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hyunsvngs · 8 months

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𝐛𝐨𝐥𝐝 - college au american footballers!lee minho & han jisung x cheerleader!fem!reader

wc: 14.3k

cw: some boy x boy action, mc is inexperienced but a secret perv, mc is dumb and forgets what polyamory is, subsequent polyamorous relationship, reader is described to be smaller than minsung, smoking weed, getting drunk, hyunlix are menaces, SMUT MDNI.

synopsis: you’re not too experienced in the world of dating, parties and talking to people, but these two american footballers that you cheer for just seem to get it.

a/n: SORRY :D! as usual, smut warnings under the cut :3

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: making out when drunk, spit kink (a lot of it), cumplay, making out with cum involved, rimming (m rec), boys kissing, anal fingering (m&f rec), oral (m&f rec), threesome, handjob, A LOT OF DIRTY TALK, minho’s mean but affectionate, painplay, degradation, slight? humiliation, breeding kink, pet names: jagi, baby, kitty, gorgeous

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Throughout high school, and everything that came before it, you were never into sports. You were the girl that got shouted at by the rest of the team in P.E because you’d flinch as soon as the ball came near you. You had a sick note every lesson towards the end of high school. You’d walk the mile instead of run. You just weren’t cut out for physical activity.

It was the same reason you’d been so unpopular in school. Popularity went to the athletes, the girls who were svelte and toned, and although your mother would swear you were beautiful, you never had much luck making friends or getting boyfriends growing up.

Of course, when you came to university, you chose a non-bodily exhausting major. Fine art was a fair bet for you since you’d always been good at drawing, and you decided you could go for something you were skilled at so you could still enjoy the university experience. It was a win win. Then, you’d surprisingly befriended Hyunjin, an ethereal man with the beauty of a model out of a magazine - and then came along Felix, his other best friend who studied computer science. They’d actually helped you lose your virginity with your first - and thus far, only - one night stand. Although the experience was less than enjoyable, more awkward, you were still thankful.

It was a month later that they told you they were both cheerleaders for the American football team. You grinned and said how cool it was. They’d asked you to join. You said no. They were popular, too - always going to parties and events, and you considered that would be your fate if you joined. It was terrifying. This went on for the rest of your first year. The trauma from high school P.E lessons prevented you from even considering it, even while they told you that it wasn’t really that tiring. Cheering was still a sport, and that’s what kept you back from joining.

Until you finally gave in.

“I don’t know, isn’t the skirt a bit… Too short?” You mumbled. You stood in front of the full-length mirror in Hyunjin’s room, letting Felix fiddle with your hair and slide a red and white bow on it. It matched the rest of your uniform, a bright crimson mixed with a more subtle ivory. It was your university’s colours, and the same colours the American football players would wear. Felix was behind you and Hyunjin stood beside you - both in their matching uniforms, skirts and all.

Felix looked like he was about to ascend with the happiness on his face. You felt like you could die from the anxiety.

“It’s meant to be short, darling,” Hyunjin quipped, smoothing down the pleats on your skirt. “You need to look so good for tonight.”

You squeaked. Felix rolled his eyes, glaring at Hyunjin. He’d given away the secret. “What’s tonight?”

Felix sighed. His face appeared next to you in the mirror, half of his hair pulled up with a bow matching yours. His hands stroked down your shoulders with a soft smile, as if he was scared to release this information unto you. You stared at his button nose, covered in freckles, too anxious to look into his eyes. “So… there’s an initiation when you join. Sort of a ritual, it happens every year with the new recruits.”

Hyunjin was now sprawled on his bed, hands fiddling with some rolling papers. A baggie of weed was on his lap, over his pleated skirt. You grimaced at the audacity, despite knowing you were inevitably going to ask for some.

“It’s a party,” Hyunjin said, sprinkling weed into the paper. “It’s nothing terrifying. Just that the new recruits have to all be handcuffed to a member of the football team, and they have to play Truth or Dare to be set free.”

“Well, I just won’t play then,” You decided, nodding your head at the reflection in the mirror. Felix bit his lip, staring at you. Hyunjin’s movements paused. “… What is it?”

“We already nominated you. There’s an uneven number of recruits, too, so… you’re handcuffed to two.”

“Two?! No, you’re both deranged. It’s not happening.” Hyunjin simply raised an eyebrow at your words.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

It was definitely happening. That much was clear when you all arrived at the party, adequately stoned and just as tipsy from your pregaming at Hyunjin’s. You were fiddling with your skirt, trying to pull it down just a bit lower, but Felix slapped your hand away with a playful glare. Felix pushed the door open and entered as if he owned the place. The location of the party was some massive house on campus, full to the brim of sweaty, gyrating bodies in different sports uniforms. You were out of your depth.

Felix and Hyunjin noticed your awkward demeanour almost immediately and dragged you into the kitchen. Once he’d found a bottle of alcohol, Hyunjin poured all three of you vodka shots each to drink. He was hoping it would get you out of your shell, a wistful smile on his plump lips.

You grimaced as the burn hit your throat, nose scrunched. Felix giggled, and then he spun you around, hands on your waist. “Okay, so. We’re going to steal this bottle of vodka, take it into the living room, then you get handcuffed to your American footballers of choice.”

You blinked. “Choice? Who chose?”

“Jihyo,” Hyunjin replied, appearing on your other side. He handed you a plastic cup full of a strange coloured concoction before pushing his long, dark hair out of his eyes.

You knew Jihyo, actually. She was the captain of the cheerleading team and had been nothing but lovely to you since you joined. She’d even saved you the embarrassment of auditioning in front of the vice captain, letting you just cheer in front of her alone with the routine Felix and Hyunjin drilled into you. You hoped she’d be lenient on who she chose for you tonight.

Letting yourself be dragged into the living room by Hyunjin, you clutched your cup to ensure you didn’t spill it with the jostling. It tasted bad, but you drank it anyway, ignoring the taste. It would cure your anxiety - or at least act like a placebo effect.

The living room was even more crowded than the hallway and the kitchen. It had you on edge, fingers quivering around your cup despite Hyunjin and Felix hanging off of your either arm. These were the exact types of parties you hadn’t been invited to in high school, and now you were there. Honestly? It was kind of underwhelming, despite the amount of people.

“Okay, it’s time to meet your two footballers!” Felix sounded excited, almost bouncing. When you turned to him, Hyunjin was standing on his other side with blushing cheeks and a just as excited smile. You sighed. This was going to be awkward. There was a circle of footballers and cheerleaders sitting around in a circle, an empty bottle being spun around and landing on whoever was going to be asked truth or dare. The other new recruits were already handcuffed - oh, no. Were you late?

“You’re late!” Jihyo shrieked, shooting up from her spot on the floor. That answered your question. Her skirt was just as short as yours, which made you feel better. She wore it as if it was meant for her, though. You knew you just looked weird. She flicked her short, dark red hair out of her face before pointing at two males in the circle. “You’re partnered with Jisung and Minho.”

“Who?” You whispered, before Felix giggled loudly.

“Jihyo, that’s evil. Not those two! Especially not Minho!” Felix yelled, making your jaw drop.

You were suddenly very intimidated. You already were, but now the guy you were forced to be handcuffed to was, well… you’d have to ask. “Oh, no. Is he nasty?”

Jihyo shrugged, a smile playing on her lips. “Ask him yourself.”

All of a sudden, you were being pushed down by Jihyo into the large, uneven circle of people into the gap between the two football players. You could literally feel your hands sweating and just hoped to God that the two boys beside you couldn’t feel it. Felix and Hyunjin had moved to the opposite end of the room, not part of the circle but still monitoring the situation. Jihyo kneeled in front of you, fiddling with two sets of handcuffs until they were successfully attached to both of your wrists.

It was time to bite the bullet. You looked to your left as Jihyo was attaching the other end of your handcuffs to one of the football players. You were met with feline-like eyes, plump lips and broad shoulders appearing even broader with the shoulder pads from his uniform. His eyes flitted to you and he looked to be holding back a grin. Were you that ridiculous? The guy was beautiful. It made you feel slightly insecure even just sitting next to him.

Turning to your right, you saw your other assigned football player. You were met with softer features this time - round, chocolate brown eyes and a doll-like mouth, surrounded by the cutest pouty cheeks. Unlike the first guy, this one raised his spare hand with a little ‘hello!’ and you smiled, waving back. He was cute when he smiled at you, his teeth gleaming in the low light. He seemed friendly, so you introduced yourself.

“Hi! I’m Jisung, that one on your other side is Minho. He’s kinda grumpy, but he means well,” Jisung told you, making you giggle. Minho tried to reach over you to swat Jisung, but the handcuffs prohibited his movements. “Damn! Okay, okay, he’s not grumpy.”

“I’m really nice,” Minho said, smiling softly at you. You took a mental note of his cute bunny teeth. “I’m definitely not grumpy. Not to pretty girls, anyway.”

You could literally feel yourself blushing.

“Um, okay,” You blurted. Jisung choked on a laugh. “So, what’s the rules of this whole thing? How do I get set free?”

“You have to drink every time you refuse to answer a question or do a dare. Once you’ve answered five questions or when you’ve done five dares, we get set free,” When you turned to Jisung upon him speaking, it seemed like his face was closer. You blushed. His hair was long but pushed relatively back, and his red and white uniform looked to be cinched around a very slender waist. He was fucking hot. It had you imagining - would they both fuck you if you asked? At the same time? They seemed to come as a package deal. “It’s super simple. I bet it’ll only take, like, an hour.”

“An hour?!” An hour of being locked up to these two sexy men. You’d die.

“Yep,” Jihyo chirped. When she spun the bottle, sitting on the other end of it to you, it landed on you as if she’d planned it. You groaned. Jisung was pouring extra vodka into your cup. “Okay, truth or dare?”

Truth seemed the safest. “Truth.”

“Do you think anyone in this room is sexy?”

A giggle brought your attention to Hyunjin, legs splayed over another football player. You thought it was Chan, one of the Aussies that Felix was close with. “She obviously thinks I’m hot. I mean, everyone does.”

“Hyunjin, shut up,” Minho said, but he sounded fond. Interesting. So your best friends knew these sexy ass guys, and didn’t introduce you to them. How selfish.

“I’m going to have to drink, unfortunately. I don’t really want to make it awkward..” You mumbled, taking a large gulp from your cup. Unfortunately, Jisung had poured vodka in it and nothing else, so you grimaced as the burn travelled down your throat. Jisung giggled again from beside you. Evil. He was evil. “Jisung!”

Jisung only laughed louder, refilling your drink after the massive amount you’d downed. Minho, however, was still staring at you with an unreadable look.

“Really?” He questioned. “You won’t even admit it?”

You blushed. “I-“

“Leave her alone, Lee Minho! If she wants to drink, she can drink,” Felix shouted to your defence. You gave him a smile, very thankful. You didn’t want to be interrogated by the exact person you found sexy. Well, one of the two.

Unfortunately, the rest of the game went quite similar to the first round. You’d be asked a personal question, or told to do a dare that was definitely too unruly for you, and then you’d drink. Always drinking the straight vodka that Jisung gave you had an impact, too - before you knew it, you were slurring your words and your head was fuzzy with the effects of being tipsy. Jisung was laughing at you, just as drunk, and Minho was looking between you two with an amused expression.

Minho being a tease was another thing you managed to work out. You grumbled at one point, yanking on the handcuffs. “Jihyo, can I be let out now? I’ve drunk more than anyone else and ‘m tipsy, please!”

Minho chuckled, inching closer to you. “You don’t wanna be attached to me anymore? That’s a shame.”

“Never said that,” You mumbled, making your own cheeks blush as you looked at your hands. On your opposite side, Jisung was just as tipsy as you and looked to be giggling at something Felix had said. All of the other recruits were free and had left, but there you were - still looking dumb sat cross legged in your little cheerleader skirt.

“Bestie, should we take you and Hyunnie home? I’m sure you can set her free now, Jihyo,” Your eyes flitted to Felix, and then to Hyunjin, utterly stoned next to him. His eyes were a hue of red and he had a permanent smile on his face. He needed food, and then sleep.

Jihyo nodded hesitantly in response to Felix, and with a swift move, she undid your shackles. You were more than thankful to be free, but - oh. You didn’t want to go. You were kind of having fun drinking with Minho and Jisung. They were easy on the eyes, and all.

“I don’t wanna go!” You whined. “Can I stay? Minho and Jisung will look after me, right?” You knew you were slurring your words, but the way Jisung slung an arm around you made you feel content. Minho even laughed, shaking his head in a fond manner.

“We’ll look after her if she wants to keep drinking, Lixie,” Minho said, his tone hushed. “You know we won’t do anything weird.”

Felix shrugged. “I trust you both. Okay, have her back safe later! I’m gonna carry this lug to get food. Jihyo, you coming?”

When the rest of the room left, you suddenly realised that you were left with Minho and Jisung. You’d only met them that night, and in all honesty - it was kind of awkward now that it was just the three of you. Clearly you were the only one feeling the awkwardness, though. Minho stretched out leisurely like a cat, and Jisung was already in pursuit of a few ciders he found in the corner.

“So, my vote is that me and you wind down with a few ciders, and then Minho rolls us a joint,” Jisung chirped, settling in closer to you. “I’m so buzzed right now, I’m having such a good time. Hey, why have I never seen you around before? You’re friends with Lix and Hyunjin.”

“Ah, parties aren’t really my whole thing. I’m… I’m not very good with lots of people in one place, to be honest,” You felt like you were admitting way too much, too quickly, but Jisung nodded in agreement.

“I’m the same. It’s a bitch, but I’m glad you joined cheerleading. You can knock back vodka like a pro! Even Minho thought so,” Jisung points at Minho. He’d been quiet until now, but the tips of his ears burned a tell-tale crimson.

“It was quite impressive, I have to admit,” Minho nodded. “What made you join cheerleading? Sorry about the twenty-one questions, but you didn’t answer any during the game.”

“Yeah. That’s to do with the whole ‘not good at talking to people’ thing, y’know? But… Now that it’s just the three of us, I think that I’m okay,” You gushed, words slightly slurring together. The two footballers nodded their heads understandingly anyway, Jisung handing you an opened cider. You took the drink gratefully, sipping on the bitter apple taste. “Hyunjin and Felix convinced me to join, to answer your question. I wasn’t a big sports person in school.”

“Same here. I used to do boxing, but never football,” Minho leaned back on his hands, legs stretched out in front of him. Jisung still sat cross-legged, much closer to you than Minho was. “I only really took up football in my senior year of high school, because I knew I wanted to come here and they have a pretty good football team.”

You nodded, humming. “What about you, Jisung?”

“I’ve always played,” He swigged back a large amount of cider. His fingers played with a loose thread on his uniform top nervously, until Minho swatted his hand away. Jisung giggled, then carried on talking. “Me and my elder brother play. It’s kind of a family thing, I suppose. Hey, Minho, what’s the status of that joint?”

Minho groaned, stretching his arms above his head. “My weed’s in our room,” Minho’s eyes flickered between you and Jisung, and then he bit his lip. Bunny teeth dug into plush skin, and you found your eyes settled directly on it. Minho soothed the bite with his tongue, and then he nodded decisively. “Do you wanna come up and get high, watch a movie with us? No funny business, I promise.”

You shrugged. The alcohol had made you considerably less shy. “Why not? I chill with Felix and Hyunjin like this a lot, it’s all good.”

“Yay! You’re actually going to roll one?” Jisung looked elated, grinning at Minho. Minho sighed, standing up.

“Why don’t you just roll one yourself, Ji?” You elbowed Jisung playfully. You had no idea where the nickname came from, but Jisung pouted anyway at your statement.

“I can’t roll. I’m so bad at it. Do you roll?”

You tried to suppress a smile, but it was impossible around these two. “No. Hyunjin rolls for me.”

“God! You’re both like weed princesses. Like pillow princesses, but with weed,” Minho’s fake-insult made you and Jisung fall about in a fit of giggles. “C’mon. I may have something that you can wear, so that you’re more comfortable.”

You and Jisung stumbled up the stairs behind Minho, still giggling when you arrived at their room. It was bigger than you expected, two twin beds pushed apart with one side of the room reasonably clean. You assumed that was Minho’s, because the other side contained an unmade bed and rap artist posters that just screamed Jisung’s energy to you. There was quite a large TV situated in the middle of the room, between the two beds and pushed against the wall.

“Are we pushing the beds together?” Jisung asked, as if this was a normal occurrence. Minho hummed dismissively, starting to dig through one of his drawers. Jisung started moving the beds in front of the TV just as Minho pulled out a decent looking t-shirt and shorts, passing them to you.

“You can change in here, we’ll turn around. I’ve gotta roll us a joint anyway,” You nodded at Minho’s words. You watched as Minho walked over to the desk, back facing you and you wiggled out of your uniform. You had to remember to bring that home the next day - it was the first game tomorrow.

It hit you that you were in the shared room of two boys you’d met for the first time that night. Jisung was laid on the bed solemnly with his eyes shut so he couldn’t see you, and Minho was facing away while he rolled the joint. They were respectful, but nonetheless this was so, so out of character for you - you were even putting one of their t-shirts on while you were having an internal breakdown. Weirdly, you trusted them. They were open, friendly with you from the get go.

“I never do stuff like this,” You admitted, blushing. When you finally turned around, now fully clothed, Jisung was only in pyjama bottoms. You had to avoid the urge to freak out because where was he hiding that body? He was broad but lean, the hint of abdominal muscles on his tummy. He was sexy, and his waist was just as slender as you thought. You shrugged it off anyway, and Minho turned to face you, licking the joint. That almost also caused an internal freak out, because why is he keeping eye contact while he’s licking it like that?

“Like what?” Minho mumbled, staring at his work of art.

“I’m normally first to leave the party. I never stay late and chill with people in their homes. I’m just… not like that.”

“I get it,” Jisung agreed, shifting on the bed sheets. He patted a space next to him and you climbed onto the makeshift double bed obediently, laying down with your hands folded over your tummy. “It’s the people thing, right? But, you’re being bold. We’re about to get high. The most important thing is… are you having fun?”

Were you? God, you were. Two attractive men were about to smoke weed with you, one of your all time favourite pastimes to get rid of your anxiety, and you were going to chill and watch a movie too. That’s your top idea of fun. You found yourself smiling, nodding up at Jisung, to which he smiled back. He understood.

When you finally turned away from Jisung after a second too long, Minho had changed too, into some grey shorts and a t-shirt. You stared at his thighs while he cracked open a window, and then he was on the bed in front of you.

“The guest of honour should light the joint,” He mused, handing it to you. “It’s the rules.”

“Um.. I need an ashtray. Is it really okay to smoke in here, like-“

“Everyone in this house smokes in their rooms,” Jisung comforted you. After that, he was handing you a small transparent dish. “Ash it in here. We’ll deal with it tomorrow.”

The first inhale of the joint was delicious. You much preferred being high and open minded than drunk and open minded - it was more fun that way. You tended to just brush things off with a laugh rather than overthink them. After a few tokes, you passed it to Minho, and he asked the most important question.

“What film should we watch?” Jisung looked at you. You looked at Jisung, and then you were both looking at Minho. Minho sighed, exhaling smoke in your direction. “You’re both going to make me choose.”

“Yup!” Jisung chirped, snatching the joint out of Minho’s hand. Minho grumbled, displeased but still smiling as he reached for the remote. Within a few minutes, he’d clicked on some random comedy film on Netflix. The joint was passed around until the room was sufficiently hazy and all three of you were laying on the bed, you in the middle.

You felt a little trapped, but not in a claustrophobic sense. The boys were so, so close to you, and even though you three were all relaxed and laughing at the film, the secret pervert inside of you couldn’t help but rear its head. You could make out with them right now. You won’t, but you could. It’d be way too bold for you to do that, and-

“We should make out,” Jisung’s voice cut through the giggles. Minho swatted him, still laughing but chiding as if Jisung was a child. You, however, were wide-eyed.

“M-Make out?”

“Making out is better when you’re high,” Minho explained, his cheeks blazing red from the effects of the weed. “He always asks me to make out too.”

You blinked. Your eyes flitted between the two men, Jisung still gazing at you. “You two..?”

“We make out all the time. Sometimes we fuck, no strings attached. It’s fun,” Jisung said, shifting on the bed so that he was closer to you. “You wanna make out?”

Could you? You’d been extremely bold, and that was even further than bold. You couldn’t lie and say you hadn’t been thinking of it all night, though, and if Hyunjin and Felix could see you now, they’d be so proud.

You answered Jisung’s question by grabbing his head, one hand on the back of it and yanking him down to kiss you. He squeaked in surprise, but he was quick to let his tongue press into your mouth, pouty lips wet against yours. He was half-laying on top of you, the position a little awkward but God, he was right. It felt so much better making out with someone when you were high. You let your tongue press against his, the kiss more of a sloppy exchange than a real, precise kiss.

You pulled away with a wet noise, humming. “‘S better, you were right.”

“Yeah?” Jisung asked, his eyes trained on your lips. “Again, then?”

“Yeah.” This time, he was initiating the kiss, his hands going to your waist. His touch was light, but you squirmed to feel more of his hands on top of you. You wanted more, especially when his teeth lightly nipped on your bottom lip and his lips sucked your tongue into his mouth. It was filthy, and it had something burning in your gut in the most delicious way.

“You two look fucking amazing,” Minho. You’d kind of forgotten he was there. When you pulled away again, you turned, staring at him. His eyes were dark and his cute teeth were biting into his bottom lip again, looking pillowy and plush.

“Min,” You murmured, grabbing his hand. Jisung let out a puff of air, amused. “C’mere. I wanna kiss you too.”

“You sure?” Minho asked, but he was already moving from his place on the pillows to where you were, just a bit further down. Jisung moved off of you, obediently letting Minho take his place. Minho’s hand came up to your face, one thumb swiping along your bottom lip. It was still wet from Jisung’s mouth. “I’m not going to fuck you. You’ve had too much to drink, and smoke… But I’ll make out with you, is that okay?”

“Mm, yeah. This is super bold for me,” You giggled. In the same breath, you took Minho’s thumb into your mouth. You sucked on it, just a soft suction, but Minho still sighed deeply, eyes trained on your mouth.

“I think you’re sexy when you’re bold. You’re cute otherwise, too,” Jisung chimed in, making you smile. Before you could answer, Minho was leaning down, his dark hair tickling your forehead as he pressed his tongue into your mouth. He was more calculated than Jisung, his hand that was on your face previously now enveloped in your hair, pulling the strands just a little. It made you whine against his mouth, squirming, and he replied with a bite to your lip. “Is it good? He’s a good kisser, isn’t he?”

You hummed, still pulling Minho in for more. His shoulders were shaking as if he wanted to laugh at how eager you were, but he continued with kissing you filthily instead. When you started to squirm again, he pulled away, his thumb pulling your bottom lip down instead.

“I think you need a little more,” He mused, nose still brushing against yours. His eyes were enrapturing, as if they held a thousand secrets behind them. You wanted to know more about him, and more about the cute Jisung who was just as anxious as you. Could you be greedy and have them both?

“I want more,” You agreed, nodding. Minho hummed, and then he was collecting spit in his mouth. He let it drop into yours, and you heard Jisung whine, before he was shimmying back towards you. He gently pushed Minho out of the way, and you kept Minho’s spit on your tongue as if you knew what Jisung wanted to do.

“Oh my God, ‘s so hot,” You heard Jisung mumble, before he was pressing his lips against yours again. You felt him lick the collected spit out of your mouth, before he was pushing his own onto your tongue. He sucked your tongue again, whining into the kiss. You could feel something moving on the bed, and eventually, you worked out it was Jisung pushing his hips into the mattress impatiently. When he pulled away, his lips went to your neck instantly, sucking a deep red mark into your collarbone.

“Sungie,” Minho mumbled. “You need to calm down. She’s drunk a lot tonight. Maybe another time, yeah?”

Jisung looked at Minho with stars in his eyes. You nodded, hands gripping Jisung’s biceps. His skin was delicate, honey-toned and muscly, showing the effects of the sport he played. He was fucking sexy. You wanted Minho to be shirtless too. “Another time,” You agreed. “I want you both another time. Can I…? Is that too much, I-”

“We want you too,” Jisung turned to you, his forehead pressed against yours. Now that he was closer again, you let your legs spread, welcoming him to press against you. He was hard, solid in his cute pyjama bottoms, and you wanted to whine. “We want to have you. But, tonight isn’t the best idea. You may regret it.”

“I’d never regret it-”

“Gorgeous girl,” Minho cooed at you, soft as he pressed a kiss into your hairline. They were both enveloping you, warm, soft bodies that were just as toned as they were delicate. Your heart rate was so fast you were convinced you could die. “Gorgeous fucking girl. We’ll take you another time, yeah? Not tonight. You can sleep tonight.”

All of a sudden, sleep sounded amazing. You let yourself hum in agreement, and Jisung moved off of you, curling around your side. “‘M actually quite sleepy, yeah.”

“Thought so,” Minho chuckled, sidling up to your other side. He let you wiggle closer, head on his chest, and Jisung followed you, his chest pressed up against your back. It was comfortable, cosy on the two beds pushed together. “Go to sleep, gorgeous. We’ll be here when you wake up, okay?”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You woke up delirious. You could feel your head pulsating with the beginning of a hangover, and you were just so confused - where were you?

It only took one look at Jisung, lips parted and soft snores coming from his chest to remind you. Oh, yeah. You looked towards your other side, seeing Minho stretched out and full, heavy breaths reverberating around the room from his deep slumber. You’d made out with them both. You didn’t feel any regret, either. You’d done something that was so unusual for you, and it had worked out brilliantly. You’d had the best time.

You knew you’d be embarrassed when they woke up, though. You managed to detangle yourself from the two boys, wiggling out of the makeshift bed and finding your uniform quite easily. You’d tried to make as little noise as possible, but the sound of sheets rustling from the bed caught your attention.

“You’re leaving?” Minho. You turned around, blinking at him. He looked almost insecure, leaning up on his hands and tilting his head at you in question. “Do you… regret what happened?”

Shaking your head quickly, you moved back to the bed. You let one hand caress his cheek and he leaned into the touch, eyes soft and bleary from sleep. “I don’t regret it at all, Min. I had the best time. I just… I need to get home, and see Hyunnie and Lix, you know? But, um…” You felt awkward, anxious again. One look at Minho convinced you that you didn’t have to be. “I want to see you both again. Is that… a little weird? I just, I really enjoyed, and I-”

“Absolutely,” Minho agreed. He moved to sit closer to you and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you onto his lap. “Give me your phone.”

You blinked. Where was it? Digging through your uniform, you found it tucked into one of the inside pockets of the skirt, and you triumphantly handed it to him. You watched him make two contact names, and send both a quick ‘hi’ text so that they had your number, too. It was still shocking. You couldn’t quite believe it. Could you be greedy, and have both? Jisung was still asleep and snoring, and you found yourself smiling at him. He was bundled up in the blanket like a little burrito.

Minho handed your phone back, kissing your forehead. “Let me know when you get home safe.”

You practically ran out of the house, in all honesty. You were still dressed in Minho’s clothes, and once you’d slid your shoes back on, you started to walk back to your own home. You were pretty sure it wasn’t a long walk, and it wasn’t, all things considered - you were back home within five minutes, and you swung the door open.

Wait. It was unlocked? It was unlocked the whole night, while you’d been out acting like a fucking celebrity, and now someone had probably broken in, and-

You tiptoed into the living room, almost terrified, and then you saw Hyunjin and Felix. Both were eating cup noodles, staring at the TV where some random drama was on. Do hangovers just not exist for those two? Why hadn’t they even text, to see how you were? What the fuck was wrong with them?

“You’re home!” Felix said, cheerful as always. You furrowed your eyebrows, staring between the two. They have their own homes. Why were they there? They were showered, wet hair visible and with fresh clothes on. Your clothes, you noted. The t-shirt was a little too tight on Hyunjin’s shoulders.

“Why aren’t you at your own fucking houses, guys?” You scoffed, sprawling on the sofa. Your head landed on Hyunjin’s lap, and he spoonfed you a serving of noodles. You chewed it happily. You did love them, deep down.

