Text
FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS - HAIKYUU!
CHARACTERS: Tsukishima, Oikawa, Atsumu, Kenma
SYNOPSIS: headcanons about when, how and why you became FWB
CONTENT WARNINGS: suggestive content, degradation, spitting, fingering, they're all complete and utter assholes
Author's note; This isn't smut but there's really suggestive content ahead, Feel free to request anything you want I'm desperate to write anything. This is a college AU but feel free to consider it whatever you'd like I don't really care. also I see you 13 year olds lurking, I can't really stop you but I'm obligated to tell you to stay away
TSUKISHIMA who had no sexual interest in anyone before he saw you batting your pretty eyelashes at him when you were at a party
Tsukishima who was friends with you way before college, way before you got so damn mature
Tsukishima who finds himself thinking about you day and night, waiting for the next time he'll be able to watch those tears prick at your eyes as he shoves his cock down your pretty throat.
Tsukishima who acts so so mean in bed, calling you his slut or his little whore just to be so so soft for aftercare
Tsukishima who spits on your pretty face when you go down on him
Tsukishima who gets jealous when he sees you with your boyfriend, fucking you in the nearest public space hoping you'll get caught and he'll have you all to himself
Tsukishima who always guards your drink when you're away
Tsukishima who acts soo mean so he doesn't get attached :(
OIKAWA who keeps his pretty girl a secret.
Oikawa who's an asshole that never lets you get a boyfriend but has had countless girlfriends
Oikawa who's mean to you in public, humiliating you in front of others but makes it up to you with those skillful fingers of his
Oikawa who makes you count how many times he spanks you if you misbehave
Oikawa who is so so mean in front of his friends but so sweet in bed
Oikawa who showers with you and washes your hair gently after fucking your brains out :(
Oikawa who makes you dumb on his cock if you flirt with any other guy
Oikawa who doesn't respect you enough to date you but still want his little angle to be all his
Oikawa who bullies your pretty cunt during class :3
Oikawa who always marks you up with love bites and scratch marks so everyone knows he owns you
ATSUMU who fucks you in the locker rooms before every game as a token of good luck
Atsumu who takes out his frustration after an argument with his brother on you
Atsumu who likes stuffing you full in public making you walk around with cum dripping down your leg :(
Atsumu who lets his brother fuck you every once in a while despite your protests (so meann)
Atsumu who takes you on dates but would never go out with you
Atsumu who makes eye contact with you when he's kissing other girls to get you jealous
Atsumu who brags about fucking you to his friends so they tease you when they see you
Atsumu who is just a huge asshole but you love him so much :(
KENMA who goes back to playing video games after frying your brain on his cock :(
Kenma who ignores you in public and pretends he doesn't know you but fucks you so so good after
Kenma who ignores you after you've had sex leaving your apartment immediately after
Kenma who lets you get off on him after he's came cause he's too lazy
kenma who calls you a slut for letting him use you :(
Kenma who does everything possible to not get emotionally involved
Kenma who is such a meanie calling you nothin' more than a warm mouth to him after you ask him to stay
I did everything I could to make them as mean as possible, I don't even know why I just felt like it :3
#haikyuu#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu smut#miya atsumu#tsukishima kei#tsukishima smut#atsumu smut#oikawa tooru#oikawa smut#oikawa x reader#kozume kenma#kenma smut#kenma x reader
125 notes
·
View notes
Text
My grandmother is so evil, this bitch like 😭😭, I'm even more pissed at my mom, cuz she always goes to help her, why do you keep on helping the woman who ruined your life? What's wrong with you? Leave that old hag to die. I wish she would just fucking die and stop torturing my mom. I hate her so much. She's the example of how a woman is a woman's worst enemy. I hate how kind my mom is, like STOP HELPING PEOPLE. UGHHHH. She's like a vampire, first she sucked off my grandfather's energy, and now is doing the same to my mom. You've always favoured your sons more, so go, ask them for help instead. Bitch. She makes me so angry, the fact that so many mothers treat their daughters the same way as she did my mother makes me so angry. How can you as a woman force your daughter into the disgusting circumstances that you were forced into as a young girl with her own dreams and ambitions. It pisses me off so bad. My mom has an IQ of 153, she got a full scholarship at MIT, Cambridge, but she decided to marry my mom off to this fucking idiot who failed 12th grade, this dumb fucking asshole, I hope he dies too, wherever he is. It hurts so bad, all the things she could've achieved, she wanted to study stem cells, and I know she would've slayed, maybe she would be famous, people would be studying her research papers, all that potential lost and wasted, all because her own mother was a fucking piece of shit who should've never had a child in the first place.
I'm so angry, angry at this world, angry at this stupid fucking society, angry at mothers, angry at women, angry at men, angry at those boy moms who think they're better just because they had a boy, angry at everyone, angry at my mom because she isn't angry enough, angry because that asshole who married my mom got away with no consequences, I'll kill him with my bare hands if I ever see him again, so angry, very angry, this society is so shit. I'm angry because I don't know even know what I'm angry at, where should I direct all this anger, I don't.... I wish I could stop thinking, the more I think the more it hurts. Every time something good happens, i think about my 10th grade friend who was smarter than me but got engaged last year to this stupid dickhead all because her parents wanted her to. She was very good at maths, wanted to study further but can't. Despite being so intelligent. I'm a good student but not extraordinarily good, and yet here I am, studying in a prestigious university, but it makes me feel so guilty, I'm given all these opportunities, I'm afraid of failure, so afraid, afraid that someone out there deserves it more than me. Afraid that I'm not really doing my best. I want to excel in all the things I do, to make up for all the girls my age who are not able to do so. Get good marks so that I can feel like I truly belong here.
24 notes
·
View notes
Text
.
Ignore
#delete later#im so exhausted and stressed. theres such a lack of stability and its freaking me out SO much. im just constantly tense and waiting#for something terrible to happen. im starting to think that im not gonna get to go to the entomology thing ive been hoping#how i can't do things independently and i must have been forced into this abd rhen it'll get cruel towards my friends abd i cant#and my aunt is getting worse abd my parents are waiting for me to fail abd have to move bsck with them which i can't do bc#to go to for months bc ill probably need to use that time off for preparing to move. which sucks. ive been looking forward to it#i was letting myself get my hopes up and that was a mistake bc now im rly disappointed. im hoping i can go but honestly#idk if it'd be financially responsible. same with comic con. its in october so i can probably go but it might not be a financially#good idea. it just. the things i was counting on to be stable sources of joy are not stable anymore and that's making everything worse#and im tryinh to be positive but im so anxious. theres just so much. i need to think about packing and try to figure out#how im going to move 1-2 hours away. how am i going to coordinate with movers whilst having to get the train to meet them#im disabled and cabt help move things so only getting one person ro deliver worries me. movers arent insured to take ppl with them#theres just SO MUCH. And i can't view properties easily bc of work so im missing out on multiple places that ive been contacting#ppl about abd i couldnt line up enough for last week when i was off bc it was too short notice and i just. its TOO MUCH TOO MUCH#im overwhelmed. im trying to think of the food im gonna cook when im there ahd the armchair im gonna buy#im gonna eat so much fucking lamb and fish oh ny god im excited for THAT#i wany to just go for the shittiest place to at least have some stability and bc i still have yhat kernel of thought that i dont#deserve comfort but im trying to fight it bc i do. i deserve somewhere nice and its unfair on myself not to find somewhere nice#especially as ill be living alone. i cant go for places that have no natural light or are four stories up or are a mile away from the train#station bc that will wreck my mental health and i wont have ready access to socialising that can stabilise me. gotta be fair#to myself. but THATS PROVING REAL DIFFICULT#im doing good saving though so thats nice i guess. fuck me moving is expensive. moving when you've got zero kitchen supplies is#even more so. gonna be an Interesting first couple days in the new place.#it will be. very bad. they keep texting me asking about it and i have to be positive bc otherwise itll become a conversation about#field all that shit when im like this. i just cant. that requires so much fucking energy i dont have. and i wont move back#id frankly rather die. and trying to not say that and decline politely sucks. bc they get the look of#oh we're not good enough huh#and i can't field their fucking feelings. i either need a pause button or a fast forward. id take either one#so many of these tags ended up out of order whoops. but these arent meant to be read anyway#i just need to scream bc idk what else to do
0 notes
Text
RASPBERRY PIE
minors dni. minho x fem!reader. 4k words content warnings. pet names (sweetheart, angel). mutual pining. sweet/shy reader. perv!minho. corruption kink. food play. dirty talk. oral (m rec.). soft!dom minho.
you bake your quiet neighbour a warm raspberry pie.
He's pretty sure he's utterly fucked from the jump – he finds himself attached so early he almost convinces himself you're a witch in disguise; that maybe he'd moved in next door to a creature designed to trap men like him. A siren, maybe. The sweetness was an act; all the soft tones and doe eyed looks were just a trick to lure him down beneath the waves.
He was determined not to drown.
And then you show up with the pie, a little flushed from working around a hot oven. It'd been 6 months – 6 months since he'd moved in, and as he opens the door to find you in an apron with little pink stains, a feeling of approaching and inevitable doom settles in his chest. Finally, you'd come to take him.
"Hi," you greet with a shy smile. "My friend brought me over far too many berries yesterday so..." you look down at the golden pie, carefully decorated and clearly still warm, "...well I made this. For you."
If he was wise, he'd politely decline, close the door, and never be faced with the reality of the sweet little siren in his apartment, offerings of temptation and all.
"For me?"
You look up at him through long lashes. "Do you like pie?" you ask. It's the way you say it, like if he doesn't you might genuinely hurt inside – like with a simple rejection of your offering, he had the ability to snuff out some little candle alight inside you.
"I like pie," he says.
Then you smile. Like it's the best news you've heard in weeks. "Oh, good."
He steps aside, his body betraying him. The siren enters with her warm pie and soft smiles – and he knows, unequivocally, that he's fucked.
He keeps his distance as you comfortably navigate to the kitchen to find a place for your offering. The apartments were all pretty much identical as far as he knew. The two on this floor, his and yours, were mirrored. He imagines that just on the other side of your joining wall, you took the same steps he did he each morning, in parallel.
You fiddle a little with the delicately placed raspberries atop the pie as he approaches from the other side of the island. You wear a tiny silver ring on one finger, much like one he wears on his own. He'd spotted it before, during short interactions in the elevator. He suppresses the urge to comment on it now, to ask if it meant anything to you.
He doesn't need to know you. He couldn't afford to. He was finding himself attached enough without it.
Then you pluck one little berry up in your fingers and bring it to your lips. He watches you. He watches you and he knows that he's walked willingly into a trap.
"Sweet?"
You look up. "Hm? Oh." You nod. "They're lovely. My friend gets them from this farm near his parent's place."
Friend. His. He sits in the feeling that stirs in his chest for a quiet moment. It's a rotten feeling. He doesn't like it at all.
"He brings them often?" he finds himself asking.
"Not at all. He just happened to come by after being there for a weekend. He doesn't go there often, I don't think." Your accompanying smile is almost enough to snuff out the rotten feeling before he has time to digest it. Almost.
Then he considers that this might not be the only pie. You may have made this other guy a pie just like it... maybe it was bigger, maybe you'd used the sweetest berries in his pie.
He kicks a cat toy across the floor as he stuffs his hands in his pockets, a little embarrassed by his own internal monologue. Witchcraft, turning his brain into mush.
"You have a pretty view."
He looks up to find you brushing your hands down your apron and rounding the kitchen island. You seem drawn to his floor to ceiling windows, a little moth to the light.
He follows.
"Mine isn't nearly this nice," you continue once he's standing beside you. "All I get is the construction site and a concrete wall." Then you close your eyes, head tilting back a little to let the sun's afternoon rays bathe your face. "Don't get the sun like this, either," you add, a little dreaminess leaking into your already sweet voice.
Oh, he's fucked.
"You like it?"
You blink up at him, eyes adjusting to the light again. "Hm?"
"I mean if you really like it, you're welcome over anytime, whenever." He wonders if this is part of your spell work, making him say stupid shit. Maybe he'd be better off if you were casting spells on him, if he had a reasonable excuse for being so fucking braindead. "For the sun," he adds, like it makes it better.
A small breath of laughter slips from your pretty lips. "It does get a little gloomy over there, on my side of the wall."
It was hard to imagine anywhere you were being gloomy.
"I should go," you continue after a short moment of comfortable silence, each of you basking in the sunlight. He really should appreciate that more, he notes. Then he considers the fact he'll associate this little patch of warmth with you each time he attempts such a thing.
"Sure," he says, following you from a safe distance to the door. "Thank you. For the pie."
"You're welcome."
Everything is fine. He's alone and he survived the encounter. Then he's faced with the pie. He stares down at it, warm and made with careful hands.
He plucks a berry off the top. He thinks of the berry you'd eaten in the same way.
Everything is fine.
He hesitates as he goes to pluck a second berry. Instead of lifting one from the crust, he presses the tip of his finger a little against the surface. Warm. He breaks through. His finger is coated in syrupy, red filling when he pulls it free. It's sugary sweet when he sucks it clean.
Shame. That's what he feels next. Because sweet gestures of neighbourly kindness should not trigger the kind of thoughts creeping their way into his head.
He wonders if the little siren's cunt is as warm and sweet as the little offering she brought him. He considers doing the right thing, having a cold shower and sitting in the morning sun with a slice of pie.
But apparently, today, and the day before, and every day for the past 6 months, Minho was not wise and he wasn't very good. Because he let the thoughts of his sweet little neighbour stew for months, and this is where it'd led him.
He stands there, one palm pressed flat on the kitchen counter, the other buried in his sweatpants, and he thinks of the sweet little siren with her sweet offerings, and he imagines sinking his hard cock into her warm, sweet cunt.
—
It's hard not to deflate entirely as you close your apartment door behind you. You'd expected too much from a single pie, you suppose. It would entirely out of character for him to ask you to stay for a slice, to take the opportunity to finally have a conversation longer than an elevator ride.
You sigh, dropping your forehead against the cool surface of the door. It helps a little. You're overheated, both from the cooking, the warm sun, and the heat that had bubbled up from the inside as the pretty - yet frustratingly reserved - man next door had watched you move about his space.
You hadn't lied, his apartment was far nicer than yours. You could imagine basking in that patch of sun any chance you had. You wonder if he does the same, if he sits there after a shower, chest bare and hair still a little damp - letting the sun warm his skin.
You leap back as a knock on the door jolts you out of your daydream. Sighing, you press your palm to your forehead - head thoroughly rattled - as you pull the door open.
Oh.
"Hi," Minho says casually. He's a little flushed compared to when you'd left him minutes earlier. He shouldn't be. There were no stairs between your apartments.
"Hello, again."
He glances over your shoulder, getting a clear view of your empty living room. "It is darker in here," he says, still casual.
"Oh. Mm, yeah. I miss your sun already."
His eyes fix back on you. Then he pulls his lip between his teeth slightly. He has something to say... something he won't say.
"Why'd you make me the pie?" he asks.
You blink. "I... had a lot of berries from-"
"Your friend. I know."
You're officially confused. His eyes drop down your dirty apron before returning to your face. "You only made one?"
"Is it bad?" you question.
He pushes some hair away from his eyes. "No," he says quickly. "No, it's... nice." His eyes sweep down your body again. "Sweet," he adds.
"I only made one."
His eyes jump to yours before a brief look of confusion flashes across his pretty face. He seems to remember his own question soon enough. "You didn't want to give it to," he gestures vaguely behind you, "your friend?"
"No," you answer simply. This entire interaction was drifting into territory you weren't sure you were ready for. If his questions got any more interrogative, you might find yourself wondering how to answer them in any other way than 'Oh, the pie? I baked it for you because I have a huge, embarrassing crush on you, even if you've seemed intent on not knowing me.'
"He doesn't like pies?" he asks.
You can't help following the path of his fingers as he fiddles with the chain hanging around his neck. They brush his skin as he strokes the metal back and forth.
"I... don't understand what you're asking me," you say as you pull your eyes from his neck. "Is something wrong?"
He readjusts his position in the doorway, pressing his hand to the frame and freeing you from the constant distraction at his neck. He leans over you a little like this.
God, he's pretty.
"You a witch?" he asks.
"I'm sorry?"
"Did you put something in it?" he continues, still leaning well and truly into your space. "Something to make me-" he cuts himself off, brows furrowing.
"Are you asking me if I poisoned the pie?"
His voice drops, like someone might overhear, despite you both being entirely alone on this floor of the building. "I'm trying to figure out why all I can fucking think about is how you might taste on my tongue."
Your head rushes, all the heat returning. Then your eyes drop to the floor.
"Look at me, sweetheart."
You don't. His shoes are safer. He was flirting. More than flirting. He wanted you.
His fingers guide your chin up, it doesn't take much, a nudge. "I'll leave if you want," he says. "Never mention it again. Just tell me what you want."
"Did you like it?" you find yourself whispering. "The pie."
His lips crack into a lopsided smile. It's tiny, but it's a smile. "Loved it, sweetheart. Sent me to heaven."
"Would you... would you like to come in?"
He nods.
You go to turn, to let him follow you. But then, instead, you take his hand and lead him in. He's warm. You imagine all the sun he gets over there must've absorbed deep inside him over time. Maybe he could leave some of it behind here for you - that heat might leak from him if your kept him here long enough.
He follows where you lead, his hand still grasped firmly in your own. You're not sure why you lead him to the sofa. You aren't sure what you're expecting next. It's why you find yourself simply standing beside the piece of furniture waiting for him to say something – to let go of your hand maybe.
Instead, his thumb begins brushing over your skin. He's quiet, seemingly unhurried to break the tension building.
"I asked my friend to bring the berries," you confess quietly, eyes focused on your interwined hands. Confessions were always so much easier with your eyes downwards. "I wanted to make something for you... specifically."
"Why's that?"
His thumb continues against your skin. He doesn't make you look at him like he had before.
"Because I... wanted you to - I wanted your attention."
You can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks, "So you baked me a pie?"
"I'm good at baking."
"You are," he agrees. Then his other hand reaches for the hem of your apron. He rubs it between his fingers a little. "Messy though."
You look down at the patterned splotches, pink on white. Then he releases your hand, taking that warmth with him. He only allows you a few seconds to miss it though. That same hand snakes around the back of your neck, skin on skin.
Your eyes are drawn to his without thought.
"Are you always messy?" he asks.
You nod, chewing on your lip a little.
He seems pleased with your answer, a small hum escaping his throat. "I like messy," he says, sounding a little far away. "Do you like messy, sweetheart?"
Your eyes drop to his lips, a little stained from your pie filling. "Yeah," you breathe.
He tugs you towards him before your have time to suck in another breath, attaching himself to you like he's starved. You can't help gasping a little into his mouth as he presses you into him with a hand to your back.
Holy fuck. Surely you'd wake up slumped against the door any second. Maybe someone hadn't just knocked on the door. Someone had opened it and knocked you out and you were dreaming about your pretty, brown eyed neighbour.
He groans a little before taking your lip between his teeth. No. No you were definitely awake. "So sweet," he mumbles as he releases you, his breath ghosting over your wet lips. "Can I have you?"
–
It's hard to keep his head on straight as you look up at him with those big sweet eyes. Can I have you? His stomach rolls as he waits for you to say yes. Please say yes. 6 months of denial and he was desperate.
You'd made that sweet little gift for him. Just for him. His little siren.
Then you're pressing against his chest, forcing him down onto the sofa. He looks up at you, at the stained apron and the hair sticking a little to your temples from the time spent making his pie.
Then you lower yourself to your knees.
Oh, fuck.
Your hands only have to brush his legs for him to get the hint. He spreads them, allowing you to shuffle closer to him – settling between his thighs.
Then you look up at him. "Can I taste you?"
He's keeping you. His head drops back as he collects himself. Then, "You want my cock in your pretty little mouth?"
You nod, fingers pressing lightly into his thighs.
Minutes ago he was fucking himself into his own hand imagining how warm you'd feel around him. Now you're between his legs, lips wet, asking to taste him.
He's careful to keep his eyes on you as he frees himself, intent on catching each and every reaction you make – he's keeping it all.
You're a little hesitant as you reach for him. "You're good, sweetheart," he encourages. "Touch me however you like."
It seems to be all you need. In the next second your soft little hand is wrapping around his length. His head drops back again as his eyes close.
It's a mistake, closing his eyes. He's not prepared when your wet lips press to the tip of him, soft and warm. He groans, hand automatically making a home in your hair. He needs grounding. He needs –
Your lips wrap around him. His little siren was sucking his dick into her sweet little mouth. His hips jump a little. "Oh fuck, that's right. You're all warm for me."
You hum a little around him. Then, you take him deeper. Hot little tongue dancing over his sensitive skin.
"Good girl," he groans. "Take it for me, sweetheart." He resists the urge to spill himself right here, right against your tongue. "Hm? You taking it for me?"
His hips jump again as he fucks himself into your hot mouth, wet and sweet and just for him. You'd wanted his attention. You'd come for him. Just him.
"You mine?" he gasps as he forces his head up to look at you. "You gonna let me fuck you?"
Your lips pull off him slowly, a little suction at his tip sending his head spinning. "Do you want to?" you ask, lips swollen.
He leans forward enough to begin lifting you, encouraging you to climb into his lap. Each hand rests at your hips as you settle yourself there, his leaking cock pressed between you.
"So bad," he answers.
You shift a little in his lap. He imagines you squirming on his cock.
"Me too," you confess. It's quiet, like it's bad.
Sweet siren.
"Sit on me," he instructs. "Want you to bounce on me, sweetheart."
You eyelashes flutter as you blink a few times, processing, deciding. Then you shift, reaching up under your dress and tugging your underwear down.
Something in his stomach stirs when he realises you were leaving the rest on, apron and all.
You grasp him in a soft hand, guiding him beneath your clothes – then you sink down. He's transfixed by the little sound that escapes your lips as you take him in. That, and the way your cunt feels squeezing around him. He might have to keep you for fucking ever.
Hot and sweet and wet and better than he'd imagined as he'd fucked himself against his counter minutes earlier. Better than any of the scenarios he'd dreamed up over the months he'd spent thinking of his sweet little neighbour.
You fall into him with a sigh once you're full seated, cock buried deep.
"Doing so well," he says, hand squeezing a little at the back of your neck.
You mumble something into his neck in response. He can't quite make it out, but he swears, it almost sounds like a tiny 'thank you'. He has to keep himself from filling you at the thought of it.
His hands return to your hips. You must take it as a prompt because you lean back from him enough to begin lifting yourself off him and dropping again.
It's slow at first, a little swivel in your hips, grinding yourself down into him.
The apron prevents him from seeing how his cock looks slipping in and out of your little cunt. He hasn't even seen it, that sweet little hole between your legs.
Instead, he feels.
–
It makes sense that a man as pretty as him would have the prettiest cock. One you wanted to taste. One that would have you slippery and ready to take him.
There's this vein that throbs in his neck each time he drops his head back with a groan. His neck. God you want to lean forward and bite into it. But he might not be into that. Next time, you think. Or the time after that.
God you hope there's a next time.
His fingers dig into your hip as you sink all the way down again. It feels a little like he's resisting, holding back.
"Minho?"
His head lifts, eyes a little glassy as he blinks at you. "Hm?"
"You can fuck me," you tell him. "However you want. I want you to fuck me."
He blinks again. His fingers dig into your skin harder.
"Tell me when you wanna stop. Just tell me," he says.
You nod. Then he's leaning forward and tugging you against him. His lips press to your skin just at the crook of your neck.
Then you're falling. He falls over you. Then he lets go. He presses you into the couch cushions as he drives into you, hair falling over his face. He's even pretty like this, with parted lips and brows slightly furrowed.
Your skin slaps together as he fucks himself into you. Messy, he'd said. He liked messy.
That's what he gets as he continutes to drive into you, as you begin to drip around him, as he fucks that wetness into you and over your thighs and then the sounds it all makes.... messy.
"Wanna fill you," he mutters. "God, I wanna fill you so bad. Wanna fuck my cum into your sweet cunt."
You squeeze your eyes shut as he continues, overwhelmed.
"You can take it for me, angel. I know you can. Sweet little thing made just for me. I knew it." He's muttering so much you're hardly sure he even knows what he's saying. His fingers are almost painful as they dig into your skin, like he can't hold onto you hard enough.
"Fill me," you gasp.
He eyes lift from where you join together to lock on your face. "Yeah?" he asks, a slight croakiness breaking his words up a little. "I'll make you all warm and sticky inside, hm? Just like your pretty little pie? That sound nice?"
Oh god. There was something inside you, something made for this – for him. You knew this was going to ruin you forever.
"Please."
He falls over you, then he bites. He bites into you as he floods you full.
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Hannie's 🦪 fixation
Part two of Hannie's 🍒 fixation
Part three -- fake text edition
Han/f!reader, friends who...play...together, Hannie begging reader, reader very soft-spoken | ADULTS ONLY, MDNI, I don't want teenagers reading my NSFW posts
“What?!”
“Please?” he asks with those big, sweet eyes boring into yours. “God, I love pussy so much. I'll make you cum, I swear! I don't stop until my girl is satisfied!”
“But, I…”
“You don't have to do anything for me, I swear. I'll jerk it while eating your pussy and it'll be enough for me. Fuck, I'm so hard, Y/N,” he whines, grinding his crotch against yours.
You.
Are.
Throbbing.
But your brain is such a mess you can barely answer him beyond the soft whimpers that leave your mouth as he rocks against you. Here he is on top of you saying such filthy things like he's casually offering to scratch your back for you, and you can't get the knot in your throat to go down no matter how many times you swallow.
“Pleeeeeease?” he asks again, laying down and resting his chin on your chest. He fully pouts, giving you his best, sweetest puppy dog eyes. And it works.
“Yes,” you sigh out, nodding. “You can… do that.”
Han smirks, sitting up so he's hovering over your face.
“Say it,” he says with a mischievous grin. “Say what I’m gonna do.”
If your face wasn't already burning with a vicious blush, it'd surely get redder as you sheepishly say “Eat me out while jerking yourself off.”
He scrambles to throw your blankets to the side and wastes not a single second looking over your stomach as he moves lower, pulling your sleep shorts and underwear off in one harsh tug.
“Oh fuck yeah,” he sighs happily, once against nestling between your legs. He uses two fingers to hold your lips apart and goes in like a man starved, lapping at your cunt with his dripping wet tongue.
Holy shit, you think. Was he drooling for it or what?
Your hips buck up against his face instinctually when he flicks his tongue back and forth rapidly against your clit. He chuckles at your body's reaction and stops, going back to licking long, fat stripes up and down, gathering your taste and feeling as much of you as he can.
When he feels that you've adjusted to the feeling based on the fact that your hips aren't bucking anymore, he goes back to your clit and sucks it into his mouth for just a second, just to get that squeak and jump reaction from you that he knew he'd get.
“Oh, fuck-- Hannie--” you moan, trying to look down at him. He's already watching you. When he lifts his head just slightly as he squirms and gets his hand down into his pants, you can tell he's smiling.
“You taste so good,” he mumbles, burying his face once again. He slurps the mixture of your wetness and his spit and swallows it down greedily. One of his fingers starts lightly tracing around your hole as his tongue works lazy circles around your clit, giving extra pressure as he passes over its hood.
“Oh, fuck,” you moan, reaching down to push his hair back from his face. “You're-- ahh-- you're really good at this.”
He hums in acknowledgement and flutters his eyes closed, losing himself completely in the swirl of his tongue and the flick of his hand working over his cock, which you can't see but you can start to hear the sounds of it as his fist gets damp from his pre-cum.
You play with his hair, lightly tugging and scratching his scalp as his pace increases, giving him non-verbal signals that he’s doing good.
“Hannie, I can’t,” you moan, arching your back and trying to roll your hips up into his mouth. “I’m getting close.”
He suckles on your clit, ignoring when you push on his head and get louder and louder, insisting that you’re getting too sensitive. One of his fingers slips inside of you and he curls the tip of it, tapping rapidly against the inside of your pussy on the back of your clit, quickly sending you over the edge.
You pull his hair so tightly while moaning his name and grinding up against his tongue. You swear you hear him moan into your pussy between his tongue flicks and slurps.
He doesn’t stop his suckling until your hands fall from his hair, almost as if the pleasure has completely overcome you and made you give up on holding yourself up.
