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leahrintarou · 10 days

Note

Hi there! How are you? I love your works and I wanted to request a Dabi or Hawks x Reader NSFW oneshot please? Also could you have the font not too small? It’s just I can’t read anything in small fonts.

✩₊˚.⋆ BESTFRIEND'S BROTHER - dabi/touya todoroki

CW: unprotected sex, oral (dabi receives), soft/hard! dom dabi, female reader with female anatomy, fingering, a lot of sexual tension, makeout sesh, stimulation & penetration, uhh...thats it lol

Word Count: 6.2k (no regrets tbh lmao)

Author's Note: hi! i hope you enjoy. this ended up being WAY longer than expected. if you have a request, send it in and i'll be happy to write it!

the weekend at y/n's best friend's house always felt like an escape from her regular life. it wasn’t just the familiar sound of the tv in the background or the scent of home-cooked meals—it was being part of a family that felt like a second home. she dropped her bag by the couch and took a deep breath, already feeling more relaxed.

"glad you're here," fuyumi grinned, flopping onto the couch with her usual laid-back energy. "this weekend’s going to be awesome. we’ve got a full fridge and no one’s gonna bother us."

y/n laughed, sinking into the chair across from her. "just like old times," she said, already feeling the comfort of the place sink in.

"yeah," fuyumi replied, glancing toward the stairs. "oh, heads up—my brother’s back from college. so, if you run into him, don’t let him get on your nerves, okay?"

y/n shrugged casually, though the mention of touya made her stomach flip just a bit. there was something about him—he had this quiet, brooding presence that always made her feel a little uneasy. not in a bad way, just… aware of him. "touya? he’s cool. no big deal."

fuyumi snorted. "alright, just don’t let him pull any of his usual stunts."

the day passed easily enough—video games, snacks, and laughter filling the hours. but as night fell and the house grew quieter, fuyumi went upstairs to sleep, leaving y/n alone in the living room. she was flipping through channels, trying to wind down, when she heard footsteps approaching. looking up, she saw touya standing in the doorway, hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable.

"still up?" he asked, his voice low and casual.

y/n sat up a bit, startled by his sudden appearance. "yeah, couldn’t sleep," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady.

touya stepped into the room, moving with that easy, quiet confidence he always had. he sat down on the couch next to her, but not too close—just enough that his presence was noticeable. the air between them felt heavier, but not uncomfortable.

"how’s college going?" he asked, glancing at her briefly before looking at the tv. his tone was neutral, like he was making small talk out of habit.

"good," y/n replied, shifting to a more comfortable position. "busy, but good."

touya nodded, leaning back slightly. "yeah, i figured. you seem different, though. not as jumpy as you used to be."

y/n blinked, caught off guard by his observation. "i was never jumpy," she said, though her voice lacked confidence. she couldn’t deny there had been times when just being around him had made her feel awkward, but that had been years ago, right?

touya smirked, giving her a sideways glance. "sure you weren’t."

y/n rolled her eyes, leaning back into the couch and crossing her arms. "okay, maybe a little, but you’ve always had this weird, intimidating vibe, dude."

he raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "weird and intimidating? great combo," he said, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly in a teasing grin. "yeah, well, you’re not that scary once you get used to it," y/n shot back, feeling more comfortable as their banter eased the tension in the room.

"good to know i’ve lost my edge," he said, his tone light but laced with that usual dryness of his.

the room fell into a quiet lull after that, but it wasn’t the kind of silence that felt awkward. y/n found herself more at ease, the earlier tension slipping away the longer they sat there. she flicked through the channels aimlessly, her focus split between the tv and touya’s quiet presence beside her.

"you come here a lot," he said after a moment, not looking at her this time.

"well, fuyumi’s my best friend," y/n replied easily. "this place feels like a second home."

touya gave a soft hum of acknowledgment but didn’t say anything else. he seemed to be considering her words, his eyes fixed on some distant point on the tv screen. y/n let the silence hang, not sure what else to say, and for once, it seemed like touya didn’t either.

eventually, he stretched and stood up, breaking the quiet between them. "anyway, i should head to bed," he said, running a hand through his hair. "goodnight, y/n."

"night," she replied, watching as he moved toward the stairs.

he paused in the doorway, glancing back at her with a smirk that she couldn’t quite place. "oh, and y/n?" his voice was casual, but there was a glint of something mischievous in his eyes.

"yeah?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

he leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. "i’m just curious. you sure fuyumi’s the only reason you come around here so much?" his tone was light, almost teasing, but there was an edge to it that made her heart skip a beat.

y/n blinked, caught off guard. "what’s that supposed to mean?" she asked, narrowing her eyes. she tried to play it cool, but she could feel her face heating up just a little.

touya shrugged, his smirk deepening. "nothing, just wondering. you’ve been coming here for years—figured maybe there’s more to it."

"dude, seriously?" she huffed, rolling her eyes. "it’s for fuyumi. don’t flatter yourself."

he chuckled softly, clearly enjoying her reaction. "alright, alright. just asking," he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. "goodnight, y/n."

"goodnight," she shot back, watching as he finally disappeared up the stairs, leaving her sitting there, heart racing a little faster than she’d like to admit.

even though she knew he was just messing with her, the question lingered in her mind longer than she expected. he was teasing, sure—but it felt like he wasn’t completely guessing either. the thought made her stomach flip, but she shook it off, trying to convince herself it was nothing.

turning off the tv, y/n headed to bed, telling herself she wouldn’t overthink it. but as she lay there in the quiet house, she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something between them had shifted, even if just a little.

---

"we'll be back later tonight, y/n!" fuyumi said as she gave y/n a quick hug. she was currently going to some kind of convention with her younger brother shoto. y/n insisted that it be just the two of them go for some bonding time and fuyumi honestly appreciated her consideration.

"yeah, be safe." y/n smiled and fuyumi's closed the door after following behind shoto. y/n went to the kitchen to wash up the dishes. afterall, she'd just finished eating lunch with fuyumi. she was lost in her own thoughts until she felt a presence just behind her, making her jump slightly.

“you always zone out like that?” touya’s voice came from directly behind her, teasing and low, startling her out of her thoughts.

y/n spun around quickly, clutching the dish towel a little tighter than necessary. “geez, touya, you scared me!” she said, trying to calm her racing heart. he had this way of sneaking up on her when she least expected it.

touya leaned against the counter, his usual smirk tugging at his lips. “didn’t mean to. just seems like you’re always deep in thought when you’re alone.” his eyes flicked down to the dish towel in her hands, and he raised an eyebrow. “you didn’t have to do the dishes, you know. we’re not that formal.”

y/n shrugged, turning back to the sink to finish rinsing the last plate. “just trying to be helpful. figured fuyumi would appreciate it.”

he made a small noise of acknowledgment but didn’t move from his spot. she could feel his gaze on her as she dried her hands, the air between them once again filled with that same quiet tension from the night before. but there was something different about it this time—something that made her more aware of his presence, more aware of the way he stood just a little too close.

“so,” he started, his tone casual but carrying an undercurrent of curiosity, “what are you doing today? since you’ve got the place to yourself.”

y/n turned to face him, leaning against the counter opposite him. “not sure yet. maybe just relax, watch some movies. it’s kind of nice having some quiet time.”

touya tilted his head slightly, his eyes never leaving hers. “and you don’t mind being here alone? in my house?” the way he said it, so casual yet laced with something almost playful, sent a small shiver down her spine.

“it’s fuyumi’s house too,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “besides, i’m used to it by now.”

he chuckled softly, the sound low and a little rough. “fair enough. but still... feels different when it’s just us, doesn’t it?”

y/n blinked, not sure how to respond to that. the way he looked at her, so direct, so unapologetically confident, made her feel like he was pulling at something she wasn’t ready to confront.

“you’re... really good at making things awkward, you know that?” she finally said, crossing her arms and trying to play it off with a laugh.

touya’s smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “oh, am i? didn’t realize i had that effect on you.” his voice dropped slightly on the last word, and y/n felt her cheeks heat up.

“that’s not—ugh, never mind,” she muttered, turning to put away the towel, hoping he didn’t notice her flustered reaction. but of course, he did.

he pushed off the counter and stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate. “relax, i’m just messing with you,” he said softly, his voice a little too close to her ear. “but you’re kind of fun to tease, you know.”

y/n shot him a glare, though it lacked any real heat. “yeah, well, don’t get used to it,” she said, her heart beating faster than she would’ve liked. there was something about the way he was acting today—something that felt more intentional, more focused, like he was testing the waters.

“we’ll see,” touya murmured, stepping back finally, giving her some space. “anyway, enjoy your quiet day,” he added, turning toward the stairs. but before he left the kitchen, he paused, glancing over his shoulder with that same unreadable look from last night. “and y/n... if you get bored, you know where to find me.”

she rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile from tugging at her lips. “yeah, yeah. don’t hold your breath.”

touya chuckled and disappeared up the stairs, leaving her standing there, a mix of confusion and something else swirling in her chest. it was just touya being touya, right? always teasing, always pushing buttons. but for some reason, it felt like there was more to it now, like he was waiting for her to react in a way she wasn’t ready for.

shaking her head, y/n tried to brush it off and went back to cleaning up the kitchen. but even as she went through the motions, her mind kept drifting back to touya’s words, to the way he looked at her, and to the strange feeling that maybe—just maybe—he was right. something between them had shifted, and she wasn’t sure if she was ready to face what that meant.

---

after an hour of flipping through channels and trying to distract herself, y/n finally gave in to the boredom that had been creeping up on her. she glanced at the empty living room, then up toward the stairs where touya had disappeared. she really didn’t want to admit it, but the house felt too quiet without fuyumi around, and—whether she liked it or not—touya was the only other person here.

with a resigned sigh, she pushed herself off the couch and made her way upstairs, her footsteps feeling louder than usual on the wooden steps. as she reached the top, she hesitated for a moment before knocking lightly on touya’s door.

“what?” his voice came through the door, sounding both mildly irritated and amused at the same time.

y/n rolled her eyes and pushed the door open slightly. “i’m bored. you wanna watch a movie or something?”

touya, who was lying on his bed with his phone in hand, glanced up at her, one eyebrow raised. “you’re that bored, huh?” he said, smirking as he sat up.

“yeah, well, you’re the only one here,” she shot back, leaning against the doorframe. “so, you in or not?”

he stretched lazily, then stood up, his smirk still firmly in place. “sure, but let’s watch it in here. i’ve got a better tv.” he motioned toward the flat screen mounted on his wall.

y/n hesitated. watching a movie in his room felt... different. more personal. but before she could think too much about it, touya had already grabbed the remote and flopped back onto his bed, patting the space beside him. “come on, i don’t bite. unless you ask nicely,” he added with a teasing grin.

she rolled her eyes again but walked in, sitting down on the edge of the bed, trying to keep some distance between them. “just pick something,” she said, crossing her arms in a show of nonchalance.

touya scrolled through the movie options, his gaze flicking toward her every now and then, clearly enjoying the way she was trying to act casual. “how about a horror movie?” he suggested, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “you know, something to get your heart racing.”

y/n shot him a look. “if you think i’m gonna get scared and cling to you, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“who said anything about clinging?” he smirked, selecting a movie without waiting for her answer. the opening scene flickered onto the screen, the eerie music setting the tone.

they watched in silence for a while, but y/n couldn’t ignore the tension building in the room. she was hyper-aware of touya’s presence next to her—the heat from his body, the way he stretched out comfortably while she sat stiffly on the edge of the bed, trying to act unaffected. every now and then, she’d glance at him out of the corner of her eye, catching the faint smirk that never seemed to leave his lips.

about halfway through the movie, during a particularly quiet scene, touya shifted closer, his arm brushing lightly against hers. y/n tensed up, her heart picking up speed despite her best efforts to keep her cool.

“you okay there?” touya asked, his voice low, teasing. “you seem a little... jumpy.”

y/n scoffed, trying to play it off. “i’m fine.”

but then, his hand moved—slowly, deliberately—and rested on her knee. the touch was casual, almost innocent, but it sent a spark through her that she couldn’t quite ignore. she swallowed hard, focusing on the screen, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her react.

“you sure about that?” touya asked, his voice soft and almost mocking. his fingers brushed lightly against her knee, a barely-there touch that felt far more intimate than it should have.

y/n bit her lip, her heart racing now. she couldn’t tell if he was doing it on purpose or if he was just messing with her, but either way, it was working. she could feel her composure slipping, her breath coming just a little faster.

“you’re... annoying,” she muttered, trying to sound unaffected.

touya chuckled softly, his hand still resting on her knee. “am i? or are you just bad at hiding how flustered you get around me?”

her eyes snapped to his, and she saw the challenge in his gaze, the way he was watching her closely, waiting for her reaction. he was pushing her buttons, testing her limits, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep pretending it wasn’t getting to her.

“i’m not flustered,” she shot back, her voice a little too defensive.

“sure you’re not,” he murmured, his thumb brushing ever so lightly over her skin now, the sensation sending a shiver up her spine.

y/n clenched her fists, determined not to let him see how much he was affecting her. “you’re ridiculous,” she muttered, turning her attention back to the screen, though she couldn’t focus on the movie anymore.

touya leaned in closer, his breath warm against her ear. “maybe. but you’re not moving away, are you?”

her breath hitched slightly, and she cursed herself for not pulling away earlier. he was right—she hadn’t moved, hadn’t told him to stop. and now, with him this close, his touch lingering, it was harder to remember why she hadn’t.

“i—” she started, but the words caught in her throat as his hand slid up just a little higher, resting on her thigh now, his fingers curling slightly against her skin.

the tension between them was almost unbearable, the air thick with something unspoken, something that felt like it had been building for a while now. y/n’s mind raced, torn between the urge to push him away and the undeniable pull that kept her frozen in place, her pulse quickening with every second that passed.

“still think i’m annoying?” touya’s voice was barely above a whisper now, his lips dangerously close to her ear, the teasing edge in his tone softened by something else—something darker, more serious.

y/n swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. “yes,” she whispered back, though the word came out shaky, betraying her.

touya chuckled, his hand squeezing her thigh gently before finally pulling away, leaving her skin tingling in the absence of his touch. he leaned back against the pillows, his smirk firmly in place, but there was a new intensity in his eyes, one that made her stomach twist in ways she wasn’t ready to admit.

“you’re fun, y/n,” he said, his voice casual again, though the tension in the room hadn’t fully dissipated. “but you’re not as good at hiding things as you think you are.”

y/n exhaled slowly, trying to steady herself. “shut up,” she muttered, but there was no real bite to her words.

he laughed softly, turning his attention back to the movie, but y/n could still feel the weight of his gaze, the unspoken challenge lingering in the air between them. whatever game they were playing, she wasn’t sure if she was winning—or if she even wanted to.

as the movie continued to play, the room felt heavier, thick with unspoken tension. y/n tried to focus on the screen, but her mind kept drifting back to the way touya's hand had felt on her thigh, the lingering warmth of his touch making it hard to think straight.

he didn't say anything for a while, content to watch the movie-or at least, that's what it seemed like. but y/n could feel him stealing glances at her, could sense the quiet anticipation in the air. it was as if they were both waiting for the other to make the next move, teetering on the edge of something neither of them could ignore any longer.

her heart raced as she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, catching the way his smirk had softened into something less teasing, more serious. his eyes weren't on the tv anymore- they were on her, and the intensity in his gaze sent a shiver down her spine.

"you're really not into this movie, are you?" touya's voice cut through the quiet, low and knowing.

y/n huffed, shifting in place. "i'm watching," she insisted, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her. she could feel the tension growing with each passing second, her pulse quickening as the weight of his stare made her hyper-aware of the space between them.

or rather, the lack of space.

"really?" touya's tone was teasing again, but there was something deeper in it now-something more focused, more deliberate. "cause it seems like you're a little... distracted."

y/n's breath hitched as he shifted closer, his knee brushing against hers now. she could feel the heat radiating off him, the pull between them growing stronger with every second.

"maybe it's you who's distracting," she shot back, her voice steadier than she expected, but she couldn't bring herself to look at him. not yet. not when her heart was pounding this fast.

touya chuckled, the sound low and rough, and she could feel the way it vibrated through her. "you think so?"

finally, she turned to face him, and the moment their eyes met, it was like the air was sucked out of the room. the teasing smirk on his face had faded, replaced by something darker, something she wasn't sure she could resist any longer. his gaze dropped briefly to her lips, then back to her eyes, the silent question clear.

she swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. "what are you doing, touya?"

"what do you think i'm doing?" he murmured, his voice softer now, but laced with a kind of confidence that made her stomach twist in ways she couldn't ignore. his hand reached up, fingers brushing lightly against her cheek, the touch so soft it sent a shiver down her spine.

y/n's breath caught in her throat, her mind racing. she knew where this was headed, knew that if she didn't stop it now, there'd be no going back. but the more she thought about it, the less she wanted to stop. the pull between them was too strong, the tension too thick, and it felt like they'd been building to this moment for longer than either of them wanted to admit.

"touya..." she whispered, but the protest in her voice was weak, barely there.

he didn't say anything, just leaned in a little closer, his thumb brushing against her lower lip, making her breath hitch again. his eyes were locked on hers, and in that moment, everything else faded away-the movie, the room, the fact that this was fuyumi's house. all that mattered was him, and the way he was looking at her, like he was daring her to close the distance.

and then, without thinking, she did.

it was like something snapped inside her, all the tension that had been building between them finally breaking free. her hand reached up, fingers curling into his shirt as she pulled him toward her, their lips crashing together in a kiss that was more desperate than she'd expected.

touya responded instantly, his arms wrapping around her as he deepened the kiss, pulling her closer. his lips were warm, firm, moving against hers with a kind of urgency that matched the wild thrum of her pulse. she could feel the heat of him.

y/n gasped as his teeth grazed her lower lip, sending a jolt of electricity through her, and touya took the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth, the kiss growing hotter, more intense. her mind was spinning, her heart racing, and she could barely think straight-only feel the way his body pressed against hers, the way his hands roamed up her back, pulling her impossibly closer.

she wasn't sure how long they kissed- time seemed to blur, the movie forgotten in the background. all that mattered was the heat between them, the way his lips felt against hers, the way his hands gripped her waist like he didn't want to let go.

eventually, they pulled apart, both of them breathing heavily, their foreheads resting together as they tried to catch their breath. y/n's mind was racing, her lips tingling, and she couldn't quite believe what had just happened.

"you-" she started, her voice shaky, but touya cut her off with a soft, breathless laugh.

"you started it," he teased, though his voice was husky, his breath warm against her cheek.

y/n rolled her eyes."shut up," she muttered, though there was no heat behind it.

touya's grin widened, his fingers brushing against her cheek again, softer this time. "you don't want me to," he said, his voice low and teasing, but there was something softer in his gaze now-something that made her heart skip a beat. "and you know that."

she didn't respond, just leaned in and kissed him again, slower this time, savoring the way his lips felt against hers. because as much as she wanted to pretend this was just a fluke, something told her that whatever had just started between them wasn't going to end anytime soon.

as their slow kiss deepened, the tension between y/n and touya became almost unbearable. every touch, every brush of their lips seemed to pull them closer, the heat building between them in a way that felt impossible to ignore. y/n’s hands instinctively gripped the fabric of his shirt, pulling him toward her with more urgency as the kiss grew hungrier, more desperate. touya responded in kind, his grip tightening on her waist, his hands sliding down to her hips as he pulled her flush against him.

the soft, teasing touches from before had given way to something far more intense, more primal, and y/n could feel the shift between them. the air was thick with unspoken desire, and with every kiss, every touch, it became harder to think clearly, harder to hold back.

touya broke the kiss just long enough to murmur against her lips, his voice rough with barely contained need. "you’re driving me insane, sweetheart. if you’re having second thoughts, say it now—or else I’m gonna assume that you actually hate me." there was a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, like he was giving her one last chance to stop, but the way his hands gripped her hips told her that he wanted this just as much as she did.

y/n’s breath was shaky as she looked up at him, her pulse racing in her ears. the question hung in the air, and for a moment, she considered pulling back, considered the implications of where this was heading. but the moment she met his gaze, filled with desire and something deeper, she knew that there was no going back now—not with the way her body responded to him, not with the way her heart raced every time he touched her.

instead of answering with words, y/n kissed him again, harder this time, her hands slipping up to tangle in his hair as she pressed herself against him. it was all the confirmation he needed.

touya groaned softly into the kiss, his hands sliding from her hips to her waist, pulling her closer as he shifted, guiding her onto his lap. the feeling of being so close to him, straddling him as his hands roamed up her back, sent a thrill through her that made her shiver. she could feel the heat radiating from him, the growing intensity of his touch as he explored her body with a newfound sense of urgency.

his lips moved to her neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along her skin, and y/n couldn’t suppress the soft moan that escaped her. her body was reacting to him in ways she hadn’t expected, and the way his hands gripped her thighs, kneading the flesh through the fabric of her bottoms, only made her want more.

“touya…” she breathed, her voice shaky as his lips continued their assault on her neck, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her. she felt his teeth graze her skin, not quite biting but enough to make her moan again, her body arching against him instinctively. "please..." she practically whined when he only continued to tease her.

she felt the strain of the tented area just beneath her sex. she took advantage of this, forcefully grinding down against him and touya let out a strained moan. "watch it, y/n." he warned, his teeth closing to pinch an area of the skin on her neck. she ignored his words, doing it once more, making him draw back with a deep moan.

touya removed his hand from y/n's waist, his digits firmly grasping her throat. "what did fuck did i just tell you, angel?" he mutters through a heavy breath. she allowed a smile to appear onto her lips. he needed her just as much, but he was dead-set on getting y/n to corrupt before him. he pulled away from her, holding her gaze for a long second.

lust.

the two we're the epitome of that very word. "let's see if that quick mouth of yours is only good for talking shit." touya released y/n from his grip and she slid her straddling position further down to his thighs. he used his hand to gently grasp her nape as she made quick movements to pull down his sweatpants and breifs. she was met with his teased and desperately hard length.

she looked up at him, holding his gaze as her tongue lapped up the leaking pre-cum. touya let out a breathless moan at the warm pleasure to the sensetive area. his grip on her nape tightened when her lips clasped around him, lowering her head as she gradually took in more of his length. she let her jaw relax and shut her eyes tightly as she tried to focus on taking in as much as she could.

"f-fuck." touya moaned, his bottom lip catching between his teeth as he fought to hold his composure. "more." he moaned, breath hitching in his throat when y/n lifted her head before the tip of her nose met with his lower abdomen once again. y/n continued this motion, only stopping to take a deep breath. touya held y/n's nape, not allowing her back up. she reached for his hand, interlocking his fingers with his own. she tried her best to hold out for a few more seconds and finally gave his hand three squeezes. touya imeedietly released her and she came up with a gasp, glaring at him.

"good job, angel." he smiled, eyes focused on her reddened lips. when touya's eyes flickered back up to her own, he saw the small frown on her lips. "don't be like that. I'll let you fuck me, but i tell you what to do." he leaned closer to her, placing his lips against hers. "remember that." he watched as y/n rolled her eyes, making him let out a small laugh.

"say's who?" y/n questioned, allowing touya's fingers to trail just beneath the hem of her shirt. his fingers were warm against her even warmer skin, causing her to shudder slightly. "who do you think?"

"what makes you so confident touya?" it was a genuine question on y/n's part. every action he made was never hesitated and neither were his words. "because you haven't stopped me," he says, fingers trailing just beneath the waistband of both layers of clothing. "not even when i do this." two pads of touya’s digits pressed against her bud, massaging the area as y/n leaned into his touch and pressed her forehead against his shoulder.

she let out a moan of his name and touya pressed his lips against the shell of her ear. "if you don't tell me exactly what you want, angel -- i cant give it to you." touya continue and y/n wrapped her fist around his wrist. she whined, head feeling foggy from the pure feeling of bliss and pleasure. she used a free hand to wrap around touya’s length but he held her hand, stopping her from doing anything.

"you can have me, sweetheart, but you gotta come first."

that only drove y/n to grind herself against his fingers. touya was amused by how desperate she was becoming. he was desperate himself, but he'd hold out for however long it took if it meant getting to see y/n fall apart just from his touch.

as she continued, her moans heightened and her breath quickened, making touya pull his fingers away. "touya, are you trying to kill me?" she groaned. "now why would i ever want that?" the smirk on his lips made y/n feel more vulnerable than before. she needed him and they both knew that. "let me make you feel good." y/n nodded to his words with pleading eyes and lifted herself up a bit to remove her restricting layers of clothing.

y/n let out a small cry at the new sensation of him being inside of her. she was hesitant to relax and let herself take in the rest of him. touya reached for her hands, interlocking his fingers in-between her own. "relax, you can take it. i know you can." while it seemed that he was trying to comfort her, his tone said otherwise.

it was taunting-- teasing even. like he was daring her to do so. like he wanted to prove that he would always be above her when it came to this unspoken competition thats been the blueprint of their relationship since the first time they met. she did just that.

touya let out a sigh of satisfaction at the engulfed warmth against him. his strokes were tedious and slow. with every one, the smile on his lips grew wider since y/n's was completely unraveling beneath his touch. he attempted to control his breaths, but if he was being honest with himself, he could topple over the edge given the right movement.

he swore to himself that he wouldn't let that happen. not until he got y/n to finish first. that task was incredibly easy since the minute he pulled her down to him to give her a long and lustful kiss, y/n bit down on his bottom lip due to the pleasure. the change in positioning allowed touya to reach that spot that never failed to make her entire being weak.

"touya.." she drew out a long whine. he hummed, adjusting for her to face him. she held his gaze as he spoke. "words, n/n." he said, waiting for her to reply. she only let out a small whimper at the lack of pleasure. "what? you goin' dumb on me?" he teased, making her gare. she shook her head, not even caring how weak she looked when it came to he and his words.

