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imaddicted2hs · 2 years

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A one shot of enemies to friends to lovers

Another one shot yes because i don't feel like continuing the series i started just yet.

This is not my best work why lie. I could have done way better but i guess i got too excited to just finish it. Though promise, next post will be better than this because i will give it time.

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Word Count- 2,527

warnings- none

happy reading!!

Nothing is better than a romantic weather with pink skies and soft breeze carrying a sweet smell of wet leaves. But sitting with your legs on the dashboard as you and your friend (with whom you are secretly in love with) jam together to the songs loudly, driving past wide, empty fields, is a cherry on the top really. "Are we ever going to make a stop or our plan is to drive until the fuel tank is empty?" He doesn't answer right away. I stare at his side profile, which I dare to say is perfect, waiting for a response. "I know it's hard for you to stay still in a place like a good pup, but 10 more minutes babe, we are almost at our motel." I dramatically gasp and smack his arm which makes him chuckle.

Long story short, few months back as I was walking past the school lab, my ears couldn't help but listen to someone talk through the paper thin walls. It was that cocky voice which I could recognize from miles away. Harry Styles. My biggest enemy and academic rival. If someone told me at the time that I'll be hanging out with him and secretly even like him a lot, I would have declared that person delusional. He and I had all the same classes and what can I say other than that everyone knew if we got a chance to stab each other to death we wouldn't let it slide. He wanted to be the one to score the most and so did I. We pulled all sort of pranks just to bring the other one down at our level. Ms. Grey, our English professor never gave any of us the chance to answer in class because it all ended with torn notebooks, weird drawings on the faces and the class hooting. Yes we both have had a perfect record other than those countless detentions because of each other. "UGH finally. I have been dying to pee and take a shower." I see him roll his eyes but I don't pay any mind to it because I'm too busy collecting my stuff and leaving the old red mustang. My grandmother was crazy about cars and made sure to leave the best one of her collections for her best granddaughter that is me. "Can we have a room with two single beds for one night? Oh and can you please check if you have the once with a balcony." As the receptionist in front of me does her thing, I look out of the window as Harry takes out his stuff from the backseat and closes the door. Not for a single second I take my eyes off of him until the lady that was long forgotten by me clears her throat for my attention. "Oh yeah sorry." I smile awkwardly as I pick up the key kept in front of me. "Gimme the keys I'll open the door, make the payment and keep the stuff so that you can go collect your stuff you forgot in the backseat and lock the car because you brought the keys with yourself." I sigh and hand him the key and make a quick run outside.

I'm huffing like a mad person as I finally reach the fourth floor because this place didn't have an elevator. My eyes widen as I hear the shower running and I don't waste a second to bang on the door and shout "how dare you, you cheater! You knew I wanted to use the bathroom badly you cruel ass." I whine. I sit angrily on the bed staring at the door so that as soon as it opens I can ruin his pretty face with my nails and maybe bite him so that his body hurts. He opens the door and before I get to throw my tantrum I notice that he is fully dressed and his hair is dry. "But-" he cuts me off "it wasn't in the best condition and you are extremely crazy about hygiene so I just ran some water so that it looks less dirty." I'm embarrassed. "Oh my god I-" "Go use it before you make a mess here" he chuckles and before I turn even more red I leave the room faster than Flash himself. On the first day of the semester last year, he slimed me just because I took his favourite seat and he had to sit in the last row. It was funny to see his face during the whole class and hearing his tone as he introduced himself. Even if I had to face the consequences and get slimed in the end, it was worth it. And today he gave a thought to my pet peeve which has my mind all puzzled. And I even forgot to bring a clean pair of clothes with me inside. I'll have to go out in the towel. I suck in a long breath and open the door to find him on the bed scrolling through his phone. "Can you please close your eyes?" He looks directly at me totally still and the moment I see something change in his eyes he quickly mutters a sure and looks away with his eyes clamped shut before I can figure out the look.

The series of events has been too embarrassing for my liking and I'm almost at the brink of overthinking. "Meet me downstairs in an hour okay?" "Don't forget the whipped cream for me." "Alright and wear a jacket, it gets cold at night." I hum in response and he leaves. What exactly are we doing here? Well after a prank war, unlimited broken pens, thousands of notes lost, the headmaster was fed up with us. We were called in the office after I had pulled a pretty big prank on him which was dope but he denied that wholeheartedly. He hated cats, what an abomination right? So I came early in the morning, and just before the bell, I put not 1 but 4 kittens and a cat in his locker. More to my luck, he was late that day and didn't take the necessary precautions we used to whenever we opened our lockers because locker pranks were the most common ones. He opened it in a hurry and was met with the smallest kitten ready to leap on him. The look on his face as he shrieked didn't go uncaptured ofcourse. He was horrified and I was grinning like the most evil creature. The other two kittens with the help of his hoody climbed on him and started licking his face as he tried to shoo them out of his locker. The cat was the most stubborn and the dirty looks Harry gave to her were too funny. I just couldn't stop laughing. As he finally managed to get rid of them, they all were not in his favour as they started roaming in the corridor creating noises. Teachers who were teaching with the doors open stepped out just to give Harry the annoyed looks while he tried to escape from the crime scene. Even the universe was against him because the smallest kitten had made his way into his bag and made an appearance while Professor Keith was trying to explain the economics crisis. Whole class turned into a chaos as the kitten destroyed the benches with his scratches and other students pushed each other to pet the little devil. This was the limit I guess because we were both sitting in front of the headmaster as he wrote us a 5 days suspension letter. We argued like crazy until he asked us to settle the matter between us right there right then and promise each other to let the whole school live peacefully. We got rid of the suspension letter disaster and as I started to walk out in the corridor he called my name and said he wanted to talk. "Let's call off the war and make a bet." "I'm all ears." "Whoever has the higher GPA in the semester end will get a fully paid one day trip from the loser." I rolled my eyes at him as I laughed just to realise he was serious. "Okay then it's a bet. Also the winner gets the most expensive drink on the Starbucks menu with all the toppings." I never liked coffee but it was a pretty good idea to make one's pocket hurt. He throwed a terrified look which quickly changed into a neutral expression before he nodded and walked away as I stared at his tall figure.

From that day we still competed but through out the process we actually grew closer by slowly clearing each other's doubt when we were the only ones in the library late at night to offering each other pens and snacks. I heard him listening to my favorite band and I couldn't help but throw questions at him out of the blue. I caught him off guard that day because he stuttered non stop and didn't look at my face for longer than a second. I didn't realize when we became friends but it turned out pretty good. So who's paying? Harry ofcourse. He left one hour earlier to get the most expensive drink on the menu and some other snacks before we go to a view point. I wanted it to be a road trip because that's the best you can do in a single day. I had a 4.0 GPA whereas his was 3.9. Not a big difference but I still won. I glance at the table clock and it's been 50 minutes since he left. I put my hair in a braid, curly hair are impossible to handle. I make my way down stairs and I see him with the mustang in the parking lot. I make my way over and without wasting a minute I open the door, sit and grin at him. It's just a 5 minute ride which I'm thankful for because driving at night at like 10 p.m. isn't my favorite thing. I get out of the car and as soon as I look ahead, I'm stunned. The most perfect view I have ever seen is in front of me as the cold breeze is all I can feel and hear. With tall trees on both the sides of the cliff, a lightened town below us and a starry night above us, I'm breathless. It's so perfect. I turn to look at Harry and he's already looking at me. He's holding everything and he gestures for me to sit on the hood. So I do. He takes a seat beside me with all types of snacks between us. He hands me the drink and I laugh at his same expression. "I don't even like coffee, I just wanted to let the loser lose some money too." He looks at me offended and shocked. "You are cruel. I don't like coffee too." "Well we need to drink it though. Let's share it hm?" I offer him picking up a red cup from the stash. He's hesitant but nods eventually taking the cup from my hand. "So how much?" "This coffee itself was 61 dollars" I gasp wide eyed. "You're kidding???" All I get is a shoulder shrug and a tight lipped smile as I laugh in shock. "Now I feel bad." "We both know you don't." He rolls his eyes as we both give it a try. "Okay it's not THAT bad you know." "Yeah because you got all the toppings and I got only coffee!" He accuses me even if I didn't attempt so. I squint my eyes then I just offer him my drink. "Oh- oh. Uhm. You sure?" He's blushing? Why? "Yeah I'm sure. Here. Give me yours." He smells great. He always does. "So how does it feel to lose?" I wiggle my eyebrows at him. "I let you win babe." I scoff at his response while he sips on his coffee making faces.

"Can I ask you something?" I take the opportunity to ask him something I have always thought of everytime we talked or everytime I saw him. "Go ahead." "Why were you always rude to me?" his shoulders stiffen all of a sudden, "since the day I joined this school, even in homeroom, when we had no classes together you didn't shake my hand when I offered. Everyone was kind to me but you just stared at me." I look at him as he stares ahead barely breathing. "Harry." He whips his head towards me. "Why?" He just looks me in the eyes as I do the same. "I liked you." My eyes widen and I quickly look away. "Wha-" "I saw you and I was so mesmerized by you. By your confidence, by your looks, by your voice. And I was competitive and rude three years ago." I can't believe my ears. This is not happening. It can't be. "I couldn't believe it and thought if I showed you I'm capable too, you will like me. But you didn't spare a single glance at me because of how I acted on the first day." I'm not able to comprehend the words as I listen to him. "But you wanted to be first? The bet too?" I ask him without looking at him. "It never was about the grades. I wanted you. So when an year after that we had all the classes together I did everything to just make you notice me. Even if it included all the pranks, the competition and fights." I'm too stunned to speak. As I turn my head, I look in his eyes and they carry guilt. Like he's trying to apologize. "I liked you too but never knew why you hated me. So I started hating you too." "You still like me?" He's quick to ask after my confession." I nod slightly in response. "Good because I still like you too." Before I get to open my mouth, he cradles my face with his big hand and pulls me towards him. Our foreheads touch as he stares right into my eyes. I can smell the scent of coffee in his breathe and his sandlewood smell. I glance towards his lips and I think he takes the hint as he wastes not even a second in wrapping his lips into mine. He's impatient and fast and he doesn't stop. Neither do I. Our tongues fight for the dominance and I give up easily because he's too good. I let him explore my mouth, I let him bite my lips, I let him devour me. I soon run out of breathe though because I pull away panting as he stares me with those eyes and I feel small under his gaze. I peck at his lips as I move the stash of food aside and come close. I hold on too his arm tightly and snuggle into him. We both look at the beauty in front of us as we feel each other's presence without uttering another word.

Reblogs, comments and likes are appreciated:)

#harry styles imagine #harry styles #harry styles cute #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles fic #1d memes #harry 1d #one direction #harry styles enemies to lovers

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racingliners · 1 year

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F1 2022 Re-watch: Round 3 - Australia

So yeah re some previous rambly posts, I subbed to F1 TV because I was kind of tuned out for the bulk of the 2022 season and bc it ended up being Seb’s last season in F1, I wanted to re-watch all of them in full. bc Seb caught covid (😭) I’m starting from Australia!

Since I’m mainly doing this for the laughs I have no idea what I’m doing avwvguhrgug I’ll probably put a lap number before any sarcastic comment for context.

Anyway, onwards! (under a read more bc this will get chatty)

Starting with the F1 intro. noice. (quietly bops)

As I am a religious Channel 4 viewer I just got major whiplash from Will Buxton doing commentary esblhrlbi.

I actually really like Albert Park, it’s not a bad track, dare I say it quite underrated.

Seb in 17th, the AMR22 really was a tractor 😭

Jolyon Palmer?!?!? I forgot he worked for F1 these days.

I’m also really not used to Aus not being the tradional season opener. Does not pass the vibe check.

[Start/Lap 1]: A clean turn 1???? sounds very fake.

A clean first sector???? sounds very fake

My god I can’t believe the grid all had their braincells on the first lap. Astounding.

[Lap 2]: nvm Sainz spun into the gravel. (I very vaguely remember this from C4 Highlights)

Unrelated, Zhou’s helmet design is really pretty.

[Lap 3]: Aston Martin Safety Car!! My beloved!! (The soft spot I now have for them after Seb’s two seasons with AM asdfghjkl)

[Lap 5]: Oh, pitting Lance to run the mandatory compound for 1 lap, then pitting again for hards. That’s clever. (Bernie Collins and Seb shared AM’s braincell lets be real).

I’ve also very suddenly realised that while I’m re-watching all of Seb’s races from 2022 bc it was his last season, there is no guarantee I will see much of Seb. I did not think this through.

I have once again slipped back into the routine of constantly checking for Seb’s name on the leaderboard. (pls don’t ask me how I’m going to cope this year bc I probably won’t)

I’m also humming the jaws theme everytime one car gets close to another.

Still not used to Will Buxton commentary eagheguh Palmer & Sam Collins are great though!!

[Lap 11]: Not Seb going through the gravel and dropping to plum last 😭

[Lap 12]: The McLarens following the Mercs. Merc on Merc powertrain violence

[Lap 13]: “Lots of unforced driver error” It’s because we had such a clean first lap that the racing gods demanded clownery as payment.

Unrelated but I said this to a mate the other day, but I miss glossy car liveries!! The matte ones are fine but shiny liveries just hit different. (Merc please go chrome for 2023 it would be v sexy)

[Lap 16]: Anyway Seb in P16 woo

Kevin mowing the lawn at turns 9 and 10

[Lap 18] Ah Leclerc leading Verstappen by almost 9 seconds. Remember when we had hope for the title fight? (Man watching the season long Ferrari clown show back is going to be fun, and by fun I mean devastating).

Speaking of car liveries, please have less black on the car this year McLaren. It just makes the car look unfinished. The accents of blue are so pretty though.

(I love how this is the most important thing on my mind rn eaugheuigh)

[Lap 22]: Seb thinking about an overtake!!! And the camera cut away!! why???

[Lap 24]: Seb DNF noooooo 😭😭😭😭

(I really should have looked up race results before starting this huh)

Well, zero joy sparked. But I have paid for F1 TV so we carry on through gritted teeth.

The AMR22 was a tractor, but damn it she was a beautiful tractor.

[Lap 25] “Keep getting unlucky with safety cars” Me 🤝 Lewis: Permanently traumatised by the 2021 Abu Dhabi Grand Prix

“The only time we will see an Aston Martin leading the race this weekend” Will Buxton I will fight you

[Lap 26]: THE FUCK Yuki, Mick do not frighten me like that.

I still keep checking for Seb on the leaderboard even though he’s out. Pain.

Back on livery watch: The blue and pink Alpine my beloved.

[Lap 30] oh we have passed half-distance. yay.

Lewis getting past Nando: ‘Cause I seee sparks flyyyyy’

[Lap 33] Bold of anyone to call Magnussen “Alonso’s rear gunner”

[Lap 35] Cuts to Leclerc in case we forgot about him

[Lap 36] “Is that Ferrari very slow or...?” “No that’s just how it looks” And yet Apollo gave them the gift of prophecy re the second half of the season 😭

Another livery watch update: Alpha Romeo v pretty.

[Lap 39]: Oop Verstappen DNF

Back to livery watch: Red Bull I’m begging you to go back to having a dark metallic blue instead of the matte navy. Keep the bright red tho.

The “Leclerc you’re my red flag” sign. Bestie that does not mean what you think it means.

[Lap 41]: The midfield once again saving the entertainment value of the race. I fully support Fernando’s rights to go a little bit feral.

Albert Park when the sun starts to go down >>>>>

(Yes a circuit’s aesthetic/surroundings completely plays into whether or not I like it. shh)

[Lap 45]: ...did AM tell Lance that he got a penalty or?????

[Lap 46]: How did I not notice Albon in P7??? pet power! (he still had to stop but whatevs)

[Lap 48] Albon on 46 lap old tyres 😳

I have now learned I’m watching the F1 TV feed and not the global feed (which I’m assuming is Sky F1???) so I’ll need to actually pay attention to what I’m clicking on for the next race 😅

[Lap 49]: It’s taken almost the whole race for Nando to start bitching on the radio iaefbhsebh. At least it feels like a race now (said with the upmost affection for my favourite menace to society)

[Lap 51]: There you go Nando, Pierre got past Lance

also is Alex going to pit at some point???

“I think don’t hit the one [car] painted the same as yours” F1 TV make Sam the lead commentator pls.

“The McLaren is a quick car” words I thought I would never hear

[Lap 54]: Charles 🤝 RBR Seb: Can I go for the fastest lap 👀

I also think it’s bs that you have to finish in the top 10 to get a point for the fastest lap. If you get the fastest lap, you should get the point. Don’t disrespect the non-points finishers like that @FIA

[Lap 56]: Three laps left and Albon still hasn’t pitted

Williams did you forget about your driver????

Shit I’m emotionally invested in Albon now

Oh man if his tyre fails I will not take it well

[Lap 57]: Don’t cut to Leclerc!!! I need to know if Albon has pitted yet!!!

There he is!!!

[Lap 58] “Are you still awake” Perez @ Williams pit wall

Oh thank fudge Albon pitted

[Lap 58/end] Charles & Ferrari taking a dominant win. doesn’t feel real tbh.

Albon got P10!!!! hell yeah!!!

Charles really did learn from Seb by going for fastest lap despite being told not to vvuuehrfgusrhguh

Rocky name drop!!! Yes I’m still fond of him shhh

Okay so that race was a bit of a slow burn, ty to the midfield for bringing the bulk of the entertainment. Overall 6 and a half front wings out of 10.

#F1 Liveblog #Australian GP 2022 edition #F1 Re watch #F1 2022 re watch #(going to us this tag as well since this is niche liveblogging)

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ohhoneato · 22 days

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Why is it so expensive to live alone?

I'm just looking for a 1-2 bed 1 bath house, townhouse or trailer/manufactured house for less than $700 per month closer to a bigger town than where i am now. I live in one of the states with the cheapest cost of living and am not wanting to move out of state.

Seriously, I told my brother I was having trouble finding a place to live and he said to have a kid. 1st: it takes 2 to tango and I'm single as the one avocado we all inevitably leave to rot because we forgot about it. 2nd: I don't want kids to begin with.

I was just recommended the trailer/manufactured homes, but it's almost impossible to find good priced ones online in the area I want to be in.

Seriously though, the last place my brother had was $500 for 2 bed 2 bath. They have a 3 bed 2 bath rn and if they didn't have their house where they didn't have to pay, cause they have 2 kids and unstable working conditions, they'd only be paying $600. In a different state than the first one, they went to Louisiana back to Texas. Only issue is, I don't want to live in the town they live in. Working Uber requires me to be in bigger cities and towns, closest one is Tyler or Fort Worth is also a good place to drive (not Dallas, Dallas sucks ass, just like Houston). So I'm looking near and around there. But everything is so fucking expensive, my full time job is Uber and I can barely even afford a garage unit that they didn't disclose was a garage unit in 2 other family's backyard. It was $775 per month. I can't afford that, not if I want to eat and rest once in a while.

