#just waiting until he grows the balls to say it to your face | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fushisagi · 8 months

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miya atsumu and the chronic lovesick disease

୨୧ ━━ ❛ what am i to you, atsumu? ❜

word count ⋆ 12.6k (12,607) genre ⋆ fluff, slight angst, friends to lovers, college au ━ gn!reader

the question comes to him one autumn night, surrounded by his friends and the chilly november breeze, asked by, who he assumes to be, just another nobody looking for money: what is it that you desire most, boy? the psychic asks, her saccharine smile forgotten when he looks into the crystal ball and all he ends up seeing is you. alternatively: miya atsumu is not in love. what the hell? who would ever suggest something like that?

warnings ⋆ alcohol consumption, mutual pining, denial of feelings!!! lots of it!! and with this denial comes some stupid decisions!!! author’s note ⋆ ive actually like never been to the psychic before so if its inaccurate im so sorry ..... it’s not really a big part of the plot though so hopefully u can overlook it 😭

o. Desire

This is a scam, is Atsumu’s first thought when he takes a seat inside the tent and finds himself face-to-face with a crystal ball.

People like this are dangerous — his twin brother never lets anyone forget it. They take advantage of an individual’s fear of the unknown and they make money off it. It’s genius, because even the strongest people can become weak to something as mundane as self-proclaimed clairvoyants setting base near a college campus.

Atsumu supposes he’s no exception. Even if Bokuto was the one who forced him to do this in the first place.

“Hello,” the woman greets, her hair pinned into a tight bun. “You’re here for a reading?”

“Sure,” Atsumu huffs, shivering when the cold breeze sneaks into the tent. He really should’ve worn a thicker jacket.

When he looks up from the table, the woman gives him a smile. It’s analytical, as if all he needed to do was sit down for her to know everything about him. He fidgets in his seat, growing more uncomfortable under her gaze.

“So,” she says, clasping her hands together and resting them on the table. “What is it that you desire most, boy?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Your greatest desire,” she repeats patiently.

Atsumu blinks before tilting his head. “Um, I’m not—”

“I’m sure you know,” she says. “Is it strength? Power? Love?”

All colour drains from Atsumu’s face. The psychic smiles wickedly.

Atsumu thinks this may be the end of him. He never liked it when people acted like they knew more about his intentions than he did, and it only took mere minutes before the woman figured him out.

His hand twitches. He would feel a lot better if you were here—

“Ah,” she clicks her tongue, “bingo.”

i. Strength

After a borderline homicidal game of rock, paper, scissors, Sakusa lands himself a new roommate.

Move-in day comes two weeks later and Atsumu sits in the lobby of the building, waiting for your car to pull into the parking lot.

He notes the time — it’s five minutes past 8:30, making you more than half an hour late — before grumbling under his breath and continuing to scroll through his feed. When Instagram notifies him that he’s all caught up, he exits the app and opens Twitter in hopes that something will be able to entertain him until you show up. He likes some tweets, retweets a few more, and terrorizes Suna before he grows bored at the lack of anything interesting on his timeline.

Another glance at the time. He scowls. It’s only been two minutes.

Atsumu debates asking Sakusa if he knows what’s happened to you. When he opens their message thread, he raises an eyebrow at how unbelievably one-sided their conversations are, but he decides that’s a problem for another day. Your absence is more important to Atsumu than Sakusa’s terrible conversational skills ever will be.

(He’ll bother Sakusa about it later).

He’s about to send a long string of emojis when an incredulous voice reaches his ears.

“Tsumu?”

He looks up and immediately pockets his phone with a grin. “You’re late.”

You adjust the box of donuts in your hands and squint at him as if his smile is as blinding as the sun. “I slept through my alarm. What the hell are you doing here?”

Atsumu gestures to his outfit. “What does it look like?”

You stare blankly.

“Seriously?” he scoffs. “I told you last night I’d help you move in. How’d you forget? Am I that forgettable? You wound me, I—”

“Shut up,” you say, shifting your weight. Atsumu’s eyes flicker to the sticker on the box, and he tries his best not to frown when he notices you’ve written Sakusa’s name in calligraphy with a heart at the end. “Of course I remember you offering to help because I spent my entire night telling you it was fine.”

“You expect me to believe that you can bring all your shit in by yourself? You look like you just rolled out of bed.”

“Thank you, Tsumu, I can always count on you to make me feel like I’ve been shot by Cupid’s arrow,” you quip, brushing past him to get to the elevator, and as if it’s second nature, he follows. “I can’t believe people walk around campus calling you sweet.”

“I never said you looked bad,” he says. “I think the dried drool on your chin is pretty cute, actually.”

“Whatever,” you hurriedly wipe your face. “Speaking of bad, what on Earth are you wearing?”

Atsumu knows full well you’re not complimenting him, but he decides to treat your comment as if you have. He beams, picking at the sweatpants you eye with disgust before walking into the elevator with you.

“It’s my mover outfit!”

“Your mover outfit,” you deadpan. “Disregarding whatever that means — those sweatpants are baggier than Kenma’s eyebags. And they do nothing for your ass.”

He smirks. “You were checking out my ass?”

You avoid eye contact, feigning indifference, but Atsumu’s known you for too long and immediately recognizes your fluster by the way you tug at the hem of your clothing.

“No,” you deny curtly, straightening your posture when the elevator doors open to show Sakusa’s floor. “It’s just hard not to notice when those sweats are ridiculously baggy. Seriously, are you trying to put something in there? I could fit a month’s worth of groceries in those.”

You’re walking swiftly, eager to get to your new apartment and end the conversation. The both of you are well aware that Atsumu’s more than capable of catching up with you, but he hangs back, preferring to watch you babble while he trails behind.

You clutch the donuts closer to your body as words tumble out of your mouth — a list of things that could fit in his sweats, including two jugs of milk and a family size pack of chips — and Atsumu can’t stop the lopsided smile from appearing on his face.

“Maybe a carton of eggs, too,” he suggests.

“Oh, I wouldn’t trust you with eggs,” you say sharply.

“Why not?”

“Are you really asking me that? Last month I lent you my blanket and you gave it back to me with a hole in it.”

“For the last time,” Atsumu begins, quickening so he’s side-by-side with you, “that was Samu’s fault, not mine.”

“…Alright.”

“Y/N,” he whines. “I’m serious! None of that was on me — I even bought you a new blanket! Would Samu have done that? I don’t think so—”

“Actually—”

“The point is,” Atsumu interrupts, throwing you a glare before continuing, “blame Samu. Whenever something bad happens, blame him. That’s what I always do.”

“Spoken like a true, responsible individual.”

“Hey!” he protests. “I’m responsible!”

You open your mouth to deny his claims, but the pout he plasters over his face is enough for you to give in. Too tired to give him something as golden as a verbal agreement, you opt for changing the subject. “Do you think Sakusa will like the donuts?”

Atsumu frowns. “Why does it matter? They’re donuts.”

You grow annoyed at his impertinence. “I want him to like me, you moron.”

His expression sours further. “He’s your friend.”

“And I won a game of rock, paper, scissors, so now I’m his roommate,” you remark. “There’s a difference between being friends with someone and living with them. I mean, would you want to live with Bokuto?”

Atsumu’s answer is swift. “Hell no.”

“Exactly,” you say, “I need us to get along.”

You stop in front of a door and begin searching your pockets for your key. There’s a pinch between your eyebrows, the box trembles as you struggle to balance it with one hand, and your clothes are a mess, but underneath the fluorescent light of the hallway, Atsumu can’t help but think you almost look angelic.

He shakes the thought away, squashes it beneath his foot until the remnants of it have been absorbed by the carpet.

“The last time I saw you this nervous was when you asked out that barista,” he muses.

You dig your hand into the breast pocket of your shirt and huff when you find nothing. “What are you implying?”

Atsumu stares pointedly at the sticker on the box. Your face morphs into one of horror.

“Are you dense?”

“Calligraphy, Y/N. I’ve never seen you write calligraphy in my entire life.”

“I was trying something out!”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

You smack him on the shoulder. “I was being thoughtful,” you grunt, softening when Atsumu winces and rubs the spot where you hit him. “He’s my friend, and that’s all he ever will be.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

Your eyes leave him for a millisecond, flickering to somewhere else on his face before returning his gaze once more. “Of course,” you say softly, “Besides, I—”

The door swings open.

“You’re loud,” Sakusa deadpans in the doorway. His eyes travel down to the donuts. “Are those for me?”

You hand them over to him. “Yeah, I didn’t know what you liked, so they’re all assorted.”

Sakusa hums in thanks before tilting his head at Atsumu. “Why’re you here?”

“To help them move in,” Atsumu grins, placing a hand on your shoulder and squeezing it. “I know you’re going to the drycleaners, and I couldn’t let Y/N do this all by themselves.”

Sakusa shrugs and turns to go further into the apartment. “Sounds good to me. I’d rather not have to press those nasty elevator buttons multiple times just so I can come down and get your stuff,” he gives you the best apologetic look he can muster. “Have fun, though.”

Before you can go on a tangent about how Sakusa should be more welcoming, Atsumu pipes up, “Yeah, don’t worry! ‘S all in good hands,” he nudges you with his elbow. “Right? Your stuff can’t be that heavy.”

Atsumu, not for the first time and certainly not the last, stands corrected.

Not only is your stuff heavy, but there’s much more than he expected.

With each trip down to the parking lot, his muscles grow strained, and he feels the fatigue threaten to droop his eyelids shut. But, in the corner of his eyes, he sees your persistence to get this over and done with, and Atsumu decides it won’t hurt to push through.

His complaining and wailing can wait until later.

After you place the last box into your new bedroom, you turn to him while wiping the sweat from your forehead. “Thank you,” you say breathlessly.

He goes to tease you, to say that you owe him now, that you’ll be indebted to him for life.

But what comes out of his mouth instead is: “‘Course. Call me whenever you want, and I’ll be there.”

Atsumu calls it a housewarming gift. Sakusa says there is hardly anything warming about it.

It referring to the group of boys gathered in the living room — your friends on good days, the bane of your existence on all the others — with their limbs strewn about and their soda cans sitting too close to the edge of the coffee table. It’s an odd sight for Sakusa to have this many people over on a Thursday night, but Atsumu insisted, and he caught Sakusa on a good day when he asked if he could hold a movie night at the apartment to celebrate your new accommodations.

You’re sure Sakusa regrets it now. He sits in his armchair with a permanent scowl, swatting Hinata away when the boy reaches to fix the crease between Sakusa’s brows. If looks could kill, Atsumu would’ve been dropped dead ten minutes ago.

He covers his fear with a grin, but out of the corner of his mouth, he says to you, “Help me.”

You snicker. “You’re on your own, dude.”

“I thought I told you to stop calling me that.”

“What? But Bokuto calls you that, too!”

“Yeah, but it’s Bokuto.”

“I have no idea what you mean by that.”

Atsumu only tsks, forcibly ending the conversation by suggesting to the room that they should all play a game to decide who’ll prepare all the popcorn. A chorus of agreements is what he gets in response, along with someone complaining about how he should be spared due to his gruelling volleyball practice, and another person expressing his sympathies for the future loser.

Atsumu prepares the ladder game, and after he’s done, he looks at everyone with fiery hot intensity, an expression similar to one he wears during a match. “Remember,” he declares, “whoever loses can’t complain.”

Luck isn’t on his side tonight.

“What the hell!” he screeches once the reality of his defeat settles in.

Osamu, far too smug for Atsumu’s liking, quips, “I thought you said no complaining.”

The noise that leaves Atsumu’s mouth is something akin to a pathetic but animalistic growl. He goes to protest, even raising his hand to list off reasons why he’s been wronged — someone must’ve cheated, or maybe everyone in this room has a ruthless vendetta against him — but just as the words are about to leave his lips, his eyes land on you.

You challenge him to complain with a look, and he suddenly gets a much better idea.

“Y/N,” he says sweetly, growing pleased at your uneasiness. “As the host of this housewarming party, it’s only fair that you help me, too.”

“What?” you squawk, leaning forward as if you’ve misheard him. “But you were the one who suggested doing all of this! How is it now on me to help—”

“Well, he wouldn’t have done this if it wasn’t for you,” Sakusa muses.

You stare at him in disbelief. “Are you taking his side? What happened to roommate solidarity?”

“You just made that up,” Sakusa replies. “Besides, this thing will go by faster if two people prepare the popcorn, and I don’t think Miya wants anyone else other than you.”

Atsumu shifts uncomfortably at the implication, and he involuntarily commits your surprised expression to memory.

(When he goes to sleep later that night, your surprise is all he sees against the darkness of his eyelids).

“Other than me—?”

“To make the popcorn,” Sakusa drawls matter-of-factly.

You blink. “Right.” You look at Atsumu, and he shrugs dumbly, unsure of how else to react to your sudden change in behaviour.

To him, you have always been easy to read, but right now, he’s not entirely sure if there’s a word for the expression on your face. He yearns to press a hand to your cheek to melt the malaise away, to be rid of it forever so he can see you smiling again.

Something in his chest twists.

“Right!” you repeat, more loudly this time, and startling the rest of your friends. You slap your hands on your lap before standing and grabbing Atsumu’s wrist to pull him away. “I guess I’m helping you make popcorn. You owe me one, Miya.”

Your skin is warmer than usual, threatening to burn him until your fingerprints are marked onto his skin.

(Behind him, Suna stage-whispers, “You are so whipped, Y/N.”)

Your touch disappears the moment you’ve both crossed the threshold into the kitchenette. Atsumu flexes his hand, trying to get rid of an urge in his veins he can’t quite explain.

“Hey,” you say casually, back turned to him as you dig through the cabinets for the popcorn packets. “Did you finish that essay for literature class?”

Atsumu awkwardly clears his throat and begins playing with the settings on the microwave. “The paper?”

“Yes, the paper,” you say. “The one I told you to start two weeks ago so you wouldn’t end up sending a half-assed essay two minutes before the deadline?”

“Why are you talking like you think I didn’t start it yet?”

“Because I know you, Tsumu,” you reply, shutting the cabinet with your elbow and ungracefully dropping the packets onto the counter beside him. “And I lost faith in your ability to listen to me a long time ago.”

“How rude. I always listen to you,” he sticks his nose in the air like a scorned, evil, cartoon antagonist, “I just don’t take all your suggestions. There’s a difference.”

“You make my life so much harder,” you huff, inputting a minute-thirty into the microwave. “I honestly think I lose ten years of my lifespan whenever you tell me you’ve gotten yourself into another dilemma.”

“Don’t be dramatic. I’m sure you only lose, like, three at most.”

“No, it’s definitely ten,” you say. “You worry me too much, Miya.”

The smile on Atsumu’s face, previously smug and confident, softens.

“Seriously, though,” you continue, jabbing a finger into his sternum. “The paper? It’s due tonight.”

He flicks your nose, snorting when you pull a face. “I sent it in this morning.”

“Seriously?”

“Hey! Don’t act so shocked!”

“Well, this is, like, the first time you’ve ever done something even remotely responsible, so—”

“I thought we both agreed I’m a generally responsible person.”

Your silence is enough of a response.

Atsumu gasps just as the microwave beeps, allowing you to ignore his stunned expression in order to begin preparing another bag of kernels.

“Give me one reason—”

“The blanket—”

“—that isn’t the blanket,” he says sourly. “That doesn’t count. I told you that was Samu’s fault, not mine.”

“Do you want a list? Because I have one.”

“Are you serious or are you just fucking with me?”

“Osamu and I have a Google Doc.”

Another gasp. You roll your eyes.

“Now you’re in kahoots with my brother? What’s next? Planning my downfall with Suna?”

“I’m sure he’s fine doing that himself without my help.”

He whines, stomping his foot when you only stare back in amusement. “Don’t be so unrepentant, Y/N!”

You dump the contents of the hot popcorn bags into a large bowl for everyone to share. “Unrepentant? Was that the word on your word-of-the-day calendar?”

“Shut up. You know only Kuroo has lame stuff like that,” Atsumu grumbles, throwing the last popcorn packet into the faulty brick of power you and Sakusa call a microwave. “I used it in my essay. Thesauruses are a godsend. It really came in handy when I was writing about the flower symbolism in the book. Y’know what’s even better, though? SparkNotes.”

You tilt your head, studying Atsumu with furrowed eyebrows. “Huh.”

“What d’you mean huh?”

“Nothing,” you say innocently. “I just didn’t think you’d choose that essay topic, that’s all.”

“It was the easiest one,” he states. You hum in agreement, but he can sense you falling into a state of pondering before it even happens, so he lightly pokes your shoulder in hopes it’ll be enough to keep you from drifting too far from his reach. “Why, what did you think I picked?”

He can tell you’re debating what to tell him, letting a few seconds pass before you give in. “I thought you’d do the one that centred more around…” you trail off, clenching and unclenching your jaw, “the love aspect of it all.”

He blinks. “Why?”

Childishly, you retort, “Why not?”

Atsumu licks his lips. “Well, you’re always telling me to write what I know. And I may not know a whole lot about flowers, but I know more about those than, y’know, love.”

Something passes over your face, the same thing he saw when Sakusa said something — implied something — in the living room. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he answers. “I’ve had relationships, sure, but none that made me feel anything like— like that.”

You drum your fingers against the bowl. “None at all?”

“None at all.”

You click your tongue and stare at the microwave. Its buzz has become more prominent in your silence, a mocking hum hanging over the air as you contemplate and Atsumu stares, waiting impatiently for a word to slip past your lips.

But there’s nothing. Instead, the microwave beeps again, indicating that the last of the popcorn is ready.

“That’s good to know,” you say lightly. At least, that’s what you attempt, but you sound different, like a parasite has found solace in your vocal cords and fiddled with everything Atsumu’s familiar with.

“It is?”

“Yeah,” you nod, handing the bowl over to him. Popcorn threatens to spill but Atsumu can’t bring himself to care. “Hey, be careful. What, is it too heavy? Are you too weak to carry it?”

“It’s popcorn,” Atsumu rasps.

You eye him oddly, as if he’s the one whose behaviour should be examined under a microscope. “Don’t spill it everywhere. Sakusa’ll get pissed, and we’re already pushing it with this movie night thing.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Of course,” you agree. “But if you need me—”

“I know,” he interjects.

Simple promises are often uttered during private moments between you and Atsumu — an oath to be there for the other, to stand by their side no matter what. The words soothe him when they’re said aloud; he knows, underneath all the teasing and the bickering and the irritated eyerolls, is your pinky and his, intertwined.

And despite the voice in his head taunting him about a secret he’s unaware of, he allows the promise to enchant him.

I’ll be there for you.

“Do you need help?”

Atsumu grunts, adjusting your arm around his neck as he opens the car door. “No, I’m fine.”

“Thanks for picking them up,” Aran says, voice loud above the frat house’s music, “I know you were tired from practice, but—”

“It’s fine. I probably would’ve killed you if you didn’t call me, anyway.”

“Osamu said you’d say that.”

Atsumu expertly brushes off the statement, gently ushering you into the passenger’s seat and putting your seatbelt on with gentle fingers. Behind him, Aran watches the movements with thoughtful eyes and a quirk of his eyebrows.

“The last time they got this drunk was at the fall festival last year,” he muses. “For your sake, I hope it doesn’t happen again.”

“What does that mean?”

“Hm?”

“For your sake,” Atsumu echoes, turning to face Aran once the door’s been shut and he’s made sure you’re sleeping soundlessly with your head resting against the cold window. Atsumu stands pin-straight, his posture contrasting the way Aran stands opposite him, relaxed with his hands stuffed in his pockets. “What’s that mean?”

Aran laughs, like he’s unsure if this is a serious question. “Well, I mean… they’re always asking for you whenever they get drunk like this.”

“I guess so, yeah.”

“That’s why you got here in record time, right?” Off Atsumu’s questioning gaze, Aran continues, “I called you five minutes ago, and your place is a fifteen-minute drive away. And you’re not in your pajamas, even though you said you’d change into them the moment you got home.”

“I was in the area,” Atsumu says weakly.

“Doing what?”

“Getting dinner.”

“Why didn’t you just get something delivered to your apartment?”

“Is it illegal to want to pick up the food myself?”

