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mysicklove · 7 months

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐃

DAY 16: PILLOW HUMPING + PHONE SEX

With: Tamaki Amajiki

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Sub! Top! Tamaki, bottom! gn! reader, praise kink, slight breeding kink, reader is a slight tease and tamaki is trying not to pass out from embaressment, fantasies, creampie in fantasy Y/N? does that need a tag?

A/N: another fic i STRUGGLED with. idk whyyyy.

Tamaki knows he shouldn't be doing this. He knows that if anyone ever saw him, he would be deemed a weirdo, a pervert, really. But it was just so hard.

It's not fair that you left him alone. Its not fair that you made him miss you until his heart ached. It's not fair that you havent touched him in longer than three weeks. Its not fair that he is here, straddling a pillow, while you probably aren't even thinking of him at all.

The whole thing makes him fume red. Humping a pillow was as desperate as it gets. His hand wasnt doing it for him anymore, he needs to move his hips, pretend he is fucking something. It was bound to give him more satisfaction. Or he hoped it did, but it doesnt change the fact that it was embarrassing.

The pillow was soft, but sturdy, and held a bit of stability. It wouldn't crumble against the sheets with each thrust, nor be too feathery to really feel anything. A good pillow – it will work fine.

He wears one of your shirts. An oversized one, that seems to drown him with the fabric. It smelled like you, and he has to refrain from pressing the collar of it against his nose. It would only turn him on more, and thats not what he needed right now.

Tamaki's hands tremble as he adjusts himself. He flips the hem of your shirt upward to give himself a view of his thin cock. Its red, and pulsing, ready for him to begin moving. He brings his hands up to his face, covering it with the back of his palm. “So embarrassing,” He whines into the empty room, but not moving from his position on top of the pillow.

He stables himself, and then very hesitantly drags his hips forward. The bottom of his dick grazes against the pillow and he takes a deep breath. Its soft, slightly cold from the lack of human contact with it, but he doesnt mind warming it up. He grinds himself forward again, his two hands gripping at the front of the pillow to slightly pull it up, giving him more area to brush himself on.

He whimpers, closing his eyes and falling into a steady pace. It's not as pleasurable as he wanted it to be, and it was driving him insane. But he liked the feeling of riding something, and he pretended the pillow was you. The thought spurs him on, and his pace begins to pick up. The movements of his hips are short, quick, and he slightly bounces on it. Tamakis breath becomes short, and he sighs into the open air, throwing his head back and humping whatever surface of the soft fabric he could.

A couple minutes go by and he was on the verge of crying from frustration. It barely made him feel any better, and he was going to have to be here for awhile if he wanted to cum. He grabs onto your shirt and brings it up to his nose, inhaling your scent and groaning into the fabric. It made him feel a bit better.

Suddenly, he hears the familiar vibrations from his phone. He was getting a call, and the last thing he wanted to do was talk to someone. But, he wasn't one to ignore something that could be important. So, he leans forward and flips over the phone. When he sees your name with an abundance of heart emojis that you typed in for your own contant info, his eyes light up.

He inches toward the answer button, but pauses for a second, realizing the position he is in. It was definitely not appropriate to talk to you like this, but he wanted desperately to hear your voice. It was gross and pathetic, but didnt you say you like when he acts pathetic? Besides, you could definitely fix his problem. You know exactly what to do to make him feel good.

So he answers the phone, and waits for you to speak.

“Hey love,” You hum through his phone, and he almost whines out from that alone. He glances back down at his cock, a glob of precum dripping down pathetically onto the pillow. He covers his face in embarrassment.

“Hi Y/N,” He mumbles into the mic, staring at his fingers, and doing anything he can to ignore his cock. He wants to ask you for help, but how? Even after all this time of being together, he has never voiced his sexual wants and needs. It was just too hard to, and besides you always seemed to find out his desires one way or another.

“Whatcha up to?”

Tamaki pauses. Lying was definitely not one of his specialties, and to you? He was a goner for sure. He goes silent for longer than 30 seconds. “Tamaki?”

“Something I shouldn't be doing,” He whispers, falling forward to rest his cheek on the mattress. He still lays straddling the pillow, but now his cock was trapped between his stomach, and the pillow.

A slight giggle comes from the phone, and he gulps, ignoring the way his dick twitches. “Are you doing something naughty?”

Naughty. Such a childish word, but it was the perfect adjective to describe his situation. It made him feel small, and strangely it brought comfort to him. He nods into the mattress, his hips moving without his permission, and continuing their grinding movements.

“You've gotta speak up for me, love.”

He may be shy, but he would never dare to not listen to a command. “Yes. Sorry.”

“Yes what?”

He lets out a small whimper, barely audible over the phone. “‘m doing something…naughty.”

The dark haired boy squirms on the bed, listening to the way you inhale sharply. His hands begin to travel downward, but he stops himself before he could start stroking himself off. “What are you doing, love?”

He goes silent for a couple seconds, and he continues to shift around the bed. He gulps and looks down at his leaking cock, and then away. “I’m….I’m humping a…pillow?”

You let out a dramatic, slightly teasing gasp. “So dirty, Tamaki!”

He wants to curl up into a ball and die from embarrassment. He knows you are just poking fun at him, but truly everything about this was so humiliating. “I-I know! I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I just miss you so much!” He warbles into the mic, wiping away a stray tear before it could fall.

He was so unbelievably cute, and his plea made your heart throb. “S’alright, relax, love. I miss you so much. So so much,” You reassure, closing your eyes to listen to his breathing. ‘

You hear a sniffle on the other end of the phone. “Why are you crying?”

You expected to hear a response declaring how much he missed seeing you, or having you around. Or maybe how lonely he felt. What you didn't expect was for him to say, “‘m not crying! Im frustrated because I cant cum!”

Tamaki being blunt about his needs was unheard of, and the shock of it made you bark a laugh. He shakes his head into the mattress, but begins his humping again. You already knew at this point what he was doing, and he was already as embarrassed as it gets, so he rather search for more pleasure than wither is his own misery.

“Well are you doing it right?”

He pauses his movements. Was there a right or wrong way to do it? His horny brain was screaming at him to just get any sort of friction from the white item, but was there a better way to do it? To feel more pleasurable? “I-I dont know…”

“Aren't you pretending that I'm the pillow?” Your words make him yelp, and you hold back a snicker. You were right of course, but the fact that you knew about it made him want to dig himself a hole to hide in.

But nevertheless, his hips havent stopped their movements. Its a slow pace, just enough to make his breaths heavier. “Yeah,” He breathes into the mic, so quite that you almost missed it.

You hum to yourself, hand traveling over your own body to get yourself in the mood. “Then you need a hole to fuck, dont you, pretty boy?”

The statement causes him to lose his breath and he can't think quick enough to find a response. You continue on, “Put two pillows together so that you can get friction on both sides of your pretty little cock. It will feel so much better,” You encourage, and his eyes instantly travel to the extra pillow just inches away from him. He gulps, but grabs onto it, and places it under his lower stomach and on top of his dick.

“N-Now what?”

“It's not rocket science, silly. Fuck it now. But make sure to keep the pillow beneath your stomach, so that the hole is tighter.”

He blushes at his stupid words, but instead focuses on your advice. He pulls out, and then pushes himself back into the two soft cushions. He groans out, and sets the phone on speaker and places it next to his face. This was way better, and he needed to focus.

You hear his breaths get quicker and you smile. “There ya are. Does it feel better, Tamaki?”

He uses his hands to push the pillows together, creating a even smaller hole. But he nods at your words, staring at your profile picture with tears in his eyes. “W-Wish it was you. Not as tight…Warm.”

You hands travel toward your pants at the words. “Yeah? Use your imagination, love. Pretend that's me, what do you want to do with me?”

His whole body caves over on himself, and he bucks his hips frantically. His face is a bright shade of pink, and he wears a wobbly, but content smile. “Wanna—Wanna….You to tell me what to do,” He whines out, fingers dragging along the beds sheets, wishing it was your back.

You snicker at him, not surprised by his words. “You are hopeless, Tamaki. So submissive, its so cute, you know that? You know how cute you are?”

He covers his face with his arm, moaning and whining into the soft skin. “Stop it…” He mumbles half heartedly, loving every drop of praise from your mouth.

“You love it,” You tease, and he secretly nods into the bedsheets, but not daring to tell you. “Alright, let's have you cum, hmm? Can you close your eyes for me?”

His eyes flutter shut before you could even finish your sentence. “‘kay.”

“Good job,” You murmur, and he gulps, nuzzling his face into the bed, pretending it’s your chest. “Now move your hips for me. In and out, yeah?.”

He doesn’t have to do much, considering that he has been doing this exact same movement for the past couple minutes now. He doesn’t say anything, afraid you may poke fun at him again. “Tamakiiiii,” You purr, “I need to hear a response.”

“Sorry. Yes, yes, I‘m doing it. Promise!” He splutters, trying to maintain a steady pace of breathing. It was feeling so much better with both sides hugging him, but your voice was definitely helping as well.

You let out a breath, and smile. “Good boy. Now, tell me, what are you imagining. Wanna hear the specifics, love.”

He whines at this. He didnt want to expose his thoughts; you would definitely think he was weird. A pervert who cant go a couple weeks without cumming. “Nooooo,” He whimpers, eyes still shut. “So embarrassing.”

Your voice turns commanding in an instant. “Oh? Stop moving then.”

Unwillingly he listens, his body so used to listening to your commands, that he doesn't even process what you said until he stopped his hips. He groans into the sheets, and feels his cock twitch within the pillows. It doesn't want to stop. “Noooo,” He complains once more, hating the way tears begin to build up, and threaten to spill over his closed eyes.

Your heart throbs at the small whimpers he lets out, and your strict tone seems to melt away. “You have to listen if you want to cum, baby. I know its embarrassing, but I want you to feel good. Dont be shy, I won't judge you.”

You hear a sniffle from the other end of the phone. “Okay. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. C-Can I move now? I'll tell you my…my fantasy.”

You hum encouragingly at him, and he takes it as a yes, slowly beginning to move his hips again. He sighs at the softness, nodding his head to himself. But, he doesn't get too lost in his pleasure, he has to hold up the end of the bargain. “I-Im pretended the pillow is you.”

You roll your eyes slightly, a grin on your face. He was obviously nervous if he was stating the obvious. “Yeah? Are you fucking me nice and hard?”

Your words are so lewd and he fumes red at them. “U-Um…Yeah. Y-You feel so good.” Referring to the makeshift hole as you, makes him feel slightly bad. He knows you are may more than that to him. But it was obvious that you were trying to initiate some sort of phone sex, and he didn't want to ruin the moment.

Your fingers travel down to your pants, and you finally get comfortable. You begin to touch yourself, trying to imagine yourself into his fantasy. “So deep Tamaki,” You purr, sighing into the mic.

His eyes widen for a split second, but he quickly shuts them again. At your words, he finds himself thrusting himself deeper into the hole, mewling out as pre covers the soft fabric. He finds himself imagining you beneath him, grinning up at him with a flushed out, but cocky grin.

“Fuck,” He whispers gently to the image of you. “I missed you so much. So so much.”

“Missed you too,” You murmur, throwing your head back slightly. “Doing so well for me.”

His hips stutters at the praise, and he gulps. Whenever you praise him, it sends his head spinning, and he loves it more than anything. “F-For you. Only for you!”

The position he was in was so lewd. His mouth slightly gnawing on his hand, his hips thrusting into two pillows, and his body a bright shade of pink. The bed was even creaking from his intense movements, but he didnt seem to care. “P-Praise me…More, please?”

“You're doing so good. Making me feel so good, Tamaki. Are you going to make me cum?”

He nods his head frantically, loving the idea more than anything. To make himself cum was one thing, but making you feel good enough to cum was a whole other thing. It made the service sub in him preen, and his thrusts are more desperate now. He imagines you shivering, and moaning into his neck, maybe even leaving scratch marks down his back. “Yes. Yes, I'll make you cum. I'll make you feel so good, please!”

You smile lazily at the wall. “Such a good boy. I'm so lucky to have such a pretty and obedient boyfriend.”

A wobbly smile is tugging at his face, and he feels like a schoolgirl. Giddy, and nervous around you and your voice. He swears the fantasy becomes more surreal. The pillow seems to be hugging him just how you would, and in the back of his mind he can hear the slapping of skin upon skin. “I love you. I love you so much, you feel so good. I can't hold it much longer!”

“Aw are you going to cum already?” You tease, feeling your own high approaching rapidly.

At the words he lets out a dramatic whine, feeling guilty. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Y-You just…oh god. Feel so good!” He warbles, shaking hands gripping onto the phone. He spreads his legs out wider, finding a new position to thrust his hips. His hair begins to stick to his head, and with every breath, a moan slips past his lips.

You are on the same page, hands moving quicker to hopefully match his high. “Its alright. Im going to cum to. Are you going to cum inside me? Wanna fill me up?”

He heaves at your words, hearts in his eyes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. He did desperately. It was way better than pulling out, or cumming into the condom. “Please! Please!”

His moans are high in pitch now, and his pace is sporatic. They are frantic though, and the entire bed shakes with his fierce movements.

“Good boy. Cum inside me then,” You purr directly into the mic, and his eyes fly open when he cums. He lets out a high pitched scream, and bites his hand to try and stay quite. The boys hips ram into the pillow, and his thoughts are cloudy, thinking about how deep he must be cumming in you. His whole body is shivering in pleasure, and he wears a small smile.

You cum a moment later, shaking and sighing, but not making as much noise as your beloved. You didnt mind, his high pitched moans and screams were cute, you just wished he got over that stupid need to bite his hand whenever he cums. It muffles them way too much for your liking.

Post nut clarity hits Tamaki like a truck and his face turns a bright shade of red. Asking you to praise him, and even begging to cum “inside” you? Humiliating.

“I know what you are thinking, love. Dont be embarrassed. It was fun. Good. What lovers do,” You reassure, knowing his anxiety gets the better of him.

He takes comfort in your words immediately, slightly nodding to himself and trying to think of something else to hopefully die down the embaressment. He feels exhausted, and instead focuses on that. He pulls out of the pillows with a sigh and brings the phone to his face to begin wishing you goodnight.

His eyes widen when he realizes something, and he lets out a dramatic gasp.

The sound makes you perk up, and you are on immediate alert. “Whats wrong?”

“Oh no. This is bad. What do I do now?” He begins to mumble, eyes scanning across the bed.

“What? What happened?” You question more frantically now, pulling the phone closer to your ear.

It goes silent on the other end for about thirty seconds. He pulls away the two pillows and gulps as his stares at his own product. This was bad. Truly a problem.

“What am I supposed to sleep on tonight?”

It takes everything in you to not hang up on him.

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lnfours · 7 months

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all mine | l.n

summary: friends with benefits situations are all fun and games until someone starts catching feelings.

warnings: language, sexual themes, fluff, kinda fwb!au, college student!reader, idk this kinda sucks

masterlist | listen

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

the two of you had been up for an hour or so, way before the sun had started to rise and shine in through the windows of his bedroom. the same sun that lit up the boy in front of you so perfectly that he almost looked angelic. the way his eyes shone in the lighting, the mix of blue and green suddenly entrancing you as he hovered over you.

your hands came up to run through his messy curls. you smiled softly at the fact that the soft tangles were your doing, beings your hands were just buried in his hair a few moments prior. then, your mind wandered and thought how you could live the rest of your life contently if it meant you would be waking up next to him every morning.

he moved his head to the crook of your neck, placing kisses along the skin as you tilted your head to give him more access to the area. yeah, you could get used to this every morning.

you knew he’d never think the same way, especially when you were the one who made it very clear that it was a no strings attached situation. he’d never feel the same way because even you weren’t supposed to feel this way.

however, as he moved to rest his chin on your chest so he could look up at you, it was all you could think about. and he could tell the gears in your head were turning when your smiled softly faded, eyes still locked on his.

he cocked his head to the side, an eyebrow slightly raised as he looked over your facial features, “you okay?”

you blinked, nodding and smiling softly, shaking your head in efforts to get the thoughts to dissipate, “hmm? yeah, sorry, just kind of zoned out for a second.”

he knew you better than that, shifting as he moved to lay next to you, head resting on his palm, “i know that look, you’ve got something on your mind. sure you don’t want to talk?”

it wasn’t fair. he was so kind, gentle, caring, all of it. and you couldn’t even call him yours.

you nodded, “yeah. thanks, though.”

he hummed, reaching over and grabbing his phone from the nightstand. you held a mental debate with yourself on if you should stay and bask in the warmth and comfort of not only the boy next to you, but the way too comfortable bed you were laying in.

“wanna make breakfast, or go get something or whatever?”

mind made up: go before you slowly start entering the hole you were slowly but surely digging for yourself.

you threw the comfort off your body, wincing slightly at the cold air around you. god, this is so hard. it shouldn’t be this hard.

“‘m gonna go, actually,” you said, grabbing your clothes from last night off the floor, shoving some things back in the overnight bag you happily packed after classes yesterday, “‘ve got some homework.”

he tried to mask his frown, knowing he shouldn’t be upset about the fact that you didn’t want to stay. you probably shouldn’t anyway, but he really wanted you to.

there was nothing lando loved more in the world than you and your company. was it worth breaking the agreement? worth losing a friend and someone he could talk to? maybe, maybe not. he knew what he wanted, and it was you. however, he couldn’t quite put a finger on what you wanted.

he had even wondered if he was the one you’d think about at night when you couldn’t sleep, staring up at the ceiling. because you were the one he’d always manage to think about. it was always you.

you were slipping on your shoes when he came back to reality, “i’ll drive you home.”

you nodded, watching as he got up from the bed and grabbed the hoodie that sat on the floor. the same one he wore last night, the one you were desperately pulling him closer by after a few episodes of the show the two of you had started last week.

he tugged on a pair of sneakers, grabbing his phone and wallet before leading you through his house. you trailed behind him, really not wanting to go back to the house you shared with your roommates, but you had to. if you stayed here any longer, every single line you both had made clear a few months prior would be crossed. a friendship would be jeopardized.

simply, the thought of ruining everything wasn’t worth it. was it?

he grabbed the keys to the mclaren sitting in his driveway, “do you have everything?”

you patted the pocket on your hoodie, feeling your phone and taking a glimpse inside your bag, “looks like it.”

he nodded as the two of you walked out of the house. he opened the door for you, just like always did, closing it behind you. he climbed in on the drivers side, starting the engine.

“you sure you’re not hungry or anything? don’t want a coffee or a tea?”

you looked over at the boy next to you, smiling softly and shaking your head, “‘m okay, thanks though.”

he nodded, pulling out of the driveway and handing you his phone to play music. you started playing the playlist you had made on his spotify account, a mixture of both of your favorite songs.

however, the music you were playing wasn’t even being paid attention to as you both were in deep thought the whole drive. both thinking about the other and how you both desperately wished things could be different. how you were both feeling the same way towards each other, just the other was too scared to admit it first.

he pulled up in front of the house, a soft sigh leaving your lips. partially out of relief because you were home and you could work on the work you’d been stressing about all week, but partially out of disappointment.

“want me to walk you up?”

you grabbed your bag, shaking your head, “no, ‘s okay,” you smiled softly, “thanks for, erm…”

you trailed off when your eyes met his. he laughed, noticing the slight blush rising to your cheeks, “don’t have to thank me.”

you nodded, “right, sorry.”

“don’t have to apologize either,” he smiled, “i’ll uhm… see you later?”

you nodded, desperately wanting to lean over and kiss his cheek, like you normally would’ve. but you knew if you did, you would eventually start kissing his lips and you’d never stop.

“yeah, i’ll see you later.”

you opened the door, climbing out and shutting the door before walking up to the house. he watched you make your way up to the door, fishing for your keys in the mess of the bag. you put the key in and turned around, sending him a small wave.

he waved back, pulling away once you walked inside the house and shut the door. you let out a breath, leaning against the wood for support and running a hand over your face. after giving yourself a second, you made your way into the living room.

“oh my god,“ the brunette, sarah, said with a teasing smile, “you’re able to walk after a night at lando’s? what a miracle.”

you flipped her off, causing the blonde, ashley, to snort from her place on the couch. you hung your bag on the barstool, sitting down and grabbing the bowl of cereal from sarah.

“oh, yeah, sure,” she mumbled, throwing her hands up in the air, “i wasn’t eating that.”

you gave her a look, shoving a spoonful of cereal in your mouth.

“you’re awfully quiet,” ashley said, entering the kitchen now as she stood at the coffee maker, “you alright?”

you were silent for a minute, both your roommates looking at you with concerned looks before you spoke up, “i don’t know.”

they both had the same expression, eyebrows raised, “what do you mean?”

you dropped your head onto your arm as you groaned. the two girls looked at each other confused before ashley questioned you, “y/n? what’s going on?”

“i like him.” you said sitting up.

sarah rolled her eyes, pulling the bowl of cereal back towards her, “well, yeah, tell us something we don’t know.”

“no, i mean,” you huffed, “i like like him.”

“okay,” ashley said into her coffee cup, “and what about that?”

“i can’t!”

“what do you mean you ‘can’t like him’?” sarah said, mouthful of cereal.

“i can’t like him because if i like him, it’ll be breaking the rules. and he’ll never like me back because of ‘em,” you said, “i wish i never came up with them in the first place.”

sarah snorted, “hold on,“ placing the spoon in the now empty bowl, “you think he doesn’t like you back?”

“i don’t just think, i know.”

ashley looked over at sarah and the two girls snickered. you gave them confusing looks.

“what? what’s so funny?”

“y/n, i love you,” ashley said, “but you’re an idiot.”

“it’s a good thing you’re really pretty because you’re completely oblivious.” sarah agreed. you sent them both confusing looks.

“what’re you talking about?”

“y/n, come on!” ashley laughed, “open your eyes! this man doesn’t like you, he’s in love with you.”

you gave them blank stares before you shook your head, “no, there’s absolutely no way-“

“think about it,” sarah said, “would he show up and bring you flowers every time you two go out? would he stop by and bring you a coffee, or a tea, or something to eat, which he’s literally memorized the orders for by the way, every time you’re studying? he knows you well enough to know that if you’re focused hard enough, you forget to eat and that you can’t study without some form of caffeine.”

“plus, the way he looks at you,” ashley added, “his face literally lights up every time you enter the room.“

you felt your heart go to your throat, but you somehow managed a croaked out response, “you think?”

“please,” ashley said, “we know. plus, ‘ve asked him.”

you and sarah looked at the blonde, a simultaneous, “you what?” slipping from your mouths.

ashley shrugged, raising her hands in mock defense, “i just wanted to know!”

“what did he say?”

“when did you ask?”

she put her coffee mug down, “it was the other night, he was watching you two laugh and dance at that stupid, lame ass party we went to. he was literally watching you the way they do in movies when they love someone,” she said, “so i asked him, ‘do you like her?’ and he nodded and kind of blushed a little bit before he was like, ‘maybe a bit more than that’.”

“oh my god,” sarah said, looking over at you. you sat there in shock for a minute before looking at your friends.

“what do i do? what do i say?” you asked the two girls looking at you.

“just talk to him, tell him how you feel,” ashley said, “it’s not like anything could go wrong, you already know how he feels.”

she had a point.

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

it was evening now, the sun setting through your curtains as you sat at your desk. you hummed along to the music playing through your headphones, scribbling down the rest of the notes you needed for this week.

you tilted your neck to the side, trying to fight through the aching pain in your muscles as you had sat at your desk all day. the music got quieter for a second before a soft ping rang through your headphones.

lando

how’s schoolwork going?

you smiled softly, clicking on the notification before typing back a response.

pretty good, actually. kind of wish i had taken a break to go out to get dinner with the girls.

you went back to your textbook before the woosh came through this time, another text popping up in the messages between the two of you.

have you not eaten today?

you looked at the clock, 8:30pm. well, shit…

guess i was too wrapped up to realize 😅

the bubble appeared on his side of the conversation, another sound playing through after he sent his message.

fancy some dinner company, then?

you smiled again, and if your feet weren’t tucked under your legs, you were sure you’d be probably be kicking them. god, he had you whipped.

as long as you bring something good.

he was quick to respond this time.

be there soon.

and he was a man to his word, showing up to your house almost forty minutes later. he had texted you that he was pulling up so you could open the door for him. once you opened the door, you smiled at the boy who stood with a bag of food in his hand.

“hey,” he smiled back at you. you stepped aside to let him in.

“hey,” you said, the two of you making your way to the kitchen as he set the bag down on the island, “whatcha get?”

you tried peeking in the bag but he pulled it away from you before you could look. you looked up at him as he sent you a teasing smile.

“close your eyes.”

“lando-“

“just close your eyes,” he chuckled back. you huffed, a soft smile on your face nonetheless as you closed your eyes. he pulled the takeout container, placing it in front of you before he fished out his.

“okay, open.”

you glanced down at the counter and your smile got wider. your favorite dish from your favorite restaurant sitting in front of you. your eyes met his as he smiled at you.

“you went all the way across town?”

“yeah,” he shrugged, popping open the lid to his dinner, “that’s what took me so long. sorry about that, by the way.”

you shook your head, “it’s okay,” you said, opening your own container, “i just… thank you.”

you smiled up at him and he swore he’d do the drive a hundred times if it meant you got to look at him like that.

“don’t have to thank me.” he said for the second time that day.

the two of you ate and made some comfortable conversation. most of them being jokes and the other giggling at them. he followed you up the stairs to your room after, the door closing behind him.

you sat down at your desk as he plopped onto your bed, “how much do you have left?”

you hummed, skimming through your notes and checking the check list on your computer, “another page or so,” you glanced over at him, softly wincing from the pain in your neck, which didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“your neck sore?”

you nodded, digging your fingers in the muscle to try to relieve the pain, “yeah, guess that means i’ve been sitting here too long.”

he got up from his spot before coming up behind you, his hands brushing yours to the side as he dug his finger tips into the aching muscles. you let out a soft sigh, letting him rub away the soreness, “god, that feels good.”

he smiled softly, “‘s it helping?”

you nodded, “yeah, actually.”

he continued for a couple seconds before you turned around to look at him in your chair. you searched his eyes as you tried to read them, but you got too distracted by the color of them to fully assess. he smiled softly down at you, raising an eyebrow slightly.

“what?” he asked, a chuckle following after.

“do you think about that night?” your mouth was moving before your brain could filter it, “the night we made that agreement?”

he shrugged, sitting back down on the bed now, “i mean, kind of, but not all the time.”

“do you regret it?”

he furrowed his eyebrows at you, “why would i regret it?”

you looked down at your hands, “because i do,” his heart dropped, but you immediately snapped your head up, “not like that! not like that at all. god, that’s not the way it was supposed to sound coming out of my mouth.”

you took a deep breath, his facial features becoming unreadable, “then how did you mean it?”

“i mean, i regret giving us these stupid rules,” you said, “like the one where it’s supposed to be ‘no feelings involved’, that sort of thing.”

he sent you a questioning look, his heart skipping a beat with hope, hope that you’d feel the same way, “why?”

“because i may have broken that rule.”

he searched your eyes, immediately his heart jumping up to his throat.

“so did i,” he said.

you smiled at each other from your seats before he was pulling you towards him, mumbling a soft, ‘c’mere,”

you straddled his thighs, wrapping your arms around his neck as one of his grabbed your waist while the other cupped your cheek. he leaned forward and kissed you softly, your hands finding the curls on the back of his neck.

he was the one to deepen the kiss, his tongue licking at your bottom lip before sucking and nibbling on it softly, knowing exactly how to make you weak. and it was working as you found yourself softly moaning into his mouth. he moved his hand from your hip to your ass, grabbing at it playfully causing you to giggle.

you broke the kiss, “i already knew how you felt, i just wanted to hear you say it.”

he sent you a look, silently asking how you would’ve known before his eyes widened. you laughed softly as he rolled his eyes.

“fucking ashley,” he mumbled against your lips.

no one could wipe the smile off his face even if they tried. you kissed him passionately, pushing back on his chest as he laid back onto the mattress and brought you with him. you hovered over him as you bent down, kissing him again. his hands found their place on your hips yet again, you absentmindedly moving against his hips gently.

he hummed contently against your lips, fingers moving under the hoodie you were wearing, a different one than the one you had on earlier, “is this mine?”

he brushed a piece of hair behind your ear as you bit back a smile, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip, “maybe..”

he laughed, shaking his head as he pulled at the bottom hem, helping you out of it, “you look better in it anyway.”

#lando norris #lando norris fluff #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris x reader fluff #lando norris x reader imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 imagine #mclaren formula 1 #mclaren #ln4 x reader #ln4 #ln4 imagine #ln4 fluff

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talesof-old · 1 month

Text

breaking | j.p.

pairing(s): james potter x gn!reader

warning(s): angst, breakups, leaving long term relationships, implied unfaithfulness (james doesn’t actually cheat), other woman lily evans, reader deserves better, idk this isn’t proofread or edited, they could never make me hate you lily

word count: 1.2k

a/n: sorry this took me so long, i’ve been teaching myself to crochet and i’m also trying to leave my current job

masterlist

james potter + relationship breakup + no happy ending

It used to be easy, saying James Potter was the best boyfriend you’d ever had.

He’d gone out of his way to shower you in affection and prove himself a capable partner. He’d remembered every important date, what your favorite things were, and why you hated the things you hated. James had been perfect.

You leaned back in your chair. Pieces of parchment littered the desktop, ink staining the expensive wood. You’d given up on caring. A glance at the clock on the wall gave you the time.

22:15.

You huffed. Date night, James had said, like that would fix whatever this was.

This, really, was a wedge driven in unknowingly by one Miss Lily Evans. You couldn’t blame her, really. If you’d asked, she would back away from her friendship with James and be perfectly content. That’s what made it so hard to hate her. She liked you, and would do anything to maintain your friendship.

Instead, like a fool, you’d believed James when he said he’d be home early to have dinner with you. After an hour had passed you’d changed out of your nice clothes and into a pair of pajamas, choosing to work to pass the time. About twenty minutes later, you heard the front door open.

In shuffled a weary James, glasses askew and hair messy. Your heart clenched. Here stood the boy (now man) you’d given your heart to years ago. Here he was, breaking it.

“Hey.” Your voice filled the dimly light room, echoing in the bare corners like some evil spirit.

He looked up at you, eyes blinking owlishly as he tugged off his shoes. It took just a second for the image of you to register. His lips twisted into a guilty grimace, though you weren’t sure he was genuinely regretful.

As he approached, you were hit with a wave of floral and ink perfume. You sighed. Lily’s perfume, which she’d found sometime during your time at Hogwarts and stuck to, was far from unfamiliar. It suited her beautifully, though currently it clung to your skin like aa unwanted disease.

“I’m sorry, we got caught up at the pub.” You nodded. The boys night Sirius had proposed. To forget everything going on for one night. Perhaps you should’ve told James just to stay at your friends’ flat tonight instead.

“We had plans.” Your voice wavered, the telltale sign of tears burning your throat. James nodded solemnly. He made to reach for you, but seemed to second guess himself as you shied away.

“I’m sorry, honey, but Pads wanted to stay-“

“Okay.” The finality in your tone had him pausing, brow furrowed. You moved then, gathering up your papers as tears pricked at your eyes. The rational part of you knew that you needed to speak up about your feelings in order to make a change, but you also didn’t feel like you should have to. James made plans with you, his partner; surely that was just as important?

“I’m going to bed.”

Defeat swirled in your gut. Tomorrow, you’d call Mary. If she couldn’t give you advice, she’d at least help you pack up your things.

“Honey, please.” Something desperate filled his tone. You clicked your tongue to distract yourself from the heaviness in your chest. James stepped forward.

“I just lost track of time, promise. I’ll make it up to you.” You shook your head. This was the make up. This was the second chance. Not a single bone in your body wanted to give him a third. It wasn’t fair to expect you to continue to shatter your heart just for him. You cared more about yourself than that to let it continue.

“You already made a promise like that James, don’t lie to me.” Irritation flashed across his face.

“I’m not lying.” You huffed, clutching your papers in your hands. You’d leave the ink. He’d probably need it more than you.

“Merlin, You told me that the last time, James. What else am I supposed to believe?” He ran a hand through his messy curls. “I don’t understand.”

An incredulous expression took up residence on your face. You blinked furiously as you looked at him.

“What don’t you understand? You come home to me after missing an apology dinner, smelling like another woman. Lily Evans no less.” Venom laced itself through the words as you spoke them. His jaw clenched and he crossed his arms. Muscles tensed as he took in the anger in your eyes. You didn’t often get angry, not like this.

“Lily is my friend, I won’t let you make me feel like shit for spending time with her.” You threw your hands up in the air. The clock down the hallway ticked away, eating at you as you turned away from him.

“I never asked that of you, don’t you dare put words in my mouth.” Tears finally spilled over your cheeks. He scoffed.

“At least look at me.”

You whirled around, eyes glassy and lip trembling. Frustration rose. Here you were, crying over the loss of a relationship that hadn’t even ended yet. You swiped at the tear tracks.

“Why? I can’t do this anymore James. I love you, really, but it isn’t fair for me to have to keep asking you to occasionally put me first.” James wore an expressionless look as you spoke. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears, an unsteadying drum to your own heartache.

“I do. I don’t understand where this is coming from.” A forlorn feeling took root in your stomach. He didn’t understand. Maybe you were fooling yourself, thinking you could work through this one. After everything, it was too much to bear.

“Alright.” He furrowed his dark brows.

“I’ll ask Mary if she can swing by tomorrow and help me pack up my things.” He startled, reaching for you once more. A sob caught in your throat as he gripped your shoulders. The soft florals of Lily’s perfume engulfed you.

“What? No, what are you talking about?”

Something undecipherable had leaked into James’ words, panicked and shaky as he searched your face. All he found was resignation. You were giving up. James shook his head, licking his lips and leaning down to stare directly into your teary eyes.

“You’re leaving me?”

You let out a breathy laugh, humorless and cold as it curled around your ears.