With a few more long licks to collect your taste, Han removes his mouth from your pussy. The entire bottom half of his face is damp and shiny with your slick, but the real star of the show is the hazy look in his eyes and the way his tongue lolls out of his mouth as he reaches his orgasm too.
He whines loudly-- whimpering, even-- while his hand furiously pumps in his sweats.
I wish I could see it, you think through your clouded sex-high. I bet it’s pretty like he is.
“Fuck,” he breathes out, chest rapidly rising and falling.
This is it. This is it.
“Y/Nnnnnn,” he whines, turning his face into your inner thigh. “Ahhhh, fuck! Y/N! Y/n, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n, Y/nnnnnnnn…”
“Holy shit,” you sigh out, watching as his hand stills and his whole body goes slack as he tries to catch his breath.
You’ll let him do whatever he wants to you if you get to hear him say your name like that again.
masterlist
Taglist:
@krayzieestay
@raptorbait529
@whosanaanyway
@3rachasdomesticbanana
@yaorzu-blog
#han smut#han x reader#han x you#han x y/n#stray kids smut#stray kids x reader#stray kids x reader smut#han x reader smut#skz x reader#skz x reader smut#skz x y/n#skz x you
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
pairings: older!reiner x reader
warnings: smut 18+, age gap (old enough to be readers dad)
Congratulations
Reiner didn't typically consider himself the most neighborly. Sure he'd wave when in passing, or occasionally comment on his neighbors’ yard, but that was it.
It wasn't like him to walk across his lawn to offer help or introduce himself.
That was until he saw you, pout resting on your pretty lips as you struggled to open your door with the large box in your hands.
Maybe it was that he hit multiple aces while golfing or maybe it was your ass peeking from your shorts. Whatever it was it prompted him to approach you, offering to help you inside.
Any other time you'd have declined, aware of the horror stories of seemingly kind men but something told you to trust him. Maybe it was the prominent muscles along his six foot frame, or that he was old enough to be your dad. Whatever it was you accepted.
He helped you bring all of your boxes and furniture in. Happily rearranging your room for the third time and even helping you fix the wobbly leg of your coffee table before wishing you a good night and returning to his house.
That night he jerked off to the memories of you bent over and the small sounds you made when lifting a heavy box.
You talked with him once after that. When you finally settled into the house that was too large for one girl, you went knocking on his door to bring him thank you brownies, praying he didn't notice your eyes lingering on the prominent v-line of his bare torso before you finally handed him the dish.
Of course, there were the occasional waves whenever you two happened to pass by each other but your schedules rarely mixed. That was until he decided to take a day off.
While in the middle of mowing his lawn, he saw you leave your house, gown in hand, and dripped in colorful cords and stoles, your decorated graduation cap sparkling in the sun as you rushed to your car.
He thought about you the entire time you were gone, busying himself with housework, and keeping a close ear by the door. When he caught the sound of your car pulling in your driveway he immediately jogged his way over to you, stopping in the same place he first introduced himself.
“Hi, I just wanted to come over and congratulate you. I saw you this morning but you seemed to be in a rush” He smirked, hazel eyes skimming your bare legs that appeared elongated in the heels you wore.
“Aww thank you, I was, but I'd have loved to talk to you anyway” A nervous giggle escaped you. Despite the low interaction, you couldn't help but grow a small crush on your older neighbor. The sight of him in his suit or tight golf shorts being the star in all of your late night fantasies.
“Would you like to come over to have dinner? Today, or sometime this week? I'm sure you have some plans later but if not, I'd love to have you over.” He rubbed his beard nervously as he awaited your reply.
You did. But you were convinced your friends and family would understand that you just had to take up the opportunity to get to know your hot neighbor.
At least that's what you told yourself when you accepted his invitation.
And let him teach you how to cook a steak.
And maybe when you allowed him to pull you down onto his lap as you watched the sunset.
And definitely when he carried you up his stairs before fucking you senseless.
You lost count of how many orgasms you've had. The moment he laid you on his bed, his lips were wrapped around your clit, sucking the life out of you numerous times, and fingering your pink walls till tears stained your cheeks and you shook from overstimulation.
You thought you'd be safe once he bullied his fat cock into your aching walls. Surely a man of his age didn't have the best stamina, right? Wrong.
He quite literally laughed in your face at your disbelief when he fucked his first load back into your sopping pussy.
You'd never been so full, his tip ramming against your cervix whenever he fully pounded into you and the outline of his dick as he pressed down on your tummy having you drool.
“Rei, too much” You cried. Ass in the air and face buried into the mattress as he pounded into you from behind, hands tied back with your lacey panties. Whines barely audible over the slapping skin.
“Why are you complaining, bunny? Isn't this what you wanted? For daddy to ruin this pretty pussy” He whispered in your ear. The new angle reaching spots you never knew existed.
“Ouuu, yes, please, daddy” You whined, turning to give your signature pout. Oh, how you looked so pretty to him. Face stained with tears and your pouty, plumped, glossy lips looking so soft. He found it cute how you tried to convince him to let you cum.
“No” He pecked your lips before pulling out fully, only to ram his cock back in. A harsh slap landed on your ass cheek at the same time, red bruise forming on the brown skin from his previous spanks.
“Oh my gaaawd please, I can't hold it in anymore” You resisted against the restraints, desperate to slow his movements
“Yes, you can, princess.” He taunts, as he continued his relentless pounding.
You wanted to believe him. You really did as you tried to focus on anything other than the pleasure he was providing you. You tried and tried but nothing stopped the knot from snapping. A string of curses flowing from your pretty lips as your body found the strength to push out the clear stream of squirt, your walls clamping around his cock.
He hissed, unable to resist the pressure applied as his sticky cum decorated the insides of your walls, pounding into you before pulling out to watch it drip onto his sheets.
Confusion settled into your brain as he untied your hands and flipped you over, whispering praises into your ear as he blessed your skin with soft sweet kisses.
“Reiner, I'm sorry I really tried” You started
“I know, baby. I forgive you, it's okay. You did perfect” He engulfed you in a passionate kiss, tongues exploring the path down each others throats.
You were almost convinced he did, until he reached into his nightstand, pulling out a blindfold and a vibrator from the drawer.
“I thought you said you forgive me” Pout once again resting on your lips as he opened your legs, cool air stimulating your already throbbing clit
“I do. But even the prettiest of girls don't get out of punishment”
wheres my dilf neighbor??? also congratulations to anyone who graduated. nothing but love to my fellow class of 24 graduates. even if you didn't get to graduate or you're currently still in school I'm still proud of you nd wish you nothing but success in life. mwah <3
#aot x black reader#anime x black!reader#aot x reader#black reader#attack on titan#chubby reader#reiner braun#reiner x reader#aot reiner#reiner smut#reiner x black reader#reiner braun x black reader#aot smut#aot fic
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
She Likes a Boy (And I’m Not Just a Boy)
pairing: jordan li x fem!reader
summary: You and Jordan are friends with benefits, and Jordan is trying so hard to be okay with that. Somehow, they still fell in love with you despite their best efforts to not fucking do that. But you've only ever fucked them when they're a guy, so they assume you're only interested in them one way. Just like everyone else. You've never said anything to make them think any different so it's obvious, right? So they take what they can get. Which is only half. And they keep you at a distance, because anything else will kill them.
A/N: flashbacks are in all Italics. some smut.
gif credit: artemidosgifs and stannyramirez
“Oh shit, Jordie, wait-” You can’t catch your breath, legs shaking where they’re thrown over Jordan’s shoulders.
“Stop fucking squirming.” Jordan huffs, licking some of your wetness off your thigh.
Your vision is swimming a little. How long have you been in this position? Or in Jordan’s room? It’s hard to keep track of anything, when you’re with them. His tongue finds your clit again. Insistent, rough swipes. You’re too overworked now for anything gentle to even register. How many times have you cum now?
“You always taste so fucking good.” Jordan moans, voice hoarse and low.
He puts a hand under your back to press you further into his mouth. With only your shoulders pushed into the mattress you can’t move. Jordan’s eyes are always glued to your face when you fuck. As if he’s daring you to shy away from whatever he’ll do to you next.
Considering that his favorite thing to do is overstimulate you, you’re not sure the irritation is fair. What are you supposed to do when he’s made you cum four times and is still going? According to Jordan, the answer is simple: lie there and take it.
Lifting you up. Pinning you down. These are the solutions he’s arrived at. Jordan hates having to chase you just to give you the orgasm you begged him for in the first place.
“You ready for my fingers again?” Jordan asks, but it’s not a real question, because you don’t get to so much as gasp before he’s plunging three fingers into you again.
He’s rough as he rocks his fingers into that soft spot inside of you that always makes your eyes roll back into your head. He knows the angle you like him to use by heart.
“Fucking shit, Jordan!” Your hands fall into his hair, grip like a vice, and Jordan half moans and half laughs against you.
It’s the vibrations that send you over the edge again. The breath leaving your lungs in one rush as that coil inside releases and makes the world go white and your ears ring.
You come back to yourself slowly. Jordan hovering over you, pressing kisses into the side of your neck. You grasp at his shoulders, pulling him down so that he's laying on top of you. The weight is comforting after the overwhelming head rush. You still feel shaky. He goes down easily, wrapping one arm underneath you.
“I can feel you smirking, jerk.” You laugh weakly, hitting his arm.
“You soaked my fucking fingers. Think I'm allowed a smirk.” Jordan says.
He lifts his head from your neck and there's that smug look you love to see him wear. It's enough to make you ready to have him all over again. You settle on gently massaging his scalp.
“I'll tell you what you're allowed.” You tease, grinning at him.
“Hah! Always have enough energy to be a fucking brat, huh?” Jordan rolls his eyes.
You wrap your legs around his waist to bring him closer. “I've got enough energy to make out too! Gimme a kiss.”
“Fucking insatiable.” Jordan scoffs, but gives in. Because he always does.
It's hard to think when Jordan kisses you. He kisses like he doesn't need to breathe. Or be anywhere else but with you. One of his hands finds yours, locking your fingers together. You squeeze tight. Try not to imagine holding his hand like this outside each other's dorms. Because that only ever makes you feel empty afterwards when all the hormones from the orgasms should leave you floating.
You get a third wind when Jordan rocks his hips against yours and you feel he's hard again. You reach a hand between the two of you, grasping his dick to angle him back inside. Thank God for Supe refractory periods. You sigh when his tip pushes into you.
“Yeah princess? You want me again?” He tries to sound teasing, nonchalant, but he only sounds like he wants you just as bad.
You rock your hips so that he slides inside fully. Watch him tilt his head back and moan for you as you move. Hungrily taking in the way every sound shapes his mouth. You lean up to kiss at the underside of his jaw. You can't leave any hickies on him but you always kiss him like you want to. God you fucking wish you could. Maybe if you could leave marks people wouldn't chase after them so much. If everyone knew Jordan was yours. But Jordan isn't yours.
You bite him a little harder.
Jordan's hand finds your throat. You whine, the noise strangled against his palm. You go lax as he pushes you back into the bed. Gently. His fingers flex, a little tighter, and your eyes flutter shut.
“Gonna be good for me?” Jordan asks.
You nod your head frantically, legs dragging him closer. It's never close enough. No matter what you do.
“Yeah, I'll be good, Jordie.” You say the words he wants to hear, feeling your head go soft and thoughtless again.
“Fucking liar.” He grinds his hips into yours and chokes you harder when you clench around him.
You’d been fast friends, best friends, since the moment you stepped on campus and met one another as freshman. Talking to Jordan. Spending time with them. Everything that first year didn’t even feel like getting to know one another. It just felt like coming home.
You didn’t say as much to Jordan. They would have rolled their eyes and scoffed at how sensitive you were, if you had. But you knew they felt the same way. You were the one Jordan went to whenever they were sad. When they were excited. When they were coming into themselves, learning to love who they were after a lifetime of everyone else telling them not to.
You were the first person to see them. Before Brink, even, you saw them. All their potential. All their greatness. All of them, and Jordan had never forgotten that.
Jordan saw you too, in turn. You’d never felt like much more than a pretty face, before Jordan.
You were the type of beautiful that made people look twice when they walked past you. When you were a little girl you soaked in all the praise like a flower. Every: ‘she’s so pretty’, and ‘well look at her!’, or ‘oh wow!’ was nourishment to your little soul.
It would be impossible to pinpoint the moment you realized that was all anyone saw. Even once your powers manifested. Advanced healing, advanced reflexes, limited invulnerability, energy manipulation. You were the whole nine yards. Your parents, when you were thirteen, had sent a video of you using your powers off to Vought.
A man and woman showed up a day later in suits, wanting to meet you personally.
“She sure is a little looker, isn’t she?” The man had said, and he’d held your hand for too long before he let go.
They’d come prepared. With ideas for costumes. Which team of teenage Supes you should be placed with. If you should just go straight for television. The adults talked around you. Not paying you any mind as you stared at the costume that would reveal so much skin. You’d never worn a skirt that short before. You hadn’t been allowed, hadn’t even wanted to, really. If you’d come home from the mall having bought anything like that on your own, your parents would have blown a fuse. Now they just sat on either side of you, mile wide grins plastered on their faces.
All the voices faded to background noise. You realized maybe you were too young to be a superhero. You thought it would involve more... saving people. Running into burning buildings. Getting the bad guys. Saving the day. The people from Vought were only talking about magazine spreads. About what persona would fit your look.
“What about school?” You’d asked, quietly, and everyone in the room had turned to look at you baffled.
“What about school, sweetheart?” The woman laughed. “You’ll get a private tutor, of course. But your future is big. You won’t even have to worry about stuff like that anymore. Goodbye lame homework. Hello red carpets!”
You sat very quietly until they left. Your parents were more angry than you’d ever seen them, when you told them you wanted to wait until after high-school to pursue being a hero.
You knew telling them you weren’t sure you wanted to do it at all was off the table.
During high-school you noticed people didn’t listen to you. You would be telling someone about your favorite book; or talking about a movie that changed your whole worldview, only to realize the other person had been staring at your lips the entire time.
You stopped talking so much about things you cared about. No one listened anyways.
‘Bimbo.’
‘Airhead.’
‘Slut.’
Were all things you’d heard before you’d ever gone on your first date. Gotten so much as your first kiss on the cheek. High-school was lonely, and you couldn’t talk about it being lonely without sounding like an asshole, you quickly realized. The few friends you had would roll their eyes when you’d try and vent. You thought it was just playful ribbing. Friends tease each other. It made you feel included! Until you caught them mocking you behind your back to one another.
‘Look at me, I’m Y/N, and life’s so hard because I’m so pretty and popular. Is she fucking serious? Stuck up bitch.’
You stopped venting.
When you got to God-U, you weren’t sure what to expect. College was a chance to reinvent yourself. Even if you weren’t sure you wanted to be a Superhero you knew this could be a chance to find your people. Lifelong friends.
People who you could get coffees with between classes. Who would go to all your birthdays and want to be there. People you would spend hours on the phone with. Fall asleep studying together. Girls who might like you enough to make you their maid of honor. Guys who would high five you when you did something cool and not try to sneak a glance at your chest.
You were imagining it all as you unpacked your boxes. Your stomach twisting itself into knots. Living in a half world between excitement and dread.
Then you met your roommate and she gave you the look. The look you’d gotten all your life from girls, and you knew you’d never be real friends. Girls who looked at you like that kept their boyfriends away from you at parties. And they never shared the secrets that friends share because they thought you’d put them in a fucking burn book. The look alone almost made you give up and just go home.
You went for a walk instead, fighting back tears. That’s when you ran into Jordan. Literally, ran into Jordan. You knocked the both of you to the ground.
When they’d snapped, “What the fuck dude?” at you, harsh and angry and very them, you’d burst into tears.
It wasn’t the perfect way to meet your person. But you were glad you met them at all.
“Stop moving your eyes away from the screen.” Jordan says.
“I’m not allowed to move my eyes away from the screen?” You laugh.
“No, this part is really important. You have to pay attention. I wanna see if you catch it.”
You try your best to keep your eyes glued to the screen, as instructed. But you can’t help the way you keep glancing towards Jordan. She looks good. She always looks good, but right now you don’t even want to look away from her. The colors of the movie flashing across her face, blues and golds, make her look like a painting.
“Are you watching?” Jordan asks, and you smile at the excitement in her voice.
You look back towards the movie, wondering what she wants you to see so badly. You look just in time. A small detail catches your eyes and you gasp, reaching out a hand blindly to shake her in your own excitement.
“Did you see that in the background?” You shake her again, for good measure.
“I saw it.” Jordan laughs.
“That means that he killed the wife!”
“How do you figure?”
You pause the movie, ready to explain where you think the plot is heading. When you turn to face Jordan you have to take a deep breath. You don’t know whether you love or hate that look. Your feelings on the matter change day to day.
Jordan is leaned up into the arm of the couch, relaxed, and she’s staring at you with The Smile she wears sometimes. She started doing it a few months into your friendship. Back when you used to talk and then slowly stop. So completely sure that nobody wanted to hear what you had to say.
Jordan had asked you, back then, why you always stopped telling stories halfway through, or stopped talking about your day, or the latest book you’d read.
You wanted to lie, at first. Eventually you told a half truth, “I never have anything interesting to say.”
Jordan had looked at you for a long time. You were worried that somehow, up until that moment, they hadn’t realized how boring you were. But you acknowledging it out loud had made them think about it, and now they were going to ditch you for a friend who was interesting, funny, and smart.
Instead, Jordan had told you that she loved the way your mind worked, and she’d smiled The Smile at you, for the first time. You hadn’t known how to respond, to the words, or the smile. You turned the conversation back towards Brink’s latest class assignment.
Later that night you’d gone back to your dorm room and cried, but you’d felt happier than you’d ever felt.
It made you feel warm and soft that three years later Jordan still smiled at you like that. It felt like your cue to say anything on your mind, no matter how dumb. Green light means go. The Smile means talk.
“Well?” Jordan nudges you with her foot, still smiling, and waiting for you.
You shake your head to break free of the spell she puts you in, “Well, look at his sense of style for the entire movie. All his stuff is modern and sleek and then the first time we see his bedroom all the rest of the decor is in line with the rest of the house, except that one thing. All the camera shots are so purposeful and they lingered a little, after he walked away. They wanted us to see he was keeping a trophy. He totally killed her, didn’t he?”
Jordan pauses for a second and then laughs. “I don’t know how you always guess right. I didn’t see the twist coming at all the first time I watched it.”
“Secondary super power.”
“Connecting all the dots?”
“Connecting all the dots, yeah.”
“Y/N! Y/N, thank fucking god, you gotta come with me.” Cate grabbed you by the arm, rougher than she’d ever touched you before.
“I was on my way to class.” You tripped over your feet as Cate pulled you the opposite way you needed to go.
“Forget class! Jordan’s gonna get themself expelled.” Cate snapped.
“What?!”
“They’re beating the shit out of Peter in the locker room. Luke’s not on campus. I can’t get close enough to stop them-”
You’d broken into a sprint towards the fighting arena. You didn’t know what the hell was happening. Peter and Jordan had spoken maybe ten times to each other in all the years of attending the same university.
You’d never gotten anywhere so fast in your life. Andre was standing steadfast in front of the entrance to the boy’s locker room, a small group of other students standing outside. You could hear the sounds of fighting pouring out from the door.
“Back it up you fucking vultures.” Andre snipped. He might not have super strength but he was still Number 4, and could look intimidating when he needed to.
“Andre, what’s going on?” You pushed to the front of the crowd.
“Thank fuck Cate found you. You gotta get in there. Jordan’s gonna fucking mur-” Andre glanced at the phones pointed at the both of you, trying to record even a drip of gossip about top students trying to seriously hurt each other and lowered his voice, “Jordan is actually gonna fucking kill Peter. I’ll keep the crowds back. Get in there.”
You moved past him into the locker room and your jaw dropped at the state of the place.
You thought these lockers were bolted down. Apparently not. At least four rows of them were knocked to the ground, heavily dented. A water bottle refilling station had been crumpled to nothing, exposed pipe spraying water across the floor.
“Get off of me you fucking animal.” You heard Peter cry from further in the room and ran.
Jordan had shoved Peter up against the wall. You were surprised Peter was still conscious. He was lucky he healed so fast. You could see his black eye fading even as Jordan broke his nose.
“You fucking stay away from her. You understand? I hear you fucking talking like that again and I take the tongue out of your fucking mouth, you asshole.”
Peter laughs through a mouth full of blood,“Not my fault she gave it up so easy, Li-”
Jordan throws him into one of the last standing lockers and you see that they are indeed bolted into the ground. Evidently, Jordan throws stronger than Supe resistant steel can take. When Jordan moves to lift Peter out of the crater his body made in the downed locker you rush in between them, putting a shield up.
“Y/N?” You can see some of the anger fade from Jordan’s face, just a little, at the sight of you.
“Hey, Jordie. Think Peter has had enough.”
Jordan scoffs, “No, he really fucking hasn’t,” he leans around you to yell at Peter, who’s trying to push himself onto his knees, “He’s still running his fucking mouth!”
“Pussy whipped asshole-” Peter groans.
You glance at Peter on the floor, aghast, “Peter! Stop antagonizing, Jordan. What’s wrong with you?”
“Unbelievable, honestly. You walk in on Jordan kicking my ass and you tell me to stop antagonizing the fucker?” Peter huffs, pushing his nose back into place so it won’t heal wrong.
“Name calling isn’t gonna make him stop kicking your ass. I’m trying to help.” You shoot back.
“Well, no one needs your help, you dumb-”
“Hey.” Jordan interrupts. He’s not yelling anymore, but his voice is the loudest thing in the room. “Watch your mouth, Peter. I fucking mean it.”
You look back and forth between them. They watch each other for a long moment. Jordan looking eerily calm. Peter looks away first.
“Yeah, that’s what I fucking thought. Come on, Y/N.” Jordan grabs your hand and marches you out of the locker room. Past Andre and Cate, who try to stop you both but Jordan waves them off and muscles his way past the crowd too.
He doesn’t stop until you’re back in his dorm room and he’s shut the door behind the two of you.
“You were fucking that loser?” He asks, clicking the lock into place.
“You’re lucky Andre and Cate kept people out of the locker room so there’s no video of everything! You could get expelled, Jordan! What the fuck happened?”
“He hit me first and he’s not even in the top ten. What’s he at? Number 14? No one’ll give a shit what happens to him. When did you start fucking him?”
“I’m not fucking him! Or… I’m not just, fucking him. I’m… I was dating him. Why were you two fighting?”
“Dating? For how fucking long? You didn’t tell me you were dating anyone.” Jordan’s hair is already a disheveled mess. He yanks his fingers through the strands and makes it worse.
“We’ve been going on dates for like… three months? Kinda? Maybe.” You say quietly.
“Three months?! Are you serious? Why didn’t you tell me? What the fuck?”
“Why are you so mad?”
“Friends talk to each other about shit like this! And if you’d talked to me, I would have told you that Peter is a clout chasing piece of shit that’ll never amount to anything. You should’ve heard the shit he was saying today. Fucking piece of shit!”
“That’s why you were fighting?” You wring your hands together, a knot tying itself over and over in your stomach. “What did he say?”
Jordan stops pacing the room, goes still and turns away from you.
“Well? What did he say? It was bad enough to make you two beat the shit out of each other! So what was it?”
“He just… You don’t have to worry about it, okay? He won’t go near you again.” Jordan says firmly.
“Whatever he said he’s gonna keep saying. Just behind my back. I should know.”
Jordan sighs and moves to sit beside you on his couch, knee bouncing with anxiety. “He was… bragging to his shitty friends. About being the first guy on campus to fuck you. About how it didn’t even take that long and… how… he was thinking of recording you. So he could show them how slutty you are. It was…. fucking disgusting.”
“Oh.” You say.
You swallow around the lump in your throat. You’d done everything you could to avoid something like this happening. Had kept your dates off campus, to make sure he actually wanted to date you and not just the hot girl ranked Number 3. You’d spent nights staying up on the phone laughing and talking. You’d put off sleeping with Peter for a whole two months, even though you liked him, because you wanted to make sure he liked you.
You hadn’t even let him call you his girlfriend until a few days ago. You thought he really liked you. But no matter how hard you try… you guess this is it. You’re just something pretty to look at. Even Vought doesn’t take you seriously, despite your powers. You’re the top ranked student in everything. Right behind Jordan. Forensic analysis. Combat. Battle strategy. Still, you only ever get asked about makeup routines and how to maintain your figure in interviews.
You wipe at your burning eyes and try not to cry about something you’ve already accepted.
“Fuck that guy. Fuck him. He’s so far beneath your level I’m surprised you can perceive his plane of fucking existence, okay? He’s a fucking single cell organism. He doesn’t even know what a brain is.” Jordan gets up from the couch to kneel in front of you, tries to look you in the eyes.
“I’m so fucking stupid.”
“No, you fucking are not. Don’t say that about yourself. He’s fucking stupid. It’s genuinely insane you even wasted your time with him. Why didn’t you tell me you were seeing anyone?” Jordan asks, voice quiet.
“I just…. I wanted to make sure he was actually gonna stick around before I even brought him up to you. You’re so … important, why tell you about someone who isn’t? It’s not like you write home to me about any of the people you mess around with! We’ve never really talked about this kind of stuff.”
“Yeah, but it’s different. I’m not serious about anyone! You were actually dating, Peter. And I would have told you not to.” Jordan rolls his eyes.
“Well, I wanted to make sure it was serious. Before I even said anything.”
“It wouldn’t have gotten serious if you’d told me about it in the first place. I wouldn’t have let Peter within ten feet of you!”
“We’re talking in circles.” You huff in frustration, pressing your palms into your eyes to stop the stinging.
“Sorry, I just…. Fucking still wish I was beating the shit out of him, honestly.” Jordan says.
“You are not leaving this room for the rest of the day, Li. Even if he is Number 14, you can’t walk away from a fight then go back for seconds cause you didn’t get it all out the first time. That won’t hold up too well in court.”
“He heals too fast for there to be any marks left on him. It’ll all be hearsay.” Jordan smirks.
You let out a weak laugh. Jordan reaches out, touching the corner of your lips. “Can we shoot for something a little bigger? If I don’t see you smile soon I’ll actually go kill him.”
You roll your eyes and slide to the edge of the couch, so you’re resting your head on Jordan’s shoulder, leaning all your weight against him. He wraps his arms around you, rubbing circles into your spine.
“I really wanted it to work out, Jordan.” You mumble into the skin of his collarbone.
“With fucking Peter?”
“With… anyone.” Your voice wavers and Jordan’s grip gets tighter. “It’s so fucking lonely. I just want to be someone’s favorite person. Not because of how I look, but because they like me. Really like me. And no one fucking does, no matter how hard I try.” The tears start falling now and Jordan pulls back and makes you look up at him, one hand on your cheek.
“Hey, hey, don’t cry. I fucking… I like you. I’ve always liked you.” Jordan says, frantic as he wipes away the tears as they come.
“It’s not the same, Jordan!” You shake your head, and bite your lip. You’d almost said it’s not enough. Because it isn’t. But you can't think about that for too long. It makes the hole in you ache a little worse.
“Yeah….guess it’s not.” Jordan says quietly. He keeps wiping away the tears, dutiful and gentle as he goes.
“You said he hit you first?” You ask, after a long moment of him quietly soothing you.
“Come on, I’m not stupid. Had to let him get the first swing in.” Jordan smirked.
“What did you say to make him hit you?” You ask.
“Told him he was lucky you believe in charity work and giving back to the fucking needy.”
It’s enough to startle a laugh out of you. You smack his arm weakly before pulling him into another hug. He kisses the top of your head so softly you don’t notice it, too busy laughing.
“Y/N, good to see you dear. You keeping our Jordan out of trouble?” Brink asks as he comes out of his office, not surprised to see you perched on Jordan’s desk.
“Professor, we both know that I’m the one getting Jordan into trouble.” You flash the older man your most mischievous grin.
“Ah, my apologies. I assume that means you’re distracting her from doing her work, as well?” Brink raises an eyebrow teasingly.
“Yes.” You say.
“No.” Jordan protests, at the same time.
You throw your head back with a laugh. “It’s a goal I hold most dear to my heart, to distract Jordan from grading these papers. I think I’m succeeding wonderfully, you’ll be happy to know, Professor.”
