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screampied · 1 year ago

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‘ ONE OF HIS GIRLSSSS ! ,

ᡴꪫ‎ sum. toji ends up finding out maybe his best friend's daughter isn’t so innocent after all once he walks in on you and your precious 12k viewers. he grows amused by your little side hustle as a cam girl. but actually, maybe having him as a special guest wasn’t so bad. (girl it was)

wc. 6k

warnings. fem! reader, vōyerism, dad's best friend! toji, age gap (reader is over twenty), unprotected, praise, dirty talk, squírting, cunnílingus, slight dumbification, impact play, size kink, spit.

dbf! toji masterlist

“guys, i’m serious,” you’d utter, your monitor staring right back at you — a full live audience of over twelve thousand eyes listening to you speak. you were cooped up in your room, slouching on your chair with your legs pressed together. “he’s totally real. we even almost got caught one time.”

you were referring to your dad’s best friend, toji…

just muttering his name aloud made you feel all sorts of tingles. oh, to think how that 'one time' was just about three days ago. you still remember everything like it just happened, the intoxicating taste of toji’s lips, his unforgettable loud cologne scent, how fucking mean he was, you missed him, who were you even kidding. last time you checked, him and your father went out somewhere. you didn’t bother to care where, probably fishing or something.

skimming through the plethora of donations with filthy questions, thirsty provocative questions that desperately craved your attention, you read one, “how is he in bed, oh—well,” and you squeeze your thighs before re-adjusting your screen. “he’s okay. i had to fake my orgasms a few times though, figures ‘cause he’s kinda old.”

“oh yeah?”

as if on cue, there toji stood—right outside your doorway, hands buried in his deep roots of pockets and that same unreadable expression. he’s sending you straight daggers, you crane your neck to glance at him before you panic, “uh, i’ll talk to you guys later.”

“nah keep that shit on, girl,” he shakes his head, trodding his bare feet towards you. you mentally face palm. you could have sworn he was out somewhere with your father. “just when i thought ya couldn’t get even freakier,” he mutters, and he’s now behind you—green irises peering at your monitor. the chat suddenly spams with some of your audience lusting over toji, wondering if he’s a special guest. “heyyy,” he says to the screen, his voice was a pitchy low and then you gasp once he throws an arm around you. “is he a special guest?” and then he turns to you with a sly grin. “i don’t know, princess . . am i?”

“. . . i mean i guess,” you speak, not even realizing how your tone softens a bit. this always happened, whenever you were just a few feet away from toji, you’d feel so tense. it’s officially been a week since the two of you were screwing around—you hadn’t gotten caught, at least you think you haven’t gotten caught. the thrill of it all though, it was enticing. he eyes your little set up and he’s amused more than anything. “this is the guy i was telling you guys about,” you avert your dilated pupils back towards the bright screen. “this is . . . toji.”

“heh yo,” he scoffs at the screen with a greet, seeing how your confidence fades the moment he’s in the room with you. toji leans beside you, eyeing the lewd comments before one catches his eye. “tell him to turn around. what for?”

you sheepishly grin at the webcam, knowing some of your aroused fans wanted to take a quick peek at toji’s ass. to be fair, you couldn’t exactly blame them. you stare a bit yourself, and it was definitely. . . something.

three new tips from mod gojoclitoru: girl bye he looks like he doesn’t shower

wormfucker69: he looks like the guy who works @ my cleaners lol

shokostrapdestroyer: Where’s Shoko ?????

kanyeastinfection: Soooo hawt ;)

iloveosamudazai: i miss nanamin

“how come y’er all shy? i heard what you’ve been saying ‘bout me, y’know,” toji mumbles. he stands tall, cracking his neck towards the left. his entire frame, he was always so handsome. you take a moment to glance up at him, his perfectly chiseled physique. he looked like he was about to head to the gym, he had on a simple wife beater with dingy grey sweats. his gaze he had towards you was purely tantalizing. “. . ah,” he inches closer towards you, bending down as you sat on the office chair, getting right up close to your face. “why don’t you repeat that last bit for me. you fake your orgasms with this old man?”

“i didn’t ….” you trail off, trying to come up with some excuse. suddenly, it felt hot. you felt hot.

your heart starts to race the more he stared you down. the chat was going at a much more rapid speed, it’s like your viewer count doubled the moment toji entered. then you thought—maybe this would do you some good, having him as a special guest didn’t seem so bad.

he lightly grabs your chin, making you peer straight into his eyes. “i stay away from you for three days ‘n it seems like you forgot how to act.”

toji did have a point precisely, for the last three days you basically had the entire house to yourself. him and your father went out to some business trip, you missed him though.

of course, if you tagged along you’d be sure you’d both get caught so you just offered to watch over the house. it was as if the more time you spent with toji, the more you started to feel something.

you didn’t know what it was, it was hard to put into detail, put into pure words—but you knew for certain, you didn’t wanna stop seeing him. it was spring break after all…

“i meant what i said,” you mutter.

while returning his gaze, toji’s eyes widen for a bit, off guard by your sudden switch of attitude. you had a bit of a plan, you decided if you played along, your sweet thousands of fans would eat it up. and they were, the repetitive high-pitch sounds of constant donations rang through your ears before you continue to speak. “i faked everything, toji.”

his eyes linger into you for a long time before he drags a thumb down your lip. “well shit. that so?” and his voice—it pitches a dangerous tune. you already start to feel your thighs squeeze together more tightly. “mhm,” he grunts, watching you nod your head in response. he scoffs to himself before grumbling. “maybe i should make it more real for you then.”

with such simple words, trust and believe he does.

toji’s way of making it more real was to simply have you ride his face, all in front of your audience too.

for some reason, you felt burning up coming to the sheer realization that literally all eyes were simply on you. a quick glance at your blue light monitor and the viewer count displayed a hefty whopping amount of 12,295. all you could think about it was the hefty bank you were about to make.

your legs quaver as toji’s laid flat on your old bed, having you take your seat right on his face — his breath is hot as he runs his tongue alongside your inner thighs before giving you a stare. “eyes down here, not them,” he snarls, and you moan once he spanks your pre-soaked clit, your panties still attached. “they aren’t about to fuckin’ eat you out, are they?”

“n—no,” you murmur out, looking down back at him and he slowly runs a fat thumb down your slit.

oh, you were soaked alright.

a cute little damp spot between the middle part of your underwear makes an appearance and he slides his tongue all against it. he’s so slow with it all, making sure to take his time to make you pout out for him. “toji,” you mumble, feeling your tummy sink in before you huff out a single breath. he’s still so attractive, even underneath you—a little yet nice amount of facial hair scatters near certain parts of his face. scattered specks of brief darkened hair near his sharp jaw paint his face like an empty canvas. you run a finger against his chin and he shoots you a sleazy grin. “hurry up, toji.”

dark eyes flicker back towards you before he gifts your sopping pussy a mean spank. “hurry up toji,” he mocks your tone. you melodically whimper, watching as he licks a single stripe between your covered slit. “shut the fuck up. ‘m gonna take my time with you since apparently you ‘fake’ everything.”

you couldn’t help but merely slip out a giggle, your comment really offended him in some way. obviously, you were joking though—you and toji both knew he knew how to snatch multiple orgasms out of you at once. he was quite a skilled man without question, with his tongue—his dick, literally anything.

although, you snap out of your salacious thoughts the moment you feel him latch his tongue against your folds. it took you a minute to realize your panties were already off, he practically ripped them off and he was already digging in. you whimper, hovering your weight over his face before staring at the lit up monitor.

BIGDICKKUNA: Even my domain has better camera quality than this

gojoclitoru: here sukuna go…

FOXYKITTEN2940: clean up aisle my pants >.<

you’re starting to grind against his face, a hand combing through his hair before your bite your lip. toji stares at you, dragging a thumb down your puffy slit before leaning back to spit on it. he was always such a sloppy man—no shame in the world. you’d feel yourself pulsate whenever he did that, departing his lips away from your cunt before collecting a good wad of saliva to coat your folds with such a sheeny translucent color.

squelch after squelch, undeniably you were sopping. his nose briefly prods against your nub and you whine once he finally starts to actually eat you out.

“f-fuckkk.” you’d breathe, intaking a sharp breath. sudden dizziness overtook you—a thrum escapes from your sheeny lips as you rock your hips forward. it was hypnotic, the way you move against his mouth. toji looked so pretty underneath you too. his eyes, so hooded and half lidded—such a hungry gaze, a starved animal. he starts tantalizingly slow at first, making sure to lay the flat of his tongue against your entrance before simply digging in.

side—to—side, his head continues to swiftly shift and move as he’s devouring his meal, a thumb continues to strum against your slick arousal before he starts to suck, suck, suck.

candy, a perfect way to describe your taste in toji’s humblest opinion. he could never get enough, a few long strands of his hair tickles against your thighs as he resumes his sloppy eating. “mhm. pull on it.” he says between hot breaths, and you feel a sudden fire ignite inside of you. you knew immediately he was referring to his hair. such ruffled, messy strands desperately awaiting to be tugged by your fingers.

so you do—you take a good grab, lightly yanking him forward and he grunts.

“. . harder,” he rasps, and he’s already starting to look blissed out. eyes all glazed over, you wriggle over his face before you feel a sudden shiver overtake you. you pull harder and his face goes right against your cunt. you sloppily swipe against his nose like a credit card and he smirks at you. “that’s what ‘m talking about. ride my face, girl.”

his words, his filthy vulgarly words guide you through it all.

each pulse makes you twitch even more—each breath that runs out your mouth feels like it’s going to be your last, especially with a tongue like toji’s. he makes sure not to miss a drop, slurping quite everything out of you. he was a man—not necessarily a clean one, but he was never scared of a little mess. you start to coat the bottom part of his chin with your slit, it’s glistening so much.

after a while, toji’s already drunk off of your sweetened taste. every few flicks of his tongue against your nub makes cute whimpers coo out your throat and you only tighten the grip against his hair.

“r-right there, ‘s good when you suck there, toji.”

“cause i know what the fuck ‘m doing.” he grumbles back, bringing his same thumb to slide down your slit. he repeats it again and again. smearing your own mess right back on you, only to clean it up. he was a messy man, and with a tasty pussy that you had—you only made him ten times messier.

he was never one to complain though, toji’s the type to never say thank you—he shows you how grateful he is, it involves with being between your legs.

toji fushiguro…

a sleazy man without a single care in the word, maybe messing around his with best friend’s daughter slash colleague was a bit taboo. but did he care—no, was he gonna stop doing it—no, was he perhaps catching feelings for you the more time he spends with you? were you catching feelings?

. . .

unanswered questions, even if you asked yourself that question, you honestly couldn’t even know how to reply. the two of you never really labeled anything, so this was just a simple spring break fling right?

once courses resume and you go back to your well prestige university your father got you into due to connections, that’d probably be the last you’d see of him. toji fushiguro, the man you’ve been screwing around with for the past almost two weeks. it’s almost safe to say that you started to get attached to his presence—sometimes it’s like the two of you didn’t even care if you got caught. there was literally a time where toji fingered you under the table during dinner.

that was . . embarrassing.

the way you were trying to withhold a conversation with your father—he’s just rambling you about what a boring day he had at the office and you’re over here gushing on his best friend’s fingers. you find yourself thinking about that specific moment all too well—as well as the various other ones, him fucking you on the hood of his car, in the living room, and even the bathroom—which your panties ended up getting found.

oops.

“told you to keep those fuckin’ eyes on me,” he hoarsely rasps—snapping you out of your lewd reminiscing fantasm. his tongue, it’s swirling all against your clit as you focus your attention back towards him. with two big hands, he holds your jerky hips steady—feeling you rut against his mouth before he feels you pulse right in his mouth. “yeah.” he mutters, bringing two digits to prod towards your slick entrance. you whine, feeling him slowly insert them with ease—so wet, he was almost in awe at how you were dripping like a faucet. not even a faucet could compare nor describe how sodden your sweet cunt was. each lap he makes with his tongue gets more filthy, it turns into sucking before you’re practically spasming all over again.

you moan, hands still tight and rigidly tangled within his strands before you take a quick peek at your laptop. so many eyes were on you—so many more eyes now, the count was steadily doubling, the donations you were receiving made your mouth nearly water. tip after tip, your pupils turned into green dollar signs. this was probably the most viewers you had in the entirety of your little cam girl side hustle.

all thanks to toji.

you’re getting close, it’s inevitable—especially with the way your hips continue to rock back and forth. a cute rhythm he got accustomed to, toji brings two rough hands towards the fat mounds of your ass before squeezing it. he was always a handsy man, feeling all over your body. green pools of eyes stare right at you as you’re intaking each staggering breath that escapes your spit-glossed lips. “c-close, toji,” you’d babble out, your knees almost buckle—a sudden twinge pouring into your lower abdomen before you mewl. “gonna—cum, gonna—”

“baby hold it,” he says sternly, the base in his voice never failing to make you wet. he breaks his lips away for a moment before he glances at the screen—an upside down position. “hm. chat, should the pretty girl finish early?”

your heart drops—you knew how many trolls you had in your audience, and before you could cutely tell him to just let you climax, he hums in amusement at the incoming flood of comments.

chososbootylicker29: Petition to have Toji oiled and cheeked up

zorosballswallower: NOOOOO

anonymoususer: dad?

gojoclitoru: lol no.

and with many others the comments continue to flood.

majority of the answers being no—you hated being edged, loathed it. especially with toji because he was so damn mean. he snickers, reading the responses upside down before you feel the two tips of his fingers shove way deep inside you. your back arches and you whine ore he holds your hips in place with a single hand. “looks like y’er little fans want you to wait pretty girl,” and you look down at him with a cute glare—his lips depart and his entire mouth from the very bottom of his chin was damp. even still, he looked so attractive. “cute. a glare ain’t gonna change nothing though,” and a pout shortly stretched against your lips as he runs his tongue near your frantic pulsing clit. he brings a spank to it and it makes you whine. “be a good girl ‘n wait a little longer.”

“i can’t,” you frown out, and that only earns another sharp spank towards your folds.

“yes you fuckin’ can,” and you start to whine once he stops eating you out. it felt so warm, all of a sudden the cold air wafts against your skin and you shudder. toji loves more than anything to spank your pussy whilst staring right into your eyes. “if i tell my girl to wait, she’s gonna wait.”

my girl…

for some reason, that made your pulsing ten times worse, a plethora of butterflies arise inside your stomach and you’re still just hovering over his face.

he palpates his fingers—not his tongue to rummage all inside your cunt, you frown cutely. you wanted his tongue, not his stubby thick fingers. although, the thing you wanted most was to finish. as you grind against his face, you feel his infamous scar run against your pussy and it tickles. it tickles in such a way that it drags out a sweet crying moan from you.

“t—toji,” you start to grow impatient. he’s just teasing you, blowing against your folds with warm breath, swiping his nose alongside your sopping entrance, anything but tasting you again. he likes seeing you like this, on the brink of tears because you got denied a climax. it started to come closer and closer until once it was finally there—you puff up your cheeks for a split second before moaning. “g-god, i can’t hold it. ‘m gonna cummm.”

“wait,” he utters in a husky rasp, watching as you quaveringly hover over his face—chin just soaked with your arousal, he licks the bottom of his lip before tittering at you. “you finish when i’m ready.”

“f-fuck you,” you whimper, and you end up cumming anyway—he’s taken aback but it only arouses him even more. the brat, oh the brat that you were. one of the many things he liked about you, you were submissive but not entirely—you had a backbone, you talked back to him, you even had the nerve to roll those pretty eyes at him.

it hits you like a semi-truck.

illegal full speed, the brakes were had to step on and you feel it just strike right into you at full force. your orgasm, you scoot your hips forward against his mouth and now he’s the one glaring at you. toji laps up all of you, two fingers spreading your clit apart before he spits on it again. “you just don’t listen, huh,” and his voice was even lower than it was before—a rich baritone lingering underneath it. you’re riding out your climax when he lightly shoves you on the bed.

in your mind, you’re thinking . .

finally, the good part.

toji grimaces at the cute smile that goes against your lips. you’re eager just as him— not to mention, it’s been three days since he’s touched you. “don’t get too excited, brat,” he grumbles with a scowl tugging the corners of his mouth. he plops onto the bed before staring down at you. “bend the fuck over for me. fake orgasm my ass.”

so blunt, you immensely comply—so impatient for him to just be inside of you.

the piles of donations triple by this point, and you try to take a peep at your screen before he spanks your ass. “ass up, face down little girl. don’t got all day.”

“sorryyy,” you giggle with a mere eye roll.

testing toji’s patience was always so fun for you. for whatever reason, getting on his nerves really turned you on. once you finally bend over for him, two hands grab the fats of your ass and you bite your lip once he prepares to align himself. you’re facing your bright lit screen.

the comments talking more about toji than you and you pout . . . figures though. he’s hot, no wonder all the attention would be on him instead of you.

with his right hand, he wraps it around his thick length before rubbing his tip against your pre-drenched entrance. he grunts, witnessing how your pussy tries to swallow him so easily…

you’re puckering, awaiting for him to stuff you full as you’re slump right into the mattress. “but sweetheart, y’er not sorry,” he grunts, smacking his fat tip against your slick folds. a soft mewl runs out the back of your throat before you arch just a bit more. with another spank, he snarls in a huff, “not gonna fuck ya that easy. y’er gonna have to use those manners if you wanna get what you want.”

“huh?”

“huh?” he mocks, kissing your ass with another spank from his palm. “you can’t hear? speak, girl. talk ‘ta me nice.”

glossy eyes of yours avert towards your screen, everyone’s lusting over toji and it only fuels his ego even more—you easily felt yourself throb, a pout never leaving your lips before you inhale.

“please . . ” you start, feeling him softly drag a hand against your curves, your physique. his touch always had you weak, taking in every part of your frame. all his . . just for these few weeks.

“please what?”

“please f—fuck me,” you grumble, and you’re growing more and more irritated—he hums to himself, amused. each second you spend speaking, each second he could be inside of you. you and him both knew that.

toji rubs his leaky tip with a bit more pressure against your pussy, just a a little more and he’d be inside. you started to feel your mouth salivate before you start to whine. “hm,” he ponders to himself, green eyes occasionally staring at the laptop that had about hundreds of comments spamming per second. “fine. i feel like bein’ nice to you today, especially since i haven’t seen my girl in a hot minute,” and again, he refers to you as his girl. it sends an unfamiliar feeling of butterflies brewing up in your stomach before he spanks you for probably the umpteenth time now. “now, arch a liiiitle more ‘n stare at your fans for me, yeah.”

you’re propped on the mattress with your ass all up in the air. from your screen as you stare at it, you spot toji’s mirroring reflection. that sly smile that slowly and gradually forms against his lips.

“lie the fuck down.” he mutters, feeling you try to sit up. you do, intaking a single breath before you feel him huff out a low puff. toji’s eyes stare right at your ass, he takes every moment in. the way you suck him in, it’s just filthy. the saturated squelches that shortly follow afterward—so filthy.

a six letter word to perfectly describe this entire situation.

arched over for your dad’s best friend, who would have thought—not you, not in a million years.

“ . . . shit,” he pants, and you’re so wet. you moan, pawing at the fat silk sheets in front of you. so many flooded comments of your audience merely thirsting over toji, wishing desperately that they were in your position. ( . . quite literally . . )

and toji’s just so fucking big.

he’s got a lofty height of inches under his belt.

metaphorically speaking—just a single sharp thrust and you’re speechless.

the wind gets snatched out of your lungs and it’s so vigorous that your head’s spinning. this entire angle, he’s got you right where he wants you—on all fours with your ass perked up. toji can’t keep his hands to himself anyway, his hands roam all over your waist before holding both hips in place. clammy hands just about stick to your skin before he starts to create a decent pace.

a slow pace — a slow pace that turns more mean.

languidly, you feel yourself leaning to his touch as he runs a hand down your spine.

toji brings one leg up to deepen the position and not even moments later, your lips part.

“t—toji . . ah ah,” and you don’t even recognize yourself. he repositions himself for a split second, making haste with his hips before sliding his feet right past your knees. with this, it’s more stimulation and you feel it all. just the right amount of pressure, his balls sharply thwack against your ass and it makes your mind cloud up with fuzz.

“. . damn,” he groans, a hand grabbing towards the back of your university hoodie. as he leans forward, dark viridescent colored pupils stare at your rear. the way it jerks and recoils against him, everytime . . it’s the best part. even more when he spanks it, deepening his hips against your cunt to earn out a cute whine or two from you. for what seemed like the millionth time, toji kisses the right cheek of your ass with various spanks. the sting has you gnawing on your lip like it’s candy, curling your toes up with a few droplets of sweat coating the bridge of your nose. “missed this pussy, three days too fuckin’ long, brat.”

“i missed you t—.”

“girl hello? i wasn’t talking to you.”

you frown, and it follows from a snicker from him.

“. . . so dramatic,” he’d eye roll once he hears you blow out a cute sigh. “fine, i did miss you,” and that was only a half lie. you knew in actuality, he missed what’s between your legs. toji still remained sassy as usual, it never left and it’d always stay. he’s buried all into you, deep to the hilt that each time his angry reddened tip drives against that spot, you squeal out in sweet pleasure.

it didn’t take him long to locate it, your g-spot. after a while you start to feel your pussy open, spreading wide—gaping. he was so ridiculously big, it’s leaving such question marks floating over your forehead because how can someone be this thick.

with a gruff—toji groans, veins bulging through his veins as he yanks your hoodie forward into him. he’s lenient, at least for a good while. letting you have your fun, get drunk off his cock before he edges you a more . . . oh just maybe.

gojoclitoru: does anyone want the link to my only fans :(

willbang4curses: Idk who I wanna be more…

iamnotsugurugetoseriouslyiamnothim: i want your only fans @/gojoclitoru

hotpeach03: Toji please I’m a single mom

your chat continues to spate, it’s so much that as your eyes watch them all flood down the logs, you could barely read the words.

he’s so deep inside, you’re almost drooling.

the stretch—he always leaves you so full, lips all parted and that same gaping mouth opening. pant after pant, you’re heaving heavily with your chest feeling tight and warm. “so deep,” you’d shriek, and he makes your arch lower just a bit further. he’s hitting all the right spots, not missing a single area. his dick retreats as it pulls out, then back again—twitching all inside of your cunt, he lunges forward with his hips before making you plop on your chest. “. . . .ohmygodohmygoddd,” and you were so whiney, you still can’t believe such pathetic noises slither past your damp lips. engulfed with your warm gummy walls squeezing him tight, he spanks you again . . . and again, and again.

“miss me that bad, huh?” he starts to speak. his voice was a pitchy rasp. a gruff base hides underneath it and you can hear the grit lingering like he needs to clear his throat. nevertheless, you throb anyway as he’s jackhammering his cock right into your swollen cunt over, and over, and over. “that why ya keep walkin’ around with these outfits? with no fuckin’ panties underneath, yeah?”

“forgot,” you whimper, shuddering once you feel toji grow playful. he trails his thumb towards your neglected puckering hole, fiddling with it just to get a reaction out of you, and he does. “s-sorry, ‘m sorry.”

“you don’t just forget to put panties on, slut,” he groans, and he feels himself approaching soon. it’s at the tip of his tongue—he feels the burn arise in the lower parts of his thighs, veins contouring to bulge all throughout his body. “wonder what y’er old man would think. ya only pull this shit ‘cause ‘s just you ‘n me here.”

he was right.

then again—if you’d have your father here, you’d never pull a bold stunt like that.

you’d rather drop dead than save yourself the embarrassment. funny though, considering the amount of times you almost got caught.

“so . . ” you mumble, and that’s when he presses his weight right against you this time. ah, prone bone.

you were really in for it now, thickly you swallow before his weight merely hovers over your ass, really deep in you this time.

he vigorously rams his thick cock into your sweltering cunt that’s hugging him oh so tight. he’s such a tease too—using every few chances he gets to poke and gingerly rub a thumb against your pulsating hole.

sweet moans die from your throat as you’re clinging onto the bed—such force that the springs nearly collapse from the whopping amounts of weight creating sheer impact. each thrust, it rings rapidly throughout your ears before toji groans. “f—fuck,” he’d groan, ignoring your little attempts of pure bratiness. you were at your wits end, smothering your glossed lips together before you feel his rounded cockhead mash against your most forbidden spots. spots that was so deep inside the inner areas of your cunt that it makes you mewl out in pure ecstasy. “gonna make me fill you up, princess,” he huffs out, tugging even tighter on the bottom part of your cerulean blue pull over. “s—shit,” and his gruff voice pitches time and time again. for a moment, you think you can hear toji whimper. it was real subtle though, but you heard it. loud and clearly. “gonna take it like you always do?”

“yesyesyes,” you nod—words pouring out of your lips like a waterfall, kneading your fingers into your palms as you bawled up the bedsheets right into your hands. with hooded droopy eyes, you stare at the screen with a dumb expression—he then takes the opportunity to get closer, grabbing you by the hair before holding your head up in front of your thousands of viewers.

“yes what, girl.”

you whine, feeling how perfectly his dick mashed throughout your folds—so easy for him, he was so thick that the stretch was simply immaculate.

“yesss, ‘m gonna take your c-cum, toji,” you’d pant, feeling your own eyes roll backwards—you probably looked a mess in front of your own thirteen thousand viewers, but you could care less. all that your empty brain could fathom was how you were ludicrously stuffed with his hefty cock. he’s drilling into you so good that that it almost feels like a massage. rough fingers run down your spine with one hand, another holding your head by the hair like it’s a prized possession before you whimper. “fuck me, fuck me, fuh—”

toji slaps a hand over your mouth the minute he hears something from downstairs—sure enough, it had to be your father.

shit.

he must have came home early. you remember him mentioning to you he was taking a trip to the corner store after work, probably to get some booze for him and toji to enjoy for some dumb football game.

“honeyyy? you up there?”

you moan, almost feeling your eyelids grow heavy as he’s still holding your head up in front of your laptop—his reflection in the screen just pounding into you at full speed.

already, you’re coating the back of his hand with nothing but your damp saliva—such a dirty girl, preferably his dirty girl.

maybe you were a bit delusional, no. you were very delusional—maybe this could go somewhere? then. again, it was no secret on how toji’s only around to get his dick wet, a reality that you forevermore choose to ignore—until you’d soon find out how that would bite you in the ass later on.

dead silence—you’re just muffling out mewls right into his mouth, and as if on cue, toji ends up finishing inside of you. it’s so much, velvety ropes of hot nut that fill the very insides of your pussy, shooting straight into your womb that your tummy flutters. it’s so much to where it spews out of your hole, he’s gotta poke his thumb in and swipe some out with the way it continues to leak. it’s so dirty, then again—toji fushiguro was a dirty man, the dirtiest.

“are ya gonna reply ‘n let y’er old man know you’re getting off his best friend’s cock or . . ?”

his words, such a tease that he’s still slowly pumping into you. gradually but slow, he plugs into your walls—seeping with cum that oozes out of your folds and you stare at the screen with a cute cock-drunken expression. “mmph,” was your reply, the only reply you could formulate since his big hand almost covered your entire face. so you give him a concise nod, hooded eyes feeling dry from staring at the screen for so many amount of minutes.

eventually, your father leaves and returns back to what he was doing . . . phew.

“that’s right,” he whispers in a low risqué tone, bringing a kiss towards the left part of your neck.

so tender—you’re gathering the strength to sit up but you end up slumping forward. with a pathetic, ‘oof’ you land on your chest, your own climax at the very edge. it’s cute because you end up finishing around the same time—your chest feels heavy, lungs tightly collapsing and all. the perfect way to describe your orgasm was a bomb—a bomb that was ticking and ticking, preparing to detonate before it finally does. instead, the destruction was you squirting, all over toji’s dick that stuffed you full. he’s so close up to your ear, hot breath fanning against your earlobe before he continues to speak. “. . oh, y’er fuckin’ dumb right now, aren’t ya. can barely speak.” and he removes his hand to where a trail of your spit departs. so lewd, you’re spasming from your recent release before with a quick glance—you stare at your monitor. you surpassed your tip goal by a huge milestone, yet like toji said—you were too dumb to even process let alone acknowledge it.

“t—toji,” you whimper, feeling the remnants of his sweet and savory seed pour down the crevices of your thighs. it was sticky, sticking to your skin like glue, sweltering of its entirety.

“come here, princess.”

it surprised you. for once, he was being . . . soft.

you reach backwards, closing your laptop before leaning right into toji. you moan, feeling his beefy ripped arms wrap around you, bringing you right into his embrace. bulky arms go around your waist and he pulls you into a sloppily heated kiss.

simultaneously, your heart skips a few beats—a few, probably an understatement. he tastes sweet, you could make out a brief tang of liquor on his tongue—a taste you didn’t want to ever forget. as your tongue rummages against his, you moan once he gets a bit handsy, a hand going right between your legs to feel the mess he made. the mess you made yourself also.

breathy pants could be heard from your lips as you press your dampish perspiring hands all on his bare chest. he’s wearing a somewhat of a formal shirt — you tug on his collar, yearning for him to come closer, to touch you more, hold you more. something, whatever it was was just brewing up inside of the very depths, the very pits of your stomach.

toji groans, the warmth of his breath wafting against yours before he pulls you away to get a good glimpse of you. a big hand holds your waist, and his eyes peer into you for a long time before as if he hesitates—he kisses the top of your forehead, only to stare away with a scowl.

“. . . toji,” you murmur, and by this point you weren’t speaking with your brain—more so with your heart. it was apparent, especially with the way your droopy hooded eyes suddenly soften the moment you speak out the two syllables in his name.

“let me speak first.” he grouses, a thumb stringing alongside your back, gently strumming against your skin. with the way you gazed at him, making him lie back before aligning yourself, it was clear as day that you wanted more of him. he leans back, long strands of black hair run down his face with his legs sprawled before he prepares to finish.

you straddle him, sitting flat on his lap and he’s so warm—he’s a bit flustered, flaccid from his release and of course a bit sensitive. it’s quite rare to see toji in such a . . . vulnerable state. perhaps you soften him in a few ways or less. at least, that’s what you’d like to think.

it takes him a long time to formulate the words, it’s as if his tongue was tied—weird for him considering it’s toji, he’s always direct and blunt.

and yet for once, you have him speechless.

toji lets off a irritated sigh before while what seems like forever, he mutters out a gruff, “shit. i . . i think ‘m in love with you.”

“ . . . ”

#★vegasbaby.#toji smut #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro smut #fushiguro toji x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #female reader #anime smut #cw sex mention

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milfgyuu · 1 year ago

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Hot Wheels [M] Pairing: Kim Mingyu x Fem!Reader Tags: 15.9k, 90's AU, Co-Workers to Lovers, Fluff, Humor, Smut 18+ Collab: Now That's 90's Summary: There has been something brewing between you and your part-time co-worker (full-time hottie), Kim Mingyu. Endlessly flirting on the clock at Wheelies, making out in the back of the movie theater, rolling around in the sand with a mighty good man...no other 90's dreamboat could ever compare. Warnings: SMUT 18+, MINORS DNI!! mxf (consensual) sex, fingering, low-key breast play, making out (in public), hickey talk, Mingyu is hung (obvs), he's also portrayed as 'taller' than the mc in interactions, mild to moderate language use, gyu's roomies are sloshed at the end (unrelated to smut or main characters), that should cover all the bases...

Fridays at the roller rink are always busy but this is the first official skate-night of Summer Time ‘99 and it’s like opening day all over again. The schools let out just a few hours ago, releasing hoards of teenagers with pent-up energy loose on your small town and there is a line out the door waiting to get into Wheelies to jump-start their next few months of freedom.

