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starlightazriel · 2 days

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bad boy az x school girl au part 3 (fem reader)

warnings: 18+ as usual, smut, angst, drug addiction, drug abuse, underage drinking, very dark childhood, abusive parent, age gap (sophomore x senior)

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Regular sex. I was having regular sex with Azriel. It seemed quite surreal actually, that someone like me would have regular sex with anyone, let alone Azriel. He would wait for me on that same bench, or sometimes with his car, leaning up against it to be sure I saw him. It was definitely strange, people knew my name now. I didnt ask him if we were dating, though it felt like it.

We did more than just have sex, and I couldn't deny that I was completely in love with him after only several weeks, despite not knowing much of anything about him. Only what he chose to show me. It was starting to get colder, the fall air getting more crisp as winter approached. Azriel and I had plans tonight, plans that I was very much looking forward to. So when I left school that day I was expecting Azriel to be there, leaning up on his car and waiting for me. He wasn't there though, my heart sank. Right on time with my disappointment, my phone buzzed. Raincheck butterfingers? im sorry. There was never any warning in advance, no reason why, it would just be some short message that he had to reschedule and it always came right when Id leave school looking for him, only once it was a few minutes late.

Azriel looked down at his phone, read, typing and then just like that the typing stopped, nothing. It wasn't the first time he had blown her off, she never left him on read though. Normally, this wouldn't bother him, it wouldn't matter, normally he wouldn't have a second thought about being left on read. With her, it was different for some reason. Like disappointing her was just, gut wrenching, which he didnt know how to feel about that either. Azriel could see the way she looked at him, he could see how happy she was when she was around him, she didnt think about her parents arguing, or about the social pressures of high school, or the pressures of deciding what school she was eventually going to go to when she graduated. He knew it was unrealistic, for someone like her to be with him. He felt like he would just drag her down, like he wasn't nearly good enough for her. Im really sorry I have to handle this. A double text, he never did that, but again, with her, things were just different, she was too innocent, too much of a sweetheart. Plus, he was older, he was supposed to be the responsible one, so that's why he sent her a second text.

He knew that it would have to come to an end eventually, he knew that he would have to break both of their hearts when the time came.

She didnt read the second one, he cursed again and shook his head, parking in front of his house and jogging inside. He went up to his room, sat on his bed and took a few bong rips, Rhys' name lit up on his screen but he let it ring. He'd go talk to him later. He pulled himself together and pushed his night table aside pulling the board on the floor up to reveal his stacks of cash he had been saving over the years, hustling came easy to him, he had been doing it since elementary, he had bought candy bars for a dollar and sold them at school for three, secretly of course, back of the playground, boys bathroom, under the bleachers... Eventually middle school came and the candy bars turned into selling his dad's cigarettes, then high school, the cigarettes turned to pills, weed and mushrooms.

He had each of the stacks separated with rubber bands into a thousand dollars each, he grabbed a band, shoved it in his pocket and replaced the floorboard, pulling his night stand back over it.

With the cash in his pocket he headed to the police station. He pulled up, snapping the rubber band off the cash so it didnt look as much like drug money. "Afternoon boys," he strode in, the cops knew him well I mean, it was a small town for one and he had gotten into plenty of trouble in his days, and for two the neighbors had been calling on his dad and him for domestic disputes for years. And besides that, he had bailed his dad out of jail a few times a year at this point. They never asked where Azriel got the cash, maybe they just didnt give a fuck to care about a teenager and his drug addicted father. "What's the damage?" he mumbles, placing his scarred tattooed hands on the counter.

"750 today," the officer says after checking some things on his computer, Azriel winced before carefully counting the cash and placing it on the counter mumbling, "he's lucky I don't leave his ass in here," he shoves the remaining cash in his pocket before sitting down on a nearby chair to wait for them to retrieve his father.

He sighs as they bring him out, each year he seemed to get worse, heroin, cocaine to balance out the tiredness, really he knew his dad would do whatever he could get his hands on. His face was skeleton thin, pale and bruised, eyes sunken in with dark circles surrounding them. Azriel stood, turned, and started walking out of the building not saying a single word to his dad, really there was nothing to say. There was never a time that he had gotten along with his dad, before his mother abandoned them he had beat his mother until she couldn't take it anymore, he would never forgive either of them, he knew that, he would die hating both of them, and the only hope that he had was to eventually leave his dad and never see him again either. For now, until the end of the school year, it was what it was. Which was another reason why dating y/n was just unrealistic and out of reach, he planned to leave after graduation. To get as far away from this town as he could, even if it meant leaving Rhys and Cass behind, even if it meant leaving her behind. She was just a girl anyway, one he had only known for a few months in fact.

"Hurry up," Azriel muttered before getting into the car, he checked his phone again, nothing from her, she had to be angry with him. That was new, and he didnt like it. He had stood her up a handful of times, none of them had been intentional, simply circumstantial. His dad eventually hobbled to the car, getting into the passenger seat and slamming the door behind him. No appreciation, no thank you, nothing. Azriel pulls out of the station and begins to drive back to his house.

"Cigarette, boy," his dad demands, leaning back and sighing as if he had just got done after a long days work, he hadn't worked for years, for years Azriel had been burdened with paying the bills enough so they at least had hot water and heat. Azriel rolled his eyes and tossed a half empty pack to his dad, not wanting to be bothered for another one when he finished the first. His dad growled at the gesture, "if you weren't so damn disrespectful boy, maybe your mother wouldn't have left us, she couldn't bare to see that damn ugly scowl anymore," his dad grunted, Azriel scoffs, his hands gripping the steering wheel.

"Yeah, that's why she left," he muttered and came to a screeching hault in front of their house. He still recalled the day his mother left like it was yesterday, the night before, she had tried to protect him, his father had been belligerently drunk the night before, enough that he had barely been able to speak. He had only been seven years old.

He remembered the pain best, the blood soaking his shirt from his busted lip, his entire body aching and sore from the tumble he had taken down the stairs. His dad had pushed him because he had left one of his toys in the hall and his father had stepped on it. He remembered being curled up under his bed, hugging his bruised body, crying as he listened to the screams from his mother. Wincing every single time that she cried out. His dad yelling, the sounds of her body hitting the floor over and over again. He remembered waking up the next morning, still under his bed his body aching he remembered feeling like he couldn't move but forcing himself out, he had to check on his mother. "Mom? Where are you going?" he had asked she was covered in cuts and bruises, her eyes both swollen almost shut, he remembered wanting to cry, but not wanting to make her sad. She had been at the door, bag slung over her shoulder. "Oh Azzie baby," she had started crying at the sight of him, rushed to the bottom of the stairs, she hugged him tighter than she ever had before. "He's going to kill me Azzie, I have to go, I will come back for you, Im so sorry baby, stay strong okay?" she had told him before she left. He didnt know then that it was the last time he would see her. Azriel had waited five years before he decided that his mother was either dead, or wanted nothing to do with him because of his father, and he hated them both for it.

"Get out," Azriel reaches over his father with his long arm to open the passenger door, flicking his head toward the house. "I got shit to do," he mumbles not giving his dad even another look.

"Give me a hundred boy," his dad demands, Azriel takes a deep breath, anger coursing through his veins, he wanted to rip his throat out. "Come on boy, been in there for a whole day, you left me in there, I know they called you last night," he didnt move from the car. Azriel didnt have time for this, he had seen his father in withdrawal more times than he cared to admit and he didnt want to deal with it tonight, too much to do. Reluctantly he fished around in his pocket pulling out a fifty and tossing it at him.

"That's all I got, bail was expensive," he muttered and nodded toward the house again. "Goodbye," he says and he hears his dad grumbling about how disrespectful kids are today and that he better not come home tonight or he'd get his ass beat, Azriel wasn't worried though, he was bigger than his father now and anyway he knew by the time he returned his dad would be nodded off on the couch, he never got so lucky for an overdose, only once but he had been younger, he knew he would go into foster care until turned 18 if his dad died, so he had called the cops. He still had spent 6 months in foster care that year before returning to his father.

"Fuck is wrong with you?" Cass asks as Azriel entered the apartment belonging to his two older and oldest friends, they were all brothers at this point. They were the only real family he had. Since he could remember Azriel had always been around older kids, smoking first, drinking first, having sex first... Rhys and Cass had always been around, they had once rode bikes around their neighborhood and egged the principals house after Azriel had gotten suspended from the bus for sticking gum to the back of Stacy Willets seat which had got all stuck in her hair, now older and more mature he realized that was bullying. Azriel had only been nine years old when they had egged his house, Rhys and Cass had been twelve. He had met them when he was only five years old, first day of school, a fresh kindergartener wanting to impress the two third grade boys, naturally it happened at the bus stop, Azriel had impressed them by pick pocketing a fellow students pack of gum. Stealing of all things, he guessed he had always been bad, ever since he could remember.

"Just had to bail out my fucking deadbeat again," he grumbles, plopping himself down on the sofa and reaching for the spliff that Cass was holding in his hand, he passes it to Azriel, raising a brow. "Where's Rhys? I need work," he mumbles inhaling the smoke and sinking into the back of the couch.

"Well you're in luck, he just went to pick up," he doesn't comment about his dad, he knew Azriel didnt like to talk about it. "Skate while we wait?" he asked, throwing his hands up as if to ask how about it? His lips drawing in slightly in a turned down smile.

"Yeah, need that," Azriel says and shrugs, standing up to grab his favorite of Rhys' boards off of the racks they had on the wall, even though his was in the trunk of his car. He recalled the days that the three of them would skate every single day after school. They would meet up, get high out of their minds while they walked the woods trail from the school to the skate park and skate until it got completely dark out, not even stopping to eat. They had graduated his freshman year, and the last few years of school had been torture without them, he had other friends, they just weren't real friends he supposed until butterfingers. He couldn't help but smile which earned him a suspicious look from Cass as he grabbed his own board off the wall before leaning it against the couch.

"Peanut butter and mushroom jelly?" he asks and laughs. Azriel puts the now stinger of a spliff in the ashtray, Rhys' board still tucked under his arm and nods.

"When have I ever said no?" He asks him and smirks, sitting at one of their kitchen stools, placing the board over his lap now. He checks his phone while Cass places two pieces of white bread on the bare counter, smearing jelly on one side peanut butter on the other, he then retreated and came back dumping an eighth of shrooms onto the sandwich. Azriels stomach twisted when he opened instagram to see that she had posted a story, she never posted on her socials, he didnt much either, but still. His thumb hovered over it, debating on whether or not he should look, he knew girls were complicated, everything they did was a message.

"If anything will cheer you up it's this," Cass says as he cuts the now sandwich into two equal halves and hands one to Azriel. He takes the sandwich and takes a large bite, almost half already gone and he chews, the board still balancing on his lap. He would never get used to that earthy taste, like he had just picked up a pile of leaves and rotting sticks off the ground and was just chewing on them, he scrunched his nose, glancing up at Cass for only a minute to see him pouring two glasses of orange juice a similar expression on his face.

Azriel just shook his head, setting the sandwich down to take a swig before he finally just decided to watch the damn story. His heart leapt seeing her face on the screen now, a selfie? Since when, did she post selfies? Jealousy was the only thing that stopped him from hearting it. Azriel knew he was popular, yes it was in a different way than the jocks and the cheerleaders but still, he knew how people were noticing her since he had started walking the halls with her. He shoved the rest of the sandwich into his mouth and opened the text thread again, seeing that she had read his last message only about twenty minutes ago, this only annoyed him further. So you can post but you can't respond to my message? Triple texting a girl, who even was he anymore? "You alright?" Cass' voice pulls him from his thoughts and he locks his phone, swallowing the rest of the sandwich and washing it down with more juice.

"Let's go skate," he says and stands backup, the board tucked under his arm again. Cass seemed to accept this as an appropriate answer, he knew him and Rhys had to look out for him, they were like his older brothers, but prying, wasn't the way to look out for Azriel, it would only make him not return their calls for weeks until he sorted whatever it was out on his own. They made their way to the parking lot which had a convenient rail with a cement base near the sign for the apartments, the rail was already left scraped and bare on the top from them skating from time to time.

Azriel was definitely slightly drunk, it was late now, well past midnight as he walked from his car that he parked on the end of her street. It was freezing out now but he still wore a tshirt and jeans, his tattoos gleamed in the moonlight, he noted how trippy they looked, the effects of the shrooms him and Cass had done still wearing off. When Rhys had finally got back, they went out, Azriel using his fake since he wasnt twenty one. He had gotten half of the pills off that Rhys brought back, but he wasn't worried, he knew he'd sell the rest at school tomorrow, too damn good not to. She still hadn't responded to him and he had only gotten increasingly annoyed as the day had went on, so when he stumbled into her back yard, it was with intention.

He walked around the side to where he knew her window was and began throwing small rocks, they made small clinking noises before falling back onto the ground. "This is so fuckin stupid," he muttered to himself, shaking his head, he knew he looked like a complete idiot and he was about to go home before he saw the glow of her desk lamp and then, there she was, her brows furrowed as she peered down at him from the second story window. He watched her pry the window open, a smile threatening at his lips.

"Azriel what are you doing? It's a school night," she asks, the tone of her voice like a yell and a whisper at the same time. He couldn't help it, he smiled then, because, of course she would care about that.

"Let me fuck you before you go back to bed," he says back, and he didnt even have to see her up close to know that she was blushing beet red up there. There's a long pause of silence and he looks up at her, raising his arms the same way that Cass did earlier.

"How are you supposed to get in?" she finally asks, huffing out a shaky breath, keeping her voice at a low volume.

"I'll climb," he responds as if it's the simplest task in the world, there was a small roof in front of her window, it covered the back porch area.

"And how will you get down after?" she asks, as if challenging him.

"That's not a now problem butterfingers," he says back, shrugging his shoulders. He doesn't wait for her to say anything else before he's using one of the patio chairs to stand on and he somehow manages to get himself onto the roof and nearly falls into her room. Her hand covers over her mouth.

"Azriel be quiet my parents are sleeping," she hisses softly but he is on his feet by the time she finishes her sentence, he looks down at her, studying her face as if something would now be different.

"Y/n," he was too drunk to care about the surprise that crossed her face and then flush that crept onto her cheeks as her hands slowly dropped at her sides. He had never really said her name before, not outside of class when he had been talking to their teacher. Her lips parted slightly and she stared at him, waiting for what he was going to say next. "Why did you ignore me today?" he finally asked, there were so many things he wanted to tell her, but he knew he couldn't, it would only hurt her in the long run.

"Because you blew me off again, apparently to get drunk," she wrinkled her nose slightly, she may have tried to play it cool, but Azriel knew she was nervous.

"I promise you, it wasnt like that at all," he shakes his head, now feeling slightly nervous as well, which wasnt normally a thing for him. There was a lot of new things with her though. "I had to pick my dad up, and then you weren't texting me and yeah, somehow we ended up here," he finally says, her face softens, which it seemed to any time he mentioned his dad. She really knew nothing, but she knew it was something, he appreciated her understanding, and he appreciated that she never asked any prying questions.

"Im sorry for ignoring you," she finally says after a small pause of silence, he breaks out in a smile and then remembers the selfie, his smile didnt falter when her grabbed her face in his hands, her breath hitched.

"Im going to need every name that slid up on that picture you posted, Im going to lace their weed," he says casually, she didnt even have time to process before his lips were on hers. He kissed her hungrily, claiming her with a dominance he hadn't used before and he pushed her toward her bed, she let out a small gasp as her knees buckled against the bed. Azriel knew if he hadn't drank so much he wouldn't have came here, he knew he wouldn't have been here claiming her as his. Selfish, he was being so damn selfish.

He yanked her pajama pants from her body, placing kisses on her bare torso as he did, her tank top had ridden up just under her breasts that were now peaked, nipples poking the thin fabric. "This?" he mumbled, pressing his palm onto her pussy, holding it, shaking his hand just a little bit causing her to gasp in pleasure as she looked down at him, face flushed, lips parted, propping herself up on her elbows so she could see him better. "This is all mine, do you understand baby?" he asks, his eyes locking with hers, dark with lust, tone unwavering as his eyes bore into hers, searching. He had never in his whole career of having sex behaved this way with someone before, he was too damn drunk to be afraid of it. "Answer me," he says, as she had seemed to be lost for words, her brows twisted with pleasure as she panted before him.

"I understand," she breathed out, he let out a small grunt of approval finally releasing his hand from her and pulling her panties off, humming in approval.

"Look how wet you are already," he dipped his head down, taking a small lick of the wetness gathered at her opening, humming softly in approval at her delicious taste. She whimpered softly beneath him and he stood, her eyes widened a bit, and she looked at him curiously. "On your stomach," he mutters humming again in approval as she rolls over onto her stomach without hesitation. "Fuck," he groans before burying his face into her again, he licked her opening, wiggling his tongue inside her deeper, his nose pressing into the pucker of her ass, she gasps again, trying to pull away a bit but he holds her hips steady, inhaling her sweet sent as he continued to move his tongue. She buried her face into her pillow and he noted the way that her fingers gripped her sheets and her pillow, her knuckles white like she was hanging on for dear life.

