#but its a struggle bus fic for sure | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ohbo-ohno · 7 months

Text

Kinktober Day 12 - Somnophilia

Soap x Reader - 5.5k (on ao3)

summary: Your doctor offers to help you get home after your lasik eye surgery. (Reader POV & Johnny POV)

cw: noncon sex, drugging, kidnapping, briefly mentioned lasik eye surgery (no description past one mention of a scalpel)

note: tysm to ceil for giving me this idea <3 i did a few google searches on lasik eye surgery and tried to mention the actual feelings as little as possible, and also the drug johnny uses is probably literally impossible but its fic so who cares lol

“And… how long did you say I have to wear these?” You ask, tentatively touching the glasses resting over your eyes.

“Och, not long at all. Just until tonight, then you come in for a check-up tomorrow afternoon and I’ll let you know what other care you’ll need.” Dr. MacTavish replies, big hands adjusting the frames and pushing them up your nose.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but are they usually painted like this?” You’d hardly been able to see post lasik-surgery - mostly just big swaths of color - but you feel far more vulnerable with the sunglasses on, their blacked out lenses leaving you entirely in the dark except for the blurry light around the rims.

Your doctor’s laugh is low and comforting, his hand patting you on the shoulder before you hear him moving away. “Of course. Not all optometrists use them, but I’ve found for patients like you they have the best results.”

“Like me?”

“Yes,” another chuckle, and the sounds of what you assume are tools being put away. “Patients who struggle to be good and sit still during their surgery.”

“Ah.” You feel your cheeks go hot in embarrassment. “I really am sorry about that…”

“No need,” he reassures, his hand coming to rest on the back of your neck. You can’t help but jerk a little, the glasses slipping down your nose. “Oops, don’t be losin’ those, bonnie.”

Your cheeks go hot and you have to fight the urge not to reach up and fix them yourself since his hand gets their first. He rights them quickly, then taps the tip of your nose with a finger. “There you go. Let’s keep those where they should be, hm?” He gives the nape of your neck a squeeze, his palm warm and rough, and you do your best to nod without awkwardly dislodging him.

“Now, do you have a ride home?”

You suck your teeth a little at that. You hadn’t known you’d be wearing the dark glasses after - the care plan you and Dr. MacTavish had discussed beforehand had made it seem like you’d be able to ride the bus home, but you’re not comfortable doing that in your blinded state.

“Ah, not right now,” you start, tangling your fingers together in your lap to avoid rubbing at your itchy eyes. “But I can probably call a friend-”

“Nonsense,” Dr. MacTavish dismisses, moving away from you and back to whatever he’d been moving before. “You’re my last patient of the day, how about I give you a ride home?”

“Oh,” you start, startled at his offer. “Oh, that’s… no, that’s alright, Doctor. I’m sure one of my friends could-”

He interrupts you with a tsk, and suddenly there’s a hand at your elbows guiding you up, then just one as he walks you out of the office. “No, that won’t do. We need to get you home and in bed as soon as possible - it’s not good for you to be keeping your eyes open so much after surgery, you know.”

“Oh, really?” You gasp a little, letting him guide you. “Should I be keeping them closed? I don’t want to make anything worse…”

“You’re doing just fine, bonnie, no worries.” The hand on your elbow squeezes as you come to a stop, and you hear the sound of something being written on. “I’ll take good care of you now. C’mon.” What must be a pen is dropped onto what you can only assume is the front counter, and you’re guided forward again. “We’ll have you safe at home in no time.”

Dr. MacTavish’s car is nice - the seats aren’t cracking at all, the air conditioning works to cool the interior quickly, there’s a faint minty smell - but it disconcerts you more than you might’ve expected to be left completely blind in an unfamiliar environment, and with someone you don’t know past a professional relationship.

You give him your address after he buckles you in (you swear his hand brushes your chest, but it doesn’t linger and you don’t want to accuse him of something unfounded just because of a slight touch) and he doesn’t bother to input it into the GPS, tells you he already knows where the neighborhood is.

You haven’t felt so vulnerable in a long time. Even around the edge of the glasses, all you can see are blurs of color, and you feel oddly exposed without the ability to see. Your eyes itch and sting, and it takes conscious effort not to rub the feeling away.

You lift a hand to rub them without even thinking but before it’s even halfway to your face Dr. MacTavish grabs it, pinning it to your thigh and making a low noise of dissent. “No rubbing now, lass, you know the rules.”

The heat creeping up your neck is entirely involuntary, and you tuck your free hand beneath your leg to resist the urge to squirm. “Right, of course, I’m sorry Dr. MacTavish.”

“Johnny, lass, no need for titles off the clock.”

You try to make a vague noise of understanding but end up sounding a bit like a bird, your hand clammy beneath his. He gives you a squeeze, but doesn’t let go. You’d ask him to move but… well, you don’t want to make things awkward when he’s your only way home at the moment and you figure he’s just helping. So you try to relax your fingers, and zone out to the sound of him humming along to the radio.

“Here we are,” he announces eventually, the car slowing to a stop before he turns into your driveway. “Nice neighborhood, hen. Very safe.”

You try to laugh casually and cringe when it just comes off as awkward - you’re unsure how to naviagte small-talk when all you really want to do is curl up in bed and sleep. “I just moved here recently, but it seems to be a pleasant area. I certainly don’t have any complaints.”

Dr. MacTavish - Johnny - hums in response, turning the car off and getting out to come to your side. He unbuckles you quickly and again there’s a little voice in the back of your head that says his hand lingered by your waist for just a few beats too long. But his fingers don’t venture anywhere appropriate, and you tell yourself that you’re seeing something that isn’t really there.

He keeps a hold of your elbow as he guides you up the stairs and into your building. He pauses and then a moment later you hear a ding, and the clear familiar sound of an elevator opening.

“Oh,” you say, shocked as he tugs you forward. “I had no idea the elevator was fixed - it’s been out of order since I moved in.”

“Really?” You hear press a button.

You stand there in silence for a moment, eyebrows furrowed, before you feel the elevator start to move.

“Um, Dr Ma- Johnny, what floor did you pick?”

There’s a pause before he answers, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“Och, silly me,” Johnny laughs, the sound echoing in the metal walls. “Force of habit, bonnie, I picked my floor in my building. What’s yours?”

You try to laugh it off, but the way his fingers tighten almost imperceptiably against the crook of your elbow has you sounding a bit too stiff. “Four, please.”

“Four,” he hums, and you hear him press another button.

The ride up is a bit awkward, at least from your perspective. Johnny makes no attempt at conversation past the occasional hum along to the music, and you’re a little too on edge to worry about small-talk right now.

Calm down, you insist to yourself. He’s just being polite. Making sure you get home safe. You’ve got to stop seeing the worst in people.

You take a deep breath and force yourself to relax.

There’s a slightly uncomfortable silence when the door opens for the first time, both you and Johnny just waiting for it to close and take you to the proper floor.

The doors are much quicker to open the third time, and you figure Johnny must live on the third or fifth floor in his own building for you to have gotten to your floor so quickly.

“What’s your apartment number, lass?”

You tell him, and his hold loosens slightly against your arm. There’s a part of you - the part still a little cautious for reasons you can’t quite name - that relaxes when the path he takes is familiar. Only a few steps, apartment on the right side of the hall.

“Let me get my keys,” you mumble, tugging your arm away from his and pulling your keychain out of your pocket. You’d opted not to bring a purse to your surgery, thinking you’d be riding the bus home mostly blind, so you’ve got virtually nothing to dig through before offering your keyring up.

They’re taken, you hear the familiar jungling soun, and then you’re being guided into your apartment by a firm hand placed at the small of your back. You can’t help but sigh deeply in relief, the familiarity of your home a comfort when you still feel so unachored without your sight.

“Very cute place you’ve got,” Johnny compliments, a smile audible in his voice.

“Thank you.” You hesitate just a moment before going on, unsure of how to phrase your next sentence. “And thank you for all the help getting home, Doctor, I really do appreciate it.”

A.k.a., I’m safe, you can leave.

“Aye, of course!” Johnny says, sounding almost offended like you were implying he wouldn’t usually take his patients home. Another part of you relaxes - he probably does this for every patient he sees at the end of a workday, you’re certainly nothing special. “Now, let’s get you settled nice and snug in bed, and then I’ll be on my merry way.”

“Oh, you really don’t have to-”

“Nonsense!” You’re cut off as he drops a heavy hand onto the nape of your neck, ignoring your slightly dramatic flinch and guiding you forward. “I’ve gotten you this far, would be a shame if I left you now and you took a tumble, hm?”

“I think I can get around my own apartment well enough, “ you try to protest, a little huff of offense escaping without your permission.

“Well, now we won’t have to test that theory.”

He moves quickly and just seconds later you’re sort of shoved onto your bed - almost oddly high off the ground, but you chalk it up to the way you stumble onto it.

Johnny scoops your feet up, laughs a little at your yelp and lays you out on the bed. You blink up into the dark glasses, a little gobsmacked at the sudden shift and odd amount of manhandling from the doctor.

“Do you have any pain meds, love? We wouldn’t want you wakin’ up in the middle of the night, all uncomfortable and hurt. Something light, like Advil or Tylenol?”

“Um, yes,” you stutter a bit, pushing yourself up onto your elbows and glancing up at where you hear his voice. “In my bathroom, on the counter. But Dr. MacTav-”

A hand presses into the center of your chest, forcing you back to the bed with a little oof before your hear him walk away. “Johnny, lass! What’ll I have to do to get you to call me the proper name, hm?”

His voice is almost jovial, and you hear him muttering to himself a bit through the open door of your bathroom before he returns. You hear water running for a moment, and then his shoes on the carpet of your bedroom as he comes back.

“Here,” he says as he grasps your hand, holding it palm open and dropping two pills into it. “And you had a spare cup in the bathroom, so you won’t have to swallow dry.”

“Thank… thank you, Doc- Johnny, truly, I appreciate it.”

You swallow dryly, suddenly thankful for the glass of water. The pills are small in your palm, familiar but there’s something in the back of your head screaming at you. You run your fingers over them absentmindidly, the stinging itch in your eyes growing.

Johnny scoops an arm around your shoulders, helping you sit up a bit and guiding the glass to your lips. “Here you are, lass, quick sip.”

You listen, then pop the pills into your mouth and swallow them with the water.

“Good girl,” Johnny hums, his voice vibrating through your side. His hand squeezes the shoulder in his grasp, and you shudder out a breath at the odd… intimacy? That doesn’t quite feel like the right word, but affection feels too distant for how close he holds himself.

You’re guided back down, head resting on a somewhat-flat pillow, and Johnny moves down to the end of the bed to take off your shoes.

Now that you’re resting in bed, it hits you how exhausted you are. The past few days of worrying over your procedure, the actual stress of the surgery itself, and the odd tension you’ve carried since all leave you feeling drained entirely once your head hits the pillow.

“We’ll get these shoes off so you’re nice and comfortable,” you hear Johnny say, his voice a little muffled now that you’re nearly half-asleep already. “Tired, lass?”

You only hum a bit, curling onto your side once both of your shoes are off, the sound of them thudding on the carpet almost silent. Your nose scrunches a bit as you get your first scent of the pillow. It doesn’t quite smell right, the lingering air of shampoo is definitely not one you’re familiar with.

There’s a shift of weight against your back, then a hand stroking over your head.

“Just sleep, bonnie. I’ll watch out for you.”

There’s a part of you, still awake enough, that thinks that isn’t right. But the more major part of you is already asleep.

———————————————————————

Johnny can’t help but smile as he watches you sleep. The little trail of drool dripping from your lips onto his pillow, the soft sounds of your breathing, the twitches to your expression as you dream.

You’re truly adorable. He’d known it as soon as you came for a consultation about the surgery, and every moment spent after has only cemented that in his head. Even the way you tensed and squirmed in his chair while he was working was cute, your desperation to be good and listen overpowering your fear of what he was doing.

He reflects on the day as he gets undressed, folding his clothes on your dresser. You’d been very nervous, and even his most soothing tone and friendly conversation topics hadn’t done much to help. It’s natural - nobody’s ever at ease with a scalpel held over their eye - but he’d still felt a little dissapointed that his presense wasn’t of much help calming you down.

But it’s alright. You’ll learn very soon that you can trust him.

It was easier than he’d expected to get you back to his home. You’re far too trusting, apparently - another reason it’s for the best if he keeps an eye on you - and past some clear tension in your stance, you hadn’t fought him once or even tried to make sure he had taken you to the right place.

Johnny’s certainly not going to complain, though. His plan had been half-baked at best. Honestly if you’d even put up a slight bit of resistance, he probably would have taken you back home - your home - and gone back to the drawing board.

He can’t help but smile a bit. The fact that you hadn’t fought at all is just more proof that this was meant to be.

He climbs over your body, his naked skin brushing against your clothes. You don’t shift at all as he rolls you to your back, your face still relaxed in sleep. His smile grows.

“Pretty girl,” he coos, brushing a hand over your face. “Can you hear me?”

Nothing. Not even a twitch.

It’s easy to push your shirt up your stomach. He doesn’t take it off, not quite willing to risk that much movement while the drugs could still be settling in.

God, the way you’d just taken his pills with no hesitation, with just complete and total trust in him to do right by you. It makes his cock stifen against your stomach, the way you’d just listened and trusted him.

He moans as he finally pushes your shirt up to your collarbones, the sight of your tits bringing him to full hardness almost immediately. You’d dressed up for him, soft white lace wrapped around your beautiful chest.

He ducks down to suck a peak into his mouth, tonguing at a nipple through the fabric. He groans a bit at the taste of your skin, muted as it is, and quickly tugs down the cup of the bra to get a real bite of you.

He could lay there at your tits for hours, he just knows it. He kisses his way across your chest, gives your other nipple some love and thumbing at the first with a free hand. He forces his movements to stay soft and slow, resists the urge to bite and leave a ring of teeth marks around your areola.

“Taste so good, baby,” he whispers as he pushes himself up, admiring the shiny spit across your skin. He rubs it in a little, spreading himself across any place his lips hadn’t touched. “Gonna let me get a taste of your pussy too?”

Obviously you don’t respond. Still, Johnny smiles down at you and moves to pet your stomach.

“Yeah, I know you will. Just wanna be a good girl for me, hm?”

Of course you do, he already knows you’ll be good to him - be good for him.

It’s easy to wrap his hands around your waist and flip you gently to your stomach. He guides your head to the side and pulls your hair away to make sure he can get a good view of your pretty face, leans down to give you a soft kiss on the cheek and breathes in the scent of your bodywash and shampoo.

Your pants are easy enough to get off, and he forces himself to tug them all the way off both legs before even looking at your sweet little ass. He’d been staring at any chance he could all day, had kept his eyes glued to your backside for the entire elevator ride up to his apartment when he was sure you couldn’t see his leering.

Now he can’t help but groan aloud when he kneels over your thighs, the sight of you vulnerable and limp beneath him almost too much to handle.

“C’mon, spread your knees for me, lass,” he mutters, slowly moving your legs to the side and moving between them. He’s careful as he props you up onto your knees, folding them beneath you and making sure to balance you with one hand on your hip so you don’t fall to the side.

He’s nearly drooling as he gets his first sight of your core - lips just slightly spread, pretty pink pussy peeking out at him. It’s almost too much, he has to give himself a few quick jerks just to lessen the ache building in his cock.

“Look at you,” he says on a sigh, dipping his head low enough to breathe in your scent. He hikes your hips up a little higher to keep you at the right angle, quickly shushes your little noise of discontent at the shift.

“It’s alright, you’re ok,” he reassures, petting over your hip a few times to calm your unconscious mind. “Just wanna make you feel good, pretty thing. You got nothin’ to worry about.”

He licks you, from clit to ass, to help you calm down a bit more. It works - your body goes a little more limp in his hold, your back arching more easily into the position he wants. He licks you several more times, groaning as he tries to cover every inch of your cunt, tasting every piece of skin he can. He lays his tongue flat at first, then uses the tip to make sure he doesn’t miss a spot.

“So good,” he moans, burying his face into your center and just breathing there for a moment. There’s a little bit of slick beginning to drip from your hole, but not much. He licks it up anyway, savoring the taste and promising to feast later.

He stays glued to your clit for a bit, taking the little bud between his lips and running the tip of his tongue over it again and again until he finds the exact spot that makes your thighs twitch, the pattern that has you whining every other breath.

Johnny moves back up, laps at the sweet nectar dripping steadily from you now. Every little flick of his tongue arouses you more, and no matter how long he keeps his mouth on you he knows he’d never run out of your taste.

It’s with only a bit of reluctance that he pulls away. He spreads both of your cheeks with his palms, admiring your two tight little holes and the sheen covering your most sensitive spots. He’d like to give your ass a few smacks, paint it red and watch you squirm, but he’s not sure how much sensation he can give you without pulling you from the drugs’ hold.

Which is also why he tucks a few fingers into your cunt, just to stretch you out. He’d like to fuck into you without any prep at all, watch your pretty face scrunch up as you’re spread on the thickest cock you’d ever taken (and he knows he’s the biggest you’ve had). Maybe you would even cry a little, blink teary eyes up at him and ask him to slow down.

He groans at the image, scissoring his fingers inside of you to prepare you as quickly as he can.

It’s easy to ease himself forward and line his cockhead up with your little hole. He knows another finger would’ve been a kindness, but with how his cock throbs between his legs he’s not sure he’ll make it very long once he’s finally inside of you.

So he taps the tip against your leaking hole, snorts quietly when the thought pops into his head that he’s almost knocking on a door, then slowly lets himself sink inside of your heat. He’s stares transfixed at the way your body opens for him so easily, a smooth coming together that he wishes he never had to look away from.

He keeps a secure grip on your hips, letting gravity do most of the work as his hips push forward steadily. His head rolls back on his neck, mouth hanging open and grunts spilling from his lips as your tight heat envelops him further and further.

He pauses halfway in to take a breather, just so he doesn’t come before his balls even meet your clit. Your body’s grip on him is unlike anything he’s ever felt, and he knos he made the right choice in bringing you home with him.

It’s hard, but Johnny manages to control himself and keep from fucking you too roughly. His thrusts are long and slow if a little extra harsh, and he stares down at your scrunched up little face and imagines all the filthy ways he’ll have you in the coming weeks.

You shift on your knees when he hits a particularly nice spot, little whines pouring from your throat on exhales. His thrusts nearly punch the air from your body, and he finds himself breathing in sync with you as he loses himself more and more to the pleasure.

He slips a hand from your waist to your clit as he gets closer. It would be awfully selfish of him to leave you needy after getting himself off, and he’s not about to deny himself the tight clench of your body as he brings you to climax.

It takes a little bit of trial and error to figure out what feels good for you - he can’t quite discern the difference between a nose scrunch of frustration and one of pleasure - but the steady pumps of his hips and the constant motions against your clit quickly bring you to the edge.

