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notjustjavierpena · 4 months

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Panties

A/N: Well look who are back. I didn’t think dbf!joel still existed in my brain but it seems that he is actually thriving. A little treat for you all while I polish some hubby stuff. This one absolutely goes out to @sugadolly 💖💅🫶

Summary: You show off your cute little underwear. Joel wants to fuck you but you want to try something else.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, dbf!joel, age gap, daddy kink, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names, reader is a good little girl, outside sex (idk what is to call it), clit stim, overstim, reader is cockdrunk af, they’re actually very much in love for real, cum!!!!

Word count: 2.2k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52857010

Panties

“Lemme see them,” Joel says with a gentle tone as he admires you only in your jeans. He is hovering above you, kisses your lips a few times, and cups your tits as he slips his tongue into your mouth for a brief moment.

You wrap your arms around his neck, feeling his chest against your breasts as you embrace each other. You giggle softly, “They’re silly, Daddy.”

“Never thought in a million years that my baby would be silly,” he says with obvious sarcasm, nudging your nose with his own, “Show Daddy your pretty little panties. I’m gonna see ‘em eventually.”

You remove yourself from him to step back. You roll your eyes, and he raises a brow but then you follow through.

“Fine,” you tut as you lie down on his bed. His eyes lock on your buttoned jeans, his mouth slightly agape as he breathes deeply with anticipation hanging in the air.

You undo your jeans and pull down the zipper, wiggling your hips as you pull the denim down over them, and into view comes your pink cotton briefs. They’re cute, not silly, but you already know this, sporting a little bow on the front and a pattern of chibi-style cats.

“Well?” You kick off your jeans, throwing them onto the floor.

Joel kneels on the bed, admiring them thoroughly, “Pussy panties?”

You snort, covering your mouth and nose as you do, “Shut up.”

“Am I wrong, baby?” He crawls closer to you, lifts your legs up to bend them, and spreads them until his thighs hit the back of yours. He reaches up to peel his shirt off and throws it into your arms so you can hug it close and get drunk on his scent.

“No,” you say as you contemplate crawling into the piece of clothing that he has given you. God, you want him everywhere on you. That masculine smell has you wet in moments.

“Makes ya look real pretty, lovebug,” he compliments, just about to peel the underwear off of you. He stops himself as you scrunch your nose up at the new pet name.

Joel laughs heartily, “Don’t like it?”

“Say it again,” you grin up at him.

“Love. Bug,” he repeats, yanks one of your legs at a time over his hips.

“Hmm,” you tap your chin, “Maybe you should call me it as I come, just to make me associate it with something nice.”

“Cheeky,” he says as he pulls down his own underwear. They are in no way as thrilling as yours; black briefs that can barely contain his hard cock and with a little logo on the waistband. He settles them around his thighs, and whilst he does, you reach down to pull your colorful panties to the side.

“Joel?” You say his name. He makes a movement as if his ears have perked up at hearing his actual name.

“What is it?” He asks, rubbing your legs soothingly. His eyes are locked on your cunt.

“When— when you’re,” you trail off, suddenly shy, “Uh, when you…”

“Yes?” He drags the word out, looks up.

“I want you to come on them,” your heart beats in your chest and ears but out of the corner of your eyes, you spot Joel’s cock twitching in the air upon hearing those words.

“Was that so hard to ask for?” He digs his thumbs into your thighs, causing you to squirm underneath him, “You just lie back and let Daddy treat ya right.”

You wait in anticipation. And then, oh.

Ohh.

“Ah,” you mewl, looking down between you to see what he is doing. The thick head of his cock lays heavily against your clit, and when you tell him how good it feels, he holds the base of his shaft and slaps the tip against the small nub a few times.

You shudder, clenching around nothing and flexing your thighs as you shift a little. Joel’s cock hangs between his legs again, and his hands slide down to rest on your hips, thumbs reaching inwards to spread you open and watch your pulsing cunt.

“You want me to make you feel good, baby? Make you come so hard that your little clit won’t stop twitchin’ until you get all teary-eyed?” He reaches for your clit to circle it with the pad of his thumb, and you can feel slick drip down between your ass cheeks. You moan helplessly and nod repeatedly, already heaving for breath, and Joel beams with pride, “Already cockdrunk? My my. I haven’t even fucked ya yet.”

“I don’t want you to f— I don’t want that,” you say suddenly, surprising even yourself. You reach down for Joel’s cock, pulling it against your cunt but not dipping the head into you. Instead, you rub him against your clit, “This, Daddy, I want to come like this.”

“I can make that happen,” he reassures, batting your hand away to replace it and grabbing at the base of his cock himself. He resumes what you were doing, dipping the head down to catch some of your wetness before adding pressure to your clit. He slides back and forth a few times, “Like that?”

“Mhm,” you hum softly, furrowing your brow in concentration. You hold still to let him rub his whole length through your folds until he is sticky with your arousal. His left hand is still grabbing your hip, and he uses it for leverage as he leans a little weight into you.

When he grows impatient after a few minutes of you crying quietly for him, he tries to enter you. You catch his wrist and shake your head, “No! No… you promised.”

“I did no such thing,” he clicks his tongue at you.

You pout up at him, “But…”

“Oh, don’t make that face,” he groans, “You know I can’t do anythin’ when you make that face.”

“Please,” you beg, “I’ll come so hard for you.”

“Yeah?” He smiles down at you.

“Yeah,” you blink your eyes prettily, “This feels so good. I’ll cream all over your cock, Daddy.”

“Now how can I say no to that?” He moves a little before guiding his cockhead back to where you want it. He rubs the blunt head in circles over your clit for a moment, slaps it against the sensitive spot too, until you can hear the squelching sound of your wetness coating you. It makes him glide over your cunt easier.

You curl your toes and bite your lip as you look down at what he is doing, “Ahh… Keep going.”

He does, building up a rhythm that has you whining pathetically. This shouldn’t be that intense but it is, making your pussy flutter and seek out more.

“Let me try something,” you say, and he stops as you reach down, “One second.”

With both hands, you take hold of the seam of the leg of your underwear, holding tightly at the very top of it and the very bottom. You yank it down to sit tightly over the girth of Joel’s cock, essentially trapping it underneath your panties so it drags along the shaft with each of his thrusts. He sits so tightly against you now.

“Try now,” you don’t even have to say please for Joel to know you are begging.

“Jesus Christ,” he growls at the new sensation, spurred on to make himself feel it even more. He fucks himself against you with a sudden quickened breath.

The bed starts shaking. You start trembling.

You’re not able to take your eyes off of your sinful act, chewing on your bottom lip as he works his cock back and forth over and over again underneath the seam of your panties.

“Please,” your sound is weak, “Fuck!”

“Careful with that,” he scolds, “Eyes on me.”

You quickly look up at his face, barely able to focus with how much he shakes your whole frame with every push of his lower body.

“Say sorry,” he commands, referring to your use of a swear word. He doesn’t relent one bit, rolling his hips again and again.

“S-sorry,” you apologize, too focused on how your orgasm is already approaching, “Please.”

“Hold on,” he slows down, and you nearly sob with how close you are, but he only does it to remove his shirt and uncover your chest again. Then he goes back to his frantic thrusts, eyes fixated on the way that your tits bounce with every push of his hips.

“‘M close, Daddy,” you hiccup, feeling your heartbeat in all parts of your body. You throw your head back and groan loudly at the head of the bed, “I’m so close.”

If you weren’t holding onto your underwear, you would be clutching the bed frame so hard that your knuckles were white. Instead, the fabric is pulled so taut by your fingers that it hurts when it digs into your skin. You probably don’t have to do it so roughly but the pleasure racking up your spine makes you need it.

“Don’t hold back, baby,” he encourages with ragged breathing. Confident that you won’t let go as you orgasm, he lets go of himself and grabs both of your hips. He hoists you up a little, leans forward a little further, and then drives his hips back and forth, cockhead sliding over your clit repeatedly.

“I’m gonna— Oh my God, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come,” you say it like you’re almost in a panic, almost too overwhelmed to embrace the intensity you’re about to experience. You want to push him away and pull him in at the same time but he holds you so roughly in place that you just have to take it. Your eyes find his as you let it happen, “I’m coming! Daddy, oh f— I’m coming!”

“Yeah? My love bug’s coming?” He nods as encouragement, “Come for me, darlin’ baby.”

And my God, you do. You can feel your whole pelvic floor erupt into beautiful spasms of pleasure, your clit pulsing so fast and strongly that you are sure that Joel can feel it against his dick. You thank God that he is holding onto you because you are twitching and moving involuntarily as he continues his sweet torment, and tears stream down your face.

“That’s it, baby doll, you just cry all ya want,” Joel manages to coo between his own moans. You sob as your orgasm peaks, even more when you slip into a state of oversensitivity. Joel doesn’t relent, “Oh, baby. I know, baby, I know.”

It isn’t until your panties start to tear that he draws back, precome beading at the slit of his cock from how turned on he is. He is smeared with your arousal too, pearly white, and he seems to have put all the strength he has into holding back so you don’t pass out.

You shiver, trying to make sense of why your body chose to make you come so hard from a simple clit orgasm. The sweat on your body suddenly feels cold, and you reach for him until he leans down and kisses your lips. You whimper into his mouth. He wipes away a few tears.

“You okay?” He asks softly, pulling back slightly to look you in the eyes as you reply.

“Yes, sorry.”

“No, no. Don’t apologize,” he tuts, “You were gorgeous. God, I am so crazy about you.”

“Now you,” you insist, looking down between the two of you to see the red tip of his weeping cock, “You promised.”

“That I did,” he draws back until he is on his knees again. He grabs the base of his dick, strokes it a few times, and then lays it against the crotch of your underwear.

Joel rubs the head fast against the soft fabric. He holds onto your thighs, neck muscles straining as he seeks out his own pleasure. You watch him whilst delirious with post-orgasmic bliss, occasionally whimpering when he unintentionally slides over your swollen clit.

A moment later, after one of your particularly high whines, he comes with a short breath of relief. He stains the fabric, lays his cock heavy against the front of the underwear, and pulses until he has no more to give. It’s intense to see him like this, and you find yourself grabbing his wrist to keep him in the moment with you.

“Christ, sweetheart,” he pants. He slumps a little.

“I thought it was love bug,” you say with irresistible charm.

“Don’t make me tell you to lick ‘em clean, young lady,” he smirks, already crawling forward to lay down on top of you. He crushes you so heavenly with his weight, pretending-biting your cheek and causing you to snicker, “Are we clear?”

You hold him close, relishing in everything that he is, “We’re clear. I’ll behave. Somewhat.”

“Somewhat?” He nuzzles into your neck and presses a kiss.

“Well, I don’t think I’m quite satisfied,” you say dramatically.

Joel pulls back to glare at you, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, I need you inside me too,” you pout even more dramatically, “Pussy feels so lonely, Daddy. Needs something.”

“Well, we can’t starve this insatiable pussy, can we?” Joel catches on quickly, and soon, he has you screaming on three of his fingers.

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nanaminis · 1 month

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jjk men & you: nail appointment!

tldr: gojo, geto, nanami, ino, choso, toji, sukuna + mahito going with you to your nail appointment.

cw: fem!reader. sukuna refers to reader as ‘woman’ once. and mahito.

a/n: this was fun lowk. might do it for jjk boys, depends on my motivation. idk if mahito particularly counts as a man, but he’s here for my mootie. time to sleep now, enjoy!!!

✿ — gojo:

first things first, he’s paying for your nails. which sounds like a good thing, until you realize he’s insisting on going along with you. he’ll pester you the entire time, suggesting colors and styles (how does he know so much?!) and then doing anything to get you to laugh or look at him. sometimes it results in your nail tech getting a little lot frustrated because he keeps making you squirm. eventually, tho, he’ll stop and let the tech finish up your nails.

“they’re cute. would’ve been cuter if you let me pick, buuuut... still cute.”

✿ — ino:

he’ll flex his knowledge about nails like it’s something revolutionary or suggest a style that he swears is completely unique, only for you to correct him and realize that it’s really just basic information. he’ll spend the rest of the appointment scrolling through pinterest and instagram, trying to find inspo for your next set.

“ooh, baby, look. these are nice, right?”

✿ — nanami:

only pays if you want him to, and only goes if you want him to. is content to let you pick whatever style you want, but likes to pick out bold colors and suggest designs based on your interests or adding charms. always tips the tech, and once your nails are done, he gently grabs your hand and kisses the back of it.

“these suit you perfectly, my lady.”

✿ — geto:

at first, he is nawt going in there. unless you find a sorcerer nail tech, he’s going to be slick the entire time. he’ll side-eye everyone else getting their nails done, judge their taste (“why would she choose that shit-brown?”), and stand up the entire time. he doesn’t want the germs. once you’re done, he’s pulling you out of there as quickly as possible.

“here, take this. ... yes, it’s hand sanitizer. you don’t want those monkey germs, right?”

✿ — toji:

only goes because you told him if he tagged along, you’d pay. in reality, he was going to go all along, just to make sure nobody tries anything. he will slap the shit outta somebody, including your nail tech. sits in a tiny chair by your side, massive head resting on your shoulder and arms crossed, absolutely knocked out. he’ll only wake up if you shrug your shoulder or if the appointment ends (he has some kind of sixth sense for that shit).

“huh? ... nah, i ain’t sleep. you cute, now c’mon.”

✿ — choso:

kind of like gojo, clingy asf. he won’t make suggestions (bro has no idea, pls bear w/ him), but he’ll praise any and every decision you make. his arms will be wrapped around your waist the entire time, earning him lots of ‘awhss’ and ‘look at them! so cute.’ tips the nail tech for “making you extra gorgeous.” his words, not mine.

“you look good, i swear. i like the colors, and the shape, and the design, and your hands...”

✿ — sukuna:

has a personal nail tech. you think he maintains them black nails by himself? no. threatens his nail tech to do good on your nails, otherwise it’ll be the last set they ever do. makes minor suggestions, but is content to sit back and let you decide for yourself. he does have a preference color, though, either black, red, or dark purple. gets a weird urge to nibble your fingers once your nails are done. please don’t ask why.

“hm? you look fine, woman. nothing rivals your natural beauty, so quit ya whining.”

✿ — higuruma:

he’s awake for the entire prep process. watching you pick your colors, decide on a design, get settled in the chair. the second the nail tech actually gets to work, though, he’s tapped out. just like toji, he’s sitting in a chair beside you, head either resting in your lap or on your shoulder. if he could sit across from you, his head would be on your chest. only wakes up when it’s time to pay (he tips!) or if something goes wrong.

“... mm? oh, those are nice, sunshine. i like the little designs, very cute.”

✿ — mahito ..?:

a lil shit the entire time istg. doesn’t care what you pick, will poke and squish and pinch and nuzzle you the whole process, annoying both you and the tech. considers getting his done to match yours, but realizes he could probably just morph the shape of his soul instead of sitting there.

“those are, like, so cute! ... no? you don’t like my valley girl accent?”

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winterzsurprise · 11 months

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Playing with fire || Miguel O'hara

Pairing: Miguel O'hara x f!reader

Summary: After risking your life to save one spider, Miguel had enough and decided it was time to discipline you.

Tags: SMUT, NOT BETA READ, face slapping (M&F), brat! reader, spanking, very brief blowjob, gagging, Miguel has a big dick, overstimulation (?), multiple orgasm denial, rough sex, pussy slapping, unprotected sex, pain kink, some aftercare at the end.

Words: 2.8k

idk how Tumblr works as well but user @/octobersoot said something about reader being a brat to Miguel and I had to revamp this one idea lol. I hope this counts as reader being a brat.

Spanish speakers, do correct me with the last one in the translation, thank you in advance :DD

cariño - honey || mi vida - my life || coño - fuck (literally means cunt but google said it can also be used as like 'fuck!' or 'shit!' in English)

"NO DON'T!"

When you ripped yourself from Miguel's hands and jumped down into the black hole to catch the Spider-Man that fell into it, you had two thoughts.

If you die, Miguel would pull you from hell to kill you.

If you lived, Miguel would make sure you'd regret it.

As the void approaches, you latched onto one falling debris and leaped out to get closer to the guy whose wrist’s flicked to release some webs for you to catch on but you ignored it. You’ve seen how using webs to catch someone goes and it didn’t end well, you’re not about to make the same mistakes.

Reaching out to grab the falling Peter's hand, you webbed to the nearest stable item you could before feeling Miguel’s webs wrap around your waist. The momentary fear and adrenaline from saving the spider drained out of your skin almost immediately. Hearing the angry man barking orders above you, you prayed early for your soul.

You're not religious but you'd certainly need a diety's kind soul to take pity on you today once you’re left behind doors with Miguel alone.

"AY COÑO, WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?! DID YOU GET YOUR HEAD HIT SOMEWHERE??"

You grunted, tugging President Spidey with you. "Just pull us up!"

"I should let go of you for being so stupid!"

"Then fucking do it coward!"

Despite his comments, it took one tug from Miguel to pull you and President Spider-Man to a safe spot on a building they were resting at to watch the consequences of altering canon events. The anger radiating out of his body would be enough to trigger your senses, his glare searing a hole through your skull.

Looking up sheepishly, Miguel’s face was contorted into subdued rage. The absolute fury lashing in his dark red eyes made your heart drop to the soles of your feet.

You're absolutely fucked and you don't know if you regret it or not.

On one hand, he's going to murder you and split your body into pieces to feed the kraken version of Doc Ock. But on the other, he's unfathomably hot when he's glaring through your flesh and soul.

How could he be so alluring while plotting your murder? You have no idea.

"We're going to have a talk." His darkened voice made your spine tingle, you nod and turned to run towards Hobi but the firm hand on your shoulder halts you. "Don't move, I'll break your knees if you do."

President Spider-Man shrunk beside you, more intimidated by the threat directed towards you than you do.

"Is that a threat, boss?"

"No cariño, it's a promise."

Leaping down to greet the quarantine squad, he left the two of you on the rooftops. President Spidey turned to you, worried to the nines for your soul.

"D-do you need to universe hop? You're free to hide at mine, since it's my fault you're gonna get grinded later."

You laughed, slapping him in the back to which he wheezed at. "Don't worry, he won't bite."

•=•=•=•=•=•

Despite your shit attempt of comforting President Spider-Man, he didn't leave your side, ready to jump in front of you if Miguel happens to snap in the middle of the journey back to HQ. Hobie however, attempted to pry him off of your side with an amused smile.

“Have you realized how fucked you are?”

President Spidey hushed him, to which the man raised an eyebrow at. “Don’t say that.”

When you all entered the office, Miguel halted and you all followed. There’s a buzz in the back of your head and a glance at the nervous wreck beside you tells you that he felt it too.

"Everyone except my wife, leave."

President Spidey almost spoke up, probably to request to stay next to you until Hobie swung his arms around his neck and pulled him out, but not before saluting to you.

"I'll burn the ministry in your honor."

His voice echoed in the dimly lit room until the hatch closed shut, isolating you and your husband from the outside world until further notice. You watch as a yellow holographic lady materializes over his shoulder, Layla whose gaze immediately met yours.

"Layla, make sure no one tries to enter my office until I say so. Go hang out with Spiderbyte in the meantime."

"Don't break the poor girl, she didn't do—"

"I don't want to hear it. Leave."

Sparing you a pitiful smile, she dispersed into the air. With no hatch to escape to, nor any obstacles to run behind, you were left standing a few footsteps away from the man.

"I thought we had an agreement to keep ourselves safe during missions?"

There was a simmering anger hidden behind his words, tone almost dark and bitten back.

"I was safe, you just need to place a little faith on—"

"The last time I did that, the people I cared about died."

You wanted to defend yourself, bring up being safer since you're Spider-Man and all that but you knew it wouldn't end well. Seeing the seething anger radiating off of him, that's the best course of action.

Hanging your head down with a sigh. "Alright, I'm sorry."

"Sorry's not gonna cut it this time, cariño. I think I have to drill it into you."

Your brain clicks, realizing what he said and you frown. "Fucking is not gonna help us right now, Miguel!"

"Well I don't see you complaining every time it happens, do I? If I recall, you've begged, cried and screamed my name again and—"

Your hand moved faster than your brain as you slapped the man. You gasped, bringing both hands up to your mouth as you watched him go silent.

"I-I'm so sorry, I didn't mean—"

"No no no, I see how it is."

You waited for his next move with bated breath, goosebumps prickling your skin. You debated on taking a few steps back but before you could, he surged with his hands grabbing your neck and slamming you on the wall, stealing the breath from your lungs and you gasped.

“You know the words, mi vida?”

You curled your eyebrows at him. Does he mean your safeword?

“F-fucking get your hands off of me, let's talk."

The light slap on your cheeks shocked you, mouth falling ajar at the action. You couldn’t deny the fact that the sting left by his hand has stirred your desires awake, nor can you even dare to mention how breathless—figuratively and literally—he left you.

Miguel observed your eyes, cautious of any hurt flashing in them before putting more pressure on the side of your throat and you greedily inhaled more air as much as you could. Dark spots crawl from the side of your vision and fear starts to claw at your heart.

Yet the uncomfortable slickness and ache between your thighs says otherwise.

"Your words."

"I'm not using them!"

The grin curling his lips sent shivers down your spine, doom looming over you.

"Good."

Before you could say anything, he released your throat and you fell to the floor, inhaling greedily for air as your vision slowly repairs itself.

"I've been wanting to tame that mouth of yours since earlier."

You coughed, peering up at him through your eyelashes. "R-really? I thought you liked that about me?"

"Oh really? I thought I said I only liked your mouth, not your voice."

Grabbing your jaw, he forced you to look up before pushing two of his fingers through your lips, pressing down on your tongue as his suit disintegrated to reveal his formal clothes. Miguel's hand threads through your hair, caressing the back of your head before tugging. With a wicked grin, he continued.

"Strip."

It was a command, not a request. The low timbre of his voice sends jolts of pleasure down your spine. Following his heeds like a hypnotized woman, you made quick work of your clothes, tossing them to the side and unshackling your web shooters.

Reaching up, you unbuttoned his pants and took care of his fly before shrugging the clothing down his thighs. The tent in his boxers sent shivers down your spine, a promise of pleasure behind its confines.

Pulling it down, his girth revealed itself to you and your tongue grew heavy inside your mouth, a few dribbles of pre-cum on the tip and the prominent veins giving it an illusion of being larger than it already is. Miguel pulled you closer making you kiss the base of his dick.

"What a sinful face you have, cariño. I'm starting to like this more."

He guided his length to your mouth, smearing his clear arousal on the plush of your lips making you open up only for his hand to come down harshly against your cheeks once more.

The sharp sting immediately melts into hot arousal pooling down your thighs.

"Do you really think you deserve me, mi cielo? After speaking back to me earlier?"

"I want it, please?"

He scoffed. "'Want' it? Do you think you own me? That's funny."

His webs embraced you and he pulled, making you stumble to the floor with a yelp. Being bound tightly by Miguel who towered over you with sadistic glee and glowering eyes, made you feel small all over.

Yet the sick bastard at the back of your head smiled an ugly grin.

"How about we try it again? Maybe if you ask nicely, I'll give you what you wanted."

He pulled you back to a standing position, his hand immediately locking onto your jaw, forcing your eyes to meet his dilated and darkened red pairs that seemed to tempt you to drown yourself in them.

Your eyes fell to the hand pumping himself leisurely and groaned.

"Please? Darling, I want to taste you."

"Do you deserve it?"

"I'm more of an action type of person than a talker."

He said nothing, watching as you fall back to your knees before tapping the head of his cock onto your lips. Once your mouth opened, his hand on your jaw crawled to the back of your head and pushed.

The sudden and wide intrusion down your throat got you gagging yet Miguel only found pleasure from the throb of your muscles constricting around him.

You remind yourself to breathe through your nose, trying to force yourself through it but your throat complains and you knew you couldn't take it. Slapping his thighs thrice, he pulled away immediately, clicking his tongue while you coughed and gasped for air.

"Bold talk. I knew your mouth wasn't fit for speaking at all. Such a shame it can't do anything at all."

Still focused on the throb in your throat, you weren't able to react fast enough when he pulled you flush to his chest by the web and carried you to the platform where a cushioned chair awaits.

He sat and you ended up on his lap with both his calloused hands grounding you by the shoulder and hips. Miguel's burning eyes roamed the expanse of your chest, one hand rising to trace his gaze with his fingertips and pinching the stiffened peaks of your mounds making you moan from the slightest touch.

"Maybe your pussy could do a better job."

The hand soon crept around your neck with his eyes where it pressed against its sides once more.

It was maddening how you could feel his hardness pressing against your folds yet unable to do much about it. The firm hand on your hips prevents you from grinding down on him. He does reach down to your clit, palming your engorged bead but before you could revel in it, he pulled away.

"Did those slaps get you this wet baby? Didn't know you're such a slut."

Your cheeks lights up and you slapped his cheek lightly for the name he called you, only for Miguel to return it harder.

"You don't get to slap me, slut. The only thing you're for is this pussy."

A wet slap resonated in the room and you cried, thighs closing from the impact on your heat, embarrassment burning your body before shame crawled up your throat as you realized his demeaning behavior seems to only goad you further.

He didn't give you a chance to prepare when he pushed his cockhead into you. Tears brimmed in your eyes as the burn of the stretch stung your veins and stirred your desire further. Every inch inserted tore you apart, the sensation a mixture of heaven and hell, it was delicious as it was painful.

Seeing the struggle in your face, Miguel reached down to roll your clit in slow circles, whispering affirmations into your ears. The moment he sensed your accommodation to his girth did he pull out till his head remained, angling his hips before inserting himself back again to hit the spongy spot on your walls.

You whimpered and moaned in his shoulder as his pace grew with a manic fervor. The pain slowly transitioned into pleasure with the frequency of his thrusts, your nails dug into his shoulder as he pushed himself deeper and deeper into you, narrowly missing your uterus as he pistoned into you.

Mind whirled in ecstasy and lightness brought by his fingers on your throat, you only grabbed onto him for dear life as he quickly dragged you to the edge.

Feeling the familiar pulse and tightness of your walls around him, Miguel suddenly pulled away and you cried.

"Why did you pull away?"

His hand came down with a loud crack! as it collides with the globes of your ass in quick successions. Your hips twists as you clenched desperately on air. Desire clawed at your throat and you whimpered, body already missing the rush of pleasure he brought with every push.

“Do you think you deserve it, mi vida?”

You nodded and he chuckled darkly. “I don’t think you do.”

Despite his words, Miguel entered you once more, picking up his previous pace. Your previous orgasms arose, walls clamping down onto him, desperate for the release you craved so deeply. There's a wet sound echoing in the room along and you flushed deeper yet far too desperate for euphoria to care.

His deft fingers found your clit with experienced accuracy and slapped it with every thrust of his hips.

You shouldn't be enjoying every bit of pain yet here you were, moaning and wriggling your hips for more stimulation like a mad woman.

"My cariño's such a slut taking all of this pain like the whore she is. Bet you liked that spider guy huh? Jumping off like a fool to save a dick, so pathetic."

