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zyafics · 1 year ago

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STAY THE NIGHT | Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (Oneshot)

Pairing — Rafe x FWB!Female Reader

Summary — When Rafe sees you as just a fuck buddy, you embody the role and remind him what that truly means.

Word Count — 5.5K

Content — 18+, Smut, Jealousy (From Rafe), Dominance Play, Oral Receiving (F + M), Fingering, P in V Sex, Unprotected Sex, Cockwarming, Praise Kink, Fluff At The End

Rafe Cameron doesn't get jealous.

You two aren't a couple. You are nothing more than casual fuck buddies that are conveniently located within proximity of one another when one of you need to blow off some steam or get off. The feeling is completely mutual.

However, you've been exclusive.

It's unspoken, of course. No one is willing to admit that they don't want the other to be sleeping with other people and you settled on that ambiguity.

You thought it could mean something more.

You thought wrong.

The other day, after fooling around, you laid in his bed, wearing nothing, and asked if you could stay the night. As part of your undefined relationship, you don't do sleepovers. Rafe doesn't do sleepovers. However, he was the one who was calling you after midnight. He was the one who wanted you to sneak out of your house, where your parents placed a curfew. If you go home now, you would be caught dead in the act and get into trouble. It would be easier to save yourself and stay over.

"No." Rafe declared, not letting the suggestion linger for more than a second. You lifted yourself from the bed by propping your elbows against his mattress, staring at the man who's searching for his throwaway clothes on the floor and redressed himself. "We don't do sleepovers. I don't want to be caught with a Pogue."

"Rafe." You said with a hint of annoyance. He saw you naked, but he was afraid of being seen with you in public? "It's fucking four in the morning. My parents are going to see me."

He scoffed. "Not my problem."

"So what? You don't care if I get in trouble?"

He shrugged, pulling his shirt over his chest. "You're just a fuck."

You said nothing. You just stared at him. He quickly gets dressed and finds your clothes around his floor, throwing them on the bed for you to take. With a huff, you pull yourself from the comforts and put them on.

"I'll call you." He said as you walked out of his bedroom, but you didn't answer him. All you did was flip him off and make your way out.

The next morning, you got in trouble with your parents regarding your absence. But, you said nothing, taking the lecture they gave you and headed to your room.

And you thought, if he sees me as a quick fuck, fine. I'll be just that.

The next Kook party, you were there. You always attended Kook parties, despite being a Pogue, simply because the alcohol is all free and it tasted better. No more cheap beer on The Boneyard, but you had to admit—the music was better.

Kooks can't play for shit.

This party happened to be on Tanneyhill, the mansion where Rafe lived. You haven't seen him since the last time you hooked up, and it's been the longest you've gone without seeing each other. Sure, he called you but you let it go to voicemails and all his texts were left on read. You know, without a doubt, Rafe would be looking for you and attempting to pull you to the nearest bathroom to fuck your brains out.

But you didn't care.

(Maybe just a little).

After dancing for a while, grinding against random strangers and making conversations with some friends of yours, you settled into a seat next to a Kook. He introduced himself as Ethan, and you chat with him as you drink from your cup, making small talk about what you're doing this summer.

He seemed interested enough. His eyes shamelessly glance down at your top, which practically shows off your tits, and floats back to your lips a couple of times. You knew if you wanted to, he would've follow you to a bedroom and fuck you.

But you didn't.

You laughed at his jokes. You told some of your own.

All while having an nagging feeling of a pair of eyes on the back of your head.

You didn't need to turn around to know who it was. You know exactly who.

And Rafe Cameron is fuming.

He noticed you when you first walked in, in a top that shows off too much and a skirt that covers practically nothing. You walked into Tanneyhill as if you owned the place, despite being a Pogue, and that's one of the things that irritates him about you.

But it also made him attracted to you.

Your confidence. Your demeanor. You never backed down when Rafe tries to put you in your place and you never let him gain control without a fight. He likes that you make him work for it; there's a thrill in the chase. Because he knows, at the end of the day, it's his bed that you ended up in. It's his cock that you're sucking.

But, at this moment, he isn't so sure. Instead of being in his arms, talking to him, you were talking to some random fucking guy who attended Kook Academy and is making you laugh.

You didn't even bother to tell him you were coming.

Rafe thought he could hold it in until he got you alone.

But that was before the guy put his hand on your upper thigh and you let him.

It takes mere seconds for Rafe to cross the yard, and when he comes behind you, it surprises you at how silent he was. "Get your hands off my fucking girl," he snapped at Ethan and before Ethan got the chance to back off, Rafe grabs your arm and pulls you off the chair, taking you inside of Tanneyhill.

You let him drag you for a few moments. The booze in your system is making your reaction sluggish, but when the realization dawns on you, you finally pull away when you reach in front of his bedroom, hidden in a dark hallway.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

He scoffs at your words. "What am I doing?" He repeats. You nod. He jabs an accusing finger in your direction. "What the fuck are you doing?"

You lift the cup to your lips. "I'm drinking."

His eyes are livid. "With that guy?" He gestures outside where Ethan is, jealousy pouring from his words and he sounds like he's using every inch of restraint he has to hold everything together. You shouldn't be enjoying it so much, but you are. When you don't answer him, feigning a bored expression, Rafe gets more frustrated. He doesn't like that you aren't reacting. He doesn't like it at all. "What's your fucking problem?"

You lift your shoulders in a casual shrug, pressing the red solo cup against your lips and says, "thought I was just another fuck."

He knows you were throwing his words back at him. He knows that this is some fucking test that you're doing to drive him bad. He also knows it's working, so much so that he knocks the cup out of your hands, causing the content to spill all over his marble floor. "Fuck you."

You scoff, unfazed by his aggression. "You already did." You say, and while Rafe is silently raging underneath, you decide to take it a step further. Closing in the distance until you're right in front of his face, you smirk, "and you fucking loved it."

Rafe is breathing hard, his blue eyes searching your face, his chest raising and falling in rapid beats as frustration rolls off of him, all while you tip your head to the side, raising your brow, challenging him to respond.

He does.

By slamming his lips against yours.

One of his hands catches the back of your neck as he presses a bruising and punishing kiss against your lips, eliciting a moan from the back of your throat. Instinctively, you throw your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer.

"You're mine." He breathes against your lips when you break apart, trailing kisses down the column of your neck as you tip your head back to give him more access, feeling his mouth working against your skin. "And no fucking asshole from the Academy is going to take you away from me."

Wanting to tease him further, you say. "What if I leave?"

He answers you by sucking on a sensitive spot on your neck, causing you to arch into him and let out an involuntary moan as his free hand descends down to your short skirt and roughly palms your ass. Rafe chuckles against your skin, satisfied by your body's reaction to him. "Then no one is going to make you feel like I do."

His hands move to pull down your top, causing your tits to spill out of the fabric. The cold air pricks at your exposed skin and Rafe takes a beat of a second to admire you before lifting his gaze to meet you in an easy, cocky grin.

"So ready for me," he teases, moving his hand up to play with your hardened nipples between his fingers. You let out a small sigh. "God, you're fucking gorgeous."

"Shut up," you say, not liking how his words are making your cheeks flush with heat and a flutter of butterflies to swarm your stomach. This is just a fuck, you remind yourself. He lifts his blue eyes to meet you for a brief second before descending his mouth down to cover one of your nipples.

You always like playing with yourself there. As his tongue swirls around the sensitive tip, his teeth lightly graze against the bud, causing your moan to echo across the hallway and his hand immediately slaps over your mouth, silencing them.

Rafe's eyes lock with yours. "You don't want anyone to hear what a needy girl you are, do you?"

You clench your jaw underneath his hand, at his dominance, but when you don't answer fast enough, he asks again. "Do you?"

You shake your head and he pulls himself off of you, the cold invades the absence of his heat. But, Rafe doesn't leave you for long. He grabs your hand and pulls you into his bedroom. The moment the door slams close, his lips return on yours and his hands explore over your exposed body.

Your core clenches as Rafe slams you against the back of the door, kissing you hungrily as he lowers his hand to the cutoff of your skirt and pushes the flimsy material up to your hips before cupping your pussy.

"God, you're dripping," he says with a small laugh, looking up to you. "Are you this wet for me, baby?"

You are. Rafe Cameron has a way to make your entire body responsive to him, his touch, his kisses, his everything. But, you don't want to let him know that. You don't know how much you want it, how much you need it.

Instead of answering him, you say with a roughness to your voice, "if you don't fuck me, Cameron, I'll find someone else who will."

Humor leaves his face and his expression hardens. He cups your cunt hard, causing you to involuntary jolt forward into his hand and a small whimper to escape you. "This is mine. No other fucking man is going to touch this but me."

"Big words for someone who hasn't made me come."

His eyes darken and, with your taunting and teasing getting to him, he finally pushes your panties to the side and inserts a rough finger inside of your pussy, causing you to wince at the abrupt motion. "Can you handle it?"

You nod with closed eyes, feeling as he adds a second finger, thrusting in a steady but rough pace, his other hand fondling with your tits.

You lean back against the door with heavy breaths, moaning and clenching as your orgasm builds from his rhythm. Rafe knows your body, he knows you're about to come, and as your moans get more erratic and you grind harder into his hand, he quickens his thrusts. Leaning into you, he says to your ear, "let it out, baby."

You do.

Your walls clench around his fingers tightly as you ride on your high, so much so that you hear his muttered fuck under his breath. When you're slowly coming down from your climax, Rafe removes his hand. The loss of his touch causes you to frown but before you get the chance to open your eyes and complain, he pushes the wet digits against the entrance of your lips. "Suck."

You want to argue back, about him telling you what to do, but you can't seem to help but listen. Your eyes open and find his face, watching you as you suck his fingers clean of your arousal. "Good girl."

When he withdraws his fingers, clarity dawns on you. He's wearing too much while you're practically exposed. You didn't like how uneven the playing field is, and with a gesture to his shirt and pants, you demand. "Take it off."

His smirk is smug. "Eager, aren't we?"

"If I have to be naked, so do you."

"You aren't naked." He gestures back to you and you look down at yourself. While your tits are showing and your panties are soak, he's right, you technically aren't naked. Not afraid of backing down from a challenge, you easily pull your tiny top over your shoulders and push your skirt and panties down to your ankles.

Stepping out of them, you look back to see Rafe admiring your naked body. You can see the outline of his erection straining against his pants, and for a moment, a self-consciousness creeps up on you and you blush. With a hard swallow, you point to him. "Your turn."

The corner of his lips quirks up at how demanding you are and he pulls his shirt over his body, revealing the defined and taunt muscles of his chest underneath. Your mouth waters. You watch as he goes for his belt—knowing you’re watching—that he teases it out slowly. He messes with the buckle, taking his sweet time, that you grow impatient.

"Goddammit," you mutter under your breath, approaching him and pushing his hands out of the way, sinking to your knees as you unbuckle the belt with ease—practices from all the other times. When you pull it out of his pants, you stop, looking up to Rafe.

"Go on, princess." He gestures, a cocky grin at the sight of you on your knees for him. "Finish what you started."

You hate how much power he has over you this time, how he is telling you what to do, but because of how needy you are, how much you want him between your legs and his cock to be in you, you listen. You unzip and pull down his pants, revealing an impressed bulge underneath his briefs. With one easy tug, you freed his cock and it stood in front of you, hard and leaking with pre-cum.

On your knees, you look up to see Rafe watching you, waiting to see what you do. His eyes are hungry and his arousal is obvious. Tentatively, you wrap your hand around the thick cock, your fingers barely connecting together because of his girth.

And slowly, you rub up and down his shaft.

A hiss leaves the back of Rafe's throat and satisfaction pools in your core at the realization that you are making him feel this way, that you have this much control. "Faster." He commands, his voice thick with desire.

Instead of listening to his orders, you open your mouth and take his cock in your mouth, swallowing the salty taste as you swirl your tongue at his head. Added with the motion of your hand playing with his balls, and rubbing him up and down, Rafe can’t help but rock his hips against your face.

“Fuck,” he swears, his hand finds your hair and pulls your closer to him, as your grip around him gets firmer and you hollow your cheeks, creating a stronger suction. Rafe groans under your touch, tugging the root of your strands, wanting you to do anything and everything to build him closer to his climax. “Fuck, baby, I’m close.”

With that pride of information, you slow down, your fingers loosen their pace and you pop the cock out of your mouth. Rafe feels the instant loss of touch and he looks down at you, his expression hard and angry.

"What the fuck?"

"Say please."

He says your name in a command, but you don't budge.

Rafe's blue eyes are hard. He knows you do this. He knows you like to mess with him, take back control whenever you find yourself in a small position of power and remind him of his place. Irritation builds in his chest, this time worse than the others, but so does his delayed climax. He needs it more.

With a reluctant sigh, he says, "please."

You return your motion, moving in slow, torturous strokes as your hand moves up and down his slick length, creating enough pleasure for him to feel but not enough friction to ease into his climax. Your mouth has yet to return on his cock and without the added assistance, his jaw tense and his frustration and horniness builds.

In a desperate plea, Rafe begs, "baby, please."

His voice didn't sound like his own and his words are so rough, so willing, that you can't help but alleviate him from his misery. You reconnect your lips on his tip and begin to rub his faster, firmer, sucking him harder. With the edge of delay, Rafe comes fast with a guttural groan, spilling in your mouth as you lap over the taste, swallowing all of it.

Rafe lowers himself and guides you back to your feet, pulling you towards the bed and pushing you flat against the mattress, laying on your back.

He lowers himself off the edge of the bed, sinking to his knees as he steps in front of your exposed pussy, and looks up to see the self-satisfied smirk on your face at the little stunt you pulled back there. In a low voice, he says, "you're going to regret that."

A finger drags up your slit, in a slow motion, gathering your wetness on the digit but producing enough pressure that it makes you whine. You try to grind yourself against his hand but he lays his palm on the flat of your stomach, holding you in place.

When his eyes connect with your needy gaze, he says, “my turn.”

Dipping his head between your legs, he kisses your inner thighs in slow, agonizing touches. It produces an aching feel to your core as he gives careful attention to both of your thighs, slowly creeping up to your throbbing cunt, but not quite giving you a release.

Rafe lingers on a particular sensitive spot near your pussy, sucking and kissing the placement until you're writhing in pleasure and frustration, desperate to feel his tongue in you.

"Rafe," you say with a throaty beg and he grins against your skin.

"I said you're going to regret it."

"Yeah, and if you take any longer, I'm going to go downstairs to find Ethan."

Rafe hates it when you mention other men, or even think of other men, especially when he’s fucking you, but it does the trick as he moves between you and his fingers spread your folds. “You are this wet for me, baby, not Ethan,” he reminds you, before lowering himself to your pussy, flattening his tongue against your center before moving up and down in slow strokes.

“Fuck,” you moan as he finds your sensitive clit and sucks on the nub, the sound of wetness fills the bedroom as the low volume of the music thumps from downstairs. He lets one finger enter your cunt, beginning at a slow pace. “Rafe, ohmygod.”

He moves faster, rougher, lapping out your taste as if he was dying of thirst. With his finger quickening and his tongue working a miracle on you, another orgasm builds.

“I’m close,” you whisper and he nods. He moves with precision and god, Rafe Cameron is good at eating pussy. When his tongue enters into you and the pad of his thumb rubs circular motions around your clit, you can’t help but arch into his pleasure and come on his face.

You fall against the mattress with a heavy breath, but Rafe doesn’t stop. He continues to suck and lap and rub, causing you to wrap your thighs tightly around his head. You’re already so exhausted, so sensitive, coming down from your high, but that does nothing to satiate the man between your legs—fingers and tongue buried inside of you, still hungry.

Your thighs violently shake and your fingers rack through his hair, pulling, “ohmygod, ohmygod,” you moan as he works another orgasm from you, your stomach tightening and the pressure being so unbearable you feel as if you’re going to cave and explode.

“Come for me, baby, I want another one.” He mumbles against your cunt, the low hum of his voice vibrates through your body in a pleasurable sensation. With a rougher pace and a harder suction around your clit, you come for a second time in a row.

You’re an absolute wreck when he pulls away and, assessing the damage he caused, Rafe chuckles at the sight before him. You splay out on the mattress, breathing heavily with low lids and the prettiest pussy. He lowers himself, placing both hands on either side of your head to carry his weight, he plants a soft kiss on your lips.

His eyes set on you, a gentle gaze, and whispers. “Can you take another, baby?”

Though you are weak from all the orgasms you endured, you still nod, looping your arms around his neck as he descends closer to you, planting kisses against your lips, the corner of your mouth, to the edge of your jawline. You can feel his erection grazing at your entrance, waiting to enter, and the thought itself ignites another round of passion and need within you.

Rafe pulls back just enough to line his cock against your wet folds. Before he enters, he looks up to you, waiting for a confirmation sign. When you nod, he slowly pushes the length into your aching core and you jerk forward.

He goes in slow at first, allowing your walls to adjust to his size because, no matter how many times he’s been inside of you, it still takes a moment for your pussy to register that this is him. That this is his pussy. A hiss escapes the back of his throat. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

You, with what little strength you have left, push yourself up as he rocks against your hips, beginning his thrusts. You get closer to him, grabbing his shoulders, while he takes the opportunity to play with your tits.

This new position allows him to enter deeper inside of you, hitting a new angle, causing you to let out a cry from the explosion of pleasure. In addition to the remnants of the orgasms you had a few moments prior, as Rafe pounds into your very sensitive core, you begin to feel as if you’re seeing stars.

Rafe leans down, closer to your ear as he asks, "who's fucking you?"

You feel your stomach knot and tighten, knowing he’s getting you close. But, you also can feel his cock twitching inside your walls, alerting you that he’s also getting close. With this dynamic power, you turn your head to face Rafe, connecting your heavy-lid eyes with his.

“Ethan.”

Rafe stills. His eyes darken at your words, watching the way your lips curl with an innocent look and he decided he hates it. He hates this little power play you're doing to him, he hates how it's working. He knows that you two are nothing more than fuck buddies, but without the reassurance that you are his—fully, devotedly his—he doesn't know if you haven't fucked another guy before. If you haven't had Ethan's name on your lips.

His hand lowers between the two of you, lightly grazing against your sensitive clit. You jolt into his touch. "Did you fuck him?"

His voice is low, dangerously low, as you watch how serious he turned with the tease of another man's name. You tilt your head to the side, challenging him. "And if I did?"

He pinches your clit and your hips arch forward, but he uses his other hand to grab it still. Your core throbbing while he remains inside of you and does nothing. You realize, in this moment, that you might've gone too far. You feel full and have everything in your possession to make you reach your highest peak but you chose to delay it with a joke that wasn't even that funny.

Especially not now.

Rafe slowly rubs your clit with his fingers, painfully light, teasing and punishing you all in one. You gasp into his touch, but he doesn't let you move. His grip remains firm on your hips, holding you in place as you ache around his cock, as he can feel your walls clench around him, begging to be fucked.

But he needs to hear you say it.

"Rafe," you choke, and his eyes connect with yours. Your eyes are teary, your breathing is erratic, and you are trying desperately to produce some friction between your legs and give you some semblance of pleasure. "Rafe, move."

"No, princess," he says with a deadly calm, shaking his head. "You want to play mind games with me all night, fine. But tonight, I'm going to fucking hear you say my name." He repeats himself with aggression, his fingers skims across your sensitive nub. "Who. Is. Fucking. You?"

You grip his shoulders, your eyes meeting his, and your core aches painfully. You try to grind yourself against him, trying to produce some friction of your own, but he uses both hands to grab your hips, stilling you in place with a deadly grip you are sure is going to leave a mark.

He shakes his head, firm on getting the answer out of you.

With teary eyes, you beg. "Please, Rafe. Please."

He grins with that self-satisfying charm. He loves it when you finally break your dominance. He loves it more when he can break you.

His thrust begins at a slow rate, still on the edge of punishment, but at least you can feel some friction producing between your legs. You look down at his cock entering and leaving your cunt, the image gratifying, but Rafe roughly grabs your chin and forces you to look back up.

"Look at me." He commands, his voice shallow as the slow thrust is killing him, but he needed to teach you a lesson. "I want you to remember this when you're looking at anyone else. Talking to any other fucking guy. Remember how I make you feel."

You nod frantically. Desperate at this point to say anything to get Rafe to move faster, harder, providing you with your climax. He sees it in your eyes, how he finally got you, that it makes him smile.

"God, look at you," he chuckles. "You want me to fuck you so bad."

"Yes," you beg, "yes, please. I'll do anything."

"Anything?" He asks again, the proposition is too nice to tease out.

You nod, blinking through the tears. "Anything."

He grins at this exchange of power, when he holds all of it, that he finally relents and quickens his pace. You grip harder on his shoulders as Rafe thrusts into you, rocking his hips against yours.

You claw and moan against his skin, using it as an anchor for all the pain and pleasure ripping through you, and he takes it as a mark of honor. When he lowers one hand between the two of you, using the pad of his thumb to rub small circles around your clit, you see stars float in your vision.

"I'm coming," you pant against his skin. "God, please, I'm coming."

Rafe's hand finds the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him, and nods. "Come for me, baby."

When you feel your orgasm hit its all-time high, you slump in exhaustion against his shoulders, while he continues to move in and out of you. It takes a few seconds later before Rafe comes, feeling his hot cum leaking out of you.

He doesn’t remove his cock from your pussy and honestly, you don’t want him to. You want to stay like this for a moment, to catch your breath and come to the dawning realization that this is the best sex of your life. You didn’t want it to end.

Rafe lays his chin on your small shoulder, pushing your wet hair to the side as he recovers.

“Be my girl.” He whispers, so quiet, that you thought you imagined it. You weakly pull back, connecting your widened eyes with his.

"What?"

"Be my girl," he repeats once more, his blue eyes vulnerable and tracing your features to see if there's any hint of rejection on the bay. "I can't fucking stand you with other guys. I don't even want you to say their names. I want you. All of you."

You hesitate. "Rafe..."

"You said you'll do anything." He reminds you.

"You said you don't want to be seen with a Pogue."

He growls. "Fuck what I said," he snaps with a shake of his head, raising his hand to wipe the leftover tears from your face. "I want you. I don’t care about anything else. Just say yes."

You look at him and soften your gaze. You have wanted this, you admit, you wanted him to confess to you that he wants you as much as you want him. But, for a moment, in this brief second, you’re afraid that if you agree you would submit to everything you’ve fought against. The control you tried so hard to retain.

He sees it. He knows you’re having an internal battle. Using his hand, he cups the side of your face, the heat and comfort of his palm makes you instinctively lean into him. “Please.” He begs softly, giving you one last shred of power.

With a small chuckle of your own, you finally nod. "Okay."

He grins, and without hesitation, presses another kiss against your lips. This time, it lacks the power and control you two have been fighting for all night but rather is sweet, sensitive and patient. He pushes you back against the mattress, using his arms to hold up his weight.

When he pulls apart, both of you are out of breath and breathing heavily. He offers you a genuine smile, at how proud he is that you’re his, and uses the pad of his thumb to rub across your flushed cheeks. “God, you’re gorgeous.”

You blush, waiting to pull away from his touch but Rafe knows you. He grabs a hold of your face, holding you in place so you can’t tear your gaze from him. “I’m serious. Since you’re my girlfriend now, you have to get used to that or else people are going to assume I don’t compliment you enough.”

You scoff. “You don’t. The only times you say nice things to me is when you’re in me.”

“Yeah?” He challenges, cocking one of his brows. You nod. “That’s going to change. Prepare for me to shower you with compliments every time I see you,” he says, as he lowers himself and plants a soft kiss on your shoulder blade. “Especially when I’m in you.”

You roll your eyes, pushing him off as your eyes find the clock in the back of the wall. You didn’t realize how late it was.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. Rafe turns to you, his brows knit together in confusion.

"What?"

"It's almost one am. I promised my parents I was going to go home at eleven."

He glances at the clock, before returning his gaze back to you. "Stay the night."

"What?"

"You said it would save you trouble, right?" You hesitantly nod. "Just stay the night."

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. You can’t believe how much he’s willing to give in now that you’re finally his. Maybe you should’ve made him jealous a long time ago. Your first instinct is to tease him about it, but you decide that you had enough power play. The both of you deserve some rest and plus, sleeping with Rafe would be a comforting feel after the sex you just had.

When he comes to approach you, settling between your legs as he waits for an answer, you run your hands through his messy blond locks. “Okay.”

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deffonotsupposedtobehere · 2 months ago

Text

𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐏 (𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐏)

Yandere! Batfam x F!Reader

Synopsis: No matter where you go... you're always—always—bumping into one of them.

Warnings: Implicit sexual content and scenarios, implied noncon, maybe ooc writing, kidnapping, extremely obsessive behaviour, isolation, manipulation, threat, mentions of stockholm syndrome, dead dove: do not eat

Disclaimer: Everyone is depicted as 18+. Your relationship with yandere batfam is ambiguous, but it is not platonic, at least, not in their eyes. This is a horror, not a romance.

You don't think you've ever felt your skin crawl as much as it does when those boys look at you.

The feeling is vivid, this coil of disgust that weaves between your bones and squeezes you tight enough to make you shudder.

It curls around you like a snake. Hissing and gliding and slithering through your ribs until it leaves you reeling back from all the slime, a wince barely able to describe the expression on your face.

But it's nothing compared to when they touch you.

"Y/N?"

They claim to be bats but it's only spiders you feel on your skin when Tim brushes his fingers against it.

"Are you alright?"

You don't bother to hide the way you flinch back, or ease the way your hand yanks out of his grasp.

"I'm fine."

Tim frowns, gaze falling down and stretched-out hand retreating to hold his other arm, gripping it like he would've done yours had you let him.

The sight is enough to make you feel green.

"Are—uh, are you sure?"

He starts playing with his sleeve as he asks you that, fiddles with it like he's some sort of nervous school boy speaking to his crush and not a fully grown adult who took part in your fucking kidnapping.

It's sickening.

"Yes," you hiss out through barely gritted teeth, "I'm sure."

Tim flinches back, Adam's apple rolling along his throat as his gaze flits to the side.

"Well, uh," he starts, tongue sweeping over dry lips, "In that case... you should probably head back inside. Everyone's worried. You've been out for awhile."

Inside... where the rest of them all are.

You take a moment to flick your eyes to the right, the familiar sight of a zoomed lens stuck on your form greeting you with a smile.

You don't want to go back inside.

Something liquid passes over your tongue and spills down your throat before you're taking a step forward and training your gaze onto the hoodie-wearing male before you.

"Do I have to?"

The effect is instant, Tim's gaze almost immediately glazing over as his lips part and his mouth somehow visibly goes dry.

"I—uh."

You give yourself a second to squeeze your eyes shut in brief disgust before taking another step forward and holding in a shudder when his breath hitches.

"Can't I just stay out here a little longer?"

He stares at you with blank eyes. But not blank enough.

Just a bit more.

"...With you?"

Bingo.

Tim's breath doesn't just hitch this time, it shudders, breaks up every second like there's something blocking it from leaving his mouth, like he's forgotten how to properly breathe.

His whole form is quivering and his legs look like they're a centimetre away from giving in, from collapsing until he's on his knees in front of you.

And then he is.

The cotton of your skirt scrunches up as he holds it with both hands, head tilted up and gaze swirling when he looks at you, all previous pretend normalcy gone like the fake persona that it was.

"Anything..." he breathes out, grip tightening over your thighs, "Anything... anything... please..."

This time, you can't hold back the way your expression contorts, the way your body leans back and your spine coils like a spring just waiting to jump away.

What he's pleading for, you don't even want to think about, all your previous willpower leaving you at once when he starts to press his lips right up against your hips, murmuring into your clothes with a breath hot enough to seep through them and into your skin.

"Off... get off of me!"

You almost fall in your struggle to get out of his grip, and something icky settles in your stomach when you register the wet patch on your clothes right where his lips were.

Fucking freak.

You don't even bother giving him a second glance as you run back into the manor, the wind pushing against that damn patch and making the skin underneath it feel abnormally cold compared to the rest of your body.

You're definitely changing your fucking clothes. Holy shit.

"Miss Y/N?"

Your ears perk up, the voice of their butler stiffening your spine.

"Are you alright?"

Your gaze hardens. Why does everyone keep asking you that?

You barely mutter out a response before you're pushing past him. He may not have taken part in your kidnapping himself, but he's still complicit in their fucked up little scheme.

And you aren't about to treat him any better than them.

You release a breath after a few steps, shoulders falling for just a brief second before rising again, tenser than before.

Goosebumps.

Someone's watching you. Demon spawn.

Your gaze falls to the right, and sure enough, there he is, cloaked in shadows just like his father.

His gaze is piercing. Unreadable. Every bit the expressionless ghost that he is.

He doesn't say a word. Usually never does. Just watches. Waits. For what, you don't know. But you usually don't stick around long enough to find out.

That's not changing today.

His gaze follows you as you walk, and you're squeezing your eyes shut again at the sound of his nose taking you in when you pass by him.

And just when you think you can get away with once again not saying a word to the usually quiet man, his grip on your arm renders you still.

"Beloved."

Something burns in your throat.

"Where are you headed?"

'Away from you.'

"To my room."

"Allow me to accompany you."

"I'll be fine on my own."

You attempt to tug your arm away.

"I insist." His grip tightens.

You stare at him. He stares back at you.

For a moment, everything stills, the world stopping to accommodate the both of you, drowning everyone else out until it's just the two of you.

Then, the water drains away.

"Demon brat. The hell are you doing?"