“She’s joking, Professor.” Jordan smacks your thigh and you glance down just in time to burn the image of her hand on your thigh into your brain. She almost never touches you, when she’s like this.
“You know, Jordan, I didn’t happen to lose my sense of humor after I hit sixty.” Brink waves off Jordan’s concern and leans towards the two of you, whispering conspiratorially, “I know the gray hair gives the illusion of being a boring old fart, but I do like to laugh every now and then.”
Jordan shakes her head with a small laugh and you can’t help but watch, entranced, at the way her hair brushes the olive skin of her cheeks. When you look back towards Brink you find him already watching you, a knowing smile on his lips. You laugh nervously, and look down at the wood grain texture of Jordan’s desk. It’s suddenly fascinating. Is it real oak? Cherry?
“You close to being done, Jordan?” Brink asks casually.
“Uh-” Jordan’s face blanches and you suddenly feel genuinely sorry for distracting her from her work.
“-relax, kiddo. You’re not in trouble. Geez, what am I, a work nazi? Those papers don’t need to be graded for another four days, right? You work too hard. I was just asking cause’ I was getting a little hungry myself and wanted to know if you could use a break? There’s a great new Indian place nearby, apparently. Professor. Karp was telling me about it yesterday. It’s only a twenty minute ride away. Wanna tag along?”
“I should probably finish up a few more papers-”
“She would love to take a break, Professor.” You reach over, saving the work Jordan’s done and shutting down her laptop at lightning speed.
“Brat.” Jordan mouths the word at you quickly, so Brink won’t see.
You stick your tongue out at her, not caring if anyone sees.
“You should come along too, Y/N. Been awhile since we last caught up.” Brink has a twinkle in his eye that you can’t quite place.
You slide off Jordan’s desk anyways, not willing to pass up any valuable Time Spent With Jordan, “I’m not sure if I trust Professor Karp’s recommendation on restaurants, but I’ll try and be very brave about it if the food is awful.”
“Jordan, have I ever told you how much I love this girl?” Professor Brink shrugs on his coat with a laugh.
“Yeah.” Jordan watches Brink help you into your own coat with a small smile. “Yeah, Professor you have.”
“Fucking fuck me!” Jordan throws her phone onto the coffee table in front of her.
“Are the parental units being emotional terrorists again?” You ask from your spot on her bed, turning the page of your textbook, mindlessly highlighting another sentence that could be important for the upcoming final.
“No, it’s just the whole fucking roster is busy.” Jordan roughly runs a hand through her hair, disheveling her bob.
“Huh?” You look up from your notes.
“The whole roster is locked in for finals but I really need to let off some fucking steam!” Jordan sighs.
“How big is the roster?” You try to sound curious, like a best friend would be, and not irritated, like someone in love with their best friend would be.
“Too big for me to not be fucking someone right now.” Jordan snips.
“We are studying right now. Or I’m studying, and you should be studying too, instead of thinking about needing to get your rocks off.” You say coolly, flipping to the next page.
“I can’t fucking focus.” Jordan groans, but comes back over to the bed and flops down beside you, throwing her arm over her eyes. “What concept are we on now?”
“Theories on limiting public and private property damage in fights with other Supes.”
“There is no fucking way I can focus on something that fucking boring without having an orgasm first.”Jordan groans, again, “It’s not even about limiting loss of human life or injury?”
“Nope. Property damage.”
“Fuck me!”
You both fall into silence. You studying. Jordan, you assume, weighing the pros and cons of downloading Tinder. The thought makes your stomach drop.
Then you get an idea. An awful, horrible, no good, rotten fucking idea.
Your mouth is opening before you can stop yourself, “You could fuck me.”
“Huh?” You’ve never seen Jordan sit up so fast.
“I just mean- … we really gotta focus and I... I mean if you just need to let off some steam we could always…” You try your best to fumble your way into proper usage of the English language but even the thought of fucking Jordan makes that impossible.
“Are you serious right now?” Jordan shifts halfway through the sentence, eyes glued to your every nervous, jittery movement as you sit in front of him.
“Wouldn’t have said anything if it wasn’t a real offer.” You say quietly, not looking up from the book.
Jordan snatches said book from your lap and tosses it away, ignoring your noise of protest. “You don’t think it’d make things weird?”
“Weird was when I had to take you to get your wisdom teeth removed and you kept saying the green man was gonna get us while you were still high off the good stuff. Sex is just sex, right?” You try to say it casually.
“Would… would it be a one time thing?” Jordan asks slowly.
“It could be more… we could be-” You say, equally as slow.
“- could be?” Jordan echoes, voice sounding oddly tight and expression carefully blank.
The look is so strange it makes you panic, and if you’d thought of saying something stupid and desperate for one second like ‘a couple’, well, that look on his face is more than enough to send you straight back to reality on the ‘my-life-fucking-sucks’ express in no time flat.
“We could be like friends with benefits!” You blurt out in one breath.
“Oh.” Jordan says.
“It was just an idea.” You reach for the textbook again, which landed near Jordan’s thigh. You’re careful not to touch him when you grab it, or sound too disappointed, or heartbroken at the completely lackluster reaction Jordan has to the thought of having sex with you. “A stupid idea, forget it.”
“Why’s it stupid?” Jordan’s brow furrows, tone teetering on the edge of defensive.
“I mean…” You can’t think of a reason fast enough. “We’re probably sexually incompatible.”
“Why do you assume that?” Jordan goes from staring at you, to glaring at you.
You’ve always hated how once Jordan latches on to a line of questioning, you can’t get them to drop that interrogation for shit. A dog with a bone has nothing on a Jordan who wants an answer.
“I don’t… know?” You say, but it sounds like a question.
“I think we’d be compatible.” Jordan states this like he’d state the sky is blue or water is wet.
“Have you thought about it before?” You ask, bewildered.
“What, are you into something really kinky?” Jordan answers your previous question not at all.
“No!” There goes that nervous body language of yours again.
“Only way to really know if we’re sexually compatible is to actually try it out.” Suddenly, Jordan is within your personal space bubble.
You don’t really know how to react, your body freezes up on instinct. Jordan’s hand comes up to rub soothing circles into the crook of your elbow. Your shoulders fall away from your ears.
“Can I kiss you?” Jordan’s voice is quiet, soft as he tilts his head to knock his nose against yours. Playful, teasing. But the look on his face is something you can’t place at all.
You feel his breath on your lips and nod absentmindedly.
“Don’t want you to nod when I ask you a question like this. Yes or no, Y/N?”
“Ye-” The words not fully out of your mouth before Jordan is kissing you, a heavy hand pulling you closer by the nape of your neck.
You pull yourself into Jordan’s lap and try to focus on how good it feels when he nips at your bottom lip, instead of how much you wished you’d asked him to be your boyfriend. Or girlfriend. Partner. Everything. Even if he’d said no, at least then you would have had an answer. Now you’ve only made your life harder.
You stop thinking so much when Jordan puts a hand on your hip and guides you to grind yourself against him.
“Y/N’s right.” Jordan mutters, not looking up from his phone.
“No, she is not. You’re just agreeing with her because that’s your default factory setting. Listen to the context of the argument please.” Andre snaps, drowning his Vought Triple meat burger in ketchup.
“I did. Your grim dark theory on children’s media is lame, and Y/N knows more about the Monster’s Inc universe than you ever will.” Jordan shrugs.
“Hah!” You laugh in Andre’s face.
“Is it really such a flex to be an expert on the lore of a Pixar movie universe?” Cate asks teasingly.
“Yes.” You say.
“No.” Andre says, like a sore loser.
“I agree with Y/N, it’s literally in the explicit text of the movie, Monsters Inc isn’t a post-apocalyptic world. It’s a separate dimension from ours. The monsters come to our dimension to harvest screams of children to get clean, scream energy. God, Andre, pay attention during movie night.” Luke jumps in on the tormenting Andre train, grinning wildly at the other man from across the table. He gets a middle finger for his troubles.
“I’m glad someone pays attention to the intricate lore of the greatest movie of all time.” You sniff haughtily.
“I literally agreed with you first.” Jordan looks at you from over the top of her phone in a way that makes you blush.
“I’m glad two people are paying attention to the intricate lore of the greatest movie of all time.” You clear your throat.
“Thank you.” Jordan’s intense brown eyes fall away from you and you take a gulp of your drink.
“Bathroom alert, Y/N. A stall just opened up.” Cate tells you pointing to the bathroom door right as another girl exits.
“I am kissing you on the lips, telepathically.” You say, sliding from the booth you’re all sharing.
“Don’t you telepathically lip lock with my girlfriend.” Luke calls after you, laughing.
“Get some powers of telepathy yourself and make me, fire boy.” You enter the bathroom, shutting out the sounds of laughter from your table with a smile.
You take the biggest stall at the back and try to go about your business quickly. You hear two faucets turn on, someone washing their hands, and try not to get pee shy.
“So how was it?” A monotone voice asks, you assume one of the hand washers.
“You know I don’t usually kiss and tell, but it was insane.” A higher, more giggly voice answers.
“So they really are good in bed then, huh?” The monotone voice sounds a little more curious.
“Incredible. All the rumors are true. They’re a little… uh, brusque, about the after sex part, if I’m putting it lightly, but the sex itself was great!” The high voice chirps.
“What? Did they throw you a towel and tell you to kick rocks?” The monotone voice asks.
“Pretty much.” The high voice sighs. “But they made me cum so many times I think I’d still pick up if they called me again. You think they might?”
“I say this with all the love in the world: girl stand up.” Monotone voice drawls.
“You wouldn’t be telling me that if you knew how good it felt to sit on her face.” High voice says.
You stifle a laugh, trying not to get caught eavesdropping, but with Supe hearing it really is hard to mind your own business. Besides, they’re not being that quiet about the conversation anyways.
“I’ll have to take your word for it.”
“Or you could experience it for yourself. They were just as good as a boy as they were as a girl. Maybe better. I dunno. She was more aggressive as a girl, which was kinda hot.”
“Jordan Li, pussy eating extraordinaire. Can we go now? Our food is probably ready.” Monotone voice sighs.
“Fine, but I’m telling you, the things they can do with a strap are-”
The voices fade away with the sound of the bathroom door opening and closing.
You find you don’t really want to finish eating your food, when you get back to the table. You spend the rest of lunch trying your best not to look at Jordan, and also ignoring Cate’s concerned gaze boring into the side of your skull.
You pretend to be sick to avoid having to face the reality of Jordan being more than happy to touch other girls as a girl. They just don’t want to touch you when they’re a girl. You wonder what about you is so uniquely off putting. You wonder why it can’t be you. Why can’t it ever fucking be you?
Jordan barges into your room on day three of the silent treatment that you told the group chat was due to a raging fever.
Luckily your eyes, swollen shut from all the crying, and the red nose to match, corroborate the story.
“We got it all. We’ve got tissues. We got soup. We got pain meds. We got liquid meds. We also have all the ingredients for a hot toddy, if you want to mix your poisons a little.” Jordan begins to unpack everything onto your counter.
“I don’t want to take anything.” You say morosely, and a little mean, kind of wanting to hate them but just feeling sad. Jordan’s your best friend before anything else, and you could never hate your first real friend.
“Come on, just a little something. You sound fucked up.” Jordan practically coos, touching your forehead. “Feels like your fever’s gone down a little. Sit up for me.” He says, and pulls you to sit up when you don’t do it on your own.
“I don’t want to fucking-” Jordan puts two pills in your mouth as soon as you open it to bitch at him. He hands you water to help you swallow it down.
“Thanks for that. That was really fun for me.” You snap once you’re done.
“It’s for pain and should bring down the rest of your fever.” Jordan lays you back down, tucking the covers all the way up to your chin. You marvel at the way he doesn’t rise to the bait of your very clear attitude. Jordan, catching the look on your face offers you a small glare. “I’m worried. You usually don’t get sick. I’ll check that attitude when you’re better. Now, do you want the damn hot toddy or not?” He rubs your head soothingly.
“Yes, please.” You try not to pout as you watch Jordan make the drink for you. You really hate how hard it is to hate them. “Sorry, Jordie.”
“Oh, you can go ahead and save that apology for when I make you cry into your pillow, yeah?” Jordan doesn’t even look up from measuring the ingredients.
You pull the covers over your head and leave them there until Jordan pulls them back down.
You almost hadn’t come to the party.
You weren’t in a partying mood, as of late. You were in more of a Shakespearean pining era than a City Girls one. But the group had bullied you in the group chat for a week straight until you’d promised to come. The group bullying hadn’t worked so much as Jordan asking you one single time to go had.
So here you were.
You’d been nursing one drink for the better part of an hour and hadn’t done a single line of cocaine. Jordan had offered you some, but the line had already been placed on the back of his hand. You politely declined, much to his confusion. You only ever did hard drugs with Jordan, and only at big rager parties like this one.
At the moment you’re nearly sober. Because you didn’t so much as want to touch Jordan right now. Let alone do something like snort a line off of him. Then you’d have to do something like lick the residue off his skin. Which would lead to kissing him. Which would lead to making out with him. Which would lead to fucking him.
And you think, for the sake of your sanity, you need to be done fucking Jordan Li.
It’s been about three weeks since you were “sick” and you’d dodged every attempt at getting physical that Jordan tried to initiate since. At first you were able to pass it off as still feeling icky. That excuse worked for a week. Now, you didn’t hang out alone with them and pretended not to see Jordan’s ‘you up?’ texts until morning.
Your friendship just needs a hard reset. This time spent not having sex will do it.
Besides, it’s not like Jordan isn’t swimming in fucking choices. What does it matter if you’re one less body off the menu? There are plenty of hot girls at this school. Jordan’s probably already fucked half of them.
You throw back the rest of the drink you’ve been nursing all at once.
“Are you okay?” Cate puts a hand on your arm and you offer her a blinding, completely fake smile.
“Yeah!” You say, as chipper as possible.
“Jesus christ.” Cate replies, face going all sad and concerned. “What did Jordan do?”
“Huh?” You blink, confused.
“You are the most pissed off I’ve ever seen you. What did Jordan do? You’ve been avoiding them for like two weeks. What gives?” Cate pulls you closer by the arm so that she doesn’t have to shout over the music.
“Nothing!”
“Can you try to lie again but do it better, this time?” Cate frowns.
“Jesus Christ, does everything have to be about Jordan? Must my whole entire goddamn life revolve around Jordan Li?” You snap, the way someone who isn’t mad about anything does.
“Okay.” Cate says slowly. Like she’s trying to placate a wild animal.
The tone alone makes you roll your eyes and move to disappear back in the crowd of drunk twenty-somethings. But she firms her grip on you, the leather of her glove digging into your skin.
“Y/N-”
“I’m fine, Cate. I just have to get over it.”
“Get over what?” Cate narrows her eyes at you. That shrewd look she sometimes wears when she knows something before someone else falls onto her face.
You wonder if you’re completely transparent about your pining or if Cate missed a dose of her medication. Is she starting to hear the buzzing of your frantic, angry, miserable thoughts? Or is she just naturally perceptive?
“So, this is where the real party is hiding!” An arm is thrown around your shoulders suddenly and you are careful not to sigh, because Jordan may not be as perceptive as Cate, but they’re pretty damn close. Especially when it comes to you.
You’ve never moved away from them holding you close like this before, so you can’t do it now. You try to just be still. Don’t lean into his warmth, but don’t cringe away either. You probably used to melt against him, when he touched you. Pathetically. Desperately. A sunflower following rays of light across the sky.
“-Princess?” Jordan gives you a gentle shake and your head snaps to the side to look at him. “You okay?”
“Yup!” Apparently, you didn’t say that convincingly because he starts to scowl at you. Surprisingly enough, the thought of withstanding a Jordan interrogation does not make you want to be at this party for much longer. “I’m gonna head out, though.”
“What?!” Twin exclamations of confusion form Jordan and Cate both.
“Not feeling it. I think I need to get some more sleep. I got a headache, or… something.” You shrug.
“Or something?” Jordan echoes.
“You are not going anywhere, yet, dear friend.” Andre throws his own arm around you, appearing from thin air, and tugging you away from Jordan. You’ve never been more grateful to him.
“How do you figure that?” You laugh.
“We’re about to play truth or dare in the other room and you dodged playing last time. You can leave after you’ve played. You can’t get known as the truth or dare dodger.” Andre says.
“You say that as if being a party game dodger is like being known for dodging the Vietnam draft.” You snort.
“No, it’s worse. People that dodged the Vietnam drafts are heroes. Truth or dare dodgers are cowards. Come on.” Andre begins to drag you towards the other room and you go along with minimal dragging of your feet across the floor.
The room is crowded, but all the faces are familiar. They’re all within the top twenty, or the groupies that hang around everyone in the top twenty. You pull Andre across the room to a spot on a raggedy couch you have to squeeze the both of you into. No room for Jordan, who you want to avoid. Or Cate, who is too fucking perceptive.
You wish you’d grabbed another drink for yourself. Jordan winds up across the room from you, in an optimal position for trying to catch your eye and give you a concerned look every ten seconds.
This does not make Truth or Dare more fun to watch.
Vulgar dare from one classmate to another. Forcing someone else to admit an uncomfortable truth. One humiliation after the other. Pick your poison on whether you want to debase yourself through the damnation of your own words or a physical act. All challenges of self-mortification being doled out by people who secretly don’t like each other very much, but all call each other friends anyways.
“Earth to Y/N the space cadet.” The girl sitting next to you gives you a playful shove. You try not to glare at her. Her name escapes you. You think she hangs around with number 6. Or something.
“What?”
“Cate picked you. Truth or dare.” She says the words ominously, causing teasing jeering to rise from the entire group.
“Well, Y/N, what’s it gonna be?” Cate raises her eyebrow at you challengingly.
“She doesn’t have to play if she doesn’t want to, guys.” Jordan rolls his eyes.
“Dare.” You say, wanting to get this over with.
The room erupts into excited noise. You don’t know why. Cate, of all people, would never force you to do anything humiliating. Or truly scandalous. It’s why you trust her enough to say dare, instead of truth. But you never pick dare, because anyone else would abuse the power. Everyone looks too eager to see Number 3 do something embarrassing.
As if Cate isn’t your closest friend beside Jordan. As if she’d abuse the trust you place in her. It makes you sick. You don’t wanna be here. At this party, or at this stupid fucking school.
“I dare you…. to kiss the prettiest girl in the room.”
“What?!” Jordan turns to give Cate the nastiest, most disgusted glare you’ve ever seen.
“She doesn’t have to do it if she doesn’t want to. You know I’m all about consent.” Cate shrugs innocently, crossing her legs together and giving you a smirk.
You sit for a second, contemplating your next move. There are plenty of pretty girls at this party. In this room. If nothing else, the top twenty and their groupies are photogenic (hell, some of them are only in the top twenty because of their looks to begin with. You hope you’re not one of those.) But there’s only one girl you want to kiss at this party.
There’s only one person in the world you want to kiss at all.
You take a shaky breath, feeling like the walls are closing in. Andre nudges you subtly, catches your eye, as if to say: ‘you okay?’ but there’s something else in the look too. Something that says it’s not just Cate, who knows. Probably your whole friend group knows how you feel. Probably the whole school. Probably anyone but Jordan sees it. And Jordan probably does see it, because they’re too fucking smart not to, and they’re choosing to ignore it. Because it’s easier that way. Because your feelings are probably too inconvenient. Because you’re not their type. Because you’re clingy, and stupid, and not good enough-
You stand up. The room is a wall of noise, and smell and sound pressing in on you. You see Cate smirk. You see Jordan looking away. You see every girl in the room sit up straight. Delusional, if they think any of them could ever be anything, compared to Jordan.
You walk past every other girl in the room, and stand in front of Jordan, who still isn’t looking.
You kick his ankle with the toe of your heel, to get him to look at you. His head snaps around, the curls of his hair sticking to his forehead, and he looks comically confused. And it’s really too fucking much, for someone as smart as Jordan to look so confused. So fucking baffled, about what’s happening here. But it’s a pretty convincing act. That only makes you more angry.
You make an impatient motion with your hand. A ‘do it already’ movement of your wrist. The same way you’d crossly signal for another driver to go first at a fucking four way stop.
He just blinks up at you, owlish.
"Well? Are you gonna let me kiss the prettiest girl at this fucking school or what, Li?" The room has gone a little quiet, or maybe the blood is rushing in your ears so bad everything is quiet in comparison.
Jordan stares up at you for a moment longer than is comfortable. And you really start to feel the eyes of everyone in the room on you. You don’t let yourself shy away from the attention. Not Jordan’s, not anyone else’s. You straighten your spine and look down your nose at him, and tap your foot. Try to look like the mean girl everyone expects you to be because no one cares who you actually are.
As if you could care less if Jordan leaves you stranded right now. As if it will be their loss, if they don’t kiss you, instead of the worst moment of your entire life.
Jordan shifts.
You try not to think of how desperate you must look, when you reach out at a speed that isn’t human to hold her face and angle it up, so you can finally fucking kiss the girl you love.
You wish you could kiss her like it didn’t mean anything. Like she’s nothing. Like you hate her. But you don’t know if this is the only time you’ll ever get to kiss Jordan when she’s your girl, and not your boy. This might be the last time you kiss Jordan ever.
It has to be.
You close your eyes tight. Try to ignore the way they’re stinging. You kiss Jordan slow and tender. The way you’ve always wanted to. You tangle a hand in her hair, to bring her closer. You try not to marvel at the way the longer strands tangle in your fingertips. She gasps against you, and her hands find your waist and you are too sober to cry over Jordan touching your waist above your clothes. Like a fucking middle-schooler.
But the tears start falling anyways. You let out a quiet sob against her lips that you try your hardest to stifle, and Jordan may not have kissed you like this before. But she’s kissed you plenty. She pulls back, startled, like an animal. Big brown eyes full of concern.
And the spell is broken, and you are standing in front of about thirty of the world’s worst, most unsympathetic human beings, crying, because you kissed your best friend who doesn’t want you back.
You’ve got ten seconds to leave before someone pulls out their phone and records you. If they haven’t already started.
So you run.
Through your tears the layout of the house becomes unfamiliar. You try to hide your face a little, and hope people don’t recognize you as you pass them by, sobbing openly.
Years of pent up feelings are bubbling out of you. The relief. The grief. The way you hate yourself for falling in love with the only person who has ever loved you. Wondering why you couldn’t just be grateful for the kindest, most understanding friendship you never even thought yourself worthy of. Why couldn’t that have been enough?
Why did you fall in love with them?
A hand closes around your wrist and you try to yank yourself away but you’re pulled into a bathroom and the door slams shut behind you.
You wipe your eyes so you can see who’s tried to save you from embarrassing yourself any further.
It’s Jordan. Because of course it is.
You burst into tears again.
“Are you fucking drunk? What the fuck was that? Y/N what the fuck is happening right now?” Jordan sounds on the verge of a mental break.
She’s probably wondering what type of things people are gonna start saying about the two of you on social media. She’s probably mad at you for giving her a PR mess to clean up.
“I’m not drunk!” You protest, sounding a little like someone who might be drunk.
“Are you high? What did you take? Lemme see your pupils.” Jordan reaches out to grab your face and you swat her hand away.
“No one fucking drugged me, Jordan. I’m just a stupid fucking idiot who’s in love with you! There! Are you happy?! Why don’t you go laugh at me with one of your stupid fucking girlfriends. You’ve got so fucking many of them.” You wail, sinking down to the floor, and hiding your face in your arms.
The room goes quiet, besides the sound of you crying. Loudly. You think you might be having an anxiety attack. You can’t breathe right. But maybe that’s just from the heaving, toddler-like sobs.
“You’re in love with me?” Jordan asks, quietly.
“As if you don’t know!” You snap your head up to glare at her. She kneels down in front of you, and puts her hand on your knee and you try not to get distracted by how pretty she is. “I follow you around like a puppy dog. Like your little shadow. And everyone notices except for you, because you don’t want to notice, because you don’t fucking want me. I got the message, Jordan. I got it!”
“What message?!” Jordan grabs you by the shoulders, voice fraying at the edges, and looks like she wants to shake you.
“You don’t touch me!” Your voice raises to the edge of a yell, and the sound of it echoes in the small room.
“What are you fucking talking about-”
“-don’t be cute, Jordan. You don’t touch me when you’re a girl! I thought… I thought it was maybe just that you didn’t touch girls when you’re a girl but it isn’t. Apparently you have plenty of fucking girls that you touch and fuck, when you’re a girl. It’s just me, that you don’t! What’s so fucking bad about me? Huh? What’s wrong with me? Why don’t you want me?” You demand.
You think you might sound like an insane person, and you wish you could pull the words back in but the hurt is bubbling out. A river relishing that first burst of freedom when a dam breaks, no matter how much damage it causes.
Jordan is staring at you like you’ve grown two heads. Mouth agape. You wish you were dead, a little.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Jordie.” Your voice goes small, and you sniffle. “I really tried to stop. But I can’t, I love you. I’ve probably loved you from that very first day. Because you’re wonderful, you’re the most wonderful person I’ve ever met and I don’t know how anyone…” You trail off, fanning at your eyes to try and pull yourself together. “...I don’t know how everyone else knows you without being in love with you. I wish I wasn’t in love with you, please don’t be mad, please don’t fucking-” You sob, again.
You find yourself pulled into Jordan’s lap this time. It’s a foreign feeling, to be touching so much of Jordan when she’s like this. You bury your face into her neck and cry, and let her black hair block out the fluorescent lighting. She shushes you, cheek pressing against the side of your head, and that’s familiar. The way she soothes you. Your hands wrinkle the fabric of her jacket, clinging to her tightly.
“I’m sorry. I can get over it, I promise. I just needed to tell you. I’ve never kept anything from you before. It was killing me, but I can get over it, Jordie, I promise-”
“Hey, hey, hey, no-” Jordan’s turning you to look at her suddenly. “Don’t fucking… I’m not… I’m not mad at you or fucking… gonna leave you, Y/N. What the fuck? I love you.”
You could start crying from the relief of hearing those words come from her lips again. You thought she wouldn’t ever speak to you again. She grabs you by the chin and kisses you, hard, your teeth clink together and your noses mush and you go completely still and frozen, like a scared deer.
“I could see the words not fucking register in your brain the way I meant them. I am in love with you. Romantically.” Jordan barely pulls away, you feel her lips brush against yours, every other word.
“What?”
Jordan laughs, “Good, now you’re just as confused as I fucking was. Why the fuck wouldn’t I want you? I’ve always wanted you. You’re…you.”
“I’m me?” You echo.
“I didn’t…. I didn’t want to make you feel… like everyone else has. Like I was just fucking waiting around for a chance to date you. Or fuck you. As if your friendship doesn’t fucking matter. Or was a consolation prize, if I couldn’t get you to date me. It isn’t a consolation prize. It’s the most important thing to me in the fucking world.” Jordan laughs, and the sound is suspiciously choked up.
“Oh.” You say, and are crying. Again. Jordan laughs and wipes the tears away with her thumb.
“But what about when we started having sex? You still… never touched me when you’re like this.”
“You’ve never said anything about liking girls.” Jordan says quietly.
“You’re not just a girl. You’re the girl. And guy. ” You say, holding her hand against your face and kissing her palm fiercely. She laughs again, and puts her forehead against yours.
“So what? I’m the one girl you’re into?” Jordan raises a brow and doesn’t look very happy saying the words, oddly enough.
You tilt your head trying to puzzle out why, slowly, you arrive at a conclusion. “I literally talk about girls all the time.”
“When?!”
“I’m constantly pointing out pretty ones!” You snap.
“I thought you were just being sweet!” Jordan snaps back.
You close your eyes and breathe in the smell of her cologne.
“You make me so angry I don’t know how to think.” You say, and kiss her bottom lip softly. “You’re not an… experiment, if that’s what you’re asking. You’re the…” You trail off, realizing this is not one of your romantic daydreams where you’ve thought of the words you’d tell Jordan over and over again.
In real life you can’t tell people that they’re the love of your life if you aren’t their girlfriend. Unless you want to look crazy.
Jordan, who is your best friend, before she’s anything else, melts. Because she knows you well enough to know what you aren’t saying.
“Yeah.” Jordan nods, sniffling once and trying to look very tough even though her lip is quivering a little. “I… I love you too. Or whatever.”
“If it makes you feel better I’ve slept with other women before, to make sure I wasn’t just in love with you.”