Aran raises his hands up in defence. “No, it’s not, but it’s also not illegal to say you knew this would happen,” he shrugs. “You knew they’d need you Atsumu, so you came. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Before Atsumu can force a response from his throat, Aran has already slipped back into the party, leaving Atsumu alone on the street. With an annoyed huff, he stomps to the driver’s side, muttering irked questions under his breath about what Aran could possibly mean. He opens the door with more aggression than necessary, only softening when he sees you stir underneath the jacket he’s draped over you to keep you warm.

He unlocks his phone when he feels a buzz in his pocket.

[00:30] Atsumu: are you still awake?

[00:48] Sakusa: Yes. Why?

Atsumu knows that your apartment’s farther from here than his, and he’s sure that by the time he arrives, Sakusa won’t answer the door because he’ll grow tired of Atsumu’s lack of response and go to bed.

The decision is made when he takes a right instead of a left, when he pulls into a parking lot that isn’t yours, when he carries your body up the stairwell and into his bed with ease.

Everything else comes as routine. He tucks the blanket under your chin, moves the glass of water so it’s too far for you to accidentally knock over in the morning, and leaves a change of clothes at the foot of the bed.

Atsumu likes routine. He likes the predictability of it all.

A groggy voice stops him from leaving the room.

“Tsumu?”

“Hey,” he whispers, crouching so he’s eye-level with you. “I hope you don’t mind I brought you back here.”

You blink sleepily at him, too inebriated and fatigued to acknowledge his words. “You’re a really good person, y’know,” you say languidly.

He smiles, amused. “Really?”

“Yeah. Thank you for picking me up.”

“It’s nothing,” he murmurs.

“It’s not.”

“I’m sure you would’ve been fine without me. Omi could’ve picked you up, couldn’t he? Samu could’ve, too.”

“I know, but you’re the one who always does,” you respond, nuzzling further into the pillow. “You’ve—you’ve helped me a lot.”

You shakily reach a hand to his face, playing with the strands of hair that fall to his forehead. He relaxes, eyelids growing heavy at the feeling of your featherlike touch against his cool skin.

“You’ve brightened up my life, I think,” your voice is muffled, but it rings in Atsumu’s ears clear as day, almost as loud as his quickening heart rate. “I appreciate you a lot more than you know.”

ii. Power

He watches with bated breath as the ball cuts through the air while gravity begins to pull Hinata back to Earth. Everything unfolds in slow motion; everything has faded into white noise.

With a slam, the volleyball connects with the ground, and it’s only when he’s pulled into a hug does the reverie shatter. Like being hauled out from underwater, the roars of the crowd flood his ears as Bokuto begins jumping on the balls of his feet and Hinata comes rushing over to them with a triumphant shout.

On the other side of Bokuto, Sakusa smiles, rolling his eyes fondly when Hinata and Bokuto begin making post-game plans to celebrate their victory. Atsumu, on the other hand, is uncharacteristically silent as he searches the bleachers with a cloudy look in his eyes.

He’s snapped out of it once again when Bokuto tugs on his wrist so they can go and listen to what their coach has to say.

Atsumu isn’t a stranger to winning — he used to get drunk on this sort of stuff, the exhilarating rush that shot through his veins after every successful game. He basks in the crowd’s excitement and admiration, because to be fawned over is the closest to love he’s ever been (if he could even call it that), but once the adrenaline cuts him off and he’s left alone in the locker room, it all fizzles out.

Something’s missing at the end of all this. Usually, the void in his chest is insignificant enough for him to brush off. However, today is different.

It’s abnormal for the power of the win to dwindle into nothingness only minutes after the game ends, but the blue moon has risen tonight, and now everything feels weird. The cheers aren’t enough to keep him from searching the gymnasium for a familiar face, and he itches to get to his phone in the locker room when he can’t find who he’s looking for.

“Why do you look like we’ve lost?” Bokuto asks. “C’mon, man! Smile! We just won! Aren’t you happy?”

“Of course I am,” Atsumu grunts.

(But…)

But.

The adrenaline shoots through him again when a voice he knows all too well catches his attention over the noise.

“Hey!” you rush towards them, dishevelled. “Before you get mad, I know I missed the game, I took a nap and slept through it, fuck, I am never going to stay up late playing Fortnite with you again, Tsumu, you’ve ruined my sleep schedule, but—” you huff, trying to catch your breath as you hand Atsumu a bag, “I’m sorry that I didn’t come. Congrats on winning, I heard the shouts from down the street.”

Atsumu smiles and peers into the bag. “What is this?”

“Mochi,” you answer. “A celebratory gift for my favourite setter.”

“I’m the only setter you know.”

“Which is why you’re my favourite.”

Atsumu snorts but hugs the bag to his chest, like it’s his most prized possession and he’d drag it along to the grave with him. “Thank you.”

If someone were to ask Atsumu if he liked the pedestal he’s put on after a match, he’d say yes. Of course he does. He quite likes it on top of the world.

But you match his joyful smile with one of your own and Atsumu finds himself rethinking his answer. “Anytime.”

The top of the world may be nice, but it is nothing compared to being on the ground next to you.

“You know what they say. With great power comes great responsibility.”

“Would you relax?” Sakusa snarls. “You’re in charge of us for a day. Get your head out of your ass.”

On the floor, Hinata lays like a starfish as he stares up at the ceiling, cheeks tainted a bright pink hue. “I think power’s gotten to your head.”

Atsumu waves him off. “I think this is the best practice we’ve ever had.”

Their captain had to run out five minutes into practice — relationship problems is what he grumbled to Atsumu before leaving him in charge without a second thought, much to the rest of the team’s dismay.

“I hope you’re never put it in charge again,” Bokuto complains before downing the rest of his water.

“Don’t be dramatic—”

“Do you know how gruelling this practice must be for Hinata to be tired?”

“Give us a break,” Hinata pleads, shifting his position so he’s on his knees. “Please. I’ll buy you lunch for the rest of the month if you end our suffering.”

Atsumu pretends to ponder the offer and grows more amused as Hinata begins to twitch nervously. “Okay, fine,” he relents.

Hinata cries with glee, hugging Atsumu’s legs before pushing himself off the floor and rushing out of the gymnasium — whether it’s to refill his water bottle or hide until he’s found, Atsumu may never know. With a snort, Atsumu grabs his own bottle amongst the rest on the bench, promising Bokuto absentmindedly that he’ll go easy on them for the rest of the day.

“I want to have at least a little energy left for the party at Kuroo’s tonight,” Bokuto adds, his smile widening when Atsumu nods in agreement. “See, I knew you’d get it!”

Sakusa takes a seat on the bench. “Are you going to the party, Miya?”

“Yeah, Y/N’s forcing me to come with,” Atsumu says. “How about you?”

Bokuto answers for him. “I’m making him come!” he exclaims. “You’ll have so much fun, Omi, you don’t have to worry.”

Sakusa deadpans, “I’m only staying for five minutes.”

Bokuto waves off his iciness with a flippant hand. “I’ll convince you to stay longer.”

“I really doubt that.”

“Don’t underestimate me!” Bokuto huffs. He turns away from Sakusa before he can continue to argue and focusses on Atsumu. “It’s good that you’re coming too, Tsum-Tsum! Maybe you can finally meet the guy Y/N’s going on a date with.”

Atsumu halts, hand tightening around his bottle. “What?”

“Some guy from their Psychology class asked them out a few days ago,” Bokuto says obliviously. “I think it was the night you picked them up? I don’t know. I think he was nice, though. Y/N probably already told you about it.”

You didn’t.

Atsumu forces a grin on his face. “Right, they did.”

Sakusa studies his expression with pinched eyebrows.

Atsumu’s cheeks hurt for the rest of practice, a consequence of the cheerful façade he’s plastered, but the pain subsides — if only for a moment — when he sees you outside the gymnasium, carrying your favourite boba drink in one hand, and his favourite in the other.

“Hey!” you greet, handing him the drink. “How was practice?”

“Awful,” Hinata mopes with a pout. “Your boyfriend here was running it like the navy.”

You frown. Atsumu blanches. “My boyfriend…?”

“Yeah!” Hinata slaps Atsumu on the back. “Him.”

All colour drains from your face. Your grip on your cup loosens for a split second before tightening it again in panic. You look from Hinata, the picture of innocence, to Atsumu, who only stares back, just as bewildered.

Hinata seems to take the hint as his eyes flicker between the two of you in confusion. “Sorry, I… I overheard Bokuto saying you were going on a date with someone, so I assumed—”

“Date?” you interrupt frantically, arms flapping to deny the words that have recklessly tumbled from Hinata’s mouth. “With who— with Atsumu? He’s not— we’re not— I’m not— we’re—”

“We’re friends,” Atsumu finishes, saving you from your stammering. You look at him gratefully, and he can only offer a weak smile in return. “I don’t know why you’d think we’re dating, Shoyo.”

“Sorry—”

“They’re going on a date with someone else.”

You narrow your eyes. “What do you—?”

“Oh, hey,” Sakusa says as he walks out of the doors. He tugs on the string of his mask to make sure it’s secure before nodding at you. “Did you stop by the grocery store yet?”

Atsumu’s words are long forgotten when realization engulfs your figure at the speed of light. “Oh, no! I took a nap and—”

“You really need to fix your sleep schedule.”

“I’ll have you know I slept four hours last night.”

“…That’s not a good thing.”

“It’s an hour more than usual.”

The genuine concern is evident in Sakusa’s eyes before he rubs his temples with a sigh. “Okay, whatever. Let’s go to the store before we head home, I need to buy more protein powder.”

“Ay, ay, captain.”

“Don’t call me that.”

You snicker then turn to Atsumu with a smile he’d move mountains for. “I’ll see you later, Tsumu?”

“Yeah, sure,” he murmurs. “Don’t take too long to get ready.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you say, patting his cheek. “Thanks for agreeing to drive me there and back.”

He finds himself involuntarily leaning into your touch. “Don’t mention it.”

Your touch lingers for a second too long before you salute him in goodbye and rush to follow Sakusa to your car. Atsumu watches as your figure gets smaller and smaller, a smile on his face as you glance over your shoulder and stick your tongue out when you catch him staring.

He flips you off and makes sure to stick his tongue out, too, in hopes that it’ll make you laugh loud enough for him to hear.

(He doesn’t notice the mischievous glint in Sakusa’s eyes, nor does he catch his name slipping past Sakusa’s lips).

(But he does notice you tilt your head, lost in thought, before you look at him again, attempting to figure him out despite the distance.

He thinks nothing of it).

Just after his 9am lecture, someone asks Atsumu out on a date.

She’s nice and easy on the eyes; a little timid, but he supposes that’s just the affect he has on people. Big man on campus is what he’s always referred to as, until they realize that he’s nothing if not a goofball off-court. Still, the girl — Miwa is what she said her name was — doesn’t know that yet, so Atsumu gives her the benefit of the doubt.

And he says yes.

At 11:00, the whole team has caught wind of his evening plans, and Sakusa texts him to tell him he’s an idiot. Atsumu frowns, asks why, but Sakusa doesn’t reply.

At 6:00, an hour before his date, he shows up on your doorstep with a bag of clothes and a tie loose around his neck. His left pant leg is tucked into his sock and the other is haphazardly cuffed; his hair is all over the place, sticking up at the back as the result of a hair-gel disaster.

You stare at him with pinched eyebrows. “What do you need?”

“I’ve got a date,” he explains frantically. “I need your help.”

You hesitantly let him in.

At 6:15 is when the argument occurs. The reason why is something Atsumu can’t recall, only that it was something so small and insignificant that the argument shouldn’t have even happened in the first place. He thinks you may have been in a bad mood before he even arrived, but that doesn’t change the fact that you haven’t talked to him in the past five hours.

Oh, right. And the power goes out at 6:45.

He texts Miwa to cancel, promising to reschedule on a day where they won’t be talking to each other in the dark, but his phone dies before he gets a response. With a shrug, he tosses it onto the coffee table and makes a mental note to charge it as soon as the power comes back on, knowing full well that he’ll forget the reminder the second he makes it.

He should feel more guilty about the fact that he cares more about your absence than his postponed date.

Atsumu stares at your door for far too long before deciding that he’ll apologize to you — for what, he doesn’t know, but apologize first, ask questions later is his motto — once you’ve left your room. He’ll grovel and get on his knees and even humiliate himself if he has to, as long as it gets you to talk to him again, because God knows he’ll never survive this outage by himself.

(Also, you’re his best friend, and — Atsumu has never told anybody this — the last time you gave him the silent treatment, his chest physically hurt from not speaking to you that he vowed to never anger you again).

It’s 11:35, and you still haven’t left your room.

For the past few hours, you’ve been watching Netflix without headphones to torture a bored Atsumu, but the noises stopped about ten minutes ago, meaning your phone must’ve died too, so it’s only a matter of time before you leave your room in hopes of finding something to do.

Atsumu’s almost giddy at the thought.

At 11:50, he makes his move.

He hears the creaking of your door and your socked feet softly padding in the hallway. Atsumu’s always tried going to sleep early so he can hit the gym before it gets too busy the next morning, so you must’ve waited the latest you could bear with the assumption that he had fallen asleep on the couch.

Atsumu tiptoes to the end of the hallway, teeth bright compared to the darkness of the apartment, and his grin only widens when you finally see him.

You blink before scoffing, brushing past him to enter the kitchenette.

“Y/N,” he says, attempting to be stern but it comes off as a whine in his desperation. “Look at me.” You spare him a glance. Atsumu deems that’s good enough. “Listen, I’m sorry.”

He watches you open a cupboard and fill your glass with water. The seconds that pass by are agonizingly slow and Atsumu shifts uncomfortably when the silence drags on.

Finally, you look at him, unamused, and say, “What exactly are you sorry for?”

He purses his lips in thought. “Uh…”

Rolling your eyes, you turn to make your way back to your room.

“Wait! Wait,” Atsumu shouts, rushing over to block the exit. His eyes dart all over the kitchen in hopes the walls will have the answer to your question. You tap your foot impatiently, and it’s only when you go to open your mouth to tell him to move that he blurts out, “I’m sorry for eating the rest of your chocolate cake.”

You look at him incredulously. “That was you?”

“Yeah, I— wait, you’re not mad about that?”

“I am now!” you huff, using an arm to try and shove him out of the way, but he catches your wrist.

“Then I don’t get it!” he groans. “What did I do?”

You give him a once-over. “Well, what didn’t you do?”

“This is about the outfit?”

“You’ve cuffed your slacks, Tsumu. They’re cuffed. No sane person cuffs their slacks.”

He struggles to wrap his head around your response. “You’re mad,” he repeats, then gestures to his outfit confusedly, “about what I’m wearing.”

You seem to realize just how ridiculous it sounds uttered out loud, because you pout. “Not just that.”

“Then what else?”

You stumble over your words before you coherently state, “You’re going on a date.”

He frowns. “Yes.”

“You’re going on a date,” you say again when it’s obvious he’s not catching on to what you mean. When all Atsumu can manage is a perplexed sound, you add frustratedly, “You’re going on a date, which I don’t understand, since Sakusa told me that I didn’t need to worry anymore, but I guess he’s wrong because you came here asking for my help with looking nice on your night out with Miwa and—”

“Wait,” Atsumu interrupts, still puzzled. “What did Sakusa tell you?”

“He told me not to worry.”

“Worry about what?”

That snaps you out of it.

You open and close your mouth like a fish out of water. Then, you cross your arms over your chest, muttering out a response with feigned nonchalance, “Whatever.”

Atsumu protests, “Hey, I—”

“Where were you even going to take her?” you swiftly change the subject, and Atsumu decides that he’ll let it go — that’s what he’s been doing for a while, anyway, and another day really couldn’t hurt, could it?

“Dancing,” he says.

“Dancing?”

“Yes,” he responds, relaxing at the sight of your amusement. “I searched up unique date ideas and Google told me to take her dancing.”

“You should’ve just taken her to dinner,” you say. “Because you can’t dance.”

“That’s not true at all.”

“You were born with two left feet.”

“Quit lying, you’re only saying that because you’re mad at me.”

“I’m only telling you the truth!”

“I’m a good dancer!”

“You really aren’t. I thought that was established two weeks ago when we were playing Just Dance and you knocked over Aran’s vase.”

“That says nothing about my ability to—”

“Yes, it does.”

“I’ll prove it.”

“Yeah, okay, sure.”

“I’m serious,” he says, stretching his hand out for you to take.

You look at his palm and back up at him. “You’re kidding.”

“Not in any way, shape, or form.”

“We don’t even have music—”

“I’ll sing,” he shakes his hand. “C’mon, hurry up, my arm’s getting tired.”

Without a second thought, you interlace your fingers with his as he whisks you around the kitchen, his laugh loud when you yelp at his fast movements. He places his other hand on the small of your back to keep you from slipping on the tile as he leans to whisper into your ear.

“Any song requests?”

“None. You’re an awful singer,” you retort, bristling at the warmth of his breath.

“So, what are you saying? You’d rather waltz in silence?”

“Yes. And I wouldn’t even call this waltzing. We’re just sliding around the kitchen.”

“We’re waltzing,” Atsumu says firmly, daring you to argue. You only sigh, letting him pull you closer as you two clumsily move around the room. He sings your favourite song despite your insistence for him not to, humming the parts he doesn’t know and doing his best to hit every note.

You laugh into his chest, and he makes sure the sound is trapped in his ribcage so he’ll never have to go a day without it.

When the song reaches its end, you place your head on his shoulder, your breath piercing through his blazer and skin. “I’m sorry that I got mad at you,” you whisper despite the quiet, as if making your voice any louder will shatter the atmosphere. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“It’s okay,” he murmurs.

“It’s not, but thanks for trying to make me feel better,” you say timidly. “I guess I just got my hopes up.”

Atsumu tries to get the information out of you again, the very thing that’s been bothering you — and, as a result, him — for weeks. “About what?”

Your fingers tighten around his. “Nothing,” you answer, and if you notice just how much his posture deflates then you say nothing of it. “Can we stay like this for a little while?”

“Yeah, of course,” he says, rubbing circles onto the back of your hand. “We can stay for as long as you want.”

iii. Love

“You’re gonna get it in my eye!”

“Then stay still!”

“Just promise not to poke me.”

“I’ve already promised five times.”

“Then promise again!”

“Tsumu—” you sigh, slumping your shoulders as you meet his defiant gaze. “I promise I won’t get anything into your eyes or your mouth or your nostrils. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Atsumu narrows his eyes. “For some reason that doesn’t make me feel much better.”

You groan. “We’ve been over this millions of times—”

“Sue me for thinking you’re still mad at me.”

“I told you—”

“Sakusa got into my head,” he explains for the umpteenth time that evening, “he keeps on saying I’ve done something wrong, but he won’t tell me what, and he keeps looking at me as if I’ve committed a felony. His face keeps me up at night, it’s the reason why I’ve had so many nightmares recently—”

“Sakusa’s being a nuisance. Trust me, you haven’t done anything wrong,” you assure, your voice echoing off the walls of your tiny bathroom. “You have nothing to worry about, so stop acting like I’m trying to kill you with this face mask.”

He stares pointedly at the tub sitting next to you on the sink. “It’s scarily green,” he whispers conspiratorially. “Like, it’s Hulk-green. Nothing should be that green.”

“If you’re implying it’s poisonous, it’s not.”

“That’s what they want you to think.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you grumble, spreading the mask across his cheeks, ignoring his murmured whines about how cold it feels on his skin. “You weren’t acting like this last time.”

“You were using a different face mask last time,” he rebuts. “I liked the other one better than this one.”

“Well, I’ll keep that in mind the next time I go to the store,” you hum. “Maybe I’ll even take you with me, so you can choose the face mask. It’ll save me from your complaining in the future.”

“You love my complaining,” he replies quickly. “But I really should. I’d make your grocery trips so much more fun.”

“You’d get us kick out.”

“Would not!” Atsumu scoffs when you don’t even bother to hide your unconvinced mien and places his hands on either side of the marble countertop, trapping you against him and the sink. “I’ll prove it this weekend.”

You shake your head. “I’m not going this weekend. The fall festival is on Saturday, remember? I’m holding off spending money this week so I can buy a ton of cotton candy without feeling guilty.”

“Really?” he snorts. “You’re not gonna get wasted this year?”

“Definitely not. Last year was a nightmare.”

“You don’t even remember what happened.”

“Exactly,” you say, smoothing out the mask. “And you’re always taking care of me when I’m drunk, it makes me feel bad.”

