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qardenofeden · 3 months ago

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what’s left of you, wherein you confront the life nanami kento has left behind for you to navigate through.

a/n : i was going to post this in parts but i didn’t want to compromise anything so here you guys go!!! one of the scenes was posted a bit earlier as a sneak peek so you might recognize that!

word count : 1.6k

prompt : finally getting everything you ever wanted only for it to be taken right from your grasp. angst with a happy ending.

disclaimer : english is not my first nor second language so please be patient! if you spot errors or typos, feel free to comment :) thank you!

the summer breeze passes you by as you stand, your hair dancing with the wind you overlook your alma mater’s campus behind you. nostalgia washes over you, memories of your youth that you so desperately tried to bury coming back.

approximately a decade ago, you stood in this exact spot with nanami kento, who, at the time, served as the light in your life.

you experienced all the horrors the world had to offer, but kento never once faltered. despite facing all those said horrors head-on, he remained kind-hearted, carrying out his tasks with a smile.

and you don’t know when you first started loving him, but it must be around your third year of junior high school when your love for nanami kento truly blossomed, manifesting in ways that, in retrospect, were not so subtle.

but kento was taught to be a gentleman through and through, and so his modesty translated into a sense of denseness.

everyone knew it except for him. your upperclassmen especially, noticed your favoritism and even made teasing remarks about it, but with nanami, it all went through one ear and out the other. he brushed it all off, claiming that your special treatment came from a place of familiarity, because you’d known each other for far longer.

and so began your little game of cat and mouse.

“kento, i got you your favorite bread!” your classes hadn’t even started yet, and you were already greeting him with a smile and an outstretched arm, offering him a sandwich from his favorite bakery.

“HAH?! it’s 8:12 in the mornin’! you mean to tell me you deliberately went outta your way to pick up a sandwich for nanami and nothin’ for anyone else?!” gojo interrupted, approaching you and swinging an arm around your shoulder as shoko and geto, your other upperclassmen, trail behind him.

the latter chuckles in amusement, eyes forming two thin lines as he smiles, “ah, young love.”

“that’s how my grandparents started off, too.” shoko joins in on the teasing, making you roll your eyes at their antics.

thankfully, nanami saves you from humiliation when he speaks up, sighing as he shakes his head. “don’t mind them. thank you, i really appreciate this.”

kento takes the sandwich and unwraps it, then splits it in half before handing the bigger slice to you, making the others gasp and woo. gojo pushes you towards kento with the arm he had previously wrapped around you, making you falter as you fall in the blonde’s arms. their teasing shrieks only get louder, with geto muttering a little “i was unfamiliar with your game.”

kento lets go of you once you find your footing, and he scolds the white haired man, furrowing his brows as he does so.

he looks back again at you, face softening as he offers you a small smile. his brown eyes find yours as he apologizes, extending his arms for the second time as he gives you your half of the sandwich.

suddenly feeling bashful under his gaze and the added presence of the others, you look down as you clear your throat, having no choice but to take the food, fearing that their teasing would only worsen if you refused.

times were much simpler then. you can’t help but wonder how different things could have turned out had you all been born as non sorcerers, away from the responsibilities forced upon you, the responsibilities you inherited, and the weight placed upon your shoulders since your birth.

but then you remember how everything, even the bad aspects of your upbringing, only made you and kento closer, and suddenly you don’t mind so much. because for kento, you’d take all the pain if it meant being able to keep his love.

like that time when you and kento were walking home after a duo mission when the sky suddenly started pouring. without an umbrella or even a jacket to keep either of you dry, you head to the nearest convenience store together and shake off the droplets of rain caught within your clothes.

taking a seat, you watch the world through the glass walls of the store. kento follows your gaze, before he fishes a handkerchief out his pocket. it’s surprisingly dry when he offers it to you without a word.

looking up at him in confusion, you take it from his hands. you’re about to speak when he beats you to it, muttering a quick and simple, “i’ll get us some ramen,” before he disappears into one of the aisles.

you’re left in confusion, feeling stunned before you clear your throat and pull yourself together. that’s just how kento is, you think, shrugging it off as you pat yourself dry.

minutes later, he returns with two cups of noodles and gently places your favorite flavor in front of you, then a wooden pair of chopsticks on top. taking a seat next to yours, he begins eating as you two watch the rain.

silence fills the room, save for the sounds of slurping and the harsh drops of rain outside. the tranquility provides a sense of comfort to the both of you, wrapping you up like a blanket after the harsh mission you’d just returned from.

the atmosphere is light and peaceful, much like how kento’s always made you feel. offering his seats, holding your bags when you feel tired, and even keeping an eye on you during missions. you don’t know how he does it. be perfect, you mean, because there is not a single flawed bone in nanami’s body.

it’s evident, especially in that one memory you hold so dearly in your heart.

after being separated for years after high school, you all went to your respective colleges. you thought it’d be the end of your little high school crush story, but little did you know what the future held in store for you.

years after, you and kento are in a french café, a pain au chocolat and a croissant resting on your respective plates. he had come across one of your social media accounts on accident, stumbling upon it when he was looking for… honestly, he doesn’t know what he was looking for. all he remembers is seeing your name and picture, and, as if a moth to a flame, clicking the message option to shoot you a text.

“that day is engraved into my brain,” light breaths of air escape his lips as he talks about the 7/11 ramen run, and you wonder how he can make even the slightest noises like that sound perfect, “i think about it a lot. you know, that was probably the first time i’d ever seen you in that sense.”

“you still think about that?”

…

“you don’t?”

———

kento nanami was a man of unwavering patience and little indulgence. every decision, no matter how small, was carefully well thought out, so you were surprised when he proposed to you after only 3 years and 7 months.

as waves of sunlight illuminated your face, kento sat up in bed with a pen and a newspaper, his bare back against the headboard as he pushed up his glasses. he clears his throat when he feels you shuffle awake, one of his hands snaking its way into your hair.

“good morning, sweetheart.” his voice is husky, clearly just having come from slumber.

you groan against him, nuzzling into the sides of his torso, your cheeks resting against his abs, “good morning, handsome.”

“you flatter me, my love.” he chuckles against you, and if it were up to nanami, he’d stay in this moment forever, the snug fit of your body against his aiding the sun in warming him up. he snaps the newspaper straight, catching your attention.

“what’s that?” you ask, closing your eyes and pressing yourself further, as if magnetized.

“today’s word search. would you like to help me?”

you groan, sighing as you pull yourself together and force your eyelids open. you rub your eyes and yawn, mirroring his posture as you sit up and rest your head against his shoulder.

that’s when you see it.

the encircled words: me, my, marry, will, love.

“my love, will you marry me?”

and as the sweet answer of “yes” escapes your lips, nanami sees it clearly now. how he’s always been yours. even if he didn’t know it. even if you didn’t know it.

but now you both do. and he realizes, that day when he found your account.

he’s always been looking for you.

———

your wedding ring fits snugly on your finger as you fidget, rolling it around.

it’s been a year since kento’s departure. a year since shibuya. a year since your life turned upside down and you’d lost all you ever had.

you remember a time when you thought you held the world in your hands. because with kento, he never made you feel any less, always at your disposal.

so now you keep his last name, and although you and kento never really had kids, you find yourself with three of his.

nobara, yuuji, and megumi all pool around you as you visit his grave. they’re laughing, conversing happily as they tell him stories of how good you’ve been to them.

“yuuji keeps eating away all of the food mrs. nanami makes!”

“nanamin, that’s not true! shut up nobara, i have to eat a lot because i work out!”

“both of you, shut up. this is so embarassing…”

despite not being able to physically share these memories with your husband, you’re not worried. you know he’s looking down on you, maybe even guiding you like the angel he is. knowing him, he’d probably argue with even the highest of beings if it meant being able to watch over you once more.

and maybe you lost all you ever had, but now you’ve gained a whole new world.

because no amount of sorrow or grief or heartache could compare to even a fraction to the miracle that is kento’s love. because regardless of the short time you’ve shared together, nanami’s love was enough to last you a lifetime.

a/n : thank you for making it this far! i hope you enjoyed it. likes & reblogs are appreciated but i rly rly rly love when you guys comment! :,) makes me feel like i’m not talking to a brick wall :p

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thesilmarillionblog · 1 year ago

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COME CLOSER

Summary: Reader asks her friend, Soldier Boy to take her virginity.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: +18! (MINORS DNI), virgin reader!, smut, language, rough Soldier Boy, beard kink, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, friends with benefits

Word Count: 4052

A/N: English is not my first language.

You grabbed the gun from Ben's suit and placed it in your bag without even waiting for a response since you knew he wouldn't refuse you. “May I take this?” you said. “Just for safety issues.”

Ben joined the team to kill Homelander months ago, and because you two have been on missions together for so long, you two have kind of gotten to know one another. He frequently teased you, and most of the time he really got on your nerves. Another thing Butcher's wanted from you regarding Ben was to make sure you kept an eye on him while he was high or furious.

He sighed, “You are already in safe hands,” and then gave you a little push toward the car, where Butcher and the other members of the team were waiting. “You know that you are something different. Trying to protect yourself with a firearm in spite of the fact that you already have three supes with you, me included, who are the strongest and greatest.”

“After the job is completed, even the biggest dicks become smaller. I wonder if your gigantic ego will ever be smaller one day, Ben.”

“Not mine,” he winked at you in between his laughter before the two of you entered the car. “How on earth does a naive virgin speak like that? I must discipline your dirty mouth at some point.”

He pushed until you reached the other side of the seat, and you muttered, “Shut up.” Your face flushed. “You leave no space for me.”

“Do I look like your personal driver?” Butcher growled at Hughie to come in too, questioned in a disapproving tone. Then Butcher turned back to Hughie, who was sitting in the passenger seat, and said, “Where the fuck is your girlfriend?”

“She arrived earlier with the others. They were driven there by Frenchie already.”

“Will you shut up and drive?” Ben messed with your hair for a while while ignoring what you said that he was going to ruin it, saying to Butcher in an irritated manner.

“Good boy gone bad, huh?” Ben ignored you and filled the entire seat between your complaints. Butcher murmured, “Let's fucking have some fun there since we may not be finding any free time soon, Navy girlies.”

Luckily, Butcher managed to locate a club devoid of supes, but it was still massive and insane, complete with loud music. Hughie's gaze found Annie right away, and Butcher followed after him while he winked at the girl who was staring at him with a chuckle.

You gave Ben a drink and complained, “Do I have to babysit you?” Even though all of the girls were capturing his attention, he was undoubtedly hearing what you were saying.

He patted your head and said, "Babysit me?" with a look of astonishment. "Sweetheart, it's me who has been watching you for several months. After all, it's easy for you to get into trouble."

"Me?" As he messed with your hair, you giggled and attempted to push his hands away. "You're always on the verge of being furious for no reason at all, and I have to keep your ego boosted when you are about to lose it."

"Or maybe I act it this way to get you even more anxious; what do you think? Your human face looks so funny when you're trying to calm me," he smirked and remarked with arrogance.

Punching him in the chest, you said, "You're impossible," although your wrist ached. You sighed in agony, "Fuck, Ben," and made sure everything was okay by looking at your hand. Thankfully, there were no physical wounds.

"Why the fuck have you tried to punch me now? Haven't you still learned I'm built to last?" he complained, gently massaging your hands.

You muttered, "You're so annoying," while he sighed and released your hands. "I can't imagine why almost nobody likes you."

"All you do this evening is talk rudely with that lovely mouth of yours and spit poison. Also, you are to blame. How many times do I have to tell you not to try to punch me? Wish to adopt a tough-ass persona? You're just a little sensitive, soft doll," he continued to tease, causing you to flush with rage.

"Remember the day I gave myself a Temp-V injection? When I really punched you, you seemed rather surprised, and I'm sure it hurt."

“I didn't think being a temporary Supe could happen, and that was a while ago.” Ben continued to smirk and replied, “Keep that in mind. I was merely trying to comprehend the change in your scent when you unexpectedly struck me and pushed me against the wall. You know, I should have been doing that. Of course, I'm not referring to the punching; rather, I'm speaking to the second one, but more gently.”

Ben flirted with you, giving you a tiny pinch on the chin and a wink. He was perhaps the most flirtatious man ever, but the reason he acted this way was that you told him you were a virgin, and even when he understood you were becoming too shy and a little anxious, he continued to tease you verbally. You didn't feel uncomfortable about it, though.

“Whatever.” You rushed to end it, fearing he would start talking even more profanely. You tried to silence him by putting your palm over his mouth. “When are you going to shave this beard? It's really lengthy.”

He murmured, “I thought you liked it longer and thicker,” as he combed his facial hair.

This time, instead of being annoyed, you giggled. “You're impossible.”

You said, “I'm going to check on Annie and others,” feeling a little guilty for something you didn't even understand when you saw him searching for women who fit his tastes. “So that you can have your fun.”

Ben, who had just bought a drink for himself, approached a redhead who had been staring at him passionately ever since he entered the bar. You led the way to join Annie and the rest of the team, but you were carrying a heavy weight that you couldn't quite explain. You did your best to ignore the stupid ache in your heart and laugh out loud at Butcher's half-made-up stories. It was a rare, heartfelt moment of calm after months, shared by all of you as you briefly watched the redhead woman take Ben's head and lead him to the second floor.

Ben's social batteries ran out after a few hours, and when he got into a fight with Butcher, you volunteered to take him home in your car because you were starting to have headaches too. Annie and Kimiko were dancing in the center; it appeared like they were just getting started. Either their heightened enthusiasm was to blame, or you simply didn't feel like having fun at that particular time. Ben was the source of your annoyance because he preferred to spend his time in the club having fun with other women and left you kind of alone.

You just said, “I will drive Ben back; just stop arguing for once,” and snatched Butcher's keys. “I assume everyone will be arriving home late. It appears that Kimiko and Annie won't be calling it a night anytime soon.” After observing them for some time, they realized you were right. Kimiko was high as fuck.

Ben didn't have a shower in his own room, so he quickly took one in yours once you drove home. Surprisingly, he hasn't complained to Butcher about it in any manner, and you've allowed him to use yours anytime he needs to, even if he occasionally takes a shower a bit too frequently, leading you to believe that he does it on purpose to irritate and enrage you so that you two can argue. But no matter what, his unique word choice never failed to make you chuckle.

As he was taking care of himself in the bathroom, you considered something you had long since ignored: your virginity. You could never go one step beyond, not even if you were in your mid-20s. You just didn't want it to be just one fleeting, pointless act, and you didn't feel anything at all. Perhaps you were a shamefully traditional person who was eagerly awaiting the realization of your real fate.

Ben used to make jokes about your virginity, which you didn't mind, but tonight it kind of got under your skin and made you feel uneasy, like there was something wrong with you. It just didn't seem right at all to be a virgin in your mid-twenties.

“You appear to be lost in thoughts. What's consuming your mind so much?” Ben queried.

His long beard and damp hair were pouring over the floor as he emerged from the bathroom, his thick, muscular belly wrapped in a towel. Your eyebrows are raised between your sighs. Though you always knew he was extremely attractive, he seemed even more so at this moment.

Ben glanced at your short dress too, seeing that you were staring at him as your lips parted slightly in a hint of yearning. He smirked, conceited, seeing your legs pushed together.

“I think I can make a guess.” He walked over to sit on the bed next to you and mumbled.

You hesitantly said, “I was thinking something,” not quite sure what to say exactly.

“About?”