“Weird fucking thing to tell me after I say I love you, but go off.” She glares at you.
“I think you could do with feeling a little jealous. Why am I hearing stories about how good you are at fucking other women while I’m trying to piss at Vought Burger in peace?”
“What?” Jordan’s brow furrows.
“Three weeks ago I heard-”
“-I fucking knew you’ve been mad at me!” Jordan grabs your waist, pulling you closer.
“You would have been pissed too, if you heard the shit I was hearing!”
“If I hear anyone talking about fucking you ever again I’m going to go to prison.”
“Hot.”
“Shut up and be my girlfriend.”
“Shut up and be my everything.”
“You’re gross.” But she kisses you, and it’s gentle, and no one else is there to see it.
And it’s perfect.
A/N: this is my first time doing full on smut for a fic! it beat me the fuck up. if you enjoyed this fic consider reblogging, leaving a reply, or an anon! a writers fuel is engagement. and this fic took too damn long to write. xoxoxo
#jordan li x reader#jordan li imagine#black!reader#hey bee are you ever gonna do a non force field power having reader?? great question! answer is no adjkl#forcefields are THE coolest thing you can have#aside from the song she likes a boy i was thinking of hate that i love you rihanna and neyo while writing#if you see a fucking grammer error point it out i need to get this posted so i can MOVE ON adjkl this one has been kicking my ASS
1K notes
·
View notes
Note
Kidnapper Price?
He has a system.
Wake you up an hour after his alarm - he is careful to slip out of bed without waking you, but he is also strict whenever you're trying to beg for another five minutes. He would bring you breakfast, waking you up with the prospect of eating on your own - you were a good girl the past month, ever since he threatened to cut your shins if you ever tried to live again - so you could eat without his hand wiping on your face and holding the spoon.
You munch on a French toast - it got better with every attempt. This man had to learn softness in order to stop scaring you. Had to watch those dumb reels and try to whip out a palatable dessert for you, hoping it would make you at least a tiny bit more interested in having him. He kisses you on the forehead and his beard scratches your skin - it's better this way, you think. Makes you remember you can still feel something other than the endless softness of the pillows. Makes you bury your face in the sheet and only let go when his nudges on your shoulder become stricter.
He is a captain, and it took a while for Price to remember that civilians aren't good at following orders. You would give him half-assed hugs and soft mumbles instead of clear and nice "love you, please come back safe" as he wanted, and he had to stop himself from lashing out. You don't deserve this, and he has to be patient, even if he thinks you would benefit from a strong hand. John reminds himself - that he is training a new soldier and he is trying to get himself a wife.
He has a strict timing for everything, his therapist would probably talk his ear off about being a control freak. Not his fault he has way too many enemies. It's not his fault that he needs a pretty girl next to him, his to mold and control. He would kiss your cheek before giving you a moment to yourself, and he would drag your body for a daily weather forecast. Never the news - you're fragile, he thinks, too fragile to even watch a show about some poor senior getting robbed. You would curl on the couch with a bowl of popcorn - he is microwaving it himself, sneering at your desire for snacks when he could order something actually filling. You'd let him absently pet your head as he speaks to his boys about something - missions, retirement, coming back to work. You don't want him to go on missions because it would mean spending your days in the bed again, with some of his friends to watch over you - and you don't like his friends.
Price would call you a little siren as you'd crawl on his lap and push your face under his stubby chin, kissing-biting the side of his neck. Sloppy kisses and puppy licks up his face, down his collarbone. Until he is finally had enough with being a chewing toy, and agrees to stay for another week. Starts talking about taking his leave and finally cashing on the pension. Maybe opening a car shop.
You drop your pussy all over his lap, forcing yourself to rub over his crotch and make him forget about the phone call. He knows what you're doing - and he knows it's still much better this way. He can fuck you stupid for trying to defy him later - he will indulge you for now, putting a firm hand on your ass and giving you a squeeze. You've done good as his captive wife, he is just trying to see whether you'll be as good as a regular one.
446 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘺𝘶 𝐹𝑖𝑐 𝑅𝑒𝑐𝑠
♡ Fluff || ୨୧ Angst || ★ Smut || ꗃ SMAU || ⌗ Series || ✿ Drabble || ♤ Suggestive (No smut) || ✹ Humor
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ The other woman ♡୨୧♤⌗ -> @idyllic-ghost Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3
synopsis: you're married to wonwoo, but his parents desperately wants him to have a child - which you cannot have. he gives into his parents wishes and meets the other woman, whom he eventually agrees to marry as well. you're left heartbroken for a few years, seeing the man you love build a family that you had always wanted, but happiness is on the horizon as you meet someone new.
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Love and warmth ♡୨୧♤✹ -> @viastro
synopsis: in which you blackmail your employee, mingyu, to marry you in order not to get deported back to canada due to your expired visa. [based on the proposal]
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Sugar and you ♡ -> @97-liners
synopsis: in which mingyu is an idealistic pastry chef, and you’re a cynical wedding planner who doesn’t believe in love.
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Dry Humping ★ -> @undermoonlightst Part 1 , Part 2
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Parties, Yachts and Wishful thinking ★ -> @ithinkilikeit-reactions
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Hot or cold ♡ -> @jjuniehao
synopsis: when looking for something on his phone, you find an email you didn’t expect…
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Honey boy ♡୨୧★ -> @chocosvt
synopsis: when you graduate high school, you realize you’re not really going to miss anyone, apart from a cute boy who doesn’t even remember your name. five years later, after accepting an offer to pass the summer at a friend’s lake house, he’s standing right in front of you. the universe doesn’t give second chances very often. you’re not going to let the honey boy slip away twice.
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Puppy love ♡୨୧★ -> @smileysuh
synopsis: Mingyu is stuck in the puppy love phase, he can’t get enough of you, and can’t seem to grow out of it either- luckily, as your Black Lab Hybrid, he never needs to.
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Lilac lace ♡୨୧★ -> @starlightxsvt
synopsis: without much options left on your hands, you become Mingyu's roommate. things take a wild turn after a few weeks.
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ His smile ♡୨୧★ -> @angelwonie
Summary: falling in love with your fake boyfriend isn't a good idea, and it's even worse if that fake boyfriend happens to be Kim Mingyu. but you just can't help it — he's got the prettiest smile you've ever seen.
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Hallmark moment ♡୨୧★-> @onlymingyus Part 2
synopsis: The kids have been watching too many Christmas movies, and are now determined to have their very own magical moment with their parents.
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Local lover boy ♡୨୧♤ -> @cheolism
summary: after you've had a long week of work, mingyu decides to help you wind down for the night.
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Oh no, he's hot ★ -> @ncteez
Synopsis: The first time you drove your very trashed best friend home was because you had a crush on him. All the times you drove him home after that were because…well, his dad is sexy.
or the one where you have tension with your crush’s dad at four in the morning and maybe secretly fuck while said crush is asleep on the couch.
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Spoiled ★ -> @wonusite Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4
summary: you have never been spoiled, but that changes after you meet the man your mother is going to marry.
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Confidently lost ★ -> @gfcheol
summary: it's not easy to work your way through college, luckily for you, your babysitting job pays exceptionally well. and your boss is absolutely gorgeous.
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Stay at home ♡୨୧★ -> @celestiababie
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ I can't run away ♡୨୧★ -> @gyukult
summary: everyone expresses love in different ways. that doesn’t exclude you.
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ We don't usually hold hands ♡୨୧★ -> @gyukult
summary: when a friend brings up the potential feelings of a fuck buddy, you’re left wondering what to do when you confirm it’s true.
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Stop kissing me please ♡★ -> @jejuboo-s
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Break the curse, break my heart ♡୨୧ -> @savventeen
summary: what's supposed to be a simple hex job turns into something much deadlier, and suddenly the two of you are fighting just to stay alive
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ One last time (for old time's sake) ୨୧♡ -> @tonicandjins Part 2
summary: you receive an invitation for the worst day of your life.
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ A sheep in Wolf's clothing ♡★ -> @rubyreduji
summary: kim mingyu is the biggest player on campus, so why is he coming to you for sex help
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Drift away ♡୨୧★ -> @playmetheclassics
Summary: You made the biggest mistake of your life, and now, Mingyu is trying his hardest to forget and forgive you, but how long till your infidelity rips you both apart? Besides, it’s not like you’d blame him. You hurt him. You did the one thing you promised never to do.
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ To the brim ♡★ -> @toruro
description. all your sweet husband wants is to put a baby into you—is that so bad?
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ The secrets kept from roommates ♡★✹ -> @cheolism
summary: you are hiding a secret from mingyu. little do you know that he's hiding one from you too.
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Trust (fall) ♡★ -> @toruro
description. your boyfriend insists he's strong enough to carry you and fuck you at the same time, but you have your doubts. of course, mingyu is more than ready to try and prove you wrong.
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ — jealousy, jealousy ♡★ -> @monamipencil
synopsis; a trip to the convenience store with your boyfriend takes an unexpected turn.
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ pretty like this ♡★ -> @madeforgyu
summary. you think mingyu's hands are pretty. he thinks you look pretty coming undone. (cw. very heavy ddlg themes)
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ The Perils of Apartment Living ✹♡★ -> @dontflailmenow
Synopsis: While lying in bed, the two of them can't help but overhear their upstairs neighbors going at it rather loudly. Mingyu turns to You after a while, and asks, “You wanna fuck louder than them to establish dominance?”
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ First date ♡★ -> @cheolhub
summary. mingyu doesn’t usually fuck on the first date. emphasis on usually.
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Endless Adoration ♡★ -> @wonusite
❝ Mingyu has been irrevocably in love with you since he was in high school. He decides to keep this a secret until he can move on since you’ve only ever seen him as your best friend’s brother. However, his plan goes awry when you ask him to take your virginity and teach you about sex—as a friend, of course. ❞
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Kim mingyu’s (unhelpful) guide to losing your virginity ✹♡★ -> @shuaflix
SUMMARY ▸ after accidentally telling your friends that kim mingyu took your virginity (he didn't), you’re shocked when he proposes to relieve you of the fabled v-card for good (he does).
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ It’s all fun and games ✹♡★ -> @dontflailmenow
summary: reader thinks it’s fun to troll her buddy, mingyu, for being all big and strong. and it is! except at some point it turns out maybe she’s not just teasing and they’re both into it (and each other)
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Exile ♡୨୧★ -> @wongyuseokie
Summary: You two were high school sweethearts, and your love story was something only found in the scripts of a shitty teenage rom-com, but he was a jock, and you were shy and quiet. It shouldn’t have worked, but somehow it did. Now, fast forward ten years, and things aren’t the same. Your lives aren’t the same; he’s stuck in the past, and you only focus on the future. Neither of you has your priorities straight, and neither realises that your present is a complete and utter mess. You won’t let him go because he’s all you’ve ever known, and he won’t let you go because you’re the only thing right in his life, but will love and high school promises keep you two together?
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Creep ★୨୧ -> @smileysuh
preview. “If the roles were reversed - if you were a ghost bound to this apartment forever - you’re saying you wouldn’t watch me get naked every day?” He’s definitely got a point. As your eyes skim Mingyu's perfect form again, that tingle returns between your legs. There’s no reason for him to be as sexy as he is- murders aren’t the only shocking thing this man has under his belt and you can see that now.
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ In soft hands , Part 2 ♡୨୧★ -> @beahae
Summary: You've sworn off dating. But your favourite kid at your work has the hottest dad in the entire world. A bit of harmless flirting never hurt anyone, right?
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Only for Love ♡୨୧★ -> @joonsytip Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Epilogue
Synopsis: When an accidental discovery has your perception of happy married life crumbling down, you do what you think is the best for everyone involved. Naturally, your opinion of the best doesn't cater to your husband's. So what happens when things spiral out due to unforeseen events?
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Life's A Beach ♡★ -> @whipped-for-kpop-fics
Summary: You don’t like the beach, but you do like the handsome lifeguard who works there. As it turns out, he likes you too and is more than willing to risk his job to have you.
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ The Moves ✿♤♡✹ -> @thedensworld
❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ How to Win Hearts for Dummies (the answer is lattes and banana bread) ♡୨୧ -> @gyuswhore (Idol!mingyu x makeup-artist!reader)
[ More Mingyu fic recs will be updated. So do check this post once in a while ;) ]
Want more Seventeen fic recs? -> Click here
#seventeen x reader#mingyu x reader#seventeen angst#seventeen au#svt smut#seventeen fanfic#mingyu smut#kim mingyu smut#kim mingyu scenarios#kim mingyu x reader#mingyu fanfic#mingyu angst#mingyu fluff#mingyu imagines#mingyu scenarios#mingyu x you#mingyu imagine#seventeen fanfics#seventeen fic rec#seventeen fic recs#fic recs#mingyu recs#svt fic recs#svt hybrid au
6K notes
·
View notes
Text
Ruin the Friendship- Bob Floyd
Warnings: Best friends to lovers trope, it’s so obvious they love each other they’re stupid, language, filth, some angst (why not?), unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), Bob being pussy drunk.
Summary: The night before Bob leaves for Boot Camp, he's learned no one has gone down on his best friend. He's determined to fix that.
Words: 4.8K
This is for @attapullman's Bob Fucks celebration!
When you've been friends with someone since preschool, you get to know them like the back of your hand. Certain quirks and sayings that no longer surprise you.
“God, I wish that were me.”
It wasn't the first time Bob heard you say that. Usually there was a cute dog around, or a sushi boat being delivered at a restaurant when you said it.
But saying it during an oral sex scene in a movie was new.
It also brought up many questions.
Questions Bob shouldn't ask, considering he's known you since preschool. Questions Bob couldn't ask right now, because he was too preoccupied looking at you.
Your eyes were fixated on the screen, focused on the actress withering. Occasionally, they would dart to the other actor who was between the actress’ thighs. Bob noticed the increased rise and fall of your chest, how your front teeth dug into your bottom lip, how when you lean forward, the v-line cut of your shirt showed off the tops of your breasts. The soft glow of the lamps highlighted the beautiful features on your face.
All things he shouldn’t be noticing about his best friend. But then again, best friends shouldn’t be watching a French film together whose plot line focused on sexual liberation before he went off to Navy boot camp.
Granted, you and Bob haven’t had a conventional best friend relationship in a while, if at all, considering both sets of parents claimed you two promised to marry each other at the age of four.
Promises or not, best friends shouldn’t be one another’s first kiss. Or make out practice partners. Or each other’s New Year's kiss when y'all were single. Or spend Valentine's Day together at the local dinner.
The line between friends and something more was blurry, saved by a comment that ensured the other to think that the feelings that had been brewing weren't reciprocated.
“You’re a good kisser. Kelsey McCoy is going to think so too.”
“If Tommy Delaine doesn't like you, he's a dumbass.”
“I’m sure next year you’ll have someone.”
“If I had to spend it with anyone, I want it to be with my best friend.”
“You’re an amazing friend, you know that?”
Why say that if you harbor romantic feelings? Surely, all those kisses and talk of marriage meant nothing to them.
At least that's what the other thought.
It's because of this blurry line that Bob doesn't bite his tongue, doesn't throw away the comment to be forgotten. Instead, he speaks up.
“Been awhile?”
And because it's Bob, the guy you've known your whole life, the guy you tell everything to, your response rolls off your tongue without a second thought.
“Try never.”
It takes Bob a moment to process your words as the way your lips wrap around the beer bottle is far too distracting. But just like processing a car accident, once it registers, your words bring his brain to a screeching halt.
“Wait, never?” The shrug you give isn’t satisfactory. He grabs the remote to pause the movie, ignoring your cries of protest.
“Real talk; are you saying that no one has ever gone down on you?”
You sigh, regretting saying anything in the first place. One would think that after years of friendship, you’d know well enough that once Bob set his mind to something, he wouldn't relent until satisfied.
You down the remnants of your beer, mentally preparing for this conversation.
“No Robby. I've never had someone eat me out. Happy now?” Reaching for the remote was all in vain, as he just held it further away from you.
Darn those long limbs.
“But you've been with people…..so what did they do?” When you looked at him, there was no malice, just Bob looking genuinely baffled. His gentle blue eyes put you at ease, giving you the comfort to explain.
“They would touch me,” you motioned to the lower half of your body, “And like finger me. Enough to get me ready, I guess.”
Bob raised an eyebrow, “You guess?”
College was supposed to be a time for you to explore, to figure yourself out, to interact with new people.
And yet, when it came to the relationship aspect, everything had fizzled. You were now going into your junior year having yet to experience a meaningful romantic relationship.
Did you just have shit luck? Or was it because your mind would wander back to a bespectacled best friend when you were in bed with someone else?
“So instead of eating you out, which would actually be enjoyable on your end, you're telling me they just stuck their hand down there and hoped they were rubbing your clit? You didn't ever ask them to do something else?”
Bob didn't have the pristine mouth that parents thought he possessed. You knew, and had known for a while. And yet, hearing him say the phrase your clit in his deep, slightly twangy voice felt different.
You rubbed your thighs together.
“Are you shaming the people I've been with or me?”
Bob closed the difference between you and him on the couch, placing a hand on your bare knee.
Have his hands always been so big and veiny?
Fuck, did you have a thing for hands?
“I'm not shaming you. I’m shaming the people you've been with because well,” he ran a hand up and down the back of his neck, “Well, I enjoy giving….I like doing it. So I guess I'm surprised other people don't?”
His statement was shocking because everyone else you had been with viewed it as a chore, as something to use every excuse in the book to avoid doing.
Too tired. Takes too long. Wet enough so what's the point?
“You…like doing it?”
The tops of his cheeks reddened, despite a smirk beginning to form, “Yeah. I like giving and I like making them feel good. It's also a confidence booster, being able to make someone fall apart with your mouth.”
It shouldn't come as a surprise, it was Bob after all. The same Bob who always brought an extra pencil with him to algebra, in case you forgot yours. The same Bob who shared his Dunkaroos because your mom refused to buy them. The same Bob who made his dream of serving his country finally come true after years of hard work.
He was selfless. But this didn't feel like selflessness. Hearing him talk about giving pleasure, making someone fall apart with his mouth, was different. Even his voice when he said it was different, raspier than usual.
“Well,” you scooted closer to the edge of the couch, trying to widen the gap so he couldn't feel how hot your body was, “I can't wait ‘til I meet someone who feels the same way.”
“You don't have to wait.”
The grip on your beer bottle tightened, the alcohol getting caught in your throat. There's no way he could have just said that, no way he could be implying what you're thinking.
But when you look at Bob, he was staring back with raised eyebrows and thin lips curled into a little smirk. The same look he’s given you countless times before when he mumbles a smartass comment only your ears were privy to hear.
You heard me.
“What-are you…” You stared at him, mouth agape. Bob appeared unphase by it, like he had just offered something totally normal and rational.
Perhaps it was the three beers he had downed. Perhaps it was the rush of adrenaline kicking in after realizing this was his last chance at making a move before he left.
“Wouldn't that be like crossing a line?” Your head was racing, alternating between flashbacks of when you kissed Bob and imagining what it would be like to have his mouth on your body.
“Wouldn't be much different from what we’ve already done.”
All the air was sucked out of the room by his comment. Because of course he wasn't doing this because he wanted to, because he wanted you. This would be meaningless, just like everything else. If you went through with this, you’d wake up the next day to Bob leaving with nothing changed, still in this seemingly endless limbo.
Long, nimble fingers hooked themselves under your chin, gently forcing you to look up.
The look he gave you was unfamiliar. His eyes remained focused on your face, though it seemed like they were searching.
For what, you couldn't tell.
After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Do you want it to be different?”
What good was telling him if he didn’t feel the same way, thus ruining a great friendship?
“Do you want it to be different Robby?” You countered back.
He leaned in, his breath hot on your face, “I asked you first.”
He thought he had the upper hand. But you were like a lightning bug, faster.
“I asked you second, Robby.”
Like a rubber band, the tension snapped as Bob was unable to hold back a snort of laughter. The tension left your shoulders, the sight of him laughing familiar and safe.
“I’m going to really miss your resounding maturity,” Bob deadpanned after gaining the ability to compose himself, though a sweet crooked smile remained.
It was now your turn to roll your eyes, though it didn’t stop the smile currently forming on your face. Seeing this side of Bob was always fun; most folks thought he was quiet and meek. The truth was that he liked to observe and didn’t find value in speaking when it wasn’t necessary. He didn’t hold back with you, didn’t feel the need to sit and observe. He truly conversed with you and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you feel special.
He was never that way with the other girls he dated.
“You love me,” you teased back. It was a comment you've said countless times, always with that sweet, albeit mischievous smile that made Bob's heart flutter.
But this time instead of shaking his head or rolling his eyes, he leaned forward until your foreheads were touching.
Seeing him up close took your breath away. You could see how his roots were beginning to darken, the blonde fading as he got older. The little scar on his chin from a BB Gun incident when he was ten. Eyes bluer than the ocean. The ends of his hair were beginning to curl, something you'd greatly miss when he'd get the military mandated buzz cut.
“Yeah, I do.” There was no teasing in his voice. No mischief in his eyes. Instead of playfully shaking your shoulder, his hand found its way to the back of your neck, fingers cupping your warm skin. He was moving quickly, making you unable to truly process what he had just said.
Despite it being new territory, he was handling it beautifully. You, on the other hand, were torn between wondering if your increased heart beat was medically concerning and how large Bob’s hands were.
“You gotta….if you want to stop, tell me,” His breathing had increased, like it did when he had finished his part in the marching band. But this wasn’t marching band practice and y’all weren’t on the high school field. You were in your parents’ basement, with Bob’s lips quickly closing the gap between yours and his.
It wasn’t your first time kissing Bob, but it might as well have been. Years of experience had given him more confidence. He knew where to put his hands now, one still on your neck to guide you, the other gripping the soft flesh of your hip. He didn’t hesitate to slide his tongue across your bottom lip, successfully driving you wild.
When the rounded tip of his nose brushed against yours, a soft laugh escaped your lips. Bob didn’t mind, using the chance to let his tongue explore your mouth. Your body leaned towards him, hands gripping the soft fabric of his old Warped Tour T-shirt.
“I thought you,” your words were slurred, a weak moan interrupting your speech due to his lips moving down to your neck, “Thought you were gonna eat me out.”
Bob’s moan vibrated against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. His hands traveled to your breasts, gripping them through your T-shirt. It wasn't a hard squeeze, which is what you were used to.
It was pleasurable. Bob was pleasurable.
“Did none of the guys you were with do foreplay?” He asked, his hands continuing their ministrations.
“I-fuck- yes they did, it just never took this long,” you grunted against his lips.
“God, you have terrible taste in men.”
You wanted to let Bob know that he was now included in that group. But then his fingers hooked themselves around the band of your shorts, pulling them down. Had you known what tonight would entail, you would have opted for underwear that wasn't so worn. The long hairs on his arms tickled your sensitive skin as he moved to kneel on the floor, the cool basement air making you realize just how wet you were.
How could he do that so quickly?
He pinned your hips against the soft couch cushions. With anyone else, you would complain with how hard he was gripping your soft skin. But with Bob, you’d love it. It meant hand-shaped bruises that would stay after he left, reminding you of tonight.
When his sharp nose nudged your clothed slit, a loud gasp erupted from your mouth.
Thank god your parents were on vacation.
His tongue was so wide as it stroked the quickly dampening fabric. How was he able to find your clit so quickly? Most struggled to find it even after your panties had been taken off.
Bob couldn’t help but chuckle upon hearing your strained whimpers. You were practically squirming, hips erratically jerking with every touch.
“Wha-why did you stop?” You whined, looking down to find him staring up to you.
“Are you-I just need to know, do you still want this?” God, he was so fucking considerate. In any other moment, you’d find it endearingly sweet.
But if his tongue felt that good against your covered cunt, you were dying to feel it without the barrier.
“Robby, I swear to god, if you don’t eat me out, I’m going upstairs and using my vibrator,” Your voice was strained, your knuckles turning white from gripping the couch cushions.
He laughed. Bob knew you were bluffing. He had just gotten started and you were already so wet.
Slowly, he took his glasses off, placing them on the coffee table behind him, making a show of it.
“Won’t need those. I’m nearsighted after all.”
“You little-” The insult remained unsaid, as Bob pushed your underwear to the side, his mouth instantly latching onto your swollen clit.
His mouth was warm. The pressure wasn’t too much, just enough to make you wither in pleasure. It felt so good, so fucking good. When Bob looked up, he found your mouth open, despite no sounds coming out.
Good.
You deserved to know what it was like, to have someone care about your pleasure, to focus solely on making you feel incredible.
God, he could feel his cock throbbed. You looked so pretty with your eyes glazed over, mouth agape as you watched him, completely enthralled.
And he had just gotten started.
He wanted to do more than make you come, he wanted to blow your mind. Call it selfish, but Bob wanted to ruin you for anyone else. He had always held back his tongue when it came to the people you dated, knowing sooner or later you'd realized they weren't worth your time.
But now he had his chance and Bob sure as hell wasn't going to let it slip away.
The loud sound of fabric ripping broke you out of the pleasure filled haze you were in. Before you could make a sound about your now ripped underwear, your knees were pinned to your chest, giving Bob complete access to your soaked core.
“So fucking sweet,” He groaned against your cunt, sending vibrations all through your body, “Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.”
“Robby.”
To say Bob dreamed of hearing you moan his name would be the understatement of the fucking century.
Your whole body was on fire, unable to do anything else but take everything Bob was giving.
A resounding moan fell from your lips as Bob thrusted two fingers inside you, your walls struggling to accommodate the unexpected stretch.
Was he this thick elsewhere?
You wanted to find out. Wanted to feel it inside you, in your mouth. You shamelessly wanted it all. But you couldn’t even voice that because Bob was tracing figure eights on your clit, his fingers brushing against a spot you thought Cosmo had made up.
Fuck, he was doing a number on you. His soft hair threaded through your fingers as you gripped the strands. Your hips involuntarily jerked upwards, desperate to get as much of Bob as possible.
You kept expecting him to stop, considering you were wet enough for him to fuck you. That's what everyone else did.
But Bob Floyd wasn't like everyone else. Far from it.
He was fucking delighted to hear all the cute, strained noises coming from you as he continued. Each time you tugged on his hair, a groan would fall from his lips. It was the prettiest sound you had ever heard.
Why did either of you wait this long?
You tried to communicate, to let him know you were close, tugging on his hair, trying to move away from his mouth.
But Bob was deceivingly strong, using his free hand to pin your hip back to the couch, his mouth firmly on your pussy.
When you looked down, you were in awe of how blissed Bob looked. His eyes were closed as his mouth remained latched to your clit. The sounds of your own wetness were obscene, but barely audible over the moans Bob was letting out.
He really did enjoy it.
“Come. Wanna taste ya,” His voice was muffled as he added a third finger inside you.
Worried thoughts of coming on his face left your brain as pleasure coursed through your veins. Without any warning, the band that had been tightening came undone.
Bob used both hands to hold your hips firmly in place, his tongue lapping up your release.
You don't recall coming this hard or this long before. It wasn't a small wave, it felt like the whole damn ocean was taking you under.
His fingers continued to stretch you open, prolonging your high. The Navy was the perfect fit for him, considering he could apparently hold his breath for an impressive amount of time.
The soft fabric of the couch cushions brushed as the back of your head, your eyes half closed. You couldn't even voice an acknowledge when Bob’s mouth and fingers withdrew from your abused cunt.
“You're so pretty when you come,” Bob murmured, his lips brushing against yours.
Your hands tugged on the soft fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer.
“M-my turn,” you whined, hips jerking up towards his.
Bob shook his head, “Wanna be inside ya.”
How was this the same guy who feared clowns as a kid?
Before you could even question it, Bob had sat down on the couch, gripping your hips to help you straddle his lap. When had he taken off his jeans? How was he so quick-
Jesus Christ, he was huge.
“Fuck, she was right.”
Bob looked up from where you two were about to connect, a very confused look on his face, “Excuse me?”
“Betsey Thomas said you had a huge dick,” you confessed, wishing that you'd think before speaking for once.
Bob’s brows knitted together in confusion, “Betsey Thomas has never seen my dick, the fuck are you talking about?”
“Said she could tell you were packing because of the gym shorts you'd wear for PE class.” Bob signed, shaking his head as he muttered something about the required uniform.