Despite his proximity, you don’t seem to feel the intensity of his stare. His demeanour has softened in the past five minutes, smiling warmly at the pinch between your brows and the way your lips have twisted into a focussed frown.

This has happened countless times before — on all the other self-care nights, Atsumu finds himself in the four walls of your bathroom, free to admire you all he wants without the company of his friends and their teasing remarks. Though he’d never admit it, he prefers the quiet, because here, the both of you aren’t brushing off comments made about your relationship; here, it’s just you and him, pressed against the bathroom sink, worries left behind on the other side of the door.

Here, it’s so peaceful that Atsumu believes, for a few short moments, that everything will be okay.

“Don’t feel bad,” he says breathily, dreading the moment when you finish and he’s forced to pull away. “I like taking care of you.”

“You’re required to do it because we’re friends.”

“No, I like doing it,” he says again, ingraining the statement into your brain so it’ll stay there forever. “You don’t see me letting Bokuto or Hinata — hell, even Suna, stay over at my apartment and sleep in my bed.”

You pause your movements, eyes flickering to his. ��What does that make me then?”

“Huh?”

“Bokuto, Hinata, and Suna are your friends, but you don’t pick them up from parties and let them say the night at your place.”

“Well, that’s cause I can’t be bothered most of the time, since they’re usually going to on-campus parties and my place is so far from—”

“But you picked me up a few nights ago,” you interrupt, and Atsumu is drawn to the determination in your irises more than he wants to admit. “And a couple weeks ago too, I think. You’ve been picking me up before I even moved in with Sakusa, and my old place was thirty minutes away.”

“What are you saying, Y/N?”

“What am I to you, Atsumu?”

He grips the countertop so tightly his knuckles are as white as the marble. His heart drums against his ribcage, so loud in the cavity of his chest that he wonders if you can hear it too.

“You’re my friend.”

“Like Bokuto? Or Hinata, or Su—?”

“No, of course not,” he scoffs. Comparing yourself to them is absurd. “It’s diff— you’re different.”

“Different how?”

Suddenly, everything feels stuffy. Tension floods the room until he’s neck-deep in it and drowning, all while you stare up at him, awaiting an answer.

“I—”

Someone knocks loudly on the door.

“Hey!” Bokuto. “Is someone in here?”

You don’t answer. The ball is in Atsumu’s court.

There’s an answer that lingers in his mind, one that he wants to give you despite the risk that it could destroy everything he’s ever known. But as his hesitation grows, the ring buoy that is Bokuto’s voice becomes more tempting — something to save him from this situation where he’s flailing in hope and what-ifs. Something to save him from your want and his dread and all the other sharp objects that could slice your friendship in two.

(Aren’t you the one who’s always saying he should be more responsible?

Doing this is the most responsible thing he could do, isn’t it?)

“We’ll be right out,” he responds, and just as he replies, you pull away from him in defeat.

Everything in his body tightens.

You turn to wash your hands. Through the mirror, he can see you blink rapidly and clench your jaw.

When he finally goes to exit, Bokuto stands impatiently on the other side. His eyebrows rise when he spots the hairband keeping Atsumu’s blond strands out of his face.

“That’s cute,” Bokuto coos, poking at the heart that sticks out from the material.

“Thanks,” Atsumu says, adjusting the band and letting his fingers brush against the plush heart. “It’s Y/N’s.”

The sun had set a long time ago.

In its absence is the moon, its light barely sufficient to lead you and Atsumu home — home being his apartment, but you’ve been there so much it might as well be your own. It’s alright, though, he thinks; your arm is interlinked with his, and that’s all he’ll ever need to guide him.

Your hips bump his as you both walk down the sidewalk, the air a melody of your laughs as he retells a childhood story about him and Osamu. You fail to refrain the teasing comments that fall from your lips about how he’s always been a troublemaker, long before you ever met him.

“You’re supposed to be on my side,” he’d said a couple minutes ago. “Since I’m your favourite and everything.”

You smile, and every time you do so, the more he believes that the bathroom incident has been forgotten.

But Atsumu’s not stupid. He senses your discomfort — it’s miniscule, but it’s there, and deep down he knows it’s all because of what happened last night.

Every Tuesday, you wait for his evening lecture to finish before you both walk back to his place to watch a movie. Some nights you leave before the clock strikes ten, most nights you stay over. It’s a routine that’s been implemented since he first met you, and never once has it ever felt tense.

Atsumu itches to fix it.

“Hey,” he pipes up, hoping to avoid any uncomfortable lulls in conversation. “You never told me how your date went.”

“My date?”

“Yeah. Bokuto says some guy from your Psychology class asked you out.”

“What?”

“At the party.”

You crinkle your nose in thought before a light bulb goes off in your head. “Are you talking about Kuroo?”

Atsumu’s eyes may as well bulge out of the sockets with how much they’ve widened. “Kuroo asked you out?”

“No,” you say quickly. “Well, yes. But he didn’t mean it. He only did it to get someone to stop bothering him.”

Atsumu frowns. “Then why did Bokuto say—?”

“Bokuto was drunk,” you snicker. “Plus, you know how much of a lightweight he is, and Hinata just kept on giving him drinks, so you can imagine how that went.”

“Not good, probably.”

“Nope,” you say. “Just imagine everything that could’ve gone wrong then double it.”

“Did he puke on Akaashi?”

“Yeah, and on Kuroo too.”

“See, that’s why I never let him stay the night.”

Your smile wavers and he pinches himself for saying anything in the first place.

“That’s probably the only good idea you’ve ever had,” you eventually say, but your voice is weaker than you intend it to be.

Atsumu can’t find the energy to argue.

He allows himself to be pulled down the street, your footsteps hasty compared to how he tries to drag his feet along the cement. Atsumu assumes you want to get this night over with, to spend only an hour — maybe two — with him before bidding goodbye, and the thought causes an ugly feeling to root itself into the pit of his stomach.

The wind whistles in warning. He should’ve expected something like this.

All good things come to an end is something he’s heard far too many times to count, but Atsumu is nothing if not an optimist, and even so, he never thought a saying such as that could ever apply to his friendship with you. Despite the hardships, the two of you have always pulled through.

But the clouds begin to drift over the moon, hindering its light, and his stomach churns at what’s to come.

Your voice, disguised as a remedy to soothe his unease, carries him forward. “Listen, I think I’ll head home after the movie.”

He blinks. “What?”

“I just want to sleep in my own bed tonight, y’know?”

“You can sleep in mine,” he suggests, his tone bordering on a plea. You always sleep in mine. “I can sleep on the couch.”

“It’s okay, Tsumu,” you reply. “You’re probably tired of seeing me all the time, anyway.”

“I’m not,” he insists.

You give him a tight smile in response.

Atsumu’s always believed he was good with words. His voice has failed him before, sure, and it’s not like it’s a secret that sometimes his carelessness lands him in undesirable situations, but he’s usually so quick on his feet. He knows what to say, and if he doesn’t, he can crank up the charm until everyone in the vicinity begins to suffocate on his charisma.

Miya Atsumu is rarely ever speechless.

But then you started acting different, and suddenly he couldn’t decipher your expressions or predict your every move. You would dance with him in the kitchen and tenderly apply skincare products on his face, but no matter how much he pulled you close, you would drift further away. You’d open up before brushing everything off as if he had nothing to worry about.

It's like you haven’t been paying attention at all. If it involved you, Atsumu would always worry.

The question slips out of his mouth too quickly for him to control. “Are you ever gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

“What?”

He stops walking, and as a result, so do you. “Something’s been bothering you,” he says hoarsely. “And I was waiting it out because I thought you’d tell me, but… I feel like you never will.”

You lick your lips — to stall, he thinks, but doing so only spares you a second. “Do you have any guesses?”

“Huh?”

“You’re not an idiot,” you sigh. “You must have some idea.”

(And, perhaps, maybe a small part of him does. You’re his best friend, and he is yours, and you each earned that title by knowing the other like the moon knows the stars, like the stars know the sky, like the sky knows the sun.

He knows, you know he does. But this is irresponsible. It threatens everything).

“I don’t,” he lies.

“Atsumu,” you exhale, as if he’s entangled in your system, “do you really need me to say it?”

He doesn’t answer. You continue, anyway.

Three words are whispered into the dead of night, and the world tilts on its axis.

This was never part of the routine.

“Maybe I should just go home,” you murmur when he doesn’t speak. His fingers twitch, screaming at him to reach out for you as soon as you pull away. “I’ll see you when I see you.”

“Y/N—”

“Just let me go,” you say — you beg. “Please.”

His body screams, his nerves flare, but the messenger between his spinal cord and his brain fails to relay the message that he should do everything in his power to prevent you from leaving.

“Okay,” he responds. His voice sounds like it hasn’t been in use for years, tainted with defeat.

You turn to leave, and for the first time since you’ve met him, Atsumu doesn’t follow.

Atsumu’s moody, he has been for a while, and it doesn’t take long for everyone to realize it’s because of you.

Or, more specifically, the absence of you.

You’ve been spending more time by yourself than you have been with anyone else, cooped up in the safety of your bedroom and listening to — according to Sakusa — music that ranges from soft, heartbroken ballads, to hardcore fuck-you anthems. The lack of your presence is strange; you’ve always been a constant in Atsumu’s life, and to live without it leaves a lingering emptiness in his chest.

He'll catch glimpses of you sometimes on campus, and he feels, what he assumes to be, the same emotion people feel when they claim they’ve spotted Bigfoot.

For a moment, everything feels a little more bearable.

But then you disappear, leaving sorrow in your wake, and reality washes over him like an ice-cold bucket of water.

His moping is how he ends up tagging along with Bokuto and Hinata at the fall festival, trailing after them like an upset puppy while they frolic down the streets, gawking at all the stands and taste-testing every snack they come across. The plan was to have them cheer him up, to make him smile even if it’s only for a second, because when Atsumu is upset, it becomes everyone else’s problem.

Hinata offers him some funnel cake and Atsumu absentmindedly murmurs about how it’s your favourite. They all buy friendship bracelets and Atsumu buys one for you too because he knows how much you’d want one. They all clamber onto the carousel and Atsumu wonders if you’d fall off if you rode the horse.

Bokuto and Hinata get tired of it all eventually.

“He’s hopeless,” Bokuto cries when they reunite with Suna and Osamu. “He won’t stop whining.”

Atsumu opts for standing on his toes to look over the crowd in hopes of finding you instead of replying to his friend. His eyes drift first to the ring toss, then to the man selling cotton candy, then to the spinning teacups.

Nothing.

Osamu says something that finally catches his brother’s attention. “Well, Y/N’s not coming,” he waves his phone in the air, which is open on his message thread with you. “Said they were busy.”

Hinata huffs. “They’re only saying that cause Tsumu’s here.”

Bokuto slaps his arm. “Shoyo!”

“What? It’s true!” he exclaims defensively. “You know how they’re always on top of their assignments, I doubt they’re doing anything but watching TV and—”

“Yeah, but still, don’t say that! Isn’t Tsum-Tsum heartbroken enough?”

“I am not heartbroken,” Atsumu snarls.

Suna gives him a look. “Well…”

“I’m not!” he flails, frantically gesturing to himself to show that he’s perfectly fine. “I mean, yeah, am I a little upset? Yes. But heartbroken? You guys are just saying anything at this point, like—”

Osamu interrupts him before he can continue rambling and digging himself into a bigger hole. “What did you even do, anyway?”

The Miya twins are notorious on campus for their bickering, but Atsumu thought that in this situation, at least his own brother would be on his side. “What makes you think this is all my fault?”

Osamu raises an eyebrow, mocking and patronizing. “Well, for one—”

“If anything,” Atsumu continues, hurriedly cutting him off, “I should be the one avoiding them. Not that I’d want to, I’d never want to, obviously, but if we were getting technical then they should be the one worrying about me and not the other way around.”

Hinata speaks, mouth full of the last of his funnel cake. “Who says they don’t worry about you?”

“I— wait, what?”

“They’re always asking me and Shoyo about how you’re doing,” Bokuto chirps. “How screwed up could things be that you won’t talk to each other?”

Atsumu inhales, and he feels the world begin to collapse into him. Unsure of what to say, unsure of what to think, unsure if it’s fair of him to reach for his phone and hope you’ll answer his calls. He knows why the two of you have found yourselves here, standing on opposite sides of a field of regret and hurt. He knows, that in his attempt to dodge change, he blew something up in the process.

Suna tilts his head in question. “Atsumu. What happened?”

Atsumu exhales. “They told me that—” the words lodge themselves in his throat, unwilling to leave.

But they all understand.

“Huh,” Suna hums. “Didn’t think they had it in them.”

“What did you reply with?” Osamu asks.

Atsumu prepares himself for their rage. “Nothing.”

He’s met with silence. Then, incredulously, Suna asks, “Are you stupid?”

Osamu answers for him. “Chronically so.”

Atsumu doesn’t have the heart to respond to the jab, and the severity of the situation significantly increases.

Hinata bites the inside of his cheek in thought. “I think he’s broken.”

Bokuto leans forward to study Atsumu’s expression as much as he can before the latter waves him off. With a frown, Bokuto steps back and looks around the grounds, hoping to find something that’ll cheer Atsumu up and make tonight not a complete bust.

A tent, flashy and sparkly and enchanting, lures him in.

Osamu looks like he’s about to say something, but before he can utter a word, Bokuto tugs on Atsumu’s sleeve and drags him to the tent, ignoring his protests. “I have an idea,” he says reassuringly, but it does nothing to calm his friend. “Trust me on this.”

Atsumu snatches his arm back and rubs it as if Bokuto’s harmed him. He cranes his neck around to look at the sign just outside the tent, and scowls at the pink and yellow doodles on the chalkboard.

“This is a psychic.”

Bokuto nods vigorously. “Yes.”

“Your idea of cheering me up is having me scammed?”

Bokuto pouts. “You love stuff like this.”

He’s not wrong. If it were any other day, this place would be Atsumu’s first stop. He’d be the one begging people to join him despite the fact that he knows the consequences involve a dent in his bank account, but today, predictions of his future are the last thing on his mind. Today, convincing people to get their fortune read is the least of his desires, because you aren’t trying to convince people with him.

There’s no point being here without you.

Atsumu moves to get out of line.

“Hey, dude,” Bokuto whines and holds onto his arm to keep him in place. “Just give it a try. It can’t hurt, can it?”

“Boku—”

“It’ll be fun!” he says cheerily. “Maybe it’ll give you some insight on how to apologize to Y/N.”

Atsumu wants nothing more than to move — to leave — but Bokuto mastered the art of the puppy dog eyes long before he could talk, and the moment he flashes them Atsumu realizes he has no other choice but to stay.

When he steps into the tent, the atmosphere changes.

He tugs on the sleeves of his windbreaker when the autumn air threatens to pierce his skin, and reluctantly sits down on the chair across from the psychic. She eyes his every move, trying to figure out what type of customer he might be — someone who’s just doing this for fun, or someone who’s going through a rough patch, or someone who needs a stranger to light the path they need to walk down.

Atsumu fidgets in his seat.

“You’re here for a reading?”

A shrug and feigned indifference are what she receives as an answer. “Sure.”

His mask of nonchalance begins to slip when the reading starts, growing restless as he checks the time on his watch and calculating the probability of you still being awake. He glances over his shoulder, praying to whichever deity who’ll listen that Bokuto will come in and drag him out once he’s realized that this is the last thing Atsumu wants.

You are not here, and his body stings whenever the reminder worms its way into his mind.

His uneasiness must amuse the psychic, because when he finally looks back at her, she’s grinning, knotting his stomach in worry.

She asks him a dreadful question, made of nuts and bolts and things that rub salt in the wound of his heart.

What is it that you desire most, boy?

Atsumu freezes, plastering a confused smile on his face. “I’m sorry?”

“I’m sure you know. Is it strength?”

Definitely not, Atsumu wants to say. He’s more than capable enough to lift heavy boxes, he doesn’t have to take multiple trips to move things from point A to point B, he doesn’t struggle carrying his friends’ slump and inebriated bodies into a bed.

Atsumu is strong. He’s proved it during his frequent trips to the gym and by winning arm-wrestling contests. He wears the trait like a badge of honour, a reminder.

He does not need any more physical strength.

He checks his watch and wonders if you’ve brushed your teeth and dragged yourself to bed.

The psychic pushes. “Power?”

Atsumu briefly shakes his head, a movement so miniscule it’s a surprise the woman catches it.

It used to be such a thrill, the popularity that came with his volleyball reign. He used to ride that horse and sit in that throne with pride, he let the excitement course through him and, for a while, let himself believe the squeals that came with victory was interchangeable with love.

But power does not compare. He was foolish to believe nothing could beat the rush that came with the admiration — the shouts of his name in the bleachers, the ever-growing follower count, the people confessing their infatuation whenever they caught him alone.

They do not know who he is underneath the volleyball uniform. They don’t know that he likes to go to the diner after games and order a strawberry milkshake, or that his bottom drawer is filled to the brim with spare clothes for you, or that his favourite nights are spent with you applying a face mask to his skin.

They will never know him as much as you do.

The psychic leans forward. “Love?”

Atsumu clenches his jaw. Yes, would be the short answer, but to say that without an explanation would mean to lie, and he’s never been a good liar. Because Atsumu’s always been loved — not by the crowds or the student body — but by his friends, his family, you.

You gave your heart to him, and he noticed too late that the bleeding organ resided in the palm of his hand, cracked and yearning and brave. And after he realized this, he selfishly craved for more, even though he knew it scared him. He has been in relationships before, but none of them crossed the threshold of what truly mattered — the intimate conversations, the dances in the kitchen at midnight, the confessions murmured under the duvet.

So, perhaps, yes, Atsumu desires love, but the one thing he supposes he wants more is courage.

The psychic smiles. “Ah. Bingo. So—”

“Miya.”

Atsumu whips his head around to find Sakusa standing at the entrance, skillfully ignoring the protests behind him to get in line and wait his turn. Sakusa raises an eyebrow at the situation Atsumu’s found himself in, but saves him from his judgement to state, “Bokuto told me you were in here.”

“Excuse me,” the woman chirps. “We’re in the middle of something.”

“If you think a scam is what’ll solve your problems, then you’re stupider than I thought,” Sakusa says.

Atsumu sighs. “You came here just to tell me that?”

“Well, yeah,” Sakusa shrugs. “There’s a simpler solution to all of this.”

“Okay, well—”

“Talk to them,” Sakusa interrupts, exhausted. “Before they give up.”

Atsumu kisses his teeth, changing his position in his chair so he’s fully facing Sakusa. “Since when were you the type to give advice?”

Sakusa ignores his retort with a shake of his head and a roll of his eyes.

“I have never seen you cower before, Miya,” Sakusa says, and the words are like needles on his skin. “Don’t let the first time you do so be now.”

Atsumu inhales shakily. “I don’t—”

“They got Hinge a few days ago,” Sakusa deadpans. Atsumu stiffens. “Don’t lose to some hack they found on a dating app.”

Atsumu looks from his friend to the clairvoyant before flashing her a sheepish smile and shooting clumsily out of his chair. The words that tumble from his mouth are barely coherent, and the last thing he hears before he exits the tent is Sakusa mumbling moron under his breath.

The journey from the festival to your apartment is a blur. He vaguely recalls running past his friends and returning their questioning shouts with a wave of his hand and getting angry at least two cars who cut him on the road, before he ends up in front of your door, nose tinged red from the cold.

His knocks are insistent.

“I’m coming, God, be patient,” he hears you say before you open the door to see him, and your annoyance is wiped away in seconds.

“Hi,” he says, out of breath from running up three flights of stairs after he got impatient waiting for the elevator. His eyes land on the blanket you’ve wrapped over your shoulders, and his lips quirk up at the familiar pattern. “Didn’t I get you that?”

You tug on the material defensively. “What are you doing here?” you ask. “And what the hell are you wearing? Did you not look at the weather before you left the house? It’s freezing outside, you idiot, you should be wearing a thicker jacket. And your face is so red! And your hands! They’re gonna get all dry if you don’t wear gloves! How many times do I have to tell you to dress for the weather otherwise you’ll get sick and…”

Atsumu rasps, “And?”

You gulp, taking a step back to distance yourself. “And you shouldn’t be here,” you say, sending a knife to his chest. “I thought you were at the festival.”

“That’s why you didn’t come,” he concludes. “Because I was there.”