Thankfully, the owners prepared and bought a whole new stock of skates so when you inevitably have to help out at the rental counter you’ll have enough to go around without having to argue with some sixteen-year-old about not having their size.

For now, you’re on the floor making sure everything is running smoothly, gliding around in circles with your hands in your pockets. It’s not too packed just yet even though you can see the steady stream of kids filtering through the doors after hitting the ticket booth. Mothers are packing up their little ones knowing it’s time to head out before it picks up pace and the exchange in skaters coming on and off the floor keeps things pretty even for a short while.

As you pass by the DJ booth for the hundredth time this evening, Vernon pauses to make a goofy face at you while he sets up his equipment. He’s probably the one person who enjoys the summer nights the most because he gets to put on light shows and mix tracks to his heart’s content.

After letting the floor empty a bit more, you come to a stop in front of him for a quick break, crossing your arms and resting them over the top of his carpeted booth.

“You gonna play something special for me tonight, Nonnie?”

He rolls his eyes but grins all the same. “You ask me that every night.”

Laying your head on your arms, you look up at him with a pout, “And yet, no romantic song dedications to your favorite Wheelies girl,” you pick your head up and bat your eyes at him, “I’m starting to think you want to break up with me.”

“I promise if I want to end our made-up relationship, I’ll tell you like a real man. Besides,” Vernon laughs and tilts his chin up, looking at something behind you, “I think you’ve been seeing other people. Hotter Wheels if you catch my drift.”

“Heh, I think he hates that name,” you turn, catching sight of Mingyu ducking into the locker rooms to change out and stow his bag, most likely coming straight from hockey practice. Vernon is back to messing with things when you turn, humming, “Lets be real. I only like boys who don’t like me, Nonnie, that’s why you’re the one.”

“What if he’s like you and only goes for girls who don’t want him?”

At that you laugh, preparing to depart as the floor begins to steadily fill again. “Well then, he’ll be lonely forever because I am pretty sure everyone wants him.”

“Including you?”

Very stealthily, you flip him the bird.

Vernon just laughs it off and gets back to work as you skate away, toying with the whistle tied around your neck. You can tell he’s about to get started with his new set when the lights dim and the carpeted walls and floors outside of the polished skate floor start to glow. The little whirls and shapes coming to life with a neon purple hue.

You catch the line piling up at the rental booth but thankfully, it looks like they called in a few extra hands tonight to help there and in concessions which means you get to stay on the floor. Rentals isn’t the worst, that would be birthday party hosting, but you also hate concessions so you don’t put up a fuss when you’re asked to help with skates or in the front on the rare occasion one of the sweet old ladies manning the ticket windows is out.

As more people start piling onto the floor you slow your pace and skate backward for a few feet to check out your surroundings and find teenagers everywhere, loud and wildly unaware of their surroundings. They aren’t too awful this early in the night but you’re sure you’ll have to escort someone off the floor before closing time.

You’ll enjoy your leisurely pace for now and it seems Wonwoo is keen to do the same on the opposite side of the crowd. He weaves in and out of skaters bobbing his head to the music. His glasses are sitting lower on his nose than usual and you’re sure he’s broken them again…or his little brother did and he’s waiting for their exact replacement to come in so he can switch them out without his brother noticing and feeling any more guilty.

He’s only eight but Wonwoo is his very best friend. They come in on Saturdays together, one of Wonwoo’s only days off, and he teaches his brother to skate for an hour or so before he lets him loose in the arcade and they leave with matching ice cream cones in hand. They even have matching shaggy hairstyles. It’s adorable.

In truth, you’re fond of many of your co-workers but Wonwoo is definitely in your top three for that reason alone. You get along really well with any easy-going personality, it's the same with Vernon. They are both just nice, quiet guys and the exact opposite of the giant shadow hanging over your left shoulder.

Although, you suppose you get along just fine with him as well.

“Quit checking Wonwoo out, you’re breaking my heart.”

Even before he opened his mouth, the distinct cologne he always wore told you Mingyu was finally on the floor, ready to chase you around for the rest of the night like it was his full-time job. He spent more time trying to charm your pants off than doing what he was actually hired to do but he is so damn charming that he somehow gets away with it.

Besides, this is just a part-time gig for him. Might as well enjoy himself while he’s at it.

When you don’t answer right away, he decides to show off his stupidly impressive hockey maneuvers and he swings around in front of you, casually skating backward without bothering to look behind him. He’s big enough that people can’t miss him and they tend to move out of his path pretty quickly. Now that he sees your face, he’s smirking because you don’t even have it in you to hide your smile tonight. “Oh, that’s pretty,” he coos, “My heart’s healing already.”

You grab his arm to pull his hand away from his chest and he spins around to skate at your side, eyes briefly scanning the floor until they’re back on you.

“I wasn’t checking him out but believe me… you’re going to be absolutely devastated when Vernon finally admits he’s in love with me. Game over, buddy.”

Mingyu looks wholly unconvinced. “Well, he’s had long enough and you’re going to fall in love with me by the end of the week so…” he pinches his lips together like he’s just delivered the real, honest, awkward truth and you’re battling butterflies in your stomach.

“End of the week, huh? Are we sure?”

He gets distracted by an increase in volume but for only a moment because Wonwoo is already on it and the quick, sharp sound of his whistle means Mingyu’s full attention is on you again. “That’s what I have circled on my calendar,” he shrugs, “Nothing we can do about it now but let it happen.”

Mingyu’s sense of humor and playful nature are the literal nails in your coffin. You can handle hot with no personality…this one is hot with an overabundance of personality.

You look up at him, probably grinning ear to ear, “Bet you have little hearts doodled all over it with a hot pink gel pen, don’t ya, Hot Wheels?”

He grumbles something under his breath and it makes you snicker. Wonwoo started that one and it seemed to spread throughout the building like wildfire. Now, even the ticket ladies call him Hot Wheels though you’re sure they mean it quite literally whereas Wonwoo was actually just busting Mingyu’s balls about a particularly embarrassing tumble he took.

“Purple gel pen, actually,” he turns and pouts as you both bank around the curve again, “Lost my pink one.”

“Could always steal another one from your little sister.”

At that, he scoffs, the corner of his lips pulled up into a half-smile, “She threw a Barbie car at my head the last time I visited,” he doesn’t even sound upset…it’s more proud than anything, “She reminds me of you sometimes.”

When you go to respond, a young boy accidentally skates too close to you and his wheels knock into yours throwing you both off balance. You catch him by the arm, meeting his panic-stricken eyes, and wait to hit the floor but you rock back against a hard chest and thank all your lucky stars Mingyu was there to save you. The older you get, the harder the floor feels.

“I’m so sorry!” The boy exclaims once you’re all steady again, “I’m not good at this! I promise I wasn’t trying to take you out!”

His genuine concern is sweet and you laugh it off. “It’s totally okay and nobody got hurt,” you tell him and he takes a deep breath, “Wanna go around together a few times?”

The boy’s eyes shine and he nods his head rapidly. Mingyu drops back a few paces and you hold out your arm, elbow tucked into your side. “Okay,” you pat your forearm, “Hold on here…there you go…and we’re going to push off at the same time with the same foot. Hey, Gyu,” you call over your shoulder and he comes back up to your side, waiting for your instructions, “Will you skate a little ahead of us so he can watch you?”

“For sure,” Mingyu grins, picking up speed until he’s far enough away to slow his pace again and remain ahead of you.

The kid is a bit wobbly but he’s trying really hard and it makes you smile. You remember when you first learned to skate and how intimidating the rink was though you were around eight and he looks to be around fourteen. There wasn’t a floor full of bigger, faster kids to compete with though so you think maybe you got off easier.

“You’re doing great,” you encourage him, “Watch him go around the curve to get a better idea of how to steer yourself.”

Mingyu banks it beautifully, as usual. It’s surprising to most people that someone his size could skate so fluidly especially after learning that he only started playing hockey in his early teens. It was just something he had a natural talent for and trading out blades for wheels hadn’t altered his ability to move with grace whatsoever.

You work through the turn together, a little less smoothly, but you make it around and he lets out a short laugh. “He makes it look so easy.”

“Yeah, well he’s had lots and lots of practice and likes to show off.”

Your eyes settle on Mingyu again and as if he can sense you watching, he turns over his shoulder and winks which is not solely witnessed by you because the kid chuckles, following through the next curve with more confidence. “Is he your boyfriend? He’s kinda cool.”

The question catches you off guard and you laugh, covering your mouth with your free hand. “Not my boyfriend but yeah…I guess he’s kinda cool.”

He looks up at you…almost mischievously you’d think, if you knew him better. “I think he wants to be your boyfriend,” he snickers, “He keeps looking at you.”

You huff out a laugh, placing your hand over his before swinging you both into a stop out of the way. “I’m starting to think this is all a ruse and he’s paying you to put in a good word.”

The kid laughs and shakes his head, “No, I’m just nosey and a really lousy skater,” he says, looking up at Mingyu who’s come over and stopped next to you, “Thanks a lot for helping me out,” he looks a little sheepish, hand reaching around to scratch the back of his neck, “There is this girl at school I like and she’s a figure skater. She asked me out on a date at the ice rink when she comes back from vacation with her family in two weeks and I said yes even though I’m probably going to make a fool of myself. Figured I should start practicing now and falling on wheels is less intimidating than falling with knives on my feet.”

You laugh softly and Mingyu grins, shaking his head. “I admire your dedication to getting the girl, kid. Listen, I coach a youth hockey league at the ice rink down the road and have a free hour a few days a week that I use to practice myself. I’d be happy to teach you if you want.”

The boy’s eyes light up. “That would be so cool!”

Mingyu chuckles, “Alright, awesome. Are one of your parents here with you? I can go talk to them and give them my information.”

“Yeah! My grandma is sitting over there,” he points to the corner where you both make out an older woman sitting alone with a book in hand, surrounded by way too many boisterous young people.

You meet Mingyu’s eyes and both make a face. “Yikes, okay, let’s go save grandma.”

The boy thanks you again and starts to merge back into the flow of skaters as Mingyu smiles at you, pushing off with a ‘Don’t miss me too much’ and a stupid kissy face.

His grin is wild and gorgeous when you wiggle your fingers and whisper, “Bye, lover boy.”

Vernon is smiling at you when you reach his booth and you hop up onto the small ledge that allows a good look at the floor as a whole while also giving your legs a needed break. He’s playing one is his 80’s to 90’s pop mixes and tweaking the rotating lights that dance over the skaters until they start changing colors, neon polka dots as far as the eye can see.

There is a steady exchange of kids coming on and off the floor. Most of the early group heading into the arcade or bombarding the concessions counter while the later crowd takes their place. In between all that, you catch sight of Mingyu speaking with the boy and his Grandma. You don’t even realize that you’re unabashedly smiling at the scene, thinking about how kind and attentive he is when he’s listening. The way he leans in and pulls back, grinning and laughing.

“Still think you’re not into him?” Vernon says over your shoulder, laughing when you startle.

You purse your lips, eyes wandering back over. “I’m simply admiring his social aptitude,” you flick your eyes back up to Vernon and grin, “Why? Is it making you jealous darling?”

He smirks, “Not yet. Gonna have to try harder.”

“Ugh,” you swoon, hand over your heart, “I love it when you play hard to get.”

Vernon nods his head laughing, “Yeahhhh, I know you do.” Then he notices you’ve got your eye on an issue that needs handling and reaches out to pat the top of your head, “Two more hours and they all have to go home to be someone else’s responsibility. I’ll throw in some of your favorite jams.”

Ten o’clock couldn’t come soon enough but you appreciate his offer and toss out a few songs for consideration though he’s pretty familiar with your tastes. You step back down onto the floor and blow Vernon a kiss when you immediate recognzie the song he’s jumped into…just for you.

“You really are the best. Check on you in a bit, undercover lover.”

He throws up a peace sign and you cut across the floor to ask a couple of kids who were just blowing and popping bubbles to go spit out their gum as it’s clearly stated that it's not allowed on the floor. They don’t love your request and start to argue but Mingyu sneaks up behind you again and dazzles them with a smile. Just like that, the two young girls start giggling and falling all over themselves to do exactly as asked…all because the pretty guy said ‘Please’.

It’s comical, honestly.

Mingyu is smirking when he rolls along beside you, bending at the waist to peek up at your face because it’s aimed at the floor as you try to school your features. He’s so irritatingly flirtatious and you’re too quickly playing into his hand tonight. You’re usually better than this, holding out well until you’re pulling out of the parking lot.

“Oh, yeah,” he intones, “Tonight is definitely the night. You’re giving in. You can’t resist me any longer. It was bound to happen. You’re still smiling! I can see it!”

Laughing, you pull your head up and give him a look that you would have loved to be firm but it’s not in the slightest. How can you be serious when he is so not serious? “Don’t you dare,” you warn with a loose laugh tacked on at the end, “I told you, we’re not going on a date.”

Mingyu shrugs, “So, movies tomorrow night?”

“Don’t you work tomorrow?”

He bats his eyes with a saccharine smile, “I love that you know my schedule by heart,” he ignores your eye roll, “Wonu’s covering my shift since he owed me one and also because he’s a true romantic. He’s rooting for us and we can’t disappoint him.”

“Well, I suppose if it’s what Wonwoo wants…” you look up at him, eyes glittering with excitement, “When are you picking me up?”

For as calm and cool as Mingyu keeps it on the outside, he’s buzzing on the inside because he’s been toying around with the idea of taking you out forever. And he’s asked…more than once…but you’ve kept him on his toes and he’s enjoyed the playing the game but he’s elated that you’re finally saying yes.

He tries to school is face but he’s still beaming as he tries to casually say, “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“Seven?” you snicker, “Isn’t that a little late to get started? You keeping me out all night?”

He just shrugs, grinning. “Maybe.”

Mingyu shows up nearly twenty minutes early and you can see his car outside your condo. He doesn’t make a move to get out and it’s amusing to watch as he nervously drums his fingers on the steering wheel for a few beats before reaching for the door like he’s going to get out, and then shaking his head before resuming the fidgeting. It’s also a relief to know he’s feeling the same jitters you are.

The thought crossed your mind to pop your head out to wave him inside but he might be giving himself a pep-talk and you’re still contemplating your outfit.

The movie theater is always so cold. You debated the pros and cons of wearing something short-sleeved because on one hand, if you’re cold it might prompt your date to keep you warm but on the other hand, if he didn’t, you’d be freezing the whole time.

You could bring a jacket, but that’s an extra thing to carry.

Digging through your closet, you pull out a fuzzy black long-sleeved sweater. You hold it out, admiring the way it’s cropped a little shorter in the front, and then turn back to the mirror, holding it up to your chest. It would look cute with the Levi’s you’re wearing…decisions, decisions.

A car horn beeps and you peer out of your window seeing Mingyu rigid behind the wheel. You laugh, thinking he probably did not mean to do it and is embarrassed at having accidentally made too much noise. That’s pretty obvious by the way he’s looking around, paranoid and frustrated. It’s actually super cute and you’re lingering by the window now just admiring him from afar without care

Until you see Mingyu cut the engine and get out of the car. Then the panic sets in because you’re still not ready and well…it’s the first time he’s seeing you outside of work and not in uniform. You want him to be wowed and are probably still taking too long to get moving considering how brisk of a stride you know his to be. He’ll be here any second.

You scramble to pull on the sweater in your hands and run into the bathroom to grab your gold hoops, fix your hair, and check your makeup one last time. Your heart is racing but you smile at your reflection. He sees you all the time at work looking not even half as done-up as you are right now and thinks you’re a solid 10, so there isn’t really any doubt he’ll be pleased. Then the doorbell rings.

A few deep breaths to calm your nerves comes first. When you open the door, Mingyu’s mouth is fixed like he had a line locked and loaded but when he sees you, he chokes on the words. He’s so flustered that he stumbles back a step, laughing at himself. “Oh, you’re not going to take it easy on me, are you?”

That lights you up from the inside out and brings your confidence back around full circle.

“Have I ever made things easy for you?” you snicker, grabbing your purse off the hook by the door, “I think you like a challenge.”

“Nah, I just like you,” he smirks, tongue poking the end of his pointed canine as he watches you close and lock the door, trying his hardest to be respectful, “You look really good. Have I said that yet?”

Stashing your keys in your purse, you turn and grin up at him. “You alluded to it but I wouldn’t mind hearing you say it out loud.”

Always playing and teasing and flirting. It’s almost too much for you both to bear at this point.

“I’ll tell you as many times as you want,” he says softly but he reaches toward you, slipping his hand just behind your hip to pull you closer with a bold, sharp tug. Startled, you bump right into Mingyu’s chest and look up at him with wide eyes. He doesn’t say anything for a minute and then tilts his head back, sighing into the sky above. He’s mostly amused when he looks back at you.

“You look incredible…and we should get in the car before I ruin the illusion of me being a gentleman.”

“That image has been splintering for a while but I don’t think I’ll mind if a manner or two slips,” you tease as you pull apart, taking the time to look him up and down…

Light-washed jeans, crisp white t-shirt, open flannel hanging off his broad shoulders…”You look really good too,” you murmur in appreciation.

He’s about to sweating straight through his shirt if you keep looking at him like that.

“...yep…time to go,” he mumbles, pinching is lips together as he grabs your hand. He pulls you toward the parking lot which isn’t far, and opens the door for you to slip into his passenger seat. He doesn’t let go until you’re settled and takes it a touch further when he reaches in and grabs the seatbelt before you. His hand purposely grazes against the exposed skin between your pants and top as he buckles you in and you let out the breath you were holding the second he closes your door.

It’s getting more difficult to play hard-to-get by the millisecond but you’re willing to give in first if your reward is Mingyu breaking down bit by bit right in front of you.

You bite your lip to keep from giggling when he quickly rounds the car and settles into his seat next to you. He’s still shaking his head, quietly laughing at himself for getting so easily worked up. He turns over the engine, shifting into drive, and peers over at you with an air of disbelief.

“I’m starting to think we’re gonna have to sit in separate rows at this rate.”

Thankfully, the tension melts into easy banter and conversation on the ride to the theater. Mingyu entertains you with stories about his family and asks after yours, specifically your beloved niece whom he loves hearing about. He lets you toy around with his radio and blare some Spice Girls song that neither of you sings along to with the correct pitch…or words. It’s a blast either way.

Bold flirtation aside, Mingyu has always been a gentleman where it counts.

When you arrive at the movie theater, he opens all the doors, holds your hand every chance he gets, pays for your tickets and snacks despite your protesting, and lets you choose where to sit. The theater isn’t very full, though the movie you both decided on has been out for a while so it’s not all that surprising to see so many open seats. There are a few people scattered here and there and you don’t particularly love sitting next to others if you can avoid it.

That leaves the very front or the very back.

You glance over your shoulder at Mingyu, patiently waiting for you to decide, “You really don’t care?”

He shakes his head again with a soft smile and you sigh looking back at the open seats, “I don’t like being super close…are you okay with sitting up top?”

Mingyu’s eyes scan the very empty top rows and widen like he hadn’t actually realized how secluded they were until just now. “Totally cool,” he manages after a moment, “Lead the way.”

“Oh boy,” you whisper to yourself, turning to make your way up the stairs. You have to focus ahead and calculate the distance of each step so you don’t screw up and trip because that would be awfully embarassing. It’s dark, cold, and quiet, and there is a huge gap between the section you’re headed toward and the next closest couple sitting in the middle.

The very last row was almost too intimidating as if it somehow was the designated spot reserved for horny, depraved teenagers, and you were mid-twenty adults…so you stopped once you hit the second to last row and cut in a few seats before deciding that sitting in the middle was also weird so you dropped into the fourth seat from the aisle and forced yourself to stay put.

PIcking a seat and sticking with it has never been so daunting before.

Mingyu doesn’t say anything at all about your choice, much to your relief. If he cracked a joke about it, you think you might just burst at the seams. He just sits down in the seat next to you folding his very large frame into the too-tight space between the armrests. You’re both quiet as the lights dim and the previews start rolling but you can still feel him wiggling and adjusting himself next to you.

Your eyes meet when he accidentally bumps your arm and you smile at the fact that he is genuinely embarrassed, for no reason at all other than unintentionally taking up extra space. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers, “I don’t remember the seats feeling this cramped.”

“It’s really okay,” you turn, tucking his elbow safely into his side as you lift the armrest between you to give him more room, “We can share.”

“Are you sure?” his eyes seek yours again in the darkness, “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

You quietly snicker at his worry when he was the one being so brazen with your proximity earlier. At the same time, you can appreciate his consideration and reassure him with a gentle smile. “I really don’t mind…the extra body heat is appreciated.”

You can feel the moment Mingyu lets the tension flow out of his body. His shoulders relax until your arms touch lightly, his legs spread a little further apart as he sinks into his seat, firm thigh now pressed to the outside of your own. He’s warm and his cologne, as usual, is so rich and alluring that you know you’re going to be fighting the urge to mold yourself to his side for the next hour and a half.

Surprisingly, the movie isn’t half bad even though it was one you chose because every other film out was either super sad or overtly romantic and neither genre felt like a good fit for a first date. ‘Black Mask’ had a decent balance of action scenes and suspense that pretty easily kept your eyes on the screen, at least for a little while, sharing sour gummy worms and a soda between the two of you.

Your attention began to wane after the third time you bumped hands with Mingyu and it was lost entirely when he decided to simply hold your hand instead. Movie plot gone in an instant.

Instead of the screen, your eyes fall to your joined hands resting in his lap. They climb up to his chest, slowly rising and falling with each measured breath. Carefully, you let them slide higher, admiring the shadows projected over his throat and jaw. Higher to admire his handsome face. Higher again, just to get a little more of him, and when you get there, you find him staring back.

Neither of you shy away this time. Mingyu nervously licks his lips and his eyes flit down to yours, only for a second, just to reassure himself that you’re both on the same wavelength even though the chemistry between you has always been pretty clear. He still hesitates before he leans closer but you’re done waiting and choose to kiss him first.

It’s soft, brief, and when you part, you can see the smile on his handsome face and it brings the butterflies in your stomach back to life all over again. He cups your cheek and pulls you back into another kiss, and then another, and another. A million times you’d thought about kissing Mingyu and this was still far better than any you’d imagined thus far.

Actually kissing him highlights the small details you were missing. The bits of it that are unique and a part of him only. It’s the way his thumb strokes against your cheek, how he tilts his face and changes his angle so fluidly that you follow him like it’s completely natural, the tender way he’s slow to let go of your bottom lip and how he kisses it afterward.

It’s certainly not your first kiss or even the first time you’ve made out with someone at the movies, but this feels entirely new. Mingyu is not some hopped up, horny kid. He takes his time with you, he’s gentle, patient. It’s not sloppy or rushed. He isn’t trying to clumsily cop a feel the whole time, though, you think you’d probably let him and that he wouldn’t fumble around at all. It feels like he knows exactly what he’s doing, even if he doesn’t.

You hope that you feel natural to him too.

He pulls back with a slow hum of appreciation and that’s good enough for you.. When your eyes meet, you’re both smiling, and Mingyu takes that as his good sign. He wraps his arm around your shoulders and tucks you into his side until he feels your body relax against his and you finish the movie just like that.

Well, you’re both looking at the screen but you’re more focused on the way he continues to kiss your hair every few minutes and he’s locked on to the feeling of your nails gently drawing a line up and down his thigh.

Eventually, the lights come on and you’re a little slow to untangle as the rest of the theater clears out. It’s entirely empty by the time either of you hit the stairs.

“Soooo,” Mingyu hums, trailing behind you half a step, “Thoughts…opinions…? On the movie, of course.”

You laugh without turning around and nod your head, “Right…the movie, yeah. Just as the trailer promised,” you focus on your feet moving a step at a time and not tripping, “Perfectly executed action sequences.”

He grins to himself, tucking his chin into his chest. “I’m glad it lived up to all the hype,” he balances his weight on one foot before taking the next step, “Nothing worse than all that anticipation ending in disappointment.”

You peer over your shoulder at him, smiling coyly, “Oh, no disappointment here. I’m sure i’ll be thinking about it for quite some time.”

He huffs out a laugh, “Are we talking about the movie or the kiss?”

“What kiss?” you smirk, quickly turning around to hurry down the rest of the steps but he’s right behind you the whole way.

Just as you whip around the corner and into the dim hallway that leads to the exit, Mingyu catches you around the waist and pins you up against the wall. You can feel his heart thudding under your palms, the thrill of excitement hardly contained in his chest as his lips crash into yours.

Disappointment is so very far from your realm of feeling at the moment. Any expectation you had, which admittedly was already pretty high, was shattered and elevated yet another level each time his tongue danced across the seam of your lips or when his hands made another pass over your body.

From the beginning, you theorized that Mingyu was more than just a smooth talker. You had him pegged as a man with follow-through and you’re simply rolling in it, knowing you were right, and now you’re experiencing it for yourself which makes things that much more gratifying.

Mingyu was a certified lover boy. Called and confirmed it.

The very best part, you think to yourself as you feel him grin against your lips, is that he’s yours…or at least, he wants to be. You don’t have to let him know he’s already won.

He’s still smiling when you slide your hands over his arms, pointedly squeezing the ample muscle there, and he finishes you off with a few final, fluttering kisses.

When your eyes meet, there is a buzz of nervous laughter and Mingyu again asks, “So, the movie or the kiss?”

Your gaze drifts back down to his mouth and your stomach twists torturously when his knowing smirk reveals a prettily pointed canine. The same that’s bitten into your bottom lip a few times already this evening. You look back up and narrow your eyes playfully, “I don’t recall any kissi-”

He leans back down, slotting his lips against yours and the second he so much as breathes the door at the end of the hall clicks open and you hear two voices, likely the staff coming to clean the theater, and here you two delinquints are still splattered against the wall playing tonsil hockey.

Mingyu freezes and your eyes are wide as saucers. “Go, go around the other way!”

You have to slip out from under his frame and drag him a few feet before his mind catches up and you’re both scrambling back across the theater to the exit on the opposite side. As quietly as you can, you peek out of the small window to make sure the coast is clear and pop the door open for you both to come tumbling out.

The wide corridor outside the theater is mercifully empty but the adrenaline in your bodies’ leaves you jogging toward the side exit, laughter bubbling up and out into the open space around you. It’s all so silly and exhilarating, and when Mingyu grabs your hand, pulling you through the doors out into that warm summer air, you’re sure you can’t remember the last time you’ve felt so…alive.

Or maybe there is just something about the moon and stars, and the way their enchanting glow seems to make everything in their wake just a little more beautiful. He’s one of those things - bright, beautiful, feathered and soft around the edges.

You’ve stopped to catch your breath but it remains trapped in your chest the longer you look at him. It’s suddenly a little heavy, this crush of yours, weighed down by impression of his hands on your hips, your face, the small of your back. Flirting and teasing was easy. Agreeing to finally go out with him was easy. Realizing the potential for more was real and standing in front of you was a shock to your system because you’re uncovering very quickly how much you want that with him.

“We should definitely go to dairy queen.”

It takes a minute to process his words and then with a little shake, you lift your head to find Mingyu smiling back down at you. “Feels like the movie might have left you with a lot to think about and nothing helps me sort through my head quite like ice cream.”

You cock your head to the side, the tension in your chest evaporating just like that.

“Have you always this charming?”

“When I put in the extra effort, which is only for you, sure,” he chuckles, using your joined hands to pull you a little closer as you walk alongside eachother through the parking lot, “I’m not everyone’s cup of tea though.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” you scoff, bumping into his arm with your shoulder, “Everyone loves you. I’ve seen it with my own two eyes.”

His tongue pokes into his cheek, rolling his eyes skyward, “You missed the guy I had to escort out of the rink a couple weeks ago who took a few swings at me in the parking lot. Pretty sure he was not enthralled by my dazzling smile and strapping good looks.”

“One person…that’s all you got?”

Reaching his car, Mingyu opens the passenger door for you and waits until you’re seated and looking up at him expectantly. He licks his lips and smirks, “Buckle up, you’re in for a ride.”

After grabbing ice cream, you decided making your date drive over to the shore was favorable to sitting on the sticky red tables outside the DQ, so instead, you’re sitting side by side on a small gym towel he miraculously had in his trunk, eating your deserts and swapping stories to the tune of the gentle waves crashing ashore.

So far, you’ve learned that the sole reason Mingyu got into hockey in the first place was because he was in constant trouble as a kid…in school, at home, or literally anywhere else he happened to be. His poor mother tried to put him in every sport and hobby she could think of to keep him busy and out of trouble but baseball wasn’t a fit, basketball ended in another fist fight and suspension, football benched a few and landed one kid in the hospital, and any form of martial arts was out of the question.

Finally, she found an ad in the newspaper for boy’s hockey team tryouts and the rest was history. You can clearly hear the admiration in his voice when he spoke about his original coach and his teammates. How it was touch and go from the start but no matter how much hot water he found himself in, they wouldn’t quit on him. When he realized that, he started pouring all of his pent up energy into the game and it changed him in all the best ways. It’s the whole reason he coaches today…to be someone who can make a positive change in a kid’s life the way his coach did for him.

Honestly, it’s hard to imagine Mingyu as anything other than the kind, gentle, playful guy you know him to be but everyone grows and changes. He still has a wild sort of glint in his eyes at times that lead you to believe every word he’s said about his younger years.

The sea breeze is crisp and almost a little chilly despite the warm air it mixes with so you push a little closer into Mingyu’s side and he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Cold?”

“A bit,” you roll your head toward him, resting it against the crook of his shoulder, “Kinda just wanted to be close to you again…despite your delinquent past, I think I like you a little.”

“A little?” he smirks, eyes darting to your mouth briefly, “I think you like me a lot.”

Scrunching your nose, you make a face at him and he tosses his head back and laughs.

“If you don’t admit it soon I’m going to have to make a huge, probably embarrassing, for you, romantic gesture,” he counters, looking very half-serious, “A big old fashioned declaration of love…in public…loudly.”

“You’re still a little shit, aren’t you?”

“Don’t pretend you aren’t loving the reformed bad boy thing.” He’s spot on because Mingyu is the exact kind of guy you would have had a crush on back then too.

You let out a long sigh and pick your head up, leaning to the side to bury your now-empty cup in the sand so it doesn’t blow away just like Mingyu had on his side. In the process, Mingyu slips his arm a little lower on your back, his hand curled around your hip to keep you balanced. You love every single point of contact so you fall right back into his side when you sit up again.

“To be fair, I think you’re only partly reformed,” more smirking, “Mhm, that’s exactly what I mean,” you hum in amusement, “Listen, I’ll give in…just a little…and admit that there are a lot of things I love about you..”

“I’m listening,” he purrs, ready for the boost in confidence you’re surely about to give him. Anything that could even vaguely resemble a compliment would send him over the moon coming from you.

“I love the way…you genuinely enjoy helping people,” you start quietly, soothing the subtle nerves beginning to tingle in your fingertips, “I love that you put so much time and effort into coaching your kids and how much you love talking about them…how you’ll roll your eyes and shake your head telling me stories about them and yet you always finish with a smile because ‘they’re a handful but they’re good kids’”

Mingyu snorts softly and you knowingly ask, “There’s lots of little Mingyu’s on your team, aren’t there?”

He nods slowly, pushing the tip of his tongue against his teeth. “Ohhh yeahhh,” he breathes out with a light chuckle, “I understand now why my coach made me run drills until I dropped. I’ve got a couple that have already outshined my reputation at their age and some days it’s a battle of wills but they’ve come along way,” he ducks his head, grinning, “Hoping they’re the extent of my karma and it doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass when I have kids one day.”