And my deadline was the end of this month, but my earnings have been shit because things literally just keep happening to stop me from being able to go out, like I can't drive if it's flooding on the roads. But I was able to extend that deadline by a month by asking my parents if I can live with them again for a month then go from there while I look.

And the place needs to have at least a stove and a fridge in it, hopefully include water and trash in the rent, I'm not looking for anything fancy, but I do need room to move around in the kitchen.

AND ABSOLUTELY NO APARTMENTS, I WON'T DO THAT AGAIN.

If it helps, I made a max of $4000 a month and a minimum of $3000 a month. I'm honestly just a shit spending that doesn't know how to make herself budget. I have a $480 car payment every month (that I'm behind on, so a credit check won't be horrible, but it won't be great) and I've just left an apartment high and dry during the beginning of Covid. Never been evicted, but I've never had my name on any but one of the leases I've lived at. And that was the one we left, because they wouldn't work with us.

I'm being honest so people might be able to actually help me.

#housing #help i guess? help #i really need help with this and i know this is putting way too much trust out there #but i really need a place and i suck ass at looking #so i guess im recruiting tumblr #if ya'll can actually help #I'd appreciate so much #I'm really bad at finding actually helpful people to do this with #and any real estate agent is gonna want commission that i don't have

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donnabroadway · 1 year

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Soul Sisters

We open to a dimly lit non descript room in a non descript building in Washington, DC. There is a young woman, in her mid-late 30s and another woman of the same age. The first woman is blonde and wearing an oversized sweater, leggings, and over worn black ugg boots. The second woman, with dyed reddish brown hair is more polished and wearing a black suit with a white shirt, short manicured nails and red lipstick. They have been having a back and forth for 15 minutes.

"Take the money,"

Take the money?

Always, take the money. If anyone

I’m not for sale.

The second woman laughs.

You think that makes you special. The fact you're sitting here in over $50,000 worth of credit card debt, $75,000 in student loans, you're nearly 40 and you don't have a pot to piss in or a winder to throw it out of and you've been going on any Youtube or TikTok blogger you can find to try to embarrass this family and somehow you're the moral authority over anything. You can not be for sale but no one cares that you've stood your ground when you're homeless and no one cares. (she pulls out her phone) They're already starting to turn on you in the comments and ask questions. It's only a matter of time. Take the money. Start a new life, pay for your wedding, put a down payment on a house, start a charity. I don't care. Take the money. My offer expires in 24 hours.

No.

No?

No.

You're making a big mistake. (she starts to gather her papers and puts a pen in her purse using her well manicured finger)

You're the worst kind of woman.

Excuse me. I am trying to help you here. Sign the NDA and take the money but you want to give me lectures.

You are supposed to help me. Believe all women but they send you, a woman and not only that, a woman of color to give me hush money and silence me.

(She sits back down)

Would you prefer I was white?

I prefer you use your power for good and not to hurt women and silence them.

Three times.

What?

Three times. I was 12, 15, and 17. Three times. The amount of times my stepfather took me to the clinic to "take care of things" before I started to show because he didn't want my mother to find out because he never had a job and my mother, a brilliant, yet stupid woman, was supporting a grown man and three kids on a nurses salary while he blamed "the man" for never having a job, yet he could stay home and find the time to rape his stepdaughter. Three times I sat alone in the clinic getting his seed scrapped out of me and every single time some nurse lectured me on being smarter and how no man would want me if I kept getting pregnant and three times I went home and said nothing. And you know what my reward for getting raped consistently from the time I was 11 until that last time when I just didn't go home after he "forgot" to pick me up from the clinic because he forgot he had to get my mother from work because they could only afford one car because he wouldn't get a job. (silence) I certainly wasn't offered $2.5 million to be quiet. I got scar tissue and an incompetent cervix. You wanna know the irony. Three miscarriages all after 21 weeks. The sickness goes away, I can eat what I want, I finally start to get fat, start to show, and then the blood comes and I go into labor and I go home every single time without a baby. And you know what the doctor tells me? Go home and try again? Why? To have a fourth miscarriage. So, I'm here because surrogates are expensive and rich people pay a lot for cleaners and honestly, I don't care enough about overgrown frat boys, scorned mistresses, forgotten children, or disgraced councilmen trying to go to the press and I certainly don't care about your social justice warrior stance. We're not soul sisters. You're almost as stupid as my mother, who, by the way posts three times a year on Facebook on Mother's Day, Christmas, and my birthday about how you make so many sacrifices for your kids and they have the nerve to be weak and ungrateful and how her reward is in heaven because God knows her heart. And she's still with the same man, the one who has never had a job in the 25 years they've been married, liking her posts and giving her encouragement. You think you know me but you don't. Take the money, don't take the money. I don't care. Just know that once I walk out of here, I will still get paid and you will have nothing except your ill placed pride because Brinston's have an entire file on you dating from 2005 and are prepared to destroy your life in ways you could never imagine.

Okay.

Okay. what?

I'll sign it.

(she pushes a paper in front of her with a pen and the woman takes the pen and signs it in blue ink) the NDA (she points to a second line and the woman across the table signs it in black ink)

Is that it?

She gives her $50,000 in $100 bills and two plane tickets to Paris.

What’s this?

A down payment. Get out of here. Lay low for a few days. The rest of your money will be in your account in the morning. If you even as much answer an email from anyone except me or a representative from the Brinston's, the contents of this file will be released and every part of this contract, except the NDA will be voided and you will have 24 hours to return all the money or we will sue you. (She puts the paper in her folder) Have a nice day, Ms. Sullivan.

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sasquapossum · 1 year

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Had a bit of fun today, of the EV “range annoyance” kind.

My wife offered to drive her brother to the airport today, after he had escorted their mother back from visiting him in his Minnesota home over the holidays. Very nice getting together with the two of them the last couple of days, BTW. She decided to take the EV, because environment. I knew that the battery was only at 70 miles, but the original plan had been for her to drive him only to the outermost MBTA station so it would have been more than three times what she needed, so I didn’t feel a need to say anything. Off she went.

A while later, she calls. This is when I found out she had taken him all the way to the airport, and on the way back the car had flashed up a warning about low battery. She’s a bit more flappable than me at the best of times, and also not as familiar with EV charging issues, so she was thoroughly flapped already. She was at a Whole Foods, she couldn’t even tell me where at first, because that’s where the car had told her the nearest charging was. Unfortunately, it was the wrong type. This is why I’ve never relied on the car to find charging BTW. I already knew that it hadn’t updated maps in years, and it still warns about toll booths that got taken out nearly a decade ago, so I certainly didn’t trust it to be up to date in the ever-changing world of EV chargers.

Many phone calls and texts ensued, having to do with port types and payment options. At some point she mentioned that her phone was almost dead. She eventually moved to another location a mile away where they supposedly had the right kind of fast-charging ports. I started to take her car to where she was, but only got down to the bottom of the driveway when she called and seemed confident that she’d figured things out enough for it to be unnecessary. I went back to doing other things, until too long had gone by without an update, so then I really did head out in her car.

Half an hour later, I got there. It turns out that the only charging ports were on the seventh floor of the parking structure we were in, and were only slow level 2 (instead of the first-floor fast chargers that PlugShare thought should be there). So she drove her car home, while I sat for an hour-plus charging the EV enough to have a decent buffer for the trip home. No big deal, actually; I just sat and read a few chapters of my book. Finally, it was done and I headed out ... but the story doesn’t end.

Fuck Google. I had told Maps to take the shorter, more fuel efficient route (MA route 2). As I was leaving the parking structure, it popped up to tell me it had found a faster route (I-90 and I-95). Since that route was also longer and less fuel efficient, I declined. I clearly remember pressing the “No, thanks” button. Nonetheless, at some point it silently switched me to the I-90/95 route anyway. Bad Google. Bad, bad! That’s not only inconsiderate, but could actually be dangerous under these kinds of circumstances. As it turns out I got home without issue, but it still makes me pretty mad.

Since I don’t expect to run the battery down this far ever again, here’s a picture of what my dash looked like right after I pulled into the garage.

3% is 8 miles, but the latter number was flashing and I forgot to check the picture before I plugged the car in so oh well. Also, “Wake Up” is just the name of the song I was listening to, not one of those driver-alertness things. All’s well that ends well, I guess, but three hours of chaos and $30 in downtown parking fees was not something I really welcomed today.

#electric vehicles #range anxiety #range annoyance #long post

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ocean-anchored · 1 year

Text

Dear future self... 2022 Goal Recap

I can’t believe it’s another year gone. I spent last night re-reading my posts from 2022 and as much as I recall a lot of the year, there was some points in the earlier year that I had forgotten about. My hair stylist today asked me what my New Years resolutions were but I was stumped. I hadn’t really thought of it this time around. I guess I get caught up thinking that they have to be these elaborate ideas & goals, forgetting that it’s okay to keep things small & simple. I realized in one of my early posts of 2022 that I had written a handful of things that I wanted to do & achieve that year, almost forgetting what I had written but I realized that I actually had done a lot of them. Let’s recap of things I had hoped: - To be the happiest point in my life - I always find this sentence interesting as I feel like I think I could always be happier or reflect on moments that may have been the happiest moment, forgetting that it’s a whole. I could say though that at this moment right now, I probably am the happiest I’ve been. - To further my career/position & start a side hustle - Definitely achieved that, majority of the year I had a part time evening job on top of my career which turned out to flip, so I still technically have a “side hustle” if you want to call it that being my old original job but I do believe I’ve furthered myself by making this career change. - Out of LOC debt & better with saving - I’d like to say I did achieve this, I do still have some money on it that I put on only a few months ago but it was at $0 for most of the year. I wouldn’t say I’m in debt (outside of my car) as I could pay it off fully but I’ve been making payments instead to help my credit. - Hit fitness goals & being confident in my body - I feel like this is a forever goal honestly. I don’t even think I thought of what that fitness goal was other than to just feel happy with my body. Let’s say we’re still working on that one. -More hikes & furthering my footprint of where I’ve been - This one I forgot about but it excited me after I read it. I went on a lot of hikes in the beginning when I was seeing Nate, which also furthered my footprint by exploring all of Cranbrook and Kimberley. I did a lot of walks and exploring of NFLD this summer, I did a few mountain hikes myself & explored Vancouver a lot. - Find a core group of girl friends - Unfortunately still working on this. I did however find a solid girl friend but haven’t found that core group yet. - Be at Grayson’s firsts - I feel like I was able to experience majority of his firsts this year. - Expand my baking - Also feel like i did this, I feel like I’ve almost mastered cinnamon buns, I baked a lot of variety of things this year including out of my comfort zone baking Gray’s first birthday cake. - Heal from the trauma - I really do feel like I healed so much this year. There’s still a few times that I might be triggered or emotion arises but I do feel like I’ve gotten through and past the feeling of shame of being divorced. I’m sure it will come up again over time in different situations but overall I’ve healed a hell of a lot. - Have a good start to a savings account - This was one of my actual written goals & it was wanting to have $5k of savings which I’ve done & am pretty proud of. As much as I feel like this was kind of an easy one being such a small amount when someone works two jobs, but not only did I achieve that but I’ve lived pretty comfortably this year not thinking about money. Not to say that I’ve gone & blown it but I’ve done a couple trips, maintained a relationship which is always quiet costly, moved & have spent money on myself in different ways so I feel good about that. -Stay true to myself - I actually feel like I did do this. There may have been times that I’ve lost myself a little in situations, but overall I believe I’ve stayed true to my values & beliefs. I turned down situations that weren’t who I was and said no to things that didn’t align or feel right. -Strengthen my relationship with God - This one has sadly been my biggest let down being the most important. I mean yes I did continue my relationship with God throughout the year but there were many times and months that went by that I didn’t pursue further or strengthen, it was more just the bare minimum to continue to tell myself that at least I was still in connection.

#dear future self #2022 recap #goals #personal growth #personal update

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asset35-maya · 3 years

Note

I am sleepy but I gotta make a request before the busy tomorrow so 2 things on my mind! Sleepy and the 'oh my god they were roomates' vine xD with any characters and aus I love everything you write anyways xD Happy timezones and best vibes your way >^<!! 💖💞💕💕

Oh my god, they were roommates…

“The rental market in Detroit is absolute shit! How dare these bloodsuckers charge such high rates for the most under-developed properties! This city’s going to the dogs!”

“Uh-huh.”

“You have to pay your own weight in gold just to live in a shoebox for a year. Nonsense!”

“Uh…”

“Are you even listening to me, Tina!

Tina?

Goddamnit Tina!”

Gavin thumped his fist on her desk, but Tina’s eyes barely flicked up from her phone.

“Oh my god, you sound like my grandpa…”

Gavin turned red and his brain buzzed with a thousand colourful retorts. He was just about to pick one when Tina stopped scrolling and turned her phone screen towards him.

CYBERSCALIA @ NEW JERICHO

The suburban paradise for executive androids and humans alike. Located 25 minutes drive from downtown Detroit, with a full amenities.

Gavin’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. He balked at her.

“You’re joking? How could I possibly…?”

“Get with the times, boomer…”

Tina lazily skimmed her thumb over the screen. The webpage promised plenty of greenery, good infrastructure and modest but spacious rooms. The extremely reasonable price tag was Gavin’s dream come true. He’d spent weeks apartment hunting in the wake of an early lease termination by his cantankerous landlord. Gavin knew he’d never find a better deal.

“Shit, this is so good, T! Why the phck does it have to be in that- that place!”

His friend arched a sceptical eyebrow.

“What place?”

“The Tincan ghetto!”

Tina smacked him on the arm. None too gently.

“It’s subsided public housing located in an android-friendly estate… because they’re the ones that need it most right now. And frankly, you seem to be in just as much need, so you should really get off that high horse.”

“Fine, fine. You’re right. I should seriously consider this place, even if my neighbours are gonna have more in common with my car than me. But damn, it seems a little too good to be true. There’s probably some fine print, hidden costs that’ll come out later.”

“Hmm… let’s see…”

Tina scrolled further and then let out a half-laugh. She held her phone up again.

“Nothing shady about the rates, but there is something you should know…”

At the risk of being called old again, Gavin squinted at the screen and read aloud.

“Bearing in mind the founding principles of New Jericho, all human occupants may only apply for tenancy in co-habitation with at least one android citizen of the United States of- JESUS PHCKING CHRIST! Absolutely not! I am not going to live with a plastic prick!”

Gavin had to get through half a bottle of wine before he could bear to scroll through the rental listings. Unlike other humans who had happily moved into New Jericho with their android friends or partners, he had to find an android who was also looking for a flatmate.

Some listings came from ardent supporters of Markus. These were the androids who wanted to ease the post-revolution transition by reaching out to humans. Some listings were put up by the android equivalent of frat boys. These individuals were clearly looking for someone on the fringes of human society, someone who could show them a good (if not illegal) time.

Other posts came from eccentric androids who craved company but had likely been rejected by their own kind. Gavin felt a strange twisting sensation, almost like pity, when he came across a post written entirely in third person by someone called Ralph.

He had almost given up hope when he came across a simple little listing for a two bedroom apartment in Cyberscalia.

RK900 #313 248 317 - 87: Seeking a neat, self-sufficient co-renter. Human or android, no preference. I spend most of my time working and will be out of your way for the better part of the day. I only ask for silence during my nighttime stasis cycles, timely payment of dues and upkeep of cleanliness.

Gavin sighed in relief.

“Your room is the first door on the left, mine is the second. The bathroom, laundry and kitchenette are shared, as is the living room. I scarcely find use for the latter, so you need not worry about my intruding on any of your social gatherings, or vice versa. As long as you adhere to the terms of the agreement, our paths will not cross much.”

The tall, stiff-necked android dropped a set of keys, both mechanical and digital, into Gavin’s open palm.

“Er thanks.. RK… sorry I forgot your full model number…”

“You may call me Nines. Although, I’d rather you didn’t call me much of anything. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

In a swish of black fabric, the android turned on his heel and disappeared into his room. Two rapid clicks indicated the shutting and locking of his door.

Gavin sighed and looked around the open-plan living room. It was nothing fancy, but it was far beyond any of the other properties he’d viewed in weeks of unsuccessful house-hunting.

He sat down on the simple black couch with a huff and contemplated his situation. He’d ended up where he’d truly never expected to go, but objectively speaking, things were good… barring the high-handed manner of his robot flatmate, but who gave a shit about that.

He pulled out his phone to text Tina his thanks.

“I can’t! I refuse to! It is a violation of my personal ethics and I will simply not take this assignment any further. Good day to you sir!”

Gavin nearly dropped his bowl of cereal one morning when his roommate burst out of his door and rushed into the open balcony.

He hadn’t seen Nines in days, which was perfectly normal. The android came and went at odd hours and made hardly any noise. It was almost like living alone. The only reminder of Nines’ presence was the sight of several dark shirts and trousers regularly hung out to dry on the rack above the washing machine.

Gavin set his bowl down and watched the android tightly grip the bars of the railing and take several unnecessary breaths to calm down. He’d seen deviant colleagues express emotion many times before, but this was the first time he witnessed such a potent mixture of rage and sorrow from a synthetic being.

Out of empathy, but mostly curiosity, Gavin approached cautiously.

“Hey Nines… is everything alright…?”

There was no response for several moments. Then Nines turned around with a grimace and hands held upwards in a placating gesture.

“I apologise for the disturbance. It was hypocritical of me to disrupt the very peace and quiet I demand of you.”

“Uh… no worries…? Are you okay?”

There was a flash of steel blue eyes.

Gavin kicked himself mentally as he realised too late that he’d broached uncharted territory. Their interactions didn’t extend beyond curt nods on the rare occasion they found each other in the same space. It was almost as if Nines engineered the lack of contact, which wouldn’t surprise Gavin at all if it were the case.

“I’m fine. I merely experienced some frustration with my work.”

Perhaps it was boredom, perhaps it was his usual lack of self-preservative instinct… Gavin threw caution to the winds.

“What do you actually do?”

Nines’ expression remained stoic but his LED went through a spectacular series of colours and flashes. His next words were reluctant.

“I’m a private investigator.”

“Oh shit! I’m actually a cop.”

Gavin pointed dumbly at himself and then let his hand drop when he saw absolutely no surprise cross the android’s face.

“I know. That’s why I let you stay with me.”

“For safety?”

“Certainly not for your fashion sense.”

“Wow okay, I didn’t think I’d be much protection for a big scary droid like you.”

Nines hummed dismissively and started to move out of the balcony, body language fully indicating the end of the conversation.

Unable to help himself for some strange reason, Gavin blurted out another ill-advised question.

“What pissed you off so much?”

Nines paused halfway through side-stepping the human. A thrill went through Gavin at the shards of ice he observed for the first time up close in Nines’ irises.

“If I tell you, will you promise to stop asking pointless questions?”

Gavin nodded earnestly, and frankly… rather foolishly.

“I helped a client gather evidence to initiate divorce proceedings on the grounds of infidelity. I provided ample photo and video evidence for his lawyers to work with. Now they want me to keep following the spouse to capture more details that could gear any future settlement in his favour.”