“Well, what do you expect me to do?” you snap. “I told you I loved you and you looked at me like I was crazy.”

“I didn’t.”

“Whatever,” you bark. “My point still stands. You shouldn’t be here.”

He nods. “I know.”

“Then why are you?”

Eight letters are whispered into the darkness of the entryway, and the world is thrown off-balance.

“I love you,” he says, surprising himself with just how easy the words escape after he lets them, “and I’m so, so sorry.”

Your lips part in surprise. “What?”

“I love you,” he repeats. “And I should’ve told you sooner, but I— I was scared—”

“Then why are you telling me now?”

“I don’t know,” he whispers. “Love conquers all, I guess. My fear included.”

“You came all the way here to tell me that?”

He risks a step towards you and his heart flutters when you don’t move away. “I ran out of a psychic’s tent, too.”

“What?”

“I’ll tell you later,” he murmurs. “That’s not important right now.”

“It sounds pretty important, I mean, you mentioned it and everything.”

“It’s not.”

“What exactly is more important than that?”

“Your forgiveness, actually.”

You huff. “Believe it or not, forgiveness doesn’t come so easily, Atsumu.”

“Can I kiss you, then?” he questions innocently, placing a hand against your cheek. “Will you take that as an apology?”

You still, licking your lips as you try to maintain your defiant stance. “…That won’t work every time you make me mad, you know.”

He tries his best not to smirk. “Is that a yes?”

“I hate you.”

He lets his lips hover over yours, and he’s not sure if the loud heartbeat ringing in his ears is his or yours (or maybe a mixture of both). “Is that yes?” he asks again, searching your eyes for any signs of discomfort.

Your eyes flicker to his mouth and then you mumble, “Yes.”

Atsumu pinches himself before capturing his lips with yours, eager and desperate, to kiss you with enough pent-up want and need to cause you to stumble. He’s gentle in the way he cradles your face, as if the world has found itself in his hands, still beautiful despite how much he’s hurt it.

He’ll make up for hurting you later, but for now he’ll allow himself to be selfish.

I love you, he whispers into your mouth, and you capture the confession with your own and let it live in your beating heart.

I love you, he whispers into your neck as you both stumble into the kitchen, making sure to tattoo the words into your skin so you’ll never forget.

“I love you,” he whispers one last time as the blanket covers you both and he’s sure you’ve lulled to sleep with your ear against his chest and his thumb drawing hearts on your shoulder, “so, so much.”

Slumber takes over you both, blanketing your smiling figures with hope and love.

#atsumu #miya atsumu #hq #haikyuu #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #atsumu fluff #miya atsumu fluff #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #atsumu angst #miya atsumu angst #haikyuu angst #hq angst #fic: miya atsumu and the chronic lovesick disease

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rafeandonlyrafe · 1 month

Text

glint of metal

words: 800

warnings: 18+ only, male receiving oral, reader is described as experienced and has a tongue piercing!, facefucking, drinking, semi public sex

rafe doesn’t expect to see the glint of metal when you laugh. he zeroes in on watching your mouth, waiting to see a peek of the piercing every time. he waits until the right time before approaching you, both a couple drinks into the night but not drunk yet, just slightly tipsy.

“your tongue piercing is so hot.” rafe says, hand planted against your lower back, pulling you closer into him as he speaks into your ear over the noise of the party, the loud chatting and pumping bass.

“want me to show you some more of it?” you smirk, pressing closer to rafe, letting him feel every groove of your body, the way your breasts squish against him.

you move quickly through the house until you find an empty room. you’re on your knees before rafe can even plant a kiss on your mouth. he wants to feel what its like to flick his tongue against the metal ball, but it’ll have to wait as you reach for his pants.

rafe watches you as you undo them with ease, clearly used to this sunken position, on your knees looking up to a man. hes just glad it’s him this time. you tug his khakis down, revealing his underwear, cock already growing against the fabric.

you smirk as your tongue sticks out of your mouth, dragging along his length. rafe can feel the difference in texture, but he wants to feel the coolness of the shiny metal. he drags his underwear down his hips, not caring that you were planning on teasing him longer.

you smile as his cock is revealed, not the longest you’ve seen but deliciously thick. you know its going to stretch your throat when you take him all the way in, but you don’t allow him access that easily, grasping the base of his cock to hold it steady as you press kisses to his length, tongue occasionally flicking out but not far enough to feel the piercing yet.

“come on.” rafe groans, reaching to tug at your hair.

you let out a giggle, teasing for a few more seconds before your mouth drops open, tongue coming out to protect his cock from your teeth, but also to stimulate him with the different texture. one he’s never felt before.

you sink down slowly, allowing yourself to get used to having him swelling in your mouth. rafe allows you to take it steady at first, just enjoying the way your slight movements feel.

your intensity turns up quickly as soon as you are adjusted, head bobbing up and down, greedily feeling along every inch of him, even moving your hands to his thighs so you can get all the way down to the base. rafe moans above you are loud and unabashed, not caring if people hear, not when he's got you on your knees in front of him.

“fuck, you're so good.” rafe groans out. it's not just the piece of metal in your mouth that makes the blowjob so good, you've clearly got a talent and a lot of practice. rafe is tempted to ask you if you got the piercing just to make your blowjobs better, but he doesn't want you to stop for a single second to answer.

you pick your pace up, determined to feel rafe release in your mouth, wanting to know what his cum tastes like on your tongue.

rafe meets your pace, rocking forward but still letting you dictate, making a point to slide your tongue back and forth with his every thrust.

you pull away from rafe with a gasp, needing to intake air as you press a kiss to his tip. “fuck my mouth.”

rafe smirks. he was hoping you'd let him, but he'd take anything you're willing to give. rafe grips your hair on either side of your head, watching the way you prepare yourself with a few deep breaths before your jaw falls open, slackening as your piercing reveals itself, glinting in the low lighting of the guest bedroom you've found yourself in.

rafe pushes in, maintaining the pace that you started, but slowly building up until he's fucking into your mouth, tears streaming down your face, ruining your party makeup.

“fuck.” rafe groans, looking down at the mess he's made of you. “gonna cum.”

he continues to push down your throat until his cock swells, pulling back to jack himself off, tip held over your awaiting gaping mouth.

it takes him seconds to cum, white ropes shooting out and covering your tongue, causing the piercing to disappear as rafe moans throughout his orgasm.

“fuck.” he grunts out, tugging his cock for the last few drops before taking a staggering step back. you keep your mouth open despite the corners stretching into a smile, making sure rafe sees the cum you're keeping in your mouth before swallowing it, even going as far as to lick your lips.

rafe redresses as you recover, standing up and stretching out your legs, knowing you'll have purple knees come morning.

the conversation after is always awkward, but rafe just gives you a smirk, ever his charming self. “let me get you drink?”

“usually guys offer that first, but okay.” you giggle, letting him lead you out of the room and back into the party, not caring who stares at you.

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @cokepewpsii @mysticallystilinski @luvdella @aerangi @folklorsweet @yourenogoodforme @auryyz @mayhem-72 @thestarlithideout @marvelfanfics1recs

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erensonly · 2 months

Text

thinking about sweet data analyst!reader being quiet as a mouse always scaring the boys. scares them so much they think abt getting her a bell. lets get into some backstory bc this may be a mini series 😈

contains: extreme fluff, ooc writing, love is used as a pet name, no pronouns used, references to DV pls read at your own discretion.

you were the new data analyst for the 141. before, you only worked with Kate, gathering and analyzing data for her but she thought you would be so much more helpful to the task force since their old analyst had retired. you were hesitant at first, not really wanting to be around a group of men. why should you leave your comfort zone?

this did not work with laswell. she had taken you in after you stumbled to the gates of the base, attempting to stop crying to give them an explanation and sporting bruises on your face and hands. luckily she had been there to meet with john when she had heard the guards complaining about a crying woman refusing to leave. she had helped you in more than one way. even allowing you to stay with her until you could find a job and move by yourself.

when she had found out you knew your way around computers, her face lit up like a christmas tree, telling you she had the perfect job for you. you were hesitant to take the job, knowing the work she did involved the military, you didn't know if you wanted to take the job. you had tried to convince her that it was fine, but once laswell has her mind made up, that's it.

thats how you ended up here, wanting oreos. you didn't mean to scare them at first. they were a little scary and you wanted nothing to do with them at first.

you just wanted the oreos but ghost was in the way, facing the opposite way with his head in his phone. you stood there awkwardly at first,not wanting to ask the big man to move but you really wanted those cookies. you stand there for a bit debating if you'll wait for him to leave the room or grow some balls and just ask him to move. you decided on doing neither.

you made your way towards him as quickly as you could; the plan was to just reach up and grab the chocolate cookies so you could go back to your desk before ghost could say anything. trying to get closer to the cabinet, you find yourself pushed up against the counter, a large hand wrapped around your wrist. when he realized it was you, he let you go with a big sigh. "scared the shit out of me. when did you get in here?"

"uh.. not too long ago." that was all you could muster, the man was too intimidating. you awkwardly shuffled towards the cabinet with the cookies and reached up to get them. mission accomplished, you thought to yourself. slithering back to your desk, you leave ghost stunned and only able to mutter a quick "bloody hell" before going back to his phone.

----

the next time you interact with the 141 outside of working it's with gaz. from the small conversations you had, he seemed very nice with a kind smile and calming aura. this time you were trying to make your way to price's office to give him a manila folder with the information he requested. you had walked to the door but heard talking, maybe he was busy. you decided that you would wait to give him the folder so you wouldn't have to speak to whoever was in the office.

it felt like time was going so slow and by the time the person had walked out, you were leaning against the corner of the wall, head against the wall in a way that you had have to almost round the corner to be able to see you. you looked up, and the man look like he just had a heart attack. clutching his chest like he was clutching his pearls and purse and breathing heavily. "Jesus, love,gotta say something. have you been waiting out here long? you could've just came in, y'know?" all the questions were becoming overwhelming when you just gripped his lips to silence him.

it took his look of surprise and a bit of thought to realize what you did. you had just grabbed the lips of a soldier. not just any soldier but a heavily decorated soldier who was apart of The john price's task force. he could kill you faster than you can say you're sorry. "oh my god, i'm so sorry. i didn't mean to, you just kept talking and i didnt know what to do. please don't kill me." you had finished your mini rant only to see him doubled over in laughter. he was in tears.

"did you just silence me?" he asked between laughs. you didn't understand what the hell was funny, this man is going to kill you. while he was still laughing and trying to get soap on the phone, you tiptoed into price's office to give him the folder, telling him that if he found you dead on base it was gaz before scurrying out of his office. john was left looking confused because he had just heard kyle laughing a few seconds ago.

----

next was soap. sweet, sweet soap. he genuinely did his best to welcome you into their group, but you didn't really seem interested. he eventually just took any interaction you two had and replayed it in his head over and over again. you were just so sweet, how could he not? you still got lost on base sometimes since everything was one monotone grey and everything looked the same. and it was just your luck that the only people around were new recruits and other people you never spoke to. turning, you see soap heading toward the mess hall.

when you sped up to catch him, he's surprised. he even did that cartoon cat jump they do before running off. he started saying something in a language you don't understand when you cut him off. "not sure what you're saying but i agree. anyway, where's the gym? i need to ask ghost a question." he was shocked to see you turn around and wait for him to lead the way. he couldn't help the smile that came across his face. such a hasty girl; you always said everything you needed to say as fast as you could before turning away, giving him a look at allat movement back there.

he laughed again before helping you find ghost. and you still don't get why these men find you so funny. there is nothing funny about them being so scary.

----

lastly, we got my husband john. he was made aware of your situation and why you acted the way you did before you started working under him. he couldn't help but think you were a sweet, hard working little thing. never with much to say, and so skittish. he may have told you that he doesn't know how to access the files on his computer just so he can see you come to his office with a folder. is it a crime to want to see such a sweet face?

john had told you he would like to see you after debriefing and that he would just let you know. but you had already finished your work of the day an you spent your free time playing whatever games you could access on your computer. you eventually started to feel restless so you decided to sit in price's office until he got there. there was a couch in a corner of the room, worn but comfortable. you could imagine the boys laying on the couch talking mindlessly to john.

you had sunken into the corner of the couch, curling up in a way that you would have to step completely into the office to see you sitting there. it had been a good 10 minutes of sitting in silence before you heard footsteps approaching the door. you couldn't hear exactly what was being said, but it sounded like john was on the phone. he, not long after, walked into the room, holding his phone between his shoulder and ear with a stack of folders in his hands.

"-exactly. yeah i'll be on it right away. bye." and as he's turning around, you're sitting up straighter and he yells. and i mean one of those old people, "help i've fallen" type of yelps; and he drops his files on the floor. you just give him a blank stare.

"good God. when did you get in here?" you just shrug, brushing over the question. "what was it that you needed from me sir?" that's when he knew, you were going to be the death of the 141. literally.

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aurorawritestoescape · 3 months

Text

BAD BLOOD pt 3

Pairing: step uncle Joel Miller x f!reader x stepdad Tommy Miller

Tw: +18, mdni, smut, step-cest, big age gap (reader is 22, Joel and Tommy are in their late and mid-40s), perv!Joel, dark!Joel, dark!reader, dubconned!Tommy, mention of f!oral, mention of mfm, fingering, semi public, cum eating, degradation kink, praise kink, daddy kink, alcohol consumption, swearing, reader wears makeup.

Summary: Joel and Tommy take you out and things get heated.

Word count: 5,8k

A/n: it took me longer than I planned but pt 3 is finally here. I really hope you’ll like it! Kisses and hugs to everyone who has given love to the series💖 I’m very grateful!! Special thank you to @milla-frenchy for the support! Ily baby❤️

Series Masterlist || MASTERLIST

*****

You’re sitting at your vanity putting final touches to your makeup. Butterflies are dancing in your stomach and your pussy is tingling as the anticipation of the night electrifies your nerves.

You can’t believe that it’s finally going to happen. You’ve been imagining it for so long. Every holiday, every family visit to your college, every time you saw your stepdad the desire for him ignited your core. You imagined him taking you in your bed, claiming your pussy under the secrecy of the night. You wished he would send your mom to hell, close the door in her face and take you in your dorm room. You dreamt of him fucking you on your desk and making you squirt all over the books. You’ve craved that cock and the man attached to it for so long and today you’re finally going to get it all.

***

“Can you hurry up?” Joel’s booming voice startles you and your hand jerks making your eyeliner too thick. “Tommy’s waiting at the car and getting on my nerves, fidgety fucker.”

You see your step uncle’s reflection in the mirror and exclaim not turning to him, “Fuck! Stop creeping on me! Go away!”

Despite your words you quickly check him out through the mirror. He’s wearing dark blue jeans and a cardigan with the lowest V neck you’ve ever seen. Your mouth waters when you see his naked chest.

The man curses and steps into your bedroom shutting the door behind him. You turn swiftly, raising your hand in a stop gesture.

“No. Get out! You’re not coming on my face again. I just did my makeup,” you turn back to the mirror and start fixing your ruined eyeliner barely moving your lips to talk, “tonight is about Tommy and me anyway.”

“In love with your stepdad. Fuckin’ hell!” Joel chuckles, walking to your bed. He sits down and places the elbows on his thighs. His voice gets serious, “I want you to remember what you promised me, angel. No back outs.”

“I’m not in love, Joel. Just wanna fuck him. I’m gonna do everything the way we planned, ok? I can’t believe he’s still talking to you. After what you’ve done.”

Joel rubs his beard hiding a smile. “Told him you wanted to find out if he’d fuck you and I obliged. Then I just made big eyes ‘What?! She recorded it? No way! What a bitch!’ He ate it up,” he adds, looking pleased with himself.

You finally turn to him, eyes wide and mouth agape.

“Oh, so he thinks you’re innocent?!”

“Tommy knows that I’m far from innocent. But you…”, he points his index finger at you, “your stunt shocked him. His sweet stepdaughter, blackmailing him into fucking her.. Shit!” He adjusts himself and you lick your lips shooting a glance at his bulge.

You turn back to the mirror and silence fills the bedroom while you’re applying your lipstick. You feel Joel's heavy gaze on you until his gruff voice breaks it, “This color will look great smeared on my balls, baby.”

You scoff at his words but don’t say anything. You can’t deny that the desire to suck him off has been growing exponentially since the moment he slapped you in the backyard. Especially when you saw his fat cock that morning. Now you really want that bonus he promised stuffed into your pussy.

When the makeup is done you get up and walk to the bed. Your short black dress with sheer sleeves is laid out next to Joel who’s manspreading his thick thighs. His knee touches your bare leg and you step away furrowing your brows and whine, “Can you leave? I need to change.” Your voice lacks confidence as in reality you want him to stay and watch but it’s hard to admit that this man who looks more like a pimp than a contractor makes your pussy tingle.

“What’s the matter, angel? We’re family, no need to be shy around me.”

You roll your eyes and shift on your feet contemplating your next move. After a few moments your hands rise up to untie your robe. You open it not turning away from Joel and throw it off your shoulders fully exposing yourself. The robe pools at your feet as you’re looking at him with defiance.

Joel’s expression is serious and pensive. He takes you in like you’re an object on display in a shop window. You hold your breath fearing that any degrading comment thrown your way now might really hurt you. But a wave of relief washes over you when you see him breathe in sharply, lean back on his hand, spreading his legs wider and palming his bulge.

“What if I give you my bonus right now, angel. I feel generous.”

Triumph seizes you when you see the signs of his desire - your power over him. You have an upper hand and now it’s your turn to smirk.

“Don’t think so, step uncle. Need to ask my daddy first.”

You turn around and walk to the dresser hearing the man chuckle. You feel his gaze on your ass and push it out a little to give him a better view.

You open the top drawer and look through your panties and bras wanting to choose a perfect set for tonight.

You hear your bed creak and then the heat of Joel’s body warms up your bare back and ass.

“Want me to help you choose, angel? I know what my brother likes.”

“I was thinking this one,” you muse picking up a red lacy set and showing it to him.

“Fuck, it’s hot, baby. Suits you well. Slutty,” he comments and then leans lower, his lips are brushing your ear as he whispers, “but don’t forget your role, angel. You’re his innocent stepdaughter. He thinks he hates that he wants to fuck you but he fuckin’ loves it. He’s as twisted as me, just hides it.”

He raises his arms at your sides caging you between his massive biceps and searches through the drawer. He’s looking over your shoulder and when his hot wet exhale hits your naked breasts, your nipples get hard. He picks up a light pink mesh set, decorated with cute little white hearts.

“Wear this one and he’ll bust his nut as soon as he sees you”.

“I kinda need him to last,” you murmur but decide to follow his advice.

The thoughts are jumbled in your head as Joel’s low voice and hot breath on your naked skin are making you weak. You press your thighs together chasing any relief from the ache in your core. You feel cold air on your wet pussy. His bulge grazes the hollow of your ass and you bite your lip trying to swallow a whimper that is crawling up your throat.

“Yeah, it’s a good one,” you say, your voice soft and breathy. You want to take the lingerie from him but he doesn’t let you and pulls his hand away.

“I’ll help, angel.” You hear shuffling and turn around slightly to see him get on one knee behind you. He looks up at you, still dominant even in this position and your breath hitches.

Suddenly his hands grip your thighs and he turns you around. His face is so close to your pussy now your clit tingles and you gush more.

He drops his head and brings the panties to your feet. Your mouth parts with a surprise.

“Come on,” he hurries you and you step into the underwear, one foot and then the other. He hums with satisfaction and pulls them up, his hands brushing your legs and tickling your skin making it erupt in goosebumps. He notices your body’s reaction to his touch and stops his hands mid thigh looking straight at your pussy.

“Joel,” you whine as a sudden surge of shyness grasps you.

He seems not to hear. He leans closer to your mound and you gasp when his nose pushes into the spot just above your seam.

Then he plants a soft kiss on your mound and you take a deep breath as the desire overwhelms you. You want his mouth on you with fierce desperation, your mind is empty and only one thought is swirling through it, “do it do it, do it.”

You shut your eyes ready to drown in pleasure and hear his soft and seductive voice as his breath warms your skin, “Who’s gonna eat your pussy tonight, angel, me or your stepdaddy?”

You can’t help but imagine them both between your thighs and you moan dropping down your head and running your fingers through his hair.