The grip on your arm loosens enough for a tug to free you, and you waste no time rushing to your room, catching a glimpse of dark hair paired with a broad frame before you're slamming your door shut and leaning against it with a chest heaving up and down.

But of course, you should've known that even your own damn room isn't safe from them.

"Hm, is this the gift I got you last summer?"

You still, eyes flying over to the figure by your dresser.

"I was wondering where it was." The oldest grins, your jewellery's glint practically reflecting off his white teeth with a wink. "How come you never wear it, babe?"

He's leaning on one arm, the other holding your gift high enough to catch the light of the sun that bleeds through your window as he looks at it like an artist admiring a painting. If said artist was a monster hiding behind a boyish smile, that is.

"Dick..." you breathe out his name, and squeeze your eyes shut at the way he licks his lips, "...get out of my room."

"Nah"—he lowers your necklace, grin wolfish—"I don't think I will."

The piece of jewellery meets your dresser with a soft clink before he takes a step towards you, and your eyes dart around the room for just the smallest opening.

He blocks your gaze.

"Tut tut tut"—Dick shakes his head, wagging a finger as his eyes glint with that sick sense of amusement of his—"is the little birdie trying to escape?"

Your jaw sets, almost biting your tongue had it not retreated further into your mouth in time.

"And here I thought I was your favourite."

You avert your gaze from his, trying your best to imagine you're anywhere but here, though apparently, he saw that coming.

His hands slam beside your head loud enough to make you flinch, and the rush of wind that accompanies his actions reminds you of Tim's earlier ones when the cold makes its way to your hips first, further solidifying that this, right here, is your reality.

Disgusting.

Your eyes squeeze shut.

Revolting.

Spiders crawl under your chin.

Nauseating.

"Mm. Hiding again, are we, pretty girl?" he purrs so close to your face.

You only gulp in response.

"Do I need to draw you out myself?"

His breath is on your neck now, lips ghosting over the exposed skin as you inwardly curse yourself for not wearing a turtleneck earlier today. For leaving your room at all really. Maybe if you hadn't spent so much time outside, they wouldn't be as antsy as they are now.

Fucking pieces of—

Your shoulders tense.

Tingles. Explosive, dangerous, horribly unpleasant tingles all over your neck. All around his lips.

You raise your hands, bracing yourself, but just before you can push at his chest—sob and beg and plead for him to go away and just leave you alone—a knock sounds at your door.

You feel the vibrations of his growl against your neck.

"What?"

The voice on the other side is muffled. "Uh, Mr Wayne wants you."

Dick pauses, head still buried in your neck, not reacting as though the longer he delays it, the longer he can stay here, nestled against you.

Like you'd ever let him.

You push at his chest, and he lets you, because he's letting you, pulling away with a groan before regarding you with one last look, intense and unwavering.

"Don't think this is over."

With that, you fling yourself off your door like it stung you, and he leaves the room briskly, sending a brief glare to the person right outside.

You release a sigh, gaze falling to your saviour.

"Uhm, Mr Wayne isn't actually calling him. I just figured that would keep him busy for a while."

The gaze of the most recently adopted son (though that was years back already) flits to the side, fingers playing with his collar.

Your lips quirk up. "Thank you, Duke."

He perks up. "It's uh, it's no problem, Y/N."

He stands there, awkwardly shuffling on his feet for a bit before you're letting out a sigh and following it up with a, "Do you... wanna come inside?"

His eyes widen at your invite, fingers freezing right where they were fiddling with his collar as he regards you with parted lips and an air of disbelief.

It is strange, you'll give him that, but your reason for it isn't anything noble. Having him in your room will likely deter the other, worse ones from entering in hopes of some sick one-on-one time with you.

Besides, you've seen no sign of him harbouring the same feelings for you as they do. At least, not to their intensity.

You'll kick him out if need be.

With a step back, you're nodding towards your room, and already, you make note of how his own steps seem all-too-eager as he follows you in.

Strike one.

You don't bother closing the door, not fully anyway, just enough to leave a visible gap so everyone can see exactly what you'd like them to, and stop reading your room as an open invitation to come harass you alone.

When you turn around, Duke is already staring back at you, lips parted and gaze distant, far, as though trapped in some sort of trance.

"Duke?"

He shakes his head, blinking his eyes wide open. "Oh, uh, sorry. I was just uh... thinking."

Strike two.

At this rate, he'll be out before even five minutes have passed.

"Do you... do you want anything?"

You raise a brow, watching the man rock on his heels.

"You're asking me if I want anything in my room?"

"Right, right. That was stupid."

Your lips quirk up, a dangerously fond thought crossing your mind before you halt it right in place and steel your expression again.

You didn't think this through. You did not think this through at all.

You're not supposed to have thought that was cute. Why did you think that was cute?

He kidnapped you. He and his brothers—they all kidnapped you.

Strike three.

"Out..."

Your words come out quiet, a whisper in the wind, a barely-heard current over hail.

"Huh?"

"Get out."

Duke takes a step back, blinking with those stupid fucking wide eyes of his that he just can't seem to stop regarding you with. But even still, he makes no further indication of leaving.

Is he deaf or something?

"Get. out!"

The man flinches at your tone, though unlike before, he actually starts towards the door. But not without throwing one last glance at you over his shoulder, brows scrunched and eyes swirling with that same look they all take on when they pretend to care.

The one they give you before all the brothers know about your outburst.

The door shuts with a click.

Your hips feel cold.

Spiders crawl all over your skin.

And before you know it, you're curled up on your bed, lower half covered by nothing but your underwear, and skirt laying discarded in the corner of your room.

A knock.

"Princess?"

You pull your knees closer to your chest.

"I'm coming in."

Why even bother with a warning?

The bed dips with a weight.

"You alright?"

'No.'

You purse your lips.

"'Ts okay. Everything's gonna be okay."

His hand, calloused and familiar and full of just as many spiders as all his other brothers', presses flat against your bare thigh.

"I'm here to make it all go away."

He pulls, gentle, but firm enough to unravel you, like a gift carefully being opened.

"You'll feel so good."

The bed dips even further.

"Promise."

And the last thing you see before all your fight gives way—

—is Jason's face smiling down at you.

#female reader #yandere batfam #yandere batfam x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere dick grayson #yandere jason todd #yandere tim drake #yandere duke thomas #yandere damian wayne #x reader #batfam #batfam x reader #dc x reader #yandere dc x reader

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osmanthus-wine-addiction · 3 months ago

Text

23 Voyeurism

Zhongli x Reader / NSFW / Modern AU / Reader is a camgirl / Consensual Voyeurism and Exhibitionism / Zhongli is reader's landlord and sort of her roommate / Power imbalance / Ambiguous age gap / Emotional avoidance and fear of attachment / Mentions of manipulation, blackmail, and parasocial dynamics / Don't worry, it's sweet at the end! / Word count 12K

You would've noticed someone standing at your door had you been less occupied with your chat. When you finally turned at the knock on your door, your eyes landed on the unexpected face of your landlord, whom you hadn't seen in almost half a year. Your heart might as well have stopped.

"Ahem… I did not mean to intrude." A deep voice pierced the silence.

Your chat went crazy. How could it not? The expression on your face changed three times in the span of a second. First was pleasant surprise, then panic, finally settling on a furious blush. Your chat was going a million miles an hour, demanding to know who had interrupted your stream. Wild guesses were thrown around. Some were close, others way off. Nobody got it right.

"Perhaps it would be best if you closed your door." The man at your doorway reminds you.

"Thanks. Can you please shut it for me?" You asked sheepishly.

The door clicked and you tried to resume the stream, but no matter what you tried, you were unable to get back into the right state of mind. Zhongli's sudden appearance had completely thrown you off your boat. All you could think about was him now.

You bit your lip in frustration as Zhongli's devastatingly handsome face resurfaced in your mind. When you first met your landlord in person, you instantly developed a crush on him. With the eloquent way he talked, you had expected someone well put together, but you didn't expect him to be this good-looking. It was just a pity he only graced your eyes once every few months, each stay limited to a fleeting week or so. He came and went, leaving you both thankful and disappointed. He would usually send you a short notice by text just before he lands, but you were streaming today and had been ignoring all your calls and messages.

You end the stream and drag your anxious self out of your room. To your horror, Zhongli steps out of his own room at the same time. His hair was still slightly wet, indicating he had just taken a shower. You awkwardly follow him into the living room, taking a seat as he fetches a pot of tea that had been brewing. He set down two cups and filled them, one for you and one for himself. Finally, he lowers himself into the adjacent seat, amber eyes falling on your flustered face while crossing his legs elegantly. He raised his cup to his lips, taking an unhurried sip. You felt like you had returned to your highschool days, sitting in the dean's office.

Zhongli was significantly older than you, so even if he doesn't intentionally intimidate you, you felt small in his presence. It didn't help that he had accidentally witnessed you doing such a scandalous act. The memory would probably scar him forever if you did not alleviate the tension right away.

"I'm sorry you had to see that!" You said all in one breath.

"Are you perhaps in need of money?"

"No!" You answered too quickly. "I mean yes, I originally started doing it for the money. This place isn't exactly cheap haha…" You laughed nervously. "I'm okay now."

Working a job like yours, you wouldn't normally be able to afford to rent a place like this alone, especially not with the rampant price hikes in the market right now. It was perfect, close to your workplace and located in a safe, guarded community. Best of all, your only roommate, who also happened to be the owner of the property, was never around. He only needed to keep one of the two rooms locked for when he happened to be in the city during business trips. To say you got used to his absence was an understatement. You often left doors wide open and walked around the house half-naked. Only during his brief stays did you behave yourself and keep up some semblance of decency.

"I apologize if I came off judgemental. That was not my intention. What you do to earn a living is not my concern, as long as you don't miss any of your monthly payments."

"So I'm not going to get evicted?"

Zhongli chuckled. "I do not believe you are breaching any of the terms stipulated in our lease, so why would you be?"

You let out a breath of relief.

"So how long have you been home?" You asked, not realizing how the question could imply other things.

He cleared his throat. "Half an hour."

Your eyes widened as a flush rose in your cheeks. He definitely heard more than he could stomach, or he wouldn't have come knocking.

If it weren't for your voice, he might've thought there was a stranger in his house. All those flirtatious interactions with your chat was a persona you put on for the camera. The person you presented yourself as was much bolder than how you were in real life, how Zhongli remembers you. You imagined how shocked he was, standing in front of your bedroom door, catching you shamelessly touching yourself while entertaining your audience. How long did he endure the sounds coming from your room before he got up to see what you were up to? Just how long had he been standing in front of your open door before he knocked?

Did he perhaps get a bit excited watching you entertain your thirsty viewers? Was that why he had to go get a shower? The poor gentleman. Maybe if it were anyone else, you'd take offense if they peeped, but him? If he gave you the chance to show him, you'd try to make all of his closeted fantasies come true too, no tips required.

You couldn't help but let your eyes wander. Zhongli had on a simple buttoned shirt and a pair of slacks. With that handsome face, tall frame, and lithe body, he was already blessed in looks, but now you wondered if he was well endowed down there too. How could you not?

"I…I don't mind that you saw me. It was my fault for forgetting to close the door. Tell me if there's anything I can do to make things more comfortable while you're here. I only stream three days a week and for about two hours a time, but I can always adjust that if you need me to be quiet while you work. If you want, I can give you my schedule." You rambled on, unaware of how your words seem to encourage him to be present for those times rather than avoid them.

Zhongli smiled appreciatively at your efforts to accommodate him. This was not the first time he had seen you frazzled. The more flustered you were, the more you talked. The thought conjured up another sinful image in his head. He imagined you trying to talk, blabbering incoherently in between moans as he fingered your dripping cunt. How adorable would you look, spread out underneath him as he teased you?

Your sweet moans and sighs were what had drawn him to your door, but the pretty flush of your skin and the tantalizing curves of your naked body was what had rooted him there, staring like some depraved creep. He was not proud of his lapse in self-control, but at that moment, he was no different from anyone in your audience.

You sounded so eager to please, working so hard to satisfy those needy viewers of yours, but at the same time so overcome with need yourself. He felt sorry for you, but he had to reign in his presumptions. If you didn't enjoy the attention, you wouldn't have been so engrossed that you failed to notice him at your door earlier. How lucky it must be to be one of your viewers, to be able to see you up front and center, to be addressed so affectionately while you pleasured yourself to their demands.

"I would love to know your schedule." Zhongli's voice was deep and velvety as always. There was a heavy tinge of suggestiveness though, his reply twisting your words into an invitation that he was simply responding to.

Your face burned as you blurted out your schedule. In your head, it certainly sounds like you were now making plans for him to join you next stream.

Zhongli made a mental note of the hours you mentioned. He had no business to attend to during those times, so he would undoubtedly be home. There was no need to deliberately leave his own house just to avoid your streaming schedule. He was not some unrestrained teenager who couldn't handle a bit of temptation. Perhaps with repeated exposure, the both of you would find some way of dealing with the blushing elephant in the room.

"How is work treating you lately?" He asked you, genuine care emanating from his voice.

"I'm surviving." You replied vaguely at first, but realized that he's probably asking because he thinks you're struggling to come up with rent. "They gave me a small raise when I got promoted so I don't need to rely on this side hustle as much."

"That's wonderful." He nodded, his guilt dissipating a bit at your words.

If he had known just how much financial strain you were in, he would've kept the rent the same as the previous year when you renewed the lease with him. He doubted your family and friends knew what you did to make ends meet. As your landlord, he was directly responsible for the additional sum that lead you to take on this extra work. Perhaps you learned to derive some form of joy from it, but if the demand for money were not there, would you have even considered it?

"I have a proposal for you, one that you may very well refuse if it toes your boundaries too much. This is simply something I'm offering as an addition to what you're already doing, a means to lessen your financial burdens if you will." Zhongli begins, stern eyes locking with your curious ones. He sounded so pragmatic, it was like he was ready to whip out a printed contract and have you sign it right then and there.

"Let's hear it."

Zhongli was not someone who relished in squeezing every last drop of interest out of others simply because he could. As high as prices were in this neighborhood, the room you rented from him was a steal for all the perks included. You smiled, trusting him to come up with something that made sense and benefited both parties simultaneously.

"Allow me to sit in while you stream and I will pay you a fixed sum which I can either issue to you as a bank deposit or deduct from your payment this month. I will not speak nor make demands of you. Neither will I touch you or interact with you in any physical capacity as that would disrupt your work. Merely treat me as if I am not there. I will refrain from making any inappropriate actions without your explicit consent, including touching myself. If it comes to that, I will leave the room so as to not affect you."

Your brow went up, mostly from shock but also from pleasant surprise. His proposal was almost too good to be true. Sure, it was a bit out of your comfort, having a living breathing spectator in the room while you cam, but something about that person being Zhongli specifically made your heart race. An image of him sitting in that armchair at the corner of your room that was just out of your camera's frame surfaced in your mind. If it were someone else proposing this, you'd shoot them down immediately.

Drawing in a deep breath to give the impression of hesitation, you held his gaze. Inside, you had already made up your mind. He was giving you a blatant chance to seduce him, clueless to the unholy thoughts he effortlessly plants into your head. It was your chance to show him what he had gotten himself into, reel him in with your well-practiced charm and charisma, or fail miserably and end up begging him to fuck you instead. Would it really be a loss? Dignity be damned, at least you'll have crossed one thing off your do-or-die-regretting list. He just didn't know it yet and you were determined to keep that mask on until it melts off your face from the heat.

"How much exactly and how long?"

"However much you usually charge for private sessions. Are they usually priced by bid?" He asked you, obviously unfamiliar with the unspoken rules of the trade. "As for the duration of this proposal, I will only be here for two weeks this time, so we can set it to that."

You nodded. "My price differs from stream to stream. Sometimes it's a few hundred and sometimes it's a few thousand depending on the length of the call. It's not really comparable since I'm not actively interacting with you."

"I see." He stroked his chin in thought. "How about this instead."

He quickly calculated the difference between your monthly rent before and after the lease renewal, rounded it up and presented it to you. Six sessions total, it would help you out immensely in the next few months he'd be gone and he receives a front row seat to an indulgent performance that all your viewers would probably kill for.

"That works…" You agreed, voice going soft like a whisper as you wrapped your head around the fact that he'd be watching you the next time you streamed. "The price is a bit higher than I expected. I can throw in another perk for you."

Zhongli chuckled, smiling at how considerate you were being with him. He wondered if this was how you treated all your viewers who tipped you. Seeing how hard you pushed yourself earlier, he hoped the earnings you made were at least proportional to the demands you received, or else he would be inclined to sponsor you himself and save you from all the trouble dealing with hordes of entitled men who didn't even bother to pay you well for bending over backwards. He could easily imagine what kinds of disrespect you must tolerate everytime you streamed, needy viewers ordering you around like they owned you just because they tipped, the thoughts tugged at his protective nature. It was silly, he knew. You weren't some damsel crying for his help, so it was unwarranted of him to feel the need to shield you from that imagined harm.

Perhaps it had been too long since he had last been in a relationship. Why he was feeling these sentiments towards you, his tenant of all people? He had always found you attractive, drawn in by your subtle charms rather than your physical looks, but now his mind could no longer hold off those more illicit forms of admiration. Was it simply just the sight of you streaming earlier? Things had changed in that instant, like the ringing strike of a hammer against a chisel, cracking the smooth surface of the rock. He could no longer go back. The wall that stood between the two of you had already crumbled.

"You're not going to ask what that perk is?"

"I'm sure it would be worthwhile." Zhongli smiled.

"How about I let you pick out what I'm going to wear on stream? Unless someone tips and overrides it, of course. I have to honor tip redemptions…" You thought aloud.

"I look forward to perusing your wardrobe when the time comes."

"It's settled then?" You asked.

He nodded, smiling fondly at you. "I'll leave you be now. There's still some unpacking to be done." He excused himself, dragging his suitcase into his room with him.

That suitcase had been sitting in the living room this whole time, as if reminding you that he would only be here for a while before disappearing from your life yet again. Perhaps that was why you should keep your distance from him, especially your heart. It was fine being attracted to Zhongli, but anything deeper would be emotional recklessness. You'd be no more than a fling if things got out of hand, even if he never struck you as a player. It was just the inevitability of his departure, like clockwork every time. You knew better, at least that's what you wanted to believe.

When the next stream day came around, you sat at your desk adjusting your mic and lighting. You even printed out a silly little sign to place on the armchair in the corner. It read 'VIP GUEST' in big bold letters. Soon enough, you heard a soft knock on your door. Your special viewer arrived. He had just gotten home from lunch with his client. You had to admit, Zhongli looked absolutely ravishable in formal wear. Your thoughts drained down a predictable gutter. How satisfying would it be to remove all those layers one by one? Would he start tugging them off if you managed to get him hot and bothered enough? Alas, you were the one stripping for the camera, not him.

Zhongli took a seat in the chair, an amused smile on his lips as he picked up the place card. You went off to gather your outfit candidates for the stream. As promised, this was his choice to make.

"This one, this one, or this one for the lingerie?" You asked, holding them up against your chest in succession. "I'll be honest, sometimes my choices are misses rather than hits. Maybe your taste aligns better with my chat's."

"Is that so?" His brow raised in surprise. "Let's go with this one today, but I can imagine you'd look lovely in all three."

"I want to try different styles, but I think the majority of my viewers prefer a consistent look. I can tell with the viewer count and tips."

"Hmm…" He leaned back and stroked his chin in contemplation. "Perhaps there's an element of successful branding working against you in this. Once consumers of a product come to expect a certain thing from you, it would be hard to branch out. Straying from what's already been established can certainly be met with repulsion."

"Well, if they don't appreciate your taste, I guess they're out of luck." You laughed, putting away the two sets that were passed up.

Even though Zhongli had technically seen you naked already, you didn't want to kill the suspense by stripping and changing into the lingerie right in front of him.

Every stream, you had to dangle yourself like a carrot in front of viewers, drag it out until the tips start pouring in. You had it down to an art, teasing and toying with their imagination, making them work just as hard for their own satisfaction as you did for their wallets. It was a twisted game you played with your admirers, because you were simultaneously the prey and the predator. You fed them exactly what they wanted, but they only wanted what they can't easily get. They wanted to toy with you, make you jump through hoops for them, roll over and beg for treats like a circus animal, but if you catered to their every whim, the magic is instantly lost. They enjoyed competing over you, having you fluster over their shows of dedication as they out-tip each other for your attention. Sometimes you felt like an inanimate bystander, as if you were a covetted painting at an auction. Other times, you were the knockoff purse laying on a dirty tarp at a flea market. It all depended on how much these disembodied usernames were willing to throw at you. Even as your numbers climbed and the algorithm pushed you in front of more and more viewers, you never forgot how awful it felt to be the latter. It reminded you every stream to not lose yourself to the illusion of being that painting. You could go from one to the other at the blink of a viewer's eye.

It was just for the money, you tell yourself. You had to do what you had to do to keep this roof over your own head. It worked out in your favor and you didn't have to pack your bags even after the market phased this place out of your budget.

For the longest time, you had nobody to rely on but yourself. You couldn't reach out and ask your parents for money. They were already struggling to make ends meet themselves and never once asked you for help. You couldn't ask your friends for money, because you hated to taint your relationships with such worldly troubles. They gave you all the emotional support you could ever ask for so you could have the strength to deal with these pesky problems.

When Zhongli asked you if you were in need of money, your knee-jerk response was to deny it, but the relationship between the two of you was transactional to begin with, so you accepted his proposal without much hesitation.

As you greeted your excited chat, you couldn't help but steal a glance at him. How did things evolve into this strange arrangement? It feels like an absurd fever dream. Blaring alarms and obnoxious carnival music went off in your head. Buried underneath all that commotion was your own heartbeat, racing with anticipation.

Were you a friend to Zhongli? You didn't know him well enough, at least you didn't think so. Was he just your landlord? Not quite, since he was also your roommate from time to time and he definitely cared more for you than the usual landlord does their tenant. Could you trust him? It probably wasn't wise to since you weren't in the sanest mindset. He could easily turn this situation into blackmail and demand things you didn't initially agree on from you. Wasn't that how it usually goes down?

Too much hinged on Zhongli's character and you weren't dumb enough to expect altruism from him. He was a businessman and money flows where there is plenty of shade. Opportunists would always try to turn a profit at every chance. Could you really expect him to be the sole exception?

What does he gain from this exactly? You get money from him, a very practical thing. He doesn't even get to talk to you during your live, something that you indulged your viewers in for the entire duration of the stream. If he were an exhibitionist, maybe whipping out his cock and having you react to it would stroke his ego, but he explicitly cut out all possibility of that.

Your chat was starting to get impatient. An entire hour had passed and that lingerie set that Zhongli picked had not yet made an appearance. The viewer count fluctuated, but it didn't faze you. Your tip bar was the true indicator of how thirsty your viewers were. Once they started trickling in, you knew it was time to start the actual stream. All of the friendly banter was just a lengthy intro.

"Truth or Bare? You guys are really nosy today, aren't you?" You read the redeem that had just popped up on the screen.

The questions started rolling in, each one attached to a tip. A timer went off and you read the highest tipper's question aloud.

"Am I a virgin?" You sighed. The amount of times you had gotten this question was exhausting. You had to fight the urge to roll your eyes and pull on a puppy dog face instead. "How many times do I have to tell you guys? That question will never be answered. Unless you already know that and just want me to take something off…"

Your hand reached up to tug at your hair tie. This was a popular strip game you played with your viewers. It doesn't end until you're completely naked, so you always prepared for it. Jewelry and hair accessories counted, but you tried not to be too overt with it. You would always get a flood of compliments when you let your hair down, so starting the stream with your hair up created a little something for your viewers to look forward to, an appetizer of sorts.

"Am I single?" You read the next highest bidder's question after the timer went off again.

It was one of your regulars, who obviously already knew the answer to that question.

"I know you're just trying to give me an easy pass, so thanks."

Someone brought up the voice that interrupted you last stream and consequently ended it. Apparently your chat were not goldfishes, to your detriment. Once one person bit, they were all biting, all wanting answers. You watched in horror as your chat became consumed with theories again.

"I'm not lying! He's not my sugar daddy either okay? I'm not into that."

You had to fight the urge to turn and look at Zhongli, who you knew could hear every word that comes out of your lips.

"No, for the last time, I don't have a boyfriend. If you're so curious, you can bid for the next question."

You quickly shut down the overflowing questions before they got out of hand. Your mods also began timing people out for being annoying. The game went on.

"Do I like being eaten out?" You scrunched your nose. "I want to say it depends on the person and if they're good at it, but would you really say no to a blowjob? Not everyone has a giant cock, but everyone can eat pussy well. They just need to be willing to learn. If they're willing to do it, I think I'll enjoy it. Now if they're confident about it…" You giggled at the thought. "That's hot."

Who were you kidding? Everyone apparently. You talked as if you've sampled peak oral before and had a wealth of experience to draw from. In reality, you probably had as much as the dude in your chat who asked that question. It was all about the bluff.

"Pain tolerance?" You read the next tip winner's question after the timer went off. "I'm a chicken. No pain, at all. I'll bite you if you make it hurt. I like the gentle ones."

You received a few questions here and there that you refused to answer, so after removing your necklace, earrings, and socks, you finally had to take off some actual clothes. Your chat was high as a kite and the viewer count shot up.

"What was my first guy like? As in boyfriend, or like the first guy that managed to get me naked?" You tapped your chin as if you were really going to answer the question.

It could just be another angle at the first question you started the game off with, but you wanted to get confirmation first since the asker tipped quite a lot to win the bid. A sigh left your chest when it turned out your suspicions were right.

"That's for me know and for you to keep wondering." You tried to be sweet about it, giving the camera a wink. "Since you were so generous with the tip, you can decide if you want me to take off my shirt or my shorts."

You got your answer, shorts. Getting up off the bed, you stood up to unbutton the denim shorts you had on, making sure everything was in frame. Slowly, you unzipped it, making a little twirl for the camera before taking it off. At the corner of your eyes, you caught Zhongli with a smile on his lips, jaw resting against his hand. His posture was relaxed, legs crossed elegantly as if he were admiring something much more demure. The way he was looking at you made you feel like a ballerina on stage as opposed to a streamer playing a stripping game with her chat.

The next question was an easy one, but the one after, you couldn't answer. You grabbed the bottom of your shirt and pulled it over your head, removing it in one fluid movement. Finally, you were in just your underwear.

Zhongli's eyes raked over your figure, smooth skin adorned in nothing but a few pieces of lacy fabric. The color suited you, contrasted nicely against your skin, just as he envisioned when you had him choose between the three sets. He could only see you from an angle, the best view reserved for your viewers. You couldn't even meet his eyes, but he enjoyed the discretion, being able to take you in as he pleased, watching you smile and laugh without sparing him a single glance.

You got up to grab something from your desk, finally rewarding his patience with a view that your entire chat had already been spoiled with. It was a fleeting glimpse, but it was enough to satiate that growing itch. You posessed an undeniably tantalizing figure, one that he never had the chance to properly admire until now. Watching that adorable, unassuming shell of yours stripped all the way down to lingerie like this was a delightful treat.

Last time, Zhongli had walked in on a stranger with your face and voice. This time, he saw your transformation. He could never have imagined you in this way before. Ever since two days ago, he could not get that racy image out of his mind. Those two conflicting versions of you overlapping in his mind did something to his body.

He was not the only one whose attention you commanded, cock straining against the fabric of his pants. Countless nameless, faceless strangers were also lusting after you, some he could imagine already desperately stroking themselves at the sight of your pretty tits encased in lace.

More questions came. You reached behind your back to unhook your bra. Zhongli drew in a breath. The lacy garment was discarded on your bed. Next went your panties, which you took your time removing. You climbed off the bed, getting up close to the camera so that it could capture what you needed it to. As requested by your chat, you did a spin, catching Zhongli's eyes as you turned your back to the screen. A flush rose in your cheeks as he drank in the view, caressing your luscious mounds from afar with nothing more than his smoldering gaze. His amber eyes seemed to melt you with their intensity as they glided down your body, settling on the remaining piece of fabric. No words were exchanged as agreed, but you didn't need them. Your fingers hooked underneath the waistband, sliding your panties over your hips.

You broke eye contact, turning to face the camera again, but then immediately bent over to pick up the lace garment dangling around your ankles. Zhongli shifted in his chair, fingers sinking into the plush armrest. His bulge was painfully visible now.

You had just presented your VIP guest with a gratuitous view of your unadorned ass, before all your other viewers. Were you feeling sorry for making him wait until last? He could tell it was intentional. His mind was instantly clouded by wanton thoughts of squeezing and groping those soft globes, perhaps adding a pink handprint or two to them even. Had you always been this cheeky?

At last, thoughts were only thoughts. He couldn't act on them. The tie around his neck was starting to feel tight, so he tugged it loose and unfastened the first two buttons. It helped, but only barely. This was all the relief he'd be getting while sitting in your room. Touching himself was strictly against the terms laid down.

You began playing with your tits, probably a request by your chat. Even from the side, he could see the way they almost spilled between your fingers as you kneaded them. Your lips parted to let out soft moans as you pinched and rolled your nipples between your fingers. The sweet sounds sent shivers down his spine. His cock twitched as you let out another moan, this time louder. One of your hands were now buried between your legs while the other continued massaging you breast. Zhongli couldn't see what you were doing, but he could imagine it. Your finger sunk between your pink folds, stroking your sensitive walls as your lips parted to let out those wispy moans. Your camera gave everyone in your stream an indulgent view of your pussy, getting wetter and messier everytime you pulled your slick-coated finger out. One finger was hardly enough, so you added another, fingertips curling and dragging along your sensitive walls. The moans drifting from your lips turned into soft whines, then whimpers. The expression on your face must be divine, if only he could see it. That was reserved for your stream.