"tell me what you want. fuyumi might be coming back soon. i can't give you what you want if she's here and able to hear her bestfriend losing her mind over-"

"shut up, touya." y/n groaned. "make me come. that's what i want. is that good enough for you?" she finally spoke. he analyzed her features, her eyes welled with a coat of tears. "please." her voice barely louder than a whisper.

he didn't bother to reply and only gave her what she wanted. what he wanted as well. but she could never know that, could she? pleasure-filled noises filled the room, the heat of their bodies fueling them all the more. touya held y/n close to his chest as she took one of her hands from his own to ball his shirt into her fist. anything to ground herself to reality. he was pushing her over the edge physically and mentally. call it a sick game of his, it was being enjoyed by the both of them.

the sounds bouncing off of the walls being proof of that.

his toungue dragged over her neck as the warmth in her abdomen heated. the sensation riveting in her core caused the tightening coil to finally snap. y/n cried out and touya gripped her hips tightly as she clenched down on him. "y/n." he groaned at the action. he quickly lifted her from his length despite her reluctance and pleas. he replaced the void with his fingers, shutting her up and helping her riding out her high as she grinded her bud against his palm. she moaned, eyes shut tightly.

as she finally began to settle from her high, she was about to let herself relax, but touya spoke. "that's selfish of you, y/n. besides, don't you think you deserve what you worked so hard for?" his hand was wrapped around his length. y/n wanted to say no. damage his high ego even if it was just a small amount. yet, she couldn’t.

his expanded pupils met with her own as his eyelids were low, capturing every movement she made, including the one where she used up the last bit of her energy to lean down to his lap and once again taking in the current most sensetive part of his entire being. he mumbled small praises to y/n as she pleased him. she let out a hum around him when his hand firmly gripped her nape to pull her off of him.

"y/n, i'm gonna come." he warned. like mentioned before, the blueprint of their relationship was some sort of competition, so when touya couldn't physically stop his body from going over the edge, the warmth of his arousal spouting from the tip of his length and meeting y/n's tongue just before she swallowed, he knew that he no longer was above y/n. they were even once again and y/n knew that. infact, it was her goal.

she released him, chest heaving after holding her breath for such a long period of time. she used the back of her hand to wipe away the remains of his come that had made its way to the corner of her lips. "can't let me have anything can you?" touya rolled his eyes, pulling y/n towards him.

she couldn’t even have control over her weakened body as her head met with his warm chest.

"you can't tell fuyumi about this, touya." y/n said, now serious as they both began to settle down from the adrenaline endorsed moment.

"why would i spoil the fun, angel? I'd love to see how long you can keep your cool."

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imagine-darksiders · 2 months

Text

Transformers Prime: Optimus + Reader. Chapter 1.

So, I read @lovinglonerhybrid 's post here. And it absolutely had me in a chokehold, so this is based off that premise. I'm in the UK so please excuse my ignorance of American states lmao.

So, there is a part 2 to this, but I'm going away for 4 days and wanted to get some of it posted before then.

You've broken down fifteen miles short of Jasper's city limits in the dead of night. Deciding to hike in to town, you feel the earth rumble beneath you, and over the horizon, something enormous approaches...

Chapter 1: 9352 words.

-------

It’s a rare and covetous thing, to find even a single moment of peace in the midst of an intergalactic war.

The gap from one of those precious moments to the next seems to grow wider and wider every time, until their frequency is so negligible, it becomes hard to recognise them for what they are anymore.

For everything Earth could have offered Optimus Prime, he hadn’t been expecting it to relinquish the gift of peace so willingly. But he’s glad – more than glad – to accept them when they come, even if he’s only stealing glimpses of tranquillity on the sand-swept road leading out of Jasper.

Low-beam headlights lazily trace over the faded tarmac ahead of Optimus’s tyres as he trundles along Highway 49, one of only two roads that surround the small, sleepy city of Jasper. It’s a very routine patrol, one he obligingly excused Bumblebee from taking after his poor scout all but begged Optimus to give it to someone else, beeping out promises that he’ll take double shift tomorrow night, if need be.

All this on the back of Miko announcing another of her ‘slumber parties’ at the base, much to Ratchet’s noisy chagrin and Optimus’s private amusement. And, of course, when Bumblebee found out that Rafael would be staying the night too… Well…

‘You’re too indulging,’ their old medic had admonished from his workstation, the broad expanse of his back turned to the Prime, ‘He ought to learn he can’t always have his way.’

But it was a harmless indulgence, and Prime was more than happy to take over the patrol in this instance.

Besides, he had an arguably selfish reason for doing so.

If he’d admitted as much out loud, Ratchet would have scoffed and sent a pulse of chiding dismissal crashing into Optimus’s EM field. ‘You don’t have a selfish component in your body,’ he might say.

But this… Optimus muses, gazing skyward as he trundles down the highway in vehicle mode, letting the crisp, night air slide through his grill and cool his powerful engine… This is the appeal of a solo patrol.

Every now and then, there are times when the Decepticon activity goes quiet, Fowler has nothing to report, and Optimus can almost pretend that he’s just another Cybertronian enjoying a long, quiet drive through the Mojave wilderness. And while he remains ever vigilant, keeping every sensor poised outwardly in a constant surveillance of his surroundings, the old bot still permits at least one sense to wander.

Somehow, it’s always his sight.

Oftentimes he catches himself doing it. Other times, on nights that are quiet and still and clear like this one, there’s a wire-deep longing that overrides his logic gates, and the Prime won’t notice that he isn’t keeping his processor and his optics on the dusty road ahead of him. He’s too busy stealing long, pensive looks at the stars above him, scattered like a-hundred-billion souls sprawling across a curtain of crushed velvet.

It’s out there… somewhere… riding a lonely orbit on the furthest reaches of the galaxy’s Centaurus arm.

Cybertron.

Home.

Their first home, he amends gently, depressing his accelerator to speed up when he realises he’s starting to crawl. Earth is as much their home now as Cybertron ever was.

Sagging on his suspension with a low hiss, Optimus drags his hidden optics back to the road ahead, and all at once, he nearly lurches to a halt, his exhaust pipes sputtering out a hollow sound to betray his surprise.

There, parked several feet from the road a few hundred yards ahead of him, is a vehicle.

Prime’s senses sharpen to a startling focus.

Pumping his brakes, he slows down again, and the roar of his engine fades to a fluctuating hum.

A Decepticon…?

He doesn’t feel anything trying to breach his EM field, nor does he pick up on any resistance when his scanners hone in on the vehicle – ‘Ford. F250. A Pickup truck.’ Year….? Optimus’s focus narrows to a pinprick… ‘Eighty-seven.’

It’s red - a faded, dusky red like some of the sun-baked sandstone at Red Rock Canyon. As Prime’s massive form rumbles on through the night, looming closer and closer to the mysterious truck, his lights reflect off something situated above its rear bumper, the presence of which quells his flaring codes and eases his rigid frame.

A number plate.

Thick, black numbers and letters stand out against the white rectangle, though it isn’t the sequence that alleviates Optimus’s suspicion, it’s their mere presence.

No Decepticon he knows would ever suffer the ‘indignity’ of having a human number plate stapled to their bumpers.

Primus, even the Autobots have foregone the accessory after Fowler gave up trying to keep Bumblebee from losing his, Ratchet from ‘misplacing’ his, and Bulkhead from bending his irreparably whenever he transformed. Optimus had given it a go, for a time… mainly because he was growing worried that their overworked liaison would quite simply combust if he had to intercept one more phone call from ‘concerned civilians’ who were reporting a semi-truck driving through Jasper without its registration.

The Prime’s number plate came to its own crumpled end when he sat down on his berth one evening without removing it first.

One genuine, slightly sheepish apology to a very fed-up liaison later, and Optimus was informed that he and his team no longer needed to wear the plates.

So, the presence of one on this truck is a good sign. It’s less likely to transform and cause an incident.

That does, however, open up an entirely new avenue for concern to creep in.

A crash, perhaps?

Several dark skid marks indicate that it must have veered off the road after a hard, panicked brake.

He can’t pick up any biological signatures either. Even when he casts a wider net, all his sensors catch are the heat signatures of a few tiny, Earthen mammals scurrying about over the sand before they dart into various rock formations when he rolls by. But just because he isn’t picking up the presence of a living human, it doesn’t negate the possibility of a human being inside…

Frame suddenly taut, Optimus trundles to a cautious halt on the road alongside the truck, his engine idling like some great, murmuring beast in the quiet of the desert.

A throaty hum seems to escape his smokestacks as he peers down at the smaller truck, contemplative… considering… Then finally, relieved. There doesn’t appear to be anyone inside, judging by what his headlights illuminate through the cab windows.

What is it doing out here?

It definitely wasn’t here yesterday when he made the drive into Jasper. It isn’t a vehicle he recognises either, and he’s been doubly vigilant of late regarding all the civilian cars, bikes, trucks, vans, and even agricultural vehicles in and around the town.

Privately, he’s been compiling a catalogue of them all, for his own reference.

If there’s a threat to his human charges lurking about in their hometown, Optimus needs to know about it. A Decepticon disguised as a civilian vehicle would be an effective method of infiltration.

Casting one more, cursory ping out into the night to check that he’s definitely alone, he at last begins to unfurl himself into his bipedal mode. Metal plating slides away from his grill, pulling back and rolling along the body of the semi as he rises onto newly revealed pedes. The mechanical whines, whirrs and buzzes are terribly loud and alien amongst the desert’s natural ambiance, but soon enough, the air falls still once again, and a monolithic Cybertronian stands in the place where a Peterbilt used to be.

Soft, cerulean light spills over the abandoned truck as Optimus settles his optics upon it, easing his enormous frame down into a crouch and draping one arm across his knee with a ‘clunk.’

At first glance, he hadn’t noticed anything especially odd about the truck save for its unexpected presence. Leaning sideways, he casts an optic over the front bumper and finds nothing out of place, no damage to indicate a crash, no broken headlights or crushed bonnet.

It’s the same story with the truck’s bed. Only when Optimus hauls himself upright and treads carefully around it to inspect the other side does he notices the glaring problem.

The whole vehicle is canting onto its offside front tyre, a tyre that sports a rather sizeable puncture, considering how flat it is. And from the looks of it, this one was only ever meant to be used as a temporary spare. A quick glance into the truck’s bed reveals what he assumes must be the original tyre, flat as well, with the silver head of a nail jutting from the centre tread block.

Optimus clicks his glossa softly for the owner’s run of bad luck.

Right away, he sends a ping to his team, advising them to be wary of stray nails along this stretch…

He receives several pings in return. Immediately comes Bumblebee’s frustration, buzzed over the airwaves like a sulking sparkling who’s been told his toy was broken. Given the Scout’s inclination to race at top speed all over these roads, Optimus doesn’t doubt he’s just vexed at the shuddersome notion of having to slow down.

Arcee and Bulkhead respond in kind as their leader absently moves his attention to something strange obscuring part of driver’s window, letting their concern wash over his field.

‘Popped a tyre, Boss?’ Bulkhead’s message hits his comm, informal and probing, but with the warmth of care behind it.

Optimus is quick to send a pulse of reassurance back through their shared channel. He’s fine. If one little nail was all it took to take a Prime out of commission, they’d all be in serious, serious trouble.

The channels go quiet after Arcee and Ratchet send their short, concise responses, and once again, Optimus is alone on the road, peering down at a small sheet of paper that’s been taped to the inside of the truck’s front window.

Gradually, he furrows his optical ridges until they almost click together into one, solid line, the apertures inside each optic whirring and shrinking as he reads the words scribbled on the paper.

He recalls the first time he encountered the languages of Earth as they were written. The looping letters, graceful and elegant, chasing one another across the front of the letter Agent Fowler gave him as part of an unofficial welcome to the United States.

Optimus had held the paper so delicately between two of his digits, blinking down at the dark ink soaked into repurposed cellulose fibre. It was beautiful.

When he remarked as such, Fowler made a noncommittal comment that you could tell a lot about humans from their handwriting.

Optimus would sometimes find himself glancing over the children’s homework when they left their books out unattended on the table in their recreational area.

Jack’s neat and sensible cursive. Miko’s chaotic, glittery script that rose and fell and ventured outside the lines because she was usually paying more attention to her music than the words she wrote in her textbook. And Rafael, of course, with his quick, almost frantic stokes of the pen as he tried to scribble his thoughts down as fast as his brain could make them, only to end up losing his confidence halfway through a sentence, doubled back, drew a single line through the words, and started again on a fresh page.

This handwriting though… written in blue, splotchy ink and stuck with a piece of scotch tape to the truck’s window, makes Fowler’s words ring true in Optimus’s processor.

He can tell a lot about the human who wrote it.

‘Please don’t steal/break into my truck,’ it reads. The word ‘please’ has been underlined several times. ‘Not worth much, it’s all I’ve got. Tyre is flat, spare tyre too, so can’t get far anyway. Walking to town to find help bcos phone died and I don’t have a charger. Be back soon. Thanks.’

The ink has run in several places and rendered some of the letters illegible, as if water has been dropped on them from above.

Optimus isn’t naïve. He’s seen the children cry, more times than he can bear.

Then underneath all that, in much smaller writing stuffed underneath the first message like an afterthought they forgot to leave enough space for…

‘P.s, if the truck is still here in 3 days, assume I’m dead.’

With a sudden groan of his metal frame, Optimus braces a servo on his knee and hurriedly pushes himself to his pedes once again, helm swivelling sideways to stare down the length of the road.

The truck’s nose is pointed in the direction of Jasper, but the town itself is still about a fifteen-mile drive…

Surely they wouldn’t make the journey on foot…

But if the note is any indication, then…

His processor flashes again to the children; Miko in particular, and the alarming disregard she has for her own safety. The boys are guilty of that as well, though to a lesser degree.

Suddenly, there’s a very high likelihood that there might be a human wondering through the vast Mojave, alone. Worse still, Bumblebee had reported just last week that there’s been an increase in Decepticon patrols in the area around Jasper. No doubt Megatron has been ramping up his efforts to locate the Autobot base. Their growing presence in the vicinity of town makes these roads particularly treacherous…

Optimus ex-vents roughly, more troubled than frustrated.

Blue optics narrow at the road ahead, and once again, the peace of the desert night is filled by the sounds of living metal collapsing back in on itself.

A powerful engine roars to life. Somewhere nearby, a startled jackrabbit darts beneath the safety of a sagebrush, hiding herself amongst its silvery leaves.

Unblinking, her wild eyes stare after the great, thrumming beast as it moves on down the road.

—————-

You’ve had a lot of ideas in your life.

Some good. Some bad. Some that have paid off, but most that have gone nowhere at all.

Perhaps you were growing tired of going nowhere…

What else would have possessed you to up and move all the way to the middle of Nevada state on the back of a job offer that came from a man your uncle purported to know?

‘Oh yeah, Terry? Did a job with him a few years back for some cattle baron out in the sticks. ‘Course, Terry always wanted his own dairy… Want me to tell him you’re lookin’ for work?’

Turns out, Terry did end up getting that dairy he always wanted. And as it happened, he was looking for a farm hand.

Does it count as nepotism if you’re fairly sure your uncle had only met your future employer once?

Beyond a certain point, you simply couldn’t care less.

A job is a job, even if it is out here in the desert near a town you’d never heard of a month ago.

Dust-caked trainers trudge to a weary halt in front of a large, green road sign.

The moon, thankfully, hangs fat and luminous in the cloudless sky. So at least you don’t need a torch to see, not now that your eyes have had time to adjust the darkness cloaked over the desert.

With your run of bad luck, you half assumed the heavens would have opened by now and given the Mojave a nice, little dose of rain.

“Well,” you mutter aloud to yourself, peering up at the green sign with a grimace, “Could be worse…”

‘Jasper – 10 miles,’ reads like a slap to the face.

Still… It’s better than the fifteen miles.

You must have walked at least five already, dragging your legs behind you like extra baggage that doesn’t want to cooperate.

It has to be beyond midnight now. Well beyond, you suppose.

You’ve been walking for the better part of two hours, slow and sluggish and exhausted. The journey getting to Nevada had been tiring enough, then as soon as you crossed state lines, your tyre caught a puncture going over a particularly nasty pothole that had snuck up on you.

After an hour spent in the blazing sun jacking up the truck and changing to the spare, you set off again for another several hours of travel. Then, twenty miles out of Jasper, just as you dared to celebrate being home-free, the unthinkable had happened.

Who hits a pothole and drives over a nail in the same, damn day? Apparently, the same person who forgot to buy a charger adaptor for the truck.

No charger? No phone.

No phone…? No calling for help…

Your chest expands and deflates with a bone-tired sigh, turning your gaze back onto the long, dark road ahead of you. Tears sting at the inside of your eyelids, and for a moment, you consider letting them fall, if only to ease some of the pressure building up behind your temples. But crying hysterically about the unfairness of the world hadn’t un-punctured your spare tyre, so why would it help the situation now.

“Come on,” you coax yourself, hauling one leg out in front of the other. Rinse. Repeat. “Not far now.”

Just a few more hours…

The going is slow, tough, draining. Even the dark shapes of rocks start to look enticing as you pass them, letting your eyes slide over to them as you wonder just how safe it would be to fall asleep in the desert by the side of a road.

Ever since you broke down a few hours ago, you haven’t seen one, single vehicle out here.

‘Which,’ you hum, pursing your lips and tipping your head back to peer up at the bleary sky far above you, ‘Isn’t so bad…’

The stars are numerous, and startlingly clear out in the wilderness. The moon as well seems brighter here, unobscured by clouds. She makes for a quiet companion on your journey towards Jasper, her starry brethren endlessly stretching out to each corner of the horizon.

Suddenly, you feel very small. A hopeless traveller trying to find port in a sea of sand and rock.

Swallowing roughly, you hike your tattered rucksack high onto your shoulder and tear your gaze from the stars.

It’s quiet out here, save for the rustle of sage bushes disturbed by the warm breeze, and the skittering of rocks as night-time animals go about their hunts.

Perhaps that natural silence is why the sudden introduction of an entirely new sound unnerves you so much.

You jerk to a halt, ears straining to hear something approaching from the distance. Underneath the thin, worn soles of your shoes, you start to feel it; the road thrumming with gentle vibrations, growing stronger every second.

Lighting quick, you whirl around to face the way you’d come, hands flying up to grip anxiously at the straps of your rucksack.

You’d have thought you’d be excited to see those headlights rise up above the horizon line. At last! A stroke of luck! A potential ride! Potential help.

Instead, it’s as though the sudden appearance of two, dazzling lights blooming into view as they crest over the hill finally jar some sense back into your dizzy head.

The haze of fatigue lifts slightly, pushed away by little bursts of adrenaline as your brain fights to wake you up to an unconscious threat.

You’re alone out here. Defenceless, phoneless. You don’t know the area. Nobody knows you’ve broken down… You try so hard to think the best of people, but now that you’ve had one doubt, a hundred others start to scurry around in your brain, demanding attention.

You can see the vehicle, or their lights at least, but you doubt they can see you yet, this far down the road. You wonder what it is. Car? Truck?

… Alien spacecraft? Despite yourself, you let out a snort at that. Isn’t that infamous military base supposed to be in Nevada? The one hiding alien activity?

Right. Sure.

Despite your scepticism however, a thrill of fear rushes down the length of your spine as if to say, ‘Oh? But are you sure sure?’

Gulping audibly, you take a few steps sideways off the road, stealing a glance at a cluster of large rocks that sit conveniently just several yards to your rear.

You have a decision to make.

Maybe you’ve been alone on the road for too long, and isolation has bred a paranoia in you that’s so deeply rooted, you can’t shift it at a moment’s notice. If the sun was out, perhaps you’d be less apprehensive, but the night, no matter where you are, makes everything seem so much more… treacherous. It hides things. People, motivations, monsters.

And though it pains you to do so, you swiftly decide to err on the side of personal safety.

The vehicle is closer now, and your blood trembles as the roar of a loud, formidable engine thunders over the tarmac. Yet you’re still certain it isn’t close enough to have caught you in its high-beams.

On sluggish legs, you haul yourself about and make a clumsy dash for the rocks, clenching a fist around one strap of the rucksack and using your other hand to grab the closest rock and swing yourself behind it. Dropping to your backside, you flatten your spine against the cool, solid surface, eyes wide, heart beating hard against the cage of ribs keeping it from leaping up into your throat.

‘Coward,’ a voice in the back of your head scoffs, sounding suspiciously like your father. You shake it loose. Now is not the time to be bothered by old ghosts.

The thundering engine draws nearer, rumbling in your chest as it seems to creep towards your hiding spot at a pace even a glacier would be impressed by.

Around the corner of the rock, you can finally see the glow of its headlights smoothing over the tarmac, illuminating the sand and brush all around you. Hurriedly, you tuck your toes right into the shadow cast by your rock, keeping a breath held hostage behind clenched teeth.

“Come on… Come on,” you urge it frustratedly, aware that every second you spend not moving is another second towards sunrise. If you’re not on the dairy ready for work by then…

The vehicle rolls to a stop.

It stops.

The temptation to let out a frustrated scream is only held in check by your tongue getting stuck to the roof of bone-dry mouth.

They saw you. They must have seen you. There’s no way they could have known you were here otherwise.

Idiot!

Wasting time on the decision has only taken it right out of your hands in the end.

A bead of sweat escapes your hairline and rolls down the side of your face, following the curve of your cheek. Should you run? Keep hiding? Did they stop by coincidence? If they meant no harm, they’d have seen you hide and kept on driving, wouldn’t they? Stopping is suspicious. It conveys a desire to engage.

And then something really strange happens.

“Excuse me?”

And… Well, you’re… not entirely proud of the choked gasp that jumps out of you, nor the way you flinch as if you’d been struck.

When did they – He? It’s a low voice, deeper than anything you’ve heard in a long while, full of bass but soft like distant brontide.

When did he get out of the vehicle? You didn’t hear a door open, nor close.

You nearly jump out of your skin when he speaks again.

“I’ve frightened you…” Despite how gentle the timbre is, his voice is loud, like he’s speaking all around you, not just behind you. “I apologise,” the stranger continues, “That is the last thing I meant to do.”

What the Hell is he talking about?

There’s a long, unpleasant stretch of time until he speaks again.

“Was that your… Ford?” he asks, like he’s testing the word on his tongue, “Up the road?”

Shit. You’re starting to regret leaving that note. He must have read it and knew someone would be walking into town, alone and vulnerable.

The vehicle's powerful engine is still idling, strong and steady, buzzing along the ground and up through the soles of your feet.

It goes against your nature to ignore someone when they’re talking to you, but there’s still a part of you clinging to the hope that he’ll just give up and move on if you don’t respond or show yourself. Perhaps he’ll think you were just a figment of an overtired imagination…

Of course, instead, he persists. “Please.”

Jesus, he almost squeezes the word out, oozing dejection.

“You have nothing to fear from me… I’m a friend.”

A friend indeed. You huff quietly to yourself. You don’t even know him. He doesn’t know you. He’s trying to coax you out of hiding after watching you flee from his vehicle. Hardly the foundation for a good friendship. Still, you have to wonder why he doesn’t just come around the rock to stand over you if he’s so keen.

After another few seconds of stubborn silence on your part, the voice speaks again.

“Will you at least step back from the rock?”

What?

“There are scorpions on it, and I fear you’ll get-“

You don’t think you’ve moved so fast in quite some time. One moment you’re pressing yourself to the rock, and the next, you’re scrabbling to your feet with gusto, lurching away from your prior hiding space and spinning around, skin already crawling.

Sure enough, a pair of giant scorpions are scuttling around on the flat top, their tails held aloft, proud and large in the moonlight.

“-Hurt,” the stranger finishes.

Snatching your head up, you find yourself staring right into the vehicle’s headlights, and you instantly grunt with discomfort, raising a hand to shield your eyes from the light.

“Oh.” There’s a pause, the vehicle’s engine skips, and the lights suddenly dim, plunging you into almost darkness save for the dim glow of residual light. “Forgive me. Is that better?”

“Much. Thanks,” you respond automatically, only to turn rigid once you realise you’ve spoken aloud.

Well. He’s already seen you. No point pretending you can’t talk either…

Again, the stranger’s vehicle makes an odd noise, it’s engine hums gently, and as you lower your arm to seek out the man you’ve just opened a line of conversation with, you finally see what you’d been hiding from.

A monstrous Peterbilt sits squarely across the width of the road, entirely alien in the barren, rocky landscape. Smokestacks on either side of its cab reach towards the sky, glinting silver in the moonlight. It looks red under the meagre glow, with lighter panelling on the main body and dark, blue accents on the wheel trims and storage compartment. The grill is, in a word, massive, standing taller than you are, sporting a logo you don’t recognise on the front.

All in all, it’s a hell of a truck. Powerful, you imagine. Expensive too.

You try not to let your mouth hang ajar.

“Where-” Your voice cracks, still dry. “Ahem…! Where are you?”

Glancing around, your hackles start to rise. You can’t see the speaker anywhere. Which is why you let out an embarrassingly shrill yelp when his voice rumbles directly from the semi.

“I’m right here,” he assures you, polite enough not to show his amusement whilst you flap your mouth open and closed.

No, you shake your head. No, that is too weird. “What, are there like… speakers on the outside of your truck or something?”

There’s the tiniest of pauses, followed by a simple, concise, “There are.”

Oh. Well, then. That answers that burning question.

“Okay? So, um… Can I… help you?” you ask awkwardly, screwing one side of your face up.

The man seems to hesitate, allowing a pregnant pause to hang in the air between you before he replies, “I was going to ask you the same thing.”

Somehow, your expression twists even further south, and you begin casting your eyes over the semi, squinting through its dark windshield to try and catch a glimpse of what’s on the other side.

“I saw your truck on the side of the road,” the unseen man continues, “I feared you might have been hurt in a crash, so, I stopped to check that you weren’t still inside the vehicle. Then I found your note.”

He falls silent, and the air is dominated once again by the purring of his semi’s engine.

