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malfoysstilinski · 3 years

Note

Can you a Draco Smut where he gets bored and literally just decides to make out with and suck your clit slowly like lazily and teases you into an orgasm?

bored | draco malfoy smut 18+

draco malfoy x fem!reader

summary: draco’s bored so he decides to eat you out

warnings: 18+, smut, oral (female receiving), degradation?, really cute boyfriend!draco

word count: 2.1k

For some reason, lessons today felt like they had dragged on for far too long. Snape’s monotone voice had only drowned you deeper into a pit of boredom from where you sat at the back of his DADA lesson during the last period of the day, hoping that time would just speed up so you could spend your Friday evening with your boyfriend.

And finally the time came where Snape eventually dismissed the class, but not without a pile of homework and a stern message about the N.E.W.T exams quickly approaching. You didn’t even want to think about any of that right now; N.E.W.T level DADA would be the death of you, you were sure of that much.

“Come on pretty girl,” Draco whispered, his arm tucking around your shoulders, your head leaning on his shoulder slightly as you left the classroom. “You can nap in my room, or read - whatever you want.”

You smiled at that - you loved Draco’s room. He was a prefect, not to mention a Malfoy, so he got special privileges; one of them being a room all to himself. His double bed was far comfier than the single you had in your dormitory, which was where you found yourself five minutes later.

Your robe had been ditched; chucked somewhere onto the floor before Draco could even enter the room. You collapsed onto his bed, lying horizontally across the bottom half and staring up at the ceiling as you heard a huff come from Draco. You craned your head in time to see him swipe your uniform off the floor.

Draco didn’t even bother to scold you anymore - no matter how many times he said it, you always forgot his ‘nothing but feet on the floor’ policy. It sort of surprised you when you found out how tidy he was — much more organised than you, who couldn’t even be bothered to take your shoes off.

You wiggled your legs which were dangling off the end of the mattress and Draco rolled his eyes, finishing folding your robe and placing it on the back of his desk chair before moving over to your feet. His hand grabbed the back of your heel and he began to undo the laces of your school shoes, staring at you in amusement.

“You have me running around like a House-Elf for you,” he huffed.

You grinned up at him, lifting your head so you could see him properly. “I know,” you chirped.

Draco finally got both your shoes off, your toes wiggling in your tights as they thanked you for finally releasing them from their tight confidements. You watched your blond boyfriend move around the room to place your shoes neatly by the door before he peeled his robes and shoes off too, putting them away also tidily.

“You’re lucky you’re pretty, darling,” Draco muttered, shooting you a look as he climbed onto his bed, his back against the headboard as he grabbed his book off of the bedside table. “You gonna sleep?”

“No, just lay here,” you murmured back, your fingers fiddling with the detail of his silk bed covers. “I just want to… reflect on my day.”

“Oh, that meditation thing you’ve been doing?” Draco hummed, not lifting his eyes from his book as he stretched his legs out, them resting by your head from where you were curled up at the bottom of his bed.

“Reflecting is not necessarily meditating, Draco,” you reminded him for the hundredth time. “Just because you have no thoughts whatsoever.”

“I have no thoughts?” Draco glanced over, raising his eyebrows at you.

You giggled. “Yeah - I bet it’s just lift music in your head.”

“Lift music?” Draco repeated, confused.

Your eyes lit up - another fact you could give him. You loved how confused he looked whenever you told him about the other world he had grown up despising. You adored the way he asked questions and pretended not to be interested sometimes.

“A lift is a Muggle invention. It’s a metal box thing that replaces stairs sometimes; you get in, press which floor you want and it takes you up or down,” you explained to him, “And there is music inside it sometimes. And it’s really slow and…” You noticed the weird look on Draco’s face, your voice fading away. “Never mind.”

“I don’t get it,” Draco hummed before turning back to his book.

It made you giggle and shake your head. You closed your eyes soon after, just thinking. About Draco, about the homework Snape had set you, the Hogsmeade trip you planned to go on with Pansy next weekend…

You can feel his eyes on you.

Your own peel open and you turn to face him. “What?”

“My book’s shit,” he admitted.

“You’re halfway through it.”

“Yeah, and it’s shit.”

You frowned, your eyes moving from his face to the cover of said shit book. “I recommended that to you,” you pouted slightly.

“Which is why, as you can see, I’ve tried to like it - but I can’t,” Draco said, placing the book back down onto the bedside table. “It’s boring. And I’m bored.”

“How?” You cocked an eyebrow at him. “Classes literally ended twenty minutes ago max.”

Draco shot you a look. “So? I’m still bored.”

“Too bad, I’m -”

“You’re meditating, I know.”

“It’s not - Ugh, whatever. Yes, I’m meditating, so leave me alone,” you replied, rolling your eyes before closing them yet again.

There was more silence. Draco seemed to respect your wishes, not saying another word. All you could feel was the silk sheets beneath your body, all you could smell was Draco’s scent and the fresh fragrance of his bed covers, and all you could hear was the sound of your breathing and Draco’s - as well as the sound of him adjusting himself on the bed a little bit.

You wished you could stay like this forever. After the long day you’d just had, this was the perfect way to end it. Maybe some cuddles from Draco would make it better, but that could come a bit later, maybe after dinner.

Your thoughts were interrupted when you felt a weight above your legs. Your eyes cracked open and you glanced down, your brows furrowing at Draco. He wasn’t even looking at your face, he didn’t say a word, but he reached for your skirt and flipped it above your stomach, pulling your tights and panties down in one go.

“Draco -” You were cut off by his cold finger sliding up through your folds.

“Shh,” Draco muttered, still not even glancing at you, too focused on what was between your legs. “Go back to your meditating. I’m just… entertaining myself.”

You couldn’t complain with that. You found yourself complying, your head tilting back so you were facing the ceiling, your eyes closing. You weren’t really wet, much to Draco’s dismay, but you soon felt him spitting on your clit and felt it drip down your folds. His fingers slid it around, knocking purposefully at your bundle of nerves and causing arousal to spike through you.

When you felt yourself begin to get wet, your clit throbbing beneath his lazy, aimless touch, you couldn’t help but open your eyes, glancing down at him. He wasn’t even sitting between your legs - just beside you, his hand reaching for your cunt like he was half-heartedly playing some sort of game.

Draco’s silver eyes were entranced by your cunt, his fingers experimenting as they changed direction, moved about, all so agonisingly slow. After a minute of the torturous pace, his eyes flickered up to you and he lifted his hand towards your face.

“Wanna taste?” He asked as if he was talking about sharing food.

You opened your mouth anyway, two of Draco’s fingers slipping inside. You sucked around his digits, your tongue being invaded by your own taste - a taste that Draco insisted he could never get enough of. He pulled his hand away when you were done, looking back down at your cunt and beginning to rub again.

“Draco,” you whispered desperately as he hit the right place.

He glanced back up at you, smirking a little. “Does it feel good?” He murmured, voice deep and barely above a whisper.

“Mhm,” you mumbled back, eyes clenching shut again.

His mouth touching your cunt nearly made you jump. Everything about what he was doing was so lazy, as if he had all the time in the world and he wasn’t there to make you cum but to just satisfy his own boredom and curiosity. Maybe that was the only reason he was touching you like this, but either way, you liked it. You liked the teasing nature of the whole thing, even though it was tortuous how slowly his tongue came out to lick up your folds.

Everything inside you wanted to wither and grab at his hair and tug, begging him to go faster, but you refrained; your hands remained gripping the sheets beside you, your small whimpers that made Draco’s cock hard filling his bedroom.

His mouth was wet, a mixture of his own spit and your arousal, as it wrapped around your bundle of nerves, your back nearly arching as he began to suck softly. Your breath hitched, not used to the aimlessness of it all. It almost felt careless, but his hand on your thigh said otherwise as his thumb stroked circles against your skin.

Your lips pursed together, a moan threatening to leave your mouth as Draco sucked, his aristocratic-like lips working idly. His tongue peeked to swipe across you and this time your stomach clenched, your legs nearly clamping around his head. But Draco’s grip on your thigh tightened a bit in warning.

“Draco, please…” You whimpered, one hand going down to gently grasp at his platinum locks.

His head pulled away with your hand still in his hair, much to your dismay. He leaned his head against your thigh, staring down at your dripping cunt. His finger moved towards it and he circled your swollen clit, feeling your legs tremble slightly beneath him. Then his thumb came out and he rubbed it in small figure of eights, his breath still fanning you from where he used your thigh as a pillow.

“So pretty…” Draco muttered.

You swore if he didn’t start acting like his usual rough self then you were going to start crying. It was agonising, the way he seemed to not care. In a way, it felt degrading - like this was for him and not for you, and it only made you soak his fingers even further.

Draco’s mouth dived back in for your clit. It was like he was making out with it, his lips capturing it and sucking, his teeth grazing it slightly just to hear your small hisses and loud whimpers. His nose nuzzled against your mound, his hands still on your thighs.

When you looked down, all you could see was the slow bobbing of his head. His tongue was unmatched, skillful and taunting, slow and painful, and you would do anything to cum right now. Anything.

You could feel the tightening sensation in your stomach, your brain growing fuzzier and fuzzier as you acted with your hormones rather than your brain. Your hand gripped his hair tighter, your hips rolling for more, faster friction. You half-expected Draco to pull away from you and warn you to keep still, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“I’m gonna cum,” you admitted breathlessly.

Draco hummed against you, the vibrations making you cry out a little. You lifted your head back up to look down at him, finding his eyes already concentrated on you as he sucked your clit, rolling the knot between his tongue gently. You moaned loudly.

“Fuck, I’m cumming,” you hissed quickly before your orgasm washed over you.

Draco helped you ride it out, his tongue lapping up every wave of arousal, his hands still brushing your thighs comfortingly. He even groaned around your clit, encouraging you as you rolled your hips, your legs trembling even harder. His name slipped past your lips several times as well as some curses, before you were left breathing heavily on the mattress.

A whine left you when Draco didn’t stop kissing your cunt. “Draco…” You jerked beneath him slightly. “I’m sensitive.”

“I’m bored,” he murmured back as he pulled away, his fingers working at your clit and making you yell out in a mixture of pain and pleasure.

You knew for certain now; this was never about pleasing you, it was always about satisfying himself - and you knew you weren’t going to be let off the hook anytime soon.

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#draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy smut #harry potter #draco malfoy x female reader #draco malfoy fanfic #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco #malfoy

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ladydimitrescuspet · 3 years

Text

Tricked And Treated [NSFW]

Ao3 link! I forced myself to write this and finish it because I have so many unfinished things right now. I'm not pleased with this 100% but please enjoy and tell me your thoughts if you wish to! and sorry for any grammatical errors!

Summary: lady dimitrescu's daughters have tricky plans for you, but your lady is the one that ends up giving you your treat! also orgasm delay/denial in this, but not by your lady!

11. “I bet you think you’re real cute letting them put their hands all over you. We’ll see how cute you look later when I get you home.”

***

“Um, I really don’t think this is a good idea.” You said as they led you through Mother Miranda’s home.

Daniela giggled. “Don’t worry, pet, it’ll be fun.” Daniela replied with a wink.

Cassandra wrapped her arm around your shoulder and leaned into your ear. “We’ll make you feel good. And we won’t tell Mother if you don’t.” The kiss she pressed to the shell of your ear sent a shiver down your spine.

You let out a small groan at the thought of their Mother. “We really should go back. I’m sure your Mo-“

Bela cut you off as she opened the door to a room. “Mother thinks were taking you on a Mother Miranda approved house tour. Stop worrying so much, Y/N.”

You let out a small yelp when you were tossed on the bed, Daniela immediately straddling you. “You know, it’s a real shame that we have to sneak around to get some alone time with you, pet. If Mother would just allow us to play with you every once in a while….” Her thought trailed off. “Nevermind that. Bela, Cassandra, make our little pet feel good, I’ve got plans for that pretty little mouth.” Daniela grinned at you.

You gulped as she moved closer to you. “You want me to… eat you out?” You asked. Daniela nodded her head. You shuddered as you felt someone press a kiss to your exposed belly. When did they unbutton your shirt? “Won’t your Mother know?”

“Of course Mother will know, but we’ll just tell her that her little pet tried to seduce all of us.” Cassandra replied with a sly smile as she unbuttoned your pants.

You frowned a bit. “But I’m not, I would never. Please don’t tell her that.” Your lip trembled a bit.

Daniela ran her fingers across your cheek. “Oh, you poor thing. If you just cooperate with us then we won’t tell her how much of a slut her pet is.” Daniela pressed a kiss to your lips before she positioned herself over your mouth. “I cum first and then you do, got it?” You nodded your head before Daniela lowered herself onto you. “Perfect, now make me feel good, little one.”

You pressed your tongue against her as your hands came up to her hips. You moaned into her as you felt someone else’s tongue press up against your sex and felt fingers enter you. You had no idea who was doing what, but that didn’t matter to you as you continued to lick and suck at Daniela’s clit.

Daniela rolled her hips over your face before letting out a moan. “Gods, your tongue feels amazing, pet.” One of her hands came into your hair to push you deeper into her, the other one coming up to the headboard.

You felt someone press a kiss to your stomach as their hand reached up to grab your nipple, twisting it between their fingers. You let out another groan into Daniela as you started to pay more attention to her clit, sucking at it and licking at it.

“Pet, I’m so close, keep going, keep going, don’t stop.” Daniela moaned out. You pressed your tongue into her entrance, allowing her to fuck your mouth, her walls clenching around your tongue. It wasn’t long before her orgasm washed over her and you continue to lick and suck at her as she rode out her high. Daniela smeared a bit more of her cum over your face before getting off of you.

You let out a small gasp as you felt yourself getting closer to your orgasm, your eyes glancing down to see Cassandra eating you out while Bela fingered you. You arched your back as Cassandra sucked hard on you while Bela curled her fingers inside of you as she continued to thrust in and out of you.

“Please, I’m so close, so close.” You whimpered out.

“Aww, too bad, we really shouldn’t keep Mother and the others waiting, this tour of ours has been far too long.” Daniela said with a grin before she left the room.

You groaned as Cassandra and Bela moved from you. Cassandra licked her lips. “You do taste good, pet.”

Bela giggled as she licked her fingers. “Cass is right, you taste divine. If you’re not downstairs in 5 minutes, Mother won’t be too pleased with you.” Bela said before following after Cassandra.

You groaned into the pillow. “It’ll be fun they said, we won’t tell if you won’t they said. Bunch of fucking liars.” You said as you got up to redress and straightened yourself up, rubbing your thighs together to help ease the uncomfortableness between them, the fabric of your pants did not help.

“Who’s a bunch of liars, my dear?” A voice asked from behind you causing you to go stiff. “Don’t get quiet now, darling.”

You slowly turned around to face her. “My Lady, is th-“

She raised her hand to silence you. “I bet you think you’re real cute letting them put their hands all over you, don’t you?” Your face flushed. “Don’t worry, dear, we’ll see how cute you look later when I get you home. Now come along, little, we mustn’t keep Mother Miranda and her guests waiting.”

The evening in Mother Miranda’s home went how you expected it to go. You were shifting uncomfortably the whole time and the Lady’s daughters wouldn’t stop teasing you despite the glares from their Mother. When it was time to go, you and Lady Dimitrescu took a different carriage home than her daughters.

“Dear,” The Lady starts, breaking you away from staring out the window to look at her. “The girls said that you seduced them, is that true?” You frowned before shaking your head. Your Lady smiled slightly at your reply. “As I suspected. You’re loyal to me, aren’t you?”

“Yes, My Lady.” You replied. Where was she going with this. “If I may speak, I told them that it was a bad idea.”

Alcina raised her eyebrow. “And what, pray tell, did happen, little one?”

You flushed at the question. “Oh, um, I… I’m not sure I should say, My Lady.” You chewed on your lip as you watched your Lady purse her lips, tapping her fingers on her thigh causing you to sigh. “Daniela made me eat her out while the other two pleasured me and then she wouldn’t let me cum, that’s when they left.” You explained quietly.

Your Lady looked at you with a sympathetic look. “Oh, you poor thing.” You shivered at her words. “My devious daughter didn’t let you cum, hmm?” You nodded your head. “Would you like to, darling?”

“Yes, My Lady, please.” You whined. Alcina motioned for you to come over to where she was sitting at and you obeyed. As you went to sit next to her, she pulled you into her lap. “My Lady?” You questioned.

“Hush now, little one. Tell me how you want it.” Alcina purred into your ear, nuzzling her nose against your neck. “Don’t be shy, dear, tell your Mistress how you’d like to be pleased.”

You gulped before replying. “Yo-your fingers, My Lady.”

Alcina hummed against you. “That wasn’t so hard was it?” Alcina asked as switched your position so you were straddling her. You watched as she removed her glove from her hand so she wouldn’t get it dirty. “You smell absolutely delicious, little one.”

“Thank you, My Lady.” You replied. It felt so weird to thank her for that compliment. You watched as she began to unbutton your pants, helping you stand for a moment while she took them off. She ran her hands up and down your thighs, sending another shiver through your body.

Alcina smiled at you before she laid you down on the seat, moving to the corner of the carriage. “You cum whenever you want, dear, I don’t mind. This is your treat for having to deal with the way my daughters tricked and treated you earlier, I’m so sorry I let them take you away.”

“My Lady, it’s fine. I just, please, please, can I have your fingers inside me?” You asked, squirming a bit. Your Lady nodded her head before she started teasing you. She grinned at the small moan you let out when she inserted two of her fingers inside of you. “Oh Gods, thank you, My Lady.” You pushed back onto her fingers to get them deeper inside of you.

“Hmm, someone’s eager.” Alcina said, chuckling before she placed a hand on your hip to stop your movement. “Don’t tire yourself out, darling, let me help you relax.” She leaned down and pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, the position she was in didn’t look the most comfortable, but Alcina seemed determined to make it work.

“Fuck, My Lady.” You groaned as you felt her tongue press flat against you, her teeth slightly scraping against you causing your sex to tingle a bit. “Please, I need more, I’m so close.” You let out a whimper when she sucked on you hard.

“Be a good little pet and come for me, dear.” Alcina said before she continued to pleasure you with her mouth and fingers. It only took a few more flicks from her tongue and the curl of her fingers for you to find your release. Her tongue and hand movements only slowing down when your orgasm was coming to an end. Alcina licked at her lips before she pressed her fingers into your mouth. “Don’t you think that you taste delicious, my pet?” You nodded your head as your fingers wrapped around hers so you could lick them clean of yourself.

When you were done, she wiped her fingers on your shirt before helping you up and pulling you into her lap. She pressed a kiss to your temple before whispering into your ear. “When I’m done with you tonight, you won’t ever make the mistake of submitting to my daughters. Is that clear, little one?” She asked with a small growl. You nodded your head and Alcina smiled. “Good. Now rest, dear, you’re going to need your strength for what I have planned for you.”

#lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu's daughters #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #all of them x reader #resident evil #resident evil village #resident evil 8

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fanficbitch · 3 years

Text

In Another Life // Two Ghosts

Aaron Hotchner x y/n

March 2013

It’s current day at the BAU. I’m working at my desk like normal, every so often peeking over at Aaron’s office every few minutes. It’s just comforting knowing that he is so close to me while I work. Spencer, Alex and JJ work at their desks around me. I am very engrossed in my work, but look up when I hear footsteps up to me. I look up and jump in my seat when I see the face in front of me. It’s Haley, with her blonde hair, it was brown the last time I saw her. The last time I saw her laying in a pool of blood…

“Haley,” I blurt out.

“Hi Y/N,” she smiles. She adjusts her bag on her shoulder then looks around the BAU. “Is Aaron in his office?”

“Uh, yeah. Do you need to talk to him about Jack?” I ask, but she laughs at me.

“No,” she says with a crude smile. “I’m here for our date.”

I choke on the air I’m breathing. “D-Date?” I finally get out.

“Of course, a wife has got to keep her husband close,” she says.

“But you two are separated,” I say.

Haley tilts her head at me and pinches her eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”

Based on how things are going I’m scared to say this next part. “But Aaron and I are together,” I say slowly.

Haley looks concerned, then quickly laughs. “Oh I get it. You’re his work wife. Very cute,” she says. “I should get going,” she says, but I get up and follow her.

“No, no, not just that,” I say over her shoulder. She’s walking towards Aaron’s office. “Aaron and I are in a committed relationship.”

Haley ignores me and walks into Aaron’s office with me on her heels. When we walk in Aaron looks up and smiles at me, or at least I think he’s smiling at me. “Hi honey,” Aaron says and I flash him a grateful smile.

“Thank goodness,” I say and walk past Haley to him. Although, once I reach Aaron he gives me a weird look. “Honey, are you okay?”

Aaron chuckles. “Y/L/N, you should probably stick to calling me Hotch.”

“W-What are you talking about?” I ask. But he ignores me and walks up to Haley and kisses her. On the lips. “Aaron,” I snap.

He turns around to face me, clearly annoyed. “Y/L/N, my wife and I could use some time alone,” Aaron says.

“But she’s not your wife. I-I’m your girlfriend!”

Both of them look at me with wild eyes. “Y/L/N, are you feeling alright?” Aaron asks.

“Yes, I’m fine,” I shout. “I know what’s real and I know that you’re my boyfriend.”

“Honey,” Haley hisses. “He will never be yours. He’s mine,” she smiles up at him again and they kiss.

I wake with a jolt, shaking the arms off my waist that previously rested there. I scramble in bed for a moment, but finally go still once I sit against the headboard. I haven’t been very quiet, so the person next to me also sits against the headboard.

“Honey,” Aaron croaks. “Are you alright?”

Oh my God, it’s just like my dream.

“I-I need to go,” I say then throw the cover off me and slip my shoes on.

Aaron chuckles. “Go where? It’s the middle of the night.”

I don’t answer him and just leave the room. I don’t know where to go so I settle on a bench outside the hotel. I wish I brought my jacket. It’s freezing out here and I’m only in a tank top. However, I am sitting by myself for less than five minutes because Aaron comes outside bundled up and holding a blanket for me.

“Thanks,” I grumble as I take the blanket and quickly wrap it around me. He sits down next to me with a long sigh.

“So what’s going on?” he asks.

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. “I just don’t feel right about this.”

“About what?” he asks.

“This baby,” I say and turn to my boyfriend. His face goes blank as he continues to make eye contact with me. “Aaron?” I snap. He shakes his head and comes back into reality. He reaches out and takes my hands in his.

“Do you not want to have this baby?” Aaron asks and I stay silent. I don’t know what to say. I eye Aaron again carefully. His face is full of concern. I have to tell him what’s been going on.

“Okay,” I hum while placing my palms on my eyes. “I’ve been having some…guilt about the baby.”

Aaron furrows his eyebrows. “What is there to be guilty about?” he asks.

My chest starts to grow tight and tears start to fight their way out of my eyes. After a moment of resisting, I let the tears fall as I gently weep. “Haley,” I murmur.

Aaron wraps me in his arms and holds me against his chest. “What about Haley?” he asks.

“I’ve just been feeling guilty like I am taking over her life. I don’t ever want to replace Haley in Jack’s or your lives, but I don’t know what I am suppose to do. Am I suppose to not marry you and not have babies with you? Am I suppose to not love Jack? I just don’t know anymore Aaron,” I rant. “Then I had this dream where Haley wasn’t acting like herself and saying that she would always have you and you would never be mine. And you were acting like we weren’t together.”

