intertwine your fingers around the locks. You had thought maybe he was older, but seeing the greying hair was the confirmation you needed.

With him now so close, you take in the opportunity to smell him, and fuck it was absolutely invigorating – like fresh coffee in the morning, the smoke from a campfire, and wait…is that, patchouli? Fucking patchouli? Because of course, your masked, murderous savior would smell like patchouli. You take a deep inhale through your nose, and hold it at the top, as if to commit his scent to memory.

He finishes with the dress, and you step out of it, also deciding to ditch the scrap of panties that no longer serve their intended purpose. Now bare, you stand in front of him innocently. You were nervous, unable to see his expression, unsure if he likes what he sees.

It doesn’t take much for him to give you the confirmation you need that he in fact, does, his rock-hard cock practically staring at you, begging for something to bury into. His rough and calloused palm traces over your arm, leaving goosebumps as it trails down. He latches onto your wrist, pausing to gently trace the blue veins and feel your pulse. His gentleness causes you to melt.

He takes a seat on the mattress, pulling you with him.

For the entire evening, your body had been riding the line between pain and pleasure, and it had never been more blurred than right now. Your knees are shaking as they find the broken springs under the grimy mattress.

It's almost too much, your knees ache with bruises forming on them from their assault on the cement. Straddling his hips, he reaches between your bodies to position himself at the entrance of your wet and waiting hole. You sink down onto his length halfway, eyes falling shut as you do.

Fuck – he’s big. Almost too big.

His hard cock fills you so good; and he gives you a second to adjust, frozen in pleasure for a moment when he finally reaches the hilt of you, the tip of his cock nudges in a painful pinch. For a moment he’s panting and just holding you on top of him, hands tightening around the delicious flesh of your hips. He’s just using you to keep his cock warm until he can catch his breath. He can tell by your incessant squirming that you’ve never had something so big stuffed inside of your small frame, and he was here to change that; fill you up how you deserve to be.

“Shit, baby – you’re a tight one, aint’cha,” he says, groaning breathlessly.

You begin to find your pace on him, rolling your hips into his as you find a rhythm, gliding effortlessly over his thickness with the help of his praise, his filthy words encouraging you to fuck him harder. His hands are still firm on your hips, leaving little bruises at the fingertips, and he assists your rolls back and forth as you grind your clit against the thick black hair at the base of him, teasing your swollen clit with each move as you do.

“I’m going to ruin you, little mouse, fuck you so good all you’ll ever think about is me. All you’ll ever feel is me.” His claim is arrogant, but rightfully so, the way he’s filling you to your ribs was something that couldn’t ever be competed with.

He knows it, and you know it. You are doomed to be a prisoner to an approach to sex you’d never experienced. Addicted to every touch.

The possessive nature of this man wouldn’t ever be matched with anyone else.

They would all fall short.

He had broken you to need him.

His hands roughly grasp at your breasts, pinching your nipples and rolling them between his fingers, and an airy moan leaves your lips as he watches them bounce, he gives them a harsh slap, earning a yelp from your lips as the sensation. The sting lingers and the red mark it creates is more proof of what this man’s doing to you; creating evidence that you’d remember long after he was gone, the ghost of the touch you’d feel one night in the future when you needed someone, no one would ever compare. He was leaving his mark on you.

His calloused fingers are thick, wrapping around your neck, applying a small amount of pressure to the side of your neck along your pulse point, until your vision goes a little fuzzy and you subsequently relax into his hands with the notion.

With as much as he's taking you—he curses under his breath when you let out a whimper of pleasure, holding the position, slipping his thumb into your mouth which you greedily sucked on, he feels the hum of a muffled moan.

“Such a good girl,” he moans, “squeezing my cock so fuckin’ tight, little mouse. This pussy was fucking made f’me,” he praises, his words practically dragging you over the edge, and you cream all over his cock as he continues to relentless thurst upwards inside of you, practically touching your lungs.

Your slick makes it easy for him to fuck into you right to the hilt, burying himself into the most sacred part of yourself. Greedily, you clench down onto him, sucking him back in when he tries to retract from your hole. In your delirium you swear you can feel him in your stomach, you’d never had someone so fucking deep inside of you before. Wet mewls escape your lips as you feel him drag his cock in and out of you, reaching places no other man had ever been. With the way your cunt greedily swallows his cock, he starts to feel a sense of infatuation, he would do anything to keep you.

“This pussy isn't goin’ to take too nicely to another cock, will she, little one? She likes me too much,” he says, but you find it hard to concentrate on words when there are so many things stimulating you – his cock, his hand around the column of your throat, the growing need budding in your clit, your intense desire to fucking look at his face.

Before you can register what’s happening, loud moans leave your lips, when they do the saliva that had accumulated inside of your mouth falls, dripping down onto the visor of his helmet. A gruff moan leaves his lips, one of shock and pleasure, seeing you drool all over him on his cock was a sight that spurred him on.

“Fuckin’ you so good you can’t even think properly, can you little mouse? S’alright, just let daddy make you feel good.”

Daddy.

You want so badly to cum.

But there’s something holding you back.

You need to see him. It's no longer a question or a curiosity. It's a non-negotiable.

“Shi–-shit, I’m so close, ugh I need to see your face,” you say, tears welling up in your eyes, “Please let me look at you while I cum on your cock,” you beg.

He ignores the request, your hips still grinding onto him, until you pout and beg once more, “Daddy, please!”

He grips down tight onto your hips, urging you to come to a slow, and eventually a full stop. You feel his cock twitch inside of you. He releases his grip and reaches up to place both hands on the helmet – yes, yes, yes, take it off – he pauses with his palms on the sides, before using the strength of his arms to take the helmet completely off.

The cool helmet now in his hands, he sets it off to the side on the mattress, and the inside rolls to face up.

That’s when you notice it – a small label, curiously out of place. You focus your gaze and the small letters focus in view; it’s a name.

His name.

Joel Miller.

You smile and decide to tuck the new knowledge away, for now, and turn your attention back to him.

Oh my.

He’s fucking hot.

Seeing him for the first time is jarring.

Like you should’ve expected him to look exactly like this, perhaps you’d expected him not to be so fucking handsome.

His wide brown eyes are watching you, the stare lingering on your face, the same stare you’d felt burning into your soul the entire evening. His pupils are dilated, a sentiment of his arousal for you. You want to take your time admiring him, in case he changes his mind and reverts back into the comfort of his helmet, but it’s too late for that; you’ve seen him.

You’ll remember every detail of him until the day you die. The patchy facial hair, his full mustache trimmed neatly; a small heart shape on the left side made your heart swell, it's well-groomed but still simultaneously unruly. He's a man who looks after himself. On the right cheek, there is a single dimple; showcasing itself as he bites the inside of his cheek.

It seems you finally had him like putty in your hands. He looks anxious, his eyes scanning your face frantically, searching for anything that would make you retreat from him, any sign of regret.

Your hand reaches out slowly as if approaching a stray animal, your pleading eyes begging for this one thing, just one simple touch. He flinches slightly as if this kind of feeling of your skin on his was foreign to him, but he doesn’t move, nor resist your action.

The pad of your soft thumb rubs over his lips, and you lean forward as if to kiss him.

You don’t.

Instead, you pause with your lips inches away from his, your hot breaths mingling together. A smirk washes over your face, and you flint your gaze up to his.

“Nice to meet you, Joel,” you whisper seductively.

What the fuck.

You uttering his name catches him off guard, rendering him surprised and vulnerable. He looks at you like he just got stabbed; he wouldn’t be the only one tonight. Like a bear preparing for a fight, he growls, and bucks his hips up into you, beginning to fuck you again, hard.

With his cock stuffed inside of you and the sight of his face, you’re close to your release.

Eyes gazing into his for real for the first time tonight, you feel a wave of pleasure overcome you, and you spill over onto him like a broken yolk. You fall forward, body limp and sore, and he lets you lay there, his chest your strength. He pauses, letting you work through your orgasm.

