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lazyjellyfish300 · 3 months

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In Between the Bookshelves📚

AU Librarian!Miguel O'Hara x Fem grad student reader

(image isn't mine, found it on Instagram under the account @/ brokenohara and asked for their permission to post it)

Synopsis: a normal trip to the library results in a little bit more than you were expecting when you meet the new librarian on duty. Word count 4.6k

A/N: reposting this new and hopefully improved version of one of my very first Miguel fics I deleted a while back. I tried to make him more awkward and cute🖤🤓. Still not totally confident in the smut but oh well. Writing smut is so hard sometimes? Or maybe my skills have gone down, idk 😫 Hope you enjoy...

TW: MINORS DNI, SMUT TOWARDS THE END: FINGERING, ORAL SEX F receiving, Gag(he uses his shirt to muffle your moans) Public sexual activity, talk of anxiety, mention of family troubles and anti-deity/religion language

It's 7:00 pm on a rainy Tuesday night in the middle of October. You just got out of your evening Database Systems class. You can't help but feel poetic as you stroll down the grey, soaked, Manhattan streets twirling your umbrella, hot coffee in a cardboard cup in hand. Your shoulders begin to ache from the thin faux leather straps of your backpack. You're wearing your favorite brown sweater over a short sleeved black dress that hits you mid-thigh, with some holey black tights and your favorite knock-off Doc Martens. Damn, I still need to write that 2 page paper that's due tomorrow..

You decide at the last minute to spend your night at the library. You know you won't get anything done if you go back to your apartment. You spin on your heel and pick up the pace as you head hastily towards the NYIT library in Manhattan.

The library is pretty dead except for a group of three people sitting together in the middle table talking in hushed voices, one woman sitting on the floor scrolling with a laptop, and one jock looking fellow sitting at the computers, cracking his knuckles and bouncing his knee anxiously as he scans his assignment he's typing.

You sit down at the empty table right next to the librarian's desk. Since you're a regular here you recognize Polly, the librarian on duty who is a plump woman who looks to be in her 30s with short curly brown hair, wearing a mustard yellow cardigan and brown corduroy pants tonight. She's stapling papers together and gives you a small nod in acknowledgement as you sit down at the table in front of her desk.

She whispers to you, "I'm actually heading out for the evening, but the new person on duty should be here any minute now if you need any assistance."

You nod, and, speak of the devil, here he comes. You suddenly feel your chest get hot when you lay your eyes on the new librarian.

Tall, dark, and handsome would be the simplest way to define this man's appearance, but that would be a very feeble attempt at doing him justice. Sculpted bicep muscles push against the sleeves of his flannel with the cuffs rolled up halfway on his thick forearms. The flannel is unbuttoned and flaps gently away from his body as he walks, a white t-shirt underneath. He has broad, wide, shoulders and a narrow waist. He's also wearing dark wash athletic jeans and a pair of canvas slip ons. His hair has one stubborn strand in front from his small widow's peak that falls endearingly in the middle of his forehead. His most disarming quality is his eyes. A shade of brown that's earthy and natural like the sediment that decorates stream beds. He wears a stoic expression under large framed glasses.

He nods and mutters a "thank you" to the woman librarian as she shimmies into her coat and leaves. His eyes notice you and latch onto you momentarily. You feel your cheeks grow warm and you turn back to your laptop, unable to resume where you left off, wanting to start a conversation with him but not sure how. After a few painful moments of silence, and a quiet rumble outside from the ongoing rainstorm, you decide to break the ice by telling him your name. He blinks as you tell it to him, and you continue trying to make small talk to try and prod more out of him.

"Have I seen you here before? I come here a lot and I don't think I've met you yet."

"Miguel O'Hara," he answers shortly, but politely. "I'm a grad student. I started working for the university in exchange for assistance with my tuition."

You nod, feeling the heat leave your cheeks a little bit as you realize you could have a normal conversation with this man, and not just be an awkward mess around him the entire time. When he mentions he's a student, you realize you have something in common with him and try to go from there.

"These mid-terms are going to be the death of me. I have just one more paper to turn in then I can finally breathe, thank God..."

Miguel blows a short puff of air out of his nose seemingly in agreement, but doesn't say anything else.

He's quiet. Truth is you are too, and you're stepping way more out of your comfort zone than you normally would. Amazing what a pair of charming brown eyes could do to you.

"Honestly, if I had to work anywhere on campus I'd pick the library too. Seems peaceful with minimal people around, and everyone's required to be quiet by default. The ultimate dream workplace."

Miguel can't figure out why this stranger keeps talking to him, but you brought up a point he feels he needs to clarify.

"Oh, you'd be surprised. Most people that come in here are loud and inconsiderate as hell. And there's always that one person who hasn't heard of shocking headphones. Always."

The corner of your mouth raises. "God, that would drive me insane. Being a librarian isn't all it's cracked up to be, huh?"

Miguel shakes his head. "No. More like a glorified adult babysitter who knows where the historical fiction section and restrooms are located, and that's about it. That's literally the only two questions I get asked all day." He turns to look at you more fully, this conversation a slight breath of fresh air, the first chance he's gotten in a while to air out his grievances as the night librarian.

He continues, complaining about the horny couples he's had the misfortune of overhearing get busy on the beanbags in the far corner, and the people who leave random drinks and empty chips bags on the shelves and seem to have forgotten what alphabetical order means when they put books back.

You listen to all of it, nodding your head, and let out a cackle at his expressions he's making with those defined, bushy brows of his. He talks with his hands and it's a little endearing to watch him be so animated. This expressive side you've managed to crack through beneath his solemn exterior.

Miguel feels warmth rise in his body at the sound of your laugh for the first time. It's genuine and hearty, and honestly it's funnier than whatever bad quip he just made and he can't help but feel a little more attracted to you after hearing it. You were a good listener, and he appreciated that a lot about you.

You glance at the windows across the room, nodding in its direction with a remark about the weather, how rainstorms are your favorite. He tells you he loves them as well.

Soon, the others have shifted out of the library and he's now sitting in the chair across from you leaning his chin in his hand, listening to you speak as the rain gently pelts the windows outside.

He finds out you're originally from a smaller town, and you came to New York City for college and to escape your overbearing parents. You're 26 years old and trying to finish this Master's degree after taking one too many semesters off. You tell him about your mom who's a bit of a pushover, and your dad who's kind of an asshole.

He tells you he's 29 and has a younger brother who lives on the other side of the city, and his mom is similar to yours. She's kind but tends to set herself on fire to keep her kids warm. Like you, his dad is also a bit of an ass.

You're both introverted, but you can fake it when you need to, which he appreciates, otherwise he never would have been brave enough to say something to you this evening.

You two share a love of education and coffee. You discuss religion.

"I just don't get it, I'm supposed to love this guy and accept Him into my heart because He died for my sins even though I didn't ask Him to do that? But yet if I break any of His rules I get sent to the Inferno for all of eternity?"

"Sounds like a toxic relationship." Miguel quips as he spins your nearly empty coffee cup across the table absentmindedly.

"Exactly!"

You two talk about love as he shuffled some stray books back to their rightful place.

"C'mon, I know you've had to have dated at least once."

Miguel shakes his head. "Well, I did date a girl in high school. Knew her since the 7th grade. But she pretty much ripped my heart out when I saw her making out with one of my buddies on graduation night. I've had a couple dates here and there since then but that's it."

You click your pen. "Damn, so we both have exes from hell that we dated in high school?"

Miguel nods his head. "It would appear we do. I'm sorry you know the pain and annoyance of adolescent heartbreak too."

You shrug your shoulders. "It happens, y'know? It's like one of those things in life you're just meant to experience. It's like, unavoidable you know? And there's nothing you can do about it. What would you call that? Like not a trope per se, but almost like.... destiny?"

Miguel shrugs in return, "Like a canon event?"

You raise your eyebrows. "Yeah... exactly. How'd you come up with that?"

The ghost of a smirk appears on his face, "Just made sense to me, I guess."

You two sit at the table again and he asks about your childhood and you explain that you suffered from anxiety as long as you can remember and he looks at you with sympathetic eyes.

You do your best to try and ignore what feels like his knee pressing against your calf under the table. The thought of touching him sends heat waves through your body, but you remain frozen in place to send the message you're not opposed to more contact. Miguel feels it too, and deep down his leg is falling asleep with the way it's positioned but he's too nervous to move, either.

You both love the nighttime over mornings, and you show him one of your favorite playlists. He smiles at you tenderly as he holds one of the earphones to his ear.

Soon, it's 10:30 pm and he needs to do his closing duties. Luckily, there weren't any patrons who needed his assistance during his whole shift, proving his point earlier. Before he excuses himself, you two sit in silence for the longest time, both trying to gauge if now's the time to say goodbye to one another, but neither of you wanting to actually be the one who does.

Not sure if it was the absence of any light outside, the late hour, the good conversation you two shared, or a combination of all three, but the ripple of attraction you harbored for him has now washed over you completely and morphed into a formidable wave, threatening to take over your whole body, the darkness of this library and persistence of the ongoing storm outside pushing you closer to him.

He's staring at the corner of your laptop, similar feelings ebbing through him, not sure what's got into him. The art of flirting turned itself into uncharted territory for him a longggg time ago.

He finally decided to look at you but you're already looking at him and he snaps his gaze back down onto the bare table below him, silently cursing in his head as a shade of red fluster rises in his cheeks.

You realize you're going to have to be the one to be brave this time again. "Well, this has been fun...."

Miguel scoffs, starting to bounce his leg under the table. "You say that in the most sarcastic tone known to man."

You return with a scoff of your own, adding a smile, "Well I mean, technically you were working this whole time, isn't that boring?"

Miguel shrugs, the heat in his face returning. "You made it more fun..." The volume in his voice decreasing to a murmur.

You look down as well, your heart fluttering in your chest. You really wanted to kiss him. Or just be closer to him, you don't know why. Of course he was cute as hell but after talking to him for hours, there was no denying a spark had formed. You just didn't know whether one or both of you would make the first move to actually do something about it.

Miguel can't believe that he's actually going to try and attempt to ask you to stay longer with him, but he's going to. Just to hang out some more, maybe keep up that amazing conversation you two were sharing just before this. Completely innocent.

Well, if the way the glow from the desk lamp keeps on making your face look so warm and alluring, he's not sure he'll have the strength to shut down any escapades that ensue later, as long as you're completely up for it, of course.

He inhales "Um...so not sure if you have things to do later or..."

You look at him, pupils widening with anticipation at his pending question.

He goes to say, "I was wondering if you wanted to keep hanging out," but it gets combined with the phrase, "Do you want to stay here a little longer," and the word jumbo that exits his mouth is a little incoherent.

"Was wondering if you were wondering to stay and keep hanging longer out?"

You blink rapidly at his blunder, and he groans, placing his face in his hands.

You immediately feel bad for him, shaking your head and sliding a hesitant hand towards his arm. You stumble over your words too sometimes and it's always fucking humiliating when it happens, so you feel no judgement towards him whatsoever. If anything now he's even more attractive. Every little cute thing about him is just pushing you towards him closer than ever before.

Your fingertips skim across the top of the table and press gently into his forearm. He slowly rolls his head to look at you, his cheek resting in his arms as his eyes look at you from behind his glasses which are slightly askew from the way his face is positioned.

His face is still red, but his heart flutters at your sweet smile. "Sorry, my brain just...takes a dump on me when I try to be smooth sometimes..." Miguel mumbles with a weak chuckle, running his hands through his hair.

You shake your head. "I do the same thing...but to answer your question....yes please..." Your voice becomes quieter at the word "please", an trickle of lust you added on purpose, hoping he's picking up on the vibe you're putting down with the way you're gazing into his eyes, your fingers pressed against his arm, the subtle scoot closer you just made with your chair.

Miguel releases a shaky breath, oh, he's paying attention alright. Damn it all if he doesn't take the leap right now. He decides to ask one more time to be sure, slowing down so he gets it right this time.

"Will....you stay longer, with me?" his voice is low, almost a whisper even though it's only the two of you in his dark library, but it's dripping with seduction. A low rumble from the rain clouds interrupts the pause between his question and your answer.

"Yeah..." you say softly back with double affirmation, a sneaky smile forming on your lips. He flashes a dazzling smile back at you, a woozy feeling in his stomach for what's about to happen in the next few minutes.

He excuses himself and goes back to his desk, typing on his computer, the excitement of having you alone making him just type nonsense for the first few moments, wheeling away some carts to the back and stowing a stray book back where it belongs.

It's now 11 pm. Closing time. Miguel turns off all the lights except for his small desk lamp. The clouds are still rolling and rumbling outside with the wind whistling against the windows. Raindrops are still decorating the street. It's a beautifully dark, sensual scene just for the two of you.

He laces his fingers in between yours and leads you to a dark space in between two large bookshelves. His hand is clammy, and he's a little embarrassed about it on the inside but you squeeze it reassuringly. There was literally nothing he could do at this point to make your crush on him go away. The shelves tower over both of you, even Miguel, who's 6 foot 9.

He leans a hand against the shelf just above and to the right of your head. He accidentally pins a piece of your hair under his hand, making you wince a tiny bit.

"Augh.."

Miguel's eyes dart in alarm to search for what he did that caused you pain and he realizes your hair is trapped under his hand. He pulls it away, shaking his hand and flicking his fingers in an effort to free any of your strands from it. "Goddamit...."

He rolls his head backwards in exasperation at his epic failure of having zero game tonight. You hold onto the flaps of his flannel, making him look at you. "Hey, hey come on...it's okay...."

He finally looks down at you and his lips fall open at your beauty, his heart rate speeding up much more quickly now, and he brings a shaky hand to your face. In his mind, he can't help but realize he's being a huge hypocrite, committing the same sins as his horny patrons of getting busy in the library. But seriously though, at least he had the decency to make sure it was after closing when he was off the clock.

You feel your knees go weak as he brings his other hand to your face, pulling down your bottom lip with his thumb. He wets his lips and he leans in pressing his tongue gently in the space he opened in your bottom lip, begging to be let in. You oblige immediately, diving forward into his soft lips, goosebumps appearing on your arms.

Oh fuck....this kiss felt good. He forgot how nice it felt to share intimacy with someone, those feelings that laid dormant for so long rising and nearly bubbling past the surface. It's all coming back to him as he just wills himself to get lost in the warmth of your mouth, the sheer layer of your Chapstick leaving a tasty feeling on his tongue.

You considered yourself decently experienced, but the way his lips move on their own show you he's a force to be reckoned with and you'd be more than happy to sit back and let him handle things...this handsome, geeky, sweet librarian...

The noises you two make as you desperately kiss each other are little shuffles as you bump into the shelf behind you, with an occasional "oh fuck...," from Miguel. Hearing how turned on he's getting causes you to let your first moan escape your lips.

Once he hears it, he needs more. His hands make their way to your ass and hoist you up onto an empty bookshelf ladder and he sets you down on one of the rungs. You grab his shirt in your fists, not tearing your lips away from his.

"Do you care about these?" Miguel says softly, out of breath, his mind running a million miles a minute before his actions can catch up to him, gently pinching the thin material of your tights between his thumb and pointer finger as his palms grip the soft flesh of your outer thighs. You shake your head no, wanting to fuck already.

Then, his hand is in your crotch, ripping a whole right in the middle, tearing away at the fabric concealing your ripe pussy away from him as though it's the cover of a brand new novel. His cold pointer finger hooks behind your panties and pulls it to the side. You gasp loudly as you feel his finger and the cold air hit your soaked heat.

He chuckles, his breaths still coming out in rapid, succession, the baritone hum of his voice only adding to the wetness between your legs.

"Sorry, my hands are cold..." Then you can't believe what's happening when he drops to his knees, spreading you open like a book. His elbows pin your knees against the sides of the ladder, the wood pressing painfully into your kneecaps, but the sensation he gives you next makes you forget about the whole thing.

His tongue glosses over your wet pussy like a finger stroking the edge of a page. His nose tickles the tiny hairs sprouting from it as he takes a deep breath in, the smell of you going straight to his cock. He teases the lips of your pussy for a moment, an agonizing back and forth along the slit...

....back....and..... forth

"God....you're so wet..."

Back.....

"Miguel..." you whimper..

and forth...

"Fuck...." your fingers shake as you ball them into a fist...

before his tongue dips into your wet hole. Your back arches on instinct, making your body lurch forward, accidentally pushing his tongue further into you which he welcomes eagerly by gripping low on your ass to hold you in place.

You shudder and twitch violently, throwing your head back at the insanely divine attention he's injecting between your thighs. Miguel pauses for a moment, tenderly licking the inside of your thigh before sealing it with a kiss as his eyes flicker up to you.

"You okay?...." he whispers.

You release a shaky breath you didn't know you were holding, a slightly empty feeling as the mind numbing pleasure was abruptly switched off.

"Yeah, yeah...I'm okay."

Miguel reassumes his position, tongue fucking you. The soft pad of his tongue fondling the plush walls inside you. He lets out a low groan and he feels you turn to putty in his grasp, his head gently bobbing as his tongue completes lap after lap eating you, enjoying you, savoring you....every drop from that pretty pussy soon seeping out of his mouth and dribbling down his chin.

Your moans grow louder than they ever have, plucking him from his pussy-drunk state. He stands up in a panic and rips off his flannel, bunching it up as his eyes do a quick scan to make sure you're both still all alone.

"Shhhh.....baby, we need to be quiet.....bite this for me."

His angelic face comes up to look at you, his forehead pressing tenderly against yours and your eyes go half lidded at the sight of your arousal glistening down his chin, shiny on his thick neck from the thin flickers of moonlight that have managed to leak through the darkened windows of the library.

You do as you're told, biting his flannel and he stuffed it hastily in your mouth, making a makeshift gag as your eyes water. His elbows assume their position pinning your thighs back and he's back between them again.

You understand why he made you a gag as he goes directly for your clit this time. You yelp, your sound muffled by the fabric. Your nails dig into his shoulders, two perfect handles while you ride his face. The material of his shirt is thin and you feel every muscle ripple under your palms as he moves to keep fucking you with his mouth.

Your clit throbs to near overstimulation but Miguel doesn't relent. He swirls his tongue with low sighs of appreciation, unable to tear himself away from the wet heaven in front of his face.

His saliva and your slick mix together until it's all the same. The love you're dripping onto him and the love he's licking into you becoming a lewd stream of passion. He groans into your pussy as his bulging cock begs to relieve itself of all the cum built up with tormenting ache.

He decides he wants to watch you cum. He gets up, replacing his tongue with his thumb and his first two fingers, pumping into you with a circular rhythm and easing your clit at a torturous pace.

"On me, baby...." he whispers.

Your eyes struggle to stay open as you look at him, a little unsure of what he said. "Mmmm?...." You ask with a high pitched sigh.

"Keep those pretty eyes on me..." he repeats, his own eyes going half-lidded from the lure of your mouth hanging open. "Fuck...."

He abandons his plan momentarily as he rips his flannel from your mouth to kiss you again. You invade his mouth with your tongue and he mumbles your name again in response. You start to taste yourself and then whimper when you realize the pleasure is beginning to become too much.

"Miguel," you pant. "Baby, it's so much...." your breaths begin to hyperventilate.

Miguel gives a low sigh when you say his name, his cock straining once more when he realized he drew you to say it. He tilts his head at you, his jaw open and curls into a smile when he sees how crazy he's driving you.

"Cum f'me, baby. Wanna watch you while you do..."

You try to look at a spot on the ceiling but Miguel interrupts your concentration when he moves his head to keep himself in your vision. The spiciness of this sexy encounter banishing all fears he had before. No, he won't let you look at anything else when you cum.

He gives a loud grunt and clasps a hand over your mouth, fingers turning white, muffling your cry of sweet release as you squirt all over his flannel, your passion causing a few books to collapse from the shelf.

You shake and start to shiver all over as the sweat you produced during all the action starts to cool. Your hands are tingly and numb. Miguel gives a soft chuckle and presses a soft kiss into your temple with his wet lips and another one on your mouth before he returns his tongue to your thighs, collecting any remaining arousal left behind.

You rest your head back on the ladder rung behind your head, reeling in your come down. He smiles and plants a kiss into your thigh before bidding it farewell, then comes up and hugs you, nestling you in his tantalizing embrace, as he rests his cheek in your hair.

"Thank you..." you murmur, only barely sobering up from your high, his musk and cologne delivering you to a whole new state of intoxication.

He smiles down at you in response and holds your face in both hands, running his thumbs along your cheeks.

"See me tomorrow?"

You practically melt at those big brown eyes of his, glasses still slightly askew and the neck of his wrinkled shirt dampened with his sweat, silently hoping you will.

You beam up at him and nod enthusiastically and he chuckles and plants a line of kisses on your neck as you giggle underneath him. After a few soft hugs and another round of delicate kisses, he walks you to the door. Making you promise you'll call him as soon as you get home as a reluctant compromise at his uneasiness of you walking alone in the dark.

He watches you walk away into the night and doesn't stop until he sees you safely board the bus. He turns around and goes back inside the library, shutting off his desk light with a small click.

#miguel o'hara #miguel atsv #spotify #miguel ohara #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara smut #miguel ohara imagine #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel ohara x fem!reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #Spotify

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de4dlyniightshade · 4 months

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꩜ EVERY MAN GETS HIS WISH

꩜ PAIRING: spencer reid x afab!reader

꩜ RATING: +18, mdni

꩜ WORD COUNT: 2.3k

꩜ WARNINGS/CONTAINS!: smut, perv!sub!spencer, softdom!reader, underwear stealing/sniffing, mommy kink, male masturbation, handjob, voyeurism, exhibitionism, hint of degrading, praise, dacryphilia, overstimulation.

꩜ PROMPT: this ask!

[WARNING!] - explicit sexual content! mdni!

꩜ A/N: kinda hate this but a few people said they wanted a perv!spence fic so here it is!(although short and mid)

Spencer was a smart boy, obviously, but sometimes he could just be so naive. I mean, come on, you didn't just leave your used underwear in his apartment by accident. Well, actually, the first time was completely accidental, but when you used the bathroom a few days later and saw the exact same pair in his laundry basket, a familiar staining on the delicate fabric, you knew exactly what he did with them, so you decided to make it a little habit to leave your underwear for him as a treat.

This was one of those times. You had stayed the night before, showering in the morning and leaving your lacy underwear that you wore specifically with the intention of leaving them on the floor of his bathroom, an irresistible trap that he simply couldn't pass up, waiting for you to leave to spend the day with Penelope so he could snatch them up, retreating to his bedroom and tugging his pyjama pants down, settling on the edge of the bed.

He always felt guilty doing this, but he just couldn't help himself. He was always so shy around you, so flustered and bashful all the time, hardly ever initiating anything with you, let alone outright asking you to do things to him when he needed you, so this was the next best thing in his mind. It wasn't logical, but it didn't have to be to anyone but him.

Spencer let out a shaky breath as he slowly wrapped your underwear around his shaft, whining as he stroked upwards to his tip, the slightly rough material of the lace making his cock throb, whimpering at the familiar sensation.

He let his eyes flutter closed, his head tipping back and his jaw falling slack, whimpers and moans spilling from his lips as he stroked himself with your used underwear. The whole thing was so perverted and wrong, and he knew it, but he just couldn't stop himself. No matter how hard he tried to tell himself not to, he just couldn't.

"o-oh p-please…" He moaned to nobody, his thighs trembling slightly as he ran his thumb over his tip through the material, moaning out your name as he did and pressing his lips together as he whimpered pathetically.

His breathing picked up, coming out in gasps and pants as he stroked himself faster, his back arching as his mind went numb, imagining you touching him, your body on top of his, your hand wrapped beautifully around his cock, your lips on his neck, hands on his body, words in his ear, you. all of you, his head swimming with nothing but you, so much so that he didn't hear the front door open or your footsteps coming closer and closer to his room.

You had never actually planned to hang out with Penelope today; it was all a ruse to catch him in the act. You wanted to know exactly what he was doing with your underwear, even though you already knew he was jerking off into them, but you wanted to see it—to catch him cumming into your underwear like a pervert.

You couldn't help but smirk to yourself as you heard him on the other side of the door already. It had only been about five minutes since you left, and he was already whimpering and moaning desperately, hearing your name fall from his lips, his voice high-pitched and airy.

As if it were staged, his door was left ajar, just enough for you to peek in without being seen, and you couldn't resist, holding your breath as you peered through the gap, clenching around nothing at what you saw. Your beautiful, sweet boy is fucking his own fist with your dirty underwear and moaning your name.

You stood and enjoyed the sight for a moment, drinking in the opportunity to watch him without his knowledge, seeing him so brazen, not holding himself back as he usually does around you.

Once you were satisfied watching him, you slowly and silently pushed the door open, leaning on the doorframe with your arms crossed over your chest and smirking at him.

"Naughty boy," you tutted, shaking your head in feigned disappointment, Spencer gasping, eyes wide and alarmed as his head snapped to look over to the sound of your voice, quickly tugging down his t-shirt to cover what he was doing, cheeks flushed cherry red.

"I-i- you- y-you were- when- i-" he stuttered, scrambling to get anything out and failing completely, the words getting caught in his throat at the sight of you, a smug look on your face, and then he knew, he knew he was caught.

"I-I'm sorry," he whimpered, looking away from you as tears sprung from his eyes, completely humiliated. The thought of you being disgusted with him made his stomach churn with worry.

"Oh, sweet boy, no need to be sorry; you just couldn't help yourself, right?" You honeyed, slowly stalking towards him, revelling in the way he gulped, averting your gaze, and nervously shifting where he sat before he nodded shakily.

"Aw, pretty little thing, show mommy," you husked, taking his chin into your fingertips and turning his face to look at you, him gazing up at you through his lashes with wide eyes, his cheeks flushing impossibly darker as he let out a shaky breath, wetting his lips as he nodded, hesitantly lifting his shirt to expose himself to you, the sight of your underwear wrapped around his painfully hard, leaking cock almost making you moan, instead pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

"Oh my...so pretty, baby," you murmured, cupping his face and stroking your thumb over his cheekbone, Spencer whining at your praise, averting your gaze nervously, feeling shy at the whole situation.

"Go on then, don't let me stop you," you murmured, smiling sweetly at him as he turned his face away from you, whining softly and letting out a shaky breath, swallowing thickly as he pressed his thighs together.

"I said go on," you reiterated, quirking a brow at him with a knowing look on your face, watching as his eyes darted around the room before he hesitantly moved to take your underwear into his hand, lifting them off his shaft before you gripped his wrist to stop him.

"No, no, I want to see you cum all over mommy's panties," you smirked, lowering yourself to be eye level with him, fighting a smile at the way he gulped, breathing shakily. He just looked so precious that you couldn't resist surging forward to lock your lips with his, the sudden action making Spencer gasp into your mouth before he let his eyes close, moaning softly against your lips.

The kiss was short-lived as you pulled away, tugging on his bottom lip as you did just to tease him, the feeling of your teeth grazing his plush, soft lip making him let out a needy whine, his eyes fluttering open to see you staring right back into them.

You smiled sweetly as you leaned in to press your lips ever so gently to his ear. "Now, touch yourself for mommy, and maybe you'll get a reward," you whispered, running the tip of your tongue over the shell of his ear before pulling away, taking a few steps back for the best view of him.

"Y-Yes, mommy," he breathed, slowly wrapping his hand around his shaft once again, swallowing thickly as he stroked upwards, pressing his lips together to keep himself quiet as he circled his palm over his sensitive tip, the material of your underwear dampening with precum.

"Good boy," you praised softly, the feeling of having complete power over him making your head swim with the possibilities of what else you could make him do with just a simple kiss and some words of praise, the smallest thing making him completely pliant, bending to your will in any way you desired.

Spencer whined loudly, stopping his movements and turning his cheek to you in embarrassment. "I-I can't when you're looking," he pouted, letting out a disapproving huff.

"I have to do everything for you, y'know that?" You scoffed, rolling your eyes dramatically as you quickly moved to stand between his spread thighs, confusion on his flushed face before you placed your hand on his chest, roughly pushing him back to lay down, your change in demeanour making him let out a gasp that turned into a loud whimper when you wrapped your hand around his tip and squeezed, not too hard that it hurt but hard enough that his body twitched, his back arching and thighs trembling.

"Sit still," you warned, a domineering tone in your voice, your darkened eyes shooting up to glare into his wide ones, watching him nod quickly, a sadistic smile tugging at your lips as you began pumping his needy cock, quiet gasps and whimpers slipping past his lips at your touch.

You set a brutal pace immediately, stroking him from base to tip with your own underwear. The added stimulation of the lace only enhanced the pleasure, but he was just so sensitive that he could hardly form a single word, already fucked out and desperate to cum after barely a minute. You always adored how reactive he was to your touch, always whimpering so cutely, his pretty porcelain thighs twitching and tensing, his back arching towards you, and his hips rutting into you, whether it was your cunt, your mouth, or your fist, like now.

"o-oh mommy! p-please!" He moaned loudly, panting and writhing as you towered over him, fist-fucking his cock at a pace you knew would make him act this way. "I said sit still," you reminded him, huffing as you placed your free hand on his tensed stomach, pinning him to the bed to stop him from moving so much.

"S-sorry, 'm sorry, j-just so s-sensitive, mommy," he whimpered pathetically, tears spilling from the outer corners of his eyes, streaking his temples and into his hair. The sight of him so wrecked and fucked out already made you clench around nothing, your underwear sticking to you awkwardly.

"You wanna cum baby boy?" You asked in such a sickeningly sweet tone, a complete contrast to the way you were practically torturing him, purposefully overstimulating him. It wasn't like it was hard to do so; his cock was always sensitive to you.

"y-yes! Wanna cum, mommy!" He gasped, rutting his leaking cock into your fist that was wrapped around his tip, focusing on his most sensitive point just to see him tremble and hear his pitiful sounds.

"Admit you're a dirty boy; tell mommy how much of a dirty little pervert you are," you teased, a cheshire grin pulling at your lips as he gasped and whimpered desperately, tears flowing from his eyes, which were squeezed shut, his hands gripping the sheets at his sides as he thrust his cock into your hand, which you had stopped moving completely, just watching him fuck your panties to get himself off.

"Mommy's d-dirty boy! 'm your dirty boy!" He gasped, his voice whiny and pathetic, saying anything you'd tell him to as long as you'd let him cum, completely cumdrunk and desperate, a mess to your touch.

"Such a good boy," you praised, moving your hand once again to stroke his length, the head red and swollen. So desperate for release, how could you say no?

"m-mommy! c-can't-mmph 'm gonna c-cum, mommy!" Spencer cried, his body writhing, trying to squirm away from you against his will, completely overwhelmed and overstimulated, turning to bury his face into the sheet as you moved to hold him down by his hip, only stroking him faster and harder.

"Cum for mommy, baby, that's it," you husked, the sound of him sobbing and whimpering, muffled by the sheets, making you bite down on your bottom lip. He was the perfect submissive, completely compliant and obedient to you, always so good, so eager to please his mommy.

"m-momma! i-" He cried, cutting himself off with a choked sob as he came hard, his release spilling down your hand and onto your underwear as well as spurting all over his shirt, making a complete mess of himself.

"So good, baby, you did so well for mommy," you praised sweetly, slowly stroking him through his orgasm as pleasure wracked his body, twitching and trembling as he whimpered quietly and pitifully into the sheets.

"I-I can't, mommy, 's too much," Spencer whined, squirming away from you as you decided he'd had enough after briefly contemplating forcing another orgasm out of him, but the way he was gasping for breath, splayed out so beautifully fucked out under you, made you decide not to. Instead, you shifted to rest your knees on either side of his hips, leaning down to capture his lips in a gentle kiss.

He returned the kiss lazily and out of rhythm, so exhausted and hazy from his high that he could hardly keep up with you. "Want mommy to clean you up, baby? How's a nice bath sound, hm?" You spoke soothingly and quietly as you pulled away, stroking your thumb over his smooth cheek.

"Yes, please," he croaked, his voice completely spent and raspy from all the noise he'd been making, and you couldn't help but coo at him, pouting out your lip and looking at him with big doe eyes, quickly pressing a kiss to each of his flushed cheeks and then his lips before pulling away, standing up from the bed to run him a warm bath, but not before you tucked your hands under your skirt to tug down your underwear, Spencer not noticing what you were doing as he laid with his eyes closed.

You bit down on your lip teasingly as you resisted laughing at your own devious plan, untangling your underwear from your ankles before gently tossing them. The flimsy material landed perfectly on Spencer's face, startling and confusing him as he lifted the material. "They're a bit wet, but you like 'em used," you teased, smiling devilishly at him as he blushed a deep pink, still clutching the soiled material in his hand as you turned on your heels to leave the room, and he just couldn't resist bringing them back to his face, inhaling your scent like the pervert he is.

@cancersunthatsit @mindfullycriminal @teachugger69 @queermaxwooo @olives-and-sunshine @ac0511 @reidsdaisies @iluvreid @unimportantweirdo @criminalmindswife

(if you wanna be tagged when i post fics lmk!)

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cadavercowboy · 5 days

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Hot Rod

Anonymous said: i need a eddie munson fic where reader is pretty bold. I had a dream where i texted him "i wanna blow you" and he just responded "hot." i need this so bad 😭 Hmmm. *cracks knuckles* Alright, allow me to extrapolate a bit here... Idk why Eddie is a mechanic, it just felt right. I believe he would find this ridiculously hot and would lose his silly little mind if his girl got all confident and cocky about giving him the schlurpy durp.

Pairing: Mechanic!Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: You send Eddie some dirty texts and he takes full advantage of the opportunity afforded to him.

Word Count: 2.1k+

Warnings: Explicit content (18+ only). Sexting. Oral sex (it's sloppy toppy, guys!). Slight degradation. Face-fucking. Cum swallowing.

A/N: Reposting this because I privated the original and tumblr decided to fucking eat it. :-)

He heard the ping of his phone between the high-pitched whirs of Wayne’s pneumatic drill, though he’d ignored it on account of the grimy layer of black grease coating his fingers. Another ping and then a third let him know who it was texting him. A sudden sense of urgency had him ducking out from under the hood of the latest vintage car his uncle had him helping to rebuild so he could reach for the red rag on the workbench to clean his hands just enough to check his messages. The sight of your nickname splashed across the screen had prompted a small smile, but the content of your messages had his jaw falling slack.

“Eddieee…”

“I wanna blow you.”

Short. Sweet. Straight to the point. Eddie had licked his lips, fighting back a groan as he re-read the texts.

“Miss the way you feel in my mouth…wish I could taste you right now.”

The bold statement had caught Eddie off guard. While you’re far from a prude, it wasn’t usual for you to so blatantly express your desires. He wasn’t sure how to respond, but he knew a simple text wouldn’t suffice; he needs to give you precisely what you’ve asked for. Still, he couldn’t leave you hanging so he tapped out a lackluster response, knowing he’d make up for it shortly.

“Hot.”

Eddie had stopped giving a shit about his greasy fingers as he dragged a hand through his hair and tried to come up with an excuse to give Wayne so he could get home to you. Sure, he felt a little guilty about flaking on his uncle, but the constriction in his pants won out over the one which tightened his chest.

“Hey, Wayne?” Eddie called hesitantly.

His uncle popped up from his stooped position near the rear wheel of the cherry red Coupe, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“I’m pretty beat,” Eddie lied easily. “Think I’m gonna call it a day, man.”

Wayne nodded as he stood, tossing a rusted bolt into a coffee can already half-full of discarded hardware. He wiped his hands on the stained material of his navy jumpsuit, wondering why his nephew had suddenly decided to pack it up for the night as he checked the dirty face of his watch.

“Alright, kid. I’ll probably be outta here pretty soon, too.”

Relieved that Wayne hadn’t questioned him, Eddie returned his tools to the rack and cleaned up his workspace so as to avoid any reprimanding from his uncle. His phone chirped again and he snuck a quick peek as inconspicuously as possible. He wished he hadn’t.

“Come home and fuck my throat.”

“Jesus goddamn Christ,” Eddie muttered, nearly dropping the device.

Wayne eyed him wordlessly, studying his shaggy-haired nephew as he fumbled with his cellphone and shoved it in his pocket for the second time in the last few minutes. He suspected the jingling electronic had something to do with Eddie’s sudden desire to leave, though he said nothing.

“See you tomorrow, Ed,” Wayne grumbled. “Tell your girl I said hello.”

Eddie’s steps faltered, unsure if his uncle’s words were intentional or if he’s just paranoid. Wayne noticed the hesitation but pretended he didn’t, instead burying his head in the engine of his car to hide his sly smirk.

And that’s how Eddie ended up racing home to you and making it there in record time.