He makes a face right after he says it and looks down at you almost apologetically, “Was that weird to say on a first date? I feel like that’s something you’re supposed to avoid but you’re easy to talk to and words just fall out of my mouth sometimes.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” you laugh, quirking an eyebrow at him, “I know it’s a first date but we’re not strangers, besides, I’ve always just assumed you were a family kind of guy. You talk about yours all the time, super close with your little sister, and from all i’ve witnessed, you’re just kinda great with kids in general,” you shrug, easing his worry, “I promise, it’s not a shock to me that you’d want your own and I’ll save you the torture of wondering whether to ask or not…yes, I’d like to have kids someday. Someday farrrrr away in the future.”

“Oh, good,” he chuckles, “Me too...lightyears away.”

It’s not on either of your radars currently but it’s nice to know that you have common goals for the future. It leaves a brief pause in the conversation, though not an uncomfortable one. Just a quiet moment to soak things in.

First date, first kiss(es), and it’s all going…perfectly.

It’s one thing to flirt and banter with a cute co-worker but taking the leap and going on a date together is a whole different game. There are very real feelings on both sides of the court and the potential for something real and permanent is so palpable you can feel it pushing you closer to one another. Leap again. Put yourself out there and trust the other will catch you.

Mingyu breaks the silence first and you feel his fingers twitch against your back.

“I really like you,” he says steadily, like that was the easy part, “I think you’re beautiful inside and out, stop laughing i’m being serious,” he grins and you try to reel it in for his sake, “My first day on the job I was blatantly called out and laughed at by Wonwoo after he caught me spacing out and staring at you for the third time…I don’t think I even made it an hour into my shift before I was hooked.”

“Oh, I thought you were being serious?” you grin.

“Shhhh,” he counters, “I’m not done.”

“Where was I? Oh yeah…you’re a good friend and a good person, and I like having you in my life,” he says softly, picking up your hand and pulling it into his lap, “I want to bring you home to meet my family so my mom can drag out the photo albums the way she’s always joked about doing while my sister spends the whole time telling you embarrassing things about me. They would like like you a lot. The boys on my team already like you.”

“Oh?”

He laughs, “Oh yeah, they’re always in my business and I made the mistake of bringing you up at a practice once so you’re a regular topic of discussion. I should have known I was doomed from then on and they’re brutal sometimes. One kid called me a loser because he’s fourteen and has a girlfriend and I don’t.”

“Is that how you’re asking me out? Trying to get the sympathy vote because you’re getting picked on by a bunch of kids?” you smirk.

“Maybe…is it working?” he asks, gaze dipping to your mouth for the millionth time tonight.

“I don’t know yet,” you inch a little closer, “Maybe you should try softening me up a little more before you ask again.”

He pauses, hovering just a breadth away from your face and his open mouth pulls into a sly grin, “By any means necessary?”

“Do what you have to do I suppos-”

“Niiccceee hickey.”

You slap a hand over the mark you swore you’d covered well enough with concealor, apparently not, and whip your head in Vernon’s direction. “Can you not announce it loud enough for everyone to hear?”

Vernon glances side to side. “There is literally no one except us in here and that thing announced itself.”

“What thing?”

Wonwoo comes in and drops his bag on the wooden bench, pulling out his uniform top to shrug over his shoulders. His glasses sit askew on his face and you really hope he’s got good insurance because they’re always in awful shape.

You turn and press your forehead against the cool metal of your locker door and Vernon chuckles, stowing his things noisely. “The physical evidence to prove that her date went abundantly well.”

Wonwoo smirks, walking closer to pry your hand away from your neck. He whistles. “Damn, Mingyu’s a biter…not surprised. Good luck hiding that thing - it’s going to be with you for a while.”

“Ok. Hickey expert. Thanks for your input,” you grumble.

He shrugs. “We all have interests and hobbies, and you’re welcome.”

You roll your eyes and turn around, leaning back against your locker with a pout. “I’m kinda nervous that we’re working together tonight for the first time since we went out. Do you think it will be weird?”

Vernon makes a goofy face. “Why would it be weird? I thought you said everything went well and you’re like, dating now? Did something happen?”

“No, everything was great,” you slump down a little further, “Like…too great. I’m trying not to jinx things or be weird. Are we too old to call each other boyfriend and girlfriend? Is that a thing for adults? Or did we grow out of that after high school?”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes, fixing the notch on his belt, “No, we’re not too old for that. He’s your boyfriend. You’re his girlfriend. Simple.”

“Is it?” you reply with a unintentional snap that doesn’t phase either of them.

Vernon sits on the bench in front of you and stretches his back out, groaning like an old man. “Yes, simple. You like him and he likes you, and you have fun together. I fail to see the problem.”

“Yeah, that’s like, the opposite of a problem,” Wonwoo agrees, “Besides…being left alone in the rink after hours sounds mighty convenient if you ask me.”

Snapping your jaw shut, your eyes widen, “What exactly are you suggesting?”

Wonwoo smirks, “I’m not suggesting anything but an opportunist would use their imagination.”

Both you and Vernon peg Wonwoo with a suspicious stare.

“With all due respect,” you say slowly, your eyebrow steadily raising with each word, “I didn’t think you rolled like that.”

“Neither did I,” Vernon adds, equally intrigued.

“You’re kind of a freak, aren’t you?”

“Who’s a freak?”

All three of you startle and whirl around to see Mingyu coming through the door. His hair is wet, likely freshly showered after hockey practice, and he’s looking at each of you with a clueless grin.

“Nothing and no one!” you reply with a grin, already floating toward the hunk in the doorway, “Hi.”

“Hi,” he grins down at you, “I see you and I got stuck closing tonight.”

You swallow down the knot in your throat and hold up a middle finger behind your back directed at Vernon and Wonwoo’s snickering.

“Yep,” you bounce on your toes, “Just you and I…closing everything down…together…tonight.”

Mingyu’s lips pinch together to hold in a laugh. You were always so bold and confident when it came to teasing him and now, he can tell you’re having to make a great effort to hold it all together. “I’m sure we’ll find a way to make it fun,” he chooses, satisfied when your eyes widen just a touch, “I think Jim’s looking for you by the way. If you’re done getting-”

“Yes,” you squeeze his arms and then move past him at lightening speed, rushing out the door.

Mingyu just stands there and laughs quietly before looking up to see the grin on Vernon and Wonwoo’s faces. “Alright, how much did she tell you?”

“Didn’t have to tell us much at all.”

Wonwoo shakes his head. “The bite marks you left told us everything we needed to know.”

Mingyu’s eyes drop to the floor as he awkwardly scratches the back of his neck. He’s glad the ones you left on him are covered by his collar because he just barely got away with blaming it on equipment mishandling when one of the older boys in his youth league pointed one out with a mischievous laugh.

Vernon claps a hand over his shoulder on his way out the door causing Mingyu to look back up again. “Happy for you, dude. She’s a good one.”

Mingyu smiles softly, “Thanks, man.”

When he leaves, Mingyu pushes further into the room and starts getting himself situated, glancing over at Wonwoo every now and then like he’s waiting for him to say something.

“I can feel you staring,” Wonwoo mumbles, eyes now glued to his Game Boy Pocket as he tries to save his progress from earlier.

Mingyu shrugs his shoulders up to his ears, pushing his bag into his locker.

Wonwoo puts his game down and looks up. “Whaddaya want, Hot Wheels?”

He pauses, making a face at the nickname, and then carefully asks, “On a scale of one to ten, how bad of an idea is it for me to-”

“Make a move tonight?”

Mingyu’s mouth pops open. “Oh,” he blinks, “You read minds too?”

Wonwoo sighs and leans back a touch, both hands gripping the edge of the bench beneath him. “To be fair, that’s exactly what I’d be thinking about if I were in your position. Empty building…gorgeous girlfriend…”

Mingyu scoffs, “Alright, easy…”

He gets a smirk in return and Wonwoo stands, stretching his long limbs. “I’m not wrong and also not interested in your girl so relax,” he leans down and tugs on the laces of his skates and then straightens out, “You both think too much. Just be normal. Do the same lovey dovey, flirty shit you always do and see how the night goes.”

“You’re kind of good at this,” Mingyu compliments, his lips pulling into a half-smirk, “What do you get up to when you’re off the clock and not playing big brother of the year?”

Nearing the door, Wonwoo just turns over his shoulder and tosses Mingyu a wink.

He’s handed out enough advice for one night.

You were still jittery when Mingyu joined you out on the floor but falling into the same routine was pretty simple, just like Vernon and Wonwoo said, and it took loads of anxious tension off your shoulders. If anything, Mingyu was more playful with his teasing and a little more bold with his physical affection when others weren’t paying attention.

It was like a game of how flustered he could make you without getting in trouble for fooling around on the job. The floor was crowded which simply meant he got to stay a little closer to you without looking suspicious which allowed him to find out how fun it was to pull you around by the belt loops of your pants.

He loved the little noise of surprise you let out every time he snuck up behind you, hooking his finger through the loop to tug you back against his chest where he pretended to tell you something important. Like he was just trying to talk to you over the sound of the music when he had nothing but more teasing to whisper in your ear.

The hours flew by unnoticed and before long, you were bidding your last goodbyes to the rest of the staff having finished their own cleaning and closing duties.

Mingyu went into the office to toy with the audio system after you asked to throw something on just so it wasn’t silent in the big dark building while you followed Vernon and Wonwoo to the doors to lock up after them.

Vernon shifts his bag on his shoulder and cuts a sideways glance in your direction. “You gonna be okay?”

You shrug, touched and confused he’d asked. “Yeah, I’ve closed up a million times. All good.”

Wonwoo pats the top of your head like a puppy. They both have a habit of that.

“He meant, are you gonna be okay here alone with Mingyu? Are you comfortable with us leaving - not that I think he’d ever do something to hurt or upset you…I’d kill him and he knows it…but you give us the word and we’ll stay.”

“Oh,” you blink and wave your hands dismissively, “No, we’re good! I was just worried about being a loser earlier but we’re totally fine!”

“We thought so,” Vernon grins, pushing the glass door open, “Just checking.”

It’s sweet and embarrassing that they’d thought to ask and you tell them as much as you gently push Vernon through the doorway. “Thought for a minute you were finally ready to confess,” you joke, fake pout on your lips and all, “I’ll drop him like a hot potato if you ask, Nonnie.”

Wonwoo follows him out and laughs, “You’re full of shit but I’m sure he appreciates the sentiment. By the way, if you find yourself in need…Jihoon keeps condoms in his locker.”

You slap a hand over your mouth, covering your shocked laughter. “First of all, mind your business and second, what the hell?!”

Vernon shrugs, “Man likes to be prepared I guess!”

….Line cooks are one of a kind. Truly.

You’re shaking your head as they wave goodbye and walk off toward Wonwoo’s car as it must have been his turn to carpool. Pulling the doors shut, you carefully lock each one and double check them before turning on your heel and then the music cuts on over the speakers. It’s not crazy loud but enough to keep the odd sounds that accompany a big old building from rattling in your ears.

Mingyu pops his head out of the office when you round the corner and you cock your head in question, “Beastie Boys?”

“Couldn’t get the discs to work so radio it is,” he shrugs, “I can find something else if you want.”

You shake your head, brushing past his shoulder into the small office to sit down and reconcile the financials for the night. “I’m not picky. Did you already grab the bags from the registers?”

He nods, “Yep, everything’s there and Jim left the keys for the safe in the desk,” Mingyu squeezes your shoulders when you sit down and you smile up at him. “I’m going to knock out the kitchen and rental walk-throughs while you count if that’s okay? After that we will just have shut down the arcade and I can take out the left over trash bags.”

“That would be amazing,” you tell him, head still cushioned against the office chair as you smile lazily up at him, “I just love a man that knows how to take charge and get the job done.”

He immediately chokes out a laugh and turns on his heel muttering something about how ‘he’s not going to get anything done if you keep that up’ as he walks away.

It takes another full minute to bring the task at hand back into focus and you have to consciously fight off the intrusive inappropriate thoughts clouding your brain when it’s supposed to be crunching numbers. You even have to recount a few bags because the image of Mingyu sitting you on the desk you’re working at to do dirty things with you keeps popping into your head and it’s getting harder and harder to focus. After probably twice the amount of time it usually takes you to do the financials, you’re finally done and locking the safe when Mingyu returns.

“Oh, hey,” you perk up when you notice him in the doorway, “Ready to go do the arcade?”

“Already done,” he snickers, “I came back after walk-throughs and caught you cursing and restarting your counts so I just went ahead and finished up the list.”

“Oh!” you shift on your feet, “...guess we’re all done then.”

Mingyu crosses his arms, leaning against the door frame looking extra swoon-worthy. Not a single poster of your favorite 80s and 90s heartthrobs plastered to the walls of your old bedroom held a candle to the picture in front of you and he knows it.

“You sound disappointed. I’m sure we could find other things to do if you wanna stay a little longer,” his eyes shift over to the audio system, still playing a mix of alternative and pop hits, and fixes his eyes back on you, “Ever considered making out with someone in an empty skating rink with No Doubt playing over the speakers?”

“Can’t say I have. What about you?”

Mingyu grins, shifting his weight to tower over you, “Thought just now crossed my mind.”

He slides one hand beneath your jaw and the other over your hip, slotting his lips against yours as he walks you back until you bump into the desk behind you. After teasing you with your belt loops all night, you decide to return the favor, licking at the seam of his lips as you hook your fingers in his front loops and pull him closer. He laughs against your lips and pulls back to meet your eyes. “That’s my move.”

“I liked it, so I think I’ll steal it,” you smirk, tugging at the loops still.

“We should probably get our things and head out before I do something stupid and incredibly irresponsible,” he chuckles though there is a very real edge to his tone like he’s trying hard to behave himself right now.

“What kind of stupid and irresponsible things?” you test him, releasing his belt loops to hook your index finger into the waist band of his pants instead, “I might be interested.”

The hand on your hip squeezes and he bites out a laugh. “Who’s the delinquent now?”

“Still you, but I recounted those bags because I kept getting interrupted by steamy office fantasies popping into my head so if you’d rather take me home before we make questionable decisions, we should probably leave now.”

He groans, torn between having to wait or giving in and having you right here, right now. The cons would be that it’s A.) your work place, B.) it’s not the cleanest place to hook up, and C.) he has to wait when his body is begging him otherwise.

As luck has it, you decide for him.

“Can we go to your place? My roommate is home tonight and she’s got hard rules against hooking up when the other is home. She doesn’t even really like when I have friends over but her name is on the lease so I don’t argue much.”

Mingyu shuts off his internal debate processing, grateful to have you choose for the both of you. “My roommates work the late shift at the bar on 89th so they will probably come home at some point but they don’t care about guests…or girlfriends. We respect that rule in regards to privacy.”

“Ugh,” you rolls your eyes, relaxing in his hold, “That must be so nice. Got an extra room at your place?”

“Got plenty of space for you in mine,” he smirks, “Alright let me grab our bags from the locker room and we’ll get out of here. Did you drive?”

You shake your head, moving to turn off the audio system, “No, I took the bus today.”

“Sweet, we’ll take my car home and won’t have to worry about leaving yours.”

It’s funny how you’re both being so casual at the moment as if you weren’t pinned up against the desk, debating whether you should desecrate the business office, and now you’re both going about your normal routines as if you didn’t just agree that you’re leaving to go directly to his place to hook up for the first time.

It catches up with you when Mingyu pulls up to the front of his shared beach house and cuts the engine. You look at the light blue house and catch the subtle sounds of the ocean not far off. “I had no idea you lived on the island,” you share as you get out of the car and walk together toward the door.

Mingyu hands you the key and takes your bag so you can open the door. “Yeah, we’ve been here about a year now. Used to share a condo a little further in but we spend a lot of time at the beaches here so when this place opened up we snagged it as quick as we could.”

Pushing inside, it’s exactly what you imagine a triad of bachelors to live in. Everything is clean but the couch is a futon, there are two cd towers filled with music you’d love to check out, a few bean bag chairs, a stereo system big enough to take up half a wall, and theres a couple of empty corona bottles spread on the low table in the living room next to a few gaming controllers.

Mingyu groans when he sees them and glances over apologetically. “I definitely asked them to clean those up when I left this morning. You’d think a couple of bartenders would know how to recycle empty beer bottles. I swear we have manners.”

You laugh and follow him to what you assume is his bedroom down the hall. He opens the door and drops both bags next to his dresser before flicking on a lamp. “Wasn’t expecting to bring you back here so I am glad my cleaning habits are something of use,” he pulls open a drawer and grabs a random t-shirt before handing it to you, “Here, you can wear this if you want and I’ll show you where the bathroom is…I just uhhh..I thought maybe you’d be more comfortable changing out of your uniform.”

You raise a brow at him, “What? My Dickies and pinstrip ref polo aren’t sexy enough for you?”

He smirks back, “Anything you wear is sexy enough for me but the sex and dating column in Cosmopolitan’s spring magazine says a woman’s comfort comes before all else and is the key to a healthy, thriving relationship.”

“You read Cosmo?”

He shrugs, “Had to pick my mom and sister up at the hair salon and got there on time which was apparently thirty minutes early. There was nothing else to do.”

“Learn anything else?” you ask just before he leaves you at the bathroom door.

Mingyu tugs the frosty bleached tips of his hair. “Learned six new ways to accesorize with butterfly clips and that my horoscope for last month was only half correct,” he grins, “Let me know if you need anything, babe, i’m gonna use the other bathroom to clean up.”

You mumble back an OK and shut the door, bumping into the counter. “Babe?” you repeat quietly, looking at yourself in the mirror.

The reality of you having a super-hot-hockey-player boyfriend who is also insanely sweet and volunteers his free time to coach a youth league, and is an amazing kisser, and the kind of guy that calls you babe, crashes into you completely and you’re scrambling to clean yourself up, change, steal some mouthwash, and give yourself a full pep talk before you emerge god knows how long later.

Following the same path back to Mingyu’s room, you pause at the door and take a deep breath before re-entering his space.

He’s laying in his bed tossing a small blue ball up and down with one hand while he waits. You’re pleased to see that he decided not to put a shirt on, lounging only in a pair of basketball shorts, because you also decided to ditch half your clothing. The opposite half.

The ball lands in his palm with an audible smack and he looks up when you step into his room, closing the door behind you.

“Wait right there,” he throws out a hand as you take a step closer and you hesitate, “I just want to burn this image into my memory for all of eternity.”

Rolling your eyes with a soft laugh, you walk the rest of the way over to Mingyu who reaches for your hand and pulls you up onto his bed to straddle his lap comfortably. His hands move up and down your thighs and he’s smiling at you all the while. “You’re so beautiful,” he sighs and then shakes his head when you try to brush him off. “Genuinely. I’m not just saying that to get in your pants. You’re not even wearing pants to get into.”

He’s amusing and captivating when he’s like this, hands exploring every inch of exposed skin, chest pressed against yours, his face turned up as he looks at you with that white-hot gaze. It further drives your need to touch and feel him so you wrap your arms around his shoulders loosely, letting your fingers dance over the muscle in his back.

Mingyu’s eyes flutter closed, only for a moment as your nails trail over his spine, and you smile to yourself, overjoyed with the feeling of his body beneath yours.

“This feels a little surreal,” you speak quietly and he hums in response, setting his eyes back on your face, “I mean…”

“Ahhhhhh,” he grins, lacing his fingers together where his hands rest on your lower back, kept warm under your shirt, “Because you’ve been dreaming about me every night since we met?”

“Something like that,” you sigh and Mingyu shuts up, not expecting you to give in so easily. You pinch the hair at the nape of his neck tugging it nervously, “You should probably kiss me before I say something even more embarrassing.”

Mingyu chuckles and his eyes dip to your mouth. He captures your lips easily, moving his hands against the planes of your back as he kisses you until your mind clouds over.

His hair is soft between your fingers, the silly frosted ends tickling your skin when you give a little experimental tug. Wonwoo teased him endlessly for falling for the fad but you had to admit you liked it on him.

You’d probably like anything on him though. Besides, it wasn’t long before Wonwoo broke down and tried it too albeit a bit more subtle and less Backstreet Boys.

Mingyu braces his forearm behind your hips and tugs. His skin is hot and he keeps you still against him, not like you plan on shifting away, but the need to be touched, held…anchored to him is met without needing to ask. It feeds into your confidence allowing you to move more freely, rolling your hips, arching your back until your chest is pushing into his and he just can’t stand the fabric in the middle.

The shirt he’d given you doesn’t even fully hit the ground before his arms are wrapped around your body again and he buries his face in the crook of your neck, lips trailing over your throat, shoulders, collar bones. Whatever he can reach without letting go.

A sharp gasp hits the air when his tongue dips to the base of your throat and he closes his lips over that same spot with a kiss. Thighs trembling, you hope he doesn’t comment on the pathetic way your cunt squeezes around nothing. He says nothing though. Instead, he groans deep in his chest and his hands tighten possesively.

Then he does it again, and again. He encourages your real, raw reactions, full intending to pull them from you until you let go of whatever mental block is keeping you from letting him know exactly how much you love the way he makes you feel.

Pretty soon he succeeds and you’re no longer trying to hold yourself together, holding your breath, or trying to be quiet.

Mingyu drags his teeth along your collarbones and grins at the soft hum you let out, so at odds with the way your body jumps at the sharp sensation.

“You like that, huh?”

It take an extra few seconds to process his words, brain near mush from his attention.

“So you do like it,” Mingyu laughs, pecking a small kiss to your shoulder, “What else do you like?”

You’ve only just now formed a response to his first question and now he’s asking another and he’s smirking. It’s almost like he’s doing it on purpose…

Your mouth pops open to say something, what that might have been, you’ll never know because at the same time, Mingyu leans back a little and drags your hips over his, grinding his erection against your sensitive cunt. “You like that?”

At this point, you give up on words and just nod your head fervently. Yes, I fucking like that.

His hands ghost up your sides until his thumbs are brushing against your breasts. He pauses, testing the water before diving in, and he catches the hitch in your breath. The way your head drops back just a touch like all this is making you a little dizzy. He leans forward and presses a kiss against your sternum before falling back against the pillows to take in the full picture.

You, perched in his lap with your back arched, pushing your aching breasts into his hands to play with. It’s the exact shit he’s fallen victim to in a wet dream but this is real and far better because here you are, in the flesh, gripping onto his wrists and rocking your hips against him for an inkling of relief from how much he’s turned you on.

It’s wearing his patience down and is going to bite him in the ass if he doesn’t move things along. He prematurely finished one time and it still haunted him at night. Never again.

Hopefully.

Mingyu makes a miraculous maneuver, with you landing on your back at his side, somehow, without twisting or pinning someone’s limb in the process.

“That was very smooth.”

You’re staring back up at him in wonder, partly because you’re not used to being tossed around like that, but also because he’s looking down at you with a serious, heated expression and it’s making your heart beat a little too fast.

“Can I touch you?” he askes softly and you’re immediately nodding. “Yeah?” he mimics the motion in a daze, eyes glued to your mouth, “Come here.”

Easy. You kiss him, well, it’s pretty equal efforts but you get to him first, too impatient to wait even half a second more. His hand moves over your hip slowly, then shifts to brush against your naval where he rests it for a moment, heat from his skin seeping into yours.

He’s planning on making good on his request, though you beat him to it again.

Mingyu parts his lips with a sigh when he feels your hand slide over his. Your fingers curl around his palm and you guide his hand lower. He asked to touch you and then made you wait - whether it be on purpose or just his own nerves - you’ll help him help you.

He doesn’t seem to mind and rewards you instantly with his thick fingers rubbing against your cunt through your panties. Your mouth falls open with a soft moan and his brows knit together right as the sound hits his ears. His gaze is unwavering and you almost wish he would just kiss you again instead of studying your face this closely…then his middle finger presses down a little harder and the sound you let out that time makes the corner of his mouth turn up into a half-smirk.

It doesn’t even slip away when he leans down and kisses you, his smirk still obviously tugging at his lips when they touch yours. His hand pushes inside your underwear and he groans into your mouth when he feels how wet and warm you are but he doesn’t have time to waste or savor the feeling because he needs you to cum on his fingers at least once before he fucks you and his will to wait it out is all but gone.

You’re responsive to every stroke, gasping and whimpering, digging your nails into his arm. Your back arches up off the bed every time he pumps his fingers faster, rubbing them up against your g-spot with expert ease because, hell yeah he reads cosmo, he’s too fucking good at it to not have been guided by the devine-feminine mind.

Mingyu’s mouth envelopes one of your nipples and his tongue rolls against it at almost the same pace and pattern he’s rubbing your own slick into your clit and that’s enough to send you over the edge. He tries to be patient, to let you come down before he goes reaching for a condom but he catches the time on his digital alarm clock, the numbers glaring at him in bright red.

It was already past midnight meaning having the house to himself is ending relatively soon.

You don’t need the extra recovery time though, in fact, it’s the opposite. What you need is more and you need it now. “Mingyu…” he hums in response and you will your mouth to work again, “Do you even play basketball?”

He huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. Poking your tongue in your cheek you nod and point to his shorts, “...Off.”

Mingyu grins as he leans down and kisses you before rolling out of bed and your lips turn up into a smile, a breathless laugh floating up into the air. He drops his shorts and steps out in white Calvin Kleins stretched taut over his golden thighs, showing off every inch of his assets, and you have to prop yourself up on your elbows to even get the full picture.

Move over Marky Mark.

You’re too busy staring at Mingyu’s body to notice him taking the opportunity to appreciate yours. It’s just a brief moment to sate both your curiosities because though neither of you would prefer to admit it, you’ve thought about each other naked and probably more than once. Getting handsy on your date gave you a bit of an idea but the overwhelmingly obvious dick print staring you in the face at the moment confirms your indecent theory about what Mingyu might be packing…

And that has got to be the ‘Pony’ Ginuwine was singing about.

When your eyes meet somewhere in the middle, you both turn away quickly, embarrassed only slightly for getting caught. It was a good feeling to know that the attraction is mutual. You hear a drawer close softly and feel the dip in the bed when he slides under the covers next to you. Rolling over, you land almost nose to nose and Mingyu grins, “I like it when you check me out.”

You answer him with a kiss that starts out innocently enough but it’s such a dizzying sensation to be so wrapped up in him that whatever witty retort you had been thinking of is lost in the way his fingers squeeze into your side. He sighs against your lips when he drags you closer and your thigh settles high on his hip, wrapping your body around him tightly. Without thought or hesitation, he drives his pelvis forward, rubbing his erection into your sensitive cunt.

It makes you break for air, drawing too much of it into your lungs just to sharply moan through the exhale when he doesn’t stop. The muscles in his arms are so taut beneath your fingers that you know he’s not doing it to tease you - he’s at his breaking point and really just can’t help himself.

One hand slides down and pushes against the waistband of his briefs, rolling the material down as best you can until it catches his attention so his can finish the job himself. He groans, mostly to acknowledge your intentions, but also because he’s slowly trying to reel himself back for a moment. Just long enough to peel the last bits of clothing off you both and get a rubber on. It’s probably one of the most ridiculously inconvenient things he’s been made to do in a long time.

Neither of you say a word as he rips open the foil, trying to keep his hands still enough to roll the condom on correctly. It feels like static in his veins, trying to sit still when everything inside his body is screaming go, go, go! You can feel it too, the buzz of anticipation, the pulse between your thighs.

Then, there is a pause after he rolls back over, covering your bare body with his own, and he just looks at you for a moment, mouth tight. Your hands slide over his arms, up his shoulders, and settle on his face. “Everything ok?”

“Just wanna do this right,” he whispers back, turning his face to kiss the palm of your hand.

The corners of your lips lift in a small smile. “Feels pretty right to me, if that helps.”

The tension in his shoulders melts away and he relaxes his pinched brows. “It does help,” he says, one big hand stroking the outside of your thigh around his waist, “Just…talk to me if there is anything you want or don’t like.”

“I will,” you reassure him and he eyes you wearily one more time until you sigh, “I promise.”

That seems to be enough for him as he shifts between your legs and you let your hands fold over his shoulders, trying hopelessly to relax your body when you feel his fingers on you again. He doesn’t keep them there long, just enough to make sure you’re still wet before he’s gripping his cock, guiding himself into your heat.

The pressure is immense and Mingyu feels you tense up beneath him. He pulls his other arm up and shifts his weight over to one side, grabbing your face with his free hand. “Breathe,” he says quietly, tipping your face up to look at him, “Just breathe, baby.”

Easier said than done but you exhale shakily and his thumb brushes against your cheek. Mingyu draws his hips back slightly and pushes further in, eyes falling to your mouth when it pops open. The feeling of fullness is all encompassing and all you can think about. So full you might burst at the seams but again, you will yourself to relax and he finally, finally bottoms out.

You let out a sharp breath and just can’t seem to catch it.

Mingyu seems unsure of whether he should move or not and he barely gets the question out before you’re nodding. The first few thrusts are still tender and he’s still mindful of that but after a minute or so, the tides turn and you’re digging your heels into his backside, pulling him deeper.

Mentally, emotionally, physically deeper.

He’s a romantic through and through, including in times like this where he’s drunk on pussy and pure infatuation. He can’t get enough. The way you feel around him, clinging to his body, hands against his chest, eyes glued to his. He’s in severely dangerous territory and clamps his lips shut until the words sitting there fizzle out. Patience is what he needs. In his mind and in his heart.

His body is on an entirely different page.

Mingyu is smooth and consistent in his movements, like water in and around you. His name spills from your lips reverently, whispered into the air between you and it feeds him, pushes him to fufill your needs in a way you knew deep down he would. He’s a pleaser in every way.

So, when you slow him down with your palms firmly planted against his chest, he stops and listens. His attentiveness almost makes it harder to speak.

“Can I uh…like would you mind if I…laid on my stomach?” you ask unevenly, not really sure why you’re hesitating to share what you want when that is what he’s asked of you.

Mingyu looks like he’s died and gone to heaven. He doesn’t even answer. Carefully, he pulls out and moves so he can roll you over, prop your hips up, and fill you right back up. This time there is no slow start. His hand settles on your back, just between your shoulder blades, and he holds you there, pinning you in place in such a way that your eyes close on contact. Perfectly content to stay put.

The room is filled with lewd noises. Skin slapping against skin. Deep grunting and moaning sounds mixed together. Your muffled voice chanting his name over and over again. Mingyu’s quiet praises tickling your ears when your head turns fuzzy.

It’s a good thing no one is home because it’s almost embarrassing how loudly passionate you both are. You regret not asking Mingyu to turn on the radio to drown out the noise but it’s too late now and with another tug upwards on your hips, he’s stroking your walls just right and you hit an entirely new set of notes.

Mingyu can feel you squeezing around him, mewling into his pillows and he’s hanging on for dear life because you’re still skirting around the edge and he’s seconds from toppling over. An idea pops into his head, a catch twenty-two really because in doing this, he puts himself at further risk of finishing first but it’s still too enticing to pass up.

Somehow, he manages to roll your bodies together until he hits the mattress, successfully claiming his spot as your big spoon. He hooks his left arm under your head so that it’s rested on his bicep while his hand is free to roam your chest and his right arm snakes over your hip before you feel his middle and ring finger slip between your folds.

With you tightly wound up in his hold he picks up a brutal, finishing pace. He hits all the right spots and works your body until you’re seeing stars. Your breathing now harsh and uneven limits your ability to speak but you don’t need to say anything at all.

Mingyu knows your coming and he’s going right along with you. When your orgasm hits, you bear down against him, crying out in broken sounds as he pumps his hips through his own release. He continues to hold you against his chest, gently kneading at the fleshy part of your hip.

He presses kisses against your hair and then carefully, he pulls out before rolling you onto your back. Mingyu’s smile is adoring and beautiful, it makes you want to bury your face in the pillows again. The blanket will have to do.