Miguel pulled away and you cried, the itch of dissatisfaction searing through your body. You clawed at his back as if the pain could threaten him, in response, Miguel swats your rear once more.

"A little slut like you doesn't deserve to cum. After that stupid stunt earlier? Do you think you deserve to come?"

"Yes yes yes."

He slapped you across the face but you could care less, whining.

"Stop being a dick and give it to me, please!"

Clicking his tongue. "Such a desperate slut, I'd slap you for that, but I'm feeling a bit generous."

It was his fingers that attacked you this time, deftly rubbing your clit. Your hips stuttered up to follow his hand.

“Might as well count how many, right?”

Your mind grows lighter as time bleeds against each other. His objections to your orgasms grew frequent as the intervals between your nirvana grew shorter, you have lost count of how many he has denied you and has long stopped doing so, body now laid motionlessly on top of his as you sobbed onto his shoulder from frustration.

Miguel didn't care, in fact, he reveled in your misery every time.

His hips pistoned faster, tip almost always nudging your spot with every thrust as his lips caught yours in a weakened dance, there was a shift in the air and you knew he had finally relented on dragging it out.

"Come for me, darling. I want it all, give it to me."

The pleasure that bursted in your veins wasn't like the others from before. The ecstasy woke every nerve ending in your body alight, limbs growing weightless from the shock of pleasure from your orgasm as electric shocks reverberated from your core and to the tip of your fingers.

Your thighs convulsed violently and you screamed, arousal squirting to drench his stomach. Miguel's arms curled around you protectively as you shivered, whispering hushed affirmations in your ears while the impact of a long-denied orgasm shattered you.

"You did so well for me, mi vida. I’m here, no more of that."

Miguel soaked in your every moans and sobs as he murmured something you couldn't catch, mind far too foggy to process.

You didn't even realize that he didn't came, focused solely on comforting you through your high.

His racing heartbeat matched the pace of the throb in your head, you could hear your breathing echo in your ears yet in the state of exhaustion, you found it calming, melodic even. Miguel’s fingers that gave and tore your pleasure away now caressed the back of your head, gently as if you’ll break apart.

You could make out his chapped lips pressing kisses onto your temple as exhaustion won over your body, eyes falling shut with the melodic rhythm of his heartbeat lulled you to sleep.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader one shot #marvel fics #marvel smut #spiderman smut #spider man smut #spider man fics

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i23kazu · 1 year

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GENSHIN MEN & THEM BEING YOUR ROOMMATES .

characters. xiao kaeya diluc childe itto alhaitham kaveh x reader genre. romantic fluff, can be seen as platonic too, suggestiveness in itto's part an. ueueue... ueueue... ueueue | please reblog!! im getting back into writing and reblogs with tags and comments will make me want to write more :D

xiao

disappears during the day, comes back at night. your first text to your friend (when you arrived at the apartment) was "this guys like a midday batman kinnie lol" but he also somehow leaves everything spotless?? xiao barely spends time at home but in the five minutes that he actually does, all the dishes are washed and everything packed up... you're starting to think that he's a mary poppins kinnie instead

kaeya

he's a mess.. also kind of a slut at home in the sense that he unbuttons his pants the minute he steps through the door but his shirt is always long so. so. yeah. tbh he's not a very messy roommate, he just ends up leaving too many glass bottles behind that you have to clean up #notaslay #pickupyourowntrash #savetheearth

diluc

very nice roommate, adelinde comes over to clean the apartment once a week and when she does you literally go puppy eyed because she brings her cooking for the both of you. the fridge is always stocked with mama adelinde's food and the floors are always shining with her hard work. diluc does some of the dishes though i guess that counts

childe

good roommate. with his numerous siblings, he knows how to get stains and stuff off surfaces so hes the handy manny and bob the builder in the apartment. need something fixed up? he's got you. lightbulb has to be changed? he's reaching for the toolbox. your clock broke? can he fix it? yes he can

itto

worst. roommate. ever. every day you come home to find out that either he's a) passed out on the couch b) broken something at home c) had a secret arataki gang meeting and now the place is trashed d) didn't do his work etc etc the list goes on. you're considering kicking him out at this point but his badonkahonkas are so nice to look at ykwim

alhaitham

uhhhhh takes care of finances and taxes and all that boring adult stuff you have to do but alhaitham graciously does for you. makes you a cute little keyring that matches his and kaveh's and he doesn't hide yours!! or take yours!! 10/10 roommate, laugh at kaveh's misery together #youwillwalkalone jk you love kaveh to bits

kaveh

being roommates with him and alhaitham is genuinely so entertaining bc its a free reality tv show. "kaveh what is this behaviour" "im sorry i kicked it by mistake" <- he did not. but you and kaveh also play pranks on alhaitham to i guess that makes up for it?? idk kaveh does the dishes makes the food hashtag malewife i think

taglist: @tiredsleep @loptido @raincxtter @chichikoi @ladyadii @soulsanta @sheiiy @genshinparty @eowinthetraveler @moonbyunniee @lemonswriting @legitnoi @lemontum @manager-of-the-pudding-bank @niiheng @starz222 @ilyuu @cherry-colored-petals @mondaymelon @tartaglia-apologist @soleillunne @softcosmixs @ineshapanda @babypetuniaa (send ask to be added to taglist)

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gardenofnoah · 1 year

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i’m coming up on a year of having this blog and i thought i’d do something with this drabble that i can’t stop thinking about so. yeah! thanks for reading my little stories and saying such nice things to me for a whole year <3 love u

summary: in his 40s, touya isn’t expecting anything outside of his normal, comfortable routine. you come along and give him far more than he ever wanted. oddly enough, he doesn’t think he minds.

tags: MDNI, i’ll call this a medium burn, mentions of drinking, reader uses she/her pronouns and is called a lady,etc, age gap (unspecified but like 10 years--both are consenting adults), very little angst (like, the least i’ve ever written. this is just cute, if you can believe that.), smut (dry humping, oral), this is very much a comfort fic to me idk. wc: 10.1k

much to his utter disdain, Touya sees you everywhere after your first encounter. and often.

you have this awful habit of just popping up. in the stool next to him at the bar, with such regularity that his friends now joke about it being your stool, and then around town—everywhere he goes. it’s a small town, sure—but he still finds it ridiculous. even more ridiculous—the fact that you might be growing on him, despite all his resistance.

he doesn’t know when he started expecting you to hop up on that stool every friday. has no idea when he memorized your drink order, or when he started ordering it for you preemptively. this goes on every friday for weeks—until you don’t show up.

and he’s irritated then, because it makes him sore—where else could you possibly be?

“where’s your girl?”

“don’t know,” he mutters. he catches the smirk on his friend’s face out of the corner of his eye. “and she’s not my fuckin’ girl.”

that makes him laugh, and Touya turns away in a huff, face burning.

“sure she’s not.”

it’s another two weeks before he sees you. not that he was counting.

when he sees you again, it’s a tuesday, and he’s just wrapped up at his neighbor’s house. he carries two loaves of bread in one arm, and his toolbox in the other. the old woman had chased him out of there early, telling him, “it’s a nice night. go out there and find you someone!”. he snorts, kicking a bit of asphalt down the pavement. that old bat acts worse than his mother.

there are a few vendors lined up along the road, so he lets himself take his time—strolling casually, eyes raking over the stalls. it is a nice evening—warm, but the breeze is cool as it rustles through his hair. he sees a white tip from the corner of his eye and it almost startles him. it doesn’t matter how much distance he puts between himself and Dabi—it still surprises him when he realizes that he is not the same. physically or otherwise.

lost in his thoughts, he finds himself nearly home when he sees you in his peripheral, taking something from the merchant of the produce stall across the street. he has half a mind to turn and walk the opposite way (away from his house) just to avoid this interaction—still wholly irritated over wasting the $7 on your stupid little drink, and that’s all—but you seem to have a weird sixth sense when it comes to him, and your head snaps up in his direction right before he can make a break for it. you give him that stupid smile that he has to look away from, waving at him happily before you take off in his direction.

he considers if he still has time to flee, but then you’re there in front of him.

“Touya!” you beam up at him, totally ignoring the scowl he levels you with, “what are you doing here?”

“i live here,” he grumbles, looking away from you again, “what are you doing here?”

“ah, i visit my family on tuesdays. whatcha got there?”

he pointedly looks down at the bread in his arms, and back up at you. you’re looking at it a little too intensely, eyebrows scrunched together like you’re trying to figure something out—and then the moment’s gone, and you’re smiling up at him again.

“want to share?” you ask, holding up your bag of produce to him.

he doesn’t, but he finds himself next to you anyway, sitting on a retaining wall while you chatter away—kicking your feet out and handing him slices of an orange between your own bites.

he learns more about you. early 30s (so not as young as he’d guessed, but still young enough to make him cringe), living alone like he is. you grew up in town, moved away for a while, and then came back. you don’t really like sweets but you do like fruit—hence the overflowing tote bag full of it—and you’re more inclined to reach for tea than coffee. you own the little flower shop a few blocks down. he thinks it suits you—and then he shakes his head, trying to dislodge the thought.

“i’m having an issue with the floor though, so part of the shop has been blocked off for a few weeks. not great for the foot traffic, but what can you do,” you shrug absentmindedly, more focused on digging another piece of fruit out of your bag. you settle on a peach, and it’s quiet between you for a beat. as if waiting for the silence, the thought that he’d been holding back for the better part of an hour finds its way out of his mouth.

“haven’t seen you at the bar,” he mutters, picking a stringy bit of peel off the orange piece he’s been holding.

“huh? oh, yeah. i had a wedding order that i was working on. it was so….much,” you shudder like you went off to war instead. “why, did you miss me?”

he looks away, eyes narrowed in a scowl. “just was a waste of a drink, s’all.”

he regrets it as soon as it leaves his mouth.

“a drink? my—oh. wait.”

your eyes go wide—he should’ve known you’d catch on to the meaning behind his words and he wants to die—

“forget it—“

“Touya,” you cut him off, and he can hear your shit eating grin, “were you hoping to see me?”

he’s sure he’s gone bright red and resists the urge to recede into himself like a snail into a shell. now he’s irritated, because did you think your drink just magically appeared in front of you every friday? he can feel the smugness radiating off of you—you want him to say it. he huffs, still looking away from you.

“just…was a waste of money,” he grits out, knowing fully that he hasn’t worried about money in quite some time, “figured you’d be there.”

you hum, and he still can’t look at you. refuses to, actually.

“sorry, Touya,” you tell him, and it sounds so genuine that he finds himself turning to you, just to check—to make sure you’re not fucking with him. “i’ll be sure to let you know the next time i won't be there.”

he rolls his eyes at the way you’re smiling softly at him, always like you know something he doesn’t. he mumbles out a clipped “whatever” and he hates the way he sounds like he did when he was 23. you don’t pay it any mind though, right back to talking his ear off.

“so do you live, like, really alone? or do you have a pet? you strike me as a gerbil guy.”

he huffs out a laugh at that, caught wholly off guard at the thought of being the gerbil guy (have you seen him?) and you smile at the sound, clearly pleased with yourself.

“no gerbil. a dog,” he finally takes a bite of the orange he’s been cradling in his palm for the better half of the last 20 minutes. your eyes don’t leave him.

“mm. chihuahua,” you say solemnly, and he whips his head around to look at you, expression all twisted and incredulous.

“a big fuckin’ dog, you brat.”

you laugh at his outburst, seeming to get some sort of pleasure out of riling him up.

“can i meet him?”

he looks at you then, and you’re really laying it on thick—wide eyes blinking up at him, bottom lip jutted out in a little pout. he can’t find it in himself to say no to you. with a sigh, he pushes himself up from the wall.

“c’mon then.”

it’s a short walk to his place and you’re vibrating behind him. shoving his key into the lock, he hears the familiar thumping of a tail, at about the same frequency as your incessant excitement at his back—he wonders just what he’s done to attract this level of energy.

“wait a minute—he’s going to jump at you—“

“oh, who cares. let me see him!”

he shakes his head, swinging open the door. he sees his big oaf of a dog rear up to jump, and then—

and then his jaw drops, because for what may very well be the first time, his dog is suddenly sitting.

you squeal and the dog isn’t much better off—practically wiggling away from his spot on the floor and whining at the sight of you, but still sitting.

“Touya!” you laugh, shoving past him to throw your arms around the dog’s neck, squeezing him tightly, “i know this dog!”

“you—huh?”

“i—“ your own laugh cuts you off, giggling while the dog fights your grip to lick you directly on the face, “i know him! did you get him at the shelter in town?”

“…yeah?”

“oh man! i used to volunteer—i was there when he was dropped off. i was with him all the time—taught him some manners—but then i took that job out of town for a little bit, so i didn’t get to see him after that.”

Touya, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that his dog is sitting, can’t bring himself to formulate a coherent reply.

“oh, i was so worried about him,” you say quietly, hugging the dog tighter, “i’m really glad you have him. what did you name him?”

that snaps him out of it, and he looks away, sheepish.

“i—uh. didn’t.”

you blink at him, processing, and then you frown.

“are you kidding me?”

he shrugs, looking at the dog— who, also for the first time, seems to be glaring at him with the same sentiment.

you sigh, shaking your head. “that won’t do,” you mutter, more to the dog than to him. “i think i called him Buck.”

as if on cue, Buck’s tail thumps against the floor.

“why?”

“not sure,” you say, scratching behind a fuzzy ear, “he just reminded me a little bit of a deer.”

Touya scoffs, completely in the dark as to how the two were even remotely similar.

“alright. Buck it is, then.”

you smile, patting the dog on the head as if he’d done anything worth rewarding. with a sigh you get to your feet, stretching a bit.

“i really do have to go see my family now,” you tell him, and he swears he hears a tiny bit of regret in your voice, “but thanks for letting me see Buck.”

he only nods, watching you bend down to kiss Buck square on his stupid blockhead.

“see you Friday?”

he swallows thickly, nodding again. your eyes are too bright.

“okay. see you, Touya.”

“hey,” he stops himself from reaching for you as you go to open the door, “i can…look at that floor for you. if y’want.”

every time he thinks he’s used to the way you just throw your emotions around like live grenades, he’s not—you smile at him so brightly he thinks you might just kill him.

you have a hunch that Touya is secretly a really good guy.

it’s almost endearing—how hard he tries to be so prickly—but it’s always all for naught, because he can’t help but go out of his way to do things for you.

you don’t know what to call the relationship—you gathered enough information from hushed whispers to his friends anytime he left his stool at the bar to know that he pointedly did not seek out the affections of women (“or men,” one of his friends said with a shrug, like they weren’t really sure). you weren’t clear on where that left you, so you were content to keep learning what you could about him—to stick around, as long as he tolerated you.

and he just barely does that, but you have a hunch it’s a farce. especially when take out cups full of freshly steeped tea start appearing on your counter in the shop, more days than not.

you lean against the wood top, sipping today's tea with both hands to warm yourself while you watch Touya work. autumn was in full swing now, and you had some difficulty keeping the shop to your preferred level of warmth, but it didn’t seem to bother him. your eyes linger on the hem of his old t-shirt, rising up in the back just a little when he reached for a different tool. it was obvious that time had softened him a bit, but he was still in shape. your vision followed the faded, looping scar that moved with the curl of his bicep as he worked each tool. it was hard not to stare.

it was even harder to get away with it.

“you’ll burn a hole in my head, brat.”

“just checking your work,” you tell him through a grin. trying very hard to feign nonchalance.

“oh yeah?” Touya looks at you over his shoulder, smirking at you. you feel it bodily. “what’s the verdict?”

“looks….” you pause, examining the array of tools and the sizable hole he’s created in the floor, “yeah. yep. like good work.”

he scoffs, shaking his head and turning back to the task at hand. you resist the urge to slam your head off the counter—settling for tapping in lightly as reprimand for your less than intelligent response.

you decide that the best way to get the embarrassment to dissipate is to do the thing that is quickly becoming your favorite activity: bothering him.

“pick a color.”

“what?”

“i said pick a color, grandpa.”

the sigh he lets out makes you laugh. “you fuckin’—fine. red. what’re you doing?”

you smile at him, and you watch him flush. it makes you giddy.

“nothing,” you drawl, sing-songy and incriminating, “don’t you worry your little heart about it.”

“you are the worry to my little heart,” he deadpans, not bothering to look up from the measurement he’s taking.

another thing you learn about Touya—he’s got a bit of a (dry) sense of humor. he seems to enjoy making you laugh.

there’s a lull in customers and you use it to your advantage—you go around to every bucket to ensure that each cut stem is submerged, and take out the wilted ones to dry. you don’t sell those ones—you just hang them up around the shop. you think it’s better not to waste them.

you also pull out some good looking red ones, as inconspicuous as you can—you gather a tulip, a few poppies, a peony, and a big, variegated chrysanthemum for the center.

you hold the makeshift bouquet behind your back as you approach Touya—padding over to him quietly until you’re close enough to lean into his space.

“whatcha thinking about?”

he spares you a pointed glance over his shoulder. “pest control.”

“har har,” you plop down right next to him, grinning at the way he bristles. of course it’s all for show—he doesn’t move an inch.

“made you something.”

“hm?”

you bring the bouquet out from behind your back, brandishing it in front of him dramatically. “tada!”

his eyes go wide—you see it take a minute for him to process that you’re giving him a gift. he sets his tools down and reaches for it, tentatively, like you’re going to fake him out at the last second. you meet him halfway, setting it in his hands.

“well?” you ask after a minute, “what do you think? i do pretty well, right?”

he’s quiet—turning the flowers over and back again, like he’s committing all of the little petals to memory. “what are they?”

you tell him about each flower—where they grow naturally, what conditions they like to live in, how to take care of them. he listens intently, never looking away from them.

“you don’t have to keep them,” you tell him after another moment of silence, “it was just a silly thing.”

“no,” he says, firmly. he looks at you out of the corner of his eye and lets out a breath, looking back down at the flowers. “s’nice. thanks.”

you have to physically stop yourself from jumping up and cheering.

“you’re welcome, old man,” you murmur, nudging his shoulder with your own.

he groans, grumbling a lighthearted “get away from me” as he shoves you back playfully. you let out some sort of dramatic squeal as you topple over, and you don’t miss the tiny smile that stretches across his face as he sets the flowers down next to him and gets back to work.

customers come in and out throughout the afternoon—most not paying any mind to Touya as he works. there are a few customers that eye him hesitantly—and there are one or two that stare pointedly at the scars that split his face. it feels like second nature to drop the customer service persona then—and to do things like drop their change on the counter and revel in the way they scramble to catch it before it rolls off onto the floor.

“have the best day,” you say to one particularly rude customer, all but shooing her out of the door.

Touya huffs out a laugh when you walk back toward him. “didn’t think you had it in you, kid.”

you cock an eyebrow at him. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“surprised you didn’t kick out her kneecaps on the way out.”

“yeah, well,” you huff, waving a hand at the thought of someone so dreadfully rude, “she would’ve deserved it.”

“why’s that?”

you meet his eyes, then, and for the first time since you met him you think about the fact that they’ve seen terrible things. you knew of Touya, of course—all of Japan did. you knew he’d been through something awful and did things that you couldn’t imagine the man in front of you doing now. you know that he would not be surprised if you told him the reason why you felt she deserved it. you wonder if it bothers him the way it bothers you, or if time has hardened him to his own mistreatment.

“don’t worry about it,” you tell him, walking back behind the counter.

you haven’t seen much of Touya for the last few weeks.

you’d gotten another big order—what would probably be one of the last before winter really set in— so you were busy. he’d stop by sometimes with the excuse of checking the floor (and always with a tea for you in hand), but you learn that he’s uncomfortable with lingering, and he’s usually gone as quickly as he came.

you don’t mind—it’s nice to know he’s thinking of you. you’ve just been wondering if it’s in the way you want him to—and a lot more than you should be, lately.

you concede to having a little crush on him. who wouldn’t? he’s incredibly sweet in his own way and very nice to look at and you suppose anyone would if they’d gotten the opportunity to get to know him over the several months that you have. so what if you’re thinking about where he’s at or if he’s eaten lunch or if he’s at the bar without you, more often than not? it’s just a little secret you keep to yourself.

you try not to think about how it’s one that would make him never speak to you again if he found out about it.

you let out a groan, looking down at the half-formed bundle of alstroemeria and eucalyptus in your hands. you’d been staring at it for 20 minutes now and the motivation to continue just wasn’t coming. you suppose it was as good of a time as any to take a break.

standing up from the floor and stretching your arms above your head, your spine rewards you with a few satisfying pops as you get yourself moving again. your eyes scan the shop, surveying the damage—most of it caused by you in the last few weeks, with scraps of paper wrap and loose stems strewn about. the shop could definitely use a deep cleaning, but little things like that were just part of routine upkeep, so you don’t mind. it’s only when you roll out your neck that you spot it: a tiny, but noticeable, brown stain on the ceiling that certainly wasn’t there before. you lift your phone above your head to snap a picture of it.

sent 5:57pm>>> hi. do you think this is a big deal

received 5:59pm>>> looks like water damage

received 5:59pm>>> when did that happen?

sent 6:00 pm>>> not sure. just saw it

sent 6:00 pm>>> if i just pretend it’s not there will it go away?

received 6:01 pm>>> that ever worked for you before?

sent 6:04 pm>>> i don’t like your tone

received 6:06 pm>>> cry about it. i’ll be over to look at it tomorrow

you smile at his brashness, setting your phone down on the counter. it really was very hard to not be enamored by him. you shake your head, trying to get rid of the thought like a wrong answer in a magic 8 ball. you have no such luck, but you realize what time it is and feel relieved. It’s tuesday—you can finally start getting ready to see your family.

you clean up and pull on the spare coat you have in the shop storage room, locking the shop door behind you as you leave. your grandparents don’t live far—just a mile or so down the road, and it’s not too cold to walk yet, so you don’t mind the trek.

you have a standing weekly visit at your grandparents’ place. they’re just about the only family you have left, and they’re slowing down a bit. it’s meaningful to you to spend time with them when you can—even if your grandmother insists on filling it with her insistence that you find a boyfriend.

you know she means well, so you tolerate it. your grandparents’ love story is one for the ages—high school sweethearts, together and in love ever since. the dynamic is an amusing one—your grandmother, ever the chatterbox, and your grandfather, only ever amused and endeared by his wife’s inherent ability to take up space. you have always really admired their relationship, but a small part of you believed for a long time that there was something wrong with you for not being able to have the same thing. now that you’re older, you don’t feel that way—but that doesn’t make being on the receiving end of the badgering any easier.

like you’ve summoned her with your thoughts, she’s on the front stoop when you approach the house—hand already on her hip like she’s winding up to start her lecture.

“i was starting to think you wouldn’t come!”

“am i late?” you ask genuinely, pulling your phone out to check the time. 6:26pm—you’re early.

“you might as well be!” she quips, pulling you into a hug. you can smell dinner cooking through the open window behind her. you close your eyes, content to be held in the moment. you miss this feeling of home every time you leave—

“alright you old bat, s’fixed. you gotta quit dumping cooking oil down the—oh.”

your eyes snap open at the familiar voice and you find blue eyes staring back at you, shocked as you’ve ever seen them. you blink, still mid-embrace and trying to comprehend why Touya is standing in your grandmother’s doorway. or why he’s a little sweaty and dirty and wearing that tight old t-shirt. if he’s always worn a bandana to keep the hair out of his eyes, or if that’s a new thing and either way, why haven’t you seen it? it takes another long minute before you remember how to get words to come out of your mouth.

“i–uh. hi...hi Touya.” you stutter a little, and your grandmother notices that you’ve gone completely rigid in her arms. she pulls away to look at you, and then at Touya, and back to you—

and your stomach drops when you see the most shit eating grin spread across her face.

you give her your best you wouldn’t dare look.

she just smiles at you sweetly as if to say: i absolutely would.

“do you have dinner plans, Mr. Todoroki?”

he blinks. “i–uh–”

“no? excellent. go wash up! you can join us.”

she starts back up to the door with more pep in her step than you’ve seen in a long time, patting Touya’s shoulder before shoving him unceremoniously to the side with surprising strength and walking back into the house.

you’re left out there together, both clearly still trying to play catch up. true to your nature, you’re the first to break the silence.

“i see you’ve met my grandmother,” you say with a laugh, starting up the steps. he shakes himself in time to open the door for you.

“you’re related to that dinosaur?”

you pin him with your best glare. “that’s not nice. she came after the dinosaurs.”

he follows in after you, the smallest smirk on his face. that you caused it makes your chest feel light.

dinner is relatively tame. to your genuine surprise, your grandmother sticks to easy topics, save for one comment about how you’re “getting up there” and should start thinking about children.

“oh my god, Mam,” you squeeze the bridge of your nose, exasperated. you look to Touya for help—who is clearly very amused and not interested in saving you from this.

“i’m just saying,” you grandmother waves a dismissive hand at you, “now who wants dessert?”

you leave the house a few hours later—with Touya in tow, because he refused to let you walk home in the dark by yourself. you certainly don’t mind the company.

“i can’t believe i didn’t put it together that you knew my grandparents,” you say, shaking your head. no wonder those bread loaves, months ago now, had looked so familiar.

“been helpin’ them out with maintenance stuff around the house,” he mutters, the hands in his pockets the only indication that he feels the evening chill, “they’re good people.”

the way that he talks about them makes you feel warm. “i’m really happy to hear that,” you sigh. you bump into him, and he stays close. “i’m sorry you have to put up with all of my grandmother’s antics though.”

he huffs a laugh, looking at you from the corner of his eye, “s’not so bad. except maybe when she’s trying to arrange a marriage for me with half the town.”

“oh god,” you turn to him in absolute horror, “she does that to you, too? i thought it was just because i’m her grandkid. she really wants to have great grandkids.”

he laughs when you shudder. “what, you’re not gonna give ‘em to her?”

you make a face at that. “no. kids are great, just…not really something i ever wanted.”

you think you see him physically deflate with something akin to relief out of the corner of your eye. you smile and try not to read into it.

the wind picks up and you shiver. Touya blinks down at you.

“you didn’t think to wear a thicker coat?”

you roll your eyes pointedly at him. “no, dad, i didn’t.”

he scowls at you, clearly not entertained, but then he’s shrugging off his own jacket and draping it over your shoulders.

“what are you doing? it’s too cold!”

“s’fine,” he mutters, brushing up against you with each step, “can’t really feel it.”

you go quiet while you consider this, eyes drifting to the textured skin that wraps around his bicep. there’s an ache in your chest that flares up whenever you think about Touya, small and proud and burned within an inch of his life. you wonder if he still feels it, 30 some odd years later. you want to reach for him, but you think better of it.

“do they hurt still?” you ask quietly, after a moment.

“sometimes.”

you get the sense that he wouldn’t mind if you asked more, but you’re not sure what to say. you don’t think it would be fair to ask him to relive any of it to satisfy your own curiosity. there’s just one thing you’d still like to know.