“So what’s your problem?”

“They’re offering me an incredible amount of cash to follow her 24/7. To stake out her workplace, her gym, her parent’s home. They want me to crouch under the window of the bedroom where her children sleep. I can do a lot of things, but not that. It’s deeply insulting that they even asked. That’s why I was so… pissed.”

Nines slipped past and was nearly back to his bedroom when Gavin spoke.

“I respect that.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“I know, but for real though, I think ethics are important in our line of work. Not just because of we need morals or a sense of right or wrong blablabla, but because we need… clarity.”

Silence floated through the hallway as Nines paused with a hand on his doorframe.

“Clarity?”

“Yeah, like a sense of direction. We don’t just take cases right-left-centre because they make us money. I mean, we could, and people do… but they never become specialists or experts of any kind. You gotta strategise if you want a career. Ethics helps with that. I think…”

Gavin wasn’t sure what made him say any of that. He was neither one for small talk, nor a man of many words… but something about Nines prompted that unusual level of introspective discourse.

“Sorry that was weird. Never mind.”

“That was actually… very astute.”

Their eyes met and Gavin could’ve sworn he saw the hint of a smile.

“It’s good to see that not all humans are as one-dimensional as I thought.”

The door clicked shut, but there was no locking sound.

Since the morning of Nines’ uncharacteristic outburst, the frequency of their encounters in the common areas of the apartment increased. Wordless nods became hellos, and hellos eventually became full sentences.

Not that he’d admit it, Gavin actually looked forward to enquiring about the android’s day and the cases he was working on. It was utterly fascinating to hear about legal investigations without the constraints of police procedure.

For his part, Nines would share as much as he had the patience to, before disappearing into the confines of his room. Though the time he spent outside steadily increased every day.

Another morning, while Gavin was making his coffee, Nines emerged from his room, still in his pyjamas and looking as livid as he had the time before. Gavin had never seen him in anything but crisply ironed businesswear. Before he could voice any concern, Nines stiffly asked Gavin to keep a lookout for a homicide suspect.

He nodded and immediately reached for his phone to text the sergeant on duty at his station. By midday, there was an arrest.

That evening, when Gavin settled in front of the TV with his usual glass of wine, he heard the familiar sound of Nines’ door opening. The couch dipped beside him.

“Thank you.”

“Just did my job. I should thank you for the tip.”

“Hmm.”

Gavin chanced a glance at his roommate, and found him looking right back.

“What?”

“Nothing… I just had the realisation that much of my work is impotent without the authority and means to take any kind of action.”

The sitcom began to play and Gavin thumbed the remote to reduce the volume.

“Takes all kinds to keep the streets clean. PIs can do things cops can’t. We rely on guys like you for intel all the time, you know.”

“I know.”

No words were exchanged for a while thereafter. Gavin found himself unable to focus on the TV show with all the brooding energy emanating from his right.

“If you feel like being a private eye doesn’t make enough of a difference, then why didn’t you… um… you know…”

“Join law enforcement?”

“Yup.”

“Plenty of my fellow androids have done so. I know for a fact that my predecessor model chose to remain there. You might know him.”

“Connor? Yes. Very annoying.”

“He is, isn’t he?”

“Totally. But why didn’t you join too? You’d be brilliant on the Force.”

“My skillset is certainly well-suited, but I didn’t want to become another puppet of the state.”

Gavin really didn’t know what to say to that. He nodded uncertainly and looked back at the television. He wasn’t sure why Nines was suddenly this social.

“What are you… watching?”

Androids could scan and detect just about anything in the world, so there had to be something else to the question. Gavin, strangely, was happy to oblige.

Nines made an appearance every evening, without fail. He would sit through the TV shows if they were of interest, or he would bring his case material and notes to the coffee table to work in silence beside Gavin.

Sometimes Gavin liked to work on jigsaw puzzles on the dining table. Nines would sit beside him, pretending to read a paperback novel, but actually scanning the puzzle and passing the right pieces over from time to time.

Against all odds, an evening ritual and a tentative friendship developed. It was simple, but it was warm. Comfortable. Like nothing Gavin had ever had before, even with humans.

He awoke one morning with a slight crick in his neck but the feeling of being very well-rested.

His eyes flickered open and fell upon the window. Familiar greenery came into view… but wait… had everything slightly shifted to the left? And was that the New Jericho Capitol building? He couldn’t see that from his room! There was a tree in the way! A tree that was now a few feet away from where it used to be.

Gavin sat up in alarm as he realised that he was not in his own bed. His heart flew into his throat as Nines walked through the open doorway. Shirtless and carrying a mug of blue liquid.

“Oh good, you’re up.”

“Wha-what happened!?”

Nines frowned and sat down on the edge of the bed. He set the mug on the floor and pulled on a plain black t-shirt.

“You passed out on the couch last night. I think you finished a whole bottle waiting up for me? Sorry, I was out working later than expected.”

Gavin looked down and sighed in relief as he found all his clothes still on him.

“I didn’t want you to injure yourself sleeping at an odd angle so I brought you here. Your door was locked.”

“You could’ve easily opened it.”

“Yes, but that would’ve been an invasion of privacy. I reserve that for working hours alone.”

Gavin looked deep into the sparkling blue eyes and as usual found no trace of humour.

“Thanks…”

“Don’t mention it. Now get out. You’re ruining my silk sheets.”

Against his best efforts, Gavin could not keep the thought of being carried to bed and tucked in safely out of his mind. How many years had it been? Since something like that had been even remotely possible for him?

He knew that Nines was just being kind in his own pragmatic little way… but Gavin found that he wouldn’t mind the prospect of waking up in the android’s bed in a wildly different context.

He realised he had it bad when Tina caught him smiling to himself at work one day.

“Why so happy?”

“Oh… nothing. Just remembered something my roommate did… He’s a… funny guy.”

“Huh. Well, look at you getting along so well with androids.”

“Android. Singular. Just him.”

“Wowwww… he sounds special.”

“Who did this?”

“Gavin, the damage is merely superficial-”

“Who phcking did this??!”

He reached forward and gingerly touched Nines’ split cheek. His synth skin was smeared with blue blood and glitching in and out. Nines winced at the contact.

“Shit, sorry. That must hurt like a bitch.”

“Androids do not feel pain.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m merely experiencing a surge in sensory input wherever my chassis is exposed. I’m fine.”

“Shut up and give me your first aid kit or whatever toolbox equivalent you tincans have.”

A shade of embarrassment appeared over the android’s features.

“I… actually don’t have one. I didn’t think I’d ever need it.”

“Didn’t think anyone could kick your ass, huh?”

“No… I didn’t think anyone would ever spot my hiding place.”

“Huh. How’d that happen?”

Nines’ eyes dipped, but as always, he answered the question.

“I was… distracted.”

Something in the air solidified and both of them felt it. Gavin cleared his throat and slapped his knees like an old man about to stand up.

“Right. Let me go check if the neighbours have anything that might help with your face.”

“So who’s this dapper young gent you’ve brought to the party, Gavin?”

“Er… he’s my uh… roommate.”

Captain Fowler nodded and winked.

“That’s what they called it in my day too.”

Nines shifted beside Gavin and cleared his throat.

“He’s a PI. But I think he’s wasting his talent taking pictures of cheating spouses. He’s quite interested in police work. Maybe we could get him to assist on a couple cases now and then?”

Fowler put down his drink and extended a warm hand to Nines.

“Oh thank RA9!”

Nines came running to the cluster of police cars and enveloped him in a giant hug. Gavin laughed as he patted him weakly on the back.

“Watch the ribs, big guy.”

“I was so worried.”

“Why? Your info was good. No chance of error.”

“I meant about you.”

Gavin pulled back and regarded Nines with confusion. The flashing red and blue lights of the cars made it hard to read his LED.

“Why?”

“I can’t believe you have to ask.”

The android pulled him into a bruising kiss. The officers standing nearby broke into wolf-whistles and applause.

“What the-”

“Oh I take full credit for that, sir.”

Fowler glanced at Tina.

“The case, Chen?”

“Oh of course. I solved the whole thing. But I mean that specifically.”

She waved a hand in Gavin and Nines’ direction. The two held each other tightly and seemed unlikely to come up for air anytime soon.

“Like I helped Gav find an affordable place in New Jericho and then he met this handsome investigator droid and they were roommates.”

“Oh my god, they were roommates…”

“Yeah legit.”

\\\

Thanks so much for the request @jude-shotto

This ended up being a lot longer than expected, but I couldn’t help it. Your prompt just took me on a whole journeyyyy <3

#maya bday ask event #reed900 #rk900 #gavin reed #dbh gavin #dbh nines #gavin900 #gavin x nines #gavin x rk900 #dbh fanfic #dbh rk900 #dbh #dbh writing #my writing

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dragon-of-dreams · 3 years

Text

A Debt to pay

My Masterlist

Pairing: dark!mafia!Bucky x Reader

Warnings: noncon; breading kink; threats, murder, readers parents are dead, reader getting hit across the face, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT! Seariously, this is some really dark shit with some astonishingly soft sx... No idea how that happened... 18+!!!

No mentions of y/n, and reader is kinda an off because she has a back-story but no physical descriptors are used.

Summary: Your dad dies unexpectedly and you take over running the family cafè. The costs for your daddy’s funeral bring the head of the Barnes family to your doorstep as you struggle to keep up with the payments for a loan you had no idea your dad had taken out with them. You get “offered” an alternative method of payment.

a/n: this was a request by the lovely @oneoftheprettynerds

I hope I did it justice! Thank you for being the most patient person in the world, when Covid, life, exams, life and so on and so forth got in the way of your wish!

Prompt: Can I please get a dark mafia bucky or peter with noncon and breeding kink? With a side of people hitting on reader

Wordcount: 2,800

In all seriousness, you had to consider yourself lucky. Most people in this small city had it worse than you. Most didn’t have their own business, certainly not at your age, and most would never have enough money to even dream about that. Your town had the habit of sucking money out of people faster than they could make it and as of late that was also the case for you.

After your dad had died unexpectedly in a car crash, money had been tight, really tight. You’d never known how fucking expensive funerals were and his drained all the savings you had, just before you’d managed to scrambled together enough for a community college education in business. Now you were left an orphan in your early twenties running a café on only the knowledge you’d learnt from your dad with no prospects of an education. Now you were as stuck as everybody else in town.

What made matters even worse was the bill you’d gotten two weeks after the funeral. A bill from the one company in town nobody wanted one from. Rich men running successful businesses on the backs of the honest town’s people by draining their money. The mafia. Sharks in suits.

According to the bill your dad had borrowed money from them 10 years ago. Your best guess was that he had needed it for your mother’s funeral and had never told you. Be that how it may, you didn’t know how to pay that bill. So you asked for time and put in extra hours, keeping the café open til late at night.

You hated the extra hours. Not only because you got less sleep and had to work so much more and couldn’t afford to hire more employees but also because the later it got the more aggressively people hit on you.

You hated them. All those men coming in once the sun set, calling you their sweetheart like you were property and grabbing at you and you having to smile and flirt because you needed their tips. Desperately. And yet it seemed to make no difference. There was just no money to be made in this town.

Bucky Barnes, the head of the Romanov family had given you two months to come up with the next payment, and you knew that you’d end up dead in a ditch with them ceasing your café if you didn’t make it.

So you smiled and joked with the moms coming in in the mornings and afternoons and flirted and swayed for their husbands at night. When you were in your little apartment above the café after you finally closed you usually cried yourself to sleep. And all throughout the day you would see him. See Bucky fucking Barnes watching you. At first you thought you were imagining it, but he was driving past your café in way too regular intevals, and would even occasionally take up one of your tables. You always sent other staff to serve him, you couldn’t bare to go to him, but his cold blue eyes never left you.

Over those two month it became abundantly clear that you would never manage to come up with $2,000. And when one of Bucky’s men came in on the Wednesday before the Friday the payment was due, you thought of the 1,200 bucks you’d managed and wanted to cry.

You knew the man, you’d gone to school with his younger brother Peter who had been a royal pain in your ass, having provided a glimpse of the harassment by the men you now faced every evening. Still you smiled at him: “Steve, hi, what can I get you?” ignoring that you had already flipped your sign to closed and where moping the floors.

“Hi y/n, a coffee would be great, if you still got some” Steve answered while inspecting your café like he already owned the place.

“Sure thing!” You tried to sound chipper, but the strain in you voice was audible, as you went behind the counter and got the machine going.

“Sugar? Milk?” you asked, with your back turned to Steve, hoping to draw out the inevitable.

“Just sugar, thanks.” Steve sounded gruff and distant and you knew you’d lost. He probably already knew that you wouldn’t be able to pay. He had accompanied Bucky a bunch of times, never ordered anything, just watched and listened, as Bucky drank or ate. The men had attracted stares. Not only because they were mafia, but because for personified devils, they sure looked like gods.

As you set his coffee before him he asked: “So what can I tell my boss to expect on Friday?” You stared at Steve in his perfectly tailored suit in harsh contrast to the homey but ultimately grimy café surrounding him as you decided on what to say. He looked amazing, and you hated him for it.

Steve raised an eyebrow at you. He was getting impatient. “I… I have a little over half.” You muttered and looked down at your hands, twisted tightly together. “My daddy’s funeral cost so much money, and I” you were interrupted by Steve’s fist hitting the countertop, making you flinch. His rage was pouring out of him so suddenly, taking over everything else. He seethed: “Safe your excuses, little girl. Just make sure to get the money. Bucky isn’t as lenient as I am.” With that, Steve got up from the bar, drained his coffee in one long gulp and left without giving you the chance to beg. You would have. You would do anything now if it meant saving your life. ‘Lenient’, you thought. How was any of this lenient?

On Friday morning, you didn’t want to get up, much less open the café, but you did both. You put a notice outside that you would close earlier tonight, so Barnes and his henchmen wouldn’t scare off your customers and then you went to work.

The entire day felt like molasses. Time didn’t move at all, it left you fidgety and nervous. You screwed up more orders than you were willing to admit and then suddenly time jumped and it was 6 p.m. and the sun was setting and you’d closed the café down, pulled all curtains closed except for the front door and were sitting there, waiting. What for, you didn’t know.

At 6:30 a black limousine came to a stop before your café and Barnes and Peter got out. Which you decided was a good sign. Surley if they were to kill you, they would’ve brought some muscle, not lanky Peter… Bucky Barnes wouldn’t get his hands dirty with you, would he? Or was that what Peter was for? Did he still have to prove himself in the company?

As Bucky entered you wished it would just end now. To your sheer horror, Peter stayed outside, blocking the door, leaving you all alone with the man you feared most in this world. He looked just like everytime he’d previously entered your café. His suit fit perfectly and you could see the muscle beneath. He was astonishingly beautiful. If he only were so on the inside as well, you mused.

“Hi sweetheart,” Bucky drawled as he approached you, “Steve told me you don’t have my money.” You shrunk in on yourself, but nodded, as Bucky came to tower over you.

“That’s not good, angel, not at all. Why don’t you come out from behind the counter and we sit down and talk about it, huh?”

All you could do was nod. “What happened? Cat got your tongue?” Bucky teased as he grabbed you by the elbow and led you to a boot in the corner of the café, way out of view from the front door. His touch was startingly kind. You had prepared for pain, but were met with kind support. Your brow furrowed.

“I…” You looked up at him. “I g got $1,300. I know that’s not enough, but”

“Shh.” Bucky murmured and pushed you down onto the bench, took of his suit jacket, hung it carefully over a nearby chair and then caged you in by sitting at your side. You were trapped and you were shaking with fear.

Bucky was so much taller than you and even through his perfectly tailored black dressshirt you could see his muscles bulging. You couldn’t decide weather you wanted to start sobbing into his chest or punch him in the stomach. “Steve already told me all about that, angel, don’t worry, I already came up with a new payment plan.”

“You’re not mad?” you question, to terrified to be hopeful.

“Well, I am not thrilled, but I’ve always had a softspot for this place. My pa used to take me when I was little. I watched you grow up, you know?”

Hope bloomed like desert rose in your heart. He knew you! He had a connection to you! That surely meant he wouldn’t kill you. You’d figure out the money. Suddenly you were certain that you could do it.

“really? That’s – I never knew…” Your voice was fluttering with hope.

“Well, it’s a small town.” Bucky’s voice was calm and soothing. You almost forgot that you were squished between him and the wall.

“And with me seeing you grow up, and seeing all the other women in town I decided that you would give me an heir to take here. To watch people with, so he too could choose his wife. An heir for me and forgiveness for your debt and a happy home life for you.” Your world stopped spinning. It screeched to a halt.

“What? No, Bucky, I…” Bucky wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulled you close. The arm was tight across you back and stole your words from you as fear spread from every spot he touched throughout your entire body.

“You’re a hard worker, you have a drive for better and higher things. I like that. It’ll make you a diligant mother, you know angel? And that is what I need. A good mother to the boy who will inherit this town, don’t you agree?”

You sit there frozen, unable to reply. Your brain is going a thousand miles an hour trying to find a way, any way, to get away, but before you can do anything Bucky grabs your right hand and presses it to his crotch. He’s hard. The calm demeanour falls off him suddenly as he growls: “Here is how this will go, angel,” he starts to move your hand up and down his crotch, “I will let go of your hand and you will undo my pants and get me ready and then I will have that little pussy of yours on this table. I mean it ain’t romantic, but once you are my little wife I’ll make up for that, sweetheart.”

You swallow hard, press your eyes closed and feel him move his hand over the fine cotton of his suit and his hard length underneath, then you force yourself to nod. It’s a jerking, hurtful motion, but Bucky released you hand, as he leans back on the bench, spreading his legs, opening himself up to you.

You want to thrash out, but instead you shaking hands wander to his belt. “Go on, now. we ain’t got all night, darling.” You are tearing up, but do as you’re told. You lean slightly over him and undo his belt first, then his pants. His cock strains against his boxer briefs and you gulp. Bucky lifts his hips and you push his pants and underwear down.

His cock is beautiful. Long and thick and veined and you can’t help but press your thighs together at the sight. Bucky notices and smirks down at you. “Now that’s a good girl. Keep it up and I make sure you enjoy yourself!” he whispers in your ear as he guides your hands to his dick.

As you jerk him, you realize that you underestimated his size. Your fucked. Literally. There is no way you’re gonna enjoy this. Bucky shoves his left hand up your skirt suddenly and you freeze until he clears his throat and startles you back into action, while his fingers start exloring your sex.

“You know,” Bucky explains, “I find it helps ladies to go down on a guy before actually fucking. Gets them nice and ready, you know?” One of his fingers slides into your tight chanel, “But with you it seems we don’t need that. The sight of my cock alone made you cream. I knew there was something special about you!” He grins and removes his hand. “We might still have to work on your handjob skills though…” he muses, grips your hand and removes it form his dick, as he gets up.