Though he knew you’d kill him for it, he texted you on the drive; punching the keys haphazardly — volleying his eyes between the road and the screen — to let you know he was on his way. He had every intention of testing to see whether you have the balls to back up what you’ve said and he knows you know that even without him saying so. Still, you pretended not to see his text. You feign ignorance as his booted feet come clamoring through the door.

“Baby?” Eddie calls, his voice nearly as tight as his pants had been the entire ride here.

He rounds the corner and spots you. You’re lounging on the sofa and watching something mindless on the television. You look so pretty dressed in nothing but a tattered Tom Petty tee, your bare legs stretched out and your ankles propped up on the arm of the couch. He’d love to bound across the room and ravish you right there on the worn green cushions, but he’d much rather have you make good on the earlier declarations you had made so confidently.

“Oh, you’re home,” you note with a smile, though your expression immediately darkens as you swing your body off the couch and begin to advance on him. “Finally.”

Eddie doesn’t even have a chance to say hello before you’re falling to your knees in front of him. His mouth drops open in disbelief and his arms raise at his sides; he’s not quite sure what else to do with them as your fingers deftly undo his belt and wrench his zipper down. You shove impatiently at his grease and oil-stained pants, shifting them just enough to get to what you want. There’s something so hot about the fact that you seem unphased that Eddie has come straight from work and hasn’t had a shower yet; his dick stiffens in agreement.

The warmth of your hand surrounds his half-hard erection as you reach under the waistband of his underwear and Eddie groans in bliss. Your texts already have him so torqued up, he fears he won’t last very long. If the jolts of electricity shooting through his body at the mere caress of your fingers are anything to go by, he’ll be lucky if his dick even makes it to your mouth.

“Been wanting this all day,” you purr as your fist pumps Eddie’s length, coaxing him to harden further.

His legs waver when he sees how hungrily you stare at his dick, your desperation written all over your face. Your wide, wet eyes peering up at him makes his cock throb in your hand and you lick your lips. He barely hears what you say when you mutter something about needing to taste him because your comment is lost among the sound of his broken moan as your lips surround his sensitive tip.

“Oh, shit,” Eddie whispers, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. “That’s so…s’good.”

You suckle his swollen head, intermittently flicking your tongue across the weeping slit until Eddie’s knees nearly buckle. When you lean in to drag your soft lips further down his length, Eddie comes dangerously close to exploding. A muffled moan escapes you as you taste the heady flavor of Eddie’s skin mingling with his sweat. He sucks in air between his teeth, finally looking down at you again and delving his hands into your hair to guide your movements.

As much as you love when he takes control, you want to make Eddie feel good; specifically, you want him to relax and let you take care of him. Rather than heeding the pressure of his hands, you plunge your head forward and swallow as much of his cock as you comfortably can.

Your throat constricts and your eyes begin to prickle with tears. The metal teeth of Eddie’s zipper drag along your chin when you widen your jaw to accommodate the size of him. Gently rocking your head side to side, you manage the last inch before Eddie is pulling away from you. He stops when your mouth is midway down his shaft, taking in the sight of your mouth stuffed full of him as his girth stretches your lips wide.

With your best puppy dog eyes and a dissatisfied whine, you silently plead with Eddie to allow you to proceed. You need to feel the weight of his cock on your tongue, need to bury your nose in the thatch of curls at his base until you’re gagging around him. You want it so badly.

Eddie shudders when you swirl your tongue against the thick vein that runs along the underside of his cock. Saliva gathers in the corners of your mouth as Eddie sits hot and hard between your parted lips, the slickness beginning to trickle down your chin. Something in Eddie’s gaze shifts in a way that both frightens and thrills you.

“You really want my cock that bad, huh?” he taunts, a hand circling under your jaw to force you to meet his eyes.

You nod your head carefully, your lips sliding against his turgid flesh with the movement. Eddie grunts in response as his thumb brushes along the corner of your mouth to gather some of the spit that leaks out.

“Why don’t you let me fuck your pretty little mouth then?” he adds. “Just like you said earlier. Bet you didn’t think I’d follow through.”

Eddie’s words are stern but teasing, challenging you to prove that you aren’t all talk. He doesn’t wait for an answer, instead shoves his pants and underwear lower, baring his cock and balls and the length of his pale thighs to you. He shifts his feet and brings his other hand to your face, each of his thumbs hooking in either side of your mouth as he pulls out.

“Look at me,” he commands, waiting until you obey before he continues. “Stick your tongue out.”

The wet flesh brushes against Eddie’s cock when you do, the heaviness of the appendage making your thighs clench. Eddie shoves his digits further into your mouth, tucking them between your teeth so you couldn’t close your mouth even if you wanted to. Saliva dribbles from your gaping mouth and he pushes the solid head of his cock through the moisture before shoving the stiff member back between your lips.

“You look like such a pretty little slut. Keep your eyes on me and breathe through your nose,” is all the warning Eddie growls before he thrusts his hips forward.

The first press of his hard cockhead against the back of your throat is alarming and you flinch and cough, but Eddie doesn’t relent. He thrusts with steady and smooth strokes, his hefty cock dragging over your tongue and bumping the sensitive spot that makes you gag until tears spill from your eyes. You gag and splutter and each noise only spurs him on, the pathetic sounds earning a grunt of pleasure with each slip and slide of Eddie’s slick cock.

“Stay just like that,” he snarls behind gritted teeth, making the demand as if you have any choice but to remain in his steadfast hold as he fucks your throat. “Be a good girl and let me use you.”

Just as expected, Eddie can feel his balls tightening with his impending orgasm. Adjusting your position, you brace yourself against Eddie’s forceful thrusts; cupping your hands around the backs of his bare thighs and hugging your body close to his so he can continue to fuck your face with ease.

You’re a mess of tears and drool and damn if he doesn’t wish he could stay here forever. Spit falls in steady globs on your chest, soaking your shirt. The wet sound of his cock sliding through the abundant moisture is going to be ingrained in Eddie’s head for a long, long time. Not to mention the way you whimper as you struggle to take him.

A buzzing in his ears signals the nearness of his release and Eddie holds his breath as he buries every inch of his pulsing cock in your mouth. The swollen head slips just past the tightness of your esophagus and when the muscles squeeze him, Eddie loses it.

He begrudgingly pulls back, only for the satisfaction of coating your tongue with the creamy spurts. You sniffle and whine when the warm drops hit your taste buds and fill your mouth. Though you do your best to keep it all contained, Eddie just keeps cumming and the abundant seed overflows and begins to ooze over your lower lip and down your chin.

“Fuck,” Eddie sighs, fisting his cock and giving it a final shake to dispel the few drops that still seep from the tip.

Not bothering to fix his disheveled clothes, Eddie crouches in front of you. He studies your soaked face and your full mouth, his cock twitching appreciatively at the debauched sight you make.

“Show me,” he whispers hotly.

You widen your jaw and stick your tongue out, careful not to let a single drop of Eddie’s cum escape. He inhales deeply, satisfied with your obedience and directs you to swallow it all. A shiver courses through you at the heated tone of Eddie’s voice, but you do as he asks. Your tongue peeks out to sweep any remaining spend from your lips, though Eddie beats you to it.

His large hand cups the back of your head, pulling you in so he can capture your lips in an open-mouthed kiss. The sweet taste of you mingles with his own saltiness and Eddie moans into the kiss, his tongue tangling with yours until you’re breathless.

“What the hell got into you?” Eddie pants with amusement as he observes you with adoration and surprise.

Joseph Quinn Masterlist ✦ Writing Masterpost

#this repost is a consequence of me getting the ick & also being insecure about my own writing lol #now i have to shine a literal spotlight on my transgression by making a whole new post #anyway #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader fanfiction #eddie munson x reader fanfic #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn fanfic #joseph quinn smut #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things smut

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agustdiv1ne · 9 months

Text

ticket to nowhere (but your heart) (m) — cyj

pairing: choi yeonjun x fem!reader

genre: strangers to lovers au, photographer!yeonjun, artist!reader, fluff, angst, smսt

wc: 22.3k

synopsis: twelve days. twelve days is all you have on this godforsaken train to find the spark that will save your dying art career — but you never thought that you would find it in the enigmatic stranger that you can’t seem to stop running into.

warnings: mdni!! ageless + blank blogs dni!!!, mc is bad with feelings, is alluded to have anxiety, and is written as shorter than jjun (i'm sorry to my taller friends, i love you) + the same age as him (24), this takes place in various places across the u.s. (sorry in advance), mentions of food + alcohol, vvvvv brief depiction of potential self-injury when describing a painting, beomgyu + le sserafim's sakura, chaewon, and yunjin (called jennifer here just bc i felt like it) are featured, dom!jjun, sub!mc, soft sex, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), light begging, multiple orgasms, protected sex (hooray!), missionary, praise

note: part of @majestyjun's yeonjun bday event!! REPOSTED bc tumblr decided to not let this show up in the tags (edit: it's now showing up!!) </3 also my longest fic to date, so that's something

*:･playlist･:*

(cross-posted to ao3 here!)

masterlist

everything in your life is bland. gray.

the food that you eat, the people that you become acquainted with, the skyscrapers above you that grasp for the sky and fail to reach it — they have all become so monotone and somber and utterly lifeless. something within you gnaws at itself, aching with pain — though the sharpness of the feeling has been blunted by the passing of time — because you used to adore the city that you call home. you used to find unrivaled beauty in the skyscrapers that spread across manhattan, in the lush green parks scattered amongst the urban landscape that would turn warm and golden as summer metamorphosed into autumn, in the people that would walk by you with their unapologetic, unique fashion and confidence. the very things you used to love have dulled in hue, washes of the vibrancy you once appreciated and took significant inspiration from.

throughout your apartment lay half-baked paintings and charcoal drawings and pieces with odd compositions from that one month where you went through a mixed media phase, staring at you with their paint-streaked eyes, mocking you. finish us, their fragmentary faces scream. they beg for you to provide them with souls, to be their maker, their creator — but not quite their god. you are not pretentious enough to go that far, to paint yourself as that self-important, that narcissistic. you are far from a god. if you were, you would be in a larger apartment, a penthouse worth millions of dollars in soho or maybe the upper east side. if you were a god, you would purchase the finest art supplies in the world, have your pieces be displayed in major galleries to be auctioned off for hundreds of thousands — no, millions of dollars by pretentious art collectors to be hung up in their gaudy mansions, their own slices of heaven. however, in reality, you fall exceptionally short of a higher being; in truth, you are a rather simple woman who had transplanted herself from her suffocating hometown to brooklyn as soon as you completed your undergraduate degree. a tiny little apartment in brooklyn, new york city, new york — an adumbration of purgatory, floating somewhere between heaven and hell. trapped, trapped, trapped. nowhere to go.

sitting on your bed, the balls of your feet pressed against the cool wooden floor, you ponder if these thoughts, this density of emotions burrowing into your stomach, are a symptom of burnout. maybe even artist’s block, though in the past you’ve often remarked that the concept doesn’t exist. you had never experienced it, so in your sorely narrow-minded view, it simply couldn’t be possible, and other artists were simply blaming their laziness on this elusive concept. what a fool you were for ever thinking that. shame hangs like a heavy weight within your chest; who are you to criticize the experiences of other artists when you know how difficult a creative’s life can be? how could you be so insolent?

a raging hypocrite, really, is what you think you must be. a blank, blurry stare scans over your space, the coolness of the floor spreading up into your toes. an easel in the corner, near one of the small windows that allows for a view of mostly red brick, a sliver of blue-brown water where the hudson and east rivers meet, and a few lower manhattan skyscrapers that tower high in the air across the watery expanse. it’s not that far from your bed, which sits on the wall opposite below a second window, the slightest bit larger than the other one. most of your apartment is taken up by supplies rather than actual decor, a jar of paintbrushes on your small, round dining table in the corner near your kitchen instead of a vase of flowers, works-in-progress on the walls rather than posters, pictures.

you live and breathe art, and your entire apartment reflects that, but the oxygen is getting thinner and thinner.

even then, you’re not quite sure how long you have felt this way — it’s not as if you woke up one day and noticed the change. it wasn’t sudden like a car accident, slamming into you one second and leaving you to cope with the aftermath the next. quite the opposite, really, more akin to the tide slowly coming to shore, washing over more of your body with each incoming wave. soothing, flowing along with each ebb and flow, pulling you further and further away from the beach until you have nowhere else to go but down.

weak fingers dig into the white comforter below you, curling into the fabric with a surging desperation — for what, you are unsure. comfort? someone to hold you? you haven’t felt the embrace of another, the warm sensation of lips pressed against your own, in an embarrassingly long time. the dating world had slipped from your hands long ago, shattering on the floor like a snow globe, your wants and hopes and desires to love and be loved soaking your lacerated feet and stinging as it enters your wounds. your mind trails to beomgyu, a fellow artist who you had met when you could afford a private studio in a warehouse one burrow over. he was fun, a sappy romantic, and he made you laugh to no end — but he ruined you. he moved across the country without warning and you’d never heard from him again, leaving you heartbroken and with questions you’d never get answers to. you wonder how he’s doing now, if san francisco is treating him well. his number is still in your phone. you should delete it. you need to delete it. you need to make dinner. you need to finish that commission. you need to do a lot of things.

you need to get out of here.

fuck, you do. the desperation surging within your veins takes the new form of a beast, clawing its way up your throat. you need to leave the city and experience new places and see new things and—

finally, you wrench yourself off of your bed after hours of sitting there. snatching your laptop from the floor, you search. you search and search and search for something that will get you out of this city, albeit temporarily. several different trips to italy — too expensive, and too far away from here. an airbnb in florida — you’ve never been a fan of humidity, and you don’t think only seeing one city will be enough to sate you. come on, come on, there has to be something.

and then you find it: twelve days on a train, across the country. stops in chicago, denver, san francisco, seattle, and even a national park for half a day before looping back through chicago and back to new york. this sounds…perfect. your eyes grow as wide as saucers at the price as you scroll down. for you, it’s expensive, so fucking expensive, but…

“you need to let go and enjoy life for once,” one of your friends told you at a party a few months ago, when you were experiencing a less incapacitating version of the burnout you currently face, when you had thought it was a mere blip in your unending motivation. of course, you hadn’t listened to jennifer and her sound (and moscato-induced) advice, opting to throw yourself further into your art and ultimately fail at creating anything worthwhile. you regret it now, because you feel stuck. terribly, utterly stuck — but this is your chance to change that.

you need this; you can make the sacrifice to your already thinning bank account, you think. let go, enjoy life. let go, enjoy life — you repeat those four words over and over again as you type in your card information, as you click the button to book the trip, as you read over the confirmation email that outlines the steps you need to take before you leave. let go, enjoy life, and you will. you will, and you will relight that dimming, nearly extinguished fire within you while you’re at it. you’ll make damn sure of it.

day one.

your heart is pounding. the rapid ba-bump ba-bump ba-bump roars in your ears like thunder as people upon people walk past, shoving against both of your shoulders as you stand in front of a board full of green and yellow and red. the sounds of voices and rolling luggage echo across the high, transparent ceilings of the station which allow for a view of the sky above. early mornings and you do not agree with each other, and today is no exception; poorly-veiled dark circles sit beneath your eyes, illuminated by the soft, warm light streaming in from above. looking down at your phone and back up at the screen again, you find that your train is thankfully on time, the bright green letters helping loosen the tightness gathered in your shoulders as you roll them back once, twice. your teeth skirt your bottom lip while you nod to yourself, then scan the spacious building for the escalator that will take you down to the correct platform.

you hate that you’re nervous. the feeling twists your stomach into knots and flushes your face, cheeks hot as you stand there and wait out the remaining minutes before you can board. it doesn’t even make sense — you should be happy to get out of town, to go places you’ve never been to before, but all you can focus on is the unease creeping up your throat and blooming sour on your tongue. perhaps this is actually excitement that you are feeling. maybe you’re reading it all wrong — jennifer was more than ecstatic when you told her of your impromptu trip, saying “this is what you need! this might be your breakthrough!”

ever since you met the her, she was always a degree more optimistic than you. looking on the bright side of things, no matter what dire circumstances lay splayed out across the dealer’s table. what’s stopping you from being the same way? several things, but at the same time, jennifer is right: you need this. your hands jitter with an odd combination of excitement and fear — maybe it’s simply the thought of solo travel that is so intimidating. yeah, it has to be. it will pass soon enough — hopefully. you roughly shove your set of headphones onto your head, slipping them over your ears. music will have to do for now, if only to prevent thoughts from racing through your head.

once you board, you learn that your quarters are…small, though that was expected. it reminds you of your studio apartment, almost; cramped, but lacking the scattered paint tubes and canvases and miscellaneous mediums that you have not laid a single finger upon in months now. the small, travel-size tubes of paint sitting in your backpack weigh your shoulders down, begging to be taken out and spread across the small, flat canvases that are tucked snugly beside them. you muffle their pleas by turning up the music streaming through your headphones. closing the door behind you, you softly hum to the current song in your ears, shoving your suitcase in the corner of the room.

once the attendant checks your ticket, you decide to take a nap — who cares if it’s early? you barely got enough sleep last night in the first place, too nervous to allow your eyes to shut. collapsing onto your bed, you pull the curtains next to it shut and allow yourself to drift off into a quiet, dreamless sleep.

*:･

you awake around noon with a growling stomach. with a sigh, you rub your tired eyes and sit up, smoothing out your rumpled shirt. after a quick look on your camera to make sure none of your mascara has transferred below your eyes, you make your way to the dining car that’s not too far from your own.

it’s nice, quaint; simply decorated like the rest, with large, square windows divided by thin pieces of wood lining each side. smaller tables line the wall to your right, two seats at each, while larger, four-person tables sit to your left. you opt for a two-seater towards the middle, tunnel vision blocking out the rest of the people present. you stare out at the greenery that blurs outside the window, listening to the low rumble of the train, mindlessly thumbing the laminated menu laying on the table. while you wait for the waitress to get to your table, a light, feminine voice knocks you from your own little world.

“excuse me?” the voice asks. you flinch in response, blinking hard as you look to your left and find two women sitting at the four-seater next to you. they’re both pretty, brown-eyed with full lips curved into twin smiles. they don’t look like sisters, though — more so friends.

“yes?” you politely say, wondering what they could want with you. the shorter-haired one’s smile grows wider once you speak. she has a rounder face than the other girl, her black bangs ending above her eyes that are currently crinkled at the corners.

“are you waiting for anyone?” the other girl asks, the one with a long wolfcut and wide, hypnotizing eyes. definitely not sisters, you think, they look nothing alike.

shaking your head, you softly murmur, “i’m not.”

“would you like to join us, then?” the wide-eyed one asks, a hopeful glint shining in her eyes.

“i...i wouldn’t want to intrude,” you reply. your mouth curls into something apologetic, as if you’re the one burdening them despite them being the ones to ask you. this interaction feels weird, awkward, and a very large part of you wishes you could melt through the floor and disappear forever.

“you wouldn’t!” straight black bob chimes in, hands clasped together on top of the table as she leans towards you. cheery, excitable. “we wouldn’t mind at all, really.”

you nod with a tiny, somewhat nervous grin as you take the seat closest to you, right next to wide-eyed wolfcut. you offer them your name, unsure what else to give them. your age? your profession? your deep-seated trauma? okay, definitely not that last one.

“it’s nice to meet you,” straight black bob says, while the other chimes in with a soft hum of affirmation. “i’m chaewon.”

“and i’m sakura,” wolfcut adds with a dip of her chin.

hands placed snugly in your lap, you pick at your thumb nail. your back is stiff in the chair, and you hope they won’t notice. “it’s nice to meet you guys too. are you traveling together?”

both of them giggle, glancing at each other for a moment before swiveling their eyes back to you. for a moment, you’re confused. why was that so funny? they look to be decent friends, at least from your limited interactions with them thus far.

“we actually just met a few minutes ago,” wolfcut — no, sakura claims. oh, so they’re not friends, then. “we ran into each other— like, quite literally ran into each other.”

“it was…kinda bad,” chaewon laughs before she takes a sip of water. “my ass is still sore.”

you huff a laugh at that, all air and no sound, and the conversation continues with a light-hearted air to it. as the minutes tick by, you learn that chaewon is a graduate student taking a gap semester, while sakura owns her own makeup line, a small business that is beginning to pick up speed thanks to social media. one lives in brooklyn—

“no way,” you gasp at chaewon. “where at?”

sakura, meanwhile, resides in upper manhattan. even more information about them bombards your brain as all of you begin to eat, but you doubt you’ll remember most of it by tomorrow, even later today — it’s alright, though. the three of you have exchanged numbers (to create a group chat) and have basically promised to be travel buddies for the coming days. your cheeks hurt from smiling so hard, grateful to find kind, welcoming people on this train — you’d think that jennifer would like them. the way they interact with each other is somewhat reminiscent of your and jennifer’s friendship. friends…yeah, you can see the three of you becoming good friends.

“can we see some of your art?” chaewon asks, bob shifting like a wave around her head as she shakes it. oh, yeah. you had briefly mentioned your profession, though shame barred you from sharing your reasons that led you to this train in the first place.

you cringe. “oh, well—”

“i’m sure it’s great!” she continues. “c’mon, pleaseee?”

with sparkling doe eyes and hands clasped tightly together, it’s difficult to say no — and you don’t, shaking your head a little as you pull up your instagram account. while you’re proud of the pieces you’ve posted on there, they aren’t your most emotional. those ones are saved in your camera roll, and that is where they will stay, only for your eyes (and a very few select others) to see. they coo and aw as they swipe through, your phone placed on the table between them. heat rushes to your cheeks as you begin to pick at the remnants of your lunch sitting on your plate. deep down, their kind comments cause an unusual sense of guilt to invade your heart. why couldn’t you produce shit like that now? what the hell is wrong with you?

with a polite smile, you thank them and move to excuse yourself before your pathetic sense of self-pity can consume you. they seem a bit surprised by your abrupt exit, but they also take it in stride, offering to text you later for dinner. slipping from your seat, you send them a wave before setting off towards the door from which you initially came.

*:･

you don’t know what spurred you to make a stop at your room and snatch your sketchbook from your backpack before heading to the observation car, but after a whole lot of sitting and not one speck of sketching, you kind of, sort of have started to hate yourself for that decision.

the open page in your lap is abysmally blank. no marks, no little trees or lush fields or flowers or anything that you see speeding by outside the window. your pencil has been poised against the page for the longest time, dark gray dots scattered across the page where you would press the point of the pencil to start making a mark and subsequently give up. another hour with no progress ticks by, but you still can’t make it move. move, why won’t your hand just move?

flipping it shut, you lean back in your seat with a deep sigh. you can’t force these things, you know that much, but that won’t stop you from trying — and failing — to produce something. you’d rather not dwell on that for too long, though. those thoughts are what got you here in the first place. instead, you allow your tense muscles to relax, your eyes to lose focus and blur, blobs of green and blue passing by your vision. soft murmurs from other passengers meld together into a wall of droning noise, soft and soothing.

that is, until the sound of someone settling into a seat a couple away from your own pops your little bubble like a sharp, pointed pin pressing into the skin of a balloon. blinking your vision back into focus, you take a quick glance to your right and—

holy shit, he’s beautiful. a sloping nose and pink, plush lips, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was a model of some sort with a face like that. his dark, slightly outgrown hair frames his side profile perfectly, sweeping back towards the back of his head where it begins to curl down the back of his neck. there’s this sort of dreamy, ethereal quality to his looks, like the universe took it’s sweet time creating him, lovingly placed tiny little stars in his sable, fox-like eyes and kissed his skin with the sun’s gentle rays, a light pink dusted across his cheeks — or, at least, the one cheek that you can see. bulky headphones sit snugly over his ears as he simply watches the landscapes pass by, one long leg crossed over the other. before you register the movement of your hands, your sketchbook is flipped back open to that very same blank page you’d given up on mere moments ago, fingers gripping your pencil once more. fluid like water is how your hand moves across the page, capturing the unique shape of his eyes, his soft yet defined jawline, the slope of his neck…

for the first time in months, you lose yourself in your work, yet you don’t even register this small breakthrough. peeking back up at the beautiful stranger every once in a while, you slowly carve out his likeness on the page in front of you, begin to add his surroundings and even a background, shading with light, circular strokes as you go, building up the deposit of graphite where it is needed most, defining the shape of his pouty lips and the strong cupid’s bow that connects his top lip to his nose, mapping out the flow and shape of locks of hair with dark, daring strokes, graphite pressing hard into the page. you even add some flyways for good measure. in your frenzied bout of drawing, you have hunched over in your chair, an old habit that is rearing its ugly head now that you don’t have a standing easel to work with. straightening your aching spine, you sit back and observe your sketch, wondering if you have missed any defining details—

and when you move to look up and take in his features again, he is staring right back at you.

oh.

oh, fuck.

frozen in your seat, you can’t tear your gaze away from his own, a hint of concern swirling in his irises. his eyebrows raise, eyes slightly wide as he tilts his head. the corners of his pretty lips raise, parting as if about to speak — and he does.

“are you okay?”

his deep voice snaps you out of your stupor, flinching before you quickly flip your notebook shut and sent him a tight smile paired with a nod, eyes darting around to look everywhere but him. your heart just might leap out of your chest at this rate, tear open your sternum and collide with the floor. you almost wish it would.

he’s frowning now, a wrinkle between his eyebrows. “uh, are you sure—”

without another glance at him, you stand, clutch your notebook and pencil tight enough that it presses marks into your skin, and book it straight out of there with swift and featherlight steps. you don’t look back, far too embarrassed to even consider it, not stopping until you reach your room. the door is slammed shut behind you, but the nerves-induced ache in your chest won’t fade. pressing the cool backs of your hands against your fiery cheeks, you resist the urge to slap yourself. what the fuck is wrong with you? you should’ve just answered him and apologized for staring. he probably thinks you’re some creep now, with your weird little notebook and lack of verbal response — and the way you left. god, if a hole opened up and swallowed you whole, that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

“you are so fucking embarrassing,” you hiss, venemous words aimed straight at yourself, your head buried in your hands as you curl up on the bed. day one, day fucking one, and you’ve already made a fool of yourself in front of someone.

maybe you should stay in here for the rest of your trip.

day two.

“...why is it so big?”

chaewon is referring to cloud gate — or, rather, what is more popularly known as the bean — a terribly ugly, silver, oversized, bean-shaped art installation that sits in chicago’s millennium park. an art installation that you, quite frankly, despise mostly due to the artist behind the work. given that anish kapoor is an elitist prick who has shit on the art world with his wealth and hates when people call his piece the bean, you take great, overwhelming satisfaction in calling it that.

her question — paired with her furrowed eyebrows — causes you and sakura to snicker to yourselves. you’re grateful that they texted you this morning, had forced you out of your room because you actually were going to go through with your staying-in-your-room-forever plan (for today, at least). this park is your first stop of many, but you really want to get this part over with so that you don’t have to see this gargantuan, chrome bean ever again. despite its ugliness, you can admit that the slightly warped, mirrored reflection of the city that it provides is kind of interesting to look at, and it makes for some cool pictures.

(still, fuck anish kapoor. you refuse to give that man any credit.)

you end up taking a photo of you flipping it off from afar, sending it to jennifer with a smirk before helping the other two girls with some of their own photos. here, there’s no pressure to create, only to enjoy and experience what surrounds you, no matter how tourist-y it may be.

sakura slings an arm over your shoulder and pulls you closer to her, arm extended out to take a selfie. your hand raises in a peace sign at the camera, smile bright and wide like the sun above. there’s not an inkling of worry in your expression — until you see him.

the guy from yesterday, standing maybe ten feet away. he dons an unbuttoned striped shirt layered over a tank top which is tucked into baggy, dark wash jeans. a thin, black belt wraps around his waist, a small camera hanging from his neck, and his hair looks as perfect as yesterday, shiny and smooth under the unobstructed sunlight. thankfully, he hasn’t noticed you, but that doesn’t stop your smile from fading, your heart from hammering within your chest as your brain cruelly replays the events of yesterday afternoon in slow motion. you can’t face him right now. what if he comes up to you? what if he confronts you for your odd behavior in front of this crowd? these are worst case scenarios, sure, but they are potential outcomes nonetheless. as he begins to turn in your direction, you whip around, slipping from under sakura’s arm as you face the two girls.

“you guys ready to go?” you ask, masking your worry with a tight grin. don’t ask why, don’t ask why, please don’t ask why.

“yeah, sure,” chaewon nods. “i think i’ve had enough of the bean.”

“same,” sakura laughs.

“we could grab lunch, then go to the aquarium and planetarium?” you suggest, one foot beginning to tap against the concrete as you look back and forth between them. are there eyes burning into the back of your head right now? you can’t tell, but the prickling on the back of your neck is not a promising sign. they look at each other, then back to you — a phenomenon that has rapidly become a habit for them — and agree. surging forward, your hands loop around their wrists closest to you, and begin to speed walk away. far away.

“uh, girl? this is the wrong way, we’re going deeper into the park,” sakura notes, heels digging into the concrete to slow you down. she’s right, you know she’s right, but you’re not particularly keen on turning around.

with a sheepish grin, you say, “maybe we could take a walk through the park first?”

as if on cue, chaewon’s stomach emits an audible growl.

“nevermind, then.”

turning around, you find the stranger facing your way, and for some reason, he’s already looking at you. his eyebrows raise in recognition the moment you make eye contact. all of a sudden, you wish that you could shrivel up and die. despite this, you rip your gaze from his and push forward, turning to speak to sakura so that you aren’t forced to glance in his direction. mission: avoid the stranger who now haunts your life — success!

goodbye, the bean and the guy who you embarrassed yourself in front of. hello, chicago-style pizza.

*:･

you’re tired.

you’re tired and slightly more broke and your legs and feet ache to hell after the copious amount of walking you’ve done, but your day still isn’t over. no, despite the setting sun and rising moon, you still have one more activity on your itinerary — clubbing, by request of your newfound friends, though even they claim that they don’t often partake in the activity. similar to them, you’re more inclined to small get-togethers with wine, food from that thai place down the street from your apartment, and a good movie, but hey, this trip is all about experiencing new things. hell, maybe you’ll even enjoy it, who knows? at least, you’re going to try to, but the pain radiating in the soles of your feet and calves has worsened due to your high heels. the dress wrapped around your body is tight and flattering in all the right places, yet the hem rides up every few minutes as you walk.

“the pessimism isn’t cute. quit it,” you hear jennifer’s voice echo inside your head, yet another phrase she’s uttered to you in the past. fine — on the bright side, you haven’t seen that good-looking stranger since the park. bam, positivity, go you.

sakura’s arm loops around yours as you reach the club that you collectively decided on earlier. her excited squeals at the prospect of alcohol (or, rather, more alcohol, since she pregramed a bit prior to leaving the station) and dancing are enough to bring on a weak headache that spreads across your temples. ibuprofen. you desperately need ibuprofen, but vodka will do just fine too — it’s the first thing you order at the bar, a straight shot with no chaser because at this point, you don’t care. let go, enjoy life, you internalize as you toss the sharp liquor down your throat, fatigue melting away as the alcohol enters your veins.

cheers, jennifer. you still need to text her back.

one more downed shot later, and chaewon is dragging you to the dance floor. the bass pounds in your ears and vibrates the floor as the three of you sway to the upbeat songs. droplets of sweat begin to bead along your hairline, bodies packed so close together that it’s virtually impossible not to be jostled by a stray elbow or shoulder as you dance. if you were completely sober, it would be uncomfortable, but your hazy senses allow for you to overlook the sardine can that is called a club. it’s easy to lose yourself in the warm, heady air, in the way your hips bump between chaewon’s and sakura’s. inhibitions melt away — you’re free; no expectations weighing you down, nowhere to be, no one to be. only music, flashing lights, and the new, fruity drink in your hand, courtesy of sakura.

“gonna take a breather!” you yell into chaewon’s ear, the alcohol finally catching up to you. she nods, yells words you can’t make out into sakura’s ear, and both of them begin to follow you out of the crowd. you sip at your drink as you push your way through, ducking under swinging arms and avoiding splashing drinks. the crowd thins as you grow closer to the edge of the dance floor until only scattered groups of friends remain.

“you didn’t have to come with me, y’know,” you say as soon as you reach a slightly quieter part of the club, taking a seat in an empty booth. “i can handle myself.”

“it’s better to stick together. less dangerous,” sakura refutes. some of the glitter that sits above her eyes had drafted down to her cheeks, glinting as a beam of bright light travels over the lower half of her face. “you never know what could happen in a club.”

chewing at the neon pink straw in your drink, you nod, “that’s true.”

as chaewon and sakura fall into conversation, their words not quite reaching your ears, you silently scan the club. the darkness is cut by wild lasers and spotlights that whirl around and catch on the faces of countless strangers, their pearly, grinning teeth glinting and disappearing back into obscurity in a flash. you continue to nibble at your straw, vision hazy around the edges and an airy sensation in your limbs, as if you could float up to the ceiling. you look up at the multicolored lights, flashes of red and green and blue bombarding your vision, then back down towards the crowd.

and yet again, you find him in your sights.

suddenly, your vision has a crystal clear clarity to it. button-down shirt wide open to reveal his toned torso, he smoothly moves to the beat with an intoxicated smirk painted on his lips, a small glass of amber liquor in his left hand. dark, outgrown hair, plush lips, those dark, dreamy eyes — that’s him. shit, that’s definitely him.

“you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you murmur, head collapsing into your arms on top of the cool wooden table. sakura jumps in her seat next to you, before scrambling to place a hand on your shoulder.

“are you okay?” she squeals near your ear, tacking on a worried call of your name when you don’t respond right away. honestly? you’re kind of not okay. you’re tired of encountering him at every turn and being reminded of your humiliating escape from him yesterday. you’re tired of him spotting you and sending you odd looks as if you’re the weirdest person he’s ever crossed paths with. you’re tired, you’re tired, you’re just so tired.

you decided to go on this trip to get away from the mundanity of your day-to-day routine, to get over your spell of artist’s block and see new things, but maybe you bit off more than you can chew if you were going to allow one random person to ruin that goal for you. a random stranger shouldn’t have this much power over you.

raising your head, you send them a half-hearted nod. “i’m fine. sorry.”

chaewon frowns, “are you about to throw up? ‘cause you look like you are.”

“you look like you’ve just seen a ghost,” sakura chimes in.

sighing, you shake your head. “i think— i think i need to use the bathroom.”

as you move to get up, they do as well — though you decide not to protest this time. there’s no point, really. your legs wobble a bit as you walk, face dropping once you notice that he is near the men’s restroom now, waiting outside right across from where you aim to go. head down, you scurry past him, ignoring how his eyes widen and his knuckles pale as he grips his drink tighter. chaewon and sakura are hot on your heels as you slip into the quiet bathroom. with the music from outside now muffled, you realize your ears are ringing. reaching a sink, you turn on the faucet and splash some water onto your face. hunched over the sink, your fingers grip the edge of the counter. deep breaths, now. deep breaths. this is likely the quickest you have ever sobered up, and the sensation is rendering you dizzy.

behind you, your friends exchange concerned looks through the mirror. sakura jumps into action first, coming up behind you and placing her hands onto your shoulders. with a gentle squeeze, she murmurs, “let’s get you back to the station.”

day three.

today, the observation car is devoid of life — and so is your body after yesterday. can you overdose by taking too much ibuprofen? you’re pretty sure that you can.

last night is but a blur in your memory with few spots of clarity, but you do vividly remember panicking in the dimly lit bathroom as the girls fretted over whether you were going to vomit all over the floor or not. you hadn’t slept much once you returned to your room after exchanging drunken hugs with your friends, assuring them that you were, indeed, not going to throw up. after a few hours of restless sleep, you’d completely given up on proper rest — you have never slept all that well with alcohol in your system, so you’re not sure why you thought this time would be any different.

you take a seat far away from the one you took last time. clad in your pajama bottoms and an oversized t-shirt, you’re grateful that no one else is here to see you at your worst: slightly hungover with dark circles the size of dinner plates. your legs fold up onto the chair so that your knees sit near your chest, your arms looping around your shins, fingers laced together. a deep sigh. a long blink. though the rest of the sky remains an inky black, the horizon morphs into a deep purple, the color of eggplant, almost. perhaps a smidge lighter.

a door opens, its hinges faintly squeaking, before subsequently clicking shut. figuring it must be someone older, you do not bother with checking who entered; most people your age aren’t up this early, especially not willingly. instead, you keep your eyes trained on the ever-changing sky, chin resting upon your knees.

footsteps near you, and you assume that they will pass, but then they don’t. rather, they stand right in front of you.