“You’re confident after last night,” He mused. With his spare hand, he yanked down your - no, Minho’s t-shirt, and you were too slow to stop him from seeing it. Bright as day, the mark that Jisung had sucked into your skin was darkening as the time went on, a perfect giveaway of what you’d been up to the night before. “Oh my God. Felix, look!”

Felix leaned over, the three of you intertwined like a pretzel, and then his jaw dropped. “Oh my God. Who- which one was that?!”

You felt almost smug as you sat up, pulling the t-shirt back into place. “That was Jisung.”

Hyunjin gasped. Felix was grinning, wide and blinding. “That leads me to believe you may have had fun with both of them, right?” Hyunjin giggled, poking at your side. You scoffed, kicking him in the leg.

That brought back your anxiety, however. You’d had fun with both of them, made out with both of them, and they were both fucking gorgeous and so, so kind to you. They both seemed interested. They had to be, or why would they both kiss you? “Um… Yeah, I did, but… I want to see them both again. I can’t, though, like… it’s not logical.”

Felix tilted his head to the side. “Why not, sweetie?”

“Because there’s two of them? Like, what kind of a question is that-”

“What kind of a person are you if you’ve never heard of polyamory?” Hyunjin berated you through a mouthful of noodles. Your eyebrows raised in shock. He had a point. That had never even crossed your mind. “I mean, they have their own thing going on. They’re soulmates, everyone knows that.”

“But.. they’re not together. Sungie told me it was just a no-strings-attached type of thing-”

“Sungie?!” Felix squealed. “That’s so- so cute!”

Hyunjin glared at Felix, trying to get him to shut up so he could speak. “They’re soulmates, but they’re not together. It’s like best friend soulmates, except they make out and fuck sometimes. It makes sense for them both wanting to date the same girl is what I’m saying,” Hyunjin shrugged as if you’d thought of this before. You felt dumb. Why hadn’t you thought of that, actually? “The game’s tonight, too. You’ll see them again.”

“So… I should go for it?” You asked, feeling slightly insecure. You’d gone for it last night, and nothing ended badly. Could you do it again, though?

“Absolutely,” They both agreed, literally at the same time. You sighed, before nodding. You could do this. But you’d forgotten to text Minho, so that had to happen first.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[11:31am] Minho: Looking forward to seeing your ass in that skirt again tonight.

That text had been running circles in your head all day. Felix and Hyunjin had screamed when you showed them what he’d said. If anyone asked, you’d never admit that you’d put on some nice pink lace underwear underneath your skirt just in case. You felt a blush spread across your face as you reread his text.

A feeling of anticipation spread through you as you waited for the game to start. Cheerleaders were meant to take to the field first, and then the footballers would come on afterwards. It wasn’t a serious game, just one of the preliminary ones against another university team that could be considered as amateur. You could still feel your heart rate picking up as you all flooded onto the field, Felix dragging you along with his arm wrapped around yours comfortingly. The pom poms were literally almost slipping from your hands with how nervous you were, clammy and hot under the stadium lights.

As it wasn’t a serious game, the stands weren’t that full, which made you feel a little more relaxed. Jihyo had chosen this game for you to start for a reason, clearly. You were still yet to get used to having eyes on you, eagerly awaiting a cheer to sprout from your mouth. It was anything but ideal, and you would have rather been anywhere else at that moment.

Thankfully, your cheer routine to introduce the game went without a hitch and Hyunjin high fived you afterwards. When the subsequent clapping and cheers from the stalls died down, you nervously anticipated the footballers’ arrivals. They were like kings in your university, after all, and now you’d found yourself embroiled in something sexy and almost… heartfelt with two of them. You felt a little bit silly. You were definitely reading too much into things too quick.

Then, the captain arrived. Chan was someone you were vaguely familiar with, since he was extremely close with Hyunjin and you’d actually seen him the night before. He didn’t spare any of you a second glance as he bounced onto the field, the cheers starting back up again, but you hadn’t expected anything different. In all honesty, you’d expected Jisung and Minho to ignore you all, too, because it was game time. They needed to have their game faces on, quite literally. Waving at the cheerleaders would distract from that.

You could literally hear Felix and Hyunjin both snickering at you as your two love interests bounded onto the field. You elbowed them both sharply, making Hyunjin groan and attempt to fight back before Felix was yanking him back by his hair.

Surprisingly, Jisung halted on his journey across the field. He was almost directly in front of you. You stared at him with a confused expression while he used his hand to cover the massive lights dotted around the university stadium, spinning around in a circle until he saw you. Your expression quickly morphed into shock as he dropped his helmet on the floor, grabbing Minho by the arm and bounded over to you.

“You left before I woke up,” He pouted, out of breath from running. Minho was just snickering beside him, arms crossed over his chest with his red helmet still in hand. You gaped, jaw dropped.

“I- Jisung, you have a game to play,” You hissed, pom poms now dangerously close to slipping from your sweaty hands. Jisung simply laughed, inching closer to you.

“Don’t care. Can I come over after the game? Minho’s busy with an assignment, he’s such a smarty pants,” Jisung reeled off statements, each one as quick as the last one. Minho just watched him, staring at you both with an amused look. You just stood there, staring at Jisung. Felix and Hyunjin were giggling. You could hear them. Pricks. Everyone on the stalls had started to murmur amongst themselves, wondering why two of the star players were talking to some random cheerleader. “Oh my God, I know I’m being weird but stop staring at me. I promise I’ll shower before I come over.”

“Jisung! Yes, you can come over but people are starting to stare, please go to your team-”

“Alright! See you later,” In the most shocking turn of events to date, in all of history actually, was that Jisung pressed a sweet peck to your lips and skipped back to his team. That was bad enough. What made matters even worse was Minho kissing you, too, just as chaste as Jisung’s kiss. He ruffled your hair and followed Jisung off to the other end of the field.

“Well, that answers our question,” Felix said, resting his head on your shoulder. “You’re all dating.”

Hyunjin swatted Felix, still staring in the direction of Minho and Jisung. “Don’t say that. They need to actually ask her first. She’s not settling for less than that, you know?”

Unsurprisingly, the boys won. Minho and Jisung were grinning at you when the score was official, 22-16 to your university. You watched wordlessly as they bounced towards the locker room, everyone cheering and slapping each other on the backs. You knew what would happen now. Jisung would shower, and then he’d wait for you outside for you to get changed, too.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“I got loads of sweets from the vending machine,” Jisung babbled once you reached your front door. You had wondered what the plastic carrier bag in his hand was, slapping off of his jogger-clad leg while you walked home. “I wanted to show you this super cool documentary I found. It’s about this really small cat, but it’s really brave. Minho liked it.”

He was so fucking endearing. He was still going on about the documentary as you just smiled and nodded, leading him to your room. Your room was slightly embarrassing, something you noted as he stepped inside of it. It was very pink, very girly and the double bed had multiple cute pillows scattered all over it. He picked up a heart shaped one anyway, sprawling on the bed with it clutched tightly to his chest.

“So,” you began, throwing yourself onto his bed next to him. You were glad you’d taken comfortable clothes to change in after the game - you still had the nice underwear on, y’know, just in case. “Tell me more about this little cat.”

“Oh my God,” Jisung gushed, thrashing around as if he couldn’t handle how cute the cat was. You giggled, grabbing his arm to stabilise him. “It’s this little cat. He's so tiny, but he’s really brave. He’s all spotty too, like a little leopard. He’s so cute but he’s really daring. It- it kind of-” Jisung trailed off, staring at the wall.

He was getting shy. You rubbed your hand over his arm, smiling softly. “Kind of what, Sungie?”

“Kind of reminded me of you,” Jisung mumbled. His hands clenched around the pillow. “Like, it was really cute, but so brave. I showed it to Minho this morning, and - he agreed. It’s like you. You’re so brave, and cute, and you’re quite small, too. Smaller than us, I mean. You were really brave last night. I could tell you’re kinda shy, but you still spoke to us, and opened up to us. It was nice to see. I’m- I’m interested in you. I like you, I guess, we both do. I know it’s early, but-”

You cut him off with a kiss to his lips. When you pulled back, he was wide-eyed, fingers tight on the pillow. You smiled, nuzzling your nose against his. “I am shy. But I don’t feel that shy around you and Min, because… I guess I like you too. I enjoyed last night way too much to be healthy. It is early, but I’ve decided I don’t care.”

“Yay,” Jisung mumbled, and then he was kissing you again. He threw the pillow to the side, hands enveloping in your hair and pulling you closer. Kissing Jisung was like heaven. It just felt right, and it felt like a reward both times you’d done it. You wanted to do it a lot more. When your thigh shifted to get closer to him, to feel him more, you felt a solid obtrusion in your way. You blinked, forehead against his so you could stare down at his pants.

“You’re hard..?” You questioned, staring at the sizable tent in Jisung’s trousers. He blushed crimson at your statement, and yanked on his trousers to try and cover it.

“Yeah, I’m hard because you’re fucking hot,” He mumbled, looking up at you with dark, round eyes. You tilted your head, confused.

“I’m… hot?”

“You’re even hotter because you don’t know it!” He huffed, finally giving up on hiding it. He sprawled back against your bedsheets, hair fanned around his head. Now that he’d stopped moving, you could really look at it. It was clearly hard, length pressed tightly against his joggers and a spot of precum leaking through onto the grey fabric. “I came over just to talk to you, just to chill and tell you about that cute cat, and now… my dick is fucking hard.” He sounded distraught, and you giggled. Time to bite the bullet, yet again.

“Want me to help?” You asked, shifting so that you were on top of his lap. He jolted, hands coming to grab your hips with wide eyes. He moved so that he was leaning up against your pillows, and his t-shirt rose a little with the movement, exposing that delicious honey toned skin. Your eyes were fixated on it immediately. “I want… I want to fuck you, so bad. I can ride you. If you want.”

Jisung huffed again, blowing hair out of his face with the puff of air. “We can’t. Minho will want to be here the first time all three of us fuck properly.”

“Oh?” That was cute, actually. It was nice knowing that he did like you as much as you liked him, this quick, after just one night of chatting and making out. You were all down bad, all three of you. “I can jerk you off though, right?” You were talking a lot of smack for someone who’d never actually jerked off a guy before.

“Oh God, yes, please,” He whimpered, and you rolled your hips down on top of him teasingly. It made him gasp, before he was pushing you off, yanking his joggers down impatiently. You almost choked on air in shock - no wonder you could see everything, the fucker had gone commando after his post-game shower. He gripped his cock, a tight ring around the base as if to show you just how hard it was. When you looked at him, now positioned on his thighs, his eyes were watery and pleading.

“I… I’ve never done this before, so you’ll have to guide me. Tell me what you like, ‘kay?” You ordered, and Jisung nodded, releasing his cock so you could grab it yourself. The head peeked out from beneath his foreskin, wet with precum and dripping onto the smattering of pitch black hair at his base. It was thick, not overly long but a perfect length, actually. It had you dripping into your nice panties, and you internally grimaced. They’d be ruined after this. You wanted him to see the effect he had on you, and you gripped his shaft tightly, pumping experimentally.

“Oh,” Jisung whined, “tighter around the head. And- and, please, spit on it, make it wet, I-” You obliged, spitting on the head and wrapping your fingers around it just a bit tighter. It was noisy after that, making a slick noise every time you got to the head and pulled a bit more. His hips were kicking up, fucking up into your fist as he let out unabashed whines.

“You sound so pretty,” You admitted, kissing his cheek. He managed to catch you in a kiss, whimpering as your tongue swiped over his. His eyes were even glassier when you pulled back, clear tears adorning the dark chocolate colour. “I want to fuck you so bad, Jisung.”

“Yeah? You do?” Jisung asked, his hands reaching out to grab your wrist firmly. You barely managed to continue pumping past his tight grip, grinning when you saw the head of his cock get wetter. You gasped as you felt his grip on your wrist tighten even more, the pleasure-pain radiating through your body. You felt an electric shock when you felt his breath on your neck, his soft lips leaving a trail of kisses as you continued to pump his erection. You watched his thighs clench, partially obscured by the fabric caught beneath you, and his eyes shut as he let out an incoherent moan. “I’m- gettin’ there. Gonna cum soon, gonna-”

It was sloppy and messy, but you didn’t care. You felt yourself getting wetter the more you pumped, and Jisung moaned in response. His thighs clenched and unclenched as he got closer and closer to orgasm, and you knew he was about to cum. All of a sudden, you had a wanting inside of you to taste his cock, and you shifted down his legs to engulf the head in your mouth. It had a slight salty taste, not unpleasant but unfamiliar. The look on Jisung’s face was worth it. His eyes were wide, jaw dropped as you swirled the tongue over his head.

“Oh, yeah, look at me,” You obliged, looking up with doe eyes as you sucked harshly on his cockhead. You used your hand to continue pumping, and as if it was unexpected, he gasped and let out a loud whine. “So beautiful, what the fuck? I can’t handle it- oh. Oh, I’m cumming-”

The taste flooded your mouth, hot cum hitting your tastebuds. Again, it wasn’t unpleasant, just unfamiliar. You had many plans to get used to the taste. Jisung’s hand clutched your head as he writhed throughout his orgasm, deep sighs and pants coming from his lips. You ran your tongue around him one more time, before pulling off and smiling at him.

“Jeez, that was- what? You swallowed?” You nodded. Were you not meant to? You thought you were. Jisung whined, covering his face with his hands. “That’s so sexy. You’re so sexy. Can I eat you out, please?”

“Is that… will Minho be okay with that?” You replied, but you still let Jisung push you back into your sheets. Jisung nodded, yanking down your trousers. You’d almost forgotten about the underwear. The second delicate, pink lace met Jisung’s eye, his jaw dropped, and he was gasping as if he’d only just finished his match.

“Is it… does it match?” Jisung asked, and you nodded. You hesitantly grabbed your shirt, yanking it up to show the pink balcony bra that matched your thong. Jisung looked like he’d seen God, eyes wide and almost comical with the way his soft cock was pressed against the sheets. He was looking at you like you hung the fucking moon. “I gotta FaceTime Minho. Can I? He’s gonna fucking die if I show him this.”

“Woah-” You jolted as Jisung reached over, grabbing his phone from the joggers at the end of the bed. You got a nice view of his ass as he bent over, peachy and with a cute little hole begging to be teased. Okay. You’d need to address that mentally later. “You can call him, but isn’t he working?”

“Yeah, but he’ll wanna see this,” Jisung mumbled. You watched him flick through contacts until he was phoning the other counterpart to your love triad, and it only took two rings for Minho to answer. “Minho. Look.”

You wanted to hide, exposed with your top pulled up above your tits and your core clenching around nothing. Jisung hadn’t even given Minho a chance to speak, but you could hear Minho’s sharp inhale of breath through the phone.

“You better not have fucked her, Sungie.”

“No, he- we didn’t have sex, Min, promise,” You said, urgently trying to make sure the other man wasn’t angry at you. Jisung flipped the camera around again, nodding solemnly at him. “He- he wants to, um…”

“I wanna eat her out, and I’m going to. You wanna see, hyung?” Jisung was cocky when he said it, waiting for Minho’s reply with a raised eyebrow. You were baffled - you could’ve sworn you’d never heard Jisung address Minho like that. Perhaps it was only a bedroom thing? Minho obviously gave his affirmation to seeing you, because Jisung handed you the phone. You were kind of hazy from the whole conversation, and you looked confusedly at the camera when it showed you and not Jisung settling between your legs.

“Hey, gorgeous. You look tasty,” You giggled at Minho’s words. He had glasses perched on his nose and his hair was pushed back, a casual grey hoodie over his shoulders. He was so fucking cute. “Wanna turn the camera so I can see Sungie eating that pussy?”

“Mm, yeah, okay,” Jisung was nosing over your underwear when you flipped the camera around, and you obediently kept it at an angle where Minho could see your tummy and your lace-covered core. He groaned when his eyes focused on the expanse of your skin, soft under the lighting of your bedroom.

“Sungie’s really good with his tongue, gorgeous,” Minho said, and you hummed. You’d never been eaten out before and you were on edge, thighs shaking. On Jisung’s phone, you could see where the camera had started to shake from your nerves and Minho’s hand had crept into his trousers.

“Min, I wanna see you,” You groaned, head falling back against your pillows. Jisung snickered between your legs, and then he was hooking his thumbs into your underwear, pulling them down. Minho shook his head, groaning at the sight of your swollen clit pressing against Jisung’s lips.

“You can see me another time, I need to see that pussy. Is she wet, Sungie?”

Jisung ran his tongue through your folds and you jolted, legs automatically spreading wider. The sensation was so intimate, so personal and so fucking hot. “She’s fuckin’ soaked, hyung. Tastes amazing,” Jisung murmured. Then, like a man starved, he was diving into your folds. His tongue drew zigzags along your slit, licking up the accumulated slick and letting it lube your clit when he got to it. Pouty lips wrapped around the little button and sucked hard, and you whined, hips bucking into his mouth.

“He’s good, isn’t he?” Minho asked, and you hummed, eyes fixated on the mop of dark hair between your legs. Jisung looked up at you, eyes round and blown with lust, and you felt yourself gush onto his tongue. Minho groaned, clearly feeling the effects of seeing Jisung’s eyes so dark. “Tell me how it feels, jagi. I want to know what he’s doing.”

Jagi? Oh God, you could die. “It’s- he’s licking my, um, hole, and then he’s licking my clit, and it’s- ah, ‘s so good, so good, never had this before, I-“

“No one’s ever eaten that sloppy cunt before?” Minho questioned, and you moaned, letting out a small confirmation. Jisung was ravenous, head bobbing as he let you ride his tongue with the bucks of your hips. “That’s a shame, jagi. You’ve got us now, yeah? Jisung loves eating pussy.”

“I do,” Jisung added, pulling away. Then, two fingers breached your entrance and Jisung was curling them up, rubbing right against your g-spot. You hadn’t even managed to reach this spot when you were alone, let alone with the one guy you’d slept with, and you let out a squeal, almost dropping the phone. Jisung hissed, kitten licking over your clit. “This pussy’s tight, hyung.”

“Yeah?” Minho’s voice was strained all of a sudden, and you watched as he threw his head back against his computer chair. “I can’t wait to fuck you, jagi. I can’t wait to fuck you, and I’m gonna- gonna fuck you raw, and-“

“Oh my God, I’m gonna cum if you keep talking,” You whined, thrashing around on Jisung’s fingers. He didn’t pump his fingers, only rubbing his fingertips against your g-spot and sucking over your clit. It was like he knew your body, playing it like it was an instrument until it made the most beautiful noise.

Minho groaned, and Jisung had the biggest grin on his face as he watched you get closer to your climax. “Yeah? You like the idea of me fucking you raw? Maybe- maybe I’ll fucking breed that cunt, yeah?”

“Oh, fucking- shit, shit, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna- hnng, Ji, Sungie, please don’t stop, I’m gonna-“

“You’re kinda dirty, y’know, about to cum to the idea of hyung breeding you,” Jisung mumbled, but the look on his face signified he knew what he was doing. You clenched on his fingers and let out a stuttered breath, just balancing precariously on the edge of your orgasm. “Maybe I’ll fuck you raw too. Then you can have both of our loads dripping out of this cunt, yeah?”

That did it for you. The idea of them both taking you raw, fucking you until their cum spurts inside of you, both loads of cum - you wailed, sent headfirst into your orgasm. You had stars dancing all over your clenched shut eyes, the arousal leaking over Jisung’s fingers in the most powerful orgasm you’d ever had, including when you’d make yourself cum. Oh, well. You’d just have to come back for more.

When you opened your eyes, Jisung slid his fingers out of you with a wet noise, popping them into his mouth and sucking them clean. Heavy breathing directed your attention to Minho who still sat on the call, but now with his chest heaving and cum splattered on his hoodie. He grimaced, looking down at the fabric.

“Oh, no,” Jisung whined, staring up at you. You raised an eyebrow in question. “I didn’t even get to take your bra off!”

You giggled, kicking him playfully. “Are you a boob guy, Sungie?”

“Yes! Minho likes ass, I like tits. That’s why you need us both.”

You rolled your eyes. “I guess I can’t argue with that reasoning.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Your life was turning out to be a fairytale.

You hadn’t seen the boys for a week at that point, the night of yet another party. You insisted you weren’t going, but of course Hyunjin was Hyunjin and had roped you into the tightest skirt you owned and made you come. It was only made relatively comfortable by the fact you, Minho and Jisung had been texting in your recently made groupchat, and they’d be attending the party too. You could hopefully sneak away from the party with them, since you knew it wasn’t Jisung’s preferred scene either.

You pulled at the hem of the skirt, reminding you of the way you had behaved the night you first met your love interests. Hyunjin swatted your hands away this time, and Felix threw a pair of fishnet tights at your head.

“Put these on,” He commanded you. “Minho will go insane.”

He did, when you’d arrived. Felix and Hyunjin had made a beeline for the kitchen when you got to the massive house - which you now knew was Minho and Jisung’s, along with the rest of the football team. You’d wanted to psych yourself up a bit, get yourself ready to see the boys, but you’d come face to face with them as soon as you’d entered the room.

“Oh,” Jisung blurted, eyes trained directly on your thighs. Minho was engrossed in conversation with Chan, but when Jisung grabbed him by the arm to turn him towards you, his jaw dropped. His eyes scanned down your body, completely bypassing the skirt and fixating on your semi-exposed legs.

It had you staring at him, too. You had Jisung in a sexual context, but you were yet to see what was hidden between Minho’s legs. They were both dressed in tight leather trousers, Jisung pairing his with a sleeveless black blazer and nothing underneath. Minho, however, was in a sleeveless khaki tank top, and you thought your heart had stopped. You needed to take it off. He looked built underneath, now that you weren’t seeing him in his baggy football jersey or a comfy t-shirt.

“Oh,” You returned Jisung’s statement. Minho had tits, built pecs that deserved your teeth sinking into them. You couldn’t believe you were being such a pervert, but when you finally looked up at Minho’s face, he was smirking.

Jisung giggled. “Okay! I think we need to get you two upstairs. Lovely to see you, Hyunjin, Felix,” You watched Jisung nod at the two in greeting. The two bastards you called best friends were grinning, elbowing each other in glee as Jisung linked arms with you and Minho. You let yourself be dragged upstairs, and it took everything in you not to fall over drooling at the sight of Minho’s thighs in those tight trousers. When you arrived at their shared room, Jisung shut the door behind you, before staring at you and Minho with an incriminating look. “Are you two in fucking heat or something? Like, damn- oh. Okay.”

He was cut off by Minho throwing you against the wall, one hand yanking your hair back to force his tongue into your mouth. You whined, letting him dominate your lips with his own, and your hands came up to grip his biceps.

When he pulled away, you chased his lips only for him to reach up with one hand and wrap it around your throat, pinning you back to the wall. “Please tell me you’re going to fuck me,” You huffed, eyes flickering to Jisung. “Both of you. I haven’t drank anything, you stole me before I could.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re a brat,” Minho retorted, his nose nuzzling against yours as if he was about to kiss you again. He didn’t, only a teasing brush of his lips. “I’ve already got one bonafide brat to deal with.”

Jisung gasped. “Hey!”

Minho shrugged. “It’s true,” His eyes turned back to you, blown with lust. You could see his erection pressed against his pants, and you fixated on it, licking your lips. He chuckled. “Alright, gorgeous. I’ll be nice to you today. Get on the bed.”

You blinked, moving over to the makeshift bed. They’d pushed them together again, and you weren’t sure if they’d just left them like that after last time or if they’d done it tonight. Either way, you were pleased at the idea of you all curling up and sleeping together again.

“Sungie, c’mere,” Minho mumbled, and then in a scene that could have only come from your wet dreams, he was kissing Jisung. His hand was on the back of his head, and the other rested on his waist, pulling him close to kiss him deep and hard. It was filthy, and you squirmed against the sheets, pouting. You wanted to kiss Jisung too.

“Me next,” You blurted. Jisung pulled away, giggling, and then he was climbing onto the bed to loom over you.

“Greedy. I told you I like it when you’re bold, ‘s so sexy,” His lips met yours with a wet noise, tongue automatically pushing into your mouth. The way Jisung kissed always enraptured you - dirty, filthy and open mouthed always, whereas Minho was more precise. You liked the way they balanced eachother out.

“Sungie, you can fuck her first. I want to find out what she likes,” Minho commanded, joining the two of you on the bed. He managed to position you so your back was to his chest, and Jisung was in between your legs, crotch pressing against yours in those fucking leather pants. “I’m guessing you like me talking to you, gorgeous.”

“Yeah, ‘s hot,” You replied, shifting so your hips grinded up against Jisung’s bulge. Jisung sighed, moving to join you in the teasing push and pull. His shaft brushed up against your clit, and you could feel everything from his base to his cockhead. Even just dry humping him felt fucking delicious.

“She likes the idea of being filled up with cum,” Jisung contributed, his lips moving to suck marks into your skin again. He seemed to love doing that.

“My question is, do you like it rough? Would you want me to slap you around a bit, hurt you?” Minho said. His lips were brushing against your earlobe and you whined, bucking up into Jisung sharply.

“I dunno- I dunno, I’ve never tried it,” You admitted, and Minho hummed. Then, with a swift move, his hand was coming down to smack sharply onto your thigh through your fishnets. You gasped, and a gush of wetness flooded your panties. “Oh.”

“She liked that, I fucking felt it,” Jisung mumbled, hair floppy over his eyes. His lips were wet, and you grabbed his head and traced the pouty flesh with your tongue. His hands went up to your top, pushing it up and exposing your bra to both of the boys. Minho was helpful in unclasping it and dropping it from your shoulders. You felt like a doll, lying there surrounded by them both while they touched you all over. It was worth it for the look on Jisung’s face when he saw your tits, and then he was sucking one of your nipples into his mouth.

You were so on edge it didn’t take long for you to babble. “Oh, fucking God- Ji, Sungie, harder, suck harder, bite them-“

“Bite them?” Minho scoffed. “You do like pain, huh?”

Jisung’s teeth nipped at your bud teasingly, and you squealed, chest arching to meet his mouth. He pulled away, grabbing both tits in his hand and burying his face in between them. “These are magnificent.”

“I’m really happy for you that you like them, Sungie, but I think she might die if she doesn’t get anything inside that cunt soon,” Minho sighed, and you wanted to kiss him in gratitude. You really were about to die.

Jisung nodded obediently, and then he was giving Minho another chaste kiss before inching your skirt up your legs. He struggled with the tight material of it, before he finally got it situated at your waist, and then he couldn’t get the fishnets down. He was struggling, you could see that, and Minho reached over with a sigh and positively ripped the fishnets open.

“Jesus, Minho! They were Felix’s!” Minho shrugged, and then he took the extra, most annoying step and ripped the lace of your panties open, too. Jisung sat there slack jawed, palming his erection over his tight trousers when your pussy was revealed to him, glistening wet in the light.

“You’re soaking, my baby,” Jisung murmured, eyes fixated on your folds. You wiggled eagerly, making Minho pin your hips down. “Do you want my cock?”

“Yes! Wan’ it, wanted it since I saw it,” You whimpered, and Jisung grinned. You watched as he yanked his blazer off, revealing that tiny waist, and then you moaned when he pulled his trousers down and his cock sprang out. It was leaking for you once again, hard as a rock and he pumped it twice, moaning. “Stop teasing, Jisung.”

Minho leaned over, running two fingers through your slit before humming. “Jisung, fuck her. She doesn’t need any prep.”

“You sure, hyung?” Jisung looked at him with wide eyes. “I don’t want to hurt her.”

The way they were talking about you like you weren’t even there had more arousal burning in your gut. Minho just grinned, pinching your thigh again just to hear you squeak. “I’m pretty sure the pain will only make it better for her.”

Jisung nodded, and then he was positioning his cockhead at your entrance. You were wet, embarrassingly so, and he teasingly rubbed his cock against your slit a few times. “You still want it raw?”

“Please, oh my God,” You simpered, whining as his tip breached your hole. It was a stretch, but you loved the feeling of it, the large vein on his cock providing the best friction you’d ever felt. The hair on his pubic mound grazed your clit once you’d bottomed out and you gripped Minho’s forearms from where he sat behind you.

Jisung immediately started thrusting feverishly, his hair hanging over his eyes as he felt your drippy hole clench around him. You could feel yourself gushing, covering his pubic hair and his shaft with an embarrassing amount of wetness. You whined when Minho pinched your nipples, his chuckle shaking his chest where it pressed against you.