“Okay?” you prompt, still unsure of his motivations.

“It said you need help.”

He trails off, waiting. You’re promptly struck by the idea that he’s trying to guide you to some conclusion he hasn’t yet revealed. Finally, just as you start to grow restless, he forges ahead, “These roads can be hazardous for a lone hu-“

Suddenly, the truck’s engine revs, drowning out his voice for a second and sending you leaping backwards, startled.

“- A lone traveller…” he clears his throat just after the roar of its exhaust cuts out. Then, “Ah, If I may be so bold...”

All of a sudden, the passenger side door unlatches and swings open, and you’re presented with a clear invitation into the darkened cab. “May I offer you a ride into town?”

You wonder if he can see you turn stiff at his suggestion. Your body all but pleads on hands and knees for you to accept. What’s the worst that could happen, after all?

Well. You’ve watched several documentaries and movies that give you a pretty good indication of what ‘the Worst’ entails, thank you very much. You don’t like that he’s inviting you into his truck without showing his face to you yet. You’d like to gauge the person you’re speaking to. Get a bead on him. Is he big? Strong? Tall? Could you overpower him if it came down to it? Does he look like he’s hiding a weapon on him?

All these questions only serve to dry the moisture in your throat.

“I… That’s… very kind of you,” you admit, wringing your hands together as you take a small step away from the semi, “But I’m sure it’ll be okay, it isn’t that far.”

“At an average speed of three miles per hour, you will reach the outskirts of town in just under three and a half hours.”

You blink, caught off guard. ‘And they said we’d never need to use equations after we graduated.’

“Maths guy, huh?” you cock a hip, laying a hand across it and shooting the truck’s windshield a tentative smile, “Maybe I walk at four miles an hour.”

“Two and a half then,” he quips back just as smoothly, the door to his semi still hanging open. When he continues, you can’t help but notice that the cadence of his baritone voice rumbling through the speakers has turned to something a little more sombre, quieter, like he’s trying to impress upon you the gravity of a situation you don’t yet know about. “But time and distance aside, I do not wish to leave you to walk into Jasper by yourself, particularly at this time of night.”

He speaks like he’s been to elocution lessons. Every word seems to be carefully selected, every vowel and consonant articulate and refined.

It’s disarming. He’s disarming. But you’re still not convinced.

“Listen… Thank you, again. But…” It feels rude, like you’re committing some kind of faux pas in turning your back on the semi, yet you can’t shake the nagging voice at the back of your head, telling you that there’s something not quite right about the man in the truck. Not bad, just… off.

“It’s a kind offer,” you tell him again lamely, turning on your heel. And so, you recommence your weary march for Jasper, tossing one last sentiment over your shoulder, “But I’m sure I can make it on my own. Take care, okay?”

You almost expect him to argue, but all you can hear is the now familiar drone of the semi’s almighty engine. For several paces, you can feel a pair of eyes watching you, scrutinising and pensive, if a little baffled by your short yet polite dismissal.

When you make it another ten feet, heaving your tired legs after you over the tarmac, your ears perk up to the sound of an engine revving.

Smokestacks chugging, the massive truck pulls out of its standstill, unseen behind you.

Chewing on the inside of your lip, you keep your gaze fixed to the ground ahead and raise a hand, flapping it about in an apologetic farewell as you meander further off the road and onto the sand, giving him plenty of space to get past.

You start to frown when you make it twenty paces without being overtaken by the truck.

That frown only grows deeper when the engine keeps churring away behind you, rubber tyres crunching tiny particles of sand under their treads as it crawls along in your wake.

Is he…?

Tearing your eyes off the toes of your shoes, you send a fleeting glance over your shoulder, surprised – but not much – to find the nose of the Peterbilt creeping slowly along in your peripheral vision, keeping pace with you.

Your frown eases back, and you quirk a brow at him instead, calmly asking, “What are you doing?”

And just as easily, the voice returns, “If you will not allow me to drive you, I will happily escort you to your destination.”

You can’t help yourself.

“Ha! ‘Escort.’” The snicker jumps out of you faster than you can raise your hands to press your fingertips against an unbidden grin. “Sorry,” you immediately try to amend, “You just sounded so serious.”

“… I… am serious?”

Letting your hand flop back to your side, you give your head a shake, still grinning. You really do meet all sorts on the road.

“Regardless, I’m sure you have far better things to be doing with your time.”

How the truck matches your walking speed without his engine faltering or sputtering, you’ll never know.

A strange noise gurgles from its exhaust, almost perfectly reminiscent of a troubled hum.

“On the contrary,” the driver responds, pulling forwards a little until only the grill overtakes you, and for a moment, you worry he’s about to drive across your path, “There is nothing at the moment that concerns me more than getting you safely where you need to go.”

Huh. Of all the genuine, stubborn…

“Look.” Your shoes scuff up a cloud of sand as you draw to an abrupt and decisive halt, turning bodily towards the truck. Hands splayed on your hips, you glare at the windscreen, aiming approximately for the driver. A second later, he must have hit the brakes because the semi lurches to a stop as well, hissing noisily.

Still, he doesn’t step out.

“You seem like a nice guy,” you start, trying to keep your chin raised and your tone stern. You fail, of course. Your voice cracks nervously, but at least you try. Taking a deep, steadying breath, you finally elect to stop beating around the bush and just address the elephant in the room – or desert, as it were.

“But I don’t make it a habit to get into random trucks with strangers.” You make it a point not to directly accuse him of having ulterior motives, but you hope you’ve at least driven home your main concern. At best, he’ll grow offended that you’d think him capable of such a thing and – hopefully – move on. At worst… Well. You brace yourself for that, teeth grit so tightly, your jaw starts to ache as you flick your eyes over towards the truck’s driver-side door, waiting.

The truck in question does something odd then. It… sinks? At least you think it does, lowering on its axles by a few inches like the wheels have just deflated. It’s difficult to tell in the dim moonlight though, and it’s over so quickly, you can’t be sure you saw anything at all that wasn’t just a trick of the desert.

How long have you been awake?

You’re busy calculating the hours you were driving when the stranger’s voice is kicked out over the speakers again.

“You assume I mean you harm…” he utters.

And just like that, the stern, rigid scowl is instantly wiped off your face.

He sounds…

…sad.

Not offended. Not angered by your thinly-veiled implication.

Just sad. Dispirited, even. As if it’s only just occurred to him that you might have perceived him as a threat.

It’s almost painful when the pair of you dissolve into an uncomfortable silence that lasts for several beats of your rapid-fire heart.

Biting down on the inside of your cheek, your brows drift apart whilst you try to think of something to say. Trouble is, you’re afraid that speaking again will only make things worse.

You have no idea what’s going through his head. What if his dejected tone is followed by something worse?

“I’m sorry,” you backtrack, pressing your lips together and chiding yourself for faltering, “It’s nothing personal, just… I-I should probably get going before I fall asleep standing up.” You give a stilted laugh, but it soon turns into an awkward sound made at the back of your throat, lips pulled over your teeth in a grimace.

Dipping your head, you swallow thickly and grip the straps of your rucksack again. But just as you make to turn away, the semi’s wheels abruptly twist towards you. It’s ever so slight, just enough that the truck rolls a few paces in your direction before it stops again, its grill pointed straight at you.

With an audible gulp, you go to take another step back, staring at the metal in anticipation. Your retreat is soon halted by the mellow rumble of his voice.

“I understand your hesitation. And I know that the word of a stranger may not hold much weight,” he begins slowly. The Peterbilt inches forwards again. “But I can assure you, you have nothing to fear from me…”

Shifting on your feet, you let go of your bag and clutch instead at your elbows, brows tipped up indecisively. He’s persistent, you’ll give him that. He also speaks with a candour you’ve never encountered outside of a film or a storybook. Frank and forthright in a way you’ve never been privy to. Is that why you’re hesitating? Is that why he seems ‘off?’ Because his level of sincerity doesn’t have a place in your world?

Perhaps you’ve been spending so much time by yourself, it’s turned you distrustful. Maybe you’re just getting cynical. Looking back on your journey here, you realise that only other person who you’ve spoken to was a disinterested server who took your order at a drive-thru… That was four days ago. How long before that did you listen to someone who wasn’t the people on your truck’s radio?

Why is it so suspicious that this trucker wants to help? Hell, you’d be concerned as well if you saw some poor bastard hiking alone through the desert at night without a friend in the world.

Christ, you need some perspective.

The driver must see the conflict painted like a brand across your expression.

“Would it reassure you to know that this vehicle is operated entirely remotely?” he pipes up.

You blink once. Then again to wake yourself up a little more, pulled from your inner turmoil. “What?”

“This vehicle,” he tells you, “It is an unmanned vehicle.”

Curiosity overtakes suspicion faster than you can uncross your arms and stare at the grill dumbly, face opening up in surprise. “Wait. You mean it’s one of those self-driving things?”

“In a sense.” The semi’s engine rumbles softly, and the not-driver adds, “I am what you might call… the safety driver.”

Now that is curious.

You don’t even realise you’ve taken a step closer. “Really? But I thought that sort of tech was still in testing?”

“It is,” he replies, “We are, however, attempting to advance to field-tests, to see if these vehicles can autonomously haul freight in areas with sparser populations, to minimise the risk of collision.”

“Hence why you’re driving it out here in the middle of the night,” you realise aloud, raising an inquisitive brow at the windscreen, “So you’re really not in there? You’re driving it from somewhere else?”

“Would you care to see for yourself?” he asks kindly.

Your wide eyes flit to the passenger door when it eases open once again, though this time, it seems far less foreboding than before.

Tugging a loose piece of skin between your teeth, you give the silver steps leading to the door a scrutinising glance.

That does reassure you…

Slowly, still at least a little wary, you coax your legs to move, and they begrudgingly carry you onto the road. You approach the semi-truck with all the caution of a doe crossing an open meadow.

As you venture closer, its engine kicks up a notch, emitting a steady, gentle purr as if the vehicle itself is pleased with your acquiescence.

Suddenly, as you move along to the open door, you’re dazzled by a light flickering on inside the cab, bathing what you can see from this angle in a calm, golden hue.

From down here, it looks… just like an ordinary interior.

And lo and behold, as you stand on your tiptoes to see in, you find the driver’s seat is eerily devoid of its occupant.

You let out a breath that emerges shakier than you would have liked it to.

“Wow,” you laugh, impressed.

Maybe just a quick peek…

A vast chunk of apprehension breaks away from your chest and vanishes into the ether as you shuffle towards the steps, raising an arm and stretching your fingers across the space to the grab handle that sits invitingly just beside the open door.

This side of the truck is bathed in silver moonlight, and it’s only now that you’re this close that you happen to notice something you hadn’t before.

You almost wince when you spot them.

Although shiny and speckled with only the lightest dusting of desert sand, the metal panelling on the semi is covered in signs of wear and tear.

Enough to give you pause, at least.

For a moment, you’re taken aback, turning bodily away from the open door and cocking your head at the myriad of scratches that criss-cross their way up towards the semi’s roof.

All the paint in the world couldn’t hide some of those shallow nicks and lines that have been scraped out of the metal. In any case, something big must have scuffed it. Perhaps another driver in their own Peterbilt? Or perhaps it’s all damage sustained in testing the vehicle’s automated capabilities.

Clicking your tongue, you absently raise a hand to stroke your fingertips gingerly along the length of a particularly prominent scratch by the door.

“Oh dear,” you tut softly at the side of the truck, “You’ve been in the wars, haven’t you?”

Without warning, the engine that had been buzzing so gently suddenly ramps up and starts to vibrate firmly beneath your fingers, so strong you can even feel it judder the ground through the soles of your feet.

Recoiling like you’ve been zapped, you whip your head around to peer through the open door, half expecting the driver to admonish you for touching his vehicle.

As swiftly as it started however, the thrumming engine dies down, and the truck returns to its soft, benign idling. “My apologies,” comes that gentle voice again through the speakers, “Just an overactive combustion chamber.”

“Is it... safe to ride in?” you retort, giving the back of the truck a sidelong glance.

“You will find very few vehicles safer than this one,” he tells you patiently, “I will not allow any harm to befall you, as I would not allow it to befall any of my passengers.”

Your shoulders jump with a silent laugh. “Befall,” you parrot, fighting a smile, “I love the way you talk.”

“… You do?” His speakers buzz with a pleasant hum.

Fingers flexing anxiously, you reach out once again and slide them around the grab handle beside the door, finding that it’s unexpectedly warm under your palm.

“So, I just… get in?” you ask, only to cringe immediately, realising you probably sound like a fool who’s forgotten how to get into a truck.

Before you can rebuke yourself harshly though, the absent stranger offers his response. “Do you require assistance?”

“No, no,” you rush out, placing one foot on the first, silver step and hoisting yourself up off the ground, bringing yourself level with the cab’s seats.

Your eyes grow wide with wonder as you take in the interior.

“Oh, wow,” you breathe, suddenly hesitant to pull yourself up those last few feet.

“Is there something wrong?”

“It’s just… It’s so clean!”

Laid out before you is a perfectly ordinary truck cabin. Soft, grey leather covers the seats, with the same dark colouration on the roof, doors and most of the glovebox, interspersed by a rich, black steering wheel. The soft light, you discover, is emitted by multiple strips of blue neon LEDs that the driver must have fitted underneath the radio dials and dashboard, casting the truck’s interior in a cool, soothing glow.

But most astonishingly, for as much as you search, you can’t spot a single thing out of place. It’s absolutely immaculate. There isn’t one receipt stuffed in the door pockets, no traces of sand or gravel dirtying the footwells, no loose change tossed into the centre console…

Dumbfounded, you glance into the back, but all you find it a dark, grey panel and a shelf set back into the semi’s rear wall, meant for use as a bed, you surmise. It’s empty, unsurprisingly. Not a blanket or a pillow in sight.

Finally, your suspicions are put to rest. This truck doesn’t look lived in at all. He really is operating it remotely.

“God, it looks brand new in here,” you marvel aloud, suddenly hyper-conscious of the abysmal state of your old pickup. The scratches on this semi’s exterior play briefly on your mind but you brush your musings aside, too fatigued to consider the contradictions of a worn exterior but an immaculate interior.

Instead, you feel a frown crease the skin between your brows.

It really is immaculate in here…

Glancing down, you scowl disdainfully at your filthy shoes, the tank-top that’s stained irreparably by dropped food and greasy finger-smears, and trousers that are tattered and worn at their hems.

“Is everything all right?” the ‘driver’ asks again. His voice must emerge from the speakers on each door, low and warm, filling up the cabin.

“My shoes are dirty,” you admit out loud, your grip on the handle turning slack until you sink a few inches back to the first step, “I’m dirty. I-I don’t want to get sand and crap all over your truck.”

“I don’t mind.”

Spoken with more consideration than you’ve heard in a long, long time.

You pause at once, brows tipping up in the centre of your forehead.

A deep inhale through your nose brings with it the unobtrusive scent of leather, with the faintest undertone of adhesive sealers, giving the interior that ‘new truck smell’ that so many drivers try to replicate artificially.

Comparatively, it’s been several days since you passed a rest stop that had showering facilities. Those that did asked for a hefty charge. You’d glanced down at the handful of coppers in your centre console and decided you could go without. Now, you’re starting to regret that decision. Every now and then, whenever you raised your arms to stretch or flip the visor down in your pickup, you’d catch an unpleasant whiff of yourself wafting out from under your light, cotton shirt.

Embarrassed as you are to confess that you’ve been severely neglecting your personal hygiene, you swallow past a lump in your throat and croak, “I… haven’t exactly washed for a couple of days… I wouldn’t want to make your truck smell…”

And in a tone so kind it threatens to brings a tear to your eye, the stranger answers consolingly, “I think your scent is perfectly fine.”

It’s so damnably genuine, you can’t even find it in yourself to point out that he isn’t here to smell you, so his point is moot.

“I…” One more cop-out strikes you. “I don’t have any money,” you murmur truthfully, ashamed, “I can’t pay you for the fuel, or-“

“-I ask for nothing in return but your company,” is all he says, cutting you off as gently as his profound voice will allow.

And just like that, you’re out of viable excuses. Or perhaps your body has noticed the comfortable seats right in front of it and you don’t have enough fight left in you to deny it a sit down. Besides, any reasons you come up with to dip are likely to be met with a counterpoint.

Even so, you can’t help but hesitate for one more question, hand clasping and unclasping around the grab handle. “Are you sure it’s okay? I’m not going to get you in trouble or anything am I?”

The next sound that hums through his speakers is so soft and rich, you think it’s the truck’s engine playing up again, at least until the stranger cuts the noise off by saying, “You do not look like trouble to me.”

If he only knew.

The sound prior, you realise, was a chuckle, the first one you’ve heard out of him yet. Something in the measure of it settles the last of your nerves, only slightly, just long enough to have you throwing caution to the wind. With a final heave, you pull yourself the rest of the way inside, sliding gingerly into the comfortable passenger seat. You never notice how the metal below your foot shifts microscopically, lifting you closer to the cab.

It takes a lot of restraint not to let your eyes drift closed, nor to slump backwards into the wondrously giving material on your spine.

Instead, you sit stiffly with your rucksack keeping you upright, legs pressed together, hands folded neatly in your lap. If you make any kind of mess in here, you’ll be mortified.

After a moment, you remember to close the door, but just as you turn and peel a hand off your thigh, you jolt, staring agog at the door as it swings slowly shut with a dull ‘click.’ All of its own accord.

“Full remote access,” the voice pipes up as the engine below you roars to life, and then you’re moving, and all you can do is stare through the window at the desert drifting by whilst trying to ignore the uninvited ache in your chest.

“Seatbelt.”

His gentle prompt spurs you to reach over and grab the fabric near your shoulder, tugging it across your body and fumbling a little to slot it into place. Suddenly, you feel an invisible pull on the belt, and the metal buckle finds its way into the socket on your next pass.

‘Must be magnetic,’ you muse distractedly.

“Are you comfortable?”

Blinking back the moisture in your eyes, you turn to glance at the empty driver’s seat. It’s bizarre, and more than a little unsettling to see the steering wheel turn itself around as the truck pulls back onto the road, driven by unseen hands.

When you don’t immediately respond to his query, the man continues just as patiently as before. “If it is too cold, I can turn up the heater. Or… perhaps you are too warm…” He hums to himself, thoughtful. “You have been exerting yourself.”

You instantly become aware of the light sheen of sweat that hasn’t quite dried on your forehead. Puckering your face up into a solemn smile, you shake your head and at last respond. “Not to worry. It’s very comfortable in here.”

What follows is a poignant moment of hesitation before the voice speaks again. “Forgive me if I’m overstepping, but… You do not seem comfortable…”

The open-ended statement fades into silence, and you’re left casting nervous glances around the cabin again. “How do you-?” you start, tugging your shirt further down your arms, “Can you see me? Like… in here?”

Again, there’s a pause, barely longer than a second, yet long enough for you to notice it.

“Cameras,” comes his measured response, “Both external and internal. They’re how I spotted you on the road.”

“Oh, I hadn’t even considered that… Of course.”

Suddenly self-conscious, you reach up and begin to paw uselessly at your dishevelled hair, humming though a thin-lipped smile. “I must look a sight,” you half joke.

“You look tired…” he replies diplomatically, and there’s nothing in it for you to be offended by.

Rubbing a thumb over the wrinkle slowly carving a home between your brows, you heave a dreary sigh. “It’s been a long journey.”

“I can only imagine… And… Where does it culminate, if I may?”

“Terry’s Dairy?” you offer, “Uh, it’s this little farm just on the outskirts of Jasper.”

The truck beneath you gives a reverberating thrum. “I know the pastures, but I’m afraid you will find they lay beyond the ‘outskirts’ of the city.”

Letting out a groan, you knock your head back against the seat behind you, staring bleakly up at the ceiling. “Of course… How far?”

“Only a few miles, to the East of Jasper. We’re coming in from the Northwest highway. I can get you there in twenty-five minutes.”

“Twenty- Oh, no, no. You really don’t have to do that,” you protest, shifting in the seat to frown at the empty driver’s seat in lieu of anywhere else to look, “Just drop me off in town and I’ll walk the rest. You’re already going out of your way for a stranger.”

“I am dropping you off at your destination and not a mile before,” he tells you steadily.

His uncompromising tone brooks no argument.

You stare at the spot a person should be for several, long moments, debating how much you could push an argument. He’s already coaxed you into his truck, his powers of persuasion are rather good. What chance do you have, sleep-deprived as you are?

Conceding sullenly, yet appreciatively, you let your back touch the seat, settling into it a little less hesitantly. “You won’t be taking no for an answer, I assume?”

He only lapses into a stubborn silence, an answer in and of itself.

That quiet is broken, however, when you suddenly let out all the air from your lungs, a smile growing across the width of your face as the breath escapes your nostrils in a sigh. “Thank you for this… Really. You’re saving me a lot of grief.”

The blue neons on his dashboard seem to flare a bit brighter for all of a second before they dim again. “I am glad to be of service,” he replies warmly.

“Oh my god,” you blurt without warning, leaning forwards in the seat and staring through the windscreen with wide eyes, “I’m so sorry, you’re being so nice and I’m so rude – I never asked your name.”

“Nor did I yours,” he points out, “You may call me Op-“

Suddenly, a burst of static buzzes through the radio. You shoot it a funny look.

“Optimus,” the stranger admits over the static with a hesitance you pick up on right away, drawing your gaze from the dash, “My name is Optimus.”

“Optimus?” you repeat incredulously, a small smile quirking at the edges of your mouth, “Wow… You must have had creative parents.”

“I appreciate that it might seem… an unusual name…”

“It is,” you agree pleasantly, “I like it. Makes you sound cool. Unique. My parents just stuck me with Y/n.”

At once, Optimus echoes your name, and you’re jarred by the sound of it coming from someone else’s lips, reverberating around the truck. It’s been a while since anyone used it.

“Y/n,” he says again in his velvety timbre, “It’s a fine name. I like yours too.”

#Optimus Prime #TFP #optimus x reader #Reader #Fluff #protective optimus #Nevada

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synthetickitsune · 2 months

Text

Ashes Settle, Left Behind ✧ y.jh [part 1]

Pairing: Yoon Jeonghan x ghost!reader (gn) Genre: horror-ish angst Summary: Everything eventually comes to an end. Life. Love. Even marriage only lasts until death do us apart. So why should a soul bond be any different? Word count: 10k Warnings: a lot of inaccuracies that we shall all ignore for the sake of the plot (pretty please), mentions of fire, jeonghan has an invisible stalker basically A/N: Things got a little out of hand but lately that's all they do when it comes to me and writing lmao... Anyway, excited to finally be sharing the first part of my addition for @svthub's world tour collab! It ended up being more fun (and longer) than I expected and the second part hopefully shouldn't take too long now - unless I feel like torturing these two more. Also shoutout to @wooahaeproductions for helping me find out about the fire of Seattle that started all this! -> svthub world tour masterlist -> [part 2] (coming soon!)

You feel a shift in the air.

As if a tomb was opened and you could breathe again, see the world again. You see the light at the end of a tunnel. You let it envelope you.

You take a breath but the air doesn’t reach your lungs. You feel light and airy. Not held down by gravity; your lungs not weighted down by ashes and smoke.

You raise your hands and see. See - but not yourself. Just a blur. Like looking at the world through water.

Your body’s not there.

Just a ghost. A lingering memory someone dreamed up after an eternity.

It takes an effort to come to terms with your existence. Again. With a completely new form, in a new time. You’re not sure what’s a bigger shock - your ethereal self or how much everything changed.

You can’t wander out, caged in another memory kept preserved in the bones of the city you lived in.

The people are different. The technology is different. It’s hard to understand, but you have nothing better to do than watch the people who come in and walk through the graveyard that is your home. And you learn. It’s not much, but it’s enough.

The modern world is easy to grasp, but life… not so much. There’s only one thing that’s for certain: something changed.

Something made the change happen. You have no explanation as to how or why. But you know one thing. He has returned.

As if you’ve been longing for eternity, you feel so relieved you could cry.

You can clearly visualize it. Him bursting in through the door, embracing you and spinning with you in his arms with that pretty and carefree smile.

He’s coming home. Finally, he’s coming home again.

You should get the dinner started…

But…

The kitchen burned down.

The house burned down.

The city burned down.

Usually he’d be cursing his alarm right about now, but today Jeonghan is already awake and sipping coffee by the window of his little shop.

Despite only having slept a couple hours, he feels energized and ready to face the day. He’s sure the exhaustion would catch up with him later, but the benefit of being his own boss and living right above his workplace is that he could always spend his lunch break napping in the comfort of his bed if he needed to. Although he isn’t sure he’d manage to keep his eyes closed or get a decent sleep until he figured out his battle plan.

What battle?

Figuring out the decoration for the upcoming city festival. The thought alone makes him breathe deeply and bite back a smile.

It was made very clear throughout the negotiations that he and his shop wasn’t the first choice; the general mood was more along the lines of you’ll have to do because no one else would accept an offer this low. But Jeonghan truthfully didn’t mind, he didn’t even mind the low pay even though it’d barely make him any profit. It was an opportunity to put himself and his business out there and show what he and his team are capable of.

Having only tipped their toes into the waters of providing decorations for big events, this was huge. There was nothing he loved more than making bouquets for his customers and bringing smiles to faces that he sometimes couldn’t even see, but he also craved success. Not to mention that if his shop got contracted for more deals like this (with better pay, hopefully), he could likely afford to take better care of the people helping him, which was ultimately a stronger drive to make it big than the status of a successful business owner.

“Someone’s up early.”

He turns in the direction of the voice and sees Joshua and Seungkwan walking in, both with a cup of coffee in their hands. Seeing them, he feels like he could work nonstop for weeks, all the way until the festival.

