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shellshocklove · 2 months

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wet nights | joel miller

pairing/AU: bfd!joel miller x female!reader – no outbreak

summary: getting beer spilled down your dress at your best friend sarah’s birthday party might not have been so bad– not when her dad can help you clean up.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! reader is 25 and joel is 47, reader is described as wearing a dress, swearing, use of pet names, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, exhibitionism, praise with a dash of degradation kink, one small touch of your clit, soft dom!joel, use of sir, cum play, no use of y/n

a/n: mom said it was my turn to write bfd!joel lol. basically this is just me wanting to write joel getting his cock and balls sucked bc it's what he deserves 😌 as always thank you to @dustydaddyyy for reading through this for me! and happy reading <3

main masterlist / ao3

Nodding your head to the beat of the music you gulped down a cooling sip of beer. The bar was stuffed to the brim tonight for Sarah’s birthday. Every chair and booth occupied, large groups huddled together against the walls, and a growing crowd of brave, seemingly deep enough down their drinks, dancers moved across the makeshift dance floor. Leaning against the bar right at the end, you were shielded from the continuous line of people looking for a drink to sate their thirst on this hot summer night.

You’d missed Sarah since graduation. She’d moved back to Austin to be closer to her father – a man you had still to meet even after all these years of knowing Sarah. You’d met in undergrad where you’d had a couple of overlapping classes the first year. She’d been one of those people where you’d just clicked, like a hand in a glove, you two just fit together.

Now you had moved to Austin. It wasn’t exactly planned, but you’d applied to a postgraduate program at the University of Texas, not necessarily thinking you’d get in– but then you had. Sarah had been ecstatic when you’d told her. You hadn’t seen her in person in over a year, but you couldn’t wait to live in the same city as your best friend again.

But first, her 25th birthday party.

Tonight would be your first night out as a new Austinite. Sarah had invited all her closest friends and family to her favorite bar to celebrate. You’d dreaded it a little, you weren’t gonna lie. That nagging anxiety had bubbled under your skin all week at the prospect of being the only one at the party who didn’t know anyone already. Sarah had told you not to worry though when you’d voiced your concern to her a few days ago – she’d introduce you to everyone – nothing to worry about, and she’d been right.

All Sarah’s friends had been extremely friendly and nice, and you’d been taken under their wing immediately. Quickly, your anxiety had melted away, condensing into nothing as you’d started to have a good time.

It was deep into the summer, and Austin had shown itself from its hotter side the last few days. Inside the bar everything ran hot, even with the AC on blast and with the amount of people who’d made their way inside in the last hour, looking for a good time on a Saturday night, it never stood a chance.

Trying to cool off you’d excused yourself from your new group of friends to order yourself a cold beer. One of the ACs blew cold air directly towards the bar, keeping the frantic bartenders cool as they pushed out order after order of drinks. You watched them from where you stood perfectly in the wind of the AC, glass raised to your lips when you felt a hard bump against your shoulder.

“Fuck,” you cursed as your full glass of beer spilled all down your front, staining your white summer dress.

“Shit– sorry, sweetheart.” You didn’t have time to react as your beer was lifted out of your wet hand and placed on the rough wood of the bar.

Looking up from your ruined dress you took in your beer thief as he reached across the bar for some napkins. He was older, forties maybe, maybe older if you were to take the sprinkle of salt and pepper in his hair into consideration, but he was gorgeous. A strong jaw and sculptured nose. Clad in a t-shirt and a dark pair of jeans, you thought he looked casual– not like he belonged to the rest of the birthday party. The material of his t-shirt strained against his bicep as he leaned back from over the bar – a stack of napkins now in his hand. Standing to his full height before you, you noticed just how broad he was, and it made a drop of desire pool in your core.

The man’s previous frantic movements came to a halt as he took you in for the first time; his dark brown eyes rolling down your body and leaving a trail of heat. His fist full of napkins stalled when his eyes landed on your dress, quickly diverting them with a loud clearing of his throat.

“Um– here,” he said, voice strained as he handed you the napkins.

Pulling your eyebrows together in a frown, you looked down at yourself again. The fabric was completely soaked through, and you felt a prickling heat tickle your cheeks as you realized you now looked like a walking ad for a wet t-shirt competition.

“Oh shit,” you muttered, taking the napkins from the man as you tried your best to cover yourself.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart– bumpin’ into ya like that.”

Pressing the napkins to your dress you shook your head at him, “It’s fine– eh,” you looked up from your body.

“Joel,” he introduced himself.

“It’s fine, Joel. It was an accident. I’ll just go to the restroom and try to get the stain out,” you said with a grimace, and reached for more napkins.

“Let me help ya,” he offered as he placed a friendly hand on your elbow.

As Joel guided you through the crowd towards the toilets, hand hovering at a polite distance behind your back, he continued to apologize.

“I feel terrible– let me at least pay for it if it ends up needin’ replacin’.”

Inside the bar’s toilets, you jumped up on the stone countertop lining the wall, turning the closest sink on.

“It’s okay,” you repeated as you busied yourself with trying to clean yourself up, “This isn’t the first time I’ve gotten beer spilled all over me,” you said with a teasing laugh, trying to lighten the mood a little.

Standing beside you with his hip leaning against the stone and a knee popped, Joel huffed out a strained laugh, a laugh somewhere between embarrassment and relief.

“Yeah?” He questioned, eyes falling to your working hands.

“Tell you this much– I’ve had plenty of wet nights.”

A sound escaped Joel at your words, one he quickly tried to cover up with a cough, and you realize your innuendo a second too late. When you looked up from your hands, eyes wide, you noticed that Joel’s cheeks had flushed slightly, like he was embarrassed that he’d even caught onto the innuendo you hadn’t meant to make.

“Oh! No, not like that–” you rushed, tone slightly mortified as your eyes met his, trying very hard not to stutter through the rest of your sentence, “I–uh... I only meant that I uh–... I‘ve had plenty of situations in which I’ve gotten wet–”

At this sentence, Joel raised his eyebrows in a look that seemed half-surprised, half-amused, and your stomach dropped even further into your ass in embarrassment.

“–with water!” you clarified quickly, before you scrunched up your nose in embarrassment, closing your eyes as you huffed out a laughing sigh, “There’s no way I’m getting out of this gracefully, is there?”

You heard Joel’s chuckle to your side, deep and syrupy, like the stuff you’d liked to pour over your pancakes in buckets when you were a kid.

“You’d have gotten away with it if you hadn’t started explainin’, I think,” Joel told you, his tone joking, and you chuckled bashfully, nodding before you looked up at him.

There was a moment in which you exchanged a look, before you felt the smile break over your face and you dissolved into embarrassed laughter, shaking your head as Joel laughed, too.

“Off to a great start,” you muttered in between chuckles, “First week in Austin and I’m already making passes at handsome strangers in bar bathrooms.”

“I never said I was complainin’,” Joel said jokingly, and you let out a chuckle, “First week in Austin, hm?”

“Yeah,” you said with a nod, “Here for a postgrad.”

“Smart and beautiful,” he mused, “Reckon I should spill beers more often if this is what I get in return.”

Delicate wings fluttered in your tummy at his words as a feeling of excitement filled your chest. Looking up at him with a raised teasing eyebrow you said, “Not sure spilling beer on someone is the tried and tested formula.”

“Well, that depends, really,” Joel answered back in a teasingly contemplating voice, “‘s it workin’ on you?”

Your stomach dropped slightly at his words, and when your eyes moved to meet his, he was looking at you with a look that made your insides burn.

“Maybe,” you told him with a teasing smile pulling at the corners of your mouth.

You were never usually this bold, but there was something in the way he was looking at you and the syrup-y tone of his voice. You could tell he knew what he was doing, knew exactly what to say, and you wanted more. Biting down on your bottom lip coquettishly, you leaned backwards on your arms, giving Joel a full view of the soaked front of your dress, and more specifically, everything he could see underneath.

“And what works on you, Joel?”

You watched with some satisfaction as Joel's eyes ran over the length of your chest, before he quickly redirected them to your eyes.

“You’re making it very hard to be a gentleman here, sweetheart,” he almost whispered, his eyes as dark as the Austin summer night sky. You gave a noncommitted shrug as a teasing smile tugged at your lips. Then, you leaned forward so that you were closer to him, feet dangling slightly.

“I never asked you to be,” you told him, your voice low but not quite a whisper as you looked up at him through your lashes.

Behind your rib cage your heart quickened with excitement as Joel’s darkening gaze bored into yours, and you knew you him right where you wanted him. His eyes danced over your face for a moment, before they flickered down to your lips. It almost made you stop breathing for a second, the tension in the air between you so thick you could cut it with a knife. There was just something about this man, something about Joel – and in this moment you wanted him more than you’d ever wanted anyone before.

Maybe it should’ve scared you, the speed at which you’d fallen under his spell (or was it the other way around?), but right now, with Joel’s darkening eyes staring into yours, you couldn't bring yourself to feel any fear. You could only look at him, could only feel his breath fanning over your lips and the intensity of his gaze on your face.

“You’re trouble, aren’t ya?” Joel’s voice was low, not quite a whisper, but full of deep bass.

You felt the expanse of his hand fall on your bare knee, rough and calloused over where your sundress had ridden up.

“Nothing you can’t handle.” You batted your eyelashes semi-innocently, spreading your thighs slightly, which made Joel’s mouth twitch in amusement.

“’s that so, darlin’?” He asked, taking his place between your legs, your face now only inches from his as he looked down at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Mhm,” you nodded slightly, your hand falling over his to guide it slowly up your thigh, “Don’t you wanna find out?”

As Joel’s index finger made contact with the side seam of your underwear, he closed the space between you and pressed his lips against yours. The hairs of his mustache tickled your cupid’s bow as he dove deeper, lips rolling over yours. You sat up slightly when his other hand wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer to him, your core rubbing up against his growing bulge. You whimpered against his lips at the contact, and Joel inhaled it, consuming every breathy moan and whimper.

His hand slid slowly downwards to your ass where he gave it a nice squeeze, pulling you even closer when your legs came up to wrap around his waist. He licked at your lower lip hungrily, and you opened yourself up to him to allow him to deepen the kiss. It was hot, and suffocating, and all-consuming, all at the same time. He was a great kisser, probably the best you’d kissed. His lips moved expertly over yours, soft and firm at the same time as he guided you through it.

The grip on your ass tightened again and soon you were half-way to hanging off the counter as he rocked his front steadily against your core, where your arousal had started to pool. The kisses turned needier then, shorter and desperate between quiet whines. You could feel the shape of him against you, hard and thick, and big. A wave of tickling arousal washed over you as you imagined yourself on your knees before him, the weight and taste of him on your tongue. He was so fucking hot, and you wanted him so fucking badly.

“Can I suck your cock?” you panted through frantic kisses.

Joel pulled back slightly, head tipped back to find your eyes.

“You wanna suck my cock?” he asked, a hint of surprise in his voice. You only nodded, head tipping slowly with the bite of your lip.

Joel tsk-ed, “Dirty girl,” he said and rocked his hard bulge against your core, which earned him a moan. It made a wicked grin spread across his face, like he’d just proved a point.

His hands left your body as he slowly stepped backwards – that same cocky grin adorning his features as he nodded towards one of the stalls. Jumping off the countertop, you almost tripped over your feet to follow him inside.

“Relax, baby– ain’t no need to get on your knees until after we’re inside,” he teased, holding the door open for you, bicep bulging against the fabric of his t-shirt. Fuck, he looked so hot.

“Ha-ha,” you fake-laughed at him with a teasing roll of your eyes as you stepped past him and into the bathroom stall. When the door clicked behind him, followed by the unmistakable sound of the lock turning, you felt a pair of strong hands land on your hips as he pressed his body against your back.

“I’m only teasin’,” he reassured you in your ear, his breath fanning over the shell and sending a tingle down your spine. Turning around in his hold, your own teasing smile spread across your face as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Yeah?” you queried with the raise of an eyebrow, “Well two can play that game, sir” you teased as you slowly sunk to your knees, missing the way Joel reacted to the title you’d assigned him.

From above Joel watched you, body relaxed and composed like he wasn’t about to get his dick sucked, but the lust in his eyes gave him away. Your teeth caught on your bottom lip as you fumbled with his belt, the sound of metal clinking bouncing off the tiles as you focused on popping the button on his jeans and pulling the zipper down. You couldn’t take your eyes off the shape of him hidden behind the denim, and it made your mouth water, your thighs squeezing together. You were mesmerized as you let your pointer finger run over the covered length of him, the cotton fabric of his boxer briefs soft under your fingertips.

For a moment, you couldn’t believe what you were about to do – suck a man you’d just met less than an hour ago off in the bathroom stall of some dingy bar? But then again, something excited you about it.

Maybe it was Joel? Or maybe it was the thrill of it all– of maybe getting caught?

“Go on, darlin’, it’s okay– be a good girl n’ take it out f’me,” Joel ordered from above, his voice dropping an octave. You looked up at him, caught the way he studied you, gauging your every move and reaction.

Then something shifted in his eyes, a flash of insecurity making its presence known, “Or don’t– we can stop f’you want– if you ain’t feelin’ it anymore.”

You shook your head before he’d even finished his sentence. God, no! You sure as hell didn’t want to stop.

“I wanna keep going, Joel,” you smiled, your fingers hooking into the elastic band of his boxer briefs.

A genuine smile bloomed across his face then, his rough hand coming down to cup your chin, “That’s good, baby,” he said, swiping his thumb slowly over your skin, before he leaned down to press a chaste kiss to your lips.

“Know you’ll be good f’me, won’t you?” he whispered against your lips, drawing a breathy whine from you at the praise.

“Yes,” you sighed, almost breathless as he kissed you again quickly before he murmured against your lips, “Yes, you will, darlin’– you’re gonna choke on my cock ‘n thank me for it, won’t ya?”

He was driving you mad with all these questions. In just a few minutes, this man had turned you inside out, pushed every button to turn you on– you were practically swimming in your panties, your mind clouded in hazy arousal.

You didn’t know what to do, and not thinking clearly, you chased his lips.

“Nuh-uh,” Joel chuckled, pulling away slightly, “lemme hear you say it, sweetheart.”

“Yes,” you sighed again, “thank you for giving me your cock.”

“Thank you for giving me your cock, what?”

This manwas relentless.

“Thank you for giving me your cock, sir?” you tried, teeth nibbling on your bottom lip.

Pleased, a satisfied grin pulled at Joel’s lips. He rewarded you with a quick kiss before he pulled away, standing to his full height again.

You couldn’t wait any longer, you needed to touch him. Hooking your fingers into the elastic band of his boxer briefs again, you slowly pulled them down, revealing inch by inch of the base of his fat cock.

He was big, and the sight made your mouth water, but what excited you the most was the weight of his heavy balls.

“Fuck,” you whispered, eyes wide with fascination.

His hand found the back of your neck in a grounding hold as he guided you closer, your lips bumping against his tip. “Give it a kiss, baby… just like that,” he praised as you did exactly what he wanted, placing a kiss to his cock the same way you’d kissed his lips.

Over you, you could hear Joel release a content breathy chuckle, “That’s so good, baby, such a good girl.”

Egged on by his praises, you shifted a little on your knees, steadying your hands on his thighs as you pooled a blob of spit in your mouth that you let drip down the head. Joel watched you intensely as you used your dominant hand to slowly work the spit over his length, earning yourself a strained grunt. He grew even harder in your hand as you familiarized yourself with the weight and size of him in your hand.

“Wanna taste it, sir,” you said and placed another soft kiss to the head, swiping your tongue over the slit to taste the precum that had started to pearl.

“Yeah?” he taunted, almost degrading, “You wanna taste my cock that badly?”

“Y-yes,” you whined, looking up at him through your lashes.

Joel watched you for a beat before he tapped at the hand wrapped around him, shooing it away as he fisted himself. “Open wide then, honey, ‘f you want it that bad,” he said, slapping his cock against the side of your face.

Your mouth dropped open in an instance as Joel stuffed his cock inside your mouth slowly. You opened up as wide as you possibly could, relaxing your jaw to accommodate the size of him in your mouth. It was a wide stretch, and the tip touched the back of your throat far too soon, making you gag around the head.

He pulled back to let you breathe for a moment, before he sunk back down your throat again, a large and grounding hand resting at the back of your head. The second time you were more prepared to take him, holding him in your throat for a few moments longer before you started to gag. Over you, Joel let out a strained grunt; the noise sending a bolt of arousal straight to your core.

After that, Joel let you take the lead.

You started out slow, taking the head into your mouth as you let your spit-covered fingers glide over his shaft in an experimental tug. Under your fist, a slick sound echoed off the tiles with every jerk of his cock. You made sure his cock was thoroughly coated in your spit as you set a steady rhythm. You let your tongue glide over the underside of his tip, his hips bucking when you dipped your tongue into the slit.

It was sloppy, and wet, and the noises coming from your throat were entirely too obscene as you started bobbing your head, taking him down your throat.

“That’s a good girl,” Joel praised you, helping guide his cock down your throat with the hand resting at the back of your head. “You love suckin’ cock, don’t you? Love havin’ a big cock fill up that tight throat?”

Suddenly, you heard the muted music coming from the bar grow louder before dying again at the sound of the door slamming shut. You stilled your movements in panic as you heard someone slip into the stall to your right. Your eyes met Joel as you slipped his cock out your mouth, but to your surprise he looked far from concerned about the new audience.

Stretching his neck he turned his head in the direction of the occupied stall, while he wrapped his fist around the base of his cock. Even in his hands it looked big, and you started to wonder how you’d ever managed to fit it down your throat. A beat passed before he turned his head to look at you again, a wicked grin coating his lips as he bobbed his cock in your face, rubbing the head over your closed lips before he slapped it lightly against your cheek.

“Open up,” he mouthed with another light slap to your cheek. His actions made a tingle of arousal spread throughout your body, and you realized in shock how much the thought of getting caught turned you on.

You did as Joel said and opened your mouth for him to feed you his cock again. He watched you very closely this time, letting you ease yourself down his cock at your own pace, trying your best to be quiet. When the very tip of your nose made contact with the thatch of coarse dark hair at the base and your lips were snug around his cock, Joel couldn’t help himself. The grounding hand at the back of your head held you down as he shoved himself as deep as he possibly could down your throat, his balls bouncing against your chin at the movement.

To your right you heard the unmistakable sound of a toilet being flushed and a lock being twisted. Your eyes welled up with tears, your vision fogging over as you tried your best to fight against your gag reflex. Over you, Joel watched you with a proud smirk on his lips. When the sound of the sink turning on echoed through the restroom, you allowed a whimpering gag to escape you as you squeezed your eyes shut.

It shouldn’t have turned you on as much as it did, but the thrill of getting caught choking on an older man’s cock, a man who was essentially a stranger, made you wonder if you could come untouched. You were so close already, just a flick of your clit would send you off the edge of bliss.

Your eyes were about to roll back into your head when Joel finally pulled back. You gasped violently for air at the exact moment the door opened, filling the toilets with loud music for a moment before you and Joel were locked away again in your own little world. Like you were on autopilot, your hand slipped between your thighs to find your clit, and soon you were withering with your orgasm.

“Oh, there you go, honey, come all over those fingers f’me, just like that,” you heard Joel say, though the force of your orgasm made it seem like he was far away, like your ears were filled with cotton.

When you finally calmed down, you steadied yourself with a tug at Joel’s jeans – the fabric rough under your fingertips. Over you Joel fisted his cock as he watched you with a wild look in his eyes.

“Goddamn, baby, you’re so fuckin’ hot comin’ like that just from gettin’ your throat fucked.”

“Thank you, sir,” you managed to let out, your voice strained and hoarse.

Realizing he must’ve been close, you sat up straighter on your knees, ready to pull him off the edge too. Leaning forward, you stuck out your tongue, licking a fat strip up the seam of his balls to the underside of his shaft. His cock jumped in his hand as Joel let out a breathy laugh.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he muttered, “Look me in the eyes honey– look me in the eyes when you lick my balls.” Joel jerked his cock above your face as you continued to lick at his heavy balls – your eyes locked with his.

“Look so fuckin’ pretty like this,” he choked out through groans, “Suck on ‘em, baby, suck on my balls.”

Blinking up at him you tried your best to fit one of them in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and sucking greedily and lapping at the skin, before you moved on to treat the other with the same amount of love.

Joel’s mouth dropped open in a gape, his breath coming out quicker and more staggered. He squeezed himself harder at the base with each jerk before skating his thumb over the swollen head, massaging it.

“Fuck,” he panted, “I’m gonna come, baby, I’m gonna fuckin’ come.”

Popping his balls from your mouth you hurriedly sat up in front of him, the tip off his cock brushing over the plump of your bottom lip with every thug of his cock.

“Please, sir,” you begged, “Please, come in my mouth.”

Joel wasn’t one to deny your request, especially not when you were sat so pretty in front of him with your tongue sticking out.

A second later, Joel shoved his cock in your mouth and came – balls drawn tight as he shot his load down your throat. The force of it made you gag a little at first, the restriction around his sensitive cock only making him come harder. He groaned above you as you sucked him dry, before he pulled back when it was too much, and caught his breath.

“Say Ah,” he said, a gentle but firm hand cupping your jaw. The squeeze of his fingers made your mouth drop open to reveal the cum coated on your tongue and where it pooled at the back of your throat. “Don’t swallow– Let me see, darlin’.”

Your smile fought against his grip. Sticking your tongue out the best you could, you let him see the state he’d left you in; chin coated in saliva, tears starting to dry on your cheeks, mouth puffy and fucked, and marked in this stranger’s cum.

“Pretty as a picture,” he tutted before he let go of your jaw, and with a pat to your cheek finally gave you permission to swallow.

After that it was like the spell had broken between you. Joel helped you to your feet, both of you giggling when your legs wobbled like a foal unsteady on its feet. He held you upright with a strong hand to your waist, while the other one traveled up the length of your body to cup your face, and bring it closer to place a slow and sensual kiss to your lips.

“Would you believe me if I told you I’d never done anything like that before?” You asked him a moment later as he helped you clean your face by the sink.

Joel gave you a look in the mirror.

“You don’t?” you exclaimed.

Joel gave you an infuriatingly casual shrug, “It ain’t your first time suckin’ dick that’s for sure,” he teased with a pinch to your side which made you jump.

Giving him a playful shove, you said, “I’m not lying! I’ve never had a one-night stand.”

“Well, the night’s still young,” Joel joked, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and dipping his head to place a soft kiss to the column of your neck.

You leaned into his touch, feeling the soft grip of his hands on your body, and the soft presses of his kisses as you watched the two of you in the mirror. You found that you liked the reflection looking back at you, and if you were lucky, you hoped he liked it too; maybe enough to want to see you again.

“I can’t go back out there like this,” you said after a moment.

Your dress had finally dried, but so had the beer – staining it yellow.

Joel lifted his head from your neck to rest his chin on your shoulder as his eyes scanned your body in the mirror.

“I have a flannel in my truck I can borrow you?”

“More layers in this heat?” you questioned, already sweating at the thought.

A wide grin spread across Joel’s face, full of mischief, “I guess I’ll just have to take ‘em off of you later, then.”

Turning around in his hold, you wrapped your hands around his neck, your fingers toying with the hair curling at his neck as you met his eyes. “That doesn’t sound so bad,” you whispered, painfully aware of the wet stain of arousal soiling your panties and sticking to your cunt.

“No, it doesn’t,” Joel hummed, his eyes crinkling as he smiled.

“Wanna get out of here?” you asked and brushed your lips over his.

A moment later Joel guided you out the restrooms with a protective hand resting at the small of your back. Weaving through the crowd, you’d made your way almost to the exit when you heard a shout of your name over the music.

“There you are!” Sarah shouted again as she moved through the crowd towards you and Joel, arms reached out to the sky.

