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seeingivy · 6 months

Text

the moms

ryomen sukuna x f!reader

**part of my best friend's older brother fic

previous part linked here

“so was it good?”

you shove sammy in the side.

“i don’t have sex and tell, samantha.” you respond, exaggerating every last syllable.

sammy sticks her tongue out to you in response, before handing you the fork. she was the messiest eater you knew, possibly even worse than yuuji, and she had all but demolished the layers of the triple chocolate cake that the two of you were sharing.

“would it kill you to eat this like a normal person?”

“dude, just tell me. this is the fun part about having sex!”

“what? gossiping about it after?” you ask.

“obviously.”

you roll your eyes, before crossing your arms over your chest.

“well, why don’t you gossip first? you’ve had more sex than i have.”

“okay, fine. the first time i had sex it was after prom at some random house party. your turn!”

you give her a glare, which she responds to with a glimmering smile, before gesturing for you to take your turn. that wasn’t the answer you were hoping for when you asked that.

“well, i made dinner before he came. and he was like…doing the whole teasing thing because he always makes us dinner and not the other way around.”

“well, i’m shocked you didn’t chop your own hand off during the process.”

“shut up. anyways, i like initiated it by just giving him the condom.”

sammy nearly chokes on her bite of the cake.

“huh?”

“i just like put it on the table. then he was like going on about how he should be buying the condoms and not me and all that. and even after, he was going off about birth control and plan b and he can buy this one or that one for me and –”

“as he should. i’d come skin him alive if he didn’t.”

“yeah but, i just hate when he offers up him money to me sometimes. he won’t let me pay rent, he like so casually offered to pay for grad school if i have to apply again and -”

“you won’t have to apply again.”

you shoot her a warning glance, before continuing.

“i just feel bad. it reminds me a lot of how much mom probably has to pay them back and hasn’t yet. i’ll feel like i’m doing the same thing to him even though he said it doesn’t really matter because i’ll make more money than him down the line and pay him back.”

sammy pauses.

“i get what you mean. and it’s not his fault, but maybe he just doesn’t get that…that it’s such a big thing he’s giving away. and you are his girlfriend and you do mean the world to him, but it’s not…”

“it’s just too much money. i don’t have something liek that to really offer him. i know it’s an investment in me and that he believes in me and that…that i could eventually pay him back, but i just can’t do that i…i just –”

“well you won’t have to, because you’re going to get in. and if you don’t get in, i will help you apply again. i have a job and you’re my sister.”

you glare at her.

“i’m serious, y/n. you’re my responsibility and…and you shouldn’t feel bad taking my money to do it. it’s only because i know how strapped you are for money. i know that you’ll really mean to pay it back.”

“i will pay it all back, though. like the first second i can, i’m going to –”

sammy leans forward, placing both of her hands on your shoulder and squeezing hard. it’s an almost silly smile that she gives you – and it’s almost like you can see seven year old sammy coming up to the surface.

“relax. i know you will. and i’ll be waiting for it.”

you swallow hard.

“okay fine. fine, fine. you can help me if it gets to that.”

“okay enough boring talk. was it hot? did you actually orgasm?” sammy asks.

you curl your nose up in disgust.

“nice segway.” you deadpan.

“cmon. he’s hot! i know it was good.”

you sigh.

“yes, it was hot. and yes, i did orgasm. twice.”

sammy always been one for the theatrics. and she’s never one to disappoint – because she’s dramatically clutching her chest and making such shocked faces that it makes you laugh.

“not one but TWO?”

you can’t help but smile as she continues her spiel of dramatics and that silent bit of pride – that sukuna was a caring enough partner to actually care about you rather than just himself – simmers up.

“who was the dom? is he into foreplay? oh…oh did he like the outfit? i bet he probably lost his mind.”

“him, obviously. but he said that i’m a brat. and yeah he is into it, but he’s kind of always been like that. and he accidentally ripped it because he got too excited but he offered to get me another one and then added that i need lingerie in every existing color on the color spectrum so…”

“what a dick! i paid for that. and you looked great in it.”

you reach forward, just close enough where you can wrap your arms around her neck. you can hear her struggling a little, an irritated string of noises coming out of her mouth before you let go.

“what’s your problem?”

“i just felt really appreciative of you for a second there.”

sammy gives you a disgusted look, before cupping the bottom of your chin in her hand.

“you’re gross, y/n.”

“you love it!”

sammy gives you one last glare, before sliding a little pink box over to the side. you shoot her a confused look, before opening it and fighting the urge to laugh.

it’s a little frosted cupcake, with the word virgin crossed out on it.

“you’re horrible.”

“it’s funny!”

“what’s in the box?” sukuna asks.

sukuna watches as your eyes widen, before you slam the little pink box shut and slide it behind your back.

you feel your heart sink your chest as sukuna stalks closer, giving you a wide grin, before he stretches his arms – which are irritatingly long – behind you and reaches for it. and before you can even try to snatch it back, he’s turned his back to you as he opens it.

“who gave you this? or is this just something you bought yourself?”

“why the hell would i buy that for myself?”

sukuna laughs as he hands you the box back, which you tuck closer to your chest before you glare at him.

“it’s okay to celebrate big milestones in our relationship. i get it, sweetheart.” he responds.

“i did not buy myself a cupcake with the word virgin crossed out on it. sammy gave it to me. she thinks she’s hilarious.”

sukuna shrugs.

“you’ve been hanging out with sammy a lot.”

you smile.

“dunno. she always invites me to come get coffee with her. the other day i asked her to come study with me and it was really nice.”

“and you talk about how you’re not a virgin over a matcha while you hang out.”

you grin.

“it was actually a slice of cake.”

sukuna dismissively shakes his head, before leaning his head over your shoulder and eyeing the cupcake.

“what flavor?”

“chocolate. you’re not going to like it.”

he’s leaning over your shoulder, sticking his finger straight into the frosting before licking it off his finger. you watch as he curls his face in disgust as he holds his finger out to you.

“too sweet. want it?”

you swipe the rest of the frosting off of his finger as you tuck the box back into the fridge and turn around to sukuna smirking at you. you roll your eyes as you shove him, knowing that this was going to be yet another one of his dirty jokes – that never seemed to cease.

it’s at that point that you realize that he entirely did it on purpose. and that he had the maturity of a seventeen year old boy at times.

“you’re immature. i just licked your finger.” you state.

“you just licked my finger? like you just licked my –”

you flip him off, earning you a laugh from him, before he wraps his arms around your waist, this time pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. it’s not long before he starts leaving wet kisses on your neck, before you can feel your entire body start to thrum under his touch.

“c'mon. you’re so tense. let me fix it.” he whispers.

“i need to iron our clothes. and i’m just worried about later, with the moms, that’s all.”

his breath tickles as he leans lower, now sucking into the soft spots of your neck, as you whine – his voice rasping against your skin. you try to shake him off, already sporting three marks that you’d need to cover up for tonight, but he persists.

“who cares?” he murmurs.

you pout.

“i care! she’s your mom! she’s my mom! and sammy said they invited yuuji, who is probably going to be pissed that i was going there without him in the first place. and your dad is going to be there which is –”

sukuna spins you around, tucking his hand under your chin.

“i don’t give a fuck what my dad thinks. neither should you.”

“i don’t. but, he…”

“what?”

“he says stuff. about yuuji when we go. he could say it about us too, about you.”

“i don’t care.”

“well, i do. who gives him the right?”

it was a simmering irritation that had been taking residence in your head for the past few days. you’d always thought it was a little crass – sukuna’s comments about how his mom was spineless at times, how he couldn’t care less if his father lived or died.

he’d always found your insistence to see your parents at least every two weeks ridiculous, that you and yuuji would go out of your way to trek out there to see them when the entire experience was wholly unpleasant anyways.

but it was all you thought about now – and maybe even a little haunting that now you found his reasoning sound. that as much as you loved his mom, she really was spineless for making him assume so much responsibility when it should have been her. and his dad – that you would actually prefer it if he did die, just to save the two of them from getting hurt.

sukuna lifts his hands and squishes your cheeks, so close together that you can’t get a word out. you glare at him in response – irritated that he always seems to somehow shut you up before you can even broach the topic.

but you drop it, like you almost always do, because all he does is brightly smile at you in response, muttering under his breath about how squishy your cheeks are. and it feels wrong – to curb someone who was so happy and bring up such a sore topic…especially when you two would probably return to the apartment downtrodden in a few hours and have to talk about it anyways.

“sukuna.”

he reaches up, rubbing his thumb into your forehead – a gesture he always did when he was trying to get you to stop frowning.

“eh? what happened to calling me ryomen?”

“well, you’re being annoying.”

“quit making that frowny face.”

“i’m just saying that i want dinner to go well. i don’t want it to go bad because then the moms are going to be upset and yuuji could be too which will be irritating for you and i just –”

sukuna gives you one lingering kiss before pulling back and resting his forehead against yours.

“love that you worry about me. but i’ll be fine. just drop it, okay?” he whispers.

you frown.

“okay. but the first sign of trouble we’re leaving. three squeezes we fight and leave, two squeezes for shut up and stay.”

sukuna smiles.

“deal, pretty girl.”

you stand on the cobblestone walkway for five minutes. mainly because every time sukuna makes an effort to drag you into the house, you pull back on his hand and linger there for a few more seconds, refusing to walk in.

“we’re already late. one of them is probably having an aneurysm right now.” sukuna states.

“there’s no way they aren’t watching this all go down from the window. and two more minutes. i’m just trying to compose myself.”

“well, unfortunately, we’re not in the fucking orchestra, baby. let’s just get it over with.”

you roll your eyes at him and he tries again – pulling your arm forward – before you pull back. you appreciate that he refuses to walk in without you, but that simmering pool of disgust in your stomach, mainly for sukuna’s dad, was getting even worse now that you were here. and if you went now, you wouldn’t keep the promise you two had made.

to avoid fights, at all costs.

“so what are we doing out here?”

you both turn your heads to find yuuji at your sides, both immediately dropping your hands from one another’s, as you look at him. it fills an ache in your chest – that you used to do this with him and he barely even wanted to see you these days – as you give him a halfhearted smile.

“ah. just nervous to go in, that’s all.” you respond.

“oh, the moms will be dying to hear all the details. what’s there to be scared of?”

“exactly that. that they’re going to ask for details.”

yuuji leans his head back, laughing like a little kid, before shaking his head and pressing his hands to your shoulders. it fills you with the slightest amount of ease – warm hands on your shoulders, his musky cologne filling your nose – as you walk closer to the door.

sukuna knocks on the door for the three of you. and they both answer the door in a split second, confirming your suspicions that they really were watching everything go down from the window.

it’s suffocating – the group hug that the two of them trap you all in. you can hear both yuuji and sukuna groaning in your ears, your own windpipe constricted from your vantage point in the middle, as you hear a string of sweet nothings coming out of their mouths.

“our little love birds are here!”

when they let go, freeing the three of you from their deathly grasp, they’re both beaming at you and sukuna so lovingly that it almost freaks you out. you shoot a look to yuuji at your side, whose making his best efforts not to laugh, as he walks past the four of you into the kitchen.

“okay, okay, let’s see it then!” your mom states.

“see what?” sukuna asks.

“do something sweet. give her a kiss, sukuna!” mrs. itadori adds.

“i will most definitely not be doing that.” sukuna responds, pressing a halfhearted kiss to his mom’s cheek before linking his arm in with yours and dragging you past the two of them.

they both follow, like overzealous dogs, as you shoot them polite smiles. but the second you catch sight of sammy in the kitchen, with a batch of cupcakes, you wrestle out of sukuna’s grasp to run up to her.

sammy gives you a smile in recognition when she realizes it’s your pounding steps that she’s hearing and opens her arms up for you. it’s a warm hug – a sickeningly sweet smell of sugar emanating from her – as she whispers into your ear, the two of you snickering.

“did he like my cupcake?”

“i hope you die, bitch.”

“who said that?” your mom asks.

“sammy.” you respond.

“y/n.” sammy responds, at the exact same time.

you both snicker as you lean against the counter with her, as sukuna walks over with his arms crossed against his chest.

“samantha.” he states.

“ryomen sukuna.” she responds.

“y/n!” you add.

the two of them look over at you, irritated looks on their faces.

“everyone was saying each other’s names really dramatically. i wanted to join in.” you add.

“i’m going to have a talk with you after dinner, ryomen.”

“fine, samantha. i look forward to it.”

despite the rather dramatic and overzealous tones they’re both using, their smiles deceive them entirely. sammy gives him a light shove, that he fully returns, before he walks off into the kitchen.

and not even two minutes later, you can’t help but abandon helping the sammy with the dishes and instead poke your head out to the table – where sukuna’s now sitting next to yuuji and two seats away from his dad.

you can tell that the sukuna and yuuji are whispering under their breaths, but entirely unable to discern if it’s pleasant or if they’re two seconds away from ripping each other’s heads off.

sammy slaps you on the backside of the head.

“you’re even worse than him. why are you staring at him? you literally live together.”

“we don’t live together. and how do you even know that?”

“you told me.”

“i totally didn’t, but…they’ve been fighting since we started dating. i’m scared one of them is going to smack the other at this point.”

sammy rolls her eyes.

“don’t tell me yuuji has some weird complex about you dating his brother. there’s no way he didn’t know sukuna has liked you this entire time.”

“what are you girls whispering about?” your mom asks.

you both shoot up, abandoning the door, as you start stacking the plates, shooting the two of them a peachy smile.

“nothing, mommy. just girl stuff.” you mutter.

“y/n was staring at sukuna. i was telling her that she has all the time in the world to do that and that she should help me instead.”

you shoot sammy a glare, as she starts laughing behind her hand, before sukuna’s mom walks up to you, cupping both of your cheeks in her hands. you’re caught off guard by the blatant affection – because it’s not that she hasn’t been fond of you before, but it holds too much of a different weight now.

“oh sweet girl. i’m so happy for you two, i’ve always known he’s had such a special spot for you.”

you smile as she reaches forward and presses a wet kiss to your cheek, before wrapping you in one of the tightest hugs to man. you can feel the blood rushing to your head, nervousness returning in full flesh as she lets you go and smiles.

“so everyone tells me! at this point, it feels like everyone knew but me.” you add.

“do you remember when he walked to a grocery store to get you a princess bandaid because you thought the tan ones were boring? because i personally remember that and thought –”

“sammy, quit it. don’t tease your sister.” your mom scolds.

sammy bites down on her cheeks at the comment, at being berated by your mom, as you frown. you look at her over your shoulder, shaking your head in dismissal, as you grab the last of the dishes and drag them out to the table.

it was a weird test – the dinner tonight. between you and sammy, since you had just rekindled whatever relationship it was you had, and you and yuuji, since he couldn’t seem to be bothered to really talk to you these days. and between your god given patience and sukuna’s dad, obviously.

when you walk into the room, sukuna shuffles a seat over, offering you the spot in between him and yuuji, and you shoot him a grateful smile. but you immediately regret sliding into it, realizing that he’s now stuck right next to his dad and across from his mom at the other side.

you reach for sukuna’s hand under the table and he laces his fingers in with yours. when he looks up at you, he frowns and presses his fingers to your cheek.

“you have a lipstick mark.” sukuna states, rubbing into the softness of your cheek.

“oh. your mom kissed me.”

sukuna rolls his eyes.

“irritating. that’s my thing.”

sukuna drops his hand as your mom walks in with the last of the plates, everyone shuffling into their seats and giving each other peachy smiles. it’s almost awkward at first, because no one seems to really talk with anyone else. it’s really only the moms interjecting every one in a while, but it’s almost always awkward comments.

“sammy. you should have brought your boyfriend.” your mom states.

you shoot your head up.

“he’s busy.” she responds.

“he’s always busy. we’d love to meet the guy you spend so much time with. he could even be friends with sukuna!”

“well, sukuna is annoying, so i doubt it. but sure, sure. next time.” sammy responds, reaching for her glass and downing half of the water in it.

you shoot her a smile, which she doesn’t really return, as you bite down into the side of your cheek.

the dinner goes well, considering things. it’s obviously very awkward – and they ask way too many overbearing questions that sukuna refuses to answer due to the intrusion. and that you can’t stomach answering either, because yuuji’s almost too attentive eyes at your side guilt you into not confessing.

“have you guys said i love you yet?” mrs. itadori asks.

“mom.” sukuna groans.

you two shoot each other a look.

“if you must know, we have. now talk about something else, literally anything else.” sukuna responds, making such an aggressive cut into his chicken that it loudly clinks against the ceramic of the plate.

it’s enough to satiate the moms and throw them into their own frenzy of excitement.

“i’m going to get some water.” yuuji states.

“i’ll come with!” you respond, shooting him a smile as you both awkwardly pull out of the chairs.

it’s a quiet walk to the kitchen, as yuuji rummages through the cabinets and produces a glass for the two of you. but luckily enough for you, he’s the one who fills the silence first.

“i miss you.” he offers.

you feel your chest clench.

“really? i really miss you too.”

“got no time for me anymore now that you’ve got a boyfriend?” he jokes.

“that’s rich coming from you.” you joke back.

except when you look up, he’s looking at you with no semblance of a smile on his face, instead an awkward mix between confusion and irritation.

“what do you mean by that?”

“oh! i was just kidding!”

“were you?”

“it’s just because you’re always with megumi. and he always used to come to our hangouts, that’s all.”

“do you have a problem with that?”

“no. but –”

“because if you did, you should have just said. i thought we were best friends who told each other everything. including when the other was being a bad friend.” yuuji states.

“i know. i just felt bad and i didn’t really mind him joining.”

yuuji sighs, before turning to your side and facing you properly this time. it’s a simmering pool of disgust in your stomach – mainly for yourself – that yuuji had tried to build a bridge and you’d immediately burned it down by making a joke that wasn’t appropriate.

“look. i don’t like fighting with you. and i really miss you, you…you can even ask megumi. talk about it all the time. we have a lot to talk about, obviously, but –”

you sigh, reaching forward and opening your arms for him. it’s a bright smile that he gives you – characteristically warm, with the soft wrinkles by his eyes.

“i miss you too.”

“i’ll uh…promise to be civil then. if sukuna’s the hill you’re willing to die on, then…then i’ll try to get over it.”

you smile.

“really?”

“are you really that shocked? i’d do anything for you.”

“you gave me a pause there.” you add.

yuuji frowns, before reaching forward, and affectionately ruffling the side of your hair.

“i love you, y/n. i’m sorry if i didn’t make it seem that way, i just –”

“i know you love me. i just thought you trusted me more to know i wouldn’t make stupid decisions anymore.”

yuuji frowns.

“i don’t think you’re stupid. it was him i didn’t trust.”

“well, how about you just trust my judgment about him?”

“i just want you to be with someone who would treat you really well.”

“and he does treat me really well. i wouldn’t be with him if he didn’t.”

you reach forward, linking one of your hands in with yuuji’s, and squeeze hard.

“i appreciate the concern. but i’ll tap out if it’s too much for me.” you affirm.

yuuji frowns, before halfheartedly shaking his head.

“i know. just…you’re still my best friend first. you can still come to me if he does something to you…i…i don’t give a shit that he’s my brother.”

“obviously. you’re my day one.” you respond.

yuuji gives you a glimmering smile, which you take as a silent win, as you both walk back into the main room. and when you sit back down, sammy shoots you a wide eyed look, before letting her eyes flicker over to sukuna.

you look over at him at your side, only to find him clenching not only his jaw but his fists under the table. you reach for his leg under the table, squeezing once, which he immediately responds to by taking hold of your hand instead.

“you’re finally back. don’t you think it’s rude to leave for minutes at a time, y/n, yuuji?”

you bite down on your lip, feeling the acidic feeling crawl up your throat, as you turn your head to where sukuna’s dad is now staring you down. you shoot sukuna a warning glance, before you swallow the feeling down.

“i’m sorry. i wasn’t feeling well.” you respond.

you’re able to cue in that in the few seconds that you and yuuji had stepped into the kitchen, his dad had downed a decent amount of the wine bottle that had been intended for you and sukuna to share.

and the awkward silence hangs in the air, everyone lowering their heads to focus on pushing their food around on their plate. no one makes an effort to talk again and sukuna’s squeezing your hand so hard that you’re almost positive that he’s cutting your circulation off.

“what were you and yuuji talking about?” he asks.

“nothing. we were just getting water, because she wasn’t feeling well.” yuuji responds.

“right. well, you’re sure there’s nothing going on right? because you’ve always been closer than most.”

sukuna watches as you and yuuji pinch your eyes shut, the irritation festering in both of your expressions. sukuna remembers that you had mentioned it in passing – that his dad always seemed to suggest that there was something going on between you and yuuji – to avoid talking about megumi.

“she’s my girlfriend.” sukuna responds.

“well, like i was saying, you should rethink that.” his dad adds.

yuuji drops his fork.

“what?”

“yuuji, don’t.” sammy whispers.

“well, i was just saying. if it were me, i would feel strange if my wife was so close with another man. they’ve had hundreds of sleep overs…and you’re really telling me that two teenagers were sleeping in the same bed without doing anything?”

you feel your eye twitch.

“and then again, you do have to question her intentions. he makes more money than her, i’m now being told that she lives with him, and…and it begs the question. what does she really bring to the table? at best, student loans?”

sukuna immediately shoots his head to the left, only to find you looking down at your plate, the strands of your hair obscuring your face. he shakes your hand under the table, only to get two squeezes back.

no fighting.

he leans back in his chair, stomach rolling over, only to find yuuji staring bullets into his skin. he gives him a confused look, which only seems to agitate yuuji more.

“do something.” yuuji whispers.

“what the hell are you on about? just be quiet.” sukuna responds.

yuuji slams his utensils down on the plate, before pushing out of his chair.

“sukuna. help me with the dessert in the kitchen.” yuuji responds, tone scathing.

you let the two of them shuffle away into the kitchen and restrain yourself from joining them for a full two minutes. but the first shred of a raised voice that you hear is enough to make you push out of your chair and excuse yourself, only to find the two of them glaring at each other.

“guys…you have to be kidding me.” you state.

“y/n. you said you would tap out. i think now’s the time.” yuuji states.

sukuna tilts his head to the side.

“you said what?” sukuna asks.

“yuuji. that is in no way what i meant. and why the hell would i tap out?”

“he’s a dick! sukuna’s letting him talk to you like that and he doesn’t even care.”

sukuna’s sneering at him.

“like i said, dipshit, she asked me specifically not to. i actually care enough to listen unlike you.” sukuna responds.

yuuji’s glaring back.

“i would never, in good faith, let anyone talk about her like that. maybe that’s the difference between me and you.”

“you didn’t say shit when we were sitting there.” sukuna states.

“because you’re supposed to do that. she’s your girlfriend. you should adore her so much that it pisses you off that someone would even raise their voice at her.”

“and i do. but i love her enough to respect what she wants – which is not fucking fighting in front of our parents, dumbass.”

yuuji gets a little too close to sukuna and his raised hands make the panic rise up in your chest. you feel a set of footsteps moving before sammy’s standing right at your side, the two of you watching as they continue to argue.

you refuse to intervene. sukuna was mature enough to deal with it.

“do something.” sammy whispers.

“what the hell am i supposed to do?” you whisper back.

“they’re like your little lap dogs. make one stop and the other will follow. mrs. itadori’s like two minutes away from crying.”

you groan, as sammy gives you a supportive thumbs up, and you inch closer to them.

it’s the last time you decide to take sammy’s advice.

because the exact second that you decide to walk closer to them is also when yuuji decides that he’s going to punch sukuna first. except when he pulls his hand back to aim, he backs his fist into your face instead of sukuna’s.

it’s a burning warmth that’s blooming under your skin, as you clutch your hands to your forehead and block out the light before dropping to your knees. you instinctively try to block the light out as the pulsating rushes under the softness of your eye, the pain sharp.

you feel your head raise off of the cold tile quickly, sammy’s hands on your cheeks.

“shit. shit, y/n i’m sorry i didn’t think he’d punch you.” sammy states.

“sammy, you…you’re such a fucking idiot.” you murmur, in half coherency.

the first thing that you see in your peripheral vision is sammy and yuuji looking down at you, a warm fear drowning in both of their eyes but with the edges of your vision blurred. you can tell that there’s a slight sheen in yuuji’s eyes, his hands squeezing at your biceps and his voice entirely frantic.

“y/n. oh my fucking god, i’m so sorry. i didn’t even fucking see you there. i would never fucking hit you.”

“hey. hey, hey. focus on me.” sammy beckons.

you avert your gaze to her, now focused on how her fingers seem to be massaging into the back of your head.

“repeat your name for me.” sammy asks.

“what? you know my name sammy.”

“you know where you are?” she asks.

you can tell what she’s doing.

“sam, i’m fine. quit doing one of your nursing school exams on me.”

“follow my finger with your eyes. you hit your head, dumbass.”

the light is entirely obscured this time, quieting the sharpness of the fluorescent bulb above, when you finally find sukuna in your line of vision, nursing a bag of peas in his hands. he doesn’t say anything, eyes drowning in such guilt that it makes your stomach turn.

“hey, i’m fine.” you offer.

“sit up for me then doll.” he responds.

you follow his command, both sammy and yuuji stabilizing you at your side as he brushes his fingers over your eye. you flinch at the sensation, watching as his eyes flicker in hurt, before he presses the peas into the softness of your eyes. he continues to hold it there, before turning to sammy.

“is she okay, sam?”

“she didn’t answer all my questions, but i think she was just sassing me. she’s alert but just be on the watch if she gets more confused as she gets home. call me if it gets worse.” sammy offers.

“anything else i can do besides the ice?” sukuna asks, voice quiet.

“she’s going to be fine. s’just a bruise. give her an advil for a headache.” sammy responds, reaching forward to ruffle your hair before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

yuuji takes one of your hands in his, squeezing his hand in yours.

“y/n, really. i’m so sorry, you have to know that i didn’t mean it.”

you frown.

“i know, yuu. no big deal, let’s just…talk about it later, okay? i know it was an accident and…”

you’re cut off by the feeling of sukuna taking your other hand and squeezing three times. you look over at him, eyes wide.

“you might not need to tap out yet but i fucking do. can we leave?” he whispers.

“of course we can. i don’t want to –”

“i’m getting your bag. stay with sammy.” he responds, gesturing for her to take his place in holding the peas against your face as he stalks out of the room.

sukuna returns just as fast as he left, bag in his left hand and his right wrapped around your waist as he marches the two of you to the porch. in the few seconds he uses to pull up to the car at the front, you turn to sammy at your side.

“stay with yuuji. tell him that it’s okay and that he should stay with megumi tonight. i don’t want him to be all upset.”

“got it. i’ll come by tomorrow, okay?”

you give her a nod, as she walks you to the passenger side door, where sukuna’s quick to open the door and tuck you into the warmth of the car.

it’s a quiet ride home.

he’s uncharacteristically inexpressive the second you get back to the apartment. you can tell that it’s not nonchalance – only because he seems to be tending to you so dutifully, but quietly. almost like he can’t muster up something to say. and you can’t think of the right thing either.

he’s quick to lead you to the bedroom, helping you into your pajamas and carefully pulling the shirt over your injured eye. and even after that, delicately wiping the makeup off of your face, before pressing a real icepack into your eye.

it’s satisfying to him that you seem to relax under the cooling sensation of the icepack, fluttiern gyur eyes shut like you’re relieved.

“thanks ryo. i appreciate you taking care of me.” you mumble.

he lifts his hands up to your neck, using the tips of his fingers to angle your face up so that he can look at you properly in the light. you can see the contempt in his face at the pink swelling now, at how he swallows so hard you can see his adam’s apple bob in his throat.

“i’m going to kill him.” sukuna whipsers.

“i don’t care what your dad thinks. i don’t care if he thinks i have nothing to offer you –”

“not him…i’m talking about fucking yuuij. he fucking punched you, y/n.”

you cringe.

“it was an accident.” you respond.

“i know that. but that’s just the thing. he’s so fucking immature for even attempting to punch me at a family dinner. and as always, he has no fucking awareness of his surroundings or of you, because he just gave you a black eye.”

you can tell that he’s still simmering – muscles in his neck tense – as you try to diffuse the stiffness and tension.

“you care so much about little old me?” you joke, giving him a peachy smile.

he only glares in response.

“he punched you in your pretty face. stop fucking joking about it. i know how much that shit hurts first hand, y/n, and it's in no way funny to me."

you frown, before standing on your tiptoes to wrap your arms around his neck. he’s quick to return the hug, holding most of your weight around your waist as you sag into him.

his voice is quiet when it comes out.

"i hate seeing you in pain." he mumbles.

it’s only then that you’re really able to recollect everything – the extremely high energy that the moms seemed to be dishing out, his dad’s clear, abundantly clear disapproval of you, and the fact that you and yuuji seemed to only get farther apart the closer you try to be to him. a

nd that the pinching headache that was starting to settle into the front of your forehead was something sukuna was all to familiar with, at age seven. that maybe the entire ordeal was reminding him of the worst, but that you were at the center of it.

and horribly, it’s a quick thought that passes your mind. that what you and yuujji have going on in between you might be irreparable. that you have to pick, and that you can't fix anything that happened to sukuna when he was little.

you don’t say much at first, only focused on pressing yourself into his skin and leaning against his shoulder. the thought of never recuperating your relationship with yuuji has the tiredness seeping into your bones and wearing you down completely.

his breaths seem to slow down, muscles relaxing as he only holds you closer, burying his head into the crook of your neck.

“quit being mad.” you murmur.

“easier said than done, princess.” he responds.

“was an accident. i know why it bothers you but...”

sukuna's quiet, his voice like gravel.

"i don't want to talk about that."

you pull back, immediately regretting mentioning it.

"i'm sorry. i didn't mean to push, i just meant-"

"i know. i just can't stomach reliving that when i can see the bruise on your face. i can't even fucking look at you, you...."

his voice wavers and you press your hand into his cheek, dismissing it.

"whenever you're ready. if you want to."

you frown. sukuna’s quick to pull back and wrap one his hands around your cheek.

“stop talking about me. you're the one who's hurt, you...you have to let me fix it.” he whispers.

you can tell that he's trying to change the subject. and that really, some part of him only feels comfortable when he's taking care of someone else. you'll grant it to him for today.

“i’m just tired and that was just a lot with yuuji and i just…”

you deflate, feeling warm tears rise up in your eyes. that he always wants to take care of you, even when he doesn't feel his best. you can watch as sukuna’s face literally droops, before lifting your face up again.

that really, he cared about you so earnestly, and yuuji was refusing to see it.

“what is it?”

“what if yuuji and i are never the same again? what if…what if we just keep getting worse?”

sukuna frowns.

“i don’t like that he makes you pick, y/n. but i wouldn’t –”

“no. no fuck off for a second, god.”

sukuna’s thrown off by the cursing, as he takes the cue to be quiet and talk.

“i’d pick you. he’s being a dick and i-i’d always pick you. you’re all the cheesy stuff for me. we’re two stars and two flowers and you…you’re the love of my life. i’d pick you. i just hate that he won’t let me have this thing and how we don’t get to have a big…a big cheesy family who is happy for us besides sammy, who i really love right now.”

sukuna tucks the stray hair behind your ears, before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“it’s not fair! we deserve people who just want to be happy for us, you deserve a good dad who isn’t a dick, i deserve one who is still here, and i’ve always wanted a big wedding and future with a warm family that…that bakes cookies for each other and shit and it just gets more and more obvious that we’ll never get to have that and it makes me angry.”

sukuna smiles, before pressing his hands to the sides of your waist and lifting you up on to the counter. he takes residence in the spot between your legs, looking up at you with the softest of smiles.

“i wanted to have a nice dinner where yuuji realized you made me really happy and sammy could admit that she’s bi or a lesbian or experimenting or whatever and i wanted to feel like people really loved me and were finally happy for me after everything that happened.” you add.

you look down to find sukuna with the smallest whisper of a smile on his face and you can’t help but glare at him.

“what are you smiling about freak?” you mutter.

“you want a big cheesy family with me.”

you roll your eyes.

“i got hit in the head. let me live.”

sukuna shakes his head.

“no take backs, angel.”

he presses a kiss into the bare skin of your shoulder, before mumbling quietly.

“no corny family for us, right now. but that doesn’t mean that we can’t make one for ourselves.”

“hm?”

“we can make our own big cheesy family. you’d be a really good soccer mom.”

you snort.

“you’d run a kindergarten soccer team like it was the military.” you respond.

“damn right i would. our kid has to be the best.”

you smile.

“we’ll be a proper family. you have to make school lunches that every food on the fucking food pyramid in them or whatever and corny notes about how much you love them. and i’ll teach them math and attempt to not make them cry when i help them. we’ll go to shitty concerts together and pretend like it was good and i will obviously fight a snotty nosed child if they ever bother our kids.”

you poke at his dimples.

“we’ll rotate on good cop bad cop. i’ll pretend like i’m their favorite when we both know it’ll be you. sammy will be a wine aunt and if yuuji can stop being a fucking bitch, which he will, he’d fucking spoil them rotten.” he adds.

“why are you saying all this?”

“we’ll make the family we want. s’no point in being upset about it when we’ll have it all. i'll make sure of it.”

you sigh, before pushing off of the counter and looking up at him. he leans down, pressing a featherlike kiss into the pulsating bruise near your eye, before locking his hands together around your neck.

“see the vision?” he asks.

“not really. i would hate being a soccer mom. yuuji doesn’t seem like he’s going to let up. and sammy doesn’t like wine, sukuna.”

sukuna smiles.

“we’ll get you there. i’ll keep convincing you till you’ll believe it, okay?”

“are you mad i can’t see it?”

“no. thought stuff like that was hopeless for me before i met you, so. and fighting with your best friend and hearing shit from people you want more from doesn’t make that easy. but i'll get you there.”

he reaches forward, tracing a little x over your chest. you give him a nod, before mimicking the same motion on his heart too.

next part linked here

an: sometimes i wonder if this fic is ever annoying. but then I ignore it and post the chapter anyways. anyways meow the next chapter im so excited for eek

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tastesousweet · 8 months

Text

⭒ the girl with the tattoo (iv) - pt 1 pt 2 p3

matt sturniolo x fem!oc / reader

summary : maybe the only way matt and y/n can stand being around each other is to fuck each other

warnings : weed, alcohol/drinking, smut (slightly rough but not very?? pretty filthy tho), profanity

mickey speaks : rlly hate how the smut turned out but maybe its jus me being a perfectionist + i changed a lot of shit ab UCLA (mostly grad dates) to fit into my narrative okay, i knowwww. only sorta proofread bc ive been busy, enjoy <3

THIS IS PART FOUR GO READ THE FIRST THREE PARTS DUHH

"FUCK!"

the turn of spring to summer in LA is typically the most eventful time of year. more parties are thrown than ever before in celebration of the season change, the boom of tourism begins, and of course school years are ending.

you celebrated your college graduation from UCLA only a week ago, with a large dinner at your favorite seafood restaurant and your friends all excitedly in attendance. matt was also there but you let it be known you invited him only so you wouldn’t feel bad (though he claims he wouldn’t have cared if you did or not).

you also shared an excruciating breakfast that same morning with your parents (both suffocating you with their traditional views that reminded you exactly why you moved hours away from them to attend school). you were cautious to wear items of clothing that would hide your tattoo and kept any conversations on the topic of your schooling rather than outside interests (not that they even care to ask) out of fear you may expose your routine of going out to party most weekends.

your brother was also at breakfast and you could tell he was trying his hardest to keep a positive attitude for you. you immediately noticed his wet face when you gave him a full hug after your ceremony, which made you cry, mostly out of missing him and love.

"it's not that bad!" andrea looks at you in the mirror as she continues to give herself soft curls.

“how the fuck did i manage to make this one downturned and this one up,” you reply in frustration while you point to either wing of eyeliner on your grimaced face.

andrea giggles and aims the stick of the curling iron at makeup remover lying in the sink, “just get a q-tip and fix it, cariño.” (“honey”)

you move around her to grab a q-tip from a small jar in the medicine cabinet before following her instructions, getting extra close to the mirror.

remi barges in the bathroom dressed in a mini skirt and a detailed patterned top, “hi nick!” she exclaims to her phone screen, placing it down on the counter while untwisting her lipgloss.

you can see nick’s awkward face as he sits in the car (making his camera jump at any dip or bump in the road), “sooo…this better be erin’s bathroom ceiling im staring at.”

“and if i say it’s not?” remi giggles to herself before rubbing her lips together to spread the gloss further.

“i’d say what the fuck are you guys still doing at home?! y/n’s our mutual friend that even got us into this bitch and i’m not just walking into some sorority house acting like i know any of these fucking people.”

“and we didn’t go to college!” chris exclaims to add to the point.