He pulled back a bit, licking all the way up from her ass to the top of her neck, goosebumps covered her body and she let out a muffled whimper into her pillow. "This was all you needed wasnt it?" He asks, moving her hair aside so he could ask right in her ear, his husky voice making her toes curl. "Needed me to lick your sweet little cunt and fuck you til you see stars so you can stop acting like a little brat," his lips were right next to her ear, causing a shiver to shoot through her, she only moaned in response. Now this, was more his style, never claiming a pussy as his own, he never cared about having someone to himself. Everything was different with her.

He grabbed one of her smaller pillows, his other hand sliding down her side before he lifted her a bit, sliding the pillow underneath her. He cursed quietly at the sight,, her ass now poking up for him at the perfect angle, her pussy gleamed in the dim light of her desk lamp. He didnt have time to undress, only enough time to free his aching cock from his jeans and shove it into her, making her cry out softly.

"So fuckin wet," he slurred a little bit, his fingers digging into her hips as he began to fuck her, harder, faster and needier than he ever had. She gripped the sheets tightly, no words, only soft moans and whimpers escaped her lips. Her body tensed, and he knew it was coming, he braced himself as her walls tightened around him and she gushed, crying out softly as she came all over his cock. "Oh fuck," he moaned again, the feeling of her sending him over the edge as well, he pulled out, spilling everything onto her ass, his breath ragged as he marveled at her beautiful body. He collapsed next to her, and silence fell as they caught their breath, she was peering at him now with only one eye, her face still smushed into the pillow, it made his heart melt. "No more ignoring me," he mutters, still breathless as he studies the half of her face he could see, he wanted to remember this moment forever.

"I might just do it every day if I get this treatment."

a/n: that got so dark for a min there idk what's wrong with my fucked up mind, y'all gonna have to brace yourselves for the next part :( don't forget to tell me what you think

#acotar #azriel smut #azriel spymaster #azriel fic #acotar smut #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #azriel fanfic #azriel fan fiction #azriel fluff #azriel x reader #azriel au #azriel

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maragarita · 2 days

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This is the first time I've been able to watch an episode of maws as it airs so here's my take on S2E6!

• Clark is actually being mean and sassy and I love him for it like yes bby please wake up in a better mood next time you were kidnapped not murdered

• I didn't realize in the preview clip that aired a few days ago but Kara's eyes grey out even when she says "model citizen" at the beginning of the episode!

• the look when Clark sees Lois : (( the poor boy didn't even have time to process the breakup before he got knocked out and thrown into space but also she was the first thing he thought of when Kara asked if anyone cared for the real him :((((

• Clark says ow when he fights with Kara over the Polaroid! It's so natural that it took me a second to realize that he probably doesn't normally feel pain from playful roughhousing??

• the fact that Clark immediately clocks Kara the way Jimmy clocked him and Lois. The little shimmer in his eye when he asks if she likes him

• "what, no, what? I don't even know what that means. Stop being all weird with your stupid earth brain" this whole sequence makes me REALLY REALLY look forward to a post-brainiac maws where Clark and Kara can just be cousins in metropolis together (which I fully believe the maws crew will make happen)

• Cousin snowball fight I cryyy

• For a second I almost believed we were actually going to see space traveling and new planets but makes sense

• ok it's been lowkey before this episode but is Clark actually kryptonian super saiyan I don't know the lore

• Kara actually did genocide while brainwashed oh no

• I'm sorry I'm sorry WHAT Jimmy and Lois both 1. Found MM and the brain from the OTHER DIMENSION they traveled to and 2. WENT INTO SPACE TO FIND CLARK my joy is unending I love this show

• Clark is actually going to be used as a weapon nooo poor boy just wants to help I can't handle a world where the maws version of Clark Kent is a murderer :((((

Final thoughts, love! The maws crew is already doing such a good job of making Clark and Kara feel like cousins and I'm so happy she's in the show even though I was honestly hesitant about it at first. The next episode is called Olsen's eleven and once again I am. My joy is immeasurable. I love this show. I love that we get to experience it every week instead of all at once because now I get to comb through all the small animation details while I waitt!!! I'm just sad there were no phones in this episode because HOW will I know if it's still Monday may 9th now???

#i mean seriously at one point it was november 11th they could throw ANYTHING at us at ANY time #and i didnt even talk about how clark got so happy when he found out his moms name is Lara like :((#give this man a fortress of solitude he needs to have something he can hold onto #i do love how he pushed back on the catch memory being about repression #but like IS IT?#be so real with me how do you think the maws crew will play the repression/true self thing #personally i'd be like “its not repression for me to learn how to not break someone in half when i hug them??”#and post-brainiac they will probs have kara antics about reigning in her strength so yay #my adventures with superman #maws #maws season 2 #maws spoilers #maws season 2 spoilers #my adventures with superman season 2 spoilers #my adventures with superman spoilers

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luminouslywriting · 3 days

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Alright wildcard idea do not attempt unless you’re in at least 69% health: which boys (mota preferred bc I haven’t watched bob yet but if it makes you happy feel free to include them) could you see in a throuple?

Be it one of them with two girls at home that keep each other company until he comes back or reader with two soldiers to worry about.

(Beside whatever Buck and Bucky have going on obviously like come on they’re fooling no one)

Nonny, nonny, nonny....you're so right. The thing is?? It would absolutely happen just like this. And Buck and Bucky? They're really not fooling anyone haha. So this one revolves around Dougie and Blakely....so do with that what you will haha.

More under the cut, cut for length, spice obviously included:

-It wasn't intended to start out this way....

-You were a friend of Douglass's from back home and he invited you to visit him after basic

-And after hitting it off with his friend Blakely and a few too many drinks, the three of you are stumbling after one another back to the hotel where you were staying

-One minute Blakely is in the bathroom and the next minute, you and Douglass are jumping each other's bones

-But then Blakely is watching from the doorway, only halfway coherent

-And it isn't until both of them have had their wicked way with you and several rounds in that any of you are aware of what was going down

-So an awkward conversation is had but you're not about to let go of either of them since they're leaving

-And so what comes about is a throuple and they're pleasantly surprised that this might just work out??

-Those next few weeks before they leave is a whirlwind of romance—the three of you cramming into a shower together, taking turns going out on dates, trying to be normal in public, having wild car sex that almost got you all caught, figuring out how to please one another (you figure out pretty quickly that Ev is a munch and Dougie really likes being in charge).

-The brat taming from the two of them when they team up and talk dirty to you? Unparalleled.

-The seduction that you get to play on both of them and they fall for it every time? Iconic.

-And the thing is?? The three of you are very good at playing things down and just acting like close friends in public

-It's behind closed doors and closets at parties that's a problem—what with Dougie's hand covering your mouth while he's putting your hands to work and Ev is on his knees and drawing every dirty sound to the surface

-But then they're gone and they're across the seas in Europe and it's just hard to be apart from them both

-The love letters contain so many dirty dreams from all three of you, sweet nothings and declarations of love, and some naughty polaroids

-But you're faithfully waiting for the two of them to come back so you can figure things out together—not that any of you has gotten that far (Because at least one is going to marry you, but they're still trying to work that out amongst themselves).

#mota fanfic #mota #masters of the air fanfic #mastersoftheair #masters of the air #masters of the air x reader #masters of the air headcanons #everett blakely headcanons #everett blakely x reader #everett blakely #james douglass x reader #james douglass

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horrorlesbians · 8 months

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people have started using 'ethel cain' on depop as a catchall aesthetic term like how coquette girlies use 'lana del rey' and it is an attack against me personally

#🦌#i go on normally a few times a week just to see if anyone is selling merch i don't have #and to also save listings to watch how much stuff goes for. bc I'm nosy #'started' they have been for a little bit but its much worse now

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comfytaire · 2 years

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sent my friend a pic of the guy i'm crushing on and she thought it was hozier for a good 2 minutes just so u guys know the kind of ridiculously pretty man i'm dealing with here

#i've a feeling this date won't end up manifesting purely bc of not finding the time and then just fizzling out #i rly hope that doesn't happen #im aware i haven't shut up about him but this is all very new to me i haven't liked anyone new for 4 years #so i just don't know how to deal with it normally #and its freaking me out how much i like him already and how disappointed i will be if we don't end up going on this date #like he says he will still defo want to go out by the time we're both free in a few weeks #but what if between now and then he changes his mind or just doesn't feel like it #and then im just left feeling like an idiot for getting so excited about it #im not used to this !!!!!#and he's so FIT he's SO fit i fancy him so much #i want to touch his stupid beautiful hair and make him laugh and find out more about him #and see how he reacts to things he finds out about me #im too impatient and nervous to wait 3 weeks without freaking out that that's too long for him to still wanna hang out #im spiralling over nothing and i know this but. im just. not used to liking someone that isn't my established partner #fuckin elllllll #anyway #fancy man

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melivora · 8 months

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The good news:

The ex coworker who borrowed my 200 pound sterling-worth 3DS game and lost it told me she has bought me a replacement

The bad news:

I built up the courage to ask Mr Luxembourg out on a date and he is not single

#mmmm watchasay #if anyone has been keeping up with my life lore with my sporadic posts lmao #okay but like the way I found an opportunity to be alone with him to ask him was so clutch #I forced myself to do it bc it was the perfect chance so I couldn't back out #also I was slightly drunk which was essential #it was also the worst moment of my life #but he did say he was very flattered which was so cute so it almost made it worth it #also lowkey dreading having to see him again next week it's going to be so awkward and funny sorry m8 #he almost didn't turn up he was so late then he just popped up out of nowhere it was truly so narrative #he hasn't mentioned a partner at all the whole time who the FUCK are they #ahem I mean I am very normal #anyway I'll try again in another 5 years when I next meet someone I like #also hiding this in the notes but seeing the few people I have a crush on all in the same day is like torturous lmao

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fxllfaiiry · 1 year

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─ you're the sunflower ੈ✩‧₊˚

✶ pairing: miguel o'hara x fem!reader

✶ synopsis: everyone on the team loves you, expect miguel who seems to hate you more than anyone.

✶ warnings: angst!! major angst. sunshine!reader x grumpy!miguel. reader is nicknamed sunflower, mentions of death.

✶ notes: there's one spanish sentence in this, I'm not good with spanish so if I've made a mistake please tell me so i can fix it! part two is already up!!!

Everyone on the team loved you from the moment you joined, everyone, except Miguel.

You knew Miguel was cold towards everyone, but he was extra cold with you. Maybe it was because of how different your personalities were.

You were the embodiment of sunshine, always positive in any situation, putting others before yourself. Hence why everyone calls you sunflower, it fits perfectly, Miles was proud of coming up with it.

Miguel on the other hand was cold and distant but that didn't stop you from trying to get him to open up. You'd try to have simple conversations with him but nothing, all you would receive in reply was an eye roll or a slight grunt, but you wouldn't give up that easily.

Like today, you got him some coffee.

"Morning, boss. Got you some coffee." You said in your usual cheerful tone.

"Why?" He raised his eyebrows, looking down at you suspiciously. That's the most he's said to you all week.

"Because I wanted to." You shrugged, placing it down on his desk.

He steped down walking towards his desk, you couldn't help but stare at him, unfortunately for you, everything about him was so attractive, it's such a shame he hated you.

"This isn't how I like my coffee."

"Huh?" You snapped out of your daydream at the sound of his voice.

"The coffee, it tastes terrible. Get it from another place next time."

"Well, actually I made it-" But he had already walked away from you not listening to a word you said. "Alright, never mind, I'll just go back to work." You mumbled hurt by his words.

"Wait, hold on." You looked up, thinking, maybe he'll say something nice after all.

"Yeah?"

"Take the coffee with you, I won't be drinking it."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"Girl, why do you look so sad? Did Miguel do something again?" Jess asked with a frown, she did not like seeing you sad.

"No."

"Sunflower…"

"Okay, yes." Miguel being cold towards you was normal, he never spoke to you unless necessary. Out of everyone here, he probably hated you the most, even more than Miles.

"Sunflower, I've told you to stop trying." Jess sighed.

"I know, I know… why does he hate me so much, Jess?"

"That's just the way he is, don't overthink it. It's his loss, baby." She replied, gently patting your shoulder.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Today was going to be a good day, you were so sure of it.

But, of course, you were wrong.

Everything was going great up until a few hours ago.

Miguel had assigned you on a mission to catch an anomaly, alongside a few other spider-people. His instructions were clear, stick to the plan and catch the anomaly. It was supposed to be simple.

If only you didn't disobey him. You screwed up badly, and because of that, you could have been killed.

"Why don't you ever listen?" Miguel shouted. No one had ever seen him this angry.

"I was just tryin-"

"¡Ay, por el amor de Dios!" Being yelled at by your boss in front of your coworkers was humiliating, everyone was looking at you with pity.

"I'm sick of this, why can’t you follow simple instructions? Is it that hard to understand?" He barked, towering over you.

"It's not a big deal." You tried to keep your composure, you didn't want to humiliate yourself further by bursting into tears.

"Not a big deal? You could've died! A simple mistake would have ruined the whole mission."

Don't cry. Don't cry.

"But we're all fine, aren't we?" You weakly chuckled. That was the wrong thing to say because it only made him angrier.

"Oh? If that's the attitude you have then you shouldn't even be on the team." Ouch.

"Miguel, I think that's enough-" Hobie said, quickly jumping in.

"Not now, Hobie." He growled.

Never once did you think that you'd be in a situation like this.

"If you put more focus on trying to be good at your job, rather than impressing me, we wouldn't even be here!" Oh, so he did notice that.

At this point, tears were streaming freely down your face and you made no attempt to stop them.

"Yep, you got it, boss." You smiled up at him through your tears. It was pathetic, but you did not care, you just wanted to leave and never come back.

"Next time make sure this doesn't happen."

"It won't happen next time." That's because there won't be a next time.

#📂 ‧₊˚ my works .ᐟ #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #spiderman x reader #spiderman #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #oscar isaac x reader #oscar isaac #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara angst

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kesujo · 5 days

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Obsessed

“Yo, you never told me you got a girl!”

“What are you—give that back! Who said you could look at my messages?”

“No no no, first explain this: ‘did you eat yet?’, ‘are you coming home late today?’, ‘who was that girl you were eating with?’—” You snatch the phone out of your friend’s hands, but he still recites the last message to you, “‘I’m sorry I couldn’t see you today. I miss you~’—”

Your heart skips a beat. “That’s—my aunt.”

“Yeah right—”

“She’s just been concerned for me after hearing that I moved out of my parents’ house recently.”

“…Is your relative a stalker?”

It’s a bad excuse and you know it, but that’s all you are willing to give your friend. After all, there is no way he will be more willing to accept the truth. Hell, you aren’t even sure you are more willing to accept the truth to even the flimsy, half-assed explanation you just provided him.

“You got a real cougar of an aunt.”

“No, she’s—” trying to conceal the actual message sender as your aunt is probably a futile effort, especially with that last message, but telling Beomgyu the truth is absolutely out of the question. “—she’s just worried for me.”

Your friend rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Not my problem if you’re not ready to reveal your relationship to even your best friend yet.”

“You know what, you’re free to believe whatever you wanna believe. I don’t care enough to try to change your mind.” That’s only partially true. What matters isn’t that Beomgyu thinks you have a girlfriend, but if he knows the identity of the girl in question. It’s a good thing you had the foresight to save her number with an innocuous name.

“You aren’t seriously going to tell me that you’re close enough to your aunt that you just call her ‘Ji’, do you?” Ok, maybe the name isn’t that innocuous.

“I was in a rush, ok? Plus, it doesn’t even matter what I save the names as, all that matters is I know who the number is.”

“Wait, what do you have me saved as?”

“‘Beom’.”

“Hmm…”

Beomgyu only pesters you half of the remaining meal, thankfully not catching the occasional glancing around of the restaurant you did. Maybe it’s paranoid of you, especially since it’s a normal weekday evening in a relatively crowded place, but you want to be on your toes at all times.

“Hey, you’re coming golfing with us next week, right?”

“We’ll see.”

“Date with your girl?”

You roll your eyes. “No, not a date with ‘my girl’. I’ll just have to see if I wanna go on the day.”

“Right.” The two of you stop at the intersection. “Well, have fun on your date.”

“It’s not a—” seeing the smirk on Beomgyu’s face makes you sigh. “Whatever. Yeah, I’ll have fun on my ‘date’.”

Not a few steps after you separate from him, an all-too-familiar voice whispers into your ear, “You’re going on a date?”

You try not to jump out of your skin as she wraps her arm around yours while seamlessly falling in perfect step with you. The playful manner in which she leans against you is sharply juxtaposed by the sharp, very pointedly upset tone she asked the question with.

You knew you weren’t paranoid to suspect she was nearby. But … where was she? You swear you did a pretty thorough visual sweep of the restaurant without landing on anyone who even remotely resembled her. Unless … did she wait outside the restaurant?