“Oh! And you’ve finally met my dad!”

i hope this was okay and that someone liked this? as always feedback as a comment, in the tags, as an ask or reply is very much appreciated, and they make me super happy! <3 i'm very curious to hear your thoughts about this! <3

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us smut #tlou fanfiction #tlou smut #bfd!joel miller #dom!joel miller #pedro pascal #*writing

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drysdalesworld · 3 months

Note

i loved what you wrote about the boys with super energetic kids but what about them with kids who are the complete opposite? like a very shy, quiet kid

them with a shy, quiet child

i was planning on doing this anyway but i love that you asked for it bc i wasn’t too sure if anyone else wanted that as well. hope you enjoy! <3

the boys with a shy & quiet kid (+ x fem!reader)

the boys with a shy, quiet daughter:

JACK HUGHES

— is so patient & gentle with her it’s crazy

— ^ like he’s so careful with his words when speaking to her & always makes sure that she’s comfortable

— speaks for her when she’s too shy to speak. like when the three of you are out at a restaurant & she’s too shy to tell the waiter what she wants, he’ll do it for her & always makes sure to ask her exactly what she wants beforehand so there’s no mistakes when ordering

— holds her hand when she gets anxious & squeezes it a couple of times to make sure she knows that he’s there for her

— she much prefers you over jack due to how calmer you are as a person but he doesn’t mind at all. if anything, he’s glad that she’s able to find solace in the reader as he can only imagine how hard it is to be shy & quiet as a child

— he genuinely tries to be more calmer & quiet in her presence. it’s a work in progress

— jack often finds himself going to quinn for advice on how to do better with his daughters shy & quietness. he only wants to do good by his daughter & it shows in his actions

— encourages her to speak her truth & speak up for herself when needed. he knows that it’s a hard thing to do but he encourages it by practicing & setting an example with reader as they both openly communicate how they feel to each other

— will literally wear a princess dress to the movies if a new disney movie comes out & she decides it’s her new favorite princess & wants to dress up. he has no shame

— during the summers, he makes sure to lather her in sunscreen. he’s deathly afraid of her burning so he goes the extra mile

— ^ tries to convince her to go wake boarding with him but she always says no. until a couple of weeks into the summer months, she finally agrees & has a blast as jack holds her tightly & does all these cool spins & tricks on the board

— he 100% always joins the readers & their daughters nap times when he gets back home from morning skate. the sight of the two of you wrapped up & cuddled around each other is so cute & makes his heart melt

— jack makes sure to give her a puck before every home game & blows her a kiss before skating off. he also makes sure to dedicate his second goal to her, his first dedicated to you always

KIRBY DACH

— she’s so small in comparison to kirby it’s insane

— he always holds her close wherever they go together. since you both live in montréal, & it’s cold, he always bundles her up so it’s quite funny to see him carrying just a ball of wrapped baby

— kirby’s so much more gentler & quieter with her. he can definitely tell when she’s having a more quiet day & is the best in making her comfortable

— 100% tries to help with her shyness by signing her up in sports or other activities to try to get her out of her shell

— ^ you once suggested summer camp & kirby was super hesitant about it but she ended up loving it so much that she couldn’t wait for the next summer. kirby lowkey felt sad at that bc all he wants to do is spend time with his baby girl & her going off nearly every summer for however many weeks just goes to show how much she’s growing

— whenever she gets nervous or eerily quiet, he holds out his hand for her & just dance around with her. it never fails to put a smile on her face & always gets her out of her funk

— kirby made her a bracelet when she was younger & she wore the shit out of it. it’s now just string but she always played with it whenever she got nervous or approached a new person at school in hopes of being their friend. she still carries it around with her for comfort

— is so supportive in whatever she does

— ^ she wants to play pickleball instead of hockey? he’s already checking out all the gear she’ll need. decides last minute to wear a princess dress instead of her school uniform? he’s asking her which dress she wants. she wants to try to make a friend by herself at the park? he’s sitting back & observing w/ a smile on his face

— kirby’s very big on communication so he always makes sure to check in on her & her feelings. it’s gotten to the point where she’ll just tell you how she feels instead of reader or kirby having to ask

— is also the type of dad to have matching costumes with his daughter

— ^ one year they went as (pink) kirby & princess daisy. it was so fucking cute. it’s one of your lock screens in your phone hehe

— is the one to wake her up in the morning & ease any anxiety she has about school or making new friends

— ^ he’ll brush back the hair from her face & softly speak to her as she voices her concerns & he’s so good at proving that she has nothing to be afraid of. he also makes sure that she’s confident in whatever she wears so kirby allows her to choose her outfits (she’s a little fashionista fr)

NICO HISCHIER

— mans will be the gentlest giant with her

— ^ cuddles 24/7 & nothing but affirmations from this man

— he can understand how hard it is to be so shy & quiet so he always tries his best to make little goals with his daughter in hopes of breaking her out of her shell

— ^ he’ll ask her what she wants to achieve that day on their way to school. it can be anything ranging from making a flower crown to asking someone to play with her during playtime. he’s always so proud of her when she runs up to him after school with the biggest smile on her face, telling him what she achieved that day

— nico’s heart always warms whenever he sees reader & their daughter together. she’s a lot like you & he’s so proud & thankful that he’s been blessed with this kind of life

— encourages her to go to practices with him whenever she’s allowed to

— is def the dad to be up on the stage with his daughter during her ballerina recital

— takes her to new places for exposure & although it’s nerve racking for the both of them, it’s something that neither of them will forget bc of the fun memories

— she does eventually “grow out” of being quiet & shy. she’s got a lot more tools to work with when she’s anxious or feeling shy & nico is always there to help her whenever she needs it

— plays with her hair when he sees that she’s going back into her shell

— ^ he allows her to do so most days but he knows the importance of building up your confidence when young & making friends so he plays with her hair for a bit while he talks to her to bring back up her mood. it usually works

— 100% the one to talk to her about her anxieties & make her feel better about them after

— nico tries everything to get her more out of her shell. he puts her into sports he thinks she’ll enjoy. makes sure she goes to her classmates birthday parties. all that stuff with different goals in mind so even if she doesn’t make a new friend, she’ll still have something to be proud of herself for

TREVOR ZEGRAS

— tbh, he has no clue what to do lol

— he’s learned a great amount of patience with his daughter

— he def tries to understand why she’s so quiet & shy. this leads him to reading about it more & seeking out answers on what he could do to accommodate her more

— trev 100% had to go to jamie for help since they’re both alike in personality. he’s such a big help

— will do anything to protect her & make sure she’s comfortable

— ^ whether that be in his arms or by herself, he’s ready to do whatever

— practices speaking up for herself. trevor will be so much more talkative about how he feels & what he’s doing throughout the day w/ her that she’ll eventually pick up on it & do it herself

— ^ if she’s not confident enough to verbalize it, she’ll write it & sometimes he & her go back & forth with letters. reader got the whole family a notebook so they all can communicate through that if verbalizing it is too hard

— mans literally shed a tear when she made her first friend

— the entire ducks team adore her

— let’s her take the reins in some things. it gives her the confidence to do things for herself & he can see the change in her behavior when she has more control over certain choices

— if she’s feeling shy or anxious, trevor will suggest they play hide ‘n seek or another game to get her mind off things or to simply just make her laugh & have a good time

— always on high energy when he wakes her up & sometimes she bounces off him with it but most often, she doesn’t so he has to check himself a lot & be a lot more calmer around her in the morning

the boys with a shy, quiet son:

JAMIE DRYSDALE

— is so happy to have a kid just like him. he literally looks just like jamie & acts like him it’s kind of eerie

— before jamie leaves for morning skate, he always presses a kiss to the crown of his sons forehead, whispering a promise of coming back & waking him up for breakfast

— ^ jamie takes great pleasure in waking up your son every morning after he returns from morning skate. he just looks so cute with his dark hair all sprawled about, still wiping the sleep from his eyes as he reaches out for his dad. jamie always chuckled to himself as he takes his son into his arms & rubs his back soothingly, making his way out to the kitchen where you are

— you & jamie are one of the only people your son plays with so it’s always a hassle to try to encourage him to play with other children his age

— ^ the one time it works is when jamie took him to the park & started talking to one of the other dads there. his son saw him talking to someone new so he decided that if his dad can do it, then so can he. he made two friends that day & they regularly go on play dates

— you always encourage both jamie & your son to be more friendly & talkative as you know it would most likely help them break out of their shells a little bit

— he put your son into hockey in hopes of him coming out of his shell a little bit & it def worked. jamie sometimes has to drag your son off of the ice bc he doesn’t want to leave just yet

— he’s really only friendly to certain people like trevor or mason since he’s known them since he could remember. it’s just other people he’s super hesitant about but both him & jamie are working on it together!

— loves loves holding him & taking him everywhere

— he always talks to him too about whatever & his son usually responds talking about something random. it’s how he developed his rambling habit whenever he meets new kids lol

— when he got traded, jamie was really nervous to see how your son reacted to the change since it was so sudden & abrupt. but he surprisingly took it really well. he even said hi to some of the other players after the game, head buried into readers collarbone as he waved to those walking passed him

— ^ the flyers def love your son & always include him on their “barking”. once he gets comfortable enough, he just kind of screams instead of barking but the whole team just eats it up & loves it, cheering him on

LUKE HUGHES

— he & his son are one in the same

— ^ they have the same facial expressions for everything & it’s too funny when they overhear someone saying some random shit & make the exact same face

— your son may be shy & quiet but he’s also calm & mellow. he speaks through his eyes & facial expressions

— ^ has a rbf & is not afraid to use it (especially if someone’s bothering him or you lol)

— reader 100% believes that her son is an old soul & is just done with living. like little dude barely tries to make friends (granted he is shy & it’s a little difficult for him) & just doesn’t have much to say & when he does, he has you reevaluating your life after a conversation

— lukes fav thing to do with his son is put a shit ton of blankets on the couch, make a fort, & watch his favorite movies while snacking on mac n cheese & homemade cookies. they do it nearly every night luke’s home

— he’s super gentle & patient with him as he tries to navigate his shyness. luke encourages him to make friends but doesn’t pressure him at all & also puts him into sports in hopes that he makes them naturally through that

— ^ & it does work! he’s made so many friends through hockey, soccer, baseball, etc.. although he is still quite shy & quiet during his games, which he is actively working on

— whispers to him when he’s overwhelmed & rubs his back in comfort as his son crawls into his arms

— puts him to bed & reads him bedtime stories

— at the lake house, luke is ever the more observant & cautious with his son. he makes sure to put sunscreen on him & that he always has his hat on to protect him from the sun

— ^ when he asked luke if he could go wake boarding with him, he nearly squealed in excitement. his son doesn’t really feel comfortable trying new things so this is a HUGE step in the right direction. holds onto him so tight as he giggles whenever luke does tricks. he has such a blast

QUINN HUGHES

— these two are a mirror image of each other it’s insane

— ^ ellen pointed it out to you a few weeks after you had given birth & you can’t unsee it (your son & quinn are twinsies fr)

— even tho his son is shy, he highly encourages him to make some friends in pre-k but assures him that he should take it day by day & that he’ll always love him no matter what

— definitely tries to make him less anxious by taking him in his arms & giving him raspberries in his neck or on his stomach. it helps take his mind off of whatever he was thinking about

— his son always wants to see him right after quinn’s games, which isn’t always possible so sometimes he has him join him for interviews. just quinns presence makes his son calm

— ^ quinns def encouraged him to answer or speak into the mic & his son is always a blushing mess after he says hi into it, hiding his face in the crook of quinns neck as everyone awes

— quinn always has a hand on his son. whether it be on top of his curly hair or on his back as his soothingly rubs it. he always has to have a hand on your son as quinn knows that he’s his son safe person. it makes the both of them feel better

— always tries to include him in everything (when it’s appropriate) so he’ll def bring him to events or practices. it exposes him to more things & it eases his sons anxiety with stuff like that

— 100% does arts & crafts with him. it’s so fucking cute istg

— when he’s old enough to understand certain words, quinn will tell him about his struggles with being a quiet child as well. he wants his son to know that he’s not alone & never is

— gets him a bear that has a voice recorder in it with the both of you saying “we love you bud! you got this!” that he plays every morning & it 100% makes him feel better about whatever he was worried about

— his son’s biggest cheerleader fr

— ^ the loudest you will ever hear quinn be is at his sons sports game or when he gets an award. he’s so proud of him & all of his progress, no matter how great or small

LUCA FANTILLI

— is off the walls ecstatic to just have a child really

— loves him either way

— luca is definitely his sons safe person so luca always has him in his arms or has a hand on his head as he clings onto his leg

— always refers to him as “buddy” or “my little buddy”, which gets him out of his shell sometimes since he wants to be just like his dad

— so so patient & understanding

— ^ will sit by his son as he’s trying to express himself without feeling nervous & lets him take his time. also helps him through his emotions as well

— encourages him to practice his “social skills” on him so he can remember what to say or do when he wants to make a new friend

— takes him to practice when allowed & just lets him chill or play around with the pucks

— ^ the entire umich team loves loves your son & although he is shy, they always make an effort to talk to him or fist bump him every time they skate by him. they respect his boundaries 100% too

— ^^ monday questions with him is always 50/50. sometimes he’ll be up for it & other times he won’t. but when he is, he’s so cute & giggly as he answers the question (most definitely copying his dads answer)

— reader is the one to wake him up more often than not & he much prefers it that way. you’re much calmer than luca at times so your son loves to just cuddle up to you as you pick him up & make your way to the kitchen where luca is making breakfast

— luca has him do the “shakes” whenever he’s feeling anxious about something

— ^ he told his son that it helps with getting the nerves out & he’ll absolutely just start shaking his arms or whole body out of nowhere to get rid of them

— the king at back rubs fr

— gets all papa bear when he hears from his sons teacher that some kids were making fun of him for being so quiet. luca literally gives a stern talking to to their parents & tells his son that bullies only do that to make themselves feel better since they feel “bad/insecure” about themselves. him being shy & quiet is something that he shouldn’t be ashamed of as it is apart of him & luca & reader love every inch of their son, no matter what

— posts “ootd” stories on his insta & hypes up his son as he poses & giggles

— always makes sure to shower his son in praise whenever he achieves a goal or makes a new friend. he’s so excited for his little buddy & his progress!

COLE CAUFIELD

— is surprisingly good at this for some reason

— knows all the tricks to encourage his son to get out of his shell & interact with others

— ^ you’re suspicious of him sometimes bc whatever he does or suggests always works. it’s like he’s psychic or something

— if he’s not having a good day, cole will gather his son in his arms & hold his close to his chest. sometimes he even puts his sweatshirt over him as he’s wearing it so he feels even safer

— cole throws ice cream parties whenever his son makes a new friend or talks to someone for longer than five minutes

— ^ you think it’s a bit excessive but start to see the progress he’s making in breaking through his shell so you don’t stop cole from continuing to throw them. you eventually find it super cute & heartfelt

— def encourages him to find something he’s passionate about to take his mind off whatever he’s feeling anxious about. sports is something he wants to try so cole sort of threw him into whatever sport he thought he’d enjoy

— ^ soccer is something your son enjoys as communication has to be constant between all the players & it encourages him to be more vocal

— is really good at implementing coping techniques/mechanisms for his son if he ever needs them. lowkey a therapist fr (he’s got extensive knowledge about this shit that you sometimes wonder what cole would be like as an actual therapist)

— gets super excited when he does something out of his comfort zone & makes sure his son knows how proud of him he is

— is super patient & understanding

— it’s a tradition for cole to take him to practice once or twice a month (or week) & the boys absolutely love your son!

— ^ little dude is a completely different person on the ice it’s insane. all of his shyness & quiet tendencies disappear & he just has so much fun that it sometimes makes cole tear up with pride & happiness

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thecatchat · 5 months

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Ace the bat hound becomes a ghost dog because he's such a good boy and dedicated to justice. Inspired off of this post here.

But, instead of being found out by Danny, it's the batfam's usual mystic contacts, like Constantine, that discover and reunite Ace and the Bats. Constantine muttering about how annoyingly resilient the particular brand of ghost is. From the infinite realms, Ghosts from there are a headache and a half to get rid of but portals, information, and really anything about it is far and few between since no one's been able to get into contact since some fight a couple centuries ago (Dark being sealed away). Justice Leauge Dark promises to let the family know if they hear anything or find any relevant information about the Infinite Realms, but since literally nothing has been heard from them in so long, no one really knows anything off the top of their head about it.

While Ace is technically supposed to be hidden away at home, he ends up sneaking along one day to help deal with Joker after the clown kidnaps Nightwing and/or Robin (Damian). The photos and videos of the event are blurry and smudged, but word of mouth gets around, and soon, the entirety of Gotham is celebrating the return of Bat Hound the Ghost, the very good boy back from the grave.

Meanwhile, things are going great for the family, just having Ace back makes everyone feel just a bit better (because Ace is a full ghost with a core and is helping to filter the currupt ectoplasm called Lazarus Water with physical touch). Jason is over more often and enjoys flopping on the couch with Ace for a quick snooze, Dick is over the moon to fight with Ace by his side again, Damian makes sure Ace is properly introduced to the rest of the animals that live at the mansion, Tim actually falls asleep semi-regularly now after Ace starts bothering him about being awake, and everyone else is reaping the benefits of having a bat trained dog that seems to be able to sniff out when they need a dog to pet.

Then these guys in white show up.

Ace had seemingly been on edge all night and when it was time to turn in for the night and let Signal come out for the day, Ace follows along, not listening to any command to stay home. Some of the others stay ready in the cave but they let Signal and Ace go out with the promise to call the moment something big happens.

Now, up until then, Ace's powers had been tallied up to: intangibility, invisibility, and occasional hovering/heightened jump. Every other exercise responded out as normal dog (except for the whole being dead thing). Maybe slightly higher emotional intelligence, but some dogs are just Like That. Through some tests, they do find that Ace has a new found hatred of Lazarus Water, but they don't find any obvious weakness that isn't a banishment spell which is as worrying as it is a relief.

So when these white suits start shooting using guns that glow the same green as Ace in Signals' vision and the shoots hit? Ace yelps in pain before seemingly barking out some kind of energy ball? And barreling into a wall so hard it cracked from another shot? Every single alarm that Signal can think to trip gets set off.

But not before one of the suits (one of the many suits, they're terrible fighters but there's just so many of them and two of them) takes out something that looks like a thermos and points it at Ace.

Within a second, Ace is gone.

Signal is so shocked he almost gets hit himself by the dozens of shots of energy blasts now aimed at him. He can't get to the white van in time before it speeds off.

----

I'm going to end this part here. I'm going to continue this in the reblogs but I also want people to take a crack at this story themselves! If you're inspired by this please put your thoughts or stories in the reblogs or tags!

#dpxdc #ace the bathound #dcxdc #dp x dc prompt #continued in a reblog #feel free to continue

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flowershines · 4 months

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Closer Party Pooper

Summary: Being the 8th member of Enhypen means that you get to spend time with people that actually make you feel special but little does everyone know that during most of those times your on your knees in front of them as you pleasuring them everyday.

Warnings: Smut, drinking, arguing, nicknames, parties, drunk man groping Y/n, dirty talk, (lmk if i missed any)

Sounds of people talking and music filled the area around you as you felt compressed between fifty to maybe a hundred bodies around you, one foot after the other you led yourself to a hallway that contained a line of people heading towards the bathroom on the opposite side of the door there was a bucket. Two options filled your mind knowing the reason why that bucket is there while both reasons wanted to make you puke causing you to make a disgusted face as you turn around to face a guy with a cup in his hand, “sorry” you told the man as you swiftly moved passed him as you started to walk around the house trying to find your friends. Drunken bodies filled every room you walked into as you inspecting each room carefully you found multiple people tongue tied with one another as couples makeout on the couches, the smell of beer flowed through your body turning around a tall figure who had a crowd of girls swooning at his every move was playing beer pong behind you the whole time you stood there.

“Y/n, come take my spot gonna get another drink.” Walking towards the man you knew from the voice it was Heeseung, usually wherever he went the crowd of girls followed him so seeing the pile of girls surrounding just this one man only meant there was no other man but him. “Is the beer not in front of you not enough?” You asked him sarcastically he fake laughed as he gave you the ping pong ball “Don’t make me lose.” were the last words he said before turning around and heading towards the kitchen as half of the girls followed him while the others waited for him to come back as they finally backed away and took a seat on the furthest couch.

“How does he manage with all these girls up his ass 24/7? I would cry, or punch them either one.” The man across the table laughs at your comment while the guy standing next to him says, “One, you're just sensitive Y/n and two I don't think he minds it.” baffled by the words the man just said you scoffed at his remark “Of course you would say that Jake, you're the most sensitive guy i’ve ever known.” “Can both of you shut up, you're making me lose my focus.” Sunghoon interrupts the both of you as he was looking directly at the cups “I’m sure they are the problem.” The guys at the other end of the table sarcastically comment, making you giggle, “Oh shut up Jay, you're worse at this game than me.” the man put his hand over his chest as he scoffed while whispering the word ‘rude’ to Jake. “When are we going back to the dorms? This party is so boring.” You whined to the men at the table as you bend your knees to drag out your boredom, “Soon, just get a few drinks in you and then you won’t want to leave. That’s what Sunoo did, see.” the man across from you said as he pointed at the man on the couch, sprawled and passed out with a drink in his hand. “Yup, he looks like he’s having a blast.” Sarcasm wasn’t leaving your presence today, “Where’s Won?” Jay looked up at you as he pointed behind you to show the man you were looking for to be playing video games with other people as the whole room was filled with men.

Your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape as your gaze was turned back to the game just to have your attention be taken away from the game to feel someone's hand sneak around your waist “Thanks I can take it from here.” Heeseung said as he went to take your stance you interrupted his actions “Can you actually get me a drink or two, they just said they don’t know how long it is till we leave. I can’t go through this whole night sober if we are staying here longer.” a small laugh left his lips while his head nodded to you as his hand left its previous stance on your waist. “Your drinking?” The man next to you askes as he hands you the ping pong ball, you back up one step and lean forward to look at the cups from a certain angle as you toss the ball it lands in one of the cups displayed the closest to you. The man straight ahead of you cursed under his breath as he picked up the ball out of the cup and started to chug the liquid in it, “This party is honestly so boring, I don’t even know if I want to remember this.” a hand appeared next to you with a drink in it.

“Just let me know when you want a refill.” You nodded as you stepped out of your previous spot and headed towards Jake, “Now you're routing for the opposite team, not cool Y/nie.” Heesung says as he fake pouts the feeling of an arm being wrapped around your shoulder startled you. “Yes she is, it’s just because I'm the best.” The disgusted face returns to your face once again but thankfully it was for a different reason than before, “I wasn’t even here for the whole conversation and I still know Jake is lying, get your disgusting arms off her.” Jungwon says as he walks over to you lifting up Jake’s arm from his long sleeve with his pointer finger and thumb. “Hee where did your entourage go?” Jungwon asked as he walked behind you, hugging your waist as he rested his head on your shoulder giving you a kiss on the neck then returning his gaze to Heeseung.

“Gone.” “Not even the one who never leaves your side.” “Fine I told them to leave me alone, plus that one girl always smells like potato chips anyways.” Shock lit up your face at Heeseungs rude comment about the girl, sure she was just another one of his followers but you never thought he viewed some of them in those certain ways. “Heeseung, that's rude.” You commented, “But it’s true.” Sunghoon says as he dabs up Heeseung. Picking up the cup you slowly take small sips as you continue to watch your friends compete against one another, sip after sip the drink in your hand felt lighter as you looked down into the cup there was nothing left in it. “I’m gonna go get a refill, you stay here.” You tell the man that was just resting his head on you as you walked towards the kitchen with an empty cup in your hand, stopping in front of the drinks about to pick up the drink Heeseung had gotten you before a hand stopped you and pulled your trance towards the figure. It was a tall man who had a bottle of whisky in one arm as the other picked up the drink you were about to grab, “Sorry, were you about to grab that?” he asked as he extended the bottle towards your body.

“Thanks.” You say as you placed your cup on the table and started to fill your cup up to the brim “Geez save some for me.” he remarks as you giggled in response handing him back the bottle as he filled the cup he had as well. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing out here getting yourself a drink all alone?” The bottle that was in his arm was no longer there but was now being replaced as his hand sneaked around to your ass while the other went to wrap around your waist, “I’m not-” your stuttering easily showed just how scared and nervous you were around this mysterious man. “Baby, don't be shy. Why don’t you come upstairs with me and I can give you a good time?” Disgust started to fill every inch of your body as you tried your hardest to get the drunken man away from you yet your build just wasn’t strong enough to take his, suddenly the presence of his body was soon gone. A hand wrapped around your wrist while the other hand took the cup away from your grasp, it was Heeseung.

