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#I wrote about dancing in the kitchen
taruruchi · 3 months
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"You two are dancing in a snowglobe 'round and 'round"
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i finished this within half a day. and that's not usually possible for me. kinda insane ngl
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artofalyksandr · 1 year
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Forever yours, faithfully
Accompanying ficlet below the cut. Please be kind, I haven’t written fanfic in like 8 years, and I have no beta
Journey was playing from Gareth and Eddie’s room, again. Eddie at least had the decency to turn it down when Gareth walked in, but he didn’t bother changing the tape.
“Hey, Eds. How ya feeling?”
Eddie was quiet for a while, sitting on his bed staring into the middle distance. Gareth sat gently beside him, accustomed to Eddie’s quiet moments and willing to wait. 
“I want to add something to the set list.”
“Okay,” Gareth nodded. “Whatcha thinkin’?”
Instead of answering, Eddie turned the stereo back up. An introductory instrumental began and soon enough, Steve Perry started crooning through the speakers.
Highway run, into the midnight sun
Wheels go ‘round and ‘round, you’re on my mind
Oh, the situation was worse than Gareth thought. 
“Sure, Eds, we can totally do that.” 
Eddie seemed to relax at Gareth’s lack of protest. “Thanks, Gare.”
Gareth nodded and patted Eddie’s shoulder. He left Eddie to his dissociative moping and headed down to the reception desk to use their phone.
It wasn’t a secret how much Eddie missed Steve. The two had been nearly attached at the hip since the awful events of Spring Break ‘86. Gareth didn’t know what all went down in that week but when Eddie showed up nearly dead after a town-wide witch hunt, Steve hardly left his side. They hadn’t been apart for more than two weeks since. The longer they were apart, the grouchier Eddie got. 
Gareth loved Eddie, he did. Eddie was his brother in all the ways that really mattered, but even he had his limits. And it turns out his limit was Journey. 
The line rang once, then twice. Halfway through the third ring, the other end picked up.
“Harrington residence: this is Steve.”
“Hey, Steve. It’s Gareth, is Robin at yours?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Can I talk to her?”
Gareth heard a muffled conversation and some shuffling on the other end before he finally heard Robin pick up the reciever.
“Go for Robin.”
“Hey, Robin, it’s Gareth. We’ve got a problem.”
“Tour life kicking your ass?”
“No, actually it’s been really good so far, we’re all having a blast. But I’m worried about Eddie, really worried. A few nights ago I caught him listening to Journey. Journey, Robin! And when I came back to our room tonight, he just turned the tape down instead of changing it. He want’s to add ‘Faithfully’ to the set list.”
“Shit, that’s bad.” Robin hissed. “Do you think it’s time?”
“Yeah, I think it is.”
Before Corroded Coffin left on tour, Robin and Gareth had agreed that they could call if their respective best friends seemed to be spiralling without their partner. Without question, or justification, they would fly Steve out to whichever city the band would play next so he and Eddie could meet up. 
“Okay, we’ll be there. What’s your next stop? ”
Gareth let out a sigh of relief. “Next up is Boston, day after tomorrow.”
“That’s perfect actually, I’ll coordinate with Nance. I’ll just tell Steve we’re going to visit her.”
That’s right, Nancy Wheeler was going to college in Boston. 
“Thank you so much, Robin.”
“Don’t worry about it. Eddie’s not the only one who’s been having a hard time with the extended separation,” Robin sounded tired on the other end of the line. “I’m just more used to Journey on repeat than you are.”
“Steve’s been listening to it too, huh?”
“He keeps it to once a day, for my sake. But, yes. Frontiers is part the daily music rotation.”
Something clicked in the back of Gareth’s head. If he could pull it off, he’d be the best friend/pseudo-brother ever. 
“Hey, Robin? I’ve got a kind of crazy idea.”
Gareth pitched his idea to her. 
“Holy shit, that’s brilliant! I’ll take care of everything until we get to Boston.”
“I’ll give your names to security and set it up with the road crew. We’ll see you guys in Boston.”
When Gareth hung up the phone a few minutes later, he had Nancy Wheeler’s Boston phone number in hand and a lighter much lighter heart. He and the guys could deal with Eddie as he was for another 48 hours. 
On the way back to the room he was sharing with Eddie, Gareth stopped by Jeff and Frank’s room to let them know about the addition to their set list and the surprise for Eddie.
*****
Rehearsal and sound check went as smoothly as they could have. They played through “Faithfully” a few times to make sure they had enough of a handle on it that they wouldn’t make complete fools of themselves during the show. They followed up with a few originals, and some of their favorite covers just to loosen up.
When Eddie stepped aside to check a couple of things with their sound engineer, Gareth took the opportunity to fill in the other two on the last bit of his plan. The Hawkins crew were set to arrive any minute and Gareth was going to need Jeff and Frank’s help if he was going to keep this a surprise until show time.
One of the guys from the venue’s security team waved Gareth down when the band broke for lunch.
“We’ve got some folks up at the front waiting for you. Asked for you, specifically.”
“Yeah, I’ve been expecting them, thanks.”
He nodded at Frank and Jeff and followed the burly security guy towards the front of house. When he stepped into the mid-day sun he saw Steve, Robin, and Nancy waiting for him and grinned.
“Would you look at what the cat dragged in,” Gareth laughed as he pulled Robin into a hug. He shook Nancy’s hand cordially and gave Steve a brotherly one-armed hug. “It’s really good to see you guys.”
Gareth held the door and beckoned the three of them inside. As they made their way back through the arena, he filled Steve and Nancy in on the plan, with intermitent comments from Robin. Nancy’s face lit up and Steve’s softened. 
“Gareth, if we can pull this off, its going to be incredible. I seriously owe you.” 
“We can talk about repayment later, Harrington. Let’s get this thing moving. Nancy, you’re up.”
Nancy nodded and followed the security guy towards the green room to drag Eddie offsite for lunch. Gareth brought Steve and Robin to the stage where Jeff and Frank were waiting.
“There he is!” Jeff called jovially, jogging over to the three of them. “The man of the hour.”
“Hey, Jeff, Frank,” Steve accepted the friendly hug from Jeff and returned the stoic nod he got from Frank. “I hear it’s going to be quite the show tonight.”
“That’s the plan,” Gareth said clapping him on the shoulder.
“Alright, dinguses, let’s get started. We don’t have a whole lot of time and we’ve got a laundry list of things to get done before Eddie and Nance get back.” Robin called to them from where she’d perched herself on one of the speakers.
Gareth nodded. “You heard the lady, let’s get started.”
*****
The show was going incredibly well, especially considering Eddie’s recent mood. The crowd was absolutely insane, feeding into the band’s adrenaline. As their current song came to an end, Gareth glanced into the wings where, sure enough, Steve, Robin, and Nancy were waiting for their cue. 
Eddie shook himself out at the mic stand and looked back at Gareth. Gareth returned the look with a supportive smile and a thumbs up. 
“Alright everybody. The energy tonight is insane, but I’d like to bring it down for a sec. Then we’ll be right back to the usual shit for the big finish with some crowd favorites.”
Jeff and Frank checked the tuning on their guitar and bass respectively and gave a few experimental strums, then gave Eddie matching thumbs ups.
“This next song isn’t our usual sound, like at all, but it means a lot to me. If I’m being honest with you guys tonight, the last few weeks of tour have been a bit hard for me. There’s someone back home who I’ve been really missing and this song reminds me of him. So, Stevie Boy, this one’s for you. I love you.” 
Eddie pulled the microphone from its stand and stepped back, turning his back to the anticpating crowd. Jeff and Frank began the opening instrumental with a quick coordinating glance and one last reassuring nod from Gareth where he sat behind his drum kit. Eddie let out a deep breath and brought the mic to his mouth.
Highway run, into the midnight sun
Wheels go ‘round and ‘round, you’re on my mind
Eddie bounced on his toes and spun to face the crowd.
Restless hearts, sleep alone tonight
Sendin’ all my love along the wire
Gareth turned to the wings. Steve gave him a nervous smile, but he nodded nonetheless. They were all set and ready to go. At the front of the stage, Eddie continued the ballad.
They say that the road ain’t no place to start a family
Right down the line it’s been you and me
And lovin’ a music man ain’t always what it’s supposed to be
Gareth watched from behind his drum kit as Eddie’s shoulders began to shake.
Oh, boy, you stand by me
I’m forever yours
Faithfully
As Jeff and Frank picked up the pause in the lyrics, Gareth gave a meaningful nod into the wings and watched Steve step into the stage lights. 
Standing on stage with the other members of Corroded Coffin dressed in their cut-off band tees, leather, chains, and torn jeans, Steve stood out. He was dressed in a weird cross of Eddie’s style and his own. He wore a black polo with thin red stripes, dark wash jeans, sneakers, and Eddie’s old battle vest. Someone, presumably Robin, had lined Steve’s eyes with a touch of kohl, and while Gareth couldn’t be sure, it looked like Steve might be wearing lip gloss. Nice touch, Buckley. 
Steve stepped further down stage and picked up the next verse without missing a beat, matching Eddie perfectly. 
Circus life under the big-top world
We all need the clowns to make us smile
Eddie’s head whipped around and he stopped, microphone still raised. 
Steve, God bless him, kept going like this was nothing out of the ordinary.
Through space and time, always another show
Eddie’s brain seemed to reboot just in time and he took the next line. 
Wonderin’ where I am lost without you
Steve met Eddie at center stage and took his hand gently. Eddie’s grin was unmatched, his eyes glistening. Watching the two of them from his vantage point, it occured to Gareth that Eddie and Steve were passing the song back and forth between them. Like they’d done this before, just without an audience.
And being apart ain’t easy on this love affair
Two strangers learn to fall in love again
I get the joy of rediscovering you
Eddie moved his hand to Steve’s cheek, his touch so gentle and full of love. Steve dropped his now empty hand to the “S” tattoo that sat on Eddie’s hip bone, just above the waistband of his leather and mesh pants. There was so much love between them, and just witnessing it took Gareth’s breath away. 
Oh, boy, you stand by me
I’m forever yours
Faithfully
Eddie and Steve let the crowd sing the vocalizations, taking the moment to absorb each other before Eddie brought it home. 
Faithfully
I’m still yours
I’m forever yours
Forever yours
Faithfully
Jeff and Frank played out the final notes to an awestruck crowd. Eddie launched himself into Steve’s arms, his shoulders heaving and the crowd roared with applause. Steve cradled Eddie’s face in his hands. The two of them seemed to be having a conversation and the world outside that conversation didn’t matter. 
Gareth let them have their moment before tapping the kick drum a few times to get their attention. Steve looked up at Gareth atop his raised platform that housed his kit and gave him a half-hearted apologetic smile. He squeezed Eddie’s hip, running his thumb over the tattoo and muttered quickly to Eddie. Steve kissed Eddie’s knuckles and took his leave, retreating into the cheering arms of his best friend and his ex-girlfriend.
Eddie turned back to the crowd. 
“Holy shit, you guys.”
The crowd cheered below him. 
“Well, that was our surprise guest, Steve. At least, he was a surprise to me. But you guys came for a Corroded Coffin show and with the time we’ve got left, that’s what you’re gonna get! Let’s rock this!”
*****
After the encore, Corroded Coffin poured off stage, buzzing with adrenaline. Eddie ran to meet Steve, sweeping his boyfriend into a fierce hug.
“Holy shit, Stevie! The hell are you doing in Boston?”
“Robin said we were coming to visit Nancy, but apparently she and Gareth were scheming behind our backs.”
Eddie looked over to Robin, who shook her head pointed at Gareth. “Unfortunately, I can’t take credit for this one. The whole thing was his idea.” 
Gareth twirled his drumsticks nervously. 
“Gareth?” Eddie prompted.
“Look, dude, I love you but I couldn’t stand listening to Journey for another three weeks. And when you said you wanted to add “Faithfully” to the set list, I knew it was time to call my emergency back up. So two nights ago, I called Steve’s place and talked to Robin. And it all kind of spiralled from there.”
The awe on Eddie’s face was unmatched and Gareth couldn’t look directly at him. Eddie pulled into a hug and let out a quiet sob into Gareth’s shoulder. 
“Thank you,” he whispered.
If asked later, Gareth would deny his own watery eyes as he hugged his brother. 
“Of course, Eds. Any time.”
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starpros-sunshine · 10 months
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OK FOLLOWING UP ON THE BARD THING i think eichi definitely invited wataru to perform at a noble party before. because they'd usually have musicians and so? so ok picture this. it's eichi's birthday so his parents want him to hold a ball and he usually thinks those are annoying but then he gets an idea. make it a masquerade (for the drama). invite wataru as both a performer And his partner for the ball. he's an actor! and everyone is of course impressed by wataru's performance but they're even more impressed because the always polite but unreachable tenshouin heir is expertly dancing with a masked stranger (i love the fact that eichi's specialty in his profile is ballroom dancing). and then they're annoying and overdramatic in public together but no one can figure out Who That Is
and also i know you said that shu was a tailor but i think it would be funny if he also were a noble (his family is also of high standing in canon i think) so he can be there to judge eichi. harshly. i havent figures out yet how to make him besties w wataru but ! it can work
!!!!
This got soooo long again so this is once more put under read more I am so sorry
The idea with the Masquerade comes up while Eichi complains to Wataru about his parents pretty much forcing him to throw a ball for his upcoming birthday (they already planned the whole thing and didn't reallly give him a choice in the matter) and how much of a hassle he thinks that is because of all the superficial politeness between people that everyone knows are gossipping about each other behind each others backs and how sick he is of the pretending to be well acquainted with these people he's talked to maybe once or twice and all the ladies that wish to dance with him and that want to suck up to him because of his families wealth and how really this is all just one big farce to "save face". So Wataru suggests "why not make it a masquerade ball" to spice things up a little bit maybe, take some of the stiffness out of it. And Eichi says he wants to invite Wataru because what's a public event without proper entertainment? Wataru agrees of course and they come up with all of these overly grandiose ideas and scenarios (most of them are utterly absurd. One they genuinely consider involves Wataru pretending to kidnap Eichi and causing a scandal (Eichi woud miraculously reappear the next day and they'd gaslight everyone into thinking that never even happened and all the people are just imagining things)).
Wataru mentions that he'll be gone for an evening to play at the noble's ball to the elderly inn-keeper couple over dinner and they make a really big fuss about it and tell him to dress nicely and to watch his manners because "Remember, you can't just drop from the ceiling with those high society people like we let you do it here they're very sensitive about manners you have to make sure to watch your manners!" and for a minute he wonders how it got to the point that his landlords started to treat him like they personally picked him up from the street when he was a child.
I like to think he met Shu when he was out on the street doing a little street performance to earn some extra money for himself and Shu, the way that he is, came by, looked him up and down, and then started a conversation with him about music as an art form and that somehow turned into a philosophical discussion and at the end of that they each went their own ways with the knowledge that there was a new friendship formed that day.
And maybe he's the one that sews Watarus clothes for the ball because if you spent most of your life as a traveling bard living hand to mouth from your music you won't really have the money for fancy clothes (Eichi still insists on paying for Wataru here because he wouldn't need to spend so much money on fancy ballgowns if it wasn't for him in the first place and also he just wants to treat Wataru to something nice and sees this as his chance seeing as Wataru declines most gift offers me made before). Wataru tells him about the entire thing and Shu scoffs because dislikes Eichi (still need to come up with a way to explain that disdain but I will come up with something trust me!) but his parents force him to be there too so "he might as well" (it's obvious he still puts in a lot of care "because of his pride as an artists" (because Wataru is his friend and he wants him to have something nice)).
Shu only has to be there because his family guilt trips him into going and he doesn't see the point in opening that can of worms again ("We already let you pursue your foolish dream of sewing clothes like a commoner this is the least you could do for your family.")
And then at the actual event he's in some secluded corner together with some other people who only attended as a mere formality because they also do not like the Tenshouin family but they have to be there because they're important and aristocrat politics are weird that way I suppose.
Meanwhile Wataru does his usual thing and charms everyone with his beautiful beautiful voice and his elegance and charm and oh he is so agreeable as a performer. Eichi has to handle the usual "pleasantries" (nothing pleasant about those tries) and he exchanges the one or the other suffering glance with Yuzuru when nobody pays attention that just screams "God when will it end". Yuzuru shoots him back a look that conveys the exact emotion of "my condolences" and then he goes on to look for Tori who's 1.53m figure has disappeared in the group of people and when he finds him he's talking to a gentleman that's about a head taller than him and the mask obscures his face but judging by the hair and the slight "animosity" between them he's talking to Tsukasa, so Yuzuru decides he's in good hands and leaves to do his own thing. (do they know they're talking to each other? Who knows! But they'd probably manage to start bickering either way.)
And eventually it gets to the actual Ball bit of the Birthday Ball Event where they actually dance (there's an actual orchestra there now and they play very lovely music). And almost everyone asks to dance with Eichi at least once. Eichi does not want to waste his time and energy on these people who are just interested in him for his money so he always makes up something about being preoccupied or a little tired or something that gives them no other choice but to back off. Suddenly Wataru appears behind him and does a little "boo!" and Eichi didn't expect that so he startles and almost drops his glass and tells Wataru not to do that anymore at public eventshas while Wataru has to stiffle a laugh because he thinks Eichi is cute when he pretends to try to be firm with him. After he's done with his "scolding" (you can barely call it that. he was very soft on Wataru.) Wataru asks him for a dance this time and he's very chivalrous about it - he goes all out really - he kisses his hand and offers him a rose while he does a little bow and asks if he "may have this dance with the lovely star of the evening" (and oh Eichi wants to kiss him so bad right then and there but in a room full of people that are worse than a committee of vultures that is very much not an option). Of course he agrees and they move to the dance floor and suddenly a Lot of eyes are on them because Eichi Tenshouin, whom a good chunk of pursuers have already given up on - because let us be real. It will never happen. The man hasn't shown interest in anyone at any moment in time and lives together with the Himemiya heir and his butler as far removed from the rest of the aristocracy as one would be able to - is waltzing with this masked stranger and it becomes very obvious very quickly that Eichis constant declining of dance offers was not for a lack of expertise because those two look breathtaking together.
Eichi actually dips Wataru once and some people wish they had hired an artist to paint the scene (because I'm a sap and wataei is beautiful I don't care I'm being self indulgent here)). And they talk but nobody can understand what because of the loud music and they curse the orchestra - which is still playing very lovely music (it's heavenly really) - for it.
After their dance is over Eichi goes back to declining every dance offer he gets with the excuse he's exhausted and needs to rest a little before he can dance again (the "I don't wish to dance with you" is implied and in the room but most people chose to ignore it to spare their ego and decide to take him at face value) and Wataru disappears to somewhere, nobody really knows where but somehow he's nowhere to be found. Until he sneaks up to Eichi a second time and does the whole "Boo!" thing again and Eichi almost drops his glass yet another time and as he turns around to "scold" Wataru again Wataru shushes him and takes Eichis, who is more confusedd than anything by now, hand and sneaks out of the ballroom with him.
Eichi asks where they are going and Wataru doesn't answer he just keeps walking and Eichi decides to just trust the process and suddenly they're on the Balcony again, not a cloud in the sky and the only sounds to be heard are the muffled instrumentals from the orchestra that started playing their next piece. The only lightsource being the moonlight reflected by the new years snow. And Wataru turns around, he's not wearing a mask anymore, and he does his little bow and kisses Eichis hand, hands him a rose he had appear from nowhere - a white one this time - and does his entire "May I have this dance with the lovely star of the evening" spiel again. It's the same routine really but it's different somehow. More intense. Because he says it with more sincerity than he did when they were around more people. And Eichi doesn't even have to reply before he finds himself whisked into this waltz yet again, somehow in the leading position. And then they dance and they dance and it's just the two of them, the stars as their only witnesses. And as the orchestra finishes their piece and the music fades out Eichi dips Wataru again and they kiss and it is so sappy and they are so so so so sappy.
They stay out on the balcony a little while longer but they retreat back inside rather timely seeing as it is still january and the night and as the following consequence of those two circumstances actually pretty cold and they'd both rather Eichi not get sick (he already got Watarus coat but then they'd also both like it very much if Wataru also didn't get sick either so they migrate back into the empty, dimly lit hallways of the mansion rather quickly)
(meanwhile at the actual ball people have noticed Eichi missing and started to ask questions, poor Yuzuru has to repeatedly tell people Eichi probably retreated into his quarters already, seeing as it is rather late and he was rather tired "Please excuse the young master for his failing in notifiying the other guests, he told me he didn't wish to interrupt the nice atmosphere and preferred to leave unnoticed".)
After the festivities died down Yuzuru and Tori go to check up on Eichis room because he's been gone without any notice and it would probably be useful to know if their kind-of-roommate just went away to fool around with that strange bard man they've been seeing sneaking around their mansion from time to time that Eichi seems to be oddly fond of or if the should actually be worried about his well-being. After they knock and get no reply Yuzuru just opens the door and he and Tori are both greeted with the view of Eichi asleep in his bed and next to him the also seemingly fast asleep figure of Wataru who's braid got considerably more lose during the course of the evening and who's also seemingly wearing some of Eichis sleepwear.
They both decide they have seen enough they do neither need nor wish to see more. Yuzuru, who has been in this situation before doesn't even have it in him anymore to react in a specific way. He just lets out this big sigh because he doesn't get paid enough for all of this as he directs Tori out of the room. Tori who has not been in this situation before has a Lot of questions now because he doesn't know this man but he's apparently closer to Eichi than most other people and he doesn't know how to feel about that but happy is probably not it.
(The following day Eichi has to listen to a (rightfully) disgruntled Yuzurus passive-agressive-yet-somehow-still-very-polite-sounding-Yuzuru-complaints about him just disappearing like that and leaving it to Yuzuru to take care of his mess (Eichi promises him to make up for it and that if Yuzuru has any favour to ask he's very welcome to come to Eichi about it). Tori really wants to ask about the strange man Eichi was so involved with but between not really getting a word in while Eichi and Yuzuru are talking and not really knowing how to take the exceedigly good mood Eichi is in (he's had "A very nice evening". With utmost certainty it was for reasons other than him actually enjoying the mingling witht the high society at social function he was obligated to host, Tori guesses), he kind of clinks out here and decides to simply take matters into his own hands when he gets the chance.)
#never let me write anything about them ever again#this got so long again I really just wrote my heart out huh#can you believe I actually researched flower language for this#in the middle I remembered that January is actually really cold at night so maybe I should switch up my approach a little#hm. did that work out? I have no idea#I kind of blacked out somewhere in the middle#Hiyori could've been in this idk he was there too somewhere with Jun or something#Eden attended the event but they're unimportant right now#can you tell I love fairytales by the way I feel like that got a little obvious throughout this entire AU#oh I should make a tag for this I'm actually rather fond of my embarrassing cringefail wataei au rambles#Btw when Wataru comes back home he's also in a very good mood and the elderly inn-keeper couple tease him about it#I've gotten very soft about that little thing that started as a side bit initially#those are his parents now they looked at this guy that has been occupiying this one room for a Long while#and that pays his rent by doing shows for the guests or helping in the kitchen or generally just helping around#some things are just easier when you're young and energetic#and they looked at him and his birds and went ''You're a little strange and off putting but you're part of the family now''#this is way less profound than the first one it's suuuper self indulgent and a little lame but I like indulging from time to time#head in hands i really like wataei#wataei#OH! wait there's symbolism in the dance scene (the second one)#the rest is just me being silly#yumefan🎼🌠#Wataru could wear Eichis clothes no problem I think thats so neat#because they're the same height and it's been said Wataru can pass perfectly for a woman so I assume he has more of a slim frame#chances are Eichis clothes sit loser on him than on Eichi i think that's a little funny#the possibility is there is all I'm saying#<- tag until i figure something out that sounds nicer#Märchen au
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morerawerbreath · 7 days
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plays that are set entirely in a kitchen are sacred. if you even care
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screampied · 4 months
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❛ SWEET TOOTH! ❜
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synopsis. geto's got a sweet tooth for his pretty partner in culinary arts. rumor has it gojo wants a taste too. the two chefs compete on which one can make you cream the most.
total wc. 5.8k
warnings. satosugu x fem!reader, college au, squirting, (geto) eats it from the back, double penetration, unprotected s*x, dumbfication, dirty talk, oral (fixation), overstim, them basically fighting over you.
an. wrote this bc…i'm hungry </3 random stsg brain rot lawl
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“you're a fine cook, you know?”
your eyebrows raised as both of your hands rested against the edge of the laminate-glassed counter.
taking off your toque to give geto direct eye contact, he continued to speak. “i still think your banana pudding was the best.”
“oh, thank you,” you mumbled, and geto stood tall - the size difference was truly immaculate.
broad shoulders yet a very much lean body.
he had his hands buried and dug into the holes of his pockets, flipping the apron near his white coat to the side before giving you a soft smile. “i wish i could have tried your desert, chef kept rushing everyone to clean up earlier.”
“you still can,” geto mutters, and you stare up at him. his voice was somewhat teasing but stoic.
his body language was simply suave…he leaned against the counter as he spoke before making a few inches towards you. his eyes trail down, and his thumb swiftly swipes against the side of your cheek—excess sweet cream of his infamous banana pudding. “it still has its flavor. vanilla, my personal favorite.”
he was so close to you, his body heat practically radiated against you, not literally though.
you were deep in thought as he was directly propped up beside you.
“may i…?”
he's got his dessert in hand, and it was a slice of vanilla cake—neatly decorated at the top with a cherry topping, just a good enough glance and your mouth is damn near watering. it’s decadent with sweet cream and icing, you nearly forgot how to speak.
“yeah.. yeah...yes please.”
you didn’t even realize how needy you sounded, just a few inches of your tongue and you’d be licking your lips.
geto cups a hand over your chin—his dark focused gaze, pretty lashes of his fluttering throughout each blink. he scoops a good amount from the stainless-steeled fork, and brings it towards your glimmering plump lips.
