#I’m in the middle of cleaning my apartment and you can see it’s going really well | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lacroixqueen · 2 months

Text

knee deep in the passenger seat of the honda odyssey (18+, deadpool x reader)

Summary: you and wade are on a ~secret undercover mission~ in a honda odyssey and smut ensues obviously

Pairing: annoying deadpool x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Tags/Warnings: car smut, dubcon, noncon, rough, stakeout

Fun Fact: first car I learned to drive in was a honda odyssey

You were stationed just on the outskirts of a busy beach boardwalk on a hot summer day. For some godforsaken reason, your boss decided to pair you up with none other than Wade himself on a stakeout mission. Your target was supposed to be the leader of a major corporate crime ring out on vacation with his family. The only description was that he was 5’6, looked like an average father, and was wearing a Hawaiian print shirt.

That being said, you were fully prepared for being here all fucking day.

Wade also brought up the brilliant idea of renting out a blue Honda Odyssey so that it will “look more believable” and “help us blend in” with the “American middle class”.

Also, this entire mission, he has been unable to keep his eyes or hands off of you. It was annoying, really. He was so goddamn needy.

You were perched on the backseat, elbows placed on top of the armrest so you could peer out the window with your binoculars.

Deadpool was laying on his side on the car floor, happily munching on a bag of snacks he stole from the convenience store earlier.

“If you are going to be here, can you at least help keep watch,” you said, unphased as he continued to crunch loudly on the concerningly neon yellow chips.

“And miss out on this view? No thank you!” he replied, wit as sharp as ever. He giggled pervertedly to himself as he admired how the bright yellow sundress you had on accentuated the curve of your waist and the arch of your back. And how the sunlight poured through the window just right so he could see the contour of your hips and thighs perfectly. He liked the way it glinted off your long hair that cascaded over your neck and shoulders like water. He could watch you forever like this. You were like a Renaissance painting to him.

“You know, I don’t understand why you even agreed to come in the first place,” you mused to yourself. “Like, are you really that bored? Don’t you have anything better to do besides pestering me.”

“And miss out on an opportunity to spend the entire day with Y/N?” he chuckled. “You underestimate my priorities. Besides, being an absolute menace to you and people in general is one of my life’s greatest joys! It’s like snorting cocaine off a drag queen’s ass for the first time in a gay bar. You just can’t get enough of it. Only.. it’s better. And more sustainable!”

“You are unbelievable,” you scoffed. “Also, I highly doubt you are cool enough to do that.”

“You don’t know everything about my life,” he bantered back. “Besides, when was the last time you ever went out?”

“I go out!”

“No you don’t.”

“Whatever.”

“Or.. I have an even better idea. I can take you out,” he suggested, embellishing his request by blowing you a kiss and breaking out the jazz hands.

“In your wildest dreams, Wade,” you muttered, sitting down on the back seat and cleaning the lenses of your binoculars.

He saw this as a challenge to move closer to you, kneeling at your feet like he was your lap dog. “Aw come on Y/N, don’t be like this,” he begged, placing his gloved hands on top of your knees, gently massaging the sides of your legs with his thumbs. “I know you like it when I give you attention.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. “Don’t flatter yourself, Wade. I’m just here for the job. Nothing more, nothing less. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to-”

“Oh, but you are not excused,” Wade cooed, softly prying your legs open so you were beginning to spread apart, much to your dismay. “You see, wearing a sundress on a hot summer day, and on a beach boardwalk nonetheless, is easily the sluttiest thing someone can do.”

“You aren’t exactly the one to slutshame me,” you snapped back. “Aren’t you the one sleeping with a different person every night and then forgetting their name the next morning?”

“That’s not true, I’m a virgin!” Deadpool protested as he dipped his head underneath the hem of your skirt. “I’ve never given myself to anyone before.”

“If you’re going to lie, at least make it convincing,” you said. “H-hey what are you even doing down there?”

You could feel his leather-covered fingers slyly dancing over the fabric of your panties.

“Oooh, I like this one a lot!” he beamed, tugging at the lacy waistband of your underwear. “Yellow stripes! And those cute little bows too. Y/N, you’ve really outdone yourself this time. Where did you even get something like this? Victoria’s Secret? No, too bougie. Target? Oh, I know I know. Shein.”

“Can you please stop?!” you exclaimed, trying to push him away, but he was holding onto your thighs with an iron grip. “We are working right now and in public for God’s sake. I always knew you were indecent but this is genuinely taking it to another level.”

He narrowed his eyes. “So it is Shein.”

You decided to ignore the accusation.

“Relax, Y/N,” he whispered, pressing his index finger onto the outline of your clit and rubbing over it in teasingly aching circles. “No one can see us. We are parked far enough away. Also, who would even suspect anyone is getting laid in a Honda Odyssey? And if they do, I’ll just tell them I was doing your annual pap smear out of the goodness of my heart. Or better yet, just let them watch! I mean, it’s a boardwalk for crying out loud. People are here to be entertained!”

“You are ridiculous,” you sighed, ultimately giving him the upper hand without even realizing it. You leaned back into the headrest, trying not to overthink even though your mind was beginning to race.

You felt him pry your panties to the side, and squeeze onto the sides of your labia between his index and middle finger. The smooth sensation of his leather glove running over you was enough to elicit a soft cry from your lips. This only encouraged him more.

You whined as he slowly spread your labia apart with his two fingers, causing you to stretch and twitch. You could feel yourself losing, giving in to him. It was a part of yourself that you were not necessarily proud of, but knew would eventually fold to his antics.

“Why are you so tight..” he mused to himself, retracting and then spreading his fingers, over and over again to entice you. “Like this has got to be a world record. I doubt I could even fit a needle in there.”

“Wade!” you cried. “If you’re going to go through with this, can you at the very least shut the fuck up for just once in your life?”

“Aww, she’s being so mean,” he cooed, ignoring you altogether. “Wouldn’t you agree? She’s being such a bad girl.”

“Yes, she’s being just awful!” he said in a high-pitched voice, contorting your pussy as if to pretend it was talking back. “You should really teach her a lesson for acting this way.”

“Ugh, thank you so much for always having my back,” he replied. “See? Even she agrees that you are being unreasonable!”

You were beside yourself at this point, forfeiting the battle and just gazing fondly out the window, allowing the sun to shine over your face.

He poked his head out from underneath your dress just in time to catch this moment.

“You know, you really are very pretty Y/N,” he commented. “Like, as in, I could absolutely see you on the cover of a magazine or a movie poster. Something classy. But not too much where it feels overdone, like those car commercials where the models are spraying themselves with a water hose. Just. Demure, you know?”

“Just shut the fuck up and eat me out already,” you replied, visibly annoyed at this point.

Wade obediently dove back under your skirt, lifting up the bottom of his mask and blowing hot air gently onto your clit. He planted a soft kiss over the top of it, ensuring that both of his lips fully engulfed your most sensitive part. He smirked to himself when he noticed your legs instinctively resting themselves over his shoulders.

You sighed as you felt his tongue flicker mischievously over your warm petals, his thumbs rubbing the divots of your inner thighs like they knew exactly what they were doing. He kissed every part of you so carefully and thoughtfully, as if he wanted to make sure you felt taken care of. His gentleness pleasantly surprised you, as you were unsure he was even capable of being so delicate.

You felt one of the straps of your sundress slowly beginning to slide off, as you lightly placed your hand on top of his head, encouraging him to go even harder. You tossed your head back when he pierced your hole with his hot tongue, softly saying his name over and over again in affirmation.

He liked to tease you, occasionally slowing down for an extended period of time, only for you to say “Keep going! Why did you stop?” He particularly enjoyed watching you blush and become so frazzled you couldn’t even form a proper sentence while he went down on you. But he liked seeing you get exasperated and worked up when he purposefully paused even more. He loved to elicit every type of emotion from you with his tongue. It made him feel like he had power over you.

Next thing you know, he had you pushed up against the car seat, with your dress rolled up to your waist, pounding into you for what felt like hours. He liked to use the seatbelt to wrap around your neck, choking you enough so you could barely catch your breath.

“W-Wade,” you stammered, wet pussy dripping all over the Honda Odyssey as he continued to ram relentlessly into you. From an outsider’s perspective, the vehicle was shaking very suspiciously. “We should.. probably.. get back to the mission..”

“And miss out on the big finale?” he asked, his hand gripping onto the curve of your waist. “Now why exactly would I do that?”

“B-because i-if we don’t, I.. we, the target..” you sighed, unable to string together a coherent thought because he was so damn rough you could hardly think.

You yelped as he smacked your ass with enough rigor to shake the backseat.

“Something that always bothered me about you, Y/N, is that you are always so worried about the stupid shit,” he muttered, sliding his hand over your backside to prepare to spank you one more time. “You never.” Slap. “Fucking.” Smack. “Listen.”

“So when I tell you that you need to relax..” he continued, one of his hands reaching over and gripping the back of your neck. “You are going to relax. Okay?”

“Y-yes sir,” you stammered, gripping onto the shoulder rest of the back seat for dear life, as he began to increase his speed and intensity again.

“That’s a good girl,” he said, smiling to himself. “Isn’t that right?” He tilted his head to the side as if to strike up a casual conversation with your pussy. “She’s being such a good girl, huh?”

He proceeded to mimic choking and sputtering noises.

“That’s okay, I know you have your mouth full,” he responded, trying not to laugh too hard at his own joke.

As he was about to push in even deeper, the walkie talkie in the front seat suddenly went off.

“Hey, is anyone even there?” the voice called out. “We’ve been paging you for hours. I’ve got eyes on the target right now. Six o’ clock. Don’t fuck this up. Over.”

You both froze mid-motion, looking towards the front of the car and then once back at each other. Without needing to exchange a word, you both sprung back into action. Wade tossed you your panties and you quickly pushed your dress straps back on over your shoulders. You managed to crawl your way over to the front, since your legs were hardly functioning at this point. Sluggishly, you picked up the walkie talkie and brought it up to your mouth.

“Heard,” you said wearily.

534 notes · View notes

sadesluvr · 10 months

Text

Three Simple Wishes - William Afton x Reader

It’s Vanessa’s birthday, but her father William ends up getting the best present.

A/N: Pure filth, yet again. This has gone through a BILLION iterations, but I’ve finally done it…I’m off to horny jail. Minors DNI!

Word count: 3.5K

Tags: SMUT / Dom + Sub dynamics / Dub-con / Age gaps (Reader is in her 20’s) / Infidelity / Costume sex / Perv! William / Oral sex, male and female receiving / Sex toys (Vibrator) / Multiple orgasms / Unprotected sex / Creampies / LOTS of use of the term 'Princess' / William is just NASTY, ok? And a bad father but we knew that

Being a Rent-A-Princess was far from glamorous, but sometimes it was rewarding. As for the other times? Having to endure sleazy men who hire you for bachelor parties, and cleaning yourself up from that one sickly child who puked on your dress.

You hoped today wouldn’t be one of those days.

It seemed promising enough to start, until you’d apparently shown up an hour early.

“I’m sorry,” a man named William said. You’d quickly learned he was the birthday girls’ father. “Sarah should’ve told you that they were going to the movies first. It’s funny how she can forget that, but not to nag about everything I do,” he said matter of factly, swigging his drink.

So he was the complaining husband. Nothing you hadn’t dealt with before.

“Well, I can wait…” you sighed, playing with the sparkly material of your dress. Mrs Afton had specifically requested that you be a ‘fairy princess’ - so you were dressed in a flowery tiara, crème coloured wings, and a corset-like dress with off the shoulder straps and a tulle skirt that stopped just by your knees.

“Want a drink?” William asked, breaking the tension. He seemed nice enough, albeit slightly dorky with his large glasses and oddly coloured tie. Apparently he’d come from work.

You politely shook your head, biting your lip as you directed your attention around the room, somewhat oblivious to the way the man was staring at you.

He’d heard of his wife’s “genius” idea to hire a princess, but for some reason the concept had never really manifested in his mind. He’d always seen them as slightly cringey with weird, overly heavy makeup, but you were a dream come true. Shy, polite - perfectly submissive. He wondered what was hidden under the layers of tulle and petticoat; if you’d squirm when he ran his hands up your thighs, spreading them apart so he could finger your pussy. He wanted to see you in action; if you’d stay in character whilst he pounded you into the counter, tears of ecstasy forming in your eyes as you’d squeal when you came around his cock.

His relationship with his wife had gotten stale a long time ago, and it was time that he got a thanks.

“You know, I’ll pay you for this extra hour,” he announced. “Can you do a little bit of your act? I wanna see if you’re good enough for my ‘Nessa,” he smiled, eyes wide and sparkling. Even though he was a grown man, it was actually rather cute. You loved seeing devoted fathers -

How could you say no?

You picked up your wand and stood in the middle of the kitchen before you curtseyed.

“Your wish is my command…” you said gently, peering up at him through your lashes. It was a classic move in the business, but it drove the man crazy. He smirked, finishing the last of his beer before he walked around the counter to join you, leaning against the counter.

It was then you realised how much bigger he was than you; tall, with a large chest and limbs. What struck you the most was his biceps and thighs - he was far more built than the typical man his age. For some reason you now felt nervous, but it wasn’t the usual pre-show jitters.

“…How may your Princess be of assistance?”

His Princess. You were all his for the next hour.

“I get three wishes, don’t I?” he hummed.

You pursed your lips and nodded, rolling the wand in your hands as your heart pounded against your chest.

“Well, for my first wish I’d like a dance with you,” William said, smirking at your startled reaction.

“I’m not a great dancer…” you said bashfully.

William stepped closer, reaching out a hand to adjust the material of your sleeves down so that they were level, noticing how your skin freckled with goosebumps upon his touch.

“Don’t worry, Princess. I’ll teach you,” he said softly, taking your hand in his and beginning to lead you into some kind of ballroom dance.

There was no music but he hummed a deep, methodic melody that came from inside his chest, almost like a satisfied purr of a lion. He was careful as he held you, as if you were a porcelain doll, making sure that his body was a safe distance from yours. Still, your bare legs and the tickly material of your dress occasionally rubbed against his own, earning an apologetic ‘sorry’ from you every time.

You were beyond perfect. Quite literally a fantasy come to life.

Once you were done, you broke away.

“Where did you learn to move like that?” you chuckled.

“I play a character too,” he said vaguely. “I’m very comfortable in my body. Besides, my wife always said I was good with my hands…” he finished, raising his brows slightly. You bit your lip and cocked your head, giggling at his entendre.

“What’s your second wish?”

“A kiss,” he said bluntly, and you glanced at the ground shyly. This was certainly beyond your means. Still, you were technically on the job, and you’d jokingly kissed people on the cheek before as part of it. This was the only gig you had that was getting you through college, and you couldn’t lose it.

You nodded, adjusting your tiara before you leaned in, standing on your toes as you planted a kiss on his cheek. His skin was slightly prickly because of his beard, contrasting against your soft, slightly sticky lips. Pulling away, you realised you’d left a smudge of your lip gloss on his cheek.

William hummed at the contact, unable to suppress his growing erection. You smelled heavenly, and your kiss was even better. So gentle, so precise…

“That was lovely, sweetheart, but I didn’t say on the cheek,”

Your eyes widened and you gasped.

“Mr Afton — I can’t…You’re married,”

“That doesn’t matter,” he said dismissively. “It’s all just make-believe. Besides, she’s not here…”

You remained frozen as he got closer to you, his hands again brushing the sleeves of your dress, this time beginning to slide them down your arms. You knew what he wanted.

“Mr Afton, please,” you begged, glancing around the kitchen. If this endeavour was going to happen, it shouldn’t be by a children’s birthday cake. “Not here…”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, his voice raspy. The cracks were beginning to show, and his eyes were filled with lust. “This way,”

He led you down the hall and up the stairs. Before you knew it, you were in the Afton’s bedroom, the door left slightly ajar.

“Get on the bed for me, Princess,” he grinned. “I want to look at you,”

William chuckled as you immediately obeyed, pulling yourself up towards the headboard, sat on your knees, staring up at him expectedly. You were quivering, and it only made his cock harder.

The tulle ran up your thighs, its poorly constructed bottom beginning to leave nothing to the imagination. Your chest was heaving, exposing the outline of your breasts. Even though you were scared, you were so ready for him.

“I don’t want to get caught…” you said softly, a lump bobbing in your throat as he slowly approached you, staring you down like a piece of meat. “I’ll be fired,”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Princess,” he smiled, beginning to loosen his belt as he kept staring at you. “But it works two ways, you know…”

You nodded.

“Is this your final wish?”

“No. I like to savour my treats…” he purred, pulling down his zipper. “Look up at me, doll,”

You obeyed, letting him take your face with his free hand, cupping your chin as he guided you to his cock. He was a little over average, and it was thick, with a prominent vein running along its side. He groaned and threw his head back as your warm mouth enveloped his cock, precum acting as lube and coating your lips like gloss. His grip remained firm on your face as he began to pump in and out of your mouth slowly, giving you time to adjust to the sensation. You hollowed your cheeks on his cock, guiding your head along the skin as you used your tongue to lick the sides, earning a groan from William.

“Has this pretty Princess sucked cock before?” he teased. “Of course you have…You’ve never had one like this before though, hm? Married, daddy dick,”

You managed a ‘Mmfh’ in response, unable to speak. The man chuckled and let go of your face, letting you do the work whilst he caressed your body, admiring your wings and stroking your neck, his hands making their way down to your chest. You wasted no time in using your hands to grip his base, holding him still as you began to eagerly suck him off, taking him as far as you could whilst your hands jerked him off at the base.

He huffed, and began to unbutton his shirt, leaving him in a vest, showing off his slightly hairy chest. He looked down at you, and you looked up at him, secretly satisfied at the way his eyes were half lidded with desire. It was his daughter's birthday, and his wife was 30 mins away, and yet here he was getting a blowjob from the hired entertainment. It was so sinful, and he’d barely even begun.

“Go deeper, Princess. For me…” he commanded, his voice breathy. You did, and his thick tip hit the back of your throat, making you gag. Pulling away, a trail of spit connected your mouth to his cock, and the man tutted, scooping it with his finger to run it over your swollen lips.

Had you disappointed him?

“I can do it —” you insisted, psyching yourself up to go again, but he stopped you, bending down to place a sloppy kiss on your lips.

“Lie back,” he said simply. “I have a surprise of my own,”

He opened a drawer, fumbling around through the contents before he pulled out a box — to a vibrator.

“It’s all clean,” he said, holding it up teasingly. “You got one of these, Princess? Or are you too much of a good girl for them – Maybe there’s a Prince around to do the job for you…?”

You shook your head. There was one guy named Mike who’d sold you the tires of your car once, but you’d never really pursued him.

“Hm,” William hummed gleefully. “ ‘Got this for Sarah as a fun little Valentine's gift ‘n she never used it. She’s a fucking prude, as you can tell. But you’re going to be my good little princess, aren’t you?”

“Yes Sir,” you replied, and he smirked as he opened the box, wasting no time in sorting it out.

In a moment he clicked it on, and the quiet house was filled with whirring which filled you with anticipation. It’d been a while since you’d had sex, let alone anything penetrating.

William leaned down, hands on either side of your body as he snaked his hands up the sides of your thighs, calluses brushing the material of your skirt away before he reached your panties.

“I’m gonna put this inside you, okay Princess? Be a good girl for me…”

You hadn’t realised it was a dual operator.

The rubbery material slid into your folds as he pushed your panties aside with his hands, allowing for the other nub to rest on your clit, leaving the base sticking out of your body. If that wasn’t torture enough, he covered the bottom with your panties, placing them back into position and leaving you with no escape.

The machine began to pulse and vibrate, leaving you as nothing but a squirming mess.

William chuckled at the sight below him, taking a moment to watch you squeal and call out for him as he lazily jerked his cock. This was far better than any porn. Or sex with his wife, for that matter.

You arched your back and clung onto the sheets as it continued to fuck you, the outside handle massaging your clit in circles, sending shockwaves through your body. You’d never been fucked like this, and it was even more sinful knowing it came from a married man.

“Please Sir…” you begged, eyes watery as you stared at him, arms outstretched. “I need —“

“Does the Princess need her King? He’s coming, doll,” he cooed, desire laced in his throaty chuckle. He walked over to you and took your hand, but assumed his position back at your mouth, taking a moment to run his heavy shaft over your wanting lips. You took him in your mouth like a good girl, making sure you teased his balls with your tongue.

He groaned, legs shaking as he ran his fingers to the top of your dress, roughly pulling it down to just below your breasts and began to fondle them with his large hands. He squeezed and tugged on your nipples, bringing you to a point of complete overstimulation as the vibrator continued its motions within you. The room was filled with sounds of wetness from both your mouth and cunt, and judging by the way you were beginning to desperately paw on William’s thighs he could tell you were close.

“Are you gonna cum, doll? You gonna cum all over my wife’s vibrator?”

You whined an ‘uh-huh’ as you nodded your head, and William grinned down at you, pulling himself from your mouth.

“Good,” he hummed. “Open your legs nice and wide for me Princess. I want to watch you,”

You did so and he stood over you, inspecting you as if he were a doctor. You were beginning to see white, and you barely noticed that the man had dropped to his knees, face-to-face with your aching pussy. In a second, he dragged you towards him and buried his face between your legs, underneath all the layers of tulle and petticoat. He swiftly removed the vibrator and replaced it with his tongue and lithe fingers, flicking at your bud and pumping in and out of you, your juices beginning to coat his digits.

It was heaven when you came. You were so overwhelmed that you’d actually locked your legs around him; allowing him to receive all of your fluids across his face and fingers. He lapped you up like he was starving, his hands holding a steady grip on your thighs and waist, making it clear that you belonged to him.