“No, I’m not—”

“Hey, kiss me first, or else people will get suspicious.”

“No, they won’t—” don’t get flustered, don’t get flustered, “—what are you talking about?”

You turn an exasperated expression towards Yu Jimin, who is shooting you a playful grin. However, as exasperated as you sound, your heart is beating a million times a minute. This isn’t even your first, or even tenth, encounter with her, but every single one is still as nerve-wracking as the last. “You never know.”

“I think I do, from the fact that you still somehow haven’t been exposed as an avid stalker of mine.”

“Never mind that,” In an instant, her expression changes, the playful grin disappearing from her face, “what about this date Beomgyu was talking about?” The duality of the two expressions makes your heart beat even faster, although this time for a slightly different reason.

“There’s no—” Have you ever introduced Beomgyu to Karina? Hell, have you ever even mentioned Beomgyu to her? “—date…”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Then…” Suddenly, her voice turns bashful. She slows down a bit, forcing you to do the same. “…do you want one?”

This is way too ridiculous. Truth is stranger than fiction, so they said. You don’t know who this ‘they’ character is, but you can’t agree more with that seemingly absurd statement.

“Aren’t you busy?”

“I can make myself free.”

“Don’t go pushing back another photoshoot or choreography practice for this.”

“…But it was definitely worth it…”

You scoff. “How?”

“Well, I got this picture of you!”

You look over and down at her phone to see what seemed like a perfectly normal picture of you standing between a few bookshelves at your local library looking down at the book in your hands. “That’s … it?”

“What do you mean ‘that’s it’?!” You jump at the sudden peaking of her voice, hurriedly looking around to make sure she hadn’t drawn any more attention than she needed to before turning back to her. “Look at how hot you look when you’re serious!”

You have absolutely no idea what Karina sees in you. As far as you’re concerned, you’re a perfectly normal guy. You aren’t even particularly good-looking, having only ever been in one relationship that lasted only the last year of high school. You’ve asked her before, and she said something about you ‘being her white knight in shining armor’ and how you had saved her in a ‘manga-like way’, but honestly, you have no recollection of such an event.

“Right…”

“I used this picture for at least two weeks straight.”

“You ‘used’…?” It doesn’t mean what you think it means. To save your own heart, you have to believe that. Otherwise… “By the way, you aren’t going to be following me all the way home, are you?” You pose the question already expecting an answer, so when she decides instead to remain quiet, you turn to her and follow up with, “…Are you?”

“…Can’t I?”

“What?” Breathe. Don’t panic. Be logical. And stop thinking about that. This is a bad thing. “No!” You make sure to manage the volume of your voice before continuing. “Of course not! Call your manager or something,” you hiss at her.

“Why nooot?”

Her pouting almost makes you cave, admit defeat, and agree to lead her back to your apartment. But… “You remember what happened last time, don’t you?”

“Well, nothing happened, right?”

You let out an exasperated sigh. You hastily shove aside the memory of what exactly happened last time. “Yeah, and we should be thankful that nothing happened.” When she doesn’t respond for another bit, you turn to her to see her cheeks slightly flushed. “Um…?”

“You said ‘we’.”

God, Karina is just so damn adorable.

“Jimin, I’m being serious here.” It turns out, that was the wrong play—whatever you said makes her flush even harder. “Now what?”

“You said my name~”

The exhale you let out contains a mixture of exasperation, sheer bewilderment, and most of all, a mask to hide how flustered you are. Her fangirling squeals are just too adorable to not smile at, so the best you can do to mask that is to turn your head away from her and shake your head.

“Look, I don’t want to be the one to call your manager again. So either you make the call, or I do.”

“Wait, no, just for a little bit!”

“That’s what you said last time, wasn’t it?”

“It’ll—”

“It’s not worth risking it. You have your entire idol career ahead of you, and I’m just some random nobody.”

“You aren’t a nobody!”

You nearly flinch at how loudly she asserts that. “Ka—shh, not so loud!” You have to whisper to her after Karina’s latest outburst draws the attention of some passersby.

“I won’t let you say you’re a nobody, ok?”

At that, a smile breaks out on your face. “Ah, right, ok, fine. Still, no matter who I am, it’s not worth it.”

“But—” she leans in close, an action that causes your already sky-high heartrate to shoot straight through the roof, “—that’s not what you said while you were destroying my pussy last time.”

Shit.

You had been hard at work trying to hold that memory at bay ever since Karina brought up the idea of returning to your apartment with you. The incident had shaken you up even more than that one time you nearly got run over by a car on your way back home from a college party; as if the idea that one of your favorite idols obsesses this hard over you isn’t fantastical enough, the idea that you had sex with her is on a whole other level of absurdity and fantasy that you frankly didn’t think collided with the real world.

“What are you saying out loud in public?” you reprimand her in a hushed voice.

“Don’t you want—”

Not knowing another way to silence the salacious celebrity, you tug at her arm to bring her closer to you so that you covering her mouth with your hand isn’t as obvious. “Please, please, not in public. People are already starting to look at us.” The subtle, tart, slightly fruity perfume you love wafts into your nose, the warmth of her body pressing up against you, a certain softness pressing against your chest, everything combined nearly drives you insane and even makes you a bit light-headed—but however flustered pulling the top-tier beauty close to you makes you, Karina herself is even more flustered. The tips of her ears are bright pink, as if she had dyed them a different color for some type of cosplay, her full, red lips spread out in a wide smile directed at her own feet, cheeks bulging out like a cute little squirrel trying to store a few too many acorns in her cheeks.

She’s too adorable. And beautiful. Holy shit is she gorgeous.

That’s the last indulgent thought of her you allow yourself to have before taking out your phone again. “I’m gonna call your manager now, ok?”

“Wait, noo~”

You pull away from her upon noticing how many more glances you two are starting to get, resuming your walk, this time to your apartment. At this rate, it seems like it’s only a matter of time before Karina is noticed, and if it’s a question between getting caught in public attached to the arm of some random guy and dealing with her in your apartment for the few minutes it took her manager to pick her up, the answer is obvious. All you have to do is to be more resilient than last time.

Part of you wonders if this is all your fault. Maybe your wishy-washy reactions to her behavior is what enables her continued stalking of you. Maybe, if you hadn’t been so receptive to all her advances, she would’ve eventually stopped this unhealthy, this dangerous habit.

“Are we going to your apartment now?”

“How—” you stop yourself short of asking the question. Previously, you were just randomly walking about with the express intent of not bringing her back to your place. How Karina instantly picked up on that fact right as you changed your mind is a question you probably don’t even want an answer to.

“Wait, I don’t think I’m ready yet.”

“…What?”

You watch her suddenly stop and pull out her phone to fix her bangs in utter bewilderment before promptly pulling her hastily along, whispering to her, “You can do that at my place. Do you want to be spotted?”

“But my bangs are so messy right now, I can’t go to your home looking like this…”

“But—” you stop for a brief second to look at her bangs. What about them looks messy? You shake the thought from your mind. “—what? But you were the one who suggested it in the first place.”

“I know, but…”

“Never mind, we should hurry.”

You’re avidly keeping your gaze forward, trying your best to shake off the feeling that the two of you are attracting the eyes of every single stranger you walk past. ‘Is that Karina?’, ‘What is she doing with him?’, ‘Is she secretly dating?’ – you don’t think you hear any particular voice whispering these words, but it manifests in your mind so strongly that it takes every ounce of your willpower to not turn your head and direct an accusatory gaze at every person you walk past. You’re too scared to pay closer attention to your surroundings anyway: what if you are actually right and people are identifying Karina? You figure hoping and praying that your paranoia remains just that is your best bet; after all, what else can you do? The rest of the walk home feels like the longest ten minutes of your life: with each minute that passes, you feel more and more antsy, and every pair of friends that walks past you two, your grip on Karina’s hand tightens, ready to bolt if they turn around to address her. It isn’t until you close the door to your apartment that you let out a breath of relief.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m in your apartment again!”

“Um, by the way…” Karina stops turning around whimsically like she’s a Disney Princess to look at you, causing a heap of self-consciousness for the question you want to ask to suddenly pile on. Is she going to get offended? To be fair, you had looked everywhere—the complex’s lost-and-found, under your bedframe, behind all the washing and drying machines, and still couldn’t find them.

“Hm?”

“Um—” Is this even important? Why are you asking this again? But as the seconds tick by, the pressure from her expectant gaze builds inside your head, like the staticky white noise from an old TV filling your mind. So, you steel your nerves and continue anyway, “—did you, by chance, steal some of my socks? The last time you were here?”

“Hmm?”

While her response is perfectly neutral, it still gives you cold feet. It is a good thing if this resulted in Karina being offended—you know that rationally, but emotionally, you don’t know if you can take knowing that one of your favorite idols hates you.

“My socks.” On the flip side, they aren’t even that important. Will she even find offense from your implication? This had been a mystery that bit at you for the past few weeks, and this is a chance to rid yourself of that nuisance. “Did you steal them last time you were here?”

“Socks? Hm…”

However, the more she ponders, the surer you become of your theory. “Uh…” at that revelation, you realize you don’t know what to feel. “Well, I mean, it doesn’t really matter, I guess…”

“Oh, really?!”

The amount of happiness and relief in Karina’s voice all but vaporizes any doubt in your mind that the culprit behind the mismatching socks in your drawer is, indeed, her. “They’re just socks, I can always get new ones, but, um, yeah.” Are you supposed to be honored that Karina even had the desire to steal your socks? Or is the appropriate reaction feeling creeped out that she stole them? Is there even an ‘appropriate reaction’ to your situation?

“In that case…” Karina sits down on the hardwood floor of the half-living room and as she reaches for her feet, your eyes land on the definitive proof that she was, indeed, the sock thief.

“Hey!”

“I was in such a rush the last time I didn’t check to see if they were matching, but now I wear them every time I come see you,” she explained, pulling them off her feet and showing them to you. “Can I trade one of them for the matching pair?”

“Why—you—how—” your brain is short-circuiting in its struggle to come up with a reasonable response, “—is it really—I mean—what—why?” You feel like a complete and utter idiot, but the visual proof of this ridiculous conspiracy theory you had concocted that had no right to hold a single drop of water throws you for a loop.

“They make me feel so much closer to you, and they’re also a souvenir from the first time I came here.”

Being reminded of that causes your face to explode like a steaming kettle, which incidentally also reminds you to message her manager. “Fine, you can go to my bedr—wait, no, actually, I’ll get the matching pair.” Halfway to your bedroom, you stop. What are you doing? Why are you interacting so much with your stalker? And why are you giving her your sock? “Actually, wait.” Turning around proves to be a mistake, as you are met with a giddy, excited Karina who is in the process of standing back up, and with her form-hugging outfit no longer hidden by her body-length trench coat, your brain malfunctions for a second.

“Hm?”

Shit. Don’t get distracted. This is why she’s still like this.

“Um, sorry, nothing—no, I mean, can you just give me back my socks?”

Karina frowns, taking a step back. “No!”

“Wha—” How are you even supposed to respond in this kind of a situation? Rationally, the answer is to report her to the police. But this is Karina of æspa. If news got out that she’s stalking someone, her reputation would go down the gutter and her career as an idol would suffer, and that is not something you want. “Um, please?”

“Then trade me something of equal value.”

“What? No, they’re my socks.”

“But I need them!”

It’s so difficult to argue with Karina, especially when her pouting lips, her drawn together eyebrows, her puppy dog eyes, everything about her is this adorable. “You need them…? For what?”

“They comfort me whenever I don’t get to see you for a long time.”

Honestly, you still don’t even know if you are dreaming. In a way, the only plausible explanation for how bizarre this conversation is that this is all a dream. “So, what do you want in exchange?”

“Maybe…”

Wait. Why are you offering to trade? Those socks are yours. You need to be harder on her, and not in that way. “Wait, no. Can I just have them back, please?”

“Another picture?”

“Really? Well—wait, no.” Damn it, why is it so easy to give in to her requests? “Don’t you have a lot of pictures of me already?”

“But I don’t have one of us together!”

You sigh, mostly to hide your embarrassment at the idea of taking a picture with Karina. It’s weird: one might think the relatively frequent close contact and interactions with the famous popstar trivializes the prospect of taking pictures with her, holding her hand, or even being near her, but it somehow doesn’t. “I need to text your manager first, give me a second.”

“Noo, doon’t~” You dodge her attempt to swipe your phone from you.

You’ve had meetings with your boss’s boss before, but this text message feels somehow even more anxiety-inducing. Karina is a top idol in the entertainment industry, and you are pretty much just an entry-level employee at some consulting agency: the worlds you live in can’t be more different. This isn’t about yourself or your anxiety, though: it’s about Karina and what’s best for her. It takes you barely a minute to send the text, by which time Karina has already given up trying to stop you.

“Well, now what?”

“We wait—” you divert your eyes as soon as they land on her shapely figure, outlined very nicely by the tight clothes she had chosen to wear that day, “—for your manager.”

“Well, what should we do while we wait?” The low, husky, seductive tone of voice sends a shudder up your spine.

“Nothing.”

That single word is all that you trust yourself to say before you escape to your bedroom, hoping she didn’t see the erection you tried hiding from her, and close the door before she has the chance to follow. “Just keep the socks, and please don’t steal anything else. I have, um, something to do.”

“Come on, we have a few minutes at least, right?”

You sink against the door, sitting on the other side of the closed wooden frame. You close your eyes and hold your head in your hands. Just plant your bum on the floor and your back against this door. That’s all you have to do.

“I bet I could get you to cum down my throat before I have to leave.”

The next moment, you find yourself back on your feet with your hands tightening around the doorknob. It’s that very moment that you freeze for a brief second. Whatever mystical force saves you from ripping the door from its hinges, whether it’s your inner conscious or God Himself, you thank it.

“Karina, please, just … wait there, ok?”

When there’s no response from the celebrity, you breathe a sigh of relief, going to your bed and plopping yourself down on it. A few seconds later, your phone buzzes—and you, without thinking, whip it out to open the message.

It’s a picture of Karina, devoid of all clothing, on your couch, the camera looking down at a packaged condom hanging out between her upward curling lips. Twin pairs of hardened nubs stood proudly away from her delectably bountiful bosom, her other hand buried between her milky white thighs.

“Fuck—” You recoil, nearly dropping the phone. The thing is, it isn’t even the first nude you had received from her, or even the fifth, but every time you had to fight the demons in your brain telling you to save it. And seeing that silver square dangling between those beautiful, soft, full, red lips refreshes the memory of the previous encounter: how amazing her lips felt, how unreal it felt to see Karina rolling the condom onto your cock … even the very fact she had one, hinting at either her intentions for today or that she’s always prepared tested the limits of your patience and self-control. What makes that worse is the teasing, playful message she sends with the erotic selfie: ‘Now do you wanna come out?~’

You shake your head, gritting your teeth and stalling for way too long before pushing your finger against the ‘delete’ button.

Yu Jimin, Karina, the leader of æspa, the object of lust and desire for men all over Korea—all over the world too, probably—who can’t even walk to the grocery store without dozens of articles and thousands of fans singing praises about how unrealistically gorgeous she is and how amazing her body’s proportions are, is in your apartment, sitting on your couch, fully naked. Touching herself.

What kind of insane are you to deny the open invitation to fuck her into next Tuesday?

‘Please stop doing that. It’s dangerous.’

After another solid minute of trying (and failing) to calm yourself down, you send the message. Even though the picture already vanished from your phone, the image is still so fresh in your mind you seriously consider jerking out a quick one.

‘If you want me to stop, then why don’t you come out here and make me?’

It goes without saying, but tugging your meat while you have a guest is terrible manners. Even if said smoking hot guest, who happens to be a stalker of yours, sends a second nude picture, this time with her legs spread further apart and the packaged condom resting on her thigh, a seductively winking at the camera while puckering those luscious, cherry lips of hers for the camera. Faintly, you swear you see a slight discoloring at the very intersection of her legs her hands are placed inside.

All you have to do is plant your face against your mattress and do nothing. Her manager is on her way. And when she arrives, the temptress will be taken away, and this increasingly daunting task, of giving in to sin, will similarly be whisked away.

But even with your eyes closed, the image of her beautifully soft curves you swear you can feel in the palms of your hands is burned in the backsides of your eyelids. Tempting as she is, sinful as she is, you stay glued to the bed. Remember what happened last time. A repeat of that is something I needed to avoid at all costs.

When your phone next buzzes, you ignore it. Even so, you can feel the tantalizing, magnetic pull of that phone, drawing your fingers to the phone’s screen to unlock it, like a siren singing out to a stuffy ship full of men who’ve had to sleep shoulder-to-shoulder with their compatriots.

“Are you really not coming out?”

Even her voice, alluring and captivating as it is, nearly peels you off your mattress like a true siren and to your bedroom door. But all you have to do is remember the repercussions from last time, the hell you went through, how much stress and anxiety you had during those few weeks, something you never brought up to Karina nor plan on ever doing. She stalks you like it’s her second job, but she is still your idol—you want her to be happy, and telling her the turmoil you underwent in part due to her definitely works against that goal.