“What did I tell you?..” Before you could even think to respond more words started to fall from his lips “I would refill your drink, not you. Me.” he led you back to the table where all the boys were playing the game yet none of them were there “Where did they go?” He picked up the rest of his and the members' things then started walking to the door still holding onto you. “We were about to leave, you were gone so I went out to find you.” Picking your head up you were faced with the car the guys drove you here in, Heeseung opened the door as he let go of your hand and walked to the other side of his car getting into his seat.

“Where were you?” Sunghoon asks as you sit down starting to buckle your seatbelt, before a word can fall out of your mouth Heeseung answers the question for you “She was letting some guy touch up on her, as the guy was basically dry humping her.” his words pissed you off because not even did he lie but he got the whole thing twisted, “No, I went to get a drink. Like I told Jungwon, anyways this guy started touching me and I tried to get him off of me while he was saying some ‘baby let me show you a good time’ type shit. So no, I did not let him willingly touch me, thank you very much.” you say breathless as you finally lean back into the seat. The whole car went singlet for a minute, “Why didn’t you tell me that he was touching you like that and you didn’t consent to anything.” you rolled your eyes “Does holding my wrist and pulling me away saying ‘what did I say about the refill’ ring any bells?” you commented, mimicking him in the worst voice impression ever. “I don’t sound like that and all I was getting across was that you should’ve listened to me about the refills so that way this wouldn't happen.” “Oh yeah my apologies I forgot that Lee Heeseung knows when and where every man is going to be every second, how could i forget? Not to mention he knows when a man is trying to get his dick in my pants as well.”

“Would it kill you to not give me sarcasm just for a minute? I'm trying to have a serious conversation with you.” He bluntly remarks “Yes.” “Yes what?” you looked directly into his eyes “Yes it would kill me.” his breathing started to become more heavy causing him to huff his air out while his body started to fill with anger he usually wasn’t easily triggered like this but he is tipsy not to mention he saw another man on you causing him to be a little jealous as well, you didn’t know that though. Tension filled every corner of the car while the only two voices heard was yours and Heeseung, occasionally the angered words that would fall from one of your lips would stutter or slur from the lack of soberness from the both of you. Not to mention almost all of the guys in the car passed out from being drunk or they are just listening to you both bitch and moan about why he was right or why you were right, “God you guys are annoying, you're giving me a headache.” Sunoo says as he rubs his temple “Yeah, cut it out.” Jake said as he turned from his previous sleeping state you listened to them and shut up, normally if it was Jake just saying it alone then you wouldn’t but hearing Sunoo say it just shut you up immediately, you have a soft spot for him.

Feeling the car come to a stop as the driver put it in park you immediately opened your door and headed straight towards your room knowing that Heeseung wasn’t done with the conversation yet, footsteps trailed behind you as you walked into the dorms. You could hear him calling your name but you ignored him not wanting to annoy the members more than you already have with both of your bickering, opening your bedroom door you shut it behind you walking straight towards your bed as you hear the sound of your door open. “Why are you such a brat?” Flopping down on your bed you lay deeper into your pillow as your face is being engulfed by the softness of it, “Leave me alone.” you muffled into the pillow but surprisingly he heard you. “No, not till we finish this.” Picking your head up from the pillow you looked at his figure as he stood in front of your bed, “Finish what? This isn’t a game, there is nothing to finish. Go to bed Heeseung.” the feeling of a dent in your bed made you realize that he sat down while you sat up facing him.

Great now he’s never gonna leave. “Y/n I'm being serious I-” You cut him off as you placed your lips on his, bringing him into a quick kiss as seconds reality hit you causing your lips to slowly start to leave his, silence was heard for a moment “See silent, good talk. Goodnight.” you tell him as you lay on your stomach enjoying the soft warmth of your pillow once more till his words brought you out of your trance. “You can’t just do that.” “Well I did, goodnight.” you muffled into your pillow “Can you hand me my blanket?” asking him as he was sitting on the edge of it resulting in him shaking his head “Why did you do that?” a groan left your lips.

You thought the kiss would help him shut up but what is it going to take for this man to go to bed “You talk too much.” he rolled his eyes “And you don’t talk enough.” picking your head up from the pillow you spun your head to the side “What is it going to take for you to shut up and go to bed?” His eyes met yours as he studied them just before he leaned in, placing his lips on yours once more but this time it wasn’t just a half assed kiss to get him to shut up, there was something more behind the kiss. His hands ran to the back of your head as his fingers tangled into your hair as desperation started to fill every inch of his body, the only thing he was questioning in the moment was if this was happening because you both had something to drink or if he really felt a certain way towards you. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as you hopelessly needed to feel more of him, he was the only thing that was running through your mind the moment he wrapped his hand around your waist at the party.

Hunger started to fill the air as the kiss deepened into his hands running along every inch of your body, his hands rested on your inner thighs slightly rubbing them just before he brought both of his hands to your hips and pulled you onto his lap while his hands gripped your hips like his life depended on it. “You done acting like a brat?” He mumbled against your lip as he immediately returned back to your lips giving you no time to answer his question, but little did he know it wasn't going to be as easy as he thinks. Trying to pull away from the kiss you were only met by him pulling you even more closer till your hips started to move causing his reaction time to be delayed, pulling away from the kiss you finally replied to his question “What if I said I wasn't done acting like one?” a smirk crawled from one side of his face to the other. “Guess I’d have to make you behave then, right?”

“Good Luck.” His smirk faded as his bottom lip landed in between his teeth “Don’t need your luck.” he pushed your shoulders into the mattress below you as he filled the empty space between you two, placing his lips immediately back onto yours his hands traveled around your body while your fingers went to his shirt pulling it off of his body as he still was fixated on your body. You knew that the more his skin was showing the more vulnerable he would become giving you the hand in dominance, which would allow you to be a brat to him and leave him high and dry. You weren’t planning on doing that because genuinely you wanted him to fuck the pettiness out of you, like he has always said he would. Pulling yourself out of your thoughts the feeling of a hard piece of fabric rubbing up against your clothed cunt resulted in you looking up at the man above you then trailing your eyes down his body as his cock was threatening to be freed from his pants.

Bringing your eyes back to meet his “You gonna continue being a brat or are you gonna help?” his words started to fill with lust the moment his dick rubbed up against you, “You know being a brat sound really nice, but I just wanna get myself off so do me a favor and get off of me so I can ride you since you are clearly not going to do anything.” your words took him aback. “Being a bit selfish don’t you think?” you shook your head “I get myself off and you...” you grabbed his hand and showed it to him “…have something to help you later how nice is that.” “You suggesting that you ride me, make yourself cum while I jerk off.” you pushed him up and off of you while sitting up straight next to him “Seems pretty crystal clear to me.” his head slightly shook as his eyes rolled “I have an idea.” your gaze met his as he continues to talk. “You ride me and the first one to cum had to watch the other fuck someone who can make them cum.”

Your eyes as he didn’t even know how much excitement was running through your body while adrenaline was pumping through your veins, “Let’s go I don’t got all day.” you say getting up from your position holding onto his holders as he scooted to the pillows for elevation when you ride him. Your hands started to take off your shirt off while your attention turned to him as he sat there looking at you blankly, “Need me to undress you too? or do you got it?” you asked in a baby voice he gave you a disgusted look from your sarcasm as he started to unbuckle his belt. “Are you still gonna be bratty after i we fuck?” “Depends how good we fuck.” you shrugged while he finished taking off his pants along with you taking off yours. You got on top of his lap leaning forward getting closer to him as you placed a kiss on his lips just before you started to grind down onto his hardened cock causing a groan to fall from his lips, “I barely did anything and your already moaning.” he sighed “Just wait you will be cumming on my cock in less than 10 minutes.” you rolled your eyes and scoffed as you brought your hand down towards his boxers as you toyed with the waistband, waiting till he was desperate enough to continue.

It was fun to tease Heeseung and he always made it so easy, his cock was twitching against his boxers as pre cum started to leak out of them. It was almost too easy. You pulled his boxers down past his knees as you took his aching cock and placed it in your hand as you slowly started to stroke it causing multiple noises to be heard from the man under you, bringing your hand to your mouth you let spit fall from your mouth and onto your hand while you placed the hand back on his cock giving it more lube making it easier for him to slide in. Pulling your panties to one side you brought his tip closer and closer to your aching heat, the air in your room was filled with tension and warmth. Slowly starting to sink down onto his cock you just realized how hard this little challenge he gave you was going to be, but that wasn’t going to stop you from winning.

Groans and whines left his lips as you bottomed out on him his hips were about to thrust up into you multiple times but he stopped himself as he didn’t want to give in to his desperate needs, your hips gained the strength to start moving as you started to find a steady pace to keep. His cock would twitch inside of you which would have you feeling like cummjng each time he did it because it would hit the perfect spots when you did, you started to wonder if he started to do it on purpose. It gave you the idea to start clenching around him. “Fuck.. Y/n don’t do that.” He said breathlessly “Why?” he remained silent not wanting to tell you ‘it felt to good’ or ‘because i’m gonna cum if you don’t stop’ you knew he was going to cave in before you. Clenching around him more resulted on his hands on your waist as he thrusted up into you as he kept your hips in the air he pulled out and came onto his stomach. “Fuck fuck fuck.”

Swears consistently left his lips with every stroke “What happened to you being confident?” finishing his last stroke he looks back up at you “Y/n pleas-” “Wait what about the thing you get to watch me fuck someone else.” his expression changed from relaxed to tense and jealous “No, it was a jok-” “You said Heeseung, i’ll be back.” he got up from his previous spit laying down as pulled his sweatpants on as he watched you put on one of your robes. “Where are you going?” you turned towards him “Going to find Jay, so he can fuck me while you watch.”

tags list:

@luvyev @honestimage @siria000023 @tooshyshaa @heeseungshim @juliesblogs @wonpoem @weyukinluv @cha0thicpisces @jungwonloveer @zouzie008 @wooziswife @jwonistic @wonniesdoll @wonki-luv @en-gene2 @deobitifull @cupidhee @namdeyuoi @hanienie @gfjydhufvh @nyfwyeonjun @sangzhi4 @peonywon @caravm @heeseungsbabyy

if your tag is in white i couldn’t find ur blog

#smut #fluff #enha x reader #enhypen smut #heeseung smut #jake smut #jay smut #jungwon smut #sunghoon smut #sunoo smut

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wileys-russo · 5 months

Text

like a dumb rom com II k.cooney-cross x catley!reader

you bopped your head along to the music which was blasting from the speaker on your bedside table, for once home alone and able to have it up as loud as you wanted.

your textbooks lay open and spread around you on your bed as you scrolled through a gruelingly long article on your laptop, sticky notes plastered all over your legs as you tried your hardest to retain what you were attempting to study.

you sighed looking at your calendar on the wall, another flurry of color coded sticky notes mapping our your schedule for the rest of the month. people could call you a lot of things but you were anything but disorganized, you simply couldn't be in order to juggle your studies and have a full time professional football career.

you'd loved football from the moment you were old enough to kick a ball, following quickly in your siblings footsteps as your poor parents lives quickly became encapsulated by all three of your routines.

different teams and matches to watch every weekend, travelling back and forward to games and tournaments, weeks full of multiple training's and commitments, food crumbs in cars where dinners and snacks were smashed in the back seat from destination a to b.

you almost felt like they deserved the peace and quiet of an empty house once you'd all moved out, your brother no longer playing having viewed it as more of a hobby than a career once he got older.

but no matter the driving and the games and the fees they were always your proudest supporters. especially when both you and your sister had made your national team debuts, first as junior matildas and then into the senior teams, you always following a few steps behind steph.

when she'd moved over to london to sign with arsenal and you'd stayed at melbourne victory you'd missed her, but you were confident that a little bit of distance in your football careers would be a good thing for the both of you to grow as players.

then a couple of years later after your olympic debut had come your own offers from overseas, european and super league teams alike all reaching out to your agent eager to offer you your first international professional contract.

it was overwhelming to look at sums and salaries and contracts you could have only ever dreamed of in your youth, your deadline to make a decision coming in hard and fast you weren't any closer to making the final call.

thats when your national team mates had stepped in and suddenly you were getting calls of encouragement and gentle attempts at persuading to join them at their various clubs once it started to leak out just who had made you offers.

the least gentle of all though was of course from your older sister, who all but chewed your ear off that you were even thinking about accepting any clubs beside the one she'd called her home for a couple of years now, caitlin and lydia both quick to back her up.

you'd been the most hesitant at arsenals offer and once you were honest with steph about your reasons why her approach softened significantly. she was fast to assure you that she'd had nothing to do with it at all and had only overheard the coaching staff discussing potential new signings that afternoon.

then came the assurance that she wanted you there with her, and that despite your own insecurities she'd never ever seen it as you copying her or riding her coat tails. her heart broke a little that you could be so dismissive of your own skills and talent that had lead to all of the multitude of offers in the first place.

knowing this was a decision that ultimately you needed to make, and with a quiet reminder from dean that the tighter she held on the further you'd pull away, she left you to make the call of your own accord, doing her very best to ignore the temptation to call you and check in daily about if you were any closer to pulling the trigger.

then a few days later came the video from melbourne victory, the signing post from arsenal and your own bitter sweet goodbye to your home country and the team you'd called family for the last three seasons.

at both your mum and sisters insistence you'd moved in with steph and dean so your sister could first hand make sure you were settling in, and so your mum could sleep at night knowing you had family looking out for you in a foreign country.

you'd settled in quickly and comfortably of course. just like steph you'd always been outgoing and bubbly, never shying away from making a new friend or striking up a conversation, and suddenly you were adopted right into the team as if you'd been there for years, your football family expanding.

back to present day and you were reveling in a rare night in to yourself, steph and dean having gone out for a nice meal together as you dedicated your evening to your studies.

it was peak exam season and mid wsl season which meant you were battling your way through, mostly on top of everything thanks to your calendar and onslaught of sticky notes.

but given your loud music what you failed to hear were the taps at your window over and over, too engrossed in your studies and mumbling along the lyrics to the 1975 song in your ear, a band both you and your sister harbored quite a shared love for.

steph had gotten you tickets for your twenty first birthday earlier this year and the next day at training both of you had been teased relentlessly for your distinct lack of voice from spending the evening screaming along to all of your favourite songs.

failing to hear the gentle taps at your window, you also missed the creak of it being thrown all the way open and the gentle thump of feet falling to your carpet.

"jesus christ babe are you deaf?" you certainly heard that.

you let out a strangled scream at the sudden unexpected voice, spinning around and falling backwards off your bed, hitting the floor with a loud groan as your girlfriends eyes widened and she hurried to help you up.

"what the fuck is wrong with you? why the fuck would you do that?" you shouted angrily after she helped you up, pushing harshly at her chest and sending her stumbling as she just caught her footing.

"i was tossing rocks at your window and you ignored me, i thought you might have been asleep!" kyra defended holding her hands up as you went at her again but thought better of it, your heart beat starting to gently slow down as you recovered from your shock.

"so your reaction to me being asleep was to..break in?" you scoffed, smacking her leg as she whined and pulled a face, mumbling how she was just trying to be romantic.

"why didn't you just message me or come to the front door? i'm home alone you idiot i thought you were a murderer or something!" you shot her an unimpressed glare as the girl gave you a sheepish smile.

"i thought it would be more romantic this way! like those dumb rom coms we love." she pouted and from that moment you could no longer be properly mad at her.

"just lucky you live a few feet off the ground, bit worried i'd fall and break my neck if i had to scale a drain pipe to get to your window." the midfielder grinned as you couldn't help but bite back a small smile at her adorable dimples.

"next time warn me ky instead of giving me a heart attack. i could have hurt you!" you warned, making the girl send you an amused smile, taking a seat on the corner of your bed as you started to tidy up your mess of study materials on the bed.

"and how exactly would you have done that babe? hit me with a book? stabbed me with a pencil? assaulted me with your tiny little baby hands." the girl grinned teasingly, poking at you as you smacked her away with a huff.

"they are not tiny! they're normal sized and they're barely smaller than yours." you glared at her, standing to move your books and laptop over to the desk you should have been studying at in the first place.

"helloo!" the girl sung out, suddenly stood in front of you as you turned, arms now free she wasted no time pulling you into a hug, your chins resting on one anothers shoulders as you relished in the feel of your skin finally in contact with hers.

"i missed you today." you sighed having had to take the day off training to complete an exam, though you were studying online you still needed to go into the distance education office to take your exams which was located in camden.

"missed you more book worm." you might have rolled your eyes but really it was the cheeky comments and consistent flirty banter between the two of you that had caused you to fall for her alluringly mischievous charm in the first place.

having kissed on a night out when you both played for melbourne victory you'd danced around your feelings for far too long, mutually chalking it up to a drunk mistake.

but it seemed you just couldn't keep away from one another and with each moment apart the two of you either on the phone or texting, a few more sober kisses shared now, you'd made it official during prep camp for the world cup, over the moon to both be selected in the final squad.

a few of your close friends knew not long after you'd made it official, having been by both of your sides during the in denial but hopelessly pining over one another stage.

you were quick to tell ellie who was always your roommate on national duties, the blonde practically tackling you to the floor with a sigh of relief she no longer needed to watch the 'slow lovesick burn'.

then kyra of course told her own little football family, charlie first and then katrina who'd given you both a shovel talk about the importance of treating one another with respect and how she wouldn't hesitate to smack either of you into line.

but beyond that you kept it mostly to yourselves, the two of you had always been close so no one thought much of how touchy and affectionate you were, having been that way long before you were anything more than friends no one thought differently.

then when kyra had joined arsenal after the world cup everything seemed to fall into place, the two of you finally able to give your relationship a proper go without hours of time difference and thousands of kilometers of distance between you to be a barrier anymore.

there was just one glaringly unspoken issue and that was that both of you were far too terrified to make your relationship common knowledge, which really was only because you were even more terrified of what your older sisters reaction might be.

a few of the arsenal girls like teyah and gio who you'd been close with since your signing had caught on quite quickly, but promised to keep it hushed.

being on the younger side of the squad had meant you'd gained a whole handful of older sisters alongside steph and again it hadn't taken long before again they'd picked up on your change in mood now kyra was around, but most had kept their observations to themselves.

unlike leah who cornered you after training, your vice captain getting the truth out of you in record time with a stern look and a few well worded questions, and of course she couldn't keep the information away from lia or beth.

so as the list of your team mates who knew the truth about you and kyra grew, so did your plaguing anxieties that someone would slip up and alert steph.

despite knowing you easily the best out of everyone it amazed you that somehow she herself hadn't caught on, you and kyra having made a few clumsy mistakes where she could have easily put the pieces together.

after your first major argument with kyra over something so stupid you could hardly remember what it was even about, you'd turned up on caitlins front door step with tear stained cheeks both for comfort and some advice knowing there wasn't a chance you could speak with steph who was always your go to person.

you knew you needed to come clean and the longer you put it off the more strain it put on your relationship with kyra and the worse you worried for steph's reaction given how long you'd kept her in the dark for.

"i really should study for another hour ky." you hummed, reaching out for your laptop as kyra tutted, moving you away from your desk with her body still wrapped around yours. "lets go look at your schedule babe." she ordered as you moved toward your calendar.

"kyra!" you exclaimed in surprise, seeing a few new sticky notes replace your old ones. "oh look, give kyra a cuddle? check." she wiggled her body against yours where it clung to the back of you making you smile.

"give kyra a kiss." she craned her head around and pressed her lips sweetly to yours as you shook your head but gave in, indulging her for a moment. "what's next? study? mmm don't see that on here for tonight." kyra hummed, finger reaching out to trail down your new list as you sighed.

"when did you even change this? you've been here for like five seconds." you laughed in disbelief at how fast she could be. "i didn't change anything!" she gasped in mock offence.

"oh look! watch movies and make kyra her favourite snack. guess we have to do that then babe, you do live by your schedule!" kyra grinned cheekily, letting go of you and making a beeline for your door, holding out her hand expectantly.

"you are unbelievably sneaky sometimes cooney cross." you smiled, crossing your arms and staring her down. "who, me? never!" she beamed, wiggling her fingers for you to take her hand as you did so with a dramatic sigh as if it was a chore, causing her to attack your face with kisses and pull you out of your room.

having followed through with your 'schedule' you'd made both of your favourite snacks and settled into the living room to watch a movie, kyra's choice of course given you knew if she wasn't into the movie there wasn't a chance she'd sit still through it.

"hey where's calvy?" your girlfriend realised suddenly, pulling her head out of your lap and looking around with a frown. "its taken you this long to realise he isn't here? he's normally jumping on you in seconds ky!" you laughed as kyra rolled her eyes.

"he's with steph and dean they found some dog friendly outdoor bistro they could take him with them for dinner, you know what steph's like with her son." you smiled in amusement, the four legged canine loved and looked at more like your nephew than a dog.

"aw and they left you here all alone." kyra cooed, reaching up to squish your cheeks as her head settled back in its previous place in your lap. "please! its a rare blessing." you mumbled as well as you could given the way your face was being poked and pulled at by the brunette.

"shut up and watch your silly kids movie." you wrenched her hands away from your face and placed them by her sides before tangling yours in her hair again, massaging her scalp gently as she sighed contentedly, tucking one of her hands up your top to rest dormant on your abs, determined to have at least some of her skin on yours at all times.

"it is not a kids movie. it's a comedy film!" kyra defended, eyes glued to the screen as you only hummed with an amused smile, melting into the sofa cushions wrapped up in your little bubble of comfort.

it wasn't long until both your attention spans wavered and you found your lips locked with kyra's, both your hands roaming one anothers bodies. the air was filled with your giggles and sweet nothings as you once again fell head over heels for the girls effortless charm, throwing your head back with a laugh at a particularly cheesy pick up line mumbled into your neck.

that giddy little love bubble burst the moment you heard the jingle of keys and australian accents which didn't belong to you or kyra invading the space, and the pitter patter of paws hurtling toward you as you both quickly broke apart.

you'd just settled with a decent gap between you as calvin arrived, launching himself on top of you with a few licks hello, jumping across to greet kyra before dean called him away.

"oh hi ky!" steph greeted with a warm smile as she appeared next, kyra quick to her feet to hug her hello. "see kyra hugs me hello. she's got manners!" your sister teased as you blew her a sarcastic kiss, unmoving from your position on the couch.

"i see you every day stephanie i hardly feel the need to hug you hello when you've been gone a few hours!" you laughed with a roll of your eyes. "i've technically not seen you all day." she countered, taking a seat in between you and kyra.

"how did your exam go peanut?" the defender questioned with a concerned look, not having spoke with you since you'd left for camden this morning a nervous wreck.

"steph what have i said about calling me that!" you ignored her question with an annoyed groan, throwing your head back and shooting kyra a glare over your sisters shoulder as she laughed at your expense.

"that you hate it and not to call you it but i will always call you it because you're my little peanut!" the blonde cooed, pinching your cheeks and shaking your head side to side, with almost eight years between you she'd always babied you in a sense and though sometimes it was welcomed most of the times you despised it.

"i wish i was adopted." you grimaced, smacking her hands away with a roll of your eyes. "not too late. i'm sure we can find a nice family willing to take in a moody twenty one year old who can't cook, can't clean, whinges and moans about everything, doesn't do her own laundry, eats her salary in groceries-" steph started to list things off on her fingers as your eyes widened and you kicked her.

"none of that is true!" you scoffed with a scowl, once again sending your girlfriend an unimpressed glare as she clutched at her stomach with laughter. "see even your best mate agrees, you're a grub!" steph ruffled your hair and stood to her feet.

"i'm a grub? have you met the six foot three toddler we live with?" you pointed toward the kitchen, referencing your sisters fiance and soon to be brother in law.

"oi! don't throw me under the bus to cover your own ass." dean yelled back, the two of you always having gotten on like a house on fire which was one of the many reasons steph was so in love with him.

"did you drive here ky?" the older catley questioned with an amused smile, kyra getting the unsung hint it was time to head home as you sent her a look to assure she could stay, but there wasn't a use.

"yeah, i'll head off now." the midfielder smiled warmly, again hugging your sister as you were quick to your feet now to walk her out, kyra yelling goodbye to dean before you both stepped out the front door.