You shrink back but he pulls you out after him. Finally, blessedly, your panic response sets in any you try to struggle, but Bucky’s hold on your arm tightens painfully and his left hand hits you across the face before you even see it coming and it makes your world spin. “Stop it, now!” Bucky barks at you and you freeze. Your feeble attempts forgotten as Bucky lifts you onto the table and rips your panties off. You start sobbing as he bends your right leg to your shoulder and situates himself.

“Sssh,” he cooes at you softly, “I’ll make it better, baby, just one moment.” His suddenly warm voice lulls you into a false sense of security as you stare into his deep blue eyes. They are bewitching you, and you only feel him push in when it’s too late.

He sheethes himself in one agonizingly long stroke. The pain breaks you out of your reverie, you arch your back and groan. It hurts! It hurts so much, and yet you want more, so much more. “Bucky!” you plead, you sob, you whine and once more there it is, the calm voice of the devil now owning your life, rolling in like the tide washing over you, calming you. “I know my sweet pet, I know, just relax now. Just breathe.” And you do. You can’t help yourself.

Bucky lets out a pained moan as you settle around him, and once your clenched eyes flutter back open, once your back comes back down from its painful arch, the god above you starts to move. Every drag and push is better than the last. He hits home every time. His dick lights up a pathway to your pleasure, with every sharp, hard, relentlessy painful thrust, in time with his pubic hair grinding against your clit. A particularly hard thrust shifts his cock so it hits your cervix and you scream with pain and pleasure. Your arms reach up, your hands burying themselves in his thick hair as Bucky leans in closer to you, bending you in half on that table, and nuzzles at your neck as he starts to hammer into you. Every thrust is pure bliss. You want to feel ashamed, you want to push him away, but all you can feel is the drag and glide of his cock, his pelvis against your clit, his tip hitting your cervix. You are on fire and the coil in your core is ready to explode. The intensity of Bucky’s thrusts never wavers, even as you feel him swell even further as his balls draw up and that tiny change breaks you, your orgasm explodes and you cry out in ecstatic pleasure, just as Bucky falters and shoots his cum in thick long strokes into you. His warmth joing yours as he lazily pumps to stop within you.

You only come back to yourself as Bucky pulls out slowly and you can feel your combined, cooling spend trickle down your legs. He eases your leg back down and kisses you softly as you start crying. “Ssh, darling, you’re alright. You’re done. Your debt is paid and you’ll be my wife in no time, the mother to my heir. You did so good, angel!” He coos sweet nothing at you until you can control your crying enough to speak.

“Bucky, I’m not on anything! What if it really takes?” you whimper, emerging from the fantasy he built up in your head.

“That is rather the point!” He snaps harshly. The calm voice gone as quickly as it emerged. You shiver as you realize the extent of what he said before. He really meant it all… Bucky pulls up his pants. “Pack up your things, lovely, tomorrow I’ll pick you up and you are moving in with me, so I can keep an eye on you!” With that Bucky pulls on his suit jacket and heads for the door, as you struggle to sit up, shaking and crying.

At the door Bucky looks back at you, his voice a lot calmer again: “I’m real happy about our new business arrangement as it ensures you will be staying with me, little girl. If only your daddy would have agreed to let me have you, his car wouldn’t have had to end up wrapped around a tree so your little college fund would go away. Sleep tight now, Mama, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

#dark!Bucky Barnes #dark Bucky #dark!Bucky #Bucky x reader #dark!Bucky x reader #marvel #fanfiction #fic #fanfic #prompt #captain america #the winter soldier #cafe au

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blackmissfrizzle · 4 years

Text

I’ll Take Your Man(s)

Characters: Miguel Galindo x black!reader, Ezekiel Reyes x black!reader

Summary: Based on this thread about the mutual hate of Emily Thomas

A/N: So this was supposed to be a drabble, but of course it got to 1.1k. Anyway imma consider it a drabble because I wrote it in an hour.

Gif credit: @hivtserkk

“Thank you, Felipe.” You smiled at the older man and took the extra meat that he gave you. “No problem, princesa. You’re family. I shouldn’t be charging you at all.”

Stubborn old man. You insisted on paying for your food this time which he allowed you to but not without giving you extra. Felipe always considered you family since you and EZ became best friends in middle school, but his love for you grew deeper as you stayed by EZ’s side when he went prison. Not only were you there for EZ, but for him and Angel as well. You would come by and cook them meals that Marisol taught you to make. When they were off at work you would swing by and clean up there places. Or you would have this weird instinct of popping up and keeping them company when the grief became unbearable.

Now grief and hardship were at your door. With your mother dead, you were the only one able to take care of your sick father. Felipe knew money was tight, so he was returning the favor.

Shaking your head, you blew him an air kiss. “Always gotta play the family card, huh?”

“You know it.” He smiled back at you, not feeling guilty at all.

Walking towards the door, you stopped in your tracks when you saw the black SUV. “Ugh,” you groaned and threw your head back. “The white witch is here.”

“Be nice, preciosa.” You were the nicest person Felipe knew, but when it came to Emily Thomas (you refused to call her by her married name) you turned into a gremlin. High school you were able to tolerate her, but as adults you couldn’t stand her. The way she was using EZ made your skin crawl. If you wouldn’t get tortured and killed you would’ve laid hands on her already.

“Y/N,” she sneered down at you.

“Emily.” You echoed with the same disdain.

Before you could say anything ugly you left telling Felipe goodbye and saying not one word to Emily.

Miguel was sitting in the car, waiting on his wife when he saw you. He shouldn’t stare. He was a married man, but your beauty was hypnotizing.

Seeing you struggle to get your keys, Miguel scrambled out the car. “Here let me help you,” Miguel reached for your bags. “Oh, Mr. Galindo that’s not necessary.”

“Miguel.” He corrected you in a lower octave.

With your hands free now, you were able to find your keys with ease. You popped your trunk and took the bags from Miguel. “Thank you, Mr. Gal-,” Miguel’s face was set hard at your slip up. “I mean Miguel.” He smiled at your correction. Why haven’t you noticed this man was beautiful? Maybe because you’ve never been this up close to him.

“You know I’ve always thought the first time I meet you, I would probably get knocked upside the head or threatened.”

Miguel quirked an eyebrow and trapped you in between him and your car. “Hmm, why is that?”

You pointed at Emily inside of Felipe’s shop. “Because I talk so much shit to your wife. To be honest if you wouldn’t have me killed I would’ve beaten her ass repeatedly already.”

Miguel should be offended. He should threaten you for talking ill of his wife, but he couldn’t find it in him. The honesty was so refreshing, he almost forgot what it taste like. Also, it didn’t hurt to see that this angel before him has a dark side.

“Really?” He curled a strand of your hair around his finger, doing nothing to hide the lust in his eyes.

The heat from Emily’s stare was coming in laser hot. This was your moment to make her sweat. Make her think two can play that game. Smiling at her you reached on your tippy toes to whisper in her husband’s ear, pretending to tell him sweet nothings. “You and your wife may not respect the sanctity of marriage, but I do.”

Miguel bent down to your ear, rubbing up and down your arms, “You know I’ve killed people for less.”

Patting his chest, you pushed away. “Yeah, I know. I just don’t care. I don’t like how your wife treats my best friend,” you shrugged. If you couldn’t get Emily to act right, maybe her husband could. “But I just did you a favor.”

“And what is that?”

“Emily’s so jealous now, she’ll probably blow you in the car to make you forget me.”

That didn’t sound as enticing as it should to Miguel. He rather it would be you instead of Emily. “Well, I should pay you then,” Miguel took out his checkbook and began writing.

“Oh wait a minute I don’t need your money.”

“Yes you do. Isn’t your father sick? I’m sure a bartender’s salary can’t cover medical bills.” Miguel ripped out the check and held it out.

“I manage just fine.”

“No.” You crossed your arms. There was no way you were taking it especially with that many zeros on it.

“Why not?” Miguel began to grow impatient. Who refused free money?

“Because men like you don’t give out give out money like that without expecting something in return. And like I just told you I respect the sanctity of marriage even if it’s not mine.”

Smart girl, Miguel thought. But he knew he wouldn’t want anything in return. This conversation was payment enough. “Trust me. This comes with no strings attached.”

“No. I make it a point not to take money from men nicknamed, ‘el Diablo’.”

The rumbling of a motorcycle muffled Miguel’s cursing. It was the bane of his existence, Ezekiel Reyes.

Just like his wife likes to do, you ran to him. An unexpected jealousy thrummed through him when you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him.

“Prospect,” he called out to ruin your mini reunion.

EZ walked towards the man with you trailing behind him. “Give this to your little friend. She refuses to take it.”

“What is wrong with you?” EZ looked at you with widened eyes. “This could help with your dad’s medical bills. Take it.”

“Ezekiel…”

“Take it,” he growled, shoving it in your hands.

“Thank you, Miguel.” You put the check in your purse and began walking to your car. EZ was enjoying you walking away, but then he saw that Miguel was enjoying the view as well.

“See you later, EZ!” You waved at him, ignoring Miguel’s lustful gaze.

Once you were gone, EZ stood toe to toe to Miguel. “Stay the fuck away from my friend.”

“Stay the fuck away from my wife.”

“I’m not the married one. Don’t you have vows to uphold?”

He did. Miguel still loved his wife, but there was something enchanting about you he couldn’t shake. “I do. How about you stay away from my wife and focus on the gem you got in front of you? Don’t fuck that up.” Miguel gripped his shoulder before greeting his wife and steering her away from EZ.

Both men knew this wasn’t the end. As their interest in one woman waned, it grew for another. Leaving them in an endless battle for the love and affection for one woman.

Tagging whoever I can remember from my taglist: @my-rosegold-soul @honestlystephanie @blessedboo @ly--canthrope @thesandbeneathmytoes @starrynite7114 @night-of-the-living-shred @angelreyesgirl @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @chibsytelford @ifoundmyhappythought @nxxstybrat

#black!reader #mayans mc #ez reyes x reader #ez reyes x black!reader #Ezekiel Reyes #ezekiel reyes x reader #ezekiel reyes x black!reader #Miguel Galindo #miguel galindo x reader #miguel galindo x black!reader #frizzlefic #frizzlesfic #frizzlewrites

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messwriting · 3 years

Text

Written for The Smut Pile Collab: Mafia AU | MASTERLIST HERE.

POISON AND PLEASURE

Osamu Miya (Post-Time Skip) x Mob Boss! Female Reader

“Backed into a corner, Osamu makes a deal with the devil -- you.”

Rating: E for explicit | Don’t read this if under eighteen.

Warnings: oh boy. Dub-con (Osamu does consent, but it is coercion); MANIPULATION AND EXTORTION; slight gun play, lasts for a moment; Rough sex; Hate-fucking; Degradation/Humiliation; Spanking, also just for a moment; Oral sex, fingering; Orgasm Denial; Choking; Violence; Dash of corruption and prey/predator; Deep throat; Facial. Fucking in a kitchen/public place. Also, just in case, toxic relationship and money talk (lol).

Word count: 9,889 (such a nice number)

A/N: Oh, this has been a ride. This is my contribution to The Smut Pile Collab, hosted by the lovelies @present-mel, @pleasantanathema and @linestrider. I’m very excited to participate, since it is my first collab and they are my (home) first server. Big, huge, gigantic thanks to Lauren (my wife) for reading this over and beta-ing for me. <3

Well, Osamu fuckers unite! :insert elmo fire: (i’ve been on discord too much)

Osamu gets up from his seat inside his small office, looking from the small window on his door inside the already closed restaurant lit only by the lights that come in through the windows, the time being well after closing. Shady deals are mostly done late at night, he thinks. Right as he’s leaving the office and closing the door behind him with a key, the movement outside catches his eye and Osamu turns just in time to watch as the black BMW sedan of the year quietly comes to a halt right in front of his store. He frowns, knowing who that means. He'd much rather deal with the soldier responsible for his loan initially than with you.

Two men emerge from the front doors of the car, one immediately heading for the passenger door while the driver checks the street; they exchange a small nod before the man on the side of the sidewalk opens the passenger door and when he does, he positions himself behind it and immediately out of the way. Osamu could be intrigued by the action if he didn't feel so represented by it - he, too, would prefer to always be out of your way.

There’s power in the way you move, ingrained in your body as you descend an expensive white heel onto the concrete beneath you on the sidewalk, the other following suit while you propel yourself out, holding the frame of the car for support. It’s late at night and the street is fairly dark, but your simple presence, clad in an impeccable white suit with a deep neckline showing immaculate skin, is enough to brighten the place. There’s an elegant, expensive-looking and equally unnecessary coat draped over your shoulders and your hair was flawlessly styled.

You draw attention as the color black absorbs light-- from all and everything. Maybe it is because of your soul, he muses.

Once you were standing outside the car, your driver marched to the door of the onigiri restaurant, holding it open for you while you strode inside, heels clicking on the pavement, the sway of your hips something Osamu may think beautiful to watch if it weren’t you.

“Hello, Miya-san. Hope you have better news for me this week.” You state as cheerfully as you can, calmly entering the establishment in a glory of white. You shed your coat once you passed the door, the driver catching it while the second man seemed to survey the outside area a little more before entering.

"Hi." Osamu extends his hand with the brown envelope. But you go around him and walk to the counter, calmly sitting down on one of the high stools while absentmindedly looking around his small restaurant.

“I missed my lunch today, so I hope you don’t mind me grabbing a bite before I leave.” You don’t look at Osamu when he doesn’t move for his place behind the counter immediately.

“We’re closed.” He says and you turn around just momentarily, piercing eyes on his profile. One of your men is still by the door and the look he gives the twin is also very compelling. Osamu feels his teeth gritting against the pressure he makes to shut his tongue. "Sure."

One of the goons comes closer and takes the brown envelope from his hands, without you even looking back as the burly tattooed man sits in one of the booths and starts counting the money.

“So, how’s business? I’ve heard you had a hard time these last two months.” You try to make small talk while checking the menu over the counter, carefully done nails threading along the restaurant menu. You only press a long nail against what you want and slide it to him, the 18K diamonds on your small and discreet Cartier watch and matching trinity ring on your finger catching more of his attention than your watchful eyes. Your jewelry is discrete, tasteful, and still amounting enough to buy the whole building where the Onirigi’s shop is located. Osamu's throat moves around nothing in reflex.

"Isn’t it obvious?" He grumbles while working against the counter, starting once he cleans his hands on the sink. He’d like to say his eyes keep diverting to your neckline because of your shining jewelry.

"So rude, Miya." you chuckle. “And I’ve been nothing but nice to you. Didn’t you pay for your little plumbing problem with my money? Is it only dirty to you once I’m present?”

"I don’t like people like you." Osamu doesn’t beat around the bush. And once he’s done with this payment he’d be completely free of you anyway, he doesn’t feel the need to pretend.

“Like me? You mean kind? All I ever did was help you out in a time of need.”

Osamu’s snort is disrespectful. The big man by the door moves but a simple turn of your hand in the air has him standing back, carefully looking down on Osamu, but unmoving. The other’s still counting the money rather calmly, the booth he’s seated unseeable from the shop window.

“You see, disrespect won’t take you far.” You say offhand, your watchful eyes on Osamu’s every move but with no real worry. You don’t trust him, but you know he’s not stupid.

"I don’t plan on it." He answers you after a beat, finishing wrapping the Salmon onigiri, disposing it carefully on a plate, and depositing it in front of you, accompaniments arranged around. Osamu doesn't use the fact that he doesn't like you as an excuse for a half-ass job; he's not the type, which is refreshing. Is what you like about him.

“Get started on a few others. I trust your recommendations.”

Osamu chooses to work quietly, in silence. You, however, are happily chatting away at his high stool as if this is just another day of bullying patrons. Maybe, for you, it is.

“You work very diligently.” You observe, eyes trailing from his toned arms to his deft fingers diligently working on the rice ball. He’s fast and experienced, rolling the nori around the triangled shaped steamed rice after successfully filling it with whatever he chose. Osamu just grumbles out something, or tsk, even when the way you look at his fingers takes an unexpected appreciative turn.

“Maybe I should have you working overtime more.” You muse when he finishes the new onigiris and carefully places them in front of you. Osamu eyes you nastily, clearly displeased at your comment, which makes your lips split in a bigger smile despite your teeth closing around the rice ball. Even so, you’re pleasantly surprised by their flavor.

“See, this is why I like you, Osamu.” The man frowned at your loose use of his first name, the way it rolls off your tongue so nicely. “You always deliver good work.”

“It’s my job.” Osamu retorts, unamused. “I do it right even if it’s for…” He catches his tongue right in time, his eyes catching movement from the man seated down at one of the tables, almost biting his tongue in the process. “--people like you.”

Osamu watches while the burly man with tattoos moves discreetly despite his size, bends down so his mouth can be on your ear level, and murmurs something to you that he doesn’t quite catch. Your steely eyes are momentarily looking down when they blink and fly back to his face, a deep, blank stare that makes Osamu’s brows furrow. His back becomes straighter, a gripping feeling in his gut that triggers his fight or flight.

He presses the urge down - tells himself he doesn’t have anything to fear.

He’s looking down at you, but Osamu feels small under your steady glare. Which in reflex, after several years of being stupid in pair, makes him want to act up.

"Seems to me you forgot some money, Miya."

"What?" His shocked tone is harsh and his eyes dart between you to the two men behind you, looking as steady as his walls and just as broad. "I counted it twice, everythin’ I owe ya ‘s there." His accent comes out pretty hard when he’s agitated.

"You only have fifty thousand here."

“I owe ya fifty thousand.” Osamu deadpans, almost sneering. “What ’re ya sayin’?"

“No, Miya. Fifty thousand is what you owed me two weeks ago.”

"You gave me an extension." He argues, brows furrowed.

"Exactly. I never said anything about the interest.”

"What?"

"You forgot the interest." You talk to him as if he’s a child, lips turning upwards at his confusion. Osamu has the gut feeling you’re enjoying every second of this. Every little moment of his deep discomfort. “You were informed about them when you accepted the loan, you know how they work. If you don’t pay on the due date, 10 percent interest each extra week you remain in debt.”

"Are you telling me I'm missin’ over 10K in interest rates?

"Yes." You say, smiling while tilting your head sideways, analytical. "Because you are."

“I'm paying you back,” Osamu grits through his clenched teeth, almost as if he’s willing it to be true, “Everything I owed ya is there. ”

"Not quite. You’re paying me back about--” You smile and press your lips in thinking, eyebrows furrowing while you calculate on your head the exact number. “-- 82 percent of what you owe me.”

Osamu’s fists close, veins bulging while his heart picks up with the adrenaline rush of a fit of rage. Aggression flows on his body to the point where his entire frame trembles. His teeth are clenched, tightly forced together by his pressed jaw. His brain cannot reason beyond the need to vent that outrage, and with every second he spends looking at your pretty-faced indifference sitting in front of him at the counter, his outrage slowly merges into fury. Osamu stares back at your emotionless eyes, turns, and walks two strides before burying his fist in the nearest plaster wall, the pain grounding him, soothing his nerves.

Pain is familiar -- what Osamu doesn’t like is to feel so deranged.