“I….we can unpack this later-”
You snorted, “Why? Too busy packing here?”
Your laughter was cut short by Bob rubbing his cock against your soaked cunt. Memories of high school escaped your brain, the only thing you could focus on now was Bob and his huge dick.
Curious wasn't accurate. Frankly, you were desperate for him. Had been since middle school, if you were being truthful.
“Woah, hey. Easy baby, easy,” his voice made your thighs clench, made you whine into his shoulder as you tried to line your aching hole with his cock.
Finally, you felt him at your entrance. Slowly, he filled you up inch by inch. Every time you tried to urge him to go faster, Bob would simply shake his head before pressing a kiss against your cheek.
“Don't want to hurt ya darlin’.”
Darlin. You were his darlin.
He made you feel so full, and you didn't even have it all inside of you yet. All you could do was cling to him as he whispered praises in your ears.
Once you reached the base, it felt like you and Bob were the only ones in the world. At least, that’s what you pretended. It was better than thinking about how he would be gone for who knows how long after tonight. After boot camp was done, he would be off to train for the Navy.
Even he didn't know when he would return home.
It wasn't fair, finally expressing your feelings for one another just to be separated immediately after. You wanted him to stay, to go on dates with him, to visit him on the weekends when school started, just like everyone else in a long distance relationship.
“Hey, what's wrong? Do you- we can stop if you want, it's okay.” Bob’s voice was soft, full of concern.
His hand lifted your chin up from his shoulder, revealing your watery eyes.
“I don't want you to go.”
“I know,” his voice was barely a whisper, matching your volume. Long fingers gently traced over your face, as if he was trying to memorize them.
“I know it's horrible timing, but we'll figure it out, okay? I want to figure it out with you, I promise,” He peppered your face with soft kisses, earning a small smile out of you.
“But for now, can I make ya feel good? Because I'm willing to bet no guy has made you come while fucking ya.”
Unlike in the past, where Bob’s smartass comments earned him a shove, you pressed your lips against his.
“I'm gonna start moving now, okay?” Even though he warned you, nothing could have prepared you for how full Bob made you when his hips thrusted upwards.
“You're-fuck- you feel so good, oh my God.”
Your fingers tangled into Bob’s hair, trying to commit the feeling to memory.
Bob was trying to do the same, his hands roaming over your body as he took in your scent. Maybe if he asked nicely, you'd let him take a bottle of your perfume with him.
He was going to need it for the next few months.
Your mouth clashed against his, tongue desperate to taste him. Wandering hands desperate to feel everything everywhere.
“When-fuck- when I come back, wanna take you out. W-we can go to that Italian place by your school. The one where you have to wear a tie.” How Bob was able to talk coherently while fucking you was beyond comprehension.
The Navy will be lucky to have his great ability to multitask.
“Gonna bring ya flowers too. Sunflowers ‘cause they're-oh my god- you're favorite.” You didn't think you could recall your full name with the way Bob is thrusting into you, much less favorite things.
Your walls clench around Bob’s thick cock, eliciting a desperate groan from him, rather than the instant ejaculation you were used to.
“If you keep doing that, I'm gonna come,” Bob whined into the crook of your neck.
“That’s-shit- the point,” you grunted, your hips picking up speed.
Bob shook his head, “Need you to come first.”
Confusion caused you to still your hips, “Bob, I already-”
“Don't finish that sentence, don't you dare,” Bob ended his command with a strong thrust that made you feel as if he was splitting you open on his cock.
Your head dropped down to the crook of his neck. His skin was so warm and the smell of sage was nearly overwhelming. You knew exactly what body wash he had used, as it was the same one he wore ever since junior year, when you commented on how nice it was.
In hindsight, it was painfully obvious.
His lips found yours, capturing them in a desperate kiss. When you felt his fingers draw circles on your clit, you saw stars.
You didn't know it could feel this good with someone. This was more than a quick fuck, as you actually felt cared for. It was intense, the sensitivity of your first orgasm still echoing every time the thick head of his cock brushed against your walls.
It's audible how wet you are for Bob. He can feel it at the base of his cock, which makes him wonder what it would be like to have you on your knees, or better, your back, all spread out for him.
“C’mon sweet girl,” he’s panting, voice desperate and raspy, “Wanna-fuck! Wanna feel you come s’bad, please, please baby.”
Each circle drawn on your clit causes the band in your stomach to tighten. Combined with Bob’s words, you knew you wouldn't last much longer.
“You're incredible, shit, I-fuck. All yours. Wanna be all yours. Fuck fuck fuck, clenching me so hard, fuck, don't stop.” Obscene was not a word many, if any, would use to describe Bob Floyd.
Up until thirty minutes ago, you would have considered yourself part of that group.
But now? Now you were falling apart on his cock. The rush of pleasure had hit like a brick, coursing through your veins. It hit harder than anything else, harder than the now banned alcohol caffeine combo drink, or any controlled substance doctors had prescribed to help you focus.
His finger-fuck, usually you had to use two of your own- didn’t stop rubbing your clit, nor does he stop thrusting in and out of your pulsing cunt. It's almost as if-no, you know Bob’s enjoying making you feel euphoria.
That's what blows your mind. His laser focus on your pleasure, rather than his own. Truthfully, he could have come already and you wouldn't have thought twice about it.
But now it was all you could think about. How much he cared, how good he felt. How incredible it was for him to pull your hips flushed against his, filling you to the brim with his cock.
“Holy shit you're so tight-I, sh-should I pull out?”
Instead of answering, you used all your strength to rock your hips against him. Considering he made you come twice, the least you could do was help him find his release.
Your fingers gripped his hair, tugging on the strands as your mouth clashed against his.
The downright guttural groan he releases against your mouth has you clamping down on his cock. The motion finally leads to Bob’s undoing, causing him to come deep inside you, warmth flooding your body.
His arms are wrapped around your body, clinging onto you as if he thinks you'll disappear if he lets go.
You’d be a damn fool to.
The basement is now quiet, apart from the heavy breathing coming from both you and Bob.
After several minutes pass by, you gather the courage to break the silence, “Did you mean all that? Taking me out on a date and being mine?”
Bob’s cheek burned a bright red as he timidly nodded his head, “I….yeah. I didn't mean to say it when we were, you know. I'm sorry.”
You pressed a reassuring kiss to his warm cheek, “Robby, what do you feel the need to apologize for?”
He looked up to you, those earnest blue eyes sparkling, “Shit timing?”
“You're not wrong about that, but like you said earlier, I want to work it out with you.” Your words brought comfort, giving Bob the confidence to place a sweet kiss right on your lips. His smile was burning into yours, causing your stomach to flutter.
“I know it's not that Italian restaurant, but can I take you out to breakfast tomorrow?”
The local diner had been a go-to since y'all were thirteen. But this time would be different. This time you wouldn't feel the urge to look away when he caught you staring. This time neither one would correct the waitress when she'd make a comment about y'all being a cute couple.
The soft call of your name pulled you out of your thoughts.
“Uh can I….eat you out again? Tomorrow obviously! Like before we go to the diner?”
Good Lord this man was going to be the death of you.
---------------------------------------------------------
@ohtobeleah @sebsxphia @attapullman @ryebecca @sio-ina-bottle @rhettabbotts @callsignspark @roosterforme @lewmagoo @hangmanapologist @justabovewater20 @theharddeck @cumholland @bobfloydsbabe @sometimesanalice @heartfairy @auroralightsthesky
#my writing#Bob Floyd#Robert Floyd#Robert Bob Floyd#bob floyd x reader#bob floyd x you#Bob fucks#robert bob floyd x reader#bob floyd imagine#bob floyd fic#Bob Floyd smut#bob floyd x y/n#bob floyd x female reader#top gun smut#top gun fanfiction
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
AGAINST THE LAW. | KEN RYUGUJI
synopsis ━━ after one too many trips to the auto repair shop with your old car, you realize you can focus on your work tasks so much better in the waiting room. but when the head mechanic notices you've been loitering, you recognize him instantly: ken ryuguji. there’s zero chance you’re getting out of this one. (older!draken x f!reader.)
content warnings ━━ missionary position on a motorcycle (hey, this is fiction), cunnilingus + fingering, praise, semi-public sex, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, pet names (i.e. cherry), mentions loss of virginity in the past, mutual pining, au as helllll, draken is in his late 20s and a mechanic. nsfw (minors + ageless blogs dni).
word count ━━ 5.2k
song inspiration ━━ one for the road, arctic monkeys / one of the girls, the weeknd / fallen star, the neighbourhood
author's note ━━ ok off the bat, I just wanna say this fic was completely inspired by this movie called wait with me. my friends and I like to watch passionflix movies for the laughs, but this one wasn't. well horrible. if you watch it, don't expect oscar-worthy performances, but it was fun and stupid and yeah, it made me think about what if part of this concept was applied to draken when he was older, workin as a mechanic. idk. I'm not caught up on the manga whatsoever so take this as a major au lol
Your car was a piece of shit, but that wasn’t the only reason you ended up sitting in the waiting room at the mechanic’s more than usual. A police officer would call it loitering. You, on the other hand, called it a safe space. For the past couple of weeks, your car had been in and out of the shop due to a faulty ignition sensor that your mechanic couldn’t nail down until your car broke down on the side of the highway. For the third time. Needless to say, it had been a stressful past month. The car issues had been one thing, but then there was all the pressure at work. And for some reason, you began to find comfort in working at the mechanic’s waiting room.
Your work as a journalist was very important to you. A perfectionist at heart, you needed to be in the right zone, the right state of mind, to write. Unfortunately, you weren’t someone who could sit at your desk at home for hours, typing away at the speed of light, and you definitely couldn’t focus at a coffee shop. You tried a plethora of other places. The local park: your laptop died. The library: teenagers still whispered too loud even in the quietest of places. The McDonald's parking lot: you got distracted by your hunger. Nowhere was right … until you were forced to work from your mechanic’s waiting room while he worked on your car.
Even when your mechanic figured out the issue, you couldn’t help but sneak in through the entrance late mornings and work on your articles. The waiting room was just so … quiet, even more quiet than a library. There was hardly anyone in there besides the retired folk who could wait all day for their car to be fixed. You had a coffee machine at your disposable – not good coffee, but good enough – and a selection of snacks from the vending machine. It was pure bliss. You liked to hole yourself up in the corner, picking out different outfits that would conceal your face enough, and type away until the sun began to set. No one said a word to you. No one batted an eye.
So, as you can see, it was a surprise to you when someone eventually approached you two months into your loitering scheme.
It was just about closing time and you were shoving your laptop in your backpack after sending off another draft to your editor. A pair of feet appeared in front of your chair, and when you looked up at the young mechanic chewing on the end of a toothpick, you knew you were fucked.
“Toyota,” he said without missing a beat, knowing your car from the top of his head, “ignition sensor, right?”
You paused, sliding on your backpack. Could you make a break for it? “Um … correct.”
“That was fixed weeks ago,” he said, slapping a dirty rag on his shoulder, car keys dangling from the other hand.
Your mouth went completely dry. How the fuck could you explain this without coming off as a total weirdo? Your hands gripped the straps of your backpack for dear life. This was so embarrassing.
Before you could reply, the young mechanic gestured to the back door with his chin. “Follow me,” he said. “Boss wants to talk to ‘ya.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Still fiddling with your backpack straps, you knew there was no choice but to follow this guy. He led you through the back door and into the main workshop area of the shop. There were some cars left on a few lifts, ready to be inspected tomorrow, and the shelves packed with parts seemed to be in disarray. Besides that, there was no one in here but you, the young mechanic, and whoever this “boss” was still working in the back of the shop. You had never met the owner of the shop before; you typically worked with your mechanic and no one else.
You took down the hood that you’d been wearing today. There was no use in hiding your face now.
“Here she is, boss,” the man beside you said, still twirling those keys. “Can I go home now?”
“Yeah, yeah,” the boss replied, hidden behind the huge motorcycle he was working on. “Good work today.”
The younger man left, the bell above the office door jingling, and now it was just two: you and this so-called boss you’d never met. You stood there in silence, hands fidgeting with anxiety, as you waited for the boss to say something. From behind the motorcycle, all you could see was a flash of blonde hair and smoke puffing out into the dingy air. It smelled like motor oil and cigarettes back here.
You lifted your foot – maybe it was time to try and sprint out – but then a deep voice entered the work space.
“You know that loitering is against the law, right?”
That voice … it was familiar, but you couldn’t put a pin on it. And then, the boss was standing up, and you saw the tuft of blonde hair slicked back, the shaved sides on his head. That infamous dragon tattoo still on his left temple. The little hoop on his left ear was accompanied by a few other small piercings. He was still the same height – over six feet – but had grown some muscle. His hands were calloused from all those years of fighting, and now, from heavy labor. And those eyes … they were still as stormy and dark as the first day you saw him in school.
This wasn’t just embarrassing. This was mortifying.
“C’mon, Cherry,” Draken said, instantly recognizing you and your old nickname, “you know you can’t loiter in my shop.”
Cherry. You hadn’t been called that since … well, since high school. Your classmates hadn’t started calling you that because of a specific physical trait. To your face, you were told the nickname was for your quick skill of tying a cherry stem into a knot with your tongue. You had been the best, after all. But unbeknownst to you, the nickname came from when Mikey Sano, the infamous former leader of the Tokyo Manji Gang, popped your cherry.
You hadn’t even liked Mikey at the time. You were just sweet sixteen, and he was a year older, and you had assumed it would be better for your first to be someone with experience. Unfortunately, Mikey Sano had no experience. The sex had been awkward and terrible, as most first times between teenagers are, but at least you could say that you lost your virginity to the leader of Toman. Your eyes had always been on someone else, though. Someone who you had been too nervous to talk to, who you had only shared just a few interactions with. You never had a crush on Mikey as a teenager; you had always liked –
“Draken,” you said finally, shock lining your voice. Your eyes formed into wide saucers. It had been so long, and he was here. This whole time. Right under your nose. How surprised did you look right now?
He chuckled, wiping his hands off on a rag. The cigarette dangling from his lips was plucked out, and he stabbed it into an ashtray. “Don’t look so surprised.”
Oh, so you did look that shocked to see him.
He threw the tool he’d been using on a bench and stepped around the bike. “I really don’t go by Draken anymore,” he continued, sitting down on the rusted motorcycle, stretching his legs out. “Just call me, Ken.”
You were speechless. Were you breathing right now? You had to admit … you still found him to be handsome. He always had been. God, you were obsessed with him in high school, but always hid your crush in the shadows. Not even your friends knew about it, but you’d made it obvious, even if you didn’t know it. And now … he’d gotten better with age. The lines underneath his eyes told a story, as well as the scars etched into his veiny forearms. He could have more that you couldn’t see underneath the tattoos on his arms. Your mouth was so dry from staring at him that you had to lick the corners of your lips.
“Ken,” you said in a single breath, lacing your hands together in front of your body. You hadn’t moved from your spot, even when he was looking at you so casually. “I’m so sorry for loitering. Please, don’t call the cops on me. Or something. I have a reason –”
“Me? Call the police?” He laughed again, and it was just like how you remembered. “Do you know me at all, Cherry?”
Once you found the courage to breathe again, you stepped forward. Then another. And another. “I guess I don’t,” you shrugged, still playing with your hands. “I guess I just knew of you.”
“And I knew of you, all those years ago.” He smiled like you two were in on a secret. The rag that had been in his hands was tossed onto his left shoulder. He was wearing a pair of grey coveralls stained with oil, but the top half was unzipped and tied around his waist, leaving him in just a white tank top on his torso, which hugged his muscles so nicely. “So, tell me then. What’s the reason for your loitering?”
This had to be the most words shared between you two than all those years at school together. You thought about pinching yourself, just to check if this was all part of an elaborate dream. Or nightmare, depending on how it ended.
“Um …” You rubbed the back of your neck, blushing slightly. “Well, you see … the waiting room at your shop is very … quiet.”
His brow raised. “So I’ve been told.” He stared you down. “C’mon, out with it.”
“You’re going to make fun of me.”
“I will not.”
“Yes, you will.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because we went to school together!”
“Oh, you know that means noth –”
“I’m a journalist and I write my articles better in your waiting room,” you finally answered, crossing your arms over your chest. “There. I said it.”
Draken couldn’t stop himself from laughing. He knew he promised, but the giggles bubbled up inside him, forcing themselves to emerge. You looked at him incredulously, blinking too fast. All you wanted right now was to crawl into a hole and be left alone. You had to find a new mechanic after this.
“You said you wouldn’t make fun of me,” you sighed.
He waved his hand as his laughter died down. “I’m not. I promise.” Finally, his shoulders sagged again and he stood up. “I think it’s really cool that you … like my waiting room so much.”
You found your lips pulling into a smile at the same time as him. The tension broke and you felt your dimples crease. “I also like all the little snacks in the machine.”
“And the coffee?” He added.
You shrugged. “Could use some work.”
Draken laughed again, and just the sound of it made butterflies form in your stomach. You never had such a reaction to someone laughing before. What was wrong with you?
He stuck his hands in the front pockets of his coveralls. “It’s … really nice to see you again, Cherry.”
You mimicked his actions, instead sliding your hands into the back pockets of your jeans. “You too, Ken.”
“I won’t bust you for loitering, by the way. Even if it is against the law,” he chuckled under his breath, whipping the rag off his shoulder once again. “Come over here. Let me show you what I’m working on.”
His tone was so casual, as if years hadn’t passed between you two, as if this wasn’t the most you talked in years. You set your backpack down and approached him in front of the bike. Your fingers ran over the slope of the seat, all new despite the rusty exterior of the motorcycle. “That’s new leather,” he informed you. “Feel free to test it out. I need someone else’s butt on this thing so I know if I chose a good material.”
You giggled, all light and flirty. You simply couldn’t help it, especially when he looked at you with those dark eyes, the corners creasing when he smiled. Without missing a beat, you sat down on the side of the bike, like he had minutes ago, and looked up at him. He was tall, but from this seat, he was even taller.
He pointed to the wheel of the bike, and then the headlight. “I just started replacing the …” His voice drowned out as you simply focused on his lips. His mouth quirked as he explained what he fixed so far on the bike. You watched his finger dance around the bike, taking in the rough exterior of his hands up close. They were so much bigger now, amongst other things –
“So how’s that seat?”
You blinked, bringing yourself out of your horny stupor. “Oh, um – comfy. Very comfy.” You cleared your throat. “So … is this for a customer?”
“It’s mine. This is a personal project,” he explained, leaning slightly to the left, closer to you. “I wouldn’t be working on anything this late except if it was for me.”
His eyes were on you again, drinking you in as you sat on the bike. He placed his hand on the fuel tank, so close to yours. Your stomach was definitely doing flip-flops now, especially when you noticed the way his eyes raked down your figure. You wished you’d chosen something better to wear, something other than a pair of jeans and a cropped hoodie, but you’d only expected to be getting work done in the waiting room today. Not to be confronted by your old school crush. But it looked like it didn’t matter to him. The way he was looking at you … it felt like you were naked.
“It really is nice to see you again,” he said, voice just slightly above a whisper. His stance changed and he moved to stand between your legs.
You bit your lip for a moment. “You already said that.”
“You’re right. Uh … I …” He looked down at his hands, flexing them, breaking his nerves. “You just … look very pretty … sitting on my bike.”
You looked down at yourself. The way you sat with your legs spread wide was anything but attractive, and it wasn’t like you were wearing a cute, little dress. “I do?”
But when you lifted your stare again, his face was so much closer to yours. He was leaning down now, bracing two hands on the leather seat, and trying to pretend like he wasn’t inhaling your perfume. You just smelled … so good. Like strawberries and apples and … cherries. Red, ripened cherries. And the way you were sitting on that seat, eyes wide and cheeks blushing from being caught earlier. Fuck, it reminded him of the first time he saw you in high school. He had been a horny teenager, of course, but the way he saw you tie that cherry stem with your tongue … you were the first person he ever jerked off to the thought of. He had never made a move on you – ever – but at this moment, he was glad. Because things would’ve been different, and you never would’ve ended up loitering at his shop, and you never would’ve been sitting so pretty on his bike, all these years later.
“I just …” He trailed off, words failing him, as he lifted a hand to skim it over your jawline. “You can tell me to stop.”
But you didn’t. You wouldn’t. Your eyes simply batted up at him, leaning into his touch when his fingers caressed your cheek. Your skin immediately flushed. You were so soft, and warm, and god, did his skin prickle when he touched you.
“Can I tell you a secret?” He muttered, voice gravely. You nodded instantly, and his thumb went to trace the outline of your lips. “I had always been … jealous that Mikey got to you first.”
Had your feelings in high school been reciprocated and you didn’t even know it? You licked at the corners of your lips, your tongue quickly flicking his thumb in the process. “You were?” You asked, already feeling yourself getting wet from just him tracing your lips. “I … never really liked Mikey anyways.” You then shook your head. “It feels silly to talk about this so many years later –”
Draken turned your face back to his, looking into your eyes sternly. “You never liked Mikey,” he said, point blank, pressing his thumb onto your bottom lip.
Without hesitation, you wrapped your lips around his thumb, swirling your tongue around the fingertip. You shook your head at his question.
His breath hitched. Just the sight of your lips around his thumb had him adjusting himself in his pants. He could feel his cock start to swell with need, causing him to mumble a soft, “Fuck,” under his breath.
You weren’t just wet now. You were soaked.
You slipped your mouth off his thumb, leaving a tiny trail of spit. His face immediately got closer, his lips grazing yours. He could tell they were soft, and even your chapstick smelled like cherries. God, how could he be so hard already? “I liked you back when we were teenagers,” you confessed, reaching out to hook your thumbs in the belt loops on his coveralls. “I was too scared to say anything, and Mikey … he’d just been there. Right place at the right time. We really didn’t feel anything for each other.”
Your words stirred something within him, something more than jealousy. Was it regret? The fact that he could’ve had you, all those years ago, if he’d just manned up and asked. He could’ve fought people all day, but when it came to asking out the girl he liked, he’d sat back, let his best friend pop your cherry. It should’ve been him. Fuck, it could’ve been him.
His lips pressed to yours instantly, needing to taste the sweetness on your lips. His tongue darted out, swiping at that cherry flavor, and he moaned. Actually moaned. Draken wasn’t known to be weak for anyone, but you … you had always been a different story. You pulled him in closer by his belt loops, tipping your face up as he leaned over you. His mouth devoured yours, his tongue slipping past your lips once again to explore your mouth. He gripped the edge of the seat, his other hand cradling your jaw, and you wanted him so much closer. If he just put his knee between your legs, you could –
There it was. He did it, placing his knee right in the perfect spot. You bucked your hips up, setting a slow grind against his knee as he kissed you with feverish intent. Moans fell from your lips and into the kiss, making the tent in his pants grow bigger every passing second. He was so fucking hard now, and he needed more of you. He would have more of you.
“No, stop,” he muttered, breaking the kiss and moving his knee away. You huffed with disappointment, wanting that delicious friction once again, but when you opened your eyes, he was staring at you with purpose. “Please, let me taste you.”
You nodded dumbly, eyes blown out with lust. All you could say was, “Okay.”
In another life, you would’ve said something endearing, or maybe even hit him with a little dirty talk. But you absolutely couldn’t right now. Your head was swimming, the image of him unzipping your jeans and taking them off felt like it was out of a fever dream. Is this what it felt like to drown? No, you were breathing – just about – and Draken was throwing your pants off to the side, kneeling before you. Your legs spread wide as you sat on the bike. Surely, there could’ve been a better place to do this, but the way he was staring at your soaked panties, pushing them to the side to take in your pussy … you knew there was no stopping him. This was just his first course of the night.
His tongue dove between your wet folds, drinking you in like a glass of lemonade on a hot summer’s day. You knew you were done for when his arms wrapped around your legs, holding them apart, giving himself better access to one thing he’d craved for years. He rolled his tongue over your swollen clit, enjoying the sounds that slipped out of your mouth. You muttered obscenities, bucked your hips without thinking, pulled on his slicked-back hair. Anything to give you more friction on your precious, aching clit.
He dragged his tongue down, pushing it inside your warmth, collecting the arousal and groaning like a man starved. Fucking his tongue into you, he angled his nose to brush your clit, and you just about mewled. You had spent so many years either having mediocre sex or stressing over this stupid job, when this – this man you had been in love with in school – was here the whole time, just dreaming about the day he could eat your pussy. So much time wasted, so many fake orgasms, while Ken Ryuguji owned your favorite auto shop, so close to you and right under your nose.
You were pretty sure the seat on this bike had to have been ruined. Draken was turning you into a wet mess, making your hips buck against his face. His lips wrapped your beloved clit, sucking and pulling, needing more – so much more – of you. Slipping two fingers inside you, he pumped them fast. It didn’t take long for his fingers to curl and find that sweet spot that had your core trembling around him. He didn’t know what he’d do if you came on his face. Honestly, he’d probably cum in his pants on the spot.
“C’mon … c’mon … you can cum in my m–mouth –” He was practically begging, his voice muffled from deep within your thighs. “Tastes so, so good … fuck, Cherry, fuck –”
You couldn’t stop yourself, couldn’t even think about anything but the way his tongue lapped at your clit, before you were cumming on his tongue, your arousal smearing all over his lips. He moaned the second he got just a hint of your essence, burying his face more into your legs. You tasted better than candy, than cherries, than menthol cigarettes. He could spend forever between these thighs, drinking you in and listening to your desperate moans.
Once your body stopped shaking, he dragged his tongue one last time through your folds, making sure he didn’t miss a drop. You yelped from the overstimulation, and when you opened your eyes, he was rising from in between your legs. His licked at your slick still staining his lips, bringing your mouth to his again, letting you taste yourself. Your hands fisted into his shirt, downright desperate for more of him. As if reading your thoughts, he pulled back.
“I know it’s not ideal, given the place we’re in, but …” He cradled your face in both in his hands, as if you were just a baby bird. “Can I fuck you, Cherry?”
You nodded without hesitation, already drunk on his touch. You weren’t exactly sure how he planned on doing this. I mean … you two were in the dirty workshop area of an auto repair shop. This wasn’t exactly the best place to have sex. But then he was adjusting your position on the motorcycle, laying your head down by the handlebar and pulling your legs on both sides of the seat, your ass resting nicely in the curve. His hands were quick to roll off your panties.
“Ken,” you called out, sitting up a little and dragging your hand up. His white tank bunched up at the waist. “Wanna see more of you …”
Draken was so goddamn hard in his pants, his cock throbbing with the anticipation of being inside you, but you were just so pretty and he was putty in your hands. He let your palms explore him, lifting his tank top up so you could see what the fabric had been concealing. He’d really filled out since school – his arms were toned, his abdomen more defined. He looked like the statue of Apollo, all lean and muscled, but with just the right amount of grit. You liked that he never got his dragon tattoo removed (although, that would’ve been very painful), and that his piercings remained the same. Everything about him seemed untouched, but he’d just gotten better with age. Just the sight of him made your mouth water.
You leaned back down on the bike, bringing him down with you. Your lips pressed against his hungrily, and he was so, so tempted to slip his tongue into your mouth, when he felt his cock hard as a rock in his pants, aching and pulsating. His mouth broke away from yours, and he whispered, quite hopelessly, “I’m so sorry, but I really, really need to be inside you or my dick is going to explode.”
A chuckle escaped your lips, and just the sound of it made Draken smile. You nodded, urging him to continue, and he quickly unzipped the bottom half of his coveralls. He took his cock out: it was long, curved, pink at the tip, and leaking precum on the shop floor. All the more reason to be inside you; he couldn’t have his mechanics seeing that on the floor and wondering what he was doing after hours. He pulled a condom out from his wallet and slid the ribbed rubber on. Lifting both your legs onto his shoulders, your ass was almost rising off the seat and he positioned himself between your thighs, noticing the way your slick was smeared all over his seat. He grunted at the sight of it, slamming his cock into your without thinking.
You cried out, feeling him so deep so quickly. He held your legs up, leaning down as far as he could, and muttered, “Fuck, I’m sorry – so sorry – just … needed to be inside you. Needed to fuck you on my bike.”
You hand came up to cup his chin for a moment. “S’okay,” you promised, “just fuck me like you should’ve done years ago, Draken.”