"do you want a lift tomorrow? we could get brekky and a coffee?" you offered hopefully, the two of you lingering just out of sight, kyra eagerly agreeing already looking forward to getting you alone for even just a half an hour.

"coast?" the brunette questioned as you peered subtly around the corner, not seeing either steph or dean in the kitchen through the window. "clear." you grinned, barely able to get the word out before her lips were on yours and your back was pressed against the cool brick of the side of the house.

"okay okay, easy tiger!" you laughed quietly, pulling away as her tongue slipped into your mouth, well aware that the two of you could be caught at any moment. "few more." kyra smiled cheekily, pecking your lips repeatedly as her hands gripped your hips.

"i'll get you round nine?" your hands settled on her cheeks, thumbs stroking her jawline, training not starting until eleven thirty given tomorrow was a double session. "make it eight and we can smooch for an hour? teyah has early rehab." kyra countered with a charming grin as you nodded your agreement.

"i hate when you say smooch." you laughed against her lips, kissing her one final time before pushing her off, knowing the longer you hung about outside the larger the chance grew steph would come to check what was going on.

"which is exactly why i say it. goodnight lover!" the girl bowed to you making you gag. "i hate that more! goodnight you dickhead. text me when you get home yeah?" you frowned, kyra quick to promise you she would before she dissapeared into the night.

returning inside you weren't surprised to find your sister and her fiance curled up together on the sofa, not dissimilarly to how you and kyra had been prior to their arrival, calvin asleep in his bed on the floor.

"you gonna watch with us?" steph craned her head back to look at you, i'm a celebrity loaded on the television. "are the two of you going to make out like horny teenagers?" you questioned, knowing exactly how they could be after their little date nights.

"probably." dean grinned in response as you gagged and steph hit him lightly with a smile. "hey you never answered me before! how did your exam go chicken?" steph called out before you could leave, again an eye roll greeting her choice of nickname.

"good i think? i finished before the timer and i remembered most of my arguments. one more and i'm done! then a five week fucking break." you moaned happily, stretching your hands behind your head.

"excuse me are those mine?" your sisters eyes narrowed, pointing to the peter alexander pyjama shorts you currently had on. "noo." you smiled guiltily, grateful she couldn't see you also had on the matching shirt beneath your hoodie.

"you are such a menace." steph sighed with a shake of her head, normally she'd be on top of you in seconds demanding you give back whatever you'd stolen, but knowing she'd actually worn one of your favourite pair of trainers out to dinner and you hadn't yet noticed she decided against that course of action.

"love you steffy!" you grinned, dipping off to the kitchen to fill your water bottle, pulling a face of horror as you returned to find the two of them attempting to eat one anothers face.

"god can you at least wait until i've left the room?" you gagged in disgust as they pulled apart. "can you hurry?" steph smirked making you pull another face and whistle for calvin to follow you.

"no leave him!" your sister attempted but the fluff ball was already padding happily after you toward your room. "i'm saving him years of therapy from having to watch his parents go at it. goodnight sickos!" you saluted sarcastically, your door closing with a thud as calvin made himself comfortable on the end of your bed.

doing your nightly routine you returned to bed with your skin soft and your teeth brushed, smiling at the text from kyra that she was home safe, clicking the facetime icon beside her contact, the two of you normally falling asleep together.

you smiled happily as she accepted, propping her phone up as she brushed her teeth and the two of you chattered away, blissfully unaware of what was to greet you in the week to come.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

part two

#kyra cooney cross x reader #woso x reader #woso blurbs #woso fanfics #woso imagine #kyra cooney cross #woso

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mordredisacoolname · 3 months

Text

BRIDGERTON BROS FALLING FOR A MALE READER

Male reader

HEADCANONS

Characters: Anthony, Benedict, Colin

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anthony

-this boy is in DENIAL

-what do you mean he's in love with a MAN??

-he's so doomed

-you were very tight before

-spent every day together

-he really enjoyed your company, more than anyone, and he didn't understand why

-but when he realized he loved you he started avoiding you like the plug

-you don't understand why

-even tho you made peace with liking men and than fact that you're in love with your best friend, you didn't think he returned the feeling

-so you think you did something wrong

-you try talking to him but every time he finds an excuse to be somewhere else

-he is jealous of every man you talk to

-he doesn't have the right, but he still feels it

-after weeks of avoiding you he realizes the feeling won't go away

-so he with Benedict to a party, and sees you kissing a man

-you mean he has a chance with you???

-he barges to the room, his fist aching to punch the other guy, but he controls that feeling and just orders him to get the fuck out

-you're shocked, both just standing there staring at each other

-anthony steps closer to you starting intensely at your eyes

-"I think..." He doesn't finish the sentence and just kisses you

Benedict

-he first meets you in an art class

-watching your hand gracefully moving the paint brush on the canvas

-his starting is interrupted by lord Granville, asking him why haven't he started sketching

-by the end of the class you compliment him on his painting, making him feel something funny in his chest

-next time you're both in the studio he gathers the courage to talk to you, learning you'll be at the Granville's party next week

-you both meet there and spend the whole night together, you invite him to your studio, just the both of you

-he spends the leading days thinking about you

-"so, you want to pose or should I do it?" You ask him once you've taken out the canvas

-"I'd like to paint you" he saying with a playful twinkle in his eyes

-you settle into the chair in front of the canvas, posing for him

-"you know, I've been wanting to practice some anatomy"

-you understand the hint and take off your top, smiling to yourself

-after he's finished for the day you get up to look at what he did

-"so, what do you think"

-"this is amazing" you tell him

-"well, the muse is all to blame" he gets closer to you, looking briefly at your lips

-"oh sorry, next time I'll make sure to move in my sit and not let you work"

-"I won't be complaining if you were the one distracting me"

-he smirks looking into your eyes

-this waiting is killing you so you lean forward pressing your lips against his

-"we'll see next time" you say and leave him standing alone in the studio, eager for your next session

Colin

-you're a featherington relative visiting your family

-you're the closest to Penelope, always getting along

-you arrive together at the ball, all dressed up

-you're in a middle of a conversation with Pen when a man interrupts you to say hello to Pen

-"oh hello, I haven't seen you before" he looks at you in slight awe

-"I'm Penelope's distant relative, 'name', nice to meet you Mr....?"

-it takes Colin a couple seconds to respond "oh right, I'm Colin bridgerton"

-"the famous bridgerton, what a pleasure"

-"famous? You've heard of me?"

-"of course, Penelope never stops talking about you Mr bridgerton" you smirk at her red face

-"ah, that's nice, I think"

-"well, I shall go speak to other people, enjoy your night, Colin"

-he's absolutely smitten

-your voice, your smile, everything

-he visits the featherington house every day after that night, just to see you

-you talk a couple of time, and once he invites you to play cricket with his brothers

-you have am absolute blast, winning against Colin all the time

-he's usually good at this, but he can't seem to pocus

-except he does focus, just not on the game

-one day you sit together on a bench, watching people pass by

-"I'm returning to my hometown in two days" you suddenly say

-his heart sinks

-"what?"

-"yeah, I don't really see a future here, I thought that I'd find me a...wife, and settle down, but no such luck"

-his mind goes blank, he can't lose you

-he's next day he hurries over to the house, asking for you

-you're in your bedroom reading something when he storms in

-"is everything well Colin?"

-"don't go, stay here"

-"I told you, there's no reas-"

-"stay for me" he tells you before he overthinks it too much

-you're surprised, not because you didn't feel something going on between you, but because he actually said it, you thought it would never happen

-you're kinda relieved Colin presented a reason for you to stay, with him

#male reader #male reader insert #x male reader #bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #Anthony bridgerton x male reader #Benedict bridgerton x reader #Benedict bridgerton x male reader #colin bridgerton x reader #Colin bridgerton x male reader #bridgerton x male reader

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y3ager · 6 months

Text

STORYTIME I (26 F) FUCKED MY SUPERSTAR CLIENT (24 M) AFTER MONTHS OF SEXUAL TENSION!

— ‘i’m a manager for a pretty big music label and my client is the biggest dickhead in the world but i fear i fucked him after one of our usual arguments.. 😵‍💫’

eren y. x black!fem!reader

tags: modern au, smut, porn not much plot, hate(?)sex, cunnilingus, cowgirl, reader gets called ‘mama’ and ‘boss’, unprotected sex, mild choking, musician!eren, manager!reader. minors do not interact.

my first collab entry MAKE SOME NOISE YALL WTF!!! but no seriously thanks so much to @k9nto for letting me join your event i had a blast writing this! hope you all enjoy! 🤭

YOU’VE ENCOUNTERED SOME annoying people in your life. in kindergarten, a boy taunted you by picking up one your fallen hot pink knocker-balls and refusing to give it back to you. in high school, some chick named tiffany ripped down all of your junior class president posters that you spent weeks designing and printing out on the highest quality paper. your college advisor had been completely useless, you’d still be dragging yourself through your bachelor’s degree if you didn’t stay on your toes and realize the classes you were dropped in were a waste of time. but all of these people, and many more that have slipped your mind, shaped and molded you into the woman you were today. strong, tenacious, independent, a go-getter who never gave up and thus was able to reap her hard work, in the form of three nice crisp degrees and a never pitiful bank account.

but eren yeager, grammy award winning singer, songwriter and musician, with multiple weeks spent at the top of the billboard hot 100 and 200 charts, millions of units sold worldwide, and stadiums packed to the brim, took the fucking cake.

you were warned he’d be difficult. every manager he’s assigned quits before one of them ends up in a body bag. none of them have a single nice thing to say about him, and he finds that hilarious.

for better or for worse, you took the challenge because you’re a sucker for them. nothing in life comes easy, and you figured that the managers before just didn’t come hard enough. maybe eren’s fame and status made them falter, but such a fate wouldn’t befall you.

you dragged him to his magazine shoots, you kept his mouth in line during interviews, you kept his socials clean. he was never a second late to rehearsals and recordings. he was a reflection of you, and if you were perfect goddammit he was going to be too.

until today.

“i’m not putting in another extension, eren. the label is starting to get really irritable. we need to go to the studio now.” you furiously swiping along your ipad, pacing around the singer’s deluxe hotel room. while you’re dressed for the day in clean crisp clothes, sharp stilettos, and jet black lace front expertly melted and laid, eren’s still in the bed. the covers are everywhere, his shirt is next to a couple pillows on the floor, and he’s laying on his back eating a croissant from room service, paying you absolutely no mind. it takes everything in you to not chuck your device at his big head. “i’m serious. get. up.”

“and i said i’m not,” he mocks your assertive tone, voice oozing in sarcasm. “going.” he coughs, obviously faking. “my voice hurts. can’t make those greedy bastards money if my vocal chords ache. they’ll live.”

“you are on a strict deadline this era. if you want to catch award season, this album needs to be finished and dropped in the next month. amidst the press tour, your window of recording time is dwindling fast.” dates in your digital calendar glare at you, red and angry. every time you check something off your to do, ten new things pop up. you feel your jaw clenching, teeth gritting together uncomfortably.

“i’ve won enough awards. i don’t care. i’m not getting up.” eren finally raises up from the bed, narrowed green eyes meeting yours. it’s fire against fire, an unstoppable force that is a manager determined to do her job versus an immovable object, a musician who’s not budging from his spot. “it’s my album. it’s my music. i finish it when the fuck i get ready. that label will burn before they drop me.”

“if you don’t follow contract, they will drop you. they put a lot of money into you-”

“money i made back for those dumbasses-!”

“they are your bosses, without them-”

“they need me way more than i need them-!”

“get,” you toss your ipad over to a small couch, storming over to the bed. you snatch the edge of the covers and yank hard. enough is enough. if he won’t get up, you’ll make him get up. “the fuck out of this bed, eren, now!”

“you need,” the cover is yanked back, tugging you forward along with it. you lurch momentarily before righting yourself upwards, leaning back to give yourself more leverage in this childish tug of war you find yourself in. “to calm the fuck down, ___. i’m not going and that’s fucking it.” eren may be lean, but he’s toned like a MMA fighter, muscles rippling under tan skin when he calls upon them. another tug and you topple onto the california king bed, one expensive heel sliding off your foot and falling across the room.

your heads snaps up from the covers, brow furrowed deep in anger. “stop being so fucking difficult, you moron!” emotions welling, you grab one of his arms, preparing to drag him out of this bed. your to do list is a nagging itch on your brain that by the grace of god you are going to scratch. you’re not about to let this bad-with-authority dickhead best you when all he has to do is record a fucking vocal.

“oh, we’re doing this?” easily, too easily, so easily that you register your back hitting the soft bed before you realized he even grabbed you back. he pins you down easily, slightly calloused hands grip your upper arms firmly, pushing them down. he places his legs other either side of your hips so yours are forced in between them, but doesn’t keep you from writhing to free yourself. “whatever fucking—stop doing that—chip you have on your shoulder, you need to fucking solve it because shit’s not going your way today. i’m not going and that is final.”

the tussle leaves you two of you panting, eyes boring into each other’s. eren’s long chocolate brown hair is disheveled not only from a night’s sleep but from this impromptu wrestle. small beads up sweat trickle down his naked chest. your writhe again, and he presses down against you, a synonymous hiss sliding through both of your mouths.

“i hate you, eren.”

“whatever helps you sleep at night, ___. looks like you wanted an excuse to feel up on me.”

“oh, like you wanted an excuse to hump me like a mutt?”

there’s another beat of silence as you two watch each other. eren’s hands tighten their hold just a tad before he presses his hardening length hard against your clothed cunt. against your better judgement, your head tilts back and a small moan fights against your bitten bottom lip.

eren hums lowly, his dick bulging against the constraint of his boxers. “hate me too much to actually fuck me, huh? i’m only worth a dry hump.”

oh how eren frustrates you. how he makes even the simplest things in life painstakingly difficult. how he makes you want to smoke ten packs of cigarettes after a day of dealing with him. but oh, how handsome he looks under the lights at photo shoots. how his deep, smooth voice reverbs in your ears. how his fingers move so deftly on his guitar, as if it’s merely an extension of his body. who wouldn’t fantasize about that late at night, him bending you over and snatching down your pants to fuck the stress out of you, or yourself knocking him down a peg and making him beg to let you cum inside.

“shut-” another roll of his hips makes you gasp. “up..”

“i want you, ___,” eren confesses. his hips don’t falter, his cock becoming hungry for release. “i want that pussy. i wanna fuck that little attitude out of you, can i? i see how you look at me and i stare right back.”

you shiver, hand rushing to undo your dress pants and feel more of eren’s dick against your dampening cunt. his hands work with your perfectly, yanking your pants down. it’s a whirlwind of clothes, your sweater, bra, your other shoe.

eren reaches up to grab your breasts, rolling them in his palms, squeezing the supple flesh, pushing them together. “oh, pretty girl. pretty fuckin’ tits.” leaning down, he kisses down your sternum, stomach, inching closer and closer to your center. he wastes no time grabbing your thighs and licking a nice, long stripe against your drooling cunt and sucking on your clit.

your back immediately arches up and your hands fly to grip eren’s hair, tugging at the locks and pulling him in closer so you can feel everything. “oh my god, eren.” the singer’s not shy at all, audibly sucking at you and reaching up to twist and pinch your pebbled nipples.

with another languid lick eren pulls himself away. he pulls his boxers down on and off, freeing his dick from the constraint. he rubs the thick, weeping tip up and down your slit, staring hungrily at the juices leaking out. the feeling of it makes you shiver in anticipation.

“mmm, mm-mm.” you push yourself up. “let me get ‘n top..” there’s a greedy look in your low eyes as you place your hand on eren’s solid chest and lay him down on the bed.

“take charge here too, huh?” your forwardness makes him chuckle as he watches you straddle his waist. “okay then. ride me.”

you brace yourself on your toes as his hand and yours grasp his shaft, directing it to your pulsing hole. you slide down gingerly onto him, his size quickly stretching you out. “ahh, fuck, eren. fuck…”

“you got it,” he assures you, one hand on your thigh as you sink lower and lower, taking him in inch by inch. he bites his lip at the wet tightness of your walls, squeezing and sucking him in. it makes him throw his head back, a couple of small pants escaping his mouth. “mmhm, fuck that pussy feels so good. take that dick, boss.” his hand raises only to land on your ass check with a sharp slap.

you start out slow at first, letting yourself adjust to the wideness of his dick but that quickly gets old. you’re soon addicted to the feeling of him fitting inside so perfectly. gripping his free hand in yours, you swivel and raise your hips faster and faster, effortlessly, desperate for that feeling of him pounding that oh so sweet spot. your juices slide down his length, the slap slap slap of your ass against his muscled thighs filling the room. “‘s so big, feels so good,” your voice slurs.

eren hisses from his spot under you, eyes trained on where you two connect. mouth slightly agape, he watches your cunt swallow him up and the fluid that leaks out. “yes, mama. keep fucking me just like that. feels.. f-fuckin’ amazin’…” his hands grab your plump ass cheeks, fingers digging in hard as he thrusts his hips up, driving the tip of his cock even deeper inside you and pulling a loud moan from you. “keep goin, mama, ‘m almost there, don’t stop, please..”

his pleading make you clench even tighter around him, and that feeling deep inside your tummy aches for release. you place a hand around his throat to better balance yourself, relishing in his low groan. your thighs quake and tremble, your hips meeting his eager thrust perfectly. “oh, my god; oh my god. i’m— shit!” you throw your head back in ecstasy, cumming hard enough on your client’s dick to leave you numb.

“aw, fuck, boss.” eren thrusts up to push his cum deep inside, holding you against himself to ensure a single drop doesn’t leak. “take it, take it..”

the two of you are left panting hard, bodies sweaty and gleaming with the afterglow of sex. you gingerly pull away, cunt left sore and spent from a round of sex months in the making. eren reaches over to caress your ebon lips, admiring the smooth, wet feeling once you roll onto your back. “no more attitude from you, yeah?”

“no more attitude from the man reduced to calling me ‘mama’ and begging to cum either, i’d assume.” your teasing laughter is cut off by him purposefully sinking three fingers deep inside you. “mmh…”

“mhm, sure.” roles reversed, eren climbs on top of you and stares down with green eyes aflame with lust through his tousled brown hair. “now i want to see what i can make you call me.”

#eren yeager x reader #eren yeager x black reader #eren jaeger x black reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren jeager x black reader #eren jeager x reader #eren x reader #eren x black reader #🏙.aotmodern #❤️‍🔥.aotsmut #kishibyesredditcollab

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fallenneziah · 3 months

Text

More 09 trans!ghost smut for my dudes.

Cw: Gloryhole, trans!ghost, 09!Ghost, amab reader. A/B/O dynamics. Blowjobs. Getting to the point where I kind of just want to make a male OC for my little man Riley.

A/n: I bring you more food. *Shakes bag*

You knew Ghost wasn't yours. Of course your side of base had gotten up to some lasting habits the last little bit including marking down those going away for their heats. You had ways of dealing with it. Especially since Captain MacTavish was being handed as many under the table favors as you were.

You didn't mind it. You didn't mind trying to do some paperwork and feeling the intense heat filling the room from under your desk. Smelling pheramones that licked off the paint on the walls and stung your nose.

Feeling Ghost's fingernails digging into your thighs, throat relaxing as he sloppily caught the spit that dripped down your balls with his tongue. Looking up at you as best he could while he pressed his face flush to your groin. Moaning and soaking himself in your scent and your skin.

Ghost certainly wasn't yours. But you had every right to be jealous of him. He was the town whore for his captains and COs. The recruits very rarely got to have any of what he could offer. You were just lucky you were in his roster of cocks to suck when he felt like it.

He was extremely professional off the field. But as soon as he felt he wanted it or that heat set in. Simon Riley was a changed man.

He wasn't one to get embarrassed either. So seeing him waltz into your office was no shocker. Nor was him walking over to your desk, pulling his hoodie over his head, tossing it in the corner of your office and then promptly shoving his face in your crotch.

"Well you're proud aren't you?"

He'd only huff, waiting impatiently for you to give him the word, before you finally leaned back and spread your legs, letting him unzip your pants and pull your cock out. Stroking the flaccid length, pulling up his mask to get his warm mouth over the soft head.

Crystal blue eyelids fluttering as he pressed himself down into you.

Riley was your good boy as far as you were concerned. Fuck the sounds coming from MacTavish's room or hearing him taking a pounding from a second lieutenant he had been avoiding all day.

Today you felt particularly on edge for one reason. Simon's heat would be starting sometime. He'd not been acting well the past couple days so it was clear that you were right. But you hadn't seen Simon since then.

And that made you upset. Knowing he could be in heat and he went to someone else before you.

Your jealousy kept you from doing work, getting up and wandering the halls. Just get it out of you, maybe hear Riley taking it in that pretty pussy.

You walked near the bathroom, hearing the door swing open and a recruit walked out. He zipped up his pants, looking around and spotting you. Quickly he rushed away embarrassed, not wanting to be caught up in whatever was happening.

Odd. You went to the bathroom, pushing open the door and hearing chuckles and groans. Sounds of sex filled the air, the smell of lingering sharp wine filled with putrid semen slicking the floor.

One of the lieutenants saw you, unsure if you would be in on what was happening.

"What's going on?" You asked, but it didn't take long for you to catch one particular scent you knew well. Peppermint candies and kindle staining the walls of scent. Hitting you like a blast of cold air on a summers day.

"One of the soldiers is in heat." The lieutenant said. You saw two of the bathroom stalls open in either side of one locked stall. You knew them well. The inspection team could never figure out what the holes were for.

You squatted, bending down to see familiar shoes and bunched combat pants. You grinned wickedly, feeling arousal stir in your gut. "Slutty boy..." You muttered, standing.

"You know which one?" You asked, knowing they wouldn't. They shook their heads.

You didn't waste any time. You walked to the stall to the right, seeing the kid in there pressing his groin further against the hole in the stall. Breathing heavy past his lips and bucking lightly.

You touched his shoulder, making him jump. "I-I-"

"Times up kiddo."

He blushed, gripping the top of the stall divider and screwing his hips a few more times, no longer able to draw out his orgasm.

A slick pop could be heard,followed by a sharp deep breath from the middle stall. A low groan, and a jostle on the stall dividers meant someone had found their new spot across from you.

You ushered the kid out, sloppily he wiped his cock and shoved it, still hard and throbbing in his pants.

You didn't feel much remorse, closing the stall door and locking it. No one came in until you were done.

You slowly unbuckled your belt, bending down to the hole. "Riley~ you're being a bad boy." You said lowly.

You heard a soft whine, seeing a hand reach through the hole, wiggling fingers. You grabbed it, pressing his fingers to your lips.

"Please."

You could tell he was desperate, the smell was almost sickening.

You pushed him back through, undoing the flap of your jeans and pulling the zipper. You pulled your cock out, slowly stroking it, feeling the veins pop and your cock grow hard just from the thought of his lips pursed around your swollen head.

Pre-cum slowly built up on the tip, and you fed it into the hole, feeling warm breath sweep across the tip. You shuddered, keeping your thumb pressed on the base of your cock. You couldn't see him, but you felt him jostle, his lips brushing your cock, moaning a little.

From the second stall down, someone was having their fun, their cock burrowed deep inside Riley's dripping tight cunt.

Simon took your cock in hand, slowly licking it, lapping at the pre-cum before going over the head. Your cock pressed into his throat, feeling his tight reflexes tense around your fat length.

It was hot. The noises, the groans, the slapping skin and squelching juices. You couldn't help yourself, thrusting forward and forcing him to take more of you, his nose brushing against the stall divider.

He pressed his palm flat on the divider for stability, forcing his throat to relax and awkwardly bobbing his head on your cock.

You could imagine sparkling blue eyes leaking tears down freckled pale cheeks. Choking and spitting up saliva, tongue feeding against the bottom of your cock as you force him to take more like a big boy.

But this wasn't enough. Not for Riley, or for you.

"Come on, you're taking your sweet ass time."

The voice next to you said, a cocky attitude and a rough accent.

"You can wait your fucking turn." You replied, knowing exactly who was behind that door. You chuckled, groaning softly as Riley's lips sucked your cock, pushing himself down, choking and then pulling away. Saliva dripping from his sore, raw lips to the tip of your swollen cock.

"You know, Riley. You're really a slut."

Riley let out a soft moan, his body shaking and jerking as he was taken.