He watched as you reached for the object you had grabbed from your desk earlier, a toy apparently. He couldn't tell what it was initially, because it didn't look like one at first glance. He had to admit, it was rather tastefully designed, discreet like you were. You pulled off the cap, holding the silicone tip flush against your dripping heat. You pressed the button and the vibrations started, immediately making you jolt with pleasure. Gently, you pushed it in.

Zhongli's clenched his fist, adverting his gaze. Your decadent moans still reached his ears, causing his breath to grow shallow. His jaw was taunt, muscles tensed. You sounded almost tortured, probably looked the part too. Your camera captured everything, but he could only imagine your pretty face, contorted with ecstasy as you chased your orgasm. His cock was so unbearably hard, the leaking tip dug into the seams of his dress pants.

You came undone, walls fluttering around the toy as your orgasm finally came and swept you away. Sweat coated your neck and your chest heaved, heart still racing as the ripples subsided. You laid there, back against your sheets and legs parted so that the camera could catch the mess you made of yourself. When your senses returned, you glanced over at the corner of the room where your armchair sat. It was now empty. You didn't even notice when Zhongli had gotten up and left the room.

After cleaning yourself up and winding down with your chat, you finally ended the stream. Everybody got what they showed up for, but at the same time nobody was satisfied. You managed to get yourself off, but what about Zhongli? If he was fine, he wouldn't have walked off before the stream ended. Did you really manage to make him lose his patience?

Zhongli had no doubt gone to take a shower. You could hear the water hitting the bathroom tiles from the hallway. You wondered what he thought about the arrangement now that he had a taste of it. What could be going through his mind right now? Would he still want to continue?

You didn't get to see the state he was in before he left. Did he leave because he got uncomfortable, or did he get that turned on? The possibility of it being the latter gave you an unexpected headache. This was technically his proposal. If he couldn't handle the very terms he came up with, he'd have to persuade you to loosen them up. While your rational side would shoot that thought down immediately, your impulsive side welcomed it too eagerly.

You liked this house a lot, but nobody could deny you had the hots for its owner too. If you sleep with him, chances were, you'd probably have to leave as soon as your lease ends. There's just no way you're getting into a relationship with your landlord, especially one that involves a lot of fucking around and not much of anything else. He'd be leaving in less than two weeks, leaving you scrambling to make sense of whatever loose ends he leaves in his wake. Repeat that every time he comes back and any sane person would become an emotional wreck. You wanted to fuck him badly, but it would literally ruin your life if you did. There's no way you'd let those intrusive thoughts be anything more than a self-indulgent joke.

When you joined Zhongli in the living room later that evening, the two of you pretended nothing ever happened. Nobody brought it up like the two of you had mutually decided to get amnesia about those two hours in your room today. You asked him if he was hungry. He offered to cook so you let him.

An amused smile crept into your lips as you rested your arms on the backrest of the couch, watching Zhongli chop and dice vegetables. This was pretty much your house, since he was only around a couple weeks in the year. The apron around his neck was yours, but you couldn't help but find it adorable on him too, in a mismatched way. This was not the first time he's cooked for you. You were already aware that he was a good cook when you first moved in. He had treated you to a homecooked meal, complete with soup and side dishes.

If your mom found out you know a handsome, single guy who cooks good food, she'd order you to seduce him and lock him down. If she knew he owned the house you lived in, she'd already be banging down your door. You couldn't possibly tell her.

Zhongli was the kind of gentleman old people always want to introduce their daughters and granddaughters to. Honestly, it could all just be a front. You can't exactly say you knew him well enough to vouch for him. All you really know about him was that he's unmarried, owns the house you live in, does business all over Liyue, is a good cook, loves reading, hates seafood, gets along with birds and little animals, and is very old-fashioned when it comes to certain things.

You only go into Zhongli's room once in a while to help him dust off his shelves when he's gone. As curious as you are about him, you respected him way too much to go snooping around. Likewise, he doesn't overstep boundaries and seemed to operate on a strict set of self-inflicted rules, on top of being away for most of the year, so you never really had to deal with the usual roommate drama that your coworkers always seem to be complaining about. Life was good, aside from the rising rent, but that wasn't really Zhongli's fault. Was it too much to wish for life to go on like this forever?

Once dinner was ready, you helped set the table and sat down opposite of him. It always felt more like a home when Zhongli was around. You ate alone most of the time, consuming mostly takeout on workdays whenever you didn't have the time nor energy to cook yourself a decent meal.

"This reminds me of my mom's bamboo shoot soup."

Zhongli chuckles. "Perhaps there's similarities in our recipes."

"It's not really the taste." You shook your head.

"I see. It must be nostalgia then."

"Yes! I swear, there's a taste to it." You beamed at him while enthusiastically helping yourself to the yummy stuff.

There's nothing quite like the satisfaction you feel when the person you're talking to puts what you're struggling to say into words.

"You should invite her to come visit you."

"She's too comfortable in Qingce Village. The big city isn't for her. She says all the honking cars give her a headache."

Besides, it wasn't like this was your house. You just rent a room in it. Where would she sleep and keep the mountain of stuff she'd most likely show up with? Better to pay her a visit when you get time off from work than have her visit you.

"A pity. It would be nice to meet her."

"Zhongli!" You almost spat out the mouthful of soup in your mouth. "You can't say things like that! I know you're good with the old ladies, but if my mom sees you, she'll think we're an item."

"Hmm…" He hummed, his expression unreadable. "You could just tell her the truth. Surely she can't be as unreasonable as you say."

"You don't know her like I do. I'm just protecting you." You said with a full chest.

He laughed heartily, his amusement infecting you and causing you to break out in laughter as well. Since you had just swallowed a spoonful of soup, it went down the wrong pipe. You coughed repeatedly while Zhongli got up to get you tissues and pat your back.

"There there. I should not have laughed." He said while patting your lips dry with a napkin. You tried to snatch it from him but failed.

"You know, I wouldn't get nostalgia from your cooking if you're just around more. It's been too long since I've had soup this good."

"Would you mind if I stayed?" Zhongli asked you.

Your brow went up as you glanced over at him.

"This is your house, Zhongli, not mines. Why are you asking me? You can stay for as long as you want." You said with a laugh, obviously not following his train of thought.

Zhongli's sighed, amber eyes studying your face. Were you really this oblivious or were you just pretending to not understand his intentions?

"Would you like for me to stay?"

You froze upon hearing Zhongli repeat the question. Something was off about the way he worded it this time. Why does it sound so… suggestive? Like something a one-night-stand would only ask if they were entertaining the possibility of becoming something more. You swallowed, face heating up all of a sudden. Were you overthinking? The last time you checked, you haven't slept with Zhongli yet. Why was he talking like the two of you have already crossed some invisible line?

"If I say yes, could you?" You asked cautiously.

"I can make it happen, if that's what you want." He replied, equally as carefully.

"Then stay."

As soon as you let those two words roll off your tongue, you held your breath. Your heart felt like it was going to burst with how hard and fast it was beating.

A glimmer of something faint in his eyes grew brighter the instant your words met his ear. It almost gave you the impression that he had been waiting to hear them.

"I will make arrangements to extend my stay here for another two weeks."

"Wait!" You quickly blurted before your head grew so big and light, it floats away. "You're really going to stay longer, just for me?"

You pinched yourself underneath the table. Nope, this wasn't you hallucinating or daydreaming. On the surface, you were all smiles, but inside, you were a nervous pile of knots.

He nodded, a reassuring smile on his lips. "My calendar is more flexible than you may think. Another two weeks will not disrupt my work."

Zhongli explained to you once that an operating partner was just a fancy title for a business consultant. He spends anywhere from weeks to a month in a single place, monitoring various companies he's contracted with. From what he just disclosed, apparently it was entirely up to him to decide how much time to allocate to each venture he oversees. Most of the correspondence, reports and whatnot, could be done without his physical presence. He did not even require an office, but a place to stay was still needed. The house you lived in served as one of his many footholds. You wondered if he had tenants renting his other properties. Did he treat them all to slow-cooked bamboo shoot soup, or were you the only one with that perk?

You were still reeling from the fact that Zhongli had just rearranged his entire schedule this month, all because you told him you wanted to see him around more often. Since when did you hold so much influence over him? Even if your viewers regularly shower you with attention, you never let their thirst get to your head. Likewise, you had always kept a conscious distance from your landlord, as irresistible as you found him.

Now that you think about it, Zhongli certainly seemed to be the one making any effort to bridge this deliberate gap you had put in place. He was always sharing interesting stories about the places he's been and bringing you little souvenirs. You've always found him to be odd in that regard. Most landlords wouldn't even bother to get to know their tenants, since the only thing that truly mattered was getting paid on time. Getting too acquainted opened up the possibility of exceptions to that, which Zhongli had already shown he did not mind when it comes to you. You had paid your rent late multiple times in the past. He never threatened to evict you nor did you receive any stern warnings from him. It's almost like it was an afterthought to him. Still, the transactional premise of your relationship always managed to hold a firm grip on you. Now, that grip was slipping and so was your rationality.

The next streaming day, Zhongli took his seat on your armchair while you set up your equipment. Like before, you let him pick your outfit. There was something so undeniably wrong with this whole situation, this debauched contract that you had somehow agreed to. So many alarms should be going off, but they were all muted.

This was something you would never have seen yourself agreeing to when you first signed that lease with him. It was bizarre beyond anything you had the audacity to imagine. This was someone whose belongings you wouldn't even dare peek into while he was away. This someone was now watching you shamelessly touch yourself in front of a camera.

You tried your best to ignore how Zhongli's mere presence in the room affected you. Even if he didn't say a word, you couldn't help the tingle that ghosts over your skin everytime you catch his gaze. Did he find the sight of you in the bra and panties he chose arousing? When your hands glide over your skin, carressing your body, does he wish they were his instead?

Like the last time, you see him get up and leave. He doesn't make eye contact and you try to act natural in front of the camera even though your mind was no longer in the room with your chat. Slick dripped down your thigh, mixing with the lubricant you had coated your toy with. You bit your lip, riding the pitiful thing, whimpers and sealed moans captured by your microphone.

This time, you managed to catch a glimpse of Zhongli as he stood up. You got an answer to that burning question that had been eating you up inside since the last stream. The tent in his pants ruined his facade. It told you everything you had been dying to know.

You ended the live shortly, mind filled to the brim with Zhongli. So this attraction you've always felt was not unique to you anymore. Do you pretend you don't know how hard you could make him, ignore how badly he wants to fuck you after seeing you touch yourself?

Unlike the last two streams, there was no sound of water coming from his room. You imagined Zhongli barely making it to the privacy of his own room without yanking his belt off. What if he couldn't hold himself back, instead giving into the impulse? You envisioned him palming himself desperately to the thought of you, thighs clenching at the self-indulgent images clouding your mind.

"Zhongli?" Your voice drifted through the gap, barely above a whisper.

Despite your better judgement, you pushed the door open some more. It was dimmed inside so you couldn't make out where Zhongli was.

Had he been in so much of a hurry, he forgot to close it, or did he leave his door open like this on purpose? Suddenly, the door flung open all the way. Your eyes shot upward, meeting Zhongli's as he came to the door.

"You ought to get some rest, dear. What are you doing here instead?" He asked you, amusement threading his voice.

"You left before I finished streaming, so I just…"

Like he asked, just what exactly are you doing here? Were you here to confront him about that raging hard-on you saw him leave your room with? Your gaze discreetly fell to his crouch. It seemed he had yet to resolve his dilemma.

The indecent thoughts running amok inside your head made for a very curious expression. His eyes swept over your face, then down your body. Upon ending the stream, you had put all your clothes back on, but under Zhongli's smoldering gaze, it was like he had you undressed again with a mere glance.

"My apologies for the sudden exit. Was there something you needed from me?" He smiled at you harmlessly, but the effects were anything but. Either he really didn't notice the blush on your face or he was pretending.

"That's what I came here to ask." You deflected, growing increasingly frustrated with his unyielding demeanor. Even with an obvious tent in his pants, this man wasn't making a single move on you. "Are you sure you want to keep playing the gentleman?"

"Ah, so you do see the affect you have on me." He chuckled.

"I'd be blind if I didn't."

"Ignorance can often be a blissful disposition. At least for you, I believe it to be so."

"Sit down." You ordered him in a tone far too intimate than what you ought to sound like with him. "I'll help you get it down."

"I assure you, there's no need to do any favors for me that are not included in our agreement." He immediately turned down your scandalous offer, a rare tremble in his voice.

"Was cooking for me and bringing me gifts part of our lease?" I asked as I took a step forward, forcing Zhongli to take a step back.

If he continued, you'd have him sitting at the edge of his bed anyways, so you just kept walking, unhurried and intentional. His body was not rejecting your offer the way his lips were. Dealing with a well-intentioned hypocrite like Zhongli, you just had to give him what he wanted and his front would crumble under the weight of his own contradicting desire.

"Ever since you saw me the first time, you've wanted me, haven't you?" You began your lewd accusations, raising your hand to his chest to prod him with a haughty finger. "You couldn't resist making that proposal, knowing exactly how inappropriate it'd be. Now look at yourself. You can barely keep it together. Sit before I change my mind and leave you high and dry."

"Hmm." He hummed, not sounding at all offended. "It seems you have me all figured out already."

Something glinted in Zhongli's eyes before he wrapped his hands around your wrist, gently tugging you into his lap as he sat down at the edge of his bed. This was what you demanded. Except why did it feel like the roles had suddenly reversed? The moment he admitted you were right and he was entirely at your mercy, Zhongli had successfully coaxed you into a false sense of control, an illusion of power.

You sucked in a sharp breath as his hardened length slotted between your legs. The fabric of his pants did little to mask the swollen girth of his cock and neither was it enough to keep the wetness clinging to your heat from seeping through.

"May I remove your clothes?" He asked, still hesitant to discard his manners. You appreciated this immensely, found it unbelievably hot. Or probably it was just him. Everything he did and said seemed to effortlessly turn you on.

His hands reached out to lift your shirt from your body as soon as you gave him permission. Then it was your skirt. You climbed off his lap to allow him to undress you. Soon, you were in nothing but the set of lingerie he had picked before your stream. His eyes raked over you form unabashed, silently marveling at how well the material and color complimented you.

"You like it, don't you? Dressing me up and stripping me down like your personal plaything…" You whispered into Zhongli's ear as you lowered yourself back into his lap. "They have no idea that you're in the room, sitting there just outside of the camera. Neither will they ever know what we're doing right now, after the stream. They can only see, but you…" You smirked at him. "I'll let you touch me if you promise to be good."

"How unfair of you. Though I'm not complaining since I do enjoy watching you pleasure yourself. What better than to inflict such sensations on you myself?" He mused, hands unapologetically gliding over your soft skin, which he had previously been unable to touch. It was as silky as the imagined it to be. He drew in a breath, taking note of your every minute reaction to his touch.

How long had he been yearning for this? He couldn't even recall anymore. Perhaps it was a good thing, being away so often. He would've been that much more tormented by your enticing presence had he been around as often as you would've liked. How he managed to keep his hands off you this entire time and his gentlemanly impression intact, he couldn't fathom, but he was glad you were finally ready to accept the possibility that he might want more from you than your monthly rent.

There was also so much more he wanted to give you, but he never found a suitable excuse, nor possessed the appropriate role to approach you in that manner. The last thing he would want was to scare you and have you scurrying off like a spooked mouse. Zhongli was your landlord afterall. By default, you had so little power. He wanted desperately to even out this imbalance, but as long as this dynamic existed, he was powerless to change anything. That was the reality of your relationship with him, until that day he came home to find you camming.

That catalytic moment had altered something within him, along with his perception of you. He suddenly found himself spiraling. The proposal, though not entirely thought out at the time he offered it to you, was a desperate attempt to ground himself again amidst the bizarre circumstances. Just when he thought he was regaining his bearings, you come into his room to offer an even more preposterous proposal, sending him on yet another unpredictable tangent. Perhaps that was what you've always been to him, an agent of chaos, but he could only welcome it, along with everything you came with.

"Zhongli…" You called out his name breathlessly. "I know you like seeing me in these, since you picked them out, but don't you—"

"Shh.. " He silenced you. "You're much too impatient, dear. If I can wait this long for you to come to me, I can spare a couple minutes to admire you in such tasteful lingerie."

You blushed at his words, failing to catch the veiled confession he slipped in due to the pink fog clouding your mind. He let out a sigh as his lips feathered along your shoulder, igniting goosebumps in his wake. Finally his fingers reached behind your back for the clasp of your bra, unhooking it. You drew in an anxious breath, knowing where his hands were going to venture next.

His fingers splayed over your breast, cupping it gently in his large hand. Soft moans drifted from your lips as he proceeded to knead it, squeezing the supple flesh between his fingers and playing with the sensitive peak.

"Can I kiss you?" You asked him, arms draping over his shoulders.

Zhongli chuckled. "I thought you didn't want to."

"You think too much." You scrunched your nose playfully, pulling him in to press your lips against his.

You couldn't blame him for assuming though. If you wanted to kiss, it would've happened before he ever asked to take off your clothes and it'd have to be initiated by you, according to his exasperating list of unspoken rules. A kiss was something he had not yet been given access to, so you'd have to lead him to it. This was something you'd gradually realize as the two of you become increasingly entangled with each other. It was not a subconscious habit, but a deliberate one. He was a patient man, you've always known this. It's just sometimes, that patience can get a little inconvenient for you.

"I don't get it." You pulled away from his lips to catch your breath.

"What is it, dear?" He asked you calmly.

It wasn't that you were unsatisfied with the kiss. You just couldn't understand why Zhongli was taking his time like this when you were mentally prepared to take all the shortcuts the moment you made the offer to get him off.

"How are you so hard, but kissing me like you can wait another hour? Don't you want to fuck me?"

He smiled, reaching up to stroke your cheek. "Well, you're already in my lap. There's no need for urgency since we both have no reservations this evening. I do in fact have an hour to spare."

"If you want to hold it in, then hold it in. As long as you don't burst before I get a chance to put it in, I won't punish you." You teased him.

He swallowed thickly. "That I can promise."

You went in for another kiss, tongue pressing against his lips for entry. Zhongli gave it, enthusiastically meeting your demand for more. He welcomed your pillage, your curiosity, and all your audacity. It was an immeasurable delight, experiencing just how much you wanted him. You weren't putting on a performance nor trying to appease an audience to earn a living.

"I can't take it anymore." You tore away from the kiss again, panting from how turned on you were.

Zhongli's smoldering gaze followed your hands as you frantically unbuckled his belt and unfastened his dress pants. He didn't seem fazed by how rough you were being with the expensive material. Anticipation brimmed in his eyes as well. You finally pulled down his pants, freeing his erection. It sprung upright, tall and rigid. The daunting size of it instantly sobered your lust-ridden mind.

You swallowed at the sight as you wrapped your mind around his girth, wondering how it was going to even fit. The sight made you involuntarily clench your legs. Now that the fabric was out of his way, every drop of slick seeping out of your eager cunt landed directly on his shaft.

Were you really going to fuck Zhongli? No matter how unreal it feels, you could never really help the way your body reacts to him. Even while streaming to hundreds of thirsty strangers, you didn't feel like half the slut the sight of Zhongli's cock had you reduced to. If he told you to get on your knees right now and suck him off, you'd do it without a second thought.

You heard Zhongli's shuttered intake as you wrapped your hands around him. A feverish tint was beginning to take hold on his face and a haze fell over his eyes as you began to stroke him, your movements slow and unsure. He let out a soft groan, hand enveloping yours in encouragement as he moved your hands at a faster pace. His hands also caused you to place more pressure in your grip. You bit your lip in concentration, focusing on making him feel good. His cock throbbed under your sweet torment and his breath grew heavy. Beads of precum slid down from his tip.

"Need me to touch you?" He breathed, voice gravelly with arousal.

"Please…" You answered breathlessly.

It must be obvious how needy you were getting, with your soaked pussy rubbing against his thigh. The moment Zhongli's hand cupped your drenched entrance, you shuttered. His fingertips traced your slit, barely sinking in between the soft folds. You whimpered softly, grinding yourself against his hand. As deep chuckle caressed your ear as he finally plunged a finger into your cunt. Your slippery walls immediately clenched around it as he pumped in and out of your eager hole. He added a second finger, scissoring them inside the narrow space, stretching you in preparation for his cock.

"I think I'm ready." You panted against his neck. "Can I put it inside?"

"Be my guest, sweetheart." He replied, withdrawing his slick-coated fingers.

You lifted yourself up on your knees. Zhongli’s hands rested on your waist to help you align yourself with his tip. The second your warmth enveloped the head of his cock, he let out shuttered gasp. It felt way too good, the way your tight heat immediately clenched around him, drawing him in like a fever dream. Indeed, having you in his lap like this, taking his cock inch by greedy inch, it certainly resembles a dream he was guilty of having from time to time. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, as if afraid you'd suddenly run off and end it all too soon.

Zhongli thrusted upwards, his patience finally crumbling as he buried himself to the hilt inside your fluttering walls. You had never felt so full, so satisfied. Those toys you played with during stream? How were you ever going to get off on them after having a taste of this? It was no longer just your imagination, but the memory. The pleasure Zhongli was giving you was something you could see yourself coming back time and time again for, like some depraved cock addict. He fucked you so well, your mind was turning into mush. You didn't even register when he had flipped you underneath him or when the rest of his clothes disappeared. He pressed your knees against your sides, pausing only momentarily to admire your blissed out expression and your hair splayed messily over his silk sheets.

Soft squelching filled the air, intermingling with your gasps and moans and Zhongli's occasional grunt. The way his thick girth dragged against your stretched and sensitive walls was downright unfair. His tip grazed your cervix as he bottomed out, hitting all those places that made your toes curl in one smooth stroke.

"Enjoying it so far?" He asked you as he drove into your slippery hole.

Over and over, he rammed himself into you, tearing a needy moan from your lips each time he pulled away. You could barely catch a breath, much less answer him in any degree of coherence.

"Zhongli… Zhongli…" Was all you could say.

At least you knew who was fucking you so good. Zhongli groaned as you neared your limit. The way you trembled in his grasp, your lips latching onto his in desperation as your nails dug into his skin, it was all too sweet. The feeling of being inside you like this, holding you so closely and hearing your unbroken moans of pleasure, it was worth all the wait in the world.

You couldn't tell who caved first. Maybe it'll happened at the same exact time. Zhongli barely managed to pull out last minute, his thick cum splattering all over your stomach and thighs. It was a filthy mess, but you were too lightheaded to care. Your body still tingled from the intensity of the sensations that had coursed through it moments ago. Zhongli panted, focus gradually returning to his eyes. The first thing he saw was your beautifully flushed face. He reached down to stroke your cheek, earning him a silly grin from you.

"That…" You drew in a breath. "That was insane…"

"Are you alright?" He asked you.

The concern in Zhongli's voice was like a drop of warm honey dissolving amidst a swirling mass of emotions. You were only now coming down from the high.

"Better than ever." You replied, still breathless. Your eyes dropped to his spent cock. A smug grin overtook the dazed expression on your face. "I did good, didn't I?"

"You were amazing, dear." He whispered after pressing a kiss to your forehead, a tender gesture that caught you off guard. Were you and Zhongli this close now?

"So what happens now?" You murmured against Zhongli's chest as he settled beside you. "You pretty much just ruined it for me."

"Have I?" He raised a brow. "You were the one who came to my door to solicit your help. How exactly have I made matters worse for you?"

You smiled, satisfied with his reaction. Zhongli was more amused than offended by your accusation, an indication that he was not someone who immediately withdraws at the first sign of complications.

"I still have to stream, you know." You reminded him.

"And I still have plenty of work to do, but now I have this utterly enticing distraction to fend off my mind. I'd say the ruin goes both ways." He chuckled as he twirled your hair between his fingers. "Wouldn't you agree?"

You nodded. "So how do you propose we go about this?"

"Well, for one…" Zhongli let go of the strand, tucking it behind your ear. "I am rather fond of you. Would you be adverse to being with me in a more exclusive capacity?"

"Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?" You squinted at his oddly worded question.

Zhongli had always been a precise person. In certain instances however, he also becomes overbearingly formal. The more uneasy he feels, the longer his sentences. You couldn't hear it in his voice, but if he wanted to get a certain answer from you, he would ask it in a way that would make it unreasonable for you to answer in any other way.

"I was hoping to ask you that before I leave three and a half weeks from now." He chuckled, relieved that this discussion was happening much sooner than anticipated. "But if you have an answer now, I will take it."

"I think I need some time to think about it. You should too, Zhongli." You paused to draw a deep breath. "I don't want to be with someone that I'm only going to see once every few months. If this doesn't work out…"

"If things do not work out, nothing between us needs to change. I will not force you to be with me if you do not wish to be." He replied. "Matters of the heart cannot be dealt with by deliberation. If you do not like me, you can tell me. I will not hold it against you."

"I do like you though!" You corrected him, earning yourself an amused chuckle. "You're good-looking, polite, caring, plus you make really good soup. What's there not to like?"

"I suppose I have a fair chance then."

There was nothing fair about Zhongli. From the moment you met him, he already checked off all the boxes needed to sweep you off your feet. Everything afterwards only served to make sure you'd never be able to keep your eyes off him. Now, after you've had a bite of him, you wouldn't be able to keep your lips or hands off him either.

"Ngh…Zhongli!" You cried out his name in a pitiful sound between a whine and a sob.

Every evening after a stream, this would predictably happen. You'd find yourself at Zhongli's door or he'd be at yours. Usually you'd be the one impatiently throwing yourself at him simply due to his patience surpassing yours, but he'd understand your urgency nonetheless. It was impossible for him to not get riled up watching you cam. Something about your eyes not being on him while you pleasured yourself gets him really on edge, like a tiny piece of gravel grating against his sole. Only when you're wrapped seamlessly around his cock did this irritation go away.

You took him so well, your wet haven so warm and tight, he was slowly losing it, loathed to imagine leaving you all by yourself once he had to go. With the way you begged, driven delirious by your own toys, who would you go to once his door was locked? He hated to imagine you seeking relief in any other way that didn't involve his cock repeatedly pounding into your needy cunt. Who else could fill you so perfectly, make you unravel so completely?

This was Zhongli's last day in town before he leaves for his contract in another city. After mulling over it all night, you canceled your stream, something you rarely did. You sent out the notice without any hesitation. There would alway be a next stream, but everyday with Zhongli was precious. When he finally found out he had you all to himself, he insisted on taking you out to a nice restaurant and even got you a bouquet of qingxins, maybe as a reminder for you to not overthink. How could you not though? His question from two weeks ago still lingered in the back of your mind.

You had enjoyed every aspect of Zhongli's company, despite how short his stay was. You could tell he was not holding anything back from you. No matter how he conveyed it, whether through his meals or in bed, his care and attentiveness covered you like a thick blanket. Even if you knew he was about to board a plane and disappear from your sight for months on end, your heart was still grounded, as if it had taken root.

"I will miss you dearly." He sighed as you bid him goodbye that evening at the airport.

"Well, if you can't stand the loneliness, I don't mind taking a quick vacation." You joked. "I have a lot of PTO saved up so I might as well use it."

"You still haven't given me an answer." He brought up the question that had been eating at your brain ever since he asked it.

"Zhongli…"

He stood there quietly, waiting for your reply.

All the people around you faded into a blur. You could almost hear the beat of your heart quicken ever so slightly. Looking up into Zhongli's gorgeous amber eyes, you wondered how you ever managed to resist him for so long.

"Do you think I can still say no?" A faint but hopeful smile spread over your lips. "Just don't break my heart. I don't want to be wrong about you."

A relieved smile took hold on Zhongli's face as your words reached his ears. You've never seen him smile so unrestrained before and it melted you into a puddle of shared joy.

"I would never wish to. How could I bear to break something I've been waiting to cherish for so long?"

You furrowed your brows. "What do you mean for so long? Don't tell me you've been crushing on me this whole time."

He chuckled, gathering you into a tight parting hug. "I won't refute that."

"You're such a loser. Couldn't you tell I liked you?"

"It was not apparent to me. I would hate to assume incorrectly and make things uncomfortable between us."

"Fine. I should've made a move sooner." You replied with a heavy dash of sarcasm. "Or dropped more obvious hints."

"Indeed you should've." He had the galls to agree!

"Are we really going to debate this right now? Right here? If you don't get on that plane, you're going to be stuck here with me."

"Is that not what you'd want?"

"No, go away. I can only take so much of you."

"You take me just fine, if I dare say."

"Zhongli!" You fumed, blushing at the reminder.

The shameless man laughs heartily at your expense. Lord help you. Even when he's teasing you, your heart flutters.

Finally he rushes off to the gates. As soon as he turns his back, a sigh leaves your chest. This time was harder than all the previous times you've said goodbye to him. You were no longer the same person you were four weeks ago. Your crush on Zhongli was no longer just a crush.

A fond smile graced your lips at the thought of the man who had just departed. He left you with a warm and safe feeling, nothing at all like what you imagined you'd face everytime you convinced yourself to not let him into your heart. It was about time. Not like you could casually hand it to someone else with his name etched all over it. It was in good hands now, you assured yourself.