As you rode off your high, you began to feel sleepy. William emerged from under your dress, looking rather proud of himself as he wiped a droplet of your juices from his beard. You mustered the strength to prop yourself up, and as you did he pulled you into a sloppy kiss by your neck, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth.

“Dirty girl,” he murmured. “You’re driving me crazy, you know that?”

You bit your lip as you pulled away, watching the man intently as he dropped his pants and boxers, leaving him completely nude.

“Keep your clothes on for me, doll,” he smiled sinisterly. “You look so pretty in that dress. I promise I won’t ruin it…”

Shifting so that you were amongst the pillows, you instinctively hiked up your skirt, watching as William climbed over you. Even though you were fully clothed, you felt completely naked under his gaze, and the severity of the situation finally sunk in on you.

Here you were, the image of innocence and grace, draped across the marital bed of the parents of the child you were supposed to entertain - on her birthday no less - whilst the husband straddled you, ready to fuck you within an inch of your life.

Sarah, Vanessa and the other children could come home any minute.

“William…” you whispered, cupping his cheek in your hand. “I-I’m scared…”

He grinned. He hoped you were scared of what he was going to do to you, and the idea of being caught by his wife.

“Shh,” he hummed. “I’ve got you,”

He lifted your legs to either side of him so that your lower back was elevated, and your thighs rested on his own as he lined up with your entrance. He took a moment to tease your slit, rubbing his sticky head along your wet folds, still sensitive from your orgasm.

He pushed into you with little warning and your back arched, relishing in the bittersweet feeling of being stretched open. You thought he was going to begin moving, but he continued to push into you, making sure that the ring of juices you’d left on his cock was entirely covered. He wanted you to take him whole.

“Fuck, Princess,” he groaned, voice rumbling from the inside of his chest. “You’re so tight…I haven’t had a pussy like this in ages…”

“Will…” you stammered, shutting your eyes as you felt him bottom out within you, balls resting on your skin. “Oh my God…”

“Such a perfect little Princess,” he said, relishing in the sight of your skin-on-skin. Holding your thighs apart, he pulled back slowly before beginning to fuck into you, the contact making obscene sticky sounds. You had no choice but to grip the bed sheets as he drew long, agonising strokes into you, savouring the moment. Something about it was strangely intimate.

Once William found his rhythm he briefly let go of your thighs to grope your tits through the material before pulling it down and manhandling them himself. They moved with every thrust as your head lolled, mouth open and whining as he fucked you.

William was a man of many feats, but he’d never believed he'd be able to have this. He wanted you to be his naughty little elf for Christmas, his Cupid for Valentines, and his present for his birthday. Just you, bound by ribbon with a bow on your head would be good enough.

“You like this, hm? Ever fucked another dad like me? They must love having you around,” he snarled, and your pussy clenched at the image.

“N-Noo…” you whispered, squealing as William abruptly slapped your cunt..

“No?” he repeated. “Hm, of course not. You’re a good girl, aren’t you? A true Princess…”

You nodded, leaning up as William leant down to meet your lips in another sloppy kiss, giving him the ammunition to drill his cock into you further, your legs now by his shoulders.

God, this was the best fuck you’d ever had.

He steadied himself on either side of you, and you could feel his hot, heavy breaths from his nose and mouth as he continued to fuck you, eye contact unwavering.

As his thrusts became sloppier, you felt your stomach knot up, signalling yet another orgasm.

“William…I’m - I’m close…”

“Again, baby?” he hummed. “And here I was thinking I’d get to fuck your ass…Hm, there’s always a next time…”

You hardly acknowledged the implication.

“Y-You gotta — “

“Pull out?” he teased, withdrawing his hips, legs shaking as his nerves tingled and he entered you for the final time. “Oh no, Princess, I can’t do that! I could stain your pretty dress or ruin your makeup…”

He was so considerate.

You nodded, locking your arms around his neck as the weight of his body forced you into the mattress. You squeezed your eyes shut as you came, toes curling as your walls clamped down on his cock, making him feel bigger than before (if that were even possible). It wasn’t long before he came, grunting and whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he filled your pussy with his hot cum. He held you there for what felt like forever, making sure every drop wasn’t wasted, nor spilled onto the bed sheets.

“Fuck!” he bellowed, words broken between pants as he began to pull out, watching as the creamy fluids glistened in the natural light, even trickling down to his balls. You looked absolutely spent, and if you didn’t have a job to do he would’ve let you lie there.

Managing to pull yourself up, it was mostly silent until you heard a car enter the driveway, causing you to spring into motion.

“William, we’re home!”

“Shit…” you murmured, looking around. How would it look if you both came down the stairs?

“Here, take this,” William said nonchalantly, handing you a pink envelope. “Vanessa’s room is at the end of the hall. I trust you know how to improvise...”

You nodded, brushing your skirt into place as you hastily began to leave. William stopped you, raising a hand as if to ‘halt’, and tenderly fixed your tiara, a sly smirk wiped across his face as he did. As he let go, his hands stroked your cheek and his thumb ran over your lips. You took the digit into your mouth briefly before planting a gentle kiss onto the tip, smiling back up at him innocently.

Keys were in the door.

“My final wish…” he uttered, “…Is that you come and work for me. We could really use an Easter Bunny…”

@fandomwritingbit @ahsxual

#florence writes!!#my magnum opus #for now #william afton smut #william afton x reader smut #william afton x reader #steve raglan smut #steve raglan x reader #fnaf smut

2K notes · View notes

stevehours · 3 months

Text

drinking game

steve harrington x fem!reader

18+ minors dni, drinking, smut

wc: 4.4k

As far as first dates go, this is the lamest one you’ve been on. Which you’d somewhat anticipated when you agreed to it. Steve Harrington is a couple years younger than you. The kid’s barely twenty. But he is incredibly handsome and well, it’s been awhile for you. Steve’s wooing skills haven’t graduated high school, like he has. He insists on picking you up, gets to show off the car his daddy bought him. It is nice. Must’ve cost a fortune when he was gifted it on his sixteenth birthday. The damn thing has a telephone in it. Power seats and windows. And the seats heat up, he tells you. Though in the middle of August, it’s not really necessary. It has great speakers, proven by the cheesy, 70’s baby making music he’s blasting from them. You can’t imagine Steve actually listens to this, but that it’s an attempt to get you in the mood.

He brings you to a diner for dinner where he tries to share a milkshake with you and then it’s a trip to the drive-in movies. It’s ripped out of the 50’s. Especially the part where he tries to make out with you, which okay, yes you indulge in until he grabs a handful of your breast.

“Alright, Romeo,” you laugh, pushing him back, “Cool it down a little.”

“Sorry,” he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and settles back into the driver's seat. His cheeks are ruddy, either with embarrassment or arousal, you aren’t sure.

“It’s fine—“ you tell him and adjust your blouse, “It’s kind of cute.”

“You’re really pretty,” he blurts out, smiling and it does make you giggle. But you feel a little childish right after, so you shove his head and tell him to keep watching the movie.

Must be a win for Steve because that saccharine smile doesn’t leave his face.

After the movie, he starts driving but not in the direction of your apartment. He glances at you, “I’m having a really good time. Would you be up for maybe coming back to my place? For a drink or something?”

“Your place?” you snort, crossing your arms but you’re already convinced.

Steve blushes again, “Well, I live there. My parents are like, barely home. Business trips and stuff.”

“Alright, Harrington,” you shrug, “It’s early. Let’s do it.”

—

“It’s called Flip, Sip or Strip,” he says, holding up a quarter and looking at you under hooded eyes.

You cackle, fingers delicately holding the crystal wine glass that’s definitely worth more than anything you own. You didn’t know Steve’s parents were so loaded, though the car should’ve been the indicator. The pair of you are sitting in the living room of the Harrington home. It’s so intricately designed, the entire house following the same decorative theme. And it’s remarkably clean for a place a young man lives alone 75% of the time. You wonder if there’s a housekeeper that comes and cleans up after Steve.

“You want to play a drinking game?” you scoff, crossing your legs and you don’t miss the way Steve’s eyes follow the movement.

“You’ve heard of it, then?”

“Not since freshman year of college but, sure, let’s play,” you placate him, leaning back in the chaise lounge. In the back of your mind you’re wondering why expensive furniture is so uncomfortable. Steve scrambles from the equally looking stiff couch, opening what you can assume is his parents liquor cabinet. Under the record player that plays that same cheesy, romantic 70’s R&B he was blasting in the BMW.

He sets two glasses and a bottle of tequila on the coffee table and then pats the cushion next to him on the couch.

You raise an eyebrow, “Wouldn’t it be better to stay here? So you can actually see me?”

“Good point,” he grins excitedly and then says, “You first. Call it.”

“Heads,” you slur in a sultry voice, smirking at the way he looks back at you all slack-jawed.

Then Steve flips the coin in the air, catches it in his palm and slaps it on his forearm. He uncovers it and gets this real mischievous smile on his face. He doesn’t even have to announce it, you know the coin is tails up. You laugh and lean forward to grab the bottle of tequila, pouring yourself a small shot and downing it with ease. Then you extend your palm out and Steve hands you the coin. You watch him expectantly until he says, “Tails.”

You flip it, catching it in your hand and flipping it onto your arm. You giggle as you uncover it, wiggling your eyebrows at Steve when you tell him, “Heads.”

He shucks off his coat, tossing it behind him and making grabby hands for the quarter. You roll your eyes as you drop it into his hand and tell him, “Heads.”

Steve flips the coin and then his face scrunches up in disdain, “Heads.”

You snatch the coin from his hand as you cackle triumphantly. A few more rounds go on, you take off your heels with Steve’s eyes glued to your feet and he takes a shot. Then you’re challenged again to either take a drink or remove another bit of clothing. And you’re honestly feeling that shot of tequila so you’d rather not take another so quick. Hence, your tights come off. Steve watches the motion and chews on his bottom lip.

“You a virgin, Harrington?” you ask, eyebrows knitting together.

He laughs, almost offended as he shakes his head, “Far from it. You’re just too good to look at. Anyone tell you that you could be a model?”

“Flattery will get you almost anywhere. Heads or tails, big boy?” you smooth your thumb against the warm quarter.

He guesses correctly, but you don’t on your turn. And so off comes your blouse. Steve spreads his legs across from you, hands smoothing down his jeans as he grins salaciously at you. He incorrectly guesses tails and then pulls off his polo, exposing this jungle of chest hair you’re shocked by. A smug smirk spreads across his lips as your mouth hangs open. And he’s got all these moles decorating his gorgeous skin like constellations. He combs his own fingers through his chest hair and leans back on the couch, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. Still has his Nikes on.

You scowl as you throw the quarter at him, “Heads.”

And you lose, but you opt for another shot as you feel far more exposed than Harrington is.

A few more rounds leads to you both pleasantly buzzed and in your underwear.

“This game is stupid,” you decide when you incorrectly guess again.

Steve giggles and tosses the coin on the coffee table, “That’s okay. I’d rather take those off myself anyways.”

You hate that it works, makes your thighs warm up with dull arousal as you take your eyes over Steve’s body. He’s lean, soft but very faintly muscular. And those moles go all over him. All the way down to his feet. You heave a sigh and stand from the chaise lounge, stepping in between Steve’s legs and grabbing a hole of his square jaw. He blinks up at you, mouth ajar with fucking stars in those round, brown eyes.

“You have a really stupid, cute face,” you tell him, pushing his thick hair off his forehead.

“Uh, thanks?” he replies and you straddle his lap, pushing both hands into the waves of chestnut hair. You look at it, eyes narrowing.

“Do you have highlights?” you ask.

“Naturally— from the sun and—“ he starts but you interrupt him.

“Bullshit,” you grab onto his jaw again, “You get highlights in your hair.”

“No, I don’t,” he narrows his eyes and you completely seat yourself on his lap, feeling his erection press against your ass. You grind down on it and he lets out a gargled moan, his eyelids fluttering shut.

“You do,” you tell him and then get your lips on his jaw, feeling the subtle stubble against your face. You lick against his jawline, pushing your fingers in his hair and pulling his head back to give you more room. You begin kissing down his neck and his hands grab onto your hips, guiding you up and down against his strained, hard cock. The whole hair argument is completely forgotten by Steve, his hips jerk weakly as he leans his head back and lets out these pretty, soft sounds. The kind of sounds that make your stomach fill with excited, horny butterflies.

You mark up his neck, the skin purpling from your pleasurable abuse. Suck and bite until bruises form and Steve’s whimpering underneath you. You relent on his neck, pulling his head back to look at you as you writhe against him. His hands skate up your sides and back down, landing on your ass and pushing you harder against his erection. And you get a real good look at his pretty face. His eyes tilt down slightly at the ends and they’re so full of desire. Wonderfully expressive and beautiful. You look up at his brows, smiling to yourself as you notice they’re manicured, just ever so slightly. This man takes care of himself. More than most. His complexion is remarkably smooth. You drag your fingertip down the bridge of his nose to the tip, smiling at the sharpness of it. Then you settle your eyes on his lips as they quirk up into a smile, he likes how you’re looking at him. Admiring him. His lips are plump, pink from the way he’s been biting at them all night.

“You’re pretty,” you whisper, dragging your thumb across his bottom lip and he kisses the pad of it. Sending your stomach ablaze as you roll down on him a little firmer.

“You’re prettier,” he replies, voice husky.

“How come you don’t have a girlfriend?” you ask, tangling your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I haven’t asked you, yet,” he tells you, smirking as he smooths his hand up your back to your bra. Unclasps it with two fingers, impressing a gasp from you and he smiles, straight and white teeth on display.

You help pull the straps from your arms and discard the lacy fabric aside, wrapping your arms around his neck again and then leaning down to capture his lips in a kiss. You don’t think too much about what he’d just said, this is fun and you’ve just met. This is the first date, you barely know each other. But while this started out as a lame date, you feel uncharacteristically smitten at this point.

Steve kisses like he needs it. Hungry. Like his oxygen supply comes from your lungs and he’s been suffocating all night. Makes you breathless and dizzy. You whimper into each desperate exchange, sucking on his tongue whenever he slips it past your lips. His arms wrap around your middle, pulling you completely flush against him. Your hands get tangled in his hair yet again, a little obsessed with the way it feels between your fingers. Your noses keep bumping into each other and his pokes your eye a handful of times but it doesn’t slow either of you down.

You lift yourself up and Steve offers a whine until he sees you’re moving to take off your underwear, then he’s helping get them off and you’re situating yourself between his legs on the floor. Hooking your fingers into the waistband of his briefs and peeling them down his thighs, gasping when his impressive length pops out and slaps against his abdomen. You give yourself a beat to look at it as Steve spreads his legs and writhes against the couch. Chewing on your bottom lip, you wrap your hands around the base of him. Your fingers don’t even meet when they’re circled around his girth.

“Christ,” you mutter and he laughs, a soft and almost insecure sound.

“I- I know, it’s kind of—“

“Huge?”

“Scary?” he asks, tilting his head as he gazes down at you.

It’s your turn to laugh, wondering how many girls have told him that. You’re not scared, no, the opposite.

“Not scary,” you tell him, “I’m thoroughly impressed.”

“Yeah? I’ve… I’ve been told it’s too—“ he swallows and his eyes squeeze shut as you stroke his length firmly.

“Too big?” you offer and work your hand up and down his gargantuan cock slowly, “I like a challenge, Stevie.”

He laughs again, but it’s a breathless laugh. He opens his eyes again and watches as you lick a broad stripe up the underside of his cock. His eyebrows furrow, lips parting with a sweet whine. You wrap your lips around the head of him, tasting the salty precum leaking from his slit. As you grip onto the base of him and attempt to take him into your mouth, you can feel just how hard he is. You lock your eyes on his, slowly sinking down on his cock. Drool slips past your lips and down the rest of his length, your hand slides up and smears the natural lube over him. You continue like that, fingers moving up and down where you can’t fit him in your mouth. You make a conscious effort to breathe out of your nose and use your tongue while you bob up and down on his cock.

Steve watches intently, thighs shaking as he tries his hardest not to buck his hips up. Just the size of him has spit pooling in your mouth and seeping down his length all the way to his heavy balls. His face looks extra pretty right now. Dazed and drunk on the pleasure, perhaps some of the tequila too.

His hands tangle into your hair, holding it out of the way as you continue your way up and down his cock.

“That’s it,” he breathes out, chest heaving as he praises you, “Doing so good for me.”

Those words hit you, make you moan on his length and wiggle your hips. You try to take him as deep as you can before pulling off, working your fist over his cock as you catch your breath. Once he’s not in your mouth, he bucks his hips and moans out shakily.

“Oh, fuck…” he seethes, his toes curling into the carpet.

You move your mouth to his balls then, still working his shaft in your hand and you start licking at his sack. Keeping your eyes trained on his gorgeous face. Steve blinks rapidly, rolling his hips up and spewing the prettiest little moans. And you’re kind of obsessed with his face at this moment, the absolute pleasure painted on it.

“So fucking pretty,” you tell him because you really can’t help yourself and Steve seems to like it, tugging on your hair and whining.

“C’mere… wanna kiss you,” he babbles out and you stand on shaky legs before crawling back into his lap and kissing him sloppily. He wraps his arms around your middle and thrusts his hips up, the side of his cock gliding through your folds and punching a surprised moan from you, which he swallows. Then his hands move down and firmly plant on your asscheeks. At first you assumed Steve was close to coming but the way he’s grinding you down on his cock tells you otherwise— he just really wanted to kiss you.

Then Steve pulls away, “Can I taste you? Please?”

You’re not inclined to say no to that, nodding your head emphatically and standing up from his lap again. You make a move to lay down on the couch, but Steve’s laying down first and grabbing at you.

“Sit on my face, please,” he whines and you flush, but do as he asks. Maneuvering your leg over his shoulders, you hover and look down at him. As if to ask if he’s sure. Which he answers by pulling you down on him, his warm and wet mouth meeting your dripping cunt. You moan out, hands grabbing onto the armrest to keep yourself upright as Steve devours your aching pussy. He’s moaning into you, seemingly loving the taste as he sucks and licks at your folds. Once you’re comfortable and downright desperate, you begin riding Steve’s gorgeous face. His hands are planted firm on your ass, guiding you through it.

“I’ve been dying to taste you all night,” he manages to tell you, pulling you off of him just the smallest inch before he’s dragging your pussy back down against his eager mouth.

“Fuck, baby,” you mutter out, “You’re so good at that…”

He really is, uses his whole face to do it. Nose rubbing against your clit, tongue teasing your hole while you drip all over his chin. You try to look down at him, lock eyes with his dazed, pussy-drunk ones but the pleasure gets overwhelming and your eyes start to flutter shut as you grind down on his expert tongue and really use his nose to get off. Your stomach fills with fire, your release gaining in ok you quickly. And once Steve’s tongue penetrates you, you’re a goner. Crying out his name in desperate pleas as you ride your orgasm out. You’re shaking when you pull off of him abruptly, worried that you’re about to suffocate him. And as you stand, looking down at him, you can’t help but giggle at the look on his face. Steve looks like he just came. Blinking slowly, a pleased smile plastered on his pink lips.

He stands with you, laces your fingers and kisses you softly. You can taste yourself on his lips but you don’t mind, giggling into it.

“Can I take you to my bedroom?” he asks once he pulls away.

You nod, shyly and looking up at him with stars in your eyes. He guides you up the stairs, stopping along the way to steal kisses. You’re not sure the last time you felt so much romance tangled in with sex. He presses you to the wall next to his bedroom door, swoops his mouth down to capture yours in a disproportionate chaste kiss. Again, linking your fingers and holding them above your head as he connects his forehead to yours.

“Don’t laugh— okay?”

You giggle, gazing up at him curiously, “Sorry. I won’t.” It’s unclear exactly what Steve’s asking you not to laugh at, but once he opens his bedroom door, you get it. It’s the ugliest bedroom you’ve ever seen. Everything is drenched in plaid, the wallpaper, the curtains, the bedspread. All so offensive. You bite your lip to stifle the laugh, but it all dissolves when you turn to watch Steve close the door and get a glimpse at his cock which is very much still hard. Then his bedroom doesn’t seem so silly anymore. Your hand wraps around his length as you press him against the door, kissing him filthy all over again.

Steve whimpers from the touch, muffled against your tongue as he places his hand on your face and holds you while he kisses back.

“I need you,” he slurs into your mouth and you nod, kissing him before you walk towards his bed. You lay yourself on it, head on his pillows as you bring your hands up to fondle your own tits. Watching as Steve’s hand falls down to his cock, stroking himself slowly. He then climbs on top of you, kissing you tenderly before he’s reaching over to his nightstand but something tells you to stop him, so you do. Hand on his wrist.

“No… I,” you swallow, lust driving this decision completely, “I wanna feel you… just you.”

Steve inhales sharply, moves his hand to push his cock down for some relief as he says to you, “Fuck… are you sure?”

You wrap your arms around his neck as you nod slowly at him, spreading your legs for him. He drops his head down to kiss you, all slow and gentle. His hand slips between your bodies, grabbing his cock and teasing the head of it against your aching center. You gasp softly, hands tangled in his hair as your hips roll, causing the tip of his cock to catch on your dripping hole. Steve sinks in slowly, inch by inch. It’s quite the stretch, has your jaw dropping as you adjust. His cock is hot and thick, you can feel it pulsing as it drags against your walls. It’s so delicious and heady, your legs instinctively wrap around his waist and your hips roll up until he’s completely sheathed inside you. And Steve’s gentle, doesn’t jack hammer into you immediately like most men would. He stays still and lets you get used to the feeling, kissing you softly and tenderly between needy moans and gasps.