"Fuck!" He exclaims loudly but still controlled, turns his broad back to you, breathes deeply a few times, and then settles. You watch in delighted silence as he moves to the freezer, grabs an iced pack of random food, and puts on his busted knuckles, his eyes on the hole he left on the wall; The twin sighs audibly, then walks back while coldly regarding you and your two watchdogs who look over to him carefully, almost startled.

You, however, didn’t even flinch.

"So how much do I still have to give you?"

“I think the better question is: Can you pay?”

“I’ll figure it out.” Osamu grumbles out, his clenched jaw working over grinding teeth.

“That’s not how this works, Miya.” You tell him, your spine regally straight on the high seat as if it is your throne. Your lips move around the next word with malice. “When.”

“I--” Osamu stops to think for a moment, coldly calculating his financial situation. He has no way to withdraw money from the main branch to try and cover the losses of this branch, that would be simply stupid. There is no way for him to borrow money from Atsumu, who doesn’t know the concept of savings; Kita can not help him with such a great amount and he can’t recur to his poor parents. He also doesn’t want to resort to a bank at all, which doesn’t leave him many options. A new extension raises interests and he doesn't think he can do it beyond the amount he would need to add. Osamu's chest slowly fills with dread - he knows what’ll come if he doesn’t pay and he refuses to let his business become a Mafia parlor.

You watch Osamu slowly and quite meticulously calculate his options while engrossed in reasoning his dreadful situation; it’s thrilling, you almost can’t hide the contentment blossoming in your chest at his desperate situation.

His expression shifts and turns sour, before slowly building back his blank façade but it’s too late, you already know his conditions and capacities - it’s your job to know. And you pride yourself in never making bets, just assuming calculated risks, so Osamu is right where you wanted him to be.

You do suspect the black-haired male is the same, that disinterested stare in his handsome face nothing short of sharp, his aloof behavior making every second of rilling Osamu up to this manifestation of discomfort all the more delightful. His only problem is that the man plays by rules you don’t. And what you want, you take.

“I’ll need an extension for the rest.” He finally says, so absolutely angered it’s almost a curse. Even the hostility in his tone makes a shiver run down your spine, all the hairs on your arms standing on edge while your insides slowly melt, fed by the images in your brain.

“Really?” You playfully answer, faked surprise not made to convince anyone. Osamu seethes in place, labored breathing making his chest move up and down. “See, now I can’t help you out. I told you disrespect would only take you so far.”

You get up from your seat, a show of touching your expensive black plump Louboutin on the ground. “I can’t let you out like this, not when you did such a show of being… rude.”

“What do you want.” Osamu almost spits at you once you’re rounding his counter, entering his space, closing on him. But he holds himself in place by pressing his nails hardly against the inside of his palms.

“First, some respect.” You sultrily say at him, much as a viper luring its prey. It rolls off your scarlet lips while you look up at him from your long lashes and perfect face. It makes Osamu want to wreck it.

“I don’t respect you.” He says in undertone since you’re close, sounding much like a hiss.

“Doesn’t seem like a smart thing to say to someone to whom you owe so much.” You purse your lips, fake pout. “And you seem like a smart man, Miya. Or am I wrong?”

Osamu blinks, brows furrowing while he looks down at you, his mind working.

“Where are you going with this?” He eyes you warily, his eyebrows furrowing, his mind trying to gauge the target of your wicked intentions. “You want something.”

You smile, pretty red lips stretching to show a beautiful line of white teeth and he’s surprised that the poison isn’t dripping.

“See, I knew you were smart.”

“I’m not giving you my business.” Osamu hisses, like a cornered animal, but his instance shows he’s more prone to fight than flee.

“Don’t want it.” You’re quick to tell him, innocence so out of place that it makes even clearer that you’re being honest. “I may need… services, though.”

Osamu’s spine shoots straight once again, his eyes sharp boring into your face with cold disdain.

“I’m not laundering your money.”

“Money launder, Miya? That’s a federal felony.” You lean back, supporting yourself on your forearms against the balcony, vigilant eyes zooming on him. “Are you saying I’m a criminal?”

Osamu stays silent for the first time. There’s a predatory glint in your eyes that he understands as a warning, but that doesn’t stop him from upturning his brow and tilting his head in a small challenge. Osamu is appalled at what your upturning lips do to his guts, swallowing the saliva that pools in his mouth. He must be wrong in the fucking head to feel anything else than disgust in your sight, but even so, there’s no denying the way there’s a devilish pull around you, like the temptation of a capital sin.

“What I mean is… I have a specific service for you, personally. So you could pay me in...” Your tongue snaps against the roof of your mouth with a small noise, lips turning up in vile intention, “Different goods, per se.”

Osamu refuses to accept his train of thought, eyes pressing into slits while he watches you. His tone enunciates every word of his question.

“What do you mean?”

Your answering smile is sordid.

“You know what I mean Miya, we’ve just established you’re not stupid.”

“I’m starting ta’ think you are, though.”

Your laugh is loud, cheerful even. It makes him look at you as if you’re insane.

“Maybe.” You chuckle, retreating your arms back and straightening your posture on the tool, your neck tilting to the side. “But when I want something, I want it. So why deny myself that? I find the whole point of self-control to be so… pedestrian.” There’s this contempt in your tone at the word, mixing into trivial once your shoulders shrug your consideration for a whole chunk of what living in a society means. “Why hold myself to it if I’m above?” Osamu chooses to ignore that question.

“And what if I say no?”

“You’re free to do what you want, I don’t own you.” Yet, you think, smiling. “Then again you still owe me 10k in interests and with your measly weekly 5k profit and the increased interest percentage with the second extension, we know what’ll happen to you… And I’d hate for that to happen to you.”

The silence is heavy and acidic, burning on him. And you let the seconds pass, relishing in the way he seems to grow aggravated, jaw overworking around nothing to bite, hands in fists by his side.

Oh, you’re close to defiling the pristine white of your designer clothes, the feeling brewing inside you threatening to spill between your thighs. Osamu looks absolutely delicious while being so emotional.

You can see the gears turning inside his pretty dark-haired head, his eyes looking around and back at you, threading down your face, to your neck to the plunging neckline of your suit - you elongate your body while he watches, pleased to have his eyes on you, especially when they're burning with unattended violence and aggression.

Osamu’s always so detached from the events happening around him, so unshakable in that aura of apathetic tranquility that it has caused you to develop an almost macabre interest in making him desperate. And now you are continually enjoying the result, the awakening of the flames that you always knew existed inside the small business owner.

A few minutes pass while you’re just content to watch, the knot in your stomach growing tighter as you appreciate the size of his shoulders, the strength hidden in the strong biceps, the broad, defined torso that you know exists under that simple black outfit simply by gut feeling alone. You are tempted to ask him to turn around so that you can also enjoy his backside.

“Ok.” He says in a breath that seems more like it was ripped out of his chest. Like a dead man last world. You like this analysis. But of course, he can’t have it so easy.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear. Did you say anything?”

Osamu purses his lips in discomfort, almost bites his tongue in the process of not telling you to go to hell.

“I said,” he entones again, though his disdain is showing. “Ok”

“Ok, what?” You press. Oh, the way how his veins bulge on his forearms when his nails press on his palms have your hairs standing on end. You blink at him with a smile, all too pleased with yourself.

“Ok, I’ll do it.” Osamu squeezes out, brows furrowed in discovering your intentions. You’re leering with wicked prowess.

“I don’t think that's how you say it, Miya.” Your brows go up in the tiniest indication of irritation. Your voice is calculated, though unable to hide the elation.

“Ok… Miss. I’ll do anything you want.” The words come out of his mouth sounding nothing like submission and much like he just cursed your whole generation, teeth grinding. Still, it makes you smile. You don’t want to break his spirit -- that’s why you chose him.

“That’s what I like to hear.” You say, pushing yourself out from the counter where you supported yourself. Coat long forgotten on top of it, you cross your arms in front of your breasts, knowing exactly how you look and very pleased at the way his eyes ever so slightly thread down your plunging neckline. “But not so fast. I didn’t tell you I’d accept it-”

“Ya just--” Osamu almost explodes, the arms he holded closed in front of him being thrown in the air as if he’d be ready to grab you. You just turn a hand up and reels at how he actually shuts up right after.

“I just told you, you could pay me in services.” You continue, one step closer to him in your expensive shoes, plump red lips dripping wicked intent.

“But,” You start, closer to him enough that your breath is touching his heated skin and you can smell the sweat his aggression produced, your mouth salivating at the thought of tasting it on his skin.

Your finger rests on his chest and you thread it up while speaking, looking him in the eyes, so pleased at finding so much life in his usual dead stare, “I don’t know if you’re good enough for the job yet.”

Osamu stares back at you, hands in fists forcibly stuck next to his body, feeling the way your hot breath trails on his jaw and hating himself for what it brews in his insides.

You stretch up in your heels, mouth dangerously close to his, which rests ajar to let his breathing out, enough that he can taste your mint breath on his tongue.

“I think I may need a little…” Your eyes thread down to his mouth and then back to his eyes while you speak your next words, “--taste, you know?”

Osamu flexes his fingers, swallows dry around his closed throat, stares at your face -- so close the downright devilish smile on your red lips seems to narrow his field-view -- and he blinks.

The Miya thinks how he wants to wipe that smile off your sinful lips. How he wants to have you trembling, unattended, and disheveled. He thinks about you begging with his name on your tongue, for a release that he’ll keep denying at his disposition. Osamu thinks about leaving you sore and marked, thinks about wrapping his hands around your neck to watch as you struggle, turning purple, life evading you while he fucks you; consider this may be the only way he’d ever had the opportunity to get even close to a payback.

Osamu wants you to experience mind-numbing pleasure you’d never before, uniquelly brought by him… and suffer through the rest of your fucking disgraceful life without being able to taste it again once he’s done paying his debt. Because Osamu swears on his fucking name and whole life, he’ll never give it to you again.

He can see your future already and in it you’re fucked - both by him and for him, while he’s the one who gets away. The twin wonders if you ever lost anything like this in your life, can feel himself growing hard at being the one to make you cry.

“Sure.” Osamu smiles, lopsided, the devil himself being safer than him. “I’ll give ya the taste ya deserve.”

Your eyes press slightly closer in mistrust, the wicked intention pouring from his body so close to yours impossible to miss. Either way, it's your win; that’s exactly what you’ve been bargaining for, despite your game being rigged from the start.

You bring your face close to his as if you were going to kiss him and you are delighted when his eyes go down, although not completely closed, his pupils focusing on your lips.

You smile and retreat, turning to your men still positioned exactly where you left them, behind the bench where you were sitting previously. They remain so observant and sharp as ever, despite looking more like gargoyles than men.

“I’ll need a moment.” You tell them in a serious tone, calm. They both look at you for a second and nod, their stances changing very little despite it. You turn back to him but walk inside his establishment as if you own the place, pushing through the doors that lead to the back and inside his small, equipped kitchen. Osamu follows in silence, briefly wondering if he’d be able to snatch a knife and bury it in your chest.

There’s not much outside cooking paraphernalia, with two big counters and taller than normal table in the center. You stop right in front of it, your hand threading over it for a moment.

“That’ll do.” You say while you turn around to look at him. You look so strikingly bright in the middle of his rather normal kitchen, clad in both lavish clothes and unblemished skin; he wants so much to be able to say your sight doesn’t thrill him -- but he can’t lie to himself.

But then you pointedly eye him and then the ground in front of you, “Kneel.”

Osamu considers his previous thought about burying a knife deep in your chest but walks, stiff, to where you indicated. He kneels with even less disposition than when he walked towards you, the descent slow until the ground’s hard tile is registered against his knee. He makes a point of looking into your eyes as he lowers, hatred overflowing in waves that seem to give you a sick satisfaction, your eyes becoming slightly out of focus.

The Miya’s about to ask what you’d want him to do next, like pledge himself or some shit, when your hands move to the hidden zipper on the side of your impeccable white pants.

It drops to the floor in one go, displaying the graceful planes of your hips, appeasing spanse of flesh, a small triangle of silk hiding your most private parts. Saliva pools in Osamu’s mouth at the sight, his teeth pressing against one another to avoid betrayal. He’s still unsure of what’s his next step until your heel digs on his shoulder painfully, using him as leverage to prop yourself up on the high table.

His eyes snap to yours while he bite his tongue to not curse you out loud. There’s a gun on top of his head that is a big warning for Osamu to behave -- not that he’d have the chance to escape with the watchdogs outside his only exit. If he had, you could be dead already.

Your suit threads up when you move up and slide on the table, the white silk panties peeking in between your open thighs. You move your beretta calmly off his face and thread it slightly, almost fondly, over your naked thigh.

You make a small show of removing your finger from the trigger and depositing it far on the table, enough to be out of his reach and almost yours too. You look back at him once you’re empty handed and just so open right there on the table for him.

“Behave, Osamu. You know you wouldn’t make it very far.”

Osamu grits his teeth but nods, your heel still supported on his shoulder but not digging on his skin anymore. You lay slightly back against his tabletop, forearms resting on the surface carefully. Dressed in a white, stylish suit like the last trend, the skin in between so bright it feels like a taunt, the curves of your breasts so ripe he wants to taste, the closed lapels looking like his own pathway to sin. He can feel his blood boiling, aggression throbbing, and he wants to paint you in red.

“Well then,” You start, happily above him, spread like a meal, “Show me if you’re good enough to pay your debt. Consider this your warrant.”

“Don’t worry.” Osamu drawls out with dripping distaste, his hand slowly, almost bored, threading up from your ankle to your knees. “I’ll fuck ya like you want it. Within an inch of your life.”

His hands lock on the back of your knees and he parts them forcefully, while you leave a yelp followed by laughter, your head thrown back with glee.

You smell of flowers and spice, so expensive he was surprised that you weren’t dripping fucking gold. His palms slide through the back of your thigh and the skin under his fingertips is soft and firm, all shapes of heaven despite being in sole service of the devil.

Osamu starts slowly, the table leaving you open just at the height of his neck while he’s kneeled on the ground, at the perfect height. His thumb presses on your skin while he holds one of your legs up, brings his lips to your knee. There’s a welcoming stain on your panties, and he scoffs at you despite the way his cock responds on his trousers.

“I haven’t even started and you’re already wet?” The way you smile at him is both infuriating and bewitching.

“What? Didn’t you enjoy our little foreplay earlier?” You tease him, plump lips locked under a row of teeth with mirth. His skin feels prickling and Osamu decides he needs more room, roughly pushing on your thighs until he can fit between them with room to spare.

It’s not fair, how good you feel, the delicious smell of your skin, the way your taunt alights him with fire in his veins.

Osamu knows it’s bait -- and he’s willingly falling for it.

When his lips start to thread on the inner part of your knee and up, the twin does it with the intention to mark; he sucks instead of kissing, licks instead of caressing, and bites once he finds the plush meat of your inner thighs.

It stings and you let the smallest of sounds, but Osamu feels it in his gut, brings his hot tongue to soothe over it, bask in the way you tremble under his fingertips just enough for him to sink his teeth and revel in the pain on your groan.

His nose treads along the furthest expanse of the joining of your thighs, touches the silk of your expensive panties, senses the way you tense and watches while your pussy trembles, even while still covered by fabric.

He considers holding back his tongue, but Osamu has never been the type to be held back by the threat of punishment. And you’ve shown to clearly enjoy his fiery side.

“Such an eager pussy right here, isn't it?” He threads his nose against the wet patch in the silk, carefully breathes against the covered lips. Osamu lets one of his shoulders bear one leg and brings his thumb to pass over the growing wet patch. “Sticky.” He presses it from the wetness to the place where your clit should be, watches as you respond to his touch with aborted movement. “Such a slut.” It’s supposed to be degrading, but there’s a hint of appreciation in his words that isn’t lost on you. “Is this all it takes for my debt? It’ll be finished in a second then.”

Your mouth opens to retort but closes in time to withhold a moan before it falls through your lips. His thumb’s pressing against your clit in tight circles while the index of his other hand threads over your covered cunt. Turns out Osamu has moves to back up the big talk.

He’s methodical, clearly good and deft with his fingers, controlled pressure applied in a way that has you writhing on the table despite your intention to make this hard on him. Your desire to make him work for it, apparently, is no match for his.

Osamu presses the tips of his fingers on your clothed entrance, enough force that it barely breaks inside you but the teasing has you churning on the table for him, legs trying to part beyond limits, body arching where it’s been relegated. Your chest feels hot and heavy despite the little clothing. You’re hoping for the moment where he’ll tease the hard nipples pressing against the flimsy lace of your bralet and the inside of your suit with the same intensity he’s depositing on your cunt.

Osamu, on the other hand, has no rush. You did this, gave this opportunity for him to wreck you, and he plans on enjoying it to the bitter end. He’s fairly surprised at how responsive you are, how quickly you melt for him, how vocal you can be despite doing little more than grunts and sighs. A thought flashes through his mind when he feels a renewed wave of wetness blossom against the fabric where his fingers are pressing, his lips turning in a self-satisfied smirk.

“Have you been so desperate for a good cock you’ve resorted to blackmail?” Your eyes snap open at his voice, a warm wave of something that you refuse to believe in being embarrassment depositing in your cheekbones. Osamu’s fingers prod harder against your entrance, fingers spreading against the wet fabric to your outer lips while his thumb keeps drawing endless circles around your clit. “Tsk, what a dirty move from an even dirtier slut.”

He slaps your clit once, then twice, his bulking frame preventing you from closing your legs against the sudden pain. Your body trembles on unsteady forearms. You choke on a breath and then release a moan, the sound outrageous to Osamu even as his cock throbs from it.

“Maybe I’ll give ya what you want.” The Miya teases, his voice sounding even despite the turmoil inside him. You look up at him with such eyes he could fool himself into thinking he wanted this.

His fingers teether on the edge of your underwear, rough fingertips just daring to cross into the emanating heat. Your hips twitch, the emptiness inside you accentuated by your muscles clenching around nothing, desire pouring out against the prodding fingertips. Osamu snorts, throws you a hard stare that is equal parts fire and contempt.

“You’re so wet. Are you enjoying this that much?” It drips acidic from his tongue against your neck, after he bends himself over you. From so close, Osamu’s warm breath is the same as a caress, his tongue teasing you with the way it threads over his lips but doesn't extend the courtesy to your skin. “You’re rather easy to rile up, hah? Or is it that you enjoyed playin’ with me before?” His teeth flash white above your head and you swallow around the desire of having them plunging on your skin. “How was it ya said? Foreplay, hah?”

You feel weirdly wound up inside your own skin, as if there’s not enough space and still a growing void inside you waiting for him to fill. It’s insane, it’s delicious, and a loud moan breaches your throat when Osamu plunges two fingers inside you without warning.

Your body arches in such a curve your breasts press against his chest, the relieving brush too shallow to register in your brain when you’re hyper fixated on the sensation brewing inside you.

It doesn’t even sting, instead you feel like your hunger escalates, fed by such little push that your want becomes need and for the first time in forever you actually consider asking for something.

