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whosjunglejim4322 · 1 year

Text

Saccharine - E.M

Warnings ® smut! Fluff, soft bf Eddie<3, first time sex as a couple! Nasty IN LOVE smut bc this bitch is a hopeless romantic! Eddie is super sensitive, Established relationship, you stroke his dick, Eddie almost cums in his pants, lil bit of dry humping, this is incredibly self indulgent but u didn't hear that from me, overly descriptive bc why not

You shouldn't be nervous, really. It's just Eddie, who is your boyfriend of three months and twenty-six days. Who is sitting across from you on his creaky mattress criss-cross style, your knees touching. Your Eddie, who has two big hands flailing in the air as he goes on about the recent campaign, broad mouth etched into a whimsical smile, big eyes wondrous and full of excitement for the tale.

The bed bounces with his enthusiasm, and you draw closer to him with each syllable.

Your Eddie, who is doing nothing out of the ordinary, and who is as beautiful as ever in loose fitting plaid pyjama bottoms and a tattered black tee that exposes half of his collarbone and smudges of black ink - he doesn't even have to try, and perhaps these simple mundane realizations are what cause the flutter of wings in the pit of your stomach.

"And then Mike - hey, you okay?"

If it weren't for his vast change in expression, you truly wouldn't have realized what a trance you're in. Between the furrow of his unkempt brows and the amused but curious tilt at the corner of his mouth, you come back to earth. The weight of gravity settles in your bone marrow, as his calloused thumb quickly strokes your chin as if to remind you he is still here.

"I - yeah yeah, sorry I just," you grab his hand by the heaviness of his wrist, dragging it into your lap so you can stroke the back of his rough knuckles. "got distracted s'all."

Your eyes divert to where your fingers are joined and the sound of his airy, through-the-nose chuckle has more heat blossoming behind your ribcage, nudging at your organs.

"I'll stop with the D&D talk, know you hear enough about it from the kids. There's only so much dorkiness you should be subjected to, y'know?"

It's lighthearted, he's smirking and looking down at you with enough palpable fondness the apples of your cheeks feel like they're being stroked by a flame. Still, the implication that he may be bothering you in any way has an urgency filling your eyes. You shake your head.

"No, no that never bothers me Eds, don't be silly." The nickname makes his mouth dry, still, after three months and twenty-six days. You finally meet his glance. "You're just handsome, really handsome especially when you're talking about something you're passionate about and I just...yeah."

It's word vomit, messy and you feel like it makes no sense but then he squeezes your hand and you know that he reads between the nervous mumbo jumbo - you have no clue how you make him feel, do you?

"You're fucking cute." He breathes out earnestly, smoothing his grip upwards to your forearms and pulling you forward with minimal effort - right onto the stirdiness of his lap.

Your giddiness is the perfect portrait, your arms finding a resting place atop his broad shoulders. Curls tickle the tops of your arms and your wrists, and your thighs brace your frame by the slim of his taut waist. He can't help it, the giggles escaping his throat. The proximity is intoxicating for no reason at all.

"Can't believe this is our first time spending the night together, I'm so used to falling asleep on the phone with you that it really doesn't feel all that different." He smooths your hair out of your eyes, tucks it behind your left ear.

I get to touch her like this, he thinks to himself. His chest jostles underneath the muscle and bone.

"Yeah, except I get to fall asleep with you'n my arms, wake up with you in em' too. I'm one lucky son of a bitch, hmm?"

He's practically thinking out loud, but he's too far gone to feel shame. When you nuzzle your face against the warm nook of his neck, wet lips smiling against the flesh, his encapsulating arms squeeze you impossibly tighter. He buries his nose against the top of your head, inhaling the fresh scent of your shampoo. Your cheek grazes the side of his jaw as you meet him face to face, nose to nose.

He sees you trying to formulate words, a sentence, even a sound but none of it seems like a totally accurate way to express the adoration threatening to consume you from the inside out. You graze his cheek with your mouth, slowly, tentatively, and he hangs on with half an air full of lungs.

You suckle his bottom lip and he sighs into your mouth, the relief making him lightheaded. He kicks into gear and pushes back with an overlap of his mouth - hands wandering over the small of your back, to your soft lovehandles and upwards until his fingrtips have passed your jugular and he's holding your face as tenderly as you're holding his.

It's now, when you feel it - the growing firmness beneath he thin material of his bottoms. He tries to keep it at bay but it's damn near impossible, and the whimper, the fucking whimper you let out when his soft tongue touches yours from the warm cavern of your mouth - he couldn't stop it from twitching even if he wanted to. He's only a man.

And you're a menace. As new as this is, your body reacts to the prod in between your legs, underneath your crotch. You press yourself tighter to his frame, hips scooching against his hard-on in the process and he stiffens.

"Mmm, baby baby..." your pout is immediate when he breaks from your mouth, brows furrowed and lips a kiss bitten fuschia. For a moment, you think you've taken it too far too fast - he's stopped you from moving completely. Your whole body burns with a tingly sensation somewhere between shame and the aftershocks of arousal.

"Are you...are you okay? Did I do something wrong?"

You sound so sweet, it makes his lower belly ache among other things. He stifles a laugh brcause he knows it will only make you feel worse. Something wrong. Something wrong.

"Fuck no, I-sorry I just uh...almost..." He can't bring himself to say it, you guys haven't even been kissing for five whole minutes and here he is about to blow his load. When you realize how close his dark lashes are from kissing his cheeks, how his pupils have almost turned the whole of his irises onyx, you connect the dots.

Woah, you did that to him? That moth in your belly threatens to take flight, and without much thought, your mouth is moving before you can stop it.

"I wanna see."

Those are the only words your brain allows you to spit out. His chest has gone still, and you feel that twitch against your center again. Your thighs have begun to tremble.

"You wanna see...? My cock?" He shouldn't sound so incredulous. You're his girlfriend for christ's sake, but you are important to him. More important than he ever thought anyone could be, and so he has kept his lust at a minimum of 48% when he's around you for the most part. Save for intense makeout sessions.

"Yeah, I wanna...well I wanna know how to make you feel good."

He's worried for a moment that he's having another wet dream, but he's sure this is real life because he feels how warm you are against him and you are so close he can see his own reflection in your eyes. You toy with the shell of his ear and a chill ascends his spine.

"Sweetheart if you touch me m'not gonna last long." His skin is pink and scarlet, and he's gotten at least ten degrees hotter judging by the heat billowing off of the back of his neck. His adams apple bobs when he swallows.

"That's okay, really it is. You have nothing to be embarrassed about....I like it. Like that I make you feel that way. " You rake your fingers through the front of his hair, pushing it away from his pretty face. He checks your eyes again, needing confirmation.

"Are you sure? You don't have to do anything you don't want to." He gnaws on the inside of his plush mouth, tries to calm the animal inside of him that wants to fuck your brains out right now. He almost feels guilty just thinking about it, until you lean over to peck the side of his stubbly chin, fingertips grazing his taut belly.

"Yes, really wanna."

There is a curious, nervous anticipation in the crinkle underneath your eyes.

"Kay' baby, explore all you want." The boyish smirk he gives is enough to have that knee buckling tingling sensation coming back full force as he presents himself to you like this. Does he seem as pulled together and totally not overly nervous as he thinks he does? Probably not.

His arms depart from your body, ribs expanding as he reclines on his palms. Tendons flex and stretch underneath the black bats and fuzzy layer of hair atop his forearm. You swallow, intimidated by the beauty of the boy.

You find the courage to finally move off of his lap so that you can take him all in, and the bulge of his cock swipes the underside of your thigh as you slide off.

You don't know where to touch first. That's a lie, your hands almost instinctively slip underneath the hem of his old shirt, where that dark thatch of hair trails under his belly button. He's soft, so soft it's unreal, he is velvet and delicious scarring and beauty marks. His tummy convulses underneath your hand.

He watches you with complete fixation. You have your bottom lip tucked between your teeth and you don't even realize it, all perched and pretty in front of him. He closes his eyes when you explore his sides, over the planes and arches and past the small stretch marks by his chest.

You can't ignore it anymore, the tent that has formed at his crotch and continues to throb with each passing touch.

The blunt of your nails rake down the soft plaid covering thick thighs, and he takes this sharp breath that has you glancing up at him with heavy eyes.

"So pretty...Eds you're so pretty." You say it ardently, your voice small and weak. An arm reaches down, strong but gentle as he strokes the back of your plush cheek with his ring covered knuckles.

"Can't fucking believe...can't believe you're mine, finally. Shit." He's almost murmuring to himself again, on the verge of cardiac arrest. Maybe he's losing his mind, maybe this is heaven.

Then your palm presses against the thick of his cock where it's bulging out, and his thighs spasm.

"Oh, oh." He's all curses and praises, giving you encouraging glances each time you look up at him to silently ask for guidance. You move your hand up and down what you assume is his shaft, and he keeps his hips from bucking into your touch. He feels thick, and the back of your mouth starts to water.

Without warning you're hooking your fingers into his waistband, and he lifts his hips in compliance so that you can pull them down to his mid thigh. He has no time for nerves anymore. Any fear he previously had about what his dick looks like, or what you'll think of it, is stripped along with his clothing. You're looking at him with too much love for him to be insecure - and that takes him by surprise the most.

At this point his checkered boxers are just in the way, and you take it upon yourself to pull those down too. A thud hits his belly.

And really, you should've known. He's big. Not because he's impossibly long, his size is above average but he's thick - the tip iridescent with precum, the same shade of plum as his lips underneath the slick sheen. He is slightly curved upwards, a prominent vein decorating the underside parallel to his frenulum. It's pretty, just like the rest of him. He's neatly trimmed, which is the most surprising part if you're honest - but nothing about Eddie could ever be displeasing to look at.

Your mouth is parted with this expression of surprise, and Eddie almost can't believe what this is doing for his ego.

"Woah." Is all you say, transfixed when you reach out to grasp the appendage. He hisses through his teeth when your small hand finally grasps it, so fucking warm and so gentle it's almost maddening. You both feel it, the invisible weight that has settled in his small, messy room.

The weight of being alone, together, all night and all of tomorrow afternoon while his uncle Wayne is away on a business trip that is probably more lucrative than what he leads on - but Wayne has never been one to boast or speak about things like that out loud. Says it'll jinx the whole thing.

The feeling hits you first, as you find this foreign courage to lean over and dribble spit over the slit of his cock. He gasps, watching the glob of saliva drip down the front of his dick till it's soaking into the curls at his pubic mound.

"Is this okay?" You already know the answer but you ask anyways, taking more pride than you should at the expression on the pretty metalheads face. He nods his head fervently, unable to respond right away.

You twist your palm, spreading your spit further until his whole head is covered and you're able to stroke him with no resistance.

"Fuuuck, yes. Yeah, that's so good baby." He's panting as you begin to properly jerk the tip of him off, the sounds in the room too lewd for you to handle. A squelchy feeling has developed between your thighs, led by each filthy groan that leaves your boyfriend's throat.

Then you're looking at him through fluttery lashes and a gone expression, with your chest rising and falling almost as rapidly as his and thick fingers grasp your wrist quickly, rougher than anticipated.

"Sorry, just - close."

Seeing his hand blanket yours over his cock is doing something to you. You know his palms like your own, hold them more than you look at your own, and yet right now such a sweet thing has never been more provocative.

"Shh, no more apologizing," you lean over and he meets you in the middle. The kiss is sloppy this time, evidence of the maddening desire taking him over from the inside out.

"Not fair," his voice is strained through your mouths ministrations. "Got me all worked up and you're sitting there neglected." He smiles and his tongue strokes your bottom lip. You shudder as that heat comes in an overwhelming wave.

He's gripping the back of your neck now, properly hungry and your hand continues its ministrations between your bodies, that wet sound prompting a shared groan from the both of you - intensifying the feeling. His nose is scrunched against your cheek from the vigour of his kisses.

"You can undress me."

He doesn't waste time once you've granted him verbal permission, and with an exhale you're being tipped over onto your back, breathing in the weight of him as nimble and eager fingers pull his tee shirt over and off your body.

"Jesus," He whines, and you're captivated by the look on his face. It's impossible not to feel flustered.

"Can I-" you don't let him finish.

"Yes, please touch me." You're just as fucked as he is, arching your chest upwards and into the warm, all encompassing mass of his palm. He stifles a groan, cock bobbing up and down in the space between you two, dribbling with a bead of pre arousal. You feel like you're losing your mind.

Eddie short circuits for about five whole seconds flat, and he can't concentrate. He makes a bee - line to your chest, plush lips sucking your swollen nipples into his mouth. A gasp and a pulse of your poor clit later, and your fingers delve into his curls like they'll keep you here in this moment forever.

He's sloppy, moving between the valley of your breasts to the other one, leaving trails of spit across your flesh.

"Eddie, that - that feels so good, can't - mmph." You're a mess. How are you such a mess? He's a phantom, a head of hair across your sternum until he glances up at you with saliva soaked lips and red cheeks and a sweaty forehead.

"Sweet girl, oh god I can't believe..." All you taste is him, the words being uttered between the space when he forces himself to breathe. "can't believe you're all mine, wanna make you feel so fucking good. Give you anythin' you want."

He lies his full weight on you, and through the thin sleeping shorts you've got on, his cock beckons you with throbs and weeps. You feel drunk off of him, every sense surrounded by Eddie. Eddie. Eddie.

His shampoo from two days ago, the old spice lingering under his arms, the natural scent of his skin, the sweetness of his breath and the perspiration that's formed in little beads on his upper lip. He's all but devouring you, lust and admiration for the angel beneath him taking over any sense of importance regarding anything else.

Your heels dig into the back of his bum, knees pulling inward so that his hips come clashing into yours. Your fingernails claw on the material covering his back, taking it upon themselves to pull it over his head. He's beaming like a kid in a candy store at your eagerness, eyes all crinkly underneath.

"Want me to grab a rubber now?" He mumbles between the sloppy kisses, hoping you can't hear the hitch in his throat at the prospect of this finally happening.

"Mhmm, yes." It feels just as surreal for you.

He whines as he departs, reaching over across your head to pull open his bedside drawer and ungracefully tear open the new box of condoms. His eyebrows are furrowed, arms flexing with intensity from his excitement. He groans out of frustration, and you giggle, grasping his thick forearm.

"Let me help baby." You reach in the drawer for him and pull the box out, finishing the rip he'd made and pulling out a metallic row of squares. You tear one at the perforation and hand it to him, grinning at the entire situation. He huffs and rests his forehead between the valley of your breasts.

"What would I do without you?" He mutters, matching your expression when he lifts his head back up and pushes forward to kiss you on the tip of your nose.

"Not have sex, I suppose." You bite back with no hint of malice, only an insurmountable level of love and he sees it shimmering everywhere around you. His girl. His.

"You're somethin' else, sweetheart." He mouths the side of your face, across your jaw and underneath your ear.

You feel like you're in a psychological limbo, in a world between consciousness as he sits back on his haunches and lifts his shirt off of his body from the back of his collar. That may be a dramatic sentiment to many, but it's fitting.

He does it so casually, throws his shirt to the side with the rest of discarded clothing and stray items that live on his bedroom floor. You feel weak in the knees when he tears the condom package and pulls out the slippery rubber, unraveling it before bringing it down to his cock.

You watch his face the way his pink tongue darts out and nips the tip of his tongue, brows furrowed in concentration and arousal as he fits the condom down his thick shaft. You watch his biceps twist, his taut abdomen clench, the black ink coming alive with the ministrations of his muscles underneath.

When he meets your eyes again, you look completely overtaken with desire, eyelids heavy and breath bated. Your pebbled nipples stand at full attention, mimicking his dick and Eddie hooks his fingers underneath those infuriatingly sexy shorts of yours so that he can get rid of them.

You're not wearing underwear. Of course you aren't. Your entire existence is specifically designed to test the bounds of his composure, of his strength. The gold room lighting from his lamp illuminates your body and your shy thighs only part when he's placing his palms between them, slowly encouraging them to allow him a peek or two.

You reach out to stroke his arms as he separates your legs, his jaw hanging ever so slack, cock twitching just a few centimeters away from your opening.

"Fucking hell...you're so goddamn pretty." He strains, swallowing hard as he touches you with hesitant hands, as if he's scared to break you. Your hips lift, just enough to make contact with the tip of his dick and you whine. It's a sound so sweet he almost whimpers himself.

"Please, Eds. I want you inside of me. Please."

His stomach tightens and he crawls over you once again, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

He maintains eye contact, breath fanning your mouth as he slips an arm between your bodies and grips his shaft, lining it up with your entrance. Your thighs lift towards your chest, ankles stationed at his waist, and you feel the welcome intrusion of his tip as it passes your slick labia.

You both take a breath in, your fingers needing a vice and moving to the back of his neck as he pivots his hips forward and slips himself into the tightness of your cunt. The stretch causes you to hiss, both in pleasure and pain.

"You okay? Let me know if I need to stop." He grunts, kissing your chin.

"M'okay, don't you dare stop."

His eyelids flutter in tandem with yours, a choked moan leaving his throat as he continues to push himself in, till he's nudging against the soft roundness of your cervix and his balls are resting against your ass.

It feels right. Having him this deep, this close.

You shudder nuzzling your face against the bicep that holds him up. You kiss the skin there and he groans, dragging himself back out and then back in. Your whole body jostles with the movement.

"Jesus Christ, how do you feel s'fucking good? I don't - I can't, fuck." He's a slur of words, beginning to form a steady rhythm. Your moans are more like squeaks the faster he goes, increasing the lewd, sticky sounds between your legs that squelch with each drag and pull of his cock.

"Eddie...E-eddie." Your words are hiccuped from the impact, his hair dangling in your face, tickling your cheeks. His belly is pressed right against yours, the curls at the mound of his pelvis pressed against yours. He lets out this pained sound and goes to bury his face in the crook of your neck.

"My name, fuck say it again. Say it again." It's muffled but you can hear it right underneath your ear, his lips a soft vibration against your flesh. You feel so full, it's hard to speak at all. To say anything other than his name. So you recite it like it's the only words you know.

"Eddie Eddie Eddie Eddie." They're all punctuated with a whimper that starts from your diaphragm and crawls it's way out of your throat, pistoned by his hips and their grueling ministrations. Skin against skin can be heard from down the park, you're convinced, with how he's fucking you.

Eddie is fucking you. Your boyfriend, Eddie, is fucking you.

"Ohhhh, god, please." You cry out, heels digging into his back, hands splayed across the broad expanse of his shoulder blades. Every breath that passes his lips is followed by a grunt, a groan, a sound that is so close to agony and even closer to toe curling pleasure.

Each stroke of his cock inside of you feels like a pull into his being, and you get frustrated with the fact that you can't see his face, tugging at the back of his neck.

When you look up at the boy above you, reality, for once, feels like the most beautiful thing you've ever endured.

He's flushed, all sweat and shades of pink and red. His eyes are glassy, mirroring yours in the way that it almost looks like he could shed a tear. You move his sticky bangs from his forehead and Eddie is sucker punched in the gut with a wave of adoration.

"Oh, sweetheart," he leans down, slowing his thrusts so that he can kiss you steadily, purposefully. Somehow he feels deeper this way impossibly so, and he nips your bottom lip when you flutter around him. "didn't mean to...to not show you attention m'sorry, just...you feel so good. S'like heaven."

He's half sober half drunk on your pussy and it's so fucking endearing. Neither of you can make out a coherent sentence.

"Keep - keep going, just like that, ohhh." You glance down between your bodies and somewhere behind your organs a warmth, teetering unbearable, flutters throughout your limbs. His arms shake with the fight to hold himself up, until he doesn't anymore, and slips his hands underneath you till they're sandwiched between the mattress and your back. Snug, safe, he engulfs you.

His thrusts are deep and slow now, meaningful instead of mindless bunny fucking. Which, he's not opposed to, but you're you. He wants to fuck you like he might not ever get the chance to again.

"I love you, I love you." He whimpers against the crook of your shoulder. You hold him with the same ferocity that he's holding you, staring up at the ceiling and the stars that blanket your vision instead of the fan above.

"I love you too, fuck, Eddie."

He makes this noise, it's almost pathetic. Petulant. That coil holding you tight, snaps and all at once you're gasping, thighs a deadly grip around his waist.

"Cu-Cumming, I'm cumming." Your walls flex and spasm around his length and Eddie thinks he might pass out. You're still twitching and whining his name with his balls are emptying, when he's spurting into the condom, nudging your cervix.

"Fuck, fuck just like tha- ohhh fuck." He thrusts like he's fucking his cum into you, like he's filling your womb up and making you his forever. He made you cum. He's never felt this high before, and he's a fucking drug dealer.

It's a mixture of panting and the thud of your shared heartbeat for what feels like eternity and one split second. You feel his lips peppering soft, gentle kisses along your jugular, and your fingers trace lines up and down his warm back as his cock softens inside of you.

He rubs his cheek against you, and your fingers pull his hair away from his pretty face. He's looking at you with so much love you could burst again.

"I love you so much." He speaks tenderly, softly, for once. It's scary and breathtaking all at once. The tip of his nose rubs yours, your smiles a reflection of the other.

"I love you too, Munson."

And you do. You really fucking do.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #joseph quinn #stranger things #stranger things x reader #joseph quinn x reader #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson has my heart

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inkdrinkerworld · 9 months

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for soft beefy!james... he’s so the type to cry when you cry. like you come to him in tears and immediately he’s pulling you into his lap and cradling your face in his big hands, using his thumbs to brush away your tears and asking you what happened... getting teary when you sob even if it’s over something frivolous bc it hurts his heart. idk if this is anything, feel free to just ignore but i love the way you write your beefy!james <3

oh my goodness!! this is perfect!!! mention of hate from super fans of rugby but not descriptive

he's just come back from training when he hears the hiccupping breath. it's not often that james is greeted with your tears and he feels his chest constrict at the sound of them.

"angel?" he calls, toeing off his shoes as he ventures further into the living room for you.

you're laying on your side, face halfway smushed into a pillow as your body shakes with your sobs.

"angel, what's wrong?" he asks, dropping to his knees before you. james' hands are gentle where they wipe away the racing tears.

he can feel his own emotions rising, feeling the pinpricks of tears pooling behind his eyes.

you heave a breath, clearly trying to speak. james gives you time, "m'not-" you pause, inhaling deeply, "saw that stupid advert, the one with the dogs in the shelter."

james coos, picking you up easily and fitting you in his lap as he sits on the floor. you twist in his lap and say, "m'gross jamie, got tears and snot all over my face."

james manages a laugh, though it's not his usual one. "no you don't," he kisses your tear stained cheek. "you sure the advert was the only thing?"

his hand rubs your back, waiting for your answer. you deliberate while you twist at the hem of his shirt. "saw the messages under that post," james knows which one you're talking about instantly. "s'not very nice."

james feels the pinpricks again and nudges your face with his nose. "want me to do something about it?" he knows you're a big girl, that you can handle your own battles, but james hates the ideas that some of the teams' fans can be vile.

"no no," your tone is firm. james still wants to fight it though, he wants to let is be known that it isn't alright. "it'll pass right?" you ask, eyes shining with unshed tears as you look up at james.

"course it will," he kisses your forehead, fishing his phone from his pocket.

"jamie, what are you doing?" you yawn through the words and james knows that if he doesn't get up now, you're both going to remain on the floor during your nap.

"making sure you're okay, angel." he selects a photo of you from his camera roll- one of you in his team's hoodie as you watch the game at home.

"can i?" he asks, just to be sure. your nod is hesitant. a kiss is pressed to the column of his throat in thanks.

it's a picture that his mum had taken the last time he had an away game that you couldn't go to.

'biggest supporter, biggest love xx' is the caption, james kissing your teary face one last time before standing up.

"let's go take a nap, angel;" he holds you to his chest as he walks to the room. "i love you." you kiss him, soft and slow, and a little sticky from where your tears have met his dry cheeks.

"i love you too, jamie."

#beefy!james #beefy!james potter #rugby!james #jamespotter #james potter #james potter fanfiction #james potter one shot #james potter imagine #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter drabble #james potter blurb #james potter x black!reader #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x yn

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007reid · 7 months

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u have absolutely no idea what 'coffee caramels' did to me omg 😭 u write spencer and his mannerisms so WELL hsbsghdbdh so i come to u with a lil request if that's okay with u !!

spencer insists on playing pretend-doctor for reader who's sick (but denying it) so he invokes his technically-a-doctor card and gives his second opinion just to take care of reader n smother them w looooove

essentially just him teasing y/n and being the stupid Cute attentive nerd he is <3

(inspired by S5E3 where he gets stuck at the bau w garcia bc he was being stubborn abt his injury)

i am never ever Normal abt this guy 😞 i look forward to reading more of ur work and losing my mind over reid with u, aine !! mwa

hiii tysm for requesting, youre so fucking sweet!! <33 drop an emoji to let me know who you are and let’s loose our mind over our fav boy together anon!!!! also sorry this took so long, i wrote like 3k but then hated it so i started over, i love this prompt sm so i feel like i had to do it justice.

pspspsp i love s5 spence so fucking much... his hair went from beautiful to ethereal to mad sexy...s5 treated us well. requests are ALWAYS appreciated !!!!!!

soup. spencer reid

spencer reid x fem!reader, 3k

you've been off it for so long, dodging virus after virus and disease after disease and just right when you thought that you are immune to sickness, you caught it. the inevitable fever.

there was no denying it, you've tried. after getting a headache, you popped a tylenol before you went to sleep, nonchalant. the next morning was when reality really came crashing down. a sore throat.

it progressively got worse throughout the day, and when you came crashing into bed after a long day at work, your nose was feeling stuffy and your were coughing, spewing sickness everywhere you went. you woke up in the middle of night sweating like you had just ran a fucking marathon and only able to breathe through one nostril unless you shift your body entirely.

you did not take to these news well. firmly in denial, you still planned to show up to work the next day.

except you didn't show up to work. sickly and delirious, the part when you press snooze then snooze again slip your mind and at one point you must've turn off your alarm entirely. drifting in and out of consciousness and slipping into dream after dream, it gets harder to tell what is real and what is not.

"y/n? y/n!"

now, it is very probable that the voice isn’t actually real, because why the hell would you be hearing spencer reid’s voice outside of work? the chances are slim to none, and despite the heat pounding at your skull you manage to smile. there is something unexplainably comforting about spencer’s voice, soft and deliberate. it would be foolish to say that under the mad spell he’d cast on you (him simply saying two words) he’s managed to melt away your headache, because he didn’t. you still feel like shit.

“y/n?”

you frown, the voice sounding too insistent and real and not matching up with the visuals of your dream. you feel a tapping on your shoulder and when you blink your eyes open you could’ve screamed.

you jump up and then backwards, huddling your blanket with you, scared for your life. because right in front of you is perhaps the most intimidating creature on the earth; spencer reid in a purple sweater vest with his face so close to yours he could breathe in your sickness, hair tucked carefully behind his ear.