“You spend more time with Lily than me these days. I won’t fight for someone who isn’t doing the same.” You watched as his face fell. His lips parted as though to speak, but no words fell from his lips. You knew he couldn’t defend himself from the truth; at the very least, he couldn’t defend himself from this truth.

You spoke again. “I love you.”

You pried yourself from his tense grasp and made your way back to the bedroom, locking yourself in the bathroom for privacy. After tomorrow, you’d no longer be in a relationship. James would no longer be your boyfriend, and peace would have to be made. You shared too many friends for the opposite to be an option. You sighed, pressing the palms of your hands into your eyes to keep the tears at bay.

When did it all go wrong?

#james potter x you #james fleamont potter #james potter drabble #james potter oneshot #james potter #james potter x reader #james potter angst #the marauders #marauders x reader #marauders era #marauders #harry potter x reader #harry potter

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prdx-invdr · 2 months

Text

୨୧⸝⸝﹕it’s salty in the middle of those sweet moments.

SUMMARY! for reasons unknown to him, you seem to absolutely hate lee anton. on several occasions, he’s tried to hate you right back, but found that it can be difficult to dislike someone when you’re completely infatuated with them.

PAIRING! lee anton x fem!reader

GENRE! college!au, slice of life, swim team!au idk what to call it actually but anton and reader are both captains, fluff, angst (kinda), (one-sided) enemies to lovers WC 6.6k

WARNING! swearing, reader is mean to anton for a while, miscommunication, i have no knowledge of swimming as a sport and had to do a lot of research for this one so sorry if this contains some inaccuracies, not proofread

NOTE! when anon requested this i jumped out of my seat bc rivals to lovers with anton was my very first wip on this acc but i scrapped it and this gave me an excuse to write abt it again

anton thinks the world of you while you think nothing of him. he’s unsure of how someone he thinks of so highly could hate him so much, and he’s even more unsure of how he could still be so enamored by you despite knowing that you feel the exact opposite way about him.

he gave up on trying to understand the root of your hatred towards him long ago.

at first, he assumed that you were just jealous of the fact that the boy’s swim team had a bigger budget than the girl’s. this wasn’t anton’s fault by any means, but he thought that you might’ve been taking your anger out on him due to his position as team captain. the school administration seemed to simply favor the boy’s swim team over yours, and even anton knew that it wasn’t fair. the favoritism meant that anton’s team received better funding, which inevitably meant better… everything.

anton vividly remembers the glare that you’re always giving him only growing in intensity the day he and his team stepped into the pool area wearing their brand new goggles and swim trunks. he recalls the way the other girls on your team looked down at their own worn out swimsuits upon seeing anton’s team’s new attire, and he felt terrible. if it were up to him, he would’ve entered the room wearing the same faded blue swim jammers he and his teammates were forced to wear at the start of the semester if it meant you’d stop looking at him with such disdain in your eyes.

if this had been the reason behind your distaste for the boy, he would’ve understood. but the hatred you held for him extended beyond swimming, too.

“your hair looks stupid like that,” he hears you mutter from behind him. he turns around, an indifferent expression adorning his features to mask his nervousness.

the fact that you still manage to get the boy’s heart racing and his palms sweating despite your cruel words is baffling to him.

anton’s teeth sink into his bottom lip, wanting to retaliate but not having the slightest idea what to say. “my hair looks like this everyday,” is all he can pathetically exhale.

you’re still staring at him with a furrowed brow and he stares back at you, perplexed. he wonders if you have anything else to say to him or if you were insulting his hair for the pure fun of it. he thinks he’d be fine with either, because at least you’re talking to him.

he feels like slapping himself in the forehead at his own lovesickness.

after a few moments of silence, you scoff, signaling with your hand that you want him to move out of your way.

wordlessly, anton obliges, stepping aside and watching as you continue on your way to whatever class you have next. he notices merely seconds afterwards that the hallway he’s currently standing in isn’t narrow in the slightest, meaning you could’ve easily gone around him and still insisted on making him move. he wishes he could dislike you— he really does.

anton turns around to find sohee and seunghan now leaning against the wall, having observed the entire interaction between you and their love-struck friend. sohee looks at him pitifully while seunghan claps, slowly and sarcastically.

“don’t,” is all anton says to them, hanging his head. he knows that they’d like to drill another lesson into his mind about how he needs to stop letting you push him around like that, and he’s not in the mood for it.

“anton, my man,” seunghan sighs, putting an arm around his shoulders. “i get that you like her, i really do, and that she’s pretty and all,” he feels anton’s shoulders momentarily tense at his words, “but i don’t think she’s into you. like, at all.”

anton shrugs the older boy’s arm off, shaking his head. “i don’t like her,” he lies through gritted teeth. sohee and seunghan share an unamused look.

in actuality, the two of them were there to witness anton fall for you firsthand. when their younger friend first saw you and two of your friends walking through the quad area of campus, they watched the way his eyes widened and the way the oxygen left his lungs. they recall thinking that anton’s heart would burst out of his chest and fall right onto the grass below the three of them. his friends were in disbelief that anton was currently standing in front of them and denying his feelings for you when they quite literally saw him develop said feelings in real time.

when anton found out that you were captain of the girl’s swim team, it only solidified the way he felt about you. being captain of the boy’s swim team himself, he thought it was the perfect setup. he was too shy to nonchalantly walk up to you and initiate conversation, but he had the notion that swimming would make good enough of an excuse.

his hopes of becoming acquainted with you through your shared interest in the sport were crushed almost immediately. when he first tried to strike up a conversation with you, you sent him a scowl that intimidated him into walking the other way. on a separate occasion, he attempted to talk to you again, only for you to turn your head and pretend that you hadn’t heard him. he hasn’t tried to initiate anything ever since, the only time the two of you ever interact being whenever you glare at him or make a remark about him in passing.

he never found out what your problem was when it came to him, and he doesn’t think he ever will.

anton sees sohee and seunghan’s solemn faces and scoffs. “i’m serious, guys!” he complains, “you’ve seen the way she acts towards me. why would i like somebody like that? that’s like setting myself up for failure.” his chest tightens as the words leave his mouth. he only said that so his friends would drop the subject, but he knows that there’s truth behind his statement. the two boys only exhale disappointedly.

sohee purses his lips. “if she didn’t absolutely hate you for no reason, you guys would probably look good together,” he comments. seunghan nods, “too bad she’s got a stick up her ass.”

for whatever reason, anton wants to defend you and tell his friend that there is no stick up your ass— you’re only hostile when it comes to him. he realizes how pitiful that sentence would sound to sohee and seunghan and decides against saying it out loud.

“stop being hung up on that girl, anton,” sohee chimes, putting a hand on his friend’s arm, “there’s plenty of fish in the sea. you would know all about that, right? since you’re a swimmer and all.”

seunghan hits sohee in the arm jokingly. “he’s on the swim team, not a fucking merman.”

“he’s so cute, are you kidding me?” you hear rei practically squeal as you step into the locker room. she and jiwon are both already wearing their swimsuits, and the latter looks up upon hearing you enter the room.

“who are we talking about?” you smile, setting down your backpack. it’s late in the afternoon and you’re relieved to be done with your classes for the day, finally able to do what you love most.

“um,” jiwon begins, “no one in particular. right, rei?” your friend sounds a bit on edge as she turns to the girl sitting on the bench beside her, who shrugs. “we’re talking about anton,” she replies, earning a slap on the arm from jiwon. “ow! what the hell?”

jiwon watches as you halt your process of taking off your shirt, about to change into your swimsuit. she knew that your mood would turn sour at the mention of the boy; it’s a known fact amongst the members of your team that you hate lee anton.

“you think anton is cute?” you turn to rei, frowning. the girl lets out a huff of air, her bangs moving in the process. “i don’t see how you don’t,” she mutters, “and i don’t get why you hate his guts either. he’s super nice.”

you continue changing, the two girls looking away from you as you do so out of respect. “you wouldn’t understand,” is all you say in response. jiwon bites her lip, feeling bad for the boy. she’s seen it all— the fleeting, longing glances anton sends your way, and the scornful looks you send him in return. she doesn’t comment on it, not wanting to upset you, but a minuscule, intrusive part of her desperately wants to know what’s going on between you and the captain of the boy’s team.

rei, however, seems to know no boundaries. “would you be mad if i dated him, then?” she chortles, giddily kicking her legs. not facing you, she doesn’t see the way you grow tense at her question. you open your mouth to respond when a knock at the locker room door startles the three of you.

the door opens a fraction and you turn to see yujin pop her head inside. “are you guys almost ready?” she asks, scanning the room before her eyes land on you. “oh, hey, captain,” she smiles, eyes forming crescents. you wave, and the older girl continues. “coach wanted me to remind you guys that we have a joint training session today,” she clenches her teeth for a second, eyes moving to jiwon and rei who are wearing matching nervous expressions at the reminder. “you know, with the boys team,” yujin finishes, not daring to look you in the eye in fear of how you might react.

as captain of the team, you were curious as to why your coach would want to remind you of that, seeing as you were often the first person to obtain this information. upon deeper thought, you realize it was probably because even your coach knew about your hatred towards anton and wanted you to stay focused this time around rather than glaring at him every few minutes. you almost let out a laugh at the thought.

“you hear that, captain?” rei teases, “prepare yourself! don’t let anton distract you this time.”

you throw a towel in her direction, earning a grunt from her. “i should be telling you that,” you scold, “seeing as you’re obsessed with him all of a sudden.”

rei laughs, and you’re unsure of how to feel when you come to the realization that she didn’t disagree with your statement.

once you finally leave the locker room, you come face to face with your sworn enemy himself.

anton doesn’t look in your direction for as long as he normally does, memories of your interaction from earlier in the day flooding his mind. no matter how small of a gesture it is, your teammates take notice of it. “he’s not staring at you today,” gaeul whispers, shocked.

you only shake your head. “like i care,” you spit, crossing your arms, “i prefer it that way, actually. he should focus on his own team.”

wonyoung puts her hands on your shoulders from behind, lightly shaking you. “loosen up, okay?” she advises, her own eyes drifting over to anton’s team. as if on cue, anton looks over at you for a moment, watching as you joke around with your teammate. he wishes that you were even half as nice to him as you are to your team, wondering what it would be like to laugh with you the same way wonyoung is right now.

noticing anton’s preoccupied state, one of his teammates calls out to him. “captain!” anton turns his head away from you, looking his teammate in the eye. “yeah, taesan? you need something?” he inquires, getting back into his leader headspace. taesan looks over anton’s shoulder at your team, making the inference that he had been distracted by you. like always, taesan thinks to himself.

“do some stretches with me, yeah?” he says, wanting anton to fully dedicate himself to practicing instead of letting you pose as an obstacle.

anton is a good team captain— any of his teammates can attest. but it feels like anytime you’re in his presence, he’s only able to give 80% as opposed to his usual hundred, the other 20% being spent completely fixated on you.

he walks over to his dark haired teammate with a nod, agreeing to help him warm up. he thinks it serves as a more productive way to pass time than staring at you like a lovesick idiot.

“i was thinking,” taesan starts, copying the way anton does shoulder stretches to loosen his joints, “well, me and leehan were talking about it, actually. we should do a bonfire later, at the beach,” he tells the older boy.

anton licks his lips, nodding absentmindedly. “just you and leehan?” he asks, looking around the room for the boy in question. he sees leehan standing in the corner looking disinterested and waves him over. with an inaudible sigh, leehan reluctantly joins the two boys who are now doing tricep stretches. taesan shakes his head in response to the question anton had posed, “no, i meant, like, the whole team,” he corrects. “tell him, leehan,” taesan nudges his teammate.

“i hate stretching,” leehan murmurs, gaze aimed towards the white tiles beneath him. “about the bonfire, dumbass,” taesan deadpans. leehan perks up at the mention of something that he actually cares about. “oh, yeah! we’re gonna invite the whole team,” he grins, “it’ll be a blast, anton. you’ve gotta go.”

anton thinks it over, biting the inside of his cheek. “it’s already kind of late though, no?” he points out, causing the two boys on either side of him to groan. “bonfires are literally supposed to happen at night,” taesan comments at the same time leehan says, “don’t be such a buzzkill.”

“is the girls team invited?” anton can’t stop himself from asking, earning more groans from the two boys. “i don’t want to go through the trouble of inviting them,” leehan complains. “yeah,” his friend nods, “plus, he’s only asking because he wants their captain to be there.”

taesan’s comment makes anton come to a halt, and he’s now the only one out of the three of them no longer stretching. “that’s not true,” he defends himself, “i just feel kind of bad. i mean, we already have a bigger budget than them, and stuff.”

“keep telling yourself that, champ,” leehan grumbles. “we see right through you.” anton steps forward, looking at both of them simultaneously. “guys, seriously,” he says lowly, “i feel bad.”

taesan lets out a laugh, “right, you feel bad that you won’t be able to make heart eyes at y/n tonight.”

anton rubs his palm across his face, frustrated. “here’s an offer for you. you either invite the girls team, or…” he pauses, attempting to appear intimidating, “you’re not allowed to have the bonfire at all.”

the two boys scoff in unison. “you can’t just do that,” taesan snorts, “you’re our captain, not our mom.” anton scratches his head at that, disorientated. “look, i— okay,” he tries again, “i don’t know. i’ll buy you guys food, or something.”

it’s now taesan and leehan’s turn freeze in their places. “why didn’t you start with that?”

practice ends faster than you wish it had and you hoist your bag over your shoulder. you turn to jiwon and rei, about to ask if they’re ready to leave when you’re interrupted by two loud voices. “girls! hey!” you turn your head to see two members of the boys swim team— who’s names you never bothered to learn— running up to you and your friends.

“hey,” one of them pants, “don’t leave yet.” you look at your friends once more, studying their expressions that look just as confused as yours. “anton wanted— ouch!” the boy is interrupted by his friend slapping him on the arm harshly, as if he had said something wrong. “all of us, i mean, wanted to know if you girls would like to join us tonight,” the boy finishes, rubbing his arm while sending a subtle glare in his friend’s direction.

“join you.. in doing what, exactly?” you inquire, serious as ever. the two boys seemingly grow smaller under your intimidating gaze as if they hadn’t anticipated your somber attitude. “we’re doing a bonfire,” the other boy replies, pointing his thumb in the direction of the rest of his team. you look over the boy’s shoulder, your eyes landing upon anton, who is already looking at you. upon seeing your eyes scan over him, he looks away.

rei claps her hands together a few times, “we’ll be there! thank you for inviting us.” her words startle you and you open your mouth to protest. you had just been seconds away from telling the boys in front of you that you weren’t interested.

“yeah, count us in!” jiwon chimes, and you want the tiled floor below to swallow you whole. “you guys have fun, then,” you tell them, eyes swimming with boredom, “i’m going home.”

“no!” the boys in front of you shout in unison, startling you and your team. “you have to come. especially,” one of them pleads. “and why is that?” you put one hand on your hip, intimidating them further.

everyone already seems to know the answer to your question before the boys can even formulate the words to say it. “our captain wants you to.”

your teammates all but drag you to the beach against your will, uttering complaints about how you “need to learn how to have fun” and how they’ve “been waiting for something exciting like this to happen”.

within the first 5 minutes of your arrival, you’ve already tried to escape more times than your friends are able to count. wonyoung had to keep a tight grip on your wrist to ensure that you wouldn’t go anywhere, and you swear at the girl in your head for being stronger than she appears.

“i can’t believe anton himself told his friends to invite us just so he could see y/n,” rei mutters, astonished, “do you have any idea how lucky you are?”

“that’s definitely not the reason,” you deny, already wanting to drop the topic, “they probably just thought it would be funny because everybody on the planet knows that i hate him.”

and while taesan and leehan are most definitely aware of your hatred towards their captain, their reasoning for inviting you and your team really was because anton wanted to see you.

“invite the girls team!” leehan mocks, intentionally making his voice sound higher, “i feel sooo bad for them!” anton pays no mind to the way he’s being blatantly teased, his eyes trained on you. “feel bad for them my ass,” taesan comments under his breath, “he’s already making heart eyes at her, just like i said.”

“you’re a real masochist, you know that?” leehan adds, waving a hand in front of anton’s line of sight. the taller boy blinks in response as if he had broken out of whatever trance you had him under. “that girl doesn’t even try to hide the fact that she hates you, and you’re still, like, obsessed with her.”

anton sharply exhales through his nose, not needing another reminder of the fact that you dislike him and that he’s stupid for helplessly pining after you.

“i’ve heard that a million times,” he retorts, “and i’m not obsessed with her. in fact, i’m starting to hate her, too.”

he thinks that lying to his teammates is just as difficult as lying to sohee and seunghan, only receiving humorless looks in response to his statement. “right,” taesan scoffs, “you hate her so much that you forced me and leehan to invite the entire girls swim team just so you could see her.” anton lightly hits him with the back of his hand, muttering, “i told you that’s not the reason.”

all three boys turn to look at you, arms crossed and unamused. “oh, man,” leehan laughs, “she’s bored out of her fucking mind.” anton watches you carefully, your eyes burning a hole in the sand beneath your shoes. “why don’t you go talk to her, captain?” taesan teases, slapping his friend on the back boyishly. anton staggers forward about a centimeter due to the impact, looking back at the boy. “or anyone on the girls team, for that matter. since you made us invite every single one of them,” leehan quips.

but anton thinks that talking to you would only dampen your mood even further, and he doesn’t want the glare that you’re currently directing towards the sand to be aimed at him. “try talking to her, right there,” leehan points to someone in your general direction and anton follows his finger with his gaze, “naoi rei. she’s one of y/n’s closest friends, i think.”

taesan lets out another scoff, “yeah, but she’s not y/n. anton wants y/n, not the next best thing.”

jiwon and rei stand next to the bonfire, and you overhear one of them comment on how it isn’t as big as they were expecting it to be. you see wonyoung and yujin sitting on some large rocks a short distance away from the shore. you quickly scan the perimeter looking for gaeul, who you find sitting on the sand and looking up at the stars. your friends are all enjoying themselves— why aren’t you?

as per usual, you want to blame your discomfort on the fact that anton is in your vicinity. but how exactly could you do that when he hasn’t interacted with you all night?

come to think of it, your last interaction with the boy in question was earlier today when you told him that his hair looked stupid. you shake your head at the memory— you hadn’t even meant it. you actually liked his hair, but you’d rather drop dead than admit that to him. you hate lee anton with a burning passion, and you hate that you like his hair.

you hate that you’re currently sitting here wishing that he would come up to you and say something. after all, your friends dragged you here and his teammates made it seem as though your attendance was obligatory. the way you see it, the least anton could do after subjecting you to all of that is talk to you. you suppose that you can’t really blame him for not wanting to, though. you kick the sand beneath you at the realization.

you’re not sure how much time you spend thinking about the boy you swear to hate with every fiber of your being, but you conclude that a few long minutes must’ve gone by, because suddenly you look up and find that both your team and anton’s team are gathered around the fire. you watch them carefully, eyes wandering from individual to individual.

you see yujin laughing with some guy from the other team. you see the two boys that invited you and your friends to this very event. finally, your eyes land on anton, and you regret it almost immediately.

he’s nervously scratching the back of his neck the way you often catch him doing. he’s got a bashful smile on his lips as he looks down at whoever he’s currently talking to. you crane your neck to see who that may be, and find that it’s none other than your own teammate and friend— naoi rei.

you make a face of disgust that no one sees, and only then do you realize that you’re still standing a good distance away from the large group. “oh my god,” you scowl. you run a hand over your face, conflicted. you already hated being here, and seeing anton converse with one of your closest friends might’ve just made your attitude towards this whole situation a million times worse. you know that rei is probably over the moon right now, looking up at him with a twinkle in her eye and a girlish smile.

you want to be happy for her— you think that any good friend would jump at the sight of their teammate getting along with the person they find attractive— and you swear that you would be if the person she was talking to was anyone but him. you tell yourself that it’s because rei deserves better than him, ignoring the way your heart plummets. he was only going to chase after you for so long.

you shake your head rapidly as if it would rid your mind of the thought, not knowing where it came from in the first place.

you need to get out of here— asap.

you hate lee anton and you hate that you like his hair and you hate that you spent a decent amount of time tonight wishing that he’d speak to you.

you hate that you even care in the slightest that he’s currently flirting with your best friend and you hate that almost everyone here managed to convince you that he and his teammates invited you simply because he wanted you here.

you discreetly make your way around the group, advancing towards the shore. you don’t think anyone sees you as you do so, hearing the sound of their laughter grow more distant with each step you take towards the sea. as you continue moving forward absentmindedly, you don’t realize that you’re already knees deep in the water until a salty wave crashes into you, reaching the area below your thigh.

“what are you doing?” your head quickly turns to find the source of the voice and you scowl once you realize who it is.

of course, anton chooses now to finally talk to you.

you turn back around, ignoring him, because that’s how you are— you think about him more than you’d ever like to admit and act indifferent towards him once he’s in your presence. anton watches as you turn your back to him, unsure of why he assumed that this interaction with you would be any different from your interactions in the past.

nonetheless, with bravery that he didn’t even know he had, anton continues talking. “you could get sick if you go any further,” he blurts out.

in truth, anton had been watching you through his peripheral vision as he was conversing with rei, and saw as you treaded through the sand and into the water. he excused himself— he had been looking for a way to escape the conversation anyway— and followed your silhouette that was now standing in the ocean, letting waves collide with your legs.

in retrospect, he should’ve thought of something to say to you beforehand, because if the mere act of him talking to you wasn’t enough to piss you off, anton was sure that lecturing you about how you could get sick from swimming at night would definitely cause you to flip your lid.

his suspicions appear to have been correct, because you whip your head back around and give him an angry look. “what are you doing here?” you spit, expecting him to flinch and avoid your gaze the same way that he always does.

“why can’t i be here?” he presses, furrowing his brow, and you’re the one that flinches. “do you own the ocean?”

you’re sure that steam would be coming out of your ears right now if you were living in an old cartoon. you clench your fist, taken aback.

“why do you hate me so much, y/n?” anton pleads, unable to prevent the million dollar question from leaving his lips. this is a position he never thought he’d find himself in; confronting you about your unadulterated hatred towards him while your entire bottom half is almost completely submerged in the ocean.

your lip quivers and you clench your teeth as you feel your resilient facade start to crack. neither you nor anton are sure where his daring attitude came from, but it seems to be catching both of you by surprise, because even the boy in question moves to wipe his palms against his jeans to rid them of their clamminess. “answer me,” he demands, his voice as soft as it normally is and yet it still intimidates you.

you turn around for the forth and final time, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of discovering the root of your distaste towards him. anton shakes his head, although you’re unable to see it, and sharply inhales in preparation for what he’s about to do.

he cautiously takes a step forward, letting the water dampen the cuffs of his jeans. he cringes, but proceeds nevertheless, mimicking the strides that you had taken minutes prior.

before you’re able to prevent it from happening, anton is standing directly beside you, jeans darkening as the water seeps into them, and you nearly jump out of your skin.

the tall boy leans forward, and you lean back. “answer me,” he repeats his previous words in a hushed voice.

you’re looking down at the water that the two of you are standing in and anton thinks it’s funny, for a moment, how the roles seem to be reversed— you’re tense and apprehensive while he’s bold and collected, trying to crane his neck to meet your downward pointed gaze.

“you should know the reason why,” he hears you speak under your breath. you finally look at him, eyes narrowed. “you’re making fun of me, aren’t you?” you question, and he recoils.

“i’m not— what? why would— why do you think i’m making fun of you?” anton sputters, genuinely appalled at the accusation. he’s unable to wrap his head around what kind of thoughts might be running through your mind right now.

“because there’s no way in hell that you don’t know why i hate you, lee anton,” you say, words flying from your mouth hurriedly. “there’s no way you just let me push you around and stare at you like you’re the scum of the earth if you don’t know the reason why. you have to know,” you look into his eyes in search of an answer but you’re only met with confusion.

anton shakes his head. “i don’t know, y/n,” he begins, “i really don’t know, and i’m sorry if you think i’m playing a prank on you right now, but i’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.”

he looks down momentarily, his eyes landing on his wet jeans. when he looks back up, he’s zoned in on the way the moon makes your eyes look as though they’re sparkling, and he thinks it’s beautiful. “you may know this already,” he starts speaking again, “but i’m in love with you.”

he makes sure not to stutter or appear anxious in the slightest, afraid that if he made the slightest mistake, he’d try to prevent the words from leaving his mouth. and he needs you to know.

your lips part, his words shocking you more than anything else that has taken place tonight. “i’m always lying to my teammates and my friends, saying that i don’t like you because they think i’m insane for chasing after someone who wishes i didn’t even exist,” anton continues, his tone becoming sorrowful, “but i can’t lie anymore. especially not to you.”

by now, both of your hearts are pounding, and you’re sure that they would be audible if it weren’t for the sounds of the waves crashing. “so, no,” he says, “the reason i let you push me around isn’t because i know why you hate me. it’s because i’m in love with you, and no matter how hard i try, i can’t stop.”

he waits for you to respond, eyes trained on yours. you finally start speaking, lowly and carefully. “there was this guy,” you tell him, “you used to hang out with him last year. i would see you and him laughing together all the time, with two other friends of yours.”

taking in your words, anton ponders who you could be referring to before his eyes widen slightly. “wonbin?” he asks, although he has no doubt in his mind that you’re talking about his older friend. wonbin, seunghan, sohee and anton were practically attached at the hip during the latter’s freshman year of college, and when wonbin made the decision to drop out in order to pursue a career in music, the other three were left to fend for themselves.

you scoff, despite wanting to contain your hostility towards the boy after his confession. “i don’t know his name,” you mumble, “but yeah, that’s probably him.”

anton nods, urging you to continue. he’s finally going to find out why you’ve disliked him for as long as he can remember and he doesn’t want to waste a second. “he told me that you liked me,” you say, watching as the boy flinches in your peripheral at your words. “and i was so happy at the time because i liked you, too.”

it’s anton’s turn to be stunned by your confession, not believing the words that are coming out of your mouth. “i would always look at you, but you’d never look at me back. when your friend— wonbin, i guess— told me that you liked me, i thought that meant you would talk to me,” you shake your head at the memory, “but you never did. it was like i didn’t even exist to you.”

you keep talking, quietly, “every single person who knew me knew that i liked you. one day, i saw you guys laughing together like you always did, and then it clicked in my brain.” you’re silent for a moment before you continue. “i figured that you must’ve known that i liked you, too, and told your friend to say that to me as some sort of cruel joke.”

anton is yet again appalled at your words. “you only seemed to start caring about my existence at the beginning of last semester. you tried to come up to me a few times, and i always assumed it was because you were finally feeling bad about the whole wonbin thing and wanted to apologize, and i didn’t want to hear it. it was around that time that i started hating you.”

you scratch the back of your neck, not having thought that you’d ever admit any of this to the boy standing beside you. anton swallows before he thinks over his next words. “i didn’t know about any of that,” he assures you, and he can sense that you doubt his words momentarily because he starts talking faster. “i’m not sure what prompted wonbin to say that to you, but i can tell you this,” he whispers, “i’ve been in love with you from the very first time i saw you, and no amount of insults or glares from you is ever going to change that.” for a moment, even the waves of the ocean seem to still, leaving only the sound of anton’s voice ringing in your ears.

you’re not used to feeling this vulnerable, and the fact that you’re sharing a moment like this with lee anton— the man you (no longer) hate— sends a shiver down your spine. you find yourself searching for a sense of familiarity, even if it comes in the form of playful banter rather than the usual insult.

“say that again,” you tell him, and he’s unsure if you’re being serious at first. when silence lingers in the air, he finally begins speaking. “i’ve… been in love with you since the first time i saw you,” anton says, unsure. you shake your head, displeased.

“put it in the present tense,” you purse your lips, crossing your arms. anton lets out a curt laugh, now realizing that you’re actually joking with him. so this, he thinks, is what it feels like to laugh with you. “i’m in love with you, y/n,” by now, he’s adorning a smile that reaches his eyes, head slightly tilted towards the ground bashfully.

“wanna know something, lee anton? i think i might be, too.”

weeks later, you’re swinging open the doors to the pool area, the smell of chlorine crashing into you as you step inside.

the boys team is in the middle of practicing, leehan and taesan— who’s names you finally learned after enduring weeks of their relentless teasing, always having to hear a complaint from them about how their team captain is even less focused than before since the two of you started dating— spotting you almost immediately. they let out exaggerated groans, knowing they now have to witness you and anton grossly interact.

“captain!” taesan calls out with dread lacing his tone, “your girlfriend is here.” upon hearing that, anton, who is currently in the pool, whips his head around so quickly that you’re almost positive he could’ve gotten whiplash. you wave, and rather than exiting the water, he swims over to where you stand on the poolside. looking up at you, he smiles, slightly out of breath. “hey, lovely,” he says, removing the goggles from around his head so he can study you better.

he pays no mind to the sounds of his teammates gagging in the background, not looking anywhere but at you.

to say that both your team and anton’s team were surprised upon hearing about your blossoming relationship with the boy would be an understatement. not only did both teams have to grow accustomed to the fact that you no longer hated anton, but they also needed to get used to the mere concept of you two dating each other. it wasn’t as though you two no longer served as distractions to the other, however— if anything, you both stared at each other even more than you had previously, the difference being that now you looked at anton with adoration in your eyes rather than resentment.

“i don’t know if seeing you two together makes my heart want to explode with joy, or if it makes me wanna throw up,” you recall rei telling you during practice one day. anton has shared similar stories, stating that although both taesan and leehan are happy to see their captain in a relationship with the girl he’s been pining after, they hate the way anton apparently never shuts up about you during training.

you look down at the boy, flashing him a smile of your own. droplets of water threaten to fall into his eyes, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “hey,” you hum, “i won’t bother you long. just checking in.” anton shakes his head, water spraying the floor beneath you in the process. “you never bother me,” he says.

“oh, hush,” you wave your hand dismissively. “i’m serious. hey, can you come down here for a sec?” anton asks, gesturing for you to crouch next to the pool. you give him a suspicious look, morphing your lips into a tight line. “anton, i’m not letting you pull me in there.”

he shakes his head again, letting out a laugh. “i’m not gonna pull you in,” he tells you, and you still aren’t convinced. “y/n!” he whines, stretching the final syllable. you look to the ceiling for a moment, letting out a scoff before kneeling down next to the pool.

in a swift motion, anton grabs your shoulders and lands a kiss on your lips. it’s wet from the water of the pool and you pull away, wiping your mouth with your sleeve. anton is laughing as you swat at his arm, muttering something about how he got your shirt wet.

anton sees an opportunity in the fact that you haven’t stood up yet, fully wrapping his arms around your shoulders, nearly causing you to fall into the chlorinated water. his laughter only increases in volume, and his teammates don’t think they’ve ever heard him laugh that hard. you let out a yelp, feeling the water continue to seep through the fabric of your shirt. you struggle against his embrace, and he shows no signs of releasing you. “lee anton! oh my god— i hate you!”

you both know that you’re lying.

AUTHOR’S NOTE! this is my 30th time trying to post this but we move

#riize x reader #lee anton #anton imagines #anton x reader #riize anton #riize #riize scenarios #req #riize angst #riize fluff

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netherfeildren · 9 months

Text

I urge you: Bite me

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Sometimes love hurts like a split nail, and sometimes we like it like that.

Sometimes Joel hurts like a split nail, you like him like that too.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Raider era Joel; Angst; Obsessive behavior; Possessive behavior; Toxic relationships; Controlling behavior; Mean Joel; Kind of soft Joel too; Frankly, some pretty pathetic behavior; Surprisingly soft sex; Breeding kink; Creampie; Oral sex (f!receiving); Dirty talk; Fingering; Come eating; Size difference; Older man/younger woman; Buckle up we’re going old man trapping!; Joel Miller comes with his own TW

A/N: Idk what to say, she's just in a silly goofy mood, I guess!

Title is from Stigmata: Escaping Texts by Hélène Cixous

Word Count: 9.8K

Read on AO3

You’ve been watching him for close to half an hour now. The longest you’ve probably ever gone without him catching you, barking at you to get lost.

Sometimes… he’s mean.

Cold and brutish and maybe even a little cruel. Not an ounce of patience for the pesky little crush he knows you’ve been nursing for him from the first moment you’d met him. He’s never thrown it in your face, a sort of kindness, you suppose, but it’s always just there, on the periphery, the tip of his tongue, the corner of the room. Hanging over your heads like a black cloud. The reality of the fact that you’re pretty sure you’d do anything he asked of you, in any form, no matter what it was. You’d give him anything if he wanted it from you. This pervasive need to please and impress him. To be strong enough, smart enough, savvy enough to keep up with him and Tess, and yet, you’re always shut out, left behind, scolded or scorned or belittled, and still, and still you want him.

But then other times–other times he could be sweet. Or whatever weak sort of pretense of sweetness a man like him could muster up; like the fruit he brings you on occasion, sweetness. The first time he’d done it you’d cried yourself to sleep afterwards. Heart set to burst, stomach in your throat. Getting down on your knees in gratitude to a man who is just on this side of not completely hating you for a simple piece of fruit doesn’t seem like the best way to get him to respect you, to not look at you as a burden. You’d held off from doing that… just barely.

Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel

You don’t think you’re obsessed with him. Or– you don’t like to call it that. But you do look up to him and you do want him and you would do anything he ever asked of you no matter what it did to you. You’d met him and Tess shortly after you’d arrived in Boston, joined their crew or whatever it was that they called themselves when they went out and did things they weren’t supposed to be doing. You know they have something between them, don’t know the specifics, the technicalities, and you don’t like to think of it. Mostly you push it from your mind and look the other way when they get too close, intimate voices and lingering touches that make your belly sour and curdle, your eyes pinch hot so that you have to call it a day and head home after that.

They live together. Or at least you think they do. They keep you at arms length enough to know that there are two apartments they keep, one that you’re pretty is for contraband and one for fucking and sleeping and eating, but you’re not entirely sure. Another thing you like to close your eyes to.