“may i sit here?”

you have heard this voice before, just two days ago. unsurprisingly, he stands a mere few feet away, clad in a black tank top and gray sweatpants, a long finger pointed towards a seat. similar to you, small dark circles sit beneath his eyes, but he somehow makes them work. once you nod, one corner of his lips twitches upward before he sits down, a singular seat separating your bodies. his gaze burns the side of your face; your arms wrap around your legs tighter, your unwavering stare pointed out the window. silence envelopes the train car, tense and suffocating. your lungs tighten, prickly thorns sprouting within the thin membranes. your bottom lip may begin to bleed if you keep chewing at it so carelessly.

he breaks it first, shatters it like glass colliding with the floor, with five words:

“i’m really hungover right now.”

your brows furrow. why is he trying to strike up a conversation with you? why do you want to answer him?

he continues before you can formulate a response, “i saw you at that club last night — you looked a little sick. are you okay?”

“peachy,” you curtly mumble, lips pursing. of course he remembers you; you did pass by him, after all, basically sprinted into the bathroom with the grace of a bull in a china shop. he hasn’t mentioned the park, but you know damn well he remembers that too.

you can sense the frown from his tone, confusion lacing the edges like delicate lace. his question is careful, slowly intonated as if he’s scared of pissing you off. “uh, did i do something wrong?”

you shake your head, not a single glance spared in his direction thus far. he hasn’t. your attitude is a direct result of your own actions, your own rampant anxieties. a pang of guilt punches you in the gut — he does not deserve your bitchiness when he, quite frankly, has done nothing but exist in relative proximity to you.

“you haven’t,” you reply, voice meek. your eyes trace over the short fibers of the plain carpet below your seat. “i’m just— i’m sorry.”

the low rumble of the train fills the air again, no further words spoken between the two of you. there’s no clear way to explain yourself further, but your apology is sincere; with a brief peek, you find him staring out the window.

“can i ask why you keep running away whenever you see me?” the query lacks an accusatory edge. rather, curiosity and interest cushion his voice. maybe…maybe he doesn’t find you that strange, after all.

and finally, after two days of avoiding his gaze, you swivel your head to face him. you find a tilted head, a single humorous, raised eyebrow. despite yourself, you begin to smile. “honestly?”

“i’d prefer honesty, yes,” he grins.

“i—” you hesitate for a moment, then continue, “i was embarrassed.” a grimace paints your face, dragging your brows down and twisting your lips. “after, y’know…”

“running away the first time?” he supplies.

your mouth flattens into a thin line, a hand moving up to scratch your cheek. “yeah, that.”

laughter reaches your ears, partially nasally. rolling your eyes, your mouth splits into a grin.

“i get it. i feel like i definitely startled you, so no hard feelings.” he pauses, starry eyes widening in what you believe is realization, “i never got your name.”

easily, you supply it, cheeks flushing with heat when he offhandedly comments that it’s pretty. if he notices your sudden flustered state, he doesn’t comment on it, and despite the warmth now slithering down your neck, you feel yourself relax back into your seat, legs leaving their curled up position to cross at the ankle in front of you. then, he offers his own. yeonjun — at long last, you have put a name to his handsome face.

out of nowhere, he asks, “have you had breakfast?”

shaking your head, you gesture to your pajama bottoms. “not yet, i was going to grab some after i changed.”

“i don’t know, i think the plaid pants are pretty fashionable,” he chuckles. you join him. “c’mon, i saw an old guy wearing boxers and a shirt in there yesterday. i’m pretty sure it’ll be fine.”

you giggle, “that’s kinda gross, but alright. let’s go.”

peering out the window again, you find that the sun has just peeked above the horizon, a wash of orange fading into blue, melting together like watercolor. smiling to yourself, you stand and begin to follow yeonjun towards the dining car.

*:･

you and yeonjun had gone your separate ways hours ago, but not without exchanging contact information. since then, he hasn’t stopped texting you, his talent at keeping any conversation going shining in direct contrast to your, well, lack of said talent. however, you do find yourself replying to him with ease — he makes it so easy to do so, mostly due to the fairly unorthodox topics he likes to bring up. currently, you’re talking about the animals that scare you the most. why? because that’s the nature of yeonjun’s conversation skills, you suppose.

another voice message pops up in your chat, about ten seconds long — one of his more obvious quirks. most of his messages are sent in this form, not that you mind. his voice is as pretty as the rest of him. heart-fluttering. okay, stop. you just met this guy.

(jennifer always does say that you fall too easily. maybe she’s right.)

pressing play, his voice enters your left ear via your single earbud. “no because hear me out: dolphins have fooled you into thinking they’re nice. manipulated you. they literally torture their prey— and they use puffer fishes to get high! i can’t make this shit up. my fear is justified, i swear.”

under your breath, you chuckle, an elbow leaned against the dining table. after a long nap, you had texted the girls to see if they’d like to get dinner with you. of course, they said yes, but you decided to get here a bit early to grab an open table. the car is already packed as it is.

“what’re you laughing at?” unexpectedly, sakura’s head appears over your shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of your phone. out of habit, you lock it, your reflections staring back at you through the black screen. as she sits next to you, chaewon, takes the seat across from you, elbows placed on the table and her hands supporting her chin. she sends you a knowing smile.

“is that your boyfriend?” she prods. the question causes your mouth to fall open for a moment before you snap it shut.

“no!” you exclaim. “it’s just a friend.”

“sounds like a boyfriend,” sakura surmises, exchanging a conspiratory nod with the other girl. you release a groan, hands shielding your fiery hot face before you drag them up over your hair.

“he’s not my boyfriend,” you shoot back. “we just met today.” two days ago, actually. if you can count that.

their mouths open in tandem, shock coloring their features. is this a big deal, or something? you aren’t even dating the guy.

“you met a guy and didn’t tell us?” sakura grasps your arm with both hands, shaking the limb with a strength that shouldn’t be possible to come from her thin body. “you should’ve told us! we can be your wingwomen!”

“wingwomen?” you echo dumbly as you stare at her. wingwomen, as in, like, jennifer-style wingwomen? as in trying too hard to set you up with someone and ultimately embarrassing you in the end wingwomen? your love for jennifer knows no bounds, but she’s ruined the term for you long ago with her terrible luck. a shudder runs down your spine, and you grin nervously. “i don’t think that’s necessary.”

“of course it is! i’ve always wanted to do that for one of my friends, but they’re all taken already,” chaewon pouts, irresistible puppy dog eyes appearing. “c’mon, please?

“i doubt he’d want to date me, though? we’ve literally only talked once, so really, it’s okay.”

“once is enough,” sakura declares, suddenly tilting her body closer to yours. “tell us, is he cute? what’s his name?”

they’re obviously not going to let this go, and you have no power to really stop them.

sighing, you officially give up, “yeonjun, and yes, i do.” unfortunately.

chaewon claps her hands together, an audible smack! echoing from her palms. her smile is blinding, a supernova of pearly white teeth and pink, upturned lips. “perfect! we can work with that.”

“i already have an idea: ask him to hang out tomorrow,” sakura says, and you send her an incredulous look, glancing at chaewon for a moment to find that she’s excitedly nodding along to the idea like an excitable puppy. her round eyes sure make her resemble one.

you shake your head. “i can’t do that, it’s too forward.”

rolling her eyes, sakura tosses her hands up in the air. “too forward my ass! how do you expect to bag him?”

“i don’t!”

chaewon chimes in, an open hand reaching towards you, “alright, give us your phone. we’ll text him for you.”

“absolutely not!”

ding!

it’s comical, how all three of you pivot your wide-eyed gazes to the phone clenched in your fingers. the flash of yeonjun’s name across the screen is enough to send your table into chaos.

“open it!”

“what did he say—”

“calm down, oh my god!” you shriek, sending an apologetic look to the couple next to you when they look over. fingers fly over your keyboard until you’ve reached his contact. words, this time, no voice message. butterflies burst into your chest.

yeonjun: do you have anything planned for tmrw?

after scanning over the message herself, sakura pokes at your shoulder. “tell him you don’t.”

with a deep, heavy sigh, you do as she says.

[6:37 p.m.]: not yet, why?

“that’s too dry,” chaewon comments.

“shut up, i’m trying,” you hiss. it takes him a few minutes to respond, minutes in which you internally panic. was your text really too dry? in the meantime, you place your dinner order with a kind waiter that stops by, a hearty dish that you can drown your sorrows in the not-so-off chance that this goes terribly, terribly wrong. another ping sounds from your phone’s speakers, and time stops once you read what he sent. clocks stop ticking, you stop breathing, everything around you freezes.

yeonjun: do you wanna grab coffee in the morning then? :)

sakura sends you a sharp look. “i doubt he’d want to date me — are you seeing this right now? or do you need me to spell it out for you? this is a date, babe.”

“it’s not,” you counter weakly. you only (officially) met him today, so, “it’s really not.”

day four.

contrary to what sakura claimed, this is very much not a date — but you’re happy about it.

he keeps a respectful distance between your bodies as you walk, you pay for your own coffee, and you pull your own chair out when you go to sit down. it’s simple, it’s friendly, it’s a bit awkward, but there’s some things you have to sacrifice when making new friends. the croissant you’ve decided on is on the drier side, a little too flaky. you nibble on it anyway in a poor attempt to ignore the silence that has fallen between you once again. this is why you try to meet people through other friends; at least in those situations, you have a buffer, someone who knows you and the other person well enough that they can find connections between you without having to dig. you hate digging — you’re the worst at it, hence the stifling quiet that permeates the air now.

the café is quaint, if a bit moody thanks to the lighting. outside the window, the denver street teems with people, and you decide to survey the passing strangers rather than look at the man sitting across from you. wisps of fluffy white clouds float high above, sometimes passing over the sun. you wish you had your supplies with you — this would make for a wonderful painting.

click!

turning your head, you find yeonjun holding a camera, the lens pointed at…you? you hadn’t noticed it prior, so you are unsure where he got it from. it looks like the same one he had at the park. a bashful smile appears as soon as he places it on the table. “sorry, the lighting was perfect. can’t ever pass up a nice shot.” you study the camera for a moment, and he takes your lack of response as a sign to continue, “once i edit it, i can definitely send you a copy. do you wanna see it?”

a photographer. yeonjun is a photographer. you’re not sure why it’s taken you this long to realize. maybe because you’ve been avoiding him up until now? you think. shaking the thought away, you smile. “i’d love to see it.”

he presses a few buttons, a focused twist to his plush lips, before he’s sliding it over to your side of the table. he’s right: it was a nice shot, and while you don’t often enjoy how you look in photographs, he’s found an angle that highlights your best features as you gaze outside, a slight part to your lips and your eyes wide open, shining. the sheer amount of contrast between the dark café and your warm-lit face scratches an itch in your brain. you can see it now — the golden pigment wetting your brush before being placed on the canvas, being blended into an umber, almost black, but not quite. a splash of umber here, a hint of red there…

“is this your job?” you decide to ask.

the sheepish expression returns in full force, but there’s a hint of pride in his eyes. he’s proud of his work. “yeah. i’m not, like, famous or anything, but i enjoy it. my mom said that when i was a baby, they put a stethoscope, a gavel, a camera, a microphone, and a test tube in front of me, and i chose the camera, so it was basically meant to be,” he chuckles, but, realizing that you’re staring at him, he pauses for moment. crimson paints the tips of his ears; it’s a color that you’re pretty sure sits in your travel set. “sorry, was that too much?”

“not at all,” you reply softly. “that’s a lovely story, yeonjun.”

“thanks.” shyly, he bites down on his bottom lip, sucking it between his teeth before releasing it. a beat of quiet passes, then he’s asking, “how about you? what do you do for work?”

for some reason, the question looms over your head like a storm cloud. it’s unavoidable and dark and heavy. a bitter taste fills your mouth, different from the aftertaste of your coffee, but you try not to let your sudden drop in mood show.

“i’m an artist, though i don’t think many people would consider me one nowadays,” you snicker, but the self-deprecating edge to your words is not lost on yeonjun.

wrinkles form in the space between his brows. “what do you mean?”

“i…” you trail off. you should tell him. you should rip the bandaid off and quit avoiding facing it for what it is. “i haven’t finished a piece in months. i feel stuck, almost? like nothing is resonating with me, if that makes sense. it’s the whole reason i went on this trip. it’s humiliating, not being able to draw a single thing without hating it— sorry, that’s definitely too much.”

“no, no, you’re fine,” and he’s sincere in his reassurances. he doesn’t look at you like you’re some sort of failure for how you feel. he doesn’t spew out a hollow apology to absolve him of the weight you’ve transferred to his shoulders, nor does he seem to mind that he’s helping you burden it. his hand reaches over the table, hesitant for a moment, before his fingers curl over yours, his warm skin against yours. you stare at his hand, but you don’t move away from his touch, allowing him to give your hand a delicate squeeze. looking back up, you sit frozen under his gaze. it warms your insides, melts the icy shards solidifying in your lungs that make it hard to breathe. “none of that makes you less of an artist. it’s something every artist goes through — hell, i’ve gone through it, and it’s okay to feel that way. it’s real and it sucks to feel like you can’t accomplish anything, but there’s nothing wrong with it. eventually, it will pass on its own, but until then, it’s not a sin to lean on others for support.”

tears almost, almost prick your eyes. however, you push them down; there’s no way you’re going to cry in public, in front of him. absolutely not. he squeezes your hand one more time, his thumb brushing over yours, before pulling away. “and if no one else will listen, i will.”

“thank you,” you croak out, blinking rapidly, taking a long sip of coffee in order to buy yourself a few precious seconds to cloak your emotions. a calm veil falls over your face soon enough, and while you hate to be the one to change the subject, you feel like you should. “do you want to go on a walk? it’s too nice out to stay in here all day.”

he doesn’t question the sudden change, humming in confirmation as he scoots his chair back. “it really is nice out. do you have any other plans?”

“not really,” you say, pushing the door open. the warm breeze caresses your face. “i’m trying to be spontaneous—”

“y/n!”

sakura and chaewon appear to your left, each carrying a couple bags that look to be stuffed with clothes. you vaguely remember them mentioning going thrifting, but you didn’t know that they’d be in the same part of the city as you. chaewon comes in for a hug, whispering into your ear, “he’s cute.”

glancing up at yeonjun, sakura feigns ignorance, “who’s this?”

thus, your friends meet the one man you’d rather keep them away from, if only to prevent their wingwomen shenanigans. you have zero clue what they have planned, but you’re sure none of it can be good.

“we were just on our way to the botanical gardens,” chaewon sings. “if you’d like to join usss.”

wordlessly, you and yeonjun communicate, only raised eyebrows and tilted chins. somehow, you understand exactly what he’s trying to convey. do you want to? do you? i don’t mind if you don’t. alright, let’s do it.

when you do arrive at the gardens, yeonjun’s fingers find your wrist, holding you back for a moment. his free hand gestures to the camera hanging around his neck. “mind being my model for the day?”

you blink. you, his model? “oh, um. i think chae and kkura are a bit more qualified—”

“no way,” he laughs. “i’m the professional here, and i want you. no one else will do.”

i want you — god, those three, simple words send a visceral shiver down your spine. a want, a need, an overwhelming desire for…you’re not even sure, but something all-consuming blooms behind your sternum like a moonflower in the night. with a coy dip of your head, you smile to yourself, allowing the feeling to surge through your veins, consume every fiber of your being.

“alright, mr. professional. lead the way.”

*:･

it’s early in the evening when you return to the station in a giddy haze, arm looped around yeonjun’s. the photo session had been a success; by the end, you were drunk on the compliments he aimed your way, on the way he treated you like glass as he directed you into a specific pose, the fleeting sensation of his fingertips pressing into your skin burned into your memory.

closing the door to your room, you press your back into it, squeal into your palms like you did when you were sixteen and harboring a silly little crush. because that’s all it is right now, really: a foolish crush on a man that you probably won’t see again after this trip. you can fantasize all you want, but in the end, that’s what it is. those invading negative thoughts get drowned out by the movie playing behind your eyelids — a replay of the day. you swear you can feel every touch of his skin against yours, every ray of sunshine that kissed your skin and gifted you its warmth. scurrying over to your bag, you locate your supplies.

and you begin to paint.

a flurry of lilacs, a blurry figure among them all, defined only by a flowing white button up and brown, wide leg trousers, black streaks of hair and nothing more. yellow daffodils and vibrant emerald sweetgrass take shape, a cerulean sky, fluffy clouds. it’s messy and you kind of hate it, but it’s something. something is on the canvas, it’s dynamic, it has character.

“okay,” you mumble, staring at the brushstrokes, going over them again and again. “okay.”

day five.

“can i draw you?”

a spur of the moment question, borne from the golden sunset gracing his cheeks, highlighting strands of his hair. the day has passed quietly today, mostly spent in your room sketching to your heart’s content. though mostly inconsequential doodles paired with terribly cheesy words of prose that even your most romantic friends would scrunch their noses at, these exercises in creating without a specific goal in mind seem to be helping. a part of that gray fog over your world has been wafted away by an invisible hand, and everything is a bit more vibrant, closer to its true hue; while nothing about your creations are particularly special or groundbreaking, going on this trip is now beginning to prove its worth.

yeonjun’s head tilts, and you shrug. “what? i need practice.”

“okay, as long as you promise to show me afterward,” he challenges, and you immediately shake your head.

“i’m only going to show it to you if it turns out well,” you decide. you think back to the painting sitting in your room, still a bit wet, the paint overworked to hell. that one is staying a secret. it’s not good enough to be known by anyone else — and certainly not by him.

“then no deal.” when you give him a pleading look, he raises his hands. “i show you my pictures, you show me what’s going on in that sketchbook, it’s only fair.”

“fine,” you hiss, fishing your sketchbook from your bag. “get comfortable, and don’t even think about moving.”

“harsh.”

with a suppressed grin, you take in the planes of his face. he’s shifted to face you, intent eyes trained on you, which makes your job harder. gulping, you raise an arm, mapping out his proportions with a thumb. the process of pressing intentional marks into the page is a slow one, exacerbated by his unwavering stare. you have to look out at the mountains every once in a while to allow oxygen back into your lungs, and even then, the action proves difficult. graphite scratching paper is backed by the low murmur of other passengers in the observation car as you work, capturing the fading light that casts shadows across his face. however, your creative juices quickly run out, likely sapped by your painting escapade that extended far into the night. the shape of his eyes isn’t quite right, and no matter how much you erase and try again, there’s always a slight detail off about it. too narrow, too round, too—

the tip of the pencil snaps, the point rolling across the page and falling onto the floor. you curse under your breath.

“is it done?” yeonjun asks, leaning forward. his hands gently take your sketchbook from your lap before you can protest, and you watch as his expression shifts from neutral to slack-jawed.

“that’s…you’re…wow,” he starts, then never finishes. he still hasn’t torn his wide eyes away from the page, flitting around as he drinks in every miniscule detail, while you pinpoint every single thing wrong with the drawing.

“it’s bad,” you deadpan. “give it back, i need to fix it.”

he frowns. you seem to make him do that a lot. “there’s nothing to fix.”

“there’s everything to fix.”

“it’s literally a carbon copy of me,” he counters. “you’re crazy.”

“says the one who can’t see the shape of his eyes right now. the lash line isn’t straight enough at the top, the nose isn’t quite right, the hair lacks form. it’s terrible.”

for the first time since you met him, yeonjun is annoyed. eyes narrowed and dark, he locks his gaze into yours, throws away the key. you can’t move while he tosses the worn sketchbook back into your lap, a hand running through his hair, locks raising with his fingers and flopping back down into his face.

“i know what it’s like to be your own worst critic,” he says, voice soft like a lullaby, standing in direct contrast to his firm expression. “but it’s one thing to be critical of your art, and another to resent it. you’re a wonderful artist, y/n. talented isn’t enough to describe you, but negativity is going to get you nowhere. it holds you back.”

he’s right — you loathe that he is, and you more so hate how he sounds just like jennifer. your nails skirts the fraying edge of the leather cover in your laps, picking at it like you would with skin, peeling cracked flakes off to reveal a soft underbelly of lighter-colored suede. wine red versus warm tan. you feel like you’re being admonished, a child who’s misbehaved. you feel small, but at the same time, you need to hear it. you’ve been coddled enough.

“i used to hate my stuff too, y’know. never thought it was ever that special, but that’s what made me underestimate myself. that’s what made me settle for less, that’s what made me lock my camera away in my closet for the longest time until i felt i was ‘ready’ to use it — but who was i to say i was ready? how do you know when you are? honestly, you don’t. you won’t ever know. all you can do is create and create and hope that you eventually make something that you’re proud of. until then, you keep trying, you figure out what’s working, what isn’t, and go from there. in the end, everything you create is a reflection of you, and that’s the beautiful thing about art. it bares your soul, it strips you down to the rawest parts of yourself that you may despise right now — but it’s still you. and don’t you think you deserve to give yourself some grace?”

his words strike a place deep within you, an ache beginning in the center of your chest and snaking out like the roots of a tree into your stomach and throat. you do deserve some grace, don’t you? you don’t spew venomous words towards your friends or strangers every day, yet you do it to yourself without a second thought. why? you bring yourself and your skills down any chance that you get. why? your art is merely an extension of yourself — is this how you forever want to feel whenever you are drawing? whenever you’re sculpting a piece? no, not at all. your head raises.

“have you ever thought about becoming a public speaker?”

he lets out an incredulous scoff, but there’s still an inkling of teasing in his tone, “is that all you got from my mini speech? i thought it was amazing. life-changing, even.”

“no,” you deny with a tight-chested laugh. “but there’s not much more to add. you’ve said it all for me.”

the passing mountains are purple now, the greenery a muted magenta. in this moment, you decide the yeonjun is an enigma; untouchable, unreachable — standing too close to his bright, technicolor world would burn your muted one to the ground. if you are icarus, then he is the sun sending you plummeting down into oblivion.

but you want to touch him, you want to burn.

you want to feel alive again.

“let me draw you again,” and maybe it won’t be your best. maybe the slope of his chin will be crooked, maybe the intrinsic sparkle in his eyes won’t be quite right, but there’s a conviction present in your tone that causes him to smile.

day six.

“are you really trying to have a dick measuring contest with the seals right now?”

san francisco’s iconic pier 39 is abustle with tourists, but you and yeonjun are currently at the very back of the pier, where seals soak in the sun on little wooden docks constructed just for them. at the moment, yeonjun is trying to out-seal the seals with loud barks and hoots, mimicking their distinctive sounds. yeonjun is still making noises, people are starting to stare, and you are beginning to want to climb over the wooden fence and jump straight into the ocean.

“yeonjun, please stop,” you plead, hands gripping the sleeve of his t-shirt, yet he doesn’t stop, honking back at the seals once they respond. you tug a bit harder. “c’mon, people are staring. the seals don’t care how loud you are, you’re not proving anything.”

“i’m proving a lot of things right now, actually,” he quips before he’s going back to making noises that are unbecoming of a human being. this feels like a cruel form of exposure therapy.

you try pulling at his sleeve again. “c’mon, yeonjun.” and again. “yeonjun!”

“okay, okay, i’ll stop,” he cackles, turning to face you. he’s close — too close to be considered platonic. his hands could come up and hold your waist right now, pull you closer into his chest. it causes you to take a step back, and it’s as if he can sense the heat radiating from your cheeks, leaning down towards you with a smirk. “you embarrassed?”

“of course i’m embarrassed,” you hiss. “how are you not?”

shaking his head, his grin grows impossibly wider. “if i buy you lunch, will you forgive me?”

pretending to think, you look off to the side, then back to him. of course you will. “maybe.”

“i’ll take that as a yes,” he laughs as he falls into step next to you. the air is much cooler here than at your other stops, a gray blanket of fog rolling in on the horizon that cuts into the clear blue sky. he sends you a hopeful look as he asks, “y’feeling clam chowder?”

with a tiny shrug, you confess that you’ve never had it before. with a dramatic hand placed against his chest, he gasps, “you live in the northeast, and you’ve never tried it? that has to be some sort of crime.”

chowder hut is his restaurant of choice, a circular, well, hut that sits by its lonesome across from the infamous pier. it’s a place he used to go when he lived in san jose and took day trips here with his cousins, he claims. the restaurant holds a lot of fond memories for him, this whole city does. you wonder what those memories entail.

“i got you a small one in case you don’t like it,” yeonjun says as soon as he returns with your food. a tray is placed in front of you: a round sourdough loaf carved into to create a bowl, filled with cream-colored, steaming-hot chowder thick with chunks of potatoes, pieces of bacon, and, of course, clams. digging a spoon in, you take your first bite — clean, briny, slightly sweet, bursting across your taste buds like tiny little firecrackers. your eyes widen at the taste, buzzing in delight against the spoon poised to your lips. he grins. “it’s good, right?”

you hum in agreement, swallowing another spoonful. you’re crazy for never having tried this before. twenty-four years of living, and you had no idea what you were missing out on. you’ve missed out on a long of things, it seems, but you’re beginning to catch up on them with the help of yeonjun — as well as sakura and chaewon, of course. you could never forget about them.

“you’re forever going to be connected to clam chowder in my mind now, i hope you know that,” you say, tearing into the walls of the bread bowl. the remnants of the salty chowder have soaked into the bowl, mixing perfectly with the tanginess of the bread. yeah, you wouldn’t forget this in a million years; it’s too delicious to forget.

“you do that too?” he asks. you send him a questioning glance. “like, connect people to food.”

“yeah, i guess i do,” you ponder. “my mom reminds me of this one dish she always made me as a kid. my best friend reminds me of wine, since that’s what we drank when we first met. it’s also her favorite. and now you…remind me of clam chowder.”

he chuckles, “great, i’ll always be the clam chowder guy to you.”

you giggle back. “it’s not a bad title to hold. you could be, i don’t know, the terrible clam chowder guy.”

“fair enough. i’ll take it,” he declares before he shoves the last piece of his bread bowl into his mouth. his cheeks puff out, similar to a chipmunk, and you resist the urge to chuckle at the image in your head. “now that i think about it, i don’t do it with just people — a lot of my fondest memories are connected to food, too. something human about it, y’know? food is its own form of love. or, at least, i think it is.”

“no, i completely agree. there’s something special about sharing food with others — it’s kinda intimate, i guess? especially if you’re cooking for someone, those are some of the most vivid memories for me.”

nodding along with you, he’s leaning forward, elbows resting against the table. the corners of his lips quirk up. “you get it. the intimacy of it, i mean. my mom has always said that food is the best way to a person’s heart — food brings people together. it’s amazing.”

“yeah,” you beam. “it really is.”

for a moment, conversation ceases, the two of you smiling at each other, leaning forward over the table. your mouth opens to speak, but a loud caw draws your attention away from his hypnotizing eyes. you watch a seagull swoop in to harass a man that sits two tables over, his glasses skewed on his face as he tries to keep the bird from stealing his food. arms wave everywhere while the seagull screeches at him, flapping its wings on top of the man’s head. after a brief second of shock, the sight has you nearly doubling over with laughter, unflattering shrieks sounding from your throat. it takes a minute for your giggles to subside. while you wipe a tear from your lash line, you look back at him — and freeze.

he’s staring at you like you hung the stars in the sky, chin supported by his palm. his mouth curves into something serene and fond, hooded eyes scanning your face as you stare back. you’re no longer smiling, mouth parted as you wait for him to say something, anything. he doesn’t, so you move to break the intense air brewing between you.

“is…is something wrong?” with a flinch, his eyes blink rapidly for a second, coming back into focus. he sits up straighter, leaning into the back of his chair.

“i just— nevermind. sorry, spaced out there for a second,” his chin dips towards his chest before rising again, the tips of his ears flushing cherry. he looks nervous, almost. “um, if you’re up for it later, we could grab dinner at this korean restaurant i used to go to? it reminds me a lot of my parents. i think you’d like it.”

while you’d rather ask where his head is at right now, what he was going to say before he stopped himself so abruptly, you say, “i’d love that.”

*:･

he was right, you do like it.

the restaurant is cozy, a little hole-in-the-wall in the heart of the city where less tourists roam. the food is delicious, flavorful meats and fluffy rice and various veggie side dishes that you can’t stop eating. as he snaps some photos of the place, he tells you the decor reminds him of restaurants in seoul, of the mom-and-pop shops he’d frequent there. that at some point or other, some of the owners would start recognizing him when he came in and gave him extra food free of charge.

“so you lived there for a while? in korea?” you ask as you watch him some meat for the two of you to share. the action is second nature to him, each piece staying on the grill for the same amount of time, flipped only once. you bring a piece to your mouth — it’s perfectly cooked.

“i was born there, in a town near seoul,” he says through a mouthful of rice. “moved around a bit, but i lived in seoul for most of it ‘til i was eighteen. then i moved to new york for college, but dropped out after two semesters to pursue photography. it’s been six years since i moved to the states.”

“you said you lived in san jose for a while earlier.” you tilt your head at him. “when was that?”

“ah,” he starts. “i studied abroad when i was in elementary school and stayed with some family there— do you want some more meat? i can order more.”

your meat supply has dwindled down to two pieces. there’s still room in your stomach, so you nod. “sure.”

he calls over the sole server on shift, speaking to him rapidly in his native tongue. the server glances over at you for a brief second before focusing back on yeonjun. out of their entire conversation, you recognize one word: friend. it’s a term that jennifer taught you a while ago, one that has stuck with you because she now likes to jokingly call you that every now and then. an inside joke between the two of you.

when the server leaves, yeonjun is left a flustered mess. your eyebrows raise. “why’s your face so red? what’d he say?”

“nothing! it’s just from the kimchi! it’s really spicy here,” he quickly claims before he’s gulping down half a glass of water. you, quite frankly, don’t buy it for a second, but choose not to pry.

day seven.

of course, at least one thing has to go wrong on a trip like this. mechanical problems with the train has rendered everyone stuck in the golden city until tomorrow morning, at which another train will take over the rest of the trip. the station is across the bay, so amtrak has given every passenger a voucher to pay for a night’s stay at various hotels across the city — customer’s choice, no less. to be safe, you choose the one closest to the bar chaewon and sakura want to check out tonight. once you told yeonjun where you decided to stay, he used his voucher there as well. he wants to stay near you, he says, to make it easy to find each other.

today, the girls join you and yeonjun at pier 39. they partake in bread bowls, they watch yeonjun embarrass himself at the seal docks, they send you knowing looks when he pays for your food. when yeonjun finds a street performer with a dance mat and wastes no time in starting a battle against the guy, they tell you that he’s trying to impress you.

“he’s not,” you whisper to them. “that’s just how he is. i promise.”

night begins to fall, and they suggest going to a bar for dinner, more for the drinks and not the food. you accept, and in turn, so does yeonjun — though you immediately regret not thinking the decision through more. the bar is dangerous. not in an external hazard sense, but in more of a you’re scared of getting drunk and vomiting your blossoming feelings onto his shoes type of sense. you keep your drinking to a minimum, still on your first drink an hour in. next to you, however, yeonjun is starting to collapse in on himself, hunched over the counter of the bar as his third drink kicks in. a giggle bubbles up from your throat. you never pegged him to be a lightweight.

“let’s get you some water,” you gently suggest, a comforting hand on his shoulder. waving the bartender over, you ask for a glass, helping him sit up and take a sip. his chin falls onto your shoulder this time, eyes hazy as he looks up at you with a dopey smile.

“you’re really pretty, did y‘know that?” he slurs, leaning further into you as an arm wraps around your waist. his barstool screeches across the floor, shifting closer to yours. you freeze as shock fills your veins, nerve endings beneath his touch on fire. he pokes your warm cheek. “s’pretty.”

you blink. hard. “yeonjun, you’re drunk—”

“no ‘m not. ’m perfectly— ‘m perfectly fine,” the words stumble out of his pouty lips drenched in fatigue, his tone whiny and petulant, as he turns in his seat to wrap his other arm around your waist, forehead now sagging against your shoulder. your body stiffens up, tense muscles frozen in place as he continues his delirious ramblings.

“i need to go to the bathroom!” you all of sudden exclaim, attempting to pry his arms off of you. he only squeezes you tighter, whining how you can’t leave here alone. you sigh, patting his hair, “you could wait outside?”

he accepts the offer, but doesn’t remove his arm from your waist as both of you stand. despite his almost six foot tall frame, you are forced to support him as he stumbles along towards the bathrooms and pray that you don’t twist an ankle in the process. when you reach the women’s bathroom, he still doesn’t let go.

“nooo, don’t leave meeee,” he whines, pulling you back into his chest while your hand grips the door handle. calling his name, you slip your hands beneath his and grab them to pull them off of you.

“i’ll be right back, i promise,” you say once you situate him against the wall, his shoulder hunched and his head hanging down towards his chest. you give him a worried pat on his head before disappearing into the bathroom. in reality, you do not have to go. instead, you stand in front of the mirror, taking in your blown out eyes, feeling a scorching heat encase your face and spread down towards your chest. he’s drunk, you remind yourself. he doesn’t know what he’s saying.

you wash your hands once. twice. three times, allowing the cool water to run over your heated skin. you splash some on the back of your neck. calm down. calm the fuck down.

you are, indeed, not able to calm the fuck down before a flurry of knocks reverbates against the door. yeonjun’s voice follows soon after, asking if he can come in, if you’re okay. “why have you been gone for so longggg? i miss you!”

“no! don’t come in!” you yell, glad that all of the stalls are vacant. making your way back over to the exit, you wrench open the door and find him standing there, fist raised in the air as if he was going to knock again.

he blinks once. then, an impossibly wide grin splits his face. “you’re back!”

stepping forward, you allow the door to swing shut behind you. arms wrap around you once again, but this time, you stumble backwards into the wall. when you look up, his face is just above yours.

oh.

oh, fuck.

this feels like a repeat of day one all over again, you trapped under his gaze, but this lacks the distance of that day. the unfamiliarity with each other. his hands haven’t left your waist, fingers pressing into your flesh over your thin dress, while the wall presses into your back. you have nowhere to go, but maybe you’re more drunk than you initially thought, because his lips look very inviting right now. you watch his eyes trail down to your parted lips, then back to your eyes, tongue darting out to swipe over his bottom lip. his eyelids hood his dark, hazy pupils. the muscles in his neck contract, his adam’s apple bobbing as he leans closer, an electric attraction between your lips. you tilt your head, eye fluttering shut, moving closer, closer…

“y/n! there you are!”

yeonjun jumps away from you as chaewon rushes up to you. her hands find your shoulders as she cries, “kkura twisted her ankle really bad! can you help me?”

you turn your head towards yeonjun, then back to chaewon, whose wide, rounded eyes plead you to come with her. “okay,” you say softly. “let’s go.”

yeonjun follows close behind, and all you can think of is what would have happened if chaewon didn’t show up. sakura’s ankle ends up being fine, and getting her back to her hotel room isn’t too difficult given the close proximity of the hotel.

*:･

four days. four days you have known yeonjun, but it feels like it’s been years since you met each other. that fact strikes fear into your heart, remembering that the last time that this fast burn of feelings in your heart occurred, you ended up a brokenhearted mess for months. if yeonjun is the sun, his overwhelming heat melting you down into a puddle, then beomgyu was a black hole, all-consuming and ripping pieces of you away when he abruptly up and left. you’re unsure if you can go through that again, but at the same time, yeonjun doesn’t give off the impression of a drifter who wouldn’t tell you he’s leaving until after the fact. he’s a constant, a steady fortress. reliable, enduring.

“good night,” yeonjun murmurs, both of you standing in front of your door.

“good night,” you parrot back, rocking back on your heels, but you don’t really want him to go. knowing that isn’t realistic, you settle for opening your arms up towards him. for the first time, he hugs you good night, his lithe arms wrapping around your waist while he presses a drunken kiss into the crown of your head, and a feeling of being home washes over you.

day eight.

he sits closer to you now. no longer is there a gap that separates your bodies, a full chair between the two of you. now, he sits right next to you, thigh brushing against your own. his hand sometimes finds your knee, never too high on your leg, never uncomfortable. just…there, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into the skin. neither of you mention what transpired between you last night, his affectionate words, the mere centimeters that separated your lips before chaewon interrupted. nevertheless, an unspoken barrier between you has broken, its bricks torn down by the hands of intoxication — due to alcohol, but also because of each other.

the almost-kiss replays in your mind in a constant loop; the woody citrus of his cologne is still strong in your nose, the warmth radiating from his flushed cheeks a phantom against your skin. you want to talk about it. you want to rip open the memory like a pomegranate for the two of you to share, but you don’t. you don’t know what you would do if you ruined…whatever this is that you and him have going on. he’s become a sort of constant in your life that you don’t think you can live without. you like him; you can admit it now. what you feel is not just a mere attraction anymore, an artistic appreciation for his unique features. he brings out a brighter part of you, a part that has been buried deep into your soul over the years, beneath layers of grime and dirt and negative experiences that you won’t let go of. the gray film over your eyes has been wiped clean by him, him and his beautiful heart he so easily bares to others. his heart that is so full of love — love for being alive, love for others — you wonder if any of that love could ever be for you one day.

he watches you sketch, you let him snap photos of you doing so. you share a small bag of chips, greasy fingers brushing against each other during those times in which you both reach in tandem. for hours, you sit together in a silence that is no longer awkward, but soft and tender. shoulder against shoulder, skin against skin. words aren’t required, your actions speaking for themselves. you bask in it all.

day nine.

the space needle isn’t that impressive.

you’re sure it’s a much better experience when you’re at the top, but yeonjun shares a fear of heights with you, so there’s no way in hell either of you are going up there. instead, you stand beneath it, amongst an ever-moving sea of seattleites and tourists, and wait for chaewon and sakura to come back down from the tall building.

at the beginning of this trip, you’d allow for a few feet of space between your bodies, but slowly, it’s diminished to a scant few inches. you don’t really register this gradual change, as natural as it was. every once in a while, his pinky brushes against yours. neither you nor yeonjun move to do anything about it, either by pulling away or linking them together — a state of limbo that is befitting for a pair of strangers falling for each other. to make the dive into the unknown or to stay on the surface where it’s safe, that is the question.