“yeah, we didn’t go to fuckin’ college!” nicks adds before his face falters, “the fuck does that have to do with it?”

chris’ voice is low as he explains himself, “you know…like, obviously we aren’t gonna know shit about some delta kappa omega?”

nick comedically pauses and the three of you watch the screen to see him staring at chris with no facial expression, “…okay chris. anyway, get your asses over here ASAP. we need you.”

“okay, we don’t need them. you’re being dramatic just chill out,” matt huffs from the driver’s seat.

“hey, we’re leaving soon i promise, nick.” andrea assures and remi picks her phone off of the counter to show the girl.

"thanks, but we'll be fine. erin told me where to find her, let's not get ridiculous." matt continues dismissing the conversation he finds so unnecessary.

you hold yourself back from saying anything but you can’t help but wonder just how close erin has got to matt. and how she managed to hold any conversations without pissing him off (no way a little lap dance dismissed matt’s entire personality). she hasn’t been too explicit about anything happening between them, only cluing you all in through her frequent mentions of him.

chris’ loud voice beams, “yeah, you ladies take your time! nick gimme the phone-” chris’ smiley face takes up remi’s screen now that the phone has shifted, “you know, who the fuck are we to tell any of you to rush?!” he sees andrea in view (with a form fitting dress and warm toned makeup) and can’t help the rush of words that decide to spill from his mouth, “andreayoulookfineasshitbytheway- and i just think, uh,” he giggles at his poor recovery and at andrea shaking her head and biting the side of her mouth (her very andrea way of blushing). “um, yeah, fuck, what was i sayin’?” he turns to matt.

nick laughs from the backseat at chris’ comment (he thinks it’s generally embarrassing opposed to andrea who finds herself embarrassingly flattered by him).

“nothing important, say your goodbyes now, we just pulled up.” matt gives his short advice and takes the phone. “see you, bye,” he hangs up and chris punches his arm immediately.

“dudeee!” chris groans. matt doesn’t give any reaction besides handing nick his phone back without looking at him.

“we’ll see them in less than an hour, get your shit.” matt tilts his head out the door as he opens it and exits the car.

“he’s so annoying.” chris huffs and turns to nick as he unbuckles his seatbelt.

“i don’t know him, he’s your fuckin’ brother.” nick shrugs and acts clueless. chris laughs into his seat and nick knows making chris laugh makes him feel way better than just shitting on matt would’ve.

matt opens his door again, “get your gigglin’ asses out here!”

౨ৎ

matt's suprised he's lasted this long at this party without a fucking drink.

he's seen just about every partygoer trope there is - drunk guys and "you need to sober up" girlfriends, overly excited drunks far too impressed by each new song that plays, the loner type who strictly speak within their circle even when wasted, et cetera - and has managed to lose everyone he knows in this crowd, leaving him alone with DD responsibilities in a sorority house bouncing with excitement in honor of their “graduating senior sisters.”

speaking of, he’s only spoken to erin once all night. he did see you with your friends briefly, early in the night before you were swooped away with nick to be introduced to some guy he just met.

so like all times matt is bitchless and bored, he decides to smoke. he reaches in his jacket pocket for the joint he rolled before the party, in case of emergency.

but just as he raises the lighter towards his mouth he's interrupted by an airy, high pitched voice, “um, excuse me!” matt looks over, “yeah, you. sorry, you can't have drugs in the house.” the blonde frowns.

“it’s weed…” matt clarifies, taking the joint from between his lips.

“uh huh! and that is prohibited, outside please,” she guides her hand, drink in tow, towards a sliding door behind her.

he's not gonna nitpick with some chick about the umbrella term of 'drugs' or debate whether the alcohol she's drinking lies under it, so he just nods his head “cool,” and removes himself from his spot against the wall to walk around her and out of the door.

౨ৎ

you slump against a nearby couch as you recover from a hour of dancing alongside your best friends. remi sits next to you and leans her head on your shoulder as you both look around at the room full of people (a shade of deep fuchsia covers the room from multiple LED lights around the large house).

when you feel your own blinks become slower you shrug your shoulder and look at remi's profile, "we should probably get up rem, or else we'll fall asleep. this couch is way too comfy." you sigh.

"mmm... yeah. kinda want another drink but," she turns to look behind you both, "the kitchen's all the way over there..."

"now i know you two aren't tapping out of my party already?!"

you both look over to see erin dressed in a small glittered party dress, making her shine as she walks closer. "erin, where the fuck have you been?!" you excitedly rise from the couch and give her a hug.

"it's actually so fucking hard to host a graduation party, especially with my sorority sisters- they've had me doing all these traditions and shit, i haven't had time to talk to like anyone!" she explains to both you and remi.

"well, at least you look good, bitch!" remi adds and holds erins hand to make her twirl in her dress.

"thank you," she blushes and looks down then back to you two, "have either of you seen the triplets?"

"i think nick's off with some dude and chris is 'teaching' drea how to play beer pong..." you trail off and look to remi, "have you seen matt at all...?"

"not recently, i don't think so?" she looks over to erin.

"oh okay, that's fine. just wanna make sure they're having funnn." she draws her words out as she plays with the ends of her hair and smiles. you and remi can both tell she something bothers her more than she's leading on.

"e, come with us to grab drinks," you hold both remi and erin's hands and guide them with you to the kitchen.

౨ৎ

matt hadn't realized how hard he was staring at you dancing until chris came up to him with wild eyes and a loud laugh, making him snap away from whatever trance he was in.

"you okay, matt? your brain's not buzzkillin' right?"

matt straightens himself to no longer lean on the wall, "no."

"you sure?"

"yes?"

"maybe you should say fuck DD and have a drink or two, might give you somethin' to smileee aboutttt!" chris laughs.

"don't be stupid, chris. 'm not driving drunk."

"obviously we'd get an uber, matt." he emphasizes with a 'duh' attitude. "i get funnier when drunk, not stupid."

"right," matt offers a light laugh.

he throws a hand over matt's shoulder as they both face the crowd of dancing people, "god damn andrea's fucking hot- swear she's been feelin' me all night," chris hypes himself up then brings his red solo cup towards his mouth.

matt's eyes shift from you to andrea, who's limbs move just as freely and smile is just as wide. "that's good, that's good," matt nods. "she's nice."

"she's everything, bro." chris shakes his head in awe, "but, uh, do you have any cash on you?" matt turns his head, eyes showing his annoyance. "i'll pay you back, you know that matt. just like $20 to get me in the poker game outside."

"chris-"

"please, matt," he begs.

matt lets a heavy sigh out through his nose as he rustles in his pocket for his wallet. "you're my favorite now," chris kisses matt's hand quickly before he's heading off with a crumpled twenty in hand.

matt's eyes follow him until he's fully gone, then he's turning to look for you again. only this time it's not a challenge at all, you're already on your way.

you pull at the bottom of your little black dress (which rode up some due to your eccentric dancing) as you approach. "hi, matttt," you sing. it's known to most of your friends that when you're drunk your emotions are ten times stronger, and right now you're feeling extra carefree.

matt can tell you've definitely had a few drinks, so he tries to keep the conversation civil. "hey," he cracks a smile.

"are you not having fun?" you ask. you've wondered ever since you recognized him across the room.

"sure, i'm having fun." he shrugs, keeping eye contact with you.

you notice his all black outfit and blue jean jacket, "we kinda match," you look down at yourself then towards him, "i had a jean jacket too...it's um, in a closet somewhere i think."

"then you must have great style," matt jokes.

"oh i think that was clear before i happened to match you," you joke making use of your hands while speaking.

"mhm, sure..."

"so, do you wanna dance with us?" you smile in question.

"absolutely not," matt laughs and brings a fist to his mouth.

your smile drops, "right, you watch us dance but laugh at the thought of participating...?" you move your eyes to each side, "'cause that makes sense, matthew."

"no, it's not like that. you go have fun, i'm just not one to make myself look stupid for fun." he shrugs.

"so we...look stupid?" you squint your eyes in amusement knowing matt is trying to be such a hard ass for no reason.

"you said it," he laughs.

now you're a bit annoyed. "so you go back to being a loser all alone right here in this corner, and i'll go back to this stupid party and enjoy myself."

"alright," he rolls his eyes, "go ahead and be dramatic about it."

"will do," you sigh and begin to walk over to your friends, presenting matt with the gift of your middle finger directed towards him behind your back.

and matt thinks he just might take chris' advice on having a drink or two.

౨ৎ

you hate that matt is still on your mind.

and it irritates the fuck out of you that you're now giddy seeing him for a third time tonight. but to give yourself the benefit of the doubt, you've gotten to the point where you're so buzzed you've become horny.

you came outside on the hunt for remi, who told you she was looking for erin, and ended up finding all three triplets at a makeshift poker table full of rowdy men.

and as some wise person must have said: when horny, find someone to fuck.

"y/n!! whatcha doin'?" nick notices you and gives you a wide grin offering you a chair near the table.

"hey, nick. 'm sorry i can't really stay i just, um, need to borrow matt."

matt. who isn't paying much attention to anything around him now that the four shots he took settled. with his phone in one hand and a beer resting in his other, he's bound to be startled when you come behind him and whisper in his ear, "heyyy, sorry to bother but can we talk?"

he blinks and looks behind him, "y/n?!"

"come," you motion with your fingers and begin to walk away as he rubs his fingers over his eyes and starts to stand up.

"yeah?" he asks getting closer to you.

you wordlessly bring him back into the heated house and navigate until you find a mostly empty hallway (all while he keeps annoying you by repeatedly asking what you want).

his back falls against the wall, "way to confuse the fuck outta me. what's good?" the hand you were once holding dives into his front pocket out of habit and the other continues to hold his beer.

"i just need you to take me home."

"y/n, i'm no longer driving myself home, let alone you," he shakes his head.

"right, i figured, smartass."

"glad those comprehension skills still work. grab your phone and order an uber, 'm sure you dont need my help."

"matt. i want you to come home with me." you sigh in defeat.

"oh shit." matt dead pans. "ohhh shit." his eyes widen before a a laugh breaks through his closed mouth, "sunshine...you're tryna' fuck?" he looks up at you from his spot against the wall.

you scramble a lie to make yourself look less pathetic, "you're a last resort trust me," you roll your eyes. this was way better in your drunken mind than reality.

"still made the list though!" matt jokes, "wow. who knew you were so romantic? bringing me all the way over here just to tell me you wanna fuck. and at your place? how sweet," he can't help but poke fun.

"fuck you," you say under your breath.

"well only because you asked so kindly!" he goes to wrap his arms around you before you push him back against the wall.

"are you done?"

"i guess." he shrugs.

"so will you or not," you try to keep your confidence and not allow matt's comments to embarrass you. "it's fine if not, just-"

"yeah," matt's smirk slowly grows. "meet me out front, i'll have to go lie to my brothers but i can be quick."

౨ৎ

"why am i shocked you're actually here?" you ask as you shut the car door and look over to matt, phone screen reflected on his face.

the car begins to speed out of the neighborhood as he turns off his phone and shoves it in his jacket pocket, "let's be serious for one second," he reaches over and pulls at the end of your dress, "you wear this and look like that and you think i'd say no? i'd be crazy. i mean, yeah, your fuckin' mouth can irritate me to pieces but-"

"actually just shut up, matt" you remove your head from leaning against the window and move across the middle seat to kiss him. you pull apart fairly quickly though, "how are you less mean yet extra annoying when drunk? i shoulda went with my last last resort." you shake your head.

matt grumbles before leaning to kiss you again.

౨ৎ

after a car ride full of teasing and rushed kisses, you both made it to your apartment complex.

you fumble with your purse as you search for your house keys, distracted by matt’s lips moving over your neck. you pinch your eyes shut in frustration, “mattt, give me a second,” you nudge your shoulder into him to get him off of you.

“let me see it,” he grumbles grabbing your purse and finding your keys with ease, moving his arms around you and unlocking the door.

“you make it look so easy,” you breathe and open the door with your body pressed against it.

matt lets go of you and follows you inside.

you lean a hand on the wall next to the door to quickly remove your heeled shoes and matt watches you with dopey eyes and glossy, excessively bitten lips before deciding to take his shoes off as well.

you walk closer to him once he’s done, your dress riding up your legs and barely covering your ass at this point. you look up to him and softly ask, “do you need anything to drink?”

he brings his right hand up to hold your face and moves close to your lips, “you know i don’t want a fucking drink.”

“you don’t?" your pout is genuine even though you're teasing him. he knows you're sweet enough to really get him a drink if he desired. he draws his thumb across your slumped lip before you speak again, "well…what do you want, matt?” you move your hands to the waist of his jeans, tracing the outer seam.

he pinches his eyes shut and moves his head to lean on your shoulder, he’s not gonna be the one to say he wants to fuck you. you want to fuck him, that's why he's here. so he’s definitely not begging you to touch him.

“hmm…?” you hum as your hands go to either side of his face, bringing him back to look at you. he looks into your eyes as he drops his hand from your jaw. you notice the pink splotches that still linger on his face, recovering from the heat of the party atmosphere and now the heat of this moment.

matt looks down at your lips, “you know what i want, and you want it too.” his hands travel down and push the front of your mini dress up as he feels over your underwear.

you mouth hangs open and you move your hips against him softly. begging him with your actions rather than your words. and those tend to speak the loudest.

"so what do you want, y/n?" he asks quietly without breaking eye contact.

"matt-" you breathe, wanting him to do anything more than a juvenile rub over your underwear.

he licks and sucks your neck as your hands capture his hair. “where do you want me?” he sounds out of breath when he asks so close to your ear. he finally moves his fingers past the waistband of your panties to nudge your clit as he taunts, “hmm…? you want me right here?”

you whine, “we can’t right here."

"why not?" he breathes against you, annoyed.

"i can't have you fuck me in the foyer i share with my best friend,” you just know andrea would be pissed if either of your body’s fluids made it onto the freshly vacuumed carpet.

he retracts his hand, “then why are we just standing around? show me to your room,” his voice is rough.

“why don’t you try to guess which is my room is mine?” you smile with your faces far too close together.

“why don’t you be a good host and give me a tour?” he retorts.

“that’s not fun,” you push.

he growls and lifts you up, walking past the living room and into a hallway that splits in two (all while you incessantly kiss his jaw and upper neck). he huffs at his ridiculous situation and reaches for the first door he sees. a toilet sits at the end of the room and a cluttered counter to the left.

“bathroom,” you mutter with a giggle.

matt responds with a snipped tone, “mhm yeah i’ve seen one before.”

his grip on your waist grows harsher as he opens and closes a multitude of doors with you commentating over.

he finally makes it to your room with you mocking him in a cheer of celebration as you climb off of him and turn on the dim light near your bedside.

matt would normally take in the room around him but his headspace is far too sexually frustrated to give a shit about how you decorate your room.

he opts to stand near the door and eye you from afar, wanting nothing more than to pounce on you.

you notice this (as well as the fact that matt hasn’t listened to a word you’ve said about minding the mess of clothes piled in the corner from your struggle to pick an outfit earlier) and slowly walk back towards him. the soft yellow light blurs behind you and highlights the edges of your figure in a mouthwateringly pretty way that makes matt antsy.

when you’re close enough matt somehow pulls you closer. his nose nudges against yours messily before capturing your mouth in a heated kiss. your hands feel for the end of his shirt and move underneath it to touch his warm lower stomach. you can feel how his body expands and curls as he breathes through your unwavering kiss.

despite wanting to keep the tension high, you break apart from matt to tease a bit, “can i touch you?” his face is scrunched absentmindedly from his desire and his lower lip finds its place tucked behind his front teeth when he rushes a nod to you in encouragement.

you push him away from you softly, “take your jacket off.” you move to your bed and after the sound of a jacket hitting the floor, you find him right on your feet, chasing your kiss and heat.

he leans over you and immediately finds your lips once more. now that he’s on top of you he finds himself wanting to get you to say how bad you want him.

his hands meet your thighs and move your dress as they run up to your rib cage before moving back down to squeeze your thighs.

matt’s surprised when you’re the one to involve your tongue in the mix, making the kiss sloppy yet intimate. your hand then crawls into his hair to keep him close.

but he doesn’t let you hold him for long, taking your hand from his hair and laying it against the bed, raising himself above you. “what do you want sweetheart?” he lowers his other hand towards your stomach, grazing your tattooed hip gently before feeling your underwear.

“you,” you respond in defeat and desperation.

“oh? and you want me to…?”

“matt. touch me,” you take your free hand and guide his own under the waistband of your underwear.

“but i thought you wanted to touch me? now you’re just bein’ selfish.” he keeps his hand close to your pussy, running his index finger across your lips kindly.

you look at him with droopy eyes, “please."

so matt lets you be selfish. he selfishly wants to taste you after all. he lowers himself to your face and captures your bottom lip once more, sucking then biting down slightly before moving his face further down your body slowly. your dress maintains its rippled shape in a bunch right where your tits lie.

he makes his way to your tattooed lower hip, still a little impressed with his execution of the cartoon (as it's not his typical style) and showing this with a kiss, then a light lick (making you shudder the tiniest bit). as he furthers, he finds the space on the bed is not enough, opting for the plush, carpeted floor.

matt sits on the back of his calves to watch how your body reacts when he pulls your panties down, only he misses the satisfied smile curling onto your face when you move your head to the the side.

he shifts your pliable legs to give him a better view of your heat's entirety, spreading your folds gently as he gathers spit in his mouth and spills it onto your clit. his eyes flicker from your face (choking on a moan) to the bead of saliva mixing with your natural slick that has him on edge. “that feel good?” he asks and moves his fingers up and down your pussy slowly, bumping your clit but not lingering long enough.

“yes...so good, matt,” you encourage in a broken whimper.

he hums, placing his mouth over your clit and sucking hard. you moan out lowly and you can't help but close your legs around matt's head. he normally would lay them flat again and tease you but he finds the pressure and dizziness turns him on so much more. his hands rest at your hips, moving up and down and your legs cradle his head as he works his mouth and tongue on you.

"mm fuck," you reach above your head to grip the soft colored comforter in your manicured hands. matt never falters, his licks only become needier when he adds two of his fingers to curl inside of you.

he continues his restless actions until the moment right before you have registered you were about to cum. then, he's immediately removing himself and standing up, wiping his face with one hand as the other hurries to unbuckle his chunky black belt.

you grumble and fix yourself to sit up and look at him, now discarding the belt into his own growing pile of clothes on your floor. he begins to unbutton his pants when he hears you whine and pull at his ego to get him to come back. “how fucking typical. should’ve known i'd barely get one orgasm, let alone two out if this.”

matt immediately stops unzipping his jeans and comes closer to stand above you, his face clearly annoyed. he gives your pussy a light slap, making you whimper. “keep talking shit, brat.” he grits through his teeth and slaps it again making a filthily wet sound that has you moaning.

he doesn't stop at that; he begins to harshly rub your clit back and forth without mercy, keeping eye contact as his face hovers your own, before moving his fingers inside of you while his thumb continues to work your clit. continuous loud moans crowd your room before you eventually meet your high with rolled eyes and shaking legs.

matt quickly pulls his fingers out and wipes them against your thigh leaving it sticky and shiny like golden honey. finally able to unzip and remove his jeans and boxers, allowing his needy cock to be free from the tightness. you move to the edge of your bed when you hear the small clap against his stomach, eager to find matt as ready for you as you are for him.

he watches from above as you admire his length while your fingers ghost over his sensitive dick. you then bring your mouth closer, dribbling spit over his tip and wrapping a fist around him. you look up into his hooded eyes for approval then take him in your mouth and jerk the rest of him with your hand.

he groans and bites his pink and undoubtedly swollen bottom lip as you suck and hollow your cheeks around him, even taking him all the way at some points. and though this feels fucking amazing, he wants nothing more than to be inside of you right now.

he holds the base of your neck then squeezes lightly to get you to pull away, spit erotically traveling with your lips. “can i fuck you now?” his voice is perfectly hushed yet demanding in tone.

you nod and matt wipes your lips, “good, take that dress off.” he removes his own shirt and reaches for a spare condom he’d put in his pocket before leaving the house (for no particular reason). he turns back to you, with your breasts now on display for him, ripping the package with his teeth.

you motion for him to give it to you and he complies. somehow even when you’re literally putting a condom over his dick, you’re a sweetheart about it: kissing it once he’s fully covered and turning yourself over onto all fours without him having to ask. because you understand yourself and have the confidence to choose the position you’d like to be fucked in. and matt would be lying if he said that isn't so fucking attractive.

he smirks as he adjusts himself on the bed, feeling out every inch of your full ass before moving his hands to squeeze your waist. you lay your head against the plush comforter, arching yourself further in anticipation. “matt,” you blubber out a whine.

he takes the base of his cock and guides it through your folds, “mhm…i know.” he sees your face twist in amusement, “oh, you like that, huh?”

you lick your lips and nod your head before matt finally pushes himself fully inside of you. his hips start in slow, rhythmic patterns before becoming uncontrolled and incomplete- and the same goes for your moans.

matt's almost hypnotized by the way your ass moves in reaction to his thrusts (slowing himself down just to watch in detail and only speeding up when you start to get really antsy over it).

as you both get sloppier and chase your highs, matt decides to flip you over and tuck your legs into your chest for a different angle. there's something especially needy in the way he rubs at your clit and makes a mess of your tits with his mouth that drives you insane with pleasure.

"my- shit!" you moan harshly under matt.

"hold it," he huffs.

"can't," you whimper, "just-"

"shhh," matt captures your lips as he quickens his pace, feeling his own climax approaching. after a few moments you're breaking the kiss to roll your head away, exposing your neck as you uncontrollably cum around matt.

"fuck," he moans, stilling his movements to maximize his release.

he takes a moment to breathe before removing himself from you, immediately fucking his fingers into you while rubbing your weak clit (just to be annoying) until you push him away and tell him to fuck off.

he lets out a chuckle as he removes the condom and discards it appropriately. when he comes back over to you you're on your side with your own arm wrapped around your waist in comfort.

matt sits next to you, "that good for you?"

you just nod and bite back a smile.

matt hums in pride, running a hand over your exposed ass before leaning down to kiss and suck a dark hickey into the skin.

"c'mere," you tug his hand.

he complies and you turn to open your legs for him once more, grinding a bit once the two of you begin to kiss again.

you reach between the two of you, taking matt's half-hard dick in your hand and stroking. as you pick up your pace he whines and begins to thrust into your hand in need.

until you hear your front door open. to which you push matt off of you and on to the floor, hearing him groan as you snap at him to get in your closet.

you crawl under your comforter while matt hurries to gather his things from your floor and get into your closet.

you hear andrea stumble a little making her way through the house and you catch your breath just as she knocks on your door and cracks it to check if you're sleeping.

"y/n, you awake?" she slurs a whisper.

"yes. hi drea, how'd you get home?"

she opens the door a little further but continues to lean on the door frame, "how did you get home? was lookin' all over like 'where's my girl?' everyone was usless though," she sighs.

"sorry, i took an uber," you giggle, "i got sleepy, i guess."

"mhm...you and me both." she yawns expectedly.

"you should get some sleep, we can talk in the morning, okay?" you smile from your bed.

andrea nods, "'kay, love you." she leaves with a sleepy smile.

"love you," you reply as she shuts the door again.

you let out a relieved breath, glad she hadn't suggested a sleepover like you'd both normally do when drunk.

matt walks out of your closet, almost fully clothed, buckling his belt again, "gave me fucking rug burn, thanks."

you move a hand over your face, "sorry- i just don't need anyone seeing you here."

"'s fine," he shrugs and takes a seat on your bed, "how long is it gonna take her to sleep so i can leave?"

"less than five minutes," you pick at one of your acrylic nails, seeing matt place his jacket on your bed makes you almost laugh to yourself, "shit, i left my jacket at erin's."

matt grins to himself and adds, "shit, i left my car at erin's," with a shake of his head.

you both laugh softly before it fizzles.

matt's back is towards you as he opens his phone to order another uber home. and now the silence brings you back into reality and suddenly you're feeling sick to your stomach about erin.

it takes you a little but you eventually mumble towards his back, "matt you didn’t fuck erin, right?"

"no," his voice sounds distracted and like he wouldn't care even if he did.

you focus on a loose thread in your comforter that you pick at, "...kay. not that it matters 'cause this was only for tonight. but i know i would probably die from guilt knowing i fucked with you after she did."

he turns to see you genuinely out of it and seeming to shelter yourself under your blanket. he leans towards you and rubs your arm softly before whispering, "don't make it a big fucking deal, nothing's different." his stare actually makes you feel far worse but you nod as if you agree anyway.

he stands up and puts his jacket on, “you sleep well okay, sunny?”

"shut the fuck up, you don't care about how i sleep," you whisper.

he breathes a laugh and reaches for your door.

꩜⋆ ˚｡⋆🎱˚

tag list (ily):

@rootbeerworshiper

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets fan fiction #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets smut #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo #matt sturniolo x black!reader

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huramuna · 9 months

Text

growing on you - oneshot.

modern aemond x (ex) girlfriend reader

content: smut (specifics under the cut), afab reader, angst, unhealthy coping mechanisms, descriptions of depression and its effect on the body, probably an unhealthy relationship, aemond being an idiot, probably ooc aemond, reader not described, no use of y/n, targtowers seek therapy: the story, fluff at the end bc hehe

work is 18+, minors do not interact or you shall be smited.

word count: 7.4k (oops)

a/n: i've had this one in the drafts for a while. tweaked to be a fun 'lil angsty end of year holiday fic. as is my motto: fuck it we ball. a/n 2: i pivoted from a third person pov fic to a second person pov fic 3/4 through writing this using the find and replace tool, so if there are grammar errors, i apologize! also my first time doing second person pov, weehee.

monsters - all time low ft. blackbear • why do i - set it off ft. hatsune miku

warnings: p in v, creampie, cockwarming, slightly tipsy sex

Everything in your life was enveloped by him. your clothes smelled like him, small strands of his hair were woven into every nook and cranny of your apartment together, his fitness regime protein powder and ketogenic supplements were littered in your kitchen cabinets.

You couldn’t get rid of him, not even if you tried. Aemond was all you'd ever known— you have known one another since the age of seven, and have been in a relationship since fourteen. You were both now twenty-six. Twelve years you’ve been together romantically (longer, even, but you were both too stubborn to admit it) and nineteen years you’ve been in each other's lives in some capacity or another.

You’ve been involved together longer than you’ve not known each other. You hardly knew who you were without Aemond— a thought that scared you deeply.

It’s been two weeks since he moved out, only temporarily he’d said. He needed space. He would still pay his share of the rent and you didn’t need to worry about that.

But what about everything else? What about him warming you at night? Comforting you when you had nightmares? What about his items in the fridge, surely you’d spoil if he didn’t use them soon. What about Vhagar? Their— no, his geriatric cat that he took with him to God knows where— she must be terrified, surely.

Was he giving Vhagar her medicine before bed? Of course he was— he was the more responsible one anyway.

You paced back and forth until the soles of your feet ached and then some. Knowing Aemond for so long, you had intimate knowledge on everything about him, you were woven into each other's DNA like vines on a trellis, growing and expanding until you swallowed all of the other plants whole.

That is what happened, wasn’t it? You grew too large, too comfortable and became stagnant. You weren't unaware of his rising workload at his firm, but he had always been a workaholic— throughout their teenage years, through college and grad school. It never slowed him down so you didn’t understand the change in behavior.

Aemond was closed off. He always was a bit emotionally stunted due to his upbringing or lack thereof from his father and everything that happened surrounding his eye, but he had a soft side for you, always for you. You could retrace every part of him perfectly from memory, always could make him laugh, could comfort him when he recused himself, and the rare times he did cry, you were there.

But the last few months there was a shift— a change in him. Where he had been hard to open before, like a rusty hinge just requiring some oil, he was now padlocked, ironclad and impenetrable. Attempts to talk were shrugged off, ignored or diverted.

“Please, just talk to me, Aemond,” you said one night as you sat on the couch. You were watching your collective favorite show and he wasn’t even commenting on it like he usually did, he was silent and deadpanned. “I don’t understand what’s wrong if you don’t talk about it.”

“There's nothing wrong, therefore, nothing to talk about. I’m just tired from work,” he responded gruffly. “Stop whining.”

His tone was clipped and harsh, sending a wave of hurt trickling through your body. you were overly emotional, where he was under emotional— usually, you balanced each other out and struck a good middle ground, but in times like these, during fights, things would get explosive.

The tears started right away, your little sniffling cries stifled by a hand over your mouth. You turned away, wrapping yourself in the blanket.

“Seriously?” he growled, “I didn’t even say anything and you’re fucking crying again.”

“I d-don’t appreciate your tone, Aemond— you’re being mean,” you sniffed, wiping away tears that were soon just replaced by new ones. “Please, don’t be mean to me.” you were always soft hearted, and it was one of the things Aemond loved about you— or he had loved at one point.

“I’m not being mean,” he pinched his brow, “you’re overreacting and I do not have the capacity to deal with your antics anymore.”

Of course, your mind hit the panic button. ‘Anymore’ meaning that he didn’t want to deal with you at all, ever. The tears increased and you recused yourself further into a ball.

“Fucking hell.” he cursed, getting up from the couch and stomping outside to the balcony, lighting up a cigarette. He was out there for about an hour— you had cried yourself to sleep.

It was many situations like that for weeks that finally just… broke him.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said one day, slamming his keys down on the kitchen table, “I seriously cannot deal with your childish shit anymore— I’m working my ass off at the firm, actually bringing in money and I still have to come home and tend to you. you’re twenty-six, grow up and stop crying at every little thing. It’s fucking infuriating.”

“You know I can’t control that part of me!” you screamed back, your temper rising immediately to match his. The words flowing out of your mouth didn’t feel like yours, but some sort of defensive mechanism. “You can’t do this anymore? You’re not doing anything Aemond, except pushing me away. God, you haven’t even touched me in weeks.”

“Oh, so this is about sex?” he countered, getting closer to you, nostrils flaring. “You’re mad because I won’t fuck you? Are you that desperate?”

That one stung, to be sure. Aemond had been your first and only— you only ever knew him, only ever had him. “No, not just sex,” you murmured, “you haven’t even… just touched me normally. No hugs, no little caresses, nothing— it's as if I’m an aversion to you.”

He backed up from you, “Maybe we’re just too close,” he admitted, “We’ve been together too long. It's not fun anymore, it’s not new— it’s the same old, same old, going through the motions for release, not because I actually like it.”

“I don’t understand.” you said, your voice sounding disconnected from your body. The tips of your fingers felt numb, the numbness spreading through your body, your heart pounding in your chest as if it wanted to escape.

“I need space. I need to think about this.”

“This?”

“Us. I need to think about us and if this is something I really want,” he paused, “You’re… too much and not enough right now.”

“Wh— Aemond, please,” you whispered, your voice broken, “What can I do? I’ll… I’ll change, I won’t cry or whine anymore— please.”

He stared at you, his prosthetic eye unmoving while his remaining one bored into you, “I will think about it.”

“What… does this mean?”

“We are taking a break, alright? I’ll have my essentials out and I’m going to stay with Aegon.”

“Please— don’t go. I need you.”

That was the end of that conversation. That was the last time you spoke, two weeks ago. You expected him to text you at some point, to check in on you, to maybe try to talk things out.

Nothing. There's been nothing. Radio silence.

You felt isolated— you had no family, as your parents were estranged from you. you couldn’t go to Aemond’s family, as close as you were to them all, it just simply wasn’t an option.

You didn’t have friends. All you knew was Aemond.

It was early in the evening and you were in a deep pit of self-loathing. You decided to text him.

You swallowed thickly— the green meant he either turned off his phone or blocked you. You hoped that it wasn’t the latter.

The next few weeks were a blur. You felt like you were barely living, merely going through the motions to stay alive— not that you really were.

You woke up, went to work, came home, scrounged up food and then went to sleep. Rinse and repeat.

Weeks become months of your monotony, and no word from Aemond. He still had half of his stuff left in the apartment, you felt like you could barely breathe. At every turn there was something to remind you of him.

You’d lived in this apartment together for four years, the evidence of your relationship etched into the very walls. It was like the space was closing in on you and you couldn’t catch your breath, barely keeping your head above water.

You had to move out— you had to get away.

You managed to find a place, a cheap studio above a coffee shop downtown. The landlord was an old lady who was sympathetic to your situation and agreed to let you take the space quickly.

There was still the matter of your and Aemond’s current apartment— or, rather, it was just Aemond’s now.

Saving yourself the embarrassment of seeing if you were still blocked, you called Aegon. He was a better messenger than none.

“Hey, Egg,” you said, sitting on the couch. you bounced your knee up and down, biting at the skin of your lip. You and Aegon were amicable, not necessarily as close as you and Aemond, but you grew up together. Aegon ran in different social circles than you and you were somewhat polar opposites so you never really stuck— you did have your phases of friendship, though– which pissed Aemond off to no end. “Um, I don’t know if this is the right way to go about things but, do you mind relaying a message to Aemond for me?”

“Yeah, ‘spose I could. What’s up?” Aegon replied, his tone nonchalant like usual.

“I’m moving out of the apartment into my own place, so I guess he can go back. I’ll have all my stuff out by tomorrow.”

“Fuckin’ finally,” Aegon said, “He’s been driving me up the wall with his tidy, feng shui bullshit. He rearranged my whole place like five times and has taken up all the space in my cabinets with that nasty no-carb shit,” he paused for a moment, “I… didn’t mean that in a bad way to you, ‘course. I’m sorry it had to come to this. He’s a fucking idiot.”

That made you laugh, genuinely. Your first laugh in months. “Yeah– he… tends to do that. He left half of his stuff here, it feels like I’m living in the twilight zone. I just… gotta get away, you know?”

“Hey, I get that– you don’t have to explain yourself to me. He’s a dickhead and doesn’t understand how good he has it. If you want, I can bring my truck over tomorrow and help you move stuff.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Egg.”

“I want to– please.”

Your brow furrowed– Aegon usually wasn’t so persistent on anything unless it involved drinking or drugs. But, you hadn’t had real human contact in eons besides at work so… maybe it could be good.

“Okay, see you tomorrow. Thank you, really.”

–

It was rainy the next day– nasty and wet, droplets pouring down like tears. It felt somewhat familiar.

But, Aegon showed up like he promised, rolling up in his old, fading yellow pick-up truck. His hair was much shorter than you remembered and he looked actually well kept– Aemond must’ve been whipping him into shape.

He waved and ran through the rain, standing under the eave, “So– it’s raining.”

You snorted, “I think I can see that,” you teased with a tiny smile, “Not sure when it’ll let up.”

“I brought uh…” he paused for a moment to think, stretching out his arms in a square shape, “Y’know?”

“A tarp?”

“Yup– that,” he gave a lopsided grin, inviting himself in through the open door, “you aren’t going to kick me out if I don’t take off my shoes, right?”

You glanced down at his boots– they were a bit muddy and definitely wet. Aemond wouldn’t have let him step two feet through the threshold without taking them off. But– you weren't Aemond. “No, keep them on if you want. It’s not my problem if you track dirt through the place anyway.”

He nodded, taking his phone out of his pocket for a moment and shooting a quick message to someone. “Sorry I haven’t been around, it’s just… he’s my brother. It would be kind of… I dunno, crossing some sort of unsaid boundary if I visited his… girlfriend?”

“Ex-girlfriend. I guess,” you corrected softly– but you didn’t really know yourself what it was. He wouldn’t talk to you, “It’s fine. I didn’t expect anyone to really reach out anyway, because of that… unsaid boundary thing.”

“We should’ve. you’re a part of our family with or without Aemond. Me, Helaena and Daeron have a whole group chat about it. Even mom asked where you’ve been,” he scratched the back of his head absentmindedly as he sent out another text, “Someone should’ve checked up sooner.”

“You’re acting like I’m some sort of neglected puppy, Aegon,” you turned to him, “... do I really look so terrible?”

Aegon glanced up at you, his mouth formed in a hard line. He cracked his knuckles, shrugging his shoulders. “I won’t lie to you. You look half dead.”

You blinked. Hard. Moving towards a mirror in the hall, you looked at yourself. Dark circles under sunken eyes, your skin was a pale pallor and your hair needed a trim desperately, your split ends curled and fettered. You were gaunt, as well– having lost a bit of weight over the months. “Jesus,” you muttered. Glancing over at Aegon, he was texting again. “Sending an update to the group chat, I guess? ‘Good news, she’s still alive, barely’?”

He snorted, “Yeah– something like that,” finally, he locked his phone and slipped it in his pocket. “I made sure to text Aemond, too.”

Your mouth felt dry at the mention. “Why?”

“He asked.”

“Asked?”

“He asked me to… make sure you were okay.”

Goosebumps prickled at your skin, the ever familiar feeling of nausea and despair swirling in the pit of your stomach. Nibbling at your lip more, you turned away, feeling a bit too exposed. “And what’d you say?”

“I said you were alive but you are not okay.”

Your lips pursed into a line as you tasted a bit of copper in your mouth from chewing on your lip. “I guess that’s right,” you muttered, “Why would he ask?”