Your cunt tightens deliciously around him as you finally come, but the true beauty is in the way you go absolutely boneless beneath him. He has to firm up his grip on your waist just to keep you from sinking flat on the bed, huffing a laugh as he thrusts just a bit faster, just enough to get himself there too.

He lets his head fall beside yours as the two of you ride out your climaxes together, staring wide-eyed at the way your face relaxes into the pleasure. He leans forward enough to mesh your lips together, messily forcing your mouth open and licking at your tongue.

It’s not the best kiss - he has to do all the work, and he ends up soaking both of your chins in spit - but he relishes in it anyway. Your first kiss together is something he knows he’ll want to remember for years to come.

He hardly notices as he slips from your body, tingles shooting through every nerve leaving him mostly unaware of his body’s functions. He hardly has the energy to make sure he doesn’t crush you beneath him, instead laying beside you and tucking you into his chest.

“Thank you, bonnie,” he whispers into your hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “That was fantastic. Can’t wait to do it again, maybe you’ll do a bit more next time, yeah?” He laughs a little at his own joke, snuggling you close to him and letting his eyes shut slowly.

———————————————————————

You’re not sure how long it’s been when you wake up next, but you can tell immediately that something isn’t right.

First of all, you’re half naked. And you can tell you’re half naked because your legs are being cradled by someone else’s naked legs. And you know for a fact that you didn’t bring anyone home with you.

Except… it occurs to you slowly as you finally blink stinging eyes open, except you did. Dr. MacTavish brought you home.

And you let him into your apartment. You just handed your keys over to a man you hardly knew, let him guide you right to bed without any sort of fight.

Your head pounds with a vengeance, right behind your already hurting eyes.

You let him give you pills, too. You remember that, though it’s the last thing you remember. He asked where your pain meds were and you didn’t even bother to check that he’d given you what you expected. You just swallowed them with water, like this was a man you could trust.

The slight soreness between your thighs tells you that you couldn’t.

The tears that begin to gather in your eyes hurt, which makes you want to cry even more. You can’t hold back a sniffle, then a hiccup, then what sounds more like sobs than anything else.

You bring your hands up to cover your mouth, briefly recoil and the weight over your torso.

You can’t bring yourself to look, but you know who’s in bed with you.

Johnny wakes up just minutes later, shifting and making a soft sound of confusion. It must not take him long to put the pieces together because it only takes him a few seconds to start cooing, his rough palm cupping your face over your own hands.

“Lass?” He hums, and from your peripheral you see his brows furrow. It’s only a slight comfort that you even can see. “What’s wrong?”

That almost gets a laugh out of you. You nearly choke on the sound, spit catching in your throat. “What’s- what’s wrong?”

He sighs, like he already knows. Of course he knows. He has to know.

“Don’t be upset.” He leans a little closer, and to your horror you feel him press his lips against your forehead. “You can be awake next time, yeah? Then you won’t feel so left out.”

“Left out,” you echo, a strain of horror making its way into your voice.

“But only if you can be good,” he clarifies. “No fighting me now. Just keep being good for me and you can stay awake, alright?”

“Good…” You feel like a robot, but the combination of your headache and the absurdity of your situation leaves you unable to process what’s happening.

It processes much faster when you feel one of his hands slide up the shirt you’re - by some miracle - still wearing. It’s instinctual to jerk up the bed and away when he goes straight for one of your breasts.

“Get- get off me!” Your voice is nearly a shriek, the pitch sending a shock of pain up your skull.

You don’t make it very far in your tiny escape attempt, Johnny quickly hefting himself above you and pinning you down with his weight.

“Now, lass,” he scolds, face set in a frown that you can’t tell is sarcastic or serious. “What did I just say?”

You can’t make yourself speak, fingers trembling beside your head as you stare up at him with wide eyes.

“C’mon,” he goads, dropping his weight a little lower. “Just gotta do one thing for me to stay awake, tell me what it was.”

“I’m not-” you gasp a big breath, blinking up at the man above you. “I’m not fucking calming down! Get off of me, you freak, how dare you-”

“Alright!” He nearly shouts, drowning you out. “That’s enough of that. Back to sleep with you, I think. We’ll see if you can handle participating next time.”

He’s leaned to the side before you can really register what he’s said, scooping two little white pills into his palm and coming back over you.

“Open wide,” he taunts, lips curled into a small smirk as he holds his closed fist above your mouth.

Every instinct in you says to scream and shout, to fight back. But he’s got you pinned with your arms stuck between the two of you, unable to lift your hands and cover your mouth, so you clamp your lips as tightly shut as you can to keep him out.

Johnny only sighs, like you’re making his drugging terribly inconvenient. You squeeze your eyes shut to block out his face, praying that you’ll open them and this will all just be a terrible nightmare.

“Really, lass?” He complains, his free hand reaching up to pinch your nose. Without anything to hold him up, you’re nearly crushed beneath his body weight. “Very mature. I can pinch far longer than you can hold your breath, y’know. You’re making this difficult for no good reason.”

Your eyes fly open at that, glaring up at him with what you hope is a scathing look.

He only laughs.

“Very cute,” he hums, rubbing his nose against your cheek. Your chest burns from the lack of air. “I think you’ll be just perfect to keep around the house. You’ll brighten this place in all the right ways, won’t you?”

Your eyes well with tears as black stars begin to dance across your vision. Completely against your own will, your lips part and you suck in a deep breath.

Johnny doesn’t waste any time - you nearly choke on the pills as they fly down your throat with the air you desperately inhale. You nearly choke, hacking with tears streaming from your eyes, but Johnny just holds a hand over your mouth and brings you both up enough to harshly pat your back.

“There you go, you’re ok,” he mumbles in your ear, rubbing the place he’d slapped as your chest heaves with desperate breaths. The pills leave an uncomfortable lump in your throat, and you reach up to rub at it as if that will make it any better.

He stays like that, holding you close, for several long heartbeats.

“Good girl,” he hums, lips pressing to your temple and the sound rumbling through the contact. “I hope you won’t make me do that next time, I’d much rather you be awake for this next part.”

He lays you back slowly, and you distantly wonder what on Earth he’s given you to knock you out so quickly. Already your eyes feel heavier and you’ve hardly swallowed. You try to keep your eyes open as long as possible, which leaves you staring up at Johnny as he hovers above you.

“It’s not the worst thing, though,” he whispers, hand cupping your cheek and thumb passing your undereye. “I don’t mind having you like this, soft and sweet for me.”

Your eyes finally flutter shut just as you feel your legs being nudged apart.

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abiiors · 5 months

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silent treatment 💫 // ross macdonald x reader

a/n: this is not a christmas fic, this is just something that i had in my drafts for like a month now because @the1975attheirverybest sent me a photo of ross' tour bus (the one in the banner) from when she went to the baltimore show and of course i had nasty ideas about it lmao. so yes, here we go--the tour bus fucking fic hehe. i'm still really struggling with writer's block and hate everything i have been writing so this might be a bit shit :/ cw: brat-taming kinda, smut obv, dirty talk??? general nasty behaviour wc: 2.2k

american fans are loud.

well, all fans are loud; it’s not really a bad thing to be, but the american ones are especially loud, you’ve noticed. cheers and shouts and whoops of joy at the airport, and a collective roar that tears through the crowd every time the boys come on stage—it’s all part of the world. his world. your world.

girls shriek and cry wherever he goes, hugging him—their bodies pressed against his, their hands holding his, boldly flirting with him too sometimes. sure, he ignores it and only smiles politely. sure, he only signs their stuff and indulges them for selfies but the burn in your chest remains just the same. dull but prominent.

all in all, he likes america and america likes him. you? maybe not so much.

still, it’s not all hate. it’s fun being on the tour bus and driving through the big wide expanses of the midwest, certainly fun when his hand is buried between your legs and the other muffling your moans. fun to watch your nails digging into his thigh as you chase the high over and over again before falling limp against his chest.

today, however, you skew more towards annoyance.

he’s been so busy, he hasn’t even had the time to look at you properly much less talk to you for longer than ten minutes—what with having to leave one city and go to the other immediately. it’s been hectic and he’s seized the chance to nap whenever he can, just like polly and john who share the bus with you. not that you blame him for it—the exact opposite of it, in fact—you’re grateful for any rest he can get.

but the brattiness rears its ugly head sometimes. and now as you stand there in a corner, watching the instruments being taken out of their truck and brought backstage, you can’t help but bite angrily on the lollipop in your mouth.

ross is on the phone across the room, talking to a friend or a colleague or maybe even family. you don’t know. what you do know is his eyes are trained on you and you alone—rather, on your lips closed around the lollipop, on the sticky residue on your lips. your eyes in turn move to his hand—the one gripping the phone in a vice-like grip, knuckles almost white.

it only takes him another ten seconds to end the call and cross the room. and now here he is—towering over you, looking down at you.

“what’s up with you?”

you shrug, tongue flat against the sweet candy, “nothing.”

“nothing?” his voice is low. mostly to conceal it from the people all around you but also full of warning. so you’ve irked him then… good.

you choose not to answer, giving the lollipop a small lick instead. there’s barely any left now but you plan to enjoy every last bit of it.

“what, don’t wanna talk to me now?”

“me?” you ask, exaggerating the confusion in your voice. testing the boundaries.

“yes, you,” his eyes flash a little, “don’t act like you don’t know what i’m talking about.”

it’s a dangerous game to play with him, especially the way his pupils dialate every time you swirl your tongue around the last bit of the candy, relishing it thoroughly and letting its sweetness linger on your lips.

ross leans down, mouth directly next to your ear. “you can be a brat all you want, sweet girl. as long as you’re ready for the consequences.”

and before you’ve had the chance to reply, he bends down and closes his mouth around the rest of the lollipop. a loud crunch cuts through the silence. he straightens, smiles like nothing’s out of the ordinary and leaves you holding the now empty white stick.

ross is busy talking to the organisers of a local artists’ collective.

he laughs and chats animatedly and listens to them talking about how much they value this opportunity that the band has created. their voices are loud and boisterous—happy, giddy, excited. a complete contrast to you sulking in the corner, scrolling through tiktok and watching one pointless video after another.

his eyes flick to you once in while, linger on you when matty takes over the conversation. you see the warning in them so clearly. don’t be a baby. don’t pout. but you ignore and double down. if he doesn’t want to give you attention then you’re not going to beg for it. no matter how much you want to pull him into some broom closet and show him exactly what he’s missing.

you cross and uncross your legs and send him a look.

look what you to do me.

he sends one back.

busy. not now.

so you go back to your phone. scroll, a makeup tutorial, scroll, ten must buy amazon things, scroll, movies to watch this winter, scroll— a snap of his fingers breaks through your monotony.

“come share a fag with me.”

you take your sweet time looking and him an deciding if you’re in the mood to smoke, even go so far as to make him ask again.

“well?”

“sure.”

it’s quieter once you’re outside. there’s still the sounds of traffic and a bit of laughter floating out from the inside. somewhere someone’s playing a familiar tune and you watch ross light his cigarette. the fire casts a warm glow on his jaw briefly, on his stubble that’s coming in once again after shaving it off for halloween.

the skin on the inside of your thighs stings from the memory.

“open,” he says and you obey, letting him stick the end of the cigarette between your lips and taking a drag. the smoke burns but with some satisfaction you see the lipstick smudge you left behind.

ross is just taking his own drag when you blow the smoke on his face and shrug when quirks an eyebrow.

“generous of you to take five minutes out of your busy schedule.”

“careful, love,” he warns and lets you take another drag of the cigarette. “don’t be a brat. you know i’m busy.”

“you’re always busy.”

“is that so?”

he looks amused and it riles you up even more. he’s the one that’s supposed to be affected, not you! a beat of silence passes and ross slowly drags his fingers up your arms leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“my gorgeous girl,” he says and presses a kiss to your shoulder, moving his mouth to your jaw and then to your collarbone. “are you mad at me?”

“no.”

“no?”

you fight to contain the shiver that passes through you. even when you can feel the little tingles intensifying throughout your body. need swirls through your stomach the more his mouth moves on your neck.

“then what’s this silent treatment for, huh?”

“what silent treatment?”

“oh, baby,” ross tuts and his stubble grazes over the sensitive skin of your neck. “you really wanna play dumb?”

every retort flies out of your brain when he grabs a hold of your hips and pulls you close to him.

“you know what happens to dumb little bunnies, right?”

“y-yes.” it’s almost a whimper that quickly turns into a half moan when his hand rests on the back of your thighs, trailing up and up and up until it’s almost on the curve of your ass.

you yelp when he pinches the skin.

“you want to be fucked that bad, huh?”

and now you finally have him where you want.

“so now you want to be loud,” ross mocks and dives back under your dress.

this torture has lasted for a good ten minutes now. the insides of your thighs already feel raw and chafed. and he hasn’t even properly started yet. he’s still busy marking up the smooth skin of your legs.

“always a good girl when you want something from me, aren’t you?”

you nod fervently, trying to stifle the mewl that’s about to leave your mouth. instead you clutch his head and try to push him where you want. ross is quicker. before you ever know it, his hand it wrapped around your wrists and he pulls back again, looking at you with yet another warning glare.

his hair is a mess, his mouth wet from leaving all those kiss and bites on your skin but it’s his eyes that really get you—pupils blown out so wide that his eyes might as well be black.

“please ross, please,” you whine, shamless and desperate and dying for his mouth to be back on you.

“please what?”

“please make me cum.”

your pout has stopped affecting him a long time ago, even when you look at him with teary eyes and spread your legs wider. the underwear was discarded somewhere the minute you got inside the tour bus and now he has the perfect view of how wet you are. how ready for him.

the inside of the bus feels uncomfortably hot or maybe it’s just your skin that’s sticky and sweaty and in desperate need of his touch.

“no silent treatment anymore?”

“no,” you shake your head, “gonna be a good girl now. please please please.”

“yes, you are.” ross smiles and it feels more sinister than genuine. “i’ll stop what i’m doing if i hear another sound from you, baby.”

“w-what?”

“dumb little slut,” he mocks again, mouth so so close to your clit that it’s impossible to focus on anything else. “don’t want people to walk in on us, do you?”

“no. no!”

“then be quiet for me.”

easy for him to say. because his lips attach around your clit at that exact moment and you bite down on the back of your hand to stop the loud moan from escaping.

“ungrateful, spoiled little brat,” ross tuts, presses his tongue flat against your opening. “look at you now.”

the heady mix of big and small licks makes your head spin, makes you want to cry out his name over and over again but for the sake of your sanity you stay quiet. for each small whimper that still manages to escape you, you feel a small sting on your thigh—a nip or a bite.

“my sweet, filthy girl,” he coos, ghosting his lips over each bruise, each bite and goes back to torturing your cunt.

“ross, can i–oh! can i cum, please!”

“gonna cum for me, already?” he teases and pulls away entirely. “and what if i said no.”

the look you give him is one full of desperation—tears gathered on your lower lashline, bottom lip swollen and red from bitting hard to keep quiet.

“please!”

“no.”

and that’s that, just like that his head is back between your legs, tongue hot on your cunt as his nose pushed into your clit. between trying to stay quiet and trying not to cum you barely have any grip on reality. all you know is how it feels too much, too much pleasure, bordering on pain now. the urge to let go is too strong.

“let me ask you again, baby,” his voice comes through the haze in your mind. barely even audible. “are you done with the silent treatment?”

“y-yes, m’sorry!” you whine, “won’t do it again. wont—”

“look at you…” his condescending tone somehow turns you on even more. the humiliation somehow adds to the pleasure. “ready to be my good girl again?”

“yes, yes!” the buzzing in your ears is so loud now, his voice barely even comes through. all you know is the feeling of his tongue inside you and the stinging of your thighs. the sticky sweat on your skin.

your legs shake from the strain of denying yourself an orgasm, your head swims with too much of everything and nothing all at once.

“go on then,” he speaks. finally. “you can let go now.”

all you manage is a long whine and every single restraint drops. you think you grip his head between your thighs, practically convulsing from the force of the orgasm that hits you, trembling from the way his tongue laps everything up. it’s beyond you how he manages to hold you upright.

you think you scream out his name, practically alerting everyone in a five kilometre radius. you think you pull on his hair and hear him hiss. but ross lets you.

minutes later when he finally stands, his beard and mouth glistens with slick.

“there’s my good girl,” he coos and holds you in his arms.

“look at me,” he coaxes a bit until you manage to open your eyes and look at him properly. despite how fucked he looks, there’s a sweet smile on his face. and his eyes soften when you meet his gaze. “sorry i ignored you before, love. don’t be mad at me.”

“m’not mad at you.” you mumble and every single negative emotion from before melts away within seconds.

“good.” his smile widens, just a touch of mischievous once again. “now that you’ve learned your lesson… let me make it up to you.”

and just like that, he’s back on his knees, diving between your legs once again.

reblogs and comments are always appreciated <33

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tom-whore-dleston · 5 months

Note

for the event how about snooze with steven grant <3333 they just fit so perfectly together !!

Snooze

Pairing: Steven Grant x f. reader

Word Count: 1.5k

This fic contains: fluff, neighbors to lovers, insomnia, meet cute scenario, confessions, kissing, corny play on lyrics of Snooze

Summary: You are the main constant that helps combat Steven’s insomnia. This night, things are a little bit different.

Notes: omg Sil you are so right about how Snooze is Steven-coded!! Thank you bb for the request and I hope you enjoy 🥰🫶🏽 Thank you to @potatothots for beta reading and sharing your insight 🩷

Spotify Wrapped 2023 challenge | send a request here

Steven glared at the blue squares of his Rubik's Cube. It had been the third time he solved the three dimensional puzzle since the moon illuminated the night sky. The toy tumbled into his lap as Steven’s groggy eyes flickered towards the shimmering sphere that tauntingly gazed back at him.

The classical record that was meant to aid his sleep came to an end. Steven lost track of how many times he played that record. When his insomnia began many moons ago, the record did wonders for his sleep. Now, it basically is a broken record because of how often he played it at night.

Yet, there was one constant that always helped him fall asleep. And that was you.

You were new to the apartment complex and moved in right next to Steven. The way you both met was one for the books. Your flat mate was running late for work due to lack of sleep from the night before. He rushed out the door, struggling into his coat. Without realizing, his shoelaces dragged carelessly across the floor. Steven, as clumsy as he was, crashed into you carrying a box of clothes, and you both fell to the floor.

The British man’s eyes widened. “Oh my- I am terribly sorry! Are you alright?” His eyes widened even more after one glance upon your beauty.

You sat up chuckling, unaware of his gawking. “No need for apologies. I am perfectly fine.” Then, you noticed the items scattered on the floor. “Although, I’m not too sure about the pile of clothes.” The man mirrored your movements as you crawled towards an article of clothing.

“Allow me to help you ma’am,” Steven began tossing shirts and sweaters into the box. As you reached for your favorite scarf, a strong hand slightly brushed against yours. You stared into each other's eyes, smiling softly. You could have sworn you saw a twinkle in his brown eyes.

“Oh heavens, I am late for work!” He checked the time on his watch and began to panic. “I missed my bus, too!”