“Look at my greedy kitties, huh?” Minho cooed. Jisung whined in response, leaning down to suck more marks into your neck. You arched your back, trying to get more friction on your tits. “Fucking each other so desperately like that. It’s so fucking cute. Should I play with these?” He brushed his fingers over your nipples again, and you nodded eagerly, jolting when his fingers pinched the buds meanly.

“Hyung, ‘s so wet, oh my fucking God,” Jisung’s voice was high pitched, his eyes rolling back into his head. “You’re gonna fucking die when you get inside, I can’t- can’t handle it, I-“

“I think you’ve driven him pussy drunk, kitty,” Minho mumbled in your ear, making you giggle. “Is it good for you?”

“Hnng, yeah, he feels so thick,” You were sure you had a permanent, blissed smile on your face while you let yourself get fucked up into Minho. Minho grinned back at you, kissing your hairline. Jisung was drooling into your neck now, thrusts uneven but still feeling so, so good inside of you. “Mm, I want it deeper, please, Ji.”

“D-Deeper? Yeah, yeah, I’ve got you baby,” He nodded, pushing your legs up against your chest. “Hyung, hold ‘em. Please.” The ‘please’ seemed like it was added as an afterthought, but Minho chuckled and held your legs up anyway. You felt a bit disappointed his hands weren’t on your tits anymore, but when Jisung began to thrust again, it hit your g-spot incessantly with his quick pace. You whined, throwing your head back against Minho. The jolt of ecstasy that you’d felt when Minho slapped you was something you were absolutely desperate to feel again, however.

“I- I wanna be slapped again, please, Min-“

“My hands are busy, filthy girl,” Minho hummed. “Jisung. Slap her across the face.”

“The- the face?! Hyung, oh my God-“ Jisung looked wide eyed between you and Minho, but you didn’t miss the way his hands tightened on the bed sheets next to you.

“Slap me, Sungie, please. C’mon, I know you’ve got it in you, I know you want to-“ You were cut off with Jisung’s hand raising and slapping you clean across the cheek, and then you were cumming. You gushed around Jisung’s cock, wondering why it felt so, so wet all of a sudden, and Jisung let out a deep moan.

“You are a fucking menace. Greedy, filthy, oh my God, squirted all over my cock, like what the fuck?” Jisung whined, and you lifted your head up, looking down. You had, actually, and you’d had no idea. “I’m going to cum. ‘S too wet now, hyung, I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum then,” Minho sighed. “But you better be eating that cum straight out of her pussy and letting her taste.”

You whined, nodding, and then Jisung was cumming. His hips stalled as he came, one long, drawn out moan falling from his pouty lips. You felt the warmth fill you up, and you looked up at Jisung with doe eyes. He pulled out, his cock softening, and you expected Minho to let go of your legs - he held you further up, instead, baring your gushing hole to Jisung’s mouth when he shifted down to stare at it.

Then, his tongue was licking through your hole with intensity, scooping up his own cum and holding it in his mouth. He leaned over you, and you let your tongue loll out of your mouth to accept the mixed flavours of you and him. It was so fucking dirty, but you could feel your pussy getting wet all over again. Just when you thought you were meant to swallow, Minho was pulling you back by your jaw and kissing you filthily, swallowing the taste of yours and Jisung’s cum. You moaned, shifting to move onto Minho’s lap and straddle those beautiful fucking thighs.

“Need you, now,” You murmured against his lips, licking along the seam of them. Minho smirked, before he was pulling your head back by your hair.

“I think I decide what you fucking need, don’t I?” He replied, eyes dark and staring into yours. Jisung snickered from next to you, sprawled leisurely and with a now-hard cock again. What the fuck? Did his refractory period not exist, or?

“You’re in for it,” Jisung chirped, and you blinked hazily.

“Are you going to be mean to me, Min? Haven’t even seen your cock yet,” You pouted, and Minho laughed, shoulders shaking. That answered your question.

“Why don’t you take it out then? Have a look at it, kitty,” He laid back, and you nodded. You felt a little silly, fishnets ripped all over, tits out and your skirt in a strip of fabric around your waist, but you didn’t care. Minho was looking at you like you were the best meal he’d ever seen. You shifted backwards, undoing his trousers and trying to yank them down his thick thighs.

Woah. That was the first thing you thought, looking down at the massive bulge in plain black boxers with a small amount of precum leaking through. Fucking big. Thick. You wanted to make grabby hands and throw a tantrum, but you held onto the last bit of dignity you had and pulled his length out of his underwear. Fuck. His shaft was flushed, long and thick, with a perfectly shaped mushroom head leaking small pearlescent drops all the way down onto the shaft. The dark, coarse hair was perfectly trimmed above his length as if he'd planned this. How could his cock be pretty too? No wonder he walked with such an air of confidence.

“I’m g’na sit on it,” You blurted, staring at his length. Jisung chuckled, and when you turned to him, he was pumping his cock again. Seriously, what the fuck?

“You’re going to do what I fucking tell you to do, kitty. Face down, ass up. Put your head by Jisung, c’mon,” Minho commanded you. When you moved to get up, you watched him rip the rest of his trousers off and pull his vest top off, exposing the expanse of his body. He was ethereal - dusky pink nipples on built pecs, and his arms were so fucking big when paired with the rest of his slight frame.

You flipped over nonetheless, trying to calm the panting breaths flooding from your lungs. Jisung spread his legs and let you rest your head on his thigh, only a few inches from his cock. Oh. That’s why Minho wanted you like this. Jisung grinned down at you, and when you tried to get his cock in your mouth, you were alarmed by the sensation of Minho’s cock pressed against your hole.

“Ready for me, kitty? Are you ready for me to breed this slutty fucking hole? I am going to be a little mean to you, you know,” Minho said, his tone low. You nodded, nuzzling against Jisung’s thigh affectionately. He returned it with a soft scratch to your scalp, one hand still pumping his cock. You watched the muscles of his tummy clench as he did so, humming in appreciation. They were both so sexy.

“Give it to me, Min, I can take it,” You murmured, and then he was bottoming out. He was longer than Jisung, hitting your g-spot with minimum effort from the position you were in, and you whined out, legs thrashing.

“I thought you could take it,” Minho scoffed. “You’re talking big for someone with such a tiny little fucking hole, huh?”

“I can take it-“

“Occupy your mouth with something else instead,” He interrupted you, and then he pointed at Jisung. “I don’t want to hear you whining, either. Legs up.”

Jisung’s eyes went wide. “Hyung-?”

“Do you want to make your Sungie feel good, kitty? It’s not fair he has to jerk off while watching his two loves fuck, right?” Minho cooed. His hips were slapping against your ass, making you gush and moan around him. You hated the way he sounded so unaffected while you were struggling to put sentences together. “There is something he really likes.”

“Yeah, y-yeah, I wanna make him feel good-“

Minho rewarded you with a slap to your ass, before yanking your head up by your hair. “Jisung. Legs up.”

Jisung obliged, pulling his legs up and apart. From this angle, you could see his hole, fluttering around nothing. It was as if he realised what Minho was planning the same second you did. “Oh, a-are you gonna lick me there, baby?”

“Mm, I want to,” You moaned, trying to escape Minho’s firm grip on your hair. “Min, can I?”

“Good kitty for asking,” He dropped your hair, moving his hand underneath you to rub your clit in precise circles. It heightened the pleasure tenfold, and you gasped, pushing your hips back against him. “That’s it. Fuck your hips back on my cock and lick his hole, fucking slut. Our slut, yeah?”

“Your slut, both of you,” You confirmed, nodding, before your head was delving between Jisung’s legs. He squealed as soon as you licked over his hole, something you’d wanted to do since you saw him grab his phone in your room. You let your ass bounce on Minho’s cock, his hand slapping your flesh every now and again and the other massaging your clit.

You realised very soon that you were going to cum for the second time, and you broke away from Jisung’s ass to look at Minho with pleading eyes. “Please, please, Min, m’close, need it…”

“What do you need, kitty? Do you need more?” Minho asked. You nodded, laving your tongue over Jisung’s balls and making him whine. You felt his hand move from your asscheek to trace his thumb around your second hole, making you jolt, until you were closing your eyes in anticipation. Minho chuckled. “Oh. You want this?”

“I- I’ve never…”

“It’s fuckin’ amazing. Hyung, finger her ass. She’ll love it,” Jisung contributed, and when you looked at him, his hand was pumping his cock again. You let your head delve down to lick over his asshole once more, with renewed fervour this time, and you giggled when Jisung moaned loudly. You were glad the party was still going on, music drowning out any noises that could fizzle from the room.

Minho slid his thumb into your ass, and you felt your legs tremble. Being filled like this was insane, his cock still bullying into your pussy and you couldn’t help but imagine it being the both of them - Jisung in your pussy, Minho in your ass, or vice versa.

“God, we’ll have to both fuck your holes at some point,” Minho grunted. The noises from your pussy were erotic, slapping wet noises and keens coming from your mouth, too. “That ass looks so fucking tight. Would you like that?”

You nodded, whining. “I want you both to cum in both holes, fill me up- oh, oh my God, I’m gonna cum, Min!”

“Ah, really? You want one of us in each hole? That’s fucking dirty, kitty,” Minho’s hand slapped your clit, one, two, three times, making you gasp and lean upwards to suck on Jisung’s cock. It made him jolt, and he pushed it into your mouth, groaning with a tight grip on your hair. “C’mon, then. I think you deserve to cum. You’ve been such a good girl, taking my cock like this, huh?”

You let yourself pop off of Jisung’s length, drooling on the tip. “T-Thank you! Thank you, Min, I’m gonna cum so hard, for you, for you both-” The orgasm exploded in a more full-body sensation than your last one, but you could feel your wetness leaking all down Minho’s shaft. It still pistoned in and out of you, lengthening your orgasm and making you squeal in delight. It felt like you’d been coming for about ten minutes straight, until Minho was leaning over you, pressing his chest to your back. Jisung was pushing your hair out of your face and still pumping his cock steadily, staring into your eyes.

“I’m gonna breed this fucking hole. Such a slut, letting me go raw,” Minho mumbled, almost to himself, hips making you shift up the bed. You took Jisung’s cockhead into your mouth again, sucking hard, and then he was jolting. “Cum in her mouth, Sungie. I’m going to fill up this fucking pussy, so perfect for me, molded to my fucking cock…”

You moaned when you realised you’d be taking two loads that night - probably even more from them both when the party was over - and then Minho was bottoming out, filling you up. It dripped out around his cock with the sheer amount of it, and when you caught sight of him over your shoulder, his ears were flushed a crimson red and his lips were parted, letting out a deep sigh. He looked gorgeous.

Unshockingly, Minho wasn’t at all talkative after he came, and he collapsed on you with an ‘oomph’, cock still inside you. He watched you jerk Jisung’s cock, and chuckled when Jisung whined and his toes curled.

“Need’a cum again,” Jisung moaned, his chest dewy with sweat. “Fuckin’ need it, hyung, baby, shit, please help me, I need more-“

In another brief moment of confidence, you kept pumping Jisung’s cock and sucked one finger into your mouth, slipping it into his hole beneath heavy balls. It only took one, two thrusts of your finger before he was gasping, and cum spurted out like a fountain over your fist. After you kept pumping steadily, he pushed your hands away with a whine from the overstimulation.

“That was…” Jisung spoke, chest heaving. “Jesus. So good.”

“I loved it,” You cooed, running your hand through Minho’s hair where his head leaned on your shoulder. “Minho, your mouth is fucking dirty, you know that?”

“I wish I could talk like that in bed. I get too shy, I just blabber,” Jisung admitted, and when you looked at Minho, his cheeks were burning the same shade as his ears. His eyes were flickering between you, and then he bit your shoulder softly, playfully.

“You’ll both learn!” He chirped, pulling out of you and walking over to get some towels from the shared wardrobe.

“C’mere. Cuddle time,” Jisung chirped, and you giggled, sidling up to his side with your head on his chest. He still had cum on the bottom of his tummy, and you still had cum dripping out of your pussy onto the bed, but you didn’t care. You didn’t even care you were still in most of your clothes. Minho did, however, and he groaned in exasperation with a white towel in hand when he turned around and saw you two.

Minho crept onto the bed, wiping your folds and then Jisung’s tummy. You both giggled when he kissed both your foreheads before tossing the towel onto the floor, cuddling in behind you. You were in the middle again - just the way you liked it. Minho ripped your fishnets the rest of the way off and somehow managed to get the skirt detangled, leaving you in just your top, now rolled down. You shifted onto your back, letting them both cuddle into your chest.

“I get too shy too. I just beg, apparently,” You murmured. “I wish I was better at talking. Inside the bedroom and outside.”

“Do you ever wish… that someone could fix you? Like, fix what’s wrong with you?” Jisung asked, eyes staring at the ceiling. “I always wished someone could fix the way I am. How awkward and shy I can get, and stuff.”

“I don’t want someone who’s going to fix me,” You said, head falling onto Minho’s shoulder. Jisung stared at you attentively, eyes wide. “I just want someone who’s going to hold my hand while I try to fix myself.”

Jisung looked at Minho. It was like two seconds of unspoken conversation, then he spoke up. “How about two people?”

Right, that’s what you’d wanted to ask.

“Guys, I wanted to ask… are we… dating, like all three of us?” You mumbled, twiddling your fingers.

“I thought we were, yeah,” Jisung responded quickly, kissing your cheek. Minho scoffed.

“I want to ask you both properly. God knows neither of you are going to ask me,” Minho pulled you both into him, and you turned over and sidled up to him obediently. His chest was still flushed, a blotchy rash on his skin from the intense bedroom activities.

Jisung, however, tries to push him away, resuming his position behind you. “Hey! I totally would have asked.”

“No you wouldn’t, and that’s okay,” He kisses Jisung’s forehead, and then yours. “I like both of my shy babies.”

3K notes · View notes

kissatoru · 8 months

Text

★ ₊˚ WEAK FOR YOU

content. college au, dom/sub dynamics, bratty sub!eren, mean to soft dom!reader, gn!reader, dry humping, humiliation, nipple play, degradation, praise, edging, handjob, blowjob

wc. ~6.8k

house parties aren’t really your thing. you’ve been to a few but you quickly discovered that they involve a lot more vomit and interpersonal drama than you have the tolerance for, so you tend to avoid them. you would’ve turned down the invitation for this one too, if it wasn’t for the fact that it was eren jaeger who offered it up to you. that’s why you’re here, at the house of someone who’s a friend of a friend’s friend, at sometime past midnight. you’re leaning against the wall, sipping on a half-empty can of pop.

you finally spot eren, making his way over to you with a grin much too wide for someone who’s late to a party he invited you to. he looks good, dressed in a white tank top that brings out the musculature of his arms and black skinny jeans you’ve only ever seen him wear to parties like this one, since he usually wears sweatpants everywhere else. his hair is half-down and half-up in a bun, not too different from the usual messy man bun he goes for.

once he arrives at your side, beer can in hand, you exchange greetings and small talk, talking about nothing and everything. in the middle of a conversation, some drunk rando throws up by your feet, so you and eren migrate to a different room. on the way though, another person bumps into you and spills their drink down your shirt. it doesn’t help that you were already damp with sweat from how hot and stuffy it is, as well as nauseous from the lingering stench of vomit mixed with alcohol and BO. you meet their eyes with hellfire on your tongue and in any other situation, you would’ve let it loose, but the way they paw at your clothes and slur their apology reminds you that you’re in a house full of clumsy idiots just like them, so you just shrug it off and focus on finding a bathroom to clean up in.

that’s what eren likes about you. you’re down-to-earth and keep to yourself, but don’t let people walk over you and speak out when you need to; you’re not exactly timid, but you’re soft-spoken in a way that suits your voice and nice to people without being overly nice. oh and don’t get him started on your witty humour and the way you play off other people’s jokes so effortlessly; even when you shake your head or roll your eyes or just ignore him after he tells a joke that doesn’t land, he’s buzzing. that’s why he’s been ogling you during your shared lectures, the reason he keeps ‘losing’ his pens and asking to borrow from you, the reason he keeps ‘forgetting’ to give them back, the reason he asked you out to this party! something about you just got eren hooked, to the point that he couldn’t stop thinking about you, to the point he would wake up with a boner almost every morning and jerk off from what he remembered of his dreams about you; to the point those dreams turned into fantasies, imagining what your body looks like under your clothes, what your moans sound like, what faces you’d make.

you, on the other hand, didn’t have any strong feelings toward eren until later. you thought of him as kind of average, if not a little loud and annoying at times, such as when he disrupted class, but in a word, tolerable, and definitely not the worst classmate you’ve ever had. usually, you’d never give a guy like him the time of day unless he actually tried to pursue you (instead of just flirting and joking around aimlessly) but your interest was piqued after your friends passed on to you some rumours about him being a self-proclaimed ‘hardcore dom’. from that point on, you were just as hooked. you became less dismissive and a little more friendly, playing along with his game — long enough so that he’d never see it coming once you finally sunk your claws into him.

that’s why, when you finally find the bathroom, you stop in the doorway, turn to eren in your stained shirt and say, “do you mind helping me clean up?”

the excitement in his eyes doesn’t go unnoticed as he answers a nonchalant, “yeah, sure,” and follows you inside. the soft click of the lock has eren’s pulse jumping because he knows exactly where this is going. he knew you had to feel something back, that you couldn’t resist his advances forever. his eyes scan you shamelessly while you pull your top over your head and start wiping your chest down with a towel. he leans against the door and comments, “hey now, you might give a guy the wrong idea taking off your clothes like that,” and that’s what sets everything else into motion.

“yeah?” you say as you step closer. your voice is hushed, lowered, as if to whisper a dirty secret. “how do you know it’s the wrong idea?”

eren falters at your forwardness, but runs a palm over his hair and regains his composure. “i guess i don’t,” he says, not even trying to hide the way he’s staring at your lips. “so, is it?” his dark gaze flicks back up to your eyes. “the wrong idea?”

you smile and make sure to bat your eyelashes extra prettily as you whisper, “why don’t you kiss me and find out?”

his lips are on you as soon as you finish the question and his hands grasp at you while he backs you up against the door. he kisses you feverishly and as impatiently as you’ve been feeling this entire night. you let him kiss along your jaw, down your neck, across your collarbone, but before he can get too carried away, you guide him back to your lips. this time, you take over leadership in the kiss. eren smirks, mistaking it for eagerness, until a skilled tongue slides into his mouth and your hands begin to touch him with confidence and ease. his breath hitches once, twice, and it only spirals from there. he’s gasping and panting in seconds, overwhelmed and barely managing to keep up. slowly but surely, you’re pushing back, and he can feel himself giving in, involuntarily yielding to you like it’s a biological instinct. he doesn’t even realise how bad it is until it’s too late, until his back is pressed against the door and his centre of gravity becomes you, staring at him with a look he’s never seen on your face before.

“you’re real pretty, you know that, right?” you tell him as you tuck some of the loose hair from his bun behind his ear. eren opens his mouth, presumably to bark out a retort at your (what he believes to be) demeaning choice of words, but all that comes out is a quiet moan as your knee rides up between his legs. you take advantage of that and slip your thumb inside, pressing down on his tongue and opening his mouth wider. “so pretty,” you add in a croon, but then he brings his teeth down and bites your thumb. you don’t give him the satisfaction of a pained reaction, settling for a disappointed glare and a tight grip of his jaw. “don’t be a brat now, jaeger. you don’t wanna know what i do to brats.” interestingly, the lump against your knee twitches. you arch an eyebrow. “oh? or maybe you do?”

his eyes are on yours, seemingly stern and rebellious but you know it’s just a ruse; you know begging for mercy when you see it. such eyes suit him, you’ll give him that, but you’d have to be a fool not to take this opportunity, to give him that final nudge, those final few centimetres he needs to be all yours. so you whisper into his ear, the kinds of things he’s used to saying and worse, until he’s flushed and speechless, stuttering over his breaths and holding back whines. it’s almost too easy when you lean down to his neck, and he just lifts his chin and gives it to you, without you even having to ask. you reward him with red kisses and purple lovebites that have the skin beneath your lips thrumming with suppressed moans. it’s such a treat too, how affected he is when you’ve barely even started.

some part of eren is still screaming at him to steal back his dignity and the role he’s made a reputation out of, but his pants are damp and so tight it hurts, it’s really not his fault when he starts grinding against your knee in search of relief. you find it adorable, really, and smirk against his neck as you press your knee forward in an act of pity. a whimper slips from him and he ruts against you faster, more desperately, so desperately. he almost sobs because he was sure your actions would be as cruel as your words, but he’s too caught up in chasing his high to feel relieved or thankful. he focuses only on moving his hips, back and forth, back and forth, and holy shit, is he really about to cum already? in his pants, like some teenager?

he stops his movements, shaking with the effort of keeping still. with clammy hands, he hurries to undo his jeans, but you snatch them away and pin them to the wall. your curled lips indicate that you understand the situation just fine without an explanation, yet you still have the audacity to say, “what’s the matter? don’t you wanna cum?” your tone all flowery and pure as you pick up where he left off, mercilessly rubbing his cock through the fabric.

“no, no, no, fuck,” eren chokes out, even as he betrays himself by meeting your knee halfway, but he just can’t stop! his peak is drawing closer and closer and his downward motions just get harder and faster. it feels so good and he’s so, so close–

“don’t cum yet.”

eren’s first thought is: how the fuck is he supposed to do that? but then his second thought is: why would he listen to you anyway? what authority do you have over him? and yet what comes out of his mouth is, “please–”

“begging so soon?” you say against his lips. “that’s sweet, it really is.” you let go of his wrists and trail your hands down his arms to his chest, then over a nipple experimentally, grinning when you feel it pebble under your light touch. you give it some more attention, circling and rubbing it through the fabric until eren’s hands are clutching your shoulders and he’s curling in on himself trying to escape the foreign sensation. he never thought that part of his body could feel... good?

you suddenly pinch and twist it and eren whines. the pain is sharp, and yet that’s what has his orgasm returning. with only a few more grinds against your knee, it’s hitting him fast, from all angles, and the thing he’s been dreading finally comes true. he soaks his underwear with cum, hot and sticky and disgusting. he moans weakly, digging his blunt fingernails into your shoulders as his head raises up against the door.

you sigh, disappointed. “i didn’t say you could cum.”

eren is standing there, trying to catch his breath and too out of it to respond to you, when you suddenly grab him through his pants. his back arches at the overstimulation and you’re smiling because of course you are as your hand massages over his bulge and the horrid squelching sounds remind him of his shame. he tries to get away from the stimulation, gasping out, “stop, stop, stop!” but when you don’t hear that lovely ‘please’ you only quicken your ministrations.

“you’re such a pervert, eren,” you taunt, soft and sultry, as if you weren’t humiliating him with your words. “cumming in your pants from having your nipples played with? and it’s only been like, what, a minute?”

his cheeks turn pink, his eyebrows knit together, and all he can say is a shaky, “shut up.”

you snicker. “aw, don’t be embarrassed. it’s cute! you’re just like a virgin.”

“i’m not a virgin,” he croaks out, and it’s true, but you pretend to be unconvinced so you can watch him rush to make you believe him while his face blooms a darker shade of pink and his cock hardens at your touch — or maybe your words? either way, you continue palming him until his defiant expression fades, until it’s replaced by parted lips and hooded eyes.

then you pull away, just as he’s starting to buck into your palm. you relish the way he looks at you, so questioning and betrayed. you wish you could see what other faces you can get him to make, but now that you’ve given him a taste, you intend to take it all away. it’s the funnest part of this all; leaving him wanting after planting the seed of what could be into his mind, letting him continue with his life of hook-ups and one-night-stands before he inevitably comes running back to you. it would be so easy now to lose your patience and ravage him like a starved man, sure, but that takes away the fun in taking him apart piece by piece. you’ve come all this way; it would be a shame not to savour it.

“why did you stop?”

there it is, you think, and you can’t help smiling. “you told me to,” you answer as you take a step back. eren stands there, the start of a protest falling from his lips. you don’t wait for him to finish, instead reaching for your shirt and putting it back on.

“hey,” eren scoffs and grabs your arm. “you can’t just leave.” his tone is light-hearted, but you can tell he’s being serious, and that it’s more like a plea rather than the statement it’s phrased as.

“oh, can’t i?” you say, raising an eyebrow. “why not?”

eren looks at you, then his crotch. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him this lost for words.

you just laugh through your nose, like he’s told a bad joke. “this is your punishment, eren. you should remember it next time you think about disobeying me.” you wave your hand for him to move, but he lingers, so you give him a pointed look, a silent demand. he steps out of the way and you open the door. “see you in class on monday,” you say over your shoulder before shutting the door behind you.

standing there with his heart still pounding with adrenaline, eren realises that he was right before; your actions are as cruel as your words, crueller even, he just guessed too soon. he should be livid — you’ve left him covered in hickeys, with an aching boner and cum that’s still warm in his pants — but all he can think about is two words: next time. even after days have passed, he doesn’t stop thinking about them. he clings to them like a lifeline, every day and every class with you after that; turning those words over, listening to the echo of your voice in his mind, the way your lips moved around those two bittersweet syllables. he thinks about them for an entire three weeks before they finally come into existence thanks to a class assignment that gets the two of you paired up.

you avoid inviting him over too soon, purposely offering to meet up at cafés and the campus library. at first, they were nothing more than that: just doing actual work for the assignment. but soon enough, you start to tease and distract him; a foot skimming his inner calf one too many times to be an accident, a hand on his thigh that rubs up and down but never more. it’s torture, yet eren feels giddy at the prospect of it leading up to something more, every single time, wondering if this will be the time you go further.

there’s one time he’s sure you will. it starts out innocent, you asking him to get a book that’s too high up for you. as he reaches for it, his shirt lifts up, revealing a strip of his v-line and the waistband of his boxers, how the edge of skin above it is slightly paler, where his tan didn’t reach...

it’s gone as soon as it appears and usually your thoughts would vanish with it — except the aisle happens to be dowsed in shadows from a broken light and the closest person around is on the other side of the library. so instead of your urges slipping away, it’s your self-restraint, and rather than taking the book, you take his wrist. then you pin him to wall and use your other hand to push his lips into yours, all in one fell swoop. the intensity with which you kiss him and the way you have him pressed against the wall brings him back to that night. he kisses back just as passionately, all slippery saliva and clashing teeth. he’s sweating already, hot with the thrill of what else you’re willing to do, how far you’re willing to go in a public place like this. would you touch him? make him cum in his pants? leave him hard?

a hand clutching onto your shirt brings you back to your senses. you pull away and eren tries to chase your lips, but you catch his jaw before he can. he’s still panting from the residual excitement of earlier. his eyes stare at you, puppy-like in the way they speak a silent plea and twinkle with the reflection of the library ceiling lights behind you. you just smile and pet his spit-slick lips with a thumb, the gentle touch distracting him long enough for you to grab the book he’s still holding and step back. “thanks,” you say, gesturing to the book before walking away.

just seconds ago, eren’s mind was racing with thoughts, but as he stares at your retreating back, his only thought is that you really are cruel — and yet it is that thought, and that moment, that replay in his head that very night as he’s roughly pumping his cock and cumming in his underwear, if only to pretend you forced him to, just like back then. he’s pathetic, he knows that, but at the same time, it’s all he can do. he just feels so... he doesn’t even know what to call it, but it has him drooling after everything you do. he’s never felt this way about anyone. he’s only ever slept around with people, too afraid of committment for even friends with benefits or a situationship. he’s not even all that great with friendships, with only two friends he’s been lucky enough to have by his side since childhood, and a few guys he talks to and has lunch with at uni, but never actually hangs out with outside of class. but you? you have something that makes him want to stay, to keep going after you; you’re the reason he hasn’t slept with anyone since the party. he’s tried to, but it’s just not the same. he feels like you’ve ruined him for everyone else. that’s why he has no other choice but to fuck his fist after every meet-up with you, imagining it as your fist while the words you left him with loop in his head.

it isn’t until over halfway through the project that eren’s pining finally reaches its peak with a single message:

let’s work at my place today, usual time

the way it’s not a question does something to him, which is when he realises how pent-up he is. he knows he shouldn’t get his hopes up, but by the time he reaches your dorm, he’s already half-hard. he wipes his sweaty hands off on his tee and adjusts himself in his sweatpants before knocking on your door. when you open it, you’re in nothing but a t-shirt and shorts, legs bare and feet clad in slippers.