If everything goes well, maybe they could start doing weddings. Joshua is always going on about wanting to design and make someone's wedding bouquet. He'd be ecstatic if they got the opportunity. Most of them would be, Jeonghan thinks. He's seen some of Jihoon's ideas scribbled on loose pages around the shop. They were perfect, some fit for a neat modern wedding, others straight out of fairytale. Seungkwan daydreams of making little flower crowns for the flower girls and flower boys.

Weren’t they simply meant to do weddings? It's not an easy business venture to get into, but with the festival... It's a good opportunity. Or maybe he’s just too hopeful.

"Good morning" he greets his friends with a warm smile. "It's gonna be a busy day so why not start straight away?"

"Someone's in a good mood," Seungkwan teases, but he's smiling too.

The morning routine is a breeze with one extra person. Eventually, Seokmin and Jihoon come in and join too as they all agreed to meet and plan for the big event ahead. The back room is cramped with all of them gathered - another sign they need to make a lot of money and expand.

Although Jeonghan likes it this way, likes how cozy the main space of the shop is.

“Is there any theme they want? Colors, aesthetic?” Joshua asks, “It’d be much easier if there was.”

“No,” Jeonghan sighs, “They didn’t mention anything, so I guess we’re free to do whatever. It’s a history faire so I guess they have no idea either.”

“So something that will survive drunk dudes pissing in it for anything that’s not hanging in the air it is,” Seungkwan claps his hands like it’s a done deal, turning the attention of everyone to himself.

“Don’t ruin your boss’ illusions, dude,” Seokmin scolds him immediately, whisper-shouting as if Jeonghan couldn’t hear.

“He’s right though,” Jihoon points out with a shrug. Jeonghan pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Let’s dream a little and aim for aesthetic over functionality, shall we,” he sighs, “Bushes and weeds might be practical and local but let’s take this opportunity seriously.”

He gives Joshua a sharp glare before he can speak up. He knows his friend isn’t entirely on board with this thing ever since he heard about the details of the meeting Jeonghan attended. He’s not stupid, he knows they’re not taken seriously and that, realistically, it will be a miracle if anyone cares what they do for the decorations. It is a good way to advertise themselves though.

“We should do something fun,” Seokmin interrupts their little staring contest, “We could make something nice and historical.”

Jeonghan thought about the same thing, the issue is…

“Flowers aren’t really known to last long, you know,” Jihoon points out, “That’s their beauty.”

“It might be a challenge to find any historical inspiration,” Joshua hums in thought, “But it would be cool if we pulled it off.”

Everyone seems to agree, and it shouldn’t be a surprise. After all, Jeonghan's main goal whenever he was hiring was to create a team of people that would fit well together. He didn’t want them to feel like coworkers, and he couldn’t be happier that it truly feels like they’re friends first and colleagues second.

The idea grows and transforms. The idea of teambuilding is thrown around a lot, even though it sounds more like an excuse to hang out instead of doing actual research and hunting for ideas. Some suggestions are better than others, some more logical than others, but Jeonghan decides to sit back and relax. Whatever they do, he’s confident the end result will be great. They’ll do well. Even if this whole thing turns into one big hang out under the guise of working. It might do them well to have fun without any worries. There’s gonna be plenty of time for that later.

The scene is all too familiar. You feel it just as you did those twenty-something years ago, although who really keeps track.

The light returning to your life. The world welcoming you back. It feels like it’s opening its arms to you now.

His arms. The safety, the security. The love. You yearn.

You feel it now almost physically; truly an oxymoron in your predicament.

You kept looking for him in the strange faces coming day after day, but it was never him. Not until now.

He’s coming home.

He’s close.

It makes your whole being tingle, like a magnet drawn to another, like a moth flying too close to a flame yet unable to pull back.

You feel the shift in the air. A rush of fresh breeze carrying the scent of wildflowers and the scent of the meadow where he stole your first kiss.

He’s here.

“This is stupid,” Jeonghan grumbles. His arms are crossed over his chest and there’s a displeased wrinkle between his brows. He wasn’t prepared for the sudden temperature drop between outside and here.

“Inspiration is a mysterious thing,” Joshua smooths that wrinkle away and chuckles, “Besides this is research. And that was your idea if I remember correctly.”

“My idea,” Jeonghan hisses, “Was googling a bunch of stuff and then deciding what had the chance of best results. Not going on a history tour that will be useless.”

“It’s more authentic. We’re going to breathe in the atmosphere of the old city,” the other man shrugs, “And c’mon, can you believe we’ve never been on one of these?”

Yes. Yes, he’s perfectly willing to believe so, because these tours are for tourists and history nuts and they’re neither. They have a flower shop for god’s sake.

He doesn’t say that aloud, however, because the tour guide appears and as grumpy as the cold might be making him, and as spiteful he might feel towards Joshua for dragging him here so early in the morning on their day off, he won’t spoil the mood. So he schools his expression into a curious smile and listens to the introduction.

It’s not too bad once he gets into it. Although it does absolutely nothing so far as searching for anything decoration-related goes and inspiration is yet to hit him, it’s interesting. More so than he expected. And Joshua being Joshua reads his mind well enough that he asks the questions Jeonghan is also curious about. The younger man gives him a knowing smile whenever Jeonghan nods along to the guide’s explanation. He rolls his eyes at him.

The tour is really nice - unexpectedly, they also discover a half-burned photograph of a couple with flower baskets behind them and also a newspaper clip with a photo of something that looked like a faire with flowers decorating the streets that his companion excitedly pointed out to him. Not that either of these were clear enough to get any real inspiration, but hey, at least they will have something to report back to the guys.

However, as the tour progresses, an uneasy feeling grows in Jeonghan’s stomach. He’s never had any real issue with claustrophobia, so he doesn’t think that’s it. Human bodies are weird though, and their minds even more so. He’s stronger than some irrational fear trying to pull a trick on him. Is it really a phobia though? Is phobia supposed to make him anxious to his bones and hit him with nausea that feels like a cold hand squeezing his stomach? His knees feel like they’ll buckle under him any moment now.

“Hey, Han, are you alright?”

He jumps and only the lump in his throat stops him from yelping when Joshua grabs his shoulder. He’s frowning.

“Sorry, is there anywhere my friend can sit down for a minute?”

He hears his friend speak but the words don’t really register in his mind. He lets himself be led to the side and sat down on a chair. He feels faint. His head is spinning. He barely hears whatever Joshua is saying.

He’s here.

He’s alive.

And in turn, his life makes you remember what it felt like to live.

You don’t need to breathe but in the instant you see him, you forget you ever could.

He looks different, but you’d recognize him anywhere.

His hair is longer. It looks good on him, framing his face like a dark halo. He looks like an angel. Did he come to save you?

The clothes he’s wearing make him seem out of place just like the rest of the group. Just a tourist in a place that he should call home. That he once did call home. You don’t recognize the man next to him, and your heart pangs. His friends used to be yours too.

You move closer without realizing. It feels like your entire body is pulsing with life long forgotten; with a heartbeat you no longer have.

He doesn’t look good.

He seems to feel unwell. The closer you get, the more it seems to hurt him. Love truly is violence.

The man next to him calls his name.

You repeat it. It’s different. It feels different on your tongue, yet it doesn’t feel unfamiliar. You suppose that just comes with the territory.

He looks like he’s about to lose consciousness. You can’t just watch him getting hurt.

You move closer, grabbing onto his arm the second before he can fall.

He doesn’t. Instead he suddenly straightens as shiver runs through his body. He seems disoriented when he looks through you. Almost like he can tell that’s where you are.

You’re dragged along with him by his friend. Even though you’re right in front of his face, he doesn’t see you. He looks like he’s about to faint. Pearls of cold sweat forming on his forehead, his teeth chattering and face deadly pale. His friend moves right through you when he crouches down in front of him.

“Jeonghan? Can you hear me?” he taps your lover’s leg without any reaction, “What’s going on?”

“Breathe,” you whisper. Like a magic trick, he does. He gasps for air like he’s drowning on dry land and his friend panics, shooting up to his feet and shaking his shoulder.

“Slowly. You don’t belong to me yet,” there’s a bitter smile on your face when again he follows your instructions. Not yet.

It’s a strange and nauseating feeling. You don’t wish him death, but you long to hold and be held. His soul recognizes yours, it yearns for you too. But will his heart? Would his heart?

“Shua?” Jeonghan asks, brows furrowed and eyes vacant. He looks dazed, the color still drained from his face.

“Han? Can you hear me?” the man - Shua - tries again.

“Yeah,” your lover rubs his face, “Yeah, sorry. I don’t know what happened.”

“You scared me, man,” the other man sighs, “How do you feel?”

“Good, I’m good now. Isn’t it cold here?” Jeonghan rubs his arms, trying to get the feeling back in them as he stands up. Shua looks ready to catch him if he loses strength again and you feel a sense of pride. He always knew to choose his friends well.

“Yeah, I guess it’s a bit chilly,” Shua responds, apprehensive, and clearly not trusting Jeonghan’s legs not to give up on him again.

“We should head up,” Jeonghan says and tries to orient himself. You can’t let him go. His friend frowns. The temperature didn’t change since they entered, only Jeonghan did - you did. You latch onto his arm. You hold him like he’s the ghost that could disappear at any moment.

His skin is warm under your touch. He shivers and looks at his arm, right where you hold him, before passing a hand over it. His fingers slip right through you. Nothing helps him chase away the cool sensation it seems.

“I’m not sure, Han,” Shua hesitates, “It’s pretty hot up there and you seem kind of… I don’t want you to feel worse because of the heat.”

“I’ll be fine,” Jeonghan manages a smile. The same smile you used to see every day.

“Are you sure? I don’t know about you but I can’t afford any hospital bill,” his friend jokes, earning himself an eye roll.

Tears burn at your eyes. His friends were always like that - caring, kind, but with a mischievous heart.

“Alright, lemme just check with the guide that it’s okay for us to just leave,” Shua finally concedes, seeing as your lover won’t budge. Jeonghan gives him a nod (and a smile when the man hesitates again - Jeonghan even sits down to finally get him going).

It’s just you and him.

He sighs. As he massages his arm to get some feeling back in it, his warm palm passes through you once more. He grimaces. Can he perhaps feel you? It doesn’t matter how little. Can he tell you’re with him? You know it’s selfish, so so selfish. But you crave acknowledgement. After so long, after waiting for so long…

He looks up, he looks in your direction - he’s still looking as confused and lost as before. A lost young man, a look you’ve seen on him before when he took you on a trip to the countryside. He always looked at you so fondly back then. And now he doesn’t see you at all. You want him to - as selfish and cruel as it is. As foolish as it is. You want it even though your heart would break. He’d be terrified. Perhaps he wouldn’t even recognize you. You don’t think he would but you hope, you wish. It’s not like you have any idea if the same feelings in your heart remained in his.

He keeps running his hand over his arm like an obsession, like he’s trying to ground himself. He massages it, he pokes at it, he pinches it. He must feel your touch somehow, he does - he just doesn’t recognize it, so can it really be said he feels it at all? You should let go. Whatever he feels, it’s not a pleasant feeling. But you can’t. You finally found him again. You can’t let go now. It’d be like letting go of the straw that keeps you from drowning.

“Jeonghan,” you try calling his new name aloud. A mere whisper.

Yet he whips his head up and gasps. His pupils shrink, his mouth hangs open in a silent scream. He freezes. Not a simple scare freeze - no, the type of fear rooted deep in human instinct, the fear of something unknown and unnatural, something that seems human but isn’t.

He meets your eyes. You truly think he does. His breath gets stuck in his chest.

“-aaand we’re clear to go!” Shua announces cheerfully, returning back in a rush - then he speeds up more when he sees Jeonghan, his face immediately falling. “Hey, you good?”

He needs to shake Jeonghan’s shoulder to get his friend to look at him. He gets no other reaction than a few blinks.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he tries to lighten the mood, although his brow is furrowed in worry.

Jeonghan is pale as a sheet. You notice he bites his tongue, he resolves himself to push back his true feelings - you’ve learned to read him like an open book. It only causes you more pain now.

“I just got a bit nauseous,” Jeonghan lies through his teeth, “I think I messed up my breakfast.”

“That’s why I keep telling you to consider the kitchen more of a decoration,” Shua huffs while he helps Jeonghan stand up, insists on it despite the other’s protests. He watches out for him even as he stands straight and steady.

“Let’s just go,” Jeonghan groans, “I think I should lie down.”

You don’t let go. You see his hand twitch as if he wants to touch his arm again but he stops himself.

You hang onto his arm. You haven’t managed to leave the buried remains of the past before, held back by an invisible force. It must’ve been fate looking out for you.

Or maybe it wasn’t, maybe you’re meant to haunt this place.

Whatever happens though, trapped here or not, you will hold onto him until the last second.

You hold your redundant breath as you’re all nearing the exit.

You’re carried out, anchored to your lover.

The sun shines through you.

“So, how did it go?” No surprise Jihoon is already back. They really should have bit the bullet and volunteered to drag him around. Looking back, Joshua really should’ve picked him over Jeonghan.

“Well…” Joshua hesitates and Jeonghan rolls his eyes.

His arms still feels off. It’s cold - he thought maybe it was the wind blowing directly at it once they came out of the underground. (Not a leaf moved on the ground, but Jeonghan will ignore the fact. Maybe he just offended the wind in some way.) Maybe there really was something wrong with him. Could he eat some parasite in his food lately? Maybe. Honestly he would take anything over what he saw down there. Anything over being possessed by a ghost. He has too many things to achieve. He cannot afford to lose control of his body; wailing and being creepy is bad for the business.

“I feel better now,” he pats Joshua’s shoulder. It’s not a lie - or it won’t be in a while, once he gets lost in work. His arm still feels cold. Occasionally the feeling skims over his skin like a ghostly touch. He doesn’t want to entertain that thought. “Nothing to worry about, I just got a little dizzy. Maybe I slept too little?”

He thinks aloud, overacting but it works to make Joshua sigh in exasperation and Jihoon nod in understanding. Of course he would understand.

“Look, just be careful, okay? We can get through one day without you, boss,” there’s a teasing lilt to Joshua’s voice when he calls him that but he coos at his friend anyway.

“Why don’t I start with the orders for tomorrow then, that’s easy enough,” he doesn’t wait for their agreement and instead goes to the back. Joshua will explain everything to Jihoon and he doesn’t necessarily need to be around for that. He knows they won’t protest if he takes on whatever he feels like, both a little too caring for their own good. That’s why he wants them to have easy lives, do well and be rich. A goal that will be a challenge if he starts losing his mind and seeing things suddenly. He shakes his head. Work. Focus on work and it’s gonna be fine.

And it is. They keep it cool in the back so the flowers don’t wilt as quickly. He would need to focus to feel the difference of temperatures on his body - so he won’t do that. He doesn’t need to think about much else while he prepares one bouquet after another, picking the right flowers, twisting stems together, tying bows… Although they should be getting ready for the festival and among other deals they have, they need to keep the core of the business running. It’s back to basics, but he loves it. He genuinely enjoys preparing the orders. Some of them are more specific than others, but he likes the artistic freedom of those in which he can just follow what occasion the bouquet is meant for and put his own twist to it. It’s an honor that so many people trust them to convey their feelings… or at least to create something pretty. He gets it, sometimes you just want to give someone a pretty flower without thinking about what it means.

He gets so into the work that he forgets about anything else and by the time Seokmin comes to get him, he’s done with everything.

“You were faking it, weren’t you?” Seokmin accuses once he sees all the orders that needed to be prepared for tomorrow done and stored away. Jeonghan rolls his eyes.

“Joshua is just too dramatic. You know him,” he sighs. His friend doesn’t seem convinced.

“Well, he looked really worried,” the younger man shifts on his spot nervously, “He said you looked like you’ll pass out. Like you saw a ghost.”

Jeonghan flinches a little. But he recovers quickly, gasping in a split second and hitting Seokmin’s shoulder lightly with a declaration of: “Don’t say scary things like that!”

Seokmin teases him for a while, but it’s fair enough. Jeonghan’s never been too scared of ghosts and such, never worried about being trapped underground forever - actually he doesn’t think there was ever a time his friends saw him scared, and the jokes remind him of that. Right. Ghosts aren’t real. He must’ve been just lightheaded or something. Maybe he’s more stressed about the planning than he realized previously.

“Right, I’ll do a coffee run, you want something?” Seokmin remembers, quickly getting to why he actually came.

“I’ll come with you, it’s hard to carry everything alone,” Jeonghan says as he washes his hands.

He thinks about grabbing the jacket he keeps at the shop, but thinks better of it. It’s windy outside and Seokmin suggests he returns for it, but he absolutely won’t. The cold feeling shifted, resting around his hand as if assuring him it’s not going anywhere. Hand in unlovable hand - who said that? He shakes his head. It’s easier to ignore the sensation with the wind blowing this and that way, and Seokmin is good at distracting him.

They talk about the results of Seokmin and Seungkwan’s “research” while they wait in line and for their order to be made. It seems they were about as successful as him and Joshua, so Jihoon is their biggest hope. Not that it matters, it’s unreasonable to think anyone at the festival would care about the historical accuracy of the flowers used as decorations, and their shop focuses on the symbolism anyway, but Jeonghan likes little details like that. Even if it makes their work much harder. It would be nice to have something traditional or local for the centerpiece at least.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Seokmin asks all of a sudden. It takes him by surprise, but soon the expression is replaced by a soft smile. He nods.

He’s not. But maybe the time he spends with his friends will help. Or maybe he’ll go mad and these are the last precious moments he has with them. Fortunately, the human mind isn’t capable of comprehending things in their entirety, and so even if his thoughts are gloomy, he can still smile. He’s grateful for that.

“It was nothing. Maybe phobias are like allergies?” Jeonghan suggests, wondering, “Maybe they can just pop up randomly or disappear.”

“So you think I could get over my fear of bugs?” Seokmin considers the idea seriously.

“I’ll give you a raise if you do,” Jeonghan smirks and easily dodges his friend’s elbow aimed at his ribs. This is definitely better than obsessing over something out of his control. Something that might be all in his head.

(He still looks over his shoulder as they exit the cafe.)

As they sit at the round table - as Seokmin jokes - it’s very obvious everyone had a great time but it wasn’t really a productive means of reaching their research goal. They skip only quickly over his and Joshua’s trip, everyone well familiar with its less than ideal ending.

Jihoon of course agrees that local flora of history would be a great research topic for a thesis, but for now the idea remains to be extensively explored in resources that could be found at local libraries. (The silver lining though, clearly, is the stack of books in his bag resting against the wall.)

Seungkwan and Seokmin, who visited the botanical garden, did manage to get some interesting and useful information. A little miracle nobody counted on happening. They also went above and beyond to ask the visitors of the park about their favorite flowers. (“To make it like it’s made for them!” they claim, although the notion is as ridiculous as it is cute.)

Jeonghan enjoys listening to his friends, he really does. His eyes hurt with the effort to keep them on the person talking, always switching. He’s trying. But he’s so nauseous that it feels like he’s being continuously punched in the stomach.

His head feels like it’s full of cotton and fog, not a single thought forms itself in its entirety. All of them are just incoherent, broken pieces littering his mind. Jeonghan has never dived in his entire life, but he thinks he knows what it feels like now. He feels as though an entire ocean is pressing down on him. The meeting can’t end soon enough - as much as he loves listening to the chaos.

His friends fortunately aren’t blind and with all of them being aware of his almost collapse earlier, they don’t take long to catch on to Jeonghan not feeling his best. It takes some convincing that he’ll be fine, that he just needs to eat and rest, even as he’s putting all his strength into not doubling over and curling into fetal position to ease the sudden sinking fear gripping his entire body. They follow him the entire way to his door just upstairs. It’s comical, him and his four little ducklings. It eases the tension in his body and the fear, but he would lie if he said he doesn’t prefer to isolate himself whenever he’s not feeling well. He’s strong enough to lie and tell them he’ll be fine on his own.

The door closes behind him with what feels like finality. It feels like he just closed the door to his old life, though he wouldn’t hesitate to say it feels like he left his old world - whatever that means when there’s no other world. His apartment looks like it always did, like it did when he left this morning. It feels like that was eternity ago - he can summon the memories of his excitement, the energy he felt. There’s none left in him now.

He lets his bag fall to the floor and lay there. He doesn’t bother to hang up his keys and lets them rest on the little shelf next to some trinkets the guys brought back from their holidays over the years.

He drags himself to the living room and throws himself down on the sofa. He’s staring at the white ceiling, watches the stripes of lights and shadows following one after another where the glow of the street lamp is blocked by his blinds. It’s too quiet.

He should wash up. There are many things he should do, actually, but he has no strength or will to get up. His stomach feels uncomfortable and his muscles are tense. That probably doesn’t help with how he’s feeling. He takes a couple deep breaths, slows down his breathing even if it feels like he’s going to pass out.

His head throbs, but it’s better than the nausea twisting his stomach. He thinks he’ll faint soon, something bad is bound to happen to him, his body overcome with heat, then cold, all within a minute. His breathing is getting heavier. He tries closing his eyes, searching for any small relief. Instead he’s more aware of his body.

Something tells him to move, something so primal he doesn’t dare to disobey. Like his own body knows if something doesn’t happen right now, he’s gonna die. He groans when he pushes himself up, clinging to the back of the couch. He needs water. He makes it to the bathroom, supporting himself on the walls. It only gets worse. It keeps getting worse and worse and he’s lightheaded.

He holds himself up against the sink and turns on the water. It feels icy against his skin, but that’s what he needs. He splashes his face with it, and the relief is slow but it’s there. He drinks out of his palms and the cold water sliding down his throat helps. He’s nauseous still, he feels dizzy, but not on the verge of breakdown.

At least that’s until he looks up.

The mirror on the wall shows two reflections.

He shrieks so loud his throat burns despite the cold water sticking to it.

He thinks he blacks out for a second.

But when he opens his eyes, he’s still standing in his bathroom. His hands are cramped, curled around the edges of the sink so that he doesn’t fall.

The mirror still shows another person behind him.

His own shriek resonates in his head and his throat burns more at the memory.

Part of him wishes that what he saw looked like a monster. Something straight out of a horror movie, something inhumane. But it’s just a person. Barely there, a shadow of a human being. Something that isn’t there when he turns to looks back.

He closes his eyes tightly and only blinks them open after a few long minutes. He doesn’t know what he expected, but what he feels is a resignation. Something in him gives up when the person doesn’t disappear when he looks into the mirror again. He refuses to check if something hasn’t changed and the stranger hasn’t manifested in his home - he’s seen enough horror movies for that. He’d rather keep his eyes on the reflection.

“I lost my mind,” he laughs, his head hanging between his shoulders. Tears pool in his eyes. Was it stress? Was it karma for the pranks he played? What was it that finally did him in?

He looks up and the ghost is wearing a sad smile. As if it’s pitying him. He laughs again. Even the creation of his own shattering mind thinks him a pathetic clown.

“You should sleep,” a voice says, and at the same time: “I should sleep.” He says.

He hears it, but it takes a second to comprehend that the echo of his voice wasn’t truly his voice, but some other, second voice. The ghostly figure behind him never moved its lips. Never moved. Never spoke. It just keeps staring.

Has he seen the face before?

The underground flashes in front of his eyes. The split-second trick of the light he saw there. Goosebumps erupt all over his body. Could it be the same face?

Surely he just saw something, some picture - the picture on the tour? It must be a waking nightmare, just a stranger’s face he saw once. It’s said you never forget a face you’ve seen and this must be it. Maybe he slept less than he thought. He must be exhausted, his body must be shutting down. That’s why he’s losing it. His vision starts swimming. He’s dizzy from staring at the figure so intensely.

Something like sleep paralysis maybe? He’s awake but ready to pass out from exhaustion. That must be it.

“Sleep,” he speaks again, and like before, there’s the echo of the second voice. He’s sure it’s just his sleep paralysis demon speaking. He’s pathetic enough that even demons would pity him.

Sleep… He needs to go to sleep. That much is obvious. But sleep seems like the stupid thing to do. He rubs his face again, splashes more cold water on it, but the ghost doesn’t disappear. So he does the unthinkable.

He turns around suddenly. So suddenly his head hurts and he almost loses his balance. He winces, but there is no one. No solid figure, no ghastly figure, nothing. Cautiously, he reaches forward, but he feels nothing. There’s the need to check the mirror again gnawing at the back of his mind, but he doesn’t. Instead he turns off the light so he can’t see at all. He extends his hand again but still - nothing. He takes a couple deep breaths and bolts.

He’s stumbling and banging against the walls, but he makes it to his bedroom. He jumps on his bed, covers his body with a blanket and pants. His body is shivering, trembling, tight like his every muscle is cramped. It’s hard to breathe, the lump in his throat taking up too much space, the air can’t get through. He remembers the phone in his pocket and takes it out. It lights up and he can finally see again.

It’s just him under the blanket. Only his body and nothing else. He sits up again. It makes him dizzy, the blanket falls. The phone lights up the room but it’s empty. It’s just him.

He sighs.

He falls back, staring at the ceiling like he did before. The nausea is gone for the most part, and now that he’s lying down, he doesn’t feel like he’s gonna pass out in the next second. There is only the dread and anxiety left that make him lightheaded and wide awake despite the exhaustion. He knows his body will give out before his mind does, but that’s worse. He knows it’s gonna create nasty nightmares to haunt him, and it’s the last thing he needs today. He honestly feels like crying. He feels like calling someone - but what’s he gonna say? ‘Hey, I think I saw a ghost in my bathroom, can you come over?’ That sounds way too pathetic. It’s too late to ask anyone to come over, and to ask if they could stay over too. At least without a good reason. He knows he can rely on his friends, knows they wouldn’t ask questions and be there within minutes, but his pride won’t allow it. And looking like he does - he can imagine the mess that he is right now - they might not ask, but they’d be worried. Jeonghan doesn’t want that above all.

So he takes a couple of deep breaths. If there is a ghost in his bathroom… If there is a ghost anywhere, if he is possessed… What’s he supposed to do about it at midnight? Nothing. There’s nothing he can do.