“Aemond is… complicated. you know that better than anyone. I don’t know what kind of bug he has up his ass these last few months but… even through all of this, he still cares.”

“Like hell he does,” you snapped, feeling the sting of tears, “If he did, he would’ve given us a chance to talk it out, to… to try, maybe even go to therapy, I don’t fucking know– he would’ve reached out– anyone should’ve reached out,” your hand went to your hair, right at your hairline at your scalp, picking at the hairs there– another self-destructive habit you’ve picked up in your months of isolation, “I’m so fucking alone, Aegon. He knows… you all know I have absolutely no one else. I’ve been going through this on my own. I have no friends, no family– no brother to go live with when I need space, no family group chat. I don’t have shit, Aegon. All I’ve ever known in my life is him and you and Helaena and Daeron and mom. Why… why does it feel like I was cast off the island without even… a tribal council or something?” you sniffed, the tears coming in full force now.

Aegon was silent, coming up behind you. “I’m… sorry,” he murmured, putting his hands on your shoulders, as frail and skeletal as you were, “We should’ve been better. We… will be better.” he turned you around and pulled you into his chest, enveloping you in his arms. “We thought you would’ve been… fine without him. He made it seem like that– that you were strong enough. I only figured it out yesterday when he was up my ass about texting him as soon as I saw you. He needed to know if you were feeding yourself, if you were keeping up with your medication, if you still had nightmares. A fuckin’... laundry list of questions– I told him to stick his questions up where the sun don’t shine and to see for himself,” he took a breath, “He settled on one question– if you were okay.”

“I think he got his fucking answer, then,” you whispered, “I am not okay. I haven’t been okay in months. I… I need help.”

“I know,” Aegon shifted you slightly to look at your face, “We’ll help you– I promise, you won’t be alone anymore. Look, I’ll even add you to the group chat, okay? I’ll rename it to ‘Aemond Sucks’, how does that sound?”

You cracked a tiny smile, sniffling. “Yeah… I’d like that.”

–

You ended up moving your belongings to your new place the same day, effectively ridding yourself of the constant shadow of Aemond’s memory.

Aegon even took you to Michael’s and HomeGoods to get stuff for your little studio, so you could really make it yours. It was a bit intimidating at first– you weren't used to being able to decorate things the way you wanted, as Aemond always opted to keep things simple and minimalistic.

You, admittedly, went all out. Your new studio looked like a Pinterest board titled ‘cottagecore’. You were incredibly happy with it all, practically jumping up and down at it.

“It looks so good! I love these little mushroom chairs you picked out, Egg,” you hummed, patting some plush felted stools in the shape of mushrooms, which you put near the window. “I bet Helaena would love it.”

“Let’s take some pictures for the group chat, Hel will literally be all over this. you two always love that cottagecore, fairycore, fantasy… shit.” he grinned, stooping down to take some very out of perspective pictures of the mushroom chairs, making them look fifty feet tall.

You settled into your new place quickly, having Helaena, Aegon and Daeron over quite often for drinks and movies. Your health steadily improved until you were mostly back to normal physically– there would be a lot of scars internally, however that would take longer to heal, if you ever would. You had developed a trust issue complex since Aemond’s unceremonious exit from your life and hadn’t gone on any dates, you didn’t know when or if you would ever be ready. They did you the courtesy of not mentioning Aemond, until Daeron said something odd.

It was about four months after you moved in, and almost a full year since you’d last seen Aemond. You were all a few mixed drinks in, Aegon had made them and you were heavy on the alcohol, light on the ‘mix’, and you were all kicked back on the couch, with Aegon laying on the mushroom chairs stacked next to each other, lazed back like a cat.

“Mom says she wants you over for Christmas dinner,” Daeron said, taking a sip of his drink, “She figured it’d be fine with Aemond going off with his new…” he blinked, catching himself.

Helaena nudged Daeron in the ribs as a warning, staring at their friend warily.

“... his new? His new what?” you asked, your voice so quiet that it must’ve been like a squeak.

“... new girlfriend.” he finished.

You were silent for a while before sighing. “I figured it would happen eventually. I can only hope that it… wasn’t too soon after we broke up– or whatever… happened.”

“We all told him it was fucked up that he just left and ghosted you, lovey. Even mom got on his ass about it, and he is her favorite child who usually can do no wrong.” Helaena put her drink down, wrapping her arm around you. “You should come to Christmas dinner, everyone would be super happy to see you! And Aemond won’t be there, so even more reason to come. Please.” she whimpered, using her best puppy-dog face.

You mulled it over in your mind for a few moments. You couldn’t think of anything more painful than being alone during the holidays, so you nodded.

–

It was snowing on Christmas day, the flurries coming down and melting against your skin as you waited for Aegon to pick you up. You were wearing a red checkered tapestry dress with a flannel jacket, a white fluffed scarf wrapped around your neck and lower face. As soon as you saw the familiar color of Aegon’s truck, you practically booked it into the passenger seat.

“Merry Christmas, you look fantastic,” Aegon mused, ever the charmer. “I’ve got the heater on full blast, I promise– but y’know my old boy’s puttering these days. We’ll need to get some speed for it to really warm up.”

“Mmm,” you murmured, your teeth chattering, “S’cold.”

He reached back and grabbed a well-used blanket, draping it over your legs. “Better?”

“... yeah– but,” you blinked, raising a brow. “What do you have this in the truck for?”

Aegon laughed as he began the drive to his family’s estate. “I think you know.”

“Please don’t tell me you’ve fucked someone on this blanket, Aegon.”

“Someones– not just someone. But I keep it clean, no worries!”

The drive to the Targaryen estate was about an hour and a half from town, nestled deep into an expansive forest where there weren’t any other homes in at least five miles. It was a gorgeous, Victorian style mansion and according to Daeron, was most certainly haunted. You had been here numerous times, of course, but it’d been a while. As you pulled up in the driveway, you saw Alicent standing outside the door dressed in a gorgeous red and green festive dress, hair curled to perfection. Nothing less was expected of Alicent, though.

“Oh, my darling,” Alicent cooed, holding her arms out to caress who she thought of as her fifth child. “It’s been too long, I’ve missed you.”

Your heart warmed under Alicent’s caress, someone who had become more of a mother figure to you than your actual mother. You sniffed, pressing your forehead into Alicent’s shoulder. “Missed you too, mom.”

“Come on, you both can cry inside in the nice toasty house, yeah? I’m freezing my balls off here, mom.”

Alicent huffed, ushering both of you inside. “Don’t be vulgar, son– it’s Christmas.”

Helaena and Daeron were already there, as well as Otto, who gave you a stiff nod as a greeting, as was his usual means of communication.

You settled into the kitchen, Alicent pouring everyone apple cider and dishing out at least six types of holiday themed cookies. About an hour after arriving, there was a knock on the door.

“Oh, that must be Rhaenyra and Laena. Can you answer the door, darling? I need to take the roast out of the oven. I’m sure they would be happy to see you!”

“Mhm!” you mused through bites of cookies. You loved Rhaenyra and Laena, who were technically married with husbands, as was Alicent, but the three of them were in a secret, not so secret to anyone with eyes, polyamorous relationship. It always amused all of their kids when they tried to hide it.

You turned the doorknob, fully expecting to see Rhaenyra and Laena. It was not.

Aemond.

“Fuck.” you blurted out, eyes wide. It had been the better part of a year since you had last seen him. His hair was longer now, gathered into a low bun at the nape of his neck, his cheeks a bit more gaunt. He still wore his earrings and his rings– including the one you had given him almost a decade ago.

“Shit.” he responded, seemingly caught equally off guard by seeing you again. The pupil of his non-prosthetic eye dilated until the iris was almost consumed in black, before he flexed his hand and reeled himself in.

You couldn’t help but notice he was alone– no ‘new girlfriend’ as Daeron had put it. “Aemond,” you breathed, feeling like you were outside of your own body, your head filled with fluff and static. “Merry… Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.” he responded gruffly, “Can I come in?”

“Oh– yeah, duh,” you chastised yourself, stepping aside to let him in. “Sorry.”

“Mm.” he grunted in his usual manner. That seemed to be a habit he hadn’t dropped.

You all but retreated to the kitchen, the expression on your face telling everything. Aegon, Daeron, and Helaena gathered around you.

“I didn’t invite him, I swear.” Aegon whispered.

“Well, neither did I!” Daeron professed.

“Don’t look at me, I didn’t invite him. He left me on read three weeks ago when I sent him a picture of a bug on my windowsill.” Helaena sniffed.

A new voice chimed in. “I invited him,” Alicent spoke, breaking up the little posse, “I told him to come over or he would be grounded for three months.”

All four of you stared at Alicent, deadpanned.

“Mom– he’s… almost twenty-seven. you can’t ground him,” Daeron said, confused. “And moreover, why? Wasn’t he busy?”

“Well, first off, he is my son, so I wanted to see him for Christmas. Two, I believe we have someone here who has some unresolved issues with him.” Alicent responded, staring right at you pointedly.

“... I don’t know… I… I don’t know if I can talk to him. It’s been too long… I feel like I was just getting over all of this.”

“Well, do I have any say in this?” Aemond barged into the circle, his hands in his pockets.

You suddenly felt overwhelmed, the familiar bubbling of everything being too much rising in your stomach. You were teleported back to months ago when you were barely alive, trapped in your own mind. “I… I need… I need a minute.” you muttered, your voice sounding distorted as you made your way to the bathroom, turning on the faucet. Chest heaving, you were already crying, the waterworks starting somewhere between the hallway and the sink.

“You’re always fucking crying, I can’t take it anymore.” Aemond’s voice from months and months ago echoed in your head, causing the tears to flow more. You bit against your lip, tasting blood right away as you willed yourself to stop crying.

“S-stop… stop crying,” you whispered, fingers messing up your hair as you held fistfuls of it. You couldn’t catch your composure for the life of you, sliding against the bathroom wall onto the floor.

Vision blurring, you don’t know how long you were incoherent for. When you came back to yourself, Aemond was in front of you, crouched down.

“Hey,” he murmured softly, the door closed behind him, “It’s okay.”

You swallowed, still numb as he pried your fists from your head, out of your hair, smoothing it down.

“Look at me, can you do that? Nod if you can hear me.”

You nodded slowly, the feeling coming back to your extremities in a sprightly tickling sensation. You blinked tears from your eyes, the liquid smearing your vision.

Aemond rasped a thumb over your eyes, effectively clearing the obstruction from your vision. “Just breathe,” he continued to whisper. It was ever reminiscent of when he would calm you down after a nightmare, voice low and scratchy in a way that comforted you. He was so close now, closer than he’d been in forever. He still smelled the same, the scent triggering a deep aching within your chest. A scent that took you forever to get rid of, but you never truly could. “Can… we talk?” he asked then, his voice sounding more vulnerable than ever.

It felt like whiplash, visions of your previous fights plaguing you, where he had been so closed off, so far away, so distant that you couldn’t reach him– and now, he was here. In the present, in the flesh. In front of you, opened. Not opened completely, but you could see it, like the slit of a cracked door, the light bleeding through. It was there.

“... yeah.”

“I… I’m… I’m sorry. What I did was fucked up. It was fucked up and wrong and you didn’t deserve any of it.”

“You’re right about that,” you muttered, pulling your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them. “I didn’t deserve it.”

Aemond’s mouth twitched slightly before he sat down next to you, propping up his legs in a criss-cross. He opened his mouth to speak a few times, before closing it. His hands flexed and unflexed in quick succession– he was clearly thinking very carefully about his next words. “... I’ve… got issues. You know that better than anyone. I don’t know what was going through my head those months that we fought. I can hardly remember it now, it was like… I was in a fog, a haze– I was working myself half to death, I just wanted dad to notice, to fucking… appreciate me,” he put his hands on his head, “I was so… tied up in this illusion that if I made junior associate at the firm so young that he would congratulate me on my achievement and…” Aemond let out a sigh, “And… in the process… I pushed you away.”

You looked at him, feeling your gaze soften ever so slightly. You knew that his father was a sore spot for him and that trauma ran deep. “You didn’t just push me away, Aemond,” you sighed, reaching out a shaky hand to pry one of his from his face. “... if you would’ve just talked to me, I could’ve helped. You didn’t push… you… you shoved, you shoved and ran in the other direction.”

His one violet eye danced towards you. “I know. I’ve been kicking myself for it. When Aegon told me you weren’t doing well… I almost left work to see you.”

“... you did?”

“Yeah. Aegon basically told me not to– that… this was something you needed space for. Kind of like I did but… maybe in a more healthy way.”

“A text wouldn’t have hurt.”

He reached into his pocket and took out his phone– his wallpaper was still the same as it was, a picture of you, him and Vhagar very unhappy in an elf costume. He scrolled to his notes app, which was filled with messages addressed to you. “... I thought it might, after what Aegon had said. I was… ashamed of how I acted, how I handled the whole thing– how I left you alone without a word. He told me how you looked… dead. I didn’t want to make it worse.”

Your eyes scanned the messages, picking out some words. The main ones that caught your gaze were ‘sorry’, ‘love’, ‘regret’. A huge breath left your lungs, feeling as if everything had been knocked out of you at once. You felt like you were being whipped back and forth in the wind, trying to grab onto anything. If you both weren’t so stubborn and just messaged one another– well, no. You did message him, one time. “I thought you blocked me.”

“... for five minutes, maybe.”

“God, we’re so fucking stupid, Aemond.”

“You aren’t– don’t say that. I’m literally a dumbass. All of my siblings told me so, even my own mother, and you know she never curses.”

The tiniest of smiles cracked onto your face as you jostled his shoulder. “Yeah… you are a dumbass. I am allowed to say it at least once. So, um,” you shuffled slightly, “Daeron kind of let it slip that you had a new girlfriend?”

Aemond pinched his brow. “Of course he said that. He is twenty-one years old and still doesn’t know how to use his goddamn ears. I said I was seeing a new therapist, not that I had a fucking girlfriend.”

“A therapist?”

“... things got really dark for me after I moved back into our… no, my… place. After you officially moved out. It felt lifeless, all of your things were gone, the fucking warmth sucked out of the place. It felt like it’d been sterilized of anything… good. I feel into something– I don’t know, a depression? I guess, that’s what Aegon called it. He suggested I see a therapist, citing me as ‘an emotionally stunted asshole who needs more therapy than him’.” he exaggerated the last bit with air quotes, rolling his eye.

“... he isn’t wrong. I mean, I love your family, but all of you are all kinds of fucked up. Maybe I am too, practically being a part of it.”

Aemond chuckled, giving a tight lipped smile. “We are fucked up. I realized that… I really do not give a shit what my dad thinks, because nothing will ever be good enough for him. He’s so far gone now that he probably doesn’t even know we exist. I’ve come to terms with that and honestly… it feels like a weight has been lifted.”

“I’m glad you could… work through some of that, Aemond.” you say sincerely, resting your cheek on his arm absentmindedly.

“... I want to talk about us.”

“... us. Okay.”

“I don’t expect you to want to jump right back into things. It would be unfair to think that– but… maybe we could try?”

Your chest feels a bit tight at his admission– he wanted to try. Every fiber in your being wanted to say yes and jump back into it like you’d never left. But you knew you couldn’t. There were still parts of you scarred by this whole experience, some parts that may never heal. It would take a long time and a lot of talks like this to even get some semblance of what the both of you had. “Well… before we were together, believe it or not, we were friends. Could we… try that for right now?”

His chest visibly deflated a bit, but he nodded. “Whatever you need, okay?”

–

The days following Christmas, leading up to New Year’s were… different. You and Aemond were back in contact, going out for coffee and lunch a few times.

On the day before New Year’s eve, you texted him.

Turns out, timing the movie to sync with 12 am on New Year’s day to Toby Maguire saying ‘Pizza time’ was difficult. Well, it wasn’t difficult for normal people– but you and Aemond were a bit tipsy, as Aegon had left some hard apple ciders in your fridge, to which you both indulged.

“Okay, okay,” Aemond stared at his phone, “5… 4… 2… wait, no, fuck, 3… 2… I think we fucked it up– just go, go!”

Quickly, you started the movie. “Maybe we should’ve practiced– can we start over?” you plopped on the couch, sinking into the sofa and taking a swig of the cider.

“Doesn’t work like that, sweetheart. Can’t turn back time.” he mused softly, squatting down on one of the mushroom stools. “Pretty comfy.”

“Aegon picked those out, nifty, huh?”

“Nifty.” he parroted.

The movie continued on, but as it went on, there was an unspoken tension growing. Aemond hadn’t sat on the couch, but rather, the stools that were on the other side of the room. It felt like a chasm had formed, the strain almost palpable.

You chewed on your lip anxiously, contemplating whether or not to say anything. But, you had both been trying a new technique called ‘communication’ – a pretty cool and helpful thing that Aemond’s therapist had taught him. You remember laughing when he posed it that same way– but it was extremely important. You cleared your throat. “Why are you sitting all the way over there?”

“... um. I wanted to try the mushroom seats, I guess.”

“You don’t want to sit next to me?” you countered, feeling especially brave.

“Is that… alright?”

“Um, duh. I invited you over for pizza and a movie so we could… sit together. Not for you to be half a mile away sitting on a mushroom.”

“As long as it’s alright with you.” he murmured, sitting up from the mushroom stool and making his way over to you, sliding onto the couch, still a few feet away from you.

You weren’t sure if it was the atmosphere, the pent up emotions, the small buzz of alcohol, or a destructive cocktail of all three, but you inched closer to him. Closer, closer… until your thighs were touching. You glanced up at him beneath fettered lashes. “Hi.”

“Hey.” he responded, his voice low and warm. It caused a balmy and comforting vibration to go through you, reverberating in your chest.

You became all too aware of your movements, your closeness to him, the skin of your thigh grazing against his jeans as you got as close as you could. Your lips parted slightly as he stared back down at you. “Can… we?”

“Can we, what?” he murmured, lacing his fingers through your loose hair, gently grasping it at the nape of your neck. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“... kiss. A little bit.”

“Just a little bit?”

“Mhm. A teeny bit.” you leaned up, Aemond meeting you halfway as your lips came together. The culmination of your year apart, all of the emotions, the sadness, the frustration and anger, the passion, love, tears– all of it came together at this moment as the two of you melded together perfectly, as if you’d never left. You couldn’t help but let out a sigh of contentment, followed by what could only be articulated as a moan.

It caught both of you off guard, Aemond pulling away for a moment, his lips still ghosting over yours. “Fucking hell,” he breathed against your skin, sending goosebumps tingling from your tailbone up to the nape of your neck, the hairs on your body standing on end. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you,” you responded before latching onto him once more. It started off loving and slow, your lips moving against one another like two old lovers dancing together– then it began to heat up, your mouth parting to accommodate his tongue, gnashing against yours as their dance turned up a notch. Your hands roamed his body, everything you committed to memory for so many years still in its same spot. It felt good, it felt like home. “Please, Aemond– I… I need you. It’s been so long… too long…”

“Too long since I’ve had you, had this,” his hand reached down, cupping your mound still hidden beneath your panties. Somehow, you foresaw this moment before it happened and thankfully wore a light dress. “Let me in, love.”

You parted your legs, feeling the ever familiar crook of his fingers slide down the front of your panties, testing the waters. The pad of his thumb and middle finger locked on instantly to your clit, swirling the sensitive bud, sending electric shocks through your extremities. You bit your lip to stifle a moan, pressing your forehead against his. “Need you inside, now.” you all but growled as you peppered little kisses along the soft flesh of his neck.

He wouldn’t keep you waiting long, as it seemed he needed this as much as you did. He parted your panties to the side, propping you on top of him and sliding you down his length, earning a hissed gasp from both of you. It took all of his strength not to burst in you right then, as you enveloped him in your tight, wet heat. “You were made for me,” he breathed, biting down on your shoulder, leaving red marks. One of his favorite things to do was to mark you, leaving hickies in his wake as he worshiped every inch of exposed skin he could reach. “Melded so perfectly, just for me.” he grabbed the flesh of your bottom, squeezing gently at first, then landing a smack on it as he began to thrust up into you.

You nodded fervently, hiccuping little moans as you dug your face into his shoulder, biting him in turn. Your nails sunk into his skin, indenting against his spine as they always had, as they always were meant to. It felt much like a pianist resting their fingers on the ivories after a long break, the pads of your fingers sinking into the ridges of his very being. You were meant to be here, he was meant to be here. You could feel your end coming on all too soon, his cock filling every nook and cranny of you, bullying that spongy, delicate sweet spot just right. You began to clench, your tell-tale sign to him that you were close.

“I love you,” he whispered, panting slightly, using one hand to push your face back so you could meet his gaze. His wild, pupil-blown out gaze, cheeks reddened, mouth parted, brow furrowed. “I love you, I fucking love you. I missed you– fuck.”

“I l-love you,” you responded before he parted your lips with his thumb, “Love you so much– p-please, s’close.” you whined into his mouth.

“Let go, sweetheart, c’mon,” he grinned against your lips, nipping and biting at them. “Come for me.”

That was all you needed, the twine of your climax coming undone right in your core, snapping like a taut thread. Your usual habit was to hide your face in his shoulder when you came, whimpering and panting– but he didn’t let you this time. He held your face, staring at you intently as if you were a piece of fine art on display, and he was a connoisseur.

You clenched around him tightly, spurring him to his own end. His hard wrought fingers gripped your ass like it was a lifeline, grunting as he found his release deep within you, where it was always meant to be.

Coming down from your high, you slumped against his chest, mouth parted. Embarrassingly enough, a little drool wetted your lips. You were fully and thoroughly fucked out, not even registering that Tobey Maguire said “Pizza time!”

“Happy New Year, love,” Aemond murmured against your hair, nestling you tightly against him. He didn’t pull out– he preferred it this way, having you warm him through until you both fell asleep.

“... Happy New Year,” you whispered back.

–

Two and a half months later, it was Valentine's day. You and Aemond were officially dating again as of January 2nd, much to the surprise of no one.

You both took things as slow as you could, keeping separate apartments for the time being– but you’d given him a key to your place about two weeks in, and he was there all the time, taking much needed leave from work.

Unlocking the door to your apartment, you walked in, seeing Aemond lounging on the couch with a scruffy brown furball on him.

“Oh, Vhagar! You brought my baby,” you mused, dropping your items (with some grace, so as not to scare the geriatric cat), walking over, “Oh, I hope she remembers me.” you frowned, kneeling down and offering your hand to her.

“Of course she’ll remember, she yelled at me for a good three months at Aegon’s when we were without you.”

Vhagar sniffed your hand for a good minute before blinking her sleepy, lazy eyes at you, then promptly rubbing her scraggly cheek fur on your hand. You were elated, scratching her cheeks, hearing the tinkling of a little bell.

“A new collar?”

“Mhm, take a look.”

You swirled the collar around, looking for the name tag– only to find… a ring. An opal and moonstone ring. Your heart stopped in your chest as you stared at Aemond.

“I would get down on one knee– I was intending on you coming home and Vhagar running to you and then you finding it… but she’s on me, and I can’t get up. Cat rules,” he mused, unclipping the collar from her neck and slipping the ring onto your finger. “I know we’ve only been dating for… a month and a half, so stop me if it’s too soon.” he grinned, his toothy smile.

Vhagar gave a croaking meow, promptly jumping off of Aemond’s lap. As soon as the old cat was off, you threw yourself at Aemond, blubbering. “This… this…” you sniffed, unable to form words.

“Just so there isn’t any confusion… will you marry me?” he asked, wiping your tears away with his thumb.

“Yes, yes– I will,” you sniffle, burying your face in his chest and sobbing.

He let you sob on him, getting his shirt all snotty and wet, all while smiling.

After crying for at least ten minutes, you manage to take a picture, sending it to the group chat, with the caption: “I think we should add him to the chat now, guys.”

Ding.

“Is this group chat named ‘Aemond sucks’?”

#aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond x fem!reader #aemond #aemond one eye #hotd fic #aemond fanfic #aemond fluff #aemond smut #modern aemond smut #modern aemond #aemond targaryen smut #hotd smut #aemond angst #my writing

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bts-princess7 · 3 months

Text

Best friend’s dad (KTH X fém!reader)

Summary: your best friend since high school has always loved having you over, but he dad barely tried to say hi to you. If he ever did talk to you, it would be him telling you you did something wrong. That is, until the night of her graduation, when he’s forced to give you a ride.

Genre: angst, smut, teeny bit of fluff

Warnings: age gap (Tae is 42, reader is 20), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, choking, Tae is mean, slapping, Tae is a lil crazy, rough sex, sorta kidnapping, orgasm denial, oral (f&m receiving), spanking, hair pulling, hickeys, cute lil ending.

A/N: lmk if I should do a part 2 bc I have some ideas🤫. Not proofread cus i rlly wanted to post it & it’s long (the story & sumthn else). Enjoy!!

You sat across the table from your best friend, Milly’s dad. Milly had been your best friend since you transferred to the school, she was a year younger than you and it was hard for the both of you after your grad last year.

Currently, you were at Milly’s grad, her and her mom were in the bathroom, leaving you alone with her dad, Mr. Kim.

Your best friends dad had never liked you, even though he’s never said it out loud, his body language made it pretty clear.

Whenever you were over he would either hide in his room or stay on the couch the whole time, trying his hardest to ignore your presence. “What do you want?”

His voice made you jump, only then did you realize that while you zoned out, you were staring right at him. “Nothing,” you rested your chin in your hand, looking at the entrance. You desperately tried to manifest Milly and Mrs. Lin in the doorway.

Taehyung and Serine had gotten a divorce a few years ago, she had no bad blood with him, but you weren’t sure that went both ways. They got together the odd time for important events such as graduation.

You couldn’t blame her, she was such a sweet person and he was the complete opposite. Although, you could also tell why she’d put up with him for so long.

The man was gorgeous, and from what you could tell from family photos, he hadn’t aged since he was 26. There were a handful of him when he was with a younger Milly, those were the only ones around his house.

From the first time you met Taehyung, you always knew his looks were the very first thing people noticed, it was what you noticed. “Y/n,” he snapped you out of your thoughts once again. Somehow, anytime you did zone out, your eyes landed back on him. “You keep staring, what do you want?”

His voice was low and stern, as if he’d rather not be in the same country as you. “I already said it was nothing,” you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me,” he sneered, an intensity in his voice. “All I did was ask you a question, don’t be a brat.”

You straightened yourself, pointing a finger at him. “I ans-“

“We’re back!” Mrs. Lin gave you a sweet smile, taking her seat next to you. You curled your hands in your lap, deciding to keep your mouth shut.

Taehyung raised an eyebrow at you, you swore you saw his lip curl up in a smirk. He knew he won the argument, as he usually did when the two of you argued.

“Are you guys done?” Milly gestured to your empty plates, you both nodded. She’d received her certificate and the school provided a full meal, you were a bit jealous, her meal was better than yours.

“Perfect, then we can head to the after party!” Milly clapped her hands, grabbing your wrist and pulling you up.

You made your way to where both her parents cars were parked, she opened the front passenger door and got in, you tried to open the back but it was locked. “Milly, the doors locked.”

She rolled down the window, Mrs. Lin came up beside you. “Everything alright, dear?” She asked you, placing her hand on the small of your back.

“Yes of course, the doors just locked.” You told her, Milly pressed the unlock button on the door.

“I’m going home, you girls have fun.” Taehyung walked past you to Mrs. Lin’s car, waving you off.

“You’re not coming to the after party?” She stomped around the back of the car, grabbing the sleeve of his leather jacket. If there was one thing you knew about Taehyung, it’s that he knew style.

“If you’re taking the girls then there’s no point of me being there.” He shrugged her off, she let out a frustrated sigh.

“Y/n can go with you,” she looked at you with desperate eyes. You knew she wanted Milly’s dad to be present, but this was the one thing you wouldn’t do. You shook your head. “Come on, it’s a 10 minute drive!”

“Mrs. Lin that’s not a good idea, maybe Milly could go with her dad?” You looked at Milly, she ignored you and rolled the window back up. She knew how much you two hated each other, and you also knew she wouldn’t waste the opportunity to throw you into a situation like this. You looked back up at Mrs. Lin, she looked at you with pleading eyes and you couldn’t say no. “Fine.”

“Thank you!” She came over and gave tou a tight hug, you smiled into her shoulder. She hurried around the front of the car and got in behind the wheel. “Just follow us to the hotel and let us know when you get there.”

You nodded and she pulled away, there they went, your only chance of peace. You looked through the empty parking spot at Taehyung, his eyebrows furrowed and a heavy scowl pointed in your direction. “Fuck,” he shook his head.

You huffed, reluctantly making your way to the car. You pulled open the passenger side door, sliding onto the cool leather seat of his car.

As soon as you closed the door, you were flooded with the scent of his cologne. It was a sweet, woody scent, you could also smell a faint hint of cigarettes. You knew he smoked, but he was pretty good at hiding it.

He slid into the drivers seat, shoving his keys into the dash. You looked away from him, staring straight out the window in front of you. He pushed the car into drive and pulled out of the parking lot, the light turned yellow as soon as he turned onto the road.

Little did you know, this was going to be the theme of the night. Each red light irked him more, and you could tell. His jaw was clenched, knuckles turning white from his grip on the steering wheel. “Roll down your window,” he grumbled.

You did as he said, he rolled down his own and pulled a cigarette out of his pocket, taking advantage of the red light to light his cigarette. He lit the end and threw the lighter onto the centre console before pressing the gas once the light was greens.

He hollowed his cheeks as he breathed in the smoke, highlighting his cheekbones in the dim light. Damn, he looked good. He stuck his head out the window and blew out the smoke.

“I think you do want something, because you’ve been staring at me all night.” He took another puff, this time blowing it in your direction.

“I don’t want shit,” you scowled, waving your hands in front of your face. “I didn’t even want you to drive me here, if it weren’t for Serine I’d be with them and you’d be at home drinking until you get a massive hangover.” You pointed an incriminating finger at him, crossing your legs.

He slammed on the breaks once he pulled in the parking lot, he threw his cigarette out the window and rolled them up. He twisted his torso to face you, his strong hand came up to grip your face, turning your head to face him.

His eyes were fiery, boiling into yours. It made your stomach flip, your hands flew to the sides of your seat. “You don’t fucking talk to me like that in my car, you got that?”

His hand squeezed your face harder, making you let out a little whimper. He shook his head, laughing lowly. “Don’t you start acting like you’re scared now, if you can be all bratty with me in the restaurant and have the audacity to bitch at me in my car,” he paused, savouring the terrified expression on your face. “Then you can deal with the pissy attitude you’re gonna get from me.”

You let out a huff, you were about to cross your arms when he pulled your face closer to his, your nose nearly touched his, you could smell the cigarettes on his lips. “What are yo-“

“Shut up,” he slapped the side of your face. Your jaw dropped, you couldn’t believe what he just did. You never thought you would ever be this close to Taehyung, the intensity of the situation almost arousing you. Before you could say anything else, his hand came back on your face. “You fucking like it!”

“I do not!” You yelled back, as best as you could with his hand squishing your cheeks together. Your eyes met his, the pure anger in his eyes still present, but fading.

“I don’t believe you,” he tilted his head to the side, looking deeper into your eyes. “I can tell just by the way you’re looking at me,” he smirked, then a look of realization came over his face.

His thumb came up and rubbed against your bottom lip, your thighs squeezed together, gaining his attention. “That’s why you keep staring at me, isn’t it?” He patronized, his free hand slid up your knee, slipping between the slit of your dress. His warm fingers grasped your upper thigh, digging into the skin. “Every time you zone it’s cus you’re thinking of me, isn’t it? They aren’t very holy, are they?”

“Mr. Kim this is-“

“That’s not what you call me in your dreams is it?” He moved forward, pressing your back against the passenger side door. He was so close to you, his thumb tugged your lip down, eyes scanning your body.

You cowered under his gaze, your hands came up to his wrist, trying to tug his hand away from your face. “It’s not what you think, I was just thinking!” You tugged harder, he gave you a shove and pulled his hand away.

“You want my hand off your face?” He growled, unbuckling his seatbelt, he leaned over the console and wrapped his hand around your neck. You were so caught off guard that you couldn’t stop the moan that slipped out from your lips, he looked at you with a fierce look in his eyes. “You like that, huh? I fucking knew it,” he shook his hand, your torso bouncing forward.

“No!” You countered, his hand came away from your thigh and grabbed your wrists, pinning them over your head onto the window.

“Stop arguing,” he commanded, squeezing your back tighter.

“Gonna be- late,” you managed, trying to take deeper breaths.

“Then admit it,” he sneered, bringing your face impossibly closer to his. “Admit that you have dreams just like this.”

“Tae- let me-“

“It’s so simple, all you have to do it admit it. Admit that you have nasty dreams about me, admit that just the thought of me gets you wet,” he growled.

“Fuck fine!” You broke down, he loosened his grip on your neck. “You make me so wet, I have horrible, sexual dreams about you all the time!” You took a deep breath, trying to look away in embarrassment.

“Now you’re shy?” He teased, sticking out his lip in a mock pout. “Look at me,” his hand came off of your throat and back up to your chin.

Reluctantly, you turned back to him, your cheeks were bright red and your face was contorted in a look of shame.

“From now on, you call me Taehyung, you got that?” He waited for you to nod before continuing. “You’d better listen to me for the rest of the night or else you won’t be getting a ride home. Got that?” You nodded again. “Use your words, bitch.”

“Yes Taehyung,” you forced the words out of your body. No matter how scared of him you were, there was still a bone in your body that told you not to submit to him.

“Good girl,” his voice was deep. His usual, deep honey-like voice was raspy and thick with lust. You let out a small gasp, you couldn’t believe his words.

Taehyung gripped your chin between his thumb and forefinger, holding you still while he moved closer. His lips met yours softly, he only stayed for a moment before pulling back. “Don’t wanna be late,” he mocked you, opening his door.

You rolled your eyes once he got out, you got out of the car and followed him towards the entrance. He held the door for you, you hummed in acknowledgment and paced to the front desk. “Hi, we’re here for the grad after party,” you gave the man the name of your old school.

“Of course, it’s on the fifth floor.” He gave you a plastic hospital looking bracelet that the valet would check at the door, he gave another one to Taehyung.

He followed you to the elevator, you clicked on the up arrow and stepped back from the door. A group of people filed out, leaving the elevator to the two of you.

Taehyung pressed the 5 button on the elevator and the doors closed, your stomach tensed when he turned back to you. He didn’t say anything, he moved beside you and stood at your side, the cool leather of his jacket brushed against your arm.

On the second floor the doors opened again, a group of people came in, all in suits and chatting about business. They clicked a button and the elevator started moving again, you let out a squeak when you felt his hand brush against your ass.

You looked around, no one heard you. Your eyes panned up to Taehyung, he sported a smirk and only you knew why. His hand slipped from the small of your back to your ass, large hand squeezing the soft flesh.

You reached behind you and grabbed his wrist, giving his wrist a squeeze as a warning. All this did was make him squeeze harder, your muscles clenched.

Suddenly you were saved by the ding of the elevator. Taehyung pulled his hand away and you squeezed past the people in front of you. The hallways had arrows pointing to the room where the party was held.

“Go have fun,” he gestured towards the door. “I’ll be near the door whenever you’re done.” He reached out to grab the door knob, pausing to look back at you. “I shouldn’t have to say this, but you’d better not get too close to anyone, understand?”

“I won’t,” you promised. He still didn’t move, you swallowed hard. “I won’t, Taehyung.”

“There we go,” he gave you a small smile. He opened the door and you showed your bracelets to the bouncer. Once you got past, he leaned down to your ear. “Milly and Sienne don’t hear about this, or I’ll have to do something about it.” With this, he disappeared into the crowd.

You stood still, eyes scanning the crowd for Milly, before you decided to stop and think for a minute. You hadn’t even thought of what happened with Taehyung, the stoic man who’s barely uttered more than a sentence to you at a time, just made you confess to your dreams, kissed you, and threatened to leave you on the side of the road if you didn’t “behave.”

As much as you’d fantasized about him touching you, you never thought he’d patronize you in that way. Who the hell was he to tell you to behave, tell you to be good, he wasn’t your father.

You crossed your arms, there was no way he was gonna do that to you again. No fucking way. Just thinking about it made you feel stupid, all those years of standing up to him and arguing just so that you would cower under a single touch.

You weren’t some weak kid, you were an adult and he wasn’t gonna treat you like that. You turned around to go find him and give him a piece of your mind, when you ran right into Milly.

“Y/n! I saw dad a few minutes ago,” she stopped, raising an eyebrow at you. “You don’t look very happy.”

“Of course I’m not happy, Milly.” You sighed, taking a deep breath. “I just spent 10 minutes in the car with your dad, I don’t mean to be a downer, but he’s really just-“

“Difficult? Yea I know, but seeing the look on both of your faces was so worth it!” She laughed, pointing at your angry expression. “Now come on, you’ll never have to have another car ride with my dad after tonight, promise.” She drew and X over the left side of her chest, giving you a sympathetic smile.