You abruptly asked, trying not to flush too much as you moved the bed and fully turned your body to face him. “Would you take my virginity?”

Ben exclaimed, “What?” with his lips parted in wonder as he tried to understand what you meant and raised an eyebrow.

“You already heard me.”

Ben laughed and ignored your request, saying, “Are you drunk or do you need to jerk off? You're going to be a good nun when you grow up.”

“I'm serious here,” you said, blushing red from embarrassment and rage at the fact that the fact that he didn't take you seriously at all.

Ben's mocking expression changed to one of confusion as he realized you were serious. “I thought you were waiting for the love of your life or something. Why did you change your mind all of a sudden?”

“I wasn't waiting for someone,” you denied right away. “I decided being like this bothers me, and I want to change it.”

You continued, “We have known each other for months, and I think we kind of formed a good friendship during this time,” before he said anything, you added, “It must be okay to ask your friend for help, and it's better than to be with a total stranger, right?”

“I'm not the right person to share something like that.” Ben said in a serious tone, “I don't know why you made this decision so quickly, but you'll regret it tomorrow, I promise. If you are horny, I can give fingerfuck you, though.” It was clear that he was not hearing you clearly.

“It's not really that significant, is it? I didn't wait for someone right away, as I had said. If I knew I would regret saying it, I wouldn't have said it in the first place. What's the purpose of friends?”

Hesitantly, you reached out to touch his damp arms to gauge his reaction while also conveying your concern. You felt your small confidence begin to fade as you noticed he was staring at you with the same expression, so you brought your hands back to yourself. “Well, of course I won't try to convince you to take my virginity if you don't want to get into such an intimate interaction with me,” you said, trying not to seem offended or disappointed. “It's a different issue.”

Your heart raced under your thin dress as you anxiously awaited his response.

“I would fuck you with pleasure; it's not that I don't want it,” he added, examining your bare legs and breasts as they rose and fell in time with your heavy breaths. He whispered, placing his rough palms on your chin. “But I can't promise it won't hurt, and I don't want it to be just a one-time thing.”

You muttered, “I know it's going to hurt,” and at last he relaxed and seemed to agree.

He smirked and continued, “I'll fuck your cunt whenever I want,” staring right into your eyes and making you tremble at the sensation. “You'll spread your legs for me and beg me to fuck you.”

“It's better,” you said as his hand lowered to your throat, causing you to become even more thrilled. You chuckled awkwardly and murmured, “Practice makes perfect, right?”

Your lips parted in ecstasy as his thumb massaged your hardened nipple, and he gently pinched it between his fingers through your dress. He didn't even slightly break eye contact with you, as if he wanted to watch every move you made.

Ben mumbled, “I wonder if you're dripping under there already,” as he climbed on top of you. Feeling uncertain about what action to take, you placed your quivering hands on his large chest.

His palm stroked your pussy through your underpants, and you clenched around nothing, murmuring, “I feel like it.” You were already embarrassingly drenched; you knew that.

“Ben,” you murmured quickly, and his hand instantly froze there. He stared at you, confused, not knowing if you wanted to stop or not. You grabbed his wrist and stopped him just as he was about to return his hand to himself. “Can you do the entire job for tonight” you said in a hesitant manner. “I have absolutely no idea what to do.”

Ben surprised you with a kiss on the forehead and said, “Of course I'll do the entire job. You just lay down and relax. I'm going to take care of you well, okay?”

You nodded quickly, trusting that Ben knew what to do when he started to rub your pussy through your underwear again. Your hips rose higher to meet his movements as he played with your clit with a gentle thumb. “Let's get rid of your dress, huh?” he said, helping you to remove it from your body. You were lying under him naked, except for your underwear.

You wanted to hide your body with your hands because you felt a little shy, but you forced yourself to look at him with courage because you wanted this to be good. Even if he was already erect under the towel, he ignored his own needs to give you the pleasure you needed first.

Then he pinched your nipples once more and added, “You have such lovely tits.” Before you could respond, he put his warm lips on one of your tits and started sucking, giving you very light bites. You were a little scared that he could harm you because you had a big power imbalance since he was a supe, but you chose to put your trust in him because you knew he had experience having intercourse with normal people just like you.

As he continued licking both of your nipples, you placed your hands behind his hair and pulled. You pushed his head to your tit as you raised your hip to match his movement, but you moaned loudly when he ripped off your panties and inserted one of his meaty fingers inside of you slowly, even though you were trying really hard not to scream. It was difficult to take even one finger, so tears welled up in your eyes, but you didn't want to ruin the moment.

Groaning, “Fuck, you are tighter than I expected,” he lifted his head.

When he noticed your pained expression, he began to gently massage your clit with his thumb once again. Thankfully, this helped you feel better, and after a while, you began to slowly tighten around his finger.

He asked in a rough voice, “Do you like me fingering you?” and continued to push his finger in and out. “Your pussy is so adorable and swollen. You so desperately need me to fuck you raw.”

He commanded, “Tell me it's just for me,” tensing up his motions as you continued to tighten around his finger.

You said, “Just for you,” and he attempted to press another finger, but you were simply too tense to take it. You said, “Ben, be slow,” in a panic.

“In order for you to take me easier, we need to properly prepare your little pussy. Now spread your legs and don't cover that adorable cunt,” he gave another command. It was then that you realized you were attempting to press your legs together.

You spread your legs so he could see you as per the directions he gave. You let out a loud cry of pleasure and agony as he carefully inserted another finger. Ben swallowed your groans and stretched you with two fingers, his warm lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss.

You were moaning inside his mouth while his tongue and fingers dominated you. Ben felt your wetness on his fingers, your hips rising to match his rhythm, and he felt like he might come without even touching himself.

With a harsh voice, he commanded, “Cum on my fingers,” and proceeded to fuck you while your walls tensed up. With a loud moan and his name between your lips, you nailed his biceps while he watched you orgasm under his touch. “Good girl. You are so easy to make cum. Fuck, you're a needy one.”

You continued orgasming and wetting them while Ben held your fingers within. Even though your pussy felt extremely sensitive, he continued to finger you without giving you a minute's break after your climax had passed.

“Ben, it feels sensitive.”

“Fucking take it,” he growled. “You'll come as much as I want you to.”

You muttered, “I don't think I can,” as your legs continued to shake uncontrollably.

“You can and you will,” Ben responded, and he proceeded to fuck you even more forcefully than before.

The bedroom was filled with obscene noises, and your eyes welled up with tears of pleasure.

“Cum to me,” he commanded again, and you instantly clenched around his fingers. Putting your hands over his head, you kissed him, pressing your lips to his in an attempt to stop your moans.

As you orgasmed, you sensed him grinning slightly against your lips throughout the kiss. He whispered, “You're so fucking tight, you're almost going to lock me inside your pussy,” as you calmed down after your climax subsided. “I guess you're ready now.”

Your eyes widened with fear and dread as he removed the towel from his belly and threw it to the ground, revealing his firm cock. Ben began to give himself brief strokes while spreading your legs apart. Aware of your discomfort, he smiled slightly at you. “I'll do my best to be gentle. You're enough soaked already.”

You nodded to him, waiting tensely as you watched him pump himself between his rough hands. You tensed up abruptly as the tip of his cock touched your entrance, and he took himself in hand after giving it enough strokes.

He said, “Relax,” and kept pushing the tip inside. “Fuck, take it already.”

You attempted to let him in, your legs trembling with desire and dread, but you couldn't stop clenching.

You whimpered, your eyes welling with tears, as he thrust his cock inside with a forceful move. You also pulled his hair around his neck. Your hips were being held in place by his hands, preventing you from moving them. You were certain that it would bruise badly.

You cried out in fear, “Ben,” as he persisted in pushing. Tears fell from the corner of your eyes onto the covers when you were nailing his arms.

He groaned, “Calm down,” and gave you some time to relax. “It's just the head.”

“Sorry,” you said, ashamed that you weren't able to bear pain and adding unnecessary difficulty to the procedure.

His eyes widened at the sight of your face, and he planted a gentle kiss on your forehead. He whispered, “Hey, it's okay. You take me so good, so warm,” in between kisses and proceeded to place his cock inside of you once more. You knew it was a major step for you when you felt like he broke your hymen. This time, his hands gently remained on your hips as he sensed a change in your feelings.

Thank goodness, you relaxed between his kisses and compliments, and your wetness allowed him to enter at last. Ben gave you time to get used to his size after his cock completely filled your insides.

After planting another hard kiss on your lips, he asked, “Are you okay now?” and stroked your cheeks.

You responded, “I'm okay,” as the agony lessened and you began to get pleasure from his cock pulsing inside of you.

Ben put his hands on the sheets, and as he started to move slowly inside of you, you locked your legs around his hip.

He groaned, “You're so tight around me,” as he began to move faster. “I should have fucked you sooner.”

He gave you quick kisses, and his bushy beard tickled your chin as he began to fuck you quickly and roughly. “I'll turn this little cunt addicted to my cock.”

As you continued to moan beneath him, he gave another order: “Tell me you want me to fuck you hard.”

You murmured, “Please,” and he slowed down.

Ben wrapped his hand around your neck and said, “Beg me properly,” but he wasn't using force against you.

You sighed, “Fuck me hard, please, Ben.” You moaned as you saw his mucsles stretching as he continued to penetrate you quickly and roughly. Your hands nailed his chest and broad abdomen.

He put your legs on his shoulders and stated, “I'm going to fuck you every day; make you my little cumslut. Do you enjoy having your friend fuck you? Does this turn you on?”

When he kept talking filth, you couldn’t stop clenching around his cock.

He moaned, “Fuck,” in between hard strokes. “Look at this pussy clench. You really get turned on by it.”

Ben intensified his movements as your legs trembled with pleasure around his hips, and you felt your climax strike with a loud moan and a cunning sneer on his face. You tried biting your lip to muffle the moans, but it was difficult as Ben fucked you raw, on top of you, dominating your whole body.

He whispered, “I'm going to fuck your face another time,” and put his thumb inside your mouth. “Suck it. Prove to me how much you crave my cock inside your mouth.”

You groaned in displeasure as he slowed. Ben strictly said, “Suck it, show me how badly you want my cock inside your mouth, and I'll fuck you as you need,” when you lifted your hips to get him to return to his previous rhythm.

With the expectation that he would like it, you put your lips around his thumb and started to lick it with your tongue.

He mumbled, “Fuck yes, gonna cum inside that mouth,” and started fucking you quickly and roughly once more.

He muttered, “Almost there,” and continued to fuck you while staring at your bouncing tits.

His hardness continued to throb inside of you as you tightened around him one more time and orgasmed. He moaned and spilled inside of you, filling you with his thick and warm ropes.

Ben continued to fill your pussy as your climax subsided. You felt incredibly satisfied because you felt so full of his seed.

When he was finished, he carefully pulled out his cock, exposing the blood at the tip. Ben gave you a long, hard kiss on the lips when he noticed you were staring at it.

You offered him a tiny smile as he whispered, “Come closer,” and he embraced you with his large arms. “Are you alright?”

You continued to stroke his beard while responding, “Yes.” Actually, you've never felt better.

You can check my MASTERLIST for more.

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morgue-friends · 6 months ago

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"A Maiden's Token" | Count Orlok x Female! Reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, dub-con, count orlok is his own warning, blood kink, penis in vagina sex, sexual tension, creampie, oral (f receiving), death is mentioned, no aftercare, reader probably has stock-holm syndrome.

Fourteen days, that's how long you've been here. That's how long you've been left on your own every daybreak and then expected to entertain death itself every evening. As the sunset on the snowy horizon, you made your way back into the castle, dragging your tattered dress by what remained left of it through the snow. Upon entry, you were shocked to see that the fireplace was still lit. Occasionally, it would flicker out during sunset as if the castle consciously knew a force of darkness would be awakening.

With a sigh, you lifted your dress and dropped down by the fireplace suddenly out of breath. Maybe it was the consistent blood loss or the freezing temperatures of the European mountains that you were succumbing to. As far as you knew, he hadn't given you any reason to believe that you'd have an extended stay at the castle. At the end of the day, your chances of reaching the next morning relied solely on the temperament of a man. Your mother had taught you well enough about men to know that when they get bored, they tend to move on.

You felt the presence of tears threatening to depart from your eyes as you thought of your poor mother. She must be so worried and heartbroken. Ever since the two of you arrived in Europe after leaving America, her overprotectiveness of you has grown enormously. When you told her of a Count from a neighboring country requesting your services for painting a self-portrait of him within his own castle, she warned you against going and you decided to shelve away her concerns as mere fairytales. You gripped the silver locket necklace hanging around your neck for security and sighed. Your mother had gifted you this locket on your most recent birthday, and holding it helped you think of all your fondest memories with her.

Now, here you sit, sleep deprived and undernourished. He left you only bread, some grapes, wine, and a bucket of water. You were thankful for the water as you refused to be inebriated in your current situation. It was almost shocking to see he had the decency to have the water refilled each day, but you knew it was only because he'd hate to let his food source run dry.

Suddenly, you were startled when you heard the pouring of wine into a goblet behind you. You hadn't even heard him ascend up the stairs of the castle, and yet there he was in his full glory at the head of the dining table. Now, whether he did ascend the stairs and walk right past you or he simply just appeared at the table was something only god himself would know.

"You have been crying." The Count's thick accent hung heavy in the air, his voice sending a rippling wave of goosebumps over your skin. The tone of his voice was accusatory and not at all sympathetic. Even with English clearly not being his first language, you could hear his overwhelming disappointment. Over the two weeks he's kept you here his English had somewhat improved either by hearing you speak it whether you were asking to excuse yourself to find somewhere to use the bathroom in the empty bucket he gave you. Or from your begging and pleading for him to just let you go home.

Your cold hands desperately wiped the tears from your eyes, and you stood to your feet. He watched you approach the elegant dining table, and you took your seat as far as you could away from him. It was painfully obvious that this night would go just about the same as every other night. You two would intensely stare at eachother while you'd ate your bread for dinner, he'd make you get up and walk to the guest bedroom where he'd make you strip naked and feed from you and then you'd pass out from the pain and awake in the morning to the Count missing and nowhere to be found.

It wasn't even like he needed to feed from you. From your understanding, as he explained it, he'd go into the nearby village and 'have his fill' after he had siphoned a small amount from you. It made you feel like some kind of appetizer or twisted desert for him to be keeping you alive this long. Even with his figure shrouded in darkness, you could still tell by his posture that he was growing impatient with waiting for you to finish your 'dinner'. It was almost like the flickering flame of every candle avoided his very figure as if the fire itself was scared of this entity.

When you finally finished, you stood up from the table and waited till he rose from his seat before you allowed him to lead you to the guest room. You had gotten so used to his grotesque heavy breathing that when he suddenly stopped, the silence was deafening.

"You are crying again." At least when he said it this time, he sounded somewhat amused. It was like he knew that you've accepted your fate and that there wasn't anything you or god could do about it. The door to the guest room opened slowly without him having to touch the handle, and you stepped inside, fingers already loosening the ties of your corseted dress. "Forgive my tears, my Lord." You cringed at the title you gave him. Of course, an entity this dark would be so egotistical to have you address him as a Lordship. You had wondered if this kind of evil was something that would come from inside someone or from the beyond.

"Why would I need to forgive such fragility? You are a human girl. It is in your nature to be weak and fragile." A vein could have popped in your forehead, and you wouldn't have even known it. His words made you seethe and boil with anger, you had to bite your tongue so hard not to say anything that would get him to eviscerate you on the spot.