They never let you do much, don’t trust you, don’t think you competent or strong enough which is fair and fine you suppose. But you’re smart, good with numbers, sound logical head on your shoulders and they know this. Hard pressed as they are to admit it, sometimes you have good ideas, and sometimes they come to you for your opinion on logistics, distances, measurements. These are the times Joel is cruelest. He gets mean when he’s nervous, like a bad dog. And your involvement in their business makes him nervous as hell. Mostly you fetch things for them, and Tess likes to call you puppy sometimes which you know is just another way of saying you’re his little bitch. Something that, deep inside of you where it’s quiet and secret and maybe a little delusional, you think he’d not stand for if she actually said those words out loud. There is, you think, a line to his cruelty and a space he keeps you in, and that line is not to be crossed and that space not to be trespassed, and if it weren't for the way he looks at you sometimes, the fruit or the sweater he’d brought you once, it’s soft, goes with you, he’d told you, you’d not have noticed that line or that space. But it’s there, you know it’s there.

Lately though, things have been… you don’t know, tenser, perhaps. Angrier, on the edge of something, verging on a scream or a fight. Between the two of them, but also towards you. You’d worried they were getting sick of you or that they’d finally realized the little they had you do was not nearly enough to warrant including you in their takings – even though you knew they always cut you short and took the bigger piece for themselves. A few days ago, you’d been exhausted, taking shifts at the old mall for cleanup behind their backs, Joel doesn’t like it when you take FEDRA work, but the dude you rented your little room from had told you last week he’d be upping your rent to twenty rations a week, a truly obscene amount. And you didn’t want to tell Tess and Joel, you didn’t, couldn’t ask them for help, and you also didn’t want to get kicked out of your room. So you’d taken a few shifts on the down low, just as a source of cushion. They’ve been planning a big haul for several days now, and she’d come to you to double check their measurements and distance calculations. Easy work you should’ve been through with quickly, but you’d been so tired. Overworked and underfed because sometimes you’re stupid and soft and share too much with the old lady that lives in the room next door to yours, and your head had been throbbing something fierce, vision glowing bright white. You just needed sleep, and Tess had been so sick of you, angry and snappish, and you’d even thought, just for a second, that she was going to strike you when you couldn’t make sense of their notes and the plan she was disclosing to you. Which had admittedly surprised you for as shit as they usually treated you, they’d never once, either of them, laid a hand on you. And it had surprised you doubly from Tess who, despite the puppy shit, could sometimes be sort of kind to you. You know it’s pity, but you also know she’s a good person. Despite the stealing and the drug dealing, and yeah probably, or most definitely, even the murdering – she’s a good person. Or whatever semblance of a good person a world like this allows for now. So yeah, something was off. A petty and bitter and terrible part of you hopes it’s something between them. That they’re breaking up, that he’s leaving her, that he’s finally realized he wants you as much as you want him. Wishful thinking of a silly little girl.

He calls you soft. Sometimes, he probably even calls you dumb. How could he not when you follow him around the way you do? Half the moon shining in your eyes for him. You could say you don’t care, and most of the time you don’t, but like you’d said, things were different recently. Tense and angry and there was a frenetic sort of energy that buzzed around Joel whenever you came around now, an extra ounce of pity punctuated by something sharp and mean in Tess’s gaze that’s added to you having pulled back a little from them as of late, as well.

And then there had been, well… you don’t want to think of it. You turn your face away from where you’ve been watching him the past half hour, sitting on a dirty bench a ways away from where he’s been having a conversation with another man since you’ve been sat here. They look like they're arguing, or better said, the man looks like he’s trying to argue at Joel who’s scowling down at him with a look of utter disdain and disgust, thick bulging arms crossed across his chest. You cross your own legs at the knee, pressing your thighs together. You don’t want to look at him anymore. You don’t want to see him anymore. You don’t want to love him anymore because you’d never really loved anyone else before your whole life, but you’re pretty sure you love Joel. As mean or as angry or as cold as he can be, you’re pretty sure you love him. Again, like you’d said, silly girl.

And there had been that thing last week, the bursting of the old rotten fruit the three of you pose as, which you don’t like to think of, but which, if you’re being honest, has lived like the plague, like a parasite inside of your mind the past week since it’d happened. You were supposed to meet them at noon last Thursday at the apartment, but it’d seemed like it was about to start pouring so you’d headed over a little early, had put on the soft blue sweater he’d brought you days back and hadn’t wanted it to get wet. Foolish. And you’d knocked, you had, you always did for this exact reason, but when there’d been no answer you’d stupidly pushed the door open anyways, they’d told you to meet them there at noon it was only ten minutes to noon, you weren’t even that early, only to be met with the sight of Tess’s retreating form into the restroom, shutting the door behind her, and him, a curdle of bile in your throat, his naked torso, thick and strongly built, hard muscle and hair and scars, jeans open and his thick, long cock, lying heavily on his belly, still shiny with damp slick, the white of his spurted semen glistening on the skin of his abdomen and chest. There was a sheen to his collarbones and his forehead and his dark curls were a mess, like fingers had been recently run through them.

When you were ten you watched your parents get killed in a raid right in front of you. The sight of him like this by the hands of another woman was not as bad, but very close. You’d paused for a too long second, hand on the doorknob that felt cold as dry ice, burning your skin, and the two of you had just stared at each other. His gaze had been so vacant, so hard. Like he’d wanted you to see, like he was glad. You couldn’t help the tears that had filled your eyes because you knew that he knew. Knows how you feel. A muscle under his right eye had spasmed at the sight of your emotion, the frown in his brow deepening and as he’d made to stand up to tuck away the source of your horror you’d spun on your heel and ran. Down the stairs and straight across the entirety of the QZ to the opposite end, as far away as you could get from them and that apartment and the sight of his wet and used cock. You’d gone to the far wall of the QZ that spot where you knew there was a little part in the slats you liked to look out of sometimes when you were feeling restless and trapped, and you’d thrown up in the dry and overgrown grass.

It’d been a week and a day since then, and you want to hate him so badly. You want to hate him so badly. But you’re pretty sure the incident had only made you want him more.

And you want to hurt him too.

Which is surprising because you lack a severe sense of violence or hardness a life like this now warrants, but also not because it’s just been too much. Too much of being belittled, too few scraps of kindness, affection, softness, compassion, anything. And maybe you were soft or dumb or too young, too naive, too weak or any of the other things they liked to call you, puppy, but you also have a limit, even though you’d not previously known that it existed, and you’re pretty sure now that you’re coming to that limit pretty soon.

Honest or pathetic or whatever it is that it sounds like, the truth is that you just want someone to be nice to you. To pet your hair or hold you or tell you that you’re good and that it’ll all be okay. You want that very badly, and he will not give that to you, this you know with absolute certainty.

There is also the issue of your friend Adam. Adam who lives on the opposite side of your old neighbor, and who is kind and sweet and patient and who helped you get the clean up job at the mall. He likes you, you know it. Maybe he even wants you. But he’s just so– he’s not– no, you won’t think on that either right now.

Over half an hour now, and he’s not snapped at you to quit staring at him. Come over here and handed your ass to you for following him around or eavesdropping on his conversation. He hasn’t looked over at you a single time. Maybe he hasn’t noticed you, maybe a week and a day is long enough for him to have forgotten about you entirely, and your heart pinches and burns at the thought. You close your eyes to the warm sun. The weather is so unusually nice today. The sun, soft and soothing, and if you tip your head back and let the light of it shine through the thin membrane of your eyelids, you can feel that heat seep into your eyes, feel it on your bare arms propped up on the back of the bench. You’re tired today, again. That sort of bone tired that makes you dizzy and sick in your belly. Not enough food, not enough sleep, not enough anything. There’s a meagerness that lives about you all the time now, but there’s warmth right here in this spot on the bench, and Joel nearby, and even if he hasn’t noticed you, even though he’s never really noticed you, the sun is still there, and it’s still nice to watch him from afar. And yes, you’re pathetic, but you don’t really care about that so much, to be honest.

You want to hate him so badly.

“Where ya been?” He knocks the edge of his boot into the prominence of bone on the outside of your ankle and you hiss, jerking your leg back and away from him, not having heard him come up. He never says your name. Never. You’ve heard him utter the word four times in the entirety of the time the two of you have known each other, and it makes you want to bear your teeth at him or kick him in the shin, scream until his ears bleed. Does he really think you so small and insignificant that he cannot even address you by name when he speaks to you? Asshole.

“I’ve been here,” and there is too much truth to the words.

“On this bench?”

“What?” you look away from him again, swallowing. He is not a funny person, and you would like to tell him so. He’s looming over you, hands on his hips and a pissed off look on his face, and sometimes, you’ve realized that the angrier he gets the wetter it makes you, and you really don’t want to think about that right now either. You’re too tired, you don’t want to think about anything. You wonder if anyone’d notice if you just laid down right here and went to sleep forever. There are two warring sides within you, one that whispers that you could drop dead infront of him, and he’d not give a single fuck, and another that says that if something bad happened to you he’d be truly, truly displeased.

You feel newly hatched, newly made, too exhausted to deal with the enormity of all you feel for him right now.

He tries to knock your ankle again, and you whip your face back towards him “What do you want?” You spit at him, and his mouth parts, a little shocked, you’ve never been anything but meek and sweet and desperate towards him. But the shock of your temper passes quickly, and you watch him harden like stone before your very eyes. His face and demeanor going stony and angry and serious, readying to put you in your place. The sight of it chases all the fight out of you, you deflate like a sadly trampled flower and seem to melt into the surface of the bench. Let him do and say what he will, you don’t care anymore.

“I want you to fucking look at me when I’m speaking to you, first of all. And I want to know where you’ve been and why you haven’t come around?”

Voice dead: “Don’t you also want to know why I don’t knock before walking into other people’s homes?” And you don’t know where it comes from, and you kind of feel like you might vomit at his feet or start crying or a little bit of both, but you’re glad you say it anyways.

Another look of shock, and if you weren’t so beaten down bone dead tired, you’d probably smile a little. But that passes quickly again too and like a knife to a lung or a fist to the belly he says, “You did knock.”

So he knew and let you see anyways. You nod once, “You’re right, I did.”

“Is that what this is about?”

“What?”

“Stop being purposefully fuckin’ obtuse, little girl.” Little girl, fuck you.

“Obtuse. Big word, I thought you needed me for the brains.”

His frown changes, different form anger, more like confusion; “What’s wrong with you today?” You don’t know. You feel sad. Tired. Alone. Angry.

“Nothing,” you lie, looking away from him. “Did you need something from me?” You know what the answer will be.

“No.” Yeah.

A dip of your chin. “I gave Tess my notes. The plan for tonight’s good.” You slide to the far end of the bench so that you can stand without being too close to him, and he takes a single side step towards you. All at once: confused, questioning, angry look on his face. You want to smooth out the little frowning wrinkle between his eyebrows, you want to hate him, you want to take him inside of you. The sight of his wet cock flashes in your mind. If he fucked you it’d hurt, you’re sure of it. You’re also sure you’d like it if it did. Your mother had died before you’d become a woman, gotten your period, known anything about what it would be like to walk around the world with a thing between your legs that men would covet. You’d gone to live with a woman who was kind of her friend, but not really, but who in the end, had been kind enough to shelter a lonely child, told you about the world and set you up so that you’d at least survive on your own, if not thrive. She’d told you that sometimes love hurt like a split nail, and that sometimes we liked it like that. That sometimes people came out a little gnarled and looked for equally strange things in return, and that you should be wary of this but not punish yourself for it. Things were the way they were. You’d not understood at the time, had only thought her to have the saddest sort of eyes you’d ever seen in your short life, but when you looked at yourself in the mirror now as a grown woman, you saw those same sort of eyes reflected back at you, and you felt you understood what she’d meant.

He takes another small step towards you, and you look the opposite way, down the street towards your cold little room with the land lord who you’re pretty sure is eventually going to ask for a fuck instead of rations. The thought of that is somehow tragically better than the thought of his damp and used body and that cold and taunting look in his eyes, Tess’s pity and sharp voice and desire to strike you.

Adam had said he had more work for you tonight, you think you’ll sleep for a few hours and then go find him. “You’re not coming,” he says sharply, interrupting your thoughts, invading your thoughts like always.

You look back at him, the frown, the aggressive, commanding aspect of him. Of course he doesn't want you there. “No, I’m not. I have other things I need to do.” Stupid to add that on, but you can’t help yourself.

“Like what?”

“My friend Adam has been finding me work.” Stupid, stupid. Shut your damn mouth.

“What the fuck are you talking about? That’s where you’ve been running off to these past few days? I thought we had an arrangement the three of us–”

You scoff, “An arrangement? That’s what it was? I thought I was just your puppy,” and the words burn and writhe like something poisoned on your tongue. You’d never said that word aloud to him, never acknowledged what it is they see you as.

He swallows, at a loss for words, “Listen, if this is about–”

“Joel, I don’t care how you keep your dick wet. We had,” another bitter laugh, we, what a fucking joke, “The arrangement served its purpose, but I think it’s run its course, don’t you? I’ll help with plans when you guys need me, but I need more work. Teddy,” the landlord, “s’been asking for more rent rations–”

“That slimy fuck can’t do that to you–”

You ignore him, stepping back and soldiering on, “And I need more work. I’ve been helping the clean up crews–”

His eyes go wide and bugged and furious, and he takes several more steps to match your retreating ones, “You’ve been doing fucking what? And who the fuck is Adam?” he growls, hand coming up to catch you when all you want at this moment is for him to finally let you go. At the same time, the man he was speaking to before, the pseudo arguer, calls out to him from behind, coming up upon the two of you, and when Joel turns to look back at him you spin on your heel and scamper away as quick as you can. He calls out your name after you, the fifth time he’s ever said it, and it is no longer a split nail, but a split limb, a split rib, a split heart, something terrible and devastating.

You make it back to your room in time to collapse into the saddest puddle of tears that’s surely ever existed. Face down, buried in your pillows you cry for a thing you’d never even had the possibility of having, but which still hurts like a blow to the skull nonetheless. Something that you can no longer push from your mind or close your eyes to or swallow and hide away in your belly. He doesn’t love you. He never has and he never will, and there was never the possibility of it, and you have to accept that. And you must also accept that it is not some failing on your part, his inability to choose you, to love you. You know that there are parts of Joel that are broken beyond repair, sometimes people come out a little gnarled and look for equally strange things in return, and you cannot tell yourself either that it’s his loss because honestly, perhaps, it isn’t. Perhaps, it just isn't meant to be, and it is no sort of loss because it was never really anything that was ever supposed to really be. You must tell yourself these things not to hurt yourself but because you are tired of hurting. He doesn't love you, and it isn't your fault, and there's nothing you could have done about it and nothing you can do about it and things move forward anyways.

You sleep after this, lulled into unconsciousness by the pounding of your temples and the slow, cold drip of your tears across the bridge of your nose and into your ear. The wall your bed is pushed up against is a sickly yellow color, deep, old cracks and water damage marring the surface, and it’s such a sad sight it makes you even more depressed, and when you finally close your eyes to escape it, even though all you can see in your mind is the look on his face right before you walked away from him, even though it’s an infinitely painful sort of thing, it soothes you in a sick and twisted sort of way to know he’s out there in the world existing. Even if you want to hate him, even if you don’t, even if his very existence pains you, it’s still somehow comforting.

The job Adam has for you turns out to be stupider and more dangerous and bigger than you’d bargained for. His crew is trying to steal a generator from an old FEDRA warehouse that they’d heard about through their grapevine of informants. He doesn’t tell you what the generator is for, nor where it is they’re exactly stealing it from. All he tells you is that he needs you to stand at a previously decided upon spot in the woods near where their drop off location is, and keep watch. There will be another person posted a few miles away from you, and if there’s any movement there shouldn’t be you’re to come looking for the next person who’ll find the next and then the next and alert whoever it is that needs to be alerted that something’s amiss. Stand, watch, signal if necessary, and it seems simple enough, but the catch, the fact that you need to leave the QZ is what you’d not accounted for. Something you’d never done before. After several hours of restless sleep and a slightly revolting can of old chili and beans you feel partially more yourself and not so haggardly terrible. You’ve decided that the conversation with Joel never happened and that you’re going to avoid the two of them for the rest of your life and pretend like you never met them and they don’t exist and maybe you’ll even give Adam a chance to fuck you, and then perhaps, the memory of Joel will be jostled out of your head by another mans dick. Good, sound plan.

It’s raining something awful outside by the time the two of you make it to the meetup point and the place where you’re to stay and keep watch, and you don’t think about the fact that at this very moment Tess and Joel are probably also sneaking their way out of the QZ to go on their own run. You’re comforted by the fact that you know that their raid will lead them in the opposite direction of where you’ll be tonight. The spot you’re to keep isn’t so deep in the woods that the moonlight isn’t able to make its way through the trees, and the rain has abated slightly by the time you’re settled into your spot on the cold ground where you’re to wait and watch. Adam leaves with a short nod and a brush of his thumb to the high arch of your cheekbone which elicits a slightly nauseating flip of your stomach that you choose to ignore. Evasion is obviously your favorite tactic of self preservation, and you wonder when all this burying of your head in the sand will finally catch up to you.

You sit for several hours in the dark silence, and it eventually stops raining and with the cessation of the cold downpour comes your fear. The silence is so loud and the dark seems to swell and throb around you with the loss of the rhythm and movement of the rain. You’re freezing cold, and Adam had said to not move until he came back for you, but he’d not specified how long that’d be, and now that you’re stuck here, shivering and stomach cramping with hunger, fuck those beans, you’re realizing how ostensibly stupid this was of you, and you also can’t help but think that Joel would have never asked this of you, he would have never left you out here in the dark wilderness unprotected, he probably would’ve tied you up and muzzled you before he even let you out of the QZ, and to be perfectly honest, you think you’d probably like that too. Pathetic.

You sit for a short while longer before something shifts. The moon or the wind or something that doesn’t feel right; your level of fear ricochets up to a scream for a second, and then you hear the snap of a branch from what seems to be one side, and then the shift of trees from another direction. You get to your feet and make a slow circle in the place your standing, frightened eyes searching the darkness for something that shouldn’t be there, and as you’re about to call it quits and bolt, fuck Adam and his stupid plan, you’re jerked back into a rock solid, wide chest, large, rough hand clamping tight and painful over your mouth. You freeze paralyzed for a single second, heart racing within your chest like a small animal on the verge of death, but then his rough voice, angrier than you’ve ever heard it, soft in your ear. “You better tell me I’m hallucinating you out here right now.” Your body sags, adrenaline leaving you in a florid rush, so that you’re wilting in his hold. You make a choked, garbled sort of noise in your throat, head hanging so that the weight of it is held in the cup of his palm, and you’re pretty sure you feel his head bend to nose into the back of your loose hair at the base of your skull. The two of you stand like that for a few moments while you catch your breath, and yes, that’s definitely the tip of his nose smelling at your hair, the soft place behind your ear. The feel of his skin meeting yours sparks a sort of frenzy within you, and you snap into rage, limbs jerking and shivering and throwing you into movement, pulling yourself out of his grip and whipping back to face him. In the weak light of the moon you can see that his eyes are darker and angrier than you’ve ever seen them. Even that time you were incredibly stupid and clumsy and had slipped on a ladder you shouldn’t have been climbing, for a job you shouldn’t have taken and cracked a rib. He is definitely more furious with you this time.

“Let me guess,” he spits, taking an aggressive step towards you, “This is the fucking job your little fuckin’ friend got for you.” He says your name again, for the sixth time and twice in one day, and it’s enfolded in a casing of rage that feels bitter and punishing in a way that makes a sharp pain start up behind your left eyeball, deep in your brain. “How fucking stupid can you be coming out here? You’re going to get yourself killed, caught, thrown in FEDRA prison, and I’m not gonna be able to get your ass out, you hear me? You are not fuckin’ built to be out here doin’ shit like this and–”

You rush at him suddenly, using all your weight to slam your palms into his chest, the rain has started up again, and he’s slightly slippery and steaming hot beneath his wet clothes. You slam your tiny and inconsequential fists into the incredible strength of his chest, the other going up to the edge of his jaw to try and shove his face back but he’s too strong and too big and too unmoved so that you’re left to resort to simply digging your nails into the meat of his cheek like a pathetic little kitten. “I am so fucking sick–” you try and shove him again, and he takes a looming step into you, bumping his chest into yours and jostling you into taking a forced step back, “Of the way you treat me.” You drag your nails over the edge of his jaw and down his neck, trying to draw blood, incite a reaction, but he’s made of stone and you hate him. “You’re such a fucking asshole all the time, and I’m tired of it, and I hate you.” There are tears sliding down your face, and you thank the sky for the masking of the rain. “You find me so fucking burdensome, so annoying, so useless or whatever your fucking problem is with me then go away, leave me alone! What I’m doing out here is none of your business.” Another weak slam of your fists to his chest, the drag of your nails down the thick jut of his collarbone, and you shove yourself back and away from him. Chest heaving, throat choked with tears and resentment and fear and love for him.

“You hate me, huh?” he says very quietly and very calmly.

Your face spasms in frustration and rage, and you turn away from him to face the dark of the surrounding woods, hands coming up to clutch and pull at your hair. “Yes. I hate you so much,” the sobbing heaves make it all sound very convincing, you’re sure.

“And you’re tired of the way I treat you?”

Why is he so fucking calm? Maybe you should hit him again. “Yes, I am.”

“Got your little panties all in a twist, don’t you, little girl?” Little, little, little. Your heart dips down into your stomach, your arms falling to hang limply at your sides. “But I bet if I checked, they’d also be wet for me right now, wouldn’t they?” You’ve never heard his voice sound like this. You turn slowly back to look at his face again, but before you can even shake your head, deny it, he’s rushing at you, strong hand clamping painfully around your jaw, smooshing your cheeks together, and he’s seething at you through clenched teeth. “You fuckin hate me? Well I hate you back. I hate you more. More than you could ever imagine, and I fucking hate how much you make me want you.” Your eyes go wide and shocked and full of tears. “Huh? How ‘bout that? Bet you weren’t expectin’ that, were you?” He’s so angry the drawl of his accent is deepened, sharper, amputating the ends of his words with his rage, and he shoves you away by the grip on your face, leaving you to stumble in shock.

You can’t speak, can’t say anything, he’s struck you dumb. Your eyes slither down his wet form. His soaking flannel is plastered to his thick torso, big, bulging arms and wide chest, his long legs encased in dark denim. When your gaze makes its way back up to his face he’s scowling at you. “Got nothin’ to say?” You take a tiny step back and he matches it with one of his own forward, a half jerk of your chin. “Have you let that stupid fuck have you?”

And you really weren’t expecting that, “What?” voice confused and breathy, heat pooling low in your tummy. You look over his shoulder at the dark space behind him, “Where’s Tess?”

He shakes his head, irritated and short, “I pissed her off. She stayed back. Adam – are you letting him fuck you?” Another step forward to match one of your own, and his eyes flash down to your feet, he gives a slight shake of his head as if to warn you off of your retreat.

This angers you. “What do you care who I’m letting have me? What if he is fucking me? As if that’s any of your damn business.” You take two more steps back, and his face spasms in anger.

“Fucking run,” he whispers, “I dare you.” Your legs lock in obstinacy, you’re not doing what he tells you anymore. “Answer me. Are you letting him fuck you?”

“No.” Pathetic.

“But he wants to.”

“Yes.”

Something verging on a snarl deep in his chest, “And he brought you out here? Left you out here alone? When he wants you like that? And you were stupid enough to let him?” But suddenly, something is clicking inside of your mind, and you’re not really paying attention to the things he’s saying to you anymore. He’s angry. He’s jealous. You give him a little smile and oh, that really pisses him off. You give another step back, nod your head gently at him, soft smile widening. Another deep, rumbly sound that makes your cunt go soft and wet and your heart gallop inside of you. “You better fucking run, little girl. You’re not going to like what happens when I get my hands on you, and I’m not going to care.”

It’s not a threat. It’s a promise, and you don’t need him to tell you twice. You spin on your heel and make a run for it. Weaving through the trees, guided by the weak light of the rainy moon, you know there are houses a short ways west, and you pump your legs and arms as fast as you can in that direction. You’ll hide in one of them. If he finds you, catches you is a thought for when or if he does so. But you can hear the heavy pound of his boots slamming against the ground behind you, close enough to jostle your heart up into your throat, and you let out an entirely inappropriate little squeal as you do your best to speed up. But he’s stronger, legs longer and more powerful and being caught was an inevitability. As soon as the first house comes into view an uncompromisingly strong arm is wrapping around your waist, painfully crushing your ribs in the circle of his grasp and slamming you into his chest. He comes to a jerking halt with you held in his arms, and the length of his panting, steaming body presses into your back, his other arm coming up to circle you as well, and he reaches for your heaving breast, clutching the heavy weight of it tightly in his hand and squeezing a ragged moan out of the both of you at the same time. “Caught you,” he whispers into your throat, pressing a thick, growing erection into your bottom. He spins you in his hold, nothing gentle about the way he handles you, grips you by the jaw forcing your mouth open, fingers digging between your molars and slams his mouth to yours, wet tongue licking into you, tasting behind your teeth, the surface of your tongue. You moan and claw and scratch at him, trying to hit him and pull him closer and push him away, all at the same time. Hand snaking from your jaw to fist in the back of your hair he yanks your head back, wet mouth left open and panting and that anger is different now, something unrecognizable about it when he says, “More than anything though, I hate how much I want this cunt.” His hand on your waist has slithered down over your ass and between your legs to cup your pussy in his wide hand, fingers pressing harshly at the seam of your denim over your clit. You think you must whisper his name because he nods his head once, and then is bending at the knees to press his shoulder into the soft of your belly and straightening to his full height again with you slung over the thick mass of his wide shoulder like a sack of potatoes. You don’t even protest, just lay there limply, arms and hair hanging overhead and swaying with the rhythm of his gait as he starts to walk towards the first house, and all you can think is finally.

He does two slow roves around the house before he tries the backdoor handle, in the end, simply resorting to kicking it in. He pauses at the threshold for a moment, and he’s not even slightly out of breath with the entirety of your weight folded over his shoulder after that chase. The ground is so far away from where you hang, he’s so tall, and you can’t help it when you drag your hand up the denim over the back of his thigh, over the thick swell of muscle of his ass to the edge of his jeans where you tuck your fingers in, feeling the heat of his damp skin. He growls at that, at the feel of your exploration and grips the back of one of your thighs tightly, the other coming up to squeeze an ass cheek in his hand, and then you feel the press of his face and the sharp bite of his teeth as he sinks them into the side of your ass over the thick fabric of your pants with a gruff snarl. You whimper, digging your fingers into the muscles of his lower back. He kicks the door shut behind you and moves slowly through the entire house after that, pistol gripped in one hand, you in the other, making sure the house is alone and secure. When he’s finally assured himself that the two of you are alone, he makes his way to one of the bedrooms, shutting and locking the door behind the two of you and then ripping the old dusty comforter and pillows off the bed where he shucks you off his shoulder, letting you fall to the mattress with a limp bounce. He doesn’t even ask, doesn’t say anything, simply starts at the laces of your boots, pulling them from your feet and then your socks where he lifts your small foot, big hand wrapped entirely around the thing of it, and drags his teeth over your sensitive instep. You moan, trying to pull your limb away from him, but he flashes you a hot and warning look and you settle. What’s the point in fighting, you think, if this is the very thing you’ve wanted all this time anyways? He pulls you up by the lapels of your too thin jacket, which he tuts at recriminatingly, divests you of it. Before he pushes you back to flop on the bed again, he grips you by the throat to lick into your mouth once more, moans deep and wanton in his chest, a vibration of sound you’ve never before heard from any man at the simple taste of you. He works at your jeans and sweater next, then finally your panties and bra. He doesn’t seem to really look until you’re finally entirely bare for him, limbs splayed out, soft and loose and too sticky sweet. His eyes are like fire, they burn, and you stretch and arch for him, letting him scorch you. He falls forward, propped up over you by the strength of his thick arms and dips his head to suck a single nipple into his mouth, opens his jaw wider and bites at the full globe of your breast as if he could swallow the entire thing. He moves to give the other one equal attention, your hands coming up to thread through his thick curls, and when he looks back up at you his gaze is manic, and if you wanted him less, maybe had more sense, it would perhaps be frightening.

“What do you want?” He asks you in a way that tells you he doesn’t really care what your answer is.

“Anything.”

He shakes his head at you as he moves to grip you beneath the bend of each knee to spread you wide for him. “Begging for things you don’t know nothin’ about.”

“I don’t care,” you tell him, “I want them anyways,” because it’s the truth, and he nods his head like he already knew, like he knows everything there is to know about you and maybe even the things that you don’t even know about yourself yet.

“You’re too young,” he shoulders his way down to lay on his belly between your thighs, and when his eyes land on your slick, swollen cunt his voice drops down to an even lower octave. “And you want this too much.”

“I know. I don’t care.” You drag your thumb over the arch of his thick eyebrow, the hairs are coarse but soft and then he lowers his mouth to your pussy.

He eats your cunt like everything else he does, a little mean. Starts with gentle laps, soft kisses, but eventually, graduates to sharp sucks and harsh nips, all teeth and tongue and plush lips so that your hips are arching in desperate and begging little motions, thrusting up into his face. When he presses first one then two of those thick long fingers into your opening it pinches in a way you weren't expecting. Only his fingers have you twinging on the verge of discomfort, and you don’t know how you’ll take his cock, but you know he isn’t going to give you the opportunity for choice or pause, and so you lay there and spread your legs wider and take it. He interchanges between rough and gentle, fingers petting softly at that sensitive place inside of you you’ve always wanted to give him, but mouth sharp and mean sucking harshly at your clit, nipping at the lips of your sex and the vulnerable soft of your thighs, covering the entirety of your pussy with his mouth and then licking at your fluttering hole when he pulls his fingers from you to taste the rivulet of slick you’re weeping for him. He groans and you watch the shift of his shoulders and back, the thrust of his hips as he grinds his cock into the mattress desperately, the gathering of sweat at his hairline. He presses his fingers back in, crooks and shakes them inside of you to jostle your orgasm forward, and like every other time you’ve followed him into complacency and obedience blindly, you gush for him, a broken sob of his name splintering from behind the line of your teeth. He’s sucking and kissing at your clit, the space above where his fingers penetrate you, but when you throw your arm over your eyes to hide the sight of your overwhelmed tears from him he pauses, “Want your eyes on me when you’re coming for me, you understand?” A pinch to your asscheek, a kiss to the top of your mound. You sniffle, shifting your head to rest your cheek on your shoulder and watch him over the swell of your breasts as he resumes the work of his mouth on you. He licks through your folds, pulling his fingers from you to lap up all of your spilled lust, and when he’s done, pulling back to look down at you like some conquering villain he reaches down and pats the top of your cunt, “She’s mine now,” he tells you, and you can’t even dispute it. He kneels between your spread legs, a murmured, wanna look at you, as he starts on the buttons of his shirt, pulling it open and baring himself to you. You’d already seen his naked chest that other time, and the memory of it embitters the moment, you turn your face into the crook of your raised arms, hiding your face away from him, and he tuts at you. “Told you, want those gorgeous eyes on me at all times.” And you love him, Christ, you do. It’s the most unfair thing in the world, the most painful thing that’s ever happened to you in your entire life. You want to cry and scream and kick. You obey anyways. Shifting your face with a small sniffle to peer up at him from beneath your lashes. You want to pull your legs closed, feeling suddenly, unbearably shy and hurt and newly made. Like the orgasm he’d pulled forth from you had brought to light the reality of your existence in the world, in his life. A non entity.

And like he can read your mind, like he’s acquired a direct line of communication for himself to your brain, your very heart: “Me and Tess haven’t been anything for a while.” He goes for the button of his jeans, you listen to the teeth of the zipper parting for you. “Not since you started coming around.” You would like to ask him to stop. You make to close your legs, your cunt like a wound in the shape of your desire for him, bared and obvious to the whole world, but he grips you about the round of your knee, squeezing the joint and keeping you spread for him. “I just couldn’t anymore. And the other day– what you saw the other day was just me being desperate and pathetic and unfairly angry at you. It was me being weak and stupid, and that isn’t an excuse.” He stands and shucks his jeans, he’s not wearing underwear, and God, you want him with a sort of desperation that’s unhinged and maybe even wrong or depraved. “She knows we’ve been through. Told her again today, but still… I needed to stay away to keep you away. This shouldn't be happening right now, and yet it’s going to anyway, and after this, it’s going to keep happening–” Your heart flames into elation, and then goes frozen and bitter all at the same time. You want to kick him away, but settle for trying to twist away from him. Angry and hurt and not wanting to hear anymore, to think about him fucking her, of their shared history, their relationship.

You try and wriggle away, but he pulls you back by your hips, big hands sliding up the slopes of your waist to squeeze and knead at your breasts. You grip and claw at him, “I don’t care, I don’t care. I don’t want to hear any of it. You’ve been so–” you gasp on a sob.

“I know,” he nuzzles into your skin. “I know,” a kiss to your jaw and his bare form is settling between your thighs, his thick, long cock coming to rest heavily over the wet, parted seam of your cunt. You gasp at the feel of him there. “Don’t think I’ve ever wanted to take something for myself as badly as I wanted to take you. It made me mean as a dog.” He sucks a nipple into his mouth, biting gently. His mouth is everywhere, his hands gripping and pinching at your breasts, clutching at your ass to grind his hard cock against your pussy. He pulls back, and the wide head notches at your entrance. Oh, please, fuck me, fuck me. Finally.

“Gonna fuck your little cunt, baby. Make you all mine.”

“Please, Joel.” He goes slowly at first, fat head catching on the rim, popping it in and out, he pauses to look down, only his tip held inside of you, and he spits, right at the place where the two of you’re connected, smears it in with his fingers.