“are you angry?”

he gives you a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes when he looks down at you. his gaze is searching, like he’s looking for your fear—fear of him, of what he’s done. you know he won’t find any.

“no.”

the rest of the walk home is shrouded in comfortable silence, save for the crunch of shoes against pavement. all too quickly you’re at the door to the shop again.

you dig for the keys for your apartment on the second floor while Touya leans against the door frame, watching you.

you feel the metal dig into your palm when you close your fist around them. you look back up at him, and it’s almost startling how soft he looks right now. unguarded.

“can i hug you?” you ask, startling yourself a little. he’s so clearly not a touchy guy, but you hope he’ll indulge you—just this once.

his eyes widen for a fraction of a second, and then his face smooths back into his practiced stoicism. he rolls his eyes, but steps forward anyway. you feel like you just won the lottery.

“make it quick, brat.”

you nearly tackle him in your excitement and you hear him grumble next to your ear. you feel an arm loop around your shoulders, and you are suddenly very aware that your little crush is far larger than you thought. you file it away for later, because the beat of his heart against your ear feels far more important right now. everything about him is warm—you stifle a sigh at the immediate comfort that rolls over you like a wave.

“now go inside before y’get sick.”

you resist the urge to pout. you stay there for another beat—and he doesn’t move either.

you untangle yourself from him with a sigh. if you didn’t know any better, you’d interpret the look on his face as something close to disappointment. you start shrug your shoulders out of his jacket to hand it back to him, but he stops you.

“just, ah—” he starts, looking away from you, “give it back to me tomorrow. when i fix your fuckin’ mess.”

you raise an eyebrow, posturing to argue, but something in his expression tells you not to.

“okay,” you say finally, quiet between you, “be careful going home. goodnight, Touya.”

he lingers for a moment more before letting out a little grunt and turning on his heel. your eyes trail over the expanse of his shoulders as he grows fainter down the road until he disappears into the dark.

you drag yourself up the stairs, suddenly feeling exhausted. you stumble through the dark of your apartment until your knees knock into your bed frame. you fall into bed face first, not bothering to change or even get under the covers. still wrapped in the jacket that smells like him.

you dream of fire that warms but doesn’t burn.

“good morning, Mr. Todoroki.”

Touya nearly comes out of his skin, hissing as he hits his head off of the counter he’s crouched under. it would be impressive, how stealthy the old bat was, if it wasn’t so god damned annoying.

“how many times do i have to tell you not to call me that?” he grumbles, rubbing the sore spot on the back of his head as he gets to his feet. she only chuckles.

“you’ll have to forgive me for not addressing you with the same familiarity that my granddaughter does.”

he whips his head around to look at her—which he finds to be a mistake, because she’s just looking at him with that knowing old lady smirk that makes his skin itch.

“don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” he mutters, stooping down to lodge himself as far under the counter as he needs to to avoid the rest of this conversation.

“oh, please. do i look like i was born yesterday?”

he pauses, mid crouch, to look back at her over his shoulder. she clicks her tongue at him. “don’t answer that.”

“i think it would be nice for you both to have…companionship,” she settles on the last word like it’s not really what she wanted to say, and it reminds him far too much of his mother. usually he’d shut this conversation down, but for a reason unknown to him, he doesn’t.

“don’t y’think i’m a little too old for her?” he asks, half-joking. he’d be a liar to say that he hadn’t thought about it at length.

she waves a dismissive hand at him, rolling her eyes. “oh please—you wouldn’t know too old if it hit you upside the head.”

he hides another smirk from her—which she seems to expect anyway, shaking her head with a sigh.

“you’re both babies still,” she says quietly, with all of the wisdom and yearning of someone who has lived as long as she has, “you have nothing but time. just don’t waste it.”

Touya’s not sure when the shift happened, but he’s acutely aware that it has happened.

he’s doesn’t know when he started allowing you to touch him. he’s usually uncomfortable with that sort of thing—it tends to aggravate his skin and it does well to make him feel queasy. but you lay your arm over his to show him something about your flowers on your phone, and he doesn’t feel any urge to reel back from you. he wants to be surprised at his lack of reaction, but he supposes he’s not—proximity to him has always been something you’ve insisted on, physical or otherwise.

the bar is crowded tonight, which leaves him feeling uneasy. the noise level grates at his nerves and he finds himself having to lean into you just to hear what you’re saying. it sours his mood immensely.

he’s scowling into his beer when he feels you crowd his space. his head snaps up, ready to gripe at you, and he finds you’re turned away from him. he looks around you and sees that your space has been crowded—by some rowdy little punk he’s never seen before.

immediately and on some sort of primal instinct, Touya wraps an arm around you, yanking you into his side. you brace yourself with a hand on his chest to avoid flat out headbutting his chin.

“hey,” he snarls over your head, eyes like daggers at the offender, “watch where you’re fuckin’ going.”

the man turns around, posturing to defend himself, but one look at Touya has his eyes widening in the same expression of fear that he sees on everyone else’s face. usually the reaction sits in his stomach like a rock, but this time, he revels in it. “and while you’re at it, you can apologize to her.”

his looks down at the ground immediately, unwilling to spend another minute under scrutiny.

“sorry about that,” he mutters dejectedly. Touya feels your grip tighten around the hem of his shirt, but to his surprise, you say nothing.

“get the fuck out of here,” he barks, and he holds back a laugh as the man does just that—completely forgetting about the drink he ordered.

shaking his head, he lets you go—expecting you to scramble away from him and back to your stool. he feels himself cringe—he probably embarrassed you.

he’s worried when he realizes you’re still tethered to him by the fabric of his shirt.

“hey,” he murmurs, trying to push you back gently to look at your face, “you alright, kid? you’re not hurt, are you?”

you let go of him, albeit reluctantly. you only move back far enough to tilt your head back to meet his eyes. he can only think of how close you are.

“Touya,” you rasp, cheeks flushed and looking at him through half-hooded eyes, “that was, um—really hot.”

he blinks at you, a little dumbfounded. his eyes rake over your face, trying to find the punchline somewhere. wholly anticipating you to snap out of it and laugh at him—to tell him what a fool he is for falling for such a cruel joke.

but your expression never changes, and he realizes at once that it’s one of desire.

a shudder wracks up his spine. he pulls you toward him again, splaying his fingers across your back to feel the way it arches into him. he dips his head down, lips next to your ear. fighting a smirk at the way you shiver in his hold.

“come back to mine?”

you nod emphatically, and he’d tease you about it if he wasn’t feeling the same level of urgency. he throws a couple bills on the bar top and all but hauls you out the door. he has no idea what he’s doing, but he’s half out of his mind right now and can’t find it within himself to think it over before he does something he might regret.

his own desire is nearly stifling, and he finds he can’t go another minute without something to satiate him, if only for a moment. he pulls you into the alley next to the bar, crowding you against the brick.

“you drunk?” he asks suddenly—slivers of rationality making it through the haze of such thick lust. you laugh a little, breathy and overwhelmed. he can see the puff of steam from your exhale between you in the cold.

“not at all,” you murmur, reaching for him. you wrap a finger around one of his belt loops and pull him toward you—he knows with an unsettling certainty that he’d do whatever you asked him to right now. the knowledge burns him from the inside.

“tell me to stop,” his lips are only a breath away from yours, and yet he almost wishes you would tell him to stop, because he’s not sure what comes after this. he’s alarmed by the weight of his own need, and he has a hunch that whatever happens next may not be enough to quell it.

he has the sudden and sobering thought that he may never get his fill of you.

“no,” you breathe, and it’s all he needs to bridge the distance. he’s instantly overwhelmed by the soft warmth of your mouth, and lets out a quiet groan when he feels your tongue swipe at the seam of his. he opens his mouth to taste more of you, and he truly cannot get enough. you pull his tongue into your mouth, sucking on it gently, and he is nearly frantic when he pulls away from you. he feels absolutely debauched and a little humiliated—in his 40-some odd years, he’s never known himself to get so worked up over some kissing.

“we need to go right now,” he rasps, panting against your mouth. he feels your smile against him and wants to swallow you whole.

“lead the way, old man.”

he barely registers making it through the door—has no idea how he managed to unlock it, let alone open it—before he has you pressed up against it. to touch you like this feels foreign, and he wants to feel everything. after a moment, he gets impatient with himself. he grabs you around the backs of your thighs, hauling you up and carrying you to his bedroom. he has half a mind to thank Buck later, for not bounding between the two of you and ripping him from whatever trance you have him suspended in right now.

he drops you onto the bed unceremoniously and is quick to follow, mouth chasing yours on the way down. you pull your shirt off and he helps you with your pants—he can’t help but pull back to marvel at you.

your demeanor changes immediately.

you're entirely too tense, breath hitching and your grip on his arms uncomfortably tight. he pulls back to look at you and you flinch.

“jesus—the fuck are you so jumpy for?”

"i don't know!" you cross your arms over your chest with a huff, red when you look away from him. "maybe i just don't do this as often as you, okay?"

he snorts, rolling his eyes. "i don't do this often."

it’s not exactly the truth—because the truth is that he doesn't do this at all—but he's still got his pride. he’d been touched before, but mostly in his 20s and only when he was just shy of belligerent. only when he could go numb with the certainty that it would be over quickly and that he wouldn’t remember it in the morning.

no one could hold a flame to you, though—sprawled out underneath him, chest heaving and eyes hooded with unbridled desire. something about it makes him want to reach into the ether and stop time with his bare hands. he wants to savor every bead of sweat that rolls down the curve of your breast, every touch that makes your pupils dilate—the primal need to know takes over everything else.

“i just…” you start, lip jutting out with the tiniest pout. he feels insane. “i feel nervous.”

something inside him twists at your admission, and he finds himself wanting to comfort you. it’s a completely unfamiliar feeling, but he leans into it.

"relax," he murmurs, unwinding your arms and replacing them with his full body weight, directly on top of you. you squeak, and he presses his smile into the crook of your neck. "don't have to do anything you're not ready for."

he feels you slump underneath him—however minutely—and it feels like a reward. and then your hips kick into his, and his brain short circuits.

he pushes back onto his forearms to look at you, and he's endeared by the flush that creeps up your neck as you avoid his gaze. he finds it cute, how quickly you lay your ego down for him. that in itself is another reward, and one he doesn't take lightly.

you might be a little embarrassed under his stare, but that doesn't stop the roll of your hips. yours is a slow grind up into him and he meets you with one of his own, firm and demanding. your mouth drops open and the way you shudder under him pulls a groan from him.

"feel good?" he rasps, sneaking a hand around the back of your neck and holding you there, nosing against your cheek until you turn to him.

"yes."

it's borderline pornographic when it leaves you and his hips stutter—he feels it buzzing underneath his skin as it pushes him closer to a place wholly unfamiliar.

through his jeans, he's sure you can feel him—hot and aching against the flimsy material of your panties. he huffs a laugh against your lips—suddenly acutely aware of the possibility that he may cum in his pants like a fucking teenager.

you seem to be aware of that, too.

you kiss him hard and he nearly whines, and then he actually does when you tangle your fingers in his hair and pull. he reels back from you to catch his breath and you don't let him go very far.

"you feel so good," murmured into his mouth, it's nearly his undoing.

"you gotta stop," it sounds a lot like a plea when it leaves him, "i can't—i'm gonna—”

you hook a leg around his waist, keeping him pressed to you. he knows at once that he is well and truly fucked in a fundamental and totally unrelated way.

"no," you drawl, and it's almost a coo in his ear, "i don't think i will."

he doesn't know when you took the upper hand and he doesn't even care. he's lost in the movement of your hips and he knows that there's a mess between you both—he hears the tacky click of damp fabric meeting with every grind into you.

"you're—fuckin' wet," he grits out, and he's so close. the knowledge of your arousal has him curling in on himself.

you chuckle, like he's stating something so obvious. "how could i not be?"

he rewards you with a particularly sinful thrust, and you keen underneath him.

"please," you arch into him, "want you to cum."

and he does just that—all the breath is battered out of him with the force of it. his cock throbs with every wave of release in his jeans and he keeps himself pressed snuggly to you, hips thrusting with no particular rhythm as he rides out the last of it. he keeps his face pressed into your neck and lets out a long, broken groan. he stays there—full body weight collapsed on top of you again—and it's a moment before he comes back to his senses enough to feel your fingers scratch over his scalp.

"fucking hell," he presses a kiss to your throat and you giggle. it warms something inside of him that's hard to shake once it starts. he has the sneaking suspicion—in this fleeting moment of vulnerability—that it started well before now.

he gathers his wits and pushes back from you. he sees the look on your face and finds that he couldn't go any farther than an arm's length away, even if he tried.

adoration. it could only be that—you look at him like he hung the stars in the sky, and it twists in his gut. he doesn't understand—he's done so many wrong things. you look at him like they don't hang above his head—like you can't see them there.

what a sweet little thing that's found their way into his bed. and deeper than that, it seems.

"want to taste you," he murmurs, leaning back down to drag his lips over the curve of your jaw. you draw in a shuddering breath, nodding, and it fans his ego immensely.

he takes his time, then—there's intention behind every warm press of his mouth to every inch of your skin. he takes note of the way your breath hitches, and of what makes you squirm. you tip your head back with a moan when he catches a bead of sweat between the valley of your breasts with his tongue.

you breathe out a whisper of his name when he latches on to the skin that stretches over your ribs, and he feels his own arousal swell again—sloshing around in his gut, thick and needing. he finds himself grinding his hips into the mattress below him—lazy, really. just enough to dull the ache.

"hold on," you croak, and he looks up at you, "you’re too dressed."

he looks down at himself and realizes that you’re right—he’s still fully clothed. he huffs out a laugh, shaking his head at his own one track mind, and sits up to take care of it.

he grabs the back of his t-shirt and pulls it over his head in a fluid motion. he feels your gaze on him and feels a little bashful. he’s even quicker with the jeans—soiled and gross as they are now—shoving them down his hips and kicking them from his ankles until his clad in only his (also gross) boxers and leaning over you again.

you reach for him, brushing your fingertips over the scar across his chest. he half expects you to pull away—to recoil from him like you should—but you don’t.

“need you, Touya.”

he could just die.

"s'that right?" he bends down to press another hot kiss to the skin that stretches between your hips. he fixates on the softness of it, and has to stop himself from nuzzling into it. he'd love to draw this out—to really get you pleading for him like he hopes you would, writhing and so wet underneath him. but his own patience nears its end, so he decides to be merciful. he shuffles down until he's eye level with the damp spot in your panties that makes him curse under his breath.

"look at you," he breathes, dragging a finger through the mess. you let out a whine, arching to chase what little stimulation he's giving you. "poor thing. y'really do need it."

he doesn't wait for your response before his hooking a finger through the fabric and dragging it off of you. a string of your arousal stretches and snaps with it, and he commits the sight to memory.

he wastes no time—he sticks his tongue out flat and drags it through your folds, groaning at the slick that coats it.

"oh fuck," you wheeze, reaching down to thread your fingers through his hair to keep him there.

as if you'd ever need to do that.

he can't get enough of you. so swollen and sweet against his tongue, he's nearly out of his mind with the need for more of it. he dips the tip of his tongue inside you and feels you squeeze around it, and it's unbearable how badly he wants more of you.

"Touya," you groan out, eyes squeezed shut tight as he pulls your clit into his mouth and sucks, "please—please don't stop—"

he thinks you're fucking insane for ever believing he would. he pulses his tongue against your clit and revels in the way your back arches as you wail—he reaches up to pinch a pebbled nipple between his heated fingers just to feel you.

"oh fuck, fuck fuck—" the words tumble out of your mouth, slurred and nearly incoherent as he flattens out his tongue and lets you chase your pleasure.

in the throes of it, you reach down to tangle your fingers between his own. he's not sure if you even know that you've done it, but the knowledge that you seek him out for such an innocent display comfort has his heart fluttering in his chest. he gives your nipple a particularly harsh tug with his other hand.

"oh i'm gonna cum—" you cry, hips stuttering with every drag of your sex over his tongue, "please, Touya, i'm gonna—"

he squeezes your fingers when you do, and you let out a sob that goes straight to his cock. he feels you tense up—every muscle rigid for only a moment—and then you let it go, and he's mesmerized. it moves through you violently, like waves crashing into the shore during a storm. he keeps your clit between his lips as you thrash, letting you buck against his face, dragging it out for as long as he can.

he waits until he hears your breathing return to a semi-normal pace before he cleans you up—with his tongue, light and gentle through your folds, not wanting to waste any of the mess you reward him with. he forgets himself and slips his tongue inside of you—drinking up all of your slick. basking in the way you flutter around him and the sweet slide of you down his throat. he only comes back to himself when you start to tremble, whining at the overstimulation.

he rests his head on the inside of your thigh and closes his eyes, breathing you in. never in his life has he ever felt so satiated by something—it confuses him, to get so much pleasure from you without you ever even touching him. he feels you squeeze his fingers and realizes he's still holding your hand.

"you with me, kid?"

you sigh, stretching your free leg out. "think so, old man."

he untangles your fingers to rub at your leg, reaching down to knead at the muscles in your calf. you sigh, light and content, and it makes him smile. it's quiet between you then, and he's grateful that you don't feel the need to fill it. he pulls your leg over his shoulder, moving to massage the outside of your thigh.

"good to me," you sigh sleepily, and he knows you're only a second from falling asleep.

he doesn't answer—his throat suddenly feels too thick and he doesn't think he can—he just keeps rubbing your muscles gently until your breathing evens out.

he finds that he doesn't mind being trapped between your legs like this. when he thinks he might even be able to fall asleep, he realizes for the second time that he's in far deeper than he thought he'd be.

he lets his eyes flutter closed and has a hard time thinking of anything wrong with that.

there’s another shift, after that. the only person that seems to be oblivious to it is you.

it’s not that you haven’t noticed, because of course you have. Touya becomes uncharacteristically touchy, literally overnight. you bask in it when you can, because you know it’s fleeting.

that’s where you split off from, well—everyone else.

“c’mon kid, you can’t honestly think that.”

you huff, glaring into your drink. Touya’s friends had jumped at the opportunity to heckle you the minute he stood up to go to the restroom. you find it endearing, the way they act like little old ladies, gossiping amongst themselves.

“we’re not together,” you repeat, albeit bitterly, “it’s not like that for him.”

the friend closest to you barks out a laugh, and you pin him with your meanest stare. it only makes him laugh harder. he’s wiping tears from his eyes when Touya comes back, filling the space between you.

it hurts tremendously to know that this is temporary, and you feel ridiculous for feeling that way. it’s not like it comes as a surprise—you knew very well that Touya wasn’t one for romance or love. you thought you could live with that, especially with the sex being as good as it is—but it was just so easy to believe the opposite was true, because he really was good to you. if you allowed yourself to forget, it was nothing at all to pretend he was because he wanted this, too.

still—like a magnet, you’re drawn to him. you hop down from your stool to stand beside his, and rest your head on his shoulder.

“you hungry?,” he turns to murmur into your hair, “i’ll get you fries or somethin’.”

“wow, fries” you scoff, rolling your eyes, “how chivalrous.”

you feel him grin. “wasn’t raised in a barn.”

it’s a bad joke. it lodges itself in your skin and makes you ache for him. you try not to dwell on it.

“you could’ve fooled me.”

he rolls his eyes back at you with a little tch, but it’s lighthearted. he slings his arm around your neck and pulls you closer until you’re pressed into the warmth of his side, and presses a kiss to your temple.

“you know, most men would give up their seats for pretty women.” you tease, leaning into his touch.

“let me know if you see one, then.”

“hey!”

he laughs, brushing his lips against your forehead again before leaning back, patting his thigh.

“c’mon then, pretty lady.”

you feel warm as you climb up into his lap, and when you settle in, it’s like a key inside of a lock. you pointedly ignore the knowing glance from the man to your right, choosing instead to feel every inch that connects you to Touya. it feels like a reward, to mold to him this well—like something you’re owed after trimming off every one of his prickly little thorns for as long as you have. you want to tell him so, but you know he’d clam up or shove you off of him. you keep your feelings where they simmer under your skin and focus on the way his hand trails over the curve of your hip—back and forth, like he means to soothe, but his warmth feels like a brand. you close your eyes and imagine a reality in which he does it because he loves you.

“you alright?”

it sounds odd, coming from him—like he’s not used to asking the question. you suppose he’s not—he’s never had anyone to check up on. he reaches to brush a strand of hair from your face, and his fingers linger over your brow bone.

you’d been quiet since you left the bar—you’d followed him back to his house with an uncharacteristically little amount of banter. you’d been pliant as he pulled you down on the bed with him—nearly boneless and without so much as a teasing bite on the way down.

despite yourself, you feel your eyes start to burn. you let out a clipped curse, blinking rapidly and looking pointedly away from him—hoping he wouldn’t press you about it.

he does.

“hey, hey,” he says softly, reaching to grab your chin with warm, calloused fingers and turning you to face him, “what’s goin’ on?”

his blatant concern makes it worse—drives the knife a little deeper into your side—because it’s so starkly different (and far more intimate) from the Touya you started with. it only serves as a reminder of your original suspicion having long been confirmed—that he cares for you because he’s good. not because he loves you. not because he feels this unbearable, aching need that you do. you know there’s no escaping him now—he’s seeded himself somewhere deep in your chest and taken root. when his thumb brushes down over the curve of your jaw, you know that there’s no stopping the words that are about to come out of your mouth.

“i love you,” the tears crest and fall, and you ache when he brushes them away before they can slip down your temples, “i’m really sorry.”

you’re a little surprised when you see his eyebrows knit together slightly in an emotion that’s definitely not the overt and immediate dismay you thought it would be, but you close your eyes before you can see anything else—before you can watch him pull away from you, genuinely and for the last time.

you go rigid when you feel his forehead knock into yours, gently and only for an instant.

“s’that such a bad thing?”

your eyes snap open, and you think the sight might kill you—he’s open and giving you everything with a willingness that makes your breath stutter in your chest. he has his head propped up on his hand to look at you, and it’s almost enough to disarm you completely.

“don’t be cruel if you’re going to leave,” you hear yourself plead, despite what you’re seeing. he only snorts.

“and what makes you so sure i’ll do that?”

“i know that you don’t do this shit.”

he smiles at that—a little thing that stretches across his face slow. it amuses him to hear you swear.

“you’re right,” he murmurs, reaching to brush his fingers over your jaw again. holding you there so gently that it aches. “i don’t. s’different now, though.”

you blink at him through the sting in your eyes, more confused than anything. he lets out a slow sigh, but it’s not in frustration.

“you’re stuck to me now,” he says with such a fondness that you feel the words stick themselves to your bones, “m’not going anywhere.”

“i’m not trapping you here, Touya—“

“you’re not,” he agrees, with more patience than he’s ever afforded you. something starts to click in your mind, but for some reason, you find yourself fighting it.

“you don’t—you’re not—“

“hey,” he cuts you off with a flick to your forehead, “listen to what i’m tellin’ you.”

“it’s…hard. for me.” he says after thinking for a moment, eyebrows furrowed again like he’s trying to make up the words from scratch. “i‘m used to bein’ alone. never really thought about anybody else.”

you’re silent then, mostly stunned, because you don’t think he’s ever said so many words to you. not like this.

“i’m outta my depth here, kid,” it’s nearly whispered and it feels sacred, like a confession between you. you’re suddenly very aware that he’s giving you something that he’s parting with for the first time in his life. “but i can’t think about ya anywhere but here now. makes me feel a little sick.”

you reach for him then—tentative fingertips brushing over the rapid fluttering of his heart. he gathers them in his hand and holds you there.

“i might not be any good at this. but i’d like to try.”

his words hit your ears one at a time, like coins slotted into a carnival game—they reach your mind with a heavy clink and only when the last one drops in do you really hear him. he’s no casanova, but you understand the sentiment under his words as if he’d spoken it aloud.

you close your eyes and draw in one more shuddering breath, and it knocks loose the last of your reservations. you turn on your side, facing him fully, meeting the blue of his eyes with a slow smile that makes them narrow at you in suspicion.

“jeez. you didn’t have to go all soft on me.”

he scoffs, shaking his head. “glad to have you back, you fuckin’ brat.”

you laugh and he chases the sound, leaning forward until your foreheads knock together again. this time, he stays put.

“tell me again,” he murmurs, and your heart balloons inside your chest.

“i love you.”

epilogue—1 year later

Touya trudges up the steps to your apartment after finishing up at your grandparents’. you’d think he’d agreed to remodel the whole house, with how often they call him over now.

he had a hunch that he wasn’t really there just to make repairs, and he didn’t mind. he knew how much your family meant to you, and he’d be lying if he said they weren’t growing on him, too.

“you bring our girl over here to see us,” the old bat called after him as he walked out the door, “don’t let her work herself to death.”

he was quick to agree, because his concerns were similar—you’d gotten busy as the weather started to warm with the first hint of spring, and you did not appear to be particularly skilled at taking breaks or prioritizing yourself. predictable, but no less annoying.

walking up the steps to the home you now share, he looks down at the squirming thing in his arms and lets out a sigh.

it didn’t take much convincing for him to agree to move in. he got to see you everyday (which allowed him to ensure you were, at the very least, feeding yourself) and Buck was over the moon at living in a new space if that meant he could be with you all the time. he couldn’t find a reason to say no (and he really, really didn’t want to), so it was easy to say yes. the smile you gave him when he agreed is imprinted on his heart.

“babe? you here?”

you call to him in response from the kitchen, not looking up at him when he walks in—you’re hunched over the counter in front of your laptop, going through orders while Buck lays at your feet. he makes no move to greet Touya—in fact, the only acknowledgement Buck spares him is a few thuds of his tail against the tile. Touya narrows his eyes at him. traitor.

“hi,” you murmur, turning your body like you’re going to look at him—except you don’t actually look away from the computer.

“hi,” he grins, not moving in to kiss you like he usually does. waiting for you to turn to him.

“what did Mam need—oh.”

you’re finally looking at him—except you’re not really looking at him at all, because your eyes are focused on the shivering thing in his arms.

you look at it, and to him, and then back to it. you’re quiet for a beat, clearly trying to process, and then the thing nearly jumps out of his arms when you throw your head back and laugh.

“what the hell is that—” you say through a wheeze, wiping your eyes on your sleeve, “Touya—oh my god—where did you get that?”

you close the proximity between you—finally, he thinks—and he bends to kiss your temple when you take the chihuahua from his arms. instantly Buck is on his feet, sniffing the air but otherwise content just to look at the dog in your arms. Touya feels relief at the non-reaction—you really had taught his dog some manners.

“the fuckin’ thing was rooting around in the trash,” he mutters, slinging an arm around your shoulders, “figured you’d be mad at me if i left ‘im there.”

you roll your eyes and he knows you know it’s a lie—he wouldn’t have been able to sleep if he’d left the dog there.

“are we keeping him?” you ask absentmindedly, scratching his tiny head. it works to subdue him—the shaking stops (mostly) and he lets out a little huff before relaxing in your hold. it makes you smile, and Touya thinks he’d fill this whole fucking house with chihuahuas if it meant he could see it again.