“Perhaps I can take you to work?” You helped him to his feet, and your cheeks grew hot as he began to tower over you.

“Oh no, I-“

“It’s okay. I want to.” You paused. “Don’t worry, I don’t bite.”

Steven unclenched his jaw and let out a quick laugh. “Thank you ma’am! I cannot thank you enough for your kindness.”

“It’s my pleasure…” your voice dropped upon realizing you didn’t know the name of the British man before you.

“Steven. Steven Grant.”

It was a typical late Saturday night when you arrived at your apartment complex. Your watch peeked through your cuffed long sleeve, catching a glimpse of the time.

3:00. That was a record time for the latest you came home from a shift at the local bar. Your body, especially your legs, yearned to crash into the coziness of your bed and sleep until the sun was at its peak in the sky. As you approached the door to your apartment, you stopped in your tracks after meeting your neighbor’s hazy eyes.

“Steven?”

The gentleman in question half smiled. “Hello, darling.”

“Rough night?” You interrogated knowingly. Steven nodded with closed eyes.

You fumbled your key into the lock for a moment before opening the door and stepping to the side. “C’mon in. I’ll make us some tea.”

Steven walked into your apartment and headed towards your couch, as he had done many nights before. He wrapped himself in the blanket you knitted yourself as you fixed a pot of tea. The blanket smelled like you, which always brought him a sense of comfort. A kind of comfort he couldn’t find in his own home. In fact, Steven couldn’t remember the last time he felt any sense of security before meeting you.

“You really fancy that blanket, huh?” You giggled, admiring how adorable he looked being swaddled in your own creation. The day you moved in, you decided to knit a blanket to combat your boredom. Once it was finished, you didn’t dare touch it as you were too afraid it would get ruined. The first night you welcomed Steven into your apartment, he was immediately fascinated with the blanket that he cozied onto your couch bundled in the blanket before falling into the best sleep he had in a while.

“I do, indeed. It helped me sleep when I had no other way of falling asleep.” Steven peered down at the wooly fabric, tracing over the patterns as if his next words were hidden between the stitches.

“Well, I’m happy to have helped you in a subliminal way.” The rest of your surroundings blurred as Steven became the focus of your gaze. Your heart skipped a beat as the dim light in your living room accented his structured face and wavy dark locks. Even with the blanket draped over his frame, his plain white t-shirt did little to hide his muscular arms and broad shoulders.

The abrupt screech of the kettle caused you to jolt and you quickly turned off the stove to avoid the sound reaching your other sleeping neighbors. After steeping chamomile bags in two separate cups, you joined Steven on the couch, leaving a respectful distance between the two of you. You handed him a mug and he gingerly peeled it from your grip. Your teeth gritted together as his soft fingers brushed against yours. Steven frowned, noticing your shift in demeanor.

“You cold, darling?” He shimmied out of the blanket, letting it fall to his waist.

“It’s okay, it’s no big deal-” Suddenly, Steven scooted next to you before throwing the blanket over both of your laps with one hand. It was the smoothest thing you had ever witnessed, you forgot how to breathe in that moment.

“There we are. It wouldn’t be right of me to hog all of your blanket.” You couldn't help but laugh. Without further thought, you and Steven simultaneously sipped your cups of tea, the hot beverage instantly calming your mind and muscles. Steven hummed happily as the tea warmed his body. Yet, he was still wide awake.

The grandfather clock that stood strong in your living room ticked loudly to fill the silence of the room. It glared dauntingly into your and Steven’s souls as you drank your tea while avoiding each other’s gazes. The pendulum swung from side to side as if waiting for one of you to make a move. As Steven drank the last drop of tea, he was left with no other choice but to break the silence.

“You know something, love?” You suddenly became more interested in Steven as you set the mug on your coffee table. “Ever since I met you, things have changed.”

“I hope it’s a good kind of change.”

Steven peered down, smiling softly. “Yeah, it was. For starters, you have really helped me combat this insomnia. I couldn’t tell you about the last time I had a good night’s sleep.” Your lips curled into a dopey grin, and your skin grew hot. Yet neither the tea nor the blanket contributed to the warm feeling inside you.

“Then, there is your kindness. No one has been as nice as you have been to me so it feels reassuring to know there’s still good people out there. You are also extremely bold. To move all the way from across the pond is…It’s brave. You’ve done all the things I’m scared to do.” He rambled on and on but one thing reeled in your attention. “To tell you the truth, I’m quite smitten with you, love.”

“Steven…” You were at a loss for words. Your heart skipped a beat after learning he felt the same way about you.

“Forgive me if I am too forward, but-”

“No, not at all. In fact, I feel the same way towards you.” Your hands met in the middle of the blanket, bringing you back to the moment your hands first touched outside your doors. This time, the spark between you two was much stronger.

“Can I kiss you, love?”

“I thought you would never ask.”

Steven laughed before cupping your face with his large hands and pressing his lips against yours. The kiss was soft and sweet yet full of passion. It reminded you of a flame so bright you couldn’t help but reach out and touch it because you knew it wouldn’t hurt or scar you. Your lips molded together like a sculptor forming the greatest piece that’ll be admired for centuries to come. Time froze as your lips danced in unison and space ceased to exist around you and between you.

Losing sleep was the last thing on Steven’s mind. For how could he lose when he was with you? Sleep will eventually find its way back to him. He couldn’t snooze and miss the moment of you and him in each other’s embrace.

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#SPOTIFY WRAPPED 2023 🎵#STEVEN GRANT #MOON KNIGHT #MR KNIGHT #OSCAR ISAAC #STEVEN GRANT X READER #STEVEN GRANT X YOU #STEVEN GRANT FANFICTION #STEVEN GRANT FIC #STEVEN GRANT IMAGINE #STEVEN GRANT FLUFF #fluff #reader insert #no y/n #psychedelic-ink #bb sil 💕#request fulfilled ╰( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° )つ──☆*:・ﾟ

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shutupheathersorryheatherr · 1 year

Text

“Morning, baby"

summery: a short keeho fic about the morning after sleeping together. Centered around his deep voice that he apparently has lol cause I didn’t know about it

warnings/info: suggestive, talking about “the night before” where keeho and reader had sex, gn! Reader, mentions of keehos fingers inside of reader (not specified where lol), it’s basically all centered around keehos deep voice @jasminexox5 sent a clip of to me a little bit ago, kissing, LOTS of kissing, hastily edited

•••••••••••••••••••

You rolled over, the comforter slipping down from your shoulders in the process and your eyes fluttering open. You were just in your underwear and a tee shirt, having hastily grabbed the first from the floor next to his bed the night before.

The night before... yes, the night where you both came undone around each other, wrapped in each other. Your hand unconsciously came up to your neck. The part he marked up and kissed the night before. God, his kisses. On your neck, on your stomach, on your thighs. Soft and wet, making you writhe in your place and grip the pillow he gave you for the night

His fingers is what you can't get out of your head next, seeing them next to his head as he lays there looking like an angel. A large contrast to last night when he had them curled and pumping in and out of you. That was one of the many times last night he had you begging for more of him. Those fucking fingers, you mentally scoffed.

At that time you wanted noting more than to have them in your mouth again, sucking on them as a show-- a precursor if you will, to what you wanted to do to him again. Just like last night. Making one beg for the other was each of your kryptonite. Having him where he struggles to keep his hands to himself made you want to remake last night all over again. This time with the morning light streaming in from the cracks in his curtains that made his face have that beautiful glow you loved to see so much.

that was another thing: the beautiful feature that rested perfectly in the middle of his sleeping face. His nose, to you, could not be described by means of words alone. It perfectly captures every word describing something beautiful you could think of. Sat perched tall and proud on his face, like it knew of its worth. You told Keeho a lot about how you thought his nose was so pretty, too. It seemed like you could never stop. Others might think you were overreacting. It was just a nose, right? But once you found another thing about him that made you feel all sorts of ways-- your stomach jumping with the overwhelming need for him to bring you to orgasm, the warm feeling it gave you when he pressed it into your neck while hugging you, the list could go on. But that was something worth rambling about, right?

you You sighed contently. You knew you'd have to wake him up soon. The both of you would have to get your days started sooner or later. But, as always, it seemed like he read your mind before you got the chance to say what you were thinking. His eyes blink open a few times, mimicking you a few moments ago. Or maybe it was an hour ago. Who really cared? He sparked a lot of thoughts, and all his face made you wanna do was look at it some more. You could spare a few more minutes searching and memorizing how his knuckles curved or how his pretty nose twitched in his sleep. In fact, you were sure if your boss knew what he looked like he'd let you off the hook for being late because you spent too much time taking him in and basking in his presence. That was, if you were late. Which could have very well happened if the man didn't open his eyes so soon.

You smiled as he blinked sunlight and sleep out of his eyes, your thoughts of how good he made you feel the night before dissipating from your head entirely and replaced with thoughts of him, him, him. A smirk graced his facial features as he realized you staring at him. "Morning, baby." He said, his voice surprising you. You'd heard it time and time again before, but its contrast to how he usually speaks will never fail to surprise you. It was deep and darker in tone, thicker. resembling dense wood

Well, now you were really definitely wide awake. It seamed to enchant you, flashing images of him in your mind like bright lights. You've thought about him in many ways, but not because of this. He seemed to noticed. Not clearing his throat when he said, "What? you seem a little off. Did you sleep ok?" You nodded, not really trusting yourself to speak, not knowing if you wanted to respond or not. You didn't even want to think of what him talking in that voice again would do to you. You smiled to yourself at your boyfriends antics.

He leans forward, nuzzling his nose into your exposed neck, huffing out a puff of air there. His fingers commence a shiver-up-the-spine-causing dance across your shoulders, rubbing them gently. You sigh into his hair, relaxing again, thinking that maybe he'd just get up. Thinking that maybe, just maybe you were out of the woods that was his thick as tree canopies voice. "Does that feel good, baby?" Keeho asked. That fucker. He knew exaclty what he was doing. You could see it in his eyes. In the way his lips curved up in a way that made your head spin even more.

“hm? You alright? You seem nervous?” He asked, “am I going too hard?” You shook your head. Another wordless answer as his fingertips dancing long your skin, making your hairs raise, and voice thick as slow dripping molasses makes your head spin. "Words, please." He chuckles. And although it's a simple request, thats when you cannot possibly take any more of it. Of him being so fucking-- You don't even know. Was it agrivating you? Or was it simply only turning you on too much then you'd ever thought a voice and a shoulder massage would.

You deemed it to be a mixture of both. Whatever it was, you didn't care. You flip your body around to the man behind you, causing his nimble fingers that you craved to fall off your shoulders and drop to your sides. Not exactly where you wanted them right now, but it'll have to do. They were pretty close to it anyways. Although he smiles, he still seems surprised-- confused, even, by your actions.

"Whoa, baby. What're you--" You could only provide him with a a simple, two word answer. One whispered so quietly even the sun peaking in from between your curtains would've have heard it. Not the extra blanket that had been kicked onto the floor while the both of you were sleeping, not his tee-shirt thrown off in a haste the evening before and then long forgotten. Noting and Nobody. "Want you." You breathed against his lips before diving in. "Now." You pulled apart with a whine, not wanting to leave that beautiful soft feeling of his lips. "That can be aranged." He smiled. Then pulled you against him as he laid down on the sheets, causing you to land on top of him. You sighed contently, feeling that the plushness of his lips swallowing yours whole in a needy kiss as his hands started to roam your body.

End ~~~~~~~~~~~

thank ya'll for reading!! please leave a comment and/or a reblog if you liked this! :) I got the individual pics from Pinterest by the way!

©️2023copywrightforshutupheathersorryheathr

#keeho smut #p1h keeho #p1harmony smut #p1harmony #keeho scenarios #keeho #keeho imagines #keeho fluff #p1h imagines #p1harmony fluff #Ghosts writing #K pop x poc reader #Keeho x poc reader #p1harmony x poc reader

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svndaysaweek · 1 year

Text

Enlightenment (Prequel to ‘Homicidal’) — {Feat. Karina, Somi}

7.1k words

A/N: Hi, I'm 7daysaweek! This is a prequel to my very first fic, 'Homicidal'. I don't know how I got to write this long. Big big thank you to @dnd-writes and Delphi for editing and proofreading (and rewriting) this!! And thanks for liking my stuff y'all...

TW: Sexual Harassment (Rape), mentions of death.

Tags: Creampie, anal, choking, bondage, master-slave, squirting and a lot more...

——————

"Fuck, fuck, fu-bbb...!"

"Quiet, Jimin."

You palm her mouth with your right hand and hug her waist with the other then push her sweaty back onto your body.

Your hand on her mouth goes down to her bouncing tits as the other thumbs her anal entrance then you double the pace and the slapping sound of your flesh almost evens her scream.

"Aaah, fuck, fuck, fuck!"

Her head falls down as her neck loses its strength but you bring it back up with a handful of her hair.

"Do you see anyone looking at us, baby?"

Almost everyone is, in fact. It would be even harder not to notice a loud couple fucking in an outside parking lot, upon the poorest attempt to hide behind a car. However, you are not looking for some normal passerby, and for your predatory hunger, Jimin spots a proper prey.

"Fuck–Ah, there! That–that tall girl noticed–ahh–us,"

Her finger points somewhere but helplessly limps down on the car. You follow her finger and spot a girl looking your way. The color of her name tag indicates that she's a 1st grader—two years junior to you. As soon as your eyes meet she quickly avoids it by turning her head away.

Good. She's going to be your target.

You're hunting for another clumsy slut to tame and fuck, and this is the best way you've ever discovered.

"Great job, Jimin,"

You slap her ass and duck your body to bite on her ear. She lost her last drop of consciousness—you know she already came countless times. You can tell by her shaking legs and convulsing walls. Jimin is now nothing but a limp moaning mess dumped on some car, taking relentless assault on her pussy.

"Here's your reward."

Yes, please, Jimin begs with her eyes. You see the neediness in them.

"Oh, please... Aaaah it's so good–fuck!"

A brutal bite is marked on her white shoulder as you color her walls white. In between the car and your tired body, hers is periodically lifting yours up and down with heavy breathing—let alone the irregular spasms matching your throbbing cock.

"You're a fucking slut, Jimin."

You breathe those words out right into her ear. They obviously were insulting words, but only worked to make her smile and even giggle a little bit.

"You love me like that,"

You squeeze Jimin’s tits for the last time then put your pants back on. You buckle your belt and nonchalantly ask Jimin, who is still struggling to descend from her high..

"Do you know her name?"

Jimin breathes heavily as if even her lungs convulse from the sex that just happened.

"Uhh, Somi maybe? Haa, yeah. It's Somi."

"Is she popular?"

You flip her body to button her shirt back up and put her jacket on. Not necessary but at least you let her look presentable.

"Yeah, quite. Among first graders. She's got nice tits and a pretty face but doesn't socialize often. Not sure she has a boyfriend around."

You nod throughout her speech. A popular girl who's introverted, that'd be perfect to play on. Prey on.

Alright, so that Somi girl is up next.

******

You're intentionally on the same bus as Somi, with Jimin accompanying you. The bus is packed with a lot of people returning home but you two are the exceptions to that. You push through the people in your way as you approach Somi from behind.

You then purposefully push your body on hers, making sure she notices you by rubbing your crotch on her clothed ass. Somi gets startled by a sudden touch on her ass and apologizes to you.

"Oh! Oh, I'm-I'm sorry,"

She recognizes you. You catch that split-second moment when her eyes widen at you. You, however, to her apology, don't give a shit and raise your hand to reach for a bar to hold onto, of course making sure you touch her breasts by accident. Somi this time doesn't speak but shrieks a bit at your touch, throwing an embarrassed glimpse at you then quickly looking down at nowhere.

To your eyes it's only a horny girl acting innocent because you saw it in her eyes—the burning sensation. Her face is visibly red, hands have lost their destination, legs can't just stay calm. Moreover, she doesn't even try to avoid the contact on her ass.

See? It's just too easy. It's not even gonna be a one-sided rape—her inner slut might be begging for it anyway.

So this is the plan: You heat her up on the bus, get off at the same stop, stalk her and then fuck her somewhere creepy. That'll make her give in completely. That'll draw a complete obedience out of the most basic instinct inside her.

The bus arrives at the stop where Somi gets off so you and Jimin follow her. As soon as she enters a rather deserted alley, you snatch Somi by her wrist and push her onto the wall.

She squeals out loud at the sudden hostility only to be silenced by your hand gripped around her neck hard.

Somi resists you but Jimin ties her arms behind her back with her own necktie. Somi then starts to kick your legs and you start to feel a little bit pissed off.

Slap.

You slap her cheek hard and her swinging legs stop moving. Somi looks up at you weakly with her eyes as a teardrop runs down her reddened cheek. Those legs settled, you pull down her skirt and panties in one sway. Jimin chokes Somi with her arms as you insert your dick inside her pussy with no resistance.

"Gah, hagh-!"

You can see her knotted arms struggle for freedom. Regardless of that you rip open her buttoned shirt to reveal a jiggling pair of voluptuous tits waiting for your attention. You tug down Somi's bra and slap her tits hard. Her moans then gradually turn into painful yelps and ecstatic screams.

"Ahh! S-stop, please-ah!-stop it! Hikkh-"

Jimin tightens her choking arm around her neck. Somi's face starts to redden even more furiously.

"Shut up, I know you want this."

Somi shakes her head. She shapes her mouth to say "no" but her voice is no longer available. Her mouth is now agape for more air. You up the pace of your thrusts and slap her cheek again.

"Then let me fucking make you."

Somi's eyes are half-closed due to orgasmic sensations and lack of air. As Somi approaches her high she loses her consciousness. Somi's last desperate efforts to escape from your grasp and Jimin's arms are nothing but a cute thing to watch.

You slap on her tits several more times—you like seeing her shiver every time you do. Actually, it's just your sadistic, psychopathic taste that you just like to hit, slap, choke and fuck.

Squeeze, slap, squeeze, slap. That pair of meaty flesh is such a good toy to play with.

Somi's empty gaze is locked on your eyes. Tears are now everywhere on her cheeks. Her wet juice is all over her thighs too. You rub her clit with fingers and she shudders—strength in her legs already long gone. Her voice is long gone. Somi's lips keep moving but it doesn't even shape any word. Only the lips down there feel alive.

Despite the lack of air, her walls are working properly—they convulse hard and soon she cums. Somi's eyes roll back to her head as she passes out, before falling down limply on the ground.

"Dirty fucking slut. I didn't even cum yet,"

You're talking to yourself, but at the same time you weren’t only to yourself.

Jimin grins as she looks at your throbbing cock then she kneels down in front of you and starts to suck it. The moment her lips sealed the head, you grab on to her head and begin fucking into it.

"Holy fuck, Jimin. Always a good slut for me, aren't you?"

You always talk like that, but you're no different from Jimin in that you're a good, perfect dick for her, and she knows it because once she hears thatshe looks up at you with those teary eyes and smirks. Not surprising at all that her hand is already working diligently on her soaking cunt.