Aaron stays quiet for a few moments, but rubs circles in my back. “You know what I think we should do?” he asks and I look up at him. “We should talk to Haley. Jack and I talk to her occasionally before bed, but it sounds like you need to talk to her too.”

I am a little unsure. What am I suppose to say? But I agree anyway. “Okay,” I say.

“We’ll do it right when we get home,” Aaron says then kisses my forehead.

**********

I got out of the shower just a few minutes ago and am currently brushing out my hair. The whole team just returned from Minnesota a few hours ago. It was nearly dinner time so we picked up some food for the three of us then ate at home. I got in the shower right after dinner because I am beyond exhausted. I am planning on a long, solid sleep.

I open the bathroom door and see Aaron in his pajamas sitting on the edge of the bed. “Are you ready?” he asks.

“For bed, yes,” I laugh then pull back the covers.

“No,” Aaron says then grabs my hand. “To talk to Haley.”

I freeze. I didn’t realize we were still doing that. Maybe it will be a good thing though. I’ll do anything to stop this guilty feeling in my chest. I give my boyfriend’s hand a squeeze then let him lead me into Jack’s room.

There is a candle and a lighter resting on the floor with Jack sitting in front of them. “Jack, Y/N is gonna join us this time to talk to mommy. Is that okay?” Aaron asks.

Jack nods quickly and scoots over. “Thank you buddy,” I whisper as I sit down cross legged in front of the candle with Aaron next to me. Without warning, Jack sits in my lap and lets me wrap my arms around his tiny torso.

Aaron carefully lights the candle then turns to me and Jack. “Hi Mommy,” Jack says and my heart nearly breaks. “At school I am doing a lot of reading and I’m playing a lot of soccer.”

“Tell her how good you are,” Aaron whispers to him.

“I’m really good. I score all the time,” Jack says which causes me to chuckle.

“Hi Haley,” Aaron says. “I miss you and love you. Work is going well, but I know you would tell me that I’m working too hard. I’m spending lots of time with Jack and going to all of his games. I wish you could be here to see him play. And something very exciting is happening. Jack, do you want to tell her?”

“Mommy, I’m getting a little brother-,” Jack exclaims.

“Well we don’t know if it’s a girl or boy yet, but yes, there is going to be a baby,” Aaron says then he pauses and turns to me. “And we brought Y/N here to get some advice from you.”

I give Aaron a small smile then turn to the flickering light. I let out a shaky breath and nervously run my fingers down Jack’s hair. “Hi Haley,” I say. I pause for so long that Aaron finally turns to me. “Is there any chance I could talk to her alone?” I ask quietly.

Aaron nods. “Sure, Jack, let’s give Y/N and Mommy a moment together,” Aaron says then takes Jack’s hand and leads him out of the room. I let out a shaky breath before continuing.

“Hi Haley. I know we never really close while you were here, but I sort of feel like we’re bonded now. You know, both having been Aaron’s girlfriend at one point,” I say with a laugh. “Anyway, I’m sort of struggling. As Aaron said, I’m pregnant, but I’m feeling guilty that I’m stealing your life. You know, it should be you with Aaron and Jack and having Aaron’s second baby, not me,” I say as tears stream down my face. “But the hardest part is that I want to be with Aaron and care for Jack, but I feel like I’m living in your shadow.”

I’m quiet for a moment. “So I guess I’m asking your permission to be with them? Ugh,” I say then bury my face in my hands. “I honestly don’t know what I’m asking. I just don’t want to feel guilty anymore. I want to know that you are okay with me taking care of your husband and your son.”

I focus on the candle. I guess I expect there to be some sign to know that she’s listening, but there’s nothing.

“And I am really trying to keep my promise I made to you, to keep Aaron safe. But as you know, he’s got a mind of his own,” I say. “I want to make a new promise now too. I want to promise that I will love Jack and Aaron with all of my heart and never let them forget how much they are loved. I also want to promise that I won’t let them forget you. I always want you to be a part of our lives.”

Suddenly, the candle blows out on its own. It takes me a second to realize what happened. I stare at the smoke curling into the air and know that must be Haley’s way of saying “okay”.

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taeescript · 3 years

Text

29+1 (Part Three - Finale)

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰: In which Seokjin is the Devil from The Devil Wears Prada, Taehyung is your work Jesus and Jimin is your handsome successful brother.

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: seokjin x reader (taehyung x reader?!?!)

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: slice of life; ceo!seokjin (fluff & definite smut)

𝔴𝔠: 10.7k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: 18+ only. descriptions of sex (are you really that surprised after the last part?): including rejected then unrejected condom use (practice safe kids), possible more unprotected drunk sex, one night stands, lots more mentions of sex, slight unrequited love, more sexts, and Seokjin being a downright meanie (redemption arc?!)

𝔞/𝔫: each part just gets longer - sorrynotsorry. but here is the finale. life gets messy, but we only ever really learn from failures, right? feedback and comments are forever welcomed. as always, enjoy (:

part one | part two

The two of you fumble in the darkness into the room. The majority of guests have since returned home, but there is still loud music and the rhythms of its bass punctuating through the ceiling into the floorboards of the upstairs.

You had initially suggested any of the guest rooms but Seokjin had said that if there was going to be sex, it would be done in Junho’s bedroom where the bed is the softest and the pillows the fluffiest.

After a brief and awkward encounter with the security guard who had rejected the two of you away from the staircase leading upstairs, Seokjin had led you up the back entrance where only the occupants of the house could navigate to.

“No, fuck this is weird. Junho is going to sleep here tonight,” Seokjin suddenly says.

Your fingers fumble to undo the buttons of his shirt, but it has been tucked in so tightly it now hangs halfway undone.

“He’s your best friend. He’s probably heard you fucking through the walls when you were university roomies. Can you undo your own buckle? It’s making your shirt get caught,” you say hastily.

The door slams shut behind you, as he pushes you roughly against it. His kisses are heated, making you claw at his bareback as he works on your request.

“Where’s the – ”

“Zipper’s on the side,” you manage to rasp out. The knot in your abdomen tightens when your dress comes loose and falls to the ground.

You do not know how the two of you make it onto the bed. The room swirls with you as he throws you onto the sheets.

From the light casted in through the windows, you find yourself dwarfed by the silhouette of his broad shoulders and muscular torso. You scoot back to make room for him on the bed, the only thought overwhelming your mind is the need to feel this man on you.

He growls, hitting his shin on the jutting edge of the bed. He swears quite loudly (and foully), but it doesn’t stop him from advancing, eyes lusting over the rise and fall of your breasts and the glisten between your legs.

“Fuck,” he says again, coming onto you with a ferocity of an animal in heat. He pins your arms above your head and begins to lower himself down.

“Wait!” you suddenly scream. It makes him balk in his advance. “You might have good genes, but I’m not risky any bratty children even if my eggs are shriveling up by the second.”

He brings his hips closer to you once again.

“Seokjin! Protection? Condom?”

His eyes scan the room wildly. “It’s fine. I don’t want any of your bratty children either,” he brushes aside your concern.

You sit up. “Fuck no. How am I sure that you’re not going to pass on something weird to me? We’re using one.”

He pulls open the drawer next to the bed but comes up empty handed.

“You don’t have one,” you say when it hits you, “Mr. I’m-Prepared-For-Anything was not prepared for this.”

You see him hunker down in the slightest, bringing a hand in front.

“I don’t get how I’m supposed to anticipate when I have sex. But for your information, I do. It’s just the one I have might be old and ineffective.”

Laughing, you push him onto the bed and reach down to where your small purse had been discarded for the night. You wonder if he has comprehended the impact on your sexual drive when telling you that he carries old condoms.

The deep moan escapes from him before he can stop it. Your hand holds his shaft as you slip the protective latex over it. Then before he can say anything more, you lower yourself onto him.

...

Drunk sex can be fun, but for the most part, it is mostly just downright messy.

You hope he does not remember when you had been moving just a little too roughly, ended up sitting on him at an awkward angle and causing him to yelp in pain. You also hope that it had been your imagination in throwing up just a little bit when he had his dick shoved up your mouth.

Right now, however, is pure bliss.

Your fist tightens your hold on his hair and the other hand pushes against the headboard of the bed. Your panting increases as you continue to gyrate against his lips and tongue, his nose burying itself and hitting the bud every so often.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, buckling when he grips your ass.

You have lost track of time. You don’t care if Junho doesn’t make it to his bedroom tonight. All you know is that twenty minutes ago you had tried to fall asleep only to find Seokjin nibbling your ear and hands slipping beneath your pubic line. Not to mention the hardening of his boner against your back.

“Oh god,” you breathe again. The thought of the aforementioned sends you into a deeper lust.

You are torn out from your thoughts when you notice that he is saying something at the moment. Looking down at him, your heart skips a beat in seeing the mess you have made on his face.

The air is sickly with the scent of alcohol mixed with your perfume and his cologne.

“I want to fuck you,” he is saying in nearly a moan, “I need to fuck you.”

He removes himself from under you. On his knees behind you, he pulls your hips towards him and your face falls onto the sweat soaked pillowcase. He is not gentle when widening your stance so he can enter from behind. A hand is firmly pushing on the crook of your back, and the silent ‘o’ of your face reflecting back upon the mirror over the bed sends a painful spasm down. His erection grows impossibly bigger.

He moves at a merciless pace, sending waves of pleasure throughout your entire body and the room fills with lewd sounds of skin slapping and sucking as you take in the length of his shaft. Reaching around so that he can only stretch your walls further and ram into you deeper, his fingers circle your clit to hit it in a way that brings tears into your eyes at the stimulation. He is content when a line of profanities mingled with his name stream out from your mouth.

“Come for me, baby girl. Come for daddy.”

Your words hitch in your throat upon hearing his command. With all your will, you push yourself away from him and turn to face him.

His chest glistens as he kneels erect in front of you. The thoughts that swirl around in your mind right now; the things that you want for him to do; the things that you want to do. The things you are willing to beg to do.

“Let’s get this straight. First things first, I am not your baby girl,” you say, bringing yourself up to your knees. His lips are swollen and he does not hide the way his eyes rake over every inch of your body as you are before him.

“Secondly,” You grab him and pull him down with you so that your back hits the bed first. “You’re going to fuck me like this.”

Your fingers are coated in your arousal when you guide him so that he slides his entire girth between your folds. You watch as his tongue flicks out and swirls around two of your digits before he gorges them to the knuckles. The sound he makes at this moment sends you hurtling towards the edge.

“And third,” you stop yourself short, biting onto his shoulder while he begins to thrust into you again. “You’re going to come first, Daddy.”

You cannot prepare yourself for the impact. He brings your legs above his shoulders, moving at a pace and depth that you did not think he was possible of until now. Your nails rip into the skin of his back, your chanting of his name like a prayer for him to keep going.

He feels you shaking beneath him, and god, you are so incredibly sexy even with your hair plastered across your forehead. He knows that you are about to tip over but he cannot disobey your order. You mewl in displeasure when he stops, his head in you just far enough to stretch the beginnings of your walls.

“Me first, right?” His eyes do not leave your face. Anther few inches deeper.

You meet him with an angry kiss, grasping for him. He slides the entirety of himself in, and the muscles of his glutes tense at the impact. Letting him ride until he has reaches his high, you bring him even closer to you as you feel his warmth spread through you. He dips down, cleaning you with his tongue, and his lips do not leave yours until you have released yourself over the curling of his fingers.

The both of you are panting heavily as you lay side by side on the king-sized mattress with its silk sheets and lavish satiny blanket. There are unceremoniously dumped rubbers on the floor. You pull the sheets over yourself to cover the stark nakedness you feel, and you inhale sharply at the realization that indeed, you just had sex with your boss.

You hiccup, and a loud burp erupts from you filled with the aftertaste of high-end liquour. You giggle, still ever so slightly inebriated from the events of the night.

“You’d better not be this drunk next weekend,” Seokjin says from beside you. He takes a corner of the sheets and covers himself as well. Even his voice electrifies you. You have to hold your breath for a moment to will yourself to not crawl back closer to him.

“Don’t worry. This is why we did this dry run,” you reassure him.

The house has been quiet for a while and somewhere in the distance, you hear the chime of a bell. It indicates that it is very well past midnight at this point. “I really hope that Junho doesn’t sleep in here tonight,” you say, still staring at the ceiling.

“I texted him,” is Seokjin’s reply.

You turn your head and look at him, face stoic. He returns with a look of his own, the dark pupils of his eyes only beginning to ease the previous hunger. Your heart does a painful leap, and you return your gaze back upon the ceiling.

“Did you have a condom on?”

There is no response. You see that his eyes are closed and there is a gentle rhythmic movement of his chest.

You turn your back to Seokjin’s sleeping form and do not wake from your slumber until early the next morning.

Well, shit.

...

It is the day before the Silver Gala. Taehyung had asked you if you wanted to grab dinner with him. You agreed, and went home first to freshen up before meeting him at the restaurant as he had to stay later at the office to finish up some work.

You hadn’t known exactly what to expect on the Monday when you returned to work. The following day after the whole escapade (ahem sexcapade), you had met with Jimin and Taehyung as previously planned. Neither commented on your choice to wear a scarf despite the humid summer weather. Brunch had been pleasant enough, but your mind had been distant throughout the entire afternoon.

You had felt guilty lying to your own brother when asked how your night out had been, and since Taehyung had not brought it up, you had chosen not to speak to him about it either. And that desperately killed you because you had discovered that you did not like keeping secrets from him. You liked being able to talk to him about anything and everything on your mind.

When you dropped Jimin off at the airport a few days after brunch, he had made a small comment about how he’s glad you’ve found someone to talk to. He had been worried that his little sister would be alone throughout her internship. You had reassured him that you are more than capable of handling yourself, but thank him for his concern nonetheless. You even reassure that you have only about a two and a half weeks left of this work contract, and that you may just decide to return home for a while. He had given you a much longer hug than anticipated, then said, “Good people are hard to come by.” You had asked him what he meant by that but all you received was a cryptic smile.

The days had continued to roll by uneventfully. No longer did you have lunch meetings with your boss. Not that you had minded, considering the pile of work that seems to be growing on your desk. And the minor fact that whenever you looked at your boss all you could see was his naked sweaty body.

You have noticed, however, that he has been just a little bit kinder to you. He is a little more courteous; you catch a small “thank you” one morning when you deliver his coffee. You even contemplate on not submitting the Starbucks receipt for reimbursement as a small gesture of gratitude to him for taking care of you (in more ways than one) that night.

All in all, things had been running fine.

Okay, okay. You may have omitted one big thing; let’s do a tiny bit of a rewind.

To begin, your thoughts on the situation are completely valid. The two of you had been consenting adults. Sure, some alcohol may have been involved, but when you break it down, the two of you had an itch that only the other could have satisfied that night. Nothing wrong with that.

So why the night after meeting Jimin and Taehyung in the morning for lunch had you taken a photo exposing more than just your toes. Of course, you hadn’t sent it (you’re not trying that desperately to ruin your own life), but it sits in your gallery a button away from flying.

It is this photo that you stare at while sitting on the toilet, minutes away from leaving the house. Your fingers hover over the trash can icon. You had to admit to yourself that you looked good. The red frilly garter set that sat at the back of your lingerie drawer had not been used since…well, it just hadn’t been used. But seeing yourself all dolled up made you feel sexy and extremely confidant.

“Just delete it,” you whisper into the air. “Why are you keeping it anyways if you’re not planning on sending it. And if you truly want to send it in the future, you could always take a new one. But also: delete it.”

Seriously though. You find yourself extremely frustrated in the fact that you couldn’t bring yourself to say goodbye to a photo of yourself. And in all honesty, you felt a little sad if it were to be permanently gone. Like a missed chance to show someone just how good you could look.

Let’s find your name beside the definition of “narcissistic”.

“Fuck it,” you say, pulling your pants up. You zip up the jeans and stick your phone in the back pocket, turned off and conundrum forgotten.

You are putting a final brush of lip gloss when your phone buzzes on your vanity table.

7:48pm “Hey Y/N. Sorry I’m running a little bit late. I just need another five minutes.”

You promptly reply.

7:48pm “No worries. I can go to the restaurant first and get us seats. Pick out a wine or something for us to share?”

Keys, wallet, extra cash. All check. You glance at your phone again and see that Taehyung has yet to reply. Knowing him, he is probably rushing right now trying to finish whatever it is. He hated being late and keeping people waiting.

Buzz.

7:50pm “I need to see you.”

You stare at the text, feet frozen on the ground. Your palms suddenly get strangely clammy and the more you stare at the text, the more the words seem to shift and blur in your eyesight. Your heart is thundering as you type a response.

7:53pm “At the office?”

His text back comes immediately.

7:53pm “No. My house. I’ll send you the address.”

Indeed, the address is shot through, and you recognize the street name as part of an expensive neighbourhood with fancy buildings and bougie restaurants. Surely, it must not be professional for you to go up directly to your boss’ place of personal living. Also, what would he need you for that could not be done at the office, the place of work?

You desperately wish you had somebody to talk this over with, but Jimin knew nothing about you and Seokjin, and neither did Taehyung. Besides, the latter was still at work. Taking a seat on the stairway by the door, you decide to consult the next best thing: Google.

“Booty call (n): someone who receives a text or call by a bastard between the times of 12am – 3am for a hookup. The bastard will usually greet the booty call with a simple ‘hey’ or ‘what’s up?’”

You nervously bite on your fingernail. Technically, it is only 8pm. He also did not greet with “hey” or “what’s up?” but then again, he never texted you before. His direct message may as well have been the equivalent of “hey” or “what’s up?”. Swallowing, you scan through the next part of the text definition.

“The bastard enjoys using the booty call for sex and nothing else. No friendship is involved.”

You set the phone down beside you. Two consenting adults. An itch that only the other could satisfy. No. Seokjin’s lame ass probably wouldn’t even know what a booty call was. It’s always about work with him.

8:00pm “I want you”

8:00pm “Right now.”

You suddenly see yourself in that garter set again with its frills and open hearts in all the wrong/right places.

...

Seokjin drums his fingers on his bar table impatiently. He had sent you the text over half an hour ago and had not received a single response. He ponders if you had even received the text message or if you were already drinking the night away, as you had often told him would be your Friday evening.

Meandering over to his personal shelf of liquor, he uncaps a bottle of whiskey and prepares an iced glass.

He hopes that you will be the answer to his problem. If somebody had asked him only a few weeks ago if he could have ever envisioned himself in this situation, he would have denied it vehemently. However, the weekend with you had had him contemplating things over and over in his head all week.

Most thoughts were often of matters strictly at hand, but sometimes he found himself staring into space after a particularly sinful image of you interrupts his client meeting. It also hadn’t helped that with the incoming heat wave summer brings, the general population elects to wear a little less than usual, and you being in that halter dress had done him zero favours.

Blinking, he realizes he has poured a little more than his usual amount of whiskey. He exhales sharply, duly noting the slight increase in his heartbeat, and clears his throat despite being the only person home. There is the low rumbling of a car engine in the background, and he is reminded of a moan that suspiciously resembles an employee he cannot wipe out of his mind.

He checks his phone once again to see if there had been any missed messages while combing his fingers through his hair. The least you could do would be to at least send some type of message of whether or not you wanted to come. He wouldn’t be offended – it is slightly inappropriate to be seeing you outside of the office (you as his plus one as an exception) – but he knew he would be more offended if you simply left him hanging.

The sip of whiskey helps ease the tension around his neck after sitting in video conferences all day. Without much of a thought, he swipes the barstool beside him and inspects it of dust.

The doorbell rings.

You are tugging at the jacket you have chosen for the occasion: the longest one you own. During your Uber over, you had tried your best not to make eye contact with the driver, but you do not know if that had made him more or less apprehensive of his passenger. You knock this time, the itch building beneath the jacket.

“Did you tour the city?” he says with a drawl when he opens the door.

You meet his eyes shyly. They are regarding you with amusement. There is the smell of robust acidity when you brush past him to enter his penthouse. The lights are dimmed in the space except for a bulb hanging over the enormous kitchen island counters. A wall of expensive bottles line one side of the wall, and you spy the culprit of the previous smell on the bar table.

He continues to watch you with a bemused smile as you stand transfixed at the large space decorated with post-modern furniture. Most of it is a near clinical white, but a splash of pink and greens accent the walls or as a central statement piece.

“Would you like anything to drink?” he asks.

Startled, you glance at his wall. You recognize none of the labels and tell him that you’ll just take whatever it is that he has. You stand in your spot and watch as he rolls back his sleeves to pour you a drink. Your fingers clutch and pull the jacket around your shoulders tighter around your body as you are reminded of the muscles beneath the set of his light tunic and velvet trousers.

He hands the drink to you, noticing how cold your fingertips are when they brush against his. This is the first time he has seen you with your hair fully down and not in the work day ponytail you often sport. He notices the flush of pink blush you have applied and the same scent of perfume he has smelled before. Your legs are bare and he can’t help but wonder where you had been planning to go before he had called you to be dressed up like so. He also notices how often you are picking at your jacket.

“Sit.” He gestures to the couch. “You can take off the jacket if you want. I don’t have a coat hanger so drape it over a chair if you want.”

It may have been his imagination, but you seem to turn an even lighter shade of pink.

“R-Right now? You want me to undress now?”

He crosses his arms across his chest. Even though the tunic is loose-fitted, it does not hide the broadness of his shoulders and the definition of his deltoids. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine. The jacket is borderline hideous so maybe keep cover whatever else you’ve got planned underneath there.” He takes a seat across from you and crosses a long leg.

You can feel your entire body heating up as he runs his eyes up and down your body. It should not be possible for someone to look as good as he did simply sitting, swirling his cup lazily with the barely there smirk.

No friendship. Just sex.

You throw back the drink, nearly gagging at the unfamiliar taste. “I haven’t ever really done this before, so I’m just going to go for it,” you say. You stand and inhale deeply. Taking a few steps forward, you walk towards him.

Seokjin watches as you come closer. He sees as you begin to fumble at the buttons of your jacket. In one swift motion, you have suddenly ended up straddled on his lap.

You press your lips against his, gripping the back of his head and interloping your fingers through the soft tendrils of his hair. He tastes like the sweet whiskey you had both shared and an undertone of mint. You press your own heated body against his chest.

“What in the – ” he says, pushing you off him. He is stopped short only when his eyes land on what you had been concealing beneath the jacket.

...

Taehyung had ran as fast as he could from the subway station. Just as he was exiting, he had spied a small flower stand and in the spur of the moment, had decided to purchase a bouquet consisting of magnolias and roses.

He hadn’t meant for the entire thing to have taken that long. He had planned the speech in his mind for days prior, and had even rehearsed it in front of his mirror that morning of. Yet when it came time, and they were standing before one another, his mouth had simply went dry.

He hopes that you haven’t been waiting long, as the five minutes he had texted you about had turned into a solid thirty. He knew there would be raised voices, and he knew that there might even be tears. But he had not anticipated his own feeling of sadness in knowing that there was truly no going back.

“Um, table for two? I think my friend may already be here,” he says to the hostess when he arrives.