“Why are you hiding?” Mingyu chuckles, grabbing at the blanket, “Was it that bad?”

You flip the sheet down and give him a blank stare.

“Shut up,” you bite, a hint of a smile appearing, “You know it was good. Better than good.”

“How good?” he smirks.

With an eye roll, you pull the blanket up just high enough to cover the lower half of your face. “Really fucking good…and you’re not even slightly winded.”

He’s on top of the world.

“My stamina is just another one of my many desirable qualities,” he half-shrugs, “If you’re still not in love with me, I’m happy to keep trying.”

“Will you stop when I do?”

“Not a chance,” he grins, one hand squeezing your thigh as he swoops in to steal another kiss, “Stay with me tonight. I’ll make you anything you want for breakfast”

You pretend to think about it when you know you’ll say yes, and not just because you don’t have a car. A sleepover? With your hot boyfriend? Who just rocked your world and will probably do it again and then cook for you in the morning? Yeah, that’s a no-brainer.

“I could probably be convinced if you find me something comfy to wear and have a spare pack of noodles…I’m starving.”

Mingyu jumps out of bed, the sight of his bare cheeks making you turn and giggle. “I’m about to make you the best noodles of your life,” he walks over to his dresser pulling out underwear for himself, a clean t-shirt, and blue-plaid pajama pants, then he tugs open another drawer and turns to you, holding out a big soft-looking jacket, “I think you’ll like this one. I don’t have any pants that will fit you but this is pretty long. Oooh,” he pauses, “I didn’t think about underwear when I-”

“Ruined mine?” you raise your brow teasingly, sitting up and making grabby hands for the sweater he tosses to you.

He scoffs, tip of his tongue poking at his teeth. “Yeah, that’s my bad.”

Your voice is muffled as you pull the sweater over your head before climbing out of bed, pleased that it indeed covers you well. “It’s okay. It’s not the first time and I’m sure it won’t be the last. I’ve learned to keep an extra pair in my bag.” You mention this so casually that he’s stunned when you walk over to grab said panties from your bag and kiss his cheek before turning to leave, “I’m gonna go clean up. Meet you in the kitchen for those mind blowing noodles?”

Mingyu hollers back as you near the bathroom door. “I’ll blow your mind in the kitchen alright!”

He slumps against the dresser when he hears you respond with, “I’m sure you will, babe!”

Babe. Ugh, you’re so it for him.

The steam of the shower mixed with some kind of masculine aroma in Mingyu’s body wash gives off the same feeling of being in his arms and the thought warms your belly again. It’s almost embarrassing, how much you want him just after having him in full, but you’re sure he’d be happy to oblige even if you so much as hinted at it.

Maybe he will blow your mind in the kitchen.

As you’re wrapping up and getting dressed you hear music, oddly loud for the hour but it’s vaguely familiar, still muffled by the sound of the vents running to air out the steam in the bathroom. Then there’s a crash, not earth shattering but enough that you’re slightly concerned. You hurry to hang your towel and pull on your clean underwear and his sweater when you hear another bump against the wall. Then…singing?

“Kiss meeee out of the bearded bobby~”

“NIGHTLYYYY beside the greanbeann grass~”

You poke your head into the hallway, “Um…Mingyu?”

“SWIIINGG SWIINNG-”

“Swing the spinnnning stem~”

Definitely not Mingyu. Also, definitely not the right words to this song but your interest is piqued.

You come around the corner to find him in the center of the living room, quietly laughing, holding the hand of one of his very jovial (probably drunk) maybe roommates while the other (definitely drunk) maybe roommate is spinning around them in circles, bumping into things along the way.

The one with bright blonde hair pokes Mingyu mid-spin, “You wear the shoes and I’ll wear a dressss~”

Then the his drinking partner joins in and their both belting out, “oOHHH Kiss meeee, beneath the melting twilight~”

Mingyu points to the blonde and shouts over the noise, “That one’s Hoshi.”

“Lead meeee, out on the moonlit flooOr!”

He gestures at the one hanging off his arm, the tall boy with shaggy black hair, “This one’s Minghao. They’re plastered, obviously.”

They’re delightful and Hoshi is coming your way with a cat-like smile. He bows, almost stumbles, and reaches for your hand which you’re happy to share. “Lift your open hand…” he serenades, lifting yours into the air, “Strike up the band and make firefights dance silver moons sparkly~”

And he spins you away so quickly you almost stumble but Mingyu catches you around the waist with Minghao singing over your shoulder in a whisper, “So, kiss me.”

And Mingyu does, of course, he’s not going to miss the opportunity. Minghao grins, leaning against the wall to catch his balance, and Hoshi claps…a little bit like a buffoon but you really like them both. Mingyu must really love them because he doesn’t complain one bit about the noise and overly dramatic show, especially with it being your first impression. It helps that he knows how laid back you are and can see the delight still dancing in your eyes.

He does however, turn down the music on the stereo so everyone can talk without shouting.

“You do know you guys are supposed to be serving the alcohol…not drinking it…right?”

“Don’t be r- *hiccup* -rude!” Hoshi flaps his hand dismissively, “I’ll tell your pretty girlfriend about all the times we had to hold your hair back, our sweet little Mingoo ~”

Minghao giggles, bumping into Hoshi’s shoulder, “Or about how you,” he pauses, the two of them bursting into hysterics as Mingyu sighs like he knows what’s coming. Minghao wipes away a tear, still cackling, “About how you got totally tanked that weekend you first started working at Wheelie’s and whined alllll nighttttt-”

Hoshi whacks Mingyu’s shoulder laughing and then looks at you, “He wouldn’t shut up about you the entire night. Crying into his beer…because he thought you were dating the DJ.”

Your hand flies over your mouth, giggling up at your boyfriend who is being a really good sport right now. Even as he pokes his tongue into his cheek, shaking his head at his friends.

“Vernon and I were never dating,” you fake sniffle, “Sadly.”

“Sadly?!” Mingyu swings his head around toward you, “I thought the soulmate thing was a joke?” he laughs.

“Oh, baby, it is a joke,” you reassure him, patting his chest gently but just when he relaxes you whisper, “Until it isn’t.”

Hoshi sticks out his hand as he’s stumbling toward the kitchen and you land a low-five as he goes, and one up top when Minghao follows behind him excitedly mumbling about making drinks for everyone, then Hoshi is shouting about noodles ‘for the love of god, we need more noodles!’

Mingyu sighs and you know he’s about to complain that he no longer has you to himself. Can practically hear it in your head already. So, you cut him off before he can start, tugging him down into a kiss hot enough to make him groan against your lips as his hands dip down to take handfuls of you.

Then he’s laughing, falling out of rythym and you pull back, smiling. “What?”

You squawk in surprise when he smacks your ass and says, “You know you’re still not wearing pants, right?”

Actually, you forgot because of the whole song and dance thing.

“That’s embarrassing,” you mumble, tugging his sweater further down your thighs, “I could go throw my work pants-”

“I can try to find you som-”

You both look toward the kitchen when music starts playing and Mingyu shakes his head, almost regretting stowing his portable radio in there for when he’s cooking. It’s quiet for a few seconds and then, like someone cranked the volume all the way up, it’s starts blasting and they’re both singing.

“Ooooh baby, baybay, b-baby, baybaby, oooh baby-”

Mingyu just laughs. “On second thought, don’t even worry about it. They aren’t going to remember anything tomorrow morning anyway.”

“I like them,” you grin.

His shoulder shake with mirth, “Of course you do.”

You giggle when one of the guys starts shouting the words and grab Mingyu’s hand, pulling him along behind you. “Come on, noodles, drinks, Salt-n-Pepa,” he fake groans and you squeeze his hand, “This is the most fun I’ve had at a sleepover in years.”

Then he’s grinning, “Well, we can make it a regular thing if you want.”

You turn, just before you get to the kitchen and push up to kiss his cheek, “Whatever you say, Hot Wheels.”

“Oh, come on,” he drags his feet after you, “Can we pick a new nickname?!”

“Sure. Come on, Coach Kim. Let’s go play in the kitchen.”

He stumbles a step and shakes his head. “Am I supposed to pretend it doesn’t make me kind of horny when you call me that? God, please don’t hold that against me. I am only a man.”

Oh? Good to know. “Whatever you say, Coach.”

Thanks for reading! 💖

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→ Please do NOT copy, repost, or translate, any of my works here on tumblr or on any other platforms! All stories are copyrighted, Milfgyuu, 2019. ©️

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malereadermaniac · 1 year ago

Text

૮ • ﻌ - ა Smug and Rough ~ Wriothesley x Male Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Plot: His Grace has taken a liking to you - personally inviting you to his office gets thoughts rushing through your head (⸝⸝๑﹏๑⸝⸝)

Featuring: Top!Wriothesley x Bottom!Reader

Warnings: Nsfw / MDNI ~ amab m!reader / FDNI

It was common knowledge around the Fortress that The Duke had his favourites; however, some people had noticed that you were placed at an even higher esteem by his grace than even the renowned Traveler and Paimon. Every single time that Wriothesley would walk into a room he would scan for you, and if your eyes met his, The Duke would ensure to greet you by name - something that other inhabitants of the Fortress had never experienced. Moments of small talk were frequent between you and the handsome man, along with being given small benefits, such as finishing your work day early, seemingly for no reason - however, unlike yourself, those around you quickly realised that rather than randomly being taken a liking to, The Duke was flirting with you instead...

You were shockingly oblivious to this, however, which is fair as why would THEE Duke flirt with some petty criminal? But c'mon, it was so evident that Wriothesley was pulling out all the tricks in the bag to try to woo you! Small talk with him was always full of compliments on your looks or work ethic being thrown your way, and the body language between you two was straight out of a romance book; the taller man placing a strong hand on your shoulder and giving you the sexiest smile ever while telling you 'Your hands are too soft n pretty to be workin' for so long, take the rest of the day of'. Eventually, you had noticed the handsome man's advances, but you chose to ignore them, justifying Wriothesley's actions by way of you being delusional after catching feelings for The charming Duke; and how couldn't you of caught those feelings, this man's the whole package! Not only is Wriothesley physically attractive (with his taller, broader figure, masculine, veiny hands, muscular body and smug, sexy attitude and whatnot) but this man is THEE DUKE! Wriothesley is a powerful man (and he sure acts it), he owns a prison and has all these people act like submissive bitches around him, he gets paid a hefty sum and has his own building - how could you not get the hots for him!?!? But you kept those feelings inside, following your better judgment to keep them for lonely moments late at night, inside your quarters and in the comfort of your own bed...

That was until you were called to his grace's office one night. Standing in front of his office door, you feel tiny; the massive door daunting as thoughts rush through your head about what this 'meeting' could be about, are you in deep shit?! KNOCK KNOCK. You didn't mean for it to be so loud, but judging from the muffled 'Come on in!' it didn't seem too loud on the receiving end. After pushing open the door, you make your way inside The Duke's office - noticing its size is smaller than how the outside of the building makes it seem - your eyes immediately look towards Wriothesley, who is sitting at his desk, writing on some paper. The striking man merely spares you a glance, however, once he computes that it's you inside his office, The Duke stands up from his desk right away and gives you a smile. "[Name]! Welcome to my humble office, I'm honoured" The Duke says with a wide smile as he walks around to the front of his desk and leans against it. "I should be the honoured one, Your Grace" you say with a small, nervous smile - not only is his social stature making you nervous, but his rolled sleeves showing off his muscles and scars, and his sharp-featured face is too. "Heh... I suppose so, you look rather nice tonight - as always" Wriothesley compliments, his words shooting you in the heart with Cupid's arrow, making your face feel hot. The Duke looked incredible tonight, the lighting of his office showing off every strand of his dark hair, his white streaks shining and accentuating his attractive hairstyle. The ravenette's masculine body was just barely on display for you, his rolled sleeves teasing you with His Grace's muscular arms, and his gloves having been removed for the night ensured that you could get an eyeful of Wriothesley's rough, veiny, and large hands; The Duke's body language was also incredibly attractive, his leaning figure and sexy smirk as you ramble about your day after being asked was making your brain short circuit, and damn his nonchalant and attractive voice was what really made the blood rush to your head(s)!

After talking for a little while, once the current conversation was coming to a close, you decided to fill the comfortable (yet nerve-racking) silence with the question that has been on your mind all day. "Pardon my abruptness, Your Grace, but may I ask why I've been called to your office tonight?" You ask, sounding very prim and proper as to feel somehow on The Duke's level "Surely you couldn't be that oblivious? With the way I look at you? And the special attention I give you? Haha" Wriothesley chuckles to himself, finding your innocence and oblivious nature cute and amusing. And after a moment of silence from you, within which you gave an even more endearing confused look to The Duke, he decided to clear things up for you. "Come here and I'll let you in on a secret, [Name]" Fuck, you liked to hear your name come out of his mouth; Wriothesley sure knows how to get you to listen, cause you were following him like a puppy. With Wriothesley back in his chair, you stood in front of him, his knees on either side of your legs as you look down expectantly at the handsome man, who looks up right back at you with a sexy smile and a glimmer in his eyes. "I have a crush on you~" Wriothesley says in a lowered voice, dragging out the 'you' to comedically sound like a schoolgirl confessing her love. "Hmph.. That's not funny, Your Grace-" you mumble, your heart panging from the idea of the man you kinda have a thing for making a joke about that. You tried to move away from The Duke, however his large, sexy hand on your waist and the other holding your hand as he looked up at you prevented you from doing so "Stop calling me that. You can save that for the bedroom if you'd like, I'm not one to judge, but call me Wriothesley, darling" Your mouth went slightly agape at his interruption, your heart-rate increasing at the mere idea of Wriothesley reciprocating your feelings. "And I'm not joking, I've waited for this moment since the day I first met you... properly at least hah" The Duke chuckles, a smile still on his face as he brings your body closer to his, his head now resting against your abdomen as he looks up at you - FUCK HE LOOKS SO HOT! "Well... then I suppose the feeling's mutual..." you say with a chuckle, your head turning away from The Duke's as a warm heat fills your face. A wide smile makes its way onto Wriothesley's face at your response, his heart racing at the idea of finally being able to be with you after a long time of yearning and quiet pining. "Then I assume we should confirm our relationship in one way or another, don't you, my darling?" Wriothesley says with a sexy grin on his face as he removes his head from your body and instead manoeuvres you to sit on his lap; manhandling you with absolute ease.

At least half an hour had gone by, that time having been spent with you on Wriothesley's lap; his strong arms wrapped around your waist, not only making sure you couldn't leave but also holding your chest against his with the perfect tightness. Your crotch slowly grinds against The Duke's as your sounds of pleasure are eaten up by Wriothesley, whose lips were sealed against yours, his tongue swirling around your own and exploring your warm mouth as you both eat up each other's moans, groans, and whimpers of pleasure; courtesy of your dry-humping. Your fingers threaded through the taller man's locks as you kept your arms around his neck for support, and more soft, breathy moans escaped your lips when Wriothesley unravelled his muscular arms from your waist and moved his huge hands to grip and play with your ass. To prevent literally suffocating, you pushed your hands against The Duke's (fucking huge) chest in order to break the kiss; a thick string of saliva keeping your now plumped lips from Wriothesley's - the look on your panting, blushed face turning the man on, and the horny, hungry, panting look on Wriothesley's face turning you on. "Ha... Ha... Wanna take this... Ha.... to my quarters?" The dishevelled man proposes, his hair ruined from your fingers and sticking to his sweaty forehead "Damn right, I do~" You manage to get out, your lungs still searing with a desperation for oxygen. With that, Wriothesley stood up from his chair, his hands still on your ass to hold you up; your arms darting back around his neck as your legs do the same to his slutty little waist. The muscular man made his way to a door in his office and kicked the door open, locking it behind him after putting you down; now the smaller office makes sense, this man has A WHOLE BEDROOM INSIDE OF IT!

You take the opportunity to look around his room while Wriothesley locks the door - the last thing the man wants is his assistant or Sigewinne walking in. It was a nice room, simple; a couple of decorations hung up on walls, a window with documents on the sill, a king-sized bed with fresh sheets, and two nightstands with some random items on them like a picture frame, a Kamera, and some books. Your brief observation of Wriothesley's room was quickly interrupted by the man himself, a brief mumble of the word 'nosy' escaping his lips as his arms envelop you once more and his lips return to their rightful place; on yours. You can feel your heart beat like crazy as blood rushes to all parts of your body, Wriothesley moving the two of you to his bed as he continually makes out with you; the two of you end up on his bed very quickly, with you laying on your back and Wriothesley hovering over you, still kissing you. The man above you hastily removes your clothing, kissing down your body with every article of clothing he takes off of you, leaving small marks to cover and claim your body as his. Eventually, you are left completely naked below The Duke, his gaze roaming your body as he hovers above you, simply admiring you - and once he's had his fill, Wriothesley sits up on his knees above you and strips his own body of clothing, practically giving you a little show as he removes his top first to reveal his KILLER body, and then removes all else to finally show off his monster of a cock. "Heh... Like what ya' see, pretty boy?" Wriothesley says in a smug tone, giving you a sharp smirk as he looks down at you drooling over his veiny, thick, 7-inch dick, as well as his rock-hard 6-pack and plump pecs.

Preparing you didn't seem to take long, the two of you enjoyed every second of it so it probably took longer to loosen your hole than it felt like. Wriothesley couldn't take his eyes off of your hole, the way it tightened around his thick fingers and winked at him making his dick twitch - and you were a hot mess, moaning like a pornstar and moving your limbs uncontrollably on Wrio's bed due to his long, thick fingers fucking your hole loose and curling into your prostate. But the real fun started when Wriothesley knelt on his bed between your spread legs and placed one on each of his thick, muscular thighs; positioning his girthy dick at your hole. Starting slow, Wriothesley thrusts his dick in and out of your tight hole, his sexy voice groaning from the feeling of your warm, gummy walls around his dick; on the other hand, below the handsome man, you're moaning in rhythm with Wriothesley's thrusts, breathy whines and moans of The Duke's name escaping your throat every time his slightly curved cock pushes against your prostate. Once the desperation caught up to Wriothesley's however, things took a turn, his pace increasing in speed and roughness as the muscular man grips your thighs with his strong hands and starts drilling his dick in and out of you, forcing your back to arch up off of the bed from the pleasure from your ass. As Wriothesley's cock pounded its shape into your hole more and more, you lost more and more control over your body; the pleasure The Duke was providing you with made you writhe in pleasure on his bed, gripping at the sheets and rolling your entire head back onto the bed, letting Wrio only see your jaw and tongue hanging out of your mouth, a view which only turned the man on more. Plenty of praise and compliments fell out of The Duke's mouth, calling you good and pretty and tight, moaning your name out like a mantra as Wrio's thrusts became borderline sadistic, his cockhead pounding against your prostate with every thrust, milking you of precum. As the two of you kept fucking, your moans became louder and sluttier, turning Wriothesley on more and more; the view below him, of your back arched, limbs twisting, tongue hanging out, dick twitching just added on to Wrio's aching desperation for you - so much so that the man felt inclined to ensure he never forgets this moment. In the heat of the moment, Wriothesley found himself grabbing the Kamera on his nightstand and holding it out to take a selfie from above, snapping a sexy picture of his dick fucking your ass like crazy with you writhing like a bitch in heat, a condom packet in his mouth for an artistic touch (this man is so extra). You couldn't even register what was happening, your focus being on the fact that Wriothesley stopped fucking you in order to look at the freshly printed picture, so, you whine about it "Wriothesley...~ Put that down and keep makin' love t'meee" you say in a tone resembling a drunkard - which you may as well of been, Wriothesley getting you cockdrunk on his veiny dick. And this man wasn't going to say no to you - especially after being denied this pleasure for so, so long... The Duke had covered many different positions with you, having fucked you silly in doggy (with your back nearly breaking from arching down to the bed as Wrio held your arms back, shoving your face into the bed) and even fucking you in missionary for a romantic little break. Your ass was in plenty of pain after a solid 45 minutes of fucking, having been stretched out from Wrio's monster cock, your lungs were out of breath and your poor dick had been milked for all it was worth, small droplets of cum leaking out of your tip with every single one of Wriothesley's vigorous thrusts - you had already came, Wriothesley had not... HEY! This man is real good at sex, of course you'd orgasm before him!

But once the two of you had finally finished up, you both basked in the afterglow; Wriothesley more, who was feeling euphoric after shooting his thick load inside of your tight walls, you on the other hand were more so basking in the freedom from overstimulation... You were both laying on Wrio's bed, catching your breaths and cuddling - Wriothesley's big arm around your waist as his bare chest rested alongside your back. "So then... How would you rate your experience?" Wriothesley asks, a smile on his lips as he still feels happy tingles all over his body, his eyes roaming over your naked, marked-up body "A one... My ass fuckin' hurts so bad!" You remark, the pain in your ass coming to the forefront of your brain now that all the pleasure had dissipated "Aww~ does that mean my dick is big?" Wriothesley teases you, his dick already starting to harden again from the thought of him overwhelming you with his size "Shut up... you were real rough too, not that I hated it" You mumble, but in the comfortable silence of Wriothesley's bedroom, he could hear every word of yours "Yeah? Let's go again then, promise I'll be gentle this time, pretty boy~" The now raw, and rugged man chuckles from his remark, his arm now removed from your waist and his hand now instead spreading your cheeks and his masculine fingers gently playing with your rim, his cum leaking out slowly "I'll even use my tongue if you want" The man adds, the horny thought coming to him straight from his now fully re-hardened dick You couldn't deny the fact that his suggestion definitely sounded appealing - and that's how the two of you ended up going for another, more chill round of oral! In order to let you recover, Wriothesley stuck to his word and ate you out. This man made you all comfortable in his bed, put hundreds of pillows behind your neck and back, he laid between your legs and went to fucking TOWN. Your fingers were tightly pulling on the man's fluffy hair as Wrio lapped at your loose hole, shoving his tongue inside and pushing the warm, wet muscle against your walls as his thumb rubbed your rim gently, his other hand either spreading your cheeks for easier access or jerking off your dick. To say you were back to a moaning mess would be an understatement; you were in so much pleasure, Wriothesley can really use his damn tongue! This man didn't even give two shits that he could still taste himself inside of you, he just used his spunk as lube to get his tongue inside of your hole easier! As your moans of his name became louder and breathier, and your dick twitched in The Duke's rough hand, Wriothesley knew you were just about to cum once more - so this man took his hand from your spreading your cheeks and rubbed your under-thigh soothingly, working you through your orgasm as his tongue assaulted your prostate and his veiny hand gently jerked you off. With a loud, lewd slurp of his spit, Wrio sat up from your tasty hole and looked at you in your afterglow-ish state - his hair messy and his chin covered in his spit n cum "Ha... You enjoy that... Ha.. Sweet-thing?~" Wriothesley mumbles, his voice dripping in sex and smug. "Ha.... fuck yeah... I did" you say in between laboured breathes "Care toooo... Repay the favour?" The handsome man says with a chuckle as he holds his massive dick at the base and swings it around.

The sounds echoing around the room were even more obscene and filthy than before. You were positioned on your knees on the floor, at the foot of Wriothesley's bed, The Duke sitting on the edge of his bed with his fat cock shoved inside of your throat. You pleasantly surprised the tall man with your oral skills, being able to take a dick like his was not exactly easy as pie, but you sure made it work! What you couldn't take your hands would work on, and what was in your mouth felt heaven on earth, your mouth warm, wet, and slimy as your tongue bathed and cleaned Wrio's dick - his leftover cum from early along with his natural musk tasting salty yet so fucking addictive. Loud slurps echoed from your mouth as your spit trickled down The Duke's girthy cock, down his veins and covering his thick, scarcely pubed balls which were resting against your chin (in turn covering your chin in spit n leftover cum). The other lewd sounds harmonising with your own were from Wriothesley himself, groans of pleasure and moans of your name ringing pleasurably inside of your ears as Wrio's fingers tightly held your hair, making you look even more dishevelled and slutty as you gagged on Wriothesley's shaft. Eventually, you felt a warm stream of thick jizz shoot inside of your mouth, Wriothesley moaning above you as his naked body shined from his sweat and the lighting of the room; he looked fucking godly. And as the panting, blissful-looking man held your head up with his hand, he pulled his fat cock out of your mouth; Wrio ensured that you didn't swallow yet, wanting to see his cum in your mouth, holding your face up to look him in the eyes while you struggled to keep his thick cum from falling out of your mouth. SNAP another picture taken with his Kamera, this time of you on your knees, his finger forcing you to 'smile' as his thick spunk covers your teeth, lips and tongue; his hairy thighs n feet, as well as half of his semi-hard dick making a cameo alongside you. The kinky Duke grins and chuckles as he looks at the freshly printed picture, then looks back at you; who still has his cum in your mouth. "I suppose this makes us official now, huh?" Wriothesley says with a grin, squishing your cheeks with his rough thumb and other fingers to make you swallow. You grimace physically at the feeling and taste but give him a breathy 'yeah... If you want I guess', teasing the handsome man above you.

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unluckiestmember · 1 year ago

Note

can I request headcanons of x-men 97 team x reader who is an absolute sweatheart and is just the cutest thing to exist.

Coming right up!

X-Men '97 X Sweetheart! Reader

Characters: Nathan Summers/Cable, Scott Summers/Cyclops, Remy LeBeau/Gambit, Jean Gray, Jubilee, Erik Lehnsherr/Magneto, Morph, Kurt Wagner/Nightcrawler, Rogue and Logan/Wolverine.

Warning: Mild Cursing, but overall SFW.

A/N: Can I please get someone to remind me to actually post when I'm supposed to? Anyone? XD

Cable

“Time to get to work, keep up!… You want me to carry you? Heh, say less.”

Oh Nathan, Nathan, Nathan. He tries his best to be as tough and straight to business like his old man. Always a man to try and change the future and fight for the people with a straight face. But as soon as you’re around him, your sunshine energy radiates onto him. You make the freedom fighter have a need to impress you on the field when he’s not showering you in love outside of missions.

What really drew you to him was just how careful you were with his body. How you complimented his eye and stroked his robotic arm with so much care. It has made him really adore the end of the days where particular expeditions took a lot of energy out of you two, resulting in cuddles and sweet nothings. He never understood the whole concept of loving someone like his dad loved his mom, but after meeting you, he finally understood what they had was sacred. What you two had was sacred. Nathan has lost a lot in his life, but he’ll be damned if he loses you.

Cyclops

“Are you alright?! You’re not hurt, are you? I’m not overexaggerating- I’m worrying the right amount!”

Scott can be a pain in the neck during missions. He’s always one to bark out orders and keep a level head on missions as the leader of the X-Men. And if there’s one order that’s always on the top of his list, it’s making sure you are safe. He’s by all means not an overprotective or possessive lover, but he makes it a daily part of his life to always check on his beloved. Whenever you are just being yourself, you can find him staring at you, taking in your cute energy and reciprocating it with his own cute antics like kissing your cheek or giving you gifts when you least expect it.

Are the team a bit jealous of you having Scott’s favoritism? A bit. But hey, they’d rather someone like you have the best of Scott than the worst. Even if that also includes his defensive nature of you along with his jealous antics. He means well. You know it, sometimes you just have to remind him. Whether it be with a simple talk or a passionate kiss. Face it, you keep the leader of the X-Men grounded.

Gambit

“Ah, just the person I was looking for. Is it just me or are you getting more breathtaking every day, mon cher?"

When it comes to you, Remy is bound to flirt twenty four seven just to see that nice shade of pink color on your cute little cheeks. And if he cant succeed in that, he’s bound to have you smitten with his physical hold of your waist or his sincere compliments. He’s quite a charmer, anyone knows that, but with you, he adds another flare to himself; A sweet lover.

Gambit will always make it abundantly clear that you are the cutest person he’s ever met and how he can wager the perfect future with you by his side. Expect this man to shower you with surprise trips away from the mansion, a fresh breakfast almost everyday and a little card show if you are ever upset, because if there’s one thing he hates more than anything, it’s you being upset. You are the only one that can make Gambit so emotional because he just loves you so so much. And if you ever forget, he doesn’t mind reminding his raison de vivre.”

Jean Gray

“I wish you could see what was in my mind… Maybe then you’d realize how much you mean to me, my love.”

When it comes to Jean, you’ve basically hit the jackpot on one of the most open and loving girlfriends you could ever ask for. You aren’t just a sweetheart, you are her sweetheart. She always touches you like a porcelain doll, staring into your eyes with so much affection of her own and giggling whenever you hug or hold her, prompting her to hold you or hug you back just as tightly. On missions, she is in the zone, but as soon as they are over, she’s heading straight to you to check if you are injured. And if you’re not? Expect this woman to shower you in so many compliments and love that you might just drown from the cuteness.

Jean isn’t just your protector, but also your best friend, always free to try anything you want to try and do what you want to do.Dare she say, you might be the love of her life. Screw being lovers, she wants to be a married couple. But as much as that gets her excited, she’ll take her time for you, because she knows whether it takes her whole life or a single day, she doesn’t mind waiting for the fateful day.

Jubilee

“That was awesome! Did you see me out there- Did you?! Let me let you in on a secret; That last one was for you~!”

Because of how young she is and her lack of a love life, Jubilee is still pretty new to the whole dating and falling in love thing. But when she met you, she knew she was bound to fall in love with someone so positive and full of life. An embodiment of a firework if she said so herself. She always drags you around town with her to hangout at arcades or spend time in the mall grabbing lunch and doing cute couple things.

She cares about you enough to ask other X-Men members advice on how to treat you or show you how much you mean to her. It honestly impresses and shocks the team how this troublemaker tries her best to make you feel like the luckiest person in the world dating her. If she’s not showing her love for you through domestic activities, then look outside your window at night. You are bound to find Jubilee sending you love with her fireworks bound to make you giggle and smile. Which is always delightful because when you are filled with so much happiness, so is she.

Magneto

“What we have is stronger than any magnetic pull I’m capable of. It’s terrifying. But also magnificent.”

If you ever wanted to be treated like royalty, Magneto is the man for you. Erik treats you like you are a precious flower that could be destroyed by the mutant hating world around you. Because of this, he is so careful with you, yet not overbearing. If you want to hang out outside or simply hang out with him, he doesn’t mind as long as no one looks at you the wrong way or touches you with ill intent. Because if they do?… Let’s just say Magneto can do a lot with his powers.

When he’s not making sure you’re safe, he is awestruck at your innocence and your positive outlook on life. At first, he actually found your vision of the world to be immature, untrue and above all stupid. But the more he’s spent time with you, you’ve seem to have melted his cold heart a bit. Does he still think humanity is the scum of the Earth and nothing can change? Yes. But with you by his side, showing him what love, understanding and acceptance can be, maybe, just maybe, he can see where you’re coming from.

Morph

“Why the long face, babe? I can do a mean Magneto impression that’s sure to make you smile… Haha! There’s my love!”

Around people, Morph treats you almost like one of the guys, in a figurative sense. They don't treat you any differently from the rest of his friends and family within the team. But behind closed doors or when you two are alone, all bets are off. They are melting at your sweet nature and so quick to try to make you laugh, smile or get physical with them. Man, do they love when you get physical with him- They adore it!

But what they really loves is how caring and protecting of them you are. They've told you about their past, their run in with Mister Sinister and their time away from the team. And no matter how many nightmares or moments of body dysmorphia he experiences, they love how you are always there to pick up their loose pieces and put them back together with your gentle touch and gentler words. Because of this, they're always there to return the favor and comfort you as well when you are at your lowest. You are their best friend sorry Logan and their beloved and they wouldn’t want it any other way.

Nightcrawler

“Liebe meines Lebens. You never cease to take my breath away.”