"Do take care of yourself and try not to eat too much take-out. Send me photos so I can see that you are eating well. Nevertheless, don't miss me too much, darling."

You scrunched your nose at the text message Zhongli sent just as you got into your car.

"Are you my dad or my boyfriend?" You texted back. A silly grin was plastered on your face the entire ride back.

Sure, he was a bit old-fashioned and treated you like a rebellious teenager despite your age, but you liked the thought of constantly being on Zhongli's mind. As long as the person was right, what bad could a bit of distance and time apart do? If anything, it'd make you yearn for each other a little more intensely.

Maybe you'd even consider sending him the link to your streams.

----

I swear these oneshots are getting longer and longer. I don't know how I keep typing up so much context for kink prompts. Anyways, this one was inspired by fanart of Zhongli sitting in an armchair. Mainly this and this. You have these two artists to thank for the brainworms that infected me and forced me to write this longass smut!

#zhongli x reader #zhongli fanfic #zhongli smut #zhongli x you #mdni #minors do not interact #mdni 18+#kinktober 2024

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koinotame · 1 year ago

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how dangerous the twst cast is as yanderes

content warnings: this is yandere stuff so plenty of relationships and mindsets of questionable healthiness. reader implied to be yuu. mentions of murder and violence (nothing explicit/graphic, but frequent. mostly not aimed at reader). most are pretty ambiguous wrt being romantic or platonic (though it’s assumed they have an at least somewhat close relationship with you). i don’t think there’s any explicit spoilers but this was written with mostly-up-to-date knowledge so maybe beware if you really want to avoid any spoilers

whole main cast is included, under the cut for length (near 4k words)! if you read ortho's section as incestuous or romantic in any other way i will shoot a laser beam at you.

fairly harmless overall ▸ i actually normally wouldn't put them together, but in either case i can't see either of the adeuce duo being too dangerous to others. yeah, they might beat someone up for getting too close to you or hurting you, but i really really can't see either of them going much farther. deuce in particular used to be a delinquent, and he does sometimes slip back into that mindset, and he does know how to beat someone up well… but he's a good boy now. your good boy. even in his delinquent phase he would've never actually killed someone, and the idea horrifies him a little too much to ever seriously consider. ace has a bit less restraint, but also a lot less experience. what he lacks in experience he does more than make up for in wit and quick learning, but… while the thought does cross his mind occasionally, he wouldn't be able to stomach actually killing someone either. he'll beat someone up if they hurt you or you ask him to though. unlike deuce, he'll probably brag about it to you if he knows your reaction would be positive.

▸ don’t you worry! your cay-kun would never kill someone! in fact, cater is very unlikely to get violent at all. when he gets jealous (which happens pretty often), he turns that bitterness inside. what do they have that he doesn’t? do you like quieter guys? is he too obsessed with magicam? do you not like the way he doesn’t let you in unless you push, because he’s too afraid you won’t like what you find and leave? is he not affectionate enough? do you not like his hair? it doesn’t matter what it is about him that you don’t like, about others that you do like. he’ll fix the problem; he’ll fix himself. he’s already used to putting on acts around others—this isn’t that different. even if it’s not him you like at this point, as long as he can stay by your side, it’ll be fine. there’s a desperate edge to his actions that’s hard to spot, but once you have is impossible to unsee. as long as you continue liking him, he’ll throw away who he is—just. don’t throw him aside once you’re bored of him, okay? keep him around forever. please. ▸ jack is another that’s fairly harmless. it’s in his nature to be overprotective, and he doesn’t see much wrong with that, but he has no issue with your friends and he’s pretty reasonable at telling apart actual threats from things like jokes. he’s much like your guard dog… or maybe he’s more like guard puppy, with the way you doubt he’d ever actually hurt anyone despite his big stature. he’s embarrassed when you tell him this, but the wagging of his tail gives away just how much he likes knowing you’re okay with—even like—his constant presence. he’s not… completely against going behind your back when someone is actually about to hurt you to deal with he issue, though. just… just occasionally, when it’s really necessary. he won’t make a habit of it. he just… doesn’t want you to see him like that. he’d never want to scare you. that’s all.

a bit less harmless but not by (too) much ▸ riddle is good and well behaved and refuses to resort to something as drastic as violence or murder, or at least he’s trying very hard to convince himself so. he’s definitely somewhat tyrannical to everyone around you even after he mellows out after his overblot, and he has no hesitation in punishing those who hurt or displease you, especially his own dormmates. even once both of you graduate, this habit of his never quite vanishes. he gets a little frantic if you show disapproval of his actions though, especially if you seem scared of him. he’s desperate to prove that he’s good and loves you and would never hurt you, and if that means toning down his ardour, he’ll try his best. the stress of possibly losing you just makes him all the more overbearing to everyone around him. he’s trying his best for you though, so… don’t you love him as much as he loves you? won’t you turns your eyes back to him and only him? ▸ kalim would never kill someone! nor would he have someone be killed. but his family's wealth and influence extends far, and anyone seeking to hurt you (or him through you) would be a fool to think otherwise. he'd never kill someone, but making sure they end up rotting in prison for the rest of their life is just doing the right thing! he might be a little blinded by his panic, sure, but— they tried to hurt you! if he's really jealous (something that doesn't happen often—he only has eyes for you, after all, so he tends to not think too much about others), it's not hard to just have them transfer. or be fired. or something. he won't tell you outright, but if you ask he sees no point in hiding it from you. if you don't react well, he gets a little frantic and insists that he really really really wouldn't ever go farther than that…! probably. ▸ epel getting into yet another fistfight for you is something you’ve grown unfortunately used to. you’re frankly convinced he outright wants you to see at this point, maybe in some misconceived idea it’ll make you think he’s tough, with the way he runs up to you like a puppy expecting praise afterwards. he’ll be torn if you fuss over him afterwards—on one hand, he wants you to think he’s tough and your coddling doesn’t really give the impression that you understand that, but it feels really, really nice when your attention is focused on only him. but as unrestrained as epel is, he’s not particularly dangerous. if you seem really put off by his actions, he might even rein it in a little (vil is glad for your cooperation, even if that wasn’t your intention). he’s more preoccupied with earning your attention and approval than he is with stuff like keeping other suitors away from you. ▸ i just think it’d be really funny if despite everything about him, rook is one of the most harmless. he’s the type of yandere to have a shrine (it’s not in his closet because he has no shame) and have his room covered in notes about you but who’d never actually kill someone. he’s also… the type who enjoys and loves everything about you. to rook, the journey is more important than the destination, and that includes you. the you on your own, the you around your friends (not that they’ll stick around too much once they notice rook), and the you around him are all different and equally worth loving. he’s not exactly shy about his stalking either, but once you get used to his constant presence, it doesn’t really get worse. maybe a little more intense, but not worse. he’s fine with pretty much any way you want to treat him, too—whether you treat him like a beloved pet or a plaything or act like you don’t know or notice him, he’ll love you all the same. forever.

holds themselves back… but not because of ethics ▸ when trey thinks about the future he wants with you, he allows himself to imagine what it would be like to be so wholly engrossed in each other that everything else might as well not exist. unfortunately, the two of you live in real life and not in a fairy tale, so he’s settled for the idea of eventually settling down and growing old with you. it’s… not entirely ethics that holds him back. he’s aware that most of the urges he gets when he sees you around others or when he sees you get hurt in someway are immoral, and he reigns himself in. aside from some people in your life suddenly finding it odd how the ever dependable senior suddenly doesn’t seem to like them much and has been giving them the cold shoulder, most people are very unlikely to realise there’s anything off about trey… including you. just let him be your normal (if fairly fussy) boyfriend, okay? and if he occasionally slips a bit of a sleeping potion into your food and masks the taste with his unique magic so you end up staying the night just so he can spend a little more time with you… that can be his little secret. ▸ it's definitely not ethics that holds ruggie back, but it would be a serious problem if he gets caught killing someone. or even just gets particularly violent with someone else. he'd do it in a heartbeat, especially for you (especially if you asked him), don't get him wrong, but, well— if he goes to jail, he's fucking his family over. if he goes to jail, he won't be able to provide for you in the future—or have any sort of relationship with you. his resolve might waver if you were to actually ask, but even then he’s determined to stick to actions he can reasonably get away with. it's not uncommon for him to use laugh with me to embarrass any guys he thinks are getting too close to you though, and it's not too hard to be discreet with his unique magic when someone really deserves to fall face down a flight of stairs. or three. oopsie. odd they don't remember it, huh? well, he had nothing to do with that. ▸ jamil is a bit more restrained. murder is fine (it’s definitely not his first resort, but it’s there as an option if he really needs it—he did kind of try to kill five people, even if it was during his overblot), but using snake whisper is just so much more convenient… most of the time. due to his position as a servant of kalim, he has to carefully consider any actions he takes unless he wants there to be dire consequences for his family. unfortunately for him, this means he can’t just beat up anyone getting too close to you no matter how much he may feel like it. his unique magic does work well for him here though—and he’s not opposed to using more force if there’s a good reason (like impressing you and getting complimented by y—ehem. making sure your bullies won’t bother you again). the one person he’d rather not use his unique magic on is you. what he likes so much about you is that you’re choosing him of your own volition, and that’s worth more than any force could get him.

not the worst, but… ▸ azul tries really, really hard to keep everything he does behind your back, well. behind your back. he doesn't usually get his own hands dirty, but it would be a serious problem if you found out about the students he's been tricking into unfair contracts just because he got jealous. and it'd be one thing if it ended there, but more than that… if anyone hurts you, the tweels haven't amassed a certain reputation for nothing. if azul’s this fond of you, there’s a very high chance they’re familiar with you as well—and even if they weren’t, azul being jealous enough to send them after people that aren’t even remotely threatening your relationship is amusing enough for them to comply. he won’t go too far though, no matter how envious he may get. ruining someone’s reputation, having the twins beat them up or tricking them into unfair deals is one thing, but even someone like azul wouldn’t resort to cold-blooded murder. ▸ remember when vil, pretty lucid, tried to poison neige? yeah. with his unique magic and social standing, it would be really easy to get rid of anyone causing you issues. of course, with you being aware of his unique magic, he’d have to be careful to make sure you don’t realise, so it’s something he’d reserve for only actual emergencies. it’s also a lot easier to abuse his influence and fame to keep others away from you, whether it’s by threatening them himself or getting others to do his dirty work for him. when it comes to you and keeping your attention on him, he finds it much more rewarding to keep working on himself to meet your standards and doting on you even much than he already does. keep your eyes on him and only on him, won’t you? he’ll make it worth your while. ▸ idia, as a yandere, is incredibly desperate. he’s already perfectly content (well, not perfectly, but content enough) to just watch you through his screen and maybe chat with you online (with your anonymous pal who you definitely don’t know irl, of course), so if he gets lucky enough to be with you for real, there’s very little he won’t be willing to do to ensure it stays that way. in practice this means trying to appeal to you more than anything else; if you seem even the slightest bit unhappy with him, he’s desperately trying to fix it immediately. do you think he’s too offputting? he’ll cover his mouth and hair and— are you mad because he tried to convince you to ditch your friends and just stay with him again? he’s sorry! he doesn’t have an excuse, he’s just scared that you’ll realise you could do so much better and don’t like him that much after all. sometimes he thinks about how he definitely has the resources for more forceful and permanent measures, but then you smile at him, or tell him his smile is pretty, or run your fingers through his hair, or laugh at a comment he made and his mind goes blank and gives him a 404 error. there’s no way he could ever give that up just for some measly certainty… though the same can’t be said for those who he gets too jealous of or those who hurt you. not that you need to know that.

not needlessly violent ▸ sebek is… very enthusiastic about the things he dedicates himself to. this includes you. if you thought his devotion to malleus was excessive, it’s even worse when it comes to you. while he has no personal issues with fighting if it means protecting you (whether that protecting includes only actual threats is debatable), he takes pride in his position as malleus’ retainer. this means that no matter how he feels, he has to consider how his actions would make briar valley and his lord look. he also doesn’t really get jealous. instead (and this is almost worse), he has his own idea of how everyone else should treat you and he does get aggressive with others if he doesn’t think they’re treating you right. you deserve a heavy amount of respect and he finds it very aggravating when others don’t give you that (see: treat you like a regular person). he’s not subtle either—if anything, going behind your back on this would go against his values. he wants to be useful to you!!! he wants you to know how much he cares and how you’re superior and the one with all the power in this relationship!!! the good thing is he listens to everything to ask of him, no matter how ridiculous he finds you insisting you prefer being treated casually by your friends and peers. ▸ silver, while less outwardly enthusiastic, is no less devoted. he doesn’t really get jealous (there’s a dull ache in his chest when he sees you with others and thinks about the possibility of someone being more important to you than you are to him, but that’s not jealousy, right?), and he’s fairly realistic about what counts as a threat to you and what doesn’t. the problem is that as soon as something crosses that threshold, he’s drawing his wand (or baton. or sword. he’s trained and prepared with all three). it’s almost scarier than if he were enjoying it, because you have absolutely no clue how far he’s willing to go for your safety—or if he even has any limits when it comes to you. he has a rather twisted view on relationships, and that extends to you. you’ve been so kind and accommodating and caring, and he needs to repay you for that. he’s insistent on serving you, because his entire self worth (and by extension any care you’ve gracefully granted him) relies on being useful. also doesn’t really see himself as your proper equal, though he’s less aware of this compared to sebek, and also listens well to just about anything you ask of him. if it’s for you, he’d do anything. ▸ you have a very different definition of "not needlessly violent" than lilia, but it’s at least true he doesn’t go around picking fights. he's not bothered at all by baby chicks clinging too close to you. if anything, he might pop into the conversation and agree with them—you are great and wonderful and adorable and so much more! it makes the conversation kind of awkward, and whoever you were talking to might not seek you out as much afterwards, but beyond teasing you there's never any indication that he goes any further. of course, violence is something he’s been very accustomed to over his long life, so when someone actually hurts you he has no issue with getting the message across in a more… drastic way. as soon as he's done, he's right back to coddling you. they won't be repeating the same mistake again, so don't worry too much about it and stick close to him from now on, okay?

very needlessly violent ▸ violent probably isn’t the best way to describe leona, but he doesn’t hold back when it comes to you. what, you think he’s just going to sit back and let you go? you’re the best thing that’s happened to him, like hell he’s going to not put in the proper effort in keeping you. …even if you’re not sure if you entirely agree with the sentiment. he gets jealous very often, so it’s common to see him glowering and scaring off anyone he deems too close to you. there’s no need to go further when he knows they’ll leave you both alone afterwards, but the threat only works as well as it does because he has both the magical prowess and social influence to make good on his promises. he’ll insist he doesn’t see them as threats so much as pests hanging around and leeching off of you, but there’s some part of him deep down that’s scared you’ll decide you like someone else better after all. he’s not sure he could take even you leaving him. any actual danger to you is also dealt with quickly, and while he doesn’t want to threaten you into it, you won’t have an easy time abandoning him even if you try. you were the one who wormed your way into his life—you don’t get to leave now. ▸ yeah. lol. the tweels are very, very needlessly violent. perhaps not the most Dangerous in the grand scale, but almost definitely some of the most unpleasant. for their victims, at any rate—though they do occasionally (or not so occasionally) nearly give you a heart attack. they’d never seriously harm you though… probably. or actually kill anyone. right…? floyd tends to be the most immediately dangerous. he’s quick to turn to violence (and to get a little too into it) when you’re involved, even more than usual. someone’s bothering you? someone’s getting a bit too close to you in his opinion? you just want him to? you’re not paying enough attention to him and he knows this’ll get your focus back on him, where it should be? :) he’s not too hard to pacify, at least when it’s you offering to let him rest on your lap or offering to spend the whole day with him. jade is usually clocked as less dangerous than floyd, but. well. you know that line he says when he ruminates on how he’d react if betrayed? yeah. unlike floyd, who’s very open about his misdeeds, you’re not actually sure what jade does behind your back. you don’t want to know. the way some people in your life pale and flee at the sight of you, the way you don’t see some of them again at all, and the way jade smiles when this happens tells you all you need to know. what would happen if you betrayed him? fufu, you’d never do that so there’s no need to worry about it. ▸ didn't he attempt to blow up the school once… 💀 yeah, as cute as ortho is he's not exactly built with too many stop guards. the good news is he's easy to dissuade! the bad news is he's also very quick to escalate to really ridiculous levels. you're his older sibling, it's only natural he'd want to protect you! are you sure you don't need him to blow them up? chances are the threat alone worked well enough to deter anyone from messing with you again. you might want to have a conversation with idia about limiting some of ortho's abilities though because his enthusiasm… is a little very concerning… he does get a little jealous occasionally, but it's much easier to insert himself in the conversation and steal your attention that way. isn't your little brother cute? won't you focus some more on him? please?

▸ malleus is… malleus. violence isn’t his first resort, largely because it just… doesn’t need to be. he’s one of the five most powerful mages in the entire world. that title alone is enough to scare off anyone who’d mean to hurt you or is getting too close to you, so he rarely has to intervene in the first place. he also doesn’t mind you having other friends (though he does get lonely in your absence… make sure to make it up to him afterwards), so he really only steps in when you’re in danger. he’s not particularly worried about getting caught by you, because he’s so out of touch that it doesn’t occur to him that you may not appreciate him turning anyone who hurt you into ashes. if anything, he enjoys showing off how capable of keeping you safe he is. he’s defending you, who he cares about most in the world; why would that upset you? if you try to spin it as being worried about him getting into trouble for killing someone, he’ll be very pleased you’re worried about him instead. the only thing that would crack his calm attitude is any sort of reminder that he will long, long outlive you… but it’s best not to dwell on that. fret not, he won’t ever let you go.

#yandere #yandere x reader #x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #i. am NOT tagging everyone #sorry for the awkward line breaks. the editor has it out for me specifically

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harunovella · 1 year ago

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*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ every thought I'm thinking of is you; t.f.

synopsis: you never knew your parents had this much worry when it came to your college life, hiring a bodyguard for you, you just never expected to fall in love this quickly… let alone, let him be your first... content: fem!reader, bodyguard!toji, age gap, older man/younger woman, one sided love, slight obsession, reader is a little bit dramatic but she wants what she wants and what she wants is toji, love confessions, guilt, loss of virginity, pwp, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, aftercare (he is the king of after care ok), toji is a boob man, ambiguous/open ending, not beta read! note: okay but the concept of bodyguard!toji came to me a as a dream way before I wrote my leon fic where he basically becomes reader's guard... anyway, pls enjoy! I love dramatic endings, oops- title inspo (pls listen!)

Being a professional bodyguard meant being hired to protect those important, those who were wealthy. The array of politicians, actors, musicians—you name it—that hired him made his resume endless. However, this was a first. You were a first. Hired by a pair of rich folks to watch over their daughter who enjoyed her college years a little... too much.

Being careless was quite the understatement. Sure, you were doing fine academically, excelling in your classes to get one step closer to your degree... but that didn't stop you from having a full college life. Even if you weren't in a dorm. What, with the success of your parents, you lived in a neighborhood near one of the country's most finest universities. There was no need to live on campus, you could stay home.

Which is why you were always out at the wee hours of the night, not returning home until the sun rose. That was dramatic, but that was how your parents felt. You stayed up late, partied, got home at an ungodly hour and yet managed to be booked and busy the following day. No one knew how you did it, you just said it was you enjoying your youth. You thanked the universe for being blessed with beauty and brains, you weren't sure how you'd survive the life you were living.

You just never expected your habits to be this concerning that you had to have someone watch over you like the others watched over your home and parents. You were used to bodyguards... but never one who almost always showed up everywhere you went.

Toji felt like a glorified babysitter, and if it wasn't for how much your parents paid him, he would've never taken the job. He took his role seriously, he was a bodyguard and that's exactly what he did, especially when his salary was high, he had no questions. Just to protect. Even if the job was anything but easy.

He had been through a lot in his career, the many death threats, nearly taking god knows how many bullets... the scars he's earned. Yet, nothing seemed harder than watching a young woman who wanted to live her life freely and carelessly. Especially a young woman who was nothing but a flirt and a tease. Wanting nothing more than to have his attention rather than ignore his existence.

You, of course, never expected your personal body guard to be the sexiest man alive. Through and through. From head to toe. The dark, fringed hair. Those piercing green eyes that looked as if god got the exact colors of spring grass and replicated them in his irises. The build of his body, bigger than any man you had ever seen... so burly and strong. Arms so thick, muscles so wide. He was so broad, it made you salivate. You never liked men that were overly large. However, Toji? He was on another level. You wanted him. You needed him. No man ever made your mouth water or your body tingle the way this man did. All he did was watch after you, drag you home, and literally put you in your place. With the most indifferent expressions ever, almost never showing emotion even if there was a hint of annoyance in his tone when he scolded you.

Yet, you looked up at him with hearts in your eyes, his words entering one ear and exiting the other as you gazed up at him. Your focus would settle on the scar that decorated his lips, you licking your own as you itched to kiss him. He had no clue the power he had on you. You were love drunk, completely smitten, he was the man of your dreams. As pathetic as it sounded, you wanted to even marry him. He could yell at you all he wanted, saying how you worry your parents and that he isn't your babysitter, but you'd still gaze up at him with the most loving eyes.

Toji didn't know what he was going to do with you.

It's probably what got him in this situation in the first place.

He had stepped out to get some fresh air, processing the events that unraveled before him moments prior. Gathering his thoughts, trying to understand his feelings... trying to manage through all that had been going on that lead to this. He wasn't gone for long, just took a walk around the neighborhood to ease himself... he didn't expect to come back to your home with you completely missing.

He called your name several times, searching every inch of the house once he found your window open in hopes it was all a ploy. You were an actress, quite the attention seeker when it came to him. You lived to make his heart race and play with his head. You enjoyed the cat and mouse chase, but something told him this wasn't that. This wasn't a joke. This was serious. And he hated it.

"Cmon, answer me..." he grumbled, calling your cell phone, only to hear ringing coming from your bed. Shoving some of your pillows and plushies around, he growled. You left your phone behind. Did you actually leave out the window? It wasn't the first time... but you never left your phone behind.

Rubbing his forehead, pinching the bridge of his nose and huffing, Toji recalled the events that lead to this very moment.

Your parents had been out of town for the weekend and you invited some of your friends over, sneakily stealing from their stash of liquor that wasn't so hidden. It was meant for gatherings or when either of them needed to lay back and relax. Your mother's best wine stacked up, your father's favorite whiskeys shelved. You couldn't recall how much you had consumed when Toji found you, kicking your friends out before handling you.

You were a bit of a klutz while tipsy, a clingy mess who couldn't seem to let go of Toji. Like a leach, latching onto him and giggling. Hiccuping as you slurred your words. You were quite the lightweight—or at least drank a little too much. Toji had dealt with a drunken you before, always handling you to make sure you didn't go home like this. He was your savior, quite the massive angel when he sobered you up enough to avoid your parent's disappointment and wrath. Another reason why you fell so hard for him.

Personal space wasn't a thing for you, you were all over him, hugging his arm, squeezing his bicep. Batting your lashes up to him, pressing your breasts against his side while dressed in that cute outfit that you'd sleep in. You had hoped to have your friends sleep over, but that didn't work out when Toji dismissed them. They were all used to him and never questioned him. Slightly annoyed, but they'd never cross a man like him. He was big and terrifying (and they knew you were head over heels for him).

It took everything in his power to keep things civil, asking you how much you had, trying to keep you from doing something you'd regret. However, that didn't stop you from pushing. You were persistent. You wanted what you wanted, and when you zeroed in on something, you'd stop at nothing.

Settling you down and giving you water, making sure you chugged it all as he went through his usual routine to get you sober, you just sat there, happily. Gazing up at him and beaming with the brightest smile, you thanked him for caring for you. Going as far as calling him a true gentleman. He knew what you were doing, it was nothing new. Sighing and running his hand through his hair, he took your hand and pulled you up to your feet, leading you to your bedroom to get some rest.

"Get some sleep, you need it," he said but you only whined.

"I'm not tired," you frowned, shaking your head stubbornly and crossing your arms like a child.

"You need to," he said sternly.

"Nuh uh! Not unless you join me," you grinned but Toji shook his head.

"No," he said your name in an almost warning tone.

"Why not?" You pouted once again. "Why are you so dismissive of my advancements, huh?"

"Because I'm a gentleman," he said, using your own words against you. This making your pout deepen as you huffed.

"I want you, Toji," you confessed, still frowning but looking away now.

"You're just a kid, you don't know what you want," he dismissed as you rolled your eyes. You've heard that plenty.

"I am not a kid, Toji. I know what I want and what I want is you." Without a second thought as Toji watched you stand on your bed, you grabbed the collar of his button down and tugged him in to you. Your lips slammed against his, not lasting any longer than a couple of seconds before Toji pushed you back.

He was in shock, heart racing and eyes wide with confusion. Not that he never saw it coming, but a part of him almost nearly didn't want you to stop. And that was dangerous. He couldn't even have an inkling of desire for you. You were his assignment. Nothing more, nothing less. You were a child compared to him. A young woman with her whole life ahead of her, barely in her 20s and kissing a man in his mid 30s. "Don't ever do that again," he warned as you blinked a few times, frowning and eyes watering. "Get some sleep, you're not thinking straight," he said before storming out, shutting your door a bit roughly behind him. Leaving you there hurt, confused, angry and heartbroken.

Snapping out of his thoughts at the not too distant memory that happened less than an hour prior, Toji cursed under his breath. He shouldn't have done any of that, shouldn't have handled the situation the way he had. Truth be told, he enjoyed your presence. He enjoyed your infatuation towards him. He liked that you were clingy and needy of his attention. It filled the void within him that he had struggled with for so long, using other women and gambling to cover it up. Who was he to have a girl like you by his side when he wasn't man enough? He wasn't the man for you. You deserved better. So much better. He wished you put the energy and effort you put into him, on to someone else. Someone more deserving. Someone more age appropriate. Not your bodyguard who was just a tamed assassin. A man who could kill and not feel an inkling of remorse.

Yet, here he was, blaming himself and chasing after you. He couldn't let anything happen to you. Couldn't let you get hurt. Not only would he lose his job and possibly his head, but he'd never forgive himself if something were to happen and he never saw you again. Wouldn't forgive himself if he never had the opportunity to clear the air. God, what were you doing to him? Never did he care this much about a client! Let alone, a woman!

You couldn't be too far, he came back right when it began to rain. If you were smart enough, you were hiding out somewhere to avoid him.

At least, he hoped.

Of course, you, in all your dramatic wisdom, were walking in the rain. Arms clutching to yourself, trembling at the cold and the lack of layers on. In nothing but your pajamas and slippers. You were being over the top, but your mind was so clouded. Not only by the alcohol, but the fact that the man you were madly in love with rejected you. Sees you as nothing more than a child when you weren't. Just because you liked to have fun in your youth. Why did you have to fall for him?

Crying as your head throbbed, barely able to focus on your surroundings, especially at a late hour like this one. You should've stayed home and just cried yourself to sleep. You were just so angry! You just wanted to leave and never see him again!

Suddenly, the sound of a booming voice shouting your name caught your attention. Looking over to see Toji exit his car and run after you, you quickened your pace. You wanted nothing to do with him, you didn't want to see his stupidly handsome face. You just wanted to be left alone, why couldn't he understand that?!

Yet, here you were, being chased by him. You knew you wouldn't get far, he was too skilled and you may have ran from him a few times in the past only to be snatched up each time. Of course, even with that lingering in your head, you still hoped maybe this time you could escape him. Even if all those other times you ran with the desire of him catching you. This time? You wanted to be as far away from him as possible.

Only to trip over uneven pavement. Lovely.

Grunting and whimpering from the sudden impact, you were ready to force yourself up and keep going, only for him to snatch you up.

"Are you crazy?!" He shouted in your face, hands gripping your upper arms as he shook you. "Do you know what time it is?! Do you know what could've happened to you?! You could've been kidnapped or killed!"

Feeling your blood boil as you panted, you pressed your small palms against him, shoving him off of you. "Get away from me! Don't touch me!" Continuously trying to push him away, Toji wouldn't budge. Growing frustrated and antsy, you acted before you even thought, your palm meeting his cheek as you slapped him.

With a low snarl, Toji glared down at you, grinding his teeth. He couldn't understand why you were behaving this way, his denial towards you shouldn't have been such a big of a deal. It was a stupid crush, he was sure. Something shallow. So why did you continue to fight him?

Capturing your wrists and pinning your hands down as he pressed you against the light pole behind you, Toji hissed, "you need to start acting like a damn adult, not this childish bullshit—"

"Make me," you spoke through clenched teeth. You were shaking from both anger and the coldness of the late night showers. You looked deep into his eyes with, what could've been read as, deep hatred. He knew you didn't hate him, but you were furious.

Feeling his heart race from the adrenaline, skipping a sudden beat from your threat, hating how they suddenly triggered something within, Toji snarled. He felt pathetic knowing he was feeling something he shouldn't towards you, fighting everything in him to suppress whatever it was, being why he reacted so roughly. Like he always did. "Stop behaving like a fucking brat. Grow up. You're a 20 year old college student. Not a 15 year old girl with a crush on her teacher. Act your age and stop thinking the world revolves around you, like you're invincible, when there are those who care and worry about you—"

"Fuck you!" You snapped. "You don't care about me!"

"Who says I don't?! I'm literally right here!" He shouted.