"Ah, there she is, my cochetă, my minx, be angry so that all your blood may flow freely." Your body winced at the nickname he gave you. He had called you it frequently rather than your real name. Even when you had unknowingly signed away yourself to him in a contract, he addressed you only by 'cochetă' which he explained was romanian for Minx since you weren't at all fluent with the language yet. You dropped your dress and undergarments off in a chair away from that bed so that you may spare it from any more trauma. After taking your seat on the bed, you draped the blood-stained blanket over your shoulders in an attempt at making you feel like you haven't soiled your modesty.

"I have seen all you have to offer. You will not hide from my eyes." With in an instant, you removed the blanket, not from your own will but because he compelled you to do so. Another tear fell down the side of your face, and this one he wiped away with the side of one of his long pointed nails. Your head fell back onto the mattress, and the Count leaned over you and dropped his face to below your exposed left breast. His breath against your skin felt like ice, and you shut your eyes in order to brace for the pain that never came.

Instead of the feeling of two fanged teeth penetrating your heart, you felt the knuckle of one of his fingers brush against your clit and your back arched. Your eyes widened, and you sat up to meet his stare. There he stood, completely unafflicted by your reaction. In fact, it was almost as if you were the one who did something wrong. Impulsively, a heat pooled in your lower abdomen, it's warmth radiating down your legs. You squeezed your eyes shut in hopes to catch your breath and calm yourself down. What he did to you was only causing a natural response from your body, and you had no control over such responses.

Nonetheless, you still felt the urge to mentally shame yourself for being a such sinful whore who's body responds like that to the touch of something - someone so heinous. It was almost as if the devil himself had cursed you with such blasphemy with the way your nipples hardened to a peak and your thighs squeezed together, trying to prevent you losing yourself to sin any further.

You didn't even open your eyes back up when you felt his cold hand grab a hold of one of your thighs, you were then pulled further down the mattress closer to the edge of the bed and to him. A hand that was so cold that it felt like it was devoid of any life and any warmth worked it way up your chest and grabbed one of your breasts. You bit your lip to hold back a gasp when the peak of your nipple was rubbed back and forth by his thumb. It wasn't until you felt the contact of his mouth around one of your nipples that your eyes shot wide open.

You looked down to see that he had your left breast peaked in his mouth while he suckled on your nipple. Your body betrayed you once again, and that heat you were feeling at your core seemed to grow much hotter. A swipe of his cold tongue against your nipple made you look down again, and you got a good look at the head of the man doing this to you. He had since discarded his hat in the dining room, and now you have a much closer look at the spirit you were dealing with. The back of his head was rotten and decayed even under the several thin tufts of brown hair on his head. It felt like you were looking at a corpse of a man that should have been locked far away in a coffin in the depths of hell.

You weren't even paying attention when a hand parted your thighs and brought attention back to your clit, he pulled back the hood and started rubbing slow deliberate circles around it, being mindful of his claws. He switched to your right breast, and at this point, there was no use controlling your gasps and whimpers anymore. He was so gentle with you. Maybe this was foreshadowing that tonight would be the night he'd finally get rid of you, and this was just him rubbing salt in the wounds and making the evening last as long as possible. He'd never touched your nether regions before, but when he fed from the blood of your heart, he'd often rub his hands around your waist as if he was mockingly consoling you the way a lover would.

The hairs of his thick mustache tickled your nipple and you weren't ready for when he dragged downward a long lick from your breast, to over your stomach and then finally stopping at the mound between your legs. You exhaled deeply when he resumed and dragged his blackened tongue down your slit, getting a taste of your wetness in his mouth. This wasn't something you should be enjoying, just the symphony of approving noises that left your lips made you feel appalled with yourself. It wasn't until you felt his lips lock around your clit that you became heavy lidded and utterly defeated.

You settled with the idea that he's being so cautious with you because he's going to make you reap what you sowed when it was time for him to experience his own pleasure. And regardless of how good he made you feel in this very moment, you still hated him. He tricked and imprisoned you in this hellish imitation of a castle. He left you alone and unattended during the day, allowing a pack of wolves to ensure you never take your leave. It was because of him that your mother was a several weeks journey away, worried sick about you, and you weren't even sure if you'd ever see her again.

You were on the verge of crying again until he rose to his feet, his figure demanding your full attention. His clawed hands fiddled with the buttons of his trousers, and your breath hitched. The hefty fur cape he wore would frequently would drape over his frame and seculde him in almost total darkness. You never knew what his daily wear looked like since he seemed content in hiding in the shadows of your vision only to reveal slightly more of himself to you when he fed from your body. What came to your vision when he glanced back at you was the erect bulbous head of his cock. It was engorged and jutted upward toward the ceiling as if it demanded your gaze on it.

He crept closer to you, staring intensely as if trying to gauge your state of mind, trying to see whether you were going to fight or flee. Instead, you just allowed your head to fall back onto the mattress. It was pointless to do either of those, and deep down in the darker realms of your subconscious, this behavior from him was welcomed. When the head of his thick member prodded at your entrance, your breath hitched, and you closed your eyes tightly.

Instead of thrusting inside, he thrusted his shaft upward, dragging it along your slit to coat himself in your wetness. When the shaft slid up against your clit you couldn't help but mewl out, still feeling that knot in your lower belly that was just waiting to be undone. When he finally seized the moment to thrust inside you, your eyes shot open, burning and stinging with tears. The Count let out what sounded like an inhuman hiss as his length seeped into your heat, inch by inch. The stretch was almost unbearable. It felt like you were being split right down the middle into two halves of yourself, and you weren't sure what half you pitied more. Your mouth opened to make a noise, but nothing came out. Such an intrusion of this nature left your throat speechless and strained. He pulled his hips back, and a clawed hand shot up to your face and held you in place upon his re-entry.

Those pointed nails of his were so sharp it felt like you had needles digging into your skin. Beads of red came into your vision dripping down your face from how much pressure those thick claws of his put into your flesh. When you tried to snatch your face away from his hand, he only pulled out and thrust into you more harshly. The squelching noise your cunt made around his length felt nothing short of sinful. To your disbelief, you learned he still had more of his shaft left to give you when he pushed himself further inward to the hilt. The thick head of his cock struck your cervix like hammer and a painful cramping sensation followed behind it. He hummed a noise of satisfaction as if he was he was impressed you were able to take all of him to the hilt.

Your breasts bounced on your chest when he roughly pulled out entirely only to shove himself back in. You gave a whine in response, and it was only then that he had seemingly guaged a fine line of pleasure and pain for you. Adjusting himself, he started up a pace of feverent rutting that made your legs tremble pitifully around his waist. The pressure of his hand on your face left when he leaned over to get a taste of the clotted blood that dotted across your forehead. His body was so much larger than your own that he had to contort himself over you to be able to taste the crimson he created and be able to continue his rutting.

The frequent movement of your body from the impact of his hips against yours was beginning to loosen that knot you felt in your belly. Your moans grew louder, and so did the beating of your heart against your rib cage. Inducing this creature to feed from you because your heart enticed him was the last thing you needed right now. The pace of his thrusts harshened, and so did the primal look he had in his eyes. Having him over you and staring at you like this, as if he were a lion and you were a weak gazelle soon to be eaten. For such an entity of darkness, he had such expressive eyes, sometimes they were so black you could see your reflection. Sometimes, they were so white and cloudy, you'd wonder where he had come from, heaven, hell, or neither.

"Please..." You weren't quite sure what you were begging for, but in your heart, it felt like it was for release. Release from the built-up pressure in your belly, release from the castle, or even release from life itself. Your hand reached up, and you cupped the flesh of his face. His skin was so cold, so rotten, and yet there was a feeling of life as if there was perhaps a soul present, but you knew better. There wasn't any life within him, as he was death itself. There was no soul within him, as he claimed the souls of others.

The closer his body, his cock, brought you to this peak of of pleasure that you pleaded for, the wider the smile grew on your face. A smile that didn't go unnoticed as his lips claimed the skin of your neck in what felt like possessive kisses. Perhaps this union of flesh solidified the extent of your stay at the castle through your own submission and your yield to the power he had over you. Those kisses trailed up to your own lips, and you tasted death from his mouth to yours. You tasted your own blood from him, and you tasted his hatred and his darkness, and yet you no longer had fear for it. With a painful clench of your walls, you came undone, your release washing over you in thick waves.

The spasming, clenching, and squeezing of your canal made the already deep and ragged breaths he took erratic, as did his rutting a few quick snaps of his hips and you felt a spurt of cold fluid inside you. The chill of it rose up your spine as it felt as if death itself had released into you. A deep animalistic growl vibrated off of the stone walls around you and bounced around in your skull. When he removed himself from you, you felt the remainder of his spent coat your inner thighs.

You looked away as you sat up on your own elbows, trying to balance yourself, and when you looked up, expecting to meet the eyes of a starving beast, you were met with an empty room. He had left you, spared you even. You couldn't imagine the type of carnage and havoc he'd wreak upon those villagers tonight. Reaching up to clutch your necklace for security and your hands found nothing but skin. He was gone and had taken your necklace with him. He took it as if you had bestowed upon him the honor of having a maiden's token.

#horror x reader #monster x reader #nosferatu x reader #nosferatu #nosferatu 2024 #bill skarsgård #vampire x reader #vampire x human

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thescarletfang · 27 days ago

Text

don't want you like a best friend

Jack Abbot x F!reader

3.6k

Warnings: MDNI!!!!! 18+. face-sitting, oral sex (f recieving), deceased wife kinda mentioned, implied age-gap (reader mid to late 30s in my head)

Summary:

You look up to find him staring at you like he has you memorized.

Fuck it. He asked.

“He didn’t want to go down on me.”

The air gets sucked out of the room as your statement lingers between you. To his credit, Jack keeps looking right at you. Your face is on fire but you refuse to break eye contact first. You feel absolutely insane, and you think if this goes on for one more second you are leaving and walking to PTMC and jumping off of the roof.

Another muscle twitches in Jack’s jaw and your eyes flick to his knuckles flexing where he holds the mug, the only tells that he’s registered what you’ve said.

When he speaks, it comes out gravelly. “What?”

Jack can't handle that nobody's gone down on you in years.

******

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Jack smirks at your declaration, his eyes flicking over to where you’re melting into his couch. You glare at your attending — the man who has, over the last three years, become your friend.

“Kinda seems like you wanna talk about it,” he quips, voice full of mirth as he takes a sip of his tea. You raise your own mug to your lips, letting the English Breakfast warm you all the way to your toes.

It’s the end of both your days but the beginning of everyone else’s. The sun has just crested over Pittsburgh, slicing through the gray, industrial smog with shimmers of a spring morning.

It had been a hell of a night, so when Jack asked if you wanted to come back to his place for some tea to decompress, you’d agreed immediately. It’s a ritual between you, one forged from the fire of ED trauma and the feral atmosphere of working the night shift. Sometimes it’s your place. Other times – like now – it’s his.

You’ve been friends with Jack Abbot since the second year of your residency, and now in your final year, you feel calm with him in a way you don’t feel with anyone else.

You consistently ignore the fact that he is devastatingly handsome and the best man you’ve ever met. It’s fine. You are fine and you can compartmentalize and you do not – repeat, do not! – have something as juvenile as a crush on your night shift attending because that would just be…ludicrous.

Which is why earlier this week you had found yourself on the first date from hell with a radiologist. Jack had asked how it’d gone, a muscle ticking in his jaw, and you’d glared at him.

Which brings you to now, hiding behind your steaming mug of tea and burrowing into Jack’s ridiculously comfortable couch.

You sigh dramatically. “You really want me to relive the trauma?”

Jack barks out a laugh from the other end of the couch. “Jesus. That bad? Where d’you find these guys?”

Your face burns. “At least I put myself out there.” There’s a hint of defensiveness in your statement and Jack (who you sometimes suspect knows you better than you know yourself) clocks it immediately.

He clears his throat, eyes catching your gaze. “I’m not makin’ fun of you. C’mon, you know that.”

You narrow your eyes at him but don’t say anything for a moment. He rubs a hand along his scruff.

“Tell me what happened,” he says in a low voice.

“It’s embarrassing,” you mutter, draining the last of your tea. You avoid his stare as you sit your mug (the one you always use at his house, the one with a disturbing anthropomorphic stethoscope with eyelashes and lipstick, a gag gift you’d gotten for Jack’s 48th birthday last year), on his coffee table.

Jack shrugs. “It’s just me.”

Yeah, it’s just you.

He doesn’t even know he’s everything to you, and that’s the beginning and end of it all. You want to extinguish these stupid feelings because the truth of it is, if Jack reciprocated anything, he’d have made a move already.

Three, going on four years of closeness and tea and meals and movies and shared life and all of it. Of panic attacks and impatience and forgiveness and everything that makes up a foundation together.

And never once has it ever crossed a line into what you so desperately yearn for.

So, you go on dates. You hook up with men you know you’ll never build something with, and Jack remains firmly on the side of friendship. His hand continues to burn through your lower back when he passes behind you during a procedure, and he texts you good night every single fucking night and he’s so guarded and also the warmest man you know and the contradictions are pushing you toward a breaking point.

But at the end of the day, you cannot blame him. He lost a wife before you ever knew him, you see the shadows he carries and the pain that lives in his eyes and you think, okay. Okay.

This is enough.

Friendship is enough.

You look up to find him staring at you like he has you memorized.

Fuck it. He asked.

“He didn’t want to go down on me.”

Another muscle twitches in Jack’s jaw and your eyes flick to his knuckles flexing where he holds the mug, the only tells that he’s registered what you’ve said.

When he speaks, it comes out gravelly. “What?”

The spell is broken and you groan, closing your eyes and leaning back so far into the couch you think it’s going to swallow you up. You have never been this humiliated in your life and it’s honestly freeing in a bizarre way. The words pour out of you.

“You heard me! He said he doesn’t do that or whatever. Got real pissed when I told him I like, cannot physically just jump into penetration and need a partner to—to get me ready—”

A loud crash cuts you off and you realize Jack’s dropped his mug. It rolls underneath the coffee table, and you note that at least it seems he’s finished his tea.

You look at Jack and you’re startled to see his neck is flushed and there are twin pink spots on his cheeks.

His eyes are dark.

You suddenly feel warm in a different way.

Your heart begins to beat too quickly and the room suddenly feels too hot, Jack’s living room too small. You stand up, flustered. You and Jack never talk about…sex or hookups or anything like that and this is unchartered territory. You feel unmoored.

“It’s fine, I can’t remember the last time I hooked up with someone who actually wanted to do that—”

Jack makes a choked noise but you’re grabbing your purse from where you’d flung it on the couch, and you’re crossing his living room toward the door.

“Anyway, thanks for the tea, I’ll see you tonight—”

Jack says your name and you pause, hand on his doorknob. You take a breath and turn around. Jack’s no longer sitting. He’s standing in front of the chair, watching you closely. And then he crosses to you slowly, deliberately, his eyes refusing to look anywhere but into your own.

You want to die and yet you physically cannot move.

“Don’t go,” he says, voice gravel. He stops a space away from you.

Your chest is rising and falling too quickly and you wish the floor would swallow you up. You let out a disbelieving laugh.

“I am…mortified,” you tell him. “I can’t believe I told you any of that—”

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about,” he tells you, softly. “Those fuckin’ assholes are the ones who should be embarrassed.”