“do y’want to?”

you let out a stray chuckle, finally looking up at him. “i guess he’d fit, won’t he?”

he feels the grin stretch across his face. “i don’t know. it’d be a tight squeeze.”

you snort, reaching with your free hand to poke at his ribs. “you have to name him, you know.”

“fuck,” he groans dramatically, pulling another giggle from you, “fine. what about…” he trails off, wracking his brain and looking around the kitchen, praying for even a semblance of inspiration. he sees your half-eaten lunch on the counter, and he thinks about the moldy cold cut he’d had to wrestle out of the little shit’s surprising tight grip—

“lunch meat.”

“...i’m sorry?”

“his name is lunch meat.”

you laugh at that, and the sound reverberates off every cell in his body.

“it’s a good thing we’re not having kids,” you say through a giggle, “they’d have the worst names.”

he grins at you and you just shake your head, cooing to the tiny dog in your arms. Touya peels himself from you, settling against the counter just to watch. the other surprise—the one he’d actually planned—involved a fancy dinner in the next town over, because it is your anniversary, after all—but right now it feels like he has nothing but time, and to do anything but stand here and feel every second with you would feel like a waste.

this fic belongs to me (@gardenofnoah). i do not allow anyone to repost, edit, or reproduce this work.

#am i....a sap?#i love him. oh my god do i love him #my baby deserves a good fucking ending #glares at horikoshi #todoroki touya x you #dabi x reader #todoroki touya x reader #touya fluff #touya x reader #fic: when fire doesn't burn

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euphoricfilter · 1 year

Note

Hiiiiii! Can you do a drabble for hobi

3. Smut(idk if that's the right one but anyways-)Ik that hobi is always portrayed as a hard dom but I kind of want to see him all soft dommy and fluffy cus maybe the reader is a virgin

"Don't cry, it will feel better soon"

maybe the first, but not the last time:

pairing: soft dom! hoseok x f. reader

genre: fluff || smut || established relationship au || non-idol au ||

summary: hoseok was written by a woman, and you're lucky he's all yours.

word count: 1.2k

tags/ warnings: fluff, smut in the forms of: vaginal fingering because hobi is a pleasure dom and a sweetheart and wants to make sure the reader is comfortable before she eventually loses her virginity, masturbation, mentions of bleeding.

notes: based on and off stage persona alone, i fully believe that hobi could pull off being both either soft or a little mean

drabble masterlist || my main masterlist

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Hoseok was written by a woman.

And as much as you’d been skeptical at first, how any human could be so perfect, a man no less, months after making it official he showed no signs of any ill intentions; no hidden ulterior motives that usually lurked in the shadows, only making an appearance when your partner had you wholly to themselves.

It was inevitable that the topic of sex would be brought up at some point in his courting of you, and as much as he hadn’t been pushy about it, you still felt there would always be the dreaded expectation of one day having to lose your virginity hanging over your relationship like a stormcloud.

You cursed society for feeding you doubt, because truly virginity didn’t mean anything, shouldn’t mean anything. And as much as you like to remind yourself of this fact, it was the niggling anxiety of intimacy that had you shying away from the topic.

Hoseok was far from reserved. He had no qualms about peeing with the door open, or skipping around your apartment with nothing but a towel on, truly making himself comfortable around you. And that’s when you realized that maybe Hoseok was the person you wanted to hand your wretched v-card to, because if it were to be anyone, then it’s going to be Hobi.

He’d made it apparent he was in this for the long run, so if not now, then when?

“Are you sure?” his eyebrows crease, watching as you shift from foot to foot; you look ever so pretty stood looking down at him, the cutest little hue of pink dusting your cheeks.

“Yeah” you nod, tongue wetting your bottom lip.

“You’re nervous” he points out, sinking a little further into the couch, legs falling open.

“I mean it’s kind of a big deal?” your shoulders deflate, working yourself up for the impending rejection, you can see it on the tip of his tongue.

“It doesn’t have to be a big deal” he shrugs, “The concept of virginity is a pile of dogshit”

You stifle a laugh behind your hand, “But what if I’m bad?”

The corner of Hoseok’s lip tugs up, “You’re inexperienced, not bad” he tells you, patting his thigh– and you follow, settling gently over his lap.

Hoseok’s hands run over your back, teasing at the hem of your shirt; never venturing to run over your bare skin, “Plus, I really like you”

“What does that have to do with anything?” your eyebrows crease, stomach tensing as he runs his thumb over your bottom lip.

“You could give me the worst head ever, and I’d probably still cum, you’re so pretty baby” he murmurs, “Just looking at you is enough, you don’t have to do any of the hard bits– let me take care of you”

You nod.

“Words, darling” he tucks your hair behind your ear, “I need to know you really want this”

“I want it” you whisper, absolutely mesmerized.

“Do you trust me?” he dares ask, hands holding your cheeks as your body goes lax in his lap.

“Yes, with my whole life”

“That’s bold of you, baby” he laughs, “Lucky I’d trust you with mine, yeah?”

You swallow thickly, fingers eager as you tug at the waistband of his sweats.

“Let’s go somewhere more comfortable” he pats your ass, arms hooking under your thighs, balancing your body over his shoulder.

He’s gentle as he lays you down on his bed, and you say nothing as he takes long strides into the bathroom, emerging seconds later with a towel. He must see your confusion, “Just in case you bleed”

“You’re not really helping with my nerves” you admit and Hoseok’s head tips back in laughter.

“It’s common, nothing to worry about”

You watch as he pulls his shirt over his head, prickly realization that this was actually happening hitting you full force, “Can I keep my shirt on?” you whisper, a small part of you hoping that maybe he hadn’t heard you.

His eyes widen by a fraction, “Of course, if that’s what you want” he nods, “We’ll go as slow as you need”

It’s embarrassing, the dribble of slick that dampens your panties as Hoseok looms over you. Pretty lips kissing down your jaw until your fingers tangle in hair, pulling him up for a kiss.

You shudder as his hand slips past the waistband of your shorts, “Is this okay?” he asks, teasing the lacy trim of your panties.

You nod, hips bucking upwards in search of sweet relief. His thumb brushes over your panty-covered clit, a sharp moan barely muffled by a hand slipping past your lips.

“You’re so sensitive, darling” he croons, “Are you comfortable taking these off” he toys with the string of your shorts, and you nod, tugging both your sleep shorts and panties off as your boyfriend rummages through his nightstand.

He lubes his fingers up, gentle as his free hand roams your body, slow enough that you know what he’s doing.

Your thighs twitch as a finger prods the entrance of your cunt, “Is this okay?” he asks, barely pushing into you.

You nod, head tilting to watch as his thumb flicks over your clit, electric pleasure pushing another pitiful dribble of slick over Hoseok’s fingers.

You don’t have the right words to explain how it feels when one of your boyfriend’s fingers push past your walls, strange stretch overpowered by the pad of his fingers dragging over such an intimate place.

Saline tears gather at your waterline, utterly overwhelmed by the onslaught of new sensations.

It’s as Hoseok eases a second finger into you that you blink, wetting your cheeks.

"Don't cry, it will feel better soon" he coos, fingers curling into your sweet spot. Your hips buck up at the unexpected pleasure.

“It doesn’t feel bad” you hiccup, “Just a little weird”

“Just relax for me, yeah?” he kisses behind your ear, “It will all feel a lot better if you just relax”

The tighness in your muscles uncoils, eyes squeezing shut as you focus on the slow drag of Hoseok’s fingers thrusting into you.

His thumb presses down on your clit, heat simmering throughout your body, “Hobi” you cry, “Gonna–” your hand flies to cover your mouth, cheeks flushed red. Sudden relief washing over you as you tip over the edge.

“That’s it” he croons, gently pulling his fingers out of you, “You did so well” he shushes you, hands firms as they run over your quivering thighs. “I think that’s enough for today” he tells you.

“But–” you start, blinking up at him when he presses a finger to your lips.

“No buts baby, I told you we’ll take it slow. 2 fingers were pushing it, and that’s okay”

“What about you?” your glance down at his cock, tip an angry red that you can only assume hurts.

“Do you mind if I–?” he gestures down to his length, pre-cum dribbling down his shaft at your unwavering attention.

“It’s okay” you nod, watching as his hand wraps around his cock, slicked up with your arousal from his hands, lithe wrist picking up the pace as he tugs at his length.

Your cunt clenches around nothing as Hoseok cums over your thighs, milky white, painting your skin with his release.

“How about I run a bath for you?”

“Can we bathe together?” you ask, watching a gentle smile tug at his lips.

“If you’re okay with that, then I’d love to” he hums, “You wait here, pretty baby”

“Be quick, I feel sticky”

Hoseok was written by a woman, and this may be the first time you’d given yourself to a man, maybe not having gone all the way, but you’re sure this wouldn’t be the last time. Because like Hoseok, you saw yourself in this for the long run.

🌻 thank you for reading!! feedback is always welcome

permanent taglist: @m1sss1mp @supernoonanyc

#bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts smut #hoseok #hoseok imagine #bts fic #hoseok fanfic #hoseok x reader #bts hoseok #bts non idol au #hobi #bts au fic #bts drabble game

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inmyheadimobsessed · 1 year

Text

More Than I Should {pt. 1}

pairing: riri ✘ black!fem!reader

series summary: riri williams hated you. from the cold stares and the snide remarks, there was no other conclusion to be drawn. the logical response in this circumstance would be to ignore her, avoid her at all costs. you weren't friends, so this should be an easy task. you only had one class with her, and you rarely saw her around campus outside of it. that was until you started dating her best friend. suddenly you'd found yourself thrusted directly into her life, and suddenly her attitude towards you was becoming an issue. you were never one to care what people thought of you, but something about riri captured your need to please. it was easy to convince yourself you only cared because of your boyfriend. she was his best friend, so the two of you needed to get along. he was none the wiser, chalking her coldness toward you up to her naturally standoffish nature. but you knew better. one way or another, riri williams was going to like you, you would make sure of it. (or the one where you're on a mission to make your boyfriend's best friend like you and the two of you end up falling for each other instead)

chapter summary: riri likes to stare, you'd gathered. she hates you, but enjoys watching you. everything she does leaves flustered and confused, and craving her approval. all of which goes unnoticed by your boyfriend. a party leads to drinking and drinking leads to riri reluctantly driving you home, where she extends a slither of kindness.

word count: 9.4k

contains: angst, CHEATING, fluff, smut (eventually) 18+, reader has a boyfriend, friendship betrayal, lying, riri is mean (at first), reader is a baby gay (very confused), jealousy, slow burn (kinda), and just a lot of mess

tags: @verachii @szalipcombo @rxcently @coolestgay @widowmakker @fetchyourlife @blackgcomica @n7cje @shurisbbymama @bestfriend491 @mocha-aya @uhwhatsay @shinsousliya @bratydoll @shuriswifereal @shuriri4life @letitias-fav @axailslink @chidinma @xoxo-dede @yvxmpire @generallysapphic @mbakuetshurisprincess @quintessencewrites @adeola-the-explorer @dejaonline @bubshri @zayswriting @la-reine-insane @shurisjournal

divider by: @firefly-graphics

note: soo this is gonna be a series. this idea came to me while i was listening to some of my favorite sapphic cheater bops, specifically 'ur best friend' by kehlani & kiana ledé and 'more than i should' also by kehlani & jessie reyez, hence the name. i think we can gather two things here: 1. i love kehlani and 2. i love sapphic cheaters and i will always root for them. so fun! if cheating is not something you enjoy reading about, please do not read this fic because i plan to make it very messy lol. obviously i don't condone cheating irl or whatever, this is FICTIONAL! i feel like i have to say that idk. but for my chaos enjoyers, this is for you. mwah <33

↬ series masterlist

“You know she hates me right?” Your eyes climbed your boyfriend's lanky frame. You watched his laugh build from his core: abs flexing under his white T-Shirt, throat bobbing as his neck sprung backward, allowing the glorious sound to escape his lips. Loud, genuine, hearty — this was the only way Hakeem knew how to laugh. It consumed his entire face, breaking his deep dimples free every time.

A smile of your own was inevitable. Hakeem’s laugh made you laugh, but you were being one hundred percent serious with your accusations. “She does. That girl cannot stand me. And I know she don't want me here.”

“She don't hate you, she just… needs more time to warm up to you. She don't really like new people like that.” His laughter subsided and he lifted his fist to bang on the large garage door. It was obnoxiously loud, echoing in your ears and you winced. You rolled your eyes, at his words and at his actions. How much more warming did she need to do? Was three months not enough time to warm up to a person?

She should be sweltering. “Yeah well, she need to speed up the damn process cause I ain't going nowhere.”

He raised an eyebrow, eyes brimming with curiosity. “Oh, you not?”

“No. We locked in buddy, and your lil best friend need to get on board with that.” You couldn't fight your pout and his eyes softened the moment he noticed it.

He cupped your cheek, palm warm and calloused as you nuzzled into it. “I know how important it is for you to be liked. Just give it a little longer okay? She gon come around.”

You nodded and he kissed you gently. The door swung open then, but Hakeem refused to pull away. You, on the other hand, couldn't stand the idea of her watching you kiss him. When you broke apart, you weren't the least bit surprised to find her eyes already on you. It was a habit of hers, studying you, sizing you up. It wasn't hard to guess what she was thinking; Riri's expression broadcasted just how she felt about your being there. Her stare was intense too, and it made you feel exposed. Brown eyes housing the potential to heat, glared at you in the coldest of ways, shooting darts of ice right into your chest.

Hakeem was incorrect in his assumption about your need to be liked, the opinions of strangers mattered very little to you. But you let him believe that was the case, you thought it easier than admitting the truth. Riri’s opinion of you mattered for some reason, hers alone. That was the truth. An innocent one on the surface, she was your boyfriend's best friend. She was important to him, which in turn made her judgment important to you. However, the crippling guilt you felt each time you thought of her, and sought her approval made you acutely aware that your truth was not solely pure.

There was something else there and you refused to understand it. You weren't entirely sure you even could if you tried.

“Nigga why the fuck you banging on my shit like the feds?” She stepped aside, letting the two of you in as she gave you another once-over. “And why you brought her non-smoking ass? She not gon do nothing but sit there.”

Hakeem laughed, winking at you as he tugged you along past Riri, but you couldn't find the joke. He shrugged, “She wanted to come.”

“To do what?”

You ignored their back and forth about you. It was their pattern and quite frankly you couldn't bring yourself to be bothered. Being the center of attention was sometimes entertaining.

“Bruh chill. She not gon do nothing, just let her hang.”

Riri rolled her eyes, “That’s exactly my point. Her energy be fucking up my vibe and shit.”

You roamed the partially messy space, taking interest in some blueprints Riri had pinned to her board. It was your first time in her garage so you couldn't help your fascination. Being amongst her sketches, her creations, her tools; it was like stepping inside her brain. According to Hakeem, she only invited those who she trusted. Your being there was obviously not for that reason, but you were flattered nonetheless. Her willingness to let you in the door was something, right?

Fingers traced the images before you as your curiosity flared. Some of the diagrams looked familiar, but with a twist only achievable by the young scientist. You could tell a lot of work was put into all of it. Skilled, meticulous. “Riri, what are you building? This looks really cool.”

Her head snapped up and she darted to your side, completely abandoning her bickering with your boyfriend. “Don't touch that. Move.”

“We went over something similar in class, I was just wondering–” You reached for the paper once more, eyes twinkling in amazement, but you startled when she ripped it down.

Annoyance buzzed off her as she balled it up and tossed it into the trash. “See why ion want her around? She don't mind her damn business Keem.”

You eyed her, confused. You truly saw no issue with admiring her work. You appreciated a great mind, but maybe you’d offended her in some way. “Sorry Riri, I didn't mean to–”

“Well, you did.”

Hakeem spoke up, clearing his throat, “Okay nah, ease up on her. She ain't do nothing.”

You watched as Riri’s stiff body visibly relaxed at the bass in your boyfriend's voice. Her shoulders shifted downward in her orange sweater, slouching a little and she sighed. “You right. I just need to smoke, I'm kinda on edge right now.”

She turned to you and you caught a flash of something in her eyes. Something unfamiliar, something… apologetic. “My bad.”

When she spoke, her voice came out soft and rushed. Delicate, like she was desperate to comfort with words. A lousy ‘my bad’ was hardly an apology in your book, but for reasons unbeknownst to you, you were willing and eager to accept it. Being angry at her didn't even cross your mind. Her tone alerted you of her intentions and it was enough for you.

“It's okay.” A small smile formed on your face, it was quick, but she caught it. Riri didn't return the gesture, and you hadn't expected her to. You were content with the simple fact of her knowing you were not upset. There was a moment where you two stared at each other for longer than appropriate and you found yourself holding your breath. One beat, two beats, three; neither of you looked away. It was difficult, you found. It was difficult to tear your eyes from hers.

Hakeem’s arm snaked around your waist, pulling you in closer and he did the same thing to Riri. You peered up at his gorgeous face as he beamed, pearly whites and dimples on full display. “Aww look at my girls. See this is progress, Ima make sure y’all love each other soon, watch.”

You laughed at his enthusiasm and so did Riri, a rare moment of synchronism between the pair of you. Hakeem had that effect on almost everyone. He was inviting and convincing, impossible to deny.

“I'm finna roll up.” He let you both go and jogged to the couch in the back corner of the garage. Riri looked at you again before walking away. Those eyes, they knew just how to stir you, no matter the duration of the stare. Something always came alive when she watched you, creating even more confusion within you. You ignored it, because of course you did. Deciphering Riri’s coded glances was not a task you found yourself wanting to do.

A strange feeling barred you from trying, and you wanted no part in that either.

She followed after him and you after her, plopping right into Hakeem’s lap as you always did when the three of you hung out. Or rather when they hung out and you third wheeled. No matter, you had to solidify your place in his life, she needed to know you were there to stay. Riri Williams needed to grow used to having you around.

•••

“Just pick up the damn cards nigga, on my momma you doing too much.” He sounded amused, but his words housed a twinge of irritation. This tone of voice, the over-exaggerated drawl on syllables, was one you knew well as a girlfriend who enjoyed pushing buttons.

Riri shook her head, hellbent on ignoring him. “Y’all cheating cause how y’all both dropped two draw fours on me? Nah, I ain't picking up shit.”

“Bro, just pick up the cards.”

You looked between the two of them, holding your own cards to your chest. You’d moved out of Hakeem’s lap when he asked you to play, still using the space as a leg rest. His fingers massaged your ankle and toyed with your gold anklet as you sat silently, enjoying the show they were putting on for you.

He was adamant about making her pick up all eight cards, but Riri refused to let up. Firm in her belief that you two were cheating. You were, but of course, you had no plans to admit that. He’d slipped you the card when she inhaled the last pull of the blunt and you giggled.

“If I pick them up, how I know you don't got four more shoved up your ass just waiting to fuck with me again? No.”

This got a laugh out of you and Hakeem smack your foot. Riri was too smart for her own good, there should be no way for her to know you were working against her, but alas.

Hakeem stood his ground, declaring his innocence yet again but she was not buying it. “Man come on, you messing up the game.”

“Well, game over now. Cause I know y’all cheating. I don't care.” Riri threw her remaining cards onto the weathered coffee table, kicking her feet up onto the sofa.

“Bruh, why you can't just take the L and move on?”

She laughed, glancing at him as he threw his head back in frustration. He’d really believed he could win the game amidst his scheme, it was adorable. You took this as an opportunity to crawl back into his cargo-clad lap to cuddle and console him.

“Aww, baby, I'm sorry you lost.” Your head found his chest, poking his stomach and he chuckled. Hakeem was nothing short of a big baby, whining and huffing whenever he didn't get his way. You possessed the skills to end all his theatrics though, one method being tickling.

He laughed under your touch, kissing your forehead before shutting his eyes. Eyes. A different set was on you. When you peered across the space, the culprit revealed themself. Riri was watching you again, this time in sheer disgust. Her scowl was a thing of nightmares and it unnerved you. Suddenly you felt embarrassed, ashamed to have shown your boyfriend even the slightest drop of affection.

An overt expression of disdain; the scientist seemed shameless as her eyes flung sharp daggers in your direction. The look sliced at your skin, once again leaving you feeling bare.

“What?” You questioned, voice a dry croak.

Riri rolled her eyes and sat up, repeating your question mockingly. “What?”

“Okay...” You decided not to press it and went back to cuddling your boyfriend. Riri refused to cease her stare though. Hot, searing irises burned a hole through your flesh as you clung to Hakeem, who'd apparently dozed off at some point. Your arms looped around his torso, head against his stable chest. His heartbeat, consistent and calm like still waters, contrasted yours entirely.

The rhythm in your chest was but an uneven swell, rippling erratically the longer you held her gaze. Riri sensed your attempt to challenge her and she leaned forward, spreading her legs as she strategically placed her elbows atop her knees. The ends of her braids draped her shoulders, making her appear harder than you knew her to be. It was unsettling. Her expression did not falter, but you felt your own on the verge of cracking.

You watched her, unblinking, and she quirked her brow. Your sensitive skin tingled the longer she kept her eyes on you. Every tendon in your body pleaded with you to release them, allow them to loosen and cower away but you denied them the luxury. Two could play in this game.

Riri very obviously sought to intimidate you with her glances and it was working, but she didn't need to know that. You scanned her body, her posture, taking her in fully. Her eyes were bloodshot and barely open as she gaped at you, which somehow made the tension-thick air even less breathable.

The garage sat silently in wait, much like the two of you, anxious to see who would be the first to break. Riri’s whirring machines and the subtle snores Hakeem breathed out were the only audible sounds in the space. When he stirred under you, your body jerked. It startled you and ripped your focus from your consuming staring match with his best friend. You’d lost, just like in UNO. Riri smirked at you, pride in her victory evident by the way her lips curved. She got up, and with the utmost grace. Sitting down you appeared shorter than her, and as she strode closer to you, you grew frantic.

She said nothing as she towered over your body, still sporting that devious smirk. You weren't breathing and she knew that. Eyes fanned you up and down languidly, then she reached forward and you flinched. Evidently in vain because she was not reaching toward you, but instead toward your slumbering boyfriend. She slapped his face lightly to wake him, catching your eyes fleetingly as she did so.

You exhaled when she moved back, dizziness and confusion swirling inside your head.

“Wake up. Y’all gotta get up outta here.” She crossed her short arms, waiting for Hakeem to rise.

Seconds later, he did exactly that, yawning before pecking your cheek. The gesture calmed you a little, recentering your buzzing thoughts. “You kicking us out already?”

“Yes. I got shit to do and like I said, she fucking up my vibe.” A quick glance came your way before she turned her attention back to your boyfriend.

“She ain't doing shit, you just a hater. But we'll go, leave you to your super secret whatever the fuck.” He tapped your thigh and you stood, hugging your middle as you waited.

Once on his feet, he stretched dramatically, as he often did. It made you smile. He dapped Riri up before taking your hand in his and leading you toward the door you entered earlier. “Aight, Ima catch you tomorrow. Please don't blow the place up.”

“Yeah, whatever.” She chuckled, wide and toothy. You found yourself appreciating her smile. It was genuine and you liked that.

“Bye Riri.” You waved and were surprised when she cocked her head, acknowledging your goodbye. Warmth slithered throughout your system, clogging the punctures created by her watchful eyes. You grinned wider when you stepped out into the cool night air, walking hand in hand to your boyfriend's car.

•••

Tired eyelids fluttered shut for the fourth time during your lecture and your head descended to your open laptop, making you jerk up when your face collided with the keys. Your eyes widened as they darted around, desperate to know if your mishap was witnessed by anyone. Luckily, the number of students was sparse, and everyone seemed just as checked out as you, good. Everyone except for her. Much to your chagrin, Riri was the only person who saw you, because of course it would be her. The remnants of her light laughter caught your attention, making you turn your head to face her.

That everlasting smirk hung on her face as it did routinely, smug and jeering. Her expression displayed pity and you scoffed. How dare she pity you?

You squinted at her, shooting her a disapproving glower and she rolled her eyes in response. Within seconds, she’d returned to her own laptop, tapping away and zoning out for the remainder of the class. It irked you, the way she so easily dismissed your presence. Rarely did she regard you in the classroom, if at all, and when she did this was precisely how it always went. Like you were a bother and something easily forgotten.

When class was over she shot up, ready to book it out the door. Usually, you’d let her leave first to avoid any run-ins with her attitude, but today you were a little more than hopeful as you scurried after her.

“Hey! Hey Riri!” You called but she kept walking, short legs and tiny feet carrying her far. “Riri!”

“Oh my god, what?” Her head whipped around, knocking you back some. Regret bubbled in your stomach. You’d given yourself rules, usually, you followed the rules. Number one being steer clear of her if Hakeem was not present. It was for your own sanity as much as it was for hers.

Her bored pupils coupled with the uncontained irritation painting her face reminded you exactly why rules were a thing. Riri’s impatience was palpable and it beamed off her in heated waves, melting away your spurt of confidence.

There was no turning back now though, you had her attention. “Dr. Lucas is really boring huh? I almost fell asleep so many times during his lecture, it’s crazy.” Small talk accentuated your awkwardness. It was a curse, truly, and it was causing the shorter girl to screw her face up more.

“Yeah.” Her reply was clipped and curt, but it wasn’t like you expected anything more.

You blinked, breathing slowly in attempts to steady your racing pulse. God, her eyes were crafted with the specific intent to scrutinize. They scanned you, studying your mouth as it moved, pointless words spilling out of you with seemingly no end. And there it was again, that irritation. You had no idea how she did it, how she possessed the ability to rattle you so. With minimal effort at that.

“I took some notes, but I just couldn’t keep my eyes open you know? It’s like man you really putting me to sleep when I should be learning, you should be teach–”

Riri huffed, cutting you off immediately. You’d prepared for it, but the action still stung. “Is there a point to this conversation?”

“Well uh–” You stammered, having lost control of the train carrying your thoughts.

She smirked, “Use your words.”

“Hakeem and I are getting food later!” A lie, but one that could easily be morphed into the truth with a simple text. Your boyfriend was the king of spontaneity.

“Um okay, have fun? The fuck?” She spun on her heels, ready to leave you and your gaping mouth behind, but you grabbed her wrist. A mistake. Riri looked offended, like the very act of your hand on hers was in some way insulting. Her gaze panned from where your skin touched to your face. “You’re touching me.”

You ripped your palm away from her wrist hurriedly and cleared your throat, “Uh, yeah I'm sorry. But I- do you wanna come with me? And Keem? To Freeda’s?”

“No.”

You’d seen firsthand how much she loved their fries, Riri had never once turned down food from Freeda’s, so you knew she was saying no just to spite you.

“You sure? You know I work there, I can get you all the free fries you want.” You teased with a pleading grin.

A spark of excitement flashed in her irises, and you were certain you’d hooked her. But when she opened her mouth, your face fell. “Nah.”

She left without another word and you frowned. Now you were irritated, not just by her rejection, but by your own desperation. Why'd you have to approach her in the first place? The outcome of that conversation would be obvious to anyone. You sighed because you were hungry now too, so you decided to text Hakeem anyway. He could cheer you up. Fries too, fries would cheer you up.