“open a little for me, pretty.”
his voice, it was a mere whisper…
as you parted your lips slightly for him to press the fork inside, the piece of cake now going onto your tongue—you couldn’t deny, just those words alone had you feeling a certain type of way. geto's eyes never left yours, in fact, the soft back of his thumb pad was continuously gently stroking the side of your mouth.
the taste of the cake, just amazing.
dramatic was a good enough word to depict for you because as soon as the icing slicked against your lips—the pure flavor, the sweet sweet vanilla mixed with a single dash of vanilla extract, the cavity-coated sugary taste, and oh… cinnamon.
“mhm…”
you paused, feeling a heatwave of utter embarrassment wash over you. you let off the most dirtiest moan imaginable. all from a taste of cake from geto. the smile remains on his near perfect crooked lips before he hums, placing the fork aside.
“you must really enjoy it, huh?”
even his chuckle was sexy, such bass in his voice was enough to have you soaked right underneath your formal kitchen attire—directly underneath your apron, he couldn’t see but your legs were squeezed shut together, tight.
“yeah, it’s um..good.”
“just…good?” he teases, his long gorgeous dark strands of hair was down…flawlessly dancing over his broad shoulders. some strands cutely poking through his own toque top-hat. his eyes were nearly fucking you on its own.
eyes half closed, seducing.
“ah wait. you have more icing on your mouth. tsk, you’re so messy...”
geto leans in, his thumb still strokes and strokes against your mouth before he leans in—and you nearly slip out a whine from his teasing he was. you were about to open your mouth before he raises his brows.
“just say it. i don’t have to use my fingers to clean your mouth, princess.”
just from those words alone was enough to have you dripping between your thighs, your hands gripped against the back edges of the counter before you spoke in a soft shaky voice. “…kiss me, suguru. please.”
“open.”
as soon as he leaned in to kiss you, you immediately moaned, feeling the slow and sensual swirly lick he made just from his tongue.
he laps up the tiny remnants of creamy icing that was just near the side of your mouth. only before focusing himself on your lips now, the kiss was tasty just like the ingredients of his cake.
geto's got one hand on your chin, another on your waist. you’re propped against the counter and he’s so warm…
you could taste the sweetness of his dessert on his tongue, he takes a few seconds to depart from your lips—dragging a tongue gently and slowly from your mouth to your neck.
“you taste so good.” he huffs out, his voice was low, creating kiss trails near your collarbone and you moaned before he went back up kiss you. geto’s strong manly cologne scent wafts against your nose as you tug on his chef cpat, desperate for more than just his sweet tongue.
“yo, suguru do we have anymore—”
the both of you broke away immensely at the sound of a familiar voice, no one another than gojo satoru.
great.
he’s got quite the look on his face, wearing loose sweatpants. his apron was half on and he looked insanely attractive even while dressed down.
a sudden smug grin appears on his face. “oh…!” he says dramatically, hands of his going right on his hips, “pft. is this why you didn’t wanna hang after culinary suguru? you decided finally gonna get laid?”
“shut up.” geto grunts, and his entire mood was ruined. you suddenly felt embarrassed, in such heat of a moment then gojo just had to show up.
“heh,” he snickers before walking towards you, and gojo’s so tall, the both of them are but he’s equivalent to a skyscraper.
he stares you down with pretty cerulean hued eyes, doing the same motion geto did.
a swift thumb strokes against your cheek and he speaks in an almost husk yet playful tone. “hmph. i wanted you first, shame sugu got the first taste. now that’s no fair.”
“…you both can have me.”
they both share the same nonplus expression at your blurted words—you didn’t even know where that came from, but at this point you didn’t care. geto already made a mess out of you, barely even doing anything but kissing you, and oh how wet you were between your legs.
seeing them both in front of you only continued to make you pulse and yearn for more.
“really?” they both say at the same time, in sync. you were already so hot and bothered by geto, you only could have imagined what it felt like being with the both of them.
you nodded, your impatience was wearing so thin.
gojo snakes a arm around your waist before geto grabs him, nudging him lightly. “not here, idiot. we can just go back to my dorm.”
…there, you laid flat on geto’s flat-sized mattress, gojo was directly next to you—a hand cupping your chin as his lips was pressed against yours.
he tasted sweet, your tongue curled against his and the flavor that coated him made you moan in his mouth. the forms of his lips curving into a smile pressed up against you. you felt it, and you moaned again feel geto kneel down to spread your legs open for him.
he took his time, geto’s warm lengthy fingers softly carressed your legs, slowly pulling down your formal jean attire, creating multiple kisses near your inner thighs, and his tongue…
gently dragging his tongue up your leg slowly until he reached your panties, pants halfway on he pulls them down fully before giving you a three second glance.
“feel how soaked she is, satoru.” geto murmurs.
“bet she is,” gojo snickers, and you whined once you felt him trail a hand down between yours legs to give your laced undergarments that were deeply soaked, a good enough squeeze. “hm. wonder who’s makin' her this wet,” and then he hums, bringing a kiss towards your collarbone before grinning—whispering underneath his breath, it fans against your chest and makes you shudder. “…obviously me.”
“don’t get too cocky,” geto rolls his eyes in vex, and you let off a soft whimper once you look down to see the long-haired man stare at you with a relaxed smile plastered on his face. his eyebrows raise just slightly before he gives you a subtle sexy head nod. “mind putting my hair into a ponytail, sweets?”
his voice was so low and attractive, each syllable he spoke throughout his words.
his pronunciation even was just so filthy, his entire demeanor. you were drenched between your pretty thighs to even fathom anything else.
“okay.” you mumbled, taking his thin hair tie, softly pulling a good amount of his soft strands, maneuvering your hands swiftly around before securing it in a tight yet loose ponytail.
“mm….thank you.” he says, and geto leans in to give the middle part of your panties a slow lick towards your legs twitch and you moan, going back against the bed before gojo starts to unclasp your culinary coat.
running his fingers against the thick fabric, he starts planting kisses everywhere around your mouth and neck—until he starts sucking against your skin. and gojo smells so good too, the both of them wore such strong cologne, but gojo’s scent was a bit more loud.
manly and sharp, it was intoxicating. each teasing suck gojo created against your neck, the soft foreplay licks geto made towards the very print of your panties.
just…fuck.
your head went back in rapture—pleasure, a hand making on the crown of geto’s head, giving his ponytail a light yank before whining. “just..eat me out please suguru. can’t take it anymore.”
“poor baby,” gojo fake pouts, and he makes you turn your position, lying flat on your stomach now and he towers over you. he’s pressing his knees against the bed as he’s in front with geto behind. “what, what what…?” he taunts, watching you desperately claw your fingers towards his sweats, his visible bulge looked so appetizing—you could only imagine how big this idiot was. “ya wanna occupy that mouth while sugu eats you out, yeah?”
“uh huh.”
you nodded, and gojo grows more cocky, craving it badly.
geto uses two fingers to slide your panties to the side - starting off slow with a long stripe lick towards your pre-soaked pussy and you whimpered.
geto's eyes close for a brief moment—using both hands to spread your ass just a bit, dipping his tongue between your slit, savoring the sugary taste. once he started there was no stopping, in his dirty mind, he imagined your pussy was the sweetest dessert he's ever crafted with his own two hands.
cake…cupcakes…fucking ice cream…
his saliva was practically syrupy from how much he was nearly being coated from just your mess alone. some of it runs down the side of his mouth and he’s just such a messy eater.
“…don’t gimme that look, baby,” gojo grunts, his smile—a half skittish one at that, his pants sag and droop from his waistline before you pull it down just to expose his white and blue boxers.
gojo brings your head close towards it with a swift hand around your throat lightly, rubbing your face all against his bulge, the stretchy thin fabric protected his lower half to make you whine more.
“see…feel how..how hard you fuckin' make me? put your throat to good use for me,” and he lifts your head up—making sure you keep direct eye contact. “…‘okay satoru’. say it, girl.”
you moaned, geto's so sloppy as he’s continuing to eat you out from behind, it’s devilishly nasty from how good he was at pleasing you…
figures. because he was one of the top cooks, not only would his meals would be considered s-tier, but so would his tongue. every few seconds he’d spit on your cunt just to lap it up.
with the help of two thick fingers of his already stuffed inside you to make your body twitch and shudder beneath his hold.
“o-okay, satoru.”
stuttering for him, adorable…
you mumbled, and he stares down at you with a cocksure expression, your fingers hungrily pull down his boxers…and his dick sprung out, your first initial thought was how pretty it was.
long, lengthy and a little bit veiny, such height to it that it towers. it was a faint shade of beige but with a dash mix of pink. he was well trimmed, although managed to have a few specks of white hair near his base.
his base though… he was so full, stuffed. literal breeder balls, made your mouth water at just having that stuffed down your tight throat…
damn.
you were so eager, you didn’t want to waste time. gojo watches as you slide your tongue out, swirling it around his sensitive frenulum that was splattered with sticky pre-cum all over it, earning a grunt from him.
“oh….s-shit… juuuust like that, yeah. all the way down.”
his girth was simply delicious, scrumptious even. your warm mouth opened him with open arms. sinking down slowly every few seconds, he groans from feeling you moan down his shaft because of geto continuously eating you out at the same time.
geto’s got a mouth on him, or tongue some might say. the way it flicks against your nub only to abuse it by sucking on it tenderly, savoring its sweet candied taste, your muffled moans fueled him with much desire—even he started to feel himself get hard.
the unapologetic strain in his pants, oh…it was there. just bulging and bulging.
you whimpered at the gentle scrap of geto’s nose swiping against your pussy, equivalent to a credit card as if it was checking for balance.
your eyes rolled back, although gojo wants you to keep your focus primarily on him though.
“mhm. fuckin' slob on it.” he grumbles, gripping the back of your head to lightly move you further and further against him.
his fat tip that was aching inside your mouth, pulsing with much content.
it starts to hit back against the very roof of your mouth, so sloppy, he wants you to be sloppy….you gag, drool spilling from the side of your lips and looking up at him with a cock-drunken grin. “yeahhh girl. there’s that pretty smile. keep doin' that.”
gojo’s using your throat, fingers dug into your scalp and he’s got you being such a mess, such a slut.
he tastes so good, your tongue circulates against his tip. the sweetness yet tang of bitterness of his pre-cum coats the very tip of your tongue, the tastebuds of yours tasted everything.
sweet like candy….sweet like a pastry.
“shit, been hidin' this...dirty throat from me?” he moans, trying to laugh it off but failing. he’s giving you a stare, shooting daggers and he’s kind of embarrassed. your own gaze towards him was so intimate, he’s making you go up and down, you’re breathing through your nose and he almost slips off a whine.
“she’s close, satoru,” geto mumbles, departing his lips for a split second to speak—a whimper rips from your voice at the hotly warm breath of his fanning against your clit, he drags a thumb down your pussy before giving it a light spank. “should i, excuse me….should we let her?” he teases.
“….nahhh.”
you frown, the playful repetitive banter between the two of them going back and forth—long strands of geto’s hair tickles against his skin the further he shoves his face between your thighs, eating you out like a starved man, his tongue was at such temperature, it’s very warmth feeling has butterflies co-existing into the very depths of your tummy.
“you wanna cum, baby? ‘s that why you keep poutin' all stupid-like with my dick in your mouth?”
all you could do was nod your dumb head, up and down with the cutest scowl scattered across your face, pulling back up.
a singular pop leaves your lips one his twitching dick exists, and your glossed eyes stare at him. “s-satoru—”
“no, gorgeous. you’re supposed to be moaning my name.” geto grunts, giving your pussy another smack and you whimper. he’s just french kissing with your clit now, his entire technique made your toes curl, feeling such heat swell and build up inside of you, your mind raced and raced. “suguru. not fuckin' satoru. tch.”
“ahah, don’t mind him, he gets jealous when things doesn’t go his way.” gojo sneers, rubbing a hand underneath your chin.
your spit coats his fingers and he sticks his bottom lip out, fake pity as he’s toying with your mouth.
his dick grows soft inside and you’re basically nibbling on it now. your jaw ached a bit, you’re staring up at him and he gives you an abrupt head bat before groaning. “y-you’re gonna make me cum if ya keep sucking me slow like that, girl.”
you suddenly gasp, snapping out of your cock-drunken trance with a mean ass smack from geto, a snicker escaped his lips in return and you’re cumming hard, it’s unexpected and your legs twitch, practical mush.
only pathetic murmuring cacophonies of, “s-suguru,” and “o-oh my f-fucking goddd,” ‘s made its way out your throat once you stopped sucking gojo off for a few seconds.
your orgasm was rough, boisterous, just hit you like a full blown semi-truck.
his lips were still attached to your folds, dark eyebrows tugged together he’s determined on making you say his name, making you cum more than gojo ever could.
gojo rolllllls his eyes, dramatically as possible.
quite the drama queen he was. the actual epitome of it. gojo ends of concluding himself, swallowing hard as he sat on his knees. you instinctively slide your tongue out for him to spray it with many ropes and droplets of his cum.
“thaaaat’s it, clean me up baby.” he pants, his breath was shaky but he still finds time to flash geto a cheesy grin.
just…wriggling his eyebrows, so unserious. gojo turns his attention back towards you, and he watches you swallow every drop, savoring the taste.
it makes your eyes squeeze a little before you detach your lips, your own sheeny coated saliva running away from his dick.
geto stares at the both of you with a cute pique expression—gojo leans down before stroking your chin, brushing his thumb against your lips whilst observing your features, “gimme a kiss. just like ya did to suguru.”
you scooted upwards on the bed, and his smirk…
his white lashes were pretty, they lowered as he stared down at you, lingering over you even while on his knees. gojo always found a liking towards you. he didn’t mind a bit of competition against his culinary peer, geto wasn’t the only one who had a sweet tooth for you after all.
you lean into his touch—and his slender fingers ghosts against the middle part of your neck, you open your mouth for him just a bit for him to swirl his tongue against yours sensually.
his lips brushed against yours, incredibly soft and plump. he couldn’t help but suck on your tongue just a tad bit, not even minding tasting himself, his own stickiness that remained.
“how repulsive,” geto mumbles underneath his breath, pulling you away of gojo’s reach. geto stares down at you - and he’s quite handsome himself, still in a pussy drunken state, eyes half closed.
he looked gorgeous.
“satoru,” he says, raising his head before he pulls you close towards him. with a soft uttered oof, you land against his chest, and he rubs a hand caressingly down your back, brushing the tips of his fingers against the thin fabric of your tank top. “how ‘bout we compete?”
you moaned, geto brings his lips towards the side of your neck while rubbing his hand against your pussy — feeling how overly sensitive you still were, so needy and in such heat, you bit down on your lip as he continued to speak. “hmm… on who can make her cream the most?”
“me, obviously,” gojo immediately chuckles, as if that was the dumbest question imaginable. “i wanna get first dibs,” and then he pecks a kiss towards your nose. “can i, pretty? ya fine with that?”
“yeah...”
you panted, geto’s feeling you up and he’s so toasty, so warm.
you were embarrassed enough as is with how sticky you were between your legs. your own slick stuck against the crevices of your inner thighs like glue, every few seconds you’d catch geto staring at it, swiping a tongue against his lips as if he wanted to eat you out again, and again.
“…baby.” gojo purrs, you’re pressed against your stomach.
the linen sheets rubbed off against your skin, velvet black sheets and you swallowed whatever pride you had left, glancing at the long rectangular shaped mirror that stood in front of the three of you.
“tell me, yeah,” he pauses…and you choke out a needy whine, oh he’s teasing, ghosting his achy tip against your pussy. “how do you like it? rough? soft, aggressive?”
and then he leans directly close towards you—his chest hits against your back, and he playfully grinds against you with just his throbbing cock pulsing between you making you whimper out. “i wanna get to know this pussy before i just go all in, ya know…?”
“r-rough, please. just fuck me, satoru.” you sniffled, glancing up at geto who’s got a relaxed smile—he pursed his lips against each other before starting away with a flirtatious scoff.
he was jealous.
one he started, gojo was a monster, plain and simple. his stroke game was just downright mean.
he’s got you gripping the sheet, hanging on for dear life and babbling the most ludicrous things out of your mouth, you can’t even believe the things you were whining out.
as his dick buried inside of you—your jaw is nearly dropped open at full he’s got you, his length, the girth and the fucking stretch of his cock has you drooling for more. “s-shit, shit more,” you begged, your voice trembling from his mean hits.
no remorse, your ass smacks and smacks against him loudly. it rings throughout your ears, making your teeth chatter just slightly. gojo’s hand wraps against the back of your throat. a tiny squeak comes out and surely enough, you find yourself smiling at your reflection. “not too rough am i, pretty? …she okay?”
pulling your eyebrows together in confusion, you were confused before realizing he was referring to your pussy. of course…
“n-no, i'm fine.” you choked out.
“good, gooood….”
he's sexily grunting, and his hip movements were just animalistic. his frame snaps and jerks against you to where the mattress is just singing out adlibs in harmony. creak after creak after creak, it grows out to be annoying—yet alas…your dumb little brain can barely process anything anymore.
now you knew why they called it backshots for a reason.
gojo’s weight just barely lingers against your ass, your pussy was vocal too. it’d be quite foolish for it not to be.
it squelched and cried and even spat out many other various sounds all from gojo’s mean derogatory target hits against your very core. frail arms just dangling over the bed, being stretched thin by his dick, its expanding and exploring your walls as if it was on a mission.
your pussy craved and yearned for more, pretty soon you were gonna cum again—he’s got your arms pinned behind your back, just driving and bullying his dick in and out of you. you’re speechless, lurching against the mattress your eyes roll back and gojo groans, “your back arch is so pretty, baby,” he taunts, clicking his tongue in derision. “so whiney.”
“…you’re hogging her, satoru.” geto grumbles, and he brings your body up to sit up—gojo scoffs, watching him take initiative to kiss you again. you whimper in his mouth once you felt him bring a hand between your legs. gojo pulls out with a frown, watching geto steal you now.
his warm lips clashed against yours—he tasted so rich and sweet, the flavor, his flavor was just purely appetizing. as your tongue collided against his, he’s hungrily gripping your ass now, the thin middle part of your panties lazily pushed to the side, you could taste the tiniest sugary-coated cream of his pastry still on his lips. not to mention your own slick as well, it still coated his chin, shimmery and all.
with a free hand, he pulls his hair out of a ponytail, and it flies loose. some of it tickles against your skin and you whined once he gave your ass a smack before presenting it with a good squeeze.
“you’re greedy, suguru...” gojo pouts. “you didn’t even let me finish, man.”
feeling the tips of his ears seethe with hotness, gojo didn’t wanna admit how hard it was to see you and geto make out with each other. geto’s hand placement, it was so attractive—one resting on your hip, another on your bare ass, kissing his palm against your rear with a few spanks to make you moan such salacious moans and whimpers in his mouth.
you feel geto’s lips purse into a smile at gojo being jealous now, he runs his tongue alongside yours, and he brings you closer towards him.
you hook a leg around his waist and that’s when his hands slide down your waist. “she wasn’t yours to begin with.”
he mutters, smiling at gojo—pulling away to lick down your neck and you whimpered.
“im joking, crybaby. guess i gotta share,” he pecks a kiss near your collarbone. geto stares into your eyes before relaxing his face, humming before leaning close to your ear. “think you can take both of us, gorgeous?”
both…?
you nodded without hesitation, and gojo presses up against you before you crawl on top of geto’s lap.
he slouched back against his mattress with a smug grin, whipping his dick out. he was thicker while gojo was subtly longer. he still had inches to him, every single second you took to stare made your mouth water.
“tch….should be ridin' me instead,” he snarls underneath his breath, helping you slide your way down onto geto.
“cry about it.” geto shrugs, and the white-haired male only gives him a glare. you moaned, feeling geto’s thickness insert its way inside your pussy, past your folds. barely in and his tip was so fat. it was plump and stretched your cunt out to its supreme.
gojo tsks, stroking himself before rubbing himself against your leaky hole — your arms snake around geto’s shoulders and he’s staring at you. one hand of his slipping underneath your top to brush his thumbs against your perky nipples, making you whimper even more.
his tongue slithered against your bare skin…giving it a good suck, his pearly white teeth playfully nibbles against your nipple and you whine.
“can your pussy even fit two?” gojo pants, his voice was shaky, embarrassingly so—he’s catching himself licking his lips, sinking his way inside you, now you’re just being double stuffed. you’re on geto’s lap with gojo positioned behind you.
feeling every inch, inches stuffing inside of you, gojo spanks your ass. purposely leaning up close to you — he’s warm, his entire body is, the fabric of his hoodie skims up against your back.
you hear him chuckle nervously against you, and you start to move your hips against geto. warm breath fanning against your earlobe before he playfully licks the side of your ear only to nibble on it to hide his moans.
“…mhm..baby…baby,” he grunts, grabbing your hips to rock against him. gojo moans, melodically so, he’s practically jumping against you, you’re taking both of them and you bite down on your lip. geto leans back and watches the view of you riding him while getting inches from behind. “s-still gotta finish, ‘m a little sensitive still.”
“ya think satoru should finish, princess? he looks like he’s about to cry,” geto sneers, his gaze was stoic as ever, he raises his head, a meaningless head tilt at you, locking eye contact and he’s so big.
gojo’s fingertips dig into the fat of your ass, spanking it and spanking it — the recoil turning him on even more and he just can’t shut up. babbling nonsense, his bottom lip pokes out as he feels himself grow hotter, immense pressure building up as he was rutting himself against you, geto as the same time.
tag team.
“n-no.” you giggled, being caught by surprise once gojo wraps his arms around you — body to body, his cold breath danced against your skin after each jittery pant of desperation.
geto only laughs at your answer, watching you keep up a somewhat reasonable pace with your hips, you lightly shove geto down against his back, swerving yourself against him, and he’s stretching you fully. “he’s been too bratty.”
damn…
“eh?! y-you guys are fuckin' bullies…”
he spasms, his pink-reddened lip quivers, glancing down to see your pussy getting devoured by two thick cocks. you couldn’t really talk because you were moaning just as much as gojo, he’s so close to you, his scent, his loud scent that never failed to make you dizzy, “shit, i-i can’t.”
“just kidding, you can cum,” you whimpered, feeling gojo suddenly reach down to squeeze your pussy — kissing it with a few spanks from his hand.
your legs clench and tremble, and he’s so relieved. poor baby, he’s all shaky, it’s almost like he’s the girl.
gojo’s sputtering out incoherent, “thankyouthankyou,” ‘s into your neck repeatedly, taking a moment to swallow before he’s shooting inside your clenching hole, his entire body locks and tenses.
his jaw mimickes the same and his orgasm was soooo loud.
“f-fuck, take it all for me. been savin' it for so long…”
it’s sticky and slimy — gojo’s cum spills out, and he pouts once he pauses, watching it pour out only to stuff his dick back in, plugging it in so it never leaves.
he swipes his thumb against his own created mess and moans. “phew shit... ‘m gonna have dreams about this, ‘bout your nasty pussy soakin' up my c-cum.”
it continues for hours and hours, actually let’s not exaggerate — half an hour.
a good half an hour of you being absolutely stuffed, fucked stupid with your pretty doe eyes staring into space, jaw dead open and legs feeling virtually nonexistent. they made you cum, cream…about at least a dozen times.
you were so conflicted, geto’s praising you, showering you with compliments in that sweet low voice meanwhile — gojo’s degrading you now after getting over his impactful orgasm, he’s so mean.
he grows a liking to spanking your pussy, telling you no, those single two letter words that never fails to make you pout and whine.
“this is so much better than culinary.” geto sighs, and he’s got you currently pressed up against his chest — full nelson, an arm swiftly and safely locked around your neck and your legs were all spread. you looked so stupid, eyes protruding at the position, your legs being just barely over your legs.
“she’s a good cook but an even better squirter,” gojo stares at you, taking full view of your cunt. it’s just spitting out gibberish, squelches…
geto’s got your body swinging and swaying against his own — you’re being stretched all the way out in more ways than one, you didn’t know you were this flexible. “one more, babe. show us your cute little velocity.”
“don’t be shy, you’ve made such a mess for us already,” geto eggs on, peppering your neck with kisses, your head’s spinning and everything feels so good. you can hear your heart pounding and thrashing out of your ears. “relax for me. yeah, like that. it’s okay…it’s okay gorgeous.”
geto’s words made you throb — his cock pulsed inside of you, so deep it makes you suck and kiss your teeth in envy. the curve of his dick hits and raptures against you, dragging out a sweet moan from your spit-glossed lips. “let me make you cream again. easy, girl..”
so much pressure rises and builds up, your head just smacks against geto. eyes subtlety rolling back to where you’re seeing straight black. “f-fuckkk. s-sugu.”
“give it to us, c'mon.” gojo whispers, he starts to maneuver circles against your clit, and since the position in you were in didn’t allow you to close your legs, you just jolted, panting and huffing out irregular breaths. “so sensitive, good girl. ‘s okay. be messy. i’ll clean ya up.”
once you squirt — it shoots out with such force, gojo’s in awe, a stupid grin plasters on his face before he slides a thumb inside your pussy that’s already being stuffed by geto’s lengthy dick. “ooooh.”
geto’s different when it came to his loads, it shot out hefty splotches, painting your insides white to where you’re chewing on invisible words, invisble moans.
he makes the both of you grow quiet so you can hear, himself shooting a filthy sticky load inside, he’s panting himself, sweat raced down the side of his head as he’s catching his breath. the way he used two fingers to pry your pussy open, showing gojo his own cum pour out of you — it’s racing down your folds as if it was in a contest.
“good…girl. f-fuck.” he says, his tone a bit drowsy.