He knew he told you to call him Ken, but just the nickname falling your lips in such a filthy manner had him groaning. Draken pulled out of you until only the tip remained, and then pounded his cock back inside you. You keened, trying to close your legs, but he held them up by his shoulders. He set a fast pace inside you, unable to keep his moans at bay, and slipped one hand off your leg to snake his fingers up your hoodie, pushing it up to your chin. Pulling your breasts out from your bra, his eyes clouded and played with your sensitive nipples. “So good,” he muttered, teeth sinking into his bottom lip for a moment. “Feels so, so good … needed you for so long, Cherry.”
“I know, I know, Draken,” you whimpered, locking your arms around his neck to bring his face closer to yours, your thighs now curling against your chest. Your back ached against the seat and your legs burned from the uncomfortable position, but you wouldn’t dare push him away, not when he was filling you like this.
With his lips just grazing yours, he tugged on your lip, making you moan, and he fucked into you harder. Your nails were now dragging down his shoulders, leaving marks that he’d think about forever. “Fuck, I’m s’deep … so deep inside you. You’re so warm, so wet – fuck, I’m so close already.”
“Wait for me,” you begged, sighing as his cock curved against your sweet spot. “Wanna cum with you, Draken.”
“I know, Cherry,” he grunted, his pace relentless. Fuck, this was all he ever needed, all he wanted to do, forever. It felt like you were made to take him. “Touch yourself f’me. Cum together … we’ll cum together.”
You nodded quickly, moving your hand in between your bodies, finding your puffy clit so easily. A whine escaped your lips as you fingers rubbed little circles, getting you so close already. You just needed a little push. Draken was slamming into you, his breaths fanning your cheeks, and when he felt your legs start to shake, your walls clenching just a little, he almost died. “Such a good girl …” He cooed, nose brushing yours. “Touching yourself f’me so nicely … fuck, you take me so well … yes, yes, you’re so close. Just like that.”
Your fingers rubbed a little faster, and you knew your orgasm was imminent. With him pushing into you, filling you completely, and the stimulation on your clit … you felt your lips purse into an O-shape. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Draken. I’m gonna … fuck, I’m gonna cum.”
“I know, I know,” he groaned. “Fuck – gonna cum too. That’s a good girl … doing so good – fuck –”
His release came first. He had been close for so long, Draken was surprised he’d been able to hold back. He came with a loud groan, spilling himself into the condom, and it was only seconds later that your jaw went slack with pleasure. His name fell from your lips in a whimper, and you kept rubbing that aching clit through your orgasm, going tight around his cock. He wouldn’t stop fucking into you, even when your orgasm subsided, needing to feel you clench around him for just a moment longer. The way he filled you wasn’t like any other. You never wanted to feel empty again. You couldn’t, not when you knew how Ken Ryuguji felt inside you.
When you both eventually stopped trembling, he gently placed your legs back down on the sides of the bike. They felt sore and limp, but that was the last thing on your mind. You opened your eyes at the same time, and you both couldn’t help but laugh at the position you were in, the absurdity of it all. The workshop smelled like gas and oil, and you were surrounded by broken-down cars. But you two had fucked like you were in a bedroom, on a soft mattress, rather than a motorcycle. You hand went over your mouth to suppress your giggles.
Draken smiled with you, and then removed your hand, liking the way you laughed. “I know it’s been a long time coming, but … can I take you out some night?”
You couldn’t stop smiling even if you tried. “I’d like that, Ken.”
His cock had gone soft, but he was still nestled inside you, basking in your warmth. Draken wished he could be inside you forever, with your fingers playing with his hair. He would give anything for this moment to last, but he knew this position on the bike had to be the most uncomfortable for you, and he needed to take off this condom. He chuckled under his breath.
“Also, in case you were wondering,” he said, lips pulling into a smirk. “You can loiter around my waiting room anytime.”
#my fics#fic: against the law#one shot: against the law#ken ryuguji#draken#ryuguji ken#sano manjiro#tokyo revengers#tr x reader#tr x you#tokyo rev x reader#tokyo revengers smut#ken ryuguji x reader#ken ryuuguji x reader#ken ryuguji smut#ryuguji ken x reader#ken ryuuguji x you#draken x reader#draken smut#draken x you#tokyo revengers x reader#tokyo rev smut#reader insert#x reader
859 notes
·
View notes
Text
Yan! Boyfriend x GN Reader
—𝒀𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒃𝒆𝒓 - 𝑳𝑰𝒇𝑬 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒋𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 , NSFW
Yan! Boyfriend who you thought to be a golden retriever only to have him turn into a Doberman the moment you are away from him.
Yan! Boyfriend who is the "all 5 love language combo" for you and you only!
Act of service? Fun, especially when his head is buried into your crotch. That aside, yes he does all those sweet ass stuffs. Anything you think of, he has done it, even to the very most downbad shit you could think of.
Physical touch? PDA if you are into that, else either a hand around your thigh, squeezing them with love or shit ton of pecks.
Words of affection? 'My love looks so gorgeous as usual! What a refined beauty my love is, no wonder I can't stop falling head over heels for you!' And you were on the bed with bad hair, drooling on your pillow.
Gifting? How many gifts have you received today from him? Starting from something little to something large? The most surprising would be him coming home with a pet for you.
"Ta-daaa! You've been saying you want a pet so I think you will like this!"
Quality time? Not a problem for him. He has a lot of time for you. Hm? Work? Better not question him further about it. All that matters is that it's enough to give the two of you more than enough, even allowing the two of you to laze around. (Unlike Yan! Lawyer Husband and Yan! Antagonist who barely has any time for darling pfft-)
Yan! Boyfriend who is practically on his knees like a dog waiting for his treat when you are about to do something ✨️ r o m a n t i c a l ✨️ on him. Say who's a good boy and you could have sworn you saw his non-existent tail wagging excitedly.
"Who's a good boy hm? Who's a gooood boy??"
"Me! Blue! Blue is a good boy!"
Well, at least he is now because he wasn't when you first met him. He's changed a lot just for you, didn't want to disappoint you the next time you see him.
Yan! Boyfriend is the guy who you can really depend on for everything. Financially? Yes. Wanna beat the fuck out of someone? Call him and that person will have a taste of all the martial arts he has learned back then, not to mention he was quite the delinquent back then. Mentally? Yes. He's always there for you, either making it worse or better.
Yan! Boyfriend who likes to show you off to his friends and co-workers so much as though you are his prized possession. The hand that never leaves your waist and the dagger he shot at the people who stared at you for a bit too long are threatening enough to scare them away. Will definitely have a separate chat with them later,
"The fuck you are looking at my love for hm?"
Ignore how their nose is red and bleeding okay? If only Blue was able to do more, he would have had his fist buried into their face even more and harder like in the good ol' days. Has no choice but to be good else someone might rat to you about his behavior again.
Yan! Boyfriend who really likes to sleep on your lap, being able to feel you this close just makes him feel all giddy like a teenager in love. Would litter kisses and licks if you are not wearing anything that covers your thighs.
Yan! Boyfriend who will almost have the same taste in music as yours because he's just like that. Sucking in everything about you and ends up liking it.
Yan! Boyfriend who will vibe with you nonstop. If you are the crack type person, he will just be as crack as you, making people think whether the two of you are high in crack or not. Will always make you feel like it's okay to do anything you want without having to be embarrassed. Too shy to sing? Well, watch him scream his lungs out (Lemon and Grape chilling with ear muffs) and his hand motioning you tag along.
"BABY WON'T YOU LOOOOVEEE MEEEE"
"What do you say we gag him up with the mic?"
"Great, I'll hold him by the neck."
Yan! Boyfriend who really loves watching you sleep. No, he's not a somnophilic bastard like Yulian. He just adores seeing you resting so peacefully. (while Eleanor panicking over darling sleeping)
Yan! Boyfriend who enjoys cooking breakfast for you. You'll wake up greeted with him standing by the kitchen or sitting by the dining table waiting for you to wake up. Hm? If the food has gone cold because you woke up late, he'll just reheat it. Nothing biggie so no need to feel bad about it ^^
Yan! Boyfriend who is always keeping his mental state in check just in case it cracks open the ugly side of him again. He's embarrassed of it yet he is grateful for it because it brought the two of you to meet. Just staying next to you is enough to keep him sane so try not to stray too far from him okay? He might really snap again and the place you once called home might be nothing but ruins.
"Love you... dear."
Yan! Boyfriend who hates being away from you! If his work suddenly requires him to be somewhere away from you, he will bring you along with him! (I might make a chart of the difference for all the LIfE Pro casts)
"Almost feels like a vacation eh? Let's visit this place once I'm done with work love!"
Although he always brings you along, there are times when he'll have to leave you with Lemon or Grape, either asking them to stay with you or you stay over their place.
"Try not to dent his sport car again yeah? He was yapping at me for hours ahaha! I will ask Grape to watch over you as well, she'll do well as your nanny. Hm? Not a little kid anymore? Oh no no, better be safe than sorry. Don't want those nasty ghosts keeping you awake during the night yeah?"
Afternote:
Blue is my second favorite! Yulian has always been the first so no one sees Blue that much... he's just so sweet... although the story he shares with Eleanor tangles everything up...
#LIfE Project#yandere male#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere scenarios#yandere x you#yandere imagines#male yandere#yandere insert#yandere oc#yandere headcanons#yandere works#yandere writing#reader insert#x reader#oc#x gn reader#yandere husband
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Is It Casual Now? || F2
type :: angst tw/cw :: suggestive/smut (paul) contains :: ollie, kimi, paul, arthur summary :: things that the boys do that make you question your entire relationship with them and yet they act like it was nothing - inspo: "casual" by chappell roan, literally the entire song - i know this song is for the girls but,,, shhh
f1 masterlist || f2 masterlist || more here!
Ollie Bearman | 03 Inviting you to all of his family events
Yet again, for the 4th time this month, you were leaving Ollie's house after having dinner with his family. That's not even counting the times you've gone out with his family to their beach house, their family events, and other places. You even dropped off his little brother to school at times when the family was busy. It was almost as if you were part of them.
At first, you thought it was in a best-friend way, but as the months progressed you couldn't help but feel an increase in tension between you and Ollie. How he looked at you first when he heard a funny joke, how he brushed the hair behind your ears when you ate pasta, or how he'd rest his head on top of yours when you were both waiting for his family.
You hated to admit it, but you fell for him hard, and you were confident he had fallen for you too. Besides the small gestures, the way he treated you has been sweeter than he's ever treated anyone else, even his ex girlfriend.
He started to buy you clothes that coincidentally matched his, perfect to wear when you hangout with his entire extended family. The matching rings you both wore on your right hand's ring finger, almost as if it was a promise ring. The way he called you beautiful under his breath whenever he would pick you up.
The signs were all pointing to one idea: he likes you.
So you finally took the first step, since you knew Ollie has always been quite shy with his crushes. As he opened your car door for you to exit, you stared into his eyes. Despite being pitch black outside, his eyes were still shiny somehow. It's as if God purposely gave him the sweetest and softest eyes ever.
Without thinking, you gave him a swift peck on the lips, hoping that it was good enough: you've never really kissed anyone before. You left the kiss with a small smile while Ollie was left in shock. Hoping he would kiss you back, just like the movies you've seen, but instead he did the opposite.
"Uhm..." He says, raising his hand to whip his lips from your touch. The way his fingers pushed harshly against his lips, like he was disgusted from the small peck. Instantly your heart broke, feeling the panic rush through your veins of possibly ruining your friendship.
But, still, as if Ollie had the heart of a saint he noticed the panic in your eyes and how you flinched back from his movements. "I-I'm sorry, I don't feel the same way." He says softly.
You heard him clearly, his words repeating in your head on loop. But you couldn't process it clearly. How could he not feel the same way when he just dropped you off from dinner with his family? How could he not feel the same way when you two slept in his childhood bed together since he refused to let you sleep on the cold couch in the living room?? How the fuck could he not feel the same when he literally said, "I love you", while brushing your hair as you two got ready for his great-grandfather's FUNERAL together???
It didn't matter, you guess none of those weeks mattered to him either. You ran inside, hiding from him for weeks on end, unable to face the embarrassment and humiliation you felt.
bad ending! | good ending!
Kimi Antonelli | 04 Spending hours alone teaching your Italian
Something Kimi loved to do for you, without you even needing to ask, was care for you in so many ways. So when you expressed how you felt so left out since you didn't understand Italian, he had no hesitation to volunteer to become your personal tutor. This was a dream come true, since he's always been a secret crush of yours.
You saw this as an opportunity to get closer to him whilst gaining a new skill. But looking back on it, you most likely would have never said yes if you knew it would end with you crying your eyes out.
The private sessions started out innocent, just visiting his house and learning basic phrases. But as the weeks and months passed, it became deeper, more intimate. The way he would gently touch your knees together as you studied. The way he would playfully steal your pencil and draw small hearts with your initials together. The way he'd stare at your lips while you spoke Italian, only to say that he could never get tired of you speaking.
It didn't help that as the more intimate the sessions became, the more he insisted that you study in different places. Like him taking you to a fancy Italian restaurant so you could practice ordering in Italian, only for him to introduce you as his girlfriend to the waiter. Even pushing it further to gently hold your hand for a minute as you laughed at a joke he told.
Or when he insisted you should come to his best friend's birthday, so you could practice conversing in Italian with a bunch of different people. And while you chatted with others, he would "grade" your Italian, meaning he rested his hands on your waist the entire party as you spoke to others: clearly establishing you belonged to Kimi.
Or when he begged you to meet his family so you could practice even more, despite being completely fluent at this point. But you went along anyways, with his hand resting on your thigh throughout the entire dinner. His eyes and smile widening every time you spoke, as if he was so proud to be able to show you off to his parents.
Or worst of all, how you refused to call you anything but "amore". Your name was never spoken again by him, only "amore". And looking back at it, you felt so stupid. So stupid to smile so brightly when he called you it, as if you no longer claimed your real name since him.
But you knew that "amore" wasn't commonly used with romantic partners, but instead "tesoro" was. You never wanted to push him on the subject, just assuming he got used to calling you so early. It's not that you minded "amore", but you wanted to test the waters and possibly playfully tease him like how he does to you: oh how wrong you were.
"Kimi," you called for him softly as you rested in his bed whilst he was busy packing for his next trip. His head peaked up, but his eyes stayed focus on his packing. "Why do you always call me "amore" and not "tesoro?"
Instantly, he let out a light scoff, as if you've said something that was basic common sense. He shook his head, still smiling from your statement as he kept packing, not even bothering to answer your question.
"What's so funny?" You say, copying his smile, completely innocent to his actual reason for his smirk. You thought it would be a sweet reason, maybe that he got used to it so fast or that "tesoro" didn't suit you.
"(Y/N)," he says finally looking at you while wearing a smirk, "Tesoro" is for girlfriends only." His smile spoke so many words to you.
Confused, your eyebrows furrowed, "But, are we not girlfriend and boyfriend...?" You said which made Kimi's eyes copy yours, except he was even more confused than you.
"Pfft, what?!" He says, you thought his smile couldn't get wider, but it did as he let out a chuckle, "I'd never date you,"
Instantly, a bang was heard in your heart. It was a critical hit, fatal damage onto your mind. The whiplash you were feeling from just one sentence alone was so overwhelming. As if he couldn't read how hurt you were he pushed even further,.
"Why...?" He asked, looking at you with a slightly concerned face but his smirk stayed on his face, "You didn't think we were actually together, did you?"
bad ending! | good ending!
Paul Aron | 17 Multiple one night stands
Being Paul's teammate for this year was filled with so many fun memories. You were scared at first, worried that you wouldn't be able to get along with him since he seemed cold. But the more you two talked the more you found in common.
Slowly, those forced bonding sessions became natural: even pushing you both to hangout outside of F2. One of your favorite things to do was to follow him to the club and watch him DJ. It was a side passion he had, even jokingly saying it's his backup plan if driving ever goes wrong.
But after one night of partying and getting wasted, you woke up in his bed. Not too odd since you've crashed at his house before, except you were both naked and cuddling in your sleep. When you both woke up, for some reason, neither of you screamed or freaked out. Almost as if you've both been wanting this but never had to guts to admit it. Despite knowing it was against the rules for you to date, you both didn't care.
That one night stand turned into teammates-with-benefits extremely fast. It was awkward at first, having sex while sober was completely different from being shit-face wasted. But despite that, you still felt comfortable with Paul: something that men barely made you feel.
Those nights became so common that even Hi-Tech began to get suspicious of how close you both were, but you constantly shrugged it off as "team bonding". But it so much more than that, much much more.
Unlike other one night stands you've had, it was as if Paul was actually your boyfriend. Telling you how beautiful you looked instead of "sexy" or "hot". Giving you small kisses across your face as you both calmed down from an intense round. Leaving markings on your chest and stomach to create a smiley face as a joke because "who will see?". He even allowed you to do the same, because once again, "who will see?". Establishing how he wasn't doing this with anyone else, and you knew it was wrong, but you were so happy when he admitted that.
Yet again, you two were laying down together in his bed, breathes unsteady from what just happened. His hand was caressing your face gently, as if he cherished you like a gem. His eyes stared into yours, but it didn't feel awkward at all, as if he was reading your soul and you allowed him. The way his lips were stuck in a soft smile as he looked at you spoke thousands of words to you.
So you did something stupid, something that goes against friends-with-benefits 101: asking what you are.
Paul's face quickly dropped his gentle smile and he had a puzzled look on his face, as if you just asked him an impossible math problem. His hand retracted from your face, like you were a hot stove that he touched on accident. The entire mood of the room shifted from loving to tense.
He got out of his bed, putting on his navy blue boxers as he didn't even bother to look up at you as he spoke. "(Y/N), you know we can't date." He says nonchalantly as he put his shirt back on, hiding the scratches you left on his chest. "It's against our contract."
Ironic, since you're there in his bed, naked. Ironic since this is the 10th time in a week that he's texted you to come over. Super ironic, since he was just mumbling how he wouldn't mind letting you have his kids one day. Ironic.
And yet you still felt so stupid. Stupid for asking, stupid for assuming that the man who just kissed you and worshipped you would actually love you.
bad ending! | good ending!
Arthur Leclerc | 65 Refers to you as his girlfriend to scare away fangirls
Being part of the infamous Leclerc family meant a lot of things, such as having girls throw themselves at him every chance they got. Arthur couldn't go to a single event without leaving with at least 20 girls numbers, not even counting the amount of men he also pulled. So one day, as a joke, he asked you to pretend to be his girlfriend.
And you, as a joke, couldn't help but agree, loving the thought of being a fake WAG. The thought of the free gifts, being able to pull off the craziest prank ever, that'd be so fun and funny. So you agreed, agreeing to his stupid joke that ended up ruining your friendship.
It started out easy, giggling as you both bought overly corny and cheesy matching outfits. Getting a gold plated necklace with each other's initials on it, as if you were claiming each other. Even going as far to get ugly pillows with photos of each other on it, something you saw only the corniest couples do.
It was so much fun, so fun to pretend to be a cheesy couple. So much so, that you even took it further than just buying little items and started to act as a couple. Arthur said, the fans would never believe you two were dating if there wasn't at least a pinch of PDA. So, as you both interlocked fingers for the first time, you both chuckled nervously, despite both of you having partners before, it felt different together. As if a secret underlying want has been fulfilled, but you both never spoke about it.
But hand holding wouldn't satisfy the fans, is what Arthur said, you needed to go even further. So Arthur took you on a few dates, which didn't feel too odd since you were close friends beforehand. But the scenery, the hand holding, and the forced acting made the "fake" date feel slightly more real. The way he called you stunning as he stared into your eyes whilst wearing the all black outfit you picked out for him, and you wearing the black dress he choose for you.
But dates wouldn't convince the fans fully, is what Arthur said, as he gently grabbed your face in the moonlight whilst taking a night ride on his boat. He stared into your eyes, as if he's been wanting this for ages, as if he's cherished you for decades. You didn't fight back, going along with this "acting" you both were committing to. So when his lips pressed onto yours, you couldn't help but smile into the kiss, which he quickly copied.
As you withdrew from the kiss, the moonlight reflecting into his hair and face, as if you two were in your own galaxy far from everyone else. The calm crashes of the cold water against the boat was the only sound for miles, if you didn't count how fast your heart was beating as you stared at him. As if he felt the same, he gently reached for your hand, his skin soft and warm, as he placed your palm on his chest: his heart rate was even quicker than yours.
As months passed, this silly "joke" became more and more real. As you casually kisses his cheek after he won a race. As he brushed your hair with his fingers as you fell asleep on his chest. As he gushed about you to interviewers that ever asked about his love life, instantly describing how beautiful you were, inside and out.
So, when you two sat alone on his boat again, staring out into the moonlight, your head resting on his shoulder, you sighed. A sigh of contentment, but also uncertainty. But Arthur knew you well, like the back of his hand, so he reached for your hand on instinct.
"Everything okay?" He asked, his touch still as warm and soft as the first time you first interlocked fingers.
"Arthur," You say with a slightly stern tone yet still filled with care. "What is,,, this." you ask him as you moved your head from his shoulder to sit upright to look at him.
He looked confused, as if he couldn't process what you asked. "What do you mean...?"
"This joke," You said, "This fake dating."
You were hoping he would instantly defend himself, possibly saying "fake?!" with an exaggerated tone of disbelief that you could view it that way. You wanted it to be like the romantic movies that you and Arthur always watched late at night. But instead, you two were the opposite.
"What about it?" He said, still confused, not understanding what you were implying at all. "Do you want to stop?"
"Yes," You say but then shook your head, "Well no, but not really??? I can't lie to you Arthur, you know that," You say, hesitating to continue, "But I, I really do like you."
As he heard that, his eyes widened as his body inched further away from you. It was like instinct, the opposite of what you wanted him to do in every possibly way. He shook his head and looked like he was in disbelief, even chuckling lightly to cope.
"(Y/N)," his sweet tone was gone, the way he said you name sounded condescending despite his smile. The same tone men use when a woman doesn't know how to play football or doesn't understand car mechanics, the stupid misogynistic tone you hated. "This is just for PR, you know that right?"
And instantly, you felt disappointment strike you like lightning, as you realized those months of "fake" dating were truly just that: fake dating. Those soft kisses on your lips as he held your hand down the streets of Monaco, all fake. Those matching outfits and necklaces you both wore 24/7, even in the shower and when you slept, fake. Those times he called you the love of his life to those interviewers which made your stomach do flips, fake.
You couldn't help the way that you eyes teared up, dropping down you face without your permission. As if Arthur suddenly did a complete 180, he backed up even further, as if he never had a empathic loving bone in his body. He was shocked, awkward, and frozen. Instead of even offering some comfort, he stood up and looked down at you with pity. He left you alone on the front of his ship, crying into the sleeves of his hoodie that he let you borrow.
bad ending! | good ending!
f1 masterlist || f2 masterlist || more here!
#f2#formula 2#ollie bearman#ollie bearman x reader#kimi antonelli#kimi antonelli x reader#paul aron#paul aron x reader#arthur leclerc#arthur leclerc x reader#f2 x reader#formula 2 x reader#prema racing#hitech#is it casual now?
406 notes
·
View notes
Text
Lowkey, I Need You (To Move Out) 18+
♡ Pairing: Changbin x Fem!Reader
♡ Genre: friends with benefits, friends to lovers, roommates to lovers, angst, fluff, smut with plot, mutual pining but especially lots of pining from binnie
♡ Word Count: 12k
♡ Summary: Changbin has a problem– he’s in love with his friend with benefits. And not only is he in love with her, but she’s also his roommate. Torn on what to do, the only thing he knows for certain is that something has to change soon– but is he even brave enough to spark that change, and risk their friendship?
♡ Warnings: miscommunication, but it's resolved quickly!, bin is lil insecure but we're here to make it better !!, gets a bit emotional because truly this is a love letter to changbin and how much i adore him
♡ Smut Warnings: multiple smut scenes, switch!bin with a heavy sub lean, as usual changbin is an extremely soft and perfect lover, pet names (baby, bun, bunny, honey, sweet + good boy), oral (m + f rec), fingering (f rec), nipple play, begging, a tiny bit of edging, spit as lube, cock warming, unprotected piv, creampie, praise kink, body worship, face sitting
♡ Notes: this was written in response to the topic of binnie being excluded, because as a bin biased girlie it's my job to show out for him when he needs the extra love! i've been wanting to write a fwb for SO long and in true changbunnies fashion this turned out longer than i intended it to be but i just had so much fun writing it and giving binnie the attention he deserves, so i hope you enjoy it too !!
♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.
What do you do when you realize you've fallen in love with your friend with benefits? And what do you do when said friend is also your roommate? The conclusion that Changbin has reached is simple: spiral.
Well, not that spiraling is an actual choice in this scenario– he can't stop it from happening despite how desperately he wants to. He knows you aren't looking for a relationship right now, that you like what you have together because it's casual and fun.
You swore off dating apps and relationships after having your heart broken one too many times, and the only reason you're friends with benefits with Changbin is because you trust him– a trust that he is loath to break by dropping the revelation that he's fallen in love with you.
You were away from your shared apartment for the past week and a half, on a trip back to your home town to visit family. It was exhausting, but fun enough when your parents weren't driving you up the wall by pestering you with questions about when you're going to start bringing a boyfriend back home with you, you told Changbin on the phone last night whilst packing to come back to the city.
He hated the way his heart sank to the pit of his stomach when he considered the fact that he'll never be the boyfriend going home with you to meet your family. And he wants to be, fucking hell, does he want to be yours.
He wants to tell you he loves you and have it mean something more than the platonic love between friends, to take you on dates and freely hold your hand when walking through the city streets together, to share a bed with you for more than just a fuck.
How many times has he wanted to pull you back to him when you start to get up from his bed? To reach out and beg you to stay when you start to get dressed? To knock on your door late at night and lay everything out on the line because the way it keeps him up at night is becoming unbearable?
Fuck, he can't keep dwelling on it– you've been on your way home since this morning, and you're due back any minute now. It'll be disastrous for Changbin if you walk through the door and realize something's off with him.
His heart twisted when he checked his phone and saw a new text, one excitedly telling him you're almost home and that you've missed him– but was it really him you missed, or just fucking him? He didn't know anymore, and he was afraid to find out.
Changbin jumps when he hears the lock to the front door click, taking a breath to calm his racing heart as he rises to his feet to help you with your luggage and welcome you back home.
He’s spent enough time spiraling over what to do this past week, he can’t afford to anymore; not if he wants to keep his sanity intact, anyways. He can do this– once you get settled, he can have a heart to heart with you, and everything will be fine. Even if it’s too much to confess his feelings, surely there’s a way to go about things where you’re both still happy, right?
Changbin did a lot around the apartment to make it perfect for you upon your return– cleaned and dusted every common room until they were spotless, made sure not a single dirty dish was left in the sink, emptied every trash can.. He even unclogged the drains and scrubbed the tub! He just wanted to make sure you didn’t have a single thing to do, that you could just relax and unwind in clean comfort after your trip.
But you don’t spare a single glance around the apartment once you enter– you look just at him, smiling as you kick the door closed behind you, and drop your luggage to the floor to squeeze him into a hug.
He blinks a moment in surprise at how quick the action is– he didn’t even have the chance to get a word out before you were on him. Still, he quickly returns the hug while trying his best to prevent the happy, almost relieved sigh you let out as you bury your head into his chest from giving him false hope.
“You really missed me this much?” Changbin asks with a small giggle– why is he even asking? So much for not giving himself false hope. He just blurted it out without thinking, really; but he can’t pretend the way you affirm it doesn’t make his heart swell.
It was the longest you’d ever been apart from Changbin since moving in together, and it put a lot of things into perspective. Like, you really did miss him, of course you did, he’s your friend! But there was something more– you don’t think you’d ever missed someone so fucking badly before.
Like, staying up all night because you can’t stop thinking about him type of ‘I miss you.’ Wanting to text him or call him at all hours of the day just to check up on him and ask what he’s been up to even though you’re supposed to be focusing on your family and reuniting with childhood friends.
You missed everything about him– his smile and cute laugh, the way he smells, his big arms wrapped around you and squeezing you close. You wanted to hear his voice again, and not through the grainy speaker of your phone, wanted to see him without your parent’s shitty old wifi connection lagging your call, and making him pixelated and blurry.
Changbin is your home, you realized; wherever he is is where you want to be. As long as he’s there, you’d have everything you need to be happy. Is that too sentimental of a feeling for just friends?