Once your shaking has subsided, he brings his hand up to your jaw. He smooshes your cheeks together, your lips puffing as he does. He stares at them for a moment, his expression mirroring your own, eyes dark with desire, before pulling them to his in a fiery kiss. His tongue explores the recesses of your mouth, and you welcome it with a moan that rumbles from the very core of your desire. Fuck, finally. You savor the taste of him, all salt with a hint of mint.

His lips part from yours, and he begins to chase his own release once more, his cock resuming its relentless pace, fucking in and out of you.

Seeing and feeling your orgasm already had him close. For the first time tonight, he finally got sips of fresh air, each breath filled with the sweet scent of all things you. He was absolutely ravenous.

“Fuck–,” he gasps, his orgasm not far off, “Gonna come, little mouse, wanna shit–wanna fill you up, make you full of me,” he says, breath heavy and shallow with each thrust.

“Yes, daddy, please,” you pant, moans weak and timid.

“Fuck, Joel, give me your cum, want it so bad” you beg, your walls pulsing and squeezing around him, your cunt crying to be filled.

He gives you a few more shaky rolls of his hips, and then slows, balls deep inside you.

“You’re mine now, little mouse,” he says, shooting long, thick ropes of milky white release, painting your cervix with his seed.

At that moment you realize you are his, nothing more than a little mouse caught in his trap – and he’ll never let you go.

END

...or is it?

Tagging: @sydneyinacoma @darkheartgatita @elegantduckturtle @alltheglitterandtheroar @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @reddedmiller @morallyinept @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @secretelephanttattoo @ruinmepedro @papipascalispunk @dins-riduur-anthe @untamedheart81 @planet-marz1 @pascalpvnk @elvinaa @joeldjarin @javiscigarette @cavillscurls and @toxicanonymity (our queen of dark fics and source of inspiration)

Oh hey! You made it to the end. Cool. Thanks for reading. Since you're here, I'll pass on a reminder that I'm just a horny little wannabe fic writer trying to make her way on this hell site and write things that make people turned on happy. Likes and comments are wonderful and much appreciated, but reblogs are really what counts in making people see this, especially for smaller blogs like mine. If you like this, please consider reblogging.

#dark joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader #pedro pascal #joel miller smut #the last of us #kinktober #dark writing #pedrohub #collaborative writing

485 notes · View notes

usedpidemo · 9 months

Text

Parasailing (Kim Minju & Jo Yuri)

> You're lonely and feel sad because your favorite idols are gone and never upload any pictures in their Instagram. You're really missing them because Minju and Yuri are your favorite underrated ship in Izone. When you decided to drinking alone in tent bar you recognize Minju and Yuri are there having their good time. You're so shy to be at the same place with them and stealing glances. Until you realized that you're drinking with them and told them how you miss them. Because of too much drinking alcohol and being bratty Yuri, she flirt with you and shy Minju try to stop her and after that they are in your place with Yuri kissing you and Minju watching it. being shy but enjoy it. And you fuck bratty Yuri and shy Minju. After that you're kissing their forehead and tell them that your so lucky to be with them and tell them that they are so loveable - @quietfallendemon

—————

There is no other way to put it: you’ve hit rock bottom. You’re down horrendous. It’s a sorry state your family or friends can drag you out of, no matter how hard they try—and that’s if you still have any friends left. In the eyes of randoms, they see a zombie, a soulless husk of a man—one who used to be brimming with life, with nothing but anguish and despair filling his soul now. Each passerby looks on with one of two expressions: concern and pity or apathy and indifference. Some with a little disgust. They’ve got lives to live, obligations to attend to, and some divine purpose given by higher powers to fulfill. So do you, but there’s a difference: you’ve lost the will to live.

Barely functioning, everyday life has turned into a nightmarish hell. Days, then weeks, and eventually months, fly by in a loop. You slog through your office job, receive income, then you carelessly splurge on lavish drinking bursts afterward. Your liver absolutely despises your guts by now. Night after night, you drink away the ceaseless pain hurting your heart more than the alcohol you consume. It’s become too numbing at this point. The morning after, you don’t bother cleaning up the mess you unknowingly made from the day before, especially when you throw up on the floors of your apartment rather than on your toilet.

So it goes. Not a single day passes by without digging your grave a little deeper with your alcohol addiction, but Fridays were particularly special. It’s when you decide that your place shouldn’t bear the brunt of your rampant alcoholism for one day. Instead, after another monotonous shift, you head to your favorite place—your other place of solitude—a tent bar that treats you like their best friend, mainly because you’re their most loyal customer, but otherwise, you enjoy the fresh air, grilled food, and the patrons’ attempts to sing their hearts out—with hilarious results.

Of course, the drinks were also part of the experience. You usually end up passing out quicker compared to every other day.

You’re partially through your first drink when two particularly mesmerizing girls walk in holding hands. Tipsy or not, their beauty immediately captures your attention. Even dressed in all black, they’re shining, like angels descended from heaven to grace this cursed earth, sent to remind people of their higher purpose and walk in them.

Gradually, you’re staring, drooling. Your brain’s in complete shambles, unable to comprehend how divine creatures like them casually walk among mere mortals, partaking in lowly, sinful activities like drinking and hanging out at bars. They take their seats across your table; a perfect position to hold your attention in permanent captivity, without any obstruction.

A waiter approaches the two women, and he should’ve been a distraction, but instead, it becomes a showcase. The girl in the black dress, seated on the left, shoots these playful, childish stares at the waiter, basically flirting with the guy while she stating her order. Her partner is much more reserved, sharing hers in an orderly manner before they’re left to talk with themselves again. The older girl slaps her friend’s shoulder, as if correcting her, which the younger woman simply brushes off with a laugh. From just one interaction, you’re hooked. You had to have her. This night won’t end without their names etched in your head, and if you’re lucky, their number, maybe even more.

Another waiter arrives at your table, bottle in hand, asking if you want a refill, which you absentmindedly decline. You’re drinking in the sight of the two girls, even as they do casual activities while waiting. They’re exchanging conversations, hiding suppressed giggles, but it doesn’t mute the younger woman’s boisterous laughter. It should be a nuisance, but it isn’t; it’s a treat to watch her cheeky, bright personality. Even her friend, whose disposition is a complete contrast, has some charm to her reserved nature, and they bounce off each other seamlessly.

In the midst of this space between you and the girls, someone else is singing karaoke, much to the girls’ amusement. That’s their source of laughter, the very grating voice of that poor soul. Even the older girl’s starting to lighten up, despite repeatedly tapping her friend’s shoulder while she laughs along. Their waiter arrives with their drinks, and they immediately down two glasses each in rapid succession. You’re not even halfway through your first.

“Hey, you think I should try to sing and make these losers second guess about performing next time?” asks the younger girl, staring at the next patron performing on stage.

“Please don’t.” The older woman replies, face flushed bright red from embarrassment. “We shouldn’t make a scene here—”

“C’mon, no one cares. Why are you such a killjoy, Minmin?” she retorts, making a cute pout. Minmin’s dismay is your enjoyment.

“I know you want to sing so bad, Yul. Believe me, you’ll be back on stage soon, but you just have to be patient—”

“Says the loser who hasn’t gotten an acting job, actress!”

You’re amazed Minmin hasn’t tried to physically restrain her—at least, not yet. Instead, she’s dragged along by Yul to the stage so they can perform. The older woman reluctantly follows without any resistance, simply grabbing the mics without any fanfare, not even announcing who they are or what they’ll perform.

The music starts. The girls begin to sing. It’s after the first verse that the pieces begin to come together.

Somehow, this girl, Yul, with her childish attitude, flirty face, and sharp tongue, has the most soulful voice you’ve heard in a very long time. She looks effortless; she runs through each part with minimal strain and her expressions convey the emotion of the ballad very well. Minmin isn’t far off either, but her vocal does not hold a candle to Yul’s. If they were bar singers, you’d be cursing at the earth giving these two unfortunate circumstances, because such talent shouldn’t be constrained to the confines of an open bar. These two are truly angels.