“how much longer do you think they’ll be?” you ask, staring up at the pointed top of the tower. the sky is gray today, a bit chilly, but it’s an expected sight in washington during this time of year. “i’m getting hungry.”

yeonjun huffs a laugh, lightly elbowing your bicep. “maybe we could grab something real quick. i saw this taco truck nearby—”

“y/n? is that you?”

you’d recognize that deep timbre anywhere. the man that dropped your heart on the floor and vanished from the earth before he could watch the aftermath, the man that you never wished to see ever again.

turning around, you find beomgyu.

your phone slips from your hand, clattering against the concrete — but you can’t bring yourself to check if the screen has shattered. instead, yeonjun grabs it for you, rising with it as he anxiously asks if you’re okay. you don’t answer, too busy staring at the man now standing before you. he’s changed; his shorter hair has grown out past his ears, dyed a warm brown, though his black roots are apparent; soft pastel pullovers and light jeans have been swapped out for black slacks and a dark brown leather jacket, clothing choices more mature than when you last saw him. why is he here? you thought he lived in san francisco — you would’ve been less shocked to run into him there, but in seattle?

“i moved here a few months ago.” shit, did you say that out loud? “i could ask you the same thing.”

“i’m on a trip,” you quickly answer, no further explanation leaving your mouth.

he nods nonchalantly. you think you see his eyes flit to yeonjun for a second. “cool, cool.”

“yeah.” why won’t he walk away already? your feet are glued to the cement, jaw tense as you try not to cry. the memory of him texting you that he had left the city and things between you won’t work out come rushing back. why now? how can he show his face to you after all he’s done?

he nods again. “are you here for long?”

“just— just for today.”

“well, i’d love to catch up with you before you leave. i’ve missed you a lot. maybe we could grab dinner tonight?” his smile is soft, hopeful — manipulative, in a way.

“i’m actually pretty busy today,” you begin, but of course, you have no idea how to tell him no. “but maybe if i’m free later.”

“great!” he exclaims, hands now in his trouser pockets. he looks over at yeonjun again, the upward curve of his lips flattening. “i need to get going, but i’ll text you later. you still have my number, right?”

“i think so.”

“cool.” his smile grows excited. “see you later, then.” beomgyu turns to walk away with a confidence in his strut that he didn't have when he lived in new york. when he was dating you. how shameless can he be? soon enough, he disappears into the crowd. blinking, you wonder if that really just happened, turning back toward yeonjun. his jaw is set, eyes still staring at the point where beomgyu vanished. the gray clouds feel suffocating now. the cool air constricts your lungs. you want the cement to open up and swallow you when his hardened eyes turn to you.

“who was that?” yeonjun asks, tone casual, but there’s a…jealous? edge to his question. you’re looking into things too much — there’s no way he’s jealous right now.

“...my ex,” and it hurts you to admit it. his eyes darken as he utters a soft “oh.” you sigh, “yeah.”

he won’t look at you anymore. why won’t he? you didn’t do anything wrong. you had no control over beomgyu showing up. he purses his lips. “are you gonna meet up with him?”

your head shakes on its own, words escaping before you can think about them. “i don’t know, yeonjun.”

“okay.” biting his lip, he turns so that he faces the space needle again, stepping away from you. you feel like strangers again, an ocean of distance between you bodies. “yeah, okay.”

*:･

you don’t meet up with beomgyu.

meanwhile, yeonjun is nowhere to be found. after the beomgyu incident, the two of you waited in tense silence for your other friends to return. he then made up some lame excuse to leave, and didn’t turn back when you called his name. you haven’t seen him for the rest of the day, even when you return to the train. he won’t respond to your texts. eventually, you stop sending them; he obviously needs space for whatever reason, so you will give him it.

the terrible, painful thought of ruining everything you had with him sits in the forefront of your mind, taunting you. the girls try to distract you, showing you silly tiktoks and youtube videos and the like, but you simply offer them a half-hearted huff each time. once you explain what transpired while they were gone, however, their tune changes a bit.

“y/n, i’m going to be very honest, and i need you not to take it personally,” sakura replies. though your head lays on top of your folded arms, you signal that you are listening with a bob of your head. she continues, “your response wasn’t the best. it probably confused him, and now he doesn’t know if you’re still hung up on this guy or not. if one of his exes came up to him while with you, and he told you he didn’t know if he was going to meet up with them later or not, how would you feel?”

“shitty,” you mumble into your forearm.

“exactly. so give him space for now, and when he reaches out, explain and apologize. you owe him that much.” sakura sounds just like jennifer — they’d definitely get along.

“i know. i will.”

the waiter comes around with water, and you order a strong cocktail to go along with your dinner.

day ten.

“has he texted you back yet?” sakura asks for the thousandth time today.

when you shoot her a defeated glare, she gets her answer. no, of course he hasn’t. he hasn’t responded to you since he left. “you said to give him space.”

“yeah, but i didn’t know he’d fall off the face of the earth,” she shoots back. sighing, you tip your head back against the wall next to her bed. a lake passes outside, surrounded by tall grass and trees. small hills rise behind the blue expanse, but you don’t feel the same urge to grab your sketchbook and translate the view onto the page anymore. it’s funny, how easily one person can affect your mood, turn everything upside down with the mere lack of his presence in your life.

“he just needs time.” chaewon opens a can of soda with a pop! and takes a sip. “maybe it affected him more than we realize.”

“‘cause that makes me feel sooo much better.” sarcasm drips from your voice. “i’m such a fucking idiot.”

there’s a half-day stop in glacier national park tomorrow. will you see him, or is he going to avoid you for the rest of this trip? will you ever see him again? the emotions that swirl within you are reminiscent of how you felt before you met him. that grayness. that sinking sensation festering in your chest that claws it’s way down into your stomach and shreds it apart. you said that you wanted to burn, you wanted it to hurt, but this feels all too fast. too much.

sakura makes a noise in disagreement. “no, it shows that he cares about you. you just have to make sure you clear things up with him, and tell him that you like—”

“if you’re going to tell me that i need to confess my feelings to him, i really don’t think i can do that.”

“why?” chaewon prods. “what’s stopping you? he obviously likes you too.”

beomgyu. beomgyu is the fucking reason why. you can’t bare your heart to someone again, lest you get hurt all over again. after all that has happened, if yeonjun doesn’t reciprocate, it will confirm your worst fears — that you aren’t built to receive love, no matter how hard you try to mold yourself into a person that is deserving. dread churns in your stomach, rises into your throat like bile, acidic and fervid, as thoughts of worst case scenarios where you pour your heart only to hear “sorry, i don’t feel the same way.” you can’t do it. you can’t allow yourself to spiral again. however, you don’t divulge your reasons for holding back, remaining silent as you trace the patterns on the ceiling.

after a deep, shuddering sigh, you give them a three word explanation: “i don’t know.”

day eleven.

stepping off of the train into fresh air sharpens your dulled senses. the national park is beautiful, for lack of better words; thickets of trees spreading out in all directions as far as the see. the sun is rising over the mountains that stretch high above your head — you’re starting to enjoy this view more than the lifeless skyscrapers that await you back home. the train station looks more like a little lodge than an actual station, but you appreciate its quaint character. reddish-brown wood makes up the majority of the small-scale building. it looks like a place where people would spend the night in, with a warm, cozy fireplace in the wintertime, and wide open windows in the summer to allow the refreshing breeze to waft in.

meandering down the path behind the station into a field of tall grass littered with bunches of tiny, white flowers, you begin to reflect on everything that has happened on this trip. originally, you went on this stupid trip with the goal to find inspiration, and last night you had a very important realization: yeonjun is that something — you started drawing again because of him, you started looking on the bright side of things because of him, and most important of all, you fell for him. you didn’t just fall for him in the way an artist falls for their muse, no. you fell for him as a person. getting to know him has been one of the best parts of your trip, but now all of that has gone down the drain because yeonjun hasn’t responded to you in over twenty-four hours and you have not a clue what to do to try to make things right. if he doesn’t wish to speak to you, then that’s that. it’s over. whatever momentum this fleeting relationship had has been effectively pummeled into the dust that would blow away with even the gentlest of breezes.

you wish you could appreciate this view more. your paints sit in your backpack back in your room, out of sight so that you don’t have to think about them, nor hear their pleas to be used. although you now know why you lack the drive to paint and draw and generally create once again, no clear-cut solution to your problem comes to mind. instead, you wander through the grass towards a large, squatty boulder, climb on top of it, and plop down. your knees curl up towards your chest while your arms wrap around them, fingers tracing random patterns against your shins. fatigue solidifies in your bones, but the tranquility of the early morning the quiet tucks a blanket of peace over your body, swaddling the edges around you, cocooning you in.

you sit there, taking in the sounds and sights of nature, for hours. the chirping of birds sings a melody over the whisper of trees in the breeze. a deer leaps across the open field, disappearing into the trees, her fawn following close behind. bighorn sheep graze in the distance, their circular horns reminding you of cornucopias.

the rustle of trees and grass obscure the sound of approaching footsteps from your ears. it’s not until yeonjun begins to climb onto the boulder that you notice him. you hug your legs tighter to your body as he sits next to you, but not too close. an invisible wall separates you. he does not look remotely near your direction, his focus far out in the trees. staring at him, you wonder what to say. i’m sorry? i have feelings for you?

“i never met up with him.”

he still doesn’t spare you a glance. assuming he wants you to continue, you do. “i don’t know why i said what i said, but it was shitty of me to put you in that position, and i wanted to say that i’m sorry. i was just shocked, i guess. to see him. he ruined my perception of a lot of things, jjun.” jjun. that’s a new one. you are quite unsure where it came from, it slipped out before you could think. no matter, he’s looking at you now, and it’s your turn to look out towards the horizon. “trust, commitment, love…”

his gaze burns into your temple. you take a deep breath, fingers clenching the fabric of your jeans. “they’ve all been ruined for me. it’s hard for me to trust anyone after what he did. i’m terrified that the people i grow close to will wake up one day and leave me without a word. i’m scared that i’ll never get the closure i deserve when they do. worst of all, i’ve stopped believing that love is in the cards for me, like there has to be something wrong with me for him to have left me like that—”

“don’t. don’t you dare say that about yourself.” whipping your head around, you finally meet eyes for the first time in nearly two days. they aren't soft like they usually are when they look at you, but hardened, guarded. “there’s nothing wrong with you. you have every right to be hurt, and he’s honestly a piece of shit for doing that to you, but it’s unfair to assume that everyone that comes after him will be just like him.”

“i know, and i’m sorry. i know you’re not like him.” he doesn’t respond, and you begin to chew at the inside of your cheek. you watch an ant crawl its way across the rock beneath you. the small insect disappears over the edge.

silence. you begin to count the seconds. one, two, three, four—

“i’m sorry for not texting you back. i just needed time to think about things. a lot of things,” he starts. “i felt weird, for some reason. didn’t know how to talk to you about it.”

you offer him a tight-lipped smile. “no, i understand. i forgive you.”

important words remain unspoken, but both of you refuse to address them. instead, his hand finds yours, he links your fingers with his, and both of you peacefully watch the sheep graze across the field.

day twelve.

not everything is fixed yet.

despite being on speaking terms again, strain pulls your relationship taut. the unspoken words from yesterday hang heavy in the air, but you can’t bring yourself to give them a voice. you want to. your voice won’t work every time you try.

sitting next to yeonjun on his bed, you scroll through various forms of social media, bookmarking work that you find particularly interesting in between catching up on your friends’ posts. jennifer has been thoroughly caught up on what’s been going on after a long overdue apology for not responding to her texts. she understood, of course she did. she’s known you long enough to know how you can shut down whenever you’re feeling overwhelmed.

“i’m proud of you for telling him. i know it’s hard for you to share, honey,” she cooed to you over the phone last night. “but you need to tell him how you feel before it’s too late.”

you know that. you know damn well that once you get off this train, it may all fall apart, a budding romance distinguished by reality. there’s no security, no safety net for you to fall into if you take the leap, and while he showed you an inkling of how he felt yesterday, who’s to say he’ll feel that way tomorrow? the next day? are you willing to tear your heart open for him to consume if there’s still a chance of him throwing it away when all is said and done?

you don’t know the answer to that question. honestly, you don’t know the answer to a lot of those questions, stuck in this state of self-imposed purgatory. to rise or fall, what is the best choice? you don’t fucking know.

“is that yours?” he asks from over your shoulder, at a ceramic piece in your feed made by one of jennifer’s acquaintances. his breath snakes warmly over the expanse of your neck due to his proximity, his head so close you could turn and just kiss him—

stop it.

“oh, no. um.” you shift away from him slightly. distance. some distance feels more comfortable right now. “i don’t sculpt. i just paint, and draw.”

he makes an ahhh of understanding, leaning back onto his palms, the mattress sinking down with his weight. he’s staring at you like he expects something from you. what shall you give him? when you don’t say anything further, he does.

“can i see some of yours, then?” it’s an innocent enough request. rather than simply press on your account, your fingers move on their own until you reach your gallery. why? are you really about to bare your soul to him? you guess so, because he’s gently taking your phone from your fingers after gaining quiet permission from you.

he asks you questions as he pulls up certain pieces. the thought process behind each one, what made you do this, place that color there, how you came up with the composition, what the meaning of it all is. you try your best to explain each one. sometimes, your choices were the product of spontaneity. you thought yellow would look nice at that spot, so you put some there. her nose is crooked because it gives the piece more character. the color of the drapes in the background are blue for no particular reason other than the fact that your reference photo had blue drapes. you continue in a cycle of question, answer, question, answer, and some of your answers are more emotional than others. you remember where you were, both physically and mentally, when making all of these. you remember the ones you made when you were having a bad day, the ones where you felt like you were on the top of the world.

then, he pulls up one that you wish he didn’t. it was buried so deep into your gallery that you have no idea how he found it — your most dreaded hyperrealism piece: a woman lays on her back, hair fading into the foreboding, void-like background. her face is twisted up into an abject sadness, a deep-seated pain that even now, you have no idea how you captured so vividly. her veiny left hand is splayed next to her head, thin crimson threads tied to each finger so tight that she has begun to bleed. the strings fall limp beside her, severed from their counterparts that meander off of the canvas. more red threads loop their way around her neck, pulled taut as if to choke her — and to her throat, she holds a pair of sharp-pointed scissors, hand gripping the metal tight enough to pale her knuckles.

it’s dark. it’s terribly dark and you wish he never saw it. why did he have to see it? why did he have to choose that one? the world tilts on its axis as he stares down at the picture of your most soul-baring work, though you think it would be worse if he saw the actual painting in person.

“what’s the story behind this one?” he asks quietly. your lungs expel all air, and you’re left gaping for more. breathe, come on, you have to breathe. your inhale is shaky, shuddered. breathe. say something.

“that one…” your voice trails off into something quiet. scared. “i made it when i was in a really— really dark place mentally, um. i made it mostly because—”

he’s looking at you now, concern shining in his irises, but you push on.

“because i stopped believing in fate.”

while you could say more, you stop yourself there. you hate digging — digging into your deepest fears and emotions that you keep locked behind a wall so that you never have to feel them. a pandora’s box sits in the center of your heart, wrapped with chains to keep them imprisoned. somehow, though, you think yeonjun knows what you really want to say: you meeting each other wasn’t fate to you, but a gross series of coincidences, and when he asks if you think so, you simply nod.

“but out of everyone on this train, i met you. i got to know you — shouldn’t that mean something? can’t that be considered fate?” he presses. something akin to desperation laces his words, an urgency you’ve never heard from him.

it sure feels like fate, doesn’t it? after all of those times that you ran into him, how he found you in the observation car when it was just you in there, how your feelings have unfolded like taking apart a paper crane in the short nine days you have known each other — it feels like it should be fate, you want to admit that all of it does seem like the universe’s divine intervention. maybe you running away was really just you trying to deny your fate to meet yeonjun while on this train. maybe him finding you was fate, an apology from whatever is above for what they put you through a year and a half ago.

“i think—” you hesitate. “i think so. it’s hard for it not to when i feel like i’ve known you my entire life.”

and you sit there and he’s smiling at you like you just created the earth with your bare hands. chicago passes outside the window. the sun shines high in the sky over the high rises, glints across glass panes and into his room. all you have is one more day on this train, and most of it will be spent sleeping tonight. he’ll wait for you tomorrow, right? would he wait for you forever?

“you know, i tell most people that my name is daniel.”

tilting your head, you echo, “daniel?”

he hums as he scoots a bit closer, planting his feet on the floor next to yours and leaning forward. his knees support his elbows as he stares down at the floor. “it’s my english name. i used it when i was in college, i use it for my work, but for some reason, when i met you, my actual name, my given name, came out instead. call me silly, but i think my heart knew you’d become someone special to me. i wanted you to use my actual name — the one my parents call me. the one my closest friends call me.”

“oh.” why does your chest feel so tight right now?

he sucks his lips behind his teeth for a moment. “yeah.”

sitting there, you wonder how you should respond to that. words expelled like an exhale of air, colliding with each other in front of your eyes, unable to be unscrambled by your mind. this time, it’s you who reaches over, closing the distance between you with a hand over his. his palm flips open to meet your own, your fingers linking together like matching puzzle pieces. you take a deep breath, and squeeze.

“thank you,” you whisper. thank you for being here. thank you for helping me find myself again.

day twelve (point five).

“i’m gonna miss you guys so much!”

chaewon is basically on the verge of tears at this point, constantly blubbering how she is going to miss hanging out with you every day as she pulls you and sakura in for a hug over and over again. sakura laughs as she pulls away for the thousandth time this afternoon. “girl, it’s gonna be okay. we’re gonna meet up for coffee soon, right?”

she looks towards you, and you give an enthusiastic nod. “right. i’ll invite my friend too. she said she’d love to meet you guys.”

chaewon’s pout doesn’t vanish, but she looks a little less emotional after all of your reassurances. blinking back the remnants of her tears, she nods with a watery “okay.”

you bring her in for one more hug while sakura asks, “have you seen him yet?”

“no, i haven’t heard from him since last night.” your teeth worry your bottom lip, peeling a piece of raised skin off. the sensation stings.

her lips purse sympathetically, a hand being placed on your shoulder. “i doubt he’d leave without saying something to you, don’t worry. he has to be around here somewhere.”

“yeah, you’re probably right.” as chaewon pulls away, you check your phone again. no texts or calls yet. doubt ricochets around in your brain, but you know yeonjun; he wouldn’t do that to you.

“i’d love to wait with you, but my manufacturer is pissed i didn’t call them back yesterday, so i should get going,” sakura admits with an apologetic smile. her fingers squeeze your shoulder one time before her arm drops back to her side.

“i should go too,” chaewon sadly adds, kicked puppy eyes in full effect. “my cat is waiting for me. my friend said she was a little demon the whole time i was gone.”

“it’s okay,” you laugh, shooing them away jokingly. “you guys can go. i’ll be fine.”

with a last group hug, they grab their suitcases and head towards the hallway that connects the train station to the subway lines. sakura twirls around, walking backwards as she calls, “keep us updated! we need to know everything,”

“of course!” you yell back, grin widening. chaewon turns back too to wave, and you wave back. eventually, the crowd swallows them up, and you are left alone to wait. a few minutes pass, and you realize that this sea of people will likely make it impossible for either of you to find each other. his contact is pulled up on your phone, your thumb hovering the call button. you look around one more time—

and he’s standing right there, mere feet in front of you, in all of his glory, long hair still flopping into his face, eyes still dreamy and all-consuming. you stand there for a moment, simply staring at each other with stupid, goofy grins overtaking your faces. long legs carry him over to you, and before you know it, you’re wrapped up in his arms and pulled into his strong chest. you bury your head into the side of his neck, inhaling the scent of his cologne.

“thank god,” he murmurs into the crown of your head. “i thought you might have left already.”

pulling back, you fix him with an incredulous stare. “what in the world made you think that? i was waiting for you.”

his ears tint an opaque red, the raised apples of his cheeks flushed a similar hue. he’s bewitching, and despite knowing that since the very first day — the day that you drew him for the first time — there’s so much more to him than looks to you now. he’s beautiful in both body and soul, in heart and head. one hand removes itself from your middle to cup your jaw, steadying your gaze with yours. your heart pounds, knees weak like a newborn doe’s as he stares deep into your eyes. blinding are the emotions swirling in his dark irises, but it doesn’t burn anymore. it’s more like the caress of the sun in the springtime, bright yet gentle in its own right.

“this feels long overdue for me to say,” he begins, eyes closing as if to steel himself. when he opens them again, resolve has been added to the mix. “but i have feelings for you. i’ve never fallen for someone so quickly. i’ve never met someone like you, and i just— i knew, from the very day that i saw you, that we’d have something to do with each other. and then we kept running into each other, and i just thought wow, this has to be—”

“yeonjun,” you call, interrupting his ramblings. he pauses, eyes wide and anticipatory, as your hand moves up to cover his on your jaw. you can’t help the tremble in your lips as you speak. “i feel the same way.”

his lips purse, hiding a smile, before he surges forward and embraces you for a second time. the pure, unadulterated joy that the action brings you is like nothing you’ve ever felt before, and you’re almost…sad, when he pulls away.

“can i take you out on a date?”

the question throws you off kilter, and you have to catch yourself before you fall face first into his chest. “like, right now? with our suitcases and everything?”

“i’ve done much worse,” he chuckles, ruffling his hair, only for the locks to fall back down into his eyes. “but i meant later today, maybe? around six? i have to go take care of some things i neglected before i left.”

“that sounds wonderful,” you gush. despite your best efforts in keeping your excitement to a minimum, you bounce up onto your toes for second, heels sinking back onto the floor. you swear he mumbles a quiet “cute” under his breath before he’s slipping his hand into yours.

“perfect,” he beams, before he playfully continues. “shall we be off to the subway then, my lady?”

giggling, you fall into step next to him, your arm swinging with his between you. “we shall.”

*:･

he’s right on time to pick you up, dressed casually but not too casually. a cool beige, short-sleeved button-up is tucked into a pair of straight-legged black jeans that stop at his waist. the chunky converse on his feet cause him to be a bit taller than usual. evidently, he is distracted by his phone, head ducked down as he waits for you to show up.

“yeonjun!” you call out, causing his head to snap up. once he does, you find that he’s somewhat styled his hair back — most of it has been swooped back towards his ears. a few strands fall into his face, but his forehead is fully exposed, and he looks…amazing. sometimes, you wish you were a poet instead, because then you’d have the words describe what you were feeling, what you were seeing. his jaw drops at the sight of you, dolled up in a jean skirt and frilly tank top over a thin long sleeve, your makeup soft and flattering to your features.

“hi,” he breathes, and you repeat the greeting back to him. “you look…wow.”

“thanks,” you, biting your glossy lip. as his focus flits down to where your teeth dig into the soft flesh, you shyly smile, releasing it. a shock runs through you, new and carnal and it warms your stomach when he bites down on his own lip for a split second. “um, i know we didn’t really talk about where we were going to go, but there’s a thai place down the street from here, if you wanna go there? it’s my favorite.”

“of course,” he accepts, offering his arm to you. you loop your own through, standing close to him with your fingers pressing into the crook of his elbow. “lead the way.”

now that neither of you feel the need to skirt around your feelings, silence no longer lingers between pauses in conversation — both of you are able to pick it back up with ease. you meant it when you said that you feel like you’ve known him your whole life, and it reflects in the way you banter with him without worry or care. it’s…nice, freeing, not having to think too hard about what you’re about to say. natural. everything with him feels so natural.

when both of you are sated, in both terms of food and conversation, he offers to walk you back to your apartment. the sun is beginning to set, and the sky has faded into a wash of rosy pink. the hue reflects the giddy feeling churning in your chest, rendering you light-headed and dizzy and fuck you just want to kiss him—

and he does. standing in front of your apartment building, he swoops down and captures your lips with his. slow, unhurried, his lips taste sweet like thai tea and are as soft as clouds. no one leads the other, no one moves to deepen the kiss. no, instead, you and yeonjun savor the taste of each other, the syrupy, vertiginous feeling of your first kiss together. when he pulls away, his lips have a slightly swollen quality to them, though you’re sure own look the same. you don’t want him to leave yet. you want more, you want something carnal and irrepressible that, by the way he’s looking at you, he wants too. playing with the locks of hair at the nape of his neck, you pant against his lips. “come inside with me, please?”

soft eyes darken, and he takes your breath away once more with another kiss, hands squeezing your waist. once he separates your lips from his, he rests his forehead against yours. nerves flutter in your stomach. “okay.”

you find it terribly difficult to keep your hands off of him as you unlock your door, as it shuts behind you. for a minute, you stand there, waiting for something, anything to happen — then he’s crowding you in against your door and his lips are on your again. although there remains an air of softness, urgency fills the gaps where your lips don’t quite meet as they meld together, his tongue slipping into your mouth to curl with your own. your shoulder blades press into the cool wood of your door, the warmth of his body against your front a dizzying contrast to your scattered mind — but you want more. you want him.

when he slips a knee between your legs and knocks them apart, you let him. when he presses that knee into your core, encourages you to grind against it, you let him, you listen. whining into his mouth, you tug at his shirt, at his belt loops, his hair — anything you can get your hands on, you’re pulling at it, grinding down harder as his jeans rub your soaked panties against your aching pearl. a cry rips itself from your throat, mouth leaving as your head is thrown back against the door. “y-yeonjun—”

“patience, love. i’m gonna make you feel good,” he mumbles as he ravages your neck, nipping and sucking at the soft skin. his hands have snuck beneath your shirt and smooth over your stomach up to the cups of your bra, squeezing the flesh over the fabric. as you raise you arms, he helps you pull your top off, the article thrown onto the floor without ceremony or care. his hands loop behind your back, fiddling with your bra clasp. “can i?”

“please,” you keen, and he wastes no time in doing so, expert fingers sliding the straps down your arms until your bra, too, lays on the floor. lips find your right nipple, enveloping the pebbled flesh in a warm wetness that causes your back to arch into him. one hand pulls you into him, while the other tweaks your other tit. his teeth graze it, and the stinging edge of painful pleasure causes you to shiver. he hums, vibrations causing you to moan his name louder, plead for him to do more. leaving your breast, his mouth kisses and laps at the skin of your stomach. down, down, down, until he drops to his knees in front of you, swiftly unzipping your skirt and pulling it off of you. lips find your thighs, biting down lightly, and you squeak, hand finding his hair and pulling. he looks up at your through his lashes, absolutely depraved and almost drooling for more. you gulp, legs almost giving out under you as you smooth your hand over his hair, pushing the strands that have fallen into his face back. “can we— can we move to the bed?”

immediately, he stands, pulling you behind him before he’s placing you onto the edge of your bed with great care. before he can fall to his knees again, you curl your shaking fingers into his shirt. “take this off? i wanna see you.”

with a huff of a chuckle, he does as you ask, revealing a toned stomach, broad shoulders, muscled arms. your tongue darts across your lips as you drink him in, causing him to smirk. “like what you see, pretty?”

“y-yes,” you stutter out, quiet and wanting and full of lecherous need. your thighs attempt to squeeze together in order to provide some relief to your pulsating core, but his legs stop them from fully closing. his fingers find your jaw, squeezing the flesh. your cheeks heat up.

“so fucking cute.” the praise sends a white hot streak through your stomach and into your center. your face is on absolute fire now, vision growing hazy around the edges as you watch him sink down between your thighs, your panties quickly discarded to reveal your center to his eyes. two fingers trace your folds before dipping beneath them to find your entrance. his eyes widen at what he finds, fingers coming back up coated in your wetness, glinting against his fingertips and knuckles in the light streaming in through your windows. “you’re so wet, baby. this all for me? a little kissing got you this needy?”

“mhm— oh,” you gasp when he brings the fingers to his mouth, sucking on them lewdly as he refuses to tear his gaze from yours. he moans at your taste, hot tongue swiping up the remnants that accidentally smeared onto the corner of his lips once he removes his fingers. his smirk returns, hands sliding under your ass to pull you closer to the edge of the bed, closer to his mouth. you sit up on your elbows to watch him kiss his way up your inner thigh, hands holding you open for him. there’s nowhere for you to hide, as he traces your folds with his tongue, dipping into your entrance and swiping up to your clit. crying out, your fingers find his hair in an ironclad grip. he groans against your pearl, your hips bucking up into his face before his arms snake around each thigh and hold you still. he alternates between circling the bud with his tongue and sucking it between his plush lips, spit pooling at the corners of his mouth as he loses himself in your taste. meanwhile, you’re already so close to the edge, you can feel your walls begin to clench around nothing, your hips jumping up as far as he allows. as he dips down to your entrance, his nose bumps against your clit, but his tongue is back in no time to continue its assault on your poor little clit. “jjun, ‘m gonna, please, ‘m gonna—”

“cum,” he mumbles against you. “cum f’me, pretty girl.”

with his permission, your head falls onto your sheets, eyes rolling into the back of your head as your vision spots white. cries pour from your lips like honey for him to drink, but you never quite come down fully. rather, he keeps circling his tongue against your clit through your high, and as your orgasm subsides, another one already begins to build. tears prick your eyes as you plead, “jjun, no, can’t, i can’t, nonono— i can’t!”

“yes, you can,” he murmurs, removing his arm from your right thigh. his lips don’t leave your clit as you feel two fingers slip into your soaked entrance, smoothly thrusting in and out and curling up into your upper wall until he finds that soft spot inside you that has your voice shattering into shards of moans and staccato wails. he groans against you as he feels your walls clench, the pace of his fingers unforgiving as he coaxes another mind-shattering orgasm from your body. your fingers flutter around his walls, watery hiccups torn from your throat. this time, he slows down, helps you ride out your high, before he removes his fingers, licking his lips of your essence as he does. climbing onto the bed, he hovers over you, taking in your spit-slick lips and tear-lined eyes. he wipes the tears away with gentle motions, cooing when you whine. he sits there until you come back to him, lucidity shining in your eyes as you blink them open. smiling, you pull him in for a languid kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue before he pulls away.

when he caresses your cheek with his thumb, asking you if you’re okay, you lean into his touch, “mhm, want you to fuck me.”

“i can do that,” he laughs, causing you to reciprocate. standing, he slips his jeans and boxers down his thighs until he’s left in nothing, hardened cock veiny and flushed an angry red. you think it’s an average length, on the thicker side, the girth causing your mouth to water. as he runs his hands up your thighs, he asks, “d’you have any condoms, love?”

while you’d rather him fuck you raw, you know it’s safer this way. you point towards your nightstand. “there.”

as he fetches one, you scoot into the middle of the bed, watching him roll it on before he returns between your thighs, pumping his cock once, twice, lining it up with your entrance. his free hand grips your waist, watching as you move your hips to try to slide him into you. smirking, he presses his hips forward, cockhead dipping past your entrance. both of you moan at the sensation. slowly, he works his cock into you, little rolls of his hips until he’s seated fully within you, hips flush against your pelvis.

“move,” you whine. “please move.” and that’s all it takes for him to swiftly pull out and slide back in again. as he thrusts into you again and again, his movements grow rougher, the tip of his cock brushing against your g-spot each time. moaning, you reach up towards him, forcing him to lean over you so you can kiss him again, swallowing each other’s sounds. he’s just as loud as you, praises falling naturally between his breathy moans.

“feel s’good, baby. so fuckin’ tight and wet f’me. so unreal. d’you feel good, too?” he coos against the shell of your ear, warm breath curling against your necks. your walls clench around him at his desperate sounds.

“s-so good, jjunie,” you hum, feeling your third high of the night approaching. the knot in your stomach grows tighter as his thrusts grow sloppy, chasing his high as much as you are. a thumb moves down to rub your sensitive clit, quick little circles against the bud until your limbs are locking up, quaking as you finally cum around him. a few seconds later, his high hits him as well, his hips quivering as he spills into the rubber with a loud groan.

slowly, he pulls out, ridding himself of the condom and soon returning to the bed to plop down next to you. arms pull you in close as you both pant and grin tiredly at each other, basking in the quiet that permeates the air, and he stares at you, dulcet eyes boring into yours.

“what’re you thinking about?” you decide to ask, poking the center of his sweat-beaded forehead. taking a moment to respond, he pulls you even closer so that your noses almost touch.

“it’s just— there’s this concept in korean — inyeon,” the timbre of his voice raises slightly as he switches to his native tongue, and lowers again when he switches back to english. “that, um, it means…”

his cheeks are growing the slightest bit pink, a shade that reflects the cotton candy clouds that float past your windows. squeezing his hand, you silently urge him to continue, soft gaze finding his own. a gentle kiss pressed to his cheek, his jaw, naked skin pressed against naked skin. together, whole, one.

he starts again, “there’s no direct translation, but it basically is fate. strings of fate. i truly believe the universe has connected us in some way, whether it be through some invisible red string or another force. and i know, i know what you said about fate, but i can’t stop thinking about how we found each other. there’s something beautiful about starting off as strangers and getting here. i don’t know, i’m just rambling at this point,” he chuckles, burying his nose into the pillow under his head. “i’ve just never felt this way about someone before. i’m sorry.”

with a gentle hand, you cup the side of his face, forcing him to look back at you. “don’t be sorry, that’s beautiful, and i think—” you sigh, blinking back tears that threaten to fall. “i think you’ve changed my mind about fate. i’ve also never felt this way about someone before. i feel like you know me on some level that no one else does. you just. you just get it, and i—”

you don’t think this is quite love yet, but you believe what you’re feeling within your chest, tingling all over your body, is as close as you’ve ever gotten to it. he smiles, whispers a small, soft, “i know,” and lips find lips once more. hands find hands, and you feel alive. you feel like everything that you see is now in vivid technicolor, no longer masked by a veil of gray.

and when you wake up tomorrow, you think that you’re going to start a new painting.

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dejwrld · 2 months

Text

⤷‧₊˚ extra credit comes with a price when it involves professor ackerman.

┊ •° ੈ ⋆° ┊ warning readers discretion is advised — female reader, female anatomy described, reader is black coded, grad student!reader, professor!levi, age gap (reader in late twenties while levi in thirties), praise kink, degradation kink, corruption kink, oral (character receiving), reader gives levi a mouth hug lol, dom!levi, told in 2nd pov, levi is 6'1 in my head and in this fic (he was made short because they didn't want him to outdo eren's face card), mdni

a repost from my old account.

The top of your black pen grazed over your lip as you stared at your current grade. Graduation was just around the corner, it was practically in the palm of your hand. But here it was sliding through your palm bit by bit as you watch your grade descend lower and lower for your physics course. You only blamed yourself. Registering for classes later than usual and was stuck with the professors that had a horrible rating on ratemyprofessor.com.

Your eyes never twitched in annoyance before reading the reviews and rating on Professor Ackerman’s. To rants about how hard his tests were, his harsh grading, and even locking the lecture hall door so late people couldn’t come in disturbing his teaching. You felt frustrated that this one course seemed to be the one to decide if you’ll be walking across the stage in a couple weeks. So, you sucked in your pride and decided to ask for the one thing Professor Ackerman wrote in bold letters on his syllabus that he does not give out.

Extra Credit.

Perhaps, you were wishing the worst as you sat in the library. Your pretty smooth thighs adjust in the seat to prevent the nervous squirming waiting for a reply. Your teeth were grazing at your lower lip as your fingers kept clicking to refresh your emails. When you saw the email, your mouth gaped open seeing that he approved giving you extra credit. You were mentally doing a happy dance as you concluded that this would be another semester of you being on the Dean’s List after Professor Ackerman’s extra credit.