“you’re early,” you say as eren strolls inside.

he scoffs. “not on purpose,” he says, hoping you don’t see through his façade (you do). he slides his hands into his pockets and takes a look around your room. various shelves and decoration on your walls, reflecting your interests; memorabilia and clutter on different surfaces and furniture. some clothes thrown over your desk chair, a few plants and books. there’s a scent in the air too, not too strong but prominent and uniquely you.

“when you’re done snooping around my room like a creep,” you call out from your bed, “we should get on with the assignment.” your fingers clack away on your laptop keyboard for a bit before looking at eren. “i know the deadline’s next friday but i’d rather get it done as soon as, y’know?”

eren’s stomach drops. he completely forgot the real reason he was invited here; the innocent reason he was invited here. your tone was casual, gave no indication that you knew, yet as he stands there in front of you, he feels like you’re in his head. do you know the effect you had on him at the party? the effect you continue to have on him? shit, eren thinks, as he clenches and unclenches his fists. he wants to respond, play it off cool and act like he only agreed to come so enthusiastically because he cares about his grades, but his mind is blank.

“cat got your tongue?” you tease, shifting into a position that has you face-on to eren. then you slide to the edge of the bed and lean forward. “why so quiet, jaeger? that’s not like you, your loud mouth usually always has something to say.” those scrutinising eyes scan him from head to toe. slowly. “and where are all the materials anyway? the ones you were meant to bring? for the assignment?”

he feels caught, trapped like prey, and with every few-second flick of your eyes, every purposely chosen word and perfectly timed pause, he feels himself get smaller and smaller.

“don’t tell me,” you start, but with those three words alone, eren already knows his fate has been sealed, “you thought we wouldn’t actually be doing the assignment?” you’re smiling now, the same smile you had in that bathroom three weeks ago as you palmed him through his cum-soaked pants. “what did you think we were going to do, huh? please, tell me...” your eyes narrow into slits and your lips stretch out in a smile, showing off teeth that flash like a predator’s. “i am so curious.”

you’re pushing his buttons, making him feel like the desperate one, and maybe he is, but could you blame him? eren just wants another taste of what you gave him at the party, and most of all, he wants you. he realises that maybe you really did just send that text with the intention of working on the assignment, but there’s no denying that in this moment, that’s not what this is; in this moment, you’re nudging him forward after toying with his sexual frustration, and in this moment, eren decides to put a stop to it.

he stomps forward until he’s looming over you, a sharp scowl twisting his features. “stop playing dumb, (name). you know damn well what you were doing when you sent me that text,” he snarls, sea green eyes stormy and narrowed. “i’m done with these games, alright? if you’re not going to take responsibility for making me like this, then– then i will.” he almost falters from the weight of your eyes, the way they just sit there, waiting and unfazed, but he steels his composure. “you’re just a brat anyway,” he says, leaning in. “all you really want is for someone to put you back in your place.”

that smile hasn’t left; hasn’t so much as twitched. in the position you’re in, you’re looking up at him, but the way you’re doing it makes it feel as though eren is the one looking up, the one being looked down on. “well... you’re right about me knowing what i was doing,” you admit, “but the rest? not so much. not for me, anyway.” you trace the collar of eren’s t-shirt with your fingertips, drag your palm down his chest...

you suddenly bunch up the fabric and yank it with a tight fist. your other hand catches eren’s shoulder and keeps him steady as his palms land on either side of you, knees bent and head in the crook of your neck. “come now, jaeger. do you really think i’m the brat in this situation?” you say softly, your breath warm and your lips featherlight as they graze his ear lobe. “put me back in my place?” you giggle quietly and it reverberates through eren’s skull like a thunder clap. “does that really sound like something you want to do to me?” he can feel the way you smile against the shell of his ear, the wetness of your teeth. “or is that just the only way you know how to ask for something to be done to you?”

eren is hidden in your neck yet he feels completely exposed. he wants to mask the way your words make his breathing stutter, but when you’re this close, even he knows it’s no use. all he can do is stay right where he is, frozen in a mixture of embarrassment and anticipation.

you shove eren back and he crumbles to the floor on all fours. “that’s more like it.” you tilt your head at him as he sits up on his knees. “doesn’t this feel so much better?”

eren doesn’t want to admit it, not even to himself, but it does feel better. his gaze drops to his lap in shame but that’s where he sees the even more shameful bulge that’s formed between his legs. he instinctually covers it up, but he’s too late, and his attempt at hiding it only confirms what you already know. you reach over and angle his head up by his chin. you have an unimpressed expression on your face, but your eyes contrast it with their fiery intrigue. “wow, eren,” you say through an amused sigh as you lean in close to his face. “are you seriously hard right now?”

he swallows nervously and presses his thighs together. his breathing is already faltering in his chest, but he tries to keep it steady as he replies, “you can’t blame me. you’ve been teasing me ever since you left me at the party. just like this.”

a hand yanks his head back by his hair and eren is unable to stop the moan that escapes him. he chews on his lip as you sneer down at him. “being left like that was exactly what you deserved,” you mutter, then you raise your eyebrows, feigning a contemplative expression, “but maybe another, harsher punishment is what you need to learn your lesson, hm?”

eren’s dick twitches and he would’ve nodded too, if he didn’t register at the last minute that punishments aren’t meant to be enjoyed.

you catch it anyway, and scoff. “of course, you’d like that, you fucking whore.” you let go of his hair and lean back. eren stares at you, confused, until you pat your lap. “sit,” you tell him. your posture is relaxed, in contrast to his, which tenses as he straddles your lap, resting his hands on your shoulders. your eyes widen and you smile incredulously. “i guess leaving you like that wasn’t entirely useless, huh?” you laugh to yourself and massage along his hips and thighs before finally tugging the waistband of his sweatpants down, slowly, along with his underwear. a shudder runs down eren’s spine at the touch of cool air on his skin. his hard cock bumps against his abdomen, leaving behind a shiny smudge of precum. you tap his wet tip and draw circles around it, making eren hiss and briefly dig his nails into your shoulders.

“don’t–” he stops himself when you glance up at him.

your eyebrows raise. “what was that?” you ask, but he just swallows and remains silent. “use your manners, baby. you’ve done it once before, so i know you can.” your other hand snakes under his t-shirt and caresses his side. “don’t get shy now. if you’re cute enough, i might give you a reward.”

eren shifts in your lap. there’s a pause. then, “please.”

you chuckle. “come on, ‘ren,” you say, “you can do better than that.”

he looks exasperated, but tries again anyway. “please,” he repeats. “please just– just touch me. please.”

he makes it too easy to tease him, you think, as you grin wickedly. “but i’m touching you right now, aren’t i?”

eren groans. “yes but– you’re not–” he jumps as you dip your nail gently into his slit. “fuck, just put your hand around my cock please.”

you surprise him by doing exactly that, a loud moan being torn out of him. your grip is tight as you drag your fingers down his length, spreading his precum. with how pent up he’s been, eren feels like he’s close already. his body tingles with pleasure and anticipation. it’s almost too much, yet not enough, the way you slide your hand up then down, up then down, steady and unrushed. just as eren is about to ask you to go faster, you rotate your hand over his leaking tip and he chokes on his words. you do it again, and again, before returning to your previous motions. you repeat this, changing your pace a few times, just to watch him squirm, before resuming your steady pumping. eren begins to wonder if you’re waiting for him to beg more, if you’ll just keep doing this until he asks you to go faster, but the next time you change your pace, it’s fast and doesn’t stop, just goes even faster. eren stumbles over his breaths. he’s relieved, but at the same time it’s too fast. “fuck, slo– slow down,” he says in a strangled voice. he is hurtling toward his orgasm, he’s definitely not going to last. shit, how were you able to go so fast and hard at the same time? it felt like he was on fire. he’s so–

you stop.

a single meek drop of precum trickles down eren’s dick.

“no–” he groans. “what the fuck? why did– why didn’t you–”

“did you forget already?” you interrupt, grinning from ear to ear. eren’s lips remain pursed in frustration. “this is your punishment, remember?”

a range of emotions pass over eren’s face: realisation, horror, anger, desperation, self-pity. you watch his inner conflict set aflame, how he looks down at his aching dick, how his fingers twitch and one hand even goes as far as to dip down to try and touch himself, but you grab it and place it back around your neck. “only i get to touch you, and only i will decide when you get to cum,” you tell him and eren curses under his breath but stays put. from there, you go back to touching him. you bring him to the edge, over and over, abusing your knowledge of all his weak spots, squeezing and rubbing and pumping vigourously for what must be at least eight times; until his speech is slurred and his pleas are barely intelligible.

when you let go for the final time, you hear him sniffle against your neck.

“that bad, huh?” you mumble, mostly to yourself. you slip your hands beneath his shirt and trace the smooth plains of his torso, up and down, feeling the muscles ripple and writhe from the barely-there touch. “okay,” you say, “you’ve been good, so i’ll reward you now.” his hips jut out violently and grind against your stomach. you grab his drenched cock and suck your teeth in disapproval. “don’t ruin it by getting too greedy now, eren.”

he stares at you, turquoise irises engulfed in black pupils, and licks his lips. “what’s my reward?”

you just smile. “you’ll find out soon enough,” you answer. you pull up his waistband and snap it against his sensitive cock, making him yelp. “first, i want you to get up and take off your clothes.”

eren is eager and obeys quickly, making a show of it as he does; flexing his muscles a little more than necessary, his movements slow and sensual and tempting because that’s just how he’s done this every time before this. but the sooner that usual ego of his rises, the sooner it falls, because once he’s down to his last item of clothing — his boxers — he just stands there like he doesn’t know what to do next. he does, of course, but he’s feeling what seems like dread at the idea of being completely naked in front of you. not because he’s insecure, but the fact that it’s you he’s showing it to; you with your fox grins and cruel, humiliating words, your rough treatment and watchful eyes... fuck, just the thought is making him harder, and then even harder as he wonders if you can see it. will you point it out? will you make fun of him? call him names?

eren jumps when you graze his crotch with the end of your foot. “having second thoughts?” you say, teasing but serious all the same.

“no,” he says without hesitating.

“then go on.” you lift your foot and eren tenses in anticipation, but you just grin wider and point to the head of his dick, peering out slightly from his boxers, without touching it. “don’t keep me waiting.”

he slides the waistband down his thighs and lets it drop to his feet, then steps out and tosses the garment aside. you’re still fully clothed and relaxed while you look him up and down. eren slides a hand over the top of his hair, pushing away the fallen strands. he thought he felt exposed earlier, but now it’s even worse. your eyes are practically devouring him, but you can’t help it. the way he’s standing there, completely nude while you aren’t, waiting for your next command while staring at you with those dark aqua eyes from under pretty dark eyelashes. no number of late-night fantasising would do this sight justice, yet you wonder if you can make it even better. you wonder if you can push him just a little bit further, see how much more you can bend him before he breaks.

“you look nervous, eren,” you say. “are you sure you–”

“yes! yes, i’m sure,” he all but gasps out.

you arch an eyebrow at his interruption. “i was going to say are you sure you want this? are you sure you want me?” you clarify. “for all i know, you’re just a slut who’ll pounce on anyone. how do i know i’m not just a set of holes to you, hm?”

eren frowns. “no, that’s not–” he steps closer to you and sinks to his knees in front of you. “i only want you, (name). no one...” his cheeks flush hot and he looks away from your eyes. “no one else could fuck me as good as you.”

it’s not the entire truth and you know that. you’ve always been good at reading people. though eren may be better than the average person at lying, around you? all of that depletes and he becomes an open book. “and how would you know that?” you say as you lean back on your palms.

“i don’t,” eren says as he places his hands on your knees, “but maybe you can show me?”

it’s pathetic yet so beautiful to see a man like eren jaeger like this: on his knees and at your disposal. it’s almost a shame you couldn’t get here sooner, but you’ve always believed in delayed gratification, in trusting the process and the like; that’s why you adore men like him, who’ve only ever been doms and have never even considered anything else. it’s so much fun to string them along, allow them to unknowingly fall into a false sense of security, to make them think you’re just another obedient little sub, and how once you’ve built that up enough, breaking them is all the sweeter.

the shift of you leaning forward makes eren sit up. he’s not sure what he’s expecting, but you gently petting his hair definitely isn’t it. he melts, dropping his head and resting his cheek against your knee, just like you thought he would. after all, you noticed that pushing back loose hair is a nervous tic of his, and so naturally this kind of touch comforts him. you smile fondly at that.

the tender moment is broken by eren humping your leg. you’re not sure if he even realises he’s doing it. his eyes are shut and he’s whimpering like a dog. the grasp he has around your knees tightens. “eren,” you say to him and he seems to regain some awareness, stopping his movement and looking up at you. “would you like your reward?”

he breathes out like he’s been holding it. “please.”

you pat the space behind you. “come lay down.”

he does so and you wait for him to get comfortable before perching yourself on his lap. you begin by sliding your hands up his torso and back down again, tracing the dips and curves of his body. you litter kisses from his neck to his collarbone and chest. your breath ghosts over a nipple and eren shivers. you take a second to smile before flicking your tongue over the dark pink bud. his chest raises off the bed and into your mouth as you latch onto the nub and swirl your tongue around it. your hand makes work of his other nipple and eren’s hips buck into you. a string of spit forms and snaps as you pull away and resume your path down his torso, pecking down his belly, hip and finally, his inner thigh. you feel eren squirm as your cool breaths hit his drooling cock. you flatten your tongue and lick up from the base, kissing the tip wetly before taking it into your mouth and sucking hard. eren throws his head back and moans, fallen strands fanning out against the pillows. his hips are restless, so you hold them down while you slide down to the base, then back up to suck on the tip again. your motions are smooth, aided by saliva and precum, as you begin to bob your head up and down his length.

eren’s fingers find your hair and cling there. you break away to mutter a cautionary, “easy,” then swallow down his cock again, moving quicker now. with how you’ve been teasing and edging him, you suspect that he’ll cum soon. his sounds get higher and louder, more frequent, and every so often the hands on your head flinch or scratch or curl.

“i’m close, i’m close,” eren warns through laboured breaths. his skin is damp with sweat, long strands sticking to his forehead in curled shapes. “please le– let me cum.”

you answer him by not stopping, by using your hand to pump the bottom half of his cock while continuing to suck on the rest with hollowed cheeks and wet lips.

“fuck, m’gonna c– ah! fuck, please let– please!” his back arches, sheets peeling off his skin before he collapses again, abdomen contracting. “please say i can–” his nails dig into your scalp as he moans, drawn out and loud. hot fluid fills up your mouth and throat. you swallow and don’t cease moving until eren is pawing at your face and mumbling about how it’s too much. afterwards, unable to hold back your teasing nature, you give a few kitten licks to his reddened tip, enjoying how it makes him whine and jolt.

“i take it you liked your reward then?” you say, pushing away the stringy hair around his cheeks and forehead.

“yeah,” eren pants, and as he’s lying there, all blissed out and in the process of winding down from his high, you’re gazing down at him in a way he’s only been able to dream of until now and he realises that sure, blowjobs aren’t anything special or revolutionary, but everything leading up to it is what made it so amazing, you are what made it so amazing. you’re everything he didn’t know he wanted, the key that unlocked his hidden desires, and even if you were to leave him hard and aching for your touch again, even if you teased him to no end and laughed at him and called him names, he’d still come back if you gave him the chance because he loves it. he loves you.

you lean in and kiss eren; delicately, kindly, with care and a gentle want, a peaceful want reserved for lovers, because somewhere along the way you started to develop feelings for him. eren had only hoped for such a thing, thought that it was wishful thinking and delusion that gave him the impression you might feel the same way. maybe you didn’t at the beginning; maybe it started out as just lust, but right now you love him and he loves you. the lust is still there, but it’s soft now, and so much more than it was.

notes. couldn’t help making it soft at the end! i’ve reread this so many times i genuinely have no idea if it’s good but i hope you enjoyed it<3

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myeagleexpert · 3 months

Text

𝕸𝖞 𝕳𝖔𝖑𝖞 𝕷𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙

Yandere ex bad boy x reader When a former bad boy gets out of prison and finds you, the light of his life, he decides he would never let you go again.

cw: delusional yandere, creppy, clingy, no use of yn, reader is stressed and doesn't love yandere but is with him just because he's a stress reliever, the straight-laced girl gets involved with an ex badboy, use of pet names “princess , love”, stalking, insecurity, thoughts of getting married, beginning of a relationship, religious themes at the beginning (youth meeting), very soft at the beginning because the longer you stay together the more he develops an obsession.

"I will marry you". You would be grateful to hear this from a long-term relationship….but hearing this on the first day of your first official relationship?? Who would have the audacity to ask you that??

Marc, your new boyfriend. He is of average height, with shaved hair and thin. You met him by inviting him to a youth meeting at your church, and since he wanted to embrace his new good guy phase, he clearly went. And it wouldn't take long for you to regret that decision.

Marc is strangely strange, like a criminal in interrogation, already anticipating the argument he would have with the lawyer. He has an anxious look on his face every time you meet, and the pressure he has placed on his shoulders to be the “perfect boyfriend” requires him to be honest with you. Everyone knows and feels that pleasant and cozy atmosphere when a couple gets to know each other more and more, opening up little by little, leaving themselves vulnerable to the person their heart burns so much but…. I don't want to ruin this phase, but… he opened up about his past and it totally changed your image of him. How messing with delinquent people influenced him, how he left his family and ran away from home, how his other two serious relationships were toxic and abusive and hurt him psychologically, how he spent time in jail when they caught him with drugs , how he abandoned the will to live….

Until he met you and everything changed.

“You are the light of my life” “I only see my future by your side”

Of all the years he appeared in your life, he appeared just when you were killing yourself studying for a place at the college of your dreams! How much sacrifice! So much pressure! So much stress! The year you followed an intense study routine and practically isolated yourself from the world to study was the year he appeared…as a distraction.

You were so stressed that you needed a distraction on your side. After all, you need to live your youth too, don’t you? It won't be anything serious, you don't have time for that princess, it will just be a momentary relief, just a little flig.

Not if it's up to him.

In fact, you "met" in high school, from different classes, he uses and insists on this argument every time you say that you haven't known each other long enough. "But we never spoke….". "But we talked through our eyes!" You swear you can count on the fingers of your left hand how many times you've actually seen him.

Upon leaving the cold and degrading prison and feeling completely lost, he prayed to the heavens about what direction to ask for in life and coincidentally your profile appeared on his Instagram!

"As soon as I saw your profile, I knew you were different and would change my life" he tells the story of how he met his precious girlfriend for the millionth time, with the same dreamy sigh as always.

He spent 8 months just observing you, what you like and what you don't like, following you, your friends and family on all social networks, he discovered your favorite books and read each one of them trying to be the one you admire most, he discovered where you buy your favorite perfumes and bought the ones you liked the most, to know how you felt and all that… thrown out the window. Because every time Marc looks at you, he forgets everything, the world goes blank and his focus is absolutely you.

He forgets the beautiful words he thought when he was going home, he forgets the way the heartthrob in his book convinced the girl to give him an innocent kiss on the cheek, or how he rehearsed in the mirror how to hold her hand and kiss her without looking so awkward, Marc forget that he has to breathe to continue living but frankly he prefers to be in your air, breathe your oxygen. He also forgets that he had other relationships and shouldn't be so nervous around you.

“Then I said-…hey, I can feel your gaze from here.” “Am I staring at you a lot?? Aah sorry, you’re so beautiful that I couldn’t resist.” he says while kissing your cheek and interrupting anything that would come out of your mouth.

Marc desires to be a devoted follower of his goddess, you. But most of the time it fails miserably. He is in such a trance that he forgets everything and even though the eyes of a passionate puppy that he looks at you with seem cute, you are not guilty of feeling offended. He forgets your favorite place to go out, he forgets your favorite snack, he forgets that sweets make you feel calmer in tpm, he forgets that you canceled a date and gets sulky afterwards blaming you, he forgets that you have bigger goals clear and more important than him and most importantly, he forgets that you have a life before him and whenever you mention an ex-boyfriend he's like "What do you mean you had a boyfriend before me? Who is he? Why did they break up?" So that I don't make the same mistakes he did so that I find him and threaten him to never even look at him again.

and for you so I can make you feel guilty for still having his contact so it's just me and you in the world

Marc is strangely strange, have you ever seen a bear hiding behind a lamp post? So is his jealousy. His blood boils every time you mention a name that isn't his, his body screams mine mine mine, to possessively squeeze your waist and his mouth kisses you until the princess's stressed little head forgets that useless name what you just said after all, I'm the one next to you and I bet he can't make you feel good like I do but…. he hides it well, sometimes, when he forces it. But it's so fking hard to disguise it!

"I met a friend of mine today" "Friend, what friend? A man?" "Then he said- "But wait, love - sorry to interrupt you - since when and where have you known him?" Wasn't this friend of yours on his list where he came from? "I met him in my first year of high school, love, he moved away after that, and I met him again now" " And you hugged him? "Of course, like I do with everyone-" "whyyyyyy?" “Marc he’s my friend and-” “And do you remember his name?”- He asked something simple but that had a strong and heavy meaning behind it.

the name. the name is something so simple but so important, isn’t it?

In a random dawn, he realized that the little princess didn't remember people's names very well and when asked, you replied “They're not important to me, just some extras interacting with me” and while you sleepy laughed at theory made on the spot, his heart squeezed as he remembered that you often forgot his name too.

I'm not so important that you remember my name?

In a random dawn, you told him that you had had other relationships before him, but you never felt anything for them, so you ended it and left and forgot about them. Others, which were hidden and you did crazy things in love for them, regretted them and never saw them again. And that he was your first official boyfriend, the first you took home, the first you took to meet your parents and family, the first you took to your hiding place in the house. He. But as quickly as pride filled his heart, his mind fed the uncertainties and insecurities that keep him awake at night.

Would you live love adventures with him too? Would you regret loving him? Do you have feelings for him or is it a one-sided relationship? Would you forget about him? Would you trade it for one night? Would you… leave?

Marc is so strangely strange that he sometimes blurts out strange and chilling phrases every time you try to subtly open his eyes about the relationship, and in his head they are sweet and romantic, passionate and sincere declarations always sealing the promise with kisses and hugs that are increasingly hard and possessive, but they are red signs in your eyes that something is wrong.

“I don’t know if I could handle that either.” You said as you casually gossiped about a breakup between a couple you saw on the internet, without realizing it Marc's eyes darkened when he heard the word breakup "Listen, if we broke up I…"

"Baby, you know that if it's up to me, we'll never breakup, right?" With a determined look, Marc pulled you onto his lap

"Of course, dear, but if what you did…"

"I would come to your house, take you and lock you away from the world. Because if that's the case, you would never leave me."

"Whoa boy, a little bird wasn't meant to be trapped." When you felt the sincerity of Marc's words, you tried to leave your dear boyfriend's lap, demonstrating that you were serious about the matter, this fact did not go unnoticed by him as he smiled at you and with hearts in his eyes, he kissed you madly until you was breathless and again and again and again….he put you in a bridal carry position, pressing you against his chest with such force that it left you sore

"So i cut the bird's wings and we stay together, love, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. We will never break up, remember what I told you? Let's get married, my beautiful darling."

#tw yandere #yandere boy #yanderecore #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #clingy yandere #delusional #red aesthetic #my ocs #oc yandere #infelizmente inspirado em fatos reais #yn girl

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jen-with-a-pen · 3 months

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Dancing in the Kitchen

summary: After the worst night imaginable, your best friend helps you when you need him most. What you don't realize is just how much you've always needed him. or: Tony Dumps you. Steve picks you up and puts you back together.

parings: protective!best friend!Steve Rogers x best friend!f!Reader

word count: 4.9k

warnings: fluff, angst, self-doubt and insecurity, verbally abusive relationship elements, insults + language/name calling, reader cusses and so does Steve bc he can, no smut!, wearing Steve's clothes (very little to no description about reader's body so do with that what you will), intense feelings, confessions, crying, anxiety, best friends to lovers, intimate touch, VERY SLIGHT possessiveness, protectiveness, not Tony Stark friendly, cap quartet mention

a/n: these characters are out of college! It's set in their early-mid 20s following graduating and I thought it'd be a little more relatable (also since I'm not in college anymore I wanted this specific fic concept to be more relatable. self-indulgence and stuff). the cap quartet rent a house together. there might be more shenanigans in the future involving them. maybe. who knows? enjoy <3

If I've missed any tags, please let me know!

gif by @annislittleshopofhorrors | dividers by @saradika-graphics | warning banner by me ♥

my ao3 | my masterlist Read this fic HERE on ao3! ♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always♥

Everything was cold.

Everything was ruined.

Everything was a fucking nightmare.

Dark clouds shrouded the night sky, hiding helpful moonlight. Rain pelted at you from above, mixing with fresh tears, drenching you to the bone as cold water collected on your skin and soaked through your dress. Your hands morphed into balled fists at your sides as you shook with rage, heartbreak, and the innate need to punch something.

You couldn’t wrap your pounding head around the events of the night; everything blurred together after ten o’clock. It was like a cruel joke, one where you waited an eternity for the punchline, begging for it not to be real no matter how hard you screwed your eyes shut and prayed.

You didn’t want to believe it, yet there you were.

It sure as hell wasn’t the first time you found yourself standing at the backdoor of Steve Roger’s house on the cusp of a breakdown– and a breakup– warring with your own body to simply knock on the fucking door. Hell, Steve was already expecting you. He knew something was wrong the second you called; there wasn’t a warning text, just you, asking in a choked-up whisper if he was home. His response spilled out in a rushed ‘yes’ before you could explain further. A ‘no questions asked’ request, something not uncommon in your friendship. Steve, since day one, was one of your main sources of comfort within a thousand mile radius.

Now, he was your only source of comfort within a thousand mile radius.

Remnants of the phone call from Tony only minutes earlier echoed in your eardrums like a bad case of tinnitus. Annoying, repetitive. His hoarse, drunken slurry of vicious words clawed at the inside of your skull. Another fight. Another screaming match. Another forgotten birthday– this time, it included meeting your family. You’d planned it for months prior, making sure Tony knew not to forget it.

Your insides were twisting in knots as you waited at the restaurant awkwardly with your parents, brother, and an empty seat next to you. After an hour, eight failed calls and fifteen texts later, Tony finally picked up. Delight revived the few butterflies left in your stomach, only to be crushed, turning them into weighted dread as loud club music obliterated your ear drum as he shouted at you.

“You bitch!” he spat. “Why the ever-loving f-fuck are y’blowin’ up my phone for?!”

You didn’t have time to process what he was saying before he’d already reloaded and shot you with more.

“What the hell is sooooo important? Huh? Y-you stupid bitch! You fuckin’ knew I’m busy t’night!”

You tore the phone away. Even at arm’s length, you, and the rest of your family, could hear every single thing he spewed at you. A couple from the table next to yours stopped mid-bite to turn and throw rude looks at you and your family.

“Tony, please, I–”

“‘Tony please’– just shut up!” he mocked. “Just shut the fuck up! I don’t fuckin’ care what you gotta– what you have t’say! I can’t f–fuckin’ stand you anymore!”

Hurt and hunger morphed into churning waves of anxiety and embarrassment. Your throat was closing. Tears began stinging your eyes. You looked between your parents in shame, meeting their stunned looks filled with pity and disappointment. Your brother refused to look anywhere but the spot on his plate where he played with his food, sadness and second-hand embarrassment plaguing his face.

Yelling, jeering, and chanting echoed out of your phone. Tony didn’t stop.

“Y’know what? I’m not doin’ this anymore,” he slurred, gulping some unknown liquid down, swallowing, gagging. More cheering. “We– we’re fuckin’ done. You’re out. I’m done.”

The other line fumbled. You winced as you heard Tony wet his lips, preparing the final blow. His breathing became heavy, ragged, hard enough you could smell the liquor through the phone.

“Fuckin’ cunt.”

Click.