In fact … would it make her so unhappy that she stopped stalking you?

“But last—” as you begin speaking, your throat closes, as if someone had magically taken away your ability to speak. As much as you can claim to not know why that is, saying so is to lie. Why you again and again fail to take decisive action to push Karina away, why your actions clash so much with your logical and rational thinking, is all very simple.

Logically, perhaps even morally, you know getting Karina to stop obsessing over you is the right thing to do, and all actions towards that goal ought to be taken. But … do you want that? Now that you know how it feels to have the attention of the idol you spent so much of your money and time on, going back to your boring old life is completely out of the question. You know that this isn’t good for Karina, especially because she’s an idol, but in the depths of your heart, you love how much she obsesses over you: as initially jarring it was to learn about the hundreds of photos she had of you, as startling it was to have her throw herself on you randomly as you walked down the street, all the attention she gives you and specifically you is… frankly, addictive. Sometimes, you wonder if Karina is more addicted to you than you to her.

“Hm?”

In the end, you plant yourself back onto your bed, saying, “Nothing.” You will do everything in your power to maintain the status quo. Attempting to deviate too far from it proved to be disastrous, so all you have to do is keep things the way it is. Stalker or not, keeping a healthy amount of distance is probably for the best, as idol and fan. That’s why you’ve never really asked her if she has romantic feelings for you. Ever since you found out that Karina has been stalking you, it’s been like this: Karina jumping over and over into the fires of controversy, and you barely being able to catch her and pull her away each time. You had already failed once, and you don’t intend to fail again—after all, if anything happens, it means that your time with Karina will come to an end.

Your time with Karina, or as a normal person might call it, ‘Karina stalking you’.

You always had the impression that most stalkers were mentally unwell. What, then, of a person who loves being stalked?

“Are you really going to pass up on—” A knock at the door interrupts her, and seeing that your most recent text is from Karina’s manager, you breathe a sigh of relief.

“That’s your manager. Better get going.”

A whine, and then, “Fine. But, if you ever—”

“Have a good day, Karina.”

Part of the reason you cut her off is to save yourself, as you don’t know if you can hear her utter another erotic word and maintain your self-control. The other is to, metaphorically, push her out the door. It’s only after a few seconds that you realize how curt you sounded, but there’s nothing that can be done at that point: maybe Karina taking it personally will be what’s best for her.

But the guilt makes you open the door regardless. “Hey, um—” By the time your eyes land back on Karina, she’s already putting on her coat. Her manager is also inside, standing at the doorway.

“Hi again, I’m so sorry for this, I’ll make sure to properly reprimand her.”

“Oh, it’s ok. As long as Karina’s safe, that’s all that matters.”

Her manager flashes a look of appreciation and empathy, turning back to her managee to say, “How many times have I told you to leave this poor man alone? Do you want to be all over the news tomorrow?”

“But you know how good I am at avoiding the press.”

“You can’t—” her manager sighs, turning to face you after opening the door one last time and saying, “—thank you so much for messaging me, I promise I’ll try to keep Karina on a tighter leash and cause you less trouble.”

You can’t very well say ‘it’s ok’ again, can you? It isn’t normal to simply be ok with this type of behavior, and you don’t want to give any hints to anyone at the deepest depths of your psyche, that you actually love that Karina is this obsessed with you. “Thank you,” is all you could muster. The last glance you share with Karina is all you need to know that you emerging from your bedroom was unnecessary after all; you were ready to give the excuse that you opened the door to let her manager in and apologize for being so cold in the meantime, but seeing her eyes beaming a smile at you reassures you that saying so isn’t needed.

You try to forget about it the rest of the day; when it comes time to sleep, however, no matter how hard you close your eyes and attempt to clear your mind, you can’t drift off. You had actually made it a point to try to avoid the couch, but your curiosity ultimately got the best of you: still, no matter how hard you looked, you still couldn’t find that one discolored patch you could’ve sworn you saw in the second picture. Not that you’re too upset about it or anything.

You probably need to wash those cushions soon.

You turn over, letting out another sigh.

God damn it, might as well.

After a quick few minutes, exhaustion takes ahold of you and darkness overtakes your conscious. When you next awaken, it’s still dark. You aren’t one to wake up much in the middle of the night, but even taking that fact into consideration isn’t the most startling thing. That belongs to the reason you had awoken: namely, the figure at the foot of your bed.

You dart a half-upright position. “What the fu —”

“It’s me.”

The shock is enough to blow away your sluggishness, but the voice clears your head of all the just-woke-up confusion and any semblance of drowsiness. “Ka … rina?”

As your eyes adjust to the dim light of your darkened bedroom, they land on the beaming smile she offers you. “Yeah!”

“What the hell—” you understand you should be more shaken, perhaps even terrified to some extent, but neither emotion wells up inside you. You know the ‘normal’ reaction is to be terrified of the person who broke into your house in the middle of the night, but some combination of being used to Karina being places she really shouldn’t be and having fantasized about this exact scenario before drifting off instead causes a burgeoning elation and excitement to bubble to the surface. “—what are you doing here?”

“Well, we have more time now, right?”

You sit up fully on your bed. “No. No, no no no.” Those emotions aren’t something you can let Karina know about, though. Maintaining the status quo and all. Who knows how she might react if she finds out your true feelings about her obsession with you? “What time is it right now?”

“Um, about 3am?”

“3—Go home! Get some sleep! What about your schedule for tomorrow?”

“No, tomorrow—today, actually, I have nothing.”

“Wha—” you stammer for a few seconds, your brain overloading with all the millions of questions and thoughts you have but unable to pick one. It eventually lands on the most obvious one. “—how did you even get in?”

“Your spare key.”

“My spare—” the spare key you left in your kitchen drawer, you imagine is what she’s talking about. She must’ve found it while you had locked yourself in your bedroom.

In the nude? Was she walking around your apartment completely naked?

You shake your head, clearing the thought from your mind. “—um, can you give that back?”

“Aww, whyy~?”

Karina claims to be bad at doing aegyo, but why is she so damn adorable when she whines and pouts like that?

“Please?”

“Then, I’ll trade you.”

The first time you tried to resist her trade offer that day—the previous day, technically—it failed spectacularly. It’s ridiculous to have to trade to acquire something that was stolen from you, but you understand she isn’t going to give it back so easily. “Fine. For what?”

“The spare key…” a mischievous glint in her eyes is noticeable even in the dark. The pit of your stomach drops upon seeing it. “…for—”

“No.” You cut her off before she can finish. Seeing that expression in her eyes is evidence enough of what her next word will be. And hearing that word coming from her mouth is the last thing you need at the moment: your heart is beating ten million miles a minute, your attempt to mask it with a cold, emotionless response being your only barrier between the status quo and Karina’s desires.

“How amazing your cock felt stirring up my insides was something I couldn’t forget.” Unfortunately, that barrier is a flimsy piece of paper and Karina is a barreling, runaway train. “How about you? Do you remember how my pussy felt?”

“No, please, Karina—”

She throws aside your blanket and seats herself on the edge of your bed, tenderly placing a hand on your leg. “Are you sure?”

Your breath hitches at that slight bit of contact. It’s ridiculous; after all the close-quarters contact you’ve had with her, after having had sex with her, you still act like a pure maiden at even the slightest bit of physical contact. “Karina, I’m serious. You need to go home, before I have to contact your manager—”

“With what phone?” Your eyes bulge out upon seeing the phone Karina is waving at you—your phone.

“Give that back—” you swipe at her hand but miss, the phone being pulled out of your grasp just in time. “—Karina…”

“How about this: I find out if you actually remember last time, and if I find out that you’re telling the truth, then I’ll give you back your phone.”

“No! It’s my phone—” the tips of your ears burst in a cloud of steam when you feel Karina’s hand slide up your leg, getting closer to the erection that you hope the dark veil of the night is adequately hiding. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you continue, “—can I please have it back?”

“Then you shouldn’t be afraid to let me check, should you?”

That is something you need to avoid at all costs. “Damn it, Jimin.” You lurch forward, grabbing one arm while the other reaches past her and snatches the phone from her hand. “You can’t just—” Why was that so easy? Was she not resisting—

Turning to make eye contact with her, her face mere centimeters from your own, turns out to be the worst possible thing you could’ve done in that situation.

In an instant, Karina is laying down on the bed you were sleeping on just moments ago, her hips straddled by your legs.

“J-Jong—!”

“You goddamn slut.” The words come out of your mouth before you can even fully process what you had just done to her. It feels like you are being possessed by some kind of carnal beast, but you don’t even know if you hate it. After all, being the passenger to this beast lets you see the mixture of red-eared embarrassment and lip-quivering, eye-twinkling lust of the one who had awakened it. On the stage, Karina dominated the cameras and the audience with her powerful stage presence, but in bed, you dominate her with a mere touch. The normally charismatic popstar is reduced to nothing but a whimpering, wanton woman by your fingers. “Breaking into my apartment in the dead of a night for a booty call?”

Seeing the arousal deepen in Karina’s eyes and seeing her legs squeeze together in your peripheral vision invigorates the beast. “I-I’m sorry…”

Your first time in this very bed flashes in your mind: how she obeyed your every whim, the submissive way she responded after you had thrown away all semblance of consideration for her when your lust reached a breaking point, how she shifted from demanding to demure the instant you used any kind of force on her—“I gotta wake up in a few hours for work, how are you gonna make that up to me?”—the feeling you got after fucking her for the first time, how learning that Karina was a power bottom made you even more addicted to Karina than you had already been, it all came to a head at that very moment.

“I’ll—I’ll relieve all your stress.”

With how forceful Karina is normally, you sometimes wonder if your interpretation of the singer at the time was correct. Maybe you were taken by the moment, or maybe she was just putting up an act?

“Channel the frustration you feel that your boss only ever assigns you too many or not enough tasks, the annoyance you feel that your favorite ramen place is closed due to construction, the disappointment and concern that your stocks haven’t been doing well recently…”

But seeing her laying below you, chest heaving and eyes sparkling with excitement, you know that you were right on the mark.

“Vent out all your pent-up emotions into me.”

You don’t seem to care how she knows about your grievances with your work, your favorite ramen place being closed, or your stock portfolio; all you seem to care about is the beautiful platter Karina is serving herself to you with.

“This is what you wanted all along, wasn’t it?” Now that you are sufficiently close, you can see that her outfit is decidedly different than what she had been wearing before; while the previous outfit showed off her curves beautifully as it was, the top she is wearing now shows so much cleavage, it leaves practically nothing to the imagination. It might’ve been a trick of the light, but you swear you can see little bumps where her nipples should be through the clothing. “You came here with half your tits exposed like this?”

“No, I took off my coat.”

Your eyes briefly glance to the side, quickly finding a rather thick leather coat laying on the floor next to the bed.

“That’s it?” Karina nods. “And you didn’t even, for a second, think about what would happen to you if some drunk guy saw you with such a slutty outfit on?”

“I-I’m sorry!”

“What if someone saw this sorry excuse for clothes you have—” your fingers curl around the deep neckline of the top and pull it down, causing her bountiful bosom to pop out. You’ve seen them plenty of times already, in person once and in pictures numerous times, but every time you are completely enthralled by them. Watching the perfectly round, plush mounds bounce around a few times in a triumphant cry out for their freedom, zeroing in on the palm-sized light pink areola surrounding her even pinker nipples, swollen and erect and begging to be squeezed— “and decided they wanted to have their way with you?”

Karina doesn’t respond with an apology, but with a moan, in response to your hands taking the hefty mounds of fat and rolling its marshmallowy texture in your knuckles. You had never been with a woman so well-endowed and had no idea they could be this fun to knead and roll until the last time you had this pleasure.

“You’re an idol, have some degree of self-preservation, wouldn’t you?”

The seriousness of the concern dissipates with every squeeze and every roll of her nipples between your fingers. “J-Jong…”

“Is that even a concern? Maybe you’d like that, being bent over some random alleyway, taking some stranger’s cock inside your pussy?”

Just the thought of that makes you tense up, causing Karina to yelp at the sudden pinch you give to her nipples. “N-No! I only want yours!”

You can feel your manhood straining against your boxers, a well of lust and desire stirring up inside you. As repulsive as the thought of Karina being raped is, some sick part of you decides it’s also hot, adding self-directed rage to the hodgepodge of confusing emotions inside you. “Do you even know how fucking irresistible you are?”

Karina shakes her head, perhaps sensing the bits of frustration and worry in your voice. “N—I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking about that…”

“Then what were you thinking?”

Although her eyes were downcast with guilt, her cheeks were still flushed, breath hitching at every kneading and massaging motion of your hands on her tits. “I—I was just, I was just really horny and wanted to feel you between my legs and messing my insides up so much that I couldn’t think about anything else.”

You of course know the prevalence of stalker fans—sasaeng fans—in KPop. The infamous case of Nayeon’s stalker, who had a delusion that she reciprocated the twisted kind of love he harbored for her, among various other cases, driven by the marketing strategy of the entertainment labels preying on the loneliness of a population of young adults starved for human connection, is all too familiar with you. There seems to be a new story in the news about an idol being harassed by sasaeng fans every week, but it was just that: news. It has as much connection to you as everything else that appears in the news, all the reported murders and celebrity drama and the like. A stalker is as mystical of a person as a serial killer: you know they exist, but you feel like you don’t truly understand the depths of their depravity.

So this is the result of fucking your stalker, huh?

That thought breaks you out of your lustful stupor, a moment of clarity dissipating all the sexual desire building up inside you.

Karina became so horny that she pretty much risked her life, walking out in public in the middle of the night with such a skimpy outfit hidden beneath a single coat, to do this.

“Hm? … What’s wrong?”

Her obsession with me completely disabled her reason and logical thinking. Her, a woman, an idol, did something so brazen and irresponsible and dangerous…

“J-Jong—…what’s wrong?”

…and it’s all my fault. If I didn’t respond so favorably to all her advances, she wouldn’t be doing such stupid, dangerous things.

“Jong—”

“Karina.”

“Hm?!” You pushing yourself off Karina causes her to jump a little, herself following suit and sitting up so that she could better look you in the eye.

“Why did you do something so dangerous?”

“What? What do you mean?”

“I’m serious.” You almost can’t bring yourself to maintain eye contact, but you force yourself to. “You know how dangerous it is for a woman, much less an idol, to be walking around in the middle of the night, right?”

Karina, undergoing serious whiplash from the prurient way you were speaking to the dangerously calm and serious tone you’re using, stammers helplessly. Eventually, she lands on, “…I wasn’t thinking about that. I’m sorry.”

“You need to. Your safety is always the most important thing.”

“I know—”

“As your fan, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I read in the news that you were assaulted while walking around in the middle of the night. And it would be even worse if I realized it was because you were walking to my apartment.” That last bit is an indulgent, selfish thing to say, you realize that, but you can’t help it. Perhaps if you make it about yourself, Karina will absorb what you’re trying to say better.

“…I’m sorry…”

Hearing her soft, defeated response and seeing the clear guilt in her eyes shatters your heart a little. “Damn it,” you mutter to yourself, sighing and turning your eyes back onto her, “Karina, I…” You wonder if this is what being Karina’s manager feels like. At times, it feels like you care more about her reputation as an idol than she does herself, and that’s very worrying. It’s this one thing lingering in the back of your mind that prevents you from fully enjoying the ridiculous situation the two of you are in. As many benefits there are to being Karina’s obsession, as much as you love the attention Karina gives you, in your heart of hearts, you know this can only end one of two ways: either Karina gets discovered as a stalker of one of her fans and suffers serious and irreparable damage to her reputation, or you push her away and she ends up hating you. The third option is that she gets tired of stalking you, which, with respect to everything that’s happened, seems the least likely scenario to occur. And, when you think about that, you sometimes end up wishing that this whole situation never happened: because you don’t have the strength of mind to do what it takes to get Karina to stop, but in doing so, are enabling her to continue ruining her life.

“…I don’t think—”

“If I promise to start prioritizing my safety, can you reward me?”

“Uh—” to be honest, something like this doesn’t fall within your expectations. “Um…” but, if you are to enable Karina in any way, then shouldn’t you use this power for her own good, whenever possible? “…Yeah.”

Karina beams at you. “Ok! Then, for every week I stay out of trouble with the media, I get one reward from you.”

You don’t know where this is going, but if Karina pulling her top back up and over her bosom is any indication, it doesn’t mean what you think it might mean. “…‘Reward’…?”

Instead of answering right away, Karina swings her leg to the other side of your body, and before you know it, Karina is straddling your lap. “You.”

So, it was what I was thinking.

You feel your heart revving back up. “But—” she pauses. “—then, every week?”

This causes her to stop and think. “Then, every month?”

Frankly, you don’t really feel like you’re in a situation to say ‘no’. If you do, worse things might happen. “Fine.”