“Feel so full,” you confess in a whisper and that gets Steve thrusting into you, groaning lowly against your lips.

“Yeah?” he asks, “You’re so fucking wet and tight… squeezing my cock so good.”

“Oh, Steve,” you moan, tugging his hair while he slowly builds a steady and deep rhythm. His hand moves to grab your thigh, squeezing it while he grinds down into you. The tip of his cock prods against that spongy, sweet spot inside you. Punches a yelp out of you to which he looks down at you, panicked.

“You okay?” he asks, blinking rapidly.

You nod, scratching down his back as you plead, “Fuck, yes… right there, do it again.”

A smile spreads across his lips, pretty teeth showing as he thrusts into you again. And again. Your back arches with it, pressing your tits to his chest as your legs spread further on their own volition. You place your hand on his cheek, watching his stunning face as he sinks in and out of your pussy, the filthiest sounds echoing in the room. He licks his lips, brow furrowing as his thrusts get harder and faster. Each time, he rubs against that bundle of nerves deep inside you. Dragging the most pornographic sounds you’ve ever made from your throat. You’re not sure you could recover from this, suddenly really hoping he does ask you to be his girlfriend. The two of you have barely even started and it’s the best you’ve ever felt in your life. His cock filling you in a way that makes you want to cry, in a good way.

“Steeeeeve…” you moan out, low and uncontrollably. “Fuck… that’s so good. Just like that, baby… yes…”

His lips are on your ear now, lowly telling you, “Taking me so well… such a good girl…”

Your cunt clenches around him, little desperate and pleasure filled pants and moans pouring out of you. “Steve, Steve… oh, Steve!” you chant, scratching down his back a second time.

His hips still and he laughs, burying his face in your neck as he mumbles, “Fuck- fuck, don’t wanna cum yet.”

You grab his face and pull his lips to yours, unhooking your legs from his waist as you kiss him deeply. Tongues lazily curling together, panting into each other's open mouths. You give him a beat to come back down, then you’re flipping the pair of you. Get Steve on his back and you on top of him, without disconnecting where you two meet. You place your hands on his furry chest, feeling the jungle of hair you’ve been staring at since he took his shirt off that night. His hands grip onto your hips, gasping and panting as he stares up at you, awestruck look on his beautiful face.

“You’re so pretty,” you tell him again and he laughs, that wonderful breathless sound you’re starting to fall in love with. Which is dangerous but right now, you don’t care.

“I’ve got the prettiest girl on top of me… and she’s telling me I’m pretty,” he mumbles out, dazed smile on his face.

“You are,” you assure him just as you start to rock your hips, face confronting as you feel his cock prod at that sweet spot deep inside you again. Your eyes cross from it, eyebrows knitting together as you bite your lip and you begin riding him steadily. Slow and gentle at first but soon enough, you’re bouncing up and down on his cock.

“Fuck, that’s it, baby… just like that…” Steve babbles out, snaking his hand around and his thumb finds your clit easily. Works in quick, firm circles. Has you riding him even faster and harder as your climax threatens to rush over you. Building and building so quickly.

“Steve…. Steve?” you whimper.

Sweet, lopsided smile on his face when he asks, “Yeah, baby?”

“I’m gonna fucking cum,” you confess, scratching your nails against his chest as you grind down on his length.

Steve keeps up his ministrations on your clit, doesn’t switch anything up. But he heaves this happy, aroused laugh and tells you, “Cum for me, cum all over my cock. Use me.”

Your body tenses when it hits you, sending you over the edge and you collapse on top of him. Face buried in his neck as you spew cries and moans. He grabs your hips, holds you steady and plants his feet on the mattress. That’s when he lets loose, thrusts into you with everything he’s worth. Mouthing praise against your ear as he fucks you silly.

Your eyes roll back, his thrusts punching repetitive and loud moans from your lungs.

“Fuck— I’m gonna— fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he warns and squirms underneath you but you make no attempt to move.

“Fill me up, Steve,” you whisper against his ear, kissing under it and then telling him, “Wanna feel it. Cum inside me, baby.”

He lets out a gargled moan, arms wrapping around you firmly as he thrusts one last time and releases inside you, coating your walls with his spend. Your lips meet again, lazily and spent kisses as you both come down.

Steve strokes your hair, holds you close and kisses your cheek before he asks, “You wanna stay the night?”

“Yeah.. yeah, I do,” you reply, pushing his hair off his sweaty forehead. “As long as you make you breakfast.”

“I’ll make you anything you want,” he says with a smile before flipping you over and kissing you deeply.

And okay… maybe it wasn’t such a lame date.

#steve harrington x f!reader #steve harrington x female reader smut #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington

527 notes · View notes

jjunieworld · 9 months

Text

the great bake off! ༘ ˚· 🍞 𓂅

read part two here ⇢ spilt milk ⋆｡˚

pairing: choi soobin x gn!reader

genre: fluff, strangers to lovers, bakery au, baker!soobin and non-baker!reader, “competing”, slight banter, brief mention of blood, some sexual innuendos, soobin is super shy

synopsis: after getting fired from your job as a pizza delivery driver, you’re in desperate need to find a new job before you get kicked out of your apartment. that’s when you hear about the local bakery looking for employees. thinking, “why not? i’ve worked with dough before!”, you apply and actually get the job. that’s when you and the son of the bakery’s owner decide that it would be fun to compete to see who can make the most baked goods for a prize.

word count: 8.6k┊part two┊masterlist

a/n: i’m a little late, but thank you all so much for 100 followers! here’s a little treat (lmao) expressing my gratitude! finally joining everyone in making a baker!soobin fic lmao… i got carried away so this is pretty long. i don’t even think it counts as a oneshot anymore but i hope you enjoy :) shoutout to the lovely @jjunberry for the florist!sunoo agenda ❀

“and don’t come back!” yelled the manager of the job you just got fired from. you took your apron and hat off and threw them on the ground in front of the establishment. you scoffed loudly, noticing the passing stares of the people walking outside and the judging ones of the customers inside.

“wouldn’t fucking dream of it!” you yelled back. the manager stepped back out of the doorframe, eyes wide, lip curled, and brows scrunched ready to retort. you cut him off with a middle finger and turned, angrily walking away to where your car was.

you didn’t need that stupid pizza delivery job anyways. half the time you weren’t even delivering pizzas because of how shitty they tasted. which wasn’t a fault of you, but a fault of your manager, who was also the owner.

majority of the time he had you in the back doing his job, making the pizzas, while he sat in the break room watching alpha male videos on his phone.

you slammed your door shut and rubbed at your temples. you had a tension headache and you couldn’t think.

“fuck!” you yelled loudly. what are you going to do now? you need a job so you can pay the rent of your shitty overpriced apartment. and you just knew you weren’t getting your last paycheck from your ex-manager.

sighing, you pull out of the parking lot next to the pizza place and head back to your apartment. you desperately needed a shower and to start job hunting as soon as possible.

you push open the door of your apartment and take a look around, thankful that you cleaned before you left. it was small, but it was home.

after your shower, you got a call from your best friend.

“what a fucking asshole!” sunoo exclaimed. you propped your phone up on the roll of paper towels as you began making something to eat. “but now you can come work with me!”

your face scrunched up. “i’d rather get evicted. love you though!” sunoo was a florist. there wasn’t anything wrong with that, but you could barely tell a daisy apart from a daffodil. and the thought of being surrounded by a bunch of different flower smells gave you another headache.

sunoo rolled his eyes. “fine then!” on your phone screen he raised his hands up and took a step back from the camera. “be broke then! don’t come crying to me when you’re out on the streets in the pouring rain waiting on a miracle when i’m offering you one right now!” you laughed at him.

“whatever! working with you is my last option though.” you put a pot of water on the stove for ramen. you really didn’t feel like making something elaborate after the day you had. “help me, sunoo! start listing off available jobs!”

he raised his eyebrow at you, “what makes you think i know what jobs are available and what jobs aren’t? go on google!” you rolled your eyes at him. he chuckled at you. “i did hear that that bakery downtown was looking for new employees, though.”

you raised your eyebrows at him, an ‘i told you so!’ smile on your face. he just rolled his eyes at you. “are they? i’ll have to call them. that’s a job for tomorrow y/n, though. i am so fucking tired.”

“i’d be tired too if i acted like a menace everyday,” sunoo replied. you shot him a look. “i do not act like a menace!”

“this is your second job in like three months… who are you? trish from austin and ally?” you gasped, putting a hand to your chest in somewhat fake shock. at least trish got a new job easily. it took you forever to find that pizza place job, and even longer for you to actually start working. you very nearly actually almost did get evicted if sunoo hadn’t stepped in and helped you.

“goodbye! i love you!” you said and leaned on the counter towards the counter. sunoo gave the camera a kiss and you jumped away in mock disgust. “bye, i love you!”

you ended your call and sat down to eat the ramen you made. sighing, you shoveled the noodles into your mouth. you really hoped that you got hired at this bakery. you didn’t know what you were gonna do if you don’t.

the next day you were up bright and early in the morning ready to call the bakery. you scoured google to see what the number was and after a couple misdirects you finally found it. your hands shook slightly as you pressed the phone to your ear and listened to the rings.

“hello, nap of a star bakery! if you are calling for a custom pie, orders will be pushed until next week!” a deep voice said over the line. your eyebrows raised slightly in shock and you hesitated for a moment as you thought of your next words.

“hello! i was actually calling to ask if you were hiring,” you replied. there was slight shuffling on the phone. “hello! yes, we are! have you picked up an application from the bakery? i can also email you a pdf version of it if you choose.”

you thought for a moment. it couldn’t hurt to go down and actually check the place out before deciding to work there. you did not need another repeat of the arcade job again.

“that’s okay! i can come down to the bakery for it!” the voice gave you an, “okay, have a good day!” and you hung up the phone after repeating them. you got your things together and left your apartment.

it took you a good minute to find the bakery. sunoo even had to text you directions. you recalled that the bakery was new and local. it was tucked away in between two buildings on the corner of the street. you parked your car and stepped your way towards the door.

the bell above the door rang as you pushed it open and stepped inside. behind the counter, a very tall dark-haired guy stood covered in flour rolling dough in a bowl. his head snapped up at the sound and a friendly smile plastered on his face. he pulled the gloves off and sat them next to the bowl. then he came up to where the cash register and a monitor were.

“hello! how may i help you?” he asked, rolling up his falling sleeves.

you took a look around the establishment. it was actually very nice. behind him, a chalkboard of everything their selling was written in an array of different colors. different baked goods were on display under the counter where the guy stood. there was also a door behind him to the back. natural light filtered in from the big windows at the front of the shop, highlighting the light minty colored walls and hanging stars. wooden tables and chairs with quilted seat covers tied to them were scattered around the open space. the overhead lighting was subtle and not harsh like so many other bakeries were. all in all, the bakery was very cozy.

“hi,” you smiled, “i called here not too long ago. about the applications?” his face lit up in realization and his mouth formed an ‘o’ shape. he started to move around the counter.

“ah, yes! the applications! i can get you a pen if you want to fill it out here?” he asked as he grabbed the application from one of the tables near the door and turned to hand it to you. “assuming you brought your resume…” he then trailed off, a shy smile on his lips.

thankfully you did bring your resume. you took the application from him. “i did, actually, thank you!” he nodded slightly to himself and he walked back over to the counter and grabbed a pen from a cup next to the keyboard. he handed that to you as well. “here you go!”

you sat at one of the tables a little ways away from the counter. customers began filing in for orders as you filled the application out. all the motion was distracting you and you couldn’t help watching the dark-haired guy work.

he seemed to move fluidly from taking an order, pressing it all into the monitor, and either retrieving it from the back or display. you didn’t even realize he was also making more things while taking and completing orders until you saw him furiously trying to get the flour off himself when there were no customers around. you giggle lowly to yourself and finally finished filling the application out.

his back was turned to you as you walked up to the counter. he was still trying to get the flour off of him but was spreading it all over his clothes and apron instead. “uh, i finished the application,” you said softly. he jumped and quickly turned to you, an embarrassed smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

you stacked your resume with the application and handed it to him with the pen on top. he took it from you and sat it next to the keyboard.

you got the chance to get a look at his name tag attached to his brown and mint apron. the pretty signature with a shooting star next to it told you that his name was soobin. you got a good look at his face. he was quite pretty, even covered in flour.

he laid his hands flat on the counter and leaned towards you slightly. “okay, so your application will get registered and we should be with you within the week!” he told you, giving you another friendly smile. you returned it. “thank you!”

“have a good day!” you shot his words back to him and left the bakery, making your way to your car.

it was torture waiting for the email to know if you got the job or not. you were sitting in the chair behind the counter at chaconne, the flower shop that sunoo worked at, eyes glued to your phone as you kept refreshing your inbox.

“refreshing your inbox every five seconds isn’t going to make the email appear faster.” sunoo said as he arranged different flowers into a bouquet.

you sighed and slouched in the chair. you guess he was right. it’s only been a couple of days and it seemed like soobin was the only employee.

after sunoo wrapped the flowers and tied it off, he turned to you. today was a slow day in the shop, hence why you were behind the counter. not that sunoo’s boss minded, mrs. jeon loves you.

“so… anyone cute working at the bakery?” he asked, smirking. you looked up from your phone and chuckled. “there’s only one employee, at least i think. he was cute, in fact!” you replied. sunoo’s face lit up.

you tilted your head at him, you knew that look. that was his matchmaking look. “absolutely not,” you quickly said before he could open his mouth. “i need to keep this job if i do get it.” he brought his shoulders up.

“it’s gonna happen anyways. what else are the both of you to do in there together except get to know each other?” he brought his shoulders down and then leaned towards you, eyes wide. “what’s his personality like, tell me! he’s a baker right? duh, of course he is. i bet he’s a softie.” sunoo started rambling, mainly to himself.

you held your hands up. “woah, i met him for a total of like twenty minutes. i don’t have that information.” sunoo sighed and turned back around as customers entered.

you kept refreshing your phone, making small talk with sunoo as he made more bouquets. suddenly, you heard a ‘ping!’ sound and your eyes snapped to your phone to see the notification. “oh my god! it’s from the bakery!” you exclaimed. sunoo came over to you and leaned down next to you to see your phone. “well open it!”

you did just that and almost screamed from excitement had it not been for sunoo covering your mouth and looking around the shop at the lingering customers. “i’m not gonna get evicted!” you exclaimed and sunoo laughed as he rang up another customer.

it was your first day of working at nap of a star bakery and you were standing next to soobin and the owner of the bakery as your training started. it turns out that soobin was the son of the owner, and so far it was just the two of them at the shop. well, now the three of you.

“i’m so thankful you put in an application, y/n dear. it’s been difficult running the bakery with just my boy. your extra hands are very welcome!” mrs. choi told you, smiling warmly. you noticed the light blush across soobin’s cheeks as he rubbed his hand over his face. you smiled warmly at mrs. choi, “i’m very thankful you decided to hire me!”

she put you and soobin to work in the back room, starting on the goods, as she dealt with the customers up front. soobin began showing you how to make the dough for snickerdoodles. you stood side by side in your matching aprons and gloves.

“you want to make sure that you add enough flour so the consistency isn’t super sticky.” soobin said as he showed you the amount of flour to put into it. you let out a brief laugh.

“this isn’t my first time baking, i got this.” you gave him a confident smile. he raised his eyebrows.

“okay then… all you!” he took a step back from the bowl and you took one towards it.

you made snickerdoodles before. at least, you think you did. they were a pretty popular cookie to make, surely you’ve made them at least once in your life before. you cracked the eggs soobin had put out into the bowl. soobin had already added the butter, so it was up to you to figure out the rest of the ingredients.

thinking of what usually goes into cookies, you started reaching for different things. you eyeballed the amount you put in.

“oh! that’s not— you should really measure the ingredients!” soobin suddenly exclaimed. you felt his watchful eyes on you as you worked. you waved a hand behind you. you had this.

once you got all the ingredients in, you dug your gloved hands in and started mixing. there was sputtering from soobin behind you, but you ignored him. the dough was really sticky, so you took soobin’s words from earlier and reached for the flour.

the flour suddenly quickly poured out from the bag, way too much of it falling into the bowl. “oops!” you muttered, setting the bag back down, getting sticky dough everywhere. you dug your hands in again and started mixing until the dough was firm. you picked some up and rolled it into a small ball, then dipped the outside of the ball into the sugar and cinnamon mixture soobin has already set out.

you continued the process a few more times, struggling with the crumbling dough, until you filled the pan. you peeled off your gloves and picked the pan up, walking over to where the stoves were, a dumbfounded soobin trailing behind you.

mrs. choi popped her head in from the door and asked you both how it was going. you both turned. “it’s going great!” you beamed, pan still in hand. she gave you both a satisfied smile and went back to the front.

you put the pan of cookies in the oven. setting it to 415° you thought aloud at the amount of minutes you should set the timer for. “i think ten minutes should be good. or maybe fifteen? i’ll do fifteen just to be sure!”

once that was all settled, you dusted off your apron and turned to soobin, who was staring at you with wide eyes and mouth agape. “see, i told you. i got this! so what’s next?” your question must’ve snapped him out of his daze.

“oh— uh… you know— let’s just wait until the cookies are done. then we’ll continue.” he stuttered. you shrugged, stepping away from the stoves to get new gloves.

the timer dinged and you grabbed an oven mitt to take the pan of cookies out of the oven. you sat the pan on the cooling rack as you turned the oven off. soobin came near you and leaned over the freshly baked cookies, inspecting them. they were a pretty deep golden brown.

he grabbed the nearby metal spatula and went to lift one of the cookies to look under it. the cookie completely crumbled as he did. the inside was burnt. your mouth dropped in shock.

soobin looked over to you, his hand with the spatula still hanging in the air. he straightened, “so… let me show you how to actually make snickerdoodles. so that they don’t turn out like… this.” he motioned with the spatula to your failed cookies.

you nodded and couldn’t help but laugh. soobin hesitated before joining in with you. “this was a disaster, i’m sorry.” you said, covering your mouth. soobin took another look at the cookies before throwing them away in the nearby trash can. he looked back to you, “are you sure you’ve baked before?”

an embarrassed smile spread on your face. “no, not really. i mean i’ve made those cookies from the packages where you just have to add water…” soobin gave you a bemused look. he shook his head slightly and motioned you over to where the ingredients were.

standing next to him, he began guiding you on how to actually make snickerdoodles, you following his instructions. when you were about to do something wrong, like stick your gloved hands in the bowl to mix the dough again, he would stop you and tell you how to actually do it. “instead of mixing it with your hands, you want to take this—“ he held up a straight spatula “—and fold the dough instead.” soobin demonstrated for you as he spoke.

you nodded, following along. soobin stopped his motions and handed you the spatula. you took it from him and picked up from where he left off, folding the dough. once everything was mixed, soobin softly clapped. you laughed in amusement.

he pointed to the dough, “see how it’s not super sticky and not as firm and crumbly as yours was? that’s the consistency you want. this is the consistency that you’ll mainly be working towards when baking anything.” he picked up a small amount of dough and began rolling it between his hands. you copied his actions, and then rolled the ball into the sugar and cinnamon mixture.

after filling the pan, once again, soobin took the pan over to the oven and placed it inside. he turned to you, a reassuring smile on his face. “you don’t want to put it on too high or keep the cookies in for too long.” he put the oven on 350° and set the timer for 8 minutes.

“if you feel like maybe they’ve been in for too long, then you can go ahead and check them. i usually use a toothpick and the spatula to check the consistency and to make sure the bottom isn’t burnt.” soobin said. he did just that and backed away, his mouth forming a satisfied grin. nodding, you took in all the information he had just taught you.

that’s how the rest of your shift went. soobin walking you through how to make various baked goods. once you felt like you could start working on your own, soobin would move on to work on something else. here and there he would give you his input, and you’d apply it to whatever you were making. you and soobin made small talk as you worked, getting to know each other until it was time for you to start cleaning up.

you were absolutely covered in flour and dried dough. thankfully, once you and soobin we’re done with one baked good, you would clean whatever you used and the area before starting the next thing. so it wasn’t as messy as you were initially expecting the end of the day to be. you stripped your gloves off and threw them into the trash, soobin doing the same.

the two of you stood at the sink, him washing the dishes and you drying and putting them away. “i have an idea,” you said, breaking the comfortable silence between the two of you. soobin looked over to you, shaking his head a little to get their hair out of his eyes. he raised an eyebrow in question. “tomorrow we should see who can make the most stuff. like a competition! we can compete and whoever makes the most goods at the end of the week can win a prize or something! i don’t know, we can workshop the idea.” you exclaimed, you gave him a big hopeful smile as you rinsed and dried the dish he handed you.

“compete?” he asked. you nodded. he hummed as he thought. “okay! how are we gonna tally up points?” you put the whisk back in the drawer as you thought.

“each baked good can be a certain amount of points! like cakes and pies are three, pastries and cupcakes are two, and cookies and whatever else are one?” you looked at him, head tilted. “we can keep track on the chalkboard!” you then pointed over to the chalkboard next to where the door to the front of the bakery was. right now, it had a half erased list of what the two of you needed to make on it.

“okay!” soobin smiled. “let’s do it!” you squealed a little and ran over to the chalkboard, erasing the list on it. “hey! you’re suppose to be helping me wash dishes!” soobin laughed. you ignored him as you wrote.

on the chalkboard you wrote soobin and y/n in capital letters, drawing a line between your names and under them so it formed a table. “today doesn’t count since i was learning.” you spoke, placing the piece of chalk back on the little rack and turning to him. he looked back at you as he washed the dishes, grinning. you returned to his side and rinsed the dishes that he piled up.