“someone’s tired,” gojo teases, pulling you into a kiss. you moaned, kissing back. still on geto’s lap, he’s still got your legs spread open for him, but he takes you out of the head lock from full nelson, allowing your legs to breathe.
gojo’s tongue drags everywhere on your mouth, he was a sloppy kisser and wasn’t ashamed. he was obsessed with your saliva - moaning as you ran a finger down his toned biceps flexing underneath his tank.
you pull away after a whine, gasping for air only to fall back on geto’s chest, never in a million years thinking you’d screw your two culinary peers.
“we…we should do this again,” gojo sighs, swiping his hand across his sweaty forehead.
geto narrows his brows, still fucked out himself. “you weren’t even invited.”
“y-yeah? well i still made her cream more than you. let’s be honest, suguru. i won, heh.”
“you moan like a woman, just stop talking.”
“….”
then you remembered why, the constant bickering amongst the two of them — so damn annoying. but sexy, fighting over you and everything. gojo leans down, softly nibbling on your thighs. geto smiles, moving close to lick a stripe up your tummy as if your body was coated in nothing but sweets.
“f-fuck.” you’d pant, gojo’s tongue sliding between the crevices of your thighs now, running a finger down your sloppy pussy.
“we aren’t done with you, girl,” geto mutters, his hair strands tickle against your skin before he sits up — tapping a thumb against your cheek before smiling, poking his dick in hand against your lips, smearing it with your own spit. “open that mouth. wanna give you a treat. ‘s got so much vanilla waitin' just for you to swallow.”
maybe culinary wasn’t so bad after all..
7K notes · View notes
2hightocare · 3 months
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SNOW IMPRINTS ✷
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“I’m grown, I’m not dipping my dick in the snow to compare dick sizes.”
Synopsis: What was supposed to be a family reunion, ends in comparing dick sizes.
Genre: established relationship! married au!
Pairings: DILF!Jungkook x fem!reader
Warnings: Jungkook being whipped as fuck, Jungkook being a girl dad! (Cute.) a lot of cussing, mentions of sex, mentions of consumption of alcohol, found family.. Jungkook is just such a cutesy dramatic baby!
a/n: hai… I disappeared for a bit but happy new year!! I read “unravel me” and it inspired me to write this super short blurb so enjoy Jungkook being a golden retriever husband. (Ignore all mistakes, wrote this while high) 🤍 Word count: 1.4k
“I’m literally the biggest DILF,” your husband starts again. Jungkook points to himself while Iseul giggles in his arms.
“If you don’t shut the fuc—“ Yoongi irks.
“No cussing!” You and all the wives jump in. A heavy sigh leaves your mouth because this is like the hundredth time you have told all the boys not to cuss when the kids are around. Not since what happened when you decided to babysit Ye joon.
“Jeon, get your ass in here!” You shout from the kitchen, hoping your husband can hear you from upstairs. You stare at the empty cookie jar you had refilled yesterday, and there was only one reason why they were gone.
“What, baby?! What’s wrong?” Jungkook runs down the stairs with Iseul in one hand and Ye joon in the other. The two babies laugh at the bouncing. “Did you eat all the cookies!?” You glare at Jungkook, your hands on your hips as your husband looks everywhere but your eyes.
“Actually… Taehyung stole some when he left Ye joon.” He explains as if that would change anything. Knowing Jungkook for ten years, you know damn well Taehyung maybe took three cookies and the other fifty Jungkook ate them.
“No more cookies.” You announce with a shrug not wasting any time and move closer to your daughter who’s in your husband's arms, who stands there with mouth agape.
“No mowe cookies dada!” Iseul giggles as she makes grabby hands for you to pick her up, wiggling out of Jungkook's arms as you grab her.
“Now what do you mean no more cookies?” Jungkook switches Ye joon to his other arm, mouth hanging open dramatically. “There were like three packs in there, and you ate them in a few hours, so no more cookies.” You dance around the kitchen with Iseul in your arms, her chubby arms wrap around your neck as she laughs non-stop. Contrast from Jungkook on the other side of the white counter.
“What the fuck, baby?” Jungkook literally whines as Ye joon giggles, his little hands in his mouth, drool dripping down his chubby cheeks. “Come here, baby, come with your aunt.” You make your way to Ye joon only to stop in your tracks.
“Fuck!” Ye joon beams, clapping his hands, smiling up at you with all his baby teeth showing, as you stare at him dumbfounded.
“No, no, no, don’t say that.” You quickly interfere as Jungkook is staring at you with wide eyes. “Fuck! Fuck!” Ye joon laughs as Iseul joins in.
“Fuck!” Another giggle.
“This is so your fault!” You point to your husband who is trying so hard not to laugh. “Don’t laugh!” You put a hand over your mouth, trying to hide your amusement.
“I’m not— fuck!” Jungkook slaps a hand over his mouth.
“How the fuck are we going to explain this to Taehyung and Ari?” you sigh with a slight laughter in your tone.
“Fuck!”
“We couldn’t get Ye joon to stop saying the f word for like two weeks straight; daycare was seriously about to kick him out,” Taehyung sighs dramatically as Yoongi stares at Eunbi, his wife who stares down at her tiny belly. Wondering if that’s going to be his case in the future.
“Let’s pray for the new baby to not come out like this little beast,” Jimin squeezes Ye joon’s cheeks, making him squirm in Taehyung’s arms.
Ye joon, three years old, Taehyung and Ari’s child, the second-born from the group and the most mischievous, he really doesn’t listen to anyone but his parents, besides Jungkook and you. His godparents. Jiho, first-born, Seokjin’s and Lora’s child. He’s about to turn ten in January. Iseul, third-born, Jungkook's and your child, two years old and the only girl at the moment.
Besides Eunbi, who’s three months pregnant, no one else is going to have kids anytime soon, well, that’s what they say.
“It’s cold; let's go inside, girls.” You suggest as you pick up Iseul from her dad's arms, as the girls stand up following your movements inside the house through the glass door.
“Give Ye joon to Ari!” Hoseok hushes as he swats Taehyung on the shoulder. “Babe! Take Ye joon!” Taehyung shouts. Ari laughs at how her husband has Ye joon up in the air like the Lion King waiting to be taken.
“Come with mama.” Ari picks up the boy in a puffer jacket, making him look like a big marshmallow before skipping inside, joining all the girls inside.
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
“So sad Seokjin and Namjoon couldn’t come... they really decided on that cabin instead of us, crazy.” Jimin whines as he takes a sip of his beer before placing it in the hole he made in the snow before snuggling into his sweater.
“Honestly, I would take being in a cabin with my wife a hundred times more than being here,” Jungkook playfully jokes, “imagine the bomb-ass sex in the woods,” He smirks with the rim of his bottle on his lips, making the rest of the boys roll their eyes.
“Crazy how y/n has you wrapped around her finger,” Yoongi chimes in, blowing into his hands as if it would make them non-cold.
“Not even.” Jungkook playfully rolls his eyes.
“Dude, you’re so whipped, like it’s so fucking crazy,” Taehyung joins in, as he laughs when the boys hum in agreement.
“Dude, you tried to wrap her in bubble wrap when she was pregnant because you swore she would fall and hurt herself,” Hoseok recalls two years ago. “She could’ve fallen down the stairs; I needed to take precautions,” Jungkook tries to defend himself but fails miserably.
“What the fuck is that for?” You question your husband who enters the main door with a giant bubble wrap roll.
“This is for your safety, baby, can’t have you falling and hurting yourself, so I’m wrapping the whole house like it’s a Christmas present.”
You stare at your husband who is speaking literally, “Jeon, you are not wrapping anything,” you warn him.
“It’s either wrapping this house up or I’m wrapping you in bubble wrap for nine months... your choice baby,” Jungkook shrugs, looking down at your laying body on the couch, hands rubbing down your two-month pregnant belly.
“Be extremely for real.” Your mouth drops open dramatically.
“Even Iseul in her two years of life has you pining after her; imagine when she gets a boyfriend.” Jimin brings up, almost sending Jungkook into a cardiac attack right there and there.
“Fuck no! No boys till she’s forty!” Jungkook points his finger to Jimin. “Or girls either!” He finishes with a pout, making the boys howl in laughter.
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
“Excuse the fuck outta me!” Jungkook shoots up from his chair.
Somehow the conversation steered with a lighthearted joke about who was the biggest, and suddenly everyone ganged up on Jungkook, talking about he had the smallest dick of all of them.
“We all know that Taehyung has the biggest dick here, let's be honest,” Jimin shrugs, which only makes Jungkook's jaw drop lower.
“Say less, only one way to find out.” Jungkook reaches for his zipper.
“Ayo, what the fuck! There are children here,” Hoseok rushes out, “we are not about to whip our dicks out to compare sizes,” he finishes.
“Of course not.” Jungkook makes his way to the snow, his back facing the boys as his zipper gets pulled down, and before everyone knows it, he spreads his arms wide, face planting in the white snow.
“Shit, fuck, cold!” He scrambles to his feet, tucking himself in as he shivers from the cold. Then, he chuckles with a grin plastered on his face as he points to the snow angel on the snow… and a perfectly shaped imprint of his cock.
“So who’s next?” Jungkook asks.
“I’m grown, I’m not dipping my dick in the snow to compare dick sizes.” Yoongi shakes his head, crossing his arms.
They all dipped their dicks in the snow to compare dick sizes.
“What the fuck! I swear it shrunk cause it’s cold, I swear,” Taehyung begs to the boys who stare at all the lined imprints.
“Motherfuckers, I told y'all I was the biggest,” Jungkook smiles proudly as he sees he is the biggest out of all of them.
“I can’t believe this, we just boosted his ego more,” Jimin sighs as he stares at his own imprint and then to Jungkook's.
The glass door slides open, making the five men abruptly turn around. Five women come marching towards them, “what are you guys doing?” Ari asks, with a big smile on her face.
“Nothing,” Taehyung answers a little too fast.
You stare at your husband, raising your eyebrow at him, and that makes him fold like a lawn chair. “We were comparing dick sizes in the snow,” Jungkook blurts out, “I won though!” He cheers, pointing to his snow angel happily.
“Fucking shit, y/n how are you upright?” Eunbi gasps as she stares at Jungkook's imprint. “Now we know why you are always so damn happy,” Yoongi chimes in with a grin.
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estrellami-1 · 3 months
Text
Ten Minutes
Didn’t love this when I first wrote it. Left it in my drafts for a LONG freakin’ time. Found it again and no longer care, so here yall go; have fun! Probably not a part 2 to this one.
Steve takes a breath, then another, as he waits for the line to connect. He grits his teeth, feeling eyes on him. He does his best to ignore them.
“Munson residence, if you’re calling about the murders I’ve been absolved of, try going to hell instead.”
“I need you to pick me up.”
A pause. “Stevie?”
Steve takes another breath. Tries to unclench his jaw. “Please.”
“Yeah, of course, I’ll be right there- what-”
“My parents are in town.”
Another pause. “I’ll be there in ten. Try not to kill them.”
Steve laughs humorlessly. “Just hurry.”
“Ten minutes,” Eddie says, and hangs up.
Steve sighs, places the phone in its socket, and turns back to face his parents.
His mother is narrowing her eyes at him. “Who was that?”
“A friend,” he says lightly.
“Who, that Hagan boy?” His father scoffs.
“No. Not Tommy. I haven’t spoken to him in years.”
“Oh, Steve,” his mother tuts. “Always so dramatic. We’ve not even been gone a year-”
Steve laughs. It sounds hollow. “Try four years,” he informs her. “And three concussions. Did you hear about the mall two years ago? Or the boy who went missing four years ago?” He shakes his head when his mother looks at him blankly. “That’s what I thought.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” his father snaps. “And don’t you dare speak to your mother in that tone again, Steven. You’re still a child and I won’t hesitate to reprimand you as such.”
“I’m twenty,” Steve says evenly. “I’ll be twenty-one in five months.” He crosses his arms. “The last time you saw me, I was a freshman in high school. I’ve graduated. I found jobs. Lost some friends and made some better ones.”
“And what of that girl you were dancing around?” His mother asks. “Karen’s daughter?”
“We’re friends,” he says shortly, then moves through the kitchen, to the stairs. “Excuse me.”
“No,” his father says. “You’re not excused. Where do you think you’re going?”
Steve turns, one hand on the bannister, to look at the man who had terrified him the last time he’d seen him. It’s funny what interdimensional threats will do. “To pack a bag. I’m not going to stay here while you are.”
“And if I were to say we’re staying for good?”
Steve laughs. “Dad, you’ve said that before. Multiple times, actually. Those words mean nothing to me anymore.”
“And where are you planning on staying?” His mother asks. “Honestly, Steven, I thought we raised you to make better decisions than this.”
“Oh, I see. So it was raising me when I woke up at nine years old to discover you’d left and I’d have to find my own way to school. Then a week later when I had to ride my bike to the store to buy groceries. At eleven, when I looked the school counselor in the eye and said you’d be back soon. I had to go to my own parent-teacher conferences. At fifteen, trying to figure out high school classes. At seventeen when I got my first concussion. At eighteen when I signed my first legally-binding NDA. You hadn’t abandoned me. You were raising me.” He sighs, shakes his head. “Forgive me if I don’t believe you.”
He makes his way up to his room and packs as much as he can. Clothes. Vinyls. The box of cash under the loose floorboard. Then into the bathroom. Toothbrush, deodorant, even his shampoo. Doubles back into his room to grab a bracelet off his nightstand; one El made him.
He looks around, grabs the nail bat, and makes his way downstairs. His mother gasps when she sees him. “What on earth is that?”
He looks at the bat. Adjusts his grip, twirls it around. “An NDA.”
The doorbell rings. Steve grabs his bags and moves towards it. “If you walk out that door, you’ll never walk back in.”
“Fine by me,” Steve says. He grabs his keys, tosses the house key at his father, and pockets the rest.
He opens the door and grins at Eddie, who’s looking at him worriedly. “Hey, Eds. Ready to go?”
Eddie blinks. “Um. Sure? Are you okay?”
“Sure,” Steve shrugs. “I’m getting kicked out. If you don’t want to take me I’ll just go bug Robin. It’ll only be for a little while, though, just until I find a better job and an apartment or something.”
“Like hell Wayne���s gonna miss this chance,” Eddie grins. “You know you’re his favorite.”
Steve smiles back, tosses his things into the back of Eddie’s van. “I hoped you were gonna say that.”
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diedoverahat · 4 months
Text
A Small Favor.
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part one!
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pairing: mike schmidt x afab!reader
summary: the stress of his new job is taking a toll on mike. he did such a good job helping you out, so you decide to repay the favor.
word count: 2.5k+
warnings: 18+! MDNI! oral sex (m!receiving), vaginal fingering, handjobs, heavy on the praise, munch!mike always.
authors note: the heavily heavily HEAVILY requested part two is finally done. (quite literally wrote this instead of listening to my bio lecture) i still can't believe that fic has gotten so much traction, i hope this one measures up! it got waaaay more angsty near the end than i thought it would hehe also i decided to include everyone commenting under part one requesting part two in the taglist of this fic so you're welcome lol mwah <3
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It had been one week and three days since the couch incident, which is what you’ve lovingly taken to calling whatever happened between you and Mike. One week and three whole days of Mike dancing around you and the elephant in the room.
The morning after the couch incident he practically ran out the door taking Abby to school when you tried to bring it up. The next time you attempted to have “the talk” he stuttered out an excuse before retreating to the safety of his bedroom, so you gave up.
You know that there’s something between Mike and you that crosses the line of just friends, you both felt something change that night, but getting him to face his feelings and actually admit that will take work.
It's another night of sitting on Mike's couch mulling over what to do about the whole situation when you hear the front door open. You're shocked at first, usually you're asleep by the time Mike gets home. Sure enough when you check the clock it reads 6:33 in bulky red characters. Apparently, time flies when you're obsessing over how to get your friend turned complicated-accidental-one-night-stand to admit they have feelings for you.
You try (and fail) not to listen in on every move Mike makes in the kitchen, fighting to keeping your gaze trained on the TV as he makes his way to the living room.
In your eyes peripheral vision you see him begin to make his way to the couch, but he hesitates when his eyes fall on you. He awkwardly hovers between the two rooms for a few seconds until he takes a breath and walks over to the couch.
Mike sits next to you on the couch with a soft grunt. You wrestle with the need to look at him fully, but you can see out of the corner of your eye he's taken off his work boots and vest. His hair is sticking out at weird angles, curls frizzy and unruly. Your hand twitches against your thigh with the want to run your fingers through them.
You can feel your heart beat faster, struggling to sit still in the thick tension surrounding the two of you. You flick your eyes back to the TV in a vain attempt to focus on anything other than Mike.
Eventually, you lose the fight with your screaming inner monologue and chance a sideways glace in his direction. You're beyond surprised to find him already looking at you.
You stare back, a deer caught in headlights. The dim light coming from the TV highlights his eyes. Mike opens his mouth to seemingly break the silence but he stops himself short of actually speaking. You can see him fiddling nervously with the hem of his shirt.
It’s silent for a beat before you decide to speak up.
“Hi.” You say, it's a whisper but you might have well just yelled with how it cuts into the air between the two of you. Mike lets out what might be laugh, it sounds forced. "Hi." He replies stiffly.
"Home later than usual." You point out, fidgeting with your nail. Mike's home a little after 6: everyday, him being home 30 minutes late is odd.
Mike nods, he lets his head fall onto the back of the couch allowing his eyes to slip closed as he does. "Yeah," He replies, the position of his head allows you to get your greedy fill of his sharp jawline. "Jobs been hell."
You don't respond, but you know. Mike's been haggard recently, and not just because of the couch incident. The bags under his eyes have gotten worse, he's been forgetful, not to mention how much more neurotic and paranoid he's been.
Mike has been a wreck these past couple of days, and you want nothing more than to help him feel good. If not for just a few minutes.
You take a chance, and move to let your hand rest over his jean clad thigh. Mike tenses up immediately but doesn’t move to run or push your hand off.
"I could help you,” You say quietly, forcing yourself to keep eye contact. Mike's wide eyes flit rapidly between your eyes and lips. “Help you relax…” You trail off, voice barely above a whisper.
Your offer hangs heavy in the silence that settles. Mike just stares at you, after a while you start to regret making such a bold move. There’s an apology’s on the tip of your tongue, but when you start taking your hand off Mikes thigh he quickly grabs your wrist.
Your eyes snap back up to meet Mikes. His pupils are blown out, black encompassing warm brown. His tongue comes out to swipe across his bottom lip.
“You can...” Mike says simply, guiding your hand back to his thigh. Only he places it much higher up, high enough that you can feel the rough metal of his zipper brushing against the tip of your pinkie. "I need it." He breathes out desperately, eyes big and pleading. You allow yourself a second to just watch Mikes face before you start to move with a purpose.
You snake your hand lower, finding the already hard length of his cock through the rough material of his jeans. Mirroring what he did to you those ten days ago, you start to grind the heel of your hand against him.
Mike shudders, eyes fluttering shut at your touch. You can physically see tension slowly exit his body, leaving him slack and relaxed enough to sink deeper into the couch cushions.
The sight of him at ease and comfortable lights a fire in you. You feel a deep primal need to care for him, to make him feel good.
Patience wearing thin, you reach for the button of his jeans. Even in your arousal induced haste, you take a beat to appreciate the swell of Mike's cock pressing up against the denim. If this was any other time, you'd want to draw it out. To tease Mike until he can't take it anymore, but now is not any other time.
You pop the button to Mike's jeans, dragging the zipper down swiftly and pulling the flaps of his jeans open to frame his lewdly tented boxers. You can hear Mikes breath hitch, unable to keep from squirming under your intense gaze. The thin material leaves nothing to the imagination, the length and girth of him on display. There's a growing wet patch near the tip that's turned the light blue fabric dark and slick. An ache starts deep in your core, anticipation making you feel warm all over.
Slowly, you tug his boxers down enough for his cock to spring free and smack up against his stomach. "Ah! Shit," He hisses, hands balling up into fists by his sides.
Mike's dick is perfect. A nice length and girth you know will have your jaw aching in the best way later. The tip a soft pink color, and steadily leaking a stream of pre-come.
"I want to blow you," You say softly, getting close to Mike so your lips brush over his ear with every word. He shivers, mouth dropping open in a quiet moan. "Will you let me?"
Mike nods his head frantically. "Please," He pants, chest rising and falling quickly. "Please, I want it."
His begging is music to your ears.
You slide off the couch, kneeling between Mike's spread thighs. His straining cock makes your mouth water in anticipation. Holding the base in your hand, you lean forward to lick a board stripe from root to tip. Moaning at the heady taste and velvety feel of him on your tongue.
"God." Mike groans at the feel of your tongue.
You pull off with a slick pop, breaking a small thread of saliva trailing from the head of Mike's dick to your lips with your tongue. You lave over the tip, looking up to find Mike staring at you flushed and dark-eyed. You keep the eye contact as you sink back down, beginning to build up a rhythm.
Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Mike raise his hands before hesitating, and dropping them back down to the couch cushion. You can tell he wants to touch you, but he’s unsure of himself. You take his hands in yours, and place them on the top of your head.
At first he just sort of holds your head, overthinking what to do even with your permission. You’d laugh if you weren’t so busy preening over the feel of his unfairly big hands holding your head delicately, like he might break you.
“Fuck, your mouth…” Mike whispers, his words trailing off as he watches your lips work over his throbbing cock. His confidence grows, finally allowing himself to run his fingers through your hair and gather it in a loose fistful. Your moan of encouragement has him tightening his grip just a touch.
“Jesus,” Mike breathes quietly, you give him a lick underneath the head of his cock in response. "Fuck. Feels so good.”
You hum in response, working Mike's cock faster to draw out more of those whimpers that he can't hold in. Hollowing your cheeks and sinking down towards the circle of your fist still holding the base of his cock with wet, slick slurping sounds.
Mike's noises have gotten progressively louder by the second, you can feel his pulse beating wildly against your tongue through the vein running up his cock. You know he's close, and you're desperate to make him come.
You give him one long languid suck, swirling your tongue over the head as you pull off. His cock is slick with your spit, pulsing warningly. You use the wetness of your saliva as a makeshift lube to start stroking over him slowly.
"How's it feel, Mike?" You purr sensually,
When you sink back down, you don't break eye contact. Mike's eyes roll back into his head, the way his lips part on a sharp gasp, how his back arches off the couch, how his fist tightens even more around your hair.
Above you, Mike grunts, "Oh fuck, baby," His back arches, a rough gasp torn from his throat. The hand in your hair tugs sharply as he chokes out, "Gonna come, shit, gonna fucking come."
Mike shouts hoarsely, hips stuttering as he starts to come. His cock gives one final twitch in your mouth before he pumps load after load of warm come into your mouth. You moan loudly at the taste of his release coating your taste buds, swallowing what pools on your tongue routinely.
You continue to work your mouth over his cock, bringing Mike through the aftershocks of his orgasm, reveling in the broken sounds he keeps making. You lave your tongue over him savoring the taste of him, until he's tugging at your hair to pull you off his sensitive cock.
"C'mere, c'mere." He whines desperately. You’ve barely come up for air before Mike is bodily dragging you into his lap and kissing you like he needs it more than air.
His hand darts down your body and into your sweats. Mike moans in your mouth at the feel of your lacy panties absolutely soaked with your arousal. He wastes no time in finding your clit, rubbing tight circles over it with his thumb drawing a loud moan from your lips.
"Shit," You exclaim, nails digging into Mike's forearm. Your hips buck up into his touch, chasing his touch. "Mike..." You whine, needing him to do more.
"You drive me fucking crazy," He whispers roughly against the side of your face, sliding his pointer finger through the slick wetness of your folds. "I can't stop thinking about you."
“Oh god, Mike.” His fingers feel amazing, rubbing you in all the right places, his words lighting a fire in your stomach.
Mike gathers your wetness before pushing his thick middle finger in your tight heat. Your own moan gets drowned out by his guttural groan at the feeling of you clenching down on his finger.
“Fuck, you’re so wet.” He moans, thrusting his finger in and out of your aching pussy slowly. "You're so perfect, so perfect for me." Mikes lips trail kisses down your jaw as he adds a second finger into your dripping pussy, brushing against the spot inside you that sends white hot sparks of pleasure zinging up your spine.
"How's that feel?" He asks roughly, throwing your earlier teasing back in your face. You moan wantonly, hips moving grinding down as you ride his fingers in earnest.
Mike angles his hand in a way that lets his fingers thrust into you, hitting your g-spot all while the palm of his hand grinds into your clit
“I’m gonna come, Mike,” You whine desperately, hips stuttering as you tip over the edge. “I’m coming.”
"Yes, come for me." Mike whispers, lips brushing over your cheek.
Your chest heaves as you come down from your orgasm, collapsing against Mikes chest. You're an absolute mess, thighs shaking and sweat dripping down your back. A hiss escapes your mouth as Mike eases his fingers out of your twitching pussy. "Sorry." He whispers softly, kissing the top of your head tenderly.
You allow yourself to lay on his chest with his strong arms around your waist, keeping you close. So close you can feel his warm breath puffing out against your neck.
You don't want to let it, but reality sets in. "Are you gonna run away in the morning?" Your voice is so quiet you don't know if Mike even heard, and you can't force yourself to look up at him.
It takes him a second to register your words, you don't have to look at him to know he's wincing. "I," Mike starts, trying to find the right words. "I don't know." He admits, lips brushing against your hair.
The anger mixed with shame and embarrassment is quick to come, you scoff pushing off Mike's chest so you can go home. "Of course." You spit bitterly.
"Wait!" He rushes out, arms tightening on your waist to stop you leaving.
"What?" You bite out bitterly, whipping your head around to stare daggers at Mike. It backfires on you almost immediately, forcing you to stare into his big sad dumb eyes. He falters, mouth opening and closing as he fumbles to say anything.
You can't help that the look in his eyes tames your anger ever so slightly. The way he's silently pleading with you to stay, his brows drawn in concern and lips pulled down in a frown. Your steely resolve crumbles pathetically.