When the song ends, Yul reverts to her mischievous persona, shooting winks and flying kisses at the audience as she walks off the stage, followed by her best friend, shyly bowing at every turn. After returning to their seats, the younger woman’s wearing this prideful, triumphant expression on her lips, basking in the glory, eager to gloat. Minmin’s nervously smiling, still gently bowing at everyone while cutely gesturing with her hands in a plea to make everyone stop.

Then it’s business as usual at the tent bar again. Copious drinking, out of pitch singing, and you mindlessly staring at the girls that it’s outright criminal.

Until the thought finally hits.

“Yul…Minmin…Yuri…Minju,” you silently mouth. Your eyes suddenly widen, and the realization finally dawns on you.

At first, it was a complete coincidence. They looked too similar to be truly them, that it’s a convincing impersonation or face job at best. The real evidence was in their vocals. They sounded too similar, close to a near-perfect impression. You’ve never heard such divine singing in a very long time, and now it's clear why.

Jo Yuri and Kim Minju performed for you.

The day they disappeared just so happened to be the same day your life began to fall apart. While they’re out here living their best lives and enjoying their down time, you were at your lowest, your breaking point. Some part of you understands they bear no blame; it’s fate, an inevitability of any temporary group. Yet, no matter how much you prepared for the end, you couldn’t endure the loss. The other members have successfully transitioned to their new careers, whether it be in new groups or even solo, but those two—Minju and Yuri— essentially went off the radar. They barely posted on Instagram, so you couldn’t even keep up with them on a consistent basis like their former members. Their last shared photos were eight months ago. Minimal social media messages, even fewer magazine shoots or advertisements, and no music, movie, or show to get excited about.

To see them together again not only brings nostalgia, but also revives your sense of purpose again.

Every girl in that group was special, but in your eyes, Minju and Yuri were different. Yuri had her standout vocals, Minju with her divine beauty, but you loved them beyond those traits; you loved everything about them. You promised you’d support their endeavors after disbandment, but so far, there was nothing to support. Their absence from the spotlight hurt you more than it hurt them. The worst part is the realization that you’ll likely never see them after tonight, that you can’t do anything to convince them to further their careers—to do something. After all, you wanted them both to thrive like their other members.

Of course, you can’t approach them casually. You’ll probably melt into a puddle mere steps away. So you whip out your phone and take rapid-fire photos. It’s dangerous, but fuck it, this is a once in a lifetime scene. They’re preoccupied with their drinks and conversation to notice your camera. You gather a gallery that will sustain you for months, even if they disappear from the public eye again. At first, you’re delighted, overjoyed even, but the immediate realization clouds your mood.

You sigh. You put your phone down, staring at the twosome once again, but this time, with a yearning desire. They’re within your grasp. Uncertain of the future, you slowly reach out with your hand, imagining a scenario where you pour your heart out to them—how you missed them so badly, how much their disappearance has affected you, and how you’ll wait for them till eternity, even if realistically, you’ll break long before that no matter how long it takes for them to make a song, be in a movie or show, anything. Sure, this all sounds ridiculous, alarmingly disturbing, and should be shared with a therapist instead of two celebrities, but to you, no one would understand more than Minju and Yuri can.

When you draw your hand back, Minju’s eyes are locked right at yours. She’s gently smiling and waving back. Yuri notices her gesture, recognizes you, and waves along with greater energy. The younger idol giggles at you. She catches you in a moment of weakness, cheeks puffed up and tensely flushed. The two girls exchange a brief glance, Yuri’s eyes alight with a new opportunity to cause more mischief, smirking at her, essentially screaming that no one, not even Minju, can stop her.

Yuri cocks her head to the side, shoots you a wink, a flying kiss, sticks out her tongue; she flirts with a tinge of both cuteness and sexiness that heightens her attraction—and awakens a bit of your lust. Minju facepalms, awkwardly chuckling, wanting no part in this act. You’re left frozen, in awe at how unabashedly coy she is. She was the resident brat, but now she’s taken her friskiness to a whole new level. Proving your point, she pulls the strap of her dress down, teasing, expression mocking, quietly mouthing, “I know you want it.” Just as shocked as you, her friend’s eyes widen, her hand covering her mouth before tapping Yuri’s shoulder, telling her to stop. Surprisingly, she complies obediently, pulls her thin strap back up.

Hopefully, no one else besides you saw that.

Averting their gaze for a moment, you take a moment to let the small interaction sink in. You got more than you bargained for: a serenade, a gallery’s worth of photos, and flirty fanservice from your favorite idols. Perhaps this is what you needed to finally bring yourself out of your self-inflicted funk and back to normalcy. Maybe this is what you really need all along: closure. They won’t be in your life moving forward, but your fond memories of them are always there to look back on, and you’re grateful for the joy they provided you during those difficult times.

When you look back up, Minju and Yuri have disappeared from the table across yours; they’re directly seated right in front of you. They’re carefully watching your every move, Yuri’s expression brazen as ever, constantly searching for opportunities to pick you apart, and Minju, her enabler, despite the light admonitions and warnings, shyly following her junior’s eyes. All it takes is one turn before it spirals into a car crash of disastrous proportions.

Thankfully, you’re not the one to break the ice. “Sup,” says Yuri, casually feigning innocence. Your lips move in the shape of hello, but only air comes out. They’ve seen this reaction from fans hundreds of times.

“Hello,” adds Minju, sweetly smiling, as pure as her brightly lit face. “Did you enjoy our little performance?”

It takes a minute—maybe four—before an answer forms in your head. You’ve seen them from afar, you’ve seen them up close, but never in your wildest dreams did you imagine them talking to you on an intimate level. They’re patient, softly giggling over how overwhelmed and speechless you are to respond back. Anyone else in that space would react the same way; you don’t need to move your neck around to feel the jealousy from your fellow patrons. You’re not only carrying your own burdens, but the expectations of others.

“Yeah.” The word comes out natural, without second thought, while your thoughts are focused on them and them alone. Fuck, their skin looks flawless, is your sole noteworthy observation. Even if you had the full capacity to think coherently, you’d end up with this exact same answer.

“We missed performing on stage, so we felt that it would be nice to go up and—” Minju pauses, repeatedly turning to her friend, silently observing you, trying her best to look diplomatic. “Sing a little bit. We were a little nervous, but I’m glad you liked it.”

“Well, why haven’t you done that?” you ask, the nervous smile on your features gradually shifting to a frown.

“Done what?”

Leaning forward, the stare you shoot is sharp, cold. “You haven’t been on Instagram in months. Both of you. The other members have been on TV, they’ve been releasing music, they’ve been doing photoshoots, they’re in commercials. They’re being successful, but you—” You pause, aware of your surroundings, trying your hardest not to make a scene. “Where the hell have you been?”

Both girls’ reactions split down the middle as your temper flares ever slightly. Yuri leans back into her chair, turns to her friend, surprised by the sudden shift in tone, anxious of what happens now. Minju remains calm, gently rubs her hand on hers, reassuring her.

She takes a moment to formulate a response. “It’s been harder than we thought.”

“How come?”

Another pause. Minju sighs pondering the thought. “You have no idea how much we want to perform, you know. Believe us. We really tried. I’ve auditioned for a few big name projects, got a few scripts from some web dramas. They were glorified cameos at best. You don’t know how painful it is to see the news that someone else got the role in those big projects—”

Yuri nods in agreement, equally as dejected. She adds, “They promised me I’d debut soon. They never specified exactly when. They have this boy group I’ve written songs for, they debuted and made two comebacks already with another one lined up in a few months. I’ve written and recorded so many songs that I absolutely want to perform. Waiting this long, I—”

Yuri pauses, then sighs. Her eyes are glassy.

“I don’t even know if I want to do this anymore.”

The revelation pierces through your heart like an arrow. It’s heartbreaking. Unbelievable, hearing it directly from their mouths. You simply cannot believe they’re struggling when everyone else has been able to successfully continue their careers. Even shittier agencies recognize the treasure they have and at least try to make something happen, but this is completely absurd. It sounds too painful to be true.