“it’s on!” you said and glanced over to him. he laughed and shook his head. “in your wildest dreams.”

sunday rolled around quite fast and the bake off competition between you and soobin was at an all time high. currently, soobin was winning with a total of sixty-seven points. you were close behind him with sixty-six points. you were rushing to finish the cookies you were making for another point. the timer on the oven sounded off and you jumped in excitement, pulling out the freshly baked perfect cookies.

“another point for me!” you exclaimed, walking over to the chalkboard and adding a tally under your name. you turned to soobin with a wide grin. “now we’re tied!”

“because you keep cheating! all you’ve been doing the whole day is making cookies!” soobin spoke as he frosted a cake order meant for a birthday. on the top, the cake read “happy birthday honey!” with yellow and orange swirls and hearts. your grin widen and you gave a smug shrug. “step your cookies up before you crumble!”

soobin playfully scoffed at you and went back to adding intricate tubing to the cake. you leaned over it, watching him work. “i would be ahead of you right now if you didn’t take all the cakes and pies.” you mumbled, loud enough for him to hear. he chuckled at you, staring over at you for a brief second.

“i’ll let you have the next one,” soobin said softly. he added the last bit of tubing on the cake before the door to the front opened. mrs. choi came in with a small piece of paper in hand. you and soobin turned towards her in unison.

“another order for one of our famous blueberry pies!” mrs. choi exclaimed as she wiggled the paper. she pinned it on the cork board next to the chalkboard with your scores and went back up to the front.

you and soobin looked back to each other, frozen. you saw the gears in his brain turning as you stared into his eyes. in the short week you’ve gotten to know him and the competition you’ve both started, you learned to read the look in his eyes when he’s up to something. narrowing your eyes slightly, you shifted your body ever so subtly to the cork board just in case you needed to make a break for it. a slight smile tugged at the corners of soobin’s mouth.

“it’s all you,” he said lowly. your eyes narrowed further and cautiously you took a step, eyes locked on him. taking another, and another until you reached the cork board, you let your eyes slip from him and his wide smile. the bag of frosting still in his hand.

snatching the piece of paper, your eyes scoured over it hungrily, taking in all of the information. a mischievous smile spread across your lips as you read further and saw that the order also called for four blueberry and lemon puffed pastries. you were so winning this battle.

you felt a breath on your neck and turned to see soobin looming over you. you quickly pressed the paper to your chest and faced him, a gasp escaping your lips.

“cheater! you said you were gonna give me this one!” an amused smile took over your mischievous one. soobin held a cake box, cake inside, in his arms. he lifted his shoulders, a laugh shaking them.

“you were taking too long for it to be a simple blueberry pie.” soobin set the cake box on the table by the door to the front. he then put a finger to his lips and tapped it cartoonishly, eyes looking up to the ceiling as he hummed. “and did i say i was going to give you this one?” you nodded quickly.

“i lied,” soobin said. he then dashed to the table where the ingredients were. you dashed after him, trying to start the pie before he did.

the two of you moved frantically around the large kitchen, running into each other and stumbling over things sitting on the floor. you quickly whisked together cornstarch and sugar as you ran to the fridge. pushing soobin out the way with your hip and spilling a little bit of the mixture over you, you retrieved the fresh blueberries with your free hand and ran over to the stove.

soobin already had a saucepan on the stove ready with the heat on. water and lemon juice already inside. you tipped the cornstarch and sugar mixture inside as well, half of it landing on the stove top rather than in the pan. you grabbed the spoon next to the stove and began furiously mixing before you felt hands around your hips. soobin pulled you away from the stove and to the side as he snatched the spoon from your hands and started mixing himself.

a giggle escaped your lips as you turned back to the ingredients table and finished the dough he started. it was already done since it had been refrigerated yesterday. you grabbed the rolling pin and flattened the dough out, making sure to flour the surfaces so the dough doesn’t stick. saving enough of the dough for the lattice of the pie, you pressed the remaining dough into a pie plate that you quickly grabbed. you then trimmed and fluted the edges.

you ran to get a circular knife. soobin must’ve finally noticed that you weren’t hovering around him and turned to see what you were doing, a confident smile on his lips. the smile dropped when he saw that you already had the base of the pie ready. soobin dropped the spoon on the counter next to the stove and dashed to where you were cutting strips into dough.

soobin tried to push you out the way with his hip but you dug your feet into ground and pushed him back. you started cutting the dough faster, the strips coming out sloppy and uneven. majority of them weren’t even the same length.

“accept defeat!” you laughed as you moved soobin’s prying hands away from the dough. the kitchen was filled with laughs and soobin poked a finger into your side, making you jump. “not when i’m so close to glory!”

“let me have this like you said you would!” you exclaimed. you were coming up on the last strips that you needed for the pie. it was hard to cut the dough when soobin kept grabbing at it. giggling, you pressed the circular knife back into the dough moving hurriedly when you got another shove from soobin’s hip.

the circular knife suddenly nicked your finger and you jumped back, dropping the knife, as blood began flowing from the wound. you both freeze and suddenly soobin is grabbing your hand with the bloody finger.

unconsciously, soobin puts your bloody finger in his mouth. all movements freeze as you stare at each other with wide eyes. not even breathing could be heard. the two of you are covered in various different ingredients and the kitchen around you is a mess.

soobin slowly takes your finger out of his mouth, his eyes widening by the second. your heart starts to beat rapidly at the exchange. heat warms up your face in full force and you can see the redness creep up from the back of soobin’s neck.

“oh my god…” soobin finally says. he’s still holding your hand, but, thanks to him the blood is no longer flowing. “oh my god! i’m so sorry, y/n! that was a force of habit.” soobin repeats. you let out an anxious giggle.

“you usually put people’s bloody fingers in your mouth?” you ask teasingly. his cheeks are a deep pink and you giggle at the sight. your heart seems to be beating faster and faster with each passing moment. soobin breaks away from your gaze with great effort, embarrassment written clearly all over his features. the tension between you is high and you start to sweat in your loose clothes and apron.

“i’m so so sorry, i really did not mean to do that,” soobin says lowly. you break into a fit of giggles, amused by the whole thing. slowly, soobin joins you with hesitant chuckles. soon you’re both doubled over, stomachs hurting from laughing so hard.

you’re holding onto the table for support when soobin speaks again. “maybe… we should take a breather…” he trails and you nod in agreement, holding your stomach slightly. soobin takes your hand softly and leads you to the sink where the first aid is. he motions for you to wash your hands. as you wash them, he pulls out a bandaid and begins opening it. once your hands are dry, he gently takes them and wraps the bandaid around the shallow wound on your finger.

soobin smiles shyly at you, his hands still holding yours. “y’know what… you can have the pie.” the blush on his cheeks has spread to his whole face as he spoke. you giggle and nod, “yeah, i would like that.” soobin’s face lights up in sudden realization.

“oh my god! the pie!” he turns to the stove, letting go of your hands, as he runs over to it. he takes the saucepan with the blueberry filling off the heated burner and puts it on one of the ones that’s turned off. you jog over to him, you both inspect the filling as he takes the spoon and mixes it. it was a little thicker than you both intended, but it was fine. you look at each other and start laughing.

“here, you finish the pie, and i’ll start cleaning up. we both look like a mess.” soobin hands you the spoon with a grin and you take it. he tried wiping some of the flour off of him to no avail as he walked over to the ingredients table.

by the time the blueberry filling has cooled, soobin has cleaned the majority of the kitchen. you bring the pan with the filling over to the pie plate and pour it inside the crust, saving the remaining for the pastries. soobin had already gotten the pastries ready for you, so you used the remaining filling for them.

the lattice for the top of the pie came out shotty at best, but it wouldn’t matter once it baked. you put both the pie and the pastries into their own oven and set them to cook. you turned to soobin to see he was about to start washing the dishes.

“i’ll wash them,” you said. he’s basically cleaned the whole kitchen, it was the least you can do. you washed and dried the dishes, putting them back in their respective places. you leaned back onto the counter near the ovens next to soobin.

soobin had updated the chalkboard, adding his three points for the cake he made and your seven points for the pie and pastries. he bumped your shoulder with his. “you won,” he said softly. soobin then grinned and added, “this week.” you chuckled at him, turning to him slightly.

“so what’s my prize?” you asked. the two of you hadn’t actually come up with what the prize would be. you’ve both been too focused on making the baked goods to actually win. soobin’s eyes wided a fraction, blush once again reddening his cheeks slightly. “what do you want?”

you faced forward again as you thought about it. “i don’t know… what are you willing to give me?” soobin’s blush deepens, but you aren’t facing him to notice. after a moment with no answer, you looked over to him, awaiting an answer. his head is angled down and it’s subtly tilted away from you.

soobin let’s out a cough and wipes his face before looking back up at you. “uh— what— um… how about i bake you anything of your choosing?” he sputters. you smile at him, “anything? even if it’s difficult?” soobin playfully scoffed and waved a hand in the air before crossing his arms over his chest.

“nothing is too difficult for me! it can be anything! cake, pie, pastry, cookie, bread, whatever. puffed, filled, turnovers, upside down, layered, anything. whatever you choose!” you thought for a moment, then smiled warmly at him. “what about blueberry bread?” you asked. “but, like really fancy… in honor of my first win and for many to come!”

he laughed at the smirk on your face. “done! when do you want it?” you shrugged at him, “whenever you have the time.” he nodded, more to himself than to you.

you were excited to see how soobin made the blueberry bread. you giggled at the thought of him giving you a fancy set up for something as simple as bread. nodding back to him anyway, the two of you made your way to the front of the bakery to end your shift.

sunoo had an eyebrow raised as you recalled the previous day’s events. he was half listening to your rambling and half paying attention to the customer he was checking out.

“and then,” you said, literally sitting on the edge of your seat, “he put my finger in his mouth!” sunoo whipped around to face you, eyes wide. the customer, who was starting to walk away, froze in their spot, also staring widely at you. “i know,” you nodded.

“he didn’t mean to… he said it was a force of habit, but still. like what? my heart was beating so fast, sunoo, you don’t even understand!” you continued. the customer gave you a wide playful smile and a thumbs up before exiting the shop. sunoo gasped as he took your hands.

sunoo looked at the fresh bandaid on your finger intensely. he then leaned back and looked at you, a knowing smirk on his lips. “what did i say, y/n! what did i say!” he teased. “and what happened after that? you started taking off each other’s clothes?” your face heated.

“no! we went back to baking!” you smacked his arm. sunoo sighed loudly. “lame! you should’ve told him to fill something else.” he gave you a wink as another customer came in.

you covered your flushed face with your hands. “sunoo!” you harshly whispered. he just laughed at you.

when you went into the bakery for your shift that day, you were surprised to see that soobin had already prepared your prize. in the back, the ingredients table was decorated with a flowery tablecloth. there was a pretty lace doily under where the plate of blueberry bread sat. candles were lit and there was a small note that read: for the talented y/n y/l/n in a bold cursive font.

soobin then came up to you, he was dressed very nicely with a button up shirt tucked into black slacks. there was a matching black tie tied around his neck. he held a metal plate with a tea towel and wrapped silverware on it in one hand, the other arm pressed behind his back.

“for you, my dear.” he held the metal plate towards you in a bow. you let out a small laugh at the whole scene as you took the contents from the plate. heart skipping a beat. just then did you realize that soobin had drawn a cartoonish mustache on his upper lip. loud belly laughs erupted from you and you leaned against the table for support. “the mustache?” you managed to breathe out, it being followed by another fit of laughter.

soobin joined you, relaxing his stiff stance. he sat the metal plate on the table. “you said make it fancy! i made it fancy!” you giggled and nodded, “you sure did!” he motioned towards the blueberry bread with a white gloved hand. you had to stifle your laugh at it.

“well? go on and try it!” you smiled at him and grabbed the knife from the wrapped silverware he had given you. you cut a slice of blueberry bread off the loaf and sat it on the awaiting plate next to it. grabbing your fork, you waved it in the air with a giggle and then used it to grab a piece of the bread. you ate the piece and thought for a moment as you swallowed it.

“wow!” you said as you grabbed another piece, “this is delicious!” soobin smirked smugly and raised his hands. “what can i say? i’m actually gordon ramsey.” you choked a little on the bread as you erupted into laughter. “sure…” you trailed playfully.

it’s been a little over a month since you’ve started working at nap of a star bakery, and it has been the best job you’ve ever had thus far. the little competition between you and soobin had turned from small battles to a full blown war. the two of you were baking so much to garner extra points that the bakery had a bunch of overstock and mrs. choi had to tell you both to slow down.

in that time, you and soobin have grown closer than ever. “i’m starting to feel replaced,” sunoo had said to you the other day, after telling him how soobin cheated to win that week. the competition had gotten so serious between the two of you that you were now competing to see who was the better baker. you even brought sunoo to the bakery a couple of times to be the judge.

you and soobin were once again frantically running around the kitchen, this time fighting over who gets to bake the wedding cake a customer ordered. you held a large plastic tray in your hands, running over to the ingredients table when your foot caught on a bag of flour and you and the plastic tray suddenly went flying. hands quickly caught your waist and steadied you before any real damage could happen. the tray made a loud noise as it landed on the ground, startling you more.

you breathed heavily in shock as you turned to look at soobin, your eyes wide. “woah,” you said. you both broke out into laughter. “jesus, y/n, you almost just saw the light.” soobin’s hands were still on your waist as you turned to face him fully. “thankfully you were here!”

soobin removed his hands and your waist felt cold without them. “maybe we should just work together on this one…” he trailed as he looked around the mess of the kitchen. “i mean, this is someone’s wedding cake after all.” you nodded in agreement, chuckling a little. he smiled warmly at you.

reaching up to his face, you giggled, “you have flour on your nose.” you purposely wiped flour on him and he scrunched his nose a little, a small grin on his lips. soobin takes his flour covered hands and wipes them across your cheeks. “you have flour on your cheeks,” he says. you raise your eyebrows as you look at him.

the two of you are laughing softly as you stare at each other. you dip your hands into the flour sitting on the table and cup both of soobin’s cheeks with your hands. this is a side game you and soobin have started recently, going up to each other with flour and saying that the other has flour on them. it makes even more of a mess, and mrs. choi is always surprised to see you when you go back to the front of the bakery, but it’s fun.

you’ve been secretly drawing hearts with flour on him and giggling at his confused stare when you wouldn’t tell him what you drew. it was always in a place he couldn’t see or reach.

“can you guess what i’m about to say?” you ask him. you feel his cheeks lift into a smile and see his dimples pop out. he starts laughing, “you have flour on your cheeks?” giggling at him, you squeeze his face a little.

“you have flour on your cheeks.”

you’re mere inches away from each other. somehow, soobin’s hands have found their way back to your waist and you’re both giggling as you stare into each other’s eyes. once the giggles subside and nothing but smiles are left, you notice an emotion you can’t figure out swirl in soobin’s eyes.

your heart is beating rapidly in your chest as you realize your sudden closeness and you watch as soobin’s eyes briefly flicker down to your lips. inhaling, you decide to just go for it and act on your emotions. you bring your lips to soobin’s, pressing them together softly. his hands tighten slightly at your waist as he kisses you back.

the kiss is slow and intimate. for a while now you’ve been crushing on him, ever since the day he made you that blueberry bread as a prize. sunoo has teased you mercilessly about it, calling himself cupid even though he had no hand in your blossoming feelings. the times when you brought him to the bakery to judge, he would drop not so subtle hints about your crush. you had to always give him a harsh glare over soobin’s shoulder.

your arms wrapped around soobin’s neck, pulling him closer to you as the kiss deepened. your bodies were pressed up against each other. pulling away from the kiss slightly, you tried to breathe. your breath lightly fanned his cheek, lifting some of the flour off of it. soobin leaned towards you and kissed you passionately, his arms wrapping tighter around your waist.

when you broke apart, you both were breathing heavily, lips plumped at the sudden exchange. you smiled a little, “i’ve been waiting for you to do that.” soobin chuckled. “i’m sorry i didn’t do it sooner.” you both leaned in for another kiss but jumped apart when you heard the door to the front open.

mrs. choi took one good look at the two of you and shook her head in amusement. “how the two of you always manage to get covered in so much flour always amuses me!” she held up two small pieces of paper. “more orders! business is booming!” she laughed and the two of you awkwardly joined her. once she left, you and soobin looked at each other and started to laugh. you were absolutely covered in flour, mrs. choi was right. soobin nodded his head over to the abandoned dough you had started and the two of you began working on the wedding cake again. this time, together.

it was after hours at the bakery and you and soobin had your friends sitting at one of the tables at the front of the bakery so they could be the judges of who’s baked goods were better. you had met each other’s friends a couple times now through various judging events, so when you asked them to judge the final round to put it all to rest, they accepted.

today, you were going to find out just how much of a better baker you are than soobin. and you are gonna laugh in his face when everyone says how good your baked goods are. currently, you and soobin were in the back preparing your dishes. you had decided on a french profiterole cake while soobin had decided on a gâteau basque cake. you knew your cake was delicious, you had been practicing ever since you and soobin decided that you should have one last round to see who the greatest baker was.

soobin held a small plate out with a small slice of the cake he had made for the challenge out to you. you raised your eyebrows in shock and smiled up to him. “you trying to boost your ego before the judgment?” you asked as you took the fork from him and took a bite of the cake. your eyes widen at the flavor. “this is amazing, soobin! oh my god!” maybe you weren’t gonna win this after all…

soobin smiled warmly at you as he held up a small, rolled up piece of paper. you sat the plate down on the nearby table and took it from him, unrolling it. “be mine?” he asked, right as your eyes trailed over the same words on the paper. a smile broke out on your face and you stared up at him. he held another small plate on it, a small cake flower in the center. you giggled as you took the plate from him. “of course i’ll be yours!”

you sat the plate with the flower next to the plate with the slice of cake as you wrapped your arms around soobin’s neck, pulling him down into a kiss. he laughed softly against your lips and pulled you close.

“hello?” you heard a voice drag out from the front of the bakery. “when are we going to get to judge? i didn’t come here hungry for nothing!” you heard muffled voices and then a “shh! shut up beomgyu! what if they’re getting busy? you know how badly he needs that.”

giggling, you pulled away from soobin, giggling harder at his flushed cheeks. you held his hand and looked longingly at him. “you ready?” you asked. soobin nodded, then smirked a little. “you ready to get told you’re the second best baker?”

you rolled your eyes at him playfully, letting go of his hand so that you can grab your cake. the two of you brought your cakes out to the front and your friends erupted into claps. “finally!” soobin’s friend beomgyu had said. his arm got playfully hit by the guy next to him, who you’ve come to know as yeonjun.

“i love you, y/n, but if your cake tastes like shit i’m spitting it out and looking at you with the upmost betrayal. don’t embarrass me here after i’ve been talking you up!” sunoo teased as you and soobin sat your cakes down in front of them. you laughed at him, holding a hand to your chest in mock hurt.

there were already empty plates and silverware placed in front of all of your friends. “alright!” you started. “welcome to the great bake off! yes, the great british bake off was copyrighted… but that’s okay!” laughter sounded around you as you clapped your hands together. you looked over at soobin, “do you wanna go first or do you want me to go first?”

soobin shrugged. “i’ll go first.” he cut slices of his cake and put them each on your friends’ empty plates. “alright, you already know how the judging works. each judge will take a bite from the food and we’ll go down a line one by one for statements. dig in!” soobin spoke. your friends did just that, murmurs of how good the cake was coming from them.

“alright, kai, you’re up!” kai hummed and put a finger to his chin as he thought. “it was absolutely disgusting,” he said as he took another bite. “seriously soobin, what is wrong with you?” kai kept eating the cake as you all laughed.

taehyun nodded in approval, praising soobin for how good of a job he did with the cake. yeonjun stood from the table, did a cartwheel, and sat back down before calmly saying that it was delicious. you and sunoo stared at him with wide eyes as you saw the regret and slight embarrassment form on his heated face. beomgyu hummed, dramatically putting a finger to his lips and tapping as he kept taking more bites. he hummed again.

soobin walked up to him and grabbed him around the collarbones, shaking him slightly as everyone laughed. “it’s really good!” beomgyu said as he sat his fork down, plate empty. yeonjun shook his head at him. sunoo then cleared his throat, sitting up straight. “it was very delicious, but not as good as y/n’s cake!” he said. you laughed, “you haven't even tasted mine yet!” sunoo shot you a glare with wide eyes as he shushed you.

you cut up slices of your cake for the judges, putting one on each of their plates. they barely took a bite of your cake before they all jumped up from their seats and started loudly clapping. dramatically saying how wonderful your cake is and how their taste buds have never graced such perfection. you couldn’t help the laugh that spilled from your mouth at them.

“fantastic! you are truly are the best baker that ever lived!” taehyun exclaimed, clapping hard. “truly, truly. i mean, this cake is godly! higher than that even!” sunoo added as he dramatically took another bite and melted back down into his chair. you shook your head at them.

you looked over to soobin, pouting. he laughed softly at your acceptance of defeat. his cake was absolutely amazing…

soobin came over to you, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close. you looked at him as he smiled down at you. playfully, you rolled your eyes and crossed your arms. soobin placed a kiss on the top of your head, leaning his head against yours as you both watched the dramatic appraisal from both of your friends.

taglist: @jjunberry @gothgyuu @spooksh0wbabe @beargyuuzz @kittyhyuka

masterlist┊part two┊request rules ༘ ˚· ౨ৎ ฅ/ᐠ. ̫ .ᐟ\ฅ

866 notes · View notes

daisynik7 · 8 months

Text

Pairing: Ino Takuma x f!reader

Rating: Explicit - minors do not interact!