“Fine, but only because it’s for you.” You rolled your eyes, you were so easily persuaded by her. You always remembered that she was the only reason you put up with the man, especially after arguments.

The rest of the party was amazing, they had an amazing playlist and you and Milly danced for hours, with people, with each other, with her mom. The party seemed to go on for hours, and Taehyung was no where to be found.

By the time midnight rolled around, you and Milly were both ready to go home. You to your apartment and her to her mom’s, you followed her to find Mrs. Lin. “Y/n, you’re going with dad, remember?” She yawned, but her comment snapped you back to reality.

Of course she wasn’t gonna let this slide, you said goodbye and wandered through the crowd to find Taehyung, or anyone you knew who could drive you home.

You recognized your French teacher and almost tapped her shoulder before someone yanked yours, you turned around and sure enough, it was Taehyung. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Trying to find you,” you told him, then softer. “Or another ride.” You gasped when he grabbed your arm, squeezing your wrist as a sign of warning.

“Tae, you’re good to take her home, right?” Mrs. Lin came up behind him, he quickly let go of your wrist, turning to face her. “Because if not I can just bring her back home and-“

“I’ll be fine, it’s on the way home anyway.” His voice sounded nonchalant, but you knew there was rage somewhere in there. He was right about that though, your apartment was in walking distance.

“Thanks Tae, call me if anything’s wrong!” She skipped to the door, where Milly waved in your direction.

“Let’s go,” Taehyung stormed out in front of you, not bothering to pull you along. You hurried after him, his stride was much longer than yours, so you had to take two steps more than he did just to keep up.

“Slow down!” You shouted, he paused and turned around, taking a step towards you. He pointed a threatening finger in your direction, getting closer to your face.

“You shout at me one more time and you see what fucking happens, you hear me?” He growled, his voice deep and stern.

“What the fuck, I’m-“

“A fucking brat, that’s what you are.” He grabbed the sides of your face, gripping it roughly. “And someone’s gonna have to teach you how to behave.” He pulled his hand away just to slap your face, grabbing it between his hands again.

“Let go,” you grabbed his wrist. You tried to pull his hand away, but his grip was too strong.

“Why?” His voice was soft, almost condescending. “Just a second ago you wanted me to wait for you, and now you’re trying to get away?”

He pulled his hand away and pressed the down button on the elevator behind him. The hallway was empty, to your liking, you didn’t need anyone seeing this and didn’t want anyone to either.

The elevator ride was silent, he stayed on the opposite the elevator, not bothering to spare you a glance.

You followed him to his car, once again silently sliding into the passenger seat. The car ride home was dead silent, he didn’t even turn on the radio. The only noise there was was the hum of the engine and other cars outside.

When you turned onto your street you went to unbuckle your seatbelt, but he didn’t slow down. “Hey slow down,” your voice broke the silence, but it didn’t phase him.

His foot stayed steady on the gas, driving past your apartment. “What the fuck! Taehyung! Slow down, you missed the apartment!” You cried, you reached down to pull on the door handle but the door was locked, of course it was. “You’re crazy, you’re fucking insane!”

“What did I say about yelling, huh?” He demanded, taking a sharp turn down the road and into the driveway of his house. “I told you to keep your voice down, and you didn’t listen to me.”

He parked the car and shoved the keys into his pocket. “Now, you’re gonna see what happens when you don’t behave.” His hand flew down to his hips, unbuckling his belt and pulling it out of the loops. “You’re gonna come into the house with me,” he explained.

You tried to push him away, but to no avail. His big hand gripped the back of your neck, pressing the right pressure points to make your body stiffen. With the other hand, he shoved part of the belt into your mouth and tied it right around the back of your head. “And you’re gonna be quiet, try not to wake the neighbours.”

Taehyung got out of the car, unlocking your door only when he was close enough to grab you. He dragged you into his house, locking the car and the door before finally turning back to you. “You know, I bet we’d get along just fine if you weren’t such a bitch.”

His words stung, he’d insulted you before, but somehow they hurt more now that you were in such a vulnerable situation. He took the belt out of your mouth, discarding it on the floor. “But that’s what you thrive off of, isn’t it? You live for these arguments, don’t you?”

You shook your head, he moved closer to you, making you backup until you body was pressed between his and the counter. “Of course it is, you told me it is.”

Your hands came up to his chest, hesitating between pushing him away or letting it happen. “Are you gonna go back home?” His question surprised you, you thought you could hear doubt in his voice. “You gonna go home and rub one off, huh? Think about me again or stay and see what happens?”

“I- uh stay,” you murmured, avoiding eye contact with him. He let out a low hum, presumably one of satisfaction, and turned your head back to face him.

“Look at me,” he instructed, hand falling down to the flimsy strap on your shoulder. His other hand held his weight on the counter behind you, his eyes panned your body once again, observing your curves in your skintight dress, your chest heaving up and down, and your thigh that stuck out of the slit of your dress.

His eyes came up to meet yours once more, a coy smile displayed on his lips. “Good girl,” he whispered. The words sent shivers through you, your fingers gripped the smooth leather of his jacket. His eyes poured into yours, the rage barely present and lust taking over.

His lips smashed into yours, locking you in a kiss that was much more intense than the peck you shared earlier that night.

His hands came up and grabbed a fistful of your hair, directing your head however he wanted. His other hand slid both of your straps off your shoulders, the lacy bra you wore becoming more and more exposed.

His hand came down to your chest and squeezed one of your tits, making you moan into the kiss. His thumb swiped over the middle of your breast, feeling your stiff nipple through the thin fabric of your bra.

His hand directed your head to the side, his tongue prodded at your bottom lip, your lips parted for him and let his tongue inside. He tasted like bourbon and cigarettes, he must’ve gotten his hands on a drink at the party.

Your tongues danced together, him quickly gaining dominance. His teeth bit at your bottom lip, dragging it out then letting go when he pulled back. “Come with me,” his arm slid around your waist and lead you to his bedroom.

His hand came to your back and gave you a harsh shove, sending you flying to the bed. Your body was squished against the bottom of the bed, bent over on the mattress.

You tried righting yourself when a hand came down on your back shoving you down against the mattress. “Feeling brave now, Y/n?” His fingers dig into your back, you were sure they would leave bruises.

You mumbled in response, your head was turned to the side on the mattress. “I thought I told you to use your words.” He tsked, pressing you harder into the mattress. “Answer my question, are you still feeling brave?”

“No,” you squeaked, struggling against his hand. The attitude you previously had fading, you weren’t scared of him, but you knew he could over power you in a second.

“That’s right,” he grabbed one of your legs and lifted it, sliding your body onto the bed with ease. “Because I have you all to myself now, I can do whatever I want.” He leaned down and moved your hair away from your neck, his lips pressing against the sensitive skin.

His tongue came out of his mouth and wet your skin, he sucked small marks into the side and back of your neck. Deep red blotches appearing each time he moved away, you let out a whine.

His hand slid down your back, taking a handful of the soft flesh of your ass. He moved your dress up, the fabric pooling at your waist. He let out a groan when he reached down between your legs, you bit your lip and grabbed onto the arm that steadied himself on the bed.

“Fuck, look at you.” His fingers reached past your panties and rubbed through your folds. His finger stopped at your clit, giving your swollen nun a few rubs.

“Fuck Tae, please!” You cried, trying to grind onto his fingers.

“Now you want it, huh?” He sneered, he sounded like a hungry animal watching his prey. “Hate to break it to you, but you’ve gotta earn it.”

He took his hand away from your core, you whined out in loss. He grabbed your shoulders and pulled you up to your knees, you arched your back, waiting to see what he would do next.

He sat on the bed in front of you, putting his legs on either side of your body. “You’re gonna suck it, baby.” He patted his lap, an obvious bulge forming in his jeans. “Okay?”

You nodded, he smiled and reached up to move your hair out of your face. Your hands hesitantly reached for his jeans, toying with the button and zipper.

You felt dirty, what you were doing was dirty. Your fantasy was finally coming true and yet you were hesitant, you reached into his pants, pressing your palm against his dick.

Taehyung let out a groan, he didn’t realize how touch starved he’d been. He barely got out and hardly ever bothered to touch himself, he’d always suspected you were sweet on him, but now he knew he was right.

“Take it out,” he instructed, rolling his hips up into your palm. “Don’t be shy now, you’ve finally got what you want.” His fingers brushed underneath your chin, biting his lips.

Your hand dipped into his boxers and wrapped around his length, you carefully pulled it out, your mouth watered at the sight.

You’d always assumed it was big but you never expected this, his cock was long, from what you could tell it was 7, maybe 8 inches. The thing that surprised you the most was how thick it was, you could barely wrap your whole hand around it.

“Looks so good,” you licked your lips, your teeth coming out to bite your bottom lip.

“Have a taste,” he wrapped his hand in your hair, pushing your head down a bit. You dropped to your elbows so you were face level with his cock, you looked at him with a look of want.

You licked a stripe up the bottom of his length, feeling the ridges of his veins against your tongue. He let out a delicious moan, encouraging you to do it again.

Your tongue licked through the slit on his tip, gathering the pre cum rolling out of it. You wrapped your mouth around his head, letting out a groan at his taste. “I think you can do better than that, huh?”

His hand gave your head a small nudge, pushing you down further on his length. You let him push you, controlling your movements. “Fuck yes, use that fucking tongue.”

He pushed you down until you gagged on his cock, barely making it halfway down. You moaned around his length, hollowing your cheeks around him. He moved you up and down faster, wet, gagging sounds coming from your mouth as you moved.

The phone rang, making you jump, but Taehyung still had his hand on the back of your head, easing you back down. He reached over and grabbed his house phone, “It’s Milly, so you’re gonna have to be quiet for me.”

He gave you a stern look, answering the phone. “Yea?” He answered the phone dully, rolling his hips up into your mouth, testing your gag reflex.

“Hey dad, is Y/n at your place?” Her question made him tense, you froze, but his hand kept moving.

“I dropped her off at her apartment, why?” His voice was stern, you assumed he’d know how to handle it, you could tell by the tone of his voice.

“She won’t answer my calls, and when I checked her location it said that she was still at your place.” Milly whined, Taehyung rolled his eyes.

“She might have left her phone in my car,” he explained. “Even so, it’s like 1 in the morning she’s probably asleep.”

He looked down at you, biting his lip as he made you move faster, making it harder for you to stay quiet. “I’ll just go check on her tomorrow, night dad.”

“K, goodnight.” He didn’t wait for a response and hung up the phone, throwing it back onto the receiver. “Good girl, staying quiet for me.”

You hum in response, feeling his cock twitch on your tongue. He pulled your head off of his cock, the flushed head of his cock hitting the fabric of his shirt.

“Strip,” he told you. You didn’t waste time, you stood up off of his bed and reached for the zipper on the back of your dress.

“Can you help me?” You turned back to him, biting your lip. You widened your eyes, he nodded and you moved back to him.

His warm fingers came up to the zipper, they brushed against your back, making you shiver. He pulled the zipper down, taking his time. He gave your ass a small tap to let you know he was done, you shimmied the straps down your arms, pulling the dress off of your chest until it looked at your feet.

“Turn around,” he instructed. You did as he said, holding your hands together in front of you, heat rising to your cheeks. “You look so good,” he muttered, licking his lips. “Come here.”

Taehyung held out his arms, guiding your body to lay across his lap. His fingers hooked into the sides of your panties, pulling them off in one go. “So wet, and all for me.”

His fingers spread you open, letting him get a better look. “As much as I’d love to just dive in, I didn’t forget how bratty you were earlier.”

His hand came up to caress your ass, lifting his hand off for a moment and coming down with a loud smack. You let out a yelp, tensing as he rubbed the wounded flesh. “That hurt!” You grumbled, looking up at Taehyung. His lip stuck out in a mock pout.

“Really? That’s the point, baby.” He layed another harsh smack on your ass, leaving a handprint from the force.

You whimpered, holding onto his strong thigh beneath you. He was relentless, going from side to side making it feel like he hit harder each time. By the time he was done, your flesh was bright red and sensitive. “Had enough, Y/n?”

“Yes,” you mumbled, voice shaking while you tried your hardest to hold back tears.

“Learn your lesson?” He asked, rubbing your ass to soothe the burn he’d caused. “Won’t disobey me again, right?”

“No, I’ll be good.” You promised, sniffling.

“There you go, pretty.” He pulled you up onto his lap, you threw a leg over his and straddled his lap, folds sliding on his angry cock. “You’re okay,” he chided, brushing tears away from your cheeks with his thumb. “So pretty when you cry for me.”

He brought your face closer to his, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss. He was softer than before, but it didn’t last long before he flipped you onto your back. “Stay,” he commanded.

He slid off the bed, dropping his jeans and boxers, he shrugged off the jacket, revealing his toned arms. You’d seen him without a shirt previously, and for his age, he was built well. His torso was toned, his skin was smooth and everything in his body seemed to be fully functional, you were about to find out just how functional one part was.

He pulled his shirt over his head, muscles flexing as he threw it to the side. His shoulders were broad and tanned, you licked your lips as he crawled back on top of you. “Why don’t we lose this, yeah?”

He tugged on the middle part of your bra, you nodded and let him reach behind you, undoing the clasp and pulling it away. He shoved his face between your breasts, sucking spots into the soft flesh. “Oh fuck!”

You moaned when his teeth grazed your nipple, wrapping mouth around it and tongue toying with the sensitive bud. He took his time moving to your neglected breast, giving it the same treatment as the other one.

He made his way down your abdomen, making eye contact with you as he reached your pelvis. His hands roughly groped your thighs, forcing them apart.

“Didn’t get to taste you earlier,” his thumb toyed with your clit, making your hips stutter. He licked a stripe up your core, gathering your slick on his tongue. “You’re so sweet,” he told you, dipping his tongue into your folds.

You let out moan after moan, feeling him dip his tongue into your hole, which immediately made you clench around him. “You like that, huh? Fucking dirty girl,” he shook his head, tongue flat against your clit.

“Taehyung- fuck!” Your hand flew down to his hair, gripping his firm black locks. He kept going, suckling your pussy like a madman. You felt one digit enter you, his fingers felt so much better than yours. They were long and slender, reaching places inside of you that you could only dream of.

“Pull me closer, fuck,” he groaned, affected by the grip you had on him. You tangled your hand tighter in his hair, gripping him against you tightly.

Your hips quivered, shaking under his touch. “Fuck, fuck so close,” you whimpered, your breath becoming shallow when he added another finger. You clamped your fingers tighter around his hair as your orgasm approached, when he suddenly pulled away.

Your grip weak, he was able to slip out of your grasp. “So soon? I barely touched you,” he tsked, shaking his head. “Think I’m gonna let you cum on my fingers, huh? Oh I don’t think so,” he chuckled, he could tell you were pissed.

He waited for you to say something, but you kept your mouth shut, you knew he’d wait longer to give you what you wanted if you argued with him. “Good girl, I guess you’ve learnt your lesson.”

He knelt over you, dropping down to his forearms to press his lips to yours. You welcomed him in immediately, shoving your tongue past his lips. You took a deep breath through your nose, basking in his scent.

You could feel his cock rub against your leg, pre cum dripping from his tip and rubbing onto your smooth thigh. His lips sucked on yours, tongues diving into the others with an unmentioned passion.

Taehyung pulled back, his lips were pink and swollen, you were sure yours looked the same. “You want this, baby?” He reached down, fisting his cock and tapping it against your leg gently.

“Yes, yes please.” You begged, but he didn’t move. “Taehyung please,” you reached up and grabbed him by the hair, pulling his upper body onto yours.

“What do you call me in your dreams?” He demanded, planting a wet kiss on your jaw. “I can’t believe you call your best friend’s dad by first name, do you baby?”

“Please, I need your cock,” you paused, he looked up at you. “Dadd-“ you murmured.

“What’s that baby? I couldn’t hear you,” he teased, ready to line himself up with you as soon as you said it.

“Daddy,” you caved, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

“No need to be embarrassed,” he ran a finger down the side of your cheek, making you look up at him. “If that’s what you think about then that’s what I wanna hear.”

You felt the tip of his cock prod at your entrance, he took his time to push in, stopping once his tip was in. “You ready, babe?” He purred, propping himself up with his hands beside your head.

“Yes, daddy, please!” You whined, trying to grind down on him.

“You’ll get what you want,” he promised, thrusting his hips all the way in. You moaned at the stretch, it felt like he was ripping you open. “Pussy’s so tight, doesn’t get enough attention, huh?”

You shook your head, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hips started moving faster once you adjusted to his size, hitting your sweet spot with every thrust.

“Fuck fuck fuck! Right there, fuck yes!” You moaned, your high creeping up on you again.

“You gonna cum again, baby? Gonna cream on this cock?” One of his hands came off of the mattress, wrapping around your throat and restricting your airways just enough so you became light headed. You grabbed his wrist, letting out a loud whine.

His pace was relentless as he pounded into you, the hand on your neck keeping you from sliding up the mattress. His hand tightened and loosened every so often, letting you catch your breath then immediately taking it away.

His hair stuck to his forehead, his mouth hung open slightly, letting groans escape his lips every so often. His muscles flexed each time he changed his grip around you’re neck, his v line becoming more and more prominent with each thrust.

You felt like you were on fire, your bodies were soaked, your thighs felt sticky with your slick and your core ached, needing release. “Please let me cum, daddy. Please, I need to!” You begged, tears brimming your eyes.

“Gonna cry for me? You need to beg for it, cry for it.” His thrusts slowed down to an agonizing pace, you knew it must be driving him crazy, but the lengths he was willing to take torment you were far wider than you would like.

“Daddy please, please I need you to make me cum! Need to cum on your cock, please, daddy.” You begged, wrapping your legs around his waist. He snapped his hips deep inside you, causing the tears to fall. “P-please I need you, need to cum on you, want you to cum in me, so bad. Need you to fill me up, please daddy, please.”

You sobbed, trying to pull him closer. “On your knees,” he pulled out, landing a slap on your thigh.

Complacent, you rolled onto your stomach, propping yourself up on your knees. “Making your cunt drip, so wet for me.” He pushed back into your pussy, plowing you into the mattress with the force of his hips. “Ah fuck, pulling me in so well.”

His hands flew up to your waist, squeezing it roughly to keep you close to him. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, letting out loud whines the closer you got. “Please, please let me cum! Please daddy I need to,” you sobbed, your release was so close, you weren’t gonna last.

You felt his hand comb through your hair, which was sweaty and going in every direction. The breath was knocked out of you when he wrapped his hand in your hair, pulling you up so your back was pressed to his chest.

“You wanna cum, huh?” His hips snapped at an incredulous pace, the hand holding your hair came to wrap around your neck, making it easier for him to control you. His other hand slid down the front of your body and rested on your clit, not moving.

You bucked your hips in anticipation, feeling the need for more friction. You nodded desperately, reaching around him to hold yourself up with his waist. “Please daddy, please!”

“Sure baby, I’ll let you cum.” His fingers started moving slower than his hips were, the muscles in your stomach tensed. “But where am I gonna cum?”

His fingers sped up, one of your hands flew up to his wrist, digging your nails into his skin. “Here,” you muttered, tapping his hand that was rubbing your clit.

“Yea? You want my cum inside you?” He sped up his fingers, making your legs twitch. He took his hand off your neck, pushing you back down on the mattress. “Gonna fill you up, little girl.”

You whined at his words, your legs barely held you up on the mattress. Taehyung noticed, and he wouldn’t miss a chance to manhandle you. He pulled out for a fraction of a second, flipping you onto your back and thrusting back inside with ease.

“Look so good filled with cock, little brats not so bad anymore, are you?” He reached up and grabbed one of your tits, his thumb toyed with your nipple. His other hand came up and massaged both of your tits, pressing them together and manipulating them however he wanted.

“No m’ good,” you whined, your eyes meeting his. Your eyes were blurry and wet, you were sure that your eyeliner was running, your face was wet from your tears. Your eyes were begging his, begging for release, for his release.

“That’s right,” he groaned, taking his hands away from your tits and admiring the handprints he left. He set his hands on the mattress on either side of you, he panted heavily, hips stuttering every so often. “Good for me.”

“Tae- Tae I’m gonna- fuck!” You reached up and grabbed his shoulders, digging your nails into his shoulders, making him hiss. His fingers came down to your clit, rubbing fast circles. “Gonna cum!”

“S’right baby, cream on my cock.” He panted, your legs convulsed on his shoulders, hips shaking with each thrust. You let out a loud moan, finally reaching your climax.

You came and you came hard, your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You could feel your orgasm running down your thigh, the sound of him thrusting into your getting sloppier and more wet. “So fucking wet, I make you feel good huh?”

Taehyung took his hand away from your clit, when your eyes focused again, you were met with the sight of your dreams. His hips snapped into yours, he let out moans that your were sure to remember and that you’d never want to forget.

He bit his lip, you could feel his cock twitching inside you. “M’ sensitive,” you whined, thighs trying to clench around him.

“I know baby, I know.” He moaned, dropping to his elbows. His face dropped between your soft breasts, lips leaving soft kisses. “Wanna cum in you, wanna fill you up so bad,” he muttered, you felt his voice vibrate against your chest.

“Yes, yes daddy I need it!” You wrapped your legs around his waist, your fingers wrapped around his hair, giving it gentle tugs every so often.

“Fuck!” He moaned, hips coming to a stop, stuttering when he was deep in you. His heavy cock twitched against your walls, finally releasing into you.

“Oh that feels good,” you moaned, softening your grip on his hair. Your hands raked through his raven-coloured locks, scratching his scalp gently. You felt his seed shoot into you, making your insides warm.

“Yea,” he mumbled, taking a minute to calm down. He let out a sigh, scooting you up on the bed so his feet weren’t hanging off the edge.

There were so many emotions flowing through you right now, you were confused and curious. An hour ago you were arguing with man, now he’s inside you and laying on top of you. “We’ve gotta get you home,” he groaned, propping himself up.

“Home?” You shot up, smacking your head on his chest. He chuckled, leaning down to peck your forehead.

“Yea, Milly’s gonna be at your place as soon as the sun comes up.” He yawned, stretching his arms. “At least that’s what I expected from her.”

“Oh, yea you’re right.” You nodded, pushing your hair out of your face.

“Aw did you wanna stay the night?” He teased, raising an eyebrow and giving you a cocky smile. “Had that much fun, huh?”

You nodded, looking up at him with puppy dog eyes. “Do I have to?” You stuck your lip out in a pout, despite all of your past arguments, you wanted him to want you just as much as you wanted him.

“Tell you what, I’ll help you get cleaned up, give you some comfy clothes, then I’ll come back to your place with you. How does that sound?” He asked, tilting his head to the side, giving you a soft smile.

“Good, let’s do that.” You agreed, he nodded, standing up. He gently pulled out of you, watching as both of your releases flooded out of you.

“That’s hot,” he raised an eyebrow and bit his lip. He slid his hands under you, lifting you into his strong arms.

He brought you into the bathroom, setting you down and turning on the water. Once it was warm enough, he opened the curtain and let you in, stepping in behind you.

He was gentle, shampooing both of your hair and helping you rinse it off. His hands were gentle along your body, carefully washing the slick off of your body. He admired the bruises he left on your neck, both from his hands and his mouth. “Might have to leave more,” he mumbled.

He rinsed off your bodies and shut off the water, he quickly dried himself and handed you a clean towel, leaving the room while you dried off. He came back in boxers and holding a pile of clothes, “Here.” He handed you a pair of sweats and a large t shirt.

“Thanks,” you bowed your head slightly, he bowed right back. He threw on a pair of shorts and a hoodie, the fabric going over his head and slicking his hair down.

You looked in the mirror, wiping the makeup off of your face with a Kleenex, or what could come off without makeup remover anyway. “Is your phone in my car?” Taehyung asked, picking up your clothes off the floor and handing them to you.

“No, I dropped it in my shoes at the front door.” You stretched, your joints were stiff and your legs were sore because of him. You bent down to touch your toes, letting out a groan. “Tae!” You squealed, jumping when he layed a smack on your ass.

“Your fault for bending over,” he smirked. You slid your feet into your wedges, they didn’t work with the outfit but no one would see you at this time of night.

He followed you back to your apartment, hand steady around your waist. You made your way up the stairs, being as quiet at you could while you unlocked the door.

“Nice place,” Taehyung looked around, letting out a small hum in recognition.

“It’s small, but it works,” you shrugged. You both kicked off your shoes and he followed you to your bedroom. “You’re really gonna stay, all night?” You asked, closing your door.

Taehyung moved closer to you, pressing his body against your until you were sandwiched between him and the door. “As long as you want,” he promised. His hand came up and rubbed the side of your neck, you let yourself lean into his touch.

He bent down and let your lips meet, his lips moved passionately against yours, you wrapped your arms around his neck, you were sure you’d remember this.

His hand toyed with the hem of the shirt he lent you, his fingers slipping into the band of his sweatpants. “You should take these off.” He pulled away for a second, quickly coming back to your lips.

“You want them back?” You asked, letting him pull them off of your hips.

“No,” he pulled back, tugging his sweater over his head. His toned, bare chest on display once more, you didn’t hesitate to reach out and touch him, feeling your way along his carved chest. “I just think sleeping would be more comfortable without all this in the way.”

He gestured to the small bits of fabric that were left on the two of you, “Nude?” You asked, already knowing the answer.

“Nude,” he agreed. You stripped out of his clothes, leading him over to your bed. You were tangled in the sheets, both of you trying to find a comfortable position.

You found yourself facing his chest, arms wrapped around him. His arms were wrapped all the way around your waist, holding you tightly so both of your bodies were pressed together. You sighed into his chest, breathing in his scent and basking in the warmth he provided.

“Just so you know,” he whispered, combing his fingers through your damp hair. “Mornings with me can be, pretty hard.”

“I’m sure I’ll be able to handle it,” you gave his chest a gentle peck, wrapping your legs around his.

“Good girl.”

#bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts imagine #bts smut #taehyung smut

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straylightdream · 2 years

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SUDDEN DESIRE - 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭: lee minho x f.reader

college au / established relationship / roommate au

↳ you always thought you knew exactly what you wanted in life. But being with Minho makes you realize you want so much more with him.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.6k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: pregnancy scare, lots of emotions, talks about the future and having kids. 18+ only. Smut warnings below the cut.

𝐚𝐧: can be read as one shot but there is a connecting PART ONE called Lover Of Mine. I have a soft spot for this couple and definitely wanted to write more for them. This is a part of my connecting connect stray kids college au series SSFW. You don’t need to read the other stories to know what’s going on.

𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: breeding kink, unprotected sex, creampie, mentions of knocking the mc up, passionate intercourse. Names such as: pretty, and angel

This whole situation feels a little too calm. Your night you had planned with Minho took a little turn when you realized you hadn’t started your period three weeks ago like you were supposed to. Nursing school had been extra stressful and you hadn’t really thought about it until Minho mentioned it.

Sitting on the bathroom floor with Minho sitting next you can’t seem to wrap your mind around the fact that neither of you seemed freaked out at the fact that you might be pregnant. You fiddle with the sleeve of your sweater while Minho scrolls through instagram on his phone looking at different photos of cats. He doesn’t seem nervous at all.

It’s been almost a year and half since the first time you slept together and you’re both extremely happy with your relationship. You’re in the middle of your nursing program, and Minho is in grad school. The thought of having a child at this stage in your life should make you sick, but it doesn’t.

“So what happens if I’m pregnant?” You glance at him.

Closing his phone he knits his eyebrows together as he stares at you. “I don’t know. I mean I want to have kids one day and I clearly love you. I’ve said this since the beginning when we first started sleeping together. If I get you pregnant you’ll look great.” He reaches over resting his hand on your cheek, “And you know the kid would be cute as hell.”

“Why doesn’t this freak me out?” You lean into his hand.

“I’m honestly not freaked out. If you’re pregnant the only thing we would have to figure out is where we would move. I don’t know if Hyunjin is ready to live with a baby. I could always pause grad school, to be honest I’m not worried.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready for a baby,” you still had things you wanted to do before you had a child. “This feels a little too soon. Like where would we even raise a baby?”

“We can cross that bridge when we get there if you’re pregnant.”

The timer on your phone goes off and you don’t move, you just silently stare at the pregnancy test still sitting on the floor. Minho leans over pressing his lips to your shoulder before he reaches out taking the test. He stares at it a moment before passing it to you. Your eyes lock on the bold blue words that read, “not pregnant”. Instantly you feel relieved.

“I’m probably late because of stress,” you sigh.

“Are you disappointed you aren’t pregnant?” He picks up on your sad tone.

You can’t fully explain the emotions you’re going through. You’re relieved you’re not pregnant, because you definitely aren’t ready for a child. But there is this little part of you that is sad that won’t be having Minho baby. “No, I'm not disappointed.”

You stand up taking the pregnancy test with you as you walk off to your room. You toss the test in the trash bin by your desk hoping that Hyunjin or his girlfriend won’t see the test.

Minho walks into your room leaning against the door frame. His eyes are trained on you as you move around your room. “Pretty, can you come here?”

Stopping in your tracks you pause for a moment before you walk over to him. He takes your face in both of his hands before he leans in pressing his lips to yours for a gentle kiss.

“What’s going on in your head?”

“For the longest time I didn’t think I wanted to have kids, but being with you has really changed my mind.” You suddenly feel emotional being this vulnerable with him. “The thought that I could be pregnant right now really made me realize that’s something I truly want with you in the future.”

A smile spreads across his lips, “you know we have talked about so many things since we met, and I thought we had talked about everything when we got together and I realize we never talked about what we wanted with marriage and kids and stuff of that nature.”

“The way you love coming inside me, and your breeding kink I just assumed you wanted kids.” You almost blush instantly thinking about all the filthy things he has said to you while in bed.

“I’m like you. I didn't really have a desire to have kids before you. To be quite honest I thought I would just be a cat dad.” He lets out a soft laugh and you can’t help but instantly smile.

“So does this mean after we both graduate maybe we can have a baby?”

“Is that what you want?”

Silently you nod.

“You don’t have to ask me twice to knock you up.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes as a soft laugh passes your lips. “In all seriousness Minho, we should probably properly plan that all out and probably find a place of our own.”

“We’ll figure all that out later. How about we think about it in two years. By then we should both be working good jobs and we can find our own place.”

“You know that means I’m gonna have to stop my birth control?” You step back from him smirking. “That means your little breeding kink can fully be explored.” His eyes narrow in on you with each step back you take.

“Does my pretty girl want me to breed her?” Steps towards you. “Do you want me to knock you up?” Your pulse races at his words. “Say the word pretty and I’ll breed you so damn full.”

“I’m on birth control you can’t breed me,” you tease.

“Baby I can fuck you so good that your birth control can’t even stop me.” He takes two big steps towards you. He grabs you by the waist before crashing his lips into your.

“Hey YN,” Hyunjin yells, walking up to your open door.

Minho pulls away from you instantly and you look over at the door to see an embarrassed Hyunjin standing there with his ears red. In the whole time you have all lived together this is really the first time Hyunjin has stumbled in on an intimate moment.

A heavy sigh passes Minho’s lips as he sits down on the edge of your bed. “Hyunjin what’s up?”

“Um I’m sorry if I walked in on something,” he awkwardly scratches the back of his neck.

“Don’t worry, nothing is happening. Minho left the door open.”

“Um Chan just texted me asking me if we all wanted to come over to his place for dinner?”

You want to tell Hyunjin you want to stay home tonight but you don’t. You look over at Minho whose eyes are focused on you. He pats your butt gently, something he does often. “We’re gonna pass Hyunjin. She’s not feeling good and I’m gonna stay home with her.”

“Okay I’ll let them know,” Hyunjin rushes out of your room, closing the door behind him.

You exhale the breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. Sitting on the edge of the bed you lean into Minho resting your head on his shoulder. “I feel like I need a nap.”

“Come on, let's cuddle.” He moves crawling back on your bed.

Curling up next to him you rest your head on his chest. Your arm drapes across his stomach clinging to him. “What happened to you wanting to fuck me?”

“I don’t think you need that right now, pretty. I think right now you just need me to hold you.” He gently rubs your side. Your thoughts are all over the place you didn’t think a pregnancy scare would leave you being so confused.

“Why do I feel so conflicted after taking that pregnancy test?”

“It’s normal to feel that way. You’re allowed to feel conflicted,” he leans down pressing his lips to the top of your head.

“I love you Minho.”

“I love you too, kitten.”

You lay in bed with Minho for an hour before he convinces you to get out of bed. You find yourself sitting in the bathtub with Minho. His arms wrapped around your stomach pressing his lips to your bare shoulder. You have the apartment to yourself. Hyunjin went over to Chan’s with Jeongin.

“Are you scared of what life holds after college?” You break the comfortable silence that has taken over the bathroom.

“I used to be, but I don’t now.” He sounds so calm. “My outlook on life has really changed since we got together. I’m not worried about the future like I used to be. I know we’ll figure things out together.”

“Minho you’re the first person I have been with that makes me excited for what the future holds for us.”

After taking a bath Minho orders take out and sits on your bed eating it with you. Even after being together for over a year you still have separate rooms, but recently Minho has been in your room nonstop. It’s to the point now you exclusively sleep in your room. Minho even stores his pajamas in your dresser.

After eating it takes very little effort for Minho to have you naked and laying on your back as he hovers over you. His body practically plastered to you. Your legs are spread wide with his cock fitted snugly inside you. You hold his face in both your hands. His eyes are locked on yours and you can’t help the warming feeling in your chest. Nobody has ever made you feel quite like Minho does. Maybe that’s because before you were together you were friends first. You loved him as your friend long before you were in love with him.

“Thank you for taking care of me today.” You needed Minho today. From the moment you thought you might be pregnant you knew you needed him by your side.

“I love being able to take care of you,” he presses a gentle kiss to the top of your nose.

“I went through a lot of emotions today, and I’m really happy that I’m with you.” You mean everything you say to him. He’s truly special to you.

“Pretty is that your way of saying I love you?” He cocks his eyebrow at you.

“I thought it was clear I love you?” You can’t help but tease him right back. “Why don’t you show me how much you love me?” Your hands crawl down his tone back landing on his butt cheek. A smile spreads across his lips as you squeeze it. He rolls his hips forward with a firm thrust. You gasp at the feeling of him hitting just the right spot.

“Pretty I’ll show you just how much I love you.”

He sits up on his hunches with his length still inside you. His hands hold your hips with a firm grip as he rocks his hips into you over and over. Your breasts bounce with each thrust. One of your hands grips one of your breasts while the other grips the sheets below you. Looking up you find Minho staring right at you. One of his hands leaves your hip and travels up your stomach slowly. He takes your hand that was holding your breast away from your skin. He laced his fingers with yours and stills his hips. There’s a moment of silence where the only thing that can be heard is both your breathing.

“Minho?” You lean up on your elbows.

“Yes my angel?

“Can we change positions?” Silently he nods, removing himself from you. “Can I ride you?”

He doesn’t say anything, he just moves so he sits with his back against your headboard. Crawling across the bed you straddle his thighs quickly sinking down on his length. “Please touch me,” you whisper. You want nothing more than for him to touch every part of your body and soul. Without another word he leans forward and starts leaving a wet trail of kisses up the base of your neck. His hands travel down your back until they both grip your butt cheeks pulling your body towards him dragging you up his length. You follow his lead, rolling your hips. Your lips crash together muffling the moans that pass your lips.

Pulling your lips away, your forehead rests against him as you move your hips faster. Your thighs burn from the work but you don’t care. You want nothing more than to fully be engulfed in his touch. Leaning back you let out a loud moan. You count your blessings that your roommates aren’t home. The last thing you need is for either of them to hear you practically screaming Minho's name.

“Oh god,” you moan.

“Fuck,” he seems just as lost in pleasure as you. “You’re still so fucking tight.”

Leaning back you rest your hands on his thighs. You roll your hips over and over again. When he reaches down rubbing his thumb across your sensitive bundle of nerves it feels as if he set your body on fire. His thumb makes quick circles on your clit causing you to moan his name. He knows all the right ways to touch you.

“Pretty are you gonna come?” You can’t help but squeeze your eyes shut as your release is rapidly approaching. You nod your head quickly, holding back another moan. “Pretty it’s okay, you can come.”

Your eyes snap open and look into his warm ones. He continues his work on your clit as your high washes over you. You practically scream his name gripping his thighs as you slowly move your hips riding out your high.

You still for a moment leaning forward resting your forehead against his. Your chest is rising and falling rapidly as you try to catch your breath. He pulls back slightly. The smile on his face is something you might not ever forget.