“Hot little pussy. Gonna take the whole thing, greedy little girl. Aren’t you?” You nod your head stupidly, mouth hanging open, eyes wide and wet, and you wonder if he can read that you’re in love with him there. You kind of hope he can. He presses in slowly so that you’re forced to feel every bump and ridge, your hips rocking unconsciously, trying to take more faster, but he’s big, thick and heavy, and the taking is not easy. You’re left gasping and arching, writhing wantonly on his cock by the time he’s sunk balls deep inside of you. There’s a bead of sweat sliding down the slope of his cheek, and you have to force yourself to keep your mouth shut and your tongue inside with the hopes of catching it there. He pants and groans, pulling and pressing you closer into him, grinding deep so that the wide head rubs at the mouth of your cervix. You can feel the ripple and shiver of your muscles, your body trying to adjust to such a large invasion and he kisses and licks at your face, your neck and shoulders and tits, and when your breathing has finally settled he pulls back to look down at you, gives a few light thrusts of his hips, eyes glued to the place where your cunt swallows him, spread obscenely, fit to burst around him. He looks back up at you, “Have you adjusted?” A pause for a brief nod of your head, “Yes? Good. Not gonna be gentle.” You don’t think you’ve ever wanted him to be gentle. After all, the way you’ve always felt about him has never been gentle in turn either. His thrusts take on a brutal edge, the wet slap of his balls against your ass loud and sticky against the slick curve of your ass. “Fucking Christ,” he bends his head to nip at your breast, big hand coming up to squeeze the entire thing and suck it into his mouth, “Got the wettest little cunt, baby.”

You want to beg him to go harder, deeper, to fuck you like he’s in love with you. “It’s yours,” you whisper instead.

“Yeah– fuck yes, it is. Yeah, baby, take my cock. Just like that.” He grips you by the knee, bringing your ankle to his shoulder to bob limply there, folding you entirely in half so that he can drill into you, and you reach up to hook your fingers against the edge of his bottom teeth, pulling his mouth open to peer inside. He laps and bites at your fingers, grips your own jaw, your throat, and you drag your nails down his jaw, his neck leaving little scorches of hurt in your wake. “Wanna see you fucked full of my come. Wanna see you leaking me. You gonna let me fill you up, sweet girl?”

Yes, yes, yes, please. Please, fill me up.

Your other ankle thrown over his shoulder now too, he presses his entire weight into you, his face pressed against yours, whispering into your skin, “And if I fuck you full of my baby? What’ll you do then? Hate me more?”

“No, no, never,” voice delirious and filled with a sort of frenetic energy he seems to be able to harness at whim. “Please, please, fuck me full of your baby. Please, I want it so bad, Joel. I do, I do.” He pauses his thrusts, holds there in the depths of you, grinds and squeezes you so tight you think a lung might burst.

When he pulls back the look on his face is just as unhinged as you’ve always felt about him. “Fucking Christ,” he starts to slam back into you, thumb at your clit, the other cradling the bowl of your skull in his palm, fingers woven through your hair. “Yeah– yeah, I’m gonna do it,” he grits. “Then it won’t fucking matter if you hate me or not. You’ll be stuck with me anyways.” He bends to kiss you again, and he tastes like violence, you lick into his mouth, take in the taste of his tongue. When he pulls back to look down at where he’s fucking into you, you reach down to grasp the half of his cock outside of your wet clutch, you want to feel where he’s caliming you, shiny with your slick, you half jack him off with sharp little tugs. “Come inside me, come inside me.” He changes the angle, punches at your g-spot, and the rub of your hand over your clit where you’re gripping him, the feel of his skin, his voice, the slide of his cock, in, in, in, and you’re both shivering and jerking with orgasm, throbbing into one another as he starts to fill you with his spend, his teeth bared in a growl as he marks you with himself. His hips slow, press and grind, and you feel the heavy jerk of his cock inside of you as your muscles work to suck him deeper, milking his come out of him with each tightening pull of your cunt. He presses his face into the damp crook of your shoulder, licks at the sweat gathered there, mouths wetly at your jaw, and you run your hands up the bumps and ridges of his muscled back. There’s a slight tremble running through him, and you hope it means he’s as overwrought by this as you are, that he wanted this as badly as you did, that he’ll want it again as desperately as you already do. He starts to shift, moving down the length of your body, kissing and licking as he goes, his sated cock slipping wetly from your cunt with a shuddered groan from him as he settles back again between your legs and starts to lick the slick from your overwrought cunt. Not seeming to care that he’s eating his own come as well. “Look so pretty drooling me here,” he murmurs, thumbing gently at your trembling opening. “Gonna fill it every day now. Fuck it full of my baby. You want that?” He looks up at you with a sly look, nipping at your thigh, sucking marks into your skin, all you can do is nod. Once he’s through licking you he crawls back up your body, wedges your jaw open and with a puckered mouth lets a long string of spit and come slowly seep out of his mouth and into your open, waiting one. It’s disgusting and dirty and entirely delicious.

As he flops back on top of you heavily, you drag your nails up and down his skin, threading your fingers through his curls and angling his head to hide beneath the edge of your jaw. His breathing starts to slow and deepen after a while, and you smile lightly, wrapping your arms and legs around him like snaking, strangling vines, and pressing your nose into the thick of his hair, taking in the musky, masculine scent of him, you know that after this you'll do anything, anything to keep him here with you just like this.

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

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#Joel Miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller imagine #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal

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pervertedreams · 4 months

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gasp! even MORE farleigh hc’s bc now i’m having writers block and it’s easier to do lil short scenarios <3

asks are open and encouraged feedback is even more encouraging!!

general sexual themes. minors dni obviously

- close talker. close talker. CLOSE TALKER!!! no kinda of personal space really, constantly invading your personal bubble. this goes hand in hand with my crouching and bending over to look at you allegations. sour cigarette breath always flooding your nostrils, sometimes almost so close your noses clunk together. he wants to watch you slowly lean back as he stalks closer to you, wants to watch your eyes strain to look up and maintain eye contact with him. he’s grabbing your hands without warning, pinching your cheeks and sides, sometimes placing his large hands on your hips and swiveling you around for whatever dramatic statement he’s making. like i said fave grabbing and again just overall being very invasive when holding conversation. not that you’re necessarily complaining.

- loves being naked, likes to air himself out. i think he especially enjoys skinny dipping. i don’t have any proof to back this up, it’s comin from the heart. he loves being bare in the water, he’s nearly bare anyways. the only thing holding him back is a unnecessarily expensive pair of swim trunks. and when he takes them off he throws the soiled material at your feet, because he’s a smart ass. we know this !

- i do feel as though he is naturally very quick witted and snarky, but i also believe it’s a defense mechanism. i feel as though it doesn’t take much to soften him even though i believe he’s stubborn, i feel like he’s actually very emotional. but maybe he believes being overly emotional gets you nowhere.

- homeboy loves eating box !! LMAO but no i think he loves giving head, just enjoys getting on his knees and pleasuring somebody. loves that intoxicating musky scent of whoever he’s giving head too, loves having his curls gripped and being manhandled and pushed around. mainly sexually. and he’s looking up at you with swollen heavy lips and glossy brown eyes, eager to make you cum. sometimes that smug, asshole-ish energy is still heavily laced throughout whatever sex he’s having, esp if he’s feeling more dominant. same quick yet dry comments, “now cmon baby you can do better than that.”

- ass slapper IDC. playful or not if you walk by or if it’s in his face at any given moment, he’s taking his opportunity every. time. you’ve gotten tired of swatting him away, there’s usually no winning with farleigh. some things are just set in stone. when you get up, when you walk by, if you’re bent over, skirt on, jeans, underwear, it doesn’t matter. if it’s in his line of vision he’s going for it.

- he snores, not loud or annoying but not necessarily quietly. and he’s a stiff sleeper, however he fell asleep he’s waking up the exact same way. despite the scene with him and oliver i believe he’s a somewhat heavy sleeper. he’s not a dead body but he doesn’t sleep like a fairy either. and def jerks off to playgirl to fall asleep if he’s having a tough time.

- speaking of playgirl he strikes me as the type to have a lil magazine collection, porn and fashion specifically. and yes he has both playboy and playgirl, he’s doesn’t discriminate!

- usually forgets to wrap his hair up at night or just straight up wraps it wrong. but to be fair there’s no one their to teach him any better.

- love language is touch and gift giving idk. like he always has his hands on you one way or another, he’s like a magnet. ringed pinky resting on your outer thigh, subconscious hair stroking, arms always somehow draped around your shoulders, hands always resting on your lower hips. sometimes when you’re too far away when he’s talking he’ll pull you by your belt, face touching, hand holding. he just needs skin to skin, or he’ll decay

- his go to response is always a condescending hum, he hums a lot LOL. with like this smugness in his nod and tone.

- feet swinger

- it’s pierced and has a slight curve, and ALWAYS groomed :)

#feedback is always hot #i liked this one hehe #also ur thoughts would be cool to we can bounce off each other #my work┊ ˚➶ ｡˚#meanie rich bf ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪#farleigh start headcanon #saltburn farleigh #farleigh catton #farleigh x reader #farleigh saltburn #farleigh smut #farleigh start #saltburn smut #saltburn felix #saltburn #felix catton x reader #felix catton

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reidreaders · 6 months

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Spencer Reid, Celebrity Crush

Summary: Every now and then, you see this FBI agent on TV and you have been crushing on him for years. What happens when you finally meet him in real life?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: use of y/n, they are both really awkward lol, it's like soon to be idiots in love yk, not proof read, idk what else lmk if I missed anything.

A/N: this idea has been rotting in my brain for so long and I finally decided to write it lol. I had sooo much fun writing this so lmk if you a part 2!!! Enjoy!!!!

MASTERLIST

Your favorite time of night was when you and your roommate would gather around the TV to watch the five o’clock news. This might not seem like totally normal behavior for two women in their twenties, but you guys didn’t tune in to keep up with what was going on in the world. Rather, you tuned in every night to hopefully catch a glimpse of the man of your dreams. It’s fair to say that most people have a celebrity crush, although normal people are usually infatuated by famous singers, movie stars, and the like. Not you however, the man that you pined for was a local FBI agent. Your roommate would even go as far as to say that he doesn��t count as a ‘celebrity crush’ because he’s not even famous, but he was to you.

You grew up not far from Quantico, meaning that the nightly news was always full of stories about the town’s own personal superheroes, the FBI. You had never been particularly interested in anything having to do with them, until you started hearing about the Behavioral Analysis Unit. You had seen a clip of one of the agents tricking a bystander into proving he was lying on TV, and you instantly fell in love. So, when you sat down to watch the news, you were more than excited to hopefully see him.

You had gotten lucky tonight. The news ran stories about the BAU almost nightly, but it was rare you got to see anyone other than the blonde woman they called Agent Jareau. But tonight was different. You practically screamed when you saw him come on screen, not even paying attention to whatever psychopath he was talking about. Instead, you focused on how his lips moved when he spoke, and the way the breeze outside the police station lifted his hair just ever so slightly. Needless to say, you were practically swooning. You were captivated by his big brown puppy eyes, his mop of messy brown hair, and the way he seemed so passionate about whatever he was talking about. It may have been the delusion talking, but you were pretty sure that if you ever met him, he would fall in love with you too.

A few weeks later, you were rushing to get to work on time. Your alarm hadn’t gone off when it was supposed to, leaving you frantic. Normally, you woke up early, giving yourself time to make breakfast and enjoy a cup of coffee. But today the fates had decided that you would have to settle for a cup of coffee and a croissant to go from the coffee shop down the street from your office.

You placed your order and began to fumble through your purse looking for your wallet.

“Sorry,” you mumbled to the cashier, who seemed to be growing impatient, “It must be in here somewhere.”

After looking for a few more minutes, and creating a giant line of annoyed customers behind you, you had come to the conclusion that in your rush to get out the door this morning, you had forgotten your wallet. Just as you were about to give up and leave the coffee shop, hungry and tired, a familiar voice piped up from behind you.

“Here,” he said, handing the cashier his card, “I’ve got it.”

“Oh my gosh thank you so much!” You said, not yet looking up from your bag.

“It’s no problem really,” He extended his hand to you, “I’m Spencer.”

Oh.

You quickly realized where you had recognized that voice from. He was Spencer. As in Spencer Reid, the FBI agent you were so hopelessly in love with. This was your chance. You had to play it cool. You couldn’t have him realizing that you were some freak who was obsessed with him, you wanted to land a date.

“H-hi!” You stuttered, a little more excitedly than you were hoping to, “I-I’m Y/N.” You reached out to shake his hand, your own becoming a little clammy at the sight of him.

He was tall. Much taller than he seemed to be on TV. You looked up into those big brown eyes you had gazed into through the screen and thought you were going to throw up because of how nervous you were.

“Um-” You cleared your throat, “Do you-uh-do you work around here?” You said in an attempt to seem calm, cool and collected.

“Uh yeah I do. I work for the FBI, so it’s just up the road.” He said, seemingly chuckling at your behavior a little bit.

“Oh! That’s cool! I work just up the road too! Although it’s nothing as exciting as what the FBI must be like I mean-” You were cut off by the barista calling your name, saving you from your incessant rambling.

You collected your coffee and turned to head towards the door, stopping to thank Spencer once again. Just as you were about to leave, you got a wave of courage. There was no way you were going to completely blow this opportunity. I mean, you have had a crush on this guy for forever and there was no way you were going to walk out of here without at least trying to ask him out.

“Hey,” You said much more calmly, “I know we literally just met, and I have been babbling like a freak at you, but I was wondering if you might want to have dinner with me sometime?” You asked, your voice getting higher as you spoke.

“Oh-um,” He sputtered back, clearly taken aback by your proposition, “Um… yeah?” He said it like a question.

“I mean, if you’re not into it that’s totally okay,” you feigned a chuckle, trying not to seem as embarrassed as you actually were, “I just thought it might be nice to uh-um pay you back for the coffee!” You spoke through the world’s fakest smile.

“No!” He practically shouted at you, “I’m into it! I am definitely into it.”

Before you could catch yourself, you were giving him the biggest smile you think you’ve ever managed.

“Great!” You weren’t even trying to hide your excitement anymore, “Here, I’ll give you my number and we can try to set something up!” You said as you wrote your number down on one of the coffee shop’s napkins.

“Y-yeah! That sounds great. I’ll-uh I-I’ll call you!” He stuttered, it was becoming clear that you weren’t the only one who was nervous.

The two of you made your way out of the coffee shop, taking turns stuttering and rambling at the other. You were starting to feel less self conscious about your earlier performance because it seemed as though he had a tendency to be awkward and ramble as well.

“Well, I should probably get to work.” You sighed, not wanting the encounter to end.

“Yeah me too.” He chuckled.

The two of you just stood there for a moment, staring at each other, trying to figure out what to do next. You didn’t want to have to make another move, considering you were the one to ask him out. However, it was becoming apparent that he was too shy to do anything, so you moved closer to him. He made no effort to put any more distance between the two of you, so you took that as your go ahead. You leaned in and threw your arms around his neck, giving him a semi-awkward hug goodbye. He wrapped his arms around you and you realized that you could smell him. All those years of looking at him on TV and yet you never wondered what he might smell like. You were pleasantly surprised. Not that you thought he would smell bad, just that you were used to men who thought that Axe body spray was the same thing as a shower. But Spencer didn’t smell like that, he smelled like old books and good cologne. Like, real, expensive, good cologne.

You realized that you were lingering in the hug for a little longer than what would probably be considered normal, so you pulled away.

“Well, uh, I’ve got to get going,” He blushed and looked at his feet, “But I’ll definitely call you.” He said holding up the napkin with your number on it.

“You better!” You joked, now blushing as well.

With that, he turned and went on his way to work. You stood there for a moment longer, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. You reached into your bag and pulled out your cell phone, dialing your roommate’s number. It rang twice before she picked up.

“Y/R/N, you are never going to believe what just happened!” You squealed into the phone, ready and willing to relay the story to your best friend.

You hung up as soon as you got to the office, and spent the rest of the day unable to focus on work, your brain preoccupied just praying that he would actually call you.

I'm literally obsessed w this lol lmk if you want a part 2 or anything else bc my requests are open!!

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid imagine

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taintedcigs · 9 months

Text

dancing with our hands tied part II — s.h

you can find part I here

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ ONLY, minors dni!!, ANGST, making out, swearing, drinking, alcohol mention, JEALOUSY!!! eddie's a bit of an asshole i am sorry, but so is steve sometimes!! and so is reader? idk!

summary: in which steve is in love with his best friend's ex. (wc: 8k+)

a/n: this is part 2 of this fic here !! pls make sure to read it before this!! anddd, im sorry for how confusing the first part was, BUT HERE'S THE HIDEOUT INCIDENT!! and i didn't use POVs this time and i kinda gave up on dates ugrhh. also i have a little bonus content at the end even tho its so a lil silly!!! also did not proof-read this, pls ignore any mistakes or ill scream n d*e

Friday, February 7, 1986 || The Hideout.

Steve stole a glance in your direction, and immediately realized the mistake he had made.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Why did you have to be so fucking perfect? Why did you have to have the most contagious laugh that immediately brought a warm smile to his lips?

Steve leaned against the bar as he watched you further, reveling at the way your eyes crinkled at the corners when you gave Robin a giggle, nose scrunching as you mimicked whatever story you were telling, drawing him in without even having a clue on the effect you had on him.

Your eyes met his for a brief moment, his heart pounded inside of his ribcage when you looked at him like that, as if your eyes were smiling at him. He held your gaze, giving you a subtle nod.

God, if Steve didn’t tell you how he felt about you soon, he was sure he was going to explode.

He turned back to the bar, head filled with the idea of opening up to you, he had to do it soon or else—

“Harrington!” Eddie beamed, interrupting his thoughts as he grabbed onto Steve’s shoulders, “You mind helpin’ me out?” He grinned, causing Steve’s brows to furrow.

“Can you put in a good word for me?” Eddie muttered, hand pointing toward the booth, “What are you talking about?” Steve muttered, his eyes following him.

“Y/N.” Steve hoped to God that Eddie didn’t notice the shock in his eyes, blinking quickly as he tried to control the jealousy building within him.

“I swear I’ve had the biggest crush on her,” Eddie exclaimed. Steve couldn’t help the way his face fell; he wondered if Eddie could notice it, but by the way he grinned at you, Eddie probably had no fucking clue about his feelings for you.

“Since when?” Steve sounded bitter, chewing at the inside of his mouth to stop himself, “Uh, since forever, dude,” Eddie said, chuckling.

“Put in a little good word for me, yea? I know you guys are close and shit,” Eddie gushed as he squeezed Steve’s shoulders again, and Steve was tense now, his entire body almost burning with rage and resentment.

Maybe it was wrong for Steve to be petty about this; maybe it wasn’t fair to you that he spent the rest of the night ignoring you; maybe it wasn’t right for him to act this way, but Steve had been on this rodeo before.

He was always the second choice, and he knew that he was never going to be someone’s priority. Because of that, his reaction was warranted; at least that’s what he believed. Ignoring you completely while he bitterly watched Eddie make moves on you was the only way he could cope with it.

And it was driving him crazy, knowing that Eddie was getting under your skin with the advice he got from Steve and learning everything about you from him.

At first, it was all just some passive aggressiveness, until it turned into something bigger, until you finally couldn’t take it anymore.

Because there stood Steve, across from the gang’s booth, leaning over the wall as he whispered something into Tammy’s ear—Steve’s ex.

With her shiny blonde hair and her big eyes, she threw him a hearty giggle, sticking to his side, while Steve barely blinked, allowing her to drool all over him.

You had no right to be jealous, not when Steve had no clue about your feelings, not when Steve didn’t owe you a thing, but you couldn’t help the frown on your face as he ignored you all night and was fine with stupid Tammy Thompson being all over him.

Your throat burned with the number of shots you took, you could never handle your tequila, but the numbness was exactly what you needed. Your mind was getting dizzier with Steve being pushed back into your thoughts.

You could feel yourself getting lighter and lighter with each sip, gaze barely holding over Steve’s direction anymore when Eddie had been keeping you company the whole night.

To think Steve was supposed to be your close friend felt like a joke now. The more he was with the blondie, the more you felt your stomach churning, gaze drifting toward Eddie to keep yourself from looking in his direction.

You felt desperate.

Steve probably saw you as the girl who was wrapped around his finger, the girl who followed him around like a puppy. Maybe that’s why he was ignoring you, trying to keep you from clinging to him.

You fidgeted in your seat; not being able to get up and tear her off of him was killing you, and your head was pounding because of the amount alcohol in your system.

It was getting harder to ignore the jealousy that gnawed at your insides.

Eddie didn’t seem to notice anything, but Steve did.

With each shot you took, with each step you took closer to Eddie, Steve couldn’t help the sharp pain he felt in his chest, the same rage of jealousy gnawing at him as well. He knew he couldn’t do anything about it, too, so he buried it deeper and deeper until he could make sure those feelings for you were impossible to reach.

You were going to be dating Eddie, and Steve needed to get over you as fast as he could.

Maybe that’s why he didn’t mind the attention coming from his ex.

By the time Steve arrived back at the booth, Nancy and Jonathan were already gone, you were in the bathroom—possibly puking your guts out, and Robin was getting ready to leave.

“What the fuck happened here?” He asked, concern washing over his face. “She drank a bit too much,” Robin mumbled, knowing how much Steve cared about you.

“You should maybe check on her, yea?” She gave Steve an all-knowing look, causing him to shrug.

“I can’t—” Robin interrupted him with a death glare.

“I would, but I have to go or my mom will actually kill me this time,” She groaned, saying her goodbyes before leaving in a hurry.

“Dude, I gotta bail too,” Eddie puffed his cheeks as he put on his leather jacket. “What?” Steve asked, baffled.

“She’s wasted!” He exclaimed, his eyebrows shooting up quickly, causing Eddie to shrug, “She’s probably puking her guts out right now, she needs you.” Steve’s eyes narrowed; he couldn’t believe that Eddie would even think about leaving you alone in a condition like this.

“Gross, dude,” Eddie said, making a face as he cringed, causing Steve to roll his eyes.

“Real fuckin’ mature, Munson.”

“You drop her home, man, I’m too fuckin’ hammered for all of this.” He gave Steve’s shoulder another tight squeeze; this time Steve was sure his blood was boiling, his eyes darkening with each word Eddie spoke.

This asshole had the audacity to use him to try to date you, and he couldn’t even fucking treat you, right? Steve shook off his thoughts before he could do something he knew he would regret.

Eddie was his best friend, and he could never let his feelings for you get in the way of you actually being happy.

“Are you going to get a cab?” Steve asked, “Yeah,” Eddie muttered mindlessly.

“Then give me your jacket.” Steve’s tone was now cold, almost demanding, and his demeanor changing within seconds was throwing Eddie off,

“No fuckin’ way,” Eddie chuckled mockingly, he didn’t notice the serious gaze Steve holds.

“Dude, your house is five minutes away, you’ll be fine, just give me your jacket,” He demanded again.

“Why the fuck would I do that?” Eddie spat.

“Because you asshole, it’s the middle of February and Y/N is wearing a fucking dress, it’s the least you could do for leaving her like that.”

“Why don’t you give her yours?” Steve didn’t know how to control the rage coursing through his veins.

“Do you see me wearing a fucking jacket?” Eddie was sure he had never seen Steve like this, with those veins in his forehead visible as he could feel his fists clench. Eddie’s eyes widened, clearly taken aback by Steve’s bizarre behavior.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Eddie mumbled before taking off the jacket with a few huffs escaping from his lips.

“There, you happy, man?” Eddie hissed, almost tossing the jacket toward Steve, “Fucking ecstatic,” Steve replied with an angry smirk.

Steve sighed before he made his way to the bathroom. Not knowing what was waiting for him inside, he knocked on the door hesitantly and asked, “Y–you okay?” The shakiness in his voice was exposing him.

A faint ‘Yeah’ was all he heard before you unlocked the door.

And there you laid on the dirty bathroom tiles, your hair disheveled, make-up smudged, and you could barely get your head up from the toilet seat.

Steve’s heart sank, guilt settling in his insides again like an old friend. He knew he couldn’t always take care of you, and he knew that you’d be with Eddie soon, but he couldn’t help but feel the crushing weight of guilt when all of this could’ve been avoided if he was just there for you.

And his mind was still reeling about the fact that Eddie dared to leave you like this.

Would the fucker even be able to treat you right?

“Want me to help you?” He asked, hands itching to reach out and hold you, but you dismissed him like it was nothing, like he didn’t mean anything to you anymore, and it had only been an hour since Steve had learned that Eddie was into you.

“No,” Even when you were this messed up, you held onto your grudge, shutting out any feelings of understanding or empathy toward Steve, even though he was only trying to help you out.

“I can help, to, you know—hold your hair and stuff,” He stuttered, he had never been this nervous around you.

You flushed the toilet as you attempted to get up, “I’m not—I didn’t throw up,” Your words were slurred.

“If you… if you feel like throwing up, I can—”

“No!” You exclaimed a bit too loudly, throwing him a cold stare. “I’m just trying to help you, Y/N.” His tone sounded disappointed, but you could care less when he had acted like a jerk most of the night.

“I don’t need your help,” You snapped while flushing the toilet, trying to stand still, your head growing dizzier each time you moved.

Steve breathed a heavy sigh and said, “Here.” He ignored your protests as he helped you up, warm hands were tight around your waist. If you weren’t this embarrassingly drunk and a huge mess, you would’ve started getting your hopes up.

But not after today, not after he ignored you to be with Tammy Thompson all fucking night.

“I got it!” You spat, trying to free yourself from his hold. “Let me help, please.” This was the most genuine he had been tonight, his voice almost pleading as he threw you that pitiful look, and you hated it.

You hated being the one Steve pitied and not the one he pined after, but you swallowed your pride when you realized you couldn’t even walk properly.

You barely questioned everyone’s absence when your mind was filled with Steve.

And once he dragged you out of the bar, you couldn’t help the petty words that escaped your lips; you couldn’t stop them even if you wanted to.

“You can get back to your girlfriend now,” You muttered bitterly, your voice clear. There was venom in your tone, and your grudge was poison with the way it seeped into your words.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Steve sighed, and you lightly pushed him off of you as you stood still on your own.

“Does the name Tammy Thompson ring a bell?” You narrowed your eyes. You wish you could tape your mouth right now and stop yourself from spilling so much of your feelings to Steve.

“What does that have to do with anything, Y/N?” His tone remained cold now; your heart was in his hands, and he was squeezing it each time he distanced himself from you.

“You’re such a fucking hypocrite,” Each time you dismissed him, you unknowingly tore open the old wound in his heart, keeping it fresh.

“If—if you wanted to take care of me so badly, then why did you ignore me all fuckin’ night?” Your face heated with anger, and your tone was tinged with frustration.

“Should go back to fuckin’ blondie over there,” You muttered under your breath, avoiding eye contact with him, unable to conceal the bitterness you were holding onto.

“Oh my god,” The realization dawned on Steve at a crawl.

You were jealous of him.

“You are jealous,” Steve couldn’t help the annoying smile on his lips, much to your dismay. You were jealous of him, and as selfish as it was, it was amusing to him.

“What?” You snapped, eyes narrowing, “I’m not jealous—” The look Steve threw at you was enough to break you. “Jerk,” You mumbled under your breath. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, it dooooeees,” He said, dragging his words out to annoy you further, as he took a step closer to you, almost closing the distance that he had been keen on protecting the entire night.

He was frustrating, so fucking frustrating, spinning your head faster than all the booze in your system. You couldn’t help the way your eyes grew mellow when he looked at you like that, you wanted to take all of him in.

This entire day was beginning to grow tiring, from Eddie’s sudden interest in you to Steve’s emotional whiplash, and now, since you couldn’t keep your mouth shut for one goddamn second, he was aware of your unnecessary jealousy.

“I’m not doin’ this with you,” You slurred again, hands wrapping around yourself almost as an attempt to conceal yourself from him, he could see right through you, and it was making you feel things you were not ready for.

“W—where is Eddie?” Those were the worst three words that could come out of your mouth. Just when Steve was basking in the glory and the hope that you were jealous of him, you decided to bring up Eddie, and with just his name rolling off your lips, you were re-opening his wounds.

Why not him?

Why was it never Steve?

Steve gulped; physically, he wasn’t sure what step to take would be better, to put a distance between you and him or to put a distance between him and Eddie.

And even though he knew he would regret doing this like there’s no tomorrow, even though Eddie doesn’t fucking deserve this decency, or you, Steve decided that he can’t do this to his friend.

“At least he’ll take me home!” You exclaimed so confidently that Steve couldn’t help the dry chuckle that escaped his lips.

“Yeah, I’m sure he would.” Steve quipped, grinning. He was mocking you again, unaware of your growing frustrations.

“What the hell is your problem?” You narrowed your eyes. “Unlike you, he didn’t ignore me all night to be with his ex, and he gave me his jacket.” Steve chuckled at that, again, frustrating you more and more, each time he opened his mouth.

With an irritated frown, you shot a sharp glance at him and asked, “Is everything a fucking joke to you?”

“Do you enjoy making me upset?” You crossed your arms against your chest, “You don’t give a fuck about anyone but yourself!” You snapped, not even knowing know why you uttered those words, you knew better than anyone that Steve wasn’t selfish; he never once put himself in front of his friends, but you were aiming to hurt him, and he was ready to bite back now.

“You are so fucking ridiculous, I—I can’t do this with you,” You murmured dejectedly, not being able to help it when your voice cracked; he was so embedded in your brain that you couldn’t form coherent words with the space he took up in your mind.

“You have no idea what you’re even talking about,” He whispered, shaking his head. If only you knew.

“Did you actually stop to think about how shitty it makes me feel when you give me these stupid emotional whiplashes?” You asked, and if you dared to get closer to him, you might’ve lost the purpose of the argument, your gaze drooping down to his lips every few seconds.

Steve stared at you blankly; you were unable to make anything out of his expressions, he looked at you as if you never existed to him, on a fucking whim.

Your lips tremble, a telltale sign that you would break soon.

His no response spoke volumes to you, “Of course you didn't.” You gave him a dry chuckle, filled with bitterness, and turned on your heel to walk away from him.

The slight breeze of February air hit you harder than Steve’s words.

He sighed a heavy breath when he heard you gasp at the coldness, hand reaching out to your arm before he spun you to meet his gaze again,

“Watch it, Y/N.” The words slipped past his lips forcefully, his chest puffing down with each breath he took. He was so fucking close that one move from you would change everything.

The tension was palpable; unspoken words and emotions hung in the space between the two of you.

And there it was.

There were his emotions again, filling his gaze quicker than you realized. If you weren’t this shitfaced, you could possibly do something about the ever so slightly distance between you, your foreheads almost touching. But your mind was spinning with endless possibilities. “Or what?” You teased; maybe it wasn’t the right time to do so, but you wanted to push him, make him break, the same way he did to you.

How far was he willing to take it?

His grip on your arm tightened; it wasn’t harsh, but tight enough to send shivers down your spine. And you couldn’t determine a single thing he was thinking again, eyes locked with each other without a single word being spoken.

You could sense his mind wandering off to find you a proper answer, trying to pick his words carefully, but you didn’t want that.

You wanted to know what he was thinking—what was going through his mind when he looked at you like you meant something to him, like he was ready to risk it all.

It was momentarily, but you could see it all—the sudden flint of confidence that didn’t waver enough to be convincing.

It wasn’t long until he returned to the cold demeanor he had been reserving just for you. “No, you’re not fucking worth it,” He muttered, taking a step back before he bit the inside of his cheek—hard. The metallic taste of blood flooded his senses, but he could care less; if he hadn’t done it, he would’ve poured his heart out.

He would’ve risked it all just to see those sparks in your eyes, but with five words, he had managed to kill it, slitting all the possibilities with the sharpest knife he could find.

“W–what?” Your voice cracked, and you fucking hated it. You hated being this weak in front of him, with tears ready to spill every time you had an argument, even over the smallest things.

“Just–Fuck! Look at you,” He didn’t want to say it; he didn’t want to burn this bridge with you, but he knew he had to for his own sake and for you to be happy with Eddie.

“You—you’re all over the place, always relying on others to take care of you, just one fucking night I didn’t baby you…” He shook his head. “And you act like I’m fuckin’ insane for doing that!” His voice was calm and collected, and that was what was throwing you off. How could he relay your insecurities in front of you, crush your heart to pieces, and pretend as if what he was saying was okay?

You couldn’t help it when tears flooded your vision. You tried not to let them get to you, but the alcohol in your system was far too dizzying and hormonal to stop your emotions from flowing. You didn’t know why he decided to utter those words, but it hurt.

Each of the gazes you shared and each word that transpired, deepened the wound in your insides that you didn’t even know existed, your feelings were at the surface, and you were vulnerable at his expense.

But Steve didn’t care.

“I—I can’t believe you’d say that,” You whispered, blinking the tears away when you took a step back, the hurt subsiding when it transformed into rage. “Fuck you,” You spat, your words weren’t slurred this time, but your vision was blurry again, barely taking another look at him when you started to walk away.

And he didn’t call out after you; he didn’t even flinch.

You were all alone.

You let your emotions overtake you as you started sobbing, sniffling every once in a while as you tried to comfort yourself.

Eddie could drop you home, you tried to reassure yourself, you knew there was a payphone close to The Hideout, if you could just walk a few more minutes, you could just call him—but holy fuck, did your feet hurt. You cursed yourself for not listening to Nancy when she told you to wear more comfortable shoes.

You were wobbly now, tears pouring down your cheeks, your smudged mascara distorting your view further, and it was dark out, so fucking dark that it started to scare you.

Your mind reeled more and more, and your chest felt trapped with each shallow breath you took. Eddie would’ve never uttered those words to you, your angry mind decided, Eddie wouldn’t flirt with girls—his exes—in front of you.

Eddie would never give you this sort of emotional whiplash.

And most importantly, Eddie would never leave you like this.

You felt so tired, just wanting to sleep, but you knew you couldn’t turn back now. Your feet were aching, but you’d rather they blistered than see Steve again.

You sat on the ground, relief washing over you when you got rid of your shoes, and the dirty, cold concrete ground felt so comforting that you nuzzled into the leather jacket, arms wrapped around yourself to provide more warmth as you sniffled into it.

You’re not sure if you can ever be with Steve anymore.

Sure, you could still be friends because you did have many big, stupid fights—granted, none of them were like this; this was different.