Yes, you know it is– and every time you felt it for him before, you shoved it down as deep you could, not ready to get your heart broken again just yet. Better to hold onto him for as long as you can, before he cuts things off to start dating again.
But of course, you can’t deny you also missed him in other, less than innocent ways. The squeak he lets out when you surprise him with a kiss, the cute way he blushes and giggles when you compliment him or call him his favorite pet name, the way he’ll easily drop to his knees for you the moment you tell him you need him.
He never cares what he’s in the middle of or what he needs to get done– if you tell him you want him, he’s ready for you, eager to please. Even if he loses sleep, if it makes him late for work, if it means the food on the stove is going to burn– none of it matters if you need his tongue on you. And you’ll reward him, you always do; with sweet words and touches that makes his heart feel like it’s going to beat out of his chest while his cock throbs.
“Missed you more than you know,” you say in a near whisper, pressing your lips to his like you’ve been eager to do since walking through the door. Changbin practically melts when you kiss him, as always; he just can’t help it– he’s forever going to be putty in your hands.
Was he right in his fear that you only missed him for the sex? Maybe, but he can’t even dwell on the idea anymore– not when the urgency in which you start touching him underneath his shirt while sliding your tongue in his mouth makes him weak at the knees.
Fuck it, maybe that is all you want him for these days, but he’d never stop giving you what you want. Use him over and over, run his heart into the ground when it’s done, what does it matter? At least in this moment he’s yours, even if it’s only temporary.
You grab Changbin by the waist and turn him around, pressing his back against the front door to the apartment. One of his feet very nearly gets caught up on your luggage on one of his steps back, but you kick it to the side, away from the two of you. His sound of surprise is muffled by your mouth on his, as is his gasp when your hands travel up to squeeze his pecs.
You can feel his body shudder when your thumbs brush over his nipples, letting out a whine when you pinch them between your fingers. He’s breathless by the time you pull away, watching you with that eager look in his eyes that makes you crazy for him. “B-Baby, what are you-” he tries to ask as you fall to your knees, though the last word dies in his throat when you look back up at him with a smile.
He still remembers the first time he slipped up and called you “baby.” You were on top of him, riding him so good that all he could do was babble on and on about how good it felt while gripping the bed sheets beneath him. “S-So good, oh my god, baby, it’s– you’re so good, feels so good,” he whimpered, whining loudly when you stopped moving to just look at him.
Changbin was going to ask why you stopped, beg you to please, please keep going, but then it hit him all at once– he called you ‘baby’ when it was never something either of you had done before. And instantly, he looked up at you utterly mortified with himself, ready to apologize over and over again for crossing the line in your friends with benefits relationship.
While the arrangement didn’t come with strict rules, such as no kissing for example, he still was concerned that it was a touch too far in the ‘romantic relationship’ direction. But to his surprise, and relief, you smiled at him, calling him sweet names in return after picking your pace back up. You continued to try out names, gauging his reaction carefully until you found the one that seemed to make him react the most.
And now here you are, looking up at him with his cock pulled out of his sweatpants and throbbing in your hands, calling him the name that turns his brain and body to jelly. “Want to show you how badly I missed you, bunny,” you told him before pressing a lingering kiss to his already leaking tip, his pre-cum smearing over your lips.
Thank fucking God you pressed him against the door, because if he didn’t have the support he’s pretty sure his legs would’ve given out. It’s not often that you’re the one on your knees for him, and the sight is so erotic it makes his brain feel like it’s going to melt out of his ears– not to mention the way you’re talking to him on top of it.
“So hard and leaky already,” you comment gleefully, sticking out your tongue to lick over his tip, “you missed me too, didn’t you, bun?”
“Y-Yeah, missed you, I missed you so much,” Changbin replies breathlessly, struggling to keep his hips still and not rut against your hands. He bites his lip, restraining the whimpers that threaten to endlessly spill when you open your mouth to take him in.
You don’t waste any time getting the corners of your mouth used to the stretch, or for Changbin to get used to the feeling after having gone without it for so long; you take him all at once, until his tip is touching the back of your throat and your nose is pressed against his pelvis.
His head falls back against the door as he squeezes his eyes shut, slapping his hand over his mouth to muffle the obscenely loud moan you draw out of him. Normally he pays no mind to his volume because he knows you prefer him loud, but he’d be beyond embarrassed if any neighbors walking the hall heard him just on the other side of the door.
You swallow around his length, and it takes effort to not gag given how thick and heavy he is, but you manage just fine. Breathing through your nose, you stroke his cock with your tongue whenever you need to give your throat a tiny break, sometimes pulling back to take a bigger breath and let more air into your lungs before sucking him into your mouth again.
Changbin cards his fingers through your hair, but doesn’t pull– just holds your head in an effort to ground himself. His thighs are trembling, and he’s seemingly given up on trying to be quiet, or is simply too far gone to care anymore, the hand he was using to cover his mouth now clenched into a fist at his side.
“W-Wait, wait, baby, please wait, don’t wanna cum yet,” he pleads as his stomach clenches, the twitching and throbbing of his cock growing more in intensity. He’s lifted his head from the door, looking down at you now and meeting your gaze as you blatantly ignore his request and continue to swallow him down your throat.
“Please, please, your pussy– want your pussy, honey, please,” he tries again, chest heaving as he begs, the fingers threaded through your hair now clenching into a fist as well, but still, he doesn’t pull you off him. That’s one of the things you like most about Changbin– he’s so strong that it’d be easy for him to make you do whatever he wants, but he doesn’t.
Even now, as desperate as he is to be inside your pussy, he’s obedient, first and foremost. How can you resist giving him what he wants when he’s so sweet, perfect and well behaved? You pull off him with a loud ‘pop,’ watching the way his cock throbs pathetically against his stomach as his impending orgasm begins to ebb away.
You expect him to take a longer moment to recover, but even with how breathless he is, he’s leaning down to pick you up from the floor. You can’t help but let out a squeal as you’re lifted from the ground– you know very well that Changbin is strong, but it always surprises you how effortlessly he can lift your weight. Excites you too, if you’re being completely honest.
He has you in a full princess carry, one arm supporting your back while the other is under your knees. You know he won’t drop you, but you wrap your arms around his neck anyway for the extra security. He shows his appreciation for you with so many kisses over your face that you can’t help but giggle, and he holds you tighter when his kisses cause you to squirm in his grasp.
“Don’t tickle me with kisses when I can’t escape you,” you half-heartedly complain, and he giggles with you, pressing one more to your nose before he starts walking away from the front door. “We’re going to your room,” he informs you, figuring that’s where you’d prefer to me after having been away from home.
Your luggage lies forgotten on the floor as he makes his way past the open kitchen and living room, and into the hallway leading to your rooms. Standing in front of your door, you lean in his grasp to twist the door knob, and he gently nudges the door open further with his foot. Your bedroom is just how you left it a week and a half ago, and Changbin sets you down on your bed carefully.
“Are you going to undress yourself for me?” you ask with an expectant tilt of your head, and he blushes ever so slightly as he shyly giggles and nods. It never fails to make him a little shy when you watch him undress like this, but he also takes pride in the way you look at him. Hungry, but somehow still tender and sweet.
He starts with his sweatpants and underwear, considering his cock is still out from when you pulled them down just enough to get it out. Kicking his feet out once they’ve fallen to the floor, his shirt is next, and he very quickly pulls it up and over his head. “My baby,” you coo at him after beckoning him closer, and it makes his head spin.
It’s the first time you’ve used a possessive term with him. Your baby.. Yes, whether you know it or not, he’s yours. Only yours.
“You’re so handsome, you know that?” you continue, smiling when the pink on his flushed cheeks deepens, “And sexy, and adorable, and lovable.” You love complimenting him– even before you were friends with benefits, you’d tell him sweet things whenever you could. It took him a long time to grow into himself and get comfortable and confident in his own skin, and he deserves the pride and joy he feels now.
Lovable is a new one, and he tries not to let it root itself inside his head– you certainly do love him, but just as a friend, he knows it. You’ve always been sweet to him, and he’s certain that your doting on him and sweet gestures increased only because of the slight change in your relationship, and no other reason.
Regardless, does the reason matter? You’re complimenting him earnestly, and that’s enough. Even if it’s said without romantic intent, you do mean it– and that’s all he needs, really.
“Help me out with my own clothes now, won’t you, sweet boy?” you ask, and he gives you an excited nod that makes you giggle again. You lift your back off the bed so he can help you with your top and bra, then lift your legs so he can help you out of your pants and underwear when you let your back fall against the bed again.
He kisses you the entire time he’s getting you out of your clothes, only breaking away when he has to. “Gonna get you ready for me,” he breathes out near the shell of your ear before planting a kiss there, and then trailing them down your neck. He slides his hand between your legs as he does, and you spread them apart for him to make his task easier for him.
You both know you can handle the sting from his cock stretching you out, sometimes you even crave it– but you can never deny his desire to be sweet to you. If he wants to stretch you out on his fingers first, you’ll let him do it every time.
“Oh, honey, you’re so wet,” he gasps as he runs his fingers between your folds. It shouldn’t be much of a surprise, really– you always get soaking wet when you and Changbin are being intimate. Still, it always surprises him as much as it did your first time together; he supposes there’s a part of him that still can’t believe you’re this physically attracted to him, even with how much you shower him with compliments.
Of course, if you knew he had that thought, you’d shower him with even more of them, until there wasn’t a single doubt left in his mind. He’s perfect, truly; there’ll never be anyone who can compare to Changbin.
You don’t need him to start slow or careful, but he does regardless, starting by pressing just one of his fingers to your hole before sliding it inside. He knows you can take more at once, would even enjoy the sting that would follow, but he wants to be good to you! When you’re full of him, so thick that you’re full to the point it’s almost too much, he wants it to be pure bliss.
Changbin pumps his finger in and out of you slowly, waiting until he’s certain you’re about to start whining for more before adding a second, and after just a little more he’s adding a third. He keeps his fingers still for just a moment, making sure you’re well adjusted before he starts to thrust them in and out in the way he knows you love.
And God, even though it’s you that’s getting fucked right now, he feels like he’s going a little crazy. He’s so addicted to the noises you make, the way your breathing starts to hitch and turn more shallow, how your eyes roll back when he hits that gummy spot inside you. You’re so fucking slick, and squeezing his fingers so tight that he can barely even think straight– not that he was entirely to begin with.
Is it just because it’s been over a week since the last time you were together? He never thought himself so insatiable or easily worked up, but fuck, you just unlock something in him. He’s had sex plenty of times before you started sleeping together, had plenty of fun experiences with different partners, but only you make me feel so.. needy.
“Binnie, baby, want your cock now, give it to me, please,” you whine, voice impossibly pretty and breathless. “Ah but– are you sure, baby? Don’t want me to make you cum first?” he asks as he slows down the motion of his fingers.
“We’ve both waited long enough, haven’t we?” you ask, rhetorical; it’s much more a statement than a question. You look at his cock, still leaking steadily and impossibly hard, and then look back to Changbin’s face. “Let’s cum together. That’s what I want,” you tell him, and you can’t help but notice the way his cock twitches from your words in your peripheral.
Of course, he can’t resist doing whatever you want– especially not when there’s a promise to cum together at the end. So he slips his fingers out of you, and before he can even ask what you’d like him to do, you’re putting your hands on his shoulders and guiding him to his back.
He falls to his back easily, swallowing as he watches you crawl on top of him. You’ve done it countless times at this point, but it never stops being sexy and exciting to watch. Your hands planted firmly on his chest, and your legs straddling his body, you move your hips back and forth, rubbing your pussy up and down his length to get it wet.
His tip rubbing against your clit feels so fucking good too, but that’s not why you’re doing this; so you quickly move on before you get carried away and end up grinding on him until you cum. Reaching your hand between your bodies, you grab his cock at the base and angle it where you need it.
Changbin watches with eager eyes and bated breath, his hands holding your hips for extra support. Even when you start to slowly sink down on him, and you’re both gasping and breathless from the pleasure, he’s careful to not squeeze you too hard. He’s always so tender and careful, even when doesn’t need to be, and you love him for it.
And true to what he hoped, there’s no sting when you’re fully sat on him, the stretch nothing but pleasurable for you. Because of this, it also means you don’t have to start slow– and so within just a few short moments, you’re bouncing on him rapidly, leaning down to kiss him as you do.
He has long since stopped being embarrassed about the noises you draw out of him, whimpering and moaning freely as the pleasure seeps into every pore of his body. Your tongue once again slips its way into his mouth, and he meets it eagerly with his own, happy to slide it around yours.
Bouncing on his cock, and kissing him like this, he can’t help but be reminded of the very first time you slept together. You had just freshly agreed to the friends with benefits arrangement, both of you lonely and in need of some intimacy, but being done with relationships for the time for your own reasons.
You took the lead, and it was the first time anyone ever had– he was so used to being the macho man in charge for his lovers, that he found it interesting and exciting that you wanted to be the one in control. You told him what to do, how to do it, praised him and guided him along, had him lay down while you crawled on top and did all the work for him after you were ready to take his cock.
And to his surprise, he instantly liked it– loved it, even. He never considered before then letting someone else have the leading role in bed, but after you started, it just felt natural. And when you leaned down and kissed him in that moment, when everything was so different for him and exciting, it felt like everything shifted, like the entire world titled on its axis.
Maybe he’s been in love with you since then, but only fully realized what he felt recently. Maybe he’s been in love since even further before, but didn’t have the tools then to put that feeling together, because the line between friend and lover can sometimes be blurry. Maybe he’s been a fool this entire time, and continues to be one now– because he knows what he feels now for certain, but is still too scared to admit it to you.
He’s thankful that your tongue in his mouth prevents him from speaking– because he’s certain if it wasn’t, he’d end up saying something he shouldn’t. It doesn’t stop him from having the thoughts internally, however.
“You’re so perfect, I love you, I love you so much, I need you, need you to need me, love you,” his brain is screaming as his orgasm approaches once more. The noises leaving him growing more in volume and desperation is enough of a warning for you on its own that he’s close, but you can feel him throbbing too, eager for release after how close he was to cumming earlier.
You reach your hand between your bodies once more, this time to rub your clit with your fingers. It makes your pace falter a bit, but Changbin is more than used to helping you in the last stretch like this. He helps you keep your pace with his hands, and thrusts up into you in time with the fall of your hips onto his.
“C-Cumming, oh, bunny, you’re making me cum,” you whimper, biting your lip and furrowing your brow as the circles you draw on your clit grow messy. You gasp when your orgasm hits you, your breath catching in your throat as your mouth hangs open in a silent cry. Changbin was already close, and the way you squeeze around him as you cum unravels him too.
His cum shoots inside you, hot and sticky, his entire body trembling as he whimpers and whines beneath you. He’s not sure when he closed his eyes, but when he opens them he sees you looking down at him with such a beautiful smile that he truly feels like he died and went to heaven– because fuck, you’re an angel.
Changbin reaches a hand up, tucks your messy, fallen strands of hair behind your ears, smiling when you coo and call him a “sweet boy,” again. You let your body fall against his chest, resting your head in the crook of his neck as you close your eyes and let out a content sigh. “Baby?” he questions, giggling a little when you mumble about being tired against his skin.
“We have to get you cleaned up,” he reminds you, though the way he strokes your back surely doesn’t give you any motivation to get off him. “And you need to go to the bathroom before you fall asleep!” he adds, and you hum an acknowledgment, but still make no effort to crawl off him. Instead, your body relaxes even further, and soon enough you’re not even responding to him talking to you anymore.
You’ve fallen asleep much quicker than Changbin would’ve ever expected; he’s sure you’re tired from the days you spent away and the trip back home, and the fact that you fucked him immediately upon getting home likely didn’t do you any favors in keeping the fatigue at bay.
But he’s still here in your bed, beneath you, your body warm and soft and entirely limp as serene snores leave you. He’s not sure if he should try to wiggle his way out from under you, or just stay like this and sleep together. He knows what he wants to do, but.. he’s never spent an entire night in your room, nor have you done so in his.
And all he can think about while he looks up at your ceiling with you in his arms is how much he loves you but can’t tell you.
Fuck. What does he do now?
It’s been days since Changbin has had the chance to speak with you, but whether or not that’s entirely a good thing remains to be seen– because even with the distance to sort himself out, his mind remains addled and plagued by the desire to be with you as a lover.
Thankfully, you haven’t noticed anything off with him– mostly because the distance since arriving back home was due to your own need to catch up on sleep, unpack your belongings, and get ready to go back to work and resume life as usual. Whenever you’re not sleeping, you’re busy, and that works for Changbin– or it was supposed to, anyways.
All he’s done the last few days is get back into his spiral. Confess his feelings or not, risk your friendship or keep everything to himself, move out before he loses his mind or stay until the day you decide you’re done.. He wishes there was a simple, easy answer. More than that, he wishes he could guarantee that you’d stay with him if he laid his feelings bare for you.
And he misses you. You’re only a room away across the hall, but he misses you. And he doesn’t fucking know what to do with himself anymore. He’s been trying to sleep for hours now, but all he can do is toss and turn and think about you, how bad he needs you– not just emotionally, but physically too. Because the moment he started thinking about you, it was only a matter of time before he began to reminisce about the sex you’ve had.
Is his brain fucking against him, or what? As if it wasn’t bad enough he was in a spiral over the possibility of you rejecting his feelings, now he can’t stop thinking about how pretty you looked after your shower this morning. He only saw you in passing, as he had to head out for work and you had to get back to catching up on the work emails that piled up in your inbox while you were away, but God..
If it wasn’t for the fact that you really needed to get your work done before going back to the office when the weekend’s over, he would’ve dropped to his knees right there in the middle of the hallway and eaten you out until you were begging him to stop (or forcing him to by pulling his hair.) He wouldn’t even have cared about his own job– Chan would forgive him, he always did.
And truly, this is agony. Worse than agony, it’s torture. He needs to go take a cold shower and calm the fuck down so he can start thinking rationally again– as rationally as he can manage to in his lovesick state, anyways. With a heavy sigh, he throws his blankets off himself and reaches for his glasses on his nightstand. After putting them on, he rises from his bed, hoping the shower will be enough of a reset to let him get some sleep.
Opening his door, he’s surprised to see you’re awake. Well, he can’t see you just yet from the hallway, but he can see that the lamp in the living room is turned on, and can faintly hear the tv playing lofi focus music. And even though he probably shouldn’t, he can’t resist walking over to check in on you.
He can hear you typing away on your laptop as he gets closer, and you look away from the screen and turn your head in his direction when you hear his footsteps over the softly playing music. “Oh, Binnie!” you smile at him, and it’s so genuine it makes his heart flutter. He’s so fucking screwed. “Couldn’t sleep?” you ask him, taking a small break from responding to emails to give him your attention.
“O-Oh, yeah, well I was trying to sleep, but..” he trails off when he sees you glancing down his body, to the painfully obvious erection straining against his shorts. “Had a problem?” you finish for him, and his face instantly flushes red. It’s not like it’s the first time you’ve caught him with an erection, but it always makes him feel so perverted when it happens this way.
“I can help you,” you offer, shooting him that pretty smirk that always turns him into jello. Fuck, you’re a siren, and he’s helpless to resist you. But still, aren’t you busy? As much as he’s willing to fuck up his own work performance for you, he’d feel terrible if his neediness made your own work harder for you.
“I-I was going to shower and take care of it myself, but I saw you were awake and I just wanted to see what you were doing and.. Anyways, you don’t have to! Seriously, I know you’re busy! It’s okay, I don’t-” he babbles, and you giggle at him. He’s just so cute, especially when he’s trying his best to be considerate to you.
“C’mere. I can’t help you right this minute but good boys like you know how to be patient, right? You can sit pretty here until I’m done with my emails?” you ask, patting the spot next to you on the sofa. Shit, you always know just what to say to him.
He listens to your siren song, coming to where you beckon him to sit like the obedient boy you know him to be. “Take your cock out for me, baby,” you instruct, and again he listens, not a single ounce of hesitance as he slides his shorts down enough for his erection to spring free. He watches as you set your laptop on the coffee table and stand up, curious as to what you’re doing.
Changbin gulps when you slide your own shorts down your legs, as well as your panties, and fuck, he’s excited, but more than that he’s confused. He thought you told him he’d have to wait until you were done with your emails.. So why are you undressing already..?
Maybe this is to keep him hard and eager– make him sit there with a view of your bare pussy so that by the time you’re done, he’s desperate and begging for you. Maybe you want to test the limits of your “good boy,” see how riled up you can make him while you work until he snaps and bends you over the sofa, taking you as he pleases.
You stand in front of him with your back facing him, and though it’s a bit awkward and challenging, you reach behind and take his cock into your hand. “Spit on it, get it wet for me,” you tell him, and though his mind is still reeling from the unexpected development, he does as you ask.
You spread his saliva around his length as best you can with your fingers, and when you’re content, you carefully press his cock to your hole. It takes you a second to get the angle right thanks to the position, but once you’ve got it, you slowly start to sink down. Changbin gasps and whines, bewildered by what’s happening right now. “B-Baby, I- what- what are you doing? I thought- I don’t-”
“You’re still going to wait,” you tell him after you’ve fully sat in his lap, doing your best to keep your voice steady and firm despite how deliciously his cock is stretching out. “Be good for me, and stay still ‘til I’m done, okay? And then I’ll take care of you,” you tell him, and again he whines as he watches you lift your laptop from the coffee table and set it back in your lap.
It’s a little awkward to type like this, but you think the fun that’ll result from it is worth it. Changbin eagerly nods his head, but then he remembers that you can’t see him in this position, so he speaks the best he can. “Y-Yes, I’ll be good for you,” he says with a shaky breath, biting his lip when you squirm ever so slightly to get more comfortable.
You lean back into him, his chest pressing against your back, his face close enough to your neck and shoulder that you can feel his labored breaths tickling your skin. He hears a click on your touchpad, opening a new email he assumes, followed shortly by the sound of keys resuming as you respond to it.
Why is this so fucking hot? His dick is fully pressed inside you, and you’re not even paying attention to him– just continuing to type away on your laptop as if he’s not even losing his mind beneath you. Or should he say behind you? Both?
He bites his lip and closes his eyes, trying his best to keep staying still like you told him to, his hands clutching the sofa cushions to keep them from wandering without permission and distracting you from your work.
And God, he’s trying so hard to be quiet too, but it feels so impossible. The more you type away and click open new emails, the more he throbs. And the more he throbs, the more your pussy reacts by squeezing around him. And then he can’t help but whimper, his eyes rolling back when you adjust in his lap and cause the tiniest bit of friction.
Click, more typing. A few more clicks, more typing. Click, click, more typing. How long has it even been? Since the moment you sank down on him and started working, he feels like he’s lost all sense of time. All he knows is that your pussy has been squeezing him so good– and it’s so wet now too. Is it just as exciting for you as it is for him? Do you like it? Or is it how good he’s being for you that’s making you soak his cock?
“B-Baby, are you almost done? Please tell me you’re almost done,” Changbin whines, the desperation in his voice palpable. You chuckle as you click send on another email, wishing you could see his face right now– you’re sure he’s absolutely debauched. “Not quite,” you answer, and you can practically hear the pout in his whine.
Changbin is many things, but impatient and disobedient is not among the list. And he’s trying so, so hard to keep staying still, but he doesn’t think he can take it much longer. Honestly, you’re not sure if you can either– you’re quickly losing focus on your emails, and you’re fairly certain at least a handful of them were written less than professionally.
Still, you click open another one, trying not to react to the way he desperately whimpers. He can’t be bad, he can’t– so his only option is to keep sitting here, and take it. “You’re- you’re almost done now, right?” he asks after another few minutes of waiting– at least, it felt like that to him. For all he knew, in reality it could’ve been more like 30 seconds.
“What’s wrong, baby? Can’t wait anymore?” It’s a bit of a mean question, you know– especially since you already know the answer. But still, it’s fun to ask, and you love how whiny and breathy his voice has gotten in the time you’ve been sitting on his cock.
“I-I’m sorry, I’m really trying, I just- I-I’ve never wanted to fuck you so bad before, I’m going crazy,” he practically cries, and you’re sure that if you turned around, you’d see his plump lips formed into the cutest, most devastating pout. “But I’m- I’m good,” he continues after taking another shaky breath, “I won’t move, not unless you tell me to, I promise.”
Fuck it– you still have work, but who cares? Surely your boss will understand if you couldn’t get to every email right? You got through most of them, and that counts for something, doesn’t it? That’s the justification you give yourself anyways as you close your inbox.
“You want to fuck me, Binnie?” you ask him, and he eagerly nods just as he did before, remembering again at the last moment that you can’t see him. “Yes, yes! I really, really want to,” he replies, letting out a salacious moan when you start to lift off him. You shut your laptop and place it back on the coffee table before you turn around to look at Changbin.
Just as you expected, he looks deliciously debauched. Lips swollen and bitten red, face flushed, eyes sparkling with hope and desire as he looks up at you. “You’re right baby, you’re good. Such a good boy,” you coo at him, leaning down to kiss him sweetly. “How do you want me?” you ask him when you pull back, and his brain has to work overtime to stop itself from short circuiting from the question.
If you’re letting him pick, there’s one clear answer that’ll make him the happiest. “Lay down- on your back, please. Want to look at you, want you to look at me,” he says, and you smile at him as you lay back against the sofa, spreading your legs so Changbin can crawl between them. He kisses you as he takes his cock in his hand, pressing it against your hole before pulling away to look at you for approval.
“Go ahead, fuck me, bunny,” you encourage him sweetly. A shiver runs down the length of his spine as he starts to push back inside you, another obscene whine from deep in his throat leaving him when he’s fully inside. He leans down to kiss you again when he starts to fuck you earnestly, because that’s all he can think to do with his overwhelming wave of emotions.
He’s thrusting fast from the start, all the pent up desperation and need for you pouring out of him ceaselessly. Your eyes always stay on his, even when he hits your spot in the way that normally makes them close or roll back, and it makes him crazy how you’re catering to his desire to have you looking at him.
Your eyes are so pretty, so warm in the way they look at him. Everything about you is warm– your hands when they hold him, your body when it envelops him, your voice when you speak to him. The way you smile at him when he enters the room, the way you laugh at his stupid jokes, it’s warm, all of you is so, so warm. You’re home, you’re comfort, you’re bliss.
He feels like he’s unraveling in his entirety as he looks down at you, his pace quickly growing sloppy as his cock throbs. He can’t handle the way you’re looking up at him, can feel the tears threatening to well up in the corners of his eyes. He’s so overwhelmed by it all– by the pleasure, by the way you look lying beneath him, by how much he loves you.
“You’re so beautiful, oh my god,” he whines, every thought that’s been running through his mind falling from his lips as he squeezes you in his arms. He knows he should shut up, should bite his lip or slap his hand over his mouth before he says something he shouldn’t, but the words just keep pouring out of him.
“You’re so pretty, so fucking pretty, I can’t take it sometimes,” he continues, whimpering when you bring your fingers to your clit and start to squeeze around him tighter. “You- you make me so crazy, you’re perfect, so perfect, and- God, ‘m so close, love you so much, I love you,” he stutters, his eyes rolling back as he feels you start to cum with him. He presses his cock fully into you one last time, his cum spurting out in thick ropes until you’re full.
He’s panting, glasses fallen down to the tip of his nose, body trembling as he slowly starts to come down from the high. “Binnie,” you call him softly, and it’s not until he opens his eyes and looks at you again that what he said hits him like a ton of bricks.
He told you he loves you. While he was fucking you. He told you he loves you.
There’s no way to turn it out around as platonic in this scenario– it’s so fucking obvious how he meant it. To say he’s mortified is an understatement; and when he tries to speak, all that comes out are pathetic stutters, every explanation he wants to offer dying in his throat. Your eyes are watery as you look at him, and suddenly his throat feels impossibly dry, his hands clammy as he pulls out of you.
He fucked up so bad. He ruined everything, he knows he did– this isn’t how he wanted to tell you, he wasn’t even ready to tell you. And now you know, and you’re looking at him with so much concern he feels like he’s going to shatter. Not anger, not sadness, but care– a care entirely different from what he’s seen on you before.