"You're here because it's your job and so you can get paid!" You snapped back. "You don't care about me, not one bit! You never did! I was always just a paycheck! I hate that I fell in love with you!" Instantly regretting your words, realizing what you just said, you panicked. Looking absolutely mortified, you felt Toji's grip tighten around your wrists. You wanted to melt, puddle up and evaporate. Disappear from this universe. How could you let that slip?! Sure, you had an obvious crush but never love! At least, you wouldn't dare admit that!

Suddenly, you tried slipping from his grip, thrashing around to escape, punching his chest and telling him to let you go. Practically begging him to. Instead, he loosened his grip on one of your wrists and grabbed a fistful of your hair, angling your head as his lips collided with your own.

It was far more intense than any other kiss you've ever had, the way he was practically eating your face. Tongue nearly down your throat, stealing every breath you had, saliva spreading in a sloppy manner. You didn't even think, your body acting before you could as your hands reached into his hair. Gripping and tugging at the dark locks roughly. Biting his lip hard enough until he bled, Toji hissed and landed a harsh smack against your ass, earning a yelp from you.

"Is this what you wanted?" He asked in what was possibly the lowest voice he could muster. As if it was filled with anger, annoyance, worry and... lust.

You couldn't even look at him, ashamed in yourself as you shook your head, speaking in the saddest voice, "I just want you to love me back..."

For once, Toji felt off guard, his eyes widening as his grip on you instantly loosened. His chest heaved as his heart thudded against his ribcage. It wasn't even pathetic the way you spoke, far from it. If anything, he felt bad that you wanted someone like from him. And he hated that a piece of him—a big one at that—wanted to give that to you. You did a number on him and you didn't even know it yet. Even in the rain his body felt like it was on fire, as if his skin would melt off. His mind was a mess, thinking about your confession and desires. How attached he's grown to you without truly realizing it. The interactions you've shared and the small advancements made. He hated that... a part of him knew he's fallen for you, too. Quite possibly since the first interaction when he told himself you were nothing more than a spoiled brat and to suppress those feelings... when, in reality, you were nothing but kind. A little wild and youthful, but you never did anything to make him hate you. Never did anything to make his job boring. You were a lot to handle but, he liked it. He enjoyed the thrill of the chase. He enjoyed you. But, god, did it feel so wrong for you to want a man like him with such a troubled past. With almost nothing to offer.

"Fuck..." he cursed under his breath as you suddenly looked at him with pure confusion. Blinking in bewilderment. "I'm taking you to my place." Without a second thought, he lifted you up and took you to his car, driving you to his place and knowing very well this could end terribly for the both of you.

But, he couldn't stop now, not with his hand on your thigh as he drove and not when he pulled you into his place when you two arrived. And definitely not when he stood before you, towering your figure as you looked up at him with those doe eyes that made him want to fucking melt.

"Do you really want me?" He asked. "If you're not sure you can take it I rather you just shower and take my bed before I do something I'd regret."

"Toji, I want you so badly, it hurts," you nearly whispered in desperation, not wanting to lose any chances of having him. He had no idea how fast he made your heart race (or made your inner thighs ache) in deep need for him.

Stalking towards you and cornering you as your back collided with a wall, Toji asked you once again, "are you sure?"

Nodding, you looked up at him with a shaky body, desperate to feel his touch. "Yes, please..."

Toji's hand instantly wrapped around your neck, thumb and pointer finger pressing against your jaw as he pulled you in. He lips smashed against yours, shoving his tongue past them with no hesitation. It felt like he was trying to consume you, exploring every inch your mouth had to offer, moans slipping past your part lips every time he'd sloppily kiss the corners of your mouth. The shared salvia smeared as you felt yourself becoming lightheaded. Your knees were just about to give out, your heart pounding in your chest and humming in your ears. Toji's grip tightened as his free hand slipped under your now soaked camisole. Groping and squeezing at your left breast, thumb brush against your hardened nipple before he pinched it. You moaned slightly into his mouth, panting against him as his tongue intertwined with your own.

Easily lifting you up with one arm, he brought you to his bed, dropping you on it and wasting no time with undressing. He unbuttoned the dress shirt he wore, nearly tearing it off and doing the same with the shirt underneath. His shoes long gone as he tossed your slippers to a side. You sat up on your elbows, trying to catch your breath as you watched the god of a man strip before you. Sure, the suits he wore while on duty hugged his body painfully so, you knew this man was ripped. It was obvious with his towering size and broad shoulders... but to see him shirtless before you? Every line and curve, the shapes of his muscles bulging, the deep v cut and trail of hair that lead to what you needed most. You swore you were going to pass out. This was the man of your dreams, your soulmate, you knew it to be true. And now... you had him, nearly bare before you as he slipped off his pants and wore nothing but his black boxers.

Toji gripped your ankles and tugged you close as you looked up at him, wide eyed and lips parted. Your chest heaved as he crawled over you, hand pressing against the back of your head, pulling you into a slightly gentler kiss. He still chased after your lips, still desired to taste you, but he wasn't trying to swallow you whole this time. Not that you would mind. You'd give him everything if you could.

His large hands gripped your waist as he adjusted himself, straddling you and leaning on his heels before reaching for the hem of your top. Eyeing you and the haze that fogged your eyes, he took in a sharp breath. "Are you sure about this?" Hearing you hum, he shook his head. "No, I need to hear you say it."

"Yes, Toji... Please..." you begged, voice nearly cracking in desperation and need of him.

Taking in a deep breath, eyeing you once more, he lifted your top a bit to reveal your body, stopping midway before he could expose your breasts. "I won't stop until you tell me to."

"I won't," you shook your head stubbornly. "I need you."

Letting out a small huff as his head dropped, grip tightening around your top, itching to just rip it off and tear you apart, Toji bit down. You weren't like the other women, never would be, he wasn't going to just fuck you without a care. He had some decency. At least, when it came to you. He'd never admit to himself why.

Lifting your top off and dropping it to a side, Toji took your body in, your curves and every little mark that were unique to you—whether it was a scar or freckle—it was as if he was mapping your skin. You were squirming, whether it'd be desperation, anxiety, or insecurity, Toji dove in. He gave your breasts the attention they deserved, taking one in his mouth and the other occupied in his bear paw of a hand. He licked at the skin as his fingers teased your other nipple, biting and breathing against the wet skin, making you tremble beneath him.

He switched positions, moaning into your mounds in a sound you've never heard before. If you had to guess, by the way he gave your chest so much focus, how he sucked at them as if they were his life force, and the way he was basically humping you... you'd say Toji was a boob guy. Through and through, no matter the size, he just loved the feeling of the supple flesh in his hands, in his mouth... his aching dick between them, even. If you knew any better, and if Toji lost all self control, he definitely would've fucked them.

But not now, not this time. It was his first time with you, he needed to learn your body. Explore every inch of it. What turns you on, what makes your eyes roll back, what has you seeing stars.

Toji gripped at your shorts, tugging them down and tossing it onto your matching top. Kissing down your belly, nibbling along the way and leaving marks in his wake, Toji found himself nestled between your thighs. God, if there was something he loved more than boobs were a woman's thighs. Thick or not, he loved them, loved having them wrapped around his neck, suffocating him. If he had a way to go, it would be by them.

Kissing your inner thighs, making it to the apex of them, the scent of your arousal was driving him insane. It felt as if he couldn't control himself, grip tightening around your waist as his finger tips dug into your flesh. Not seeming to care of you had a barrier blocking him, Toji buried his face further into you, nose nudging your clothed clit as you shuddered. The shock that was sent throughout your body made your heart race faster as you watched him. It was like he was in a trance, even with your panties still on.

Burying his nose further into you as you trembled, Toji couldn't help but lick against the cloth, tongue nudging your bundle of nerves as your legs shook. "You better not muffle your sounds, I wanna hear it all," he warned as he looked at you, you instantly nodding. Grinning, he yanked your panties off before he pulled your thighs over his shoulders. Your pussy, in all its glory, bare before him. He couldn't help but grin at the sight, the scent driving him mad as he found himself rutting against the mattress. Truly, a woman's body was his ultimate weakness.

Purposefully tossing your panties in a different direction to keep for himself (for future—personal—use, of course), Toji dove in. He didn't even bother to give a single warning. Open mouthed, practically making out with your pussy, your head fell back as you began to squirm. Your moans grew louder the further Toji teased you. With every lick and every suck of your clit, to the prodding of your hole with his tongue, you felt as if you forgot to breathe.

Your thighs were clenching against his head, Toji's grip tightening to prevent you from suffocating him (even if he wanted to welcome it). The sounds were disgusting in a way that turned you. It was almost painful, how good it felt. The way he worked you open with just his tongue, slurping every bit of your essence that leaked. It didn't take Toji long to figure out how to make you come. It wasn't going to be the only time, anyway.

You felt completely spent, lying almost limp before him. You should've known this man was an expert, but a part of you... that was rather innocent, had believed it was going to happen once when he was in you. Of course, you should've know once wasn't enough. No. Not when he introduced his thick fingers, spreading you open, pumping deeply into you as he watched you squirm. He was nearly getting off to it, the way you panted and moaned his name, smaller hands gripping at his sheets as your toes curled. He grinned to himself, licking his scar as he pushed your legs further apart, pumping his fingers faster into you, proud of himself for making you come a second time.

"Look at me," he demanded as your eyes fluttered open. Hooded and exhausted. You watched as he slipped his two fingers out of you, soaked in your release. He watched them in awe as you squirmed in embarrassment. Toji only made it worse when he brought them into his mouth, sucking with an obnoxious groan. It was then you noticed the painful bulge tenting in his underwear, an obvious wet spot that had formed. Did he get off... to you getting off?

"Fuck... 'm not gonna get used to that. Best I've ever had. So fucking good," he breathed as you took in deep breaths. "I think you're ready f'r me."

Gulping as he stood up to strip his underwear, an audible gasp left your lips as you eyed his cock. The tip red and leaking. Oh, you definitely weren't going to handle that. It was monster sized, there was no way no amount of prep would prepare you for the girth of his size.

"Don't worry, I'll make it fit," he smirked, the twitch of his scarred lip making you let out an uncontrollable moan. He was hot and he knew it... and somehow that made it all the better.

Kneeling before you and gripping your thighs, parting them and aligning himself with you, he reached in between and coated his length with your juices, pumping a few times before pushing into you. A gasp got caught in your throat as you nearly choked. Just barely in and you were squirming. "It's— Too big!"

"Too big? You were so desperate earlier," he nearly whispered, voice low and sending a chill down your spine. He pulled back and pushed further in, the stretch stinging and bringing tears to your eyes as you bit your bottom lip. "You can take it."

"Too much— 's too much," you breathed, hand gripping his forearms as if it would stop him.

Instead, Toji laughed, pulling back and pushing in. Thrusting in and out at a steady peace to let you adjust to his size—until he began to reach deeper. Feeling as if you couldn't breathe, Toji leaned into you. Fucking you slowly and deeply, he left open mouth kisses along your neck and shoulders, biting the skin and leaving his mark behind. He couldn't help but lick at you, the sweat that was beading on your skin. You were intoxicating, he couldn't seem to have enough. All the little sounds, how you moaned his name. The way you begged. How your legs wrapped around him, keeping him in deep even if you cried that he was too much.

He lifted his head enough to kiss you, tongue meeting tongue as he moaned into your mouth. God, it was all so much, yet... not enough. You wanted more, your body craved him. Your nails clawed at his back as your heels dug into him. He bit and sucked your bottom lip, lifting himself to look at your fucked out face. Swollen lips, teary cheeks, sprawled out hair soaked from the rain. You were an angel straight from heaven sent to him. He couldn't get enough. He needed more. More more more.

Licking your tears away, deepening his thrusts as he grunted in your ear, your eyes rolled back, seeing galaxies the way his cock reached so deeply into you. You were sure he was going to mold himself against you. "Toji— I— I'm—" you were at a loss for words, mind going blank as you felt that chord within you snap. You came so hard, body trembling and overstimulated that you cried out while pulling at his hair. Toji rode it out, caressing your head and praising you as he continued to thrust in and out of you.

"You did so good, so good. My good girl. You did so good," he praised as you trembled beneath him. Feeling his own orgasm building up, Toji eyed you and nearly came at the sight of your fucked out face. He fucked you dumb, he was sure there was no thoughts in that little head of yours. "In or out?"

"In— In..." you breathed, eyes barely able to stay open as your hands fell limp against his back, lost in his locks as you tried catching your breath.

"Look at me," he said as you gulped, eyes fluttering open. He kept his focus locked on you, thrusting a few more times before stilling, coming deeply within your womb without looking away. It was almost the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. You weren't sure how he did it, so enthralled by those emerald eyes, you were afraid that you'd do whatever he said with how hypnotized you were.

Staying in you for a moments worth as his forehead pressed against your own, breathing each other in, Toji pulled out, earning a whine from you. Nearly flopping on his back, catching his breath as his heart raced, he rolled to his side and snuck a hand in between your legs, feeling the way his come was leaking from you before he gathered it and plugged his finger into you. You let out a small cry, turning your face to hide into his chest.

"Can't let any of it go to waste, can we?" He asked as you shook your head. Toji moved to leave kisses down your thigh as he pulled his hand away, lifting your legs enough to eye the way his seed pooled beneath you. All the guilt was out the window with how clouded his mind was. Having you this way, you giving yourself to him even if it was all so very wrong.

He hated to admit, he doesn't remember the last time he had sex like this that wasn't a way just to fulfill himself and only himself. Instead, he was getting off to you. Getting off to the way he made you feel. Especially that blissed out expression on your face... If only he could fuck you again and again and again until—

Toji stopped himself there before the thoughts got worse. You were spent, exhausted and probably unable to move a single limb. He had to clean the both of you up. "C'mon, can't stay like this, as much as I'd love to." Patting your thigh as you groaned, he leaned in and left a few more kisses against your lips, you lazily reciprocating them.

Toji lifted you in his arms and brought you to his shower. Your body was shaking and legs were surely weak. He made sure the water was warm enough for the two of you, helping clean one another in sluggish movements (more from you and your exhaustion). Toji dried you up after, wrapping a towel around his waist as he helped ruffle your hair with the towel and dress you in one of his shirts. He sat you on his couch with a cup of water as he changed his bedsheets. Bringing you back to the bed, cuddling up against one another as you tried to morph into him, desperate for his warmth, you nuzzled his bare chest. His scent was intoxicating, your eyes falling heavy as you felt your body being carried away into your world of dreams.

"I'm so thankful you're my first," you mumbled sleepily. Toji's once droopy eyes shot open.

"I was... your first?" He asked with all sorts of hesitation. You were a virgin... and he took your virginity?

"Mhm... I was saving myself for someone special enough. Guess that was you," you said before falling asleep, deep enough to not have an inkling that your words would be the reason why Toji hardly slept that night.

Toji took you home the following day bright and early before your parents returned from their business trip. You freshened up and felt a sense of ease and happiness that you've never felt before. Ready to return back to Toji to say your goodbyes as he spoke to your parents, you found yourself hiding behind a wall as your heart skipped a beat and smile dropped at his words.

"I apologize for the late notice but I'll need to take a leave of absence. I already have a few people lined up that can take over my position," Toji said. "I'll give you their contacts."

"What happened? Is everything alright?" Your father asked.

"It's personal reasons I rather not disclose, but I assure you these people can watch over your daughter at a level almost nearing mine."

"I hope all is well, thank you for all you've done for us. Will we be seeing you again?" Your mother asked.

It was what felt like hours before Toji spoke up again, leaving you with a heavy heart that dropped to your feet at his last words, "I am unsure," he admitted. "I wish nothing but the best for you."

Those last words weren't directed towards your parents, it was almost as if Toji knew you were listening. Was he really abandoning you after last night? Did your confession mean nothing to him? Did he... use you? Your bottom lip began to quiver as your eyes pooled up at his last words:

"Take care."

#haruno writes;#jjk toji #toji fushiguro #toji zenin #toji x reader #toji x you #toji smut #toji x y/n #fushiguro toji x you #fushiguro toji x reader #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro x y/n #jjk smut #jjk x reader #toji fushiguro x reader

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crafty-butch · 8 months ago

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Embalmed

A short story by me (tw: body horror, self-harm kinda)

Did you know embalming isn't actually that common, worldwide? I didn't. Sure, there are some famous exceptions–looking at you, pharaohs–but embalming random schlubs is mostly a US thing. Plenty of religions ban it outright. Islam, Judaism, several branches of Christianity…

Bear with me. I promise I have a point.

Anyway, I've got no opinion on what God wants us to do with our corpses. I've never been religious. I'm still not, weird as that sounds. But I'm with Islam, Judaism, and several branches of Christianity on this one. Just skip the embalming and bury the body before it starts to rot. It'll be easier for everyone, on the off chance someone decides to bring them back.

No, this isn't a joke. Look, I'm not saying it's likely, okay? I know the stats. Less than twenty confirmed resurrections in the last half-century. Maybe twice that many ambiguous cases. Actually ambiguous, that is. Just because someone is flaired “unconfirmed” on r/Resurrected doesn't mean there's a chance in Hell they're legit. So, yeah, I get it's unlikely. But let's jump back to embalming real quick.

You know how it works, right? At least vaguely? Blood goes out, formaldehyde goes in. Well, that's step one. Step two is sucking all the non-blood fluids out of your body cavity and swapping those for embalming fluid too. They also sew your mouth shut, stuff some cotton in you to stop any leaking–I could go on, but I won't. Like I said, I don't have any issue with embalming from a treatment-of-the-dead-body standpoint. I'm not trying to make anyone feel bad for embalming Great-Aunt Edith, here. I'm just saying, if the dead body becomes an alive body, you can see why there might be some issues.

Yeah, yeah, I know what you're going to say: “It's magic, dumbass.” And, yes, it is. That's why waking up with your mouth sewn shut and your body stuffed full of formaldehyde doesn't immediately kill you again. Doesn't make it fun, though.

Okay, maybe I shouldn't focus on the mouth thing. I'm sure it's happened to someone, but my sister cut the stitches out before she brought me back. She was thorough like that. I just feel like it's easier to picture, you know? Mouth won't open and hurts when you try. The rest of it's harder.

I don't blame my sister for not dealing with the formaldehyde. I know there wasn't much she could do about it. If she'd had more time, I'm sure she could've come up with something, but once you've dug up a body, you're kind of on a (ha) deadline. If someone sees you, you're done. So I get it. I've had a lot of time to think it over, and I'm still not sure what she could've done better. Other than just letting me stay dead.

I don't want to sound ungrateful, but…maybe I am? A little bit? I know that's an awful thing to say. It's not like I wanted to die. That's not what this is about. It's also not about how super amazingly great the afterlife is. Sorry to disappoint, but I have no idea. I don't remember anything between the hospital and waking up on the grass with a chest full of embalming fluid. Does that mean there's nothing after? Or did coming back just give me amnesia? No idea. I leave that one to the philosophers.

My sister probably would've had an opinion.

She was always…

Let me tell you about my sister.

She was great. I'm not saying this because of what happened. She really was incredible. Almost perfect. One of those people who's so smart and so kind and so beautiful and so goddamn humble but not so humble you can even accuse them of humblebragging, to the point where you can't help but hate them a little for making you look so fucking shitty in comparison and then you feel like the biggest bitch in the world and that just makes you hate them more.

Okay, maybe she wasn't quite as perfect as all that. After I came back, I learned some things. Turns out she was just as much of a fuckup as me, in her own way. She was just better at hiding it. But I never met that version of her. In my memories, she's still just Little Miss Impossibly Perfect. I wish she'd told me about any of it. Maybe…

No, that isn't fair. Why would she tell me anything that could get her in trouble? Maybe I would've hated her less, or maybe I would've just gone and told our parents. Even once we grew up. Would I really have been able to resist knocking her off that pedestal? I'd like to think I would, but come on. Look how I'm talking about her. And that's after she sold her soul for me.

If you're thinking right now that the world probably would've been better off with her instead of me, you're not the only one. Don't worry, I won't take it personally. Or maybe you're not thinking that at all. I've been told I project onto other people.

Maybe you're just confused about why I'm talking about her in the past tense. After all, it's not like selling your soul kills you, and you've probably never met someone unensouled. Or maybe you have, and you know exactly why I'm talking like this. Probably not, though. There are a lot more unensouled than there are people who were resurrected–people sell their souls for all sorts of reasons–but there are a lot more fakers too. Pro tip: if someone claiming they sold their soul gives any sign of caring about literally anything, including whether you believe them, they're lying to you.

So, yeah, she's still here. I know I keep saying it, but I'm not religious. I don't think my sister is burning in Hell while her empty husk sits up here, and if you ask me, that's just a real convenient excuse not to help the person who's still right there in front of you. Whatever a “soul” actually is, there's clearly someone here.

Sorry, I might be preaching to the choir here. And I don't want to sound like I think every religious person thinks that way. I just made the mistake of talking to my parents this weekend, and I'm still a little mad. Or a lot mad. Look, I know I'm getting off topic. Just, real quick, I want to explain.

She's still my sister. I'm not denying that. I keep saying she was this or she was that because she's not really any of those things anymore. She's not cruel, but she doesn't care enough to be kind. I'm sure she's still smart, but she doesn't actually want to use her smarts for anything. She barely eats if I don't pester her into it. I don't think she'd have an opinion on what my lack of memory says about the afterlife anymore. But, hey, maybe she would. Maybe I should ask.

Anyway. None of this is really my point. My point is, waking up next to your own open grave is freaky enough when you're not choking on formaldehyde. It took weeks before I was mostly bleeding blood again. (Yeah, I checked. Don't judge. You'd be curious too.) I coughed up embalming fluid for months. My insides still don't feel quite right. I could get them checked out, but I'll be honest with you. I don't want to know. I haven't been anywhere near a doctor since I got back.

I know, you don't think this will happen to you. No one you know is the right combination of smart enough to wade through all the bullshit to figure out how to revive you and stupid enough to go through with it. And you're probably right. But I thought that too.

#fiction #storycrafty-butch

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deeversuswords · 2 months ago

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‧˚₊ Truth Exposer 1: Uncovered — Ch.4

PAIRING — Pro Hero Bakugou Katsuki/Vigilante F!Reader RATING — Explicit CONTAINS — heavy angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), mutual pining, slow burn, eventual smut, moral ambiguity, cheating (not between katsuki/reader), unhealthy relationships, unhealthy coping mechanisms, grief/mourning, dark themes (past abuse, stalking, kidnapping, torture, quirk trafficking), violence, swearing, open but hopeful ending, dual pov (mostly reader), no use of y/n ◆ married bakugou katsuki—not to reader—and has a daughter too ◆ characters are in their late 20s SUMMARY — Running away would be the sensible thing to do. Getting as far away as possible from him, the one person who’s your ticket to losing your freedom. Not searching for him out of stupid curiosity and showing up at the last place you should: his house. They say curiosity killed the cat, but yours seems to always end up as the key unlocking doors that should probably stay locked. Because when you open the door to Bakugou Katsuki’s life, it’s not a loving marriage, not a happy family of three you find, but falsity, forced duty, and a dark secret that threatens his very own life. Bakugou Katsuki, the pro hero tasked with catching you and your downfall. And you, the vigilante exposing ugly truths for a living—his salvation.

➥AO3 LINK // ➥AO3 CHAPTER LINK // ➥TUMBLR CHAPTERS LIST

CHAPTER WARNINGS — face slapping x2, mentions of blood

WORD COUNT — ~3.7k

a/n: and sooo it begins...👀

Three rings in quick succession on Bakugou’s doorbell, and you went stiff like a statue, hands smoothing over your pants to wipe away the nervous energy. Your heart doubled in speed as you waited, then tripled when you heard his stomping footsteps growing louder and louder.

The door swung open, and you swallowed the anxious knot stuck in your throat, lifting your eyes to meet his. They were anything but welcoming. Typical.

“You’re one minute late,” was the first thing out of his mouth, spoken in a scolding tone that made your irrational agitation cascade off you. Only for a twinge of irritation to shoot through your nerves.

“Technically, it’s you who’s late. I was at your door on time,” you replied, pushing past him. “You opened it a minute later.”

“Should’ve been here a minute earlier. Then my damn door would've opened on time.”

“You said, ‘Nine p.m. Your ass better be at my front door.’” You attempted to imitate him, lowering your voice to match his, and failed. “You didn’t say nine p.m. in front of your open door. Get your facts straight before you spit orders like you’re royalty. Now give me my stuff.”

He closed the door with more force than necessary and narrowed his eyes at you. “You into talkin’ back, or some shit?”

“Do you get off on having the last word, or some shit?” You thrust a hand forward, the other tapping a finger against your palm. “My stuff. Don’t make me ask again.”

One minute of absolute silence followed your demand. Ten seconds for the air to charge up with everything unspoken between you. Fifty more for Bakugou to do nothing but trap you in his unimpressed stare, though the invasive glint behind it caused his pupils to contract and dilate. A pulse of scrutinizing curiosity.

It was impossible to ignore how it seemed to bypass physical barriers and dive straight for the unseen, right into your soul.

You crossed your arms and tipped your chin up, masking the truth rattling your bones. His transfixed stripped you layer by layer until you were left as a naked form, cowering in the darkest corner to protect your many secrets. And you wanted, more than anything, to hate it.

His focus dropped to your neck, and the intensity dimmed. The spell broke.

He marched past you with a sharp tsk, bare arm brushing your own.

Warm.

Shaking the thought off, you turned on your heel, expecting him to be holding your bike key and phone. Instead, a pair of rubber gloves came flying at you, your hands catching them on instinct before they could smack you in the face. Bakugou jerked his chin toward something on the floor.

The intention became clear as day when your eyes landed on the vacuum cleaner, leaning against the couch like some smug character in a detective movie. You squinted at it until your vision blurred, praying this was some kind of prank.

You sent him an incredulous look. “Are you, by any chance, trying to blackmail me into being your cleaning maid?”

One side of his mouth twitched. “Punishment. For breakin’ into my house.” A matter-of-fact statement, delivered before he strode to the kitchen and put on his own pair of gloves.

Anger bit into your skin. “What about your punishment for almost choking me to death, huh?”

“Livin’ it. Gotta deal with you.”

“How’s that fair?” you muttered, but somehow, he still heard it.

“Then up it, Truthie. Get creative. Ain’t that what you’ve been doin’ with me for a year and four months?”

Your mouth sealed shut like a tomb, trapping the retort ready to whip through the air, and leaving you to deal with your heart toppling over at the nickname. Truthie? You were sure it was meant as an insult, a mockery of sorts. So why did it sound…cute?

With an irritated exhale, you put the gloves on and picked up the vacuum, glancing at the staircase. No noise, no presence—his daughter wasn’t here, which made sense. He wouldn’t risk her safety, but had no problem risking your sanity. That little fact made you all the more aware of everything, stomach flipping at the realization that it was just you and him.

Alone.

Engaged in domestic activities.

Some innate impulse had you seeking him out with your eyes. Bakugou’s back was to you, the plane of muscle shifting under the sleeveless T-shirt as he sorted through the overhead cupboards. His hands moved fast and precise, taking things out and putting them back where they belonged.

Your gaze zeroed in on his ring finger; the proof of his marriage was absent. As usual, that part of you that made him matter more than he should’ve lit up like a signal flare.

And it stayed that way for the next hour, leaving you spaced out while your body went through the motions with the vacuum. Back and forth. Back and forth. Into the corners. Around and under the furniture.

On one hand, it felt like a sick joke. On the other hand, like a setup. Maybe it was both. Who could tell when the situation was this level of ridiculous? Helping the enemy of your freedom clean his house? This might as well be the plot of a comedy. Or at the very least, a circus play.

“Come on, you stupid bear,” you snapped, arm stretched to its limit as you tried to fish the small teddy out from under the couch. Its beady eyes seemed to plead for help, when it was really you who needed it.

Not that you’d ever ask. The sky would’ve had to split open and crumble before you pleaded for help from the man of the hour, currently lounging on the other couch, chugging water like a camel. You bet he was devouring the sight of you flopped on your belly and struggling, eating it up with sadistic triumph.

“Say the word, Truthie.”

Of all things, hearing Bakugou Katsuki sing-song a taunt wasn’t on your bingo card. And sounding infuriatingly good too. You flipped him off, and as a reward, your ears had to endure the deep, smug notes of his snickering.

“Aw, too prideful to ask?”

“Look who’s talking.” You aborted your mission to face him. “Aren’t you in this mess because of pride?”

He crushed the empty water bottle in his fist and rose to full height, looming over you like saturated storm clouds about to go off in a fury of thunder and lightning. Lips parting, he licked over his canine again and again as he glared something fierce at you.

“That fuckin’ mouth of yours,” he sneered, shoving his hands in his pockets.

The action inadvertently drew your attention to the tight fabric of his shorts, stretched thin over his crotch. The threads holding it together begged for mercy. Was he—

“Eyes up,” he commanded low, lethal. You wanted to disobey just to see what happened. “Now. Or you want me thinkin’ you wanna clean up more than my living room?”

Don’t go there. Don’t go there. Don’t go there. You chanted in your head, forcing your throat to swallow the saliva pooling on your tongue like you’d been promised the coolest, freshest water. You would…most definitely clean him, your brain decided, before you peered up at him innocently, pretending the faint outline of his dick didn’t exist.

Only to be confronted with another reality—his pupils consumed the red. What was it about him for you? And what was it about you for him? Absurd. Inappropriate. Forbidden.