"What?" You repeat quietly. Mike flounders for a second more, before he finally gives in. "Please stay." He exhales softly, hands planting themselves on your hips, giving them a light squeeze..
Maybe it's your shitty resolve, maybe it's the post orgasm afterglow clouding your judgement, maybe it's the earnest look in Mike's eyes that keeps you from pushing out of his grip and out the door, but you just can't bring yourself to leave.
You stare back at him wrestling with your thoughts, but it's a losing game and you know that.
"Okay," You whisper slowly, settling yourself back down into his lap. "I'll stay."
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i could NOT figure out how to end this, but maybe i could do a part three? would literally anyone want that?
taglist!
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extra taglist!
@ballorawan740 @slasherluvrrr @importantgalaxyrunaway @iwantsleepplz @theaterhoefornewsies
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dearharriet · 1 month
Text
Sunday-Side-Up; James Potter 🍳
summary: you’re worried on the morning after a hookup with your friend, james
word count: 2.3K
warnings: pg-13 smut, sexually implicit content, fem!r, beefy/gym!james, pre-relationship, getting together, hurt/comfort(ish), fluff
note: this is technically an addition to sunday, another gym!james fic that I wrote, but u can read it as a standalone if u wish! u can find the request here
An egg simmers and pops in the buttery pan on the stove, mirroring your calamitous heart. It’s all you can look at. A rogue explosion of butter lands on the skin of your hand, but you hardly even flinch, just staring and staring at the pristine yolk in its sea of bubbling white.
Back in your room, harbored by your stuffed animals and rumpled sheets, is your good friend, James. Though you aren’t sure if you could call him as such anymore, considering the less-than-friendly activities you’d partaken in the night before.
How had you let yourself cave like that?
Outside, the sun is calmly rising, paying no mind to your frivolous human thoughts. It scores over the trees surrounding your apartment and lands sharp and warm on your cheeks. You ignore it as best you can, putting all the early energy you have into protecting the little sun you’re cooking.
Your attraction for James was never much of a secret, nor was his for you, but you always assumed there was nothing to be done about it. He’s one of your best friends and most coveted confidants, and losing him includes losing the other two of him, too. It was a silent agreement, you thought.
Until last night, of course, when he’d finally broken and asked to kiss you over a box of takeout.
“I really can’t stand to be alone with you and sit on opposite sides of the couch and pretend that that’s normal,” said James, one hand fisted over his knee. “I feel I’ve gone mad, a bit, trying to dance around this.”
You’d have liked to say you found that a little bit dramatic, but you felt the same way. Being with James was like walking on eggshells, sometimes. Even though you felt quite at home with him, there were still boundaries to maintain. You constantly had to double back, to reel yourself in before you said something too flirty or touched him longer than was necessary. It was exhausting and disappointing. You were tired of being disappointed.
So upon your permission, James had followed you to your room, and he hadn’t held back.
You can’t say you regret it, but you’re certainly worrying. There’s reasons you had boundaries in place, reasons that both you and James resisted the magnetism that pulls you together, and they’re all in the wind now.
If you lost James, lost your friendship…
Carried away with emotions, you push at your fried egg too hard, shaking the buoyant yolk out of its membrane.
“No,” you whine, gripping the offending spatula in your hand. It’s all you can do to watch the yolk seep over the crispy whites surrounding it, spilling onto the hot pan with a sizzle.
“What’s a’matter?”
Your eyes whip over to the kitchen entryway, finding James in a sick state of undress, a pair of boxers low on his hips and glasses crooked where they perch on his nose. Like he’d gotten up to find you before getting dressed, hardly remembering he’d need glasses to do so.
You tell yourself you’re projecting, returning your greedy gaze to the sad situation on the stove. James’ broad chest and muscled thighs creep into the back of your mind for safekeeping anyway.
He comes up behind you, peering easily over your shoulder to gauge what the problem is.
“I broke the yolk,” you tell him, as if it’s not obvious.
James grunts darkly, as if to agree that this is a very grave occurrence. Still, his voice is as comforting as it is gravelly when he responds.
“Well, flip that one and it can be mine. I don’t like sunny-side.”
Turning to glance up at him, you frown. “I thought you did?” You could swear you’ve seen him eat his eggs that way before.
Lips pursing in a shy almost-smile, James relents. “Well, yes, I do. But not strictly. I’ll eat whatever—‘specially if you make it.”
You turn your frown back to the pan, saying nothing. James takes the moment of silence to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling your back flush against his bare chest. The sleep shirt you’d thrown on feels thinner than the broken yolk membrane, letting all of James’ warmth strike you right in the heart. It’s almost too much for you to handle.
Correction, it is too much for you to handle.
Reaching down, you peel James’ hands off of your torso, wincing the whole way through. He backs off, easily taking the hint, but when you glance his way he looks befuddled.
“Um.” James averts his gaze to the floor, clearly knocked down by your rejection. “Have I misread something?”
“No, I’m sorry, I—“
You sigh, realizing this discussion needs more attention than you currently have to spare. In quick movements, you flick the stove burner off and move the pan to one that’s not hot, and then you turn your full effect on James.
Standing in front of you, undressed and muscled and reproachful, James looks embarrassed beyond measure.
“It’s nothing you did, James, I just—I’m not sure last night should’ve happened, is all.”
Picking at your lips worriedly, you await his response, but it’s nothing like you expect. You thought he’d turn sly or charming, convince you that it was worthwhile. James’ eyes blow wide and concerned instead.
“You didn’t want to?” The dread in his voice is thick, knocking you back with the sheer force of it. You almost reach out to comfort him, but think better of it.
“James, of course I did, yes. I wanted to.”
James’ broad shoulders relax from their anxious hunch, but his guarded posture still remains.
“What, then? You didn’t enjoy it?”
You huff. “No, James. Will you stop putting words into my mouth? Of course I enjoyed it, it was—“
You pause, trying to describe exactly how it was, but then shake the entire thought off, realizing you’re getting sidelined. James looks hesitantly amused at your clear flush, the short reminiscing enough to fluster you.
“It doesn’t matter,” you assert. “We can’t do it again.”
“We can’t?” James asks, but it sounds more like a challenge.
“No, we can’t. It’d be irresponsible. There’s a reason we held off on this, and you know it.”
“I know why I held off,” says James, and he’s stepping closer, to your dismay. “Why did you, sweetness?”
Your heart lodges in your throat, set off by his name calling and proximity. Bum pressing back against the counter, you suspect the only way to ward James off now is with a long, pointy stick, threateningly waved back and forth.
“Because,” you start, mouth dry, “it would ruin our friendship.”
A laugh booms forth from James’ throat, making you dizzy. You can’t help but watch his chest shake with it, his boxer elastic slipping ever-so-slightly lower, revealing more coarse hair and golden skin.
“Well,” James says, calling your attention back to his face, “I should hope so. I don’t want to be your friend, love. I thought I made that clear last night.”
You open your mouth and then shut it again. This time, you don’t redirect your thoughts as they amble back to the way James touched you last night, to the overwhelming sensation of finally having him, of being had.
James’ hands find purchase on the counter behind you, caging you between his arms, and you’re sure he knows exactly where your mind’s gone.
“Is that what you want, hm?” he asks, voice rasping with pure desire. “To be friends?”
You swallow. James’ heady scent is spilling over you in waves, which you typically have no trouble with, but you're not prepared for your smells to waft off of him, too. One night in your bed and he’s covered in you, head to toe. You can’t deny how much you enjoy the thought.
He’s so fit. It’s all you can think about with his tanned chest in front of your face, his big arms skimming yours. You know James likes the gym, but you never expected him to look like this.
Now that you’ve touched him, it’s like a dam broke inside you for good. It’s all too easy to reach for him, brushing light fingertips over his soft stomach and his v-line, the happy trail that’s bewitched you.
Finally, your hands push up, up, up his chest, over his pecs and shoulders until you’re looking into his expectant gaze. Had he said something?
“No,” you mumble, voice distracted. “No, I don’t want to be friends.” An incredulous laugh escapes you. “Obviously.”
“Obviously,” James repeats, grinning like a child with candy.
You run your hands down his front again, intoxicated with the feel of him under your fingers.
“I guess I’m just a little worried about how this will change things,” you tell him, anchoring yourself to his waist. Pulling him closer.
“It doesn’t have to change anything, if we don’t want it to.”
That makes you smile a bit, his talking about the two of you like a pair, a unit. Still, it’s misguided.
“That’s a bit naive, don’t you think? I mean, something’s changed.” You make a point to emphasize the state you’re both in, the proximity.
James grins wickedly. “Well, that’s the good stuff, love. I only meant we don’t have to tell Remus or Sirius, at least until we’re ready. We don’t even have to go on dates, if you don’t want. We can just be like really, really good friends.”
This simultaneously makes you want to laugh and cry. Your expression settles on what is probably pensive, or indistinguishable.
“I’d want to go on dates…,” you mumble, suddenly feeling very bashful.
James’ whole demeanor seems to flip on its head. Before, he was feigning casualty, like he’d be down for anything. Now he’s all business, locked in on you.
“Yeah?” James asks, his voice unbearably tender. His hands abandon the counter for your hips, kneading the soft skin hidden under your sleep shirt.
“Yeah,” you confirm, breathless. “James, I want this to be more than sex.”
Brows furrowing, James levels you with a curious look.
“Is that what this is about? You think I only want to shag you?”
Embarrassed, you start to shrink away from his examining eyes, only to remember he has you cornered. You settle for the alternative and shove your face into the crook of his neck, groaning.
“Don’t tease me about this, James. Not this.”
“Not teasing, lovely, no. I only want to understand.” James' hand takes up in your hair, spinning it around his fingers and releasing it again and again. His voice is a calm wash now, quiet and raspy. “Is that what had you so worried?”
Reluctantly, you nod as best you can without braining yourself on his jaw or yanking your hair in his grip. James clicks his tongue.
“Can I have a look at you?”
His hand encourages your head back carefully, until his hazel eyes have yours pinned under them, like moths under a kitchen glass. Your face fits between his palms, hot-cheeked and sensitive, hoping he’ll say something to make you feel like less of a fool.
“D’you know why I didn’t try to do this before?” James doesn’t let you answer, bulldozing right through with a nervous sort of energy. “It’s ‘cause I knew I didn’t deserve you. I mean—what?”
You can’t stop your laugh. You’re doubled over into James’ shoulder again, laughing like a prick while he’s trying to be vulnerable with you, but honestly, could you blame yourself?
“What are you talking about, ‘not deserving’ me? You’re so bizarre.” You pull back from him, rosy and amused. Despite being made fun of, James seems to be in light spirits, smiling along with you.
“What’s so bizarre about it? You’re gorgeous and funny and good for me and I don’t deserve it.” He shrugs. “Anyone with eyes can see that.”
“I’m good for you, am I?” you repeat oddly, feeling admittedly tingly and giddy from his admission.
“Well, yeah, love. You make me happy.” James’ voice drops a decibel, dangerously sweet and whispered close to your lips. “Even when you’re laughing at me while I tear my chest apart to make you feel better.”
That only makes you laugh again, and this time James presses his smiling mouth over yours.
You soak in his kiss, coaxing his bed-warm body as close to yours as possible until you’re two sides of the same coin. James pushes his hands further up the back of your shirt, relishing in the expanse of bare skin there, and you take his bottom lip between your teeth in response.
Heaving a sound between a laugh and a moan, James takes his bitten mouth down your throat, laving over marks he’d left mere hours before.
You tilt your head, happy to give him more access, only to find your sorry abandoned egg where you’d left it.
“Oh, we forgot about breakfast,” you stress, reaching for the stove with no real purpose. James catches your hand to bring back to your scene together.
“Forget about it,” he mumbles into your skin, “I’ll cook you som’thin later. Right now I want you back in bed.”
You hum, easily agreeing, though you can’t help your other needs, even as James hikes your legs up and around his waist.
“A sunny side egg, please? With jam on toast?”
Laughing into your mouth, James walks you both out of the kitchen blindly.
“Yeah, pretty girl, whatever you want.”
He aims for another kiss, hot and barreling fast around the corner into carnal, but you pull back one more time before he can get carried away.
“And James?”
“Yeah?”
You can’t believe how handsome and strong he is, or that his strength and good looks are quickly becoming yours to enjoy. Splaying a wide hand over his cheek, you make sure he catches the full weight of your next statement, sweetly murmured into his reddened lips.
“You make me happy, too.”
James’ responding smile outshines the rising sun.
+
thank you for reading! xx
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ch4nb4ng · 10 months
Text
Give it to me Straight
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Pairing: Minho x afab!reader
Genre: Best friend's forbidden older brother
Word Count: 9.1 k (yeah we got carried away once again)
Warnings: Based off of inspo (here) and (here) that is also literally porn so dont click if u dont want to see you have been warned.
Also contains: smut, worshipping, angst, mentions of alcohol and intoxication, fingering (f receiving), kissing, penetration, lots and lots of praise, semi soft smut
Notes: HEY!! this is a fic i wrote hald of last year and just forgot about it and found and decided to finish it, hope oyu enjoy !!
Summary: You had enough of your best friend brother, Minho, giving you mixed signals as you grew up, but this. This was the night that you were finally going to do something about it
The night was pretty much over, or well, it should have been. But here you were, sitting on the floor of a random person’s apartment, giggling over and over as you looked at the other 8 people also sitting down in a circle next to you. There were your friends, Sana and Hyunjin, and there were the others. Actually, quite frankly, you did not know these people until tonight. There was one person that was there, that you did know, all too well.
Minho, Lee Minho. Friend, foe? You weren’t sure what to call him, but all you knew was that you were grinding on him in the club an hour ago, hands roaming across your body, lips, teeth on your neck. It was fun, one shot after another had your mind racing, thinking about the possibilities of what could happen after you went home, with him. What wasn’t helpful was the guilt that came with such excitement. 
“Fuck okay,” the stranger yelled, clapping his hands before swinging them, taking the empty vodka bottle off the kitchen bench, “let’s play a good ole fashion game of spin the bottle. Who’s in?”
“Me me me!”
The small crowd cheered in unison, but all you could do was stare at him. More guilt, more excitement, more adrenaline. The thought of kissing him did nothing but intensify the want, the need, the desire to. Wanting to hook up with your best friend’s older brother was the worst thing that you could want at this very moment.
The relationship with Minho was always strange and never straightforward. Even from the first time the two of you met. Your best friend of almost 10 years since you had been in elementary school, he was just different towards you. When you were younger, all he did was pick on you. The short scrawny boy, only a couple of years older than you. Would always chase you around the school yard, always until you fell over, or hurt yourself in some kind of way. You hated him, and had no idea why he always picked on you specifically. 
It changed in middle school, however, after puberty, well, more for him. His face changed, grew taller, much more attractive in your 14 year old eyes. You denied it though, remembering how cruel he was to you. Not much changed personality wise, he was still mean. Picking on you, your grades, his sister, her grades. He was ruthless, and it made you hate him even more. Minho’s looks were easy to overlook when everything that came out of his mouth was rubbish.
It wasn’t until he left for college, and came back for summer after finishing his first year, did things change. He had grown even taller, started working out, and had joined his college’s dance team. Holy fuck did things became different. His smile beamed as soon as he walked in and you in his house, sitting at the kitchen bench. 
***
“Y/n?”
You turned around, jaw dropping the moment you laid your eyes on him. He dropped everything, fast walking towards you as he picked you up, spinning you around with a large chuckle erupting from his chest. He put you down, eyes doing a quick check up and down your body before biting down on his bottom lip.
“Minho?”
“Wow, you look, really, really good.”
His stance was close, almost lingering over you, that was, until your best friend walked in, causing him to step away, rubbing the back of his neck as he walked to the fridge so nonchalantly. Your friend gave you a weird look, mouthing a ‘sorry,’ solely for his presence in the room. They never were that close.
“I forgot to tell you that he got back a few days ago and is going to be here for the summer.”
“That’s okay,” you scoffed, overexaggerated manner, “why would you need to tell me that.”
“Because I know how he can be,” she whispered, “rude, mean, very obnoxious and super, super arrogant.” 
The second half of her sentence was louder, looking straight at him to make sure she knew. You just laughed, nervously, unsure how to take in the interaction.
“I need to go to the bathroom,” she sighed, “please don’t bully my only friend while I’m gone.”
The man rolled his eyes, laughing as he took a large gulp from his water bottle. He walked forward, waiting for her to leave before reassessing his position. His hands leaned against the bench, body pushing forward as he leaned towards you, a smirk appearing on his lips as he looked down at you.
“I have to go, meeting a friend at the gym, but it was really, really good to see you. We should hang out sometimes if you’re free, you know, without her?”
“We should?”
“Yes,” he smirked, biting down on his bottom lip, “definitely.”
***
“Okay,” the stranger announced to himself, “I’ll go first.”
The game felt like torture. Simply watching the bottle, casting your eyes on what seemed to be an infinite amount of times, spinning on an axis. It didn’t help you at all. If anything, it intensified how dizzy you truly were feeling. Concentration was getting harder, but you refused. Refused to give up anything. You did not want to prove Minho’s point. That you would always be this little girl that is easy to pick on.
“Oh my god,” Hyunjin nudged you, “Y/n, psst, the bottle is on you.”
His knock cloaked you out of your drunken daze, bringing some sobriety back as he pointed towards the bottle, eyes opening when you saw it land on you. You looked up, seeing the stranger was already there. He was attractive, short black hair, hazel eyes, freckles. He was really cute, and your brain melted the longer he gazed at you.
“Hey.”
“Hi,” you whispered, hand in front of your mouth as you giggled at his proximity. You didn’t have to look. The feeling of a pair of eyes burning into the side of your head was more than enough to know who had their eyes on you, and who didn’t. Chan did not, already ditching the game and sloppily making out with the person next to him. Hyunjin followed in pursuit, and Jisung and Sana, well, that was another story, a long time coming. The glance was brief, not long enough to focus on anybody, but well enough to know your surroundings. Enough to see the girl, who looked very familiar, but not enough to be identified by name, whisk her fingers across his inner thigh. He stayed still, not paying any mind to her as he fixated on you. The man joined in the staring contest, noticing Minho’s obviously unimpressed glare. 
He swung his head back in your direction, pushing his body weight on you in the slightest. You followed, back now adjacent to the floor as he leaned over, lips hovering over your own. You brought your index finger to his lips, curious to know more about the man before he kissed you.
“Wait.”
“Is something wrong?” His facial expression changed, unsure as to why or what made you hesitate.
“Oh, no,” you giggled, full of giddyness and intoxication, “your name. I just wanted to know your name before we, well, you know.”
The man smirked, cupping your face in adoration as he leaned closer, lips wisping across your ear as he spoke.
“Well aren’t you just the cutest?”
He pulled away, eyes back in level with your own as he spoke once more, “Felix. I’m Felix.”
That was all you needed, wrapping your arms around Felix’s neck as you pulled him in, eyes closing and mouth opening and lips attacking yours. The kiss in reality, from an outside perspective, would have looked very messy. Very sloppy as lips missed each other, teeth crashed together, and also the fact that you could feel Felix’s hips moving against your own in the slightest, already half hard member grinding against your thigh. It did feel good, you couldn’t fib to yourself. The gentle friction was delicious. It was enough to make you moan discreetly, the sound lost in Felix’s mouth as the two of you continued. 
You were enjoying yourself, but you also remembered not to lose yourself in the moment. Felix was fun, but he was just part of the plan. A simple pawn in a game of chess, of course being the queen and Minho the king. Sometimes you have to make some unnecessary moves to win in the long term. Even with your eyes closed, you could still feel his own burning into the back of your head. If sober, you most likely would have been feeling some kind of guilt. It wasn’t like you to rub things in other people’s faces. But you felt like it was only fitting. Yes, you wanted Minho, but after everything, your timeline with him, having a crush on him for the longest time regardless that he made your life hard, it only felt right to drag this out as much as possible. 
Your eyes fluttered open, empty lidded shooting daggers at him. Appraisal came to your mind when his daggers were returned, gaze still very much fixated on you, with Felix, making out with another man right in front of him. His blood was searing, reaching boiling point at a very rapid rate. He knew you were a lot of things. Sarcastic, blunt, ‘indifferent’ towards him as you got older, or so he thought. But he didn’t take you to be a tease. He was reaching the point of no return, and if you didn’t stop this act, this play scene just for him, he was going to do something he regretted.
“Hmm fuck,” Felix grumbled, pulling away from you, “has anyone ever told you that you’re a really good kisser?”
Your eyes flickered back to the man on top of you, quickly averting your gaze to avoid any deflections from Minho, Chan, or any of the others there that you knew.
“Hey man, what are you doing?”
You sat up immediately, looking up to see Minho’s friend, Jisung, standing over you. His tone was playful, but the adrenaline was kicking in. The several times you met Minho’s friends, they were decent enough to be nice to your face. Anytime you went over, you could hear them. Talking about how you look, always asking Minho about you. Just them teasing him about you. Maybe it was the reason as to why he had so much disdain for you. They were also protective, very protective of him, and probably the reason why they were standing over you right now.
“Oh hey man, you’re not her boyfriend are you?”
“Who, me?” Jisung laughed, hard, almost hysterically, bringing a hand to his chest to calm himself down, “no no, not me, but the guy over there might be a little mad that you’re making out with his girl.”
You rolled your eyes, grabbing onto Felix’s arm, other hand tucking under his chin as you pressed another haste kiss to his lips. You gave Minho one more look, noticing his fists turned inwards, hard shaped as he watched your interactions with the new guy accelerating.
“Good,” He smirked, standing up, and reaching a hand out to you as an invitation, “Did you want to hang out in my room? It’s just down the hall.”
“Sure,” you replied bluntly as you took his invitation. You allowed Felix to guide you, taking one last look at Jisung. Before making your way, you were interrupted one more time. It made you scoff when Minho grabbed your wrist, finally able to do something himself, not his friends doing it for him.
“Y/n?”
“What do you want?”
“Where are you going?”
“What do you think?”
With a heavy grip, attempting to shake yourself out of his grip. There was no way you were giving up on this act yet.
“You just met the guy tonight?”
“Okay and? It’s not like that ever stopped you before. At least I’m not at home, forcing everyone else to hear you late at night.”
He looked down, knowing he had been beaten to the punch. You resisted once more, able to come out of his grip as you looked up and down at him once more, “Stop acting like you give a shit what I do.”
You watched him open his mouth, but missed out on whatever he was going to say. You laughed to yourself, the swift motion of the man from the other side, Felix, the one who was giving you the attention you needed right now. Without a word, he closed the door behind you, spare hand placed on your lower back as he lead you to what seemed to be his bed.You sat down first, Felix making quick work as he stood over you once more, index finger stuck on your shoulder as he effortlessly as he ‘pushed’ you over, torso hovering on top of yours, just like he did previously. You had to give it to him. This Felix guy was smooth. The way he looked down at you, raking your body with every single eye nerve, the gentle twitch when he noticed extra skin showing on your body for a slight moment. He definitely was contributing to your uprising arousal, but the thing that really turned you on was the mere possibility of Minho hearing this. Having his ear up to the door, curious to see what you would really do.
“Hey,” Felix whispered, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, taking you out of your thoughts completely, “everything okay?”
“What? Oh, yeah, where were we?”
You brought a hand to his arm, rubbing up and down in a soothing motion as his own came back to your chin, pinching it forward, lips doting to reconnect with his. His lips were smooth, not a crack or dry spot in sight or in feeling. The kiss was a lot more connected, a lot more teamwork and passion. His tongue lazily slipped inside of your mouth, picking up with much brute and force as his hips charged, recreating the prior friction against your core. Felix had one hand on the side of your jaw, the one on your chin snaking around and cascading down, in between your cleavage, past your navel, brimming on the edge of your undergarment line. You gasped, immediately, not expecting things to move so quickly. A stifled whimper escaped your lips, enjoying the friction his fingers created around the sensitive bundle of nerves.
“Oh,” you groaned, slightly high pitched and confused at first, but once his fingers dived past your dress, underneath your core, right in the center of your sweet spot, you groaned again, a deeper, more gratifying noise bellowing in response.
“Does that feel good?”
“Mhm,” you whispered, looking up at him, “feels so good already.”
Your hand felt dizzy again, a lightheaded texture adding. You weren’t sure if it was his fingers or the alcohol speaking, but it most likely was the loud bang that came from the east part of the room. You jumped immediately, bumping heads with Felix as you quickly covered yourself, given no time to fix your hair as you were being dragged out, Minho’s jaw clenched as he walked you out.
“Sorry, uh Felix, it was nice to meet you,” you yelled down the hallway, pushed all the way to the front door.
“Minho what the fuck?”
“Shut up and get in the car,” he growled, not putting up with any nonsense that you were about to spew at him, “Jisung’s taking us all home, your friends included.”
“Ugh, whatever,” you scoffed, the digging of his fingers becoming slightly painful. You opened the door, seeing Hyunjin’s smirk as soon as he saw you, hand in hand with Minho. He never had to say anything, he always knew how you felt about him, even when it wasn’t clear to you. 
The midnight breeze was very apparent, hitting you like a truck. The goosebumps on your skin raised in an instant, shiver running down your spine as you walked. Minho let go of your wrist, removing his jump over his head, and plopping it on top of yours. You wanted to turn, scream at him for ruining your hair, not even thinking about your makeup. But honestly, you were just tired. It was late. 
***
You pushed the button down in the backseat, letting the cool breeze smack you across the face as Jisung drove down the highway. It felt nice, distracting you from the imminent pressing of your best friend’s brother inconveniently pressing up against you, too big for the middle seat. Of course he had to sit next to you. Invade your personal space, your privacy. He was still overprotective of you, even when you were by yourselves. It was annoying, and you really didn’t know why he was always like this with you after the needless torture that was gorwing up with him around. 