Your skin tingles. “Yeah?”

Jack nods, taking a step closer. You can feel the heat radiating off of him. “Yeah. Like I said before, where do you find these fuckin’ guys?”

You laugh weakly. “It’s rough out there, Abbot.”

Jack lets out a breath through his nose and he–he bites his lip for a moment, his eyes boring into yours. Your legs are quickly turning to jelly.

What. Is. Happening.

“I uh—I’m gonna ask you something,” Jack starts, voice frayed at the edges. “And you gotta promise not to slap me.”

You laugh because you can’t help it. “What?”

The corner of Jack’s mouth quirks up by just a fraction and he swallows roughly.

“Promise you aren’t gonna slap me.”

You look at him for a beat and when you realize he’s serious, you nod. “Okay. I won’t slap you.”

Jack steps even closer, his eyes flickering over your face, his head tilted down just slightly. The sharp line of his jaw begs for your fingers but you keep your hands at your side.

“When was the last time you came on someone’s tongue?”

Your mouth drops open and you gape at Jack, a ringing in your ears that wasn’t previously there. Did he—did he just—?

“Jack,” you choke but he doesn’t flinch.

“Tell me,” he urges, his fucking eye contact making your entire body light up. “Tell me the last time one of those fuckin’ assholes made you come on their tongue.”

You—you actually whimper—and Jack clenches his jaw so hard you think he’s going to break his teeth.

“I can’t remember,” you tell him quietly. “Years, I think.”

Jack nods, like you just told him the guy in T-5 needs to be intubated. “I’m gonna say something else now. You really gotta promise not to slap me, okay?”

You squint at him. “When have I ever given you the impression I’d slap anyone? Jesus.”

He grins now, boyishly, and it’s so lovely that you think, please. Please feel the same way I feel. Please.

“When Robby threatened to put you on day shift, you definitely seemed like you wanted to slap him.”

You laugh. “Robby is a little shit.”

Jack laughs right back. “Yeah, he is.” He pauses, takes a breath. The air shifts again and it’s warm and you’re in his orbit, you feel yourself gravitating toward this man always, always, always.

“Let me.”

Two words he says to you in a broken voice you’ve never heard from him. You frown, confused.

“Let you what?”

Jack doesn’t hesitate when he says, “Let me make you come with my tongue. Ride my face.”

“Jesus,” you practically squeal because you have never been spoken to this way before, this way that is so sexy and blunt and you never in a million years thought Jack would say this to you, no matter how many times you’ve dreamt of it. You stare at your friend, gobsmacked.

“Let me make you feel good,” Jack says in a low voice. You study him. He looks completely sincere. “Please.”

Is he-–is Jack Abbot begging you to let him make you come?

You have died. Surely, you have ceased to exist in this realm and you are looking down on another version of you in another world because Jack—he’s never given you any indication he’s ever even looked at you in a way that wasn’t platonic.

“You’re insane,” you tell him because he is. This man is out of his mind.

Jack throws you a challenging look, quirking his eyebrow. “Am I? ‘Cuz from where I’m standing, any guy who refuses to go down on you is fuckin’ insane.”

You have quite possibly never been more turned on in your life, but you need to Think Clearly because this could — it could —

“If you do this, this could change everything,” you tell Jack honestly, and you know he sees the trepidation in your eyes. You wonder if he can read your fears, can read how badly you want him and have always wanted him.

Jack shrugs. “So let it.”

Your eyes prick and you really need to get it together because you cannot cry at a time like this!

“But you don’t like me like that,” you say and you might as well have shoved Jack because he stumbles back as if your words have physical force.

“What?” This man! This man has the audacity to look affronted and you scoff at your disbelief at his reaction.

“What do you mean ‘what?’” You wave a hand between you. “You’ve never once made a move, Abbot. Excuse me if I am shook that you want to—to tongue fuck me all of a sudden.” You practically hiss “tongue fuck” and cannot believe the words have flown out of your mouth.

Jack groans, runs a hand down his face. “Christ. The mouth on you—” he shakes his head, puts both hands on his hips and it’s so stupidly adorable. “You’re a doctor, I know you’re smart, you gotta know why I haven't made a move.”

You glare at this sassy man in front of you because how dare he. “When a guy doesn’t make a move, it’s usually because they’re not into you! Which you clearly are not! Into me, I mean.”

Jack looks at you like you’re the biggest idiot he’s ever seen and like he’s about five seconds away from grabbing your face and bringing it to him.

Instead he stares for a moment and swallows. Your eyes follow his Adam’s apple, the way it bobs nervously.

“You’re—you’re—” Jack breaks off and you’re so thrown by hearing him stutter. He’s always so sure. “Fuck, look. I’m old and—and you’re so good, you’re fuckin’ everything, what the hell do you want with a bum like me?”

His voice is so broken and you read between all the lines, everything he’s not saying.

I’m old.

I lost this once.

I’m no good.

I don’t deserve you.

“Jack,” you whisper, and your hands come to cradle his jaw. He huffs out a breath of air, closes his eyes and leans against your hands. The motion makes you brave.

“I want everything with a bum like you,” you tell him, your bleeding heart exposed and lying on the floor between you. Jack’s eyes fly open, dart between yours.

“Yeah?” he croaks. He lifts his hands to your wrists, holding your own hands in place as they cradle his scruffy jaw.

“Yes, you idiot,” you say, the words floating on a little laugh. “I’ve been waiting for you for…well, for a long time.”

Jack’s eyes glisten. He swallows. “I didn’t—I couldn’t ever let myself think that you’d ever want me as anything more than your friend.” He takes a breath. “I was willing to be just that forever if it was the only way you’d ever have me.”

You grin at him. “But you offer to let me sit on your face?”

Jack’s eyes flash. “Yeah, I’m kinda doing all this backwards, huh?” Then, “I’m not good at this. I haven’t done it in awhile. Not since—”

He breaks off roughly and you skate your hands down from his jaw to rest against his chest. You look up at him and you hope your eyes ground him.

“I’m not good at this either,” you say. “We can…figure it out together. If you want. If you want me.”

Jack twirls a lock of your hair in his hands for a moment before he tucks it behind your ear. “You have no idea how badly or how long I’ve wanted you. Jesus. I want you so bad.”

You smile. “Oh good. Cuz I want you too.”

You catch sight of the relief in Jack’s eyes for a moment before he bends down and presses his lips against yours. You squeak into the kiss, so shocked that it’s finally happening and you can feel Jack smirk against your mouth. His tongue traces your bottom lip and you open for him and oh my god.

Jack’s tongue.

It’s licking into you and all you can taste is tea and Jack and holy fuck, he is such a good kisser. You slide your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and his hands find a home on your waist and your bodies bend together.

He pushes into you, and a hand comes up to cradle the back of your head just as your back hits the door. Jack breaks away from your lips, his own trailing down your throat and you gasp for air. You press into him and feel his hardness against your belly and you throb between your legs.

“Fuck, I need to taste you,” Jack pants, resting his head on your shoulder. You run a hand through his hair, gripping those salt-and-pepper curls that drive you insane.

“So taste me,” you tell him because you are an insane person. Jack makes you feel insane.

He pulls back, looking down at you and before you can say anything, he grabs you under your thighs and picks you up with strength you are—quite frankly—shocked by. You are not a tiny human and Jack’s nearing fifty and you’re wrapping your legs around Jack’s waist and oh my god, you’d die to see the way his arms are probably straining and flexing.

“Hold on,” he growls and begins walking you toward what you assume is his bedroom but you’re a little distracted because he’s sucking on your neck. You grind into him and he moans and you’re moaning and it’s so much.

“I can’t believe you’re carrying me right now,” you gasp as Jack shoulders his way through the bedroom door.

“I’m in great shape,” he defends and you’re about to say some smart-ass comment but it dies in your throat when he tosses you — tosses you!!!! — onto his bed. You bounce for a second before you lie on your back.

Jack kneels on the edge of the bed and you prop yourself up on your elbows, looking at him and trying to catch your breath.

“Take your clothes off,” Jack says, voice low and you can actually feel yourself get wet. He’s so commanding.

You sit up, shrugging out of your t-shirt. You drop it over the edge of your bed and raise an eyebrow at Jack, who’s still just kneeling and watching you. His eyes skate over your simple cotton bra like it’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen.

“You too,” you tell him and it spurs him into action. With one hand he reaches behind his head, tugging his t-shirt off and oh my god. His chest and his broad shoulders and his tousled hair.

He leans down, his hands meeting the mattress and he crawls over to you, caging you in as you lie back down. His lips find the spot between your shoulder and neck and then his teeth skate over your bra strap and is—-is he—yes, he is pulling your bra strap down by his teeth.

“Jack,” you whine and he grinds his clothed cock over your core, fucking you into the mattress without actually fucking you and your head buzzes.

He must sense your desperation in the way you say his name because he leans back and clothes are shed quickly. Your bra, his shoes and pants, your shoes and pants and then finally he’s looking down at you in only his briefs and you’re completely naked, your tits rising and falling and he’s panting, holding himself up, muscles corded in his arms and neck.

“I’m ready for you to ride my fuckin’ face,” he says, voice wrecked with need and you whimper again. He gently scooches you over and lies down on his back and you sit up, throwing a leg over him, your bare cunt meeting the skin of his chest.

His hands grab onto the meat of the back of your thighs, drift to grab handfuls of your plush ass and he moans, “You’re so fuckin’ sexy.”

You hover above his mouth, your hands find the top of his bed-frame and you look down. The sight almost destroys you.

Jack is looking up at you, curls disheveled, mouth glistening, a red flush down his neck, and your thighs are on either side of his head. He breathes you in and you almost come from that alone.

“Come on, baby,” he growls. “Ride me.”

You don’t need to be told twice.

You sit down — on his face — and you can feel his groan reverberate through your core. From this angle, his tongue hits so deep and you haven’t felt this in so fucking long.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you’re babbling, your hips already grinding against his face as he laps at your center. “Fuck it’s so good, Jack it’s so good.”

Jack’s eyes are open as he eats you because the man maintains eye contact like a motherfucker. His hands dimple your ass cheeks and he rocks you over his face while his tongue fucks you deep. The sounds that fill the room are obscene, your pussy wet and dripping. You slap your own thigh as you feel yourself getting so, so close—

“Yes!” you scream, gutturally, primal, you didn’t realize you were this loud during sex but it’s never been this good. “Right fucking there, fuck me right fucking there, Jack.”

Jack’s tongue is relentless and it finds your clit and he sucks hard and you’re done for.

“Oh fuck, I’m coming, Jack—-Jack, fuck, fuck!” Your vocal chords are shredded as your hands slam against his bedroom wall, your hips grinding against his tongue as your climax hits you, your nerve-endings on fire.

You can’t catch your breath. You’re trying to and look down as Jack licks up all your juices, kisses the inside of your thighs, looks up at you.

He looks so debauched, lips glistening, eyes pussy-drunk on you.

“You taste unbelievable,” he tells you, his voice husky. “I could die down here.”

You laugh, a wild free thing dislodging itself from your throat. You’re still straddling his chest, hands still braced on the wall. You move to get off, but Jack’s hands lock into your waist, keeping you in place.

“I’m not done,” he tells you, and — is he pouting?

“Jesus,” you say because you are spent and somehow already you feel yourself throb again. “You’re not?”

“Fuck no,” he tells you, and kisses your thigh. “Ride me again.”

You lick your lips and Jack’s eyes trace the movement. “I’ll ride your tongue again but then I need you to fuck me with your cock. Deal?”

Jack chokes on a laugh, like he can’t believe you’re real. Like he can’t believe you're his.

He leans up, and right before his tongue licks into you again, he grins. It lights up his entire face.

“Deal.”

#dr jack abbot x you #dr jack abbot #dr jack abbot x reader #dr jack abbot x f!doctorreader #dr jack abbot x f!reader #jack abbot x you #jack abbot x reader #jack abbot smut

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dwaekkicidal · 7 months ago

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Oh my god I beg for some mean skz smut 😔😔

hmmmm ok but what are we thinking for the hyung line?

is it about meanie channie who snaps after you slut yourself out in the studio when staff was in there- along with the rest of 3racha who you know has a little crush on you hehe. he barely waits for them to walk out the door before shoving you towards the door, forcing you to lock it before shoving his cock into you while you're pushed up against the door- mind you with minimum prep because "You don't deserve it. after that shit." his cock is soooo much thicker like this!!!! >.< and he manages to make his thrusts prove his anger? hips smacking into yours so harshly that it feels like the soundproof door isn't enough to drown any sounds out

what about brat tamer minho who forces you to sit between his legs and watch him jerk himself off? you have a pretty little vibrator thats connect to your clit and your g-spot simultaneously, and he has the controls on his phone that rests in his free hand. he fucks with the controls so much... maybe even teasing u by drawing his full name- in english AND korean- before setting it to the highest setting and leaving it like that until you're cumming at least 3 times.

my sweet binnie who's only mean if you beg him to be or if you reaaaaally push his buttons- maybe throw in a dig or two about how theres another man out there thats better than he is (spoiler: theres literally negative of them). your punishment (reward) is always the same! one of those those sexy ass arms around your neck and squeezing as he fucks into you so roughly that your whole body is jumping forward, your moans cutting off from how aggressive he gives it to you!!!

ok but what about lover boy hyunjin who is actually one of the meanest doms you have ever seen, 99% of the time it being unprompted as well??? the first time you push him to get rough in bed, you're in for ittt~ he ties your wrists up and connects you to the hook in the ceiling, leaving just enough rope for you to be on your tippy toes (also the same hook he previously told you was for painting... yeah, my fucking ass) and speaking of asses, yours is sooo sore from the big handed smacks he leaves there >< he'll always stop if you want it, but otherwise he has no plans to until you submit to him completely <3

whats on the menu for the maknaes today?

definitely munch hannie who ties you up with the most random shit that works- any ties he has laying around, your panties, and sometimes he'll straight up rip his shoelaces out for it?? but it's all so that he can show off the shibari he secretly learned- the main one being a series of knots that tie your arms to a leg each, forcing you wide open for him all the while he eats. and what a messy fucking eater!!! your last 3 orgasms worth of cum dripping down his jaw as he nibbles at your sensitive spots <3

"angel boy" felix me thinks.. who makes you fuck yourself onto him in doggy, refusing to put any effort because he's the "angel" who deserves to be worshipped (yes but...) if you falter even slightly or move to his disliking, you're getting a series of mean smacks- ones that leave a pretty little heart shape in its wake from the pretty pink paddle he insisted on buying (OR HIS INITIALS IF HE GETS A CUSTOM PADDLE OMFFF)

ohhhh but owner seungmin who fucks your brains out with a pretty little collar around your neck <3 (maybe even one also with his initials engraved hehe) he tugs at it to fuck you back onto him, not even need a leash when he slides his finger through one of the loops. huffs and puffs about how tight you are while he actively works to make you tighter, from squeezing your legs together to overstimulating the hell out of you all the while he disallows himself to cum for as long as he can handle, all so when he finally busts theres so much and its all getting fucked right back into you

and god... toy fiend jeongin... the second you let him know you're ok with toys being brought into the bedroom, you're almost regretting everything!!! he's SO fucked up about it >:( he keeps one of those big hands around your throat while the other slides a vibrator as deep into you as it physically can go without causing you pain... and when you squirm around and your legs squeeze together, he's either digging his fingers into your thigh to push them apart or he's biting whatever he's closest to- your thighs, your calf, your shoulder, or (his favorite) your nipples <3

hnnnnng....