“Can I change the position this time?” He asks, causing a soft laugh to pass your lips. You crawl off him laying on your back with your legs spread. He moves so he’s in his original position resting on top of you. He slides into you with ease. He starts moving right away this time. He sets a slow but steady pace. This time his lips are on yours the whole time. Your lips move together as he keeps his slow pace before he falls apart moaning your name finishing inside you just like he does every single time. When come down from his high he doesn’t leave you. He stays snug inside you. He’s pressing gentle kisses across your face causing you to smile.

“Is this what my future holds?” You ask.

“Are you asking if your future is me fucking you until you can’t move?”

“Minho I can move,” you laugh, lifting your arms.

“You can’t tell me you won’t have jello legs if you stood up?” He cocks his eyebrow at you.

“I’ll give you that. But what I really mean is when I’m sad are you always gonna try and cheer me up?”

“I will do whatever makes you pretty happy. I will hold you, kiss you, and do anything to make you smile,” he pressed a quick kiss to your lips. “And if I get to fuck you until you can’t walk that’s a bonus.”

“I love you so much,” you say as he slowly pulls out or you.

“I love you too.” He jumps out of bed and quickly runs off to the bathroom still naked and comes back with a warm washcloth. “Now time for me to clean up my mess.”

The little things Minho does they that’s a constant reminder that you truly found the right person for you. He makes you so happy without even really trying. You love him so much and you know he loves you.

#stray kids #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #Lee know #Lee know x reader #lee know insert reader #Lee know smut #lee know x y/n #Lee know au #lee know college au #stray kids college au #ssfw #kpop imagine #stray kids imagine #skz #skz smut #skz x reader

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babiebom · 11 months

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Sdv Age and Height Headcanons

A/N: hi! It’s officially my birthday(the 15th) and I am now 23 :((((( I didn’t know what to post because everything is in the works right now but I wanted to post something to celebrate in a way so here!! Only base game stardew characters so no ridgeside or expanded. I do count Rasmodius/Marlon/Gunther/Morris as base game even though they’re expanded upon in mods. If anyone has questions for me (personal or about my fics or whatever) feel free to request or ask!!

Tw: none other than a mention of death in Shane’s part.

Sdv Masterlist

Sebastian

We always have to start with the loml (it tries to autocorrect loml to mommy and lonely btw)

I think he’s about 23-26 I think he has a degree in IT but I’m not sure. He has to be able to have graduated or taken classes or something.

I think he’s 5’10 at the shortest and 6’2 maybe 6’2 1/2 at the tallest.

Idk just seems tall to me because he’s lowkey intimidating.

Sam

Him and Abigail are in the same age range. I think they were born in the same year.

This means he is about 22-25 and his birthday occurs right after summer break(maybe I should do birthday headcanons?)

I think he is a very tall boy(keep in mind that I am short af so what I mean by very tall depends)

So maybe he is 5’10 at the shortest like Seb and 6’3 at the tallest.

I think him and Seb can be interchangeable when it comes to height? Both of them however come behind Harvey and Elliott but not by a lot.

Shane

The shortest bachelor for sure

I think he is very short and stocky he gives me big strong dad energy like your dads not the tallest but man is strong af.

So maybe 5’5-5’8? I mean 5’8 isnt short at all really but keep in mind I’m saying this is the tallest he can be, and the height really does make some guys seem really short when in reality they arent( also my phone tried to add king every time I typed short so there’s that)

Among the older bachelors so about 31-35?

I feel like that’s enough time to go from playing football(sorry gridball) in high school, getting a scholarship to play in college, dropping out to take care of his goddaughter when his friends die and becoming depressed.

He just seems like a 30 something year old going through the trenches :(.

Harvey

I think the oldest out of the bachelors and bachelorettes. He has gone to med school and that is I think at least like 4 years then 8 years? Unless I’m wrong lmao

So I think he would be around 35-38

He’s an older man that has spent his life helping people it’s so cute

He is on the taller side. In my mind he gives gentle giant vibes.

So 6’0 at the shortest and maybe 6’5 at the tallest. I think he towers over people but his posture is so bad that no one notices.

Alex

I think he is between the ass trio and Maru so 21-24

I think he graduated high school only a couple years prior to year one because of how passionate he is about gridball and how he thinks it’ll happen I don’t think anyone older would be like “someday I’ll go pro” they’d be crushed already

I think he is 6’0 exactly. He gives off 6 feet vibes like I can see that if he had a tinder profile it would 100 percent say “I’m 6’0 btw”

Elliott

I think he’s 34 exactly.

He seems like during his 20s he worked in the family business, he did what was told of him because he didn’t really know how to be an adult.

Then when he hit 30 he decided that he didn’t want anything to do with the family business and decided to move to Pelican Town to follow his dreams of writing.

He had enough money saved up to move and cut contact with his parents after they threatened to disown him because of him choosing to chase his dreams.

I think he is up there with Harvey as I’ve already said. I think they could be the same height range and who is taller is interchangeable.

So 6’0-6’5 really. Gives off hunk on the cover of a romance novel vibes.

Penny

I think she’s around 24-26. And I do think she has a teaching license and an education degree so this would give her enough time to have graduated and come back to Pelican Town after like a year of teaching in the city.

She seems sort of mature but immature at the same time, like immature when it comes to romance and dating, and sort of life but also she has the vibes of an introvert that was forced to mature quickly so she is good at making decisions, but at the same time her emotions are out of whack.

I think she’s a petite girl she doesn’t look very tall at all.

So I think she’s 5’2-5’5 I think for women to me 5’5 that’s the cap on people seeming short to me for women.

Abigail

Luckily I didn’t have to think about this too hard because I already answered this in one of my very first posts

I think she is 5’4 to 5’8 (sorry I’m American so 162 to 172 cm?)

She’s the first one I’m doing I’m not converting everyone but it’s like 2.5 cm per inch and 30.5 per foot

Her age is around 22-25 in year 1 I think. I know I’m my original Abigail headcanon I said oldest is 24 but I think 25 is okay.

She is amongst the youngest in her grade level during school years.

Haley

I think she’s on the younger side, like the same age range as Alex. Especially because she gives the vibes if she just graduated and hasn’t grown out of her mean girl/insecure personality

So she’s about 21-24

I think she’s similar to Abigail where she gives off like petite girl energy but also tall girl energy. Like I feel like she was a cheerleader and people always said that she could model so maybe she’s on the taller side

So maybe 5’4-5’7

Idk what it is about women that are 5’7 are specifically beautiful to me, they seem super tall but not so tall that it makes me feel like they’re a giant, their arms and legs are long idkidk.

Emily

She’s the older sister of Haley, and I think she’s pretty close to Shane and Gus so I think she’s on the older side

I also think that she could be the oldest out of all the bachelorettes.

So maybe 29-35

She seems a lot more mature than Haley, as well as understanding and confident in her life and her choices

As well as she doesn’t seem insecure or as if she’s weird at all like I think younger people are.

I think her height range is very small compared to the others like

She’s 5’5-5’6

She gives off the vibes for that like not too short not too tall just average.

Maru

In my opinion Maru is the youngest out of the bachelorettes AND bachelors because I think everyone is around the same age and she’s the younger sister of Sebastian who I think is closer to everyone else’s ages so it makes her younger.

I think she’s about 19-21

Like yes she’s working as a nurse, but it’s a small town and she’s an actual genius, I don’t think they care that she’s young. Besides Harvey handles everything on his own she mostly does paperwork and assistant stuff.

Her height has to be around like 5’2-5’4 I think she is a very small girl despite Robin and Demetrius being a little on the taller side.

Leah

I think she might be the second oldest out of the bachelorettes

Like her backstory is her working in a dead end job, she was in a longtime relationship and could’ve gotten married had she not decided to leave

So she’s about 27-31 she’s not the same age as Emily, but she does hang out with Elliott so I think she’s a little older.

I think she’s about 5’6 she makes me feel as if she’s about average in heigh because of how artistic she is I feel like anyone smaller would be very disadvantaged when carving or doing anything and so would someone taller.

Pierre

I think he would be about 5’9-5’11

Like he doesn’t seem too tall but he does give me taller side energy

Would probably tell people he’s 6 feet bc he gives me the vibes of someone who would because he wants to seem like he’s perfect.

I think he’s like 45-48

He is for sure older than Caroline especially because I believe he is into the traditional gender roles which means younger wife and older husband.

Caroline

Caroline I think is a very average woman. And not by looks because I think she actually would be quite attractive like I feel like she would be vERY beautiful.

I mean in terms of her body, she isn’t too big or too small, she didn’t have too much fat or too little her body is just average.

So I think she would be 5’4-5’6

I also think all of the moms are in a similar age range so she would be 44-47

Honestly with the way they’re designed I would’ve said 30s but that would make no sense if their kids are in the marrying age/having kids range.

Jodi

I think she is on the shorter side, she gives me short thicc mom energy. Especially because Kent is a military man.

So maybe 5’2-5’5 bc I think Kent towers over her and so does Sam. The kids did not get her genes because I do think Vincent would be quite tall when he is an adult.

I also think she would be like 43-46 she has a kid that’s an adult and a kid that’s a child so I think this age range would be more plausible for her to have had one kid young and the other one at an older age.

Kent

Is large and in charge like BIG MAN

So I think he must be 6’2-6’5

Like towers over most people and intimidates them based on size alone.

Similar age as Jodi. I think they probably were in the same grade in high school so same age 43-46

Vincent

Right now like as of year 1 would probably be tiny

Like people think he’s going to turn out like Jodi but would actually turn out to be like Kent and Sam and be huge.

So maybe like 3’10?

Kinda small for his age but not like super small?

He is probably 6 or 7 years old

So CUTEEEEEE

Evelyn

Granny Evelyn is probably TINY

Like I think she is 4’9

She’s so cute and small and was probably taller when she was younger

Also old as HELL from how she looks

So maybe from 80-95

Because she as well as George have to older than everyone on the older side.

George

Was probably on the taller side before he was wheelchair bound.

Probably 5’11 exactly like not super tall but tall enough.

Him and Evelyn have such a big height gap and it’s ADORABLE.

I think maybe 2 or 3 years older than Evelyn

83-98 so super old lmao

Pam

I think the oldest out of the parents

So maybe 49-54

She hates the fact that she’s on the older side out of the parents, especially because she isn’t really close to the others as much as she would like to be. She feels out of place among them.

I think she’s about 5’6 I can see her being VERY beautiful when she was younger, and she probably still has a nice body and face, especially if she stops drinking.

Lewis

His ass is probably in his 60s but sees himself as younger

I think 60s isn’t really old at all, like it’s still enough time to do different things.

But his glory days are over

Probably 5’9 like average height.

Clint

I think he might be younger than Emily. His crush seems very immature to me. And it makes him a little less incel-y but idk.

So maybe 27-30?

He’s definitely old enough to know not to act a fool but like it makes sense at this age that he’s an asshole after being rejected for so long y’know.

I think he’s maybe 5’9? Not too short but not too tall. Definitely thinks being taller could’ve helped his situation.

Gunther

I cannot tell anything about this man at ALL

He’s very mysterious

I think he is literally 40-59

Could literally be anywhere in that

He’s probably 5’10 too since I think he’s able to see something on the shelves, and he can see over the counter.

Gus

He’s on the older side. Idk if he has kids or anything, but he gives dad vibes

So maybe 50-59 not too old but like middle aged.

Very sweet and that’s what gives me the father vibes.

Also he doesn’t seem like a gossip but knows a lot which gives me that age range.

I think he’s either 5’6 or 6’3 nothing else. I think 5’6 is more likely though.

Demetrius

I think he is a little younger than Robin. It’s lowkey what makes him and Sebastian to be so bad at getting along.

So maybe 40-42?

Old enough to be a dad but not really old enough I guess.

I think he is VERY tall. Especially since in game it looks like he has a little height over Robin.

So 6’3 at the shortest? 6’5 at the most?

Robin

43-46

I think she had Sebastian at 20? Maybe younger but I think 20 is a good age. She was young and barely out of teenagedom that her parents were probably upset.

I think she’s a little tall but not too tall like 5’7

Very beautiful and her legs are longer than her torso but not in a tall SpongeBob vibe y’know.

Marlon

I think he’s in his 50s? So 50-60

I think he is younger than Lewis and that’s also why they can’t really get along other than Marnie.

Probably 5’10

Like tall enough that when fighting monsters he has no disadvantage but not so tall that he can’t get anything done.

Linus

He is also mysterious.

He looks old but at the same time he lives in nature and his looks probably don’t match his age.

So anywhere from 50-70?

Some 70 year olds look young and can move around and I don’t doubt that he is agile due to him being a nature man.

Leo

On the taller side of kids.

So sort of like 4’5 or almost 5’0

I think Leo is older than Jas and Vincent

But not too much older that it’s weird.

So maybe 10?

Marnie

I think she is on the older side. I don’t think that she is too old, for sure younger than Lewis

I think she’s like 50-56?

Young enough that Lewis wants to sleep with her for sure

Also young enough that she still hopes by some miracle that she has a child

I think she’s like 5’2-5’4

Rasmodius

I think he is either like super old like hundreds of years or like a mortal person old

So maybe like 60-70

Quite a bit older than Caroline and old enough that he has lived and seen some things

Like an affair and a divorce and losing everything

Probably 6’0 exactly ngl

Jas

Also on the smaller side, and will end up like 5’2 at most when she’s older

So like 3’7 first year she is a very small BABY

She’s also the same age as Vincent so 6 or 7

Willy

I think he is old but doesn’t look it

So in his 60s-70s

Has time to fish and perfect it has time to gain things and lose things

Has lived through a LOT

I think he is 5’5-5’9

A bit on the smaller side but y’know short kings exist.

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 7 months

Text

Before You Go

Pairing: Dean Winchester x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: Reader is a grad student in college trying to work hard for her degree, but a certain green eyed stranger keeps showing up and turns her life upside down. Will she push him away? Or will she finally realize that he’s not going anywhere? (I’m so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Tropes: Angst, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Age Difference (Reader is early to mid-20's and Dean is probably early 30's)

Word Count: 5.5K (I have an addiction don't judge me)

Warnings: Some swearing (once or twice), mentions of sex (not explicit at all), implied sex, self-deprecating thoughts (Dean), Dean might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. I’m not going to lie, this one is a little self-indulgent. This is only my second supernatural fic, so please be gentle. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Masterlist

Part 2

********************************************

"Did you understand anything from that lecture?" Tim asks nudging your shoulder.

The sour smell of beer and sweat fades in and out of your nose as you make your way to the Science building through the mass of students on the way to the football game. It was a Thursday night, Thursday night for everyone else meant tailgating, cheap beer, and face paint, but Thursday night for you meant four hours in the anatomy lab surrounded by the oppressive smell of formaldehyde and bent over a table examining the internal intricacies of the human body.

It wasn’t unwelcome, you knew what you signed up for when you decided to go to medical school, but you still wished that the lab was earlier in the day instead of at 6 pm.

The air is filled with the dull throb of energy, pulsing with the music from speakers all over campus, and through the throngs of people that pass you on the way to the stadium. The buzz of excitement in the air vibrated through your nerve endings. If you paid attention to how well the football team was doing, you would have known that tonight was the championship, but the closest you got to pigskin was the bag of pork rinds in your backpack and the occasional football player that asked you for help finding research materials during your shifts at the library.

"Nope." You reply jostling past a group of guys toting a giant stuffed pig wearing jersey of the school’s rival while they catcall some girls up ahead dressed from head to toe in bright red.

"Then why did you keep nodding?"

"Because Professor Drake was staring right at me!"

"You didn't have to make eye contact."

"It's a little late for that don't you think?" You smile up at him. He's taller than you, with dark hair falling forward into his glasses and a lean build. "But it's alright, I'll just binge watch YouTube videos."

Tim laughs adjusting his backpack over his shoulder. You had been lab partners since your first year, randomly assigned and forced to collaborate, but after many late night study sessions and mental breakdowns, Tim was one of your only friends.

“You seem to spend a lot of time on YouTube." He smiles.

"It's free education."

"Seems ridiculous to pay all this money just to learn it on YouTube."

"If YouTube handed out degrees for watching videos I’d be a doctor by now. I’d probably also have a degree in culinary arts.” You look down to check the watch on your wrist. You were both running late for lab. Dr. Welsh hated it when students were late, in fact, he was notorious for locking the door. Each week there was always some poor soul that banged on the door for entry, but Dr. Welsh knew no mercy. One time, you witnessed another student attempt to sneak in through the window an hour late. Dr. Welsh made them go back out the way they came, despite the lab being on the third floor.

At least the student brought a ladder with him.

“Culinary arts?”

“I like pie. Plus baking helps me cope with my stress.” You knock into his shoulder to shut him up. “What? You don’t watch anything weird on YouTube?”

“I usually start watching videos to understand the lectures and suddenly it’s been 7 hours, it’s 3 am and I’m watching a timelapse of metal rusting.”

“We’ve all been there buddy.”

"Hey doll-face!" You hear from somewhere behind you, but you ignore it, believing it to be another group of guys who splash beer over the sidewalk.

You glance down at your watch again.

"We're not going to be late." Jake says sensing your anxiety. "We've got 5 minutes."

"Early is on time, on time is late, late is inexcusable." You sing-song.

"Dr. Welsh embroider that on a pillow for you?"

"No it’s just-"

Someone grabs your backpack and pulls you back a step. What the- You whirl around prepared to cuss out a drunken frat boy, but you weren't expecting Dean Winchester.

"Dean." You say in surprise.

He looks better than you remember. Dean's wearing a red flannel covered by a black jacket, his hair tousled just the right amount to look effortless, his green eyes crinkled around the edges as his mouth pulls into a smile that makes your knees weak.

Your relationship, if you could even call it that, began your first week of classes, two years ago. You had just moved into your apartment and met your new roommate, but instead of going out to the new student mixer with her, you decided to stay in and unpack. It was past midnight when you heard a commotion in the apartment next door and when you opened your front door to investigate, you found Dean in the hallway leaning against the wall. His clothes were torn, he had a knife in his hand, blood was soaked through the front of his shirt, but when his eyes met yours, you weren't afraid. He looked so broken, so small that you had to help him. So you pulled him into your apartment and stitched him up the best you could, while he tried to lie about how it happened and explain why he looked like he'd been through a blender. Dean had never been good at lying to you, not even then. He was also the biggest baby you had ever met when it came to wound care.

In the months that followed Dean continued to show up, each time with injuries less and less life threatening asking you to help him, until one day he showed up perfectly fine and continued to show up. You would spend every minute together for a few days and then he would leave like nothing happened, only to show up again in a few weeks and it would start all over again. Sometimes you thought that he wanted more than just a few days together, but then he would just leave, not giving you any other explanation. You hadn't expected to fall for him as hard as you did, but each time he left it broke you. You found yourself hoping each day that he would show up, only to be disappointed when he didn't. Days would drag by fading into shades of gray until finally Dean would show up and everything went back to color, only to sink back into monochrome when he left. The last time you had seen him was a month ago, when you told him that you couldn't do this anymore and told him not to come back.

But now he was here, again.

"Hey Doll-face." Dean smiles wider.

You try to ignore how your heart stutters in your chest when he smiles at you.

"Do you know this guy?" Tim asks you taking a step forward to put himself between Dean and you.

Dean's eyes trace Tim, smile slipping into confident smirk as he sizes him up. He opens his mouth, but you interrupt whatever thought was about to come out.

"Unfortunately I do." You sigh. "Tim can you give us a minute."

"Sure. But-"

"I know." You say, understanding that he was going to remind you what time it was. "We won't be late."

"I'll be over there." Tim puts a healthy distance between the two of you, far enough to give you space, but close enough that he can see you.

Dean is still smirking at him. "Boyfriend?" His eyes flit to yours, amused.

"Lab partner." You adjust your grip on your backpack unsure what to do.

I said everything I needed to say the last time. I thought that was it. Did he think I didn't mean it?

You think about the last time he was here, when you told him that you couldn't do this anymore and when he finally left, how you skipped all your classes and stayed in bed for two days clutching a pillow to your chest and wishing that it was him. It had felt like the end. The end of whatever the hell this had been. Sometimes you wished that you had defined it the first time you slept together, wished that you had told him you didn't do that ever, that you didn't just sleep with people without feelings because you knew sooner or later it would end up like this.

Then again you knew that you always had feelings for him, since the moment you locked eyes with his the night you met.

"He’s cute. If you’re into that geeky kind of thing. Though you could always date Sam-"

"What are you doing here?"

"I was in the neighborhood. Plus I didn’t want to miss the big game.” Dean's eyes flit to the mass of people swarming around you, shouting and singing as they stumble down the cracked pavement. The dark shadows of the buildings stretch long over campus, illuminated by the lamplights that line the sidewalks.

"You should have called"

"I did. You never pick up" He arches a perfect eyebrow.

"Most would take that as a hint"

"Well Sweetheart given my profession you not picking up made me worry."

By now you knew exactly what he did. Despite Dean not acting like he wanted a relationship, when all was quiet and it was just the two of you laying in bed he confided in you, told you things about his life that made you hold him close and wish that you could make him forget all about it. You loved those soft moments with Dean, when it felt like more and you could imagine that Dean wanted to be as wrapped up in you as you were in him.

Your heart clenches in your chest as you try to forget it all, forget the day he walked into your life, and forget how much you like him.

"I can’t do this with you right now, I’ve got a lab in 3 minutes." You turn towards where Tim is standing, prepared to leave.

"Come on you can blow off one lab.” Dean grabs your backpack turning you back to face him. “We can go to the big game. You know I can’t say no to free beer-“ The look in his eyes is joking.

He doesn't understand.

You shake him off. "No I can't Dean. This is important to me. This is my life. I can't drop everything just because you show up out of the blue."

"It wouldn't be out of the blue if you picked up your phone." His smile dips into an attractive pout that makes it very difficult to think.

"Dean why are you here?"

"I told you, I was in the neighborhood-"

"We talked about this. I can't do this anymore."

"I remember you talking about it."

"Yes and I remember you leaving." You snap as the memory of the last time you saw him rises in the back of your throat. You think about the days that followed, when you couldn't focus and flunked a test.

"Y/n-“ Dean sighs.

"Look, I like spending time with you, but I can't keep doing this to myself. You show up, we spend every second together for days, and then you leave. It would be one thing if we were trying to do long distance, but we’re not. All I get is radio silence for weeks and then you show up all over again like nothing happened, expecting to pick up right where we left off, and the cycle begins all over again."

"I don't go radio silent for weeks. It’s you that doesn’t pick up your phone or text me back.”

"Yes you do and I can't do it. I won't do it. Because every time you leave I wonder if it's the last time I'll ever see you and-" You take in a breath to stop the ball of emotion that lodges itself in your throat. "It does something to me. And I'm not saying that what you do is any less important than what I'm trying to accomplish here. I’m not telling you to stop hunting. But this is my life Dean, my future. And I don’t want to put that in jeopardy because you show up every few weeks when you’re feeling restless. I want more than a few days every few weeks. I want more and I'm worth more. And if you can't give that to me that's fine, but please stop coming around and so I can find someone else who can."

The expression on Dean's face shifts, it's no longer the playful smirk or attractive pout, it almost looks heartbroken.

But that can't be right. Dean doesn't see me that way.

You look at where Tim is waiting for you to avoid Dean's gaze. He’s looking down at the watch on his wrist and you can feel his apprehension.

"I've got to get to my lab." You turn away from Dean, but stop halfway to Tim. "It was good to see you Dean. I wish you the best."

As Tim and you begin to walk away, you can feel Dean's eyes on you the whole way up the stairs into the science building, but you refuse to turn back.

"Are you okay?" Tim whispers.

"I will be. Let's just go before Dr. Welsh locks the door." You mutter while pushing down the guilt that rose when you thought of how Dean looked when you walked away.

********************************************

Despite Dr. Welsh’s attempts to lock the door, you were far too angry with Dean to let another man stand in your way, so when you and Tim arrived to lab 10 seconds before the clock struck 6, you shoved your boot in the door before Dr. Welsh could shut it. And by some miracle he let you in. Maybe it was the murder in your eyes.

Tim had been stunned, you were usually more reserved, not quick tempered. But everything that happened with Dean rubbed you the wrong way.

You couldn’t decide if you liked him or hated him. Right now the hate was winning.

How dare he? You thought to yourself, hand clenching on the scalpel so tightly that Tim backed up. How dare he just show up again after I told him not to?

“Y/n, are you okay?” Tim had asked.

“I’m fine. Don’t I look fine?” You’d snapped at him.

Even Dr. Welsh had given you a wide berth through lab.

After you cleaned up everything it was 10:26 pm, which meant you had a little time before your late shift in the library.

“Did you want to go see if that shawarma food truck is still parked around the corner?” Tim asks hesitantly.

“No. I’m just gonna go to the library and study before my shift.” You mumble, shouldering your backpack and ignoring the urge to think about Dean.

Hopefully he took the hint and he’s gone. The thought brought a prick of guilt. Would that be the last time I ever saw him? Would those be the last words I ever said to him? You fight the urge to call him, to apologize, because the one thing you had wanted to say was that you liked him and you didn’t want him to go, you wanted him to stay in your life permanently. Sure long distance was hard, but for him it would be worth it.

“Oh.” Tim pauses for a minute. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Huh?”

“Well that Dean guy. You seemed kinda upset.”

“I was- am. But it’s okay, give me a few hours I’ll be over it. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Sure.”

“Make sure to send the link to that Timelapse of metal rusting.” You try to smile, but the joke falls flat.

“Okay.” Tim watches you go.

The library was only a 9 minute walk from the science building, but it still felt too long. You longed to be lost in your notes, to think of anything else other than Dean, but you couldn’t.

Why did he have to come back? Why couldn’t he have just let it lie? I was doing better- You think about the weeks that followed his last visit, a haze of homework, tests, and work. Well, I was doing okay.

The thrum of music is still in the air, but now less people pass you as you walk down the sidewalk, and the ones that do are holding hands and laughing. Your thoughts shift to Dean again.

I like him, but I have to get over him because it’s not going anywhere. You think about the first time you slept together. Maybe this is my fault, maybe I should have defined this from the beginning. I mean, I know the kind of person he is… That thought makes you pause. Sure the first few times you’d patched his wounds Dean was sexy and flirty, but all the times that followed he seemed, sweet, charming. It wasn’t that you spent every moment in bed, he had taken you out to dinner at the diner down the street, fought with you over the last slice of pie, took you to a bar for drinks where he shamelessly beat you at pool, other times he waited for you to be done with your classes to make sure that you didn't have to walk home alone at night. You remember how mad he had been when you told him you did that, but gas was so expensive and it was easier to walk the four blocks.

Someone grabs your arm from behind, pulling you out of your memories, and you finally snap. Using the only self defense move you knew, besides S-I-N-G from Miss Congeniality, you knock off the hand and flip the offender over your shoulder prepared to spray them in the face with the mace in your pocket.

But then you realize who it is.

Dean frowns up at you from the ground. “When I taught you that, I didn’t expect you to use it on me.”

“Just be happy that I didn’t pepper spray you.” Your eyes narrow.

Maybe I should. It would make me feel better.

“Would have been the highlight of my night.” He stands up from the ground brushing off the front of his clothes with a pointed look.

“Dean what are you still doing here?”

“I want to talk.”

“I’ve said all I need to.”

“But I haven’t.”

“I don’t care. You’ve heard what I need to say and I’m sick of you not listening.”

“Y/n-“

“Fine, I’ll say it one more time, but listen this time. I've never, never depended on anyone else in my life. It's been me, me for a long time.” You poke your finger into his chest to emphasize your point. “Then you just sauntered in and changed everything. You made me care about you, worry about you, and you made me depend on you showing up in my life. Every time you leave it breaks me. Every time I’m in a funk for days. The last time you left, I cried for two days and I didn’t go to any of my classes! I'm trying to be serious about my life. And I can't do that if you show up every few weeks and make me expect something and then leave a few days later and I'm devastated.”

Dean’s eyes widen in surprise. “I didn’t know that.”

“I have to get over you Dean, and I can't do that if you keep showing up. So please just go.” You turn away from him.

His hand comes down on your arm again to turn you back to him. “I don’t want you to get over me.”

“What?”

“Do you think I like leaving you? Do you really think it’s that easy for me?” He looks hurt.

“It certainly seems to be when you walk out after a few days with a smile like it means nothing! Like I mean nothing-“ You fight the tears that burn against your eyes. You wanted to be something for him just as much as he was something for you, but you were afraid. You hadn’t depended on anyone since you graduated and moved away from home. You weren’t used to needing someone in your life this much.

"You mean everything!” Dean shouts grabbing your shoulders. “It’s me that means nothing."

You blink your eyes for a second, not comprehending what he’s trying to say. "Dean what are you talking about?"

"I didn't think you wanted that-" He looks down.

Your eyes trace the slump in his shoulders, the frown on his handsome face, and the way he won’t meet your gaze.

What is he talking about?

You try to think of a time that you’d seen him look so vulnerable, but the only time you imagine was the night you met.

"Wanted what?"

"Me.” Dean’s voice is a whisper.

"I'm confused."

His eyebrows are furrowed, lips pressed into a tight line. “I’m nothing like you.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“You’re a little younger than me and you’re smart and you’ve got this bright future ahead of you. You don’t need someone like me dragging you down-“

“Someone like you? Dragging me down? Dean what are you talking about?" You can't comprehend what he's saying. You reach up to cup his cheeks, but Dean pulls back from you, glancing away.

“I didn’t go to a fancy college, I barely finished high school. I’ve spent most of my life in motel rooms committing credit card fraud and trying not to die. And then I met you. You’re funny and caring and so smart, and I just thought that you would like it more if I came by every once in a while to relieve some tension. I didn’t think that you would want me to stay.”

He didn’t think that I would want him? That can't be right. Dean is so confident usually. You search his face and see the genuine vulnerability behind his green eyes.

“Are you serious?” You ask him.

He doesn’t say anything.

“Dean, you are smart-“

“Not the same way you are”

“Dean.” You can’t help but take his hand. Dean’s green eyes focus on yours for a second, wide and open. “You don’t have to go to college to be smart. You’re resourceful and you know more about supernatural creatures than anyone else. Even the top scientists and doctors in the world don’t believe in them and they went to stuffy old colleges and fight with one another over who’s smarter. I don’t care that you didn’t go to a fancy college. What you do is important, probably more important than what I’m going to do. You protect people, you’ve saved the world more than once, and sure maybe it’s not glamorous to some people but it is to me.”

His eyes widen in surprise.

“Have you thought that maybe I like spending time with you because you’re so different than the people I see everyday?” You ask him softly, squeezing his hand.

“No.” Dean mutters.

“I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth, I don’t have lavish wealthy parents bankrolling me. My dad is a mechanic. I work two jobs and send him money so I don’t have to worry about him. Sometimes I feel like a fraud. But when you show up I don’t feel like a freak. With you I feel like I don’t have to pretend, I can just be me. And I like you, a lot. This has never just been about relieving tension or sex for me. Ever. I mean it’s nice-“

“Just nice?” Dean raises an eyebrow.

You flush bright red. “I like spending time with you without that too. All the times we spent laying in bed or went to a bar or went to get food, and we talked were equally as wonderful for me. I like talking with you. I like hearing about your life. I just assumed that you had someone in every state that you visit when you’re feeling restless and that you didn’t want a relationship.”

“There’s no one else. Hasn’t been since I met you.”

Deans eyes lock with yours as you comprehend what he just confessed.

“Really?” Your voice is only a whisper.

“Fuck I’m not good at this romantic comedy shit-“ He mutters to himself shaking his head. “I like you too. I wish that I could be here all the time. I hate leaving you. It’s too quiet. When I’m not here all I do is think about you, what you’re doing, how your day was.”

Your entire body explodes with his words, heart beating so fast you think it’ll grow wings and take flight.

“When I was younger I used to laugh at Sam because he wanted a normal life, but with you I understand. You’re so different than anyone I’ve ever met and it hurts me when I’m away from you.” Dean continues with a soft smile that makes you lose all feeling in your legs.

He takes your other hand. “I understand that what you’re doing is important and I’m not asking you to quit school. All I’m asking is that you give me a chance. I want to make this work. I know that long distance isn’t easy, but I want to try.” His eyes search yours, begging for a answer, but you can barely breathe let alone speak. You watch his face fall as he takes your silence as your answer. “But I understand if you don’t want to, because you are worth more. You’re worth more than a few days, than a phone call or a text. You deserve someone who can be here with you all the time. You’re worth more than what I can give you. And you shouldn’t have to settle-“

You grab the front of his flannel because you can’t think of anything to say and pull him down to you for a kiss. Pins and needles trace down your spine as his soft lips move against yours. He smiles against your mouth, folding you into him, his large hand on the small of your back just under your backpack causing warmth to shoot down your spine. You lose yourself in the way his body fits around yours

“I’m not settling.” Your hands cup his cheeks as you look deep into his eyes. “I never want you to feel that way, because you are worth a hundred of any man I have ever met in my life. And if it’s my cross to bear to make you understand that every day of my life, then so be it. Because I would be lucky to spend any amount of time with you. I don’t want anyone else. I just want you, Dean. I’ve wanted you since the day we met and every day after. And I’m yours as long as you want me.”

Dean’s smile breaks open something in the pit of your stomach and goosebumps scorch across your skin. “I can’t imagine not wanting you.” He presses his forehead against yours.

You stand there with his warm hand pressed into your back trying to think of another time that you felt even a fraction of what you feel for him. You think about your high school boyfriend, about a few of the guys you dated in during your undergrad years, but you come up with nothing. Because you can’t compare him to anyone else you’ve ever met. And it hurt you to think that Dean thought so little of himself in the grand scheme of things.

He leans down to kiss you again, pulling you against his chest so tight that everything blissfully falls away.

“Are you hungry?” He whispers against your lips after a minute.

“Yes, but my shift at the library starts soon. I’m there til 2.” You tighten your hands at the back of his neck, not wanting to let him go.

“Okay. I’ll go with you.”

“Dean it’s okay if you just want to go back to my apartment and sleep. I can give you the key-“ You notice the dark circles under his eyes, but you know that Dean wasn’t one to complain about being tired.

“It’s worth being tired if I get to see you.” Dean smiles. “But I’ll go get us some food, because I’m hungry too.”

“Don’t forget the pie.”

“Have I ever?” He brushes his lips to yours one more time, but you don’t remove your arms from around his neck. “You’re going to have to let me go doll.”

“Just 5 more minutes.”

********************************************

You spend the weekend together in your apartment. All those blissful moments together solidify the thought that this is real, that this time it’s going to be different. Every night going to bed with Dean tucking you against him and waking up every morning with your head on his chest feels like a dream, and you never want to wake. Every kiss and intimate moment between you feels like more, and you have to keep reminding yourself that it isn’t just sex, hasn’t ever been just sex. Dean wants to be there with you all the time, hold you close to him and share things with you. And this time you finally understand that you do help him forget and know that you do bring him as much comfort as he brings you.

When Monday comes and Dean has to go, you try not to think of it as the end.

Dean leans back against the door of the Impala, his hands on your hips, green eyes blazing in the sun, but it’s his eyes that warm you more than the sun’s rays.

"Sweetheart-" Dean begins, sensing what you’re thinking. His thumbs rub smooth circles against waist where your t-shirt rests.

"I know." You press your face into his flannel, inhaling the scent you ascribe to Dean. He smells like oil, leather, and the spicy scent of the soap he uses that tickles your nose.

"Hey." His free hand comes under your chin to raise your gaze back to his. "I promise I'm gonna come back. I promise that we're going to make this work. It’s going to be different.” He cups your cheek, eyes soft and understanding.

“I know, but you’re still leaving.” Your tighten your arms around his chest.

“I wish I didn’t have to. But Sam called, he needs me-“

“I know.” You breathe.

You don’t want Dean to feel any worse than he does about leaving, especially when you remember what he said to you a few days ago, about you deserving more and about how he wished he could be more for you. Deep down you know that both of you are determined to make this work, so you put on a smile.

“It’s okay.” You gently rub his back. “You’ll be back in 2 weeks and I’ll be on spring break in a month.”

“Does that mean I’ll get to see you in a bikini?” Dean grins.

“You’ll have to wait and see.”

“Hmm. Well until I see you-“ He raises his right hand from where it rests on your hip to remove the large silver ring from his finger. "Don't panic, it's not an engagement ring." Dean's smile breaks you a little. "Just me promising that I'll come back, that I'll call and text you so much that you'll be sick of me." He slides the ring onto your thumb, the weight comforting.

"I could never be sick of you."

“Just you wait.” He winks, holding your hand to his chest. “I bet I can prove you wrong.”

“I welcome the challenge.”

The kiss goodbye is bittersweet, but you hold yourself together, refusing to cry as Dean gets into his car and leaves. You watch the Impala disappear around the corner, taking your heart with it, but just as it does your phone rings.

“Hello?”

“I miss you.” Dean’s voice fills the line and this time you can’t stop the tears.

“I miss you too.”