You decided to put the window up, a sudden drowsiness coming over you as you leaned your head against the window. Your eyes were fluttering, half lidded when you felt someone whispering, right up to your ear. His lips were cold, roughly but incidentally lingering on your lobe.
“Y/n,” Minho hushed, patting your arm lightly, “y/n, baby.”
“Mhm,” you mumbled, furrowing your eyebrows, “what is it?”
“We’re here, wake up.”
“Oh,” you sighed, releasing your weight on the window. Your eyes opened, turning from the window, which was a big mistake. You caught yourself, inches away from your face. Apart from the club, it was the closest you had been ever to him. You saw him, looking down at your lips, causing you to gulp loudly. You wanted to lean in, push away all the doubt you had in your mind, and follow your heart. To have him on your lips, around your body, caressing every crevice, every curve. It was something you had fantasized about in your head several times, whether you wanted to or not. Your hand flew to his chest, truly speechless and unsure what to say.
“Minho. I-”
He licked his lips, fingers latching onto your jaw, thumb against the subtlety of your lips. He flipped, lip bouncing back as he leaned even closer. His breath had never felt so imminent, not even the first time the two of you had shared a kiss.
***
“Did you need help?”
Your heart almost jumped out of your chest, about to lose balance on the stool. The tea bags were high in the cupboard, and you weren’t the tallest person going around. Minho put his arms out, helping you adjust yourself before stepping down and back onto the ground.
“Yeah,” you chuckled, “you know me, never able to reach anything.”
“It’s okay, they’re stored pretty high up.”
Without giving you time to move, he reached over, torso pressed against your chest, half of his body weight leaning on you as he reached up to grab one for you. Your face rose in heat as he placed it on the bench behind you, keeping firm in his position.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, still not moving, “I probably shouldn’t have done that.”
“Oh, uhm no, it’s okay” you mumbled back, pushing the hair behind your ear. He beat you to the other side, lifting his fingers, watching how delicately the fibers of your hair curved along your ear lobe. 
Faces inching closer, it felt like do or die, but you would rather get hit by a truck than make the first move. Minho was the type to flirt, hard. He knew he could get anyone he wanted. College really changed him. For the better though, even if it meant he became a mass fuckboy.
“You have a really, uhm, beautiful face.”
He had become nervous all of a sudden, and you couldn’t help but smile. Smile at both his nerves and slight awkwardness, as well as his proximity. 
“Uhm thanks,” you mumbled again, scared that if you attempted to speak at a normal volume, it would squeak, “you have a nice face as well.”
“Shut up,” he mumbled, piercing eyes boring into yours.
“Make me.”
He hesitated for a brief moment, before bringing both hands to your face, pressing his lips to yours. It was soft at first, a series of gentle pecks you wrapped your hand palms around his neck, keeping him close. His body felt good, right when close to you.
It didn’t take long for things to heat up however, Minho’s tongue begging for access as you gave it to him willfully, a gentle hum as he simultaneously rolled his hips into yours once. A soft groan escaped your lips, causing him to pull away. The smirk on his face was priceless; you knew he was satisfied with himself. His hands snaked down to your waist, lifting you up and placing you on the kitchen bench. Minho nudged your leg with his left knee, spreading them wide, allowing himself to fit into the curve. He kept his digits across your fingertips, gently tapping as he leaned back in, skipping the innocent kisses and heading straight to a heavy, heavy makeout. The noises erupting were increasing in quantity, and it wasn’t until you heard footsteps running down the steps were you snapped back into reality. Hands on his chest, you pushed him off quickly, pushing your hair back in front of your face.
“Y/n what’s taking you so long?”
“Oh uhm, I was just trying to reach the teabags.”
“Yeah,” Minho joined in, helping you cover your ass, “I just grabbed it for her, seeing as she was already in my way to get to the glasses, annoying ass.”
“Okay whatever weirdo,” she replied to him, “stop annoying Y/n.”
***
The memory of the flashback playing in spurts, ones that your intoxicated mind was probably failing to accurately recall the event. It was, however, enough for you to pull away. Saying nothing, you turned away, opening the car door, semi-stumbling onto the ground as you jumped out the car, heading towards his front door. Luckily your best friend was out of town, away on a camping weekend with her boyfriend and her parents, because if she heard you walking in with Minho, it was game over.
“Y/n,” he whispered, tone harsh like he wanted to yell, “y/n.”
It was nothing but a faint noise in the distance. You stood there, in front of the door, impatiently waiting for it to be unlocked. It wasn’t until you could feel him. He grabbed your wrist, almost having to yank you back to stop you.
“What,” you whispered back, similar in tone, “what do you want?”
He waited. It looked like he was trying to put a thought together, knowing that he needed to say something very important. It could make or break: everything. He took a step closer, that familiar feeling of adrenaline, no, some other feeling that you couldn’t describe. Made your heart race, body sweat. You couldn’t put your finger on what it was. All you knew was that it only happened when he was around you.
“I’m, I’m sorry.”
You looked up at him, adoration at how gentle his skin glowed in the moonlight. Fuck, this was annoying. Why did he have to be so hot? It would have been the easy way out to forgive him and let him do what you craved, yearned for. But it was simply too much to do so. This man had been toying with your heart for a long time. Whether he had a crush on you for the lingering amount of time that you had, you deserved better than someone who played with you for their own amusement.
“What are you sorry for?”
Your tone was calm, yet still firmly questioning him. It was easier to just deny the night events than argue about it.
***
The music was loud, deafening as Minho, dragging you by the delicacy of your poor wrist, locked in a spot right next to the speaker right beside the DJ of the club, aka pole position. At first the dancing was innocent, a bright smile of pure joy (and intoxication) plastered across your face, holding each other’s hands as you pushed and pulled them back and forth. It wasn’t until the motions of arms were not moving in the opposite directions, somehow were both pulling in his direction, right up against his waist. The music was much too loud to allow your rational cognitions to process the sequence of events. Facing him, not facing him. Appropriate distance, very much appreciate distance. It was hard to explain how you ended up with your back pressed against Minho’s chest, somehow in the monstrosity of alcoholic beverages and shots actually moving your hips in a synchronized way with his. Maybe it was the firm grip, thumb digging into the soft flesh that was hardly hidden under that dress, making sure that this was the only place you needed to be, that he wanted you to be. 
Your hands easily followed too, palms on top of this tendon illuminating the side of his hands as his lips rested on the outside of the cartilage that made up your ear. The second time you could feel the magic that was his lips. The crowd that was Minho’s friends and the new, yet very much fun strangers that would end up making the later house party were long gone at this very moment. The only thing you could remember was coming with Minho, and the last thing you wanted to do was leave with him.
“Mmmm,” was all that could be heard, well no, felt from the man behind you. The vibrations of his lips were the only indicator that he was trying to say something. His teeth soon followed. Gentle, almost kitten-like nibbles nipped at the heated flesh of the neck and shoulder, head falling limp against his own shoulder as he continued to chuckle inbetween. There seemed to be an innocence to his antics, almost like he didn’t want to hurt you. Yet knowing the downright filthy desires, things he wanted to do, for a numerous amount of time was very much ironic.
Turning around, you pulled away, eyes boring into yours and his face came closer and closer. Eyes fluttering shut like a butterfly's wings for a brief moment, desire had never been stronger.
“There he is, Jisung!”
And just like that, it was over. Reality came back and your Minho clouded fog dissipated in a matter of moments, and it must have for him. You had never seen someone take their hands of someone with such speed. The timely reaction of Minho brought you back to a realistic part of your life. The one where this was nothing but a dream, and Minho was once again out of reach, and the many barriers that were his friends, your friend being in the way, made you nothing but a pawn in his chess game.
***
You stood there in silence, the only sound that could be heard was the ringing in your ears from the loud music prior. The want for him to explain himself was one of such desperation. A sign, anything at this point. Yes, you were very much exhausted from the games but if it was all worth it for him to finally do something about it in the end, the fatigue would be easily wiped away.
“I don’t mean to be this way. So, uhm, aggressive? Or the opposite, I don’t know I-”
“Minho in the nicest way possible, I’m tired and we’ve both had a big night. We can talk about it in the morning.”
Using the spare key that your friend had so graciously given you as a symbol of how much time you truly spent at her house, his house, over the years, the door was unlocked, you ripping your shoes off and letting them laz sprawl against the living room carpet as your body heavily dragged up the stairs. Your feet automatically knew the way to her room, 4 paces straight and two to the left. To get to his it was 7 paces straight 2 to the right. The 4th step on the second floor felt unnatural at this moment, body wanting nothing more than to be pressed up against him in a deep slumber, you craved it; but you knew better at the same time.
“Y/n.”
Silence. You could feel him coming closer, but it’s honestly just too painful at this point to even wait for anything more.
“Y/n.”
Silence, again. It wasn’t until you could feel the unintentionally harsh pull at your wrist, once again pulling back and up against him.
“Y/n wait.”
“For fucks sake Minho,” you huffed, yanking your arm away from his grip, “leave me alone.”
“No, I want to talk about it now.”
Nothing but an eye roll followed, ignoring him and storming into her room. He followed in pursuit, the first time any kind of behavior like this from Minho had happened before. Sitting on the edge of the side of her bed, you turned away as you took off your jewelry, precious earring and delicate chain necklace lying on this decorative plate placed on the bedside table.
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Can we please stop pretending like there isn’t something going on between us?”
He was not serious. His bold statement made you stop, turn around and face him.
“You have to be joking right now.”
“Why would I be joking?”
“Minho” you yelled, standing back up and right in front of him, “this is nothing but a fucking game to you! We don't have a problem, YOU do.”
“I don’t play games with you,” Minho scoffed, eyes wide in his own disbelief, “you play games with me.” His voice was also beginning to rise in volume.
“That’s such a fucking lie! You’ve been playing games with me for years. Three quarters of my life! I know that you hated me or couldn’t stand me for most of that but then all of a sudden you come back from college and you want to be around me and all over me?”
“That’s not true-”
“Yes it is! You couldn’t stand me!! Then the kiss in the kitchen? Tonight, you were all over me and I could tell, drunk or sober, that you were enjoying yourself. Until your friends come along and I’m nothing but a secret little game-”
“No Y/n, shut up, that's not true!”
“Explain yourself then!” 
Both of your chests were heaving simultaneously, the heated exchange taking the breath out of the two of you. There was no part of you that was wrong, and you knew better than to lack confidence, especially to someone who has kicked you around for what felt like your whole life.
“I never hated you,” he whispered, once again shifting the tense atmosphere in the room. He took a step closer, that goddamn palm resting on your cheek, fingertips pushing the baby hairs sticking to your forehead as you took him in, listening deeply to his words, “I could never hate somebody like you, Y/n.”
His tonality had become the softest you had ever heard someone speak. It was empowering to keep him on his toes, gaze fixated on him, but lips refusing to move. You could see it. The dip in his own gaze below your eye line, past the tip of your nose, and right to where you wanted his lips to be: your lips. The right thing, like your previous thoughts, was to pull away, save yourself the heartbreak.
“Let me take the time to show you how false that statement really is.” 
But god, was it it easier to just give him. His approach was gentle, but the texture of his lips felt like the key to everything. The light weight of his lips were equivalent to a tuft of feathers falling from a clear sky. Your lips tussled in return, wanting to kiss the man you were in love with so much passion, yet so much reservation. His lips, unlike the first time, had so much admiration for you, somehow the feeling was communicated in the way his lips touched yours, the way his tongue slipped into your mouth, colliding with your own. The world stopped spinning, and the only thing that mattered was Minho’s lingering touch.
His hands scrambled to find an appropriate spot. His palms spread across your waist, the pressure of his weight pushing you to the edge of the bed, a small shriek escaping your lips as the sudden knock of balance leaves you lying against the material of the bed. His hands left your sides, one coming to your face as he broke away, taking a moment to admire you underneath him in all your beauty. He lifted his fingers to your forehead, brushing the baby hairs on your skin before smiling and leaning back in for another kiss. Hands around his neck, you brought him closer, gasping into his mouth when you felt the roughness of his knee conveniently sitting between your inner thigh, spreading to make room for his own. 
You decided to take the liberty of breaking the kiss back this time, Minho rising on his own as he pulled his shirt off in one swift motion. Even the way he moved his limbs was majestic. Eyes widening for a brief moment as the shock of Minho’s body that you had seen many times, especially post-college transformation, it still amazed you how attractive this man was. The proximity all these years amounting to this moment. All the teasing, ignoring, negative behavior came as the collateral of coming to this moment; and you would tolerate all of it again if this what it would lead to. Which is why you refused to rush things, savor the moment as much as you could.
“Minho, wait.”
“Yes?”
“Can we just,” you were hesitant to ask for what felt like a silly request, “I don’t want to rush anything. Can we just make out a little longer?”
His chuckle was one of the most adored. He nodded as he got up from the bed, sitting back down at the edge of the right side. As he turned to put his leg atop of the bed, he leant on his left elbow, patting the empty spot next to him, a very adorable invitation that you simply could not resist. You shooed over, facing Minho as he pinched your chin, bringing your lips to his again. The kisses, for the moment, stayed soft, sweet. He was allowing you to take your time because he was ready. Minho wanted you so bad, but he knew better than to rush. If anything, the anticipation made him fall for you more.
However, the heat was unconsciously beginning to turn up once bodies became involved. The subtle grind of his hips against yours was sending you into a frenzy, and the friction was something you needed to chase. At first you were holding back, only wanting the generosity of his tongue and lips, but now the selfish part of you was taking over, and there was nothing more that you wanted than to have sweet passionate sex with the man in front of you. Gently pushing his chest away, he looked up, confused as you turned away from him, standing up and undoing the zip on the back of your dress.
“Oh,” was all he could say, a smirk plastered on his face as he dragged your body back toward him, now covered in undergarments, back to the bed. His hands became a lot more adventurous, taking the signal of you undressing yourself as an acceleration of what you wanted. Still facing each other, Minho placed a gentle peck to your lips as his arms wrapped around your waist, bringing you much closer to him, and exactly where you wanted to be. 
Once the lack of space was established, Minho brought the tip of his digits just above your panty line. A small gasp elicited from your lips once his fingers dipped down to your clothing covering your core. Just above the center of the folds. Minho’s lips quiver at your body relaxing underneath his touch. The more vulnerable you became, the more in love he fell with you. Each second. Your eyes fluttering almost shut, hips gently bucking underneath the pressure of his fingers had his mind screaming with adoration. His gaze was making you shy, causing you to bury your head in his naked chest. You giggled with innocence at how good his fingers felt. The other times you reminisced, romanticized what this would be like was tenfold of what you actually expected. 
“You’re so beautiful” he whispered, a soft kiss to the tip of your forehead. Your head came out of his chest, a somewhat fucked out expression already coatign your face as his fingers traveled back to the top of your panties, fingers grasping the hem before asking, “Can I take this off?”
You nodded, this time without hesitance as you turned to your front, assisting Minho in letting the thin fabric subtracted from your body. Your bra soon followed, leaving you completely exposed. Minho still had his pants on which you felt to be a little unfair, but the tent that was beginning to form in his pants was a reason enough for him to keep them on longer. 
Turning back to your side, you reached him in another sensual kiss, bodies now as close as they had even been. Minho’s fingers had much more to travel, left palm already reaching for a gentle squeeze of your best breast. His touch was noticeable enough to break away, a small groan at the digits brushing your nipple. Another chuckle escaped his lips as he watched your nipples get harder under his touch.
“Wow,” Minho gasped, gently pinching the soft flesh his eyes couldn’t help but be glued to, “you look amazing.”
“Do I?”
“More than I could have ever  imagined.”
Your silence made him giggle, fingers snaking back down to where the two of you wanted them to be. It was almost embarrassing how easily his index and middle finger slipped between your folds, already coated in your arousal as his digits swirled around your pussy hole. It was evident that he wanted his fingers coated, so when he brought them up to his lips, tongue evidently out as he licked them clean, then slid them back down to your waist once more, spreading your folds apart and pushing on your clit like a button. Your hands grabbed onto his shoulders for support, the sudden amount of sensation in comparison to before sending you into a frenzy. Your jaw had already become slick, the gentle whines and moans spilling out sound after sound. 
“Fuck,” He cursed under his breath, lips right in front of your tits, teeth grazing over the geneoristy of the skin, “you have the features of an angel.”
His shower of compliments caused a louder moan to slip from your lips. It really wasn’t something that you expected. The fantasy you had of Minho being a rough, man handling lover contrasted to the man that presented in front of you right now. But it was much better than anything you ever thought he was to be.
His fingers moved in delicate circular motions, Minho himself groaning at how pretty you looked under his fingers. He kept his curiosity peaked, fingers traveling back down to your hole before plunging them inside, tips instantly curling to bring his lips right up against his own.
“Minho oh my god,” you gasped, short breaths hinting at a rapid pace from your throat as he started to move them back and forth, “your fingers are so good.”
“Your welcome,” he smiled, wrapping his free arm around your chest to adjust for the way your torso squirmed against him. Your own hands soothing his arm that did all the work as he picked up his pace, a slight bump forming into your pussy. Minho’s pace became quickly unforgiven, a spill of curse words that made you feel extremely dirty coming from your mouth. The irony of feeling dirty from cussing and not from the two fingers being shoved into your whole was comedic. 
“Lift it,” Minho grunted, attempting to fix his position so he could get a better angle to finger you from, “lift your leg and put it on my hip.”
You did as he said, a gut wrenching moan that was bubbling in your throat bursting at the seams as your maneuver allowed his finger to enter deeper, stronger, harder. The combination of skin slapping and wetness could be heard by anyone in the house if there was anyone in there, the noise echoing the room as you watch his eyebrows furrow, bitten bottom lip in concentration. All this time, Minho wanted nothing more than to see you be happy, make you feel good. It was in half disbelief that he was present in this moment that he had dreamed of several times. And his perception of you, with his fingers inside of you, moaning his name over and over exceeded expectations to say the least. The temperature that began to rise on your cheeks was spreading to your limbs, muscles slowly coiling as the pleasure continued to build at your core. Minho’s jaw clenched, increasing his effort and strength in, with much effort, fucking you with his fingers. His pace became even quicker, desperate and motivated to make you shake under his fingers.
“Minho please,” you cried, suffocating his lips with yours to muffle the continuous noise that baffled the room, “so good.”
Your sentences, if you could even call them that, were not coherent in the slightest. Yet it did not matter. All Minho could focus on was how beautiful you looked with your lips pouted, the gentle teeth marks under your bottom lip from biting down on your precious skin too hard. The condensation beginning to cover the skin of your forehead as your eyebrows scrunched together, your facial expression could have been interpreted as anger. However, Minho failed to see it that way. He saw you as nothing but an angelic woman that he had the gratitude of being allowed to share a moment of vulnerability with. There was no judgment in his eyes as he felt your tight pussy clench around his knuckles, knowing how close to what you were, and what he wanted to achieve for your sake.
“It’s okay baby,” he whispered, wiping the moisture glistening on the nose, half of your face shimmering in the moonlight as he withdrew his fingers, rubbing the sensual juices all over your swollen clit as your legs began to shake in response to the overwhelming stimulation you were experiencing.
“Can you feel it?”
“Mhhm,” you whined, suppressing your lips together as you focused on him, analyzing to him the intricate details of your body. His lips moved with vigor, leaving a string of semi wet kisses along your shoulder, kissing every little skin contusion, beauty mark, scab, wrinkle, dimple. You name it, Minho was eager to use his lips to analyze you, analyze the way your skin felt against him. The idea increased your arousal to a level you thought would not be possible.
“I’m gonna cum Minho I-”
“It’s okay baby,” Minho hushed you, wanting to relive any pressures or expectations you may think you need to fulfill “even the way you speak such vulgar things is angelic to me.”
“I’m cumming,” was all you could cry out. You know that once this was over, you would be appreciative of how gentle and warm his presence was to you during this unguarded moment, but right now all you could focus on was the tight coil in the pit of your stomach that would give out at any second. Like your foreshadowed, your body was coming undone under him, Minho unable to give up the succulent ability that was your pussy as he reinserted his two fingers back into your hole, thumb almost ghosting over your clit in an attempt to not overwhelm your body in sensation.
Minho thought you couldn’t get any more fascinating. Even the way you orgasmed was angelic. Legs spread wide open as you let him have his way. The trust you developed in him in this intricate moment was such an attraction but mainly an appreciation. He knew that he had not been the most trustworthy person to you. His mixed signals and just overall treatment of you was simply a mind of confusion.
On the contrary, every negative moment that you shared with him melted away. The part of him having his fingers inside of you, bringing you to climax was not what you were focused on. You were focused on the attention. Solely the attention, his words held so much more weight than his actions to you in this moment, and all he did was mumble sweet nothings, adoring every single part of you that you wanted Minho to love.
“Fuck baby,” Minho groaned, finally withdrawing his fingers entirely from your core as he palmed his own arousal. But he merely wasted any time on that as he stood up and discarded his pants in an instant. A half lidded gasp came from your throat as you watched his length spring free from the suffocation of his previous undergarments. Minho laid back on the bed, back against the bed as you extended a hand in which you willingly took, enjoying the sudden rapture that Minho had tangled the two of you in. His fingertips came to your face once more, brushing those delicate strands away as he took his precious time. Willingly ignoring the fact that your very slicked up pussy was creating friction against his tip, he was more focused on your face. The crinkles underneath your eyes that came up when you smiled. The way your lips turned upwards in the slightest. The longer he looked up at you, on his lips, body pressed up against his, the more he fell in love. Both of your hands now came to his face. It felt like hours upon hours that the two of you had been looking at each other. Calmness fell over the room as you leant down to kiss him again. The taste of him was simply nor enough. You needed him. On you, next to you; it did not matter. His presence was something that you truly craved. Sexually, platonically, romantically, it did not matter. Any closeness with Minho was more than adequate. Deciding to lift your hips slightly, your hands followed, gripping him as you slowly slid onto him, a deep groan leaving his lips, a soft moan leaving yours as he stretched you out. Before you could even initiate any moment, Minho grabbed your arm lifting your palm to his face as he sent kisses up your arm, almost as if he was in complete disbelief of what was happening in this moment.
“I just want to worship you my god,” he whispered, making you giggle in the slightest.
His lips traveled just under your shoulder, arms wrapping around his torso to bring you into another embrace. It was that his strength was brute enough to lift you up, and put your back down. Hisbody almost moved with vigor, wanting to make sure the experience was an equal one. A sharp whine came from you as he established a gentle pace, your whole body being used in an attempt to pleasure the both of you. Someone may have seen this as selfish, Minho controlling the pace, but really, he just couldn’t get enough of how much he wanted you. The amount of times he had thought about this moment over the years almost derailed him. But nothing could be more perfect than the moment right now. 
Your arms were wrapped around his neck, then on his chest, across his face, you were too stimulated to be organized with your hand placements. It’s just what he did to you. Minho could tell that you were unsure, so instead he just put his head in your chest, almost wanting you to wrap your fingers though the bse of his scalp, the gentle texture of your fingers against his scalp could have honestly made his toes curl. Just like you, Minho craved your touch in any way shape or form, so the combined combainton of your closeness, tussling digits, and tight pussy was sending him into a headspin.
“Minho,” you hesitated, unsure, if he could hear you in the muffle of your chest, “Minho.”
You were desperate for him to hear you, yanking on his locks to pull him away from the darkness and back into your gaze. His eyes were glazed over for a moment, an innocent peaking on them as he looked up at you with intent.
“Yes my princess, my Y/n?”
“Yours?”
The skin slapping, volume of each time your ass landed on his hips was increasing, but no matter the crescendo, it was never loud enough to get in the way of the intimate looks the two of you had a silent agreement to fixate on.
“Mine,” he moaned, hands snaking back down to your hips, breaking this distance and once again guiding the speed of how fast he filled you up, “all mine.”
“You’re so gorgeous,” you mumbled, barely able to talk at this point, “I want you so bad you have no idea.”
“You have me,” he almost chanted, “you have me. I have you. Always.”
Your head rolled back, the intimacy of his words, rather than his cock, bringing you closer to the brink of pleasure. The attractiveness of finally putting his walls down, striking his fear of vulnerability was unmatchable. Even if things didn’t work out with Minho in the future, you knew that deep down, no one else could ever make you feel this way. Minho was a witch, and the spell he was casting on you was something that would be everlasting.
“I love you,” you cried, throwing your head back in somewhat embarrassment, “I love you Minho.”
“I love you too baby fuck,” he grunted, increasing the strength in which he filled your pussy. He couldn’t handle this anymore. Flipping you over, his body hovered, cock pressing your back into the mattress. On his knees, Minho trusted deeper and deeper, your eyes almost cloudy from how good he truly felt inside of you. Another sensuous kiss ensured, the combination of his deep moans and your vibrating whines slipped into each other 's, easily one of the most intimate things that could ever be done. 
“Mhhm,: You whined, breaking away and placing a hand on his face, “I fucking love you.”
“I fucking love you, my Y/n.”
“Oh god,” you breathe heavily, free hand gripping on his shoulder, “I love when you call me that?”
“What? My Y/n?”
“Yes,” you hissed, piercing into his eyes, this time with vigor, “it makes me yearn for you.”
“You have me baby,” he smirked, eyebrows soon furrowing as he realized his hips were getting sloppy in motion, “I’m all yours.”
You could not stop kissing him. He was just too hard to resist. His words, actions, everything, you were so in love that your chest began to hurt. That pit was developing again, and all he had to do was say the words and you were there. Minho took your hand away from his face, pinning them on either side of you as he slid his fingers in between, allowing your hand to intertwine with yours. The affection was the icing on your cake, because as you felt the swirls of his finger prints trickle onto your palm, your hips were spasming.
“Minho I’m-”
“I know baby, it’s okay, he cooed, “I can feel your pussy clenching hard.”