You loathed yourself for tolerating him; the endless cycle of poisoning you, providing the antidote, and taking it away when it seemed to get better. The whiplash from his unpredictable moods and personal attacks on you hurt as bad as it felt when he’d come around with endless apologies– accompanied by flowers, cuddles, and kisses– to heal each wound he was responsible for.

This time, though, the stab was fatal. This time, you bled out; it’d been akin to getting gutted and hung helplessly in front of your fucking family.

A sob snuck its way up your throat. You choked it down, willing your fist to reach up and knock on the door. You didn’t understand why this was next to impossible. Steve was your best friend. It wasn’t like he was a stranger. It wasn’t like he’d chastise you or yell at you or tell you to fuck off. Yet, there was a fear, deep down, feeding on the anxiety and self-doubt in the pit of your stomach, telling you the opposite; it whispered to you, telling you to run back to your car, scream into the steering wheel, and speed off to disappear from everything and everyone for just a little longer. It’d only be until you got your head on straight, until you figured out what to do with the apartment and your classes and your stuff and–

Knock. knock. knock.

In the blur of a million thoughts racing through your mind, you automatically reached up and weakly knocked, body tensing every muscle as you waited.

The door swung open, revealing one extremely concerned Steve Rogers.

Steve panted, a result from sprinting down the stairs from his upstairs bedroom in an attempt to open the back door by your first knock. Acutely aware of his jaw hanging from its hinges, Steve’s soft baby blues bore into you, scanning you up and down, stunned at you and your dress and how desperate you looked.

Time stopped the second you saw him; it was difficult to describe, but everything magnetizing between the two of you was different. You felt different– different in the way he was familiar and somehow new at the same time. Steve felt different– different in the way you were single for the first time in two years and he was single since… forever ago.

This time was unlike the million other times.

You both stared. Your lips quivered, his parted in disbelief. Both your minds instantly went blank, unable to think of anything to say, to do. So, the sky thought for you. It opened its floodgates, releasing a torrential downpour as you stood inches from warmth, from comfort.

“Steve,” you croaked, reaching for him.

It was then, everything came crashing down.

You crumbled to the ground in a heap, knees buckling while your hand and arms braced for impact with the ground. Steve quickly abandoned his tight grip on the doorframe, catching you, helping you inside. Lungs gasped for air as heavy sobs poured from your chest and tears flowed steadily down your face. You pawed at Steve’s arm hooked around you as he stumbled back into the house, kicking the door closed and collapsing onto the kitchen floor with you in tow. He immediately pulled you closer and hugged you tightly against his chest. You heaved, crying out from the painful pit in your heart, digging your fingers into his flesh, hard enough to bruise. You buried your face into his t-shirt and bawled.

All of it– the rage, the hurt, the mess of balled-up emotions from the last two fucking years– came unraveled. Hands twisted into Steve’s t-shirt, balling the fabric and pulling it taut enough to rip.

Steve didn’t shout. He didn’t complain. He didn’t utter a single word as he leaned against the kitchen cabinets, rocking you gently, squeezing you harder as his chest rose and fell rhythmically against your pounding skull, silently coaxing you to follow his breathing. Blubbering in his lap, stringing words together became futile as thoughts became unrecognizable. Another wave of panic and anxiety crashed over you. Steve’s mumbled shushes softened you; the deep timbre and honeyed bass of his voice and vibrations in his chest grounded you, welcoming you to safety. To home.

“Shh… don’t worry, I got you. I have you. You’re okay,” he muttered, running a hand gently up and down your back.

“I–he–bu–” you fumbled, lip quivering as another sob overtook you. Rage clawed at the walls in the chasm of your chest. You screamed. Guttural, pained. Again. And again.

“Shh… it’s okay, let it out. You’re okay. You’re safe here,” he soothed, rocking you, adding in a lowered octave, “I’m here.”

“T–Tony,” you hiccuped, fists twisting more of Steve’s t-shirt. “He–he–”

“What, angel? What about Tony?”

“He–he c–called me n–names a–and,” you shook your head violently, “he b-broke up with me. For real, this time.”

Steve cupped your cheek, softly wiping away fresh tears with calloused fingertips. While you continued to cry in his arms, his focus turned to the back door you tumbled through. Inside, he seethed; his rage nearly boiled over at the thought of anyone doing this to you, let alone Tony fucking Stark. Out of all the things you’d told him over the last couple years– all the threats, the cruel jokes and abandonment and insults– tonight was the ultimate cherry on top. It validated every time Tony’s actions made Steve think vengeful thoughts on what he’d do if he ever got five minutes with the douchebag. Just five minutes. Alone.

He shook the thought away, looking back down to you. The last thing he wanted was for you to see him upset, let alone remotely think you were the cause of it. He’d promised himself that the first time you met.

Tony was going to fucking pay for what he’d done to you every single second for the last two years. And on your birthday, for chrissake.

“What–” Steve swallowed the excess rage in his chest. “What kind of names, sweetie?”

You softened, sniffling, refusing to look at him. “He called me a b–bitch, a–and,” you bit your tongue, “a… cunt.”

The moment the word left your lips, Steve fought every last nerve in him not to put you to bed, get in his car, and go teach Tony a lesson on some fucking manners. Hell, even the idea of taking Bucky and Sam crossed his mind.

He pushed the thought away, focusing back on you. You needed him. You came to him for help. No one else but him.

Steve slid his hand off your back and placed it under your chin, thumb and forefinger gently coaxing you to look at him. Big blue eyes swam with concern and worry. In the dark of the kitchen, they seemed brighter than ever– a beacon guiding you back from the hurricane in your head.

In an instant, everything in your head went quiet. No more muffled echoes from the phone call. No more sobs readying to burst out your chest. No more caring about how swollen and puffy your eyes were, or the drying combination of mascara and tear stains running down your cheeks and neck. Your sopping wet dress that drenched the floor, and Steve, was pushed to the back of your brain, the cold no longer leaking into your bones as he brought you back down from the ledge.

All you saw was Steve. All you smelled, all you could feel, was Steve.

Steve swallowed. His jaw slacked, tongue jutting out to wet his lips, slowly drinking you in for as long as he was able.

And honestly? You couldn’t care enough to stop him. It’d been so long since someone looked at you the way Steve did.

Had he always looked at you like that?

“Listen to me. You are none of those things. Not even close,” he whispered, hoping you believed him.

You nodded lightly. “I–I know, but it hurts,” your voice cracked again, eyes drifting away from him.

“Hey, look at me,” he tugged at your chin, “you will never be anything like he says you are. Ever. Okay?”

You stared at him. A small smile pulled at the corners of your lips as you placed a hand on his, taking it from your chin to your chest. Warmth bloomed as it rested against your damp skin.

“‘Kay.” Barely a whisper. Enough for only him to hear.

He paused, gaze holding steady on you, lips twitching at the corners.

“Let’s get you up ‘n out of that thing, yeah?” He nodded to your dress. “You gotta be freezing.”

Gently, he lifted you off his lap, rising from the kitchen floor and pulling you up on your feet. Your legs felt like a wobbly blend of jelly and nerves that forced you to lean onto Steve for support. He anticipated this, catching you and gripping your shoulders. You didn’t say a word. Instead, you clung to him as he guided you through the living room and up the stairs to his bedroom. You passed by Sam and Bucky’s rooms, both empty for the night, just like Natasha’s downstairs.

As Steve rifled through his drawers and closet, your focus wandered to his messy desk: the lamp cast a soft, warm glow across the room, sitting next to history books and sketchbooks stacked high on top of one another; pencils and dirtied paint brushes littered the surface, products of his latest art assignment. His bed was half-made, dark green covers on one side neatly tucked in while the opposite was thrown aside, exposing gray pinstripe sheets. The walls were covered with scattered art– some his, others his favorite artists’– posters and pictures of family, friends, and some local bands. You bit back a smile. Memories of the shows you both went to over the last few years played like a highlight reel in your mind. You never regretted it; you never passed up a single invite, even after the time Tony locked you out for a whole weekend.

“Here, these are clean,” he handed you a neatly folded pile of his clothes before adding, “I promise.”

A fuller smile broke across your face. The first of the entire night.

“Uh huh, sure, I believe you,” you joked sarcastically. He feigned hurt, scoffing at your false accusation.

“I did the sniff test, if that makes you feel any better.”

You giggled, taking the clothes from him and turning to head to the bathroom.

“I’ll be down in the kitchen,” he called after you. “You, um, you want something to drink?”

You paused, turning to look at him from the bathroom doorway halfway down the hall. From where he stood, the saturated pink creeping up his neck and reaching his face was more visible than the light on his desk. You couldn’t help but hold in a snicker and flash him a relieved smile, thankful.

“Coffee would be a godsend, right now.”

Steve smiled, saluting you. “Coming right up.”

You headed into the bathroom, tossing the clothes onto the counter, slumping against the door the second you shut and locked it. Finally relaxing, you realized how much tension was pent up in your tired shoulders– which, in turn, prompted the realization you were holding your breath the entire time in Steve’s room.

Brushing the self-induced lightheadedness, you slipped the ruined dress off your body and hung it up on the shower rod. You hated the color, the texture, but wore it anyway. For Tony. On your birthday.

You cursed yourself, pulling your bra off next– a pushup that held your rib cage hostage the entire night. Just how Tony likes it.

Or, liked it.

You silently prayed Steve included some Bailey’s in your coffee.

Pulling on Steve’s sweatshirt, the scent of him enveloped you instantly. You couldn’t help but nuzzle into the neck of it, filling your lungs with the familiarity of Steve. He was a quiet, sunny Sunday morning and freshly brewed coffee. He was a nice night in watching your favorite movies and playing cards.

Your head was swimming, swirling, caught up in the entirety of your best friend. He was yours just as much as you were his. Through Tony, through other guys you’d subjected yourself to the last few years, none of them compared to Steve.

You tugged the sweatpants on, catching sight of yourself in the mirror and realizing the runny makeup staining your face. You snorted at how fucking ridiculous you looked, remembering the caked-on layers you’d put on for the evening. Again, just for Tony. The snort turned into a giggle, utterly grateful for Steve not making fun of how you looked and for ignoring the mascara stains on his poor t-shirt from earlier.

But, again, it was Steve. He’d never make fun of you. Ever.

Butterflies– the ones you’d thought were long gone months prior– stuttered suddenly, alive and fluttering in your stomach.

You instantly recognized the feeling: it was the same you had the day you met Steve.

The same feeling you’d get on roller coasters, or reading an exceptionally good romance novel. Giddiness, dizziness. It was as if you were spinning while the room stood still. Your head felt light, high on helium. Your skin burned. Meeting your own gaze in the mirror, you scanned yourself, the question ‘is this happening right now?’ running on a loop at the forefront of your mind.

Bzzt.

You jumped at the buzz of a text. With the trance broken, you took into account your shaking hands and the bumping tempo of your heart. Turning on the sink, you made sure the water was as cold as possible before cupping some in your hands and splashing your face. Refreshing. Needed. You rubbed the rest of the runny wakeup off your skin, stuffing your face into the fluffy hand towel and silently promising to get the boys a new one. Picking up your phone, teeth chewed on cheek to hold in your smile at the sight of Steve’s name on the screen.

⍟ Steve: You doing OK? Coffees ready

You looked at yourself in the mirror.

“You got this,” you told your reflection. “He’s only your best friend.”

The butterflies continued to multiply, bumping against one another, fluttering and escaping out into your chest and your limbs.

“Fuck.”

You opened the door.

⋆˙ઇଓ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

“I was beginning to think you climbed out the window up there,” Steve quipped upon seeing you round the corner into the kitchen. He couldn’t help the stupid grin spreading across his face when he saw you in his clothes. You looked more relaxed, more comfortable.

More like you.

You noticed he changed, too, donning a heather-gray t-shirt that clung to his torso in all the right ways– ways you hadn’t noticed before.

You mentally scolded yourself.

“A–Almost. But I’d never pass up a cup of world-famous Rogers Roast.”

“Wow, world-famous? I would’ve preferred universally-renowned, but I’ll take it.” He held a mug out to you, one faded with a ‘I ❤ New York’ logo– the one you’d gotten for him during your senior-year college internship. “Made it just how you like it.”

He paused as you took a sip. You could feel his eyes on you, watching you, biting his lip in anticipation as you drank. The coffee tasted like liquid gold, warm and comforting and all-around delicious. You didn’t care if you burnt your tongue. This was what you needed.

He was what you needed.

Was he?

You looked back up at Steve. His cheeks flushed as he pressed his lips together, entranced with the mug in your hands, eyes ever-so-slightly flitting from it to your lips and back again.

“Thank you, Stevie.”

“You’re welcome, angel.”

You pinched yourself, then took another sip.

Silence fell, comfortable and calm, as you both nursed your drinks, checking your phones and letting time pass. You didn’t care to check the clock.

Steve cleared his throat and set his phone down.

“So, um,” he began. “What else did you have planned for your birthday?”

His voice was low, tender, careful with the question so as not to upset you. He was curious, however, and determined to see exactly how much Tony fucked up your night.

And your life.

“Oh,” you swallowed, chewing your lip in an attempt to remember what you’d originally planned.

“He was, ah, gonna take me dancing. After dinner, after he,” you took an unsteady breath, “after he met my family. It was the one thing he told me he'd let me do after dinner.” You shook your head, adding under your breath, “besides him.”

Tension seeped into the space between you both. You didn’t want to meet Steve’s stare; it was the one you’d always see whenever you told him about Tony, one filled with anger so palpable it made his arms flex subconsciously, one he thought he hid well enough so you never saw, but you always did. Without looking up, you already knew his jaw was clenched and his shoulders were stiff and his eyes bored a hole into the wall behind you. Butterflies started to somersault, crashing into the waves of worry and anxiety.

“Why?”

You looked up. Blue eyes. Stormy, swirling, stubborn.

“What?”

“Why did you stay with him?” Steve asked steadily, voice barely above a whisper. His Adam’s apple bobbed.

You paused. “Because he wouldn’t let me leave.”

“I could’ve helped you. We could’ve helped you,” he gestured vaguely to the rest of the house.

Your teeth tore into your bottom lip. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

“I–” Steve sighed and carded a hand through his dirty blond hair, frustrated, trying to keep his promise while also appealing to you and balancing the fragile tightrope you two stood on. “I care about you, angel. I care about you so fuckin’ much. I just wanna know why. Why he was– why you were–”

“I–” Don’t fucking cry. “I was trapped. Every time I tried to leave, he’d tie me down more. It… it wasn’t as easy as you fucking think, Steve. Rose-colored glasses, wool over my eyes, wolf in sheep's clothing, that sorta thing, ya know? These last couple years, I… I don’t know why tonight was it, and I don’t know how I was able to get out, and I just… I don’t fucking know. I don’t. I–”

You felt tears again.

“I– Angel, I wasn’t trying to–”

“No, I know,” you cut him off, setting down your mug to rub your face in your hands. “I know. But I need you to understand that I– God, my fucking brain feels so scrambled. I just feel so confused, I feel like I’m going insane right now. Fuck!”

You tried to calm down, taking deep breaths to feed your strained lungs, holding on to each before exhaling. In, hold, out, repeat.

The room was spinning again, whirling around like a sick carnival ride as your center of gravity began to give.

As you braced the counter, strong hands and warm, muscular arms engulfed you, lifting you back from the countertop and guiding you into the middle of the kitchen. Steve pressed into you until you relented, reaching your arms around him and pulling him closer. The tension in your shoulders melted, migrating to your chest where your heart surged the moment he touched you, where it pounded against your sternum, threatening to break out of its marrow cage. You inhaled him, savoring him, feeling him all around you.

Slowly, delicately, Steve unwrapped from you. He was careful with every touch, as if he would shatter you– even though he had no problem with putting you back together again. He’d done it a million times before, and he’d do it a million times again.

He’d do it all again for you.

Steve carefully slid your hands from around his center, placing one onto his shoulder, then– nervously and ever-so-slowly– he held your other hand out, sliding down your forearm and entwining his fingers into yours. His free hand fell softly onto your waist, fingers absently and lightly kneading the fabric and skin underneath his palm.

“May I have this dance?” he whispered.

You looked up from the floor to Steve, speechless. You nodded.

Then, he started to sway. He guided you both, rocking side to side to an unheard rhythm and subtly spinning in unison under the soft glow of the kitchen light.

He smiled softly, boyish and genuine, with admiration and tenderness in his eyes. Something gentle and kind, something about the feeling and the familiarity of it– of him– sank into you the longer you looked at him. Your focus shifted around the features of his chiseled face. You recognized the light freckles stippled across his nose and cheeks leftover from the summer; the scar on his earlobe from the night Natasha drunkenly dared you to pierce his ear and failed; the faint worry lines sculpted into his forehead he inherited from his father; the soft, full pink of his lips that innocently parted when you caught him staring at you.

It was the feeling that felt foreign to you; the one missing from your life after the last two years. But, it wasn’t missing. It had been right in front of you the entire time stealing glances, accidental touches, and irreplaceable memories.

Steve had been there.

Steve had been the one looking at you like that for the last two years.

He wasn’t missing. He was just waiting his turn.

And, judging by the realization that washed over your face, his waiting was over.

Steve's smile widened as he squeezed your waist, wordlessly confirming the thoughts running rampant in your head. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed the ghost of a cry, blinking away tears forming in the corners of his vision.

Your lips trembled as you smiled back. Slowly, you snaked your hand from his shoulder to his cheek and cupped his face. He leaned into your touch instantly, stubble and skin rubbed against your palm as he kissed it lightly. The press of his lips sent a spark coursing through your veins, electrifying your body and the air around you. The two of you continued to sway while the kitchen spun faster, a blurred whirlwind while you both remained in focus.

“When?” you asked, voice barely audible.

“Since the day I met you.”

“Why didn’t you–”

Steve shrugged. “I wanted to get to know you first. Didn’t wanna be some random dude who just wanted you for your number. You seemed too special to rush into something. Still are,” he sighed. “I wanted to be your friend first, but before I could muster up some courage, Tony swept you out from under me.”

Guilt crawled up your throat. “I– I’m sorry, Stevie.”

He stepped away from you, twirling you, then dragged you back to him. You could’ve sworn your heart stopped beating.

“No, baby, you don’t have anything to be sorry for. I promise. I–” his voice broke. “I wanted you to be happy. I want you to be happy. I just– I wish I did more for you. I should’ve done more for you.”

He tilted his head to the ceiling trying to stop his tears from falling, but you pulled him right back down to you.

“Steve,” you started, keeping on his baby blues while your own voice struggled to remain steady, “you’ve done more for me than anyone else in the entire world. Hell, in my entire life. I just lost the last two years of my life suffering with someone I thought I loved. Who I thought loved me.”

You brought your other hand to his face. “You did all you could. I just… I thought it was gonna get better, you know? I thought, I hoped– God, I even fucking prayed– that he’d get better, but he didn’t. Nothing did. And I couldn’t find a way out. It’s like he conditioned me to believe he was the only one I had, like, he was the only one who’d ever save me.”

Steve frowned, but nodded in understanding.

“I’m glad you came to me. Not just tonight, but every night. It was like reassuring me that I didn’t totally lose you, or like I never totally lost you.”

“You’ll never lose me, Stevie.”

His face, red-hot underneath your touch, moved closer to yours. You couldn’t tell if you were pulling or he was pushing. His hands gripped your waist the tighter you held his face, the two of you crashing into one another in slow-motion. The light above you grew brighter, the humming of the appliances was getting louder, the room spun at an infinitely unfathomable speed.

You crashed together.

Soft lips– softer than either of you could’ve ever pictured feeling– fit together like the perfect puzzle pieces. Neither of you moved, staying locked together until your hands slipped around his neck, pulling him closer and smashing his nose into your cheek. His grip became bruising as his fingers kneaded into your waist, steadying himself with your hips. You felt another surge of electricity as his tongue jutted out, parting your lips and swiping along the bottom before retreating back behind his.

He tipped you backwards on your heel, smirking against your lips as you flinched and grabbed onto the collar of his shirt.

Setting you upright, he pulled away from the kiss and whispered, “I’ll never let you go.”

“Never?”

“Ever.”

You kissed him again, and the butterflies went wild.

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haitani-maki · 1 month

Text

𝑊𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑚𝑦 𝑠𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ��𝑡 ℎ𝑢𝑟𝑡𝑠

⭒Mild ANGST

⭒This is my first time writing angst, maybe it's not good

⭒English is not my first language

You and Ran met in your early 20s in a stupid way. You were on your way to college and ended up bumping into him, he found it funny that you were desperately apologizing, you didn't know whether to focus on him or the clock because you were late. It was a peaceful day for him as he was just passing through.

For some reason he couldn't forget you, he thought you were beautiful, your voice was cute and you had a nice smile. He would like to see that smile again

Maybe he was in luck… 3 days later he saw you in the dessert shop where he sells his favorite mont blanc

You had left college and went to meet some friends there

Ran addressing you as "the late girl", you couldn't help but blush at this and apologize again for almost running him over.

He says it's no problem, a quick exchange of words and he asks for your number, you exchanged a few messages until he finally asked you out on a date. Believe it or not, he was insecure at first, it took him a few months to tell you that he was a member of a gang called Kanto Manji. When you said everything was fine but asked not to be involved, it was like a weight had been lifted off of him, he thought you would leave and never speak to him again. After all, being part of a gang is not something that is well regarded, is it?

As time went by, things between you were getting more serious, you've met his brother, you were spending more time together, or rather, you were starting to spend more time at his house, not only because you lived a little far away but according to his words, he slept better hugging you.

Well, things got more serious at Kanto Manji too. Coming soon Bonten.

Ran spending more time away, taking longer to respond to your messages or ignoring some, him and his brother showing up with a new tattoo, new clothes and expensive gifts for you as an apology...

You weren't one to meddle in his business, but you couldn't help but wonder what was going on

You tried to talk to him but he soon interrupted you, saying that everything was fine, that things were getting better and that you didn't need to worry

But Ran was changing...

He was distancing himself not only because he was busy with gang stuff but because he was starting to realize that he shouldn't have gotten involved with you, he shouldn't have let you get attached, he shouldn't have gone this far.

Ran saw a lot of things happen, he saw a lot of people die, he lost some people. He knew the dangers in the world he lives in and he was starting to become a big target

Kanto Manji (now Bonten) was growing fast, was gaining power, starting to get on the radar of the police and rival organizations

He wouldn't forgive himself if something happened to you, you became someone important to him. Someone he would give his life to protect besides his brother.

Rindou knew how to protect himself but what about you? He goes crazy just thinking about someone threatening you, you don't want to know what he would do if someone dared to lay a finger on you

You spent enough time together to say you loved each other, yes he loves you

That's why it's been difficult for him, Ran can't make you a target, someone with dreams and who has the opportunity to live a life different from his.

Ran is hating himself and he's conflicted, he's hating himself because soon he's going to have to hurt you, he's going to have to push you away, but he doesn't want to lose you.

Soon you would become just two people who knew each other.

And this is what happened.

He broke up with you claiming that he no longer felt anything for you, that he didn't need to be stuck with just one since now he can have as many as he wants

You didn't believe it at first, you tried to talk to him, but his cold gaze at you felt like blades.

He loved you, why did that change? What made him change? He betrayed you?

No, he just wanted to protect you.

The look that was once tender just for you, became the same cold look he used for his enemies

He needed to be cruel, he needed to push you away and it didn't matter if you knew what you were getting into

It was better this way, you would be safer this way.

It was difficult at first, of course it was, you were left in pieces...

The memories haunting you, places you went together, movies you watched, songs you heard together and that damn dessert shop where you first talked

It was like torture for Ran to see you cry, no punch hurt as much as him being the reason you cried

He wanted to hug you, he wanted to apologize, he wanted to tell you his reasons, he wanted to stop you from walking through that door...

His ego, his pride didn't matter at that moment, he didn't want you to leave, the best thing that ever happened to him

But he couldn't put his life at risk, he couldn't destroy his dreams, he'll have to live with this pain

Work kept him busy with his thoughts for a while... But for the first time in his life, Ran had trouble sleeping.

Nights and more nights Ran looking at your photo

Nights and more nights Ran looking at your saved contact, resisting the temptation to call you.

He wanted to hear your voice once again, he wanted to see you smile once again, he wanted to hear you smile once again

The first woman who sincerely laughed at his bad jokes.

You shined in his eyes.

No other woman could replace you.

Years passed...

You've changed, your hair has changed, your clothes have changed.

You graduated, got a good job, you live well but your smile was never the same.

Ran has also changed, his hair has changed and if before he was a cold person, now he is worse.

He was never the same again.

It's not just because he's the executive of Japan's largest organization

It's because he no longer has the person who made him soft.

You still love him, he still loves you.

Both learned to live separately.

They both got used to this pain.

They are both living their lives.

Sometimes, some memories haunt you both

Bonten always appearing in the news

You try to ignore

One night, you were leaving a restaurant after a celebration with friends.

Ran stopped in traffic, saw you leave, he almost didn't recognize you... Until he saw his smile, now a little sad but still beautiful in his eyes.

You didn't see him, the windows of his car were closed, you were distracted talking to some friends.

He was close to you and you had no idea

Ran wanted to get out of the car, he wanted to talk to you, he wanted to know if you were okay

Ran wanted to tell you the truth about that day, he wanted to have you in his arms again, he wanted to take you with him

But if he was, would you listen to him? Would you take him back?

He hurt you, didn't he? Do you hate him?

Can he be selfish and take her back?

Do you allow it to be just your smile and nothing else that hurts?

©Reblogs are welcome, do not copy or translate

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norrisleclercf1 · 10 months

Text

Mafia!Mick Schumacher Headcannons

Warnings: College sweetheart, Mick is just an angel in a devils world, or so you thought, Mick is like a coin two sided, Micheal is in this since it's an AU, it's like one scene and then nothing else

Tropes: College sweethearts, Popular girl x Shy Boy, Mick doesn't hide his life, but doesn't tell you how involved he is until you find out the hard way

He's your prince charming

the quiet boy in your serial killer psychology class

the boy who had perfect golden hair and the purest blue eyes

your friends always poked fun at you for liking him

he wasn't in your social circle why like the dork?

yet you found him charming

the way he was gentle and had no problems helping others

he's shy, but you'll never forget the girl who got anxious

presenting the group project and Mick stepped in taking it over

you still remember your first conversation with him

late at night you wandered the psychiatric books for your class

rounding a corner you find that golden haired boy with his head

down as he writes

barely anyone came to this corner so you knew this was his spot

the usual dust that lines the lonely table was clean, not a speck

Smiling you walk up, placing your books down

his eyes snap up, first harsh and pissed but then soften

it was so fast you didn't even notice the harsh look

He watches you with a since of reservation unsure why you're

sitting with him

you just smiled and started to study

this happened for a while studying in silence then quiet questions

this went on for 4 months, you finally snapped asking him

if he'll ever ask you out or are you wasting your time

he just smiles saying he was trying to think of the perfect date

and didn't want to ask until he found it

you raise an eyebrow saying burgers and beer would be fine

that was your first date a year ago

it took another 6 months into the relationship for Mick to tell you

why people were unsure about him, that his last name

carried some weight in Germany and his father

sent him here to university in Switzerland to keep him safe

You sat up straight telling him that it was fine, since he wasn't

involved in the criminal natures that his family was

Mick should've told you the truth then

but he didn't want to lose you

you're his princess and it scared him telling you everything

you'd leave

It's supposed to be a normal night out, Mick staying to study for

a test, you going out with friends to celebrate passing a final

leaving a club you round a corner, freezing in your spot

the motorcycle was familiar

that's Mick's bike what in the world was it doing here

noticing your friends weren't paying attention you walk down the

alleyway, stopping when you hear two voices

both speaking german to one another

covering your mouth you peak around seeing those golden strands

resting on a head you knew

next to him was an older version of him, clearly his father

3 men come out pulling a body, clearly not moving

Mick, your prince charming looks down at the men and

stomps on his head before landing a kick to his stomach

the guy makes no noise or attempt to defend himself

the shock of everything you've seen you trip out from your corner

all the men turn seeing you, Mick's eyes grow wide his father

reaches for something but Mick stops him, and whispers something

He steps towards you, you bolt or at least try too but he easily

catches you, you scream for help, quickly covering your mouth

he begs you to stop, that he'd never hurt you

shaking your head no, you keep fighting him trying to get free

Mick was a liar, this wasn't the man you love your sweet

angelic prince charming boyfriend

no this was a monster in sheep clothing

He whispers how sorry he is and that he can't let you go

something tiny and sharp breaks your skin

eyes heavy you feel the world fade away

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 fandom #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 imagine #f1 scenario #mafia!f1 #f1!mafia #mick schumacher #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher headcannon #mick schumacher x you #mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher one shot #mick schumacher x y/n

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atimeofyourlife · 9 months

Text

Old face, new place

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles warm up: High school or College AU

rated: t | cw: none | tags: disabled Steve Harrington, pre-Steddie | wc:1000

Steve and Eddie meet again in college. The Upside Down still happened, but Eddie was never involved.