Word Count: ~2.5k

cw: next-door neighbor Ino, friends-to-lovers trope, explicit language, smut - cunnilingus

Summary: Ino is the cute guy next door that you’ve befriended ever since you moved in. He’s been nothing but kind to you, and sure, there’s attraction there, but you’ve never acted on it considering you’re already taken. When you find out your long-distance boyfriend is a good-for-nothing cheater, you turn to your friend for comfort, and maybe something more.

Author's Note: My adoration for this man grows everyday! This one is kind of a tease, but I hope you still enjoy it! MDNI divider credit to @/cafekitsune! Taglist: @slvt-for-smut @man-knees @batafuraikisu @neverlandlostchild @bloompompom @dprkento @a-listaire @antique-remains @aiyaaayei

part 5 of to all the boys who live next door anthology series

It's a cold Friday night in the middle of winter when you find out your boyfriend of two years is cheating on you.

Kenzo is studying for his master’s degree overseas while you remain in your hometown, patiently waiting for his return. You’ve been long distance for almost a year now and while it’s difficult being apart, it’s mostly been manageable. Or so you thought.

You’re eating dinner with your next-door neighbor, Ino, when Kenzo finally texts you back. He’s been busy studying in the library for his upcoming exams and you haven’t heard much from him all day. When you see his name in your notifications, you can’t help but get excited, dropping your chopsticks to reply to him.

Kenzo: I’m finally home

You: Yay! Let’s talk soon

Ino prepared hot pot this evening, offering to treat you for the dinner you cooked the other night. The two of you have grown close over these past several months, enough to call each other friends. You’ve never hidden your friendship from Kenzo, who isn’t typically the jealous type. So when you tell him that you’re finishing up with your meal with Ino, you’re surprised when he sends you a rather blunt reply.

Kenzo: Can you hurry up? I have somewhere to be and can’t talk long

Your heart sinks. He never mentioned having any plans later, so you have no idea where he’s going. Ino continues to slurp on his soup innocently across from you.

You swallow hard, this sense of dread building in your stomach, making you lose your appetite. “Sorry, Ino. I have to go.”

He wipes his mouth with a napkin, looking at you, concerned. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you answer, avoiding his gaze. “I just have to talk to Kenzo right now before he leaves. I guess he’s going out tonight.” You stand up, guilty about your boyfriend and about abandoning your friend. “Thank you for dinner. I’ll be back later to help you clean up.”

He waves it off, giving you a reassuring grin. “Don’t worry about it. Go do your thing with Kenzo. I’ve got all this taken care of.”

You smile back at him, thankful to have a neighbor so understanding and so sweet.

Back in your apartment, you rush into your bedroom, inspecting the mirror quickly to check your appearance before turning on your laptop for the video call. It takes him three rings to pick up. When he does, he greets you with a surly expression. “Hey.”

You smile hesitantly, nervous that he’s upset at you for whatever reason. “Hey. Is everything okay?”

He sighs heavily, running his fingers through his hair. In the two years you’ve been dating him, you recognize this habit of his when he’s bothered by something. “Long day.”

“You want to talk about it?”

He contemplates, then shakes his head, deciding to change the subject all together. “Did you enjoy dinner?”

It’s doesn’t seem like a genuine ask. Still, you relax a bit, hoping his bad attitude is from exhaustion and nothing to do with you. “Yeah. Ino made hot pot tonight. I wasn’t able to finish it, but everything I ate so far was really good.”

This seems to strike a nerve in him. There’s that distinguishable twitch in his right eye, another indicator that he’s irritated. “Well, I’m sorry for taking you away from him,” he sneers. “Maybe you should go back to your other boyfriend now to finish your fucking dinner.”

In the one year you’ve been long distance, he’s never snapped at you like this, so you’re startled by his current demeanor. “What?”

He rolls his eyes at you. “It’s obvious you want to fuck him.”

Flabbergasted by this accusation, you repeat, “What?! Kenzo!”

“Why do you spend so much time with him, huh? You really expect me to believe you’re just friends?” His tone is so condescending, your skin prickles, grossed out by his behavior

“Where is this coming from? You never had a problem with Ino before.” You’re completely baffled. Never has he mentioned that he’s suspicious of your neighbor. He’s never had a reason to be. Why now?

He continues to huff into the mic, clearly frazzled by the entire situation. “I think this whole thing is just fucked up. So fucked up.” There’s the sound of vibrating on his desk, most likely his phone. You can see his eyes glancing to the side, reading whatever notification he received.

Bringing his attention back to the matter at hand, you calmly explain, “Kenzo. I promise you, there is nothinggoing on between me and Ino. He’s just a friend. Please believe me.”

Still distracted, he mutters, “I have to go.”

You’re getting desperate now. “Kenzo, wait. We should talk about this – ”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore, okay?” he snaps, glaring at you. “I’ve had a rough day and I need to relax.”

“Kenzo, please,” you beg him.

He considers it for a moment. Then, in the background, you can hear knocking, bringing him back from his thoughts. “I have to go.”

Defeated, you nod, not pushing it any further. Without a proper goodbye, he clicks on his keyboard and rushes off to answer whoever’s at his front door, thinking he properly left the call. However, he’s still logged on, and you can see everything. And soon, you’ll hear everything.

You don’t get the chance to end the call yourself. It all happens so quickly. The thud of the door closing, the unfamiliar voice of a woman, their footsteps and conversation growing louder as they enter the bedroom. You’re tuned in on the laptop, watching them with wide eyes, frozen. Like watching a trainwreck happening in front of you. Actually, it’s more like you’re the one getting trampled.

His back faces the camera, arms wrapped around another girl, his lips smacking noisily from their careless kisses. You sit there, mouth agape at what you’re currently witnessing, holding your breath.

“I can’t wait to fuck this pussy,” he groans, unbuckling his pants. You resist the urge to dry heave at how disgusting he sounds.

“Yeah?” she giggles. “It’s only been two days and you miss it already?”

“Fuck yeah,” he responds, sucking on her neck, groping her chest.

Before they can strip any more of their clothes off, you yell out his name, startling the both of them. “Kenzo! What the fuck?!” You don’t realize until now that tears are streaming down your cheeks, your throat dry and tight, struggling to get the words out.

He whips around towards the laptop, horror surrounding his face as he realizes, gawking at you through the screen, stammering his words. “What are you doing?!”

“What are you doing, asshole?!”

“Ken, who is that?” she asks, genuinely confused, stepping closer to you to get a better look.

“I’m his girlfriend,” you answer, trembling with anger. “Actually, I am now his ex-girlfriend.”

“You have a girlfriend?!” she shrieks, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Had a girlfriend,” you correct her. “He’s all yours if you want him.”

He puts his face right up to the screen, his appearance making your skin crawl. “This is a big misunderstanding.”

“I heard what you said. I fucking saw what you did! How long?”

“This is the first time – ”

“A month,” the other woman answers, staring down at the floor, guilty. “We’ve been hooking up for a month. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.”

Kenzo turns to her, then back to you, sputtering nonsense. Apologies, excuses, just complete and utter bullshit. His bizarre behavior from earlier starts to make sense now. He was projecting whatever guilt he was suffering onto you. But while your conscience remains clean, his is sullied. Defiled, dirty, and ruined by his own volitions.