Her fingers deftly flip through a few pages of her book. “Do you have a name?”

Taehyung offers yours. “But I don’t think we have a reservation. She may have walked in a while ago?” He proceeds to give a simple description of what you look like. The hostess shakes her head; Taehyung thanks her and shuffles to the side so that the couple behind him could have their turn.

8:42pm “Hey, Y/N. Sorry again. I just arrived. Text me where you’re sitting? I have something that will hopefully make it up to you.”

He leans against the wall, trying his best to catch his breath while ignoring the frantic thumping of his heart. He still does not know if what he did was for the best. He doesn’t know what this could mean for his own future. All he knows is that he needs to speak to you first.

Five minutes pass. Ten. Another fifteen.

He has sent you another text with similar words as the first, but has yet to receive any reply. Calling you has only lead to your voicemail, and knowing that you are not an avid checker of that, he was not able to leave you a message there either. Deciding that maybe you had gone to the bathroom or perhaps you had simply not arrived yet but stuck in traffic elsewhere, he sends you once last text.

9:12pm “Call me when you receive this. I have something important to tell you.”

One incoming text.

Taehyung grips the bouquet harder, missing the vibrations of his phone. His mind is preoccupied with the other speech he has prepared once he is able to see you face to face.

9:13pm “Fuck you, Kim Taehyung. For the record, you’re not the one breaking up with me. I am. I hope the two of you burn in hell together.”

...

Your entire face is burning hotter than your body had been minutes earlier. You have returned to the seat you had been in originally and Seokjin had moved to the further end of the couch across from you. You are no longer only in the bright red lingerie from before, but in a collared shirt that he had thrown to you after he had thrown you off.

Seokjin clears his throat. He keeps his gaze on either your face or somewhere behind you. He does his best not to comment at the fact that he can still see the red of your thong beneath the sheer shirt he had given you. The shirt dwarfs and swallows your smaller body in it. While he might have commented that you looked cute, he shifts himself uncomfortably in his seat after accidentally (?) glancing at your nipples which protrude beneath the thin material. He gropes awkwardly for a throw pillow but notes that it is on the end of the couch closer to you. He crosses his legs instead.

“So what exactly did you think I called you here for?”

Maybe you could just casually fake a stomachache to escape. But it’s a little too late now. Not that you could exactly run outside looking like this. You slide a little lower in the couch, the cheap material of your thong digging into slits that it should not be digging in. You had spied that the heart shaped cut outs of the top were evident through the transparency of the top, so you had elected to take it off when given the privacy to change. Now you wonder if that had been the correct choice as you are nearly certain that the constant rubbing on your boobs on the shirt would make other things evidently pop.

“You were the one who said that you wanted me. Here I quote: “I want you. Right now.” You show him your phone with the receipts.

He barks out a curt laugh, pushing your phone back to you. He ignores the missed button of your shirt that has exposed more of your skin when you had leaned forward with your phone. “I meant I want you here right now. I’ve been stuck at home in international meetings all day, and wanted to speak with you so I could have my dinner in peace after. I didn’t need you to waste any more of my time by waiting by the doorbell until whenever was convenient for you.”

“Well I’m sorry… You could have maybe switched around your words,” you mutter beneath your breath. Peaking beneath your lashes, you can tell that he has pretended not to hear you. He wets his lips with his tongue before sipping again at his drink. When he removes the cup, they glisten with moisture and look delectably soft and plush.

He can see that you are watching him. Your somewhat shy demeanor at the moment throws him off, and he has to adjust the way he sits again. “Hasn’t anyone taught you proper posture?” he chastises you. Your slouching had only drawn the large shirt up your legs. After you adjust the way you are positioned, he reaches over to a folder that had been on the wooden coffee table. He hands the package to you. “This is the reason that I wanted to talk to you.”

There are pages upon pages of the contract. The words with line after line of legal terms and jargon make you blink several times.

“Isn’t this basically what Yerin does?” you ask once you have breezed through it quickly.

He has returned to sipping at his drink. In the light (and your own soberness), you note how quickly he glows under the influence. You swallow the laugh before it can escape, thinking how much he looked like a little chibi character with his over-dramatic blush.

“Yerin’s due for a contract renewal. I also know that your contract is about to expire as well. In all honesty, you have done more work around the office than she or anyone has.”

“I mean, I’m honoured. But look at the two of us right now. I don’t want the rest of the office to think I’ve slept my way into a position. I’ll be fine after my contract expires.” You say the last sentence as consolation to yourself and him.

He shakes his head. “She gave me her resignation letter last week. She’s moving with her fiancée. I now have a vacant position and I need it filled immediately. I believe that you’d be a good fit.”

“I don’t know,” you mumble, “A lifestyle of getting Starbucks orders that run into next week? Can’t exactly say it’s all that enticing to be working for a spawn of Satan.”

This time he laughs loudly audibly. “Is that what you think of me? I’d thought you’d at least be more creative when coming up of nicknames.” He stands and walks back to his liquor cabinet. Returning, he refills both of your cups with a new dark liquid.

“I need time to think about it,” you tell him honestly. “As you have probably figured out, I didn’t exactly plan on being offered a job tonight.”

He uncrosses his legs and leans forward. The neck of his shirt falls, opening up to a dangerous black hole to his chest. “I still can’t believe you thought I had texted for a booty call.”

You lean forward and match his stance. “Your text was seriously misleading, okay? Besides, we haven’t exactly talked about what happened last week so I’m sorry for misinterpreting the weird signals you’ve been putting out.”

“I’ve been sending weird signals.”

“Yes. You haven’t spoken to me all week.”

“I told you, I’ve been in a lot of meetings with our new development plan. You’re not exactly a saint yourself by the way; coming in with new outfits everyday and sashaying deliberately in front of my room to the kitchen.”

You hadn’t known that he had picked up on your new wardrobe, let alone your dumb plan of checking in on him while you go get food. “I didn’t know if we were just going to pretend that it never happened or if, I don’t know, there was something.”

“Do you want there to be something?”

“I said I don’t know.” You throw your hands up in exasperation. “I’m nearly 30 years old. I’ve worked over a dozen unrelated jobs. I’m currently an intern slash personal assistant slash whatever job position you have just offered me. I live in a tiny apartment and spend my weekends either home alone or at a bar with a singular friends. I don’t think I’m exactly screaming sexy vixen here.”

You do not miss the raise of his eyebrow at your last sentence.

“I don’t believe your age needs to have anything to do with your accomplishments,” he says.

“Says the younger successful CEO of his own company,” you snort.

“I believe in bringing out the best colours for any employee in my company. I started DailyHive off with just an idea and nobody to explain to me what I should be doing. It is people like an experienced intern or a helpful stranger on the street who helped me figure out how to set a company off. The only thing that should be addressed with one’s age is that they’ve got extra years of wisdom. They don’t offer anything less because of a few less letters after their name; they offer so much more.

Even if an individual doesn’t stay at the company, I am content in knowing that I am able to be a part of an individual’s journey to better themselves.”

You draw your legs up beneath you. “You’re damn lucky to have found your own colour in the world. I’m a year-old tube with dry stuck paint at its opening. I don’t know what I want.” It takes you a moment to see that he is looking anywhere else but you, when you feel a breeze shift along your butt. You lower your legs again.

“So many people are fixated on finding their own colour,” he says with a sigh. His gaze lingers outside his windows overlooking the city’s twinkling lights filled with bustling cars and families winding down for the night. “I think life is really about creating your own palette. Nobody is ever created with a singular colour. We’re multidimensional beings with changing goals and motives. We can love one thing and hate it the next moment.”

You bring your legs even closer to you. Damn him for being so freaking attractive while talking about humans being a paint palette.

“Yeah okay. Again, let me think about this,” you grumble.

He turns back to look at your. His eyes are solemn but kind and understanding. He brings out his phone. “Send me your resume. Even if you decide against it, at least I’ll have you on file. I’ll forward it to Yerin before she goes so she can send it off to HR as needed.”

You nod. “I’ll AirDrop it to you right now before I can change my mind. Give me a moment.” You curse him and his words that have now begun to worm its way into your mind. Swiping distractedly at your cluttered gallery, you click the file and send it over to his phone.

“There,” you say once you have completed the task. You look up when he does not respond, noting that he is staring intensely at his phone. “Yeah I get it. Like I said, a lot of random-ass jobs. But I’ll be working on building my palette as you’ve so elegantly put it.”

“I, uh,” He clears his throat. “Could you send it again? I don’t think I got it.”

You roll your eyes. “What are you talking about? Here let me see. You probably don’t know how to access it.” You reach for his phone.

He retracts his hand quickly, immediately clicking the lock button. “No!” he says loudly, “I know how to access it. Just send it again.”

You shake your head, back to scrolling through your phone when it shuts off on you. He pushes you off his lap. “Uh, I can’t. It just died.” You look up and see that he is distracted by his phone again.

“It’s fine,” he says after a moment. “Just send Yerin an email directly, I guess.”

“Okay,” you say. The two of you glance at each other in silence. “So,” you begin, “This is a little awkward but I hadn’t really thought I would be going home. Dead phone means no Uber.”

“I have an extra guest room,” he says before you can finish. “I’ll have someone drive you home tomorrow.”

“Still got some good pillows and sheets though, right?” you say cheekily.

He rolls his eyes and gestures for you to follow him.

...

He tosses and turns in his bed after the two of you have retired into your separate rooms. A particular image cannot be removed from his eyes, and the subject of said image lies only a few walls apart from where he is. He reaches over for his phone.

You know you should have been able to fall asleep quickly, especially with the silk pajamas he has lent you and the extra soft pillows he has prepared on your behalf. Yet, there is an enticing thought that continues to run scenarios through your mind. You need a cup of water or at least some fresh air to clear such thoughts, and remember seeing a balcony by the dining area.

Padding as quiet as you can to the door, you open it as smoothly as you can to not disturb the owner of the house. You are about to walk through when you find a large wall in your way.

Seokjin stands in the doorframe. He looks down at you, a sensual shadow that makes you choke on your breath.

He holds up his phone, the last image he received lighting up your room.

...

“You’re sure this is what you want?” you ask, peeking from behind the door frame. Seokjin lounges on his bed, one leg up and both his arms spread across the back of the headboard. Your toes curl upon laying eyes at his long limbs with that deceiving baby face.

“That was your original plan when you showed up, no? Might as well go through with it.”

You take a deep breath and walk into his room, back into the garter set of the photo you had unintentionally sent him.

He sweeps over you in one movement. He is suddenly ravenous, and you are exactly what he needs to fill his appetite.

“Turn around,” he states.

You do so. He follows the length of the stockings up your thighs, the barely-there thong that opens up with little heart encasing your skin around the side, front and back. Then the frilly top that leaves nothing up to the imagination as they cling onto your skin in one thin strap.

“Come here,” is his next command.

You approach the edge of his bed, then crawl up towards where he has lounged.

“Sit.” He can barely manage the singular word. You had said you were not a vixen before, but that is all he can envision right now. He pats the spot.

Seeing where his hand rests, you lift it and place it on your body. The heat it emanates travels directly to your core. You then sit where you want, and feel a twitch beneath where you have placed your body. This time, he does not push you away when you weave your fingers into his hair and give him a deep kiss. Your tongue sweeps teasingly along the plump lips you had been eyeing earlier that evening, darting in and out without truly meeting his.

He throbs against your thigh. His hands travel from your back to your waist and finally up to your breasts. He takes one of your nipples between his fingers and gives it a light squeeze. He feels you hum at his movements. Traveling to a soft spot in your neck, he suckles it gently all while rubbing the hardening bud.

“Let me hear you say it again,” he whispers between a nip on your earlobe and leaving a wet trail to the top of your breasts. He slips lower on his back, creating a wider cradle in which you rest within his lap.

You adjust yourself, sucking his full bottom lip. “Daddy,” you sigh. This time the twitch is aggressive and you know that there is a growing wet spot where you sit. You sit up with a small groan as he cups your entire breast in a hand. He brings his lips to it and he suckles on your nipple this time. His tongue brushes against the sensitive skin. One hand trails down your abdomen and brushes against your folds. He presses a thumb that easily slides between to your bud.

“Oh, you are so wet.” The sentence comes out as a breathy erotic moan. “Daddy will take care of you tonight.”

Lifting you off him, he slides out of his pajamas before crouching above your figure. He shares another heated kiss, all the while tugging at the laces that hold your outfit together. Your nails dig and leave red markings down his forearms and back, while you bite back a growing moan and heated drop in your body.

“Tell me what you need,” he exhales.

You close your eyes as his tip presses against your pelvis. Reaching, you take his member into your hands and begin to tug at it. You bring yourself to meet him, then begin coating yourself over the entirety of his shaft. When his body spasms above yours, you circle his tip with your thumb and rub it against your clit.

His breathing increases until it becomes a staggered sob. You feel him tightening and he grunts. Taking him to you again, you draw his face towards you, opening his mouth with a swipe of your tongue. He battles against your tongue with his own all the while you increase the speed at which you continue to roll your wrist along his length.

He shakes again violently, and you know he is at the start of his climb. The growl fills the room when you grab him and deny him of is orgasm. He bites into your lip, drawing the iron taste of blood.

“That’s for last time,” you say, the feeling of pain barely registered above the sensation of pleasure.

“Let’s call it even now,” he says. He loops a finger through one of the cutout hearts of your bottoms and the buttons holding it together separate with a pop. He presses gentle kisses on the soft part of your abdomen, then the squishy part of your pelvis, drawing closer to the middle of your thighs, and all the while leading up to your drenched core.

You cannot do anything else but writhe and moan beneath his tongue.

“You should wear that more often. In different colours. Different styles like a babydoll.” The vibrations along his lips only drive you closer to the edge. He latches onto your clit and continues to drink in the sounds that come out from your mouth. “Such naughty sounds from such a pretty mouth,” he rumbles. You yelp when he pinches your nipple with a force, and that animalistic noise has him drawing back up to you.

Your own hunger is overwhelmed when you taste yourself in the harsh kiss he has given. He lines himself up and begins to thrust deeply into you; his fingers dipping into your mouth as you begin to suck. Crude incoherent growls arise from him, his pace not slowing. His fingers leave so that he can reposition himself and watch as he enters and exits you each time. There is only the sound of heavy breathing from the both of you and finally.

You bring your hips to meet his at the same time that he releases himself all over you. You follow only seconds later, the orgasm so intense that for a moment you are knocked breathless. You then feel his soft tremoring kisses on your forehead, your nose and finally a long one on your lips.

“I really need to watch what I send you,” you whisper. In the dim light of the room, you see a large grin as he presses his forehead against yours.

....

The first rule in one-night stands is that you are to never fall for the person. Boundaries are to be set up and these boundaries are not meant to be crossed. Yet throughout the next day, you find yourself hurtling towards the other side of these boundaries at a dangerous momentum.

There had been more love-making sessions that you would like to care to admit. It just hadn’t seemed right to send you home without first having some breakfast. Then you couldn’t because your phone was not finished charging. By then it had been lunch. It is the day of the Gala anyways so why don’t you just stay and he’ll have somebody swing by your place to pick up your outfit?

You had never known Seokjin to be particularly sweet, with his no nonsense attitude and extremely picky choices as your supervisor. Yet when he had placed a meticulously curated meal before you, you had to admit that he is an extremely good cook who also happened to remember your food choices from the times you had shared lunches together.

No breakfast meats as too much salt straight off the bat made your stomach complain. You hated citrus, so he opted out of that when making salmon for lunch. He had made some homemade pesto pasta instead, knowing that you had often inquired of if green was actually healthier than the usual red or white. He made sure you were fed, kept warm and content.

There had been a brief few hours of the day when he had to be in his home office to take some calls. But that had not been a problem. You had retired back into the guest room to take some much needed sleep, after not having had much the previous night. Then he had joined you in bed when the call was over.

He was also such a different lover when neither of you were intoxicated.

“The Gala is in three hours. Perhaps we should start to get dressed,” he whispers into your hair.

You straddle him, your head on his wide chest and one leg intertwined between his. You bury your face in the crook of his neck and nip at jaw. “Too early. Another hour,” you murmur, your hand already stroking his half hard cock.

The laugh rumbles like an impending thunderstorm. Seokjin had never anticipated how much he enjoyed having another presence in this large, empty void he occasionally called home. He had often felt a sense of dread leaving the office building knowing that he would be away from people and back alone for the next few hours until he could return to work. He liked the feeling of warmth having you in his arms; having somebody to enjoy his cooking; having somebody to share the mundane tasks of everyday life.

He has to make an effort to remove you from him despite the yearning as aftereffects of your teasing. Brushing your hair away from your eyes, he places a delicate kiss on the tip of your nose.

“I might not need three, but from our dry run I’ll suggest that you utilize all the time you have,” he says.

You roll over onto your stomach all the while watching as he stands up, previous sheets sliding past his lean torso and revealing him in his entirety. He nearly hops back into bed when he meets your dilated pupils filled with carnal hunger. “I’m going to take a shower,” he says with finality.

Groaning loudly to complain at him for leaving a cold pocket of air in the once warm sheets, you flip back onto your back. You grope blindly at the bedside tables until you find one of his shirts to cover yourself with. Your body shivers when your feet hits the icy floors. You pad over to where you had left your phone charging near the kitchen table and turn it on for the first time since it had died last night.

Your heart does a triple flip when you see the amount of missed calls and texts from Taehyung. Shit.

He picks up on the third ring.

“Taehyung,” you gush immediately.

He sounds tired when he answers. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m so sorry. I didn’t see this until now; my phone had died last night.”

“That’s okay,” he clips the words.

“A-Are you okay?” you return the question. “You said you had something important to talk to me about.” He is not talking to you like he normally does, and that worries you. Something had definitely happened.

“I did. But it’s resolved now. Where were you last night?”

You know that he is genuinely upset at something, whether that something be that you had left him alone for dinner, so you cannot even lie at your whereabouts. You begin to chew at your fingernails as you tell him, “Seokjin called me last night. It was an emergency; he needed me to help him with something. But he’s okay now. And guess what, Tae? He offered me a permanent job! Looks like I’m sticking around just a little bit longer.”

“Huh,” he says. He remains distracted and distant on the call. “Fei is calling me right now. We can talk later.”

“I’ll be at the Silver Gala with Seokjin. I’ll call you tomorrow?”

“Right. That’s tonight. Have fun.”

“Okay, bye, Tae. Tomorrow, I promise.”

You are met with the end tone of the call. You wince when you hit a sensitive part of your nail bed.

...

There is barely enough time for you to breathe, let alone think about the situation between you and Taehyung, and you and Seokjin.

You are wrapped up in the whirlwind event of the Silver Gala. It passes without a hitch. You act like the perfect arm candy of young playboy (?) worldwide handsome CEO of DailyHive. Despite all the warnings, you are however unprepared to face the hurricane of comments that arise from the night’s events.

Junho had planned for a few reporters to comment on Seokjin’s plain-Jane date. He did not expect the paparazzi to dig into anything deeper and start rumours about the mysterious woman by the side of Kim Seokjin. He did not expect to see blurry photos of the two of them playing golf at his birthday party a week prior.

Nobody expected you to be named his girlfriend.

You hate the attention that it brings. In particular, you hate the whispers from all the coworkers and the stares whenever you enter into the office alone. Just a few days ago, you had walked in on a particularly distasteful conversation in the lunchroom.

“Why would he take her of all people?” you hear someone whisper, oblivious to the fact that you are walking down the hall towards then.

“She tried to fuck my boyfriend.” This voice you do recognize as Fei’s.

“Really? Did you hear she’s got a job offer here? Do you think she’s trying to sleep her way up? You’d better keep an eye out on Taehyung then.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t let that slut run her way through here. Not again.”

That last sentence had been said straight to your face. You knew Fei hated you. You just couldn’t be bothered anymore.

You have not spoken to Seokjin since the articles have been released and instead partake in your meals on the roof where not a single soul dares to go in fear of the unrelenting summer sun.

Despite it all, you cannot help but feel a little sorry for him. You were a nobody, and so the dirt that the tabloids had dug up were really quite more like dustballs compared to the information about Seokjin. You know it must be hard for him to have his life scrutinized 24/7. It cannot be easy to have every single action picked apart for some sort of deeper meaning. That daily stress can make even the nicest person a bratty annoying SOB.

It still sucks that you’re a part of it though.

These are the thoughts that occupy your mind and make you unaware of the argument that has unfolded in the conference room.

Having always been looking for your faults, she did not falter when presented with the opportunity to use you as a scapegoat.

“This is extremely unfair. She’s just an intern and she should not have a say in decisions like these,” Fei says, her voice raising, “She’s going to be gone next week anyways.

Your attention snaps up towards them. A few minutes ago, Seokjin had asked for your opinion regarding DailyHive’s upcoming year development plan. You want to correct her in saying that it’s technically the week after that. Additionally, there is the fact that you would return after.

Seokjin sits a little straighter in his chair. “I don’t understand what Y/N has got to do with any of this. The issue I have is with your – ”

Fei does not let him finish. “You’re being prejudiced because the two of you are dating.”

The whole room watches this encounter with their breaths on hold. Taehyung lifts his gaze from his silent spot across from you.

At once, the two of you stand and shout, “No.” and “Oh my god, you’ve got it wrong!’ simultaneously.

Flustered, you begin to explain yourself. It is one to ignore your co-worker’s comments and the nuisance of the tabloids, but you at least wanted to clear any misunderstanding with Seokjin,

“He and I aren’t dating. We’re strictly in a boss and intern level relationship.” Seokjin follows this with, “Exactly. Besides, I’d be doing her and her family a favour if we were.”

This shuts you up.

“She’s old, first of all. She’d be lucky to have a younger, handsome man by her side. Secondly, it’s not like her family’s made of gold. If we were to date, I’d clearly be the one paying for everything. And imagine if we were to eventually become married! She could never afford so anything on her measly salary. Everything would definitely be coming out of my pocket.”

All the words tumble out even as his mind desperately pumps the brakes.

“I’m above that.”

There is silence in the room following the outburst. More eyes are on you than he, and they continue to watch you as you slowly rise from your seat.

“Above that?” you mutter, turning your back to the room after firmly closing your laptop to place in your bag. You hear the sound of the scraping of a chair from somewhere behind.

“She’s just an intern.”

You zip your bag, your fingers shaking with the effort to not big the whole damn thing up to throw it across the table. When you turn around, you see that Taehyung has risen from his seat while Seokjin has sat back down on his own.

“Excuse me,” you say, your voice wobbling, “Might I remind you that she is right here, and she thinks you’re a total jackass, Mr. Kim.” His name hisses from between your teeth like a whistle. “You may have money. You may own a big fancy house with expensive furniture and a whole array of million dollar pieces in your closet. But you are not above me.”

He does not meet your harsh glare.

“You know what? This entire company sucks. I might just be an intern, but I still believe that I should be treated with the same level of respect and courtesy given to any as basic human rights. So screw you. And while I’m at this? Screw you too, Fei. You suck the most. Good fucking riddance to everyone.”

...

You have been wandering the streets, still very much annoyed and heated from your outburst. You have ignored Taehyung’s calls and even Jimin’s who strangely knew to call you.

So now you are jobless (or very likely jobless). And even though you want to feel and live off the anger, the emotion that overwhelms you the most is your guilt. Because you know everything he had said about you is right.