"F-Fuck... Captain please..."

You hummed lowly, urging him back onto your cock. You felt pride knowing without even seeing him you could coax him back to your cock. Knowing that Riley was rightfully your slut no matter what anyone said. "Fuck... Suck it like you mean it. I know you can do better that that." You gripped the top of the divider, forcing your groin flush against the hole.

His warm wet mouth and throat were perfect. Tight and hot. Just for you.

"Good boy, good boy, choke on it, come on, I know you can, you fucking slut, you love sucking me off, don't you, taking my thick cock and letting everyone hear."

Riley batted tears away from his eyelashes, his knees feeling weak as he felt seed pooling into his cunt. He choked, forcing himself down on your cock, tongue lapping at the underbelly of veins as his own orgasm dripped into his messy pubic hair.

It felt so hot. He couldn't remove one more inch of clothing but fuck. This was all he could do to combat that feral little beast inside him that wanted to ride cock until his hips fell off or someone put a baby in him.

Wanting to drive seed from you, wanting to taste it, to enjoy it like he always did. He continued to suck, your hips pressed to the cold stall wall, hearing choke and feeling him swallow. Your orgasm building up, your cock pulsing in his mouth.

"Fuck, fuck, Riley, I'm gonna cum, gonna fill that pretty mouth, gonna make you drink every last drop. God damnit you're a good fucking boy, aren't you?"

Simon only sucked. Kept his mouth going and busy. With one last swallow you groaned, shooting your load in his mouth. His gag reflex went haywire, trying to swallow and coughing on the thick spend.

Pulling away from your cock and choking it up down his chin, dripping into the floor. He panted, swallowing thickly to recover. Your cock still twitching in the hole, leaking the last drops.

"F-fuck."

"I know you're not done."

The other stall door closed, a recruit stumbling out, looking back to make sure they weren't caught, and left the bathroom.

Simon panted, knees shaking. You slowly pulled your cock away, wiping what Simon didn't get and tucking yourself back into your jeans. "When you're done you know exactly where to go."

You fixed your belt and opened the stall. Letting the soldier waiting impatiently inside. You still heard Simon choke and pant, knowing you seared his insides with another imprint. Still your slut, still your hole, no matter how many other men thought they could fill him full. You'd always, always exceed.

#simon ghost riley #cod smut #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader smut #call of duty #male reader smut #dom male reader #alpha male reader #omega simon riley #trans simon ghost riley #09 ghost #ghost x male reader #simon ghost riley x male reader #Simon ghost riley x male reader smut #little blurb

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sarahisslytherin · 3 months

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𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐌 || 𝐁.𝐁. (PART IV)

summary: you’ve been receiving love letters from a secret admirer and you’re desperate to reveal his identity. contains: benedict being fucking adorable, fluff n’ angst! a/n: fourth and final part of this multi-chapter fic. PART I, PART II, PART III i've had such a blast writing this series, thank you all for your support and lovely words! now pull up the vitamin string quartet version of "love story" and enjoy!

Your heel dug into the gravel of the Bridgertons’ drive as you exited the carriage with grace. You gently raised your gown just centimeters off the ground as you walked towards the house, your mother and father following a fair distance behind you. You hadn’t stepped inside yet but your heart was already in your throat. You admired the front garden as you stepped up the marble stairs. Roses clung to the fences and wrapped themselves around the banisters decoratively. You took a deep breath. No matter what happens tonight, you told yourself, you will be alright.

The halls were lined with lords and ladies, dukes and duchesses of varying family names, old as the land itself. The sound of a string quartet wafted through the air, indiscernible over the chatter of civil conversation. You followed the dulcet tones, seamlessly weaving your way through the home you had come to know so well. You turned a corner and were met with an array of couples mid-dance, bodies moving with such effortless grace it was a pleasure to just stand by and watch from the sidelines. You surveyed the room, inspecting each man with almost analytical precision. One of them was your mystery man.

“There you are.” sighed Benedict as he appeared at your side. “I’ve been looking for you.”

You chanced a look at him, and you wished you hadn’t. He was gorgeous; his hair shone beneath the warm glow of the chandelier, his eyes shimmered like moonlight bouncing off water. Mostly it was his smile (that shy, boyish smile) that set off a chain of dominoes within you, resulting in a nervous pang in your stomach.

“Have you?” you asked, keeping your response brief so as to mask the waver in your voice.

“Indeed I have.” he smirked, but his good humor quickly faded as his face took on a more solemn look. “I wish to apologize for the things I said when I saw you last. I was a fool, I still am.”

“Ben-” you began to protest, but were quickly cut off.

“No, really!” He went on, his cheeks taking on a rosy shade. “You were right in every respect. And marriage doesn’t have to be the way I described. You know I have an inclination for hyperbole. Anyway, please don’t hate me. I couldn’t bear-”

“Benedict.” you said sternly. “You’re rambling.” You took his now trembling gloved hands in your own and met his gaze.

“I just wish you could forgive me.” he whispered for only you to hear.

“My dear Benedict.” you sighed, a sweet smile curling at the corner of your lips. “I forgave you the minute I left. I hate to admit this to you, but you should know I never have been able to stay cross with you for too long.” Now it was he who smiled, a beam so bright it alone could have lit up the ballroom.

“Well, then.” Benedict began. “There’s no use of a lovely lady coming to a ball just to stand around in corners, is there?” And with that, he gently led you onto the dance floor.

You fell into a rhythm that came surprisingly easy to you, as if you were exactly where you were meant to be. The strings filled the room with jovial, romantic music, lifting the spirits of anyone who would listen. It was impossible not to dance, not to feel as if you were floating. Your hand fit in Benedict’s like they were made for the sole purpose of intertwining. And when your eyes met, sparks flew, visible to no one but the two of you.

To anyone else, it might seem that the two of you were in love. What a silly thought. Though, you couldn’t help but feel that such an assumption might have some truth to it. You most definitely behaved in the childish, playful way lovers do. You confided in him without a shadow of a doubt. And he did always manage to send a certain prickle of excitement down your spine, not unlike the spark of an electric current. Good God!

You were in love with Benedict Bridgerton.

The song came to an end, and you curtsied before Benedict, while he bowed. You were sure he was about to request another dance but you were left wondering when Daphne tugged on your sleeve. “Where have you been?” she squealed delightedly. “Come, mingle!” You laughed, mostly from the nerves, as you shot Benedict one last glance over the shoulder before being whisked away.

You had made decent conversation and exchanged pleasantries with members of the ton for long enough. You were beginning to grow restless, your foot tapping mindlessly against the hard floor. You needed to find Benedict. You excused yourself sheepishly, but you had no time to give that any thought. You simply turned on your heel and began scouring through every room in search of Benedict.

You checked the parlor, the staircase, even the room where Benedict could usually be found painting or writing. He was nowhere to be found. Just when you were on the verge of abandoning hope, you thought to look in one last place.

The intoxicating scent of roses and lilacs overcame your senses as you stepped out into the garden. The lights from within the house bled out onto the patio, casting everything and everyone in it in a golden hue. There he stood, hands clasping each other tightly behind his back, standing straight as a pencil. He seemed to be deep in thought, since he was startled at your timid call. “Benedict?” He turned, his brows furrowed. “Tell me, dear.”

“I need to tell you something.” you began. “I have a bit of confession to-

“So do I.” he said, his eyes lowering to the neatly kept grass. “And I think I should go first.”

“What would make you think th-”

“It’s me!” he blurted out, not able to contain himself a second longer. “It’s always been me! Those letters, your admirer. Surely you must have known, somewhere deep in your soul, that it has always been me. Never before have I felt this way for anyone, my dear. Every moment I spend in your presence, it gives me such immense joy that I cannot help but carry it with me wherever I go. If you would have me, Lord, if you would have me- I should be the happiest man who ever lived, I swear it. I love you! Even when you are cross with me and I with you I will always love you with an unrelenting passion. Even if you should reject me, I will never stop loving you, for I have no choice in the matter. Surely there must be worse fates and than to love one so unconditionally.”

You stood before him, mouth slightly agape, eyes wide as plates and welling with tears. You tried to speak but couldn’t. So many thoughts rushed to your mind, memories of your many years as friends, every occasion where you felt what he described. There were too many to count. So instead of speaking, you simply took a step forward, pulled him in by his tie and pressed your lips to his in a kiss so passionate you knew right then it would become the subject of many sonnets and paintings from Benedict’s part. You felt as if all the golden light which bathed the garden was now wrapped around your heart.

“I wish this moment could last forever.” you said, a joyful tear streaming down your cheek.

Benedict laughed like a shy schoolboy as he wrapped his arms around you like a man starved and pulled you impossibly close. “Well, my love.” he beamed. “Forever has just begun.”

tagging: @velvetcloxds @oweninadaydream @holdthegirrrl @i-padfootblack-things @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @enchantedbytomandhenry @dd122004dd @marvel-r5 @marimarvelfan

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton angst #bridgerton

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wolvesofinnistrad · 1 month

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Now Expanded on AO3 here

The bed is hard and cold, not anything he isn't used to, but uncomfortable all the same. Especially with the way his body aches right now.

He wasn't even supposed to be on the ground, running into burning buildings wasn't really his main job description anymore. It was just...

The woman was screaming for her cat. And Tommy loves cats, he has his own, Missy. She's probably wondering where daddy is right now.

Who is he kidding, she probably didn't even notice he left for work.

No one is probably noticing he's missing. He likes the people at harbor, his coworkers, but they aren't family like the 118, Evan has told him how half the station will be sitting bedside vigil when any of them get injured. It must be nice to have that. After his childhood, shipped from one foster home to another, kicked out at 18, a family like that is something he's always wanted; fuck he acted like an absolute asshole just to try to get the old 118 to like him.

He's just mulling over whether calling Eddie and asking him to pick him up whenever they discharge him is too much when he hears the squeak of sneakers on the hospital floor and glances towards the door.

In stumbles Evan, looking scared and adorable and making Tommy's heart beat so fast the monitor actually beeps a few times in warning.

"Tommy, hey, are you okay?" He says, scrambling towards him, dragging a chair over with a loud scrape that has Tommy wincing at the sound.

For a moment all he can do is stare over at this human ball of sunshine, something in his chest unknotting. Fuck he really didn't think anyone would come, how did he...

"I, I'm okay," he says, trying to put on a brave face for Evan. He's older, more experienced, he should try to be calm and not get emotional.

"You look like shit," Evan says in that earnest way he has, sitting there and taking Tommy's hand in his own. His thumb brushes over Tommy's bruised knuckles, his concerned expression staring straight into Tommy's soul.

"Oh..." he says as he feels something crack open in him. Because Evan is here, he's holding his hand, he's worried for him he... He wants to take care of him, its written all over that adorable face. And well, that's, its not really something Tommy ever has anymore. "I'll be okay," he amends, and his hand squeezes Evan's even if it hurts a little. "How did you even?"

"The hospital called me. Apparently I'm your emergency contact?" Evan asks, and there's confusion there, but also something that looks like that same giddy contentment that Evan gets whenever Tommy does something to make him happy.

Fuck. He forgot he'd done that. That looked crazy and desperate, they'd only been dating a couple months.

"Uh, yeah it was either you or Chimney," he said, and fuck if that didn't sound pathetic. It wasn't like he didn't have friends. He had a lot actually, but none that he trusted implicitly like that. To see him weak and vulnerable. Chimney had saved his life though, and Evan well...

Evan leans in and kisses him. "Well I'm glad you did because I might not have known otherwise. Chim is at work right now so."

They sit for a while, Him recounting how he saved the cat but got blasted out a first floor window by the explosion. There wasn't any serious damage but he hurt like shit and had a lot of bruises and scrapes.

"Would you want to, y'know, come home with me and I can take care of you? Or I can stay at your place," Evan asks and fuck, fuck he is Not going to cry, he is not that kind of guy. But then, before he can answer.

Eddie rounds the corner, followed closely by Chim and Hen. Eddie's in plain clothes but Hen and Chim look like they came directly from the station.

"Tommy, shit, you okay?" Eddie asks, and Hen and Chim are looking at his chart by the bed and this is. Its too much. Its exactly what he wanted but wasn't at all expecting.

"I'm," he starts, looking at Evan for a moment before deciding, "I feel about as bad as I look, yeah." Evan squeezes his hand and his heart starts racing again and the monitor is beeping a little and he feels a tear going down his cheek. Evan wipes the tear away and then they're all talking. About what happened as Evan explains it for him, about a call where Hen saved a dog a few months back, about whatever. And fuck if Tommy doesn't feel safe, feel like he belongs.

Later that night, laying in his own bed, Evan having dragged him onto his broad chest in the same way Tommy usually does to him, he starts to think he could get used to this. He really hopes he can keep Evan, keep all of this for himself. Missy curls at the foot of the bed and purrs and he thinks, yeah, I feel like purring in contentment too.

#bucktommy #kinkley #tevan #evan buck buckley #tommy kinard #tommy kinard pov #mine #my fic

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kneelingshadowsalome · 9 months

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🤠🫶:

I am CACKLING like a cartoon villain oh my GOD you are a genius!!! Of course the toxic king breaks his back of COURSE he does the fucking idiot (affectionate), so there's fuck-all he can do with reader's big announcement that this was all worth it and he can totally get some...yknow, in a couple months. AHHHHH. And she just wanted to give him something to look forward to, motivation for the physical therapy <33 (she boops his nose while he lays there wishing for death and cowering from her, of course she does, omg. i love them your honor!!)

and maybe she gets more confident now that he can't fucking move 💀💀 (lmao, oh god. König if you weren't such a menace this would have been easier for her a lot earlier and nobody would be in this situation) and maybe this leads to way more sensual touching from her on her own initiative; she's curious, after all, and she does like him a lot and she's just trying to help him get better, you know? and König eats that shit up, starts telling her all about these itches and sore muscles he can't reach, could she be a dear (trying to act like he's not literally begging for her touch) and then he basically blacks out the first time her hands linger and drift, but probably better that than the things he was going to say to her. So König wants to die, this is too much, he's done, he's a goner each time she visits him. and damn her, she's a devoted little thing, never misses visiting hours. Always so sweet and caring towards him and it's the perfect image of a faithful, doting housewife without the wife or the house or the sex part of it lmao. And of course he can’t move when all this is happening!!! so basically just more torture and his mind just kind of breaks into little tiny pieces held together by demented lovesick lust-filled fantasies. he says some absolutely filthy things (makes the cunt licking look family friendly in comparison), he can't control it really anymore, and poor reader is shocked/horrified and blushing furiously, but thinks it's the medications and the pain and whatnot, tries to be understanding, only chides him once she gets her shock under control (and he's actually stone cold sober the entire fucking time lmao, but he ain't telling her that, she'd run if she knew).

AND THEN MAYBE~~ (dun dun dun) one day reader is FINALLY reaching under the stupid hospital bed blanket - he can feel her soft little fingertips and carefully manicured nails travel down his abs, trace the V of his hips (my man is going to black out again, good lord) and she's looking at him with big round eyes and she's nervous she's going to do it wrong and he won't like it (as if), and it's taking FOREVER for her to get her hand between his legs bc sweet little thing just wants to do it right, and he's out of his mind, half-crying, whisper-begging at this point (it's probably not even English, not German either, just mindless pleas). Her hand FINALLY wraps around his length and he's lucky he doesn't cum right then and there; she's blushing so violently at taking a man in her hands for the first time and she's seeking HIS approval with those pretty doe eyes as she bites her lip. So of course that's when there's a knock at the door (the universe hates him, he's going to scream, whoever this is is lucky he can't move and they might die anyway from the blast radius of sheer rage) and a doctor comes in for daily rounds. Reader barely has time to yank her hand back before doc sticks his head through the privacy curtains and yep our man's heart might actually just stop, he is just going to keel over right then and there.

so not even a handjob for our poor king <3 if he doesn’t die (lol) he transfers to in-home care IMMEDIATELY and finally gets reader to himself in a more private setting where he can lock the fucking door. this is the part where I look away lmao, I'd leave him blue-balled & suffering forever ...am i a mean person?? also RIP to that doctor. this verse is so hilarious & wonderful and i love it, feels like a tug of war between tropes and genres if that makes sense which results in your delightful genius works, thank you thank you <333

This is so beautiful. I am puddle & I can't thank you enough for collaborating & I LOVE YOU Howdy anon 💋 and um, I think I got a little too excited about their first time lol oops (I can't leave him blue-balled forever! Poor man would die of heart failure 🥺)

(Tamara and Demon (1864), Mihály von Zichy)

Word count: 3.7 k

CW: 18+ NSFW. Corruption kink goes brrrr. Masturbating, dirty talking, obsessive/yandere König. Awkward handjob. First time/virgin!reader. Kinda sweet and fluffy 🩷 Also coersion/mildly dubious consent, tread carefully!

A/N: You can find the story of König x virgin!reader and their relationship so far by following the tag (könig x virgin reader)

Oh she visits him alright!

She’s much braver now that König is bedridden and can’t move. They actually spend more time together after the weightlifting accident. The intense stares haven’t gone anywhere, he's actually gotten worse in that department, but otherwise, König is behaving quite nicely.

He seems to like it when she reads to him next to his bed, which is immensely cute in her opinion. Armed with a new book in the crook of her arm, she’s on her way to visit him again for another session.

She's already accustomed to simply floating in after giving his door a light rap. She's also gotten used to the sight of guns and knives and the smell of army storage, even the manly, pungent stench of sweat that lingers on top of it.

But it’s not the potpourri of masculine military scents that stop her at the door and nearly make her drop her book.

The King himself is lying naked on the bed – well, naked except for the bag of a mask he seems to hold on to like it’s his soul. This time, she doesn’t even see it: her eyes fly straight to the towering erection he’s stroking, urgently with one hand while the other cups a pair of shaved, pale balls.

"König…?"

The man who calls himself King curses – in German or in English, she can’t tell. The sight of him there, caught red-handed on touching himself, only makes her feel sorry for him. König has nowhere to run and hide, nothing to cover himself with, he's not supposed to even move yet. And he is not the one who should be embarrassed, after all, she's the one who barged in on his privacy.

Although… König doesn't look embarrassed.

He only looks drunk and sweaty and in need.

She thinks about turning back and leaving him with hurried excuses because what the hell is she supposed to do…? Read him a book? He is still gripping his cock like it’s a sword or something, breathing like he just ran a marathon.

And speaking of swords, that weapon is far too big for her... Hell, she doesn’t know much about swords but she would deem that sword far too big for any woman.

If she were clever, she would run away from that stare and that huge, monstrous cock. But she’s not that clever, that much is clear because everyone she’s told she’s dating König have warned her about him. Every cell in her body is warning her of danger, but she keeps running back to him, over and over again…

Well, at least he can’t move, she thinks, takes a hesitant step, and places the book down on a table. Just when she’s about to whisper some calming, soothing words to this beast, the beast speaks.

"Take your clothes off," comes a husky command from the bed, and she freezes with her fingertips still on the cover of her cute little book about German fairytales (she knows König likes his fairytales bloody).

Normally, she would make a scene out of such audacity. She might even storm out of the room and vow to never speak to him again for daring to talk to her like that.

But…

He looks so desperate. König looks like a giant bound for torture on that bed. And he's not the only one who has been tormented these past few weeks… The incident at the hospital has plagued her dreams every night as she has tucked herself in with the memories of König's… sword.

Perhaps it would help with his pain if she offers him relief in his time of need. No harm can come from that, surely. She doesn't know how exactly taking her clothes off will help, but if that is his wish, then it’s the least she can do.

To her and his surprise, her hands drift to the hem of the top she’s wearing. She’s feeling rather wild – something about seeing König completely naked yet unable to move is making her act like this. Like she's the brave one. Like she’s in control now.

Dedicated to her task, she pulls the shirt over her head.

Nothing moves on that bed for a good long while. As far as she can tell, König might've stopped breathing. But by the time she takes her bra off, there’s a swallow under that hood. Then the hand slowly starts to stroke again, the moist, slick sounds continue as her breasts fall free from their confinement.

She’s breathing heavily too, and the man on the bed is stiff as a stone: every single muscle in his body is pulled taut as he stares at her breasts like they’re the Revelation of John. Then those blue eyes lift to her face just before another command is issued.

"Take off the rest."

"The–the rest…?"

"I just want to watch you."

His voice is hoarse and croaky, and she feels even more sorry for him – König must be in so much pain and she just keeps on teasing him. She started this, so perhaps it’s better just to see it through.

What’s crazy though is that he actually moans when she gets out of her pants, socks, and finally, her underwear. The slick sounds of fapping increase, and he’s moaning.

She hasn’t even touched him yet… She’s just standing there before him completely naked, heat pooling low in her belly as König continues to work himself with what looks like both pleasure and pain.

"Komm… Come here," he orders next, out of breath but surprisingly politely, and she has no other option than to approach his bed. She sits down as chastely as possible, then almost jumps back up when a steel-hard thigh brushes against hers.

"Touch it. Ja?"

Her eyes grow as wide as they can go as she takes in the cock she has touched once before, briefly and under a hospital sheet. Now it’s right there, foreign and demanding.

Better just to see it through, her mind tweets as her hand reaches out through what feels like water. Like before, there's a sharp intake of air under the hood as she takes him in her hand. It’s even hotter than she remembered, and gives a tight pull the instant her fingers wrap around it.

"Like this…?"

"Just like that…"

Her meek little mouse peeps and multiple bats of eyelashes are like drug to him, it seems. The man is as tight as a bowstring when she starts to move her hand up and down, mimicking the motions she just saw him do. They're not as fast as his, and her grip must be way gentler, but she seems to do surprisingly well for an inexperienced virgin. The poor man looks like he’s about to faint on that bed.

What she doesn’t expect, however, is König to touch her.

A large, warm palm sweeps across her ribs and lands on her breast, softly, as if he's concerned that he might scare her off. She's the one who's stopped breathing now… And then he rubs her, squeezes her. Gently… Reverently.

"You're soft," comes a strained sigh from the bed as she tries to keep her own grip both tight and gentle. She’s starting to get so wet she fears she will stain his sheets. Bewildered, she tries to change her position, but the palm cupping her breast seems to have bound her to the bed too. Nothing moves, except her hand and his as they explore each other. A giant and an angel...

Something hot and wet meets her hand as she strokes him – is he cumming already…? But it can't be, she has heard there’s supposed to be quite a bit of it when a man cums, and there’s only a few ample drops of clear liquid oozing out of the slit on his tip.

"Can't wait for the day I get to make you scream," he rasps, and her heart is hammering in her chest as more cum-like liquid streams from the slit of his cock, adding to the lewd, moist sounds of the handjob she’s giving him.

König doesn’t know she has never even kissed a guy…

"We'll… we'll get there," she tries to soothe him, thanking her lucky stars this man can't move.

"I want to fuck you," he continues, sounding more and more desperate. "Good and hard… until you cry under me. Want to see if you can take it all in."

"König…"

"It’s a long cock, ja? I can make you squirt."

"König, I'm still a virgin… You can't–"

"Nh–Sorry… sorry."

His head falls back on the pillow, his muscles relax just for the tiniest moment. But if she thought he would finally leave her to it, she was wrong. The hand of a giant killer drops between her legs next.

She’s sitting on the bed like she would sit on a side saddle, with one leg slightly bent, giving the horniest man on earth good enough access to the heat between her legs. She doesn’t stop him – she doesn’t even want to – as broad fingertips meet her pubic hair and slip between her already slick folds.

"...Was? Pretty angel is all wet," he comments on her state of mess. Approvingly: like all his fears have suddenly disappeared.

She has to fight the urge to roll her head back and moan as those agile fingers start to give her full, generous strokes. She almost messes up her rhythm while stroking his cock, which seems to have gotten even harder.

His fingers delve into her with more courage, they tease her tight, tender nub with excited circles. She tries not to jolt and shiver as he makes her even more slick, tries to ignore how her nipples grow hard from that burning stare alone.

"Such a pretty girl… and so wet. You sure you don't want it?"

She thinks about it – how it would feel if he somehow was able to take her on that bed. If he pushed that cock inside her and if it would hurt or make her moan even more. Even the thought of trying to fit that inside her makes her thighs feel like pudding.

"I don’t know… You're still recovering."