“spencer?” you ask incredulously, but instead your voice comes out a rasp. you clear your throat, feeling something warm creep up your cheek. it might be a blush, but you blame it on the chills. you keep blinking, trying to regain your vision and feel instantaneous embarrassment. you look a mess, sick and dehydrated with dry lips and bad hair and you probably reek of morning breath. and spencer’s there, looking like heaven’s finest angel, smiling at you like he’s smiling at a person and not a monster. spencer has the tendency to treat and look at everyone like they’re the love of his life. you sort of hate it.

“hi y/n,” he breathes, crouching down on the floor before you on the bed. “i—“

“what are you doing here?” you’re too impatient to wait, still in shock.

now. you try not to make it obvious that you have a mad crush on spencer, because if the fact were to spill, you’re not eager cleaning up the consequences. it’s an unestablished, unspoken rule that should be common sense that no workplace dating will be allowed and usually it’s a ridiculous rule, because who the hell would want to date their coworker, like actually? work crushes are normal but they exist only in a part of your day, an eye-candy for you to stare at to get through the day, then you go home or go out and forget about them. who actually has serious work crushes, actually? actually? it’s ridiculous.

your defense is completely solid, you’d say. your number one defense is you can’t help the fact that you and spencer were meant to be friends. the moment you joined the team, you and spencer clicked together like two lego pieces, despite your clashing personalities. you find it refreshing to have someone like spencer, someone who’s soft and sweet but cunning and resourceful but thoughtful and kind, and it was equally refreshing for spencer to have someone blunt and straightforward but still patient enough to put up with him.

spencer doesn’t like physical touch but ever since your first week he made you the exception and if you could, you would parade the privilege around like a badge. what can you say, you’re proud to be spencer’s little exception, anyone would be. he makes you feel special, differently than the others do and what’s a girl to do? to have that great of a relationship with a coworker and not be work spouses and not be actually head over heels with the guy? how laughable.

it’s not something you’re proud of, however. you know it’s a lost cause, chasing after spencer. it hurts, sometimes, but you always patted yourself on the back with an ‘it is what it is.’ spencer, as sweet and vulnerable as he is, has layers behind his thinly veiled heart. he talks a lot but he never talks about himself and he never talks about the past so he doesn’t have to revive it, so all the memories are just wounds left out and neglected to burn. spencer’s trouble, definitely trouble, but it’s hard to be aware of the workload that spencer reid is when he’s rambling to you about something as innocent as halloween or knocking his knuckles on your knee during a flight trying to get your attention.

spencer blinks sheepishly, settling criss cross apple sauce on the ground, lanky legs twisting uncomfortably. “you didn’t come into work and you didn’t answer your phone,” he explains. “emily told me to go check on you.”

you nod. he’s here because emily told him to. it makes a lot more sense now. “i’ll head in the office now,” you say, making your way out of bed, wiping at your eyes. “sorry—“

“no you’re not,” spencer says immediately, not even hesitating. he places a hand on your upper chest, pressing you back down on the bed. the butterflies at the pit of your stomach throws a fit. you know he means nothing by the action—has spencer reid ever been the one knowledgeable about romance?—but knowing that doesn’t help the heat that spread up your cheeks that’s definitely not from the sickness. “you’re burning up,” he says. “i’ll get you some water. you should clean up,” he says, uncrossing his legs difficultly and then stumbling out the room, mismatched socks slipping on the hardwood floor.

you take advantage of the time that spencer’s not there and race to the bathroom, ignoring the blackout and the dizziness that threatens to make you faint from getting up too abruptly. you squirt some toothpaste onto your toothbrush and by the time you exit the bathroom, spencer is already there, waiting, except he’s by your desk, hands on a book.

typical.

he perks up when he hears your footsteps pad into the room, turning around, looking like a child who’s been caught with your book in his hands. you smile at him, albeit it’s a pathetic smile. you feel dizzy.

“you like toni morrison?”

“i love toni morrison,” spencer chirps, excitement bouncing all over his face. “especially her masterwork, beloved,” he looks back down at your red copy admiringly then sets it down. "get back in bed," he says, and you can't wrap your hand around how ridiculous the situation is. your coworker, or work crush, is at your house, checking your temperature and shooing you to bed to rest. "i bought you soup so you can eat up, i--"

“you bought me soup?” you ask, incredulous. spencer nods seriously.

“it's proven that eating soup makes people feel better, not just some stereotype. the right amount of sodium can help help relieve sore throat pains and the vitamins and minerals found in soup can play a very large part in recovery...i had a feeling you were going to be sick, it’s the weather, you know? everyone is catching the cold. you need to eat it before it gets cold, the heat helps with nasal digestion and also sinus pressure and it'll be useless if you ate it lukewarm...i’ll be right back…” and with the babbling his voice fades out as he walks back out to the living room, leaving you alone standing on the side of your bed. you look at the forgotten copy of beloved set carefully back onto your desk, smiling to yourself slightly before climbing back into bed, because spencer says so and spencer’s always right but mostly because your legs feel like they’re going to give out.

spencer is speedy, striding several steps at once with his ridiculously long legs that looks unnaturally lanky but once he reaches your room again, soup and spoon in hand you were already nodding off, head lolling and eyes slipping shut. spencer stops at your bed stand, thinking to himself for a second before balancing the plastic bowl of soup on one hand and using the other to gently nudge at your face, waking you up. he grimaces when he feels that your skin burns to the touch, a bright tint to your cheeks that he hates himself for liking because you're sick, he shouldn't be thinking that you're pretty or stuff like that.

spencer waves the thought away, determined to focus on his mission. deliver soup, make sure you're okay, and send his farewells. that's what emily told him to do, and even though derek added a "kiss her goodnight too, loverboy!" he's only going to listen to emily, because emily knows best.

yes. perfect. that's exactly what he's going to do.

"hey," he whispers, caressing his thumb across the lightly purple patch under your eye, frowning to himself. you haven't been getting good enough sleep, and he feels guiltier for waking you up, but then straightens himself up resolutely--no. emily said the soup must be delivered and consumed--just to melt again when your eyes flutter open, confused and traces of sleep still floating around your facial expression. "sorry," he mumbles, feeling oddly embarrassed. "it's just--i mean, you don't have to, jus' want you to eat something before you sleep again."

you sit up slowly, and once you're fully awake again, the smell of the soup hits you like a bucket of ice and you suddenly feel your mouth watering. you feel like a princess, sitting there with your hands crossed in your lap while you wait for spencer to unwrap the plastic utensils and tissues from its clear packaging, carefully opening up the lid of the soup on the night stand and hot steam floats around the room, engulfing both you and spencer in a bubble of tomato soup.

spencer, a planner that he is, didn't let you eat directly from the plastic take-out bowl from the restaurant and had rummaged through your kitchen for a bowl and pours half the soup into the ceramic, no spillage and perfectly clean. then he hands the soup to you, and you eat.

to say that spencer is concerned is to say the least. you're a profiler, and you're trained to pick up on this sort of thing but you only need to be a child with an undeveloped brain to work out that spencer's worried, watching your every move and monitoring that you eat enough, the crease in his brows deepen whenever you set the bowl down so you pick it up again and stuff two more spoonfuls in your mouth, to hopefully make him worry less.

the silence is awkward, the only sounds in the room is you biting down on the spoon occasionally as you drink your soup and spencer watching intently, hands on his chin and unaware of his staring problem. you and spencer rarely has these kind of silences, the silences where you scramble for things to say because the atmosphere would always be too comfortable. you sneak glances at him as you eat. since spencer's completely oblivious to the heaviness of the silence, you feel it's up to you to break it.

"i'll clock in once i'm finish eating this, don't worry," you say, trying your best to sound reassuring as you try to choke back a spoonful of soup too big. you lick your lips, and spencer is biting his, a bad habit.

"no you're not, y/n," he says, exasperated. normally, when spencer uses his 'i'm right so you should listen to me' tone like this, it means he's geared for an argument and you would be happy to challenge him, but now you can't find the energy for it. yet you muster enough up anyway.

"i'm only a bit shaken up 'cause of the weather," you say, trying to sound as convincing as possible, still in the calm before the storm of the bicker. "'m not immobile. and i already used up all my off days visiting my family--"

spencer, however, didn't bother for the peaceful offering. "you're not coming in today, y/n," he says, and he sounds a bit anxious but you know his true intent. his eyes are mirthful with confidence, and he knows he's already won the argument. despite the buzzing in your ears and the fuzziness in your brain, you can't let the bastard win. you can't.

“i can’t miss anymore days spencer, and i won’t,” you say coldly, but you slurping on the soup hungrily like it’s your last day on earth sort of ruined your cool facade. “i’m not too sick, either, it’ll be useless for me to stay home—“

spencer reaches to press his palm against your forehead, his skin cold to the touch. you close your eyes instinctively.

“you’re burning up,” he announces. “means your sick. you’re not coming in today, y/n.”

“says who?” you say defensively, feeling a bit like you’re loosing.

“says me,” spencer says cooly, cheeky smile at his lips. you should hate it more than you do. “who’s a doctor.”

you scoff. “so now you’re an actual doctor? you got a medical phd on you?”

“i have a bachelor in medicine and enough doctorates to make me slightly knowledgeable in every field,” spencer quips and you didn’t even know that he had a bachelor in medicine. how many fucking degrees does this guy even have on his resume?

“whatever,” you grumble, sounding a lot like someone who’s just got defeated. you set the bowl of soup down on the nightstand and spencer hands you a bottled water before you could think about needing water. you pluck it from his offering hands, muttering a “thanks” under your breath.

spencer laughs quietly, watching you drink patiently and putting the cap back on when you hand him back the bottle, setting it next to your soup. you feel ridiculously babied and your cheeks burn with the guilt you feel. you’re talking him off his office hours just to be here and feed you stuff and make sure you’re taking care of yourself.

spencer, the 24/7 profiler, notices. "is something wrong?" he asks innocently, round eyes blinking and oblivious. bless him. "you got redder. is it too hot? i can adjust the a/c."

“fine,” you mumble, still a little embarrassed with your realization. “little cold, actually.”

“it's the chills from your fever,” spencer informs you. “i…” he pauses, frowning again, frustrated from not being able to finish his thought. he abandons it. “do you need anything else?”

“no spence,” you laugh sort of pathetically, throat strained. “you’ve been an angel already. you can go back to the office, if you want.”

spencer thinks back to what emily had told him. soup. make sure she’s ok. leave. he’s done the past two steps. it’s time he completes his mission.

but…

“are you sure?” he prods, a little bit of him hoping that you'd say no. he doesn't know what it is; something bothering him, making him dread leaving.

you didn't get the cue. "mhmm," you shoot him a reassuring smile. as reassuring as you can manage, anyway, grimacing at the insistent throb in your head. spencer gnaws on his bottom lip, indecisive. you don't know what he was deciding between.

whatever battle it was, he wraps it up quick. "okay," he repeats. "i'll get back."

"you do that."

"remember to drink water."

"i will."

"do you need me to bring you more?"

"i'm okay."

"okay."

the conversation feels incomplete and spencer isn't interested to complete it, booting out the door, except he lingers for a bit and awkwardly turns around, hand on the frame. you are already looking at him when he looks at you.

you and spencer are never this awkward, never this hesitant and strange. the tension that suffocates your room feels like signature first-date-tension, the kind of nervous excitement and tip-toeing blind lovers and uncertainty.

"are you sure?"

i'd rather you stay. you push the response away. "i am."

"you have medicine right?"

you do have medicine. for a brief moment, you want to lie about it; want to say that you ran out this morning and then he would run to the store for you and return and then spend more time in your insufferable, sickly presence. you brush the thought away within a second. never in a million years do you want to bother spencer, especially not with a thing as selfish as that. maybe it's because of your biased vision but spencer is looking like he's desperate to leave, practically screaming for outlet at the door. it's time you let him go and indulge in the worst sleep you'll ever have.

"yeah," you say, clearing your throat. "i do."

"okay," spencer says. "i'll go."

"thanks," you add awkwardly. "for the soup. and for coming."

"'course" spencer says absentmindedly, lingering at the door frame but not looking at you in particular, not looking at anything. he snaps back and sends you a wave. spencer has a power to him where everything he does looks unplanned, like he's doing it against his own will.

he leaves. if you had change your mind and ask for him to come back, for him to stay, he would've. no hesitation. but you didn't, and he wiggles back in his broken in converses and return back to the bau with no elevator partner.

maybe another day.

a/n: sorry for the ending, this was getting too long so i had to cut it short 😓😓but i think it's kinda fitting! lmk if you guys want a part 2 <3

#spencer reid #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #matthew gray gubler #mgg #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #my works

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gxdsfavgal · 1 year

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can u write an angst about reader and drew while they fight really hard bc drew think that reader is always too friendly/flirty with new people and its bothering him meanwhile reader doesn’t feel trusted and understood by him so they do a pause but it affect him really much so all the cast organize a forced reunion between them

Just Trust

Pairing: Drew Starkey x Actor!Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, arguing, social drinking, healthy communication later on, not edited

A/N: a little different than the request but takes place while filming OBX3

It was always like this, coming home from a night out with the cast and immediately arguing once the door closed. It was all a facade for our friends and cameras.

Perfect couple! So many headlines came out with that statement when we first became an official couple. Oh were they wrong.

“Again?” Drew yelled out as he aggressively set down the car keys.

“Ugh! Again what Drew?” I rolled my eyes at him as I took off my blistering shoes.

“First you take so many pictures with these touchy fans, then you let the new sound guy buy you a drink?” he crossed his arms as he towered over me.

“I don’t know what you want me to do!” I quickly stood up and moved to the bedroom, trying my hardest to get away from the situation.

“I want you to set boundaries with your fans and not accept drinks from random men!” his finger tapped hard against the wood surface of my vanity, his force shaking it on the wooden legs.

“They are my fans Drew! They are the ones who gave me all of this!” I threw my hands up in the air showing my studio apartment.

“And the drinks? Soon that guy will want more from you on and off set!” he moved to the bed to sit and take off his clothes.

“It’s the same way I buy lunch once a month for the crew! He was just being nice! They’re always just being nice!” I stood up and started to change out of my outside clothes.

“Oh don’t use that bullshit on me again! I let that shit slide once!” he threw his dirty clothes into the hamper with force. “You don’t see how those men look at you!”

“They are just being nice Drew! The fans and everyone! Anyone else can see that but you!” he was closer now, we both can feel the anger radiating off each other.

“You’re too friendly! Always allowing people to give you handouts! You have a fucking boyfriend! You have me! This is just like how it was when you first met Rudy.” his nose flared, his face red.

“Too friendly? -You’ve got to be fucking kidding me! You’re bringing this up again? He is with Elaine! I am with you! God I can’t fucking deal with you!” I stormed off into the bathroom, hoping that doing my skin care routine would calm me down.

“He didn’t seem to care that you were with me, and obviously you didn’t too!” he was behind me in every step, not missing a single beat.

I stood over the bathroom sink, my eyes looking into my reflection just observing myself and what I have been putting myself through. My head drops between my shoulders, head heading low as my hands kept me up on the counter.

All you could hear throughout the apartment when just Drew’s heavy breathing echoing.

“Do you trust me?” I mumbled out into the silence.

I looked up into the mirror to meet his eyes through our reflections. I could tell he knew his answer but didn’t want to say it, scared of the outcome.

“You can go.” I couldn’t look him in the eyes anymore. I immediately began to wash my face, hoping that my tears mixed in with the water.

He didn’t even try to fight me on staying, he just started to pack up his things. Over the loud water, I can hear drawers opening and his feet shuffling on the concrete floor.

As I dry my face with a towel, I hear the front door close.

The next few days and nights were a mess. Waking up with a sore throat and puffy eyes. Hair tangled and fridge stock running low.

This was worst of the worst.

I've been staying in my own safe space, not leaving for anything. Ordering UberEats, and watching movies 24/7. I was scared to check my phone, scared to get a glimpse of Drew living a happy life.

Carlacia and Maddison noticed how I haven't been active, not answering the texts, leaving the group chats, so they decided to spend some time with me.

"How are you babe?" Maddison asked as she plopped onto my couch.

I sighed deeply as I got comfortable across from Maddison while Laci sat on the floor.

"Y'know, I'm the best I can be right now." I gave her a half assed smile.

They both showed me a look that made me want to go back into hiding, the look of pity.

"Be honest with me, how is he?" I looked down at my hands as I toyed with the ring that he gave me for my birthday.

"Not good." Laci's lips were set in a thin line, her eyebrows furrowed.

I nodded silently, crossing my arms over my chest. My lip starting to quiver but I suck in a breath to anchor myself.

"He's been forgetting his lines, even has trouble blocking." Maddie shook her head and brought her knees up to her chest.

Drew and I met on the set of OBX2, I was just a supporting character. I didn’t have many lines, wasn’t in many episodes. When I would be on set, Drew wouldn’t be on set, and so on. There’s no reason for me to stay in North Carolina, but I stayed close to the cast because they’re my best friends.

After talking for a few hours and changing the topics back and forth, they were able to convince me to go out this weekend. They wanted me to finally get some fresh air, just go to brunch and walk around the city for a little with JD tagging along with us.

It was now Sunday. It took me a while to get out of bed, but I was excited to finally go out especially with friends.

I did my calming rituals. I took a long warm shower, took my time doing my skincare, and choosing comfortable clothes. I surrounded myself with high vibration music to help with anxiety and more.

We're in the lobby! - Maddison

I got the text and added the finishing touches before leaving to meet them in my apartment lobby.

Once the elevator opened, I was greeted with smiles and open arms. JD hugged me tightly, giving me the tight squeeze needed to release some panic still in me.

We all began to walk towards the restaurant since it was just a few blocks away. While walking we had a few small good conversations, wanting to save the bigger ones for when we settle into our table.

We were stopped a few times by some fans, sweet fans asking to take some pictures. But we were also stopped by a few random paparazzi, their stupid questions trying to start drama.

‘Where’s Drew?’ ‘Will Drew be joining you guys today?’

We finally arrived to the restaurant, trying to calm ourselves down from the long walk.

“Reservation for Maddison Bailey.” Mad’s told the hostess as we all scanned the QR code for the menu.

“If you guys will just follow me.” the hostess said nervously as she grabbed the utensils wrapped in a cloth napkin.

She sat us down in a long table on the covered patio. The walls filled with plants and heaters, the windows giving us a view of the busy but beautiful downtown.

“Hi guys! I’m your waitress Donna, are we still waiting for a few more to join?” a kind older lady came up behind me as she had her note pad out and her pen hanging between her fingers.

“No, it’s ju-“

“They’ll be here soon.” JD interrupted me with a smile to Donna.

She nodded her head as she went to tend to her other tables.

“Who will be here soon?” I leaned over the table with furrowed brows.

I heard clicking of cameras from the entrance of the restaurant we were at. People’s heads turning away from us to focus on the new attention.

The hostess that sat us down came back to us with a smaller group following behind.

She pointed to our table and revealed the trio. Madelyn, Austin, and Drew.

Of course he had to be here.

I stood up to hug Austin and Madelyn as they made their way around the table and to everyone. Drew greeting the others while I was distracted talking to Madelyn.

I avoided eye contact with him as he sat down at the head of the table next to me. My body leaned towards JD that was on the other side of me, my legs turned away from Drew.

“What can I get for you guys to drink?” Donna asked from the other end of the table.

I had only a couple of minutes to decide what to drink before it was my turn to tell my order.

“And you hun?”

I was too focused looking at the menu on my phone to hear that it was my turn. I saw a hand cover my phone screen and looked up at the owner.

I gave Drew a confused face but he just nodded his head towards the waitress behind me. My eyes widened in realization.

“Oh I am so sorry! You guys just have so many options!” I placed my hand over my heart. “But I’ll just have a mimosa with just a little bit of orange juice and three maraschino cherries please.”

She wrote my order on her notepad with a smile and moved onto Drew.

“How’s set?” I asked Madelyn as i stirred the ice water with my straw.

“Same old same old, actually Chip left you a gift in your trailer.” she pulled out her phone and showed the pic of the gift bag set on the vanity.

“Aw cute, i’ll have to get that someday and thank him.”

The conversations stayed on one end of the table, Drew and I just listening in on the rest talking. With our drinks now at the table, it started to get warmer and more laid back.

My shoulders no longer tense, I’m sitting straight now, but still avoiding Drew.

“Can we talk?” I heard him say from his seat next to me, his hand on my forearm.

I turned my head to see him. The first time I actually examined his face since he arrived. This eyebags are heavy and the lines on his forehead are more prominent.

My heart sunk at the look of him. Sometimes I forgot he has feelings also, forgetting that this affects him too.

“Not here.” I whispered out as I put my hand over his, my thumb rubbing the back of his hand before picking it up and placing his hand away.

After brunch was finished, we all paid and left the restaurant. We all hugged each other and said our ‘see you tomorrow’ and ‘see you soon’.

“Do you want us to walk you back to your apartment?” Laci asked as she stood there waiting with JD and Maddison.

“I got it.” Drew smiled at them and waved them off.

I awkwardly put my hands in my pocket as we started to walk in the direction of my apartment. It was a quiet and short walk, not wanting to talk about person stuff out in public that could possible end in crying or yelling, or both.

Once we reached my apartment, I took off my shoes then making myself comfortable on my couch. So did Drew, sitting next to me and facing me.

“I’m sorry.” he blurted out.

I looked at him blankly. I didn’t know if that’s all he was going to say, he caused so much damage.

“I- I trust you but I just get clouded w-with jealousy.” He rubbed his hand over his shaved head.

“It’s hard to talk to you when you don’t understand where I’m coming from.” I told him. My eyes scanning his face to see what his next reaction could be.

“I don’t want to be controlling. I never want to have that type of relationship, y’know that.” he looked at me with soft eyes, his fingers fidgeting with his signet ring.

“I just want you to understand that I interact with my fans a different way than you do, I have a smaller fan base than you. I kiss their cheeks, we do weird poses. You have to understand that.” I tilted my head down to see his now dropped head.

“I know. It’s just new.” he rubbed the back of his neck.

“And the guy from sound check just wanted to say thank you for me being so considerate of their work.” I scooted closer to him, my hand reaching up to the base of his neck.

“It’s just I’m your boyfriend, seeing you accept free drinks is feels like a stab.” he confessed. My heart ached at how he felt on the situation.

“And I’ll work on that, setting boundaries. I just wanted you to talk to me calmly about these thing.” my fingers feathered the short hairs on his neck. “Trust is a big thing for me. I trust you with my life, and I hope you trust me with yours.”

“This whole thing fucked me up. I fucked up.” He dragged his hands over his face in stress. “so couldn’t even do my job, that’s how bad it was.”

“Baby, it’s okay.” my hands moving form the back of his neck to cradle his jaw.

“I should’ve never not trust you.” he looked into my eyes with heavy eye lids, his lip a a slight pout.

“Drew baby, it’s okay. Just make sure it never happens again, yeah?” I swept my thumb on the apples of his cheeks, his head tilting into my palm.

“I love you.” he whispered out as he moved his face to kiss my palm.

“I love you.” I brought my lips to his.

#gxdsfavgals masterlist #drew starkey #drew starkey angst #drew starkey fluff #drew starkey smut #drew starkey x you #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x reader

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rodolfoparras · 5 months

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Prepare for my goofy little essay about Soap

I definitely believe Soap likes to be treated like a dog and acts like one. Not like puppy play, but affectionately. He’s laying his head in your lap? He’s has your hand in his as he gnaws on your fingers. You’re having a drink with the rest of the 141? He bites your shoulder when he’s bored of the conversation. It gets to the point where some of the guys start to call Soap, your “puppy”, even though you two aren’t together, but both of you grow into it cause, are they really wrong? You’ve definitely walked in on Soap and Gaz looking over some plans for another prank on Ghost and had to ask Soap, “What do you have?” as he tries to hide it behind his back. I can also absolutely imagine Soap, completely silent, walking into the common area where you and the others are hanging out and just sitting on the floor either between your legs or next to them to rest his head, and you just instinctively put your hand in his hair and pet him.

This all cumulates when after Soap gets into a fight with another member, maybe they were bad talking about you. These two are throwing blows when you walk in and you finally break it up by basically scruffing Soap. You tell off the other guy and are dragging Soap back to your room to clean him up. You aren’t really watching him since you’re trying to get him to a safer place, but Soap’s face is as red as the blood dripping from his nose. Once you get to your room, you sit him on the toilet and start to clean his wounds for him. He’s all nervous and hardly speaking despite you asking him all these questions about why he did this. He says they were running their mouth, so he shut it for them. You chuckle at his need to protect you and your honor and jokingly call him your “guard dog”, but this man flushes to red again. You take a little further and call him your “good boy” while lightly scratching his head. This man absolutely melts at your words and his pants probably grow a little tighter.

All of this probably leads to you and Soap becoming each other’s comforter after missions. Sometimes he needs to grounded, so he just sits near you as you absentmindedly pet his hair until he feels good enough to shower. Usually you feel good enough to clean yourself up after missions but shut down after, so Soap will just lay on top of you like a human weighted blanket.

Sorry about the word vomit of homosexuality. The Soap brainrot is real as of recent. I showed my friend a picture of Neil Ellice and he said, “he looks like a sad dog” and my immediate thought was, “he’s a sad wet dog, and I have soft dry towel”

-🤠

LISTEN I LOVED THIS bc I talked about this with someone how soap is basically a puppy and hear me out you the new sergeant joining the squad and taking a liking to soap but it’s clear he’s got the hots for the lieutenant and really it’s more out of pettiness than anything else that you whisper good boy under your breath when he follows ghosts order without question, saying he’s loyal like a dog when soap is just standing there even barking in his face when you get into a fight

It all ends up with you pushed against the wall, with him fisting your shirt and holding a hand against your throat and maybe it had been one too many drinks post mission adrenaline or sexual frustration that has him smashing his lips onto yours

And before you know of it you’re stumbling into your room clothes are scattered to the floor and he’s riding you while you’re saying the words “come on show me how much of a good boy you can be” and although he almost spit in your face the words “go fuck yourself” being said through gritted teeth he begins to ride you more vigorously

#alec answers #🤠 anon

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kyurizeu · 11 months

Text

#14 - kisses and hugs (Im)possibly fate (TEXT)

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

Previous - masterlist - next

Warnings: fluff. Fluffy fluff. Angst and stress. Also not proofread bc yk me;)

Word count: 1,4k

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

“I have to go now guys… byeeee annyeong!!” Just as you shut the live off you felt how every drop of energy drained out of your body. Your lips faded into a line trying to hold still to not fall into a frown. Your eyes became teary and you felt your breath getting shaky. Deep breaths yn. It’s okay.

“Kiranaaaaaa are you here?” You peeked into the kitchen and soon the whole house until you had to go check her room. “Knock knock? R u here kira?”

“Yep! U ready?”