This was the first big fight you had with him since you realized your feelings for him, and it hurt.

Steve was not who you thought he was.

He was never going to love you.

He only saw you as his friend, and right now, even that was questionable.

And there you were, pathetically pining after him while he was drooling all over other girls, chasing him down and making a mess of yourself just for him to leave you like this.

You sniffled again; Eddie would never, and he actually was interested in you.

God, how you wished he could find you now, take you home, and whisper sweet nothings into your ear as he tried to mend what Steve broke.

You knew it was selfish, but it was the only way.

Maybe if Eddie could make you forget him completely, he could remind you that you weren’t a mess and that you were perfect.

Your vision blurred again, hot tears were stinging your eyes, but the ground was so comfortable.

Steve was right, you were a mess, you were a huge fucking mess, and you were pathetic, but you didn’t care as you hugged yourself further, head falling into your lap as you let yourself fall more and more into the deep pit of despair.

And that’s the last thing you remembered.

You didn’t remember Steve running after you as he realized how much he fucked up; you don’t remember Steve seeing you curled up into a ball, almost falling asleep.

You don’t remember Steve lifting you up and carrying you before anything bad happened to you.

You don’t remember the apologies Steve muttered into your ear on the ride home, how he checked every few seconds to make sure you were okay, his hands never leaving yours as he wanted to punch himself for even putting you in a position like this.

You don’t remember Steve whispering sweet nothings into your ear when he tucks you in, and you don’t remember him almost staying till the morning to make sure you were okay and didn’t get sick.

The last thing you remember was the fight.

You woke up the next morning with a groan, and you were sure no painkiller was going to help the pounding in your head.

You couldn’t help but cringe when you looked in the mirror, your hair was an absolute mess, the top that adorned your neck was covered with alcohol stains, your make-up was smudged, and you only had one earring.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” You sighed, taking off the dirty clothes as you put on a comfy shirt, your room was as messy as you were, bag on the floor while its contents spilled out, and… a leather jacket?

Slowly but surely, last night’s events came to you in a blur. The last thing you remembered was the fight you had with Steve.

Both of you spewed some hurtful things at one another, and that’s the clearest you could remember it.

You examined the leather jacket sprawled over the floor, and your brows knitted together, Steve didn’t even have a jacket on last night; you remembered because Robin made fun of him for not bringing a jacket in February when Steve whined about being cold.

You read the tagline; E.M.

Oh god.

Was it… Eddie? Did he drop you off when you were embarrassingly drunk?

Was Eddie the one who took care of you the whole night while Steve threw you away like a piece of paper?

You remembered the hurtful things he said to you; your mind was too jumbled up to even recall the nice things he said to you afterward.

You knew you have to talk to him, mend your friendship, but all you could think about now was Eddie, how he took care of you, and how he was there for you.

That day you called him, and he told you in detail how wasted you were and how he had to carry you home. You made up with Steve afterward too, both of you muttering apologies to each other as you promised not to let stupid things get out of hand.

And that day, Eddie took you on your first date with him.

NOW

“Buckley, you mind ringing these up for me?” You beamed, throwing her an innocent smile, your eyes wandering off to Steve’s absence next to her.

You gave her the ‘Evil Dead II’ and ‘Dirty Dancing’ VHS tapes nonchalantly, waiting to ask her about Steve.

Robin’s eyebrows shot up, “What kind of a double-feature is this supposed to be, huh?”

“A very fun one,” You said with a slight smirk, handing her a couple of bills.

You scanned the store, he was nowhere to be seen, of fucking course. “Harrington running from me again?” You almost cursed yourself for saying that out loud, but you couldn’t help it, something snarky would’ve slipped out eventually.

You saw Robin almost freeze, her mouth hanging open as her brain short-circuited to find a quick answer.

“I—It’s fine,” You mumbled. “Just tell him I would really like to talk to him. Once his weird tantrum is over?” You commented; it was snarky again, but he deserved it.

Five days had passed since the party, and Steve had been avoiding you like the plague, not returning your phone calls, and sneaking out the back each time you visited Family Video, and it was driving you crazy.

Determined to talk to him, you spent the last few days re-evaluating everything. You wanted to ask him what the fuck he meant—was everything that led to you dating Eddie a lie?

And did Steve never think to tell you this, even once the two of you broke up? His audacity was pissing you off, more than ever now that he was avoiding you.

Then small things started coming back to you in a flash, like the drunken confession you made to him last week.

But you were still clueless about The Hideout. You racked your brain away, but you couldn’t remember it for the life of you. Even the fight with Steve was so vaguely burned into the back of your brain, you simply didn’t want to remember it, or the hurtful words he uttered to you that night.

You had decided to forgive and forget, had no intention of going back to that head space, until recently, when Steve decided to blurt out that he was the one in Hideout, leaving without explaining anything further.

You tried to fish it out of Robin, but she acted clueless, and you tried everything you could do to reach out to Steve, but it was useless.

So that only left you with one thing.

Eddie.

Eddie had told you the day after The Hideout incident that it was he who took you home, detailing everything that happened that night.

You were basically breathless by the time you made it to Eddie’s trailer, knocking on the door, until it hit you.

What the fuck were you doing? Knocking on Eddie’s door when he had no fucking clue what was happening, when he had no idea you and Steve had kissed.

When he had no idea that you knew.

You shook your head in embarrassment as you turned around, about to leave, coincidentally and to your dumb luck, that’s when Eddie had decided to open the door.

He stood speechless when he saw you, his eyes almost bulging out of his head. “Y/N?” He asked, tone barely audible.

“Hi.” You muttered, accepting Eddie’s invitation as he stood aside for you to enter, and you squeezed by him with a quick ‘thank you’

“Look, I know you’re wondering why the fuck your ex showed up at your door but—”

“Oh, don’t worry.” He interrupted

“I do have an idea,” He smirked slightly, causing you to throw him a confused look, you were about to open your mouth, ask a million questions, but he didn’t let you.

“I know everything,” He muttered, and you couldn’t decide his facial expressions. “Steve told me about all of it.”

“And I already told him there was no bad blood between me and you and that it was fine that you guys kissed—”

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

“What?!?” You exclaimed, not expecting Steve to babble about it to Eddie when he had been avoiding you.

“Look, honey, Steve was all blabbering and shit when he came to see me, tellin’ me all this shit about how much he liked you and how sorry he was,” Eddie said with a concerned look.

“And I told him it was all fine, Christ—when did we even date, like 2 years ago?” You didn’t answer him and he sighed.

“I always knew the two of you had something for each other, I mean, why’d you think I got so jealous anytime you guys hung out together alone? He was definitely—“” He rambled for what felt like minutes, and you were quick to interrupt it, eyes blinking rapidly as you tried to process what the fuck was going on.

“Stop!” You exclaimed, “That’s… uhm– good to know, but not what I came in here for,” You muttered, eyes wandering to the ground.

He threw you a quizzed look, brows knitted up together, “I–I wanted to ask you about something,” You gulped.

“Well, spill it out, sweetheart, you’re makin’ me all nervous and shit.” He gave you a dry chuckle.

“What–what exactly happened that day?” You knew he was going to ask what the fuck you were talking about, so you cut him off before he got a chance to speak.

“At The Hideout… Two years ago.” You could see Eddie almost panic visibly, he didn’t expect it, and did it really matter now, after everything?

“Shit… why won’t you ask Steve about all this?” He scratched his head, it was all awkward, you coming here, asking him something that was two years ago, Steve telling Eddie about the kiss while refusing to acknowledge you…

It was embarrassing, really, and with each passing minute, a rage fueled inside of you. Sick of the hiding, and the lies. You just wanted the truth, and for Steve to not run at the first inconvenience.

“I would, if he didn’t avoid me like a fucking child,” You spat under your breath, causing Eddie to chuckle. He shook his head again.

“Right, so… I’m assuming since it was two years ago, you won’t be mad at me, right?” He asked, an innocent look spreading over his face, almost fearing as he saw how angry you were at Steve.

You almost rolled your eyes, these two idiots were making your blood boil. “Just want the truth, Munson, then I’ll be gone, I promise.”

“Right!” He chuckled nervously before telling you everything that happened that night.

You called Eddie right after you found his jacket, blabbering like an idiot as you thanked him a million times. While Eddie had no fuckin’ clue what had happened, he was still trying to get over his own hangover, but he wasn’t going to completely shut you down, not when he wanted you this badly, not when you were in the grasp of his hands.

As soon as you hung up, promising him a date, he called Steve, and he didn’t even have to beg him to play along; Steve was just... okay with it.

Steve knew the moment Eddie told him about his little crush that the two of you had no chance and that Steve would only be a little thought in the back of your mind, while Eddie would be the first choice, because why wouldn’t he?

Why would you choose him over Eddie?

And with all the sudden information flooding your mind, you weren’t sure how to react, how to vent all these emotions running through your veins, so you did it the only way you knew how; anger.

You checked the clock; 10.08

Steve’s shift should’ve ended long ago by now, you barely mumbled a goodbye to Eddie when you left, mind focused on one thing.

Steve.

You arrived at his door with your lips tightening and your jaw clenching, you weren’t going to give up now; you were going to talk to him. Now or never.

You knocked on the door so hard that you were sure your knuckles were bruising, and Steve was baffled when he opened the door, mouth almost agape as he looked at the sight in front of him.

“You know what you are? A fucking coward,” You mumbled, not giving him a second to process anything as you shook your head.

“You are a selfish fucking coward! Do you think you can make decisions for other people? You think you can just take their choices away and pretend like everything is fucking fine!” Steve didn’t utter a word when you let it all out, your words meshing with each other, and you could feel your blood boiling each time you spoke, but it was… weirdly relieving.

All that pent up anger was finally coming out.

“And you told Eddie?!? You fucking talked to him but didn’t have the guts to even face me! Five days, five fucking days, I followed you around, you fucking jerk!” You spat, your eyes flashed with anger as your face came closer to him, he didn’t even flinch, eyeing you curiously, those deep honey glazed eyes were warming the more he looked at you.

And Oh God, was his gaze inviting, so warm, but you couldn’t soften up… not when you still had so much to say.

“Do you know how embarrassing it is for me? No—no… Fuck that! I don’t even give a fuck if it's embarrassing, I’ve been–I’ve been living a lie and you–it’s your fault…” You mumbled the last part, chest heaving, when your fiery gaze met his, he was itching to talk, and you could tell.

“That—that’s a bit dramatic don’t you think?” He muttered, causing your eyes to narrow, “Look why don’t we just go inside and have an adult conversation? No need for these tantrums—” And that hit a nerve.

“Don’t,” You muttered, closing your eyes, the rage bubbling up to the surface again, gnawing at your skin, waiting to welcome you.

“Don’t you fucking dare to tell me to have an ‘adult conversation’ when you’ve been avoiding me like the plague!” You exclaimed angrily, face heating with anger, Steve nodded, understandingly. He didn’t mean to sound like a jerk, he just wanted to talk to you. He had been debating what to do these last five days, and shutting you out during that was obviously stupid, but that’s how he handled everything, wallowing it all until he chewed his emotions, keeping them hidden.

“What was I supposed to do?” He asked, almost defeated, and it made you want to chuckle, he was sending you over the edge.

“Are you kidding me?” It wasn’t a question; it was stupid for Steve to even attempt to open his mouth.

“You could have talked to me!” You took a deep breath; your anger wasn’t going to help, and if you didn’t talk to Steve as soon as possible, your head might have exploded.

You sighed as Steve stood aside, leading you to the living room, and your anger subsided with each step you took. The familiarity of the house was engulfing you, and you wanted to scream.

What if Steve had told you this would change nothing?

What if this was it for the two of you?

Your head was swirling, and it hurt, both physically and emotionally. It was taking a toll on you and Steve could sense it.

“What—what really happened… that day?” You asked, voice barely audible as you avoided his gaze.

Steve sighed as he took a seat next to you on the couch, hand itching to lay on your thigh, squeeze it to make you feel comfortable, just so you would look at him, but he resisted it, hand flexing as he placed it between the two of you.

“You–you remember our fight?” He mumbled, causing you to nod. “We both said some stupid shit to each other—”

“Well, you started it—” You gazed up at him, and this time he threw you a look, causing you to close your mouth as if to signal him to continue.

“And—and you left… and the second you did, I just felt this horrible fucking pit in my stomach, I could never—I could never leave you like that,” His voice was shaking, hands flexing again as he inched closer to you.

“I found you on the street, Y/N, almost passed out, and I lost my goddamn mind for leaving you alone—even for a second, I ca—I can’t fucking imagine what I would even do if anything happened to one–one fucking strand of your hair—just the thought makes me sick to my stomach—Jesus.” He muttered, face still toward you as you could trace it now, the worried lines etched onto his forehead, a frown taking upon his usual plump lips, voice cracking as you could sense it, the utter worry and desperation in his voice.

You couldn’t open your mouth, words failing you as you opted out to hold his hand instead, a small gesture, but one that made Steve’s entire stiffness disappear. One touch from you warming him up immediately.

“I took you home as fast as I could—I tucked you in, made sure you didn’t get sick, and then I left.”

“Why?” You asked, meekly.

“Why did you let me believe it was him? Why did you ignore me that night?”

“It–it doesn’t matter now,” He mumbled, and your brows furrowed again, fury still locked up inside of you.

“It fucking does!” You snarled, insides burning with anticipation and anger.

“Stop being a fucking coward,” You yelled, you didn’t want to scream at his face, but he left you with no choice. If you wanted to talk to him, you had to get some things out of him, no matter how much it angered you.

“Just tell me, Steve, full transparency, I want it all out.”

Steve’s silence caused a groan out of you, “If you don’t, I’m gonna leave… for good,” You whispered.

You were bluffing; you weren’t going to go anywhere without getting some closure, but Steve didn’t know that, and he had never seen you this riled up, so he sighed when you got up.

“I didn’t want to lose you!” He got up after you, staring at your back for a full minute until you turned around to meet him, a quizzed look overtaking your features.

“What?”

“God! I wanted to—Shit. I wanted to tell you about how I felt, but then Eddie came and he told me all about how he had feelings for you, and, uh, I just panicked— so fucking hard. I knew you would have chosen him, and I had that rejection one too many fuckin’ times, and I—I knew I couldn’t handle it from you!” He exclaimed, breath ragged as his brown orbs looked at you with such sympathy that you wanted to drop everything and kiss him, tell him that he would always be your first choice.

“I knew you would choose him and—”

“I didn’t want to be a second choice again, Y/N, I was so fucking scared—” You shook your head.

“Steve you—god, you have no fucking clue about anything,” You chuckled dryly, interrupting him.

“When you ignored me for Tammy that night, when you told me that I wasn’t ‘worth it’ that’s when I decided to contain my feelings for you, I knew you didn’t like me for anything more than friends—I always thought we had a ‘will they won’t they’ kind of relationship but that night, confirmed it for me,” You looked away, almost ashamed, face burning up.

“I felt so fucking desperate—like you wanted to push me away like I was an idiot girl who was clinging onto you, and now everything is just so confusing that I don’t even know what is going on.” Your hands ran through your hair.

“But you were and will always be my first choice,” You didn’t mean to smile, but it just appeared, anger washing away. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you,” You muttered, and Steve’s entire demeanor changed, his body relaxing as he realized how much of an idiot he had been.

“What?” He asked, baffled, a small smile overtaking his lips before you could say another word.

“Yeah,” You murmured, taking a step closer to him,

“So… we’re both idiots, huh?” He asked, basking in the way you looked up at him, batting your eyelashes as your warm aura engulfed him.

“Hmmm… I’d say it’s more you than me,” You mumbled, scrunching your nose, as Steve huffed playfully, inching closer and closer to you. You didn’t know where this took the two of you, but your mind was so busy when he was standing this close to you.

One strand of his hair fell onto his forehead, and all you wanted to do was run your fingers through them, kiss every inch of his face, run your lips along his soft ones, feel his calloused hands on your curves, grabbing desperately, meek grunts leaving his lips, both of you breathless.

And that’s exactly what you did—without a care, you closed the distance between the two of you with an annoyed huff, fingers running through his shiny hair.

His hands were quick to land on your hips, grabbing them like he was afraid of you slipping away, once again. And it all felt so easy and familiar that you could feel your head spinning.

His lips brushed against yours softly. You didn’t want this moment to be over, wanting to cling to him forever. Everything he did made you feel foolish and insane, and you understood why being in love felt like losing your mind, again.

Steve groaned into your lips, kissing you harder, once, twice, his lips never fully letting go of you, and you didn’t know if it would ever be enough for you, utterly craving nothing but him.

Your mind was jelly at this point, everything was tangled together while the question of ‘What’s going to happen now?’ lingered in your mind. Did he still want you? Did he still want to be together? Why didn’t he just come to you after talking to Eddie?

You tried to shake them off, tried to focus on the way Steve’s hands stuck to your body, like they belonged there, and the way his lips moved along yours, like it had always been this way.

You wanted to continue, wanted so badly to not let this moment go, but the bickering voices in your head were too much, and you pulled away slowly. Steve almost groaned when he felt the absence of your lips. He blinked once, twice.

“Oh, fuck. Do that again.” He unintentionally let out, gaze filled with lust as his pupils were blown wide, and a small giggle left your lips. “You are an idiot,” You whispered, your gaze settling on him.

Was everything going to be okay?

How were you even going to manage to make this work?

And with that, your expression soured, “Steve,” You said seriously, causing him to look up at you with concern all over his face. “I don’t want to get hurt again.” You murmured, forehead touching his.

“I won’t hurt you, ever.” His gaze was intense, and it made you feel giddy, worries washing away in seconds. You don’t know how he fucking did it, but it worked.

And you trusted him like no one else.

You couldn’t help it when your lips twitched into a smile. “You promise?” You gushed.

“With all my heart, honey.” He whispered, taking a deep breath.

“You have no fuckin’ idea how long I’ve been waiting for this, dreaming about this...”

“I would never, ever do anything to hurt you.” He muttered, his hands tucking the strand of hair that was blocking him from placing messy kisses all over your face.

“I couldn’t handle losing you, not again,” He murmured before leaning in to press more kisses all over your soft lips.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

bonus scene: just for shits n giggles idk

“What movies did you get today?” He asked with a childish grin on his lips.

“If you weren’t avoiding me, you would’ve known, pretty boy.” You exclaimed dramatically, crossing your arms against your chest.

Pretty boy.

The only thing that stuck in Steve’s brain was that he was your pretty boy.

And this giddy feeling inside of him was never going to go away, he decided.

He huffed playfully before he grabbed your bag, causing you to gasp. “Let’s see…” He murmured as he tried to find the VHS tapes.

“Aha!” He exclaimed as he grabbed the two of them, turning the cover to see what movies you rented.

“Oh my god,” He murmured. “A double-feature? For us?” He couldn’t help the way his lips twitched into a smile, so warm that you wanted to bathe in the glory of making him this happy.

“Mhmm… First, Evil Dead II for me, and once Stevie gets scared, we’ll put on Dirty Dancing.” You give him a wink.

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” He groaned. “You are so fucking perfect, I’m gonna lose my mind.” He placed a kiss on your forehead.

another a/n: so this is a bit messy bc i had too many ideas and this is the best i could do to fit them all in, i hope this doesn't feel that disconnected from the first!! work has been kicking my ass lately so my mind is all mushed lmao!! feel free to leave ur feedback and pls comment, like or reblog to support me ily <33

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x y/n #steddie x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #stranger things imagines #stranger things fic #steve harrington #ex!eddie munson

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razzberriezz · 6 months

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Fashion Dreamer Tips & Tricks

Some stuff only I found that isn't mentioned or in-game at all or is easily missed as far as I'm aware? I hope it helps some of you guys out :) It is quite image-heavy under the cut, fair warning!!

Colour Matching (Item Creator) Pressing down on the left stick changes the display from mannequin to the item itself, but pressing it again will show whatever item you're creating along with whatever your muse is currently wearing.

So if you've gotten a custom coloured item from someone else, this is great for making items and accessories to match with it! And you don't have to waste 120k points trying to match colours by guesstimation instead like me :'))) Or maybe I'm just dumb because I knew how to zoom in and out, just not the display switching OTL

2. Showroom Configuration (is stupid) This is for the Happy Home Paradise players... Make sure that any mannequins or clothing you display in your showroom is actually accessible, because you cannot walk under ceiling decorations, even if they are lighting. I have no idea why. You also can't change the camera angle, so it'd be best not to put the door/panel decorations all in a row at the front, because then players can't see what you're even displaying (unless it's just like a mannequin in the middle surrounded by lockers... Idk)

Taking the time to plug my showroom again before I swap out the outfits for the fancier stuff I have >o< Find me at a8xv4JW3Am!

3. Muse Advisors There are at least 2 or 3 advisors who are present at the Muse Mirror in each Cocoon in rotation. (e.g. Noz and Iris in HOPE) They can not only suggest colours and unique makeup that you haven't obtained yet* (I've seen a look where your character gets like a Batman/Robin mask lol), but also give you their own! If the one whose look you want isn't there, you just have to quick-travel (press down on the right stick) to another Cocoon and back. Otherwise, you can just keep talking to them and backing out until their option shows up.

Before & After (Iris ver.)!

(*Unfortunately, they won't give you unique eye shines/reflections.)

4. NPCs I've just learnt that the NPCs you start with are most likely random. I've seen others start with NPCs I haven't even seen or heard of! You need to raise their friendship level until you get a special event that says 'Friend Introduction' - and even then, I think the NPC who appears next might be random (unconfirmed). This may make it quite a pain for those who want the unnatural skin colours, since I believe they are only unlockable via NPC friendship rank... So just go into solo mode and spam some outfits :')

5. Camera Angles and Idle Poses This one is a bit useless, but I didn't know about it until now so it's going in. Most of the time, I use the drone camera to take photos, but could never really fit fullbody photos - turns out, you need to angle the camera slightly downwards (have your character looking up) to be able to zoom out enough to fit your Muse's whole body in. If the camera angle is level with your Muse, you will never be able to get a fullbody picture. Who thought this would be a good idea???

Level angle and tilted angle - the level angle is already at the lowest it could go.

Additionally, waiting for a while will let your character have the time to perform some idle animations, some of which (I think) are not present in the poses option, even via NPC friendship rank. The downside is that you'll have to crop out some parts of the UI and the quality will be a little lower - however, that can be fixed using waifu2x (which I tend to use anyways for aesthetic posts lol).

Before & After using waifu2x!

Since the game is so new I thought this might be helpful to some who are also just starting out. If anything here is wrong, please let me know and I'll fix it as soon as possible!

#fashion dreamer #my.fashion.dreamer.posts #idk what else to tag so this is it for now

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qxldnya · 1 year

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TEASING

Jude Bellingham X fotballer!reader!fem

Wc: 300

Warning: sexual tension, touchy jude, idk let me know what else-

A/n: this is my first fic so feel free to give me constructive criticism <3

Jude couldn't help himself. It was as if you had him wrapped around your finger, you had him just as distracted as he had you even if it is his own fault.

In his defense, you looked fucking phenomenal in that training kit. Coach had called you and the rest of the team, to go through the game plan for the upcoming games at the world cup.

Jude just couldn't keep his eyes off you. He kept stealing glances when the coach would look away. It was just you and those gorgeous short shorts.

It had Jude feeling quite feral when he had joined your side during the meeting. He didn't know what to do with his hands once he got into your vicinity.

He can hear coach droning on, but his words have fallen on deaf ears. Jude slipped his hand around your waist slowly, pulling you comfortably close.

You can feel the warm radiating on his frame, leaning into his soft touch as you focused intently on coach's words.

Jude maneuvered behind you, wrapping surrounding you in his arms.

It's a rare act of public affection that does warn you a couple states from your fellow teamates.

Jude doesn't care, though. He has his chest pressed against your back, dipping his head just a little bit to get real close to your ear.

"Knees still tender?" He whispered with a smirk, adoring how you nearly choked on your air.

You knew exactly what he was referring to. You had complained all morning about how bruised your knees were, how raw they felt after being tackled around during practice.

Jude was teasing you, trying to spur a reaction from you. Heat filled your cheeks, danced over your skin and made your knees weak.

Your eyes darted up to coaches in front of you and your friends, hoping they wouldn't notice how flustered you were becoming.

You snapped your jaw shut, deciding to ignore Jude's comment and focus on the job at hand

If only you had realize that you were challenging him. In a matter of seconds, his lips are brushing against your ear delicately,"Are you ignoring me?"

He uttered so quietly for only you to hear.

"Surely, you wouldn't dare ignore me, you know that would drive me crazy, don't you love?"

His word prove to be true when you feel his hands fall down to your hips and grip them tightly. Jude has you pinned back against him casually, and you nearly whined when you felt his teeth teasingly drag over your lobe.

You melted against his touch, all thoughts flooding out of you because how can you focus when he's breathing down your neck?

" Ju..."You mumbled under your breath, but you don't get to finish whatever plea or flustered comment that was in your head because his grip leaves you.

It took a second for you to realize that coach was sternly glaring at Jude with a look that read stop it or so help me. He had cleared his throat to get both of your attention.

"Do I need to separate you two?" Coach questioned, and you felt like a school girl that just got caught talking in class.

"No, sir,"You blurted out anxiously, not wanting anymore attention on you. You heard snickering from the rest of the team while someone shouted

"Well on there Bellingham!" that made everyone break out in laughter. Jude can't help but chuckle at your immediate reaction. You felt your cheeks get all hot and palms all sweaty with widening eyes.

"I—I don't, we, it won't happen again."

"You aren't the problem, L/n," coach claimed, his eyes on Jude.

"We don't need to have a talk, do we?"

"Oh god, not the talk,"Grealish murmured from across the room."You do not want that, trust me."

"What talk?"Saka questioned,"I haven't gotten any talk, is this a football related talk? Has everyone gotten this talk?"

"Unfortunately,"Mason admitted, sharing an awkward glance.

" coach always seems to walk in at a bad time to be fair" Phil piped in.

"Oh my god, please stop,"You spoke, completely horrified that this had become the talk of the meeting.

"The talk cannot be that bad,"Jude replied, making you smack him lightly in the chest as a plead to not drag this on. He glanced down at you to see your soft eyes just begging for him to get you out of the center of attention.

"But that isn't the point, we should really focus." Coach looked at him with a warning glance,"We will talk about this," He commanded before returning to the debriefing.

Jude felt you relax against him, and he gently pressed a kiss to your temple before whispering ever so softly in your ear,"And we'll continue this later, Darling."

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham smut #trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold smut #football imagine #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham x fotballer reader #jude bellingham fic

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schrodingers-romy · 8 months

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My Angel of the Sea [Tomioka Giyuu x Reader]

Pairing: Tomioka Giyuu x AFAB!reader

Summary: After a mysterious ocean creature helps save you, you have the chance to save him in return. And then, after you get closer, you get the chance to 'help' him in another way...

Warnings: Near-drowning, and a few mentions of anxiety resulting from this. Non-explicit mention of injuries. Reader has AFAB anatomy referred to with fem terms, but no other gendered terms are used. Graphic smut (MDNI). Biting. PIV sex. Heat/rut sex. Oviposition (whatever the egg thing is idk). Breeding. Weird sea creature anatomy. Very sweet for what was supposed to just be smut.

Word Count: ~8,700

Notes: First post of my little event, Strange Lovers. Also serves as a submission for @monster-october-kny-2023! This ended up being way longer than I thought lol. Also editing your own smut is very embarrassing. Mdni banner template courtesy of @cafekistune

[Ao3 Link]

The impact with the surface of the freezing ocean shocked the breath out of your lungs, and you began to sink.

It hurt. The boat was tall, the deck elevated off of the water quite a distance. It had taken a monumental gust of wind to tip it and you enough to where you went flying. From that height, hitting the water felt like getting thrown down onto concrete. It was a wonder you were still conscious.

After impact, you sank like a stone. Through all the pain, breathlessness, and shock, you only had one clear thought: ‘why me?’

There wasn’t supposed to be a storm today; you were nearly to the shore of your home, barely a half hour’s ride away in fair weather. The storm was supposed to pass by after you were already curled up in your little seaside shack with a book. But as always, mother nature was vindictive in her unpredictability. It seemed strange to name a force so powerful and uncaring mother.

She certainly wasn’t being motherly towards you now.

The freezing ocean was less a mother’s embrace and more like that of death. Scarcely had you thrashed your way to the surface for a breath before a white-crested wave forced you back under. The sheer force of it disoriented you, making you spin around in a panic for the direction of air.

Your lungs burned as you kicked yourself upwards again. This time, an even bigger wave shoved you back down, before you could even finish gasping for air. Saltwater flooded your mouth and lungs instead of oxygen, and you started to drown.

It was so much more painful than you would have thought. Your lungs were silently screaming for air, but opening your mouth just brought in more water. Your limbs, aching also from strain, didn’t have the oxygen needed to push your body to safety.

Your vision began to spot black, and the pain began to give way to the numbness of unconsciousness.

Before you were completely gone, your brain fired its synapses a final time to grace you with the hallucination of an angel.

He had an unnaturally pale face, with eyes as placid and blue as the sea on calm days. His long black hair formed a spiky halo around his face, accented with the fluttery bluish fins he had in place of ears. One of his webbed hands seemed to reach towards you.

This water angel was the last image you saw before your mind slipped into darkness.

You awoke spluttering, coughing what felt like the entirety of the ocean out of your sore lungs.

You were dazed, but surprisingly…alive, for someone who was nearly drowned in her last memories.

You looked around frantically. You were beached like a whale on the sand. A familiar sand…

Whipping your head around (which wasn’t the best idea judging by how a thunderous headache made itself known as soon as you moved your head), you saw you were home. You had washed up on the beach right in front of your home.

But how? You had been sure your life was slipping away…and you were quite a way from this shore when the storm threw you overboard. There was no way the sea had just washed you here with the tides…right?

But you had no other rational explanation to why you were here, alive, if a little battered and sore. It was simply a miracle.

But in the back of your mind, your hallucination of the water angel lingered.

He never left your mind.

Even though you knew he was just a figment of your oxygen starved brain, you found yourself thinking of him constantly during the next few days. Small scraps of paper filled with scratchy, unfinished sketches floated around your home. Each one had him on it; some were attempts at a full figure, but others were just a singular feature. None of them were right. Your hand wielding a pencil was insufficient to render the creature you saw so clearly in your mind’s eye.

Other affects of your near-death experience also lingered.

You hadn’t been back down to the beach since you had washed up there. Once you awoke, you stumbled your way up to your little cabin without looking back to the sea once. You had spent the next few days resolutely holed up in your home, nursing your injured body and mind. The cold shakes and soreness took warm liquids and time to cure, but they did improve. Your mind was another story.

You just couldn’t bring yourself to even look at the ocean then. You knew, logically, that it was a force of nature with no feelings or intentions, but you couldn’t help but feel betrayed. You loved the sea, choosing a remote place just a short walk to the water because you wished to walk the beach every morning just to watch it. You wanted to be able to look out your window and see it. You wanted to be alone, isolated, with it as your only companion. But this companion, this friend your imagination made of the water, didn’t exist. It cared not for you, it had no feelings to return. Still, it was a bitter blow to learn the thing you cared for so much could have so easily been your end.

But you knew you had to overcome this.

Maybe, you thought, if you just went down to the beach again…even if you had to make yourself go. Seeing it again would remind you of your love for it, and perhaps also erase thought of the water angel from your mind.

You took advantage of this temporary burst of courage. Slipping your shoes and a sweater on, you stomped out your way out the door and onto the path to the shore.

You couldn’t yet raise your gaze, keeping it trained on the path you stiffly walked down. You could hear the gentle lapping of the waves; the sea was once more calmed, the beast inside temporarily sated after the last big storm.

Once you could see nothing but sand surrounding your shoes, you stopped. With a deep breath in, you looked up.

It…was just as you remembered. Smooth, gradient blue marred only by a few patches of white foam on the crests of gentle waves. It was…beautiful, and you felt calm once more. This wasn’t the harsh sea of your nightmare, but the same sea you had seen every day for forever now. This was normal. You were fine.

Everything was normal, except for the thing on the rock.

It had taken you a second to notice it; the rock in question was close to the shore, but a bit to the left of your vision. You waded out sometimes and sat on it, when the tide was low and the ocean quiet. It made you feel like you were sitting atop the water.

You weren’t on the rock now, yet it was still occupied. At first you thought it was a normal man, but then…you froze.

It was him.

Your water angel, that is. Clear and shining in the light of day.

Seeing him again, you realized what he was. Not an angel, not really, but some sort of sea creature. Half of his body was passable human, but at his waist skin faded into dark blue iridescent scales, covering a fish-like tail. Patches of scales decorated his upper body also, and the webs between his fingers were obvious, as were the gill-slits on his neck.

He was acreature of myth, never something you thought was real…but there he was. Looking right at you.

Your eyes were locked with his. His looked even more vivid above the surface, pupils slitted from the bright sun. They seemed to bore into you.

Unconsciously, you took a step towards him. This seemed to break whatever sort of spell was created when your gazes met, because he flinched back slightly, and slipped back into the water.

You ran over to the rock, uncaring of the seawater soaking your shoes. But he was gone in a flicker of blue.

Your water angel wasn’t something made up by your dying mind. He was real, and you knew it now.

In direct contrast to how you spent the last few days, the next week of your life was spent almost entirely by the water’s side.

Now that you knew your water angel was real, you were desperate to see him again. You had to know about him; what he was, exactly, and why in the world would he bother to save you.

You knew it was him who saved you, not a miracle of the tide. But you just didn’t know why.

So, you spent almost all your time sitting on the beach, watching the water. The only times you went back to your house were to prepare food or sleep; even then, you sometimes fell asleep on the sand instead of your own bed. Every time you closed your eyes, you could see him plastered on your eyelids, a ghostly figure printed on the blackness.