“I promise I’ll be back in two weeks.”

“Okay. Please be careful.” You remember all the stories he's told you over the time you’ve known him, all the horrible things that happened to him and Sam. Sometimes you wish he hadn’t, because you can’t help but worry.

“I’m always careful.” You can hear him rolling his eyes.

“As the person who has spent the past 2 years patching you up, I can say with certainty that you are not always careful.”

“Then I promise to be more careful than usual.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” The wind picks up, pulling your hair from the ponytail at the back of your head.

“I’ll call you when I make it back to the bunker.”

“Good.”

“Bye y/n.”

“Bye Dean.”

Your gaze drops to the heavy ring on your thumb and you hold tight to the hope and belief that this time is different, allowing the memories of the past few days to brush away any doubts that threaten the thought of what the future will bring.

********************************************

Thank you so much for reading! I am considering doing a series with this reader and Dean, but let me know what y’all think!

#spn #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester x you #spnfandom #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural fluff #spn fanfiction #dean winchester fic #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfic #soft dean

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the-soliloquies-of-sadists · 1 year

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#374

“Hey! Midnight bathroom run too? Yeah. I knew I shouldn’t have let my wife’s mother book this tiny inn in the middle of nowhere Germany for my honeymoon. I live in a three-bedroom apartment in Manhattan two blocks from Central Park, and now I have to share a toilet. I would gladly pay for a suite at a five-star hotel, but my wife likes it. Whoever came up with “Happy wife happy life” should be shot. "This jet lag sucks. This is my second night here in Europe, and I haven’t shaken it. How about you?... You’re here a week? Wow. It looks like we will be competing for the toilet for a number of days. It’s us and him in there. That Argentinian has been in there for a bit. I see the toothbrush in your hand; when he comes out, you can go ahead of me, as long as you are fast; I’m going to be spending some time in there. It seems that the only way I can get to sleep is to enjoy my left hand….

“I see you smiling. You know what I’m talking about…. Don’t be shy about it. All guys do it.

“And the best part is as I get close, I turn on the bidet and let the warm water run across my shithole. It’s not quite like a tongue diving in deep. I haven’t had my ass eaten out in years….

“…You a faggot?... Your silence makes me wonder that you might be, but your dick tenting in your robe tells me everything. Open your robe and let me see….

“Just as I thought. You want help me go to sleep? Good. Let’s go in your room. You can brush your teeth afterwards and wash away the taste of my shithole….

“Now we are behind closed doors, you can lose the robe…. Damn you are a small fag. How tall are you?... I have a foot on you; I’m 6’5”. How much do you weigh?... I’m 290, twice your weight. You are the size of the faggots I used to use back in grad school at Columbia. I like them small. I hope you like to be manhandled. Don’t care if you don’t.

“Get on your knees fag. Go on reach in. Take my cock out. Even soft, I’m bigger than your tiny four-inch pecker. Hard, I more than double you.

“It’s clear that there is only one man in this room, and it ain’t you. There is only one cock in this room; yours is to be ignored. You got that?... Fag, you got that?...

“That’s ‘Yes Sir.’ I saw the hunger on your face in the hall when I mentioned that I loved a tongue in my shithole. I’ve noticed the few times you’ve been checking me out as our paths crossed. It’s the same hunger I saw on my bitch boys I used on the side when I was in grad school. They saw a big man with a big dick, and they did whatever I wanted. I see that hunger on your face now, and I’m expecting the same from you.

“You drink piss…. That wasn’t a question. Open your toilet mouth…. Take my head in. Fuck yeah. Relax and start swallowing…. Ahh, that feels so good. You are a natural.

“Is your cunt cleaned out? Probably not. If you can handle my cock in your throat, I’ll be back tomorrow night to sample that cunt. Here sit on the floor with your head against the wall.

“I want to tell you how to get me to cum. Like I said, I was going to use the bidet to not only to clean my shithole but to make my hole feel good. Your tongue is taking over that responsibility.

“I haven’t had a shower since this morning, and I’ve been out all day in the sun. My crack is going to reek. I know you won’t mind.

“Place a hand on each of my thighs. Take a deep breath. Now pay attention. Your tongue needs to be inside my shithole pretty much all the time…. Like that. Fuck yeah. Don’t be alarmed if I fart on your faggot face. It’s bound to happen.

“Damn! Fuck! Your tongue is digging deep. Faggot you know how to eat a man’s shithole. Oh man. I’m getting close. But I need to sample that throat.

“Fuck. Hold that faggot head against the wall and open up that throat, cause I’m going right down to your stomach, all nine inches to the root.

“Take it faggot! Take it! I don’t care if you gag, gasp, or even puke all over me, you are fucking taking it. Open up that throat, dedicate that airway to me. Oh fuck. That’s it faggot.

“When I’m ready to cum, it’s with your tongue in my shithole, and I want you jacking me off. And I’m getting close. Oh yeah! I’m going to turn around real fast. So close. Hell the fuck yeah. Get that tongue ready. Ready? Now!

“…Spread my cheeks and get that tongue inside me and start fucking with it. Now reach under me and jack me off. Fuck boy. I’m going to cum. Keep doing what you are doing. Urg! Uh! Uh! Fuck! Fuck yeah!

“Oh man. No one told you to stop. Keep tongue fucking and jacking me. Milk the last drops out and let them fall.

“Faggot you did good. I’m want to do this every night…. Ok… Ok… You can stop.

“Whew boy. Hand me my underwear. And your pillow too. The pillow is to wipe up your throat slime and remaining cum drops from my dick. The other side is to wipe my ass. When you go to sleep, you can smell me.

“Whew, that was a huge load on the floor. Start licking…. Don’t give me that look again, or I will smack you again. That load puddled on your floor should be gold to you. Lap it up or suck it up, I don’t care.

“Hell, you can even jack off while doing that, once I’m gone. I don’t care.

“You want me to come back tomorrow night?... Good, then do as you are told. Atta boy! Do you have any plans for tomorrow during the day?... You can go to a museum another day.

“You’re doing good boy. While you continue to lick my load, pay attention to what I have to say. In the morning, my wife and I are heading to some castle. Before we leave, I am going to slip an envelope under the door. It’ll have €1500. We are about an hour and a half from Berlin. I want you to go there, find one of the sex shops. I want you to purchase a bunch of items.

“First, I want a rimseat. You know how to eat my shithole, and you will do it again. Find a chastity cage and have them put it on you. Have them put the key in the same envelope and seal it. Have them write their store’s name across the back of it. I want that cage to be tight and most importantly, I want it to prevent an erection, not one that pushes the cage forward should that tiny thing start to grow. Ideally I don’t want to see any bump from your tiny pecker. You got that? I want a collar, ankle cuffs, and wrist cuffs. Buy about 10 meters of rope and some padlocks. Get lube. And I don’t know how you are going to do this but get something to clean you out. And see if they sell teeth guards; I felt some teeth when I was in your throat.

“At midnight, keep your door unlocked. Be wearing the collar and the cuffs. And get a good hood and wear it. Leather can be expensive. I’ll bump that up to €2000 in the envelope. If there’s money left, get me a flogger.

“You got all that?... Good boy.

“Where’s your phone? Here it is. Good an iPhone. Look up. Good it unlocked. Get back to the floor. I’m putting my side cell number in here. I am listing myself as ‘SIR’. I want you to text me when you buy each item. And have the store worker take pics of you being fitted for the cage and anything else they care to. And if they want to use you, you will let them.

“I’m going to add you to my find my iPhone app, so I can track where you are. So I know what text you are, what’s your area code or country code?... 215?... Philadelphia?... Oh boy. My firm has me in Philly one week a month and a weekend in between. I have an apartment near Rittenhouse square. You perform well here, and I will be taking you on permanently.

“Keep licking boy. Don’t get up until every drop is in your belly. I’ll see you tomorrow. I need to get back to my wife.”

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whispering-ways · 5 months

Text

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡ i like you (too much) - part 1 ♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

♡ summary: you just joined a new high school and you're hoping to make a bunch of new friends. unfortunately, you're paired up with katsuki and he seems to despise you. nevertheless, you're determined to make it work. little do you know that you're first interaction would lead to a wonderful friendship and possibly even more.

♡ pairing: bakugo katsuki x reader

♡ tags: no warnings, just fluff :) but the next couple of parts may or may not have some smut ;)

♡ notes: hi besties! I'm back finally with another fanfic after months. I'm so sorry for my hiatus, but I've been super busy with college. I'm graduating in literally in 5 days which is so exciting (neurosci and psychology BS) and also been working on a patent and been doing patient trials in the neurosci lab I volunteer at and been applying for grad programs, so its been a lot. but I'm back with a new (long) Katsuki fic now that things have finally settled! Really this was a story with my OCs, Drew and Kressie (names still yet to be confirmed but that's what I've got for now) but I thought this would still work with Bakugo. Let me know if y'all want me to post the OC version too :) hope you guys like it!

As you sit in the principal’s office with your parents, you start to drown out the principal’s monotonous voice. All you cared about in the moment was how you would fit in. Middle school had been terrible; a journey chocked full of bullies and spending lunches alone. So when your parents told you that the 3 of you were moving to a new state for your dad’s fancy new job, you thought this was your chance to wipe the slate clean. Start afresh and make some friends this time around. You’d been excited for weeks, but now sitting here about to start your first day, you felt your stomach churn with anxiety.

The principal calling your name brought you back to reality. “So Y/N are you ready to start your first day? I know it’ll be halfway through your periods, but still your first day if you think about it!”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you replied, picking up your backpack.

“I’ll take you to your new classroom,” said the principal, standing up and opening the door for you, gesturing you to follow him. After saying goodbye to your parents, you head outside the office with a big sigh, readying yourself. It felt like forever before you reached your classroom. Your principal knocked on the door and stuck his head inside. You heard him say something to the teacher inside, but couldn’t quite make out what. She came out a couple moments afterward and the principal left you in her hands. A short introduction later, she brought you inside to the front of the class.

“Hey everyone, I’m sorry to interrupt you all in the middle of quiet work time, but we’ve got a new student. This is (Y/N) and she’ll be in our class from now on,” she said with a big smile on her face; it was almost too cheery. “I’m hoping since you only came in a week late, it won’t be too hard to catch up with the class.” She scanned around the classroom before continuing, “Looks like we’ll have to place you in the back with Katsuki. We share one big desk between students, so I hope that’s okay with you.” You nod and the teacher turns towards her desk, reaching down to grab a packet. “Here’s what we’re working on right now; answer as best as you can and don’t worry about getting questions wrong. You’ll be sitting right over there,” pointing to the back.

You look toward where she gestured to find a guy in a black hoodie, his eyes covered by his hood and lip curled in disdain. “Fantastic,” you thought, taking the packet from your teacher’s hand. “It’d be my luck to be put right next to someone that looks like they’d kill.” You plop down in your seat and look towards your new deskmate, smiling at him as an olive branch. Maybe he was super nice and just didn’t know how to show it.

He looked at you up and down, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as if he was wondering why you’d even dare to look over. With a sigh, you turn back around and start to work on your packet. You wouldn’t consider yourself super smart, but definitely above average. But ‘above average’ wasn’t going to cut it for this packet. You chose to take Calculus to challenge you and to look better on college applications, but looking at the work in front of you, you regretted your decision. This stuff was just way too complicated, but you were determined to figure it out.

You look over at Katsuki to see whether he’s struggling too for some sort of comfort. To your disappointment, you see him flying through the work, his head practically buried in the packet. You tried again to work through the first problem. “Find the derivative of the following function...what even is a derivative?” you thought to yourself. You pulled out your phone, hoping to try and find some sort of video to explain what was going on when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

You turned around to find your teacher smiling at you once again. “Hey (Y/N), I hope the packet is going good, but in this classroom we don’t use phones to search up answers. If you’re having trouble, why don’t you ask your deskmate to help you out? I’m sure Katsuki would love to help you out!”

You slipped your phone back into your pocket, giving your teacher a tight-lipped smile in return. “Out of all people, why did I get paired with him,” you pleaded internally. After a few moments, you give up and decide to ask Katsuki for help. “Hey, uh... would you mind helping me out with this question please?” No response. You cleared your throat, hoping to draw attention to your request. Nothing, nada, zilch. It’s then that you noticed he had some earbuds in. “Maybe he really just couldn’t hear me,” you thought. A few moments of contemplation later lead you to tapping his shoulder, hoping to finally get his attention.

He whipped his head around, giving you the chance to get a good look at his face. The first thing you noticed were his eyes. His eyes were red, probably because of contacts, and were coupled with dark circles; it looked like he hadn’t had sleep in weeks. You were finally able to see his hair peeking out from under his hood which had been messily bleached blonde with brown roots growing out. His lips were still in a snarl. “What do you want?” he asked, spitting out each word with anger. “Don’t you know when people are trying to ignore you?”

A hit and a miss. There was no doubting it now; he definitely hated you. You hadn’t even been in the classroom for 20 minutes and your high school dreams of making friends were already coming crashing down. You were just about to reply when he snapped back at you “What? Just going to stare at me forever or something?”

See, you were nice, but not nice enough to let that sort of behavior go by without saying anything. “What the fuck is your problem dude? I just wanted to ask you about derivatives. Damn, a bitch can’t even be curious about math anymore,” you retorted. You were hoping to put him in his place a little, but instead, you heard him chuckle.

“Ok fine, I’ll help you out. I’ll admit, that was a little funny. But this doesn’t mean we’re all buddy buddy, okay? I just want you off my back.”

“Sure whatever gets me done with this packet,” you said, flipping through the pages of the problems till you found the one you were looking for. You pointed to the derivative question and said “Just explain this one to me and I’ll be out of your hair. I just don’t really know how to get started with it.”

With an annoyed sigh, Katsuki gets started on explaining it to you. “Okay so basically all you’ve got to do is just differentiate all 3 parts and then add it. Was that too hard for you to understand or something or did you finally get it?”

You didn’t want to say it, but you didn’t get it. What was differentiating? Subtracting? You had no clue. But you couldn’t admit that, not when he was acting so rude; you had way too much pride for that sort of confession. “Let’s say I didn’t get it. I totally did, but if I didn’t, would you be able to explain it more in depth?” you ask him, hoping he wouldn’t pick up on your lie.

Katsuki definitely picked it up. He wasn’t stupid. But he was dreading having to talk to you more. He wasn’t trying to make friends or talk to people and be all chit-chatty; all he wanted was to be left alone, but unfortunately, you didn’t seem to be picking up on that any time soon. He grabbed your sheet and put it right between you two. If you wanted a in-depth explanation, you were going to get one. Bit by bit, he explained every single step of the problem, dragging out each individual part unnecessarily. That’d teach you to bother him again.

What he did not expect was the beaming smile you gave him in return. “Thank you so much! That actually helped a ton dude! See I knew you could be nice,” you say as you bring the packet back to your side to continue working on the next couple of problems.

Your response threw him for a loop. Sure, Katsuki was confused over how he could seem nice, but what really had him was your smile. He could’ve sworn it was the sweetest smile he’d ever seen. Slightly crooked, but still shined like the sun. He turned around, pulling his hood down to cover the slight blush that had appeared on his face. He hated the feeling he had his stomach now and it was all your fault. He knew it was a bad idea to help you.

He dove into his work, trying not to focus on you. It felt like decades before the bell rang and people started packing up to move to their last period. Out of the corner of his eye, Katsuki saw you whip out a folded piece of paper, which opened up to reveal your schedule. He heard you sigh as he was packing up and he already knew what was coming. As soon as he came back up from zipping his backpack, he was met with your eyes looking at him and he knew you were about to bother him again.

“Uh... so I’ve got my next period in room 2301, but I have no idea how to get there. I think its English Lit with Ms. Carlisle, but like we only have 10 minutes to get there and I don’t want to get lost. Do you mind just giving me some quick directions?” you ask.

He wanted to say no and tell you to get lost. But it seemed like his mouth betrayed him when he heard himself saying “Yeah ok, I”ll take you there.”

“Oh! I mean you don’t have to really take me to the room, but I appreciate it a lot!” you reply cheerily with another one of your smiles.

“Do her cheeks never hurt from all that smiling?” Katsuki thought to himself. “It’s whatever, I’m in the same class too so I don’t give a shit.” he said, standing up and slinging his bag over one shoulder.

He starts walking away and you take that as a sign to start walking or be left alone in the classroom. With a wave to your teacher, you speed up to catch up to him. It was a bit awkward walking beside him but not talking. You’d initiate some sort of conversation, but it looked like he was ready to bite your head off and you already felt like you were pushing it.

Thankfully, Katsuki ended the awkward silence between you two, “So.... like, where did you move from?”

“From Florida, but not like city Florida, think like retirement home type of Florida. North Florida specifically.” you rambled, trying to fill up the silence between you for a bit longer.

“Cool, so you’ve like seen gators and shit then?” he said, looking down towards you. It was then that he took notice of the height difference between the two of you. He wasn’t super tall by any means, but compared to you he felt like a giant.

“I mean I’ve seen a couple snakes, gators... and a few lizards too! Nothing too scary though!” you say with a smile. He nodded in response and a silence settled over you two again. You started to rack your brain for something to say to keep the conversation going, when you suddenly felt a yank on your backpack.

“Don’t just fucking walk off, we’re here, English Lit,” Katsuki says, pulling you back to the front of the door after you’d walked right past it.

“Oh! Thank you” you reply, holding the door open. “After you.”

Katsuki felt weird walking into class and it had nothing to do with the quiz the class had to do today. He walked over to his usual desk and felt you follow behind before sitting down right next to him. You put your bag down in your seat and walked over to the teacher, probably to go introduce yourself. It was obvious to Katsuki that he wasn’t getting rid of you or the weird feeling you gave him every time you smiled anytime soon.

He was brought out of his thoughts by the sweetest laugh he had ever heard. He turned towards the source of the sound and he wasn’t surprised to see it came from you. It seemed like everything you did added to that weird feeling he felt in his stomach. He hated it. You sat back down next to him, syllabus in hand along with a couple of other forms for you to fill out.

Class seemed to drag on forever for Katsuki. It took everything in him to focus on what the teacher was saying rather than how your eyebrows were furrowed in concentration and how you chewed your pencil from time to time and how you drew tiny little flowers and hearts on your notes whenever you got bored. The bell finally rang, releasing Katsuki from what seemed to be his own personal hell. He got up wordlessly to walk towards his car, ready to leave and go home. He made it a couple of paces outside of class before he felt a small tap on his arm.

He turned around to see you looking up at him with big eyes. “Hey.. uhh.. Could I maybe get your number? We have to finish that packet by tomorrow’s class and I know there’s a good chance I could be confused again, so I was hoping to maybe get your help again?” you ask.

How could he refuse those eyes? With a sigh, he held his phone out to you. You looked up at him quizzically. “Do I need to explain everything to you? Put your number in already. I’ll text you back so you can have mine” he snapped.

You took his phone and typed in your number, saving your contact while you were at it. “There you go, all saved and everything,” you say. You couldn’t even fully finish your sentence before Katsuki snatched his phone out of your hands.

“Well, it was nice meeting you Katsuki, but I’ve got to head to the buses soon. I think my bus is leaving in like literally 10 minutes. It was nice meeting you though and hope to see you tomorrow,” you say, running off to catch the bus before you were left without a ride.

“Nice to meet you too, I guess,” he whispered to himself. He hoped you didn’t hear it. He walked to his car, throwing his bag into the backseat and putting his head on the steering wheel. “What’s going on with me? Why is everything so weird all of a sudden?” he thought. He took his phone out from his hoodie, looking for your contact and, more importantly, to put a name to your face.

It wasn’t hard to find since it was the only contact that stuck out like a sore thumb. “Y/N..” he said, reading out your name. He noticed a small smiley face beside your name, a sweet detail that caused an unconscious smile to cross his lips. It didn’t take him long to notice and he immediately shook his head trying to drive his smile away. He put his head back on the wheel with a thud, letting out a frustrated groan. That weird and uneasy feeling in his stomach had come back again and he had a feeling it wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

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tinycozycomfort · 1 year

Text

rest in the cup of my palms (part one)

pairing: no outbreak!joel miller x art student f!reader

chapter one: drawing from life

series masterlist | next chapter

series summary: you went back to school to find out who you are—to make another leap in the hope of self discovery. when you finally find that first glimpse of yourself, it’s in someone else. what happens when the mirror tries to pull you in? or you’re everything joel could’ve hoped to find. he doesn’t let go easily.

chapter summary: ellie volunteers joel to model for a drawing class on campus. you find someone worth dreaming about.

warnings/tags: no outbreak, no use of y/n, (for everything) -> mutual pining!, possessive behavior, smut (w individual tags to come), unnecessary descriptions of joel being beautiful, ellie is joel's daughter, ellie and reader attend the same university but reader is in post-grad, age gap (joel is late 40s, reader is not), alternating pov, slow-ish burn, joel miller wins girl dad of the century via unanimous vote (for this chapter) -> masturbation (f), intense feelings of loneliness, existential rumination

word count: 7.2k

rating: explicit (18+ only! mdni)

A/N: some good ol' work up, necessary to explain the rated r plans i have for them. ive been terrified of writing a series but i'm also tired of editing everything down to be one-shot appropriate, so today we try. im full-swing into my fixation era and on my 'i cant be loved + ive known how to love you for 1,000 lifetimes' bullshit. this fic is as self indulgent as they come, but i hope you can enjoy it! and for those of you willing to trudge through this with me, i love you.

read on ao3

“To photograph people is to violate them, by seeing them as they never see themselves, by having knowledge of them that they can never have; it turns people into objects that can be symbolically possessed.”

Susan Sontag - On Photography

───────

A halo of hot light falls through the pane of glass above the sink. Joel’s got one eye pinched semi-shut, trying hard to focus on not burning himself while he drains boiling water out of a pot of pasta.

When he woke up this morning, the blinds on every window in the house had been strung up to the lip. He’d barely gotten a hand around one of the strings in the glass frame above the couch before Ellie appeared out of nowhere to literally slap his wrist, ‘I’m drawing’. Still groggy, he tried to challenge her, ‘Do they all have to be open?’, to which she patiently explained—for what she probably feels is the millionth time—that she needed the extra light, and if she had them all open when she started, they’d need to stay that way until she was done.

So he left her to work, knowing she’s got midterms to finish, walking around with his eyes closed until he felt his way back into his bedroom. He came out once for coffee, and not again until dinner. This is their weekend.

Joel spoons out some of the food into bowls, leaving them to stay warm by the stove before he steps into the dining room. He stops himself half-way, hanging back in the archway to give his daughter another minute as the last shreds of strong sunlight start to wane out.

Ellie’s right where he left her: at the table, cross-legged in her chair with an eraser-less pencil held tightly in her fist. She’s hunched over a large pad of paper, the back of it lifted at an angle under a pile of old books and dog-eared tool catalogs. The sketchbook she uses as a reference guide is propped up on the corner of her left knee, leaned against the edge of the table. She rifles between two pages of it, eyeing some of the quick sketches—visual notes, as she puts it—that she took in class to help her navigate the larger, more detailed version with ease. Silent save for her short huffs of breath, she’s concentrated, wrist-corner lifted to not misplace any graphite. Her process is always the same; a little creature of habit.

She’s wearing her headphones, the cord winding dangerously low, threatening to dip into a cup of water she’d placed in the empty triangle between her lap—the same one he’d seen her with six hours ago. She hasn’t even touched it, still full nearly to the brim. He wonders if she’s gotten up at all. The girl works herself a bit too hard, he thinks, always falls head first into whatever project she’s working on, nothing if not like her dad. The corner of his mouth tugs up so tight it hurts. What is he going to do without her?

He just stands there, feet crossed on top of each other and arms in a twist over his chest, and watches her while she’s not looking, knowing she still gets shy sometimes when he catches her like this. She’s the sweetest reminder of everything good Joel’s ever done; another life he’d gladly offer his own for.

It’s always come naturally—to be what someone needs of him—in a way that transcends reward or expectation.

Joel had been his brother’s primary caregiver first, from birth and then well into their adulthood—always around to bail him out of jail or lend him money he didn’t have. Because he cared. Loved him. He couldn’t ever really say it, always had a problem with the wording, but he knew that at least some of what he wanted to explain had come across. He can see it in the way Tommy is with his own family.

His brother has Maria now, and the kids, and seeing how happy Tommy could be in spite of their upbringing was the first time Joel had ever put his priorities into question. Somewhere in all the caring-for he did, he’d forgotten about himself; the possibility of having his own wife and child and home. He’d always ached for that, deep down, but didn’t even know it was an option until he saw it happen. By that point, he wasn’t sure if he could do any of it, or if he even had the time to start. Then came Ellie.

She entered his life when a close friend of Tommy’s had died unexpectedly and no one came forward to claim her, unknowingly giving him a second chance; one he worked to make count. She was tough to crack at first—also like him in that way—but the love had always been there, waiting its turn after all the awkwardness and misunderstanding and adapting before finally showing its face. She’d needed him then, as much as his brother had all those years ago, carrying on the torch of purpose that Joel so feverishly searched for.

He rolls his eyes at himself; he’s been having too many misty-eyed moments about her lately. It’s so unserious, the actuality of it; of being her dad. Going to work and the supermarket and museums, being there to chaperone field-trips and take one-thousand mostly-blurry photos of her graduation. But it’s been everything to him. He’s desperately clung to the five years of her life that she’s shared with him, and he’s so proud to witness it, but he knows she’s getting to a point where she needs to be her own person. He’ll miss her when she’s only home for summers, then only home for Christmas, then only home once in a while—so he holds on to every bit, and tries not to think about what’s next for him.

He walks closer to her, tilting his head to try and steal a glance of what it is she’s working on. He catches a glimpse of the face of a woman, a portrait from shoulders-up. She’s pretty, with a soft and thoughtful expression, looking downward off the side of the pad. From what he could make out between the movements of Ellie’s hand, she even looks a little shy. His daughter rubs at the cheeks and nose of the girl on the paper, imitating the shadow-less areas where light would fall. Joel is mesmerized by the way she creates so effortlessly, like breathing.

Without moving her head, she pulls a tiny white bobble out from her ear, “I know you’re watching me, weirdo.”

Joel laughs, wet and thick in his mouth with the emotion he’s still climbing down from, “Is this how you treat me when I’m trying to feed you?”

She smiles, he can see the fat of her cheek rounding out even from this angle, “You should’ve just said that.”

Ellie leaves her set-up untouched, just getting up and moving down to an empty seat while Joel goes to bring the food out.

She shifts around in her seat, feet folded again on the flat of it, eating too fast—ill-mannered—and it reminds Joel of all the nights they spent at Tommy’s for family dinner, right at the beginning, back when they’d just begun to become close. When she’d push his patience with her behavior to see if he’d say something, to see if he still paid her mind—he always did, still does, “Jesus Christ, kid. Have I taught you nothing?”

She holds back a laugh, mouth full of tomato sauce, “You love it. I’m charming.”

He snorts, the two of them falling into a comfortable quiet for only a few minutes before she breaks it again, “Speaking of how much you love me, I need to ask you for a favor.”

“Oh no,” He jokes, “What now?”

“Remember those drawings I turned in of you last month?” She starts pushing around the last bite of her spaghetti, never a good sign, but he nods anyway for her to continue, “Well my teacher really liked them. And there’s been an issue with finding people to sit for the drawings. Sooo,” she really drags it out, “I signed you up.”

“What do you mean, you signed me up? For what?”

“To model,” Joel’s mouth pops open in an immediate attempt to oppose, but Ellie’s quicker, “Didn’t you say you’d always support me in school?”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” Joel finishes his plate and then they’re both just clinking their forks against porcelain for a heavy eightnineten seconds before she gives it another shot.

“C’mon, seriously. I’ll get extra credit if you do it,” She lets out a long sigh like she can’t believe she has to explain anything more than that, “My professor teaches a Monday session for the master’s program and they need people. It’s just one time.”

“Ellie. It’s Sunday. How are you gonna tell me this now?”

“Please, you just sit there for, like, two hours while they draw you and you don’t have to talk. That’s two of your favorite things. Three if you consider that you’d be helping me out.” she looks at him with a sticky-sweet smile, eyes crinkled—like she knows she’s getting away with it.

She might be.

“Why don’t you ask one of your friends to do it?” Joel gathers up their plates from the table to carry them into the kitchen. Ellie picks up their still half-full glasses as an excuse to follow him.

“Because we all have class together tomorrow on the other side of campus. Plus, you’re easy to draw and—”

“Hey.”

She ignores the flat look he shoots her, flipping on the sink, “That’s a compliment, by the way. But really, it’s no effort and you’d be getting me into a good place with my professor ‘cause she’ll be super grateful. The budget’s kinda tight this semester.”

“Then what am I payin’ for, if you’re gonna make me do this stuff myself?” It’s a half-hearted dig—he’s mostly annoyed because she probably already figured out he’s going to agree.

Her little smirk graduates to a shit-eating grin, she knows it, “Best dad ever.”

“You’re a pain in my ass, y’know that?”

“Just because I knew you were gonna say that, I actually signed you up for two.”

───────

Joel stumbles out of the elevator, filing hurriedly through groups of students with a new-found purpose now that he’s managed to make it to the correct floor. Ellie made a point of not mentioning that he had to be at the school at 7:30am until she was saying goodnight to him a few hours ago, because she thought it would dissuade him—she was right—so now he’s running late on top of everything else.

He’s got the little scaled-down, splotchy-printed version of the campus map gripped tightly between his hands. Room 14B is seemingly only two turns and one corner from where he stands—if he’s holding it the right way. He wants to ask for directions, but he feels too out-of-place to set aside his embarrassment. He’s older than at least half the staff, and some of the attendees are even younger, and he doesn’t want to run the risk of looking incapable, as foolish as it is. He wishes Ellie would have just offered to show him where to go before she headed off to her own class.

For someone who prides themselves on their ability to parent, he feels hopeless now without his daughter; not for the first time, but it’s especially harsh considering the circumstances. It hurts something bittersweet, to think about how much more they’ve bonded since he started working less and she decided to live at home her first year of college (though it’s coming to an end sooner than he’d like). Again, too many sad thoughts, and she’s not here, so he trudges on.

He walks in two more circles before he finds the right place—down a fucking hallway and hidden behind a door he didn’t know he was allowed to open, of course. A woman with long, dark blonde hair is sitting at a desk by the door when he enters. She doesn’t look up at him.

“Good morning, ma’am. Sorry I’m late. My—uh. You teach my daughter? I’m here for—”

“Ellie’s dad,” She cocks her head without meeting his eye, “Late? You’re about twenty minutes early, she told me you probably would be.”

She knows me too well, the brat. He chastises her in his mind but outwardly he corrects himself, “Yes, right, sorry. I’m a little turned around.”

“That’s alright. There’s just a waiver you need to sign, and you can get undressed in the bathroom down the hall. I’ll give you a cover-up to wear until I come to grab you.”

Right, he’d have to be naked. He already knew that—sort-of—having seen dozens of Ellie’s sketches from semesters past. He knows the students don’t see it that way, knows that they’ve all drawn the same things so many times they would be desensitized to his nudity. They’d probably all be desensitized to him as well; in their eyes, he was just a reference, as familiar as any of the memorialized piles of fruit or arrangements of glass that Ellie's also brought home.

Still, Joel feels a wash of anxiety come over him. He’s more than comfortable in his body, after putting it through so much, but this degree of vulnerability is severe in comparison to vanity or sex—it’s a state of living he hasn’t participated in for a long time. He doesn’t like to be seen, and being documented—having physical evidence of how he’s interpreted by others—makes his stomach turn. He hasn’t looked in a mirror for more than a moment in months, but it can’t be that bad, right? Ellie’s always given him a favorable light, but he worries she has a bias beyond belief. What if he sees something about himself he doesn’t like? What if everyone’s been able to see it all along?

Caught in his thoughts, he doesn’t realize the woman is still talking, “We have a scheduled break halfway through class. You can leave then. Next week it’ll flip and you can come for the latter half so they can finish.” She slides the form and a swath of black fabric across the table, and almost like she can sense his apprehension, finally raises her head to give him a meaningful look, “Thank you again for doing this. I know it can feel weird, but it makes a difference for them. There’ll be a joint show at the end of the month, too, with Ellie’s class.”

He just offers her a little nod of his head, thank you, signing the form and padding to the bathroom to unceremoniously disrobe in an empty stall.

It’s just two hours.

───────

If they make you take another figure-drawing class, you’re going to scream.

You’d think this far into a second degree, the school board would stop requiring you to take what is essentially the same class every semester. Sincerely, the only thing that changes is how long the session runs and what number follows the class title. It’s getting old.

To be fair, it’s not necessarily that you dislike drawing—it provides a pretty firm foundation for your personal work to stand on—it’s just tedious. Nothing is inspiring about assignment-based work, especially when they’ve decided the only way you can prove your skill-set is to make you draw the same three objects five-thousand ways.

But it’s not up to you.

So here you are again, two weeks from spring break, back in this frigid building after surviving another forty minutes of traffic, body still stiff from fighting the urge to fall asleep at the wheel.

It’s important, you remind yourself, to show up and put your fullest effort into everything, no matter how much you don’t enjoy it. Even if just to prove to yourself you can still finish things.

Coming back to school was an idea you’d toyed with for years after graduating.

There had been a lot of pressure on you to go in the first place, from your parents and your teachers and your nightmare of an ex, because according to them you’d get nowhere without it. After enough pressure and in a need to appease them, you folded and went; suffered every long night and pushed through every period of self-doubt and smiled for every ‘worth-capturing’ moment right up to the end. And then when it was over, gone faster than you could comprehend, you felt like something was taken away from you, even with how low it had made you—the worst kind of stockholm syndrome.

In an attempt to keep some momentum, you were over-eager for more right out of the gate. There was an initial need to continue, because you’d been reliant on academic structure just by the nature of familiarity, and maybe a little ill-prepared to face who you were without guidance. Without the instruction of someone with two degrees and a smoking addiction and no teaching license. Now it sounds silly, but then you spent a few too many nights uncontrollably looking into post-grad institutions or internship programs, googling professors and reading forums for first-hand accounts.

Then, after a year, the thought of continuing got a little less exciting, and you became comfortable in the freedom of nothing after being in school your whole life. So you pretended to research, emailed everyone about how great the options looked, signed up for one-on-ones you didn’t show up for—until people stopped asking.

It was at that point that you finally had the time to process what you were doing and why, and accepted that you didn’t have to have all the answers, despite what everyone had led you to believe. Truthfully, you still had no idea who you wanted to be and that’s okay—living with it and living alongside it weren’t mutually exclusive. You just took time to practice being yourself—sucked up the embarrassment and did the work, little exercises in unleashing yourself onto the world instead of letting every experience be done to you. If you were going to do anything anymore, even something like continuing your education, it had to be on your own terms, to try it all in the effort of self-discovery.

So yes, applying and getting accepted and attending every class—even this one—this time around was for you—to better yourself instead of just filling an expectation. You’re determined to make good on the opportunity.

And it has been better, so far. You even have friends this time around. Okay, two, and one of them is your roommate, but it's more of a support system than what you had going into undergrad.

You say yes now, too; not to everything, but to more than before. Which is maybe how you got roped into getting ‘introductory’ drinks later this evening with everyone, now that more people have joined the program as winter thaws out and it’s easier to commute. It’ll be nice to swap ideas and catch up and maybe even get laid instead of spending hours staring at the ceiling and willing time to pass. That thought alone is enough to keep you here.

It’s just two hours.

The room this semester is a little bigger, at least; probably the only perk that moving up so gracefully from Drawing II to Drawing III had earned you. It’s still unfortunately just another classroom; windowless to protect it from outside influence and drenched in fluorescent light to create a controlled environment. Old, stained art horses form a circle in the center of the space, crowding around a painted-gray wood pallet like an audience. A metal stool sits atop the make-shift stage, providing a seat for the subject. It’s clinical, the way the elements come together; a perfectly disarrayed scene that’s been neatly curated to emulate every ‘socratic seminar’ model you’ve seen in education since you can remember. Always the same.

You’re hoping for someone new today to rest on the chair; the department has been in less-than-preferred financial standing lately, so you’ve seen the same faces interchanged for most of the term.

Your professor is at her desk when you make your way in, greeting you with a grin despite the tired look on her face. A hardworking woman, the shadows under her eyes gave her a beauty you could only explain as determined. You knew she cross-taught for both sections of the department, and you respected her for it. It couldn’t be anything short of a struggle to toggle between those modes of seriousness—to have the patience to answer the younger students’ unending questions and the passion to keep the post-grads engaged.

Moving to get a seat as far on the outskirts of the cluster as possible, you watch as your classmates arrive slowly until all the slots are filled. No one really talks, probably all similarly bogged down by the early start and the cold weather outside. Ian, your friend who’d invited you out tonight, waves at you from four horses down and you halfheartedly nod back at him.