“Yeah”

She came out of her room and soon plopped into the drivers seat of her new shiny car. “Damn this is cleaner than I expected” you slid your finger over the surface of the steering wheel as if you were looking for dust. “I just got it so… haven’t got time to trash it yet” “makes sense”

“Where do i drop u off?”

“Oh yk where the nearest seven eleven is, right? Drop me off there”

“At the seven eleven..?”

“Their dorm is most likely surrounded by people and i do not want to get caught near his dorm.”

“Okay smart”

——

“Ty kira bye!”

“Bye! Also call me when u need a ride back! Dont be too late and call me if u need help!”

“I’ll be fine dw”

You sneaked into their backyard and knocked onto their glass door which you saw a very startled Niki through. You mouthed “i’m sorry” to him and he rolled his eyes before sliding the door open. “Where is-“ “Jungwonnn!! Your girlfriend is here” he yelled reaaallly loudly facing the direction of jungwons room. Jungwon soon sprinted out of the room to hug you tightly. “Ugh get a room.” Niki muttered as he went back to the kitchen table to eat his cereal. Jungwon placed a million soft kisses all over your head also letting out little “mwah” sounds on purpose as he hugged you softly and moved both of you back and forth slowly. “Jungwon- i cant breathe..” he chuckled and placed his hands onto your cheeks to plant the final kiss on your soft lips. For a second he just adored your face and smiled at you lovingly. “Let’s go into my room so i can kiss you in peace” he glanced at niki annoyingly and grabbed you by your wrist.

His room was cozy but messy…ish… i mean there werent clothes all over but the room was a bit unwell decorated. That didn’t matter though because he was laying on his bed with open arms and a warm smile. You took the opportunity to jump onto the bed and hug him tightly. He started kissing your cheeks and caressing your hair. “Honey look at me” you looked up at him into his soft and gentle eyes. “Youre so beautiful”

The words that usually made you smile, blush or feel butterflies now made your eyes teary and throat dryer. Your slight smile turned into a downward one and your lips started shaking. Jungwons eyes widened a little and his hands came back onto their favourite place on your cheeks. “Yn… did i do something wrong?” The poor boy looked confused and concerned. You bursted into tears and hid your face in your hands. “I-i’m sorry honey are you okay?” He pulled you into his chest to hug you as he rubbed your back and head softly. “N-no you didn’t do anything wrong…” you mumbled against his soft hoodie. He just hugged you more tightly and placed you onto his lap.

After a while your eyes started drying a bit and you sniffled once before backing away from him to smile softly. Your nose was a little red and eyes were swollen. “Im sorry won.. i ruined the night” he tilted his head with furrowed brows and still wide eyes like a deer in headlights. “No no no you didn’t it’s good that you’re here. You’re safe and you can cry. I’m here” his hands were resting on your waist and they connected together behind your back. “Do you want to talk about it or just cuddles?” He pouted at you and watched as you wiped some tears into your sleeves. “I-It’s just that… I can’t stand my job right now. My manager is a pain in the ass and i’m just ruining everything. I was so bad during our last comeback and i dragged you into this solo album dating rumour mess and- and i ruined your life too and i’m such an idiot and on top of that-“ you felt yourself being pulled into a hug again. “Yn… you are the sweetest most precious soul and I hate to think that you’ve been feeling like this because you deserve nothing but happiness and love. You haven’t ruined anything and you’re one of the most professional idols i know. You have nothing to worry about baby. Tell me, what would ease your mind right now?” He pulled away from the hug and kissed your forehead tilting his head after. “I.. i think some kisses and hugs.. and my fav movie.” You smiled through the teary eyes, red and puffed up eyes. “Anything my princess wants” he kissed your lips softly and scooted onto the back of his bed with you in his lap, letting his back hit the wall. “Make urself comfy and i’ll find the movie on my laptop” you cozied yourself on his chest and he placed a pillow on your thighs and the laptop on top of the pillow.

He was the sweetest man. His cologne wafting through the air was making you even more comfortable. When the theme song of the movie started playing your boyfriend started playing with your hair and running his hands through it.

In the middle of the movie jungwon thought he was hallucinating because of the small sound he heard. He looked over your shoulder as much as he could and then he heard the sound again— soft snores coming out of your mouth. Aw she’s so cute.. he adored you so much.. he took a 0.5 picture of you and laughed a little at it before thinking his possibilities through. A) wake you up and get you mad, B) let you sleep but you’d get mad because you’re late, C) let you sleep here the night but get you fired.

“Sweetie..?” He shook you softly and as you started opening your eyes softly he lifted you up onto his lap by your armpits. “Did u sleep well?” He smiled as he kissed your neck softly and pressed his face against the side of yours. You slightly blushed and felt embarrassed and annoyed that you had fallen asleep but you’d rarely gotten any sleep these days. “I’m sorry wonie… i-” a yawn interrupted your sentence and Jungwon chuckled at you. “I was so comfortable there… what time is it?” You turned to your boyfriend now. “It’s uhh… 22:28pm” he checked his phone before focusing all his attention back to you. “22:28pm?! Oh no i have to go home” you pouted and leaned in to hug him tightly.

“It’s okay sweetie we see each other almost daily” he laughed at the way you started clinging onto him suddenly. “You feel a little cold.. wait there..” he left the bed leaving you to lay on your stomach hugging the pillow in disappointment. “Here you go” you got up to sit on his bed until your eyes focused onto your favourite hoodie of his. Suddenly jungwon was dressing the hoodie on you. “I want you to stay warm” he smirked like always when he has something in his mind. “Jungwon… you just like seeing me in your clothes, right?” You laughed with a disappointed expression. “So what you’re cute with my oversized clothes” he shrugged and lifted you to stand up and hug him. “You like wearing my clothes too hm?” He rested his chin on top of your head and swung you two back and forth again. He loves giving these kind of hugs oml. “Yeah they’re comfy and smell like you” your hands rested on his lower back and you tried pulling away and pouted “jungwon i really need to go..”

“Okay.. just text me that you get home safely, mmkay?” He patted your head as you stopped hugging. “Yes okay… bye wonie.. i love you” he smiled as you left his room while rubbing your eyes with your hands in fists. “Love you too ynnie”

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

Taglist: (open)

@harperwasstaken @strwberrydinosaur @letapostropheesgo @yngwife @chogolei @ddeonmixx @j-wyoung @xiaoderrrr @vivibelov3d @ablackbtsstan @chaechae-23 @vizstars @tlnyjoong @ahnneyong @deobitifull @jungwonnieee @yumilovesloona @ikeu4life @nyxtwixx @s02zjy @choclate32 @soobiverse @maimoirs @gigi-honeyjaes @aeriti @kimiplx @jakeify @sullkyoons2

#enhypen fanfiction #enhypen smut #jungwon #jungwon smut #kyurizeu #jungwon hard thoughts #kpop smut #enhypen fluff #enhypen smau #enha smut #enha fluff #enha smau #jungwon smau #jungwon fluff #impossibly fate

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josephquinnswhore · 1 year

Note

Hiiii bub thank you soooo much for the request here’s another one I have (based on me)

TW: blood & commit and anxiety attack

May you please do a Pedro pascal x plus size reader where readers worst fear is blood and any time they see it the feel nauseous and go in to an anxiety attack. Basically I was sick last week and had the absolute worst tummy bug (I’m all better) and threw up so hard my nose bled that I almost passed out and had an anxiety attack. Basically do it based off what happen to me and if u can add Bella and Nico and Gabriela calling Pedro bc he is the only one to calm reader down from these panic attacks.

Thank you in advance

My Comfort

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Fem/Plus Size Reader!

Summary: you’re sick and Pedro’s called back from his luck to see you in a bad way.

Word Count: 2k

Content Warning: reader is sick, mentions of blood, panic attack, vomit.

Note: hi sun bun 🐰, I love you. We must be the same person fr cause I’ve been sick for over a month LMAO and I get so queasy when I see blood. UGH, hopefully this gives you what you need. I also throw up to the point where my throat bleeds lol it’s so fucked. 🫶🏼🥰 I made it pretty dramatic LOL. M sorry it’s short.

You told yourself you were fine, you could do the filming through the sickness. You were sipping on your water and drinking your raspberry flavoured hydralyte, even though it tasted like shit. Just to try and get yourself through the day, unable to tell yourself you’re not sick enough to show up for work. It was too important, it came before everything else in your life, well, almost everything. It was second in line to your boyfriend and co-worker, Pedro.

“You’re okay. You’re okay. Just one more scene to shoot, then you can go home.” You chanted to yourself as you look in the mirror trying to convince yourself it to be true, thinking maybe if you said it aloud it would enforce some truth. Your face was losing colour with every passing minute, and the darkness around your eyes was a clear indication that everything was far from okay, that you were not okay.

But you felt guilty, you didn’t want to let the team down by going home and delaying the episode when you had one measly scene left to shoot, you may as well just tough it out and get through it as best you could. It would maybe take a couple hours at most, you could do that! Right? You started to doubt yourself at the way your limbs started to ache and feel heavy. It hurt to hold your head upright.

You turn on the tap to the cold water, letting the water gather into your cupped hands before you bring it to your face, the coolness is refreshing, you exhale a deep breath to try and relax, patting your face dry with some paper towel and throw it into the trash bin. You could do this. You couldn’t give up.

“Hey, are you feeling okay? You don’t look so hot.” Gabriel sets a hand on your shoulder, his thick black eyebrows were nearly touching as he frowned, his dark brown eyes squinted with concern at one look of you, his hand feels like it weighs a tonne on your aching shoulder. “I-I mean you are, but, you know.” He gestures to you and you raise an eyebrow at him, you didn’t wanna have to deal with this right now-as much as you liked him.

“Dude shut it, are you okay?” Bella asks, her face strewn with concern for your well-being. You swallow your spit loudly, gulping down the clump that sits in your throat, feeling more ill with every passing second. “Um…I’m ok, I think.” you can’t decide what to say, unsure of whether you even believe your obvious and blatant lies. Bella looks to Nico and they know you’re lying, sharing a look of sympathy toward you, watching as you slightly sway as you stand still.

“Why don’t you just sit down for a second, have some water.” You nod to Nico, “thanks,” you mumble in agreement as she sets a gentle hand on your back, helping you sit, agreeing it’s a good idea. The bright lights of the set don’t help the ache in your head that’s contributing to your illness. Your eyes squint as your brain throbs at how bright it is, you blink harshly, trying to rid the ache that’s set in motion, the shadow of a headache you knew would grow into a migraine.

“Wouldn’t hurt to sit for five minutes.” You mumble in an unintelligible slur, as you feel a wave of nausea coming over you, it shakes your whole body to the core, the feeling settles uncomfortably in the pit of your stomach. Your fingers grasp your bottle shakily with the hydralyte, desperate to rid your body of the nausea setting, but it wasn’t your bottle, and it wasn’t hydralyte. It was a bottle of soft drink, the fizz of the soda causes a rift in your stomach that feels like it’s about to explode. The feeling builds and builds until it feels like it’s going to erupt, from your mouth.

“Oh my god, someone get me a bucket.” You hunch over in your seat with one arm wrapped around your stomach, the other holding your hand over your mouth, the nausea rising up your throat that you have to swallow down the first time it attempts its exit because you would’ve just spewed all over the floor on set. You heave again, this time Gabriel is holding a bucket underneath your mouth, the taste of the liquid makes your stomach ache even though it barely has time to digest.

The same coloured liquid comes out as clear, mostly bile the first few times, until the stench of the contents in the bucket circulates through your nostrils and churns your stomach again, twisting until it shoots up your throat, this one hurt your throat badly, the sting it made coming out has you unable to breathe for a few seconds, your lash line full to the brim with unshed tears, coughing violently as someone rubs a hand along your back, trying to soothe you.

You feel something dribbling from your nose and you wipe it with the back of your hand, not caring how disgusting it would seem to anyone else. You expect to see snot or mucus on your hand associated with the tears brought to your eyes from the vomiting. To your surprise you see a bright red liquid, your blood was coating your hand in a rugged line on your hand, your nose was bleeding.

“Oh shit you’re bleeding.” Nico exclaims, panic evident in her voice, inspecting your nose and handing you a tissue, the blood filled the tissue within a few seconds, the flow from your nostril not giving up. You must’ve burst a blood vessel in your nostril with how it’s pouring out of you, you start to feel dizzy at the sight of how much blood you’re losing. You pull back the tissue and feel it leaking through the tissue, your fingertips were now stained red from how profusely it was bleeding.

It starts with your hands trembling, your body becomes stiff and you can hardly hear anyone around you. Your fingers are shaking that badly you drop the bloody tissue, your nose is now free bleeding all over you and your clothes. Your breaths are rugged and panicked. The ache in your neck causes it to fall, your whole body falling forward destined to hit the ground until Gabriel catches you, sitting you on the floor, lying you on your side.

“Call Pedro back from lunch, now. And get the damn medic.” Bella demands Gabriel who stands in a panic not knowing what to do, he rushes to get his phone and makes the call to Pedro, Nico rushes away to find the medic on set while Bella stays with you. She’s knelt down beside you, trying to pry you upright but your body is stiff and unmoving other than the small underlying tremble of your body.

The medic arrives first, she’s kneeling down beside Bella to look at you, eyeing the teenager in shock at the state of you. “Hey hun can you hear me? It’s Cas I’m here to help.” You feel a warm hand on your body as she rolls you onto your back, the ache from the touch alone causes you to whimper, your eyes are strewn shut at the brightness of the room, it was all too much, you just wanted Pedro.

She pulls out of her bag a cuff, to check your blood pressure, the tightening of the cuff on your arm was pleasantly satisfying, slightly grounding you with each notch of pressure that was released. “Okay, blood pressures a little low but nothing to be worried about. Just going to check your temperature sweetie.” She moves your arm, shoving a thermometer under your armpit and waits for it to beep. She checks it and purses her lips together on a thin line.

“Baby, oh my god is she okay?” Pedro kneels down next to you, his hands are holding your cheeks, cupped in his own large hands the warmth from them makes you sweat, a result of your ever rising temperature. “Is she okay?” Pedro asks Cas, she puts the thermometer away. “She had a reading of 39.2 degrees, she’s got a fever, not sure what’s causing it though.”

“Hey baby, hey can you hear me? It’s me baby I’m here.” You could barely find the strength in you to open your eyes, eyelids squinting to protect your eyes from the brightness of the room. “Hey.” You mutter, with the last of your strength you could muster before you fall unconscious.

Pedro’s leg is bouncing the whole time he’s sat in the chair beside your bed in the hospital. The beeping of the monitor keeping your reading would sometimes make a commotion in the event of a momentary spike in blood pressure, “it’s just trying to regulate itself.” The nurse offered, which didn’t make him feel any better.

“Mr Pascal, it’s nice to meet you, I’m Dr Wrent, we’ve been doing some tests on your girlfriend here today. We’ve come to find that she’s somehow contracted a deadly stomach bug, it’s rare but not unknown, we can give some anti biotics to take home and she should be fine within the week.” The doctor put your folder and hung it on the end of the bed, “by the way, make sure you enforce that she takes a break, tell her to stop working so hard.”

“Right, I’ll do that. Thanks for everything.” Pedro sunk back into his chair and waited for you to wake up, the small sandwich and juice from the cafeteria sitting unopened as you lie peacefully.

You start to stir right when Pedro feels his eyelids drooping, begging him to close so he can have a moments rest. He hears the shuffling before his brain has the chance to fully lull him into sleep, rustling around in the front of his mind to wake up, sending an alarm throughout his body that you were finally awake.

“God baby you’re awake. You scared the shit out of everyone you know that?” As if you hadn’t felt guilty enough, the worry on His face made it worse. You couldn’t look at him, avoidant in your stare towards him, looking quite literally elsewhere until he leaned over the bed and grabbed your face in his hands, forcing you to look up at him.

“I’m sorry baby- I didn’t mean,” he takes a deep breath before continuing. “We were worried about you, why didn’t you tell someone you weren’t feeling well?” You should’ve just done that to begin with you knew, but you were too stubborn.

“I just convinced myself I should do it, I didn’t want to disappoint anyone by delaying the season for one last scene.” Pedro’s hand caresses your hair, fingers gliding through your hair as he calms you. “From now on you put yourself forward okay? Promise me.”

You pull your bottom like between your teeth, enjoying the sting it brings when you bite down too hard, “okay, I promise.”

“I’m proud of you though, you saw that blood and didn’t die, soooo.” Pedro trails off with a small laugh and you groan and roll your eyes, shoving his arm. “Don’t remind me, that’s so embarrassing.”

Pedro stands from the bed, handing you a sandwich wrapped in a paper bag, “you know I think they’re gonna put a scene of you passing out in the show.” You stop feeling back the paper bag and look at him suspiciously, “they wouldn’t want to!”

He simply shrugs, “you didn’t hear that from me, now eat. Need my baby strong.” You unwrap and bite into the sandwich, it contained all your favourite fillings and you smile, stomach feeling settled and the ache of the emptiness was now gone as you’d managed to swallow some food. You’d sure learnt a valuable lesson; Gabriel is useless when it comes to emergency situations.

#Pedro pascal #Pedro pascal x fic #Pedro pascal x reader #Pedro pascal x you #Pedro pascal x fem reader #Pedro pascal as Joel miller #Pedro pascal on the set of tlou #tlou #Pedro pascal requested fic

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soulwillower · 3 years

Text

semi-charming • bill denbrough

(bill denbrough x reader smut)

requested: Do you have any bill denbrough x reader’s that you have finished that can be posted? I really love your work I re read it like everyday lol :) + AKANSHAKAKMA U SHOULD POST THE BILL DENBROUGH HATE SMUT AHHHH + don’t be shy post the b.d hate smut 😀🔫🥰🌝

i haven’t posted a fic in well over several months but i hope u guys like it :) im here and around still so send me something if u wanna chat <3 i also have re opened my requests lkajsdlkaj

also - i gained a lot of new followers while i was gone and im sure some ppl want to be removed from my taglist SO: i am gonna start a new taglist!!! pls send me a message and let me know if you want to be on it bc after this post im starting fresh !!!!!!!!!

warnings: drinking, mentions of weed, dorm living, almost-strangers hooking up, smut, choking (light), light spitting, a tiny bit of dirty talk, switch!bill, its kinda fluffy smut tbh, enemies-to-lovers but its so lowkey, kinda cute guys, neighbor-ish au,

(losers + reader are 19+.)

4.1k words

♡

the first time it happened, you wrote it off as unintentional.

it's happened to everyone: you're joking around with your roommate, or reaching over to grab your laptop, and you fall off your bed to the floor. you knock over your lamp or someone knocks over the handle that was sitting half-empty on the mini-fridge. the tile on the ground of the dorm rooms are hard and cold and don't do much to quiet the noise of anything, so you get that.

but whatever the hell was going on in the room above you was not that. it was three in the morning, and your head was spinning in that sickening way that only happens when you take too many drinks in a short time and find your way to bed for a few hours before being startled awake.

a loud thump made you jump in your bed, heart racing as you woke in surprise.

it was around twenty more loud thuds from your ceiling (in a span of barely two minutes) that you gathered the energy to slide out of your bed, sliding on your dorm slides and throwing on a shirt to cover your near naked body before storming into the hallway to climb the most challenging single story of stairs in your life, right to your upstairs neighbors' door.

your hand was banging on the door for a mere five seconds before the door swung open and a terribly confusing sight fell onto your eyes.

three boys who you've only ever seen in passing before in your dorm, all shirtless and heaving breaths. the one who answered the door, possibly bill or mike (judging by the stupid name tags on their door), has bright eyes and dark auburn hair that reflects in the dim light of the hall, backlit by the neon purple from inside the room. his sweaty bare abdomen made your eyes twitch as you glared at him, suddenly more irritated because he's kind of really hot and stupid and annoying, and you needed to sleep.

"hi.” he said casually, and you could tell he wasn’t entirely sober, either.

“so what is your fucking problem?" you said in lieu of a greeting, half-asleep and pissed beyond belief (also still drunk). the boy who answered the door raised his brows, head turning with a brow raised, as if to ask his buddies 'are they for real?' before turning back with a large, cocky smile, "pardon you? we already turned down the music."

you blinked, knowing you must have seemed so rude and looked insane but it was a weeknight and you had class in the morning, "wh- what, no- i'm not here about music. it's like three, you're slamming on the floor and i can hear it like i'm in a fucking tornado in my room below you so you need to knock it off."

then the other boy, further back with foggy glasses, started laughing. the other one laughed too, rubbing his neck sheepishly, still breathing heavy. "what the hell are you guys even doing in there?" you added, running a hand through your hair in exasperation.

"they were trying to bench press me. but then bill decided to start doing squat jumps onto his bed." the boy with glasses explained as he rubbed his chest, still concealed by the darkness of the room, illuminated only by the stupid LED neon lights that every single person in the dorms had lining their rooms. that explained the thudding.

"why." you'd deadpanned. you were too tired for this, but you'd wanted them to understand that it was keeping people up. "richie got us kicked out of Pike for stealing their doorknobs and pledge class photos." the third boy says, elbowing the boy, richie. "we felt like working out, but then richie said we couldnt press him, so..." he trails off at the look you give.

"you want my workout routine or something?" richie asks you. you sharply inhale and bill smiles, "well, if that's all, we'll be going. i've got one more rep to get in."

your eyes widened, jaw dropping at his words. he'd laughed, then, and your eyes couldn't stop as you stared at his sculpted abs flex in the light. god damn it.

"chill out, neighbor. sorry to wake you from your beauty sleep." he said as he noticed your look, and you wanted to fucking hit him.

you rolled your eyes, picking up on his facetious tone. "whatever. just knock it off. thanks," you'd griped, sarcastically smiling at them before trudging away towards the stairwell. and you'd caught it when bill muttered, "is now a bad time to assemble my ikea desk with my drill?"

you'd run into bill once again a few days after when you'd gone to use the bathroom on the floor above you where your friend lived, washing out the bowl you'd used for lunch. a 'shh!' had made your brows furrow as you'd walked in, not paying attention as you'd heard a shower stop and a girl laugh from the other side of the bathrooms.

but a deep voice grunting 'ow, fuck' made you freeze and then feel hot, wondering what kind of luck you have to be in the bathroom when some people were hooking up in the shower. but you're reminded that you had the worst luck when you go to leave the bathroom and two figures round the corner, hair soaking wet and hoods pulled over their heads. making eye contact with him, he must've seen how flustered and irritated you were, because he cracked a grin, "good to see you again, neighbor. you sleeping well these days?"

that was only a few days ago. you'd seen him in passing at a party at one of the frats, but had avoided any interaction with him after you saw him and his friend with the glasses snickering to themselves after sneaking looks to you. god, you didn't want to face them again - they were so mocking, so cocky.... so rude, and they made you feel like you were being insane just for wanting to have peaceful sleep. bill was not your favorite person.

but as bad as the first two experiences were, the third time you had the misfortune of interacting with bill, it was the worst.

your roommate was out for the weekend, and you'd found yourself stuck with your leg and ankle pinned between your heavy file cabinet under your bed and your bedframe, unable to scoot it over on your own to free your leg.

you were planning on relaxing tonight, after being stood up from a booty call hook up. you’re mad, frustrated, horny, and close to tears now that you’ve gotten yourself stuck pinned to your bed.

it’s nearly one in the morning, and nobody’s in the hall.

but then, bill walked past your open door as you struggled, and desperately you called, "hey!"

his double-take into your room, his head poking in, would have been charming if the face was anybody but him.

"what?" he asks, suddenly noticing it’s you. his voice is not charming and calm as you've seen him be with other peers, but in your stubborn mind, you convince yourself it’s fine; you don’t like him, either.

"i'm stuck, can you help?" you say despite your thoughts.

he sighs, dropping his backpack next to your bed and then tugging to try and move the cabinet.

"how did you do this?" he mutters as he pulls as hard as he can to pull it, but your shoe is too wedged diagonally against the floor, cabinet and frame. you sigh, "thought i could nudge it to the side with my toes, i dropped my dab through the crack."

he chuckles, trying to instead shove it backwards instead; to no avail. "smart girl." he says sarcastically, and you roll your eyes, trying to help him shove it. "what was the point of you keeping me up all fucking night if you aren't strong enough to move this shit?" you say, exasperated because it's starting to dig into your calf.

he stops, rolling his eyes at you. "has anyone ever told you that you can be a bit rude?" he asks, moving closer to you to try and push it away. you look down at him from where you stand, elbows on your mattress. "no. you're just a dick. fight fire with fire, or whatever." you mutter, face feeling hot.

you can't stop staring at his shoulders, his arms - they're so hot, the veins popping out of his hands and forearms, the smell of his aftershave wafting into your nose from where he kneels next to you.

he just hums. "i'm going to try to push your leg forward and then push the cabinet away." he states, and you nod, just wanted this nightmare to be over. you're still terribly embarrassed and the proximity to such a hot and confusingly irritating boy is making you lose your grip.

it takes a lot in you to not jolt when his warm hand wraps around your bare leg and starts to pull you, his strong hold on you making you tingle. "what's your name?" he asks, and you almost laugh as his grip on your thigh tightens, the feeling of his fingers wrapped around your skin making you hot. this is insane. "y/n." you struggle out, throat feeling dry - there's no reason his hand needs to be so high up on your leg, but some part of you really wants it. "it says that on my door." you say breathlessly.

whatever he was going to reply with is cut off as he tries to readjust his grip on you and the cabinet, but his hand slides up and grazes the skin near the apex of your thigh, coaxing a sharp gasp to fall from your mouth.

he turns red, looking up at you, "god, sorry." he mutters, and you bite your lip, unable to look away.

you kind of forget to say anything, stuck staring at him, heart thumping as wetness pools between your legs just from this boy's touch. god, you've got to get laid.

his arm is wrapped around the onside of your leg, thumb reaching higher on your thigh than his other fingers, and for a moment you hesitate before deciding to go for it: you drop your hand hand to his hair, pulling lightly as you 'steady yourself,' smirking as you feel his shaky breath against your thigh.

you don't even care about getting unstuck now, all you can think about is being fucked into the mattress by this asshole boy from the fourth floor. you’re not sure where this feeling came from.

when he finally pushes the cabinet away, causing you to stumble to catch your ground. he helps you get the cart and then push the cabinet back, awkward small talk making you want to die. "why were you down here anyways?" you ask, rubbing your leg. "mike kicked me out to be with a girl and all my friends are out for tonight." he sighs, rubbing his neck. "i have to do homework tonight, just going to find somewhere quiet to get it done."

"that's surprisingly responsible." you say, looking at him wearily. he gives you an annoyed look, "what's that supposed to mean?" you roll your eyes, "you don't seem particularly academically motivated." you state, unsure if you're coming across as flirtatious or just a dick. he gives you a look as he moves to grab his things from next to your bed. "you seem more pleasure motivated."

you catch your mistake immediately - and he does, too, smirking. you stutter to fix it, "don't be gross." you defend weakly.

he's biting his lip and something rumbles in your chest, flames in your abdomen. it's hard to gauge if you don't like him or if you do. maybe you're just horny.