Honestly, Steve never thought he would go to college. Between his average grades, lack of ambition, and just not knowing what he wanted to do, it just didn’t seem to be on the cards for him. But it all changed after the Upside Down turned his life upside down.

After it was all over, and he’d been disowned by his parents, he and Robin moved to Chicago together. It was there she encouraged him to start taking classes at the same community college as her, to try and get a degree.

And that was how he got here, facing down the door of an art room, trying to build up the courage to go in. He’d signed up to be a nude model for a figure drawing class. At $20 a session, it would really help stretch his and Robin’s lousy paychecks that bit further. As he opened the door, he could hear the teacher reminding the class to be mindful about the model's bodies. That made him feel a little more uneasy, because it reminded him that it was the first time anyone other than doctors or Robin had seen him uncovered since everything with Vecna, and then losing his leg in the final showdown. He stripped down in the cubicle at the side of the room, changing into just a bathrobe.

As he came into the main space, he could feel the eyes of everyone in the room on his prosthetic. He reached the stool set up for him, and slipped off the robe. A collective gasp rang through the room, and he knew it was because of the scarring from the demo-bat attacks.

He got into a pose, and tried to forget where he was. Whenever he took a minute to move because of getting too stiff, he glanced over the class, seeing if there was anyone he recognized. There was one guy who felt vaguely familiar, who would not stop staring at his scars, his gaze more intense than anyone else’s.

Eddie had always known that college wasn’t in the cards for him. Hell, it took him three attempts to graduate high school. And he was only successful the last time because everyone in the class of ‘86 was allowed to graduate without sitting their finals because of the freak earthquake, and the murders, that happened during spring break that year. Wayne had all but forced him into volunteering in the relief efforts, but as soon as he had his diploma in hand, he was hightailing it out of town, looking for something better.

He ended up in Chicago, working evenings in a bar, and getting an apprenticeship to become a tattoo artist. He was a few months into the apprenticeship when his mentor recommended that he take a couple of semesters of art classes at the local community college to help him with technique and to refine his style. He tried to deny it on grounds of cost, but it was covered under the apprenticeship program.

Which is how he found himself a few months in, sitting in a figure drawing class. He zoned out a little as the teacher brought up the rules that had been laid out on the first day of the figure drawing unit, about making the models comfortable and not saying anything about their bodies. That hadn’t happened before any of the other models came in, so it did make Eddie wonder. Maybe it would be a guy with a really interesting dick.

Instead, it was Steve Harrington, of all people, that limped into the room. Eddie couldn’t help but watch as he went into the corner blocked off for the models to change in. What had brought King Steve to be a model for an art class? Looking for more validation on how pretty he was? Trying to pick up girls?

He brought himself out of his thoughts as Steve came out in a robe and. A prosthetic leg. That explained the limp, but brought so many more questions about what had happened. Because Eddie clearly remembered Steve in those tiny gym shorts and he definitely wasn’t missing a leg at that point.

Then Steve dropped the robe. Eddie, alongside the rest of the class, gasped. And not for the reason he’d thought he would be gasping when seeing Steve Harrington naked. He had horrific scarring on his chest and sides. Just opening even more questions to what the hell had happened to him.

He did his best to complete the assigned drawing, but his eyes kept getting drawn to Steve’s scars. The curiosity kept building as the time went on, and he was unsure if he’d be able to keep it in.

He packed up slowly at the end, wanting to try and catch Steve. They’d never been friends, but he needed to know if he was okay. He waited until they were both out of the room, before he called after him. “Hey, Harrington.”

Steve turned around, and looked at Eddie for a moment before recognition flashed in his eyes. “Munson.”

“Are- are you okay?” He asked, feeling a bit lost, unsure if what he wanted to ask was inappropriate.

“You mean my-” Steve rested his hand on his side where the worst of the scarring was. “Animal attack during the earthquake. It’s fine now.”

“And your-” Eddie’s gaze dropped to Steve’s legs.

“An accident a few months later.”

“Damn. You’ve really been through it, Harrington.”

Steve gave a bitter laugh that Eddie couldn’t quite read. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“Maybe you could tell me some of it? Over coffee if you’re free?” Eddie suggested.

Steve looked at his watch. “I’ve got class in like twenty minutes. But I’ll be free after eleven tomorrow?”

Eddie ran through his scheduling in his mind, he was in the shop in the morning. “I’m working in the morning, but I’ll be off about two. We could do a late lunch or something?”

“It’s a date.” Steve agreed.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #disabled steve harrington #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #pre steddie #steddieholidaydrabbles #college au #atimeofyourwrites

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yuurei20 · 2 months

Text

Short translation from the second Twisted Wonderland novel: Yuuya and the rumors

“'What's the matter? You look a bit down,’ says the ghost.

‘No…mm. It's nothing, but...' Yuuya’s reluctant response trails off in a sigh. ‘I just remembered that tomorrow is the start of another week.’

‘Ah, I get it.’ Ace nods in understanding. ‘You're all gloomy cause you don’t want to go to school.’

‘…yeah.’

‘I get that,’ Grim says with a knowing nod. ‘I hate all those boring classes.’

‘Nah, it’s cause he doesn’t want a bunch of guys he doesn’t even know giving him trouble again.’

Yuuya gives a weak nod.

Yuuya and Grim have been students at Night Raven College for a month. He’d assumed that everything would settle down in time, but after a certain incident things are more shaken up than ever.

It is as though there is no one at the school who has not heard the rumors surrounding Yuuya. Everyone is talking about the incident.

Riddle Rosehearts, the housewarden who reigned over Heartslabyul Dorm, and his excessively strict rules. His authoritarian regime may have continued until his graduation but then, disoriented, he had unleashed a torrent of magical power that resulted in his overblot.

Blot is a byproduct of using magic. While a phenomenon that can pose a deadly threat to mages who allow it to accumulate, it is very rare for it to ever reach that point. For an overblot to occur within such a prestigious, traditional school for mages was unprecedented.

It was a major incident that involved both the students of Heartslabyul, and those of another dorm entirely.

A dorm that was most recently dubbed ‘Ramshackle.’ Its two members are Kuroki Yuuya, a human from another world incapable of using magic, and Grim, a magical beast.

They are special first-years, having received permission from the headmage to enroll due to unusual circumstances.

‘Well, it’s not like the rumors are wrong, but they leave out a lot of important parts.’

Listening to Ace explain, Yuuya starts to feel dizzy.

‘I wasn’t really that caught up in everything with Riddle-senpai, I just happened to be there with you two…I don’t really think ‘special first year’ is the right way to put it.’

‘I guess the main point is that they’re not just rumors.’ Deuce seems to be thinking hard, and Ace laughs aloud.

‘I get asked about you all the time, too, but it’s not like I can say they're wrong or refute them, right?’

‘It’s okay to refute them! People are even coming to our classroom, now, to look in. I thought I was just imagining it at first, but…it’s probably the rumors.’

‘Well, you hear something like that and of course you’re gonna think, ‘I wonder how amazing that first-year really is,’ right?’

‘Speaking of which, on Friday, when I saw you talking to someone from another class,’ Deuce blinks as if having just remembered something. ‘I thought it was someone you knew―they were just hassling you?’

‘Yeah...I might have fainted if you hadn't walked up.’

‘That's a bit dramatic...but then again, not for Yuu, I guess.’

While he is an ordinary human, there is one thing that sets Yuuya apart from others: he detests fighting.

Even witnessing a conflict sets him on edge, and hearing the slightest argument makes him anxious. There is nothing that Yuuya would not do to avoid a fight.

And yet, it seems that a considerable number of students now view him as a rival. Night Raven College students have a lot of pride. Rumors about a special first-year student must have sparked their competitive spirit.

There is no end to the openly hostile students. Whenever he hears, ‘Hey, are you Yuu?,’ he gives an evasive answer and runs away.

‘What? Someone pickin’ a fight? We can’t just let ‘em mock Ramshackle Dorm.’ Grim growls, wrinkling his small, black nose. ‘Tell me who it is an’ where they are. I’ll knock ‘em right out!’

‘Absolutely not.’

‘Well, don’t let it get to you.’ Ace pats Yuuya on the back. He hasn’t stopped chuckling. ‘People will forget about the rumors sooner or later. Hang in there!’

‘That’s easy for you to say…’

If any of them were significantly involved in the situation with Riddle, it was Ace. But with the gossip about Yuuya spreading like wildfire Ace has been able to avoid any negative attention, skillfully keeping himself out of the trouble.

Perhaps he feels guilty about it. ‘You actually seem to be fitting in with the class more,’ he offers in assurance.

‘You think so? Nothing feels different.’

‘Yeah, I think you’re starting to fit in, too.’

Yuuya remains glum, even despite Deuce's encouragement. Ace and Deuce exchange glances and shrug."

#twstnovel2 #twisted wonderland #twst translations

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leqonsluv3r · 2 months

Note

Hii! May I ask Leon with a microbiologist? Like, they ramble about science news and new projects/ideas they have in mind (wich in most parts he doesn't understand), random facts about microorganisms & general stuff, along with jokes every chance they get? Thank you!

cardiomyocytes* (and the affected)

—re!2 leon kennedy x microbiologist!fem reader

(*cardiomyocytes — smooth muscle cells that surround the human heart)

— a oneshot (request)

warnings: the butchering of anything involving microbiology (i have zero knowledge of any of this so bear with me), reader being a smarty pants and leon having no clue what she’s talking about, pure fluff, kissing, established relationship, brainiac x leon troupe (obviously), police officer leon, and other things i’m forgetting to mention.

“he looks over the titles of the books she’s studying and reading, even if she already has a job as one of five microbiologists at her lab. she still reads and never stops gaining knowledge. a thing he admires but deeply despises in certain aspects of their relationship. always one upping him with her knowledge that she gained from many years of studying. he’s just a police officer, he knows the basics of that, but all the words of the titles he’s reading of the books on their shared bookshelf in their apartment are lost on him. what the hell even is protozoa? and why does it need to have a book?”

— or reader is a microbiologist and leon struggles to understand the basics of what his girlfriend does

masterlist taglist

an: thank you for the request anon. this is probably one of the hardest ones i’ve had to write because i know zilch about microbiology. had to ask my mom with the science degree about a million questions for this oneshot. so please enjoy <33 hope it meets your expectations.

she got her degree when she was seventeen. she was way ahead of everyone in high school, graduating a year early and starting college right away.

she knew she was smarter then some of the kids she went to college with, she was the only one insane enough to base a paper on the four cells that surround the heart.

and it got her an A. go figure.

she didn’t take risks often, not ever. only when she was in college and high school did she take academic risks, but never actual risks. like bungee jumping off of a bridge or trying the hottest pepper known to man.

no, she never did any of that.

not until she was in her fourth and final year of her microbiology degree did she take a risk. she never even considered taking it up until this point.

she saw leon for the first time, and everything inside of her. her brain, her heart and the cells surrounding it, seemed to indicate that she would be a fool if she didn’t talk to him. didn’t take that risk that she had never even thought of.

he was so beautiful, all of him. he was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. from the brown hair that wasn’t completely dark, to the blue of his eyes and the way he carried himself as if he didn’t have a care in the world…even if he had a badge and a gun.

even if he put his life on the line ever single day, he walked around and into the coffee shop she studied at frequently as if it was no big deal. she tried not to gawk, tried not to peer over her textbook of blood born viruses. she just tried to be subtle, but apparently he caught onto that.

stupid cops and their ability to sense staring. she thought to herself that day as she ducked behind her textbook at the last second. she prayed to god he didn’t say anything, didn’t see her practically eye fucking him with her corneas.

she thought she was safe until she heard steps come towards her table, stopping just by her eye-line near the edge of the table. she swallowed and looked up from her textbook. and she had never taken such a risk by doing so, by just simply moving her head up from where she sat to meet his devastatingly beautiful face.

he tilted his head, looking over her features for a second himself. he selfishly let himself look, she had stared at him first after all. her face was coated in a blush that made her feel like her whole body was on fire.

is this what attraction, true, attraction was like? she felt like she was having a hot flash. she swallowed and managed a nervous smile, slowly closing her textbook and she made the biggest mistake by doing that — showing him the cover of her textbook.

his eyes went down to the cover of the textbook, reading it out loud, the first words he had ever spoken to her. “A Planet of Viruses?” he repeated the title with a raised brow and then let his eyes drift over to her. she managed to speak, or tried to, talking to men had never been her specialty.

“uhh, yeah. it’s…i’m in college.” she says as she flashes another nervous smile, wanting to shove herself into a flesh pit. she hated this, she was bad at talking to men. she should’ve just sworn men off forever but she was still a women. no degree of any kind would change that.

he nods slowly and to her surprise, he sits down at the small table across from her, coffee in a to-go cup. she scans her eyes over him, almost scared that if she looks to long she’ll be damned.

“what do you study?” he says with a small sip to his coffee, leaning back in the chair a little. he was taking an interest to her, trying to get to know her. she felt her cheeks flush ten times more at the realization. “microbiology.”

“microbiology? what is that?” he asks with a small chuckle as he shifts in the seat across from her, she brushed her hands over her pants and looked directly at him, not looking away once.

“uhm, it’s the study of the biology of microscopic organisms: viruses, bacteria, algae, fungi, etc.” she manages to explain as she feels his undivided attention on her, his blue eyes sparkling a little bit. it was almost like he liked learning something. whether it be about her or just in general, she wasn’t sure. “why microbiology?”

she tilts her head at him, looking at the book title he had read out loud for one of her courses upon introduction. “i think it’s fascinating. the cells in a body or the cells of a plant. they’re both living things, they operate differently but when you look at it underneath a microscope…they work in more similar ways.” he sips on his coffee and nods.

“so you like learning how things work?” he asks with a small grin, trying to figure out with just a subtle shifts of his blue eyes over her body across the small café table. she nods and smiles, she tries to do the best she can, she’s terrible at flirting.

“for the most part.” she hums as she taps on the cover of the textbook with her fingers, “the only thing i can’t seem to figure out is why your talking to me.” she continues with a small bite of her bottom lip in addition to her nerves.

he smiles and shakes his head, god help me. his smile is fucking beautiful. she thinks as she watches him adjust in the chair across from her, leaning his elbows on the table. “i think your a beautiful woman, you were staring and i happen to like awkward women who can barely flirt.” he says with a small tilt of his head, analyzing her again with his blue irises.

she knew he was joking, he was being honest and that got a lot farther with her then stupid pickup lines ever would. “i’m not great at the flirting, your right. i just…i don’t talk to handsome guys. i don’t.” she swallows as she realizes what she let slip out of her mouth.

“i’m handsome? hmm, maybe i should add that to my resume.” he says with a small goofy smile, showcasing some of his teeth. she blinked and felt her cheeks grow hot again, her whole body felt like it would burst into flames and implode. she tried to laugh but it came out like some weird cackle.

he shakes his head, “it’s okay, pretty girl. you think i’m handsome. i’ll take it.” he says with a small smile and a nod of his head. she felt a smile grace her features, one more real at his compliment. pretty girl, pretty girl, pretty girl…the way he said it echoed in her brain and didn’t escape.

before she could open her mouth to say anything, his radio went off on his uniform. a bunch of codes and words she didn’t understand before he answered the walkie. “yeah, i’m on my way.” he mumbled. he then looked back to her with an apologetic smile, good. he didn’t want this to end either, i must be doing something right. she thinks to herself.

“well sorry to cut the conversation short, pretty girl. but i gotta go bust some criminals.” he says with a small sigh, pulling himself out of the chair across from her. she nods towards him in understanding, “life of a cop, daunting.” she jokes, almost wanting to slap herself for it.

that was until he laughed — the most beautiful sound she had ever heard. she swears it, this man is already ruining other men for her. not that there were other men to begin with. she grabs her pen and grabs his to-go coffee cup.

he looks at her with a raised eyebrow, “stealing my coffee? you know this is a coffee place…” he starts as he cracks a small grin, she shakes her head with a small grin and clicks her pen when she’s done writing on the side. “my name and number, incase you get curious and wanna learn more about microbiology.” she grins.

she was hoping he got the hint, praying and by the looks of it. he did, he took the cup from her hand, their fingers brushing briefly. he holds the cup up and reads the name and number on the side.

he shoots her a playful smile, a glint in those blue irises that she swears could make any girl smile. “i’ll make sure to have a list of questions by friday.”

her brows furrow, “what’s on friday?” she swallows as she waits for his answer. he winks at her, winks, and says. “our date.”

she blinks, her eyes wide and feels a smile forming on her face that she can’t help, like she could implode right here in front of him and be absolutely fine with it. “okay…?” she trails off because she never got his name.

he sees her brows furrow and her actually look confused, which he guesses isnt something that happens often in her brain. “leon, or handsome cop. whichever you prefer.” he says with a small playful smile on his boyish features.

she laughs and nods, sucking in a breath. “see you on friday, leon. be in touch.” she says as she tries to regain her cool and not seem like a dork, some girl who’s never talked to the male species before. he scans her up and down with a different kind of something in his blue eyes, “oh i will be.”

she swears that as he walks away, she feels her pulse go ten times faster and her stomach erupt in butterflies. as she watches him exit the coffee shop, following him with her eyes until he gets into his police cruiser, to-go cup and hand and zooms out of the parking lot.

she feels her heart thrum faster in her chest. she knew she had taken a risk, the biggest one she ever had that was in academics.

and she was excited at what this would bring.

two years later, she’s still the same girl she was in her fourth and final year in college. except now, she had leon indefinitely.

he was still somewhat amazed by her smarts and the ways she could just pack information into her brain like it was nobodies business. she had graduated a year after they got together, marveling that all her late nights of studying and cramming down books about cells and microorganisms paid off.

he was there to see her graduate college, there when she got a job at a lab with five other scientists. all studying and devoting their life to finding inaccuracies in cell makeup of various plants & humans alike.

he was there to move her into his home, helping her unload various boxes of books and other things. even a microscope and slides. he didn’t ask, it was pretty self explanatory given her profession.

now here they were, together and happy. he was working as a cop at the police station in town and she was devoting her career to science. they were happy for each other, they were following their dreams.

the only thing was that leon was still lost whenever she talked about microbiology. he had zero idea about what it was besides the basics, that it was about cells and stuff. he had no other clue besides that.

it was lost on him whenever she opened her mouth to talk about work that day, he tried doing research, just so he could maybe try and understand what she was talking about. but he didn’t have a college degree in it, so all the terms and information were lost on him entirely.

he scanned the bookshelf of their shared place, looking over his titles which were just autobiography’s and some books he read as a kid. then there were hers, things about cells, data research, fungi…he tried reading one once and fell asleep after two pages.

literally.

because what the hell was a protozoa? and why did it need a 500 page book talking about it and its properties? he shook his head and sighed, deciding to take the book off the shelf and glance at the cover. he didn’t even understand it, again, it was lost on him.

but his girlfriend was happy, she loved all of it. so who was he to judge? but he just wished he could understand it a little. he didn’t like just nodding along when she talked about work like an idiot. he shoved the book back in on the bookshelf where it went, sighing.

maybe another day.

they were sitting on the couch watching a movie, some horror movie where the idiot protagonist was running away from the even stupider antagonist. she sighed and sat back on the couch cushions.

“you okay, baby?” he asks with a small glance from the tv screen in her direction. she sighs and nods, “horror movies are just…” she starts as she shifts on the couch, looking over at him. “why do you like horror movies?” she asks.

he thinks for a minute, shifting from his position on the couch to set his soda down on the coffee table in front of it. “i like them because it’s funny that any person would be stupid enough to make these mistakes.” he says with a small snort, nodding towards the tv where the protagonist was running down a dark alleyway.

she looks at the tv and then back at him, “but why are we watching it if you think it’s stupid?” she says with furrowed brows as she looks over his features. he sighs and pauses the movie with a small movement of his hand to the remote, turning to face her on the couch.

“what’s wrong with you?”

“huh?” she looks perplexed, like he just asked her to get naked, not that she’d mind doing that for him.

“you don’t get this grumpy when i watch horror movies. what’s the real issue here?” he says with a small tilt of his head, an amused smile on his face. she shifts on the couch, moving to tuck her feet beneath her. “nothing, i’m fine.”

“really? because i don’t think you are.” he says with a small raise of his eyebrow at his girlfriend, moving closer to rub a hand on her knee. “what’s the issue?” he repeats the question, keeping his eyes locked on hers.

she sighs and looks away from him, damn him and his ability to know everything about me. she thinks as she tries to form her thoughts into words. “one of the scientists in the lab today…” she starts and shakes her head, trying to push back the anger.

“he lost one of the cell samples.” she says in a small but angry voice as she feels her fists curl a little with anger. he rubs her knee with his hand, keeping her calm to the best of his ability, “what kind of cell sample was it?” he asks softly as he keeps his voice even and calm.

“human cell sample.” she says with a small pinch of her brow, “a cancerous human cell sample.” she repeats as she looks at him. he raises a small brow in her direction again, “how does someone manage to lose that?” he asks as if she isn’t there, more like his thoughts are just pouring out of his mouth.

“i have no clue. but he’s lucky we have a backup or else…else i would’ve shoved him into the eyewash station.” she says in a low growl as if it’s a dangerous threat. he chuckles and shakes his head, still rubbing his hand in soothing circles over her knee. “your not gonna shove anyone into the eyewash station.” he says with a small knowing look on his face.

“but i could.” she retorts with a small raise of her eyebrows in her boyfriends direction. “he messed up my sample. he had it coming.” she raises a fist and shakes it. he rolls his eyes playfully at her antics, putting the hand on her knee over her curled fist and lowering it. “calm down, rocky. your not hurting anyone over some dish full of cells.” he says with a small laugh.

she sighs and nods, “i want to though. it took me months to acquire those samples for research.” she groans as she throws herself back on the couch dramatically. “look at it this way,” he starts.

“you don’t have to worry about what happened to it. you know what he did with it, lost or not.” he says with a small shrug as he glances over her on the couch next to her.

“that’s not the point!” she says in frustration as she grips at her hair and buries her face into the couch cushions. he leans over a bit and rubs over her spine, “take a step back, baby. relax, it’s okay.” he says gently as he rubs her back over her hoodie she was wearing.

she takes a couple deep breaths, nodding into the couch cushions as she relaxes into his touch. “you need to calm down. it’s just science at the end of the day. it’s not gonna change and it’s not going anywhere without you.” he reassures her as he leans over and presses a kiss on the back of her head, rubbing soothing circles down her spine.

she sniffles, “i know but he lost the fucking sample.” she groans in frustration as she keeps her cheek buried in the couch cushions. he nods supportively and rubs her back, “you can’t stress over it. what’s done is done.” he says firmly but gently, a small sad smile on his features.

he knows how worked up she gets over her job, taking it home with her all the time. he always has to de-stress her. he has to unknot her like rope and make sure she’s okay after the work week.

her job makes his look like a circus.

she sniffles and nods slowly, she pulls her head out of the couch cushions and moves towards him on the couch, burying her face into his neck and just hugging him. he keeps rubbing her back and holding her close like he did before, “your so good at your job, you care so much. but you need to let things go, breathe.” he says calmly into her hair.

“trust me,” he continues. “in my job if you take things home from work. it will literally kill you and drive you crazy.” he says with a small snort as he shakes his head. “but your doing what you love and it’s great. you need to let things go when it’s necessary.” he whispers into her hair, rubbing her back and pressing a small kiss into the crown of her head.

“i can’t let you destroy and work yourself up, that beautiful brain is amazing when it’s working properly. i need to hear my girlfriends random facts about viruses.” he chuckles into her hair, trying to cheer her up. which seems to work because she muffles a small laugh into his shoulder.

“see, even you know i’m right.” he says softly into his hair, patting her back gently. she pulls her face away from his neck after soaking it with some tears. “your always right.” she groans as she wipes at her eyes with her hoodie sleeves.

“i’m not always right, i’m just lucky.” he says softly as he looks over her features with a small smile, rubbing her back as best as she can to calm her down. she rolls her eyes and moves towards him, pressing her lips to his slowly.

he keeps a firm hold on her back and hips, kissing her slowly and gently back as he tastes the saltiness of her tears on her lips. these moments with her are probably the best in his mind, he gets to hold her close, rub her back and kiss her.

he wouldn’t trade anything for this. he’s certain.

two days later, they were snowed in.

it had snowed about 18 inches in the city, and more was bound to come according to the news forecast. even leon, wasn’t going to work. he used his PTO because there was no way he was going out in that.

and she was still trying to argue to go out, to go to the lab and get her work done for the day. her boss even called her and told her the trip wasn’t worth it, to just take the day off.

but she just wasn’t listening.

“please?! i need to go!” she whined at leon as she tried to jump in her snow boots to meet his keys. he was holding her car keys above his head out of her reach. “no fucking way. have you seen the roads, baby? it’s not safe.” he says with a gesture to the window outside.

everything was covered in inches of snow and white. freezing cold temperatures and it just kept falling in fat flakes from the sky. she shook her head in protest, “just give me the keys!” she whined again as she tried to reach on her tippy toes for them.

“no! i cannot believe i’m saying this.” he pinches his brows and looks at her with a hard look, one that he rarely had when it came to her. “your not going to work, it’s unsafe and your boss even told you not to go. so go change into some pjs and sit your ass down and relax. i’m hiding your car keys.” he says firmly as he looks at her, brushing past her to go into their bedroom.

she groans and yells, “your such a buzzkill!”

“i don’t hear you changing or sitting down!” he yells from the bedroom. she groans and stomps her snow boots on the floor like a child, whipping her head to look back out at the window, “stupid snow algae.” she hisses at the dreary weather outside.

eventually, she gave up on the complaining after leon hid her keys and made her get comfortable and relax. they were sitting on the couch an hour later, watching some movie. her body was pressed against his and her leg was wrapped over his legs. “i’m so cold.” she mumbles into his chest.

“baby, we have two blankets around us. you have socks and a sweater on. the heat’s on full blast. what else do you want me to do?” he asks with a small raise of his eyebrows to where she’s cuddled up against his chest.

“i don’t know, make it stop.” she grumbles into his chest as she presses herself closer to him, keeping the blankets adjusted around them on the couch. the movie was playing mindlessly in the background at his point as they kept cuddled up together.

he shakes his head in amusement, “as much as i would love to magically make you not cold anymore. that’s not how it works.” he says softly as he presses a kiss to the top of her hair. she sighs and nuzzles her head deeper into his chest, “just hold me then.” she muffles into his chest.

he looks down at her with a small brow raise. “i am holding you.” he squeezes his arms around her beneath the blankets for emphasis. “not good enough, smartass.” she mumbles into his chest.

he pinches her hip underneath her sweatshirt with his cold hands, she shrieks and bolts upright, smacking him on the chest. he laughs, “your such a jerk!” she shrieks as she tries to move away from him on the couch with the two blankets.

“oh no, get back here.” he says with a small grin, grabbing her effectively and the blankets with her, holding her close to his side on the couch. “i love you too, baby.” he mumbles with amusement as he presses his lips to the side of her head, then her cheek.

causing her cheeks to heat up and flare despite her being cold. she could feel her heart expanding and the muscles expanding.

“your lucky your cute.” she whispers as she just moves back next to him for warmth. he chortles her and presses another kiss to her head. “i’m cute, handsome and i put up with your pain in the ass. i deserve an award.” he says with a proud smile as she looked up at him, her brow raised in amusement.