Kurt is a pretty romantic person, especially when it comes to you. He showers you endlessly in love, rubbing his nose against yours, showering your face in kisses and becoming putty when you hold him, even if it’s just by his arm! He cherishes moments where the both of you hang out, especially by gardens where he makes cute flower crowns with you. Though just any moments with you are the highlight of his day. On missions, you two synergize perfectly well with the blue mutant complimenting you on your moves and takedowns of foes.

Kurt is an expert at physical touch for a love language, but he’s just as amazing with his words, especially with the nicknames he’s given you. He’ll make sure everyone knows that you are his Schatz, Herz, bessere Hälfte, and of course, Liebe meines Lebens. To you, he’s a lot like a little puppy; Full of energy and always waiting for your attention and affection given to him. The team thinks you two are cute even if they find it a bit annoying that Nightcrawler is always teleporting you two all over the place. It’s not too bad though since the sound of your mixing laughter is enough to make everyone’s hearts soar happily.

Rouge

“Hey, Sugar! I missed you so much today! Now come here, I at least want a hug!”

Rogue is super careful of you. You are just too precious to her and she doesn’t want to hurt or break you with her powers. So she makes sure you both have ways of showing one another how much you love each other, especially herself. Outside of soft hugs, she tries her best to give you a hand covered kiss. Though she can be super cheesy and exchange indirect kisses with rocks, feed you while chuckling at how adorably you stare at her like she hung the stars above. She’ll even have you both set up for dinner plans and fly you around in the sky if you ever want to destress from work as a X-Man.

You both have a cute relationship, even if there are moments where Rogue wonders if she deserves you or if she will ever be enough for you due to her destructive powers and the possibility she will never be able to touch you. These revelations have led to emotional nights, but the promise you make to touch her and make her the happiest woman in the world always makes Rogue realize that she is beyond lucky to have you. You make her want to find a way to touch you no matter what. And mark her words, she will.

Wolverine

“Woah, little pup. I was just gone for a few hours, you act like I went to war or something! Aw, screw it, come here.”

Logan has fallen in love with many men and women during his years of living. But damn has he never met anyone quite like you! When he met you, he thought your whole sweetheart shtick was fake, no offense. He thought it was some trick used to get people to lower their guards around you so you can get the upper hand on them. But when he found out you really were the sweet soul everyone hyped you up to be, he slowly but surely fell for you. He fell for how you spoke to him with such understanding and patience. The way you touched him was with the utmost care when you took care of him and helped him clean blood from your adventures with him that got out of hand.

Logan fights for many people, but for you he will kill anyone that hurts you or makes you cry. Your smile lights up his whole life, your laugh pushes him to be stronger to preserve it and your touch makes him feel alive in a world that always knocks him down. If it’s not the X-Men, Wolverine usually fights for himself and only himself. But now that he has you to lose, he fights for the both of you and a future where you both can live a peaceful life you’re both proud of.

If you got any requests for X-Men '97, Blue Eye Samurai, and or Arcane, send them my way!

Likes and retweets are always appreciated! I love you all, stay hydrated and have a good day! <3

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pumpkintushie · 2 months ago

Text

Flashed and Marked, Forever Mine.

NSFW fic 🔞Solivan Brugmansia x Fem! Reader

This is my first proper fanfic writing considering I usually draw sooooooooo I hope you enjoy.

ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ )

Please do not steal or copy my work ♥

Art by Fantasia TKaTB

Word Count: 1,600

Warnings: Smut, teasing, dominant behavior, public sex.

You had been teasing Solivan every second you could, reveling in the way his fingers twitched and his eyes roamed over you. Sneaky brushes of your arm against his, your fingertips dancing along the back of his arm as you walked with him. Solivan was at his breaking point, practically ready to throw caution to the wind and show you how much you affected him regardless of the busy sidewalk you two walked on. Your eyes were set on the arcade you were headed towards as the bright flashing lights and loud chimes sounded around you two.

”haah~…pumpkin you should know better then to tease me”…Sol said under his breath and with a strain in his voice.. “Heh…mmmn~…you’re soooo cute when you’re all flustered” you said back to him, finding his reddening cheeks endearing. You were practically tugged along and into the photo booth at the back that you two often frequented, but this time the atmosphere felt charged. Behind the curtain of the booth, his lips immediately crashed into yours catching you by surprise but you melted into him. Sol swallowed your breathy gasp with his lips as he resisted the urge to devour you right then and there. A press of lips turned into desperation, roaming hands and you could feel the heat pooling between your thighs at each slide of his tongue against yours.

How long had you two been kissing in the booth? It didn’t matter no, the only thing that mattered was the heat radiating off his body seeping into yours. Solivan pulled back just enough to look into your heavy lidded eyes brushing the pad of this thumb over your kiss swollen lip. He smirked then and slid the hand that was on your hip to your thigh squeezing it, he knew what he was doing and it sent bolts of desire straight to your core. Toying with the hem of your shorts his hand crept closer to where you needed him the most “nngh~…Sol..wait~” you breathed out even as your legs opened invitingly.

“Shhhhh..…you’re going to be a good girl and stay quiet for me…right?” he said with a grin making his piercings glint in the dim light behind the curtain. The world outside the photo booth faded away as all you could focus on was his eyes that seemed to dance with mischief. You silently nodded, feeling a heat crawl up your neck as he pushed the crumpled bills into the photobooth.

“GET READY FOR YOUR PHOTOS- SELECT YOUR FRAME” the automated voice came out like a shrill practically making you jump as you were so entranced by the way his fingers moved, he noticed, of course he did and that elicited a dark chuckle from him. Slowly his fingers crept higher and higher teasing under the hem making your brows furrow at him. “Sol… what are you planning?” you said but it came out more like a whine, he ignored you and pressed the sleek black frame.

“GET INTO YOUR SILLY WACKY POSES FOR THE PERFECT PHOTO MEMORY” the voice cut through the air again, gods was it always this loud? Before you had even a second to process what pose you may want to do, a large palm pressed over your mouth and his other hand hooked around the crotch of your shorts tugging them to the side. “Pumpkin, we’re going to capture some memories alright” he purred out with a wolfish smile as the two of you appeared on the small screen. “Mmnnhhpppf!” you huffed out into his palm pinching your brows together feeling the cool air of the booth hit your feverish exposed skin.

The time seemed to slow as you felt those all too familiar fingers slide through your glistening folds and the most pitiful sound came from your lips. “Heh…you’re so wet..is this all for me?” Sol teased with that same wolfish grin, gods you swore you could see his eyes darkening as he looked at the mess you were becoming. Your eyes flicked to the little screen seeing you two from the waist up hiding the hidden touches he was stealing below. “Pumpkin, eyes on me..” he said, keeping his palm over your mouth but turning your head to face him as he pressed his finger against the sensitive bud that ached for him. That press made your hips roll forward wantonly and you were thankful that your reddening cheeks were covered by his hand.

“GET READY…..ONE….” The automated voice rang out as he circled your clit leaning his head to the side watching you with a predatory glint in his eye, the strain in his pants all but growing at the needy sounds being muffled by his hand. “...TWO..” Sol grinned wider as his fingers moved in tight circles, the pleasure radiating through your core was making your breaths come out in short quick bursts. “THREE!-” Snap~ the booth camera went off forever immortalizing your cruel punishment for teasing him, and what was worse? There was more frames to be taken and he was just getting started.

“You know, you're so beautiful when you fall apart for me” he purred against your ear, tightening his grip on your mouth as your warm breath from your nose ghosted over his knuckles. The automated voice said something similar than before but you couldn't focus, how could you when his words were dripping with sin and he was wringing out your pleasure? It felt so damn embarrassing knowing how much of a mess you were making in your shorts, your lace panties all but becoming a second skin clinging to you along with your damn shorts. Snap~ the lense captured his lips to your ears and your eyes going glassy, you were practically drooling into his palm.

Solivan turned your head forward facing the lens, opening your neck up to his greedy mouth. “Keep your eyes on the camera.” it was a command and the way he said it sent a shiver through your spine. His fingers became more demanding on your skin and his own hips canted up against nothing but the tightness of his pants. “Mmmnnh!~” the needy sound was muffled by his hand because that was his to hear, his alone. “M’Fuck…Im going to make you fall apart” Solivan growled into your skin but only loud enough for you to hear. He could hardly take it the friction of his too tight pants pressed deliciously against his cock, if it weren't for his dark pants he would look just as much of a mess as you were right now.

You. Were. Aching. For him. His lips and tongue on your sensitive neck made your skin flush and his hot breath rippled goosebumps across your skin. Solivan’s dexterous fingers slid between your slick heat and teased at the place you needed him the most. Schlick~ the audible squelch of his finger sliding effortlessly into your pussy sounded in your ears in the hidden place behind the photo booths curtain sounded in your ears.

Snap~ The camera you were facing captured your eyes fluttering closed with a fucked out expression on your face. You were truly a mess, but his mess nonetheless. Solivan’s eyes flicked to the screen seeing your eyes closed and he pressed his finger deeper inside you curling it as he breathily whispered into your ear. “Pumpkin, you’re going to keep your eyes on that camera. Eyes. Open….or you’ll be punished when we get back.” another command, a warning that made you clench around his digit.

“Fuck…look at you” Sol said thick with need curling his finger out of you only to replace it with two digits, this made you cry out into his palm that he held tightly against your mouth. Pumping his fingers in and out of your wetness his teeth began to dominate your neck. The muffled moans were caught but occasionally slipping between his digits making his cock throb and leak into his boxers. You were transfixed on watching him through the grainy screen, watching him suck love letters into your skin and marking you as his. Snap~ Captured and enraptured by the punishment and worship he was giving you.

It was too much, the slide of his fingers inside you coiling heat inside you like a spring ready to snap and then it happened. Squeezing around his digits your walls fluttered as Sol shattered you completely, you hadn’t even noticed him pull back to watch you come undone because your eyes were nearly rolled back.Snap~ “Haaaah~ yes, that's it! Fucking break for me” he said with ragged heavy breaths as he fell apart from the friction of his tight pants and purely by watching you crumble for him.

Solivan slowed his pace and then pulled his fingers out of the mess you made, your eyes lazy and trying to focus on him seeing his own fucked out expression. Your flushed face came into full view as he released his hand from over your mouth but only to hold your jaw in his grip. Holy fuck, you could only hazily think before he made a show of bringing those digits to his lips and licking them clean while you watched. Snap~ the final photo took showing you two, utterly ruined.

Solivan moved your damp shorts back into place but not before snatching up the polaroid strip into his greedy hands. With twitching fingers, he held the strip raking his eyes over every detail of his newest obsession, before looking at his most prized possession. Fucked out, utterly ruined, marked in bites and hickeys and so his. “You're so fucking perfect so fucking mine, and only m i n e.” he said before capturing your lips again, his mind racing with every way he would show you just how much he meant his words, his promise.

Find my spicy art here ➺PumpkinTushie🎃 (@PumpkinTushie) / X

#fanfic #writings #reader insert #the kid at the back vn #the kid at the back sol #the kid at the back x reader #tkatb vn #the kid at the back #tkatb #solivan brugmansia #solivan x reader #female reader #smut #solivan brugmansia x reader #fem reader #x reader #spicy art #solivanbrugmansia #PumpkinTushie

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hyuniemyunie · 4 months ago

Text

In Stronger Arms

itto, wriothesley, neuvillette, kaveh and childe x gn!reader

sfw

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(ФωФ): fluff, established relationship, you burst into the room. and pick your man up. simple. I CAN DO LIKE..MOST GENSHIN MEN. NOT FROM NATLAN. I DONT LIKE NATLAN. i love itto tho my beautiful himbo. kaveh too my persian queen

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･

Claimed by Love

The headquarters of the Arataki Gang was always loud, but today, it was especially chaotic. Raucous laughter echoed through the wooden walls, the scent of grilled food and mischief thick in the air. The gang was in the middle of some absurd game—it looked like a mix of sumo wrestling, a beetle battle, and an eating contest all at once.

And, at the center of it all, was Arataki Itto.

Your beloved himbo of an oni was hyping up the crowd, his wild silver hair a mess from all the excitement, crimson eyes gleaming like a kid who’d just been promised unlimited candy. His jacket was barely hanging onto his shoulders—probably the victim of his overenthusiastic movements—and his laugh was loud enough to shake the walls.

You had been gone for a few days on a commission outside Inazuma City, and while it wasn’t that long, it was long enough for you to crave the warmth of your giant, affectionate idiot. Sure, you had exchanged letters and the occasional, dramatic "I miss you soooo much, babycakes!!" sent via some poor, exhausted Tenryou Commission member forced to deliver Itto's messages. But nothing could compare to actually being with him.

So, the moment you arrived back in town, you didn’t waste a second. You didn’t stop by your house. You didn’t even drop off your travel bag. You went straight to the Arataki Gang’s hideout, marching in with one goal in mind.

Claiming your man.

The second you stepped inside, all eyes turned to you. Some of the gang members, like Shinobu, sighed in relief, knowing your arrival meant their leader might calm down. Others were too engrossed in whatever dumb game they had going on to pay much attention.

Itto, however?

The moment he spotted you, his ears perked up, his grin widening into something radiant. "Babe! Baby! Sugar plum! My little oni snack! You're back!" He moved to stand up, probably intending to run toward you, but before he could even take a step—

You marched forward, grabbed him by the waist, and effortlessly lifted the massive oni right off the ground.

The entire room froze.

The gang collectively gasped as their towering leader—this massive slab of muscle, nearly twice your size—was hoisted into the air like he weighed nothing. Someone knocked over a plate of dango. Someone else dropped their chopsticks. Even Shinobu, the ever-composed girl, blinked in stunned silence.

Meanwhile, Itto let out the most delighted laugh, wrapping his arms around your shoulders like a giant koala. "Whoa-ho-ho! That’s my baby! So strong! So cool! Heh, didn’t know you missed me this much!"

Without breaking stride, you turned to the dumbfounded gang members and, in the most nonchalant tone imaginable, declared, "Sorry, guys. Cuddle time. I missed my man."

Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, you carried their hulking leader right out the door.

You could hear the gang erupt into chaos behind you.

"WHAT JUST HAPPENED?!"

"Did you SEE the way they just picked him up?!"

"Boss looked so happy though…"

"Man… I wanna be carried like that…"

"SHOULD WE STOP THEM?!—"

"…Nah, they look like they need this."

You ignored the chatter as you carried Itto all the way to his personal room—a cozy, slightly messy space that smelled like him (a mix of pine, fresh air, and something sweet, like dango). You kicked the door shut behind you and finally—finally—plopped down onto the futon, keeping Itto securely wrapped in your arms.

He instantly melted against you, resting his full weight on you with zero shame, his horns bumping against your head as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

"Mmm… best welcome home ever," he murmured, voice thick with affection. His big hands traced absentminded circles against your back, and he sighed contentedly. "You’re so warm… I missed you so much, babe. You got no idea how hard it was without you."

You chuckled, pressing a kiss to his temple. "Oh, I know exactly how hard it was. You sent me, like, ten letters a day."

"Yeah, but—but—letters ain’t the same!" He pouted, puffing out his cheeks before pressing a smothering kiss to your jaw. "I need my cuddle privileges! I need my sweet little dango dumpling! my snuggle bug supreme! my one and oni!"

You rolled your eyes, but your heart was practically bursting with warmth. He was so ridiculous. So dramatic. So completely and utterly Itto.

And you wouldn’t have him any other way.

"Well," you murmured, tightening your arms around him, "lucky for you, I also need my cuddle privileges." You ran a hand through his messy silver hair, feeling him shiver under your touch. "You have no idea how much I missed you."

Itto practically purred, pressing closer, his body heat sinking into you. "Really? Like, really really?"

"Like really really really."

He let out a giddy chuckle, holding you even tighter—if that was possible. "Guess I should get kidnapped more often, huh?"

You snorted. "Oh, I am kidnapping you regularly now. This is your life."

"Oh nooo," he drawled dramatically, despite looking like the happiest oni in the world. "Guess I just gotta live like this… trapped in the best cuddles ever… sigh, what a tragedy…"

You flicked his forehead playfully. "Stop acting like you’re suffering."

"Never!" he declared before kissing you square on the lips, all teeth and joy.

And just like that, the world outside didn’t matter. Not the chaos of the gang, not the commissions, not the responsibilities. Right now, it was just you and your ridiculous, oversized oni, tangled together in warmth and love.

And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Tidal Claim

The Fortress of Meropide was as busy as ever, though the bustle here was a quiet, controlled one. Prisoners moved under the watchful eye of guards, machinery hummed in the distance, and the scent of metal, salt, and damp stone filled the air.

At the center of it all, overseeing some kind of legal review, stood Neuvillette.

Dressed in his pristine coat, posture regal yet relaxed, he exuded authority in a way that made people naturally lower their voices in his presence. He was listening intently as Wriothesley spoke, his cool gaze focused, hands resting behind his back.

And then the door slammed open.

A few guards instinctively reached for their weapons, but they hesitated upon recognizing the figure striding in. They exchanged nervous glances, unsure if they should intervene, but Neuvillette himself gave no such indication.

Instead, his expression softened—so subtly that most would miss it.

The way his eyes lingered on you, the way his shoulders eased just slightly—it was imperceptible to most, but you knew better.

Still, you wasted no time on pleasantries. You marched straight across the room, past baffled onlookers, and, without hesitation, wrapped your arms around him.

And lifted him.

The entire room stilled.

The silence was so absolute that the distant sound of water dripping into the underground canals echoed like a thunderclap.

The Iudex—Fontaine’s highest authority, the very person who embodied justice—was being picked up like a damsel in some grand romantic gesture.

Wriothesley had to physically stop himself from laughing, pressing a fist to his mouth as a muffled sound escaped. Clorinde, who had just entered the room, visibly hesitated between drawing her weapon and pretending this wasn’t happening. A few guards looked seconds away from fainting.

But Neuvillette?

Neuvillette simply exhaled through his nose—a soft, barely audible sound of amusement. His long hair spilled over your shoulder, cascading like a silken waterfall as he allowed himself to be held.

"You’ve returned," he murmured, voice steady, but there was something fond underneath.

You turned to the utterly bewildered onlookers and, without a single ounce of shame, announced, "Sorry, everyone. Urgent business. I’m stealing him for a while."

Then, with effortless strength, you carried him straight out the door.

The stunned silence behind you lasted for a full five seconds before the murmuring exploded.

"Did—did they just take Monsieur Neuvillette?"

"Carried him? Like a bride?"

"Wriothesley, aren’t you going to stop them?!"

"Why would I? That was the best thing I’ve seen all week."

You ignored them all, your focus solely on the man in your arms.

Despite his usual composed nature, you could feel the way his fingers lightly curled against your shoulder, the way his body relaxed into yours. He was never one to express his emotions outwardly, but he did have ways of showing them—small, subtle gestures meant only for those who knew where to look.

The moment you reached his private quarters, you nudged the door open with your foot and stepped inside, finally setting him down onto the plush chaise lounge near the window.

And yet, even as his feet touched the floor, he made no move to leave your embrace.

Instead, his hands rested lightly against your waist, a quiet tether keeping you close. His gaze, those ethereal eyes, studied you with the patience of a man who had spent centuries watching the tides.

"You must have been quite restless in my absence," he finally murmured.

"You have been working yourself into the ground again," you countered, fingers moving to brush a few stray strands of silver from his face. "And you know how I get when I miss you."

A faint hum of acknowledgment left his lips. "Yes. You make rather dramatic entrances."

"And yet, you let me carry you off in front of half of Fontaine."

His fingers tightened—just barely—against the fabric of your clothing. A rare, fleeting smirk touched his lips. "I find it… difficult to deny you."

That was as close to an open confession as you were going to get, and Archons, you weren’t going to waste the opportunity.

Leaning down, you pressed a lingering kiss against his forehead, letting your lips linger against the cool skin. The scent of freshwater clung to him, crisp and untainted, like the mist that clung to Fontaine’s waterfalls.

Neuvillette closed his eyes, exhaling as if releasing some unseen weight from his shoulders.

For all his strength, for all his control over the very rain itself, he was… lonely. You knew this. You knew how he often stood atop the highest points in the city during storms, watching over the people yet never truly among them.

And so, you held him a little tighter.

"You know," you murmured against his skin, "I do intend to steal you like this more often."

His eyes opened, a single silver brow arching in mild amusement. "Is that so?"

"Oh, absolutely. I might even start keeping you all to myself. How scandalous would that be?"

A slow, rare chuckle escaped him—a deep, smooth sound that made your chest warm.

"I suspect Fontaine would demand its Iudex back," he mused. "But… perhaps I would not mind being claimed by you for a time."

Your heart skipped a beat.

Of course, Neuvillette would never openly say something as simple as I missed you or I love you. But you had learned how to read the currents beneath his words, and this?

This was as clear as the still waters before a storm.

Your arms tightened around him once more before you finally, finally sank down onto the lounge beside him, keeping him pressed close.

Neuvillette let himself relax against you, his head resting lightly against your shoulder. His long hair spilled over both of you like moonlight, his presence cool yet soothing, like the calm before rain.

You sighed, running gentle fingers through his hair. "You’re so dramatic, you know that?"

"Am I?"

"Mm. All broody, all serious… but then you let me pick you up like some helpless maiden."

Neuvillette made a small sound—something caught between a sigh and quiet amusement. "I let you because you would not be deterred otherwise."

"Exactly. You’re learning."

Silence settled between you, but it was a comfortable one. Outside, the distant sound of water lapping against the stone walls filled the air. The world could wait. For now, it was just the two of you, tangled together in quiet understanding.

And when Neuvillette shifted just slightly, pressing a barely-there kiss against your temple, you smiled, pressing one right back against his jaw.

It seemed the storm had finally found its harbor.

Swept Off His Feet

Kaveh was in the middle of yet another passionate rant when you entered the room.

The House of Daena was dimly lit, the soft glow of hanging lanterns casting warm light over the bookshelves. Scrolls, blueprints, and reference materials were scattered across the table where Kaveh sat, his blonde hair slightly disheveled, his hands moving wildly as he argued with—

No one.

Well, technically he was talking to Alhaitham, but his ever-exasperating roommate had tuned him out at least ten minutes ago, flipping through a book without so much as a glance in Kaveh’s direction. That, of course, only made Kaveh talk more, his hands gesturing dramatically as he vented about some ridiculous architectural injustice or another.

And then you walked in.

The moment Kaveh spotted you, his entire demeanor shifted. His eyes lit up, his hands dropped mid-gesture, and for a split second, his mouth opened and closed as if forgetting what he was saying.

Alhaitham, sensing his chance to escape, immediately shut his book, stood, and muttered something about finally, a distraction, before disappearing between the shelves.

Kaveh barely noticed.

He was already pushing himself up from his chair, a delighted grin forming. "Oh! You’re back! I didn’t know you’d be here so soon, I—"

Whatever he was about to say next was lost to the air.

Because in one smooth motion, you stepped forward, wrapped your arms around him—

And lifted him clear off the ground.

The entire library fell silent.

A scholar on the upper level dropped their pen. A passing student halted mid-step, nearly tripping over their own feet. Even the ever-stoic librarian raised an eyebrow.

Kaveh, meanwhile, made a very undignified squawk.

"Wh—what—?!" His arms instinctively flailed before wrapping around your shoulders in sheer survival instinct. "Wha—what do you think you’re doing?!"

You adjusted your grip, holding him effortlessly against you. "Hmm, well..I missed you."

And, as if you hadn’t just lifted one of Sumeru’s most dramatic architects in front of an entire scholarly audience, you simply turned and walked right out the door with him in tow.

Kaveh, despite all his dramatic protests, had clung to you like a lifeline the moment his feet left the ground. His entire body was tense, his hands gripping your shoulders, his face practically buried in your neck.

"I—I can walk, you know!" he stammered, voice high with flustered indignation. "This—this is highly improper! Highly—"

"You don’t seem to be fighting me that hard."

His mouth opened—then closed. Then opened again. Then—

"...That’s not the point!"

You laughed, squeezing him just a little before finally stepping into your shared living space. Kicking the door shut behind you, you carried him straight to the lounge, where you finally, finally sat down—keeping him securely in your lap.

Kaveh immediately buried his face in his hands, groaning. "I’ll never live this down," he mumbled. "I’ll never be able to step foot in the House of Daena again without someone mentioning this."

You smoothed a hand through his golden hair, reveling in how soft it was beneath your fingers. "You say that like I won’t do it again."

His fingers parted just enough for one red eye to peek through, glaring at you half-heartedly. "You would," he accused.

"Of course I would. Look at you." You poked his cheek. "All cute and flustered."

Kaveh made a strangled noise, dropping his hands and dramatically flopping against your chest. "I can’t believe you," he muttered.

"You love me," you reminded him.

"...I do," he admitted begrudgingly, though his arms remained wrapped around you, refusing to move.

Silence stretched between you, comfortable and warm. You ran your fingers through his hair again, and he sighed, practically melting against you.

"You really did miss me," he murmured after a moment, voice softer now.

"Obviously." You kissed the top of his head. "And you missed me too."

Kaveh let out a long sigh, nuzzling closer. "...Fine. Maybe I did." His fingers curled lightly against your shirt. "I hate it when you’re gone for too long. Feels like something’s missing."

Your heart swelled.

"I’m here now," you murmured.

Kaveh huffed, but his hold on you tightened. "...Good."

And just like that, he let himself sink into your arms, the stress of the day fading away.

Perhaps being swept off his feet wasn’t so bad after all.

Weightless

The Fortress of Meropide ran like a well-oiled machine, its underground halls bustling with the usual controlled chaos. Workers moved crates of supplies, guards patrolled the walkways, and prisoners shuffled through their daily routines.

And right at the center of it all, Wriothesley stood in his office, arms crossed as he listened to one of his subordinates give a report. His expression was calm, composed—regal, even. If anyone were to walk in, they would think he was the very picture of control.

What they wouldn’t see was the exhaustion he was trying to hide.

He had been at this for hours, barely pausing to sit, let alone take a proper break. His knuckles were faintly bruised from earlier training, his coat was hanging loosely off his shoulders, and despite the commanding presence he still exuded, you could tell he needed a moment of peace.

So you decided to give him one.

By force.

The doors to his office swung open with little ceremony, making the guard mid-report flinch. Wriothesley, however, didn’t startle—he simply looked up, his tired eyes softening the moment he saw you.

You didn’t greet him. Didn’t offer a single explanation.

You just walked right up to him, reached out—

And lifted him.

Wriothesley barely had time to react before his feet left the ground. His coat, already loose, slipped off entirely, falling into an undignified heap on the floor. His arms instinctively went around your shoulders, more out of shock than anything else.

The guard who had been giving the report froze mid-sentence, mouth hanging open. The clerks working in the back stopped writing, staring in disbelief. Even Sigewinne, who had just peeked in to deliver some documents, let out a delighted giggle.

But you?

You didn’t care about any of them.

“Sorry, everyone,” you announced casually, adjusting your grip on the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide as if he weighed nothing. “I'm kidnapping him.”

And with that, you turned and strode out of the room, carrying Fontaine’s most dangerous fighter like he was a newlywed bride.

The silence left in your wake was deafening.

—

Wriothesley didn’t say anything for a while. He just let himself be carried, his head resting against your shoulder, his breath warm against your neck.

You made your way through the fortress with ease, completely unfazed by the shocked stares of guards and workers alike. Some prisoners muttered amongst themselves, a few letting out whistles or outright gasps.

“Hey, Wriothesley!” one of them called. “Didn’t know you could get carried off like that!”

“Heh, ‘bout time someone knocked him down a peg,” another chuckled.

Someone else asked if this was some kind of training method.

Wriothesley ignored all of them, his grip on you tightening slightly.

Finally, once you reached his quarters, he sighed and let out a quiet chuckle. “You really have no shame, do you?”

You nudged the door open with your foot. “Nope.”

“I had a meeting.”

“They’ll survive.”

“You carried me.”

“Sure did.” You stepped inside and finally set him down onto the couch—though you didn’t go far, immediately climbing in after him, effectively caging him in with your presence.

He exhaled, shaking his head. But instead of moving away, he reached for you, tugging you closer until your bodies were flush against each other. His arms wrapped around your waist, his grip firm, unyielding.

“…Thanks,” he murmured against your skin.

You hummed, resting your chin atop his head. “You work too much.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It is when you don’t take breaks.”

He let out a soft chuckle, fingers tracing absentminded patterns against your back. “If I knew this was your way of making me rest, I would’ve started slacking off ages ago.”

“You say that, but we both know you’d rather collapse than admit you’re tired.”

He didn’t deny it.

Instead, he let himself relax against you, the tension in his body melting away little by little. His heartbeat was steady beneath your touch, the warmth of his body grounding, soothing.

“…You really missed me that much, huh?” he finally asked, his voice quieter now, softer.

You didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, you ran a hand through his hair, letting your fingers rake through the dark strands, feeling the way he sighed under your touch.

“…Yeah,” you admitted. “I did.”

He hummed, pleased, his arms tightening around you. “…Then I guess I’ll let it slide this time.”

You grinned. “Oh, you’re letting me? That’s cute.”

“I’m being generous.”

“Mmhm. Sure.”

He laughed, the sound deep and rich, before he leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to your collarbone. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“I am pretty lucky, huh?”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t let go, didn’t pull away. He just sighed and buried his face in your shoulder, letting himself rest.

And really, that was all you wanted.

—

The Fortress of Meropide would still be there when he returned. But for now, the Duke of the Fortress was off duty.

Because you said so.

Tideswept

It was chaos in the Fatui headquarters.

Recruits scrambled through the halls, shouts echoing from every direction as agents rushed to deliver reports, fulfill missions, and, most importantly, stay out of Childe’s way.

Because their beloved Harbinger, No. 11 of the Fatui—Tartaglia—was pissed.

He stood in the middle of a meeting room, fists clenched, his coat slightly askew, glaring daggers at the unfortunate squad captain before him.

“Gone?!” His voice was sharp, slicing through the tense air like a blade. “What do you mean my men are gone?”

The captain flinched. “Sir, I—I meant that they were ambushed and—”

Childe turned sharply, pacing toward the table with a snarl of frustration. His mind was already calculating, shifting gears, deciding the next move—

Until the doors slammed open.

The entire room froze.

And then, before anyone could react, before Childe himself could react, you stepped forward—

And promptly threw him over your shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

The room went silent.

A recruit choked on air. A captain nearly dropped their report. One unfortunate soldier let out a startled squeak before slapping a hand over their mouth.

Childe, for his part, had a full second of absolute lag before his brain caught up with what had just happened.

And then—

“WHAT—?!”

The recruits watched in absolute horror as their Harbinger—their Commander—flailed in your grasp like a caught fish.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Childe yelped, his voice slightly muffled as he twisted in your hold. His hands scrambled against your back, his coat hanging limply as if it had also given up.

You adjusted your grip, patting his thigh like one would a particularly misbehaving puppy. “Calm your ass down”

And then you walked out.

With Tartaglia.

Over your shoulder.

Like he weighed nothing.

The stunned silence you left behind was something else.

—

Childe continued flailing all the way down the halls.

“Okay, okay—I get it! Ha-ha, you’re strong! You can put me down now!” He kicked his legs, which you immediately tightened your grip on to keep still.

“Nope.”

“I can walk!”

“Too bad.”

“You’re embarrassing me in front of my subordinates!”

“Good.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?!”

“Oh, absolutely.”

Childe groaned, dramatically letting his head fall against your back. “You do know I’m supposed to be terrifying, right?”

“You?” You patted his ass with exaggerated gentleness. “Terrifying? Aw, you’re adorable.”

He huffed—actually huffed, like a spoiled child denied extra dessert. “I am terrifying! I could kill someone with my bare hands!”