It's not been long since you began facefucking Jimin, but the growing orgasm from the previous session is approaching. Without warning her, you pull her head inward for your balls to hit her drooling chin then cum straight into her gulping throat.

"Phaah, you're fucking delicious, baby. Bet she wants me to share a bit."

With remnants of your cum still inside her mouth, Jimin spits it out onto Somi's mouth and face. While you're arranging your pants, Jimin opens Somi's mouth and kisses your cum on it into it.

"Jimin, that won't wake her up,"

You laugh and tease Jimin kissing Somi.

The title Sleeping Beauty sounds about right on Somi. Those tits, that midriff, those slender legs, that cunt, and above all the attitude taking all of your assault. All virtues you consider appropriate is inside her, your potential slave for sex. Besides, Jimin seems to like her too.

You carry Somi to her home. Opening the door with her fingerprint, you step in to find the inside neat.

"Inside's quite nice,"

Jimin says as she sits on the bed after she opened the door to Somi’s room. You toss Somi's limp body on it then look around.

A frame on the nightstand and the photo inside catches your eyes. There's Somi smiling next to a guy as they hold each other's hand.

"Hey, you think this is her boyfriend?"

You ask Jimin as you show her the picture. She laughs and answers.

"Yeah, he looks dumb though,"

Jimin's hands drag you to the bed. She hugs you from behind and whispers into your ear.

"You could just take him out."

Jimin's big breasts push into your back, and there you grow impatient and push Jimin down on the bed. With a light squeal she lies down. You get over her body and kiss her.

There's brute in the kiss. There's violence in it. Jimin pulls back to breathe and you can see it in her eyes.

There's lust in them. You're no different, anyway.

"My little girl is getting horny, huh?"

Of course, watching you fuck another girl and being facefucked doesn't help her patience.

Needy words come out of Jimin's mouth.

"There's not even a second I'm not horny when I'm with you."

Jimin's mind is totally conquered by lust solely for you. Nothing new for you, though.

"I like that,"

You thumb her cheek softly—opposite to how you're going to treat her.

"Let me fuck your brains out, Jimin."

A declaration that earns you another slurpy kiss. Your right hand makes its way straight to her crotch, and her hand brings your left hand to her clothed tits. You can feel her taut nipples through her uniform.

"Mmm..."

Jimin moans into your mouth and the sound reverberates through your skull. You've always liked the quick reactions from Jimin. Her moans, screams and sometimes yelps tell you how well you are doing—how good you are.

You push the button to play her moan. Your fingers are now rubbing on her clitoris. Under her skirt you can feel the heat radiating from the very core of her body. The heat that you yourself provoke on her body. An aphrodisiac in the form of a human. That's what you are to Jimin.

That's what every man is eager to be, and you use it as a weapon to just pick a girl and enslave her. Jimin is no different from Somi's case—it's just a little more intimate between you and Jimin. And that makes you feel the massive pride to have the influence reach her. A perfect fuckbuddy with slight obedience.

"Ah, shit–Mmm yes...!"

You push your fingers into her cavern. You don't bother counting how many—two or three, it doesn't matter. She'll even accept your fist happily.

Your whole body and Jimin's are shaking by the pistoning of your arm. The bed is too, and Somi's body next to you obviously is too. As if intended to wake her up, you are quaking the bed, and Jimin under you is providing auditory stimuli—screams, yelp, squelching sound. The room you're inside is full of the sound of sex, and it hits the walls and ceiling in every direction possible—it echoes as it does, too.

It's been long since her eyes were shut. Jimin's lustful intention to concentrate all her nerves and senses on the sensations of sex she is receiving. Only a slight bit of excess will be enough to tip her over, and you can feel that you're almost on the verge of it.

"Hey, eyes on me,"

You choke her, an action that serves as the opposite of your direction to open her eyes. Somehow she manages to open her eyes, but still fails to follow your order.

"Haa, haa, fuck..."

Her eyes are not on yours. You can see that she tries her best to look at you, but your fingers—both on her neck and in her pussy—keep her eyes inside her head.

"I'm-I'm...Aaah—!"

Both of her hands dig into the mattress as she cums hard—Jimin always does, in front of you. At that moment you quickly undo your pants and boxers and hastily start rubbing on her reddened pussy lips, to gain some wetness on your dick for lubrication. Also while lubing your dick, you don't miss the chance to slap on them, which makes Jimin's trapped throat vibrate from her desperate efforts to let out moans. Seeing that your dick glisten with Jimin's nectar, without warning you insert your dick into her asshole, also resuming what your fingers were doing.

Your hand over her throat goes down to harshly squeeze her tits. They deliciously jiggle whenever you move inside her, whenever you touch it, and whenever you slap on it. Your hands aren't choking her anymore but she's still breathless—the sex itself is doing it.

Her eyes slam shut again as her squirt swashes on your fingers and the bed, as soon as you pull your fingers out. Jimin bites her lower lip and she hisses out her moan.

"Ffff–! Huh..."

You just chase your own pleasure, regardless of her tipped over state. Even if she yells stop you will. It's an unprepared anal session, but she's taking it very well. So tight and warm. And with her own fingers inside her used cunt she is making it even wetter.

"God, you're so fucking delicious,"

Yeah, delicious. That's the only feeling forming up inside your mind. Yoo Jimin underneath you has surely been seismic—on your mind and on the bed.

She certainly hears you but can't find any way to respond, still in the middle of orgasmic haze. You are still anally destroying her to the end—a close end for now. Your climax is approaching, and you never want to delay it. Actually, your pace even goes up as you cross the line. Jimin screams and even without any help her pussy squirts wildly.

"Fuck, I'm cumming...!"

You do in her ass, making sure her plump ass is filled up from the inside. The bed stops creaking and you feel like the world has also stopped—to you it might have, for a second..

The only remaining sound is Jimin's uncontrolled breathing and your heavy breath. You can see her abs convulse and flex, with her entire body spasm wildly because of that. You lie next to her on the damp mattress, almost throwing yourself onto it. Then Somi falls from bed onto the floor.

Yet she's unconscious.

"You must've choked her really hard, huh?"

You say looking up at the ceiling, and as a response Jimin giggles weakly.

"Yeah,"

Then she puts her arm over your body softly. Her fingers are fidgeting on your skin.

"Hey, can you pass me the cigarettes? I can't move now."

You get off the bed and take the cigarettes and a lighter.

"Here,"

You put one between her lips and light it.

A long puff and she smokes out. As you're lighting yours she taps the ash off onto the floor. Your eyes meet each other but you two stay silent. Cigarettes after sex feel so cozy, as you and Jimin do nothing but inhale them and smile at each other.

When you're done smoking you dress up and prepare to leave Somi's house. Her room is filled with smoke, but you couldn’t care less.

Half an hour has passed since you entered her house but she's yet to come back to consciousness. Having packed all your stuff you open the door.

"Ah, right. Almost forgot it,"

You walk back to Somi next to the bed and untie her arms. They both slide to the floor with a silent thud.

"My clumsy lady,"

You bring it to her neck and tie it around her neck tidily for her, which earns you a loving kiss from Jimin.

Her daring lips are hindering your actions—an interference that you would always welcome. Both of your mouths still smell like smoke but you don’t care at all. This time is just for your tongues to explore each other's mouth, not any other senses, just like your hands are now exploring each other's body.

It continues for a few dozens of seconds then you manage to grab hold of your sanity.

"God, we should get out of this place or we'll spend the whole night fucking."

She laughs in agreement.

"But I kinda like that idea,"

"Oh, you're gonna pass out like her,"

You say stepping out of the door.

"I like that too."

You spank her lightly, laughing. It's just fun to see how that subby girl in bed turns into this adorable little baby. But–

But are you no different from how you are, who you are in bed? You certainly have two faces—you are now Jimin's lover, but in bed you become reckless, ruthless, conscienceless, even psychopathic in front of sex, like your blood burns for violence. You're just thanking god that Jimin is the perfect partner for you to take in all of these.

"You're insatiable,"

You say as if nothing crosses your mind.

"You like it, don't you?"

Jimin starts to run towards the bus stop without giving you time to retort, running with a smile on her face looking childish and cute.

See, this is your problematic personality. You just raped a girl into unconsciousness, fucked your girlfriend in that girl’s bed and have no guilt on your mind. You might be right, because you know Somi didn't hate it. But would it still be right if you continue living like this?

******

The bell rings to officially announce the lunchtime break. You are waiting for Jimin at the parking lot as usual, as you see your girlfriend accompanied by another girl. It's Somi.

"Jimin, why did you bring this bitch here?"

You ask her after planting a light peck on her lips.

"I didn't. She came to me and asked me to."

Somi surely looks shy to make eye contact with you. Her hands are grabbing each other on her belly and she's looking down on the ground.

"You did, little girl?"

You kindly ask her, bringing her hand to yours. She gasps at your touch but accepts it to go on.

"You have a boyfriend, right? I saw his picture yesterday in your room,"

Jimin continues instead of you, as she unties Somi's necktie.

"Well, you're gonna have to make a choice, Somi."

You tell her as you bring your hand down onto her crotch, under her skirt. You can feel the heat—another slave for your cock is ready for you.

"Wh-what choice is it...?"

You grin. Jimin this time ties Somi's necktie around her neck very tight, successfully choking her.

"Your boyfriend,"

You pause for a second to bring her hand to the bulge on your pants.

"Or this."

Somi's shaking eyes look at you—she's becoming hesitant. But you are certain that it'll be an easy choice for her after all—she already did come here at her will, didn't she?

"Make your choice,"

You tighten the knot around her neck and she shrieks and stumbles toward you.

"I-I don't need my b-boyfriend anymore. I'll choose you,"

You slap her cheek as Jimin undoes Somi's shirt and skirt.

"No, you don't get to choose it. It is my decision to let you serve this cock."

Her tears drop down her cheeks but you know she's loving it, because not only her face is getting wet..

Her panties are damp. Juices drip down her thighs and you can see it.

"Sorry...Please let me serve your cock sir..."

You discontentedly bring her face in front of you powerfully and she stumbles and falls down.

"Uh-uh,"

Somi realizes what you mean and follows.

"... Master,"

The scenery in front of you is a sight to behold—a girl in such a heat kneeling in front of you, looking at you, calling you master with a makeshift leash around her neck. You feel like you want to choke her to death right now, and you also feel like she'll even let you.

"Wow,"

Jimin sounds shocked.

"Even I don't say that,"

Well, you'll see.

"Nice. Now show me how you are going to serve me, slave."

Somi gulps as you let your cock spring out of your pants. It hits her face and she loves it. You give her no time to admire and shove it right into her throat to the hilt, with the first thrust.

It's not surprising at all that she gags and coughs wildly, but that only provokes your fiery instinct to punish her for it.

And that punishment is you ramming your cock down her throat in a neck breaking pace—even faster than when you fucked her yesterday.

Somi's hands have long lost their proper position as they wander on your thighs, slightly pushing you off. But the more she resists, the more you want to devastate her.

"He's not gonna stop until he cums down your throat, little slut. You'll have to adjust to it."

You know, Jimin was just the same at first. She was nothing more than a gagging, coughing amateur, just like what Somi is now.

She grabs the leash and chokes Somi, but that makes no difference—that's just what your cock is doing already. Somi’s drool gathers on her cleavage—her tits are as big as Jimin, as you can confirm. And it falls down to the ground from her chin and your balls.

You can feel her every gag and it feels divine. You've unearthed another diamond by yourself. Somi's lack of air is bottoming out as she tries to pull out.

"Wrlk, glrk...!"

No way you're going easy on such a slut. Somi frowns from breathlessness but the only thing you care about is your own pleasure, not her safety.

"Nnngh, fuck!"

Thankfully, you soon unload your thick liquid down her throat, straight into her stomach. You stay there for about ten seconds and then pull out. Somi falls completely down on the ground as she breathes heavily for her system to recover properly. She can't even swallow it all, and it sprays out as she coughs several times.

"Oh, what a shame,"

Jimin pretends to pity her, but her hands are bringing the exhausted girl up to your arms.

"He's not done yet, little bitch."

Somi has not enough power to gulp down your cum in her mouth, but that's nothing to worry about at all—Jimin's mouth seals Somi's to keep it from spilling out. Somi irresistibly lets Jimin take her hard-earned load from her mouth, and Jimin's tongue moves hungrily inside Somi's mouth as she kisses her. Somi hurriedly gulps some down but there isn’t much left. She moans to Jimin to give the load back.

"Huh... Please–Uuuww"

Jimin then forces Somi's mouth open with her fingers on Somi's cheeks and spits your cum into it. Somi immediately widens her mouth out and gratefully savors the mixture of your cum and Jimin's saliva. After that Jimin lightly slaps on her cheek a couple times with a satisfied smile.

You have fully recovered your erection by now, seeing your two girls snowballing your cum. Without wasting any time you slam Somi’s pussy with your cock from behind. She hasn't still recovered enough to stand yet, so you rear choke her to support her body. As soon as you do that, both of her hands cling on your arms for her dear life, but the careless fucking you're giving her doesn't even let her resist.

It's a dejavù. Somi's choking out again, you are fucking her harshly again, and again she can't even let out any sound—her mouth is agape, but no matter how desperately she tries to scream, no words come out. There’s only one difference this time: she came to you of her own free will.

Slap.

Jimin hits Somi's cheek, only to redden her already blushing face. You release her from your choke and grab on the leash on her neck again. Somi's arms are now on the car in front of her to support her shaking legs.

It is not only her legs that are malfunctioning—her arms, her lungs, her well-fucked brains also are. Nothing but the orgasmic pleasure provided by you is traveling through her whole body, as if even her heart stopped sending blood for the veins to become vessels of the high you are injecting into her body directly.

"Ffff...Ugh-Aaah...!"

She can't even scream fuck. Now her neck gives in as her head falls down on the car with a thud.

Jimin lifts Somi's head and kisses her—it's a one-sided kiss of course, as Somi can't process what's happening to her at all, except your ramming cock.

No matter how hard, how many times you spank her, she can't react. No matter how hard or how many times she cums, she can't fucking stop. You grab a handful of her hair and bring her head next to yours—her back arches wildly. You growl into her ear, through the gritting teeth on her ear.

"I'm cumming, Somi. I'm gonna fucking mark my slave as mine."

"Go ahead, straight into her womb, baby. C'mon."

Jimin pleads you and you finally finish inside her womb. Somi's whole body reacts to your orgasm with violent convulsions.

You have to spend almost half a minute to get yourself back. Then you pull out. You swiftly bring your pants back up and leave Somi there and walk away with Jimin, like nothing ever happened.

"She's great,"

Jimin tells you and you immediately agree with a nod.

"Yeah, you found her first anyway so, good job."

You put your arm around her hip and continue.

"But my number one is still you, baby girl."

"Of course,"

Jimin says like she knows it, walking ahead of you and turning back to you.

"I'll fucking kill that bitch if she even tries to replace me."

She's smiling like it's nothing, but it doesn’t sound like a joke, you know she really means it.

"I know you would, but you won't have to. I just love to see you two sluts get down for me."

You grin at her and Jimin rolls her eyes.

"For your cock."

She corrects you.

"Actually, I think there's more of myself in my cock than in my head."

That earns you a funny giggle from Jimin.

"You're insatiable,"

******

You're on the bus again. You can spot Somi easily, thanks to her height. Seems she somehow managed to look normal enough to present herself in public. Somi keeps looking back as if she's looking for someone. You keep your eyes on her until her eyes find you. She then quickly looks away in shyness, but her bitten lower lip tells you that she's been anticipating this, that she's been wanting this.

Another insatiable girl–

No. You don't even treat her as a 'girl', but rather some object you own—something subordinate to you. An outlet for your predatory instincts. The word "hunting" used before sounds too right.

It's like going back to being a savage, your barbaric inclination to be cruel, brutal, violent and instinctive. And at the same time being medieval—possessive, authoritative, feudal and patriarchal, meanwhile being modern—selfish, stressful and hedonic. An astounding aspect of a simple slut that makes you discover your inner self at every different angle, from side to side.

You know Jimin and Somi love you like that when having sex. They know you deserve their obedience for the perfect sex you provide them with every time. They would willingly die being fucked by you—and you would do it to them without any hesitation. You would even cum on their dead body, but that's too far gone. Maybe you have a weird kink for death or something like that.

The bus stops after several more times and outside is already your destination. You eye Jimin and you get off together. Somi's waiting for you two, and you notice it but pretend to neglect it and walk past her.

"Uhh, m-master…"

Somi follows you and calls you.

The way she calls you sounds so right to your ears, so you turn around simultaneously with Jimin next to you.

"My house is… It's empty now and–..."

Somi can't even look at you. You excitedly watch Somi fidgeting as Jimin directs her to go on.

"And?"

"I was... I was hoping that you would–"

"Ahh, I think I'm too tired for that right now,"

You stretch your arms and yawn, acting as if you're not interested, to draw out the inner animalistic instinct, which will make her more inferior in front of you.

"No no no, you can just... just release your stress and fatigue on me, master. I–I'm here to serve you,"

Jimin smiles it off and hugs your arm while replying to Somi. She's testing the newly found possession quite thoroughly, beginning right from the inside—the outside of it has already been tested out to be flawless enough.

"But he already has me, bitch."

Embarrassed and dumbfounded, Somi's eyes quickly travel between you and Jimin. Her face blushes, her fidgety fingers move lazily on the hem of her uniform shirt, her legs twist against each other, all indicating her thin patience is about be torn apart under the weight of her neediness.

"Ugh… You can use me for your own good, too. Please, I need you to fuck me, slap me, bite me, choke me until I pass out, and anything… Let me be your slave. I need it."

Hearing that, Jimin laughs amused. You too are grimacing at Somi. But not because it's funny or something.

"Dumb fucking slut,"

You say that only because Somi's been wanting it, needing it. Needing you to talk like that to her, treat her like that.

Who's the one that tried to kick me off? Who's the one that shook her head no yesterday?

Well at least now she knows the inevitable power of your cock over her, and obviously she's being overwhelmed by it.

"Alright then, lead the way, Somi."

"Thank you, master."

You still hear the shyness beaming out of her words, but seeing that her horniness toward your cock is even greater you feel very much satisfied.

You soon arrive at her house, and Somi hastily opens the door with the fingerprint of her thumb.

"Wait, register mine."

Somi looks up at you in surprise and stutters.

"Uhh, that's–"

You thought she was a quick learner, but maybe she's just–

"Of course, master. Put any finger you prefer on it please,"

You do so, looking at her working on the door lock.

You and Jimin step inside the familiar house and enter her room.

"Undress."

Jimin gives an order to her—Jimin's enjoying it too, you can surely tell. Not that you blame her for that. Who wouldn't, obviously.

Somi is now naked. Her bare thighs glisten with her juice that is forming up relentlessly, her sizable tits moving in synch with her slow breath.

You undo your necktie, and Jimin gathers hers and Somi's to her hand.

"On the bed."