Your mouth opens, and Osamu snickers. “What?” He presses his thumb over your clit fast, relinquishes in the way you groan, feels the way your insides beg him to keep going.

Still not enough though. He wants it ruined for you.

“Maybe I’ll just make you cum on my fingers right here.” He spreads, scissor and twists them inside you, enjoying the feeling of your tight walls clenching around him at his every move. Osamu’s skin feels on fire, body overheating, and the way your lips turn up to reveal a line of white teeth in glee has his gut twisting.

“You have a pretty loose tongue for such a quiet guy.” You look at him with semi-closed eyes, the victorious smile of the cat who got the mouse. “Maybe you like me more than you thoug--ahhhhh!”

Osamu shoves and prods around your insides for that special place even demons like you have and his assault is nothing short of merciless. Your eyes snap open at the force of his ramming, eyebrows furrowing at the way your pleasure seems to have forgone climb to skyrocket instead. Osamu watches in begrudging enchantment while your lips fall open to suck air into your breathless lungs and your eyes grow unfocussed, shoulders falling against the table so your hands can come to hold his arms but for what he doubts even you know.

He’s not stopping. Until he does.

You let out a noise like a wounded animal, tethering on the edge of mind numbing pleasure he won’t give you and when your body trembles from exertion of a denied orgasm instead of bliss, Osamu’s chest swells in pride.

“Whydidyoustop?” You lament in one breath, eyes are blinking back into focus, sweat and - oh he hopes those are tears - droplets dripping from the corner of your eyes while you turn to press your face on the cold metal surface of the table. “I was so close!” This time you rage, nails pressing against his skin enough to hurt.

“Wadidya mean?” Osamu tilts his head sideways, patronizing. “You didn’t ask for it. I’m just doing what you told me: being respectful.”

You laugh, still breathless, and turn to him in disbelief. “Fucker.”

“Not yet,” He corrects you, nuzzling his hips on your thighs. “Maybe if you ask nicely enough.”

Osamu retreats while you regulate your breath, letting your useless legs fall limp while both of his hands come to help your panties down, marveling at the way they’re peeled off your wet pussy lips. His cock aches and demands, but he’s used to reining in his dick. And he’s just started, anyway.

The Miya pushes you forward on the table, opening your legs wide like a treat. Your pussy is glistening, rhythmically calling for something to fill it while you leak. He plunges a finger back inside to watch you tremble, stimulation enough to make your eyes fall closed, long black lashes against beautiful sweaty skin.

“Look at this.” Osamu plunges a second finger inside, opening them wide enough to sting. “What a desperate whore.”

Your mind is swirling in urge, but you refuse to spill the words on your tongue. It would give you what you want, but at what cost? Osamu looks positively ferocious above you, dark eyes focused on your every move; it sends shivers through your spine, your body trembling and blossoming for him once again. You’re in your personal heaven, in company of the devil himself.

Osamu kneels again in front of your open legs, hook one on his shoulder while he holds the other thigh forcefully up with a grip so hard your muscle aches under his fingers. But you don’t care, in fact you sigh “more” for him right as his breath teases your folds.

“No.” He tells you, two fingers pumping at leisure. His tongue slurps at your inner thigh, teeth closing in a bite with nothing to sooth.

“Fuck.” You breathe out in a groan and his smirk is pronounced against your skin.

Osamu, as you’re learning, is a tease.

His moves are soft, lacking in everything but aim; his tongue moves along the sensitive parts of your body you’ve never really cared for, like the plush flesh of your thighs, underside of your ass, the juncture of your groin. He has yet to taste you but you feel wounded, body constricted under weak ministrations, feather-like teases. It sinks with a piercing revelation that you could cum like this -- in an unfulfilled manner with not-good-enough touches that somehow have made your body feel raw like an exposed nerve in which the minimum touch would be enough to warrant waves of pleasure.

When his tongue comes to thread along your slit slowly, nose caressing along his way, your body clenches and threatens to spasm around unmoving fingers. You’re so close, so close, your body is ready to burst, fraying at the seams of a control you’re not using, your hands flying to try and find your clit at the same time Osamu’s eyes flash and he holds it, presses it forcefully against your belly while his lips slurp at your folds, circle your clit, but it’s so soft, it’s fucking unfair.

“Goddammit, Osamu!” You scream, enraged at the way your second orgasm flies away from you as his fingers leave your quivering hole, his mouth doing nothing more than lap at your overflowing juices with no real worry, no urgency.

“Oh, look at that.” The Miya smirks, drawing back up to look at your disheveled state; flustered, sweating, dripping and unattended. “You wanted a taste.” His hand comes back to your cunt, fingers thread along puffy lips. “I’m giving it to you.”

“You bastard.” His fingers leave your heat just to plunge inside again, a loud gushing sound following it. “Shit.” You sigh while falling back, and Osamu feels his cock throb once more at how breathless you sound.

Your mind works around the feeling of being spread so far you feel as if you’re paper thin. Your mind goes rushing in its last attempt at working. Osamu looks self-satisfied, almost content, so you know where to hit. You want it, so you find a way to have it.

“Oh, poor Miya--” You coo at him with a hoarse voice in glazed eyes, but the condescending tone is clear as day. “Are you trying to hurt me?” You plant a hand on his black hair, pulling at it enough to hurt. “‘Cause I like pain.”

Fire explodes in his eyes and you tighten around his fingers in response, but other than his frown, Osamu remains calm.

He slams three fingers inside before you can mouth any new words, smirks down at you with mischief when you tremble and bite your lips to hold the noises in, eyes falling back closed to hide the way they turn inside your skull. His other hand is holding your thigh forcefully open once again and his palm presses with hurtful intention, fingertips buried in your flesh so hard his digitals may mark you for days.

“Let you cum on my fingers and nothing else, is that going to be enough for you?” Osamu snarls against your ear, hot breath tickling your jaw. His hips hold you open to his assault at your pussy and his hand abandons your thigh to glide over your body and close around your throat.

Osamu squeezes hard.

“Then again I could ruin your orgasm for the third time.” He bends over you, his lips right in front of your sight; eyes looking down at you with such fire you almost wonder if they’re the cause for the burn in your lungs. “Leave you writhing on the table, empty, until you learn to have a little respect.”

This.

Your lips spread in a smile almost maniacal, goosebumps rising on your skin as if you’re electrified. This is what you’ve wanted all along -- passion, fearless assault of words, electrifying pleasure; and also, the detachment, the murderous intent, all merging together in one perfect Osamu Miya. Shit, you think to yourself, at this hate you may actually come from his teasing alone.

“You talk too much for someone who didn't make me cum yet.” You pour gasoline into his fire.

Osamu pulls you up by the lapels of your suit, button flying open at the hastiness, your breasts protected by such a flimsy piece of lace you’re surprised it doesn’t turn to ash at his stare. Your hard nipples mark the white bralet, the air feeling cold at how hot they are.

A hand covered in your juices closes on your cheeks, forcefully opening your lips at the threat of pain, his fingers with lingering heat from your insides.

“Such a big mouth, should I shut you up?” Osamu asks you, eyes boring on yours. The plea is on the point of your tongue as if he’d shoved his hand inside you to yank it himself, and it tips out when his dark eyes steal one single snippet of your smeared red lips open by his hands.

“Fuck me.”

He nods negatively, presses hard enough that your teeth could cut your inner cheeks. He relents and your tongue grazes your lips, moistening them for his eyes.

Osamu smiles, a tilt of his lips up but so earnestly you’re almost hopeful, then: “No.”

Even if as he says it, it’s a lie. He knows he’ll fuck you, but right now he’s enjoying the build-up, toying with you as if you’re his plaything and not the opposite. You growl and curse, head falling back when he palms at your covered breasts, push the lace up, hears the way it strains and threatens to rip.

It’s oddly relatable -- Osamu also feels taut, stretched around a fleeting control that he feels will slip with one dip inside you. His past sexual experiences involved partners who he cherished and few one-night stands which, for the small time his dick was inside them, he was mindful and cared for their pleasure.

Right now, while he pinches and palm at your body, he has not a single worry about your pleasure and all the concern about his. This is for him. He bends his head over your bosom, sucks a nipple inside the hot cave of his mouth and bites. As his cock twitches and aches inside his trousers, he relishes in the pained noises you leave, even when they’re marked by breathless arousal.

“You sure are fucked up. Look how much you’re enjoying this.” His fingers force the howl of your cheeks, feeling your teeth nicking the insides of your mouth even through layers of flesh. There’s an infuriating elation in your expression, and Osamu retaliates by sucking harshly on your skin, teeth finding soft places to close on.

You moan loudly and his hand slides back onto your throat in the motion. Your hand shots up from the table to find his hard dick and your laugh makes his blood boil. “Clearly I’m not the only one.”

His heartbeat spikes at the words, even if Osamu knows it. The twin pulls the suit jacket half-down your arms and slams your body on the slight cold surface of the metal table, noise sounding thunderous but still no one comes after you.

Your skin erupts in goosebumps at the aggression, blood flying so fast through your heart you feel lightheaded. You’re about to spit some more fire into Osamu when two of his fingers gag you, other hand descending on your ass with such force and so unexpectedly your legs give out, dangling from the table as if you’re a ragdoll.

Something remarkably close to a whine turning sob slides through your throat and dies at Osamu’s fingers, just as something big and hot surges over your ass cheeks. Something coils on your chest, the emotion makes your eyes water and for a moment you blink it away, thanking the new position doesn’t let Osamu catch that.

Too soon. Osamu pulls your head back as his hand peels the globes of your ass apart and before you can breathe, the little air inside you is being knocked out with one thrust of Osamu’s hip.

He forces his dick inside you, tearing you open as your walls make way for his aggression, wetness dripping while Osamu fills you to the hilt, because yes, that's what you want. You want his hate, his passion, you want Osamu to tear you apart while you enjoy every second of it.

“‘Samu!” His name is on your lips as your eyes roll back, whole body tensing until you’re falling, just like that.

Then he retreats. “Fuck! Fuck no!” This time it’s a wail, a sob as your third orgasm turns to ashes, your insides trembling with nothing to hold, empty and meager pleasure.

“Wha--Cummin’ already? Nope.” The twin laughs above you, hands tilting your head painfully back. “So embarrassing.” Osamu mocks you and you swear you can feel a renewed wave of cream slide down your insides to greet the head of his cock, nudging along your swollen lips. Your tongue feels so heavy on your mouth, parched and breathless all at once, no way out but silence.

“You are disgusting, you know that? Such a greedy fucking pussy doesn’t deserve to be this tight.”

Your laugh turns into a deep moan when Osamu hits deep inside you. “God yes.” You twist one hand out of the suit’s sleeve just to pull him by the hem of his blouse, your nails digging against the skin of his neck, blooming red yelts. “Talk shit to me Osamu. I know you have better lines.”

“Fuck you.” The twin spits, his hips pistoning harder against yours until he just stops the motion, leaves you open and gapping for him to fill you again. “Of course a pig like ya has the hots for humiliation. Look at that, the slut’s pussy squeezing around my dick because she thinks I'm doing this for her pleasure.” His hand comes down on the other side of your ass, where he hasn't hit yet. It stings, but the way his palm massages and grabs at it before almost soothes the burn. “Disgusting sluts don’t get to say anything, not even begging will get you what you want. I decide what you get."

You look back from your shoulder to see his cock is standing proud and angry, swollen head shining red and dripping translucent white, as if he hadn't been wet from your juices before. Osamu’s big, especially thick and he presses inside you again without giving you time to adjust, unforgiving pace right from the start.

You curse at the way one of your hands keeps locked behind you by your suit, your nails digging on your own skin without anything else to find purchase on; the other tries to grab onto Osamu to no avail, falling on the table to help support yourself at the strength of his pounding. Your mouth is open, divided between sucking breaths and puffs of air. Osamu’s hand has since found purchase in your neck, the way he forces it back painful, the pressure on your throat growing and ceasing as he wishes.

Still, you can’t think. Your mind is lost in a sea of searing pleasure, your nipples pressed against the metal surface as Osamu finally fucks you as you’ve been dreaming. No, maybe even better. The past men you’ve fucked had all been afraid of hurting you, careful with retaliation. As Osamu fists your hair and forcefully presses you against the table; you think you may be having a religious experience. Your eyes water from the force of his manhandling, tears spilling while you left unbelievable noises fall from your lips. You want to scream and laugh, a hot sensation spreading from your fingertips to your core.

The wave of the orgasm is forming quickly, your toes curling against the insides of your Louboutins enough to hurt, the incessant pounding of Osamu’s hips against your ass sounding downright pornographic. As the peak approaches, doubt gnaws at your chest for the first time in forever.

The simple thought of Osamu robbing you of your orgasm this time is enough to make your whole body tremble and recoil, your mind too slow to catch on to his intentions. You consider biting your tongue to hold the plea in, but as you bolt into mind-blowing pleasure you’ve never even imagined before, the alternative feels like dying.

You’re tethering the edge and you feel Osamu pressing harder against you, and you break. “Please!” You cry out, “Pleasepleaseplease, don’t stop.” His movements slow down and halt, and the hand on your ass slides around you, a single finger taps repeatedly on your swollen clit.

“Say it.” He all but howls at your ear, bites on it for good measure.

“Please, ‘samu, let me fucking cum!” You beg but you’re already falling over, whole body shuddering just from the way he nudges his hips against your ass and taps on your sensitive bundle of nerves. Panic surges in between your pleasure that he’ll ruin this one when he retreats from your quivering insides, but Osamu rams back inside you with such power that your head rattles, hips hurting from the impetus of his fucking.

Sound rings in your ear while you drown in the thunderous waves of your pleasure for what feels like forever. It flows and flows and flows to a point you can’t tell if you’re seeing black or just closed your eyes.

Osamu watches, enthralled, how you go completely boneless under him. Your insides have stopped squeezing him tight but his hard, aching cock still throbs inside your heat. It’s honestly unbelievable how tight you feel around him, how fantastic he feels buried balls deep inside your walls. He had to stop trying to fuck you through your orgasm in worry he’d may cum. Poison and pleasure curl in his chest at the thought. Osamu feels like spanking you, choking you, to punish you for this undeserving heaven you have between your thighs.

But he’s not done yet.

Osamu retreats, the slide of his cock leaving your delicious walls -- cold air from outside so less welcoming -- and you sag on the table. He pulls you up on unsteady legs and smirks, proud. Your bare feet touch the ground and Osamu spins you around, swallowing on a tight throat after one look at your disheveled blissful state, but then he retreats and let’s you collapse to the ground.

The image of your legs sliding open on the cold tiled floor, unsteady hands finding purchase to hold your torso up while your head looks up at him in outrage is one he sears in his mind, a wicked satisfaction sliding over his spine at the sight alone. The wreck of you at his feet, by his hands, nothing short of perfect.

His cock throbs and pulses in front of your eyes, dragging your attention and Osamu steps closer, poses one hand on the top of your head, ruins the rest of your styled hair by dragging fingertips in it.

You’re still lightheaded, shockwaves making you twitch on the cold floor and Osamu is elated at how wrecked you look, makeup smeared, hair disheveled, body holded up by unsteady arms. Your lips are open, between breathless pulls of air and heavy exhales, but Osamu doesn't care, hands forcefully tugging your hair back and angling your mouth at his swelled cockhead. He counts as a win that you don’t bite him, your tongue threading flat on the underside of his length as he buries himself on your throat.

There’s resistance, so the Miya retreats, forcing it back a few other times until it finally slides a few inches more inside. While he maintains the force over your hair, his other hand engulfs your chin, thumb breaching your lips to hold your mouth open despite the fact you don’t make any move to close it.

It feels his chest with acidic bitterness that you welcome his aggression, glazed, tearful eyes looking up at him as if the fact he’s using you as little more than a cocksleeve is the brightest part of your day. Still, Osamu’s skin feels close to tearing under the sheer amount of pleasure flooding his insides. His hairs are standing on end, heart beating so fast his lungs burn, every muscle on his body tensed at his mindless pursuit of his high. He buries his cock deep inside the tight space of your throat, your gurgles and groaning enhancing his sensation. It looks painful to you to hold him inside, tears ending your makeup, face turning red at the lack of air. He closes both hands behind your head, making you nuzzle his pelvis even as your nails close on his thighs threatening to break skin.

He retreats to let you breathe just as your eyes go unfocused, feels something squeezing inside as you cough and wheezes and his throat squeezes a large gulp of air when you look up at him, tongue hanging out with a wide-open mouth just offered for him.

Osamu feels like hurting you at how good you are, infuriatingly obedient and willing to be at the end of his aggression. So he buries himself back inside at one go, both hands holding your head for him. There’s too much chaos inside of him, so he decides to pour some out through words.

“You like being used like this, huh? Like little more than a fucking cocksleeve for me.”

“What is it? Does being in power make you this needy? Does being wrecked make you feel this good?” Your groan makes your throat tighter around him, your eyes rolling back from his fucking and degradation.

It’s unfair, infuriatingly so, that this might be the most unbelievable great sex he ever had.

Osamu can’t hold back much longer, everything feeling just too good, his skin burning at the stretch of the tourbillion of emotions inside his chest, the captivating sight of tears dropping from your jaw and coating your long lashes as your face darkens by the lack of air, swollen lips stretched beyond capacity around his cock while you willingly let him go harder, faster, into your tight throat. There’s a warm sensation flowing from his limbs to his spine, melting his bones and weighing on his balls until it spreads over Osamu’s whole being.

He pulls back from your throat in time but presses his hands on your jaw and hair to keep you up and open as he coats your wrecked face with hot spurts of cum -- the final touch to the perfection of your wrecked image at his feet.

It lands haphazardly over your lips and even your eyelashes, tear-stained mess of a face marked by his essence. Osamu tells himself he could never feel anything towards you, but for a second there’s a hint of territorial pride at how you look -- and how it is all his doing. The twin is still swimming in searing pleasure as you lick over your lips, hands almost fondly landing over his as if you're assuring him that he can let go.

He does, trying to step back and slowly descending onto the ground when his knees give out. His eyes are glued to how his cum is dripping from your chin onto your chest, how you bring your fingers to sweep over it and end it by cleaning the digits with your tongue. If Osamu’s cock wasn’t so spent, he’s sure it’d swell right back up at the sight alone.

“Can’t say what’s better,” your hoarse voice is barely above a murmur, “the taste or the feeling.”

As you’re standing on unsteady legs and already fixing yourself while he sits on the floor questioning his life choices, Osamu feels as if he’d made a deal with the devil, and you’ll be coming back to collect his soul.

“Seems like the start of a nice partnership, doesn’t it?”