He reasons with himself. He’s exhausted. He can feel his very bones weighing him down, and he already had some sort of breakdown earlier on the tour. Must be stress. Must be hunger - he doesn’t feel hungry at all, but except for breakfast, did he eat anything the whole day? He can only remember the breakfast and the toast Seungkwan basically forced down his throat. Must be that he’s starving. Must be the lack of sleep. Even though he felt energized, that doesn’t mean he was. His body must’ve lied to him - and now his own eyes and mind are lying to him. That must be it. There’s no way ghosts exist.

He turns to his side and checks the calendar. It shouldn’t be too busy tomorrow, that should give them plenty of chances to brainstorm about the festival some more. He focuses on that. The festival. The orders they should get done tomorrow. All the practical and necessary day-to-day things. He should get some groceries too. A warm, home cooked meal would do him good, even if it was something simple that he cooked. It all must’ve been just exhaustion and hunger.

He lets the screen go dark. He can barely make out his reflection in the dim light coming in through the window. Only his reflection. That soothes him a little. He can’t keep his eyes open anymore anyway. He listens to the sounds of the apartment and everything sounds as it should. No movement, no steps, no doors making funny sounds. He’ll laugh about it in the morning. He’ll tell the guys and they’ll laugh about it together. That’s how it’s gonna be. He allows himself a tiny smile.

Just a sleep paralysis that came too early.

Errors happen even in the human body.

That’s just how it is.

You watch him fall asleep.

You don’t have a body, yet it feels like you do all the same. The pain feels real, even if it doesn’t have anywhere to anchor itself to. Passing points, your own ghosts of neurons shooting signals to each other in a messed up web all over your being. You are a nebula of pain.

It was obvious what’s going to happen. You knew it well. Yet it left your heart shattered on his bathroom floor.

What hurts more - the terror in his eyes or that he doesn’t recognize you? Well, he has his own life now, one without you, so you suppose there’s only so many memories he can carry with himself. And you simply have no place among them.

It hurts. You want to scream, but you can’t - not in a way that would bring relief. And what if he hears you? In what universe could you endure seeing more of his panic? You know the answer.

Seeing him so exhausted hurt you too. Was it hard carrying you around? Bringing a second soul probably leaves a toll on the body just like carrying another body would. You wished to speak to him, but how could you utter a word when seeing you made him react the way he did. You don’t want him to lose his mind. You’ll have to be smart. You don’t want to hurt him more than you’re already doing. You can carry the hurt of the situation, you can withstand the hurt he causes you because it’s not his fault. Not his fault at all. Not yours either, you think, you hope, but you definitely have more power here. You comfort yourself with the knowledge you could probably talk to him. Just not tonight when the fear is fresh.

You move closer to him, gently move some of his hair away from his face as if you were a cold breeze blowing in through the window. He looks angelic. His features are much softer than you remember, but he’s as handsome as he always was. You lie down beside him, admiring him in his sleep. It’s not gonna be a restful night. You see the first frown twist his face, and it stabs you right in your chest. You can’t protect him from nightmares, but you’ll share the pain.

Even if he won’t know.

“Wow,” Jihoon exclaims the moment he sees him, “You look-”

“- awful.”

“- like shit.”

Both Seokmin and Joshua pipe in. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

As expected, the night wasn’t kind to him at all. Well, perhaps he could find some silver lining in the fact that despite the night being quite hot, he was so exhausted he didn’t even notice. And despite the nightmares and the heat, he didn’t wake up sweaty and disgusting.

Anyway, he didn’t have the courage to wander into his bathroom and avoided mirrors like the plague, so he probably looks a mess anyway.

(It was pathetic enough to crawl on the floor and blindly feel for his toothbrush and toothpaste on the sink without really stepping inside. To take a shower there was out of the question. Okay, maybe he was a little disgusting.)

“I couldn’t sleep well,” he shrugs, “Neighbours decided to have a party.”

The young couple living in the apartment above his own were actually the ideal neighbors, but that was good - with no reason to talk about them much, the lie would go unnoticed. He got several understanding nods in response.

“And… you feeling okay?” Seungkwan asks, and he’s once again touched by his friends’ concern that is mirrored on all three faces.

“Yeah,” he tries a small smile, “Would be better if I got actual sleep but it is what it is.”

“You can sneak out during lunch break, we won’t tell the boss,” Seokmin gives him an exaggerated wink. He scoffs, but smiles anyway. It’s genuine.

This is better. Normal is better. Last night feels like a fever dream compared to this. Just a joke played on him by his exhausted body and mind. He’s still shaken by it, though, the cracks it left in his confidence in himself and what reality is are still too sharp to joke about it. He hopes that by tomorrow he gets some quality sleep and his shit together.

“Anyway, let’s get to work so Friday isn’t a pain in the ass,” he claps, rolling his eyes at Seungkwan’s mock salute.

He’s more grateful than he could ever express for these guys. The nightmare of last night is easily forgettable and written off as a glitch in the matrix with them around.

When a cold breeze circles and brushes around his wrist though, as if lingering like a lover’s touch, he shivers and breaks out in cold sweat anyway. He turns around. He sees nothing.

As it should be.

(Then why does he feel the hairs at the back of his neck stand up?)

You’ve always admired his hard working nature. The honesty and dedication with which he works. It’s quite the change from the man you used to know back then - you’d never think you’ll get to see him one day selling flowers, but it seems to suit the present day version of him. Very little of him changed in the aspects that matter. Bodies are no more than a shell to be eventually discarded - or that’s how you came to think of them over your short experience of being just a wandering soul.

You’re careful not to hover too close too often. He flinches any time the wind blows in, even if it’s a work of nature and not your touch. And so you lost your excuse to touch him. It still makes you uneasy to keep your distance. Your heart is filled with anxiety whenever you lose contact with him, terrified of being dragged back into the underground by the same mysterious power that allowed you to leave when you latched onto him.

Jeonghan’s friends watch him closely - trying to be as inconspicuous as they can to go unnoticed by him. Yet he does notice them, smiling a little to himself. He seems troubled but he hides it well. At least from everyone who can’t float around him and see him when nobody is looking. It pains your heart, it really does. But it can’t be helped - you can’t help it. Your instinct screams to stay close to your lover after what, decades - centuries? No way you’re letting him disappear from you now.

It’s painful to watch him be cautious and on guard, to be the only one aware of it, and the only one on the receiving end of this icy attitude. You don’t blame him. But it hurts. You’re tempted, oh so tempted, to take advantage of the moments when he speaks to his friends, moments when you know he’d fake being alright, to touch him. To wrap your arms around him and hold him. Just for a second.

He’s yours. Can’t he see? Can’t he feel it? His soul is yours, yours is his. Doesn’t he know?

It makes you angry. Some part of you is furious with him for not feeling the tug of your bond. It’s so deeply interwoven in your heart, bound to your very existence. Why else would you be awakened to your afterlife if not to meet him? To be one with him again?

And he doesn’t even bother to care about you.

All he seems to care about is how repulsive your touch is to him. When he’s left alone in the room, he turns around helplessly, desperately searching for something that is not there, yet something that makes his skin crawl, that invades his space, that he can’t run away from.

Why would he run?

His eyes are wide and panicked, teary. You can see yourself in their reflection and you feel shame that makes you draw back.

But he’s still scared. He doesn’t know you back away from him.

He’s still backing himself into a corner, or against a wall, or a desk, or against soft blooming flowers that stop him in his tracks. And then you are reminded of his gentle touch and tender caresses and you want to weep.

He might be terrified of the summer breeze, but he never harms the flowers. He stops himself before he can knock them over.

You’re a monster, and it hurts. You’re a monster but it hurts. You’re a monster despite and because it hurts. Being a ghost cannot possibly be described in any other way than the simple statement I am in pain.

You don’t want to hurt him. Yet it seems that’s all you can do.

You’re angry and you’re hurt, your emotions come and go like the waves at the sea.

And he’s hiding it all so well, acting like he lost his balance when his friends start returning. He laughs, pretty and bright. Like he was never on the verge of tears.

Truth be told though, it’s hard. He wants to break down, but he can’t and he won’t. Jeonghan won’t let them see him cry, he won’t tell them anything. He’ll let them tease him, he’ll whine at them. He’ll laugh. It’s important as a business owner to be able to act, to pretend. It’s what he’s always done. He doesn’t need help. He can do this.

It’s harder to let the work swallow him whole, however. He feels eyes on him. Hand frozen just a breath away from his skin. It makes him jumpy, but fortunately that can be easily written off and joked about as just him dozing off. It wouldn’t be the first time lack of sleep made him act weird, and for once he’s glad for that. At the same time, though, it stings.

He wants to be comforted, to be reassured. At the same time, he doesn’t want his friends to be concerned about something that might just be his mind playing tricks on him. But it really doesn’t feel like a joke anymore. He can’t explain it; the impending sense of doom, like he’s about to have a heart attack. The fear so strong and urgent it enables him to act with absolute serenity. Jeonghan knows it’s not just the exhaustion - which means that yesterday was no play of the shadows in his bathroom either. It makes him nauseous all over again. It makes the scent of flowers overwhelming.

He makes it through the maintenance and prep for tomorrow with only a few tiny hiccups. Mostly due to the efforts of his friends to keep him entertained. He wonders if he’ll ever be able to thank them. They might quite literally be saving his life - or his sanity at the very least. But isn’t it the same thing at the end of the day - his life and his ability to comprehend that he’s living this life.

After the necessary is done at a record pace, a couple hours earlier than it would take under normal circumstances, they sit down according to plan to brainstorm. It’s more fun now that they abandoned the pressure of sticking to tradition and history - which in hindsight should be obvious to be impossible. It’s not like even if they wanted to, even if they could, it would be viable to only use the local wildflowers for all the decor.

Jihoon also shocks everyone when, unlike Seungkwan, he provides the list of artists and other entertainers who’ll be present at the festival. (“What? I have friends too, you know,” he scoffs when everyone turns to look at him with their mouths hanging open and Seungkwan grumbling to himself.)

Most of the musicians are local and undiscovered artists, but it helps with imagining the vibe the festival will have. It’s starting to come together when they look up the official program and list of activities that will be available. Surprisingly it seems that it truly aims to celebrate the city’s history, if one’s willing to look past the few necessary activities for children that are planned. And memories, remembering, cherishing, all that is so easy to express through flower language.

A little too easy.

And Jeonghan is yet again grateful to his friends for a thing he’d find a little annoying any other day.

“We don’t have to have it figured out today,” he tries to join the conversation again, tries to steer it in a more productive direction. It’s hardly a conversation anymore, rather a contest of who can be the loudest. Jeonghan’s eyes meet with Jihoon’s who shrugs and lifts the paper in front of him. There’s a rough drawing of what looks like possible table decoration with arrows and names pointing to individual flowers that Jeonghan can’t make out through the flurry of hands thrown around in wild gestures. Jihoon mouths a what do you think? to him anyway, although he can’t quite respond.

He runs a hand through his hair just as Seungkwan scolds Joshua for apparently making the centerpiece look too much like a funeral decoration.

If something really has possessed him, he wonders what the entity must be thinking…

“Jeonghan was saying something,” Jihoon grumbles out of nowhere, and even though Jeonghan himself could barely make out what the other was saying, the room goes quiet and all the four heads turn in his direction. He sighs. Like he needs more eyes on him. At least these he can see.

“We don’t have to get everything finalized today,” Jeonghan reminds everyone and starts picking different colored highlighters from the table. He swipes different colors over the individual items on the list of everything they were contracted to provide. He tries to be fair with the division of labor and closely monitors the reaction when he slides the paper further down the table for everyone to check out.

“I think it’s best if everyone picks out something and comes up with ideas for that,” Jeonghan suggests, “We have enough time, so let’s meet about it in two weeks. And if you have any ideas for the other things, write them down too.”

“Do you want to pick first?” Seokmin asks but Jeonghan shakes his head.

“I’m fine with whatever,” he waves them off. It’s not like he could get himself to consider and focus right now. Honestly he can’t be sure yet how big of a deal whatever’s happening to him is, so it’s better this way. If there’s a risk of him not doing as good of a job as he could, why take something one of the guys would enjoy?

He watches with fond eyes as his friends bicker over the colors more seriously than the tasks. He spins the pen he’s holding between his fingers. The eyes he feels on his back constantly never disappear but somehow it seems like he’s not the main focus now. Is he losing his mind for real? Jeonghan rubs his eyes.

It’s like he can feel it. Like he can feel something hover around. He doesn’t see anything, truth be told he doesn’t feel anything unless… It feels foolish to say until it touches him because there’s nothing there but there’s no better way to explain it. If that something was a person, he can feel their gaze shifting. If it was a person, who could it be? He made his fair share of mistakes in his life, but he doesn’t think he’s ever hurt anyone enough for them to haunt him.

“Well, that leaves the centerpiece for you,” Joshua slides the paper back to him. He whines.

“Is it because Seungkwan hates your idea?” Jeonghan complains. He doesn’t care, not much anyway (although it does put a lot of pressure on him), as long as they’re happy but he is worried. It’s a big responsibility, and if this whole issue he’s having will drag on, can he do a good job? He doesn’t want to let them down.

“It’s because you’re the owner. You should be the star,” Seungkwan pushes at his shoulder. Jeonghan hopes his smile is convincing enough. He hopes they’ll read the anxiety only for the half of the worries they’re meant to see.

“Always being nice to me only when it’s convenient, I see,” he sighs, shaking his head. At least he can smile for real now. At least he can forget somewhat about the eyes when he play-fights with them.

They throw around ideas for a while longer and go through the timeline again - when is the next meeting with the organizers, when are they going to need to make the order, when to start with the work. That’s gonna be the main issue - to manage everything in time along with the other jobs they have. It’s not like there aren’t ways to get around it, but it’s another huge thing on Jeonghan’s plate to figure out.

It’s not exactly a tiring day and all things considered, Jeonghan feels quite refreshed when he makes it home. Mostly because Joshua insists on hanging out with him for a while, so that takes away the anxious edge he feels about coming home. Still, he thinks it must be because the other man worries about his breakdown yesterday and it irritates him a little.

He doesn’t even know a half of it - if he knew the whole story, Jeonghan’s positive Joshua would treat him differently. Like a freak. Then the guilt hits. Joshua is too kind for his own good and Jeonghan’s paranoid. Of course his best friend would try to understand, he’d probably help him come up with a logical solution and offer support. It’s just Jeonghan’s mind trying to isolate him like it always does when he’s going through something. He wishes he could blame it on whatever nightmare he’s dreamed up, but he really can’t.

Once the door closes behind Joshua, Jeonghan feels like his heart dropped into his stomach. He can’t swallow. He can barely breathe. Not that there’s anything preventing him, but he can’t set any rhythm to taking breaths that would allow him not to choke. He’s gasping for breath, his ears ringing.

The eyes are on him.

They were the whole time, but he could push it to the back of his mind. Now it’s all coming back to him in full force.

He can feel them, burning into his back.

When he turns around, there will be nothing there.

He does, slowly, hesitantly, eyes glued to the floor. It takes all his will power to look up.

Nothing.

He smiles bitterly. At this point he’d prefer it if he was hallucinating as well. He wants to see that thing that he saw in the bathroom yesterday. Anything that would make it more real and less like a delusion brought on by a sudden attack of claustrophobia. Because he’s not going insane. He won’t lose his mind from a silly visit of a historical site that Joshua brought him on.

Then a thought hits him - what if Joshua finds out about it somehow? If his best friend ever learns about what Jeonghan is going through, he’ll feel guilty. Like he’s not already beating himself over that sudden spell of nausea that overcame him then and over Jeonghan’s exhaustion and weakness.

He has to solve this. He has to figure it out, at least. Make any kind of first step of getting rid of this. Yesterday, he could easily dismiss it as a punishment for pushing himself too much - what else could he do? It was late, he needed to sleep. His own body protected him from the horrors that he can’t avoid today in the daylight. Sure, he’s still exhausted, but it simply doesn’t make sense.

Nothing makes sense. There’s no reason for him to have a psychotic break, so why? Why is this happening right when he most needs to be in a good condition? His fists clench and unclench, his jaw set. His eyes burn holes into the air in front of him. He can feel something there. He knows it’s there. He doesn’t understand why, he doesn’t understand what he’s dealing with, but he’s going to figure it out. Now.

Jeonghan struts into the bathroom and in the mirror - nothing. Only him. He takes a couple of deep angry breaths that sound too loud in the silent bathroom.

Not a speck of dust stirs. There’s no breeze. No cold ghostly touches brushing against his skin. If it was a dream, a trick of his exhausted body and mind, so be it. But he needs to be sure.“Show yourself,” he spits, “If there’s anything - anyone - following me, show yourself right now.”

#seventeen imagines #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan scenarios #svthub #svthub.collab #seventeen angst #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen reactions #jeonghan angst #svt scenarios #svt reactions #svt angst #fanfic #angst

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slasherx · 4 months

Note

Can you write a thing where the reader is meeting Thomas Hewitt's family for the first time(can be like a victim he liked and decided not to kill or like the reader was met somewhere else), please?

Gender neutral reader, please!

This might be repetitive to other fanficitions, but okay!

Content: Thomas Hewitt x gn!Reader

Warnings: None

Notes: 98% intro, 2% Thomas LMAO also I wanted the reader to actually like her friends rather than just "I hate these people why did I come here ugh"

• ───────────────── •

Cramped in a van with four other people was not how you wanted to spend your summer. Your group had driven all the way from home and planned to go to Mexico for a vacation. As poor college students, none of you could really afford plane tickets, so this was the only other option. You just couldn't wait to get out of this van and start enjoying your summer break.

You were currently driving on a long stretch of road in bumfuck nowhere, Texas. The rest of your group was asleep behind you, draped over each other. Keeping an eye on the gas gauge, you realized you were low on gas. Internally panicking, you start searching for signs about gas stations, but you quickly realize that that probably wont happen.

But, as if something answered your prayers, an establishment began to make itself known in the distance. The closer you got the more you realized it was a gas station. A really old one, but a gas station nonetheless. Pulling into it and parking next to a pump, the sudden stop of the van made your friends wake up.

One of the girls, Laura, looked around and began to speak. "Where are we, (Y/n)?"

"Somewhere in Texas. I'm just going to get us some gas and then we'll be off." You answered, moving to get out of the car.

One of the guys, Todd, moved Laura's arm off of him. "I'll go with you, this seems like a shady place."

Appreciating your friends' precaution, you waited for him to get out first before heading inside the gas station with him. It was run down, and clearly had a lot of outdated knick knacks like newspapers. It smelled entirely of cigarette smoke and old wood.

"How many snacks are left in the bag?" Todd asked you quietly.

"Enough." You answered back, just as quiet.

"Go find some candy, I'll pay for the gas." Todd offered.

"You sure?"

"Positive. Let's just get out of here asap. I have a bad feeling." Todd moved towards the counter, where you noticed an old woman smoking a cigarette behind the register.

You moved through the different shelves, deciding what Laura, Todd, Evan and Terry would want. You weren't paying attention though and bumped into something massive. It felt like a brick wall and you moved back some before looking at what - or who - you bumped into.

It was a behemoth of a man, with dark wavy hair, dark eyes, and a dark mask over the lower half of his face. His shoulders broad - no, everything about him was broad. Everything sure was bigger in Texas.

"I'm so sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going." You spoke to the man. "I won't bump into you again, my bad."

The man, Thomas, was not used to this behavior. If it were anyone else, they would have told him to watch where he was going. As he watched you survey the shelves past him, he decided to be nice back to you. He tapped your shoulder and expected you to slap him, but you just turned and looked at him.

Even your gaze was kind, albeit a bit wary. He held out his hand, in which was a couple candy bars. They were the last ones that hadn't gone bad, but you didn't need to know that.

"Oh! Thank you." You smiled and took them from his hand. "I don't think I caught your name, kind stranger."

Thomas tapped his throat and shook his head. You were confused for a second but got the hint. "Oh...you can't speak?"

Thomas nodded, but then remembered he had a notepad in his pocket. Pulling that out, he scribbled his name and shoved it in your face. You read it, and smiled. "My name is (Y/n)."

"(Y/n), c'mon, we're leaving." Todd yelled from the register, peeking around one of the shelves. "Who is that?"

"This is Thomas, I just met him." You smiled, walking over to Todd.

"Hi Thomas." Todd waved halfheartedly. "Well, c'mon, gas is paid for. We gotta go."

"Alright." You nodded, then turned to the behemoth of a man, knowing you'd likely never see him again. "It was nice meeting you, Thomas."

The old lady behind the register, Luda Mae, was going to be damned if you weren't part of Thomas' life. She would make sure you and Thomas meet again, even if by nefarious means.

• ───────────────── •

Here's my masterlist, in case you like what you see and want to request more!

#thomas hewitt x reader #slashers #slashers x reader #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x y/n #thomas hewitt x you

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poisonous-honey · 8 months

Text

Soul Crushing Guilt

(This is a re-upload: Originally posted to UniverseUchu on December 2nd, 2022)

You've treated them all like toys. In your defence this was just another video game to you a couple of weeks ago, but they're actually real with thoughts and feelings of their own. You don't know how to feel.

Who’s Here! Venti

Contains: isekai reader, Self Aware Genshin (not the Cult SAGAU), Insecurities (reader), Hurt/Comfort I guess it’s called

Note: I will say this takes place in the middle of a story, but it works on its own and I really liked how this turned out. I do have more written, but it's incomprehensible (even after a whole year it's still incomprehensible lmao)

Sitting on the cliffside of Starsnatch is not where you intended to be at this time, but your guilt and insecurities have led you here. You needed to be away from all the positivity from everyone in Mondstadt. Their kindness was only worsening your mood. Staring over the edge, lost deep inside your head, you almost miss the way the wind whirls around you before you hear the one person you wanted to avoid the most right now.

“There you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Why’d you leave without saying anything? Everyone back at Mond is worried, you know.”

You don’t say anything in response and let Venti walk up and sit next to you. You both stay silent and watch the waves crash onto the beach. Venti occasionally takes glances in your direction, but for the most part his eyes are on the scenery. After a few minutes, he tries asking you again.

“I know you told us that we aren’t overwhelming you, but please, if we actually are-”

“That’s not the reason I left Venti.”

“Then what is it?”

Silence is all that greets him. “Please, we just want you to be comfortable with us. We can’t help if we don’t know.”

Hearing him say that only makes you feel more guilty. They’re all so nice to you, and for what? The pressure and the guilt keeps building and building the more you stay here. Everyone’s been so understanding and kind, but all you’ve done before is use them any which way. You’ve judged them for superficial reasons and have even gotten them killed on numerous occasions. Venti showing up and putting the blame on himself and the others like they’re the reason you left just adds onto your shame as tears start to escape your eyes.

Upon seeing your eyes water, Venti slightly panics. “W-Wait, why are you crying!? I’m sorry for whatever-”

“Venti please stop.”

You turn to look Venti in the eyes, and see the panic and worry etched onto his face. It only makes you feel worse.

“Venti… Why are you here? Why do you keep following me?’ You look away from him, trying to keep from balling on the spot. ‘Why are you so nice to me?”

Hearing this, Venti’s face slowly scrunches in confusion. “What do you mean? Of course, I’m going to be nice to you. Where is this coming from?”

“You were conscious the entire time I was playing. I used you all like you were dolls for my amusement. After I got you, didn’t you feel like I was holding you captive or-or like some sort of toy forced to do my bidding? I don’t understand why no one hates me! I feel so guilty of everything I’ve said and done, but everyone’s apologizing to me like they’re in the wrong, and I don’t get it! Especially you! As the God of Freedom, don’t you hate me for taking away your own freedom from you? I just don’t understand… So why…” Unable to continue, you look away as you try to wipe your eyes and wait for Venti to finally tell you he hates you. That he’s going to stop pretending and get up and leave you alone. In your mind you know he would never, that's not who he is, but fear and anxiety is irrational.

Your breath hitches as you feel his hands land on your cheeks and turn your head to look at him. Instead of the disgust or apathy your heart was expecting, Venti’s face is filled with sorrow.

“I can’t believe you would think so low of me.’ He looks downwards and wipes away a few tears with his thumbs before looking back at you with nothing but care. ‘I guess from your point of view that’s a reasonable assumption to make, but you seem to be forgetting one key detail.”

You stare at him as he proceeds to give you the smuggest look you’ve ever seen on him. “I came home extremely early on my banner, didn’t I?”

What he’s saying doesn’t make any sense to you. He’s already treating you extremely differently than you anticipated, and now his question is putting your already malfunctioning brain into overdrive. What did his banner have to do with anything?

“What? Venti I-I don’t understand. What are you trying to…’ Finally, it all starts to click into place as your eyes widen, and his stupid grin gets larger. ‘You… Did you influence the banner wishes???”

Venti laughs joyously as he lets go of your face. His eyes sparkle like he’s recounting the best moment of his life.

“Why yes, I did! I actually got in a lot of trouble for that! It's part of the reason you lost the next 50/50, but I couldn’t miss the chance to join your team. I refused to wait another second.”

“But why? I still don’t under-”

“I have the freedom to make my own choices, do I not? I wanted to join your team, so I did.”

His expression changes from smug to such a soft look. You have a hard time believing it is being directed at you.

“Why, yes, I may be the God of Freedom, but I’m also simply one of the many characters this game has to offer. I’m one of your many characters in particular. And out of such a colourful cast of individuals, I was your favourite. To be the reason someone even downloaded our game in the first place sends me over the moon. For everyone else, you still give their lives a purpose and have earned everyone’s respect. Sure, you might be a bit crass, but even when you were rude or made a mistake, you still treated everyone with more care than necessary. I especially could feel and hear the level of adoration you had for me through the screen. To me, there’s nothing I want more than to travel by your side for as long as you’ll have me.”