You: Hey baby, meet me at Freeda’s in 20?

Keem: Bet.

•••

You had about forty minutes left in your shift, but waiting impatiently for the old couple in the far corner of the diner to finish their meal made it seem closer to forever. They looked happy though, and you couldn't help your smile. The image of them made you think of yourself and Hakeem at their age. Would the two of you make it there? Was he your one?

He hadn't arrived at the time he promised and it annoyed you some. You needed his presence around as a distraction from your thoughts.

The conversation, or lack thereof, you had with Riri soured your mood for most of your shift. You just couldn't shake the feeling you’d messed things up with her even more after that encounter. The way she looked at you when you grabbed her arm played on a loop with every order you took. Her face colored in pure disgust, eyes wild and accusing.

The diner was small and not very busy this late in the night, so the quiet gave you too much time to mull over every detail. You munched on fries as you sat at one of the empty booths, but they weren't doing the job of making you feel better. Something was missing. Hakeem and his pretty smile were missing. He’d be feeding you fries and allowing you to pout like he always did when you were upset. What use was having a boyfriend if he wasn't on call to rub your back and feed you whenever you needed?

“Thanks, y’all have a good weekend!” You smiled, waving at the couple on their way out the door. They were your last customers of the night and you sighed. At least you could eat your cold fries shamelessly without the fear of judgment.

The door dinged as you popped the greasy piece of potato into your mouth and your eyes shot up lazily. A grimace formed on your lips when a familiar face sporting a soft, apologetic smile greeted you.

“I know, I know, I'm hella late. But I actually have a good excuse.” He scooted in next to you and bumped your shoulder playfully.

“No. I'm mad at you.” You tossed a fry at his face and he winced dramatically, grabbing his chest as if you’d wounded him. He was attempting to make you smile, but you wouldn't let him off that easily.

Hakeem wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer and you almost broke. Almost. “I had a shitty day and you were supposed to be here to distract me from the shitty thoughts caused by my shitty day.”

“I'm sorry baby. My shit wouldn't start, you know how that car be giving me problems. I slick need a new one for real.” He pecked your cheek, soft and sweet and you had to wrestle a sigh of relief. His lips on your skin did many things for you, but you weren't done being annoyed with him just yet.

You pouted and he mirrored it, somehow appearing even cuter than he already was. Those pleading brown eyes and quivering lips were enough to make you fold. You grinned wide, poking his dimple. His reciprocated smile rivaled your own as he pulled you in for a kiss. The kiss was desperate on your end and you whined against his mouth. If only he knew how much you’d craved his lips all night.

Hakeem pulled away and pecked your forehead, lifting your legs into his lap. Fingers rubbed your thighs, smoothing up and down, and you relaxed into the feeling. There was something amazing to be said about his effortless ability to comfort and soothe. It was so simple for him, so natural. His eyes were on your face, reading you as one would an open book. “Let me guess, Riri?”

“Yes. Your stupid best friend ruined my day.”

His chuckle lit up his entire face, making his chest bounce and you threw another fry at him. “What her short butt do now?”

“She was mean to me.”

“Ain't she always?”

You shot him a glare and he apologized immediately, throwing his hands up. “I'm sorry she was mean to you. I’ll make sure to yell at her when she–”

Before he could finish, the bell dinged again and in walked the devil. You groaned at the sight of her and she was quick to do the same. Riri had changed out of her hoodie and jeans from earlier. She now wore loose-fitting cargo shorts and an oversized Aaliyah T-Shirt with gold jewelry that complemented her complexion. Her braids framed her face with the middle part she rocked and they swayed past her waist. She looked good.

She stuck her hand in her pocket as she approached the booth, hesitant to sit in front of you and Hakeem. Eventually, she did and like clockwork, her eyes found you.

“Why she said you was mean to her?” Hakeem questioned and Riri scoffed.

The scientist sucked her teeth, examining your cozy position next to her best friend, “Ain't nobody was mean to her.”

You stayed silent, words have never been kind to you in her presence, so you thought it best to avoid them.

Hakeem grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers together and you smiled to yourself. “Now we both know that's a lie. What I tell you about easing up on her? Got my girl all sad and shit.”

“It's fine Keem. I'm over it.” You lied, scanning Riri's unbothered form in front of you. Her arms were crossed and she eyed the basket of cold fries you were previously munching on.

“Y’all want fries?” Riri’s reaction was the only one you checked for and sure enough, her eyes lit up like a Christmas Tree. They both nodded and you stifled a laugh, pushing Hakeem out so you could get up.

Before you went to the back, he reached for your wrist, eyes gentle and concerned as he watched you. “You sure you good?”

Your response was a short peck and you nodded.

“What I tell you bout giving out free food to your friends?” Your manager Benny quizzed with a hot glare. You rolled your eyes grabbing the baskets of fries anyway.

“It's just fries.” He groaned in response before walking away. Benny was all bark no bite, and he let you get away with a lot, not that you were complaining.

When you returned to the table, Riri and Hakeem were laughing at something on his phone and you smiled at the sight of them. Both their faces grew brighter when the aroma of greasy fried food hit their nostrils; they were practically salivating.

“Here you go babe, and here's your ranch,” You placed the basket in front of him and kissed his cheek before turning to Riri. “And I made sure to put that seasoned salt you like on there.”

Her face expressed shock, but only briefly before she grabbed the fries from you, fingers brushing over yours in the process. “Thanks.”

The first word she'd uttered to you since her infamous “nah” earlier and it made you oddly content to be thanked by her. You sat, watching them eat as you sneakily tried to take one of Hakeem’s fries. He smacked your hand away instantly, and you whined.

“Ion even know why you tried that,” Riri spoke up and you shifted slightly. She was right, Hakeem never shared food with anyone, not even you.

You cleaned up after they finished and the two of them fell into a conversation about Hakeem’s car. “You sure you can have it ready by Sunday? I gotta drive up to see my grandma, she in the hospital.”

“You know I gotchu man. I might actually be able to get it to you tomorrow if it's just your engine again. If it's something else, we'll shoot for Sunday.”

Hakeem shook his head and she looked confused, “Nah you can't tonight. I got a party to go to.”

Riri raised her brow, face unimpressed. “And what that got to do with me?”

“Wait lemme rephrase. We got a party to go to, all three of us. You gotta drive.”

Your head jerked at the same time Riri’s did, “Oh nah.”

“No.” Good to know the word was just as icy when she shot it at him.

He huffed, rolling his eyes at the both of you. “So y’all not tryna slide? It's Friday night.”

You shook your head, “Absolutely not. I'm way too tired and I got homework. Plus, I ain't dressed for no damn party.” You gestured to your work shirt, riddled with stains, and your jeans. Hakeem nodded in agreement, making you scoff.

“And I just don't wanna go.” Riri added.

“Look, Riri can just get you home, you can change real quick, and we can go.” He poked out his bottom lip knowing it would make you weak.

Riri’s dry laugh let the both of you know exactly what she thought of that idea. There was no need for words, and yet, she said them anyway. “That ain't happening. I already didn't wanna come here, but now you telling me I gotta drive her home, wait for her to change, drive to a party I don't wanna go to, then drive the both of y’all back to your separate apartments? And I ain't heard nothing bout no gas money either. You got me fucked up.”

She had a point. It was a lot and you didn't want to be a burden, nor did you even want to go to the party. You looked at her stern face for longer than necessary, and instead of snarling at you, her eyes softened. They regarded you kindly. Odd. But you took it.

“Riri’s right.” Your attention was still on her and you could've sworn you saw the glint of a smile under all that rubble.

But of course, Hakeem got his way, and you were now on your way to your place to shower and change. Riri begrudgingly agreed, but not before spitting a few choice words at her best friend. Words that you agreed with, words that made you giggle.

Riri and Hakeem sat in your small living room while you got ready. You were strapped for time, so black leggings and a simple backless halter top made the most sense for the night, pairing the outfit with your black and white dunks. Casual, yet still very cute. If you got cold later you would just steal Hakeem’s hoodie.

“Baby, can you tie this for me?” You called, stepping out of your bedroom. You loved the top, but tying it in the back was always a chore. You shoved your back in his face giving him no choice in the matter, which meant your accentuated bosom was facing Riri, who sat across from you.

Hakeem struggled with the strings; you could tell by his long sighs that he was frustrated, but you were too caught up in the way Riri sat silent and unmoving as she watched — no ogled you, to care. Her eyes honed in on your chest, gulping anxiously at your barely covered breasts. It was fascinating, garnering this reaction from her. She did nothing to conceal her stare. It was blatant and open. Probably because she was too caught up in it to notice anything else, like your awareness. She’d never regarded you with anything similar to awe before and you quite liked the look on her face. Hot was hot you guessed, even if she did hate you.

You smirked, deciding to play into it. “Ugh, Keem baby you doing the shit wrong.”

“I never said I knew what I was doing.”

Your glance alerted her immediately of your plan and she shifted uncomfortably. She looked flustered. Like actually flustered at the simple thought of what you would request. Being on the other side of this sort of torment boosted your ego, you loved it.

“Riri, can you help me? I know it'll be easy for you.” You sang your words, practically sauntering toward her and she stuttered. She floundered nervously, drowning in your sentence and your drawl.

“Uh, yeah.” Her voice cracked a little, but only you noticed because you were looking for it, planned for it even.

Your eyes traveled up the short girl and she cleared her throat when she realized she'd been caught staring at your cleavage. A grace fueled twirl turned your back to her, but said grace evaded your body the moment fingers grazed your spine. Riri gripped the strings, yanking them tighter than necessary as she tied your top. The harshness of the act, the bite — it made you gasp, trapping a bubble of air in your throat and you covered your mouth.

Your neck twisted to face Hakeem immediately. He was blissfully unaware and scrolling through his phone. Good. An unfamiliar sensation coursed through you, heating your ears and leaving you embarrassed at your reaction.

“There you go. Now can we leave so I can get this damn night over with?” She shoved you away slightly and you tiptoed back to where Hakeem sat on your couch’s armrest.

His smile was breathtaking when he looked up from his screen to you, eyes twinkling in sync with his earrings. “You so damn fine.”

“Boy shut up.”

Hakeem pulled you in by your waist and bit his lip. “Come here.”

A blush crept up your exposed back, searing you all over as he took you in. You leaned in to kiss him and he grabbed your ass, making you screech. “Keem stop it, oh my god!”

“You ready.” He whispered, lips padding over yours still.

You nodded with a smile, then pecked him again.

“We going or what? Cause I can leave y’all to finish whatever it is y’all starting over there.” Riri’s voice echoed in the small space and you froze just as Hakeem rolled his eyes at her.

He got up and grabbed your hand making you smile wide. You loved having his hand in yours, it made you feel protected and safe, even here. “Ayo why you always so damn grumpy? Do all short people be that grumpy all the time?”

Riri was not a fan of the teasing. She trekked to the door without a word, clearly not caring if either of you followed behind her or not.

•••

Sitting in the backseat of Riri’s car did not shield you from those eyes of hers. Each time she peered at you through the rearview mirror, you shuddered, mind racing back to the feeling of her hands on you. You couldn't stop thinking about how roughly she’d handled you. Your insides bristled and shame consumed you. Because you liked it.

There had to be a logical explanation lurking somewhere beneath your puzzling thoughts. Your attention shifted to the city lights now, taking them in as Riri zipped down the road. Maybe their gleams could give you some insight. Maybe you only thought you liked the feeling, when what you really enjoyed was the kindness she'd shown you. Riri helped you without protest, without contempt. That's what you liked.

With that conclusion drawn, you decided to give your brain a break, refusing to delve into the other thing she did that made your insides swivel. You refuted the idea of it entirely, tucking it in the depths of your thoughts.

The party would do you some good, help you unwind. You just wanted to enjoy good music, get drunk, and grind on your man.

Hakeem opened the door for you and stuck his hand out. “So chivalrous, oh my.”

“You know how I do.”

You gripped his right and he extended his left for Riri. For a moment she just watched his palm with a scowl and crossed arms, but when Hakeem brought out the dimples, she cracked. She plastered on a smile of her own and shook her head before snatching his waiting hand.

“Mmm, yeah. That's what I thought.”

If anyone could put her in a good mood, it was him. A twinge of jealousy struck you then. Unexpected and shifty as it arose — the feeling unnerved you. You weren't jealous of Riri or her dynamic with your boyfriend. That was never the case. Your mind had been betraying you all night, and this was just another instance of that. Alcohol would fix it, it would fix everything.

The three of you walked up the steps as a unit, hands swinging back and forth per Hakeem’s doing. You giggled lightly, widening your smile when you caught Riri doing the same. She made no move to shift her happiness when she grew aware of your gaze, instead she quirked her lips, aiming the expression directly at you. The gesture made you blush and you soaked up the fondness there. Housing it because the likelihood of it happening again was practically nonexistent.

Entering the house party was like stepping into a packed sauna. Warm bodies filled the tight space, bumping into the three of you as you attempted to maneuver through the crowd. Lil Durk blared from the speakers and a steady rhythm bounced in your system. You guys had barely moved past the front door before you began feeling sticky.

Liquor mingled with the rancid smell of piss and nausea threatened you. The flashing lights were not helping. Bright beams made an already dizzy mind all the more unsteady. How you were talked into coming here, a mystery unsolved.

You shot a glance at Riri still clinging to her best friend's hand and her bored facial expression told you she too regretted coming. Hakeem on the other hand, looked elated to be there. His eyes roamed the filled living room, presumably looking for the nearest place to get alcohol.

“Y’all want a drink?” He asked in that giddy tone of his. You should shake your head, say no, but you needed to forget a few things. A nice buzz would assist you in doing exactly that. You nodded and Riri did the opposite, finally letting go of his hand.

You trailed her steps as she walked away. It wasn't good to split from the people you came with in an unfamiliar setting, you thought, so keeping an eye on her was the smart thing to do. She trotted off to a corner, propping her back against the wall. By her stance, you could tell she would not be moving for the rest of the night.

“Stay here, Ima be back,” Hakeem instructed before leaving to get your drinks. You did not need to be told twice.

When he returned, he placed a red solo cup in your hand before knocking his own back within seconds. So that's how the night was going to go. Great.

“Come here baby.” You sipped your drink and he pulled you to him making you giggle. Hakeem’s hands found your bare waist, and you began to sway to the current song. The look in his eyes melted away any apprehension you had about the party, his touch once again providing you with security.

When he spun you, he hooked his chin over your shoulder. A giggle climbed your throat at the feeling of his wet lips on your neck. You pushed your ass back against him, knowing it would drive him insane. The low growl he breathed out was a confirmation and a cry for you to continue. You obliged, bending over and grinding into him hard. The liquid in your cup was strong as you down the last of it, tugging on a cough and you breathed out.

Unrest melted away the longer you two danced, confidence taking its place, no doubt brought on by the alcohol swirling in your system. Hakeem’s chest pressed tightly against your back and he allowed his fingers to graze your butt. Now that was something you liked, the sensation of his hand there, the way he touched you with care. He was asking for permission to go further and you granted it with a roll of your hips. An action that contrasted Riri’s earlier one entirely.

The icy sweep of his gold chain along your naked back sent a thrill through you. You smirked, reaching your hand up to wrap around his neck and he chuckled. “Damn girl, you better relax.”

His words barely audible, weighed down by the booming music. Hakeem’s cologne was strong and heady, and it made you all the more tipsy as you threw your ass back against him.

“Or what?”

He shot you a knowing look, making you blush. It was all calculated, he wanted a reaction out of you.

All the while, Riri watched the two of you from her corner. You were aware of it, her stare was a thing you were well acquainted with now. You looked up catching her angry eyes. Her expressions were usually the same: Irritation. Disgust. But anger was not at all common. What reason did she have to be angry at you? The look puzzled you as you held her gaze. There was a cup in her hand and the bottom of her shoe indented the wall. She seethed with each hip switch, eyes skimming Hakeem’s possessive grip on you.

You watched her lips wrap around the cup, watched her throat bob with each gulp. Something was off with her and you found yourself desiring to know what.

“Hey Keem, I’m gonna–”

“Yo, Keem that you?” A tall man you’d never seen before approached the two of you and your boyfriend let you go to greet him.

Hakeem patted the guy's shoulder and then hugged him, bearing that smile everyone loved. “Kyle? Whatchu doing here? I thought you moved.”

“I did, but I'm back for my sister’s wedding, the whole family up here. Dre back too.”

You watched the exchange, feeling forgotten as your boyfriend caught up with an apparent old friend. The conversation stretched on and he made no move to introduce you, causing you to grow irritated.

“Hakeem.” A stern call of his name caught his attention and he cursed under his breath, now aware of his mistake.

He grabbed your waist, sliding your stiff body closer to him. “Oh shit, this your girl?”

He nodded proudly and Kyle stuck his hand out for you to shake. You did not shake Kyle’s hand, glancing over to Riri instead. Her demeanor showcased less tension in her body and she was smirking a bit.

“Alright, my bad. I ain't mean to interrupt.” Kyle took your rejection seemingly well. The longer the two of them spoke, you began to realize he carried the same happy-go-lucky attitude as Hakeem. You learned that they were childhood friends, but Kyle moved down south when his father got a job offer there. He seemed nice enough, immensely different from the loser-y frat guys your boyfriend hung out with on campus.

He turned to you and the glint in his pupils told you he was preparing to beg for something you weren't likely to grant. “You mind if I go catch up with my friend Dre? I ain't seen him in years. Please baby? I won't stay too long, he just outside.”

You rolled your eyes, but allowed him to go. Your mind was still set on Riri anyway, and you made your way over to where she stood after he dipped out the door.

Approaching her with caution seemed like the best bet. You never knew what you would get with her. She saw you coming and scooted over a little so you could slip in next to her.

“You okay?” You yelled over the noise. Drunk students were now sliding down the steep staircase in laundry baskets and cheering. The act looked dangerous, and this was someone’s home, but no one seemed to care. Nothing mattered when you were bathing in booze.

She nodded, sipping from her cup again.

“You having fun?” Of course, you knew the answer already, and Riri’s look of annoyance confirmed that you were correct.

She chuckled into her drink before speaking, “Are you having fun? I mean your boyfriend just ditched you so…”

“He didn't ditch me.”

She laughed again as if she knew something you didn't and brought the cup up to her lips for the final time. “Oh, he didn't?”

You wanted to turn away, but everything about the way she sipped the liquid called to you. It was a thing you could not understand.

“Are you mad at me about something?” You didn't mean to blurt the question, but letting it out lightened the weight on your shoulders for some reason. You were glad it was out. Her anger from moments ago seemed to be quelled now, but you still sought a direct answer.

She turned to face you, leaning her shoulder on the wall. The outline of her face still looked good under the low light. There was a smirk there, on her lips, and it made you fidget.

“You do something to make me mad?” Riri raised her eyebrow.

You shook your head, “No.”

“Well there's your answer,” She waited a beat before speaking again. “And Keem ain't coming back by the way.”

“Yes he is.”

Your optimism made her chuckle again and she shook her head.

•••

Riri was correct. An hour had passed and Hakeem had not returned. You were beyond enraged as you scrolled through the dozens of texts you’d sent yelling at him. He left you on delivered, meaning he had to be actively ignoring you. Red blurred your vision as you seethed. It hadn't even dawned on you that you’d wandered away from Riri. There was a new cup of something in your hand and you swallowed it all, reveling in the sting that heated your throat.

Someone in the kitchen shouted shots, and you ran, knocking back four. You didn't care that drinking this much was reckless, nor about having work in the morning. You wanted to forget, you needed to forget. About Hakeem coaxing you into attending a party you wanted nothing to do with, and his grumpy best friend who congested your brain. You blinked, seeing only images of her: her lips, her smirk, her eyes on your boobs. It was all too much and you wanted to scream.

The group of girls you'd infiltrated were now dragging you back to the dance floor and you let them. They held your hands and they were nice, complementing your outfit and nails.

The upbeat song reverberated in your sternum, mixing with the liquor permeating your whooshing bloodstream. You felt light, like you were dainty and floating. Intoxication consumed your mind and reality was lost on you. Unknown hands made you jump when they looped around your middle, pulling you into them. The person wanted to dance and you were in no state to say no.

“You fine as hell shawty.” Mint and beer hit your nostrils, inebriating you beyond reason as you giggled. Their voice was husky and low, you liked husky and low.

Before you could grind into them, you were yanked away harshly. This time by hands you did know, hands you'd just learned. Riri's hands. “Yeah, Ima need you to get the fuck up off her.”

Her tone came out dark, dangerous, and it scared you sober. Wild eyes scanned the stranger. Riri, as short as she was, knew just how to intimidate because the person left jarred, and without a word. She scolded you with her glower, tugging you through the crowd and out the door. Nippy fresh air hit your feverish skin and you shivered, making you more annoyed. Hakeem was supposed to be there with a hoodie for you. He wasn't supposed to leave you.

You tried wiggling out of Riri’s grasp as tears began to sting your eyes. “Let me go! Get the fuck off me!”

“Yo what the fuck is your problem?” Her voice still housed that darkness, but it was less heavy now.

She scanned your teary face and rolled her eyes, obviously not moved by your emotions. She never was. “The fuck are you touching me for? I said let me go!” You weren't even sure why you were crying, but you were drunk enough to not care.

“Oh, now you got a problem with somebody touching you? Cause it ain't seem that way a minute ago. Letting random niggas rub up on you and shit like you don't got a boyfriend.”

You quieted. She was right, but you also wanted to get back at Hakeem for ditching you. The back of your hand swatted away streams and you sniffled. “Why do you even care?”

“I don't.”

You tried walking away, but you stumbled. Riri watched you, unmoved and unimpressed by your determination to leave. “Girl if you don't get your drunk ass in the car. I'm taking you home.”

“Don't need you to do that.”

She pulled you anyway, ushering you to her car skillfully. She opened the door for you and helped you sit, hot hands warming your chilled skin. You let Riri buckle you in and she groaned when you giggled at the contact. Your skin was sensitive and when she touched you it tickled.

“This is exactly why I didn't wanna come. I knew Hakeem fast ass would do this, leave me to deal with you.” You heeded her complaint as she climbed behind the wheel. So this was something he did often you’d gathered. Noted. He would definitely be getting yelled at and ignored simultaneously for the next few days. You relaxed into the seat as Riri drove off, kicking your feet up onto the dashboard before you lazily.

“Get your damn feet off my dash.” She reached her arm over to smack your ankle and you whined.

You really did not understand her problem with you.

“Why d’you hate me smuch?” Slurred words danced tipsily off your tongue. Everything was spinning and the city lights made your head split. Riri’s eyes darted from the road to your intoxicated form in the passenger seat for a few seconds, taking you in as well as your question. She said nothing and the car sped up a little, the motion shaking your stomach contents.

“Is it because I’m with Hakeem?” Silence again as she pulled up to your apartment building. She parked the car, sitting behind the wheel as still as one could, but it did nothing to stop you from seeing two of her. The alcohol in your body distorted her image and you narrowed your eyes to get a better look at her face. Riri’s face. She had a nice face, you thought. Pretty. No, not just pretty, gorgeous. Stunning.

“You like him or something? Is that it? You secretly in love with your best friend Riri?”

Her eyes rolled, “You're drunk and you should shut up.”

“That wasn't a no! Why you not answering my questions, huh?”

She was annoyed, you were annoying her and she spoke through gritted teeth. “Can you get out on your own?”

“I can do anything on my own, m’strong. Really strong. I'm like that iron girl from youtube.”

This made her chuckle and it bothered you for some reason. She didn't believe you were strong, that's probably why she picked on you as often as she did. Riri thought you were weak.

You moved to step out of the car, to show her just how strong and capable you were, but your still-buckled seat belt choked you and pulled you right back down. Riri opened her door, face baring utter frustration, and stepped out. She was at your side seconds later. Her arm reached over your body, brushing your exposed waist as she moved to unbuckle you. It jolted you, the touch. It made the hairs on the back of your neck rise. Your senses were already at their peak, and that brush of contact teetered on the thin line between bliss and sheer overstimulation. But one could argue they were one and the same.

She felt it too, despite her unwillingness to acknowledge it, her eyes spoke it all as she looked at you. Riri didn't move, instead, she squeezed herself onto the edge of the seat just to watch you, just to take you in entirely. There was a sensation brewing, bubbling inside you. It was not unfamiliar; you knew it well. The feeling awoke every time she glimpsed at you. It was intense as hell. You’d never seen her use that stare on anyone apart from yourself. Riri was a girl who had trouble controlling her facial expressions, even when she bit her tongue. Riri’s face betrayed her, laying all her inner thoughts out for the world to read and learn.

It was easy to discern when she was irritated or elated. But this look, this one was difficult to deconstruct. It was a look reserved for you, that much you knew. But its meaning was lost on you.

You knew she disliked you, she made it exceedingly obvious. You were aware she hated being around you for too long. She hated your relationship with Hakeem, or rather she didn't respect it, she didn't respect you. But each time she looked at you this way, each time her eyes studied and stripped you bare, confusion bustled inside you. This glare, it spoke something foreign. It contrasted her actions.

Riri’s eyes were on your mouth. They stayed locked on your lips and it made your already intoxicated mind sizzle with uncertainty. “Can you make it upstairs on your own?”

“I-”

She sighed, standing up and sticking her hand out, presumably for you to grab onto. When you hesitated, she seized your fingers instead, making you flinch. Riri pulled your drunken form out of her car, holding your palm firmly in hers. You wobbled, and she placed a hot palm on your back. A touch meant to steady, you’re sure, but it did the opposite.

Riri’s fingers being that low on your back heated your skin and sent your entire body cascading to the pavement. She caught you though, seconds before your knees hit the ground and she pulled you in close.

“S’okay Riri, I got it. Thanks for the ride, but I think I'm good n-now.” Your attempt to loosen her hold on you was proven to be useless. She held you tight. Strong. Really strong. She was smaller than you, but her grip was sturdy.

She pulled you, and your back collided with her front. “No. You're not good now. And I ain't letting you go nowhere by yourself.”

“O-okay.”

She guided you through the door and onto the elevator up to your apartment hand in hand without words. You stumbled a little bit on the journey, but her gentle touch kept you upright. When you reached your door, she politely asked for your key and you placed it into her other palm. The door opened and you stepped under the threshold, turning to face her.

“I got it from here.” You said, leaning your shoulder against the frame and her head dipped in a nod, but she made no effort to leave. She was watching you again and you held your breath. Riri took note of your inhale, smirking slightly.

You cleared your throat, “Why can't you be this nice to me all the time? I'm sure it takes less energy than constantly hating me.”

This instance was the longest she’d tolerated your presence without scoffing or gagging. This was a lengthy stretch of kindness, much more flattering than her tying the straps of your top. You appreciated it, much more than you should, you're sure because it was all you’d wanted, for her to be nice to you. And here she was, offering it up without malice. So of course you took it, and of course you ignored the batting shame in your chest.