#osamu miya smut #osamu miya #osamu miya hq #haikyuu smut #tw dubcon #thesmutpilecollab #hq fanfic #osamu miya x reader

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eddiecabotsmile · 2 years

Note

Who do you think is the most to least handy around the house for the dogs? Like fixing a leak, painting the house, getting on ladders, etc. I just moved into my new house and I COULD NOT have done it without my dad!

congrats honey thats so exciting omfg (thisss kinda sucks but its the first thing ive written in a while - pardon me)

white - we all know that this man is daddy asf and has lots of experience in life. like larry's that boyfriend that you come to pick up and is like "whens the last time you got your oil changed sweetheart?" skip to larry bending you over the hood of the car, dangerously close to your neck, guiding you on how to change the oil properly. "thats it sweetie, just like that. youre a natural" so 9 times out of 10 expect for him to find something around your house that needs repair. you can call him over any time of the day, all he asks is that you bring him something to drink and "a kiss for payment" of course. but the guy is literally a teaching moment waiting to happen, he's happy to help!

blonde - early in your relationship there was a lot of fixing to be done like physically and emotionally. vic was contantly breaking the bed only to come fix it the next day (which you swear he did on purpose but he denies it). if he wasnt a criminal he'd be a damned good plumber. there is no leak that goes unnoticed. seriously, one day he just got up from the couch and threw off his shirt, heading straight for the kitchen. "if that fucking sink drips one more time im gonna lose it". so win win i guess- seeing vic underneath the sink wrenching those pipes in one of his wife beaters, just a little bit dirty from the grime, very sexy. best part is, he loves going down for you. if you need that sink fixed, or the bedframe, or couch, whatever it is! hes there to fix it no explanation (why did this have nothing to do with the question and everything to do with porn. bye-)

brown - if there's a youtube video on it brown has watched it. typically he's the one to break things, like hes known to be a big klutz. but having random knowledge from long rabbit holes on the internet is one of his only redeeming qualities LMAO. imagine your showerhead isnt working and hes standing in your shower while you hold the phone up so he can see. "okay okay wait pause there," he says turning his wrist on the shower head. "now go back i think i forgot the, shit. restart the whole video" alas he wont give up so easily. he will stay with you until he gets it down, he wont give up on his boo. brown really just wants to impress you. also he is tall and good for killing bugs

pink - pinky is TERRIFIED of heights so dont even ask, never ever. i can imagine you calling him in the middle of the night because your lights went out and you need some help and company, duh. and he shows up cranky and confused. some of his fave phrases are: "are you holding the ladder?" "well its fuckin' wobbling up here" "not funny get me down now" "youre about to be living in the dark if you dont stop". he's only a lil bitch because hes a lil dummy. an assertive dummy! with you tucked under his arm, he'll make all the calls to the electric, cable, and any other company you need him to. he might not be able to navigate the router but he can nag the electric company to come fix the lights. also its funny to hear him in the other room yelling "REPRESENTATIVE" into the phone

orange - freddy is the LEAST reliable and most definitely has almost passed out while painting the kitchen... hA twink he might not be the most handy but he is supportive !

#mr pink headcanon #mr orange headcanon #mr blonde headcanon #mr white headcanon #mr brown headcanon #daisy answers

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beann-e · 3 years

Text

Mha characters reacting to you forgetting things in the store

Read Part One Here

Deku

You’d been traveling down different aisles for hours so many that deku found himself getting amazed that the store could even hold this many

he found himself thinking that the store just had its own shape shifting quirk that could change the aisles anytime someone went down them

that was the only way to explain it I mean It had to have one right because how did you find this new brand of ceral and he didn’t

How did you just pick up this new candy bar that he had never known abo—

wait candy bar

he snapped himself out of his trance drawing himself back into the real world finally hearing your voice and seeing your cart that was filled to the brim with different items from the original plan that he didn’t even know you two needed

“ oh god babe look — they “ you jumped in your shoes as you reached up to the top shelf “ they have hot chocolate “

“ we um y/n— baby”

you turned to him with a smile on your face

“ we don’t nee— “

“ deku could you get the hot chocolate it’s too far in the back at the top my hand doesn’t reach that way it’s at an awkward angle “

he looked to the floor for a moment before turning his head to look at the hot chocolate biting his lip as he stayed in his spot on the ground maybe if he just stayed here he could lie and say he’d been hit with a glue quirk you wouldn’t know righ—

your stare sent chills down his spine as he hurried over to pickup the box setting it neatly on top of the rest of the things in the cart shaking his head when he finally seen everything you’d gotten

He could never tell you no

all he wanted was for you to be happy he loved seeing you and everyone else happy he hated to see people with any other emotion it made him feel like it was his fault regardless of who it was

family or friend

villian or hero

he felt like everyone deserved to be happy which is why he was following every order you gave him like a puppy

his little protests every once and a while falling on deaf ears

“ my love we don’t need crackers “

“ but I want to make s’mores “

“ but baby then you have to get the rest of the ingredients for s’mores you can’t just buy crackers “

he moved to grab the box carefully putting it back a pout on your face as he bit his lip shaking his head in defeat and holding it out to you and looking to the floor

“ yay —now where are the other ingredients for ‘ em do you know deku ? “

his last attempt finally hitting you when you two were standing in line to checkout “ y/n “

“ yeah “

“ baby can —how about I pay for the stuff ok “

you looked at him in shock

“ I don’t —you just did all the shopping and I want to help and let you rest “

he reached in his pocket as he maneuvered the cart to be placed In line dropping his keys in your palm “ here—go sit In the car ok my love “

he kissed your forehead as he moved up in the line

“ but—“

“ no I swear I got this just go you’ve been on your feet all day “

“ but dek—“

“ look how about this “

he moved to stand on the side of the cart next to you “ you tell me what you really look forward to that your buying and i’ll make sure to get that first ok so you know that I got it and whatever else is in the cart i’ll pay for last ok “

you smiled as you listed off the ten things you’d originally had a taste for which, is why you guys ended up going to the store in the first place

you just wanted to get some groceries so you two could have some food in your new apartment

Deku had finally agreed to move out of his moms apartment thinking that she was ok and had finally come to terms with him being a real hero

allowing him more time to spend with you after making sure she was taken care of

The hero association offered him a house with no down payment after they found out but they were hit with your boyfriend saying no and explaining how you would both like to work hard for everything you two get in the future

sad thing is you wanted the house

you kissed his cheek leaving the store him putting every item you just said on the check out register watching it move up as he started conversation with the lady in front of him

“ yeah being a hero’s actually harder than I thought “

he laughed as he watched her ring everything up “ y’know actually could you do me a favor “

she shook her head small smile on her face as he gulped “ might uh — might be a weird request bu— “

“ no we don’t do hero referrals here “

“ wait no I — wait hero referrals no I “ he laughed uncomfortable with how many people were around “ no I don’t want to trade companies — uh let’s not uh “

he looked around making sure no one heard as he set his arms on the ledge speaking soft “ let’s uh let’s not say that aloud ok y’know —cameras—my company — and yeah “

he cleared his throat “ what I was actually y’know talking about was “

“ we don’t do — “

“ please allow me to speak “

she moved to scan his items as he sighed and started over “ again this may be a weird request but can you um — can you just like take this and put it back “

“ oh yeah of course you should of just said that “ she cupped her mouth as she screamed to her friend “ hey mari can you put his item back for me “

“ yeah sure —an item where’s it at ?“

“ oh it’s um not just one ite— “

“ it might be this — I don’t know who eats canned fruit so — he’s probably putting it back “

“ no uh — “ his eyebrows furrowed in slight annoyance “ actually my s/o eats those i’m not putting them back “

he whispered under his breath “ they’d kill me “

“ ok then where’s the item “

he laughed as he talked to her “ well um I meant could you actually put this back “

“ oh yeah sure if it’s just like 4 thin—- the whole cart“

her eyes widened as she watched deku push the cart towards her “ s-sir the — that’s like our whole store in one cart “

he shook at the comment

“ do you know how long i’m going to be walking around and putting things back where they belong “

his head dropped in embarrassment as he turned red his ears wiggling in fear “ oh trust me I know —i should be applying for manager with the way I know every aisle by heart now “

she shook her head and grabbed the cart as she rolled off

“ w-wait actually “

he ran after her as he rummaged through the cart “ ok yeah got it i’m done “

she stood stone faced as she looked to the male in front of her in pure annoyance and hatred

“ you stopped me to grab the things to make s’mores from the cart “

“ my —my s/o wants to try s’mores “

“ you have to be the best boyfriend ever or something because you allowed them to get all this stuff and waste your time and mine just to put it all back “

the lady at the register moved to grab his card bagging his stuff and handing it to him “ the fact you even acknowledged this and love them enough to let them run wild in the store for hours —like a child says a lot “

“ their not a kid “ he snapped eyes hard on the woman in front of him only softening when he saw her scared expression

“ yes I do — I love them and just being in their company so I love our trips when they get lost in what their doing and I just get to see them happy “

he left the store hand gripping at the backseat as placed the bags he held there

smile nervous and shaky while getting in the driver seat starting the car

“ babe I coulda sworn I got more stuff than that “

he shuddered as he sweated “ I—wh—no I —that’s all you l-left me in the store with babe—with —with your stuff“

his nervous smile widened “ got —got it all “

“ huh guess you did I was kinda out of it anyways “

you looked to him he looked away afraid to make eye contact

“ oh yeah deku did you get the stuff for us to make s’mores I totally forgot to tell you I left it off the list of things I wanted when you asked “

he took a deep breath as he turned his left turn signal on ‘ thank god I stopped her ‘

“ I got it y/n your good “

you smiled as you looked to the backseat again “ damn it is really bugging me that I really only had so little in a cart that looked so full “

his grip tightned as he pulled into your apartments parking lot “ god it all looked like so much in the cart“

“ yeah that uh that happens to people —it’s—it’s like science my love “

you moved to open the door to the backseat as he screamed at you through the cracked window from the drivers seat

“ hey uh babe you can go in the house I got it “

“ aw your so sweet deku you keep doing nice things for me “

he shook his head up and down as he watched you walk off to your new shared apartment

his head falling to the steering wheel as the horn went off in a slight honk jolting him head only moving over a bit mouth opening in a silent prayer

“ god of all might I ask that you don’t allow her to find out — and shit—theres no way to hide thi —wait I didn’t mean to curse don’t hurt me quirk gods please —i’m just stressed “ he almost cried when he thought about it

“ god we even live in the same apartment now there’s no way I can keep a secret or even the fact that I put her groceries back to myself all night “

he cursed as he thought about everything you were so happy about “ please I pray I haven’t left anything important or seriously i’m gonna cry “

he sucked it up as he got out the car walking through the hallway and placing the bags on the marble top walking over to go sit down trying to get as far away from you as possible

hoping if he could go to sleep or even stay out of your way he may be able to get out of this

his body doing what he wanted by almost falling asleep until he heard your voice pout out in front of him “ baby — have you seen my advil “

his eyes widened” I swear I bought ‘em because my head was killing m— wait deku babe why are you crying “

“ I— I i’m worsening your headache — I— I i’m making y-you hurt “

your eyes opened as you hugged him tightly “ no no why would you say that “

his voice was whiny as tears fell “ I put all your stuff back and only got what you could remember —which was only 10 things because I knew the stuff you remembered was the stuff you really wanted “

he sucked up his tears as he looked at you “ but I got you s’mores— I put everything else back but got you s’mores “

he choked back a cry “ baby I put your stuff back “

your voice was hot as you moved away from him flicking his head after turning your body towards the door “ you put my stuff back—all my important stuff that i was looking forward to “

he shook his head as you went to grab the keys “ asshole “

you slammed the door his body shaking as he heard the car start up wiping at his eyes

moving to the door to lock it only to hear the door open wide and present you who fell straight into his chest that was blocking the entrance

voice muffled as you spoke “ I can’t even remember half the stuff I picked up “

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itslieutenanthawkeye · 3 years

Text

Day 2 of Jeankasa Smut Week 2021: First Time

"In the moonlight"

Ao3

Before they move out for college, Gothkasa takes Jean to the place where she wants them to have their first time.

Disclaimer: This contains explicit smut. Please make sure to practice safe sex.

Jean pulled up to her driveway at six, sharp. She didn’t like to wait long for dates, so he always made a point of showing up in time. Some of his friends always made fun of him when it came to all the things he did to keep her happy, but Jean didn’t care. Those guys would never even stand a chance to date someone as smart and beautiful as Mikasa Ackerman.

Besides, it wasn’t like she demanded to be spoiled to be happy; in fact, Mikasa was surprisingly easy to keep happy.

That was why he made an extra effort to keep her extra happy. A woman like her was not one to be left waiting, a woman like her deserved nothing but sweet, honest words and actions, presents, quality time together.

“Kirstein, I can’t believe you went ahead and got it,” she said as she stepped out of her front porch. She looked as lovely as ever, with her dark eyeshadow, pink cheeks, and purple lipstick. Today, she had her hair loose, which cascaded down her shoulders, dark as a raven’s wing.

Her clothes, however…Jean had to force himself not to stare. She wore a short, sleeveless dress that only reached her midthighs. The rest of her legs, she’d covered with pretty black stockings that were almost see through. On her neck, she wore a lace collar, while her collarbones and chest were exposed.

“I-of course!” Jean said, shaking his head to keep himself from staring. “We’ll be in college next month, won’t we? I thought this would be a good way to move around.”

They were going to move in together to an apartment in Trost in only a couple of weeks. Jean would’ve married her right out of school, but his family and her parents had insisted on holding off until they lived together for at least half a year to start thinking about long term commitments.

“I can teach you to ride it,” he said as he climbed off the motorcycle and offered her the purple helmet he’d bought for her.

Mikasa smiled when she took it. “How can I pay you back?”

Jean smiled back and put a hand on her waist to pull her closer. Her lips met his readily, welcoming and sweet. “Just keep looking pretty.”

“I was thinking about another type of payment.” She said, looking up at him with serious eyes. “Something that involves my body,”

“Stop teasing,” Jean cleared his throat, suddenly feeling hot in his face, but Mikasa’s lips were on his before he said anything.

He welcomed her mouth, parting his lips so she could put her tongue inside him, and sighed in delight when she put her arms on his shoulders and pressed herself to him. His hands went to her waist, and then to rest on her buttocks. When Mikasa pressed the spot between her legs on his thighs, Jean squeezed her butt in his large hands, feeling his dick grow inside his pants.

“Mikasa,” a sweet voice said from the door. She stepped away from him, turning to see her mother standing on the doorstep. “Honey, you forgot your backpack. And stop making out on here while your father’s inside.”

Mikasa took the backpack from her mom, and they exchanged a tiny smile. “Hello, Mrs. Ackerman.”

“Hi, Jean, darling,” the woman said, giving him a sincere smile. “That’s a nice motorcycle.”

Jean scratched the back of his head, smiling awkwardly. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“He bought it himself,” Mikasa said in a complicit tone of voice.

“To get yourselves killed, I’m sure,” her father said, showing up at the door with a newspaper in his hand and a frown. “Hey, Jean, how are you tonight?”

Jean cleared his throat; he always felt like a little kid when Mikasa’s parents were around. “I’m good, sir, how about you?”

“I’m concerned about you two, thanks,” Mr. Ackerman said, then his eyes went to the motorcycle. “Are you two going out in that?”

“We’ll be fine,” Mikasa said, standing on her tiptoes to give her father a kiss on the cheek. “Dad, we’re eighteen. Jean has a permit. We’ll be alright.”

Mr. Ackerman wasn’t satisfied with her words. “How far are you two going again, Jean?”

“It’s the sea festival,” Mikasa explained, going down the steps and walking back in Jean’s direction. And again, Jean forced himself to not stare at the swaying of her breasts as she went towards him. She must’ve been wearing one of those flimsy lace bras she loved so much; heavens, how much he longed to see how it looked on her (although he knew she surely looked fantastic).

“All the way to the beach?” her dad said, his eyes wide. A second later, he was shaking his head. “No, you’re not going in that to the beach.”

“Dad, we’re moving out in a month,” Mikasa said. “We’ve been on a motorcycle before.”

“If it’s a festival, people are going to be drunk on the way back,” he told her. Mrs. Ackerman was looking at her husband with a gaze so sweet, Jean wondered if he and Mikasa should just head out and let them be at peace. “And you’re not even using pants. What if something happens? You’re going to get so injured—”

“Dad,” Mikasa said, walking back towards her parents. “What do you want me to do?”

Mr. Ackerman peeked into the house for a second before giving her a pair of keys. “Take the car. Also, don’t get drunk.”

Mikasa took the keys and looked back at him to shake them questioningly, and Jean nodded in agreement. He loved her too much to say no to her, and besides, her father had made plenty of valid points. As much as he wanted to take her out on a ride on their new motorcycle, he didn’t want to risk her getting hurt. He loved her too much.

__________________________

Mikasa looked out the window for a moment, noticing the full moon peeking through the trees as they moved away from the city and into the highway. Taylor swift was playing on the radio, and she smiled when Jean started to sing the lyrics to Paper Rings in a low voice while moving his head to the rhythm. He was untangling her earphones, which she’d buried deep in her bag that afternoon, when the very last bell had rung to let them know school was over.

“That lipstick of yours is good,” Jean said absent mindedly. “It didn’t even smudge when you kissed me.”

“It smudges when you get your mouth really wet,” Mikasa said, casting a glance at her boyfriend. He wore a silly pair of trousers today, but the fabric of the pants wasn’t as thick as Jeans would’ve been, and Mikasa had felt the bulge in his pants when they’d kissed.

He wanted her as much as she wanted him, she was sure.

“So, how’s Eren?” Jean asked, giving her a sideways glance.

“He sent me a picture today,” she said, dipping a hand in her back to bring out her phone. “Look it up; he and Armin climbed the volcano today. Armin roasted marshmallows on the way to the top.”

Jean put his fingerprint against the home button, and the phone unlocked. They had access to each other’s phones not out of insecurities, but simply because it was easier that way. Things were ridiculously easy with him, and she adored that. She loved the quiet, peaceful certainty that she was loved by a man whose feelings would not change; she loved that she could love him back as intensely and as weirdly as she wanted, and he would not judge her for it.

“Hey, Armin’s face is all red, and he looks like a dumbass,” Jean chuckled, pointing at Eren. “They go to the islands next, right? It looks like they’re on vacation, though. Aren’t they supposed to be helping Grisha on his expedition?”

And to think she’d considered him annoying before. Mikasa smiled, then gave Jean another look.

“What is it?” Jean asked as she turned to look back at the road.

“I’m glad the charm didn’t work,” Mikasa said, recalling that repellent charm she’d given him on their first year of high school, in which he’d incessantly tried to get her to go out with him. She’d found him annoying, incredibly annoying, but they’d been young. Now, they were proper adults. Well, now they were both eighteen, and things had changed.

“What charm?” Jean asked, confused. “Did I buy you the wrong things?”

Mikasa shook her head, smiling more. He didn’t only not judge her interests, but also took an active part in them, he was interested in everything she did, and she was pretty sure he’d had a conversation with the great god of the underworld during one of their full moon seances. He was also smart, and he could stay in silence with her for long periods of time without feeling uncomfortable.

And wickedly handsome, especially now that his hair had grown a bit, and there was a stubble adorning his chin. He’d also grown taller. It all made him look more like an adult, and Mikasa trembled at the thought of being held by his muscular arms.