To your disappointment Joel pulls the panties up and doesn’t stop until your pussy lips swallow the sheer fabric. It presses on your clit and you take a sharp breath as a surge of need ignites your core.

You lift one leg, brace your hand on the dresser behind you and put your thigh over his broad shoulder giving him a perfect view of your pussy. Then your hand darts to pull the material to the side and you bite your lower lip as his hot breath hits your wet skin. Joel growls and raises his eyes at you. His gaze is so dark the irises are hardly visible. You’re sure your pupils are as blown as his.

“Want uncle to lick your pretty pussy?” he asks softly but you hear a trace of mockery in his voice. Your need suffocates your pride and you answer him by gliding your foot up and down his muscular back.

He hums and leans closer to your center. You hold your breath in anticipation and run your fingers through his hair ready to tug on them when he finally eats you out. But you furrow your brows and blink in confusion when he presses his cheek to your folds and stills. “What are you..?”

Suddenly he moves his head up and down against your sensitive pussy rubbing it with his rough scruff. You cry out and jump back away from him.

“What the fuck, Joel?! It hurts!” you’re fuming looking at your burning folds while he chuckles getting up from the floor with a grunt.

“Just wanted to save your scent, baby,” he laughs rubbing his beard and you shout at him to get out putting on a bra.

“You have 5 minutes,” he says, still chuckling as he leaves the room.

***

When you finally step outside the house you see the brothers smoking by Joel’s truck. Jess took your stepdad’s car to go on a spa retreat and her plans to waste Tommy’s money pampering herself coincided perfectly with your plans to fuck her husband.

You bite your lip when you see Tommy wearing a black western shirt and dark jeans. Your heart sings at the thought that he wanted to look good to take you out.

Tommy quickly looks you over, trying to hide his interest but you notice his gaze slide over your body tightly enveloped by the slinky dress.

Joel on the other hand doesn’t hide anything. “Looking good, baby,” he comments shamelessly adjusting his bulge.

“Let’s go,” you say, coming up to the truck and batting your lashes at Tommy, “Daddy, will you keep me company in the back?”

“Sweetheart...” Tommy starts talking with an unsure expression but you pout your lips, mouthing, “please”.

He sighs and gets in the back seat. A little part of you wonders if he’s pushed by your threat or genuine desire to be close to you. But you shut this little voice down reminding yourself that the result is what’s important.

When you get into the car your dress rides up exposing even more of your thighs but you don’t bother tugging it down.

Joel starts the engine and backs out of the driveway while you’re looking around at the interior of his truck. It’s surprisingly tidy and you’re genuinely impressed until your gaze raises up and to your shock you see your panties hanging on the rear view mirror. Your jaw drops and you’re about to shout at Joel when you stop yourself. You realize that the perv must have picked them up from the floor of your room that morning and you’re not eager to let your stepdad know about your fun time with your step uncle.

So you shut your mouth and see Joel winking at you in the mirror.

Tommy on the other hand reacts as soon as he sees it, “God, Joel, take this thing off!”

“Why?” His older brother asks with defiance driving through the town streets with one hand on the wheel.

Tommy just sighs, not even trying to come up with a reason.

You’re squirming in your seat praying that Joel doesn’t mention whose panties are now swinging in front of the windshield. You almost moan with relief when he turns on some classic rock and doesn’t say anything.

Your eyes keep shooting at Tommy from time to time who’s looking out of the window. You hate that he’s so far so you unbuckle your seat belt and slide over closer to him. You trace a wedding band on his finger getting his attention. He snaps his head your way, brows furrowed.

“Get back in your seat. ‘s dangerous.”

You take his hand and bring it up to your lips as he’s watching you closely. You press your cheek to his knuckles and rub your face against his hand.

“Love when you worry about me, daddy,” you purr into his hand and then place it on your thigh that’s further from him.

You put your hand over his and make him squeeze your naked flesh.

“Keep me safe, please,” you breathe out feeling his palm against your skin, so close to your pussy and at the same time torturously far.

“I ain’t a seat belt, sweetie,” Tommy mumbles looking down at your skin erupting in goosebumps under his touch. He takes a sharp breath and lifts his hips before spreading his legs a little wider. You notice his bulge has grown bigger and you close your eyes for a second trying to calm down but sink even deeper in the sticky pit of desire. You think about moving his hand to your inner thigh and then closer towards your pussy. His fingers would immediately find your panties soaked and if he slid his thumb under the fabric he could easily find your throbbing clit and …

“Hey, lovebirds!” Joel rumbles and you snap your eyes open as he interrupts your daydreaming.

Tommy clears his throat feeling his brother's eyes on him in the car mirror and his hand flies away from your thigh. You curse Joel inwardly for ruining the moment.

Joel’s head turns to you slightly as he asks, “how about we skip the restaurant and get a motel, huh?”

You know that you’re the one he’s asking because Tommy has no say in any of this thanks to the recording you have on your phone.

“I’m not some cheap hooker you picked up at a gas station, Joel. I can’t just jump into bed with you,” you reply, putting your seatbelt back on.

Joel laughs and your stomach burns with rage. You’re fed up with his mocking, his attitude, his cockiness.

“What’s so fucking funny, old man?” You spit out at him grinding your teeth.

“Fuck, baby,” he says locking eyes with you in the mirror, “I don’t remember buying you dinner before I jizzed all over your pretty face a few days ago?”

“You WHAT?!” Tommy exclaims and your heart falls into your stomach. As long as you’ve known him you never heard him raise his voice like that, maybe only watching sports but never at a person. Especially Joel. He scoots forward in his seat to get closer to Joel and grabs his arm. “Have you fucked her already?” Joel seems absolutely unfazed as he replies in his usual “fuck y’all” tone, “No, I haven, Tommy, relax. We just fooled around. The princess wanted to come and I helped her.”

Tommy’s head snaps in your direction and you squeeze your body into the seat as fear grips your heart. He looks livid, eyes are scorching you under the furrowed brows, lips form a tight line in anger or disappointment. You feel small under his stare and stammer weakly, “d..daddy, he didn’t… ”

He suddenly gets closer to you, leans in, grabs your hand and squeezes it in his. It’s not painful but his strength and wrath make your breath hitch and your pussy clenches around nothing as the fear affects you like an aphrodisiac.

“If he fucks your needy hole before I do, believe my words, sweetie, I won’t touch you. You can put that recording of me on national television I don’t give a fuck. Got it?” He throws the words at you as his eyes are boring into yours.

You whimper as his face is so close you feel his breath on your parted lips. Realizing that he’s waiting for your answer you nod hastily and he gets back in his seat.

You feel your world tilting and turning upside down. Your stepdad, the calmest, softest man you know just shouted at his brother and said all that to you.

Tommy’s still fuming, clenching and unclenching his fist resting on his thigh and you wonder why it stirred him up that much. Why has his possessiveness burst out now? It was the first time you witnessed his passion for you. Is it sibling rivalry? Insecurity? Or did he finally let himself do what he’d wanted? You ask yourself these questions before you see Joel watch you through the mirror. He looks smug and you try to make your expression neutral not to give him the satisfaction.

You glance out of the window and your anxiety spikes up again seeing that you’re almost at the place you’ve picked.

“Oh, fuck no!” Tommy exclaims seeing where you three are going. “Are you fucking kidding me? You know that it’s Jess’ favorite place. How am I gonna look with you grinding against me all night?” He’s shooting daggers at you and you take a deep breath trying to find the right words.

“Tommy, listen. This restaurant is the only ok place in this shithole of a town. And I promise I’ll behave,”

Mistrust is painted on his face but seeing you shaken and nervous calms him down a bit.

“No ‘daddies’!” he demands pointing his finger at you.

“No “daddies,” you promise with sadness in your voice.

He points his finger at Joel next, “You too! None of your usual shit!”

Joel raises his hands and brows acting like he’s never done anything wrong in his life. You scuff but turn your pleading gaze at Tommy.

“And we leave when I say we leave!”

You hate losing your upper hand in the situation but your pussy is throbbing for him now, so dominant and rough, and you decide to submit this time.

You all get out of the car and Tommy stomps to the restaurant still angry. Having stayed alone with Joel you use the opportunity and grab his arm to stop him.

“Why have you said it? About the morning? I thought we were on the same page.”

“We are, angel.” Joel replies, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you in the direction of the entrance, “I know my brother. He always wants something I don’t have. He must be ecstatic seeing how hungry you’re for him. I just fiddled with his toy a bit and now he wants it even more.”

His hand grabs your ass and you slap it off getting away from him as you see Tommy watch you two waiting at the door.

You can’t believe that Joel is manipulating his brother so easily. But his words have reassured you and you feel less agitated.

When the brothers and you step into the restaurant, a host greets Tommy by the name and you see the confusion hiding behind his features at Mr Miller’s unusual company.

He asks about Jess and you cringe rolling your eyes so far up your head, the host gets even more flustered.

He leads you to your table and you settle down.

A waiter brings you the menus and you order a glass of red wine, adding “Please, you two, no hard liquor, we have a long night ahead of us,” Tommy chokes on his water as the waiter slightly raises his eyebrow.

Joel gets a beer and Tommy follows suit. When the waiter leaves your stepdad glares at you.

“You promised to behave.”

“I am behaving. I just don’t want you to forget why we’re here.”

Joel chimes in, leaning back against his chair with a grunt, “And why exactly are we here, baby?”

“I want us to get to know each other better.”

“We’re family, angel, I know everything there is about you.”

“Really? What’s my favorite color, Joel,” you ask, narrowing your eyes at him.

“The color of my brother’s dick?” Joel asks and you burst into giggles while Tommy mumbles profanities under his breath.

When the drinks arrive Joel starts asking Tommy about his work and you’re surprised to notice how the older brother eases him up. They talk and you listen, not really getting through the meaning of a bunch of contractor terms but you smile when they do and laugh when they say something funny.

Soon you’re drinking and talking and it actually feels comfortable. They reminisce about their life in Austin and you ask them questions genuinely interested in their past.

At one point Joel acts like a perfect wing man telling you a hot story of Tommy getting arrested for starting a bar fight because of a girl and you tingle all over. Your stepdad gives you a shy smile and your breath hitches.

Suddenly you feel Joel’s piercing gaze on you.

“What about you, angel? Got any fun college stories for us?” Tommy looks uncomfortable and you remember your promise to him to behave so you say softly,

“I’m a good girl, uncle Joel. I’m there to study, not to waste my time on boys.” You drop your gaze acting so innocent even you don’t believe yourself.

Joel chuckles and Tommy glances up at you with a little smile.

“Ok, our good girl. What about girls? Bet you’ve licked some pussies after a wild party.”

“Fuck, Joel,” Tommy curses and you bite your lip trying not to smile at the way your stepdad squirms in his chair. The wine makes you bolder and you decide to spice up the night.

“How about we play a game? I answer your question and then you two answer mine?” you offer fidgeting in your chair giddy with excitement.

“Shoot, baby.”

“No!”

The men reply at the same time. Tommy’s shaking his head and Joel slightly punches his brother’s shoulder.

“Come on, Tommy. Let’s hear how naughty our good girl gets. I remember you were fine with her… how did you put it… exploring herself.”

Your eyes are glinting with excitement as Joel quotes that dialogue. You remember it by heart now having listened and come to it so many times you lost count.

“Go ahead, angel,” Joel nods, motioning you to speak.

You take a deep breath and start talking softly.

“I’ve been with a girl just once. We weren’t wasted or anything,” You shoot a glance at Joel and then continue, “We were in her room watching a movie and then it kinda happened.” You suddenly feel shy as not only Joel’s but also Tommy’s gaze is glued to you.

“Nah, baby. We need details.” Joel’s voice, seducing and gruff, pulls the words out of your mouth before you can stop them.

“We started making out.. then I tugged her shirt down and sucked on her nipples,” you muse tracing the edge of the wet glass with your finger. “I kissed her stomach, then her pussy… She was so wet. So soft on my tongue. I sucked on her clit and fingered her for some time and she came…her pussy was clamping on my fingers so hard.”

When you lift your eyes you see the brothers stare at you with hungry obsidian eyes as if they’re ready to pounce on you at any moment. Joel palms himself through the jeans and Tommy doesn’t tear his eyes off you as they slide from your lips to your breasts and back up again.

For a few moments you three are soaking in this horny silence until you break it clapping your hands together.

“My turn!”

Tommy takes a big gulp of his beer and Joel raises his brows waiting for your question.

“Have you ever fucked a girl together? Like… shared her?” you quickly regret your question as only saying it already is making you uncomfortably wet.

You’re looking at Joel expecting him to answer but suddenly hear your stepdad’s voice,

“Yeah, we have. Once.”

Your head snaps his way and you gawk at him. You don’t say anything and just wait for him to continue. And he does.

“She was Joel’s girlfriend at the time. We went to a bar, got really drunk and fucked in the bathroom.”

Tommy glances up at you and then quickly averts his eyes.

“Fuck…,” you moan rubbing your thighs together imagining them using some lucky girl like that and ask,

“How did you do it?”

Joel leans closer to you placing his massive arms on the table and replies savoring every word while his velvety voice hits you right in the pussy, “I made her bend over to suck Tommy off and then shoved my dick deep into her cunt. He fucked her throat, I fucked her hole and we pumped her full.”

The moment Joel finishes talking you hear the waiter’s shaky voice asking if you’d like anything else.

Tommy curses and sends him away. He acts polite but his voice strains with rage.

He hastily gets up and mumbling the word ‘bathroom’ leaves you two. Before he turns away you spot his massive bulge and swallow loudly.

You take a deep breath trying to calm down.

“Angel, you look pale,” Joel laughs at you and then shakes his head, “you want him, he wants you, what are all these fuckin’ games for? You coulda been stuffed with our cocks by now but no, little princes wanted to be wined and dined. Lets hope he doesn’t change his mind about tonight. If our plan goes to shit because of you, uncle Joel will get very angry. And you surely don’t want that, missy.” Joel’s expression is serious and you remember that he has his personal motive and his concern quickly becomes yours.

“I’ll talk to him,” you say, getting up from the table.

You come up to the bathroom and knock. It’s quiet so you knock again until you hear the lock click.

Tommy opens the door and steps out of the room but you gently push him back in.

“Please, let’s talk,”

You hear people’s voices and not wanting to be caught with you alone at the bathroom Tommy begrudgingly steps back and shuts the door behind you two.

“What?!” He grumps and steps up to the sinks. He opens the tap and bends down to wash his face.

You lean back against the door watching him and contemplating your next move. He’s about to snap and you’re afraid what unexpected fit he could throw again. You know he wants you and you need to be wise rather than play on his nerves. “You’re his innocent stepdaughter,” Joel’s words emerge from your mind.

You come up to him slowly and wait while he’s drying his face with a hand towel.

“I’m not a monster, Tommy. I don’t wanna ruin your life,” you speak softly, placing your hand on his shoulder. He turns to you, anger still painted on his face.

You inch closer, press your forehead to his shoulder and whisper breathing in his scent,

“I want you, Tommy. So fucking much.”

You feel vulnerable at the moment but that’s exactly what he wants you to be right now.

“So that’s why you spread your legs for my brother? ‘Cause you wanted me?”

You sniff not saying anything for a few moments, then lift your head, and glance up at him. His face is blurry as you’re looking at him through the tears.

“I was just horny, daddy. And when he was fingering me, I was imagining you fucking my pussy.”

Tommy’s breath hitches and you hold yours as well hoping he’ll react.

“Fuck, babygirl,” your stepdad whispers as his rage shifts into sympathy, his eyes sad and blown out.

The next moment he grabs you under your thighs, lifts you and sets you on the counter. He’s standing between your legs as you place your hands on his shoulders. His thumb wipes a tear from your cheek as the other hand is pressed to your lower back. You open your legs wider and the dress pulls up at your hips exposing your light pink panties.

“Shhh, don’t cry, sweetheart. I’m here,” he whispers, kissing your cheek gently and his head drops as he’s looking at your pussy, “I want you too.”

His smell, his touch, his confession make you ecstatic and you press your parted lips to his. They’re soft and plump as his tongue breaches your lips and he licks into your whimpering mouth. You grab his ass and pull him closer to your heated center. You feel him hard against your pussy and start grinding on his stiff bulge.

“What do you need, babygirl? Tell me,” Tommy says, parting from your lips.

“Touch me, please… can’t wait any longer,” you whine, pulling your dress up to the waist. His hands rush to free your pussy and you lift your hips before Tommy takes your panties off.

The cold marble under your ass makes you hiss but you forget about it as soon as Tommy’s fingers push between your folds and he rubs your clit making you moan.

“You like it, babygirl? Daddy’s finally touching your needy pussy.”

You can’t form any words so you just moan and nod your head frantically. His forehead is pressed against yours as you’re both watching his digits glide down to your hole and without hesitation he pushes his middle finger inside you. You’re so wet it slides in easily and he starts massaging your walls.

“More please,” you plead and he groans as his index finger joins the first.

“Good girl! You're sucking me in so well, can’t wait to bury my cock inside you,” Tommy murmurs in your ear and you whimper before you see the door opening. Your heart freezes in your chest as you’re about to get caught being fingered by your stepdad. But you breathe out with relief seeing Joel stepping into the bathroom.

“Fuckin’ finally,” he grumbles coming up to you two. He stands next to Tommy, his bulge pressed to your thigh. Through the haze of pleasure you feel Joel’s hand cup your tears stricken cheek and he leans to your ear and whispers, “Clever girl.”

Then his big palm squeezes your naked thigh as he asks you,

“Enjoying daddy’s fingers, angel? Who’s better at fingering your tight little hole, him or your uncle?”

Tommy groans and suddenly his lips are on yours. His kiss is hungry, desperate, claiming. You melt into it feeling your climax build as his fingers are pushing on the soft spot inside you.

You moan into his mouth and Tommy’s lips leave yours as he mumbles, “I’ll feed your pussy my cock.. soon, babygirl… just wait.”

“You’ll be full by the end of the night, angel,” Joel smirks and pulls down the neckline of your dress exposing your naked breasts to the men. He starts twitching your nipple as his brother is working your pussy.

Joel watches your face twist with pleasure, your teeth biting your lips mercilessly.

“Don’t ruin your pretty lips, angel,” he says, bringing his thumb to your mouth. He brushes your swollen lower lip and pulls it out from between your teeth, “Here.” He pushes his thumb into your mouth and you welcome it. You start sucking on his thick digit making the filthiest noises.

With your stepdad’s fingers fucking your hole and step uncle's thumb stuffing your mouth you feel yourself about to unravel. Tommy pushes you over the edge pressing his thumb to your clit and swirling it a few times.

“Come, babygirl. Make daddy proud,” Tommy says and your explode clumping hard on his fingers and moaning, your pretty noises muffled by Joel’s thumb still pressed to your tongue. The man praises you, “That’s our girl. Perfect little slut.”

The orgasm is hitting you hard and you’re shaking and trembling so Tommy wraps his arm around your waist holding you tight but still pleasuring you.

They both are watching Tommy’s digits rhythmically disappear inside your dripping hole and your pussy squelches as your creamy cum, pushed out by the intrusion, slides down your ass towards the counter. Finally your climax subsides and your body stills, jerking with aftershocks from time to time.

Joel's thumb leaves your mouth and he holds the back of your neck while you’re trying to catch your breath.

Tommy pulls out his fingers too and lifts them up for the three of you to see. Under the bright lights you see his digits glazed with your juices. A drop of your slick slides down his middle finger and Tommy licks it off and then brings his digits to your mouth. You happily suck them clean while they both are praising you, “that’s our girl”, “like that, angel”, “came so hard for daddy and uncle.”

When you’re done cleaning your stepdad’s fingers off your cum, he cups your cheek and asks softly, “ready to go home, babygirl?” You look at Tommy, whose adoring and hungry gaze makes you tingle again, then at Joel, who’s eating you up with his blown out eyes, his hand palming his huge bulge, and the anticipation of the night ahead makes your heart and pussy flutter.

Batting your eyelashes at the men you give them a shy smile and say “yes.”