Only one word can perfectly describe it. “How?”

“We honestly don’t know.” Minju replies, solemn, downtrodden, defeated. “We might just give up, honestly. Our management won’t do anything to help us. Maybe our time in the spotlight is just meant to be short-lived.”

You remember the rumblings from a while back, how Minju was scouted and offered a seven-figure deal to join her other members in Le sserafim. She declined. In retrospect, she could have saved her career and two months’ worth of migraines with what eventually became a disastrous debut. Fuck, even the thought of seeing her with Sakura and Chaewon together in that alternate reality sparks your imagintion.

“You should have taken that deal, Minju. You really should have.” You put it to her straight, almost mocking, very damning, as if to say, ‘I told you so.’

She sighs through the thought, completely despondent. “Yeah. Maybe.”

The mood is cold, grim. Alcohol releases your most intrusive thoughts, no matter how harsh or intimate they sound. That isn’t to say you don’t regret them; you’ll ponder the consequences in the morning, as usual. At the very least, you find common ground with your two favorite idols, drinking it up through life’s challenges as a coping mechanism.

“I’m sorry,” you suddenly blurt. “I—I just really miss you both on screen.”

“It’s all right,” adds Minju, trying to form a smile through the pain. Seeing the vulnerability in her eyes makes the gesture even more heartbreaking. “I’m just glad you’re still waiting for us. That anyone still wants us.”

“God, you can’t imagine the jealousy I feel whenever I see the others nowadays and immediately wonder what are you doing. I mean, I don’t hate them, I just—”

“Oh, I understand that feeling very well,” Minju replies, her grin slowly widening, suppressing a chuckle. Yuri takes the bottle on your side to pour a drink on your cup, which she also steals. “We still keep contact and they’re also asking what the fuck are we even doing.”

“Look on the bright side, they don't have time to have fun these days, am I right?” Yuri interrupts, followed by boisterous laughter from her. Minju tries, but gloom gets in the way. You try to laugh, but it hurts to laugh right now, among a multitude of other feelings, particularly, pain, despair, and regret.

“Well, it’s not been fun for me ever since you’ve been gone,” you say.

You slip your phone concealed behind your hand, slide it across the table. The two women smile at what’s on screen; it’s memories from their past. It’s a treasure trove of funny, embarrassing, and endearing captures that border on obsession. If they didn’t know any better, you’d certainly be under a restraining order after seeing the bogus gallery saved on your phone.

“Damn, we looked quite cute,” says Yuri, scrolling between pictures. Their heads inch a little closer, while their free fingers trace around each other’s edges.

“Yeah.” Minju lightly nods. “I’m glad we still have each other, even now.”

The older woman slides the phone back to you. Two pairs of eyes gaze at you, both with piqued interest, but Yuri’s eyes widen, with much bigger intentions in mind.

“We really appreciate that you’re still waiting for us,” adds Minju, humble in tone and demeanor as ever. “Just give us your order tonight. It’s all on us.”

You’re briefly taken aback. Even with your sorry state, you feel as if you don’t deserve to be rewarded. Panickedly, you shake your head, “No—no—please don’t. It’s all right, I’ll pay for my own—”

“We insist; please let us take care of you tonight,” Minju interjects. Yuri glances at her, intrigued by her answer, as a new idea dawns upon her.

“Yeah, you should listen to her,” the younger girl adds, returning her gaze at you with a smirk. “Let us handle it.”

That was your first mistake.

—————

Actually, the first mistake was focusing on them to begin with, and the second was allowing them to close the space in your heart.

Yuri leads the way back to your apartment and is the first one in; that’s when you realize the mess you’ve gotten yourself in—both literally and figuratively. Empty food packs and spilled beer bottles make up most of the litter that fills every room in your once decent flat. It makes you look even worse than you already are. Mentally you’re apologizing, growing more flustered as your two uninvited guests explore your place. Minju’s been reserved the entire time that the expression she makes is nearly indistinguishable, even though her mouth gradually slacks seeing the shitshow you’ve been living in for a while.

“Your place is really cute!” Yuri knocks off some of the mess on the living room table before hopping on the desk, completely disregarding the wet puddle that now stains her black dress.

Minju’s mouth opens, but not a single word is uttered. It’s no longer her problem.

It’s yours.

“I hope you don’t mind us hanging out for a bit,” she says, and you’re not opposed to the notion in the slightest. Anything to liven up your place.

You and Minju leave Yuri by herself on the desk—for now. From across the table is the only piece in the apartment left untouched. Dusty, but unsullied. It’s a shelf filled with merch, albums, and group pictures.

“You took this?” She reaches her hand out to a particular photo, a framed picture of her and Yuri doing fanservice during one of their concerts. You quietly nod.

She smiles wider at the shot. “Would you like me to sign it?”

As you’re about to reply, Yuri swoops in between you both, tired of being ignored for at least five minutes.

“Hey! What are you doing—” she notices the framed picture, disrupting her train of thought. “Ooh! I remember this! We look cute here, Minmin!” Without any consideration, the younger girl snatches the framed photo from her friend.

“Can we keep this?”

“No.” Minju tries to take the photo back, but Minju brushes her away. “That’s his photo, you can’t just—”

“I’ll buy it for lots of money!”

“Stop! No amount of money can buy the sentimental value it has. Just give it back.”

“But money can’t buy this pussy though.” Yuri lifts the bottom of her dress, teasing her panties. Minju immediately pushes it back down.

“Yuri!”

“What?” Yuri asks, lips pouting, tone innocent, as if unaware of the stunt she just pulled off. “You know how horny these fanboys are.” Turning to you, she reaches the photo out for you to reclaim. “Your choice.”

There’s no resistance when you take the photo back and return it from the shelf. Yuri’s hands are itching to grab at her dress again, as if daring you to prove her point. Minju’s on edge, on the cusp of bailing, ready to take her friend with her before this messy situation leads to something worse. It’s a little tense, the mood a little suffocating, and none of you are able to make the best judgment calls.

“Sorry,” mutters Minju, now holding her friend’s hand. “I’m really sorry about that. We should leave—”

“No you’re not—” Yuri blurts out, before Minju places her other hand on her mouth, visibly irate by her malicious behavior.

“It’s all good,” you mumble, still fixated on the very notion that they’re in your apartment. One way or another, you want them to stay a little longer. And then you make your next mistake. “I mean, in all honesty, it’s about time I should get rid of these. Like I said before, I haven’t been able to move on, but you two are getting by just fine.”

“Right.” Minju’s gaze is sympathetic, enchanting, endearing—everything that reminds you of simpler times. The thought dawned on you at times, when you really considered burning it all—no, not even considering selling it to more sensible people—but actually burning the bridge connecting you and them. Though you say you want to move on, you understood it would haunt you for the rest of your life if you actually followed through with such an impulsive decision. “But you shouldn’t.”

Yuri pushes Minju’s hand off her. “I think you just need a little pussy. It’s not that deep.”

“Yuri!” Minju faces her with an even more annoyed glare.

“Maybe you’re right,” you blurt, capturing the girls’ attention. “I’m not free of sin, I do think you’re hot. Both of you.”

“Told you.” Yuri gloats, shaking her other hand free of Minju’s grip. She then approaches you, caresses your shoulders up to your cheek, lightly brushing the sides of your hair. “Tell me: am I the most fuckable member of the group?”

Knowing that Yuri has won, Minju stops trying to intervene. Admittedly, it was, in fact, Minju you thought was the most fuckable, and that’s no easy feat in such a stacked group, but to appease her, you nod.

“Come here,” murmurs Yuri, her fingertips rubbing around your chin as she drags you down for a sinful, deep kiss. Your fingers thread on her dress, the very same one she threatened to pull, now in your possession to grip. Her leg wraps around your hip as she pulls you closer, yearning for more of you, at the expense of your balance. It’s all falling into place, close to falling apart.

Then she says the two words that ultimately end you.

“Fuck me.”

And that’s when everything breaks.