“You really think I hate you?” She bit her lip, eyes flickering to your fingers that were still interlocked. You hadn't noticed she was still holding your hand, but Riri sure did. The thought made you blush, releasing a gust of unidentified emotions inside you. They trampled and toppled your growing shame, making you crave confinement.

You slipped your hand from hers, folding your arms across your chest as you breathed out. “Don't you?”

“Hmm.”

Your eyes turned curious, narrowing into an accusing glare.

“I’ll text Keem, let him know I got you home safe.”

She sauntered off, hitting the corner to get back on the elevator. You listened closely for the ding. Once you were certain she was no longer on your floor, you huffed a long exhale, willing your heart to stop thumping, begging your blood to stop rushing. Everything felt off, you were exposed to the air, and it judged you profusely.

You shut the door hurriedly and pressed your back against it, rubbing the heels of your palms in your eyes. That entire encounter, as mundane as it would seem to any prying eyes, was anything but. Or maybe you were just drunk and your insane overthinking skills were wide awake and at play.

“Hmm.”

‘Hmm’ was not an answer. ‘Hmm’ only bred more confusion.

#riri williams x reader #riri williams x black!fem!reader #riri williams x black!reader #riri x reader #lyricswriting #riri williams x fem!reader #myworks #riri x black!reader #iron heart #ironheart x black!reader #riri williams fanfic #riri williams #dominique thorne #black panther #wakanda forever #bpwf

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thebigbiwolf · 8 months

Text

Starvin', Darlin' - Chapter 1

Pairing: Not quite friends to lovers Astarion x OC/F!Tav

Chapter Summary: Astarion knows his power is waning, and seducing their leader Evelyn has gone poorly at best. If he is to keep himself in the tiefling's good graces, he's left with no other options. He must drink from a thinking creature.

Everything goes according to plan... until it doesn't.

Fic Tags: Minor spoilers for Act 1, The Bite Scene, Emotional slow burn, Angst, Teasing, Frottage (god I'm sorry), Pining, This is my first ever fic so idk how to tag things appropriately but you get the gist.

Fic Warnings: Eventual Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Dubcon (I cannot stress this enough), Bloodlust/Loss of control, Mentions of blood, lmk if you need anything else tagged.

Word Count: 6.1k

Read on Ao3: Here

A/N: I started this as a way to get this fruity fuck out of my head but I think I just made the situation worse. If you know me, no you don't. If you've followed me for a long time, sorry in advance. I may make this a mini-series depending on time and reception, but we'll see! OC is a rogue who seduces men to gain their favor but we'll get to that in later chapters.

Astarion's trance did not come easily that night; his hunger manifesting as a throbbing headache that refused to subside. It had been hours of tossing and turning in his tent, willing his body to settle, forcing himself to ruminate on the past few weeks.

Before he joined this disgustingly merry little group of adventurers, hunting rabbits and the occasional boar had been enough to sustain him. In fact, dining on larger animals had been a significant upgrade from the meager flies and rats he’d become so accustomed to under his master’s rule, but that was before all of this incessant hard labor.

He could feel his strength waning over the last several days. His senses were dulling, his reflexes numbed. Just this morning, he had failed to gain the upper hand with a particularly nasty kobold. He paid for it dearly when the damned thing all but pummeled him into the ground.

Luckily, Lae’zel had been there, hammer at the ready to divorce its jaw from its head. Beautifully done, by the way, but his blunder did not go unnoticed. All this sneaking around for barely a nibble during his watch was beginning to take its toll.

Astarion knew he was on thin ice, considering his relationship with their fearless, incomparable leader began with him pulling a knife on her and grappling her to the ground - in front of the damn wizard, no less. Some friction was to be expected.

But things hadn’t progressed much between the two of them since then. The pair rarely saw eye to eye on anything, and she seemed to have an innate passion for berating him over his unwillingness to stop for every single injured bird or helpless child as they traveled - as if playing the part of a hero was a favorable distraction from the literal time bomb in both their party and their heads.

“The world is full of potential allies, Astarion,” she had told him, sprinkled with a hint of her usual irritation. “I’m simply expanding our network.” As if a group of starving refugees and mud-slinging tree huggers were going to find them a decent healer any sooner. At this point, he’d heavily considered taking his chances with the goblins. At least they knew how to have fun.

What made matters even more frustrating was that Evelyn was seemingly unaffected by his charms.

Just how exactly was he supposed to secure his place under her protection when the woman barely spared him a second glance? Surely he wasn’t losing his touch. He was a master of seduction. Thousands of others had thrown themselves at his feet for far less effort. He’s had centuries of practice. The mere notion would be ridiculous.

In fact, he couldn’t remember a single moment in the last two hundred years where his advances had been so callously brushed off. Every attempt to make her laugh with his (admittedly morbid) quips was met with her chastising him for being insensitive and making threats to send him back to camp. She dismissed every flirtation, even if her lovely little blush betrayed her. She seemed determined to make him play her little game. He just hasn’t quite figured out what the rules are, yet.

Astarion couldn’t afford to take any more chances. If sleeping his way into her good graces wasn't an option, he was left with little choice. He wanted to make himself indispensable, so he was going to have to take drastic measures to ensure that his strength and physical prowess would never come into question. At least, not again.

He would have to drink from a thinking creature.

The idea of it was as invigorating as it was terrifying. He had spent the last two centuries enduring unimaginable cruelty, starved in ways mortals couldn’t begin to imagine--for years--without any reprieve.

No, starving doesn’t even scratch the surface. No words could ever describe the tortuous, gnawing, ravenous hunger that consumed his every waking moment under the heavy weight of Cazador’s boot.

Though, Cazador wasn’t here now, was he?

Curious.

Astarion had spent some time ruminating on who to approach before settling on Evelyn, though his options were limited at best. The githyanki was entirely out of the question; gods forbid he get caught, she would make quick work of him without allowing him so much as a single word of explanation. Shadowheart was…tempting, but that mark on her hand frequently caused her pain, and who knows if that magic would have any affect on him or worse, her taste? And Gale, well, he would rather subsist on a diet of garlic sprinkled with holy water before he put his lips anywhere near that man.

So, Evelyn it was. The tiefling wasn't terrible to look at. She was a younger woman full of vitality, so surely she wouldn’t miss a bit of her blood. He would just have to mind the horns.

He would be in and out. A quick nibble, then he'd be right as rain. One bite, he tells himself, barely enough to leave a mark. Then, he’ll pass it off and say that they had been attacked by bats during his watch and, not wanting to wake everyone, he quietly dispatched them and saved the day. Unfortunately, not before one of those wretched little beasts managed to puncture their illustrious hero. It was the perfect plan. Infallible. They'll eat it right up.

He continues passing through camp undetected, catlike in his silence, but when he reaches the canvas entrance of her tent ready to pounce, he freezes at the sight of her.

She looked…different while she slept. Softer, gentler, almost; surrounded by a nest of fur blankets, snoozing away instead of attacking his ego. Her hair was puddled beneath her head and horns like dark, red wine; rich and unrestrained by her usual loose bun.

Another realization hits him: this is the first time Astarion has ever seen her in her sleep clothes, a simple basic black wrapping across her breasts. Practical. Of course.

Her skin is pale enough to rival his own, even with the warmth of the firelight. She’s lying on her side, her uncovered shoulder lightly dusted in freckles, much like her cheeks. Her lips are slightly parted, and in the silence of the night air, he can hear her light, even breaths.

Cute, he thinks to himself. He could almost forgive her for being so maddeningly aloof with a face like that. Almost.

Astarion leans over to brush her hair away from her neck; the strands softer than he had anticipated. The thrum of her pulse underneath is magnetic. It pulls at his very being, beckoning him closer.

Settling on his knees beside her, his arms form a cage around her body.

He takes in the image of her form one last time and allows himself a moment to savor it. She is toned and lithe, much like himself, but smaller. Perfect. Delectable.

He bends closer, feeling her gentle puffs of breath on his shoulder; the warmth of her body. His ears ring with anticipation; manicured nails clench the sheets by her head.

She’s going to be so-

Something brushes his leg, hidden beneath the furs.

Her tail. He forgot about her bloody tail.

Evelyn stirs, and fully awakens right as his teeth are at her throat, eyes meeting his.

Shit.

“Shit.”

With incredible speed, she reflexively reaches for the dagger closest to her pillow, lunging at him. He just barely seizes her arm in time to save himself from being skewered.

“What in the hells are you-” he clasps his palm over her mouth to silence her.

The girl’s eyes are wild with panic, their golden hues burning a hole in his skull. He notices them flit down to where his body hovers over hers before she begins to struggle against him. “No, no, shh,” he whispers. “It’s not what it looks like, I swear.”

Her expression shifts from panicked to confused. She ceases her squirming. Good. Well, not good, but better. He can work with this.

“When I take my hand away, you have to promise not to scream and wake the whole camp,” he continues, hushed, “unless you’d like for them to find us tangled up in your bedroll. You wouldn’t want to give them the wrong impression now, would you, darling?”

Her eyes widen. Her face flushes deep red, warming his palm against her skin.

There, he thinks, that should-

Her body turns, and suddenly he feels the hard edge of Evelyn’s knee make contact with the corner of his ribs. A direct hit. Pain shoots up his chest as he rolls off of her and onto his side, clutching himself and coughing, heaving air back into his lungs.

She hurriedly covers herself with her sheets, glaring at him as he struggles to collect his breath. He can see her fuming through the tears forming in the corner of his vision. If looks could kill, he’s sure she would have him skinned alive. Maybe use what's left of him to scare away the crows.

She’s still holding the knife out toward him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? What do you think you’re doing in here?”

A fair question, one he was not prepared to answer. Perfect. He’s just going to have to wing this. Possibly with two broken ribs. He can’t believe he expected this to go any smoother.

“I-I wasn’t going to hurt you.” He raises a hand and falls back on his thighs with a grunt, grimacing in pain. His other clutches his side, a bit of sweat forming at his brow. “I just…”

Okay, this is it. He’s got this.

“I just needed, well,”

Aaaaand,

“Blood.”

There. Excellent form, Astarion. Good show.

“I - You needed what?”

She blinks at him, whether in disbelief or shock, he cannot say.

It takes a moment before his words start to sink in. She takes that time to scan over his body, purposefully.

He couldn’t quite tell if she was looking for something or if she was deciding whether or not to believe him, but then again, what other explanation could he give?

He works over his options in his head, considering just how difficult it would be to pass this all off as a terrible joke, but just as he’s about to open his mouth to start on damage control, he hears Evelyn heave a deep sigh. She lowers her weapon, then tosses it to the side, massaging her eyes in frustration.

Oh. Well, alright.

After some time, he watches her expression soften into understanding as a few notable things dawn on her. He’s never really eaten any meals with them, has he? Then there was the drained boar, which he so carelessly left out by the road. The damned beast hadn’t even taken the edge off that night, and he was so desperate to quell the nagging ache in his stomach that it lay there forgotten until she found it the next morning. He admitted to her himself that it had been drained by a vampire, after all…

A bit of silence follows.

Astarion doesn’t say a word, doesn’t dare move a muscle. He just allows her the time to process whatever she’s feeling. What’s important is that he’s still alive, she hasn't run him out of camp, and she hasn’t screamed for help.

He may be able to salvage this, yet.

She scratches the back of her head, carding her fingers through her hair to ease her irritation before finally meeting his gaze.

“Astarion.” The sound of his name leaving her lips pulls him from his thoughts. He can see the disappointment on her soft features just as plainly as he can feel it humming through their psionic link.

He didn’t think himself capable of guilt, but there was an emotion akin to it brewing within his chest. Ugh. He breaks eye contact, searching for anything to pull his attention away from his discomfort. The miscellaneous bags of clothing and trinkets she had scattered about her tent were just oh so fascinating. And was that a new hairbrush? Hm.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He’s taken aback by her question. He expected a more offensive reaction. A few insults, maybe ones pertaining to his sharp teeth or bloodlust, but an olive branch?

After all the lies, the invasion of privacy, and the failed attempt at assault?

She really is just full of surprises.

“Well, we aren’t exactly close, you and I. Though, you must admit, I’ve made several attempts to…” He waves a hand between them for emphasis, “mend the gap, so to speak.”

“Well, have you ever considered maybe not being such an asshole?”

Ouch.

But in fairness, no.

“I…” He thinks carefully about what to say next. The buzzing behind his eye socket acts as a threat, reminding him of the very fragile barrier between their minds. Should she choose to dig her claws in and pry the information out of him, she may find more than he's comfortable sharing, so Astarion makes a decision that surprises even himself.

He chooses to be genuine.

“At best, I was sure you’d say no. More likely, you’d ram a stake through my ribs.” He gestures towards the dagger at her side. “But believe me, I’m not some monster. I’ve never killed another person.”

Evelyn raises an eyebrow at him.

“Well, not for food,” he quickly corrects. “I’ve been subsisting on animals. Boars—like the one you found the other day—deer, kobolds, whatever I can get my hands on.”

“And what exactly was the plan here? You were just going to kill me and expect the others not to notice?”

He recoils at the accusation but fights to keep his expression neutral. “I had no intention of killing you. I would never do such a thing.” He leans in closer to her and lowers his voice, as if letting her in on a secret. “We need each other.”

Evelyn shifts to lean her weight on her arm as she listens, dark hair falling to the side of her shoulder. With the new level of exposure, he can hear her pulse settling into a more comfortable rhythm.

He swallows. Hard. His hunger is rearing its ugly head again, just at the sound of her.

Oh well, might as well lay all the cards out on the table while we’re at it.

He takes a deep breath, steeling himself, and continues, “As it stands right now, I’m too slow. Too weak. If I just had a little blood, I could think clearer. Fight better.” There is a question hidden in his words, a favor to be asked.

She seems pensive as she considers him, mulling over everything he’s said in her mind. She lifts a thumb to her mouth and starts nibbling on her nail, no longer looking at him. Nervous too, no doubt. How could she not be with what he’s asking of her, as if he had any right to ask in the first place?

“I understand you detest me, but-”

Evelyn appears to snap to some conclusion, sitting up straighter and placing her arms to her sides before she responds.

“No, I should detest you, Astarion, but I don’t. You just don’t impress me.”

Wow.

It feels as though he’s been slapped. He barks out a laugh that’s a bit too loud for the intimate setting, trying to mitigate the damage to his ego. “Excuse me?”

She has the nerve to shrug at him. “I’ve seen every trick you’ve used to fill your little black book, probably a thousand items over. I’ve used them all myself. So, frankly, I'm uninspired.”

For the first time in his undead life, he’s totally speechless. His face contorts in indignation, disbelief. This devil.

There is something dangerous in her expression as she leans further forward, neck tilted, exposing herself to him. Her eyes are hooded, with long lashes casting shadows over her cheeks. Her shoulders relax as she lifts her chin to stare down her nose at him, sneering.

He works his jaw, clenching the muscles unconsciously.

“Astarion, men are idiots. I’ve spent my entire adult life toying with them and robbing them blind. I’ve heard and seen it all. You really believed a few empty praises and mediocre jokes would have me jumping into bed with you?

Wha- Mediocre?

He opens his mouth with every intention of retaliating, but Evelyn’s palm unexpectedly rests itself on his calf, and the action stuns him into silence. She begins leisurely dragging her nails up towards his thigh.

His body responds involuntarily; eagerly, frustratingly, the delicate little motion leaving his skin prickling with excitement.

She regards his chest, admiring the hard planes of muscle. Then, her attention slowly inches down the toned curve of his abs until, finally, they stop at where his cock hardens disobediently beneath his pants.

“Your pretty face doesn’t detract from the fact that you’re still just a man.”

It finally clicks.

She’s baiting him, attempting to get a rise out of him.

Hm. Impressive.

Normally, at this point in her little game, he assumes most men would take her flirtations at face value. They would likely mistake this performance as an enthusiastic plea to bed her, but Astarion is not like most men. He sees her little game for what it is and recognizes it with ease because he has spent lifetimes playing it himself.

She leans back, satisfied with her little show, and smirks at him.

“So, you admit I have a pretty face?” He teases, his own smile twisting, becoming more mischievous.

She rolls her eyes, but this time she laughs. It’s a soft sound, genuine.

A pinkish hue crawls up her face and paints the tips of her pointed ears, but he can’t discern if that's supposed to be part of the act or, more likely, an unfortunate side-effect of the living experience. He’s finding it hard not to admire her dedication, regardless.

Well, that’s quite enough of that. Back to business, then.

“It’s settled,” Astarion clasps his hands together, “I’ll just need to impress you with my more eclectic talents if I am to earn your favor. We can start by gracefully slaughtering a few goblins, depending on how the rest of tonight goes. Which is entirely up to you, of course.”

The tiefling squints at him. “Oh no, if you want something from me, darling, you’re going to have to ask politely. With manners. You have those, don’t you? Familiar with them, at least?”

Under normal circumstances, he would find this amusing; nothing like a little role reversal to spice up the evening. But this feels different, heavier, as if her feigning indifference will alleviate the weight of what he's asking of her.

Fine. He supposes relinquishing a little bit of his pride is a fair price to pay.

He takes a deep breath. "Please."

"Please, what?" She lifts an eyebrow at him expectantly. "Come on, Astarion. Use your words. I know you’re quite fond of them."

He scoffs at her shamelessness, and for a moment, he honestly considers whether this is worth it, but he can't back out now. He'll make it through this, surely. He's been through worse.

Through gritted teeth, he barely spits out, "Please, may I drink from you?"

Gods. He's going to be sick.

"Good boy. That wasn't so hard, was it?"

He’s going to fucking kill her.

There is an uncomfortable silence that follows. So many unspoken questions and a rising suspense that makes Evelyn adjust herself uncomfortably where she sits. Astarion is also musing to himself, still wondering how it's all come to this. Why did he choose her, again? Something about her not killing him right away? Death may have been preferable to this, actually, but he is pulled back to reality when she finally speaks up.

“So," she's picking lint off one of her pillows, avoiding his gaze as she asks, "how exactly should we do this?”

Well, it occurs to him that he doesn’t actually know. He understands the mechanics behind it, of course, but how exactly were they supposed to go about this?

Should he tell her that he’s never actually fed from a person before? Would it make her more or less comfortable to know that he’s just as clueless about this as she is?

No. He decides against it. Astarion has always done best when he’s playing the role of the confident seductor. This should be no different. He’ll just treat this as if he’s bedding a virgin: guide her, take things slow, and she’ll no doubt be begging him for more soon enough. It’ll be easy. All she has to do is behave.

“Lie back and get comfortable.”

He moves himself closer to her, settling at her side as she does what she’s told. The flap of the tent remains open, letting in the faintest amount of warmth and illuminating Evelyn’s features. With such close proximity, he can see the gold flames within her irises flickering and dancing, a genetic trait attributed to some luckier members of her race, and a feature of her’s that Astarion would have never otherwise noticed.

He can hear her pulse quickening as he closes the space between them, lifting himself a bit to settle above her, once again caging her between his arms. One of his knees parts her legs, and he can tell in the quietness of her tent that she’s struggling to hide her uneven breaths. Her stare is intense, but he can’t read the meaning behind it.

He decides to give her another out, just in case. Better safe than sorry.

“We don't have to do this, you know,” his voice is composed, as if his body wasn't currently screaming with anticipation. “I appreciate the consideration, regardless.”

“I’m fine.” Her response is clipped, dismissive. Her face remains stoic though her fingers fidget with the blankets at her sides. She had moved the furs to give him better access to her body. The darkness inside him preens at the concept.

Best get on with it, then.

He leans down and, unable to help himself, takes in the scent of her: woodsmoke and the faintest hint of vanilla, which he had watched her pick up from a merchant in the grove just the other day. “For Gale’s cooking,” she amended, when he gave her a questioning look.

He gives her one more moment to stop him.

She doesn’t.

A bit of pressure on the skin before it snaps and gives way, his fangs finally sinking into her. He can feel Evelyn’s body tense at the sudden intrusion. She hisses through gritted teeth, her arms involuntarily raising at her sides, reaching for him, but she stops herself before she touches him. He wants to tell her it's fine, expected, even, the need to ground herself, but all of his higher thoughts are plunged into complete chaos when he finally registers her taste.

Every cell in his body awakens.

The iron flavor of her floods his throat and sets his nerves ablaze. Its heat fills, expands, and splits every crack in his self control into deep, cavernous fissures.

A groan escapes Astarions throat before he has the chance to quell it. Of course it would be like this - drinking from a thinking creature. Drinking from her. He understands now why Cazador forbade this. Before, he had assumed it was a matter of keeping his spawn weak and compliant, but this was entirely different. This was far more than a method of control. The bastard had been withholding ecstasy greater than he’d ever known.

A feeling swells in him, crashing like waves through his veins. Warmth. It invades him and fills every fiber of his being. He wasn’t naive enough to believe his first time wouldn't have some sort of great, emotional impact, but this?

This was everything. How was he ever supposed to come back from this?

"Agh - Astarion," he barely registers her pathetic little whine through the haze. She finally allows herself to grab onto him, the loose sleeve of his nightshirt tightening in her fist. For purchase, he tells himself with what little is left of his consciousness, practical. That is until he lowers himself fully onto her in an attempt to relieve the strain on his biceps.

With no space left between their bodies, he doesn’t anticipate the blazing heat of her core on his thigh, even through the several layers of clothing. She gasps at the sudden pressure, fingers twitching, nails digging little crescent shapes into his skin. What surprises him most, though, is when the taste in his mouth melts into a flavor so much sweeter.

Something primal within him recognizes it instantly; it twists in his gut and sits there heavily, as if the emotion were his own: arousal.

Oh.

She is burning for him.

Good.

After all of that teasing, the woman he’s spent weeks enduring endless lectures from actually does desire him, or at the very least desires his body. Which is just as favorable, in his opinion. It’s just nice to know all his hard work hasn’t gone to waste.

If she lets him live, he's going to spend every waking moment tormenting her over this. His lips vibrate against her skin as he chuckles to himself, causing some of her blood to run down his chin in hot rivulets, blooming new stains onto her sheets.

He knows he’s had enough. He means to let go, he truly does, lest he end up draining their groups' only hope of survival. Surely that wouldn't go over well with their companions. Pitchforks, and all that.

But her whimpering, her heat, coupled with the ferocity of his hunger, all provoke a feeling that has been building beneath the surface which he’s unable to name; it's desperate and possessive, a predator guarding its kill from hungry scavengers. The monster in him casts a dark shadow over his mind as he feeds. His body no longer feels as though it is his own, betraying him; a slave to the demands of his appetite.

He needs her, needs all of her, and he cannot will himself to stop, too lost in sensation and the sound of her mewling to bow to his higher thinking.

He mindlessly rocks his weight into her and grunts—a slow, unintentional grind against her mound. The motion comes easy to him, like breathing - instinctual. The blunt edge of his clothed cock drags deliciously through her parted thighs. Evelyn’s breath hitches at the feeling, her squirming beneath him giving him the sickest form of satisfaction, but the animal within him demands her compliance.

His hand gathers her loose hair and pulls, growling, warning her to keep still. She whines at the force, back arching. The other grabs her arm, pinning it down, and tightens, thumb gently stroking against her wrist.

"Astarion,"

She’s no doubt making a mess in her smallclothes as she quivers beneath him, all flushed cheeks and furrowed brows. She may deny it later, but her taste tells him everything he needs to know.

Her body is burning against his cool skin, and her gasps are only spurring him on. He laps at the wound, dragging his tongue up the length of her throat, indulging himself in her. It's too much.

He feels her pulse weakening, her rhythm slowing.

It isn't enough.

He's about to latch on to her again, teeth at the ready and blinded by his eagerness, when he suddenly feels a piercing sensation behind his eye - the tadpole, he assumes, writhing in panic. Screeching at him to open himself to it. The discomfort is just enough to pull him back into his body. Then Evelyn's voice invades his mind.

‘Astarion, enough!’

He disentangles his limbs from hers, practically jumping off of the poor woman. He’s gasping for breath as he comes to his senses, the mix of her blood and his saliva staining his lips pink. It dribbles down his chin. He wipes his face with the back of his knuckles and licks them clean.

But then, the cold realization of what he’s done is thrust upon him like a bucket of iced water, shocking him back to the present. He’s going to need to come up with one hell of an apology to get himself out of this one. Or maybe he should just run? Baldur’s Gate is really only a few weeks travel at most.

“Shit,” he whispers, more to himself than to her. "Are you alright, dear?"

Evelyn's eyes meet his. Her pupils are blown, almost entirely overtaking the gold of her irises when she glances away from him to assess the damage.

"Gods damn it," she quietly groans and applies pressure to the wound, thankfully finding that it isn't too deep or particularly painful. She tends to it, wiping the thin sheen of sweat from her brow. She searches for a rag as she avoids his concerned stare

A deep purple bruise spreads across her pale skin. Small red droplets trickle down the length of her nape, dampening her black breast band before soaking into it and disappearing entirely. He collects himself, willing his mind to cease its incessant urge to lick the damned liquid from her neck. She is flushed and sweating, unbalanced, panting from exertion as much as her own embarrassment. Her dark hair is a tangled mess from his attention. She looks ravaged.

It… suits her.

Astarion clears his throat, trying his best not to get caught admiring his handiwork.

She was right about one thing. He was, at least in some respects, just a man...

“Here,” he insists, grabbing one of the smaller furs and holding it up to her. She takes it from him without acknowledgement.

“I -” He begins, but he’s at a loss for words. What does one say in this situation? ‘My sincerest apologies. I don’t know what came over me! I must have gotten swept up in the moment!’ as if that pitiful excuse would overshadow the fact that he manhandled and almost devoured her.

He wants to laugh, but the sound dies in his throat.

He begins to worry that she really may not forgive him. He fears she'll wake the whole camp, or maybe finally cast him out like the monster he is. He wouldn't blame her. She took a great leap of faith in trusting him with this, and he rutted against her like some horny bugbear. Or worse, a teenager, he sneers.

Evelyn pulls the rabbit skin away from her neck, examining it. The brown hairs are matted and crimson, but the bleeding has stopped. She runs her fingers over the puncture marks, feeling the skin dip slightly where his fangs pierced her. She sighs with resignation, surely thinking about how the others will approach her with a plethora of questions tomorrow morning, face reddening at the idea.

“You could have warned me, you know.” She rolls her eyes at him. “I didn’t realize I was agreeing to…all of that.”

His heart sinks.

Of course she thinks it was on purpose. I mean, look at him. He’s all but thrown himself at her since the moment they met. He’s spent this entire time playing the part of the rake. It's only natural she assumes the worst.

“Evelyn, darling,” speaking her name aloud brings her focus back onto him.

The gravity of it is suffocating, condensing the already small space they shared. The tension pulls at something undefinable within him that he thought was long dead—a sincerity that betrays the character he’s been crafting for as long as he can remember.

It sways him.

More truths to forgive more transgressions, then. A fair transaction.

“I’ve had this condition for over two centuries, but, truth be told,” he clears his throat again, because ugh this is awful. And why does she have to stare at him like that, with her earnest, wet eyes? “You were my first. I’ve only ever fed on beasts.”