******

Thank you for reading!💖

Your comments and reblogs will make me very happy! I’d love to know what you think!❤️

Part IV

General tag list: @nervousmumbling @harriedandharassed @bbyanarchist

Series tag list: @milla-frenchy @missannwinchester @koshkaj-blog @survivingandenduring @nana90azevedo @mermaidgirl30 @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff @obscurexsorrows @tammythr @ratoonstown @anama-cara @pedge-page

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yawnderu · 5 months

Text

Lorelei — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader | Part IV

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Simon doesn't cry. The last time he cried was out of shock, coming home to see his entire family executed by who he thought were his allies, his friends, his comrades. Simon doesn't cry, but you can see how broken his soul is in the way his hands delicately hold you close to him. You can feel it in the way his heart is beating fast in your ear, his lips pressing gentle kisses on the top of your head while you're barely conscious, too tired from the late-night conversation you had with him.

The man who broke you a year ago is the same man whose touch pieces your soul together, his warm hands doing nothing but serve as a reassurance that he's here. He's here, alive, and he's not going anywhere. Not anymore.

He waits until you're snoring softly to gently settle you back down in bed, taking one last look at your peaceful sleeping expression before getting up from bed slowly, leaving the room and walking in the dark towards his baby's room. He closes the door behind him, approaching the crib with footsteps so quiet one would think he's still the ghost, but he's not, not when he's here. He's just Simon.

"Hey, sweet girl." He greets in a whisper, leaning down in front of the crib to look at his daughter. What a fucking sight, he thinks; brown eyes focused on the way his tiny girl is holding a bunny plushie close to her, wearing the skull pattern pajamas he bought her a few weeks ago. Simon has strong genes— the baby looks like a girly replica of him, her dark brown hair framing her pretty face, nose slightly rosy from the cold. He adjusts her beanie, lifting the blanket enough so more of her body can be covered even while she's asleep. His hand hesitates when he feels the baby stirring awake, taking a step back before her brown eyes open, peering at him.

"Good morning, sweetheart." He whispers, afraid to wake you up even while you're an entire room away. His big hands reach out for the baby, cradling her in his arms as he walks around the house until he reaches the living room, not bothering to turn on the light to not bother his baby. She's calm— not crying, simply babbling as she looks up at him, her hands balled into fists, too used to holding something. Simon can feel her tiny nails digging into his bare chest, yet he doesn't mind, gently rocking his girl under the comfort of the dark living room, the moonlight illuminating enough so they can both look at each other.

"Papa." His heart almost stops when he hears the little girl say her first word, looking down at her with wide eyes and a proud smile. He almost thinks he imagined it until she repeats it louder, tiny hands pulling on his dog tags. His hand dwarfs the baby's head as he presses her closer to his bare chest, closing his eyes and focusing on the feeling of her tiny body against his. He never thought he'd be a father— hell, the idea itself never went through his head even when his family was alive, yet ever since he first saw his baby girl? Simon fell in love.

"Papa's here, Astrid." He plants a gentle kiss on her forehead, her tiny balled up hands now holding his cheeks and pulling slightly on the stubble, making him groan in pain, something she finds amusing, a cheeky giggle coming out of her.

"Gentle." He reminds her, pulling her away so she's not able to keep torturing his scarred cheeks. He smiles down at her, one of his hands coming up to gently pinch her chubby cheeks, another giggle coming out of the tiny girl. She’s an angel— rarely cries and is always giggling, her gummy smile full on display for anyone lucky enough to see her.

His pretty angel. A split image of everything Simon could have been if he had a normal family and rather than feeling bitter about it, he feels happy. Happy to be able to see her grow, to give her and you the life you both deserve, even if you're not together.

He lays down on the couch with the baby resting on his chest, the chain and metal of his dog tags enough to keep her distracted as he admires her under the moonlight seeping through the window, wanting to memorize every single detail on her tiny face. The pain of losing a second brother to him is still there, yet this tiny girl heals his soul and gives him hope.

Johnny would have loved you. He thinks as he looks at her, imagining Johnny playing with his baby. A quiet chuckle escapes his lips as he thinks of the tiny girl pulling on his mowkhawk, her bad habit of pulling on people's hair something he became too familiar with, his buzzcut not saving him from his baby's surprisingly strong grip. His mind inevitably goes back to his family, thinking of Joseph playing with his baby, of Tommy experiencing being an uncle, or Beth and his mum gossiping with you while looking at Simon, proud smiles in their faces. He can't help the way his eyes sting, slightly rimming with tears in the company of his baby.

His eyes close as he takes a deep breath, allowing a stray tear to roll down his cheek while the rest dots his long eyelashes. His hand plays with his little girl's hair, the other one firmly holding her close to his bare chest while she babbles on, her innocence a complete contrast to who he is.

"Mum?" He begins, eyes still closed and voice shaky.

"This is my baby, Astrid. She's four months old... lovely girl, ain't she?" He speaks quietly to nothing, imagining his mum is there, watching over him, a bright smile on her lips.

"I still haven't won her mum over, but I'm trying. I'm gonna marry this girl, mummy, I know I will." Simon doesn't cry, but his stomach muscles tense as he holds back a sob, not wanting to startle the baby resting on him. Her silence finally makes his eyes open, tear-rimmed circles of darkness softening when he sees the peaceful sleeping expression on his baby.

"I love you so much." He confesses in a whisper, his short nails gently massaging her scalp, his warm chest working as a personal heater for the sleeping baby. His back is starting to hurt but he's not going to risk waking the girl up, simply closing his eyes again and focusing on getting some sleep. With how badly he has been sleeping since he came back, he doesn't even realize when he drifted off to sleep, only being awoken hours later by the smell of pancakes and tea.

He looks down at his chest, finding a blanket covering him, but no sight of his baby. That's enough to send him in a panic, immediately getting up and looking around the living room, his fast-beating heart only slowing down once he sees the baby sitting on a highchair in the kitchen, your back turned to him as you hum and prepare breakfast.

"Bloody hell— you scared the shit out of me." He lets out a deep breath, trying his best to calm down as he starts walking towards you, one of his hands resting on your waist as you look over your shoulder and shoot him a cheeky grin.

"You scared the shit out of me when I saw the empty crib." He gives you an apologetic smile, planting a soft kiss on the top of your head and laughing as he narrowly misses the kick thrown to his arse.

[PREVIOUS] [NEXT]

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#simon ghost riley #cod mwii #cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #simon riley #ghost cod #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon x reader #mw2 ghost #ghost #ghost x reader #ghost simon riley #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x you #dad!simon riley #dad!ghost

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ovaryacted · 2 months

Note

Ok giving Leon a head while we're on our period? That's hot af girl <3

MDNI/18+. NSFW

I don’t know why the phrase “that’s hot af girl” made me laugh when I first saw this but yeah, I think it’s just a thought I had that would be a possibility. Overall, I don’t think Leon is the type of guy to ask for sex either (unless he’s very pathetic and needy and just can’t help himself). But when it comes to you on your cycle, he’s especially considerate and does things on your terms, as he always does.

He’s a sweetheart and a gentleman through and through, and if you ask for him to be a little handsy or rougher with you in the bedroom he’s willing to accommodate. When your cycle hits, he’s gentle, careful not to squeeze or touch you too much unless you ask. Focusing on tending to your needs, he feeds you, comforts you, and is intent on keeping you occupied as a distraction from your cramps. He likes cradling your head as you rest on his lap on the couch, watching some reality TV show you’re both binging.

It’s relaxing and calm, but his touches also make your body tingle. Your period made you hypersensitive to things like certain scents and materials, hence why you mostly wear baggy cotton clothes when you’re on your cycle. Leon touching you also falls under that umbrella, and you quickly go from wanting comfort to craving something else.

Rubbing yourself against his lap, you hum as he massages a certain spot at the top of your head, his thick thumbs pressing into your cranium so deliciously it is enough to make you want more. Unintentionally, your mouth started to water at the thought of having him in your mouth, mind growing distant and no longer paying attention to the show on the screen. Discretely, you press your cheek closer to his pelvis, your nose almost against his crotch.

“Want something?”, he’s coy when he asks you, as if he doesn’t already know what you were thinking. This was just his way of checking in on you, making sure you were alright. Your eyes looked up to him, his hand caressing your cheek and keeping you right where you were.

“Really want to suck your dick”, the vulgarity of your words makes him genuinely laugh, deep from within his chest. It takes him off guard sometimes, but it also turns him on just enough to entertain you, his cock already twitching in his sweats.

“Go ahead, baby. Take what you need”, in his mind, he’s doing it more for your pleasure than his own, wanting to cater to your desires and curb your oral fixation. Anything you want, he’ll gladly provide, and more.

That’s how Leon found himself in this position, keeping your hair out of your face as you sucked him off. It’s like you’re giving him something new to watch, your spit dribbling out of your mouth and making a mess underneath you. Your jaw was growing sore from how hard you were working over him, slippery hands twisting his length as your tongue circled the very tip of him. The show was quickly forgotten, his entire focus now on how your mouth felt, moaning under his breath with every tug you gave him.

“Yeah, this is what you needed, right sweetheart? Just something to keep your mouth busy?”, his voice dropped an octave, no longer holding the mellow baritone you were used to but more gravelly than before.

You offered him a hum, pulling your lips off of him before going to lick at his balls, something that made him groan even louder. Hell if you asked for it, he’d happily fuck your throat, he was very close to doing it but not without your say. Instead, he lets you use him to your heart’s content, quickly turning into a mess of drool as you work faster over him.

His hips shift upward in a gentle motion, bringing your attention back to the tip of his cock. Moving away from his balls, you slip him back into your waiting mouth, nuzzling your nose into his pelvis until you were deep-throating him, audibly gagging from the force of it and Leon’s ears perked up at the sound.

You didn’t plan on stopping until he spilled his cum deep down your throat, or stains your pretty face with his spend. Leon wants to see that wide-crazed smile you give him after you finish him off, your eyes all glazed over and satisfied with your work. He knows you’d rather have him fuck you properly, slipping him inside your tight wet body and keeping him snug there until you wanted him to leave. But for now, this was enough for you, and if you wanted more, Leon would be quick to oblige. He doesn’t mind getting a little messy anyway, it’s what makes things fun.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy drabble #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #resident evil smut #resident evil x reader #resident evil drabble #resident evil #resident evil x you #ovaryacted asks #sorry to be real on the timeline #I imagined an older version of Leon with this too so

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the-californicationist · 3 months

Text

He Takes a Skype Call

Price had been home for hours already, and other than kissing you passionately when he walked through the door, he’d been tied to his phone, his second phone, his datapad, and his home computer ever since. You had worn his favorite outfit, the little crop top with your spandex shorts that always drove him mad. Hell, you’d even bought a new bottle of his favorite perfume, covering your skin and hair in the scent. You were practically begging him to rail you on the floor of the foyer, but no such luck.

He was in his office now, on a call with Laswell. His computer screen was facing the back wall of the room, so if you walked in, he could see you from around the monitor, but whoever he was video calling could not. You heard him grumbling about his reports, or intel, or some other world-ending garbage, and you decided to take matters into your own hands.

You opened the door silently, just like he had taught you when you were going through his overzealous home defense training, your footsteps making no sound on the floor. Price spotted you immediately, eyes darting up to watch you enter before focusing back on his Skype meeting. It was Laswell. You could hear her harsh voice, complaining about Russia again.

Pulling your shirt off of your head, you showed off his favorite bralette to him. It was black and lacey, your nipples covered by little pink bows. You pulled off your shorts to show him the matching set. Crotchless. You had come prepared. Price made eye contact with you, eyes full of panic and stern denial. You ignored him, knowing he wouldn’t give you away to Laswell, much to his chagrin.

You smiled at him, letting him hear how wet you were as you sunk your forefinger into your pussy, pulling it out to wear your slick on your mouth like lipgloss. He shifted in his seat, breathing heavily. You crawled under the huge desk, thankful he was a fan of modern furnishings. This thing was pure glass, and you had easy access to his trousers between the legs of the table.

Price was making hand signs below the table, trying to convince you to stop, halt, cease, and desist. You knew you’d probably be in for quite the punishment after this call was over, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. He resisted your touch when you tried to move his knees apart, but a small, nearly inaudible moan from you made him panic, surrendering to your desires.

You spread his legs open, rubbing your hands up his thick thighs, in awe of his immense size. You could feel his warmth radiating through the fabric. As you let your palms pass over his zipper, he held his reaction from you, staring right at the screen, pretending to hang on every word Laswell had to say.

The button of his pants popped open easily. The zipper was tight, and you struggled. He grabbed your hand with his own, still not looking down at you, but he stopped you and took the zipper down himself, silently consenting to your attention. You could see his belly swell and sink with his labored breathing.

Your captain almost never wore underwear, so his cock was waiting for you beneath the fly of his pants, still soft but twitching and eager. You used your hand to convince him to harden, pumping him delicately, using your tongue to lick and mat the hair around his base and balls. Only when he was firm did you begin to suck on his smooth head, letting your spit drip down his shaft, making all of your movements easier.

Price took over for you, grabbing the back of your head by your hair and shoving you down until your nose was buried in his hair, your mouth full of his growing rod. You had your hands on either side of his hips, holding yourself up. He used his other hand to delicately pet your cheek, trying to convince you to relax.

He’d done this to you before. One time, after a particularly difficult deployment, the captain had come back to you a little broken. He was bandaged and bruised yes, but emotionally, he was truly wrecked. You thought he would want to use your body to relieve some of his stress, usually so fierce and hungry. But, he just wanted to put himself inside of you, warming his cock in your body. First, it was your mouth, then your pussy, hardening and softening all night in you, never really fucking you in a normal way. In the morning, he made love to you like he was worshiping you, both of you shedding tears into each other’s skin, releasing the pain of it all.

Now, he held you in the same way, clutching your head to him, making it hard for you to breathe, but you swallowed him, repositioning the angle of your throat so you could breathe in and out through your nose, and settled in. If he wanted you to, you would keep him in your mouth forever, drinking in his taste and scent like an addict. His attention was still focused on Laswell, who was going on about some sort of financial issue, and Price looked appropriately concerned.

You moved your tongue up and down his shaft, sucking lightly and swallowing as best you could. You were drooling, and your spit was running out of the corners of your mouth, dampening his pants. But, you weren’t embarrassed by it; you felt so proud to be able to give him this pleasure.

As the meeting dragged on, he managed to scoot himself, inconspicuously, down to the edge of the computer chair. One hand was visible above the desk, as he was writing in his datapad, but the other was touching you at all times - rubbing the soreness from your jaw, tightening and loosening around your throat, grabbing the nape of your neck roughly, and when it was safe to do so, he would pretend to stretch just so he could play with the little pink bow above your nipple, teasing it deliciously.

You used your hands to play with your breasts on your own, and every touch was sending tingling sparks right to your core. It was pathetic, sitting there, choking on his cock, humping the air, desperate for even the most feather-light touch. But, you didn’t care. You had one singular mission: keep John Price warm and wet and hungry for you.

Finally, too cock-drunk to handle it anymore, you moved your hand down to your pussy. It was swollen, flooded, and painfully prepared for attention. Price looked down at you as your hand began making wet, slicking noises, worried that Laswell would hear. He used his hand to grip your chin tightly, threatening you. You ignored him, sucking his cock in earnest now, bobbing your head up and down his engorged length, struggling with his girth as usual.

“Laswell,” Price asked, “Can you send this intel to my sat-tab? I’m getting another call.”

“Sure thing, Captain. We’ll talk soon.”

The computer made the closing noise and Price turned his full attention onto you. His blue eyes were hooded from lustful bliss, and he was breathing raggedly in long rumbling gasps. When you heard his voice, your blood ran cold,

“You have no idea how much trouble you’re in, pretty girl.”

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain john price #cod #john price #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price x you #captain john price smut #captain johnathan price #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #afab reader #Female reader #x female reader

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anantaru · 2 years

Text

𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗡𝗦 𝗛𝗜𝗠 𝗢𝗡 !

˖˚˳⊹ what turns him on feat. heizou : kaeya : ayato : diluc : cyno : gorou : childe : kazuha : xiao x fem! reader

˖˚˳⊹ warnings: nsfw

if heizou catches you wearing short skirts, you can be certain the next thing he'd do is make you sit on his lap, just needs to feel you right now. It always starts with him placing his calloused hands against the soft flesh of your hips, dragging your clothed pussy against his ever growing bulge, —he‘s hiking up your skirt too—, needs to see those lewd, drenched panties of yours. You can practically feel him throb against your cunt while you‘re holding onto his shoulders for support, meeting his relentless pace halfway and arching your hips so he would hit that sweet spot of yours. <3

kaeya adores it when you're bratty to him because he would obviously have a reason to punish you now. Can feel himself get hard in his pants when you deny him of your touch again, swatting away his hand, —that was lazily thrown over your shoulder—, in front of everyone. Archons, you really wanted to know it tonight. Once you actually stumbled home, you'll notice just how quick he really was, taking your wrist in his hand to pull you to the bedroom as quick as possible. "quit acting like a brat." he’s groaning, saying that with a fat big grin on his face, secretly being painfully hard because of you.

you should totally tease ayato in front of someone because he'll make sure to punish you for it later. It's like a welcoming letter to him, basically a welcoming letter to your pussy because he will take you however he wants if you even dare to touch him a little bit too close on where he actually wanted it the most. Can't believe you slid your hand over his thigh, only to draw circles pretty near against his throbbing cock, - !! in front of thoma !! - , don't worry though, ayato will surely educate you on proper manner once he's knuckles deep inside your pussy, grazing against your sweet spot and pumping his digits into you like a madman. <3

if you manage to get diluc flustered by simply looking at him, you know he's secretly thinking about spreading you across the bar counter to fuck into you raw and messy. The way your eyes would lock gazes with his own was beyond believe, the little glimmer you had in them was his favorite thing ever, it's so adorable, so sweet, and so fucking arousing for some reason. Will definitely spread your pussy with his thumbs to slide his heavy cock inside of you, tears running down those beautiful eyes of yours will only make him pump himself harder into you.

cyno's on cloud nine whenever he catches you chew on your lower lip in concentration, while the both of you are tinkering over some research papers. It's a subtle gesture, yet sweet and full of something more he couldn't quite decipher. Once you caught him staring, you're taking your chance. Slowly advancing towards his face to tease him about it. "were you daydreaming?" His cheeks would burn a red color, trying to say something in regards of your question but in all honesty, how better to shut you up then to straight up kiss you. Kiss more more tongue and teeth than anything at first. He's drawing you closer to his lap now where his growing bulge was already waiting for you to grind against.

whenever you touch gorou's ears, he's most likely already seeing white. Your skilled fingers prancing seductively over the soft fur is making his hands ball into fists, jaw clenching hard to suppress a moan but at this point, he didn't seem to care that much anymore. He's pouting, twisting and turning for you to finally touch him where he wanted it the most and who were you to deny him of anymore pleasure when you're the cause of his bulge after all. <3 Quickly hooking your fingers into the waistband of his pants to drag them down until they hit the floor, spitting a bulb of saliva on his twitching tip and slowly drawing circles around his ever-growing cock.

if you ever decide to whisper lewd things against childe's ear, you just don't even know what will await you next. Pushing you against a wall so your ass is flat on his hardened bulge, childe couldn't believe you right now. How dare you tell him those sinful things while he was in midst of talking to his subordinates. His chuckle dark, groaning out lowly through clenched teeth and sliding his hand into your pants, inserting his first painfully long finger into your tight hole. "fuck, you're swallowing me all up, baby." he muses against the shell of your ear, rough tongue licking along your neck and pumping himself knuckles deep inside of you.

if you tug on kazuha's hair while making out with him, be certain that he's already looping his arms around your body to hold you close. His lips parting at the feeling of your rough tongue licking a straight line from his ear to finally meet his lips that were eagerly waiting to engulf your own. His mind threatening to turn blank, hands digging tighter into the soft flesh of your skin and grinding you on his growing bulge. Your hands huskily burying in his hair, massaging his scalp with slow circle movements before grabbing a fistful of his strands to pull his face back so he'd look at you. Kazuha couldn't help it but moan at the feeling, his warm breath coating your lips as the expression on his face grew hazy almost, a small grin painted across his features, "do that again."

whenever you're painfully blunt about your needs in front of xiao, he could certainly feel his pants grow tighter. There's just something about you telling him exactly what you want right now, —which was his face deep between your thighs—, and xiao, who himself was thinking back about that one time you were choking him with those pretty legs of yours all night long, wouldn‘t waste any chances now. He's quick with it, pushing your knees against your stomach and licking a straight line against your pussy with his rough but needy tongue. Dark eyes finding yours, his expression hungry yet sweet, didn't even realize he‘s been rutting his cock against the mattress while eating you out. <3

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samandcolbyownme · 2 months

Text

Summary: I honestly can't think of a good summary for this, if I think of one by the end of the one shot, I'll change this, but if not, congrats, it's a surprise.