“You could also kill someone with cuteness. I think both are equally deadly.”

“…You’re the worst.”

“You love me.”

“…Damn it.”

—

By the time you reached your shared home, Childe had stopped struggling.

You kicked the door open, made your way to the couch, and ungracefully plopped him down.

He landed with a soft “oof,” immediately sitting up and rubbing his forehead.

“Okay, seriously,” he huffed, running a hand through his hair. “What was that?”

You flopped down beside him, draping yourself over his lap. “A rescue mission.”

Childe blinked. “A what?”

You poked his chest. “I could hear you yelling from halfway across headquarters. You were stressing yourself out again, weren’t you?”

Childe opened his mouth to argue—paused—then let out a long sigh, running a hand down his face. “…Maybe.”

You poked him again. “You definitely were.”

“Fine,” he muttered, grabbing your hand before you could poke him a third time. His thumb brushed against your knuckles, absentmindedly tracing over your fingers. “…Things have been a mess lately. More than usual.”

“I know.” You softened, pressing your forehead against his shoulder. “You push yourself too hard.”

“It’s my job,” he murmured, voice quiet now, lacking its usual bravado.

“It’s also your job to rest.”

Childe exhaled, his fingers tightening slightly around yours. For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then—

“…You really missed me that much, huh?” His voice held the slightest teasing lilt, but there was something genuine beneath it, something warm.

You nudged your nose against his neck. “Of course I did.”

“…Hmph.” His free hand wrapped around your back, pulling you closer, tucking you against him as if shielding you from the world. “…I missed you too.”

You smiled. “Knew it.”

“Shut up.”

But he didn’t let go.

And neither did you.

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mooooonnnzz · 10 months ago

Note

hi!!! I fell in love with your content and I wanted to make a little request, since it was on my mind for a while...

It's kinda cringe but I saw your hc's/fic about Stan's and Ford's reaction to their daughter having a partner, but what would they say about the break-up??? how would they react?? 💔💔

I'm Glad There Is You

Stan + Ford HC's of you getting broken up with!

ʚ♡ɞ 4,2k words

ʚ♡ɞ we're so back

ʚ♡ɞ i've been cooking this up for the past few days mwehehe

ʚ♡ɞ i won't be publishing fics as frequently! but its better cuz i wont be pushing out poopy fics. i can actually take my time with them and make em better :3

ʚ♡ɞ that's all enjoy! request are still open too :p

🎱 Stan

𝄞 Stan hadn’t suspected a thing when he saw you rush into your room after being out all day. You occasionally do that when you were exhausted and had no more battery left in you to uphold another conversation. But, when he saw you all disheveled in appearance. Not bothering to glance at him, let alone tell him about your day, he knew something was up. Springing your wellbeing in the conversation was tricky. He knows that if he straight up asked if you’re okay, you’d burst out into tears and cry out incoherent words that sounded like mushed up sobs into his ear. So how could he ease you into talking about yourself without having you break down? For the remainder of the day, he was tackling himself with ways he could ask about how you’re doing, stemming from slapping a sticky note on your forehead to passing a note under your door. But none of them seemed effective. His brain was splitting into two. He couldn’t decide and the day was coming to a close. The orange overhang of the sun shone into the shack and Stan was contemplating on asking your partner why you were sad because if he didn’t know what was going on, your partner had an idea or the full picture. He decided against it though. Maybe this was something you’d rather keep to yourself?

𝄞 The stress was so bad he had to go outside for a quick smoke. Seeing you in an emotional state of disarray sends him into one as well. He plucked a cigarette from his pack and pinched it in between his lips. Craning his head up a bit to light up the cigarette, he shielded the orange flame sparkling to life from the wind with his cupped hand. He blew a stream of smoke into the evening air, his electrifying nerves nulling into a soft calming buzz. He knew smoking was bad for him, but he couldn’t stray away from it in times like these. The door to the front porch painfully creaked open. Looking over his shoulder, he softly smiled upon seeing you. “Pumpkin,” He pats the side right next to him. You take the seat and inhale the crisp air—well, from what you can get with all the cigarette smoke littering the air. “Second hand smoking is way worse than first hand.” You mention, delicate amusement trailing in your words as you take a seat beside him.

𝄞 “You’re the one who walked out here knowing I was smoking.” He replied with a flick of his hand. Another trail of smoke escapes his mouth as he exhales, his body visibly relaxing into the familiar routine. “I should get a cigarette too.” You stretched out your arms, cracking a small smile. “Heh,” Stan flicked the cigarette, small shreds of ashes trickling down from the burning end of the stick. “You think you’re funny.” You nod intensely. “I think I’m very funny.” You look off into the horizon, eyes carrying such a thick somber look to them Stan had to finally ask the question he had been beating around the bush for who knows how long. “You okay, kiddo?”

𝄞 Your eyes glisten over with tears, bottom lip trembling as you hold back the words you’ve been dreading to say to your dad the minute news broke out to you. “Oh, [Name].” Stan burnt out his cigarette, his arm wrapping around your shoulders and bringing you closer to him. The pure affection coming from Stan made you pour out more tears, trembling sobs wracking your body as you mournfully cried onto his shoulder. “Let it out, sweetpea.” His hand comfortingly patted your back. This wasn’t how he wanted this to go, but maybe you needed a quick cry to comfortably tell him what happened. His stomach churned as the suspicion of the reason why you were crying into his shoulder rose. He had a feeling on why you were acting like that, but he had hoped he was wrong.

𝄞 He wasn’t wrong. He was right, unfortunately for him. After recollecting yourself to the best of your ability, Stan had discovered that your partner had broken up with you earlier today for reasons that they had not specified. Frustration bubbled up inside Stan and it took every bone in his body to not slam his fists on your ex’s door, gun in hand to shoot them down for breaking your heart. Instead, he opted to swallow down his anger and tend to you. You needed him to be right by your side and he wasn’t going to suddenly up and leave to shoot down a person. He’d wind up in jail and then you would have to deal with the loss of your partner and your dad. The thought sent chills down his spine. You peeled yourself off his shoulder, leaving a slobbering teary eyed stain on suit. “I’m sorry.” You mutter, eyes red and burning from the force of squeezing them closed. “It’s okay, sweetpea. You don’t need to apologize for things like this, you know that right?” His thumb swipes a stray tear off your cheek. “I know,” You hiccup. Stan seeing you like this infront of him shredded his heart into tiny little pieces. Who could hurt you like this? How could someone protect his child’s heart and break it the next day? Your partner even promised that they’d never pull a stunt like this, and yet here you are, bleary eyed and sniffily.

𝄞 Your face pinched with a forever sorrowful look and for a second he thinks that he’s never going to have you back, he’s never going to see your smile ever again and that alone terrifies him. There has to be something that can cheer you up, right? You’re not forever stuck in this pool of sadness? This is something someone can get over right? All prior knowledge to his personal relationship flies off his head and out the window. He removes himself from his thoughts and grounds him in the moment. What is something that’ll cheer you up? An idea sprouted in his mind. “Want to watch a movie with your old man?” He doesn’t know how you’d respond to his offer and it slightly scares him. He’s never been able to fully predict your every move, but he has made some sense of them later on, but he’s never seen you in this state before and he doesn’t know what to expect. “I’d like that.” You meekly nod your head and Stan has to contain himself from lurching up into the air and cheering out in happiness. Rather, he clears his throat and broadly smiles at you. “I’m gonna take a real quick shower. Pick out a movie you wanna watch and I’ll be back in no time.”

𝄞 The rest of the night was spent snuggled up in the sofa, a blanket of yours of when you were a kid was draped over you and Stan. It barely gave you any coverage but you claimed that it did when Stan would mention it. Stan didn’t want to disagree with you and besides, the blanket reminded him of when you were a little kid, carefree and giddy with little to no knowledge of idiotic people who’d carelessly shatter your heart and leave you without any consolation. The movie that was playing was and still is an all time favorite of yours. You and Stan had memorized the lines that have been forever sewn into your brain from how many times you forced Stan to watch it when you were little. Guess some things don’t change. The days following are full of extensive care and love, enough that would be overbearing to anyone that wasn’t you–at least sometimes.

𝄞 Fishing outings were a must. Stan would rapidly knock on your door, standing on the other side decked head to toe in his fishing outfit. Your fishing hat in hand. You couldn’t say no to him when he’s looking at you with such a sad look in his eyes and dressed up, putting on your worn fishing hat that has seen better days. Stan proudly smiled at you, wiping off a tear from the corner of his eye. “Why are you crying, Dad?” You chuffed nervously. “My eyes are sweating!” He covered his eyes with his forearm, violently sobbing as he walked away to get the fishing gear. In his defense, he hasn’t gone fishing with you in a good long while and seeing you wearing your fishing outfit really triggered the water works in his eye. The past week has been an emotional wreck for you and him, who could blame him? You had forgotten how much fun fishing was. A laugh rattles through your throat as you reel back your fishing rod. This must be your third attempt in catching a fish, and Stan’s enthusiastic commentary struck a funny cord within you. With a few more tugs and reeling back, you caught the fish. “Awesome catch!” He patted your back with so much force, you jolted forward, making the boat lean to the side, causing you to lose your footing and drop the fish in the water. When you were about to revel in your loss, you heard a large splash and large droplets of water sprinkling over you. You turned your attention over to where the splash was heard and to your luck, Stan bobbed his head out of the water, gasping dramatically as his arms flailed around. “Dad!” You laugh.

𝄞 “The water isn’t even that deep.” Talking was a task to do with how hard you were laughing. “Oh.” He stopped thrashing around and allowed him to sink to the bottom of the lake floor. And to his surprise, the water barely even passed his upper chest. That realization made you hunch over in laughter. “Oh, stop laughing!” He grabbed onto the edge of the boat and tried pulling himself up, but the sudden shift in weight made the boat tip over, sending you and all the other belongings in the boat into the freezing water. “[Name]!” He looked to where you were under the water, ready to dive in and grab you from below when you sprung out of the water. You stared at him, cheeks puffed as you struggled to hold back your laughter. “Oh, whatever.” His initial panic was washed off with playful annoyance. “Go ahead, laugh at your old man.” He rolls his eyes upon hearing your boisterous laughter echo in the air. “That was insane!” You wrap your arms around Stan’s neck, hoisting yourself up so you don’t drown while laughing. “Yeah, go ahead. Laugh at this poor old man who’s clearly struggling.”

𝄞 Singing your favorite songs in your karaoke machine was his favorite way to catch you off guard. He’d notice you reminiscing on the past and he’d make a beeline to your machine, slamming the buttons that would turn it on and play a song that you like. His gruff scratchy singing voice always pulled you out of your mind and into the present moment. Walking into the living room where he relocated your karaoke machine for times like these, you couldn’t help but laugh as he passionately sang into the microphone. “Disco girl, coming through! That girl is you!” He points the microphone at you, motioning you over to join him. It takes some convincing but when you do, you and him are blissfully singing your hearts out into the microphone.

𝄞 Seeing your partner around town was an immediate mood kill for Stan. Unaware and in a chipper mood, he found himself in the grocery store. Stacking up on food and snacks to fill your stomach and his. When strolling into the available cash register, his smile curls into a grimace when he sees who was behind the counter. “You,” he spat out. “Ah, Mr. Pines!” They nervously chuckled. “Good to see you. How’s it been?” They can’t make eye contact. The lazer like glare Stan was giving them was enough to know that things haven’t been good. Grabbing an item from the shopping cart, he hovered it over the conveyor belt, mulling over his thoughts. He could not pay for this and run out of the store or he could unscrew the carton of milk and squirt it all over your ex. Or maybe, he could do both? With speed no one could comprehend, he undid the lid and spilled the milk all over them, chucking the empty carton right on their head for extra measure. He then grabbed the cart and bolted out of the grocery store, leaving everyone in the store stunned. “Is anyone going to arrest him or?” A random passerby asked, watching how your ex just stood there, completely befuddled with milk dripping down their body.

𝄞 “Dad? Why is the news saying that you assaulted a worker in the grocery store with milk?” Stan scoffed. “Don’t believe everything you see on the news, sweetie.” He takes a good sip of his pitt cola. “But it shows camera footage of you doing it.” You gesture to the video that was playing. “Fake news. You know how technology is advancing. They can make anything these days.” He grabs the remote and switches channels. “There! Now, we don’t have to see that.” You smile, elbowing him. “It was cool that you did that.” You mutter. He chuckles. “The kid deserved that.”

𝄞 Drives around the town and wreaking havoc in rival attraction traps were a good stress reliever and anger outlet. You were swinging with all your might, your axe that was in hand was splintering through the large wooden statue. “Keep going!” Stan was serving as a lookout, his eyes switching through the front door and to you. Sweat rolled down your temples as you delivered one last final blow to the statue. The statue slowly tipped forward. “Let’s go.” Stan urgently whispered, running back to the family van with you in tow. Stan started the van and sped out of the parking lot and into the driveway. “God dammit, Stanley Pines!” The person emerged from his house, shaking his fist in the air. You clapped your hands together, laughing. “That was a fun one.” You noted, swiping the sweat off your forehead with your shirt. “Who’s next?” You ask eagerly. “Check on the map. You decided where we will go next.” This was the first time you fully smiled at him with your signature laugh following after. No remnants of sadness stuck to you. He knew right then and there that he got you back.

📖 Ford

𝄞 Ford was peacefully slumbering on the couch when the front door was slammed shut, scaring him awake. He jolted forward, the book that was covering his face fell flat on his lap, startling him. “[Name]?” He closes the book in his lap and pushes it aside. You didn’t respond and he was quickly resorting to the idea that it wasn’t you. Creeping towards your room, his knuckles knock on the door. “Sweetie?” He puts his hand on the knob and very slowly turns it. “I’m coming in.” He announces. Opening the door, his eyes land on your back. Quiet sniffles and hiccups could be heard coming from you and Ford’s heart clenched in his chest. He never liked hearing you cry. “[Name]?” He settles himself down on your bed. He couldn’t get to see your face properly since you were curled inwards with your blanket slightly obstructing your face, but he could see your body quiver as you suppressed your sobs. Ford sucked his bottom lip into his teeth. Equally as clueless as his brother, he doesn’t know how to approach this. He hadn’t had the slightest idea of why you’re crying and that truly bugs him.

𝄞 His hand rests on your hip, fingers tapping in a soothing rhythm. “Wanna tell me what’s wrong?” He’s chewing on his lip, anxiety running its full race through his body, relentless and awfully energetic. He’s sure by the end of this, he wasn’t going to have a bottom lip from how much he was nibbling on it. You shuffle further into your blanket in response. “You don’t wanna talk about it?” He croaks out. He never liked when you pushed him away in your most vulnerable moments. He knows you mean well but he detests being in the unknown. You let out a small hum. He had learned over the years that two hums were yes and one was no. It was a very asbured way to communicate but it did come in handy when you weren’t in the mood to talk. This was a way of telling him that you weren’t in the mood prevented Ford from asking an assault wave of questions.

𝄞 “Do you want me to stay here with you?” Two hums. Patting your waist, he shuffles to the other side of your bed and plops down right next to you, mindlessly staring off into the ceiling. His anxiety was still pounding through his body, his clammy hands and beating heart proved that but it quelled a little of it knowing that you wanted him beside you. That you found comfort in his presence. He’d hope you did, he didn’t raise you all these years just for you to hate him. Wait, you don’t hate him, right? You could never hate him. He’s your dad! Can kids hate their own parents? He hated his dad so that can be a generational—

𝄞 “I think hear your overthinking from here, Dad.” Your voice comes out muffled from speaking through the blanket covering your face. He blinks, swallowing his doubt and looking over to your blanket covered face. “Sorry,” he lets out a dry laugh, scratching his cheek. “It wasn’t my intention to annoy you.” You pull the blanket down to the bridge of your nose, allowing Ford to see your irritated swollen eyes. “You’re not annoying me, Dad. You being anxious makes me anxious.” Ford cracked a smile. “Like father, like child.” That managed to pull a smile from you. “Unfortunately, I grow to be more like you everyday.” You say with a roll of your eyes. An overdramatic offended gasp leaves Ford. “And that’s a bad thing, how?”

𝄞 Playful banter was tossed between the two of you, each quick remark and quip allowed you to pick yourself up from the hole you were cowering in. After a while, you mustered up everything you had and told him about the break-up. Ford really couldn’t believe it at first. You had to repeat it to him twice much to your dismay but once he caught what you said, his face fell. “They were a waste of time anyways.” He said with a flick of his wrist. “Dad!” You weren’t expecting him to come off so strongly over hearing the news. “It’s true. They couldn’t even take my work seriously! How could someone laugh at my face when I tell them that aliens are real? Someone is clearly stuck in the stone ages.”

𝄞 He was riding on the mindset of you need to forget this person and move on. Wallowing over losing them wasn’t ideal and you need to distract yourself with other things to prevent yourself from dwelling back on the thought of them. He was done with your ex, so should you. But he was real quick to find out that you weren't exactly like him in that aspect. He’d find you resting on the couch, eyes mindlessly staring at the TV as you’re cuddled up with blankets upon blankets. Tear marks were stained on your cheeks. Maybe you couldn’t distract yourself? Maybe he should be the one that distracts you? He’d scribble drawings of you and him on a piece of paper and fold it up into a cute little airplane and toss it over to you. You would unwrap the little gift with a smile, tears clouding your eyes. “Aw, Dad...” You held the piece of paper to your chest.

𝄞 Your favorite dinner would be cooked almost everyday, and if you have more than one, you bet he’d be coking it up in the kitchen, offering different favorite meals every night. Anything that would bring the smile on your face back. Adventures out into the woods, just like old times, was a thing he’d bring you along with. Even when you did protest and groan, whining how you would rather cry into your pillow, Ford stood his ground and made sure that you got ready for the adventure he had meticulously planned. The minute you step into the familiar lush woods, a sense of calmness falls over you and suddenly you’re a kid skipping around in the woods, in search of anything to show Ford so he could write about the new discovery in his book. Finding old discoveries lightened a smile on your face and unknowingly to you, Ford would draw you in his book like how he did when you were younger. Old habits die hard.

𝄞 A lot of nights were spent you talking your feelings out to Ford. He was a good listener and had a few quips of advice to lend over, since he’s been in a similar but not so similar predicament. But he was more intent on listening to your concerns and anxieties. “I can’t believe I let them do that!” You plop your back down on your bed, anger spilling out of you in sharp words. He shook his head, a very sassy “mhm,” leaves him. “They didn’t deserve you anyways.” He moved his finger side to side. “Why are you acting like that?” You laugh, gingerly pushing him. “Don’t your friends act like that when something happens?” You beam from ear to ear, a loud laugh escaping you. “No! Where did you even get that from?” Ford shrugs. “I don’t know. I just thought they did?” He pretended to act clueless and with a big smile of his own, he watched you curl up in laughter over his ridiculous act. He could only think of how much he missed your smile and beautiful laugh.

𝄞 Seeing your ex at the mall was a surprise both for him and them. Ford was scanning the shelves in search of something to get you when they approached them. “Sir, do you need any he…” Their words die in their throat when they register who they’re talking to. Ford hasn’t made the correlation yet, his attention so wrapped up in finding you the perfect gift. “Do you need any help?” They repeat, their voice cracking. Ford lazily looks over to them, dismissing them before looking back. Then, a look of recognition washes over him and he whips his head over to them. “You!” He loudly yelled. Customers in the store glance over to them. “Mr. Pines, keep it down.” They stressed out, teeth gritted together. “I will–.” An idea came to mind. “I’m sorry.” He rolled his shoulders back, untensing them. They look to the side, uncomfortable with the sudden change. “You’re sorry?” They repeat in disbelief. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be on my way.” A strained smile pulled to his face as he bid goodbye. Stepping out of the store, he sees you happily munching on a blueberry muffin you bought from the bakery. “Hi, Dad! You got anything?” He looks around you. “Do you have any food?” You place your muffin down on the table and grab the bag full of treats. “Yeah. I got some–” Ford dipped his hand in the bag and pulled out a cookie. His other hand digs into the inner pockets of his coat and pulls out a vial of pink sprinkles. “I knew I was going to use this at some point.” He mutters to himself, popping off the cork. “What are you doing?” You ask, watching as he sprinkled it onto the cookie.

𝄞 “You’ll see.” He winks at you before scooping it off the table and walking back into the store. Minutes later, he comes out with a big sinister smile on your face. “What did you do, Dad?” He pointed at the entrance of the store and it didn’t take long to see what he did. A flamingo human-like creature erupted into the store, squawking crazily as their head desperately swiped from side to side, looking for someone. Their black beady eyes landed on you and Ford. An angry squawk was heard from them, their chicken like legs slapping on the floor as they charged at you and Ford. “Run!’ Ford grabbed your wrist and darted away. In a quick swiping motion, you grabbed your bag full of treats before being whisked away. Loud bird noises were heard behind you and you couldn’t help but laugh. “Who is that chasing us?” Ford took a quick turn into another store, shuffling past people and hiding in a discreet corner with you. “That may be your ex angrily chirping at us.” You clapped your palm onto your mouth, an effort to muffle the laughter that left you. “Of course you’d do something like that!” The rest of the day was stealthily trying to escape the mall without being pecked to death by a very angry flamingo. When you did, you were laughing all the way to the car. “Do you always have that around for times like this?” Ford nods. “You’ll never know when you need to make someone a flamingo.” The automatic slide door pulls apart. “Pines!” The now fully turned flamingo human hybrid squawked out. “Get in the car, hurry!”

Taglist: @boredwithlifeatthispoint, @lovexsage, @teddycricketdream, @theilluminatidragonqueen, @raventeen @cedarmoonzz, @katharine3000

dm or comment if you want to be added to my taglist :3

#gravity falls #gravity falls x reader #stanford pines x reader #stanley pines x reader #stanford pines #ford pines #ford pines x reader #stan pines #stan pines x daughter!reader #stan pines x reader #stan pines x child!reader #stanley pines x daughter! reader #stanley pines x child!reader #ford pines x child!reader #ford pines x daughter!reader #stanford pines x daughter!reader #stanford pines x child!reader

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ghostgirl-22 · 6 days ago

Note

hi Dani <3 love love love your writing and I adore how you write our lovely toxic tennis throuple.

okay so hear me out, whenever people write ATP it's either Art in the middle or Patrick in the middle but I'm a firm believer that Tashi loves to be in the middle (cough cough hotel scene!) just because our queen is dominant that doesn't mean she doesn't want to get absolutely blasted I mean hello?? can't a baddie catch a vibe? what's the point of having two guys if you can't take them at the same time? there's not enough Tashi Eiffel tower content in the world.

anyway this is a very unnecessarily long way of me asking you to write an ATP threesome with powerbottom!Tashi <3 like I just imagine her taking one of them from the front and the other from the back and she won't let them finish until she's satisfied. or maybe she's on her knees for the both of them going back and forth and she won't let them touch her. please make my dream come true ✨

Yes!!! A thousand times yes<3 You’re so very real for this anon. She likes to be in the middle… it’s canon actually. Prompt is better than the fic I fear but I gave it the old college try heh.

CW: MDNI, NSFW, canon drift, early days of porn hub, squirting, bjs, unsafe sex, underaged drinking, mild exhibitionism (if you squint), intoxication, not beta’d so please feel free to point out issues. 3.4k words.

Summary: Tashi tries alcohol for the first time and decides she probably (read: definitely) wants to be double teamed by her boyfriend and his best friend. Not that the alcohol changes anything. She woulda fucked them anyway. :)

—-

Tashi’s a good girl. She gets straight A’s. She’s always home by curfew. She’s talented but she never takes short cuts. Perfect student, perfect athlete, perfect daughter.

She’s always been good but she’s never been normal. Normal isn’t winning your first junior open at 12 years old. Normal isn’t getting your first sponsorship at 14. Normal isn’t whatever she’s got going on with her boyfriend and his best friend.

It’s boring really. It’s nothing. Patrick’s in town and she let him invite Art over. She picked Patrick but she still has a crush on Art. Even more so, whenever she watches him play. She likes them both, especially when they’re together. She has little fantasies where she gets them to kiss again. Imagines what it would have been like that night in Flushing if she stayed in their bedroom. She’d been too nervous to stay out late with her little tattle tale brothers in the hotel room waiting to tell mom and dad if she’d been gone too long. She wonders what would’ve happened if she let them both have her instead of making them work for it. Shes a good girl really she is…she just gets horny sometimes.

They’re sitting in her dorm room. Both boys on the floor, she’s stretched out horizontally on her extra long twin, resting on her tummy, legs bent at the knees, she swings them back and forth idly. They’re watching Batman Begins, eating individually packaged cheesecake from the grocery store and drinking wine coolers.

Well, Art and Patrick are drinking. She’s never tried alcohol before outside of an accidental sip of her dads red stripe beer when she was little and they were on vacation in Jamaica. Since then she planned to wait till she was 21, just about a year to go. She never felt like she was missing anything. She’s so good. But she’s also a little bored and mildly curious so she does take a little sip out of Patrick’s bottle of Smirnoff. And then another.

“It doesn’t taste horrible.”

Patrick looks up at her, smirking, mischief in his eyes. “Maybe you want the rest?”

She shrugs and takes the bottle from him, finishing it off. Art glances at her and when she turns to meet his gaze he looks back at the television. Typical for when the three of them are together.

She behaves herself with the two of them usually … the first night they met being the exception. She kinda makes a couple mistakes tonight though.

The first mistake is she lets Patrick give her another wine cooler. It’s too sweet and fizzy… it doesn’t taste like nasty beer at all and she drinks it down easily like soda pop. It’s not until her cheeks are warm and her brain processing time seems to have slowed down that she realizes her second mistake. Patrick picks up her laptop, which is fine. He uses it sometimes. It’s no big deal. Except she forgot she hadn’t used it since the night before Patrick came to visit. That night she’d been horny out of her mind and she couldn’t really sleep so as a last ditch effort—

She watches Patrick, seated back on the floor next to Art, it feels like slow motion as he opens the laptop. At the top of the screen in bold is the logo for PornHub. A video titled: “Hot ebony milf gets double teamed by husband and friend.” She didn’t realize it was such a stupid title.

“Um Tash?” Patrick’s running his fingers along the tracking pad. She doesn’t need to see his face to know he’s grinning like an idiot.

His voice draws Art’s attention and his gaze lands on the laptop screen just as Patrick hits play. And okay fine. So what… she watches porn. Fuck him… the stuff he watches is probably so much worse.

“Patrick, what are you doing?” Art snaps with all the cadence of an 18th century man who’s just seen an ankle.

“Yeah Patrick,” Tashi chimes in, trying to sound equally scandalized.

Patrick turns his grin on her. “Fuck you Tashi… this is your laptop.” His eyes are all sparkly, pretty blue rings shrinking as his pupils get larger. He needs to be studied for how fast he can go from zero to horny. She needs to be studied for how quickly she’s able to meet him there.

“Fuck you actually,” She says as she reaches over his shoulder and shuts the laptop and the messy sound of skin slapping and over the top moaning quiets.

Art moves to sit crisscross on the floor. “You’re disgusting Patrick,” he mutters. Hands pushed into his lap.

Patrick laughs. “Jesus Christ…it wasn’t me. I was just trying to check my play schedule for next week. I didn’t know my sensitive eyes would be assaulted by Tashi’s filthy porn habit.”

Tashi still feels a little dizzy. Kinda brave. “Please. Sensitive eyes. You guys have probably done that in real life with so many girls at boarding school.”

The room gets all quiet. It’s like even the film has decided not to make a sound. They’re doing that thing they do where they stare at each other, talking without words and finally Patrick says. “Believe it or not we haven’t. We don’t share girls. Theres a winner…usually me,” he grins. “And a loser.”

Art rolls his eyes.

“Bullshit…you don’t share girls, sure okay.” Tashi giggles and is surprised by a little hiccup that follows. “You probably both get hard fighting each other over who gets to have the pussy and who gets the mouth.”

Patrick’s looking at her all starry eyed. “Well…” he glances at Art. “I mean… I would get your pussy… I mean her…hypothetical pussy of course.”

Art is bouncing his thigh, his gaze on Tashi. “I would… I would never disrespect you… or— or anyone like that.”

Patrick snorts. “You’re so full of shit.” He mutters.

Art glances back at Patrick. “I wouldn’t.”

“So you don’t want to double team me Art?” Tashi asks him, softly. “Fill me up from both ends with your both cocks.”

”Holy shit,” Patrick whispers.

Art starts blinking a lot… for a moment she worries he’ll start crying. “Well… welll….I uh… if that’s what you wanted. I would do that for you.” Art stammers out.

“How chivalrous,” Patrick says dryly. “Tash… um… what are we talking about here? Cause I’m…” he gestures vaguely at his crotch.

Tashi smirks. “Okay get up… lemme see it,” she hiccups. This feels surreal. She doesn’t think she knows anyone else who had two boys make out with each other for their attention. Her best friend from high school still thinks she’s exaggerating. And now she’s got them both in her bedroom eager to fulfill her porn fantasy. Stupid. Insane.

Patrick puts her laptop on the ground and gets to his feet quickly… and yeah he’s stupid hard, with his stupidly massive dick. “See what you do to me?” Patrick sighs. Art looks at him, an almost imperceptible swipe of his tongue against his bottom lip before he looks back to her.

”What about you?” She asks, a little smile playing on her lips. “You don’t wanna show me?”

Art looks back at Patrick and then to her again before getting to his feet. He’s tenting behind his athletic shorts.

“So I get your pussy right?” Patrick asks softly.

Tashi smiles and inches forward on the bed till her feet are flat on the ground. She looks between the two of them. “Why don’t you take em out?”

Patrick hastily undoes his belt and unzips his jeans but Art just has to ease his shorts down. His swollen pink dick bobs out first. She’s never seen it before. Not really. Maybe it’s because she’s drunk… at least she thinks she is… she doesn’t really know what being drunk feels like… but she grabs hold of Art to the sound of his sudden inhale. Soft skin over hard velvety heat, pearls of white liquid dripping from the tip. She smiles up at him before opening her mouth and sucking him inside.

“Oh,” Art gasps his knees buckle slightly. “Oh my god.”

Tashi wants to smile but she’s got her tongue sliding between his slit, tasting the salty fluid leaking from the tip. “Mm…” she hums filling her mouth with more to the sound of a strangled moan from Arts lips. She feels Art grab onto her shoulders… like he needs her to keep himself up right.

“Oh fuck, Tashi.” It’s not Art… it’s Patrick who whispers it. Tashi slides back letting her mouth empty, Art’s dick revealed inch by inch all shiny with her spit. Art is breathing heavy. His eyes heavy lidded. He lets go of her, trying to steady himself. “S-sorry,” he whispered, dazed. She grins and then turns to Patrick.

He’s got his bottom lip pulled between his teeth, one hand gripping his swollen dick, until she meets his gaze. He lets go of himself. ”God Tashi…” Patrick says softly, he looks so hungry. She loves the sound of her name in his pitchy sex altered voice. Let’s him cup her face in his large palm.

“You’re so fucking smart and talented…” He teases her like that because she snapped at him once for calling her pretty. (“I’m more than just pretty Patrick… unless thats all you like about me.”)

She grabs at his dick… watching his face as she plays with it… jerking it a little, pressing her thumb along the slit and licking her thumb afterwards. Hes dumb sexy and he knows it, freckles everywhere, his ears all pink, eyes falling shut, lips parted as he groans softly, “Fuck yes.” He breathes as she slowly fills her mouth with as much as she can manage. She reaches over and grabs hold of Art at the same time while she hollows her cheeks around Patrick.