What if you had just tried harder?

He is above you.

Would your life still be this miserable?

God, why had you ever thought that maybe he cared.

You only wanted a simple life. Was that too much to ask for?

Fate played you like a doll with your one act role as Cinderella that night.

You are a nobody.

You plop down at a park bench, blocks away from the office. And you had been so close to finishing that contract too.

Add that to your growing list of failures.

You might as well begin job searching again because you highly doubt that job offer still stands.

Your phone buzzes again with an incoming call.

“I didn’t think you still cared, Tae,” you say without even looking when picking up.

“Jesus, Y/N,” there is obvious relief in his voice, “I thought something had happened you. You’ve been gone for two hours already. And why wouldn’t I care about you?”

“Does it matter? Just pack my things for me. I’ll pick them up from you some time this weekend,” you say. The reality of your actions have finally settled, and the reality is truly devastating.

“Come back. Fei was out of line there. I don’t think even Mr. Kim would let something like that slide.”

You want to tell him that Fei is not the true problem, but you are too tired to make that correction. Instead, you say, “I’m old. I’m also tragically single. And you know what? I haven’t told you this but the flat I live at isn’t even truly mine. My parents are the one paying for it because the best thing I could afford was being roommates with some college kid who I’m sure sold drugs on the side. I think I needed a reality check. It was a harsh one, but if I don’t start achieving something of my own soon. I don’t know.

I’ll be worthless.”

You close your eyes.

“I’m fine. Thanks for checking up on me, Tae,” you say at last, doing your best to sound perkier, “If you’re talking with Jimin apologize on my behalf. I don’t think I will be the next Zuckerberg. He can continue having his information stolen from Facebook instead of me.”

Staring at the blank screen of you phone, you have hung up before you can listen to another attempt at consolation. A big fat droplet of water splashes and smears over your screen. It lights up.

I saw you on the Internet! Are you really dating the CEO of DailyHive?? BTW, this is Kiko!!

You huff.

Another droplet of water falls, hitting your face this time.

As if life couldn’t get any shittier, there is a sudden onset of rain. The sun quickly disappears behind the clouds.

You had wanted a movie. Life gave you a mockery of Cinderella, and now your classic drenched k-drama protagonist in the rain. Hey, Controller of Destiny, would it be too much right now to ask for the male lead to swoop in with an umbrella?

“You look like a drenched rat,” you hear a voice say. His voice sounds distant and muffled.

Looking up, you see a stranger holding an umbrella over your head. In his other hand, he holds out a phone currently connected to a call.

“Seokjin?” you ask into the open.

“You could have picked a further place to run to if you really were trying to run away,” he says over speakerphone. “Come into the car. Your health benefits don’t exactly kick in until later.”

Following Seokjin’s chauffeur to the black limousine parked only a minute’s walk at the park’s entrance to which you had been sitting at, you muse at the turn of events. Even a k-drama metaphor is apparently too good for you.

Seokjin hands you a handkerchief when you finally sit down beside him. “It probably wasn’t in any of our best interest that I said all of those things,” he mutters quietly.

You raise an eyebrow and say with a tilt of your lips, “Huh, you think? Was it also too much work to just come and offer me an umbrella yourself?” You work to dry your rain-soaked hair, but end up looking more and more like a wet dog.

He wrinkles his nose in distaste. “This is a very expensive suit, you know? It shouldn’t really get wet.”

Sighing, you turn to him. “Are you here for a particular reason or should I just get back out into the rain. I’m probably also drenching these leather seats.”

He contemplates something and then reaches into his breast pocket. He hands over a small box to you. It weighs in your palm like a paperweight.

“Is this your version of an apology?”

He snorts. “As if. I’m just saying – and purely stating a fact here – that it probably wouldn’t be that bad if somebody were to date you. You’re somewhat pleasing to the eye; you’re mostly hardworking and you can be useful to have around.”

He does not add that last night, he had dreamt he was that somebody.

“Also,” the next words take a while to form on his lips, “I’m regretful of the things I said earlier at the office.”

You cannot help but feel a smile tug upon hearing the strange words that are coming out of his mouth.

“God help us all if that’s what you think an apology is.”

“Open it.”

You sigh and unravel the string. In the center of the packing is a golf ball, with your initials monogrammed onto it.

“What’s this?” you ask.

He clears his throat. “I had Yerin run the paperwork so we can get started with your onboarding. I saw that today is your birthday.”

“I didn’t know you cared so much about your interns, Kim Seokjin,” you say. The smile refuses to leave your face as you turn the golf ball around in your hands.

“Fine. I saw Taehyung leave something on your desk this morning,” he finally admits.

“We’ll work on your apology. But okay. Consider your regret noted at this moment.”

He gestures to the chauffeur to start the car. From outside the vehicle, the rain dissipates. Once again, there is warmth in the air and a glow from the sun as it emerges from behind the clouds.

“Um, Seokjin. The office is the other way. You might need to hire a new chauffeur,” you say. Your shared office building grows smaller in the distance.

The scene begins to fade like the epilogue of a movie.

Seokjin leans back in his seat and closes his eyes. “I know. I just thought, screw the company. Let’s go play a real game of golf.”

You lean back, holding the golf ball close in your lap.

Maybe, your 29+1 might not be so bad after all.

152 notes · View notes

titan-fodder · 3 years

Text

Prima Vista Part IV

[ previous ]

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 9.6k

Warning: a big helping of abandonment/daddy issues, lots of feelings, explicit sexual content A/N: y’all are gonna be so soft and then so mad lmao.

The plan was to go to Mike's house then back to campus. You said you didn't have anything to do at your mom's, that a long phone call would suffice, which is why Mike is confused when you ask him if you can stop by before going back. It's an hour out of the way, but it's not like he has anything better to do, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious about your humble beginnings.

The house is in a decent-looking neighborhood, small, nearly identical one-story homes surrounded by cracked sidewalks. He has to be careful not to trip as you make your way to the front porch, pots of dead or dying plants along the edges of it. You shove your key into the lock, twist and open, then motion for Mike to follow.

The den is dimly lit, ceiling fan above with only one working bulb. A crime show is playing on the TV but there's no one watching. There is, however, another light pouring from a back room, and as soon as you drop your bag on the couch, a head pokes out from the doorway.

"Baby girl!" A shrill voice cries, and Mike sees you grimace. "I thought you weren't coming by!"

A woman walks into the den wearing long, cotton shorts and an old tie-dye shirt then pulls you into a hug so tight that it makes you cough.

"Mom," you take a deep breath as if to refill your lungs with all the air that was pushed from them. "This is Mike."

He holds out a hand and smiles, but all your mother does is stare with round eyes and blurt, "Oh, he's a big boy."

"My fucking god." You don't yell or whine, just pinch the bridge of your nose and mumble, "Just shake his hand please."

"Sorry, I'm sorry, just was not expecting… You didn't tell me how tall he was."

"'Cause it doesn't matter. Why would I—nevermind," you cut yourself off, face falling flat just like your voice.

Mike isn't sure if he should be flattered or offended or embarrassed, so he just ignores the comment entirely and says, "Nice to meet you."

You make your escape to the back, dragging Mike with you before shutting your bedroom door and leaning against it.

"Mom is a little weird, but you'll always know where you stand with her," you tell him. "Also, sorry about the house. She’s a teacher, so she’s usually pretty beat at the end of the day. Not enough energy to do a lotta cleaning."

"Didn't even notice," he reassures you.

Mike unpacks his bag next to you, and you gather the dirty clothes from both yours and his, balling them up and taking them with you out to the garage to throw into the washing machine. Mike should have done it at his parents', but as you were packing up that morning, his mother got all teary eyed and his dad just kept shaking your tiny hands and telling you to come back, so it just didn’t happen.

Back in the living room, your mom is sitting in an old rocking chair, and Mike thinks you'll take a seat on the adjacent couch, but instead you ask, "You need help with anything? Dishes or vacuuming or somethin'?"

She looks up at you, fly-away hairs sticking out around her temples and forehead and responds, "It'd be nice if you could do the dishes. I just haven't gotten around to it."

"Can do," you nod and walk into the kitchen, opening the dishwasher and making a displeased noise at the dirty plates and bowls inside. There's room for a few more, but once it's full and running, you just clean what's left in the sink by hand. Mike finds a towel, stands next to you, and holds his hand out for every scrubbed dish, drying it and placing it in the rack to hopefully be put up later.

"You hungry?" You ask when you're done and drying your hands. "It's almost one."

"Uh, yeah. I could eat."

Truthfully, he's starving having only had a small breakfast at his parents'. He doesn't want to say that, though, doesn't want you making a big meal for him or apologizing for anything.

"Sandwiches okay?"

Something in your tone has him on edge. Your voice is too quiet, deflecting downward as if you're forcing each word from your mouth.

"Yeah," he nods. "If you get the stuff, I can make 'em." Mostly so that you can relax but also because there's no way he's gonna let you make him a fucking sandwich.

You shrug your shoulders, grab bread, lunchmeat, cheese, and condiments, then say, "You can make ours. I'll make mom's."

He knows he's missing something, but he doesn't know what, and right now he's too afraid to ask.

He eats next to you on the couch, you and your mom watching TV as Mike tries to subtly glance around. Mounted shelves are decorated with dusty, mismatched figurines, cracks opening at the corners where the walls meet the roof. The brick fireplace is stacked high with plastic tubs and books, probably from your mother’s classroom, and the carpet has seen better days.

Mike isn't judging—not in the least—but he has a feeling he knows why being here puts you in a sour mood. The house feels lived in, cluttered and cozy and worn around the edges, but it's still empty somehow.

After the three of you are finished eating, you take the paper plates and dispose of them, then tell your mom that you'll be in your room. She gives you a soft smile that you struggle to return.

It's a little more you in the bedroom, blue walls covered in old posters and collages, a quilt similar to the one in your dorm folded at the bottom of your bed. Your pillow cases are faded and covered in an old flower design that matches your sheets, and there's a small nightstand next to the headboard that's bare on top with wrinkled papers poking out of the bottom drawer.

"It's not much, but if you wanna snoop around like I always do, feel free."

Mike doesn't really want to, especially since you already seem so uncomfortable in what should be a safe space for you. The only thing he feels okay investigating is the old bookshelf next to your closet—mostly YA novels, some poetry books, an old set of The Lord of the Rings series, a textbook over rocks and minerals and another over volcanoes. Tucked away in the bottom shelf is a tiny booklet that looks like a photo album, and Mike has to fight the urge to pull it from its place and flip through the plastic pages. Anything to get to know you better.

You lay in bed, eyes locked on the ceiling, and Mike doesn't know what to do. There's a very small TV sitting on your dresser, an old DVD player next to it, so he figures he'll save both you and himself from talking by picking out a movie.

He fingers through them, not that there's a lot, just skims the spines until he pulls out a copy of Space Jam. You only glance at the screen when the intro starts, and Mike immediately zeroes in on the way your jaw sets and your brows furrow.

"I can pick something else," he tells you quietly.

You take a deep breath and shake your head. Slowly but surely your features begin to soften.

"'S'fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. My, uh…" You swallow loud enough from Mike to hear, neck bobbing with the motion. "My dad and I used to watch it all the time."

He doesn't know what to make of it or how to respond. In the months he's known you, Mike has never heard you mention your father a single time, and he's never asked in fear of what your response might be.

He moves your quilt to sit on the very edge of the bed, a little too tense as he heavily contemplates ignoring what you'd said and still switching movies.

"You can lay down, you know," you mumble. "I'm not gonna bite you."

"You have before," he tries to act casual, but it comes out too stiffly.

You laugh through your nose— "Suit yourself—" then get more comfortable on the mattress.

Michael Jordan gets pulled into a golf hole and the Loony Toons journey to retrieve his shoes from the real world. Mike is barely paying attention, more focused on the way your breathing evens out until it becomes slow and deep.

That's good. You could use a nap.

He watches you for a while, the way your eyelashes flutter against your cheeks and your lips part. You're all curled up on yourself, hands tucked under your chin, knees to your stomach, and Mike wants to slip behind you so badly, to pull you to his chest and lay with you until his heartbeat syncs with yours.

But first.

As carefully as he can, Mike stands from the bed and glides to the bookcase. He lowers himself in front of it, quickly finding what he's looking for and pulls it from the shelf.

It's a small little album, full of polaroids and old pictures cut in half. The first page sets the tone for the rest of the booklet, a photo of a very small you outside eating a popsicle next to a man that is most definitely your dad. You've got a similar facial structure as well as his coloring. Not to mention the expression he's wearing is one Mike has seen you make many times before.

The next picture is the two of you dressed up for an event. He's in a striped Polo and slacks while you're in a little checkered dress, a rose corsage on your tiny wrist. Some kind of father-daughter dance, Mike guesses.

Sitting on his lap at a fair, a chubby little boy a few years older than you standing close with a stuffed snake around his neck. A party where you're posed with an honestly frightening costume character. You in a bright, mesh jersey standing back to back with your dad, arms crossed, looking at the camera with your chins tilted upward.

They all look like good memories. The little boy in the fair picture appears several more times, and as he loses his baby fat, Mike sees the resemblance he shares with you and your father. It's too close to be a cousin—your eyes and mouths shaped the same—so he must be your brother.

Mike doesn't know how to feel about that because again, you've never uttered a word. As far as he knew, you were an only child, so why…

He gets lost in the pages, watching you grow and pose mostly next to your dad. Smiles and laughs and silly faces with your tongues sticking out. Your mom is in some, brother in others, and then, you're in a cap and gown, grinning widely next to your dad who's beginning to gray at the temples. His own smile is barely there now, a ghost of what was seen in the previous photos. It's forced, it's sad, and it's the last picture in the book.

Mike's chest hurts. He wonders what happened, when exactly you'd lost him. Was it a quick goodbye, or had it been drawn out and painful? Had he been sick for a long time? He'd looked perfectly healthy in all the shots. Maybe a car accident that took both him and your brother…

He flips to check for one last photo on the back of the page, but it's empty. However, tucked in a tiny, paper pocket is a folded up note that Mike stares at for a few solid minutes, debating the pros and cons of reading it. He knows he's already violated your privacy by looking through the album, and fuck, he's only been in your house for a couple hours at most—how has he already managed to tumble down such a humongous rabbit hole?

Your tiny snores reach his ears, and Mike gently pulls the note out, biting his lip as he unfolds it as quietly as possible. It's soft, like it's been read too many times, and the letters scribbled in all caps are beginning to fade, but the words are still legible.

It starts with your name, and then it's all apologies—sorry I can't stay, I have to leave, you don't understand how much this hurts me and so on.

Mike's eyebrows pull together the further he reads, blood pounding against the walls of his arteries, pulse picking up because he understands now.

Your father wasn't in any sort of accident; he just left.

The letter ends with a gut-wrenching, You'll always be my little girl, and Mike nearly crumples the paper up to throw away. He resists somehow, simply folds it with shaky hands and slips it back into the pocket at the back of the album.

He's never been so mad at a stranger in his life. This must be it. This must be why you are—

"Should've known you'd go straight for the photo album."

Your voice makes Mike's body jolt, his face heating as he turns to look at you with wide eyes.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—"

You wave him off and prop yourself up on an elbow. "It's whatever."

But, it's not. It's this huge part of you that still affects you to this day. Mike is no psychologist, but he has a pretty good feeling this is the main reason you hold everyone at arm's length.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"What's there to tell?"

Sitting up fully, your gaze moves to the screen just in time to see Michael Jordan step off of the spaceship and onto the baseball field. I Believe I Can Fly is playing, and you're gritting your teeth.

"It's not anything that comes up in normal conversation anyway. I wasn't just gonna hit you with it outta nowhere. Also," you look back to Mike, eyes still sleepy, lips pulling downward in a frown. "I'm not the only one who hid stuff about my family."

Mike sighs and quietly tells you, "That's different," as he closes the album and slides it back into the row of books.

"Is it, though? Is it really?"

"I..."

Mike shuts his mouth and actually thinks on it. He wasn't trying to lie to you about his home life or his heritage. He's only half Greek on his mom's side, after all, and he's only been to the country to visit family a couple of times—once when he was a child and once right before college. The culture is a little different over there, but it all seems so natural to him, especially after being raised to speak the language.

Honestly, he didn't ever tell you because he didn't think to, but Mike can understand the shock of walking into his childhood home and getting thrown through that loop. It must have been jarring for you.

It's a positive aspect of his life, though. It's not something that's damaged him or made him cold toward others. And, he hates describing you in such a way, but it's true.

At least it makes sense now.

"I guess not," he shrugs. He's not about to fight you on it.

You stare at him for a while, waking up a bit more as you rub your eyes and stretch.

Then, you flop back down on your pillows.

"So. Any questions, Zacharias?"

He's surprised that you're asking, and though he doesn't want to twist the metaphorical knife in your gut, he still replies honestly: "Too many."

A long exhale through your nose, and then you're patting the mattress next to you and grumbling, "Fine, I'll do my best, but you gotta come up here."

"Why? You gonna need to cuddle afterward?" He can't help but tease.

"Fuckin' maybe, dude! We're about to get into my god damn trauma so—"

Mike is up on his feet and flying toward the bed. He isn't about to sabotage the one fucking moment you're opening yourself up.

"Alright, what first?" You ask, trying to look bored, but Mike can clearly see that you're nervous.

"He left."

"Yeah."

And then he gets the full story.

Your dad was pretty perfect during your younger years—a bit of a workaholic but still good. He took you to dances like the one you'd both dressed for in the photograph. You'd spend days at amusement parks where he'd carry you on his shoulders. He coached the basketball team you'd played on as a child.

"Not saying he played favorites, but I was definitely closer to him than my brother was."

The brother who developed a drug problem at fourteen, who was always either out with his little addict friends or at home where he would just scream at you and your mom.

"He went to rehab a couple times, but it didn't stick."

He left home at seventeen and hasn't gotten in touch with you or your parents since.

"I keep thinking one day we'll get a call from the police saying they found his wallet on a fucking corpse, but who knows. Maybe he got clean. Maybe he started a family somewhere else. He'd be twenty-five now."

"Were you ever close with him?"

You shrug. "We spent a lot of time together when we were really little, but even back then he was kinda a mean kid."

It very quickly circles back to your father. Mike still doesn't feel like he has all the answers, so he asks through the skin of his lip, "Why'd he leave?"

At this point, you've got your head in his lap as he sits against the wall. He smooths your hair back from your face every once in a while, something his mom used to do to him when he was very young that always soothed him.

He hopes it's having the same effect on you, thinks it might be considering you've had your eyes closed for a while now, humming now and then as you talk.

"Honestly, I don't really know. I don't think he and my mom were ever in love. Like, they just kinda settled for each other," you sigh. "They didn't have a lot in common. They had different upbringings. But, they didn't fight or anything—not in front of us. They were good at hiding the hard times from me and my brother. They just didn't… click."

Mike bites his tongue, wonders if that was hard to watch or if you'd been too naive to notice.

Then, there's his second train of thought that's really just the voice in his head screaming, we click, though! You and I work! But he keeps it to himself. This isn't about you and him.

"I think maybe dad had, like, a 'stay together for the kids' mentality 'cause as soon as I graduated, he was fuckin' gone. And, I mean gone. We went to a graduation party the next weekend that lasted a few hours—just me and mom—and when we got back his truck wasn't in the driveway and his drawers were empty. He left that note you read on my desk."

Mike breathes. Just breathes. He tries to make sense of it, how someone could just do that without a real reason. There hadn't been any explanation in the letter, only apologies.

"Have you seen him since?"

You open your eyes and reply, "Nope," popping the 'p'. "I don't know where he is, and he hasn't reached out. Mom made the drive to my grandma's—his mom—but she said she didn't know where he was either. Pretty sure she was covering for him, though. She was always kind of a bitch. You know, save for the whole paying for my college and all."

Mike snorts at this, not that there's anything funny about the situation. It's just his first reaction.

You ignore it, moving on with an, "Anyway."

"Anyway," he mimics.

"I don't know if you've noticed in the short time you've been here, but my mom is a little… off. Not super good at taking care of herself."

"Is this why?"

"Clever boy," you show a bitter smile. "I didn't really understand since they weren't, like, in love or whatever, but… I think it was the betrayal more than anything. Like, it came outta nowhere, a big ol' slap in the face."

"Plus, he left you behind," Mike adds, as if you don't already know.

Looking up at him, you raise your eyebrows and smirk. "And, now you know about my abandonment issues." The last part comes out in high-pitched, melodic syllables, a little song that would be funny if Mike didn't know it was a coping mechanism. It most definitely is, though. He can tell that you're the type to mask every issue with humor and sarcasm. It's how you've been dealing with him for the last several months.

"So, that's my story," you conclude on an exhale. "Now you know all my dirty secrets."

"For some reason I don't think that's all of them," Mike pets your hair again. "But, probably the important ones."

"Mm. I guess."

The rest of the day is really just spent killing time. You cook an easy dinner that you refuse to let Mike help with, then sit in the den with your mom just like you did at lunch. A medical show is playing. Then a reality show. Then a game show. None of you say much of anything, and it's painfully awkward for Mike now that he knows what happened, but he can power through a few days of this if it makes you feel better.

Hours pass until you can retreat, and moonlight shines through your bedroom window, not that Mike needs it. He's memorized your body at this point, knows where to touch without even seeing. He makes sure to be gentle, to suckle and blow on your pebbled nipples as you card fingers through his hair and breathe faster and faster.

Leaving love bites down your chest and stomach, he sucks on your skin, gently grazing his teeth over every bruise. Mike wants you to see them all the next day—not a staked claim, just something you can't ignore when you look in the mirror, evidence of his feelings in every mark.

When you're finally nice and relaxed, he spreads your legs and licks into you, trying not to be too rough with his beard, but a few swipes of it over your clit leave you shaking in his grasp. You whisper his name, the common one that everyone knows him by, but then, rolling off your tongue like a prayer, you call him, "Miche," and he can't help the rumble that rises in his chest.

It should be strange. That's the name only his family uses, the one he was born with. He only simplified it so that kids in school wouldn't ask questions or make fun of him, and after that, it just sort of stuck. But, here and now, falling from your lips, it's so soft. So intimate.

You whimper when he sucks on your folds, making them swell, making them sensitive. And then, he's pushing his tongue inside of you and humming happily at the taste. His nose is bumping against your clit, and Christ, you even smell good to him—that ripe, tangy aroma that has Mike going a little crazy. He has to make sure he doesn't get too carried away. You can't make very much noise even with the rattling of the air conditioner, but as he slowly slides a finger into your pussy, he hears you moan around the fist you're holding to your mouth.

He stretches you just enough to get you ready, then he holds himself over you and pushes into your wet cunt. Your eyes are open, locked with Mike's as your brow raises and your jaw drops. It's erotic, something you've never done with him before. You typically either gaze somewhere other than his face or keep your eyes squeezed shut.

Tonight, though, you've been vulnerable and apparently want to stay that way for a little while longer.

He bends to catch you in a kiss, lips and tongues moving just as slowly as his hips, and when you reach to tug at Mike's hair, he pants into your mouth.

Those words are there again, stuck in his throat but slowly crawling upward until they're just there, pouring from his tongue, "I lo—"

Until you cut him off with a sharp, "Don't."