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, sister's boyfriend cheats with reader, CHEATING, snobby twin sister, mentions of alcohol, flirting, kissing, biting, hair pulling, scratching, oral (f rec), unprotected sex, creampie, filth

Going to give another warning, this story will contain mentions and actions of CHEATING - which I do NOT at all condone! Please be respectful with your people! This is just solely for the purpose of bringing spice to life of people who read this. This is all fake! There is nothing real about this. Enjoy.

Word count: 5.2K | not edited

╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗

You've always wanted to see your sister, Kelsie, happy.

But seeing her with Jake really gets under your skin. It bugs the hell right out of you because as soon as she got whiff that you liked him, she, being the younger twin of course, got what you wanted first, and of course played it off like she didn't know.

They've only been dating a few weeks, and within those few weeks, you found that there's just something about them that you can't exactly put your finger on.

It was almost, weird.

Kind of like they were putting on a show, or at least one of them was.

But ever since Jake started coming around as 'Kelsie's boyfriend', you've changed, put on a facade, acting like it's all normal and that it doesn't bother you as much as it really does.

But little do you know, Jake picked right up on that.

You've known Jake for years, so to joke around with him and tease him and such were all normal to you and him.

That was until the feelings started rolling in, and you thought it was best to just push them down, swallow them each time you caught glimpses of his beautiful face.

Kelsie and Jake got up from the table, walking towards the doors. It's quiet for a few minutes until your friend nudges your arm, "Do you like him?"

You shake your head, staring at the table before looking up at her, "I don't want to."

She tilts her head, giving you a soft smile, "But you do?"

You nod once, letting out a sigh, "I do."

"How long?" She takes a sip of her drink and you raise your brows as you ball up a straw wrapper, "Long before Kelsie, I can tell you that right now." You toss it onto the empty tray and look over at her, "I don't understand how she found out?"

"Wait, you think Kelsie is dating Jake because you liked him first?" She stares at you and you shrug, "She gets everything else that I like before me. What makes this situation any different?"

Your friend laughs slightly, " You make a good argument, y/n. I remember growing up.. you said you wanted a soccer ball, she got one almost the next day."

"It's that baby of the family bullshit." You laugh, "But I'm literally two minutes older than her. I don't-" you shake your head, looking down as Jake and Kelsie walk back in.

Your friend straightens up, "Find what you were looking for?"

Jake laughs, "yeah, I got it." He sits back down, "y/n, Johnnie wanted to know if you wanted to join us for the next video."

"What are you guys planning on doing?" You look up at him and he smirks, "Were going back to the Queen Mary."

You raise your brows, "Seriously, what. Are you fucking nuts?"

He shrugs, "Have you met me?"

You laugh slightly, "Yeah, I think so. What day?"

As Jake looks through his texts with Johnnie, Kelsie puts herself in the conversation, "What's the Queen Mary? Sounds fancy."

"It's scary." You and Jake say at the same time. You smirk slightly, "They want to do a paranormal investigation."

"You mean.. like.. ghosts?" She looks at Jake and he nods, "Yeah, ghosts."

Kelsie swallows, "I'll go."

You all look at her and she shrugs, "What?"

You laugh, "Kels, you won't go to a haunted house that's fake. What makes you think you can go somewhere that's real?"

She rolls her eyes, "I'll have Jake there to protect me." She leans over on him and he smiles slighting while nodding his head, "Thursday."

He looks up at you and you look away from Kelsie, giving Jake a small smile, "Okay."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

It was the day before the investigation and you get a text from Jake, did I piss you off?

You furrow your brows, bringing your phone closer so you can type, No?

You sit up, tilting your head as you try and think about who might have said something as you wait for a response back from Jake.

Your phone vibrates and you tap the screen, eyes scanning over the message from him, Kelsie said that you weren't coming now because you have to make a YouTube video and I don't know it just sounded like a shitty excuse.

You laugh to yourself, that's because it is. She doesn't like us being friends because-

You delete the message, retyping it, I don't have a YouTube video to film. If it did, I'd push it.

You toss your phone down, quickly grabbing it as Kelsie walks into your room, "Don't you know how to knock?"

She laughs, "I help pay the bills."

"So do I, and I pay for this, so-" you motion for her to get out, clutching your phone tight. You give in when you see she doesn't move, "Fine, what?"

"So Jake told me to tell you that they're not going to the Queen Mary anymore. Johnnie got sick and he bailed and Jake doesn't want to do it without him."

Hmm, that's funny, you think as you nod, "Oh okay. We'll I'll just text John-"

She shakes her head, giving you a quick, "No. he's asleep. I guess whatever he has is bad."

"Oh, well. Okay. I guess I'll just stay here and film a video or something." You look down at your phone, laying back as you read a text from Jake, I still want to go, but I don't want to go without you.

"Yeah, I think that's a good idea. You can do that new makeup routine one that you've been saying about."

"Well, if we're not going anymore, why don't we do that truth or drunk video? We have that new deck of cards from that PR package." You lay your phone face down on the bed and look at her.

"I scheduled an appointment to get my nails done since we weren't going, so that's what I'm going to do." She shrugs, "Maybe tomorrow?"

You nod, "That's fine."

She walks out, not saying another word and you let out a huff as you sit up. You go back into Jake's messages and you smirk as you read over his new text, I cancelled so no worries.

You laugh slightly and listen as you hear Kelsie on the phone with, who you assume is Jake, "I'll let her know. I know, I'm sad about it, too."

She walks quickly past your room and goes into hers, closing the door before you can hear anything else.

Later that day, as you're standing in the kitchen you hear the door open, "Hello?"

Jake walks around the corner and smiles, "Hey Kels."

You freeze, mind racing at a hundred miles an hour, He thinks I'm Kelsie? There's no way.

"I know I'm early." He says walking over to you.

This is your moment, you think, fucking take it.

"Hey, no it's okay." You smile and close your computer. You turn towards him but you're stopped from saying anything else by his lips crashing onto yours.

You can be Kelsie.

Your hands move to his neck, pulling yourself closer to him. He moves your laptop over, lifting you up to set you down on the counter.

He pushes his way between your knees and slides you closer to the edge as he kisses down your necks.

You tilt your head, breathing out, "Jake."

His phone ringing in his pocket, cutting whatever this is short. He steps back, eyes on you as he takes his phone out of his pocket.

You can't see the screen but he tells you that it's Johnnie.

"Hey." He walks away, "No, I'm not busy, what's up?"

You hear the front door shut and you're left sitting on the counter in complete confusion. You look around, trying to fathom what just happened, what you just did.

"Oh my god." You slide down off the counter, grabbing your laptop before running to your room. You click on your friend's contact, instantly calling them.

"Hello?"

"I need to talk to you." You say quickly, pacing back and forth in your room.

"Okay, do you want me to come over?"

"No." You say quickly, "I'll come to you. I fucked up."

"I'll leave the door unlocked."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

"You pretended to be Kelsie?!" Your friend laughs, "I mean, I don't blame you. You liked him first."

You groan, "Yes, but at the same time.. I broke a certain trust with Kelsie. Like, that's.." you sigh, "What if she finds out? What if Jake tells her? I can't just say sorry to her. When trust like that is broken, sorry means absolutely nothing."

You stand up, pacing around the room, "I'm also very confused. Like why would he just.. he has to know who we are? Right? Like after a while he just.."

"I don't know, Jake can be smart, but he can always be very stupid at times." Your friend laughs, "He couldn't have mixed you guys up. I can tell which one you are from behind."

You bite your lip, "I'm gonna call him."

Your friend sits up from their bed and shakes their head, "What if he's with Kelsie?"

"You're right." You sigh, sitting down as you stare at your phone, "Fuck it. If they're together I'll just see if they want to do that truth or drink video."

Your thumb hovers over the little phone icon before you tap it, taking a breath as you hear the line ring a few times on speaker.

"Yellow." Jake says, a cheery tone to his voice, "What can I do for you?"

"Are you with my sister?" You ask and he hums, "That depends. What are you calling for?"

Your eyes go wide as you look at your friend who covers their mouth.

"I'm, um. Calling to see if you guys want to do a video with me? A truth or drink video." You close your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose.

"I'm on my way to go pick her up now, I can see if she wants to do it later?" He says and you nod to yourself, "Yeah, I mean. That's fine. Just le-"

"That's not why you called me."

His words cause a feeling of panic to rush through you, "Yes it was."

"Mm. Are you sure? The tone in your voice makes it sound li-"

You cut him off, "just let me know." You hang up and toss your phone away from you.

"What the fuck was that?!" Your friend asks pushing your arm, "We were literally about to figure out if he meant to do what he did or not."

Your phone vibrates and your friend holds it up with Jake's name and picture on the screen.

"Just.. I can't.. okay. I just.." you sigh, grabbing it from her hand and answering it.

"Hello?" You put the phone on speaker and Jake sighs, "What's going on with you?"

"What do you mean what's going on with me?" You snap, "Sorry that.. came out meaner than I intended."

Jake laughs, "You don't seem like.. you anymore? What's up with that?"

"What do you mean?" You chew on your nail and he groans a dramatic groan, "You're going to be the death of me, y/n. What do you mean what do I mean?"

"I don't.. know what to tell you, because I'm fine." You rest your fingers on your lips lightly, "I'm good. You're good. We're good."

"Mm." Jake hums, "Alright, if you say so. I'll see you tonight."

"Tonight?" You ask, slightly nervous and Jake laughs, "For truth or drink? I'm not giving Kelsie a choice. I want to hang out with you, too."

You mouth 'I want to hang out with you, too.. what?' to your friend and they shrug, "Okay. I'm not home right now, but I'll go home and get everything set up."

"Where are you?" He asks and you can hear the car go into park.

"I'm at y/f/n's house." You answer and he is quiet for a minute, "Okay. Kelsie is coming. I gotta go."

"Talk to you later." You sigh quietly and Jake laughs slightly, "Yeah, love ya."

You hear the three beeps and slowly look up from your phone to your friend. They're staring at you, "I need to to get my hearing checked because that sounded a lot like-"

"I know." You cut them off.

You stand up, tucking your phone into your back pocket, "Can you join the video with us?" Your friend nods, "Do I have time to get ready?"

"You can get ready while I set up." You grab your keys and take a deep breath, "What the fuck is going on?"

They rub your back, "I know it's hard, and it's going to be hard, but for now, just think of him as a dirty little secret."

"Yeah, my beautiful, dirty little secret that won't eat me alive." You roll your eyes, laughing slightly, "What the fuck did I get myself into?"

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

You walk into the house and it's quiet.

"Kels?" You call out, looking back at your friend as you walk in, "You home?" You close the door and shrug, "I guess they aren't here yet."

You walk to the room and set your stuff down. You sit in the chair and feel your phone vibrate in your pocket.

"Can I use some of your makeup?" Your friend asks and you nod while you pull your phone out, "Yeah, whatever you want."

Your eyes scan over the text from Jake, I'm actually really exited to see you.

"He just said.. I'm actually really exited to see you. What the fuck does that mean?" You tell to your friend, looking up as they walk into the room, "It means he's excited to see you."

You groan, setting your phone down.

"Answer him back." They motion to your phone and you sigh, "What if it's a trap? Sometimes when he's with Kelsie I'm half afraid that it's her setting me up."

Your friend laughs, "I'm starting to think that there's really no mix up at all. He had to know that you were you."

"Fine." You grab your phone, "But if Kelsie is setting me up, I'm moving to a remote island. I can't take the humiliation she'll put me through."

Your thumbs tap the screen, I'm excited to film this video.

"What did you say?" Your friend walks around and looks over your shoulder, "Really?"

You shrug, "I didn't know what else to say?"

"About what?" Keslie asks as she walks into the room, hand in hand with Jake. You lock your phone, setting it down in your lap, "Nothing."

"Ooh." She smirks, "Got a little secret, hmm?"

Your eyes move to Jake, "No. no secret."

You watch as his eyebrow twitches and he fights back a smirk. You roll your eyes, "Let's just, get ready so we can make this video."

You get up and walk to your room, your friend close behind, "Hey." They whisper, "You like totally did a three sixty. What's up?"

You pull them into your room and close the door, "I'm just.. so confused by this whole thing. I don't even want to do this I don't know why I even said it."

"Well they're here now. Can't really back out of it now." They shrug and sit down to do their makeup, "We can make it a quick one, just try and get her to tap out first."

You sit down, "She'll pick right up on my games, y/f/n. I can't just-" you shake your head, "I'll talk to him when the time is right I guess."

An hour into filming, you've already had to take a few shots, mainly for dumb questions.

"Alright." You sigh, "my turn." You lean forward, slipping a card from the top of the deck, "If anyone in this room has had or has a secret crush, take a shot or reveal said crush to skip the drink."

"My secret crush is that barista down the road." Your friend says with a laugh and you look over at them, "The blonde one?"

They nod, "Oh yeah." They smirk and push their shot glass away, "I'm safe."

You look at Kelsie and Jake, "Spill or drink, you pick."

Jake smirks, filling his little glass, "Yeah, I'll just.." he takes his shot while Kelsie stares at him, "Um, okay?" She rolls her eyes, forcing out a laugh.

"Who's yours, Kels?" Your friend asks and she smirks, leaning into Jake, "Jake of course."

"Yeah that wasn't really a secret." You laugh and she looks at you, "What do you mean by that?"

"Okay." Jake says, "Next question, y/f/n, you can go." He motions to the cards and your friend takes one off the top, "Mm. Okay. Would you hook up with your high school crush?"

You immediately answer, "Oh yeah."

Jake was your high school crush.

"I would." Jake nods and looks at Kelsie, "Would you?"

She sighs, "I mean, if i wasn't dating you and had the change.." she nods, "Probably. Yeah."

Kelsie reaches up, taking a card. She giggles as she reads it, "what is the craziest thing you've ever done?"

Your eyes go wide as a flashback of Jake putting you up on the counter flashes in your mind. You blink it away, straightening up as you look around pretending to think, "mm."

"Craziest thing I've ever done was probably do that free fall thing, you know the thing that catches you by the net?" Your friend says and Kelsie gasps, "You really did that?"

Your friend nods, "Oh yeah. I'd totally do it again."

"I wanna do that." Kelsie looks at Jake, "We should go one of these days!"

Jake nods, "Yeah, we can all go. Y/f/n said she wants to go again."

You smirk slightly, covering it up with your fist, "I'm not adventurous enough to do anything crazy." You lie, "So I'll just.." you pour yourself a drink, knocking it back before setting down the glass.

"I've done way too many crazy things, so I'll just take one." Jake laughs as he pours a shot. He tilts his head back, giving you a wink as you look at him before setting down his empty glass, "My turn."

Another hour of question and you guys just drinking whenever you want later, you sigh, "I think this video is over." You laugh, "We have enough footage I think, who knows."

Kelsie laughs, clearly drunk, "It's fine, sis. We can make it work." She reaches across the table and pats your hand with hers.

She gets super lovey and nice when she's drunk, so that's how you know she's done for the night.

"I think it's bedtime for Kelsie." You pat her hand and she sighs, "Nooo. I want music." She stands up, "Alexa, play today's pop hits."

Greedy by Tate McRae comes on and she moves her chair, dancing and singing to the music.

You look at Jake, "How do you deal with this?" He shrugs, looking from Kelsie to you, "I just.. do." He laughs slightly and stands up, "Alright, lady. Bed time."

She lets out a whine as he pulls her towards the door.

You stand up, leaning over your friend to turn off the camera, "I'll edit this tomorrow, Alexa. Off."

The song stops playing and you sit back down, "What do I do?"

"I think, you should just talk to him." Your friend nudges you, "I'll keep watch in case Boozey McPlastered makes an appearance."

You sigh, "Thank you."

They nod, "Of course. You deserve the happy ended you wanted in the first place."

You and your friend walk to the kitchen, still drinking up courage to come clean to Jake about everything.

A little bit later you look from the hall to your friend, "I haven't heard anything in a while, maybe he fell asleep with her."

"No he didn't." Jake says walking around the corner with a laugh, "What's going on here?"

"Just.. having a casual conversation over some alcohol.. ya know girl talk." You laugh, completely loosened up from the shots and added drinks.

"Ah huh." He says slowly, "I see. Well can I join, I mean." He clicks his tongue, "I am one of americas favorite ladies."

You laugh, sliding your glass over, "You sure can."

"Would you look at that." Your friend checks their phone, "I'm going to go to bed, in the guest bedroom.. in case you needed to find me." They walk away and Jake looks from them to you, "They're not very slick, you know?"

"Yeah." You sigh, "I know."

There's a few minutes of silence before you both talk at the same time.

"So about-"

"So I ju-"

You point, "Go ahead."

Jake shakes his head laughing, "No, you go. Sorry."

You sigh, "I don't even, actually know how to, or even what to say." You laugh slightly and Jake brings a hand up, twirling a piece of your hair, "You know what to do."

Without thinking, you lean in, pressing your lips to his for a few seconds. You lean back, shock taking over, "I just.. I don't.." you stumble over your words and Jake starts to smile, "Do it again."

You freeze, looking from his eyes to his lips, "Why?"

He shrugs, licking his lips, "Because I want you to."

"What about-"

He cuts you off, "I want you, wanted you all along. You just didn't seem like you wanted me, but since your friend told me that Kelsie is only with me out of spite because you liked me first.." he reaches out, hooking his thumb into the belt loop of your jeans and pulling you towards him, "..things have changed."

A smirk grows on your lips as you move to him, placing your hand on his chest, "You know?"

He nods, "And just to confirm.." he smirks, looking into your eyes, "There's no mix up. I can tell you and her apart by your hands. I just wanted to test it, see if you'd kiss me back."

"Well, doesn't seem like I will?" You smile and he nods, tilting his head as he slides his hand around to grab your ass, "Seems like you'll do a lot more, babe."

Your heart feels like it's about to thump from your chest, "You have no idea." You move your head in, hands moving to tangle in his hair as you plant your lips on his.

He bends down, lifting you up. Your legs wrap around his waist, and it's like earlier all over again. But only this time, he walks you to your room.

He salutes your friend who's sitting on the floor by the guest bedroom, watching Kelsie's door. Your friend covers her mouth to not laugh and salutes him back.

Thank you, you mouth quietly to them and they wave you off.

Jake walks into your room, turning to quietly shut and lock the door. He walks you over to your bed, laying you down slowly as his body hovers over yours.

Your lips reconnect, quickly leading into a hot, passionate, well earned make out.

You moan quietly against his lips and he leans back slightly, "You gonna be quiet for me while I finally get a taste of you?"

You nod, "Anything you want."

"Well, I want you, but I think we've already been over that." He winks and brushes hair from your face, "Undress for me."

He moves to stand up, discarding his clothes as you quickly take yours off.

You lay back down, Jake moving up to peck your lips before kissing down your body.

His head dips between your legs and his tongue drags upward between your folds. You arch your back, biting down onto your lip as his tongue moves to thrust inside of you.

Your hands move to his hair, pushing down as your fingers tangle in his hair.

You feel him groan lowly against you, digging his fingers into your hips harder as he pulls you to him.

You knew it was wrong, but it feels so, so, so fucking nice.

Jake glances up at you before attaching his lips to your clit. Your eyes roll back as the pleasured sensation washes through you.��

"Jake." You whimper out quietly, looking down at him. He slides a hand down around from your hip, dragging it under your thigh to slip two of his fingers into your wet cunt.

You gasp, bucking your hips slightly as you breathe out a quiet, "s-shit."

He curls his fingers, thrusting them in and out at a teasingly slow pace.

You spread your knees farther apart, biting hard on your lip as your eyes lock onto his. He turns his head, planting gentle kisses on the inside of your thigh.

He slowly pulls his fingers out, bringing them up to his lips. You watch in awe as he licks them clean, enjoying every drop he can get from them.

He moves back up, pushing his hips between your knees. His lips crash onto yours, his tongue sharing the flavor of your juices as it moves against yours.

He groans lowly as the tip of his cock rubs against your center, "I've never needed anything as much as I need you wrapped around my cock right now."

You roll your hips, voice quiet and slightly desperate, "Please, Jake."