A little giggle escaped your lips as your body raked itself of an orgasm. Back arching, the loudest noise you could have possibly made erupted from your mouth, the unintentionally new angle allowing Minho to plunge even deeper, keeping it slow as he allowed you to come down from the high. He pulled out right after, pumping himself a few times before finishing just above your core. He fell to your side, immediately lifting your body, wanting to feel that constant warmth as he placed your head against his chest, arms wrapped around your back as he kissed the mount of hair in front of his face. His heartbeat was warm, fast, but stil, a sense of comfort felt over your body as you listened to the organ pump in his chest. The moment was silent, yet comfortable, the both of you simultaneously soaking in that delicacy of affection that you both oh so craved, longed for.
Even after all of that, you still had the energy to do so. Minho read your mind, giving you a quick peck before quickly pacing out of the room. The ache in your heart had already reappeared at his absence. The craving would never stop. Luckily he was quick, grabbing a paper towel, cleaning you up, running back to the bin, the running back and jumping onto the bed, your body flying in the air as he caught you, snuggling up to your side with his head pressed into your chest. Your hand came to his hair, letting those fingertips frolic across his scalp. A silence fell over the room as the two of you simultaneously stared at the ceiling, the dim shine of the moonlight shining through the window, lingering across Minho’s side profile.
“I was being serious, you know.”
“About what?”
“Hating you.”
Minho turned onto his chest, wanting to make sure that you were staring at him when he said this.
“I could never hate you Y/N, my Y/N.”
He crawled up to your side, tall enough to press one more kiss, lips lingering across yours as your eyes fluttered shut from his touch. Lifting the cover, Minho invites you under after climbing in first, turning to the side to hover over your now very tired frame. Lips nudged behind your warm Minho kept mumbling, a combination of kissing you and whispering, the tiny vibrations from his voice tickling the bare skin.
“You’ll have to kill more before I ever let you go.”
2K notes · View notes
zarameraki · 11 days
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˖°🕷️ ࣪𖤐 𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗽-𝗳𝗮𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗼𝗷𝗶 ˖°🕷️𖤐
: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 minors do not interact 𖥔 unprotected sex 𖥔 step-father x step-daughter 𖥔 porn with plot 𖥔 banter 𖥔 dom daddy and his little girl 𖥔 neck kissing 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 praise 𖥔 bj 𖥔 biting 𖥔 nipple play 𖥔 daddy issues 𖥔 dirty talking 𖥔 small pillow talk 𖥔 nsfw 𖥔 smut
: ̗̀➛ words: 4.0k
: ̗̀➛ notes: ok look, i was ovulating and i had to write this for some reason. i even wrote a nanami one (but he's your step-uncle). my mind was in the gutter and i wanted to challenge myself to something super taboo. if you have any requests, don’t hesitate to send them. pls follow, reblog, like, comment—whatever you want! okay love you and enjoy.
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Here you were, standing on a worn-out welcome mat, staring at the door of your ex-stepfather’s house.
It’s surreal.
A month ago, when your mom dropped the bomb about their divorce, you felt like your world was crumbling. Part of you felt relieved, like you could finally breathe without suffocating under their constant tension. And the other part? Well, it felt like a piece of you was being ripped away.
Last week, when the papers were finalized, making it official that they were done, you locked yourself in your room. The silence was deafening, and you couldn’t shake off that nagging feeling of missing him. Missing Toji. It’s ridiculous, right? He’s not your step dad anymore. He’s just some guy now. Too old, too wrong, too different.
You should just turn around and leave, forget about all this.
But you couldn’t.
Not today.
Not when you’re clutching your hard-earned bachelor’s degree, wearing a stupid graduation gown that felt like a costume. He didn’t bother showing up for your biggest achievement, just like your mother. She was always occupied with her own life to care about you. You were just an accident, a spill on her pile of kitchen table bills. 
Toji, though, he was different. He actually paid attention, listened to you, cared about what you had to say. Maybe you’re being stupid for wanting to talk to him, to pour out everything that’s been eating you up for months. But you needed to do this, for yourself, even if it meant facing the reality that he’s not part of your life anymore.
So, you’d driven straight to his residence building, skipping the after parties with your friends. You were twenty-two for fuck’s sake. If you wanted to spend the night celebrating with your step-dad, then that’s exactly what you were going to do. 
Enough was enough. 
Your trembling finger hovered over the doorbell, each second feeling like an eternity. The sharp pricks of anxiety danced on your palms, and the weight on your shoulders threatened to crush you. But you couldn’t turn back now.
The ache in your chest demanded resolution, an answer to the haunting question that had plagued you since your mother first brought him into your life: Do I want to fuck my step-dad? 
Yes. Yes, you very much did. 
The clicks of the lock rattled and the door knob twisted clockwise. 
Toji stood in the doorway, his presence dominating the space as if he had devoured the entire door frame. His twelve abdomen muscles rippled, stark against his skin. Jet-black hair clung wetly to his forehead, partially obscuring his eyes. With sweatpants slung low on his hips, a tantalizing trail of hair led downward, drawing attention to the area you often found yourself fantasizing about.
“Fucking hell,” he muttered under his breath, realization dawning. “It was today, wasn’t it?”
“You’re such an ass,” you spat out, your body trembling with a mix of emotions—his forgetfulness, his proximity to you, the sheer presence of him. But at this moment, all your focus was on the pain of him abandoning you after promising he’d be there. “I was completely alone, Toji. Do you even understand how embarrassing it was to stand there by myself while everyone else had their families?”
“Sweetheart—”
“No. No, you don’t get to call me that. You don’t—You made me a promise, Toji. You swore you’d be there for me.”
“I know,” he murmured, running his hand down his face. “I’m sorry, kid. Come here.” He grasped your wrist and drew you towards him, enveloping you in a tight embrace. His strong arms wrapped around your body, reminiscent of the times he used to challenge you by having you sit on his back during push-ups to prove you wrong about being too heavy for him. “Better?”
“No,” you grumbled, resting your cheek against his chest. He had the scent of spruce and cigarettes that you found strangely comforting. What you wouldn’t do to sleep on his chest for hours, days and weeks. “Toji, I . . . I want to talk to you about something.” 
“What is it?” he asked, stepping back. 
“Can we sit down first?” 
He grinned. “Of course, baby.” 
With a shy smile of your own, you took his hand, feeling the warmth of his touch as he led you towards the plush couch at the center of the room. Memories of previous visits with your mother flashed briefly in your mind, but they were quickly replaced by the present moment.
The apartment’s decor was simple yet masculine, with red-brick walls lending a rustic charm. A mounted television, a large couch, and a hanging boxing bag added character to the space. The kitchen, though small, was designed in an L-shape, showcasing Toji’s dedication to fitness with his assortment of protein powders and supplements neatly arranged.
As you both settled onto the couch, Toji relaxed back, spreading out his legs and placing his arms on the backrest. His gaze lingered on you as you gracefully removed your graduation gown and placed your degree on his coffee table. 
“Your mother allowed you to wear that?” His thumb traced the curve of his lower lip as his gaze roamed shamelessly over you.
The gown you had on was a sleek, satin creation with a daring thigh-high slit. Its fabric was delicate, featuring thin straps and a plunging cleavage that barely contained your breasts. It was no secret that you had chosen it with Toji in mind, especially since your mother had been “too busy” to accompany you on your shopping trip.
“She doesn’t control my wardrobe,” you replied, your voice laced with confidence as you settled beside him. One leg tucked beneath you, the other languidly extended, the slit in your dress showcasing the smoothness of your skin. Toji’s gaze followed the line of exposed flesh before meeting your eyes. “Besides, you shouldn’t be the one to talk.” 
His smirk widened when you pointed out his lack of a shirt. “My house, my rules.”
You changed the subject. “Care to explain why you missed my graduation?”
“Work,” he replied shortly.
“Is that so?”
“I got a last-minute call for a match. The prize money was going to cover the next three months’ rent.” Toji was a professional MMA fighter. You had once attended one of his matches for ten minutes before almost passing out from witnessing how brutally he defeated his opponent. His persona in the ring was a juxtaposition to the sarcastic yet caring man he was at home with you.
“Did you win?” you asked, absently twirling the bracelet he had given you for your twenty-first birthday.
“Yeah,” he replied, his tone carrying a hint of pride. “I won.”
“Good.” You lifted your gaze to meet his, only to find his eyes fixed on you. “Do you miss home?”
“I am home.”
“You know what I mean.”
He took a deep breath, gazing at the blank television screen. Tilting his head back towards you, he wore a lopsided grin. “I miss you. Does that count?”
Your insides turned to jelly at his words, but you refused to let yourself falter, refusing to become the shy, sweet girl you once were, despite the depraved and forbidden reel playing in your mind. 
You missed watching television with your head on his lap. You missed cooking together. You missed doing the dishes afterward. You missed joining him on walks and runs just to spend a little extra time together. You missed dragging him to malls with you and trying on clothes, posing as sexily as you could, but obviously, he didn’t understand the signals. He never did. Even if you’d spend more time with him than your own mother. 
Silence ensued around you, only the subtle sounds of your choppy breaths and his composed ones were heard. 
“Why are you here, kid?” Toji’s gruff voice cut through the air.
“To see you.” 
“Why are you here?” 
You held your breath tightly in your chest. “I wanted to talk.” 
“About?” He was quick with the question, as if he knew what you were about to say, but wanted to hear it from your lips. Lips that he couldn’t pull his eyes away from. “Talk to me.” 
“I—” You felt a knot form in your throat. “I wanted to check up—”
“Bullshit.” 
Yeah, bullshit. 
What were you scared of? This was the man who cut up fruits for you when you were mentally deprived from crunching for your exams. This was the man who put a blanket on you if you fell asleep reading, even giving a kiss to your crown. This was the man who treated you like you were his own daughter, when in reality, you never were. And he never outwardly called you his daughter, either. You didn’t know why you never saw him as a father figure, but rather, you called him a friend. A really good friend. A friend you’d fallen stupidly in love with over the course of six months. 
Toji snapped his fingers in front of your face. You blinked out of the whirlpool of your thoughts. “Where’d you go?” 
“To you.” 
He lifted a brow. “To me?” 
Now or never, Y/N. Now or fucking never. 
You knelt down and moved closer, settling yourself onto his lap. His eyes widened momentarily at your boldness. “Toji, I like you. Hell, I love you. I love every version of the man you’ve been in my life. I know—I know you love me, too. Probably not in the way I want you to, but a girl can hope.” Your words were directed at the dog tag hanging from his neck as you gently placed your hands on his chest. “I did come here to scold you for not attending my graduation, but I also wanted to . . . I wanted to be with you. In more ways than one.” 
“You don’t know what you’re talk—”
“I do,” you stated firmly. Your lashes lifted and found his narrowed scrutiny. Unconsciously, his hands rested on your waist, molding to your curves. “I’ve known for a while now. It didn’t click in until you moved out. I swear Toji, it was like I couldn’t breathe without you.” 
“Baby . . . ” 
“I want you,” you confessed in a hushed tone, your fingers tracing the lines of his broad shoulders, then up to the sturdy column of his neck where his pulsing veins hinted at his emotions. “I know I seem desperate, but I don’t care. You’re not hers anymore. You were never hers.” 
“Y/N—”
“Please, Toji. Please, just touch me.” You tilted your head to plant a tender kiss on the sharp angle of his jawline. His faint stubble grazed against your lips as you continued to pepper kisses, stopping just short of his mouth. “Forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest, they say.”
Toji tightly shut his eyes and took slow breaths through his nose, his inner turmoil evident in the way his head moved back and forth. Your lips traced gentle paths around his face, savoring the closeness and the rush of emotions it brought. Even if he rejected you, you would find solace in knowing you had expressed your love for the man who was once your stepfather. This night might mark the end of your time together, but it also freed you from the burden of hiding your feelings.. 
“Baby,” Toji whispered, gently caressing your cheek as he drew you closer. “You sure you want this?” 
“Yes.” 
“You know how risky this is, kid. We can’t just ignore the consequences.” 
“I know, Toji.” You leaned closer, your breath mingling with his. “But I can’t ignore how I feel about you either. I want this. I want you. I want all of you. You can do whatever you want to me. I promise I can take it.” 
Toji licked his lips and ran his fingers through his hair. “Fuck. Okay. Your mom—”
“She won’t know. I’m planning on moving out soon.” You dragged your hand up and down his soft, bare chest. “I should’ve moved out with you.” 
Toji took your hand in his and pressed a tender kiss to the center of your palm. “I don’t think I have any condoms on me.” 
“I’m on the pill.” 
His eyes narrowed on you. “You’ve been fucking around? Does your mom know?” 
“Hey, I had to have a little fun. Gain a little experience for this inevitable night.” Your infectious smile rubbed off on him and he enveloped you in his arms. 
“I fuck hard.” 
“Good.” 
“Last chance.” 
“Nope.” 
Toji rose on his feet, supporting your bottom with his hands as he took you to his bedroom. He laid you down on his bed, the soft mattress absorbing the weight with a slight bounce. “Fucking knew you had a little crush on me.” He clambered onto your body and held your jaw with his hand. “Tell me, sweetheart, did you touch yourself thinking of me?” 
“Every single night. Whether it’s in the shower or my bedroom,” you replied, feigning a pout and raising your hand. “I’m starting to think I’ve developed carpal tunnel from all of it.”
Toji laughed, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face with his calloused fingers. But as his laughter faded into a knowing smirk, his next words sent a jolt through you, leaving your legs weak and your heart racing. “Yeah. Me, too.” 
“Really?” 
He answered by colliding his lips against yours. It was a brutal kiss. Pain and pleasure mingled together in a heated embrace. His tongue shoved deep into your mouth, exploring the source of your daring words. 
Pulling away momentarily, he squeezed your cheeks and sucked on your tongue like it was a delicious treat. “Gonna spit in your mouth.” 
“Mm-hmm.” 
Toji’s cheeks sucked in as he gathered his spit and spat it right onto your tongue. “Swallow.” 
You did, moaning as his warm saliva traveled down your throat. “You taste minty.”
“I was just about to crash before your demanding ass showed up,” he teased.
“Well, you should thank me then.” You planted a quick kiss on his nose.
Toji leaned in and kissed you deeply, tugging on your bottom lip and trailing his moist lips down to your neck. “You smell so good, baby.” 
“I’m wearing the perfume you bought me.” 
“You better fucking be. Do you know how much I get off on spoiling you?” His teeth bit your delicate flesh and pulled, making you whimper from the stinging pain. He sucked and bit on different areas of your neck, marking you with his love bites. He then helped you out of the dress and pressed you back on the mattress. “Knew you weren’t wearing a bra.” 
“No,” you said sarcastically. 
“Yeah,” he said, missing the teasing in your voice, “your nipples were in my face when we were talking.” He rounded his tongue around your areola. Gathering your breasts in both hands, Toji switched between suckling at your nipples, biting the sensitive bud that sent jerks in your body, and licking the burning pain. “I saw you undressing once. You know that?” 
You lifted a brow. “Uh, when?” And why didn't he do anything about it?
“You left your bedroom a bit open. I came to call you for dinner and instead feasted on the sight of your perky ass and these sexy tits.” He left your nipples numb and discolored from his teeth’s abuse. “You think you’re the only one who got off in that house? No, baby. Not at all. I was in the room right next to you, jerking off to your voice, or your smell.” This time, he kissed you gently and then each of your shoulders. “I had it worse. I had it so much worse.” 
“Toji . . . ”
“But you’re here now, and so am I. I’m not fucking leaving. You got that? You’re mine. You’ve always been mine.” 
“Yours,” you whispered. “God, Toji, I’m yours. I’m yours.” 
Toji removed his sweatpants and boxers, giving you a glorious display of his long, thick cock, corded with veins, sprouted up and proud. You had him like that, and so you gave yourself a mental pat on the back. “Like what you see?” 
“Yes,” you said, chuckling in disbelief at the anatomy of him. A surge of confidence washed over you. You slipped off your panties and spread out your legs, shaking your hair back from your face. “Like what you see?” 
Toji gleamed at the wetness pooled between your legs, soaking his sheets underneath, sticky and hot. Something feral rattled inside him. He gripped your knees and pried them farther apart, sinking in between. 
“Oh, fuck, fuck! Toji—ah!” Your back arched in ecstasy, fingers gripping his scalp as he ruthlessly ate you out. His large palm held your hips in place, nibbling and sucking at your quivering, swollen clit. “Toji, yes, yes, fuck. Right there. Fuck, fuck, fuck!” 
You grinded against him with full power, pushing your pussy closer to his mouth. He drank your leaking juices, drove his skilled tongue into your tight entrance, and discovered the sweet, cry-worthy spots inside you.
Soon, he replaced his tongue with three fingers, plunging them deep inside you with a rough and unrelenting pace that sent shivers down your spine. His deep growls were the icing on top. 
Tears streamed down your cheeks as the bed creaked beneath you. He was exorcising your damn soul out of your body with his holy tongue and his blessed fingers.
“Ah!” You came down like a fucking waterfall and Toji stood with an open mouth, drinking in your essence, lapping at your cunt like a starved dog, cleaning you as best as he could. 
You gasped for air, clutching your chest as you coughed or laughed or wheezed—hard to tell which. You felt weightless, incredibly sore, teetering on the edge of passing out.
“Toji . . . am I dead?”
His laughter echoed nearby, then drew nearer until his face came into focus through your haze. “Your pussy tastes just as delicious as your mouth, baby.” 
He kissed you and gave you a hint of your release. Toji was a moaner—a loud one—as he sucked on your tongue, pulling it into his mouth. Your eyes rolled to the back of your skull as he spit onto your tongue again, and ran his own coarse one over your palette.
You closed your mouth and pushed him back by his shoulders. “Let me touch you.” 
“Yeah? You want to suck me off, too?” 
“Yes, fuck. Please, Toji. Please let me suck your cock.” Your begging made him grunt as he got up on his knees. He moved closer, placing them firmly beside your hips. You sat up against the headboard, gripping his warm, aroused cock, while he entwined your hair around his hand, gaining control over your movements.
You looked up at his smirk and kissed his moist tip, savoring the salty taste. Goosebumps formed on your skin at the idea of taking him deeper into your mouth. It would definitely challenge your gag reflex, but if this was going to be a regular thing, you needed to practice.
“Part your lips for me, kid. Nice and wide. That’s it.”
“Yes, Daddy.” You winked at Toji’s alarmed expression. Oh, how you loved catching him off-guard by acting out of character. “You got a daddy kink, Toji?” You brushed your lips from the base to the head, swirling your tongue around the rim. “Since you love calling me kid, maybe I should start calling you daddy. Isn’t that what you were?” 
“You got a dirty mouth on you, kid.” 
“Learned it from my daddy.”  
Toji hissed through his teeth as you nibbled his tip. “Not dirty enough.” He gripped his length and forced it past your lips. Your nails plunged into his hips, gagging and shaking as he sunk past your uvula. “About time I fucked your smartass mouth with my cock, baby. Be a good girl and don’t tap out until I’ve come down your throat.” 
You closed your eyes briefly, gathering your resolve before meeting his gaze again with a playful glint. You weren’t entirely sure where this was going, but you were determined not to back down now. So, with a mischievous wink, you silently accepted the challenge.
Toji thrusted his hips back and forth, shoving his girth in and out without giving you space to breathe.
“That’s it, baby. That’s it. Fuck, you’re so good at sucking your daddy’s cock,” he groaned, his hands gently gripping your hair or caressing your cheek in a way that contrasted sharply with his dominant actions.
“My pretty whore.”
Thrust.
“My gorgeous girl.” 
Thrust.
“You belong to me, baby.” 
Thrust, thrust, thrust. 
He was a complete monster with you. 
Your face pressed against his pelvis, the brush of his happy trail tickling your nose. You knew from experience that most men came quicker if you fondled their balls. You squeezed his heavy, swollen sacs, making him hiss and violate your throat.
Toji couldn’t hold back. His release came with a roar, numbing your scalp from how tightly he was pulling on it. The thin ropes of his release and your saliva formed as he pulled out. You swallowed whatever was left around your mouth. To please him further, as if assaulting your throat wasn’t enough, you lapped at his tip like a devoted kitten. “You’re so good to me, baby.” 
That’s all you wanted to hear. 
“Turn around,” he commanded, and without hesitation, you dropped to your knees, arching your back to present yourself to him. “What a sight.” His hand glided over your left ass cheek tenderly before delivering a firm smack that made you jolt forward. Toji mirrored the action on your right cheek, preparing you while coating the tip of his cock with slickness from your own arousal. “Gonna put it in now, sweetheart.” 
“Finally, Jesus.” 
Toji spanked your ass which only elicited a giggle out of you. “Let’s see if you’ll be laughing soon, baby.” 
He pushed into you in one-quick go. 
You cried out and grabbed the top of the headboard with your sweaty palms. He pulled out just to the hilt then drove back in. The air smelled like your sweat and perfume and sex. Every nerve in your body was alive, your heart pounding fiercely as if trying to escape your chest. Your face flushed with heat, your blood singing with desire.
You moaned and cried and screamed his name, driving him to complete madness with the word “Daddy.” You begged him to go faster, push harder, to have you sore for weeks so you didn’t have to get out of his bed, out of his arms, out of his home. You wanted this to be your home. 
Toji spanked your ass repeatedly, skin slapping against skin, palming the back of your head so that your face was crushed on his pillow. It smelled like firewood. Smelled like him. You wanted to steal it, take it home, sleep with it, ride it while whispering his name. 
You both came together. 
Toji’s hot seed filled your stretched hole. He withdrew slowly, a teasing sensation that left you craving more. With deft fingers, he ensured not a drop was wasted. 
You collapsed onto your stomach, catching your breath before summoning the strength to turn and face him.
He exhaled heavily, laying beside you “Fuck, that was . . .” 
“Yeah.” 
“Oh, yeah.” 
“Best yeah.” You draped yourself onto his chest and kissed his chin. He massaged his fingers through your throbbing scalp, the other hand caressing your numb, bruised ass. 
Toji twirled a strand of your hair around his finger. “Does this make-up for missing your graduation?” 
You flicked his forehead. “I haven’t forgiven you for that.” 
“Maybe I should miss more of your events if this is the reward I’m gonna get.” 
You scowled. “I dare you to repeat that again.” 
Toji ironed out your scowl with his thumb. You kissed the pad of his rough finger, twice. “My cards are on the table for you, sweetheart.” 
Your lips met his, whispering, “I folded a while ago, Daddy.” 
“Fuck,” he breathed out. With a swift motion, he flipped you onto your back, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. “Round two, kid.” 
1K notes · View notes
enha-stars · 1 month
Text
✧ how he loves you
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pairing: soft!sunghoon x reader (fluff)
summary: sunghoon never really believed in love until he was in it, and now that he was, it was everything.
a/n: thank you for 400 followers! this was inspired by something i wrote on my other blog for sakusa kiyoomi (don't ask)
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love was powerful; it was strong and capable of change, and sunghoon learned that with you. he firmly believed that love could change someone. 
because it changed him. 
sunghoon never considered love, not really. he liked himself enough but he had never truly loved himself. his entire life, people had told him how talented he was and how handsome he was, but he never truly accepted any of the claims. 
despite his own turmoil, sunghoon loved you. god, he loved you. he loved you more than life; more than the tide loved the moon, more than the plants loved the sun. he loved you more than he ever thought possible. 
and you loved him. god, did you love him. you loved him so much that he had no choice but to love himself just as much. or at least, he tried to. 
he had always hated his fangs; his pointy canine teeth that always made his smile look abnormal. but when you poked them, smiling when they made an appearance, mumbling about how adorable and boyish he looked, sunghoon had no choice but to start loving them. 
he had hated his beauty marks; hated how they were scattered across his face in an organized manner. but when you first kissed them, telling him that “they’re beautiful, hoonie. just as you are” he no longer wanted to scratch them off. all he yearned for now was the days that you sat on his lap and pressed small kisses to the marks on his cheek and nose while playing with his fingers. 
sunghoon was absolutely, hopelessly, completely, passionately, insanely, and desperately in love with you. 
and anyone who had the chance to look at both of you together, would know. 
perhaps the most surprising day of his members’ lives was when they stumbled upon the soft moments between you and sunghoon and had the opportunity to see the way he truly loved you; feverishly and fondly. 
one evening, heeseung had come to practice half and hour early and when he stepped into the practice room, his eyes landed on you and sunghoon in the middle of the barely lit room. you spoke animatedly about something. he watched curiously as sunghoon gently twirled you in circles, smiling when you broke into giggles mid sentence. heeseung’s jaw fell to the floor when you began to twirl sunghoon, trying your best as you stood on your toes and he could only laugh. 
jay had witnessed sunghoon’s love for you when he found him in the dorm’s kitchen, trying to cook you a full course meal because you had a bad day. jay could only stand there with wide eyes as three videos played simultaneously, guiding sunghoon on a single recipe. he watched carefully as sunghoon danced around the kitchen, smiling when his friend added the wrong ingredients with confidence. 
jake had seen sunghoon’s love for you when sunghoon had come into practice with his hair braided, not a single care as the rest of the members stared at him. sunghoon was very possessive about his hair; it being one of the only things he liked best about himself. and to have you braid it–touch it–jake was amazed. even he couldn’t touch sunghoon’s hair without a slap to the hand. 
the younger members had witnessed sunghoon’s overwhelming love for you after a concert, when he jumped off stage and you ran to him, jumping into his arms. jungwon’s mouth was already agape at the sight of someone touching sunghoon in public. riki and sunoo’s eyes widened when sunghoon pressed a kiss to your lips. it was quick, but visible. he was just so happy, and he didn’t mind the audience.
sunghoon loved you in the most selfless way possible; by unconsciously loving himself. 
he loved you by coming to terms with himself, realizing that he had so much to offer when you were perfectly happy with who he was, with what he gave you. 
park sunghoon loved you with his whole heart, and then some. 
laying next to you now, sunghoon had never felt more loved. with your head resting in the crook of his neck and your hand on top of his heart as you pressed soft kisses to his jaw, sunghoon was absolutely sure that you loved him the way he loved you. 
your love had changed sunghoon, and in return, he loved you with everything he had. 