“there’s no award for that.” she starts as she looks at him, her eyes widening a little at the words he chose. she feels her heart pound faster and faster against her chest.

even after all this time, the intensity from just looking at him never fails to make her heart feel like it’s going to simply explode within her chest. he smirks and obliterates her world view yet again, “i’ll invent one then and give it to myself.”

she’s never going to let him go ever, not in a million years would she do something that stupid with the level of IQ she has.

after the snow continued to fall that day, then the next and it was a full on blizzard, soon enough. they had been kept inside, even their bosses individually kept them out of the streets.

she wanted to argue but there was no point, not at this time. not when leon hid her car keys yesterday. instead of being curled up underneath the blanket pressed so close together, they were both sitting on the couch. leon on one end and her on the other.

she had cracked open a book that she had been wanting to read about fungi cells and leon was just watching the tv at a low volume so he wasn’t disturbing her.

“i can’t believe you’d rather read a book about fungi cells then watch Brooklyn nine-nine with me.” he says with a small shake of his head as he eyes her eyes that swept over each word of the page like it was nobodies business.

“i’m here on the couch with you aren’t i?” she says with a small focused look as she talked and continued reading, flipping a page in her book. he snorts, “that’s not what i meant.”

“do you even know what fungi cells are?” she says with a small raise of her eyebrow in his direction at his end of their couch. he shakes his head, his gaze going back to the tv.

“they’re cells in mushrooms.” he mumbles as if he knows the answer already, she closes her book with a small snap and bookmarks the page, “fungi are eukaryotes and have a complex cellular organization.” she says as seriously as she can.

his brow furrows and he pauses the tv, “i have no idea what that means.” he says with a small sigh as he looks over at her, the book sat in her lap like she was protecting it.

“it means its cells that have very different reproductive properties.” she says as she looks at him with a serious look on her face, like she wasn’t talking about mushroom cells.

his brows furrow even more, what the hell did that even mean? what the fuck is a mushroom doing having sex? he thinks to himself as he shakes his head at her, “i’m still lost.”

she pinches her brows and sighs, “okay, so…” and she begins explaining the cells of a mushroom and in other fungi as best as she can and as simply as she can.

when she finishes he just stares at her and blinks with his blue eyes, “don’t be mad but i zoned out for like half of what you just said.” he says with a small chuckle.

she groans and shakes her head, obviously frustrated, “i’m not explaining it to you anymore. watch your show.” she says in an angry voice as she opens her book back up where its bookmarked and starting to read again.

he clicks his tongue, “no no,” he reaches over and grabs her book, keeping it bookmarked and sitting it on the coffee table in front of them. “i just don’t have a degree in microbiology, baby. my IQ is not…as high as yours.” he says in a soft voice as he rubs a hand over her knee.

she just listens to him, blinking her eyes over in his general direction as she shifts on the couch. “it doesn’t mean i don’t want to understand, god, i would love to understand. i would go back to school and learn everything about microbiology just to talk to you about it.” he proclaims as he looks at her with nothing but love in his blue eyes.

“i would relearn everything and get a degree in microbiology and learn just to understand your work, the books you read and just what it’s like to be inside your brain.” he says softly as he rubs his thumb over her knee, keeping her eyes on his as he speaks with such conviction that it makes her heart want to burst right out of her chest.

“so don’t think for one second that i don’t take interest and tune everything out, i always want to understand and i will spend the rest of my life trying if it means i get to be with you and love you.” he says with a small smile as he feels himself remain breathless in a sense at his own confession.

the words tumbling out of his mouth like he was going on a rant about something, like he was passionate about this. and he was, he needed her to understand.

“the day i met you in that coffee shop, i knew just from looking at that book you were reading…i knew it would be hard. but god, has it been so worth it baby.” he says with a small warmth in his blue eyes that only bloomed for her. the heat from his hand on her knee and the way his words bursted her into flame, it was enough to melt the snow of the blizzard outside.

“everything about you is worth it, even if i don’t understand. i’ll never fully understand but that doesn’t mean i won’t try.” he says with a squeeze to her knee, she blinks up at him and feels her heartbeat accelerating.

“i love you.” she breathes. she had said it to him a million times before in the past two years but it felt like it was needed in this context, like she needed to say this to him. just so that his words that he spoke were not lost on her.

he nods slowly and pulls her closer into his lap, settling his hands over her waist, thumbing at the skin underneath her sweater. “i love you too.” he says softly, “i mean every single thing i just said.” he says gently, his words like a caress and a reassurance that she wasn’t sure she needed until then.

she nods and sighs softly, “i know.” she whispers as she moves her lips to his again, leaning up a little bit from where she was sat in his lap. his thumb sweeping over the skin of her hip, igniting her body into even more flames. she moves her lips over his soft ones, kissing him with intention that wasn’t mindless.

he kisses back, used to the way his lips melded with hers. everything between them, this connection that they had was unlikely. but it was theirs and it went beyond science.

it was love, it was the cells around the hearts they had, the beating of them for only each other. she would kiss him a million times just to prove that point until there was nothing left within her.

until she was just a bunch of frazzled nerve endings, she would kiss him and love him. let him have her in every inch, every scenario and even if the hypotheses was scary and didn’t make sense.

she’d love him unconditionally, the same way he loved her. until both of the cells around their heart fizzled out and died.

she was never letting that go, not now and not in a million years, the probability was there. she didn’t care, not when he loved her and it consumed her in a way that should be studied.

and even if that scared her, she didn’t care. she had him and that was good enough in her heart and brain to keep loving him.

until the cardiomyocytes died out.

an: i hope you liked this, i tried my best to incorporate what you asked for anon :,) had to ask my mom a million questions to get an idea of what i was getting myself into with this oneshot request. but i love you all, please reblog, like and my taglist and masterlist are linked at the beginning. i love you all, kisses. xx. <33

taglist: @heartsforvin @elihii (go to my linked post to join the taglist)

#leon kennedy #leon x reader #re2 leon #leon kennedy au #re2 remake #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy fic #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy re2 #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #leqonsluv3rasks

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ideas-live-forever · 10 months

Text

Different Dates With Ken!

This is my first time writing in a while, so forgive me if I’m rusty! Been obsessed with the Barbie movie, so here’s some Stereotypical Ken x Reader headcanonssss

please feel free to send ken prompts/asks i am so bored!!

(also, i wrote this in like an hour so there’s probably some typos and ken is probably ooc or something i’m sorry 😭)

You and Ken had been dating for a month now, the two of you in the human world

dinner dates

He doesn’t really have a concept of indoor voices, so he kind of talks at a normal volume.

which would be fine, except you’re in a formal restaurant where everyone is basically whispering.

If you gently point it out, though, he’ll go extra quiet and only talk in a whisper for the rest of the dinner.

He’s just paranoid that he’s embarrassing you or something.

When the bill comes, he definitely tries to pay it (assuming he has money).

If you get to the bill first, he gets really pouty, though he’ll forget he was ever upset if you give him a kiss.

“Y/nnnn, let me pay. It’s the least I can do," Ken begs, pulling out the puppy-dog eyes.

"No," you respond. "You try to pay for everything. Let me treat you once in a while."

It takes a great deal of self-control, but you can't stay away from his eyes long enough to pay for dinner. After you hand the check back to the waiter, you glance back at a now-sulking Ken. He looks almost sad.

With an affectionate eye roll and a smile, you lean across the table and press a small kiss onto his lips. Immediately, he melts into it. And when you pull back, he’s all smiles before he remembers that he’s supposed to be mad at you.

If he gets to it first, he pays, and he smiles at you triumphantly, clearly proud of himself.

After dinner, he insists on walking you home because he doesn’t own a car.

At your door, he thanks you for taking him out and kind of stands there awkwardly.

You have to lean in and initiate the goodbye kiss, but he more than enjoys it.

Study dates/coffee shop dates

Ken didn’t go to college, or school at all, really, so he didn’t quite understand the concept of the date you were currently bringing him to.

However, he sat patiently in the coffee shop while you got your stuff together and opened your laptop, just smiling at you like an idiot.

He takes the time to admire you in your element.

When you ask him what coffee he wants so you can get it for him, he cocks his head in confusion.

"There are, like, different kinds?" he asks innocently, glancing between you and the sigh with different options he had previously failed to notice.

You have to stifle a giggle at his reaction.

"Yeah, there’s a bunch. Come on, I'll recommend you some."

Ken tried a latte.

He didn’t like it.

However, he sipped on it periodically, mirroring your actions as you looked through your work.

He had brought some books on Horses to look over while you were doing your thing, but he couldn’t really focus on reading while you were right there.

He placed some random sticky notes on the pages absentmindedly as he watched you with wonder in his blue eyes.

If you get frustrated at all, He’s quick to ask what’s bothering you and decides that he’s going to help you study. Whether that involved holding your extra papers or helping you with flashcards,

When you wrap up, you notice how little of his latte he has drank.

When you ask about it, he quickly downs the whole thing, plastering a fake smile on top of his look of disgust.

movie dates

This one was Ken's idea.

There's a movie theater in Barbieland, so he knew the basic premise of a movie date.

Although it took a while for him to figure out how to buy the tickets because in Barbieland they were free,

She definitely picked The Little Mermaid.

It seemed like a safe option to him, considering that everything else was either sad-looking or a horror movie, and he can’t really handle either of those.

The plan was to meet at the theater, so he waited outside for you to get there.

When you did, you two went inside and ordered a large popcorn, but Ken let out a little gasp of excitement at the other snacks on sale.

He ends up buying a pretzel, a bag of chips, and a bag of cookies.

All of which he insists on sharing with you.

When you finally go into the theater, he gets a confused look on his face.

He’s never seen movie ads before, so he assumes they're part of the movie.

"I thought this was about a mermaid."

After explaining it to him, he nods vigorously and blushes a bit in embarrassment.

When the movie finally starts, he smiles really big and turns to look at you.

Ken gets HEAVILY invested in the movie.

He definitely cries during Part of Your World, and he’s horrible at hiding it. That results in him clinging to your arm and the people next to him giving him weird looks.

When it’s over, he has a look of faraway wonder in his eyes.

As you two walk out of the theater, he can’t stop gushing about how cute Ariel and Eric were. And how he wanted to watch the original animated movie. And how you two should have matched Little Mermaid Halloween Costumes

Before you leave to go home, Ken gives you a bone-crushing hug and a thank you for spending your afternoon with him.

Which leads you to kiss him.

Which makes him unable to stop blushing as you say your goodbyes for the night.

#barbie movie #ken x reader #ken x you #ken x y/n #ken headcanon #ken blurbs #stereotypical ken x reader #ryan gosling ken x reader #ken fluff #ken imagine

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risriswrites · 10 months

Text

Booze, Burgers, and Bartenders

summary: short love story involving rooster and penny's favorite bartender.

pairing: bradley bradshaw x fem reader

warnings: none really, just some mild language and minor angst (if you can even call it that)

author's note: wow!! thank you guys so much for all of the love on my second fic "just roommates". i don't have a lot to say about it because honestly i'm speechless! with that being said, this fic has been in the works for months now and i'm exhausted with it. i wanted to write this and get it out back in may but everything with college really held me back and then from there i've just been enjoying summer and have been putting it off. so i apologize for the wait, but i hope y'all enjoy it!! likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated :)

word count: 5.7k

“Penny! Where are the extra bottles of Budweiser?” you call out, body crouched just below the countertop of the bar in an effort to find a hidden Budweiser bottle behind all the Corona’s.

Somewhere in the bar, Penny shouts back to you, a muffled, “Just got a new shipment order in this morning! Check in the backroom, they’re probably still in their packaging!” reaches your ears.

Huffing, you force yourself back to a standing position, leaning your weight against the bar for a few seconds before pushing off and heading towards the backroom.

Flickering the light switch on once the door is fully open, you begin the tedious search for the famous beer the patrons preferred to order at Penny’s bar. Sighing to yourself, you grab a stool just in case the box was placed on one of the top shelves. Jaxson had a habit of doing that, he knew both yourself and Penny preferred the heavier boxes on the bottom shelves, but he somehow always managed to “forget” that important factor.

Crouching low you start with the bottom shelves before moving upwards. Luckily, Jaxson put the newest box of Budweiser’s one shelf above the middle. Lifting the box into your arms, you steady yourself before moving back out of the room and towards the bar.

Maneuvering around the tables and chairs scattered throughout the bar was easier said than done. It wasn’t until you were able to push the box onto the countertop that you could take a breath, leaning your body weight onto the bar again with a huff. Flicking your hair over your shoulder, you notice Penny coming into your field of vision, a sly grin on her face.

“Jaxson leave the box on the top shelf again?” she questions, quirking a curious brow in the process.

Pinning her with a joking glare you smile, “Not this time, but it’s still heavy.”

“Hey, I’ve been doing it for ten years, trust me hon, it doesn’t get much easier” she chuckles.

Throwing your head back with a groan, you grip the edges of the bar, leaning back on your heels, “I’m sure I’ll get used to it soon,” straightening back up on your two feet, you turn to face Penny again, fixing her with your stare and point in her direction, “but, if Jaxson continues to put new, heavy, boxes on the top shelf, I can’t guarantee he’ll be around forever.”

Penny lets out a snort and nods her head in understanding, “I’m right there with you, but until then,” she gets up from her seat at the bar and pats the box of beer twice, “let’s get these in the fridge.”

With a forced laugh and a mock salute, you let out a “You got it Pen,” and resume struggling against the bottles of booze.

Nights at the Hard Deck fluctuated. Weekdays were a little slow, apart from Friday nights, with Saturdays being the busiest. Not that you’re complaining since that’s when you receive the most tips. And having the local aviators around as eye candy wasn’t so bad, plus, they’re generous tippers.

Tonight though, there had been an abundance of new faces floating around the bar. Mainly naval aviators, not to your surprise, but the sheer amount that had been crowding the bar was just a tad overwhelming.

Even Jaxson was flustered, his eyes flitting back and forth from you to Penny in search of some assistance. Unfortunately for everyone, you each were too busy struggling with keeping up with your own sides of the bar, and just when you thought you had a second to breathe, another patron would waltz up to your side and ask for a drink.

Glancing over towards Penny, you notice her interacting with a brunette clad in a leather jacket, an easygoing smile accompanying the glint in his eyes as he spoke with her. Smirking to yourself, you keep this interaction in mind and turn back to the guy in front of you, grabbing a bucket, loading it with ice and the six coronas he ordered, popping the tab off one before handing it to him with a smile, “Here ya go.”

The blond shoots you a smile, and pats a hand on the bar, shouting a “thanks” back in your direction. Moving around your section, you plucked empty bottles off the bar top and disposed of them in the large trash bin under the bar. And just as you were about to grab a clean washrag to tend to simpler tasks than dealing with the local riff raffs of the bar, another patron squeezes their way up to your side of the bar.

Flicking your gaze over to the guy you shoot him a small smile, “I’ll be with you in a second.” Snatching the wash rag, you tuck it into your jean shorts and take two strides back to the bar, leaning your forearms on the top, you shoot the mystery man a small smile, and pose the million-dollar question, “What can I get ya?”

After mixing the jack and coke your customer requested, you accept the twenty and continue working around the bar, popping bottle-tops off Corona’s, Heineken’s, and the bar favorite, Budweiser. All while simultaneously wiping any spills off the countertop.

A few hours later, the Hard Deck is looking less and less crowded, with all the civilians having cleared out. Which allows for you to sidle over to Penny and pester her for the next two hours before closing, sipping on your Coca-Cola in the meantime.

“Haven’t seen you all night, how’d it go?” Penny questions, permanent smile on her face and a light in her eyes you haven’t seen in a while.

Quirking your head to the side, you raise your eyebrows, “Clearly not as eventful as yours,” you smirk. Wiggling your eyebrows you throw out a second question, “Who’s got you all hot and bothered?”

Penny giggles at your playfulness, swatting at you with her dishrag, “No one special.”

“Now that, is a lie if I’ve ever heard one.” you point at her with the pinky finger that had been resting around the bright red can you’ve been holding.

Bringing the can back up to your lips, you smile, “Wouldn’t have anything to do with that brunette with the brown leather jacket decorated in naval patches, would it?”

This earns you another swat from the dishrag.

Leaning away from her, your smirk grows wider, “I’m taking that as a yes.”

Penny playfully glares at you for the second time today, and peers around you, nodding her head in the direction of your side of the bar, “You’ve got another one.”

Giggling to yourself you turn your head in the direction Penny motioned to, the sight before you halting your giggling almost instantaneously.

Bradley Bradshaw.

Cussing under your breath, you take the last sip of your coke and turn to make your way towards him, receiving a swat from Penny’s dishrag in the process.

“Bradshaw.”

The man of the hour turns in his seat towards you, honey brown eyes gazing into yours for a brief moment before one side of his mouth quirks up into a half smile, “Hey.”

“What made the navy drag your ass back here for?” you ask, snorting at his attempt at remaining casual, folding your arms over each other, jutting your hip out in a stance that you hope comes across as vaguely threatening.

Bradley taps his thumb on the bar top and shoots you an award-winning smile, “I’m not really sure about that yet, sweets” he states, his voice coming out in a low rasp, while his eyes wander behind you towards the bottles of liquor.

Rolling your eyes at the nickname, you open your mouth to shoot him a smart-ass retort, but instead, choose to close it and offer up the same line you use on everyone else, “What can I get you to drink?”

Bradley refocuses his eyes back onto yours, lips forming into a frown at your lack of retaliation, “Bottle of Budweiser if you have any would be great.”

Moving on autopilot, you bend down and sort through the fridge for another Budweiser, gripping the bottle and popping the top off, before sliding it forward towards the tall hunk of muscle in front of you, “You opening up a tab?”

Bradley looks over towards the pool tables where his friends were gathered around, no doubt betting on who was going to have to pay for the next round of beers. Turning his attention back to you, he stands from his seat, pulling his wallet out from his back jean pocket and holds his card out to you, “If you don’t mind, that’d be great sweets” sending you a small smile in the process.

Plucking the card from his grasp, you send a sarcastic smile his way before turning to the computer to input his information.

Bradley lets his gaze linger on you for a moment, then sets off back to his friends.

Hangman is the first to comment on Bradley’s singular beer and the sour look on his face, earning him a rough shove from Phoenix.

Nat turns to face Bradley, offering a sympathetic look, “Didn’t go well I take it?” she mumbles.

Hangman snorts and gestures with his beer towards the bar where you’re currently standing with Penny, “Judging by the way she’s standing,” sucking a breath through his teeth, “I’d say it went swimmingly.”

Jake goes to sip his beer with a smirk on his lips, satisfied with his dig, until Natasha forcefully bumps his elbow, forcing his beer to miss his mouth and instead spill down his shirt. Glancing towards her, scowl present on his face, Nat flutters her eyelashes and pouts, “Oops.”

Bradley covers his laugh with a sip of his beer, looking towards the dart board as a distraction.

“Maybe you should go get cleaned up.” Phoenix smiles, her words sickeningly sweet and not up for debate.

Grumbling to himself, Jake gets up from his seat and makes his way towards the bathroom of the Hard Deck. Once he’s out of sight, Nat fixes her gaze on Bradley, “Alright, tell me what’s going on.”

A huff slips past Bradley’s lips and he slumps into the seat adjacent to Phoenix, “That’s the thing Nat, it’s not really going anywhere.”

Nursing her own beer, Nat plays with the perspiration sliding down the bottle, “It’s probably gonna take some time Bradley. You can’t just show up after not talking to her for a year,” sparing you a brief glance she watches the way you smile and pop a cap off the bottle for a customer you’d been serving for the better half of the night, “stuff like that actually bothers a girl yaknow” emphasizing her words with a pointed look.

Bradley taps his thumb against the tabletop, a low groan leaving his throat, “I know Nat, I just didn’t know how to tell her I was being deployed for six months and then dealing with the Uranium mission on top of that,” he pauses briefly to sip on his beer, “It’s not fair to her.”

Natasha nods briefly, understanding where he’s coming from, “I get that, but that’s not your decision to make.” Pointing at him with her bottle briefly, she maneuvers it to gesture towards you, “She’s a big girl, she can make her own decisions.”

Bradley nods his head in understanding, moving his gaze to survey the room briefly, a red blush painting his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

Sensing how flustered he was Nat slaps the table and shoots him a sympathetic smile, “I’m going to get us a few more beers from our favorite girl. When I get back, you’re going to be done with all that sulking and were going to kick Coyote and Hangman’s asses in eight ball.”

An, “In your dreams hot shot,” settling over both Natasha’s and Bradley’s ears, the pair rolling their eyes simultaneously at the overconfident voice of Jake Seresin.

“Ready to start cleaning up? It’s twenty minutes before we close.” Penny asks, the clinking of glass bottles ringing in your ears when she tosses them into the trash.

Peeking at her from over your shoulder you send an exhausted smile her way, “Definitely, tonight’s rush took a lot out of me.”

Biting her lower lip, Penny begins wiping down the counter, “That the only thing that took a lot out of you tonight? Or did a certain tall, mustached naval aviator have something to do with it?”

She doesn’t look over at you when you whip your head to glare at her, instead choosing to continue to innocently wipe at the sticky bar top.

“Don’t start.”

Moving away from her, you begin to collect the remaining empties and toss them in the trash.

Ignoring her for another ten minutes, you busy yourself by sweeping up around the front of the building, avoiding Bradley and his lingering group of friends.

Maneuvering back to the bar, you grab the remaining glasses and bring them to the dishwasher in the backroom. Once you’ve loaded it up, you put in the dishwasher detergent and start it on a regular cycle, heading back out to the bar to help Penny finish up.

Gripping the rag in your hand you begin wiping down any places Penny may have missed, hyper fixating on the task at hand to avoid looking over at the man who ghosted you a year ago.

Penny eases herself into the space you were occupying, placing a hand on your shoulder in an attempt at gaining your attention. Looking up to the ceiling you breathe out, turning your head to give her your full attention. An apologetic smile is what meets you and you instantly feel your resolve soften.

“I’m only going to say this once, and from now on I won’t mention it.” Nodding her head in Bradley’s direction she continued, “He’s a good guy Hon, but unfortunately, he’s still a guy. And guys make stupid mistakes. Trust me,” an eye roll from her ensuing shortly after.

“I’m not telling you that you need to forgive him, but maybe hear him out?” she coaxes.

Looking over towards him, you watch as his drunken form laughs with his friends, “I’ll think about it Pen.”

“Okay honey,” leaning away from you she squeezes your shoulder, “Oh and I’ve gotta go pick up Amelia, soo could you close up?” she pleads.

Throwing your head up, you laugh, “Oh I see, just trying to butter me up so you can sneak out to go be with that Naval officer.”

Penny bites her lip at the thought and begins heading for the door, “Not yet, but maybe eventually,” she vocalizes, shooting you a wink in the process. “Alright guys and gals, time to go!” she calls out to the last group lingering at the back of the bar.

The blond calls back to her, “You got it Pen!”

Giggling to yourself, you finish up a few more tasks as the remaining aviators file out. Going to the storage room to grab some beers to restock the fridges for the following day, it’s always easier on you guys the next day if you restock the night before.

Heading back out to the bar you notice the handsome aviator you’ve been avoiding all night, sitting right where he had been earlier that night.

“Heyyy” Bradley smiles, clearly drunk judging by the flush that’s blossomed over his cheeks, neck, and ears.

Chuckling to yourself, you let an amused smile crawl across your face, “To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you again?”

Bradley hiccups and leans his head on the bar top, “I need to,” another hiccup interrupts him before he continues, “close out my tab” he rasps.

Nodding to yourself, you go over to the computer and close out his tab, printing his receipt and wrapping it around his card, you turn back to him and place the card on the bar top, sliding it towards his drunken form.

Bradley looks you over and smiles, “You’re really pretty.”

Choosing not to laugh at his words you fold your arms over each other and smile at him, “How are you getting home, Bradley?”

He hums, still looking you over in a daze, “I drove.”

Shifting a little in his seat, he uses one arm to reach into his back pocket, presenting you with the keys to his infamous blue bronco, jingling them in front of you with a goofy smile on his face.

Leaning towards him you grip your hand around his, easing the keys from his hand into yours. His eyes watching your hand as it encloses around his.

“I’ll be taking those big boy.”

Bradley groans, reaching his arms out towards you as you lean away from him, “Nooo, come back, I need those.” he whines out.

Shaking your head you muffle a chuckle at his drunkenness, “Bradshaw you can’t drive yourself home,” nibbling on your lower lip you spit the words out before you can take them back, “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

Bradley shoots his head up at your statement, “You’re taking me, where?” he questions.

Rounding the bar, you grab your purse in the process heading towards Bradley, “I am going to take you home.”

“How do you know where I live?” he asks, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. Cute.

Smirking at him, you quirk your own eyebrow, “I’m a witch.”

Bradley points at you lazily and whispers, “If you’re a witch, then tell me what I’m thinking about right now.” Promptly closing his eyes afterwards.

Looking up, you shake your head, smile growing wider on your face, “Burgers” you declare confidently, crossing your arms in the process. As if this motherfucker didn’t spend every waking minute with you for a year.

His eyes instantly open, mouth dropping in amazement, an emphasized “Yes” leaving his lips.

Offering your hand to him, you give him a small nod, “We can get some on the way home if you want?”

Bradley eyes you skeptically, “You promise?”

Smiling, you fold your fingers in, leaving your pinky out for him, “I promise.”

Slowly, Bradley wraps his own pinky around yours, giving it a firm squeeze.

“Alright, let’s get going. Joey’s Burgers sounds amazing right now.” Giving his hand a squeeze, you lead the way out of the bar, Bradley stumbling behind you, mumbling about some triple patty burger that they recently added to the menu.

Once the two of you managed to make it out the front door, you turned back to lock up, Bradley leaning his head on your shoulder as you did, making it a little more difficult to maneuver around in the process.

“Okay tiger, lets get you in the car.”

Leaning his weight on you some more, he scrunches up his face in confusion, “I’m not tiger, I’m rooster.”

Lugging his weight across the graveled parking lot and towards the bronco, you snicker at his words, “I know Bradley, it’s just a nickname.” Earning a low groan from Bradley in response.

Once you’ve made it to the bronco, you focus on getting Bradley’s passenger door open, all while he leans more and more of his weight on you, at this rate the navy should just hire you if you can lug a full-grown man around a dark gravel parking lot.

After you’ve managed to get the door open, you coax Bradley into the passenger seat with the promise of burgers and a movie once you got him home. Rounding the car after ensuring he’s buckled himself in and jumping into the driver's seat.

Looking over towards him, you note the way he’s leaned his head against the window, arms folded over each other, in what you could only guess is an attempt at staying warm. Mindful of his potentially cold state, you don’t bother with turning the air conditioning on, and keep the volume of the radio low, trying to allow Bradley to relax as much as possible. He’s lucky he’s cute when he’s drunk.

Pulling out of the parking lot of the Hard Deck, you make your way down the street to Joey’s Burgers, ordering two large fries, two medium soda’s, one triple patty burger for Bradley, and one regular cheeseburger (with only ketchup) for yourself. Then continuing your mission of getting Bradley back home for the night before he’s sobered enough to realize he’d not only let you drive him home, but also from the driver’s seat of his beloved bronco.

Parking Bradley’s bronco wasn’t an issue, however, getting Bradley to move out of his passenger seat was.

Pleadingly, you rushed out a whispered, “Bradley, please get out of the car, you can’t stay in there all night.”

Receiving only an annoyed grumble in response, you tried again in the form of bribery, “I got you your favorite burger from Joey’s, if you get out of the car you can eat it while we watch a movie.”

This gets his attention and before you know it, you’re lugging Bradley out of his seat and across the parking lot. Somehow, he’s gotten heavier in the past twenty minutes of your drive. Mumbling to no one in particular, you let out a low, “He’s got a lot of groveling to do after this.” Huffing out a breath, you manage to pull him up the steps of the cozy one-story house, forcing Bradley to lean against the wall while you unlock the door.

Once you’ve managed to get the door open, you pull the brunette aviator over the threshold and towards the couch, kicking the door closed once you’ve made it inside.

The grey couch that had been centered towards the edge of the living room absorbs a drunk Bradley Bradshaw into its cushions, earning a content hum from him in response.

Throwing yourself down next to him, an audible sigh slips past your lips, leaning your head against the cushions in an attempt at seeking a moment of comfort before you inevitably must help Bradley into bed.