"i thought you were cute, you know, until you showed up at three in the morning to chew me out." he mutters, eyebrows raised, "i get that that was annoying, but it was a saturday. everyone was drunk, i don't get why you are still being a bitch." his face drops when he says that, as if he didn't mean to say it at all, but he doesn't take it back. you shrug, not too offended. he kind of has a point, "i don't get why you have to make everything so much harder than it has to be. doesn't matter how hot you are, i don't have to like you, you know." you say, crossing your arms with a smirk.

"believe me, i'd rather you not like me." he says, smile on his face troubling. you look at him, trying to gauge why you're feeling so flustered, why you want to jump his bones right now no matter how annoying he is. "then why haven't you left yet?" you challenge. you figure if you're reading his actions wrong, this gives him an out.

"because i kind of want to fuck you now." he says boldly. you just smirk, walking towards where he sits on your desk chair, lowering yourself to straddle him. he looks up at you, eyes large and mischievous as he pulls you down on him all the way, your hips grinding lightly. "i think you want to fuck me always." you whisper, lips hovering above his, teasing. you're eating up all his attention, soaking it up and savoring the way he watches you.

you boldly snake your hand down between the two of you, lips still refusing to touch his, your hand starting to tease his clothed cock as it hardens under your palm. you stroke him as you lean, almost kissing him before pulling away. he glares at you.

then you move your hips, the tension in your room killing you. he lets out a half-moan, causing you to buck your hips again, relishing in the pleasure it gives you. he leans forward, trying to catch your lips, but your hand catches his chest, your lips just centimeters from his own. "fuck you, y/n." he says, fed up with your teasing as his hands squeeze your ass, moving to the bottom of your thighs and then rising with surprising ease, holding you against him and making your heart thump in shock. he takes four long strides towards your bed, tossing you on it. you grin, expecting for him to climb onto you, but instead he's walking towards your door, making your heart quicken. is he leaving?

he slams your door shut, though, and it makes you smirk as he clicks the lock. you're on your back, the sight of him upside down making you bite your lip, eyes nearly even with the bulge in his sweatpants.

he walks up to you, and you eye him as he bends forward, hand catching your chin, holding your head forward with a strength you didn't expect. "look at me." he says suddenly. you blink, feeling hot as you stare into his eyes.

"don't tease me." he says, and you swallow, heart racing in excitement. "okay." you croak, and it seems to satisfy him because he tilts your neck from here he holds your neck and chin, kissing you soundly on your lips. you feel on fire at his touch, squirming as you slip your hands into his hair - it's making you so needy that he's holding you, almost trapped on the mattress, kissing him upside down.

he pulls away and you flip around, allowing for him to climb onto the bed, barely enough time before you pull him in for another kiss, this one heated and desperate.

he bites marks on your neck as your hands palm him, pushing your own thighs together in need. slowly, you push him down against your mattress and sling a leg over his hip, moving to straddle him. his hands find your hips easily, looking at you like you're the only thing ever worth looking at; your breath leaves your lungs and you steady yourself, the reality of how fucking beautiful bill is hitting you at once.

you pull his shirt off, yours coming off, leaving you in just your shorts and underwear. he palms your tits, pinching your nipple as you grind down against his cock, whimpering at the feeling of his pants against your clothed clit. "if only you'd come up to my room like this." he says, and you snap your eyes to his, seeing the teasing grin but glaring at him. "maybe you would've been nicer to me if you knew how good i'd make you feel." he whispers as you resume your hip's movement, "shut up, bill." you hiss. he laughs, his thumb making contact with your clit takes you by surprise and you jump a bit, moaning quietly as your eyes close in pleasure.

"take these off." he mutters into your mouth as you bite his bottom lip. you take off your shorts, quickly resuming your spot straddling him, his lips trailing from your breasts to your throat and then your mouth again, grinding against him in need. he toys with your slit over your panties before he pulls them slowly to the side, spreading your juices on his long fingers, humming as he brings his fingers to his lips, watching you as he licks his fingers. you nearly moan, impatient enough that you kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips faintly; "do you want me?" you whisper against his lips.

"i wish i didn't," he says, "but yes. do you want to do this?"

you're breathless, beside yourself with need, "yes." you say quickly, tugging his sweats off and tossing them to the floor. "fuck you, by the way." you spit, flipping him off. he grins and it's fucking beautiful, his smirk, his red cheeks, heaving chest. budding hickeys bloom over his neck and chest as he catches your hand, tugging you forward over him, whispering, "you're about to."

you roll your eyes, ignoring the butterflies in your chest, hand falling over his as he pumps himself. your thumb swipes over his tip, spreading his precum before opening the condom he'd pulled out of his pocket (you don't even want to know why he brought one with him to study) and roll it onto his cock.

and then you’re pushing aside your panties and stabilizing yourself on bill’s chest. you line yourself up on him and look to him for one last confirmation. he nods, “quick fucking around, babe.” he says, but his voice sounds desperate and his cheeks are flushed and you let out a strangled moan as you sink onto him, the nickname making your stomach flutter. you have to stay and give yourself time to adjust to his size, his moans swallowed by your own mouth as your tongue swipes his. his hands roam your body, squeezing your hips, your ass, your breasts and then rising to cup your neck and back.

“shit, bill.” you whimper as you slowly start to move up and down. his eyes fall shut in pleasure and his head tilts back, exposing the entire expanse of his throat for you to claim, his hands falling to your hips. your eyes watch his thin necklace shine in the faint light from your lamp and he's filling you up perfectly.

he looks like fucking heaven.

you kiss his neck lightly as you pick up the pace, bouncing on him steadily as his fingers grip the sides of your thighs.

“fuck, y/n.” he whispers, staring at you with his lips caught between his teeth. the feeling of him stretching inside you and hitting the perfect spot has your legs shaking already, breathing heavily. he’s soon surging up, kissing you deeply as groans fall from his lips, his arms rising to your waist to hold you as you move.

"you're much better when you're not talking." you mutter as you fuck yourself on him, moving your hips as you bounce. he rolls his eyes, "i'd fuck you every day if it meant you wouldn't come ruin my fun every night." he quips back, eyes challenging. and your hand rises to squeeze around his throat, at first as a joke, but then he smiles brightly, a smirk that stirs something in you and you squeeze ever so slightly, the feeling of his pulse making you moan.

his smirk sends butterflies through your stomach, pleasure swirling in your core. but then his own hand rises to your own throat, squeezing lightly.

you moan, unable to keep it together. "you think two can't play this game, y/n? it's like you don't know me." he tuts, seemingly pleased as you're flushing, gasping as your legs stutter, his hips moving up to meet yours, strokes hitting you deep. “i don’t,” you whisper, and he hums.

your legs stutter after one particularly satisfying thrust and he grabs your hips, lifting slightly and biting his lip as he starts to thrust up into you. “oh, my god,” you moan as he hits your g spot and he curses under his breath.

your hand comes up to rest on the wall behind him as you meet each other half way, hitting a spot deep inside you that has you moaning his name loud enough for anyone to hear. you hope to god your next door neighbors are out.

he presses his lips to yours and you know its to get you to stop being so loud - it makes your toes curl in pleasure. then his thumb snakes its way to your lips, his grin widening when your lips immediately part and suck on the finger, humming around it as your hand rests on his neck, the other over his abs as you bounce.

"so pretty like this, y/n." he leans up, then, sitting up more and changing the angle, making you gasp with a moan as his hand snakes around your waist, pulling you closer to his face with the hand on your face. he pulls his thumb from your mouth with a light pop, your legs barely riding him at your proximity, instead steady on his hips, his cock warm and stretching you. "do you think you'd look pretty under me?" he asks. you swallow, moving your hips again and sliding on his cock, movements making you stare at him, pleasure building.

"i think you would." he whispers, hand still on your neck. you whimper a bit, sliding off of him, allowing him to climb over you, kissing you soundly before pulling you to the edge of your bed, legs hanging off as he stands in front of you. lifting one leg, he kisses your knee and holds it up as he teases your slit with his cock before sliding into you again, causing you to let out a loud moan, his own melding with yours.

your eyes roll back at the new angle, legs shaking as his fingers dig into your thigh. “wanna see your f-face when i make you cum.“ he mutters, hand rising to thumb your lip, dragging your bottom lip down.

"you think you're gonna make me cum?" you bite, knowing no man you've been with has been able to.

you watch as his eyes admire the half-lids of your eyes, the blissed, fucked-out look on your face. your chest is littered in blossoming hickes, varying from pink to dark red and slightly purple already.

he says nothing in response to you, but pulls your leg further open, spitting down onto your cunt, making you moan lightly, the action being terribly sexy. his thumb finds your clit and starts to rub perfectly in counteraction to his thrusts, his lips finding your nipple.

you gasp in pleasure, panting as you start to wonder if he really is going to make you cum. then his thumb rubs circles on your clit and as he presses lightly, you can’t hold off any longer. “fuck,” you hiss as you hit your peak, your orgasm making your legs shake. you can’t help it, gasping and bucking your hips as you clench against his cock in bliss, your orgasm causing you to tug his hair in ecstasy. “so pretty.” he mutters against your neck, pressing kisses to it as you’re moaning and arching your back. "so good, cumming for me." he says cockily. you're panting as you whisper, "shut up," his hips still pounding into yours.

“god, you're such a sweet talker.” he mutters sarcastically as you look at him desperately, his eyes fall shut in bliss, a deep groan leaving his lips, you can tell he's close.

"and you're such a gentleman." you jest back, pulling him closer by his shoulders, eyes shutting in bliss. he hums, strokes getting sloppier, "i let you cum first, didn't i?" he counters.

you huff a laugh, something in your heart twinging in affection. you kiss him so you don't say something stupid, moving your hips with his. a few strokes and he's pulling you closer to him by your back, whimpering into your mouth, “y/n, fuck.” beautiful moans fall from his cherry colored lips as he cums, and you just stare at him in awe, surprised by how hot it is as he says your name. he rides his high and then falls off of you, onto the mattress between you and the wall.

"hey," he says after a few moments of you both catching your breaths, your hands overlapping on your stomach but not nearly holding hands. it makes you feel warm in a weird way. excited, nervous.

"what?" you ask, turning to stare into his eyes. he smirks, "you think we woke up the downstairs neighbors?" he whispers, eyes alight with tease.

you shove him, smothering him with a pillow while he laughs, pulling you onto him.

tag list: @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @stenbrozier @sft-core @clownsloveyou @moon-shine-baby @daughter-of-the-stars11 @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @kait16xo @upamongthestarss @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @diorbubs @leighjaenikhowell @groovybimbo @deepestofwaters @unfortu-nate-ly @sassy-uris @loverloserrr @hauntingkaspbrak @soph-ec @hockslutter @babytortie @decafcoffeew

#bill denbrough #bill denbrough smut #losers club x reader #losers club smut

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realcube · 3 years

Text

moan in their ear prank

characters ♡ tsukishima, tendō, iwaizumi, kenma & suna

content warning ♡ cursing, kinda crack in iwa’s, suggested punishment, sexual references, fem!reader & nsfw themes - minors dni

kei tsukishima

♡ you meant for it to be a harmless prank but everything you do to him while he is trying to study ends up as harmful towards yourself-

♡ you just had to sneak behind his desk and chair to grab your backpack which was lying on the other side so in the process, you casually leaned in to his ear and produced the most hushed, pornographic moan that you could

♡ his eyes widened as he turned to look at you with an expression which was filled with a mix of disgust, shock and horny. which resembled the look he pulled when you asked him what a Iguanodon is

♡ it took a moment for him to lubricate his dry throat and process what you just did, but once he thought of a suitable response, he blurted out, ‘what the fuck was that?’

♡ a sly smirk graced your features, you didn’t even spare him a glance as you dipped down to grab your backpack and pull it over your shoulders, ‘nothing.’

♡ once you finally laid eyes on him, you couldn’t help but snort at his stunned look which you rarely got to see as most of the time, it’s extremely hard to catch him off-guard, ‘anyway, i should probably get going. see ya lat--’

♡ though, you couldn’t even turn around before tsukishima grabbed your wrist be glad he was sitting down or else it would’ve been your throat- , ‘you’re not going anywhere.’ then he proceeded to pull you onto his lap

♡ you giggled at how uncharacteristically bold he was being before placing a kiss on his cheek, ‘that was hot, i’ll admit. but i really need to get going - i’m in a bit of a rush.’

♡ his seductive smirk fell into a frown and he was quick to drop his bedroom persona, ‘fine, then. go be a whore somewhere else.’ he said, abruptly pushing you off his lap and focussing his attention back on his work

♡ you gasp, luckily finding your balance after he pushed you then making your way to the door, lingering there for a moment just so you could peer over your shoulder and hum, ‘alright. but you know i’ll always be your whore, kei.’

♡ tsukishima exhaled sharply through his nose, adjusting his glasses as the corner of his lip pulled into a small smile, ‘unfortunately for me, yes.’

♡ a few moments passed and you must’ve been admiring his effortless beauty for a bit too long as he suddenly turned to you and snapped, ‘i thought you were in a rush? why are you just standing there?! it’s freaking me out- or are you gonna moan for me again?’ he chuckled at his own teasing but when he saw that you were giving him love-dovey eyes again, a light blush tinted his face as he waved his hand for you to go away, ‘whatever, just get lost. goodbye, i love you & all that stuff.’

satori tendō

♡ he was sitting on the couch playing a game on his phone or sumn and nothing interesting had been happening lately so you took it upon yourself to make something interesting happen

♡ you approached the couch and plopped down next to him, your mouth hovering over his ear for a few moments - your hot breath tickling his skin - before you moaned in the most erotic way possible

♡ he physically perked up then twisted his neck to look at you with an amused smirk, ‘someone’s horny.’ he commented, his attention quickly returning to his game

♡ you were excited to see his reaction but that was so underwhelming-

♡ your bottom lip jutted out to form a pout as you poked his cheek, ‘yes! aren’t ya gonna do something about it? i always help you when you’re horny!’

♡ ‘i’d love to help you out, princess. but i’m on the 48th level of candy crush. priorities.’

♡ you blinked rapidly, your gaze flickering between the phone screen and your clown of a boyfriend, ‘you know there is like..over eight thousand levels, right?’

♡ he side-eyed you with his eyebrow raised as if to say ‘fr?’ and you simply nodded in response

♡ the app was soon deleted, ‘fuck that.’

♡ he tossed his phone aside and sighed as he stared into the void since he thought that his entertainment for the next few hours had been lost

♡ but being the caring girlfriend you are, you were quick to swoop in and tilt his chin up to meet your longing gaze, ‘no, fuck me, satori.’

♡ and he did so gladly

hajime iwaizumi

♡ you did it to him when you saw him just lookin scrumptious asf while he making was pasta for dinner

♡ you slipped your arms around his waist and nuzzled your face into the back of his neck like you usually do when he cooks

♡ but this time, you hopped onto your tip-toes, lightly thrusted against his back and moaned quietly in his ear

♡ to your surprise, instead of getting flustered or mad, he just laughed

♡ though, it wasn’t one of his cute, toothy-grin chortles; but rather an intimidating string of low chuckles - as if he was mocking you

♡ which he was

♡ you raised a brow, peering over his shoulder to see if he was perhaps amused by something else but unfortunately for you, he was ready to meet your gaze with a deadly glare

♡ so yeah..you were railed on the spot <3

♡ you may be wondering what happened to your pasta but dw bc he rearranged your guts while adding oregano to that shit-

♡ multi-tasking king ✨👑

♡ like you were bent over the counter, face pressed against the cold marble and you stared directly at the fire of the stove beside you which tickled your face with a warm sensation as iwaizumi filled you up with an even warmer sensation

♡ one of his hands massaging your waist while the other was stirring the pot

kenma kuzome

♡ your first mistake was doing it to him while he was streaming

♡ his camera was broken but the show must go on so it was just his voice + minecraft gameplay + you but the fans don’t need to know that

♡ since his camera was off, kenma allowed you to sit on his lap as he played but under two conditions: you will not talk or make any noises and you can’t interfere with his game

♡ a small price to pay for some kenma snuggles :3 so ofc you obeyed

♡ well, for the first hour or so, at least

♡ after a while, it got boring just watching him play so you brought out your switch and started playing for yourself but even that became boring quickly too

♡ then the idea hit you

♡ you were straddling him hence his ear was already by your lips, so it’s not like you’d have to move from your position

♡ plus, his mouth was very close to the mic so if you were quiet enough, the viewers probably wouldn’t hear a thing

♡ though, you didn’t do too much reasoning, you kinda just acted on urge when you leaned in, pressed your lips together and hummed a faint moan

♡ his eyes widened and he visibly froze - if he had cat ears, they’d jolt upwards

♡ his gaze immediately landed on the chat to ensure that nobody was going to mention it but his sudden silence probably made it more obvious that something happened

♡ the chat wasn’t flooded with inquiries but there were a few questions as to why he paused and if he was alright; so fortunately for your ass, it appeared as though nobody had heard a thing

♡ kenma hesitantly continued mining, explaining through gritted teeth, ‘oh, sorry, guys. my cat-’ he paused to pull his head back to shoot you a deadly glare accompanied by a snarl, ‘won’t shut the fuck up. shoo, kitty, we can cuddle later.’

♡ he waved his hand and you buggered off before you got caught cackling at the fact he called you ‘kitty’

♡ his chat genuinely believed him and he got a few donations solely bc they found out he’s a cat person

♡ so yeah, if anything you did him a favour but that didn’t stop him from fucking you into next week as soon as the stream ended

rintarō suna

♡ any excuse to fuck any excuse to fuck any excuse to fuck any excuse to fuck any excuse to fu

♡ you’re just sitting on his lap, cuddling - as y’all do - when the idea occurs to you

♡ but a mistake you made was that you carried out this prank with no intention to actually do the dirty- you just wanted to see his reaction

♡ he thought you were just craning your neck out to place a kiss on his cheek but when he hears your melodious moan ring through his head, he turns to look at you with an eyebrow raised

♡ ‘that’s no way to ask for my dick. try again, but nicely this time .’ he snickered, lightly patting your head, clearly amused by your little pout

♡ honestly, he has such a soft spot for you - like you just existing near him makes him feel all warm inside 💕

♡ furrowing your brows, you whined, ‘i don’t want your cock, anyway. it was just a joke to see ho--’

♡ ‘you’re so horny for me, it’s kinda embarrassing.’

♡ his cocky smirk was simply met by your blank stare

♡ there was a long while of silence between the two of you; which you spent wondering why you were even with him while he was entranced by the thought of your pretty face with his dick half-way down your throat <33

♡ until eventually he broke by whipping off his shirt, lassoed it around your neck and pulled you in so your lips crashed against his, ‘you sure?’

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mlmxreader · 2 years

Text

Big Sick Bat | Bruce Wayne x m!reader

request: hey! could i request a bruce wayne x male reader (he/him pronouns)? the plot is basically taking care of a stubborn sick bruce.. he's sick but refuses to stay at home and rest bcs hes batman, but reader eventually convinces him to stay and rest

with some fluff and cuddles involved if possible

ty! - anonymous

summary: Bruce is sick, and Alfred knows only one person who can prevent him from leaving the Manor.

pronouns used: he/him

warnings: sickness, swearing

author's note: this is what it's been like for me for a week since I've had this fucking stress cold dhfjdjdjdm

Alfred was worried the second Bruce started coughing and sneezing, it was rare for Bruce to be sick, and when he complained that his head was fuzzy and his hearing was duller than usual, Alfred couldn't stop himself from getting you over to Wayne manor; for all his efforts, Alfred knew that he wouldn't be able to stop Bruce from being Batman, even when he did his best disappointed father voice accompanied by the same look, he knew he wouldn't be able to stop Bruce.

But he hoped that you could, he hoped that the bat's boyfriend could prevent him from leaving until he was better, and when you rushed over, Alfred quickly ushered you to Bruce's room.

You took one look at Bruce and sighed. He looked like shit. He was trying to hide it, too, holding down wet coughs that tickled his throat like a feather, trying not to wince when the tip of his tongue pressed the roof of his mouth, trying to breathe through his blocked nose. He was trying to hide it like a dying animal.

"Alfred sent you," his voice was hoarse and quiet. "Didn't he?"

"He did," you took a seat at the edge of his bed, and allowed your hand to rest on his thigh over the duvet. "You're sick, Bruce."

Bruce scoffed, sitting up and letting out a cough that coursed through his entire body, forcing him to hunch over and to gag and retch. "I'm fine."

You scoffed, shaking your head as you ran a hand through his hair before resting the back of your hand against his forehead. "Fucking Hell, you're on fire, sugar... you ain't right."

He frowned, swallowing thickly and letting out a wheezing sigh. "It's just the new cleaning products Alfred uses, I'm allergic."

"No, you're not," you shook your head, worry coating your features and your eyes. "You're sick as a dog."

"I'll be fine," he grumbled, lying back down and coughing again. It sounded like his lungs were full of rocks. "I can go out tonight."

You stood up and shook your head. "Absolutely the fuck not. You're staying here... I'm gonna go ask Alfred to grab a few things up the shop, and I'm gonna stay here and babysit you til you're better."

"Babysit me?" He joked, although it was weak from his dry and cracked lips.

"Babysit you," you confirmed in seriousness. "You're a stubborn asshole, and if I take my eyes off of you for one second tonight, I know you'll be out."

Bruce chuckled, shaking his head as he closed his eyes tightly and coughed again; his sides and chest were hurting, and his throat stung from it. "I'll be fine."

You rolled your eyes, and since it was daylight still, you dared to leave him so you could grab Alfred.

"Master (y/n)," he smiled. "How is he?"

"A sickly stubborn ass," you chuckled. "Can I be a pain and ask you to grab some stuff from the shop?"

Alfred nodded. "Anything you need."

"Oranges, orange juice, uh, runny honey, and tea," you paused, thinking if there was anything else. "And paracetamol."

"Got it," he went to go grab his coat. "I won't be long."

"You're a miracle, Alfred!" You called after him before heading back to Bruce's room.

You kicked off your shoes, and took off your belt before getting on the bed next to Bruce; you pulled him into you, letting his head rest just beneath your chin, his harsh breathing was a grating sound that worried you to no end, and the coughing was just awful.

"I said I'll be fine," he muttered. "I'll be back at it by tonight."

You sighed, tutting softly. "Bruce... if you go out there tonight, you're gonna get your ass fucking kicked by a pigeon. You're in no shape to go anywhere. Gotham will survive a week without you."

Bruce was adamant though, letting out a serious of long and harsh coughs before he could finally speak, "the city needs me, (y/n), it needs Batman."

"Batman is no use to them if he can't fucking breathe," you pointed out.

Knowing there was no other way, Bruce caved, his body relaxing as he let out a few wheezes. "Fine, I'll stay home."

"Thank you," you breathed out. "Now, Alfred's gone to get some stuff that'll help, but I'm gonna stay right here and look after you til you're better."

Swallowing thickly and wetting his lips with with tongue, Bruce groaned. "What if you get sick?"

"I'll be fine," you shrugged. "Unlike you, I'll just rest."

Bruce chuckled, although the mere action brought on another fit of coughing, his stomach and chest spasming as he did so. "So, when you're not at next week's gala, what do I say?"

"(y/n) couldn't come, he's sick," you replied, "you can tell the truth, Bruce."

He nodded. "You don't have to look after me."

"Oh, I do," you told him. "For one, I'm your boyfriend, and it'd be shitty of me not to. Two, you can't be trusted to not be Batman. Three, you can't be trusted."

"So you've gone from boyfriend to babysitter," he joked.

"Pretty much," you chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "But til you're better, we're gonna lounge around, rest up, and anything you need, me or Alfred will get it."

"You'll get me anything I need?" He asked softly.

"I'm not kissing you," you told him sternly. "Wipe your nose and then I might, but I ain't doing it right now."

#mlem writes #bruce wayne one shot #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne #batman imagine #batman x y/n #batman x you #batman x reader #batman #the dark knight #tdk

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jackrrabbit · 4 years

Text

Spoiled Rotten /// Overhaul x f!Reader (18+)

Request: What if Overhaul fucks spoiled rich reader because her dad owes the yakuza money and in exchange Kai takes the daughter as a form of payment using her as his personal stress doll whenever and wherever he wants making her into his perfect little doll

A/N: While I was writing this my roommate asked if I was okay bc cause I kept stopping to fan myself and blush lmaooooo god I’m such a brat. I did change the concept up a bit, hope that’s fine!

This is dedicated not only to the OG requester but also to everyone who read the excerpt I posted a while back and told me they couldn’t wait to see the finished product!! Love you guys ❤️

Tags/warnings: threats, dubcon/coercion, dom/sub, brat taming, degradation, exhibitionism, restraints, mentions of forced prostitution, verbal & physical harassment, kidnapping, kinda breath play?, long

The first thing you notice when you come to are voices. Multiple people talking to each other, speech overlapping in patterns you can’t make out. They’re quiet—not whispering for your sake, but quiet because you’re still half knocked-out and you can barely hear.

The second thing you notice is the pounding in your head and the lingering smell of something sweet spread over your nose and mouth.

The third thing you notice is the fact that when you try to blink your eyes open, your lashes brush against something soft and dark. You’re blindfolded…and gagged, and your hands feel like they’re cuffed behind your back. From what you can sense around you, it seems like you’re hunched in a kneeling position with your cheek flattened against the floor and your bare feet tucked under your backside.

At least you’re still in your nightgown. You can feel the frilly silk of it, a useless barrier between your skin and the cool air, and it reminds you of how you got here in the first place.

A loud noise in the night. Your father’s voice pleading. A heavy thump. The door to your bedroom banging open and a strange man holding you down to your bed…lifting a sweet-smelling rag to your mouth…telling you to “take a deeeeep breath, princess.”

“Hey, I think she’s waking up.”

An invisible hand fists itself in your hair and you whine in pain as your upper body is lifted off the floor. Once you’re properly upright, you hear squeaking, shoes against concrete, and the heat and breath and presence of someone behind you. Something rustles at the back of your head—you’re too scared to move so you stay still—and then the blindfold is being lifted off your face.

Once it’s gone, you have to blink for a moment even despite the low light of the dingy room where you’ve…apparently…been kidnapped. By the freaking yakuza. And for some reason, they’re all wearing bird-beak masks.

You close your eyes, almost wishing they hadn’t taken the blindfold off. You’d prefer to live in blissful ignorance of how decidedly unclean the floor is. How dare they let your face touch it? What happened to honor among thieves?

“Do you know why you’re here?”

Against your will, your eyes flick up to the speaker. He’s the only one sitting, and somehow that gives him a position of power among the others. The leader?