He makes a noise of frustration, wants to protest because he's so deep inside of you, and you're holding onto him like you want him—truly want him, but you mutter once more against his lips, "Don't say it, Miche."

So, he doesn't. He bottles the confession up and keeps it locked away, hoping like hell that one day you'll let him tell you.

After you climax and coat his cock in slick and cream, he gives a few more thrusts and comes inside of you, filling you with himself and wondering why you're so willing to accept him in that way but not in any other.

He's hurting again, like he did at his parents' as you walked around like you belonged there. Except it's worse now.

If you don't want him to say it, that means you don't want to say it back.

He stays with you for a few more minutes before pulling out. You leave to clean up, and while you're gone, Mike sits on the edge of the bed, head in his hands as he tries to get it all out of his system, whispering it out loud to himself:

I love you. I love you, I love you.

You still let him hold you as you fall asleep, gripping his hand until you can't anymore, and as Mike drifts off behind you, he has one last thought—Just let me.

* There’s only three weeks left of the semester when you head back to campus, and you intend to make the most of every passing day.

You pay better attention in class. You study harder in the library to prepare for final exams. You go to a few more Pi Alpha Kappa parties, making sure not to burn yourself out. And, you let Mike fuck your brains out every few days. Sometimes it’s late at night after those parties. Sometimes you're too tired after the nights of drinking and end up just going to bed only to wake up in the morning and have slow, sleepy sex. Sometimes it’s in the middle of the afternoon when you both have breaks between classes.

Neither of you bring up anything that happened over the break—meeting families, details about your childhoods, how much you learned about one another in general.

Most importantly, neither of you address that first night at your mom’s, the way Mike had basically worshiped your body, how he’d come so close to uttering the three words you least want to hear.

Thinking about it still makes your chest tighten, your heart beat faster. Sometimes when you’re sharing his bed with him, back pressed to his chest, large arm slung over your waist, you think about why it is you’re so vehemently against it. The two of you already act like a couple most of the time. You walk with each other to class when you can. You stick to each other’s sides at parties. You fuck like rabbits and don’t care who knows about it.

And, though you’re hesitant to admit it even to yourself, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have feelings for him. Mike is your best friend at this point. He’s insanely hot. He’s goofy. He’s kind. Yeah, the frat boy persona he puts on around his friends is annoying, but you understand it a little better now. Plus, he always takes off the mask when he’s alone with you, giving both you and himself a break from it.

You know your time with him is quickly coming to an end—for about two months, at least—and whenever you think too hard about it, it makes you pout and huff. You’re not looking forward to your summer classes without him, but he promises on several occasions that you can call him while he’s at his parents’ if you ever need help with the material.

It’s impressive, the way he’s able to act like nothing happened. You know it must be troubling him, but it’s not like you can do anything to soothe him. If he was really upset with you, he would have stopped spending time with you, but he hasn’t. He just bottles it up, keeps smiling at you all crookedly, and keeps satisfying you in the bedroom (more than satisfying honestly. There’s really not a word to describe what he does).

He’s back to getting along with everyone in the Pike house, everyone being Erwin. It’s a relief just because you don’t have to put up with the tension between them, but it’s also awkward. And, a little frightening.

The brothers have Smash Brothers tournaments and movie nights, a few date parties here and there, and it never fails that at some point during the evenings, you find your neck prickling as it always does when you feel someone staring at you. You always hope it’s Mike. Fuck, you wish it was him. But, when you glance up and around, it’s Erwin. Every time. His deep blue eyes are trained on you, the corner of his mouth twitching upward on one side. It doesn’t matter if he’s alone or if he’s got Maddie or some other girl sitting in his lap. He's fucking shameless, and it makes your stomach hurt.

You keep your mouth shut for the sake of the friendship but also for the sake of Erwin’s pretty face. If he and Mike ever got into an actual fight, Erwin would probably be able to get a good few punches in, but you’re nearly positive Mike would end up destroying him in the long run. That could get him kicked out of school. That could get him thrown in jail.

Finals roll around, and you manage to pass all of them without issue, even getting grades above the class average. You feel fantastic, like your long term goals might actually be attainable. You have a long road ahead of you, but your GPA at the end of the year is more than enough to raise your confidence.

Mike asks you to come back to his house for the couple weeks between the end of the semester and the start of your summer courses, but you turn him down, too scared of what might happen while you’re there. Acting like a couple in front of his parents will only exacerbate his feelings as well as yours, and you’d like to avoid that as best you can.

Even now as you’re standing outside by the Jeep, he tries to persuade you one last time, almost pleading, “Are you sure you don’t wanna come?”

“Miche, I’m sure,” you tell him, trying to stay stern, but it’s hard when his sea glass eyes light up at the sound of his real name. It’s a habit you’ve gotten into, a bad one considering how much he likes it. How much you like it. “I already told you I wanna spend the free time I have at mom’s. I need to check up on her and… Probably clean, honestly.”

He lets out a little grunt of disappointment, then nods. “Yeah, I get it.”

“You saw what she’s like,” you remind him. “Someone needs to drop in every once in a while to make sure she isn’t, like, wasting away or something.”

“Makes sense. I’ll be bummed, though.”

“Be bummed all you want,” you smile. “I’ll probably still bother you over break. A lot.”

He sounds terribly sincere when he mumbles, “You never bother me.” It makes your stomach flip in the way you do not enjoy.

Mike sighs, taking in one of those deep breaths that makes his broad chest rise then fall, calling attention to it and making you bite your bottom lip.

“Alright, I should get going,” he concedes, bending down to kiss you too deeply for simple friends with benefits. It doesn’t stop you from humming into his mouth and smiling against him. You hold him by the back of his neck as he pulls your body close to his, his voice muffled when he tells you mischievously, “Don’t forget to send pictures.”

It makes you laugh, and you lean back to swipe your tongue over his lips so that he groans and chases after you.

“I promise I will. Perv.” The beating sun is nothing in comparison to the way your body heats at the thought. You’ve sent him nudes before, but the idea of him looking at them from hours away, fisting his cock as he admires your body through his phone… It makes seeing him off even harder.

After a couple more softer kisses, Mike swings into the Wrangler and pulls out of the lot. You stand in his parking space and watch him until he’s out of sight, then walk back to your dorm, dragging your feet the whole way.

You only stay at your mom’s house for a week, and just like you predicted, you spend most of it cleaning. She thanks you the whole time but makes excuses in between. You just reassure her that you don’t mind even though you do. She really should see a therapist and sort out the depression she’s been stuck in for a few years now, but telling someone they need professional help is easier said than done.

Sleeping in your old bed is much harder this time around. You're all too aware of the weight that isn't behind you, and most nights you lay awake for at least a couple of hours trying to imagine it.

Like you’d promised, you send him a few pictures, some of them just lewd selfies with your tits pouring out of the cups of your bra, but others are of your naked body in the bathtub, sometimes a shot of you with your hand between your legs. It feels wrong to touch yourself in your childhood home, but it’s necessary, especially when Mike sends you a few pictures of his own—one with his torso on display, defined abs absolutely mouthwatering and the V of his hips suggestively leading into mesh shorts. Another is of him in the gray joggers he wears all the time, the ones that always show off his cock.

He’s so fucking hot it atually hurts, makes your pussy throb as you crave his touch. It’s an awful feeling honestly, but even worse than that is the way you miss him. You aren’t supposed to miss him. You’re just supposed to be friends who have sex. Nothing more than that.

It's why you’re glad to go back to school. Your classes will distract you, keep you from thinking about him too much. The semester is shorter during the summer, so you have to work even harder than you do during fall and spring. You don’t really think it’ll be a problem since you’re trying to cram your brain full of anything other than Mike which is great motivation for studying.

Nothing is gonna get you off track, you tell yourself. Nothing will interfere with your studies. That’s the plan.

Then, you meet Zeke Jaeger.

* You're studying in the library. It seems like you spend most of your time here, nice and quiet and empty. The campus isn't nearly as busy in the summer as it is during the rest of the school year. No parties, no sporting events, just you alone with your books.

It's nice. Most of the time. A little boring but mostly nice.

Your eyes are getting tired, and when you check your phone, you realize why. It's almost eleven PM, meaning you've been studying for about six hours. You've had longer nights, usually spent on the phone getting quizzed on the information you're learning with a few breaks in between, but that wasn't the case tonight as Mike had to spend the day with family from out of town.

It's okay. You're supposed to be distancing yourself anyway.

Taking a deep breath, you pack up your books and slide your laptop into your bag, then stand and swing it over your shoulder.

The strap is too long. The bag swings too hard, and your heart sinks when you hear a little grunt followed by a, "Agh, hot!"

Turning with wide eyes, you immediately start apologizing, "I'm so sorry, oh my god, fuck, I'm so sorry!"

A head of light blond hair looks up from the brown stain on his white t-shirt, icy blue eyes narrowed behind wire-rimmed glasses, but when he sees the mortification on your face, his own expression softens, and he chuckles.

"It's fine. You can calm down."

You're still breathing heavily, guilt making your hands shake, but he really doesn't look angry. In fact, he's grinning now, eyebrows raised like he's amused.

The longer you stare at him, the more familiar he looks. You're pretty sure you've seen him before. Many times before, actually, and then it clicks that this guy is on the front page of the school website. You see him every fucking time you log in, looking much more stern than he does now. Baseball hat and jersey, mitt on one hand as he hides his other in it, and yeah, you know him.

"You're Zeke Jaeger."

He makes a face, scrunching his nose up and squinting. "Yeeeeah, I guess I am."

Best pitcher in the college league despite being a sophomore like you. He's beaten the records of some major league players.

You don't give a fuck about baseball, have never even been to any of the school's games, but you've been hearing about Zeke since the last season. You've learned to tune it out because, again, no shits given (and also you're much more partial to lacrosse now), but he's hard to ignore when he's staring you right in the face.

"Well, uh," you try to act casual. It's something you're pretty good at these days. "Cool."

He snorts, picking his shirt off his chest to air it out like it'll help, then says, "I don't know your name, though."

You run your tongue over your teeth, wondering why he cares, then introduce yourself.

"Oh, you're Zacharias' little girlfriend, aren't you?"

Your stomach flips at the mention of him.

"We're not dating."

Zeke cocks his head to the side. "No?"

"No. Just friends."

He hums but doesn't say anything, and your eyes are once again drawn to his chest as he fans over the stain.

"Okay, let me get you a new shirt or something," you try.

He laughs again. "I highly doubt you've got a men's shirt tucked in that bag of yours, sweetheart."

"I—" you pout for a second, mumble, "Okay, yeah, fair point."

"Another coffee, though," he muses out loud. "Wouldn't be the worst thing."

You shoot him a finger gun and smack your lips. "On it. Where do you get coffee at eleven o'clock?"

"I'll walk with you," he states more than offers.

Then, you're both leaving the library, leaving campus, and going to a little 24 hour cafe where you blow on lattes and cover the basics about each other—philosophy major, valedictorian of his high school class, playing baseball since age seven, etc. You should sleep. You should get ready for another long day of studying.

But it's hard to make good decisions when Zeke Jaeger is smirking at you from across the table like you're the most interesting thing he's ever seen.

* Zeke gets your number that night. You're not exactly sure how, but he does.

Then he doesn’t text you for three days. It doesn’t bother you that much. You figure he has other things to focus on. He’s on campus to take a couple courses and practice for the upcoming season, so he’s probably just busy. If that night had just been a one-off, it’s fine with you. It was cool to talk to him, but your heart isn’t broken.

These are all the thoughts and justifications running through your head when you’re in class on Tuesday and your phone lights up during the PowerPoint lecture. You glance down, expecting Mike or Hitch, but it’s an unknown number instead. Eyes flicking from the projection screen to your much tinier one, you slide to open the message and chew on your lip.

Hey, it’s Zeke. You have classes this afternoon?

You do not. And, you are too quick to tell him that.

He takes you to a little Mom and Pop restaurant, too far to walk so you end up riding in the black Bronco he drives, trying to convince yourself that it definitely does not make him any more attractive to you. Because you aren’t attracted to him in the first place. Right?

You sit at a table for two eating paninis and fruit. Zeke asks how classes are going, you ask about practice, and as you talk, he gets that look in his eyes again, like you amuse him or interest him or something.

It confuses you, and for a moment, you’re taken back to last fall at that first Pi Kappa Alpha party, the one you met Mike at when he tried to get you to shotgun a beer. God, he had been so obnoxious back then, always following you around and flirting and—

“You listening, sweetheart?”

Your eyes refocus on the man in front of you, his raised eyebrows and little smirk. “Looks like you’re a million miles away. Sorry if I’m boring you.”

“No, no,” you try to defend. “I just zoned out for a second. Realized I, uh, got an answer wrong on the quiz I took today.”

“That sucks,” he hums. “Anyway, I can stop talking about baseball.”

“It’s okay. Just go over the last, like, ten seconds,” you say with a laugh, hoping your cheeks will stop burning sooner rather than later.

Zeke chuckles and does just that, doesn’t seem irritated or put out. He tells you about how he has a new trainer this year to warm him up and make sure his throwing arm is in top shape. “I hope he’s as good as my last. Colt was always on it, knew exactly how hot to make the warm compresses and how cold to make the ice packs. Stuff like that. He learned my needs.”

You both laugh, and if it was anyone else, you’d have an innuendo sliding off your tongue, but for some reason, you don’t think Zeke would want to hear it, like he’d be unimpressed with your vulgar humor.

Back at the college, he drives you to your dorm, explaining that he lives in the apartments on the other side of campus and wouldn’t want to make you walk that far. Then, as you slide out of the Bronco, he stops you with a smooth, “Hey,” that makes you look over your shoulder at him. “Make sure you save my number in your phone, okay? I’ll text you soon.”

The way your stomach flips is worrisome, a feeling you’re only used to when you’re with…

“Yeah, okay.”

He grins widely and nods, then waits for you to get a good distance away from the car before driving off.

No distractions, you’d said. It’ll be good for your focus, you’d said.

What a fucking joke.

Mike has to help you with some homework that weekend. You can hear his smile through the phone, snort when he makes his little nerd jokes, then sigh when he gets to the actual subject and explains it to you without a problem. His brain is incredible, and when you think about it too hard, it makes you warm inside.

“You’re so fucking smart. Why don’t you let people know?”

“Maybe I just want you to know,” he chuckles. “You think I wanna spend my days tutoring every idiot who needs help?”

“Miche, did you just call me an idiot?”

You hear another breathy laugh followed by a sigh. “I have many, many names for you, but ‘idiot’ isn’t one of them.”

“Oh yeah?” You play. “And, what might those other names be?”

He lists a few, all of them making your face flush and your body tingle, and before you know it, you’ve got your pants off and your fingers between your legs. You can hear Mike’s heavy breathing on the other end, the wet sound of his hand stroking his lubricated cock, and when you reach your climax, you moan out your usual, “Oh fuck, oh fuck, Miche.”

He tumbles down right behind you, panting and telling you in a voice of disbelief, “Jesus, it just keeps coming.” It makes the pulses of your orgasm even stronger, remembrance of all the times he’s painted you in white, and God, you are so ready for him to get back to the school.

Then, there’s the voice in the back of your head that makes you think maybe it’s better that he’s gone for now, that he might not be too pleased that you’re spending time with another guy. But, it’s not like things with Zeke are going anywhere. You wouldn’t even call him a friend. You text on and off, have brunch or lunch or coffee depending on the time of day.

And, yeah, he calls you pet names, tells you that you look nice even when you’re just in leggings and a t-shirt, talks about his family and…

Okay, it could potentially lead to something more, but it’s only been a week, and considering his golden boy status, he could have anyone he wants, so why would he even be interested in you in any way, shape, or form?

Naturally, your thoughts circle back to Mike and the way he could have any girl on his arm, but he still chooses to spend time with you. To fuck you. To nearly confess his feelings to you. You have to wonder if you’re emitting some kind of scent or beacon, if there’s a sign hanging above your head with an arrow pointing down. Sports gods, come get a piece.

If only you’d never gone to that party. If you had just kept your head down like you had freshman year. Your life would be so much easier now.

But now you’re in Zeke’s apartment listening to him rant about some philosopher you’ve never even heard of. He’s gesturing with his hands, flipping curling, blond bangs from his face, and whenever he pauses to think, he scratches his beard. He’s very fond of the white t-shirts and jeans get-up, sometimes switches it up and wears a button down under a sweater vest. Both looks are becoming of him no matter how much you try to deny it, but when he drops down onto the couch next to you and peers into your god damn soul with those piercing, blue eyes, you have to choke back a dreamy sigh.

What is happening to you?

“So, what do you think about it?” He asks, looking hopeful that you might have some insight on this matter.

But, you simply laugh and shake your head. “Zeke,” you start. “I’m gonna be real honest with you here. I didn’t understand a fucking thing you just said.”

You assume he’ll be disappointed, maybe tire of you since you can’t be as intellectually stimulating as he’d like you to, but Zeke exhales in a lighthearted sort of way, shows one of those amused smiles, and tells you, “You’re cute.”

Anyone else and you would have snapped back, something along the lines of, don’t fucking patronize me, but with Zeke, all you can do is stare at him and let your lips part, silently asking for something you won’t speak out loud.

His gaze moves to your mouth for a split second. That soft smile turns into one of his famous smirks. Then, he’s back on his feet and asking, “You wanna go to dinner?”

You are more than relieved at the shift in atmosphere, but your heart is still beating too hard as you follow him downstairs and to his car.

* Summer is passing quickly. Too quickly. The eleven week classes are kicking your ass, or are close to kicking your ass. Lucky for you, you have your own private tutor just a call or text away. Mike helps you, and you laugh and goof around, shoot off innuendo after innuendo, but the phone sex slows to a halt eventually. You tell him that you’re tired, and you are. It isn’t a lie. But, it also isn’t the full truth.

Between classes when you could be resting, you’re eating out with Zeke. Or, watching him and the rest of the baseball team practice for the upcoming season. Or, sitting in his apartment, watching movies and chatting about all manner of things. Nothing important, of course—there’s no diving deep into your life story like you had done with Mike over Spring Break, but Zeke still learns the little things about you. Why you’re majoring in geosciences and how you became good friends with some of the Pike guys. You don’t give him the full details on that one—that you got blackout drunk and fucked Mike and just couldn’t stop. You don’t think Zeke would be interested in hearing about it anyway.

You learn a bit about his dad and stepmom, the latter of whom he isn’t very fond of. He also has a little brother who’ll be attending the college starting this fall, and he’s interested in the Greek life. Naturally, you build PKA up. Even if there are some… Problematic people in the house, there are also a lot of really good guys.

“I’ll make sure to pass it along to him,” Zeke tells you one evening as you’re both sprawled on the couch, backs against the armrests as you face each other. It’s how he seems to prefer to sit when the TV isn’t on. When you asked him why, he had told you, “Just like looking at you,” and you didn’t know how to respond. You still don’t know how to respond.

“Eren thinkin’ about joining any sports?” You ask now. “Does baseball run in the family or anything?”

Zeke snorts. “Kid couldn’t hit a baseball even if it was on one of the t-ball stands.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’, then.”

“I would say he’s more academically inclined, but,” Zeke sighs. “That would be a lie.”

You can never tell if he actually likes his brother. Most of the time he complains about him, but every once in a while he’ll bring up something cute Eren did as a little boy, and you see a fond glimmer in his light eyes.

“Anyway,” Zeke waves off the subject and transitions to a new one—one that makes your stomach drop. “Are you gonna tell Zacharias about us?”

You choke on your own spit, leaning forward to cough a couple times, then challenge him with a nervous laugh, “I wasn’t aware there was anything to tell him.”

Zeke tilts his head, mouth pulling up as he raises his eyebrows. “Come on,” he chuckles.

“Come on, what?” You frown. If you were with Mike, you both would have died at that. Come on my face, you can hear him say, and you have to fight a smile because there’s absolutely no way you could explain that to the man in front of you.

“You don’t have to play coy, sweetheart. We both know there’s something going on between us.” He says it with such confidence that even if he wasn’t right you wouldn’t be able to argue with him. The assumption should annoy you, should make you scoff and leave, but instead you sit there staring, caught up in his gaze and cocky grin.

“I—”

“It’s okay, you know. Not like you’re alone in this.”

Those questions swim through your mind again, all the insecurities that you’ve been sorting through with Mike, but now that voice is louder because that sense of trust hasn’t formed yet. You’ve only connected with Zeke over meals and movies. It sounds domestic, but despite your apparently obvious attraction to him, you still don’t feel like you really know him.

But, he draws you in, like a moth to a flame. You can’t help it. There’s just something about him that makes you want him to like you, like you want to impress him, like you want to be good for him. You’ve been trying to ignore those thoughts, but they’re much harder to fight now that you’re sitting in front of him, taking in his wavy hair and pale blue eyes, that ever present smirk on his face, the curve of his neck that disappears into his shirt.

He could just want sex. He could just want a fling. Wait for everyone to get back on campus and drop you for another girl. You tell yourself you wouldn’t care; you’re good at keeping things casual.

Wouldn’t it be fun to be his arm candy for a while, though? Let people look at you and whisper louder than they did when they’d see you and Mike together? You don’t care about status, about being in the spotlight. It’s more for the experience, dating someone who could teach you things.

Mike teaches you things, that voice pops up again. He’s been helping you with your work for almost a year now. You can’t just overlook that.

“What, are you weighing the pros and cons over there or something?”

You snort. “Maybe. We still don’t really know each other all that well, Zeke.”

“Might I remind you that we’ve been hanging out all summer? Did you honestly think it wouldn’t lead to anything more?”

“Honestly,” you mimic, “I never thought you’d be interested.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” His brow furrows like he’s genuinely confused. “You’re smart. You’re funny. You’re cute.”

God, you can’t even count how many times he’s called you ‘cute’, how many times it’s made you blush over the last several weeks, just like it does now.

Then, he pushes, “Do you not find me at—”

“Of course I do,” you cut him off. “I don’t know who doesn’t, which is exactly why I don’t know where this is coming from.”

Zeke sighs like he’s annoyed, then turns the hand on his thigh palm up and beckons you with two fingers. “Come here.”

“What?”

“Come here.”

Your blood pressure spikes, breaths coming in little puffs that have no way of getting to your brain. It’s probably why you obey, rolling to your knees and clumsily crawling over to him. You stop short, right between his bent knees, but Zeke sits up, straightens his legs, and pulls you into his lap.

More of that precious air leaves your lungs as you exhale too sharply, staring at him with huge eyes. You don’t know what’s happening, can’t believe it’s happening. It doesn’t feel real even as you rest your hands on his shoulders, even when he holds your hips and pulls you so that your full weight is on him, but fuck, you can’t say anything. You can’t make a sound. All you can do is wait for him to make his next move.

“Why do you look scared?” His voice is just above a whisper, but at this proximity you can hear him without a problem.

“I don’t have a lot of experience sitting in men’s laps,” you manage, trying to keep your usual careless tone, but you doubt it works.

“For some reason I don’t believe that.”

You rear back, actually offended. “Excuse m—”

That ire, however, melts away as quickly as it arose. Zeke slides fingers up your waist, all the way to the back of your neck to bring your face to his—your lips to his.