Taglist (red=can’t be tagged):

@valkyriexo @lunearta @jabmastersupriseee @rylea08

@yaorzu-blog @amararosesblog @jiminssluttyminx @clemissleepy

@miss-daisy04 @kittyxnoa @dwaekkiiracha @bubblerizz

@mariteez @fun-fanfics @honeyybbuubblleess @kittycatkrissa

@nicora04 @chuuyaobsessed @moonlightndaydreams

@aeri-skzver

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p0orbaby · 2 months ago

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pregnant!r x either alexia or leah - reader has been really horny but alexia/leah is really tired and can’t help them out so reader takes care of it right next to them but alexia/leah can’t take it anymore and they end up having sex (preferably with a strap, but cool if not)

broken english alexia is hotter than her speaking catalan or spanish. i will debate this

Alexia is wearing her ‘No Sex’ t-shirt again.

Not literally—it’s a crusty old grey t-shirt with a hair dye stain—but spiritually, it’s the same.

She’s draped half-on, half-off the bed, one leg kicked out at a graceless angle, head tipped back, hair sticking to her forehead like she’s been dragged backwards through a wind tunnel. She smells like Aesop deodorant and the free isontonic from the training ground.

You sit cross-legged beside her, vibrating.

Not metaphorically.

Literally vibrating, like a microwave about to explode.

Hormones are ruining your life.

Your body is not your own—it’s a rental car no one ever serviced, bumping along on three wheels and a prayer.

Six months pregnant and you’ve never been more exhausted, more tearful, or—apparently—more horny in your entire existence.

“I am dead,” Alexia says, eyes closed.

“I noticed,” you say dryly, flicking the edge of her shorts.

You could climb her like a tree.

You could ruin her.

You could sob into her mouth and call it foreplay.

You shift closer.

Subtle.

Tactical.

An elbow bump. A brush of your knee.

A whimper you swear isn’t on purpose.

“Mm,” she says, noncommittally.

You trail a finger down her arm.

She doesn’t even flinch.

Might as well be trying to seduce a chair.

“I’m so horny I could kill someone,” you announce, flat as a dinner plate.

She cracks one eye open.

Chuckles.

Pats your thigh in a gesture so dismissive it feels like a friend of a friend trying to comfort you at a cousins funeral.

“I love you,” she says, “but no.”

“Seriously?”

“I am a corpse,” she says solemnly. “Sexy corpse. But still.”

You sit there.

Seethe.

Boil in your own tragic juices.

You imagine throwing yourself dramatically off the bed.

You imagine suing your hormones for emotional damages.

You imagine clinging to Alexia like a koala and simply refusing to let go.

She yawns, deep and long, and misses you glaring at her like you’re planning a murder.

After four minutes (you count), you snap.

Silently.

Decisively.

You shuffle down the bed, furious, grab the waistband of your knickers in a way that looks way less graceful than it feels, and shove your hand down.

Alexia doesn’t notice at first.

She’s too busy being dead.

You work yourself up, quick and pitiful, as if you’re punishing yourself for being a sad, sex-starved whale.

The sheets rustle.

The room smells like lavender detergent, betrayal, and injustice.

After a minute, there’s a pause.

A disturbance in the force.

Alexia opens her eyes again.

Turns her head.

Watches.

At first, there’s confusion.

Then disbelief.

Then outrage.

“¿Qué haces?” she says, sitting up a fraction.

Her hair’s sticking up like a sad palm tree.

“What’s it look like?” you snap.

“You…without me?”

“You said no!”

“I only mean no to dishes,” she says, scandalised. “Not to this.”

You glare at her.

Keep going.

Because now it’s about principle.

Alexia watches you, chest heaving, mouth open like she’s witnessing a robbery.

“You are…?” she gestures vaguely, unable to find the English.

“Sorting myself out,” you say sweetly.

She groans.

Throws an arm across her face like a maiden fainting.

“You are so bad,” she mutters.

“You’re the one abandoning your pregnant wife in her time of need,” you hiss.

You’re close, now.

Closer than you want to admit.

Your hips are shifting, your stomach tightening, your breath going embarrassingly shaky.

Alexia’s hand shoots out.

Grabs your wrist.

Tight.

“No,” she says.

“You can’t stop me now,” you growl.

“Not stop,” she says. “I fix.”

And then she’s on you.

All lazy muscle and hot skin, pinning you down, taking charge like you’re a job she’s been reluctantly guilted into—but is secretly going to ace anyway.

Her mouth finds your neck, warm and biting, and you cry out, shuddering into her hands.

“You are annoying,” she mutters against your throat.

“That’s on you,” you gasp.

She laughs—dark and low and breathless.

“Next time, you wait for me,” she says, fingers sliding down your belly with absolute purpose. “I make you forget you even have hands.”

You believe her.

Because when Alexia Putellas finally makes up her mind—even if she does it late—there isn’t a force in Barcelona, or hell, even the entire galaxy, that can outpace her.

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #woso #woso x reader

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moon-ttokki-x · 4 months ago

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Hey, how are you? May I ask for stray kids 9th member being a poliglot?

this was a cool request, ngl . . . i didn't do a traditional fic bc i like this format a lot, and plus, it's cuter that way >< also can we just appreciate the pretty purple theme guys

skz x 9th member!reader who can speak multiple languages

pairing: ot8!skz x 9th member polyglot!reader

summary: skz with a 9th member who is a polyglot.

genre: extremely fluffy, very cute stuff, pretty soft, some member x reader stuff, chaotic skz, naughty minho and maknaes, leader chan agenda, romantic hyune, reader who can read, write, and speak multiple different languages

a/n: interesting request . . . divider by @chachachannah

skz masterlist

Chan who wants you to teach him how to say lovely little phrases like 'i love you' and 'you are the light of my life' in different languages, asking you cutely with the biggest, cheesiest grin on his face. He goes around saying them to the other members, who don't understand what language he's talking in, and ignore him. But it doesn't matter, because now he feels like he has a little part of you with him wherever he goes. Is always fascinated as he watches you change languages in the blink of an eye. Makes a sweet sentence in one of your languages his bubble caption.

Minho who, on the other hand, asks you to teach him the dirtiest, filthiest phrases you can think of. They're too graphic to be put here, but some of the milder phrases include 'fuck you' and 'i hope you swallow spiders in your sleep'. Like Chan, he also goes around telling the members these sentences and grins the biggest you've ever seen because now he can swear without being caught. Sometimes does it on stage too, but really quietly just in case there's a couple Stays who actually understand what he's saying.

Changbin who watches in awe as you seamlessly transition between being on the phone, writing things down, and chatting with someone all at once while swapping languages. His head hurts after and he watches you quietly as you go about your usual business, not quite understanding how you do it. He learnt English with some a lot of difficulty, so he's stupefied by the fact that you've learnt not one but multiple languages, and can speak them all fluently. Always asking what you said after you switch back to a language he can understand.

Hyunjin who thinks up the cutest, sweetest, most romantic phrases on a whim, and after he asks how to say them in a language. So you tell him, thinking he's just curious. A few weeks later, you find a painting in your bedroom, a vase of your birth flowers and one of the phrases painted delicately in black across the bottom. He always asks what certain words mean, and asks you to translate random sentences. Has the biggest shine in his eyes as you sit down with him and tell him what all of the words mean, and how to say them. Stumbles through pronunciation but it's cute, so you kiss him as a reward.

Han who also asks what certain words mean, but more often than not, has a translating app open on his phone so he can find out for himself. Spends hours in secret trying to learn sentences by himself, and records himself saying the lines so he can check if he's saying them correctly. Like Changbin, is fascinated when you can switch languages just like that. Once said a rude phrase in front of his hyungs and got scolded because Chan actually understood what it meant (somehow). Got sentenced to 25 pushups as a punishment and never did it again.

Felix who buys workbooks and installs language-learning apps in a bid to try and communicate with you in your languages. Ends up spending over $400 just to spend hours upon hours studying them, much like he did when he was learning Korean. Doesn't notice when you sit down next to him and stroke his hair, he's so focused on learning your languages. Wants to communicate with you in every way he can. Refuses to talk to you in Korean or English until he gets fluent in at least two of your languages, and asks for kisses and hugs when he understands what you're saying to him.

Seungmin who sits in quiet fascination as you write in one language and talk on the phone in another. Isn't as forward in telling you that he wants to learn some of your languages, but definitely goes online and does his own research. Likes looking up the origins of each language and how the words were formed. Finds himself repeating little phrases he'd caught you saying that morning or the night before. Will never admit that he finds it fascinating that you can talk, read, and write in different languages, but nods and listens when you tell him all about it anyway, admiring the passion in your eyes with a warm heart.

Jeongin who learns weird phrases to catch you off guard, because he loves the speechless look on your face when you hear them. Is too shy to ask you outright to teach him your languages but also does research so he can learn himself. Recites off lines to the members and forces them to sit and listen so he can say them to you without messing up. Ends up wasting a lot of practice time, but he doesn't really care. Learns to write keywords and cute little sentences, and writes them in the margins of your notebooks to surprise you. Doodles love hearts and stars around each phrase.

a/n: very cute

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strwberri-milk · 3 months ago

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hey!! can you do lads guys with reader who compromise with any situation without getting upset or making demands because reader thinks they don't deserve their love? For example, if the guys cancel dates, forget an important date or can't make enough time for them.

English is not my first language so I hope you understand lol 😭

i think youd also like this!! and this!! it doesnt include caleb but ive dumped him here for that! - also a brief reminder to please request three characters unless you dgaf about the level of detail in a request. ive decided to give caleb more of the spotlight in this one after the general clump since their details are involved in the posts ive linked up there!!

He feels awful about how much time he can't spend with you. He can tell you're just trying to accommodate your schedule to his. He's always busy and he always will be busy but somehow, you always manage to be free whenever he's free. He sees how you bend over backwards to ensure he doesn't feel bad about constantly cancelling or missing out on dates.

Thankfully. you do see the effort he goes through to see you but you also feel bad when you see how hard he works to see you. You try to convince him that you don't matter that much and he's got so many more important things to worry about it, but he's not convinced that you realise just how important to him you are.

He's going to spend the rest of his life reminding you just how much he loves you and that he's devoting his entire life to you because honestly, that's all he wants to do. He'll ensure you become more confident in the relationship by consistently reassuring you that he loves you and you're allowed to ask things of him - don't ever assume you aren't.

Caleb honestly would never miss out on a date with you or any sort of event. He's got a dedicated calendar for just you and he does absolutely everything he can that's within his power to make it to you. Even if he can't be there physically he sends a package, or does a grand gesture to make up for it.

If he misses something, it's because something literally physically dragged him away from you. Most likely, what happened was that if he refused to show up for a job your life would be at risk so he has to go, unable to even find the time to shoot you a message because of how last minute it is.

When he comes home to see you wrapped up in the sheets, holding yourself tightly in a bid to console your broken heart without worrying him his heart breaks. He wastes no time bundling you up in his arms and whispering sweet nothings into your ear, even if you can't hear it. He picks you up and takes you out to the main living room, gently kicking away at the bundles of gifts he sent to you in his stead as he brings you to sit on his lap on the couch, where he can wait for you to wake up after being removed from bed.

When you do wake up his lips are immediately on yours, mumbling words of love and adoration with such an intensity you wonder if he's even breathing. He doesn't need to - not when he's got you in his arms.

If you ever try to break up with him he just denies it outright. He won't let you leave him. He loves you and he has for the entirety of his life - is that not enough for you? He's spent years proving it to himself, earning the right to love you. He'd manage to get the reason for it out of you quickly, eyes narrowing as he crowds you against the wall of his penthouse.

He'd tell you everything - remind you just how much he loves you. If you try to tell him you don't deserve it and he should be with someone else he's furious, of course. Nobody else deserves you and he's done everything he can to make himself worthy of loving you. He'll just reiterate it over and over again, speaking softly as he convinces you to let him show you what it means to be loved. You won't be breaking up with him and he won't be hearing anything of it ever again.

#love and deepspace x reader #lads x reader #l&ds x reader #caleb x reader #l&ds caleb x reader #lads caleb x reader #zayne x reader #l&ds zayne x reader #lads zayne x reader #lads xavier x reader #l&ds xavier x reader #xavier x reader #sylus x reader #l&ds sylus x reader #lads sylus x reader #rafayel x reader #l&ds rafayel x reader #lads rafayel x reader

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johanna-517 · 3 months ago

Text

"Special and unique"

(CHAPTER 7)

A few months passed, your life in the mansion remained as empty as ever.

You still had no interaction with Bruce, you never spoke with him, and of course, it was the same with your brothers; they never sought you out, and you never sought them out.

You always used to see them all together from afar, talking, smiling, and laughing like a happy family. And you weren't part of that happy family, of course.

Every time they saw you, everyone would instantly look away. One thing that remained unchanged during these months was undoubtedly everyone's indifference toward you.

None of them ever apologized for what they did to you in the past, none of them cared about you, probably none of them were aware of you yet, probably even they already forgot what they did to you, the way they treated you, the pain they caused you... They forgot and left it behind, as if it didn't matter, as if it had never happened.

But you... You still haven't forgotten. You'll never forget what they did to you, ever. You refuse to forget the suffering each and every one of them caused you.

Even if you act indifferent to them now, it doesn't mean you don't hate them, because you really do.

You stayed in your room most of the time, locked between those four walls as if they were your safe place. They weren't, of course they weren't, since you definitely still hated this room. But you had no choice; it was best to stay here alone with Toti. This was better than walking around the mansion and running into one of your siblings outside. Because, you had to learn this the hard way, but you finally understood... No matter what, any interaction with them would go horribly wrong, and everything would be ruined even more instead of improved.

However, unfortunately for you... you finally had to start attending school. Because when you arrived, you still didn't speak English very well and were still depressed about your mother, Alfred allowed you to stay at the mansion for a few months without attending school, only until you were ready.

You still remember the day Alfred walked into your room, leaving your school's fancy new uniform for you on your bed. You asked him what it was and tried not to grimace when he told you you'd now be attending a school in Gotham.

You definitely didn't want to, you didn't feel like going, studying at a huge school, and being surrounded by rich and privileged kids almost wanted to make you scream in frustration.

But you also knew you couldn't refuse, education is necessary, and no matter how much you want to, you can't avoid going to school forever.

Your first day... It was an unpleasant day for you, to tell the truth. Alfred led you to the school gates, smiling at you, seeming happy to be taking you to your first day of classes in Gotham. While you... You were almost dizzy seeing such a huge school, with students of similar ages to yours everywhere.

You found it awkward to be in a large classroom filled with so many students, you sat alone at the back, not wanting to draw anyone's attention on your first day. However, as soon as the teacher introduced you as (y/n) Wayne, all the glances you were trying to avoid instantly turned to you.

The students whispered among themselves, wondering if you really were Bruce Wayne's daughter.

The simple fact of having that last name made several of your classmates want to get close to you, pretending to be kind and wanting to be your friend simply because of your last name.

But you knew, you saw through their fake kindness instantly, so you just looked away and ignored them.

This... It was definitely very different from your old school. When you went to school in Mexico, it was better. You enjoyed attending that small but colorful school. You got along with all your classmates. The teachers adored you. You always found it easy to get very good grades. You never felt bad there. Everything was peaceful and happy in that small school. You loved going there. Every day there was as amazing as the last.