Criminal desire trickled down your spine, corrupting your thoughts for a fleeting moment with the idea of a world where you both were like the majority of people, not pitted against each other. But the truth was too wicked in its ways to let you feel the illusion, and too cruel to spare you from recognizing what warred in the depths of his eyes.

“How about you put your arms to good use?” You patted the couch. “Lift it. There’s a toy stuck underneath.”

Screw acknowledging his interest. It was probably a natural consequence of the mutual game, though irrelevant. You’d disappear after today, never to see him up close and personal, never to interact with him in any way, shape, or form. Freedom kept you alive, which was more than you could say about being locked up. Confined to four walls might just kill you this time around.

“Anything else, princess?” he bit out, slipping a hand under the couch and inclining it like it was nothing. The couch groaned under its own weight; he didn’t. Only the swelling of his biceps signaled effort. Damn him, and his unfair strength. It was making you feel a tad jealous.

“Don’t drop it on my head, still got things to do in this life.” You reached for the helpless teddy bear, rolling your eyes when he quipped.

“Like what? Breakin’ the law?” He nudged your foot with his. “Got your next target yet?”

And because the lucky stars avoided you like the plague, your knuckles grazed something at the bottom of the couch.

Clink.

You went over the spot again.

Clink.

Glass against glass.

“Lift it higher,” you said, and rolled on your back, tracing your gloved fingers over the spot.

“The hell you doin’?”

“There’s something in here.”

“Hah?” The couch inclined more as he readjusted, dropping to one knee. “Where?”

Your free hand reached for his to guide it when a delicate herbal scent wafted into your nose. Faint, imperceptible to the average person, but not to you. You pushed his hand away with a quick “Wait,” inhaling deeply. Sweet herbs and blooming flowers, laced with a distinct medicinal bite your brain recognized instantly.

No. Why the hell was this hidden in Bakugou’s couch?

You needed to get it out without his interference, without raising suspicion.

"Can you tilt the couch more?" you asked, keeping your voice neutral, even as betrayal took root in your chest.

Tension seized your body as he planted his other hand and pushed the couch higher. The tear in the fabric gaped open, and you slipped your fingers through, grasping something smooth, crinkly. A plastic bag.

Time crawled as you pulled out two small glass bottles, filled with clear, colorless liquid. One was already half-empty. The scent hit stronger now, leaking through the zip lock, and dread set off in your veins. You rolled out from under the couch and shot to your feet, bolting for the stairs. Away from him.

“Huh?” His indignation chased you, followed by the heavy thud of the couch striking the floor. Then came the sharp smack of his hand against your arm, fingers clamping down hard.

You didn’t pause to think. Didn’t reconsider. Didn’t hesitate.

Your palm connected harshly with his face, the slap ripping through the air. Bakugou’s grip faltered, and you yanked your arm free, stumbling backward up the stairs.

“Stay the fuck away,” you gritted out. “If these are your methods, that’s really messed up, Dynamight.”

His thumb swiped over the bottom corner of his mouth, red staining it, more beading on the split surface.

“Is this why you kept my stuff? Leverage to get your hands on me in a different way?”

You stood at the top of the stairs, bracing against the wall, him near the bottom, frozen, staring at you like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“What was your plan? Lock me away and torture your precious proof out of me? Is this what you’ve been doing to every person you tracked, caught, and turned in?” Your breaths came out faster, chest cracked open from betrayal. You couldn’t hold one rational thought. “Say something!”

Again, he wiped at his mouth. “The hell you accusin’ me of?”

A dry laugh tore out of you. “Really?” You yanked down your scarf, and he winced at the bruise glaring back at him. “Is it mere accusation when I got this—” You lifted the plastic bag. “—and this?”

“What even is in that damn bag?”

You scoffed bitterly. “You don’t know?”

“For fuck’s sake, woman. If you’re gonna accuse me, say it straight. Quit yappin’ in circles.”

“It’s chloroform, you supposedly clueless bastard!” Your shout, strangulated by distress, echoed throughout the house like the alarm bells in your head. “Why do you have it hidden in your fucking couch if it’s not for illicit activities?”

Perhaps you were jumping to conclusions, or maybe not. But the apparent deceit shredded your heart and scrambled your thoughts. The pieces fell into place, forming a sinister puzzle: Bakugou as its master, and you, his naive victim. Was all of it staged?

Somehow, he knew your real identity. Somehow, he knew you'd be at that ice cream parlor — otherwise, why else would he be there? He chased you, cornered you, maybe even planned that phone call. Played on your curiosity, betting you'd come running if he gave you the right reason. Obviously, he wanted to catch you. Fulfill his commission. Collect the price pinned on you.

And you took the bait. Like a fucking idiot, you fell right into his trap.

Trap and catch—his specialty.

Who was he? Who was this man turning you dumb against your will? Was there malice under the facade? Were his methods…this?

You raised a trembling hand to your mouth and bit down on the bitter rubber, slipping the glove off, quirk humming in your fingertips. Maybe this was a long time coming, but you wouldn’t make it easy for him.

“That ain’t mine,” he snapped, eyes tracking your every move like a predator. “You’re jumpin’ to conclusions.”

“Then whose?” Your voice shook. “Your daughter? Wife? Friend? Parent? Who?”

His jaw clenched. “I ain’t—fuck—I ain’t sure, alright? I mean it.”

Despite this nightmare coming true, despite the agony corroding your heart, that soft spot you had for him still glowed, bright as the day he saved you. Buried deep as it was, its warmth seeped out, only fueling your anger. It had no right attempting to dissolve your resolve.

He raked a hand through his hair, gripping the roots. “What’s it gonna take for you to believe me?”

“Why does it matter what I believe—”

Sudden ringing shut you up. Whoever it was began to pound insistently on the front door.

“Katsuki, I know you’re home. Open the door. We need to talk!”

In the split second your attention jumped to the voice, Bakugou lunged up the stairs, covering your mouth with his palm and slamming you into the wall. You gasped against his hand, pain shooting up your spine. You swung at him, but he caught your wrist, pinning it above your head. Words spilled from him in a frantic blur, so fast you could barely keep up.

“The bottles...they might belong to that bitch. Shit’s been off since her cheatin’. Too much’s on the line, so I kept my mouth shut until I figured it out.” His eyes darted over your face. “I told no one. You’re the first to know.”

You narrowed your eyes.

“You know why I’m tellin’ you this.” His hands dropped to his sides, one slipping into his pocket to pull out the stuff you came for. The chaos at the front door intensified, his wife’s voice borderline hysterical. “Stay and listen in, or don’t. I don’t care. It’s your call. Just don’t let her see you.”

“Bringing her into your ploy?” you hissed, snatching the two items from him. “Two versus one. How nice. The power couple teaming up.”

The weariest sigh dragged from his lungs. “You know what? Stay. Listen to the damn truth.”

“And risk my safety?”

Bakugou shrugged, stepping backwards toward the stairs. “Ain’t that what you’ve been doin’ this whole time?”

“Idiot,” you murmured, shoulders sagging as you watched him square his on the way to deal with his wife.

You moved out of sight, pressing your back to the wall as your heart thumped anxiously.

“What took you so long?” his wife snapped the moment she got in, her shrill tone scraping at your eardrums. Her name…what was it? Miyako? Mayuki? “Were you cleaning? At this hour? Alone?”

The barrage of grating questions brought her name to the surface.

Miyuki. Fukuda Miyuki, before she married Bakugou and took his family name she was oh, so proud of.

“Didn’t I say piss off ‘til I feel like dealin’ with you?”

“Is that any way to speak to—Your lip.” She gasped loudly, and you rolled your eyes. More than ten seconds for her to notice. “Why is it like that? What happened? Who did this to you? Looks fresh.” Something told you she was reaching for his face.

“Don’t fuckin’ touch me.” Bakugou’s snarled response had the hair on the back of your neck bristle. There was threat, and there was hate. An abundance of unrestrained hate.

“I’m your wife,” she replied, as if that legal status gave her the right to put her hands on him.

“You ain’t my wife, and soon you ain’t gonna be on paper either.”

She laughed, a wicked kind of sound that made your teeth clench. “Please, we both know you won’t divorce me,” she said. “You can’t win, Katsuki. The court won’t rule in your favor. Yua would be mine.”

“You—” He stopped, and you could sense his whole body locking up in anger. Hearing her say that was pissing you off, but him. “Despicable bitch. Over my dead body you get your hands on my kid.”

You jolted when the sound of a slap sliced through the charged air, eyes widening. Disbelief twisted your insides as you crouched and peeked around the corner. Bakugou’s head was turned to the side, blood trickling from his already busted lip, gathering in a drop on his chin. It dripped onto his T-shirt. Seeped into it.

In your mind, the red expanded. And expanded. And expanded, like your dislike for her, morphing into something much darker. Your nails bit into your palm, the pain the anchor keeping you rational. You were so close to revealing yourself, so close to showing her how it feels to be unable to fight back.

Clearly, words were his only weapon.

“I understand your pride is hurt, and I’m sorry that happened. It was a mistake, but that doesn’t mean I’ll let you disrespect me,” she continued with a hint of a smile. “Guess you need more space to work through it. I love you, so I’ll give you that. I can wait. After all, it’s us. It’ll always be us.”

Ayumu was right. Bakugou Katsuki was your downfall, the thief of your freedom, the end of your story. He was. And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to put that fact above what you were witnessing.

His truth. Yours. Both ugly. Messy. Complicated.

“Get out.” Bakugou’s voice came out flat, empty, dead, as if she snuffed out every ember of fire he had in him.

Her manipulative smile sweetened as she laid her clawed hand on his neck, and he didn’t react. “Sort yourself out faster. People are starting to talk.” Her thumb dragged tenderly along his jaw. Her eyes, the color of a clear sky, gazed at him with reverent adoration. “We can’t have that. So, take me out on a date one of these days, dear husband.”

She patted his cheek and turned, flipping her mint-hued hair, the wavy strands smacking him in the face. Her triumphant strides carried her out, leaving him looking like he'd already lost before he even tried, and you realizing how lonely, how trapped he seemed to be.

You sat on the last step of the stairs and waited in silence. Appearances were deceiving, but not even in your worst nightmares did you imagine it could be this horrible. The image his wife showed the world was the complete opposite of what you’d just seen, heard, felt. You had to wonder: when had her mask slipped? Because it was hard to believe Bakugou would willingly tie himself to someone like that.

Unless it was for Yua.

Several minutes drifted by before he swore and turned, stumbling back a step when he saw you still there. The surprise faded fast, replaced by the sour twist of his mouth.

"Got a good laugh outta that?" he asked.

“Sure,” you answered flatly, spotting the pale red splotch on his cheek. Your hands clasped your knees. Hard. “Did she hit you before?”

“Does it matter?”

"Yeah. I didn't laugh hard enough the first time. Go on. Entertain me more."

The tension around his mouth smoothed out. “Once. When I kicked her out.” His tongue peeked out to lick over the cut. “No blood. That bitch’s too weak, unlike someone else I know.”

Something was wrong with him as much as it was with you. Strange admiration shimmered in his eyes, making pleasant warmth spread outward from your chest to your limbs and face. You sighed, and to him, it was probably just exhaustion from the whole ordeal. Perhaps, a sign of you being fed up with him, or indifference to his situation.

But in reality, it was the moment you resigned to your fate. The time to start digging your own grave arrived at your doorstep. The shovel was in your hand.

“You do know this is messed up, right?”

He shrugged. “I got a kid. Simple as that.”

Like you thought. He'd choose his daughter over everything and anything, no matter the cost to him. But maybe, if he had the option—if there were a way to keep Yua without the risk of losing her—maybe he'd consider himself, too.

You pushed to your feet, brushing off invisible dust from your pants, and skipped down the stairs. “Clean that up and put some ice on it,” you tossed over your shoulder as you headed for the door.

Bakugou blocked your path with his body. “What you doin’?”

“Going home for much-needed beauty sleep. Why?”

“You forgot somethin’.” He motioned to the plastic bag clutched in your fingers. “That’s mine.”

Two pulsating vibrations went off in the back of your sports bra. You reached under your shirt, unzipping the bottom of your bra, and retrieved your burner phone. The wonders of custom-made clothes.

A: Street cams miss footage. Time frame: 3h before your arrival and after you left.

You deleted the message and put the phone away, meeting the scarlet watching you with interest. “No, it’s not. Finders keepers.”

The last thing you gave him was a smile promising havoc before dashing out the door.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #bnha x reader #mha x reader #reader insert #female reader #dee writes #dee's: truth exposer series #truth exposer 1: uncovered

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frickingnerd · 5 months ago

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luke dating a runaway

pairing: luke castellan x gn!reader

tags: wholesome fluff, reader has ambiguous past, distant!reader is soft with luke, friends to lovers, happy ending

a lot of the campers in camp half blood were former runaways, even luke himself was one, but something about you and your story stood out from all of the others

luke had heard rumors about you ever since you arrived in camp half blood, but nobody had ever gotten close enough to you to confirm any of them

some claimed you were a disowned god, either a minor one or one of the olympians in human form. others believed you weren't a greek half blood at all and that your roots were laying somewhere else

either way, one thing was clear: you were running away from your past and you refused to tell anyone what exactly you were running away from…

even luke, who became not only your first and only friend in camp half blood, but your boyfriend soon after too, didn't know anything about your past

you never opened up to him about your past and luke never asked you about it. he had his own secrets he carried with him, so he knew he had no right to force you to be honest with you, when he knew he couldn't do the same for you

though there was a single time where you opened up to him. one time you blurted out something, that luke never forgot, but pretended to have overheard in that moment

“i never planned to stay here… until i met you.”

whatever you were running away from, you likely would've continued to run for the rest of your life. but now that you had luke, you felt confident enough to stay with him, knowing that if your past ever caught up to you, luke would be by your side to help you deal with it…

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tldrthor · 10 months ago

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Come find me - peter parker x avenger!female!reader

Part two to promises, oceans deep // we both did the best we could do underneath the same moon, and in different galaxies // based on the song 'Peter' by Taylor Swift

Summary: you thought you would get over him, but you never did. It takes getting hurt, and Cap looking out for you, for you to finally get your head straight.

Author's notes: I ignore a lot of post-endgame stuff. Steve never left, Wanda isn't evil, Peter was never forgotten. I've left reader and Peter's ages semi-ambiguous, so you can decide for yourself what age you think is appropriate!

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You said you were gonna grow up, then you were gonna come find me.

Peter opened his eyes slowly, the light streaming in from the window attacking them. He must have fallen asleep without closing the curtains last night. As he came to, he realised what day it was. And a chill ran through his body.

"Peter!" May called. "Peter, get up! We're going to be late!" She rushed into the room, her nose curling up in disgust at presumably, the smell of depressed teenage boy. "God, we have to open a window in here. It's toxic."

He huffed, and rolled away from her. "May, I don't want to go." He had spoken about this with her already. He knew that Ned and MJ were going, but he didn't want to. He couldn't go, when she wasn't going to be there.

"Is it because of (y/n)?" May's voice was soft, gentle. Like she was talking to a scared, little animal. He hated the pity laced in her words. "I'm sorry she's not going to be there sweetheart, you know she's got a lot going on with rebuilding the Avengers."

You said you were gonna grow up, then you were gonna come find me.

He swallowed, sadness crossing his face, but May didn't see it. "She's avoiding me, anyways."

Words from the mouths of babes, promises, oceans deep. But never to keep. Oh, never to keep.

May didn't say anything to Peter, but she thought it was for the best. She knew how devastating it was, for both of you, to come back to see one of you had kept moving, while the other stayed in place. She saw, in the few weeks following the battle at the compound, how you looked like you was going to be sick every time you were around Peter.

She saw how you barely talked, barely smiled, barely did anything.

She hadn't been around for the five long years between the snaps, but from what she talked about with Captain Rogers, you had taken the losses particularly badly.

Snapping back to the present, she looked at Peter and wondered if you would ever find your way back to one another. She made a mental note to ask Steve how you were doing when she saw him later.

"Let's go, come on." She held his shoulder and gave it a shake. "Your parent's would've killed me if I ever let you skip your graduation."

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The day was a blur. MJ and Ned gave him a hug on arrival, knowing that he didn't want to be here. All he could feel was the loss sitting heavy on his chest. Tony wasn't here. Natasha wasn't here. His parents weren't here. Uncle Ben. You.

There were photos and smiles and drinks. He forced himself to get through it, for May, if nothing else.

Steve gave him a big hug as soon as he saw him, knowing that he was a poor replacement for who Peter really wanted to see. "Hey! Congratulations, Pete!" He gave him a signature pat on the shoulder as Peter muttered a 'thanks, cap' back at him. Steve continued; "(y/n) sends her regards, she's sorry she couldn't come."

Peter bitterly thought that Steve was just telling him what he wanted to hear. He knew that if you wanted to be here, you would have made it happen. He wanted to be mad... but he knew this day would be too painful for you, too.

I won't confess that I waited, but I let the lamp burn. As the men masqueraded, I hoped you'd return.

At dinner, he was distracted. MJ and Ned were talking about the latest political news -- MJ talked about some senators voting record, while Ned relayed funny memes he had found on instagram about her. This obviously descended into chaos.

Peter was more interested in the conversation going on at the other end of the table, between May and Steve.

"So tell me, how is (y/n)?" May asked, looking at your guardian.

He looked almost... resigned. He breathed out, worry lines creasing his forehead. Peter could nearly feel the worry radiating off of him. "She's doing... okay. She's throwing herself into work at the moment, somewhere in Europe. It's all tightly under wraps, but she's an amazing agent these days."

May smiled, weakly. She knew that an avenger 'throwing themselves into work' was a worrying symptom of an emotional storm. She could see it in her own kid.

"Well, tell her we were asking for her when you talk to her next."

"I will. Thanks, May."

Peter had to know more. It was like a burning, aching in his chest. He watched as Steve silently ate his pasta, something - you - on his mind. He knew Steve hadn't said everything to May. Peter longed for the days where he would've known what you were up to.

"Pete, will you tell him to not infantilise politicians!" MJ finally snapped him out of it. Ned laughed at her outburst.

Peter snapped his head back to them. "Yeah, yeah. Ned, it's like... not good for democracy. Or whatever." He felt bad actually, because it was a good point. He just didn't have the energy to back her up right now.

"Ugh! They are employed for us." She groaned.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Peter's back was aching. He stretched it out, trying to power through the ache that came with changing position. Shit, he looked at the clock. It was 3am, and he had been sitting working on this assignment for way, way longer than he anticipated.

Just as he stood up to get ready for bed, his phone flashed, illuminating the room.

"What. the. hell." He said to no one. It was a text from you. God, he hadn't even seen you in more than a year now. Whenever you returned from the top-secret missions you were sent on, you were always mysteriously busy whenever Pete was free, or around. He knew you stayed at Cap's new townhouse in Brooklyn with him, but every time Peter went around, you had always just left. And every single time, Steve gave him a pitying smile while informing him that you had really urgent business to return to, but you were really sorry to miss him.

Are you up?

The text message read. Peter felt like he went through all the stages of grief reading it. He opened it immediately, cursing and praying to Jesus that he didn't have read receipts on. He hurriedly swiped off the message app when the typing bubble came up again.

Not a booty call, I promise.

He almost laughed at that. Almost.

Yeah, are you okay? He replied.

As soon as he had sent it, there was a tap tap tap at the window. He froze for a moment, his heart beat reaching an almost crescendo.

And then, he was moving.

He ripped back the curtain, threw open the window. And there you were. Hunched in the darkness of the fire escape, in a way that immediately, Peter knew something was wrong.

"(y/n)? What are you doing - are you hurt?" He watched as you moved at a near snail's pace from the way you were uncomfortably slumped on the fire escape to enter his room.

The light barely lit up the soft, painful smile as you looked up at him. "Hi, Pete." There was almost a slur in your words. Peter's eyebrows knitted together in both confusion and concern. His arms found your waist as he supported you in moving in through the window and to his bed.

Once you were settled, he strode across the room and flicked the small lamp on. He did not like what he saw.

Although your suit was black, he could tell that it was nearly soaked through with blood. Your nose was trickling blood steadily, and there was a large patch of crimson next to your ear, on your hairline. The skin he could see was littered with bruises even where it wasn't streaked with blood.

"Shit, (y/n)." He dove under his bed, to where he kept the first aid stuff from when he went out patrolling. He ran his hands through it, quickly finding suture material and bandages.

Thank god he had restocked recently, or you could've been in serious trouble. To be honest, you were in trouble either way.

He tried to triage your wounds. From what he could tell, the gash on your side that you were holding seemed to be where a lot of the blood on your torso was coming from. "You're, uhh... going to have to take off your suit, so I can see the damage."

He flushed as he said it. And he swore that he could see your face getting warmer, too. But he was so preoccupied on, you know, not letting you die, that he didn't properly register it.

"Sure, yeah." You reached your arm around to the zip, but as you moved your wounds screamed in pain. You hissed through your teeth and swore, quietly. You were all too aware that May was probably sleeping in the room next door, and you had to be quiet.

Peter reached out, "Let me help," He spoke under his breath. He unzipped you and you slowly shuffled off your suit, wearing some gym shorts and a sports bra underneath.

With the suit off, Peter could see exactly the kind of state you were in. Not only from the fight you had obviously been in, but you also looked unhealthy, almost weak. He remembered a you that always looked so strong, sturdy. This wasn't the person he was seeing in front of him now.

There were scars that were recent but clearly had begun to heal, there was bruises over every part of your body. The biggest gash on your side oozed thick, maroon blood. Looking at your face, he could see that your cheekbones were nearly hollow, your eyes sunken, and the bags under them unmistakeable.

Nothing like the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed teenager he used to love.

"What happened?" He looked into your eyes as he began to tend to the wounds. Which was difficult, considering you were more wound than human at this point. He cleaned up around you gash, and then muttered 'this is going to hurt' as he began to exhibit the skills you had learned from Steve's mandatory 'basic field medicine' course a few years back.

"Ow, fuck." You mumbled, your voice strained. "I got into a fight."

"Well, yeah. I had actually figured that one out." He didn't look at you for concentrating on stitching. "A little more explanation would be good."

You breathed out slowly through the pain. "Okay, I got into a big fight."

He rolled his eyes. He clearly wasn't going to get very much information from you.

"Was it a mission?" He asked.

"No, it was - jesus." You cursed once again. It was really hard to talk while someone was continuously piercing a needle into your abdomen. "Extracurricular, you could say."

He looked up. "(y/n), this doesn't look like just a quick neighbourhood patrol." He knew you were keeping information from him because you thought he wouldn't approve.

"Why did you come here?"

You broke his eye contact. "I was nearby, and Brooklyn is a hell of a trek when you can't swing through the city." He nodded, it was a logical answer. He would always welcome you here, no matter what happened between you guys personally. He was glad you seemed to know that. "And... Cap can't know about this."

Peter's concern seemed to grow with everything you said, and you could clearly see it on his face.

"Please, Peter... He's worried already, I know it. And he's semi-retired, he deserves to rest without worrying about me." You pleaded.

He was slow to accept what you were saying. "But he's practically your dad, (y/n), he raised you. You don't think he would want to know that you're injured? Badly injured, might I add. I don't think this is even something our medical training can cover..."

You raised an eyebrow. "So, you tell Aunt May every time you get hurt?"

"Well, I've not been hurt as badly as you have."

"And if you were, you would tell her?"

He broke eye contact, and looked away. You didn't have to acknowledge out loud that he knew you were right.

With your feet on the ground, tell me all that you learned. 'Cause loves never lost when perspective is earned.

The silence that hung in the air was an awkward one. It suddenly caught up to you both, what was happening. Sitting in your shorts and sports bra, on the boy you used to date's bed. The same boy you had successfully managed to avoid for the best part of a year -- with the exception of Steve's christmas party last year. Just thinking about the awkward, heart-achy small talk made a shiver roll down your spine.

"Do you want to stay here?"

The question felt loaded. Want? Need? The lines were blurred.

"If... that's okay? I can't go back to Steve's like this."

He nodded. "You know you're always welcome here. You take the bottom bunk, obviously.” He smiled.

These bunk beds used to annoy the hell out of the both of you. You just wanted to sleep wrapped in each other’s arms, but May and Cap had insisted that if you were going to stay round, it had to be bunk beds. And the door had to stay open.

The nostalgia made your eyes sting. It didn’t take a lot to do that these days, to be fair.

Peter jumped into the top bunk, and switched the light off. “Goodnight, (y/n).” He whispered, softly, to the darkness.

“Night, Pete.” You muttered in return.

———————————————————————

That night was the best sleep you’ve had since… hell, you couldn’t even remember when. It was probably the blood loss, or…

No, it was definitely the blood loss. For sure.

A sweet scent caught your attention as you adjusted your eyes to the sunlight filtering through the moth-eaten curtains. And the noise… music, clanging of pots, mumbling.

You checked your phone. “Well, shit.”

7.24am. 38 missed calls from “Cap 🦅🫡”.

There were texts as well.

2am: Everything okay? When should I expect you back?

2.24am: Sweetheart?

3.46am: (y/n), I’m getting worried, what’s going on?

4am: Okay, stop playing now. Call me.

6am: You’re in big trouble if this isn’t an emergency, kid.

Shit, shit, shit.

You jolted up, immediately letting out a yelp of pain as you remembered exactly why you were here in the first place. Fuck.

You pressed your hand to your stomach, with a little blood coming away with your hand. Shoddy workmanship, you laughed. You would have to sort it later.

Pulling on your suit from yesterday - thankfully, the blood stains blended in with the dark material - you realised getting home inconspicuously wasn’t going to be super easy. You listened to whatever was going on in the kitchen, the music that you recognised from when you and Peter were together. It all felt so familiar. Too familiar.

And you said you’d come and get me but you were 25, and the shelf life of those fantasies had expired. Lost to the lost boys chapter of your life, Forgive me Peter, please know that I tried to hold on, to the days where you were mine.

You weren’t proud of it, but you opened the window, and climbed out.

You didn’t see Peter’s face fall when he returned to the room, with a stack of pancakes in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. You didn’t see him stare at the smiley face made of whipped cream, mutter “I’m an idiot” and throw the stack away.

You didn’t see the tears fall.

———————————————————————

The aches and pains that pulsed through your body only grew worse the closer you got to Cap’s house. Climbing the stairs felt like a mammoth task, but as you got to the top and put your key in, the door opened -

He was mad mad. You stood in a sort of pseudo-staring contest for what felt like a long time, unsure whether or not it would be appropriate to look away. His eyebrows were furrowed further than you had ever seen, bags under his eyes larger than they had been for a long time.

“Get inside.” He borderline hissed at you. You didn’t respond, just walked. Slowly, subconsciously covering your bleeding side with your arm.

As you walked into the living room, familiar voices greeted you.

“What time do you call this?” Bucky stood by the fireplace, his arms crossed.

Sam sat on the couch in front of him, nursing a cup of coffee. Coffee so strong, you could smell it from the other side of the room. “You look like shit.”

You looked down. “Sorry, guys. I didn’t mean to worry anyone.”

Steve put a firm hand on your shoulder. Still wordless. He pushed you towards the couch, and then down onto it.

He sat next to Sam on the one opposite, Bucky moving to sit on the other side of him. It felt like a judging panel. You supposed that’s exactly what it was.

“Explain.” Steve started. His gaze not becoming any kinder as he looked at you.

“I was with a friend-” You started.

“Which one?” Steve asked, pointedly.

You swallowed. “Um,”

“You’re lying, (y/n).” He folded his arms and leaned back. “I phoned all of your friends, you weren’t with any of them. You said to Sam after training yesterday that you were heading straight home, and here you waltz in nearly 12 hours later. Tell the truth.”

“Fine.” You sighed. You knew he was telling the truth, there was no point trying to call his bluff. “I was at Peter’s.”

You watched every one of them raise an eyebrow at the same time, nearly comedically timed. Steve sat forward in his seat.

“Parker’s? Why?” He tilted his head at you. You were glad that the anger seemed to have somewhat subsided, but you weren’t in the clear yet.

You swallowed. “I, uh…”

Sam started laughing. “Oh my god, (y/n)… you dog!” He looked at Bucky and Steve, who painfully slowly caught on to what he was referring to.

“No! No, no. No. Not that, it wasn’t like that.” You felt the heat in your cheeks and prayed that it wasn’t showing to them too, although something in Sam’s gleeful expression, Steve’s embarrassed blush and Bucky’s quiet enjoyment of the situation suggested otherwise.

“(y/n), I’m at a loss right now.” Steve shook his head. “I don’t understand. Lately, you’ve been disappearing, being secretive - I mean, last I heard you didn’t want to be around Pete at all. And now you stayed at his with no explanation whatsoever, when we were all out looking for you last night?”

Your heart sank, thinking of them worried and out on the streets looking for you. You never could lie to them for long - you should just come clean.

You gave a big sigh. “I got hurt while trying to stop a robbery in Queens, and I didn’t know where else to go.”

With that, they all sat up straight. Grim expressions replaced the more relaxed ones that you had fought so hard to keep.

“Hurt? Where?” Steve immediately stood up from his spot and marched over to your couch, scanning you over with his eyes.

You pulled your hand away from the side, where it had stayed for the duration of this interrogation. It was covered in blood.

All three men immediately jumped into action upon seeing the blood. "Woah!" Sam shouted, running for the extensive medical kit Steve kept in the kitchen.

Steve knitted his eyebrows together while putting his arm around you, looking into your eyes, presumably looking for any sort of concussion or mental delay. "You've been sitting here bleeding this whole time?" He sighed, and then sort of mumbled under his breath, "What is going on with you?"