You both end up in your bedroom, pushing Yuri onto the mattress, then hastily ridding yourself of your clothes: tie, coat, and shirt in that order. She kicks off her heels, smirking, tongue sticking out—teasing you with glimpses of her legs, panties, and pussy as you struggle to push down your pants. I know you want it, she mouths, and you’re inadvertently nodding in agreement. From the onset, you knew her dress wouldn’t come off on its own; she’s challenging you to rip it off her body, which you had every intention to do.

Your pants are still halfway down your legs when you join her in bed, completely removed after you shake the now useless heap off your feet. Yuri pulls you while you’re still approaching her for another passionate kiss. She recognizes your desire to undress her just as quickly, too. From lips to lips, she lightly brushes you down, your lips landing on her chin, neck, and collarbones. Your hand tries to grab a piece of her clothing; she parries your every attempt at her dress.

“You won’t make this easy, will you?” you say, aware of her daunting challenge but worked up regardless.

“Of course,” replies Yuri, visibly smug, getting amusement from riling people up. She rolls to the side and wraps her arms around your waist in a tight embrace. Kissing your forehead, she adds, “Show me how bad you wanna fuck me.”

It’s the right combination of seductive words, tone, and taunting demeanor that causes you to wrestle control over her. Reciprocating her kiss to your forehead, you return the favor, whisper an equally filthy reply that makes her squirm with excitement. “I’m gonna fuck this pussy so hard. Gonna fucking wreck you.”

“Try me.”

You slip both straps of her dress down her arms, enough to reveal her round, perky breasts without any cleavage. Without any further hesitation you keep going; nose, lips, neck, down to her chest—you leave a sloppy trail of bite marks, not even kisses in your wake. Yuri shuts her eyes, whines, folds like a deck with your arousing touch. Her body’s feeding your aching, hungry soul better than any meal ever could.

If it were up to you, and if it was in your capacity, the rest of her garment would be ripped in half through your teeth. Instead, they’re bunched up halfway around her waist, with the bottom half pushed up with your hand as you take hold of her panties. Digging your fingers between them, she winces, groans sympathetically, as your thumb presses on her folds, twisting her legs between yours uncomfortably. A single touch informs you that she’s wet at her core, aching, throbbing. She told you it wouldn’t be this easy; you’ll make sure it stays that way.

“Goddamn, Yuri. This wet already and I’m barely getting down with what I wanna do with you,” you mumble, your thumb lightly nudging against her folds. She’s trembling, breathing rapidly, fingers now gripped on the edge of your sheets, unable to keep still, her lips forming incoherent babbles. Add your other hand in the equation, take a handful of her chest, palm it around your grip for you to play with. It doesn’t do much that already overwhelms her senses, but her flesh is so squeezable, so malleable, so delicate to grasp, it becomes almost impossible to let go.

You dig your fingers around Yuri’s clit, her hips slowly grinding in tandem with your efforts to pleasure her. Her thighs involuntarily spread, providing more space for your fingers to be swallowed up by the tightness of her folds. With each pump and withdrawal, your digits are coated in copious amounts of slick. The sensations in her aching core pull your hand in like a magnet, allowing you to indulge in the erotic sight of Yuri quaking, screaming, tossing her head back beneath you.

“Yes, yes, yes—keep going—fuck—” Yuri makes her blissful cries loud and clear, enough for your neighbors to hear, way past any subtlety. Maintaining a steady rhythm fingering the mewling woman, you move your other hand back and forth between her shapely breasts, squeezing and kneading them, your eyes inching closer with each ripple, bounce, and jiggle. Something about the way she melts with every move you make on her slowly drives you wild, your mind racing with countless sinful desires you’ve been quietly suppressing ever since you first laid your eyes on them.

If not for how addicting it is to feel her soft flesh in your hand, it’d be hardening your cock right now. Doesn’t matter; you’ve been slowly gliding your legs, positioning yourself directly atop her, your bulge aching against her thighs, yearning for her skin. Can’t grow too comfortable, even as she squirms, yelps, writhes beneath your grasp. She adjusts, becomes acclimated to your fingers as it draws more slick, airily begging for more. Even before she considers the thought, you’re one step ahead of her, quickening your pace, generating a sloppy, satisfying sound while she leaks on your sheets.

You’re losing it, reveling in this newfound power you have over Yuri, that her orgasmic screams of pain and pleasure go overlooked. It isn’t clear whether she wants you to keep going or to stop. Your fingers never relent, even while she makes a quivering mess of your bedsheets and wetting your thigh and boxers. Eventually, you withdraw your digits from her torrentially drenched cunt. Another sticky waterfall drips on already inundated sheets. She can’t stop cumming. She doesn’t want to stop, body willing.

Yuri tosses her legs around, weak legs still violently trembling from her orgasm. The room returns to its usually quiet setting—except the gentle sound of sloppy flesh lingers. A bit quieter, more subdued, but your ears recognize a familiar sound.

Oh, right.

Somehow, you completely overlooked Minju’s presence. While you were focused on pleasuring Yuri, she had quietly leaned against the bedroom door, one of her hands following yours to that same pleasurable spot, watching with glazed eyes, enjoying the sight of her friend getting her rightful punishment. An unforgivable offense, but anyone else in your position would have done the same thing, especially when a half naked Yuri’s offering herself up on your bed.

“I was expecting you to go all the way,” she drawls, breathing heavily between words. She doesn’t care that your eyes are looking down, following her hand deep between her underwear hypnotically. “I hate to say it, but I was feeling a little jealous of her.”

Without a word, you quickly slide down her already unzipped jeans, her panties to follow. Holding her active hand, you draw it away from her core, your eyes intertwined in a passionate gaze. Time slows to a crawl. Your lips inches apart from sparking another fire. The whole time you’ve known her, she’s been quiet, reserved, nervous to make a move—that she’d ask you seven times before finally going for whatever move she wants to make.

She pulls you for a deep kiss, her other hand tugging down your wet boxers. Pressing your weight against hers, she strokes your hard cock, rubs it against her aching core, moans seductively in your ear. You’re biting down on her neck, collarbones, anything that marks her, tells the world you fucked her. Your hands latch onto her hourglass shaped waist, lightly pushing her on the bedroom door, lightly taking her off the ground without any grace, her skin another addiction to ruin your life.

Kissing down her clothed chest, you make quick work of her off-shoulder shirt before you dive back into her perfect body. Minju whimpers and whines,her nails digging into your back as you peck your way toward her core. She feels so right in your grasp; her ridiculous proportions, her slender legs, her unreal navel that warrants a prolonged kiss—everything about Kim Minju’s body was meant to be worshiped. She brings you to your knees, down to your lowest. It was easy to ruin Yuri, but this is something far beyond your level.

How do you deserve something like this?

Looking between her spread legs, you contemplate the thought. Minju’s achingly wet, just like her younger friend. She regains a little composure and realizes you’re on your knees, frozen in place. The graceful and patient woman she is, she gently caresses your cheek, forcing you to meet her gentle gaze. “Take me. Even just for tonight, I’m yours.”

Her lips draw yours like a magnet. Minju breaks eye contact at the first touch, moaning as your tongue familiarizes itself with her deliciously soft folds. Her head repeatedly thumps against the door with a thud, Digging your hands on her thighs, you’ve got Minju exactly where you want her to be: wrapped around your head in a suffocating lock. It doesn’t matter that your words come out as corrupted babble; your tongue is doing all the talking, and it loves her pussy.

“That’s it, that feels so good.” She rubs her hands on your hair, gradually shifting into a grip of the back of your skull as you acclimate to her velvety walls. “Doesn’t fucking me feel better than Yuri does?”

You’ll make your final comparison when you’re done with them both. For now, you’re focused on devouring Minju’s cunt, or dying by thigh asphyxiation—whichever comes first. Her approving moans encourage you, as if you needed any further motivation, and even if you lacked the desire, which is a completely absurd thought, her legs are there to make sure you drink up till she has nothing left.