Somi climbs on it and gets on all fours. You can see her wet lips contract from the anticipation. You bring your necktie with you and get on the bed.

"Give me your arms."

Somi presents them for you to tie them and buries her cheek in the mattress as an alternative support for her body. Half of her face is buried on the bed, but her other side faces up, while her ass is temptingly presented up, over the delicious arc of her back, pleasuring your eyes with quite a view.

Jimin hops on the bed to join you.

"She looks so fucking good,"

She spreads Somi's wetness over her asshole, preparing to drill it with her fingers. At Jimin's touch Somi shivers.

You can see her pussy twitching again at Jimin's rough touches.

"God, she's leaking even more,"

Jimin says, astonished.

"Ahh!!"

Somi screams loud when Jimin's finger enters her rear entrance. Even louder than when you slapped her face.

"What is it?"

You ask Somi, rubbing your cock on her watering pussy lips for lubrication, ready to penetrate.

"Nothing master, it's just... It's my first time doing anal,"

Oh, well. Can't miss this chance.

You directly put the head inside her ass instead, which draws a surprised squeal out of her.

"You know, giving a good first impression is always important,"

"O-okay–Oh my god, aah!"

You grab on her tied arms, put your right foot on her head, then make a rough thrust into her ass, letting your crotch meet her ass skin to skin.

There you start the ruination of her virgin ass. You see discomfort all over Somi's face, but that's to your least care. Besides, that's gonna change soon.

Jimin doesn't stay idle, as her fingers keep diligently working on not letting Somi's pussy empty.

"This is fucking tight,"

Squelching sound from Jimin's fingers and the sound of your hips crashing hers barely leaves room for Somi's moans and screams. You look down to check what's happening beneath your body, and you see Jimin's devilish grin spread as Somi squirts. You put more of your body's weight onto Somi's head like it's a pedal—it is, sort of, because the harder you step on it, the higher Somi's screams get. It's like an accelerator pedal, driving Somi's subby attitude even wilder.

"Wait,"

Jimin's fingers suddenly halt as she focuses on something. You stop and look at her curiously.

"N-no...fuck-"

Somi doesn't want you to stop, so she herself pistons her body on your cock.

"Do you hear it? The buzz?"

You do, but it'd be not like you if you stop here. You continue slamming into Somi's ass.

"Yeah. Can you-can you check who it is for me?"

Jimin walks to the table and picks up Somi's vibrating phone.

"It's a phone call. From heart emoji,"

There's a sudden shade of fear in Somi's dazed eyes.

"What?!"

You angrily look at her and Somi's urgent look makes you even more displeased.

"It's-it's nothing! J-just ignore it, master,"

Jimin brings the phone to you anyway.

"I think he told you to end this,"

Jimin coldly says.

"And I think your answer was yes,"

You answer the call.

"You're fucking dead."

You furiously say to Somi. You turn her head face down on the pillow and push it with your feet hard, suffocating her.

"What? Who is this? Somi?"

You start moving your cock inside her again, at the same time talking on the man over the phone.

"I'm fucking her right now. If you show up again, I'll fucking kill you."

You can feel Somi struggling for air, by her trembling legs and twitch back. You start thrusting even harder than before, pull her head back up with her hair, and bring the phone next to her face.

"Tell him now. Tell him to stay away from you."

"H-hey... I'm sorry to t-tell you but–oh my god fuck...!"

"Somi?! What the fuck is going on?"

You intentionally fuck her when she starts speaking.

Slap.

Jimin catches it and slaps her cheek hard.

"Why do you stop? Bitch, fucking tell him!"

You see tears forming up in her eyes and there you feel another level of ecstasy. You then start to really fuck her ass and she is completely out of words. She opens her mouth to speak but upcoming orgasm blocks her words. Instead she desperately moans to her boyfriend.

"Hey–aah... You have to–fuck, oh my god...! Stay away fr–om me–fr–om–now–on–ho–ly–fu–ck...!"

Her hoarse voice cracks at your every pounding and you see a teardrop of mixed reasons roll down on her red cheek.

"Somi, Somi? Fuck, what are you—"

You end the call and toss her phone aside.

"Fucking dumbass,"

Jimin repositions Somi's head on the pillow face down, again suffocating her.

Her toes curl and her tied arms strain as your cock attacks her ass, almost at the level of breaking its function as an organ of digestive system but to function only as nothing more than a hole for your cock. Your foot again goes back to where it was, on top of her head.

You start your brainless fuck. Somi starts her breathless sex, and Jimin starts a wordless kiss with you. You squeeze her perfect tits and pinch on her nipples. Her mouth curls up sexily, knowing you're close.

"You're about to cum."

You two part away from the kiss, and Jimin gets down to Somi's ass.

"Fuck yeah I am,"

"Cum inside her ass, baby."

You feel Somi's anal walls contract uncontrollably and squirt again. She is cumming, obviously, and you are no longer different. You flood her ass with your seed. Some of it even seeps out of her deadly tight hole. You pull out and Jimin makes it gape to see Somi's dark hole whitened by your thick cum. Somi spins her head left to keep herself alive. But still her eyes don't open, and you of course know why.

Jimin eats your cum out of Somi's ass. Her magical tongue works inside Somi's ass, as if savoring the best cuisine in the world—maybe it is, for her.

Despite Jimin's work, your warmth still remains inside her ass somewhere deep, too deep for Jimin's tongue to reach for. She retreats and Somi limply collapses on the watery bed.

"Remember, Somi,"

You pick her head up with her hair roughly and say right next to her ear.

"You wanted this to happen."

Jimin hands you a cigarette and you take it in deep into your both lungs. You exhale the smoke right into Somi's face, making her cough several times.

"If you don’t break up with him, I will kill him."

Sadness fills Somi's eyes. It's the kind of sadness that makes you feel good. You like it when she suffers. The sadness itself is okay to you, but the reason she's sad—that just fucking pisses you off very bad. How dare she even attempts to keep two relationships at once? Too much for a toy.

"And I fucking mean it."

You pick your garments up for you and put them on, after letting Jimin clean your used dick off with her mouth thoroughly.

Last sip of your cigarette, before you kiss the smoke into Jimin's mouth. Some of it escapes through her nose.

"I enjoyed it,"

Jimin giggles and says.

You are aware, because you could see it. Pushing a poor little slut to a dead end. It's so entertaining for the two of you. Your dick is for sure too good for Somi to taste it just for once. After this she's going to keep wanting it, keep needing it.

"I know you did, Jimin."

You blankly reply, not focusing on what she is saying.

"You know, I didn't cum."

Jimin seductively tells you, bringing your hand to hers. That certainty turns all of your attention to her. Your eyes rise slowly to meet hers, which are gleaming with lust and desire, a submissive one for you.

Please, touch me, her eyes beg.

That's just for a brief moment but enough for you to form a grin and do what she says. You hook your arm under her leg and bring it up, while the other hand rubs on her lips for a few times before exploring the gushing inside.

"Well done holding back, Jimin. Now cum for me."

You start to piston your fingers in a dangerous pace. As soon as your fingers hit her sweet spot, her arms lock around your neck for support, with her face buried in your neck.

"Hmmph, fuck...! Just like that, baby–ah, fff...!"

Jimin's nails and teeth dig into your skin, indicating the intensity of the pistoning of your fingers and ecstatic sensation she's receiving.

"Do you love it? Do you love how my fingers fuck your needy little cunt, you slut?"

Her bites get deeper at your piercing words as if she wants more.

"Hnngh, fuck! I-I fucking love it, baby. You–ah!!"

You yank her hair backwards and kiss her tongue first. Jimin lets you in her mouth, biting on your lower lip sexily.

"Mmmph...! Mmmph!"

She cums.

Jimin cums hard on your fingers with a pouring squirt. Your eyes travel from her cumming core, bouncing tits, her agape, drooling mouth, to her white eyes. They are looking at nothing but the orgasm itself. Satisfied with her bodily reactions, you pull out your fingers, and Jimin stumbles only to be supported by you.

You keep your eyes on hers until they come back. They meet yours and the divine orgasmic smile of Jimin makes you grin in return. Then you bring your soaked hand up for her to taste herself, which Jimin hungrily devour with her swirling tongue, never breaking eye contact with you.

"This is why I fucking love you, gorgeous."

Hearing that Jimin lightly bites on your fingers playfully, earning a small giggle from you.

Yes, you love Yoo Jimin.

But you are not planning to give Somi love. She's only here to be the outlet for the most basic part of your sexual instinct. And for lust to cover for love, there must be plenty. That's what she'll look for, ask for, beg for.

Besides, Somi loves how you treat her during sex, anyway, so...

She'll be already looking forward to the next time.

******

That Sunday, you visit Somi's house to get her ass pounded—who's insatiable now, huh? You open the door with your finger, that's why you registered yours on it. To fuck Somi whenever you want.

You step in and hear a male voice.

This sounds so wrong.

"I think the door just opened, Somi? We're not supposed to be expecting anyone,"

That male voice asks. Then you hear hurried steps toward the door of her room.

You and Somi open the door at the same time.

"Uhh..."

She tries to block your vision, but can't stop the inevitable.

"Who's that, bitch?"

You annoyingly push Somi out of the doorway.

"Who the fuck are–"

The guy stands up but—

Thud.

You whack his face with your fist and he collapses limply in front of you and Somi. No sooner does she follow him on the floor as her legs give in to the fright of vivid menace of death filling up the room.

You squat down to level your face to Somi's. She can't even look at you, full of fear. Seeing that you raise your hand to wipe her tears with your thumb, Somi shrieks but you softly brush her tears off her cheek.

"I won't hurt you, Somi. I'm gonna need to use you quite often anyway,"

You bring her into a seemingly warm hug and continue.

"But this fucker, he doesn't know his place."

Dropping Somi onto the floor carelessly and stepping out of the room, you turn around and throw your words coldly.

"He's a dead man now."

——————

A/N(2): I think I see some phrases teasing what happened beforehand. Which means I might work on another prequel. Thank you so much for reading my humble writing!!

#kpop male reader #kpop x male reader #kpop smut #karina smut #aespa smut #somi smut

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wobblyficwriter · 1 year

Text

I'm posting this from my tablet, and I'm struggling with formatting. Also, this is my first ever fic. Please be gentle, though polite constructive criticism is welcome.

Firefighter Next Door

You cut your hand and bang on your neighbours door in a panic.

Trigger warnings: Blood, injury, anxiety attack.

You bang on your neighbours door frantically, praying he was home. His car was there but you weren't sure when he'd gotten home. You hoped you weren't waking him up just as he'd come home from a shift.

The door opens after a minute and a sleepy looking man stood there with a questioning look on his face.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry! I've woken you up!" You babble in a panic. "I-I should have just taken the bus or cab to urgent care!" You keep talking in your panicked state, not looking up at the man in front of you, but down at your heavily bleeding hand. Just as you're getting to your third round of apologies he speaks over you.

"Hey, hey, it's okay! What can I do for you?" He asks before following your gaze down to your hand. Upon seeing it he reaches down and gently takes your wrist in his hand, bringing it up to inspect it. He quickly invites you in, guiding you to his kitchen table and sitting you down. By this point you're pale and starting to have trouble taking a breath, tears welling in your eyes.

He notices but decides to run and get the first aid kit from the bathroom before calming you down. It takes him less than a minute to return, he places the kit on the table and crouches in front of you.

"Alright" he says as he takes your injured hand in his own after putting on some gloves. "I need you to take a breath. You're having an anxiety attack." He speaks calmly in a soft voice so as not to overwhelm you. "You're okay, breathe with me." He takes a deliberate slow breath, looking you in the eyes as he does. He takes a couple more before you're able to copy him. After you've taken a couple he counts to four, then tells you to hold for a count of four before telling you to breathe out again.

He does this a few more times, and it isn't until you've calmed your breathing that you realise that he's also been cleaning up your hand the whole time. The bleeding seems to have slowed and he was currently inspecting the cut to make sure there was nothing in there.

"How'd this happen?" He was still speaking in that calming voice while he reached with his other hand to grab a dressing and bandage from the kit.

"I was doing the dishes and I dropped a knife…. Then caught it, by the blade.." you looked down at the floor, feeling stupid now that the panic had worn off. "I'm so sorry I banged on your door like that.. I should have just dealt with it myself, I just saw the blood and panicked. I don't drive so I didn't know what to do. I'm so sorry I woke you up for this."

Your speech was getting faster as you went, almost talking yourself into another panic attack.

"Hey, it's okay, I promise. I'm glad you came here rather than pass out on public transport. I'm Eddie, can I get your name?"

You looked up at his face again and saw that he was smiling as he finished wrapping up your hand and securing it.

"Y/n" you mumbled.

"Alright y/n, it's nice to meet you. It doesn't look like you've done too much damage, it should heal up on its own, no stitches, but if you're worried you should head to urgent care to get it looked at. Can I get you something to drink? Coffee, juice, water?" He removed his gloves and started to clear up the gauze and wrappings scattered around the table.

"Just water, please." You spoke quietly, still a little embarrassed. He nodded, tossing the wrappers and gauze in the bin before filling a glass and setting it in front of you.

"Are you okay? Not hurt anywhere else?" You shake your head to let him know you're not hurt anywhere else. He found himself assessing you out of reflex. He sits on the chair beside yours and reaches to your wrist to check your pulse while he watches you breathe. Once he's satisfied that you're no longer panicking, he lets go of your wrist and smiles at you reassuringly.

"Honestly, it really is okay that you knocked on my door. You're welcome to come to me for help anytime. I've not seen you around before, did you just move here?"

You nodded again and took a sip of water before speaking. "Yeah, I moved in last week. I've seen you a few times, firefighter, right?"

He smiles and nods. "Yeah firehouse 118, before that I was a medic in the army, so this really was the perfect door to bang on. How's the hand feeling? I can grab you some Tylenol if it's hurting too much."

You shake your head. "It actually doesn't hurt too much right now, just stings a little."

He nods again. "Yeah, I bet. Look, you're welcome to bang on my door anytime you need help, or even if you just want some company, but… I just came off a 24 hour shift, and if you're okay, I really need some sleep." He says apologetically.

You nod and jump up. "Of course! I'm sorry again for waking you, thank you so much for your help!"

"Don't mention it." He smiles as he walks you to the door. "I can come by later, if you like, to check on you, and maybe lend you an extra hand if you need it? You shouldn't do much with that hand for the next couple of days, you don't want to reopen the cut."

"I'd like that, thank you, Eddie, sweet dreams." You smile and walk off to your own house as he waves and shuts the door. You could get used to having a firefighter as a neighbour.

#eddie díaz #eddie diaz x reader #911 fic #911 fanfic #eddie diaz imagine

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hydrasra · 1 year

Text

these are just some scenarios that came to mind while I was daydreaming. I might post something else in a few days related to my sagau interpretation turned mini fic lmaoo. you can view these as anecdotes of when things happened off screen or something, idk but it's up to you. enjoy!

LATEST SAGAU CHAPTER [HIATUS] : SAFE FOR NOW

SIDE STORY : STRANGE ENCOUNTER

•° M.LIST °• NEXT

lumine: do you always have to be so negative?

wanderer: that's my personality.

lumine: I know but can't you smile at least once?

[name]: if he does smile, it'll mean I'm gonna become rich tomorrow.

lumine:

[name]:

[name]: *looks at lumine*

lumine: *looks at [name]*

both: *nod then look at wanderer*

wanderer: what?

[name]: *tackles him down* GOT HIM!

wanderer: your grace, what are yo-

lumine: *using her hands to make him smile* COME ON, SMILE!!

wanderer: *struggling to get away* I DON'T WANT TO!!

paimon: *watching from the sideline*

nahida: *walks in* hel- what's going on?

paimon: [name] said that they'll become rich if wanderer smiles at least once.

nahida: oh. well, maybe they are right? why didn't you join in?

paimon: don't want wanderer to haunt paimon's dream tonight.

nahida: *giggles* fair.

[name]: *walks through the door, completely dishevelled and bleeding*

cyno: and that's wh- *looks up* [NAME]!! ARE YOU ALRIGHT?

[name]: *blinks, confused* yes?

tighnari: you're bleeding!

lumine: *walks in in the same state*

wanderer: what happened?

paimon: a rishboland tiger.

alhaitham: I'm sorry?

[name]: you're excused.

lumine: *grins and leans onto [name]* they thought that the tiger was friendly. the tiger was, until they stepped on its tail.

paimon: *snickering*

wanderer: wait until buer hears this...

[name]: what the fuck do you mean by 'he's not here'? where does he go and spend his time? he's a fucking bard with too much time on his hands!

jean: *sweatdrops* your gra-

lumine: [name], stop swearing.

[name]: oh, my bad. anyway, where to find that asshole?

lumine: [name].

[name]: sorry, sorry.

jean: *whispers to paimon* is this normal?

paimon: *nods* paimon has grown immune to it all now.

[name]: *sneezes*

albedo: bless you.

[name]: *groans* thank you but how the fuck do you live in this cold?

albedo: that's simply cause I'm not h–

[name]: *wraps their arms around themself* I knoooooow!

lumine: hold on, I'll go find a seelie. *dashes off*

[name]: THANK YOU, LU!!

albedo: *takes off his coat and puts it on [name]'s shoulders*

[name]: thank you, bedo.

klee: you're very beautiful!

[name]: *looking at klee then around* huh?

klee: *giggles* you're very beautiful, your grace!

[name]: *smiles* call me [name] instead, all right? and thank you, klee. *picks her up*

klee: *wraps her arms around [name]'s neck*

[name]: *hugs her tightly*

paimon: *wiping away her tears*

lumine: *sniffles*

kaeya: oh? emotional~?

lumine: shut up, kaeya.

[name]: okay, wild idea.

lumine: *sighs* here we go again.

[name]: what if we visit Inazuma and I wear some sort of disguise?

lumine: *perks up* wait, that's–

wanderer: a very bad idea.

lumine & [name]: bu–

wanderer: no 'but's. the farthest you're allowed to is mondstadt and liyue is out of question.

[name]: *puppy eyes*

wanderer: that's not going to work on me.

[name]: hmph. *pouts*

lumine: you sure it didn't work? 'cause you're red, wanderer.

wanderer: *looking away, blushing wildly* FUCK OFF!!

nahida: why are [name] sulking and alhaitham blushing?

lumine: *hands on her hips* alhaitham told them 'no' to their request.

nahida: he said 'no' to what exactly?

paimon: they asked to give him a kiss.

[name], sulking somewhere: I SAID A KISS ON THE CHEEK!!

alhaitham: t-that's not very a-appropriate, your g-gra–

[name]: THAT'S NOT MY NAME!

lumine: I'll gladly accept your kiss!