He feels different, not at all what you’re used to. His kiss is more demanding, hungry, and God, you still can’t breathe, can’t think straight because his tongue is moving past your lips, and you’re letting it, letting him taste you as your fingertips dig into the flesh of his shoulders. You lift yourself from him just a little only for Zeke to pull you back down with the hand still gripping your hip. He makes sure you feel him when he grinds up into you, the zipper of his jeans rubbing you through your little shorts so that you gasp into his mouth.

You both stay like that for what feels like a fucking eternity, biting and sucking on lips, stroking over each others’ tongues until you absolutely have to break apart. You’re panting now, body still tense on top of his, and Zeke stares at you with half-lidded eyes and shows the ghost of a smile.

“Oh, I’m gonna have so much fun with you.”

The statement sets you on fire, so much so that all you can do is whimper quietly and lean in for more.

And, as you get lost in Zeke Jaeger, you decide for yourself.

I need to tell Mike

[ next ]

#mike zacharias x reader #miche zacharias x reader #aot x reader #aot fanfic #aot fanfiction #mels prima vista

215 notes · View notes

duskholland · 3 years

Note

prompt idea if it vibes with you... frat!tom and y/n are close friends at a party and Tom accidentally drunkenly tells her how he feels about her. this could be followed by her making sure he gets home and sobers up and in the morning they talk abt it (smut could ensue, if the mood so strikes). wishing you good writing vibes 💞

no smut, just a lot of fluff! thank you for requesting--this concept makes me feel :’)) cw: alcohol

frat!tom !!

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

You’ve never seen Tom this drunk before, and you have to admit, it’s quite cute.

There’s a rosy flush to his face, and his eyes are even warmer than usual. He’s incredibly affectionate, clinging to your arm like it’s his only lifeline, kissing your cheek every time there’s an opportunity to. It’s not that the gushing behaviour is unusual—Tom’s always been a flirt, for as long as you’ve known him—but you’ve never seen him act this enamoured. Not around you.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” You whisper into his ear.

Tom looks up at you, movements jerky and tired. You’re sitting beside him on the sofa. You’d been playing a game of truth or dare with the rest of the group, but they’d all scattered as soon as it finished. Now it’s just you and Tom, sitting side by side.

“Definitely,” he mumbles, voice slightly slurred. He yawns loudly, stretching out his arms and giggling when he accidentally hits your shoulder with a soft fist. “S’rry, love.”

You snort, reaching out to pat his arm. You’re tipsy, but you’re nowhere near as trashed as your friend appears to be. He curls into your touch, and you watch, smirking, as he collapses down over the sofa, stretching his legs out along the cushions as he rests his head in your lap. Your fingers move up to find home in his hair, and you stroke his strands softly as he moans.

“God, that feels good,” Tom whines. His eyes flutter shut and you continue to massage his scalp, tugging lightly on his hair when you figure out he likes a bit of pressure. “Fuck… I love you.”

You chuckle, leaning down to gently kiss his forehead. “Love you too,” you reply.

Tom’s eyes shoot open, and his jaw falls slack as he blinks. “Do you?”

A confused smile finds your face as you nod. “Yeah. You’re one of my best friends, Tom.”

A line forms between his brows. “No, no, that’s not… I didn’t mean it like that.” His nose scrunches up as he pouts, and Tom reaches up to grab your hands. He grasps your fingers firmly and stares into your eyes. “I love you.”

You tilt your head to the side, suddenly feeling a little light headed.

“I love you?” You try again.

Tom chuckles, eyes flickering down to your hands intertwined with his. He clumsily kisses your knuckles before sighing.

“I’m in love with you,” he repeats, voice slanted. “‘M too much of a coward to tell you when I’m sober, but I guess it’s easier when I’m fucked.” He glances up at you, seeming nervous. “It’s um… it’s fine if you don’t feel the same or—“

All of a sudden, Tom breaks off, and he goes very still as he groans. His cheeks pale, and you startle when he sits up suddenly, looking around, startled.

“Don’t be sick,” you warn, heart beating rapidly in your chest. You reach out to the table beside you and pick up your bottle of water, flicking open the cap and passing it into his hands.

Tom downs it quickly, and you soothe your hand over his back as you try to make sense of his confession. You want to believe him—fuck, you’ve been in love with him since the moment you met him—but you also watched him down four shots in a row and do a keg stand, so you don’t know how much you trust his woozy words.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, wiping at his mouth as he passes back the bottle. Tom goes to lie down again, but you gently coax him back up.

“I’m taking you upstairs,” you decide, after a quick glance at his watch to confirm it’s gone three.

Tom pouts, but it’s quick to disappear as you stand

and carefully pull him up with you. “Wait, are you coming too?”

“Yeah. I don’t trust you to climb all those stairs without me.”

He wiggles his eyebrows, slumping against you as you slowly lead him towards the grand staircase.

“If you want to come into my bedroom, you could just come out and say it,” he slurs. “No need to tease, baby.”

You scoff. “How are you still such a flirt when you’re drunk?”

“It’s in my DNA. I’m programmed to appreciate pretty things, and you, love…” He reaches up and boops your nose. “You’re very pretty.”

You decide you quite like Tom when he’s drunk like this—affectionate and loving.

“You’re cute,” you reply. You sigh contentedly as you finally finish dragging him up the stairs. “Go brush your teeth,” you urge, gesturing in the direction of the bathroom. You’re on the top level of the frat now, reserved for the members of admin. As president of the frat, Tom’s lucky enough to have his own room.

“Come with me,” he whines. He blinks at you with those warm brown eyes, and you find yourself melting.

It takes a while to get Tom ready for bed. First it’s his teeth, then you have to pull him out of his incredibly tight skinny jeans, then convince him to drink some water. By the time you’ve got him back into his room and into bed, he’s dead on his feet, and honestly, so are you.

“Sleep with me,” Tom mumbles, holding out his bare arms. He’s burrowed into his double bed, staring up at you with a boyish smirk on his face.

“I should probably go,” you say, sighing slightly.

“Please stay, Y/N.” His lips roll into a pout. “I want your cuddles. Promise I won’t do anything weird.”

You nod, as a quick balancing of positives versus negatives decides you’d much rather stay with Tom than trudge home in the rain.

After flipping off the lights and pulling off your outfit, you rummage through one of Tom’s drawers and find a large rugby shirt. You slip into it and tend to your makeup as best you can before collapsing into bed beside him, immediately finding his buff arms encircling your waist. Tom curls into you like a koala, and as you gently card your fingers through his hair, you’re reminded of his confession.

“Did you mean it?” You whisper.

“Hmm?”

You swallow. “Do you love me?”

Tom peels away from you, and even in the dark, you know he’s looking at you.

“Yeah,” he admits. “Had a crush on you ever since we were partnered together for that study group last semester. Tried to tell you a few times, but couldn’t ever get the words out right.” Tom sighs dramatically, and pulls you closer. “Jus’ don’t wanna lose you as a friend, Y/N… Would rather never tell you so you can’t reject me.”

You release a soft breath, then lean down to kiss the top of his curls.

“Go to sleep, Tom,” you mumble. “We can talk about it in the morning.”

“Okay,” he whispers. “Night… love you.”

You hope that he’s speaking from the heart, and not from the blend of alcohols swirling through his system.

“Love you too.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

You’re woken by Tom, when he groans and swears and flings his arms around as he wakes up. When he accidentally bashes you in the side, you curse too, turning over and grumbling incoherently as you try to ignore the ache in your side and the pounding in your head.

“Y/N?” You hear him say, voice confused. “Why are you in my bed?” His words crack with fatigue, and Tom moans again. “Fuck, what did I drink last night? I can’t remember shit.”

You begrudgingly turn back over, the duvet rustling. Tom’s sitting up against the headboard now, glass of water in his hand, and you watch as he downs the pills you’d left out for him last night.

“You had way too much,” you say, keeping your voice quiet. “You wanted me to stay, so… I stayed.”

Tom hums, letting one of his hands come down to rest on the back of your head. His eyes skim your face and a gentle smile works out across his lips.

“You’re in my shirt,” he mumbles. “Looks nice on you.”

You bite back a smile, shrugging bashfully.

“Do you really not remember anything?”

Tom hesitates. He slowly puts the glass of water down before sighing, using that hand to ruffle up his hair.

“I remember bits,” he says. His eyes narrow. “Do you remember everything?”

You think for a moment before nodding. “Yeah.”

Tom nods, and you almost hear him swallow. “And… you’re still here.”

You smile softly. “Yeah.”

“So that means…”

“Yeah.”

He hums, and then reaches down to tug you upright. Despite your complaints at being pulled from the warm embrace of his duvet, you can’t find it in yourself to complain when Tom pulls you into his lap and wraps his arms around you. His eyes are slightly bloodshot, and his hair lies messily across his forehead, but you think he looks beautiful.

“I meant it,” he admits, voice soft. His fingers gently roll over your waist. “I mean, I would’ve liked to say it more, uh...eloquently, but… it’s true, Y/N. I love you.”

He seems to be holding his breath, and the sight of him so nervous makes your heart race. You reach up and wrap your hands around his neck, smiling as you bring him in for a very soft, gentle kiss. You feel him grin into it, and you realise this is exactly where you’re supposed to be.

“I love you too, Tom,” you tell him.

“Oh.” He kisses you again, growing more confident as you pull yourself nearer and nestle further into his arms. “Really?”

“Mmm.” You let your fingers play with his hair as you hum, pressing your forehead to his and closing your eyes. “You’re really funny when you’re drunk.”

“I’m a disaster,” he complains. “‘M so hungover now, too.”

You hum in agreement, then pull back and yawn.

“Can we go back to sleep now?” You ask, drawing a chuckle from Tom.

“Fuck yeah,” he mutters. He pulls you down with him, and this time, it’s you that curls into him. He wraps you up in his arms and holds you close, kissing the top of your head with care. “Love you,” he chimes, and despite how unfamiliar the words are, they sound right, filling his accent like that.

You press a soft kiss to his chest, and let your eyes droop closed.

“Love you too.”

#tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader fluff #tom holland #frat!tomfic #tomblurbs #myblurbs #tom.sfw #queue

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yuta-nakamots · 3 years

Text

only human - d.sc

Pairing - Boyfriend!Sicheng x Fem!Reader

Genre - Angst, Smut, Fluff, Established Relationship!AU

Warnings - implied character death, description of having a stroke, unprotected sex, creampie, cock warming

Summary - You dream about Sicheng all the time and love telling him about them when you wake up. But this one, you hope to never see again even if it did give you a happy ending.

Word Count - 2.1k

A/N - I really did dream this about Sicheng but without the smut lmao I was so freaked out when it was happening

Written for the Dreams Unfold Event hosted by @neosmutcollective. Check out the masterlist here.

You were driving on the freeway to a destination unknown, accompanied by your boyfriend Sicheng and his close friend Lucas. The reason why Lucas was with you was also unknown. There were hardly any other cars on the road, your headlights casting a desolate glow in front of you.

It was almost completely silent aside from the quiet lo-fi music that Lucas was playing through the sound system until suddenly from beside you, “where is my arm?” Sicheng muttered. You paid it no thought, thinking he was just drowsy from sleep. “How is the road?” His voice rose at the end, as if he didn’t know what the word ‘road’ meant.

“It’s good babe, it’s not too bumpy or anything,” you answered, playing along with whatever charade he was putting on.

“My head...hurts,” he groaned, “and we spin?” At this rate you were getting really concerned. Looking over at him, his face was contorted in pain as he was curled against the door, showing that he wasn’t just spouting nonsense.

“Lucas,” you whispered, checking into the rear-view mirror for him, “call the ambulance,” you ask of him once you see that he’s awake. He did what he was told as you pulled over to the shoulder of the road. “Give me the phone,” you commanded anxiously, which Lucas gladly obliged to, probably because he had no idea what to say anyways.

“911, what’s your emergency?” The operator began.

Your focus was on Sicheng again as you tried to describe his state. “Hi, I was driving on the I-205 and my boyfriend began saying weird things and saying his head hurts and something is spinning.”

There was a slight pause as the operator took note of the situation. “Ma’am, did he mentioned anything else.”

You knew he had said other things but couldn’t remember exactly what they were. You watched as his right hand flew to his left bicep before he whimpered pathetically, “arm gone.”

“He keeps saying that his arm is gone, but it’s clearly not.” You relayed.

“And these statements, are they in full, coherent sentences?” The operator asked.

“No, not really.”

“Ma’am I believe he is having a stroke. Please give me an address or approximate area so I can send an ambulance your way.”

“Uh, we just passed exit 288 I believe, we’re pulled over on the right hand side of the road on the I-205.”

“Alright thank you, medical support will be there soon. Please stay on the line with me until they arrive.” You nodded as if they could see you. “Where were you traveling to?”

“I-I don’t really know…”

“Uh-huh,” the operator acknowledged as if you had said a real location, “and who are you traveling with?”

“It’s me, my boyfriend, and our close friend.”

“May I ask for all your names and your phone number?”

By the time you had given the operator all the information, you could already see the flashing lights of the ambulance as it approached. “I think I see the ambulance.”

“Alright ma’am, thank you for your cooperation and I wish you the best.” With that the line went dead. How odd.

You stepped out of the car and motioned for Lucas to do the same. As the paramedics came to greet you with a stretcher, you led them to the passenger door, opening it as gently as possible so Sicheng wouldn’t fall out. He kept moaning and muttering things incoherently though he was clearly in even more pain and was more confused than before as the paramedics situated him onto the stretcher.

You and Lucas followed them as they loaded him onto the ambulance and allowed them to do their job. They were hooking him up to machines to take his vitals and you must’ve looked awfully distraught for Lucas to speak up. “He’ll be okay, you know.”

“How do you know that?” You question.

Lucas shrugged, “I don’t know for sure but it’s better than saying he won’t be okay, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you sighed apprehensively, “I guess.”

There was a commotion coming from inside the ambulance and you saw them beginning to do CPR on Sicheng and his heart rate flat-lined. Something about this didn’t seem quite right. If he is experiencing a stroke, why would they be doing compressions? As far as you knew, a stroke dealt with the brain while CPR was meant for the heart. And weren’t they supposed to be doing all this on the way to the hospital?

After what seemed like only a few seconds, the paramedics stopped assisting him and their leader came up to you, “he is dead but we will take him to the hospital for clearance.”

“W-what?!” You exclaimed as the paramedic walked away. Lucas had to hold you back from going after them and only released you once the ambulance started to pull away. “He’s dead? He can’t be, there’s no way! I swear humans can survive a few minutes without a pulse...they didn’t even try to restart it with the AED!”

As you stormed over to get into your car and follow the ambulance, Lucas held you once again, bringing you into a hug. “Y/n, it’s okay,” he whispered, grasping onto you firmly, the rumble of his voice spreading through you.

“But Sicheng isn’t okay! You can’t just let him go like that!”

“It’s okay,” Lucas repeated, though this time you felt his grasp on your arm get tighter and almost as if he was shaking you. “It’s okay,” he said once more, “y/n, wake up,” he pleaded. Though the voice wasn’t his, it was Sicheng’s.

“Wake up,” you heard once more and you felt your realities shift as your eyes sprung open staring straight into Sicheng’s from where he laid next to you, your limbs flailing at your sudden consciousness. “Hey, calm down, it’s just a dream,” he told you, one of his hands coming to rest on your cheek.

“It was- You were- Th-they said you were dead! You had a stroke and died but they didn’t even help you!” You spewed.

“Baby, it’s okay, I’m right here,” Sicheng assured you, “look, we’re in our room, in our bed, and it’s 4am in the morning.” He could tell you still didn’t believe him entirely. “We are not in a hospital, trust me. This is our apartment, the one we bought together last year.”

As your sense started to return to normal, your brain finally wrapped itself around the situation and you swung a leg over Sicheng, straddling him before leaning down and kissing him. “I though you were gone,” you confessed, tears welling up in your eyes at the thought of losing him.

“I’m right here,” he promised between kisses, “I’m not going anywhere.”

You basked in the feeling of his lips on yours, your tongues entertwining as Sicheng deepened the kiss. He wrapped an arm around your waist before sitting up, both of your torsos pressed tightly together. As you settled back into his lap, you felt something poking into your thigh. You broke the kiss to look down and saw the clear bulge in his athletic shorts, confirming your suspicions. “Dong Sicheng, I can’t believe you’re hard right now, at this very moment.” He pursed his lips, his eyes going wide as they bore into yours, waiting for your next move. “I had a nightmare that you died and you’re turned on by that?”

“No no, I’m not turned on by that-”

“Then what is it?”

“I don’t know,” his hands flew up in exasperation, “I just woke up from you tossing and turning and it was like this.”

Resting your arms around his shoulders and bringing your forehead to his, you brought your bodies impossibly closer while ever so slightly shifting around in his lap to tease him. “I don’t believe you,” you told him with a smirk.

“Well are you going to help me or not?” He nearly pleaded, his hips pushing up against yours.

You snuck a hand past the waistband of his shorts, unsurprised at his lack of underwear. “I guess I have to,” you complied, grabbing ahold of his warm and pulsing length. You began pumping a hand up and down his cock, causing his head to fall to the crook of your neck. Sicheng left messy kisses across the expanse of your neck, and exposed collar, his hands going up your shirt to gently cup your breasts until he decided his was tired of it and began puling your shirt off.

The second it was off past your chest, Sicheng’s lips were already on you, covering the untouched areas of your chest, latching onto a nipple while his hand played with the other. You cradled his head almost as if he were a baby, with both of your hands getting lost in his soft brown hair. You let him suck and fondle at your breasts for a little while longer until the ache in your core grew to be too much.

After sliding your bottoms and near-soaked underwear off, you repositioned yourself above the head of his cock, using a hand to help guide his member into you. As you lowered yourself onto his length, Sicheng busied himself with kissing along your jaw, his hands moving to hold your hips once you were fully seated in his lap. Ever so slowly, you let yourself rise and fall on his cock, making him moan and lean backwards against the headboard of the bed.

Placing your hands on his broad chest, you used it to gain leverage as you began bouncing on his dick. Sicheng looked so pretty beneath you, his cheeks flushed a light shade of pink, his lips plump and slick, his skin covered in the slightest sheen of sweat. You continued your movements until you felt your legs growing tired, opting instead to draw mindless shapes in his lap. You relished in the way his slick member slid in and out of you, feeling so good when it stretched you out.

This tempo wasn’t all to Sicheng’s liking though, but he took matters into his own hands, his arms coming up from behind you, his fingers gripping onto your shoulders as he rolled the two of you over and began rocking his hips into yours. You wrapped your legs around him, allowing him to push deeper into you as he gradually started to go at a steady pace.

He let go of your frame in exchange for planting his forearms on either side of your head so he could watch your expressions as he got high off of his cock. Your eyes closed at the feeling of overwhelming pleasure when he hit the deeper parts of you, filling you up ever so perfectly. “Yes, just like that,” you told him as your walls were clenched around him, so soft and warm whenever he thrusted into you.

Sicheng started to let out little whimpers as he continued thrusting, a sign that he was getting close. You reached a hand down to stimulate your clit, wanting to come with him while he moved to sit back on his knees, pulling your body further down the bed. In this position, he began drilling into you as he desperately chased his high. “Let me do it,” he breathed when he saw your hand between your legs. He pushed it away and quickly replaced it with his own, his thumb drawing circles onto your clit.

You heard his breath hitch and felt his hips stutter as his length twitched inside of you. Sicheng pushed himself to be fully connected with you as he released in your walls, shallowly thrusting as if to milk his own dick, “I love you,” you quietly blurted. The feeling of his hot cum spreading in your core brought you to your own orgasm, your muscles fluttering and spasming around him. Sicheng held you as you powered through your own release on his member, not wanting to lose the feeling of warmth around him just yet.

“Fuck, I love you too,” you answered as you started coming down off your high. You could feel the mix of your juices start to spill out when Sicheng set your hip back down onto the bed and moved to lie on top of you. His cock was softening inside of you but you didn’t mind it all that much since you were already on you way to sleep again though hopefully with a more pleasant dream this time.

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scarofthewind · 4 years

Note

Hi dear! How do you imagine Michael, Billy, and Brahms would react to having an s/o who has a massive breeding/impegnation kink? 💖 I love your writing it's amazing!!

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A/N: Little life update: I went on a date the other day for the first time in a while. It felt nice and they were very nice, the person I met up with. I think we are going out again on Sunday and I’m so nervous!!! Also, I finished my associates of science and should be getting the diploma in the mail soon!!!! I also start my new job in a couple of days and I am nervous for that as well. Anyway, Hope you enjoy this! Sorry, I also left out Billy but don’t worry, I’ll do his another time (I just wasn’t feeling him today)

Warnings: NSFW, R18+, Breeding Kink

━━━━━━━━┓ * ┏━━━━━━━━

Michael Myers:

Let’s just say that he was beyond surprised. Michael honestly had no clue, he thought you were innocent for the most part. He knew you enjoyed his roughness when it came to sex, but didn’t know you had kinks of your own that you’d kept secret. But oh, did he enjoy it when he did find out.

The bed was surely going to break from the amount of shaking that it was undergoing. The headboard which Michael was gripping harshly was tapping against the wall with each of his thrusts. Your eyes gazed up at his face with an infatuation that Michael couldn’t understand as one of his hands went to your neck, squeezing slightly. “You just had to run your mouth didn’t you?” He chuckled, pausing his movements and placing his hands on your hips before continuing. You’d managed to throw a dinner party at the house and might’ve accidentally teased Michael a few times too many. He, of course, grabbed you as soon as the party was over.

Your mind wandered off to the thought of admitting your secret kink but you didn’t want to embarrass yourself like that. What if he didn’t like it? What if he thought you were disgusting? A small ache formed in your chest at the idea and Michael watched your face twist in discomfort. “What’s up with you?” He asked, once again pausing and flicking your forehead gently. “Does it hurt?” A very small pang of worry drifted through him but it washed away when you shook your head, sitting up on your elbows.

“If I admitted something to you right now, you promise you won’t be weird about it?” Your eyes met Michael’s and he looked at you with raised eyebrows.

“Sure?” He said, pressing kisses to your neck and slowly laying you back down.

“I want you to...I want...” You tried hard to get the words out but struggled to find the courage. Michael groaned in your ear and tilted your face to look at him.

“For the love of God, just sa-”

“Breed me.”

“It.” The room grew quiet for a few moments as the words sunk in, your eyes peering up into his with such fear it turned him on. You let out a cry when his cock grew inside you and he was grinning from ear to ear. “You’ve done it now~” His eyes were damn near feral as he started moving his hips again. His mouth went back to the skin on your neck and he growled in your ear, “Beg for it, (Y/N).”

A small whimper left your lips as you felt all of your worries disappear. Of course he would enjoy this. “Please, Michael.”

“Please, what? You got to be more specific than that.” He moved one of your legs up over his shoulder to reach a deeper angle inside of you that had your eyes rolling back.

“I want you to come inside me, I want all your come to fill me up.” A gasp left your lips when he sped up.

“Where?” One of his large hands went to your stomach, feeling the slight movements of his cock inside you. “Here?” He watched as you nodded and he could feel your thighs tremble from the pleasure he was giving you. His lips went to your jawline, making their way to your lips. “You want my come? You want my baby?”