Such a heartwarming and earnest speech from Venti has your eyes start to water again. Not all of your insecurities and guilt have been lifted, you don’t think that kind of guilt will be something you can get rid of, but with Venti here…

“You’re allowed to stay for as long as you want.”

He cups your cheeks again while looking straight into your eyes.

“Then till death do we part, my dear player.”

You break down and cry as Venti pulls you in for a hug. With Venti by your side, you know he’ll help you through your guilt with as much care and love as you’ve given him.

#sagau #self aware genshin #Venti x reader #Genshin x reader #x reader #self-indulgence ftw baby #I don’t know if I’m going to post more of this #If I am I’ll make a header to organize just a little bit #I really love what I have #but I’d need to heavily edit it because what I actually have written down is nigh incomprehensible #Pois.Posts #Pois.Writes

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anxious-lee · 8 months

Text

|| Huskerdust Tickle Headcanons ||

A/N: I know I'm kind of a one-trick pony with these two but like someone has to suffer for these queers right

-------

Husk:

- switch

- not big on lying but WILL lie about being ticklish

- unless you're angel

- only after the cat is out of the bag (😄✋️🫳) will he admit it (begrudgingly)

- not SUPER ticklish, but if you persist long enough, he'll go hysterical

- most ticklish spots are his wing pits and belly

- angel once was planting kisses on husk's tum and husk had to tell him to cut it out because it tickled; angel then proceeded to go FULL HAM on the kisses

- equal parts embarrassed of his ticklishness and annoyed by it; angel gets him to appreciate it though eventually 🥰

- will fight for his life to keep from laughing, but depending on how long you tickle him, he's probably gonna lose

- laughs start out as deep, rumbly, chuckles then further escalates into high pitched giggling and then finally culminates in breathy, wheezy, snorts and cackles

- tickling seems a little too flirtatious for him, so he doesn't like it unless it's with a significant other (angel dust)

- if you tickle his neck very lightly or like with a feather, his whole body of fur stands up on end lmao; picture a cat that got struck by lightning

- won't admit to angel how much he enjoys getting wrecked unless he's in a delirious state; after a good and thorough tickling, husk might say "how much he needed that" in between gasps of air

- the little yellow heart on his foot-paws are VERY ticklish!! Do not touch them unless you want to get kicked in the face

- will panic if you restrain him, pin him down semi-firmly instead 😊

- purrs when tickled

- flaps his wings too

- PURRS WHEN TICKLED

- he loves to be a ler for his boyfriend, its like his other favorite thing (beside getting tickled obvi)

- is very conscientious of angel's harmful past and takes very good care not to overstep any boundaries

- with that low, rumbling voice you KNOW he's a vicious teaser

- teases angel with smug or sarcastic comments ("you're not doing a very good job of pretending to get away" "maybe this'll teach you to stop pesterin' me while I work" "'wait?' wait for what? because you and I both know. you. love. this")

- claws are his primary tickle weapons, but his feathers and tail plumage are excellent helpers

- never takes his smouldering eyes off of angel, which drives the poor man crazy

- when he's not doing the usual pin down method, he's a big fan of the hug-from-behind tickles as a ler

- the kind of tickler to stay at your weakest (or favorite) spot and tickle it till you're all good and laughed out

- finishes each tickle session with angel with attentive aftercare, the gentleness of which one wouldn't expect from husk

- they have a safeword established but even still husk stops immediately after hearing the word "stop"; this reassures angel that husk values his consent but it also makes it pretty inconvenient when angel cries it out accidentally and then is like "actually could you keep going please? 😗👉👈" husk: 😑

Angel:

- lee-leaning switch

- like 90% lee I would say

- LOVES to be tickled

- will NEVER admit it

- it's one thing for him to say tickle fights are a turn on, it's entirely another for him to reveal that they make him feel loved

- husk knows through context clues (look up "Ask" fic) and verbally teases him about it while he's tickling him

- is extremely ticklish, which as husk has pointed out, is odd considering his whole profession involves people touching him

- ^ the trick is: he's not crazy ticklish in all places, just SOME places

- most of his body is a-little-above-averagely ticklish

- but his armpits are killer

- giggles adorably at every other spot, but the armpits make him cackle (also adorable)

- squirms like you would not believe

- pretty likely you'll get smacked in the face by one of angel's swatting hands

- despite everything valentino has put him through, he still does enjoy bottoming and- wait ITS GOING NSFW LET ME EXPLAIN-

- ^ he still has fun surrendering control when he trusts the other person. and who does he trust more than husk? normally husk wouldn't be too keen on restraining him, but it adds to the spider's enjoyment and helps him stay still enough to enjoy the treatment, so he obliges. as said before, they have a safeword handy. husk knows that angel enjoys the pretend helplessness, so he puts on an act pretending that angel is helpless to escape his tickly fate, as if husk wouldnt drop everything the moment he thought angel really wanted him to stop. nothing makes angel happier than getting tickled senseless all tied up and vulnerable to his boyfriends loving teases

- blushes a nice pretty pink when laughing 😊

- surprisingly good at handling teases. the normal cutesy stuff (ie baby talk) doesn't do much to him and he can keep a cool head. but blunt observations? and facts? (the kind of teasing husk is best at) completely disarm him

- husk: "you're jumping an awful lot for someone who's NOT ticklish" "you love it when i touch you here don't you?" "I'll keep going alllllll night long, I'll tickle you till you can't even think, it's just you and me, and my wiggling fingers"

- angel will point out later that husk could make a lucrative career in the adult film industry with his verbal talents (husk politely refuses)

- remember that little squeak that angel's bosom made when husk poked it in ep 4? Yeah his whole body makes those sounds when you poke him 😊; alongside angel's hysterical giggles are the sounds of rubber duck squeaks. husk loves it

- this isn't news, angel is a criminally talented ler

- he can make each set of hands give a different amount of pressure and different technique, confusing your brain and making it all the more unbearable

- husk isn't just his favorite lee because he loves him. no no no, he's his favorite lee because you really have to work for it. husk won't open up to just anybody. and when you do, it's the most precious thing you've ever seen. angel thinks so anyway 🩷

- respects husk's boundaries just as much as husk respects his; after the teasing and anticipation is over and angel is JUST about to go in for the kill, he'll lean down and whisper "this ok?", to which husk can only look away and nod slightly, too mortified to say much else. every now and then throughout the tickles he'll repeat the question and wait for the ok signal

- he tried to give husk a relaxing foot massage (paw massage?) but he was too ticklish around the heart-shaped area so you can probably guess how that ended ;)

- they have a mutual agreement: no tickling (except maybe a poke) outside of their bedroom. they don't want any prying eyes on their private business

- tickle fights are always fun, just them wrestling and taking turns getting each other, trying to gain the upper hand

- favorite thing to do after a particularly rigorous tickle fight? naps 😊 <3

--------

Finally finished! 😁

#tickle #tickles #tickling #ticklish #tickle community #lee talks #tickle headcanons #hazbin hotel tickles #lee!husk #ler!husk #lee!angeldust #ler!angeldust #huskerdust tickles

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cindol · 1 year

Note

Imagine Dick and reader having a similar relationship to Batman and Catwoman except there’s 100x more sexual innuendos (you can’t tell me he wouldn’t) 😇

They probably would also have a deal where they try to catch each other and the one who succeeds gets to top 😇

Anyways, bye LMAO

YES YES YES

Black fem reader x Dick Grayson

tw: dick has a rope in this, sexual content, usage of the pet name kitty,

Please let me know if I butchered dick’s character pookie 💪🏾 I’m just getting into him

Dick definitely isn’t shy about his attraction to his very own little catwoman at first. Literally when he met his own villainous lady in a very inspired cheetah print latex cat mask and cat suit to match and plump two toned lips made him feel immediate attraction.

Even with her tied up and a pout on her glossy lips a smirk was on Dick’s lip as he pulled her near him with the long end of the rope. Something about the way she spoke to him and her whole demeanor made him wanna keep her around, so he did.

And still they were playing this game of cat and mouse. Y/n always being the mouse he’s chasing after in house robbery’s or midnight bank robbery’s and ending with her up in ropes against his own chest as he held the rope.”you don’t ever get tired of this game of cat and mouse kitty?” She makes her usual smirk at him saying that.”oh and have mr. big bad glow in the dark arrest me? No thanks baby..” she leaned into his face as her hands were bound.”orange ain’t my color.”

He just scoffed chuckling and pulled her even closer with his lips nearly brushing against hers, the tight rope didn’t help to hide her boobs poking out a bit. They always found themselves in this position, with one another just so close to giving into their urges but hesitant and duty stopping it.

With a kiss of his teeth Grayson quick unravels her from the bounds of the rope. Y/n was close to running off until she saw him with a excited look in his eyes, she always knew he had something on that brain of his with that smirk and look in his eyes. Rubbing his chin it was like a imaginary lightbulb went off in his brain.”Ah… you like a challenge right kitty?” She raised a brow.”with a reward yes, you know that.”

He circled around her a few time grinning.”so how about we make a deal..whoever catches one another gets to be on top or have each other for a day? What do you say hm?” That pulled a gasp and big eye brow raise from y/n. They had always had this chemistry or sexual tension but she never expected Dick to act on those feelings. She couldn’t lie and say she didn’t admire it.

She let out a small breath of air.”fine, I’ll bite. Better give me a good fight though yeah?”

It turned out y/n didn’t put up didn’t up a good enough fight as she thought she did. The way she moaned and whimpered with her smooth brown legs sat on Dick’s strong shoulders showed that. Her entire catsuit was discarded off in the corner of where they were doing this, dick’s bedroom. There were pink scratches on his back and new half moon scratches she was making too as she sink on her claws into him moaning at the smooth slow thrust he was giving her.”please! a little faster!” She couldn’t take the teasing slow thrust, she didn’t have the patience.

Dick smiled down at her. He wasn’t use to seeing a needy expression on her usual mischievous face, the way she bit her lip and looked at him with such a needy expression made him want more of that.”be patient kitty yeah? Slow and steady wins the race.”she just whined in frustration as he continued his slow strokes. He held one of her legs a little giving her a small touch on the thigh as he did it trying to hush her whines up.”be patient with me yeah baby? Can’t rush this..” he continued his slow thrusts inside her sopping pussy and began to grow just as needy as she was for him.

His slow sensual thrusting turned to rough sloppy thrusts and low groans from his throat.”been wanting this for so long? You know that?” She just frantically shook her head as she clenched his white sheets.”mhm!” But that response wasn’t enough for Dick, he didn’t think she was really getting how obsessed he’s been for her the day he met her. How he just wanted to have her body against his, and now he did.”no no baby.. I don’t think you get how dumbfounded you have me sometimes and how damn feral I get for you sometimes.. and I’ve been so so fucking feral..” it was like he had a feral look in his eyes as every word that came out his mouth his rough thrust went up a level making more vocal moans pour from y/n’s mouth.

“t-too fast! Dick wait gonna—“ before she could call it dick made one last thrust making her cum all over his cock and wetting up the bed with her mess. Dick slid out with a smile on his lip.

“We ain’t quite done yet.”

#dick grayson x female!reader #nightwing smut #dick grayson smut #dick grayson x reader #dc smut #x black reader

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rippersz · 8 months

Text

𝙲𝚊𝚝!𝙻𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚊 𝚆𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚜 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜:

─────﹒✿﹒─────

These are my opinions! If you don’t agree, then add your own headcanons! The idea is taken from the mind of @masscared-star and their thoughts on feline Larissa Weems.

─────﹒✿﹒─────

Kitty Cat Larissa Weems is a white Turkish Angora feline. One of the fluffy ones with the thicker neck fur and ear tufts. Her tail widens toward the end and is very soft of course. Every part of her is soft.

Her teeth are very sharp. They’re still in human alignment, but the incisors and canines are obviously more cat-like. The premolars and molars, toward the back of her jaw, have more sharp edges. So she doesn’t hurt herself, her tongue rests in her mouth differently and has a very weird texture. It’s in between human, soft, and the feline, rougher and tougher.

Her pupils CAN turn into slits. Her ears CAN twitch and swivel and flatten. Her tail CAN swish swish swish. She also has a habit of stalking without realizing - walking with swinging hips and one foot in front of the other like that of a model.

She has PERFECT balance. Despite her height and stature, she will not fall. And if she does, she shall be graceful about it.

Heightened senses of course. She has an excellent sense of smell. Her eyes, however, function like a human’s. She can see all colors and has an innate sense of where things are so there’s no ‘bumping into things’ unless she’s somehow dizzy. BUT she CAN see in the dark. Built-in night vision. No hiding from her at night.

Ear scritches. Yes, ma’am. Scratch her behind the ears, be careful of her hair, and she will push into your hand without even thinking. It’s very comforting for her and sends lovely little shivers down her spine. Same with the base of her tail. She won’t respond in the same… interesting manner as a cat’s, but she will let her tail curl around your wrist or your waist. She has a lot of control over it.

PURRING. PURRRRINGGG SOMETHING IS PURRINNNGGG AND IT’S LARISSA WEEMS LMAO. She will purr whenever she is content. Head on your lap while reading. Eating a lovely little meal with you in deep candlelight. She keeps it low and soft when she’s in public, happy and proud of her staff and students, but otherwise lets herself purr as loudly as she wants when with you. - Larissa also has the ability to let out little ‘mrrow!’ chirping kitty sounds when she’s excited. If you show up with lunch for her one day and she’s not expecting you, she’ll perk up and the sound will leave her chest without any restraint. She will be embarrassed about it. You will laugh and she will be embarrassed and then when you give her a little kiss, she will purposefully nick your lip and you will go ow!! and she will go 'Gotcha.'

Showering…. hissss….. She loves showers so much, she does, because they are warm and she likes warmth, but they are also annoying. The pitter patter on her ears can irritate her, so she indulges in baths more. It gives her control over the touches on her ears and she actually enjoys grooming the parts of her that are feline. Although, if you headcanon that she has a proper cat form, she will not like water as much.

Her nails are sharp. She can’t help it. They’re painted red, yes, and they can be sheathed and unsheathed (like Enid’s, yes), but she tries to be gentle with them. When she’s angry or frightened, they shoot out - so just be careful.

Her precious soft ears are pierced, near the base by her head on the outsides, but those areas are sensitive. Not sensitive like ooooo but sensitive like ow please don’t squeeze there. She mainly wears pearls in those spots, because she likes the sparkle, but little golden hoops make the occasional appearance as well. - She does not like bows or things being placed around her ears though. Chances are she will not like extra accessories there. And she DOES NOT APPRECIATE YOU TRYING TO TURN THEM INSIDE OUT BECAUSE IT LOOKS FUNNY. You did it once and you have the nicks on your hands to show it. Worth the laugh though.

She hisses beneath her breath when irritated. A popping sort of hiss that rumbles from her throat and is often heard in the quiet of her office.

She’s quick. Crazy quick. It seems impossible but it isn’t.

LOUNGING. BASKING IN THE SUN. LOUNGING AND BASKING. MMMM SUNLIGHT. She will lay across her chaise and she will soak in the rays through the windows and she will turn around in her desk chair and just sit there until she nearly falls asleep. No, it’s not very productive, but if she doesn’t get her daily sunlight, she will be a little bit down. If you find her taking a midday rest on the weekend, full body facing the sun that filters through onto the bed, no you don’t. Don’t disturb her. Leave her be, purring away happily.

─────﹒✿﹒─────

:3 - Rip x

#rippersz #fanfictionwriter #fanfic #larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #wednesday larissa weems #cat!larissa weems #headcanons #larissa weems headcanons

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danieyells · 4 months

Note

hai again :3 idk if youve already done him but can you do tohmas voicelines? he is sooo interesting i, once again, want to study him

Tohma is one of the I think two characters I haven't been asked to do yet!! I think he wouldn't appreciate you studying him either, anon, but I think he'd be willing to let you studying him becuase he didn't think you could actually succeed. . .but if you did, he'd have other uses for you lol

ANYWAY VOICELINES his are. Pretty expected in their nature lol he's like ritsu in that you will never see this man sweat.

Hello: (the first time the game is opened after that character is set as home screen NPC. Only happens once per day, unless the character is switched out and back.)

"Well, hello there—I've been expecting you. May I ask for your assistance with something?"

You've Got Mail: (whenever there's something in the inbox, usually Arena rewards)

"Seems you have some mail. There could be some helpful information in there."

Default: (requires no affinity, has no time constraints)

"What do you mean? I lend a sympathetic ear to those in need—that's all."

"Honestly. This academy has far more than its fair share of loose cannons, wouldn't you agree?"

"I'm no more than a servant. Frostheim is ruled by a king, you see."

"I hope you'll join us for a party some time."

"No need to be nervous. I've nothing but the noblest of intentions."

normal people don't need to say things like this. you see why i feel like it's too obvious that he's shady! he comes out the gate with this shit!

Affinity 1: (between 5am and 11am)

"An orderly life and a well-managed schedule are the key to keeping one's self fit and healthy."

Affinity 2: (between 11am and 4pm)

"How delightful... It seems our king's peaceful slumber has yet to be disturbed."

look at how annoyed he looks lmao He'd love to slam Jin's door open and yell WAKE THE FUCK UP BITCH

Affinity 3: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Is that everything? I'm afraid there are several matters I must attend to."

Affinity 4: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Please excuse me. There's a small matter I must attend to. No, it's nothing serious. Of course I'm being honest—whatever do you mean?"

yeah your affinity is too low for me to think you're honest. LET US IN.

Affinity 5: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Look at you, you're trembling. You must have had quite a frightening encounter. You poor thing."

considering what time this can happen maybe some anomaly was lurking in the darkness and scared you?

Affinity 6: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Providing this level of assistance goes without saying. Only once you can do so without instruction can you call yourself qualified."

Affinity 7: (between 11am and 4pm)

"So this is where you've been idling your time away. Our captain is waiting for you."

stop trying to hide you are a servant and your king demands your services.

Affinity 8: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Honestly. If he'd just take action, everything would be resolved instantaneously."

(In case there's any doubt, "he" is specifically referring to Jin--in Japanese he says "Dorm Leader". I wonder if this relates to the spy situation or the Institute. . .or something else entirely--)

Affinity 9: (between 8pm and 5am)

"This conversation never happened. Understand?"

Either he needs someone to believe he wasn't here or he told you something ~Secret~

Affinity 10: (between 10pm and midnight)

"An appropriate amount of sleep is essential to maintaining your physical and mental health, you know."

he's very worried about your health. . .as has been pointed out, perhaps because his own isn't stable. . . .

Affinity 11: (between 5am and 11am)

"Honestly. The second years have been making quite the racket this morning."

KAITO AND LUCA ARE HAVING FUN LET THEM HAVE FUN

Affinity 12: (between 11am and 4pm)

"I tend to eat lightly at lunch time. Would you like some? Don't worry—I assure you, it's not poisoned."

WHO SAYS THAT IF IT ISN'T POISONED. IT'S YOUR FOOD WE KNOW YOU WEREN'T POISONING YOURSELF. . .PROBABLY. . .COULD BE MICRODOSING POISON TO YOURSELF FOR IMMUNITY REASONS.

Affinity 13: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Seems you've become involved in a difficult situation. How do I know? I just happened to overhear, that's all."

WHICH DIFFICULT SITUATION. THERE ARE SEVERAL. IT FEELS LIKE THERE ARE MORE EVERY DAY.

Affinity 14: (between 5am and 11am)

"It appears we're in for another full day."

Affinity 15: (between 5am and 11am)

"Good morning. Would you like to start the day with a cup of tea?"

Affinity 16: (between 11am and 4pm)

"How about a game of chess to aid with digestion? I'm a patient teacher. I can show you how to win—against opponents other than myself, of course."

how would that help with. . .don't you usually have to exercise for. . .well I'm glad he's a patient teacher even if he won't teach you to beat him lol good strategy, make you a powerful ally.

Affinity 17: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Good health is the greatest treasure. You shouldn't push yourself too hard. Good night—I'll finish up here."

He wants you to take care of yourself. . .so he'll do the hard work when it's time for you to rest. He wouldn't want something bad to happen to you because you were unwell.

Affinity 18: (between 8pm and 5am)

"I always achieve my goals—using any means necessary. That goes without saying, don't you think?"

why restrict your means if you truly wish to fulfill your goal? Others use you for their means, so why not do the same yourself? If your ends are truly good perhaps the means aught not to matter so much.

Affinity 19: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Please don't overexert yourself. There are many people here who need you."

that may sound like a reason to overexert yourself, but if you overdo it you won't be able to help anybody. You have to help yourself if you want to help anybody else. There's no shame in that.

Affinity 20: (between 5am and 11am)

"Take care not to overdo it today. You may insist you're fine—perhaps you even believe it—but I can tell at a glance that you're fatigued."

he's worried about you. Maybe it doesn't sound that way, but he wants to make sure you're well. He can tell you're wearing down before you can. He has an eye for others, that's all. Also maybe it's just me but he mentions health and wellness so much I can't help but wonder if he's had some sort of health problem in the past, or maybe Jin or someone else he knows and cares for. Also, hilarious that speaks to highly of caring for one's health when he smokes.

Affinity 21: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Inexperience is not a crime. The important thing is choosing not to remain ignorant when you don't know something."

knowledge is in fact power

Affinity 22: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Errant and Fuji lack polish, but they've got potential. They're sincere, and that's what counts."

he really looks at them and says "those're my boys. my loud annoying sons."

Affinity 23: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Welcome to high society. That outfit suits you well. With that poise, you'll have no trouble fitting in here."

he dressed you up and brought you to a party because he likes and trusts you and wants to be seen with you. . .get used to the high life, he'd like to keep you in it as long as possible.

Affinity 24: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Forgetting about everything I've got to do and be, just for a night every once in a while... It's not a bad feeling."

no titles, no images, no fronts, and no lies. no manipulation. no doing somebody else's job--no doing any job. Just. . .time for himself. And, presumably, someone he loves very much. I think he's earned that kind of break. Does this sound like you're about to fuck to anybody else--

Affinity 25(max): (no time constraints)

"In times of difficulty, I hope you'll turn to those around you for help. I will be there to keep you safe."

Don't be like him and take so much upon yourself. . .rely on others. Ask for help! Find your people. Support each other. Don't try and go at it alone. It's okay to be united with your community. He is one of your people too, of course. Rely on him and he will keep you from harm. He's quite sweet, isn't he?

Spring: (March-May) (between 5am and 11am)

"That was quite the yawn. No need to apologize. Who wouldn't want to take a nap in this pleasant spring weather?"

(between 11am and 4pm)

"I once heard a poem that went, "In spring, one sleeps a sleep that knows no dawn." I'm sorry to inform you dawn must come eventually, Captain."

translation: 'WAKE THE FUCK UP JIN. IT'S THE MIDDLE OF THE DAY BITCH.'

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"With every advent of spring comes a wealth of gleaming new foliage and a pleasant breeze. I still find it moving each year."

reminds me of that if you ask Tohma what his hobbies are in his character story chat he says he likes being out in nature and taking walks. . .which also reminds me that Alan likes camping. I bet they used to go camping together all the time.

(between 8pm and 5am)

"The blossoms of spring fall so quickly. Though beautiful, there is something almost brutal in their brevity."

Summer: (June-August) (between 5am and 11am)

"Ha ha. My apologies. Your face is so flushed I couldn't help myself."

'lol you're so sweaty you look like a wet rat'

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Sweltering days like this make me sincerely grateful to be in Frostheim."

i wonder how hot it was in the vagastrom garage in the summer. probably sucked ass in there. and smelt like big sweaty dudes.

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Would you care to enjoy the evening cool here with me?"

(between 8pm and 5am)

"If the heat becomes to much for you, please feel free to come visit us in Frostheim any time."

inviting them to frostheim late at night? how scandalous. . . .

Autumn: (September-November) (between 5am and 11am)

"Pleasant days like this make me want to go on a trip somewhere far away."

i mean if anyone could get away with it it's definitely you. darkwick trusts you enough.

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Tea enjoyed while appreciating the colors of the fall leaves has a unique charm."

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"The early dusks in the fall can take one by surprise. Be sure to stay alert when walking in the dark."

(between 8pm and 5am)

"There is nothing better than a book to while away the long fall nights. My eyes are rather tired though... Perhaps some exercise will be a good change of pace."

Winter: (December-February) (between 5am and 11am)

"I thought Frostheim had gotten me used to cold weather, but I suppose this is what they mean when they say "chilled to the bone.""

my god he's admitting weakness. someone call the papers.

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Even the cold weather doesn't seem to deter the second years from gallivanting about... Rather charming, isn't it? In the way barnyard animals are."

my noisy sons who play in the snow like puppies

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"I'll take my leave earlier this evening. The nights are getting colder, after all. And there's a small matter I'd like to look into."

(between 8pm and 5am)

"Haven't you had your fill of winter scenery after frequenting Frostheim? Ha ha. You truly are a strange one."

His birthday: (May 31st)

"Thank you for putting together such a wonderful celebration for me. Oh? You've even gotten me a gift..."

Your birthday:

"Happy birthday. Perhaps it was a little presumptuous of me, but I've prepared a gift for you... Come now. There's no need to be so formal."

New Years: (January 1st)

"Happy New Year, {PC}. I expect you will help bring Frostheim to even greater heights this year."

why? are they being promoted to fuckin captain of frostheim or something now? tf?

Valentine's Day: (February 14th)

"Oh my, is this for me? How kind of you. I very much look forward to finding out what's inside."

White Day: (March 13th)

"I ordered you these sweets from a famous confectionery in Asakusa. Hopefully they suit your tastes."

April Fool's Day: (April 1st)

"What I wouldn't give to knock that bastard Jin's head off... Oh come now, what's that face? I'm joking, of course."

Halloween: (October 31st)

"Trick or treat. Oh? So you prefer tricks... Interesting."

what do you think he's dressed as? Oh no you didn't have any treats for him. . .be worried about what's coming i guess

Christmas: (December 25th)

"Merry Christmas. We'll be holding a party in Frostheim later. Would you care to join us?"