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a/n: @pprodsuga for you <3
517 notes · View notes
munariplans · 4 months
Note
hi there! hope ur doing well. i love ur writing and have been wondering if you could do a story about reader disappearing on the teams day off. natasha who has a crush on reader notices and spys on reader to see if she’s meeting up with someone. instead it’s just reader being a good person and helping people along the way. making natasha fall in love with her even more.
days off | natasha romanoff
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synopsis: based on the request above! thank you anon for your submission :)
natasha romanoff x reader
word count: 3.3k words
a/n: requests and asks are always open
masterlist
“what are you doing?” natasha asked you shyly, her figure leaning against the frame of the kitchen entrance. she watched your hands skilfully kneading the dough on the counter over and over again, folded into a neat rectangle before being flattened and folded again in the next moment. behind you, pans were sizzling with the mouth-watering fragrance of scrambled eggs being cooked on the stove, and the oven let out a ding right as she stepped closer, telling you that it was preheated and ready. 
you let the dough rest, before putting a pre-prepared one in the oven and finally turning to her. “making breakfast,” you said, matter-of-factly, “for the team.”
“but it’s our off-day,” she replied, “and we have chefs in the compound.”
you smiled. “well, i just thought it would be nice to have something homemade, for once. my mother taught me how to cook, and i figured i’d spend the morning of the day-off in the kitchen, where i’ll be busy, and…the thoughts wouldn’t be so loud.”
natasha folded her arms over herself as you came closer. you noticed she had just come back from the gym. she probably hadn’t had anything to eat. 
carefully slicing the freshly baked bread into halves, you took a pair out of the perfect symmetry and placed them on the plate, before ladling a helping of the scrambled eggs, taking a few pieces of bacon out of the other pan, and placing a piece of hash brown right on top, before covering it with the other half of the bread. she watched you work, methodically, seamlessly. you looked like you had been doing it for years. 
then, you wrapped the sandwich quickly, and wrote her initials, N.R. with a smiley on top of the wrapper, before handing it to her. she was taken aback, and slightly red when she looked at the sandwich being offered to her. 
“i-it’s…” she stuttered, heart beating quickly when she realised she hadn’t exactly taken the sandwich, but hadn’t rejected your offer, either. 
“i want you to be my first taster. if it’s good, i’ll call the team down to have it as well. and if it’s bad…” you shrugged, half-laughing in anticipation as natasha finally took it, taking a small bite in front of you.
she took a moment to chew, face in contemplation, as if she were assessing a fine dining establishment before you. you began taking off your apron, deciding to let the chefs help you take over for the serving of the food later on, and started packing your things. 
just before you left, however, you noticed natasha fully into the entryway of the kitchen again, sandwich half-eaten.
“it’s okay,” she said nonchalantly, wiping a little bit off the ends of her lips. “it’s edible.”
you nodded, hiding a smile. “okay means good. i’ll tell the team to come down, then.”
natasha shrugged this time, as if saying if that’s what you want. when you left to shower, however, she smiled quietly to herself, and after making sure that no one was around, did a little happy dance from one of the most delicious sandwiches she had ever eaten. it was more than okay, it was the best breakfast she had ever had. she only wished she had the courage to tell you so. 
the redhead then tore the part of your handwriting of her initials off the wrapper, and kept it in her pocket for the rest of the day.
natasha never really knew what to do on her day-offs. it felt weird, to be sitting around doing nothing. she could do her remaining paperwork, but she knew if tony caught her, he would ban her from working on it at all for a week, leaving her even more bored and restless. 
she could sleep in, or explore new york for the day, but she wasn’t fully confident that her russian accent wouldn’t throw the average new yorker off yet. it also didn’t help that ever since her joining the avengers, there was always someone around the block who recognised who she was, who let their eyes rake over her figure for far too long, who made her feel uncomfortable when they got too close to ask for a picture. the others never seemed to mind, but she did. 
she noticed you always seemed to step in when it got too much; telling the fans that enough was enough, or simply holding her waist and slowly whisking her away from their prying eyes and grubby hands. she threw her head back onto her pillow at the thought of your hands on her waist again. natasha seriously needed to stop thinking about you, and her festering crush, whenever she had the opportunity. she needed to busy herself. 
but when you appeared in the commons right as she stepped out of her room to ask what you planned to do on your day-off, you were in your coat and scarf, prepared to head out. the rest of the team was still lazily lounging around the area, in a dazed state from the aftermath of your coma-inducing breakfast. 
“where are you going?” she asked, not wanting to pry too much, but still allowing herself to feed her own curiosity. 
she hated that you always replied with a tone that seemed like it was painfully obvious what you were doing. “out.”
“i know, but–”
“hey romanoff, are you still coming for the basketball game later? steve needs to book the seats.” tony called out to her before she could finish the sentence. he asked you too, but you reaffirmed with him that you weren’t coming. 
you shifted your scarf slightly, turning your attention back to her. “you ever been to a basketball game before? you’ll like it. the warriors are something else.”
natasha shook her head. you knew she had never been. but it didn’t mean that she wanted to go, not without you around. but she also didn’t have the courage to ask if she could tag along to wherever you were going. she knew her limits.
you didn’t seem to take the hint of her wanting to come along, despite her readily asking if you were going to meet someone, or if you were just going out alone, and if you had plans for after. you simply waved her goodbye, and told her to enjoy the game with the team. 
she sighed in irritation when you left, much to the amusement of clint behind her. “does she have a girlfriend or something? is that what she’s using her day-offs for?”
if clint wasn’t already hiding his grin, his friend’s newfound annoyance at your departure definitely made him let out a chuckle. “not that i know of.”
natasha didn’t have much to do that day, and it wasn’t like she was particularly looking forward to the game either, so she decided to spend her day-off the only way she knew how, using her spying skills and finding out what you were doing with yours.
in retrospect, natasha knew that you probably wouldn’t have liked being stalked, or followed around without her telling you why, or even simply her not taking the initiative to just ask, when you would have told her willingly of what you spent your breaks on.
she followed you into the university uptown, where natasha knew you guest-lectured in between longer breaks from missions. she just never expected you to come in on your days-off as well. 
you tapped your card in to the science department of the school, while natasha snuck past the security guard after causing a well-crafted distraction. when you entered the lockers to change into your lab coat, natasha waited patiently outside like a schoolgirl hiding from their crush. she supposed she wasn’t so different from one then.
it was only when you walked down the halls into a room guarded by a facial recognition scan, that natasha finally got to know that she a) wasn’t being so discreet after all, or b) you were a better agent than you let on to her. she should have known that you didn’t get promoted through the ranks so fast, so young, without reasons. 
the machine scanned your face, and as the door unlocked, you stood there for a moment, holding it wide open, before leaning your head to the side, one eye locked with hers. 
“do you want to come in and see as well, or do you plan on just waiting for me until i finish?”
if clint had seen the embarrassment on her face, along with the walk of shame she had to put on to enter the room with you, he would have certainly made her the laughing stock of the compound for the day. 
you drew up a chair for natasha as you went to your usual work station, a little early for your patient. in the few minutes that the two of you were alone, you hadn’t engaged her at all, simply directing her to sit and watch, while you prepared your materials and waited for your lab assistant. natasha was a little unnerved, and in awe at your professionalism, at the same time. 
you clicked your tongue in slight annoyance as your assistant came in five minutes late, reminding him, almost naggingly, that you only had one day-off per week, and it was precious time that he was wasting for the both of you. he apologised, and got to work helping you set up what looked like a robotic prosthetic leg, on your station. 
the lab was pristine; white-tiled walls and floors scrubbed clean with a very strong stench of antiseptic ensuring to even the most sceptic of minds that you knew what you were doing, and that the lab was clean; if the multiple diagrams of your inventions on the walls and the prototypes lining the shelves around her were not enough proof. you had never told her you had a lab.
a few minutes later, two knocks on the door were heard, and your assistant rushed over to open the door for a man no younger than seventy, hobbling in with great difficulty as he tried to offer help with his support, only to be rejected with a wave of his hand and an upbeat smile. he was an amputee. 
oh. this was what your days-off were for. 
“hello, mr. miller. you look cheerful today.” you got up from your seat to shake his hand. he took your support this time, leading himself to the plush armchair placed across your station. 
he laughed, rough and loud. “david, how many times have i come in here and asked you to call me?”
you smiled sheepishly. “sorry, david. let me help you with this.”
he winced as you kneeled down beside him, outstretching his prosthetic leg and inspecting it. your assistant took notes as you made observations of the various deficiencies and defects it suffered through david’s use of it for the past six months. natasha watched as your hands, the ones that would hold her at night when she cried, the ones that punched the faces of enemies trying to get to her, the very same hands that made her breakfast that morning, ran over the intricate details and bolts and nuts of the prosthetic leg she learned you made just for david, knowing what was wrong just by the feel and touch of them. she adored those hands so much. 
then, you helped him take off the prosthetic, instructing your assistant to hold his hand in encouragement as he winced at the removal. “there we go. wasn’t so bad this time, right? and the leg did hold up quite well, for six months.”
“well, you do maintenance to it every week,” david patted your back, “hard to fuck it up so bad when you fix it up every time i try to, right?”
you laughed, and natasha stopped herself from smiling. at your signal, the assistant brought forth the limb that you both had been working on to replace david’s old one for the past year, shiny and new. the man positively gleamed at the sight of it. 
“ready for a bit of a change, though, mr. miller?”
“now, that is a beauty,” he said as his eyes latched on, before they inevitably noticed natasha sat at the corner of where the limb was, and she swore he held recognition for her instantly. 
you followed his gaze, before his met yours, and the playful smirk he let out was all that you needed to know that he knew. “is that your…”
“...friend, natasha,” you replied him quickly, eyes slightly panicked and subtly, not so subtly, shaking your head to ask him to stop before he let out your little secret. 
“is she the one–”
“–yes, david. she’s the one.” 
he finally caught the hint, and chuckled to himself as he waved hi to her. she waved back, no doubt in confusion of the connection between him and her. she made a mental note to ask you about it later. 
when the new leg was fitted on him, david was practically almost jumping for joy at the new flexibility and strength it gave him. his laughter was infectious, as natasha quickly learned, when it caught up to her after it caught you and the assistant, as well. 
“look at the reflexes! and fluidity of this thing!” no longer was he hobbling and exerting his entire strength on the one leg, it was almost as if the leg was natural and part of him itself, as david brought you in for a hug enthusiastically. 
you hugged him back, still grinning. “amazing right, what science can do for you. soon, the future of prosthetics is going to change, and we can make so many more lives better in our community.”
“you two are amazing, simply amazing!” david exclaimed, even as he finally accepted the assistant’s help in testing out the other features of the prosthetic. 
natasha stayed until the end of the day for you, when david’s tests were complete and he was all but ready to leave. 
“and to what i owe you this time, again?” he asked. you knew he didn’t have much, it was the sole reason you took him on for the project; but the fact that he remained so grateful, always offering payment, even when you had repeatedly rejected him, always touched you. 
“for you to come back next week, as always. and to thank mr. parker here for all his efforts. i couldn’t have done all this without him.” 
your assistant looked like he was going to cry at the recognition and hug david gave him. “doing a good job, kid.”
you held the door open for david then, and he stole one last glance at natasha before he left. “you know, your girlfriend here really is a genius, ms. black widow. the best of her–”
“–thank you, david!” you cut in, visibly more in a panic this time, as you held his hand and ushered him out, “just a friend, a friend!”
“what?” he didn’t seem keen to leave, “i’m just helping the two of you speed things along. god knows she wouldn’t have stayed here in this boring lab all day, running tests on an old war veteran running his mouth, if she wasn’t smitten with you too!”
natasha’s cheeks instantly reddened, as you sighed in embarrassment. so maybe her feelings were reciprocated, for a while now. 
with the assistant chuckling in the background, you shut the door ushering david out, whispering frustratedly that he was leaking all of your secrets about natasha. “david! i told you and peter about her in confidence!”
“i know, but you didn’t tell me she was head over heels for you too.”
“because she’s not!” you whisper-yelled, “she came just to see what i was doing, and…and…”
and…oh. 
david’s look made sense now. it all made sense now. her shyness around you, the way she always wanted you around, always wanted to know what you were doing, the reasons for her coming all this way to accompany you on your day-off. 
you had thought she wouldn’t be interested, and would leave after seeing what your activities just were, but you hadn’t expected her to stay. and you hadn’t expected to feel her gaze on you throughout. 
“when you know, you know.” he assured, patting you on the back again as he walked off, “trust me, kid. and she’s a good one, you picked a good one.”
your assistant had retreated to his corner of the lab when you came back in, while natasha stretched her joints and got ready to leave too. it was dark by then, and you felt guilty for making her stay past dinner. you excused your assistant to leave quickly, before finally turning to her. 
“sorry.”
“for what?” she yawned. 
“for trapping you here with me on your day-off. i feel guilty now.”
she rolled her eyes, before jabbing you slightly. “idiot. i stayed because i wanted to stay. and you didn’t force me here, in fact, i was the one who followed you, remember?”
“yeah, you do need to make sure that the person you’re stalking isn’t a super spy like you before you do that, though.”
at the blush on her cheeks and feigned hurt on her face, you quickly decided to change the subject. “what david said earlier…ignore him. he’s old, a little senile. really doesn’t know what he’s saying.”
“really?” natasha frowned, “that’s a shame.”
you nodded, biting your lip as you leaned back against the counter of your station. she continued, “i really wanted what he said to be true.”
you blinked in surprise, unable to hide the shock on your face. it was your turn to be nervous around natasha now. it was always the other way around. perhaps the knowledge of knowing your feelings were mutual beckoned you to retreat to a shy disposition you never showed anyone else. 
natasha shrugged. “damn, i really thought i had a chance with the most wonderful, kind-hearted person i know, who would spend her days off, even, to help people. who i thought was hiding to meet a secret girlfriend or something.”
a smile began to creep its way onto your face. “n-no, no secret girlfriend.”
“shame. i bet that secret girlfriend would be so in awe, falling even more for this person, when she finds out what she does for the people around her. a superhero saving the lives of many as an avenger, and a scientist changing the lives of even more as a civilian.”
“mm,” you took off your lab coat then, coming closer to her. she had a playful glint in her eyes as she put one hand on your chest, preventing you from getting too close. “tell me more praises of what this secret girlfriend would feel about me.”
“this secret girlfriend also does not appreciate when you keep such lovely secrets from her,” she felt your arms on the counter behind her now, entrapping her body with yours, “and when you try to do anything without taking her to dinner first. she’s starving, you know.”
the chuckle that left your lips made natasha only want to kiss you even more. “what do you say i make this secret girlfriend not-so-secret now, and invite her out to dinner with me? her favourite italian down the street from here, my treat.”
in response, the woman before you finally let go of the hand on your chest, and brought her hands to your collar to pull you in, leaving a searing kiss on your lips that left you lightheaded and longing for more, at the same time. 
she held your hand as the both of you walked out of the university, before declaring something she had to say before she forgot, “tell david he should expect to see me around the lab every week from now on too, then.” 
“yes ma’am.”
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vioartemis · 10 months
Text
All I ever wanted
(g!p Sam Carpenter x fem! reader)
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Summary: Sam and you had gotten into an argument, you decide to be petty and go to a party you know she told you not to go to... Warnings: (+18), smut, g!p Sam, unprotected sex, (let me know if I forgot something) Request is here :)) a/n: I uh never wrote g!p before so it might be really bad 💀 (English isn't my first language, I'm sorry if there are mistakes or if something doesn't make sense TvT)
A few hours ago, your girlfriend and you had a fight about one of her colleagues. Maybe you were a little jealous of Sam's coworker, and of the attention your girlfriend had been giving her lately.
You were more than a little jealous, actually. You couldn't help it.
Even though Sam had told you she didn't give a damn about the girl, your insecurities couldn't stop telling you that maybe the girl likes your girlfriend in more than a just-coworkers way. I mean who wouldn't?
You had spent the last hours on the couch while Sam went to see her therapist. You were upset, even if it wasn't totally her fault. But still. She was giving this random girl more attention than she was giving you.
And that pissed you off.
"Hey, where are you going?" you ask Tara, seeing her exiting her room in a pirate costume
"I uh... I'm going to a party"
"What party? The OKB party Sam forbid us to go to?"
Tara rolled her eyes.
"Don't start to act like her Y/n, please. I'm an adult, I can-"
"I wasn't going to prevent you from going. Actually..." you stand up and stretch "Do you mind waiting for me so I can put on a costume?"
She looked at you with wide eyes. Until then, you were always on Sam's side.
"Uh, sure..."
She's still a little shocked by your behavior when you come back five minutes later, dressed in a homemade cowgirl costume; white shirt, opened to reveal your black bra, and denim shorts that covered only what had to be covered.
"You're going to the party... like that? Don't you think it's a little... you know..."
That's the moment Quinn chose to enter the living room. She whistled at the sight of you.
"I didn't think you were the kind of person to wear that, Y/n..." the redhead said "Were are you going?"
"OKB party" you replied, buttoning your shirt up
"The one Sam told you not to go to?"
"Yeah"
"She's gonna be sooo mad..."
You didn't reply, tying your vest around your waist to cover you bottom half while you're not at the party.
"See you later Quinn" you simply said, putting your hat on your head before grabbing your keys and opening the door.
The party was great, everyone was having fun. You had left you vest to Anika and Mindy, who were sitting on a couch, and went dancing with Tara.
After a while you excused yourself and went in the kitchen to grab something to drink.
"Hey there beautiful" a voice said behind you, as a hand was placed on your shoulder
You turned around, and faced the guy, raising an eyebrow as you tried to figure out whether you knew him or not.
"What a pretty girl like you is doing here all alone, hm?"
"Just looking for something to drink" you said
"Here. I'm Frankie by the way"
The guy handed you a half full bottle, which you grabbed and poured yourself a glass.
"Thanks, Frankie"
You handed him the bottle and left the kitchen as soon as he grabbed it.
"Wait!" he said, making you roll your eyes "Why don't we stay together a little, hm? We could have fun..."
"I'm gonna have to pass"
"C'mon, don't be such a prude...!" he mumbled, grabbing your wrist and pulling you closer to him
"I'm not being a prude, I'm not interested. I have a girlfriend and love her very much. Let go of me now."
"I'm not implying any love, just a kiss. C'mon..."
He tried to kiss you, but a sudden punch in the face made him stumble away. Too busy trying to get rid of him, you hadn't noticed Sam.
She was mad. At you probably, but mostly at Frankie for now. He seemed to have had enough with that punch, and almost ran away with a bloody nose.
"What were you thinking?" Sam asked, turning to you "I told you not go to that party! It was not for you to go dressed like... that!"
"I don't need your permission, Sam! I'm not a child, I do what I want."
She didn't answer and just threw her sweater to you.
"Cover yourself up, we'll talk about that when we get home."
You were only now noticing the crowd that formed around you. The amount of pair of eyes looking at you made you a little self-conscious, and you quickly put Sam's sweater on. It was way too big for you.
As soon as you have her sweater on, you girlfriend grabbed your wrist and pulled out with her, outside of the house, where Tara and the others were already waiting.
"Sam-" Tara started
"We're going to talk about that at home." her sister answered, walking past her, still dragging you behind her
The rest of the group was forced to follow without questions, not wanting to get yelled at. But not you. You were in a kinda petty move tonight it appeared.
You had walked a few meters when you released your wrist from her grip. Immediately, she turned to face you.
"Stop trying to control us, Sam. You have to let us live our lives!" you said
"I'm not trying to control you, I just want to protect you, Y/n"
"Protect me from what? Sam, you can't live in the past like that, you need to move on!"
There's a silence between the two of you, soon broken by some random girl.
"Hey!" she said to Sam
Your girlfriend turned around, only for the girl to throw her soda on her.
"Murderer!" the girl continued
Chad and Tara pulled her back before she could push the girl away, but no one tried to hold you back. You took the opportunity to grab the girl's collar and punched her in the face.
You raised your arm to strike again, but you felt an arm wrapping around your waist, holding you back. Sam. You tried to break free, but she was too strong. The only thing you could do was glare at the other girl, who was running away.
Sam released you after the girl was out of sight, and took a look at your hand, worried you might have hurt yourself.
"... Thank you for defending me..." she said, her eyes not leaving your bruised hand "I thought..."
You shake your head, squeezing her hand gently.
"Just because we had a fight doesn't mean I'm gonna let anyone talk to you like that..."
Sam looked up, her dark eyes meeting yours.
"I'm... I'm sorry for this morning... I shouldn't have said all that..." you apologized "It's just..." you sighed "I was scared... I am scared you will lose interest and find someone better than me..."
Her expression softened at your words. She let go of your hand and cupped your cheeks, tilting your head up and pressing her lips on yours in a tender kiss.
"I will not lose interest in you, Y/n. You're all I ever wanted. I don't want anyone else"
You gave her a little smile before wrapping your arms around her and hugged her tight, whispering a 'thank you'. She hugged you back happily, caressing your hair.
"Let's go home, hm?"
You nodded, making the hug last a bit longer before letting go of her. She took your hand, giving you a warm smile, and you started to make your way home.
Once you reached the apartment, Sam and you went to your shared bedroom. As soon as you got in, she pressed another soft kiss on your lips.
"You know... I found it kinda hot when you punched that girl" she chuckled
"Well, if I'm being completely honest with you... I found it kinda hot too when you punched that guy" you replied with a smile
"You know what else I found hot tonight?" Sam asked, taking off 'your' hoodie "You in that costume"
She looked you up and down, biting her bottom lip as her eyes stopped on your bra, before going back up to your lips, against which she pressed her own in a passionate kiss.
Her hands are in your short's back pockets, grabbing your ass and pulling you close as her lips dip down to suck marks on your neck.
Your fingers were soon tangled in her soft hair, your other hand gripping her arm slightly.
"Sam…" you let out in a breath
"Hm?" she hummed against your skin, her lips now on your collarbone.
"Tara’s here, she might hear us…"
"We’ll have to keep quiet them, hm?"
Her lips came back to yours as her hands left your back pockets to take off your shirt, and the rest of your clothes.
You helped her getting rip off her clothes as well, and can’t help the wave of arousal that flooded through you at the sight of her semi hard cock, precum already forming at her tip.
"See what you do to me?" Sam said with a smirk, her hand trailing down to your pussy "My, my… seems like you’re ready for me already" her smirk grew wider "Now be a good girl and get on your hands and knees for me"
You complied, getting on all fours on the bed, exposing your already wet cunt to her. She positioned herself behind you, hands on your ass, caressing it gently as she looked at your center.
"Why are you only obedient when I'm about to fuck you, hm?"
"What...?"
"I told you not to go to this party, didn't I? And what did you do?"
Not so happy with your lack of answer, her fingers wrapped around your throat and she pulled you flush against her.
"What did you do?"
"I went to the party..." you said in a breath, trying to concentrate on something else than her front pressed against your back.
You could feel every curve of hers, from her hard nipples to her thick cock, passing by her well defined abs.
"That's right" she released your throat, causing you to fall back down on the bed "I think a punishment is needed. But as you already apologized... 6 should be enough to remind you not to disobey me"
A gasp left your throat as her hand landed on your right ass cheek. She leaned in, whispering right next to your ear.
"Remember, you have to keep quiet, or Tara might hear us..."
Not wanting to get caught in that position, you buried your face in the pillow just as Sam gave your ass another slap, harder than before. She waited a few second for the pain to disappear a bit and gave your ass a hard slap you were sure would leave a mark.
After she did the same on the other side, she rubbed your reddened skin softly to soothe the pain, planting a gentle kiss on the back of your neck.
"You did good, princess. Here comes your reward for being such a good girl..." she said gently, slipping her middle and ring fingers in your dripping cunt, eliciting a moan from you
She pumped her fingers in and out a few times before pulling them out and shoving them in her mouth. She loved the taste of you, always so sweet.
She positioned herself behind you again, lining herself up with you, before thrusting in slowly.
She started moving her hips slowly, almost teasingly. You tried to fuck her back, but she held you in place, gripping your hips tightly.
The slaps had gotten you so horny, you felt like you were already about to cum
She picked up her pace, bringing you closer to your release, and she could tel you were close, by the way your pussy tightened around her cock, and by how the pillow was having a hard time muffling the loud moans that escaped your throat.
But just as you were about to cum, she pulled out, causing you to let out a whine. She then flipped you over, so you were resting on your back.
"Why'd you stop...?"
"I want to see your pretty face when I make you cum"
Saying that, she thrusted back into you and began to move her hips at a steady pace, fucking you so good it didn't take more than a minute for you to release all over her cock with a loud moan, too lost in the pleasure to care about Tara hearing you anymore.
If you weren't so overwhelmed, you would have seen Sam biting her lip at the sight of you coming undone under her, and you would have felt her cock throbbing inside you as she fucked you through your orgasm.
As she continued to pound into you, she leaned in and wrapped her lips around your erect nipple, sucking on it, before flickering it with tongue. She had a wide grin on her face.
She leaned back again.
At this moment, all of her senses were occupied by you.
The sight of you, under her, skin glistening with sweat, back arched, head thrown back; the moans that slipped out of your mouth, the way you moaned her name, begging her to go faster, the sound of skin slapping; the smell of you all over her, everywhere in the room; the taste of you, still on her tongue from earlier; the way you felt around her, so tight, so warm, taking her in perfectly, almost as if you were meant to haver inside of you.
All of this drove her crazy. She wanted to make you feel so good the only thing you would remember would be her name. She wanted to make you hers. Because you were. hers. Hers to love, hers to kiss, hers to fuck. You were her soulmate; she was sure of that.
It's with that thought in mind that she came deep inside of you, filling you up with her warm seed. The feeling made you cum again, eyes rolling to the back of your head, moaning her name repeatedly like a mantra.