You promptly responded that you’ll stop at his office before you leave campus to go home. Which you quickly got a response from Professor Ackerman. Your eyes scanned over the harsh email of him demanding you to come receive the work now because he refused to wait for a student that came to him demanding help. You let out an annoyed sigh and questioned how could such a harsh man still be a professor at your university. You packed up your stuff quickly and made your way to his office. As you were leaving, you nearly knocked down Historia and Ymir.

“I’m sorry you guys, gotta meet with Professor Ackerman.

,” You briefly said as you went to leave.

“Professor Ackerman? Gosh, the last person, who went to his office hours they dropped the class.” Historia mentioned. She toyed with the ends of her cream sweater.

“Yeah, I even heard they left his office crying,” Ymir even adds.

“Thank you guys, for making me nervous about picking up extra credit work,” You admitted as you watched them disappear into the library.

When you reached his office, you felt so nervous. Your hands shook just a little as your mind was racing with so many thoughts. You hoped you didn’t stumble on your own words as you accept the extra work. You had to walk in there with your head held high and thank him for even giving you the opportunity to get your grade up. However, when your body slid into his office majority of your thoughts went out the window and your brain grew fuzzy.

It wasn’t any secret that Professor Ackerman was drop-dead gorgeous. He aged like a fresh bottle of wine imported from Italy. Many students and faculty whispered among each other about him. Wondering if he had a lover at home or if he even socialize at all. He was a huge mystery.

“Professor Ackerman, I am here to collect the extra credit work you mentioned in your email,” You say.

Your fingers toyed with the ends of your skirt as your eyes were peering at him while he was grading papers. His eyes never bothered to look up at you, “Just sit down and give me a minute.” He uttered in annoyance.

You did what you were told, occupying the brown leather seat that sat in the corner of his nicely decorated office. Professor Ackerman let out a sigh of frustration, “Not there. Right here.” His hand that wasn’t holding the red ink ball pen motioned to the seat in front of his desk.

You quickly stood up going to the seat that was in front of his desk. He went back to grading the work on his desk as your curious eyes once again scanned his office. From the ancient artifacts that were decorating the shelves, the number of books he had, and even the one picture of him smiling with a group of friends. Which actually took you by shock even seeing him smiling at all.

“You know, I don’t really give out extra credit.” Professor Ackerman said as he finally placed his pen down to look at him.

His intimidating stare caused you to shift yourself in the seat you were sitting in. Your fingers toying with each other as you were searching for words to say. You were wondering how could you be so confident answering and refuting him in class, but now that the two of you were alone you were a flustered mess.

“Which I appreciate you for even offering it to me.” You answered truthfully.

You only gained a hum in response before he was back grading papers. “Do you know why I’m giving you extra credit (Y/N)?”

“I’m an excellent student in your class.” You answered truthfully. After all, last time you checked you did have the highest grade in his course.

“If you were so excellent, you wouldn’t be here for the extra credit.” He shot down your comment and that felt like a dagger pierced at your heart.

“Well then, I don’t know.” You shrugged your shoulders.

He placed the pen down once again just for him to look at you. Once again it felt like you were in the hot seat. He leaned back into his huge leather chair, “You have a pretty mouth.” He bluntly admitted.

His comment caused you to be so confused. But that was until he urged you on your knees right in front of him behind his large desk.

Your mind was racing with so many thoughts as you looked up at him through your eyelashes. The look of innocence painted your face as your hand rubbed at his clothed bulge through the charcoal grey-colored slacks he wore. A low chuckle escaped his lips as he was rolling up the sleeves of the white button-up he wore. When his sleeves were rolled up to his liking, he stared down at you. As if you were below him.

“Open your mouth.” He demanded.

You did what you were told. Opening your mouth open to show him your exposed tongue waiting for his next command.

The pad of his index and middle finger pressed against the flat of your tongue. Your eyes began to water as his slick digits only pushed further causing a pornographic gag to escape from the back of your throat. Professor Ackerman’s lips curled into a smirk as he removed his fingers, a string of saliva followed along with his digits as he went to unbutton his pants.

“Pretty smart girls like you deserve extra credit don’t you think?” Professor Ackerman questioned. His fingers toyed with the band of his Calvin Klein briefs now this his slacks were hanging loosely around his waist. “Answer me (Y/N).” He says as his thumb traced alongside your lower lip.

“Yes Professor Ackerman. A pretty smart girl like me deserves the extra credit.” You babbled.

“Mhm, I think so also. But my extra credit always comes with a price.” Professor Ackerman hummed as he tugged his cock out of his briefs. His member springing out with perfection and the only thing you could do was watch.

Your eyes lit up with eagerness and your mouth watering at the sight of his pretty cock. He kept it nicely shaved all the way down to his balls. The head of his cock was a flawless pink shade and it was shaped perfectly. You couldn’t stop thinking about the possibility of his tip rubbing at your wet folds teasingly before sinking himself in you fully. But you knew that wasn’t going to happen. The way your knees were on the wooden floor as you waited for another command like a perfectly trained pet, Professor Ackerman wasn’t going to give you the satisfaction of feeling his cock inside you.

His hand grabbed a hold of his cock as he tapped at your lip gloss-covered lips. A devious smirk paced on his face before he was speaking once again, “Suck it really well and the extra credit is all yours (Y/N).” He cooed.

Your heart was pounding against your chest as his precum smeared against your lips. You perched yourself on your knees to get comfortable before leaning forward to attack. Your pretty lips wrap around the head of Profesor Levi’s cock tasting the saltiness of his precum. A low hiss escaped the professor’s lips as you could feel him shutter against your touch. Your hands then went up to massage his shaft while your tongue licked up and down the base of his cock. Saliva beginning to coat your hands as your head was bobbing up and down on Professor Ackerman’s cock.

The lewd sound of sucking echoed within Professor Ackerman’s office as you were going down on him. His fingers ran through his jet-black-colored hair as he was turning into a moaning mess before you. His face turned as red as a tomato with each stroke you did with your hands while your lips smothered his tip. Despite being on your knees and only touching the older man with your mouth, you could feel the amount of heat was radiating off his body. Which you knew he was only growing hot with each second when he was unbuttoning his shirt to toss it across his office.

He looked down at you with such a flustered look, it caused you to smirk as you were stroking him off trying to catch your breath. When he saw your smirk, he would return one right back at you But his was very more sinful. “Smart girls don’t use their hands. Stop using your hands.” He demanded.

As your hands that were covered in your own saliva dropped to your side, your eyes begin to water as you felt Professor Ackerman’s hips push forward. The pornographic gagging sound followed by more saliva coating his cock caused him to move even faster. Your tears begin to burn your eyes with each harsh thrust towards your face. Your saliva was dripping out your mouth like a dog and your tears were staining your cheeks testing out your waterproof makeup. Professor Ackerman’s right hand grasped at the back of your head before he’s pushing your head forward. His cock disappeared into your mouth bit by bit as you gagged aggressively. Your gagging sent vibrations around his cock causing Professor Ackerman to utter out a string of profanity words. The tip of your nose pressed against this happy trail with ease as your hand grasped at his toned thighs. Your fingernails dug into the skin of his thighs as he held your head down while his cock rested in the pit of your throat.

When he let go of your head, your head bounced back like a yo-yo. Your chest rose up and down as you were trying to catch your breath. A thick string of saliva connected from your pretty mouth to Professor Ackerman’s cock. Your hand wiped at your tears that were clouding your vision and you could feel your lace panties grow wet at the action that just happened. Professor Ackerman made you choke on his cock and you instantly grew soaked. Who would have thought?

“We’re not done yet doll,” Professor Ackerman uttered as he’s grabbing a hold of your head once more. Guiding you to suck once again, but this time he had both of his hands on the back of your head guiding your movements. “Such a pretty smart girl that can suck my cock so well.” He complimented.

“You look so stunning wrapped around me like this.” He praised through subtle grunts.

Your tongue swirled around his tip and that seemed to push the professor further off the edge.

“Keep doing that and I may cum right in that pretty mouth of yours.” He added.

As you kept sucking at his cock, your hand reached down to rub your wet folds through your panties. Professor Ackerman chuckled at your poor excuse of desperation. “Want me to touch you huh?”

With his cock in your mouth like a flavored popsicle, you would nod with enthusiasm. You needed him to touch you. You craved for his fingers to be the one rubbing at your puffy lips. But through your glossy wet eyes, you were met with Professor Ackerman’s cruel smile. He wasn’t going to give you what you wanted. Instead, you watched as he swooshed around his own spit in his mouth before letting the huge droplet of saliva travel down to his cock that still was in your mouth. His own spit landed on the shaft of his cock that wasn’t buried deep inside your mouth.

“Now use your hands if you want that extra credit (Y/N).” Professor Ackerman urged.

With eagerness, your hand clasped around his shaft and you begin to massage it at a rhythmic pace. Using his own saliva as lube while you sucked at his tip and massaged his shaft. Once in a while, your tongue dragged alongside the one vein that occupied the back of his cock before cupping at his ballsack.

“Fuck, that feels good.” He cursed. “I’m going to cum.”

As if that flipped a switch inside you, your mouth latched onto his ballsack while your hand massaged his shaft. Sucking fiercely enough to gain whimpers and groans from Professor Ackerman as his body began to shutter. You released yourself from his heavy balls with a pop before your went back to massaging his dick, your thumb pressing against his swollen tip once in a while.

“Please (Y/N)—”

“Please what Professor Ackerman,” You cooed while you kissed at his tip once again, your hands still gripping at his cock.

“The extra credit is all yours, just let me cum.” Levi urged as his hips bucked forward just to feel even more friction around his cock.

“I’m not stopping you from cumming Professor Ackerman.” You said as you pumped his cock in your hand. Imagining that perhaps your hand was your tight cunt wrapped around him.

Professor Ackerman uttered a word in German as thick ropes of his cum began to decorate your hand. Your hand slowed down at a steady pace with each pump of the creamy white substance decorated not only your hand but the blouse you were wearing.

Professor Ackerman plopped down on the large leather seat behind his desk as you climbed back off the ground. Your knees were bruised harshly, cum stained your blouse, and your throat still was grasping for recovery due to the way he pushed so aggressively towards you. You smooth down your skirt before picking up the folder filled with the extra credit worksheets. Smoothly letting them drop into your bag and going to make a quick exit. Frankly, you didn’t want to get caught by another student or even a faculty member. Your hand went to unlock the door, but you heard Professor Ackerman’s voice stop you.

“Are you stupid? Are you that much of a nuisance that you’ll go out like that?” Professor Ackerman said, he stood up shuffling to the small brown chest in the corner of his office. His nicely tailored dress pants hung loosely around his waist as went through it.

When he stood back up, he had a crewneck sweater shirt with the university name on it. However, this one was a bit different from the ones that were currently being sold in the bookstore. This was a vintage one, assuming it was from when Professor Ackerman graduated.

You tugged off your shirt with quickness and stuffed it into your bag and soon tugged on the sweatshirt. It lingered with that familiar cologne he wore. Eros by Versace.

“Please return both the work and my sweatshirt by the end of my office hours tomorrow.” Professor Ackerman bluntly said before he was cleaning up the mess the two of you had made.

“Yes, Professor Ackerman.” You respectfully responded before leaving his office.

The thing you just did for extra credit.

#levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman smut #aot x reader #aot smut #attack on titan smut #anime smut #anime x reader #snk smut #snk x reader #aot x black reader #female reader #anime x black reader #⊹˳⁺ ♡ 𝒻𝒶𝓃𝒻𝒾𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒸𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈

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goldenbuckyyy · 1 year

Text

YOU’RE ALL I WANT

Summary: You and Harry finally reconnect.

Pairings: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.7kish

Warnings: Over 3k of smut!! Oral (fem! & male!receiving), fingering, allure to squirting, raw sex, creampie, slight fem!reader!Dom/subrry vibes if you squint!! 🤏🏻

A/N: Hi!! Sorry this has taken so long! The holidays were very crazy and work has been… just as crazy as always! But she’s here and I hope you love her as much as I do.. because I love her!! I’m also going to be tagging anybody who mention needing part 2 since it’s been a while!! Also, this is probably the last part! Song title inspo: “You’re all I want” by Cigarettes After Sex

Divider is by @silkholland!! I love your divider so much! Thank you for allowing us to use them. 🫶🏻

All my mistakes are my own. Please do not repost or translate my fics on any other site nor this one.

I appreciate any likes, reblogs, messages, and interactions. Please message me your thoughts!!! It fuels me!

PART 1 || Main Masterlist

May 20th, 2022.

You tapped your fingers on your countertop as you watched the time slowly trickle by.

3:03PM.

Watching how slow the time was going felt almost agonizing.

You let out a groan as you felt as if time had never gone by any slower. You were still in your pajamas, sipping on your door dashed iced latte, stomach still full of your late morning breakfast, and you felt nervous. Nauseated, almost.

So nervous about seeing Harry tonight that you almost wanted to throw up. And you knew you didn’t have to feel this nervous, but it’s been almost a year that you haven’t seen him. It’s normal to feel this way. You can’t help it.

Harry’s album had already been out since midnight and you had to physically restrain yourself from listening to it. You wanted tonight to be the first night you listened to all of his new songs.

Either way, you knew they were going to be amazing.

You had also already chosen your outfit for the night. Which surprisingly had taken you so long to put together.

Simply because you wanted to look your absolute best tonight.

You searched throughout Twitter for concert inspiration and for any ideas that would help you. You knew fashion. You worked in fashion. You had your own famous fashion line and you still had no idea what to wear to this concert.

You’ve been to plenty of his concerts before. You even remember the outfits you wore to one direction concerts and it secretly made you cringe. Flashbacks of textured shorts and frail crop tops fill your mind.

But now.. now you wanted to surprise him and feel good. It’s been way too long since you had seen Harry's face and you missed him.

So, you did what you do best and you made your own outfit.

You ended up making a black jumpsuit with an amazing sequin fabric which covered every inch of it. It was long enough to pair with your favorite platform heeled boots that were comfy enough to be standing a long period of time in. You made the top of the jumpsuit have a cross neck fixture with a triangle opening right underneath your sternum and you made the back to match.

Now, it was just time for the clock to strike five for you to start to get ready.

So, here you are. Fiddling with your phone to try and pass the time faster.

You hop off the stool and move to your private sunroom in your penthouse that overlooks the river. You bask in the sun on your skin and wonder how tonight will go.

Hopefully everything goes well and Harry’s only expression when he sees you is happiness.

You can only hope.

You tug on your oversized silk blazer as you walk down the backstage hallway of MSG with Jeff by your side.

“Harry might shit himself when he sees you,” Jeff says to you with wild eyes and a loud laugh as you try and match his fast pace down the hall.

You let out your own nervous one as you fix your hair for the millionth time as you follow him.

“Don’t worry. I just might, too.”

You weren’t lying. You genuinely felt sick to your stomach. You had decided to wait until you knew that Harry would already be almost going on to text Jeff that you were waiting at the back entrance for him. Just so he wouldn’t be able to tell Harry you were here.

“The concert already started, but don’t freak. It just started,” Jeff says casually as you start to see the flashing lights from behind the curtain.

You still for a second right before you pass the curtain to let out a shaky breath. Reminding yourself to calm down. That it’s only Harry.

Jeff’s hands are suddenly touching your shoulders and he’s giving you a reassuring smile.

“Don’t be nervous. He’s going to be happy to see you. Trust me.”

You nod quickly and your senses are suddenly filled with loud screams. Thousands and thousands of people screaming for Harry. For your Harry and it makes your heart warm.

You follow Jeff to the side of the main stage behind a barricade, but in perfect view of Harry. And your eyes start to water as soon as you see him.

He’s wearing an adorable white shirt that’s lined with red hearts, black leather figure hugging pants, red sneakers, and a big chunky yellow necklace.

You cover your mouth to hold in your own cry, quickly shaking off the nerves as you settle into the spot next to Jeff, and you zone out as you admire Harry in his zone.

The way the music completely takes over his body and his actions. The way you can tell he lets the music get into his bones by the way he lets it take over and how he dances. The way he lets himself be free in a room filled with people that love him. People that you know he loves. His fans. His wonderful, amazing, love filled fans.

The way he smiles, laughs, and giggles so hard his dimples end up showing. And how he looks so freaking happy it makes you want to burst into tears.

You can easily tell this is his favorite thing to do. Just by looking at him. He’s the type of person that you can just watch and admire because everything he does leaves you in awe.

And that’s exactly how you feel.

Then, at the right moment when he’s prancing around the stage, and running on your side of the stage.. he glances down to look at Jeff and then he sees you.

You both lock eyes at the same time and he trips on his own feet, halting in front of you, and the screaming only intensifies when he breaks out into the biggest smile you’ve seen on him all night.

His hands immediately go to his heart and you see his eyes water as you smile back at him with matching watery eyes. He reaches for you with a small “Hi” leaving his lips and you mouth it back. You can tell he wants to say something else, but he quickly shakes his head with a grin and goes back to dancing around the stage.

You can hear fans calling out your name from around you as now they’ve noticed you. You look around, giving a small wave at the fans near you, and they shriek when you look at them.

You blush under their gazes as it never gets any less weird for you that people actually know who you are. But feeling grateful nonetheless.

Harry makes his way to your corner of the stage after he sings probably the saddest song you’ve ever heard and smiles at you as he settles himself with the microphone stand.

“Now this next song… this next song is incredibly special to me. One of my favorites actually. And…” he pauses and takes in a shaky breath. “The person who inspired this song is actually here tonight.”

The crowd goes wild. Loud cheers surrounding your entire body. You feel lightheaded as you watch Harry on stage.

Watching you.

He gives you a small smile and continues, “This person.. has been my best friend for almost a decade now. We actually met at a Halloween party many many years ago. Her best friend is actually the person I spilled my beer on,” you both chuckle at his words, “I’m getting off track here. But I just want to say that this person is the one person that I absolutely adore. I adore her, I admire her, I respect her, I recognize her, and I love her.” His voice cracks at the last couple of words, his bottom lip quivering and his chin caving in, and tears pool his eyes.

Your eyes are filled with tears at hearing his speech to you and knowing that this is showing his vulnerable side. Which he has always struggled with. You clamp your hands together against your chin as you only smile up at him.

“This is ‘Little Freak’,” he says into the mic as the band starts playing a soft melody.

The first lyrics remind me of the incident in Italy last year and your heart silently hurts. You grip onto the railing in front of you as you listen closely to each lyric.��

Finding yourself relating to each word and wanting to pull Harry into your embrace.

Did you dress up for Halloween? I spilled beer on your friend.. I’m not sorry.

You chuckle as you sniffle while slow tears fall down your cheeks and you quickly wipe them away. You watch him in awe as you hear everybody singing along to the lyrics. To a song that came out less than twenty four hours ago.

I disrespected you

Jumped in feet first, and I landed too hard

A broken ankle, karma rules

You never saw my birthmark

Okay. Maybe this is the saddest song you’ve ever heard. Harry holds out the microphone to his fans and gets overwhelmed when they’re singing back his lyrics so loudly. You laugh with joy at how happy he is.

“Thank you so much,” he says into the microphone with his voice wavering, but sounding so grateful.

Just thinkin' about you

He finishes singing the last lyric and he looks over at you with a smile. You smile back with a thumbs up and his dimples show.

The rest of the concert goes by so quickly you can’t even believe it’s been almost two hours since he started.

Every single one of his songs feels connected to you in some way and you wonder if you were in Harry’s thoughts when he wrote this album. You know ‘Little Freak’ is about you since he practically dedicated it to you before he sang it.. but you wonder about the rest.

A part of you doesn’t want to know.

Jeff is by your side as soon as Harry runs off the stage after doing his famous ‘Whale’ and glancing at you quickly.

Jeff wraps his arm around your shoulder, with a smile, he asks, “What’d you think?”

“He’s incredible.”

“That’s our boy.”

You hum in agreement and you both walk off backstage to the chaos that is the loud voices of people congratulating the band and Harry on a brilliant performance.

You stand in the background, watching Harry take each compliment with grace, a shake of each person's hand, and a dimpled smile on his face.

You watch him carefully, bouncing on your heeled boots, heart racing, fingers aching to feel Harry’s skin, and your body trying not to reach for him.

You smile softly when you notice his eyes searching the room and then they land on you. His expression changes to a mix of glowing happiness and absolute joy. He looks like a little kid that just got offered a lollipop at the dentist.

He politely excuses himself from the group he had just thanked and hastily makes his way towards you.

You open your arms to him on instinct, “Hi.”

His arms engulf you into his space, completely tucking you into his body, and you feel complete. His hands wrap around your torso, underneath your blazer, touching your skin, and your arms wrap around his neck. Your faces squeezing into each other’s necks and he whispers a breathy, “Hi.”

You melt into his embrace, smelling his cinnamon roll hair styling crème that he still uses, and it brings back a decade of memories for you. His strong arms squeeze you as he lifts you up off your toes and you can hear him inhaling your scent.

“God, I’ve missed you.”

You chuckle into his neck, “Me more.”

You both pull away at the same time, staring at each other, and you place your hand on his cheek. He leans into it with a small smile, beautiful glossy green eyes staring into yours, and you thumb his cheek.

“I’m sorry, H.” You confess with a soft tone, trying to hold your voice steady while your heart races inside of your chest.

“Don’t apologize. I’m the one that messed up, but.. c’mon.” He wraps his hand in yours, giving Jeff a small signal, and he starts to walk off towards his dressing room.

He leads you into the big dim-lighted room, shutting the door behind you, and locking it for privacy.

You stay in front of him, glancing at him and trying to see if you notice anything different about it.

But he’s still the same Harry. Right in front of you. Finally.

He pulls two cold waters from the mini fridge and hands one to you as he leads you both to the couch. You get comfortable as he kicks off his shoes, leaning into the green couch, and planting his feet on top of the coffee table. You sit back and admire him for a second before drinking some water.

After a moment of silence, he asks, “How have you been?”

“I’ve been good. Missed you tho.”

He smiles as he tucks his chin into his chest, arms crossing over his chest, “I did, too. More than you can imagine.”

“Yeah?” You question, playing with the rings on your fingers, and you look at him from underneath your lashes.

“Come here,” he says as he reaches for your hand. Your insides turn and you let him pull you into his lap. Your breathing hitches as he stares at your face, taking you in, and then his eyes land on your lips.

“Of course I’ve missed you. You’re my best friend,” he whispers into you as he slowly leans in and you close your eyes, waiting for his lips to touch yours.

“Do you still want me?” You blurt out bluntly, your eyes going wide, and you suddenly feel weak. You feel vulnerable. Insecure.

Harry tenses in front of you, his eyes going wide, and he searches for words. But nothing comes out. His eyebrows furr in confusion, “What? How-I… Are you serious? I was about to kiss you..”

You look down, ashamed at your question, and you feel him pull your face back up to meet his own eyes with his thumb.

“How could you ever think I wouldn’t want you?”

His eyes are sincere and full of concern. His body leans into yours, his arms that are holding you only grow tighter, and you wrap your arms around his neck limply.

You lean into his touch and try to smile. Your lips wavering when you say, “I.. I ignored you for months.”

“You had your reasons. I was awful to you. I said mean words to you that I should have taken back as soon as I had spoken them. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

His thumb caresses your cheek as you nod at him.

“I’m still sorry,” you say again as you kiss the inside of his palm.

“I have always wanted you.”

“What?” You say with a grin as he matches your own.

“I, Harry Styles, have always wanted you, Y/N L/N. Ever since the first moment I saw you. You are the most beautiful thing I have ever laid my eyes on and you continue being so.”

You let out a watery laugh as tears prick your eyes, you swat his chest playfully, “Stop! You’re making me cry!” You both laugh together as he places a big smooch on your cheek.

You giggle as he slowly starts to kiss your cheek and makes his way down to your lips.

His hands are holding your face when he leans back and asks you, “Can I kiss you?”

Before you can even finish nodding, his lips are on yours.

His lips feel soft and warm against yours. You both held your breath as he waited for you to respond to his kiss, his lips on yours, but full of hesitation.

You relax into his hands, letting yourself finally kiss him back, and a feeling of euphoria fills your body. You both moan into the kiss, tilting your heads for better access, and you pull at each other to feel closer together. He slides off your blazer and touches your naked arms, moaning at feeling your skin against his own.

Your tongue fights with Harry’s and you suck on his bottom lip with a moan. Your hands moving from the back of his warm neck to his curly hair, tugging at the roots, and filling with content when he groans into your mouth.

Harry lets go of your face and he’s moving your body over his own, adjusting himself onto the couch, and you plant yourself down on his hips. Feeling his hardening bulge against your core makes you feel hot. Your core aching in want and you grind against him.

You both meet again in the middle and kiss, lips lapping against each other, open mouthed moans, and pants filling the room. Slow hips grinding against each other.

In the rush of probably the hottest way you’ve ever kissed someone, he’s suddenly pulling away from your body completely.

Leaving your body aching for his touch and your skin feeling burned as his hands leave your waist.

You’re suddenly filled with confusion, furring your eyebrows, and peering up at H.

“What’s going on? Why’d you stop?” You pant out as you try to catch your breath.

H looks like he’s torn between a million emotions as he clutches his eyes in distress, a heavy breathe escaping his lips, and he’s shaking his head. Then.. he chuckles.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this..”

Your heart stops.

“But.. I don’t want our first time to be like this.”

Oh.

“Oh?” You question with a small smile as you sit up on his lap, adjusting your jumpsuit straps around your neck, and he’s leaning against the back of the couch… looking so adorable.

He looks almost shy right now and he blushes under your gaze.

“Yeah,” he says as he reaches for your hand and you let him. “I want our first time to be special. I want it to be in my bed or yours. And I want it…I just.. I don’t want to fuck you in this dressing room. I mean—“

You cut him off as your cheeks flush down to your neck at his words, “I have an apartment here.”

His eyebrows spike up in shock as he looks simultaneously confused, shocked, and you can tell he’s hurt that he doesn’t know about this major change in your life. You reach for his hand and squeeze it when he immediately grips onto yours. Trying to reassure him with your touch.

“Since when?”

“Fairly recent,” you say with a small smile playing on your sinful lips.

“Where?”

“The Copper,” you say with a glint of enthusiasm and he only matches you. Like always.

“You got an apartment there?” His eyes glint with a look of pride.

“I got the penthouse.”

The second that you both walk into your penthouse, Harry’s mouth and hands are on you. And you’re not complaining.

You throw off your blazer at the same time he kicks off his shoes.

His hands are all over the parts of your skin that isn’t covered and he stops when he finds the clasp around your neck. He swiftly unhooks your jumpsuit and you feel it fall over your shoulders and down your chest. Your breasts are now exposed and you feet the cold air brush against your nipples. Perking them up and making you gasp in pleasure.

He tugs on your jumpsuit which makes it pull around your waist and his hands move onto your breasts. He moans into your mouth when he feels them naked since you’re not wearing a bra or pasties. He thumbs your nipples and you whimper into him, licking the roof of his mouth, and sliding your hands underneath his shirt.

He manages to shove you against your couch and you both tumble on it, giggling into the kiss, and his hands are around your body to make sure you don’t hurt yourself.

You giggle as he kisses you, which only makes him giggle with you, and then you’re laying down on your couch. You pull away from him when you feel him get on his knees in front of you.

He slowly slides his hands underneath your jumpsuit, unzipping your boots, and tossing them to the floor. His eyes are only on you.

You watch him with want as he slips off his shirt, tossing it to the side, and you shimmy out of your jumpsuit. Tugging off your black thong with it.

Harry's lips are on yours again and he’s hungry. Kissing you deeply, his tongue fighting for dominance with your own, both moaning and panting, aching for each other, and he’s reaching down to unzip his pants.

Harry’s hands suddenly are off of your hips and his lips leave your own. You whine as you feel him pull away from you and you quickly open your eyes to watch him as he’s watching you, now sitting on his knees on the couch, and his eyes never leave yours.

He slowly lets his eyes wander down your naked body, fully taking in that this is the first time he’s ever seen you naked, and it makes you ache in ways you’ve never ached before. Makes your skin break out into goosebumps at the mere sight of him taking you in.

He stands up, shoving off his leather pants and his red briefs, and his long, thick dick makes an appearance. Your eyes go wide as you look at him, the first time truly looking at his dick, and your pussy only clenches with desire at the same time your mouth waters with want.

His dick is beautiful. Long, thick, and looking juicy. And waiting to fuck you up. His tip is leaking pre-cum already and it bounces with every movement he makes. He moves back to where he was sitting on his knees on the couch, admiring you as you admire him.

“Fuck,” he mutters out as he wipes his face with his hands before he sets them down on your ankles.

“What is it?” You whisper as you move your legs to open up in front of him, feeling your wetness coat your inner thighs, and he bites his bottom lip. His dick twitching in all its hardened glory. He’s almost fully leaking from the tip of his dick.

“You… are beautiful. Breathtaking.. and this is the first time I see you naked. I just wanna admire you,” he says as he pulls your ankle to his shoulder and kisses your shin. You smile as you let yourself spread out more for him as he starts kissing up your legs slowly and sinfully.

Your breathing hitches as he gets closer to your center, you're already antsy when he stops in your inner thigh, kissing both of them, licking them, and sucking small love bites onto them.

You massage your breasts as you lean your head down to get a better look at him.

“You’re glistening,” he mutters against your thigh, kissing right next to your aching pussy. You can help but moan out in want and anticipation. Your hips are getting a mind of their own as you try to hitch them towards his mouth and his eyes move towards yours.

“So inpatient,” he says as his cold fingers are suddenly touching your wet lips, pulling them open, and he spreads you to his liking.

“Oh my god,” you moan out at the sensation that overcomes your entire body at Harry finally touching you.

He moves himself in between your legs, pushing your thighs down on each side, and he lets his tongue slowly lick your pussy. You clench around him, you can’t fully believe that this is happening right now, and you twist your nipples in between your fingers. You tilt your head back in a pant when Harry slips two fingers inside of you.

“Fuck,” he groans out as he curves his fingers inside of you and your pussy only tightens around them. Your breathing has picked up and you can hear how absolutely drenched you are by the sound his fingers are making as he moves them in and out of your pussy.

Harry seems to only fuel himself more with your moans and panting because you feel him start to devour you. You gasp when you feel his tongue lick you from the bottom of your folds all the way to your clit where he swivels his tongue around it and sucks it into his mouth gently. The bundle of nerves makes the pit of your belly harden in pleasure, your back curving upwards, and your hands move into his curls to hold onto something. Anything.

You moan out his name when his fingers start thrusting inside of you, in and out. In and out. And then he picks up his pace, slightly, but making a big difference in how it fuels your impending orgasm.

His fingers continue to fuck you, his mouth devouring you, and his tongue is torturing you. In every possible way. You know this is going to be the best sex of your life. You know you’ll never be able to move on from this. You hope Harry will feel the same way, too.

His mouth moves skillfully against your pussy, his tongue flicking your clit in all the best ways, and you can feel the pressure slowly building up in your lower stomach.

Harry sucks onto your clit, making your legs start to shake slightly, and he inserts a third finger into you. You cry out in pleasure, your body feeling like it’s on fire, your skin is glistening with sweat, and you start to move your hips to match the pace of his mouth.

He doesn’t stop his movements. He only keeps going. His fingers fucking you like heaven, his moans sending shockwaves through your body, and then.. he moves his tongue into the right spot on your clit which makes you absolutely explode from underneath him.

You yell out his name, so loud that if you actually had neighbors on this floor, you’d be scared they’d come banging on your door for being so damn loud, and your eyes prick with tears from the amazing orgasm that overtakes you.

Your toes curl into the couch, fingers gripping onto his curls, entire body clenching and then releasing as you feel yourself soaking Harry's mouth and fingers, and he’s lapping up every single drop of your release. Moaning as you can see his thighs grinding into the couch.

You don’t even let your body come down from the high when you’re hastily moving from being underneath Harry to being on top of him, straddling him, and kissing him hard. Sucking his lips into yours and moaning when you can taste yourself on his tongue.

You kiss him for a couple seconds before you move down his stomach, licking his butterfly tattoo, sucking a couple love bites on his abs, and letting yourself make eye contact with him the entire time.

His pupils are blown out, lips plump and swollen, cheeks flushed bright pink, and he looks fucked.

“Fuck,” he pants out, his voice raspy and blissed out. And he can’t even react before you’re taking in his aching dick into your mouth. Fully deep-throating him that the tip is curving into the back of your throat. Your eyes water as you keep eye contact with him, your hands holding yourself steady against his fern tattoos, and his hands grip into your loose hair.

“Holy shit! You’re fucking-I-you’re fucking taking me all the way, baby!”

You preen at his words, bobbing your head on his dick, pulling up slowly to let your tongue lap over his tip, sucking off the pre-cum into your mouth, and moaning so that he feels every vibration in your throat on his dick. You can feel his dick twitching in pleasure inside of your mouth and it only fuels you to be better. You pick up your pace, nails digging into his hips, lapping him up, and everytime you go all the way down, you let your tongue lick his balls too.

Harry suddenly pulls your face off his dick and you whimper at the disconnection. You look at him with big, blown out pupils, and a stream of saliva connecting your lips with his dick.

He groans as his hands move down to your breasts, pinching your nipples, and then he thumbs your swollen lower lip to wipe off the mess.

“‘M gonna cum if you keep suckin’ me off like that, honey.” His voice is breathless as he cups your face, pulling you up easily, and connecting your lips with his. Your wet core lands on his fat, aching dick, and you already need him inside of you.

You’re aching for him.

You kiss each other roughly, hands all over each other, and you start hitching your hips higher trying to align yourself with his dick. You can feel his dick fluttering in between your folds, wetting him up even more, and then you feel your opening align with his dick. You shift your hips a little bit more and you feel the head of his dick right where you want him.

You lower down onto his pulsating dick and he groans into your mouth. His hands immediately find your hips, holding you steady as you try to lower yourself more, only being halfway.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ tight right now. So fucking tight, give me a second..” He moans even louder as he allows you to lower yourself even more until your pelvis meets his own. You steady yourself on his chest, tightening your arms against your breast, and smiling wickedly at Harry’s expression which only shows pleasure.

You slowly start to move against his hips, slowly bouncing on his dick as his tight grip on your hips help you move, and you can feel how desperate he is for you. How much he’s wanted this. How much you’ve been wanting this.

He slowly starts moving his hips underneath you, quickly changing the pace from slow and sultry to fast and rough. The sound of slapping skin fills the entire penthouse, your moans mixing with his own, and your hands are touching him everywhere.

“You feel so good,” you whimper out to him as you lick the curves of his neck as he pulls you into his chest as he hitches his hips to fuck into you like this.

“You were made for me,” he whimpers back as his arms wrap around your waist.

His thrust only increases in speed in this position. His dick filling you up completely, like nobody ever has, touching every inch of your walls, and your wetness only allows him to fuck into you faster.

You feel the familiar feeling building up in your belly, you lick and suck his earlobe, “I’m so close.”

He quickly turns you over, so that your body is laying on the couch now, his dick never exiting you, and now he hitches your legs to wrap around his waist. He presses down against our belly and it only fuels your climax.

“Oh my fuckin’—” you cry out as you feel Harry fucking you hard and him pushing against your cervix seems to increase the sensations.

“Feel me up here, huh?” He groans out as he continues to push into you at a rough speed which you can only nod, feeling absolutely fucked, and he moves his free hand to your clit. Moving his thumb in circles roughly against it which triggers your orgasm.

You clench around his dick, crying out loud, your entire body breaking out into goosebumps, and instant satisfaction floods you. You tighten your legs around Harry, pulling him into you, waiting for him to cum too, and he’s looking like a fucking god above you.

His curls falling around his face, sweat glistening his toned body and his forehead, fucked out, bright flushed pink cheeks, and you don’t know what comes over you…

You reach forward as he fucks you and you place your hand aound his neck, holding the sides, avoiding the center, and his eyes go wide.

His eyes instantly meet yours and his lips part in shock. And you keep moving your body against his, letting him use you completely, and then.. you squeeze around his neck.

His eyes roll back into his head, biting his bottom lip, fucking you rough and hard, and you know he’s about to cum. You squeeze his throat harder and your free hand reaches underneath his neck to tug his curls.

He lets out the loudest, gut-wrenching moan of the night, and his thrusts start turning animalistic, when he yells out, “Fuckkk!!”

He continues to thrust into you as he reaches his peak, filling you up completely, and you both are a panting mess as you both start coming down from your orgasms.

Harry flops onto your chest, but holding himself up with his forearms on your sides. You giggle as you can still feel his dick inside of you, but you wrap your arms around his neck.

He lifts his head, panting, and eyes glistening. He smiles at you, bunny teeth showing, and dimples carving his cheeks.