The implication is there: how could he have known?

His confession takes her by surprise. “You don’t…” she pauses, taking everything that transpired tonight into consideration. He must be giving her a look akin to pleading, because she takes mercy on him and disregards whatever question she was about to ask.

“Please tell me you didn’t do that to the boar.”

Seriously, a joke?

He barks out a laugh before he can stifle it. Whether it's from the sheer ridiculousness of the question or the disbelief towards her acceptance of it all, he truly doesn’t know.

“No, my dear. Just you, and you were delectable.”

Her expression is difficult to read. She’s not looking at him; refuses to, when she replies, “So then, did it work?”

Astarion moves to stand, peering down at her form. He exhales in relief, feeling as though he is a century younger. His muscles are lax; all the stress has been drained from his body. A novel experience. “Yes, I would say so. I feel stronger. My mind is clear. I feel…happy.”

He adds the last word in an effort to appease her, but it does ring true. His main source of joy since he contracted this affliction has been causing others pain, ripping out throats and such. This feels distinctly different, less exhilarating, but pleasant all the same.

“Well, I look forward to seeing you fight.”

He acknowledges her, then stretches his back out, extending his arms to the sky with his hands clasping behind his head. The motion pulls the rest of his nightshirt out of his trousers and tugs it upward, exposing the hard edges of his hips. He can’t confirm it, but he swears he sees her eyes flit quickly towards them before making an expeditious retreat.

“Shouldn’t take long. So many people need killing.” He lifts the flap of her tent to peek outside. No sign of anyone stirring, and the night is still young. Knowing the wildlife in this area, he may still have a chance to sate himself. With his newfound strength, he may even be able to wrangle up a bear. What a feast that would make.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, you’re invigorating, but I need something more filling.” He bows his head to her in thanks.

He’s about to step outside, one foot exits the canvas before the rest of him, when it hits him that he feels…odd, uncomfortable leaving her like this. He can’t place his finger on why. He’s ridden atop many women and left without saying a word.

But, he supposes this is dissimilar.

Evelyn listened to him tonight, heard him out when anyone else would have carved him into pieces without second thought. She let him drink from her, forgave him for getting…carried away.

The most shocking part of it all is that regardless of her dismissiveness, he now undeniably knows that she’s attracted to him. Yet, she didn’t capitalize on the opportunity when it arose to take advantage of his altered state; of his needs. With that, she’s shown him more kindness in the last hour than he’s experienced in his entire undead life.

He likely owes her for this, of course, but there are worse fates he could endure.

The elf looks over his shoulder at her and catches her watching him intently, as if she wants to continue this conversation but can’t quite figure out what she wants to say. The intensity of her gaze almost forces him to turn back towards her, drawn to her by an unfamiliar ache; a thrill in his spine, the compulsion pulling at his chest like some sort of spell.

“This is a gift, you know.” The words escape him, hanging in the air between them with raw authenticity. He means to make himself sound more frivolous, but before he can edit them in his head, more truth spills from his lips, “I won’t forget it.”

His throat tightens. He considers her for a moment, wondering what he might find if he does turn to meet her eyes.

But, Astarion resists.

She must be exhausted. He shouldn’t take up any more of her time.

He leaves before she can respond. There wasn’t anything left for them to discuss, and he’s desperate to break free from the uneasy weight of her presence.

The second he steps fully outside, he feels as though he can breathe again, not that he needs to, being undead and all.

What a strange feeling, that was.

One he decides he’d rather forget. Best to not burden himself too much with it.

The taste of her lingers on his teeth. He finds himself savoring it for a moment too long before stalking towards the forest, confident. Ready to hunt.

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion #astarion fic #astarion x tav #fanfic #bg3 #bg3 tav #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate 3 oc #im muting every bit of social media i have after posting this lmfao #evelyn

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minleeeknow · 3 months

Text

'whipped cream & kisses'

‘pairing’ - 엔하이픈 02z (enhypen) x fem!reader

‘genre’ - fluff so much fluff, established relationship

‘tw’ - kissing and um, idk fluff?

‘word count’ - 0.6

‘to get tagged’ - pls reply to the taglist post, this post or just ask me

‘lee’s notes’ - lowercase intended, not proofread, entry for okwonyo's bonbon fraise event, inspired by list 1, prompt 6 + prompt 10

pls note, reblog, anything

sunghoon

you feel arms around your waist as you finish the first layer of frosting on your strawberry cake.

"you looked so cute focusing," sunghoon admits shyly as he rests his chin on top of yours. his hands skillfully guide yours across the cake, the frosting delicately falling onto the cake.

"can we put the whipped cream now?" sunghoon asks, unraveling himself from your arms. you laugh.

"noooo hoonie, no whipped cream on cake," you say, trying not to laugh at his face. he's mock-pouting.

"pleaaaase," sunghoon begs, kissing you on the nose. you escape his embrace and open the fridge, snatching the whipped cream bottle. you spray it on your nose and look at sunghoon.

"there's your whipped cream," you say, feeling a hot blush rise up your cheeks. sunghoon smirks as he steps closer, his face inches away from yours.

he kisses your nose again, licking up the whipped cream from it and then sunghoon cups your face, kissing your lips. after what feels like a whole hour he breaks the kiss, a bright smile on his face.

"i love you, yn," he says softly, looking shyly at the ground.

"love you too, hoonie."

jongseong

"cmon jay, please?" jay frowns, hiding his face.

"no yn, i don't want whipped cream on my face," jay protests as you shake the whipped cream bottle in his face. you groan.

"baby please," you plead, leaning on his chest. "i'll wear the matching sweatshirts?"

jay's eyes immediately light up. "you mean the cat and dog ones?" he asks, suddenly animated. you nod, sighing. he smiles and you spray a bit of cream on his nose and he goes cross-eyed looking at it.

"oh my god its so cooooooold!!" jay complains. "it's whipped cream jay," you say, amused.

you laugh and he smiles at you. "i love making you laugh," jay says. you say nothing and instead kiss his nose, getting the whipped cream in the process. you close your eyes and let him wrap his arms around you.

"that was actually kinda sweet," jay admits. you poke his chest. "i told you so!" you tease him. jay rolls his eyes.

"fine fine you were right yn." he twists your hair around his index as he says, blushing, "can we do that again?"

jaeyun

you sigh as you cuddle with jake. he leans his head against yours and the comfortable silence engulfs you both.

"do you like whipped cream?" the question comes out of nowhere and takes you aback. "do you like whipped cream?" you counter smoothly as you trace jake's hand.

"i love it. but i love you more," jake says, smiling at your immediate fluster. "did you have to?" you complain.

"of course i did yn." he gets up and goes to the kitchen. jake comes back with a bottle of whipped cream.

"whaaaat are you doing?" you ask cautiously. jake flashes you a small smirk. "you'll see."

he unbottles it and sprays some cream on his nose. your eyebrows fly up and you stifle a laugh. your boyfriend sprays some on your nose and you give him a look.

"sim jaeyun!" you say playfully, using his full name. jake ignores you and sits in front of you.

"kiss me," he says, holding your hands. "wh-what?" you stutter, surprised.

"kiss me," he echoes. "i want you to rub your nose with mine."

"whipped cream and all?" you ask. jake smiles. "that's part of the charm."

you take a breath before leaning in, your noses brushing, whipped cream melting into each other. you feel jake's soft lips on yours. suddenly he moves and he catches some whipped cream in his mouth. you laugh and do the same.

"see, yn, it wasn't bad."

#park sunghoon #sim jaeyun #park jongseong #enhypen #enhypen thoughts #fluff #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #enhypen 02z #sunghoon imagines #jake imagines #enhypen jake #enhypen jay #soft and fluffy #omg so fluffy #૮ ◞ ⸝⸝ ◟ ྀིა ！？：bonbon fraise event、#minleeeknow

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kqulitz · 11 months

Note

HEYHEYHEYYY

Idk if you do asks,but i like your writing style!

Sooo imma shoot my shot!

Could you maybe write a bill x reader(fem)

Where they are going to the hotel him and the guys stay but while they walk(only bill and reader) guys keep catcalling reader and at some point one grabs her (chose were) and he looses his shit and bill starts punching tge guy and then reader calms him down and then they get inside and cuddle?...

(Idk if its something too detalied so if it is just change it as long as it is with bill lol 😂)

protection

bill kaulitz x reader

summary: your boyfriend protects you after you get hassled in public.

tags: established relationship, protective! bill, catcalling, verbal harassment, reader’s ass does get grabbed, physical fights, piggyback rides, bill being a bit moody after but he gets over it :), the teeniest tiniest smidge of angst but with comfort, fluff!!

a/n: my asks aren’t open rn but i love this too much so i might as well open them lol and aaah i actually love this request (and ur ask is fine dw!!)

tw: (sexual?) assault (reader’s ass gets grabbed), mild violence

lowercase intended :)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

your giggles echo down the empty street, making your boyfriend grin wider. he loves making you laugh. you’re hand in hand with bill after deciding to go out for a walk to soothe the nerves of being on tour. bill’s hand is warm in yours, your palm sweats slightly but you don’t mind. “why are we walking anyway?” you ask, looking at him. “what? you want a piggyback ride instead?” he teases with a grin. “if you’re offering.” you joke, moving your hand so you could link arms with him. bill holds your arm even closer. “i just thought it would be nice to have a walk before we have to hit the road again.” he tells you.

a group of people catch your eye, yet you don’t give them too much attention. “maybe we can stop in a store and get some snacks for the others.” you suggest, squeezing bill’s arm a little tighter. walking late at night was always nerve-racking, yet you felt safe, you had bill after all. “good idea babe.” bill smiles at you, you reciprocate it. “hey, mädchen!” (hey, girl) a man shouts from across the street. you both glance in the direction of the group, you already feel a bit uncomfortable. “ignore them.” you mutter to bill, who nods. “dump that freak and come hang out with us!” another yells. you can hear their footsteps. bill squeezes your arm protectively, trying to get you to walk a bit faster.

“c’mon, girlie, don’t be like that.” one of the men goes to grab your arm, yet bill hits it away. “leave her alone.” your boyfriend moves you to the other side of the path, shielding you from the guy. “what, you her boyfriend?” he snarks. “i am, actually. now fuck off.” normally hearing this would make sleazy men turn away, yet these guys are persistent. “c’mon bill, let’s just go.” you mumble, feeling a little sick at the interactions. bill’s eyes soften as he looks at you, leading you away from the other guys. a hand grabs a handful of your ass, scrunching your skirt, making you gasp and immediately turn to smack the stranger’s hand away. you feel absolutely humiliated and gross, and as you go to grab bill’s hand to run to the nearest shop he spins around, punching the guy.

“bill-!” you yelp, grabbing his arm. you can’t count how many punches bill had got on the guy, but the stranger stumbles back at the force of them, almost falling as he cradles his jaw where the first attack had landed. “c’mon man, she’s not worth it.” his friend glares at bill, who glares back; ready to swing again if he has to. the three men leave, and you sigh. “you didn’t have to do that.” you grumble, walking ahead. bill furrows his brows. “what? he grabbed you! what did you want me to do? let you get grabbed?!” bill argues, following you into a store. you hush him softly as to not disturb any people inside the shop. bill broods quietly, clenching and unclenching his fists as he tries to calm himself.

you silently grab whatever snacks and drinks you see before approaching the counter, ignoring how bill shuffles behind you. “bist du in ordnung?” (are you okay?) the woman behind the counter asks, scanning your stuff for you. “ja, danke, es war eine seltsame nacht.” (yes thank you, it’s just been a weird night.) you reply with a small smile. she rings you up, bidding you and bill farewell as you both leave the store. “i’ll carry it for you.” he mumbles, grasping the bag gently. “i think you’ve done enough for tonight.” you sigh, yet the bag slips from your hand into his. bill frowns, yet doesn’t say anything else. you walk back to the hotel with him, yet bill eventually stops you around a block away. “what?” you ask, voice quite soft considering you were upset. “c’mere.” he turns, gesturing for you to get on his back. you can’t help the smile on your lips as you hop onto your boyfriend’s back, legs wrapping around his hips as his slender hands support your thighs.

bill carries you the rest of the way, thumbs gently stroking your outer thighs. you hug his shoulders, resting your head against his as you let your eyes close. it had been a long day and you couldn’t wait to get into your hotel room and relax. stepping into the lobby, bill finally lets you down off his back, turning and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “c’mon.” you fish the room key out of your pocket, leading bill to your hotel room. opening the door, you step inside, sighing softly. tom’s head rises from his pillow to look at the two of you. “you look like shit, bill.” he teases. “shut up.” your boyfriend sighs, flopping onto one of the beds. “shoes.” you tap bill’s leg in passing, making him sigh and sit up to undo his sneakers. “you brought snacks?” tom asks, sitting up in his bed. “yeah. where’s gustav and georg? i brought them stuff too?” you ask the other twin, who gestures to the door. “they got tired and went back to their room.” he replies as he helps you unpack some snacks.

“bill, can you be a babe and go give these to the boys for me?” you ask softly, fluttering your lashes a little. bill mulls it over for a second. “fine.” he stands, accepting the bag from you. “thanks babe.” you reply, turning away before he can kiss you. bill frowns a little, catching his brother’s eye over your shoulder as you sit beside tom, taking off your shoes as you get comfortable on the bed. tom shrugs, and so bill leaves. “did something happen?” tom nudges you gently. “no… kinda..?” you sigh, opening a drink. “what did he do?” he asks. “nothing… i just… i’ll tell you tomorrow, okay?” you mutter, glancing up at the door as bill comes back in. he’s silent as he gets into the bed the two of you were meant to share. “you’re not gonna be with him tonight?” tom whispers, you shrug. “i dunno…” you respond, voice equally hushed. bill furrows his brows, a pout on his lips. you hated seeing him upset.

the other twin glances between the two of you, realising how thick the tension was. “i’m gonna go shower..!” tom announces as he stands, stretching his arms overhead. “alright.” you reply, grabbing yours and bill’s share of the snacks as you move over to the other bed. bill barely glances at you as tom goes into the bathroom, giving you both privacy. you curl your arms around bill, resting your head on his shoulder. “you didn’t have to do that tonight.” you tell him, kissing his jaw gently. “i know… just- him grabbing you really pissed me off, i had to.” bill engulfs you in a big hug, burying his face into your hair. “well we’re back now, it’s over, okay?” you respond, letting him kiss your forehead gently. “are you mad at me?” bill asks anxiously.

“no… i was just upset at the fact you could of gotten hurt because of me…” you admit, curling closer. bill scoffs. “that’s the least of my worries. i’d rather go to jail than let a guy grab you like that.” you hit his chest gently. “you’re not going to jail..!” you scold half-heartedly. bill exhales slowly through his nose, it gently fans against your face. “yeah, sorry… i shouldn’t of freaked out.” bill sighs. “i’m mainly worried that someone caught you hitting that guy on camera- it could ruin you.” you frown, cuddling closer. “the street was absolutely dead, baby. no one saw us other than those guys.” bill points out. “fine… just don’t go punching guys in public on my behalf.” you reply, half joking. “i can make no promises, baby.” he smiles, stealing a kiss.

tom comes back from his shower, hair damp and fresh clothes on. he smiles at the sight of the two of you curled up together. “made up?” he jests, getting into his own bed. “mhm.” bill hums lowly, too busy relishing your cuddles to respond properly. “we’re fine, tom. don’t worry.” you smile, hand idly rubbing your boyfriend’s back. “good, i don’t wanna be on a tour when you two are upset at each other- it ruins the vibes on stage.” you roll your eyes. “that was one time, tom.” you reply, making the other twin laugh. “just don’t make it two.” tom teases, catching the pillow his brother throws at him. “whatever, tom.” bill sighs, kissing you gently. “and don’t fuck when i’m right here!” tom quips, this time you throw a pillow at him. tom laughs, surrendering as you both settle down again. “i’m keeping these, y’know?” tom states after a while. “okay, tom. goodnight.” bill rolls his eyes. “don’t tell me you two are going to bed early?” tom replies, leaning over a little. “no, we’re not. i think he’s just hoping you do.” you grin.

“you wound me..!” tom jokes, propping himself up on his elbow. “are you saying you don’t value my company?” he asks, a playful smile on his lips. “of course we do. every couple needs a third wheel.” you joke back, turning to look at tom. “hey..!” he gasps. bill can only laugh.

#bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz x reader #tokio hotel #tokio hotel x reader #tom kaulitz #// 🦇 kqulitz’s writing

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pedroshotwifey · 5 months

Text

Christmas Countdown Day 12 - Javi G.

Experiments

Pairing: Javi G. x afab!reader

Word count: 1.4k

Tags/Warnings: no use of y/n, anal sex, anal fingering, drug use (THC edible), < idk how that actually works but I tried by best lmfao, nicknames (baby, carino, hermosa), paddington 2 honorable mention, stuff im forgetting

Summary: You and Javi get a chance to try out some new stuff

A/N: Don't know if I really like this one tbh. I found it kinda hard to write for Javi G. and it was rly late and I was tired and I'm making excuses, but, like. yeah. Hope y'all like it anyway! Tmw's prompt is snuggling, and I don't know what pboy I'll be writing for that one yet, so feel free to leave a suggestion!

***

“Babe,” you drag out through a laugh. “Quit smiling!”

Javi attempts to obey your request, but only ends up smiling wider, a laugh of his own bubbling up in his throat.

The two of you are sitting on the bed naked, you on his thighs, placing an edible on his stuck-out tongue. You’ve already popped a tab in your mouth, now just waiting for it to dissolve.

Paddington 2 is playing on low volume on the TV in the corner, but neither of you are paying much attention to it.

You giggle as you finally get the tab to stick to Javi’s tongue, and he closes his mouth before leaning forward to plant a kiss on your lips. You sigh into him, placing your hands on his shoulders.

Javi looks you warmly in the eyes and runs a hand through your hair when you pull away.

“You ready, hermosa?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you grin back.

The two of you have had this conversation a few times before, but today just seems like the perfect day to go through with it. Neither of you have plans tomorrow, so you have all night to act out your deepest fantasies. Might as well do it with some THC.

You lift yourself off of his lap and position yourself so that you're on your elbows and knees in front of him.

“Fuckkk, baby,” Javi drags the words out. “So fucking sexy. Let me see your pretty holes,” he instructs you as he leans over to get the bottle of lube out of the nightstand drawer.

You follow his request, quickly reaching behind you to spread your cheeks, revealing both your virgin asshole and your glistening pussy lips.

“Damn it,” he groans from behind you, positioning himself on his knees. “Perfect fucking ass, baby.”

You squirm and have to hold in a whine at his praise, your mind already going a bit hazy as the drugs start to kick in. There’s a studden snap from behind you, making you flinch.

“No, ‘s okay, carino. Just gonna get you ready for me.”

You nod into the sheets and close your eyes, jolting when a cold substance starts to drip down your crack.

“Feels so weird,” you say, words tumbling out without your permission. Javi chuckles as he snaps the lube back up and sets it down.

“I know, baby. Just relax for me.”

Suddenly, Javi has a finger at your hole, gently spreading lubrication around the tight ring of muscle. He applies a bit of pressure, and the tip of his finger slips in with ease. There’s barely anything there yet, but you can already see the appeal.

“‘S good,” you slur into the sheets, your eyes still closed.

“That’s good, baby, jus’ tell me if it’s too much.”

Even Javi’s words are starting to sound a bit muffled, though that’s partly because he’s starting to feel the effects of the drug as well. He slides the rest of his finger in and starts to pump it in and out.

You moan as he curls the digit slightly and it hits a heavenly spot within you, your brows scrunching as your jaw goes slack. You buck back into him, already craving more.

“Gonna put another one in, okay?” Javi asks, leaning over slightly to get closer to you.

“Mkay,” you say, moving your hands so that you can grip the bed sheets. Javi Immediately takes over holding you open by gripping onto one cheek.

“There’s a good girl, doing so good for me, hermosa,” he assures you as he slips another finger in.

Soon enough, he’s able to keep three fingers inside of you comfortably. You’re a whining, moaning mess beneath him, but he’s almost just as bad with the noises he’s making.

Without warning, he moves the hand holding your asscheek down and between your legs, quickly finding your neglected clit and making you gasp. He rubs fast circles, causing you to keen and buck your hips.

Your brain feels like complete mush between the THC and the euphoria Javi’s producing. Every swipe of his fingers in your ass makes you groan and push back into him, so with the combination of your clit being touched, your orgasm is quick to approach.

Before you can warn him, a wave of pleasure is wracking your body as your cunt convulses around nothing. Javi picks up speed as he fingers your ass, muttering praises as you ride out your orgasm. You think you might be drooling a bit, but you don’t care enough to check.

“Alright, ‘m gonna fuck this little ass now,” Javi says as he pulls his fingers out of you, leaving you gaping slightly. You nod at him, making a non-committal but somehow affirmative sound.

He doesn’t waste another moment before lubing up his throbbing cock, tugging on himself a few times to warm it up for you.

He notches himself at your entrance, groaning as he slips his tip in.

“So good, baby, so fucking tight.”

“More,” you whine, reaching one hand behind you to attempt to grasp him. He laughs lightly at you, prompting you to giggle as well, only for you to be cut off with a moan as he feeds more of his cock into your ass.

You cry out when you feel his pelvis touching your ass, and he leans over you to let out a loud groan. He’s already sitting at that spot that makes you squirm, so there’s immediately a dull excitement low in your abdomen as you wait for him to move.

And he does, not a few seconds later. He’s slow as he pulls his hips away from you, dragging his cock along your walls, and then he slams back in, almost knocking the wind out of you. He keeps up a brutal pace, grunting and moaning as he grips your hips tightly.

You fold your arms under your head, trying to control the sounds you’re making with no success.

“‘S so g-good, Javi,” you say through a whine.

“I-I know, baby,” he says, sounding just as wrecked. “‘M already so fucking close. T-Tight little asshole feels so good.”

You move one hand down and start to rub at your clit, determined to come at the same time as him.

“Fill me up, baby,” you slur out. Javi whines in response, his pace picking up which makes you sink your front end deeper into the sheets. Your entire body feels heavy, and you’re grateful Javi is holding you by your hips so you don’t fall completely.

You feel a coil low in your belly, tightening and getting ready to snap. Every nerve feels raw, and your body feels like it’s getting warmer with every thrust from Javi and each pass of your fingers.

“C-Come with me now, hermosa” Javi spits out, his cock already twitching in your ass. The soft movement sets you off, and you begin to come again. Your ass tightens slightly around Javi, which triggers his orgasm, and he comes with a shout, filling you with hot ropes of his cum.

You gasp for air as you ride out your orgasms together, your movements going slower but sloppier at the same time. As soon as you’re both finished, you collapse, Javi coming down with you.

He slips out of you, which makes you whine. You can already feel his release dribbling out of your used hole and down to your untouched pussy. He finds a spot next to you on his stomach, his face next to yours.

Panting for breath, you stare each other in the eye, and then you start to giggle. What for, you have no idea, but you’re both cackling messes before long.

You scootch toward him slightly, ignoring the dull pain coming from your lower body. Your vision is slightly blurry, but you’re close enough to find his lips. You make out like a couple of teenagers for what seems like hours, but is actually only a few minutes.

After your lips start to feel numb, you separate, and you somehow have enough of a conscious mind to turn around and look at the clock. The numbers are too blurred for you to make them out, but you’re pretty sure you can make out a 3:02 if you squint hard enough.

When you turn around to make Javi get up and check for you, he’s already snoring. You smile and put your head back down, dozing off within less than a minute.

***

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runningfrom2am · 10 months

Text

on the one screen in my town; three

summary:

mason’s life with drew was absolutely perfect, she was happier than ever; until everything came crashing down all at once.

tags/warnings:

drew starkey x fem!popstar!oc, drug and alcohol use, death, grief, these tags are not exhaustive, idk i'll add to this as it goes on.

wc: 2.9k

series masterlist

masterlists

The extremely private funeral was only a few weeks later, and Mason was hardly herself anymore. Anyone who knew her could see she was just a shell of herself, hardly there, even when she spoke.

They managed to get a large, private estate in Washington, near her mothers home town, where Mason had grown up. This was perfect for the service, considering it was remote and by exclusive invite only. The last thing anybody wanted was photos or people showing up to ask questions. The media knows almost nothing at this point, just that something has changed and all of Mason's projects have been postponed. Spare, so far, her and Drew's wedding, which was scheduled to take place in two months and thirteen days.

Mason had been counting them down with a childish excitement, but now, as she stands over her mothers coffin, alone, she's dreading it. How can it go on when her mom won't be there to celebrate with them? She can't even imagine it.

"Mason.." She looks up quickly, turning to see Drew as he walks up to her. "It's gonna rain, we've got to head out." He says, wrapping an arm around her and kissing the side of her head.

Everyone else has left, including Este and her family, including Drew's parents, who were kind enough to make the trip from North Carolina, and including her father; and after waiting in the car for her for forty-five minutes, Drew decided enough was enough. He agreed to give her the time alone, of course he did, he wouldn't dream of saying no; but at this point it's not benefitting her anymore. Or him, to sit in the car and watch from a distance as she shakes and stares into space. It's hard to watch.

"Five more minutes?" Mason requests, not having the heart to look up at him.

"Of course." Drew nods, rubbing her shoulder gently. "I'm gonna stay, though."

She nods, leaning her head on his shoulder, lip quivering as she looks down at the coffin, yet to be buried. It's empty, she knows that, but that doesn't make it any easier for her to walk away.

"Jeez, Mace.." Drew sighs softly. He's never figured out what to say, he had hoped it would come to him eventually, but the only thing he's realized is that there is no right answer. Nothing can bring Catherine back, there is not a thing in the world he could do to make her feel better, and he feels so hopeless. "I miss her." He settles on, wanting her to at least know he kind of understands.

"I don't understand... I don't understand why." Mason chokes out, shaking her head and turning to bury her face in his chest, hugging onto him like her life depended on it. It was a car accident, of all things. Wrong place, wrong time. Why did it have to be her?

Drew just shakes his head. "I don't know. She's not gone, though, hey?" He makes sure she's listening, kissing her head again. "She's gonna haunt us like crazy, she could never leave you." He laughs slightly, trying to make her smile.

It works only a little bit, making Mason laugh slightly through her tears. "True. She's gonna be throwing eggs at me if I forget to eat breakfast." She adds, nodding slightly.

"I don't doubt it for a minute." Drew smiles, craning his neck to try and get a look at her smile. He's missed it, she hasn't smiled in weeks. They haven't really talked about any of this yet, but Drew knows he has to wait until she is ready. She's getting there, he can tell. "Can I take you home? I've got to get you fed before Cath uses her ghost powers to try and make you spaghetti or something."

"No." Mason shakes her head. "I hope she does."

"Okay, well, you can explain your late dinner to her so she doesn't come after me." He chuckles, giving her a gentle squeeze.

Three Years Ago

"Mason! I saw on Twitter that you went on a date this week. Twitter! How dare you not call me first!" Catherine says, excitement clear in her tone as soon as her daughter picks up the phone.