She pulled out after a few more lazy thrusts, watching as her cum drip from your hole onto the sheets with a wide grin. She laid beside you on the bed, wrapping her arms around your waist, pulling you close, and placed a soft kiss on your forehead.
"Is everything okay? Was I too harsh with the slaps...?"
"Not at all! It was perfect, Sam, really" you replied reassuringly, tilting your head up to kiss her on the lips "You're perfect. You're all I ever wanted, but better. Sometimes I feel like we're meant to be..." you confessed
"Really? I feel that too. Maybe... maybe we're soulmates"
"I didn't think you believed in soulmates...! But I'm glad you do. I hope we are. I hope we're soulmates. I-"
"You got cut off by Tara and Quinn's voices in the hall.
"And they say I'm loud..."
"Do you know how much it would cost to have the walls insulated?"
Sam chuckled as she heard the conversation, and you both blushed in embarrassment.
"I told you to keep quiet, baby..."
You rolled your eyes with a smile, and playfully smacked her arm.
You wished to have the chance to live more moments like this with her, laughing, smiling, crying even, as long as you were together.
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hwaitham · 2 months
Text
𝓪 𝔀𝓪𝓵𝓽𝔃 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓪 𝓼𝓾𝓷𝓭𝓪𝔂 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰 ⋆ ࣪˖ 𓂃𓋜
al haitham x f!reader . sfw — fluff . established relationship ノ how to spend a sunday morning in love . . ♡ note : this is a sweet little ficlet based on a dream i had dreamt two nights ago :3 i apologize for any errors here — i wrote this in one sitting with love absolutely inundating me (∩´͈ `͈∩ ྀི) this is moreso catharsis for me than anything else !
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it will never be more homely in al haitham's house than it is late on sunday mornings.
because it really doesn't get much cosier than this: the sumeru sun peeking through the open window to tip its hat and wish upon you a ‘good day!’, the bird-chime breeze whisking the sweet fragrance of ripened zaytun peaches past the curtains, the cuckoo clock announcing that it's prime time for elevenses.
“biscuits with your tea, haitham?”
“yes, thank you.”
what a delightfully dreamy sunday morning it is! today especially of all sundays past, where mottles of gold dust flit and float through the spiced air of his kitchen and you stand before him dressed in a sugar-icing pink frock.
he holds you in his eyes and a mug of chai in his left hand, fondling your fingers with his right, mindlessly thumbing over your ring finger.
al haitham searches for something that isn’t yet there.
and of course, you understand your lover without words. meet his gaze with a demure smile. quiet, fawn-eyed, clever. and you dare him to speak his mind with a pout of your lips, an enticing tilt of your head, a charming giggle that’s puffed out onto the junction of his neck before you give it a kiss— tugging at the roots of his heart in ways you know best, “whatcha thinking about?”
his lips twitch up into a curve at your feigned innocence because, oh, you know exactly what he’s thinking.
it's in this pas de deux that he finds such great joy, these games of push-and-pull that you play. he recognizes that perhaps he's weak to it— your whimsy and wonder, that you're still as coy as when first you met, and he melts underneath it as if he were cream on a cone.
you twirl twine round and round and round his soul to bind it to yours without even realizing.
“i'm sure you already know, habibti,” al haitham tells you: once spoken, once again with a playful tug of your ring finger, once more with the sealing kiss of an unspoken promise to your lips. the syrupy sweetness of his breath and his words are laid thickly on you, and your smile wavers the teensiest of bits as he sets his mug aside and encases your hand within his, raising it to his chest.
“still...”
your head begins to spin and your little heart begins to pound a little louder.
“won't you say it? please?”
so too does his.
there is a lot more vehemence in al haitham than you'd have guessed, and a great deal more than he has any idea of himself— for he's spitting the words out before you can even close your mouth.
but it is just such a tender sunday morning here in his kitchen and the sun is kissing your cheek and casting dancing shadows in the dip of your clavicle and your glass of iced tea is starting to tear up and you smell of harra fruit and white shores and green fields and everything pure in this world and good grief, he is just so in love with you.
“marry me.”
al haitham does not ask it of you nor does he command it of you— it is merely a breath (one that is slightly more wobbly than his pride would have foretold) of a burning desire that he wishes to will into existence.
“let me be your husband.” a delicate kiss is laid upon your ring finger. “let me make you my wife.” another to the one on your opposite hand. “let me make you the happiest girl alive.”
his words slice through your cake of a heart and bleeds it of its custard memories, tart lemony feelings that push a crinkle up your throat and behind your eyes. before he's given the chance to speak such uncharacteristically sweet words any longer, you throw yourself into his arms and steal from him a searing hug.
and it's not the colour of his hair that fascinates you (you do well to remind yourself that it is silver, not grey), nor the peculiar little way he's got about him. it's the form his eyes and lips take when he smiles at you, the shape his voice fills when he talks to you— how carefully, tenderly he crafts himself when it comes to you. it is all for you, entirely yours and only yours to see, to keep, to admire.
“i get to love you until the end of forever... lucky me.” your voice is a garbled mess of sniffles and hiccups but really, you can't help it.
love is inundating you and you can't help but weep in the middle of his kitchen on this fine sunday morning, where the sun blesses you with its light and the birds and chimes sing and the flowers on the sill dance for you and your eternal honeymoon love.
al haitham takes your face within the cradles of his palms, kissing your dewy cheeks and shushing your sobs and caressing you into a peaceful silence. “so… what say you?”
the giggles and squeals of children playing as they run past his house sound through the window and it makes you cling to him tighter, fists furling and unfurling in the linen of his sleep shirt.
how long have you stood, swathed in his sweet embrace like this? his chai is no longer steaming and an ache begins to wrap itself around your head from all the tears you've shed. though, you suppose it matters not— a moment is forever if it is spent in his arms.
“i'm sure you already know, haitham.”
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jaquemuses · 2 months
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i’m an angst comfort GIRL so if you would be interested in writing anything maybe about childhood friends enzo and reader where it’s right people wrong time for years ( definitely mutual feelings, maybe reader always thought enzo was too good for them so they never really thought they had a chance but is oblivious to the fact that enzo was head over HEELS for them but was worried about dragging them into the spotlight as he grew more famous) until they finally end up together i’d be thrilled!! ofc no matter what thank you so much!! have a great day/night!!❤️❤️
GIRL ME TOO !!! so glad you requested it, i wrote this, hope u enjoy it ♡♡
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Starry night | Enzo Vogrincic
Synopsis: Sharing feelings has always been challenging, but under the starry sky, sitting right beside his childhood friend on the eve of his movie premiere party, Enzo confesses a love that has lingered his heart since he was seven.
Word count: 1.5k
Content: Enzo Vogrincic/Reader, mutual pining, childhood friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, fluffy overall, no explicit content, focus on emotions, and strong affection for Enzo, references to ghibli's movies.
a/n: hi there !! i hope you guy enjoy this i pulled an all nighter just to write it lmaooo so bear with me if there's any typos or such; english isn't my first language, but I hope it's a good read!
- xoxo Kara ♡
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Time slips away so quickly.
Beneath the starry sky, the weight of its passing moments engulfs you like a fuzzy tidal wave, heavy and suffocating. Sinking beneath its weight has become your routine.
A soft, resigned sigh escapes your lips, the midnight air crisp on your tongue, turning into vapor in the summer night. Beyond your sight, stars burn in tandem, the cosmos vast and immersive. The moon, tonight, is a big blob of reflected sunlight, smiling tenderly, casting a soothing glow like a mother's voice.
In the familiarity of the sight, there's comfort. The moon, always there, in crescents or hidden by clouds, a constant in a changing world. What a peculiar and lovely thing it is to be under the celestial dance, where even the moon, with its timeless presence, seems to join the ever-moving cosmic ballet.
As you lay on the rooftop, the distant melody of music from the house below reaches your ears. It's a reminder of shared laughter, playful banter, and the bond you once had with Enzo. The thought of losing him, not just as a childhood friend but as this life partner makes you wanna cry right there.
Another second lost, as you gaze into the nothingness of space. Time keeps passing you by, never stopping —seconds turning into minutes, minutes turning into months. that incessant moving of the hands of the clock; tick, tock, tick, tock. over and over again.
and, really, it's a little bit scary. you think you might be terrified of time. you're so afraid, afraid of being left behind, afraid that the world will turn its back on you and then walk away. afraid that everyone and everything will change shape before you know it
The music serves as a soundtrack to your memories, a bittersweet symphony echoing through the night. Enzo, your companion through the years, feels like he's slipping away, and the weight of that potential loss is heavy against the backdrop of the starlit sky.
But even in this always-changing, turbulent mess of a life
one thing remains the same;
"Ah, there you are," Enzo's voice, honeyed and familiar, breaks the silence. A small smile graces your lips at the sight of him.
That voice...
honeyed and smooth, but still rough around the edges, just a little husky. Deep and familiar, etched into your brain; even if you were to forget everything else, you're sure you'd still remember it. That familiar voice. It sounds like moonlit nights, and sunkissed kitchens.
it sounds like coming home.
A turn of your head. it's a subconscious reaction, as natural as the beating of your own heart, memorized down to the very marrow of your bones — muscle memory, to seek him out after hearing the low timbre of his voice. You do it as if it's the only thing worth hearing.
And Enzo is smiling, when your eyes meet his. That gentle upward tug of his lips, small yet sincere. The one that always puts your mind at ease.
"How'd you know I'd be up here?" you tease, a playful glint in your eyes.
"Lucky guess," Enzo replies, his grin revealing the comfort of shared moments.
Of course, he knew. Tracking you down was his thing, always has been. Like that time when he found you concealed under a table at your twelfth birthday party or the time he discovered you teary-eyed in the woods during your school field trip.
Finding you always comes easy to Enzo. Almost like he's always seeking you out, subconsciously or otherwise, always paying attention to your movements. You go south, and he follows, you go north, and he's already waiting up ahead.
"Damn, how'd you know?" you playfully pout, looking into him.
"I always know, silly" Enzo confesses softly, his eyes holding a warmth that speaks volumes. "I've known you since we were seven"
A gentle inhale passes between you as the silence settles, the moon casting its glow on your shared history.
"I thought you might be too busy with, you know, the whole famous actor thing," you admit trying to make it a joke but insecurity creeps into your words. "Congratulations on that, i always knew you'd make it"
The whole party underneath you both was for Enzo, you felt kind of stupid for leaving so suddenly, after all tonight's was Enzo's night. But before he realized it, you had slipped away, seizing the chance as soon as others grew too drowsy to take notice.
But he always notices you.
And he's worried. just a bit, is what he tells himself but truthfully it's more than that.
You look small, enzo thinks, curled up with your knees to your chest. Sitting all alone up on the roof of his home, a place you'd always go to on nights when you couldn't sleep. Together, sharing whispered secrets and hushed laughter until the sun began to rise again. Back then, it felt like the two of you were the only ones awake in the whole world.
(the safest world he's ever known.)
The distance between you grows narrower, as enzo makes his way over to you - and it always does, at the end of the day. No matter how much time you spend apart, that uncomfortable distance always, always ends up broached. One of you always moves closer. As if it's unavoidable, two planets spinning around each other's orbit.
Enzo sits down right next to you, crossing his legs and leaning back. his knee bumps against the side of your shoe, and his shoulder grazes yours. It's natural, as natural as the glow of the moon, this closeness between you. It reminds you of the gentle lapping of the ocean waves of Punta del este at your bare ankles; on mellow summer days when you were 10 and went to a trip with your parents and Enzo's, comforting and familiar. A warmth that never goes away.
The moon bathes the rooftop in a gentle glow as Enzo chuckles in response to your teasing remark. "Busy? Yeah, it gets a bit crazy, but it's moments like these that remind me of what truly matters. And you know im never too busy for you." He shifts, a thoughtful expression on his face, as he gazes at the city below.
A brief inhale, and your heartbeat settles into a tender rhythm again. The scent that always lingers on Enzo's skin drifts throughout the air, mingling with your own — it can be hard to distinguish between the two, with how often you end up wearing each other's clothes, but you could never mistake it for anything else. Cedarwood and earl gray, with a hint of coconut-scented shampoo enveloping every single one of your senses, grounding you in a way nothing else can.
Leaning just a little closer to him, subconsciously, youet a fond exhale slip from your lips. Barely audible. And Enzo mimics it.
The silence between you is a comfortable one. Always has been. A little fickle, always shattered by one of you before long —usually you, though enzo isn't much better. But this time, he stays silent.
He's waiting. You know he is, because he always does.
He's waiting, waiting for you to break the silence first. Waiting for you to say something, tell him what's wrong, explain why you're up here instead of celebrating with the others. Waiting for you to explain why your eyes have looked so tired, this past week.
Enzo is nothing if not patient. So he waits, unbothered by the silence. Admiring the stars, and the flicker of their light. A vague worry simmers in his chest, however, and he can't stop himself from glancing down at you every now and then.
An insatiable yearning to soothe you gnaws at his heart
—but he can't, not unless you let him.
A sigh drops from your lips, suddenly. Deep and heavy, ike a rock thrown into the depths of a lake. The silence breaks.
"En...?"
The guy stays quiet, just humming inquisitively. He avoids eye contact, showing respect. He figures you'll spill what's on your mind more comfortably without him staring.
Your fingers lightly tap the rooftop tiles out of habit. You take in a bit of the midnight air—it's got that summer taste. "Remember how we first met?"
Enzo glances at you, surprise flickering in his eyes. He can't resist the urge to peek at your face, savoring your expression. Then, a chuckle escapes him. "Are you feeling sentimental?" he teases, a playful note in his voice, light and airy like seafoam. "Did you come out here just to reflect?"
The corners of his lips lift when he hears you huff, pulling your legs closer with a furrowed brow. Cheek pressed against your kneecap, you meet his gaze.
"Come on," you whine, pouting childishly, a trick you know will make him give in. "Just indulge me a little."
Enzo smiles, soft around the edges, radiating unmistakable fondness. He always indulges you. "Of course I do," he assures you.
The quiet settling between your words holds a tender understanding, a silent agreement.
"Of course, I remember. How could I forget? You broke into my backyard."
A sigh, weighty and pointed, escapes your lips. Enzo fights back a grin; his eyes dance with teasing mischief in the darkness as you shoot a glare his way.
"Okay, first of all," you begin, "I didn't break into anything. I climbed over the fence. Peacefully."
Enzo raises a brow. "That literally doesn't matter; it's still trespassing."
"I was seven years old!"
"Damn! Some of you criminals start young."
Another playful huff escapes you as you halfheartedly attempt to sound annoyed. Unsuccessful, you hide your growing smile by tucking your face into your knees. "Whatever."
Then your gaze shifts, drawn to the expanding starry sky, the vibrant flicker of the moon like a moth to a flame, helpless to its charms. It resembles a giant sponge cake, reminiscent of the ones you and Enzo used to make when that was the only recipe you knew – you'd eat from the batter, and he'd scold you. Then he'd do the same when your back was turned.
A smile graces your lips. In each star, a new memory unfolds, and the warm nostalgia surrounding you makes your heart feel exposed. "I just wanted to pet Ada" you reminisce, softly rememberig how little the cat was back then.
Enzo nods, his gaze directed at you, reveling in the expression on your face – tranquil and at ease, a bit more of yourself. Effortlessly lovely, bathed in moonlight. "Yeah, I remember."
He lets the memory carry him away for a moment or two, recalling the sight of you all those years ago, an unfamiliar child in his backyard. It was as if you had fallen from the sky – quiet and shy, yet with an excited glimmer in your eyes as you looked at his cat.
"You just pointed to her and expected me to understand," he continues, a grin blooming on his face, hopelessly endeared. "You were so shy back then."
A raise of your eyebrow. "Um? I'm still shy?"
Enzo gives you a look. He doesn't have to say anything – it's written all over his face. The classic Vogrincic look, the kind where you can tell he's itching to say, "Oh, really now?" The kind where he tries to appear judgmental but never quite manages to hide the amusement in his eyes.
A soft chuckle escapes your lips, and Enzo smiles once more, utterly captivated by your joy.
"Then we watched movies at my place,"
You hum. "It was fun."
"Yeah," he agrees.
Another spell of silence descends, tender and incredibly precious. The air is cool but not enough to make you shiver – a mild summer night, gentle on your skin and light on your heart. A soft breeze tousles your hair, and in the distance, cicadas buzz – a familiar, unchanging sound.
(If only everything else could remain the same, too.)
"Do you remember what movie it was?"
A lazy smile graces Enzo's lips as he turns to look at you, one eyebrow raised.
"Is there a point to this, or are you just trying to make m–"
"I just wanna reminisce."
Enzo pauses, observing your gaze as it wanders across the landscape, from the moon to the distant city lights. Absentmindedly fidgeting with the strings of your hoodie, you seem a bit lost, your eyes forgotten within the depths of the endless night sky.
No more teasing, he decides, choosing a more delicate approach. He answers your question softly, as if each octave of his voice could potentially cause you harm. "Whisper of the Heart," he reveals.
A little nod follows your hum of agreement. "Thats a top-tier one."
Enzo shifts his gaze away, muttering something under his breath. Still audible, though. "Spirited Away takes the cake..."
Catching a glimpse of your unimpressed look, he suppresses a soft laugh. His teeth graze his lip gently, just enough to avoid any sting.
"You're so basic," you playfully grin.
"You just want to feel special," Enzo retorts, quick on the uptake. "And you only like it because of Seji."
"You're only a Spirited Away fan because of Haku!"
Enzo closes his eyes, leans back a bit, crossing his arms in a somewhat childlike manner – a move aimed at drawing out laughter. "I don't know what you're talking about," he pretends.
"Oh, come on," you scoff. "Do you really think I've forgotten your sudden "enlightenment"?"
"Hm? What's that?" Feigning confusion, Enzo puts a hand to his ear, amusement twinkling in his eyes. "You'll have to come closer; I can't hear you from here."
Another unimpressed look accompanies your exhale, a mix of a scoff and a chuckle. "If I get any closer, I'll be in your lap, goofball."
Enzo bites his cheek gently, holding back the words that almost slip off his tongue.
(He wouldn't mind)
"Sorry, can you repeat that?" A playful nudge meets his shoulder as you roll your eyes.
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever."
The banter fades away as quickly as it came. Then, smiles break out across both your faces simultaneously, the atmosphere shifting into something more sincere. Doesn't it always when you're gazing at the starry sky with the one you love most?
As Enzo continues, his voice takes on that softer tone once again—the one thats only reserved for you. "I always liked imagining us as them," he confesses. "Me as Haku, and you as Chihiro."
A soft blink, and your smile sweetens like syrup. "...That's amusing," you cross your legs, palms flat against the roof, knee comfortably leaning against Enzo's. "I always thought of us as Seiji and Shizuku."
There's a distant look in your eyes, something Enzo can't look away from. Tentatively, his fingers press into the skin of his palms, and he speaks, absentminded and a bit uncertain. ".. they get married at the end, don't they?"
A pause, then your gaze locks onto Enzo's, suddenly mischievous – and he regrets opening his mouth.
"Oh?" you purr, almost beaming, closing the distance like a
predator sizing up its prey. "Oh, really? Is this a proposal, Mr. Vogrincic?"
"I'm just stating facts" he quips, hands raised in defense, hoping you won't notice the red tint creeping up his neck, hidden by the night.
"Incorrect facts," you grin. Whether you catch the blush or not, you don't mention it. "They get engaged, not married. Big difference."
Enzo huffs, small, trying to suppress a smile. The beat of his heart is faint, a gentle rhythm stirred by every move you make. He pushes back the words he longs to say. "I wouldn't mind that, either."
Once again, silence envelops you, weaving around the space between you. It's comforting, just being like this; you and your best friend under the moon's soft glow. As if you're the sole inhabitants of an otherwise vacant universe, free from space and time.
Like the night could pause and stretch on forever.
Yet, there's an unspoken question lingering. One Enzo is still waiting for you to answer. One you won't address until he does the same.
Both of you have noticed, even if no one else has – the turmoil in your eyes, the fatigue under his. Those subtle signs of stress as everything around you keeps twirling on, as the future approaches with every passing day.
"Remember how school felt like it would last forever, and now... it's all just a blur."
Enzo's eyes light up with nostalgia. "Yeah, the days when we believed we could conquer the world. Time goes by so quickly." He pauses, a wistful smile playing on his lips. "But hey, we had some pretty great adventures."
A soft laugh escapes you. "Adventures, mischief, and a fair share of detentions. I miss those days."
Enzo grins, "Our secret base, the pranks we pulled, and the dreams we shared. Life was simpler back then."
You sigh, "Simpler, but full of possibilities. Now everything feels like it's rushing by, and I can't keep up."
Enzo reaches for your hand, offering a comforting squeeze. "You're not alone in feeling that way. I miss the simplicity too, but some things haven't changed." He looks into your eyes, his gaze holding a depth of emotions.
"Yeah, your talent and that dream that's not a dream anymore En. Its now your reality, and I'm so proud of you, I'd always knew you'd make it" You said with a nostalgic smile on your face.
Deep down, you knew you'd end up losing him; he had everything to succeed in the industry.
Enzo meets your gaze, a hint of gratitude in his eyes. "Thank you, sweetheart... It means a lot to hear that from you."
As Enzo utters the endearment "sweetheart," a fluttering sensation courses through your stomach, a delicate dance of butterflies that seems to synchronize with the newfound warmth in your chest. With a surge of emotions enveloping you, you can't help but wrap your arms around Enzo's body, hugging him tightly and feeling the size difference between the both of you. A murmured "of course" escapes your lips.
The moonlight paints a soft glow around you both, and the distant sounds of the party create a gentle background melody. Enzo takes a moment after the hug, collecting his thoughts, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand.
"There's something I've been wanting to tell you for a long time, You know?" He starts, catching your eye. "Oh look who's reflecting now" You say as you laugh softly. "What is it?"
"These moments, right here, remind me of the times when life was simpler, and we were just two kids dreaming under the same sky." He pauses, searching for the right words.
"You know, when we were younger, I used to take you to the cinema, to the lake, even on your 15th birthday... Each time, I wanted to tell you something important, but I never found the right moment. It's been on my mind, and I'm tired of postponing it."
Your heart quickens at his words, confusion mingling with anticipation. Enzo's expression shifts, becoming more serious yet tender.
"Do you remember those times? I was trying to say that..." He hesitates a little, his eyes looking straight into yours, noticing how every single star can fit on your gaze "I'm in love with you. From the days of our childhood adventures to now, you've always been the girl of my dreams. I wanted to share my success with you because you've been my constant, my anchor."
The weight of his confession hangs in the air, and your mind races to process the revelation. Enzo continues, "I know that recently the world sees me as this actor, but to you, I just want to be Enzo. The boy you've known since we were seven. I'm tired of hiding my feelings, and I didn't want to lose another moment without letting you know."
Silence stretches between you, the memories of your shared past intertwining with the present. You're caught between the familiarity of nostalgia and the unexpected confession, yet, suddenly, some things start to make sense.
Enzo's eyes search yours, vulnerable and earnest.
"En, wait... what do you mean? In love with me? Like, as a friend or...?" Your words trail off, searching for clarity.
Enzo takes a deep breath, his thumb caressing the back of your hand. You can feel him shaking. "No I mean, romantically in love with you. Since we were kids, I've tried to tell you, but I never found the right moment."
Your eyes widen, replaying moments in your mind. "Wait, are you saying all those times – the cinema, the lake, my 15th birthday – you wanted to confess your feelings?"
Enzo nods, a mix of vulnerability and sincerity in his eyes. "Exactly. I kept hoping for the perfect moment, but life just kept moving too fast"
Your mind races, grappling with the revelation. Enzo continues, "What im trying to say is you've been the girl of my dreams since i can remember. I wanted to share my success with you, not just as an actor but as the person who's been my constant through it all."
Silence envelops the rooftop, the city of Montevideo below seemingly hushed in anticipation. Enzo looks at you, his expression a mosaic of hope and uncertainty.
After a moment of processing, you break into a soft laugh. "Enzo, this is... I... i just never saw this coming... oh my god"
With a warm smile, Enzo pulls you into a hug, and you reciprocate, embracing the familiarity of his presence. "Its okay if you dont feel the same... but I... I've just been carrying this for so long; it feels good to finally share it with you." He says with a sad tone.
As you're held in Enzo's embrace, the vulnerability of the moment encourages you to share your own feelings. "Enzo, no... Its not that, its just that I... I never thought you'd see me that way. I always felt like you were way too good for me, like I'd never be enough, so i always thought it'll be pointless to confess because you'll end up leaving me... And its just the thought of losing you as a friend and now knowing you've felt this way for so long, it's just overwhelming."
Enzo loosens the hug, gently holding your shoulders as he looks into your eyes. "You were always more than enough. I never wanted to risk our friendship, but holding back these feelings became harder as time went on. Our friendship means the world to me, and the fear of losing you kept me silent."
Tears glisten in your eyes as you continue, "I spent so many nights up here on this rooftop, wondering if I was just another friend among many for you. I never thought I could be the one you'd be in love with."
Enzo wipes away a tear with his thumb, a tender smile on his face. "You were never just another friend. You were the one who understood me, laughed with me, and stood by me through it all. And I've been in love with you since we were kids."
The weight of unspoken emotions finally laid bare, you share a bittersweet laugh. "Guess we were both too scared to ruin what we had."
Enzo nods, his hand now resting on your cheek. "Maybe, but holding back feels like a bigger risk now. I don't want to waste any more time, not when i don't know how much of it we have left"
As the moonlight bathes both of you, you take a deep breath and finally say, "Enzo, I've always been in love with you too."
A shared understanding and a newfound honesty linger in the air as Enzo leans in and his lips meets yours in a tender kiss, a culmination of years of unspoken emotions and shared moments. In that intimate exchange, the rooftop becomes a sanctuary for a new beginning, and just for that moment: time seems to stand still.
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