“That was…” he stops as if he can’t even find the words, but who are you kidding? You can’t either.

“It was,” you agree as you kiss his forehead.

“That was very much long overdue,” he states with a teasing grin and you playfully pinch his forearm. He laughs into your neck before giving you a soft kiss.

“How long are you here for?” You ask, not really wanting to ask, but you know you should.

“I’m here as long as you are.”

You furr your eyebrows in confusion, lips parting with a question, and he shushes you.

“I’m not letting you leave my sight ever again.”

He places a million kisses over your face, you swat him away with giggles, and then hold his face in your hands. Eyes locking.

“Does this mean we’re boyfriend and girlfriend?” You tease.

“Shit, I’d marry you tomorrow if you’d let me.”

Your eyes glint with amusement and so do his.

“Who says I wouldn’t?” You whisper at him, playing with his curls in your fingers. And he attacks you with another million kisses.

You could get used to this.

And you think you just might.

“So, where’s that secret birthmark of yours?”

@that-daydream-look @harrysfolklore @b-reads-things @tbslnightly @noseyrosey1597 @alwayslovingharry @alreadyjackbestfriend @cevansssss @1cedteaa @feestyles @you-sunshine @awesomebooklover17 @aruima

#harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles smut #harry styles x y/n smut #harry styles x famous!reader #Harry styles x fashion designer!Y/N #harry styles writing #harry styles au #harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic

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jadedxhearts · 4 months

Text

𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐅𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐬𝐞

You and Law use his devil fruit abilities, but for all the wrong reasons... Plus part two: You decide to get back at Law for teasing you, with a certain request...

Note: This was my most popular fic back on my main account, "Body Swap", now being reposted here for my Most Popular Fics Event, under a new name! Please keep in mind these were some of the earliest smut fics I ever wrote (Almost 2 years ago), so it isn't representative of my current writing abilities. Regardless, I'm glad to see that so many people enjoyed reading them.

Warnings: smut, fem reader, use of Law's heart-swapping ability.

Typically, once you got a good idea, it wouldn’t leave your mind.

Except that you didn’t know if this was exactly a good idea.

You tried ignoring it as much as possible. But how could you?! It was becoming too much for you to handle.

Sitting in the kitchen, you were eating your dinner with a few other crew mates. The others had been trying to talk to you, but you didn’t listen. It wasn’t that you were ignoring them, no. You just had too much on your mind.

“I think (Name)’s sick,” Bepo said, poking at your arm, but you kept staring ahead, at nothing. “She’s unresponsive…”

“But definitely conscious. That’s odd,” Ikkaku noted.

“Maybe we should take her to captain,” Penguin suggested. “He’d know what to do!”

“About what?” Law asked, entering the kitchen.

“Oh! Captain, thank goodness, (Name)’s acting weird. We think she may be sick!”

You let out a small gasp, face turning red at Law’s voice

“Is she choking?!” Shachi yelled.

Law took a look at you. The answer was clearly no. You almost seemed embarrassed. But about what?

“(Name)-ya.”

Your eyes widened a little, and you turned to look at your boyfriend. “Law…”

“Come on, let me have a look at you,” he motioned for you to get up and follow him.

You followed Law through the halls of the submarine, all the way down to his bedroom. He sat you down on the bed before closing the door, and crossing his arms.

“What’s wrong with you?” He asked.

“Umm… nothing,” you lied.

“Nothing?”

The two of you stared at each other, Law waiting for you to break.

“Ok! Fine. I just… had something on my mind and was very distracted.”

Law raised an eyebrow, not looking very amused. “Distracted?”

“Yeah… um. Got a lot on my mind, y’know…”

“Then tell me what’s on your mind. What could possibly be so distracting that you weren’t even acknowledging everyone around you… ah. But then I walked in.”

Your face went red again.

“You were thinking about me.” He said. “How am I that distracting?”

“Oh, well. Um… I just… had an idea,” you mumbled, looking down.

Law moved closer to you, standing inches away from you now. “An idea?”

You were too embarrassed. It was stupid and he’d never agree to it. But quietly, as though you were genuinely afraid of saying it, you told him your idea.

Then Law’s face turned a little red.

“See, it’s a horrible idea. But I can’t stop thinking about it,” you whined. “Sorry…”

“No. It’s not horrible, just… a bit out there.”

Was he seriously about to agree?!

“We can try it,” he told you. “Since you can’t stop thinking about it. Lay down.”

You laid back against the soft pillows, crossing your hands and waiting for him to make the next move.

Law slid his shirt off, and grabbed kikoku from where it leaned against his desk, walking back over to you.

“Undress at least a little, to make it easier,” he said, standing beside you now.

You slid your shorts off and removed the top you had on off, leaving you in just your rather cute set of undergarments.

Law moved to get on top of you, sitting on his knees, around your legs.

“…you sure about this?” He hesitated.

“We’re already here, aren’t we?” You asked.

Deciding to just get it over with and wanting this over as soon as possible, Law created a room.

He slid the katana out of its case, and closed his eyes.

“Just do it! Before I freak out and back out!” You yelled.

“Ugh. Shambles,” he said as he did a thrusting motion toward your body, then back at himself.

You felt oddly dizzy, and suddenly…

You were now in Law’s spot, holding the katana exactly how he had been seconds ago. Except that you were still underneath him…. But it was just your body.

Now you were panicking. This was a bad idea, why did you even think of it in the first place?!

Looking down, you saw that you were Law… and he was you. Your eyes widened, and you opened your mouth as if you were about to scream. But before you could get more than a “Ah!” out, your (Law’s?) hand was covering your mouth.

“Let’s get this over with, I don’t like looking at myself like this…” he said.

Sliding kikoku back into its case and setting it aside, you slid a hand onto your chest, not being used to how… er, flat… it was. “Woah,” you muttered.

“Stop that! It’s weird!” Law snapped.

“No, this is so weird! I’m so used to.. uh… having boobs.”

Law then rolled his eyes, but… he didn’t want to admit that he was also curious. He looked down at your chest.

“Try it,” you said, taking his hands and placing them on your body’s chest. “This is crazy.”

Law wanted to yell at you for forcing him to grab your boobs, but… it was rather fascinating.

“I get to live like that, all day every day,” you said. “Wait…”

Then you slapped his hands out of the way and grabbed your own boobs, squeezing. “This is awesome,” you giggled.

“Quit making it weird!” He yelled.

“Okay, okay. Sorry,” you said, removing your hands. “So…”

“Did you forget how to take off your clothes?” He asked, watching you just sit there.

“N-no! I’ve just never done it from this point of view before!”

You carefully took off Law’s signature jeans. Then, you looked down at yourself. Feeling unsure, you pulled off your panties.

Then you screamed, fully this time, seeing your own pussy. “What the hell! It looks like that?!” You cried.

“(Name)! Stop that shit, you’re making this way less sexy than you made it sound!”

Curiously, you reached out and poked at your clit, and Law hissed, eyes widening. Then you slid a finger down the slit, feeling how wet it was. “Aw, you’re wet for me,” you giggled.

You inserted a tattooed finger into your cunt, feeling the ridges along the walls of your hole. Law let out a small moan, face red in embarrassment.

Adding another finger, you fully began fingering your cunt. Law’s hands flew up to grab at your wrist, stopping you. He was breathing heavily and your body’s legs were twitching.

“Stop. It’s too much,” he panted.

“Oh, is it?” You asked. “It’s too much for you but I take it for hours and hours, begging for more every time. You’re such a baby, Law.”

You pulled your hand away, and then pulled his cock out. You stared at it in awe, feeling like your mind was gonna explode.

“This is so weird!” You exclaimed. “This is how it feels to have a boner?!”

“(Name)-ya, just get on with it already,” Law sighed.

“Fine, fine,” you said. Awkwardly trying to line his cock up with your cunt. You teased him by rubbing against it but not sliding in.

“Sure you’ll be able to handle it?” You asked. “You couldn’t even take fifteen seconds of me fingering you.”

“I don’t care anymore,” Law huffed.

“Alright. But don’t act all mad when you can’t do it.”

When the last word left your mouth, you slid his cock into your throbbing cunt, and grabbed onto your hips.

You moaned a little, loving how you squeezed his cock.

Law tried covering his face and biting onto one of your hands to stop himself from moaning.

You tried thrusting, unsure of how exactly you were supposed to do so… since you’d always been on the receiving end. And it wasn’t like you were always watching Law’s hips and studying how it was done.

As you got the hang of it, Law could no longer hide his moans. You could feel your cunt throbbing more, your legs wrapping around his and squeezing you. You tried going faster, and moaned at the sensation.

“Mmm, moan louder, Law. I wanna hear you cry like a little whore,” you said, leaning down to suck on your own breast.

Taking the nipple in your mouth and harshly sucking, Law let out the most lewd moan you’d ever heard from him. You stumbled in your movements, hips twitching at the sound. “Law, I’m close…”

“You better not- ugh- get yourself pregnant,” he muttered in between moans.

“Mmm, but that would be so hot, you getting to feel the way I do when you stuff me with cum. Oh!” you gripped harder at your hips and shoved his cock deep into your cunt, unloading into yourself with a loud moan.

Law yelped, squeezing his eyes shut as he too came, but through your body. You collapsed onto him, still buried inside your cunt.

“How’d it feel?” You asked, a smirk on your face.

“Now I almost feel sorry for you,” he panted. “You take way more than that when I fuck you…”

“Hmm, well, how about next time I make you suck your own cock?” You suggested with a giggle.

“There will not be a next time,” he huffed.

“Aww, but this was so fun,” you whined. “In fact, I wanna stay here… you feel so nice and warm around my cock.”

“Your cock?” He glared at you. He wasn’t actually angry but it was incredibly embarrassing to let you take control like this, and now you were getting cocky.

“Sorry,” you said. “But now I see why you never let me go after one round.”

“Okay, whatever. Change us back. Now.”

Sighing defeatedly, you sat back up and slid his cock away from your cunt, watching his seed spill out. His cock twitched again.

“Umm… how do I do that?” You asked.

Law rolled his eyes. “You should know, you watched me do it.”

“But I’ve still never done it myself!”

“You take the katana and say ‘room’, then thrust it at our bodies and say ‘shambles’,” he instructed.

“Okay…” you took the katana into your hand and did as he said.

And suddenly… now you were underneath him, back in your own body.

“That was easy,” you giggled, trying to get up so you could put your clothes back on.

But Law pushed you back down. “You think I’m letting you get away with that, you little demon?”

Boy, were you in for a punishment…

｡ ₊°༺❤︎༻°₊ ｡

When the idea returned to you, it came at a rather convenient time.

You’d thought about it since that evening, sure. But you were unsure if Law would ever agree to doing it again, so eventually… it slipped your mind.

But then now, you simply couldn’t get it off your mind.

You’d been laying in bed with Law, both of you unable to sleep that particular night. He’d been reading a book, an arm wrapped around you, holding you close to his bare tattooed chest.

He’d been teasing you all day, and now all evening. Throwing you suggestive smirks or subtly winking at you throughout the day, lingering touches, and at one point he’d even smacked your ass as you headed out of a room. Now, his hand that was around you was pinching at your nipple through your tight tank top, and every time you’d whimper he’d let out a faint chuckle, making you even more frustrated.

You couldn’t take it anymore, so you slipped a hand down to your panties, sliding it under and began slowly stroking your folds with one finger, trying to get yourself wet enough to finger yourself.

You thought about that evening. The way Law moaned like a little slut, whining about how it was too much for him to handle when you’d barely touched him (you?).

You moved your finger up just a little to your clit, and began rubbing at the bud of nerves. You let out a soft whine, rolling over just a little, still in Law’s hold.

Surely he’d noticed. He was in no way oblivious to anything. You looked back at him, seeing his cocky smirk on his face. He glanced at you, making eye contact for just a second, before looking back to his book.

Feeling wet enough, you slid two fingers inside yourself, letting out the most lewd, cute moan you possibly could, trying to get Law’s attention.

But he didn’t move.

So you kept your fingers moving, sliding them inside yourself and rubbing your fingertips along your tight walls. Law pinched your nipple again, this time much harder than he was before. You let out another whimper, frustrated that that was all he would do to you, when you wanted so much more.

“Law, please,” you whined.

“What, (Name)-ya?” He was pretending to not notice.

“Law, I need you.”

“For what?” He taunted.

“To satisfy me! You wouldn’t make your girlfriend do it all herself, would you? Leave me all helpless and fingering myself, when I really want you.”

“I wouldn’t put it past me,” he replied.

“Ugh! Law, come on! You’ve been teasing me all day,” you yelled, sliding your fingers out of yourself and moving to sit up, facing him.

“Do something about it, then,” he told you, looking back to his book.

“Fine,” you muttered. Without hesitating, you moved your hand that you’d just been pleasuring yourself with up to his mouth, forcing your still wet fingers inside.

His eyes went wide and he tried cursing at you, but it all sounded muffled due to your fingers. When he shut up and began licking your fingers, sliding his tongue around and down them, lapping up your juices, you nearly came right then and there, letting out a moan at the sight and feeling.

You pulled away after a moment, and when you did you replaced your hand with your lips, kissing him and tasting yourself mixed with his spit.

“That was so hot, Law,” you mumbled against his lips.

“Really?” He set his book aside and put a hand against your head, deepening the kiss.

“Mhm.”

Your legs were trembling as you kneeled on top of him, the dirty sounds of your mouths going straight to your cunt and making you feel like you could cum without any physical touch to it.

You pulled away, grabbing his shoulders to stabilize yourself. “Law, I know you’ll probably punish me again, but I want to try swapping bodies again.”

“Shit, (Name). Don’t you know how…” he trailed off, looking away from you.

“Embarrassing that was? For you? I do, and I would kill to see that again. When I was fingering myself, that was all I could think about, your little whimpers and moans-“

“Alright, stop. I’ll do it,” he said to shut you up.

You let out a delighted hum, removing yourself from his lap and happily getting up to grab kikoku. When you returned to him, you basically shoved the katana into his hand and eagerly waited for him to switch you two.

“Room.”

Your smile grew bigger, unable to contain your excitement.

“Shambles.”

And in a blink, you were now where Law had been laying, holding the katana in your right hand.

Law was on his (or your? You still didn’t know exactly how to refer to this). knees, just as you had been seconds before.

You put kikoku away, and didn’t hesitate for a second to rip the sweatpants Law had on off.

“Remember what I said last time?” You asked him.

He clearly looked unnerved at seeing your voice come from his mouth, but he nodded slowly.

“Tell me,” you said.

Law let out a sigh, looking down. “You said… you wanted me to suck my own cock.”

You giggled, moving to hold his face between your hands, gently squishing your face’s cheeks together. “That’s right, my little whore.”

You placed a kiss on your own lips, and then laid back, taking his cock in your hand and stroking yourself.

“Now come do it,” you told him.

Law slowly moved to get between his own legs, and you could tell he felt absolutely humiliated right now.

“(Name)… I don’t know how to do this.”

“Never sucked dick before?” You teased. “Maybe my body will just naturally know how, I do it for you all the time, after all.”

But he didn’t look reassured.

“Just take a little at a time and breathe through your nose,” you said, patting him on the head.

Hesitantly, Law poked his tongue out and took a small lick at himself.

“Don’t know why I thought there’d be much of a taste…” he mumbled.

“Well you lick my skin, don’t you? It should be like that.”

“I suppose so.” With that he took just the smallest bit of the top into his mouth. He gently sucked, and you let out a loud moan.

“Jeez, (Name). I barely did anything.”

“I know… but I’ve never felt anything like that before.”

“Oh, so now you’re the one who can’t handle it?” He mocked you, grinning. “Then I’ll make you cry like a little bitch.”

Now, he took as much in as he possibly could (for someone who’d never done this before), and licked and sucked with no remorse.

You cried out, twisting his hands into your hair and trying to shove him on deeper without hurting him.

“Law, Law! Feels so good,” you whined.

Feeling confident at his regain of control, Law took his own cock all the way, deepthroating himself at this point. He bobbed his head up and down, trying to mimic your movements from the many times when he’d watched you do this.

“Law, I’m gonna-“

He pulled away without warning, and you groaned in frustration.

“What? Too scared to taste your own cum?!” You asked, slightly upset.

“That’s fucking disgusting,” he said. “It’s not happening.”

“Ugh, I hate you,” you fell back into the pillows, crossing your arms.

Law simply chuckled, and you could feel him moving. But you were still mad, so you didn’t look down at him.

Suddenly, you felt his cock wrapped in something warm… but this wasn’t like when you’d fucked yourself…

Curious, you sat up again and looked down to see what he was doing.

You were surprised to find your own breasts wrapped around his cock, Law trying to move your upper body up and down along his shaft.

“Fuck- Law.”

With each movement up, you felt him just barely take the tip into his mouth, licking at it.

It wasn’t long before you felt like cumming again. His hands resumed their positions within your own hair, and you cried as his body shook, cumming all over your chest, and a little bit onto your face.

Law pulled away, staring down at himself and seeing the cum covering him.

“Now you know how that feels,” you muttered, trying to catch your breath.

Law was curious, and through half-lidded eyes, you watched him take a finger up to your breasts and swipe some of his seed away. He lifted it just in front of your face, staring at it. He wanted a taste, that dirty bastard.

“No, let me do it!” You protested, smacking his hand away and wiping his cum onto your fingers. You desperately wanted to feel him suck on your fingers again.

Instead of forcing yourself in this time, you held a tattooed hand up in front of him, waiting for him to take the fingers into his mouth when he was ready.

It took him a moment, but Law eventually tasted himself, taking a small lick off your finger at first.

“Hmm.”

“Doesn’t it taste good? It’s ‘cause you’re a nice clean man, you know.” You giggled.

Law shot you a confused look, and you giggled some more.

“Want more?”

He hesitated, but ended up taking his fingers into your mouth once again, and you moaned as the feeling you loved so much returned to you. Even though this time it looked like yourself doing it, it was just so hot to watch Law suck on your fingers.

By the time he was done, his cock was hardened again and you were ready to go for another round.

“Should I eat myself out, finger you, or just fuck you right now?” You asked, a menacing grin on your face.

“You deserve to be forced down between your own legs and eat yourself out like a dirty slut,” he responded. “But-“

“You wouldn’t be able to handle that, would you, Law?”

“Shut up.” He muttered.

“Well, okay. How about I just get you all wet, and fuck you? Does that sound ok?”

“Fine.”

So, you slid your panties off your body, leaving him fully nude within your body. Normally, you’d never be turned on to the sight of seeing yourself like this, but knowing that it was really Law in there, you felt very good about it.

You took Law’s left hand and rubbed your clit for a couple minutes, knowing it was the fastest way to get yourself wet. But Law was not used to such a feeling, and he began whining and moaning as soon as you touched it.

“(Name)-ya, please…”

You wanted to moan yourself, loving the way he moaned your name. It was so pathetic and cute.

“(Name)!”

“Okay,” you said, pulling his hand away. “It’s too much for you, I understand. But now…”

You pushed him down onto his back, and pulled your own legs over his shoulders. You felt even more turned on, knowing he was going to feel the sting in your legs as you bent and pushed them while you fucked him.

You took his cock into your hand, and lined it up with your soaked cunt.

“If it’s too much, squeeze my thigh, okay?”

“Whatever,” he grumbled. He clearly hated the position he was in.

And then, you slid into yourself, welcoming the feeling of your walls squeezing down and throbbing on his cock. It was a feeling you’d never get tired of.

You let Law get adjusted for a moment, and then began slamming in and out, the position he was in allowing you to go even deeper than you had last time.

“Mmm, so tight, Law. You’re such a good little slut,” you whimpered.

He moaned and cried, grabbing onto his own arms, unable to get a grip on himself. It was so pleasing to watch, the way his eyes were screwed shut, his mouth wide open as he moaned your name over and over again.

“Fuck, Law, I’m gonna cum again!” You cried.

“(Name)-ya, please… shit.”

You thrusted as deep as you possibly could, feeling your cunt clamp down on his cock and squeezing you so perfectly.

“Fuck, Law!”

Your hips trembled as you came, deep inside of yourself. You kept thrusting, fucking his cum all the way into yourself.

“(Name)-ya, I-“

You felt as your walls squeezed even harder, and Law came around his own cock. As you slowed your thrusts, you could see the mixed cum around his cock, and you couldn’t help but cum just a little bit more, within your own cunt again.

You pulled out, falling back onto the pillows.

“Switch us, now,” Law demanded.

As soon as you regained your breath, you grabbed the katana and did exactly as you had last time.

And then you were now laying on your back, feeling filled up and sensitive. You’d fucked yourself pretty good.

While you were laying back, you had your eyes closed. You had to regain your breath again, being in a different, more fucked-out body.

You hadn’t noticed when Law’s head was pushed down between your legs, his tongue sliding within your folds.

You screamed at the contact, jumping a little and squashing his head with your thighs.

After a moment, Law began smacking your thigh, demanding for you to let go of his head.

When you did, you saw that he was licking up the mixed cum, and then he was crawling on top of you, pushing your mouth open and shoving his tongue into your mouth.

He was feeding you his own cum.

You swallowed it all, sucking it off his tongue and licking within his mouth along his teeth and lips, making sure there wasn’t a drop left.

“Law, that’s so fucking disgusting. Do it again,” you told him.

“No, I figured I’d leave some in there. Maybe this time you’ll get yourself pregnant, hm?”

Your cunt throbbed again. “Fuck, Law! Don’t say shit like that, you asshole!”

He chuckled and put his pants back on, going back to laying in bed with his book.

“You’re not gonna help me?” You whined.

“Fine, if you insist, (name)-ya.”

He took a cloth and wiped up whatever cum had spilled out of your cunt, along with the older cum on your chest and slid your panties back onto you, before handing your tank top back over.

“Better?” Law asked.

“Mhm. Now cuddle me,” you requested.

Law lifted his arm up, and you laid down, head on his chest. His arm fell down around you, and it wasn’t long before you fell asleep to the sound of his heart beating.

#trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x you #trafalgar law x y/n #law x reader smut #law x reader #law x y/n #law x you #trafalgar d water law x y/n #trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar d water law x you #trafalgar d law x reader

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jazzthatonewriterchick · 11 months

Text

Drunk N Nasty (poly!Pro!Bakusquad x Black!Fem!Reader 18+ One Shot)

Pairing: poly!Bakusquad x Black!Fem!Reader

Synopsis: In which you and Mina get tired of your boring ass boyfriends not making time for their girlfriends, so you two decide to hit the club for a night out with every intention of getting under your boyfriends’ skin. Fortunately for you, it works and your men decide to teach you and Mina a lesson about being some disobedient brats.

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Aged Up!Bakusquad (they’re all in their late 20s); Black-coded!Reader (but anyone can still read this); Alcohol/Marijuana Consumption; Dubcon; Groping; Thigh Grinding; Dry Humping; Spitting; Girl on Girl; Mutual Oral; Edge Play; Bondage/Tape Play; Shock/Electro Play; Drunk Sex; Daddy Kink; some DDLG; Spanking; Choking; Hair-pulling; Facefucking; UNPROTECTED PIV Sex; Degradation; Multiple Creampies; Facials; Some Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: I was DEEP down the Bakusquad hole one night like I was fucking Alice & decided to write this since it’s been at the back of my head for a couple of weeks. This one is NASTY. Enjoy! -Jazz

Read on AO3 here!

***********

“They’ve been starin’ at us all night, ya know.”

Mina sits next to you on the little leather lounge couch situated at the back of the club near the bar which has started to trickle down with activity. You and Mina have been here for over an hour, so the buzz of the night is starting to die down a bit, but the dance floor is packed and the drinks are still flowing.

And the eyes are still staring. A pair of two in particular that you can see piercing at you and your girlfriend from across the way. The two smoldering pairs of eyes belong to two very attractive men dressed in their best designer. They each have features that stand out to you as intriguing: the tallest one sitting on the right has long, black hair you bet is soft to the touch while the one on the left has arms roped in tattoos and lip piercings.

They are both hot. That much is clear. And their alluring, lustful stares are definitely piping you up as you sit nice and pretty with your girlfriend, a second fruity cocktail in your hand that will soon turn into a third. But though they are hot, you know four other men that are way hotter and that you would rather be here with you and Mina tonight.

But noooo, they’re just too damn busy to make time for their pretty girlfriends.

You mean towards Mina, dipping low to speak into her ear over the music blasting from the speakers overhead. “They can stare all they want,” you retort. “I’m way more interested in the four idiots that aren’t here right now.”

Mina scoffs, sipping on her second tequila sunrise of the night. You both love your girly drinks. “Waiting on them to come?” she chuckles, the flashing club lights making her ink-black eyes gleam. You flush in your mini dress, feeling hot despite the AC blasting and the exposed skin your little get-up provides. “You’ll be waiting a loooong time then, baby girl,” Mina scoffs, crossing her smooth, muscular legs over one another. “You know they’re at that meeting tonight discussing business or whatever.”

She rolls her eyes, ever the brat of your relationship. But you’re not exactly the opposite though. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t pissed that your boyfriends aren’t here, buying you and Mina all of the pretty drinks you want, giving you those lustful stares on the dance floor, and hyping you up in your outfits.

You made sure to look hotter than hot tonight. Like hot enough to make a man nut in his pants as soon as he sees you. You had raided your closet and pulled out a short, backless mini dress that made your legs look longer and showed off the curve of your spine sliding down towards your ass where a rhinestone G-string snugly sits below your stomach and in your ass crack.

You love, love, love this dress–how beautiful the pink fabric looks against your skin; how sexy it makes you feel. Not to mention how the hem of it barely covers your ass. If you are to bend over right now, everyone would get a good view of your ass that looks even plumper from the sparkly G-string.

The dress is one of your boys’ favorites. They’ve torn it off of you many, many times before. Combined with your heeled sandals, fresh mani and pedi, the perfume adorning your wrists and the back of your knees, and long braids that caress your back, you feel like a damn vixen.

Mina looks good enough to eat too. She decided on a mesh bodysuit that is skintight against her body and breasts, exposing the black bra she wears underneath, red pumps, and a leather mini skirt that doesn’t do much to cover the bottom of her asscheeks. You’re not sure if she’s wearing any panties, but knowing Mina and her bratty self, she did that for a reason.

She was the one who came up with this little plan to rile your busy pro boyfriends’ up. One hot afternoon while lounging by your pool at your shared condo, you two were more than pissed that your boys were still at work after saying they’d be home by two.

“Sorry, babes,” Denki sighed over speakerphone. “Patrol is takin’ much longer than we thought it would, so we’re still out here in the street. It’s hot as a bitch out here too.” You could hear the frustrations in his usually-upbeat tone as he gave you and Mina the rundown.

“Well, you could just leave early, can’t you?” you ask. “Aren’t there other pros working besides you, Sero, Kiri, and ‘Suki?”

You hear Sero make a “tsk” sound into the phone. “We wish we could, mama,” he sighs. “Almost everybody called out ‘cause of the heat, so we’re pretty much the only ones workin’ still, but we get a fat bonus out of this.”

“We’d better!” Katsuki hollers in the background. “It’s so hot out here, my fuckin’ balls are sweating. You two brats complainin’ aren’t makin’ things better for me either.”

You and Mina stared at each other in your designer sunglasses, mouths agape and offended. “Hey!” Mina scoffed, taking your phone from you. “It’s not our fault we feel neglected! You four have been blowin’ us off for weeks now to do work!”

And she’s right. The usual attention you and Mina get from your adoring, hot boyfriends has since been dwindling down ever since they started taking on more work at their agency. Now it’s all about work.

You try to get one of them to go out with you for a night in the city? “Sorry, babe, but I’ll be in the office late.”

You want to cuddle? “Baby, I can’t; this paperwork ain’t gonna do itself. Maybe later tonight.”

You want one of them to blow your back out and fucking do something about the ache between your legs? “Don’t you got one of your toys? We can do that later, alright?” That response was from Katsuki a week ago stressing over the whereabouts of a villain committing petty theft all over the city.

This dry spell has been happening for weeks now. And when you say a “dry spell”, you mean that shit. Not only have the boys been blowing you and Mina off for time alone, but the bedroom is dryer than the fucking Sahara desert.

While sex isn’t always between the six of you every single time, you miss it being that way––the connection you all have being together, touching and teasing each other; giving each other pleasure. You miss your favorite men aka your daddies domming you and Mina into submission, taking turns on your bodies and poor little pussies until you’re both aching for release. And more than anything, you miss the aftercare. You miss the cuddle piles; the soft kisses from Kiri and the the mindless touches from Sero; the nuzzles from Denki and the soft humming from a very sleepy Katsuki.

Recently, you and Mina have had to spent time with each other in the bedroom by yourselves without your daddies, if not use your toys. Though your rose toy and vibrator get the job done, toys never compare to physical touch. You need your boys. But they’re just too busy.

So Mina came up with the perfect idea after Katsuki told her to “sit her ass down, watch her mouth, and wait for them to get home” before hanging up and proceeding with their patrol. “We should go out,” she said as you began to put sun tan oil on her muscular back. Her eyes were closed and her face was relaxed.

“What, like, tonight?” you asked, rubbing your hands together once more to heat up the oil. Mina softly moaned as your hands knead into her back muscles, the sounds going straight to your clit. “Why not?” she replied. “Or this weekend. Maybe we can go dancing and meet some guys that’ll give us the attention we’re cravin’.”

She giggled at this, but you could tell she was serious. “I don’t know, Mina,” you hesitantly said, rubbing oil into her shoulders. “Don’t get me wrong; I love the idea of goin’ out to shake my ass and look cute, but without the guys? You know how they feel about other guys checkin’ us out.” You stopped rubbing her down and she looked back at you, concerned. “What if they get mad?” you timidly ask.

You’ve seen the boys mad before and didn’t want to face that wrath…or did you? The idea of riling your daddies up so much that they punished you with enough spanks to make your ass sting and filled your throat up to the point your eyes teared appealed to you more than you’d like to admit.

Mina could tell you were thinking it over and turned over, exposing her gorgeous breasts in her gold bikini top to you. “So what if they get mad?” she scoffed. “They’d better put that aggression into fucking us if that happens. We’ve been trying to get their asses to show us a little attention for weeks, but it’s always about work!”

She sat up, taking your hands in hers. “So if they don’t want to pay attention to us, then we’ll make them pay attention––by wearing our hottest shit and spending time with some dudes that would gladly give us what we want.” She smirked at you, mischief in her eyes. “So what do you say, baby girl? This Saturday?”

All you could do was smile back as an excited flutter formed in your tummy. Now here you were one a hot Saturday night, wearing your sluttiest outfits and getting checked out without your boys here to keep an eye on you. Just like you and Mina planned. “You really think they won’t show up?” you ask, slight disappointment blooming in you. “We posted our pics all over IG, so you know they saw.”

“They probably did,” Mina says, wrapping her glossy, sparkly lips around her straw to sip her cocktail. “If they aren’t tied up at work, that is. Can you imagine them walking in here right now? Katsuki would probably have us bent over this couch.”

You laugh along with her, cackling at your boyfriend’s reaction. “Or Sero would tie us up and drag us out of here,” you giggle. Your eyes then glide up and down your girlfriend’s form in her clothes, your mouth suddenly dry. “You know, you really look so good tonight. I almost don’t even want the boys to have you.”

She giggles, pressing a sticky kiss to your cheek. “Thank you, babe,” she purrs into your ear. “You look absolutely delicious.” Her hand glides down to her ass, squeezing it. “Y’know, I bet those guys over there would say the same thing. Don’t wanna waste this little fit, do you?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the long-haired hottie take a drag of his blunt that suddenly looks very appealing to you. ‘Fuck it,’ you think. You came here to not only rile up your boys, but to also let loose and have some fun. Why stay back here and act like you aren’t interested in these two?

So you stand and take Mina’s hand in yours. “Let’s go and say hi,” you purr. Mina giggles excitedly from beside you, sipping on her drink like it’s justice as you walk her over to the leering duo. Their stares get even more lustful and lecherous as you get closer to them, their eyes gliding over your legs, hips, thighs, and titties jiggling with every step.

You know what they want and there is no way you’re going to give it up to them. You wouldn’t dare ruin your amazing, romantic, poly relationship with Mina and your boys. But the idea of acting up with them enough to ruffle the feathers of your boyfriends makes your heart skip a beat and your pussy leak. You stop in front of them with Mina, smiling down at them. “Are those seats taken?” you ask, a breathless, sexy tone leaking into your voice. You point one manicured finger at the empty spots beside either one of them.

The duo look at the empty seats then at each other before smirking up at you both. “Not at all,” the tattooed one answers. “Please, join us. We’ve been waitin’ on you two all night.” Mina giggles as she sits down next to him while you take a seat next to the long-haired one. “We can tell; you two have been starin’ at us almost all night.”

The tattooed man laughs, flashing his pearly whites at your girlfriend. “Well, it’s not every day you see a pro hero and her pretty friend walk into a club.” At the mention of “friend”, you look at Mina, trying not to laugh at her wobbling lips as she struggles to keep in her giggles.

“Well, you’re in luck then,” you chuckle. “I’m Y/N and of course, you know Mina aka Pinkie.” The long-haired hottie takes short puff of his blunt, making sure to blow it out of your face. “I’m Aki and this here is Kanaki,” he says in a deep, raspy voice that would make any woman’s pussy wet. His friend, Kanaki, gives you a nod. “We just got done some boxing practice and came here for a night out.”

“Oh, you’re boxers?” Mina asks, interested. Kanaki smiles at her, dimples popping in his cheeks. He’s a panty-dropper too. “Best in the business,” he cockily replies. “We come here often for relaxation, but we’ve never seen you two before.”

“Work unfortunately keeps us busy,” Mina explains, “but tonight was a good night for us. We’re just here for a good time.” Kanaki smirks at Aki before turning back to Mina, his intentions pure to you. “So are we,” he rasps, . “I bet we could all have some fun together.”

Aki nods in agreement, taking another puff of his blunt. He sees you watching him and removes the blunt from his lips, a puff of smoke billowing from between his lips. “Want a hit?” he asks. “You smoke?”

“Not often,” you sheepishly reply, “but I’m here to relax so…if you don’t mind…” Aki passes you the blunt without another word and you take a small hit, coughing a bit as the smoke fills your lungs. When you take another short puff, you already feel the weed take effect on you and let the smoke billow from your parted, glossed lips. Aki watches your mouth, hypnotized.

“You ladies want some drinks?” Kanaki asks, already whipping out his wallet. “We’re buying.” You and Mina share an excited look and look at the drink menu before ordering a round of Patron shots with a side of lemon, lime, and salt. You and Mina finish your cocktails before indulging in the shots with Aki and Kanaki, pretending not to notice them staring at your lips when you suck on the lemon and lime slices.

Suddenly, one shot turns into two. Then three. Then four. And then two puffs of Aki’s joint turn into four.

Before you know it, you are absolutely fucking gone. And before you know it, an hour later after meeting the two, you’re on the dance floor with them and Mina, the weed making you feel relaxed and the alcohol making you feel like you could touch the moon. You feel light as a feather, giggly, and bubbly. The world is spinning and slightly blurry, but it also seems beautiful and nice to you. Everything is good. Everyone is sexy.

Especially your girlfriend. She grinds against you now, her body pressed against yours as you rock against each other to “Body Party” by Ciara which seems to make everyone horny. Your hands are under her skirt, grasping her asscheeks and giving Kanaki a flash of her jiggling, pink cheeks that he can’t seem to keep his eyes off of.

Aki is the same. He stands beside you two in the crowd of grinding bodies under the flashing lights, ogling at your bodies grinding against each other. You giggle with Mina’s arms still snaked around your waist, her hips flush against yours as you pull your phone out of your purse. You fumble to tap in your code and open the camera app, but once you do, you raise your phone up towards your girlfriend and your “friends” for the night. “Smile, y’all!” you drunkenly shout. “Smile for the camera!”

You smile at your phone, big and bright. Mina gives your phone the middle finger and a devious smile while Kanaki and Aki barely look at the phone when the flash goes off. You can’t even put your phone away before Mina is all over you again, tossing her arms around your neck. “Gimme a kiss, Y/N,” she whines, puckering her lips at you. Drunk off of her and everything around you, you grip the back of her head and pull her in close for a sloppy, lustful kiss.

You plunge your fingers through her messy, pink girls while she trails her hands down to your ass, gripping it. You moan into her mouth, giving her the opportunity to slip her tongue into it and swirl it with yours. Soft moans and giggles emit between you, floating in the air and to the ears of Kanaki and Aki that have gotten much closer to you and Mina, watching the scene unfolding before them.