It’s pity, isn’t it? You don’t share the sentiment and you pity him for blurting it out like that. “You love me?” you ask him, your voice soft but cautious, unsure. “I..” Changbin tries again, but honestly he just wants to cry. Every emotion, every word, lodged in his throat and stuck, but still he tries to explain himself. “I’m sorry, I- I didn’t mean-”
You’ve always loved Changbin. Since the early days of your friendship, you’ve loved him. How could you not? You’d never met someone as sincere as him, his every action so affectionate and caring. A gentleman through and through, always making sure the people he loves are taken care of, always the first to offer a helping hand when someone is in need.
But you’d given up on the idea that you could have something more so long ago– and becoming friends with benefits with him told you that he didn’t love you romantically. He was the first to offer, and people don’t offer that arrangement if it risks their feelings getting exposed; so he didn’t love you that way, you were certain.
You told yourself you were okay with that. You were done with relationships, so tired of having your heart broken after pouring all of your love and faith into someone. And sure, you’d be heartbroken again when Changbin inevitably decides to move on, but at least it was a heartbreak you accepted would come, you’d be ready for it– that’s what you always told yourself.
But he loves you? Like, is in love with you? And he’s mistaking your surprise, your teary eyes, your struggle to wrap your head around the fact that he loves you as much as you love him as rejection. You can see it in the panic in his eyes, the way he stumbles over his words, the tremble in his voice– he thinks you don’t love him.
How could he ever think you don’t love him?
“Changbin, I-” you try again, and somehow the fact that you’re using his full name hurts worse; it's like a confirmation that you’re done with him, with this. It’s irrational, but the part of his brain that’s trying to talk sense into him is drowned out by the panic and fear of rejection, as if he can protect himself from the pain by accepting the fact that you don’t love him now before you say it out loud.
“I need- I need a minute, I’m so sorry,” he blurts out, because even though he knows it’s coming, he can’t bear to hear it yet. He scrambles up from the sofa, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to spill as he rushes back to his room. He falls to his bed, burying his face into his pillows and lets out a trembling breath.
Tomorrow.. He can’t avoid this, knows he needs to accept it sooner rather than later, but for this tiny moment, at least until tomorrow, he’s still yours.
Changbin isn’t avoiding you. At least, not on purpose– he just hasn’t gathered the courage to leave his room yet. He feels a bit like a hypocrite; he prides himself on his communication skills, and yet in the face of an honest conversation and acceptance of rejection, he flounders. Is he pathetic? You’d have every right to think so.
Are you going to move out now? Should he? No, he should stop beating around the bush and just talk to you. You’re not in love with him, but you do love him– and that’s supposed to be enough, he told himself so many times that it is.
You can work past this, can’t you? It has to be possible. He just doesn’t want to lose you, even if it breaks his heart he can take not having you romantically, is totally fine without the sex– but losing you as a friend? He can’t bear that.
He sighs, covering his face with his hands as he lies in his bed. He slept like shit, and he’s sure you didn’t fare much better– a thought that adds to the guilt he feels. But fuck, he needs to face this. The only thing that would be worse than losing you as a friend because being friends with benefits blew up in his face would be losing you because he was a spineless coward.
Changbin grabs his phone, checks the time– it’s still early in the morning, but you’re usually awake by now. With another sigh to steel himself for what’s to come, he gets up from his bed and faces his door. He takes a breath, another attempt to calm his nerves, and walks to his door, quickly twisting the knob and pulling it open.
“Oh!” you squeak in surprise, jumping where you stand before him. Changbin jumps too, with his own little shout of surprise coming out. How long were you standing outside of his door? Were you trying to work up the nerve to talk to him too? You blink at one another for a moment, and to Changbin’s relief, you’re the first to crack, letting out a little giggle.
He giggles too, and though it’s a bit awkward given what happened late last night, it’s a relief that you’re not mad at him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Changbin explains through his giggles, and God, your smile is so cute. You cover your mouth as you try to stop giggling, eyes crinkling and sparkling as you look at him, “No, no! It’s my fault for standing outside your door like this.”
It eases him, feels more like the normal he’s used to with you– the normal he hopes and prays you can still share after this. “Can I come in?” you ask him, and of course he lets you, stepping to the side so you can enter his room. Your body language is still relaxed, but when you look at him again, your expression is serious.
Part of him worries that the lighthearted moment you just shared was a lapse in judgment on your part, and that you’re about to chew him out for running away last night– not that he wouldn’t deserve it if you did. But what you actually end up saying is a much stronger shock to his system. “Why do you think I don’t love you?”
“Wh-What? I-I.. I don’t-” Changbin stutters, blinking at you in utter shock, not even entirely sure how to respond.
“Because I do. I love you so much, Seo Changbin. The idea that you think I don’t hurts me,” you tell him, entirely sincere. That’s the part of his impromptu confession that kept you up at night, the part that upset you? Not that he loves you when he shouldn’t, or that your friendship might be ruined?
“If you think you’re not enough for me, you are– if you think you aren’t deserving of love, you are. Tell me what it is, so I can make sure you never question how much I love you again. Okay? I need you to promise me that.”
Changbin blinks, frozen, a million thoughts and emotions running through him. If he’s being honest, he doesn’t know the answer. There was such a big chunk of his life where he wasn’t happy with himself– the way he looked, the soft parts of his personality, his desires that felt so grandiose and impossible..
He thought he had to live to what other people expected him to be, that it was the only way they would love him. It took him years of effort, of stumbling and falling and getting back up to get where he is now. More confident in his body, in the way he walks through the world, in the love he pours into his family and friends.
But there’s that part of his old self that still lingers– a part that calls to him late at night, that makes him question if he’s allowed to be this happy. That reminds him it’s still there when he’s weak and unsure, that crawls up his spine whenever you smile at him, that won’t let him believe that you could love him.
Changbin isn’t the same lanky, insecure boy he was when he first met you, but maybe he is. He looks different than he did then, but maybe that part of him is still there, underneath the built up muscle and maturity. Maybe it always will be, maybe there’s no way to ever make it go away– but maybe he doesn’t need to.
He thinks of all the times you were there for him, from the very first day you met. How you always encouraged him to do what makes him happy, how you supported him through his every decision to better himself.
“I think you’re perfect the way you are, but if going to the gym would make you feel better about yourself, you should do it!” you told him when he brought up the topic of trying to bulk up and fill out his body. “You’re so adorable Binnie, seriously, how can you be so cute?” you grinned, pinching his cheeks the first time aegyo slipped out in front of you.
No matter which version of himself he showed you, you loved him. Each part, no matter how different and against expectations, you cared for. And even with all the work he put into himself, there was still the part of him that tried to change in his romantic and sexual relationships. Trying to live up to what he thought his partners wanted, trying to adapt himself to them.
But so effortlessly, you dismantled the expectations he put upon himself. All the times you called him sexy and adorable in the same breath, made him believe that he could be both at the same time– that he could be manly and intimidating, sweet and loving, sexy and cute all at once, and it was all still genuinely him, all worthy of love.
Maybe it’s impossible to shove insecurity completely aside; it’s likely that it’ll always linger. Even when it’s small, and tucked away, and very nearly forgotten, it’ll be there, waiting. And maybe that’s okay, because when you have someone who loves you as you are, who reassures you and listens to you and comforts you, it’ll start to fade back out as naturally as it came in.
“I don’t know why,” he answers honestly, his bottom lip starting to quiver. His best guess is that his fear of losing someone he loves so much expounded upon his underlying insecurities, made them flare to the point that he felt like he could drown in them.
“I just know that I love you. And I need you, and not like- not like that, I just- ..I never want to be without you,” he continues, refusing to get choked up by his emotions and let it stop him from saying what he needs to. “And I promise- I’ll tell you, anytime I’m unsure of myself, I’ll tell you.”
You step closer to him, reach up and cup his face in your hands, rub the tears that threaten to fall from the corners of his eyes with your thumbs. His heart skips a beat when you smile sweetly at him, when you lean towards him to press a soft kiss to his lips, to tell him you love him. “You said I was perfect,” you say as you kiss him again, and then again, “but so are you. You’re the loveliest person I’ve ever known.”
You press more kisses over his face, complimenting each feature as you go. His deep, dark eyes that can be so piercing or so soft depending on the situation. His full cheeks, so cute and endearing when they’re pink from a blush, but so handsome and complimentary to his face. His downturned smirk when something amuses him that can easily turn into a fully bright upturned smile when he’s happy, and makes his nose scrunch adorably.
“Honey,” he breathes in a soft whine, unsure of what to do with all the excess affection. You guide him back to his bed, crawling atop him when he falls back against it, continuing your trail of kisses down his neck. “You deserve this,” you tell him, smiling against his skin when you feel him squirm beneath you, “deserve it all, and more.”
Changbin brings one of his hands to the back of your neck when you pull back to look at him, bringing you back down to him so he can kiss you. He doesn’t want to hold back anymore, to try and hide how badly he needs you. He kisses you like a man starved, hungry and desperate. His desire is carnal, every inch of him aching for your attention.
Your hands sweep over his torso, finding the hem of his shirt and tugging at it. He gets the hint, and separates from you so you can take it off him. He watches you remove yours too, heart thumping in his chest as you reach behind you to unhook your bra. He tries to lean up to kiss you again when you’re finished, but you push him back down.
He whines at first, but quickly swallows it down when you smile at him in that pretty way that makes his stomach flare with butterflies, his cock twitching as it hardens beneath you. Your hands travel his body, compliments about each and every inch of him freely falling from your lips. His arms, thick and warm and comforting. His chest, so strong and beautifully sculpted. His stomach, soft and cute, as perfect as the rest of him.
You kiss him too– everywhere your fingers touch, your lips follow. Soft, tender, overwhelming– his heart is beating so fast and hard, all your words, touches, and kisses make his blood feel like molten lava, every inch of him unbearably hot. It chokes him up too, how sweet you’re being to him; you’ve doted on him plenty of times, but never like this.
You take one of his hands in yours next, bring it up to your lips to press achingly soft kisses to it. The palm first, and then his wrist, before you turn it over to kiss his knuckles. You kiss the tip of each of his fingers, and his breath hitches as he watches you, goosebumps erupting all over him when you gently put it down and pick up his other hand to repeat the actions.
You treat him with so much reverence, shower him with more love than he knows what to do with. He’s trembling with emotion, aching with desire, overwhelmed by how much he loves you, how beautiful you look. He’s going to cry– seriously, he doesn’t know how much more he can take before tears start spilling out of him.
“Honey, please-” Changbin whines, and to his relief, you pause to look at him. “Please, I- let me make you feel good, please? I want to, I- I want to show you how much I love you too,” he begs. You intended to take care of him, to shower him in affection until you inevitably made him cum, but you meant it when you said you can never deny him his desire to be sweet to you.
“Tell me what you want, baby,” you say, and you watch as he chews on his bottom lip, face heating up further as he considers what to say. He knows what he wants, he’s thought about it so many times– it’s just the admitting and asking for it part that makes him a little shy. Still, you treat him so well, and you always indulge him, so.. The only thing to do is just go for it.
“I want.. Want you to sit on my face. Please? Please, please sit on my face,” he begs, and God, that has to be the sexiest thing he’s ever begged for. It makes your stomach flip, and if your legs weren’t straddling him, you definitely would’ve clenched them together. Lifting yourself off him, you make quick work of the remainder of your clothes.
Changbin scoots down the bed, so your legs will have more room when you return to him, chucking his glasses away, not nearly enough care in him for where they land. He looks at you, with a devastatingly sweet and bashful smile, his arms reaching out to help you when you start to settle above him. Your knees on either side of his head, he wraps his arms around your thighs.
The latter half of his face is obscured by your body hovering over him, but looking down, you can see his eyes, sparkling with eager excitement as he keeps your gaze. You lower yourself just a little, nervous to sit your entire weight on his face and suffocate him, but Changbin doesn’t want you to hover, he wants you to sit.
So using the arms he has wrapped around you, he pulls you fully down to him. You gasp– partly because of the surprise, and partly from the feeling of his tongue meeting your pussy. He focuses on your hole first, lapping up all the slick that drips out of you before he drags his tongue up to your clit, licking in a long, fat stripe.
He wraps his lips around it, sucking and flicking it with his tongue until you're writhing above him before he alternates back to licking you up, bottom to top, drinking all you offer. You bury your fingers in his curly hair, and he moans when you tug on it. He squeezes your trembling thighs, letting out happy hums whenever you moan for him.
He sticks out his tongue and lays it flat for you when you start to roll your hips, letting you grind against his face and use him however you see fit to. You shiver when your clit bumps against his nose, your breaths becoming harsher as you drive yourself closer to release on his tongue.
“Oh bunny, you’re so good to me, so good, ‘m gonna cum for you,” you cry, voice whinier than you would’ve otherwise liked it to be, but the way Changbin whines eagerly in response tells you how much he loves it. A few more rolls of your hips, and you’re cumming, your thighs squeezing around his head as you keep a tight grip on his hair to keep yourself steady.
Changbin enthusiastically laps up your release, continuing until you're squirming and whining from the sensitivity. He loosens his hold on your thighs when you do, letting you lift your leg over his head and fall to the side of the bed a little ways away from him. Both of you are breathless, but Changbin is the first to recover, and when he does he sits up and crawls over to where you landed.
He grabs your face, gently, of course, and pulls you into a kiss. His face is slick with your essence, and you can taste yourself all over his lips and tongue. “You looked so pretty,” he tells you softly between kisses, “You’re so gorgeous when you cum for me.” He carefully spreads your legs and slots himself between them, sliding his tongue around yours as he does.
“Want to give you my cock now,” he breaths, pulling away just enough to look at you with those eager, pleading eyes that make you weak. “Want to keep making you feel good, want to- want to watch your eyes roll back when I make you cum again.”
“Sweet boy,” you coo, spreading your legs wider for him, offering yourself to him, “do it, baby. Give it to me.”
He kicks off the remainder of his clothes in record time, taking his cock in his hand and spreading the dribbling pre-cum over his length until it’s completely wet. You’re more than ready for him, but he’s as careful with you as always, pushing each inch inside slowly.
You reach out to him and pull him down to you, kissing him hard and sweet, drinking in the whimper he lets out when he’s fully inside you. His entire body is trembling, still worked up from all the attention you gave him and sensitive from fucking you just last night. There’s a part of him that still feels vulnerable too, but he’s safe with you, and he knows you always will be.
He loves you well, but you love him better; and he’ll spend every moment he has showing how much he appreciates you. He doesn’t need to prove his worth, doesn’t need to do anything apart from be himself– the love you’ve given him has shown him that. You understand him, better than anyone ever has.
You love him, you always have, long before who he is now, and will continue to long into the future. All he has to do to repay all you’ve given him is love you. Love you honestly, openly, freely– because he’s enough as he is.
When he starts to move his hips, you both moan, Changbin just the slightest bit louder than you. He tucks his arms under your shoulders and pulls you closer to him, chests touching as he steadily builds a faster pace. He’s squeezing you in his arms, whining in your ear about how good you feel around him.
He’s so high-strung and sensitive that he doesn’t think he’ll last long, but oh, is he going to try. But shit, he’s still so emotional too– he thought he would’ve recovered by now, but it keeps hitting him in waves. And when you kiss him, it makes him dizzy– not just with lust and desire, but with passion, adoration.
The way he looks down at you when he pulls away takes your breath away, so sentimental and loving. You take his face into one of your hands again, and it takes everything in him to not get choked up again. Your love is his greatest comfort, but it also makes him ache– because no one has ever loved him as sincerely as you do.
“Do you need to stop?” you ask him tenderly, once again wiping the tears from his eyes. His heart feels like it’s going to burst from all the emotion, but he quickly shakes his head, offering you a sincere smile, “N-No, no, I’m fine! I just- I really love you,” he admits, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips to show you he means it.
“And besides, I might go actually insane if I don’t fuck you, cause seriously, how are you so fucking sexy?” he follows up. “Oh, shut up,” you giggle, playfully slapping his arm. “This is supposed to be about you, you know? My sweet bunny and how perfect he is- maybe I need to remind you?”
Changbin curiously tilts his head at your words as you lock your legs around him and using what strength you have, and with the help of gravity and momentum, you force him to roll to his side, and then to his back. You smile down at him, your roles easily flipped, while he stares up at you, mystified and easily the most turned on he’s ever been.
“Oh-” is all he manages to utter, his cock throbbing furiously inside you. He could’ve easily fought it– he’s physically much stronger than you, after all. But he just loves when you force him into the positions you want, loves to be malleable and pliant for you.
You plant your hands firmly on his chest, bouncing on his cock fast, the sound of your thighs slapping together just barely louder than Changbin’s obscenely loud whimpers. “Oh God, ‘m gonna cum,” he whines desperately, too wound up and sensitive to resist it, his hands clutching at the bedsheets so hard his knuckles have turned white, “please, please, please, can I, please? Please, let me cum.”
“I love you so much, Binnie, want you to cum for me,” you tell him, bringing one of your hands to your clit so you can cum with him, the way he always loves to. It causes you to squeeze tighter, and he gasps, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth as he trembles. “Give it to me, baby, be a good boy and cum for me.”
He does just as you ask, a messy string of “I love you”s falling from his lips until he’s too far gone to keep talking, tears streaming down the sides of his face as his eyes roll to the back of his head, and then close. His noises are high-pitched and pornographic, his entire body shaking with the intensity of his cum spilling inside you.
His vision is blurry when he starts to blink open his eyes, but soon enough you come back into focus above him, looking down at him affectionately. He smiles at you, a goofy, sweet one that makes you giggle. He wraps his arms around you and drags you down to him, pressing kisses to your lips over and over again.
Changbin tells you everything he’s wanted to this entire time as he does; how beautiful you are, how much he loves you, how he can’t imagine his life without you in it. He blushes when you do the same, while once again making him promise he’ll tell you if doubt ever starts to creep up on him.
The journey to loving yourself isn’t easy; it’s a long winding road, uneven and easy to stumble on. But when he falls, you’ll be there to catch him. You’ll remind him how loved he is, the value he has simply in being, how he brightens every day you share just by existing.
You’ll always be here, growing older with him, supporting him as he continues to grow and change, each experience turning him into a newer version of himself. And in every change, in every season of his life, you’ll continue to love him. Always.
network tags: @ksmutsociety @skzstarnet
#ksmutsociety#skzstarnet#skz x reader#changbin x reader#skz smut#changbin smut#skz scenarios#skz imagines#skz fanfic#mdni + divider graphic credit: @cafekitsune
451 notes
·
View notes
Note
could i request teacher!reader with hotch? like maybe she’s jacks teacher
thank you for your request! fem!reader, 1.2k
You're a teacher: you're always tired. Overworked, underpaid, everybody knows how it goes. And maybe you've let yourself go because you don't have any real material hopes for the future beyond getting Macy Danish to read at a first grade level, but how were you supposed to know that Jack Hotchner's father would be so overwhelmingly attractive? It's not fair.
He's handsome though older than you'd been expecting, but that isn't the cut and dry of it. When he comes in, it's alone, in a well-fitted suit. He's tall and remarkably dark-eyed, shaking your hand without trying to impose any authority, as some of the fathers tend to do, and when you call him Mr. Hotchner, he says, "Aaron, please," but continues to call you Ms. L/N.
"Aaron," you say, pulling your skirt under your thighs as you sit down. You're dressed in nice clothes for the parent-teacher conferences, but you could've covered your sleeplessness better. "Jack is the nicest boy in class. He's actually my loveliest kid. Um…" You search through your notes for the preliminary assessment of Jack. "Sorry, two seconds."
"Take your time. I know what it's like to dig through a mountain of paperwork every day."
"Jack mentioned you work in the government, he calls you a special agent," you say, smiling. "You get the bad guys."
"I am a special agent. Supervisory." Aaron is conscientious enough to pretend he doesn't notice your surprise. "I'm chief of the behavioural analysis unit."
You can't even begin to guess what that entails. "Oh," you say breathlessly.
"I understand that it sounds fantastical."
"It sounds impressive," you say, floundering to correct yourself. Behavioural analysis? It must be obvious to him how nervous he's making you, then, and when you realise that, you get worse. "I'm so sorry about this. I should be more organised. I usually am."
"That's alright. Take your time."
Does he always speak that way? His voice is like fucking silk? Is he messing with you?
You yank the notes you made for Jack from the pile and flatten them across the desk. "Okay, sorry. Like I was saying, Jack is really the nicest kid, him and his friend Molly. They're both lovely, and teachers shouldn't have favourites, please don't tell the other parents, but they're my favourites." You smile at him quickly and return your eyes to the paper. The words swim in front of your eyes. "Jack can read better than you could ever hope for a first grader, he's immensely intelligent for his age group. He's patient. He'll explain anything to anyone if they ask him too, and he does it well."
"I'm glad to hear that," he says, again so softly.
You pick up one of your skinny biros to have something to fidget with. He's a very good looking man, but you're a good teacher. You can focus on what to say. Some parents need good things only. Some need reassurement that they're doing a good job. Aaron is harder to read, but you know what he needs, too.
"He can be lonely," you say, looking him in the eye. "I don't think that that's down to any fault. I'm sure you know better than I do why he might feel that way." You know about his mom's passing over a year ago. You've seen grief in children too many times. "He… I understand if this isn't okay with you, but he eats lunch with me sometimes. I encourage him to sit with his peers, of course, but I think he runs out of energy pretty quickly."
Aaron nods thoughtfully. His brows quirk into a furrow that you're afraid is directed at you.
"I don't think he necessarily has trouble connecting with his friends."
"What do you think?"
"I think something awful happened to your family, and Jack will feel it for the rest of his life, but that it won't stop him from being great. It already isn't. And… he clearly has a father who loves him and who he admires. You're his second favourite topic."
"What's his first?" he asks.
"He's really into Fruity Fridays," you say with a laugh. "I bring in fruits you don't get often in America. Someone would've had to sign a form."
"No, I remember signing it. He likes that?" His smile is golden. "I can't get him to try new things."
"He had all the leftover gold kiwi last week." You rub your lips together. Time is ticking. You have nearly thirty parents to see tonight, but talking to Mr. Hotchner has been so normal. He's a regular person in a sea of inattentive helicopter narcissists. It's a relief and a half to meet him and know a kid as gentle as Jack is in good hands. "Mr. Hotchner, I have to tell you, I'm really relieved to meet you."
"Aaron," he corrects.
Your tone drops too low. "Aaron."
"I'm more than relieved," he says. "I knew that this year would be harder for him. I didn't know… I'm grateful to you, for being so kind with him."
You look down at your notes, flushed from head to toe despite your airy skirt. Crossing your legs, you shake your head. "It's my job."
"To let him take up the only break you get all day?" he asks.
"It's not like that. Jack doesn't bother me." You fold your notes in half. "I can see his role model measures up."
"I could say the same thing."
The next time you see Jack, bright and early Monday mooring shepherded by his aunt Jessica, he's very happy to see you. You offer him a hug and pat his back when he wraps his arms around your hips. "Hello, Jack. Was your dad pleased with your drawings?"
Jack smiles at you. "I have a note for you."
"You do? Can I see? Where is it, honey?"
Jack takes off his backpack and pulls out the note and a tupperware container. "Oh, wow, did you make treats for the class? Jack, that's so nice!"
"No. Dad said those are for you. He said you should have nice for nice, or something," Jack informs you.
"You'll share with me, though? I can't eat them all by myself," you whisper.
He nods with enthusiasm and runs off to put his backpack in his cubby and his coat on the hook. You look down at the cookies and note, which is actually an envelope.
You open it with your thumbnail. The writing is Aaron's usual tight cursive.
Dear Miss L/N,
I hoped to thank you again in person, but work makes that hard. I appreciate everything you do for Jack. There are teachers who work, and there are teachers who go above and beyond. I can feel confident anywhere in the country knowing Jack is being taught by the latter.
Gratefully yours,
Aaron Hotchner.
P.S. Please don't feed Jack too many cookies. They're not for him.
You keep the letter even if it's lame to do so. When is the next parent teacher conference, anyways?
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner drabble#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fic#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fanfiction#criminal minds#hotch x reader#hotch#hotch x you#hotch blurb#hotch drabble
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Wanna Bet?
Satosugu x female reader
Minors DNI
Tags/Warnings: smut, threesome sort of, slight breast play, alcohol mention (they're sober tho), princess as a nickname because it's my weakness lol
Word count: 800 ish
A/N: Idek what this is, it was just a scene in my head that's been sitting in my drafts so *throws it at you and runs*
You stare down at the panting mess of your friend Satoru under you. He's sprawled out on the bed, white hair blending in with the pillowcase. His hands are gripping your thighs and his fingertips lightly dig into the soft flesh as you grind back and forth on him, the outer lips of your pussy sliding up and down the length of his hard dick. You've been doing this for a couple of minutes now, never working up the courage to actually put it in. It's clearly getting to Satoru, who looks like he'd be about ready to start begging if his pride would let him, which it won't. But now he's chewing on his lower lip almost hard enough to break the skin, and his icy blue eyes keep rolling back as he gently grinds up against you. The stimulation feels good, but never quite enough.
"I don't know what you're so afraid of, it's not like you're a virgin." You hear the deep voice of Suguru from behind you and feel his large hands ghost over the curve of your waist.
"I-I know...but look at him, he's huge," you stammer, looking to where the fat head of Satoru's cock is peeking out from between your pussy lips.
"He's no bigger than me," Suguru replies smugly, his hands still trailing up your waist until he cups your breasts, and although you can't see his face, you can hear the grin in his voice. "Don't tell me you're too much of a baby to sit on a dick?"
"If you keep talking shit, I'm not gonna let you fuck me after him," you hiss, your hips still slowly moving back and forth on Satoru's length, the friction against your clit causing you to stifle a moan as you try to sound firm.
"You're the one who got drunk the other night and admitted you've always wanted to know what both of our dicks felt like." As he speaks, the pads of Suguru's thumbs tease your nipples until they stiffen under his touch.
God, that was embarrassing of you. But really, who could blame you when you had two of the most attractive men you'd ever seen as your closest friends? It's honestly a miracle it took so many years for you to let your attraction to them slip.
"Well, you guys are the ones who said you wanted to actually let me do it!"
"We did. So why don't you go ahead and actually put it in?" Satoru finally speaks, bucking his hips impatiently. He's trying to keep his cool, but a hint of desperation is creeping into his usually cocky voice.
"He's right, haven't you tortured poor Toru enough? Come on, lift your hips a little. I'll help you since you apparently need it..."
You do as Suguru says, lifting your hips up, and you watch as his hand curls around the base of Satoru's dick so casually you're a little thrown off by it. The lack of any and all hesitation has you silently wondering if he'd done it before, but you don't have much time to think about it before Suguru is lining up the head of Satoru's cock with your entrance, gently moving it back and forth against your slit to get it wet enough to go in with ease.
"Go on then, princess. Or do you need me to hold your hand, too?" Suguru's making fun of you, but he actually does interlace the fingers of his free hand with yours, and his lips brush against your own affectionately.
You groan into Suguru's mouth the moment you finally sink down onto Satoru's cock, and you can feel his lips turn up in a smirk at the sound you make. You take in a sharp breath at the stinging feeling the stretch causes once you feel him bottom out. For a moment, you're silently cursing yourself for ever admitting you wanted to try this, but then your walls begin to adjust to his size and the pain begins to melt away until all that's left is the feeling of being deliciously and utterly full in a way you've never felt before.
"Fuck," Satoru curses, "she's so fuckin' tight."
"Yeahhh?" Suguru drawls, his voice somehow sounding even lower than usual. "You look like you're trying not to blow your load already," he chuckles. Well, at least you're not the only one he's poking fun at.
"I'll last longer than you," Satoru insists, although his teeth are gritted slightly as though he's already struggling with his self-control.
"You wanna bet? We got all night after all, don't we, princess?" You feel Suguru's hot breath just below your ear before he playfully nips at the sensitive skin there, and you brace yourself for what is about to be a very long night.
#satosugu x reader#satosugu x you#gojo satoru x reader#geto suguru x reader#gojo smut#geto smut#geto suguru smut#gojo satoru smut#gojo x you#jjk x reader#gojo x reader#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#suguru geto x reader#suguru smut#satoru gojo x reader#satoru x reader#satoru gojo smut#satoru smut#geto x reader#geto x you#geto x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x you#jjk fanfic#jjk fic#gojo fanfic#suguru geto smut#gojo imagine#geto imagines
2K notes
·
View notes