She beams at you. “Great! Now, I’ll be claiming my reward now~”

Wait. What did I just agree to?

“Wai—” a moan interrupts you as Karina’s hand reaches down to cup your growing erection.

Your breath hitches. “You’re hard,” she notes, teasingly, to you.

“Karina…”

“Call me ‘Jimin’.”

“…What?”

“Come on~”

Karina barely has to convince you before you buckle. “Fine, Jimin.” Her jubilant squeal puts a smile on your face.

“Jonghyun!”

The exuberant way she responds with your name, the smile on her lips and in her eyes, how can you not let out a chuckle? “Hm?”

“Jonghyun! Jonghyun, Jonghyun, Jonghyun!”

For a moment, you forget the precarious situation you are in. For a moment, it feels like Karina is your girlfriend, and you two have just taken a step towards deepening your relationship.

“What is it, Jimin?”

When you say her name, her smile grows wider and the slight hue of pink on her cheeks suddenly become noticeable.

“Are you ready, Jonghyun?”

Feeling her palming the tension in your crotch brings you back to reality, in which your favorite idol is straddling your lap, leaning over enough to give you an eyeful of her plunging cleavage while her hands rubs your arousal.

“God…”

Hearing you moan, Jimin’s smile sparkles with a mischievous glint. “Does that feel good, Jonghyun?”

“You know what would make it feel better?”

Without missing a beat, her fingers curl around the hem of your boxers and pulls them down. Out springs your confined penis, which the topless beauty takes a second to marvel at before gingerly wrapping her fingers around the veiny, pulsating shaft.

“It’s so warm…”

You let out a hiss, ecstasy shooting up your spine at the sensation of her soft fingers gently squeezing your cock.

“Fuck, Jimin…”

She slowly begins pumping your member, but more so out of amazement than from a desire to make you feel pleasure. Her eyes are zeroed in on the dick that both of her hands are moving up and down on, her breath deepening as precum begins to leak out of your tip and onto the sides of her index finger.

“Wow, you smell so good…”

You remember her saying that quite often last time and honestly didn’t know what to make of it. You don’t use cologne or ball toner or anything; sure, you make sure to wash and keep your loins relatively clean, but it’s been a while since you shaved down there. What could she possibly like about your scent?

“It’s so hot…”

“Fuck you’re hot.”

Jimin, in a trance-like state, watches her hands pump your cock with such laser-focus that she doesn’t respond to your reply, nor does she react to your feet making contact with her sides. As your erection grows in Jimin’s firm grip, her breathing also deepens, her chest heaving with every increasingly heavy breath she takes. Her tongue occasionally darting out to wet her luscious, red lips, her barely blinking eyes unmoving from your crotch, her hands carefully rubbing your entire length with every pump, the rise and fall of her tits hovering above your legs, the sight of her practically worshipping your cock makes you forget every inhibition you had about this.

“Hmmm…” Your breathing deepens and your arousal grows, but it’s all cut short when she abruptly stops. Before you can question her, she lets out a, “fuck,” under her breath.

You had barely ever heard Jimin swear. Whether it’s because she wants to uphold an image around you, or because of her Catholic upbringing, or for some other reason, even the first time you two fucked, she didn’t swear at all. So, this time, when you hear her swear, you do a double-take, wondering if you’re hearing that correctly.

“Jimin?”

“I can’t take it anymore.”

She suddenly rises up from her crouching position into a kneeling position and pulls her shorts off. The moonlight streaming in the window of your bedroom frames her body perfectly, highlighting the same curves you fantasized about a few hours ago, and crucially, revealing the reason for her sudden explosion of frustration: even in the dim moonlight, you can see that her panties are soaked.

“I need you so bad, Jonghyun.”

In the next second, you’re hovering over her, her legs threaded between your kneeling ones. The intensity of your stare makes Jimin squirm, but you can’t help it: she looks so damn sexy.

“Please, Jonghyun.”

Hearing the plea snaps you out of the daze Jimin’s aroused expression entrapped you in. “So needy.” Your hands go to the intersection of her legs, your index finger tracing the outline of her skimpy underwear. “And so wet.”

It was only a single digit, but it’s enough to make the idol shudder. You can see her body tensing the closer your finger gets to her sex, and feeling that power makes you grin.

“Ooh, oh my…”

Jimin lets out a whine as you lift your drenched index finger off her. As you lift it closer to your face, you see her eyes trained on that finger, so instead, you lean over and offer it to her. Without hesitation, she parts her lips, and you direct that finger into her waiting mouth.

“Fuck…” The feeling of her plump lips wrapping around the base of your finger and her tongue wrapping around its length adds to the sexiness of the sight. “…that’s so fucking hot.” The brief reprieve from earlier had reigned in the beast that had awoken inside you, but now, you can feel a tension building deep within your chest, like a depleting patience meter that would break free the carnal beast’s shackles.

You pull your finger out of her mouth, planting it on her clavicle and running it down her sternum. A silver trail of saliva follows your finger up and around her breasts, an action that causes Jimin to shudder and whine a little bit more, before they find their way back to the panties absolutely drenched in her juices.

“Jonghyun, oh my God…”

You raise an eyebrow at her. “Using your Lord’s name in vain?”

Jimin’s eyes go wide, vehemently shaking her head. “No! I’m sorry, I didn’t—” her breath hitches, letting out a yelp as you suddenly press your index and middle finger against the clothed slit. Her entire body jumps, as if an electric current ran through her body.

“Naughty, naughty girl.”

As your two fingers rub against her moist heat, Jimin’s reactions become more erratic, her cries more desperate. “Please, oh my God, Jonghyun!”

“Oh my God, what?”

The more pressure you apply to the damp piece of cloth, the louder Jimin’s moans get. “I-I need you—” she lets out a shrill yelp when your thumb accidentally brushes up against the swollen, sensitive nub sitting atop her labia. “—need you, you, inside!”

You can tell Jimin is slowly losing her mind with your teasing, and honestly, so are you. With every sensual sound the singer emits, with every jerk of her body, you can feel your breath grow heavier and something twisting inside your chest. As much discomfort that twisting gives you, you can’t help but revel in seeing Jimin getting more and more impatient, watching her writhe and wiggle at your every touch. This sense of control and power is something that you thrive on.

“Hm? What was that?”

“Ah, aah!” Jimin’s body tenses up again as your thumb ‘accidentally’ flicks her clothed clit. “Jonghyun, please!”

You’re getting impatient too. Your cock is straining against your waist, so much that it almost hurts, but you continue rubbing her clothed sex with your two digits. The more you hold yourself back, the better the reward is.

“Please what?”

But there’s something else in that.

“Please, please, your—your cock—ah!” Your thumb very purposefully presses her pleasure button, causing a jolt to be sent into Jimin’s body. The grin on your face widens. “—your cock, I need it, need it, inside me!”

The longer you keep her on the edge like this, the more you tease her, the more she’ll want you. The more she’ll savor the feeling of your dick filling her wanting, needing pussy up, and the more obsessed she’ll become with you.

When she begins bucking her hips to meet your fingers, you pull back. “Mm mm~” you say in a teasing, singsong voice. “Naughty girl.” In Jimin’s eyes are desire and lust, even more than before. Your fingers pressing against her undergarments draw out more impatient whines, but this time, her body obediently doesn’t jerk into them. “Tell me how badly you want it.”

“I—I’m, I’m burning up, my whole body is so hot…” she lets out a gasp as your fingers hook around the thin material of her panties, which transforms into something between a sigh and a moan as you push the sopping wet piece of lingerie down her slim, silky-smooth legs. You take a moment to savor that feeling: her leg muscles are toned, but her skin is soft and smooth. Just feeling it against your fingers is paradise, but for Jimin, it only drives her further off the edge. “It—It hurts, Jonghyun, it hurts…”

You snap out of it, stopping immediately to look up at her. “What? Sorry, what hurts?”

Unexpectedly, Jimin’s face turns an even brighter red at the question. “…it.” Her gaze falling on her legs make you, at first, panic even more, thinking she was somehow indicating her discomfort with you taking her panties off. “My … it.” When she repeats those words, you come to realize what she means.

But, just to make sure…

“Your what? What hurts?”

“D-Don’t tease me!”

You hide the grin threatening to spill onto your lips. “If you don’t tell me what hurts, I won’t be able to help you, Jimin.”

“Jonghyun…” You continue pushing the undergarments off her legs, and by the time they make it past her feet, she kicks it off. “…ah, ah, oh my—”

Her voice becomes breathy as you push her legs apart, her voice raising an octave when your fingers rub against her pink folds, sticky from the excess of her honey. You can hear how crazy the direct contact makes Jimin, and it sends you into a frenzy. “Fuck, you’re so wet.” More than being impatient, it isn’t simply a desire anymore: it was a need.

“Jonghyun~” Her back arches when you stick your two longest digits straight into her inferno, eliciting a high-pitched squeal. “Oh!”

“You like that?”

Jimin nods her head fervently, as if possessed by some lascivious ghost. “More!” You can start seeing the sweat gleaming off her brows. “Pl-Please!”

“You love feeling me inside you?”

The fiercer your fingers, the louder Jimin moans, and the more her back arches off the bed, and the harder your dick becomes.

“Yes! Oh my God, yes!”

You can feel how tight her pussy is, even around your two digits, but are still caught off guard when she succumbs to an orgasm after you slam your thumb against her clit.

“Jongh—” the first spurt of liquid sprays onto your wrist, and before you even have the chance to react, the next lands on your face, drawing a diagonal line from your left eye, across your nose, and to your right cheek. “—oh, oh my, oh, fuck!”

The singer continues to spray her nectar all over your arm, torso, face, and neck, convulsing against the bed, her body wracked with an overwhelming ecstasy that causes the bed to creak at the uncontrolled vibration of her body.

“Holy…”

Seeing Jimin’s reaction, you stop for a moment. You aren’t this good … so what caused this? Is this just from all the foreplay you were doing? Or maybe she’s just this horny?

“Ah, ah…” Jimin’s climax begins to subside, her back meeting the bed once again, but far from a look of content washing over her face, her eyes lock onto the rock-hard cock attached at your hips with an insatiable hunger. “Jonghyun…”

You can see the lust lingering in her eyes, even as she basked in the afterglow of her orgasm, and that’s enough to bring you back into it. “Naughty girl. Who said you could cum before me?”

Her breath hitches again as you start aligning your cock to her core, poking at her inner thigh. “I-I’m sorry, oh my…”

“You were so horny, you came from just my fingers.”

“Jonghyun…” The tip of your penis makes contact with the sopping wet sex of the idol singer, causing her to let out another gasp in response. “…oh, oh God…”

“Are you sure you can handle this, then?”

Jimin only answers with encouraging moans, her gaze locked fiercely onto your dick as it nears her entrance. You can feel the tension building inside her, the anticipation in her clenched fists and her curled toes, her lips parted and letting out little puffs of sighs and gasps. When you look up to meet her gaze, it becomes evident she simply didn’t hear you, so laser-focused on your cock that every other sense is rendered inert.

“Can you, Jimin?”

Hearing her name snapped her out of her trance. “Hm? Sorry, what?”

In that brief moment when her concentration shifts is when you strike. Barely able to hold onto your own senses at that point, you let go of every semblance of self-control, mercilessly driving your cock as deep as you can inside her.

The resulting screaming moan erupting from Jimin’s throat is so loud, you’re momentarily snapped out of your lustful stupor in concern for your neighbors. After settling the matter quickly by reconciling the impossibility of identifying Karina of æspa with just a muffled moan, you turn your attention back to the wet, sticky, hot grip Jimin’s pussy is exerting onto your dick.

“Jong—jong—jo-nng, hnng…” her words melt into meaningless sounds and lewd noises the deeper you push yourself into her. You, yourself, feel like you’re melting into her; not even a few seconds in and it already feels like your shaft is being lathered on all sides by some warm, viscous fluid, in thanks both to her prior orgasm and how tightly her drenched walls are hugging your cock. Whereas normally, the slimy feeling on your privates might’ve been repulsive, knowing it’s a product of Jimin’s lust for you turns that into arousal.

“Shit…”

The sight before you is frankly, utterly unbelievable. It’s already unbelievable enough that this isn’t the first time you’ve seen her naked, and it’s even more unbelievable that this isn’t the first time you’re fucking her, but seeing her splayed before you, her eyes shut but her eyebrows furrowed and her lips parted with her tongue threatening to haplessly loll out, the hypnotic swaying motion of her breasts heaving in accordance with her breath, her arm muscles tensed and her fingers curled into tight fists, her beautifully smooth and pale skin illuminated perfectly by the moonlight streaming from the window of your bedroom, her cute belly button and a little further south, in which your cock was firmly wedged between her slim, silky legs, makes you even harder, painfully so. You can feel a familiar sensation welling up deep inside your loins.

“God, fuck, Jimin…”

The pistoning motion of your cock prevents Jimin from forming full words, reduced to letting out half-words and squealing moans. You can feel bits of her juices landing on your groin with every thrust, the squelching noise of your connection and the warm air quickly filling with the musk of sex stimulating your senses even more. You don’t think it is possible to get even more horny after finally fulfilling Jimin’s desire of being filled up with you, but, in hindsight, there simply wasn’t a way for that not to happen.

“Jo-Jong—Jonghyun!”

The first time Jimin manages to get out a full word is what snaps you out of the trance you were in, mesmerized by the back-and-forth swaying of her tits while pushing yourself inside her again and again.

“Is this what you wanted?”

The enthusiasm of Jimin’s nodding might’ve seemed hyperbolic if you didn’t feel her legs wrapping around your waist, squeezing you closer to her in perfect synchronicity with your thrusts.

“It—yes!”

You can feel the poor bed frame shaking and faintly, you can hear it squeaking under your vigorous motions, but you pay it no heed. Your mind is overloading with ecstasy, barely able to focus on anything but the sensual, screaming seductress underneath you. You can feel your body moving, and hers in sync with you, your cock unrelenting on its assault on Jimin’s pussy.

Why did you deny yourself this for so long?

“How horny must you have since entering my room to become such a shameless slut, huh?”

Jimin shakes her head. “N-No, sin-since—” her words transform into a moan, her back arching off the bed again. The motion inadvertently, or perhaps very intentionally, pushes out her delectable rack, and like opposite poles of a magnet, your hands are drawn to her round, perky tits. “—since—ahn!” An adorable squeal erupts from her lips when your hands reestablish contact with her breasts. You are listening to Jimin, you swear, and had a hunch that this would disrupt her from giving you an answer to your inquiry, but you can’t help grabbing them as much as a droplet of water can’t help falling down a waterfall. Even watching the squishy, plush skin giving way to your kneading and squeezing motions is addicting in and of itself, but feeling its softness … it’s a wonder how you were able to restrain yourself hours before. But now that you’re this far, you can feel that burgeoning feeling in your nethers expanding, as if about to burst. Gritting your teeth and increasing the strength of your squeezing is all you can do to hold it back; while you want to continue indulging in the heavenly feeling of Jimin’s hot, tight walls rubbing against your dick, this very action is what’s causing the impending climax to loom over you. It’s a serious dilemma: the more you indulge more in Jimin’s pussy, the sooner it’ll come to an end. So, what should you do?

The solution you find is within your grasp: instead of focusing on that, focusing on Jimin’s rack, you find, extends the time you have left. “So heavy. It’s only fitting such a blatant harlot like you has such massive tits, isn’t it?” Your fingers softly squeeze her nipples, and a louder squeal splits the warm, musky air. You can see her body tense up in reaction to it, and also feel it: her pussy squeezes your cock shortly after, causing a groan to tumble out your lips. That tension threatens to unravel, but you push it down at the last second. Now that you are actually fucking her, enjoying this for as long as possible is the primary thing on your mind.

“—I was horny ever since entering this apartment earlier today.”

Jimin pushed the words out of her mouth in rapid-fire, but clearly enough for you to understand.

Oh.

…

Oh.

No wonder she came here in the dead of night with such a form-fitting outfit. No wonder she came so quickly to just your fingers. No wonder her face is so flushed, and why she looks like she’s in heat, why her facial expression and her body language—why everything about her screams ‘I need to be bred by you. Now.’

For a moment, you wonder how you��d feel if you were blue-balled for hours and hours on end. How excruciating that would be. How desperate you’d be to find reprieve. Maybe she had even masturbated, maybe even a few times, before coming here. And, while you were able to relieve yourself, Jimin seemingly wasn’t. Assuming she did try, it clearly didn’t work. And, so, at the end of her rope, she jumped out of bed, dressed herself like this, and walked over to your apartment.

“Fuck.”

With that knowledge, everything seems to change. Amidst the pleasure and ecstasy Jimin is drowning in, you can see the relief hidden in her face. Mixed in with her pants and moans and squeals and ecstatic screams are traces of a long-awaited contentment. And to know that it is you who caused it, to know that it is you that the Jimin laying before you obsessed so hard over, and now it is your cock granting relieve to the pussy aching to be fucked but getting no reprieve for hours and hours on end, pushes you damn near the edge.