Unsettling golden eyes rest on yours, and you realize he’s waiting for your answer, so you slowly move your head from side to side.

“Didn’t know about daddy’s bad habits, huh?” This time the person speaking is behind you, the one who untied your blindfold, a thin man with lank, greasy blond hair. He’s the one who drugged me, you remember in a surge of panic, and you try to stand up away from him only for him to step on the chain that connects your handcuffs, jerking you back and pinning you—painfully—to the floor.

“Careful, Setsuno. I told you not to leave marks. Let her talk.”

“Got it, boss.” The blond—Setsuno—fumbles at the back of your head and then he’s pulling the gag out of your mouth.

You open and close your mouth a few times to stretch out the stiff muscles. “Oh. My. God. Was that polyester you just took out of my mouth? Do you have any idea how bad synthetics are for sensitive skin? I’m totally going to break out.”

A hush falls over the little room. You could hear a pin drop.

“…Are you complaining about the quality of the fabric we gagged you with?” the leader asks after a second.

“You may be yakuza, but you don’t have to act like savages,” you reply primly, aligning your knees together and sending a proud look off to the side.

“Ohh…little princess deserves better, does she?” Setsuno coos. He edges closer to rub his cheek against yours and laughs when you cringe away from him. “Boss, you shoulda seen her bedroom. All pink and frilly, looked like royalty lived there. Bet they treat you like a real princess at home, huh? No wonder your daddy’s in debt.”

“Daddy isn’t—“

“Your father…took out loans from my gang. My men came last night to collect,” the leader says, drumming his fingers over the armrest of his chair impatiently.

He’s wearing plastic gloves. Why is he wearing plastic gloves? Immediately your mind is spinning, imagining all the different gruesome possibilities of what they’re going to do to you. “That’s ridiculous. My daddy doesn’t need to borrow money—“

“Clearly he does, because it looks like he pissed it all away on his daughter.” The leader’s eyes are cold enough to make you shiver—although maybe that’s just the icy temperature of the floor soaking through your nightgown.

“He had a couple payments overdue, so we stopped by to ask nicely for him to pay up,” Setsuno says, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Didn’t find too many valuables in your house, but then we got our hands on a real treasure.”

“Don’t touch me—“

“You don’t seem to understand the position you’re in,” the leader says. “When I made my contract with your father, he understood that obligations like these are inherited. Since he can’t pay his debt, you’re going to be working it off in his place.”

Working it off? You swallow. Somehow you don’t think he’s talking about your little part-time job as a receptionist at your daddy’s company. “You can’t make me do that.”

“I’m not sure you’re getting the gist, princess,” Setsuno hums. “What we’re gonna do is we’re gonna put you in a room, and then men are gonna give us money, and then we’ll let those men fuck you. All that money’s gonna go toward paying what your daddy borrowed. Sound good?”

For the first time since you can remember, you’re shocked speechless. They’re going to…what? But you’re a quick thinker, and instead of letting these filthy, awful gangters boss you around, you raise your chin haughtily to look directly into the leader’s eyes. “I don’t think so. If Daddy’s the one who got himself in debt, you can make him whore himself out to pay it back. You can’t hold me responsible for something he’s done.”

Another brief silence, and then you hear a whistle echo out from the corner of the room (and you try not to look toward it, reminding yourself that this can only get worse if they know how scared you are). “She’s got a mouth on her, Overhaul,” someone says.

Overhaul. So the leader’s name is Overhaul. How ridiculous; it sounds like a villain’s name.

“Aww, princess,” Setsuno says, and once again his voice is too close for your comfort. “Little spoiled princess doesn’t know how to shut her mouth and suck it up when things don’t go her way? Well…you’ll learn.”

You don’t want to know what he’s talking about, although if you thought about it for more than a second it’d be obvious. You suck in a harsh breath and the cool, damp air stings against your dry throat. “You can’t just make me—“

“Ohh, I think we can. See, if your daddy’s been spending all of the Shie Hassaikai’s money on his precious daughter, don’t you think you owe a little too? Like, this dress—“ you jump as Setsuno’s hand tugs on the thin, floaty silk— “was bought with Overhaul’s money, so it belongs to him, right?”

You keep quiet, not wanting to prompt him to go further, but when his hands stroke up over your waist to grope your breasts in full view of everyone else in the room, you don’t really have to guess.

“And, y’know, your daddy’s been keeping you nice and healthy with Overhaul’s cash, making sure you grow up into such a pretty girl…” Setsuno’s voice is a purr in your ear as his hands squeeze your tits almost lovingly, then pinch your nipples through the fabric. “So hey—if you think about it, this tight little body…belongs to Overhaul too. Isn’t that right, sir?”

You squirm in place as best you can but with the metal cuffs digging into your wrists, there’s nothing you can do to get away from his touch. You’re desperate enough to shoot a terrified glance up at the leader—surely there are rules about treating an innocent girl like this, even for the yakuza—but he looks as unmoved as before. “Get her out of my sight. We’ll give her a rest for the next few days, and then…”

“No!” you yelp, too panicked to keep up the pretense of confidence. “I won’t, I can’t do that, please don’t make me—“

“Shhh. You’ll get used to it, princess. And if you don’t…” Setsuno’s hand combs though your hair and then trails down your neck, tracing the path of your spine between your shoulder blades. “…well, you won’t really have much of a choice, will you?”

And then he’s tugging on your cuffed hands, pulling you to a standing position, but you wriggle away from him and do everything you can to stay planted on the ground so they can’t take you away from here, away from the only man who is capable of stopping this. Overhaul. “Please! I’m— I can work it off another way! I’ll be useful— I’ll—“

Overhaul leans forward a fraction in his chair, and you wonder if you’ve caught his interest. “What, exactly? How do you think you can be useful to me?”

You bite your lip and wrack your brains, not knowing whether the question is rhetorical. What skills do you have that would be valuable to them? Suddenly all the knowledge you’ve gained in your short life seems so meaningless. You’re a decent receptionist (well, decent is a stretch), but if Overhaul wanted someone to answer calls for him you’re pretty sure he would’ve asked.

Why did you spend your life learning such impractical skills? The four-year weekend course you took on horseback riding jumps to mind and you want to hit your head against the wall. Why didn’t you ask your father to sponsor a class in something that would actually matter in the long run? And what would even be useful to these people? Accounting? Bookkeeping? Extortion?

There’s nothing valuable you can offer. You’ve wasted your life, and now you’re going to pay for it. Seriously, the only thing you’re actually good at is keeping your boyfriends (or, rather, the men you cycle through once a month) happy until the novelty wears off and you get bored and move on to the next lovesick target—

—wait. Keeping your boyfriends happy. That’s a skill, isn’t it?

Once, a little bit after you turned eighteen, you’d had a rather illicit conversation with one of your more sexually adventurous friends about being a sugar baby. Your friend had just secured a very generous benefactor, and you’d been so intrigued by all the designer purses and vacations to Cabo that you’d almost considered trying it for yourself. She’d even helped you set up a profile on Seeking Arrangements that listed your physical features and interests, but you’d blanched when it came time to post photos.

“But why do men even like this?” you'd asked your friend after your picture-less profile received its dozenth unsolicited offer. “Rich, successful guys shouldn’t have so much trouble finding girlfriends that they have to resort to paying for sex.”

“It’s a power trip,” she’d replied. “Most men never get the chance to have a woman who’s willing to do and be whatever he wants, whenever he wants it. You’re his ideal girlfriend, his therapist, his wife, and his stress relief all in one.”

At the time, you’d decided against it, deleting your profile and telling your friend you’d rather just keep taking advantage of your real father doting on you than have to fake orgasms for rich men in their 50’s. But back then, you’d had a choice; now that you’ve been kidnapped by a gang who wants you to get fucked by a bevy of strangers to pay off a debt you’ve never even heard of, you no longer have the privilege of a way out. Or, at least, the options are a lot less appealing than before.

You tilt your head back to Overhaul, eyeing him for the first time with real scrutiny instead of prideful disgust. Judging from what you can see of his face under the ornate bird mask (and again, what is with the freaking bird masks?), he’s fairly young, mid-twenties at the oldest. Short, sort of wavy dark hair (you’ve always had a thing for dark hair), a trim suit and tie, and those eyes. Like he can read your mind just looking at you.

He’s…handsome enough, you have to admit to yourself. But it’s not just that. There’s something pristine about him, something untouchable that commands discipline. He’s clean. You and him are probably the only clean things in this hovel of a room.

“Well? I’m waiting,” Overhaul says.

And now that you’ve got the idea in your head, it’s almost too embarrassing to meet his gaze. But you can do this; you have to do this. At least it’ll be your choice, and—you’re hoping—it’ll be better than the alternative.

“I could be yours,” you tell him, taking pride in the fact that your voice isn’t breaking.

His eyes narrow and you think god, his eyelashes are long. It’s not fair. Men never appreciate having long eyelashes. What is he thinking? Is he going to kill you for even suggesting it? But it’s too late now…you have to dig yourself a little deeper if you don’t want to go through with their original plan for debt fulfillment.

You force your muscles to relax, knowing this’ll be impossible to pull off if you’re tense and biting down on the words like they’re going to choke you. If you’re going to make him believe it, you have to make yourself believe it too. “You… This job must be hard. Even for a—a powerful man like you, it has to be stressful, right? Always looking out for the interests of the gang instead of your own…needs.”

Overhaul doesn’t move, but you’re so focused on him it would be impossible for you to miss the way a single muscle in his neck flexes. You’ve hit a nerve.

You take a cautious step toward him, trying to channel the sexually-liberated vixen you consider yourself when you’re not in your nightgown surrounded by men who could murder you with their bare hands and not miss a minute of sleep. “You’re always giving, aren’t you? Looking toward the future of the gang? Doesn’t it get frustrating when—when a pretty thing is in front of you and you don’t even get…a little taste of her?”

Oh god, you can feel the humiliated heat rushing to your cheeks. How can you be saying this? You’ve played the role of seductress plenty of times before, but never in such a risky situation. You just have to keep moving toward him and hope it feels authentic enough to convince him.

“You’ve worked hard. And…like he said, my—my body belongs to you.” Now you’re close enough to Overhaul and he hasn’t stopped you, so you lower yourself onto the floor, knees bumping softly into the cold surface. Kneeling between his legs.

Overhaul stares down at you, gaze as sharp and cold as before—and you’re sick with anxiety, so scared you can feel your hairs raising up on end—but if he wanted you to stop, he would have said something, right? So you shuffle a little closer and nuzzle your cheek over the inside of his clothed thigh like a kitten, then raise your head up to him to give him your best bedroom look, the one that says, I want you. I need you. No one but you. The look no man has ever been able to resist.

“…You deserve something to yourself, sir,” you murmur.

There’s a collective intake of breath as every person in the room simultaneously realizes what you’re offering. Overhaul’s expression doesn’t change, but once again, a tendon jumps out white under the skin of his throat and there’s a creak of latex on leather as his grip on the arm of the chair tightens.

“Damn,” Setsuno says under his breath from behind you. Someone whistles. You’re pretty sure you hear the word ‘slut’ being tossed around, but there’s reverence behind it.

“And what makes you think you’re so valuable?” Overhaul asks.

You close your eyes to ground yourself for a second. He’s interested, you know that much. You’ve never really had to convince someone to want you, but there’s a first time for everything. Besides, you only have to look at him for a second to know he does want you, which isn’t a surprise. Who wouldn’t?

“I’ll do anything you want, be anything you want,” you tell him, echoing your conversation with your friend back then. “Take out your anger on me if that’s what you’re into. When you’re tired of me, you can consider my debt paid and let me go.”

“And?” he prompts.

‘And’? And what? You’re offering yourself to him, your body and your mind—what more can he possibly ask from you? You cast your thoughts around, wondering what else you have to give him. “And…and I’ll do it willingly. You, um—you look like a man who appreciates obedience.”

And that’s it. Your last shred of pride is gone. Not only are you offering yourself up to a man to use as his personal stress doll, you’re saying you’ll be compliant every step of the way. Knowing yourself, you’re pretty sure that’s impossible, but you just need to make him believe it long enough for you to find a way out of here. You can pretend to enjoy getting fucked by a gangster a few times. You’ll live.

But you’re naive. And with the stream of thoughts pushing through your head, you never really consider one thing, one essential thing: how you look pleading up at him in that pale pink nightdress—soft, pure, immaculate against the filth of the underworld, the only clean body that Overhaul’s seen in a long time.

And you’re right. He is a man who appreciates obedience.

“Willingly…so you’d be willing to prove it.”

Your head jerks up and down in response. Yes! He’s taking the bait, now I just have to get him alone and—

“Then demonstrate.”

When a moment passes and you don’t move, Overhaul tips his head to the side, gaze still locked on you, and gestures vaguely at his lap. You blink and then shy back, shrinking under the hungry gazes of the onlookers. “You can’t mean—in front of them?”

“And here I thought you were going to be obedient.” There’s no mercy, no amusement in his voice. No hint of humanity.

So he’s serious. He wants you to give him a blowjob in front of—how many? one, two three, four—four other men!? Your first instinct is to jump back away from him and your next is to slap him for even suggesting it; you can actually hear the jingle of your cuffs as you attempt to raise your hand. You’ve gotten a little kinky before—blindfolds, vibrators, maybe a hand tied to the bedpost with a Hermès scarf once or twice, but this is a whole different level. And the way they’re all looking at you…like they’re itching to see you brought down. How absolutely disgusting.

But Overhaul’s waiting for your answer, and you know full well that you’re not going to deny him.

“O-Of course.” You lean forward over the seat of the chair so your face is just inches from his lap. “Um. My hands...?”

They’re still cuffed behind you, but it seems like they’re going to stay that way when Overhaul gives a curt shake of his head. “Use your mouth.”

Once again, you’re stunned into silence. How are you supposed to—? Without your hands? It doesn’t even seem like he’s going to undo his pants for you. It’s like he wants to humiliate you…oh, wait. As soon as the thought crosses your mind, it’s clear that’s exactly what he’s trying to do.

You give him another doe-eyed glance, bidding him to at least undo his belt, but he remains unmoved. Bastard.

After aiming another glare at him (because as obedient as you’re attempting to be, you’ve never been good at concealing your emotions) you lean deeper in and take the stiff leather of his belt between your teeth, gently easing it out of the buckle and trying to ignore the mixture of earthy and metallic tastes it leaves on your tongue. It takes a few tries, but eventually you’ve got the tail of the belt out of the buckle and you pull your head back to guide the metal down until the belt is hanging open from its loops.

A rush of accomplishment surges through you when you get it open, and then you want to slap yourself. Accomplishment? From doing this with your mouth like an animal—like a dog? You can hear laughter and mocking encouragement from the men watching, but you steel yourself and dip back in to get Overhaul’s pants undone. The button is tricky, especially with your face nudging into the hard muscle of his abdomen through his shirt, but somehow you manage to tug the fabric slit over the button and then—delicately, delicately—clamp the zipper between your teeth and peel it downward.

“Oh, she’s good,” someone says from the background. Setsuno. You look up warily, but Overhaul’s eyes haven’t moved from you.

Now that you’ve got his pants open, you’re face to face (literally) with what you’re going to have to deal with. The outline of his cock is bulging the fabric of his boxers outward, and he’s not even half erect. You snatch a look back up at him—and damn it, you have to stop doing that, because every time you look into those golden eyes and that stupid bird mask you feel like a lamb looking at a bird of prey right before it snatches you from your safe little lamb-house in the meadow and—fuck, you just have to get on with it.

So you dip down and mouth over him through the fabric, spreading the flat of your tongue over the length of his thick cock. Your mouth feels like you’ve been eating cotton (probably because they drugged you earlier) but you force yourself to salivate, letting drool spill over your tongue and dampen his boxers. When you duck and spread your lips down on the place you can feel the tip stretching out, you know the friction must feel good, because despite the lack of even so much of a deep breath from the man above you, his cock is getting harder.

You nudge your mouth over the tent between Overhaul’s legs again, letting the heat of your breath wash over him—but when he doesn’t do anything, you pull back and blink up at his face. Does he expect you to get him off through his underwear? You could, but most of your moves depend on skin-to-skin contact. There’s no way you can get his cock out with your mouth like you undid his pants, so…what? “Are—are you going to take it out?”

Overhaul brings a gloved hand to his face to rub absently at one of the straps on his mask. “…Beg,” he tells you.

Your mouth drops open and you reel back from his lap like he asked you to lick the dirt off the floor. What!? He can’t seriously expect you to—to beg him to put his dick in your mouth when you’re clearly disgusted at the whole situation. When he doesn’t give any indication of retracting the statement, you can’t help the mocking sneer that forms over your face. “Please, sir,” you spit, and a deaf man could hear the spite in your voice.

Now, that gets a reaction. Overhaul’s eyes flash and you take a certain degree of pride back at the anger you’ve clearly inspired in him. But it’s extinguished as soon as you see it, and then he’s reaching down to cup your chin, tilting your head back and rubbing his thumb over your lower lip.

“I think you can do better than that, princess,” he says, and you can hear your own mocking tone reflected back in his voice. “Unless you’d like me to give my men a turn?”

This, more than anything, scares you. He must be able to feel the way your spine goes stiff, adrenaline rushing, your fight-or-flight instinct kicking in at the prospect of what he’s threatening.

“Each of them, one by one. Between the four of them, I think they could cure that smart mouth…although they might just break you in the process,” he continues, and then his thumb is pressing into your lip, into your mouth, and you loosen your jaw to let him in. You can taste the rubbery latex of his gloves and the other men mutter agreement, encouraging their leader to turn you over to them, and you want to cry.

But you hold the tears back. “Please, sir! Please, please may I s-suck your cock sir? Please!” Your voice is more terrified than obedient, but that’s probably what he’s into anyway. When he doesn’t say anything, you babble on, unwilling to let yourself get gangbanged by a group of men who could probably wreck your pussy in a single round. “Please, please, Mr.—Mr. Overhaul, um, boss? M-Master?”

“Sir will do just fine,” Overhaul says, apparently satisfied, and he pulls his hand away from your face to free his cock from his boxers.

You let out a hot sigh of relief and angle yourself back toward his lap so you can zero in on his cock (and, hopefully, do a little to block out how sickeningly degrading all of this is: how easy it is for him to threaten you; how he has all the power and you have none; how the men around you are goading you, taunting you and calling you things that should get their mouths washed out with soap). You can focus on this, and this, at least, you’re good at. You’ve always been good with your mouth.

It’s a nice dick, too, you have to admit to yourself as you stare at it. Perfect length, girth, and a thick, cut head that you know just by looking that you’re going to have to stretch your jaw to get around. All his hair is neatly trimmed and groomed, and he even smells good, clean and fresh like soap. You’ve never been in front of a dick that didn’t smell like day-old ball sweat, so this is a first. It’s got a nice upward curve, too, and there’s a bead of pearly precum oozing out of the tip. The kind of cock that’s made for penetrative orgasms—

No. Fuck. You cannot be thinking this. You cannot allow yourself to lust after a gang leader who thinks of you as little more than an interactive sex doll. A tingle of blood rushes to your cheeks as you feel wetness pool in your panties and you adjust your stance, shuffling your thighs apart under the pretense of getting closer and hoping Overhaul doesn’t notice.

If he notices, he does the merciful thing and keeps quiet (which makes you think he has no idea you’re feeling the way you’re feeling, because he’s probably never chosen to do the merciful thing in his life). He does, however, shift one of his knees farther apart to accommodate you as you crawl close enough to him to get your head all the way between his legs.

So now you’re staring up at that unfairly pretty cock and wondering how the fuck this is supposed to start, but—best just get on with it. Pretend it’s not him, pretend it’s…no, wait, pretend it is him, it is Overhaul, the same bastard who’s looking down at you like you’re trash, except pretend you’re in control. Because no matter how many orders he gives, once you’ve got his cock in his mouth he’ll have to be the weak one. Right?

Lightly, slowly, you trace the tip of your tongue in a wet path up the underside of his cock, sliding up from the hilt to caress every bulging vein with all the delicacy and accuracy of a surgeon. When you reach the tip, you flatten your tongue to curve it around that bulbous head and then slip it off, the suction providing a wet smacking sound as your skin leaves his.

The breath of his barely-heavier exhale ruffles your hair and you relish the knowledge that he’s getting impatient. Yes. The bastard can wait.

You kiss the tip of his cock, barely moving your lips around the slit, only enough to let your tongue flick out against the precum and gather the bitter liquid up in your mouth. And then—right when he’s getting annoyed, when you can tell by the tension in his body that he’s five seconds away from shoving your head down to fuck your face—you duck closer, relax your throat, and swallow.

Like a fucking python. Or so you’ve been told.

The exhale that escapes him isn’t light this time. You can almost hear the barest hint of a groan under his breath, but you’re more focused on holding down your gag reflex as you let that heavy cock hit the back of your throat. Once he’s all the way down (or at least as far as you can get him), you rock yourself back an inch and then take him deeper, forcing yourself to hold still so he can feel the walls of your throat convulse around him, sucking him in, dry-gagging on the mass that’s filling you up.

“Fuuuuck,” you hear someone whine, and it’s not even Overhaul. It’s one of the men watching, and you feel a perverse mixture of hatred and arrogance rise up in you.

Overhaul’s cock is too big for you to properly moan around it, but you give it a go anyway so he can feel the vibration of your voice through his skin. You’re rewarded with a tangible twitch with it sitting on your tongue, and—oh—your mouth is watering out of where you’re clenching down on him at the back of your throat.

Spittle slips out over your lower lip and onto your chin, but you ignore it in favor of jerking your head up and down in fractional strokes, trying your absolute best to get yourself down to his base but knowing that he probably doesn’t give a shit anyway, not with how good your throat feels around what you’re capable of stuffing in.

What were you saying about ‘valuable’, sir? you think, and then you pull your head off his cock, so slow it’s almost cruel, sucking your cheeks in and hollowing out so those wet walls are rubbing up on every millimeter of his skin. When you reach the tip, you savor it, letting your tongue do the dirty work and looking up at him through your lash extensions before you release him with a nasty wet pop.

“Holy fuck, can I have her next?” one of the other men says, but you and Overhaul are too focused on each other to even look and see who’s talking.

His gaze is trained firmly down at you, and—no way, damn it—he looks bored, like he could be waiting in line at the DMV instead of getting sucked off by you, a girl who’s been complimented by every man she’s ever been with (including her first) on her bj technique. You know he’s feeling it—he can fake calm, but he can’t fake the way his cock’s throbbing under your tongue as you lick up the shaft. Still, now that you’ve got it in your head that Overhaul’s not going to make a sound, all you can think about is forcing him to moan. Let him look weak in front of all his little lackeys.

With renewed vigor, you lap up the length of Overhaul’s cock in sloppy dabs, leaving strings of saliva dripping off your mouth and his cock only to slurp them up, audibly, wiggling your tongue over the tip when you reach it. And that, that gets him, because you feel more than see the buck of his hips into your face as he hisses out a curse.

And—oh dear, maybe you shouldn’t have done that—because the next thing you feel is Overhaul looming forward over you, hand gripping the back of your head, and is he going to force you down? You hate that—so you take the initiative, tilting forward to take him into your mouth again, head bobbing up and down so quickly that your hair is falling all over your face, but it’s okay, because he’s got you, he’s got you, got his hands combed through your hair holding it out of your face, pulling so lightly it barely even hurts, but it does hurt, and he’s guiding you up and down on his cock and it’s hitting the back of your throat every time, and—and it hurts.

You really shouldn’t have done that.

“Take it deeper,” Overhaul instructs, almost encouraging, although you’re not given the option to pull off because he’s holding you down, pushing you firmly toward the base of his cock. You sputter around it, gagging, and you’re almost fucking choking, and he won’t let you up.

God, you’re not—not breathing, you can feel your throat choking down on him—“breathe through your nose,” he says, and this man, this villain has no idea what he’s fucking talking about, because you’re trying, eyes stinging and then you can feel tears down your cheeks. You try to squirm back on your knees, but somehow the combined force of every muscle in your body is outmatched by his single hand on the back of your head—and—and—you squeeze your eyes shut, relax, open your throat as much as you can and—

Overhaul forces your mouth down to the hilt.

Fuck, is he going to keep you there? You can’t, you can’t—if you could move, you’d be shaking your head and begging him to let you stop and as it is you’re whimpering around his cock. Your throat is making gagging noises and you’re crying, actually crying, actually fucking crying on a man’s dick. So this is what it feels like to be used?

“Good.” There’s something lower and darker in Overhaul’s voice, a husky undertone from the growl he’s trying to suppress. “Hold still…remember, you asked for this.”

You did. You asked for it. Begged for it. Pleaded.

“Want me to forgive your father’s debt…? You’re going to have to earn it.” He pulls out an inch just to ram himself back in. You make a weak attempt to move your tongue around his shaft and you can feel the shudder all the way through him, his cock twitching where it’s locked in your throat. “Mm…good girl. Just a little—little longer—“

His fingers are tightening in your hair, curling around the strands and tugging instead of just applying pressure to your head. He’s close, you think, and then you struggle back, not wanting him to cum down your throat, what if you choke on it? Like, really choke? You don’t want it, don’t want his cum in your stomach, but then he sighs and tells you again that you’re a good girl, and ohfuckohfuck you must be so scared you’re desperate for praise because you feel heat rush into your cheeks and your cunt when he says it and you try to move your tongue like you did earlier and his hips jerk forward and—he cums. In your mouth.

It’s salty, you think. The next thing you think is that you want to gag, because you’ve never had cum in your mouth before. For all your sexual experimentation, you’ve never let a man cum down your throat like this, always telling them it shoot it on your tits or whatever because you are not a person who should have semen in her mouth, much less ingest it.

But right now, with Overhaul lazily dragging your head up and down for a last couple pumps on his softening dick, your choice isn’t spit or swallow. It’s swallow or choke.

Hot. Thick. The texture is slimy, so viscous you can feel it going down your throat in strings. Part of you wants to throw up. It’s repulsive. Filthy. You hate this.

Part of you has to shift your position again so you don’t have to feel your own wetness slicking up the insides of your thighs.

How. Is. This. Possible. You may have just had to swallow your pride (and not just that), but what about your dignity? You’re a good person…okay, well, even if you’re not a ‘good person’ per se, you don’t hurt anyone with your selfishness. You don’t deserve to be kept as a pet by a sadistic bastard who gets off on watching you almost pass out on his cock, and you certainly don’t deserve the humiliation of finding that you’re turned on by it.

And yet. Here you are. Still held securely in place until Overhaul slides you off him. As soon as your mouth is free you suck in a dizzyingly deep breath, but even that is too much for your battered throat and the breath turns into a cough; you instinctively fold down away from Overhaul so the mixed saliva and cum you’re hacking out spatters in cloudy white flecks across the floor instead of on his clothing.

“Stop that,” Overhaul scolds, hauling you back up by your hair and forcing your mouth closed with a hand on your jaw. “If you make a mess, you’ll be cleaning it up.”