On the eve of the seventh day, you had to return to your cabin more than previous days. It wasn’t particularly cold out, but the wind was chilly and harsh, so you had to return for a blanket and to refill your thermos with warm drinks. The sky turned steely gray, and the sea mirrored it in color. Eventually, your anxiety at seeing the increasingly large waves won out against your dedication to seeing the water angel again. It was going to storm soon, and nothing was going to keep you out in it. Not again. You couldn’t risk it again, especially since it appeared your water angel wouldn’t be here to save you this time.

So, reluctantly, you bundled yourself up in your blanket, grabbed the basket filled with your things, and trudged back up away from the churning dark water and towards your house.

The storm rolled in quickly after that, and you were grateful you decided to move when you did. The sky was completely black outside; you couldn’t see the water at all. You couldn’t see anything. The only information you had about the outside storm was from sound; the howling of the wind, the vicious sound of rain lashing against your windows, and the faint crashing of the sea in the distance.

Your sleep was fitful that night. You would like to blame it on the noise of the storm, but that wouldn’t be entirely true. Because when you finally were able to fall asleep, all you could see were the deep eyes of your water angel, widened in something that looked like…fear.

The sun was scarcely revealed by the clearing thunderclouds before you were up and running down to the beach.

The light glittered on the ocean, highlighting its calm cerulean surface. As if that same ocean wasn’t tearing at the shore mere hours ago in the middle of the storm.

The beach was covered in driftwood and drying seaweed, remnants of what the turbulent waves cast up the night before. You picked your way across the debris, making your way closer to the water’s edge. It was a bit of a futile task; you hadn’t seen your water angel when you scanned the ocean earlier, and it wasn’t as if getting a few feet closer to the water was going to make any difference. Yet you still kept walking towards the ocean.

It was only when you were nearly stepping into the sea that you saw it. A flicker of blue in amongst the piles of wood.

Could it be?...

It was likely it was just a rock or a piece of sea glass, but you had to check. So, you went to take a closer look.

Up close, it was clear that what you saw was a patch of blue scales, buried under a pile of wood and matted seaweed. Your heart was beating a staccato rhythm in your chest. It could be just a fish, you told yourself. It might not be him.

But you worked quickly in removing the debris all the same. The seaweed was slimy and unpleasant feeling against your hands, but any thoughts of disgust flew out of your head when you saw what you had uncovered.

It was him. Your water angel.

Spread out on the damp sand, he looked considerably less ethereal than the night you met. He was rag-dolled across the ground in what looked to be an uncomfortable position. His eyes were closed, as if he was simply sleeping; but the dried blood painting half of his face told a different story.

You kneeled next to him, uncaring of the sand on your clothes. Up close, it was clear he was still alive; his chest rose and fell, if shallowly. Hesitantly, you reached out to touch his head. His hair was soft, even when dry and tangled, but you were much more concerned with looking for the source of the blood.

It appeared to be coming from a gash on his head, mostly hidden by his hair. It was nasty, but it wasn’t bleeding anymore. From just looking over him, he didn’t seem to have any other injuries, other than minor scrapes and bruises, so it was likely he had hit his head on something and been knocked unconscious.

You…weren’t entirely sure what to do, but there was no way you were just leaving him here. He could clearly breath out of the water, but he was an ocean creature, so he probably shouldn’t be kept out of the water too long, lest his skin…or scales… dry out. And it couldn’t hurt to clean the gash on his head, either.

Mind made up; you stalked off to seek supplies.

You made your way back with a garden cart full of first aid supplies and a rough plan you had cooked up on the walk. The first order of business would be to at least clean his wounds. Typically, you would bandage them as well, but…that would require keeping the bandages dry. And that would be virtually impossible while also trying to keep his skin from drying out, so a simple cleaning it was. The second step would be to somehow get him into the garden cart and haul him off to one of the larger tide pools a little farther down the shore. Your first thought was to bring him to your home and place him in your bathtub, so you could monitor him, but that wouldn’t work. Though his torso was about average sized for a human man, his tail made him somewhere around seven feet from the top of his head to the trailing tips of his tailfins. There was no way you could fit him comfortably in the tub, and you weren’t sure about putting a sea creature in a bathtub with fresh water. From what little you knew of fish, which he about half resembled, it could be deadly to shift the salinity of the water they were in. You could be wrong, but you didn’t want to take any chances. With the tidepool, it would be filled with the very same salt water you saw him swim in before, but even at high tide it would be shallow and calm.

Plan in place, it was now just executing it.

You started with his head wound first. First, you rubbed the dried blood off his face, revealing his delicate visage. You still stood by your first assessment of him; he did look angelic. The perfect symmetry of his face, the elegant line of his nose and the sooty brush of his eyelashes…it was all so well put together it became inhuman. His skin was cool and slightly clammy to the touch, and you wondered if that’s what it always felt like. The fins on the side of his face felt surprisingly delicate, and you made sure to be extra careful in wiping them clean. His hair was soft, a lot softer than you would have assumed; your hair always turned unpleasantly crunchy after drying from salt water.

You did your best to clean the dried blood from his skin and detangle it from his hair. There was still some left, around the area of the gash, but you were too nervous to scrub at it lest the scab come off and continue bleeding again.

You moved on to the rest of his body. There wasn’t much you could do about the bruises, but you could at least wipe down the scrapes and cuts. The rest of his skin felt similarly clammy, but the patches of scales littering his body were smooth and dry. They were small and scattered, until about his waist level, where they slowly faded into larger and harder scales at his tail. Even just lightly brushing down his body, you could feel the muscle beneath skin and scales. He must be a powerful swimmer, you mused.

Then you were faced with what would be your most difficult task yet: getting him into the cart.

You didn’t consider yourself a weak person, but there was a clear difference between being weak and not being able to lift a probably almost two-hundred-pound sea creature gently into a rickety cart.

You sighed. This would be quite an ordeal.

It took the better part of an hour, but finally he was settled into the tide pool. He looked perfectly angelic floating a few inches beneath the water’s surface, head cushioned on a seaweed-covered rock while his hair floated out in a halo around him. He looked much better when he was clean of blood and back under the water. Unfortunately, the same could not be said of you.

You were caked with sand, from kneeling to tend to his wounds and from flailing around trying to lift him. You were also soaked from sea water and no small amount of sweat. Overall, you were a complete mess in desperate need of a shower. However reluctant you were to simply leave your water angel to float in his pool, you needed to clean yourself. And to get some food.

Your eyes lingered on the creature once more before you left. Maybe you could make yourself another picnic. And maybe you should bring some extra food for him. You probably couldn’t go wrong with some fish, right?

It was strange sitting next to the creature while you ate your meal. It felt like sitting beside a hospital bed waiting for a coma patient to wake up, and a little bit like having lunch by a corpse. Not exactly the most appetizing, but your struggles getting him over into the tide pool had generated enough hunger to override the slight morbidity.

You began to wonder if you would need to bring out a blanket and camp out overnight, because who knew when your creature would wake up. Or even if he would at all, you thought, and the idea sent a strange pang through your chest.

Your gaze drifted to the sand. You didn’t know him at all, and yet your life was connected to his. And if he lived, his to yours.

Your musings were broken by a splashing noise.

The creature was upright now, partially. He was facing you, head and shoulders above the water and webbed hands gripping the rock. His wide blue eyes bored into yours. He looked stunned; there was also an edge of fear in his gaze.

He was finally awake.

You were the first to break the silent staring contest you both were stuck in ever since he awoke.

“Hi,” you said, breathless. “Thank you for saving me. It was you, right?”

He tilted his head to the side slightly, and you didn’t know if this was an acknowledgement of what you’re saying or not.

You continued anyway. “I found you on the beach. I…didn’t really know what to do, so I cleaned you off and brought you here, so you would hopefully be safer than where you were.”

His face was still blank as he watched yours. Finally, he reached one pale hand out towards you, like he was asking for something. You thought he was asking for some of the fish you brought out for him, and moved to give it to him. That wasn’t the right answer, apparently, as he let out a low hissing sound that caused you to startle and drop the food into the sand.

He held his hand out again, looking at you expectantly. You didn’t have anything else you could hand him, so you just looked at him in confusion.

He let out another noise, this one more of a low coaxing churr. His eyes glanced down towards your hand, then back up to your face. He repeated the churr.

Oh, you realized. He wanted your hand. You’re a bit hesitant, because the black claws on the tips of his fingers look wickedly sharp. But he looked so earnest…so you placed your hand in his.

You immediately regretted it.

Quick as lightning, he used his iron grip on your hand to yank you forward, until you tumbled into the tidal pool with him.

Your face went under the water for what was probably only a fraction of a second, but it was enough to ratchet your heartrate up to a dangerous speed. You had still not completely forgotten drowning.

Luckily for you, the creature took mercy on you and hauled you up until you were sitting up, half out of the water and balanced on the thick width of his tail. Still, you were once again soaking and spluttering, and you tried to yank your hand out of his grip again.

“What was that!?” you screeched at him, not expecting an answer.

“I’m sorry.”

You were left gaping at him. His mouth hadn’t opened at all, but you heard a voice, clear as crystal. “…What?”

“I’m sorry for pulling you into the water like that. I didn’t know how to get you into the water with me otherwise…” He let go of your hand, and moved that arm to rest behind your back, supporting you so you didn’t tumble back into the water. “You see, I can only speak to you when you are in the same water as me. I wanted to thank you. For taking me off of the beach, and for making sure I was safer. I probably would have been fine, but…it was nice. Of you. To do that. So thank you.”

Your mouth was dry. You had no idea what you were supposed to do or say now. “It was nothing. I just couldn’t stand to leave you there if I could help it. Anyway, it was the least I could do in return for you saving me, even if I don’t know why you did it.”

“You were scared. I could feel it. You were scared, and you were dying. It’s as you said before – I couldn’t leave you there if I could help it.” He sounded so earnest, and all of a sudden you were so so grateful that he happened to be there at the right moment to help you.

Overwhelmed, you threw your arms around his neck and pulled him into a hug. “Thank you for saving my life.”

He was stiff and cold under you, arms hovering awkwardly behind your back like he didn’t know what to do with them. “Ah…you’re welcome.” One hand came down to gently pat you on the back. You found yourself smiling at his small attempt at comforting you.

You pulled back, noticing how he shivered lightly at the brush of your fingertips on his shoulders as your arms retreated.

Your mood sunk a bit when your attention dropped back to the light scrapes and bruises decorating his skin, multicolored splatters on the pale canvas of his torso. “I’m sorry, did I hurt you? When I hugged you? I should have been gentler, you’re injured still –”

“It’s okay,” he said, placatingly. “I barely feel them.”

You pursed your lips together. “What about your head?”

At this, he winced. “Sore.”

“What even happened to you?”

He broke eye contact with you, for the first time. His face was still blank, but you thought you could see a flicker of something akin to embarrassment in the tidal depths of his blue eyes. “I got caught up in the storm…I should have gone farther out to deeper water, but I didn’t think about it. I’m not used to the shallows. The last thing I remember was getting swept up in a wave, and then I woke up here. I think I must have hit my head on a rock.”

Your lips tilted down even further, now a full frown. “Why were you in the shallows, then, if you aren’t used to them? I thought fish species typically stayed around the same ocean depth their whole lives?” It took you a second to realize what you said, and then you could feel yourself flush. “I mean I wasn’t comparing you to a fish! You’re clearly much more advanced than that! Much smarter. And better. Um.”

He seemed amused by your floundering. “It’s okay. I know what you meant; I’m not offended. I’m glad you think I’m better than a fish.”

You realized he was teasing you, if lightly, and you felt yourself flush even more. “Well, Mr. Better-than-Fish, what were you doing in the shallows?”

He broke eye contact again. He was embarrassed, it was clearer to you now. “…I wanted to check on you. To make sure you were alive.” He paused, drawing his eyes back from the horizon to your face. “You weren’t on the beach anymore, but I couldn’t see you for several days. I didn’t know if you lived somewhere else, and had already gone home, or if something had happened to you. I was hoping to see you on the beach again, just so I would know you were safe. And then I did see you. But I never meant for you to see me again.”

“Why did you stick around?” you said softly. “You saw me. You could have left then, and I would have never seen you again.”

“Maybe I liked seeing you. Maybe I liked watching you look for me, every day.”

Your breath hitched. “You could have come to me before now.”

“My kind aren’t supposed to interact with humans.”

“Your kind?”

“Mer, I suppose, is what humans call us.”

Ah. That makes sense, you thought. Mer. “I thought of you as an angel. A water angel.”

“Why?” He asked. There was the lightest dusting of cherry-blossom pink over the tops of his cheekbones.

“Because you appeared to me when I was on the brink of death.” You paused, debating on whether or not you should elaborate. “And because you were beautiful. Are beautiful.”

The pink on his cheeks deepened to a shade of rose. He was, in fact, still beautiful. Especially with that blush. You were glad you had chosen to speak your mind, if only so you got to see his cheeks darkening prettily like that.

“Sorry, I don’t think I ever introduced myself,” you said, sheepishly. You told him your name.

He repeated it, and you felt a tingle go down your spine at hearing it in his voice. “My name is Giyuu.”

“Giyuu.” You repeated. “Well, it’s nice to finally meet you, Giyuu.”

He gave you a small smile. “Likewise.”

Giyuu then turned, looking back out into the sea. “I suppose I should go now that I’m awake.”

A bolt of fear went through you, more severe than you ever would have expected. You found you couldn’t bear the thought of letting him go and possibly never seeing him again; not after you had just found him. “You should stay here,” you blurted out. “To heal, I mean. I can bring you food, and whatever you need. But you need rest.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, hesitantly. “I don’t want to cause you trouble.” A flicker of what almost looked like relief flashed through his eyes. Maybe he also did not want to leave you. This was the same Giyuu who stuck lingered for days just to watch you…perhaps he really did wish to spend more time with you. You could only hope he felt a sliver of the desire to remain as you felt to keep him with you.

“Positive.”

“Okay,” he replied softly.

The rest of your next week was spent with Giyuu. Every day, you would wake up, prepare breakfast for the both of you, and set off towards the tidal pool.

You would arrive to him doing slow laps around the pool; he would immediately swim over to the edge of the water to greet you, his ebony hair dripping water down his shoulders and across his torso. He didn’t ever pull you into the water anymore, and instead you would remove your shoes and socks and dangle your feet into the water while the rest of you stayed safe and dry on the rocks. And the two of you would just eat, and talk.

You would only really leave him to go retrieve more food, get a few restless hours of sleep, or to get human objects to bring down and show him. A majority of the time you spent soaking in his presence; your feet were almost permanently pruned at this point, but you wanted to hear him speak, so at least one limb was partially submerged at all times.

Likewise, he would never be anywhere else; when you were gone, you assumed he slept and swam in circles around the pool, but he abandoned whatever he was doing the second you showed up to talk with you.

You talked about anything and everything under the sun. You did not feel any reluctance in telling him all about your life, more than you think you’ve ever told one person. He was fascinated not just by the human world you described, but with you. You had never talked so much about yourself, but you didn’t feel self-conscious. Even talking about your greatest regrets, your deepest anxieties and fears…you found yourself spilling them to him and receiving soft reassurances in return. Even when he was awkward, and clearly didn’t know what to say, he tried his best, and he was earnest in his attempts to make you feel better. That alone was always enough to lift your mood.

Of course, you asked him about his life as well. You learned about what life was like as a mer, and what his family was like, before their passing. He told you about the other mer he met later on, about how they weren’t cruel to him, but they weren’t always kind, either. He said it was his fault, simply because he was hard to talk to. He confessed to you that he believed they all hated him, even though he did not want them too. He just didn’t know how to get close to anyone, not anymore. He even told you, in the softest of whispers, how he wondered sometimes if everyone hated him, and he would never again have the kind of love that he had with his family. You tried your best to console him, telling him you couldn’t imagine anyone hating him. “And if they do,” you added, “Which I’m sure they don’t, you always have me.”

He gave you another one of his small, but genuine, smiles, and replied, “Maybe I should just stay here with you forever.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” you said, and the subject was dropped. But you didn’t forget it. You only hoped that he was genuine…because you truly wouldn’t mind him staying by you forever.

But deep in your heart, you knew he couldn’t stay in that small pool indefinitely. You were already sure he was completely healed; most of his scrapes had faded to white lines by now, and the bruises were gone. Even the gash on his head was more than halfway healed, and he didn’t give any indication of having headaches or anything of the sort. And you saw him looking out, into the ocean…he needed the space.

You would just savor the time you did have; savor the talks, savor the sight of his elegant face covered in rice crumbs from messily eating the sushi you provided him, savor the sight of his powerful body gliding through the water effortlessly. You would make the most of your time before his inevitable departure; you would make enough memories with him to last you his impending absence.

It only took until you were used to your new routine for something drastic to occur.

You began your day as normal, making the short trip down to the tidal pools with a spring in your step. You had made a new type of food for Giyuu to try, and you were excited to see his reaction. You noticed that your overall mood had improved ever since he became a regular fixture in your life. Maybe you were lonelier than you thought, living in your remote little cabin by the sea.

However, once you arrived, you were greeted with a seemingly empty pool. No sign of Giyuu anywhere.

Your hands tightened on your picnic basket. Could he have slipped back out into the sea overnight? There was quite the expanse of rocks separating the pool from the main body of the sea, but it could be possible… You just didn’t know why he would leave you without even a goodbye.

Your heart clenched uncomfortably in your chest. Perhaps he really didn’t care for you as much as he seemed to…or as much as you cared for him. Perhaps he just needed the food, and had to keep the one giving it to him happy…

You crept closer to the pool, peering in from the edge. Finally, you saw something.

You exhaled in relief, shoulders untensing. He hadn’t left; instead, he was lying on the bottom of the pool. At first you thought he was sleeping, but his eyes were open, and he was flicking his tail back and forth like he couldn’t get comfortable.

You sat down, setting your basket aside. You gently patted the surface of the water a few times, creating small ripples that echoed out from where your hand touched. You saw Giyuu freeze suddenly.

In a second, his head was poking up over the water. Only his head breached the water, however, and he remained outside of reach from where you sat on the rocks.

Not only was his behavior that day strange, but he looked…sick. His face was flushed red, as if he was fevered, and his eyes were blown wide. He was breathing heavily as well, too heavily for how little he was moving.

“Are you okay?” you asked, brows furrowed.

He nodded jerkily, obviously lying. “I’m fine. You should just go back up to your cabin.”

“No!” you said, incredulously. “You look sick. I’m not leaving you here when something is obviously wrong.”

He let out a low rasping sound, almost a growl, startling you. You had never heard anything like that from him…it was deep, aggressive, and animal.

“No. You need to leave. Now.”

You scowled. “I refuse. Tell me what’s wrong.”

He dove back under the water in lieu of replying.

“Hey!” you yelled. Normally, you wouldn’t push him if he said he wanted space. But it was clear that something was wrong with him, and he was hiding it from you. What if you could help, and things just got worse because he was too stubborn to get your help?

You stood up, and made to start wading deeper into the pool, uncaring about how your clothes were getting soaked. If he was going to be like that, you would just have to chase him down.

It wasn’t the most well-thought-out plan; he was a much better and faster swimmer than you, built for the water while you were built for dry terrain. The pool wasn’t large, but it was big enough for Giyuu to swim around comfortably, meaning he could feasibly stay out of your reach by just swimming away. He could also stay under the water indefinitely, a skill you sadly lacked. It didn’t help that you were still hesitant to submerge yourself, your mind still lingering on its vivid memories of drowning.

Yet you didn’t think about any of this, your mind clouded with annoyance, and more prominently, worry.

You were nearly all the way submerged. The water was lapping gently at the dip of your collar bone, and your heartbeat had kicked up against your will. Your breaths were shallower than normal, dormant anxiety forming iron bands around your lungs, but you pushed past it. You were in no danger; there were no waves, the water wasn’t deep, and you were a reasonably competent swimmer. You were just about to dive into the water when he reappeared.

Unlike before, this time he was close. Close enough for your slightly gasping breaths to shift his wet hair. Up close, his condition seemed even more severe. His eyes were nearly all black now, deep blue covered by the spreading inkblots of his pupils. He was still red and panting, mouth open, revealing long, needle-like teeth.

“Why don’t you just leave?!” he said. His voice was deeper than usual, rough. You could hear a low growl starting up in his chest again, so low you could almost feel it through the water. “Don’t you understand how hard you’re making this for me? I’m trying so hard…”

“What are you talking about?” you asked, almost pleadingly. “I don’t understand. You just look like you’re in pain. You can’t expect me to ignore that!”

He bared his teeth, growling getting louder. “I’m not sick. I’m not hurt. But you need to leave. So you don’t get hurt. So I don’t hurt you.”

Your gaze softened. “Oh, Giyuu…I trust you. You wouldn’t hurt me. I just want to help you. Let me help you.” Impulsively, you reached one hand out to graze your fingers over his cheek.

He let out a full-body shudder at your touch, eyes slipping shut. When he reopened them, there was something dark in their depths.

“Do you really want to know what’s wrong with me?” Deceptively strong hands grabbed onto your waist, pulling you until your body was flush with his. You let out a gasp.

Through your wet clothes, you could feel the ridges of his muscles, the light pinch of his claws on your hips…and something else, against your front. Something large, and stiff, pressed between your bodies.

Your breath hitched. Was that…?

“I don’t think I told you before…” he purred, “But Mer have mating seasons…where all we want to do is fuck…and breed. Normally, I would just hide away, ride it out on my own…But then you had to come here, tempting me. How am I supposed to resist such a lovely creature bringing me food…taking care of me…acting like they want to be my mate? Offering to ‘help me’ with my rut? Don’t you realize what you do to me, baby?” He pulled you close again, grinding against your stomach almost unconsciously.

You could not even speak, only letting out a small squeaking noise as he rubbed against you. Mate? Breed? You knew he wasn’t human, but this…you should have been repulsed, or at the very least offput by this information. Instead, you could feel liquid heat pooling in your abdomen like molten lava.

His hands flexed on your hips, claws ripping through your clothes and scratching your bare skin. Then he let you go, leaving you to quickly flounder to keep your face above water. He looked like it physically hurt him to tear himself away from you, teeth clenching and muscles flexing as he hovered an arm’s length away from you.

“You need to leave if you don’t want this,” he said, panting heavily. “Because I won’t be able to hold myself back if you stay.”

The obvious answer was to take the chance and run. To not agree to get fucked by a sea creature. Go back and hide in your cabin until this was all over, and then continue as you were until Giyuu inevitably left you and all of this faded away like a dream.

And yet…he was beautiful. Ethereal, strong, and even caring…the thought of being bred by him was intoxicating.

You didn’t leave. “Fuck me,” you said, voice a little shaky, yet confident in your decision.

With those two words, he was on you.

Giyuu’s claws were back, this time ripping your clothes right off you. Soon, you both were surrounded by a halo of floating fabric scraps; even your underwear was not spared.

Divested of this one last barrier between you, hands on your hips yanked you back against him. He resumed grinding on you, frantically; you couldn’t see much of him because of the water, but you could feel him. His cock was thick, with ridges running along the length of it; you couldn’t get a good judge of his length with his movements, but you knew it would reach deep inside of you.

He wasn’t providing you any sort of real stimulation, humping your body like a dog in heat but missing where you were hottest. The water was disguising the wetness that you knew would otherwise be dripping down your thighs. He hadn’t even done anything, but you were more aroused than you could ever remember being, just hearing his panting in your ear as he chased his own pleasure, feeling the strange clicking, purring sound vibrating in his chest.

But it wasn’t enough for him.

He let go of your waist just to swim under you and hook his arms under your knees, lifting you up out of the water only to pull you back down so your exposed pussy rubbed directly against his cock.

You let out an embarrassing whine as you felt the ridges on his dick slide against your clit. You threw your arms around his neck to grip on his hair, pulling a light rolling growl out of him.

He ground against you a few times, fucking his cock between the swollen folds of your labia. You couldn’t hold back your own noises when you felt him nudge against the little nub at the apex of your sex, sending little electric jolts of pleasure up your spine.

And then the pointed tip of his cock caught against your entrance.

Giyuu froze for a second, wide, black eyes gazing into yours as you panted into each other’s mouths. You became hyper-aware of every sensation. You could feel the flutter of his gills tickling your forearms; the sensation of his damp hair tangled up in between your clenched hands; his webbed hands braced on your back, claws definitely leaving thin scratch mark in your flesh.

And then your focus was drawn back to a single point as he thrust his cock fully into your soaking pussy.

You let out a shriek. You weren’t exaggerating about his size earlier; you felt completely split open. Your poor cunt was trying valiantly to clench around him, but he had you gaping so much you couldn’t do more than lightly flutter your inner walls around his length. He was long, reaching up all the way to prod at the entrance of your womb. You could have sworn you could taste him in your throat, he was so deep.

He let out his own moan. “I’m so deep in you baby,” he said, almost deliriously. “I can feel it--uh--can’t you? I’m filling up your whole pussy.”

You moaned. “Yesss…can barely fit you…so big…”

He thrust into you, slowly, only once, like he was trying to get you used to it. You could almost count all of the strange ridges lining his cock as they ground against every sensitive spot inside of you, making you let out another gush of fluid to get washed away by the gently lapping water.

You clenched on him again, tugging at his hair. This seemed to rip away the last of his restraint.

He started thrusting into you rapidly, pulling you almost completely off of his cock only to force you back down as he simultaneously flexed his tail up, impaling you onto his thick length. It was like he was carving the perfect space for himself into your pussy, ridges sawing against your walls, making them even more sensitive. His tip slammed perfectly against your cervix, as if begging entrance to your womb, so he could breed you more directly.

The sheer overwhelming sensation of having all the nerves in your soft, wet cunt pressed and scraped against by his massive cock caused you to come almost immediately. Your head lolled back as you rode out your orgasm, waves of electric heat pulsing through you like waves crashing against the shore. You clenched down hard on Giyuu’s still-moving length, your pussy gripping every bump like it was trying to seal him inside you.

“Ohh, baby, so perfect for me…” he slurred. “Perfect mate, made just for me—”

You could do nothing more than whine, as he continued to abuse your pussy at the same frantic pace as before, almost ignoring your pathetic attempts to squeeze around him as you were pushed into overstimulation.

Your mind was starting to drift…after around the third time, you lost count of how many times you had come. It didn’t matter anyway, because no matter how many times you clenched around him and cried your way through orgasm, he never let up his tempo, continuing to fuck you as if it was the only thing keeping him sane. You would have thought he was completely in his own mind, unaware of the delicious damage he was doing to your body, if it wasn’t for the intermittent churrs of praise he panted into your ringing ears. These were interspersed by nips and bites to your neck and shoulders; you were so deep in pleasure that his needle-sharp teeth burned in a good way as they repeatedly pierced your spin, leaving bleeding marks decorating your skin red.

You were nearly unconscious by the time his rhythm finally faltered, his strokes turning harder and sloppier, no longer with the perfect staccato tempo of before. You would think your nerves would be too worn out to feel anything, but he still managed to hit your cervix hard enough to send an almost painful shock of pure sensation through you.

“M’gonna breed you now,” he whined, sounding absolutely wrecked, even though, by your count, he was the one wrecking you. “Gonna fill you up so good--my pretty mate—"

“Please,” you managed to eek out, tongue heavy in your mouth.

He thrust into you one last time, hitting the tip of his cock against the entrance to your womb as he came.

You could tell when he was about to come because his whole cock seemed to twitch inside you, and the ridges swelled up even more, until he was completely plugging your pussy, with no chance of pulling out. Then, he filled you with his come.

But…it wasn’t come, your orgasm-drunk mind realized after a minute. Your pussy was being filled to bursting with what felt like small, jelly-like spheres…

You let out a broken moan. He was breeding you. He was filling you with his eggs.

The steady pulse of eggs seemed to go on for eternity; the sensation of being filled so much caused you to orgasm again, more of a dry shudder at this point than anything else, but it caused Giyuu to coo at you and stroke his cool, sticky tongue over your lips in a mockery of a first kiss.

You let him lap fully into your mouth, closer to a proper kiss, even if it was messy and dripping…you tried to suck on his tongue, but it was too long, and he ended up fucking it in and out of your throat instead.

Once the eggs finally stopped, Giyuu gently ground into your throbbing pussy until he filled you even more, this time with a warm pulse of thick, sticky liquid that spread out in between what little gaps were left by his eggs. You could feel his whine vibrating up though his mouth into yours and he stilled completely for the first time in ages.

He pulled his tongue out of your throat to roughly whisper praise to you, but you barely heard any of it as your body slipped into blissful unconsciousness, its ordeal finally over.

You awoke to Giyuu cradling you in his arms, gently licking at the bite marks that scattered your neck and shoulders. He had pulled out, leaving your full cunt to drip his come slowly into the water. You felt bloated, and sore, and your neck stung, but you also felt a bone deep satisfaction.

“You’re awake,” he turned your head so he could look into your eyes. His pupils had shrunk back down to normal, revealing the deep ocean blue once more. “I’m sorry for hurting you,” he whispered, stroking a fingertip lightly along the red and inflamed puncture wound he had caused, eyes drifting to them, almost regretfully. “I couldn’t hold myself back…”

“It’s okay,” you said, voice raspy from screaming. “It felt good.”

He didn’t seem convinced; his face was back to its normal blankness, but you could see the faint furrow between his brows.

Seeing his distress, you lifted an arm up to pull his head towards you, pressing your lips together softly. This kiss, unlike your first, was chaste, just a brief meeting of lips, but it was enough to relax him. You gave him a small smile. “You’re so sweet, taking care of me,” you cooed, only slightly teasing him. It was amusing to see the creature who had just fucked your brains out mere hours ago blush prettily at being called ‘sweet’.

You would miss him dearly when he left you. He must have seen your face drop, because his mood shifted towards the melancholy as well.

“Still…I should have held back. I didn’t want it to happen like that.” He murmured, tucking his face into your neck, still ashamed.

You froze, hand mid-way through stroking his hair. “What do you mean?”

“I wanted to make you my mate before this,” he replied, “I had a plan…I was going to court you, once I was well enough to leave. Mer court their mates with gifts, and I have nothing here, even though you bring me things every day. But I had forgotten about my cycle, and here we are.”

You almost couldn’t believe your ears. “You want me to be your mate?”

He pulled back to look at your face quizzically. “I thought I had made that clear before.”

“No,” you squeaked.

His face dropped. “I thought my intentions were obvious…I thought you reciprocated, but it’s okay if you don’t. I thank you for your help anyways. I can leave whenever you want.”

“No!” you blurted again. If you knew nothing else, you knew you wanted him to stay. “Mates, that’s like marriage, right? We’ll be each other’s?”

He nodded, face still carefully empty.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, tugging him until your noses brushed. “That sounds wonderful. You being mine, me being yours…I don’t mind it if you leave when you want, as long as you remember to come back to me.”

“I’ll always come back for you baby,” he said, smiling softly as he kissed you lovingly. “My lovely mate.”

You had known him only a few days, but you couldn’t imagine your life without him anymore. He lit up your days, just with his presence; he made you happier than you had been in a very long time. You should have been more cautious, instead of immediately promising yourself to him, but the soft, syrupy warmth you felt as he kissed you was intoxicating. You only hoped that this sensation would never go away.

#giyuu x reader #giyuu tomioka x reader #giyuu smut #tomioka giyuu x reader #tomioka giyuu #kny smut #kny #mdni #kny x reader #monster-october-kny-2023 #writing tags like i'm throwing spaghetti at the wall #romy can write #strange lovers event #afab reader

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idkwhatever580 · 9 days

Text

Her pt. 1

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Pairings: Natasha romanoff x reader

Prompt: natasha meets y/n while undercover at a soup kitchen. What happens when hydra gets mixed in?

Warnings ⚠️: cursing, some angst, mentions of blood and gunshot, getting beat up? Tell me if there’s any more!!

Pronouns: she/her

A/N: guys this one is really long 😭 idk how many words tho. Idk how to find that out. Make sure to tell me if you like it and follow if you want to see my next post. (Idk when it will go up but I think I’m gonna do a part two)-> https://www.tumblr.com/idkwhatever580/749925326055948288/her-pt-2

Natasha’s Pov

Ugh. This is so stupid. I hate this room.

Fury thinks it is a good idea for us to stay in a stupid rinky dink motel to keep our identities safe.

I think it’s bullshit. The least he can give us is a days inn. But noooo we gotta stay in a one star motel that stinks and has horrible water pressure.

I look over at Clint and glare. He smirks at me and says

“Why the long face?”

I sneer and say

“You know exactly why. We’re stuck in this dump for another month!”

He chuckles and says

“We’ve already been here a month. What’s one more? I honestly think this place is growing on me”

I roll my eyes and say

“Of course you would end up liking this shithole.”

He comes over and nudges my shoulder and says

“Hey! Think about it this way. You get to see her for another month.”

I narrow my eyes at him when he puts on a cheeky grin.

I scoff and brush it off like normal. But Clint knows. He knows me. He knows that I like her.

Her.

I could think about her all day if I tried.

You see, Clint and I are on an undercover mission to investigate a possible hydra meeting place. We’ve been eating at this soup kitchen for weeks. Acting like we’re homeless so we can get info. Normally I would hate this job. And I do don’t get me wrong, but there’s this one volunteer. Her name is y/n.

Y/n.

Doesn’t that just roll right off your tongue? I wish she’d roll right on my tongue.

I shake my head to void myself of these thoughts. But it’s all in vain. She is so pretty.

Her smile is bright. Albeit her teeth might not be perfect but I think it makes her even better. She makes this whole thing bearable.

Her sweet face, and quirky remarks make me almost blush.

Almost.

Clint snaps in front of my face and I look up at him and he says

“Did you hear a single thing I said?”

I shake my head even though I want to say yes. Whatever he said could have been important.

He sighs and says

“Well. I’m going to take a shower. And try to see if the water actually heats up this time. If not. I’ll still be in there a while. I gotta take a shit. So if you need to use the bathroom I suggest you go now or forever hold your peace”

I chuckle a bit and shake my head and he grabs his towel and says

“Alright. Have fun thinking about y/n”

He goes off and I lie back on the bed. It creaks but I don’t care anymore. All I can think about is her.

I don’t know who she is. She seems well off. But she’s not mean. No. What mean person would willingly volunteer at a soup kitchen?