Idle: (about 20 seconds without interacting with the game) (below 13 affinity)

"Ignoring me, are you? You've certainly got guts."

(13 affinity and above)

"If something is concerning you, perhaps I could lend an ear. There may be something I can do to help."

Absent: (logging in for the first time in 2 or more days?)

"I've no interest in hearing your excuses. I suppose I'll need to be stricter with you going forward—I hope you've come prepared."

much like Jin. . .he believes you'll need to be retrained. Bad servant. Time to be reminded of your place.

IT FEELS LIKE HIS ARE VERY LOW KEY. He's secretive about his interests and so very busy as Jin's servant, it feels like they don't share much about him. . .hopefully we'll get more study opportunities, anon. I wonder if this makes his intentions seem more or less clear/honest for some? It could really go either way lol. WHAT REALLY GETS ME IS THE "just one night to not have to think about who i am and what i have to do is nice" ONE TBH. . .like he really works so hard trying to play every side for the outcome he wants. he works so hard keeping frostheim in order. no real hints to what his goals are, just that he acknowledges that he will do whatever it takes to reach them. Makes you wonder, but we probably won't learn anything for a long while haha

#tohma ishibashi #tokyo debunker spoilers #tokyo debunker #danie yells at tokyo debunker #danie yells with anons #danie yells answers #ONLY ONE MORE CHARACTER TO GO #until they put in ed and lyc anyway

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n0tangeliccc · 1 year

Text

Perfect birthday

pc!Kyle x fem!reader

(All characters are adults duh)

Warning: SMUT, praise!!!, Kyle being a pleasure dom, lowkey breeding kink lmao

A/N: BIRTHDAY SEX AND PC KYLE⁉️ HELL YEAH

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ✧˖°.

You had planned the entire day, everything had gone absolutely perfect so far. From breakfast in bed to taking your beautiful husband out to his favorite fancy restaurant this might be the best birthday Kyle had had in years and now there was one last gift left for him tonight.

Kyle laid in bed scrolling through his phone waiting for you to leave the bathroom, he wasn’t expecting anything when he heard you walk out but his eyes widen once he saw you. You stood leaning against the bathroom door with a smirk, your body clad in a lacy green lingerie set adorned with small bows making you look like the most perfect gift ever.

“Holy shit…” Kyle’s jaw was agape as you walked over to the bed “You like baby?” You giggled “Like? I love it, you look gorgeous darling” His eyes scanned your body as you crawled over next to him on the bed “Is this my last gift of the day?” “Mmhm, had to save the best for last” Kyle chuckled and pulled you onto his lap “You look so pretty baby…I’m gonna ruin you tonight.” He whispered in your ear.

Kyle flipped you over so you would be under him and instantly attached his lips onto yours. He groaned into the kiss as you wrapped you legs around his waist and pulled him in closer, “Fuck baby, so perfect…so perfect for me” he mumbled as he trailed sloppy kisses down your jaw to your abdomen leaving dark marks around your body. Kyle moved down to lay in between your thighs as he spread them. “So wet for me sweetheart” He pressed a soft kiss to your clothed clit, smirking as a soft whimper left your lips. “S-stop teasing Ky” you whined out making him chuckle again “Sorry baby it’s just too fun”

He moves back up and gives you a quick peck on the lips as he removes his pajama pants and boxers, as you go to remove your own undergarments he stops you “I want you to keep it on sweetheart” Kyle smirks and moves your wet panties to the side “Kyle…” You moaned out “I know pretty girl, I know” His fingers slide down your slit collecting your arousal and using it to lubricate his cock. “Are you ready?” He asked and you nod desperate for him “Yes please Kyle” a whimper escapes your lips as he slowly begins sliding his length into you “Fuck baby…so wet for me” Kyle groaned.

After a bit of waiting for you to adjust to his size he begins to slowly thrust into you gripping onto your waist as he does. Low groans and moans begin to fill the room as he speeds his movements with each thrust. He grins smugly as he watches how your face contorts in pleasure and sneaks one of his thumbs down to toy with your clit making your body jolt slightly “Oh fuck Kyle!” “You feel so good around me darling” He grunted as he pounded even harder into you “Fuck m’so close Kyle” You cried out in pleasure “Me too baby, gonna fill you up completely” He groaned in your ear, his words driving you over the edge as your orgasm washed over you “Fuck Kyle!!” He moaned as your walls tightened around him. His thrust became sloppy as he finally reached his peak and shot his load deep inside you with a loud groan.

He collapsed on you and pressed a kiss to your forehead “I think this was my favorite gift of the day”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ✧˖°.

#south park x reader #south park fanfiction #south park x y/n #south park x you #south park smut #kyle broflovski x y/n #kyle broflovski x you #kyle broflovski smut #kyle broflovski x reader #pc kyle broflovski x reader

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zeninsama-moved · 1 year

Text

pay up!

gojo satoru x female reader

satoru's poor time management has you working overtime, and this cheap bastard has something other than cash to pay you with (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

note from author mercury: this is my entry for our slimeball collab over on @bastardblvd , figured the host of the slimiest event on this corner of the internet should probably contribute a lil somethin. let's pretend like i'm not shitting bricks bc this is my first time writing for gojo <3 ending is a little abrupt but i needed to get this out asap or i'd be scrutinizing it for the next five months

content warnings: female reader, unprotected sex, oral and fingering (reader receiving), overuse of the word 'cute', praise and obnoxious petnames (reader receiving), needing to keep quiet, fucking on the couch while the kids are asleep down the hall so if that's a concern for you please don't touch, panty fetish if you squint, cumshot?, implied you've fucked before, unfair compensation for your labor lmao, multiple references to the slimeball au so that may be super jarring if you aren't familiar.

↳ word count: 3.9k

It's almost eleven, which means Satoru is... very late.

Shit happens, you get it. Maybe work ran later than expected, or the train hit a freeloader on the way back to Grimetown, but still. You can’t help but feel bothered by the lack of text message from your pseudo-employer.

You would never complain about Megumi and Tsumiki. They're absolute angels, and caring for them has never felt like work. Besides, your only other options were a waitressing job at Franky’s or the graveyard shift at the gas station, which you heard is filled with... interesting characters at that time of night. Caring for the coolest elementary schoolers alive seemed like a no-brainer. The arrangement worked out in your favor as well. Satoru ended up moving you into his apartment complex due to his demanding schedule, wanting you to always be close – like two apartments down the hall close.

Contrary to the name, the Luxury Condos on Bastard Boulevard weren’t much of an upgrade from your last apartment. The landlord must be loaded because it’s a miracle this place passed inspection, but you’ll gladly accept updated appliances and neighbors without a small army of pet rats. Even the offensively high rent doesn’t bother you because your pseudo-employer paid it all in cash.

(You tried asking Satoru exactly where he got all this money from, to which he said, “It ain’t easy being the sexiest designer sunglasses model on this side of town. You gotta work hard to play hard!”)

Anyways, whatever is holding him, you hope it’s a good excuse.

In the meantime, you’ve taken up camp on his sofa, wrapped in a throw blanket that smells vaguely of Satoru's disgustingly expensive cologne. You were too lazy to change the channel from whatever cartoon Megumi was watching before bedtime, laughing through your nose every now and then. It’s not that bad, but still… You’d really, really like to go back to your apartment and hit the hay.

Maybe a little snooze won’t hurt, but of course, right as you close your eyes...

The smart lock clicks behind you. It’s a quarter past eleven when Satoru enters the apartment, looking gorgeous and unbothered, sunglasses low on his nose and DAISO cat-print tote bag slung over his arm.

"Daddy's home!"

"Shh!" you're glaring from the couch, lips drawn in a frown. "Megumi and Tsumiki are sleeping! Where the hell were you? You couldn't give me a heads up?"

"Sorry, babycakes. They loved what I was giving 'em, so the shoot ran overtime." Satoru grins at you, pulling the sunglasses off his face and ditching them in the catch-all along with his keys. His shoes are toed off and left by the front door. "Why, you miss me that bad?"

You're tempted to throw one of the many decorative pillows right at his big, dumb head. Instead you sink back into the couch, pulling the blanket tighter around your frame, grouchy. "Whatever," you sigh. "You're four hours late, so you better pay up."

Satoru sucks in air through his teeth. "Yeah, about that..."

You don't like where this conversation is heading.

"Some big guy outside the train station jacked my wallet on the way home. You'll never believe it, he had this fuckin'... worm? On his shoulder? Shit, it was crazy. So I don't have the cash to pay you, but–"

You glance over your shoulder at the man now rummaging through his bag behind you, eyes and tone full of warning. "Satoru..."

An opened package is waved in your face by a beaming idiot.

"– Ichigo daifuku! Your favorite!"

He's so full of shit. There’s one piece of mochi left, does he really think his already-eaten train snack will fix this? Probably, and as much as you'd hate to admit it, you do like strawberry daifuku mochi. Dammit.

Despite your annoyance, you don't get up from your spot on the couch. You're tempted to storm out, blow past Satoru and grab your things, maybe give him a good shove while you do it. However, you're tired, and no grand display of your frustrations would change the fact that you'd be returning tomorrow to pick up his kids from school. Also, your apartment is literally two doors down, so you wouldn't truly be escaping Satoru – you'll still feel his annoying energy seeping through the absurdly large gap under your door while you sit there, in the apartment that he bought you, stewing in your annoyance and eating your feelings in a single daifuku mochi.

God, you might hate this man. You don't even wanna look at him, but despite feeling this way, you let Satoru move closer, ditching the bag of sweets in favor of pinching your puffed-out cheek in his fingers.

“Aw, come on,” he pouts, redirecting your face towards his in an attempt to get you to look at him, but you don’t give him the satisfaction. You force yourself to look anywhere else but the man above you and stubbornly pretend you can’t feel the cool puffs of his mint-gum breath, or notice his devious grin from the corner of your eye. “Don’t be mad at me, babycakes. Is there anything I can do to make it better?”

“You can go to the ATM and get me some cash."

“Yeah, besides that.”

On the subject of things you hate about Satoru, you hate how quickly he switches up on you. One minute, he's the most annoying man you've ever had the misfortune of knowing. The next, he's smooth and serious. The kind of man that confidently leans in and ghosts his lips over your neck, intentionally fanning his breath over your skin because you made the mistake of telling him you're ticklish there.

"There must be some way for me to make this up to you," Satoru murmurs into your neck, the low vibrations of his voice making you shiver. It's then that you finally cave, eyes slowly meeting his, brilliant blues hidden behind heavy lids.

Unfortunately, he's very handsome.

"Okay," you huff. "Fine."

He kisses your cheek, then your nose, and then he kisses you.

You hate to admit it, but Satoru knows how to kiss. His lips are warm and soft, meshing with yours with confidence, tongue easing into your mouth in a practiced motion.

He momentarily breaks the kiss to join you on the couch, kneeling on the cushion beside you and leaning back in, cradling your cheek in his hand, murmuring against your lips before kissing them again.

"Let me show you just how much I appreciate you."

Satoru reaches down and rests his hand between your thighs, cupping your pussy through the rough fabric of your shorts. You bite your lip at the sensation, stifling a needy whimper, but he knows. Your grouchy demeanor melted so easily for him.

How cute, his little tsundere.

He squeezes you softly, then rubs four fingers up and down, keeping his pace slow.

"You know I can't do it without you, right?"

Your hips lift off the couch, chasing his hand as it continues its unbothered pace. Satoru rewards you by focusing the stimulation on your clit, switching to tighter, firmer circles over the sensitive bud.

"You're just saying that," you mutter.

"Nuh uh," Satoru teases. "I've never seen anyone be so good with my kids. They love you, you know. Maybe more than they love me."

That's not too difficult, you want to quip, but opt to bite your tongue instead. Satoru's touch feels way too good, you don't want him to stop or risk having your orgasm put off just over a snark. Instead, you curl your fingers into the nape of his neck, fidgeting with the shorter tufts of hair there.

Satoru kisses you again. His hand stops playing with your clit just to skim higher, unfasten the button and zipper on your shorts so he can touch you where you both want it most.

"And you know," he murmurs between kisses, fingers sneaking under the loosened waist of your shorts, then your panties, until you feel his fingers make contact with your bare clit. He watches your reactions closely, smiling when you gasp and buck up into his touch. "I like you too. How can I not? You're too damn cute."

His slender middle finger skims your folds, feeling the wetness there, letting it gather and get him all slick, making it easier when it finally pushes inside you. Just one finger already feels like so much, almost too much. He feels your walls bear down, his cock twitching lazily in his pants. How long has it been since he’s had you last?

You let him have you once before, back when he spent the whole day helping you move into your new apartment, carrying all those heavy boxes for you like the gentleman he is – and you, being the sweet peach you are, insisted on making him dinner as a thank you.

You reminded Satoru of a cute little housewife, puttering around the kitchen in your apron, though nothing was cuter than the sight of you sinking onto his dick that night, your hands and pussy clinging to him like you couldn’t get enough.

Every time he jerks off, he thinks of that adorable, pinched look on your face when the fat head of his dick first speared you open.

It's kind of embarrassing, the hold you have on him.

When you're taking his finger with ease, Satoru presses a second into your cunt, further stretching it out. "Come on, baby, open up for me," he coaxes, voice low and sultry. "Fuck, you don't know how bad I missed this pussy. Gonna let me fuck it again? Hm?"

"Uh huh," you're nodding, dazed, and the sight of you makes Satoru grin. The heel of his palm presses into your clit, providing the right amount of pressure when combined with his fingers.

"Yeah? Gonna let me have this cute pussy to myself?"

Cruelly, the motion stops.

The lack of stimulation makes you pout.

Satoru's fingers glide out of you with an embarrassingly loud squelch, intentionally brushing along your clit as they withdraw from your shorts and panties. His hand emerges, fingers glistening with clear threads of arousal webbed between them, and before you can think, he slips them past your lips and presses firmly on your tongue, prompting you to suck.

"Tastes good?" Satoru coos, delighted at your eagerness. "Let me taste now, okay, cutie?"

Shyly, you nod. His fingers withdraw from your mouth, leaving a dribble of spit on your bottom lip.

Satoru repositions himself to kneel on the floor in front of you, tugging you by the hips so your bottom half comes right to the edge of the couch, dangerously close to his face. He leans in and presses a soft kiss to your cunt, the sensation muted by your shorts, but it still makes you gasp. His fingers hook into your shorts and you lift your hips to help him pull them off, but he makes no effort to remove your panties with them. Instead, he fixates on the little wet patch right in the center, caressing it with his finger. Admiring it.

Fuck, you’re so cute. He can’t wait to get his mouth on you.

"Need to keep quiet, okay?" Satoru instructs, peering up at you through his lashes, watching you take your bottom lip between your teeth and nod. The last thing you need is to disturb the two rugrats asleep down the hall, even if you could pry yourself off Satoru and pull your shorts back on in record time. You don't want this moment to stop, not when the promise of his mouth on your cunt is so deliciously close.

You look so sweet like this, he thinks. Chest heaving, eyes wide and eager, one hand fisting the hem of your shirt, holding it over your stomach for a better view. Satoru smiles up at you, maintaining eye contact as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh.

“What a beautiful girl.”

Satoru buries his face in the soft warmth between your legs. His nose presses into your clit, taking in your scent as his tongue ventures lower, finally getting a taste of your pussy and he shamelessly moans. It’s faint through the fabric. He knows he could taste you better without them, but something about eating pussy through a cute pair of panties never fails to get him so fucking hard. He likes watching them get wetter and wetter, until they're completely soaked from arousal and saliva and clinging to the shape of the pretty pussy underneath.

Your other hand flies down immediately, resting on the back of Satoru’s head to urge him closer, and of course he’ll indulge you. He’ll eat you just the same, dragging his tongue in broad strokes up to your clit, then sucking it into his mouth.

The muted sensation makes you whine. It’s not enough, yet so good. Enough to make your little pussy flutter under your panties. You push his head harder against your cunt, desperate to keep the kissing suction over your clit. You’re certain you could cum like this, between the pressure of Satoru’s tongue and the vibrations when he moans against you.

A string of saliva connects Satoru’s swollen lips to your panties when he pulls back for air, but this time he pulls the soaked fabric aside, finally getting an eyeful of your pussy.

“Well hi, gorgeous,” he lovingly coos, pressing a light kiss over your clit. “Did you miss me?”

Is he… really talking to your pussy?

Scratch that, you hate him again.

“What are you doing?” You ask, breathless.

“What do you mean? We’re having a moment,” Satoru replies, voice still sweet and airy, the same way one would talk to a cute little pet.

If you didn’t need him so badly, you’d kick him right in his dumb face.

Fortunately, Satoru cuts his little bit short and dives back in, tongue sweeping through your folds, finally getting his first real taste of your pussy. You taste even better than he could imagine.

You release a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, body melting into the couch. Your fingers tangle in soft white hair, urging his head deeper, wanting to feel more of his mouth and Satoru obliges. His tongue dips into your cunt, fucking you with it, then drags up to your clit to lick in slow circles.

He really, really wants to be inside you right now. His dick is throbbing so hard, he’s amazed he hasn’t passed out yet, but Satoru’s always been a man with a sweet tooth. He doesn’t mind setting his needs aside a while longer if it means eating out some pretty pussy.

Maybe not too much longer though.

His fingers join between your legs, still slick from your saliva and arousal, and slip easily into your cunt. Making you cum is easy for him, his fingers thrust deep with each lazy roll of his wrist, stimulating that spot inside you with ease. Though, he can tell you're craving more of a stretch, so Satoru, being the chivalrous, generous, oh-so-kind man that he is, gives you a third finger.

Your jaw drops at the intrusion, pussy now spread wide to accommodate the stretch of three fingers as they curl and stroke your sensitive walls, drawing out more wetness and arousal until it drips down his wrist in clear drops.

Satoru knows you're close when you let out a particularly desperate moan, your hips stuttering and walls fluttering so perfectly on his fingers, clit pulsing against his tongue.

"Satoru, I'm–" you warn, trying to keep your voice low.

"I know, baby," he coos in encouragement. "Feels so good, doesn't it? Go ahead, pretty baby. Cum on my tongue if you need to."

You don't need any further coaxing. When you cum, you cum hard, hand smacking over your mouth to muffle your cries as Satoru keeps fucking you through your orgasm, fingers thrusting and tongue lapping up every drop of arousal your sensitive pussy drools out, just for him.

He rests his head on your inner thigh, watching fondly as you come down from your high. His fingers still thrust into you but his pace has slowed significantly, working you through it until your walls stop contracting. Your arousal coats his entire hand when it withdraws from your cunt, even pooling on the couch beneath you. It'll be a bitch to clean, but Satoru can't bring himself to care about that now. His dick might explode if it's not buried in your cunt in the next thirty seconds.

Even as you lay there, chest heaving, you still crave more. Your hands are greedy, grabbing at Satoru while he makes his way up and eases you back against the couch.

“Easy there, tiger,” he chuckles, hooking his fingers into your soaked panties and peeling them down your legs. "Let's take these off you first."

Your panties are discarded somewhere – probably his pocket, that pervert – before Satoru goes in for another kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. One hand rests beside your head, supporting his weight. The other reaches down and palms his dick through his pants. "You need my dick that badly? Hm? Turn around."

You oblige, rolling over to lay on your stomach and pretending the sound of his belt unfastening doesn't make you warm with anticipation. Satoru shifts to straddle your thighs, placing one of the cushions to rest under your hips, keeping you nice and comfortable while also elevating your ass to be closer to his dick. A win-win.

"Shit," he sighs, pulling his dick from his briefs and jerking it slowly, slicking himself up with your wetness. Precum beads at the tip and he rubs it against your folds, mixing your messes. "It's been a while, huh?"

"Satoru," you whine, pushing back against him, wiggling your hips slightly in a silent request for him to quit teasing you and get on with it.

Maybe that makes you greedy. After all, he was just nice enough to let you cum on his fingers and tongue, but you don't care. It doesn't hurt to be selfish every once in a while, especially with Satoru of all people.

When Satoru finally presses the thick head of his dick into you, it feels like you’re being split in two. He's immediately met with resistance, your cunt bearing down, struggling to accommodate it even with all the prep he gave you. So he starts slow and shallow, dragging his heavy dick in and out, bullying your cunt into relaxing and letting more of him fit. He pulls out and taps the head against your entrance again. "Come on, sweetie, open up for me~"

He eases into your cunt again, but this time Satoru leans in, his opposite hand settling on the other side of your head, smothering you with his weight in the best way possible. His body blankets yours, pinning your back under his chest and ass against his hips. His dick pushes into you with more persistence, inch after inch sinking deeper until he's buried to the hilt.

Your eyes roll back, mouth hanging open in a silent scream. You're probably drooling all over his couch, but it's hard to feel shame when he's filling you out so nicely. He's so deep, it's like he's forcing the air out of your lungs and replacing it with his dick.

His lips ghost over your shoulder, kissing it sweetly, then he starts to move. Slow, deep thrusts, only withdrawing an inch before he's chasing that warmth again. He fucks you as hard as he can without being too noisy, limiting the smack of his hips against your ass, even though he really wants to see it bounce from the force of his thrusts. If he could, he’d be making you scream right now, watch some pretty tears stream down your face because of what his dick does to you. Yeah, that would be cute.

Satoru ruts ruthlessly into the tight heat of your cunt, chasing the orgasm he’s needed so fucking desperately. Balls slap against your clit, heavy with all his pent-up release. He takes advantage of your open mouth and forces two fingers inside, pressing down firmly on your tongue and delighting in the way you slobber around them, in the way your cheeks subconsciously hollow and suck them deeper, still tasting your pussy on them.

Sucking on his fingers keeps you quiet, gives you something else to focus on if not the relentless pounding against your cervix, or how close you’re getting to snapping and cumming all over his dick.

“Shit, you’re so perfect,” Satoru huffs against your neck. "I can feel you squeezing me, baby, I know this little pussy wants to cum."

It’s hard to moan his name when his stupidly long fingers are prodding the back of your throat. You’re babbling, crying out for Thatowu to keep fucking you, it feels so good, and he’s grinning like an idiot above you. Yeah, baby? It feels good?

Satoru’s fingers withdraw from your mouth only to snake underneath your body and stake claim on your clit, massaging in slow circles, coaxing you closer to your orgasm. You can’t take it anymore. Your body goes limp, cheek smashed into the cushion, gaping mouth smearing drool all over the fabric while your cunt creams around his dick.

“Shit, that’s it, baby,” Satoru moans, feeling your cunt squeeze around his dick like it's trying to swallow him whole. “Shit, you’re gonna make me cum. Is that what you want, baby? You want me to fill this pussy up?”

You’re too fucked out to answer, but that’s okay, because Satoru wasn’t really asking. More like letting you know he’s seconds away from driving his dick as deep as possible and unloading right against your cervix. God, he’d really like that, but he can't risk having any more rugrats right now. Not when his career as the only sexiest designer sunglasses model in Grimetown is taking off.

Instead, he pulls out of your cunt and manhandles you onto your back, quickly stroking his dick, filling the living room with the lewd sounds of your wetness squelching around him. You're laying there, dazed, legs spread wide and pussy exposed, all swollen and leaky and clenching around the air. The sight of your debauched face sends Satoru over the edge. He releases with a groan, cum splattering on your lower stomach, inner thighs, all over your pussy, before pressing the head right against your clit and letting the rest of his load drip.

You both need a minute after that. Maybe several minutes.

Blood still rushes in your ears when you come to. You push yourself up on shaking arms, Winnie the Pooh-ing it with your tee shirt and lack of panties. You're a mess, all sweaty with his cum painting your lower half, even parts of the couch underneath you. Maybe he'll offer up his shirt as a cumrag so you don't have to do the walk of shame to the bathroom.

You watch Satoru, who is already back to his normal, irritating self, snatch his bag off the side table, already craving a little something sweet. He chomps into the last strawberry daifuku mochi in the packet and you frown.

“Hey, I thought that was for me."

“We can still share,” Satoru teases, waving the mochi-half in your face with a grin.

Huffing, your eyes drop back down to the open bag on his lap and… wait a minute. Has that been here this whole time?

“Satoru, is that your wallet?”

He looks down, a little rice flour on his chin.

“Oh, shit! Where did that come from?”

#mercury writes

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ohmtoff · 5 months

Text

Shots, shots, shots (Part 2)

Nick Sturniolo x Masc!OC

read part 1

Summary: Nick is most definitely not having fun at a frat party Madi dragged him to, but this boy who’s staring at him hungrily may help him to have a good time (or: a very cliche and very self-indulgent fic of Nick getting it on with a frat bro)

WC: 5.5k

Contains: college!AU, frat bro!oc, anal sex, bottom!nick, top!oc, making out, blow job, rimming, fingering, dirty talk, slight spanking, light dom/sub, slight slut shaming

Disclaimer: read part 1 for background. will contain grammar mistakes, english is not my first language

a/n: well. this was a beast to write LMAO. so sorry for the long wait, i've just been rlly demotivated to write and my draft was just so so long that i often got overwhelmed and just didnt revise it altogether😭 anyways hope it isn't too long and hope you enjoyyy

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“Welcome to my room, also known as the room of the president of this shithole.” Evan plops himself down in the rolling chair at his desk, turning to face Nick on the bed. “Does that make this the shithole headquarters? Shoes off please.”

Nick groans, hiding his face in his hands, peeking out from in between his fingers in embarrassment, pulling off his shoes and throwing them over to Evan who arranges them neatly next to his at the door. “Please, don’t. I didn’t mean it.”

“Don’t lie baby. You meant every word."

The objection from before comes out sharply. “I thought I told you not to call me baby.”

Evan pouts, jutting out his lower lip and widening his eyes in a silent plea. “But I rather like the nickname on you. Very fitting. And becoming.”

“Well, I don’t.”