You could barely form words let alone answer his questions, but you nodded, the moans leaving your throat were music to his ears. “Well then, who am I to say no?” Michael grinned against your lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer. Let’s just say that this newly introduced kink was something you both definitely enjoyed.

Brahms Heelshire:

He guessed many things about you but he never in his life would’ve imagined that you had a kink like this. He’d spent all afternoon giving you loving touches and glances here and there, hinting to a fun night in the bedroom later. Usually if he was very sweet during the day, it meant that it was going to be a difficult night.

Brahms was a man of peculiar tastes when it came to sex; he had a box filled with all the toys in the world and his mind only knew how to play them out to your specific liking. Those soft grazes of his fingertips on your skin and the way he looked at you from across the room, gave you the understanding that when in the bedroom that night, it would be anything but vanilla.

But he had no idea what to do when those words came out of your mouth. The vibrator that was pressed to your clit while your pussy was stretched around his cock, was removed as he stared at you with wide eyes. “What did you say?” His tone was gentle, condescending to the foul and vulgar words he’d called you only moments before.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it!” You tried to brush it off, the handcuffs holding your arms to the headboard rattled as you tried to curl up from embarrassment. Brahms caught your waist, pulling you back down the bed towards him, his cock going back into your soaking hole.

“You like that kind of thing?” He asked, his hands grazing up your body before settling against the sides of your breasts, massaging them lightly. “Why didn’t you tell me?” His eyes never left yours and you watched as he took one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking gently.

A whimper left your lips, “I didn’t think you’d like it.”

“To hell with what I like.” He scoffed, referring to the toys that littered the bed and the floor. “Your kink is much more interesting.” He moved to your other nipple and he groaned when your walls clenched around his cock. “So,” Brahms paused, moving away from your chest and towards your face, his breath fanning on your lips. “Tell me what you want, my love.”

His words sent shivers down your spine and his eyes stayed on yours, his fingers playing with your hair. You blushed a deeper shade of pink when you thought about saying it aloud, the feeling of embarrassment washing over you once again. Brahms grew irritated by this and hummed in response, moving his hips slightly to thrust in and out of you with an agonizing, slow pace. “You want me to fill you up in here, no?” He said darkly, his hand pressing against your stomach and you made a soft noise in agreement. “You want to be bred like an animal? Carrying my child around in this filthy cunt of yours?” His hips were moving faster and his hands moved to yours, gripping your harshly.

Brahms bent down to hover over your lips and smirked, “You can be shy about it all you want, but let me ask you one thing, (Y/N).” His eyes were dark with lust compared to the softness in his voice. “How much of my come do you want stuffed in there, because we both know I can go all night.” You didn’t even have time to say anything before he proved to you just how into your kink he was.

#brahms the boy #brahms heelshire #brahms heelshire x reader #brahms x reader #brahms: the boy 2 #Michael Myers #michael myers x reader #Halloween #slasher imagines #horror imagines #horror x reader #[✉️].request #😈.smut

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meltwonu · 3 years

Text

| 🎃 𝕸𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖍 🎃 |

↪ ✦ super duper party people ✦

this chapter pairing; incubus!96z(Jun/Hoshi/Wonwoo/Woozi) x reader

genre&warnings; this is literally a 5-some djfhsd(96z gangbang hskshdksjh). incubus!seventeen, double penetration/anal, blowjobs, handjobs, cum eating, bukakke, (minor)subspace, tentacles(as if there weren’t enough cocks in this), 2woo(wonwoo/woozi) have a (minor)crying kink don’t look at me, degradation/namecalling/dumbification, dirty talk. ☠️ hooooooly jesus please dont come for me kdfks 😩😩😩

notes; *hypnagogia is that weird threshold between being awake and being asleep where some people experience hallucinations/lucid dreaming/sleep paralysis. Also i have no excuses for this one LMAOOO SKJHFKJH this is def me indulging but thats what halloween is all about right? 🥴 SINS AND DECADENCE!! So enjoy~ have a good day/night!! stay hydrated and I'll see u tomorrow!! (also I accidentally sandwiched this one in between jun and wonwoo’s indiv fics so we got 96z action 3 days in a row kjfhsdkhf)🎃👻 💕

word count; ~3500

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - x - x - x - x - x - x - x

ooh, all the girls and boys on the dance floor,

and they lose all their heads to the groove of the record;

drink a little velvet so you get into the beat,

strike a bolt of lighting and become a superfreak!

Club Hypnagogia was a small club.

A hole in the wall space tucked away on the further side of town that people tried to avoid after the sun went down. Most people knew it to be where the seedier characters tended to lurk, but the small niche knew it to be where the more supernatural characters gathered instead.

You take a sip of your drink, eyes already focused on the two males standing across the club. It wasn’t as busy tonight which came as a shock to you considering it was Halloween night, but they’d caught your eye as soon as you’d walked in and you found yourself unable to look away.

One was much taller than the other but both of them had the same sultry smirk painted on their lips and you soon found yourself already drawn to their allure as you abandon your drink and make your way across the club.

You already knew what you were in for when you stopped in front of them.

“My, my, such a pretty ‘lil thing, aren’t you?” The taller one comments.

You take in their appearances; red and black outfits that showed off their bodies and they also made no effort to hide their crimson eyes and black horns either.

“You’re Soonyoung’s plaything, correct me if I’m wrong.” The shorter one teases; lips easing into a knowing smile.

“Soonyoung’s? I thought she was Jun’s?”

Oops.

The two of them share a look, brows raised at you as you bite your lip. “Um…”

“Interesting. I take it you’re a regular around here then?” The taller one asks, stepping closer to you as you immediately feel their energy pour over you in an instant. “I---I guess you can s-say that…” You mumble.

“D’you think either of them would get mad about this, Wonwoo?”

“Dunno. Let’s find out.”

Wonwoo and Jihoon.

That’s what their names were.

They came as a set; nothing more and nothing less.

Unlike Soonyoung and Jun who always came individually, unwilling to share their time with you.

“Look at you, crying while you choke on Jihoon’s cock.” Wonwoo laughs, legs crossed as he sits in a chair across the bed. “Does Soonyoung make you cry prettily too? Or maybe Jun?” Jihoon’s hands tangle in your hair, holding you still as he thrusts into your mouth. You gag around his cock as your own fingertips rub at yourself through your panties that already stick to you like a second skin.

“She’s even touching herself while she chokes on my cock like a good fuckin’ cockslut.”

Wonwoo gets up from his seat, cropped top shifting slightly to show off his toned abs and slim waist as he joins the two of you on the king size bed. Thank god for the private rooms, you’d said.

He sizes up behind you, his hand over Jihoon’s as he holds your head still for the other male. “Bet you’re already thinking about both of our cocks inside of you at the same time, huh?” There’s a pause and a smirk from Wonwoo, “You wanna be a good plaything for us and let us use your holes like a good cock hungry slut but what are you gonna do about that mouth of yours, hmm? Nothing to keep it filled.”

Jihoon catches his drift, a smirk of his own plastered onto his features as he cuts your airways off with his cock. “Should we invite some friends? Y’know, somethin’ to keep your mouth busy?”

You feel a shiver run up your spine, head fuzzy at the lightheadedness and the thought of more hands on your already burning skin.

Jihoon pulls his cock out of your mouth as you sputter and drool. “Well?”

“Y-yes…” You croak, stray tears slipping down your cheeks as Jihoon tilts your head up to meet his stare. “What was that? Say it louder.”

“Yes, I---I want… I want m-more… I wanna choke o-on cock while the--the two of you f-fuck my c-cunt and my ass…” Tears spill down your cheek as the lust pools in you and Jihoon is quick to lean down, tongue already lapping up the salty tears. He smirks, “You’re so pretty when you cry, y’know?”

Wonwoo nods, licking his lips. “Especially when you’re begging about wanting more cocks in your pretty body.”

“Christ, the two of you are somethin’ else.” A voice chips in. You sniffle, turning your head slightly to see Soonyoung and Jun standing by the door.

You whimper their names as they step closer to the large bed, both also adorning the same knowing smirk that Wonwoo and Jihoon had when you’d seen them for the first time.

“I’ll admit, I’m not particularly good with sharing but my, are you a sight for sore eyes. Sandwiched between two incubus and still wanting more. Tsk, and I thought I was enough for you.” Soonyoung smirks, fingertips reaching out to cup your tear-stained cheeks.

Jun joins you on the bed, leaning up against the headboard. “I will say, you’re quite the risk-taker for a human. Wanting to get fucked by all four of us at once. Care to give us a reason why we even should?”

You let out a choked sob, lips chapped. “I--it’s ‘cause… I--” The words die on your tongue, slightly embarrassed.

Wonwoo takes the hint, chuckling under his breath. “Lemme guess, human males don’t do it for you, do they? They don’t know what you want. Or rather, when you tell them, it scares them off. You want to be treated like a plaything, holes stuffed full of cock ‘n cum until your brain is just a pile of mush, right? You like it when we use our abilities to make you feel good, our tentacles when they wrap around your pretty throat or when they fuck your ‘lil ass with our cocks shoved deep inside your cunt filling you to the brim with cum until it’s spilling out of you. You’re an ‘freak’ to normal standards. Tell me if I’ve hit the nail on the head, or if I should keep going.”

Your fingers still tucked between your legs press hard into your clit at his filthy words, shaky eyes unsure of who to look at first.

“Y--yes… You’re r-right...” You whisper quietly.

Soonyoung leans in, lips ghosting against yours.

“Then let’s indulge.”

You were used to Soonyoung and Jun both using their ‘abilities’ for added pleasure; almost addicted to the way they each knew exactly what you wanted and needed.

“Hey, fuck, it’s my turn!” Soonyoung grumbles, trying to bat away Wonwoo’s fingers that were knuckle deep in your pussy.

This was precisely why he never liked sharing.

You were on your hands and knees in the middle of the bed, lips wrapped around Jun’s cock and one hand wrapped around Jihoon’s as you worked them both. Wonwoo and Soonyoung were both behind you, arguing as Wonwoo thrusted his index and middle finger into your tight cunt.

“Cripes, Soonyoung, give us a break. And anyway, who says we both can’t finger her pussy at the same time.” Soonyoung’s annoyed expression turns into one of agreement; spitting on his fingers before he positions them next to Wonwoo’s. He sinks them in and you moan around Jun’s cock at how full you felt with four of their fingers fucking you open and getting you read to take their cocks.

You squeeze Jihoon a little harder when you feel a tentacle slithering across your torso, wrapping itself around your midsection to keep you upright as another two wrap themselves around your breasts. The sensations are almost too much for you to handle, but you try your best to stave off your orgasm for now.

“Hmm, we have her cunt filled up but what about her cute ‘lil ass, huh? Give her what she wants already.” Jun comments. You clench around Wonwoo and Soonyoung’s fingers, whimpering when you feel them both spit onto the puckered rim.

This time, a smaller tentacle slithers up your leg until you feel it prodding at your ass and Jun pulls you off of his cock, licking his lips at the precum and drool that drips onto the sheets under you. “Let’s hear it, princess. How much do you want it?”

Your grip momentarily loosens around Jihoon when Wonwoo and Soonyoung both curl their fingers right into your g-spot. “Pl-please... I--I want… I want you to---to fuh--fuck me… use, ah, my h-holes like I’m your--your toy…”

Jihoon laughs in amazement, “Shit, you’re fuckin’ cute. I could get used to you.”

Jun rubs the head of his cock against your lips, smearing the precum on them before you part your lips for him once more.

You start a rhythm again, letting Jun fuck your mouth and running your hand up as down Jihoon’s cock as you fuck yourself on Wonwoo and Soonyoung’s fingers. The tentacle slowly eases past the rim of muscle and you moan around Jun’s cock at the fullness you feel when it starts fucking into you as well.

“Hmm~ Look at our 'lil dumb cumslut. Filled up just like she wanted. Must be so happy, huh?” Soonyoung teases.

The urge to cum is strong and you feel your self control starting to slip quicker and quicker, unable to warn any of them when your body suddenly seizes up in between them all.

“Oh~ She’s cumming~” Wonwoo singsongs; wiggling his fingers inside of you as your walls flutter around his and Soonyoung’s fingers.

In an instant, they all pull away from you, watching as your body slumps to the sheets and your whole body trembles. Your fingertips go numb, head muddled at the intensity of your orgasm that you seem to momentarily black out.

“Fuck, she’s so pretty when she cums~”

Your eyes clamp shut with unshed tears and you can’t even tell who’s speaking anymore, but the tentacle wrapped around your waist slowly starts to lift you back into your previous position as you whine in sensitivity.

“Since it’s our first time with our new plaything, why don’t Jihoon and I have the honours?”

“Just say you wanna fuck her ass, Wonwoo, it’s fine.” Jun retorts.

Wonwoo shrugs in return, a cocky smirk on his lips. “Okay, I wanna fuck her ass and Jihoon wants to fuck her cunt. The two of you have already gotten to play with her so it’s our turn, isn't it?” He turns to Jihoon who nods, head tilted in mock thought. “Seems fair to me, ‘Woo.”

Soonyoung and Jun both narrow their eyes at the other males, lips pursed. “Fine.” They comment in unison.

“See, the two of you are capable of sharing.”

“Shut up, Wonwoo.”

You feel yourself being readjusted as Jihoon slides underneath you; hand wrapped around his cock as he positions it at your entrance.

You take a shaky breath, lowering yourself down onto him as you brace your shaky hands on his chest. “Oh, f-fuck…” It takes a moment for you to adjust to his size, clenching around him in a vice grip. “You’re s-so big…” Whimpering, the other three watch on as your, still, sensitive body sits pretty on Jihoon’s waist.

Their hands itch to get onto you; eyes fixated on the way you start to swivel your hips on Jihoon’s lap. “Shit, she’s so tight and wet around my cock…” Jihoon mumbles, hands on your waist to replace the tentacles that’d disappeared again.

“Fuck, okay, please tell me I can fuck you already too.” Wonwoo groans, hand wrapped around his own cock as he jerks himself off behind you.

“P---please, Wonwoo…”

He pushes you down until you’re chest to chest with Jihoon, exhaling harshly when he sees how stretched out your cunt was around the other male’s cock. “Fuck, baby, d’you even think you can take me?” He teases.

You let out a series of whines, shaking your hips slightly when Wonwoo rubs the head of his cock at the tight ring of muscle. “Yes, p-please, it’s--it’s, hah, not my first t-time, you don’t have--have to, ah, treat me l-like glass...” He lets out a small scoff, slowly easing his cock in.

“Okay, but you fuckin’ said it, princess. Once me and Jihoon start fuckin’ you ‘til you break, you can’t complain, okay?”

You nod your head shakily, groaning at the feeling of them both inside of you when Wonwoo finally bottoms out. “Fuckin’ do i-it then, make it s-so I only k-know your cocks, fuckin’ ruin m-me…” You slur out.

Soonyoung whistles in surprise as Jun’s eyes widen. “Shit, do you think we influenced her too much with our energy?” The latter asks, only slightly concerned. Soonyoung kneels to your side, tilting your head up until your lust filled eyes meet his.

“How’re you feeling, baby? Too much?” He asks, leaning down once to kiss you on the lips before he pulls away. “I--I feel g-good… really r-really good…” You swivel your hips, letting the two other males you wanted them to move. And they quickly take the hint as Wonwoo draws his hips back before he thrusts back into you as Jihoon cants his hips up into you at the same time, making you cry out at the way they filled you at the same time.

“Fuh--fuck, please…” You beg, unsure of what you even wanted now that you were close to satisfied. Soonyoung tilts your head back towards his cock, tapping your cheek with the head of it as he smears his precum against your skin.

“Open.”

Your lips part and you stick your tongue out, letting Soonyoung fuck your open mouth as you gag around him. You feel the tentacle come slithering back, wrapping itself around your midsection again just as Jun’s fingertips wrap around your wrist.

“Figured I should help you a little, hmm? Can’t have you falling over Jihoon now, can we?” Chuckling, he brings your hand towards his cock as you slowly wrap your hand around him. You let Soonyoung tangle a hand in your hair as you get used to the feeling of all four of them in and around you.

“She’s such a good ‘lil plaything. Can’t believe neither of you shared before.” Jihoon jokes; reaching up to pinch one of your nipples as you moan around Soonyoung.

“It’s ‘cause her fuckin’ cunt is too good to share. I was being selfish on purpose.” Soonyoung grits out. Laughing, Jun thrusts into your closed fist, “Hey, I was maybe willing to share. Neither of you bothered to ask.”

“Neither of us knew she was this fuckin’ good, genius.” Wonwoo retorts. He places his hands on your ass, blunt nails digging into your skin as he alternates his thrusts with Jihoon. “But hey, now that we do, I guess she’ll be seeing more of us, huh?”

You clench around him and Jihoon, whimpering around Soonyoung, and gripping Jun just a little tighter at the thought of seeing them again.

You could get used to that.

“Guess she likes the idea.” Jihoon mutters. “Although, it seems like Soonyoung’s still a little reluctant.”

A certain warmth pours over you, eyes fluttering shut at the sensations overwhelming your body. Your head feels fuzzy and unfocused; body feeling weightless as they continue to fuck into you. This was definitely more than your usual encounters with Soonyoung or Jun.

The head of Jihoon’s cock grazes against your g-spot and you whine around Soonyoung; thrusting your hips back as you chase the feeling. You do your best to keep your hand on Jun as well, tightening your fist around him as a high pitched whine spills from his lips.

You’re unsure of how much time has passed, only able to focus on the way they all fall into a rhythm that keeps you wanting more.

You needed to cum again.

Wonwoo and Jihoon can feel the way you tighten around them both, doubling their pace as they, too, chase their highs.

Jun’s fingertips circle your wrist, tugging you off of him as he goes to lean against the headboard again. “Hey, Soonyoung, let’s let them have their moment.” He grins, wrapping a hand around his cock as he watches. Soonyoung grunts but nods in agreement, slipping his cock from between your lips as you sputter and catch your breath.

“How’re you feeling, princess?” Soonyoung asks.

“H--huh?” You blink slowly, hazy eyes unable to focus on the male.

“My, my, I think we really did fuck her into our dumb ‘lil cockslut.” Wonwoo laughs, fucking into you faster now that Soonyoung and Jun had eased off. “Isn’t that right? Just a dumb set of holes for us to fuck and play with.”

“Y-yeah…” You whisper; head rolling as Soonyoung rests next to Jun against the headboard. Your body buzzes as you let Wonwoo and Jihoon fuck into you at a harsh pace, losing their rhythm as they feel their impending orgasms.

“I’m gonna cum, f-fuck, cum with us, princess. Let us feel how fuckin’ tight you get for both of us while we fill you up with cum.” Jihoon growls, fingertips reaching down to rub at your clit.

The action proves to be too much as you cum on his command, lips parting in a high pitched cry while you clamp down on both of them. Their hips stutter as they follow suit, cocks snug inside you as they ride out their highs with you. The tentacle wrapped around your waist disappears again in the midst of your orgasm and you feel your body go slack; arms and legs trembling as you do your best to not fall onto Jihoon.

“Hoo~ Isn’t that a sight, Jun? She’s so fucked out of her mind right now, she can barely even hold herself up.”

You let go of the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, riding out the remnants of your orgasm as Wonwoo starts to pull out of you.

A garbled moan floats past your lips at the feeling and you can’t help but thrust your hips back as you chase for him to fill you up again.

“Chist, she’s insatiable.” Wonwoo quips, eyes hyper-focused on the cum that drips down from your ass. He wraps a strong arm around your midsection after a moment, helping you up as Jihoon slides out from underneath you.

You sit with your legs folded outwards, cum pooling underneath you onto the sheets. It feels warm and sticky; pin pricks on your skin as you sit in the afterglow of your orgasm.

“Our turn~” Jun singsongs, gesturing to Soonyoung who gets up from his place, quicker than lightning.

They each kneel on either side of you, hands wrapped around their own cocks as they jerk themselves off above you. “Tongue out, princess.” Soonyoung groans.

You sit directly in between them as they cum, both of them covering your face and chest in rivulets of the warm, salty substance. It trickles down your hair, to your cheeks and mingles on the bed of your tongue as you grind down onto the sheets underneath you. Their moans draw you in and make you crave more, brows furrowed and eyes clamped shut as a wave of arousal floods your system again.

They all can tell as soon as it happens; eyes flashing a blood red as they, too, gain a new wave of energy from your actions.

Soonyoung and Jun scoot further away as their orgasms ebb off and all four of them pause to admire your body covered in cum.

You draw your tongue back in, swallowing the mix of Soonyoung and Jun’s cum and it’s the latter who leans back in; fingertips swiping at the cum that covers your eyelids. He brings the soaked digits to his lips, licking them clean as you gently open your eyes.

The first thing you see is all four of them in a half circle around you; the same dreamy smile plastered on all of their faces.

Your cheeks burn crimson as the shyness overtakes you with all of their eyes on you at once.

“Um…” You don’t even know what to say next, instead waiting on one of them to take the lead.

Jihoon’s the first one to scoot forward, gentle hands pushing you back down until your back rests against the soiled sheets. He parts your shaky legs, this time leaning over you as he grins.

“Well, we’ve got all night, princess. How about we indulge a little more?”

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wdwmarveldisney · 3 years

Text

She’s gone

Peter Parker x fem!reader

Summary: Peter and reader are dating when she finds out she has hodgkin lymphoma and makes a few videos for Peter.

Masterlist

A/N: I don’t know why I wrote this but I did. I was also emotional when doing so, so that’s probably why it turned into angst. This idea has probably been done before but eh.

Tw: Talks about Hodgkin Lymphoma (a type of cancer) and death of a character.

(Gif isn’t mine)

The camera was unfocused, the bright light that shone in the background making her a blurry silhouette. Slowly everything became clear, the girl in the driver's seat tapping her fingers on the steering wheel and staring ahead. From what was passing by the window, the people seemed to be in the middle of nowhere, passing the nothingness as they went. The last few seconds of a song faded out and another began, the girl immediately smiling to herself and reaching it over to turn it up and scream the lyrics. For You by Why Don't We was a great song but not exactly the best with her out of tune screams of the words. "HEY! SHE SAID 'I REALLY MISS THE OLD YOU'! THEN FOUND SOMEONE BETTER!" A laugh had escaped the lips of whoever filming, camera shaking as the girl finally turned to face them. "Peter, put it away! I swear to fucking god!" She reached over, the car seeming swerving every so slightly making Peter laugh at her panicked expression. "Stop being such a dick! Stop recording!"