Bucky grabbed a can of coke from the fridge and brought it over to you. "Drink it, you need sugar." You could tell from his tone that he was annoyed.

"Thanks, Buck." You whispered in return.

You watched your adoptive father's worried expression as he looked at the wounds you had sustained, and the haphazard stitches that Peter had put in last night (and the blood coming through them where they hadn't been done properly).

He fixed you, properly, and bandaged the stitches just to be sure. Sam and Bucky hand him things, making jokes occasionally that you smile at, but it does nothing to improve the cloudy look in Steve's eyes.

"Guys, can you give us a second." He ushers Bucky and Sam out of the room. Sam gets up and leads Bucky away, who still looked furious. You knew he probably wasn't this pissed off at you, and rather the people who had hurt you, but you couldn't be entirely sure. Once you're alone, Cap comes and sits next to you on the couch. "Do you have wounds anywhere else?"

You shake your head. "Just bruises and minor cuts, nothing big."

"Okay," He pursed his lips. "Let's talk then."

You avoided meeting his eyes.

"Tell me what's going on, in there." He tapped the side of your head, just like he used to do when you were a teenager at the Compound upstate. Before everyone came back.

You sighed. "I feel like an asshole." He put a friendly hand on your shoulder. "I'm really sorry for worrying you, and Sam and Bucky. I'm trying not to do that, at all. That's why I didn't come back last night."

He sighs. "Sweetheart, you should never be worrying about me. It's my job to worry about you." He puts a loving arm round your shoulder.

He took a second, considering what he was going to say before continuing, "You've not been the same since the Blip, and I know it's hard. But you have to start living again." It was nothing he hadn't said before.

"But I don't really... have anything other than work. Keeping people safe."

"Hey, hey. That's not true. You have us. You know we're your family."

"Yeah, no... I know. But I just... my friends were all blipped, and Peter..." You felt a tear spring to your eye. It had been a while since you had cried about it. "I've not felt normal since they left, and then when they came back... and I was so much older."

He rubbed your back as he watched a single tear fall.

"(y/n), Peter is older now, too. And I know he never got over you, either... why don't you talk to him?"

"I think I might have burned the bridge, Cap. I snuck out the window this morning while I think he was making breakfast."

He gave you a disapproving look that made you feel like a child being scolded. "That's not very nice, kid. I think you should chat to him."

"Yeah, I guess so." You moved to get up from the couch, but sat right back down when a shooting pain radiated up nearly your entire body. "Shit."

"Hey, hey! Sit down!" Steve pushed you back down. "On second thoughts, why don't you invite him and May round for dinner? You're not going anywhere, kid."

"Yeah, that sounds better." You laughed, meekly. "Although I have to shower..."

"I'll call Wanda to help you out with that." His quick, embarrassed tone made you laugh.

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"Hey, there she is!" Sam shouted as you walked back into the kitchen where they were diligently making dinner. Wanda walked past you to the fridge, pulling out a soda. "How are you feeling?" He asked.

"Better, thanks Sam." He nodded in approval at your response.

"You look better, you know that. You looked like death warmed up earlier, and that's not even an exaggeration." You rolled your eyes at him, "You've even managed to dress nice for the occasion! It's been a while since I've seen you in anything but sweats." You pushed his shoulder, stopping the incessant chatter.

Bucky threw an arm around your shoulder. "You're a chip off the old block, y'know. Just like Stevie." You watched as it was Steve's turn to roll his eyes at his friend's antics.

The doorbell rang through the house, ending the moment. Your heart thudded in your chest, a wave of nausea overtaking your stomach. "That'll be May and Peter, I'll grab the door." Steve gave you a knowing look, like he could read your mind. "Are you going to be okay?"

You nodded, slowly, taking deep breaths. Wanda slung her arms over your shoulder, whispering "you're going to be just fine." She pressed a kiss to your cheek.

"Hi, Steve," May Parker's soothing voice carried through to the kitchen. All four of you remaining in the kitchen wandered through the hall to meet your guests.

When May's eyes fell to you, you could swear there was a tear in them. But it was gone almost as quick as you could tell. "Oh my darling girl," She wrapped you in a hug, squeezing tight. It kind of hurt, but you were desperate to not let it show. You needed this. "It's been far too long, we've missed you so much."

"I know May, I'm sorry I haven't dropped by." You apologised as she dropped the hug. She put a loving hand on your face, and smiled sweetly.

"Don't be silly, sweetie. You have nothing to apologise for." Unfortunately, she didn't know the half of what you had to apologise for.

As it came to your turn to greet Peter, your heart pounded. The others ruffled his hair, lightly bullied him over how dressed up he was. It was only a shirt and sweater, you didn't really see the problem. But Bucky and Sam were always on the lookout for ways to playfully get under spiderboy's skin.

"I think you look nice." You blurted out, almost involuntarily. Bucky and Sam smirked at your outburst, and you suddenly realised that maybe they weren't goading Peter, they were goading you.

"Uh, thanks... you look better," As it came out of his mouth, he realised that he was alluding to something you had asked him not to tell them. "Oh, um, I mean like good, you look good."

You laughed a little. "It's okay, Pete. I told them, we're good."

Steve interrupted, a firm hand on Peter's shoulder. "So, Pete. I hear you've been aiding my daughter to keep secrets from me." Peter gulped at his words. "Relax, kid. I'm just messing. Although we definitely have to improve your stitching skills because that was sloppy."

May stood, confused. "Peter, do you want to catch me up to speed here?"

"Sorry, May." Steve said. "I'll explain what these rascals have been up to." He linked arms with her and wandered towards the dining room with everyone else following. Leaving you and Peter standing in the hallway.

You finally flung your arms around Peter. "You told them?" He asked, at least a modicum of relief behind his words.

You nod. "I kind of had to, they had been out last night looking for me. I felt bad." You swallowed, and realised this was a good time to apologise. "Thank you for helping me out last night, I don't know what I would have done without you."

His arm raised to the back of his neck, as he looked away from you. "Hey, no problem. Anytime."

"I'm sorry I left without saying goodbye."

"It's... alright, (y/n). You had to get home, I understand."

"No, Peter. It was shitty of me to do that to you. I'm sorry."

He smiled, his hand moving towards yours. When he got there, he wrapped yours in his, and gave a loving squeeze. It was the most romantic contact you had had since... well, since him. You were surprised that it felt so normal.

"Let's get dinner." He whispered. You nodded in agreement.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You said you were gonna grow up, then you were gonna come find me.

Dinner was as dinner usually is. It was delicious, clearly Steve had been cooking a lot since he took a step back from the Avengers. Sam and Bucky argued while Wanda, Steve and May talked a lot about current events. You and Peter chatted mostly about what your friends were up to, and what your plans were.

"I'm thinking of going full-time with the avengers." Peter revealed. Your eyes widened, knowing that when you were younger, that's all you had both wanted. To be fighting alongside each other, permanently.

"Peter, that's amazing!" You breathed out. "But what about college, didn't you want to go to MIT?"

"Nah," He smiled. "Changed my mind. Don't think I could do avenging and college at the same time. Plus, Tony left a bunch of science stuff behind for me to finish off, so I would have my own lab at the new facility anyway."

You couldn't help the wide grin that adorned your features. "When would you move?"

"I could move anytime. Are you um, planning to go to the new facility?" He asked.

"Yeah, I was hoping to split my time between here and there." You looked over at Steve, talking with May. He didn't need you here. You knew he would love for you to stay, but he would be just fine without you. Plus, he was only semi retired. He'd probably be at the new facility more than you. "I know Bucky and Sam are going over there full-time, that's why they're crashing here for now."

"Oh, great." He sarcastically rolled his eyes and laughed.

Your conversation was interrupted by Bucky shouting over to you, "Hey, kid! Tell everyone about the time you tripped yourself up and accidentally caught the bad guy."

"Bucky, stop telling everyone about that!"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hey, do you want to go swinging?" Peter whispered, as everyone started clearing plates.

You eyed Cap nervously, knowing that you couldn't leave without telling him, again. Not after your heart to heart earlier. There was no way he would let you swing with Peter, not with as many stitches as you had.

"Maybe just a walk?" You mentioned to Peter. He glanced down at your side, where he had seen the wound last night, and agreed.

You both got up, clearing your dishes as you went. "You ask him." You whispered to Peter while the older avengers and May were still in conversation.

"What? No, you ask him." He harshly whispered back. You rolled your eyes.

"Hey, Cap?" You got the attention of everyone still at the dining table.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Would it be okay if Peter and I went on a walk?"

"Of course, honey. But no swinging," he sternly looked at Peter. "and wear a jacket, it's cold out there."

"Aye aye, cap'n." You saluted him playfully, walking out of the room and waving to everyone. You would see them when you got back, anyways.

What you didn't hear was Steve asking Sam for Redwing to follow you, at a distance. Just in case.

You threw on a jacket and a scarf, opening the door once Peter had done the same. It was cold. It was that kind of biting, painful cold that really settled into your bones.

The walk was mostly silent at first, the street sounds filling the gap. You gasped quietly as Peter snaked his hand into yours as you wandered. The warmth was very nice, but the implication made your heart do double time.

"Where do you want to go?" He broke the silence.

Truthfully, you had no idea. You had absolutely no direction in your brain as your thoughts were smothered by the fact that you were together, holding hands.

"I don't mind, really." You responded.

"I know a place... but it requires climbing, is that okay?" He asked, once again his eyes wandering to where your wound was healing, under your clothes.

"Yeah, that's fine. Where is it?"

He walked with you for a little while longer. Once you reached a taller building, he motioned for you to hop onto his back, as you used to do.

"Be careful," You whispered in his ear. Your hot breath so close to him made his hair stand on end, goosebumps sticking up all over his skin.

He swallowed. "I've got you, don't worry."

And so, he climbed. It was quick, he was stronger now than you remembered. You felt his back muscles tense and relax under you as he flexed out his arms to pull you both up.

He set you down carefully once you got to the top, showing you the view. You wondered how he had found these places, how he always had the most extraordinary little pockets of New York that he reserved, just for you.

"It's gorgeous." You sighed, contentedly.

You could feel his eyes on you. You could tell exactly what he was thinking, without even seeing his face. His hand wrapped itself in yours, as you pulled your jacket and scarf closer around you.

"Are you cold?"

Before you could even respond, his jacket was wrapped around your shoulders. You smiled at his chivalry, drawing the jacket around you and appreciating the extra protection against the elements.

"(y/n), can we talk?" You felt his eyes on you again. You nodded at him, unable to find words as your blood pumped ferociously around your body. "I want to try again..."

Your eyes widened at his confession.

"I mean it," He continued. "I've never... I've never stopped loving you. I've spent years trying to move on, but I haven't. There's no one like you in the world. No one."

His hand lefts yours, and found your cheek. His eyes wandered over every freckle, every scar, every bruise he could see. "You are so beautiful."

You were at a loss for what to say. You had craved these words since the moment you left Clint's farm that day. You could barely hear anything anymore, as the moment melted away to just you, and him.

And so, you did what you had wanted to do for so long.

You kissed him.

As your lips connected, it took a second for him to even register what was happening. But once he did, the passion, the emotion you felt in that moment was like nothing you had ever experienced. His hands tangled in your hair, desperately drawing you towards him.

This wasn't like to loving kisses you used to pepper over each other's lips. This was need, it was animalistic. It was war and anger and heat. It was love.

When you both finally pulled away, your breath was ragged. You placed your forehead on his, your hot breath tickling each other's faces.

"I've never stopped thinking of you, Peter." You admitted. "Not for a second. I've always regretted walking away from you, hurting you like that." You screwed your eyes shut, the pain of the memories a little too much to bear.

He raised your face until your eyes met his. "It wasn't your fault. I left you behind in the snap, and you spent five years mourning me. I never blamed you for what came after, (y/n). Never."

His words soothed the pain in your chest. You had always wondered.

"I want to start fresh with you. I want to go on dates and get to know you, as you are now. I want to be normal kids..." He stroked your cheek with his thumb.

"I want that too, Pete."

He pressed another kiss to your lips, this one short and sweet. "Good," He looked into your eyes, a mischievous glint in them. "Then we should probably get you home, we've got an early start tomorrow."

You raised your eyebrow in questioning.

"I'm taking you for breakfast, sunshine."

#peter parker x reader #steve rogers x reader #avengers x reader #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #sam wilson x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #bucky barnes x reader #may parker x reader #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman #tom holland

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sol-consort · 4 months ago

Note

My brain got bodyslammed today thinking about Pervy Quarian Roommate again and his method of "boosting his immune system" by making out with reader. The bodyslam came with extrapolating of off the theory of humans inventing kissing as a means of innocculating others to our germs to a pipeline of how breastmilk is also said to help a babies immune system and Quarian Roommate learning about this and just plummeting down a rabbithole of fantasies about reader pregnant and swollen and needing milking and he's all to happy to offer to help them. He can't see his helmets foggier than normal, can't even speak without risking saying something completly unhinged to the reader about the sites he's been visiting lately, he's a mess. Someone help him.

(Sorry if this is too much, just had to yeet this into the aether to clear it from my mind)

You know what? I'm proud of you for yeeting this into my aether. It takes courage!! This is a kink positive blog. Also, lowkey really motivated me to write like damn this is a minty fresh prompt that I haven't done before, I'm intrigued, I'm curious, imma take a dip in the milk pool. Was supposed to be a drabble, turned into a whole fic, bon appetite? (pun intended) Will crosspost it to AO3 later.

Quarians Can Get Humans Pregnant, You're Just Not Trying Hard Enough!

(yes this is the title I settled on)

[Heavy smut, breastfeeding kink, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, perversion, male quarian being a degenerate, health kink if you squint? SOME plot]

[AFAB reader has a vagina/breasts, Ambiguous gender, GN pronouns]

Loosely follows this roommate series as part one, but can stand on its own.

The thing about human breasts is that because it's such a common fact of life, a lot of sources and wiki articles on breastfeeding fail to mention that milk production is mostly only possible by pregnancy. In the majority of mammals, their breasts only visibly swell with fat after pregnancy, then gradually decrease post birth. Humans are a minority with our constantly visible round tits 24/7.

And that fact might slip by other species, most importantly the sheltered alien who can't make it two paragraphs into the Human Anatomy Wikipedia without getting a raging boner and losing all focus. The words blurring into one another as all he can think about are the hard nipples he saw poking through your shirt one cold morning.

Because he is such a bad reader and an incredibly perverted person, he might just think that you're already pregnant. Incubating a life inside you. That it's just a matter of time before you become groggy, sleepy, and cuddly all day long. Swollen and heavy, always craving something to munch on, always cozy in bed with fluffy blankets, chest even bigger than before, tits swollen and spilling over your now tight top.

But ah, that fantasy falls apart if the alien in question is a quarian. It would've worked with literally any other alien species besides them and the asari since they also happen to share this rare anatomical trait of humans.

So he knows you're not pregnant. But you know what they say about yearning? The harder something is to reach, the more tantalising and desirable it becomes, and the more delicious it is to achieve.

The fact that you are currently not pregnant is borderline blasphemous in his eyes. It's a crime! Your fellow humans must have lost their mind or something to let someone as strong, healthy, smart, and beautiful as you just stay barren.

This isn't his rose-tinted views talking... well, maybe it is. But nonetheless, you're a prime candidate for breeding. So fertile and healthy. Your body will be accommodating to any cock it takes inside, your womb practically begging to overflow with cum.

You need a baby inside you. Plain and simple. He swears he can't understand the human mind at times.

It's so infuriating. He's like a starving person watching a bunch of people pass up on a literal feast in front of his eyes. It's so unfair that he can't get you pregnant himself.

Be it nurture or nature, fantasies of breeding you constantly plague his mind. Seemingly popping at the most innocent times... and some not so innocent times.

Oh, trust him. If he could, he would.

If only.

On one hand, he is turning green with envy at the mere thought of a human courting you. On the other hand, he knows there is a zero chance of you getting pregnant without another human being involved.

He could stuff you with his cum all day long until your legs are wobbly and your tummy has a subtle bulge to it. An opaque fluid seeping from your cunt and onto the mattress below, hole gaping and closing in rhythm with your heavy breathes as you lay there all spent and oversensitive.

He wants to have his cake and eat it too.

He wants your boobs heavy and leaking, your tummy full and round, whilst being the only person allowed to creampie you.

Not that he actually ever got further than kissing you under the pretence of training his immune system—all the antibiotic shots he needed to take in secret afterwards were totally worth it—what matters is that you believed him! That you happily and enthusiastically smothered him with kisses until your lips were shiny and glossy.

If only he could get over his fears and confess... alas, each time he comes close to it, he chickens out. Especially with the uh other roommates' eyes digging into his back whenever he attempts to have a "private" chat with you in the hallway. Yeah, the walls are really thin in here.

A man can dream, at the very least.

Weave his own fairytale of sharing a house with you, just the two of you. Maybe a modern apartment in the Citadel overlooking the persidium, maybe a house with a spacious yard in an upcoming colony, maybe saving up for a good domestic ship and touring the galaxy together.

What matters is, in his fantasy, you're always waiting for him back home. Greeting him at the door, barefoot with your face all flushed and pouty, already mad at him for something. You forgot what it is, but you're still mad nonetheless.

He has to restrain himself from melting into a puddle on the floor right then and there, how adorable you are whilst being all huffy and puffy.

Of course, he'll make it up to you. He'll do whatever you ask. He'll get you whatever food you want. Want him to massage your feet after he makes you a cup of hot tea? Want to sit in his lap and let him rub your round stomach in a comforting motion?

He'll play the role of the dutiful husband to the nines!

Or is his pretty human all moody because your chest is too heavy? Did it get too swollen with milk while he was away? Is that what's been bothering you all day?

Poor baby, let your husband help you with it. You always liked tracing the star patterns on his galaxy skin while cradling his head to your chest.

A dark purple tongue littering kitten licks atop your soft nipple, watching it harden against the cold air, coaxing the tender thing into his mouth, twirling it around with his tongue.

Just to prolong the process, just to get to play house with you a little more. And you're just so needy for his mouth to relieve you of all of this milk weighing down your chest, that you don't even have the energy to tell him off for deliberately teasing you.

Your eyes glossed over the second he took your nipple into his mouth, your brain turned into mush, the heat in your core intensified.

It feels so right, having someone drink from your chest. Your body knows it feels right and it rewards you for fulfilling your purpose, it makes you so happy and pliant, makes you so docile as you sit there slightly squirming, gentle hands cradling his head, burying it against your tits even more in hopes he'll take the hint and start drinking.

Why isn't he drinking yet? You really need to get this milk out, it's too much. You're almost brought to tears, he is being too mean...

You're still in your new clothes and all—the fresh ones you had to change into merely minutes before his arrival because the previous ones were all stained from your chest just leaking all day long—comfortably nuzzled on his lap, facing him with your back against the headboard of the bed.

Nursing bra pushed under your boobs alongside your low-cut top, making your tits literally spill over your clothes. You did all of this for him, and he's still not drinking from you.

The quarian learned how to read human emotions while living with you, or maybe it was you who became more and more of an open book around him the more time went on, especially with you pregnant with his child, how vulnerable and treasured this made you feel.

Before it became too much, you felt that familiar sensation, his lips tightening around your nipple before sucking against it. Great relief washed over you.

It's weirdly vulnerable, having someone nurse from your chest, the most intimate act you can imagine. There is no room left for shame, or else, this is as bare and exposed as you can ever be with another person without merging your souls into one.

A soft sigh escapes you, eyes closing, your head tilting back against the headboard.

He's draining the milk out of you, sucking until he collects a generous mouthful, and then the sound of a big gulp follows.

You hold him tight through it, keep tenderly cradling his head to your chest, encouraging him to drink up to his heart's content.

Gradually, one of your boobs begins feeling lighter. Like a boulder lifted off of your shoulders. At the same time, a new sensation begins taking place. Now the nipple squished between his lips is all sore and aching. Half your breast is completely shiny with his spit as he licks it entirely clean, not letting a single drop of milk go to waste.

It's always hard getting him to stop latching onto one and move to the other breast; his whines as you cup your boob away from him almost breaks you, that subtle vibration in the quarians' voicecords always tug at your heartstrings.

But he doesn't move to stop you, merely attempting to chase it with his lips for a few seconds before accepting his fate. Giving you these puppydog eyes, dark pupils fading into the sclera, blurring at the edges, a light iridescence to his irises, shifting in hue as he tilts his head to the side.

Mewling for more of your milk, of your love, of you.

It's always hard. Not because he's stubborn, quite the opposite, but because it's emotionally taxing. You'd think you were betraying him from the way he looks like a kicked puppy, silently pleading for more.

Sometimes you glimpse moments of lucidity, just how bizarre it is that you're really sitting in here, nursing an alien, and a very pretty one at that, while pregnant with his child.

That somehow across the planets and stars, somehow fate deemed it amiable to make the milk humans produce not only very compatible and safe to consume to a certain group, but that very same alien species seeks it out like liquid gold. It lights up all the right spots in their brain, it's the tastiest thing they could possibly consume.

So imagine their deflated reaction when the human race turned out to be too prudish and unnerved by the quarians' enthusiasm and apparent shamelessness in their giddy request.

But not in this house. Sure, if another alien had asked you for such a thing, you'd send them into orbit with zero hesitation.

Never with him, you could never refuse him a request. How lucky he is to have someone so understanding and accommodating like you.

Cupping his cheek with your hand, your tilt his head up, lips brushing against his own in a soft kiss. He's more than receptive as he deepens the kiss, making you taste yourself, traces of your very own sweet milk evident in his greedy mouth.

Pulling you even close on his lap, squeezing your thighs, kneading the doughy thing. How can someone so beautiful be so strong? At times, you swear he appears as delicate as a flower made from star clusters painted across a dark abyss.

At other times, when he picks you up so easily at the front door, carrying you to the bed without breaking a sweat. Simply cooing at your adorable upset expression, leaving light pecks across your face and neck as a way to kiss the moodiness away. And you're reminded of who you're dealing with, the wolf in sheep's clothings.

Especially now, with these "delicate" fragile-looking fingers squishing the fat on your hips and thighs, completely massaging all the knots out, a steel grip keeping you secured to his lap.

To think all this beauty was hidden away behind a metallic environmental suit for years and years... finally blossoming in front of your eyes.

You break the kiss just as he begins rolling his hips from under you. Knowing exactly what's the thing poking under your thigh is. You got him all excited and worked up from a simple kiss, or maybe getting easily riled up is just one of the side effects of a quarian being milkdrunk.

Cupping your other breast, the still full one, you attempt to slightly nudge it up a bit. Your hand is clearly not big enough. The soft fat spilling from the corners. To add insult to injury, you only served to aid gravity into squeezing it flat against the palm of your hand.

Pursing your lips in an attempt to suppress the embarrassing groan leaving you at the sensation of having your swollen breast squeezed, even by accident. The tip is already covered in a sheer milky liquid, leaking droplets of your precious milk, feeling it trickle down the underside of your breast, soaking the fingers still holding it up.

The hands under your thighs secure their grip, lifting you slightly in the air, pressing you against the headboard. Your thighs squeeze together under your round stomach. The quarian has a better ease of access now, lowering his head to reach the underside of your chest.

A shiver runs through you at the feeling of his tongue licking stripes down there, moving across your fingers, cleaning them from the precious droplets of milk. Not letting a single one go to waste.

Tongue tracing from the underside of your breast up to your nipple, flicking it with the tip of his tongue as you whine and squirm at the sensation, watching it leak even more into his open mouth, and down your chest, making another mess.

Repeating this agonising process for a few minutes before finding mercy in his heart to lower you down and back into the safety of his lap.

You're so mad at him you want to chew him out for behaving like that and deliberately teasing you, it's not safe to lift a pregnant person like this! You had to carry your stomach with your thighs just so it wouldn't droop, really he needs to be more responsible.

But all that comes out as you open your mouth is an obscene moan, one straight out of a cliche porno. You don't even register this lewd voice as your own for a few seconds.

While you were busy stewing over him in your brain, not only did his hand sneak under your clothes, but flick your clit as well, before his thumb rolled the bundle of nerves around, eliciting that lewd sound out of you.

You were completely drenched, and you didn't even know it. While he sucked your tit dry, you were only getting wetter and wetter down below, head in the clouds and consumed by bliss, none the wiser to your leaking, aching cunt.

Both your arms wrapped around his neck, guiding him by the nape to your full breast again, silently pleading with him while your clit was being toyed with.

Just as his mouth latched around your nipple, one of his fingers squeezed itself between your tight walls. Burying itself all the way to the knuckle, bending and pressing against your walls, before sliding almost all the way out.

Fucking in and out of you, causing more of your wetness to pour out, while your milk poured down his throat. Greedily sucking against you with feverish intensity, as if he's man starved to quench his thirst, as if he didn't just get his fill and more from your now empty sore breast.

He can't help it. Your milk is ambrosia to his senses. Its creamy taste, sweet smell, and even the mouthwatering colour of it. It drove him mad with desire.

He'd drive his finger into you whilst sucking deeply around your nipple, pulling it out just as he swallows down all the delicious liquid. A vulnerable expression painted across his soft features, eyes locked into yours. Looking up at you as if you're his whole world, his sun and moon, his sole reason for existence, the one carrying his child in your belly.

You sacrifice so much to him, indulge his every whim. How can he not appreciate all that you do? How can he not treasure you? You've let his seed alter your entire body just to grow his baby inside you, to offer him a healthy child.

Going through all of the hardships of pregnancy, of seeing your own belly bulge more and more out each day, until your favourite clothes won't fit anymore. Until you're swollen, stomach round, flesh tender and jelly-like.

Having to abandon your favourite bras as your tits grew too big to fit inside them, and too heavy for you to comfortably walk around. Going without a bra just meant ruining all your new pregnancy tops as your breast kept leaking all day long.

One time, you were just finishing cleaning the table, only to notice recent droplets of opaque liquid seemingly appearing from thin air, always returning no matter how many times you bend over the table to wipe them. Only once you passed by a mirror and glimpsed your completely drenched top did you realise the cause.

The deeper into your pregnancy months you reached, the harder and harder it became to think and function. Everything ached. Everything was sore. You are constantly wet in some shape or form. Be it your tits leaking milk in the middle of the night, or your needy cunt ruining your nice panties with silky wetness because your libido shot through the roof overnight.

It was all too much, you just needed to be taken care of.

Sitting on your husband's lap, emptying your swollen tits in his mouth as he sucked and nursed against you. Mewling out as he spreads your pussy with another finger, thumb still abusing your clit to no end.

Allowing you to completely turn off your brain, no more overthinking. Muffling the mess of hormones nagging you with absurd thoughts, driving you up the wall with the intense waves of emotions that constantly wash over you.

You're glowing. Your husband would constantly whisper against your skin, littering every inch of you in kisses, worshipping your whole body at the end of each night. Driving all the bad thoughts away and reminding you of just how radiant you are, how mesmerising your silhouette is.

He loses his track of thoughts sometimes because he stares at you a little too long and forgets what he was going to say, enraptured by your beauty and sweetness.

Minutes blur into each other, and two fingers become three. Your body sprawled across the bed, a pillow under your hips for comfort, another under your shoulders and head.

Your husband is kneeling over you, bowed legs with claw-like feet. Careful not to scratch your soft human skin.

Now properly emptied of all milk you could give, sucked dry to the last droplet. You can't help but feel proud of yourself for doing so well, proud of your body for producing so much milk, for feeding the man you love most with it so he may be strong and healthy.

The thought of your milk inside his stomach right now is so satisfying, as equally parts endearing. He must be so full and sated with your milk. Now you wonder if there was a point to the lunch you cooked after all.

Your chest feels tremendously lighter, albeit your nipples are extremely sore, puffy with a deep hue. So sensitive, even to the simple air brushing against them.

He really nursed to his heart's content.

His cock's been throbbing in the confines of his clothes. All this time, he's been neglecting it for the sake of overindulging in your body.

You might have ruined the man beyond repair, causing him an irreversible oral fixation. Licking his lips, he's still not satisfied, eyes drifting lower between your spread legs.

Lowering his body down the bed until the heat of your cunt is inches away from his face. Looking over the mess he's made out of your soaked pussy, keeping you at the edge for so long... he knows it's cruel, but can you blame him for wanting to drink your cum as well?

He was too busy with your milk. He didn't want this to go to waste. Now, he'll more than make it up to you.

Hungry mouth latching onto your clit just like he did to your nipples, nursing against the sensitive thing, swirling it with his tongue. Bringing you endless waves of pleasure, as he takes in the sounds you make, only serving to motivate him further.

Not that he did need any motivation in the first place, from the way he's lapping at your cunt without shame, groaning in delight at its taste.

His last thread of self-restraint snaps, hand moves between his own legs, practically wrestling his cock out from his pants.

You only get a glimpse from this position, but fuck, is it pretty. It's such a crime for a man to have such a pretty looking cock, even his pre-cum is a sheen rose blush tint. Sometimes. The quarians feel too unrealistic for this world, even for aliens.

And despite all of his apparent beauty, you've reduced him to a feral man, desperate to drown himself in your cunt as he fists his cock harshly. Your husband is a needy mess, tugging as his cock in frustration, smearing pre-cum over his hand.

He's so close, he's so close but he can't, he won't cum. Not without the taste of your cum down his throat, he outright refuses.