Her juices taste so sweet, so divine, that even if your tongue dries up, you'd still be relentlessly eating her out. Soon enough, your tongue digs through every sensitive nerve and spot, setting every nerve in Minju’s body on fire. Little by little, you’re chipping away at her dainty facade. Her volume and pitch rises and rises; her grip on your hair and face tightens further. She’s exactly like her friend: a screaming mess that loves getting fucked.

There’s no tempo, no constant pace in the manner you take Minju—only a need to devour. Her patience knows only one thing too: the reward of an inevitable climax. She’s slowly grinding her hips against your face, pulling you further into her wrecked folds. It’s too fast and too sudden; you’re amazed at how she’s this alarmingly drenched—

“Fuck!”

Minju cries out, pulling you harshly by the hair, turning your face into a canvas of sticky nectar. From your vantage point, her eyes are slammed shut, mouth agape, stuck in suspended animation while her body violently trembles, even shaking your foundations. She’s completely lost in the high of her release, basking in the powerful sensations washing over her. As the lewd scene plays out, your tongue eagerly gathers up her juices. It overflows, drips down your chest and spills all over the floor even when you carry her to bed, flippantly tossing her beside her freshly fucked friend.

You take a breather to taste them both at once. Euphoric.

—————

The sight in front of you is enough to make you cum. Your two favorite members splayed on your bed, at their barest, in a state of coming undone because of your handiwork. And you still haven’t put your dick inside either of them. Deciding which one to slide your cock in first is a life or death decision. You’ll make your choice after you flip them on their backs.

You’re stroking your cock as you join the two girls on the bed, your other hand caressing Minju and Yuri’s skin back and forth, grabbing a pair of handfuls of ass. Time is a nonfactor; you’ve got all night to do every fantasy you’ve imagined with them, yet they’re still reeling from their initial orgasms, taking longer to recover.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect,” you whisper against Minju’s back, adding emphasis with each word, send a shiver all over her spine. Yuri feels every word too. “I dream about this exact scenario often. You, completely naked on your back, as I fuck you and cum all over this hot pussy from behind—” you follow, before you’re overcome by the urge to kiss her shoulder. It’s better than whatever dreams you’ve conjured up, because it’s real. You rub your cock against Minju’s folds, and it’s an immaculate sensation that not even your imagination can conjure up.

The tension hardly stretches for more than a few precious moments. Even without words, you understood they were impatient, and so were you. Deep in your gut, there’s a fear that if you wasted a little more time, this once in a lifetime opportunity will disappear in a blink of an eye.

“Fuck.” Minju’s pussy feels so incredibly tight, you never want to pull out from the uncertainties of tomorrow. It’s all the more intense when you draw yourself out, then thrust back in, watch as your cock enters and exits her cunt at a steady tempo. The bed gently rocks in harmony with your motion, moving like the ticks of a clock. The longer you fuck her, the longer the fantasy remains.

You grab her by the shoulder, by the waist, by her hair. Any part you haven’t marked red, you see red. Minju remains motionless, body lightly rippling, reduced to a groaning heap with each stroke. In this prone position, she’s nothing but a toy for your pleasures. You’re dominating her. You can tell she hasn’t taken dick this hard in a long time by her rising tone. You have plenty of filthy things to say, but you’ll let your hips do all the talking for you.

She feels so fucking good, so fucking hot.

It only seems appropriate that you almost lose yourself in Minju’s heat when suddenly, Yuri cries out for you. “Please.”

You don’t relent. Instead, by instinct, your pace quickens. Snaking your hand on her shoulder, you inch closer to Minju’s head, gently nibbling her ear. “God, Minju, you’re such a delightful fucktoy. So much easier to handle than your friend.”

Yuri’s hand reaches out to yours, and it snaps you from your lust-fueled haze. Her eyes sparkle under the dim light, cutely whimpering, “Fuck me please.”

Can’t hide the smirk on your face after she pleads. You face her, relentlessly pounding into Minju’s pussy, to prove a point. Assert control. You know she has no power over you. You’re threatening to undo yourself before she even gets a hint of mercy.

“I’m yours too,” says Yuri, looking penitent, even though in reality, this was her plan. “You said you were my favorite too, right? Please.”

Something about cutie Yuri tugs at your heartstrings. Cruel as you are, you’ve still got a soft spot. Maybe you fold this easily for cute girls like her. Maybe you’re not as assertive as you’ve projected yourself.

Your shadow hovers atop her. You have a hand gripped on her throat, your wet, hard cock lining against her slick folds. “Brat.”

There’s a subtle smile when you say the word. Her title. Her claim to fame. No matter how submissive she may act, deep down she’s a true brat and prides herself as one. A point made deeper when you impale her pussy with your cock. She screams—a sharp contrast to the subdued Minju. A way to make her point.

“Deeper! Harder! Fuck me hard!” Her voice comes out strained due to your palm firmly pressed on her neck. You lift her slightly upward, snake your suffocating hand down to her breast. Soft, pillowy flesh you squeeze, claim as yours. You’re crooning against her neck while adjusting to her equally hot tightness. Her pleasured-wracked face sticks a rebellious tongue out, darting in your direction as her hand frisks your torso. “You know deep down I’m a better fuck than her—fuck!”

She yelps, falls down to earth without grace. Her hands press on the sheets as you fuck her—ravage her pretty little cunt. No tempo, no slow burn, only raw, unadulterated pounding. Your palm tightly presses her tit, twists her face into even more lewd, unbearable pleasure. The words she has are lost, turned into deafening screams that echo throughout the room. “So! Fucking! Deep!”

It’s sinful, it’s hot, it’s perfect. You have her exactly where you want, propped on all fours as you mindlessly fuck her into submission, hands roaming her chest, her waist, her ass, lips kissing her shoulders and neck. She’s reduced to nothing but a high pitched mess; God, you’re sure everyone knows you’ve got Jo Yuri in bed now. Oh well. You’ve got a story to tell over coffee break on Monday.

It’s only when you force yourself to stop—and this is no easy feat—that she quiets down. Your cock is upset; you’ve edged yourself inside their hot pussy twice now, you can’t keep yourself in limbo forever, among other possible implications. The thought of protection never really bubbled up until this point, but you’re so far gone, far past the point of no return.

You’ll play with fate a little more before leaving yourself in its unpredictable hands.

The tango goes back and forth; Minju then Yuri, in that order, a few minutes at a time, which stretches into hours. You’ve twisted them in positions you fantasized and beyond your imagination, fucking both former idols till your cock can no longer bear with you. So when you have to make that fateful decision, it’s merely an illusion. Even as they make their deepest pleas for you to claim what’s rightfully yours, you reject the notion and take your own path.

It only seems right that the share of warm load is spread over their toned stomachs. In the aftermath of your long overdue orgasm, you fall back and wonder if it was the right decision. Initially, their faces are shaken with disbelief, utterly shocked that for once, the fan never came inside either of them, before all three of you eventually succumbed to their soreness and exhaustion.

—————

By some miracle, you’re standing on your two feet, holding onto Minju’s shoulders as she turns on the shower. Running water gushes over all three of you as it flows down your bodies without moving with the intended purpose of cleaning yourselves up. The older woman tilts her head at an angle where your lips find solace in her collarbones, gently pecking her skin—not the rough, sloppy lovemaking you’d been doing for the past hour, but intimate, sentimental love. She eventually turns around to rub her hand across your entangled arm, sharing in your warmth. Yuri hugs you from behind, her arms wrapped around your waist, nuzzling her head against your back like her favorite pillow. It’s your innermost desires at its most raw, fully realized.

You feel content. You feel grateful.

The same three words repeat in your mouth over and over, spaced between the occasional kiss to both idols, deeply imprinting how much they mean to you. “I love you. I love you.”

You barely scrub each other for over ten minutes before you leave the shower. The two girls crash back into your bed after a rushed effort to dry up, completely overlooking their wet hair. You quietly follow, putting yourself in the center as your two biases instinctively wrap an arm around you, the now quiet mood in the room a far cry from the loud mess it was when you first entered. The last image saved in your head is Yuri’s gentle smile, her finger reaching out to brush away a little strand of hair before you all eventually pass out from exhaustion.