"Hi mom." Mason rolls her eyes playfully, dropping her hand to put it on speaker so Este can hear as well.

"Hi Ellen!" Este says, instantly putting her phone down to join the conversation. When they first met, Este had mistakenly remembered Catherine's name as being 'Ellen', and it was just too funny for the three of them to ever let go.

"You can't distract me! Tell me what's going on." Her mom says, making Mason blush and Este grabs the phone from her.

"Oh my god, Ellen, he's a dreamboat! Okay, so, his name is Drew, they met at that premiere I brought her to. That Netflix show I'm working on, Outer Banks? He's in the show. He plays Rafe."

"Oh yes, right. Okay." Catherine laughs, urging her on as Mason buries her face in her hands, shaking her head with embarrassment. "I haven't seen it yet Este but you know it's on my list."

"Yeah, of course! Anyway, you should have seen them, he was like all over her! I'm pretty sure he pretended to 'accidentally' bump into her so they could talk. It was so cute." Este gushes. "Hold on! There's pictures, I'll send them to you."

She grabs her phone again to find the pictures as Catherine fires questions at them. "What did he say? What's he like? Where did you go? Tell me everything I can't wait another minute!"

"Okay, mom, slow down." Mason intervenes. "It was just one date, it's not like he proposed or something."

"Well sorry for being excited! I didn't know that was a crime." She replies with a sassy tone.

"It's not. I just, I don't know. I don't know if I'm ready for another relationship, so I don't know if I'll see him again."

"Oh, shut up." Este says, rolling her eyes at her friend. "He's amazing. Seriously, he looks at you like you're the only girl in the world. Don't push him away because you're scared. Brady was a jerk, Drew's not like that."

"Okay but how do you know?"

"Uh, I don't know, maybe because I've worked with him for two years now?"

"No, you haven't, you've worked with Madelyn and Madison for two years. He was just occasionally around."

"Exactly, if there was any red flags about him they would have told me. I know all the tea, trust." Este insists, scrolling away on her phone looking for all the pictures of Drew and Mason from the premiere. "For example, okay, Rudy and Elaine? They're like, totally on the outs. They don't even know it yet but the rest of us can all tell. She's not great to him. Also I knew about Chase and Madelyn's break up before he did, okay? You always trust the makeup artist! I know everything, but with Drew? There's never been anything. No drama, no one has had a bad thing to say about him ever. Also, Ellen, I just sent the pictures to you."

"See! Honey, just give him a chance." Catherine agrees and Mason sighs. "Oh! Oh gosh, these are so precious! He's very handsome, Mason."

"Ugh, mom!" Mason groans, throwing her head back against the couch cushions.

"I'm not giving you a choice. You need to keep seeing him, it'll be good for you. Just one more date if he asks, then you can do whatever you want. Just give him a shot." She says seriously, pleading with her daughter at this point to at least try.

"I'm glad you say that because he did already ask!" Este tells her. "Mason just hasn't called him back yet."

"Of course he did! You're amazing! You're beautiful, you're so kind, I can't imagine that he wouldn't want to spend more time with you, Honey."

Mason sighs, cheeks totally red and she nods. "Okay, fine, mom. You've convinced me. I'll call him back."

Six Months Later

Drew's bouncing his knee rapidly as Mason drives them down the quiet block, on their way to her parents home in a small town in Washington. "Nervous?" She asks him with a giggle, looking over as he stares out the window.

"No, what makes you say that?" Drew replies, quickly ceasing the movements of his leg.

"Just a hunch." Mason shrugs. "But if you were nervous, I'd say 'Don't worry, they'll adore you'." She assures him, turning onto her block.

"This is it!" She smiles, and he tenses up as she slows down, pretending to pull over.

"Shit, okay, I'm scared." He admits, making her laugh.

"I'm kidding. That wasn't even the house." Mason giggles, pulling out onto the road again.

"Screw you." Drew laughs, shaking his head. "That's not funny, by the way."

"Okay, okay. Sorry. This actually is it though." She says, taking a right turn into the driveway.

"Oh god." Drew groans, leaning his head back and closing his eyes, taking a deep breath. He doesn't even know why he's so nervous, he just wants to make a good impression, but Mason has told him time and time again that they already have a good impression of him based on everything she's told them.

"Watch this. We have about five... four... three..." As Mason counts down, unbuckling her seatbelt and watching the front door of the small ranch home, which suddenly flies open and her mom comes running out, straight up to the car. "Yep, told you." She grins over at Drew, opening her door and stepping out.

"Mason! Oh, I missed you so much!" Catherine smiles, pulling her into a tight hug and kissing her cheek.

"I missed you too..." She smiles, hugging her back and looking over to her dad who is standing against the door frame with a smile on his face. He gives her a quick wave which she returns behind her moms back, before her mom is letting her go.

"Oh, you're Drew! Hi, dear! It's so good to finally meet you!" She's quickly at his side of the car, giving him a hug as well. Him and Mason share a look over her head, and Mason gives him two thumbs up as he chuckles awkwardly and hugs her mom back.

"It's nice to meet you, Catherine." He agrees as she lets him go.

"Oh please, call me Cath. Or Mom. Whichever suits you more." She waves him off, smiling up at him. "Geez, Este wasn't kidding, you are more handsome in person. And tall. My goodness."

"Oh my god, mom!" Mason laughs, blushing furiously as her dad makes his way down the stairs.

"What? I just want him to be comfortable!" Catherine defends, patting Drew on the arm and walking around to the back of the car.

"And you think saying that will help?" Mason giggles, quickly walking up to her dad and hugging him as well.

"Well, I don't know I'm just being nice." Catherine insists, opening the trunk to get their suitcases out.

"I've got it! We're good." Drew insists, cheeks still flushed as he joins her, grabbing them out for her.

"I should probably help him, hey?" Miles whispered to his daughter with a smile and she nods as he nudges her shoulder.

"Yes please, dad." She whispers back, laughing quietly as he walks away, and Mason returns to the car to grab her purse out.

"Here, let me help." Miles says, grabbing his daughters pink suitcase off the ground. "Mason doesn't travel light, hey?"

"No she does not." Drew chuckles, shaking his head.

"Something wrong with that?" Her dad asks, serious now as he raises an eyebrow at Drew.

"Oh- no! Definitely not, sir. Gotta be prepared, you know?" Drew says, the blood draining from his face as he tries to salvage the situation.

"Dad!" Mason scolds him, and he instantly breaks character, laughing at the boys response.

"I'm kidding, don't worry." He laughs, patting his shoulder. "I'm Miles, by the way."

Drew laughs awkwardly, clearly getting minor whiplash from the situation. "Nice to meet you, I'm Drew." He says, repeatedly glancing up at his girlfriend.

"Let's get everything inside before it rains, yeah? We don't have all that beautiful sunny weather that you guys are used to in North Carolina and LA." Catherine says, taking a bag from Drew before he can protest and making her way back inside.

By the time everyone else makes it inside, Catherine is already on facetime with Este, who's back in LA. Mason doesn't know who was more likely to call each other out of the two of them. "Gosh, honey, you were right about him he is lovely!" Catherine says, turning as she hears the door shut. "Oh, here they are! Want to say hi?"

"You know I do!" Este grins, still laughing about how quickly Catherine called her to talk about Drew once they arrived. "Hey guys! How was the flight?" She asks as Catherine passes the phone off to Mason.

"It was good. Not too long." Drew shrugs.

"Yeah. I miss you, though." Mason adds, pouting at her friend.

"Well why didn't she come?" Her mom cuts in before Este can reply.

"Work, unfortunately." She sighs dramatically. "But I'm free next week, if you'll still want some more company."

"Yes, of course! Come up here any time, honey."

"You heard her." Mason agrees, smiling at her friend.

"Alright I'll see you on Tuesday, then." Este giggles.

Mason passes the phone back to her mom as she says she's looking forward to it, grabbing her backpack to bring to her room.

"I guess I should give you the tour." Mason says to her boyfriend, pausing and looking around the open living room and kitchen space. "Alright that's about it. My room is down here, same with the bathroom, and my parents room." She says, making Drew laugh as she heads toward the small hallway, Drew following close after.

"It's such a cute house." He muses, looking around at the array of artwork on the walls.

"You can say it's small, Babes. It's fine." She giggles quietly as they step into her room, throwing her stuff on her bed under the window.

"No, I meant like, the decor and stuff. It's very cute." Drew insists, smiling at her and then looking around her room, which clearly hasn't been changed since she moved out a few years ago, to live with Este in LA.

"Oh, well, my mom will love the review so please tell her." Mason smiles, sitting down on her bed and laying back dramatically.

"I don't know what I expected your room to look like, but it was almost exactly like this." He chuckles, standing in the door frame and taking note of all the posters on the walls, mainly Taylor Swift, One Direction, some of her favourites. "Have you met any of them yet?"

"I met Taylor once." Mason says, sitting back up and smiling at her big 'Lover' poster. "She was really sweet, she said she wants to do a song together sometime, maybe grab lunch. I have her number. I feel like she just pitied me, though."

"No way, she knows talent when she sees it. Clearly." Drew smiles, pacing into the room and sitting next to her.

"Leave the door open!" Miles calls after them from the living room.

"Dad!" Mason huffs as her cheeks turn red and she stands up, walking to the door and looking down the hall at him. "I'm not sixteen anymore, I'll shut the door if I want!" She laughs, then pretending to dramatically slam it before she stops it and closes it gently.

"Who'd you bring in here when you were sixteen?" Drew laughs quietly, cheeks turning slightly red as well.

"Guess." Mason laughs, sighing and rolling her eyes as she joined him on the bed again.

"I've got a pretty good idea." Drew admits, looking around again and this time noticing all the music awards on one wall next to the closet, smiling a little to himself. "Brady still lives here, doesn't he?"

"Yep. Him and his new 'girlfriend'." Mason says, using a mocking tone to refer to her. "Well, not new anymore I guess. It's been over a year."

"He's an idiot, if she was smart she would have left him by now." Drew chuckles. "I'm lucky he's so stupid, honestly."

"Me too. I wouldn't have found out otherwise." Mason chuckles. "God, it's so embarrassing." She groans and covers her face with her hands. Drew laughs a little with her, reaching out and running his fingers through her hair. She shouldn't be embarrassed. It's funny to laugh about a year down the line, but it's hard to think about what she went through- when the world was watching. He wants to make sure she never goes through anything like that ever again.

"Mason! Honey, mind helping me with dinner?" Her mom calls from the living room and she sighs, sitting up.

"Coming!"

taglist:@veescorneroftheworld, @totalswag, @madelynie, @cecesrings, @slut4drudy, @mutual-mendes, @winterrrnight, @sadfury, @h34rtsformilli, @maybankslover, @ffgcfff (lmk if you want to be added!!)

#drew starkey fanfic #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey fic #drew starkey blurb #drew starkey #obx fanfic #rafe obx #drew starkey x oc

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chaosduckies · 2 months

Text

Restoration (Chapter 2)

And here’s the second chapter! I tried drawing something for it, but I am not under any circumstance the best artist. Maybe I can just try something later?

Word Count: 3,750

CW: Slight mentions of suicide, panic attacks, fear, idk if there’s anything else to tag

2-Nathan

It’s been an entire week of dragging myself all around the school. Trying to ignore the fact that there were giants practically everywhere I had looked. Nothing had ever worked though. No matter how hard I really tried to block out the loud voices that were always looming over me. No matter how much I had tried to stay as far away as possible. It was like those stupid laughs and that terrifying smile kept haunting me. And it doesn’t help that at the very end of the day I’m constantly in arms reach of living through that hell again.

I guess everything wasn’t all bad though. My mom was happier now since I was finally living a normal life again, but I don’t think I’ll ever live a normal life like she wants me to. You can’t just erase seven years of your life and act like they never happened. You can’t just completely heal scars.

Everything was okay though. Nothing bad has happened. Yet. It just seemed all too good. I mean, I had heard some rumors that were being spread about me. That I was mute, or that I was just deaf or something of the sorts. That wasn’t the case, I just find it hard to talk to people. Especially to people who just love making and spreading those stupid rumors. I guess they kind of helped me out though. I’d rather get through this year of high school alone than having to worry about losing friends. Can’t lose what you don’t have.

———————

Today was a normal day. Just some notes from classes here and there, mixed in with some quizzes. Nothing too much besides the huge pile of homework I have from my English class. I mean, I thought today would be an easy day of avoiding the heavy footsteps and people towering over us. Turns out it really wasn’t that easy.

After a week of being here, you’d think I’d have everything down. No. The complete opposite really. You annoy the wrong person, then everything goes downhill from there.

I sat at my usual corner table at lunch, trying to drown at the thundering voices from above and not mind that there were a group of people coming right over to me. Oh what the heck. All this time trying to avoid talking to people and all of a sudden these people want to… spike a conversation with me? It didn’t really look like it since they were all laughing. Or maybe they were just walking over to another friend o father is behind me?

“You’re… Nathan, right? The kid who sits in the back of my physics class?” The kid with dirty blonde hair asked, flashing a friendly smile and holding out a hand. I looked between the hand and himself. I mean he looks nice, but something wasn’t clicking right. Why would he walk up to me now of all times?

I shook his hand, retracting almost immediately as soon as he let go.

“How about you come sit with us instead of sitting here all alone? You seem so lonely.” He had offered, pointing somewhere behind him. I looked for any sign of a trick or some kind of prank, but if this was he was hiding his true intentions pretty good. My eyes darted to the three people behind him, then to one specific person who looked a lot younger and was sneaking up behind the other three and shaking his head towards me. What? What was that supposed to mean? To not trust these people? I mean I don’t entirely believe whatever façade this guy was putting up either.

I gave a nervous smile and shook my head, “Um… I-I’m okay.”

The younger boy who was hinting to me that these guys were no good nodded and was starting to leave before the one who I really didn’t trust at all laughed and started pushing me to get up.

“No really, I insist. You’ll have a blast!” He practically pushed me forward, hands around my shoulders and just guiding me through the place, going to the opposite side of the cafeteria. Also where the giants ate at. I knew something about this couldn’t be good. There was always a catch.

I tried escaping many times, but he just kept of pushing me up into one of those elevators and almost immediately my nerves shot up. The anxiety was clouding up my mind. My heart was racing, my body was trembling, and what was worse was that my fate might be sealed here. I knew that it was whenever that elevator let out a ding sound.

Everything in my world seemed to have stopped as so many sets of eyes were set right on me. My knees would have buckled underneath me had I not been practically shoved out of the elevator and right into the middle. Theirs stares felt like stabs through my back. I always felt anxious when people my height looked at me, it only makes sense that it would be worse when I had four other pairs of eyes that were giants on me. Great. Just great. I might as well die here.

Whatever was being said behind me and above me was all muffled as I just stared blankly down at the table. Or more like a floor for me. I guess it didn’t matter when I heard laughs around me, only making my eyes tear up slightly. Of course something like this had to happen. Everything was going all too good for me. There was no way it would stay like that for forever. It never does.

Then there was arguing, a slam on the table making me flinch and nearly run away had something not been holding my arm and trying to pull on me. I looked up, my eyes clear of any sign of tears, and seeing that same kid who had warned me about them. Speaking of, what was even going on? I looked back, seeing that one of the giants was covered in what looked like milk and whatever was for lunch and arguing to another person that was kind unclear to me at the moment. The other humans around were arguing along with them while I was being dragged away from it all.

“Come on! While they’re not looking.” The kid who looked younger than me had ordered me. He still held onto my wrist as I trailed behind him, nearly tripped in some areas and not even questioning where we were going. He told me just to follow him, and I wasn’t going to question it since he seemed to know what he was doing.

The arguing had stopped, and when that did, we stopped as well. There were multiple eyes trained on the argument that had just concluded, and I finally found out who had apparently started it. The guy from last period. The one I’m forced to sit with. What caught me off guard was how his hand laid down flat, palm up by the edge of the table like he was waiting fro something while his attention was focused on trying to convince the others that it was an accident. What was an accident again?

I gulped, trying to walk away from his hand, only for the younger kid to drag us on and then, what’s his name again? Ryker? Rykers hand had started moving again, making me nearly vomit. Oh heck. I was doing this again, huh? Led into another trap? I tried looking for a way out, but the only way out was just a huge drop that would kill me.

“Again, so sorry…” And the hand moved again, making me trip and fall face first into the fleshy surface. So did the kid with me. But he just stuck his tongue out at Ryker, who was currently cupping his hand to make it look like he wasn’t carrying anyone. I guess it worked since he wasn’t stopped by anyone. But that did not stop my body from trembling violently.

“Hey… um, are you good? You look like your having a panic attack.” The younger kid asked, helping me back up, but I just fell right back onto my butt. Panic attack? No. Just everything in my body was trying to make me run, but I couldn’t. If I did, I would just walk right into my death. My nerves and anxiety was all over the place, body trembling violently, and heart beating fast all over again. Yet, this time, I was still aware of everything that was happening all around me.

It was only a few seconds later when Ryker had stopped moving, and we weren’t in the cafeteria anymore. Just in the hallway right outside. But please tell me I was not about to be kidnapped or something. But, against all odds, the opposite happened. I was slid off of his hands and by the human doors that led the cafeteria.

I braved looking up, only seeing that same nervous smile as the first day we had met. I stood up, looking for the other kid, finding him crossing his arms and giving a glare to Ryker, who rolled his eyes and sighed, “What’d I do wrong this time?” Unlike the usually loud voices, his was soft.

“You could’ve at least been a little more gentle while moving.” He stuck his tongue out, earning yet another set of rolled eyes.

“Sorry,” His attention was diverted to me, giving a confused look then surprised, “It’s Nathan, right?”

I jumped at the mention of my name. So he recognized me? I was really hoping he didn’t. There was no way I could speak if I couldn’t even move by myself. What do I do? The only door nearby led to the cafeteria, and I still needed to grab my bag. But if I stayed, he’d expect me to answer and actually talk, which was one of the many things I wouldn’t do at the moment. My head felt dizzy again, and my anxiety was building up.

Ryker gave me a confused face before giving a look to whoever the other younger guy was, who just shrugged his shoulders and walked over towards me.

“Hey… are you okay? Seriously. We’ll take you to the nurse of you’re not feeling good.” He had offered, and just as soon as Ryker had made a single movement, I dashed out of there, into the cafeteria, and out another door that took me the long way back to my class.

————————

Why did I react that way during lunch? I had no idea. Why was I dreading the end of the day? Well because I’d have to actually face Ryker again, and I’d have to explain what I was even thinking. I mean, what kind of person doesn’t thank someone for practically saving their life? Me. I don’t. But otherwise, I still wasn’t sure how I’d handle last period. I’m pretty sure he’s going to ask me about it. Even if he’s made no attempt to talk to me at all for the entire week.

And even being terrified for my life, I still dragged myself into that terrible classroom. Finding that everything was moving in slow motion. I could hear my heart beat, the way people were laughing in the back of the classroom, every tremor in the ground as a giant took a step. And then the desk I had feared all along. The one where Ryker was just sitting down, doing whatever with his journal as always. I never looked back, seeing as he would be annoyed if I did. Now I’m too scared to even take that stupid elevator up. To scared to take even one more step closer.

The only thing that had me moving again was the sound of the bell that marked one minutes to get to class. I rushed into the elevator, my hand hovering over the button that makes it go up. I could just hide in the bathroom. Most people do that anyways. But what if he’s already seen me? Plus, my mom would be wondering why. She already thinks I’m getting used to it here, and I couldn’t risk seeing her feel so heartbroken after my lies.

So, I did the only thing I could. Press the button and wait for that dreadful ding that motioned for me to get out. It felt like the longest five seconds of my life. There was nothing I could do though. I couldn’t just give up now when I was already up there. If he didn’t know I was there then, he knows I am now.

The elevator reached the top, and I could render was the stabbing feeling of having a pair of eyes on me. I always hated having any kind of attention on me. Or maybe that wasn’t the word for it.

I took a deep breath, hoping nothing could go wrong, and then took my first step, then another, and another, hiding my face as I kept going along, and eventually the stabbing feeling of eyes on me disappeared, letting me hurry to my seat and bury my head in my arms. This is bad. who thought I could do this? What made anyone I was ready to do any of this? What if I was just annoying him? What if-

The teachers loud voice interrupted my thoughts, “These next two weeks I’d like to have a little fun! I want you and your partner to discuss anything interesting about yourselves, or if you have any special interests. I’ll tell you what to do after ten minutes.”

My heart quite literally shattered. What. The. Hell. This day couldn’t get any worse. Because as soon as the teacher dismissed us, the classroom was full of squeamish conversations and laughs, while I couldn’t even turn around. I knew Ryker was looking at me too since he was just annoyed with me at this point. I wouldn’t be surprised if he would’ve just stood up and left.

And instead of getting yelled at like I thought I would, he showed me a piece of paper. Brought up all the way up to me, and written, I was guessing as small as he could, small enough to fit on the piece he ripped off.

‘It is Nathan, right?’

I worked up the urge to turn around slightly, seeing a thoughtful smile plastered over his face. Was this acting? He was supposed to be annoyed with me, not being friendly. This was crazy. I looked away before he could see me, digging my head deeper into my arms. Why was I even put into this class? Why couldn’t I have just stayed at the hospital? They could have taught me the same thing just without so much interactions. It’s my last year of high school so I really don’t see the point.

Seven minutes had gone by without a single word. No other attempt to communicate, nor did he even so much as make any kind of noise. It kind of felt quiet all around me despite the many conversations just barely picking up. I just don’t see myself trusting someone who could very well be just like the others.

“And how are you two doing?” The teacher cheered, and I couldn’t help myself from picturing her smiling awkwardly as she saw how both us hadn’t even as much spoken one word to each other.

“I don’t want to force him…” Ryker had mumbled softly, sounding a bit sad. How much I would give to say sorry. At least give him some kind of an apology! He’s the one giving an effort meanwhile you’re making things harder for him. And that spun into even more horrible thoughts. I was really just going to make him fail this class. I would be the cause for him getting yelled at or whatever else happens. He probably just wants me to get this over with so we could eventually never talk again.

“Hmmm. How about you both see me after class? It’s nothing bad, I promise.” Mrs. Kay had finished, smiling and walking off to the front of the class. My body only started shaking even more violently. I can’t do this. Why. Why did this have to happen to me? There was no reason for all of this. Just leave me the broken way I was. Get Ryker a new partner so he doesn’t have to be annoyed with some broken human.

Something had touched my back. Oddly soft, but still, I jumped and almost tripped over the desk to stand up and face away from the touch. Ryker’s hand stayed frozen in shock as his eyes had wide dead at my very dramatic reaction. But, now, I was standing up and facing him. Not an ideal situation.

“Er… sorry.” He had apologized, stuffing his hand back underneath the desk. He gave an unsure look before letting out a sigh, “Should we start over? I’m Ryker.” He didn’t offer a hand thankfully, because I honestly thought if he did I would just run straight off the desk. Honestly that didn’t sound like too bad of an idea. Although, now I think I actually need to reply back to him. I can’t just keep ignoring him for the third time in a row.

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Of course nothing did. So the next best thing was just to nod to a previous question he had asked nearly ten minutes ago and hope he knows why.

At first, he gave a confused look. But I guess he had finally realized since he was smiling now, “Sorry about what happened during lunch. Lucky said to help out, and I can’t really say no to him.” He laughed nervously, a hand behind his head and trying to convince my hot-wired mind to even make so much as a gesture towards him. But at least now I knew who to thank for helping me out in that situation. Of course Ryker too but maybe I could just this Lucky guy to thank him for me.

“Ten minutes is up! Now time for the actual fun,” She was passing out a paper to everyone in the class, and gave a sad smile directed towards me as she gave the paper to Ryker, who stared at it like it would haunt his nightmares. My heart started beating faster in my chest as he read the paper, eyes darting to me from time time. This was a Human and Giants Interactions and current events class. Which meant it had something to do with some kind of interaction. Again, I was the worst person to be placed in this class.

“As you can see, this is a project for you and your partner. I’ve already made arrangements to twist the humans classes to match up with your partners. This is your first project in this class, and your schedules will stay like this for two weeks starting tomorrow.” My knees nearly buckled underneath me. That was a bit drastic. I didn’t know they could do that. Could they? Still, I didn’t particularly like the idea that I’d have to be taken to all of Rykers classes. Especially when I had finally grown used to mine. It was still early in the school year too. I didn’t think she would have a project this early.

“Your giant partner is responsible for taking you everywhere unless you can get somewhere without them. While your human partner is going to trust you with everything until the school day ends. Think of this like a test exercise! Just a very long one.” Mrs. Kay giggled, waving us off to talk once again. Of course this would be the first project. Barely anyone knows each other in this class so it would be some sort of dramatic trust exercise. Seemed more like a death sentence to me though. Where I’m being forced to trust someone who defiantly hated this project just as much as I did.

The room was full of bright conversations again. While we were sitting there in silence. Ryker had stuffed the paper in his bag and looked at me. Through my eyes, I saw a terrifying grin, making me jump and fall on the floor, bringing my knees close to my chest and my arms in front of my face. Pathetic? Yes. Do I think making myself look even smaller helps the situation? Yes. Why? Because I can’t think clearly when I’m terrified.

After a while, I was calmed down enough to somewhat get out of the little ball I made myself. Ryker kept worried face as he finished reading whatever book he was, and I couldn’t help but notice that there were some people who looked over here and laughed. At Ryker? Why? Did I make them laugh at him? And yet another thing to feel guilty about.

The bell rang, but neither Ryker or I moved, already fearing what was about to be said to the both of us. I guess I’ll miss the bus today, but I could always walk.

“Now, about you two,” She walked over to us, “I’m sorry Nathan, honey, I bet they haven’t told you that I know about your… past recollections, but this class is supposed to help humans and giants get along together, and Ryker here is sweetest person you’ll ever meet. You’ve both lost someone and something dear, and I decided that you two would be perfect to pair up with. So, I have a secret project for you both,” She smiled softly, “Don’t worry, there’s no due date, and it’s not a grade. I just want you two get along. Become friends and get to know one another. Maybe you’ll help out each other. Just give it a try.”

Ryker looked at me, curiously, and sympathetically. What did that mean? Doesn’t matter. I was only focused on this “secret project” we were supposed to do. Do I really have to trust him? I’ve run out of that a long time ago and I’m not about to start placing whatever was left in a stranger who probably is just faking being nice. But I guess I had no choice.

I hesitantly nodded, followed by Ryker who was waiting for my response.

And I guess here starts a terrible outcome of events. One I dreaded to even be part of.

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Second chapter done. I did not take the time to even edit any of this, so I’m sorry if there are some mistakes. Otherwise, hope you enjoyed!

I plan on doing a chapter once a week and if not, then every other week.

#G/t #gt #g/t community #g/t writing #giant/tiny #sfw g/t #g/t fearplay #g/t angst #oc: ryker #oc: nathan #Restoration #Who knows maybe I’ll draw something decent of these two #Idk

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