“Good morning everyone, we’ve only got two more classes after this until your week off, so we’ll make this next one a two-parter and have critique on the twenty-first. I want you guys to focus on composition more than anything else,” She turns in her seat to write some names on the board behind her, “We’ll go for two hours then break. If your name’s up here we’ll have a conversation about your thesis. The rest of you can go.”

Thankfully you’ve been spared this time—granted another seven-nights-straight writing the segment of your thesis that was meant to be finished two months ago. Your brain hurts inside of your skull.

You set up your little station, sketchpad raised against the easel, body straddling the drawing horse as you fiddle with some dirty erasers in your pack.

You can hear the slap slap slap of the model’s feet on the concrete floor as they enter—a long gait paired with hard, thudding steps; probably a man by the sound of it. Tall and heavy.

“Okay guys, we’re starting,” She winds up the dial on a plastic kitchen timer and sets it on the edge of her desk, “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be making a few passes throughout and we’ll exchange thoughts.”

You roll your neck, knowing the model tends to take a minute to find a comfortable position, and that people watching didn’t do anything to help. A tempered soundtrack—the poorly contained buzzing of the clock and the moan of the air-conditioning—plays on in the background. Your leg is asleep. It’s cold in here. You count to thirty in your head. That’s enough time, right? You shift again, stretching your arms once more just in case.

Looking up, you peer over the side of the easel to get a quick look at the model’s pose and immediately do a double take.

It is a man.

He’s sitting on the chair, facing the girl a few seats down from you so that you can only see him from a three-quarters view. He has one long, thick leg pushed against the lower bar of the stool, the other one, closest to you, hiked up on the seat, folded so that his knee points towards the ceiling. His arms are crossed, hugging his erect shin with his wide back wrapped over his thigh, effectively shielding the ‘naked’ parts of him from view. He looks shy, but not uncomfortable; either like he’s done this before or he’s accustomed to protecting himself—to hiding.

The frame of his body is captivating; he looks strong but used, little nicks and scars littering his shoulders and hands. Weathered. As you make your way up his torso, you find it’s a similar state of experienced, tan profile and neck bearing the slightest difference in color from the soft of his side, and you can see the faintest curve of a hem-shaped tan-line across the dip in his shoulder. Little wisps of gray-dusted brown curls frame the edges of his face. He’s beautiful in a gentle way, with a dark, heavy brow that leads into the sharp slope of his nose, plush lips pursed like he’s concentrating.

Part of you feels bad about staring, but it’s easy enough to disguise it as working, so you map him with your gaze again and again until you can still see him when you blink. It takes the constant movement of your classmate’s hand sketching something in your periphery to remember you’re being timed.

You choke out a cough, repositioning your body and grabbing some charcoal.

The way you usually approach this task is simple: get down the general gist of the body, careful to keep out the details of the person in favor of capturing light and weight—there’s a graded challenge to be considered, after all.

Yet as you watch him, you decide you can fulfill the requirements in a way that gives him more room to exist. You crop the drawing tighter, paying careful attention to the landscape of his face; the hills of his cheekbones and the valley between his lips. You want to immortalize him.

You’re suddenly deeply concerned with the history that’s woven itself into the shape of him, in what happened to make him look this way. It seems like life has been useful to him, but that he’d had to grow from something to make it so—like he had to work for it. He’s the living manifestation of his own grief and enjoyment and passion, and you want to know all of it.

Countless minutes pass as you take him in and spill him out, fingers moving quickly to recreate the weighted feeling of his posture, exhausted and heavy, muscles held together on the string of bone that runs through the center of his back. You write him down, again and again, flipping to a new page half-way through to get in one last version of him—one for yourself.

You’ve never seen him before, but you see part of yourself in him. He mirrors the anxious peace you’ve been operating under for the last few years, humming with energy but willfully stagnant. It makes you feel seen, less burdened by your recent inability to connect—he makes you want to keep trying.

You wonder if he writes or draws or makes, and if he’d show you. You want to hear him talk. You want to see the other side of him, literally and metaphorically. You want to feel—

The tinny ring of the alarm sounds off, and you’re taken out of the fantasy.

The second drawing is only really half done, but you didn’t make it with the intention of sharing it anyway, so you flip back to the original to hide it..

You try not to watch the man when he stands—remembering that just because he’d been hidden before doesn't mean he wasn't naked the entire time—maybe more for your sake than his. You peek around the room instead, taking a healthy, albeit competitive, glance around for other interpretations of the man; did they see him too, the way you do?

When you look up to take a comparative look, he’s gone. You’re a little disappointed, admittedly, but there’s still one more chance to interact with him, and you can make up for it then. You start to pack up your things in an effort to make it to the parking lot before the crowd. A sudden rise in the volume level in the room tells you that the shock of the early morning has started to burn off. You try to tune it out, so much so that you don’t hear someone walking up behind you.

“Wow.” It’s a man’s voice, deep and smooth. You pivot in your seat.

It’s him, in all his communal-robe wearing glory, even more gorgeous from head on. It’s a pleasant surprise, this reveal; his beauty is evenly distributed, like a handwritten note that extends into the margins or when a movie’s ending is just as good as the start.

“Oh. Hi. Thank you.” You feel exposed, like you got caught doing something bad, even though there are ten other people in the room with even more detailed portraits of him.

“Can I see the other one, too?”

“What?”

“You flipped your page. I didn’t see anyone else do that. Did you make two?”

You just nod, shocked that he was watching you back, peeling back the paper to reveal to him the unfinished drawing. He won’t question it if you don’t give him a reason to.

“Are you gonna finish it?” He asks, eyes rolling over it with an intense curiosity.

“Uh, probably not. I don’t like it as much as the first one.” Maybe lying your way through this would provide better reasoning than ‘I wanted a part of you that no one else could see’.

“Can I have it?”

When you can’t find something to say fast enough, he just continues.

“I’m sorry, is that rude? If you’re just gonna get rid of it, I’ll take it. It just… looks like me. I mean they all do, I’ve been told I have a ‘simple face’,” He coughs awkwardly in acknowledgement of his own tangent, “I just mean to say that it feels a lot like me. If that makes sense.”

“You’re actually very visually interesting.” Is the first thing you can think of, and fuck, did that come out really fucking wrong, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Maybe it’s better if he takes it, if it’ll stop you from fumbling, “But yeah, you can have it.” You pull a little plastic mail-tube out of your bag, ripping the drawing free from its perforated tether and rolling it in on itself.

The edges of his mouth pull up, a cute little thing, free of laughter or judgement, “Thank you. I’m Joel.” One of his hands drapes across his stomach, palm spread over the knot of the wrap—he’s holding himself at length again. Why?

“Hi Joel. You seem to know a fair amount about this whole thing. Not your first time, then?” You offer him your name in return, and he parrots it back—guard still up, still standing too far away.

“It is, actually. The closest I’ve come to this is sitting in the yard for my daughter,” He watches as you slide the drawing into the cylindrical case, “You’re very talented.”

“Thank you.” It feels weird to hear the praise twice, “How’d they get you to pose for no money? I heard the department’s a little strapped. I’ve been subbing in for the undergrads too when I can.”

“My daughter volunteered me, she’s on the other side of the program. Your teacher was giving out extra credit.” He takes the roll when you pass it to him, going out of his way to grab it from the middle, his thumb grazing yours. Your skin heats up where he’s touched it, and you look down at the floor, suddenly nervous.

“Wow, this is the first time I’m hearing anything about that.” You continue to pack away items into your bag, “I’m owed quite a lot if that’s true.”

His face falls in on itself in a wince, “Oh. Didn’t mean to do her in like that.” You can feel him looking at you for a few beats too long, and his eyes narrow like he’s about to say more.

In the same moment, as if summoned, your professor turns on her heel, walking over to your bench.

“It’s okay. I’ll be okay without it. I’ll see you next week, right?”

He shakes a little, releasing his stare, and throws a thumbs up in your direction with his protective hand, “Yeah, see ya next week. Nice to meet you.”

───────

After another four-hour class and a too-long nap and a break for dinner, everyone from this morning joins together in a few cars to head to a bar downtown. You meet up with Ian, who offered to drive as a bargaining chip, because he knows by now that you’d back out if you had to show up on your own.

The bar is dark and divey and perfect for being overly-observant in secret. You’ve warmed up to this crowd enough, but you’re still on plus-one basis with a lot of them, Ian serving as your invitation. You like to just listen to them at first during these outings, strategically planning your involvement so you don’t feel put on the spot when they give you a turn.

It’s a lot like being in class; the group of you occupying a dimly lit corner, a round-table of bodies, with the person in the center alternating as the topic changes. Tonight you stay at the furthest end.

You cling to the single tequila soda you ordered, watery and flat by now with pea-sized ice chips bobbing around in the center to avoid the heat of your fingers. You watch them swim, tipping your cup to see them swirl in a frenzied circle until they disappear.

Some guy from your English class—Andre or Andrew or who cares—is talking at you, making his best attempt at what you think is supposed to be flirting. It’s really just him asking your opinions on his five favorite books, not hiding his disapproval when you mention you haven’t read one or the other.

You watch Ian, who left you twenty minutes ago in search of the bar-top for another drink. He’s caught now on his third conversation on the way back, maybe thinking he’s doing you a favor by taking his time. You try relentlessly to catch his eye instead, and he bounds over without question when he sees you. The glass of wine in his hand is already half empty, and the English-class-guy spooks at the sight of what he probably thinks is competition. So much for that.

“Having fun?” he prods when he slips in the chair beside you, already aware that you are absolutely very much not having fun.

Ian’s a nice guy, and he means well. You met him a week into your first semester—almost a year ago now—at orientation, because your last names were the beginning and end of the line of their respective letters. He was from somewhere in Canada, studying photography with a minor in painting and drawing. He’s maybe a year or two older than you, though you’ve never asked to confirm; tall and long and pretty, for lack of a better word, with big eyes and a permanent split in the little bangs that cover his forehead. He’s the first man in years you’ve been comfortable around, never initiating anything or pushing too hard for your friendship. All in all, no one’s been as welcoming to you, except the person you literally live with, and you’re happy to let him drag you out if it means he’ll continue to look after you the way he does.

“Of course, when have you ever known me to have a bad time?”

“No luck with Adrian?” Adrian. You were close.

“Just likes to hear himself talk, I think. I wasn’t interested in being an audience.”

He hums, “Someone else on your mind?”

“Like who?” You lean the lip of your cup against your mouth.

“Saw you making eyes at the model today,” He teases, nudging you in your rib when you take a sip of your drink so that you keel over slightly. You sputter, unamused with the tactic to get you to fess up.

Was it that obvious?

“Isn’t that the point of the class?”

“Yeah maybe, smartass, but that’s not what I meant. I saw him talking to you, saw you give him a little gift,” He bobs his eyebrows at you suggestively, “Excited for him to come back next week?”

“So I can stare more, you mean?”

“So you can get his number.”

“Ian.”

“I’m just saying you should try and find someone outside our section of the building. No writers, either, obviously.” He gestures to where Adrian is already trying his shtick on some girl from your class.

“He’s a little too old for me, don’t you think? His daughter goes here.” You muse. He’s mostly right about you needing to expand your reach, but you won’t let him off that easily.

“Maybe. But if you don’t care, and he doesn’t care, what’s it matter? He’s not too old to fuck you.” He makes a face and you roll your eyes.

The thought is nice, but you know forging relationships is unlikely when you’re concerned, at least as of late, “I don’t want to spend my night talking about people I’m not going to fuck.”

“Whatever you say.” He slinks out from his seat, mumbling something about a glass of water. A few steps away, he looks back over his shoulder, “You’re not doomed, by the way,” the asshole can read your mind, “You can enjoy yourself without feeling guilty. You’re allowed to like people.”

And then you’re alone again.

It’s like that for another hour, small attempts at chatter and meetings until you realize you’re too tired to fuck anyone, let alone continue to sit upright. Being up so early this morning took more of a toll than an hour nap could fix, and you're begging Ian to take you home. He agrees, spending the trip trying to plan another outing later in the week before everyone’s gone on vacation.

You give him a sleepy goodbye when he pulls into your apartment complex, making sure he’s still going to class tomorrow before letting him drive away. Once you’re inside, slipping quietly in through the front door, you realize your roommate isn’t home. She’s probably still in a late class or at her boyfriend’s or somewhere else. You enjoy the quiet enough to not think about it too hard.

The five sips of tequila-mostly-water has settled into your stomach by now, making you a quarter-second slower when you strip all your clothes off and climb into bed.

You twist under the sheets, and after a while your skin starts to feel too hot, even in the cold air of your room. Breathing deep, you try to think of something boring to get your mind to still, but when you sense the sleep about to take over, it switches.

You see his face behind your eyelids, the man from today, strong and pretty and delicate, remembering all your favorite details—the length of his fingers and the depth of his voice. You curse yourself for assigning this importance to him. He’s just another page in your portfolio, if you even keep him, yet you can feel a slow heat bubble up at your core when you remember the stretch of his body under the robe. It’s okay to be taken with him, you think, he’s objectively gorgeous.

Your conversation with Ian replays in your head—less about his sincere advice and more about how you need to get laid. It’s been too long; maybe you are just horny, and maybe taking care of it just this once could be enough to stop this hollow interest from growing.

You reach a hand down under your blanket, the tips of your digits pushing into the slit of your cunt. You’re wet, arousal tacky and pooled so much that the light pressure you meant to be exploring with is enough to have you accidentally slipping inside. Okay, he’s really hot. So what? Was it really that bad if you thought so?

You dip a finger further in, timid at first; you’re used to keeping quiet for this kind of activity, and even though your roommate was gone when you got here, it doesn’t mean she hadn’t come in in the thirty minutes of rolling around you’d done before giving into your desire. You lay your free hand over your mouth just in case, teeth biting into the meat at the base of your thumb to keep yourself quiet.

You slide in a second finger to the knuckle to join the first, the light stretch of it enough to make you pant. You see him again, hard and soft and beautiful. You think about what his skin would taste like, if he’d let you sink your teeth into the sinew of his neck. It feels weird to know what he looks like without his clothes, and you’re weirdly proud of yourself for holding back from seeing him fully; it's easier to dream about that way. You wonder how he’d present himself to you, how he’d want to fuck you. You imagine him winding a hand around the hinge of your jaw, fingers pressing hard into the soft of your cheeks. Would he be gentle? Would he make it hurt? You suspect either would be too much. You feverishly palm your clit, hips canting in an effort to climax. The pictures flash faster—his cock in your mouth, his tongue in your cunt, the way he’d spit and grip and hold—and you’re coming, drooling over your hand as you hear him say your name in your mind.

You take your hand away after a minute, breath pushing out heavily from your nose. It’s fine, you needed to do it, just one time. No shame in that. It’s out of your system now.

And if you see his face one more time before you fall asleep, it’s probably an afterthought.

───────

By the end of the week, you come to a horrible conclusion.

It starts the next morning when you take your sketchbook out, itching to get a handle on the many writing assignments you’ve been dutifully ignoring, hoping for an outline or a free-flow of ideas. Nothing comes to mind. You draw a little bit to fill the space while you think, just a mess of material on the page, strokes of your hand that leave barely anything behind.

Then on Wednesday you’re at your laptop, typing with one hand while the other one slides against the wood of the dining table, down and around in a loop, mimicking the same shape each time.

And again last night in the shower, letting the shame of a different semi-failed night-out wash over and off of you. You slosh your foot around in the water in the basin below, catching it as it runs down and pools, ankle dragging in a tiny, controlled movement.

It’s not until now that you put it together.

You’re sitting at your desk, with creative materials at your disposal this time, trying to make sense of what it is you’re forming. You find that no matter the medium, your hand automatically makes a single hard line. The same line, from memory. It’s negligible at first, just a light press of pen or pencil or crayon, until it drags down, down, down. It’s not until you lift your utensil that you recognize it. The hook of a nose and the crest of a top lip.

A hard pit forms in your stomach, blood draining from your head to gather in the center of your chest, a blooming sickness of obsession you haven’t felt in a long time. You’re drawing him. You’ve been drawing him. You know this feeling, have participated in this kind of behavior. These are the actions that cause the humiliating dregs of attraction to bleed over into fixation—juvenile and universal and unavoidable. He’s going to be a problem.

#joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal characters #joel miller fic #joel miller/reader

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wakandas-vibranium · 1 year

Text

Wednesday Nights || Part One

Pairing: Pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, smutty smut, phone sex, dirty talk, teasing, swearing, sex work

Word count: 3.5k

Summary: As a single parent of an active kid Joel’s funds were tight, so he needed to find a quick way to make more income and surprisingly, you could make good money being a phone sex operator.

A/N: I kept daydreaming about Joel being a PSO. When I went to search for related fics I couldn’t find any so I wrote one :) Please like, comment and reblog!

part two

part three

part four

part five

Your nerves deteriorated with each passing minute. It was almost ten o'clock. On most days, the time didn't matter, but today was Wednesday. Wednesday nights were highly essential for you.

For the past five months, you've been making late-night phone calls to talk to a specific phone sex operator named Jay. You had a sneaking suspicion that "Jay" wasn't actually his name, but you didn’t let that bother you. You understood that the operators were obligated to follow certain procedures for their own safety.

Except for the few small truths he told you, Jay's personal life was a vast mystery to you. All you gathered about him from your extensive conversations was that he was a man in his early thirties from the southern parts of the United States who enjoyed a good cup of coffee before starting his day. He never specified where in the south he grew up, but the Texan drawl sounded too genuine to be artificial.

On Wednesdays, Jay only worked until 11 o'clock, so the two of you came to the conclusion fairly early on that you should dial in a little after 10 in order to ensure that you were his final call of the day.

You managed to calm your nerves by doing a little dance. You twirled in circles until you found yourself standing in front of your full-length mirror that was intentionally placed in front of your bed. You stopped dancing and stood there, appreciating your half-naked figure in the mirror as you waited for the clock to strike 10:03.

You weren't sure why you always ended up so nervous around this time of the week. You'd been doing this for a while now, but it was just something about Jay that turned you into the shyest little thing.

You looked downright delicious in your baby blue lingerie. You brought it this afternoon along with a new toy. It wasn't like Jay could see it, but your imagination ran wild. Your breasts sat flawlessly in the laced blue bra. You looked like a fucking snack.

If only you could meet Jay in person, you thought, sighing in disappointment. You eyed the clock and shook the negative thoughts from your head before you ended up in a funk. It was time to dial in.

You were already drained from the week's stressors, and there were still two more days to go. You were in your last year of graduate school and utterly stumped on your thesis. You were sick of doing research, reading, typing, crying, and everything else that came with being a grad student. At this point, all you wanted to do was talk to Jay for as long as you possibly could and get off.

You called in, waiting for the main operator to ask you who you wanted to be transferred to. She answered in her usual upbeat voice. You answered her question and before you knew it the line was being transferred to Jay. You held your breath on every ring, as you always did, until Jay picked up. Unexpectedly, a memory of your very first call came flooding back.

9:58pm five months ago

Valentine’s Day

Ring. Ring. Click.

“Decompress until there’s a mess,” a cheerful woman said as she answered your call and you fought back a cackle at that ridiculous ass slogan. “Who would you like to speak to tonight?”

“Umm…this is my first time calling, so I’m not really sure.” you admitted.

“That’s alright, sugar,” the woman assured softly. “Let’s start with the simple stuff. Do you have a preference for gender or ethnicity?”

“Umm, well, ethnicity doesn’t matter, but I’d like to speak with a man.”

“Okay. We’re getting somewhere. What kind of man?”

“Someone with an accent.”

“What kind of accent? We have ‘em all here, sugar.”

The constant use of the pet name actually eased your nerves. Your shyness was depleting while your confidence was rising.

“A southern accent?”

You had a slight accent kink since you could remember. You appreciated all accents, but there was something extra sweet about southern men and the way they could hold a conversation. Maybe it was because you grew up in the south too.

“Louisiana?” The operator asked as she typed away at her computer. By the sound of her taps, her nails must have been quite long. You bet they looked as pretty as she sounded.

“More of a Texan accent please.” You insisted, nibbling your bottom lip as you waited for her to find someone.

“That’ll be Jay then.”

“It looks like he’s finishing up another call,” she informed. “Do you mind waiting on hold for a few minutes before I transfer you?”

“No, I don’t mind. Thank you.”

“Okay. Placing you on hold now.”

You were on hold for maybe forty five seconds. The wait music stopped abruptly and the line rang four times before a sultry voice spoke. “Hello, darlin’.”

And fuuuuuuuck.

The sultry twang of his voice sounded like toe curling, earth shattering, raw sex.

You went to say hello, but for some reason you forgot how your mouth worked. You palmed your forehead, wincing.

How embarrassing.

“Hello?” he said, tone shifting slightly.

“Hi.” you finally whispered, palms somewhat shaking. You never did anything like this. Thank god he couldn’t see how much of a nervous wreck you were. You weren’t a virgin, but you didn’t have that many sexual experiences. There was plenty left for you to learn.

“Sorry,” you continued, swallowing the lump in your throat. “This is my first time doing something like this and I’m a little nervous.” you admitted, shifting in the computer chair, spreading your legs.

“I understand. We can take it slow, okay?”

“Okay.” you nodded as if he could fucking see you.

“My name is Jay. What’s your name?”

“Y/N.” you blurted, without thinking. Were you supposed to give him a fake name?

He chuckled softly, “That your real name, darlin’?”

“Yeah,” you sighed deeply. “It is actually.”

“Well, Y/N is such a pretty name.” He complimented.

“Thank you.” you smiled, shoulders relaxing as you began to twirl in your chair.

“How old are you?” Jay asked.

“I’ll be 28 next month,” you revealed, slipping into a more seductive voice now that your nerves were further away, “How old are you?”

“I’ll be 31 later in September.”

“Ah, so you’re a Libra man?” you teased. You weren’t super into astrology, but you knew the basics and looked at compatibility charts every now and then.

“Am I now?” he laughed.

“You are and I’m an Aries. Apparently we’re very compatible.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah.”

“You believe that?” He retorted.

“Sort of.” you mumbled, half shrugging.

“I think we’ll find out in a lil’ bit.” Jay purred. You pulled the phone away from your ear as you shivered in anticipation. You were already wet for him.

Goddamn. He already had you hooked

“Evenin’ darlin’,” Jay answered warmly on the third ring.

“Hi,” you responded, beaming up at yourself in the mirror. Jeez all it took was a simple greeting from Jay to have you smiling from ear to ear. “How has your day been?”

“It’s been alright. Even better now though.” He said, already flirting.

“I’m wearin’ the blue lace lingerie we looked at last week.” You blurted, getting straight to the point. You usually talked about regular things, but you were pent up and needed him to do what he was perfect at and make you a soaking wet mess.

“Ohh,” he exhaled sharply, “I wish I could watch you model it for me, Y/N.” He was always so good and going with the flow. He always made sure to give you what you needed. After all, that was what you were paying him for. It was left unspoken that you both forgot that this was a transaction a few months ago.

“I bought a toy, too.”

“What kind?” He perked up, even more interested.

“You got your laptop open?”

“Mmhmm.” he replied.

“Go to www.lovegasm.com.”

You listened to the pad of his fingers fall against the laptop keys as he followed your instructions. You ignored the fact that you were lowkey jealous of the keyboard that got to feel how his fingers felt against them.

“Okay. I’m there.”

“Click on the drop-down in the left hand corner.”

“Okay.”

“Then click on ‘for women’ then select ‘dildos’.” you instructed, you slid off your shawl, moving over to the edge of the bed to give him and the page a few extra seconds to load before asking, “You there?”

“Yep. Which one am I looking for?”

“Right column. Sixth one down.”

“I see,” he said, humming in excitement.

“Look familiar?” You asked, giggling softly as you laid back on your bed, spreading your thighs.

“A bit.” he admitted, unable to hide the smile in his voice. You could hear it clear as day. It was another small thing you looked forward to.

“I can’t wait to feel yo—it inside me, Jay.” you caught yourself, but it was too late. He’d already heard you and his cock twitched in response.

“No, you were right the first time, baby.” he said, kind of muffled, grunting softly as he raised his arms, removing his shirt and unbuckling his belt.

“I’m a bit thicker towards the top so we’re gonna have to finger you open, so that I can slide in perfectly.”

“Okay. Do you want me to take off my panties?”

“No,” he said, inhaling sharply. “Pull them to the side and rub your clit for me.”

You obeyed, pulling your panties to the side and slowly rubbed your clit with your middle finger, sighing softly.

“How wet are you?”

“Honestly,” you breathed deeply, running a finger down your slick slit. “I’ve been wet for you all day, Jay.” He groaned deeply at your admission, thick cock swelling in his pants.

“You’re gonna cum twice for me tonight, Y/N. First on my fingers, then on my cock.”

Your mouth fell open in a silent gasp. He knew you loved when he talked to you that way. It helped you get off even more.

“Got it?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Repeat it.” he demanded, growling softly in your ear. You stopped breathing for a second. Completely turned on by the rough tone he was taking with you.

God he knew what you liked so well.

“I’m cummin’ twice tonight. On your fingers, then on your cock.” You repeated, voice deep with arousal. You whimpered softly, rubbing faster as you felt that coil deep in your belly loosen a smidge. You were getting closer to the edge.

“Good girl.” he praised, making you sigh deeply and even more of a puddle.

“Slide a finger inside you,” he instructed, “Slow pumps.”

You obeyed, pushing in your middle finger, massaging your folds gradually. Although the motion was effective, it wasn’t sufficient. It didn't push you very far at all. You needed more.

“Can I add another finger, baby?” You asked, moaning louder as you rubbed your clit in wide slow circles, getting wetter by the second.

“Go ahead,” said Jay, granting you permission.

You added another finger, pumping faster. Now you were getting somewhere.

“Jay,” you moaned softly, grinding down on your fingers as you sped up just a little.

“I love the way you moan for me.” he praised, grunting softly as he popped the button open on his jeans and unzipped them. The faint sound of his zipper being pulled down made your nipples harden almost painfully.

“Shit Jay, I wish these were your fingers.” you admitted, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, shyness long gone. You closed your eyes, picturing Jay’s fingers inside of you, while his free hand held pressure on your lower stomach. You listened to him pull his jeans down some.

“I know baby,” he groaned, palming his hard cock through his boxers, “So do I.”

“Keep rubbin’ your clit for me,” like the good and dutiful girl you were, you obeyed, rubbing your bundle of nerves in tight, fast circles. Your other fingers were busy pumping in and out of your tight hole.

It was weird at this angle, but you added a third finger and curled them up. Your thighs trembled as you fingered and rubbed yourself harder. Jay could hear how soaked you were for him and pulled his cock out, thumbing the bead of precum before stroking it lazily. You were always so wet for him and he oh so badly craved to taste it.

He inhaled sharply before letting a single command fall past his lips, “Cum.”

“Fuuuuck!” you moaned loudly as you came, body jerking against the bed as you worked yourself slower.

“That’s it, baby,” Jay purred lowly, talking you through a well anticipated orgasm. “Let it out for me.” You were gonna have to change your sheets, but you couldn’t care less at the moment. You were sex crazed.

One down. One more to go.

Jay’s hand locked down painfully on his cock, stopping himself from almost cumming. “Now grab my cock and put it in your mouth.” Jay said, taking a steadying, deep breath. The sounds you made when you came always got to him. The sinful whimpers and desperate grunts you let out damn near made him go feral with lust.

You palmed the silicone cock and brought it to your lips, licking up the veiny shaft before taking it into your mouth.

“Suck it, baby. Let me hear it.” He cupped his dick loosely, starting back up with slow strokes. He had to be careful.

You sucked the head while simultaneously pulling on the base, making the tip tug at your plump lips.

“Mmhmm,” he moaned, encouraging you to take him deeper. You tilted your head to get a better angle and took the fake cock as deep as you could, bobbing your head up and down, moaning loudly. When you choked, Jay growled. “Fuuuck, baby! You take me so well.”

“You’re so wet for me, baby,” Jay said, panting sharply, “I can hear it. Go ahead and push me in. I know that I’ll fit easily.”

“Goddamnit Jay,” you cursed, letting the dildo fall from your stretched lips with a loud pop, slapping your inner thigh hard enough to leave it aching in the morning.

“What?” He asked, snickering softly because he already knew the answer.

“You just always know what to say.” you praised, gasping softly as you pushed the cock inside you, all the way to the hilt. He was right. It stretched you, but you were so wet it didn’t even pinch.

You pushed the silicone cock inside you deep and fast. It felt so fucking good. You paused your moans so you could hear Jay. You wanted to match his strokes. Once he realized what you were doing he sped up.

“Yeah, that’s it, babygirl,” he praised, groans growing louder, “Fuck yourself just like that. Don’t stop.”

“Shit, I’m gonna cum,” you warned, pumping yourself even harder.

“Did I tell you that you could cum?” The harshness of his voice made you open your eyes and slow your movements just a tad.

“Jay p—please, baby,” you moaned louder, begging him to let you cum. He loved teasing you and you loved that he loved it.

“Please what, darlin’?” said Jay, amusement heavy in his tone. He knew exactly what you wanted. Needed. He was gonna give it to you, but you had to ask first. You had to beg for it.

“Cum with me this time,” you coaxed, whole body shuddering just from hearing the downright filthy noise Jay just made.

“Okay, babygirl,” he groaned lowly, breaths quickening as he pumped his cock nice and fast. “Whatever you want.”

“I want you to cum with me,” you begged, head thrashing wildly against the pillows as the tip of the dildo brushed up against that sweet spot deep inside of you. “I want to hear your moans mix with mine when we cum.”

You sobbed as you started back rubbing your clit. The tight circling of your finger combined with the rapid thrusts from the dildo gave you a window of 30 seconds before you were cumming your brains out.

“That’s it, baby,” Jay snarled, hips jerking wildly up into his fist as he stroked his cock even faster. “Be a good girl and cum with me.”

You came with a loud cry as your climax tore through you, back arching all the way off the mattress in sheer pleasure. Jay followed right behind you, cursing and whimpering as white ropes of cum landed on his belly and chest. You both panted harshly, together over the line as you recovered slowly from your intense orgasms.

“I think that was our best one yet.” he laughed warmly as he pulled a few tissues from the square box on his workstation to clean himself up.

“Hell yeah it was,” you agreed, cheering weakly. Your arms were sore as hell and your legs still shook, but you felt amazing. You were on cloud nine, fully satiated.

“Have a good night, darlin’,” Jay cooed, sleepily. “And good luck with your thesis.”

“Thanks. Night Jay.” You giggled softly, disconnecting the call, rolling over onto your side before drifting off to sleep.

The next few days were a breeze. You were in an advantageous mood thanks to Jay, and so you added four more pages to your thesis. You only had six pages left.

On Saturday morning you woke up earlier than usual and decided to get dressed and head to your favorite coffee shop. The cafe was only a couple blocks away from your apartment so you walked there. You loved early morning strolls. The gentle wind dancing across your soft skin as the sun began to peak always made you feel alive.

You left the cafe after the barista handed you your Assam Black tea and breakfast sandwich, while typing a text to one of your lab partners. You took a few steps without looking and collided with someone, dropping both your sandwich and your phone. Luckily, the grip you had on your tea did not falter.

You both apologized at the same time.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, sir. I wasn’t even lookin' in front of me.”

“My apologies, darlin’.' ' the man said, bending down to pick up your squished sandwich and unscratched cell phone.

That voice.

That voice you knew all too well.

Especially on Wednesday nights.

A cold chill ran across your neck and down your back, “Jay?” you squeaked loudly, staring at him in disbelief as he stood back up with your items in his hands. He stretched out his hands to give them back to you only to stop short, eyes widening in utter shock when he realized what you had called him.

The corner of his mouth turned up as he grinned briefly. It didn’t quite match his eyes at all. “Y/N, I take it?”

“Yes,” you nodded, giving him a small smile. “Hi, Jay.”

“Hi.” he said, eyes blinking slowly as he stood there flabbergasted, still holding your belongings in his hands.

“Nice to meet you.” you continued, extending your hand out for him to shake.

He shifted your sandwich and phone to his left hand, grabbed your hand with his now-free hand, and shook it twice. “Nice to meet you, too Y/N.” he said, shooting you a toothy grin. God, his smile was to die for. He sank his teeth into his bottom lip as he checked you out, admiring the view. During your phone calls, he, too, fantasized about what you looked like. He was not disappointed.

His palm enveloped yours. Damn his hands were large, you thought, gawking at him unapologetically. They were warm and had a few callouses. He must have used his hands a great deal for his other job. He never mentioned what he did for work.

You hoped that bumping into him wouldn't ruin your Wednesday night dalliances. Maybe he'd be okay with talking somewhere less public. It was quite rowdy both inside and outside of the coffee shop.

“My apartment is two blocks away if you want to go somewhere more private so we can talk.” you babbled, no longer able to look at him in his intense, pecan brown eyes for too long due to your shyness coming at it at an all time high. Fuck he was intimidating. The confidence he exuded had your mouth watering.

Christ, he was sex on a stick. The man only had on a dark gray shirt, blue jeans that hugged him in all the right places and working boots. A warm flush crept across your face and neck. Get it together, girl, you thought to yourself. He barely said two full sentences to you and you were already hot and bothered. To be fair, he’d been the only one to make you cum every week for the past five and a half months.

He raised a thick eyebrow at your suggestion — you dropped his hand, gesturing wildly once you realized how your offer must have sounded. “I mean—fuck! I promise I’m not a weirdo, Jay.”

His eyes crinkled as he chuckled, shaking his head fondly at you, “Joel,” he said. “My name is Joel.”

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kalisburnerphone · 8 months

Text

Amazing // Choi Seungcheol

Summary: Seungcheol doesn’t understand why she won’t let him take care of her when it’s all he wants to do. He has no idea how she found out about what he’s been doing every month for the past six months but he’s sure he can get her to agree with his logic.

Warnings: Idol!Seungcheol x OC!Solana, kinda one-sided situationship, a tiny bit suggestive,Seungcheol on his glucose guardian agenda, curve/plus-sized, foreigner!oc, Seungcheol calls her Sol, princess. I think that’s about it, let me know if I missed anything.

A/N: This is part of an idolverse series that’ll be posted in non-chronological order. I’m not sure how many parts members will have but there might be instances of crossovers.Mingyu, Seungcheol and Minghao are the only ones that I have anything written/plotted for. I’m not promising frequent updates because I’m currently on an intensive training program before starting grad school but I have some free time starting Thursday so I’ll try to work on pieces during that time. I only just got back into posting my work in the kpop community after a break from it but I do enjoy anime as well so you may come across it on my dashboard. Lastly, I am absolute trash when it comes to titles and summaries so please bare with me in advance.

Solana and Seungcheol rarely argued and if they did, it was usually about the same thing; Seungcheol spending his money on her like it was the easiest thing in the world for him to do. And in his mind, it was. Seungcheol understood that she was more than capable of providing for and taking care of herself but he felt as though she shouldn’t have to with him around.

They’d met before he’d even acquired the amount of money he had today so he knew for a fact that it wasn’t why she was with him which is exactly why he spent it on her. Seungcheol in most instances believed that actions spoke louder than words and if he felt like buying his girlfriend’s entire shopping cart on her favorite jewelry site than that’s exactly what he’s going to do.

Usually Sol wouldn’t say anything because no matter how much she told him not to, he’d find a way to justify his actions and just do it once again. This time however, she refused to let him.

“Yah!! Choi Seungcheol!” She exclaimed as she entered her apartment. His head pops out from the kitchen where he’d been peeling tangerines when he hears her.

“What’d I do?” She only ever called him by his government name when she angry or irritated with him.

“Y’know what you did! I thought we agreed that you’d ease up on excessive amounts of spending that you do on me?”

“We did, I haven’t spent excessively on you since the last time you gave me an earful for buying everything in your cart from The Jade Jewelers. What’s this about?” He asks tangerines forgotten as he follows her to the living room area, arms crossed over his chest as he looks at her rummaging through her bag before pulling out a small pile of paper.

“You’re really going to play dumb with me right now? You haven’t been spending excessively? Then explain this.” She spits out pressing the printed sheets to his chest.

Seungcheol takes the papers from her hand, looking them over before ‘shit’ is whispered from his lips. “You weren’t supposed to find out about this.”

“Well, no shit Seungcheol. Explain yourself.” She snaps as she sits on the couch with her arms crossed and looking directly at him.

“How’d you find out?”

“That’s not important. I’ve been living here for six months and you’ve been paying my rent this entire time after I told you I didn’t like you spending excessively on me especially when it came to things that I’m capable of handling on my own.”

“I know you’re capable, I do, but just because you can do all these things for yourself doesn’t mean that you have to. I’m here and I’m willing, wanting to do these things for you but you won’t let me.Why can’t I do nice things for you?”