But now... You're no longer in Mexico, you're no longer at that small, colorful school you loved so much, now you're in Gotham, at a new school that you definitely don't like. But there's nothing you can do about it... You just have to get used to this and accept it, even if you don't want to.

Your first few weeks at Gotham High School were boring and unpleasant. You were always distracted, never paying attention in class, which is why your teachers scolded you regularly. You always stood apart from the rest of the students, with no interest in making friends.

It's okay, you're not surprised that you don't get along with them. Even more so because you know they don't actually like you, because of your eye color. You definitely noticed the way they stared at your eyes, the way they murmured to each other about your strange, weird eye color whenever they saw you. You even noticed the grimaces of disgust some of the teachers made when you stared at them, as if they didn't like seeing your strange eyes fixed on them.

But, the real nightmare at school soon began... And his name was Noah.

He was a student just a year older than you, quite conceited and self-centered, the son of the owner of one of Gotham's largest hospitals, and... He started getting too close to you, harassing and teasing you as much as he could. There wasn't a day that went by that he didn't make mocking comments about your eye color, your poor grades, and basically criticize absolutely everything about you.

You tried to ignore him, but he wouldn't let you, going to extremes that were impossible for you to ignore.

Remember when, one day at dismissal time, you had to stay in your classroom alone for a while longer because you were the only one who didn't finish the activity the teacher assigned today. As punishment, your teacher decided to leave you there until you finished.

However... You noticed Noah enter the room with his friends, and they closed the door. At that moment... Noah took advantage, this time starting to physically attack you. First, he pushed you, and when you fell to the floor, he started kicking you hard while his friends just laughed.

That time you returned to the mansion covered in bruises, Alfred asked you what happened, but you were in so much pain that you simply decided not to say anything and go to your room.

Another time, Noah threw a bucket of dirty water on you, claiming it was an accident. The teachers let it go and ignored the situation.

Plus, Noah used to pull your hair hard whenever no one was looking. He also used to hide your notebooks and homework, just so the teachers would scold you for it.

He once caught you with his friends, and without hesitation, they started using their pens and markers to scratch your face and clothes. You still remember how difficult it was to get the ink out of your face that time.

Another time, Noah even tried to put gum in your hair, and by sheer luck, you managed to avoid it. Not knowing that that wasn't actually the worst thing Noah could do.

The next day at school... Without saying anything, Noah pulled you by the arm and dragged you toward a small storage room in one of the hallways, where no one would be able to see you. You tried to resist, but you couldn't stop him from pulling you into the storage room.

He hit you, leaving countless bruises on your skin again, he also cut your arms a little using scissors, leaving thin lines of blood on your skin.

When he finished he just walked away, leaving you there alone.

You were shaking, tears streaming down your cheeks, your eyes wide open in complete shock as you took in all the marks on your skin. This time, he hit you harder, so the bruises were going to last longer than last time.

You stand there for a while, staring into space as you try to ignore the intense pain that runs through your body.

"It hurts... It hurts so much," you mumbled softly, trying to stop your hands from shaking. It's not fair, you have to suffer and go through this when you haven't done anything wrong.

Your mom used to say that... You always had to behave and be kind to others, that if you were good, no one would have a reason to hurt you. But that was a lie... Because, even though you never did anything wrong, all you get no matter what is contempt.

Everything in Gotham is suffering for you. Whether you're at the mansion or at school, it seems like you can never stop suffering.

'Why me?' you asked yourself, wondering what you did to deserve being hurt by everyone.

Shaking slightly, you got up as best you could, trying to avoid thinking about the burning and pain caused by all those wounds on your skin.

You were wearing a long-sleeved sweater to hide your injuries as you walked out of school, and Alfred picked you up. He asked how your day went. You gave a short answer, and that was it, without giving any further details or telling Alfred what happened.

When you arrived at the mansion, you quickly headed to your room and stayed locked there for the rest of the day.

You were wondering what you should do... You wanted to deny it, but deep down, you knew you were afraid Noah would keep hurting you. He didn't just insult you; his harassment went so far as to even physically hurt you, and that was too much.

You were scared... Scared of him, scared that Noah's bullying would get much worse later, you couldn't take it anymore.

You think and think... Should you tell Alfred so he can find a way to help you? Maybe. But... You heard that Noah's father was close friends with the school principal, so it won't be easy to get the principal to listen to your situation and expel Noah.

Then, at that moment, an idea crosses your mind... What if you tell Bruce? If you find him and tell him what's going on, he might go personally to speak to the director. Then, the director wouldn't be able to directly ignore the prestigious Bruce Wayne, and he'd finally do something about the harassment you've received from Noah.

You know Bruce is your best option, yet... You hesitate for a moment, you literally haven't spoken to him in months, you just saw him from afar every now and then, but you never tried to find him or get close to him again, and of course, he never approached you either.

You promised yourself you'd never go after him again, that you'd never ask him for anything at all, but this is a big deal. So, even if you don't really want to do it... You have to if you really want Noah's bullying to finally stop.

So, that day you waited until it was dinner time, since Alfred told you Bruce would arrive around that time and be here for dinner with the others. Even Jason and Dick would be here for dinner.

It was one of those rare occasions when everyone gathered for dinner at Wayne Manor.

In fact, you never participated in these 'family moments,' you never wanted to, even though Alfred told you to join in and attend. However, you will participate in this dinner, simply to talk about it with Bruce.

If you bring it up during family dinner, Bruce won't be able to ignore you, right? It's simple: just go to family dinner, bring up the subject, and ask Bruce to do something about it. Everything will be fine, right?

That's what you try to tell yourself, trying to calm down a little while you comb your own hair, just a few minutes until you get down to the dining room.

"I can do this, I can do this," you repeat to yourself with determination. When you're finally finished getting ready, you walk over and give your beloved Toti a small kiss before placing him on the bed and finally walking toward the door, leaving the room.

You were wearing a long-sleeved black blouse, of course, to hide the recent injuries Noah inflicted on you. You haven't even told Alfred about them until now.

You walk slowly, trying to ignore the growing feeling of nerves and anxiety in your chest.

Finally, you reach the dining room. And you see them all there together. You almost flinch when they all turn to stare at you, not expecting your presence, since you didn't usually attend family dinners. Or maybe they were just surprised to see you here right now because they forgot you existed, right?

You sigh softly as you approach the large table. Alfred smiles at your arrival and guides you to your place at the table. Unfortunately for you, Tim was sitting on your right and Stephanie was sitting on your left.

You didn't like it... You didn't like being here, near them. But you have to endure the unpleasant feeling of discomfort, just for now, just because this time it's about something important and this is your only option.

You stare at the plate of food in front of you. Alfred's meal looked as amazing as ever, but for some reason, no one felt like eating right now, not even you. Maybe it's because of the tense atmosphere at this so-called 'family dinner.'

Okay, never mind. You didn't really come to spend quality time with your so-called family, and you didn't come to eat either. Your goal was simple: talk to Bruce and ask him to come to your school to speak with your principal so your classmate would stop bothering you.

"Father..." you began, definitely feeling like fainting just from having to call Bruce that, but you'll have to bear with it just this once. "I... Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something. The thing is... I'm having some trouble un the school, and I was hoping-"

At that moment, you were interrupted by Stephanie's laughter, when you turned to see her she simply looked away, trying to hide her laughter.

Just then, Jason spoke up. "Oh, the weird little girl is having trouble at school... What's wrong? Is it because no one wants to be your friend?" he asked, a smirk on his lips.

"If you have a problem with that or your grades, it has nothing to do with Bruce. Do you expect him to fix your bad grades or the fact that no one wants to be your friend?" Tim spoke up, frowning slightly as he looked at you. How dare you try to ask Bruce to fix your trivial school problems?

You remain silent for a moment, looking down. They... They didn't even let you finish speaking. They don't know what you're going through at school, they don't know the countless bruises and wounds you have thanks to one of your classmates.

"I-it's not because of that... I just wanted to-" before you could continue speaking, you are interrupted, this time it's Bruce who intervenes.

"If you have any problems with school you can tell Alfred, I'm busy and I don't think I can go to your school" he stated with a serious expression, without even looking at you.

The damned indifference in his voice was evident to you... Did he really not have time for you? Couldn't he care even a little about you, at least this once? You're his daughter. But... No one here seems to hear you. No one knows the seriousness of what you're going through, no one can understand you. No one even tries to understand you.

You grit your teeth, clearly annoyed. You've literally been beaten and bullied at school, and you... You don't even have a father who can defend you? Okay, that's to be expected. Bruce hasn't saved you even once so far. Why did you think this time would be different?

You wanted to scream, you wanted to argue and tell Bruce you wanted his help because it was a serious situation. But then... The cold indifference in the air reminds you it's not worth it.

"Okay, I understand. I think I lost my appetite, I'm going to quit now," you said, getting up from your spot and starting to leave.

It doesn't make sense, right? No matter what, they still don't care about you one bit.

You reached your room, took slow steps, and approached one of the pieces of furniture, taking out a small photograph of your mother. You sat on the bed, holding the photo of your mother against your chest.

"Mom... Someone's been bullying me at school. He hits me, he makes fun of me, and he harasses me every day... I don't like it, I can't stand it anymore. So, I tried to ask my dad for help, but he... He doesn't have time." You stated softly, looking up at the ceiling of your room.

"And... my brothers didn't listen to me either. Tim said I shouldn't bother my dad with that stuff, Stephanie made fun of me, and Jason called me weird again." You let out a small sigh, ignoring the familiar way your eyes watered with tears.

"But Mom... I really can't take it anymore. I can't, I don't want to put up with this anymore. But not even Dad listens to me." You sobbed, tears of despair rolling down your cheeks.

"Si papá no me escucha... Tú si lo harás, ¿verdad madre? Te lo suplico mamá... Por favor, aleja a Noah de mí, para que ya no me haga más daño, por favor" You pleaded, holding the small photo of your mother tightly. Surely she'll listen, won't she? Your mother loves you; she can always protect you, even now.

That night you cried yourself to sleep, holding Toti along with the image of your mother next to you.

And then... When you had to go back to school, you were completely nervous, wondering how Noah was going to bother you today. But... You heard other students talking, and then you found out... You found out he and his family had recently moved to another country. You almost wanted to cry with joy when you heard it.

Noah's no longer here, your main concern is gone. You don't need to fear him now, he's gone and no longer around to hurt you. Not anymore.

Your mother did listen to you, didn't she? Of course she would. She loves you, she'll always love you.

You almost laugh when you remember trying to ask Bruce for help. When in reality, you never needed it; you just needed to turn to your real family: your mom. She listened, and you know it. Even if Mom isn't here, she still listens to you somehow, right?

Of course you did, you knew it, Mom would never abandon you, she would never be indifferent to you like Bruce.

From that day on, you felt calmer and happier. You didn't care at all about the mocking comments from your classmates or the constant scolding you received almost daily from the teachers. The only thing that mattered was that you no longer had to worry about Noah, because he wasn't here. He was gone, and now you're fine.

While at the mansion, Alfred asked you what had you in such a good mood, you simply smiled and replied, "It's because Mom helped me. I'm happy about that."

Alfred felt a little confused by what you said, but he didn't question anything else, instead he was just glad to see you so cheerful.

Now, more than a year has passed. It really surprises you a little how time has flown; you were already ten years old.

What's changed since then? Well, probably not much.

You were still not close to Bruce; he never even had time to say a word to you. And let's not even talk about your siblings; you still had a bad relationship with each of them.

Luckily, you hadn't had any major problems with any of them yet, because during this period you had made an effort to avoid them all in the first place. Avoiding each one of them meant avoiding problems with them. So it was perfect.

And it really worked for you, too. They were so caught up in their own personal lives and their vigilante identities that they never sought you out. You went completely unnoticed by them during this time.

You also had a few hobbies that helped you pass the time when you were bored in your room. You loved to draw, and your drawing technique improved over the months. You regularly drew certain types of flowers, landscapes, animals, and sometimes you even tried drawing portraits of your mother.

Another thing you did was crafts. You found making paper flowers very fun and relaxing; you loved experimenting with different materials and creating different things. So, your room, which you'd previously considered empty and depressing, slowly became warmer to you.

On your walls hung some of the colorful drawings you'd made yourself. All the crafts you'd made up until then also adorned your room.

Now, you felt more comfortable here, and you were always happy to add another new decoration related to yourself to your room.

And of course, you still kept in touch with your aunt and cousins. You used to call them twice a week. It really kept you calm and happy whenever you spoke to them, because it meant they still cared about you. That you were still important to them.

You loved when Erick told you he missed watching movies with you.

You smiled with joy when Abel told you that he missed playing with you in the yard.

And most of all, your heart felt warm when your aunt told you how much she missed you and that she hoped to see you again soon. She told you to take care of yourself and to tell her if you had any problems.

Although, you never told her, you couldn't tell your aunt that you were practically completely ignored by this family, even by your father.

You didn't want to tell her how much you suffered at first because of your father and brothers' attitude. Because you didn't want to worry her.

Anyway, you know she must have her own problems, you didn't want to burden her with yours.

Besides, right now your life at Wayne Manor was relatively peaceful, so everything was fine for now.

Oh at least it was until today.

You were definitely quite surprised as soon as you heard it. Alfred told you that a new member of the family would be joining today: Damian Wayne. He was also Bruce's biological son, your new brother, and he was about the same age as you.

You shuddered slightly, unsure what to make of it. You didn't know whether the news should excite you or worry you.

Well, when you were little, you always used to tell your mom you wanted a brother. You wanted a blood brother, one you could be close to, one you could spend a lot of time with. At the time, you were never going to have one, and you truly believed you'd never have a blood brother, but fate has shown you that you will finally have the blood brother you dreamed of when you were little.

But... Something makes you doubt. Because, even if Damian is your blood brother, that doesn't guarantee that he won't really ignore you like the others, right?

You didn't know what to expect, but you knew that no matter what, you had to accept it because, like it or not, he'd start living here too. And he's part of the family, too.

Finally... You met him. You stared at him for a moment, noticing the pretty green in his eyes. You'd say he was pretty, but Damian ruined your thoughts as soon as he started insulting you.

He started complaining about how weak you looked, the strange color of your eyes, and basically everything about you. You were almost shocked to see that he seemed to literally ooze hatred even though he was your age.

And... Damian didn't just lunge at you because Alfred was there to stop him.

You didn't even stay long, you just decided to go back to your room, not wanting to hear any more of your new brother's insults.

You downplayed it, as it wasn't surprising to you that you weren't getting along with your brother. And you assumed everything would be fine as long as you avoided Damian as much as possible, to avoid unwanted encounters. That way, you wouldn't have any problems with him.

But how wrong you were...

Even if you wanted to, you just couldn't avoid him completely, not when you literally started going to school with him. You're both close in age, so of course when he started your school, he was also in your grade, and you even had several classes together.

It was so awkward having to ride with him in the same car as Alfred drove them to school, it was annoying having to deal with his constant comments about how inferior you are, listing each of your flaws as if he actually knew you that well in the first place.

You tried to ignore him, you really did. You tried to ignore his insults about your eye color, ignore his blatant contempt for you, ignore the way he tried to lunge at you like a wild animal. You tried to ignore the way he treated you with contempt even at school, while the other students watched and laughed at you, amused by how pathetic you were to be publicly humiliated by your own brother.