"No, it was adorable," Finally Peter spoke before the camera flipped and moved so both of them could be seen. His eyes were practically glowing in the light, his brown hair reflecting in such a way the ends looked golden. He pouted slightly at her when she held up her middle finger to him. "Fuck you Parker," her little annoyed mutter made him smile as he faced her, intertwining their fingers and resting them on the compartment in between. "You do," the girl's jaw literally dropped as she glanced between him and the road, stuttering out responses that were really just noises strung together to make up nothing translatable. Peter's laugh echoed once more but this time his grin was captured in the shot too. It was wide and as bright as the light that filled up the car with this vintage kind of vibe. Finally, his laughter subsided, his eyes going to her and then the camera. "Anyways, I'm recording because I think it's cool to document moments like this. So future us and anybody else watching this video, me and my wonderful girlfriend here," she pulled a stupid face to the camera, tongue sticking out and nose scrunching up, before looking back to the road, "Are on a road trip. We just visited her extended family and are on our way back to her apartment where her mum is waiting and the roads are basically empty,"

"And Peter almost killed my grandma!" This time his jaw dropped, a blush making its way to his cheeks as he shook his head repeatedly. "I didn't, I swear. All that happened was that I gave her a hug and with my super strength, it hurt her like a tad," she shook her head this time, looking to the camera as she spoke, "She has bruises," Peter had a guilty and sorry expression on his face that made her laugh as she continued, "And yet, he still got more birthday cake then me. On my birthday!" They both laughed this time, the camera zooming in on her perfect grin before the video ended.

This time, the camera was on Peter who sat leaning against the headboard of a bed on his phone, no doubt scrolling through some form of social media. The camera was moved so it became propped up against something and once again the same girl was in the shot, sitting next to Peter whilst glancing between his screen and his concentrated look. She moved to rest her head in his lap, the boy moving the phone to see her cheeky smile. He grinned back, turning his phone off and immediately playing with a strand of her hair. "Hi," she mumbled and it seemed to make his grin go wider as he leaned down and pecked her lips, "Hey," the girl sat up and reached over to the camera to stop the video, Peter's arm going round her waist as she did so.

It was the same place as before where the camera was propped up except this time it looked like a sunset or sunrise, Peter sleeping whilst his girlfriend filmed herself. "Hey Pete. Okay so, I want to just quickly point out how fucking adorable you are for starters," her hushed tone was a clear sign that she didn't want to wake him up but the over the top pointing could of easily hit him in the face. "But what I really wanted to do is say I love you. I've got a secret from you but by the time you see this, you'll know and so this is just me, telling you again, I guess. I know I'll tell you soon because I can't lie to you," tears had welled up in her eyes, a small sniffle being heard as she faced the sleeping Peter, "Oh god. I don't want to leave. You deserve so much better than this. Ok," she took one deep breath, calming herself as she looked to the camera again, new tears already flooding down her face like an overfilled river. "Um, I recently found out that I, er, I have," there was a pause, the next bit being too hard to say, "I have hodgkin lymphoma. It's a, um, a type of cancer," she took a shaky breath, her focus on her fingers that had reached across to a sleeping Peter's hand and began to fiddle with his, "And I'm having treatment but, it's bad," Peter began to stir and she had been quick to wipe at her face and shut off the camera, cutting off the her actually telling him.

Peter was shown having a slushy, holding hands of the person holding the camera. He smiled brightly, face scrunching up, no doubt thinking it was another picture and not a video. "Ok, we are going into that store over there and you are picking out clothes for me and some for you and I'll pay for all of it," the girl from behind the camera spoke and Peter's face immediately dropped as he finished his slushy and chucked into a bin not too far away, "You will not pay," the camera flipped round to face her, her chapped lips twisted into a teasing smile, "And they say chivalry is dead," she was suddenly standing up, half of Peter's face visible in the shot before he placed a peck to her cheek and hugging her, the girl simply continuing to film over his shoulder. "I love you," his calm whisper into her hair was muffled but she could still hear it, responding in a small voice, "I love you too,"

When they got into the shop, he disappeared with a small "Bye," and his girlfriend moved to the side, sitting down in the shoe area and holding the camera up. "So a public place isn't the best area to do this but I wanted to have happy moment before each of these because that's what we are. And this is the first video of a few. I love you and I know you better than anyone else. Maybe not May, but still. The point is, I know when I'm gone you're going somehow flip the blame onto you. You've already started doing it since I told you and I hate it. This isn't your fault and it isn't mine. These things can happen and I'm so sorry, I'm so fucking sorry that it's happening to you. Because I know and have excepted that I'm going to the unknown but you, you have to live with this and you are so strong. You been through so much and you're still the best fucking person I know and I can't believe that had the privilege to know you let alone love you. You are everything that is good in the world rolled into this little package of adorableness and no matter how many punches you take, you always get up and laugh with people and make jokes and be the best human being to ever exist. So this first video is me telling you, don't blame yourself and move on. Because you deserve more than anybody can give you and I want you to be happy for the rest of your life," she was full on sobbing, looking extremely weird to passers by. "I need to go so then you don't know I did this because I cried my fucking eyes out," and once again the video stopped.

A loud bang followed by a frustrated scream was the first thing that filled the speakers. Peter had the camera on him, staring off at something out of shot with this dopey grin on his face. "You okay there?" He asked cautiously, hand running through his curls. Suddenly his grin was wider, rushed footsteps in the background, and he stumbled as if just pushed or hit by something. The camera lowered to show his girlfriend hugging him. "School fucking sucks," She looked at the phone, pouting slightly as she snatched it out of his hands. "That's mine," he laughed, hugging her from behind as she aimed the camera towards them, "Yeah I stole it. I was texting Ned on there 'cause mine's out of battery," the girl gave a small nod, moving her head to snuggled closer to his neck as he pecked her cheek.

Another bang was heard from elsewhere and Peter sighed, glancing behind him. "That's May. I've gotta go help her," one quick kiss to her forehead and he was gone and her smile slowly faded. "This isn't exactly how I planned to do this one but I'm gonna go with it. Hi again, this is the second one and I want to start again with I love you. I want you to do something for me. I know I live with my mum and I've rarely met the Avengers but I also know you deflect pain. Most of the time it's to helping people but when it's all too much, you get angry and you yell at people at random points 'cause you're bottling it up and I know that it's just going to be those heroes who get it. So I want you to, every time you want to scream and shout and blame someone for some small meaningless thing, I want you to tell them how you're feeling. I want you to talk about everything because as much as I love you, your dumb as fuck to not see how many people care for you and are willing to hear you out. I don't care if you don't want to burden anyone, okay? 'Cause you're not. They are there for you so be a man and talk about your feelings. I'm sure they'd prefer helping you than being at by you, okay? You're probably going to get back soon so I should go but, um, there's only one more to go and I love you," The camera shut off, her wobbly smile and tear stained cheeks being the last things to be seen.

The camera zoomed in on the intertwined fingers before going to the ridiculous amount of snacks and finally to the movie playing on the screen. Then it faced the side where Peter was shoving a hand full of popcorn into his mouth and trying not to choke when he saw the camera on him. He had a buzz-cut now, no doubt recently shaving his hair off. "It's movie night! Put it away!" The camera flipped to show his lovely girlfriend who now had no hair. And yet, she was still smiling and laughing despite things not exactly being okay. She then turned to get them both in the shot, a massive grin on her lips. "Look what this amazing human being did for me! How am I so lucky?" Peter snatched the phone, turning the video off.

There was a lot of shouting in the background, laughter mixed in. the camera faced the cream ceiling, pieces of hair visible every now and then."You can't Peter! It's bad luck! Get out!" His laughter became muffled after the slam of a door and the camera finally showed the girl, no different to the time before except maybe slightly paler and she had a little bit of makeup on. She smiled brightly to the camera and moving over to some sort of desk to prop her phone up. "Ok, so no happy moment before this one because if you can't tell by the dress I'm wearing or the me just kicking you out my room, it's the non official wedding," Her hands went to the waistband of her white dress that ended at her knees and looked like something you'd wear to a prom. "You're a terrible husband if you don't remember that and I want a divorce," She let a breathy laugh leave her lips, placing her hands on her head. "In case you actually don't remember or there's someone else watching this, MJ did the ceremony, Ned walked me down the aisle and was best man and Harry was the maid of honour but he refused to wear the pink dress I got him because it didn't work with his eyes so he's got that blue dress that he's wearing. Right, this is the third and last one. I can't believe you set this up. I told you that I was so upset that I wouldn't spend the rest of my life with you and wouldn't get to have a wedding with you and you set this up because legally we can't get married so we're getting fake married. My mum and May are literally the only guests and they are getting flowers so I'm alone right now in my room until they get back and fuss over me,"

She sat down in the swivel chair, smile still present on her face. "Alright, this one is pretty much what I've been saying the last two videos except I'm actually saying it this time. I want you to look after yourself, okay? I don't want you doing anything stupid when I'm gone like getting yourself hurt overworking as Spiderman. Take a break, there are other heroes out there who are more than willing to help you if you can't do it. Move on, please. I know that it's going to be hard but I'm always going to be a part of your life, whether I'm there or not and you just have to accept that. Also, I know this probably won't help with the move on but can you check in with my mum every now and then. She's trying to act all strong but she's just like you and she's losing a daughter so just, keep her happy, for me? Please. Just be good to yourself and move on. Ok this is the last one and I'm about to talk to my mum about sending you these when I'm gone so, I love you," And the camera stopped, catching the girl's broken expression rather than bright beautiful smile.

There was cheering, the video focus on Peter and his girlfriend kissing, whilst the few people around them clapped and cheered for the 'married' couple. Peter was lightly brushing away tears from her face when they pulled away, her doing the same to him. He suddenly smiled wide and picked her up bridal style, kissing her once more. "Ok Parker, you can stop kissing my little girl now!" Her mother shouted, Peter smiling sheepishly towards her but was soon brought into another kiss. When they pulled away, she stuck her tongue out to her mum before turning to Peter and pointing down the makeshift aisle.

The lights were dim but the video was still clear. It was the two dancing, swaying to the slow song as Peter rested his chin on the top of her head. She was clearly crying as was Peter, the two looking like they were holding on for dear life. Sweet whispered 'I love you's were shared and then the video stopped.

Peter wiped at his eyes harshly. It was the third time watching them since... And he still sobbed his eyes dry. I mean, of course he did, it was his first love. He hadn't even told the Avengers, whenever they asked if he was going to bring her to another party or if they'd get to meet her again, he'd just walk out. Go try not to break down somewhere where no one could see him. But he felt okay watching this on the big screen in the living room of the compound because no one was home or at least that was what he thought. And to begin with, they weren't. Actually it was the time he took to set up linking his phone to the TV that they all walked in quietly. That they all saw everything on those videos. That they finally understood why he was holding back from missions or patrolling every night. Why he wasn't free for dinner every Wednesday because 'he and May had dinner with someone important'. Why he wasn't spending his entire day talking about you anymore. They had thought it had been a break up, like a really bad one but it wasn't. So Peter sat sobbing on the couch, the superheroes crying behind him, yet to make their presence known. Even Natasha and Bucky were crying.

"Hey kid," Tony finally managed to say, Peter jumping up and spinning round to see them all there. "Um, how long have you been... there?"Just from their faces he knew, trying to cover up the fact he'd been crying but Tony immediately held his hands out as if it would stop him. "Wanna talk about it?" He looked like he was going to say no but then his eyes met Tony's and he had launched himself at the man. "She's gone," He cried into the man's shoulder, holding on like he was a lifeline.

"Y/N's gone,"

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #Peter Parker fem!reader #mentions of death and grief #mentions of a type cancer #angst #marvel #avengers at the end

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megumi-stan · 3 years

Text

|Soothe Me | M.F x Reader

A/N: It’s Soft Megumi hours! This was supposed to be a NSFW piece, but it was just so sweet i didn’t want to take the story there and distract from his loving and overall caring energy!

All characters are aged up in this story! Also, quick reminder that I’m open for requests :)

Dedication: Thank you so much @timewehad for sending such a sweet ask! You definitely motivated me to finish this thing i started a few days ago and completely forgot in my drafts!

Fighting curses for a living had a price. Besides the constant endangerment of your life.

Sore muscles.

Every time you bent down to tie your shoes, seven different muscles pulled painfully and at least ten vertebrae locked in place, forcing your body into a struggle to straighten itself. If you could walk just looking at the floor without it being weird, you wouldn’t bother to endure the hell that came with a straight spine. If only you had eyes in the top of your head like some of those slimy creatures you fought regularly, your life would be ten times easier.

After one particular busy night, your bed was calling your name. Busy in the sense that little weak curses kept popping around every corner nonstop, like a wicked game of whack-a-mole, only without the hammer. If you had one of those at hand, you surely would feel a lot less stressed. Something about smashing things was an exceptional way to relieve pent-up frustrations.

Walking up to your bed proved to be an arduous task, with your stiff legs and trembling muscles, but slowly you made progress. Your chest felt like it was about to cave in from exhaustion as you were slightly aware of the shower running and Megumi’s soft voice mumbling the lyrics of some cheesy 80’s love song he unexpectedly knew the lyrics of.

The soft comforter brushed your legs when you got to the bedside, and with no grace flopped down face first into it. You tried to kick off your slippers, but failed terribly as they refused to let go of your feet, so giving up you just left your legs dangling off the side.

Megumi’s sweet singing and the storm outside was a perfect recipe for sleeping, and right at that moment sleeping was all you could manage. Lulled, you drifted off into the place between dream and reality, still slightly aware of everything going around you but too busy making up fictional scenarios where you were laying on Megumi’s chest as a soft warm breeze ruffled your hair and the smell of ocean drowned the smell of coffee that lingered in your bedroom.

“What are you doing?” The fog dissipated, and suddenly you were face to face with your boyfriend.

Megumi had gotten out of the shower and was crouching down on the floor. A soft smile curved the tip of his full lips and amusement glinted in his eyes. Your eyes scanned his face and traveled lower, to the sharp curve of his jaw and the smooth skin of his throat. Drops of water still clung to his bare chest and glistened under the warm light of lamp resting on your bedside table. He looked like one of those greek gods you often appreciated in old paintings, all hard muscle but with a peaceful aura surrounding him, looking like he was a minute away from growing wings and taking off into the sunlight.

You hummed in acknowledgment and turned to your side, ten different vertebrae and a shoulder blade popping in the process. You winced, eyes drifting shut at the sharp spike of pain followed by the bliss of relieved pressure off of your nerves.

“Well, that sounded painful...” His fingers brushed a stray strand of hair out of your eyes and they lingered on your cheekbone, tracing idle circles on your skin. “I’m assuming work was a pain on your ass, huh?” Leaning in, his mouth lingered above your brow for a millisecond before pressing a chaste kiss on your forehead. His breath tickled you and warmth blossomed in your heart.

He got up and walked to the pile of clothes resting stop of a chair in the room’s corner. Your eyes followed his figure and never once blinked as you took in his graceful strides and the patch of pale skin often hidden by his pants, but now on full display because of the towel that hung dangerously low on his hips. He always complain about the word “beautiful” every time you used it next to the “you are”. He would argue non stop, stating you were just trying to boost his ego, but you never once found another word to describe him, and somehow you still felt that Beautiful wasn’t enough.

Not even the other girls gawking at him in the streets and shamelessly flirting while you, obviously his partner, stood next to him seemed to prove your point to Megumi. You couldn’t even be angry at the flirts. He was a sight worth of painting, framing, even adoring. He could be a god disguised as a mere mortal for all you knew, and even that would make more sense. It shouldn’t be possible for someone to be as breathtakingly beautiful as he was.

Even casually standing and just roaming through the pile of clothes, he made your stomach curl with something hot and heavy. The muscles on his arms flexed and his shoulder blades moved underneath his skin, doing very interesting things under the dim lights that had you hypnotized, eyes glued to his back and taking in everything they could, committing every single dip and crevice to memory. You could barely breathe while looking at him.

As if he could have felt your eyes on him like a caress, Megumi looked at you from the corner of his eye, a smirk tilted his mouth and a small barely noticeable dimple appeared on his cheek. Your muscles tensed at the sigh, suddenly too hot and bothered to relax when it was obvious he was evening something. The glint in his forest green irises was a dead giveaway.

Sighing intently while his eyes never once left your form, he loosened his grip on the towel. The white fabric slipped across his legs as it came undone and landed at his feet. Traveling the distance your fingers twitched to travel as well. He was sideways, showing you his profile as he grabbed a pair of loose black sweatpants. His well-defined thighs were teasing you, seemingly mocking you along with the deep V on his hip. His position was so that nothing too inappropriate could peek, and you were never awakened as fast as in that moment.

He slipped the pants on, managing not to flash you in the process and came right by your side, the smell of spice and pine from his deodorant enveloped you in a hug as he, in a sweet action that had your belly feeling funny from the amount of butterflies fluttering around, took off your slippers, his fingers casually brushing the arc of your feet and triggering chills down your arms.

“Thank you...” You muttered, turning to lie on your back. Another joint popped, but you couldn’t feel which one it was. Megumi Chuckled at this and shook his head while circling the bed. He sat down with his back against the headboard, going through his phone. His hip bone was leveled with your head and the temptation to just press your lips against it was poking your brain, but your body refused to move a few inches to do so. You were so exhausted and even tho it was worth it you couldn’t for the love of god lift your head from the mattress.

“Tired?” he questioned, while his fingers made their way to your head and sunk into your hair. With knowledge he had from years of dating and even before that when you two were just friends, Megumi’s fingers stroke your scalp, earning a soft hum of approbation from you. You looked up and found his eyes already on you, phone long forgotten because of the new task he had at hands.

“Yeah, a little…” You said, with your eyes fluttering close to enjoy the attention he was giving you.

Megumi patted your head a few times to catch your attention, and when you looked at him, he extended his arms towards you, asking you to get in between them. “Come here…” He invited, a sigh laced in his words.

You tried to push yourself up from the bed, but your treacherous arms failed you, giving up under your weight and sending you face first into your bed.

“Your helpless… You know?” Megumi chuckled under his breath before one of his arms snaked around your waist, his bicep flexing and pulling you onto his lap. Once he had you where he wanted, with your back pressed against his chest and his hands resting on your midriff, he kissed your cheek. Your eyes drifted shut simply enjoying his presence, letting the even rais and fall of his chest calm your mind. “Can i have a kiss?” he muttered, resting his chin on your shoulder, and peering at you with those forest green eyes that seemed to shine, and when he was so tender towards you, how could you deny?

Your chest soared with his words, so you turned your head to meet his awaiting lips, you could almost feel the softness of his mouth when a sharp searing pain stabbed your spine halting your movements as you squeezed your eyes tight. “Shit,” You cursed, pressing your palm against the ache in the back of your neck, hoping it would do something to soothe it.

“Oh, god… Baby, let me see?” Megumi’s fingers pried yours away and then brushed your hair away. His fingers thumb brushed your skin two times over the spot you were holding, and even though it still hurt, his concern seemed to tone the pain down a little.. “Does this hurts?” He applied a little more pressure and when you didn’t wince he kept going, tracing circles and working to erase the knots and kinks that bothered you. “Lean forwards for me…”

Doing just what Fushiguro instructed, you leaned forwards as he shifted underneath you. Suddenly you were no longer sitting on top of his legs but instead sitting in the mattress while his thighs circled yours, pressing against them and allowing his warmth to seep into your legs through the fabric of your jeans.

His other hand soon joined, and his fingers massaged your shoulders and neck intently. You could still feel the burn and sometimes when he pressed a little to hard on a specially sore spot you would yelp and try to get away from him, but he was fast to apologizes and land a kiss on the side of your neck.

You two spent fifteen minutes in that comfortable silence, until he perked up and and halted his movements

“I know what to do… Hold on a minute.” He shuffled behind you and leaped out of the bed, walking away into the bathroom without any explanation.

You just sat there, waiting, and wondering if he had some kind of lotion or cream to help you. You couldn’t recall ever seeing one in the shelves, but he often bought things and forget about them hours later.

The sound of running water rushed out and drowned the silence. You counted on your head, one minute, two, three… Still no signs of Megumi coming back to bed.

“Megumi?” Your answer came in the form of footsteps. Coming out of the room, he smiled at you as he approached. “What are you doing…?”

“Come here…” He said, not answering your question and scooping you up in his arms. On instinct your legs circled his waist while he supported your weight with his hands underneath your thighs.

“Megumi!” You laughed, surprised, clinging to his shoulders while he walked you two back into the steamed filled bathroom. The scent of flowers was what hit you first, closely followed by the sight of a filled tub with bubbles. “What?… Did you do this?” You asked in wonder, feeling cupid just shot another dozen arrows into your already pierced heart.

“Of course… You’re not feeling well, and a warm bath is a wonderful solution.” Pride shone in his eyes. He lowered you on the edge and took a step back. “Get in, and I’ll be right back.” He moved towards the door but hesitated before exiting the room. “Can you take off your clothes? Because I wouldn’t mind helping you out with that…”

“Oh god…” Embarrassment hit you like a wave and you covered your heated face with your hands. “That won’t be necessary, thank you. “

“Just looking out for my girl.” the dimple appeared again, and you almost wanted to crawl under the water to hide from the embarrassment. Even after all this time, he still earned a reaction from you.

“I’m sure you do.”

His laugh lingered in the air as he exited, and with shaky fingers you unbuttoned your jeans and slipped them off. The muscles on your back pulled as your pulled the hem of your shirt over your head, but you endured it. The sweet call of the warm water had you stripped down and inside the tub in no time.

Bubbles covered your chest as the heat from the water seeped into your body, the water brushed your chin as you just felt all the exhaustion from the day drain out of your body. Your eyes fluttered shut, and you lounged in the water like a tea bag without a care in the world.

“Comfortable?” Looking up, he was next to you once again.

“Very...”

He tapped something on his phone, and a soft guitar strummed. He placed it on the mirror shelf before grabbing the elastic of his pants. Noticing he was actually pulling them down, you turned away, covering your eyes.

“What are you doing!?” You asked, startled.

“Well... You seriously don’t expect me to get in with my pants on, do you?” He said matter-of-factly. And a shiver raced down your arms, while a heated wave pooled at the pit of your stomach.

“Are you getting in? You just showered! ” You stole a glance at him, forcing your gaze to stay on his face.

“Yes, but then you weren’t sitting in the bathroom with this much skin exposed... are you really embarrassed?” Laughing kicked the garment off. “You just watched me change a few minutes ago.”

“Shut up, Megumi.” You whined, fighting the urge to let your eyes roam.

“Come on, scoot over.” He laughed. “ I’m worried your might combust from embarrassment.”

Sighing, you moved forwards on the tub, letting enough space for him to sit behind you. The water rippled around you before you felt his soft skin brushing your bare back. His hands found yours and laced your fingers together.

“Better?”

“Yes, thank you, love...” You whispered, bringing your joined hands to your mouth and kissing his knuckles. Scars from past battles scattered the surface but you could only a testimony of his strength.

“Of course.” He squeezed you against his chest for a few heartbeats before asking. “Do you mid if I wash your hair?”

A heat that had nothing to do with the water temperature and all with the rumble of his words crept from your toes to your neck.

“I think I’d like that.”

Grabbing the bottle of shampoo, he dropped some of it on his palm and then he started robbing your scalp in lazy circles, his nails gently scraping it. You could feel his head swinging to the beat of the song sounding in the bathroom, before his voiced joined in.

Lyrics about love and happiness tumbled out of his mouth with a subtle rasp to them. And suddenly you were back to thinking about your dream, the one with beaches and warmth. Maybe a vacation wouldn’t hurt... You considered bringing it up, but the atmosphere was too serene to disrupt it with questions about his schedule. If you asked, it meant he had to stop singing in order to answer you, and that was the last thing you wanted at the moment.

Surely it was the warm water and his fingers, but sitting there listening to his voice and feeling his breath brushing your face, you concluded that Megumi’s mere presence was all you needed to feel better.

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