Lolling his head to the side Bradley fixes his gaze on you, eyes trailing across the expanse of your face, when the question, “What happened to my burger?” comes tumbling out of his mouth.

A sharp laugh is what Bradley gets in response, along with a, “I swear you become more and more like a dog as the night goes on.” Bradley is too drunk to understand what that’s supposed to mean, so instead, he widens his eyes and tilts his head a little, a silent question in regard to the aforementioned burger.

Yep, definitely dog like.

Swiping the bag of burgers and fries from the table, you pull Bradley’s special burger; along with a few napkins, out and hand them over to the man of the hour, who immediately starts to gobble it down like he hasn’t eaten in days.

While the man who resembles a golden retriever consumes his food next to you, you start the venture of looking for a movie you wouldn’t mind focusing your attention on until Bradley falls asleep, settling on “How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days”.

Settling into the couch again, you curl your legs up underneath you and proceed to snack on the fries you’d gotten.

Everything was calm, for a total of thirty seconds.

Your peace being ruined by an overgrown buffoon looming over you to steal one of your fries from its container.

“You know, I got you your own fries,” you snicker, side-eyeing the Topgun graduate who has resorted to looking like a kicked puppy from your scolding.

“Yours tastes better.”

Snorting at the remark, you shake your head in exasperation, “Finish your food and if you’re still hungry, you can have some of mine.”

Seemingly pleased with the compromise, Bradley gets comfortable on the couch once more, and continues with consuming the fried potato.

After some time has passed, Bradley satisfied with his food and no longer pestering you for yours, you make an attempt to clean up. Which is instantly foiled by a tipsy Bradley Bradshaw, “Why do you hate me?”

“I don’t hate you Bradley,” you wave him off, continuing your advances towards the kitchen.

Bradley forces himself off of the couch, stumbling after your composed form, “Sure seemed like it earlier.”

Tossing the leftover food in the trash, you grab a paper towel and the spray bottle of cleaner he always left under the sink, “And I don’t recall you being particularly sober within the past two hours.”

A small smirk graces Bradley’s lips while he leans his body weight against the doorframe of the kitchen arms folded over each other, “I had a triple patty burger from Joey’s an hour ago.”

Rolling your eyes at his retort, you push past him to get back to his living room, “You’re welcome then.”

Like a piece of gum on the bottom of your shoe, Bradley follows after you, “You don’t have to clean.”

Better than having to look at him while he’s sober and engage in this conversation.

Pulling your eyebrows together, you force yourself to concentrate on the coffee table littered with grease stains from the bag and a few misplaced French fries, completely ignoring Bradley’s piercing gaze.

Hearing him sigh, your gaze breaks from the table and flits to where he’s standing. Looks more like leaning to you since he’s clearly still feeling some of the effects of the alcohol. As your eyes roam over his figure, you take in his posture, his arms, and lastly his eyes, which are locked on yours and the way you’re examining him.

Looking up to the ceiling, you huff, bending to your full height. Abandoning the damp paper towel on the semi-clean coffee table before you address him.

“I don’t hate you.”

Bradley’s eyebrows lift, one side of his mouth quirking up in a half-hearted smirk, mustache following suit, “So you’ve said.”

Your eyebrows crease while your eyes pinch, fixing him with a glaring look, “But I don’t appreciate being led on for months either,” your tone heavy in the way you spoke to him.

Bradley visibly winces at the jab, “I know, not my proudest moment.”

Crossing your arms over each other, you jut your hip out, “Why’d you do it then?”

Bradley crosses the room slowly, moving closer to your defensive stance with a slowness that resembled someone afraid of spooking a baby deer, “I didn’t want you to get caught up in all my shit.”

“One mission for six months is bad enough,” he pauses, “Another mission with no guarantee of survival a month after the last isn’t something I wanted to put you through.”

Your frown that you’d adorned for majority of this conversation, deepens, “That’s not something you get to decide, Bradley.”

A forced chuckle slips past your lips, “I’m a big girl, I’ve been able to make my own decisions for myself, for years. I don’t need you and your hero complex thinking you can make those decisions for me.”

Your eyes roam his face scowl still prominent. Finally uncrossing your arms, you poke a finger into his chest, “You should be able to trust me enough to tell me those things, and allow me to decide if it’s too much,” you pause taking a step back, hand retreating back to your side, “or if I care about you enough to stick around.”

Bradley tenderly reaches for the hand you’d forced back to your side, threading his fingers through yours, “I know, trust me I do. I just thought I’d be protecting you,” he breathes out, using his hand to bring you closer to him.

Your hardened gaze softens at his words, he thought he could protect you from himself, from heartache.

Settling your other hand on his chest, you tilt your chin up, the height difference between the two of you showing in the close distance you’re in.

“Like I said before,” you whisper, “That kind of decision I can make on my own.”

Bradley’s eyes are half-lidded as he looks at you, processing your words and what to do next with them.

Silence falls over the two of you, the only noise emanating from the tv next to you.

Breaking his gaze, you look behind him to see the clock hanging from the wall that’s surrounded by framed pictures of his parents along with a few pictures of himself with some of his squadron, taking note of the time.

Glancing back to him, you mumble, “You should probably go to bed.”

Bradley huffs at your suggestion but makes no move to argue.

Instead, he grips your other hand in his and pulls you closer, tilting his head to the side, “Tuck me in?”

Laughing to yourself at his suggestion, you give him a small nod, taking the lead down the hall to his bedroom, “Sure, do you want some warm milk while were at it?” you tease.

Bradley hums from behind you, “Now that you mention it,” he trails off, biting his lower lip to contain his laughter.

“Keep dreaming aviator,” you chortle.

“Oh I intend to,” is the retort you get in return.

Turning into his bedroom you push him towards his closet and gesture for him to change, turning your back to him in an attempt to avoid being distracted by his charm and physique, reacquainting yourself with his bedroom instead.

Not much has changed apart from the bedding which had gone from a pale blue to a darker green.

A raspy, “I’m decent,” makes its way to your ears and you turn to look for the source. Intaking a sharp breath at the sight of Bradley Bradshaw in a plain white t-shirt, and boxers, eyes roaming the expanse of his body before deciding you’ve ogled him too much.

Moving your eyes away from his lower half, you make your way to the closet in search of your own shirt and boxer combo, cause if you’re staying there’s no way you’re staying in your “The Hard Deck” tank top and jean shorts.

Wordlessly, Bradley sidles up behind you and reaches for his old training tee from his first days at Topgun, handing you the shirt and a pair of gray boxers to match.

Mumbling a soft “Thanks”, you make sure he turns all the way around before stripping down to put the new garments on.

Once comfortable, you glance to the opposite side of the bed Bradley’s in, fiddling with your fingers as you fight yourself on whether or not you can trust yourself with him again.

Screw it.

Acting before fully thinking through your decision, you climb into bed beside him, hiding under the covers for some warmth, and maybe from Bradley.

It’s Bradley’s warm hands that bring you out of your thoughts, hooked around your waist and pulling you to him, “You’re thinking too loud,” he mumbles, one leg slotting between yours.

Reaching up with your right hand, you glide your fingers through his locks, earning a sigh of content from him, “I just don’t want to get hurt again,” you confess, tugging your lower lip between your teeth.

The confession has Bradley propping himself up onto his elbow, his free hand finding your own, putting it square against his, measuring the sizes of your individual palms, slotting his fingers between your own once he’s satisfied.

“I can’t promise that being with me will never hurt,” he states, swallowing the lump in his throat.

Sighing, he continues, “I don’t know if something will happen to me when I’m in the air.”

You nod solemnly at his confession, running everything over in your head, the pros and cons of being with him, loving him. What that might do to you.

Bradley tilts his head toward yours, catching your eyes once more, “But,” he pauses, “I can promise that I’ll never voluntarily hurt you again, and I will do everything in my power to come home to you.” He finishes, voice shaky and his eyes displaying a vulnerability you’ve never seen before.

Scanning his honey-colored irises, you search for any doubt he may have hidden, finding none, a soft smile graces your lips.

Leaning forward, you nudge your forehead against his, eyes fluttering closed at the contact, “Okay” you whisper.

Opening your eyes to scan his face, trailing along the faint freckles that litter his cheeks, your smile widens, “but this is your last shot Bradshaw, don’t ruin it,” you tease.

Bradley grins back at you before closing the gap between the two of you, slotting his lips against yours in a kiss that had been a long time coming; by at least a year.

His tongue traces the bottom of your lip and without much coaxing, you open your mouth enough for him to slip his tongue in, maneuvering his body over yours for easier access. Bradley slides his hands down your frame to trace circles into your hip, while the other braces himself next to you.

Breaking the kiss, Bradley maneuvers his lips down towards your exposed neck, trailing open mouthed kisses lower each time before coming back to your lips, catching them with his over and over until the two of you have settled into a relaxed state, lazy open-mouthed kisses replacing the urgent ones you were enacting before.

Gently reaching your hand up, you slot your fingers into Bradley’s tousled locks, tugging ever so slightly, earning a low groan from him in response.

Smiling to yourself, you slot your lips against his one last time before leaning back, appraising him with a gentle smile adorning your lips, “I thought we agreed on sleep?”

Chuckling, Bradley moves a stray hair out of your face, “Sweets, will you please put me out of my misery and go on a date with me?”

Clicking your tongue, you drag him down closer to you, snuggling into his chest as you make yourself comfortable.

“Mmm, dating the bartender, huh? Hope it’s for more than free drinks,” you quiz, trailing a hand down to his abs, tracing each one with your fingers.

A tender kiss is placed to the crown of your head, while one large hand sneaks under the back of your shirt, tracing small circles across your skin, “Definitely.”

Humming, you close your eyes, content with the warmth emanating from Bradley and his tender touches, “That’s nice.”

Bradley chuckles at your drowsy state, “So is that a yes?”

He receives a chaste kiss that’s pressed to his shirt, right where his heart is as you mumble out, “It’s a yes Bradshaw.”

#bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster x reader #topgun maverick #rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster fanfic #topgun fic #bradley bradshaw imagines

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𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐔𝐏 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐘𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐃. + 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐌𝐀 𝐊𝐎𝐙𝐔𝐌𝐄

masterlist. / taglist. / any request? synopsis. when your high school boyfriend broke your heart and destroyed your sense of self-worth, the last person you expected to mend it was some awkward scrawny gamer and his four-year-old son. video link inspo~

pairing. dlif!kenma kozume x fem!reader

word count. 4.1k

genre and warnings. +18 nsfw under the cut. minors dni, dilf!Kenma, ex!Oikawa, strangers to lovers, pwp, but the plot is holding on by a thread, black-coded reader, fluff, kid fic, cheating, toxic relationship, trust issues, Harue being an Ipad kid, hurt/comfort, clothed sex, biting, spanking, spit as lube, rough sex, light choking, finger sucking, underwear ripping, unprotected sex, creampie, slight nipple play, praise kink, whiny Kenma, slight femdom at the end, mentions of pregnation, domestic vibes, eye contact, not beta'd sorry bae | — first anime piece, feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

You and Oikawa had been high school sweethearts up until the second year of college.

You were a headstrong yet deeply hopelessly romantic type of person, the type to wear their heart on their sleeve, which was probably why you had fallen hard and fast for Oikawa’s charming charisma the moment you first met during your first year of high school.

It was also the reason it took you six years to realize your boyfriend had been cheating on you with several different women behind your back since he left for college, and another year to realize he was not going to change after you had to officially let him go.

You discovered that during your relationship, you were constantly competing with other women who were just better than you at holding his attention.

Starting with transferring universities just so that you two could spend more time together, hoping that without the distance, he would pay you more mind or even fully pay the rent to your shared apartment in hopes that maybe, just maybe, he would come back home to you at night.

You had fallen to rock bottom trying to rekindle that light that you two once shared together, holding onto the dearest memories hoping that he would see how hard you were trying to change just to please him.

To no avail, the night you came home early during your lunch break to find him in your bed with another woman had been the final nail in the coffin that buried all hopes of mending your love life.

The first thing you did was kick him out, throwing all of his shit from the balcony window, and leaving him on the curb in nothing but his underwear trying to defend himself. In the same week, you decided it was better to just drop out of college and move back in with your parents, giving up on love completely.

Leaving your bedroom only to go to work or feed yourself, you had settled nicely into the single and bitter lifestyle for merely two years. Becoming an expert at dodging your family's questions that start with that special someone.

You had to admit that you had purposely not been seeking any type of inmate relationship with anyone since your ex. Discovering the still hollowing pit in your stomach seeing pictures of Oikawa seemingly with a new, different , beautiful girl on his Instagram account every month.

You also understood that stalking your ex’s account was everything but the first step to moving on and going through acceptance, but your curiosity would just get the best of you every time you would scroll through your feed and flinch at seeing his posts.

It didn't help that while he was so busy living through his peak in adult life, you were stuck working the night shift, stocking up just to keep your side of the rent afloat.

At the prime age of twenty-one, your life felt so meaningless at the prime age of twenty-one even your parents nagged you about needing to stay out more and for better hobbies that didn't involve staying up for long periods of time with a PS4 controller in your hands.

While most women your age were out doing hot girl shit, you were trying not to get back pain from squatting down to self things. You were lucky enough to get scheduled for the night shifts, only having a minimal amount of customer interactions at the twenty-four-hour Target.

The only people that would step foot inside the store around where you worked were usually guys looking to buy condoms or high school students looking to buy snacks.

The last thing you expected to see walking down your aisle was a lone child taking a look around.

Being in the book aisle, you had half expected the kid to have taken a wrong turn trying to get to the video games section, but to your surprise, the child seemed interested in the arranged literature that was stacked in front of him.

Only being able to reach to the second shelf, standing on the tip of his shoes, reaching for a book, you couldn't help but smile at the adorable sight, side-stepping closer and grabbing it instead to help him.

"Here you go kid," just as you were about to hand the book away you froze at the bold printed title; Wine, Dine and 69 ways to get some: A Locker Room Guide to Scoring with the Beautiful Women of the World. Your smile dropped as your face fell neutral, glancing at the doe-eyed boy that came up to your hip in height in concern.

"Thank you, Unnie," he replied politely, taking the book from your hands with a slight lisp in his voice as his front teeth were missing, not being able to properly pronounce symbols yet still being able to shock you completely in how to handle the situation.

"Don’t you think you're a little too young to be reading something like this?" You ask him with a quirked brow.

The little boy doesn't seem to understand the oddity in his choice of literature, holding out the book with both hands as his eyes scanned over the cover, not fully able to process some of the letters before nodding his head as if he had figured out something.

"Oh, it's not for me, it's for my dad. I’m trying to help him get some." As if it were surprising enough, something about the child openly indicating that his father needed to get laid made you smack your hand over your mouth in the habit of holding back your laughter, struggling to keep your professional adult composer.

"And just where is your dad?" You had just now realized how huge and bright the kid’s eyes were, almost a golden yellow shade as they widened, turning their heads frantically looking around the isle, finally realizing that he was without his guardian.

His lip poked out, his arms crossed with the book between him. You hadn’t got much of the ocussicanal baby fever hype. The need to want a clone of yourself was not really something that you had much in mind since breaking up with Oikawa, ruining your entire perception of growing up and starting a family with some other man.

"What a dick," He spouts harshly, "He left me again." as if it weren't the first time he had to call his father out; you weren't as lucky as the last time out, backing your reaction with a small "oop." passing through your lips before you could stop it.

"How about we go find him before he starts to get worried?" You offer to take his hand and abandon your station, starting to walk down the main aisle towards one of the intercom phones.

You hadn’t even fully made your way up a different section of the store before the kid jerked his hand away, passing by the video game section, his little shoes pattering against the tiled floors before engulfing an older man that was browsing the Nintendo games in a hug. "You said you wouldn't leave me again, you liar."

"I’m not a liar; you're the one who wandered away first." The man’s eyes glance at his son, seemingly unbothered by his frantic state, even grabbing the child by the top of his head and pushing him away to grab another Nintendo controller box from the shelf.

"You're supposed to look for me. What if a bad stranger tries to kidnap me?"

"Bad strangers only kidnap cute kids," he says blandly. The child, taking huge offense to his father's teasing, his dramatic gasp, and head turn, eyeing you in disbelief, made you stiff. Having both of them notice your existence while standing just a few feet away made you stiffer still.

You watch him stiffen up, completely clearing his throat and awkwardly setting aside the controller box before picking it back up once he realized that he needed a new one.

From how easily he turned skittish, you were starting to understand why he needed a bit of help talking to women, to the point where even his son was struggling to find outside advice on how to help his dad score.

That had been your first introduction to the single father, the second time coming around that falling week when you had caught the pair during their day out.

The little boy was chewing his father out in the middle of the GameStop for murdering his Minecraft dog, so in revenge, he made him return the game entirely, claiming to be "scared for life." Then you were able to formally introduce yourself and have since formed a pretty odd relationship with the two boys.

Harue called you almost every day from Kenma’s iPad, just to tell you how his day went or ask if you wanted to come over and play games with him. Much to Kenma’s muttering protest, telling his son how you had more important things to do than come over, much to his surprise, you hadn’t.

During your first visit, you quickly realized how truly loaded Kenma was, meeting Harue outside in the lobby of the penthouse, the kid rambling the entire elevator ride up to the top floor.

It was also around that time that you found out they had been set financially for life because of Kenma’s microcelebrity status as a gaming review channel that harbored around six million subscribers as well as owning a huge percentage of big company stocks.

But despite their being extremely wealthy, the main reason you always came around was that they were genuinely charming because you thought the two had the most entertaining and most positive personalities that you've ever met.

You loved to spend time with the two, enjoying their constant bickering and debates on which game character was better than the other, which fast food place they should order dinner from that day, and even being the middleman on which sports car they should drive just to go to their local game store.

You have also learned that Kenma’s baby momma didn't even claim Harue. The two weren't even together when she showed up on Kenma’s doorstep crying about being a few months pregnant after ghosting him the night after their first date.

Once he had gotten comfortable around you, Kenma was very open about regretting having a one-night stand with the woman, but always made it clear to Harue that he would never change a thing if it meant he would end up being his dad.

As the year continued, you quickly realized the feelings you had for Kenma were more than friendly, and that fucking scared you.

But Harue, being the master matchmaker that he was (along with using his dad’s credit card to purchase dating advice books), would always set up you and Kenma to fall into some scheme that would always leave you two alone and flustered in each other's company until you had gotten tired of the whole awkward talking phase and bit the bullet, leading to a shared confession between you two.

You had to admit it was odd getting back into the dating scene, but you were also a very petty bitch and made it known to everyone that you were practically dating a millionaire.

An evil smirk would always spread across your lips. Oikawa would always be one of the first people to swipe through your Instagram stories of Kenma and you spending the night at a fancy restaurant or view your Tiktok videos of you and Harue failing to attempt some new trend online.

Your lives had changed drastically in just a year of knowing Kenma. Spending another year dating each other felt like a dream waking up next to him every day.

★ . . . !

As you continued to poke and prod at your braids, cursing yourself for thinking the thirty-inch locs were anything but practical for the poor, plain eight-dollar pack of hair scrunchies you had purchased from Target.

Some strands had managed to peek through when you were molding the bun into place on your head with two elastics. No matter how many times you huffed and leaned down, convinced you were going to pass out just trying to tuck them away.

Leaning in closer to the mirror, humming at the sight of your hairstyle, your lips pouting as you tilted your head to the side before your eyes caught sight of your boyfriend through the glass, wanting a second opinion on how you looked.

Swaying towards the bathroom's wide door frame, you gave a small pose that had caught his attention, turning away from the YouTube video that played from the flatscreen mounted across the room.

Kenma’s brow arched in confusion, his eyes gliding down your figure before meeting your eyes once more, expecting him to at least compliment you, your arms failing, gesturing towards your hair. "Does this look?"

"It looks fine." He shrugged his shoulders, his face as neutral as the first day you had first met him.

Since you two had started dating, Kenma’s walk-in closet had gone through a drastic change, his usually neutral color shades expanding to warmer and brighter colors that were still in his comfort zone.

It was like you had become his personal stylist, the way you would have to pick out his outfits for any occasion that was remotely close to formal in any way.

On the night of your anniversary, you had to convince him to take a shower and wear a dark gray sweater vest despite his claims of it making him look like a fucking nerd. You had paired it with a white collar button down that peeked from the bottom and covered the belt of his black slacks.

You could already tell he was itching to remove the layers, already yanking at the neckline of his vest and eyeing his gaming console from across the room.

In addition to trying your best to make the night as perfect as possible, you had to physically peel Harue away from his VR set with the bribe of McDonald's and make him spend the night at one of his friend's house just to secure as much time alone with Kenma as possible.

"Just fine?" you asked once more, earning a side glance from Kenma, his expression now blank as his arms crossed over his chest. You had known him long enough to understand every expression and gesture that the grown man made. You had considered it a curse at this point to be able to understand him so clearly.

"Ah!" you shout, snapping your fingers out towards him as if he were a dog caught doing something wrong. "Fix your face, you're too damn old to be whining about having to go outside." Then, you returned back into the bathroom to examine yourself once more, your fingers flattening the creases in your black cocktail dress as it stuck and shaped all of your curves perfectly.

"Now come make yourself useful and help me zip this please." Your request was quickly followed by a dramatic sigh, Kenma dragging his feet until he approached from behind you, with his hands guiding your hips still in place.

Your eyes rolled as he held eye contact through his thick lashes, teasing by biting into your shoulder. "We don’t have time for you to be kinky right now." With a hitch of your breath, you had managed to distract yourself by rummaging through your jewelry box, eyeing the different assortment of gold and silver necklaces that you thought would work well with the low cut of your dress.

Kenma didn't seem to mind your distaste, only continuing to trail small kisses up your neck, your thighs pressing together, his hand wandering down to the plump of your ass, winding his hand back and smacking it with an open palm as if he had owned it. "How do you expect me not to act up when you look so good?" he whispered in your ear, recognizing the dark gaze in his eyes.

You ignored it, holding up a single golden hoop earring to see if the design would clash with your dress as Kenma continued to fondle your ass through your dress. "You said I looked fine," you scoffed, smacking his hand away.

Kenma only chuckled, "So fucking fine," his long fingers reaching around to fondle your breast instead of guiding your hips back into his crotch, pushing against his erection. You allowed him to manhandle you into place, only sighing as you were quickly wrapped around his finger, caught in the web of his dorky charm that always left you leaning in for more.

"In fact," he hummed, using the hook of his fingers to drape the straps of your dress down your shoulders. "Let me show you how pretty I think you look." Already he had started to strip you, holding eye contact when his hand pressed against the middle of your back, bending you against the cold marble sink.

His fingers trailed under the hem of the ass, yanking it over your ass, exposing your lace panties, and looking down at you like he had unwrapped the best present ever. With the sound of his belt struggling to get loose, you couldn't help but peek at his fingers eagerly trying to shake loose from the metal belt.

The sound of your chuckling reaction makes him glare up at you, yanking the leather from the belt loops and zipping his pants to release his cock, his fingers making quick work of your lace thumb, tracing over the material against your clit before hooking them to the side and tearing them. "My bad," he says half-heartedly.

"I’ll buy you another pair." Spitting in his hand and lathering his length in a mix of your wet arousal thrusting himself against your lips with a breathy sigh.

His hand reaches out to grab around the front of your neck, forcing you to stand with your back pressed against his chest. "I want to see you." He mutters in your ear, a shiver running up your spine as he curved his thumb to tilt your head up to get a better look at your reaction in the mirror.

Your knees are almost bucking into the counter, smacking a hand against the surface to keep yourself from falling forward from the feeling of his fingers spreading apart your lips to press his cock inside of you with little to no ease.

His pace started off mercifully, as with every thrust you chased after the feeling of being stuffed so fully, "so pretty ___," Kenma sighs, his fingers pushing past your lips and into your mouth, your tongue instantly wrapping around the digit as his rhythm sped up into deeper strokes.

The squelching noises and the sound of skin on skin echo through the bathroom. Every thrust Kenma had to hold as you felt light-headed every time the head of his cock would rub against the spot that made all your muscles feel like jelly.

Practically an expert at knowing every nook and cranny of your body, "Ken, just like that–" you whine around his finger. He only replied in a low hum, his eyes focused on your body, entirely convinced that he had known your body more than you did from the way he would leave you feeling dizzy and your legs wobbling from an orgasm.

His hands let you go free as you slumped against the counter in the new position. Kenma raises your thigh up by the hook of your knee to angle himself inside deeper, his fingers leaving an indent in the plush of your skin.

Even before you two were comfortable with having sex, he would always be too touchy. His fingers played with the bud of your nipples, grinding against you while spooning and even forcing you to crawl into his lap whenever you made out.

Much to Harue’s disgust, he walked in many times just trying to find where you had run off to, only to see his dad with his tongue down your throat.

To Harue’s luck, you had a strict "no sex while the kid is around" rule to keep any embarrassing and potentially scary childhood memories from forming at a young age.

But you had somehow gotten the worst end of the stick. His son seemed to have gotten the same homebody trait when he was always stuck in the home office with his private tutor.

After he had completed all his work, he never seemed to show any interest in leaving the comfort of his gaming setup. Kenma was left high and dry, usually for weeks until Harue’s friends would invite him over. Kenma suspected that their partners had caught on to his suffering and were practically throwing his son out when they came to pick him up.

He would always make up for the time that you two would spend alone together, eating you out to the point where you had been begging to take a break from how sensitive your cunt was, or making it a goal to fuck on every surface around the house that he possibly could.

"Shit," Kenma yanked the material of your dress away from your ass, his fingers spreading you apart to get the mouthwatering view of his cock sucked in, his length covered in a creamy white coat from your arousal.

His controlled pace makes your thigh tremble, "you look so gorgeous like this angel." His compliments were almost tormenting from the way he had fucked even the gel from your edges, grasping onto your hips tightly as if you’d turn into putty and slip away if he weren't too careful.

"I’m so close," you plead as mascara-covered tears stream down your cheeks, the tightening feeling building in your gut.

The pleasure was unbearable as Kenma made it a point to fuck you like you were a personal sex doll custom made just for him to ruin. His name is constant on the tip of your tongue, moaning and gasping it like it was your favorite word.

Your legs were wobbly like you had just figured out how to use them, planting them both back on the floor, leaning into Kenma’s front, too preoccupied with being fucked stupid to care about how your hips were smashing into the edge of the sink with every thrust.

It wouldn't be the first time Kenma had been the reason you would find questionable bruises on your body in the morning.

Your cunt clenched at the disheveled sight of Kenma who had been completely pussy drunk, his normally pale skin now flushed a light pink hue.

His eyes squeezed tightly shut, with his canine teeth pointing from his lips as he bit in your shoulder to keep himself from whimpering out your name every time your pussy clenched around him so desperately.

Leaning in and grabbing his chin to place a kiss on his mouth, like your lips were a reward. Kenma’s tongue was already poking from his mouth into yours. His fingers naturally gravitated towards your chest, as if he had found comfort in playing with your hardened nipples.

As his thumbs ran across your hardened buds, you shivered, your cunt clenching around him in response."You make me feel so good, baby," His hands gripped tightly against your torso.

His nails dug lightly into your skin, chasing his high, nuzzling his forehead against the back of your neck as he choked on the moan that threatened to pass from his throat.

"I wanna see your face, Ken-ken," you say, even with him plowing into you. You had still managed to sound so demanding.

Kenma was quick to melt into the little obedient boyfriend that he was, revealing his hazel eyes that glistened from the threat of shredding tears from how pussy drunk he felt. "Gonna cum in me, huh—ah, wanna get me all knocked up, pretty boy?" The praise affected him as expected, and Kenma grimaced at it, even ducking his head away as if turning away would be enough to hide his flushed reaction.

With the courage of a racing horse, he had delivered one more smack against your ass, which you thought was a nice finishing touch, apparently too nice as your end tumbled out of your walls, making his hips stutter, struggling to stay in sight at the sight of your orgasm.

The marble countertops were only being used to stabilize you as Kenma tugged out of you and released you on your backside with a low grunt.

There was a moment where clarity had settled in pulling away from his hands that groped at your ass. "I can’t believe your socially awkward ass just fucked me to get out of going to dinner." You hunched over the counter, trying to catch your breath as Kenma wiped your behind clean with a piece of tissue.

next part.

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