You’ve never been in a better position to die happier.

—————

The morning after is the first after a long time that you don’t feel like complete shit.

The room reeks of sex—a smell that will permeate for a long, long time. Thankfully, it’s the weekend and you’re in no rush to put on your typical office wear. Minju and Yuri are long gone, and so is any trace of their presence in your apartment, except the lingering scent of last night’s activities. Just like that, life goes on.

Mostly.

The day after, you’ve tidied up most of your apartment. By Monday, to the surprise of your employer, you start working past the usual 9-to-5. He makes a little comment about your sudden change of heart walking past your cubicle. “You’re usually the first one out.”

The snarky remark goes overlooked, mostly because you’re preoccupied with thoughts of Minju and Yuri, as usual. You drown yourself in monotonous officework with the purpose of collapsing once you go home. It works. You’d rather be anywhere but home or holding a bottle.

A week passes. Rumblings of your character development spread like wildfire around the workplace, but you pay no heed to it. Friday arrives, and it pains you to hear that you’re not allowed to work overtime hours because of their employee friendly policy. Your mates invite you for a night at some club downtown, but you decline. Some part of you clings to the little hope that they might be there tonight.

The place is mostly empty, save for a few early patrons. You’ve got all night and the weekend, but you didn’t have to wait very long.

As soon as you put your menu down, ready for dinner, the two women have taken seats right in front of you. No words necessary, only warm, easy smiles.

You smile back. “Is this going to be our thing now?”

Now armed with dangerously alluring blonde hair, Yuri briefly kisses you, followed by an inviting smirk shared with Minju that tells you everything you need to know. “We hope your weekend schedule is empty. We have so much in store for you.”

—————

(A/N: I really love fan x idol stories, so this particular one hits all the right notes for me. Apologies once again for taking too long, this was supposed to be done when Taxi dropped (great comeback, go stream!). It's amazing to see Yuri potentially hitting it big globally with her Squid Game 2 casting news, here's hoping Minjobless can find big roles in movies and dramas as well! She deserves it. Thank you for reading!)

(PS: College started up again and I'm drowning in intensive research and assignments, oof. Currently, the only day I have free time is Sunday, since I have school stuff six of the seven days of the week. Expect more lengthy gaps of this magnitude between fics. Additionally, the Pokémon DLC is coming out real soon, which definitely will occupy my spare time more. However, this will change sometime around mid-to-late September, so here's hoping I can get a few more fics out for you. Appreciate you as always <3)

#smut #kpop smut #jo yuri #kim minju #minju #yuri

979 notes · View notes

reputationmunson · 1 year

Text

Delicate | S.H x fem!reader

summary: Steve can’t figure out why he’s so upset that you, his best friend, is going on a date until Robin gives him a reality check

content: fluff, friends to lovers, use of y/n, she/her pronouns, probably too cheesy and cliche

word count: 2.9K

a/n: honestly i didn’t have the energy to proofread this sorry for any mistakes!

Every Friday night, you and Steve can be found watching a movie in his basement, curled up on the couch with every snack imaginable scattered around you. Yes, it’s simple, maybe even mundane to some, but there’s nowhere else the two of you would rather be.

Steve has been your best friend since you were nine. You’d stuck by each other through everything. Even during his ‘king steve’ phase, you never strayed from him. Sure, things were different at that time, but you knew the sweet boy you met on the playground was still in there somewhere. He just needed someone to coax that side of him back out and that person just happened to be you.

Everyone always speculated you two were more than friends. Your parents constantly joked that in a few years you’d be married with a house full of kids. Your friends always referred to you as ‘Mr. and Mrs. Harrington’, the kids called you ‘mom and dad’. Neither of you would correct anyone, but would laugh about it instead.

Despite what literally everyone in your life thinks, nothing romantic has ever happened between the two of you. Sure, you were both touchy and cuddly, but that’s normal between two best friends. You also might’ve had a crush on him freshman year of high school, but quickly got over it when you realized those feelings would never be reciprocated. But, you were so wrong, you just didn’t know it yet. Neither did Steve.

By the time the credits of the movie roll, you're half asleep with your head resting on his shoulder and his arm wrapped around you. You’ve never thought of the cuddling between you as being romantic. You just always felt so comfortable with Steve and he felt the same way around you. He had a way about him that made you feel safe and secure, like every time you were with him nothing bad could happen.

“Hey” Steve whispers, his hand gently rubbing up and down your arm “do you wanna stay tonight?”

“Mmhmm” you nod your head and look at him with a sleepy smile. “I’ll help you clean up” you offer and he shakes his head “We’ll clean up tomorrow. Who would steal all the blankets if you passed out from exhaustion down here?” he teases and you playfully roll your eyes and follow him up to his bedroom. “You’re the blanket thief and you know it, Harrington”

You and Steve have shared a bed more times than you can count. You’d fall asleep in his arms and wake up with your bodies intertwined. Sometimes, when he thinks you’re still asleep, he’ll press a soft kiss to your forehead. Which is normal for two people who were just friends… isn’t it?

“So, we got this move in at family video that looks super cheesy and awful. Wanna watch it tomorrow night?” he asks as you climb into bed next to him. “Oh, I meant to tell you about this earlier but I’m going on a date tomorrow!” you sound excited and he knows it sounds awful, but for some reason that makes his stomach churn. He tries to play it cool, anyway.

“A date, huh? Who ya ditchin’ me for, babe?” babe. He always calls you ‘babe’ or ‘honey’ or any sickeningly sweet pet name that never fails to make you feel flustered. “Brad Mckinley” you tell him and Steve has to hold back a scoff.

Brad McKinley? That asshole? Steve can’t believe you’d give him a second of your time, let alone a date.

“Really? He’s like a huge douchebag”

“How do you know? you go on a date with him?” you taunt.

“He wishes he could get a date with a babe like me. But, c’mon, seriously? He comes into the store all the time with a new girl on his arm and always acts like he’s, I don’t know, better than me. When did he even ask you out?”

“A few days ago. We were both at the supermarket and I almost ran into him in the parking lot with my shopping cart, so I apologized and he said he’d forgive me if I went on a date with him. I thought that was cute and thought he was ever cuter, so i said yes”

Wow, what a line, Steve thinks to himself. “Isn’t he known for having sex with girls and never talking to them again?”

“Steve, this is the first date I'm going on in forever. I don’t really get asked out often. Can’t you be happy for me?”

You do get asked out often, just not directly. Sometimes you and Steve will be out somewhere and guys will come up to him and once he says you aren’t his girlfriend, they try to get him to be his wingman. Steve always comes up with an excuse so they don’t talk to you, but now when you aren’t around, he’s started telling them that you are his girlfriend. He tells himself he only does it to protect, not because he wants you to be his girlfriend. That would be crazy.

“If you’re happy then I am, I guess. Anyways, i’m like super fucking tired. let’s go to bed” you can’t tell if his tone is from being upset or tired, but you brush it off and close your eyes after curling up to him and telling him goodnight.

Steve doesn’t sleep much that night. He’s too worried about you. You’re loving and shy. Soft spoken and kind. Sometimes too kind. He worries your kindness might be taken advantage of and he refuses to let that happen. Ever.

Saturday rolls around and Steve has been sulking all day. He was a little awkward with you this morning before you left. You tried to ask him multiple times if he was okay before you left and he blamed his behavior on being tired, so you let it go. When you left, he told you to have fun on your date, but it came out more sarcastic than intended.

“What is your deal, dude? You have a look on your face like someone stuck a lemon in your mouth while you were sleeping” Robin says and Steve’s brows furrow more than they have been all day. “What the hell does that even mean?”

“It means that you’re acting weird. Weirder than usual” she states and Steve sighs “y/n is going on a date”

“And that’s a problem because you’re in love with her? Right?”

“I am not in love with her! She’s going on a date with Brad Mckinley and I’m just worried about her. As a friend” He adds the last part to make himself perfectly clear, but Robin still isn’t convinced. “You’re jealous” she states as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Which it is to everyone, but Steve.