She is so tender. Always making sure all the homeless people get their fair share and if she thinks someone is looking a little skinny one day she’ll give them a bit more.

She always gives me a bit more. Then says she put too much. Clint thinks it’s just to see me a bit more. I think she’s just a bit tired by the time I get in line.

Her.

God. It’s only been a month and her beauty floods my senses. I remember the first time she hugged me.

She smelled like oranges and cupcakes.

She always stayed and sat with all the homeless people. Making sure to update herself on their lives.

Clint and I stay longer though. So she ends up talking to me. He kind of acts closed off. So that he can always be on guard.

He knows my senses are being let down by her. And he’s okay with it. I wish I wasn’t.

She talks of her life a lot. And I sometimes think I see her look at my lips but I shake it away and try to forget that telling myself I imagined it.

By the time I’m done day dreaming of her today, Clint comes out and says

“One. Do NOT go in there. And two. Let’s get ready to go”

I sigh and smile a bit. I know I’m gonna get to see her. I put on my ‘homeless attire’ and we leave the building.

We walk into the soup kitchen along with some of the others who are nice. I look around and my eyes zero in on y/n’s normal spot. I see her and she sees me at the same time

She smiles excitedly and waves at all of us but her eyes linger on me. I wave back shyly.

We go up and she portions our food while asking how everyone’s day has been.

When it’s my turn she portions my food and hands it to me and then says

“Oh! I think I gave you a bit too much. Here let me fix it.”

She brushes her hand across mine and for the first time. I blush.

I blush

Crap. I blushed.

Thankfully she doesn’t notice. But I know.

She hands it back to me and says “there you go sweets”

I smile shyly but I’m screaming inside. I thank y/n and scurry off to my undesignated designated spot. Clint sits by me and says

“Did you?”

I slap him in the arm and say

“Shut up Barton or I’ll kill you”

He giggles and hops away from me to eat his food.

After a while y/n comes up to me and says

“Hey girl! I finally finished the portions. Wanna talk?”

She always asks if I want to talk and I always nod my head. She sits down and start yapping while I smile and listen to it all. At some point she says

“My mom and I always had this deal. That if I ever sent a message to her with a lowercase x at the end, that means I am in danger. Thank goodness I never had to use it though.”

She quickly moves on to another topic just as fast as she got to the previous. I try to keep up with her.

As the soup kitchen closes for the day around 3 and we all leave. I leave with a smile on my face.

God she’s so pretty.

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I wake up in bed and smile. I look over at my alarm clock and realize I have only about thirty minutes left to get ready for the soup kitchen.

I hop out of bed and Clint smirks and says

“You’ve never slept that long. You good?”

I roll my eyes and say

“Fuck off”

We quickly leave for the soup kitchen and I walk in and look for y/n. My eyebrows furrow when she’s not in her normal spot.

I go over to Calvin, the soup kitchen owner and say

“Hey. Is y/n here today?”

He shakes his head and says

“No. Surprisingly she sent me a text this morning saying she’s not gonna make it. Look”

Calvin turns his phone towards me and I read the message.

Y/n Y/l/n

Hey! I’m so sorry this is last minute but I can’t come in today. Hopefully I’ll see you tomorrow! x

My eyes widen and I say

“Oh. Okay. Thanks Calvin.”

I quickly walk to Clint who is eagerly waiting in line for his food. I whisper to him.

“We need to go. Y/n is in danger.”

He looks at me confused and says

“What? You heard Calvin. He said she said she was fine.”

I shake my head and only now does Clint realize I am being serious.

“Aww but I just got to the front of the line”

Clint whines and pouts and I say

“If I let you grab this you better get a to go box. And hurry”

In a stern voice. He nods his head and gets his food quickly.

We head back to the motel. I pull out my emergency bag and grab the laptop. I’m only supposed to go online in emergencies and I dictate this as one.

I explain to Clint what is wrong and he nods his head in agreement. Y/n has never missed a day of the soup kitchen. Even when she was so tired she looked dead.

I quickly power it on and start looking into her socials.

It’s a wonder I haven’t looked her up until now. It’s actually a wonder that I haven’t even heard of her. She’s popular.

She’s a famous artist. Actress and Singer/songwriter. Her name is Y/n y/m/n y/l/n. She’s 24. Only three years younger than me. She acts in some really popular movies. Of course I never have watched them. Or else I would have probably recognized her. She writes and sings a bit. But not much.

I start digging deeper. I look at her most recent posts and I see that she posted on Instagram about the same time that she sent the message to Calvin.

I read the post and it’s a cute picture of her. From yesterday. That’s the outfit she wore and she took a quick selfie in it.

She added a paragraph and I scour it intensely.

Hey guys! I know I don’t do this a lot but I whant to come on heere and thank you for your dedication tol me. I’m so excited to have hit fifty milliopn follmowers on Instageram. It’sh truly an hyonor to be lovedd by so rmany of youa. xoxo x

I see how she has a bunch of misspelled words and I put two and two together. The misspellings put together make out a sentence.

Help me hydra x

I look back at Clint and he says

“Damn. That was easy. She’s smart.”

All the comments are either fawning over her or bullying her for having so many misspellings but I know. She’s communicating to me. To anyone who notices. And I am the person right now.

Thankfully, the hydra people are fucking stupid. And I’m highly trained in coding. So I am able to track her phone easily.

I pinpoint it at the soup kitchen. And then Clint grabs my shoulder and says.

“The back room. Y/n always talked about Calvin chilling in a back room that she caught a glimpse of once. She said it looked scary.”

I widen my eyes and my shoulders tense up say

“You think they’re stupid enough to keep her there?”

He nods his head and I shake mine and say

“Well. There’s no harm in trying. And we might get our mission done faster if we’re right.”

I quickly put on my suit as Clint puts his on in the bathroom. He walks up with his bow and arrow at the ready and he says.

“You ready?”

I nod my head stiffly and we hop in the run down car that we are only allowed to use in emergencies. Once again we both dictate this an emergency.

Clint drives as I map out a plan outloud.

“Okay. So we’re gonna split up. You go in the front. I’ll go in the back. See what we can find. I know our mission is to get intel but if y/n doesn’t make it out alive I’m gonna burn the whole city down.”

Clint chuckles a bit with his signature smile on and I raise my eyebrow and say

“What?”

He shakes his head and says,

“Well, it’s just- you really like this girl huh? I mean burning the city down is a pretty big thing to do. And that’s kind of odd for you. I didn’t think you’d be the type.”

I scoff and cross my arms and say

“We need to focus on the mission. And not the fact that I may or may not be down bad.”

He chuckles once more and then pulls into a spot away from the soup kitchen.

I run to the back and Clint runs to the front once we solidify our plan and then we both easily break in. The soup kitchen is usually open in case there is a homeless person who desperately needs shelter. Like if there’s a storm or something. Thankfully though Clint tells me through comms that there’s no one inside.

“I’m in”

I say when I pick the lock. I frown when I realize that this is gonna be an easy feat. I know not to let my guard down. Just in case.

I hear a crackle when the comms come on and Clint says,

“Hey nat… you’re gonna want to see this”

I put my finger on my earpiece and say,

“Did you find y/n?”

“No, but I found the intel we were definitely looking for. And a lot more.”

I frown and say,

“Okay put it on a drive then come find me. I’m in the west wing. Call a quinjet to pick us up.”

——————————————————————————

Nobody’s pov

Clint downloads the files to a usb drive and he kind of freezes for a moment as he sees the files of horrifying victims flow into it. There’s footsteps headed his way and he pulls out his arrows and prepares to shoot someone.

One set of footsteps quickly becomes about four and something he can quite pin he takes a breath prepared to fight.

The doors open so fast he doesn’t even have time to blink before he is shooting his arrows. He quickly downs four of them but he knows there’s a fifth.

He slowly looks around the area they came in and moves around the desk only to find a shaking ball of a human. He squats down and says

“Y/n?”

So softly she might not have heard it. She snaps her head up and says

“Cliff?”

She sniffles when she says his code name and he holds his hand out for her and says.

“It’s Clint. I know this is confusing and scary but we’ve got to find Natasha and get you out of here before anything else happens okay?”

She nods her head and says

“Is Natalie Natasha?”

Clint nods his head and presses his earpiece to tell Natasha that they’re done.

Natasha huffs and says

“Wow you just have to take all the credit huh?”

Clint giggles a bit and then grabs the full usb drive and starts walking out carefully. He looks back at y/n and says

“Are you coming or not?”

She is shaking and says,

“Uh. I- I think I can’t walk”

Clint finally realizes that she has a bullet in her thigh and it’s bleeding a bit but thankfully not enough to kill her. At least for now. He sighs and says,

“Alright. I’m gonna pick you up and we’re gonna fly to New York for a bit to get you healed.”

She nods her head and we head off.

Once Clint gets everyone on the quinjet y/n passes out.

“Fuck”

——————————————————————————

Y/n’s pov

I wake up in a hospital bed. I open my eyes a bit just to close them immediately. You’d think that they would turn the lights down or something.

I groan a bit and someone is at my side. I don’t even want to see who it is. I just want to get back to my home.

Which is what got me into this situation in the first place.

——————————————————————————

(Kind of flashback?)

I walked out of the soup kitchen. Everyone had left and I locked the door. I decided to walk there today so I started my trek back home. And then I realized I left my phone. So I went back and unlocked the door.

Calvin was in there. I assume he is just restocking or something and I say hi and asked if he has seen my phone.

He dangles it in front of my face and then puts a gun to my head.

Shit

He says I need to make a text to send to him so that nobody from the soup kitchen worries about me and then make a post so that my fans don’t think anything of my absence.

At this point. I probably won’t be making it out.

Yes I’m famous. And yes I have a lot of caring fans.

But nobody knows me well enough to even think of me. And by the time someone does. I’ll probably be dead.

He walks me to the back room that I’ve only seen once. Damn. I knew this was sketch.

His grip on my hands is so tight.

I didn’t even realize I have tears streaming down my face until he says

“Quit your whimpering. If you get us caught you’re dead”

I look up at him and say

“Us? There’s more?”

He scoffs and says

“Of course there’s more of us. Hydra doesn’t do loners. We’re not dumb enough. Now shut up or I’ll kill you and everyone else you’ve ever loved. Including your little Natalie”

That shut me up real quick.

Fuck my life.

He throws me in a cell and beats me up. I have so many cuts and bruises already.

He left me about an hour ago and now I’m just laying here on the concrete. By my calculations the soup kitchen will open in about 8 hours. Hopefully Natalie notices I’m gone.

She notices everything.

I know she’s homeless and I’m not but part of me wants to take her with me. Give her a new life.

Make her mine.

But she doesn’t like me like that. And that wouldn’t be fair to the other homeless people who have been here even longer.

Gran says I’m head over heels and I should court her. But she’s also a bit crazy.

But then again pops says she likes me back. And although pops is like never wrong, there’s always a first time for everything. I’m not so sure though.

God how am I thinking of her at a time like this? I’m actually daydreaming about a silly little (not so little) crush of mine while my life is at stake. Well, I have nothing else to do. So thinking about her it is.

Her

She’s so beautiful. Even when she has dirt all over her and her clothes look like they need more than just a little stitching and washing.

Natalie

It’s a pretty name but it honestly doesn’t fit her quite right. I just don’t know what other name would though.

Meh. I’m probably just being weird.

By the time I am finished thinking about her I fall asleep and I wake up and calculate it is already morning. Thank god. My calculations are confirmed when one of the guards brought me food for some reason. I ask him

“What time is it?”

He says,

“I’m not supposed to talk to you but it’s 10:46 am”

I nod my head and thank him.

I scarf the food down so I can hopefully get as much energy before they take it away from me. Maybe I’ll be able to stay alive longer.

After I’m finished Calvin walks in and says

“What do you know about Natalie?”

I frown and say

“Why?”

“You’re very close to her. And i want info on her. If you tell me everything you know I’ll let you go”

I consider my options. But clearly they want her info for something. I don’t want her to be in danger. She’s strong yes. But she’s also homeless. Nobody to care for her. And I don’t want her to die on my watch. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if one of my favorite people died because of me. Hoe selfish would that be.

So I say the bare minimum.

“I don’t actually know much about her. I usually do all the talking.”

He kicks me. Ouch.

“I think her favorite color is red. And her favorite food is whatever I cook. At least that’s what she says.”

Another kick. Ow.

Calvin gets a bit mad and says.

“The soup kitchen is about to open. I’m gonna go get the food prepared and you’re going to think about every little thing she’s ever told you. And about that cliff dude too.”

I glare at him and say

“He never talks. You think I know anything? I’m just a stupid girl.”

He sneers and says

“If you don’t come up with anything good you better kiss your little girlfriend goodbye.”

I frown and curl into a ball as he leaves.

I mumble

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

What can I find that will seem plausible that isn’t true about her.

——————————————————————————

Time jump to after soup kitchen closes and Calvin comes back.

“Tell me everything you know bitch”

I spit at him and say

“I don’t know anything about them”

He gets really angry at that and he kicks me in the head.

I’m shaking really bad already. That’s gonna hurt way worse later. If I make it to later.

After more and more berating he finally has enough and pulls out a gun. I cry and sob and say

“Pl- please no. Calvin you’re better than this! It’s okay I won’t tell anyone! I promise just let me go. Please”

I beg but he doesn’t give in. He points the gun at me and shoots.

It hits me in my thigh and I scream. I scream and I scream and he says

“Shut up bitch. Nobody can hear you. They won’t hear you when you scream.”

I cry but I quiet down. Clearly there’s no point in using my voice. I’m just gonna die anyways.

Suddenly there’s a guard running to Calvin and he whispers something to him. Calvin looks at me and says

“Get up bitch. You’re coming with us”

Three more guards come and pick me up and start marching me away from whatever it is they’re scared of. They open a door and then I fall on the ground. They dropped me for some reason but I don’t care. I curl up into a ball and then a soft voice calls my name.

I look up and say

“Cliff?”

——————————————————————————

And that’s how I ended up here.

I’m in a hospital bed. Somewhere. Probably safe.

I finally open my eyes and see Natalie. Well. Natasha.

That name fits her better. Now I know why I felt that way. She’s still so pretty.

But she’s in a black catsuit. It shows off her curves. I look away because I don’t want to objectify her or anything.

She smiles and says

“You’re awake”

I can tell that she wants to say something else but doesn’t know if she can.

I look at her and say.

“Yeah. What happened?”

“Well. You obviously know you were kidnapped by hydra.”

I nod my head and don’t let her finish. I’m clearly hurt when I say

“Why did you lie to me?”

She sighs and says.

“I’m sorry. You have every right to be mad at me. I lied because I am an avenger. We’re in New York City at the avengers tower. I can take you home as soon as you’re cleared. But for now I’m going to explain okay?”

I nod my head and let her speak.

“Since I am an avenger and a highly ranked spy, I sometimes have to go on missions undercover. My name is Natasha romanoff. My alias’ are Natalie rushman, black widow and others. I was recently undercover with my friend and coworker Clint Barton. His alias’ are cliff barren and Hawkeye.”

She pauses and then continues

“We were looking to find intel. We had a hint that hydra, the people that took you, were there. Thankfully you were able to send a message out before they took you. They’re dumb. So I tracked you the second I knew you were in danger.”

I frown and say

“So you lied about not knowing who I was?”

She shook her head and says

“I only found out who you were after you sent that message. Because I looked you up on my emergency computer. So no. I didn’t lie about that. Y/n you are very brave and strong. Most people wouldn’t have made it out of there. Most people didn’t.”

I nod my head and say

“So. How long have I been out?”

“About a day and a half. Clint and I went to the soup kitchen the past two days to make sure everyone was okay. It’s under new management already. She’s nice. Her name is Mary. We cleared out hydra and everything and everyone at the soup kitchen is okay.”

I nod my head and say

“That’s good.”

I frown and say

“What now?”

She sighs and sits down and says

“Well. You have a few options after you’re cleared. Continue on with life and forget all about us. Or, we can create a new safe soup kitchen and you can start creating houses for the homeless. Give them new opportunities. Get some of them into rehab. Follow your dream. Fully paid of course, courtesy of Tony Stark and SHEILD considering you helped us get one of the biggest bouts of information in a very short amount of time.”

My eyes light up and I say

“Wait… you… you listened to me when I was talking?”

Natasha nods her head and says

“I don’t know if you noticed but I notice everything. When you talked about your dreams of retiring as an actress to help the needy, it was so moving. It’s a good dream. And I want to help you achieve it.”

I sit up carefully and say

“I’m so excited I could just kiss you!”

I realize what I said and then say

“Oh shit. I didn’t- I don’t- I didn’t mean that”

Natasha says

“Really? Because I would have done it if you did mean it.”

I widen my eyes and point at her a little dumbfounded and say

“You- you wanna- I-l”

She smirks and walks up to my hospital bed and leans into me. She stops just before to silently ask permission and I nod my head.

She presses her lips softly into mine and they’re softer than clouds. She pulls away softly and I giggle like a school girl and say

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

Natasha raises her eyebrow and says

“Even when I was covered in dirt and smelled like shit?”

I shrug my shoulders and say

“I think it adds to your charm. You’re a cutie”

We hear a chuckle from the doorway and Clint walks in. He smirks and says

“I don’t think anyone has ever called Natasha romanoff a cutie and made it out alive.”

Natasha rolls her eyes and says

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Nobody called me anything”

I giggle and say.

“Natasha?”

She immediately looks at me and I say

“Do you think I can really do that homeless shelter?”

She nods her head and says

“I know you can.”

I smile realizing a whole new chapter of my life is about to start. And it’s gonna be great.

All because of her

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

A/N: whew!! Damn that was long. I hope y’all liked it!!! Please tell me if there are any warnings I missed. I think I’m gonna do a part two of the next chapter in y/n’s life. I really just write whatever I’m thinking about lol. My anons are in fact open. I don’t have too many requirements. But expect to have a happy ending lol I’m so sappy 🤷‍♀️🩷

#avengers #fanfic #marvel #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader

139 notes · View notes

grippingbeskar · 1 year

Text

strip poker

matt murdock x fem!reader

warnings: explicit content 18+ minors dni (mxf, dirty talk, honestly kind of tame if i’m honest) swearing, gambling?? idk it’s literally the title

a/n: i have been getting a few messages to write more matt so HERE IS ME FULFILLING THAT REQUEST! i’m so glad you guys liked the first one! hope you enjoy! also this gif is how i imagine him looking for the whole first part. fuxk he’s so hot anyways.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard. How is that even possible?” You shout, nearly spilling your beer on the already sticky table at Josie’s. You’d been playing poker in the shitty little set up at the back, a bunch of screwed up twenty dollar bills half heartedly thrown in as Matthew Murdock won yet another round.

“It’s unfair, really. Gets the looks and the brains. He either folds right away, or wins the whole game.” Foggy shakes his head, shoving Matt on the shoulder. “I lost a lotta money to this guy in college.”

“Yet you still play him.” Karen chucks her cards in the centre, watching Foggy re-shuffle the deck while Matt takes his winnings, shrugging.

“I didn’t say I learnt from it.”

“But how does that even…work? Because, you’re—well, you know…” You lean back, trying not to think about Matt’s attention, and how it had been on you the whole night. Especially now, as his fingers card through the new wad of cash in his hands, almost like he’s doing it just for you.

“Blind?” He smiles, and you make a noise of agreement while finishing off your beer. “I’m just very good at reading people.”

“Oh, I get it. You cheat, don’t you? Feel the fibres in the cards or whatever.” He scoffs, shaking his head.

“Feel the fibres?”

“Okay— well, it’s something like that, though. Isn’t it?” Even Foggy was interested now, snatching the deck that was now in the centre of the table. Matt shrugs again, hanging one arm around the empty chair next to him.

“I don’t cheat. Most people give away their hand as soon as they open their mouth. You just have to know the tell. Poker is just a waiting game.” He says it casually like winning every single poker game he’s ever played is the simplest thing in the world. “Plus, like you said. It’s not like I can look over your shoulder, can I? How would I cheat?”

“Well, whatever it is, I hope it fails, because I need to start paying off this tab if Josie’s gonna serve us anymore.” Foggy deals out the cards, and you watch Matt intently. He never even picks up his cards, just sits there with one hand wrapped around his beer, head turned in your direction. “Alright, Karen?”

“I’m out. I’m running out of money.” Foggy boo’s, and she laughs, sliding off her chair. “Maybe if my boss’ paid me more, I’d be in.”

“Okay, ouch.” Foggy pouts, but deals your cards, skipping over Karen’s empty seat. “Matthew, you start.”

“I’m in.” He smirks, his free hand lightly tracing around the edges of his face-down cards. “Your turn, sweetheart.”

“In.” You look at Foggy, and he sighs, pushing in his money as well.

“Last round. I’m all in.” All in doesn’t mean a lot to Foggy considering he’d only had about two chips and a one dollar bill left, but you and Matt still had a fair amount. Both of you match his bet, and he flips over another card. “Well, fuck.”

“See? Everyone’s got a tell.” Matt laughs and you roll your eyes. Foggy chucks his cards in the centre.

“Anyone could tell Foggy was gonna lose.”

“Hey! I had a fair chance about an hour ago.” Leaving both you and Matt laughing, he turns to go find Karen. “You two kids get home safe, okay?”

“I’ll look after her.” He says, his head still angled towards you. Your grip on the cards in your hand gets a little tighter, and he taps his finger on the table, asking you to flip another card. “Come on. You aren’t giving up yet, are you?”

“Definitely not.” You flip the last card, and it’s a King. The one you were looking for— you had a full house. A strong hand, but you didn’t want to give yourself away. You say nothing, remembering what Matt said earlier, and he smiles after a beat of silence.

“You aren’t talking to me now?” He teases, leaning over the table on his forearms to get a little closer to you. He smells like beer and cedar— a strange combination, but somehow intoxicating on him. “You know I’m gonna beat you anyways. No point in getting all quiet on me.”

“Shut up and make your bet, Murdock.” He’s still got that smirk on his face, the one that says he’s going to beat you before you’ve even put your cards down, and he matches your bet, sliding a few bills into the centre. “Showoff.”

“Just trying to impress you.” He was making it increasingly hard to keep a poker face, and you know he couldn’t see you but somehow it felt like he could see straight through you, like he knew how every one of his sweet words ate away at that feeble resistance you’d built up to try and keep him out. “You can fold if you need to. I promise I won’t hold it against you.”

“Does this whole act usually work for you? The girls eat this shit up, don’t they?” He shrugs, leaning back and leaving his still turned down cards on the table.

“Most of the time.” You push in double the amount of money he bet, and somehow he knows exactly how many, because before you’d even sat back he was matching the bet, smiling sweetly at you.

“How?!”

“How what?”

“How do you know you’ll win?” You lean forward and he moves too, mirroring you and nearly meeting your hands in the centre of the small table.

“I can’t give away all my secrets.” You roll your eyes and lay your cards face up on the table. He doesn’t so much as flinch, both your bodies still leaning towards each other.

This part of the bar was quiet and secluded, and you swear if you angled yourself just right no one would even be able to see you from here. The thought drove your brain to a whole lot of dirty thoughts you had been trying your best not to have about your literal boss, and you physically shook them away. When he spoke again, you had to squint to focus.

“Wouldn’t be fair, would it?”

“Oh, piss off. Let’s see what you have.” You deflect, holding out hope you could still make something of this game. Still smirking, he keeps his head angled towards you, reaching over and sliding his cards to you. You’re hesitant to take them, and he knows it.

“Help a guy out?” He reaches out to the wrong spot on the table, a clear ploy to get you to flip them for him. He was delaying this— dragging it out because it was fun to him, and as much as it sucked you were losing money, you’d probably empty your wallet if it kept him this close to you.

“I’m not falling for your helpless act. I’ve seen you in a court room.”

“Indulge me.” Deciding not to delay the process any longer, you flip them all over in one go.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” A royal-fucking-flush.

“What is it?” He says smiling, keeping as close to you as possible.

“A— you know what? I’m not even going to tell you.” He breathes out a laugh, leaning back finally, and it’s only when he’s sitting in his chair again that you manage to get your head screwed back on straight. “Now I’m really out of money.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Happens to the best of them.” You scoff. That’s the second time he’s called you that, and it seems to make you fidget in your seat more every time.

“Just means you have to cover the tab.”

“Don’t pout.” Instantly you steeled your face, and just as you were about to ask him exactly how he knew, he spoke again. “I tell you what— you want your money back, we can play a new game. All or nothing.”

“I feel like this is a trap.” He laughed, the sound drawing you in like some kind of siren song. You leaned forward again, reaching out for your money on the table, but he was faster, his own enveloping yours. His hands were rough and large, and you couldn’t peel your eyes away from how you practically disappeared underneath him.

“It’s not a game we can play here, though.” You swallow hard. You’d always flirted with Matt— it was easy, and honestly the best part of your day was seeing that playful smile, or even when his ears got a little pink when you got particularly close to whisper something about a case.

But this? He’s talking about leave a bar with him. On a Saturday night. To play a game. You chugged the rest of your beer, needing the liquid courage.

“Alright, Matthew. I’ll indulge you. What kind of game are you talking about?”

“Poker.” Laughing, you watch as he gets up from his chair and grabs his jacket, already resigned to the idea you were both leaving. Now.

“We are playing poker.”

“It’s not that kind of poker.” He’s right next to you now, edged between you and the chair cemented to the floor next to you. He was so close you had no choice but to lean into him, not that you could think of anything else you’d rather be doing.

“Not that kind of poker?” You say softly, and he hums. The sound vibrates through his chest, and you resist the urge to flutter your eyes close and just listen to him talk. Something about his voice has you floating on air, and it’s part of the reason he’s so hard to resist. He just never stops talking.

You jump slightly when you feel his hand brush against your shoulder. You were wearing a silk dress that hung off your shoulder, so he took his time, grazing along your soft skin. His fingers carded through your hair lightly, and to top it off, he brushed the hair back, his hand coming to rest on the back of your neck, tilting your face upwards gently.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were suggesting something unprofessional, Mr. Murdock.” His face splits into another smile, but his hand drops from your skin. Instantly you feel colder without his touch.

“You tell me to go to Hell right now and I will. No hard feelings. You’re a good lawyer, and I won’t mess this up for you.” Now you understand why he stopped touching you. Matthew Murdock— self professed people reader, was unsure if he’d read this situation right. The thought occurred to you once to fuck with him a little, but when you looked up at him and saw how tight his jaw was, you melted a little. That tiny wall of resistance you’d built up was crumpled from the inside.

“And if I say I’m interested in this little game?”

“Then I’d say I’ll meet you outside. Balls in your court, princess.” He presses a light kiss to your cheek, and you nearly get dizzy from the gesture if you hadn’t seen him grab your money as well as his off the table before he disappears into the crowd.

You call after him, but all you get is a shrug and a laugh that is unmistakably his as he disappears into the crowd. You don’t move for a second— your heart screaming at you to get on your feet and follow him, but a small, stupid part of your brain tells you to not. He was your boss, after all, and you needed this job, but it was also Matt.

You knew he was a little bit of a lady killer— Karen and Foggy making a thousand jokes at his expense which he managed to laugh off. Even with clients he always managed to win the girls over with his charm, but as much as people talk about it, ever since you came around you haven’t seen him so much as flirt for more than a few minutes with anyone but you. Sure, you weren’t with him every second of every day, but between the late nights and weekends spent in his office to getting lunch and sometimes dinner on your days off, even Foggy had made a few passing comments about how he’d staved off women.

You didn’t have a leg to stand on to get jealous even if he did— but it made your heart stutter in his chest to think you had something to do with it. He was always showing up with an extra coffee for you, walking you home if you had to stay late, paying you endless compliments… and the way he spoke to you, teasing but never cruel, always making you laugh even when you hadn’t slept for 24 hours.

Really— your decision on whether to follow him out was made months ago when you first met him. The moment you saw that stupid smile and the first time he said your name; you nearly took the chair with you with how quick you jumped up to find him outside the bar.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I’ve never been to your place before.” You listen to the sound of Matt pouring you a glass of wine as you hang your head off the back of his couch. You have to squint to block out the streaming colour of light that shines through the giant windows; hues of pink and blue billboard warped from the rain that was coming down outside.

“It’s an acquired taste.” He taps your leg and you shift to sit up, him sitting close next to you handing you a glass. “You like red, right?”

“I drink anything as long as it’s free.”

“This one’s on me.” You laugh into your glass, taking a long sip and enjoying the burn that comes with it. It tastes expensive, and you expect nothing less from him. He’s facing you, one arm lazily hanging behind you on the couch, and your heart is racing even without the wine.

“So, did you really invite me up here for a game of poker, or was that just a ploy to get in my pants?” His laugh fills the quiet apartment, and he leans forward to pull out a drawer, his hand reappearing with a deck of cards.

“I never say no to a pretty girl in my apartment, but if you want your money back, you’re going to have to play me for it.” You snatch the cards from him, shuffling them dramatically.

“And tell me why, exactly, we couldn’t play this all important game in the bar?” You watch him carefully, how you always do when your alone, and you see his tell tale sign. The slightest hint of red on his cheeks, just at your question. “Matthew?”

“You’re out of money, but we’re still playing poker. What do you think we’re betting?” Now you were the one blushing.

“So this really was a ploy to get in my pants.” You try to sound nonchalant, confident like he always manages to come across as, but your voice shakes a little at the end of your sentence, and you were still shuffling the cards even though they were way past ready. You quickly put them on the table and down the rest of your wine.

“Can you blame me?” He asks lowly, and you cross your legs, ignoring the heat that grows in your stomach. “Listen, you know I love these games we play, but I don’t want you to—“

“If you’re bitching out now, I can take the money in credit or cheque, too.” He stops talking, mouth open a little, and scoffs out a laugh. The last thing you wanted him to do was think you weren’t a hundred and ten percent here for whatever he wanted to do with you. To you. Shit— that wine was going straight to your head.

“Alright, you asked for it. I was gonna go easy on you, but…”He sighs and shakes his head, and you roll your eyes, dealing the cards.

“Sure you were. Pick up the cards this time.” You all but shove them in his hands, and he takes his time pulling away from you, smiling like he could feel your pulse through the small touch and knew how much he affected you.

Looking at your cards, you tried to see a way to win with what was on the table. You had nothing, really, but he didn’t know that, and you still had a chance. Besides, if he wanted to play that kind of poker, you were positive you wouldn’t have to rely on the cards to distract him. If you could keep your thoughts under control.

“It’s a real shame you aren’t going to win, you know.” You bait him, and his head tilts up from where he was pretending to be looking at his cards.

“And why is that?” You shift in your seat at his voice. Again.

“Well, I dressed up all pretty for tonight.” You flip over the next card on the table, and suck in a breath. “And it’s just a shame you won’t get to experience that.”

“You know the point of this game isn’t to keep your clothes on. No matter how pretty you are in that dress.” He flips over the final card, and you bite down on your lower lip. You have nothing. Nada.

“Exactly, but the best part of my outfit isn’t the dress. It’s what I’m wearing underneath.” His eyes close, and you watch as he sighs and lets his head fall back.

“Can’t believe I was going to take it easy on you, sweet thing.” You can’t stop the grin on your face as he looks up at you like he’s in legitimate pain. “Play your cards.”

“Ohh, so serious now!” He manages a small ‘hm’ and although you were joking, he doesn’t seem so playful anymore. The look on his face was more akin to what he was like in court— focused and ready to win at all costs. “Don’t pout.”

“You’re bluffing, aren’t you?” He says, and you feel his hand on your opposite shoulder, the arm laying around the back of your couch sneaking closer while you were distracted. You shuffle slightly closer, allowing him the space.

“I thought you knew everyone’s tells.”

“You’re a little harder to read than most, I’ll admit it.” You make a noise in surprise, but he just shakes his head. “That doesn’t mean I won’t take you apart just as easily.”

“Guess you’ll have to play your cards to find out. Unless you want to fold?” He laughs, breaking up the tension just a little, and while you two were inches away from each other, he tosses his cards half heartedly onto the table, face up.

“How’d I do?” He leans closer, taking the extra space when you turn your head. You feel every word he speaks on your skin, lips not even an inch away from being on you. You could hardly keep your eyes open, let alone focus on the cards.

“I think you win this round.” You manage, shakily exhaling as you practically feel his smile on your neck. The hand that was around the back of the couch leaves you completely, while the other slowly creeps up the bare skin of your arm, making you shiver. “Th-three sixes against a four of a kind.”

“Hmm. Unlucky.” Shallow breaths were the only ones you could take with him this close. Gentle fingers find the soft material of the strap of your dress, hooking under it loosely. You told yourself you didn’t wear this dress for him— but you knew how it would feel. Silky and smooth against your skin, if he couldn’t see how good you looked in this dress, he would damn well feel it.

He slowly drops the strap down your shoulder, then the other hand encourages the other side down. You use your arms to keep the dress up, making him work for it a little, but as soon as he tugs lightly at the hem you let the dress fall over your breasts.

Matt’s hands feel the lace of your bra, lingering a little longer than he had to. Then he flattens his palms on either side of your rib cage, pulling the dress lower. He feels every curve and ridge on your body, and you can’t take your eyes off his face. He was enamoured— completely lost in the feeling, so much so that his eyes were shut tightly, even the light was taking too much away from the sensation.

“Matt, hurry u—“

“Shh. Let me enjoy my prize.” He finally leans closer, a soft kiss to your collarbone nearly melting you into the couch.

His hands reach your hip, and then get a little more aggressive, fisting the soft material and pulling rather than guiding. You shimmy your hips and let him drag it down your thighs. He seems reluctant to move past the faint excuse for underwear you were wearing, but eventually the dress falls to the floor, and he sighs.

“You were right.”

“About what?” His hand catches your chin, thumb pressing on your bottom lip lightly.

“You are even prettier like this.” Your knuckles were going white with how hard they were trying to stay at your sides, but now you were half naked, and he hadn’t so much as taken his jacket off.

“You think so?”

“I fucking know so. And these—“ The hand on holding your face to his is still on your hip, and one finger hooks under the lace. “—these for me?”