Considering what he just made you do to him, there’s no doubt in your mind that he’s implying you’ll have to lick it off the floor. You clench your jaw, holding back the convulsions of your throat as best you can, and hope he doesn’t press the issue.

Now that you’ve got your coughing under control, you can start to sense things that you had been tuning out before: the men hooting and wolf-whistling and applauding your performance, the traitorously persistent throb of your clit pulsing under your panties, and Overhaul’s hand releasing your chin to pet down your neck. “Now. What do you say when someone gives you a meal?”

Just you wait, bastard. I’m going to tie you to your bed and set fire to it. But you’ve got the sense that that answer won’t go over well, so you take a deep breath and look up at him again, meeting those piercing gold eyes with your own. “Thank you, sir,” you say in a soft whisper because it’s all your abused throat can manage.

“That’s right.” His hands feel colder than the concrete under your legs as he spreads his hand down your neck, only to toy with one of the lacy pink straps of your nightdress. “Stand up.”

You stand shakily, too cowed to even consider stepping back from him. Without warning (much less permission), Overhaul lifts the hem of your stupidly short dress up past your thighs, exposing your panties and lower belly to view.

“Hold this in your mouth,” he says, and after only a few seconds of hesitation you open up and bite down on the fabric so you’re effectively holding up the skirt for him. Overhaul skims gloved hands down the sides of your hips and comes to a rest when he reaches your panties—and why did you have to wear these today? Shiny red satin in the front; the back is just flowers worked in crimson lace. You know exactly how good you look in these panties, and judging by the things Overhaul’s men are saying, they’re more than appreciative of the view.

But Overhaul ignores them in favor of hooking his fingers under the elastic and pulling the panties down until they’re resting stretched between your upper thighs. You don’t have to see them to know there’s a string of slick connecting the lips of your cunt to the fabric, betraying in full technicolor detail how turned on you’ve gotten just from sucking him off. He gazes down at your pussy and then up to you as if waiting for you to admit it, but you stay silent.

“Well, well. What a nicely-trained slut I’ve found myself.” He gracelessly pulls the panties the rest of the way down your legs and lets them fall to the ground. “Do you always get this wet when you let your boyfriends fuck that smart mouth?”

It takes you a second to comprehend that he’s expecting an answer. “N-No, sir,” you reply, voice muffled by the fabric you’re still holding between your teeth.

“I suppose I can’t leave you like this, not after you took me so nicely.”

Does he mean he’s going to get you off? No freaking way. You drop the hem of your dress, let it flutter down over your thighs, try to scramble back, but his hand on your waist keeps you from moving. “I— It’s okay, I don’t need—“

“No, I think you do. I think I’m going to reward my pet for a job well done.” He leans back, eyeing you without sympathy. “I’d have you touch yourself, but—“

The mere possibility that he might remove the handcuffs has you straining against them again, and the sound of metal against metal rings out from behind you.

“—but, I think it’s best to keep the cuffs on for a few days…until you’ve settled down.”

Days? He can’t leave you in chains for days, helpless and powerless, so easy to take advantage of. “You can’t,” you whimper, and even though you mean for it to be a decisive statement, with your throat ravaged and hoarse it’s downright pathetic. Overhaul doesn’t even bother reprimanding you for talking back.

“My men have been patient,” he muses, and an enthusiastic wave of agreement wells up from the others. “Any of them would be happy to do it.”

You may have been through a lot in the past hour alone, but there is no way you’re going to let those rowdy criminals have their way with you. You send a nervous glance around the room and as predicted, not a single one of them looks like they have the slightest shred of control over themselves.

None of them…except Overhaul.

Still eased back in his chair, he looks just as relaxed and unaffected as he did when he was explaining your father’s debts to you. But there’s something flickering in his eyes, something he isn’t going to say to you, isn’t going to say out loud. A challenge.

Maybe, once again, he’s waiting for you to ask for it yourself. And if it’s a choice between him and one of the grimy ruffians who’ve been looking at you like dogs look at meat, you know what you’d prefer. Well—really, you’d prefer option C: none of the above (your current state might be uncomfortable, but you’re not so wanton that you’d rather cum in front of strangers than keep your legs together). Unfortunately, you’re starting to come to terms with the fact that ‘no’ is no longer an option.

Overhaul’s stare flicks from you to an unseen figure behind you, and you can tell he’s about to summon one of them over so you force yourself to move, lurching forward and climbing into his lap to straddle one of his thighs with all the grace you’re capable of. You feel the stir in the air when he inhales sharply, surprised, and his masked face is so close to your neck that you wonder if he can smell the lotion you put on before you went to bed last night.

It’s one of your favorite scents: vanilla, lilac, orange blossoms. You bought it because it smelled pure.

“Please, sir, I don’t want them,” you breathe next to his ear, injecting every ounce of sexual frustration you’re feeling into the needy tones of your voice. “I’m yours. I belong to you, just you. No one else—please, sir…Overhaul.”

He’s quiet for a long, tense moment, and you think he’s going to hit you, or maybe even kill you for your disobedience. Push you off his lap at least. But just when you’re teetering on the edge of jumping back from him and begging for forgiveness for talking out of turn, you feel it—a low rumble of laughter from deep in his chest.

Big, cold hands wrap around the sides of your ribcage under your breasts and his fingernails dig into you through the layers of latex and fabric. He tilts forward, forcing you to arch away and all you can think about is how horribly weak you are compared to him. Are you trembling? Will he be angry if you feels how afraid you are?

“You know, I guess I’ll keep you after all,” he hums, stroking his fingers through your hair and down your neck. “How does that sound, princess? I think you’d like that very much, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, sir.” The response comes all too easily, even if the words taste bitter in your mouth. You’ve never said the word ‘sir’ so much in your life…but as he repositions you on his lap and slides a single hand up the inside of your thigh under your dress, you bite your lip and decide to hold back your protest.

If you’re going to have to learn manners, you’d better do it sooner rather than later. Something tells you Overhaul’s not going to accept any less than your best behavior if you want to pay off your debt.

#overhaul x reader #chisaki kai x reader #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #overhaul #chisaki kai #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia imagines #mha x reader #mha imagines #boku no hero x reader #boku no hero imagines #boku no hero fanfic #smut #tw dubcon

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chiwhorei · 3 years

Text

𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭

cross-posted to Ao3!

pairing: issei “horse cock” matsukawa x fem!reader

genre: smut, 18+ mdni

word count: ~4.4k

tags: stripper!issei, stripper!seijoh, roommate!oikawa, tendoukawa (bc @heauxzenji said it an it’s now the only ship in my head) dry humping, lap dance, a little corruption, spitting, public, alcohol and recreational drug consumption (weed and coke), spanking, degradation, hardly edited

a/n: howdy! this is my contribution to the smut pile’s western collab and it is so incredibly late but what the hell else is new. the masterlist for the collab can be found here! @messwriting and myself, in true chaotic duo fashion, built an absolutely depraved multiverse of seijoh strippers: the lawbreakers. lee, i love you so much. this journey we’ve been on the past few months has been chaotic and beautiful, and there’s plenty more to come.

the multiverse: hanamaki || iwaizumi || kyoutani

hymn: save a horse (ride a cowboy) by big & rich

and all the girls say— save a horse, ride a cowboy

A fog of smoke burns in your eyes. The room around you feels like it could curl in on itself, four walls marked sparsely with dusty furniture, the smell of weed and cash.

You fix your gaze onto a long, diagonal tear in the leather couch across the must and g-strings, the rip in upholstery is stuffed with wrinkled one dollar bills.

It feels like observing an exhibit at a museum, or a zoo. Lines of coke, random dustings of pot and discarded swisher tobacco, too many open handles of liquor. Sitting on an end table is a bright pink teddy bear with a cowboy hat on it’s head.

How the fuck did you get here?

***

You shift your weight on either foot, arches aching already. The pair of jeans and top you had planned on wearing tonight were all but ripped off of your body, casual boots thrown down the hallway with sadistic glee and replaced with heels that are taller and a dress much too short.

“Damnit, you’re walking too fast.” Your appointed captor turns around dramatically, stopping in his tracks to watch you catch up. The cigarette pressed into his mouth cards in two fingers and extended towards you as a peace offering. You take the half gone stick and bring it to your lips.

Tendou’s mission was simple, drag his boyfriends roommate and best friend-- possibly kicking and screaming-- out for a night she won’t soon forget.

“Were those really necessary, Satori?” You point with the remnants of his cigarette and he feigns a kicked-puppy expression, looking down dramatically at his all black outfit contrasting drastically with a flashy pair of brownish-red cowboy boots.

“I am being a supportive partner. Plus Tooru and I wear the same shoe size.” His hair is bright outlined by the neon sign above the building.

You inhale smoke and nicotine, eying him over once again before continuing.

“Does it bother you when he’s dancing on all of those horny women?” The cigarette butt falls to the ground, you snuff it out while exhaling remnant smoke from your nose, the bachelorette party walking towards the door in a parade screaming emphasizes your question.

Tendou pulls you close, mouth pressing against your neck to bite against the skin. You jerk away from his embrace, with a feeble push against his chest to match the scoff scratching against your throat. The tall red head above you, currently leaned into the dip on your neck, always has an air of vulgar humor and zero personal space.

“Watching my pretty little boyfriend grinding on women that would never stand a chance with him,” he pulls away just in time to catch another eye roll before grabbing your wrist to pull you inside, “I think it’s hot as fuck.”

You stumble behind him, the doorman recognizing your friend immediately and lets the pair of you through tacky saloon doors. You catch a glimpse of the tattered sign standing right next to the entrance.

Lawbreaker’s Presents: The Guys of the Wild West

The club is drastically warmer than outside, the chill in your barely covered limbs thaws in a mixture of stage lights and body heat.

You sigh deeply as the sound of country music fills your ears, seemingly in rhythm with the squawking of drunken hens sipping on tall flutes of champagne. Thinking back briefly to when you first signed the lease with Oikawa, you remember he wore glasses and a sweater vest.

He said he worked as a “fitness instructor.”

“Ah, my two favorite people in the whole world,” Tooru’s ears just have been burning at your recollection, as your roommate appears in front of you in nothing but white spandex shorts and a pair of shiny boots to match, a tray of drinks is placed to the side on an unoccupied table. The white cowboy hat on his head gleamed in the low light of the club, rhinestone star shimmers-- you want to shy away from the bright refraction hitting your eyes.

He looks in his element, completely confident and cocksure as he walks around in only underwear and body oil.

“Aren’t you glad you came out tonight? I promise, you’re going to have a great time.” Oikawa melts into Tendou’s side, he looks just as content in the current atmosphere. Tendou seems at home in any ecosystem he wanders into.

“The show starts in 15, go get yourself a drink and try to pull the stick out of your ass. I’m going to, uhm, wish Tooru an extra special good luck.”

“I really didn’t need to know that, thanks. Tooru, break a leg.” You turn around at the sight of the wandering, tattooed hand on it’s journey south on Oikawa’s abdomen and retreat to the bar. You aren’t shocked by the display, not hardly, not with the two of them using almost every surface in your apartment as a debauched playground.

The space around you is emptier than you imagined it would be, but there is still time before the night actually starts. The bartender approaches just as you sit down on one of the wooden stools, every fixture around you is designed to look like an old saloon-- save for the strobing lights and dj booth.

You order something strong and amber, partially to stay in-theme, partially for the nerves settled in your stomach that draft beer wouldn’t be able to curb.

The woman smiles brightly and turns to pour your liquor, leaving you to pick at a cocktail napkin and await your friend’s return.

“You’re Shittykawa’s roommate.” A stranger's voice is deep and bellowing, sounding high above your ear. You swivel in your seat, gaze meeting a tanned chest instead of a set of eyes. Trailing upwards past thick black tattoos and an unavoidable pair of silver nipple rings.

You can feel the muscles in the back of your neck as they strain to meet his chocolate brown stare, he looks amused as you all but gawk at him.

“Yes, uh, I am. And you’re, uhm--” the train of thought you try to hang onto derailed completely by a devastating smile, “one of Tooru’s co-workers?”

If his smile wasn’t enough, his laugh could level the building around you. Your new friend taps the black Stetson against the bar top before putting it back on his head. He gestures broadly to his attire, or lack thereof, with another disarming and smooth chuckle.

“What gave that one away, darlin’?” You realize how stupid your question sounded, mentally kicking yourself but trying desperately not to show it on your face.

Long, thick legs are wrapped in a pair of leather chaps, the tight fabric hides nothing even if it covers most of his lower half. A matching vest hangs open on his chest, the muscles in his arms look bigger than your head. He seems huge in presence and physique, your own form is a shrinking violet below him.

“Your drink, dear. Double Jack n’ Coke.” The bartender slides a glass towards you, and you accept it with a gracious smile. The distraction is definitely appreciated, any excuse to break the eye contact that has you dissolving like lye.

“Jack n’ Coke, a gal after my own heart.” You choke, a coupling of small coughs break out of your chest. You curse your bodies reaction, you don’t even know--

“You’re name, uh, w-what’s your name.” Casual conversation seems like the best option, because it’s only been two minutes with the almost-naked Casanova and there’s a gnawing feeling that you don’t want him to walk away.

You blame it on the alcohol not yet even running through your veins.

“Call me anything you want, pretty girl, but my name’s Issei.”

A smile creeps from one end of your mouth to the other. His presence is jarring to say the least, but there’s something about the way his teeth peek out past curled lips that makes you want to lean in instead of away.

Tendou calls your name, effectively pulling you out of Issei’s orbit and reminding you where you are. Heat flushes in waves on your face as Tendou wraps his long arms around your shoulders from behind. Acknowledging your new friend with a pointed, “Howdy partner,” before turning to order his own drink.

“Something sweet please, and strong.” You hear his voice singing to the bartender but still face Issei, having his attention is more intoxicating than whiskey. You want him to talk to you, to ask you questions, to grace you with that smile over again.

You feel the ability to breathe escaping when Issei leans into you impossibly close, his hand enclosing around your back and pulling you in so slightly you could swear you imagined it.

“It was nice to meet you. Make sure I hear ya’ out there, darlin.”

You’re left almost falling from the bar stool, watching as Issei strides toward the back. The way his hips sway is unfair in every--

“Hey,” Tendou’s fingers come up to snap in front of your face, “Didya hear me? Let’s go take our seats.”

That’s right; you feel like you’ve just run a marathon, heart beating erratically at the briefest interaction, your night hasn’t even started yet.

You’re dragged directly towards the front of the stage and sat in a small two person table. You agreed to the night out between gritted teeth, hauled to the uber with absolute defiance; but most of your protest has fizzled away-- definitely not due to a pair of deep brown eyes and planes of perfectly tanned skin-- as you get comfortable next to the boisterous bridal party. You can hear their idle, drunken chatter at your back.

“I heard they call one of the dancers ‘Mad Dog’. Apparently he’s totally feral.”

“One of them is nicknamed the ‘Big Tease’, he really likes the pretty little brides~”

“Oh yeah? Well there’s one dancer called ‘Horse Cock’. I’m going to go home with him.”

The women behind you howl with laughter, enjoying their friend’s last night of freedom. The straw in your drink twirls idly, thoughts drifting with each turn of the plastic against your liquor. Surely, Issei had just intended a friendly introduction, he wouldn’t be raking in tips by being unapproachable.

Friendly, you decide, repeating it to yourself until the lights drop and a black curtain is pulled up, he was just being nice.

* * *

The show starts out mostly how you would expect. Through a few sets, toned, beautiful guys take their clothes off and fling articles at the screaming, panting crowd. The table next to you gets the most attention, bridal parties, you assume, would be the prized cash cow.

Oikawa comes out in the most obnoxious, white and teal outfit and strips into nothing but a thong and boots. Every inch of his skin sparkles, the cause becoming obvious when he jumps down to the audience and swivels his hips and ass right into your lap. Your hand comes up to his hip reflexively to brace yourself-- of course, body glitter.

You watch on at the sweaty writhing of the most beautiful men you have ever seen in real life. The atmosphere around you is absolutely contagious, it’s impossible not to fall into the rhythm, losing inhibitions with every stray piece of fabric as it’s tossed into the sea of women.

Just as you lean over to Tendou to admit that you’re enjoying yourself, the next song blasts loudly from the speakers. The beat vibrates your table, soaking into every nerve, but is almost drowned out completely by the shrieking from every patron around you. They must know what’s coming.

Looking back up front, you realize why the crowd is losing their minds. The man that commanded your attention at the bar is even more alluring now. His strut to center stage is deliberate, flashing smiles and winks to no one in particular and hypnotizing every person in his reach.

Issei is stunning in his element, soaking in the reaction with a humble tip of his hat. You could swear, though you’re sure that it’s just your imagination, that he’s looking right at you.

His performance starts out like the rest of them, but each movement of his tattooed hands as they travel over his chest is spellbinding.

Issei discards his leather vest and tosses it to the side, it feels like you’re watching him in slow motion. He’s gorgeous, skin tanned and tight over thick muscle, arms wrapped in black ink and shining with sweat.

His chaps are next, ripped from his legs just as music behind him picks up. The wedding party next to you so loud you swear the laundromat next door can hear.

All that’s left is a thong that’s barely covering his cock. You try desperately not to, but all your eyes can focus on is the bulge under a tiny piece of black leather. Your thighs rub together in search of any relief to the feeling growing hot and slick in your stomach.

He moves like liquid platinum, every long, deliberate swivel of his hips and overt palming over his crotch is enough to cause delirium. He soaks in every whistle and shriek of his name, vibrating on the high of squelching attention.

Issei is a natural. He’s a wild animal, and, along with every other woman there, you wish he would tear you apart with his canines.

He descends the short staircase with a quick stomp of his boots, now making rounds through the crowd. He stops in front of tables at random, invading the space between strangers and collecting wrinkled one dollar bills.

Why does something so blatantly performative feel voyeurous?

All you can do is gawk, ignoring how every time another woman’s hand runs down his abdomen you heat with envy. As he turns away from the bridal party neighboring you, your blood turns ice cold.

Issei has you, unmistakably, in his sights. His eyes pin you, holding you down tightly in your chair as he struts forward. Tendou whistles loudly as the brunette approaches your table. You wonder, in your last moment of cognizance, if Saroti and Tooru had planned your evening in more detail that you originally thought.

“Long time no see, darlin’,” Issei stands over you, and all you can do is stare dumbly up at him, “do ya trust me?”

You don’t answer, not with words, not like he would even hear your quiver over Big & Rich booming through the speakers. His question is stupid, to trust someone you just met so vaguely?

You do. Against any better judgement, you do.

He doesn't give you the chance to ask what he means, stuck in the gooey feeling of his attention. Issei reaches behind you, picking up your half empty glass. He swirls the drink with an almost evil smile before bringing it up to his lips and draining the last bits of whiskey and coke.

Your face reads confused, not putting his intentions together until you feel his thumb pressed against your chin. Issei’s eyebrow quirks, eyes trained on your reaction. You’re options are to shy away, turning back in your seat, running for escape in the bathroom, or--

The gloss on your mouth is sticky as your lips part in obedience. Issei tries to hide his elation, but it’s difficult to remain aloof as your tongue lulls out and your eyes beg him.

Issei’s hold on your chin tightens, nudging you to lean in so he’s only inches away. Your eyes shut lightly, the shouting surrounding you sounds little more than a whisper with the blood rushing in your ears.

You swear you can hear him groan above you as the sharp taste of liquor hits your tongue. Willing your body to cooperate, you swallow the drink with only a small cough.

His face dips down, it seems like a habit now, to brush his promises against the shell of your ear once again.

“You’re an agreeable little thing, I think you can take it.”

His hands are on either side of your chair in a flash, lifting you up with trained, bulging muscles. You fall forward in your seat, bracing against Issei’s chest. Every cell in your body is tight with tension, if you lift your head up to meet the audience’s eyes, you’re sure you’ll crack like glass.

He steals you from relative comfort, shifting your weight in his arms as he ascends back onto stage. You’ve gone limp in his hold, pliant to his will. The unfamiliar presence at a dusty bar top has turned into more than a front row seat to depravity.

You’re thrown off balance as he sets you down, eyes adjusting to the white hot stage lights. You’re exposed to every set of eyes in the building, even if you can’t see him-- you know Satori is smiling from one sharp cheek to the other. Wherever Tooru is, he’s most likely sitting in the same satisfaction.

Aren’t you glad you came out tonight? I promise, you’re going to have a great time.

Issei rounds the back of your chair so his actions are hidden from your view. The brim of a leather cowboy hat breaches your field of vision, much too big for your head.

His hands come down onto your shoulders, snaking down your bare arms. His touch leaves a scorching fleet of chills. Issei runs his finger tips upwards, tracing against your collarbone before wrapping his grip lightly around your neck.

He can feel it, he has to, the racing pulse right under the surface of your skin.

The music transitions effortlessly, going almost unnoticed. The next song, still sharp with a cheesy country twang, is slower, deeper.

Issei’s thumb brushes against your cheek, your body wants to relax into the touch before it remembers how public the gesture is.

You hold in a shaky breath as he comes to stand in your eyeline again, you might as well be bound to your chair with rope. He looks larger than life-- in both stature and presence-- in front of you. His skin is glistening, refracting from the harsh lights with sweat and oil.

He is an unstoppable force against your will. Your desire to hide from the blinding attention is nothing compared to the desire to please. To please a stranger, to please the man you met only an hour ago.

To please Issei.

He flashes you another wink, taking a moment to rake his stair down your body. He memorizes the outline of your cute little dress, red is definitely your color.

Issei slides across the smooth surface of the stage to meet where you’re perched. The barreling, almost naked body now impossibly close to where your knees are pressed together.

He starts at your ankles, tracing the soft skin of your legs until his palms press flatly against your lower thigh. Issei savors the moment for a beat longer before prying your legs apart.

The crowd below you is loud and hollow in your ears, the shame bubbling up against your cheeks and nose is nothing compared to the pressure between your legs.

Issei’s hands wander up and under the hem of your skirt, scratching his nails on the vulnerable skin before they find his prize in the form of thin lace.

The “Wait” and “Stop” sitting on your lips shrivels up and dies as your panties are ripped off. You see the bright color, the last remnants of opposition twirling around his pointer and middle finger.

The crowd goes wild, watching as your body is made a fantasy that they can all live vicariously by. all you can do is watch as the fabric is stuffed into the side of his thong to accompany fistfuls of singles.

* * *

You’re still in shock by the final dance, still under a trance as Tendou pulls you towards the back. Stumbling behind him to catch up, you’re given no time to think about what you’re about to walk into.

A fog of smoke burns in your eyes. The room around you feels like it could curl in on itself, four walls marked sparsely with dusty furniture, the smell of weed and cash.

You fix your gaze onto a long, diagonal tear in the leather couch across the must and g-strings, the rip in upholstery is stuffed with wrinkled one dollar bills.

“I didn’t go too far did I?” Snapping back into reality, you hear Issei call to you. You’re vaguely comforted by a familiar voice before remembering the man attached had spat whiskey into your mouth and stolen your panties just 30 minutes prior. You heat up at the tips of your ears at the recollection of two things you had let him do, that you had wanted him to do.

Your eyes find Issei sitting on the couch on the opposite end of your freshly showered roommate, seemingly unbothered as Tendou flops down against the middle cushion and drapes both arms across the back.

“Don’t worry partner, our girl doesn’t startle easy.” Oikawa laughs, adjusting to sit across his boyfriend’s lap. Issei’s all leather outfit is replaced with a pair of grey sweats. He looks relaxed, effortlessly handsome.

What was it like, you wonder, before you knew how it felt to look at him? Life past the single night feels grey around the edges.

When was the last time you felt this alive?

He takes a sip of a water bottle, wiping off his chin with the large rose tattooed on his hand. You can’t stop staring at them-- the ones that roamed your body in front of a club full of drunk bachelorettes, the ones that traced your skin like he already had the map.

And now you watch those same hands, so new but so inviting, as two fingers curl inward. They pull you as if tightening a rope around your waist. You wade past tall sweaty men and freshly caught audience members as they tangle across dusty furniture.

You scoot by your best friends from where they sit next to Issei, ignoring the slap to your ass and the following laugh from Oikawa in between loud, sloshing kisses.

“Well, little one,” He pats his thigh, inviting you to the spot on his lap rather than the empty seat next to him, “you’re not gonna run away are ya?”

Every nerve in your body is twitching, you’re not sure if you could run if you wanted to.

You don’t.

Issei takes in your small nod of confirmation, pulling you into his hold. The position is awkward at first, perching on his knee as you try to keep your balance. He laughs, his arm snaking around your back so you relax into him. You fidget with your fingers as they lie against your lap, watching the bustling around you. A cloud of smoke settles in the air, you wonder if it’s a permanent haze of tobacco and pot-- the scent is probably painted into the walls.

“Is this what you expected?” Issei’s voice is low and close to your ear, you can feel the smile curled into his question. Your eyes are fixed forward, watching as Tendou pours a small white line into Oikawa’s collarbone and dives in nose first.

“Honestly,” you adjust, kicking your legs up over his other knee, “I’m pretty used to this kind of stuff.”

Even if your usual scene doesn't include a drug filled almost-orgy, you can’t say you’re fazed much. Not with the company you keep.

Even with the circus revolving around you, Issei is the only thing you can see. Everything else falls away but the smell of his body wash and the soft material of his sweats where they meet your naked legs.

His hand rests against your thigh, fingers just above then short hem of your party dress. The metal rings on each digit are cool against your burning skin. You’re sure Issei can feel the heat rising in your stomach as it spreads through your blood.

You feel him lean back, fishing something out of his pocket to set in your hands. You feel every hair stand on edge as the thin cotton drops into your grip, heavy as an anchor.

“You know what I think, darlin’?” Your breath hitches, the room around you squeezing tight against your shoulders, “I think you’re a natural on stage. I bet you would have let me do anything up there.”

A hand wanders down the path of your spine, rough fingerprints stroke past each vertebrae. You arch at the feeling, his skin is like a narcotic. The liquor still swimming in your mind is no match to this, to the heady smell of sex and sweat as it cuts through your senses.

Issei’s right, you’ll let him do anything to you. You’ll beg for it like you’re trying to pass the gates of heaven.

Your body moves of its own volition, legs swinging to straddle his waist. The material of your dress bunches over the curve of your ass, completely exposed to the room around you before being eclipsed by steady palms.

You would be, should be, embarrassed by the display of public depravity. No one around seems to notice, half naked is still more modest than most everyone else. Tendou and Oikawa have dissolved into a pile of spit and clashing teeth next to you, saving you from any snide quips. There’s nothing but Issei, face an inch away from you and lips tempting you to lean forward.

“Would it make you feel better if I told you I don’t usually do this?”