Your phone suddenly vibrates and you pull away from a pouty Mina, a string of saliva connected to your bottom lips. “Hold up, I’m getting a call!” you laugh. “I’ll be right back, babe.”

You give Mina a wink before stumbling off of the dance floor, pulling down your skirt in the back as much as you can. You decide to go to the nearest ladies’ room and lean against the wall where the long line is before answering the call. You look down at the caller ID, grinning when you see one of your boyfriends’ names there. With a drunk giggle, you answer. “Hellooo?” you sing into the phone.

“There the fuck you are!” Katsuki huffs with relief. “Where the fuck are you two? We’ve been calling you two all night! Texting you, blowin’ up your phone!” You scowl confusedly at this newfound information. “You have?” you ask, confused.

Briefly, you pull your phone away from your ear and check your missed calls and texts. Sure enough, Katsuki is right: you have two missed calls Kiri, one from Denki, a text from Sero asking if you’re okay, and three calls and a very angry text from Katsuki asking where the fuck you are. “Oh!” you giggle, continuing the call. “Sorry, my ringer is off.”

As you thought, Katsuki is not happy about that at all. “Why the fuck is your ringer off, Y/N?” he growls. “And where are you? It’s loud as fuck in there. I can’t even hear you.”

You put one foot up on the wall, leaning your back flush against the cool tiles. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” you scoff. Katsuki pauses, obviously not believing you just said that. Do you want to die?

But it isn’t Katsuki who speaks this time––it’s Kiri. “Yes, we do,” he replies in a voice you’ve never heard from him before. It sounds like it’s taking everything in him to not reach through the phone and spank you. “Don’t play with us right now, Y/N. Where are you and Mina?”

Your stomach twirls nervously at the undercurrent of anger in Kiri’s voice, but it also causes heat to pool between your legs. Kiri isn’t the type to get worked up so easily, so to see it now is kind of hot. “Well, for your information, shark boy,” you scoff, “my girlfriend and I are at a nice club havin’ nice drinks with these very nice guys we met since you four are too busy for us.” You take a lock of your braids and twirl it around your finger as more word vomit rises to the surface. “Oh, they bought us shots too. And one said he likes my dress.”

“You’re wearin’ that pink one?” Denki asks, sounding excited. You giggle giddily in response, finding humor in his whine. But Katsuki stomps on that giddiness real quick. “Dammit, why’d you have to pull that one out?!” he snaps.

You take the phone away from your ear for a moment, scowling at it. Who the fuck is he yelling at? “Because you four idiots are too busy to take care of us!” you snap right back. “So we’re out here doin’ it ourselves. We’ve been asking you four to spend time with us for weeks, but it’s always, ‘Noooo, Y/N, we’ve got paperwork to finish’. ‘No sex tonight, Mina; we’ve got a meeting tomorrow morning’.”

You lean your foot back down to the ground and cross your arm over your midsection, suddenly feeling cold and small. “We’re just feelin’ neglected,” you weakly say. “We miss our boys.”

The other side of the phone is silent, the boys obviously dumbfounded at the truth in your and Mina’s horrible decision. “Baby, just come home, okay?” Kiri soothingly says. “We can talk about then.” Sero agrees, taking the phone. “Yeah, mama, just relax and we can discuss it at all in private,” he coos. “Here, let me order you two a Lyft and–“

“I don’t want a Lyft,” you shortly reply. “I wanna dance. I wanna have fun. So I’m gonna go now.”

“Wait, Y/N!” Katsuki shouts, but your finger is already hovering over the button to end the call. “Byeeee!” you shriek into the phone before hanging up. The illusion of pride overflows inside of you as you strut back over to the dance floor. ‘I told them,’ you think proudly with a giggle, not even thinking about how you’re going to get your pussy beaten black and blue later for this little charade.

When you shimmy back onto the dance floor, Mina is twirling her lips like it’s no one’s business and holding a new drink. “Ooooh, what’s that?” you ask, pointing at her glass. It is orange and topped with ice and chopped oranges and strawberries, reminding you of a tequila sunrise but better. Mina gives you a deviously sexy look, her gold eyes shimmering. You know exactly what she wants. “Wanna taste it?” she giggles, and you nod, practically salivating for another taste of her.

You let her yank you over to her before she takes a sip of the drink. Instantly, you open your mouth wide and tilt your head back, allowing her to hover her mouth over yours and spit the alcohol and her saliva right into your mouth. You hum appealingly at the taste of her and the fruity drink, the nasty act making you gush in your thong. Kanaki and Aki are close to falling out from the scene. “Fuck!” Aki groans. “Can you do that to me too please?”

Mina turns to the boys, wagging her finger at them. “Mm-mm, sorry,” she giggles. “That’s reserved for my girl.” She wraps an arm around you, pulling you close into her perfume-soaked neck. “And our daddies,” she whispers. “You think they’re mad at us?”

You know for a fact from the phone call that they are livid, but you can’t bring yourself to care too much. The alcohol, the music, and Mina’s lips don’t allow you to. All you want right now is her. You wordlessly lean in to kiss her again, your lips moving sloppily against each other. You both moan into each other’s mouths as your tongues swirl and flick against one another, too drunk to realize that you two are tongue kissing in public.

“God, you two are so fucking hot,” Aki groans from behind you. “I’d kill to touch either of you.”

Mina pulls away, all of her lipgloss gone and somewhere on your mouth. “We know!” she giggles. “Butcha can’t, can they, Y/N?” She winks playfully at you, wrapping her arms securely around your body. “We already belong to someone…well, somebodies.”

You giddily nod, turning to Aki. He has gotten closer, so close than you can see the bulge that has begun to protrude from his pants. “As sexy as you two are?” he scoffs, leering down at you under the strobe lights. “Of course, but they ain’t here, are they?”

“I wouldn’t put money on that, pal,” Kiri replies from behind him. Wait…Kiri?!

You and Minajump like you see a ghost as soon as you lay eyes on the big and buff redheaded hunk. He stands there behind Aki with his inked, muscled arms crossed over his broad chest covered by a black muscle tee. And he doesn’t look the least bit happy. Aki jumps at the sight of him, nearly tripping over his own feet. “Red Riot?!” he asks you and Mina, shocked. “You’re dating Red Riot?!”

You and Mina don’t answer, too flabbergasted at the presence of your boyfriend standing there, looking very disappointed in both of his girls. “So this is where you two headed off to,” he sighs, shaking his head in disapproval. “I knew Denki would recognize the place from your IG stories.” His red eyes tick between the two of you. “You two are in big trouble, you know that, right?”

You and Mina look at each other, faces pale and fear in your eyes. You two are fucked. “K-Kiri, we…” Your mouth runs dry, your tongue too heavy for words. Kiri’s brows raise expectantly.

“You…what?” he asks. “You decided to be two needy little brats and make us worry over you? You wanted to get a rise out of us?” The corner of his pierced lips curl into a crooked, dry smirk. “Well, baby girls, you did.”

Your body is on fire, but not out of excitement. You know damn well you’re going to get an earful about this from all of them, not just your platinum blonde-haired Chihuahua of a boyfriend. “Kiri, we’re sorry,” Mina weakly says, staring up at the redhead through her lashes. Usually, her soft, puppy-dog eyes work, but not this time. “Oh, it ain’t just me you’re gonna have to apologize to, baby girl,” Kiri chuckles darkly. “You’ve also got these three.”

His eyes tick above your heads. Even without turning around, you can sense the presence of your three other boyfriends standing behind you. When you and Mina slowly turn, you’re met with the very ticked-off Katsuki, Sero, and Denki standing behind you, arms crossed over their buff chests and anger radiating off of them in waves.

Oh, shit.

Your eyes widen as Mina grabs your hand, gripping it tightly. You both know you’re fucked. “What’s up, mamis?” Sero snickers, staring down at you and Mina with a dark look. “You look scared.” Denki grins deviously at you, practically licking his chops. “Both of them do,” he giggles. “Like they’re lookin’ at their death.”

Bakugou barely moves except for the slight twitch by his eye––a sign that he is very, very angry. “Not till we get ‘em home,” he growls.

His eyes then tick up to Aki and Kanaki still standing near you, their eyes wide with shock. “Da fuck are you two still standin’ there for, huh?” Bakugou snarls. “They’re ours. Now back the fuck up if you know what’s good for you.” He raises his hand and the crackle of his sweat glistening in his palm is all it takes to send the two men scrambling off.

You and Mina are practically shivering in your boots as your four boyfriends stand over you, the fear of the unknown taking over your bodies. What’s going to happen when they get you home? Are they going to spank your asses until they’re red? Are they going to edge you until you’re both crying and begging for release? Or, even worse, are they just going to do nothing at all? No touching or teasing? Neither one of their thick cocks filling you up?

Katsuki’s crimson eyes flick around the room, noticing the club-goers watching them in awe.

“Let’s get outta here,” he grumbles lowly. “Too many eyes.” Sero gives a nod before raising his elbows and shooting several yards of sticky tape at you and Mina. You girls shriek as the tape sticks to your wrists and ankles, tying them together so movement is near impossible. Before you can protest, Katsuki is hosting you over his shoulder while Kiri scoops Mina up bridal style, much to her dismay.

“Wait!” you shout, batting your fists against Katsuki’s muscular back. “Put me down!” This only gets you a hard smack on the ass that has you gasping and tears stinging in your eyes. It only gets worse as he travels through the club and you catch the wandering eyes of strangers. Some of their phones out, taking pictures and recording, laughing and gossiping. It’s so humiliating. All you want to do is hide under your covers and never come out again.

You’ve never felt more revealed until you’re outside at the valet, the cool air soothing your clammy, hot skin. When you finally get to the sleek, black Range Rover that the boys each share among each other (you have a white one while Mina’s is pink), Katsuki and Kiri finally lower you and Mina down onto the pavement. You don’t bother pulling down your dress, your dignity already ruined.

Katsuki looks like he’s about to blow a damn fuse judging from the vein pulsing in his neck. “Can’t believe you two did this shit,” he angrily growls. “Had me stressin’ at work, blowin’ up your goddamn phone, wondering if you two were okay…only to see that you two brats were flashin’ your pussies for those two extras in there.” You stare down at your shoes, pissed at your boyfriends’ behavior but also at your own. You just wanted some attention is all.

Mina peers up at Katsuki through her black lashes with her ink-black eyes, her lips smudged of her lipgloss. “Katsuki,” she weakly says. Katsuki’s eyes sharpen at his government name being used. “Who?” he growls, crossing his beefy arms over his chest. You and Mina share the same ‘uh-oh’ look, realizing that your man has now switched into fully Daddy Dom mode. You’re sure the other three have done the same. And that is so, so hot.

Mina nervously licks her lips, squeezing her thighs together. “D-Daddy,” she whimpers. “Please, guys, it was all my idea. I wanted to–“

“Shut the fuck up,” Katsuki growls. Mina buttons her lip as he opens the door to the backseat, jutting his chin inside the car. “Get your asses in the car, now.” You and Mina have no choice but to climb into the backseat of the car, getting two harsh smacks on the ass in the process. Denki and Sero get in behind you and position themselves in their seats first before having you and Mina sit in their laps.

When Katsuki and Kiri get in the front seats, Katsuki practically jams his key into the ignition and tails out of the valet like a bat out of hell. He has gotten plenty of tickets before for his driving which becomes exceedingly more reckless when he is pissed. Only now now he is pissed and also horny: a dangerous combination. Kiri turns on the stereo and bumps a City Girls song; one that you particularly like and always gets you dancing.

Denki grips your hips from underneath you, nearly digging his nails into your mini dress.

“Oooh, you two are gonna get it at home,” he growls, a devious edge to his voice. You sit rigidly on top of him, legs closed and hands in your lap. “But before that happens…” You feel his warm hand on your cheek, turning you to face him and those electric, golden eyes. “Now show us exactly what you were doin’ with those two in there, princess,” he hums. “It was pretty good music. I bet you were grinding this pussy all over them on that dance floor, weren’t you?”

His hands slide down your sides to your thighs, squeezing them generously, before using one hand to pry your legs open to reveal your glittery thong. You whimper as his fingers begin to slide up and down the tiny cloth covering above your pussy. “Mmm, so wet already,” he coos to you. “Was that because of those guys or ‘cause you knew we’d fuck you up when you finally got home?”

You don’t answer, not sure how to. Plus, Denki’s fingers rubbing circles around your clit is making it hard to think straight. “Katsuki, turn up the music,” he orders. The platinum-blonde glaringly stares at his golden-haired boyfriend through the rearview mirror. “Don’t tell me what to do,” he growls, but does so anyway. The music is soon bumping through the speakers as Katsuki zooms down the highway, swerving lanes like a madman.

Denki begins to swerve and swirl his hips underneath you, bumping his hard-on against your pussy and ass. “Dance for us, princess,” he demands, taking his hand to give your thigh a smack. He turns to Mina who has her skirt up her thighs, Sero’s hands all over her. “That goes for you too, Pinkie. Show us exactly how hard you got those losers in there.”

You press your lips together disapprovingly. “But they weren’t–“ You’re cut off by a sharp hiss from your lips when Denki grabs your hair, yanking on it. “Is that lip?” he asks, a growl in his voice. Heat pools between your thighs at his switch in character. Usually, though mischievous, Denki is very laid-back, so to see him way out of his element and being so dominant with you is a major turn-on for you. You slowly shake your head and he releases your hair though your scalp stings. “That’s what I thought. Now get to it.”

So you and Mina dance for the men sitting underneath you, your asses twirling and grinding into their laps and hardened cocks underneath their pants. You place your hands firmly on Denki’s knees and your feet on the car floor as you toot your ass up and down for him, shaking it as much as you can in the backseat. The more you dance, the more Denki ogles and grabs, the more turned-on he gets.

“Look at this lil’ dress ridin’ up,” he coos, his hands back under your dress. “I bet it was like that on the dance floor, wasn’t it? And what’s this here?” He roughly pulls you back down to sit on his lap and lifts your dress up high to reveal your sparkly thong. “My favorite thong too?” A deep, aroused growl emits from his throat. “I didn't realize you were wearin’ it, babe. You’re just lookin’ to get fucked, aren’t you?”

He begins to rub circles along your clit again, sending sparks of pleasure deep into your core. Before you can say anything to stop him, his fingers are creeping under your thong to move them aside, revealing your aching, puffy, wet pussy to him, Sero, and Kiri and Katsuki who stare in the rearview mirror. “Denki,” you whimper, your thighs quivering as his fingers ghost over your pussy, teasing you even more.

“You’re wearin’ that glittery shit?” Katsuki rumbles, his knuckles turning white from how tight he’s gripping the wheel. “You’re gonna fuckin’ get it later, I hope you know that.”

“This one ain’t no better,” Sero comments along with Mina’s soft whimpers. You turn, finding his fingers under Mina’s dress. “Just look at this shit!” He cackles as he lifts her dress up to reveal her bare, apple-bottomed, pink ass to the whole car. Kiri turns around now, staring into the backseat. “No panties, babe?” he laughs in awe. “Guess you two were desperate for everyone to know how slutty you are.”

You watch as Sero begins to toy with Mina, pressing his mouth on both of her asscheeks to nibble and kiss at them. Mina wantonly moans, her eyes fluttering closed as her boyfriend’s hands move to her sides, his fingers sliding up and down them. You’re so distracted that you don’t even realize that Denki has removed his hand from your thong to replace them with his knee. His solid knee feels so good on your throbbing pussy and clit, giving you the relief you need as you begin to grind your cunt against his thigh. “Denki,” you whimper. “Please.”

Denki moves his hand to place on your throat, not squeezing but letting you know it’s there. “Please what, princess?” he hums. “Hm? You wanna stop?” You weakly shake your head, words dying in your throat as whimpers and moans bubble to the surface. Denki chuckles and grips your neck harder now, causing you to gasp. “Of course, you don’t, you little slut,” he whispers into your ear. “Of course you like grinding on my thigh like the desperate cumslut you are.”

“Fuck, Sero!” Mina suddenly squeals from beside you. In the haze of your pleasure, you turn, finding Mina with her legs open wide and Sero’s finger curling into her wet pussy. As he slowly fingerfucks her, you can hear how wet Mina’s pussy is, the lewd sounds making you grind harder against Denki’s thigh.

“Fuck!” Katsuki grunts. “I can hear how wet they are. You two brats are lucky I’m driving.” Kiri is just about dying, ogling at the two of you from the passenger’s seat. “God, that’s so hot,” he groans. “I can't wait to get you two home.”

And only when you two get home. Making that clear, Denki forces you to stop by gripping your waist and Sero pauses his fingerfucking to give you both a firm glare. “Don’t cum,” Katsuki orders, staring sharply at both of you girls in the rearview mirror. “Neither one of you. If you cum now, you won’t be able to cum later, understood?”

Though dizzy with pleasure, you and Mina manage to answer him the way he wants to be answered: “Yes, daddy,” you both weakly say, chests heaving, hearts racing, and pussies wet.

When you finally get in the house fifteen minutes later after flying across the city, you barely have any time to get your shoes off before the boys are hustling you and Mina upstairs. At some point, Katsuki throws you over his shoulder and Kiri hikes Mina up in his arms, running up the steps with you girls as you squeal in protest. When you get to your master bedroom, Katsuki kicks the door open and tosses you onto the bed. You shriek as you go flying before hitting the mattress, bouncing a bit as you do.

Mina goes flying too as Kiri tosses her down beside you. You two them lay on your backs, staring up at your four boyfriends looming over your tinier figures, staring down at you almost predator-like. “What should we do with them first?” Denki excitedly asks, lust in his eyes. Katsuki deviously smirks at you and Mina, filling you with dread. “I’ve got just the thing,” he chuckles before glaring down at you girls. “Get on your knees, hands behind your back.”

Sharing a withering look, you and Mina slowly do as Katsuki says. As you sit with your pretty asses facing them in such a submissive position, the four groan at the sight, making you bite your lip in utter anticipation. The throbbing in your pussy only gets worse when Sero reapplies the tape to your ankles and wrists, making it hard to move or escape. You’ve never been this horny before. What is it about pissing your boyfriends off that makes you so damn wet?

Sero then steps back to admire his handiwork. “Now neither one of you can run from us,” he deviously hums. “We can do whatever the fuck we want with you now.” That turns you on even more: to be so helpless under their touches; to be completely at their mercy. Sero runs a finger down your cheek, his touch making you quiver. ”But you wouldn’t run away even if you didn’t have my tape wrapped around your wrists, would you?”

You know the answer: hell no. And Mina knows it too.

“Bend ‘em over,” Katsuki grunts, foreplay be damned. “I need to teach these two greedy sluts a lesson in obedience.” Sero and Kiri do as they are ordered and position you and Mina so you’re both bent over, knees and the soles of your feet dug into the mattress. “Are we being punished?” Mina asks, her voice slightly muffled from the mattress.

You adjust your head slightly to look behind you, finding Katsuki glaring at her from above. He then yanks her skirt over her pink ass before doing the same to you, leaving the thong on. “What the fuck do you think?” he hisses before his hand is colliding with the meat of her ass. A loud whine leaves Mina’s lips and you flinch at the harsh sound of skin colliding with skin.

You don’t have much time to prepare when Katsuki is giving you the same treatment. His hands are rough from years of pro-hero work, so his slaps hurt like hell. They are rough and sting like fire licking across your skin. You gasp and gnaw harshly on your lip to avoid crying out. He continues to do this to both you and Mina, making your asses jiggle and tears spring into your eyes. “Is this what you wanted?” he grunts. “To get punished like this? Make me lose my mind like this?”

You dig your face into the mattress, muffling your screams of pain at merciless spanks. Finally, Kiri tags in, putting a hand on Katsuki’s chest to stop him. “My turn,” he darkly chuckles. “Brace yourself, ladies. You know my hand is heavy.” And boy, is it. Way more than Katsuki’s because of his quirk. His hands are hard and rough, his palms calloused.

And they hurt even worse when they collide with your ass. Adding new, fresh spanks on top of the ones Katsuki already gave you is the worse pain you’ve ever felt. It’s excruciating. You’re so sure that your ass is red despite your skin tone at this point with how harsh Kiri is being.

“Don’t flinch,” he orders. “You wanted this shit, then you’ve got it. All the attention you could ask for. He gives both you and Mina the same treatment, wailing in on your asses like he's trying to get some gold rings out of you. He babbles about how fat your asses are and how they jiggle whenever he smacks them, obviously enjoying how they move.

Then it’s Denki’s turn. Ever the sadist, when he brings his hand down upon you, he makes sure to slip his quirk in too. As his hand collides with your ass, a tiny spark shoots from his palm to your ass straight through your ass. You quiver and shake at the short electrocution, a gasp leaving your lips. “Oops!” he mockingly says. “Guess I let my quirk slip.” Though you can’t see it with your face still in the mattress, you can hear Mina’s shriek and feel her body shivering when Denki gives her the same treatment.

“Fuck, that shiver was so cute,” Kiri groans. “Do that again, Denks.” Denki does so to both you and Mina, giving you two shock after shock. Each one is more intense than the next, making you feel as if you are repeatedly being poked with an electric rod. Then it’s Sero’s turn and though he gives your asses some wet kisses first to soothe the pain, all of that goes to shit when his hands collide with your asscheeks too.

Minutes feel like hours the more hits you take from them, one after the other. Your and Mina’s cries fill the bedroom, bouncing off of the walls for no one to hear. Your ass begins to ache and sting to the point where you’re crying, the comforter wet beneath you. “Please stop!” you tearfully beg. “It hurts!” Mina sniffles beside you, softly crying at the pain.

Though the spanks luckily stop, you feel two rough, thick fingers peel your soaked thong away from your cunt and playing with your pussy, easing some of the fiery stings along your asscheeks. “Your pussy says something completely different,” Katsuki tsks. “Little slut. You still need to be taught a lesson, don’t you?” You then suddenly feel his thick, wet tongue sliding along your wet folds, sucking on your pussy lips and on the sensitive bud of your clit. Your mouth falls open at the feeling, your ass shamelessly arching into his face. “F-Fuck, ‘Suki!” you moan.

You turn your head to look at Mina, finding Kiri kneeling behind her ass, his hands prying her cheeks apart. “Don’t think you don’t get the same treatment, bratty girl,” he teasingly purrs before his mouth is on Mina’s pretty, pink pussy, devouring every inch of it.

Katsuki isn’t at all slow or loving. He eats every single part of your pussy, sucking harshly on the right places and being more gentle yet merciless with the other, more sensitive parts of you. You even feel his finger sliding against the puckered hole of your asshole, making your body quiver from the sheer among of pleasure you’re feeling. The sounds that leave your lips are loud and lewd, bouncing off of the bedroom walls. From beside you, you can hear the sobbing, wet sounds of Kiri licking Mina’s pussy as she moans and whines, her face buried deep into the bed. Katsuki pulls away from your clit momentarily to bark, “Sero, Denki; plug up those other holes of there’s.”

You weakly look up to find Denki and Sero kneeling in front of you and Mina, looking excited and extremely devilish. “Oooh, I love this part,” Denki happily sighs. “I’ve been wantin’ to fuck their throats all night!” He settles in front of Mina, forcing her to look up at him by gripping her hair and hoisting her up onto her forearms. He then yanks down his pants with one hand, revealing his hardened cock protruding from a patch of golden, trimmed curls.

Sero smirks down at you, his hands working his zipper down. “Guess I get you tonight, mami,” he purrs. “No matter. Both of your pretty little throats make me happy either way.” Then his pants are coming off too, revealing a hard, thick cock jumping against his toned lower stomach, the boubous head bubbling with precum. “Open up,” he growls and you have no choice but to do so when Katsuki plunges his tongue inside of your pussy, tongefucking you without warning. As your mouth opens on a long whine, Sero plunges his cock deep into your mouth.

“That’s it, mama,” he groans as his thick cock stretches out your mouth. “Take me deep. Don’t be distracted.” You whine around his length, nearly choking it from how deep it goes until you nearly feel it touch the back of your throat.

“Fuck!” Sero growls, his hand moving to the back of your head to wind your braids around his fist. It becomes even harder to focus when he begins fucking your face, his stomach pressing against your nose again and again as he plunges his dick in and out of your mouth, emitting gargled gasps and muffled whines from you.

While all you smell and taste is Sero, you don’t just feel his thick cock stretching your jaw. The fact that you feel him and Katsuki both fucking your holes makes it so hard to focus on anything. You feel yourself going slack, your limbs growing tired and your jaw aching from Sero repeatedly fucking your throat. “This is what you wanted, right?” he grunts, the black hairs from his mullet in his face. “You just wanted to get fucked like the sweet lil’ slut you are?”

You gargle in response and he removes his cock, now dripping in your saliva, from your mouth. You are awarded air then and gulp down as much as you can, coughing. Sero grips your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “Sorry, mama; I couldn’t hear you,” he chuckles. “Now say it again. Let the guys hear you.”

You can tell without looking that Katsuki, Kiri, and Denki are listening intently to you, waiting for you to say what they already know. Sero squeezes your cheeks together, making it hard to speak, but you manage to do so, your voice soft and weak from your throat being fucked. “Yes, papi,” you answer, peering up at Sero through your lashes. “Your baby girl just wanted to get fucked. We both did.” Mina wines pitifully beside you, proving your statement.

This makes your boys go completely feral. Sero plugs your mouth back with his cock and fucks it like it’s his last time doing so, Denki following suit with Mina’s throat. Katsuki is having a ball behind you, his hands roughly gripping your ass and his tongue flicking along your clit the way you like. “Slutty lil’ bimbo, makin’ me so worried for you,” he growls into your cunt, the vibrations filling your core with pleasure. “All just ‘cause you wanted some dick.” His tongue then plunges deep into your pussy, making you whine around Sero’s cock.

It doesn’t take long for Sero or Denki to cum. You know Sero is close by how hard he starts gripping your hair, nearly yanking the braids out of your scalp. His thrusts are rougher and harder, his abs slamming against your mouth and his heavy balls swinging against your chin. “Gonna cum,” he growls. “Such a good girl takin’ this dick, baby.”

Denki is whining, overly-dramatic mess. His moans are loud and bounce off the walls as he slams his cock deep into Mina’s throat while Kiri continues to eat her out like she’s his last meal. “Gonna cum!” Denki shouts, his head thrown back in ecstasy. “Gonna cum deep down your slutty throat!” Mina whines is response as Kiri nibbles lightly on her pussy lips with his sharp teeth, chuckling at her reactions.

You get no kind of warning when Sero finally floods your mouth with his cum, swearing in Spanish as he does so. There is so much nut that it spills out of your mouth and dribbles down your chin. “Hold it,” he demands as he slips his semi-hard cock out of your mouth. “Lemme see my cum in your mouth, puta.”

You carefully tilt your chin up to hold his cum in your mouth, showing the creamy substance on your tongue. Sero grins down at you proudly. “Good girl,” he coos, pecking your forward. “Now swallow.”

As soon as Denki and Sero cum in your and Mina’s mouth, you know that you’re deep in for a night of punishment. The rest of the things your men do to you and your girlfriend are one torturous yet pleasurable blur that is only heightened by the weed you smoked and the shots of alcohol you threw back earlier at the club. Katsuki and Kiri don’t let you or Mina cum, pulling away when you’re just about to burst all over their faces. “Not yet,” Katsuki growls. “You two sluts don't get to cum until we say so.”

Before you know what’s happening, Sero is repositioning your tired arms up high over your head and laying you down on your back so you’re side by side with Mina. You stare into her inkwell eyes and at her soft, pink lips when you’re both suddenly filled by Katsuki and Kiri at the same time. Kiri and Katsuki switch between you and Mina’s pussies, taking turns filling you and fucking you dumb into the mattress.

Kiri is more loving and slow with his strokes but still all the more merciless. He slings your leg over his broad shoulder and kisses your foot while his cock fills you, stroking the wet, gummy walls of your pussy. “So good,” he groans, his face as red as his hair. “You feel so good around me, baby girl. Keep grippin’ me just like that.” More praise and sweet nothings leave his lips as he pummels you as hard as you want, relishing the broken moans and whines that leave your lips.

Meanwhile, Katsuki is rough, wild, and feral. He fucks you into the bed in a mating press position, his feet on the bed and his dick pummeling into your pussy over and over again. Squelching sounds emit from down below as your juices and flavored lube slip down your asscrack to the bed, making your walls even slipperier and causing Katsuki to have an easier time fucking you silly. His large hand grips your throat and his nose touches yours, making the sex even more intense with him so close. “You like that, slut?” he snarls in your face. “You like me fucking you dumb?”

All you can do is whine in response. Words are meaningless at this point. Katsuki forces you to open your mouth and spits in it in response before swirling his tongue with yours, tasting himself.

While Sero sits against the headboard, lazily stroking his cock to the sights and sounds of his girls, Denki gets right in the mix. His sneaky fingers tweak and tug on your nipples and play with your clit while Kiri and Katsuki continue to plunge deep into your squelching, sobbing, wet pussies over and over again. Every single touch from Denki is twinged with a zap of electricity that sends you farther over the edge, trying to balance that pain and pleasure.

You don’t even realize that you’re drooling until Denki points it out. “Awww, she’s drooling!” he cackles. He leans in close to you despite Katsuki still pounding you into the bed.

His thumb swipes across your bottom lip to catch your saliva and he sucks on his thumb, humming at the taste of you. “Is Bakugou fucking you dumb, slutty girl, hm?” he teasingly asks. "Or am I just fryin’ that pretty brain of yours?” You whine weakly in response, too distracted by Katsuki’s delicious cock bullying your insides.

When Katsuki finally cums inside of you, it’s messy and big. He cums with an uncharacteristic, almost animalistic roar as he spills his nut deep inside of your cunt, his hand still pinning you to the bed. Kiri cums too, a loud moan of Mina’s name leaving his lips as he nuts deep inside of her tight walls. You girls take every ounce of their cum, just as you do when they flip you back over onto your hands and knees.

They don’t allow you to recover or rest. “Sluts don't get to rest,” Katsuki tells you, a dark chuckle in his voice. “They only get what they deserve. And you two bimbos deserve to be fucked until your pussies are mush.”

And he sticks to his word. Each one of them do. When you and Mina are flipped back onto your hands and knees, your men plug up your pretty, wet holes again. Katsuki and Kiri fuck your throats while Denki and Sero kneel behind you, plunging their cocks deep inside of your pussies to fuck you doggystyle.

You get Denki this time and shit, are you in for it. The man makes sure you fuck you stupid, his foot on the bed and hands grappling your tits to zap your poor little nipples. He even dips under your thighs to rub your clit, his fingertips pulsing with electricity. It has you whimpering and shivering as the short currents of electricity course through you.

When he finally cums inside of you, you’re just about done and filled to the brim, but then Kiri takes you. He has you lay down on your stomach and fucks you prone bone style. “Don't do anything, baby,” he coos as his cock strokes your sensitive, gushy walls. “Just lemme do all the work, m’kay? Be a good girl and take me.”

And you do. You don’t have much of a choice. You can only lie there and let Kiri fuck your body like his own personal fleshlight, his thick cock sliding against your G-spot. Your body is tired and your pussy is screaming for release, but Kiri doesn’t let you cum. Neither of them let Mina cum either. She is spread out against the headboard, Denki’s face in her pussy while Katsuki and Sero have their cocks in her face, taking turns sliding them in and out of her wet mouth.

When Kiri cums, it is just as messy and explosive as Katsuki’s nut is. He grips your hips and pins you down to the bed as his big body tenses above you, pleasure coursing through his veins. “Fuck!” he whines, the sound nearly pushing you over the edge. “Such a good girl!” And like a good girl, you take every ounce of his cum pumping inside of you, groaning softly as you feel it slide down your thighs.

“Goddammit, please, daddies!” Mina sobs. “Please just let us cum!” She is only met with callused laughter from the guys, humored at her pain. “You cum when we say so,” Katsuki growls. “Now shut the fuck up and get on your fuckin’ knees for us so you can have your treat.”

Mina does as she is told, sliding onto her knees on the bed in front of you. You barely know what’s happening, too exhausted and dazed to realize it. When you suddenly feel Mina’s tongue sliding against your cum-covered, fucked-silly pussy, her hands prying your legs apart, your soul just about leaves your body. “N-No,” you weakly protest. “No, please…t-too much! Please, daddies, stop!”

Your sobs and pleas of mercy fall on deaf ears as Katsuki, Kiri, and Sero surround you once more, their hard cocks and gorgeous bodies in your face. Denki situates himself behind Mina and slides inside of her as she eats you out. He doesn’t take his time or let her adjust first before fucking deep into her, his stomach slamming against her ass and his fingers tweaking her nipples, emitting screams and wails from her as she greedily eats your cunt.

“Shut up and open your mouth,” Katsuki cooly says. “Or you don’t cum at all tonight. Believe me, baby: you know we’ll do it.”

That threat is worse than death to you at this point, so you open your mouth and let the trio fuck your throat raw and yank on your braids. They start to morph into one the more you endure, each cock becoming more of the same one. You’re losing it, the combination of pain and pleasure fogging your brain and making reality nothing more than an illusion.

“Such a good little toy for us,” Kiri coos, watching you take Katsuki’s cock with awe, his hand pumping his own in time with his boyfriend’s thrusts. Sero does the same, stroking his dick right next to your face. “Does our little girl wanna cum?” he teases. “You wanna cum all over Mina’s face while she creams on Denki’s dick?”

You lazily nod with tears pricking your eyes despite Katsuki’s cock in your throat while Mina eagerly moans in agreement, her tongue slashing your clit again and again. You can feel your body getting closer to that release. You don’t know what you’ll do if they deny your release again.

Fortunately, that doesn’t happen. To your shock and relief, Katsuki pulls his cock out of your mouth and pumps it right in your face, his hand working himself furiously. “Cum for us, slut,” he demands. “Both of you. Do it now before I change my mind.”

‘Finally,’ you think. You sob in delirious happiness while Mina babbles grateful thanks into your cunt. “Thank you, daddies!” she whines as Denki fucks her harder. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

You swear that when you cum, it’s an out-of-body experience. Your soul practically leaves you and sees heaven when the pleasure washes over you, plunging you into a sea of bliss. Your orgasm rips through you at the same time as Mina, your moans and screams of release filling the bedroom.

When you burst all over Mina’s face, she eagerly and hungrily cleans you up, sucking on your inner thighs and sliding her tongue down your asscrack to catch the rest of your cum. When she picks up her head to stare at you from between your thighs, her mouth is coated in your juices, making her lips shine with you. “God, that’s so hot!” Denki pitifully whines. “I’m gonna cum so hard!”

“Not inside of her, Denks,” Kiri warns, his teeth gritted as his orgasm begins to rise. “Do it on her face. Come over here and help us coat their pretty faces.” Denki doesn’t need to be told twice. He slides out of Mina and practically tosses her beside you, forcing your faces to tilt up at them.

Just as they like, you stick your tongues out and keep your eyes on them and their cocks, hypnotized at how fast their hands pump their cocks. Just for their girls. Their grunts and moans fill the air, making your sensitive pussies throb despite just cumming, signaling that they’re close. “This is what you get,” Katsuki grunts. “This is what you get for bein’ brats.”

You and Mina get the point when your men finally cum all over you. You get no warning, but even if you did, you would still be surprised at how much there is. Their cum is explosive and messy, coating your faces, lips, tits, and even sliding down your stomaches. Cries and growls of unison fill the air as their nut splashes all over your skin, coating you in their scent and making a very clear statement: ‘You’re ours.’ A delirious laugh bubbles from deep in your chest when their warm cum splashes all over you, the intensity of tonight finally ebbing.

Finally free from the constraints of edge play, you and Mina fall back onto the mattress side by side, exhausted, spent, and still covered in cum. The boys recover above you, breathing raggedly and coated in sweat. “Well,” Sero huffs, “that was something.” Denki laughs from beside him. “I’ll say!”

Kiri tilts his head up to the ceiling, his muscles glistening in perspiration. “I think we’re all in need of a hot bath,” he sighs. “Anybody in for a dip in our whirlpool tub for the night?” The guys hum in agreement. Though you want to agree too, all you can let out is a tiny, weak moan.

“We’re all takin’ a bath,” Katsuki gruffly states, “but before that, I need an answer." You suddenly feel him hover over you, his crimson eyes glaring at you and Mina. “So are you gonna pull that shit again with us?” he asks, his voice dangerously low and daring you to fuck with him.

You and Mina stare at each other, exhaustion written all over your sticky faces. You each turn back to your boyfriends sitting above you and shake your heads. “No, daddies,” you obediently reply. “We promise we won’t.”

The boys grin proudly and each press a wet kiss to your lips in appreciation for your obedience.

But even they know that’s a damn lie, and they look forward to the next time they’ll get to teach you and Mina a lesson.

THE END.