Having heard and seen enough, you hang up, slamming your laptop shut, sobbing into the palms of your hands.

~~~

Half an hour later, you leave your apartment, dragging your feet towards next door. Your eyes are puffy, cheeks sticky from unwiped tears, overwhelmed with emotion. Anger, heartbreak, and betrayal all at once. Kenzo’s been trying to reach you since you hung up on him, but you’ve ignored him each time, tempted to block him and be done with it once and for all However, you can’t bring yourself to do it yet. Maybe there’s just a small part of you that wants to spite him; you just don’t know how.

When Ino answers, you immediately launch into him, burying your face in his shoulder, crying. It can’t be helped. You need a friend. He doesn’t need to process it; being sweet is second-nature to him. He wraps his arms around you, massaging your back gently, squeezing you snug in his embrace. “What happened?”

Between sobs, you manage to reply, “Kenzo cheated on me.”

He tenses up, outraged. “What?”

You nod, wiping your face on the cotton of his sweatshirt, making a note in your mind to apologize for this later.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, hands still gentle along your spine. His touch is comforting, exactly what you need to dull the pain. He lets you indulge in his warmth for a moment, not speaking, listening to your ragged breathing steady.

Once the tears stop and you’re composed enough, you remove yourself from him, wiping your wet cheeks with your sleeve. “I’m sorry,” you sniffle.

He laughs softly. “Why are you apologizing?”

“I feel bad for bothering you.”

“You’re not.” He holds his hand out. “Do you want to talk about it inside?”

You nod, taking his hand, following him into his apartment, where he leads you to the couch. He passes you a tissue box, though you’re sure you’ve run out of tears by now. You’re alone sulking for a few minutes while he brews you a hot mug of tea, setting it on the coffee table when he returns. “Thank you,” you say, smiling at him. His presence alone has been comforting enough, but you hold the porcelain cup in your hands, basking in its soothing heat.

“Of course,” he grins, sitting next to you.

You rest your head on his shoulder. “You’re a great friend, Ino.”

He slides his fingers between yours, lacing them together. “You are too.”

This kind of intimacy feels natural with him, which is what surprises you. His hand fits so easily with yours, you begin to wonder why you haven’t held it before, why you haven’t been doing this from the start. Ino’s always treated you kindly, more than a neighbor should, better than your good-for-nothing ex-boyfriend ever did, and without asking for anything in return except your company.

Your heart thumps loudly against your chest, you’re sure that even he can hear it. You turn your head to look at him, so close that your noses are nearly touching. Swallowing thickly, you try to say something, anything, but you can’t, unable to articulate what you’re feeling in this moment.

He shrugs his beanie off, nuzzling his nose to yours. “Since we’re friends, let me take care of you. I’ll make you feel good. Make you forget about that asshole.”

It takes you a while to reply to him, but you do. “Okay, Ino,” you whisper, closing the small distance between you, staring at his mouth. “I trust you.”

He kisses you, gentle and almost too sweet, you want to savor it. When his tongue grazes your lip, you moan into his mouth, letting your inhibitions loose. You’re no longer thinking about the events from earlier this night. Instead, all you focus on is Ino and how good he feels against you. He increases the pace, kisses growing sloppier, your hands running through his hair while his roam your back. He trails along your neck, then down to your stomach, lower and lower until his hands are on your knees, gradually spreading your legs apart. “Can I?”

He doesn’t have to spell it out. You know exactly what he’s offering. And who are you to deny his generosity? After all, what are friends for?

“Please,” you beg him, brushing the hair away from his forehead, making sure he gets a good look at your pleading eyes. You need him to make you forget about everything.

He makes quick work of your clothes, stripping your bottoms and underwear off in one fell swoop, positioning himself between your thighs. “Call me Takuma,” he tells you, smooching your plush skin.

You let out a pathetic whimper as he flattens his tongue on your clit, stroking it slowly. He goes faster and messier the more his name pours out of your mouth in pleasured moans. It doesn’t take long for you to reach your first climax, grip tight in his hair, knees trembling from the stimulation. He doesn’t let up, though. Ino continues to eat you out until you’re pliant on the couch, yielding to every lick, suck, and stroke he delivers you. Your pussy throbs for him, wet and slick from your orgasms, ready to be filled with his cock.

Suddenly, your phone rings and you’re brought back to a grim reality, one where Kenzo still exists. His name flashes on the screen, requesting to video chat you for the umpteenth time tonight, trying to apologize for a sin that can’t be forgiven. You reach for the coffee table to silence your phone, wanting to ignore him. “Fuck, he’s calling me again. Sorry.”

“Answer it,” Ino says, still lapping at your puffy clit.

You laugh, looking down at him, certain that you heard him wrong. “What?”

He gazes up at you, lips all wet and swollen from devouring you. Drool leaks from the sides of his mouth, his chin shiny with spit and slick. His cheeks are rosy, eyes laden with lust. He smiles at you, endearing and sweet, with just the hint of wicked intent behind it. “Show him how good I treat you.”

Something stirs inside you. This is an opportunity to get your revenge. And sure, it’s petty and vindictive, but you’re a woman scorned by the man you loved, the man you thought loved you. Why shouldn’t you be?

Before you can chicken out, you point the camera towards Ino, who smirks, diving right back into your cunt, being extra loud this time. You answer the phone, Kenzo’s face maximizing on the screen, calling out your name, relieved you picked up. When he realizes what he’s watching, hearing you moan Ino’s name like you used to moan his, Kenzo’s expression contorts into one of rage, disgust. He starts cursing like a madman, shouting at Ino, at you. You drown it out with your own profanities. “Fuck, Takuma, right there! Right there! Oh fuck!”

Kenzo hangs up the call after he gets one more cruel remark in, but you don’t care. You’ve gotten your payback. Maybe it’s not enough, maybe it is. For now, all you want is to be with Ino, no more distractions. “Fuck me,” you whine, tugging on his brunette strands.

He crawls over you, kissing you passionately with wet lips. “Whatever you want, sweetheart. Whatever you want.”

It’s safe to say that you and Ino become much better friends after tonight.

#ino takuma #ino takuma x reader #ino takuma smut #ino takuma x you #ino takuma fluff #ino x reader #ino jjk #ino x you #ino smut #takuma ino x reader #takuma ino smut #takuma ino x you #takuma ino fluff

777 notes · View notes

run2gyuz · 1 month

Text

BABY ITS COLD OUTSIDE Jake

Soft dom! Jake x fem reader

A/N: I know it’s literally the middle of summer but I got the idea to write this so here you go :)

Warnings: Established relationship, unprotected sex (don’t try at home), Jake cums inside (uh oh), really fluffy, brief mention of cheating (not either reader nor Jake), reader doubts themself a little, lmk anything else!

wc: 1347

MINORS DNI

She knew your radiators were broken, she knew yet she did nothing - leaving you sat in 5 blankets mid winter watching the snow pile up on your apartment. You’ve never been the biggest fan of your landlord yet this was a new low. You could probably stay with Jake if you asked him - you didn’t want to bother him though. Your relationship was fairly new - having only known the boy for a few months.

As if he could sence you talking about him, your phones ringtone broke through the chilled silence found within your apartment.

“Hey baby!” He was always so happy- it made you sad sometimes, he was so happy and you wondered if you brought him down.

“Hi Jakey,” you muttered with a smile, “everything okay?”

He continued on that he was fine, reciprocating the question, to which you replied that you were,

“okay, just a little cold!”

Jake sighed at your response, chuckling a little to him self before telling you that,

“That’s why I called actually, I was wondering if I could come over? We could watch a movie or the snow or something? I haven’t seen you since Monday so I’ve been missing you,”

He missed you. He missed you. You felt a blush creep onto your checks before saying,

“Babe Monday was yesterday ? But of course you can come over- it’s a little cold tho so be prepared for that,”

Jake lightly laughed, his breath forming clouds of steam as he started his walk towards your apartment. “I miss you when you go the bathroom yn. Anyway I’m walking so I’m sure it’ll be warm enough for me. See you soon babe!”

and with that the phone call ended and you leaned over to turn on your bedside lamp, inspecting your room. It was clean enough! You forced yourself to get up out of bed - turning on the kettle to prepare yourself and Jake a cup of tea. You slumped down on the armchair to wait for him - he surely can’t be long now.

10 minutes later - a knock on your door brought you out of the trance you’d been in, attempting to count the snowflakes falling onto your window.

When you opened the door you were met with a very snowy Jake, clutching a very snowy bunch of flowers that were clad with a very snowy envelope. You let out a laugh at the site, ushering him into your apartment. He hung up his coat and jacket on the back of your door, making sure he was snow free before pulling you into his embrace. His skin was so cold he could barely feel a thing - but that didn’t matter now he was with you.

He pulled away from you and handed you the flowers which he’d managed to shake a good portion of snow from. You blushed once more- pulling the card from the top.

“Oh! I got them on the way here they were just outside the flower shop in the snow and they looked sad so, I’m not sure what the note says,”

you laughed at his frantics - reading the note out loud,

“Aeri, I’m sorry I slept with your friend I thought it was you - my bad babe! from Yeonjun,”

The two of you looked at eachother before bursting into laughter. You place the flowers into a vase and the letter down next to it - poor Aeri!

Jake sits himself down onto your couch - pulling you down to straddle him before pulling the blanket sat next to him around your shoulders, leaning in to place a kiss against your temple. He leaned back and smiled- his cheeks holding a rosy hue from the cold. He leaned in again, pressing a kiss now to your lips.

This was longer than the previous - as Jake’s tongue crept its way into your mouth, licking against your teeth and tongue. The actions themselves seemed filthy though when they came from him it seemed like a wholesome show of love.

“missed you baby,

he muttered in between kisses, his hands made their way down from his shoulders towards your hips, ever so slightly pushing you down onto us crotch. You let out a slight groan at the feeling - noticing how Jake caught his lip in his teeth.

You loved this feeling- not just the feeling of Jake’s cock against your cunt (obviously that was great too) - but the raw feeling of intimacy between you, it was something you’d never felt with a partner before yet with Jake it seemed to be constant.

He sighed as you shifted yourself a little closer towards him - if that was possible - toying with the drawstring of his sweats. “wanna be closer to you,”

you muttered, hands feeling resting on his shoulders,

“What like you wanna fuck?”

you giggled at his words - telling him,

“no - not yet at least - I want you to be inside, just to feel close to you, sorry if that’s a little weird,”

your voice got quieter the further in the sentence you got, worried Jake might thing that was too intimate for him or something along those lines. You were mistaken tho as Jake pulled your face towards his, leaning a light kiss against your lips,

“I’d love that baby,”

You smiled once more before standing up and letting your pyjama pants and panties fall to the floor, you watched too as Jake lifted his hips just enough to pull out his cock which was now - obviously - hard. You took your place again straddling his hips, positioning his cock at your entrance before sinking down onto it. The pair of you let out a moan at the sensation - not caring about volume or what others might think. As you were completely sat down, Jake leaned once more to grab the blanket and place it around your shoulders.

“look so pretty on my cock baby,” he chuckled, “just don’t be moving too much yeah? Won’t be able to concentrate if all I can feel is you,”

you nodded at the boy telling him you’d be careful. You let your hands rest on his shoulders, massaging them gently as Jake’s head fell backwards against the couch.

You continued to massage Jake’s muscles, knowing they’re still tense as he usually goes to the gym on a Tuesday morning. All of a sudden you felt Jake buck into you- causing you to let out a moan.

“Shit sorry baby, feels so good,”

you teased the boy a little, leaning forward to place a few kisses along his jaw line, causing him to let out another moan. You let your hands find his hair - dragging them around lightly as you massaged his scalp, sometimes giving clumps a light tug.

Jake started mumbling incoherently, and you could feel him bucking his hips ever so slightly, you watched with amusement as his eyelids twitched - indicating that he was rolling his eyes back as well. You thought you’d test the waters a little, grinding down a touch while giving his hair a tug, what you didn’t expect was for Jake to buck up into you - emptying his cum with a loud moan of your name.

You watched as his eyes flickered open - having caught his breath he looked at you with an embarrassed face.

“sorry, felt too good I got carried away… I’ll make you fun too if you want ! I’ll have to eat you out or something though because no way can I go again.”

you shook your head at the boy,

“no no no, I like being this close but I’m getting tired so could we sleep here? My rooms colder than this anyway..?”

Jake laughed, pulling you even closer to him before whispering in your ear,

“I mean as much as I’d love that- won’t we be all covered in dry cum in the morning ?”

you giggled, leaving a kiss on his lips murmuring,

“that’s tomorrow’s problem,”.

#run2gyuz #enha hard hours #enha hard thoughts #enha smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #enhypen hard thoughts #jake sim hard thoughts #jake hard thoughts #jake sim hard hours #jake sim smut #jake smut #jake hard hours

296 notes · View notes

the-soliloquies-of-sadists · 9 months

Text

#389

This is a direct follow up to Story #387

“Well, hello there shithead. So, you finally get to serve me outside some disgusting bookstore theater. I hope you are ready to get really nasty. Get on your fucking knees pig and sniff my foot….

“Take a deep whiff! I’ve been on my motorcycle for two whole days. Haven’t had a shower in that time. So I can’t imagine those dogs are fresh.

“Hey! No one told you to start licking. But since you started, you may continue. You know, when I come over here, you will always start with my feet. I want a foot massage at the same time as you are slurping on my toes. The one thing I allow my pigs to do to me without permission is taking care of my feet: licking, sucking, cleaning, scraping, chewing, and so on.

“Don’t look at me like that. You want to be an intern for the executive team, you got to do what’s expected. Foot worship includes foot care. In fact feel my heel for callouses. Dry hunh? I want you to scrape them off…. Use your teeth.

“Wait you think that’s nasty? Aren’t you the one who seeks me out at Ruby’s bookstore and beg me to use you? And how do I do that? By forcing you to take random cock after random cock in your pussy, and then making you clean them off after they dump a load in you. And I hold your head while those same blue-collar tradesmen bend over you clean out their ass cracks. You drank my piss. You are a pig through and through. And you balk at this? Shithead, please.

“You do as you are told. That electrified collar around your neck is there for a reason. While I don’t get into the pain thing like Ben and Lloyd do. I will use it to get what I want. You got that. The four of us executives have our own thing when it comes to using shitheads like you, but we all believe that you need to be trained to do it all. I’m here today to see how much of a pig we both know you to be. One of those things includes eating the dead skin off my feet.

“Normally foot service is the beginning of giving me a tongue bath, but that will have to wait for now. I need to take a piss.

“Sit back on your heels. Help me with my sweatpants. Whew! Smell that? That’s my jockstrap. I have worn it for a week now.

“What are you doing? Don’t discard my sweats in some heap. Pick them up. Now, sniff my crotch. Inhale the nastiness. You always sniff my crotch anytime you remove pants or underwear, or jock. And’s not just me, but do that to Bryce, Lloyd, and Ben. You should be able to tell the four of us apart from our crotch and ass smells.

“Now sniff the ass too. Even if there’s skid marks, sniff it. My socks, you sniff. My jock, you sniff. My shirt, you sniff. Then you fold it, and respectfully put it down.

“Here’s my shirt. It’s full of dried sweat and armpit stink. I’m going to leave it with you so you can smell me when I’m not here. Rub it on your face, especially the arm pit area. Smelling my own pit gets me rock hard. I love my stink. One thing you need to know, and don’t ever fuck this up. While you are expected to give me a tongue bath, you will never lick my pits. I don’t want some piss drinking pig to contaminate my smell with his licking. Rather I want you rub your face in there.

“Here, get in here. Rub your fucking toilet face in my pit. Feel my oily sweat coat your nose, your mouth, your cheeks, everything…. Yeah pig. Now the other side. Get it in good. You can use your lips, but no licking.

“You are going to stink! But it’s my stink. And that is everything. Pull back, leave some for me to enjoy.

“As I said earlier, I got to piss. Let’s go into the bathroom.

“Kneel in the middle. Lloyd made sure that this bathroom was large enough for some serious fun. Bury your face in my jock. Oh yeah. Like that.

“You ready to drink me? You did that a couple times in the bookstore’s theater in front of those hard-working men. I don’t think the bookstore liked cleaning up the piss. Oh well.

“Put the bottom of my bulge in your mouth. Feel my cockhead under the jockstrap pouch? Tastes nasty hunh? Just wait.

“…Ahhh! Drink all you can pig as it comes through my rank jock. You get the extra benefit of the week-old stale piss being reconstituted.

“Get that mouth back where it belongs. I know it tastes nasty. That’s what I want. But keep drinking. I don’t give a shit that it’s going all over the place. You can clean it up afterwards. I see you want to gag. Don’t you dare.

“Focus on the task at hand. Piss drinking should be second nature to you. If not, it will be. If you are retching at this, then the next thing is really going to make you hurl. I got to take a dump.

“Ha! Ha! Ha! The terror on your face tells me everything and is getting me hard. Now I can’t speak for Lloyd, but I don’t really get into scat. As nasty and disgusting as I can get, it’s not my thing. I will think about it, I will tease you about it, but I’m not into the reality of it.

“No, what I have in store is you giving me a blumpkin, you are going to give me head as I take a dump. Over here. Kneel in front of the toilet….

“I put my jock next to my shirt. After I leave, I want you to wear that jock around your neck. You can enjoy the richness of my smells when you are alone.

“Ok. You have blown me before. You are to do it again now. I’m going to do my thing…. Is this your first time?... Well, just ignore the sound and the smell. And the taste is going to be nasty.

“Oh, look! After two days of being in the hot sun riding on my motorcycle, my cock was very sweaty. I developed some cheese for you. You can probably smell it too.

“Nasty, isn’t it? Well, your job is to clean me up. Now crawl over here…. PIG! Now. I will give you a count of three. One…

“…Well damn! That shock knocked you to the floor…. I guess the collar works. You want another jolt? No, then crawl. Pig! Crawl!

“Good pig. You are learning. Don’t think about it. Just take it in your mouth and start the tonguing…. Good! Ahh!

“…Don’t stop sucking. Look up at me…. Notice I don’t have the remote or my phone in my hand. So, you might be wondering who shocked you.

“Keep in mind, there are cameras everywhere, and that collar can be triggered by accessing the controls on the internet. Now Lloyd, being our company’s Chief Security Officer, routinely checks the system to make sure that only us four men have access.

“Bryce could have zapped you. He likes it when his presence is felt, always reminding the pig of his control. It could have been Ben; he likes to inflicts pain on a whim. Or, it could have been Lloyd, who likes pain and raunch and wanted to see you cleaning off my cock. The thing is that it wasn’t me.

“The other interesting fact is that I’m done.

“Pull off. Get under the rimseat. Time for some tongue fucking and face riding…. What? Don’t give me that look. Toilet paper service is not scat. It has none of what I don’t like. Now you may think differently; I don’t care. Besides, you’ve eaten dirty asses before. I’ve seen the asses I had you lick at the bookstore. I know they weren’t 100% clean. Besides, I know what foods to eat to make using toilet paper merely a courtesy.

“Under the seat. Good pig.

“Look up at my ass. If you remember, this is the first thing you saw of me. You were on your back on that platform near the screen at the bookstore’s theater with your legs up in the air getting plowed by that electrician. I stood over you, showing my ass. Remember what you did? You stuck out your tongue. I squat down on your face and your tongue went to work at that instant. I knew you were an ass eating pig right away.

“Get that tongue going. Oh yeah. Good pig. Your tongue was made for this.

“You know, after I sat on your face and used you a few times, I recognized you immediately at the company picnic a couple of months ago. I knew you were Timothy Stone’s boy. I pointed you out to Lloyd and Ben and they were very interested. Lloyd said he would investigate you and your dad. I gladly bowed out and went to the office.

“I looked at your dad’s work. Well shit. Being the Chief Financial Officer, it took me less than an hour to find how he’s been scamming the company out of a serious amount of money. Lloyd found a lot more. We got things set up for him. Bryce is actually meeting with your dad in Vegas today.

“You don’t need to worry about that. Just keep that tongue action going.

“Too bad you aren’t going to Ruby’s any time soon. But don’t worry. Once you are established as trustworthy, I’ll take you on one of my bike runs as my pig. The guys I ride with like to go to the middle of nowhere and drink, smoke, and fuck. Ben and his boy sometimes join in. We use pain pigs and raunch pigs however we want. Some of those men can get rough and nasty.

“Some of them are local. I should call them over to have you clean out their shitholes for them. We need to get a good gang bang going. That’s my thing, a good ol’ train going.

“Let me see if Lloyd wants to join in. He’s always up for a good fuck.

“…Were you just zapped?... That must have been him.

“Hey Lloyd! I’m sure you hear me! Get your cock down here and let’s spit roast the pig.

“Pig. I know he’s training your pussy muscles to tighten up. For me I want you to be as sloppy as you can get. Remember each that for each cock going in your puss.

“Get your legs up in the air. Keep eating my shitter. I got your ankles. Here, let me put them under my armpits. Now that reveals your pussy to anyone walking in.

“Lloyd! I told you this pig would meet our needs. His pussy is ready for an all afternoon pounding.”

This story continues in Story #394 and Story #400

583 notes · View notes

sunshine-theseus · 9 months

Text

That One Cat Meme | Ona Batlle x Reader

Words: 1.6k Summary: Ona gets angry when you randomly disappear but it’s hard not to find her adorable Warnings: idk overstimulation? Hints of being neurodivergent – based on my experiences as someone who gets very overstimulated and loves routine/thinks they’re ND but isn’t diagnosed with anything. Requested by - @dandelionlibrary - i really hope you like it!

It was a mistake. A very, very big mistake. There was so much noise and light, and people were basically stuck together like glue. It was hot too. How is anyone supposed to survive in this place?

The team had begged me to join them, just once, for a celebratory drink at a club in the heart of Barcelona. After months of refusing, always coming up with excuses and waiting for Ona to arrive home in the sunless hours of the morning, I finally caved. I regretted it the moment the uber turned onto the street. Lights were flashing through the windows and the music could be heard down the block. People were lined up as far as the eye could see. There was no way I was going to have fun.

But I went.

In the beginning it wasn’t so bad. Ona was with me at all times, and we spent a lot of time in our reserved, spacious corner of the club. Until Lucy and Keira grabbed us both by our hands and dragged us onto the dance floor. I tried to wriggle free, but their determination was enough to overpower a tipsy Ona and a vulnerable me.

“Isn’t this fun!?” Ona yells into my ear. I try not to flinch at the additional noise as I nod my head.

A lie.

“Muy divertido!” (very fun)

There was a small moment where I managed to slip away into the bathroom. By some miracle it was empty and seemed rather clean for a night club, so I locked myself in a stall and just sat on top of a toilet lid. I tried to monitor my breathing and block out the bass that travelled through the floor. I couldn’t survive much longer. I needed to come up with an excuse to leave.

I slowly emerge from the bathroom and go find the group of girls huddled in the corner. I had an excuse fully prepared but as I’m making my way, someone grabs me by the waist and starts kissing my neck. I’m about to turn around and wack them with my purse when they begin to talk.

“Mi vida! Where did you go?” the familiar deep voice of my girlfriend echoes from behind me and I relax.

I stop my shaking hands by placing them over her own that rest on my hips.

“Just the bathroom. I think I’m going to head home.” I turn and give her a smile that clearly doesn’t reach my eyes.

She says something else to me, but I can’t focus on anything specific, everything was too overwhelming. Eventually Ona walks off and I’m left in the middle of a crowd again. I can feel every place on my skin where someone makes contact with me, my clothes aren’t sitting well anymore, there are too many sounds, the lights hurt my eyes. I had to get out.

That’s how I found myself curled up in a ball on the rather small balcony of Ona and my apartment. My noise cancelling headphones were securely on my head and I’d successfully rid myself of the horrendously tight and itchy club clothes, switching into one of Ona’s oversized jumpers and some shorts. My phone was turned off and I was just embracing the small bouts of wind and the barely visible stars in the dark night sky.

I don’t expect my girlfriend to be home until much later, so I eventually tuck myself in under the blankets. I loved our bed; it was a lot less overstimulating than a club and usually had the girl of my dreams to hold me tight. Despite the missing final aspect, I drift off to sleep.

I wake up late, Ona by my side as expected. The day off means that my schedule is simply pushed back a few hours and I have spare time to fill.

9:30am – wake up

9:36am – have breakfast + talk to Ona

10:05am – shower and get ready for the day

The middle of the day’s schedule on days off changes depending on who I’m meeting or what I plan on doing. Most of the time it involves Ona.

But Ona didn’t emerge from the room at 9:40am like she usually does, instead showing her face at almost 10. I decide I can push back my day just once to still fit our morning talk. She doesn’t greet me first. Perhaps it’s the hangover, they often mess with our order. She also doesn’t kiss me on the cheek or offer me the glass of orange juice she does every morning, despite always already having a glass in front of me.

“What’s wrong bebé?” the older girl says nothing as she sits down at the table with a bowl to fruit and a glass of water. Odd. Not her normal hangover cure.

“I don’t have anything planned for today so we can just turn the lights off and watch a movie? If your head’s hurting.” I can see her lips twitch at the suggestion, but her face remains stoic.

“Okay, I’m going to have a shower. Maybe we can talk about what’s bothering you afterward?” once again, no reply.

I do just as I tell Ona. The shower is set to the correct temperature and my clothes don’t make me feel like I’m suffocating once I get out. I grab some pillows and blankets to lay out on the couch and turn off the lights, settling for the small lamps on either side of the living room. The curtains help block out the sunlight that would be streaming through the windows.

Ona is still sat at the table, fruit and water finished, scrolling on her phone.

“Coriño? Con qué película quieres empezar?” (Honey? What movie do you want to start with).

Usually, I would avoid encroaching on someone’s personal space when they are upset without them asking, but Ona made it very clear physical touch was something she embraced at all times. That’s what lead me to wrap my arms around her shoulders and press kisses to her cheek gently. Hoping for some reaction.

The only thing I get in return is her arms stubbornly crossing over her chest and her lips forming a pout.

Adorable.

“Are you mad at me coriño?” another kiss is placed at the curve of her jaw.

Her lips pull taut and her cheeks flush pink. It’s hard to be intimidated by someone so cute.

“Sí.” She stands abruptly and the sound of the chair scraping against our wood floor makes me feel sick.

“You disappeared last night without telling anyone. And then you didn’t answer any of my texts! Or the girl’s! Yes, I am angry because I was worried mi vida!” Ona’s arms once again cross over her chest and her foot stamps against the ground.

Despite the sight, I begin to feel bad.

“Ona… I didn’t mean to make you worry. I got overstimulated. Everything was just too much. But I told you I was going to go when we talked outside the bathroom.” A look of confusion is clear on her face, and I sigh, approaching her again.

“You asked me where I had been, I told you I went to the bathroom and that I think I needed to go home. I don’t blame you for forgetting, you’d had a few drinks, no thanks to Mapi.”