"Heh… That's not a problem. You can be on top. I'll help," he offers as if it’s a gentlemanly thing to do, to help her bounce on that huge cock.

"I–I'd rather do it the classic way."

"I'll show you classic when I get better," he promises with unconcealed greed. "I'll show you all the other ways too. We’ll do it any way you like."

She tries hard not to whimper when hearing his promise. She tries her best to pleasure the biggest cock she’s ever seen. It’s ridiculous that it’s the only cock she’s ever seen... What sort of a cruel joke was it from the universe to choose this king-sized Austrian to be her first man?

She wonders how König would react if she told him he’s too big for her.

Would he try to change her mind? Would he have a meltdown?

Would he cry…?

She doubts if this man ever cries. The last time a brutal soldier like him shed tears was probably when he was a kid. But he did look like he was about to cry that one time when she booped his nose...

And despite being a cold-blooded soldier and somewhat awkward at times, König has always been so, so delicate with her. He's tender even now, touching her with the gentlest avarice there is. But that searing stare wants to possess her, devour her, and it makes her bite her lip nearly to the point of drawing blood.

"Sit on my face?" he offers next, this time sounding so desperate it's almost pathetic.

Sit on his face…

What would he even do? Lick her? Try to push his tongue inside her while finishing himself?

The thought alone makes her mess up her rhythm again and causes her pussy to pulse more wetness on his fingers. She secretly hopes he would slip at least one of those fingers inside.

"Let me see your cunt," he begs. God – this giant mercenary is begging to see her poor, aching pussy. "Just… let me at least taste you–"

She can’t even reply before the hand between her legs gives a sudden twitch and stops those delicious rubs. Actually, his whole body is going rigid.

"König…? Am I hurting you?"

"I'm–gonna cum…"

Oh god.

Oh god ohgod-

She's not sure what gives her more of a fright: the sound that leaves her soldier boyfriend as he cums, or the bright, hot flash of liquid that shoots from the cock in her hand.

He groans like it’s torture. Long and hard, so loud that she’s sure other people can hear it in the neighboring rooms, perhaps even further than that. There’s one, two, three spurts of thick, hot liquid, after that, she loses count because it spills to coat his stomach, it runs down her hand, and she’s pumping him in a frenzy while he just keeps on moaning.

"Slow, slow down–" he tries to groan in the middle of his climax and she obeys immediately, reveling in how his cock still throbs in her hand when she finally stops moving altogether. More cum gushes out with every strong pulse, even if the eruptions are less violent. Ropes of it already cover his abs, it coats her hand with thick film – it's far more than she would ever have expected, and a shiver goes through her as she imagines what it must feel like to take all of that semen inside her…

"Ah… Das war wirklich…" König sighs dreamily while she must be looking like a startled deer.

Yes, that was really something… She doesn’t know what to do with his cock, or her hand, or the mess that coats half his body.

Luckily, he instructs her to take his old shirt from the floor and clean herself with it. She cleans him with it too, dabs the black t-shirt over his muscled stomach, even tries to swipe his crotch with it as gently as she can.

König looks happier by the minute, looks at her like she’s an angel or something, and when she fully commits herself to getting him cleaned up, he gets another erection. She’s quite horrified – how is this even possible…? She thought men would need at least hours to get it back up again.

"Come on top," he offers, sounding all but seductive with that commanding tone.

She swallows, thinking if König wants to be a "gentleman" and finish her too. With his tongue... or something else.

"Just for a hug? We don't have to put it in."

She seems to be under some spell tonight, because she simply drops the poor, cum-stained shirt back on the floor and crawls to the bed and on top of him.

König is hot and lean as she presses herself against him, her thighs now straddling the intimidating thing between his legs. Her head falls right beside his mask-covered face, and the smell of guns and fuel and sweat is prominent there, as is his natural odor, the woodland musk she has grown so fond of.

"There we go," his arms go around her waist, pressing her tighter against him. There’s no escape now, she thinks, but like always with König, she eventually softens and relaxes, molds against him… Accepts her fate.

"You did well, Meine Liebe," he even caresses her head as she slowly melts into his hold. "I’m sorry if I frightened you. Will you forgive me?"

"Um, of course."

"A gentleman should always apologize if he has upset his lady. Do you agree?"

"Uh… Yes."

"I promise to be a good man. The best man you could ever hope for."

She bites her lip as König continues to caress her. She’s far from upset, but she doesn’t want to tell him that and excite him too much. Otherwise he might end up hurting himself. He hugs her tight, and seems to have calmed down more than ever.

Is this what an orgasm does to a man...? The change is drastic, and her lover feels warm, and tender, and inviting. He even whispers more promises on her skin. They're nonsensical but gentle, König is probably trying to be romantic, but she can feel how his breaths grow heavier as time goes on. After all, they're both naked, pressed tightly together, closer than ever before, and he's having an erection again...

She tries not to shiver at the things he tells her. The husky promises of love and protection: "You are mine now, ja? Don’t be afraid. I would never hurt you. I will always keep you safe." And then, "You’re still wet, mein Mädchen… How about we practice just a little bit? We'll do it slow. Ja? I will make you moan…"

He coos those things in her ear while holding her in place for his cock. She starts to move on her own accord; it’s like her hips have their own will. Soon, her entrance meets the tip of him, still hot and bulged, and she starts to grind against it with barely restrained greed. She is wet – wetter than ever.

König curses multiple times under his breath, and she feels so, so filthy for loving how unhinged he is, how unhinged she is – spread wide on top of him like that, trying to get off of the faintest touch of his cock. She’s so soaked that the hot tip of him glides across her folds with no effort at all.

She feels like she’s doing something forbidden, taking her pleasure from him like that, but König doesn’t seem to know what the word filthy even means. He keeps praising her, guiding her, helping her, telling her how good she feels, that she’s doing so, so well.

Soon, he’s asking to put it in – just the tip.

She tries her best not to sound too needy as she breathes a soft, mousy "Yes."

"How does that feel?"

He’s panting, few inches of thick cock inside her, and she thinks, did she just lose her virginity? Is this it? Why isn’t it hurting?

“You like that, hmm?”

He feels so, so good, pressing her against him, spreading her legs with his own, trying to feed more of that marvelous thickness inside. It doesn’t hurt, at least not yet. It makes her dizzy to even think what she must be looking like, with her legs spread and a huge cock partly inside her.

She should say something… What was it that he asked? Oh yes, if she likes it. She more than just likes it, and tries to push herself down to get more of him in. König reacts immediately with a ton of praise leveled at her in the softest possible way.

“That's it, that's it, pretty girl, take it in…”

Him cheering her on like that only makes her decide that it’s time to let go and let go for good. But she can’t get him in by herself, not while he’s holding her a prisoner like this.

"More… König, please," she hears herself whimper.

God, is this all it took...? Him holding her close and letting her find the joys of sex herself? Apparently so, because he sounds goddamn smug when he turns his head to rasp more needy, throaty things in her ear.

"Ah… Knew you'd beg for it… "

His voice makes her inner walls clamp down on him, and that’s when it hurts, but only slightly. She wants him so much that it’s painful. And König… God, he keeps on showering her with praises and promises.

"I'll show you how good it can be… That's it, let me hear you. It's a good cock, ja? Good cock for a pretty girl…"

It’s not even fully in before he starts the thrusts. That’s when she knows she has lost her virginity. She’s being plunged. Not taken… Just… loved, thoroughly and deeply.

When she moans, finally sounds as filthy as can be, he tells her how tight she is. How good she feels. He says he’s going to cum again soon. But not before her…

He doesn’t need to instruct her to rub her clit on his pelvis in rhythm with the thrusts. She is smart enough to do that by herself. And the thoughts of This is it, I’m not a virgin anymore have turned into Is it possible to cum on your first time…?

Everything’s perfect, all things considered. But there’s something missing.

"König," she swallows arduously. "I’ve never been kissed... Would you– Could you…?"

He stops moving, releases his hold a little. A strong heart is hammering inside his chest, she can feel it against her own fluttering heartbeat.

Is it stupid of her to ask…? Will he only laugh at her for being so sentimental?

Apparently no, because it’s the warmest possible command that surrounds her this time.

"Lift the mask, angel."

By the time their lips meet, both hesitant and needy, he's fully inside her and holding her like a mountain. She feels like she's in a fairytale now: the only thing that moves is his mouth, and hers. Theirs is a slow, hungry rhythm.

Her first kiss is not only awkwardly romantic and sweet, it’s sinfully good.

The kiss also does things she did not expect. Her pussy goes tight around him, so tight that a whimper or two escape her nose, and König only purrs – she feels like the softest little creature in the embrace of a lean jaguar.

And she thinks…

Why on earth didn't they do this months ago?

#answered #yandere könig #könig smut #könig x virgin reader

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maxsimagination · 4 months

Text

𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁'𝘀 𝗺𝘆 𝗴𝗶𝗿𝗹 - 𝗹.𝗯𝗿𝗼𝗻𝘇𝗲

warnings: fluff, kisses

----

it was the day of the finals for the women's champions league and i was super nervous. it was barça versus lyon and i had been selected to be in the starting eleven. i could never have imagined that i would ever be here, soccer was my dream when i was a kid, and now here i was. 21 years old, almost 22, and already playing a finals match.

from the moment i signed with barça, i knew this club was it for me. it was everything i had ever imagined and more. my teammates were amazing and they felt more like family than anything.

lucy was the first person i met at barça, she showed me around and introduced me to the rest of the team. we got along like a house on fire, the whole team was rooting for us when we finally got together. that was almost a year ago, and to say that lucy was nervous because of the age gap was an understatement.

it was a laughable matter to me because i had assured her that her age only made her that much more attractive to me. along with her abs. she had grinned down at me with a cocky expression in response to my words.

all these thoughts flowed through my mind as we drove to training. ona and kiera met us when me and lucy walked in together, exchanging fist bumps and hugs. there was an air about the team, something like confidence but with a hint of nerves. i must have been the only player that was actually freaking out, i was still new and much younger than some of the other girls.

i knew soccer but this is the finals we were talking about. lucy must have been able to sense the tension in me, because she came closer to my side and wrapped a hand around my waist.

"we can do it, you can do it." she whispered in my ear. it was like our mantra, a chant we whispered when we were nervous. i smiled up at her, so thankful i had her by my side. "thank you, luce." "okay lovebirds, let's go!" ona yelled out, herding is out of the changing rooms.

i just laughed at her antics and walked out with them. we got going immediately, jonatan had us going hard, but not too hard as to wear us out for the game in a couple of hours.

——

we had just gotten to the stadium we'd be playing at, there was no one in the stands at all, they'd cleared it for an hour so we could warm up in peace. everyone else had their own pre-game rituals but the only one that i took on was laps around the field. i had my airpods and my music so it was a perfect fit.

i took off around the track, music blasting in my ears. it was a calming sensation, just running with nothing else going on around you. it helped me focus.

i kept running, until it was almost too much, finishing my warmup and stopped over by lucy, who was sitting on a soccer ball and fiddling with her water bottle. and she called me weird. "hey. you ready to crush lyon?" "fuck yea." she stood up to tower over me and the whole team was ordered off to the change rooms.

the fans were starting to trickle into their seats, and soon it was a full house. every seat booked out. my nerves were at an all time high.

everyone was almost ready and i put on my lucky boots, lucy had gotten them for me for my birthday last year and i'd won every game in them since. finally everyone lined up in the tunnel, ready to run out.

a hand on my back that i knew was my girlfriend, reassured me that we could do it. we could hear the commentators announce our team, and we started jogging out onto the field. everyone made it out and we all got into positions. the starting whistle was blown and we were off.

——

it was half time, and the score was 1-0 to barça. with me and kiera in the mid field and lucy and ona defending, we were almost impossible to get through. kiera had gotten the ball from lyon, racing up the field and passing it to me. i took off and weaved my way towards the goal. their goalkeeper saw me coming and i knew i didn't have a clear shot.

kiera was there so i shot it back over to her, she kicked it forward but it hit a defender, ellie carpenter. she managed to get it away from the goal, but not far enough. i got it back again and booted it straight towards the net and it went in.

first goal of the game and i was elated. i ran down the field, straight for lucy, who caught me when i jumped towards her. we were now getting ready to head back out there for the last half. lyon was getting more aggressive, violent even. the weren't afraid to push, shove, trip or pull.

they tried everything to score a goal and eventually they succeeded. it was wendie renard who kicked it in, assisted by vicki bècho. i was getting pissed off now too. we just needed one more goal and we were in the lead.

it was the 60th minute of the game and i had the ball, racing down the field again. i was so close, and i had a clear shot, but just as i was about to kick, there was a shooting pain in my left leg. i fell to the floor and turned to see selma bacha run off with the ball.

she had sunk her cleats into my leg on purpose. the medics came running on to inspect the damage and what needed to be done. lucy was right by my side the second i went down.

eventually they helped me off the field and subbed patri on so they could ice my leg properly. i sat on the sidelines for a solid 15 minutes and did warmups to make sure i could go back on. they called aitana off so she could get a rest and i ran back on.

my teammates all gave me high fives as i ran past, happy i was back on. we only had another 15 left in the game before it went to extra time so i was desperate to score another goal.

we were so close to getting the ball back and when we did it was alexia, our captain, who was streaking up the field. not surprisingly, lucy was close behind her, and so were me and kiera. alexia couldn't get a clear shot so she passed it to me then to kiera. i moved further back on the field in case it rebounded again.

kiera still had the ball and was trying to play it around the lyon defenders, but they weren't easy to break. she kicked it back to lucy who took the chance to score and shot it straight into the net.

i was overjoyed and ran back up the field to where lucy was, screaming "that's my girl!" and just in time too, the last minute ticked over and the ref called it game over, we won. i slammed into lucy and she almost lost her balance but held onto me anyway.

i was probably more happy than she was, based off of my reaction. she had saved the game and scored the game-winning goal. all of our other teammates ran to us, including the ones on the sidelines and we all had a group hug.

it was the best experience ever, winning the champions league and scoring a goal in the final game. and i did it with lucy by my side.

——

the ride home was amazing, everyone was so happy and lucy had the happiest expression i'd seen. we made it back to our hotel for the night and everyone immediately went to their own rooms, they were that tired. i refused and tagged along with lucy to her room so we could celebrate together.

we were comfortable together, lying on the bed in each others arms. i had drifted off into my own world just thinking of the huge accomplishment both me and her had achieved.

"what are you thinking of over there?" lucy's voice cut through my daydream. "you." i had a cheeky grin on my face to tease the older woman more. "oh really?" her eyes were sparking with desire as she turned on her side to face me. i shrank underneath her intense gaze.

"what about me, love?" i couldn't even get any words out, my throat had gone dry. lucy took things into her own hands and leaned forward to kiss me. it turned into an heated make out, our tongues battling against the other. she won that match and i opened my mouth to deepen the kiss. when we pulled apart, she only uttered one thing before diving back in.

"that's my girl."

#woso #woso x reader #woso community #lucy bronze #lucy bronze x reader #lucy bronze imagine

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carmyboobear · 3 months

Text

ALEXITHYMIA CH 2: alcohol, garlic, and lipstick

Roommate AU: Carmy Berzatto x Reader (R18)

ao3 link ch 1 ch 3 ch 4

Summary: Carmy can’t put into words how he feels about his roommate. It’s only been a couple months, but here he is looking forward to going home and sharing a smoke with them. That’s all it is, though. There are no underlying feelings, none at all, even if everyone around him has something to say about it.

Or: Carmy is repressed as ever, but through the combined power of vulnerability, weed, and the horny, Carmy too can find love.

tags for this ch: alcohol use, throwing up, semi-permanent lipstick, accidentally embarrassing carmy in front of all his coworkers

Chapter 2: alcohol, garlic, and lipstick (8k)

He doesn’t get to see them for a couple days after that night on the couch.

This is more the rhythm he’s used to—early mornings and late nights, out of the house so long he never sees them. The next several days blur together into what feels like one very, very long day. When he sleeps, he doesn’t dream. It often feels as if he didn’t sleep at all.

Their past exchange haunts him. He catches himself slipping, lost in thoughts as he watches the pot simmer. They’ve never had any sort of conversation like that before. Sure, they didn’t really talk about anything, but…

But in that same vein, Carmy can’t stop thinking about it. He wonders if they’re thinking about it, too. The thought feels like a tangled ball of yarn in the pit of his stomach, writhing and messy. He shouldn’t be thinking about it—they’re just roommates, after all.

He’s restlessly worried about that moment on the couch, and yet, he can’t even muster up the words as to why.

Because if you finally say it, it’ll all be real, he thinks vaguely, somewhat hysterically to himself, and that’s where it always ends.

Wednesday evening, he comes in from home exhausted as ever. Nothing new. He feels the strain in his wrist when he shoves his shitty front door open—obviously overdid it in the kitchen. After shoving his sneakers off, he flicks the lights on in the kitchen, and he spots a bright pink sticky note on the counter.

Now that’s new.

He walks up to it, squinting at the pink that’s almost neon under the fluorescents. It’s a note from his roommate.

hey carmy, it reads, scribbled on in pen. im going out with friends tonight, so I won’t be back until later + leftovers in the fridge if you want any :)

Carmy makes a small noise of acknowledgement to himself. Picks up the note, puts it back down.

Running a hand through sweaty hair, he opens the fridge. It’s full of ingredients, perhaps far too many for a guy who barely cooks for himself. Ironically enough, it’s the one who doesn’t cook for a living who keeps the fridge stocked. There's a lot of miscellaneous sauces, near empty coffee creamers, and mysterious tupperwares.

He spots a new tupperware that has another pink sticky note on it, so he grabs that one out of the fridge.

He pops it open. There’s condensation on the inside of the lid, and it drips onto the floor. Inside sits pasta, potatoes, chicken, onions, and peppers, all cooked into a cheap, yet harmonious meal. It’s a familiar instant pot recipe.

It tastes familiar, too. The ingredients together taste like home. He’s not sure if it even tastes like his home, although surely his mom cooked something like this. As he stews over the flavors in his mouth, Italian seasoning, garlic, and black pepper, he wonders if maybe this apartment is starting to feel like home.

The thought is so ridiculous he shakes his head to himself, but…

It feels warm coming home to someone. He can’t deny that he likes that feeling. Maybe he’s settling into this place more than he thought. Maybe he’s…getting more used to having a roommate than he expected.

Maybe I’ll see them tomorrow, he thinks as he stares at his dark bedroom ceiling. He’s so sleepy he can’t even help himself from thinking about them. The lethargy always goes full blast as soon as his back hits the mattress.

Graciously, he doesn’t dream when he sleeps. Unfortunately, he wakes back up again in only a matter of hours.

When he reluctantly wakes up and squints at his phone, he sighs. 1:14 am. Slapping his phone back down on his side table, he stubbornly shuts his eyes in an attempt to go back to bed. It would’ve been too nice if his body let him sleep throughout the night.

Then, there’s the sound of the door opening.

He listens to the familiar sound of their footsteps against their old hardwood floor. It’s admittedly a little strange—it’s usually the other way around, with Carmy coming back home so late they’re already asleep. Except for this time.

They’re in the kitchen, he deduces, carefully listening. It’s easy to hear everything, especially in the quiet of night. As he closes his eyes again, listening, he imagines them.

The sound of the fridge opening. No, the freezer—it always squeaks when it opens. It shuts. Yes, now that’s the fridge door. He imagines them looking into the fridge just like he was a couple of hours ago, tilting their head thoughtfully to the side. He’s not sure if they know that they do that.

By all means, it should be disruptive, the way they’re opening and shutting cabinets in the kitchen. And yet, as he lays there, snuggled drowsily into his sheets, it starts to sound like a lullaby. He listens to them, thinking of them cooking, and he begins to drift to sleep.

“Fuck—fuck! Shit shit shit—”

There’s a sharp yelp, and Carmy’s jumping out of bed.

If he’s being honest, he probably wasn’t actually going to fall back asleep so easily anyway. He rarely ever does.

He stumbles into the brightly lit kitchen, dressed in sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt. The lights are so bright that he’s squinting, struggling to adjust.

“Sorry if I woke you up, there was a roach,” they explain meekly before he can think of what to say. They’re standing there, bottle of roach killer in their hand.

Carmy looks down. As expected, there’s a big dead roach, sitting in a pale pool of roach killer.

“I…see.” He yawns, a big one that makes the corners of his eyes tear up. “You didn’t wake me up, I was already awake. You just got back?”

“Mhm,” they reply, reaching for some paper towels, and that’s when Carmy really notices their outfit. Black, flashy, clearly meant for a night out at a bar. Dark colors always looked good on them. Their makeup matches, dark and smudged around their eyes. Seeing them dressed up like this makes it nearly impossible to deny how much he likes looking at them.

He in particular likes the plunging neckline on their thin shirt, dipping right down their chest.

Stop stop stop, he thinks suddenly, tearing his eyes away. He’s lucky they’re not looking at him, instead preoccupied with throwing away the roach corpse on the floor. He looks around almost a little frantically to find something, anything else to talk about.

“What’s this?” Carmy asks, peering into the pan on the stovetop.

“I, like, really want garlic bread right now.” They lean onto the counter, looking at the pan with him. “So I was making garlic bread. But then that fucking roach came and killed my vibe.”

This is when Carmy notices that they’re rather drunk.

“Huh,” he says. “Isn’t this, uh, just a piece of bread?”

“Oh.” They pause, lifting the bread gingerly with one finger. “Um, this is so totally a piece of bread. No butter. No nothing.” They start laughing then, leaning harder onto the counter and covering their face. “Fuck, that is so dumb.”

“You were getting there,” he comments, unable to resist an amused smile.

“I couldn’t find the garlic powder,” they admit, face turning into a frown. “Or, like, anything else. But I need garlic bread, Carmy. I need this.”

“We have garlic cloves,” he points out.

“You cannot expect me to mince a fuckin’ garlic right now,” they retort, motioning at him with their arms so aggressively they stumble towards him. Instinctively, he puts his hands on their shoulders, and tries not to think too hard about it.

They’re warm, and they smell like perfume, weed, and alcohol.

“I think you should sit.” Carmy suggests, an eyebrow raised. He doesn’t think he’s seen them this drunk before.

“Hm. Yeah. Imma do that.” They trudge over to one of their bar stools at the kitchen island, slumping onto it. Their shirt droops, revealing more skin, and Carmy pointedly looks away. There’s the sound of their forehead smacking against the counter, and then a groan.

“Uh, you ok?”

“I’m drunk and I want garlic bread,” they whine, flopping their arms across the counter. “But I can’t find the garlic—the garlic powder, and…I’m too stupid to make it right now,” they end in a miserable mumble.

“I could make you some,” Carmy hears himself saying.

“...Really?” They tilt their head up to look at him, eyes big and full of wonder. “You would do that for me?”

“It’s just garlic bread,” he tries, instantly stricken with embarrassment. He hopes he’s hiding it well enough.

“But you’re making it!” They make a contented noise. “Imagine getting the best chef in the world to make you garlic bread.”

“I can do a lot better than garlic bread. Just so you know,” he says, entirely in an attempt to hide the way their praise makes him feel giddy.

“I know.” His attempt backfires—their response is so genuine it makes him feel worse. “You could definitely do a million times better than garlic bread.”

“Maybe not quite a million, but somewhere around there,” he says, and then he starts working.

He starts with a clove of garlic, mincing it quickly on their small wooden cutting board. He stands at the kitchen island with them, eyes flickering between the garlic and their watchful gaze. They’re still strewn across the counter, cheek pressed against the surface.

“You literally mince garlic so good,” they mumble, eyes glued to his knife. “I wanna do it like you.”

“I could teach you.” The garlic is chopped thin, and then scraped against the edge of his knife. “Just takes a lot of practice, really.”

“Teacher Carmy,” they say, almost like a song. They’ve got this big, dopey smile on their face that makes Carmy’s heart hurt. “Mr. Berzattooo,” they add, their smile growing more mischievous.

“I don’t think I like the sound of that,” he admits, words tinged with amusement, and they laugh. “I think we should just stick to chef.”

“Yes, chef!” They salute unnecessarily, and he chuckles.

He takes out the butter—their nice butter, not the spread stuff. Heats it over their pan, scrapes the minced garlic into the hot butter, creating a delicious sizzle.

“You, uh, go out to a bar?” He asks, because he’s curious. It’s easier talking to them with his back turned to them, forced to face the pan.