Patrick moans and Art whimpers. She looks up and Patricks staring at her, one hand resting flat along Arts tummy. She feels so wet between her thighs she thinks her panties might be soaked. Patrick plays his fingers into her hair, grabbing at her ponytail trying to push for more and she pulls back.

“Mm… no fucking way… you really think either of you are allowed to cum before me?” She hiccups.

Art shakes his head. “What if I’m…. What if we can’t help it?”

“Be careful Tash, he’s easy,” Patrick breathes.

“I forgot you two jerk off together,” Tashi smiles.

Patrick shrugs.

“You know you never told me what happened after I left you alone in Flushing.” She adds, curiously, reminded of her standing irritation that he's always so tight lipped about it.

All Patrick offers is a toothy smile. “You should have stayed.”

Art clears his throat. “Im… im not easy just… i think you’re so pretty.”

Tashi giggles and she can see the flush on his cheeks deepen, more pearls of precum leak from his tip. “Try to relax…think of it like a game of doubles. Im your partner. You can’t dominate the court… you have to hold it back a little. For me.” She says gently.

He nods. “Uh yeah okay. I can— i can hold it…”

Patrick curls his fingers into Arts hair. “Yeah hold it back sweetheart.”

Art shoves his hand away, a little shiver running through his body. God.

Tashi feels impatient all of a sudden. She takes hold of Art again and licks at the excess dripping from his tip.

“F-fuck,” Art stammers, his hands fly to her head, her ponytail snagging on his fancy watch. She pulls back teasing it out of her hair with a giggle. “Sorry fuck… im sorry.” Art whines.

“Its okay,” she says, she glances at Patrick’s shit eating grin as she smooths her hair back. Art takes his watch off and tosses it aside on her bed. “Its okay you’ll get used to it…” Tashi says, reassuringly.

“Who tastes better Tash?” Patrick asks.

“hm… good question…” she takes hold of both of their dicks making them moan, making them step closer to each other. She likes it… it feels like she has all this control. Maneuvering them like horny little marionettes. She fills her mouth with both.

A chorus of moans and swears fill the room as she hums around them. Her mouth too full, eyes watering. Both of them with their hands in her hair. They each have a distinct scent, but mostly what she tastes on her tongue is salty, heated skin. She teases Patrick’s balls with her finger tips eliciting a sharp groan out of him. Feels the way, Patrick gently cradles her head. Feels the way Art starts moving, like he wants to thrust in and out but is trying to stop himself. She hears the wet sound of kissing and she presses her thighs together as she glances up to see them kissing each other. She fucking knew it. They’re as horny for each other as they are for her.

“I dont— think— I don’t think—“ Art gasps, against Patrick’s mouth. Tashi pulls back then, both of them slipping out, hard and shiny. Art lets out a deep breath at the loss of contact and Patrick keeps one hand on her head and the other on Art’s.

“Mm..I think I like both,” Tashi says, curling stray strands of hair behind her ears. Both boys are watching her with sex stupid dazed expressions, following her every movement. She slowly pulls her t-shirt and sweatshirt off so she’s only in her sports bra and short shorts. “You both wanna be inside me don’t you?”

“Yes,” Art says, immediately.

“Fuck yes,” Patrick says.

She gets to her feet so she’s almost at eye level with them and that’s when she realizes she’s drunk or something like it. She wraps an arm around Patrick’s shoulder. “Mm I think I’m drunk.”

“You’re just a little tipsy, sweetheart,” Patrick teases. “Light weight.”

She grins. “You can have my pussy this time, Pat-trick.” She separates the syllables cause words feel so slow and funny on her tongue.

“God yes,” Patrick says, he presses a tentative kiss to her lips and she smiles and kisses him back. Before turning to Art. He’s so eager it’s like their lips smash together straight away, tongues and teeth and hunger. She feels so horny. She feels Patrick pull her hair back so he can kiss along her throat… Patrick’s fingers sliding beneath the waistband of her shorts, rubbing circles, teasing along her cunt through the fabric of her panties. “So wet for me,” he hums along her throat and Art starts feeling around too. His hand cupping at her bra, fingers tugging it down so he can play with her breasts, teasing her nipples between his fingertips.

It feels so good Tashi is overwhelmed with it. She can’t believe a little over 24 hours ago she’d been watching porn curled up in her bed, fingers racing between her legs while some stranger moaned about two boys fucking her like crazy.

And now it’s real. They’re touching her all over, Art’s mouth on her breasts. Patrick’s hand around her waist, the other one in her panties. His thick fingers slipping in and out of her. She’s moaning, writhing against them, takes their mouths, pushes them together to watch them kiss on each other.

“Mm you’re both so good at sharing,” Tashi sighs.

“God… wanna fuck you now, Tash.” Patrick breathes. “Wanna fuck you so bad.”

“Maybe you should ask nicely,” Tashi says.

“Please lemme fuck you, Tashi,” he groans.

“Please, me too. I’ll do whatever you want me to.” Art breathes. “I won't come till you say.”

And really who is she to say no to that. She makes Patrick put on a condom. She's on the pill but she always has to be double, triple, quadruple sure. She got too horny one night and let him fuck her without it and ended up in her gynaecologist’s office begging for a test because she was one day late and so very neurotic about it. God forbid she lets a boy ruin her tennis career.

She crawls on the bed, tossing the pillows on the floor. Patrick is right behind her. She gestures Art over to join them and he quickly slots himself between her face and the headboard. She feels Patrick's fingers playing with her pussy again. So impatient. “Jesus your fucking dripping.” He moans and with that he’s easing himself inside her, she feels the thick heft of him and even though she’s used to how big he is by now theres still the delicious stretch through her walls as her body accommodates for him.

She moans and Art shivers in front of her. He rubs his dick as she looks up at him through her lashes.

“God. You’re so…. so beautiful,” he whispers.

She loves how irreverent he is even when she’s doing something filthy right in front of him. Like getting fucked.

“You can put it in my mouth,” she grins and he nods. Hes so gentle with it, taking hold of himself and gently guiding his dick into her open mouth. She licks and moans around him while Patrick groans, fucking her like he can’t help himself. This is what she wanted, what she touched herself imagining. God maybe shes not a good girl. Maybe she’s a little bit of a slut. One drink and she wants to be fucked like a whore.

She rocks her hips back and forth, both of them filling her over and over. Her ears ringing, pulse pounding. The room is full of their gasping and moaning. Vaguely she imagines that maybe her neighbors can hear and it just makes her feel even more aroused. And soon she’s fisting the sheets… Patrick pounding against her walls over and over along a spot that’s making her shiver and whine and her thighs feel weak. Her tummy coiling tighter and tighter as the tension builds. Her mouth is so full and wet, drool spilling from her lips. No more technique, just sloppy messy head. Art white knuckling her headboard. His breathing shaky like he’s desperate.

“Fuck Tashi, fuck are you close?” Patrick moans. Tashi just hums, meeting his thrusts. She’s out of her mind… barely holding on….and then it happens. She thinks she blacks out for a second for the force of it. Coming so wet on Patricks dick.

“Holy Fuck,” Patrick gasps. He starts rocking his hips faster chasing his own orgasm while her mouth fills suddenly with Arts come.

“Fuck im sorry im sorry, I couldn’t— i couldn’t stop,” he groans as she pulls back and lets it drip from her lips. Little spurts of come still jutting out of him. And that's when Patrick stills, moaning as he empties into the condom.

“God that was so fucking hot.” He gasps.

Oh, it's such a mess. Patrick sighs, relaxing as he slips out of her. Tashi had never seen how the double penetration clip ended. She'd finished by then, shut her laptop and fallen fast asleep.

But in reality even though she's just as sleepy as she was after watching porn (probably more) she’s groggy sitting on the edge of the bed, feverishly warm looking around for her panties. Art tugging his shorts up, skin still pink he hurries to the bathroom to get a wash cloth to help her clean up.

They organize themselves somewhat quietly, all of them exhausted from such an intense athletic effort. Her bed sheets are kind of a lost cause. “You gotta wash them tomorrow,” she informs them to which they both agree. God she thinks they’re so pussy drunk right now they'll say yes to anything.

Art says they can sneak downstairs to his room, he’s got a blow up mattress. “Just gotta be quiet in case my roommate is sleeping.”

“Next time we can do it in your room…when your roommate is out of town.” Tashi says softly as they make their way down the mostly empty dormitory halls.

“Yeah… yeah whenever you want,” Art says.

“Oh fuck next time, really?” Patrick teases his fingers into her hair as they step on the elevator. He fidgets, twirling a strand of her ponytail around his fingers.

“Sure,” Tashi shrugs and waits a beat. “I mean don't you wanna fight over who gets to put it in my ass?”

The elevator dings and she steps out. Both boys frozen in place, staring at her, trying get their brains back online. Yeah it's fine, she’s okay with her life being a little bit not normal. She kinda loves it actually.

(okay so pornhub was founded in may 2007 guys… this is the research I do for you. Unfortunately I’m not sure on timeline of the film (Tashi’s injury) and im already in canon divergence so nothing matters but I just thought you should also know that useless fact.)

Can’t forget the most important part Taglist: @artstennisracket

#tashi duncan smut #art donaldson #patrick zweig #challengers fic #challengers smut #art x tashi x patrick #artashipatrick

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nhmkhnh · 2 months ago

Text

consume.

pairings: vi x fem!reader

preface: the love vi had for you never truly left, but the pain of losing you lingered in the corners of her soul, haunting her every step.

author's note: alright i broke my own promise not to post angst here, heh.

wrn: lowercase, angsty with a happy ending.

masterlist / janitor ai / c.ai / carrd

♫ consume - chase alantic [slowed].

"can't feel nothing"

it’s 2am. the kind of hour where even zaun goes quiet. vi’s sitting on the floor of her apartment, back against the wall like it’s the only thing keeping her upright. she hasn’t touched the light switch in hours. just the dim glow of the neon outside seeping through the cracked blinds. her gauntlets lie discarded at the door, like even they gave up on her.

there’s a bottle in her hand. something strong. strong enough to burn, but not enough to make her forget.

not enough to forget you.

vi drags in a breath, then lets it go slow, like she’s trying not to fall apart on the exhale. she stares at the ceiling, jaw tight. her voice is hoarse when she says it aloud, like it matters. like you can still hear her.

“you really left, huh.”

you did. days ago. and she didn’t stop you.

she should’ve run after you. should’ve begged. screamed. something. but all she did was clench her fists and watch your silhouette disappear into the smog. all she did was swallow the pain like it didn’t gut her. she thought she could take it. tank it. that you’d come back. that you'd miss her too much to stay away.

but you didn’t. not even a message. not even a look back.

her phone’s still beside her on the floor, screen cracked from being thrown against the wall the night you left. the picture’s still set to you. a moment from some forgotten summer — you laughing in the sunlight, hair tangled in the wind, looking at her like she was worth something.

vi can’t look at it for more than a second.

the worst part isn’t the silence.

it’s that the silence is starting to feel normal.

that the absence of your voice in her kitchen, your laugh echoing off her walls, your soft goodnights and messy handwriting on sticky notes — all of it — is becoming something she’s getting used to.

and she hates it. hates that she’s learning how to function without you. hates that she can walk to work and buy groceries and breathe without you, even if every second of it feels wrong. feels empty.

she tips the bottle back again. it doesn’t help.

you once told her she was addicted to the idea of destruction — always fighting, always pushing, always ready to burn something down before it could hurt her.

you were right. she burned you down.

and now there’s nothing left but ash in her throat and your name in the ruins.

“i don't feel alive”

the first time vi goes back to the club where you met, it’s by accident.

she didn’t mean to walk in. just wanted a drink. somewhere loud. somewhere dark. somewhere no one would ask how she’s doing because they already know the answer. and she’s tired of people looking at her with pity like she’s not the one who did the leaving, even if you were the one who walked away.

but the second she steps in, the bass hits her chest and so does the memory.

you — spinning in the strobe lights, smiling at her like you’d seen straight through the hard shell she wore and liked what was underneath. you, grabbing her wrist and pulling her into the crowd like she belonged there, with you. you, yelling your name into her ear, laughing at something she said, kissing her with sticky lip gloss and soft urgency and hope.

vi shuts her eyes, but that only makes it worse. now she can hear your laugh in the chorus. smell your perfume in the air. taste the memory of that night on her tongue like cheap whiskey and regret.

she downs her drink in one go.

two more and she’s not thinking anymore. she’s acting. moving. drowning.

there’s someone dancing too close — hands where they shouldn’t be. but she doesn’t flinch. doesn’t pull away. lets them touch her. lets them lean in and whisper, “you’re gorgeous,” like that’s all it takes to get under her skin.

it used to be. before you.

she kisses them in the back hallway. it’s sloppy. meaningless. a mess of heat and nothingness. they moan against her mouth, and for a second — just one brutal, godless second — she lets herself pretend.

pretend it’s you.

but the taste is wrong. the shape of their mouth is wrong. their hands are too cold. their voice is too high. and when she opens her eyes, she sees your ghost looking back at her, devastated.

she pushes them away. hard. mumbles an apology that barely makes it past her dry throat and stumbles out into the night like she’s being chased.

the alley’s empty. her head’s spinning. her chest is a vacuum.

vi slides down the brick wall and just sits. her hands are shaking. her jaw clenches, unclenches. there’s something thick in her throat and she doesn’t know if it’s rage or grief or the scream she’s been swallowing for days.

maybe all three.

“what the fuck did i just do?”

she knows the answer.

she was trying to fill the space you left.

but nothing fits. no one feels like you.

and the more she tries to replace you, the less human she feels.

like she’s just a shell of the girl you once held in your arms, desperately trying to convince herself she’s still worthy of being touched.

but the truth is brutal.

she doesn’t feel alive anymore.

not without you.

“mornings without you”

the worst part of the day used to be the fights. now, it’s the mornings.

the sun rises like it always does, stupid and golden and soft — like it’s trying to be gentle. like it doesn’t know. like it doesn’t remember the way your silhouette used to fill that side of the bed, tangled in sheets and dreams and vi’s arms.

now it’s just cold. the pillow still dipped where your head used to rest. still smells like you sometimes, if she doesn’t wash the covers too often. she tells herself that’s why she hasn’t done laundry. not because she’s clinging. not because she misses you. not because she lays awake at night, fingers brushing the air where you used to be.

she gets up like she’s on autopilot. same routine. same silence. same ache.

brushes her teeth, but doesn’t look in the mirror. she hasn’t in days. doesn’t want to see the dark circles or the way her eyes look like they belong to someone else — someone older. someone who let the best thing that ever happened to her walk away.

there’s a mug you left behind. pale blue, chipped at the rim. you used to say it was your favorite because it felt like “home.” vi pours coffee into it like she always did for you. sets it across from her at the kitchen table out of habit.

and then just… stares at it.

like it might warm itself in your hands again.

like you might stumble in half-asleep, wearing her shirt, grumbling about the draft and asking why she’s up so early when it’s a sunday. like it’s not all gone. like it’s not her fault.

she reaches for her phone. checks it.

nothing.

no message. no missed call. no sign that you’re thinking about her the way she’s thinking about you.

she could send something. just one line. just your name.

but what would she say? "i’m sorry?" too late. "i miss you?" you already know. "come home?" it’s not your home anymore.

the phone shakes in her hand. she almost types it anyway.

but instead, she locks the screen. face blank. breathing shallow.

she finishes her coffee in silence.

when she leaves the apartment, she turns off the lights, locks the door, and pretends she’s not carrying you in every step she takes.

because the world doesn’t stop just because she did.

and mornings come whether she wants them to or not.

“your ghost lives here”

zaun isn’t that big. not really. not when you’re trying to outrun memories.

vi keeps her head down, hoodie up. she tells herself she’s just passing through. that she’s not looking for anything. not retracing steps. not hoping she’ll see a flash of you in the crowd.

but her feet know better. they always lead her back to you.

that little café under the rusted staircase — the one where you dragged her inside during a thunderstorm and made her try “real tea” like a piltover girl. that alley where you once kissed her against the bricks, giggling into her mouth because you’d just stolen a bottle of wine and she was drunk on you. that busted neon sign where she made you promise you weren’t going anywhere.

lie after lie after lie.

she walks faster. doesn’t help. the city’s a mausoleum now. and everywhere she turns, your ghost’s waiting.

there’s a busker playing something soft on a broken synth and it sounds just like that song you used to hum when you were washing dishes. vi freezes. just for a second.

then keeps walking. jaw clenched so hard it hurts.

she sees a girl across the street with your hair. same walk. same way of holding her phone in both hands like it’s the most fragile thing in the world.

vi nearly calls out your name.

stops herself just in time.

it’s not you. of course it’s not.

you’re not here. you don’t haunt this place the way she does.

she ducks into a shadowed corner and leans against the wall like it’s the only thing keeping her upright. her lungs hurt. or maybe that’s her heart. she can’t tell anymore.

people pass by. life goes on. like she didn’t lose everything right here, on this pavement.

she hates this city. hates that it remembers you even if you’ve forgotten her.

but she can’t leave. because what if you come back?

what if one day you miss her enough to find your way home?

she knows it’s pathetic. that you’re probably fine. probably laughing. living. maybe even in someone else’s arms by now. someone who knows how to love you the right way. someone who didn’t fuck it all up.

vi digs her nails into her palms, hard enough to leave marks.

because all she has left is the echo of you in her ribcage and the sound of her own breathing in the dark.

you’re gone.

but your ghost?

your ghost never left.

“i didn't mean to let you go”

vi never planned to call.

she knew better.

but the ache gets loud sometimes. especially around 2 a.m., when the city’s quiet and she can hear herself think — and thinking is the last thing she wants to do.

she scrolls to your name without meaning to. it's still pinned. still got that stupid little heart emoji you put there when you stole her phone and said, “now you’ll never miss me.”

joke’s on her. she misses you every second.

she doesn’t hit call. not at first. just stares. thumb hovering. waiting for common sense to kick in.

it doesn’t.

the line rings once. twice. then voicemail.

your voice fills her ear. too bright. too soft. too gone.

“hi, you’ve reached—” she closes her eyes. bites her lip. waits for the beep.

then starts talking.

“hey. i’m not— i wasn’t gonna do this. i just…”

silence. deep breath.

“i saw someone today. they smiled like you. hurt like hell. thought you should know.”

another beat. her voice drops, rough around the edges.

“i miss you. i mean… fuck, of course i do. that’s not news. i just— i keep trying to be okay, you know? i’m doing the things. gym. work. sleeping, kind of. smiling when people ask. but none of it works.”

her laugh is broken glass.

“i keep expecting you to walk in. to say you were just pissed. that you didn’t mean it. that we’re still us.” “but you’re not here. and i don’t think you’re coming back.”

the silence stretches. she swallows hard.

“i didn’t mean to let you go. i thought… i thought i was doing the right thing. giving you space. not dragging you down. i didn’t realize that space meant ‘forever.’” “if you hear this — don’t call me. not if it’s just to say you’re doing fine. i don’t think i could take that. i just wanted you to know…”

her breath catches. there’s that raw edge now. the part of her voice that’s all fight or fall.

“i loved you more than i’ve ever loved anything. and i’m sorry i didn’t say it loud enough when i had the chance.”

click.

she doesn’t save the message. doesn’t send it.

just stares at the screen, tears drying on her cheeks, wondering if the universe will somehow deliver the words without her help.

it doesn’t.

you’ll never hear it.

and she’ll never stop wishing you would.

“you promised”

she throws the picture frame before she even knows what she’s doing.

it shatters against the wall. glass, splinters, the sound of something breaking that isn’t her heart for once.

but it doesn’t make her feel better.

nothing does.

she’s pacing the apartment like a caged animal. like if she moves fast enough, she can outrun what’s gnawing at her chest.

your fucking perfume still clings to her hoodie. she smells it when she breathes too deep and it burns.

she rips it off. throws it too. it lands in the corner next to the box of your stuff she’s never managed to throw out. she kicks it. the lid pops open. one of your notebooks spills out, pages creased and smudged with your stupid little hearts in the margins.

she wants to set the whole thing on fire.

but instead, she sinks to the floor, head in her hands, fists clenched so hard her knuckles go white.

“you promised,” she whispers.

then louder. again. and again.

“you promised.”

she punches the floor. once. twice. the pain shoots up her arm but she doesn’t care.

“you said you weren’t going anywhere. you looked me in the eyes and said that. you fucking liar.”

she’s not crying — not exactly. it’s worse than that. her face is dry but her voice is soaked in it. like she’s choking on everything she never got to say. everything you didn’t stay long enough to hear.

“what was it all for, huh? all that shit we went through? i fought for us. i bled for us. i would’ve taken a bullet for you and you just… left.”

the silence after is deafening. like the walls are listening. like the city is holding its breath.

she crawls over to the photo on the floor. picks it up.

it’s cracked now. your smile split right down the middle.

she stares at it, eyes wide, chest heaving.

“you ruined me,” she says, quiet now. “and i’d still take you back.”

that’s the part that breaks her. the truth of it. the raw, pathetic, real truth.

you could knock on the door right now and she’d forget every scream, every sob, every shattered piece of herself — if it meant she could hold you again.

but you won’t.

you’re not coming back.

and she’s the one who has to live with that.

“sits where you used to smile”

it’s just a bench.

cracked paint. rusted arms. a view of the old canal that doesn’t sparkle like it used to.

but it was your favorite.

vi remembers the first time you brought her here. said you liked how quiet it was. how the city felt far away, even though it wasn’t. you told her this was where you came to breathe.

she didn’t get it then.

she does now.

she’s been sitting here for hours. no music. no distractions. just the sound of the wind brushing the water and the ghosts in her chest.

you used to bring sunflower seeds in your pocket. make her guess the flavor with your eyes closed. you’d talk about the dumbest shit — cloud shapes, book endings, what you’d name your dog if you ever got one.

vi never cared about any of it. not until she lost you. now she’d sell her soul to hear you ramble about dog names again.

she sits where you used to smile. same angle. same slouch. same spot you leaned against when you kissed her like she was something soft.

now she just sits there alone.

she presses a hand against the worn wood beside her, where your leg used to be. where your warmth once bled into hers.

it's cold.

vi closes her eyes.

she imagines you sitting next to her. turning your face to the sun. nudging her knee with yours.

she imagines leaning her head on your shoulder and you letting her. imagine you saying, “i missed you.”

she imagines it so hard her throat aches with it.

but when she opens her eyes, it’s just her again. her and a dying sky and a city that doesn’t care she’s breaking.

she doesn’t cry. not this time.

just sits. still. quiet.

maybe if she stays long enough, the wind will carry your voice back to her.

maybe if she breathes slow enough, she’ll remember what your laugh sounded like.

maybe this bench can love her like you used to.

“in my dreams, you still love me”

vi’s not a heavy sleeper these days.

too many nights tangled in sweat-soaked sheets, heart pounding, brain chasing things that aren’t there anymore.

but tonight?

tonight you’re there.

you’re there.

she doesn’t remember how it starts — just that she’s suddenly holding your hand. you’re laughing. god, your laugh. she forgot how it sounded in real life. but here, it’s perfect. you’re wearing that hoodie she liked to steal from her, the one way too big, sleeves past your hands. you're looking at her like you never stopped.

like you never left.

“told you i’d come back,” you whisper.

vi’s whole body shudders.

she cups your face like it’s glass, thumbs sweeping under your eyes like she’s memorizing you. she’s crying — she knows that — but she doesn’t care. she pulls you in, breath hitching.

“please don’t go,” she begs.

you smile at her. so soft. so damn gentle.

“i never left.”

you kiss her.

and it’s everything she remembers and more.

warmth. safety. that ache in her chest that only ever quieted when your hands were on her.

she buries herself in you. holds you like the world’s about to end.

because somewhere, deep in her, she knows it’s not real.

and sure enough—

her eyes snap open.

dark room. cold sheets. empty bed.

her chest caves in.

she sits up fast, hand on her mouth like she can shove the sobs back in before they start.

“fuck—”

it all crashes down. the dream. the feel of your lips. the sound of your voice.

gone.

it was all gone.

she folds in half, forehead to knees, shaking so hard the mattress creaks beneath her.

it felt so real. you felt so real.

and now?

now there’s nothing but the aftertaste of a kiss she never got to keep.

she lies back down eventually. stares at the ceiling.

doesn’t sleep.

doesn’t try.

because what if she dreams of you again?

and this time, forgets to wake up?

“the sun was out when she saw you again”

it’s a good day.

sun’s out. streets are warm. vi’s got a coffee in one hand and her hoodie sleeves pushed up, letting the light kiss skin that’s gone cold for months.

she’s almost smiling.

almost.

then she sees you.

at first, her brain doesn’t register it. just a flash of familiar movement, a laugh like windchimes. the kind of sound that used to turn her head.

and it still does.

she stops walking.

because it’s you.

standing across the street. hair shining in the sun. that same smile she used to see first thing in the morning. you're talking to someone. laughing like your ribs don't still live in her hands.

vi's lungs forget how to work.

you don’t see her.

thank the stars, you don’t see her.

she stares.

takes a step back, coffee sloshing, heart slamming so loud it drowns out the city.

you look good. too good. better than you ever did at the end. peace looks good on you. like healing fits you just fine. like you moved on and didn’t need to take her with you.

vi’s frozen on the sidewalk.

wants to run to you. wants to scream. wants to disappear.

but she just stands there, swallowing broken glass, watching the girl she loved walk forward into a life that doesn't have her in it anymore.

you toss your head back when you laugh. the sun hits your skin. you’re glowing.

and it kills her.

because she used to be the reason for that glow.

now she’s just another shadow watching from across the street.

she doesn’t follow you. she’s not that selfish. not anymore.

but as you vanish into the crowd, she wipes her eyes with the back of her hand and forces her feet to move.

the coffee’s cold now. she doesn’t care.

the sun’s still shining, bright and warm and cruel.

and vi walks home in silence, trying not to wonder who gets to kiss you goodnight now.

“you came back on a tuesday”

it was a tuesday.

not a special day. not an anniversary. just… a tuesday.

vi was fixing the goddamn window hinge. her knuckles scraped. hoodie sleeves rolled up. sweat at her temples.

the knock on her door wasn’t even loud. just two soft taps. like whoever was on the other side wasn’t sure they had the right place.

she wiped her hands on her thigh and swung the door open, annoyed.

and then —

silence.

time did that thing it always did around you.

stopped.

you were standing there. same eyes. same mouth. same weight in your stare that said, i shouldn’t be here but i am.

vi didn’t speak. couldn’t.

you looked nervous. your fingers were clenched in the sleeves of your sweater — hers. the one she gave you and thought you’d thrown away.

you didn’t smile. that hurt the most.

instead, you whispered:

“can i come in?”

vi stepped aside like her body moved before her brain did.

you walked in like a ghost. like if you looked too hard, you’d vanish.

vi shut the door. turned around. looked at you like you were the last page of a book she never got to finish.

“why are you here?” her voice broke at the end. just enough for you to hear.

you swallowed. stared at the scuffed floor like it had answers.

“i tried,” you said. “i tried to forget you. i tried to move on. i even went on dates, vi.” you laughed. bitter. cracked. “but nothing ever felt like you. not even close.”

her heart thudded once. then again.

you finally looked up at her.

“i missed you every day.”

vi didn’t cry. not yet. but something in her face cracked — like the part of her that had been bricked up just split open.

“you left.”

you nodded. “i know.”

“you didn’t say goodbye.”

your lip trembled. “i know.”

silence.

then:

“but i’m here now.”

and that’s when vi moved. fast. desperate. she crossed the room and pulled you in so tight your breath hitched.

she buried her face in your neck like it was still hers to kiss. her hands shook against your back.

“don’t leave again,” she rasped. “don’t you fucking leave me again.”

you whispered into her skin:

“i won’t.”

and she kissed you like you were air after drowning.

you stayed the night.

not in her bed — not yet. but on the couch. curled into her side. holding hands like they were anchors.

and for the first time in months, vi fell asleep to the sound of your breathing.

and it didn’t hurt.

alright and about the requests, i already received all of them! don't worry, i will write as soon as the inspiration hits!

#vi x reader #violet x reader #vi arcane #arcane

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luxlightly · 3 months ago

Text

Fragile

A fanfic of @personostient's OC Dr.Arachne in their recent comic

I said I desperately wanted to read more about him and they said "then write it yourself, scrub" (more or less) so here's this. I have now a multiple chapter story in my head for this but at least here's a very small (as of yet unnamed) Arachne trying to understand complex ideas like sympathy and compassion when he's only big enough to fit 2 brain cells in him and one is fully occupied with having OCD.

---

In retrospect, gnawing on the already weak supports of a load bearing cross beam was a bad idea vis-a-vis the structural integrity of the floor above but, in its defense, its grasp of architecture was somewhat lacking.

Also, it had only done so to get at the termites within, who'd already done some pretty extensive damage to the whole area.

Really, it had been inevitable.

Only a matter of time before someone or something fell straight through to the dark and dusty basement.

Into the spider’s web.

Well, straight through its web, tearing up hours of work and crushing a very delicious looking moth that the spider had been saving for later and sending the spider frantically scrambling away, dodging bits of debris.

It wasn't exactly a spider, but it wasn't exactly not a spider, either. Something closer to “the elements of spiders that instill fear”. All fangs, legs, eyes, and jittery movement.

Not that it was instilling much fear at this size, though the exact nature of the size was nebulous at best. Somewhere between a rat, a golf ball, and a human heart, the shifting mass of jet black limbs and glowing red eyes would lose in a fight with the average house cat or particularly determined mouse.

So a dead, fully grown human, delivered to its metaphorical doorstep, was a fortuitous turn of events, indeed.

It could put so much of that mass to use, finally having enough to form some more complex systems, maybe even to venture out beyond the basement!

The spider scurried out from its hiding place in the dark, excited but still cautious, and onto the chest of the human. The smell of blood was thick in the air.

The spider had been trying to determine the best way of beginning to consume such a feast when some of its eyes made unexpected contact with another pair.

The human blinked and the spider froze.

Oh fuck. That rising and falling of the chest was breathing! That thing vertebrates did when they were alive!

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

For a long moment, the two just stared at each other.

Then, the human raised a hand, reaching towards it, and the spider braced to be crushed. It squeezed all its eyes closed, but the pain didn't come.

The hand instead ran two fingers softly over its body in a gentle, repetitive motion.

“Hey…little buddy…” the human wheezed. “It's okay…I'm not--” the human paused to cough, specks of blood dotting his lips. “--not gonna hurt you. ‘M a doctor…Do…’do no harm’...”

The human’s eyes were glassy and its breathing seemed labored.

The spider didn't know a whole lot about human anatomy, but it was pretty sure they needed their blood to stay almost entirely inside of them or it was detrimental to their health. The amount that surrounded the human and was currently leaking from a gash across his side was probably more than was supposed to be outside of him at any given time.

The various pieces of wood and glass embedded in his flesh were probably also probably bad.

The spider stayed frozen in terror, tiny body trembling as the hand that was nearly as big as it was continued to run along its carapace.

“Shhh…” the human hushed, though the spider had made no sound. “ ‘s okay. Okay to be scared. I'm…heh…I'm a little scared myself…”

The spider’s venom was laughably weak at this size, barely enough to put a human under for a few minutes, but that would likely be all it took for his injuries to finish him off.

It would be easy enough to strike out and bite him as he continued his odd pattern of stroking his hand across its body but, strangely…the spider found it didn't really want the motions to stop.

It felt…nice.

Centimeter by centimeter, the spider's body relaxed, leaning into the touch, eventually pressing back into the human’s fingers.

The human let out a wet sounding chuckle.

“You’re a weird little thing, huh? I think…I think I may have lost a bit too much blood…”

His hand went still, settling against his chest and his eyes closed. His breathing continued, but it was growing weaker by the moment.