“That’s crazy. She’s my best friend”

“No. I’m your best friend. She’s your girlfriend without the label”

“That’s ridiculous. She-” Steve starts to defend himself, but Robin interrupts him. “No, it’s not. Just think about it, okay? You two cuddle all the time, you hold her hand when she’s feeling nervous, and you let her touch your precious hair but if anyone else tried to do that you’d swat their hand away. That’s all boyfriend and girlfriend stuff. She even sits on your lap, your lap, Steve.”

He’s left speechless. He’s not in love with you, is he? Steve knows his friendship with you isn’t as conventional as others, but neither of you thought it was unusual. If anything, it would be unnatural if there were no innocent touches between the two of you or glances at each other from across the room that resulted in what can only be described as lovesick smiles. Steve thinks he’d die if he could never hold you again the way he does now. But, you’re going on a date. With someone else.

This guy could end up being your boyfriend who will get to be the one to hold you, you’ll play with his hair, and grab his hand in a crowded room when you’re feeling overwhelmed and Steve will have to watch from the sidelines, wishing that was him. Fuck, he wants that to be him. Forever.

“Holy shit, you’re realizing it aren’t you?” Robin grins and Steve feels the past twelve years of feelings he’s repressed and dismissed come crashing down on him all at once. He’s been so hopelessly and desperately in love with you all this time and it terrifies him. You are the best thing that's ever happened to him. What if he loses you? He couldn’t bear not having you in his life. He’d never recover.

“Holy shit” he breathes out “I love her. I’m fucking in love with her. Why didn’t you guys tell me!” he shouts. Good thing the store was dead. “We thought you knew!” she shouts back. “You have to tell her. Like, immediately”

“I can’t do that” he grumbles, feeling defeated before he’s already tried. “What if she doesn’t feel the same? I mean, I know she doesn’t. There's no way”

“You cannot be that much of an idiot. Do you not see the way she looks at you? You should hear the way she talks about you when you’re not around. Last week when you were late to the get together because you had to work, she was all worried and kept asking what time it was. We could literally talk about ice cubes and she’d find a way to relate the story to you. It’s kinda nauseating, but cute, too”

“You really think she feels the same way?” Steve lights up at the thought of there being even a one percent chance that you love him the way he loves you. “It’s sort of hard to not pick up on when I’ve been watching you idiots make heart eyes at each other every time we all hang out. When does she leave for her date?” Steve checks his watch “An hour. I don’t get off work for three hours, so that’s just great” he complains.

“I’ll cover for you. Go get your girl”

Steve races to your house. Speed limit be damned, he’s not letting anything stop him. His shaky hands grip the steering wheel and he’s so nervous that he’s debated stopping a couple times to puke on the side of the road.

What is he even going to say to you? ‘Hey, I know you’re going on a date but I’ve been in love with you for most of my life. Wanna be my girlfriend?’yeah, that’s not gonna cut it. You deserve flowers, or a poem, or a goddamn flashmob, but, unfortunately, he doesn’t exactly have the time to get a group together for a choreographed dance that declares his feelings, so he’ll have to rely on speaking from the heart. That shouldn’t be too difficult…right?

Despite being on a time limit, he’s been sitting outside your house for ten minutes. He can’t seem to move. The fear of rejection and all of this happening so fast has his head spinning. Robin's words echo in his mind and he musters up just enough courage to find his way to your front door, knocking frantically.

“Steve? Shouldn’t you be at work?” your voice is shaky and your eyes are red. You’ve been crying. He’s going to fucking kill that guy. “y/n, what’s wrong?” his eyes soften and his heart constricts. You invite him inside and he follows you to the living room, taking a seat next to you.

“Um, Brad cancelled our date because Missy Tucker asked him out” you laugh, humourlessly. Steve is furious and hates to see you upset, but he can’t help but take this as a sign. Here he was, prepared to stop you from going on that date and all along the universe was on his side. He’s gonna have to send Missy Tucker a thank you card right after he eggs Brad’s beloved car.

“Shit, babe. I’m sorry.” his arm drapes around your shoulder and you melt into his touch. “It’s fine. I didn’t think he was my soulmate or anything. I just wanted to feel pretty and wanted, I guess” you nervously fiddle with Steve’s hand, feeling embarrassed at your admission.

Steve gently grabs your hand, giving it a soft squeeze. “You are pretty and you are wanted”

“I don’t think I am” you whisper. “Are you kidding? You’re the prettiest girl in Hawkins. Shit, probably the world. The nicest, too. You’re always there for me, even when I was an asshole and I don’t know if I’ve ever even thanked you for that. Oh, and you’re funny too, like in a really witty way ‘cause you’re so smart-”

“Steve” you interrupt his endearing ramble “thank you, but you have to say those things. You’re my best friend”

He positions himself on the couch so he can look at you, putting his hand under your chin to tilt your head up so he can see your beautiful eyes. When he looks at you, it’s like he's seeing you for the first time. You aren’t just the girl he met a recess that’s been attached to his hip ever since. You’re the girl that makes him feel on top of the world whenever he’s with you. You’re the girl whose touch makes him putty in your hands. You’re who he sees a future with and he can’t believe it took him this long to figure out.

“Best friend or not, it’s true. All of it” he promises. “Then why has no one ever loved me? Like, been in love with me.”

“You’re wrong” he insists. “Like, really wrong” he huffs out a laugh and you give him a puzzled expression. “When you told me about your date I felt kinda weird about it and I thought I was just being a good friend, ya know? But I think it’s more than that…”

You feel like you’ve stopped breathing. Is he going to say what you think he is? You never thought that he’d feel this way about you. You always believe the feelings you held for him were one-sided, so you pushed it down and replaced them with gentle touches and acts of kindness in hopes that maybe those things could lead to more, but they never did. Not until now.

“What do you mean?” you ask softly. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“I want you to tell me. I need to hear it, Steve. Please”

He takes a deep breath before speaking up again “I wanna give you the huge declaration you deserve. Something like standing outside your window with a boombox and a dozen flowers that are as pretty as you, but I don’t have any of that. I could sing though, if you want?” he jokes and you giggle. “Not necessary. I, um, could go first if you’re nervous” you suggest, even though you don’t think you’ve ever been so nervous in your life. “Yeah, I’d like that”

“I love you, Steve. In fact, I can’t remember a time in my life when I didn’t love you. I don’t need an over the top announcement. I just need to know you feel the same way” You keep your confession simple because the only thing you want to do is shout from the top of your lungs how much you love him.

“I love you too. So much that it’s crazy and scares me a little. I even accidentally flew past a stop sign on my way over here”

“You did not’’ you gasp. “I did and I’d do it again. For you”

He’s looking at you like he has a million times before, but this time it’s different. His eyes flicker down to your lips and you do the same. “Can you kiss me, Stevie?” Fuck, he loves it when you call him that. It makes him weak in the knees, just like everything else that you do.

He lays a hand on your cheek and gives you the cutest grin you’ve ever seen. You both lean in and when he kisses you, you feel lightheaded and giddy. Neither of you can stop smiling, making it difficult to kiss and you both laugh.

“Stop smiling, goof. I wanna kiss you” he whines. “I can’t help it! I’m too happy” you squeal and he practically tackles you, overwhelmed with joy. You lay on the couch with him on top of you, his weight slightly crushing you, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. “Wanna try again?” he nose nudges yours and you cradle his head to gently pull him closer to you as his lips glide over yours in a perfect balance.

Of course, there’s sparks and fireworks, but you also feel at peace. This kiss feels like coming home. You’re right where you’ve always meant to be.

“Do you wanna be my girl?” he asks once he slightly pulls back from you. His face is still very close to yours and you swear that his eyes are shimmering. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted”

Steve tells you at least one hundred times that night that he loves you and you tell him the same. You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of hearing or saying those three words. They just sound so beautiful being muttered in between endless kisses.

the end

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington friends to lovers #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #stranger things fic

1K notes · View notes