“Yeah, just went with a couple of friends. I wasn’t scheduled for tomorrow, so I thought a little fun would be nice. But I must say, bars are not exciting on Wednesday nights.”

“Seems like you got to have a good time anyway.”

“Mhm, yeah. They had cheap drinks. I got so many.” They laugh. “They honestly didn’t taste that good.”

“And you kept getting them?”

“It’s just ‘cause they were strong. Sometimes you just wanna get fucked up, y’know? Oh my god, it smells so fuckin’ good right now. What the hell are you doing?”

“It’s just butter and garlic,” he answers honestly.

“This is the best thing ever. You are literally so nice.” The sincerity in their words is so palpable that Carmy feels his stomach twist. “Anyone would be so lucky to be with you.”

Fuck, Carmy thinks distantly. He adamantly refuses to acknowledge how this comment makes him feel.

“I dunno about that,” he replies, a safe neutral even though he can’t help the embarrassment.

“Really?” They blow a raspberry at him. “Well, I like having you as my roommate. That’s something, right?”

Carmy’s glad he’s not facing them. He’s not sure what his expression looks like right now.

“Well. Lucky for me, I guess.” He pauses, listening to the sizzle of the garlic. for a moment. “You’re a good roommate, too. I…didn’t know if I would like having one at all.”

“Oh yeah? You never had one before?”

“Not since culinary school, and they weren’t good.” He sighs at the memory. “But this…I like this.”

“I like it too,” they agree, almost a bit dreamily. “It’s nice not having to be by yourself all the time.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “It is.”

He turns around then, garlic bread plated and in his hand, and they gasp, hands over their mouth.

“Carmy,” they whisper. “Oh my god. Oh my god.”

“You’re definitely drunk,” he says, smiling in endearment.

“Um, yeah. And you just made me garlic bread. To a drunk person, garlic bread is the next coming of Christ.” They slide the plate towards them, staring at it with big eyes. “And you put cheese on it!”

“Should I not have?”

“Of course you should have!” They exclaim. “You could’ve put some shit on this I’ve never heard of and I would still eat it. You’re a wizard in the kitchen.”

“Well.” He laughs. Shakes his head. “I’m flattered?”

“You should be,” they whisper. They take a huge bite of it, resounding with a satisfying crunch. “Fuck.” They shake their head from side to side as they eat. “This is so fuckin’ yummy.”

“Good, good.” He nods, pleased. He props his elbows up on the counter, gauging their reaction.

“You are so talented,” they gush, continuing to eat urgently. “And so nice.”

Carmy knows he can’t hide the way his ears go pink.

“Well.” He gives them a shrug he knows looks as half-hearted as it feels. “I do nice things for nice people,” he says finally, mostly because he can't just take the damned compliment.

“I'm nice people?” They repeat, so genuinely earnest that Carmy almost laughs. “That's a relief. I’m, like, so glad you think that, because I can be an annoying piece of shit sometimes.”

“Annoying?” The self deprecation surprises him. They don’t usually talk like this. “I don’t—I don’t think you’re annoying. Have I ever, uh, seemed like I—?”

“Nonono, it has nothing to do with you,” they interrupt with a hiccup, waving their hands. “I just, like, have issues.” They laugh, although Carmy’s positive there’s nothing funny about this. “And I really like you as a, as a roommate,” they stutter clumsily. “So I don’t wanna fuck it up.”

“I, I don’t think you would fuck it up.” There’s something a little unsettling about all this, something that’s putting Carmy on edge.

“I always find a way! I just do, because, I’m—I’m not good at being a person,” they blurt out, and then there’s tears spilling all over their cheeks, streaked with black mascara.

Shit, Carmy thinks.

“Hey,” Carmy says softly, gentle and careful. He looks up at them, concerned eyes searching their watery ones. He wishes he had the words, but they're talking again.

“I just can’t do anything right,” they sob, bottom lip wobbling. He’s also not sure if he’s ever seen them crying so hard. Their face is scrunched in pain, skin drenched in tears. “I, I, I can't even fucking make garlic bread!”

“You're drunk,” he reminds them, carefully. “Very drunk.”

“I'm drunk, too,” they wail, and Carmy wonders if he said the wrong thing. “I'm a drunk fuck-up! I, I'm too damaged…”

“Damaged?” He echoes. Their own brutality towards themself takes his words away, and all he can do is repeat their cruelty in disbelief.

“My whole life, I've just,” they whisper, and something about it nestles into his chest and stays there. The feeling of it is familiar. “My—my whole life, I—oh, god—”

They stop with a sharp inhale, slapping their hand on their mouth. It’s a movement that Carmy would recognize just about anywhere.

“Shit,” he curses, and he rushes them to the bathroom.

They’re still crying as they throw up into the toilet, apologizing profusely. Carmy tries not to look, just focusing on holding up their hair.

“I’m sorry,” they apologize again before shoving their face back into the toilet.

“It’s okay. It happens.” He absentmindedly notices that he’s never touched their hair before. It’s soft—must be well taken care of. “You’re doing great right now, okay?”

“Thank you,” they sob, tilting their head to the side to rest their cheek on the toilet seat. He lets their hair fall behind them, instead just keeping one hand on their back. “I’m really s-sorry,” they say again, eyes watery and red.

“It’s okay,” he repeats, because it's all he can say. They seem grateful enough.

I haven’t thrown up like this since college,” they tell him miserably. “I don’t like it.”

“Nobody likes throwing up,” he reasons, and they make a weak noise of agreement.

“Last time, I threw up in my roommate’s bathroom—” they pause, as if fighting a wave of nausea, but it seems to pass. “And I barely missed the toilet,” they whisper, like it’s some sort of dark secret.

“Damn.” Carmy’s not sure if he should be smiling, but he is, just a little bit. “Sounds like you were shitfaced.”

“So shitfaced,” they echo. At least they’re smiling back at him. That’s a good sign. “It was such a mess. I felt so bad.”

“Were they mad?”

“No, they weren’t. They even cleaned it up for me.” They groan. “I felt soooo bad, Carmy. So bad. I was worried they would forever hate me for that.”

“Well, if they weren’t mad at you, I’m sure they wouldn’t hate you for it.”

“I just really didn’t want them to hate me,” they say, and they’re looking so intently into Carmy eyes that it feels like he’s bearing his soul to them. “Are you gonna hate me?”

“I'm not gonna hate you because you're throwing up.” Their hair’s falling into their face, and he moves to tuck it behind their ear before he can think about it. Their cheeks are hot to the touch. “Would I be doing this for someone I hate?”

“Good point,” they mumble. Carmy’s hand lingers behind their ear before moving back to the middle of their back, rubbing little circles. The touch is guiltily electric on his end. “Sometimes I just…think people are waiting for a chance to hate me.”

“I think it’s a bit too late for me to find an excuse to dislike you,” Carmy says. “But…I get it.”

“...You do?”

“Yeah,” he says, even though he’s not sure what else to say. They’re still looking at him, clearly waiting for him to elaborate. “I’m not used to anyone caring much about me.”

“I care about you,” they whisper. “I care about you a lot.”

Silence settles between them as any words Carmy had disappear on the tip of his tongue. They just keep looking at him, their eyes gentle and searching, and he can’t tear his gaze away. He can’t tear his hand off their back, either.

“You shouldn't,” he whispers, strangely honest. “I'm not worth it.”

“Too bad.” He can't look away from their gaze, their eyes that are infinitely knowledgeable. “If I can't care about you, you have to stop being nice to me.”

Carmy opens his mouth to protest, but he can't. They seem to know it, too, with the way a knowing smile creeps up their face.

“I don't wanna do that,” he replies finally.

“Thought so.” Their face glows brilliantly with a smile, and it should be infuriating, but it's not. “So deal with it. Me caring about you.”

He laughs at that, because it's so stupid.

“Stupid,” he laughs, and they laugh back, their giggles echoing into the ring of the toilet. “Y'know, I fucked up today at work.”

“Oh yeah? What happened?”

“I was cutting onions. I've done it a million times, but for some reason, I fucked it all up. Onions got all over the floor, and I had to redo it all. Well, my sous had to redo ‘em.”

He's not sure why he's mentioning this to them, or why he's even mentioning it for a second time, but he is.

“I haven't fucked up like that in forever,” he continues, reliving the memory in the back of his brain. The knife hitting the floor, metal against linoleum. “It was stupid. I hadn't done something so fucking, stupid like that in—god knows how long.”

That can't be the point, he thinks to himself. He can't just bring up him messing up onions just to complain about messing up onions. That's not worth anything, to him or to them. They're drunk, anyhow. Why is he bringing up his issues like this, right now?

“You're allowed to mess up on onions,” they say with surprisingly clarity. Their words carry a measured gentleness that doesn't seem possible from a drunk. “It would be crazy if you never messed up, y'know. Like, ever.”

“But it's been years,” he protests. There's a pressure building. “Years since I messed up like that. And someone had to clean up after my shit. They shouldn't have had to do that.”

“Hm…” They make a thoughtful noise. “It's not like you did it on purpose, right?”

“Of course not.”

“That's what friends are for,” they murmur. “And coworkers. Sometimes. It's ok that you messed up.”

“...” A part of Carmy wants to continue protesting, but it feels futile. “I shouldn't have brought it up, you're still drunk anyway,” he says, mostly to himself, but also because he can't stand to acknowledge it anymore.

“I don't care,” they whisper. “I like it when people talk to me about things.” Carmy feels something twist in his stomach, palpable and physical.

“I’m probably being annoying,” he mutters, and as soon as the words come out of his mouth, he wants to bash his head in for saying something so childish.

“No. You’re not.” They respond before he has a chance to take it back. “I want to know you, Carmy.”

“You already know me.”

“Not as much as I would like,” they mutter, eyes fluttering shut, and Carmy has no choice but to swallow the heavy truth.

“You shouldn't fall asleep here. If you're feeling better, we need to get you into your bed.” He knows it's unfair, changing the subject like this. But he can't bear to look at it anymore than he already has.

Luckily for him, they relent without any protest. They lean up against him as he helps them to their room. It's a bit difficult to wade through the piles of clothes on the floor, but Carmy's no better.

“I really didn't mean to get this fucked up,” they mumble once they're laid back in bed.

“No one does.”

“Maybe not no one,” they mutter, mostly to themself. No comment. They sigh. “What time is it?”

“Uh…2:35,” he says after a beat, searching eyes landing on their bedside analog clock.

“Motherfucker. I'm sorry. Don't you have work tomorrow?”

“I do. But…it's fine.” It's very much not fine, he has to wake up in a couple hours, and yet. Here he is, at the end of it.

“You're sweet. You really are.”

“I'm…not sweet,” is all he can get out, voice quiet.

“Well, I think you're sweet to me. Taking care of me like this.” They outstretch their arms all of a sudden. “Come here? Please?”

He knows what they're asking. They've never hugged before. He’s only a hugger when it comes to family. He's seen them hug friends before, maybe, but him? Never.

He shouldn't get closer, he really shouldn't. But he ends up doing it anyway, because he tells himself he likes the way they say please.

“Can I hug you?” They ask.

“Um,” he says. He nods.

They smile again, as brilliant as ever, and bring him into a tight hug. They smell like the mint mouthwash they insisted Carmy retrieve for them, along with their perfume.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” they say. He’s never heard their voice in his ear like this before. They wrap their arms around his neck then, and Carmy’s heart feels like it’s in his throat.

“No problem,” he gets out, feeling a bit breathless.

Before he can even form the next thought, they’re pressing a sleepy kiss on their cheek before flipping back down on their bed.

Carmy feels like throwing up, but…not in a bad way.

“Good night,” they mumble, so sweet. “And thank you.”

Something in his brain shuts off after that. He walks to his room like a zombie, and he falls asleep nearly instantly.

It turns out that going to bed at 2:30 am the night before work is not so fine at all.

“Sorry I’m late, couldn’t sleep,” Carmy says groggily when he comes in, and everyone’s eyes are on him. They’re staring so intently like there’s something on his face. “What?”

“It’s, uh,” Sydney starts, but Richie swiftly cuts her off.

“Must’ve been a long night, eh?” Richie says with such a shit eating grin that makes Carmy pinch his eyebrows.

“Fuck’s your deal?” Carmy bites back, gesturing at him. The length of his fuse matches the amount of sleep he got—slim to none.

“Nothing, cousin,” Richie replies, even though he’s still grinning like a mad man. “You better be telling me about it later though, got it?”

“Whatever,” Carmy mutters. It’s too early in the day to be dealing with this shit. “Just catch me up on what I missed.”

The day starts off rough, but he gets through it because he has to. Throughout the day, though, he can’t help but get the feeling that people keep looking at him when he’s not looking. Maybe it’s just his typical paranoia, but…

“These look good,” Carmy praises. “Really good,” he reiterates, turning the delicate dessert around on its circular plate. Marcus beams, clearly pleased. It’s a small matcha cake with carefully placed layers of ganache and fruit. Carmy takes a bit of it with a fork, rolling the earthy and tangy flavors around on his tongue.

“How is it?” Marcus asks, eyes firm on him.

“A little crumbly,” Carmy answers honestly. “Did you take my advice from last time?”

“I did,” he replies, frustration evident in his voice. “Think it’s the oven?”

“Maybe. Probably.” Carmy takes another bite. “Try a lower temp. Other than that, though, it’s excellent.”

“Thank you, chef,” Marcus says. “Means a lot.”

“Wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true.” He claps Marcus on the back, short and quick. “You’ve been working hard. That’s all.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I have.” He pauses then, staring at Carmy. Just like how everyone has been all damn day. “Uh, Chef?”

“What?” He feels the impatience bubbling up in him, frustrated and confused. “People have been staring at my goddamn face all day like I got some shit on it.”

“You do,” Marcus says. “It’s not shit, though. Looks like…lipstick,” he says after a beat.

“Lipstick?” A rock drops in his stomach. Carmy raises his hand to his face, searching.

“On your left,” he clarifies. “By your ear.”

He rubs aggressively there, but he pulls his fingers back without any color on it.

“Did I get it?”

“Well, I thought you did.” Marcus makes a noise, thoughtful. “Guess it’s one of those permanent ones.”

“Permanent?” Carmy repeats, a little hysterical.

“Semi permanent,” Marcus clarifies. He seems amused.

Carmy rushes into their small, shitty bathroom, getting close to the streaked mirror. He angles his head to find the stain. Sure enough, it’s right here on his cheek. It’s a dark, reddish color, in the smeared but recognizable shape of a kiss mark.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. His head feels hot. It must’ve happened last night, when they kissed him right before falling asleep.

Semi-permanent, he hears Marcus say in the back of his head. Of course it is.

With a wet paper towel, he scrubs at the mark so hard it hurts. Even so, it remains, still clear on his pale, reddened skin. He wishes his hair was long enough to hide it.

“It’s not coming off,” he says, stressed upon returning to Marcus’ station. He hopes he doesn’t sound as hysterical as he feels. Sydney’s there too, chewing on the matcha pastry Carmy had earlier. “Why the fuck isn’t it coming off?”

“You’ll probably need a makeup wipe. I think I have some in my bag if you want one,” Sydney offers. Carmy swears she has a halo around her head. “Just a warning, though, they’re old as fuck. I haven’t worn makeup in a long time.”

“It’s fine. Can I take one?” Carmy runs a stressed hand through his hair. “Can’t believe no one fuckin’ told me. I—I fucking greeted customers like this!”

“It’s cool, Carm. At least it wasn’t a hickey,” Marcus reasons, and Carmy thinks his ears go hot.

“Thank god,” he replies, sarcastic, and they have the nerve to laugh at him. “Shut up,” he tries, but there’s no real heat behind it. Sydney leaves and comes back with a semi-dried up makeup a minute later.

“Don’t get mad if it doesn’t work,” Sydney states, a cautionary disclaimer. “It might be one of those that has a specific remover.”

“Are you serious?” The sigh that comes out is full of disdain. “Fuck me.”

“Day’s already almost done, if it makes it any better,” Marcus notes with a cheeky smile, and Carmy just shakes his head.

The makeup wipe doesn’t work. Carmy tries not to get mad, but maybe he does. Maybe just a little bit.

“It’ll come off with enough washes,” Sydney reassures him. Tina’s standing with her now, too, eyeing him like a spectacle. Everyone seems to be enjoying his misery.

“Just ask your girl to get rid of it for you,” Tina says, an eyebrow raised. She raises a thumb to his cheek, rubs at the mark like a mom. “Damn. Shit’s on there.”

“They’re not—it’s not like that,” he sputters. He’s been trying to get through the day without anyone asking about it, but now that there’s some down time, there’s no stopping anyone.

“A one night stand?” Tina guesses, eyes widening. She laughs and smacks him on the arm. “Didn’t think you had it in you, boy!”

“It’s not that, either,” Carmy stresses. He knows he’s getting overly flustered about it, but he can’t help it. His eyes flicker towards the clock. They’re closing soon. “Just forget it, okay? Please.”

He can tell from their expressions that neither of them want to forget about it, but by some stroke of luck, they’re considering letting it go. Just for now. That’s enough of a victory for now, so he’ll take it.

At least, it would’ve been a victory if Richie didn’t take that very opportunity to step into the kitchen.

“Been trying to find you all day, bastard!” Richie hollers, slinging an arm over Carmy’s hunched shoulder. Carmy sighs, expressive in his annoyance. “Looks like this baby’s finally growing up, huh?”

“I’m 30, asshole,” Carmy says, tiredly, but that never works. Richie’s still talking, anyhow.

“So? Do I know the chick?” Richie’s grin makes Carmy want to punch him.

“No,” he replies, flatly. He’s so tired. “And it’s not what you think. It was just, they’re, uh…”

“Oh shit, cousin!” Richie’s laughing, obnoxiously loud in his ears. “Didn’t think you were capable of—“

“It’s not a one night stand. Already guessed that,” Tina interrupts him.

“What?” He sounds annoyed, like he has the right to be more irritated than Carmy himself. “Then what’s the secret third option? Or are you lying to my face?”

“They’re my roommate,” Carmy explains, finally.

There’s a beat of silence. And then, uproarious noise.

“You have a roommate?” Is Richie’s first question. The second: “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”

“Is, like, dating a roommate a good idea? No offense,” Sydney says, hands raised in defense. “Just wondering.”

“It’s not,” Tina answers for her, sharp eyes narrowed at him. But strangely enough, she’s smiling nonetheless.

“They’re my roommate, we’re not dating, and I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d be weird about it!” He shouts over the noise, directing the last one at Richie. “Look—they were just drunk, and I was helping them because they were fucking throwing up. Happy now?”

“And they kissed you,” Richie points out. He’s grinning like he knows some big secret.

“Fuck, okay, can we stop fucking talking about this now? It was just an accident, it’ll be gone tomorrow, and we’re never gonna mention this shit again!”

Carmy gets saved by some distant catastrophic noise in the back, somewhere around the freezer. He leaves without a word. Behind him, he hears raucous laughter mostly to Richie’s tune.

Before he leaves for the night, he stops by the bathroom one more to try and get it off. Predictably, it remains stubborn and stalwart through soap, hot water, and scrubbing. The skin under it is red with irritation, and Carmy knows that he's getting nowhere. If anything, he's making it worse.

His eyes linger on the blotted lipstick on his face. It's smudged, but he can see the cracks and the shape of their lips. His gaze follows the lines of it.

The memory burns bright in his head for a split second. It bursts in like a flashbang, intense and unavoidable. There's a phantom sensation of their lips on his cheek, the smell of their perfume, the warmth of their embrace, and it's, it's just—

Carmy shuts the lights off and heads out. He needs this lipstick mark gone by morning.

When he gets home, the apartment is dark. Unoccupied. As he flicks on the lights, he searches for them. They're usually home before him most nights. However, it seems tonight is an anomaly. He walks down the hallway past his room to theirs, and their ajar door reveals an empty bedroom.

“Fuck,” he mutters to himself. Just his luck.

He opens his phone then, a last resort. He has his messages pulled up, but his thumbs hover over the keyboard and stay there.

How the hell does he even word this?

Hey, I need lipstick remover.

No, that isn't enough information. Who knows how many types of remover there could be? What if it isn't the right one? He needs to be more specific.

Hey, I need lipstick remover for the lipstick you were wearing last night.

That sounds even stranger. Too specific, although it's the truth. That's what he needs. But he can't just…type that, can he? No, there's no way.

Is there any way he can get out of saying that there's lipstick on his face from last night and not make it weird? He wishes they were here so he could just show them. Words have never been his forte. There's little hope for him now.

Please come home right now, he briefly considers typing. It's by far the worst one out of all of them.

After pacing for a solid five minutes, he decides to send a hopefully neutral message.

Hey, you out for the night?

It's still pretty weird. Carmy is not a texter. There's not much he needs to talk about that can't wait until he sees them next. They're usually the one texting him, and it's usually only about groceries or bills. However, he tells himself it's fine because there's no note left on the counter. They always leave a note when they go out.

…They always leave a note when they go out.

This thought resets his pacing around the apartment, frantically looking for the square shape and vivid color of a sticky note. That's how they usually do it, and it's typically on the kitchen counter. So, it's honestly a futile effort to be looking around the whole place, but he does so anyway.

He looks at his phone. It's been almost 10 minutes, and still no response.

This isn't unnatural by any means. They always end up responding eventually, but the prickling anxiety is getting pricklier by the second.

They've got to be so hungover. There's no way they're out again tonight, he thinks to himself, and he's positive it has to be true.

They're missing, and you're not ever gonna get this shit off your face, his brain adds helpfully.

That's what finally kicks him into gear and forces him to press the call button.

It rings for a long time. The more it rings, the longer he stands there in the kitchen, the stupider and more anxious he feels. It's a pitiful feeling to be consumed by, but here he is, unable to resist.

However, when they finally pick up, he's not sure if he feels completely relieved. A different part of his anxiety is spiking now.

“Carmy?” Their voice carries a trace of static through the phone speaker.

“Yeah, hey. You see my text?”

“Oh, oops. Sorry, I missed it. Is everything ok?”

“Where are you?” He asks instead.

“I'm just gettin’ a drink from the corner store. Why? You want me to grab something for you?”

The absolute nonchalance in their voice humbles him, reducing him to complete embarrassment.

“Uh, no, I don't need anything. I mean, uh, I do actually need something from you, though,” he amends hastily.

“Sure, what's up? I guess it must be important if you're calling, right?”

“I, um—yeah, kinda important,” he says with attempted tranquility, completely ignoring how much he was freaking out earlier. “So…you got, uh, lipstick remover?”

“Lipstick remover?” Their surprise makes him shrivel. “Well, I have a couple types of makeup remover…”

“I think it needs to be specific?”

“You think it needs to be specific? What exactly are we dealing with here?” Their voice carries bewildered amusement.

“It's, uh…” He swallows. He can't tiptoe around it anymore. “It's…yours?”

“...Huh?”

“You got some lipstick on me last night, and it's not coming off,” he says finally, mortifyingly, and the line goes silent.

“Fucking—I'm so sorry, my memory is spotty from last night and I, I thought I imagined that, and, uh—” They awkwardly clear their throat. “I'm sorry, I really am. It's not supposed to transfer like that, but I guess it just…”

“It's okay,” he says, despite how hysterical it made him earlier. That part isn't their fault. “It's just, uh, really staying on there.”

“Shit. Of course. It's this super resilient lipstick I use for when I go out drinking, because it's not supposed to come off like, at all, so it comes with this specific remover—I'm sorry, I don’t need to be rambling like this.” They laugh nervously. “I'm on my way home now, but it should be on my desk if you wanna look at it. It's a black tube, which…isn't very specific, I guess. And my desk is really messy…”

“I'll start looking,” Carmy decides.

“I'm sorry,” they reply miserably.

“It's okay. You said you were coming home now?”

“Yes. Yes, I am. I'll see you soon, okay?”

“Cool. See you.”

The call ends. Carmy just stands there for a minute. It's like a tidal wave just rushed over him, and now the water is slowly settling to a stand still.

Black tube, he thinks. How hard can that be?

Very hard, it seems.

Their room is comfortably messy. Definitely not as messy as his. There's some clothes on the floor, jackets on chairs, underwear he turns his gaze away from (don't imagine them in that lace one lying in the corner or the flowery one or the fucking thong he didn't see anything), but that's about it. Nothing outside of typical clutter, in his opinion.