[name]: *perks up* BET!

alhaitham: *hiding his face behind his hand*

tighnari: and this is collei.

collei: *hesitating between bowing, kneeling or waving*

paimon: collei!

lumine: hey, collei... are you all right?

collei: I- y-yes! I just-

[name]: no need to bow or kneel before me, it makes me very uncomfortable. a simple wave is enough, and if you're comfortable, a hug is welcomed too.

tighnari: I don't th–

collei: *suddenly hugs [name]*

tighnari: *surprised gibberish*

[name]: *grins and hugs collei back*

lumine: what–

paimon: what the heck–

collei: *hastily pulls away while blushing* t-there! i-i heard that y-you mumbling about wanting to give m-me a hug–

[name]: *nods while smiling* thank you, collei. it must have been hard for you to go out of your comfort zone.

collei: *shaking her head, blushing still* n-not at all!

[name]: holy shit, we're high up! I can see mondstadt from here!

paimon: well, we are at the top of stormterror's lair after all.

jean: don't get too close to the edge, your grace!

[name]: *looks at jean, takes a decisive step towards the edge*

jean: *panicking and speed-walking towards [name]*

lumine: [name], step back. you'll give jean a heart attack.

[name]: *smiles and walks right into jean's embrace*

jean: *confused sigh of relief as she hugs [name] then looks at lumine*

lumine: they will purposely not reply to anyone when their name isn't used.

paimon: *nods rapidly*

[name]: *leaning on the table, staring at cyno*

cyno: what is it?

[name]: are you and tighnari dating?

cyno: *clears his throat*

[name]: *leans back, gasping* OH MY GOD! DOES THAT MEAN YOU WERE CHEATING ON HIM WITH ALBEDO AT THE WINDBLUME FESTIVAL?!

cyno: I did not–

kaveh: *slams the door open* WHO CHEATED ON WHO DURING WHAT?!

cyno: no one–

[name]: CYNO CHEATED ON TIGHNARI DURING THEIR TRIP IN MONDSTADT!!

kaveh: *offended gasps* WHAT IS THIS TREASONOUS ACT?! *looks at cyno, appalled*

[name]: *stands up* I WILL NOT TOLERATE THIS!

kaveh: NEITHER WILL I! LET'S GO, [NAME]!

[name]: HMPH! *grabs onto kaveh's arm and leaves with him*

alhaitham: *hiding behind his book, trying hold in his laughter*

collei: *shaking her head while trying to act disappointed*

tighnari: ... I knew it.

cyno: NOT YOU TOO??

#sagau #genshin x reader #genshin au #genshin impact #sagau genshin #sagau idea #genshin impact x reader

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scullysexual · 3 months

Text

a continuation of this. @today-in-fic

mentions of emotional/physical abuse.

“No, Mommy!” Emily cries, trying to squirm away from Dana’s hand. They are in the bathroom of a Walmart, a wet paper towel sits in Dana’s hand as she attempts to wash the dirt and grime of the past few days from her daughter’s face. The five year old has none of it.

“I have to clean your face, baby,” Dana says quietly. Truthfully, she doesn’t have the energy to fight with Emily today. She was exhausted; the stresses of her living situation catching with her.

Last night they had camped in the parking lot of the Walmart whose bathroom they were currently using. It was another cold night and Dana had barely slept. Despite the overnight parking sign, Dana had still been worried somebody would come along and throw them out even if she deliberately parked in the corner furthest away. That, however, had also come with its own issues: no streetlights. So while one half of her had worried about getting kicked out, the other half worried about getting her car broken into while they slept.

Emily, thankfully, had had no issues falling asleep. It was the daytime she struggled with. Unsimulated, bored, Emily’s tantrums had been getting worse lately. So far Emily had ripped one of her books apart and the corner of her tablet had a crack in it from when Emily had thrown it onto the parking lot’s tarmac. Dana tried not to get angry at her child, she was probably feeling the stress too now.

“Why can’t I go home and have a proper bath?” Emily asks.

Home. Every day Emily asked to go home. Every day Dana told her they couldn’t.

“Home isn’t safe anymore,” Dana tells her again.

“Daddy puts bubbles in my bath and let’s me play with as many ducks as I want.” Emily’s head lifts, almost challenging Dana to compete with her precious daddy. She hears what Emily doesn’t say. You keep me in a car all day and try to wash my face in stinky toilets.

Dana knows this already. She would listen as Ethan bathed Emily hours after a fight, like nothing had happened, meanwhile Dana would clean up the mess left behind.

She doesn’t tell Emily the other things Ethan does or says like how angry he becomes when he drinks or how she and Emily are the reason his life is so shit.

Well, they were out of his life now, Dana wonders if it was going any better for him.

Dana tosses the paper towel into the trashcan. She brushes her teeth and then disappears into the cubical to pee. She gets Emily to sing a song with her so Dana knows she still there and it’s during this time that something catches her eye. A leaflet sticks halfway out of the sanitary bin. Dana yanks it out as the lyrics to Wheels On The Bus trail off from her lips. Emily stops singing, too.

“Mommy, where did you go?” Emily cries.

“I’m still on the toilet, baby,” Dana answers though she is distracted looking at the leaflet. It’s a job ad; some time of nanny agency. Babysitting, Dana thinks. There’s a number on the bottom. An ideal striking, Dana gets off the toilet. When she opens the cubical, the leaflet still in her hand, Emily looks at her with relief.

“You took too long,” she says accusatory.

“I’m sorry,” Dana apologises. She shoves the leaflet into her bag and washes her hands.

“Can we go home now?” Emily asks.

“Soon.” Dana helps Emily off the counter and she takes hold of her hand, leading her out of the bathroom.

…

Dana listens as the phone rings, Finding Nemo plays in the background, Emily’s little laughter escaping her mouth as she watches. The phone rings five times and Dana is sure nobody is going to pick up. She’s about to give up when the ringing stops, there’s a slight pause, and then a woman’s voice rings through.

“Happy Nest Nurseries, Ellie speaking, how can I help?”

The voice on the other end takes Dana back a bit and she stutters slightly before she speaks.

“Hi, um…I’m Dana Scully. I was wondering if you had any positions available?” She bites her lip with trepidation, watching Emily through the rear-view mirror.

Ellie sighs. “I’m sorry, we don’t have any places, right now.” Dana’s heart sinks. Ellie goes quiet again and Dana hears the hustle of the phone being moved. There’s a conversation happening between Ellie and somebody else but Dana can’t quite catch the words. Finally, Ellie’s voice sounds through again.

“Actually, Monica says she might have something. Could you come in today?”

Dana smiles, happy and wide. “Yes! Yes, I can.”

“Great,” says Ellie. “I will see you then.”

They exchanges goodbyes and Dana starts putting the car into gear. The sound of the engine coming to life causes Emily to look up from her tablet.

“Are we going home now?” she asks.

“Not quite. Mommy has somewhere she needs to be.”

…

It’s only when she gets to the offices- the address listed on the leaflet and confirmed during a quick phone call to Ellie again- that Dana realises her appearance doesn’t exactly scream interview ready. She looks as tired as she feels, has aged about 10 years in three days. When she untangles her hair from the hair tie it falls down mattered and greasy, in need of a good wash, her curls in need of a reset (or a pair of straighteners) She finger combs through the ends, yanks out a giant knot with a wince, then reties her hair, this time into a ponytail. Then she pulls open the glove compartment in the hopes of finding a stray lip gloss tube in there. After rummaging around she finds not only the lip gloss but mascara, too, along with that a broken comb, couple of random receipts, a lighter, half a pack of cigarettes, Ethan’s ‘lost’ driver’s license- the memory of the day he lost that forever burned into her mind- and a teething toy from when Emily was a baby. Suffice to say, just about everything was in this glove compartment.

Dana shoves everything put the lip gloss and mascara away, she’ll deal with that junk another day. The uses the sun shield mirror and applies the products, immediately looking and feeling better about herself. She turns to Emily then.

“Emily?”

Emily remains half engrossed still by her tablet. “Hmm?”

“I’m about to speak to some very important people. I need you to be on your best behaviour, okay?”

“Can I bring my tablet?”

Dana sighs. When she was pregnant with Emily she didn’t want to become that parent who handed their child a phone screen to keep them quiet. In fact, she had been very against the idea, upholding it whenever she could. It was Ethan who ruined that one. When Emily was two years old he handed her his phone and it had been that way ever since. It wasn’t the first time Dana tried to implement rules and restrictions that would get thrown out the window by Ethan a few hours later. Bubble baths and unlimited ducks one of them. There was a reason Daddy was the favoured one because he gave whatever Emily wished, Mommy was just mean.

“Yes but you’ll have to put on your headphones.”

Emily pulls the headphones out of her bag and puts them on, forgetting to plug the wire into the tablet. Dana laughs and climbs out, reaching back into the car to unbuckle Emily and plug the wire in. Dana guiding a screen-hypnotised Emily, they both walk into the office building.

…

She meets Ellie at one of the desks. The girl wearily eyes Dana and Emily before smiling that fake customer facing smile.

“Maria will be in her office. Follow me.” And Dana does, following Ellie to the end of the hall. Two knocks and when a voice on the other side of the door bids them entry, Ellie opens it.

“Dana Scully is here to see you,” says Ellie.

“Send her in,” says the voice.

Ellie opens the door wider and Dana walks into the room.

“You can go now, Ellie.” And Ellie does so, closing the door behind her.

The woman- Monica- does a once over of Dana.

“I’m sorry,” Dana says immediately. Between the looks Ellie gave her and now the looks Monica is giving her, she knows she isn’t making a great first impression appearance wise. “I just didn’t intend on coming here today.”

“That’s okay,” says Monica. “Who is this?” she asks with interest and a big smile at the sight of Emily.

“My daughter, Emily—” Emily is oblivious, her eyes still glued to the screen. Dana looks wearily towards the other woman.

“You know, a lot of our clients don’t like giving screens to children,” Monica says in a tone that is gentle but still conveys a certain amount of warning.

“I know. And I don’t usually like it either but she’s so restless, she’d only be pilfering through your stuff, she’s very curious. The screen gives her something to focus on, it keeps her quiet, it…” Dana trails off. She knows she isn’t making much of an effort to defend herself, coming up with excuses here and there. “I just needed her to be quiet for now,” Dana says honestly. “I try to restrict her screen time.” A half lie, she did try when she lived with Ethan.

“Sit,” says Monica. “Let’s have a little chat.”

The woman guides the two of them over to the chairs at her desk. Dana helps Emily onto her seat before sitting down herself. Monica watches, beady eyed. When everyone is settled, Monica speaks.

“I don’t often do this but we’ve had a client seeking a nanny recently,” explains Monica and Dana hangs on to every word. “She’s desperate, almost, and we’re fully booked. Or we were, until you called. Now, we will have to do background checks, make sure you’re legit, it’ll take about three days but if everything comes back clean, which in most cases it does, the job is yours. Would you like it?”

Dana can barely believe it. She smiles brightly and nods.

“Yes, of course.”

Monica smiles back. “Great. Let me get you a form.” She wanders over to a filing cabinet and pulls the top drawer open. Dana takes her chance.

“Um…I wondered if I could also get a proof of employment in those three days as well. I’m hoping to get onto a housing list.”

Monica pauses and sighs. “Unfortunately Dana, you have to pass your probation before we can give you anything like that.”

Dana’s heart sinks once more. “And how long is the probation?”

“Three months.”

Dana gawks. Three months! She can’t live in her car for three months. She looks away, willing herself not to cry.

“I also have to ask what you intend to do with Emily when you’re at work. We’re you intending on taking her along too or do you have somewhere to put her, someone she can stay with?”

“Would she be allowed to come with me?”

Monica sighs again. “It’s not advised. You’re protected under insurance if anything was to happen to you while at the house. Emily, however, would not be. It is a risk.”

Dana looks at Emily then. Who knows what type of person this client could be. She could be risking Emily’s safety taking her with her. But where else could she go? To go back home would mean seeing Ethan. Family is…tricky. Melissa isn’t cut out for caring for a child- not to mention if she’d be in any state to even do so- she hasn’t spoken to her parents since Emily’s fifth birthday and that ended in an argument between her and her father, Ethan’s mother despises her and while she loves Emily she’ll only accept Emily if Ethan is the one dropping her off. There was one last person, the only one who has actually offered any support for Dana in the five years she’s been a mother but she too comes at a risk.

But, depending on hours, a risk Dana was willing to make.

“Yeah,” she says. “I have someone she can stay with.”

“Brilliant,” says Monica. She hands the form to Dana. “Fill this in as quickly as possible.”

…

Diana Fowley is the name of the woman who’s kids she’ll be looking after. Two boys: William who was the same age as Emily and Arthur who was three. Simple. Easy. She can do this.

Diana is a lawyer and, according to Monica, going through a divorce. It’s messy, the father’s contact with the boys is limited to weekends or whatever reason and originally, he was the stay at home dead while she was the breadwinner. Now this divorce has meant Diana has to look at other options.

Dana can’t help but compare this father to Ethan. She could never imagine Ethan as a stay at home parent- that was relegated to her- for pride mostly but also for controlling reasons. If Dana has no income herself then she can never leave, forever dependant on Ethan for a home, for financial support. She wishes she could see his face now. I got a job, Ethan. Turns out I’m not as stupid as you made me think.

Not that she was ever stupid. She has a quarter of a physics degree, had a direct path into medicine. A doctor she was going to be, a heart surgeon of all things. She was Emily’s age when she decided that that was what her career was going to be. She had it all worked out: married at 30, a kid two years later. Only the marriage never came, the kid nine years too early.

Dana doesn’t regret Emily, she doesn’t blame Emily for how her life has turned out. Emily is her entire world, Dana just wishes she hadn’t been 21.

“What do you want to be when you grow up, Emily?” Dana asks as they drive down a suburb.

The tablet is still on, now playing Ratatouille.

“A chef!”

This would be wonderful news if, when Dana asked her a few days ago, Emily hadn’t replied with dentist because she was watching Finding Nemo. She expects her daughter’s answer would’ve been a superhero if she’d been watching The Incredibles. But whatever path her daughter choices, Dana just hopes she’s able to become whatever she wants.

Her stomach twists as the house looms in front of her. Bill’s house she thinks as her hands squeeze the steering wheel. No, Tara’s, Dana corrects. If she stays it’s Tara’s house then it is a lot less daunting.

“Where are we, Mommy?”

“You’re going to spend the day with Auntie Tara, baby.”

Emily recoils.

“I hate Auntie Tara!”

“Emily!” Dana admonishes, spinning around. “You don’t hate anyone. Auntie Tara loves you. She wants to see you.”

Tears come to Emily’s eyes as she furiously shakes her head.

“I don’t want to!” the child cries. “I don’t like Auntie Tara. I want to go home! I want Daddy! Why won’t you let me see Daddy?!”

Dana sighs preparing herself for another Emily tantrum.

“Take me to Daddy!” Emily’s foot kicks the back of Dana’s chair. “I want to see Daddy!” Kick. Daddy. Kick. Daddy. Kick. Daddy.

Dana closes her eyes, focuses on her breath, breathing in and out, in and out. She reopens her eyes.

“Emily,” she says quietly, not rising to her daughter’s level. “I need Tara to look after you today.”

“Why can’t Daddy?”

“Daddy’s busy.”

“But I haven’t seen him in years!”

She reminds herself that it’s only been a week.

“I know and we will see Daddy soon but for now, I need you to go with Auntie Tara until Mommy gets back, okay?”

“Where are you going?”

“I told you, Mommy has to go to work.”

The concept was baffling to the child.

“But you stay at home…” Emily says with a frown.

Dana smiles. “Not anymore. We need to find a house—”

“We have a house- Daddy’s house.”

Dana unbuckles her seatbelt and climbs out of the car. She opens Emily’s door, unbuckles Emily, and kneels down in front of her.

“I need you to listen to me, Emily. Daddy is a bad person. Do you know what a bad person is?”

Emily nods. “They hurt you.”

Dana nods in return. “They do. That’s what Daddy did- he hurt me. He almost hurt you.” She wipes a stray tear from her child’s face. “So I got us out of there. That is why we can’t go back home, we can’t go back to Daddy. I’m gonna get us a new house where nobody can hurt us but I need you to stay with Tara so I can do that. Do you think you can do that?”

Emily pauses, thinking it over hard as if she had any choice in the matter.

“Daddy was shouting and you were crying.” Emily frowns as if trying to remember. “And something hitted my head.”

Dana nods again, tears now coming to her own eyes. She thought maybe Emily would have forgotten that night. Clearly not. “It was a glass cup, baby. Daddy threw a glass cup and it almost hit you.”

Emily’s eyes widen. “Why? Did I do something wrong? Do I make Daddy angry?”

Dana’s heart breaks a million times over, the gravel currently cutting into her knees didn’t hurt as much as this. She gathers Emily into her embrace.

“No, baby girl…” She breaths in her unique Emily scent. “You don’t make anybody angry. Daddy meant to…” She stops herself. Daddy meant to throw it at me she almost says. “He didn’t mean to throw it at you. But it did get you so that’s why we had to leave.”

“Daddy let’s me have bubbles and ducks in the bath.”

Dana smiles despite having nothing to smile about. How difficult to must be to understand that the Daddy who gives Emily bubbles and ducks is the same Daddy who screamed at Mommy, made her cry, and threw a glass cup.

“I’ll tell you what,” Dana proposes, pulling away and looking at Emily once more. “If you stay with Tara now, when we get our new house, you can have all the bubbles and ducks you want.”

“I want a duck bedroom. Painted yellow. With little ducks like Quacky.”

Dana sniffles, giggling through her tears. “You can have that as well. You can have anything you want.”

Emily smiles, tears and tantrums over. Another tear falls from Dana’s own eyes and Emily reaches forward, wiping one away.

“Don’t cry, Mommy. You can have bubbles and ducks, too.”

In that moment, every single thing Dana has endured feels 100% worth it if it meant Emily got to be here. She pulls Emily back into a hug.

“I love you, baby girl. So, so much.”

“I love you, too, Mommy.”

Dana presses little kisses all over Emily face until the child laughs and squirms away. Then she stands and Emily resumes watching her movie. Dana knocks on Tara’s front door.

#the x-files #the x files #txf fic #xfiles fanfiction #scullysexualwrites

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gaybananabread · 1 year

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hey! i saw your craig and tweek piece, and i loved it ahah, i was wondering if you write for south park, and if u do can we get ler! craig and lee! tweek?? like if tweek is struggling with his anxiety and craig cheers him up. if not its all good, hope u have a good day/night, take care of yourself ^^

Damn, this was a throwback. Been awhile since I've done anything South Park, hope you enjoy!

Ler: Craig

Lee: Tweek

Summary: Tweek's anxiety was rampant, his nerves completely shot. Craig helps him calm down, and have a good laugh.

Warnings: swearing (of course). This is a tickle fic, so if you don't like that, scroll away!

He couldn't belive it. His parents, his legal guardians, left him home alone for the week. True, he was 16, but that's a lot of responsibility! He could forget to lock the doors, someone could break in, steal his families prized possessions, and then the house is on fire! On top of all that, he still had school!

He stumbled through getting ready, his shirt-buttoning skills even worse than usual. Tweek didn't even bother with his hair, knowing the comb would do more harm than good. He didn't see the time, and almost missed his bus.