“Yo soy estúpida. I am sorry for being angry and ignoring you. And I’m sorry I forced you to go somewhere I knew would probably make you overstimulated.” (I am stupid). Ona’s head dramatically falls forward onto my chest as she groans.

“It’s okay. You’re very adorable when you’re angry.” I press a kiss to the crown of her head.

“No I am not!”

“Sí! Yes you are! You pout and cross your arms and you even stamp your foot. Tu tambien eres muy pequeña.” (you’re also very small). I pull away from Ona and smile at the blush that still radiates from her cheeks.

“You remind me of that little kitten meme.”

“What?” I pull out my phone and search for the photo I have in mind.

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Just that you look very cute.” Another groan falls from her lips, and I laugh as I drag her to the couch.

She falls on top of me and I wrap my arms tightly around her, pressing kisses all around her face.

“You have to watch that silly adventure man movie with me.”

“Indiana Jones? You know I hate that guy. He’s so stupid.”

“But I like him, and you caused me great distress!” her laugh slips past her lips and I can’t help but smile and oblige with her request.

“You can only milk that so many times.”

“Mmmhmm.” Her head props up by her chin resting on my chest, and I lean down, pressing a kiss to her lips.

“Te amo coriño.” I smile brightly down at her as the opening music plays.

“Te amo mi vida.”

Ona turns her head to watch the silly movie, but I can’t look away from her. Her freckles seem to shine brighter despite the lack of light and the slope of her nose is so delicate. The way her eyelashes kiss her cheeks and lines appear by her lips when she laughs at some stupid joke. Her hair is in a messy bun, yet she still looks put together.

I can’t help but fall in love with her all over again.

@Y/N_L/N

@Y/N_L/N do you guys see the resemblance?

ona.batlle there is literally no resembilence stop marialeonn16 i see it

#woso x reader #woso #womens soccer #woso fanfics #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #ona batlle #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle imagine #la liga f #spain wnt

536 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 7 months

Text

Life in the City 3

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bad friends, creep behaviour, abuse of power dynamics, and possible untagged elements. 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: You move to the big city and find yourself swallowed up by its chaos.

Characters: Clark Kent, Thor Odinson, short!reader

Note: A brief reprieve from the snakish prince.

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.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you. No tag list, do not ask for updates.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You sleep lightly, A restless night that leaves your skull fragile. You give up your attempts as the sun rises through the windows. You sit up and stretch, looking around the soft hues limning the walls of Melanie’s apartment.

You stand and move cautiously through the space. You change in the bathroom, doing your best not to make too much noise as you go out to grab your bag. You brush your teeth and tidy up. You’ll have a shower when you get home.

You emerge and look around, making sure you haven’t left anything out. You take the time to clean up the snacks from the night before and place everything away in the cupboard. You know Melanie’s on a diet but it feels wrong to take it all back with you.

As you zip up your bag, a shadow darkness the hallway and you look up as Clark tussles his dark hair and stretches. You glimpse at him briefly, mortified to find him shirtless, his hard torso exposed above the low elastic of his sweatpants.

“Morning,” his voice is silty with sleep, “what… are you leaving already?”

“Well, I… I should head off. Get out of your way,” you shrug as you speak quietly, “plus, I got chores…”

“Oh, do you need a ride,” he lets his hand drag down his chest as you shift awkwardly, clinging to your knapsack.

“Um, that’s nice, but I’ll just catch the bus–”

“The bus?” He echoes, “let me throw on a shirt and get myself together. I can’t let you just sneak off.”

“Erm, I guess… I could wait and say goodbye to Melanie, I just thought–”

“Yeah, she won’t be up for a while,” he drops his arms, his chest puffed proudly, “you know, she drank a lot. She wasn’t feeling too well. You didn’t hear her?”

“What? I…” you blink and avoid his gaze, “I was asleep, I didn’t hear anything.”

“Oh, yeah, she was sick in the middle of the night. Pretty bad. I tell her not to drink on an empty stomach.”

“Ah, uh, yeah, that’s awful,” you sputter, “I… I’m sorry to rush out, it’s just I got a lot to catch up.”

“No problem. I’ll save you waiting for the bus,” he says, “won’t be long at all.”

“Oh, okay, but–”

“Really, it’s no trouble. If I don’t wake her up with a real latte, she’ll bite my head off,” he chuckles, “hungover Melanie is not nice Melanie.”

“Right,” you try to laugh but it’s more a croak, “I’ll just be… here then.”

🏙️

You sit in the car silently. The tension is roiling. You don’t know why you agreed. You could have insisted; the bus won’t be long…

Too late for that. You’re stuck now. At least there’s not much traffic. You hug your bag in your lap, anxious to just get home. He drives patiently despite the empty streets, taking his time as he turns onto the next street.

“So, chores, sounds exciting,” he teases.

“Mm, yeah, I guess,” you agree squeakily.

“What else are Saturday’s for? Guess you’re headed back to work on Monday?”

You nod, “mhmm.”

“How is it? Work? You making lots of friends?”

You almost feel like a kid. It reminds you of when your dad would pick you up from school and ask what trouble you go into. You twiddle your fingers against your bag.

“Um, well, everyone sort’ve keeps to themselves,” you eke out, “there’s a lot of work so…”

“You’ll settle in. I’m sure you’ll find lots of friends,” he slows and flips on his blinker, “I mean, you already have.” You tilt your head and glance at him in confusion, “me.”

“Oh, uh, sure, yeah, sorry, I’m tired,” you laugh nervously.

“So,” he rolls into the lot of the Coffee Bean, “want something?”

“You don’t have to–”

“I’m stopping by anyway, no biggie,” he insists, “coffee, tea?”

You pick at the zipper of your bag. He’s so nice. Too nice. But that’s not a real problem, you’re just making it into one. Last night… what did he do so wrong? Pull a blanket over you? It was cold.

“Sure, could I just get an iced green tea, please and thank you?” You unzip your bag and fish around.

He steers into the drive through and puts in his order at the speaker, listing off Melanie’s complicated lite syrup, half-foam, coconut milk monstrosity at the end. You pull out your wallet as he’s directed to the window.

“My treat,” he insists.

“Really, it’s just three bucks.”

“Exactly,” he insists, “you brought all those treats last night, the least I can do is buy you an iced tea.”

“Thanks,” you sniff and look out the window.

“I’ll make sure Mel gives you a call. You two can hash this out,” he stops and waits at the window, “she needs a friend like you. All the others are so… well, they’re not as nice as you.”

“Maybe, I… if she wants to call. I don’t want to bug her.”

“Bug her? Oh, sweetie, she doesn’t deserve a friend like you,” he says, “but I’m being selfish and I think you’d be a good influence.”

You nod again, put off by his tone. It’s like he’s a parent the way he talks about Melanie. Almost like he’s trying to mould her into something. Someone like him, with his name and his looks, you’re sure he could find someone who already fits right in.

The window opens and he takes the tray of drinks. He hands you yours before sliding the other two into the cup holders. He flings the cardboard tray onto the backseat and continues through the exit. He idles at the signs.

“I forgot, which way am I going?”

You point him in the right direction, nearly sighing in relief. You’re almost home. You just want to hide away in your shame and never be perceived again.

🏙️

You’re not very surprised when Melanie doesn’t call. Not on Saturday or Sunday. You’re grateful that she doesn’t. You’re trying to forget about the movie night gone wrong. It’s probably better off. You’ve both changed a lot since high school, or maybe you haven’t changed enough.

You go through your usual. You’re not a liar, you do have chores. Dishes, laundry, floors, dusting… You keep yourself busy in an effort to block out the memory of the night. You won’t be watching Never Been Kissed ever again, that’s for sure.

Monday morning greets you with a new start but it all feels so stale. The routine is the same as the weeks before. Wake up, green tea in a thermos, pack your lunch, make yourself presentable, and out the door to catch the bus.

You enjoy the route, letting it lull your pre-work jitters. You’ve been there going on a month and somehow you still feel out-of-place. It’s not like before, where you knew all the people at your work study, or in high school where the associates in the department store joked around more than they ever did the price changes.

You stroll up to the building, slowing behind a pair of men in tailored suits. You feel like a minnow in a sea of sharks. You follow them inside as they drop the door on you. They’re important. They’re chatting about an important meeting and business trip next week. You’ll be dutifully perched at your desk, roving through spreadsheets.

The salesmen are higher up the chain than you in the ecosystem of the company. You’re somewhere along the lower-middle ground, below the lions and the hyenas. You’re off with Timon and Pumbaa, trying not to get eaten.

You step onto the elevator with them, shrinking down. You’re invisible to them. You’re not Stella in her red-soled stilettos and tight pencil skirts, or Ginnifer in her high-buns and sleek pantsuits. You feel like a little girl playing dress up even in your simple powder blue cardigan and flowered skirt.

The elevator bings and the men nearly bowl you over as they brush past you on each side. You get off after them and scurry away to your desk. You see Stella now, sipping a tall latte as she purrs at Tony. She struts down the hall ahead of him as she calls back about some expense report.

You tuck your bag under your desk and get yourself situated. You plunk down your thermos beside your mouse and boot up. You roll your ankles under the desk, your Keds soft-soled but comfortable. You can’t run for the bus in heels.

You steel yourself for another day buried in Excel columns. You sign in and push back the cap on the lid of your cup. Steam escapes and you let the heat escape before you dare taste it. You pull up your inbox and scroll through your emails. Your task list is ever longer by the day.

Your work isn’t unimportant. You give the analytics to the salesman and the big suits. You provide the numbers for their strategy but for them, all that is menial. That’s not the real meat of the company. You and all the other ants in the hill are dispensable.

You push your chair back as you reach into your bag for your notebook. As you do, the back collides with something. You quickly roll back in, knocking your head on the edge of the desk as you do. You rub your brow as you spin to face the obstruction.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you babble up at the tall man.

He’s big, blond, and burly, and wears a suit that demarcates him as one of them. You don’t need an introduction, everyone knows who he is. The COO is memorable for more than his title. His booming voice and towering size set him apart from all the other men in their leather shoes and skinny ties.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you stand but still have to crane your neck to look at him, “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“That’s quite alright,” he smiles broadly, “are you alright? You took quite a bump.”

“Oh,” you drop your hand from your head, “yeah, I’m fine, sir. Thank you. I was just… looking for something.”

“So long as you’re alright. However, I am the safety officer, I could have a look,” he offers.

“Really, I’m fine,” you insist, “I didn’t mean to do that–”

“I didn’t mind so much,” he assures you, “I don’t know you. You’re new. Leah’s replacement?”

“Um, I think,” you look at your desk, “I wouldn’t know.”

“Of course not,” he accepts, “Thor Odinson.”

He holds out his large hand. You consider it and give him your own. Your hand is tiny in comparison as he easily wraps his fingers around it. You supply your name with a squeak.

“Ah, I like that,” he praises, “well, you have a wonderful day. And welcome to the company.”

“Yes, sir,” you rescind your hand as he releases it. His cologne wafts towards you, vanilla underscored by something woodsy.

“Thor,” he affirms.

You repeat his name and clutch your hands together. He lingers, looking you up and down, then turns on his heel. You watch him go before you sit.

You want to hold your head and hide. What did he think of you? This girl in her thin wool cardigan and lace-up sneakers. You don’t know why you care so much. He’s your boss but not directly. He’s probably already forgotten about you.

You cringe and swirl your mouse around. Focus. You’re at work. This isn’t high school or college. This isn’t about making friends and all that. It doesn’t matter what he thinks of you, your work matters.

You lean into the screen and squint at the tight boxes, increasing their size as you open a new report. For all your studying, you never saw yourself sitting there fighting with numbers all day. Percentages, rates, medians, mean… how boring.

You jolt as you feel your bag buzz against your leg. You look behind you before you push your chair out this time and bring your bag into your lap. You retrieve your notebook as you remember the cause of your first folly then fish out your phone.

You bring down the menu and set it to silent. Before you hit lock, you see the message beaming back at you. It’s from Melanie.

‘Hey girl. Let’s talk.’

You frown. You’d already accepted that Mel was done with you. She was always good at holding a grudge, even for the slightest offence. You wonder if Clark really had talked to her. You leave it unread and tuck your phone away, dropping your bag back to the floor and shoving it away with your toes.

As you return your attention to your monitor, you sense something behind it. There, across the room, you meet Thor’s eyes as he stares at you. He has a red mug of coffee in his hand as he sips. He pulls the brim away from his lips and grins, sending a wink in your direction.

You blink and look over your shoulder. Who is he looking at? You turn back to face him again. He’s gone. Ah, whoever it was, must’ve caught up to him.

You shake off the collision and the text message. Work!

232 notes · View notes

sosomonimagines · 23 days

Text

House's girl, part one — House x Daughter! Reader

Summary: House learns to love his daughter.

Warnings: diet talk and harassment, but nothing too in-depth

Author's note: English is not my native language. I have an idea for a saga about this, but I want to see if anyone likes it first 😭😭

Part two:

SUNDAY

You rarely saw your father.

By the time you were born, your parents had already divorced, and he chose to remain largely uninvolved in your life. You knew your grandparents and received some Christmas and birthday presents, but nothing that made a lasting impact. Most of the time, he lived as though he weren’t a father at all.

Yet here you were, standing in front of his apartment, holding a suitcase with a few changes of clothes. Your mother had become involved with a man of questionable character — a manipulator with a minor criminal record that included harassment. You had reported him for making comments that made you uncomfortable, but your mother, who was deeply entangled with him, dismissed your concerns as lies. Consequently, the women's police station decided to send you to live with your father, as you had no other close relatives.

You knocked on door 221B and waited for about five minutes. “He must be trying to escape through the window, but luckily he’s limping,” you thought with a hint of irony.

“You actually came,” your father said as he opened the door.

“Sorry I didn’t choose to become a homeless person,” you replied.

He stepped aside to let you in. The apartment was surprisingly tidy, which took you aback; your mother had often complained about his disorganization. You couldn’t help but wonder if he had made an effort to clean up for your arrival.

“You’ll stay in the guest room; it’s the second door on the right.”

“Why do you have a guest room if you never have guests?”

“Sometimes, the prostitutes prefer not to sleep in the same room as me, especially when I hire many.”

“Did you know I’m only fourteen and that sexual jokes and exposure to excessive affection can damage my mind, like abuse?”

“Good thing it wasn’t a joke.”

You sighed deeply and walked to the guest room. It was a sparse space with just a bed and a dresser. As you quickly unpacked your clothes, you realized there was no suitable place to study— something you would need to address soon, especially with a math exam approaching.

“Where am I going to study?” you asked your father, who was sitting on the couch with a glass of whiskey. “You’re drinking at eight-thirty in the morning?” you added, somewhat perplexed.

“Are you studying at eight-thirty in the morning?” he retorted with irony. “Study in the kitchen; there’s a table there.”

“But there’s no door between the living room and the kitchen.”

“That’s really a shame.”

“If you watch TV, the noise will distract me. I have Sensory Processing Disorder and need a quiet environment.”

“I’ll buy a desk for your room tomorrow,” he said.

“But I need to study today.”

“One day won’t make a difference.”

“It does when you want to get into Harvard.”

“You’re in middle school; nobody studies in middle school.”

“Actually, I’m in high school. I’m three years ahead.”

“Oh my God, you’re so annoying,” he exclaimed, getting up and heading to his room. “Study in the kitchen in peace. I’ll stay in my room.”

“Don’t you have to go to the hospital?” you asked.

“Unfortunately, no,” he replied, slamming the door behind him. You didn’t mind the harsh tone; you had come for a place to stay, not for a father.

•••

MONDAY

You woke up at six-thirty, the same time as your father. With two bathrooms in the house, you both managed to get ready without crossing paths.

When you met in the kitchen for breakfast, a heavy silence lingered. He served himself without offering you anything, but you had learned the previous day that if you didn’t help yourself, you’d end up going hungry.

You helped yourself to Pop Tarts and a cup of black coffee.

“Aren’t you a bit young for coffee?” your father asked.

“It’s a legal drug, and there are no age restrictions,” you replied.

He didn’t respond, and silence settled between you again. The next sound was the doorbell, followed by the creak of the door opening.

“Hey, House,” a man said as he entered. Seeing you, he paused, visibly shocked. “Is this your daughter?”

“Touché,” your father replied, his tone a blend of sarcasm and resignation.

James Wilson knew that House had a daughter and understood that, despite his reluctance, he cared about her. However, seeing you there was still a surprise.

“My name is James Wilson. I’m a friend of your father’s,” James said, extending his hand for a handshake.

“My dad has friends?” you asked, surprised, making James laugh.

“Alright, alright, that was a really funny joke,” House interrupted. “Let’s head to the hospital; I don’t want to be late.”

“You’re always late, House,” James retorted. “We’ll drop your daughter off at school first.”

“Seriously? Thank you so much!” you said, thrilled, and dashed to grab your backpack.

As you left, James turned to House. “Don’t look at me like that. I know you care about her.”

•

You arrived home at four in the afternoon, utterly exhausted. After studying late into the night and barely catching glimpses of your father throughout the day, you felt the weight of the long hours. Whenever he did venture into the kitchen, it was in silence, leaving you to wonder whether he was avoiding conversation or simply giving you space.

Heading straight to the kitchen, you rummaged through the sparse offerings. With little more than cereal and Pop Tarts available, you poured yourself some cereal — without milk, as there was none. As you were eating, the doorbell rang.

“Yes?” you called out, opening the door to find a tall, burly man holding a clipboard.

“Gregory House?” he asked.

“This is his house. I’m his daughter.”

“He requested that a study desk be delivered here.”

You smiled to yourself as you let the man in. He proceeded to set up the desk in your room, a small but meaningful gesture from your father.

•••

TUESDAY

You hadn’t seen your father the day before. When he came home, you were already asleep. Besides setting up the study desk, he called later to let you order some food, a small sign that he was making an effort, however minimal.

The next morning, as you both sat down for breakfast, you decided to strike up a conversation, unsure of how receptive he would be.

“How was the hospital yesterday?” you asked.

“Hmm?” he responded, looking up, surprised by the question.

“Any interesting cases?” you pressed.

“A girl with cancer having hallucinations.”

“Was the tumor pressing on the brain?” you inquired.

“No, the tumor was in the heart.”

“…A clot?” you guessed.

“Exactly.” House paused, impressed by your accuracy. He knew you were intelligent, having skipped grades and attended a prestigious school on a scholarship. However, he hadn’t realized your aptitude for medicine. “Do you like medicine?”

“A lot,” you replied. “My dream has been to become a doctor since I was nine. I attend pre-med camps, study whenever I can, read extensively about it, and watch medical shows to guess the diagnoses.”

“I enjoy doing that too,” he said, taking a sip of coffee.

“I was wondering if I could read your medical books.”

“If you can.”

“My reading level is quite advanced. I might not understand everything right away, but I’ll research what I don’t get. And my dad’s a doctor, so I can ask him about it,” you said with a sideways smile, almost catching a glimpse of a smile on his lips.

Moments later, Wilson arrived to take them out. As he dropped you off at school, House mentioned to him that you were aspiring to a medical career and were very intelligent. It was the first time Wilson saw House display genuine pride.

•

When you arrived home that day, it was the first time in days you could truly relax, free from looming exams or relentless homework. You took a shower and settled into the living room, turning on a cartoon — your favorite way to unwind.

As you were engrossed in an episode of The Flintstones, your father came in.

“Aren’t you studying?” he asked, surprised. It was the first time he’d seen you doing anything other than studying since you arrived. To him, it seemed you were engaged in it constantly.

“My exams are over for now. When I finish a round of exams, I take a day off. And you, why are you home early?”

“There was nothing to do.”

“Did the patient die?”

“No, he recovered.”

“Congratulations.”

“Why?”

“For not having killed him.” House wasn’t sure if you were being serious or sarcastic, but he didn’t care.

He limped over to the refrigerator, grabbed a beer, and sat down next to you. This surprised you; you had expected him to retreat to his room.

“That cartoon isn’t from your era,” he remarked.

“Yes, but I prefer the old ones. Do you want to change the channel?”

“Don’t be overly nice; it’s annoying. You want to watch the cartoon and you got here first, so go ahead.”

You nodded and the room fell into a comfortable silence. Occasionally, you glanced at your father, noticing him getting caught up in the cartoon, even suppressing laughter at some scenes.

After a while, he asked, “Want to order a pizza?”

“I ate out yesterday.”

“So what?”

“My mom only lets me eat out once a week at most. She says it’s unhealthy and makes you fat.”

“Good to know your mother’s paranoias haven’t changed. I’m a doctor, and you know what’s worse than eating out? Not eating at all. Do you want pizza?”

“I guess so.”

“Then call and order it.”

You followed his instructions, ordering your favorite pizza. When it arrived, you ate it in the living room—another thing your mother would never allow. After the cartoon ended, your father switched to a medical drama. You watched in silence until, midway through an episode, he paused and looked at you.

“So, what do you think?” he asked.

“Pardon?” you replied, confused.

“Sudden and inexplicable nail disintegration, colorful and shiny mucous lesions in the mouth, temporary and recurrent inability to recognize faces, rapid and unpredictable changes in blood pressure, and intense heat sensation without fever. What is it?”

“Are you serious?"

“You said you’re good at this, right?”

You paused, considering.

“Stiff-Person Syndrome?”

“I need you to be sure.”

“Stiff-Person Syndrome. It’s a rare autoimmune condition that can lead to progressive muscle rigidity and pain, along with various neurological symptoms like motor difficulties and changes in sensory perception.”

“Great. You’re better than my team,” he said.

You watched two more episodes before falling asleep. In the middle of the night, you woke to find yourself covered and with your foot adjusted for comfort. You smiled, knowing that your father had made sure you were tucked in for a good night’s rest.

#house m.d #house x reader #imagine #gregory house #gregory house x reader #james wilson #james wilson x reader #fanfiction #house m.d x reader

113 notes · View notes

thealtoduck · 1 year

Text

Homesick

Dick Grayson x BatCat!Bro Reader (Platonic)

Batfamily x BatCat!Bro Reader

Warnings: semi-angst, reader is sad and gets pissed off, fluff ending…

BatCat!Bro: Masterlist

Summary: Reader is sad because he misses his mom…

——

Dick was worried, something seemed off with you. At first he just thought you were being a regular teenager going through his angsty phase. But soon he realised there was more too it than that.

The family was having dinner and were sat around the large dining table. Dick was sat beside you and noticed you weren’t eating you were just looking down on it picking at it with your fork. Dick leaned closer to you and whispered ”Hey Y/n, you feeling alright?”.

You looked at Dick with a small smile and said a quick ”Yeah, I’m fine, just not hungry”. Then it was quiet for a while, until Jason said ”Come on, Y/n, eat something”. ”I said i’m not hungry” you said getting slightly irretated .

”Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed” Stephanie commented making you roll your eyes. ”Or he’s starting his moody teenager phase” Tim added which was the last straw as you angrily got up from the table and left. Dick looked at Jason, Stephanie and Tim and asked ”Really?” as the three looked confused. Damian then asked ”Can someone pass me the salt?” as if nothing happened.

Later that night Dick came up to Y/n’s room check on him, he also brought a plate of food, incase he had gotten hungry. The door was half open when he stopped outside and Dick asked ”Y/n? Can i come in?”… No answer came.

Dick slowly entered his bedroom to see it was completely empty. He looked around and saw that a window was open, there was some dirt on the window frame. Dick immediately went downstairs to the others and asked ”Has anyone seen Y/n?”.

”Not since dinner” Jason said as the others shook their heads or uttered a quick ”no”. Dick hurried outside yelling ”Y/n!”… Again no answer. Dick went inside told the others to start checking around the manor. Then he went and got his jacket and car keys and got in to his car.

Dick took out his phone and tried calling but no one picked up, so he called Bruce and asked him to track your phone. Then he got a text from Bruce saying ”He’s in the east end” and he drove off. A couple of minutes later he got another text from Bruce saying ”He’s in his old apartment”.

Dick stopped outside and went in to the building and looked until he found your old apartment. He knocked and heard footsteps inside and then the door unlocked. It opened slowly revealing Y/n. ”Dick, what are you doing here?” he asked in a saddened tone.

”Really? You leave home without telling anyone you’re leaving or where you’re going and expect us not to worry?” Dick scolded. ”I’m sorry” you apologised. Dick then asked ”What are you doing here anyway?”. ”Come inside” you said without answering the question.

Dick did as told and entered the apartment. It was dusty like someone hadn’t lived here for a while. He saw a vaccum cleaner in the living room as if you were in the middle of cleaning up the place. Dick sent a quick text to Bruce and the others saying he had found you.

”You want anything? Coffee? Tea?” you asked as you went in to the kitchen. ”Sure some tea would be nice” Dick answered as he looked around the place. He saw a room that was lit and went inside to check it out.

It was a bedroom, it had was decorated with posters, pictures, etc… ”Y/n was this your room?” Dick asked as you appeared behind him. ”Yeah” you said simply. ”You know i haven’t decorated my room in the manor, cause i thought that soon enough i’d be back here with mom” you explained.

You then turned walked back to the kitchen to pour up two cups of tea. You then brought them to the living room and sat down on the couch as Dick then joined you. ”It’s been over a year since she left and i’ve seen her once for 20 minutes” you told Dick and took a sip of tea.

He didn’t even need to ask to know that you were talking about Selina. ”I’m sorry” Dick said putting a supportive hand on your shoulder. ”The worst part is, I don’t even know if she’s alive or not, she could’ve been dead for months and i wouldn’t know” you told him.

”I’m sorry if i worried you guys but i just needed to come here and… feel… feel like i was home, as if mom would be climbing through the window at any moment to show me what she scored tonight” you continued.

”Don’t get me wrong, i love living at the manor with everyone but part of me wishes she took me with her just so i could know if she’s safe” you finished as a single tear was running down your cheek. Dick brought you in to a hug and whispered and understanding ”I get it”.

”How about we sleep here tonight and we can do whatever you and your mom used to do here together? Okay?” Dick suggested with a gentle smile. You smiled and nodded and the two of you, made popcorn and watched a movie together. Then you went to bed, letting Dick sleep on the couch.

In the morning you packed some stuff from your room in to a backpack as you and Dick were about to leave. As you put you shoes on Dick said ”If you want, you can come back here whenever you want. Just let us know first, i’ll even give you a ride and stay with you if you want me too”.

After those words you pulled Dick in to a tight hug, which sort off suprised him, you like Damian wasn’t known to be very affectionate. ”Thanks Dick, that means a lot” you said and the two of you left the apartment.