Pretty moans spilling from his lips, a vibrating undertone to them that just feels heavily against your pussy as he drives his tongue further inside you. Thumbing at your clit, kissing and making out with your wet hole, completely beyond the point of no return. Even if the world was ending he wouldn't move an inch away from your cunt.

Your moans, the sinful sounds you're making, they'll be his demise.

He needs you to cum, he's desperate.

His free hand stretches forward, gently taking hold of your round belly. That brings a hitch into your breath, he takes it as a good sign.

Soothingly rubbing circles around it, tracing the tips of his fingers alongside your stretch marks. A sensual experience that'd appear romantic and sweet to onlookers, wasn't it for the obscene sight of him eating out your pussy just down below, the shameless sounds of his moaning and sucking against your cunt, of the wetness he swallows.

You can't see his eyes with your swollen stomach in the way, left to helplessly lay there after you fed him all your milk, only to have your pussy eaten out next.

The orgasm has been building up very slowly ever since his finger first flicked your clit, simmering at low heat, gradually increasing in intensity. You're ever sure you had a mini-orgasm along the way somewhere, but you're not about to let him know.

Instead, you relish in the feeling of utter bliss this slowburn climax brings. It wasn't electrifying, nor like a bullet shooting through you.

No, it's intense like a ripple in the ocean, a wave so steady and silent as it approaches the shore. An impending pleasure that you've seen and anticipated from a mile away, less explosive with its instant gratification, and more akin to a heavy embrace, engulfing all of your being, fulfilling your every need. The kind of orgasms that leave you feeling whole afterwards, with a relaxed mellow demeanour rather than an overwhelmed spent mess.

And he gets to drink it all up, suffocate himself between your thighs as you go through the motions of climax. Leaving him both pussydrunk and milkdrunk, tugging at his leaking cock, rubbing the swollen pretty purple head. the aftertaste of your cum fresh on his tongue, while the warmth of your milk still sits in his stomach.

He's overwhelmed by your love through and through. Shiny eyes and bitten lips, he can't suppress his embarrassing cries any longer as he melts into a puddle between your thighs, burying his head into the doughy fat of your inner thigh as if it's his comfort plushie.

Stripes of adorable milky pink escape his cock, pretty lips shiny as he cums his brains out. Still fucking and grinding into his own fist. Your name at the tip of his tongue in between the choked moans, your face on his mind, your innocent human eyes, your whole angelic being is only further driving him into depravity.

He opens his tightly shut eyes.

He's alone in his room.

In the safe confines of his bed's sterile field. His environmental suit discarded outside the bubble, set on disinfecting mode.

The waves of the orgasm have passed. Slowy stroking his pulsing cock to relish in the aftermath, milking the very last droplets of rosy cum from it.

A content sigh leaves him.

He should really throw his sheets in the washer before they stain. The whole room reeks of sex... well, not that humans can really pick up on the scent of quarian cum. Last time you caught him sneaking to the laundry room in the middle of sleeping hours, ruined sheets in hand, you complimented his choice of "detergent" and said it's adorable that he prefers flowery fragrances.

Yeah... flowery fragrances. He didn't have the heart to tell you it was his spilled semen on those very same unwashed sheets you were innocently sniffing, thinking they just came fresh out of the wash cycle.

On the other hand, this really explains the uncomfortable feeling he'd get whenever passing by a human-owned flower shop on the Citadel.

He'd like to pretend that he's a better man, that his brain wasn't immediately flooded with shady ideas that take advantage of this new information, lewd at best, and immorally perverse at worst.

But he isn't a better man. He's not the gentle, thoughtful, and badass husband in his own fantasies.

He's even quite mid in his own species' terms of attractiveness. Yet you claim he is the epitome of beauty. Complimenting his galaxy-like dark skin, claiming his eyes rival the stars.

A cynical part of his mind tells him you only think that because he's the only quarian you've seen up close without an environmental suit, courtesy of your "kissing practice" days together to boost his immune system.

If you only knew what lurked underneath that delicate beauty. What degenerate thoughts brewed behind those iridescent eyes.

Sometimes, he takes advantage of your nativity, or more accurately, you let him get away with things that you wouldn't let slide for a human male.

You don't question his wandering hand; he's just a cute curious alien. You don't try to cover yourself after bumping into him while you're fresh out of the shower, even when the tantalisingly short towel you're wearing starts peeling off your body.

You can't see where his eyes are staring at from behind that helmet, the way they're completely focused on that peaking colour underneath the seam of your towel, where you have it loosely wrapped around your squished boobs, a hard nipple threatening to peak through while you're not the wiser, busy talking to him about some human work drama.

Normally, he is very invested in anything you have to say, but right now, he can't hear a single word.

You don't bat an eye when his hands immediately move to the upper edge of your towel, fingers catching the fabric before it completely gives out. His face burning a darker hue underneath his tinted helmet, trembling fingers as he fixes your towel for you, sparing your dignity.

As tempting as it was, a sight to behold that'll be etched into his brain for eternity. He really didn't want you to catch a cold. So he stepped over his own heart (and semi-hard cock) and ushered you to go dry off in your own room.

As sturdy and healthy humans have proven to be in comparison to his own kind, he still can't help but fuss over you, panic whenever you get a papercut, check on you every hour when you fall ill with a fever no matter what risk it puts him at.

He can only dream of having someone as healthy and capable as you carrying his children. Oh, how your body would nurture them. It's the perfect one for him and his seed.

You're just so capable and cool, so full of life and energy... he wants his kids to be like you. To have your milky looking human eyes, your earthly toned skin, this weird fur-thing you call hair. Even that he grew to adore with time.

Alas. Reality is calling. He will clean himself before leaving his room, finding you in the shared common room being chummy with the other aliens, because that's just how you humans are.

Your stomach is neither round nor swollen...

Your chest is the same size it's always been...

And he'll go over and say hi, like he always does. And you'll ask how his health has been faring, if there is anything you can do...

If the lessons have been helping.

And he'll answer yes with a chipper tone, voice slightly distorted by the filter of his helmet.

And the salarian and asari sitting on the opposite couch will give him that knowing side glance, because they know the truth, how much of a bullshit excuse these lessons are to make out with you.

But they'll say nothing. The asari would rather keep her trump card close to her chest until he has something she wants, and the salarian prefers to mind his own business, although he won't go through the effort of lying or if you directly asked him about the effect of the lessons.

#☆smut #☆quarians #☆human kink #☆humans #alien human kink #alien x reader #alien x human #mass effect x reader #afab reader #smut #quarian x reader #☆roommate quarian

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haedalkoo · 4 months ago

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Hey, how have you been? I wanted to ask you something if it’s not too much trouble.

I don’t know if you’ve had the chance to rewatch Hobi’s birthday Wlive with the official Weverse subtitles, but I have a question.

I know that pronouns in Korean can be a bit tricky, and because of that, Weverse/Hybe often translates things in a way that makes sense in another language, even if it’s not a word-for-word translation. But when Jimin, Jungkook, and Hobi were talking, Jimin said—according to Weverse subtitles—that since he doesn’t know how much he can/should share with us, he’s been staying away from ARMY on purpose.

My question is, was he talking about just himself or about him and Jungkook? Because I saw several translations on Twitter saying that Jimin actually said that since he and Jungkook don’t know how much they can share, they’ve been keeping their distance from the fandom. If it’s not too much trouble, could you explain the difference or share your opinion on it? Thanks in advance!

Hey!! This is a good question, and honestly a hard one to answer because it could be either way. Nothing in Jimin's speech indicates he's talking exclusively about himself, but he's not including the both of them explicitly in the sentence either. It's up to the listener to assume.

In my opinion, however, I think he may mean both of them. A couple of sentences before, he clearly says "there are seriously a lot of stories/anecdotes the two of us made" and the both of them go on to say they don't know how much they can share, and if they do, army may run away. I think what Jimin says about keeping their distance is a sentiment both of them share (my translation of what he says would be 'even though we're being careful and not seeking out armys so much, we really, really miss you.' It's a bit less harsh than 'keeping distant' imo).

Either way, one of the loveliest parts about Korean is that there's not a clear-cut distinction between the individual and the collective. What I feel, my brothers and sisters also feel. I could go into boring details about linguistics and the way languages shape society, but there's a reason why the use of 'we' and 'us' are so broadly and ambiguously used in korean, or why friends are referred by the same word as you'd refer to your actual brother or sister (I mean words like hyung, noona, etc.) This is surface level, or perhaps simply more obvious, but this sense of collectivism (what's yours is mine, what mine is yours) sneaks into every aspect of the way koreans speak.

That is to say, the line between 'me' and 'we' is far more blurred than it'd be in a language like English or Spanish. In Spanish you may ommit a pronoun, but the verb form gives all the information away ("estoy": 1st person, singular; "estamos": 1st person, plural). More so, I personally feel like Jimin would've specified in some way that he meant he's the one pulling away, instead of speaking for the two of them, if JK hadn't agreed with the decision. That, or JK would've bickered with him, scolding him for not greeting armys so often (tell me you can't picture this exact conversation!)

So it doesn't really matter that Jimin meant himself or the two of them, because honestly, can you really separate the two of them? The same people that give up on eating carbs if the other is on a diet even when they're on vacation, the same people that share an infinite number of inside jokes only the two of them understand, the same people that willingly enlisted together... everything about Kookmin, from their actions to their language choices, tell me that they exist in a tandem. 'You are me, I am you.'

#sorry i went into a big tangent lool idk if this actually answers your question #but i can't help but yap #ask #jikook #kookmin #jimin and jungkook #jikook and korean #minkook

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zyafics · 1 year ago

Text

PLAY FAKE | 12

MASTERLIST (Series)

Pairing — Rafe Cameron x Female Reader .ᐟ

Summary — When Rafe needs to secure a girlfriend for his father to see him as a viable candidate for Cameron Development, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.

Content — 18+, smut, angst, depictions of jealousy + aggression, emotional turmoil, mild descriptions of violence, and usage of drugs.

You had no choice. Newly orphaned with two acquired guardianship, on the brink of homelessness, you caved into desperation. You started to steal; pick-pocketing unsuspecting tourons and swiping valuables at island parties.

The latter is how you came across Aaron. He saw you stole from one of his clients and struck up a conversation. You thought you would be arrested, or done worse as retribution, but he gave you his number to contact. Said you could call him if you were strapped for some cash. When you learned more about him through JJ—and how Luke owed him money once, leading to a bad dispute that ended in the loss of his job and a black eye—you realized you were dealing with a bad guy.

The consensus was to stay away from Aaron because of his shady conduction of business and excessive use of violence. But you were in a deadlock. No one would offer you a loan because of your bad credit and you were on the cusp of losing your family's legacy. So, you did it.

Now, it's back to bite you in the ass. The reason why loan sharks are dangerous is their exorbitantly high interest rates and lack of regard for the law. If you're unable to pay them back within strict deadlines, they will double the initial amount you owe and go to extreme lengths to threaten friends and family for payback. It's a tactic that works best because you can't turn to the police.

When you finish your anecdote, the atmosphere falls into an eerily silence. You can hear the sound of a pin drop or the soft laughter of your sisters three doors down. You're perched on the end of Rafe's bed while he's leaning against his desk, back pressed against the counter, digesting your words.

Your throat feels dry. It wasn't even a long explanation but something about the way Rafe's watching you, his eyes never straying, and the lack of response afterward. You feel like you're burning under his gaze.

This must be how he felt when you were silent.

"Say something," you urge, voice smaller than intended. His eyes shift and observes the look on your face with an indiscernible expression.

"How much did you borrow?"

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth before answering. "30K."

"Jesus Christ," he mutters under his breath, exhaling sharply. Guilt gnaws at your stomach and your eyes pinch with a wave of sodden emotions. This is one of the reasons why you hesitate to tell him; you don't want him to take your burden as his.

You sigh tightly. "I told you it's bad."

"Does this mean you owe him sixty grand now?"

"No." You shake your head. "I paid back ten."

The numbers still aren't optimal. "So forty then?"

"No," You blurt out, before retracting. "I think. I–I don't know. He hasn't contacted me..." You trail off, not wanting to imagine your debt doubled. If you had paid the required amount, as scripted in your contract, within the due date, you would've been fine. Now, you're in an ambiguous grey zone with no clear direction on where to go next.

"But when he does?"

You look up from your crestfallen gaze to find Rafe's jaw set, his eyes searching your face. Frustration rolls off his strong demeanor, and you take it as a sign of his irritation—at your negligence—that you can't help but feel obligated to alleviate the feeling. "It's fine." You say evenly. "I'll figure it out."

"It's not that." He declares roughly, pinching the bridge of his nose, and exhaling another deep breath. Recognizing his own turbulent emotions are flaring, he doesn't want to take it out on you. "I offered you money. We could've avoided this. At the start of our deal, I offered you—"

You cut him off. "I know."

His expression is sharp. "Then why didn't you take it?"

"I—" You draw in shaky breath, fingers grabbing at the sheets beneath you and tightening them into fists. "I had a plan."

"You had a plan?" Rafe repeats, his voice dripping with disbelief. While he's trying to be patient with you, he can't gauge how your mind works. How it's so set on an independent mode that now—even now—you seem to want to do it all alone. "Does it look like your plan is working?"

This time, it came harsher than he intended, and he wanted to take it back immediately but it was too late. His words were laced with a certain venom that spewed onto you.

But instead of being upset, your own anger erupts.

"Were you going to drop 20K for a couple of fake dates?" You snap, standing from your own seat. You knew what you had done was moronic and you can't take it back but you did have a plan. When Rafe doesn't give you a proper answer, you take his silence as complicity. "Exactly. It would've been stupid on your end and I would've never agreed to such a ridiculous deal. I've already made that mistake once."

He knows you just called him stupid, but Rafe can't stop the rising smile on his lips. In your scorn, you're almost back to your old self.

"Why are you smiling?" You cross your arms, attempting to maintain your level of authority, but his grin broadens. "Stop it."

"I miss you."

Your heart stutters and all your momentum drops. Rafe uses the opportunity to cross the small distance and capture your face in his palm and you lean into his touch, shoulders sagging. You can't believe you're reduced to putty in his hands.

Trying to regain some sense of control, you avert your gaze from his face, and both your palms flatten against his chest. "You're mean, Rafe."

"I'm sorry, baby," he murmurs, running the pad of his thumb across your cheekbone. "What was your plan?"

Part of you didn't want to tell him, to withhold the information, but when he tilts your chin up to meet his eyes, the earnest look behind them shatters that desire. With your heart leaping in your throat, you explain slowly. "When you get Cameron Development, the plan was that I was gonna get a steady income as your regular caterer. Therefore, when payments were due, I would have a reliable source of income."

His breath hitches at the implication behind your words. Rafe's expression hardens. "That's dependent on me getting the company."

You keep his gaze. "I know."

"You based your entire plan on me?"

You can't exactly decipher the tone behind his sentence, and you feel the need to lower your gaze to his chest, grabbing a handful of his shirt. You mumble, "You make it sound like it's stupid."

"It's not—" He grabs your chin again, forcing your gaze up to his. Your eyes are soft and big, while his darkened one scans your face, trying to read your intent. He asks lowly, "You believe in me that much?"

Your voice is gentle when you answer. "Of course."

His heart sings. Rafe can't believe what he's hearing, or rather what he's not. It's the same subtle underlying language he's used to translating; the unspoken. Your entire plan is contingent on his success. That means your trust in him started since the beginning of our arrangement.

He never had someone who had that much faith in him that they would bet it all. It's an indescribable feeling, that's first met with doubt, before transforming into something else. To know someone is always in his corner, always rooting for his success, always believing in him.

Fuck.

He's in love with you.

His eyes stray to your lips and the urge to kiss you overwhelms him. His actions have always been better at demonstrating his emotions than his words ever can. But he resists with a couple of measured breaths. Then, he nods once. "Okay. We'll figure it out."

You're in a dazed state. "We?"

He doesn't want you to think you have to do this all alone. You have him now. "Yeah, but later. I can't focus right now."

Before you can seek clarification, his other hand cradles your cheek and Rafe slams his lips onto yours.

It catches you by surprise and a small moan slips out that Rafe swallows. He wants you. Mind, body, and soul. All of it—the taste of you, the feeling of your skin on his, your words against the column of his throat. He wants to feel you writhing beneath him with pleasure, to save all your best memories for him, and to know that you're completely and unequivocally his.

Rafe parts, just a breath of distance, and whispers against your swollen lips. "God, I miss you."

Your fingers thread through his hair. "I've been here."

His eyes are hungry. "Not what I meant."

He silences any reaction by resuming the kiss, forcing you backward against the bed, and your back lands on the mattress with a soft thump. Rafe hovers over you, his weight pressed comfortably against your body while he kisses you like a starved man.

Even if you don't say it, you missed him too. The feeling of him against you, your heart meeting his at precise beats. When Rafe moves to plant kisses along the curve of your neck, a small whine escapes you. You want to feel his lips on yours, to feel his warmth on your tongue, but he wants to satisfy every inch of you.

His hand starts to caress the hem of your shirt—his shirt—pushing up the fabric to reveal more of your exposed stomach to your bare breasts. With little words spoken, like a coordinated dance, you move enough for Rafe to pull the material completely off of you.

"Shit," he swears, taking a moment to take you in, "I'm never going to get used to this." Then, he descends to your nipples and captures one between his teeth.

You let out another moan, feeling his tongue swirl around your sensitive bud, clashing with the metal barbell. Your legs spread wider, allowing Rafe to slot between your thighs. The boxers he let you borrow are thin, and you feel his hardened erection rocking against your heated core.

Your fingers find the button of his jeans. "Rafe," you whisper, aching with desire. "I need this off."

"Need, huh?" He teases, his hot breath fans against the valley of your breasts and you shiver. "Tell me how much you need me, baby."

He wants to hear it all. Even if it's fake, even if it's just dirty talk spoken during sex. For a brief, fleeting moment, he wants to pretend you need him as much as he needs you.

You draw your hands up to cup either side of his face, forcing him off your tits and tilting his gaze to yours. "Rafe Cameron, I need you inside me. Badly."

Hearing the desperation behind your voice—and his name rolling off your tongue, Rafe removes his clothes and helps you out of yours. Before you have the chance to say anything else, Rafe's fingers are between your folds, spreading them apart, and a sound of satisfaction is heard from the back of his throat. "God, you're wet."

You are. Your arousal coats his digits, and with a slow stroke of his hand, your hips buck into his palm that rest against your clit.

"Rafe," you whine, knowing he's toying with you. His fingers stroke your pussy, but not enough pressure to give rise to your climax. "Inside, please. I'll be so good."

He grins and retracts his hand. When he lines his swollen cock against your entrance, he pauses for a moment. Rafe's eyes connect with yours. "Did you take your pill?"

When Rafe went out this early morning, with your sisters, he went to the pharmacy to pick up some birth control for you. It currently sits on his desk, opened and with one missing tablet. "I did."

"Good, I need to feel all of you."

Without another word, he thrusts into you, causing your back to arch off the mattress.

Rafe doesn't go hard and fast like normal but instead bends forward to capture your lips against his teeth. Your heart is hammering in your chest regardless, the feeling of your walls wrapped around him, the way he fills you—like a puzzle finding its missing piece—makes your head spin.

"Feel so fucking good," he whispers against your heated skin, his hand reaching out to take yours, intertwining with your fingers. "Can't believe I almost lost this."

You can't believe it either, but you couldn't say it. Rafe angles himself where his cock hits right against your cervix, causing your head to tip back and dig into the sheets, moaning wildly at the pleasure. Rafe easily kisses you to swallow the noise of your open mouth, reminding you that your sisters are just a couple of doors over.

You should care. You really should. But you don't. You need him. Closer. Harder. Faster. Your legs wrap around his torso, trapping him. "Need you," you whimper, as each thrust grows more choppy. "Need you so fucking bad, Rafe."

He can't control himself. Removing his constraint of trying to keep it sentimental, to keep it sweet. He loves how desperate you need him. How rough you want it. His pace quickens with the rut of his hips, and you feel the familiar white-hot pleasure searing through your body, climaxing.

"More," you beg, arms wrapped around his neck, fingers clawing against his back muscles. You're removing all the space between him and you, until there's nothing but skin-on-skin. "Please, more."

"Baby, I'll give you everything," he grunts breathily, scraping his teeth against the curve of your neck, hitting a sensitive spot that leaves you whining. "Everything and more if you'd let me."

Something about his words twists inside you and you come hard. Rafe feels you clenching around him, so tight, that it causes him to slow his thrust but the pleasure is unbearable. Easily, he follows after, coming inside you with the familiar hot cum filling you up.

Rafe lands on top of you, careful not to crush you under his weight. You welcome it, nonetheless, liking the way he presses against you. Both your breaths are heavy, clambering to catch up on missing air, and Rafe's still inside you. You like that too.

Your hands are still intertwined, and you're the first to retract from the hold to place your warm palm against the side of his profile, causing his head to lift to meet your gaze. He's settled between the valley of your breasts, his stubble tickling your skin, and you take the moment to lean forward and plant a chaste kiss on his lips.

It feels sentimental. Vulnerable. Almost too real.

"Okay, now get off," you say jokingly, undercutting the tension in the room. Rafe scoffs but listens, rolling off, slipping out of you. The loss of him makes you frown, but you quickly wipe away the expression as you turn on your side, facing him.

Rafe studies you. This time, the sex felt different. More. He'll never say it, in fear of it scaring you away, but he truly never felt as vulnerable as he did moments ago when he was inside you. The memories flooding through him could easily get him hard again, but he tries to distract himself, taking a strand of your hair between his fingers.

You smile softly, noting how mesmerized he is with your hair. Of the color and the texture. It draws you into your thoughts, and you're suddenly reminded of a question that's been stuck in your head for the past twenty-four hours.

You say his name, causing him to stop and look at you. "Why were you with Leila the other night?"

"She called me." He answers truthfully, and before you can question him further, he adds. "I was coming over anyways."

This surprises you. "You were?"

"Couldn't leave you like that."

"You didn't stop me."

"I know, I fucked that up," Rafe admits, eyes scanning over your face, trying to express his sincerity.

You study him, recognizing his truth, but you still have some doubts. Another question about your relationship hangs in the air, and as your lips part, Rafe recognizes the question before you even have the chance to ask.

"We're not broken up."

A sense of relief fills you, but there's also the remnant of heartache.

Your voice is soft. "I said a break."

"We're not doing that either."

You don't know if you can separate from him. You don't know if you want to. But you wanted this extra layer of protection, just in case. "If you were worried, I was still committed to doing all the things you needed with Ward—"

"I don't care." He sharply cuts you off. "If someone asks you who you're with, don't answer that it's complicated. It's not. You're with me, got it?"

He's addressing the moment when Kelce asked if you were in a relationship with Rafe and you answered vaguely. It must've been stuck in his mind. Rafe never set perimeters on who knows the truth behind your little farce, only that his father remains oblivious, but you guess it also extends to the rest of the Kook public.

You don't answer him, not wanting to taint the aftermath of good sex with discussions about logistics and labels. You want to enjoy the fleeting moment, even if it's all you get.

Rafe sees your silence and softens his voice. His hand cups the side of your face, brushing his thumb across your cheek. "You're mine, you know that?"

You do, but you don't think it's in the way Rafe realizes. The lines are so blurred, you don't know what's real or fake anymore. You don't know if this is a sentiment shared during intimacy or a parade with the public, or if he does want you. Asking for clarification has burned you twice and you'd rather not put yourself in that situation again.

You're silently asking Rafe to tell you more. To give you more words. To speak. If he reveals that he has feelings for you, telling you he wants you—truly wants you—beyond this arrangement, you would be his. All his.

But Rafe's never been the one to willingly talk and reveal things. You have to break an arm and a leg for him to consider giving you the time of day. You rather not break your heart too.

A banging on the locked bedroom door absolutes you from answering him. "Rafey!" Amara screams from the hallway, "You promised you'd see my dress!"

"Dress?" You turn away from the door. "What dress?"

Rafe says nothing, but the small smirk on his face reveals everything. "Rafe. What did you get them?"

You didn't go with your sisters on their early morning excursion with Rafe. You were too tired and were catching up on sleep. When you woke up, they were already back and had been gleefully locked away in the guest bedroom the entire afternoon.

"Don't worry about it."

Rafe slips off the bed and gets redressed while you watch. You admire the planes and ridges of his chest, and when he finishes, he picks your clothes off the floor and throws them at you, telling you to get up too.

You do, and after you're no longer bared and exposed on his king-sized bed, Rafe unlocks the door to reveal an impatient Amara standing behind the door. She's carrying a foreign doll between your arms; something handmade and name-branded, something she definitely didn't have before.

"Rafe..." You warn lowly, but it lacks the critical threat behind its tone. He just grins at your attempt, grabbing your hand and dragging you out of his bedroom. Amara leads you to the living room, where the registration of how much Rafe bought your sisters comes to light.

Scatters of large shopping bags, of various shops and boutiques you never heard the name of, litter across the floor. Leilani is sitting on one of the couches, messing with something in her hands. A phone. Amara’s ruffling through one of the bags, trying to find her dress.

You turn back to Rafe. "You got to be kidding."

"Just because you won't let me buy you nice things doesn't mean you should deprive your sisters of that opportunity," Rafe shrugs, taking a seat on the closest couch, and tugging you along. There's plenty of room on the cushioned chair, but Rafe decides to pull you onto his lap.

You don't even mind; you like your spot on his lap. His arm lazily wraps around your waist while your legs dangle off the side. While Amara recruited Leila along to search for their dresses—because they have that much stuff—Rafe playfully bites your exposed shoulder.

Finally finding their princess gowns and diamond tiaras, Amara grabs Leilani's hand and drags her off to the nearest bathroom. They're giggling while they skip away, bouncing on their feet, behaving the exact opposite of what you expected them to be after a traumatic experience.

"They're happy."

"Of course they are." He scoffs, "We spent the entire morning ransacking every store downtown, buying everything they set their eyes on."

You chuckle softly, and gratitude passes through you. "You didn't have to do that."

"Nah, I had to," Rafe slides you closer. "Got to stay on their good side, you know?"

You shake your head, hiding a smile. The sound of a door opening is heard and you turn to the source of the sound, expecting to see your sisters return with their costumes, but instead find the sudden appearance of Sarah Cameron standing in the middle of the foyer.

"Sarah." Rafe stiffens under you, surprise evident in his voice. "What are you doing here?"

"It's my house, Rafe," She says with the roll of her eyes.

"It hasn't been your house since you ran away three months ago," he snaps, a hardness to his words. "Where's your Pogue boyfriend now?"

She ignores her brother, shifting her attention to you. "Who are you?"

You feel like you're caught in the crossfire of their rivalry. Before you get the chance to answer, Rafe cuts in for you.

"She's my girlfriend," Rafe sneers, his arm tightening around your waist. "Which is none of your business."

"Gee, Rafe, really a great welcome home party," Sarah says sarcastically, adjusting the large bag over her shoulders, which you presumed is stuffed with her things. She looks back at you. "You're the Pogue my dad mentioned, right? The one who owns the bar near the docks?"

Something about the Cameron siblings minimizing you to a social class. Nonetheless, you nod. "Cool. Nice to meet you. I'm sorry you have to deal with that one," she points to her brother, who's shooting daggers at his little sister. She ignores the look. "Well, I hope you had a good... shopping trip. I'm going to go unpack."

Before you have a chance to correct her, she walks away, and Rafe shouts after her. "Don't unload too much, just in case you wanna run away again," he reminds, to which Sarah responds with a flip of her middle finger, turning onto the stairwell and disappearing.

You don't know how to deal with a Rafe post-Sarah, especially because you've heard of his long-winded rambles about the golden child. You don't even want to step into it, because what Rafe feels for his younger sister is none of your business. It's his complicated family. You can't fix that.

Instead, you pull him back to Earth, turning his head away and tilting his gaze back onto you. His heated eyes, darkened and full of resentment and anger, soften upon meeting yours, and you wrap your arms around his neck.

Leaning into him, the both of you say nothing, doing nothing, until Amara and Leilani emerge from the dressing room with glamorous princess gowns and a crown over their head. Then, they did a little show for you.

The moments spent with you make him forget about his issue with his sister. With her return and what it means to the company. Who earns in favor with their father.

She’ll be a problem for another day.

Not realizing how true those words will be.

IMPORTANT INFO ABOUT TAGLIST AND UPDATES: if you want to be notified about all my fics and updates, follow @zyafics-library and turn on notifications! however, if you want to be added to this specific taglist, let me know (but to remain tagged, you must interact with the posts).

TAGLIST FOR PF: @uraesthete / @maybankslover / @trshngyn / @irides-solstice / @groovycass / @emmalandry / @rivaiken / @outlawedmando / @ditzyzombiesblog / @mattyskies / @sunshinepanic / @too-deviant / @rafesgiirl / @vvvhack / @rafestaurusgf / @cami-is-reading / @peachesmilk / @whore4fictionalman / @artemiswinnick / @janediazwindsor / @pandora-rosier1 / @solanathascientst / @itshellie / @grace-sully / @loveyouok / @tayrcse / @mysteris-things / @ella131989 / @starrkissezz / @sanriobuny / @chopshopcheesecake / @fentyxmalik / @fleets-world / @supernaturalwriter / @taylorsmissamericanna / @hehelollmao / @lac0nically / @elysiasshit / @kravitzwhore / @tommysaxes / @ma-yang / @carolinaxvz / @bandsbooks / @sourjoonie / @rafemotherfuckingcameron / @mintforadollar / @ihe4rttwd

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