Glassy eyes flick dumbly at the man below you. He sees the wobble of your lip, the glaze in your stare as you memorize every feature on his face. Any reassurance sitting on his tongue dies when you crash your lips against his, hips rolling down into him and knocking him off guard.

Your kiss is searing and drips with finality. You’ve decided what bed you’ll wake up in the morning with your tongue tracing against his molars.

“No, not really.” Foreheads pressed together, it’s your turn to laugh. If you’re honest, you probably made this decision while still sitting at the bar.

You dip back in, emboldened with the bruising fingers digging against the fat of your hips. The feeling of your cunt pressed against his crotch could bring a man to his knees.

He’s not opposed, he’s just gotta get you home first.

#issei matsukawa x reader #issei matsukawa smut #mattsun smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #the smut pile collab #the smut pile western collab #the lawbreakers: multiverse #tw: drugs #tw: voyeurism #sin.drugs #sin.voyeurism

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hyunsuks-beanie · 3 years

Text

It'll Always Be You

Lee Felix × reader; angst, but with a fluffy ending; 2923 words; lovers to exes and back

A/N So Felix has me feeling all sorts of things today, bc of how good he looked during the performance. So here's a scenario for our Sunshine!

"Here's your order and have a nice day," you smile to the female customer in front of you, before handing a pack of cookies to her child. Once the leave, you let out a sigh and look at your best friend who's cleaning the counter next to you. "All done for today!," you exclaim, to which your friend looks up and smiles, before taking off and folding her apron. "So, what are your plans for tonight?," she asks, making you give her a knowing look. She to her eyes before saying, "How long are you gonna stay cooped up inside your house? The break up was two years ago for heaven's sake, you need to start living your life again." "Hey, I am living my life, it's just that, unlike you, I am not interested in going out and meeting new people every day. I meet enough strangers while working here, so there's no need to go clubbing daily," you shrug.

When all she does in reply is pout, you chuckle and say, "Okay, how about we go for a movie tomorrow? My treat." Her face lights up at that, and she gives you a tight hug before saying, "I really want to meet your ex once though, just so I can break his nose." You giggle "Oh he's dead and gone."

Oh, if only you knew.

Once you send your friend off, you start tidying up your little bakery up. This was the place that helped you get over your breakup, which had been messy to say the least. You had immersed yourself fully in your work, because you knew it was one thing that would never hurt you or break your trust.

You sigh lovingly at the memories of setting up and running your bakery, turning your back against the front door. And just as you are reminiscing you hear the door open, causing you to turn. The moment you do so, however, you regret it, because standing there, staring at you wide-eyed, is your ex, otherwise known as Stray Kids' Lee Felix. You both continue to stare at each other for a while, before he finally breaks the silence (and your trance) by whispering, "Y/N."

You clear your throat, and say, "I'm sorry, but we're closed for the day." He rushes to the and hurriedly replies, "Please, it's rather urgent. My friend Hyunjin is really craving some blueberry pie, and he refuses fo join practice before I bring him what he wants." "I told you, I'm sorry, but I can't help you today. You can come back tomorrow though," you say, not looking into his eyes. "Please Y/N, Chan hyung is getting really angry, he's gonna ground me along with Hyunjin," Felix reasons, and you find yourself giving in to his pleading eyes and pouty lips.

"Fine, wait a minute," you say, making him crack a smile. Boy have you missed that smile of his, you think, before mentally slapping yourself for still not being able to resist him, even though he broke your heart to pieces when he broke up with you over the phone two years ago, telling you that he could no longer do long distance with you being all the way in Australia. It wasn't the breakup that hurt you though, it was the fact that he had found someone better and closer to him, or so he said.

Little did you know, though, that the company had he had never really found anyone else, that he didn't want to find anyone else. The company had made him lie to you when they came to know he was secretly dating. He tried to put up a fight, but the company started threatening him about the group facing consequences. He knew you'd see right through him if he told you the truth, so he had to lie to you in order to make you hate him, just so you could move on in life. He meant well, but he never knew he hurt you so bad that you'd give up on dating and love altogether.

"Here you go," you say while handing him his parcel. He thanks you, while contemplating if he should make small talk. Mustering up the courage, he asks, "How have you been?", while looking down. "Fine," you reply, "Congrats on the comeback." His head snaps up at that, as he says, "I didn't know you knew I had a comeback," "It was all over the news, Felix. Stray Kids are really making it big," you swallow before adding, "Your partner must be really proud of you," complete with a fake smile plastered on your face.

Felix winces at your words, not knowing what to say. In the end, he settles with, "How long have you been running this bakery?" "Since about a month after we broke up." When he gives you a confused expression, you sigh and add, "I was kinda already about to move to Seoul when you told me that you had found someone else. I was gonna surprise you, but you ended up surprising me instead."

"Y/N, I-I never knew. I'm so sorry, I-," he says, but you cut him off. "I-I t-think you should leave," you say, with tears threatening to spill. "Let me explain, please. I swear I'll come clean, please, just give me a chance." "No Felix, I can't give you any chance, you blew it up when you hurt me so bad that it made scared of ever loving again. Please.....j-just go," you say, shutting your eyes close. Dejected, he turns around to leave, but not before saying, "I'm sorry," one more time. Once he leaves, you sink down to the floor, crying. "Why did you have to ruin me so bad?," You whisper.

You don't, however, notice that just outside the door, Felix too, is crying hysterically as he gets into his car.

Upon reaching the JYP building, Felix rushes to the washroom to try and dry his eyes and hide any signs that he's been crying. "I still love you. I never stopped, but gosh, why did I have to be such an idiot to let you go? And that too, in the worst way possible?," he says to his reflection in the mirror, thinking back to your broken expression. Slamming his fist against the sink, he curses at himself.

Once he's finally sobered up a little, Felix goes back to the practice room to give Hyunjin his pie. Though he has half a mind to just call in sick and go home and weep, he knows the group needs him. "Here you go, Hyun," he forces a smile onto his face when Hyunjin thanks him. Chan notices his slumped shoulders, but shrugs it off as tiredness. "Now that everyone is satisfied, can we get back to practice?," he asks. Once all the boys agree, rehearsals begin again, but Felix can't find it in himself to focus. He keeps making mistakes, which finally results in Chan stopping the music, grabbing his hand, and taking him out the practice room and to his studio.

"What is it, Lix? You've been distracted ever since you came back from the bakery. Come on, I know something is bothering you, it isn't like you to lose focus. Tell me what it is," Chan says, sternly but gently, his concern for the younger boy evident. "It's nothing, hyung. I'm just tired," Felix tries to evade the question, but Chan presses on. "I'm not buying that, and I'm not gonna have you distracted during performances or practices, either. I can't risk you injuring yourself or any of the boys, so I'm saying again. Spit. It. Out. Leader's orders."

Felix sighs, running a hand through his hair. After a pause, he finally says, "I saw Y/N today. The bakery, it is owned by them." Chan's eyes go wide at this, since he's the only one who knows the circumstances under which you both broke up, and is also the only one who knows about how much Felix regrets letting you go, in the worst possible way. "What happened? Were they....rude to you? Or did they do something?" "What? No hyung, they were nothing but nice to me. We made small talk, and they told me that they were planning to surprise me by moving to Seoul, when I broke up with them. I hurt them so bad that they are scared of ever loving again," Felix says, taking shaky breaths between sentences as tears welled up in his eyes again.

"I messed up so bad hyung, you know I still love them. They're the nicest, most perfect, most lovable person I've ever known, and I damaged them so badly, gosh I feel so guilty," he breaks down again, causing Chan to wrap his arms around him, giving him a shoulder to cry on. Once Felix calms down, Chan says, "You know what you have to do now, right?" "What do you mean?"

"You say you still love them. You say you're guilty. But instead of telling these things to me, you need to tell this to them. Apologize to them, tell them the whole story. Tell them there was never anyone else, and that it's always been them. You didn't fight for them back then, because you were worried for us. But you can fight for them now, because we got your back. Win them back, Lix. Make up for your mistake."

"B-but hyung, why would they ever want to take me back again? I've been nothing but a jerk to them." "Well, in that case, you can't blame them. But they deserve to at least know the truth. They deserve to know that your intentions were not wrong. If they choose to walk away after that, they will at least have had gotten closure. Who knows, it might help them muster the courage to go out and love again. You owe this to them, Lix."

Chan succeeded in knocking some sense into Felix, as the next day, the younger boy found himself in front of your bakery, preparing a long speech explaining why he did what he did to you. He's so engrossed in his thoughts that he doesn't notice your best friend walk out the bakery and stand next to him. "Uhm, are you okay?," she asks, surprising him. "O-oh, uh-uhm, yeah," says Felix, while noticing her uniform, that's identical to yours. "Do you work with Y/N?" "Yeah, we're friends and partners, and on most days, we work together. But they called in sick today, and told me they'd cover the evening shift. How do you know them though?"

To this, Felix finds himself at a loss for words, but he figures if he's gonna come clean to you, he needs an ally. And what better person than your best friend? So he takes down his mask slightly, making your friend gasp in response. "You Felix from Stray Kids! What are you doing here?" "I-I came here to meet Y/N. We broke up two years ago due to a mistake I made, but I need to explain things to them. They deserve to know the truth." He looks up to see your friend glaring at him, as she says, "That was you? You broke my best friend's heart? How could you? I'm not letting you anywhere near them, you jerk"

"Please, just give me 5 minutes, and I'll explain everything to you. Then you can decide if I deserve one more chance." When your friend doesn't say anything, Felix launches into his own version of things, explaining himself and his actions. Once he's done, your friend is still glaring at him, but he notices a smile tugging at her lips.

"You have been nothing but a complete and utter jerk to them. And honestly, you deserve to get your ass kicked by them. But I know that they still love you, and the way you are repenting what you did tells me that you love them too. So I give you my blessing. They'll be here in the evening at 6, be here before then." Felix hugs her super tight at that, with the biggest smile plastered on his face while thanking her. She adds, "But if you hurt them again, I swear I'm gonna murder you with my own two hands." "It won't come to that, I promise."

Felix arrives at the bakery at 10 minutes to six, and the moment he enters, your friend shoves him into the kitchen, asking him to stay there till you come. Once she leaves, he starts pacing up and down, raking his hand nervously through his hair. He tries to prepare what he is going to say, but gives up when he realizes that it would all go out the window when he sees you.

Meanwhile, the moment you step inside the bakery, your friend pretends to be busy setting stuff up on the counter, and asks you to bring in some things from the kitchen. Unassuming, you start walking towards the kitchen doors, when she notices your swollen eyes and exclaimed "Babe, have you been crying?" You muster up a fake smile and tell him that it's just you not feeling well, but unknown to you, Felix heard your friend, and guilt washes over him again. But he doesn't have time to wallow in it, as soon after, you step in.

The way your expression morphs into one of pure sadness breaks his heart into a million pieces, and when you say, "What more do you want from me?" while holding back tears, it takes everything in him to stop from falling to his knees and begging forgiveness. He tries to speak, but you hold up a finger, indicating you aren't finished. "Now that you've found me again, was it not enough for you to have me admit that what you did to me made me stop believing in love? Do you even want to rub it in my face by telling me how happy your are with your partner? If that is so, then please, just get lost, I'm begging you."

Tears are now streaming down your face, and Felix finds himself saying, "Just please. Let me explain. You deserve to know the truth and my feelings and intentions. If after that, you want me to leave, I swear, you will never have to see me again." You can't look at him, but when you don't reply, he says, "I promise that this is the real truth behind what I did. Please hear me out. I lied when I said I had found someone else. There is no 'someone else,' and there never will be one. The only person I've loved, the only person I still love, is you. It'll always be you."

"The company made me break up with you, and threatened me that the group will face consequences if I didn't do as they had asked. I that that if I outright told you the real reason, it would hurt you. And so, I decided to lie to you in order to make you hate me, even if it broke my heart. But never did I ever think that it would damage you so badly, and I know I've been stupid, but I can't help but ask for you to forgive me, and give me one last chance. I know I've been a total jerk to you, and even now, I'm being nothing but selfish, but I just want you to know that I still love you. I'll understand if you want nothing to do with me, and I'll walk away forever. But you deserved to get closure, and I hope that if you do choose to give up on me, you will now be able to love again, and trust again."

By the time he stops talking, the both of you are sobbing hard. You ask him, "Are you done?" When he nods, you say, "You say that you will walk away if I choose to give up on you. But do you really think I'll be able to give up on you? If I couldn't stop loving you even when you broke up with me in the cruelest way possible, what makes you think I'll stop loving you now that I know that you went through the same pain as me? You knew what the truth was, and you still had to hide it. I can only imagine how hurtful that must have been, Felix. I hate myself for believing your stupid lie, for ever doubting the love you had for me. I'm sorry, and I forgive you."

Felix looks up at you, surprised. It takes him some time to process your words, and when he does, he asks you, "What does that mean....for us?" To this, you shyly reply, "Well, I never stopped loving you, and if you didn't either, then should we give us another try?" Felix smiles the brightest he has in ages, as he slowly comes closer to you. Cupping your face, he wipes off your tears, as you proceed to do the same. "I promise I'll never let you go again," he says softly. You giggle and say, "You'd do well to keep that promise," before biting your lip.

"Is it okay if I kiss you?," he asks. You nod in response, causing him to gently place his lips on yours. And for the first time in a while, you feel like you're home.

187 notes · View notes

ppersonna · 4 years

Text

make me - myg | m

strawberries on a summer evenin'. baby, you're the end of June. i want your belly and that summer feelin', getting washed away in you - watermelon sugar, harry styles

↳ summary- an ordinary sleepover with your best friend turns into anything but ordinary, thanks to your ridiculously loud neighbors above you.

↳ rating- explicit / 18+ / nc17

↳ word count- 4.4k

↳ pairing- yoongi x reader

↳ genre- pwp lol, smut, fluff, somehow the dirtiest fluff i have ever written bc there’s some depraved shit in here

↳ warnings- penetrative sex, oral sex (m/f receiving), unprotected sex (dont...pls), dirty talk, rough sex, degrading talk, dom/sub undertones, bratty backtalk

↳ a/n- yooooo dawg this... was fun. i hope you enjoy!! ive been in my yoongi feels lately uwu. feel free to comment, message, dm, whatever u want babes. i love you!

Yoongi thinks if he has to hear your upstairs neighbors fuck for another minute longer he might actually go crazy.

It’s been hours now. The girl is screaming like a feral cat and the man is doing a terrible impression of a porn star, trying his best to talk dirty but really just calling the howling banshee awful names.

If only his dick would be as annoyed as his brain.

He knows you’re awake next to him too. The steady rise and fall of your breathing changed when the bad porn above you began—now it’s faint and too quick to indicate anything but your wakefulness.

“Ohhhhh oppa!” The girl above you screams.

It’s finally what breaks down the silence in your bedroom. At her wanton sound, you and Yoongi are unable to stop yourselves from bursting into laughter.

Yoongi’s stomach hurts from laughing so hard. Tears form at the corners of his eyes as you make the bed rumble from the force of your combined laughter.

“God, do they think that sounds hot?” You finally ask after settling down to mere giggles.

Yoongi shrugs and wipes away his tears. “Apparently. He must like the way she sounds like a dying cat.”

His comment sends you into a spiral of laughter again, and you’re clinging to your chest as it heaves with exertion.

Yoongi is your best friend for a reason. No one makes you laugh as hard as he does. No one understands you the way he seems to be able to—it’s almost intuitive the way he can understand your feelings.

You live for your weekly sleepovers. You drink wine, watch terrible horror films, gossip about your other friend’s love lives, and fall asleep in your bed together. It’s never been anything but blissful.

Until recently…

When your heart decided it would beat too fast around him. When your brain decided to spin and weave stories of romance with your best friend.

Now, you can’t hardly think about anything else around the dirty blonde haired boy. It’s overwhelming to all of your senses when you see him, feel him near you. You want to kiss him, to love him, to tear his clothing off.

Which makes lying in your full size bed while the neighbors above you fuck and attempt to act out their wildest fantasies—badly—so much harder than usual.

“God,” Yoongi sighs and tugs the blanket up to his chin. “Does she even like it or do you think she’s faking it?”

You wrinkle your nose in disgust. “Ugh, I know I wouldn’t be into it.”

“You don’t like dirty talk?” He teases with a poke to your stomach. It makes an eruption of nerves go off in your chest.

“Oh, no I do. But that’s not dirty talk,” you shrug. “He’s just being mean. There’s no sensuality underneath it.”

He hums and lays back down to stare at the ceiling.

“Give me an example,” he asks of you. It makes your cheeks flush red and you’re thankful for the darkness in your room to provide you cover.

“Um, well,” you cough awkwardly. “He’s saying shit like ‘you fuck anything don’t you?’ which, maybe she’s into degradation, but I’m not. Not that extreme.” Your explanation sounds lame, but you continue anyway. “I prefer to hear things like ‘this slutty little pussy belongs to me’. Possessive and hot at the same time without being too...uhh...hurtful.”

Yoongi feels his cock rise with piquing interest. There’s a nagging guilt about thinking of his best friend this way, and a tinge of jealousy thinking someone who isn’t him has said that to you.

He feels his throat dry up, and you wring your hands nervously on the blanket. The moaning above you doesn’t stop, and you can hear the telltale sound of flesh slapping on flesh, indicating they’ve commenced into penetration and it makes your body throb with annoyance, and with want.

There’s moments when a louder slap echoes through the room—it’s clear the man is slapping her somewhere—and she whines desperately. Your core starts building that familiar heat, a slickness gathering you can’t stop. You press your thighs together tight and squirm as subtly as you can. You pray Yoongi doesn’t notice.

Yoongi, however, does notice. He breathes a sigh of relief internally knowing he’s not the only being affected by the commotion above. But he doesn’t understand the meaning behind it. For all he knows, you’re just turned on because—well, because it’s sex and it’s loud and who wouldn’t be a little turned on? You’re likely not at all aroused by him, or the thought of him. Right?

Another slap echoes through the room and you can tell by the way the girl gasps that her partner slapped her in the face.

“Damn,” you shiver. Yoongi turns to peek at you through the darkness.

“You into that?” He asks curiously. “Face slapping?”

It’s hard to swallow for a moment—it feels like you’re trying to down a boulder.

“Uh, yeah,” you whisper. “Yeah, I like pain.”

Yoongi doesn’t reply and it makes you fear you’ve overstepped the line. You’ve gone too far off the ‘best friend’ track and the whole train is about to de-rail.

You’re opening your mouth to apologize for taking it too far when Yoongi finally speaks.

“Fuck it,” he sighs. “You want to fuck louder and establish dominance?”

The world stops turning. You’re sure that gravity doesn’t exist anymore and the theory of relativity has been proven wrong.

Did Min mother fucking Yoongi, your best friend of over twenty years, just offer to have sex with you to...establish dominance over the neighbors above you attempting to make a cheap porn?

He’s looking at you normally, but there’s a glimmer in his eye that says more. It says he wants you. Your stomach twists in on itself. There’s no way, there is no actual plausible way that the man beside you feels the same way about you as you do.

“You want to have sex with me?”

Yoongi’s cheeks turn pink and he looks away for a minute.

“I also want to date you,” he murmurs.

If you thought the world ended before, you’re sure this is the fiery explosion that brings a new earth into life with a bang.

The noises from upstairs interrupt the romantic moment with a scream, a guttural howl from the man, and then muffled whispers and sighs.

“What do you say we keep them up all night too?” His mouth turns to a smirk as he awaits your reply.

“Yeah,” you nod as you throw the blankets off you. “Fuck those guys, lets show them what real kinky sex looks like.”

Yoongi’s eyes turn feral as he works his eyesight down your body. Your normal sleepwear outfit of a tank top and shorts looks like lingerie to him now and he’s salivating at the way he can see the curve of your breasts, and the press of your hard nipples against the fabric.

You’re throwing yourself onto Yoongi’s body in an instant, pinning him down to the bed and pressing your lips to his. You waste no time in waiting for him now that you know—now that you’ve heard with your two ears that Min Yoongi not only wants to fuck you, but date you as well. No use wasting any more time—the time for action is now.

The kiss is hot and Yoongi’s hands falter for a moment in surprise before he’s coming to his senses and tugging at your tank top quickly to pull it off your body. His hands feel hot on the bare skin of your back, rubbing at your spine and up to your shoulders. It makes you shiver, and you slide your tongue into his mouth to explore the heat inside.

His hands navigate forward to cup your breasts, fingers toying with your nipples—pinching and pulling and rolling between the pads of his fingers. It has you keening into his touch and grinding down on his basketball-shorts-covered cock.

Yoongi pulls away from you and pulls at a nipple harshly, which makes you gasp out loud.

“It’s real cute how you think you’re in charge right now,” he points out. “Real fucking cute. It’s gonna make me almost feel bad for punishing you.”

You’re sure your soul is going to leave your body at hearing your best friend’s sexy baritone voice verbalize your dirtiest fantasies. If this is how you react now…, may God have mercy on your poor little pussy.

Yoongi thinks he’s possibly never been harder than he is right now. His best friend, best girl, is sitting atop his boner and he’s twisting your pretty nipples so hard they’ll surely turn purple soon. You sound so sweet when you whine, and you’re starting to whine louder as he continues the pressure on your tits.

“You thought you could take control, didn’t you?” He asks, slipping further and further into the dominant act. He loves this, thrives off it. He didn’t think you’d ever be into it—none of the girls he’s dated before have—and he’s thrilled he doesn’t have to hide this depraved part of himself.

You nod and bite your lip, wincing as he tugs once more on a nipple before letting go.

“Cute,” he sighs. “But wrong.”

In an instant, he flips you two over and he feels his heart and cock swell at the sight of your sweet eyes widening at the quick change.

“This feels better, don’t you think?” He asks. You nod and he shakes his head. “Answer me, baby doll. You’re already about to get punished. You wouldn’t want to make me not let you cum, would you?”

The fear in your eyes increases and you clear your throat to talk.

“No sir, I don’t want that.”

Yoongi nearly moans. Hearing you call him sir, being underneath him—it’s his wet dreams come to life.

“Then tell me,” he instructs. “Tell me you need me in charge.”

You’re dying to be a brat, really wanting to pull Yoongi completely out of his shell, show him the full extent of what he can do to you. Plus, you really wanna give your neighbors a show—a taste of their own medicine, don’t you?

“What if I don’t want to?” You tease.

Yoongi’s grin turns wider and his eyes sparkle with knowing. He’s a through and through brat-tamer, and by the end of the night you’ll be crying for forgiveness.

“Little tease,” he growls as he leans down to latch his mouth on your abused nipple.

You gasp out loud, and it turns into desperate mewling as his teeth nibble and pull. You’ll be bruised up for days, surely. He sucks hard, pulls on it roughly and bites with meaning. You just know your panties are completely soaked.

“Talking back to me, huh? You think that’s going to get you where you want to go tonight, little girl?”

He turns his attention to your other nipple, eyes peering into yours as you struggle to answer with the sizzle of pain in your breast.

“What are you gonna do about it?” You send back with a shake of your hips under him.

The growl he delivers around your nipple and the quick bite makes you yelp.

“I think I should shut that loud mouth of yours up.”

You smile in response and his fingers tug down your shorts. You lift your hips and allow him to pull the clothing off and you’re left in your slicked up panties.

“Oh yeah?” You retort. “You gonna shut me up with that fat cock?”

Yoongi visibly shivers. His spine tingles deliciously for minutes after the hair on his neck settles. He’s dreamed of you like this, under him and begging to be put in your place. And now, here you are. And he can’t wait to make it a reality. He’s even forgotten about the loud neighbors. It’s now just all about you.

“I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Dirty little slut so horny to get her mouth on my cock.”

Yoongi allows a finger to trail down your clothed slit, and he outwardly groans at how wet you are. You’re unable to hold back your whimpers of need—he’s so close to where you need him most and where you’ve dreamed of having him.

“You talk a big game for someone who’s drenched before I’ve even done anything,” Yoongi says with a smirk.

Your legs tremble as he pulls your panties to the side to expose your drenched folds. He dips a finger in and touches your clit. You moan in unison—he’s captivated by the heat and slick, you’re feeling air escape your lungs with every swirl of his finger.

“Y-Yoongi,” you whine. He tsks and pulls his finger out.

“That’s not my name right now.” His hands start to slide your panties down and your stomach leaps with excitement.

“Sir, please.”

“Now you want to be my good girl?” He asks with a chuckle. “Where’s my mouthy little brat who wants my cock to shut her up?”

He leans back on his heels and watches you eye him. You’re nearly bursting at the seams. You’re naked while he remains completely clothed and while you’d normally feel exposed and vulnerable, all you feel is white hot heat. You’re burning for Yoongi, for him to do what you’ve dreamt he could do.

“Why don’t you show me what that sweet mouth can do?”

He maneuvers to stand at the side of the bed, dick straining against the mesh of his shorts. He waits for you to sit up, which you wordlessly obey. His cock is now eye level with you, and your mouth feels dry. You’ve dreamt about this dick, about what it looks like and how it would feel in your hand, inside you. The fact that you’re here now, about to find out all your secret fantasies is heady.

Your hand rubs at the straining material, over the thickness of his cock. He feels big, and you give it a squeeze which makes him hiss.

“Still being a tease,” he sighs with faux disappointment. “You’re in a precarious position to be such a little cocktease. Might need to fuck that right out of you.”

It makes you whimper—his direct threats sounding like smooth promises going straight to your core.

“I’d like to see you try.”

Yoongi growls and grabs a bit of your hair, tugging your head back to look at him in the eyes.

“I think you should shut this fucking mouth up.” His voice is dark, and his eyes glow with lust.

A grin pulls over your face as you gaze sweetly up at him—his hand still gripped tight in your hair.

“Make me.”

Yoongi is silent for a moment as he stares at you in wonder—his beautiful girl, so rebellious and yet so willing to comply.

“I fucking love you, you little fucking slut.”

Yoongi forces his shorts down and grips your chin, holding it hard in his hand.

“Now choke on my fucking cock.”

You open your mouth complacently and he wastes no time in shoving his entire length down your throat mercilessly.

It’s hot. It feels like fucking heaven. Your lips wrap around him and suction and he can feel your gag reflex straining against his tip at the back of your throat. Yoongi thinks his entire spine is tingling with desire for you and the way you take his cock so well has his toes curling.

You didn’t even get to have a good look at Yoongi’s cock before it was shoved into your throat, but now that it’s there you don’t even need to see it to knows he is fucking thick and long. It stretches your mouth and you know your pussy will be taken to its limit when he finally buries himself inside you where he rightfully belongs.

“Can’t talk back now, can you?” He teases as he begins to fuck your throat. “Mmmm shit—, you suck my cock so fucking good.”

His words are nothing but encouragement for you and you fight back the growing discomfort in your throat and allow him to use it as he pleases. Tears form in your eyes and slip down your face at the exertion and you soon feel his balls slap at your chin. You’ve only fantasized of being used like this by Yoongi, and now it’s actually fucking happening. You’ll be damned if you don’t give him the suck of a lifetime.