Because it makes this feel like it’s more than what it is. It’s what she wants to tell him because as much as Seungcheol acted like it wasn’t that big of a deal, it was to her. She’d constantly have to remind herself that they weren’t in a relationship. They hooked up whenever he had free time and him paying for her KTX ticket and accommodation in Seoul was as much as she said she’d allow him but Choi Seungcheol had a way of getting whatever he wanted.

“It’s not that you can’t do nice things for me, it’s just that you have a habit of behaving like a damn glucose guardian when it comes to expenses.”

“Okay, and? If I want to behave like your sugar daddy and pay and do everything for you then you should just let me. Think about it,” he says dropping in the space next to her wasting no time in pulling her onto his lap.

“I cover all your basic expenses and necessities and all you have to do is sit pretty and get that degree. Sounds like a win-win situation to me.”

“No. Now either fix it or I’m transferring the money to your account.”

“I’ll send it right back. Play with me if you want to.” He smirks at her.

“God, you’re so infuriating.” She huffs getting off his lap and moving down the hall to her bedroom.”

“Yahhhh, we weren’t finished yet.” She can hear him pouting as he follows behind her.

“Yes, we are because you’re going to do it again regardless of what I say right now.” She responses slipping off her jacket.

“Sollllllll, are you really that upset about it?” When she doesn’t reply, he wraps his arms around her waist and rests his head on her shoulder. “If I compromise with you, will you stop being upset with me and go back to calling me Cheol?”

“Does that compromise include you not paying all my bills?” She replies sarcastically.

“Watch it, princess. Don’t want that mouth getting you in trouble don’t you? I’ve already let you slide with the sass, don’t push it.” He speaks into her ear before lightly nipping at her neck.

“I’ll let you pay your phone bill and groceries but that’s it. Despite what you say I know you only moved out from the dorms this early because of me and to allow us more privacy. The least I can do is cover your rent and utilities, I can’t help it because that’s just who I am and you know this. Now, forgive me please?”

Seungcheol asks spinning her around in his arms. She was just about an inch or two shorter than him so he didn’t have to do much to look her in the eyes. “I don’t want you mad at me on my last night before I leave.”

“Forgive me,” there’s a peck to her cheek followed by another until Seungcheol has pressed kisses all over her face and has her a giggling mess.

“Fine, fine,Cheolll.” She laughs trying to escape him but he’s not having it.

“I can’t hear you princess, what was that?” He teases as he grasps her chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“I forgive you,”

“And?” he encourages though he already knows that he’s gotten his way once again.

“I’ll let you take care of me even if it means putting my pride and independent nature aside and letting you pay my rent.” she sighs dramatically.

She’d never admit it but seeing Seungcheol be domestic had a tendency to do things to her. Things he’d never let her hear the end of if he knew. She’d seen a lot of different sides to Choi Seungcheol in the two years since they started all this but domesticated Seungcheol was her second favorite.

“Y’know what’s amazing?” He asks and she’s so busy staring at him that she misses the teasing lithe in his voice.

“Hmmm?” Her hands are draped over his shoulders, fingers playing in the hair at the nape of his neck. His hands around her waist resting on the curve of her ass as he leans in closer to her ear.

“We both know that I have no problem getting your pussy wet but when are you finally going to admit that me being all domesticated and taking care of you gets you all hot and bothered the same way it does to me? Hmmm?”

The way her breath hitches is enough to let him know that he’s right but he doesn’t act on it.

“C’mon, I cut fruit and we have new episodes to finish.” He says kissing her cheek as he leaves her standing in the bedroom like he didn’t just read her for filth. It takes a few seconds for her to recover but once she does she’s following behind him.

“Yah! Choi Seungcheol!”

#svt x oc #svt fluff #svt imagines #svt smut #svt #svt seungcheol #scoups smut #scoups #choi seungcheol #seungcheol smut #seventeen seungcheol #seventeen scoups #seventeen scenarios #seventeen #svt cheol #seventeen smut #seventeen x oc #Choi Seungcheol x OC

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billthedrake · 9 months

Text

This is a collaboration that @josmith1718 and I have been working on together for a while. It's a hypnosis themed story, so be forewarned if that's not your thing.

THE PROTOCOL

By JoSmith and Bill Drake

CHAPTER ONE

I came home from work and was ready to unwind when I realized that dad was not there yet. I found it weird because he was usually back before me. Nevertheless, I went inside and began to change out of my suit and put on some shorts before warming up some food. While I was in the kitchen, dad came in and sighed as he usually did. I felt for him, single dad, divorced with a 27-year-old son living at home couldn’t have been easy on him. I did my part to lighten his stress by providing outlets for him to let loose and not be the hardass foreman he was at work at home.

"Welcome home, Dad. How was your day?" I asked as I took out a plate and served him some of the leftover lasagna I warmed up for myself.

"It was horrible, buddy. I need to relax before I start going bald." He came towards me and hugged me. I hugged him back, feeling his hard body gained from years working construction. When we separated, I smiled at him, and he leaned down and gave me a kiss. We made out a bit before he and I separated, and he went to get a beer from the fridge.

"At least you’re home, right?"

"Yeah, with my favorite guy." He replied. He was hot, literally and, well... literally. We had been going through a heatwave and he had to be on site most of the day. I was indoors but even the short distance I had to walk to my car was unbearable with the full suit and tie getup I had to wear for work. I could only imagine him sweating through his plaid shirt, dripping as the sweat traveled down his meaty pecs, down his hairy body….

I’d loved this man ever since I graduated from undergrad. When he divorced the second time, I asked him to move in with me. Sure, the apartment I had at the time was not a mansion, but we made it work. After some years and promotions, we were able to upgrade to a nice home in the suburbs. Dad continued as a foreman, and I stayed in the corporate world until they brought up the opportunity to get my MBA in a top-shelf B-school that my company partnered with.

"How was your day, buddy?" He asked as he was taking a sip from his beer. I shook my head and smiled, "Good, I got an exam tomorrow, but it's nice to have a night off." I was doing grad school part time. It was a great deal: my company was footing the bill and there was an implicit promise of a promotion after. But the evening classes and the weekends devoted to homework were kicking my butt. Thankfully, I had a great support system in my father.

After warming up the food, I brought it to the table, and he and I ate in silence. Dad was always tired, always stressed, and it was hard for me to look at him like that. He'd always warned me not to go into a manual labor profession, and I'd taken every bit of his dreams for my own future and tried to live up to them, and more. When I graduated the first time, I said that this was our degree, not just mine. This new MBA would be just as much as his as it was mine.

When dinner was over, I got the dishes and Dad began to undress, "I’m taking a shower son. I don’t want to keep the scent of the site on me any longer."

"I don’t mind it, dad..." I smirked at him.

He shook his head and came towards me, "You like your old man smelly?" He whispered in a hushed raspy tone.

"You smell like a man, dad." I responded with confidence as I finished unbuttoning his plaid shirt.

"How did I get so lucky with you, bud?" He replied before we began to make out again. My fingers felt his hard rounded muscle, dusted with his fur. Dad was big all over, beefy and strong, but his chest was the centerpiece of it all - big and round pecs that felt like stone beneath my fingers.

We stopped making out and he got on his knees, "My shower can wait but I think my corporate son needs to relax with a nice blowjob from his old man," Dad was rubbing his hand over my bulge before looking up at me again, "let me service this cock, son."

"Aren’t you tired too?" I asked, but selfishly, yeah, I wanted this as well.

"This helps me relax," he smiled and then fished out the cock from shorts and started to blow me. He was skilled, after several years of blowing me, he had learned what I liked. I never got tired of my construction worker father - my tan, muscled, hairy, beefy, sexy construction worker dad, who was more than willing to get on his knees and suck my cock whenever I needed “relaxing.” In my mind, he justified the blowjobs he expertly gave as doing it for “my son’s pleasure, not mine.” That was a facade, since every time he shot his own load, his mouth was connected to my cock. The old man loved sucking my cock just as much as I liked getting blown.

"Dad, I’m getting close, Dad, fuck, I’m getting—"

I shot and my dad greedily sucked and sucked until every drop was in his mouth and down his throat.

"Good load, buddy,” he grinned as he leaned back, a proud smile on his gruffly handsome mug. “Now, time to take my shower." He kissed my cock and got up to head to the master bathroom.

The sex was great, incredible as always, but I still kept thinking about how stressed Dad had become. That evening, I talked to him about letting me have more of the responsibility of the house and its finances. I told him that I could pitch in more, and I'd tried to get him to talk about finances. Maybe it was putting the cart before the horse, but in my head, I'd be earning a lot more by 30 and ready to ensure dad and I were financially stable enough for him to look for something more relaxed or retire outright.

I was ready to make sure dad was not so stressed all the time.

"Buddy, it’s fine how things are. I’m fine." He said, but then I continued.

"Dad, you’re stressed, and I don’t blame you at all. I have enough money to make sure that we can live comfortably. Especially after this promotion, you could potentially retire."

"I don’t..." he started to object. Then he sat back up and took off the reading glasses he had on to read his iPad, "Son, I’m happy. Being with you, making sure you’re happy, I’m fine. No need to worry about me. I’m your dad, that’s my job."

"And my job as your son is to make sure you are happy too. I’m not happy to see you so stressed." I got closer to him and began to fondle his pecs and nipples, "This, us, I’m happy... but seeing you stress over bills, that does not make me happy."

He took in what I was saying but was stubborn ol’ Dad. "In some ways, I’m old school. I am the father so that means I oversee the finances and everything that has to do with the household. I can’t just let it go…"

"You are in charge of people at work all the time. You have a lot of responsibility; I can take some for you dad. I want to do that for you. Think about it, yeah?"

"You’re so good to me, son." He kissed me before he traveled down my body, ready to give me another blowjob, "You gonna give me something to help me have a good night sleep?" He winked at me. Then I felt my dad's wet lips and soft tongue start working my hardon again. As he slowly sucked and bobbed and then went further down on me, I tried to rack my brain to remember the last day the man hadn't gotten me off at least twice.

I couldn't remember.

I was damn lucky.

***

We didn’t talk about finances anymore and went back to the same routine. Dad was great and loving, but he was also a stubborn man. Maybe I'd inherited his stubborn streak, too.

In the spring I graduated and got my promotion at work officially. I was to get a raise and a new office. It was something I was excited for. I was already doing some of the work of the new position to get used to the new processes, but as soon as my contract was renewed and everything was official, I invited dad to see my new office. He came wearing a plaid shirt and dark jeans.

"Wow, my son, the executive." He was impressed.

"Junior executive," I corrected him. Mind you, my company handed out VP titles like candy, but I was proud and prouder that Dad was proud. I closed the door and lowered the blinds. It was late afternoon, and most people were leaving, but I wanted to show Dad that everything he and I worked for was beginning to pay off.

He turned around and damned if he didn’t tackle me to the wall. He was kissing me, groping me and pawing at my body.

"You look so fucking handsome in your suit and tie, buddy." He whispered as he felt the silk tie he had given me for one of my birthdays.

I bit my lip, "Dad..." My heart was beating fast and the anticipation of what was going to happen was beginning to make me get a hardon in my dress slacks.

"Let me show you how proud I am of you buddy." He whispered and then undid his shirt, button by button, he slowly began to reveal that beautiful hairy body and got on his knees. He undid the zipper of my slacks and fished out my cock, "Executive cock… fucking A, son... you’re making one of my fantasies come true."

Up until now, I thought his career dreams for me were about my financial success in life, but I was starting to get the feeling my father was into professional dudes. The fact I was his flesh and blood made his turn-on that much deeper.

The big man took his time, it was a slow session, edging me as I stayed pressed against the wall. I took off my tie and put it around his neck. We had never done something like this and since it was a first, I gave it a shot. We were pretty vanilla, more so because I could tell dad had hang ups. My old man was momentarily surprised but growled as I slipped the silk tighter around his neck. I tightened the tie and pulled him towards my cock. He got into it, doubling his efforts as I messed up his hair, "Come on, dad, suck your boy’s cock."

He nodded.

"You like that?" I growled. "Your son, the executive, is making you into his personal fleshlight."

That got a deep, heavy moan from the guy. I got rock fucking hard. In all our time together, I never got verbal like this. I never imagined my buddy-buddy blue-collar dad would be remotely into it. This was new territory for both of us. His reaction, the intensity of his blowjob, I couldn’t handle it and blew in his mouth. It felt like an eternity, but he continued to suck until every drop was taken in. When he took my cock from his mouth, some spit got on his chest. I got on my knees and rubbed the saliva all over his hairy pecs and munched on his nipples.

"Buddy..." He cradled my head, applying slight pressure to get me to bite his nipple more.

I bit and pulled; dad groaned but he never told me to stop. He pulled me up and kissed me deeply. I took off my suit jacket and rolled on the floor with him, making out, celebrating this new phase in our life.

We stopped when we heard a knock on the door telling me goodnight. I said good night, my voice hoarse but as soon as I cleared my throat, I said goodnight again and saw dad catching his breath against the wall.

I crawled and stayed next to him until I spoke, "So this was a fantasy of yours?" I asked. My white shirt was wrinkled, my suit jacket discarded on the floor, my pants dirty from the fibers of the carpet. My face flushed from a good rutting. Dad looked at me and responded with a "Yeah," with an uncharacteristic blush.

"What else do you fantasize about, dad?" I asked as he rubbed his palm. He stayed quiet but I began to get an idea when I saw the red tie near him.

"I don't know, Kyle" he began, "You gonna think less of me, son?"

"Course not," I replied. We’d been carrying on our crazy father-son affair for years, and it blew my mind that there was more to discover.

He nodded and ran his fingers along my dress shirt. "When you took control... that was very hot."

I grabbed his hand, caressing it with my fingers as he felt me up. I wasn't going soft and worried I wouldn't soon. "That turned me on, too, Dad. Maybe a little too much."

He gave me a concerned look. "We don't gotta, Kyle."

I patted his hand. "Believe me, Dad. I wanna. Just don't want you to feel less than… y’know," I laughed.

He laughed along. "Well, let's talk about more at home, OK, buddy?"

I straightened up as best as I could. I was still quite disheveled, and dad was too, but we made do with what we had and left the office smelling of sex. I left the door ajar hoping to air out some of the scent. Hopefully the cleaning people would not suspect anything. Office sex may have been risky, but I knew I'd be wanting to do that again. And from the glint in Dad's eye, I suspected he was thinking the same thing.

We picked up some takeout and a six pack on the way home. I always shuddered when we pulled up into our suburban driveway, looking like a normal son who's a temporary roommate with his father to save some money, or biding my time till I met the right girl. On the other hand, we did move to a suburb where no one knew us and could only assume who we were. No one ever asked us, and we never clarified. There was a mystery surrounding us and that made it hotter for me. Inside this home, we were father and son but so much more. Maybe even husbands someday…

After dinner, I brought up finances again. We were doing good month-by-month, but I knew we could refinance the mortgage, invest our spare cash more wisely, and start stocking away extra for our future. Dad still bristled at my bossy tendencies when it came to money. He had the experience of raising a family and being man of the house when I was growing up, but I knew more about personal finance. I just wanted him to not need to burden so much by himself.

Still, he was more open to it this time. Not saying no outright. Asking me questions. Not giving up control, but not being the normal Brian Peterson.

But even as we talked about the dullest, most boring stuff possible, his eyes shifting, looking at me with… lust. In the mood for round two or maybe he was just responding to my own lust for him. Having Dad around, living with him, supercharged my sex drive.

He finished off his beer and shot me a smirk. "Feel like hitting the bed a little earlier tonight, buddy?" he asked.

I think the office sex had amped up his libido. Me, I was just horny. "Yah," I said.

We both got up from the table and it was unmistakable, both Peterson men were horned up. My cock strained my shorts and dad had opted to go pantless, only wearing boxer briefs and an old college t-shirt of mine. Every time this man wore my clothes, it made me feel closer to him.

Something was different that night. As we headed to our room, not saying anything, there was a feeling that something had shifted. The atmosphere was supercharged, I felt warm and giddy. Dad kept looking at me and smirking that goddamn sexy smirk. Once in the room, we planted ourselves to opposite sides of the bed and did a slow strip tease for one another.

Dad had refused to go into detail about his and Mom's relationship ("too close to home, buddy"), but I gathered his second wife didn't like how much of a sex drive Dad had. She was fucking crazy, I thought, as I watched him peel off my shirt that was snug on his frame and slowly lower his underwear.

"Fuck, you have a beautiful cock, son," he hissed as I finally slipped out of my briefs. I had inherited dad's length, but had some extra girth. A lot of extra girth, to be truthful. I'm not sure where it came from, but my father seemed to enjoy it.

He kicked off his underwear and joined me naked on the bed a few seconds after I'd climbed onto the mattress. Our bodies connected and we kissed, making our way to a fully reclined position to make out. It was electric. There was never a moment in all this time we were together where the kiss lacked chemistry or passion. This man had the most talented mouth on a construction worker. His kisses were everything you read about in the hottest erotica or saw in movies.

In the midst of the make out session, I ended on top of him. My body on his, his hands on my back pulling me closer to him. His groans of pleasure as I placed my weight on him. I don't know if I took the initiative to roll on top of him, or Dad pulled me into that position. Nevertheless, my mind wandered to what he was thinking. I thought maybe he'd ask me to fuck his face. I had to go easy with that but occasionally he was in the mood for that. That was as far as ‘kinky’ our sex would get.

"You wanna fuck me, Kyle?" Dad asked. Paternal, friendly, and vulnerable all at once. I looked at him and if he wanted to know, my twitching cock on his was answer enough.

We'd tried that a couple of times. Dad at first swore that wasn't for him. Neither of my attempts was successful, it just hurt too much attempting to breach the tightness of his cherry. I didn't harp on it, or press it, but Dad knew the idea turned me on. "Yeah?" I asked, surprised.

"Go slow, OK?" He urged.

"God, yeah," I grunted. I kissed him deeply then started kissing along his neck and upper body, gradually working my way down.

Dad realized I was going to try to rim him. His hand reached out to stop me. "Don't think I'm up for that buddy. Sorry," he said.

I looked into his eyes. Those loving fatherly eyes. The man treated me right every night, and I wanted to make sure he was into every bit of this. "Sure thing, Dad," I replied. I reached for the lube I used on the rare occasions I had to stroke off on my own. Like I say, it had been a while.

I guess the stuff doesn't go bad, I thought, as I undid the cap and squirted some on my fingers. Then more.

My fingering was slow, real slow. Dad hissed some but seemed OK with it. I even got two fingers in and out easy as anything and had my father's hole stretched around a third. It was time.

I lubed up and scooted in place. Dad complied by pulling his legs back and wide, showing off his mature, furry hole that was like a hit of poppers to me. Or coke. Or heroin, or something. I just knew my dick was rock hard seeing that unviolated dad pucker and my thick dick lining up for it.

I went as gently as I could, nudging, teasing that ring before applying some real pressure.

"Oh fuck, slow!" Dad gasped. His hand reached out to touch my chest, stopping me, and his eyes looked up in a plea. I bit my lip and took a deep breath and backed off a bit.

I nodded and realized I'd have to take it slower. I leaned in and made out with him, trying to get his mind off the pain. That seemed to relax the big guy. His beefy body relaxed on the bed beneath me. I tried not to break the kiss as I tried again. Even slower.

Fuck, it didn't work. Dad let out a yelp like I'd stabbed him. "God, that fucking hurts," he cried as he broke our kiss. No more pleading in his eyes, just a lot of pain and frustration.

I rolled off him. My hardon was gone, replaced by my concern for him.

"Sorry, Kyle," he said, softly, contritely. "I know you wanted it, bad."

I sighed. "Come on, Dad. You gotta want it, too. If I wanted to fuck something not invested in it, I’d buy a blow up doll."

He turned and faced me, a hangdog look on his gruff face. "That's the thing, son. I do want it. I want to make you happy, give you that pleasure. It's just... my body doesn't seem to cooperate." He looked down at my softened dick. "I guess I kind of killed the mood, huh?"

"You didn't kill anything, Dad," I said, pulling him into a soft kiss. It was a romantic, reassuring kiss, but pretty soon we got each other worked up again. Before I knew it, I was rock hard. And Dad's fist circling around it felt amazing with the lube job I'd given myself.

"Damn," I hissed, pulling back and looking down to where Dad was giving me a hand job. We'd never done this and while it would probably never be my preferred sex act, it felt amazing just then.

"You like that buddy?" Dad growled playfully, his breath on my ear, his tongue flicking at the earlobe as his fist continued working my tool. "Fuck... I love taking care of my boy." He admitted aloud.

I turned to look at him and he held his gaze on me. I loved this man and even more because he wanted to give me his all. "You’ll take care of me, right dad?" I asked, gulping at my question. Involuntarily I thrust some into his greased fist.

"Let your old man take care of you son. That’s my job, to make sure you’re satisfied." Dad pumped me some more, looking down at my meat before looking back up at me. "Earlier, bud... when you were on top of me.... I was so fucking proud of my hot executive son.... ready to take charge."

"Oh shit," I gulped. I didn't feel like I was taking charge then. Dad was playing me like a fiddle, just like he was playing with my cock.

His lips formed a sexy leer. "You like that, huh, son? Being in charge?"

"Hell yes," I replied, gaining my voice and admitting the fantasy that had been latent. Dad was tapping into it big time that day. "I don't mean any disrespect to you, sir," I said. I hadn't called him Sir since I was like 16. But the emotions were pouring out. "But that idea.... of being man of the house... oh fuck!"

My cum was shooting. I knew I was on the edge but that orgasm hit hard and fast, by surprise.

"Shoot it, buddy!" Dad encouraged, milking me harder. "My hot fucking stud."

I felt like I had left my body how hard this orgasm had been, feeling a sudden lassitude hit me with the post-coital endorphins. My body jerked as I felt Dad kiss my belly and lick up my jets of semen. Then I felt his mouth encircle my prick, unconcerned about the lube there. Sucking me all the way down. I had a reflexive reaction to the overstimulation and almost pushed Dad off.

But the second I touched his shoulder; I had second thoughts. I knew the sensitivity would go away and that I'd enjoy another BJ. I circled my dad's delt muscle and held him to work him up and down my bone.

***

It was the weekend before Dad brought up the idea.

"Kyle... you got a minute?" he asked as I came in from mowing the lawn. We split the household duties, but given that dad worked hard in the hot sun day in and day out, I tried to tackle the major yard work.

"Yeah, Dad... what's up?"

He got me a cold soda from the fridge and pulled up a chair to our kitchen island where we had a lot of our meals. Dad had a barely concealed look of excitement on his face as he started in.

"So I've been thinking... I guess I have a lot of hang ups when it comes to sex...."

I laughed. "Dad, you're the last guy I'd say has any hang ups." I mean, the guy had blown me in the shower that morning. And then asked if I wanted seconds. "Seriously, you're incredible."

He grinned, pleased at the compliment. But he continued. "I do though. The other night, I really wanted to bottom for you. But I just have a hard time giving up control."

I grimaced. "Dad we don't gotta. If it's not fun for both of us, I don't wanna do it."

Dad was anticipating that answer. "Tell me the truth, Kyle. Would you enjoy fucking me, right?"

I didn't have to ponder the answer. "I would," I admitted. "That doesn't mean..." I started.

Dad interrupted. "Buddy, of course we don't gotta.. But I think I found a solution." He picked up his iPad and clicked on the screen then pushed it my way.

There was a webpage with big bold lettering. "HYPNOTHERAPY..., a way to take back control of your life by using our services. You too can overcome challenges and learned behaviors stopping you from being the best you."

Dad watched excitedly as I read it. "I found them through an online forum…" I raised my eyebrow and he blushed, "I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, buddy… I want to be able to give you my all and found a forum with guys with similar issues as mine, unable to bottom for their partner and well… A lot of services don't let you use it for sex therapy, but several guys had good experience with this company. Said it was worth every penny."

"You want me to undergo hypnosis?" I asked slowly. I loved my dad but sometimes he could have wacky ideas.

He chuckled and shook his head, "No buddy, I want you to hypnotize me. You know, kind of get me past my mental roadblocks."

God, he was serious. I felt a flush of heat. There was something powerfully hot about the idea, but it also felt wrong. "Dad, I don’t know that it works like that."

"Won't you even fucking give it a try?" I'd never seen Dad upset at me like this, at least not in a while. "Listen... I called them and they assured me that they could do virtual training if need be." He was giving me that hangdog look of his that was hard to say no to. "It'd be an hour consultation with me and then a three-hour mini course for you. I figure after all those econ classes you'd be a quick study," he smirked.

"I'll think about it," I said.

That seemed to cheer him up and he stood up and came over and patted my shoulder. "Love ya so much, buddy," he said. "I just want to find a way to make you happy."

"You do, Dad," I replied then felt his strong muscle get closer behind me and his hand travel down my sweaty T-shirt, feeling up my chest muscle. I thought Dad had drained me pretty good earlier but I was boning up, fast. "Dad... when was the last time you edged me?"

I heard his soft chuckle. "Beats me, buddy... beach vacation last year?" He patted my pec muscle and gave my head a soft kiss. "Why don't you go shower up? I'll put on a Sox game and we'll see if I can get you to hold off blasting till the eighth inning, OK?"

I laughed and turned around to meet his kiss.

***

The next day Dad went into my home office, shut the door and did his one-on-one consultation. I spent the afternoon online with a mild-mannered guy. Handsome dude in his early 30s, he had that tech-bro attire on, but he had a way of making me feel at ease with him. He asked me about myself and my goals in life. We hadn't told the company we were father and son of course, but I talked in general terms about my relationship with Dad.

"Would you say he was a father figure for you? In your relationship..." His tone wasn't judgmental.

"Definitely," I said, and he nodded, writing some stuff down.

Then it was twenty questions about our sex life. I hesitated at first but decided to be honest and do this, for Dad.

That was the first hour. The next hour was the man describing the process - the Protocol as he called it. Dad would be asked to listen regularly to a recording, a mix of repeated words and white noise. I was given the trigger words and told how and when to use them. Beyond that there was a general script, but Tech Bro told me I’d have to use and adapt it, almost improvise. It was a method more than anything.

“It’s easier than it sounds, Kyle,” he explained. “You’re in finance right? Think of it as a flow chart or business strategy plan. You respond to Brian’s psyche.”

The man warned me about what not to do, but also allayed my concerns. "Kyle, Brian is doing this because he wants to. You can't make him do what he doesn't want to, deep down. Just remember that."

"Yeah," I said, trying to convince myself. Part of me was convinced this was all a sham and it wouldn't work. And part of me was afraid it would work all too well.

"I believe you're going to enjoy this, too," he finally said. I kind of zoned out a little, because the next thing I remember was the Tech Bro's voice. "You feeling relaxed?"

"Yeah, I am," I replied.

"Good," he said. I've sent you the link to a recorded video that will walk you through the hypnosis you're going to perform on Brian. Watch a few times before you actually do it."

With that, he signed off.

***

I gave it a week. Each night, Dad would come home, tired from work. We'd have dinner, he'd blow me and the hour before bed, he'd listen to the recording, headphones on as he lay on the couch, eyes closed. I took the time to review the instructional video.

On Friday, I got an email from the company. "Watch this and you'll be ready."

I found myself surprisingly thrilled to click the link. It was a video conference recording, only with my dad in center frame. The familiar bookshelves and posters from my home office were in the background, and I realized it was from Dad's initial consultation. Only the video started halfway in, after the preliminaries.

The man's voice was a different man’s, deeper and more seductive and monotone. "That's it, Brian... let those eyelids get heavier and heavier.... don't need to fight it. Just let it feel good."

Dad nodded and as the voice droned on in its hypnosis chant, I saw him finally relax. At first nothing seemed to be happening but then I saw dad's shoulders lean in and then his head slumped forward.

The voice became more assertive, "Good, Brian. How do you feel?"

"Relaxed..." Dad said in a monotone voice.

"That’s good to hear. Every time you hear the phrase ‘power down’ you will revert to this state, is that clear?"

"Yes..."

I was so fucking hard watching his. Particularly because I realized Dad had given up control for my sake.

"Now, let’s begin…"

I listened to how the man guided dad and how he brought him back. I was jotting down notes. When dad came back to, it was as though he was waking up from a deep sleep.

"How do you feel?"

"Relaxed, as though I just went on vacation. Thank you." Normal Dad voice, groggy from having ‘woken up.’ It was wild seeing that happen. I don’t think my father was just playing along. We were paying good money for this and if it was not working, Dad would say so.

Then the video stopped.

I was horny all afternoon. Dad sensed something was off when I got home. Friday is normally our unofficial dad-son date night. And when Dad came into the living room, he saw I was sitting nervously.

"Something wrong, Kyle?" he asked, unbuttoning his plaid work shirt. It was unusual for Dad to call me by my name unless he was mad, worried or we were at a work event, though those were rare before my promotion.

"Just a tough day at work," I lied. I forced a smile. "Why don't you get dressed and we'll go out and grab a bite."

That seemed to relax Dad as he smiled before turning to go to the room and get ready. He was looking great when he walked back to the living room wearing a clean polo shirt that hugged his beefy body and some jeans.

"Ready son? I'm starving."

I perked up over dinner but when we got home, I patted Dad's meaty shoulder once we walked into the living room. "Power down," I said, my body shaking with the nerves of what I was doing.

I honestly didn't expect this to work as easily as it did, but at hearing his trigger, Dad’s face went slack, his hands dropped to his sides and his eyes became glazed. I gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"How do you feel?" I asked. Dad acknowledged the question but did not look at me nor register who I was.

Instead, he answered while concentrating at a point in the distance. "Relaxed and calm..."

I tried to remember the protocol. I was glad I'd watched the instructions multiple times since the words came to me readily; "Good... you know that every time you are in this state, you feel relaxed and calm, correct?"

"Yes... relaxed and calm." God, his voice was so sexy, deep and soft like this.

"Kyle put you in this place because he loves you very much. Repeat after me, ‘Kyle loves me.’"

"Kyle loves me."

"Again."

"Kyle loves me."

"Good. Kyle knows you have a hard time showing him you love him." I had to give the company credit; they'd come up with a hypnosis protocol specifically tailored to our needs.

"I do," Dad's reply came. "I love my boy so much."

My heart pounded. Dad was looking in my direction but not focusing on me as he spoke. He was open to everything I would be saying to him while in this state and he would answer my questions truthfully and with no hesitations.

"How do you want to show him your love, Brian?" It gave me a thrill to call my old man by his first name.

"I want Kyle to fuck me," Dad said simply, "I know that would make him happy."

Pretty much, things had gone to script so far, but the protocol was more about a set of prompts and ways to deal with the truth of the response.

"Will you do that for him?" I asked, a horny knot in my throat. "Will you make your son happy?"

Dad nodded. "I want to, but I couldn't… I can’t."

"Why is that Brian, why can’t you give your son this one thing?"

"Because I'm a man. Men don't get fucked."

Jesus. The man had some issues I wasn't prepared for. But it made sense my butch, blue-collar dad would have some issues about bottoming. I stepped up and touched his face. He didn't flinch and didn't lean into the caress, but he smiled dreamily.

"Kyle is a man, right?" I asked. I was ad adlibbing some, but this was basically following the protocol. Leaning into the resistance.

Dad nodded, "He is. My son is the sexiest man I know."

I was getting rock hard now. I walked backwards as I began to take off my clothes. I rubbed my cock to feed the pleasure and continued.

"You think your son is a sexy man and you love your boy very much… Do you think Kyle should be the one getting fucked instead?" I asked. This wasn't scripted but was part of the jiu jitsu move of taking the man's hangups and using them against him.

Dad's brow creased for a second then the calm returned. "No. Kyle does the fucking."

I was dripping now. I let go of my prick and stepped a little closer. I could smell the Irish Spring or whatever fucking soap he uses at the end of a hard day. "I want you to remember that, Brian," I said. "I want you to remember that Kyle does the fucking."

A part of me felt low for trying to get Dad to put out for me like this. But I remembered what the Tech Bro had said about Dad only doing what he'd want to do deep down.

My father's tranced response was automatic. "Kyle does the fucking."

I nodded. "I want you to think about that. A few times a day at least. Think about your sexy stud of a son. The executive, fucking you, seeing the love you have for him. Show your boy that you love him by giving him what he wants. And when you do, it will give you a sense of happiness and pleasure."

"Happiness and pleasure," he repeated.

"And when you feel him on top of you, his weight on top of you, you will feel safe and content."

"Safe and content."

I wasn't 100 perfectly sure if I was doing this right. Dad was zone out to be sure, but I worried he was just repeating whatever the fuck I said. So, I asked, "Why is that?"

Dad's answer had surprising clarity, as it was his normal voice speaking to me. "Because my son is a man. And men fuck, men don't get fucked."

Maybe it would take me a while to deprogram that nonsense from him, but a shallow side of me was getting turned on by the way Dad talked in such primitive, black-and-white terms about fucking.

"Good," I instructed. "Now..." It was time to return to the Protocol. "I want you to envision an empty room. An empty white room. Totally white. Blindingly white..."

"Yes..."

I moved back away from him, a few paces away.

"Good. I want you to concentrate on my voice. As I begin to count to five, you will be walking towards a door. Kyle will be there, walking with you, making sure you are taken care of."

Dad took a breath and nodded, his big chest rising and falling.

"You do not need to do this alone," I continued. "Kyle will be with you every step of the way. I’m going to count to five and once I get there, I want you see the door. When we get to the door, I’ll tell you what will happen next." Dad didn’t respond but nodded as he began to concentrate on what I was saying.

"One... you are walking forward..." Dad began to walk towards me, "two... you are reaching out to hold Kyle’s hands, he alone brings you comfort and relaxation..." Dad reached towards me and soon as my hands touched his, he held on to them with a firm grip... "three, we are walking to the door I mentioned. It’s getting closer... four, we are almost to the door... Five, we are here..."

"I can see it," Dad said softly. It's bright but I can see it." His voice was deep but excited.

"Open the door. What do you see?" I asked. The Protocol was about the implantation of a suggestion and the reinforcement of that before the session was over.

"Our bedroom," Dad replied. Again, his voice had a strange clarity. "I'm on it, on my back... and Kyle is fucking me."

I almost came then, but luckily my hand was nowhere near my cock.

"How does that make you feel, getting fucked by your sexy son?" I asked.

"I am relaxed and content… And happy. Kyle is making me happy."

"The same way you feel when you are sucking your son’s cock, worshiping it, making it shoot for you… that’s how it’ll feel when you let yourself get fucked by him… you’ll feel pleasure beyond what you could imagine."

"When he fucks me..." his voice was getting that soft drone like quality again.

One big no they told me was not to have Dad under hypnosis for too long. Especially for the first sessions. It was time to bring him back.

"Good, Brian. Close the door." I saw Dad do the motion of closing the imaginary door hesitantly, he wanted what he saw but until now, that was more of a dream than a reality.

"Think of that moment, Brian. Think how happy you were, how happy you made your son. All that matters now is that you show your love for your son. He deserves it as much as you do, to feel the pleasure only you two can give each other. Understood?"

Dad nodded. I wanted to kiss him, hug him, but I needed to bring him out, "Now, at the count of three, you will follow all my suggestions while you were under. Deep in your mind, you know that Kyle does the fucking and that to show him you love him, you have to let go and give him what he wants… what does he want?"

"To fuck me… fuck his dad…" Dad responded, biting his lip and his cock beginning to get hard.

"Yes, fucking you will give him happiness and bring you pleasure. That’s all you want, as a dad right? Bring happiness to your son?"

"Yes, I want my son to be happy…"

"And your boy wants to give you pleasure."

"Give me pleasure… my boy…"

"Yes. I’m going to count to three and you’ll wake up, not realizing you were under but following all instructions. You will not question why your son is naked and you’re not. Okay, let’s start… One.... you can feel your toes... Two.... your muscles can flex again.... Your breath getting back to normal... Three."

Dad's eyes flicked open with a suddenness that startled me.

"Fuck!" I gasped.

Dad shook out his muscles a little as he refocused on me. I saw him break into a huge smile. "Damn, buddy... looks like you couldn't wait to get me to bed, huh?" He stepped up to me and latched on to my naked muscle as he claimed a quick kiss then crouched down in front of me. Oblivious to the hypnosis he'd just undergone.

I was so primed and hard I had to pull Dad off my prick a couple of times when I was in danger of blowing too soon. And when I finally came, Dad coughed on the load, it was so heavy.

After he swallowed my load, we showered and he kept touchy feely with me, rubbing my shoulders, slapping my ass, and when we went to the living room to watch T.V., he grabbed my feet and rubbed them as he watched the highlights.

Once we went to the room, he asked if he could play with my cock again. I told him I didn’t think I had anything in me, "Come on buddy, one more go before I hit the hay."

I nodded and like a little boy on Christmas morning, he licked his lips and went down to play with his favorite toy. He sucked for almost an hour with breaks in between and when I finally shot, it was not much, but Dad happily drank it down, nevertheless.

#drakestories

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