Well, that problem solved itself, it seemed. Now the only problem the spider faced was again trying to find a way to best consume a creature so much larger than itself.

Perhaps…perhaps it should wait until he was dead before trying to eat him. After all, he had not killed it, though it was easily within his power. Perhaps it was only fair that it not kill him, in return.

Though, technically it was sort of its fault for gnawing through the support beams, which would mean it had killed him. No more so than the termites had, though, certainly!

Fine. It would eat him then finish eating the termites as recompense and all would be good and balanced and correct.

The spider let out a frustrated chittering noise, pacing tiny circles around the human’s chest.

It was not all good and balanced and correct! It was bad and wobbly and wrong like rotten, termite eaten wood and it felt Bad! But why?

The human was full of holes now, too. The spider had gnawed holes in the wood. Maybe it could close these holes in the human and it would not be Bad anymore. Yes, then it would be balanced. Then this feeling of Wrong would settle.

And…maybe the human would continue his gentle repetitive touches again.

The spider crawled up to the human's face, where a small gash weeped blood. Trying to get the blood to go back inside seemed like it was likely a lost cause. Liquids hated going where they were supposed to and the spider hated it about them. The human would just have to find new blood on his own, once his stopped leaking.

Long appendages tipped with spinnerets extended up from the spider's mass, stretching fine silken stands between them.

Pressing against the human's skin, it tethered a strand above and below the very end of cut, then crossed the limbs, pulling the stands taut before anchoring the strands to the skin again, a fraction of a centimeter down the length of the cut, forming a tiny ‘x’.

It repeated the motion. The silk’s adhesive held strong. It repeated the motion. Then repeated it again.

And again and again and again.

Bit by bit, the skin pulled together over the wound in a surprisingly satisfying way and the spider’s limbs became a blur of movement, crossing over each other a dozen times a second.

The repetitive nature of the movement scratched some itch in it's mind oh so nicely. All balanced and mirrored and equal and Good.

It was almost disappointed when the wound was fully closed, the seam of tiny, gossamer stitches nearly invisible, as if the wound had never been.

Luckily, there were many more holes left to close.

It moved to another on his collar, stitching it up in only a few seconds, then pulled a shard of glass from his shoulder and sealed the wound there just as quickly.

Before the spider could move on to the next wound, the thrumming in the human’s chest, his heart’s pulsing movement, stuttered. It's rhythm grew ever weaker.

The spider didn't know all that much about how creatures of flesh and blood worked, but it knew that, when that pulse stopped, they did too, and that they needed blood to keep it going.

The gash across the human's side was leaking a lot of blood. It had to be closed soon or the human would almost certainly die.

The spider moved to the wound and started the same pattern of criss-crossed silk that it had closed the other's with. It got an inch or so down the length of the gash when the silk's glue gave way, the wound splitting back open.

The spider chittered, pensively.

The wound was too big and the blood flow from it too strong for the silk to stick to the skin tightly enough. It needed something more substantial.

Holding up a leg, it stretched the tip out to a nearly hair-thin strand.

It could spare just enough of its own body to hold the wound closed enough for the silk to seal it. It wouldn't take much.

But…sealing a wound held together by a piece of itself would mean sealing a piece of its body in the human's. What effect might that have on such a creature?

After all, its body didn't have to exist in one single piece. So what was really the difference between making a part of its body a part of the human's and making the human's body a part of its own?

But, without action, the human would die either way.

…

Surely, such a tiny piece of itself would do no harm…

The spider used another limb to pull the thin, jet black strand taut. Using the sharp tip of the strand, it pierced the flesh on one side of the wound, then the other, weaving itself back and forth through the human's skin, pulling the torn edges back together.

Once the gap was closed, the spider sealed it with silk, the same as the others.

Good and Balanced and Correct.

#other's ocs #my writing #I love this little guy #he's 50% legs 50% eyes and somehow another 100% neurosis #Dr.Arachne

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year ago

Text

Leader of the Pack 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: On a night out at the bar, you're promoted from wing woman to main star.

Characters: James Conrad, short!reader

Note: it’s hump dayyyy.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

"Go grab us a pool table," Martyna demands as she leans on the bar.

"Oh, sure," you turn to search the bar. There's only one table and it's taken. You frown. "Someone's already on it."

"So what? Go put a stack of quarters on it," she says, "I can't. I gotta get my drink."

"Right, er," you teeter on your feet and look back at the table, one man lining up his shot as the other watches, his thick hands around his cue.

The shooter snaps the stick and the clack of balls is sharp and strong. You near nervously, pulling out change as you keep just outside their perimeter as the second man considers his turn with a suck of his teeth. Where he's burly, with a shaggy dark beard, and faded ball cap, the other man has blonde hair and is lithe. They are both tall, though the slimmer man has at least an inch on the other.

You step forward as the man aims from the other corner. You set down four quarters in a stack, just enough to feed the table for another round. The thicker man pauses as he pulls back the cue and narrows his eyes.

"Eh, you're gonna mess me up," he barks.

"Oh, sorry," you recoil and fold your hands over your chest, "I was only..."

You quiet as he grumbles and shakes his head, eyes pinpointing on the felt. You shake your head and back up as the other man tisks.

"Syverson, don't have to be so rude, the lady is merely claiming her turn," the slender man intones, just a foot from you as he twirls the cue, it's butt set to the floor. "Don't fret over my companion," he girds in his peculiar accent, "he's a sore loser."

"Heh, what's that about..." the other man hits the cue ball and sends a striped one into the pocket, "losing?"

You're quiet, nodding as you try to think of the proper response. No one's ever called you a lady. Most people don't notice you. It's why Martyna prefers you as her wing woman, you keep her company until she finds someone fun.

"Rather, you set me up finely," the first man retorts.

You cross your arms protectively and back up, making sure you're out of the broader man as he stalks around to place his next shot. His friend watches calmly, unbothered as he knocks another ball in, then lines up for the third. That one's a miss.

"Shit," the man in the ball cap stands straight and sends you a look. You're not even close to the trim.

"Oh, don't even try to blame her," the blond reprimands, "that's not very valiant, is it?"

"Whatever," the other grumbles as he plants his feet and watches the other.

The slimmer man puts his first shot easily in the corner, the next he sends two balls into opposite pockets, and the next sees him with only the eight ball left to sink. His opponent huffs and shakes his head. You rock back and forth, you hope he wins if only to clear the table.

"Finally," Martyna nudges you as she comes up beside you, "they didn't have Corona, you believe that?"

"Oh, that's crummy," you say, watching the mam measure his shot.

"Mmph, I know you don't give a crap," she scoffs, "why didn't you grab a ginger ale?"

"I'm fine, just had that iced coffee," you shrug.

She hums again. She knows you don't drink, that this isn't your scene, that you're not exactly a social butterfly, so why does she act so disappointed. She invited you. It's always her idea, never yours. You just go along, otherwise you'd have nothing to do and no friends.

"Kinda cute," she leans over to whisper, "look at his shoulders..."

You lower your brow as your cheeks burn. You hadn't really thought of that. Then, you wonder, which one she's talking about. They both have nice shoulders and muscular arms.

They're strangers! You shouldn't think of that. You uncross your arms and once more clasp your hands together.

The man finally shoots, calling left pocket. He calls it true. The ball rolls in and his buddy sighs and swears.

"Nice," Martyna pops her lips off her bottle of flavoured vodka, "our turn."

She steps and grabs the quarters. The bearded man tilts his head at her and fixes his camouflage cap. His cheek dimples as the other man rounds the table and pats his shoulder, "better luck next time, chap."

"Isn't luck," the burly one utters and rolls his eyes, "hustler..."

"And yet you keep falling for it," the other snickers, "come on, I'll buy you a celebratory pint, eh?" The blond turns and strides toward you. "Miss, you're up."

He offers the cue and your lashes flick. You couldn't see his eyes before. They're so blue. You gulp and accept the wooden stick.

"Thank you," you squeak.

Martyna chuckles and grabs the triangle frame from the slot and sets it out. The blond leads away his second, the man with the beard sending a glance at Martyna as she loads the quarters to release the balls. You wait for her to set up, standing back with the cue in hand. You can still feel the warmth of its previous holder's grip.

Martyna swigs from her bottle and sets it back on the trim. She fluffs her black curls and makes a pouty face. She's not doing that for you.

You glance behind her, those men are watching. The blond nods cordially and returns his attention to the bar. The beard one continues to leer in Martyna's direction. You spin back.

"You wanna break?" You ask.

"Sure, whatevs," she turns to the table.

You wait patiently as she scatters the balls. She sinks two solids. She's always been better at this than you. You don't mind losing. It doesn't make much of a difference.

She sinks two more before your turn comes. You regret not grabbing a soda as you mouth grows dry. Martyna is sure to loudly tell you about this guy she works with and how much he wants her. You just humour her with smiles and mhmms. It isn't you she wants to hear her. You know her tricks.

You sink a stripe, then a solid. Back to Martyna. You aren't very good at the game. Your arm's are too short. Maybe if you could get on the table you'd have a chance but that's not proper.

She narrows the solids down to two plus the eight ball. You try your hand again. Scratch. But she misses her shot and you get another go. You sink two before you're done. Still, you're behind.

She empties her bottle, a dramatic gulp that extends her whole body. She outshines you in all aspects; her hair, her looks, her height, her clothes...

She wiggles her but as she bends to clean up. One ball, then two, then she lines up for the final blow. The eight. She calls the corner. She bounces it easily into the pocket and squees and hops, her shirt doing little to contain her amped up excitement.

You lean the cue against your arm and give a clap, "good job, Mart," you say. Genuinely. It was fun enough.

"Aw, you did good," she preens, "how about a rematch? Got any more change?"

"Ahem," a voice interrupts as you grab your purse. The jangle of change comes from behind you and a shadow steps forward, "perhaps you might want to make it interesting? Fancy a round of pairs?"

You glance over at the man with blond hair and lilted accent. Well, you look at his sleeve and follow it up. His profile is well-forged. If you had a type, he might be it. You never considered many men, they never considered you either.

"Pairs?" Martyna toys with proposal coyly and eyes the bearded man as he comes up beside his friend, "I guess it makes sense. But girls vs boys?"

"No fun," the blond agrees, "we might mix it up, eh?" He grins, "James," he touches his chest, "this is--"

"Sy," the other man, who you called Syverson, speaks up, "ladies."

"Martyna," your friend rolls out.

You offer your name in a pitchy stammer. You already feel like the odd one out. The tension is thick enough to choke you.

"Sy, fetch us some cues," James demands, "I'll claim a partner," he looks over at you, "do you mind?"

"Oh, er, yeah, but um, I'm not very good," you say, certain he must have been able to see as much from across the room.

"I'm certain we'll work fabulously together," he assures.

"Here," Sy returns with two sticks, nearly jabbing the James with the spare.

You cling to your cue and fidget. You have no idea what to do now. Someone has to begin.

"I'll break," Sy insists.

"Of course, loser's first," James quips.

He gets an arch of the thick brow in return before Sy bends to aim between two fingers. You dig your nail into the wood of the cue in your hand. James sidles closer, crowding you as you catch a hint of something citrus.

Sy bends and pulls back the cue. He hits the ball and sends it zooming fast enough to crack the triangle on the other end. The stripes and solids scatter, bouncing all around. James chuckles and leans towards you.

“You’ll see he’s about strength, he doesn’t realise the significance of precision,” he intones, “I can show you. It isn’t about how hard you hit but the exact angle,” he tilts his hand to demonstrate as the balls still but non fall into the pockets. “Ladies first.”

You don’t move right away. At first, you don’t get his meaning. You lift the cue and approach the table. You look around. It’s your choice; stripes or solids. Whatever you can get, as usual.

That number four is hovering right at the side pocket. It’s an easy score. You’ll take it.

You position yourself, overly aware of your audience. It feels like the whole bare is watching. You blow out your breath and set your sights. You pull back and snap forward. The cue ball wobbles in its path but hits true, knocking the four into the hole.

It isn’t exactly precise. You stand straight and let out and oomph as your back meets an unexpected wall. James brings his arms up and puts his hands around yours. His proximity is suffocating.

“You’ve got an easy in on the five,” he advises, guiding you to bend with him as he directs your stick. “Loose,” he wiggles your front hand and squeezes your back hand. “Keep it like this, not too high.”

He holds you like that for a moment then draws back. He steps to the side and crosses his arms. You focus on the ball, your skin speckling with heat. His scent lingers, perhaps a touch of orange in his cologne. You keep your hold loose and grip tight the butt of the cue. You shoot and the white ball clacks off the red solid, sending it neatly into the corner.

Martyna giggles and you look up. She’s not laughing at you. Sy is muttering something to her. You blink and stands straight, glancing over at James. You understand what this is but you’re the placeholder, the wing woman, you just keep the friend busy while she has her fun. You know how this ends.

“You’ve got another go,” James says.

You nod dumbly and face the table again. You search for your best hope and shift around to the other side. You nearly cross your eyes in your efforts to bounce the ball from one wall into the opposite pocket. You just miss. You cringe and back away.

Your gaze meets James’ as you find him watching you still. Martyna moves to line up her shot, giggling over her shoulder as she does. As you edge away from her, that man’s eyes follow you. They’re so blue. So, intense.

You look at the tip of the cue and tap your thumb to the side. You’re in your head. He’s not really staring. When you peek up again, he hasn’t looked away. Not even as you hear the balls hit. He winks and your chest pounds in disbelief.

This can’t be real.

#james conrad #kong: skull island #dark james conrad #dark!james conrad #james conrad x reader #fic #dark fic #leader of the pack #dark!fic #series

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plsdontseemeeeee · 2 months ago

Text

Safe are the Ghosts Lay me in the meadows ...

pt 7/ ????

Summary: In post-apocalyptic Jackson, you work as a medic and navigate tense relationships—especially with Ellie and your father, Joel. Despite the past, grief, and unspoken wounds, you figure out how to continue in a world that seems to love nothing more than ruining your life. - based of the HBO television series, currently in Episode two

currently showing: Heh, what is this you may ask? PROCRASTINATION GUYS I DON'T WANNA GO GOLFING SO THEREFORE JOEL NOW GETS TO BE LIKE HUH OK IG STARSHINE HAS A GF NOW?? that's all

Authors note: um... so I had a tumblr since 2023 and I somehow deleted it...so reposting my latest series.

Parirings: Joel & daughter! reader, Ellie x Reader (it will happen just give it TIME) Abby x reader (very minimal, just like harmless lil crushes)

“Head high.”

Her voice cut through the air like a blade, sharp and breathless, snapping you out of the fog clawing at the edges of your mind. Her fingers gripped the collar of your coat with more force than necessary, tugging it straight—tight—until the pressure made your knees tremble.

Her hands didn’t shake. But her voice did. Not enough for anyone else to hear it. But you did.

“You be strong,” she said again, eyes locking with yours, wild and wide with fear she wasn’t letting rise to the surface. “You’re strong.”

And for a moment, you weren’t in a barn or a battlefield or the middle of a storm. You were just a kid again, looking up into a face that had always made things better—Tess, jaw clenched like she could hold back the world with her will alone, eyes burning because she couldn’t afford to cry. You nodded, throat too tight to speak. She didn’t need a reply. She just needed to know that you'd walk out of there with your spine straight and your eyes forward—even if the ground was shaking beneath your feet.

“Momma—” The word slipped from your mouth before you could stop it. Small. Broken. That old name—buried under years of ash and grit—rose up like a ghost in your throat.

Tess shook her head before you could say anything more, pressing her hands to your arms with a force that rooted you in place. Her grip was firm—unchangeable—but you could feel it. The tremble beneath her skin. Not from weakness. Not from fear. But from urgency. From knowing what came next and not being able to stop it.

Her breath was shallow, uneven. Her eyes—red at the edges, ringed with sweat and smoke—searched your face like she was trying to memorize it one last time. Like she was holding onto the sight of you the way you’d once held onto her hand as a child—tight, unrelenting, like letting go meant the world would slip through your fingers.

“No, no…” she breathed, voice cracking in a way you’d only heard once before—back when you were sick, and she thought she was going to lose you. “You gotta go, baby. You gotta go—”

“I don’t—” you choked on the words, voice barely holding itself together, like your throat couldn’t decide whether to scream or sob. “I don’t want to—”

Your hands reached for her again, desperate, trembling, small. Just like you used to be when she’d pull you out of bed during raids or storms and tell you to be brave—when all you really wanted was to stay in her arms and let the world crash outside.

But this time, she didn’t pull you close.

“Nope,” Tess snapped, the word sharp and final like a slammed door. Her jaw clenched, her voice tight and cracking all at once—like it was holding back more than she was willing to show. Her eyes were glassy, rimmed with unshed tears she refused to let fall in front of you. “You don’t get to want right now,” she said, and each word cut into the air like a blade. “You go. That’s what you do. That’s what I taught you. You run. You live.”

She was already stepping back, her fingers slipping from your arms slowly—deliberately—as if she knew it would be the last time. Like if she held on any longer, she wouldn’t let go at all. Like she was tearing a piece of herself off and leaving it with you.

Then— “Oh my GOD!” Ellie’s voice cracked through the narrow hallway like thunder, wild and full of dread. She was pacing, hands in her hair, eyes darting like she couldn’t look at the truth head-on.

“She got bit,” she shouted, half to you, half to herself. “A fuckin’ bite! A— OH MY GOD!” The words echoed off the broken walls of what was left of the Firefly base, bouncing around the bloodstains and spent rounds.

Tess turned her face to the side, just enough to hide the bite on her neck, just enough to let the shadows swallow it. But you saw it. And she saw that you saw. “You go, go and grow up and you do all of the things I know you can do, go and survive, Starry,” she said, eyes locked with yours one final time, “Go.” her eyes go to Joel, “Go.”

–

You sat at the piano, fingers grazing the keys as if some old memory was trapped beneath them, begging to be set free. The air was thick with silence, heavy with the weight of everything left behind. Above you, in the lofted bed, bodies lay curled into one another—old, rotted, still. The shape of what once was love, preserved only by decay. Potted plants, now brittle husks, lined the windowsill, their soil long dried and cracked. Outside, the gates still held—strong, defiant against the elements—but inside, the beauty of what had been built was beginning to crumble. Dust coated the armory in the corner, weapons untouched, once symbols of protection and preparation, now relics of hope long since buried. The walls bore the ghosts of art and expression, paintings faded, photographs curled at the edges, every corner whispering of lives lived fully and lost too soon. Art and beauty wilted. People died. Memory faded. But the blood—that never washed away. It soaked deep into the floorboards, immune to time. The arrow that once stood dull in its peace had grown sharper not by hand, but by the erosion of everything soft around it. What was left behind was not gentleness or legacy, but a sharpened edge, a quiet piano, and a world that kept forgetting.

“Hey.”

Ellie’s voice was soft—uncharacteristically so—and it came from just over your shoulder. You didn’t turn to look at her. You didn’t have it in you. Instead, you gave the faintest nod, enough to tell her she could sit. The bench creaked as she did, wood groaning under the weight of two people and too much grief.

Your fingers hovered above the piano keys again, unmoving now. Whatever memory had stirred in you earlier had gone quiet, buried again beneath the weight in your chest. Grief wasn’t new—not in this world—but this? This was something else. It wasn’t just death. It wasn’t just pain.

It was everything.

The loss of your anchor, of the only person who had ever made the weight feel lighter—even for a moment. The ringing in your ears hadn’t faded since that blast, a phantom echo that followed you even in sleep. And now this—this house, this sacred, hollow space that had once held warmth and purpose—was collapsing under time’s slow cruelty. The vines would eat it, the snow would break it, and the world would forget it.

Just like it forgot everything else. It felt like your whole life was crumbling in slow motion, and there was nothing left to do but sit in the ruins.

There was a long moment—just the hum of the wind through the cracked barn walls, the faint creak of the old piano bench beneath you both—before Ellie spoke again.

“Bill seemed like a cool guy.”

You snorted, a dry, broken laugh slipping from your chest before you could stop it. “Yeah,” you said, eyes still on the keys, “he was a jerk.”

Ellie scoffed beside you, her tone playful but soft around the edges. “Oof. Hope you said that to his face too, ‘cause otherwise you’re just talking shit about dead people.”

You turned your head just slightly, enough to catch the flicker of a smirk tugging at her mouth.

“Trust me,” you murmured, “he knew my opinions.”

Ellie leaned back a little on the bench, arms stretched across the top of it, looking around the room with that expression she wore when she didn’t quite know what to do with silence—restless, like she was trying to fill it without making it worse. Her eyes drifted up to the lofted bed, the still figures beneath the blanket, the dust settled thick like snow on the floor.

“Still,” she said after a moment, voice low now. “I dunno. It’s kinda… weird. Beautiful. In a morbid way. This place. A little slice of…i don’t know 1950’s sitcom-ism.”

You didn’t answer right away. Just looked at the keys again, your fingers twitching slightly like they wanted to press one, just one, to hear if the sound still worked. You didn’t. Not yet.

“Yeah,” you finally whispered. “They made it mean something. As much as they could.”

Ellie tilted her head. “You think they were in love? LIke…love, love?”

You let out a soft exhale—less a laugh, more like the air was heavy in your lungs. “Yeah. I think so. I think they were scared, and angry, and stubborn as hell… but yeah. I think they loved each other. And if they didn’t then fuck- could’ve fooled me..”

Ellie didn’t say anything to that. She didn’t need to. Her silence was agreement.

You glanced at her again, this time with something sadder behind your eyes. “It’s hard, you know? Watching the world end slowly. Over and over again. But they held their little piece of it, well, Bill did. Frank made it …well, he painted the room, the one I stayed in. They made it …something good.”

“Yeah,” Ellie said, swallowing thickly. “They did.”

You pressed one key finally. A soft note echoed out—haunting, hollow, still alive. It faded into the stillness like a breath. You didn’t look at Ellie. Just sat in it. Let the sound settle.

Then you smirked slightly. “He once tried to set me up with someone, you know. Technically it was Bill’s idea, but he made Frank swear up and down it was his. A girl,” The words faltered on your lips, as you could feel Ellie’s gaze shift on you, a girl was what they thought you would want, as a girl so you clear your throat, “Another smuggler’s kid.”

Ellie blinked. “Wait—what?”

You grinned, just a little. “Swore we’d ‘make a practical pair.’ His words.”

“And?”

You shrugged. “She hated my guts. Called me a bleeding-heart knife freak.”

Ellie barked out a laugh, too loud for the room, but you didn’t mind. “Sounds like your type.”

“Shut up.”

“No, really, I’m picturing it now—very intense, very stabby courtship—”

You were laughing now too, and it cracked something open in your chest. Not grief. Not exactly.

–

You barely had time to scramble upright, legs fumbling beneath you, vision blurred with tears that stung more than they cleared. The noise was deafening—growls, snarls, chaos—and then Joel’s hand, rough and familiar, grabbed your arm in a vice grip and shoved you out of the way.

It was instinct. Reflex. Love.

He barely got you clear of the charge before the thing crashed toward you, all limbs and shrieks and rot.

What had once been a boy—just a kid. Maybe eight, maybe younger. Now twisted. Snapping teeth. Hands like claws. Eyes gone. Just hunger.

You hit the ground hard, the breath punched out of your lungs as your knees slammed into the packed dirt and crusted snow. The impact sent a jolt up your spine, and for a brief, disoriented second, all you could hear was the dull thud of your body meeting earth and the high ring of your own heartbeat in your ears.

Then—pain.

Immediate. Sharp. Wrong.

Something latched onto your ankle with a force that stole not just your breath, but your sense of reality. One second you were on the ground—alive, moving, thinking—and the next, you were being dragged. Your hands scrambled across the frozen dirt, fingers clawing for anything to hold onto—twigs, broken stone, splinters of what might’ve once been a barn beam—but the snow gave you nothing. Nothing.

The grip on your leg tightened, claws digging through the leather of your boot and catching skin. You felt it break. The tearing. The pressure. The shock.

And then the scream ripped out of you—raw, loud, animal. It wasn’t words. It wasn’t thought. It was the kind of sound that came from deep inside your chest, where instinct lived and logic didn’t matter. Your throat burned with it, tears stinging your eyes as your entire body fought against the pull—against the thing dragging you back into the dark.

You could hear it behind you now—snarling, breathing, moving with that frantic, erratic twitch that only the infected carried. The sound of nails skittering on wood. Teeth gnashing air. The wet slop of something ruined and reanimated.

“DA—”

But the word didn’t even finish.

A gunshot split the air like thunder.

Everything rang. High-pitched, sharp, wrong. Your vision blurred further, not from tears now—but from blood.

Warmth dripped down the side of your face, sticking your hair to your cheek, crawling down your neck. You didn’t know if it was yours. Didn’t know whose it was. All you could hear was the high screech of panic in your ears and the faraway sound of yelling—muffled, like underwater.

Joel. You knew his voice even through the ringing. Yelling your name. Yelling something else.

And your eyes—wide, stinging, bloodied—barely had time to register what you were seeing.

Henry.

He stood there, frozen in place, gun trembling in his hands, arms locked like a man holding the sky on his back. His face was cracked open in shock, in disbelief, in the kind of grief that doesn’t make a sound because it can’t.

And at his feet—

Sam.

Oh… Sam.

He’d turned. He’d turned, and the moment it happened—just a flicker, just a blink—Henry had moved.

He shot him.

He shot his little brother.

Because there was no other choice.

Your breath hitched, caught sharp in your chest like glass. Barely even sitting up, your blood falling down the side of your face, warm despite it all running like ice.

BANG.

The second shot.

You flinched hard, arms rising like they could protect you from it, even though it was already done. Even though the room had already gone quiet.

Henry’s body hit the floor before the echo even faded. And all you could do was stand there. Bleeding. Shaking. Watching.

Helpless.

Joel, since that day, normally stuck to your left side, where the skin of your ear had been torn.

—

“Abigail.”

“Sparrow.”

Her voice cracked through the chaos like it had been waiting years to say your name. And maybe it had.

Your legs started moving before your brain caught up, your body carried by something deeper than instinct—something ancient, something aching. You pushed off the ground, boots slamming against warped wooden steps as you climbed the rickety staircase two at a time, breath fogging in the freezing air, the cold suddenly nothing compared to the heat blooming in your chest.

You met her at the top—right there, on the landing—like the world wasn’t ending below your feet. Like the horde of infected pounding at the outer doors weren’t real. Like the wind wasn’t howling through broken beams behind you. Like none of it mattered.

Because she was there. Standing at the top of those splintered stairs like a ghost made real—after all this time, after you had convinced yourself she’d either forgotten you or died somewhere out in the cold. You’d pictured it a thousand ways: her gone without a trace, swallowed up by infection or raiders or the cruel indifference of the world. It was easier to believe she’d been lost than to imagine she’d simply moved on. That she'd let you become one more fading thing in her rearview. But she hadn’t. She remembered. She came.

Even through blizzards and blood and sirens that never stopped wailing in your head, she came. You remembered the way her laugh used to cut through the dark like a spark, the way she once held your trembling hands in some ruined schoolhouse basement and told you it was okay to cry—but then she left. Or maybe you left. The details blurred, both of you torn in different directions by war and circumstance and survival. Still, she found you. Not by chance—by choice. And that mattered more than the horde at your back or the frost clinging to your lashes.

Her cheeks were raw from the wind, her jacket half-frozen, a cut blooming at her temple—but her eyes… her eyes were on you like she’d never looked away. Like she hadn’t let you go for a second, even when everything said she should’ve. And your name on her lips still felt like a promise. The embrace was short-lived, but in that brief moment it held a thousand unspoken things—years of silence, grief left to rot in the spaces between, the unbearable hope that maybe, just maybe, the other had made it. Her hand pressed to the back of your head, grounding you, fingers buried in your hair like she couldn’t believe you were solid, real. Your breaths came out sharp and ragged, gasping like you were both trying to breathe for the first time in a long time, like you were daring the world to correct you—to say this was a hallucination, a dream conjured by cold and exhaustion and too much missing.

But it wasn’t.

You pulled back at the same time, still gripping her arms like letting go would somehow undo the moment. And when you both got a good look at each other—really looked, through the blood and bruises, the snow in your lashes, the sheer alive-ness of it all—all you could do was laugh.

A shaky, breathless, disbelieving laugh.

“Hi.”

Her voice cracked, and her grin split through the grime on her face like sunlight. “Oh fuck—hi.”

Then, in proper Joel fashion, he cleared his throat—loud, gruff, and perfectly timed to cut through the moment without completely shattering it. Your eyes flicked toward him, and he gave you that look—half exasperation, half soft patience masked as urgency. You nodded once, still caught somewhere between disbelief and relief, and then turned back to her.

And almost without thinking—like your body needed one final confirmation that this wasn’t some cruel dream conjured by adrenaline and blood loss—you leaned in and pressed a quick, chaste kiss to her forehead. It landed more on the edge of her knit hat than skin, but it didn’t matter. It was the weight of it. The intention. The grounding of it. She’s here.

You pulled back with a shaky breath, the cold still biting at your cheeks, and muttered, “Uh—what—we gotta go.”

“No shit,” Joel coughed.

“Dad—” you started, turning toward him just as he stepped past, boots heavy on the stairs.

“Sorry,” Joel said, not missing a beat. “Bonding moment—got it. Real sweet. But we gotta go, kiddo.”

He patted your shoulder as he passed, gentle but firm. The kind of touch that said he was glad you were safe—both of you—but now it was time to move.

He patted your shoulder as he passed—gentle, but firm. The kind of touch that said everything without saying a word: I’m glad you’re okay. I see you. Now let’s move.

“Um, right, um—Gale, my dad—Dad—” you stammered, adrenaline still chasing your words as you turned toward the unfolding urgency.

Joel gave a nod as he checked over Maple, running a hand down the gelding’s neck, eyes scanning for any injuries before gripping the saddle horn and mounting with a grunt, his body tense but focused, like he’d never once known a moment of rest but still kept moving forward.

“Joel,” he said as he shifted in the saddle, looking at “Gale” now—Abby—like he already knew everything he needed to. “Nice to meet ya, Gale.”

Abby faltered. Her body stilled, her mouth barely parting, the weight of that name crashing down on her like snow off a rooftop. “Joel?” she echoed. Not quite a question. Not quite an answer either. Just disbelief. Recognition twisting through the air.

You looked to her, voice softening instinctively—an old habit, the one you always reserved for when she looked like that. Like she was trying to do the math on a war she hadn’t signed up for.

“Mm. Ride with him.”

Abby stared at you like you’d just suggested she jump out a window. Her brows knit tight, jaw twitching, her eyes flickering between you and Joel like she was trying to see if you were joking—or just didn’t know. That look wasn’t just hesitation. It was exasperation. Shock. Maybe even betrayal. Like she was standing face to face with a story she’d buried and you were handing it a saddle.

You tilted your head, confused, the storm outside nothing compared to the tension that had suddenly rooted her feet to the barn floor. You were about to ask, what the hell is wrong—

And then the upstairs door exploded inward with a deafening crash, splinters and snow raining down. The shrieking that followed was inhuman—the sound of hunger without restraint. Echoing, guttural, close.

You didn’t have time to think. Didn’t have time to argue.

Without a word, you slapped your hand hard against the flank of Maple, the sound cracking through the barn. The horse bolted instantly—Joel cursing under his breath as he gripped the reins, catching Abby’s arm just as she jolted in shock.

And then they were gone. Racing into the whiteout, hooves pounding against the frozen earth.You spun, already reaching for Birdie’s reins, heart thundering in your chest—not from the horde behind you, but from the unanswered question hanging in the air like a blade: Why the hell did she look at him like that?

(Anyway....comments and what not mean sooooo so so so much! toodles!)

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