Craig's day was pretty average. His family were their normal level of assholes, annoying but manageable. When he saw Tweek before school, he knew it would be a long day. The blonde was crawling in his skin, flinching at every noise, and jittering like he had seven expresso shots. While that was probably true, he needed help to wind down. Lucky for him, Craig's got a plan.

...

School was over, along with Tweek's composure. He was on the verge of a breakdown when Craig walked over to him. "Hey, I'm coming over your house." No room for argument or overthinking. The boy flinched away, nervously laughing. "Hehe, sure, w-why not? It's not like a millLIONn things can g-go wrOng!" Craig clapped his shoulder, guiding him to the bus. The driver didn't care enough to question why a new kid jumped on.

The ride was quiet, aside from the tapping of Tweek's foot. Craig put his headphones on, listening to music. He sat his hand on the blonde's leg, trying to ground him. It sort of worked, but he was still a nervous wreck.

When they arrived at his house, Tweek fumbled with the keys, dropping them a few times. Craig helped, holding his hand and guiding the keys in. They tossed their bags in a closet and sat on the couch, deciding to watch a movie. At least, they tried.

"What about Jurassic Park ?" Tweek shook his head, going on a rant. "No! Th-those movies have a lot of nOIse, what if someone thinks w-we're in trouble and calls the COPS!" Craig rolled his eyes, moving past the fifth shot-down idea. This is getting old.

He grabbed Tweek's shoulders and pinned him to the couch, looking him dead in the eyes. "Dude, CHILL OUT! I know you've got some issues, but this is getting outta hand." He poked his stomach, trying to get his point across. What he didn't expect was the squeak he got.

"Damn, I forgot how ticklish you are." Tweek blushed, trying to hide his face.This is perfect! What better way to let go than with laughter! He pinned his hands beneath his knees, getting a better grip. Tweek twisted and pulled, but he was trapped.

"H-hey! Craig, this is so stuhuEEehehehehe!" Craig wasted no times, skittering his fingers across Tweek's belly. His poorly buttoned shirt allowed Craig's fingers to slip in and get his bare stomach. For once, the dumb buttons helped him. "CrahaHAIG! QUIHIHIT ihihit!"

The beanied-bastard felt like teasing. "Nah, you're waaaay too cute like this." Tweek just hid his face in his shoulder, trying to hide the rosy blush on his face. Craig moved his hand up, finding a sweet spo/ bear the top of his ribs. Tweek's giggles turned into laughter, the tickles getting five times worse. "Man, this must really tickle, huh? Sucks to be you right now."

Tweek was conflicted. He was enjoying himself, but Craig was super flustering! The tickles felt amazing, distracting him from his anxious thoughts. However, the teases were turning his brain to mush! "QUHIHIHIT TEHEASING MEHEHEHE!" Craig just rolled his eyes.

"Tickles come at a price. No teases, no tickles." Tweek whined through his laughter, shaking his head. He tugged at his hands, but they were very much stuck. He was starting to get tired.

Craig saw this, and leaned down. He was so close that his breath tickled Tweek's ear. "I'm gonna do one more thing. Buckle up, Jitters." He whipped upwards, lifted Tweek's shirt, and blew a huge raspberry on his poor belly. He burst out laughing, bucking his hips. "CRAHAHAHAHAHAIG! IHIHIT'S SO BAHAHAHAD!"

He blew a few smaller ones, skittering his fingers up and down Tweek's sides. After a few seconds of this awesomeness torment, he let up, climbing off of Tweek. The boy immediately curled into a ball, laughing off the ghost sensations on his torso. He kicked Craig's leg, getting a poke to the side.

"Ihi'm tired. W-wanna wahatch Frozen?" Craig laughed, turning on the movie. Tweek snuggled up next to him, pulling a blanket over them. Within the first half hour, they were both asleep, smiles on their faces.

#south park #lee!tweek #ler!craig #ticklish!tweek #creek tickles #south park tickle #sp creek #sp tickle #sfw tickling community #tickle fic #tickle #sp tweek #sp craig #tweek tweek #craig boone

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fullcry · 1 year

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Update (sort of)

I WILL get around to posting a proper update schedule soon. I'm in the process of trying to get my Patreon page up and running, so hopefully I'll be able to get those two things going concurrently.

Tentatively, updates will probably be in this order: Truth of Memory, Ch 4 (final chapter) > Either "Jacket Fic" longshot or untitled NSFW multichap Ch 1/4 > Love and Peace and Gunsmoke, Ch 2

A note about my Love and Peace and Gunsmoke: part of why an update may be a ways off is... I lost chapter five. 5k words of the hardest stuff to write: difficult conversations, character development, action scenes, multiple locations... I still haven't recovered. The prospect of rewriting it all is DAUNTING. And I need to finish it before I can go back and edit chapters 2-4, since it's the end of the first arc and needs to align properly for the next. So... thank you for your patience while I'm on the struggle bus.

Speaking of the untitled NSFW multichap, please have a WIP sneak peek because I'm hopeless and need to vent excitement. Be sure to subscribe to my AO3 pseud for updates! (because there will be a lot this year, RIP my free time)

UNTITLED NSFW VASH/MERYL WIP EXCERPT (below the cut!)

She had spent the long hours in that room thinking and preparing herself for the eventuality—told herself it was just sex, just a bodily function (albeit an intimate one). She’d spent long enough keeping her feelings for him hidden, and this was just an extension of that. It didn’t need to mean anything more and didn’t need to change their relationship. And at the end… she’d still felt that way. She’d been ready to move on, keep laughing, keep smiling, put the incident in a box and continue being just friends.

She hadn’t been prepared for this, though—this cold shoulder, this painful distance—and she feels unconscionably foolish for not having considered his feelings, for not having considered that just because it needed to happen didn’t mean he was prepared.

Though she isn’t quite sure what specifically his feelings on the matter are since he hasn’t said a word about what happened and pointedly ignored her attempts to do so.

She sighs and trails dutifully behind him. They’ve long since left the dormitories behind, for which she is thankful, and he leads her through a series of dark maintenance tunnels. Like the main hallways these too are lit by emergency lights but given the narrowness of the tunnels and the array of pipes and wires and panels along the wall hiding the light strip from view, it’s significantly dimmer. They move single file and her hands trail along walls on either side for support—the grate upon which they walk is uneven in places, seeming to have bent with the force of the crash.

She can see the brighter light of a hallway ahead and sighs in relief, matching Vash’s quickening pace. But before they get out, her hand snags on something sharp and she jerks it back, hissing. She can feel blood seeping into her glove, trailing down her wrist. Pain pulses sharply along her index finger, and she knows its a deep cut.

“Are you alright?”

Now he talks to her. She refrains from saying something snappy and unkind, and instead says, “Yeah—just a cut. Can you grab some gauze from my pack?”

She turns around to give him access to the bag strapped to her back and holds her finger tightly to stem some of the blood flow. She hears the zipper and can feel him rummaging around, and a moment later he taps her shoulder. She turns back around and pulls her hand away from her finger to take the roll of gauze but he ignores her, reaching for her hand instead. She lets him, holding her breath and watching with surprise as gently disinfects the wound and holds her by the palm as he wraps three layers around the cut, tying it off gently. He still doesn’t look at her.

“Vash—“ she begins, more insistent this time.

“Not… not here,” he says, and she can hear in his voice that just saying those words is an emotional effort. It’s clear he knows what she wants to bring up, and she feels some relief that he has finally acknowledged what happened, even if indirectly.

“When we get back to ship three?” she asks, or rather, requests. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, gently releasing her hand as he tucks the roll of gauze into a jacket pocket. Then, he nods, and turns back around, heading for the hallway.

#VashMeryl #Vash x Meryl #Mash #Trigun #Trigun Stampede #TriMax #TriStamp #FanFiction #Trigun Fanfiction #Update

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daenysthedreamersblog · 27 days

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how ml! just wanted check in and see how you're doing <3

hi! i am alright ive been really down/depressed/tired/anxious about random sheit (mostly my job and my mother bc she sucks 🥲 ) its just been causing me to find little pleasure in things and makes me unproductive but im trying to get back to things i enjoy :) like writing!

ngl ive had huge writers block with this peacekeeper fic... i have the last half and most of the beginning but i cant seem to figure out how to get from point A to B while maintaining consistent characterization and pacing so its been a struggle bus and discouraging and then i feel like i cant write anything else bc ive devoted myself to this one thing until its finished 👎🏻

but we're getting there i think im figuring it out slowly but surely 🤍 and soon ill be back on my zoloft so that will help 😂😂

thank u for asking love u bestie 🤎

#daenysthedreamersblog

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taomyou · 6 months

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The Romance of Reimbursements - Chapter 11

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Reader Status: COMPLETED Summary: There’s a guy you see every Friday on bus 143, and you think he’s pretty hot. It wouldn’t hurt to tell your best friend about him, would it? or, you and Levi take the same bus home from work every Friday, and you fall in love slowly, clumsily, and with all the time in the world to fold as many paper stars as your heart desires. Word Count: 6.7k Tags: slow burn, friends to lovers, modern au, office au, fluff, romance, meet-cute, matchmaking (A/N: this fic is entirely available on ao3 here if you would like to read it there instead!) Chapter Navigation Accompanying Playlist

lemon glaze

After all these years of baking, you’ve perfected the art of giving sweets.

You’re decent enough at figuring out the rest.

Well, actually, that’s just you being humble. Baking has never been particularly hard for you, though that may just be attributed to the fact that you can’t remember how much you struggled with it as a kid.

On Sunday after you finished with all your household chores, you were sat at your dining table yet again; this time with a tin of earl grey tea leaves under your finger as you spun it next to you. You scrolled through a variety of websites, trying to track the baking properties of earl grey until you got your answer, and you got to work with more than enough time in the kitchen.

Before you did start any baking, though, you made yourself a small cup of the tea to try it out yourself.

You’re not surprised that you hate it. You enjoy bitter tea every now and again, and sometimes honey is enough to make the difference in you loving or hating a particular blend, but this was just too bitter for you. Maybe you’re just brewing it wrong because you’ve never tried earl grey before, but the taste makes you want to hurl.

But if Levi likes things bitter enough for Erwin to bring it up when he asked you for tea in your office all that time ago, then this is perfect for him.

You’ll probably be able to at least bake out some of its overwhelming bitterness. Or not, and maybe it’s your selfishness in wanting him to enjoy something you make for him whilst not being tempted to share with others (and that’s counterintuitive in its own way, considering you’re sharing the fruits of your labor by giving them to him, but you’ll probably make something for his housemates as a courtesy to them anyway).

After a couple of hours of careful measuring and baking and other kitchen processes, you ended up with a relatively small batch of earl grey shortbread cookies and an accompanying lemon glaze. It isn't perfect, but you were happy enough with both components (and Sunday was just for testing anyway).

And back to the fun part: doing everything else.

You very easily could’ve just asked Levi to meet up to exchange things, but you’re entirely sure that he wouldn’t accept it if you were to outright say you wanted to repay him for looking out for you (and that he would say he’s not doing anything special for you worth thanks).

Things are the same for the most part for the following days: you go to work, make time to talk to your friends, and you try your best to not stay up too late worrying about all the paperwork waiting for you the following day.

The ride home on Friday on bus 143 goes as smoothly as last week’s Thursday ride, with both you and Levi talking about work, your respective colleagues, and anything interesting that happened throughout the week. It isn’t tense and it most certainly isn’t boring, so you’re content as you watch the scenery go by as the two of you talk to one another.

The only difference in this week is that every night, once you’re finished with dinner, you let yourself forget about anything and everything to get to working on that shortbread.

You write things in your recipe book as you go, erasing and refilling information as you correct it as the days go on, and you groan when you accidentally swipe flour on the pages (which happens far too often). You stand over your kitchen counter every night with some shortbread laid out in front of you and a myriad of cellophane wrappers and twist ties to choose from, and you have fun trying to figure out what looks best and how you can package them up.

Ordinarily, you would have used Hange as your test subject for something like this, but they don’t like tea-flavored things and you also don’t want to run the risk of them piecing together that you’re planning to give these to Levi because they'd somehow find a way to make it weird.

So instead, starting Tuesday, you bring small cellophane bags with you to work to offer some of your coworkers as you walk in the office. Throughout the week, you have a carousel of people coming through your office to tell you that they enjoy the treats (and that you should try using oranges instead of lemons for the glaze, so you take a small detour on Wednesday’s ride home to pick some up).

You planned on being careful not to let Erwin see, but he’s suspiciously gone for the majority of the week, so you don’t have to sneak around him.

You're careful asking for Levi's address, not really remembering the route he took from his place to yours, and you decide to ask Isabel over the phone.

You tell her that it's because Erwin asked you to deliver Levi a copy of some documents, and she buys your lie pretty easily when you tell her that Erwin's (practically) your boss. There's not really any conceivable reason as to why Erwin would need to send Levi anything when their two fields of work definitely do not overlap, but she doesn't ask any questions. You're surprised that she doesn't, having already prepared to elaborate on the lie, but you're thankful that she happily recites her (and Levi's) address back to you and makes you promise to come to visit again soon (which you'll fulfill sooner than she probably imagines).

It feels like a project—putting so much effort into this exchange. You suppose that the act just hasn’t lost its magic yet.

As you do all of this, you let yourself relish in the simple joy of baking and packing. It isn’t lost on you that this is (admittedly) a lot to do just as a simple act of thanks for someone that you’ve only, just a few days ago, begun to truly see as a friend, but you’ve been through this same process a near thousand times already with coworkers’ birthdays, holidays, and practically every other occasion you can make time for, so you reason that it just feels normal for you to do this.

Come the weekend, you get up with a small skip in your step. After you have breakfast, you get in the kitchen again. Save for the fact that the sun now shines in through your windows, it’s the same as the last couple of days: you make the dough, make the glazes, and so on and so forth. You also go ahead and make some egg tarts for Furlan and Isabel to take with you, too, and you let your TV fill the apartment with white noise as you get that going.

Once everything’s done, you give the glaze time to harden on the shortbread and let the egg tarts cool. After you get all the kitchenware washed and dried, you idly scrub your workspace as you scroll on your phone. Once that's all done, you decide to put on a video essay you've already seen a million times as you get yourself seated at your dining table with all the cellophane wrappers and shortbread in front of you, and you're mindful to keep the lemon-glazed and orange-glazed shortbread in separate spaces so you can mark them differently later. You get those all neatly put in their wrappings before you get up to repeat the same thing on your kitchen countertop.

After washing your hands of any crumbs, you go to your drawer to get those same star tags you used last time to loop onto your twist ties, and you're careful not to bend them when you bend the plastic around the openings of the cellophane. The orange-glazed treats get a twist tie that's, well, orange, and the lemon ones get a tie that's yellow, and the egg tarts get the same iridescent ties you put on the ones you made at Hange's.

You neatly pack everything into paper boxes that you picked up when you got those oranges earlier in the week, and then you put those boxes into a fairly large paper bag. You don't bother saving any for yourself, having already eaten what feels like a lifetime of earl grey shortbread already in the last couple of days, but you're sure it tastes fine.

Levi can probably make better use of the remaining tea than you can, so after you get yourself cleaned up and dressed in something other than flour-spotted pajamas, you make sure to slip the silver tin into your purse before you head out the door.

✰

You're sure that you only did this as thanks to Levi (and, in smaller part, to give yourself something to distract you from work).

There's no ulterior motive to this. You just simply want to give him these sweets as a kind gesture. You're grateful he talked to Erwin to at least help ease a bit of the work you've been continuously bombarded with, and you just decided that this would be the most fun use of your free time. No part of this exchange is fueled by any desire to bring Levi closer to you or to satisfy any urge you have to validate the worth of your friendship.

It's just a friendly visit-slash-drop-off, just as you would do for Hange on their birthday or for your parents' on Mother's Day weekend. You do this all the time, this isn't any different at all.

So why is it, then, that when you find yourself at Levi's doorstep on Saturday at 4:07 PM, you can't bring yourself to ring the doorbell?

There is definitely no reason for you to be too shy to ring a fucking doorbell. It's just a button that makes noise. You probably won't even hear it when you press it, assuming that the sound will only resonate inside the house itself. Looking back at the driveway, you see Levi's car and another one that you assume is either Isabel's or Furlan's, so you know that they're home. You can't be nervous that there's nobody there to take the desserts off your hands.

You’re probably just nervous because you don’t know enough about Levi to be sure he'll like it.

Yeah, that sounds about right.

You're scared that he's going to be a huge critic and knock your ego down a couple notches, or that he'll just secretly resent you and your baking for the rest of time because the shortbread isn't good enough for him.

Before you can chicken out again, you press the doorbell with your knuckle, and soon enough, you hear the sound of the door opening, and you're suddenly met with Furlan.

"Oh, hey," he greets. A toothbrush is between his lips, so his voice is somewhat muffled. "What brings you here?"

You feel frozen for a second, but you reanimate yourself to switch hands carrying the bag. At the movement, Furlan's eyes flicker down at it.

"Just dropping some things off."

He brings his hand back up to his toothbrush, nodding. He moves aside and holds the door with his foot. "You're welcome to come in," he tells you.

You shake your head. "It's okay, I don't mean to intrude."

He waves you off, a smile tugging at his lips. "Nah, there's nothing to intrude in on."

Looking past him and into the house, you don't see or hear neither Levi nor Isabel. You look back at Furlan, and you awkwardly speak up. "You look... busy," referring to him brushing his teeth.

He laughs, lips tight to make sure no toothpaste escapes. "I just got up from a nap, but I promise, nothing to interrupt here. Besides," he leans a bit forward to look inside the bag, "I'm kinda nosy, and I wanna see what's inside."

You concede and silently follow him inside after you take your shoes off at the door. After leading you to the kitchen area, he excuses himself to go to the bathroom to finish brushing his teeth.

You awkwardly set down your purse and the bag at the dining table and sit down before looking around. You were consumed in conversation the last time you were here and you didn't get a great look at everything, so you take a minute to just absorb the layout.

The living room has a TV, two couches that look like they came together in a set, and a bookshelf. Nothing quite extravagant, but it looks simple. Clean.

Speaking of clean, the whole house looks spick-and-span. The lazy sun that comes in through the windows doesn't show any dust, and the floor looks like it's been polished enough to let you see your reflection in it.

The kitchen looks really modern, and it tempts you to come explore it when your eyes land on the smart fridge, but you're too shy to actually go and take a closer look.

Though, you do see the canister of dandelion root tea you gave Levi all that while ago, just barely sticking out among the other unassuming tea blends that line the countertop.

The house is quite spacious from what you can see, with the kitchen and living room area being well decorated to help fill the space. Not like an interior designer was hired or anything, but it's charming that there's a couple of photos hanging up on the walls and some artwork here and there. You try not to let your gaze linger on any one particular photo because it feels too invasive to look that closely at it, but it warms your heart when you catch quick looks at younger versions of what looks like the three housemates.

You opted out of having a roommate for much of your higher education so you can't quite relate to the feeling of living with friends, but you imagine that it's a great deal of fun.