Yoongi thinks he’s staring into heaven as he fucks your tight mouth and watches as your eyes fill with tears. They leak out and he knows you’re loving this just as much as he is by the palpable enthusiasm you accept his cock with.

“Look at my little brat,” he coos mockingly. “Not so big and brave now, are you? Not with daddy’s cock wrecking your hot mouth.”

He picks up the pace and the sounds turn disgustingly lewd. It’s a wet, slurping sound as Yoongi forces his cock in and out of your drooling mouth. Saliva drips onto the bed below you as you take him all, never given a chance to breathe or swallow. Yoongi takes and you selflessly give. You’d allow the man to split you in half—and you’re actively hoping he does just that tonight.

Suddenly, Yoongi is pulling out of your mouth and leaving you panting and keening for more. He grips his cock with a fist. He strokes himself roughly and looks down at you.

“Gonna cum, baby girl. Fucking beg for it.”

Your hands grip at his thighs and you’re breathing hard to catch up on the oxygen you were denied. But it doesn’t stop you from doing exactly as he orders.

“Please, daddy. Please cum on my face. Let me taste your cum, I want to know what you taste like. Cum on me. Mark me, daddy.”

Yoongi whines and increases the speed of his pumps. His mouth falls open as he watches you pout so sweetly and wait so eagerly for his seed on your face. He wants to see your entire body covered in his cum and he plans on ensuring that happens sooner rather than later.

“My eager little bitch. Wants her daddy to mark his territory.”

You nod, tongue sticking out and wagging like a dog for his cum.

“Please, daddy. Make me messy.”

It seems to be the secret password to Yoongi’s climax. Your desperation, your eager position, the way you beg so sweetly. It sends him right over the edge and he cries out as his cock pulses white stripes over your pretty face.

He wishes he could take a picture of the way his cum covers your face. He’d make it his background photo so he could see it every day, show everyone around him the gorgeous little whore he gets to cum on every night.

“Shit, babygirl,” he groans as he attempts to catch his breath. “Look at you.”

You smile as your tongue retreats into your mouth and you savor the drops that landed on your tongue. Your eyes close in bliss as you enjoy the flavor, noting it tastes salty and sweet and you can’t wait to reacquaint yourself with the taste over and over again.

“Lay back,” he orders as he pushes his shorts all the way off.

In his haste to fuck your throat, he only pushed them halfway. He slips out of them and pulls his shirt off before he joins you on the bed.

“Let me drink this cunt.”

You whimper in agreement as you press your back in to the pillows and spread open your legs.

“Please, daddy.”

He grins as he lowers himself to lie between your legs. He blows on it, cool air pushing over your folds chilling you.

“Fuck,” he sighs. “Greedy little cunt wants it all, hm?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“So compliant for me now,” he whispers as he kisses your thighs. “I like it when you behave.”

He kisses in further, and soon he’s using his fingers to spread apart the folds and pressing the flat of his tongue to your clit and laving it over the aching nub.

“Holy shit,” he groans as he comes up and sucks his tongue back into his mouth. “Sweetest little pussy.”

You can’t reply, the capability to speak has left you now. He buries his face back into your cunt and gets to work. His tongue starts flicking against the bundle of nerves and then dips down to fuck into your channel. He works his tongue around you and your back arches off the bed and your heels dig into the mattress. You seek purchase in his hair with your hands, digits gripping at the blonde locks between your thighs.

Yoongi groans and moans into your cunt, and soon he slips two fingers in to fuck you roughly.

He pulls his lips away and licks his tongue over them to collect the slick that lingers. His fingers maintain a quick pace and he drinks in the sight of you gasping at the stretch.

“Yeah, look at you take my fucking fingers. Such a wanton little whore for me.”

He slides another finger in to join, then another, and it makes your cries echo loudly around the room. He suddenly remembers the neighbors above you and smirks. He pulls his hands from you, making you keen with desire and desperately beg for more.

“Daddy! Please, I need..” you gasp. “Need you!”

He pulls himself up to join your hips together and rolls his them against each other. His cock rubs against your soaked pussy and he bites his lip at the feel of it getting slicked up.

“I want you to be nice and loud for me, baby girl,” he demands sweetly in your ear as he licks the shell. He notes your shiver and smirks, before kissing your ear lightly. “Tell those mother fuckers upstairs who’s going to take you to Hong Kong.”

“Yes, daddy,” you agree.

It only takes the consent to leave your lips for Yoongi to spear his cock into you. He’s not slow or gentle, he pushes it into the hilt immediately.

Yoongi meant to start a pace, to begin fucking into you mercilessly, but he’s frozen inside your tight heat. You feel so good, so fucking tight and warm and wet for him. It’s better than heaven, and surely better than any pussy he’s been inside before. Maybe it’s because it’s you, and no one else.

“Fuck!” He gasps. “Holy shit I could cum right now.”

You whine and move your hips desperately.

“Fuck me daddy! Fuck me hard, please! Use me like your little cock sleeve.”

Yoongi bites his lip and feels his cock pulse.

“Shit, you’ve got a dirty fucking mouth,” he grits. “Let’s see if you’ve got a dirty little pussy too.”

He sets a pace, desperately wills his cock not to cum yet. He wants to fuck you senseless, until your eyes roll back in your head. He’s gonna make sure you get off on his cock before he comes close to his end.

Yoongi grips your chin again, like he did at the beginning as he fucks into you roughly.

“Look at you take my fucking cock so deep,” he bites out. “Your cunt is so fucking desperate for my fat cock, isn’t it? You need me to fuck some discipline into you.”

You’re nearly screaming now at the force of his thrusts. He’s pushing all the way into you with each push and his balls smack against your ass deliciously. You’re babbling, words unable to make sense as he fucks all the brain cells out of you.

“Dumb little cock slut,” he whispers as he leans down to suck a nipple into his mouth and bite at it before releasing it “Little brat turns into a perfect little fuck hole for me, so fucking good for me.”

“Yes, y-y-yes baby! S-so close!”

Yoongi’s had you near the verge since his oral, and now with his punishing pace and power in his driving hips, you’re hovering over the edge.

His hand drops down to rub at your clit, a circular motion that has you gasping and screaming his name.

“That’s fucking right,” he breathes. “Tell them, baby. Tell them who’s got the best fucking cock. Tell them who fills this pussy up so well.”

You’re eager to comply.

“You, daddy! Fuck! You feel so fucking thick in me. I need your cum, please, please. Cum on me.”

Yoongi feels his balls tighten impossibly--he knows he’s seconds away from an explosive orgasm.

“Cum on my cock, baby girl. Let me feel you cream my fucking cock. Wanna see you all over this fat dick.”

His free hand tugs at a nipple and pulls it punishingly, tugging it so far it pulls the skin around it. Your screams light up the room, echoing and bouncing off the walls and surely traveling up to your neighbors bedroom.

“Yoongi! Fuck! I’m cumming!” You warn, a millisecond before your world crashes around you.

Your cunt squeezes his cock so tightly that it causes his hips to stutter in their pace. It grips him tight, angry like a squeezed fist and Yoongi feels the air get sucked out of his lungs as his climax follows directly after yours. He didn’t even have a chance to pull out--he’s emptying his load into your womb and whining at the feeling of your pulsating walls milking every single drop greedily.

It’s several minutes later that you’re both caught up to normal breathing and resting beside each other on the bed. The room is silent, save for little pants and breaths, and Yoongi reaches over to lace his fingers into yours and hold your hand tightly.

“You wanna date me?” He asks sweetly, as if his cum isn’t dripping out of your cunt as he speaks.

It makes you laugh. It’s so classically Yoongi that you can’t help but to laugh.

“Yes, daddy, I want to date you. I want to date you every single day.”

He pulls you into his embrace and kisses at your forehead.

“Maybe we should send your neighbors some flowers for getting us together,” he teases.

As if on cue, the all too familiar sound of skin slapping against skin and screeching moans comes from upstairs and plays through your apartment like an unwanted jukebox.

“God damn it, our plan backfired.” he grumbles. “I think we turned them on.”

You press your sticky, sweaty body against him and kiss at his lips. Your hand sneaks down to his cock and grips it again, begging it to come back to life.

“Shall we try again, then?”

#bts smut #bts fic #bts yoongi #bts suga #yoongi #yoongi smut #bangtanarmynet #heartsforbts #minthlynet #ficswithluv #ksmutclub #bangtan smut

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littlemisslipbalm · 4 years

Text

“Similar Tastes”

An enemies to lovers classic. You and Harry are too similar for you to ever get along...maybe

Hi hi! This is for @majorharry’s 20k celebration writing !!! Hope you all enjoy, I always love to hear from you :)))

The prompts I used: “How about you get off my dick” and “Sorry, I didn’t know”

This gif bc Harry “oh god that’s TEQUILA” Styles is king

Fluff? Smut? But definitely angst? Idk how to describe it bahaha a little bit of everything

Word Count: 4.0k | Warnings: language (there are actually two slurs in this - they’re bisexual slurs and they’re said by the bad guy so just take that into consideration), mature content (not quite smut but y’know), alcohol consumption, girl kissing girl at one point

Pt. 2 is up!

Saturday night. It was finally time to go out with your group of friends and you couldn’t be happier. Well, you could, but what would make you that happy wasn’t possible. If one of the people in your friend group wasn’t there. That would make you the happiest.

Almost everyone has that one person in your friend group who you can’t stand. Like, at first you don’t really know them and then as you get to know them more you just can’t stand them.

For you that was Harry.

While neither of you would admit why you hated each other, it was obviously about how everyone would always compare the two of you. You had practically identical personalities, and had similar fashion taste. At first, everyone else thought you would end up together because it seemed like you were perfectly matched. But the first time someone said, “Oh, Harry, your jacket looks just like the one Y/N wore last week.” Both of you had seethed in complete dissatisfaction.

Naturally, Harry took his jacket off early in that evening and you never wore yours again. You hated being compared to Harry, being told he had made a similar joke or said the same thing about something made you want to reevaluate your entire value system. Maybe it was because you both had such an individualistic mindset, but neither of you enjoyed being compared to anyone and that’s what made it all the worse when people chose to compare you to each other. It boiled down to both of you wanting to be the best at everything - the most unique, rather - that made you dislike the other so much.

So, tonight at the bar, as your group rattled in from the street, you stuck close to your pals at the front while Harry was chatting with someone near the back of the pack. Your eyes had met briefly when you’d seen each other’s outfits. Harry’s a half unbuttoned Gucci cream dress shirt, that was rolled to his elbows, tucked into high waisted navy trousers finished with cream boots and yours a navy bra top with a faux collar and a deep cut to show your cleavage paired with cream high waisted pleated pants and navy loafers. Not exactly the same, but if you had stood next to one another it would have looked planned. You rolled your eyes at him as he narrowed his towards you. You couldn’t wait to order a few drinks and let loose after a hard week at work.

As you all approached a booth, somehow the group shifted and Harry and you were suddenly side by side as everyone was getting in the booth. Then, you were sitting and Harry was right beside you. He tried to cover his groan of annoyance when he realized he’d have to be sitting next to you, once again regarding your outfit with disdain. Your only response was glaring at him. The friend who you had been talking to, Marie, placed her hand over your ring-clad one, that was now gripping the side of the table out of annoyance. “Play nice,” she said. You relaxed at her touch trying to refocus on the purpose of the night, fun.

Soon, a waitress made it to your table and smiled sweetly at all your bright faces. Harry and you were located to her left, and her eyes reached you last.

“Oh! You two are too cute! I love when couples coordinate their outfits!”

Harry’s eyes bulged out of his head and you gave a tight-lipped smile as you tried to keep yourself from having a blood vessel pop in your eye right then.

“We’re not” you began, Harry cut you off, “together, love.”

His expression changed as he smirked up at the waitress, trying to make it clear that he was very much single.

“Oh! My apologies...So what can I get everyone?”

As she began to take the orders, you shoved your elbow into Harry’s rib. You did it for two reasons, for him cutting you off when you were talking and for being so on top of you in the booth.

He turned to you, “The fuck was that for?”

“For being an asshole.”

“Excuse me?”

As you’re about to go off on him about being rude, Marie taps your hand and you realize it's your turn to order.

You clear your throat, trying to shake off your angry tone, “Tequila on the rocks, please.”

The waitress nods and then turns to smile at Harry, he gives you side eyes of disdain, “What’s your most expensive tequila?”

Her smile grew, “We’ve got Don Julio Real and Gran Patron for top shelf.”

“Don Julio on the rocks, please.” He winked.

She nods, scribbling something on her notepad, “Oh! Would you like Don Julio as well?” she returns to you.

You shook your head, “No. Jose Cuervo works just fine,” and glared at Harry once more.

Of course he would ask for top shelf, you thought. Harry couldn't have gotten through saying the exact same order as you, especially after the waitress had already pointed out the similarity in your clothes.

“You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

Being in such close proximity to Harry made you incapable of leaving the bickering alone. Everyone else always ignored when the two of you really got into it, because it honestly wasn’t that interesting. Like an old married couple, though none of them would ever dare say it.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Y/N?”

You scoffed as he turned in his seat to look at you. “Oh, please, you just couldn’t handle ordering the same thing as me. You had to flex that you could order Don Julio!”

“You’re just upset because you can’t.”

“Come off it! I could, but I don’t feel the need to boost my ego by showing off to the waitress that I can afford the expensive stuff.” You laughed at his attempt at snubbing you about what you can and can’t afford.

His eyes darkened and flashed at you and you could see it even in the dim lighting off the bar. “I wasn’t trying to show off, it’s not my fault you don’t care to drink the good stuff.”

“Okay, Harry,” you say sarcastically, waving him off.

He huffed, annoyed that you were the only person he was sitting next to. He had to call across the table if he wanted to speak to anyone that wouldn’t involve you being completely in the way. As he was about to call out to Mitch who was directly across from him, the waitress returned with everyone’s drinks.

“Jose Cuervo on the rocks! And Don Julio on the rocks!” She beamed at the group after finishing handing them out.

Everyone thanked her and she disappeared. You and Harry simultaneously took sips of your drinks.

You wrinkled your nose, “This isn’t Jose Cuervo…”

Harry placed his drink on his coaster and swallowed, licking his lips he said, “I think mine is, tastes cheap.”

“You’re really an ass,” you say as you shove your misgiven drink to him and snatch his from the table instead.

Harry growing tired of your arguing already, “Whatever you say, sweetheart,” he rolled his eyes and took a larger sip of the correct drink.

You take a sip of your own drink and sigh again, “This isn’t even tequila, what the fuck?”

“Ah, no wonder it tasted like shit. What do you think it is?”

“Well, considering there’s only, like, a handful of clear hard liquors besides silver tequila, probably vodka, idiot,” you breathed the last word under your breath, still Harry stared at you with daggers in his eyes. You weren’t actually sure how many other liquors it could be, but you were so pissed off by the whole situation you just wanted to make him shut up.

“Well that’s a bummer, kid. Maybe next time, order a better tequila and she’ll get it right.”

You shoved him, not wanting to wait for the waitress to come back to fix her mistake, “How about you get off my dick and then I can go get something worth drinking?”

Harry huffed as he slowly moved his body up from his seat, yet he stayed so close to the opening of the booth you were practically chest to chest when you slipped out. Due to that, and maybe a little bit on purpose, you knocked your drink forward to get a small amount on him. Not enough for him to be drenched, but enough to bug him for the rest of the night.

“Oops?” you tilted your head and held a sickeningly sweet smile on your face as you looked at his taken aback look. His prominent jaw had dropped as the cold liquid had pooled over his left breast pocket, some of his tattoos now much more visible. You quickly turned on your heel and bounced off to the bar. Harry grumbled and sat back down, Marie leaned over with a napkin, trying to dry him off a bit.

With a fresh drink in hand you weaved back to the table, all your friends were laughing together at something Harry had seemingly said. When you arrived everyone beamed up at you, far more jovial after a few sips of their drinks. Only Harry’s face was sour, but you chose to ignore it and smile at your friends, waiting for Harry to get up to let you into your seat that he had occupied in your absence. When he didn’t, your face began to fall from its smile.

“Are you going to get up?”

“No, just take that seat,” he waves his hand beside him, trying to go back to the conversation he was engaging in before you had arrived.

“But, you’re in my seat,” you pushed.

“You’re the one who decided to get up and leave it.”

“You cannot be serious, Harry.”

“As a heart attack,” he said flatly, and then turned his head to Sarah who was next to Marie.

You looked around the table for help, Mitch gave a slight sad smile like he felt bad, but everyone knew there was no changing Harry’s mind. You knew you didn’t have the strength to yank his large, muscled body out of the booth, so you resigned and took his old seat. There, you kicked Harry’s leg harshly and took a long sip of your alcohol, just wanting to get drunk enough to want to dance and then not be near Harry.

After a second round of drinks, this time the waitress getting your order right, you were feeling better. Harry and you were largely ignoring each other and laughing along with the rest of your friends to some story. Every so often his leg would open up and bump into yours and you’d hit back at it harder, his eyes sliding to your face for a moment and then looking away. He made you so hot with anger and the closeness of bodies in that bar already had the temperature way too high. You gulped at your drink, trying to cool down, but it only had the opposite effect, the alcohol mixing with your blood, heating up your insides, as well.

Then, once the third round of drinks were served, Marie suggested it was time to dance, commenting that some random song that was currently playing was ‘her favorite’. It wasn’t, but whenever she got drunk, every song was ‘her favorite’. However, you were all happy to oblige, feeling restless as the alcohol was buzzing in your systems.

Out on the dance floor, some of the couples in your friend group paired off to dance on each other while the rest of you spread out. You spotted a woman in the crowd wearing a sequin dress that looked absolutely gorgeous on her, her blonde hair reminding you of some rocker chick in the 70’s. While making your way towards her, Harry tried to get in front of you, obviously making his way to her as well.

Another thing Harry and you had in common, the people you typically went for - men and women. Shaking him off with a hand on his chest and a glare, you reached her first and she smiled at you as you complimented her outfit and began to dance with her. Harry resigned to staying with some of your other friend’s when he saw how the woman threw her head back at something you said to her. Soon, she was grinding herself against your front, your lips attached to her neck, hands on her hips.

Feeling particularly happy with yourself, your gaze flitted around the crowded dance floor. Eyes scanning those around you, you soon made eye contact with Harry, who actually wasn’t that far off. His eyes looked a more dull green in the light and he rolled them when he saw you looking up from your place against the beautiful woman. While he still looked on at your languid figures pressed together, you teased your tongue up her neck a bit, causing the woman to keen into your touch. As Harry was about to look away, shaking his head at your antics, he caught sight of a guy approaching you and the other woman.

He said something to the pair of you, but you couldn’t hear him. The woman had opened her eyes to look at the guy and you had removed your lips from her, shaking your head that you didn’t catch what he said.

He repeated himself, yelling this time, “Fauxbians out here trying to catch a real man! How ‘bout we make you total lugs!”

He was loud enough for your friends to hear, including Harry who had been watching the whole scene play out. He pushed through the crowd to get to your side, he might not like you, but he couldn’t stand someone who was homophobic, or biphobic, in this case. You pushed the woman off of you and to the side, she was clearly upset and you weren’t going to let what the guy said slide.

“What the fuck, man? You think it’s okay to say shit like that to people? What year are you living in, like for real?”

As you were about to start really ripping into him, you felt Harry’s presence beside you. You looked over and he looked angry, like really angry, not annoyed or exasperated as he usually did with you. Angry like he was about to grab this guy by the shirt and start pummeling him. Even with all the alcohol in your system, you knew that wouldn’t actually help the situation, even if you did want someone to wipe the smug look off this guy’s face, which had only grown worse since you’d started yelling at him. It was like this stranger was getting off on making these two women in front of him uncomfortable and upset.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Harry spat at the guy.

“Harry,” you turned your body towards him and put your hand on his chest, placing yourself between him and the rude guy, “I’m not letting you get into a fight over what he said. It’s not worth it.”

He had pushed himself almost against this guy, Harry easily hovering over him. Harry looked down at you and then back to the guy, who was chuckling to himself, stepping back from the scene.

He seethed, “You disgust me,” he looked at the man. “Just crawl back into whatever hole your sorry ass came out of.”

The guy just laughed and walked off. Harry looked down at you, his eyes softening instantly. You couldn’t exactly distinguish the look he gave you, you just knew it was something you’d never seen directed at you.

Your brow remained furrowed as you looked at him, then he said, “Let’s get some air.”

You looked around the room for your sequined dress woman, but she was nowhere to be found. So you let Harry take you by the hand out the side exit, to the bar’s alleyway.

Outside, you immediately brought your hands to rub over your exposed arms, the tiny sleeves of your shirt not being enough to brave the brisk night air. The altercation had shaken you up quite a bit and immediately sobered you. Harry stepped closer to you out of instinct, seeing you were shivering, but having nothing to offer warmth except himself. The two of you leaned against the bar’s outer wall and took a few deep breaths.

“Are you alright?” Harry asked, voice slightly hoarse from yelling in the loud bar.

“Fine. You?”

Why was he being so nice, you were surprised he had stepped in at all, but now he was checking in on you past that, it was confusing.

“Of course. You didn’t even let me get a single swing in.”

You scrunched your face at his comment regarding violence. “Why did you even come over? I can handle myself,” you asked, suddenly feeling the normalcy of bickering settle between the two of you.

Harry rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. His pectoral muscles slightly shifted and pushed around his cross pendant in the center of his chest.

“Because he was a dick,” he started, then sighed, “And because I can’t just let some homophobe say a bunch of slurs to my friend.”

Your eyes grew wide and shown in the street lamp, as they looked up into Harry’s green ones. He was slightly sweaty from the bar, but it was quickly drying and leaving a slight sparkle on his skin. His jaw was tensed, as he tried to maintain eye contact with you. You remained silent, unaware how to respond to his statement that he did, despite much evidence saying otherwise, care about you.

Harry decided to continue, “You might piss me off, like all the time, but that doesn’t mean it’s okay for a random asshole to say that kind of shit to you.”

“I’m your friend?” you circled back to what he had said earlier. Your voice was small and also hoarse from yelling in the bar.

“Of course, Y/N, what the fuck?”

“I thought...I guess I never saw it that way.”

“Harsh.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know competing all the time and being annoyed with each other was friendship.” You shifted closer to Harry, your words dripping in sarcasm. Even now, as the two of you checked in on each other and talked about your friendship, you managed to fight.

“That’s just because you’re constantly infuriating me and getting us into fights,” Harry smirked, tapping a finger on your cold nose.

“I think you’ve got it backwards, there, Har,” you winked.

“No, I don’t think so,” he shrugged and pressed closer to you.

Neither of you were very clear on what your bodies were doing, slowly moving so that you had your back against the wall and Harry’s hips were pressed up against yours.

“It’s not my fault you’re always jealous of me,” you breathe, his face inches from yours.

Harry snorted a laugh out of his nose, his eyes slowly blinking and looking away from you, before staring directly at you. “Oh, please, now who has it backwards?” His right arm went up beside your head and his hand rested on the cold stone next to you. His breath, from his laughter and words, fanning over your face, made you close your eyes at the warmth.

You moved both of your hands up to his chest, and he looked down at the movement. One moved up to grip his shoulder and the other fiddled with the cross that had caught your attention when he had folded his arms.

After a beat, Harry said your name, barely above a whisper. Your head tilted up, looking up at him questioningly. You didn’t really understand the position the two of you had shifted yourselves into. “Can I kiss you?” Harry asked.

“Do you want to?”

“Kind of…” He ran a finger over your cheekbone.

Your eyes danced with mischief “Why?”

“Are you serious?” Harry asked in slight disbelief.

“As a heart attack,” you said gravely, throwing the words he had used earlier back at him. He sighed a slight laugh.

“Like I said, infuriating…”

Just as he was about to pull away, you reached up and connected your lips with his. Your hand cupped his strong jaw and brought him closer to you. His warm, wet lips pushed against yours with vigor. There was passion in the kiss. A constant push and pull for who got to be in control. You sucked on his lower lip, trying to get him to open up his mouth, but he declined.

He pressed you further onto the wall, while cradling your head to keep it from knocking against the concrete. His teeth nipped at your lip after a few more moments of fervent open mouth kisses without tongue. You resigned to not getting your way and let his tongue lick into you. Your tongue pressed against his as the two of you continued kissing. While his mouth was harsh, the rest of his touch was mostly soft. The hand that didn’t cradle your head was rubbing up and down your side, only venturing down to your bottom occasionally and squeezing quickly.

Finally, he pulled back, gasping slightly for air. He then rested his forehead against yours and you looked at him from beneath your lashes. One of your hands was now twisted in his curls, while the other was gripping his shirt, over the dried vodka spill from earlier. You smiled as you exhaled a big breath. Harry chuckled giddily.

“That was hot,” you said.

“Y’know, having similar tastes...might not be such a bad thing after all.”

“Knowing us we probably like all the same things…” you trailed off, blushing at the suggestion.

“Why don’t we find out sometime,” Harry winked before brushing his lips against yours once more.

Pecks weren’t possible for either of you though, both of you furiously pressing back together, hungry for more of the heat that came from you kissing.

“That’d be nice,” you whimpered against his lips.

“I think it’d be more than nice…” Harry brought his head down to suck on a part of your exposed cleavage, one of his legs pressed between yours, pushing slightly up into your heat. A strangled moan left your lips as you tried to stifle it. Harry chuckled, his face moved up to right beside your ear, “You’d probably love to have me take you right here, huh?”

His leg pressed up into you and your body automatically grinded down on the pressure. The alcohol and sexual grinding from earlier had gotten you horny and the making out with Harry had definitely heightened your desire.

“But we both know you can’t,” you gained your strength and pressed a little on his shoulders.

As much as you desired Harry right now and he seemed to desire you, as well, he was right. You two were extremely similar and would never actually have sex in a bar alleyway, as much as you might want to in the moment. You both laughed, releasing the sexual tension that was surrounding you.

“I know, but it’s fun to pretend we could...How about we go to my place and see what other fantasies we share?” Harry twisted a strand of your hair in his large hand.

“For once, I’m happy to be on the same page as you, Harry,” you grinned. He picked you up and spun you around, making you shriek in laughter, before heading back into the bar to gather your stuff.

You were quick to scurry out of the bar after telling your friends you were both leaving, tired from everything that had happened. Everyone simply nodded, but the minute you were far enough away they all snickered about the lipstick smeared on the corners of Harry’s lips and your terribly mused hair. Mitch even placed a twenty in the palm of Sarah’s open hand, shaking his head in defeat.

Tag list: @cronias13 @theresthingsthatwellneverknow @harrxier @harrys-cherrry @sltwins @awesomebooklover17 @harrys-stan

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #majorharry20k #please enjoy #and give feedback #enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers!harry #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot #harry rec #fic rec

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