“You haven’t won that yet.” He presses his forehead to yours and groans, and then leans back, but doesn’t go too far. “Your turn to deal.”

“Fine.” He frowns like a little kid who just got told he can’t have ice cream, and quickly swipes up the cards. It’s only then that you notice these ones— his personal set, have braille on them.

“You can read these ones.” You say, and he nods.

“This game is much more important.” Biting your lip so hard it’s probably bleeding, you watch his talented hands quickly sort and deal the cards. “Wouldn’t want anyone to think I’m cheating.”

“You’re so funny.” You squint, and he smiles.

This round is much faster. He’s clearly in no mood to fuck around anymore, and makes every opportunity to touch you now you’re sitting in front of him in nothing but a few strands of lace. In front of anyone else, you think you’d feel insecure, or at the very least cold, but with the way he’s acting like he’s starving for you— it has enough heat in that look to warm you for an entire winter.

You actually have a good hand this time, and to your surprise, you win. Your Aces beat his fours, and he takes off his jacket.

“That is hardly fair.”

“Are you trying to get me to take my clothes off? Because that is entirely unprofessional.” You want to laugh, but what you want more is to tear off the buttons on his shirt and— “Your cards, sweetheart.”

“So, are you going to tell me how you know you’ll win?” You take them quickly, trying to ignore how you missed him reshuffling the deck completely because you were too lost in your thoughts of fucking him right here, right now. What else was going to happen here, though? It was the anticipation that was driving you wild— the inevitable burn of what was months in the making.

“You really want to know?”

“Please.” He smiles again, flicking through his cards.

“I can hear your heartbeat.” You laugh, and he faces you again.

“You’re kidding.”

“It gets faster when you’re winning.” You look down at your cards— another solid hand, and you think he might of had something to do with that.

“I don’t think th—“

“It’s getting faster.” He leans closer again, tilting his head like he could actually hear you internally losing your shit. He was right— it was getting faster, but it had nothing to do with the cards. “You have a good hand, don’t you?”

“Maybe?” He laughs, and his hand touches yours. You watch as his hands— the hands you’ve spent way too many hours looking at, and they read your cards.

“Shit. I’m starting to think you might be cheating.” He starts unbuttoning his shirt, but your hands reach out, stopping him.

“My turn.” Keeping your hands on top of his, you relish in his surprised expression as you swing your leg over him. He all but gasps when you sit your weight down fully, the underwear hiding nothing from him or you as you press yourself against him.

Your fingers are as soft as his were, moving his tie to the side while you slowly undo each little button. When a new one opens, more of him is revealed, and every inch of unexplored skin has you nearly panting. Not to mention the way he’s holding you, his hands roaming the bare skin of your back and hips to pull you closer.

When you finally reach the bottom of his shirt, you nearly rip at it trying to remove it, but Matt takes it from you and slips out of it within a second, throwing it away somewhere behind you. Your hands are gentle as they slide up his chest, trying your best to avoid the scars that might still be painful. You had no idea he had so many scars— the image of him shirtless is even more alluring now.

“I don’t want to play games anymore.” You whisper, and his hand is already tangled in your hair when you finish, hauling your lips to his in a hungry kiss. Its fiery and hot, everything burning at once. You wrap your arms around his head and in one motion he stands, a small squeak of surprise coming from you as your legs wrap around his torso.

You couldn’t stop obsessing over the feeling of his skin on yours, the way he felt so warm against you; how his hands were rough and gentle at the same time, grabbing and pulling at any part of you they could find purchase. Eventually he stopped moving and your world fell backwards, landing on soft sheets and being encased by Matthew Murdock.

“Matty…” You whine into his mouth and he hums against you, his tongue opening you up, taking control of every single breath you take. Your eyes flutter open when he moves lower, kissing your jaw, and you inhale sharply when his teeth bite lightly at the sensitive spot on your neck. It felt electric, almost, the way he followed the harsher touch with gentle kisses and soothing hands.

“Fuck, you liked that? My sweet little fucking thing. Thought about this every day.” He groaned the confessions against your skin, leaving you helpless to do anything but moan and squirm underneath him. You were at his mercy, and you were pretty sure if he didn’t fuck you soon you’d implode. “You’re beautiful. Beautiful.”

His hand slips from your side down between your bodies, quickly finding the spot between your legs that has you nearly screaming his name in the first ten seconds.

“Oh God, more—please.” You beg shamelessly, rolling your hips into his hand as he takes his time drawing slow, firm circles on your clit. His other hand holds your hips down, making you whine in protest.

“I know, baby. Feels good?” You nod quickly, eyes squeezed shut.

“I need you—“

“You’re so fucking pretty like this. You want me to take these off? Have I won these yet?” He whispers, that casual confidence thick in his low tone.

“Anything you want. You w-win.” He tugs at the now ruined fabric, and you practically beg him to get rid of them, a mixture of ‘pleases’ and ‘yes’ in high pitched tones must convince him. He quickly slides them over your knees before his hand returns to your clit, making your legs shake with how close you are. He had you on the edge with just one of his talented fucking hands— but then he drops down, shoulders forcing your legs apart and buries his face in you. You hardly have time to realise what’s happening before your hands are threaded through his hair and your hips are fighting in his hold to stay still.

“Fuck, Matt!” You scream, and he only wraps himself further to you, hooking his arms under your thighs and holding you on him. When he takes your clit in his mouth you lose all sense of reality, and are shoved towards the edge of consciousness, white hot pleasure stripping you bare. “God—“

“You taste so fucking sweet— cum for me. I want to hear you say my name like that again” He murmurs into you before going back to driving you into the hardest release you’ve ever felt build before.

“Matt. Matt—“He holds you so tight you couldn’t squirm away if you tried, and when your orgasm washes over you, you all but drown in it. Electricity shoots up your spine and your back arches, hands gripping Matt’s hair hard enough that you feel him groan into you at the feeling.

“Harder.” He moans into you, and you were still so lost in your own pleasure that you couldn’t do anything but obey— nearly yanking him upwards, but he just moans again and takes everything you give him.

He only drags himself away when you jolt at his touch, kissing his way up your stomach, chest, and this time when he gets to the fabric of your bra he lingers longer, taking his time to enjoy the feel of the lace under his fingers. When he starts kissing your neck, leaving a multitude of hickeys you’ll never be able to hide in the morning, you notice at some point he’d taken the rest of his clothes off.

His hips slot between yours and he’s fucking hard— the feeling of him pressed against you makes you gasp. He was bigger than you’d expected, and every so often his hips would move slowly, running the length of him through your wet folds making you whimper into his mouth again.

“You okay, sweetheart?” His voice was gravelly and layered with restraint— hands gliding up and down your side, grounding you.

“Perfect, Matty. Please…” He kisses you again, gentle and sweet, nodding as he slides himself into you. You gasp into each others mouths at the feeling, and he pulls back, watching your expression melt from a little bit of pain as he waits and kisses you, to pleasure, taking the hint of your nails in his shoulders to start moving slowly.

“Oh, fuckfuckfuck— so fucking good. Jesus Christ.” He moans in your ear and you shiver. It was always his voice that drove you crazy, but hearing it now, so broken and not put together like he always is. The words hit you in the chest, pleasure blooming in every single one of your veins, overtaking every part of your body. “So tight.”

“Right there. Harder, please Matt. Please…” He holds you tighter as he does what you ask, and your whimpers turn into screams as he fucks you into the mattress without another thought. Your eyes must roll back or close because you lose the sight of his face, but all you need is to hear him.

“Good girl. Good..fucking…girl.” Hearing the way he says your name, all drawn out and heavy— how he whispered how he wanted to fuck you for days, how he thought about ducking you at your desk for just as long as you secretly did. Everything about him, mixed with the brutal pace he fucked you with hurtled you into another wave of pleasure, screaming his name so loud there’s no way the rest of Hell’s kitchen didn’t know exactly who was making you feel this good.

“There you go, baby. Gonna…fuck— gonna cum. Sweet fucking thing.” His hips stuttered and you were still cumming, every word spurring you further out of your mind.

“Give it to me, please please please—“ He buried his face in the crook of your neck, and you felt the warmth of his release on your stomach and thighs. He was still breathing praises into your skin even after he pulled out, wrapping you into his body, not caring about the mess you had both made. He couldn’t find the care to let you go.

When you had both finally caught your breath, he dropped beside you, curling your body to fit perfectly against the front of his. His hand tangled in your hair, lips pressing to your forehead and cheek as he used his own shirt to clean you both off gently. You were both far too lost in each others mouths to do it properly, but you couldn’t give less of a fuck. You’d gladly spend the rest of your days losing hours in Matt Murdocks mouth.

“Stay tonight.” He whispers, voice cracking.

“Only if you admit I won.” You can feel him smiling against your skin, the sensation sending a different kind of warmth all the way down your spine.

“Yeah. You win.”

#matthew murdock x y/n #matthew murdock x you #matthew murdock x reader #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock smut #daredevil x y/n #daredevil x you #daredevil x reader #daredevil smut #matthew murdock smut #daredevil #matt murdock fic #matt murdock fan fiction #daredevil fanfiction

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dadsbongos · 3 months

Note

CAN U PLSSSS WRITE A CUTE DENJI FIC OR HEADCANON/DRABBLE?? honestly idrc care which it is (obvi longer is preferred but i understand and am open to whatevs u give)

like about reader (fem) has a journal and in it she wrote about her dream dude, but like perfectly described denji and accidentally left it out and while they were hanging out or something cuz they besties he sees it and realized like "dude, that's me!" or something and then like a fluffy confession or something IDK that's just what i have sprinting through my brain rn 🤓

also maybe a lil kiss 🙏

thank you for giving me a denji idea... been fiending to write for him and just had 0 ideas

word count - 1.5 K / warnings - fem reader, not proofread!!, au where makima dies and denji just gets to be happy with special division 4 and they are familycore

~~~

“And the point of this is…?”

“I dunno,” Himeno answers honestly, shrugging, “I read somewhere that you can tell a lot about someone from their partner.”

“None of us are dating,” Aki huffs, fingers itching over the protrusion of his lighter in his pocket.

“Their preference in a partner,” Himeno groans in annoyance, gesturing out to the collection of papers in front of each of you, “Besides, what else do we have to do right now?”

Fair question, no matter how junky the science behind Himeno's apparent reading, not one of you had anything better to do. A storm was raging outside the Hayakawa apartment, all of Special Division Four having pooled there before the clouds even rolled in. Before Kobeni could shyly crawl out from the rambunctious crowd, there was lightning and thunder and an ear-piercing flood warning blasting on the television.

So, Aki swallows the rest of his complaints and puts his head down with the rest of your division. His pencil sprawling over the paper Himeno slammed in front of him to describe his ideal significant other. A tedious task he's all too eager to bullshit through as soon as Himeno is finished staring down at him.

Denji is tapping the eraser of his pencil against the kitchen island, eyes straying around the living room. He worried his bottom lip between knifepoint teeth; only stopping when he tastes iron. Even Power has started writing.

Even you have begun writing. He wonders what you're writing. He wishes he could stretch his neck and take a peek without being obvious. He wishes he could read it at all.

Denji draws a stick figure that takes up a quarter of the page, dragging the lead back over the chest to add breasts. He glances at you through the side of his eye before adding hair and a small smile. And the black hair tie snug around your wrist even though he's only ever seen you lend it to Kobeni and Angel. Now he really can't avoid it: Denji has no idea how to write.

Hopefully he can just coast with a bland drawing and let everybody think he's as shallow as they probably already believe. But when he lifts his head to glimpse at everyone else's pages, Himeno is already freezing him solid with her icy glare. Denji tucks his chin to his chest and subtly twists in the island stool to look at your paper again.

Bullet points go five lines down the page; and the only thing he can make out is one of the few characters Aki’s taught Denji at his request:

愚か. Stupid.

Denji's eyes bounce back up to your face, eyes a little gooey and smile all soft. He knows that goofy look well, it's how he finds himself everytime he thinks about you. Before he can lose himself in that, he's jealous. You're making that lovestruck face over some stupid guy that Denji can't even write a strongly worded letter to.

Denji writes one of the other few things Aki has taught him. Your name with a bold arrow pointing down at the stick figure.

Then he erases it. He scrubs the pink bud over your name so hard he tears the paper in half. A loud shirrr dragging every eye to his hunched form, shoulders hiking higher over his face at the increased attention.

“Hark! The fool cannot even spell!” Power cackles, “Show me his words! Show me his mistake!”

“Power,” you chide, as though she's a fitful toddler and not a horrific Fiend, “Be nice. You can't write either.”

“Liar!” she points at you with a shaking finger.

Kobeni shyly taps Power on the shoulder before pointing at the paper overflowing with Power's manic ideals of a partner, “Anything else…?”

“Honesty!” she glares at you sharply, “And unwavering devotion!”

“Right…” Kobeni mutters unsurely, neglecting her own paper as she continues to scribble on Power's.

“Ignore her,” you scoot your stool closer to Denji and he manages to flip his page over before you can see the drawing, “Do you need help?”

He’s nodding before his mouth can even pop open, eventually he manages to sputter alongside it, “Yeah, yeah!” taking full advantage of his new opportunity to squish right against you at the island, “Can you write…”

Patiently, you await his request and he can feel his heart pumping in his throat every time you bat your lashes at him all sweetly. Your pen leaves jet black dots as it dips in your weak grasp, Denji has lots of words to describe you and all of them knot together on the tip of his tongue, tangled and lashing to fall from his lips at once.

Ultimately, he settles for the least descriptive, “Nice.”

“Someone nice,” you nod and scratch that onto his paper, “I like that.”

Denji feels his whole body go junky with sparks of electricity, blood boiling hot at how you feel comfortable enough to drag your paper into his full view. You point at your top bullet point, nail tacking loudly into the surface when his eyes don’t immediately stray from your face to the words below. Your bottom lip is sucked between your teeth as you study his reaction, leaning your face even closer to his.

Though you’re blurry and jumbled in his peripherals, Denji can still make out the upturn of your lips. He looks over the rest of the page, desperately searching for any other words he can make out and mold himself to. That, or cope and make up some ways in which he’s at least comparable to your dream man.

He can make out: Pretty.

Do you think Denji is pretty?

He sees another one he recognizes: 歯 -- teeth -- but there’s two characters before that he’s useless against.

Denji has teeth.

“Sharp,” you whisper into his ear, tingles raising along his pale flesh.

“Huh…?” Denji turns to look at you, heat rising far up to his ears.

An airy, almost delirious, giggle floats into his ears as you circle the two mysteries before teeth, “Sharp,” then you circle teeth, “Teeth. Sharp teeth.”

“You like guys with sharp teeth?”

“Love ‘em.”

Denji swallows harshly, shakily pointing to the next bullet point, “What’s that mean?”

農民を尊重する.

You press ever closer towards Denji, leaning your chin on his shoulder, “‘Respects farmers.’”

“I respect farmers…” he mutters dumbly, “I love their work.”

“I know you do.”

Denji blinks down at you, his thick lashes beating on his rosying cheeks and spiky teeth punching back into his lip. His breaths are short and hard, red overtaking his cheeks like a flustered little Kewpie doll. So precious and sweet, ready to crack beneath your palms. He’d trust you wholly, and you know you’d treat him well. He knows, too. You’re nice.

You laugh at his stunned face, posture rigid. The sudden shock making his shoulder jab up into your jaw uncomfortably -- you find it terribly charming.

“I like girls…” Denji sighs out in a tremble, eyes trailing down your face, “I like girls with soft lips.”

“Do you?” you inch closer, by now long forgetting the presence of your friends and colleagues in the apartment. Teasing is fun, but teasing Denji is just the best.

“Mhm.”

After an awkward pause, Denji follows the quiet hum with,

“Can I… kiss you?”

You nod against his shoulder, chin digging down into the bone. Denji stretches his neck to kiss you -- and your lips are even softer and more sugary than he imagined. His hands scratch out to cradle you to himself, continuously parched no matter how much of you he has to drink in. Warm hands and arms around you, clinging and wrapping and pulling. Wincing from the prickle of Denji’s teeth against your lip, you cinch a hand around the chest of his shirt and wrench it towards you -- pulling Denji closer along with it.

“You like me?” he utters against your lips.

Pulling back, you flip around your paper and sear your index nail around a very recognizable word, “My ideal partner. I was a little scared to share at first…”

Denji almost jumps right off the stool, ready to coop you in his arms and swing you around fully in front of his roommates and coworkers. Instead he laughs in full disbelief to himself, reaching down to squeeze your other hand in both of his. You’re briefly concerned he’s cutting off blood flow before the joy of his pure excitement overtakes that concern.

DENJI is big and plain over the very top of the page.

“What changed your mind?”

You snicker right into his ear and reach out to flip over Denji’s paper, torn at the top, “I could tell you felt the same, pretty boy.”

Denji squeezes your hand even tighter, giggling almost feverishly before he’s sliding off the stool, “Wanna go make out in my room?”

“Thanks for having the decency to move now,” an unpleasant sneer breaks Denji’s cloudy dream-turned-reality.

“Fuck you,” Denji hisses at Aki.

“I think it’s cute!” Himeno pushes at the back of Aki’s head, “Focus on yourself!”

You let Denji drag you from the kitchen island and towards his (and Power’s, not that she’ll be allowed in for the next however many hours) room.

“So, you really think ‘m pretty?” Denji’s voice teeters just on the edge of snarky, but his skittish, red frame speaks louder.

“Prettiest,” you coo, kissing his cheek.

The affection has him seconds away from blurting out an awkward, ill-timed: You’re really my dream girl.

#denji x reader #denji fluff #csm x reader #chainsaw man x reader #denji x you #denji x fem reader

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wreckedandpolemic · 3 months

Text

forgive me? - matty healy

prompt: lovers' quarrel

(mdni) and we continue ahead with valentine75!! ok pls do not look too closely at the argument here i suck so hard at angst i cant even half ass it as a setup for porn lol

warnings: oral (f receiving), hand stuff, idk there isn't huge amounts to this

The silence in your flat is deafening, stretching between you and Matty like a chasm, your anger welling so deeply at the bottom that you want to drown him in it.

“I’m sorry?” he ventures, and you whip around to face him. The sheepish grin he wears is, admittedly, distractingly adorable; usually, it’s enough to melt you at least a little, but this time you can barely see it through your blinding anger.

You scoff. “You’re sorry, huh? Oh, well, I guess that makes it totally fucking fine, then!” You kick off your shoes with more force than necessary, sending your expensive heels skittering across the floor. “Tonight was important to me, do you even realise that? Are you so up your own arse that you think everyone wants to be on the Matty show twenty-four seven, or do you just not care?” A sense of sick satisfaction spreads as he processes your words, expression crumbling for a split-second and reforming into a sharp sort of anger that warns that Matty isn’t going to make this easy for you.

Which suits you just fine. You’ve never been one for an easy win. Never been much for losing, either. You fold your arms as Matty rounds on you. “I’m up my own arse? That’s fuckin’ rich, comin’ from you, treatin’ me like a fuckin’ toddler all night!” He’s gesticulating wildly, accent thickening through his frustration, and it takes a tremendous amount of your self-control not to laugh. “Matty, don’t touch that. Matty, don’t talk to him. Matty, come back here.” He puts on an affectation of your voice and accent that’s equal parts insulting and hilarious, and you’re lucky he doesn’t pick up on your quiet snort of laughter. “You actually said come back here! Like I’m a damn dog!”

“Dog would’ve been better behaved, probably,” you mutter. “Wouldn’t have got belligerently drunk and accosted the press, either.” Matty steps closer, breathing hard, tongue darting out to wet his lips tantalisingly. Your traitorous eyes flicker down to his mouth, soft and pink and wet and tempting, and it’s a mission to haul your mind back on track.

“I didn’t fucking ‘accost’ anyone. I told them to get the fucking cameras out of my face, ‘cos I wasn’t gonna give them a fuckin’ story at your fuckin’ event.” Matty defends, and, okay, the sentiment is there, but he had just made everything endlessly worse.

Groaning, you bury your head in your hands. “I told you. I fucking asked you, one time, just nod your head, smile, say you’re proud of me. Was that so fucking hard for you?” You hadn’t meant to admit that part. That it stung not to have his approval.

“Don’t be fucking stupid,” Matty snaps. “Of course I’m fucking proud of you. You’re a fucking star. Just wish you weren’t so embarrassed of me,” he adds, and whatever part of your anger that had crumbled at first sharpens in your chest again at his attempt to guilt-trip you.

He’s not being fair — of course you’re not embarrassed by him, but his behaviour fucking embarrassed you! “You told a fucking crowd of journalists that Jamie, who I have been on a fucking months-long press tour with, and I quote, ‘acts like a massive wanker.’ And he fucking heard you!”

Matty shrugs. “Well, he does. Don’t like the way he talks to you. Could’ve called him a rude cunt, too. Would’ve been even more true.” he mutters sullenly, scowling at the ground.

“God, Matty, you are so— mmph!” You’re cut off by him surging forward, crushing your lips together in a bruising kiss. You pull his lower lip into your mouth and bite down on it, iron spilling over your tongue as the skin tears beneath your teeth. After a long, indulgent moment, you force yourself to shove him away, gasping. “You never fucking listen! You can’t just kiss me ‘cause you don’t wanna hear it,” you snap, pushing down the heat that wells instinctively between your legs.

He’s flushed, breathing hard, unfairly gorgeous like this. “You look so pretty when you’re mad, baby,” he murmurs, tucking a wisp of hair behind your ear, the gentle touch making you shudder. He’s a master at this; resolving your arguments with doe-eyed pouts and wet, needy kisses.

Your resolve is crumbling. “Matty, don’t,” you warn feebly, lust spinning dizzily in your mind and swelling until your rational thoughts are dissolved. Matty grins, predatory — he has you pinned, and he knows it.

”My pretty girl,” he murmurs against your lips. “My little star. Forgive me?” His eyes are wide, faux-innocence shining down at you as your last thread of self-control breaks. It isn’t lost on you that he hasn’t actually apologised, but as his lips press against yours and his tongue sweeps into your mouth, you can’t remember why you care.

His mouth doesn’t leave yours as he walks you to the sofa. Your stomach swoops as he pushes you down, desire thrumming in your veins. Every last thought falls out of your head as it knocks against the armrest, your back arching up towards him. “C’monn,” you whine, reaching out to him where he stands above you, his gaze hot as it roams eagerly across your skin.

Matty climbs over you, adjusting your legs so he can kneel between them, goosebumps breaking out where he slides a hand up your thigh, agonisingly close to where you need it. “Lift your hips for me, love,” he instructs, sliding your dress up your body until a puddle of satin pools around your waist, cool and slick against your heated skin. His warm fingers crook around your panties and he drags them down your legs, exposing your dripping cunt. A soft moan escapes you as he rubs a slow circle into your clit, pressing a gentle kiss to your inner thigh. “So much better than fighting, hm?” he teases, and a flash of annoyance cuts through the lust as you remember exactly how you got into this position.

”Don’t push it,” you hiss, raking a hand through his curls and tugging harshly. He whimpers deliciously against your skin, a pulse of heat spiking deep in your bones. “I’m still mad at you,” you warn, searching your rapidly-blurring mind for your long-foregone anger.

“So take it out on me,” he murmurs, eyes fixed on your cunt, your body tingling under his gaze.

”What?” Your mind is already hazy, the sight of his head low between your thighs infinitely distracting, the promise of his tongue unfathomably tempting.

“I’m going to put my mouth on your sweet little pussy, and I’m going to listen to everything you have to say until you come. Call me names, if you want. Tell me everything I’ve ever done in my life that’s fucked you off, and I won’t say a word.” It’s such a Matty way of resolving an argument that you can’t find a response. “You get to yell at me and you get to get off. Pretty good deal if you ask me.” Matty’s smirk splashes you with a bucket of cold water, latent frustration blooming under your skin — a sudden need to slap the smugness off his face overtakes you.

You beckon him, waiting until his eyes are closed and his lips are parted, a gentle breath brushing against your mouth. He relaxes, expecting a kiss, expecting to be off the hook, and you crack a hand hard across his cheek with a grin. “God, that felt good,” you say as he recoils, rolling your eyes theatrically at his punched-out moan. “Such a fucking slut. Put your mouth to better use before I change my mind.” He shouldn’t make it so easy for you to take back the upper hand.

It’s almost comical how quickly his tongue is buried inside you, a thick pulse of heat sent kicking in your cunt. Unwilling to give him the satisfaction, you swallow a moan as you bury a hand in his curls. “Wish I could fuck your pretty mouth. Shut you up proper for once.” Matty moans into your cunt, the sound deliciously gratifying as it vibrates through you. “That’s your problem, you know,” you continue, the effort of keeping your voice level monumental against the waves of pleasure rising inside you. “You never fucking shut up. You’re— mmh, so fucking arrogant. You act like— ah!” His teeth scrape over your clit and you cry out, grinding your hips against his face as heat throbs sharply under your skin.

”Go on,” he says, grinning up at you with wet, slick lips. He hisses as you yank his curls harshly, dragging his mouth back to your cunt. He licks at you like a starving man, heat pooling in your belly, your limbs trembling and toes curling.

”You act like the fucking world revolves around you,” you continue, struggling to drag the words to the forefront of your soupy mind. “You’re so fucking— God, Matty, fuck!” you whimper, the rest of your sentence lost in the mind-numbing pleasure swirling through you. Matty isn’t playing fair, licking and sucking and kissing at you sweetly, your world blurring around him.

He pulls away and quirks an eyebrow at you, like he’s waiting for your surrender. As fucking if. You take a moment to catch your breath, fingers digging into the edge of the sofa to anchor yourself before he dips his head again, licking a broad stripe along your cunt that makes you whine pathetically at him. “You’re ridiculously pretentious,” you bite out, gasping as his tongue fucks into you in an obscene, glorious rhythm. Ecstasy coils in your limbs, your body heavy at the edge of oblivion. “Disrespectful. And you just. Don’t. Fucking. Listen.” You punctuate your last words rocking your hips against his face, your cunt fluttering around his tongue.

Matty presses wet kisses to your thighs, sweet and teasing as you whine. “Are you done?”

“Repeat it back to me,” you order as he licks his lips, framed prettily by the V of your legs. “So I know you were listening.”

“I’m irresponsible.” He kisses your inner thigh. “Arrogant. Inappropriate at the worst times.” He licks at your clit and you buck your hips against his face, fighting to hold at bay the flood of heat waiting to overwhelm you. “The people you work with think I’m white trash.”

You fist a hand in his curls, tugging hard enough that you feel him hiss in pain against your skin. “Don’t be a smartarse.”

You can sense that he’s about to argue, but thinks better of it at the last second. “I’m pretentious. Disrespectful,” he continues. “And I just.” He laps at your clit. “Don’t.” Heat floods your body as Matty slides two fingers into your sopping cunt and crooks them at an angle that has molten pleasure spilling over you. “Listen.” He sucks gently on your swollen clit, the pleasure enough to pull you over the edge, ecstasy coiling deliciously around your insides. You whimper, grinding down against his face as you come, your cunt fluttering around Matty’s tongue.

You sigh contentedly. “Good boy,” you murmur, savouring his shudder. “So good when your mouth’s full of my cunt. Like you so much better when you’re not talking.”

Matty looks up, eyes wide and face soaked with you. “Forgive me?” he asks, wearing the same sheepish grin that had failed to sway you before.

You sigh dramatically, the seeds of an idea taking shape in your mind. “Come here,” you say, a fond smile tugging at your lips. It’s a struggle to keep it from turning cruel as he takes the bait. “Silly boy.” Eagerly, Matty climbs over you, cupping your jaw and pressing his lips to yours, gently at first, turning hungry as you swallow down the taste of yourself. He moans into your mouth, grinding his clothed cock against your sensitive core. “Needy, are you?” you tease, a faint edge of danger lacing your tone. “Want me to get you off?” Glassy-eyed, he nods down at you, sweet and pleading. “Use your words.”

He swallows thickly, blinking hard. “Want you to make me cum,” Matty murmurs, casting his eyes down like he’s ashamed. You raise an eyebrow when his gaze lands back on your face, and he adds a reluctant, “Please.”

Sliding out from under him, you lead him into your bedroom, laughing derisively as he strips out of his jeans and boxers before the door even shuts. “God, you’re pathetic,” you scoff, smirking as his eager expression falters slightly with the realisation you haven’t let him off the hook.

“Mhmm,” Matty agrees, switching tack and plying you with sweet doe eyes.

“Get on the bed,” you order, kneeling in his lap when he obeys. His hands wander to the hem of your dress, brushing over your thighs as he starts to lift it, and you swat him away. “Think you deserve to fuck me after the way you acted today?” You glare down at him, pulling at his hair to tip his head up towards you. After a long moment, his internal war clear on his face, Matty shakes his head mutely. “No. But you’re being good now, so…”

Matty inhales sharply when you wrap your hand around his cock, flushed and sticky with want. You pump him slowly, spreading precum over him, and he trembles with the effort of holding himself still, sweetly pliant under your hand. “Thank you,” he mumbles, swallowing thickly.

You lean down to press your lips against his, swallowing his needy, suppressed moans. “It’s okay, baby. Being so good. Can fuck my hand if you need to.” You’re being cruel, now, knowing how you’re going to leave him, but it’s sickly thrilling having him in your power like this.

Murmured thanks fall from his lips between sweet little whines, his hips bucking into your fist as his cock leaks over your skin. Languidly, you press your tongue into his mouth, trading long, sloppy kisses broken up by Matty’s pleasured moans.

Taking Matty apart under your skilled hands is easy, now; you’re practised in everything he likes. You dig your thumb into his slit, twist your wrist just so, swallow every sweet noise he makes. His body tenses, his groans deepening, turning rhythmic, signalling his orgasm. You let him chase his release up until the very last second, pulling away and smirking meanly down at him.

Confusion clouds across Matty’s face as he looks up at you, reeling from his ruined orgasm as if you’ve slapped him. You let him catch his breath before you take him in your hand again, working over him, pulling him to the edge again. “Do you have anything to say, baby?”

Matty’s mouth falls open, the struggle to pull any meaning from your words plain on his face. “Please?” he tries, face falling when you shake your head, a moan escaping him as you flick your thumb over his slit. “Thank you,” he mumbles thickly. “I love you.”

You cock your head, appraising him. “That’s nice. But not quite. Try to think a little bit harder, yeah? I know that’s tough when I’ve got you all stupid for me, but try,” you croon, tone sympathetic and deriding all at once.

Matty’s face scrunches in concentration. “‘M sorry!” he chokes out, whining when you press a kiss to the head of his cock.

“That’s it,” you breathe, kissing him softly in reward. “Good boy.” Arousal coils in your belly at the sight of him, breaking into a thoughtless mess under your hands. You stroke over his cock a few times more, watching his stomach tense and relax as his orgasm builds. Then you stop, letting him whine desperately into your mouth.

He hasn’t wised to your game, still hopeful through his lust-hazy gaze. “You embarrassed me today,” you chide. “Why?” You dip your head, lapping over the tip of his cock, letting him thrust into your mouth, a spit trail connecting your skin for a brief moment. You kiss the salt of him back into his mouth, devouring his desperate moans as you stroke him. “I asked you a question,” you murmur against his lips.

There’s an answer forming on his tongue, you can see, watching him struggle to swallow it down. You pull away, lifting your hand to lap the taste of him off your fingers, giving an exaggerated moan. Matty whimpers, desperate, hips rocking against nothing as you batter against his defences. A burst of pleasure licks up your spine when you drag your fingers through your still-soaked cunt. Matty’s answering moan as you wrap your wet fingers around his cock is nothing short of pathetic, low and thick with lust. Clicking your tongue disapprovingly, you repeat your question, the ensuing silence thick with the unsaid. You know the answer, but it’s no fun not to pry it out of him. “I was jealous, okay!” he gasps out.

He won’t meet your eyes, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Aw, I know,” you croon sympathetically. Your touches turn tender, coaxing. “It’s okay, baby. Don’t need to be jealous. Don’t want anyone but you. I’m yours, yeah?” you promise, lifting his head to deliver your words into his shadowed eyes.

“Mine,” he echoes faintly, rolling his hips up into your hand and whining. Your thighs clench at his possessive tone; you love being his, being the only one who gets to have him like this. “Gonna cum, fuck, please let me cum, fuck!” The last syllable crumbles into a sob as you pull away, ruining him for the final time. “‘M sorry, ‘M sorry, please let me cum,” he whimpers, so sweetly pathetic that you almost want to let him cum.

Almost. Matty’s chest heaves, struggling for breath and sanity as you climb off him, smoothing your dress down nonchalantly. Pouting down at him, you click your tongue condescendingly. “Poor baby. You don’t get to cum tonight, okay? How are you gonna learn a lesson if I give you what you want now?”

He gasps, chokes, twitching as he fights to stay still. “Please?” he murmurs, so quiet that you aren’t sure whether he’s addressing it to you or subconsciously voicing his need.

Either way, you shake your head at him with a shrug. “Get control of yourself and we can watch a movie, yeah?”

Matty gives a shuddering nod as you turn to leave, squaring your shoulders so you don’t look back at him.

After a few minutes, Matty slopes into the living room, dressed but still looking fucked-out, hair wild and eyes downcast. You rest your head in his lap when he comes to sit beside you, smiling blithely and uncaringly up at him.

“Are you still mad?” he ventures, petting your hair tentatively.

“Depends,” you answer, feeling his body tense at your words “Are you gonna pull that shit again?”

“No,” he replies without hesitation, shuddering at the thought of what you just put him through

“Then no,” you grin, and Matty relaxes under you. “But you still don’t get to cum,” you can’t resist adding.

He pouts down at you, but his eyes are shining with mischief, any lingering tension fully faded now. “Can I make you come again, then?”

Sitting up, you climb into his lap and kiss him for a long, luxurious moment, heat swelling between you as his tongue slides against yours. “Say please.”

#'fuck' count: approx. 35 #matty healy #matty healy x reader #matty healy smut #matty healy imagine #the 1975 #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 smut #writing #smut #valentine75

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