Evan pauses, lost in a moment of thought before turning his gaze back towards Nick, his brows drawn together. “How about we make a deal…” The other boy starts slowly, choosing his words carefully. “…if I can make you like being called baby by the end of the night, I get to keep calling you baby.”

“And if you can’t? What do I get in return?”

“I stop calling you baby.”

“That hardly seems fair.” Now it’s Nick’s turn to pout. “That doesn’t seem like much of a prize for winning.” Time to have a little fun. He continues, slyly. “How about if I win, then I get to call you princess?” Evan visibly blanches, and Nick’s inner self laughs as he watches the color drain from the other boy’s face. Priceless. “What?” Nick goes wide-eyed, blinking with a faux innocence. “You need to be able to take what you dish out too, Evan.”

The other boy laughs. “Fair enough. Deal.” Nick quivers as Evan’s eyes darken, one side of his mouth quirked up in a perceptive smile. “But I’ll just have you know, I never lose.”

Okay, a bit conceited, but undeniably also hot.

Evan paces over, plopping down next to him on the bed, and in one swift motion, pulls him over into his lap. Nick holds his breath as the other boy stares at him, tracing over every inch of his face with his eyes. He lets out a little gasp as Evan presses his thumb into the corner of his mouth, pulling down a bit so he can taste the other boy. And he hopes his lips are luscious enough from his watermelon lip balm as Evan starts running his thumb along his bottom lip, Nick’s tongue darting out to wet his lips unconsciously, brushing against the other boy’s finger. A low groan rises from Evan, and Nick takes in delightedly seeing the other boy’s pupils dilate with arousal. “Fuck, Nick. You’re really pretty, you know that?”

“Of course I do.” The words come out with a lot more bravado than he feels as Evan’s other hand tightens on his waist, his thumb rubbing small circles over his skin. Nick had expected everything to happen fast and hard so the way the other boy is studying him so intently is a bit disconcerting, the attention bringing out a sudden shyness from him, unsure of what he should do or say. Evan trails his hand down to his neck, splaying his fingers out against Nick’s skin, thumb running along his jaw.

“Beautiful.” The word comes out drawn-out, Evan breathing all his longing into it, and Nick’s eyes automatically close, letting it run through him as the other boy presses down on the pulse point of his neck, feeling the blood rushing to his head. His breath hitches as Evan starts at his collarbones, searing open-mouthed kisses into his skin, the tip of the other boy’s tongue forming small circles as he moves upwards, Evan’s lips soft against his skin. Evan goes slow, a bit too slow for his taste, and his impatience tears a needy whine from his throat, tugging on the other boy’s hair for emphasis, making Evan let out a low throaty chuckle against his neck. “Be patient, baby.”

Nick doesn’t have the energy to object, breathing heavily as the other boy finally reaches his mouth, Evan’s hand cupping his face, fingers spread over his cheek tilting his head, and Nick moans into the kiss as Evan catches his lower lip first, gently nibbling. God. And the other boy’s mouth is moving over his, tasting like drunken mistakes, and Nick can’t tell whether it’s him moaning or Evan anymore as the other boy deepens the kiss, his tongue hot and heavy in his mouth. The pleasure mounts, and Nick whines, desperately trying to find some relief as he feels himself getting hard, grinding onto Evan’s lap as the other boy runs his tongue over his.

Evan breaks off their kiss first, nuzzling into his neck, murmuring. “So needy baby, and we’re not even close to done.” Then fuck me already. “If you’re really that desperate already, you’re welcome to ride my thighs as we make out.” The noise of indignance from Nick makes the other boy laugh.

“I thought we came upstairs to fuck.” Nick hisses, halfway affronted that Evan hasn’t even made a move to take off his clothes, his cock starting to feel uncomfortably restrained in his jeans.

“Don’t worry, you’re definitely going to get fucked baby.” Evan grins at him cheekily. “But I enjoy playing with my food before eating it.” The analogy makes Nick flushes, the thought of the other boy eating him out very appealing right now.

Nick lets the other boy lift him up slightly, Evan’s hands taking the chance to squeeze his ass, rearranging him so he has the other boy’s thigh squarely between his legs, the feeling of Evan’s tensing underneath him making his cock twitch. Evan steadies him with hands on his waist, his own hands resting on Evan’s shoulders as he starts moving, feeling the friction of Evan’s body against him building his excitement. Nick whines when the other boy makes no move to do anything as he starts falling into a rhythm. Don’t just stop. Evan seems to understand without him saying anything further, mouth curving into a half-smile. “I like to watch sometimes. Pretty things deserve to be admired.”

The words only deepen his arousal, making it pool in his stomach as he moves, closing his eyes and letting the feeling overtake him. Nick moans as he feels Evan’s lips on him, kittenish licks against his sensitive skin as he rolls his hips against the other boy, slow and hard. “Mmm, your thighs are actually quite nice though.”

Nick inhales as Evan scrapes his teeth against his skin, the rough feeling a sharp contrast from his previous kisses, murmuring. “I don’t know whether I should take that as a compliment or be insulted that you sound surprised about it.”

“It’s not like I would kn-“ His words are cut off abruptly as Evan slides his hand fully underneath his shirt, brushing his thumb over his nipple, drawing out another low moan as Evan pinches it, rolling his nipple between his thumb and index finger.

“But yes. Lots and lots of squats. And playing soccer for the school team.”

“Are you any good?”

“Yeah," Evan’s breath is hot against his ear, teasingly sweet, the whisper making a thrill run through him. “Added plus if you like it, baby.”

“I-I d-do.” Nick curses himself for stammering, the other boy choosing that exact instant to start nibbling on his earlobe again, a particularly sensitive spot for him. Evan’s throaty moan into his ear almost physically hurts, the hand cupping his ass and squeezing not helping matters.

“God, fuck. Vou meter em você ate você gritar meu nome.”

Nick doesn’t understand what it means, but the low growl into his ear makes him aroused anyway, the urge to be fucked getting stronger by the minute. “Don’t know what the fuck you just said, but it sounded hot.”

“I said I’m gonna fuck you until you scream my name.” Nick gasps as Evan bites down a bit hard at the base of his neck, surely leaving a mark on his skin for tomorrow. And he doesn’t think he minds, the thought of everyone knowing about this making him curl up on the inside with embarrassment that somehow only serves to heighten his arousal. But maybe it doesn’t even matter if Evan leaves any marks as half the room had seen them go upstairs together.

“Then do it.” His sharp demand just makes the other boy shake his head, the amusement at his frustration evident on Evan’s features. The other boy leans backwards languidly, resting with his elbows on the bed, stopping to just stare at him. The silence goes on for too long, and Nick can feel himself getting flushed as Evan does nothing but rake his gaze over him. “What?”

The other boy comes closer slowly, taking his goddamn time, and Nick feels as if his audacity may have gotten him into trouble, Evan looking at him with an unreadable expression on his face. He doesn’t move as the other boy gets closer, the feeling of Evan’s fingers on his lips again, nail digging in at the corner of his mouth, dipping in ever so slightly. And Nick parts his lips, mewling as the other boy slips them in, automatically sucking, the anticipation of possibly having Evan’s fingers curling deliciously in his ass making him eager and hungry. The fingers pressing down on his tongue, sliding further back makes him nearly gag, and Evan strokes his cheek in response, murmuring an apology, pulling his fingers out slightly as Nick continues to slick them with saliva.

“Pretty mouth, sharp tongue.” He makes a noise of displeasure when Evan takes out his fingers. “I bet you look beautiful sucking cock.” The bold statement makes him flush, makes him remember his earlier thoughts, his eyes flicking downwards to stare again at the other boy’s tattoo, somehow forgotten and like a distant memory.

It ripples when he breathes.

Evan’s amused laugh makes him feel embarrassed, caught staring a few beats too long. “Do you like it?” The other boy’s fingers run through his hair, ruffling it, his thumb brushing Nick’s cheek. “Does it turn you on?” Nick doesn’t know what to say. “I’ll tell you a secret.” Evan’s breath on his ear. “If it turns you on, it means you really like get railed in bed baby. Especially by me.” The slow grin spreads over the other boy’s face as Evan watches his eyes widen, his mouth gaping, utterly speechless.

Evan’s eyes narrow, his voice low and silky, no longer playful and amused, and Nick finds it difficult to swallow as he sees Evan slowly unbuckling his belt, counting the belt holes one by one as the the other boy pulls at the end excruciatingly slowly. One. Two. Three. Four. And he’s waiting, his body coiled tightly, the tenseness making him almost shiver as he watches, the top button and the zipper that comes down slowly.

The red of Evan’s boxers are showing now, the sharp edge against the other boy’s skin. “I want you on your knees.” The words are demanding, suffocating, and Nick finds the other boy isn’t the only one that wants him on his knees, the prospect of having more than just fingers in his mouth making him dizzy. He gets up obediently, waiting what seems like forever for Evan to part his legs, and the other boy pats his inner thigh, motioning for him. “Come, baby.” Nick bites his lower lip, wanting to retort, but Evan’s head is tilted dangerously, his expression calculating, and the words leave no room for argument, short and clipped.

He drops to his knees, Evan’s hand at the back of his neck guiding him closer, his other hand pulling down the waistband of his boxers so that his cock spills out, the full barrel of the other boy’s gun tattoo coming into view, and Nick isn’t sure which is hotter, the desire for Evan to fuck his brains out overwhelming him. At least I know it does point to his cock. And maybe on a good day, he’d find this arrogant, but right now, he just wants his mouth to be filled.

“Can you show me how good you are at sucking cock baby?” The other boy cradles his cheek, his thumb caressing his jawline, and it feels soft, the light touch making him want to please, nodding his head. Evan’s fingers tighten in his hair as he goes down, slowly wrapping his mouth around just the tip, gaze turned upwards to stare at the other boy prettily, knowing the effect it has. Two can play at this game. Evan doesn’t disappoint, a low moan drawn out of him as Nick moves down slowly, getting used to the feeling of the other boy’s length in his mouth, too long since the last time he’s sucked cock.

But judging by the noises the other boy is making, he sure hasn’t forgotten how to.

Nick sucks harder, hollowing out his cheeks, attempting to go down as far as he can, feeling the tip in the back of his throat, thankful that he doesn’t have much of a gag reflex. He goes slow, wanting to savor the feeling of fullness in his mouth, letting his lips slide along the other boy’s cock, wetting it with his tongue, running it along the vein down the side, imagining Evan filling his ass. His eyelids fluttering in pleasure as he feels Evan tugging on his hair lightly, urging him to go faster, ignoring the spit that dribbles out as he half gags on the other boy’s cock. He’s always given messy blowjobs anyway. But Evan’s thumb wipes at the corner of his mouth, smearing a trail across his cheek, a dirtiness that feels all too enthralling.

“Baby, you look so pretty like this.” The breathy compliment only encourages him further, his head bobbing up and down at a quickened pace. And he’s given up trying to be coy, concentrating instead on Evan’s tattoo as he moves up and down, remembering his shameless display of behavior from earlier in the night, licking all the way down trying to get in the other boy’s pants. Trying to get here, with Evan’s cock shoved in his mouth. Nick moans as the other boy gets a little too impatient, the hand at the back of his head now pushing him down firmly, his hips rolling upwards to meet Nick’s mouth.

“Fuck, fuck.”

He knows what the swears mean, and Nick tries eagerly to make it happen, his hands bracing themselves on Evan’s ass, waiting for his chance to taste the other.

Evan pulls out of his mouth and Nick can’t hide his disappointment, a whine coming out unwittingly. That whine was replaced with a gasp as the other boy leans down and kisses him. Nick is swallowed up by Evan completely, taking out all the air in his lungs. They’re both panting heavily when Evan stops, his hand caressing Nick’s cheek, a nice, even, slow touch that feels both heavy and light all at the same time.

“I want to come in you.” Evan kisses the tip of his nose, a soft peck that makes Nick’s the butterflies in his stomach fly up into his chest, the action and words making him feel two entirely different things. The other boy doesn’t wait for him to respond, getting up and squatting down to sweep him up bridal style, one arm cradled under his knees, the other at his back, the change making him let out a squeak of surprise.

He wraps his arms around the other boy’s neck instinctively, the twinge of soreness in his knees only noticeable now that he isn’t on the floor anymore. Evan deposits him on the bed gently, his head settling on the pillow, suddenly feeling small as the other boy looms over him, Evan making quick work of pulling off his pants, his boxers, and Nick stares as the expanse of skin comes into view, the other boy fully naked.

Evan pauses for a second, hesitant, before asking, his voice catching in his throat. “Can I undress you baby?”

He nods, not daring to make a sound, holding his breath as Evan starts from the bottom, unbuttoning his pants, and Nick lifts his butt upwards slightly so the other boy can pull them off, his boxers coming off right after, his cock still hard, hissing as the cold-ish air hits his skin. And then the tank top is being pulled over his head, his arms stretched upwards. He moans as the other boy starts planting kisses over his body, starting from his neck and trailing downwards to his cock, a groan of need vibrating in the back of his throat as Evan kisses the tip, bucking his hips up for more, hands pressing in a burning warmth over the skin of his inner thighs.

“Baby.” Evan says it almost reverently, as if Nick is everything, and he feels every syllable down to his toes and tips of his fingers as Evan continues. “You’re so beautiful. And fuckable.” And it’s the way the other boy says it, the tone a mix between waiting to worship and use him, that gets him off, and Nick thinks that maybe he’s in trouble. “Get on your hands and knees for me. Facing that way.”

Nick does, facing the closed door to Evan’s room in anticipation. He can hear the other boy shifting on the bed behind him, feeling Evan’s hand on his ass, one hand squeezing lightly. The sound of a drawer opening, the other boy rummaging around for a few moments. “Fuck.” The tone isn’t encouraging, and Nick glances back, trying to get a glimpse of Evan. “I ran out of condoms.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.” Nick groans as he falls over on to the bed on his back, looking up to stare with wide-eyed disappointment at Evan, who’s running his hand through his black hair, the frustration knotting his brows together as he stares down at his phone. “No, I’m not, but just lemme text Nate. He’ll just steal some from his roommate.” Nick nearly gets his head taken off as the other boy throws a few things at him. “In the meantime, pick your favorite flavor.”

“My what?” Nick looks down at the colorful bottles presented to him. “Oh my god, who the fuck needs this much lube?”

Evan laughs. “I like to provide options baby.”

Nick stares at the other boy, aghast. “Why don’t you just use plain old lube.”

“Mmm.” Evan leans down to kiss him, his teeth catching Nick’s bottom lip in a small bite. “Because I want to eat you out until your legs shake so hard you can’t keep yourself up.” The other boy ends with statement with a kiss on his forehead. “So pick.”

Nick bites his bottom lip so a pathetic whine won’t come out his mouth. “Fine, strawberry.”

There’s a knock on the door, the sound of Nate’s voice making its way through from the other side. “You’re the fucking worst, Evan. I was talking to that hot AKA girl I told you about and I was so close to kissing her. But yeah, leaving the box out here like you asked, you ingrate.”

“Sorry, man.” Evan laughs his friend’s outrage.

Evan strides to the door, opening it just a crack and crouching down to sneak his hand out before retrieving the box, closing the door firmly behind him.

Nick eyes the other boy, not quite trusting Evan quite so much now. After all, Evan quite literally just had to phone-a-friend to get condoms. “Aren’t you going to lock the door?” The other boy grins at him, the smile spreading across his face in unrestrained delight. “Why? Does it bother you? Scared someone will walk in?”

“No.” Nick raises his voice defensively, not willing to admit any sign of weakness. “Just thought it might be best since, you know, like a quarter of the school is downstairs partying.”

“Mmm, but doesn’t the possibility of getting caught turn you on baby?” Evan tilts his chin up, staring down at him teasingly, the dangerous look lighting the arousal in his groin again, feeling his cock respond even if his mind doesn’t want to admit it. “The thought that someone could walk in and see me fucking you from behind. Or on your back while I’m plowing into you. Or you bouncing on my dick. ” Evan’s eyes narrow, Nick’s dilated pupils making him more than a little excited, anticipation curling in his stomach again.

“Not really.”

“Hmmm, I thought you’d be the type that is into that sort of thing.” Evan smiles at him, all too innocently. “Maybe you will be the next time I fuck you.” Nick squeals as the other boy brings his hands up underneath his ass where he’s sitting, pushing him upwards, back into position on his hands and knees. “Don’t worry, we have plenty of time to find out if you do like it baby.” Nick moans, feeling Evan’s hands on his waist, fingers digging into his hips, spreading his ass with his hands, his thumbs digging into his skin, the slight puff of hot breath against his asshole making him automatically clench. “And it’s okay, people know what my door being closed means.”

He hears the sound of the cap being opened, the splutter of lube being squeezed out, and he hisses at the cold feeling, Evan rubbing his thumb in circles over his asshole, the feeling him pressing inwards slightly making him tense. And the other boy spreads his cheeks again, blowing, the cold making the goosebumps rise up on his skin, a shiver run through him.

Nick moans, exhaling a huge breath, his eyes rolling back in pleasure as he feels Evan’s tongue against him, lapping, licking at his asshole, smearing the lube around, the wetness spreading to the inside of his thighs. The gasp is ripped from him as he feels the other boy dip his tongue in, the heated feeling making him push his ass backwards, desperately craving more. Nick mewls as Evan alternates between pushing his tongue in and light sucks, the other boy’s nose pressed up against his skin. Fuck. And his thighs are already starting to quiver, his legs feeling weak as Evan tongue fucks him, his moans muffled and lost in the other boy’s bedsheets, his face pressed into the bed, all his effort spent trying to keep his ass nice and high up in the air for Evan, the smell of citrus on the sheets filling his nose, reminding him of the smell in the other boy’s hair.

His noises only encourage Evan, and Nick lets out a pant of desire when the other reaches around to fist his cock, the slow stroking motion making the arousal build, Evan’s thumb smearing the precum over the tip. “Fuck, Evan, please.” Nick is only half aware of the other boy, the sound of his wanton moans filling the room, flooding his mind. “P-Please, please. Get in me.” His voice is shaky, his words garbled and only half-formed, dropping from his lips like small spurts of begging before ending in breathless moans. Rinse and repeat. He feels the loss as Evan stops his ministrations, the growl about to come out, but before he can protest, he feels Evan’s finger, slicked and probing at his hole, the first digit sliding in easily as Nick dissolves into a needy moan, Evan pumping into him far too slowly.

More.

He whines, and Evan chuckles, words low and sweet. “You’re so needy baby.” Nick doesn’t even gasp as the second finger goes in, the feeling of being filled every so slightly, Evan’s fingers slick against the inside of his walls as they move in and out. The gasp only comes as the other boy stretches him out, fingers spreading apart to scissor him open, a slow and steady stretch that makes Nick whimper with want to be filled with more. “So needy and beautiful for me, on your hands and knees. More?” The other boy doesn’t wait for his response, eliciting a sharp cry from Nick as a third finger is inserted, a feeling of fullness finally overcoming him, his hole clenching around Evan’s fingers as they go in. His legs are finally starting to give out, his thighs trembling even more as Evan runs his fingers in between his legs, and the other boy finally finds the sweet spot, Nick crying out as Evan brushes against it, curling his fingers deep into his ass, releasing the tension in his body that he isn’t even aware that he’s holding. He scrabbles at the sheets, digging his fingers in, moaning brokenly. “Oh, oh, oh, theretherethere, please, oh god.”

And he’s on the brink, the repeated pleasure as Evan thrusts his fingers in sending him into a dizzy spiral, the need to release hitting him hard and fast. “Shi-Evan, ‘m gonna come, want you in me so bad, please, please– Ev, c’mon, fuck me.”

It happens so fast that Nick nearly doesn’t realize, only the sound of the condom packaging ripping, the noise seemingly too loud, drowning out everything else in his head, and his low whimper at being denied his release provoking a guttural groan from Evan.

Nick groans as he feels Evan’s tip push into him. The latter continues to push himself in gently, knowing he’s big and Nick needs to take his time to fully get used to his girth. Nick can feel himself being stretched out even further, panting heavily at the feeling of the biggest cock he’s ever had.

“That’s it,” Evan praises, “that’s my baby,” he coos, Nick’s high-pitched moan falling out of his mouth involuntarily as he forces himself to relax and not clench too much, letting Evan fill him nicely. He feels incredibly full when Evan snaps his dick in before letting go, letting Nick dictate the rhythm and rock back onto his dick. “Perfect,” Evan grunts, enjoying the view of Nick’s ass rippling as it bounces on his hips. The sound of Nick’s desperate and wet moans accompanied with the slap, slap, slap of his ass hitting the other’s hips filling the room.

It was when Nick falls into a sex-drunk state, begging and moaning as he moves without an ounce of rhythm, just pure desperation that Evan grabs his hips and arches his back even more, angling his ass even higher into the air. Nick lets out a helpless whimper as Evan thrusts straight back into him, hands angrily grabbing Nick’s hips as he gives no time to wait, just jackhammers into Nick who is desperate for that sweet relief, a string of curse words and interrupted moans loudly falling out his lips as Evan takes him roughly, quickly.

“You love it, don’t you?,” Evan grits out, thrusts stuttering and brutal as Nick knows he’s about to come, “love being bent over, thick ass in the air,” he grunts, slapping Nick’s ass with a force than means there’ll be a handprint there for days, making the other squeal. “You love being a slut for me, huh?”

“I’m – I’m – please!- ” The brunette sobs, Evan nailing him on his prostate at every thrust.

“F-fuck, Nick. I’m close.”

It’s Evan’s awed wonder and pure arousal breathed into his name that does him in, making his body tense and his hole to tighten. Nick hears Evan let off a barrage of swearing, the thrusts into him becoming more forceful, the bed creaking with his brutal pounding, Evan’s grip on his waist tightening hard enough that Nick’s sure he’ll leave bruises blooming tomorrow as a reminder of tonight. And at first he thinks he’s chasing the high, but it’s the high chasing him as the spring coiling tightly finally releases.

He comes hard and fast, his mouth open in a silent scream as he falls limp, his legs fully giving way, his body continuing to ride out whatever Evan gives him, the other boy’s final few thrusts only extending his ebbing pleasure. Nick weakly cries out when he feels Evan come inside him, pulsating against his walls. Evan presses his front to Nick’s back as he groans, his thighs shaking from exertion and the earth-shattering orgasm.

Nick winces when the other boy finally does pull out, feeling hollow as Evan brushes his lips against his ass, peppering kisses against his skin as he lets Nick sink into the bed. He feels sated, still riding the high from his orgasm, and he lets out a slight groan of protest as Evan wraps his arms around him, pulling him in to spoon, the stickiness uncomfortable against his ass. He lets the other boy do it anyway, the warm breath against the back of his neck comforting as they cuddle.

It was when he was seconds away from closing his eyes that he has the daunting realization that he wasn’t supposed to be there. He maneuvers his upper body slightly, using his arms as leverage to pry himself from Evan’s grasp, rolling himself over to face the other boy, grimacing as his ass complains. Well, that’s gonna hurt in the morning. He’s not quite sure what to say, how to respond to the other boy, who seems to be half-asleep already as well, eyes blinking slowly, gaze unfocused as he searches Nick’s face.

“Well,” Nick coughs, feeling the regret starting to seep into him at letting this beautiful stranger fuck him into the best sex he’s had in months--maybe ever. The realization that he’s likely just another weekend hookup. “Uhh, this was good.” He wants to kick himself immediately after saying it, the words feeling unwieldy and awkward in his mouth. “I mean, this was great.” The greatest I’ve ever had. “But I think I’ve got to get going now. I mean, Madi’s probably wondering where I am and stuff, and it’s getting kind of late.” Nick feels himself babbling in his panicked state, but the words make Evan’s eyes snap open, suddenly wide-awake, an incredulous look on the other boy’s face.

“What the fuck are you talking about.”

Nick chews on his lower lip, suddenly acutely aware that he’s still naked, the thought of the few agonizing minutes pulling on all his clothes before he can sneak out of Evan’s room making the feeling of dread pool in his stomach. “I mean, I’m going to leave now? That’s what you want right? Just to fuck?”

“God, no.” Evan sits up, back ramrod straight, staring at him with an intensity that pins Nick down, unmoving. “First off, Madi is not going to miss you in the slightest.” The other boy pauses. “No offense, I’m sure you two have a great friendship, but I’m pretty sure she’s still occupied trying to get her tongue to touch a pledge’s tonsils right now.” Evan knits his eyebrows together in dismay. “And second, the only place you’re going right now is into the bathroom with me so we can shower, and I can clean you off.”

“Wait, you don’t want me to leave?” Nick asks hesitantly, the hope blooming in his chest.

The other boy gives him a confused look. “Wait, what did you think this is?”

“Uhhh, a one-night stand?”

The sharp bark of laughter from Evan startles him, seemingly out of character for the situation at hand. “Oh shit, wow. I guess Madi’s plan was to just… bring you here and hope we hit it off. It worked, of course.” Evan shakes his head, amused. “Madi’s been trying to set me up with you for months. Actually, before you even broke up with your ex-boyfriend I think. She spent the whole last semester ranting to me about how she hated your ex’s guts.” Evan’s eyes darken. “Something about not treating you right.” Nick gapes at him as Evan shakes his head. “She told me she’d drag you out tonight to meet me, but I guess she didn’t exactly tell you.”

“Oh.” Nick can feel his cheeks heating up, the warm fuzzy feeling entering his veins with an exhilaration he doesn’t expect. “So this wasn’t a one-time thing?”

“No, baby.” Evan sighs, pulling him into a hug, planting a kiss on his forehead before dragging him down into an embrace on the bed. “I’ll fuck you forever. Let me treat you dinner tomorrow? Maybe also a blowjob afterwards.”

Ugh, how romantic.

Maybe Nick doesn’t quite mind being called baby after all.

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tags: @taycherouz08 @piecesofreeses @ameerahsblog @nicksbf @thenickgirl

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