You were irritated, and you definitely wanted to yell at him, insult him back, and hit him too. But you couldn't do it. Especially considering Damian was a genius with swords, a prodigy expert in attacking and fighting. You knew that if you tried, he'd defeat you in seconds. So you quickly pushed the idea aside, not wanting to take any chances.

Okay, you can tolerate it, you can still try to tolerate it a little longer, right?

A few months after Damian's arrival, there was another family dinner. You didn't want to attend, remembering the tense atmosphere of the last family dinner you attended, but this time, Alfred managed to convince you.

You don't know how he convinced you. Maybe it was because he seems to genuinely want you to get along with others and spend time with them, too. Because they're supposed to be your family, after all.

You can't tell Alfred how much you hated them, not when he's been so good at looking after you all this time. So, you agreed to attend, only because he asked you to.

You finished getting ready, putting on a short-sleeved blue dress. You look in the mirror, studying your arms for a moment.

You don't even have a single scar left from the wounds Noah inflicted on you before. You truly swore some would leave at least a small, lasting scar, but it seems you were wrong.

It's a little strange how perfect your skin is, how your body managed to make all the wounds you've had disappear without leaving even a small mark.

You shake your head slightly. You don't need to worry about that now, it's not the time. Rather, right now is the time to think about how to survive this family dinner.

"Esperame aquí, Toti... Volveré pronto". You say goodbye to your precious teddy bear, giving it a little kiss before placing it on the bed and finally leaving the room.

As soon as you get to the dining room, you see everyone already there. You notice Jason bothering Damian a bit, Bruce talking to Dick, Tim talking to Stephanie, and Cassandra looking calm in her seat.

Wow, they really do look like a real family together... without you.

You walk over to the table, and as soon as everyone sees you, they fall silent, staring at you.

Gosh... You just remembered how much you hate it when everyone looks at you at the same time. It's so awkward and annoying.

You maintain a calm expression as you choose to sit in the chair furthest away from the others. You're definitely mentally grateful that the dining room is extraordinarily large and you can get a spot away from the others.

After all, this time your only condition for coming to dinner was that you could sit wherever you wanted, and Alfred agreed.

You still remember how awkward it was last time you had to sit next to Tim and Stephanie. So, this time you're not going to take any chances; you'll keep the necessary distance.

You remain silent, looking anywhere but at anyone at the table.

Your plan to survive this dinner was as follows: remain unnoticed, don't speak, don't look at anyone, and leave as soon as you finished eating. Simple, right?

But your plans are ruined as soon as Damian gets up from his place, going to sit right next to you.

When you look at him, you notice the mischievous smile on his face. He's doing it on purpose, isn't he?

And then, he opens his mouth... Starting to try to annoy you again.

"Why do you sit so far away from the others? It's because you're a weirdo who likes to be away, right? Well, it's understandable to want to stay away from others by having eyes strangers like yours..." Damian stated in a dismissive tone, speaking confidently as if he were right.

You stay silent, not even looking at him, trying to ignore him. This obviously angers Damian greatly, not liking the fact that you ignore him as if he weren't even there.

"Even if I'm nice enough to come here and talk to you, you just ignore me. That's very rude. Didn't your mother raise you well? Well, she probably didn't, because she's already dead anyway..."

Instantly, you freeze, your hands clenching at Damian's words. How dare he mention your mother? He has no right.

Your expression tightens as you stare at him, trying to resist the urge to hit him.

"Well, at least... My mother is dead and that's why I'm here, because I can't be with her, but she would never have left me here if she were still alive. Not like you, who were too annoying even for your mother and that's why she abandoned you here and she left, because she doesn't love you" you answered with a cruel tone while you looked away.

It was the first time you'd responded this way to one of Damian's comments, but this time he really went too far with what he said. You couldn't stay silent. You wouldn't let him continue to talk carelessly about you. Much less dare he even mention your precious mother.

After you said that, Damian's expression darkened, he definitely didn't like what you said, and instantly... He lunged at you to attack you.

In just a few seconds I throw you from the chair to the floor, starting to try to hit you.

He manages to land a direct punch to your face, almost making you want to cry in pain. Gosh, he's definitely strong...

Luckily, before he can attack you further, the others finally act and take him off you. Dick manages to separate Damian from you.

You slowly stand up, bringing one of your own hands to lightly touch the area of your face that Damian hit.

Did it hurt? He definitely hit harder than you imagined. It was impossible for it not to hurt. In fact, you're thankful that he didn't have one of his swords nearby at that moment, because otherwise, this could have ended worse.

Do you regret it? Of course not. He was the one who started it; he asked for it by talking about your mother, and you don't regret saying what you said to him.

At that moment, Bruce approaches you, and... You don't like the serious, disapproving expression he has on his face.

"You shouldn't have spoken to Damian like that," he said, in his usual authoritarian tone.

You roll your eyes at his scolding, really... You haven't spoken to him in a while, and he only speaks to you to scold you for responding to Damian? It's not fair.

To be honest, when Damian first arrived you really wondered if he would be ignored by this family just like you.

And to your unpleasant surprise... It seemed more like he'd always belonged here. You tried to ignore the ache in your chest when you saw that Damian was so easily accepted by everyone, while you... They didn't even look at you when you arrived.

Even though Damian had a difficult attitude, he received support from everyone, even Bruce. And that's okay, because Damian is his son, but... You're also his daughter, and he was never good to you.

You didn't know if it was jealousy or just plain disappointment you felt when Damian arrived. Gosh, even Dick was so understanding and nice to Damian, and most of all, he actually gave Damian some time. Unlike you, who just made false promises and never followed through, never once seeking you out to spend time with you. You're also his little sister... So why does he only seem to notice Damian and not you?

You arrived first, and yet you still got nothing from this family. Damian arrived after you, with a haughty attitude, and yet everyone accepted and included him.

But that's okay, you don't need them, not now... So, not wanting to stay and listen to Bruce and Dick rant about how cruel your comment to Damian was, you decide to leave, quickly turning around and walking away.

Before you leave, you clearly hear Tim muttering behind you. You heard him clearly call you 'immature.'

From his perspective, you're probably just a rude little girl running away to avoid the scolding you deserve, aren't you? Well, he can think whatever he wants.

The fact that Bruce never chases you is great in situations like this, because you can just walk away without him claiming you and that's perfect.

You return to your room, reminding yourself not to attend any family dinners from now on.

You hug Toti and fall into bed. Once again, your encounters with your family continue to end badly, but honestly, it doesn't surprise or affect you like it used to.

So, you finally start sleeping peacefully... Without expecting what would happen the next day.

��: (Here is the chapter, sorry for the delay, I hope you liked it, and thanks for the support♡).

✯/Tag list: @hopingtoclearmedschool @simpingpandas @ryuushou @ninihrtss @soulsire @artistwithcreativeburnout @the-dumber-scaramouche @khalinda-ev @sillysealsies @moon0goddess @bunniotomia @twismare

#Special and unique #female reader #neglected reader #neglected reader x yandere batfam #yandere batfam #yandere bruce wayne #yandere damian wayne #yandere dc #yandere dick grayson #yandere jason todd #yandere tim drake #platonic batfam #batfam x reader #yandere batfamily #batfamily #x y/n #y/n

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vanteguccir · 4 months ago

Text

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤNOT AN UBER DRIVER * MATT STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　where a very much drunk Y/N, glasses-less, and leaving a party, hops into what she thinks is her Uber, only to be greeted by Matt, a cute guy who is definitely not her Uber driver.

FEATURING　Matt Sturniolo x reader　REQUESTED?　no.

WARNINGS　::　being drunk, feeling sick.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

The bass thumped through the pavement, the kind of deep, rolling sound that reverberated in her bones and made the ground feel unsteady beneath her feet.

Or maybe that was just the tequila. Hard to tell.

Either way, the party was starting to blur together, flashes of neon lights, the distant echo of laughter, the lingering scent of something vaguely sweet and smoky in the air.

Y/N blinked, trying to focus on her phone screen. The tiny glowing numbers refused to sit still, swimming in and out of focus as she squinted at them.

Where the hell were her glasses?

Right. In her purse. Or maybe on someone’s table. Or maybe gone forever. It didn’t really matter at this point. What mattered was that her Uber was here.

Probably.

The app had just pinged her, and that was her cue to leave.

With the kind of confidence only a drunk girl could have, she swiped a hand through her hair, straightened her posture like that would somehow make her seem more composed, and made her way toward the line of parked cars outside the mansion. The LA air was cooler out here, crisp against her flushed skin.

She hummed to herself, stumbling slightly as she approached the row of black and silver vehicles. Was it the black Honda? Or the black SUV? Or-

Whatever, doesn’t matter.

Uber drivers always had those tiny stickers on the window, right? Not that she could see them without her glasses.

So, with absolutely no hesitation, Y/N reached for the handle of a random car and slid into the passenger seat like she did this every day. The leather was warm from sitting under the LA heat, the faint scent of something salty and familiar lingering in the air.

She barely had time to register the fact that the driver hadn’t greeted her before she clicked her seatbelt into place and sighed.

"Hey, Uber driver who I don’t know the name of because I don’t have my glasses with me." She said, head lolling slightly to the side as she glanced toward the figure beside her.

Matt Sturniolo was staring at her like he had just witnessed a crime.

His fingers hovered frozen over the fast-food bag in his lap, his wide blue eyes reflecting pure, unfiltered what the actual fuck energy. He didn’t move. He didn’t speak. He just sat there, his grip tightening ever so slightly around a lone onion ring.

Y/N, oblivious to the sheer level of distress she had just caused, frowned at him. Weirdly quiet guy.

Then, without missing a beat, Matt cleared his throat, glanced at his onion ring, and started talking.

"Hey... uh. Do you want an onion ring?"

Y/N blinked at him. Processing.

Then, after too many seconds, she shrugged.

"Sure, why not."

And just like that, she took the onion ring from his fingers - that was already bitten -, popped it into her mouth, and chewed.

The onion ring was good. Like, really good. Crispy, salty, the kind of satisfying crunch that felt almost poetic in the moment. Or maybe that was just her messy taste buds. Either way, Y/N sat there, chewing thoughtfully, completely unfazed by the fact that the guy next to her - her supposed Uber driver - had yet to say much beyond offering her fast food.

She swallowed, then licked a bit of salt off her lip before shifting in her seat. It was only then that she noticed something was... off.

They weren’t moving.

The car was still in park, engine humming softly, headlights illuminating the empty stretch of road ahead.

She furrowed her brows, glancing at him.

"Hey, I’m all good to go!" She announced, clapping her hands together like this was some kind of Uber check-in process. "You can start driving now."

Matt, still mildly stunned and feeling lost, blinked at her. Then, after a pause, he cleared his throat, preparing himself to make her leave his KIA.

"Miss, I'm not-" Matt stopped himself, jaw tensing.

He could think she was insane and reckless all he wanted, but he sure wasn’t about to let a drunk girl figure out how to get home alone. Not in this city. Not when she could barely stand straight without swaying like a damn cartoon character.

He let out a slow exhale, cleaning his dirty fingers on the napkin laying above the car console.

"You know what? What’s the address?"

Oh. Right. Addresses.

Y/N blinked at him, then at her phone, the glowing letters on the screen looking like they were written in an ancient, forbidden language that her brain had no capacity to decipher right now. She squinted hard, her mouth moving in a silent test run before she finally read them aloud, not even realizing that the Uber app would’ve already handled this for her. If he was her Uber driver at all.

Matt just nodded, turning to his GPS and tapping in the location like this was just another casual night.

But just as he finished, a text notification popped up on the screen.

Nick: We’re leaving in 10. U there?

Matt glanced at it for half a second.

And then?

He ignored it.

His fingers hovered over the screen, but instead of bothering to answer, he just drove his attention to the road, shifted gears, and put his car in motion.

The engine hummed smoothly, the low rumble cutting through the quiet night as the car rolled onto the road, the distant echoes of the party fading into the background.

Y/N exhaled dramatically, sinking further into the passenger seat, trying to focus on the soft hum of the car rather than the growing ache in her head.

After a beat, she glanced over at Matt - really looked at him for the first time. His dark shirt, the way his fingers decorated with silver rings drummed lightly on the steering wheel, the faint glow of streetlights casting sharp angles across his bearded face making his features pop in the kind of way that made her want to run a hand through her hair and pretend she wasn’t so clearly out of it.

He was cute. Like, annoyingly cute.

"Are all Ubers that work past midnight this pretty?" She asked, her words dripping with playful sincerity.

Matt’s eyes widened, his grip on the wheel tightening just a little as his mouth opened, and then, realizing he wasn’t choking on anything, he did exactly that, choked on nothing. For a split second, he glanced at her, looking like a deer caught in headlights before snapping his gaze back to the road.

"What?" He asked, his voice going a little higher than usual, almost like a weird, adorable squeak.

Y/N raised her eyebrows, tilting her head like she was explaining the weather.

"I mean, it’s a fair question, right? I feel like this must be an exclusive, midnight-only service you’ve got going here."

Matt’s eyes flicked over to her again, his face a mixture of confusion, shock, and something a lot like embarrassment. He cleared his throat as if it would somehow help him regain some composure, but it only made the situation more awkward, and infinitely more endearing.

"... I... I’m not-" He atarted, though his voice was barely a whisper as he struggled to keep his attention on the road.

"Wait." She interrupted him abruptly, turning fully toward him now, gasping softly. "Are you one of those cool Uber drivers?"

Matt let out a breathy, shocked laugh through his nose, shaking his head with the sudden change of humor.

"What- what do you mean ‘cool Uber driver’?"

"You know." She gestured vaguely. "The ones who let me blast my music and give me free snacks."

Matt hummed, tilting his head in mock consideration.

"I don’t know. What kind of music are we talking?"

Y/N gasped, clutching her chest.

"As if that’s even a question. The best kind, duh."

Matt raised a brow. For him, the best kind was Mac Miller.

"Which is...?"

She grinned, already reaching for his aux cord like it was her car.

"I could tell you, but I’d rather show you."

Matt didn’t stop her. He just exhaled another amused breath through his nose, watching through the corner of his eye as she scrolled furiously through her playlists, her brows furrowing in deep concentration. Then, with a triumphant little hum, she hit play.

The car instantly filled with the unmistakable opening notes of Tik Tok by Kesha.

Matt’s grip on the steering wheel twitched. Y/N, completely unbothered, turned to him with the most serious expression possible.

"This is non-negotiable. You must sing."

Matt scoffed.

"I must?"

"It’s a legally binding agreement the second Kesha starts playing." She said matter-of-factly.

Matt shook his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite himself.

"I don’t think that’s how the law works."

"You think the law has power over Kesha?" She gasped. "Over me?"

Matt laughed. A real laugh this time. Low and warm and easy.

Nick would've loved her.

Y/N, taking this as a win, nodded firmly before dramatically belting out the lyrics, all while drumming her hands against her thighs like this was a full-on concert.

"BEFORE I LEAVE BRUSH MY TEETH WITH A BOTTLE OF JACK-"

Matt winced.

"Jesus Christ."

"- CAUSE WHEN I LEAVE FOR THE NIGHT, I AIN'T COMING BACK!"

Matt, to his credit, didn’t crash the car. He just huffed out another laugh, shaking his head as he reached into the Burger King bag and held out another onion ring.

"Here. Please, for the love of God, chew."

Y/N gasped again, snatching the onion ring dramatically.

"Are you trying to silence me?"

"A little bit."

She narrowed her eyes, biting into it slowly, all while maintaining intense eye contact.