When you got in to Dick’s car you got a notification on your phone. It was a text from the same unknown number your mother had used before when contacting you. It read ”Don’t worry my little kitten, i’ll be back soon. Love you”. Just then Dick drove off back to the manor.

#batfamily x male reader #batfam x male reader #dc x male reader #dc comics x male reader #batfam x male!reader #x male reader #male reader #x male!reader #batboys x male reader #batcatbro reader #batcatbro male reader #selina kyle x son reader #selina kyle x son!reader #bruce wayne x son reader #bruce wayne x son!reader #dick grayson x brother!reader

561 notes · View notes

oracleact · 1 year

Text

« nothing on me »

bayverse raph x reader / fluff + angst

notes: 1.8k words, first person pov, established relationship, gender neutral reader (no pronouns used,) details of injuries and tending to said injuries.

a knock on the window at 3am? that only means one thing: the turtles are here. smiling, I rub the remnants of sleep from my eyes and hop out of bed to open up the curtain. only one turtle faces me at the window though - raphael.

I open the window and help his wide frame step down from the ledge, but my previous smile fades fast when raph groans in pain as he steps onto the floor.

“raph, what’s wrong? where are the rest of the boys? what happened?” I speak as fast as possible to try and get to his answer, worry eating away at me with each second that passes.

my raph is the mass strength and rough hand amongst the turtles. he can handle a lot of damage since he always manages to deal out more than what is done onto him. seeing him bent over, actually using my arm for support and not simply holding me because he wants to, groaning in genuine pain rather than letting out his usual gruff noises of acknowledgment - that scares me. it terrifies me when I don’t know what has happened.

“I told them to check on dad,” he begins breathlessly, “I needed you. it’s really bad this time.”

my eyes widen and I hurry him to the side of my bed, the mattress creaking under his weight. I grasp his face in my hands to check him over, turning his head every which way, but see nothing apart from a few new scratches on his skin.

“what do you mean ‘really bad,’ raph? you’re scaring me.”

“my—“ he lifts his arm and tries to reach for the back of his shell, failing miserably and almost howling out in pain, “my shell, sweetheart. I haven’t seen it yet but I heard it crack and this pain is too much for it to just be taped up.”

I scuttle around his large form and am immediately hit with the sight of a deep crack in the middle of his shell. he was right to come straight to me with this one. he should always come to me with injuries but is too stubborn most of the time and rides out the pain: ‘it may look bad to you but it’s nothing on me.’

when the boys started to properly use their skills outside of the lair, with the risk of larger injuries increasing, I began to research and teach myself how to handle ones specific to these mutants. thanks to many in depth articles about turtle care, I have safely cleaned and covered up small cracks before. the only difference between the boys and ‘normal’ turtles in regards to care like this is their size - it takes longer and requires more focus to clean cracks, ensuring that they can heal appropriately over time. although tonight’s damage will take double that, and maybe more.

“oh raph, oh my…how? wait, don’t answer that. I’m doing my first aid stuff then we can talk about it, okay?” he nods with a sad smile and all I can do is reach out and cup his cheek, returning the expression he gave me. he moves my hand to his lips for a quick kiss before I start scurrying off to grab what I need.

let’s see - chlorohexidine solution, q-tips, cotton pads, adhesive patches and a towel. is that all I need? I have no idea right now; I’m so scared to touch him that I feel like stalling for as long as I can.

I walk slowly back to where he sits on the edge of my bed, his head resting in one hand as the other rubs at his tired eyes. I lay down all that I grabbed from the bathroom before taking a deep breath and sitting down behind him. the room is silent for a couple of minutes after that, my heart beating loudly in my ears. I can’t break my anxious stare away from the crack in his beautiful carapace.

“hey…” raph speaks ever so softly to get my attention.

“yeah— sorry. I’m sorry,” I feel tears begin to form in my eyes. I hate seeing him hurt like this. “I’m going to fix you up. I promise I’ll fix this. I’ll touch around your shell, away from the crack, and you tell me how it feels. let me know how much the pain has spread.”

he gestures ‘yes’ to me but with a frowned brow, “don’t cry, love. everything is okay. I’m raphael, remember? this is nothing on me!”

but I can see it - I can see the pain written on his face, the way his eyes look misty. I don’t want to push him to talk nor do I want to directly acknowledge the pain I can see; I don’t want to break his protective wall at a time like this. it wouldn’t be fair to do so. I wipe my tears and get straight to work instead.

my small hand reaches out for him, gently patting around the edges of his shell then smoothing over the surface, “that’s not bad at all. it just feels tingly, like the nice kind of tingly you give me.” I giggle at him. it’s a relief that the shell hasn’t shattered or anything and he can feel my hand like always.

I’ve spent so many nights tracing over the faint patterns of his plastron and committing the texture to memory. it helps calm him after a stressful training day or when he can’t sleep. it secretly calms me too because it’s just us in those moments, the rest of the world fading away and leaving only raph and I. there’s no need to jump away from my hold to save new york when my touch melts away the city completely. nothing can break us out of that warm paradise as long as we are together.

despite the touch test going well, the cleaning of his wounds will definitely be painful since the crack is open and noticeable. I pour some of the solution onto a q-tip and tell raph to start breathing slowly and deeply. I help him set a pace for it before I begin to clean.

he hisses in pain when the piece of cotton comes in contact with the wound and my tears start to flow again, “I know baby, but this part is important,” I sniffle and reach my free hand for his, “use me to balance yourself.”

“I’ll break your little hand,” there is a fracture in his voice as he speaks but he still manages to let out a chuckle with his words.

“breathe and squeeze, raph, don’t worry about me.”

and so he did - each time I dipped the cotton into the crack he inhaled and exhaled quickly whilst grasping my hand in his. I rubbed my thumb over his rough skin in an attempt to ground us both over and over again.

“one last clean and then I’ll patch it up and be done for tonight.” he lets out a loud sigh at that, obviously glad that the stinging will be over soon. I hear him lowly whimper but force a cough after in an attempt to hide the noise. once again I don’t press him on it, I just kiss the back of his hand to let him know it’s alright.

the last step is to cut adhesive patches to fit the crack, making sure to leave small gaps at the ends to allow air to flow through. this process isn’t all that different from putting a bandaid on a human arm, and thank goodness for that. I want to do everything I can to help raph, to ease his pain, so this being a somewhat ‘easy’ task to complete means luck is on my side right now.

with the last piece secure I get up from the bed to face him again, giving him a small smile to let him know it’s done. I slip myself between his legs and reach out to untie his bandana. his eyes close as he presses his head onto my chest to give me access to the tie at the back.

sliding the cloth from his face, I set it on the bed and wipe underneath his eyes; he looks so worn out. my fingers move down to draw along the scars from previous battles and to check over any new cuts, the pad of my thumb eventually landing on the most prominent scar across his upper lip. my raph, my hero, our hero…with the scars to prove it all.

“give it a week and see how the shell starts to heal. if we need to do more then I’m ready for that. I’ve done my research, you’re looking at a certified mutant turtle nurse,” I wink at him as he laughs and nuzzles further into my hold.

he looks up at me with those gorgeous eyes, the light of the moon catching in them. he may be hurt but he’s here with me and healing in my arms, and I’ll hold this man forever to show him how much he means to me. he’s looking at me in the same way - in awe of what’s in front of him - both of us dumbly grinning at each other. although, he does break eye contact when a yawn suddenly comes bursting out.

“do you want to talk about what happened, or do you want to catch some z’s first?”

“hmm…as much as I want to tell you about how much of a badass I am, I really want to crash.”

he moves to lay on his back before I catch his shoulders with high pitched squeak, “shell!” I whisper-yell at him. his lips form an ‘o’ and I shake my head. only raph could forget about his injuries that quickly.

I slip into the bed first and hold out my arms, beckoning him to follow and to lay on his stomach. he does so almost instantly, getting comfy against me and wrapping his arms around my waist.

“thank you for everything. I trust you with my life, you know.”

“and I trust you with mine, big red.”

I’m seemingly stuck staring down at him, just in stupid awe once more. watching how his eyes are effortlessly closed, evident that he is exhausted, with a faint smile playing on his lips as he shifts around to find the best snoozing position. his shell is now what catches the attention of the moon and I feel satisfied with my work on the crack. I’m still worried but the patch looks good and secure from afar so I’ll take it for it now.

I’m so happy that this brave and unstoppable mutant turtle trusts me with his open wounds, with his physical and emotional scars, with his love and being. this life of ours is crazy in so many ways but I wouldn’t ask for anything to change. well, less wounds here and there would be nice but that might be asking for too much.

#my first turtles story! I don’t normally write fics I have so many ideas that just play out in my head but I’m glad I wrote this one down #I think I’ve only ever posted one other fic on this account before (a beel one) so hopefully I’ll write some more in the future #well if people like them then I’ll post more hhh I have no idea how to gauge the quality of my own writing at all #oracleact chats #tmnt #bayverse tmnt #bayverse raph #bayverse raphael #bayverse raph x reader #bayverse raph imagine #tmnt raph x reader #tmnt x reader #tmnt imagine #I don’t actually know how to tag this…will this do? :<#blossom 💌 raph

669 notes · View notes

arachine · 1 year

Text

. . . tender wounds & soft kisses (won't you stay?) ; i. midoriya

── ˚₊✩‧₊ synopsis :: trouble comes knocking on your doorstep seeking salvation. the question is, do you answer it?

── ˚₊✩‧₊ general tags :: pro!hero au, angst, fluff

── ˚₊✩‧₊ content warnings :: fem!reader, mentions of blood + death but nothing explicit, reader patches his wounds, intense feelings, making out, 3k words

── ˚₊✩‧₊ notes :: part one of two (?) of a future mini series :3 next part will include filth pinky promise !

it doesn’t matter how many times he shows up at your door like this—battered and bruised, that is. you’ll never get used to it. you want to turn him away, to tell him he’d have better luck going to a hospital—but—it’s half past midnight, and it’s cold, and it’s raining, and…he doesn’t know where else to go.

he knows you’re tired. can see it in the way you lean your head against the door frame, and the way you blink up at him with indifference, as if your eyes are telling him “come in now or i’ll leave you out in the cold”.

with an appreciative smile, he enters through the door and brushes past you. takes his heavy, muddy boots off, one by one, and leaves them to sit in the foyer where they contrast starkly against your pristine-perfect ones.

it’s a sight that’s starting to become all too familiar to you. sometimes it looks like there’s another person living here, like there’s someone to share the space with, but you know his presence is only ephemeral. you’d wish it weren’t, though. especially since he already knew the floor plan of your apartment like the back of his hand.

even in the pitch-black dark, his steps are confident. calculated. familiar. he dredges down the corridor with impressive precision, and yields absolutely no qualms of bumping into your many awkwardly placed pieces of furniture. doesn’t even trip over the new coffee table you recently purchased. because instead of him doing the bumping and tripping, you do.

izuku comes to a sudden standstill in the middle of the living room, and you walk right into his back, knocking him forward a bit from the force.

“what’s wrong?” you question, trying not to let yourself sound too concerned, but it comes out more tender than anything. he breathes out a quick nothing, and continues the trek to your bathroom, wincing through gritted teeth while clutching his side.

if he’s in pain, he won’t say it. which is another reason why you’ve come to resent his spontaneous fix-me-up visits. impatiently, you side step by him and rush to the bathroom. turn on the light and stand at the door frame with your arms crossed over your chest, like you were practically urging him to quicken his pace so he could be out of here faster.

but he takes his time. because despite the sharp-ache in his ribs, and the sting above his brow, he gets to see you. izuku midoriya gets to be touched by you. to be cleaned by you. patched up by you. sinewy muscles and bruised flesh, all taken care of by—you.

so, yeah. he takes his sweet time getting to the bathroom—even if he’s five steps from getting there. he’ll make it ten. anything to make this last longer.

“come on, i’m tired,” you say, turning on your heels to open the cabinet. “i’d like to get back into my comfy bed as soon as possible.”

when you take a look inside the cabinet, you frown at the shortage of supplies you’re met with. which, honestly, shouldn’t even really surprise you—considering he was the one responsible for its barren state.

regardless, you pluck what you can of what’s left, then set them down on the counter in the order of which you’ll use them: clean rag, soap, ointment, steri-strips, and gauze (in case there’s a bigger wound somewhere under his tattered clothes).

from your peripheral, you can see his silhouette appear from out of the darkness, and you watch intently through the mirror as his now fully-illuminated body trudges behind you. god, he looks worse than he did standing under the light of your front porch.

well, that’s what you think. prior, a good portion of his face had been enshrouded by night, so you couldn’t really make out anything worth noting—even if you wanted to, at least.

but now you bear witness to the hues of red that dance across his face; both from the inflamed capillaries underneath his skin, and the blood ribboning down the gash above his brow.

“you know the drill.” your gaze is pointed, and you eye him through the mirror while dousing the rag under the warm running water.

he comes to a halt in front of the toilet, grimacing once, then clutches his side protectively before bending down to sit. you note that too.

“so…” a beat. “you gonna need help taking that off? or—“

“i’ve got it,” the green haired boy quips, moving to retract his arm from his side.

you throw your hands up in defeat, and reposition yourself to lean against the sink’s ledge. your eyes trace every movement, and you watch amusedly as he pathetically struggles to remove his gloves, but eventually achieves.

next, he attempts to tackle his zipper. a grimace. then, he attempts it again, only to withdraw in pain.

“let me do it,” impatience on the tip of your tongue. you lunge forward to unzip the damn thing yourself because you can’t bear to watch any longer, small hand swatting his much larger one away.

dropping to your knees, you sit between his legs and zip it down until the entirety of his torso is revealed. a solemn frown settles on your lips, and it takes everything in you to not shed a tear.

gathering your wits, you continue undressing him, gently pulling each arm from its consecutive sleeve, before moving to unclasp the mask tugged down his neck.

“i hate when you do that,” your voice speaks up, replacing the unpleasant silence. there’s evident irritation laced in it, and he can’t help but to wince from the way it pulls his heart strings.

“when i do what?” you take a brief moment before answering him. busy yourself with the loose thread hanging on the side of his leg pant, tug on it until you snap it off. “when you pretend you’re not in pain.”

izuku sighs through his nose, something long and heavy. “i’m sorry,” he attempts at an apology, though he knows he’d have better luck convincing someone else who wasn’t accustomed to seeing him like this.

“no you’re not, otherwise you’d stop waking me up in the middle of the night to tend to your wounds.” there it is. that venomous tongue of yours, the one that doesn’t hold back in telling him what he needs to hear. he can’t even counter it—so he takes it. leans back into the cool porcelain of the tank, and watches as you walk away to the sink, only to return with a stool and rag in tow.

for a minute, you mull over which area of skin to tackle first, until you decide on prioritizing his torso. you take the damp rag and run it along the perimeter of his wound where there’s a culmination of dried blood and fresh red. his abs flex in response to the sensation, a sharp intake of breath.

“sorry,” you mutter without looking at him, eyes focused and hands working diligently between swipes.

“nope, ‘m fine.”

“liar.”

“yeah,” he breathes.

“how’d you get this one, huh? oh, wait, let me guess. off doing god knows what, at god knows where, chasing after some guy you’re not even authorized to be chasing.”

you rise up from your seat to dispose of the rag, grabbing the remaining items on the counter. “did i get any of that right?”

izuku laughs, a small admittance. “i don’t think i’m at liberty to say.”

scoffing, you plop back down in front of him, and carefully, begin cleaning the inside of the wound with a damp piece of gauze. every now and then, you check his face to gauge for any pain, but his relaxed expression is unfaltering. because he’s looking down at you with so much warmth it’s scalding.

his gaze feels like a thousand little pricks, makes you shiver from the intensity, and you silently pray he doesn’t catch it. though, it’s really wishful thinking on your part. he noticed most things, was just in his nature.

“what are you looking at?” all bite. his eyes shift from your face to the tiled floor. suddenly, the grout was starting too look interesting, in fact, when’s the last time you touched it u—

“n-nothing,” he stutters, warmth spreading across his face to the tips of his ears.

“so weird…” your eyes flit up once, before refocusing on covering the wound in clean, dry gauze.

in juxtaposition to your jagged edged words, you’re so gentle. delicate in everything you do, but especially so, when you’re handling him. it’s something that he’s come to find massively endearing, and he hates that the only time he’s a recipient of your attentiveness, is when he shows up at your door all bloodied and bruised.

“shit, uh, can you hold this in place for a second? gonna get some tape.”

izuku nods in compliance. follows with trained eyes as your frame disappears into the dark. then, the sound of a flicker follows suit shortly after, and the light—from what he presumes to be your room—illuminates the rest of the hallway.

in the distance, he can hear the soft thud of feet padding back and forth between rooms, and can just about isolate the cacophonous sound of drawers opening and closing, along with muttered obscenities.

the impending sound of footsteps announces your return, and you take your seat between his legs, this time with a roll of tape in tow.

“and,” you drawl, “done. now let me look at that nasty gash on your face.”

he scoots closer to the edge to give you a better look, and the pair of your knees knock together. neither of you acknowledge it, nor do you make an effort to move. the proximity has him reeling, but you seemingly remain indifferent.

reaching up, you take hold of his chin and maneuver him intermittently as you prod and poke at the open flesh. suddenly, a feeling of sadness washes over you upon the realization that one day he might not even make it to your doorstep. that maybe this will be the last time you hold his beautiful face in your hands. that this will be the last time those kind, green eyes look up at you. the reality of the situation is that every day may very well be his last.

when you stop your ministrations, he knows something’s up. “what is it? what’s wrong?” the intonation in his voice rising, displaying the sincerity of his concern. a calloused hand finds solace on the side of your cheek, and you careen into its warmth.

“i don’t…i don’t know how many times i can keep seeing you like this,” you admit, voice straining at the effort it takes to quell your tears.

izuku brings a second hand up to your face, cradles it in his calloused palms. swipes his thumbs soothingly over the apples of your cheeks and shushes you before a sob can erupt from your throat.

“nonono, don’t get yourself all upset over me.”

“how can i not ‘zu?!”

“‘cause ‘m not worth it,” he spits, and it almost scares you how much he believes in the veracity of his statement.

“‘not worth it’…” you repeat, “if you weren’t worth it, i wouldn’t let you keep coming back into my house. i wouldn’t patch you up…wouldn’t let you keep making me feel like this.”

“i’m sor—“

“don’t you fucking dare say sorry,” you get up abruptly, releasing yourself from his grasp. “god, you make me—you make me fucking crazy! can’t you see?” your hands go to reach the ledge of the sink, and you rock back and forth on anxious heels.

forgetting the ache in his side, the pro-hero rises to his feet. he lets his weakened legs drag him to where you stand. your head is down, and your arms are out-stretched to support your weight. he can’t see your face, but he hears the beginnings of a sob.

thoughts race through his mind a mile a minute. what should i do? he thinks. how can he console you? should he touch you? hold you? but what if you don’t want to be touched? he racks his brain for an answer, to no avail.

for a while, he just stands there—because in the short distance he traveled, he didn’t really think of a plan. just acted on impulse. but then he sees a big cartoonish teardrop land on the counter and he loses it.

unthinking, the greenette takes you into his hold. slots himself behind you like a puzzle piece and wraps you up, one arm across your chest, and the other over your middle. the sudden contact surprises you, but you make no contests. instead, you find yourself relaxing into his grip, and he takes that as a silent confirmation to squeeze you further into his embrace.

“don’t cry,” izuku whispers into the interstice of your neck, “can’t bear it. don’t like it.” you raise your head to lay against his chest, and wrap your fingers around his forearm. his body radiates a warmth that you find wildly comforting. it’s intoxicating, almost. and now that you’ve had a taste of it, you’re not quite sure you’d be able to let go.

but while the feeling is nice, it’s also equal parts scary and debilitating. because you weren’t a couple. you weren’t temporary lovers. you weren’t…anything, and yet—you fit like one. and that was scary. terrifying.

it scared you how much space this person took up in your life; how little he gave in return, and how much of your heart belonged to him. and the worst part of it all? how scared he was to trust you with a scintilla of his. of all the years you’ve known izuku midoriya, this is the coldest you’ve known him to be.

“alright, i’m better now. you can let go,” you speak, though the words that escape your lips directly conflict with what you really feel.

don’t let go. don’t let go. hold me a little longer, please.

reluctantly, the bigger man releases you from his firm grasp. he holds your gaze through the mirror, waits for you to start the conversation—which your eyes seem to have already started, because he swears that right now, they’re singing a song of sorrow.

“be honest with me, please. don’t you think i deserve that much?”

suddenly, the pain in his ribs throbs. his forehead falls to rest on your shoulder. he’s stalling. biding his time so that he can come up with an answer.

“of course you do, you deserve the truth and so much more. but…”

“but,” you repeat plainly, because of course there’s a but.

“—but there’s things that i just can’t tell you. and i know it sucks, and i know it sounds like a bunch of bullshit, but if something were to ever happen to you because of the information you knew, i literally wouldn’t be able to live with myself.” the words flow from his lips hurriedly, like if he doesn’t get it all out now, they’ll detonate inside of him.

“you gotta just give me this, please, baby.”

baby.

babybabybaby. he called you…baby. your eyes widen like saucers at the pet name, and then it dawns on him that he let it slip through a fit of passion.

“baby? uh, pft, i meant…” he tries to recant the part in his spiel that he let slip out, nervously scratching the back of his freckled neck.

“i hate you.” a lie. but it sounds right to say, even though there’s no real weight behind it. still, how dare he? how dare he make you go years thinking your feelings were unrequited? how dare he fucking steal your heart again with one little word, two syllables, and four letters?

izuku smirks. if you had uttered these words to him when he was still young and unsure of himself, he’d believe you. but he doesn’t—because he knows you. knows that your venomous tongue lacks potency. and he knows that your heart is reserved for him, always has been—even if his negligence almost cost him you.

“you don’t,” he says matter-of-factly, viridian irises soft, staring back at you.

“i do.” unceremoniously, two large hands grab your waist. they turn you around with uncharacteristic speed, pin you against the sink and leave you with no exit. a gasp bubbles in your throat.

“okay, then say it to my face, “ izuku leans forward, strong arms encasing you between his chest and the sink he holds. his neck tilts downward so that he’s looking into your eyes, and god, he’s so big. so imposing, takes up too much space. too much.

“tell me you hate me, and i’ll stop doing…this. i’ll get out of your hair for good.”

any and all semblance of composure you had up until that point, dissipates into thin air right then and there. your eyes squint into slits because he fucking proved you right. you were too much of a coward to say it, but on the off-chance that you did, he’d see right through you. one thing you hate more than being proven wrong, is feeling like you have no control over things.

things like izuku. he made your head all foggy with just a glance, and your stomach knotted up with an utter of your name. but this? god, you couldn’t handle this. the proximity, the intimacy of your rather compromising position, the intensity of his gaze, or the way his breath kissed the curve of your jaw. he was everywhere, all the time. omnipotent.

“you’re right,” you admit with a huff, acquiescing to his boyish-grin. your admission has him lurching forward, inching closer, and closer to the pair of roseate lips pouting up at him so prettily (that they might as well be an open invitation for him to kiss you).

“i’m right.”

you find yourself initiating a game of cat and mouse. every time he moves in, you move out. it’s so silly. makes you feel like a love-sick school girl waiting by the lockers to give her crush a handwritten note. but you’re relishing in it; and so is he, admittedly more so than you.

with every passing second, you become less and less aware of your surroundings. all you know is that your lips are moving in tandem, hovering over the other, open-mouthed and panting. you want him. you want to taste him, to bite him, to give him another wound that will turn into a pretty pearl-grey scar amongst the rest.

your desire for him is carnal, but you play this little game like time is infinite. and you suppose, time can be anything you want it to be when you’re encased between his body.

just as he’s about to close the gap, you whisper a plea into his ear. “promise me,” your voice is breathy, wanting, but still firm. his lips dip down to your neck, and he places a hot, open-mouthed kiss into the divot of your clavicle. trails upwards as he pops up to answer you.

“i’ll promise you a hundred things, i’ll - i’ll promise you whatever you want.”

“promise me you’ll start being careful,” you say breathless, “that i won’t see your name as a headline on the news.”

“i promise,” he delves back into your neck, repeating it like a mantra along the vein of your jugular until he kisses his way up to your lips. there’s a brief pause initiated by you when your hand pushes back his chest.

a look of confusion overtakes his features, and you’re looking at him with nervous eyes. are we really about to do this? they say. are we really about to cross that threshold? like you haven’t already done that and more within the span of ten minutes. but you need the reassurance, to be told that everything after this will be okay.

yes, his say. it’s fine. you can trust me.

you felt again the rush of helplessness, the push and pull of the current; until, finally, you let it sink you. he kisses you gently, delicately, then with a swift gradation of intensity that has you whimpering into his mouth.

“hate you,” a kiss, “for making me,” another, “wait so - mmf - long,” you try to speak between clashes of teeth and tongue, smoothing your arms up his exposed chest before encircling them around his neck.

“i know, baby, i’m terrible,” he breaks away to suckle your neck, “i’m the worst.”

“the worst,” you agree. suddenly, you start to understand why people say kissing is like melting, because every part of your body he touches, has you dissolving rapidly into sea-foam. you’re so hot and bothered, you don’t even know what to do with your hands.

they were around his neck at some point, but now they’re roaming freely. over his chest, his biceps, down his back, in his hair—on his face. maybe you’ve traveled too far, because the sound it elicits from him is teetering the border between pain and pleasure.

“sorry, did i do that?” you gesture to his brow, which he shields protectively.

“just a scratch, i can take it,” he reassures, attempting to resume his assault on your collar bone. you grab hold of his chin, redirecting him to look at you.

“just a scratch, huh? well, you’re lucky you got away with just a ‘scratch’.”

#:: — LEXI WRITES !#exposure tags >>>#bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki smut #izuku midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #izuku midoriya smut #deku x reader #bnha x reader #bnha x reader smut #mha x reader #mha x reader smut

667 notes · View notes