“Fuck.”

Jimin can feel the increased vigor of your motions, too, and responds in kind. Her hands are now gripping your bedsheets, her heels digging into the soft mattress she was laying on, doing anything and everything to keep her body from flying off. The wooden frame of your bed shakes with the cadence of your synchronized movements, its headboard lightly banging against the wall it’s propped against.

“I’m close, Jimin.”

She, on the other hand, isn’t able to share a similar warning. “Jong-Jonghyun, ah, I’m sorry—!” The first torrent, again, catches you off guard, spraying all over your groin and abdominal area, as well as her own legs and stomach. “—oh—” Her body vibrates even more violently than before, her eyes rolling to the back of her head, completely and utterly succumbing to the ecstasy wracking her body. “—it’s so—” Her vigorous reaction to her climax stimulates you even further, the jerking motion causing the tension you were so desperately trying to hold back to explode. “—nng, oh my—” But looking at her tensed facial features, listening to her alluring voice shaking in unintentional vibrato, feeling her convulsing walls squeezing your cock in a rolling motion, as if attempting to coerce your seed out, it’s only a matter of time. “—fuck!”

Hearing that, the rare swear out of the mouth of the Catholic girl, does it. You yell at her one final time, a barely coherent string of nearly meaningless words, before you bury yourself as far as you can reach inside her and unleash everything.

“A-Ah!” Your hot, sticky seed shoots straight into her womb, each rope of semen splattering against her insides causing her to flinch a little. “Oh, ah, so hot!” It’s only then that you finally remember: you don’t have a condom on.

“Wait, fuck—” But it’s too late. Jimin’s legs are wrapped tightly around your back, trampling any ideas of pulling out.

“So hot, oh, oh God—”

“N-No, no, Kari—Jimin!” You try anyway, reaching back in a vain attempt to peel her legs off you. Whether the reason for it is that you don’t have the strength or you don’t put enough into it is barely a question: your hips keep bucking into her viscously, every audible, wet clapping sound of your balls against her ass moistened with her own ejaculate sending shockwaves of pleasure into you. “Damn it—” your words are drowned out by Jimin’s orgasmic moans, her climax extended by the abrupt intrusion of your seed her pussy was so desperately trying to milk out.

You don’t even realize the fact that you’re using Jimin’s boobs as a handle while you ride out your orgasm with her until it subsides and the tension in your hands relax.

“Jonghyun…”

You take a few moments to catch your breath, all your strength suddenly having left your body. You can barely keep yourself upright, and almost slipping from pushing against the smooth, buttery texture of her boobs is what makes you realize what you’ve done. You lift your eyes, and, surely enough, her otherwise pink areola is a noticeable shade darker.

“Damn it, fuck…”

Your refractory period is hitting you, hard, so when Jimin smiles and pulls you onto her chest, you don’t retaliate. With your cock still wedged deep inside her, it isn’t even given a chance to soften—still, not even the pillowy feeling of her bosom against your cheeks is enough to grant you the strength to immediately go again.

“I can feel it inside me, Jonghyun~” At first, you figure she’s referring to your cock. “It feels so warm, and so full…” Then, you realize she’s talking about something else.

You dart up, trying to push yourself off her but being stopped by her legs. “Shit—”

“Hm?” Your sudden actions startle Jimin, whose facial expression transforms from contentment to concern. “What?”

“No, shit—”

“Jonghyun? What’s wrong?”

Even the worried look on Karina’s face is beautiful, and heartwarming to an extent, but the fact that she’s more concerned about your sudden outburst than the fact that you just came in her extinguishes those feelings.

“Karina, you—”

“Jimin.”

“—shouldn’t—” the way she can pout so adorably, even fully in the nude, with your cock stoppering her pussy, stuns you for a second. “—you shouldn’t have let me cum inside.”

“Why not?”

You can only guffaw at that. “What? Because you can get pregnant!”

“I’m on the pill! It’s ok!”

Hearing that relieves you, but only slightly. “But—I mean, what if I have an STD?”

“Well, you didn’t give me one the last time. Unless—” her eyes darken, and a shudder runs up your spine, “—you’ve had sex with another girl in the meanwhile?”

“No! I—” you force yourself to pause. Any fear the look on Karina’s face inspires in you isn’t the main issue. “—the point is, you should’ve stopped me first. It’s always better to be safe than—” you’re interrupted by your own grunt in response to Karina’s legs squeezing you, causing your cock to twitch inside her. “—fuck—first of all, let me go.”

At this, she frowns. “No!”

“Karin—”

“Jimin!”

You sigh. “Fine. Jimin, please, let me go.”

“But you’re still so hard! And I’m not satisfied yet!”

You can feel your exhaustion from the refractory period starting to wear off, and you know if you’re still connected to her by the time that expires, that can only spell out more disaster. Glancing at the redness on her breasts, you grimace again. “Jimin, I’m tired. I have to get up early tomorrow for work. Please?”

Thankfully, she relents. You breathe a sigh of relief, extracting yourself from her. As you’re putting your boxers back on, you hear Karina let out a grimace of her own, and in your peripheral vision, you can see why: trickles of your creampie are leaking out her hole.

You avert your eyes before the sight fully stiffens you up again. “You can go clean up in the bathroom.”

“I don’t want to.”

You blink. “What?”

“I don’t want to,” she repeats.

“But—” you stammer for a few seconds, realizing for the umpteenth time that you have no idea how this KPop superstar’s brain works, “—how are you going to get home?”

“But you said it yourself, right? I can’t go home in the middle of the night like this.” You open your mouth to answer, but she intercepts you. “And I can’t ask for an Uber or anything, and asking my manager to come pick me up from here is only admitting that I came here in the middle of the night to have sex with you.”

You grit your teeth. You know she’s right. Just the memory of the fallout from last time makes you want to go crawl in a hole; what’s done is done, so the least you can do is to minimize the chance of this night’s events leaking out to anyone else.

“Fine. I’ll go—” you move to get up but are immediately pulled back down onto the bed.

“Where are you going?”

“Going to sleep on the couch.”

“No! Just sleep here with me.”

You’ve just had sex with her, for God’s sake. You’ve even just cum inside her—hell, your semen is currently still inside her, trickling out of her battered and beaten hole drop by drop, but hearing those words coming out of her mouth causes your face to flush deep red.

“I—…” you can’t formulate a rebuttal, and knowing how stubborn Karina is, you just huff and crawl under the covers. “—fine.”

At this point, you’ve fully recovered, but you can’t let Karina know that. How are you going to be able to sleep with the leader of æspa in the same bed as you? While she’s naked, much less?

“Good night, Jonghyun~”

You let out an embarrassingly feminine squeal when you feel her bountiful bosom pressing against your back. You can feel an erection starting to form again, so you suck in your lips, praying that your racing heart calms down. Her wrapping her arms around your torso doesn’t help, and neither does feeling her soaked groin against your butt.

Damn it. She’s actually spooning you. And damn it, why are you enjoying the feeling of her body curled up against yours so much?

No, this isn’t something you should let yourself indulge in, lest you actually get a wink of sleep. For both your and her, but mostly your, sanity. “Ka—Jimin?”

After a few seconds, “Hm?”

“Can—Can you, um, give me more space?”

“Why?”

“I—” can you even admit why? “It’s a little cramped.”

“But…” you can feel your heart plummeting as you feel her hand snaking its way south. You want to tell her to stop, but it feels as though your throat is suddenly sealed shut. You think about squirming out of Karina’s embrace, but it remains only that: a thought.

Ooh, this isn’t good.

“…you’re so hard.”

The words sensually whispered in your ear in combination with her dainty fingers slipping underneath your boxers and grabbing your now fully erect cock destroy the last semblance of self-control you had been so desperately clinging to.

If she wants me to destroy her pussy and fill her up with cum until the sun rises, who am I to deny her?

Tumblr debut fic, and also first time writing in 2nd person :o

(and also first time writing in present tense)

If you noticed there’s a LOT of setup, that will be a trend for the stuff I write, so hope you’re willing to sit through it! xD

#smut #kpop smut #karina #aespa

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yandere-daydreams · 6 months

Text

Title: Nursle.

Pairing: Yandere!Gojo Satoru x Reader (JJK).

Word Count: 3.4k.

TW: Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Mentions of Pregnancy, Implied Stalking, Unprotected Sex, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Lactation, Slight Breeding Kinks, Daddy Kinks, Mentions of Abusive Relationships, and Age Gaps (Gojo is 20, Reader is 35+).

[Part Two] [Part Three]

A few days into the new school year, you decided that Gojo Satoru could not be Fushiguro Megumi’s primary guardian, despite what the paperwork filed by the former claimed. Honestly, the fact that Megumi’s name had been misspelled in every conceivable way across the aforementioned paperwork should’ve been enough to make that clear, but after a decade of teaching, you’d learned to pick up on the smaller signs; a certain discomfort that passed through Megumi's expression whenever you asked about his homelife, the lapse before a half-hearted answer whenever you posed a question to Satoru as to Megumi's preferences. It didn’t necessarily mean anything bad was going on, just that something was going on - something you couldn’t ignore, not completely.

Four weeks into the new school year, you decided that Fushiguro Megumi did not like Gojo Satoru. All your students were at the age where they were suddenly eager to distance themselves from any adult they could call an authority, but Megumi was the only one still in your classroom hours after the school day ended, the only one who stayed for as long as you could afford to let him. Sometimes, Satoru would make an appearance, loiter outside of your classroom or pass time with the best attempts at small talk someone nearly two decades your junior could make, but Megumi made a habit of ignoring him and try as you might, you'd never had the heart to be very strict with your students. The only days he didn’t stay to help you (as much as a nine year old could help anyone do anything) were the days when his sister was free to pick him up and, much to your relief, Satoru was nowhere to be found.

Two months into the new school year, you found yourself on the doorstep of Gojo Satoru’s listed address which, notably, was not the dingy flat you’d dropped off Megumi in front of whenever he stayed too late to justify letting him walk home alone. Instead, you gaped openly at the skyscraper in front of you, as tall as the eye could see and pouring out the kind of people you couldn’t help but want to get away from. You’d called ahead, let Satoru know you’d be making a home visit to discuss some of your concerns about Megumi, but for as long as he’d kept you on the phone, he’d never bothered to explain why he would ask you to meet him in a place like—

“You’re early, Miss (L/n).”

You stiffened, glanced over your shoulder to find Gojo Satoru – dressed in his usual plain, black uniform and unaccompanied by the student you’d come to discuss. He greeted you with a wide grin, a lazy nod, and you returned it with a purse-lipped smile and a tightened hold on the strap of your messenger bag. “Well, I’d hate to waste your time.” You toyed with the idea of meeting his eyes, but your gaze skirted over the pitch-black lenses of his sunglasses and settled firmly on the collar of his button-up. “And you don’t have to call me that. It makes you sound like one of my students and—” A slight pause, a nervous laugh. “I think you might be a little too old to blend in.”

Satoru’s grin only widened. With only your own paranoia as warning, he strung an arm through the crook of yours, dragging you towards the entrance of his looming tower. “I think it’s got a nice ring to it, Miss.”

Something sharp pricked at the back of your throat.

In hindsight, it might’ve been easier to do this with the nine year old.

You kept your teeth grit and your smile plastered on as he led you through the lobby – all shining crystal chandeliers and glistening marble floors – and hauled you into a gold-gilded elevator, the kind that would’ve let you know you were somewhere you didn’t belong under normal circumstances. You watched in stomach-knotting, heart-stopping terror as the numbers ticked up, up, up, until the mirrored doors were sliding open and you were stepping into the living room that could’ve swallowed your shoebox of an apartment whole. Your heels (blocked, low, practical – the only pair you’d found the strength to wear since coming back from your leave) clicked against the bare tile floor as you stumbled into the remarkably open space, his furniture sparse and largely utilitarian. You spotted one of Megumi’s drawings on a low coffee table, a pile of Tsumiki’s hairbands forgotten on an otherwise empty bookshelf, but any other signs of life were either nonexistent or exceptionally well-hidden. Any hope you had that Megumi and Satoru’s situation might’ve just been that of a young, overburdened guardian and his slow-to-warm ward evaporated immediately. Those of limited means tended not to live in penthouses that cost triple your annual salary in rent.

If Satoru noticed your growing anxiety, he didn’t seem to pay it any mind. With an exaggerated yawn, he strode past you and collapsed onto a leather couch – too pristine to have been recently visited by two hyperactive children. When you stalled near the entryway, he let his head lull to the side, his tinted glasses falling low on the bridge of his nose. “You don’t have to be shy. There’s plenty of room – not that I mind the view, if you really wanna stand.”

You took a deep breath and let it out in a long, labored exhale. He’s practically a kid, you reminded yourself. You could only be thankful you hadn’t gotten him a couple of years ago – otherwise, you’d be dealing with an actual child.

Reluctantly, you squared your shoulders and perched yourself on the far edge of the sofa. Satoru immediately closed the distance, draping his lanky arms over the back of the couch, his fingertips just barely brushing against your shoulder. You pulled your messenger bag into your lap, opening your mouth as you looked for Megumi’s file, but Satoru cut in before you could start your well-practiced monologue. “This is your first year at his school, right? I’d remember if I saw a teacher as pretty as you around campus.”

“It’s my first year back,” you corrected. “I’ve noticed Megumi very introverted for a boy his—”

“Let me guess – maternity leave?”

Your lips quirked into a tight frown. Fighting the urge to cross your arms over your stomach self-consciously, you sent him a withering look out of the corner of your eye. “I’d rather not talk about my personal life, if it’s all the same to you. Like I said, I’m not here to waste your time.”

Your tone was clipped, your voice strict, but Satoru’s only response was an airy chuckle, a careless grin. “I’m not in a rush,” he said. “But you’re probably eager to get back home to your baby girl. I know you try to spend time with her on weekends.”

This time, you didn’t try to breathe. Letting your bag fall back to your side, you moved to stand, but Satoru was quick to catch you by the wrist, to pull you back down with a single, playful jerk. Your bag fell off of your shoulder, hitting the floor and spilling open at your feet, but you didn’t reach for it. He was stronger than he looked, and you already knew everything you had to about strong young men with more power than they knew what to do with. “I’d really rather not talk about myself when Megumi is—”

“Can’t be easy, leaving her all alone like that. Did you ask your neighbor to babysit again, or was it that brat of a teenager you call up on weekends?” His hand fell to your thigh, and you immediately regretted wearing a dress, let alone one that ended well before the knee. You’d wanted this to seem causal, unintrusive, but as his fingertips bit into the plush of your thigh, you regretted not going straight to the police as soon as you noticed something strange. “Can’t be easy, not having a husband to dote on you and the little princess anymore.”

You keep your eyes on your feet, on one of the manilla folders spilling out of your bag. Megumi's name was scrawled messily across the upper right corner in red pen, because red was his favorite color and you knew he would see it every time he helped you organize paperwork for your other students. “I appreciate your concern, but we’ve managed to take care of ourselves.”

“I know.” He was close, too close. You could feel his breath, hot and humid, against the shell of your ear. “It’s just that I think I might just be able to take care of you a little better.”

“I think I should leave.” You spoke slowly, your tone flat, factual. Like you were talking to a child, or a dog, or worst of all – a man in monks' clothing, ready to worship at his own alter. “Before either of us does anything we might regret.”

Satoru let his lead lull forward, his fanged smile biting into the corner of your jaw.

You tried to bolt, but it was already too late.

It happened too quickly for you to process. One second, you were writhing in your own skin, your favorite student’s neglectful guardian pressed into your side and the next, you were on your back, splayed over the length of his couch, Satoru’s knee between your open legs and his hands on either side of your head. Your body reacted before your mind, trying to run, to resist, to get away from him, but Satoru’s hand was on your chest before you could so much as sit up, keeping you trapped underneath him without a trace of effort. “You can stop working so hard, momma.” His glasses had fallen away completely, revealing eyes as blinding as the cloudless sky and as unfeeling as raw ice. It was hard to remember why you’d ever thought a man like this could ever have anything to do with a boy as sweet as Megumi. “Daddy’s gonna take real good care of you.”

You shouldn’t have been so worried about the dress. It didn’t matter how long your skirt was, not when the cheap material fell apart so easily under his eager touch – your bra and panties discarded with just as little thought. You panicked, started to kick and shove and thrash, but his hands were already locked over your hips, keeping you pinned to the couch as he bent down and buried his face between your thighs. However young you’d thought he was, he must’ve been younger; his inexperience shining through in the overzealous way he nipped at the inside of your thighs, how hastily he laved the flat of his tongue over your slit. His pace was rough, his technique nonexistent, but you couldn’t remember the last time you had time to touch yourself, and you hadn’t slept with someone else since…

This time, when your mind went blank, you were the one willing away fractured thoughts and bitter memories. You didn’t want to acknowledge the twisted pleasure Satoru was forcing onto your body either, but it would’ve been impossible to ignore the way his teeth grazed over your clit as he wrapped his lips around the sensitive bud, to not hear the slick sound you just couldn’t seem to believe a part of you would make as he forced two fingers into your tight pussy. You threw your head back, clenched your eyes shut, but no amount of aversion could seem to block out his throaty laugh, to make the reverberations his deep voice sent pulsing through your cunt anything short of unbearable. “Needy little thing,” he muttered, pulling away just far enough to press a lingering kiss into the apex of your hip. “Bet he was neglecting you even before you ran off. Is that why you had to leave him? He didn’t know how to treat a pretty thing like you?”