#bnha smut #smutty smut #my works #my fic shit #black writers #black coded reader #black fanfic writer #poly smut #poly bakusquad #bakusquad x black!reader #black reader #18+ one shot #mina x black!reader #mina x fem!reader

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lollipopliccer · 5 months

Text

𝔄 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔣𝔢𝔩𝔱 𝔰𝔪𝔦𝔩𝔢 ❦

❦ warning lollipop chaos ahead! proceed with caution… ❦ light angst , happy ending , ex getō suguru , tattoo artist suguru , set in a tattoo parlour , soft dom geto , praise , cunnilingus , masochism , light sadism & impact play , ig semi public and i guessss office sex

the descriptions of this tattoo experience is not accurate, i dunno shit abt tattoos (even tho i rlly wanna get one). so don't bite my fucking dick off with the technicalities! lets just b happy that i acc posted this hehehe

word count ; 5k ish

black fem reader (still all can read)

lollipopliccer’s love letter ❦ … hiiiii lollipops 🪷 i just wanted to say thank u sm for the love on my debut fic i rlly appreciated it. i’m rlly excited for y’all to read this new one EEEEE. this one was also long as helllll (¬_¬), shit has just been ridiculous in my life rn so sorry abt the delay, i don’t even know y it took me this long just to write 5k ugh anywayyy. i’m excited, cus i always eat up geto tattoo artist head-cannons, mmmm they’re just so mm mm mm tasty. anyway this is my first time writing some angst, i usually stay clear away from any typa angst, i’ve already got enough of that in my life plss haahaa, i don’t even know what possessed me to dip my toe in it, but don’t worry it’s very light. okayy enough of the babble, pls enjoy my fic, and i’d appreciate all ur interaction, reposts, comments, feedback blah blah… mwah mwah mwah ( ੭ ˘ ³˘)੭‎°｡⋆♡‧₊˚

'i'm so excitteedddd' you squeal, as your best friend nobara parks her car, beside the tattoo parlor. you both had been planning your tattoos together for a few weeks now settling on the most beautiful matching heart design on both your bikini lines, whilst individually having unique patterns going through the (tatted) hearts.

"you better not fucking scream when you're actually under the gun" nobara chastises laughing.

"fuck you bitch, you already know i'm bad like that, not even gonna flinch" you taunt, as you both get out of her car.

you decided on wearing a fitted, short black dress, that accentuated your curves and hips but would also be easily manoeuvrable for your tattoo placement. shoko Ieiri your tattoo artist made sure you were comfortable with your design and placement.

underneath your dress, you wore bikini bottoms with side ties, for the same reasons as the dress - paired with some white trainers with pink embellishments. you complete your outfit with jewellery. including your pandora bracelet with silver and pink charms, a necklace, and stud earrings.

you both walk into the parlour, it's decorated all over its dark blue walls with a myriad of paintings, sketches, and different artworks. nobara leads you to the front desk as she had booked the appointment. you're greeted by a raven-haired girl with a short pixie cut.

"hey, are you guys here for your appointment?" she asks, as you notice her name tag- 'maki', and her tattoos and scars peeking through her top.

"yeah, um we had an appointment for 6:30 pm" nobara states, you can see her start to blush at maki.

"cool, yeah i'll check that out for you, umm..." maki responds

nobara so obviously interested in maki, decides to flirt, while you absent-mindedly look at the artwork placed across the shop. it's truly captivating, the deep dark hues and colours, so beautifully drawn, depicting what you could only describe as demons. they were more abstract than the stereotypical depiction, but these works somehow gave more meaning and conveyed more torment.

"so how long have you been working here, maki right?" nobara asks

"yeah, i started some months ago."

"that's cool, i love your tats”

“thank you, i um did some of em myself, nobara right?” maki responds getting nobara’s name from the booked appointment slot

“yeah…” nobara smiles shyly

“…are those your sketches up there? nobara asks, pointing to one of the sketches you've been staring at, there's a familiarity to the work displayed. but you can't put your finger on it.

"no um that's actually from another tattoo artist's, geto." maki answers.

you almost freeze, just from the mention of his name "who?!"

"uhh geto suguru, he owns the place, his artwork is all over these walls" maki responds to you.

a shiver runs up your spine "oh..."

"on that note, i'm sorry for the inconvenience girls, but shoko, your tattooist she had to take our other colleague gojo to the hospital- broke his arm doing some dumb shit. so she won't be able to actually give you your tattoo’s today, however we're able to swap her in for geto suguru, he just got back into town and is just as talented"

"shit" nobara turns to you, already knowing the issue from just his name alone, "yn i had no idea omg, i should've checked better, we can leave"

"nah there'll be no need for that, right yn?" you hear his voice. his silky deep voice, it always had that raspy quality that made your knees go weak. another shiver runs down your spine. you whip around.

"why tf are you here?" you sneer.

"uhh i work here…" he answers deadpan.

you turn back around, after giving him a lethal sneer, "hey um maki is there any other artist today?"

"no, i'm sorry, everyone else is booked." she apologises

"and anyway, it'll be a hassle for you guys if you were to reschedule," geto states

you simply stare at nobara refusing to even glance at him.

"come on yn" geto insists gently, leaning closer to you. your back to him. your name on his lips has you reeling, how softly he calls to you, like no other.

nobara waits for what you want to do, and if you're comfortable being tattooed by your ex in such an intimate area?

"let's get this done", you tell nobara, you turn around to face geto who has that enticing smirk.

as you follow him to his workspace, nobara hangs back reassured that you're comfortable being with your ex. you get the chance to truly take him in since last you saw him. his tattoo’s have grown, as he's painted a whole-sleeved dragon across his left arm, slithering out of his tight-fitted black t. your eyes roam all over his body, soaking in his confident stride, his height, taller than you remember. the way he ties part of his black, luscious hair in the bun is similar but different from the way you remember, leaving the rest of his hair to hang past his shoulders. but his right-hand tattoo is as you remember. a rose’s stem covered in thorns, wrapped around his hand, you can't help but still have your heart swell from that.

as he opens the door for you, you strut past him in silence, he of course responds with an eye roll to your petulance. his workspace is decorated with more of his works, some unfinished, yet so mesmerising you can't look away from them, they seem to depict a greater depth, too intimate for the outer world. the deep hues of dark royal blues, blacks, and green meld together, casting an otherworldly aura. the demons here have this eerie elegance, their features subtly tormenting, evoking such sorrows.

"if you're not comfortable with me tattooing you, we don't have to, i will let you reschedule free of charge-" "i know." you state, without hesitation. and with that, the silence returns as geto smiles slightly, he then grabs his equipment, lining them up, his needle gun, ink, etc.

"why did you insist on me not rescheduling then?" you taunt

"i wouldn't say i instisted" geto defends.

"mmm really? cus i'd even say you implored" you smirk. seeing you smile… he wonders how he could’ve forgotten how magnetic it is.

"i just wanted to see you…”

a pause.

"you broke up with me." you interrupt coldly, both of you are reminded of your separation...

… you begged him to stay. the pain you felt completely consumed you, leaving you empty…

geto holds your gaze. your eyes filled with anger, but also longing. you try to conceal your feelings by turning around.

"yn..." he calls out to you, but you ignore him, seemingly too entranced by a random splotch on the wall, while trying to hold it all in "...yn look at me", geto approached.

you turned around slowly. almost stubbornly, you made sure to look him in his eyes, those deep dark orbs that never failed to suck you into a world of intensity and sensitivity. you both hold each other's gaze, so much said between each other, longing, and regret.

"i am sorry yn, i-" in his attempt to express his apology, you immediately stride past to sit on the tattoo bed, too overwhelmed.

"-right so like from a scale of 1-10, 10 being i'm gonna need to b fucking sedated, how painful is this tat going to be" you ramble, trying to divert the conversation.

you ignore his sigh, as he walks to his chair. he then chooses to focus on preparing his equipment, sterilising them, all that shit. "the tattoo shouldn't be that painful, especially as you requested numbing cream."

"cool" you respond curtly, you follow his actions on focusing on the task at hand, and lift up the side of your dress, to expose the side you were getting tatted on.

when geto looks back he sees your pink bikini bottoms with string ties, he looks away trying to keep his composure "just want you to give me an idea where you want your heart and thorns”.

you clear your throat a little, to try and calm your nerves, “um just around here, i trust your um artistic inclinations. have some freedom with it, i know its kinda simple but i um- the thorns i want them to wrap around, please.”

“of course, yn”

geto trying his best to make this experience as comfortable as possible begins applying the numbing cream. he looks you in your eyes, to see if there were any remaining apprehensions, finding none, the gun comes to life.

“you tell me how you’re feeling throughout this process, if anything feels off with what i am doing, you tell me, do you understand?” geto instructs, his firmness, and apprehension to cause you any unnecessary harm stirs things in you. things you’ve tried repressing, tried to move on from, evidently unsuccessfully.

you nod in response adding a “yes”. and so begins the process, as geto brings needle to skin, his art begins to mark you. the initial twitch of pain you feel is subdued by the numbing cream generously applied. although you can’t help the slight yelp that falls from your lips, which geto catches onto and immediately soothes “shhh it’s okay, the cream will kick in soon won’t feel a thing hun”. his words soothe you, as they always used to, leading you to simply whimper in slight pain. you can’t help but look at him, at how he’s completely focused on your brown skin, that he marks by his hands.

…

as the hours go on, you slowly see geto’s work, his art come together, the red hues of the heart mixing together with slight pinks but also contrasted shades of black, to provide it with such depth, teasing the later depictions of darkness the thorns will add. you are in complete awe of this man, of his work, as you watch him work completely zoned in, despite any dull pain mumbling under the numbing cream.

as your focus lays on him- memories, old feelings of pain, sadness, and confusion begin to bubble again, and you blurt…

“why did you leave?”

a pause…

followed by silence… your demand for answers hanging over you both, while he still remains focused on your tattoo, you remain waiting. you know he heard you.

“i found myself in darkness again, yn, but that time it was even more challenging.. my hallucinations, my night terrors all came back, i was in it deep…” he pauses trying to find his words, and you give him that space “… i knew you were there for me, holding me when i woke up screaming. you stood by me…” he paused

“…however i couldn’t let you do that, i couldn’t bring you there with me. not when i couldn’t wear a heartfelt smile in this world. i needed to find myself again, my purpose. and i know the way i left you, was cold, and confusing, and i am truly sorry, but i had to do it for myself.” as you listen attentively, watching him intently, he slowly gazes at you, pausing his work. your eyes meet with such intensity, such ache, and you start welling up, finally understanding everything, no longer being left with nothing but a cold departure.

“i’m sorry- m’so- ‘m so so sorry geto” tears cascade down your face, geto is quick to wipe them away, softly holding your precious face.

“sshh, ssh baby, don’t be silly mmm, you did nothing wrong, and i’ve been doing better. so much better. finding new channels to express how i feel, what i see.” referring to the intricate art that decorated his walls.

you sniffle, you feel so guilty and ashamed, for the resentment you harboured against him when he was out there trying to fight his way out of such a dark mental space. “they’re beautiful.” you sniffle

“not a day goes by that i don’t think about you, that i don’t regret the way i left. i would’ve come back but i thought you would move on...”

“i didn’t.” you respond

“neither did i.”

with your admissions to one another, a comforting silence fell, filling the room with sweet serenity, and you both found yourselves tethered together once again, holding each other’s gaze, filled with yearning.

you were the first to break, averting your gaze, feeling like it was the first time meeting, how your butterflies bloomed and fluttered, riddled with carnal hunger for him. the paradox of your feelings for him always consumed you, almost driving you mad, only geto could set you so ablaze.

the needle resumed its course, mechanically piercing your skin. both your attentions returned to their original positions.

the only difference being the shift in the atmosphere, the reignition of your feelings for one another, but this time at a tenfold from the time spent apart, wanting no other.

“ahh it’s getting a little sore geto” you whine in slight pain

“sorry yn, we’re moving onto the thorns now, we’ll soon be done, why don’t you take a look at it for me, tell if you don’t like anything?”

as he wipes over the completed heart, filled with colours and dimensions, so deep and beautiful, truly depicting more than you could imagine, it’s medium-sized maintaining a slight cuteness to the art, but still depicts chaos within, which geto clearly understood about you, and so was best to depict it.

“i love it.” you squeal, looking into his eyes, as he looks for reassurance from you. his vibrant smile brightens his face, you hadn’t seen it in so long, and it warmed you.

“good, we’re going to move to the thorns, wrapped down your thigh, why don’t you tell me about your choice of thrones?” geto asked so he could understand your thought process behind the tattoo.

you were apprehensive to reveal your thorns, largely from a place of embarrassment. you didn’t want to show how much he had affected you, and still did, but you did not want to lie to him especially after, he revealed himself so intimately to you.

the thorns, um, i got them from you…” geto halts at this, looking at you in slight confusion “they stemmed from me just wanting to have a piece of you still with me, something that i remembered, that reminded me of you… the thorns, the ones you have on your rose.” in explaining, you feel bold enough to touch the inked rose on his right hand, grazing your fingers over the thorns

suguru can hardly conceal his feelings. “i missed you.” geto states. his dark, sleek eyes told you how he burned for you.

“i missed you too suguru.” you whisper. your feelings flood your body, making you tingly- his intensity holds you in place. you’re both focussed on one another, suguru begins to smile feeling the warmth of your fingers touching him so delicately.

"lets continue your tattoo, i don't wanna fuck it up" suguru states, slowly bringing his hand away from your touch, even though he wanted nothing more than to let you touch him all over. to feel how those pretty acrylics, decorated in bows and charms along his skin, but he didn't want to mess this up, he wanted to tattoo you perfectly.

"okay" you respond, almost dissapointedly. wanting to feel him under your fingertips. you'd settle for now to feel his hands on your thighs, holding them to get his angles right, you were beginning to realise that you wanted more than just to stroke his hand. you want him to mark you all over, with more than just his needle gun.

"you've gotta try and stay still for me yn, i know it hurts, but it'll be over soon" suguru soothed, as his eyes narrowed around the curves of your thighs, the way they flexed and trembled slightly as you whimpered due to the numbed pain.

"okay... can i hold onto you?" you ask. he responds with a nod. you grip his arm, wanting to feel tethered- you don't remember him being so well-built, his biceps feel thick and powerful, almost hard to the touch as he flexes per his movements.

...

you're now a few hours into the tattoo, suguru’s taking his time, to add such beautiful details. the tension between the two of you is palpable, but the air is no longer filled with animosity, but rather intimacy. knowing you though, and how impatient you are suguru already sees it coming when you-

"sug i'm fucking borreeddd" the numbing cream obviously doing its job to reduce the pain to something dismissible, suguru chuckles finding your impatience so familial and adorable.

"it's barely been two hours" suguru forever sassy, remarks, rolling his eyes at ur moodiness. "now stay still, you're messin up my work." suguru states, you huff and bite your tongue, as you don’t want to fuck up his flow, you already know he works best when he’s zoned-in on a task.

you decide to catch up with him, your curiosity building, you've both missed so much from each other's lives. "i like your parlour. i would've bet money you'd turn your art into tattoos, you were too talented to let your art hide in your sketches"

suguru smiles again, "yeah? it was either this or burning down the town", he jokes and makes you both laugh, due to the absurdity. however, you both knew, there was some truth to it, which honestly added to your laughs

"right, of course committing arson, and potential mass murder is an obvious alternative." you sarcastically quip

"what you don't agree, i know you're not much better at keeping your chaos in check," he teases, his eyes locking onto yours.

you feel yourself flush, feeling seen- so you try staying on track to your original plan to catch up with him, "when did you open this place?"

"well actually gojo was the one who invested in my passion"

"that's so sweet"

"yeah, he's a fucking asshole, always all up in my business," he remarks, with a small smile, feigning annoyance. you can feel the fondness behind his words.

you notice how suguru smiles, how he teases, just like he used to, & still has that assertive and confident allure to him, that natural dominance and assuredness in himself, that he almost lost. your conversation with one another continued, bantering off one another. you make each other laugh and snicker and your heart can’t help but swell.

...

your feelings for him set aflame once again. this time with a ferocity you could barely contain. only heightened by the dull pain that he controlled with his needle, marking you so prettily. the assured control suguru had over your body was so seductive, it made places other than your tatted thigh, start to ache, start to ache so badly.

finally, geto lays the finishing touches on your tattoo, clearing up the intricate lines, adding shadings and highlights, and then wiping over the tattoo.

"okay, it's done. you can go check it in the mirror, let me know if you hate it." geto keeping his gaze low somewhat anxious to see your reaction.

as you approach the full-body mirror attached to the opposite wall, you couldn't possibly understand his apprehension because when you lay eyes on your tattoo, you are completely awestruck. you fall completely in love with his markings, the way the thorns pierce through the heart and sliver down your left hip, and thigh, wrapping them gorgeously.

you are lost for words, your lips part with a gasp, and when you bring your eyes up onto suguru through the mirror, you see how he watches you. following from your thighs decorated in his work, marking your body so seductively. then he focuses on how your dress is bunched up on those hips, those hips he’s held, and soothed over for hours today, but his mind wanders... reminiscing about all those times he used to handle and caress all over your plump thighs. how he would mould your body any way he pleased.

he watched as you held the undone ties of your pretty bikini bottoms, it made him salivate. his eyes cast over your dress- the way it hugged your body so exquisitely, propping up your boobs so prettily. the way your butt peaks out of the bunched-up dress, and how your breathing picked up, flustered from his heated gaze.

"i love it sug." you whisper softly.

"yeah?" he smirks. growing bolder, he walks up to you, and you don’t dare avert your eyes from his, through the mirror. you love the way his top hugs his thick muscular shoulders. his broad upper back being so beautifully emphasised, and how his sculpted chest has his nipple piercings teasing through his top. you salivate at his slim waist. ugh he's such a slut. you love the way his body is perfectly decorated in his art, marking his skin; and adorning his arms, and his neck, which is wrapped with a chain, you remember gifting him.

when he reaches you, he has to crouch down, flexing his strong thighs and calves hidden under his baggy bottoms, but you still have to look up at him to maintain eye contact, which he demands with his own. suguru holds the bottom of your thigh just under where the tattoo ends.

"how does it feel?" he whispers into your ear, his sharp gaze still honed on you

you whimper faintly because of the dull sting and ache from the tat

"a little sore sug, but it feels good, i really like it." you say softly while you lean into him, wanting to be wrapped in his body, his warmth.

he smiles at your admission "that's good yn, i'm going to wrap it up now, don't want it getting infected." you love the way he says your name, the way he purrs, your name rolls off his tongue so tenderly.

as he wraps the tattoo you wince, he immediately soothes you, "i've got you baby, it's okay." your body relaxes in response. your eyes never leave each other. as the tension shifts you feel enthralled, wanting him to touch you all over.

"yn, do you want me to play with you?" suguru asks, having that condescending tone that never failed to make you falter. you almost shy away, but he holds your face, bringing his hand up under your chin, his fingers grip your cheeks slightly, making you look directly at him “i want to play with you, i want to help you forgive me baby...” he whispers into your ear. your breath becoming more uneven and flustered from his proximity, that you can practically taste his aroma, how he mixes his scents of minty, smoky notes and cinnamon, woody undertones - it intoxicates you.

“…do you want me to?”

geto waits for your response, not daring to touch you the way he wants, without knowing you’re aching for it. and you want nothing more than that, for him to take care of you how he once did, oh how you wanted to see if he still remembered how to make you cum so blissfully. you nod giving out a soft “please”.

suguru kisses the side of your head, sprinkling kisses down your face making you giggle and fawn, till he reaches your neck and you lose your breath. geto finds the sensitive parts on your neck, making you feel so tingly, it's almost ticklish. you almost forgot how much you loved when suguru kissed and licked across your neck, how he would bite and suckle, leaving you all marked up just how he liked. god he’d go fucking crazy for it too. to hear you whine and pant below him as he licked and sucked. it sent tingles all over your body, straight to your clit. you shuddered under him, leaning onto him- to give him better access to mark you. slowly he grips your hips grinding his bulge into you, he even bends you forward a little so that you can feel him, how hard he is for you- humping into you over your clothed body.

geto held you at an angle arched while both of you stood in front of the mirror so that he could have you grind right back onto his dick that was growing so achingly hard for you. the way he moved your bodies together was so disgustingly sensual, you had to look away moaning as you felt his clothed dick thrust into you, giving you that sensation you so craved. you were whining, you felt so depraved like you hadn’t been touched like this in so long- you just wanted him to rip you the fuck open.

“mmm nah baby look at yourself in the mirror…” he demanded, to which you stubbornly ignored, forcing suguru to grab your face so that you could look at how pathetically you had come undone for him, just from his dry humping. “… i said fucking look at yourself, mmm? you lost your manners baby?” he teases knowing exactly how to fix your attitude. he ends his command by giving your thigh (without the tattoo) a firm slap, making you cry out, you quickly try stifling it, remembering you’re still in his fucking workspace.

“you’re so mean” you whine and pout up at him, which makes him chuckle at you, his smirk unfurling so lewdly.

“i’m going to make it up to you mmm? you’ll let me make you feel good baby? gotta apologise for making my baby upset.” the way he talks to you feigning that concern, his fucking tone, makes you feel weak, and pliant for him. as you move your legs a little wider, and let go of your tied bikini bottoms so they hang down barely concealing a thing. geto watches how strings of your arousal are built up, clinging onto your pretty bottoms. showing him just how wet you are for him and you push your butt into him even more, nodding your head in invitation for him to remedy all the mess he’s made.

as suguru brings his rose-covered hand down to your aching pussy ready to soothe it. once he touches her, feeling your glistening folds, he hisses as his eyes glaze over, and lower so seductively. you see the way his hand flexes and his veins protrude. his long, adept fingers dip further, caressing and rubbing against your hard little clit. he can feel it pulse for him, making you whine as suguru increases the pressure of his fingers on your clit. circling around your throbbing bundle of nerves. his fingers collect the slick past your lips, down to your spasming, weeping hole, and brings them back to your needy nub.

his tight circles, pet your pretty clit so well, turning you into a mewling mess, you can’t help but move against and around his fingers, acting so bratty- but suguru couldn't give a shit, he'll mould you right where he needs you again holding you by your neck and continuing his strokes on that clit regardless of how you whine.

"sug- aaa-" such a petulant whine leaves your supple lips, begging for him to go further into your leaking hole, you needed him to be inside you, having your pussy drool on his pretty, tatted fingers.

"i know baby, you need it don't you? you need me to fuck you open mmm?" suguru whispers in your ear, kissing the outside of your earlobe so delicately, while saying such filthy things. you look at him through the mirror nodding your head so pathetically, and why would he deny you, his baby? nah never...

suguru brings his finger back down to your desperate hole. he eases around your pussy going around the edges of her, only dipping the tip of his finger. you can't take his teasing-

"sugu! stop teasin-" suguru immediately interrupts, plunging his fingers into you, making you gasp. he slipped into your soppy pussy giving off that mind-numbing squelching sound, having your pussy suck his fingers in so snuggly, has you moaning wantonly. the way suguru’s digits fill you, he’s able to add a finger, scissoring two fingers into your weeping cunt, the way he pushes in and curls his fingers to rub against your plush walls it has you mewling. as you feel him find and rub against that spot, that perfect spongey spot so easily, your eyes roll back. suguru was losing his mind, he rasped a soft moan right into your ear, he loved watching you buck on his fingers, the way you moaned and struggled to take him, it made him itch and drool to have you.

his fingers in your pussy stroking and pumping into your soft, wet pussy. his hand around your neck holding your face up to keep your eyes on everything he was doing. his deep, velvety voice right by your ear, whispering, and moaning sweet nothings. you were losing your fucking mind, you almost couldn't handle it.

"aaa- nngg, sug- sug!," you moaned shamelessly "f-ohfuck i can't-"

"sshh baby, tf you think you're doing mmm, whining like that in my office?" suguru whispers chastising you. your eyes look up at him, and the way you looked so doe-eyed, so pathetic- barely able to hold in your moans, gripped him.

"you struggling to take it for me baby, want me stop?" geto taunts, but you instantly shake your head needing him all over you.

“no please don’t stop sug”

"you can take what i give you princess?"

"i need you uhahh" you wanted him to have you however he pleased.

the way he moves has you humping and panting, you wine on him trying to get some friction against your slutty little cunt.

your moans grow louder and the pitch of your whines grow higher- you suck on your pretty fingers to try and get yourself quiet, your eyes glazing over as you watch suguru fuck you so good with his fingers and his hard bulge pushing up into you. the way he licks and bites all over your neck leaving a trail of his marks. suguru still never averts his dark eyes from yours. the purple glints in his eyes kind of sparkle in your head. all of it is bringing you right to the edge. your eyes roll back, your thighs shake, your knees buckle from the pleasure. so pliant and easy for him to manoeuvre you so he can hold you up and fuck you in just the right angles he needs, that he demands.

“fuckfuckfuc- aahh ohhhh sugie. daddy oh mmynghh” you whine and cry, your head lolling onto his shoulder.

right on the precipice of your orgasm, suguru watches how you get so close to cumming, he’s fucking salivating seeing how you become so undone, how you’ve gone fucking dumb on just his fingers, he can’t help but moan and groan right with you.

“mmm mmfuck, mine. mine.” he purrs, licking all up on you

but all too soon, it comes to a halt, and your orgasm gets snatched away from you. suguru wickedly decides to take his fingers out of you. you almost cry

“wha- no suguru fuck no don’t stop, mmmmnoo” you whine so pathetically gripping his arm, it’s fucking laughable trying to keep his fingers right where you needed them, gripping his sculpted arms so hard. your hands… the size difference makes him smile. no not smile, he’s fucking smirking. that little shit.

“fuck you, SUG HMPH!” you practically stomp your feet, pushing him away as you’re about to walk away, but of course suguru grips you against him, pulling you back so close, you are still as stubborn as ever refusing to look at him, while you’re face to face, which makes him snicker. he isn’t having any of that bullshit tho, he grabs your chin and cheeks squeezing as a warning. he pulls your face up to him again and kisses you on your forehead, the side of your head, and your cheek, and then he ghosts his plump, nude lips over your lips.

“if i decide you don’t get to cum on my fingers, you won’t. i don’t fucking care how close you are.” suguru states, locking his eyes with yours so intensely, while his lips and breath feel so close to your own, you almost feel faint. you want nothing more than for him to just kiss you, you want to feel his lips again, oh how you miss how soft they were, how you loved the taste of his mouth, the taste of the mint with his own unique feel.

suguru’s eyes flutter down to look at your lips so lushly plump and glossed he can’t help but lick his lips. he wants nothing more than to mess up your brown and pink lip combo. to bite, suck and lick all over you.

“tell me you understand.”

“i understand daddy, m’sorry i threw a tantrum, i just wanted to cum on your fingers so bad-”

suguru smiles feeling fucking delighted from your admission

“-can you please kiss me, i promise i’ll behave sugie” you whisper almost whining at the end, you rub your thighs together feeling how you made such a mess for him, as your slick trickles down your thighs.

suguru feeling so pleased with you, groans into your mouth, once your lips touch. he almost forgot how much he missed this. how much he missed you, your lips, those soft lips that melted against his. he loved the way you gasped and whined from your slow kiss, so sensual and intimate. but he knew you were such an impatient brat, his impatient princess.

demanding more, you lace your hands into his hair. you adored his long, luscious hair so much, (that you remember countless times joking about shaving it off at night and turning it into a wig. those playful moments would always have you both bickering and laughing together. it makes your heart swell remembering this).

you begged for more by stroking and tugging at the nape of his hair, making his body tingle, as suguru moaned into your kiss. he licked on your lips to get you to open up for him. he loves the way you whine and moan from frustration and neediness while running your fingers through his hair, it made him lose his fucking mind, so, of course, he had to express that by nipping at your bottom lip. his bite made you whimper and grind up against him but it wasn’t enough. you needed more. you wanted more. but suguru leads the kiss to hold that slow, deep and sensual pace, having your tongues dance together, lick against each other unhurried. which was mind-blowing but also so frustrating you wanted to just devour him, you couldn't get enough.

you moaned into his mouth as suguru sucked on your bottom lip, and then went back to your tongue, licking against each other. he spat in your mouth briefly separating your mouths from one another, and immediately resuming the kiss. at this, you snapped. whining wantonly, you gripped onto him and stubbornly clambered onto him so your legs wrapped around his waist. suguru was easily able to carry you. you were determined to make him fuck you.

“daddy” you whisper, opening your eyes to pout up at him.

“yes baby?” suguru answers, giving little kisses along your chin down to your neck. sucking onto your sensitive neck areas, he knew just the right spots to make you lose your fucking mind.

“i want you to fuck me…” you say grinding down onto the bulge you could feel through his sweats. you were sure you could feel a wet spot on them, but you weren’t quite sure of the culprit, as your wet pussy dragged and humped on his dick print leaking with pre-cum. you could feel his throbbing dick just aching to be inside you, pumping you full of his cum. suguru hissed from the feeling of your mess teasing his aching cock.

“… please baby, please fuck me again, i said i’d be good” you whined, moving closer to his ears so only he could hear how desperate you were for him. suguru moans, his voice breaks and rasps a little from you grinding on him and circling over his dick.

suguru fucking snaps, he closes his eyes while his mouth slightly hangs open, just taking in how your hips wined on him while he carried you.

he then cupped your face to him, “you’re such a fucking brat.” he moans, holding your face and caressing your throat, he watches how your breathing picks up, as you get so flustered. he brings you close, kissing you on your forearm, bringing his hand around your neck. then he carries you to his tattoo bed.

“i am not going to fuck you yn-.”

“-but su!” you begin to whine interrupting him

“be quiet.” suguru reprimands, gripping your neck just a little tighter after placing you to sit on the edge of the seat “i’m not gonna fuck you on my dick. when i have you like that, it’s gonna be on my bed, where i can have you screaming on it without any fucking interruptions. do whatever the fuck i wanna do without you getting all shy on me tryna muffle those pretty moans from me mmm, you understand baby?”

“yeah daddy” you answer feeling so giddy and light with him

“there’s my princess,” he smirks, “you’re really that fucking needy, want my dick here, right where my colleagues are downstairs mmm?” he says before kissing you again. “good girl” he praises while lifting off your dress and quickly bringing his lips back onto yours. slowly he brings you to lay back. he gets in between your thighs lifting one up over his shoulder while letting your tatted thigh rest over the edge of the bed. from this angle he could see your pretty glistening pussy, clenching around nothing.

“lay back baby.” he instructs, he sees how you wait in anticipation for him laying back on the bed.

he crouches down, kneeling in front of your exposed pussy, your slick brown lips he’s completely hypnotised by, they glisten from your wetness. you grow a little shy, you weren’t prepared to be eaten out today (૮꒰⸝⸝> <⸝⸝꒱ა). you bring down your hands to try and cover her up, feeling a little embarrassed.

suguru immediately dismissing your nonsense, and swats your hand away bringing them to instead hold your plush thighs “don’t piss me off today yn, it’s fucking mine.” you almost squeal in response to suguru, he gets so intense sometimes.

suguru is completely enchanted by your scent, the way your hole quivers and weeps for him he has to have a taste. keeping his eyes on you suguru takes the time to separate your folds with his fingers, he licks your swollen nub revelling in the way you gasp and twitch from the sensation, you feel so sensitive from the way his fingers had you shacking.

he then delves in, lapping and sucking on your bud making you writhe and moan from pleasure. the movement of his tongue has such an effect on your pussy, it's marvelling. he takes his time, really getting you sensitive, flattening his tongue on your clit and then straightening it to add pressure, circling perfectly around your bundle of nerves, it makes you gasp and arch your back so prettily

“fuck! sug-daddy aaaahhh” you release a raspy cry, gripping his hair and pulling him into you to, so you can grind on his face, which makes him moan into you, muffling a-

“fuck baby” into your wet pussy, he has to hold your hips down as you begin moving around too much for him to control, so he holds your thigh and places his other arm on your hip, pushing you down, so you stay fucking still for him to play with you properly. suguru brings his tongue down to your leaking hole, thrusting his pointed tongue into your pussy making you mewl and cover your mouth to stop yourself from squealing.

the way you’re panting and moaning, suguru can tell you're going dumb for him, aching to cum all over him. he takes his mouth off of you as your moans get higher. you whine from the absence of his tongue on your needy pussy but he makes up for it by spitting on her, letting his spit slide onto your sensitive cunt. the way his spit glistens and slides down your pussy, he pushes it back into your hole, thrusting his fingers and spit back into you. you react by clutching your thighs together from the sensitivity which makes suguru look at you sharply.

“open.”

you whine, separating your thighs, so he can dip his head back down onto your clit which makes you shudder, bucking your hips into his face. he continues thrusting his fingers into you while his tongue plays and toys with your sore little clit. you can feel everything, it's all so much, your eyes roll back as your mouth hangs open letting out a broken moan while you tug at suguru’s hair.

the way his fingers scissor your folds open, cunt drooling and sucking him in greedily, while he laps and lightly nips on your clit letting his spit drool on you, just for him to suck on your juices. he eats so sloppily it has your eyes watering.

“s’good sug—so fuckin’ good,” hips grinding into the movement of his lengthy fingers, chasing that ecstasy knotting in the pits of your stomach, you’re so close you start seeing white, suguru knows you’re about to cum from the way your fingers tangle and tug at his hair, struggling to either push him closer or away from you. his dark piercing gaze never leaves your face.

“daddy m’gonna cum! shit hah aa sug please lemme cum oh please” you sob, which makes suguru groan into your pussy. feeling the way your hole clenches around his fingers, leaking out so much wetness. the way your hard clit throbs for him, your juices covering, adorning his beautiful face, he looks so pussy drunk. the only thing on his mind is making you cum all over him.

“mmm baby, you gonna cum for me.. that’s my good fucking girl” he says pumping his fingers into you while moving his other hand to circle your clit in tight circles, so he can talk you through your orgasm.

“oh fuck daddy! oh my godnngh” your hands immediately grip suguru’s hands as you squeal and moan wantonly. your body arches and bucks as you dig your nails into him leaving little crescents on his skin. your vision dots, as your body tenses, lips parting into a silent scream as your release flies through you, wetting the tattoo bed. suguru watches your cream flow beneath you, all over his mouth. he pushes your juices back into your leaking hole, drooling at the way your hole squelches.

“there’s my good girl, oh you did so good baby mmmm” he praises lapping at your excess juices spilling down, you’re so fucking sensitive it hurts

“sug-ahh it hurts, fuckk” you whine, purring up at him as you watch suguru’s desire envelop you, you can tell he’s not done with you, but you doubt you could even take anymore.

suguru slithers up to you, kissing and licking up your boobs, making you squirm. when he reaches you he holds your face so gently, mere inches away from you.

“you forgive me baby?” suguru whispers gently stroking his nose against yours, almost purring against you like a cat “mmmm?” he purrs stroking the side of your face and caressing your limp exhausted body. you feel so warm against him, so lewd and yet so protected.

“i forgive you, you’re such an asshole” you giggle feeling a little shy again, only suguru was able to make you shy, and flush so easily. suguru whispers back a thank you and captures your lips into a searing kiss, melting you both together so passionately. you clutch onto the nape of his neck and run your fingers through his hair, earning you a moan, as suguru’s tongue dances with yours sensually. he grips your hips, pulling you against him. you can feel his bulge pulsing for you-

“suguru, aye we’re back! and u’ve got another appointment waiting!” you both hear from downstairs at the reception, shoko calling out to suguru followed by gojo following suit making a ruckus, throwing a tantrum about his arm

“dudeee, where tf r u? i coulda died!” gojo shouts out. you can hear him coming up the stairs to suguru’s office

“mmm fuck suguru, they’re coming up” you gasp up to suguru who still refuses to take notice of them. he smirks, choosing to still feel all up on you

“mmmm don’t care c’mere” suguru states, you roll your eyes

“suguruuu c’mon” you smirk, pushing against him

“ugghh for fucksake” suguru huffs moving off of you, taking your hand and pulling you up to him making you yelp with excitement. you both come to your senses though when you hear gojo’s footsteps up the stairs getting close, both of you scrambling to put your dress back on and get you both presentable.

suguru then holds your chin, so you both look at each other

“what?” you nervously laugh at his intense look

“let me take you out yn? i’ve missed you so much baby” suguru pleads while stroking the side of your cheek with his thumb

“mmmm i dunno sug, dependdss on where you’re gonna take me” you smirk up at him

“let me worry about that baby, i wanna treat you, try and make it up to you” suguru implores and then kisses your forehead just as gojo barges in-

“sUgUruUuu!!”

♡ ༺｡° .ᘛ𓆩♡𓆪ᘚ. ° ｡༻

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