"You fear my talent."

Matt let out a small chuckle, adjusting his grip on the wheel.

"I fear for my eardrums."

Y/N rolled her eyes dramatically, taking another bite of the onion ring. She chewed happily for a few seconds, but then, suddenly, her jaw slowed.

A weird, unsettling feeling rolled through her stomach like a warning siren, and before she could process it, nausea hit her like a wave. Everything inside her flipped, her stomach twisting unpleasantly. She swallowed thickly, her throat tightening, her whole body stilling.

Matt noticed instantly.

"Hey, hey, hey." He said, his voice dipping into something soft, immediately catching onto her discomfort.

His reaction was so quick that before she could even think, he had already taken one hand off the wheel, reaching toward her. His fingers brushed against hers, gently but firmly taking the half-eaten onion ring from her grasp, tossing it effortlessly back into the bag.

And then, without a moment's hesitation, he paused the song and rolled down her window.

The cool night air rushed inside, hitting her face in a gentle, relieving gust, playing with the strands of her hair and making them dance in the wind, cooling down her warm face.

Matt's hand went back to the wheel, but his eyes flicked toward her every couple of seconds.

"You good? Want me to pull over?"

Y/N closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in the fresh air like it was her lifeline. Her fingers gripped the side of the seat, her head tilting slightly toward the breeze, trying to ground herself.

"Ugh, no, no, I'm fine." She muttered, still a little off-balance. "It just hit me weird. I think my stomach was like, 'Oh, cool, fried food after a night of drinking? Let's ruin this bitch'."

Matt huffed a small laugh.

"Yeah, well, if your stomach starts a full-on rebellion, let me know before it declares war all over my car."

"Don't be mean about it, Uber driver."

Y/N’s voice came out small and pouty, her bottom lip jutting out dramatically as she turned toward him, blinking slowly to ward off the dizziness that followed the nausea.

Matt glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, trying so hard not to laugh at the ridiculous, genuinely heartbroken expression on her face.

"I wasn’t being mean-"

"Yes, you were."

"I was just-"

"So mean."

Her voice wobbled just slightly, and suddenly Matt’s stomach dropped.

Oh, shit.

She was about to cry.

Matt had never dealt with a drunk, emotional person before, and definitely not a stranger one. His brain scrambled for literally anything to do, anything at all, before full-on tears started spilling down her cheeks.

"Hey, no. Don't cry, sweetheart."

The second the pet name left his lips, Y/N’s entire demeanor shifted.

Her tears stopped, and her face softened, lips slightly parted, like she had just witnessed a miracle.

"Sweetheart?"

Matt froze.

Oh, fuck.

Matt glanced around, suddenly feeling too warm, his fingers tightening around the steering wheel like it was his lifeline. His heart was pounding, and she was still staring at him, blinking up at him like he had just given her the most precious gift in the world.

And he needed to fix this immediately.

Without another word, he reached for the smart screen, his fingers quickly tapping it to press play on the song he had paused minutes before.

The second the sound of Kesha's voice blasted through the car again, Y/N’s mood did a complete 180°. Her face lit up, eyes widening as if she had just been brought back to life.

"Oh, shit- KESHA!"

And just like that, everything was gone.

The near-tears were gone, the heartbreak about his comment had vanished, and she was singing again, full volume, completely unapologetic, her hands moving wildly as she danced in her seat.

Matt let out a slow breath, his heart still beating too fast.

Between a 2000's song here and drunk comments there about how she ended up taking way too many jello shots with a dude named Brad who refused to say what he actually did for life or how she ended up getting locked in a bathroom because some drunk couple mistook the stall for a VIP lounge, the car slowed, turning onto a familiar street.

Matt glanced at his GPS, then out the window, before finally shifting into park. He reached for the smart screen, lowering the volume to a minimum before looking at her, voice soft.

"Alright, this is you."

Y/N blinked, then turned her head to look outside.

And- oh.

It was her place.

Huh.

For a second, she just... stared at it. The streetlights, the familiar shape of her front door, the welcome mat that she’d impulsively bought months ago because it said "Hot Girls Live Here".

She chewed on her lip, hesitating for half a second before sighing dramatically.

"Welp. Bye bye, mister Uber driver."

Matt hummed, nodding, but didn’t say anything. So she grabbed her purse and reached for the door handle.

The second she swung it open and stepped out, however, the ground tilted.

Okay, not literally, but it sure as hell felt like it. Her legs wobbled, the world spinning ever so slightly, and before she could even blink, a warm hand wrapped around her arm, steadying her.

"Whoa, hey."

Y/N blinked down at him, her vision slightly wobbly, her brain playing catch-up.

Matt was still in his seat, halfway over the center console, one arm stretched out to keep her from completely face-planting onto the pavement. His fingers curled securely around her forearm, firm but careful, like she was a newborn deer that had just taken its first, very questionable, steps.

"Damn, got two left feet there, huh?" He muttered, lips twitching. "You good?"

Y/N laughed way too hard than any sober person would. Like, actual tears in her eyes hard. And then, as if to prove just how not good she was, she swayed again before flopping back onto the seat with a little bounce.

Matt raised a brow, biting back his own chuckle. It wasn’t even a good joke.

Still giggling, Y/N reached out blindly, pressing a palm to his arm.

"You’re so funny."

However, her face falls shortly after, her brows knitting together, laced with a curious gaze as she slides her fingers around his skin in search of the swallows inked onto his whole arm.

Matt tensed slightly, watching her fingertips skate across the ink on his forearm, brushing over lines and shading with gentle curiosity.

"Having fun there?" He wet his lips.

"Yeah." She nodded enthusiastically - too enthusiastically, because a second later, she froze as dizziness smacked into her like a truck for the second time.

Matt swore internally. His skin was heating way too much for a guy who had a fully intoxicated girl petting his arm like it was a damn artifact.

Okay. Time to move.

"Alright!" His voice came out way louder than he intended, and he immediately regretted it. He cleared his throat again, slowly untangling his arm from her grasp. "Stay right there."

And before she could even attempt a protest, he was already moving.

Y/N blinked as she watched him step out, rounding the front of the car in a few easy strides. His shirt riding up slightly, his keys jingling from his belt loop, his hair shifting slightly with the breeze.

And then, suddenly, he was right in front of her.

Without hesitation, he reached for her purse on the ground, slinging it over his own shoulder, and held out a hand.

"C’mon."

Y/N just stared at him. Then at his hand. Then at his very serious expression. Her brain took a moment before her arm finally moved.

The moment Matt’s fingers wrapped around Y/N’s hand, his skin was all she could feel.

His palm was warm, the kind of warmth that felt steadying. But it wasn’t just that. It was smooth, too, except for the slightly rougher patches right at the base of his fingers - the callouses from years of drumming.

Her drunken brain latched onto the detail immediately.

"Oh, wow." She blurted out, squeezing his hand. "Your hands are so soft. Like silk."

Matt blinked, looking at their joined hands for a second before glancing back up at her, his lips twitching.

"First time anyone’s ever told me they feel like silk. I’m flattered."

Y/N hummed dramatically, still holding onto him.

"You should be. It’s a big deal."

Matt let out a small chuckle before giving her fingers a quick, firm squeeze back.

With a giggle, Y/N finally let herself be pulled up, swaying a little too much in the process, but before she could even stumble, Matt moved, gently grabbing her arm, pulling it over his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around her waist.

And wow.

Wow.

He was warm. And solid. And smelled like onion rings and rich cologne and some kind of softness that made her stomach flip in ways she refused to unpack right now.

"Watch your feet."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Matt had no idea what time it was when they finally reached her porch, but it was definitely late. The kind of late that made the streetlights buzz a little louder, the air feel a little colder, and his patience with this drunk, ridiculous girl stretch dangerously thin.

Not that he actually minded.

If anything, it was insanely cute how she was just sitting there now, slumped in the wooden chair like some kind of defeated heroine. Her arms were dangling off the armrests, legs stretched out in front of her, head tilted back dramatically, and mascara forming black trails below her eyes.

Matt sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I said stay still."

Y/N let out a deep, theatrical sigh, still moving her legs like a swing.

"I am still."

Matt exhaled through his nose.

"No, you’re not. You’re-" He gestured vaguely toward her. "You'll fall from there."

She waved a limp hand in his direction.

"Whatever."

Matt groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. He had the idea that trying to argue with a drunk person was a lost cause, so instead of wasting his breath, he turned to the front door.

And then realized the next problem.

She wasn’t going to open it.

Because she was currently treating that wooden chair like it was a swing and she was a kid after school time.

Matt turned back to her, eyebrows raised.

"You got your keys?"

Y/N, still dramatically draped over the chair, gave him a lazy thumbs-up.

"Yup."

Matt stared at her expectantly.

She didn’t move.

Matt sighed.

"Okay. Where?"

Y/N blinked up at him. Then, as if the idea had just occurred to her, she pointed toward the black purse still dangling off his shoulder.

Matt stared at it, then back at her.

"Can I open it?"

Y/N, without even lifting her head, simply flicked her wrist in a dismissive gesture.

Matt huffed out a laugh, shaking his head.

"That’s not an answer."

She made the motion again, this time more dramatic.

Matt rolled his eyes but obeyed, carefully pulling the purse to the front of him and unzipping it. He was quick in the way he searched, making sure not to look too closely at whatever chaos was inside.

Luckily, it didn’t take long.

After just a few seconds, his fingers closed around a set of keys, the keychain a glittery pink monstrosity.

Matt smirked.

Shaking his head, he straightened up and moved to the front door, unlocking it with ease before turning back toward her.

And then came the next problem.

Because the second he reached out to help her stand, he realized just how much of a mess this was about to be.

Y/N, for all her earlier confidence, was absolutely useless on her feet now.

Like, actually useless.

The moment he pulled her up, she practically folded against him, her entire body weight leaning into his chest like she had no bones whatsoever.

"Jesus, dude." Matt barely had time to adjust, his arms scrambling to keep her upright. "You gotta help me here."

Y/N, her cheek now fully pressed against his shoulder, let out a content sigh.

"Mmm, comfy."

Matt let out a silent scream into the night.

This was impossible.

He couldn’t just drag her inside like some kind of caveman, and carrying her? Not happening. He wasn't the weakest, sure, but she was a whole human person.

So, instead, he opted for shuffling.

Painfully.

Slowly.

Awkwardly.

It was a process, but eventually, after what felt like an entire century, he managed to get her through the front door.

And the moment they stepped inside, he was hit with her world.

From the soft, warm lighting to the overflowing bookshelf in the corner to the cozy, mismatched cushions draped over the couch to the little Polaroid pictures stuck to the fridge.

It was lived-in, personal, comforting.

Matt blinked, taking it in for half a second before remembering the deadweight in his arms.

With a final exhale, he maneuvered them toward the big couch, practically collapsing with her as he eased her down, making sure she didn’t just flop like a ragdoll.

Once she was settled, he knelt beside her, hesitating before brushing some stray hair from her eyes.

"You good?"

Y/N, blinking sleepily up at him, nodded.

"Mhm."

Matt sighed, patting her knee.

"You should lay down."

Y/N huffed, but obliged, shifting so she could stretch out across the cushions.

Matt watched her for a second, waiting.

"You comfortable?"

Y/N, eyes half-lidded, gave him a slow, lazy grin.

"I would be more comfortable if you cuddled me, blue eyes."

Matt froze.

Yeah, okay. He should definitely go.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The unforgiving brightness of the sun pierced through Y/N’s closed eyelids, an intrusive, blaring light that made her face scrunch in discomfort.

Weird.

Her room had blackout curtains, ones she had spent way too much money on to ensure that early mornings wouldn’t include the added torture of daylight exposure.

Her brows knit together, confusion settling in before she even opened her eyes.

And then, slowly, she did.

Only to be met with the wrong ceiling.

Y/N blinked, her brain sluggishly catching up to the fact that this was not her bedroom.

Then, she registered other things; her body feeling heavy under too many layers of clothes, the sticky sensation of dried makeup clinging to her skin, and, worst of all, the absolute tragedy happening inside her mouth.

She groaned, twisting her face in pure disgust. It tasted like something had died on her tongue, and she vaguely remembered drinking... tequila? And maybe some kind of mystery cocktail that some random stranger shoved at her, saying it was a "game changer".

A game changer in what? Making her suffer?

Y/N sat up, immediately regretting it as a sharp, pounding pain erupted behind her eyes. Jesus Christ.

She squeezed her eyes shut, hands pressing against her temples in an attempt to soothe the pain, but nothing helped. It was the kind of deep, bone-vibrating headache that made every movement feel like an earthquake inside her skull.

After a minute - or maybe five - she finally forced herself to function.

She opened her eyes again, and this time, she really looked around.

Oh.

She was in her living room.

The TV. The coffee table. The faint scent of her vanilla-scented candle that had long since burned out.

Right.

Her mind buzzed, trying to connect the blurry pieces of last night.

The party. The drinks. The decision to go home.

And then... the Uber driver.

Y/N frowned, blinking slowly.

Her eyes drifted downward, and that’s when she noticed the glass of water and the bottle of painkillers sitting neatly on the table.

Her brows lifted in surprise.

Wow.

So, not only did the Uber driver make sure she got home safely, but he also took care of her after the fact?

Because she knows her drunk version, and she couldn't even sit straight.

That was... suspiciously thoughtful.

Y/N shrugged to herself, grabbing the glass and the medicine without question, tossing the pill against her tongue and gulping down the water like her life depended on it. And, honestly? It kind of did. The cool liquid washed away the awful taste in her mouth, making her sigh in relief.

And then-

BRRRRRRING.

Y/N flinched, eyes snapping toward the sudden noise.

Her phone.

Where the hell was it?

She groaned, rummaging around the blanket that was still wrapped around her before realizing. Her purse.

She reached over, dragging it toward herself, and as soon as she dug inside, her fingers wrapped around her phone.

She unlocked it immediately, her eyebrows furrowing as she scanned the recent notifications.

And that’s when she saw it.

A string of messages from her Uber app.

Her actual Uber driver.

UBER: Your driver has arrived.

UBER: Your driver is waiting.

UBER: Your driver is still waiting.

UBER: Your driver will be leaving soon.

UBER: Your driver has canceled your ride.

Oh.

Her brain stuttered, slowly putting the pieces together.

So... she didn’t get into her Uber last night.

She left the poor guy stranded outside the party, probably cursing her existence, while she happily hopped into some random car.

Shit.

Y/N blinked down at her screen, processing the absolute chaos of her life choices when something caught her eye.

A small, folded note - clearly from her very much old notebook above her TV table - sitting neatly beside her purse, right below her hands.

Her brows lifted again.

She reached for it, flipping it open while glancing back at her phone, her brain still half-focused on her Uber driver’s angry messages.

And then, as she read the words, her heart did a weird little thing in her chest.

"Call me whenever you need a cool Uber driver again. Or, y’know, if you just wanna talk."

- Matt

Y/N stared at the note.

Then back at her phone.

Then back at the note.

And finally, it clicked.

She hadn’t just gotten into a random car last night.

She had gotten into a random guy’s car.

A very cute, very cool random guy’s car.

And instead of kidnapping her or doing something worse, he drove her home, tucked her in, left her water and medicine, and even gave her his number?

Y/N stared at the note for a long second, brain short-circuiting.

Then, she let out a laugh - soft and disbelieving - before grinning to herself.

Well.

This was definitely going to be interesting.

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