You would’ve given anything to make him stop talking, but you didn’t have a chance to try and bargain. While his fingers pumped mercilessly into your pussy, his mouth pushed slow, wet kisses into the rounded curves of your stomach, your midriff, your chest. He noticed it before you did; saw the thin trail of thin, near-transparent fluid running down the curve of your chest before you felt the telltale soreness in your breasts, managed to draw a connection between that and the shallow, airy moan Satoru let out as he ran his tongue over your leaking nipple. He took long, agonizing seconds to lick up the spilled milk before his lips found the closest nipple and finally, he latched onto you properly.

He was worse than your newborn. It was an awful thing to think, it was a terrible thing to have to think, but it was true. He was rough, and clumsy, and noisy – groaning as he lapped and sucked, eager to swallow down anything you had to give. Drool seeped out of the corner of his mouth, whatever pain he might’ve alleviated immediately replaced as the fingertips of his free hand kneaded into your swollen tit. By the time he pulled away, he was panting, scissoring open your pussy with enough force to leave your toes curling, your thighs twitching, little involuntary whimpers slipping past your lips despite your best efforts to choke them back.

He didn’t so much earn your climax as drag it out of you, piece by fractured piece, broken moan by stuttering convulsion. Your hands shot to his head, fingers soon knotted through messy white hair, but he didn’t seem to care, didn’t seem to mind, his attention devoted entirely to spreading open your cunt and milking your chest dry even as the last of the aftershocks faded and the first pangs of overstimulation began to set in. When he did pull away from you, it was with an exaggerated smack of his lips, a teasing nudge of the heel of his palm against your clit, a cocky smirk that reminded you of the expression Megumi would sometimes draw onto his doodled stick figures as they were hit with simplistic, two-dimensional cars or torn apart by black and white wolves. That was something you’d meant to bring up during your conversation with Satoru – Megumi’s tendency towards more violent forms of creativity, how it could be an early sign of emotional unrest in children too young to properly express themselves. Now, you could only wonder why he didn’t draw Satoru more often.

You were barely conscious by the time he drew back working one arm under your back and another under the bend of your knees. You let your eyes fall shut and, by the time you found the strength to open them again, you were on your back, dark satin sheets underneath you and Satoru above, snowy hair providing a much-appreciated barrier between you and those terrible eyes. This time, you couldn’t stop yourself from meeting his prying gaze, and he welcomed your bleary stare, drinking you in for one second, then another, before dipping that much lower and slotting his lips against yours. The kiss was surprisingly gentle – all slow tenderness and delicate warmth. Your mind flitted back to dark eyes and pitch-black hair, pointed teeth and deceiving smiles and you willed yourself not to think at all.

You heard fabric shift, felt his hands curl around your thighs. With an aching sort of slowness, he pushed your knees into your chest, leaving you spread open and vulnerable below him. You felt the head of his cock press against your slick entrance, heard a raspy groan trickle past his lips as he thrust into you – bottoming out in the same stroke.

He didn’t wait for you to adjust to his size. With his face buried in the crook of your neck, he rutted into you with short, brutal thrusts; never pulling out of you entirely, never happy unless his cock was abusing the deepest pocket of your wet heat. Immediately, it was overwhelming – too much stimulation being forced onto you too quickly with too little preparation. Your hands fell to his back, your nails biting into his skin as he fucked into you with a jagged kind of desperation. His cock scraped against something soft and spongy inside of you and you cried out, arching against him. “I can’t— It hurts, Gojo, slow—”

“C’mon, baby, you can do better than that.” His voice was low, airy. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss into the corner of your jaw, rolled his hips and pressed himself that much deeper into you. “What’s my name? Who’s takin' care of you from now on?”

It was more an act of desperation than anything; a broken plea that you could barely recognize as your own voice. “Daddy,” you sobbed, shrinking against him. “Please, don’t cum insi—”

You were cut off by an unabashed moan, the feeling of his cock twitching inside of you. His hips pressed into yours, his thrusts growing shorter, more violent as he pumped something warm and awful into your pussy. At the same time, his thumb found your clit, pushing harsh circles into the vulnerable bundle of nerves and bringing your exhausted body to its second climax. Your vision burnt white as your cunt clenched around him, as his thrusts turned labored and languid, as collapsed against you – limp and boneless. Idly, almost lovingly, he nuzzled into the side of your neck, letting several seconds pass in silence before sighing, the pinnacle of satisfaction. Eventually, he picked himself up, resting his weight on his elbows as he cupped your face. “Pretty girl. I think the brat’s got a crush on you, too – always going on about his favorite teacher, telling me to keep my dirty hands away from you.” He laughed, shook his head. “Think he’ll be excited to have a younger sister?”

You didn’t answer, but Satoru didn’t need you to. He was already picking himself up, already pressing a kiss into the crook of your neck as he straightened his back, staring down at you with eyes that must’ve gone lifeless years ago. Eyes that, despite your best efforts to ignore their similarities, you couldn’t help but feel that you’d seen before.

“Speaking of, I think it’s about time we checked on our baby girl.”

Less than an hour later, you found yourself in your makeshift nursery; the corner of your bedroom occupied by a crib and a few shelves of miscellaneous supplies. You sat on the foot of your bed as Satoru held your daughter in his arms, rocking her as she sniffled and threatened to cry. You’d taken a taxi back to your apartment – called up and paid for by Satoru, of course. He’d given the driver your address before you so could so much as process where he was taking you, something you were currently choosing to ignore.

“She looks just like him.” His tone was light, his smile soft. He gestured to your daughter’s curly tufts of dark hair, her brown eyes – both only a shade away from black. “It’ll get worse as she grows up. He was always like that – couldn’t stand to let anyone else be the center of attention.”

You felt sick. Black spots still danced in the corners of your vision, and it took all your strength just to choke something coherent out. “He’ll never meet her. I’d die before I ever let him put his hands on my daughter.”

“I know, baby, I know.” He flashed you a grin, then turned back to your daughter. “I’m gonna keep both of you safe, be such a good daddy to both my pretty girls.” He pulled her that much closer to him, pressing a ginger kiss into her forehead. “You know, you really gotta open up more. I tried as hard as I could, but I don’t think I ever managed to catch her name.”

That made sense. You tended not to use it, when you could help it, when you were strong enough not to think about the man who’d given it to her – the man who’d tried to take yours, before you’d gotten away from him and and his monsters. You weren’t feeling very strong right now, though.

“Himari,” you mumbled, the sound of it alone still enough to steal the air out of your lungs, to leave the taste of blood heavy on your tongue.

“Geto Himari.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #yandere jjk #gojo x reader #gojo x you #yandere gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #yanderecore #yancore #yandere gojo

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suiana · 3 months

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(yandere! infected harem x gn! reader) (HEAVILY inspired by LT may's book 'infected' on wattpad, go read it!!!)

This was exactly like a zombie infection. No, it was worse.

You couldn't even remember how it all started. You were just sitting in class one day, listening to your tutor yap about something boring when all of a sudden you heard people screaming.

The once peaceful world you knew was suddenly turned upside down. Everyone had changed for the worse, or better, if you see it from their perspective.

The infected, that's what people are calling them.

They're insane, crazy, obsessive. The epitome of what people once called toxic. But now, it's becoming the norm. And it's all because of that crazy scientist who developed this infection and made it an airborne virus.

You see this as something like a zombie infection. The people who're infected... they're practically... dead. Well, not really. They turn alive once they see their darlings. Right, darlings. That's what the infected are calling the uninfected.

But anyway, these infected people are practically zombies now. Like, enhanced zombies? Maybe? Their physical abilities are no joke, not to mention how much smarter they've all become. And their emotions... God, they're like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.

The worst part is, the love emotion has spiralled out of control. All their passion, love, intrusive thoughts... They've lost all sense of rationality when it comes to their beloved darlings. They've become crazy in love for anyone they've had their eyes on prior to the infection. That's why the infected turn alive when they see their darlings. That's why so many people are going missing. That's why you call this a zombie infection.

Because somehow, someway, if you're uninfected and you get caught by an infected... Chances are, you're likely to turn infected as well. Apparently everyone breathed in the infection virus, some just react to it faster than others, hence the huge outbreak of infecteds. Those who didn't turn yet are apparently stronger in health or simply can't react to the infection.

And that's what brings you to your current situation. As an uninfected with their morality and common sense still in-tact.

It's crazy how the people you once called your friends are acting like monsters for their lovers now. You still can't wrap your head around that fact. But to everyone else who got infected it's nothing but a small step to get their darlings.

You can't stand it.

Why is everyone acting like this is something normal? Just a few weeks ago they'd all call this act immoral and simply insane! And now they're doing the same exact thing they vowed to never do? God you absolutely despise that scientist who created this infection.

The same can't be said for the people who are infected though, especially... your admirers.

Look! There's one right now.

"Darling! Has your infection kicked in yet?"

A cheery voice hums, a cute boy coming into view as he stares at you with the most lovesick eyes you've ever seen. Oh, right, forgot to mention but the infection takes place differently in everyone. Apparently it takes form based on your true personality, or whatever the fuck that means.

Meaning that if you were shy prior to the infection, you'd be more shy with your love. Your true personality would either turn you into a clingy wet kitten desperate for your darling's love or to a crazy homicidal maniac that goes insane if their love is not reciprocated. The infected would still be obsessive and possessive to a certain extent. But the rest of the traits are completely dependent on how you really were before getting infected.

And this guy was your friend who was super fucking clingy before the infection. Turns out he was in love with you and the infection just made things a hundred times worse.

"Um, no-"

"Why not? I can't wait for your affection!"

"Uh-"

"Pipe down shorty. You're making them uncomfortable."

Ah, how could you have forgotten that you not only had one admirer, but another one? Actually, scratch that. You had more than 2. Everyday there would be more and more people confessing their love to you, so much that you began to lose count of how many people held you in their hearts.

But there were 4 prominent people who stood out with their affections. And these 2 were it. Unfortunately.

Because even though one was more clingy and the other was more aloof, they had murdered the other admirers ruthlessly in cold blood. At least the aloof one had the decency to wash off the blood before coming to you. This clingy one came to you, all wide eyed and smiley, thinking you'd hug him when he was drenched in blood.

The fact that laws had been changed too didn't help either. People could now openly commit crimes that were once deemed illegal as long as they were proven to be done in the name of love. How cruel.

"Can you both just leave me alone?"

You grumble, glaring at your two admirers as you hide your face in your hands. You were so fucking tired of it all. Not only were you constantly on edge because you were uninfected and could be killed because you looked at someone a little too long, but you also had to deal with the weight of being so many people's obsessions.

This cursed dystopian world that changed in the blink of an eye... Ah, you had only wished you treasured the sweet days of the old world a little more.

#yandere #tw yandere #yandere x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere concept #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere infected harem #yandere infected harem x reader #gn reader #suiana rambling #suiana brainrotting

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steddiealltheway · 1 year

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It starts out simple. Eddie notices that Steve sometimes spaces out, but no one really pays him much attention. Usually, he’ll try to enter back into the conversation, and he’ll earn a few eye rolls when he has no idea what anyone’s talking about.

But what really haunts Eddie is the way Steve will sometimes be zoned out with his jaw and fists clenched, looking as if he’s reliving the worst of the upside down. He’ll gradually come out of it, and sometimes Robin will nudge him and quietly whisper if he’s okay, but he just shakes it off.

It’s like he has to appear fine in front of everyone, but Eddie gets it. He’s not sure what the group would do if Steve fell apart.

But a few times, he looks like he’s on the verge of it.

One time, he’s far away enough from everyone that Eddie is able to inconspicuously make his way to the former jock and nudge him. “Penny for your thoughts?” Eddie asks.

Steve startles and Eddie watches as the tension in him increases then slowly releases until he appears “normal.”

Eddie grabs his wallet and sifts through it before finally finding what he wants. A single dull penny.

He hands it to Steve who takes it and starts fiddling with it. He glances back at everyone else to make sure they’re out of earshot before he answers, “I’m just scared that maybe this Vecna creep will return, you know? It’s happened four times by now. How do we know it’s over?”

Eddie takes a deep breath. He’s gone through the same thought process of wondering if he’ll be back. If life will return to hell again. But he can’t imagine what it’s been like for Steve whose done it multiple times.

But he’s been able to logic his way out of his anxiety before. “Well, we have Will who has the whole Spidey-sense thing going on, so we’ll know if he’s back but… remember what El said. She felt it. Like it was finished this time. For good.”

Steve just nods and Eddie sees the tiniest shred of anxiety slip away. “Plus,” Eddie continues, “Can’t let our hero boy do all the worrying or his strength might deplete. How about I do all the worrying and standing guard tonight, huh?”

Steve glances over at him for a second, and Eddie almost thinks he’s going to laugh him off or something. Instead, he lets out a shaky sigh, puts his hand on Eddie’s shoulder, and squeezes. “Thanks, man.”

Eddie watches as Steve pockets the penny and actually heads toward the group with a smile on his face. He smiles and looks around. Time to stand guard.

-:-:-:-:-:-

Eddie almost forgets about it, but it’s probably the whole not-getting-any-sleep-because-he-keeps-having-nightmares thing. It’s been a particularly bad week when he finds himself in the Harrington home with all the gremlins and other adults. He wants to be all bigger than life / life of the party, but his energy is gone.

He sits at the kitchen island on a barstool with his head in his hands, staring at the granite slab of the countertop when a hand and something slides into his view.

The hand pulls back and Eddie gets sight of a penny. What the-?

He looks up to see Steve sitting next to him with a small smile on his face. “Penny for your thoughts?” He asks.

Eddie stares at him and feels his heart flutter but he wills that to die down a bit. He shakes his head. “I don’t know, man. Just…” he glances off to see if anyone else is in earshot before continuing, “I keep getting these damn nightmares. Sometimes about… Chrissy… sometimes about random stressful shit, but they just won’t stop. It’s like although Vecna’s gone, he’s always here.”

Steve’s gaze has turned sympathetic as he runs a hand through his hair and looks around before lowering his voice. “I’ve been through the same thing, but I’ve found that it’s easier getting through the night with other people. Don’t tell anyone, but I snuck into Robin’s room for weeks after the whole Russian torture thing. But hey, if you want to crash here with me tonight, I’d be more than happy to have you.” Steve glances away from Eddie and runs a hand through his hair again as a faint blush appears on his cheeks. “Hell, you’d be helping me out too, man.”

Eddie considers it and immediately feels a wave of relief flood through him at the thought. He pockets the penny and squeezes Steve’s shoulder. “That’d be great. Thank you. Really,” Eddie says with a smile and eases himself off the barstool.

He hears Dustin raising his voice in the other room and Eddie says to Steve, “Time to ware out the children.”

Steve just laughs and joins him, but Eddie sees another tiny piece of tension leave his body.

-:-:-:-:-:-

It slowly becomes their thing. Eddie finds himself keeping pennies on himself at all times just in case, but by some strange fate, him and Steve always use that same penny.

Sometimes it pressed into Eddie’s palm, Eddie once throws it at Steve yelling, “catch!”, and sometimes it just appears in one of their vision.

The thoughts range from stupid things like Steve trying to remember if he turned off the oven to Eddie’s Dnd campaign to the overwhelming trauma from the Upside Down seeping into their lives.

Along with the penny becoming a regular thing, Eddie sleeping in Steve’s bed becomes a regular thing too. At first, it’s a bit awkward as they try to find out how much space each of them needs, what side of the bed they prefer, what they’re like in the mornings, and overall just how to be around each other when sharing a bed.

It shifts when one night, Eddie notices Steve staring at the ceiling wide awake. Eddie leans over the side of the bed where his pants are and digs into his pocket to retrieve the penny which he gently lays on Steve’s chest.

Steve glances down and carefully picks it up, twirling it as Eddie watches the coin slightly glint in the moonlight. There’s a deep breath and then Steve is saying, “I was just thinking about what if we… I don’t know. Like… held each other? Or rather, I was thinking that it would be nice to be held.”

Steve sets the penny down on the nightstand which indicates the end of his thoughts but he doesn’t dare turn to face Eddie. But Eddie is already scooting closer to press his body against Steve who instantly curls into Eddie’s embrace holding him as if he’ll escape if he tries to let go. But Eddie would never escape.

And every night they hold each other close with no questions asked and no penny needed.