The desk, though. The desk.

He doesn't think he can even see the surface of it. There's just lots of little things scattered across it, from piles of jewelry to stacks of papers and books. It's like an ispy book.

He stares at it, trying to find a black tube. He quickly realizes how much of a futile effort it's going to be.

In this moment, he thinks about how he's never spent much time in their room. The two of them usually hang out in the living room. Besides, he's not one to go snooping around in someone's personal space. Until being pushed to his limits and being given explicit permission, that is.

He leans in, peering closer at the scattered items. There's a little bit of everything. Receipts, make-up brushes, scissors, paper scraps, empty water cups, hair ties, empty candy wrappers, lipsticks…none of which are black tubes.

Maybe it's not on their desk. Maybe it's on a different shelf.

They said it was on their desk, a voice in his head says, but he’s not listening.

The next closest thing is their nightstand. It's a little messy, but nowhere near as bad as their desk. There's a melatonin bottle, some lip balm, a bedside lamp. He squints, seeing what might be more pills or maybe skincare until a dark tube catches his eye.

When he picks it up, he realizes it's not black, instead being a dark blue. Also, it's not a tube, it's more of a bottle.

The text on it also reads as lube, not lipstick remover.

…Lube?

It's lube, his brain repeats, helpful as ever.

I can see that, he thinks back.

“Hello? Carmy?”

A familiar voice has him scrambling to put the lube back. He moves it back to the night stand more quickly than he could have ever expected of himself.

“Hey, I'm in your room,” he calls back, hoping that his fabricated nonchalance comes off as believable. He steps out of their room into the hallway, and they appear at the end of it.

The first he notices is how much better they look when he saw them last. To be fair, the last time he saw them, they were sobbing and throwing up into the toilet, drunk out of their mind, but still. It's still an improvement. Their cheeks are flushed from the cold, and their hair is mussed from being outside.

“Hey. Did you find it?”

“I couldn't find it,” he admits. He steps out of the way to let them through, and then he follows them back into their room.

“Yeah, sorry, my desk is a fucking nightmare,” they mutter darkly, making a beeline for their desk. “I swear I took it out and put it right here…Ah, yes!”

Miraculously, they pull it out. It looks like a lipstick in itself, and when they uncap it, it just looks like a white lip balm.

“So, do I just…rub it on?”

“Well—yeah, you should, but it emulsifies with water, so you just use water and then use a cotton pad…” Carmy supposes the confusion isn't too well masked on his face. “Can I see where it is?” They ask tentatively.

Wordlessly, Carmy turns his head. He supposes they're just glad they didn't see it immediately.

“Oh.” When he turns to face them again, their cheeks are dark with color. It's not a look he's used to seeing on them. “I'm sorry,” they say again with a downturned head.

“It's okay,” Carmy says again, and he means it. He brings a hand to his cheek subconsciously. “I just…”

“Let me take it off,” they insist, guilt knitted in their expression, and that's how Carmy ends up seated on the toilet seat.

“Now I'm the one getting patched up on the toilet,” he says quietly. He wonders if it was the wrong thing to say, but it makes them laugh.

“So, um, when did you notice?” They ask. The tube uncaps with a small pop.

“A couple hours ago,” he admits. The balm feels smooth and oily against his cheek. “I had no idea, but my coworkers, uh…”

“Oh my god,” they mutter under their breath. “I just don't think I'm ever gonna stop apologizing for this.”

“It's fine, really,” he insists, even though he was manically scrubbing at his skin earlier. “It was sorta funny,” he adds, even though he was freaking out while everyone else was laughing. They don't need to know.

“That's good, at least.”

“Yeah. It was—uh…”

He feels their thumb rubbing circles into his cheek, and the words disintegrate like sand in the wind.

“Sorry, this is just one of those things that takes a little bit of work to get off.” Their tone projects a casual indifference to it, but their voice is so quiet that it feels unfairly intimate.

“I didn't know lipstick could be this…intense,” Carmy hears himself say. He's far away, still trapped in the feeling of their hand on his face.

“It's what you need for an intense night out,” they reply with a small smile. He looks up at them then, meeting their dark eyes, but they're concentrated on the spot on his cheek. When they catch him looking, though, they don't look away.

“Are you feeling better?” He asks quietly. He can’t stop looking.

“A lot better. Yesterday was rough, but I'm feeling okay now.”

“Good.”

“Yeah. Um…” They lean back, breaking eye contact, and Carmy feels a pressure releasing. They grab a wet paper towel and carefully drag it across his cheek. “Thanks again, by the way. For putting up with me last night. I mean, it was more than just putting up, but…y'know.”

“Sure,” he says, much softer than intended. “It happens.”

“I think you're just nice,” they tease, fully intended to be light-hearted, but because Carmy's the way that he is, it weighs heavily in his chest.

“Sometimes,” he mumbles, because that's all he can bear to say.

Because last night, they looked him in the eyes and whispered that they wanted to know him. That they thought he was sweet, he was kind. They spoke with such earnestness that for a split second, Carmy considered believing them about everything, even though that’s always the wrong thing to do.

Because once he believes them a little bit, he’ll start acting like he’s a good person. He’ll fool everyone around him, even himself.

Then, the inevitability that is his self-destruction will arrive like it’s always promised. He will mess everything up like he always does, sharp-edged flaws unfurling from the inside out. They’ll slice everyone he was able to fool into getting close enough.

The least he can do is try and give some kindness back before it happens.

“Just take the compliment,” they say with a small grin. “Y'know, I don't remember everything from last night. There's bits and pieces I know that're missing. But from what I do remember…” They make one final wipe at his cheek. “You have to let me be nice to you.”

He remembers, too.

So deal with it, they had said. Me caring about you.

“How could I forget,” he tries to joke, but his laugh comes out sounding far too breathless. Luckily for him, their laugh, much more tangible and believable, joins his own.

“I said some crazy shit last night, I know.” They take a seat next to him on the edge of the bathtub. “But I meant it. I like being your friend, Carmy. I hope I didn’t say too much.”

“You didn't say too much. You were just drunk.” He feels a bit stunned.

“Okay,” they accept after a beat. “I mean, you're right. I was just drunk. Um…” They gesture towards his face. “I got the mark off, by the way.”

Carmy stands up and checks his face in the mirror. Sure enough, it's gone. He feels relief wash over him like a breeze, and another feeling he can't place. It's…It's…

“Thanks,” he says, and they nod.

“It's the least I could do.” They stand up, too, and walk out of the bathroom. They stand in the doorway for a moment before looking at him. “I'm gonna smoke. You wanna join?”

It's…

“Yeah, for sure. I'll be just a sec.”

Then it's just him in the bathroom, the door shut as he stares at his reflection. The harsh fluorescent bathroom light casts harshly down the planes of his face, creating dark shapes on his face. He stares at the spot where the lipstick mark used to be. The longer he stares, the more the unnamed feeling stretches outwards.

When it drops in his stomach, that’s when he realizes.

The feeling is disappointment.

@zorrasucia

#carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear #carmen berzatto #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #WHEEEEE CHAPTER 2 LETS GO!!!!!! thanks everyone for the kind words on ch 1.... it made me very happy..... i love carmy so much. so very muc #this chapter is all over the place but that's just whats up #my stuff #my writing #also hello zs i hope that's what u meant by tagging u LOL i'm a newbie to this #my fics #carmy #reader #alexithymia fic

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iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin · 3 months

Text

bully⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

wednesday, seok matthew— phys. ed

⋆˙⟡ zbully1 smut series masterlist! hanbin, jiwoong, hao, matthew, and taerae included. game day (group) chapter here. all 7 endings here.

⋆˙⟡ wc: 2.7k

⋆˙⟡ reader: femme afab (listed first, she/her are used a couple times) // gender neutral (alternate version listed second, no pronouns used at all to describe reader— scroll down)

⋆˙⟡ series summary: five bullies. six days. it's gonna be a hell of a week, babe. stay hydrated.

⋆˙⟡ wednesday summary: it's hump day... *ahem*. unfortunately you're being forced to play contact sports under the leadership of team captain matthew seok. no matter how many times he's made a fool of you in front of your whole gym class, it never gets old for him. oh shit. uh, (y/n)? you might wanna duck...

⋆˙⟡ warnings: explicit smut. 18+. minors do not interact. please read specific smut warnings under the cut! swearing. angst. slight dub-con. small injury/blood warning, no graphic descriptions. bullying. red-pilled, muscle pig soccer player matthew. please rest up for thursday. smut in gn and fem versions are slightly different due to logistics/circumstance. also i KNOW it's called football. chill. we can't all be from a cool country.

⋆˙⟡ bully scale: ★★★★☆(4.0)

EXPLICIT SMUT 18+ WARNINGS: spanking (reader receiving), petting (reader receiving), pussyjob (google it if unfamiliar), slight dub-con but reader's honestly really fast to come around to this one lol, girthy!matthew, bullying/misogynistic.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

you stand in a straight line with your other classmates, facing the soccer field and your physical education teacher. eyes glued to your sneakers, you’re completely lost in thought. could anyone blame you after the past couple of days you’d had?

unable to give hao an answer to his question yesterday, he’d simply laughed at you and left you in the orchestra storage closet to redress yourself in shame. you’d thought monday was bad, but tuesday was certainly your lowest point since starting university.

you’d made a vow that evening that something like this would never happen again...

right after you’d gotten off to the memory of it one last time.

your gym teacher, coach yang, blows his whistle to direct the class’s attention towards him. while you’re able to keep your eyes trained on him, your brain is another thing. to be fair, it’s not like you paid much attention during your wednesday afternoon gym class even without such a heavy distraction weighing on you.

signing up for a physical education class had been the last thing you’d planned on doing while at university, but after a small hiccup with class registration left you shut out of all of your best alternatives, you’d had to settle on the last course available: physical education studies— team sports.

though you didn’t mind exercising and even found it fairly enjoyable when on your own and blasting your favorite music, you’d thought you’d be finished with the stress and chaos of team sports when you finished your high school requirements. you understood each sport enough, but could never seem to put that understanding into practical use.

lightly jogging back and forth and pretending to look engaged until class was over had become your signature specialty. except when an object started speeding towards your face.

no matter how many times a gym coach practiced catching a ball with you, the newly implanted knowledge would always just dissipate moments later. when the recreational game would start and a ball came flying at you...

you’d just duck.

“i’ll take ducky,” a voice suddenly calls. your eyes dart to find the source of the dreaded nickname, unsurprised at the culprit they land on. but why had he just called you?

you blink at him, brow furrowed in confusion. “wh-... what?”

“were you paying attention, (y/n)-sshi?” coach yang asks, shaking his head and looking back at his clipboard. “can you explain it again, matthew-sshi?”

“oh, i’d be happy to,” matthew replies with a smirk. “we’re picking teams for soccer drills. wonhee and i are team captains.”

this unfortunately doesn’t answer any of your questions. if matthew was picking teammates of his own free will, why would he call your name?

“and you... want me?” you stumble, shaking your head when you realize how your question sounds. “on—... on your te—?”

“yeah, ducky,” matthew affirms, brow raised in a challenge as he smiles at you. “i do.”

you feel your palms begin to sweat as matthew’s fox eyes stare you down. this had to be connected to jiwoong and hao. you just weren’t sure how yet.

“(y/n)-sshi,” coach yang barks, pointing to the grass next to matthew. “let’s get moving.”

taking a deep breath, you walk over with your head down and stand behind your new team captain. he turns over his shoulder and winks at you.

oh help.

--------

after about an hour or so of various training drills, you’re surprised to find yourself still in one piece. but so far, matthew had treated you like he was treating everyone else on your team: which is to say, not great but... tolerable.

you’d almost let yourself settle into the feeling of just being one of matthew’s undervalued teammates when a harsh blow of a whistle jolts you from your peace.

“listen up,” coach yang calls from the bleachers. “we’ll be moving on to shooting drills now.”

matthew’s eyes find yours, brow piquing as he smirks. “will we need a goalie, coach?”

fuuuuuck no.

“yep, every team should choose a goalie,” coach yang confirms, leaning back even further on the bleacher behind him.

matthew walks toward you, smile growing wider with every step. you shake your head, eyes pleading with him to let you live. because that’s what putting you inside a goal was: attempted murder.

“please, matt,” you whisper, breathing getting shakier as he closes the distance. “please, don’t do this.”

he puts a hand on your shoulder and shakes you happily, announcing to the team, “lucky for us, we’ve got a volunteer right here! thanks for helping out the team, ducky.”

matthew slaps your back, encouraging you to take your place in the goal.

“uh, hyung? should (y/n) really—?” a boy from your calculus class tries to save you, but it’s no use.

“yeah,” matthew interrupts, nostrils flared. “ducky really should. in five seconds or less.”

you dart off down the field toward the goal— which reaching in five seconds would be impossible, mind you— scrambling to make it in time before matthew makes an even bigger fool out of you.

when you finally reach the goal, you turn around and ready yourself for the drill to start. only, unbeknownst to you, the drill has already started.

and a soccer ball is hurtling through the air towards your head at 70 mph.

you duck.

it’s who you are.

the ball flies so fast past you, hitting the back of the net and bouncing to the ground. you sigh in relief after narrowly avoiding a collision. you’re so nervous, you suddenly feel a bit of sweat forming at your temples. you reach up and wipe it with your forearm, bringing it back down to see that the liquid from your forehead is not clear...

it’s red.

“(y/n)-sshi!” coach yang yells, laboredly getting up from his reclined position on the bleachers. “oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

he (lightly) jogs over to where you’re sat in the goal, bending down to examine the injury. holding up a finger, he has you follow it back and forth and up and down until he shrugs.

“pretty sure the ball just grazed your skin,” coach yang deduces, holding out a hand for you and helping you to your feet. “who kicked that ball?”

all eyes dart to matthew. he nudges the grass with his sneaker shamefully. “i’m sorry, coach. she looked ready.”

“which part of her looked ready to you? the back of her head?” coach yang asks, rolling his eyes. maybe he sees more from his perch than he lets on. “take (y/n) to my office and get her fixed up.”

“but—,” you start to protest; the last thing you want is to be alone with matthew after all this.

“now,” coach yang asserts, throwing matthew his key ring. you start to walk back towards the gymnasium, wiping your forehead as it begins to feel damp again.

“yes, coach,” matthew agrees before falling into step beside you. he doesn’t speak, just fidgets with the key ring in his hand until you step through the door to the gym and find coach yang’s office.

he unlocks the door, holding it open for you. you step inside, looking around at all of the different sports equipment and trophies littering your teacher’s office. you jump as the door slams shut behind you and he notices your unintentional display of fear.

“jesus. am i gonna have to change your nickname to jumpy?” matthew snorts at his own joke before walking over to the cabinet beside coach yang’s desk. when he realizes you haven’t followed him, he turns around. “seriously, what’s your problem?”

“what’s—... what’s my problem?” you repeat, blinking back at him unbelievingly. “you kicked a ball at my head on purpose!”

“aw c’mon, ducky,” he says with a cute smile, taking a step towards you. “not like it’s the first time. maybe something else is on your mind?”

your body stiffens, at the taunting look in his eyes. “if you so much as put a hand on me, i’ll—.”

“me? touch you?” matthew interjects incredulously, tongue in his cheek as he grins. “the star of the soccer team has bigger dreams than putting his hands on you.”

the tiniest bit of confidence flickers in you as you think of the perfect reply. “th-thought hanbin was the star of the soccer team...”

“hanbin hyung is NOT—...” matthew starts to rage before seeing your expression. he exhales annoyedly and pats coach yang’s desk, “just shut up and sit down.”

“on—... on the desk?” you ask with frown. “there’s a chair right here.”

“easier to see with you closer to the light,” he answers dismissively, patting the desk again.

you oblige warily, hopping up onto the open space on coach yang’s desk— feet dangling slightly off the ground. the position feels a little too vulnerable and you eagerly await for this all to be over.

“that’s what i hate about you intellectual types,” matthew says, bending down to open the filing cabinet drawer to the right of coach yang’s desk. he pulls out a small first aid kit, lifting the white box onto the desk beside you. “who the hell doesn’t know how to catch a ball? you think you’re so fucking smart, but you have no clue when it comes to the real world.”

as matthew opens the first aid kit and pulls out an alcohol wipe, he tears the packaging open with his teeth— his biceps flexing as he throws the wrapper into the waste bin by your coach’s desk.

“then again, i’ve heard a rumor or two that you might know more than you let on,” he says with a soft smirk, gently dabbing the wipe to your bleeding temple. you flinch slightly at the sting. “i just find it hard to believe, ya know? honestly i’m kind of surprised that you have sexual impulses at all.”

matthew laughs to himself as he pulls out an anti-infection topical, twisting the cap off with his fingers. he lifts a q-tip from the kit and covers one side in the topical serum.

“was convinced that was the case after i tried to bag you last year,” he says, dragging the q-tip across your now-clean cut. “only to find out this week that you apparently do wanna spread your legs. just not for me.”

“you... you what!?” you shout, matthew putting the index finger of his free hand to your lips to keep you quiet. you glare at him until he finally removes it. “didn’t you just say you had more important people to—?”

“and i do. but ducky, think about the story of it all. the nerdy little prude letting the jock make a mess of her for the first time behind the bleachers. scared. helpless... euphoric,” matthew muses far too casually, tossing the q-tip in the trash and pulling out a bandage from the kit. he opens the wrapper, scrunching the paper up and laying it down on the desk next to you. “now that i know you’re... tainted... i’m just not as eager.”

“tainted?” you repeat angrily, shifting a bit on the desk. this is exactly the kind of shit you’d expect from matthew. “you really are nothing but a protein-addicted, misogynistic pig.”

he nods slowly, humming as he places the small, clear bandage on your cut— veiny hands delicately smoothing out the edges. “but you like that, don’t you, ducky?”

“no,” you deny quickly with a frown, head tilting slightly in confusion as matthew’s fingers linger at your temple. “i d-don’t...”

“mm, nice try. but this cute little wet spot right here says otherwise,” he retorts, placing a hand on each of your knees and pulling your legs apart with ease so he can get a better look at your clothed center. “i think you more than like it, actually.”

matthew starts to slide his hands up your thighs, thumbs grazing the insides as your cheeks flush. not again.

“two days in a row and you still want more?” he whispers, squeezing each of your thighs in his palms. “what? hyungs couldn’t satisfy you?”

you find yourself shaking your head involuntarily, matthew’s eyes lighting up with this news.

“can i quote you on that?” he asks with a grin, fingers on his right hand now brushing against your still-covered heat. “jiwoong hyung said you like this.”

he applies a little more pressure and, though you try to steady your breathing, a little whimper escapes as he finds your clit.

“and hao hyung said you like surprises,” matthew says, looking up at you with lidded eyes— the tiny mole above his cheek visible in the fluorescent school light. if you didn’t know any better, you would swear he was about to kiss you. but instead, he takes a step back and folds his arms across his chest. “you’re all fixed. get up.”

luckily, you stop the pout from reaching your lips, sighing as you hop off of coach yang’s desk and onto the tile floor.

“oh, can you grab the bandaid wrapper?” he asks, putting the first aid kit back in the cabinet drawer. you turn around, looking for the paper wrapper and spotting it on the desk.

you bend over slightly to reach it, yelping in pain when a harsh smack suddenly comes down across your ass. you fall slightly onto the top of the desk, chest flush against the wood and short-shorts riding up your thighs.

“were you surprised enough?” matthew teases, hands pushing at the seam of your shorts to expose more of you to him. “cause i’d really like you to let me fuck you now.”

“i’m—... i s-said i wasn’t gonna let something like this happen again,” you reply, shaking your head. couldn’t you just use your brain for once this week?

“aw, ducky. that’s really fucking pathetic,” he coos patronizingly, hooking his fingers around the crotch of your shorts and panties and pushing them to the side. “making me so hard.”

“matthew, i can’t—,” you whimper, resolve fading fast as another sickening smack ripples across your ass cheek. “oh my god.”

you feel something start to rub against your dripping folds; it’s warm, veiny and thick. you hear a low, throaty moan escape the boy behind you, his hands gripping into your hips on either side.

“so fucking wet for me, hm?” matthew rasps and, as you turn your head to catch a glimpse of him, he bites his lip. “bet you’ve thought about this for a long time.”

of course he’s full of himself even now. you don’t care much at this moment though. the first part of his statement is embarrassingly correct: you need him right now. arrogance and all.

you buck your hips back, wanting more friction. though he smacks your ass again in punishment, he can’t hide his hungry panting.

“fuuuck,” he breathes, grinding his length against your slit more passionately. with each rut, the tip of his cock hits your clit— rendering you a moaning mess. “easy. fucking told them it’d be easy.”

your high is steadily approaching as the abuse continues on your swollen clit, ears only filled with lust as you block out his mumbling. “matthew, please. i think... ‘m gonna—.”

“let go for me, little duck,” he coaxes, rhythm starting to falter. “yeah? then i can fuck y—.”

“matthew-sshi!?” coach yang’s voice suddenly bellows through the locked office door. “open this door right NOW!”

“no fucking way,” matthew whines loudly as you scramble off of your teacher’s desk— shifting the crotch of your shorts back into place as he slams a fist down on the filing cabinet next to you. “we weren’t finished! i thought i was gonna be the one to—.”

“one... two...” coach yang starts counting down, causing matthew to run to the door and open it immediately. such a petulant child, you think as you ignore the feeling of your arousal starting to drip down your thigh.

“are you kidding me!? this is the third person i’ve caught you doing this with in here this semester alone, matthew-sshi,” coach yang reprimands as soon as he steps inside, throwing his clipboard down on the floor and removing his baseball cap.

was matthew about to face serious consequences for this? i mean, he did purposely injure you as a ruse to have sex with him... probably.

“but you’re the team’s best centre-back. you’ve gotta support hanbin out there,” coach yang says with a sigh, matthew subtly rolling his eyes at the mention of his superior hyung. “i just can’t bench you for saturday’s game.”

“oh my god,” you whisper, eyes wide at matthew’s ability to evade punishment. it’s not just infuriating: it’s impressive.

“thank you coach,” matthew says, suddenly turning on that cute charm like the gumiho he must truly be. “i won’t let you down.”

“(y/n)-sshi,” coach yang calls, turning to look at you. “you’ll be cleaning soccer balls after every class until the end of the unit.”

“WHAT!?” you screech in shock. you’ve never received so much as a disciplinary warning in your entire academic career. “but—... but—.”

“you can clean the tennis balls next unit too, if you like,” he says, picking up his clipboard from off the ground and replacing his baseball cap onto his head. “and stop with the ducking, will you? i don’t need a lawsuit on my hands.”

you nod, your entire face burning as your coach looks anywhere but at you. you can’t say you blame him.

“c’mon, matthew-sshi. team meeting in fifteen minutes,” he instructs, walking out of his office. matthew starts to follow, but turns around in the doorway.

“meet me after practice, we can—,” he whispers, until a hand latches around the collar of his shirt and pulls him away, leaving you all on your lonesome in the small gymnasium office.

so... wednesday hadn’t gone how you’d hoped. no use crying over spilled milk (or spilled blood). thursday would be a better day.

but maybe purchasing a chastity belt wouldn’t be such a bad idea in the mean time.

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gender neutral version below

EXPLICIT SMUT 18+ WARNINGS: spanking (reader receiving), heavy petting/stroking (reader receiving), assjob/intergluteal (google it if unfamiliar, it's not anal; no anal penetration), slight dub-con but reader's honestly really fast to come around to this one lol, girthy!matthew, bullying.

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you stand in a straight line with your other classmates, facing the soccer field and your gym teacher. eyes glued to your sneakers, you’re completely lost in thought. could anyone blame you after the past couple of days you’d had?

you’d made a vow that evening that something like this would never happen again...

right after you’d gotten off to the memory of it one last time.

lightly jogging back and forth and pretending to look engaged until class was over had become your signature specialty. except when an object started speeding towards your face.

you’d just duck.

“i’ll take ducky,” a voice suddenly calls. your eyes dart to find the source of the dreaded nickname, unsurprised at the culprit they land on. but why had he just called you?

you blink at the muscular boy, brow furrowed in confusion. “wh-... what?”