He reaches down, guiding his cock steady as he pushes the head of his cock into you.

You gasp, "oh my-"

Jake lays his hand over your mouth, "Gotta be quiet babe." He watches as you nod before resting his forehead against yours, "Fuck."

He slowly pulls out, thrusting back in slowly. His voice is deep, quiet, "You feel so good."

Your arm slings around his neck, legs around his waist. His hand still over your mouth, muffling your moans as his thrusts build up to a quicker pace.

He moves his hand to replace it with his lips. Your lips move in sync as your nails drag up his back.

Nothing makes sense right now, but at the same time it feels so nice to finally get what you wanted for a change.

You lay a hand on his cheek, moaning quietly as you feel close, "D-don't stop." You whimper out, "I'm so close."

You squeeze his cock with your walls, earning a groan from him, "Fuck." He kisses down your neck, biting and sucking a hickey onto your skin.

You didn't care at this point.

If he was going to be your dirty little secret, you were going to have to lie anyway, right?

You pull him closer, digging your nails into his skin as you finally let go, biting down on your lip as you cum around his cock.

Jake places his hand over your mouth, muffling the moans you can't hold back.

"That's it." He whispers, planting a kiss to your forehead, "Do you feel good?"

You move your eyes to look up at him, nodding as much as you can.

"Good. Roll over for me." He pulls out, moving to rest back on his calves as he watching you roll over onto your stomach.

He leans down, one arm by your head to support himself as his cock is re-welcomed by your walls, "So fucking good." He moves down to his elbow, sliding his other hand over to lay it on your neck.

He gently squeezes as he whispers in your ear, "So who was your high school crush?"

He already knows the answer to that. You wouldn't have answered as fast as you did if it wasn't him.

"You." You breathe out, "Fuck, Jake it was you. Always you."

He groans lowly, nipping at your ear as he holds his cock still, "You're gonna make me cum." He laughs slightly, "I kind of don't want to do that yet."

You nod as he dips his head down to kiss your shoulder, "kind of don't wanna pull out either."

"So don't." You whisper, not even fully sure of what you said.

It was an in the moment kind of thing.

"You don't want me to?" He slowly starts to thrust again and you shake your head, "not really." You turn your head, looking at him from over your shoulder.

He kisses your cheek, "Now it's really tempting." He leans up, grabbing your hips as he thrusts in and out.

You lay your head down, biting down on the pillow so you don't sound too loud, "Fuck. Fuck."

Jake reaches down, grabbing a handful of your hair, tilting your head back slightly and you resume biting down on your lip as you fight to control your moans.

"You're so hot." Jake groans lowly, "Feels so. Fucking. Good."

You gasp, clenching around him as you cum once more, laying a hand over your own mouth as you allow the pleasure to consume you.

His thrusts grow sloppy and he pauses, allowing his cock to twitch and spill inside of you.

He lets go of your hair, leaning down to kiss your shoulder, "You okay?"

You turn your head, nodding, "I'm okay." You smile as you lift yourself up. Jake moves, looking around before he grabs a towel off your chair.

You clean up, sitting up to slip your shirt back on, "I hate to be this girl, but what does this mean?"

"For us?" He asks getting dressed, "Well, I think it means that I want to be with you and I have to find an easy way to let your sister down."

You nod, running a hand through your hair, "Yeah."

Jake's moves to sit next to you, "What's up?"

"I just.. everything feels like it's a mess.." you lean into him, "But everything also feels so right when it comes to you."

Jake tilts your chin up, looking down at you, "It's going to be you and me, like it should have been from the start. Okay?"

You nod and he presses a kiss to your nose, "I promise."

"She's going to lose it, might even hate me when she finds out that you left her to be with me." You laugh slightly, "I just.. a part of me feels bad but at the same time.." you sit up and look at Jake, "It feels so fucking good."

He pulls you onto his lap, hands sliding down to your waist, "Which part feels so fucking good exactly." You smile as he lays back, "If you have time, I can just show you."

He raises his brows, "I like the sound of that."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

I genuinely feel like this one fucking sucked for some reason, I struggled to write it. But as always, let me know how you liked it, ilysm thanks for reading.

Like and reblogs are appreciated 🖤

Taglist: @fawned01 @theblackcatwitch @jaeyuns-world @littlec0ffeegirl @rosie-writings @nikkiwastaken @skyslondon @urmomsgirlfriend1 @this-is-not-eirini @666-gothic-bat-666 @udonknowmeh12 @inside--her--fantasy @btaekookies

#samandcolby-ownme #Jake Webber #Jake Webber one shots #Jake Webber smut #there’s no mix up #jake webber one shot #jake webber x reader smut #jake webber dirty #jake webber x reader #dirty one shots Jake Webber #smut one shot #smut one shots #one shot smut #smutty one shot #smut writer #dirty one shot #smut jake webber

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freedomfireflies · 11 months

Text

Watch Me*

Summary: An extra for Teach Me*

It wouldn't be a party with Harry if there wasn't some light fighting and exhibitionism...right?

Word Count: 3.2k

*Contains Mature and Explicit Content. Take care of yourself first, only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞*

“Shit…easy—easy, Bee. For fuck’s sake. Are you trying to fucking kill me?”

Your eyes roll in response to Harry’s whines as you continue pressing the cotton ball into his skin. “I’m sorry, I’m trying to be gentle.”

“Oh, mhm. I can see that,” he snorts, leaning back against the wall. “I think you just like seeing me in pain. Sadist.”

The corner of your mouth quirks up. “Maybe.”

Your strokes are gentle but quick. The fluffy, white fibers of the gauze work to absorb the crimson stains smeared across his knuckles as the alcohol seeps through the broken skin.

He hisses again from the vexatious sting before settling once more. The small bathroom falls quiet, save for the sounds of the party happening throughout the rest of the house, but you feel his eyes glue to your face.

“Bee?”

Your brow raises but you keep your attention on his hand. “Hm?”

“Are you mad?”

Great fucking question.

You take a moment to find your response. Waiting until the wound is officially cleaned before tossing the cotton ball away and turning to him.

“No,” you say truthfully. “I know why you did it. And I know you could have really hurt him if you’d wanted to.”

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip in thought, wincing some when he feels that injury as well. “Yeah, well—” He reaches up to press his thumb into the cut, “—I was feeling generous.”

You chuckle under your breath as you retrieve another tissue. Then, after dampening it with a bit of water, you push up onto your tiptoes and press the paper to the nick on his mouth.

“Still,” you murmur, gently padding the bruise, “I can’t be mad at you for wanting to defend me. Even if it was kind of dumb.”

His attention never leaves you. “I’ll always defend you.”

You smile.

“Especially from him,” he adds, glancing toward the door with furrowed brows, almost as if Eric is waiting right on the other side. “God, I fucking—he’s an ass, Bee.”

“Yes, I know,” you tease, stepping back to dispose of the tissue before grabbing the wrapping for his hand. “That is kind of his whole thing. Although you didn’t exactly help.”

Harry turns back to you, blinking innocently as if absolutely dumbstruck by the notion. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“No?” You begin bandaging his bloodied knuckles with the utmost care, despite the sarcastic tiff you two are in. “So…you sticking your hand up my shirt and sucking on my neck so he’d see was just…a happy coincidence?”

“I mean, I was pretty happy,” he argues.

You smirk, arms crossing when you’re through covering his hand. “Trust me. I know.”

“Look, I was just…enjoying the party,” he replies, shoulder lifting in a nonchalant shrug. “S’not my fault he just so happened to start watching.”

Your smile grows. “You wanted him to watch.”

He allows for a moment to look at you. “So did you.”

His tone has dropped to a devious murmur as he pushes off the wall and closes the small space between you.

Your lashes flutter. “Says who?”

“Says you.”

“Yeah? And when did I say that?”

He comes to a stop about a foot away, his chest thisclose to brushing against yours. The potential contact makes your head spin.

“When you were grinding against my cock,” Harry whispers, the proximity allowing for each word to dance across your cheek. “When you were whimpering my name. When you were guiding my hand under your little sweater the moment he looked over.”

He dips down, hoping to intimidate you, and you don’t want it to work…but it does.

“Isn’t that true, Bee?” he continues. “Wanted him to watch me touch you. Wanted him to watch me do what he never could. Wanted me to fuck you right there in the middle of that room and let him see how good you are for me.”

Your breath catches on the need bubbling up the back of your throat as you let him trap you against the sink.

“Asked you a question,” he pushes, his head cocking as his battered hand begins to reach for you. His fingers slip across the material of your sweater, and it seems innocent enough. For now. “Even though I already know the answer.”

“Yeah?” Your response is airer than you’d like. “And what’s my answer?”

The tip of his nose momentarily ghosts across yours as he hums. “Your answer…” he replies before you feel his bandaged palm smooth across your stomach, “…is yes. Yes, you wanted him to watch me ruin you. Yes, you wanted him to see the way you come for me. Yes…you want him to know how fucking well you behave.”

And maybe you shouldn’t be, but you’re so goddamn turned on right now. You hadn’t expected to see such a violent side of him tonight, but watching Harry beat the ever-loving shit out of your ex changed something for you.

Perhaps with a little therapy, you’ll discover why, but tonight…tonight you want to chase this feeling as far as it’ll take you.

Your hand finds his hair, nails scraping at his scalp as you tug him the last few inches. “Har—”

“What?” He keeps his lips from you. Either because of the fact that they’re busted or because he’s trying to taunt you. But no matter the reason…it makes you whine. “What is it, hm? What do you want?”

Your other hand finds his shirt as your fingers desperately tug on the once clean, white material now painted with splatters of blood. His and Eric’s.

“You,” you breathe, as if it were obvious. “Please, Har—”

“No.” He straightens up, taking hold of your wrists to tug them away from his body. “No, I wanna hear you say it.”

“Say what?”

He smiles. “That you liked it.”

With an overdramatic huff, you lean back against the porcelain sink. “And what is it that I’m agreeing to liking? Him watching us or you knocking his teeth down his throat?”

He hums. “Both.”

Torn, you bite the inside of your lip in thought. “…fine. Fine. I liked it. Happy?”

His head shakes once before he’s leaning back in. “I want you to tell me…how much you like it…when I play with what’s mine. When anybody could see.”

The recall to the conversation that night in the restaurant is like a tug on your heartstrings and instantly, your walls crumble.

You grab onto his face and smash your lips into his. And it’s a bit messy, and rushed, and not at all gentle from the way he hisses against your mouth from the assault to his cut.

But the moment you attempt to pull back in an effort to ease his discomfort, he puts a hand on the back of your head to keep you close.

He likes the pain.

You smile into the kiss but aren’t afforded the chance to revel in this gleeful discovery before he’s groaning under a strained breath and turning you around.

It’s almost violent the way his hands meld to your hips as he rotates you. Forcing your stomach to meet the sink as your eyes meet the mirror.

Your reflection is much too telling. You see your surprised expression, your wide eyes, and your swollen lips.

You see the soft stain of his blood smeared across your mouth. See the angry marks littering your neck from his previous display of dominance in the living room. See the way your chest rises and falls from the ragged breaths you’re trying to take.

And then…you see him.

Standing behind you, his body pressed firmly to yours. You see the way his arms snake around your middle, the white dressing around his knuckles catching your attention as you follow it down your body.

He’s moving for the button on your jeans, tugging almost angrily until he can yank the material down to your knees.

You’d forgone any underwear when getting dressed earlier. Something that wouldn’t be a standard choice for you when wearing a rough material like denim. But tonight, this choice was intentional.

You hear (and see) Harry growl the moment his eyes find the object sitting snugly between your ass.

And although he’d actually watched you put it in, he stares at it as though this the first time he’s ever been witness to something so beautiful.

You feel the rough fibers of the gauze ghost across your skin as he gently runs his finger over the tip of the plug. He murmurs something under his breath you don’t catch (but sounds a lot like, “Pretty.”) before he looks over your shoulder.

You find each other. And in this one, unspoken moment…you feel everything.

The wounded hand sneaks back over your hip as he reaches for your cunt. And you watch with a racing pulse as the reflection shows you exactly what you’ve been needing.

He keeps you cemented to his chest as he slips two nimble fingers down your stomach. He finds your clit but bypasses it without a second thought, making you squirm a bit in his determined hold.

He travels down your cunt until he can find the mess you’ve been making for him all evening. Until he can feel just what having this plug inside you has been doing to help you along. Until he can take a taste for himself.

Scarlet spots of blood are already seeping through the white bandage as he eases a finger inside. It has to be one of the most erotic things you’ve ever been privileged to see, and you clench pitifully as your head drops back against his shoulder.

He grins with this and adds a second finger in beside the first. He’s decided that tonight isn’t the night to be gentle. To go easy and give you time. Tonight, he wants to take what’s his.

His other hand works on his own pants and the sound of his zipper coming undone makes a shiver run down your spine.

You watch his light wash and incredibly torn jeans travel down his thick thighs before he’s reaching into his briefs.

You can’t see his cock, but you can feel it hit your ass cheek as he brings it out and pumps it a few times.

You’ve been needing him all night. All damn day, in fact. And this teasing lull he’s enforced only reminds you of this ache in your stomach as you whimper. As you silently plead with him to pick up the pace and feed your insatiable habit.

You have a feeling the tiny jewel between your ass is doing wonders to help him along because while you know he’d normally prolong such an event…tonight, he’s quick to kick your feet apart.

He runs the tip through a time or two before finding your eyes in the mirror.

“Ready?” he murmurs, soft breaths trickling across your shoulder.

You nod, fingers curling around the edge of the porcelain to brace yourself. “Always. Go.”

He smirks at your eager insistence before he’s pushing in. And it’s rather easy considering how little foreplay was involved. But you suppose there didn’t really need to be. Not today. Not after all the teasing and grinding you’ve been put through the past couple of hours.

Still, his size is something to be admired, and you hum rather contently at the delicate sting of such a stretch.

His damaged hand moves up to your clit, rubbing in slow, lazy circles.

You’re enraptured by each sensation. Each wonderful, purposeful sensation. His languid thrusts as he works himself in. His ministrations to your cunt as he plays with you like a toy. The stimulation from the butt plug as it’s brushed with each drive of Harry’s hips.

And him. You could watch him forever. The way his beautiful brows furrow in concentration. The way his sharp jaw clenches tight from the feeling off your body squeezing around him like a vice. The way those hauntingly stunning eyes roll back in his head.

“Bee,” he grunts, dipping down to press his mouth to the side of your neck. “Fucking shit, honey…wish you could see how good you look taking my cock right now.”

Honestly, you wish you could, too.

You reach back and card your fingers through his curls, tugging him closer. “Har…please—”

“I know.” He nips just below your ear. “I know. Gonna have to be quick, okay? ’Cause I gotta take you home.”

Your lashes flutter as you study him. “What? Why?”

He looks up. Finds you in the mirror. Smirks. “D’you really think I’m gonna fuck your ass for the first time in this shitty fucking bathroom at this shitty fucking party?”

Oh.

Your cheeks warm as you mewl your excitement and attempt to wiggle back into him. “Shit, then hurry. Please…please, Daddy.”

You know it’s cruel to break out the moniker so early, but you need him. Need everything he can give you.

And it has the intended result if the way his entire expression darkens is any indication.

His grip becomes tighter. His thrusts get deeper. His motivation grows stronger.

He bottoms out, sheathing himself completely as you gasp and surge forward. It’s everything you’ve been needing. Full to the outmost extent. To feel him everywhere.

He releases your hip to return a hand to your clit while that bandaged hand of his moves to your throat.

His rough fingertips press into the sides of your throat until your eyes grow heavy. Until your muscles have liquified and your body is slumping into his.

And he waits. Waits a second or two more until your pulse begins to slow before loosening his grip and letting you gasp for air.

And now that you can breathe again, it’s easier to focus on the sounds. The sound of his cock burying inside your aching cunt as it echoes around the light blue walls of the small bathroom. The sound of his heavy grunts and virile demands. The sound of your own whines as you whisper his name.

He slows his familiar rhythm. Lets himself drag through you until it nearly hurts. Until you’re left with this need to feel everything harder and faster and just…more.

His name drips from your tongue like rain from a cloud. Over and over until it’s all you can say. All you understand. Just his name. Just him.

He’s so beautiful. So absolutely glorious right now as he nearly takes a bite out of your shoulder, dark hair falling across his forehead from the harsh snapping of his hips.

And his hand. That bloodied hand of his that rammed itself into Eric’s face so many times, you honestly lost count.

He’s worn bandages before. Mostly after a round or two with the punching bag at the gym. And you’ve told him a plethora of times how sexy it is. You’re not even sure why. Perhaps what it represents, a reminder of the fight. Of the pain he’s endured.

Now? Now it’s stained with your ex’s blood. Proof of Harry’s love for you. Proof of what he’d do to keep you safe, make you feel comfortable.

Sure, Harry had allowed Eric to watch him tease you so openly for anybody to see. But the moment Eric’s expression had shifted—from surprised to cocky—Harry was flying out of the chair and throwing him against the wall.

It had taken you fifteen minutes to calm him down and drag him away to the bathroom. And Eric had simply laughed through the pool of blood in his mouth, cupping his broken nose as if he had won the fight. Just because he pushed Harry to his breaking point.

It was barbaric and idiotic and so goddamn stupid.

But you’d never felt so enamored.

And now, he wears this badge of honor proudly as he yanks you even further into his chest. As he uses your body for his own pleasure. As he presses his mouth to your ear and seethes, “My dirty little cumslut. Gonna come for me, aren’t you? Gonna come so I can take you home…and fuck this pretty ass.”

With that, he reaches down to slap his palm against your outer thigh, and the sharp smack of skin against skin bounces between the walls.

You’re so close. So close to getting everything you’ve ever wanted, and you don’t even care that half the house can probably hear you moaning for him. Can probably picture exactly what he’s doing to you as he ruins you from behind.

Which you don’t doubt he wants.

And maybe…you want it, too.

You can taste the beginnings of your orgasm as Harry chases after each whimper that leaves your throat. As he pinches your clit, rolls it between his fingers, presses into it until you see stars.

“Watch me,” he breathes, as if he thinks you could ever do anything else. “You fucking watch me ruin you. Watch the way you come for me. Watch the way you fucking fall apart like my perfect little whore.”

And you do. You watch him. Watch as he smooths his fingers through you. Watch as he spreads you. Watch as he feels you. Watch him touch you with a focused care that only comes from a man who gets more satisfaction from your orgasm than his own.

And it’s quite fun. Quite erotic. To see that tattooed arm flex and roll as he feels you out. As he allows you to see how red and needy your body has become for him. As he slaps his palm against your pussy just to feel you jolt and clench down on him.

And then…the door opens.

It opens, and neither one of you has to look over to know who’s caught you. You can see her reflection in the mirror.

Tina.

You watch as she goes deathly still, face paling as her mouth falls open, an assumed apology already locked and loaded.

But for some reason…she doesn’t leave. At least not immediately as she looks between you and seems to piece a few extra things together.

And Harry doesn’t stop. Because of course he doesn’t stop. You don’t imagine a fucking hurricane ripping through the house could make him stop.

He simply smirks as he leans in to press an open-mouthed kiss to your cheek before groaning lowly and lewdly.

And it’s your name he says as he scratches his nails down the front of your throat. Your name that he practically sings as he whispers, “Bet you fucking love this, hm, Bee? Should I let her watch? Let her watch you come for me?”

And you trip over a broken whimper as Tina quickly backs away, slams the door shut, and calls out a flustered, “Sorry!” through the wall.

Alone again, Harry picks up the pace. The noises being grunted into your ear now much more animalistic the closer he gets to his own release.

You watch as the poor cut down his bottom lip cracks open a bit more with each audacious kiss. Until the entire left side of your face is smeared with little droplets of his blood.

God, you love wearing him like this. More than anything and seeing it in the reflection is what pushes you over.

His bandaged hand on your throat, his tattooed arm spreading your pussy open, and his outrageously thick cock making a home inside your cunt.

The sound you make is a strange mix between a gasp and a scream, but it makes the vein in Harry’s neck twitch as he groans.

Not long after, he’s painting your insides with his come. And it’s warm, and full, and the absolute perfect end to a perfect party.

Because you know…

This is only the beginning.

Next Part:

~ Lead Me*

Previous Part:

~ Find Me*

- Full Teach Me Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

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