-:-:-:-:-:-

Eddie’s feelings for Steve grow. He knows they’ve been there since the beginning, but with the whole penny thing, it’s like he has the key to all of Steve’s deepest thoughts and desires. He knows that Steve has access to his as well and is just thankful that Steve’s never given him the penny when Eddie’s been staring at him. He knows he can’t lie to Steve, and it may be dumb, but he especially can’t lie with that penny in sight.

So, he says nothing. He keeps holding Steve through the night, comforting him if he’s awoken from a particularly bad nightmare, but usually just laying there willing himself to stay awake as long as he can so he can bask in the sensation of holding Steve Harrington.

Then, one morning as Steve makes them breakfast, Eddie looks at him for a little too long, wondering how he’s been able to live his life without him when that penny is slid into his sight.

Eddie blinks down at it and swallows as Steve looks at him. “You,” Eddie blurts out, “I was just thinking about you.”

Eddie leaves the penny on the table because he knows that’s not enough of his thoughts. Steve turns back to scrape the eggs out of the pan onto a plate and put some butter on their toast before he turns back to Eddie. He doesn’t pry, but through the breakfast the penny stays in sight.

Eddie’s plate is clear when he finally fully answers, “I was just thinking about how much better my life has been since you’ve come into it, and… thank you.” He feels blood rise to his cheeks and finds Steve with a similar blush.

“I was thinking the same about you,” Steve responds and takes their plates to clean them before Eddie can respond.

He knows he’s falling in love with him.

-:-:-:-:-:-

It’s a few mornings later, and Eddie feels someone watching him. It doesn’t feel creepy or bad because he can feel the way that Steve has shifted to lean over him. Eddie opens his eyes slowly and takes in the view of Steve staring down at him with a small smile on his face. Eddie rolls towards his side of the bed, where his clothes are piled up and grabs the penny before rolling back to Steve.

He gently presses it into Steve’s hand who continues to stare down at him with a look in his eyes that Eddie can only assume is reflected in his own gaze.

Steve takes a deep breath and whispers, “I was just thinking that I might be in love with you.”

Eddie’s heart stutters, and he feels Steve’s hand shift to press the penny into his. Eddie smiles and replies, “I think I might be in love with you too.”

Steve smiles all wide and bright in the way that makes Eddie feel like he’s the luckiest person in the world to be able to see it. Then, Steve’s hand is intertwining with Eddie’s and as the penny presses into their palms, they both lean in and kiss, only breaking away when they both break into wide smiles and begin laughing as all the tension drains from them.

Years later, Eddie gets the penny turned into a ring and when he gets down on one knee, all he asks is, “Penny for your thoughts?”

AO3 Link (for @humanityinahandbag <3)

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie ficlet

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flowerfan2 · 1 year

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Steve has asked to see Eddie in the hospital four times over the past week, and each time Wayne says no. He’s not mean about it, more like perplexed, and increasingly annoyed.

When Steve tries to sneak in when Wayne’s not there, a nurse kicks him out, kindly at first, and then with a threat to call security. He’s not family, and Wayne hasn’t left permission for him to be there.

Steve doesn’t think anyone’s being intentionally cruel, he’s just a teenager who happened to meet Eddie a week ago, he doesn’t have any right to see him. But he did carry him out of hell, and he would really like to see how he’s doing.

Steve’s got injuries of his own, and his head hasn’t stopped throbbing in days, and he hasn’t been sleeping much. But he still wants to see Eddie. Needs to see him. Because sometime in that handful of moments fighting monsters together, he thinks he fell in love.

This seems crazy, he knows that. People don’t fall in love so quickly, not normal people. The fact that Eddie is a guy makes it all a little out of left field, he knows that too. But Steve’s miles past exhausted, and sore with aching, and somehow the thing his brain has latched on to, that will make things just a little bit better, is if he can see Eddie and make sure he’s okay.

Because he’s pretty sure that Eddie feels the same. He can’t be positive – it was only a handful of moments, a few meaningful looks and a phrase or two that he could well have misunderstood. But he doesn’t think so. And he needs Eddie to know he’s still with him, he’s thinking about him, he’s here for him.

Steve takes a new approach with Wayne, showing up every day at the same time and quickly saying it’s okay if Eddie isn’t ready for visitors, please just let him know I came and give him this. This ranges from a brightly colored get well card, to a comic book, to a tape player and a tape of one of Eddie’s favorite bands. It takes the pressure off of Wayne to keep saying no, and hopefully at the same time lets Wayne – and Eddie -- know he’s not going anywhere.

Two weeks after Steve dragged Eddie out of the Upside Down, he arrives at Eddie’s hospital door with a worn copy of The Hobbit. He hands it to Wayne and says his piece, but as he turns to leave, Wayne calls out for him to wait.

“This is one of Eddie’s favorites,” Wayne says slowly. “But I don’t think he’s up for reading yet.”

“Oh, of course, I’m sorry-” Steve says, embarrassment flooding his cheeks.

“Maybe you could read it to him?”

Steve freezes, his heart pounding in his chest.

Wayne hands Steve the book and claps him on the shoulder. “I’m gonna go get some coffee.”

A few minutes later, Steve is curled up on the bed with Eddie, pretending to read to him while Eddie dozes in his arms. Turns out he wasn’t the only one falling in love while fighting monsters.

#Steddie #Steddie fic #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #Stranger Things fic #Stranger Things #Wayne Munson

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ellemj · 6 months

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We Don't Have to Stop: 12 Days of Smut #10

Bucky Barnes x Reader One-Shot

Warnings: profanity, mutual pining of sorts, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink but not really, truly cheesy fluffy shit, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: I do not like writing cheesy fluffy stuff, it is not me at all but I felt like this prompt really called for it so I tried my best. I love all of @mashedpotatooooos prompts, this was another really creative one!

It’s just a waltz, the simplest dance you could’ve been told to learn. Yet, with Bucky, it feels complicated. You don’t think the dance is complicated in itself, but the way Bucky has been teaching it to you for the past two weeks is complicated. Is complicated even the right word? It’s confusing. There you go, that’s the right word. He always came across as this elusive recluse. You rarely see him during the day but he’s up late every single night without fail. He doesn’t go out of his way to interact with anyone except for Sam. Or at least that was true until he offered to teach you to dance. Now, you’re all his every night at 8 pm.

From 8 to 10 pm, Bucky gets to remember what it’s like to have a girl swooning in his arms. Swooning? Maybe he was being a bit too bold by thinking that, but it sure felt like you were swooning when you looked up into his eyes just as he pulled you close against his chest last night. The way you’ve been looking at him the last few days makes him dread the day the mission is set for, because he knows that as soon as it’s over, your little late-night rendezvous in the gym will end. You’ll dance one final time while undercover at the gala, and then he’ll only have the memory of you being so close to him.

Bucky sits on the floor of the gym with his back leaning against the wall and his knees bent in front of him. He’s replaying the last two weeks with you in his head as he traces the golden lines of his vibranium arm with his flesh index finger.

“Hey, sorry I’m a few minutes late. I had a dinner thing.” Your sweet, melodious voice rings out like a song as soon as you come bustling into the gym. Even if you hadn’t mentioned having dinner plans, Bucky would’ve been able to tell from the full face of makeup and the loose curls you’re sporting. You look so put together, even though you’ve changed into more gym-appropriate clothes since dinner. You’re wearing a pair of black leggings and a baggy SHIELD sweatshirt. Normally, you’d have worn a t-shirt, but you were in such a rush you put on whatever you grabbed first. That was your first mistake. Your second mistake was leaving your hair down.

You’re only fifteen minutes into your little dance lesson when you decide that you’re getting a little too warm to keep the sweatshirt on, so when Bucky breaks away from you to pick a new song, you pull your sweatshirt off and toss it on the floor next to your water bottle.

Fuck. He’s staring, and he’s fully aware that he shouldn’t be, but he can’t seem to tear his eyes away from you. You’re standing before him in a black sports bra and matching leggings with sweat glistening across your cleavage and neck. Though your eyes are down on your water bottle as you work to screw the cap back on it, you can feel Bucky’s gaze burning as it coasts over your skin. You always know when he’s looking at you, it’s like a sixth sense.

“Play that song you almost played yesterday, the one with the trumpets, the one you skipped. I liked that one.” You say softly, when you finally look up and meet Bucky’s gaze. He swallows hard before nodding his head and setting the song to play. As soon as you hear the lead trumpet, you feel like you’re being transported back in time to whenever Bucky and Steve were probably the talk of Brooklyn.

As you and Bucky get into position to practice your waltz, Bucky hesitates for a moment. His hand comes to rest on your middle back, as it has every other time that you’ve practiced, but his touch feels unsure.

“This is a great song, but it’s not exactly a song for a waltz.” Bucky points out.

“Then show me how you’d dance to this one.”

This is what led to Bucky having his first moment in the 21st century that made him feel like he was truly at home. The two of you danced to It’s Been a Long, Long Time by Harry James in a way that Steve would’ve been proud of. Bucky pulled you in close, so close that your bodies were nearly flush against each other. You’d never danced like this with anyone before, but with Bucky it felt like second nature. He held one of your hands in his, slightly above the height of your elbow, and his other hand wrapped snugly around your lower back, keeping you pressed against him. As you swayed back and forth, the eye contact between you both was intense, lighting your soul on fire. When the burning inside of your chest became too much to bear, you did the only thing you could think to do. You leaned in and rested your chin on his shoulder. Truthfully, it was a beautiful moment. Bucky closed his eyes and imagined this exact moment happening back before his life became what it is today, when Steve was still the little guy he had to stick up for and everything costed a few cents rather than a few dollars.

The only thing that maybe wasn’t so beautiful was the hard-on that Bucky was sporting. Luckily, you didn’t notice it. His hips were just far enough away from yours that you never once brushed against the front of his pants. Though, you were every bit as turned on as he was. You thought maybe dancing like that explains why women had so many kids back in the day. Who knew it would’ve been such a rush?

When you finished your practice session an hour and a half later, you were quick to take your leave and rush upstairs to your room. At first, you were kicking yourself over the way you were practically swooning over the quiet, brooding man. But then, as you started to get into a warm shower, you began to wonder what was so bad about simply fantasizing about him. So, you threw on some music and spent the entire shower imagining him standing behind you, helping you lather the soap over your smooth skin. You may have even imagined him licking the drops of water off of your skin before you toweled yourself dry. Little did you know, Bucky was across the hall in his own shower, imagining the same damn thing.

---

The mission went off without a hitch. You waltzed the evening away, got all of the intel that you were after, and then made it home by ten pm. The two of you went your separate ways for the night, with you curling up in your room to begin typing out your mission report and Bucky heading off to do whatever it is he does late at night. When you finally shut your laptop an hour and a half later, you felt a twinge of sadness. No more late-night dance lessons, no more necessary closeness with the man across the hall, no more knowing what it’s like to be pressed against Bucky’s chest. You decide to trek out into the kitchen for a near-midnight snack. A snack is exactly what you need to lift your spirits.

Bucky hears your door open and close down the hall. He listens closely as you patter down the hallway and across the living area, your footsteps slowing as you near the kitchen. Your eyes land on his bare shoulders first, and then your gaze coasts down the muscles of his back. Shit, he should go shirtless more often. You join him in the kitchen without saying a word. He turns to look at you as you rummage through the pantry, but looking at you only makes him feel worse. He wants something that he didn’t know he wanted, and it’s all because of that damn dance two nights ago. The dance where you rested your chin on his shoulder and let him hold you close enough to feel your heartbeat pounding against his own.

You settle on a box of cereal, pulling it out and shutting the pantry door. When you turn to look for a bowl, you notice Bucky’s stare. He doesn’t look away, instead you end up looking into each other’s eyes. His gaze is full of longing, and maybe a little bit of lust.

“You’re up late.” His voice sounds so tired, it makes you want to drag him back to his room and tuck him right into bed.

“I’m getting used to these late hours, dancing with you every night messed up my Circadian rhythm.” Bucky laughs lightly, but your words keep playing in his mind.

“Sorry, we probably should’ve been practicing earlier in the day.” He admits.

“No, it’s fine. I liked having the gym to ourselves. I’ll miss it, honestly.”

“Having the gym to yourself?” Bucky asks, raising an eyebrow. He watches as you carefully pour a bit of cereal into a small ceramic bowl.

“No.” The word leaves your mouth too quickly to take it back.

“What will you miss then?” He wants to hear what you’re thinking, he wants to know that you’ll miss it as much as he will.

“It was nice…the dancing.” You say quietly, your eyes flitting over to where Bucky stands confidently now, his arms crossed over his bare chest and a smile playing on his lips.

“It was.” He agrees. That’s all he has to say? God, you need to calm your damn racing heart if that’s all he has to say. Bucky continues watching as you pour milk over your cereal and then take a small bite. He can just barely make out the slight blush painting your cheeks. As his eyes coast down your frame, he notices the way you’re clenching your thighs together ever so slightly. Fuck. It isn’t even lust he’s feeling. He wants to slow dance with you to 40s music and then lay you down in his bed and kiss you all over. He wants to go back in time and introduce you to his mom before sitting down and having a family meal with you by his side. He wants all of the old-fashioned things with you.

The one and only time Bucky that has lost control since being freed from the hold that the Winter Soldier had on his mind, happens right there in the kitchen. As you raise your spoon to take the second bite of your cereal, Bucky rushes forward, practically knocking the spoon out of your hand as his hands come to cup either side of your face. His lips are on yours before you even have a moment to realize what’s happening, but your body responds like kissing Bucky is a natural instinct. Your cereal is forgotten as he walks you backward two steps, his lips slotting over yours with an urgency and passion you’d never dreamt would come from him. When your back collides with the cool metal of the fridge, your lips part to breathe in a gasp of air and Bucky takes the opportunity to slide his tongue between them. It’s a kiss that could make you forget your own damn name.

“I liked dancing with you.” Bucky whispers against your lips, letting you have a moment to catch your breath. You look up into his eyes, silently begging him to say more. “We don’t have to stop, just because the mission is over.”

“Stop dancing?” You question. Your innocent little expression makes his cock a little too hard, and he starts to step away from you, worried you’ll figure him out. You’re quick to place your hands on his sides and keep him in place.

“Stop dancing, stop being this close to each other, we don’t have to stop anything.” Bucky answers. He presses a much softer kiss against your lips before pulling back again.

“Don’t stop then.”

---

“Don’t stop, Bucky, please.” You moan out the words as quietly as you can, which isn’t very quietly given Bucky’s entire cock is pumping in and out of you so quickly that you can’t even catch your breath. He wanted to be old-fashioned with you. Bucky fucking loved the idea of taking you out on a date, taking you dancing, taking things slow. But as soon as you told him not to stop in the kitchen, he was done for. It had only been fifteen minutes from then until now. Now he’s fucking you like you’re his newlywed wife.

“I’m not, baby. I’m not stopping for anything.” He grunts, dropping his forehead to your shoulder as he continues to thrust into you. You’re taking his cock so well that he can’t keep himself from imagining giving it to you every day for the rest of his life. You’re taking his cock so well that he hopes you end up pregnant with his child, so he can live out the perfect 40s fantasy that lives in the back of his mind. He wants you all to himself, sleeping in his bed, having his kids, growing old with him. His thrusts grow a little slower and sloppier as he edges himself unintentionally.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask. You can tell he’s lost in thought as he continues sliding in and out of your wet cunt. You run your hands up his back and then rake your nails down it lightly.

“The 40s.” He answers semi-honestly. Bucky lifts his head and looks in your eyes and gives you an unexpectedly hard thrust with his hips, driving his cock in so deep that you feel the tip brush against your cervix. After your sultry moan echoes throughout his room, you try to gather yourself and continue the conversation.

“Would you have fucked me like this in the 40s?” You have to ask.

“You think I’m fucking you?” Is he not? Bucky looks down at you quizzically, patiently waiting for an answer as he continues his painfully slow movements. You nod your head, unsure of how to really answer his question. Bucky kisses you just like he did in the kitchen earlier. It’s a mixture of lips and tongue, with a heaping portion of passion. He sucks on your bottom lip before biting down on it and then picking up the pace with his hips. He thrusts into you harder and harder until the pleasure you’re feeling is so overwhelming that your nails dig into his back a little too hard and you’re sure you’ve left marks that’ll last at least a couple of days. When Bucky feels the walls of your pussy fluttering around his cock, he knows you’re close and he takes a leap. He lets himself cum inside you without saying a damn word. You watch as his head tilts back above you and a long, low groan escapes his lips and enters the space between you. He’s cumming inside of you, and he looks so fucking perfect doing it. Simply seeing him come undone like that sends you right over the edge after him, and he fucks you through the strongest orgasm you’ve ever experienced.

A few seconds go by and Bucky remains buried deep inside of you, refusing to make any move other than peppering kisses across your nose and cheeks as you come down from your high.

“I didn’t fuck you.” He says between kisses. You giggle and shake your head, clearly not understanding.

“Are you sure?” You ask, your eyes floating down to where your bodies are still connected. Bucky’s gaze softens as he leans down and presses one last soft kiss to your lips.

“I made love to you.”

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