Furlan comes back, this time without a toothbrush, and he yawns as he walks over to the kitchen.

"Want anything to drink?"

Looking back over at the countertop, you decide against a tea. It'd take a while to brew anyway, and Levi's not there for you to ask if it's okay for you to use any of his (assuming they're his). "Water's good."

He gets two mugs from the cupboard, and he idly hums a tune you don't recognize as he goes to the fridge to get a pitcher of water to pour for you.

Remembering that you saw Levi's car in the driveway, you ask him. "Is Levi not home?"

"He's on a conference call in his office. I could probably fake-kidnap him on the call and get him to leave, if you wanted to see him."

You chuckle, shaking your head. "No, that's fine. I merely come bearing gifts." You don't want to assume that Levi's ever brought you or your interactions with him up in conversation with Furlan, so you don't tell him this is more-or-less repayment for gestures he doesn't know about.

Furlan sits across from you, bringing over the mugs for you and him and then propping his head up with his hand as he takes a sip.

"Just for him or for all of us?" Furlan asks.

And this is where you thank yourself for having the mind to think of making egg tarts for Furlan and Isabel.

"I have stuff for everyone," you tell him. You awkwardly reach for the handles of the bag and move to place it on the ground. You probably should've just done that in the first place, now that you're thinking about it.

You take the boxes out of the bag and put them on the table one at a time. As you take them out, you crack open the lids a bit to see what's inside before reaching over the table to hand Furlan one with just egg tarts in it. When he opens the box, you turn away and take a sip of your water to avoid seeing his reaction.

Not that you think it'd be bad, it's just a bit embarrassing since you know he likes your baking. You let the compliments and thanks go over your head as he gives them, too awkward to fully absorb anything he's saying, but you're still thankful that he's appreciative and you make sure he knows that.

You open the other boxes to him as well, showing him all the tea-flavored shortbread you brought with you. You don't say that it's pretty much just for Levi, but you think he gets the message when you tell him that it's made with tea and that you're a bit nervous that Levi won't like it. Furlan makes sure to smooth away any of your concern, promising that he and Isabel will still find a way to enjoy them if Levi won't, and your nerves settle as you laugh and thank him.

He offers to help you put everything in the fridge, and you take him up on that so you don't have to awkwardly stand in front of the fridge and try to figure out where to move things.

You check the boxes again, folding either the right or left corner flaps to let you know what's inside. You quickly grab a marker from your purse, and you label the boxes in neat handwriting. You tell him to make sure the writing faces outwards in the refrigerator, and he laughs when you hand him a box simply labelled "eggs" before he makes the short trip over to put it away. You take the rest of what's left at the table when you finish labelling and bring it over to Furlan, who takes them from you to stack them neatly inside the fridge.

He steps away to let you look at everything, and you give him a thumbs-up with a smile.

You thank him for his help, and when he closes the doors, you stare at the fridge's smart screen for a while, watching as the various screen prompts get flipped through.

He laughs at you good-naturedly. "You can mess around with it, if you want."

"You sure?" You look over at him, and he hums.

"Yeah, here."

He taps the screen and pulls up a different layout with a bunch of different apps. You swipe through a bit before settling on the drawing pad, and you doodle in an orange, an egg, and a lemon (the orange and egg with smiley faces, and the lemon with an overexaggerated frown). You respectively write in Isabel, Furlan, and Levi's names under them, and you sign the drawing in the corner with your nickname and a small star.

"Why am I the egg?" Furlan asks.

"To be honest, it was the last one left after I assigned the other two."

He hums, leaning closer to look at it. "Well, you aren't wrong about Levi's. He is pretty sour."

"What? I couldn't just make him the lemon because he's bright and sunny?"

He puts the back of his hand to his forehead, sighing dramatically. "Of course! Why didn't I think of that?"

You jokingly roll your eyes. "But yeah, he does look like he's eating a lemon sometimes."

"Why's Isabel the orange then?"

Without much thought, you figured that Isabel was the orange because she was sweet, but you realize that it doesn't make much sense since oranges aren't always sweet.

"I met her at the flower shop, and I was thinking of orange blossoms," is the lie you come up with to tell him. Well, it's not a complete lie, but he doesn't need to know you momentarily forgot that oranges are capable of being sour. He's convinced enough, though, and he nods with a slight smile.

"Makes sense. I like eggs anyway, so I don't mind," he says.

"Eggs are nice." You raise your hand up again to erase the screen, but you're interrupted when Furlan tuts next to you.

"You better not be erasing that."

"Why not?"

"Isabel would be so mad at me if I got rid of a drawing of her as an orange!"

You laugh. "Alright." The fridge timer then beeps, and it tells you that it's now 5 PM. "I guess that's my cue to leave."

"Oh, actually, I meant to ask last time, but I thought we'd already bothered you enough then. How do you heat up the egg tarts? They get all soggy if I microwave them," Furlan says.

"I could write it down for you, if that's easier than remembering?"

He nods enthusiastically, the smile on his face growing. "Yeah, that'd be great!"

You grab your purse on the way to the bookshelf that Furlan leads you to, and he holds out a cup full of pens for you to choose from. You take a random one, and Furlan then hands you a blank piece of paper and a hardcover book for you to write on. You thank him and write out the directions as detailed as you can, but with the paper already in hand, you feel so inclined to write something to Levi to properly thank him. Not that you don't think using a whole week to make sweets isn't enough of an effort to show that, but you still, for whatever reason, want him to know that you really are glad that he's been a good friend to you.

"Actually, could I get another piece of paper?"

✰

Okay, maybe you haven't gotten good enough at this.

What were you thinking?

You're sure Levi's already tired enough of having to pick up your trash, but it all just kind of happens before you can stop it. You can barely even remember it happening.

You folded up the long-side edge of the second paper Furlan gave you, and you wrote a short message along the strip before tearing it off and looping it onto itself.

You didn't write much, and the message just barely fills out the strip of paper: Thank you for looking out for me! Enjoy the tea and sweets ^^

Instead of tucking in the tail end of the strip, however, you looped it through and leave it hanging out of the main body of the star with the words "open me" written on it. It kind of looks like a shooting star, at least to you. You pinch the corner, and you're on your way.

You think that, in the moment, you reasoned with yourself that this is normal for you to do. Making stars comes to you just as easily as breathing does. Your heart doesn't race as you write out your thanks to him, and your fingers don't tremble when you fold the paper onto itself.

You don't think to consider leaving it to Furlan to give to Levi after, even though you don't think he'd even dare open the star in the first place. You don't know why, but some part of you is just nagging at you to let at least this exchange be directly from you to Levi. You walk over to the kitchen to put the tin of earl grey you brought with you on the counter and then put the paper shooting star next to it, and you tell Furlan to have Levi look at his teas when he's free. Furlan's gotten started on dinner for the household and invites you to stay, but you feel that you've already overstayed your welcome so you decline and say goodbye before leaving.

It isn't so much that you regret doing it, but the smaller act of leaving the star somehow opens up your mind to all the ways the entire gesture can be misunderstood.

On the drive home, the same nervousness you felt when you were first at Levi's door hits you again, and you have to fight off the feeling just enough to not lose focus on the road. On the walk up to your apartment, you keep your head down and try your best not to bring attention to yourself.

Holy shit, you're cringing just thinking about it.

When you get home, you set down your purse at the dining table before flopping onto your couch. Your face burns red in embarrassment, and you scream into the cushions as loud as you can (and apartment rules permitting).

You're not completely blind to it—the connotation that comes with making food for someone. You know that lovers exchange things like cakes, and that children nowadays still give their crush chocolates on Valentine's Day. Still, you don't ever let this bother you when you make things for your friends and other loved ones. Some people are weird about it and accuse you of having ulterior romantic motives, but you've never let that bother you before. Fuck, you even play along with it sometimes for fun.

But for some reason, this feels different.

You're still sure that this isn't about anything other than wanting to repay him in your own way. It's just that, in retrospect, there's too many ways to interpret the gesture, and you weren't able to talk to him directly to read his expression. You're afraid of all the possible ways he could react: with disgust, with annoyance, with indifference, but you're also afraid that he'll think you're just doing all of this to get his attention. You're aware it's juvenile to have put so much effort into everyone. Not that he would know the effort put into perfecting the recipe, but even when you disregard that, there's probably a lot to be picked apart.

He doesn't know you and how you do these kinds of things; there's no way for him to understand that you doing this is completely platonic and that you do this for everyone.

At the same time, though, it stings you a bit to think of that possibility—of him thinking he's not special because you do this for everyone.

Wait, why do you even need him to know that?

You don't owe him any explanation of what you do because you're sure of your own intentions. If he wants to take it wrong, there's nothing you can do to stop it.

He's not special. You don't need to be considerate enough to say otherwise. He just... is a reliable friend, and you enjoy spending time with him, just like you do with all your other friends.

You groan as you roll over onto your back and stumble over to the bathroom to splash water on your face. It's kind of funny, how the effect Levi has on you has changed so much in the past few months. Instead of being red in the face because he's so handsome (not that that's even changed), your face is on fire because you're too nervous about giving him some fucking cookies. You pat your cheeks down with the backs of your hand to calm yourself down, and eventually, you're back to normal.

You go to the dining table to get your phone from your purse, and you bring it with you into the kitchen. You turn it on as you open your fridge, and you're not surprised to see that it's past 6 already. Might as well get started on dinner and try to figure out how to sort out your thoughts. You set your phone down at the countertop behind you and push things around in your fridge, looking for ingredients you can put together to make a decently healthy meal, but before you can do that, you hear your phone ring. You lean away from the fridge and wipe off the slight condensation from your hands before you pick up your phone, but you nearly drop it again when you see Levi's name on the screen.

Already?

You fumble as you try to get the phone back in your grip, but by then, the call has gone through already. You hesitate in calling back, but you decide that it's better than the other option of leaving him unattended on the other end of the line. You unlock your phone and call him back, bringing the device up to your ear. You lean onto the countertop to steady yourself, and you let out a shaky breath as you wait for him to pick up. You hear the beep telling you he's there.

"Hello?"

"Hi."

"Did you need anything?"

"Yeah. How do I open this thing?"

"Open what?" Paper boxes aren't hard to open, right? Are you missing something?

"The star, idiot." Right, that makes more sense.

"Uh..." You try your best to visualize what the star looks like so you can tell him, but you're still a bit flustered. "How are you holding it?"

"Between my fingers."

You pause, thinking again how to explain it. "You can make it into a pentagon. Like, keep it between your fingers and flatten it with your other hand."

He doesn't say anything, but you hear what you assume is him putting his phone down to free up his hands. After a couple of seconds, he speaks up again. "Okay."

"If you push the end of the paper into the center, you should be able to pull it through the hole." Another pause. "You got it?"

"Yeah."

"You can just unwrap it, then."

You can hear the faint rustling of paper, and he clears his throat. You're scared he's going to read it back aloud to you, but he doesn't. You're not sure if you should speak up and interrupt if he's still reading it (or if he's done with that already and throwing the paper slip away), but he clears his throat again.

"You don't have to thank me for that."

You feel the nervousness come back, and it beckons you to explain yourself, but you decide against it.

"I wanted to," is what you settle for saying. There's more silence until you hear Furlan's voice cut in.

"Levi, go look at the fridge!"

"Why?"

"Just go look!"

You can practically see Levi rolling his eyes, but you hear a bit of movement when you assume he gets up to look.

"Why the fuck am I a lemon?"

"Oh, come on! It looks just like you!"

" Did you draw this?" The question is probably directed at you, seeing as his voice comes in as closer to the mic of his phone.

"Yeah, sorry about that."

There's another pause and some more shuffling, and you get a text notification so you pull your phone away from your ear to look. Clicking on it, you see that Levi's sent you a picture of him flipping off the doodle on his fridge. You laugh at it, and you shake your head.

You hear the sound of the fridge opening, and then silence. "I can't accept all this."

You don't really know what to say to that, but luckily Furlan cuts in again. "If you don't want them, I'll eat them!"

"No the fuck you aren't." You hear Levi close the fridge. You still don't really know what you're meant to say, so Levi continues. "But, seriously, this is a lot,"

"Sorry.."

He sighs from the other end. "Fuck, I didn't mean it like that."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Thank you for bringing these over."

"Of course."

Even with the reassurance, you still can't fully shake off your nerves this time, but you hope that they'll settle as the night goes on. Neither of you say anything, but you imagine he's feeling just as awkward as you are, so you nod slowly, not that he can even see you anyway. You finally move away from the counter to go back to figuring out what to eat, and you clear your throat.

"Well, I should get started on dinner."

"Right."

"Take care, yeah?"

"You too."

You hear the end dial tone, and you sigh, holding on tightly to the handle of your refrigerator when you go to open it. Your mind is foggy as you dig through your fridge, and you just accept that you're the biggest loser in the tristate area. You put on a video essay as you cook in a half-assed attempt to distract yourself. It works well enough and you don't think of anything related to Levi for all of dinner, but you know you'll be bothered by it again later. You take a shower after dinner, focused on getting clean and making sure you don't still smell like cooking oil, and you slip on your pajamas before taking your phone with you to bed.

You yawn, scrolling through random SNS, and then you get a text from Isabel. You want to ignore it, but you were already clicking on the search bar when you got the text, so it automatically brings you over to the messages app.

Isabel - 10:28 PM

Hey!! This is Furlan on Isabel's phone

Well, you're already here and you have read receipts on, so you might as well answer now.

You - 10:28 PM

hi! what's up?

Instead of seeing three dots, you get a photo sent to you. You can't quite tell what it is, so you blink a few times to refocus your eyes and look closer.

It's a horizontal selfie of Isabel and Furlan on their living room's couch, but they're very clearly not the focus of the photo because the tops of their heads are just barely in frame. Instead, the focus is on Levi who's at the dining table behind them. The distance makes things a bit blurry, but it looks like he has one of the boxes you brought over earlier in front of him while he's looking at something on his laptop. He has a teacup raised up to his lips, too.

Isabel - 10:30 PM

Levi won't let me and Isabel have any shortbread so you should tell him to share >:(

Does that mean he likes it?

You - 10:31 PM

i'm sure he'll get tired of it soon enough and you guys can steal the rest

Isabel - 10:32 PM

I doubt it He's super picky about his sweets so he'd def stop eating if he didn't love it

All your worries melt immediately, and you let yourself laugh. You really were worried for nothing, huh.

You - 10:32 PM

if i tell him to share then he'll know you told on him

Isabel - 10:33 PM

We don't care!! we just wanna try some T~T

You sarcastically roll your eyes, but you call Levi. He picks up immediately, and you can hear both Isabel and Furlan laughing from their place on the couch.

"Hello?"

"Your roommates told me to tell you to share the shortbread with them," you say.

He groans. "Of course they fucking did."

You laugh, shaking your head. "I'm glad you like it, though."

"Yeah. It pairs nicely with the tea."

You take that as him saying he likes both things, so you hum. "That's good." You aren't sure if there's anything else for you to say, considering you had no real reason to call other than to entertain Isabel and Furlan, but you remember that you took a picture of the finalized recipe before you left the house earlier. "Did you want a copy of the recipe?"

"If you don't mind."

You pull your phone away from your ear and put the call on speaker, and you tap around to get the picture sent to him.

"No need to gatekeep, then, since you can just make more later," you say.

"Not happening. They can wait for me to feed them the worse version when I try to make these later."

You giggle, and you roll over onto your back.

It's kind of endearing that he likes the shortbread enough to be adamant about having it to himself. You did good putting as much effort as you did into the gesture.

"I'm sure yours will be just fine."

"You are severely overestimating how good I am at this shit."

You roll your eyes. "Yeah, sure."

You pull up the picture that Furlan and Isabel sent you earlier, and you save it to your phone. Looking at it again, it does look like he's doing some kind of work, so you decide it's about time to end the call to leave him to finish that before it gets too late.

"Well, it's getting pretty late, so I'll hang up."

"Thank you, again. I appreciate it."

"Yeah, don't mention it."

"Goodnight, then."

"Goodnight!"

When you hang up, you switch over to the messages app to text back Isabel's phone.

You - 10:37 PM

you heard the man

Isabel - 10:37 PM

NOOOOOOOOOO :(

✰

The weekend comes and goes, and soon you're back at work, humming as you brew your tea for the day.

The week continues the same as every other one before it: you still want to bang your head into the wall when Mikasa brings you your paperwork for the day, you still crack corny jokes with your friends, and your clients still frustrate you beyond belief. On that front, nothing's changed.

Come Friday, you don't expect anything new to happen either.

You manage to get out at your regular time, and your walk to the bus stop isn't anything special. You scan your bus pass and greet the driver just as you do everyday, and you wave at Levi when you see him sitting at the same spot. You ask him how his week was as you're sitting down and readjusting your briefcase on your lap, but instead of getting an answer from him, you hear him unzip the outer pocket of his backpack.

Looking over at him, you see that he's holding a small box of tea out to you. You take the box from him, and you turn it to read the labels. The citrus blend looks good, and it isn't one that you've tried before.

"What's this for?" You ask.

He looks away from you, readjusting his own backpack so that it's comfortably on him. "It's for you."

You blink. "What?"

"Did I stutter? It's yours."

"I heard you the first time, but what's the occasion?"

"To pay you back for the shortbread and tea."

You shake your head, but you look back at the box. "You don't have to give this to me. Me giving those to you was so I could pay you back."

He scoffs. "Just fucking take it."

Squinting to read the smaller text at the bottom of the front label, you see that it doesn't have caffeine. He remembered?

You smile, leaning over slightly to bump shoulders with him playfully. "Are we just stuck doing this back-and-forth forever?"

He doesn't say anything so you think you'll have to apologize and clarify that the question is meant to be a light-hearted joke, but before you can open your mouth, he speaks up.

"I'm fine with that."

You thank him for the tea and you put it in your briefcase, space permitting, and you ask him again how his week was. He answers this time, and you listen as he talks about his various run-ins with people, and you try your best to follow along as he explains architectural concepts you don't quite understand.

He asks you the same when he's done, and you talk about the mundane, ordinary things you have to do everyday in the office before your conversation gets cut off by the bus announcing it's stop at Rose. You tell him to get home safe, he does the same, and you wave goodbye as he gets up for the exit.

The first thing you do when you get to your apartment unit (after taking your shoes off, of course) is get your kettle started, and you lean on your countertop as you reread the brewing instructions on the box. Nothing revolutionary. You just have to steep it for a couple minutes, and you're good to go. You pour yourself a cup of hot water, put in one of the tea bags, and you take that with you to the dining table to add some honey.

After you add in enough to get rid of some of its overwhelming sourness, you have a perfectly warm and sweet cup of citrus tea in front of you.

And after you take a few sips from your cup, you smile to yourself as you take out your phone to start looking up new tea blends to get the next time you go grocery shopping.

✰

Next Chapter

#attack on titan #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #tao.levi #levi aot #levi ackerman #levi #the romance of reimbursements #fanfiction

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