She clutched the steering wheel and took a deep breath, trying to not let her nerves get the best of her as she turned right, into a stretch of road she’d scouted weeks ago, a little while after Jean had asked her to live with him after school finished.

“This isn’t the exit, babe,”

“I know,” Mikasa said, turning on the headlights. The road was quiet, and the only sources of light were the moon and headlights from their car. They drove in silence for a little while until the road stopped abruptly in front of a thick stretch of forest. Mikasa parked the car in front of the trees, turning off the headlights.

“Mika, this isn’t the way to the beach,” he said, staring at the forest ahead. “What are we doing?”

“Jean,” Mikasa said. “Kiss me?”

She never had to ask twice when it came to kissing. He always said yes when she asked, he always did it enthusiastically. When his mouth met hers, his kiss was sweet, slow. But Mikasa didn’t want that. She pushed her tongue into his mouth, making him moan against her lips. She rubbed her tongue against his, moving it in circles as she caressed his hair.

“Mikasa,” Jean whispered, looking at the rearview mirror as she kissed his neck. “What if someone sees us?!”

“No one will see,” Mikasa said, then reached out to adjust the seat he was on. Jean fell backwards, kissing her nonstop. Her hands went to the zipper of his pants, searching in the low light.

“Mika!” Jean said. “Someone might come.”

“Yes, you will come, in my mouth,” Mikasa said as she searched inside his pants and released his dick. She gave his shaft a hard stroke; the light was too dim to see much, but she could feel it beginning to throb and harden in her hand. “Jean, let me make you feel good.”

Breathing heavily, Jean took a hold of her head and brought her lips back against his, and this time it was his tongue the one that was desperately playful. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Then, yes,” he moaned. “Yes, please, do anything you want.”

Mikasa smiled and straightened again, giving his dick another rub before tying her hair back in a ponytail. The sole action of her tying her hair made his dick twitch wildly, and it also made Jean groan from deep within his throat. She leaned forward, rubbing his shaft both hands. Jean was tall, and she guessed that played a part in how big he was, but it never failed to turn her own, feeling his girth in her hands.

She licked the base of his dick, then her tongue made the sweet journey across his shaft all the way to the head of his penis. There was precum there, and Mikasa licked it off his skin. Jean groaned, one of his hands was on her butt, underneath her dress and already looking for a way inside her panties, while his other was rubbing the top of her head.

He was holding back, she knew. He always held back when she gave him head; she understood he didn’t want to hurt her nor make her uncomfortable, and she loved that sweet side of him, but now she wanted something else to accompany that sweetness.

Mikasa parted her lips and took him into her mouth. The first time she’d given him head, she’d almost choked on his dick by the sheer size of it, but that had been a month ago. Now, she was used to the feeling of his cock against the back of her throat; her body had adjusted to that huge piece of meat he carried between his legs.

This time wasn’t the exception. Mikasa brought her head down, feeling her chin opening further to allow him deeper inside, and made a sucking motion as she came back up. Jean was breathing heavily now, and she knew, from the throbbing of his dick inside her mouth, that he would reach his orgasm soon.

She pulled out the dick out of her mouth and went to give his balls a lick. She put them whole inside her mouth, all the while rubbing him. Jean’s groans became faster, but she wasn’t sure if that was because she had his balls in her mouth or because the hand inside her panties had found her wetness.

“I’m going to cum soon,”

Mikasa let go of his balls and put his dick into her mouth again; she went down and up on it, one hand squeezing his shaft, the other squeezing his balls as she sucked on him. Jean’s free hand hovered over her head, but he withdrew it a second later.

She knew what he wanted to do, but she also knew he didn’t want to overdo it. Mikasa smiled, his dick inside her mouth still. He was so sweet.

She pulled out to look up at him now that their eyes had adjusted to the dark. Her hands didn’t stop rubbing him when she spoke; she didn’t stop teasing the tip of his dick with her fingers. “Go ahead, Kirstein, you know you want to do it.”

Jean looked at her with reddened cheeks, his eyes full of pleasure and longing. “I don’t want to make you sore,”

“I’m giving you permission,” she said, coming back up to his mouth to kiss him quickly. “You can do it. Please, do it.”

Mikasa went back to pay attention to his cock, and this time, when she opened her mouth and took him inside her, Jean grabbed a handful of her hair in both hands and brought her down all the way to the base of his dick. Mikasa moaned as he moved her head up and down in sweet, but passionate movements. One of her hands went under her shirt, to stimulate her already hard nipples. She crossed her legs, feeling a delicious throbbing between them. She wanted him so badly.

“I’m going to cum,” he groaned deeply. “Come up here, I need to cum. I’m gonna fill your mouth otherwise, Mika—”

Mikasa shook her head, and continued sucking on his cock. He didn’t take long to finish after that; hot liquid spread in her mouth and deep down her throat, the taste salty and familiar. She could feel her panties sticking to her skin now; less than ten minutes of giving him pleasure and she was already soaked.

When she straightened again, Jean held her face between his two large hands. He leaned forward and kissed her, uncaring about whatever remains of his bodily fluids lingered inside her mouth. She’d discovered he was naughty in that regard, and he never refused a kiss after she’d given him head. “Now, it’s your turn,” he whispered, licking his lips in anticipation. “Lie back, I’ll make you come all over my face,”

Mikasa shook her head, giving him a shy kiss on the cheek. “Not here,” she said, unlocking the doors.

Jean blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”

“There’s a spot not too far. Join me,” she said, giving him another quick peck on the cheek. Jean smiled, and she knew he’d never refuse her. He adored her, he adored her with every bit of his being. And Mikasa adored him right back.

_________________

She held his hand as they walked through the forest, walking with certainty, certain of where she was headed to. Jean followed her in silence; he was used to her little seances and moon rituals in the woods by now…he’d even grown to enjoy them, although he hadn’t enjoyed that one time in which that scary voice had spoken to him.

The clearing was forty-five minutes away from where they’d left the car, and it was a beautiful place by the side of a cliff overlooking the ocean. It had the shape of an almost perfect semi-circle, lined with tall willows and a small creek running on the westernmost part of it. “This is a new place,” he said, recalling most of their midnight seances were in the woods by her mother’s shop.

“I found it a while ago,” she dropped her bag in the middle of the clearing, where the moonlight illuminated the stretch of tall grass perfectly. Jean walked towards the creek; he loved it when she found little pockets of nature like this, but he also didn’t like picturing her walking that stretch of woods on her own. “I was with Armin and Eren, don’t worry. They came with me,”

Jean sighed; at first, it had only been him the one able to read her like a book. She’d learned this past year, however, how easy it was to guess his thoughts. “This is cute,” he said, pointing out at a series of mushrooms growing on the sides of the creek. “The colors are—”

Mikasa pulled him back by the arm, shaking her head. “Don’t touch anything,” she said in an urgent tone. “They will be angry.”

“Who will?”

“The forest spirits!” Mikasa whispered.

“I’m sorry,” he said, unsure which forest god or spirit she was talking about. He looked over his shoulder, smiling awkwardly at nothing. “I’m sorry!”

She giggled, leading him to where she’d laid out a thick blanket and a series of pink and red candles. There was a bottle of wine and chocolates, and some preheated pizzas “What’s this?” Jean asked, giving her a kiss on the temple, putting an arm around her shoulder. “Is this a romantic dinner for me?”

Mikasa smiled up at him; she was tall, but the more time passed, the more Jean grew, and now he was a full ten centimeters taller. He knew she didn’t like that cocky part of him, but Jean had to admit he liked being taller than her. “Sit with me, please,”

They sat in the middle of the clearing, under the candlelight and the soft silver light coming from the full moon above. Jean ignored the food and went for her lips; the purple lipstick was properly smudged after giving him oral, and Jean wanted to take the rest off with kisses.

“Jean,” she said, pushing him away a minute later. “Look at me,”

“I am,” he said, cupping her face with a hand. “What is it?”

Mikasa took a deep breath and, in the dim light, he was able to see her cheeks were of a deep shade of pink. “Tonight, I want you to make love to me here.”

Jean’s mouth fell open in shock. They’d started doing things other than making out a month ago, mind you, and he’d supposed they would make love the moment they finished moving into their new apartment. This request was new, a surprise he had not seen coming.

He’d showered, he’d shaved, he’d put cologne on…because he thought they would spend most of the night at the sea festival, and he wanted to look good while out and about with the most beautiful woman in the island.

“A-are you sure?”

Mikasa looked up at the moon, then back at him. “It is a perfect night.”

“Is this some sort of ritual?” Jean asked, suddenly concerned. “Mikasa, if you’re doing this just because of what those books say, I don’t want you to force yourself to do something—”

She put a finger against his lips, squirming and pressing her legs together. Her dress had gone up to her upper thighs, and from there he could see the wetness coating her pretty pink panties. “I saw this place and knew this is where it had to happen,”

“What are you talking about?”

Mikasa went to her knees, putting her hands on his shoulders, straddling his thigh. The feel of her soft skin was enough to drive him insane with desire. “Our first time,” she whispered, leaning forward to kiss him as she pressed her wetness on his thigh.

Jean had to force himself to think clearly. “Are you sure this isn’t some sort of ritual?” he asked her; he had fun joining her in her expeditions into the woods, but he’d never made love to another person. He wanted his first time with her to be special, he didn’t want it to be just the preamble to one of her moonlight rituals.

She lowered her face. “It isn’t a ritual. I want to make love to you, Jean,” she said, and he could almost feel the heat in her cheeks. “But I don’t want my first time to be in just an apartment. I saw this place, and I knew I wanted you here.”

“Why’s that?”

Mikasa lowered her head a little more. “It’s romantic,”

“And?” Jean asked, sensing there was still something she wasn’t saying.

Mikasa closed her eyes, her voice becoming lower even. “It reminded me of that Twilight scene, when they’re in that meadow…”

Laughter bubbled up in his chest, but Jean forced himself to not react loudly; she’d just admitted something embarrassing, and he didn’t want her to think he was mocking her. He grabbed her face with one hand, then chuckled. “You are so cute,” he said, using his other hand to firmly hold her against his thigh. He moved her back and then forward, and the rubbing motion made her moan out loud. “Mikasa, I love you.”

She blushed at that. “I love you too,”

“I’ll make love to you anywhere you want,” he said, brushing her hair away from her face. “I just want to know if you’re sure. We can wait a little longer, you know? We can come back here when the moon’s full again. I can wait—”

She pressed her mouth against his, moving back and forth against his thigh, as if she were riding a horse. The wetness was leaking, dripping, he could feel it dripping onto the thin fabric of his pants. “I want you now,” she said, licking the corner of his mouth. Mikasa rubbed herself a little more on his thigh, and Jean didn’t even care about the wet stain she would leave in his pants. “I want you inside me now,”

Jean grabbed her by the waist with both hands now. “I want you too, Ackerman.”

He’d wanted her for so long, it almost seemed like a dream to be in her arms then. His younger self had only wanted to take her out for a bite to eat, that was that…think that she’d kissed him now, and she was asking for him to make love to her…Jean smiled widely as his hands searched her dress and lifted it over her head.

He was the luckiest man in the world.

“Holy fuck,” he said when he saw the lace bra she wore, which had intricate strappings that were tightly adjusted against her pale skin. The lace was transparent, and when Jean caught a sight of her pierced nipples, he almost came in his pants. “When…when did you get them pierced?”

Mikasa smiled; in the month they’d started doing naughty things, they hadn’t seen each other properly naked yet, and she was clearly amused by his reaction. “Just a little while ago.”

Jean ran a thumb over each nipple through the fabric of her bra, making her moan. “They look so fucking good,” he muttered, running his thumbs over the nipples again, loving the way they perked up and hardened. “Can I?”

She smiled at him. “It unclasps at the front.”

Thank god for that, Jean thought. It would be much easier to make sense of the straps that way. It was a sexy bra, there was no doubt, but Jean was a virgin still. He hadn’t mastered the art of unclasping bras.

“You’re so beautiful,” he muttered, running his thumbs over her nipples, giving one of the little rings a pull, fascinated by her squeal. “Can I suck on these?”

Mikasa nodded, closing her eyes. She looked so beautiful, sitting naked on his thighs. Jean enveloped her pink nipple with his mouth and gave a little suck, feeling the taste of metal and sweat, fascinated by it. His girlfriend moaned, pressing her face against the top of his head, squirming even more on his thigh.

He sucked on it more, using his other thumb to stimulate the other nipple. “You’re perfect,” he whispered hotly as he moved from one breast to the other. “I could suck on these all night,”

Ah, he could. Her breasts were full and soft, and her nipples hard with the touch of his tongue. He wanted nothing other but to suck and lick them for hours and hours…but there was another spot that required attention, a spot he adored having on his mouth. Jean straightened and went to kiss her lips, teasing and squeezing her breasts and nipples the whole time.

“You’ve got purple lipstick all over your face,” she giggled, running her fingers across his mouth to wipe him. The purple was almost gone from her lips, but Jean didn’t care. She looked perfect with and without make up.

“You’ve got purple here, too,” Jean chuckled, giving her nipple another teasing, gentle pull. Indeed, he’d stained her pale breasts with some of the lipstick lingering on his mouth. “Lay back now,”

Mikasa climbed off his thigh and laid on the blanket, pretty and naked as the moon. Jean kneeled in front of her, running his long, lean fingers across her legs, caressing every bit of her body. She watched him with lust in her eyes, her chest rising and falling quickly, seductively.

He placed himself in front of her legs and parted them, revealing her soaked panties. He could see the outline of her slit from how wet she was, he could see her throbbing. His dick was hard in his pants, and all he wanted was to be inside her.

“You’re dripping,” he said, running a teasing finger alongside her slit. Mikasa shivered at his touch. “Can I take these off?”

She nodded, biting her lower lip.

Jean removed her panties painfully slow, enjoying the anticipation that grew in her face. She was so cute. “I’m going to make you cum now,” he informed her, parting her legs even more. “I’m going to lick you until you cum all over my face.”

“Jean,” she panted, closing her eyes. “Stop teasing me,”

He smiled wickedly, admiring the pretty color of her wet pussy. He gave it a tentative lick, running his tongue from bottom to the top of it, pressing the tip of his tongue on the pleasure bulge he’d touched in the dark before, when their kisses had turn into touching. Mikasa moaned loudly, and Jean was sure that they would need to get some sort of soundproofing for their apartment.

“You taste so good,” he moaned before burying his face in her wetness.

He’d learned to please her through trial and error the past month, but now he knew how she liked her clit played with, he knew what movements to do with his mouth to have that delicious juice of hers spill out of her pussy and onto his face.

Jean found the little bulge of pleasure and spat a little on it, then he enveloped it with his mouth and sucked. Mikasa drew in a breath, and a lovely moan escaped her throat. Jean sucked on it a little more, teasing the entrance of her pussy with his fingers as he gave her sweet nipples a tug and a squeeze.

He buried his face in his pussy, enjoying her taste, her scent, her sweet moans. Giving her oral was a feast of senses he would never tire of, and now they wouldn’t stop at just giving each other oral, or touching each other. Tonight, they would go all the way.

Jean moved his tongue with more intent, and introduced his index finger in her slit, just a little. She moaned louder; with his thumb, he made the same circular motions on her nipple as the one he was doing on her clit with his tongue. The juices were piling up on his face, and she was already dripping onto the blanket she’d laid out.

Jean straightened, wiping his face with the back of his hand. Mikasa looked up at him, her eyes demanding, telling him to get back to what he was doing. He smiled at her, giving her nipple a little tug. “Just a second,”

He took off that ridiculous looking yellow vest his mother had forced him to wear (to cause a good impression to her parents) and then he unbuttoned his shirt, certain he would get soaked if she kept leaking the way he was. Then, he came to his feet, struggling slightly with his pants and underwear. As he did so, however, he saw her rubbing her clit as she watched him, while her other hand was busy tugging on her nipple the way he’d been doing it before.

Jean leaned forward again, moving her hand away from her pussy. “Let me do it, please,” he said in a hoarse whisper, burying his face again. “I love eating you out.”

His tongue flicked over her clit, and his finger went back inside her. He ate her out hungrily, like a man who had not drank a drop of water in years. He didn’t even know where his movements came from; he acted on instinct, guided only by her moans, and Jean liked to think he did it well. Mikasa grabbed him by the hair, lifting herself off the ground and moaning loudly.

When she came, Jean opened his mouth as much as he could to catch all the wetness. And once his thirst had been satiated, he used his tongue to clean the inner part of her thighs.

She was breathing heavily by the time he came back up to kiss her, and she welcomed his lips without any qualms or protests. “I’m ready,” she panted, her cheeks of a bright red, her nipples hard against the skin of his chest. “I’m ready now, Jean.”

“Wait, protection—”

“I’m taking pills,” she said, then pointed at her bag. “There are condoms in the bag.”

“Very resourceful,” Jean said, smiling flirtingly. She’d known what she wanted to do tonight, and he had had no idea. He loved it, but still, Jean wished he could have prepared mentally for it.

He leaned forward, kissing her while his hand massaged her clit, making her wet to take him inside. This was the girl he’d loved for so long; this was the woman he wanted to be with forever. When he said he wanted to marry her, some people said he was young and that the world was larger and had many more women out there waiting, but Jean didn’t care about other women.

This woman was the one he wanted, the one that filled his soul with warmth. He was young, but he was so, so in love, he didn’t want to imagine anyone that wasn’t her. He wanted to love her, spoil her, he wanted to please her as much as he could.

Jean stopped kissing her suddenly. As good as he’d gotten at giving her oral, he had no experience with actual sex. Heavens, he’d barely held on for five minutes when she had sucked him off in the car. She was wet, but he knew he was well endowed. What if it hurt her? What if it hurt her and he only managed to last a minute?

He would never be able to look at her face again.

“Jean,” she said in a low voice, cupping his face between two hands. “Do you want us to wait?”

“Wait?”

She gave him a shy smile. “You look scared,”

Jean smiled, exhaling as he neared her neck to kiss it. “I want to make you feel good.”

“I know. And you are.”

“What if I’m not good?” Jean said, looking at her in the eyes. “What if I only last a minute? Mikasa touch me, I’m about to burst—”

She lifted her head and kissed him, her hands finding his dick and giving it a long, hard rub. “I’m new at it too,” she said, massaging the nape of his neck.

“I want to make you feel good. I’m scared I won’t,”

Mikasa frowned for a second, then considered his words for a minute. “I don’t care,”

“Huh?”

“If the first time isn’t good, we can do it again,” she said, using her sweet hands to rub him more, bringing all the blood back to his cock. “And again…”

“And again,” Jean finished saying, smiling. Mikasa nodded, then ran her hands across his torso.

“I’m ready,”

“Alright,” he said, parting her beautiful legs. The moon shone down on her, almost making her pale skin glow under the silver light. Her face, her shoulders, her neck and ears, it was all red, and she was heaving in anticipation. Jean rubbed the head of his dick against her entrance, and more wetness came out of her slit, making delicious, lustful noises. Fuck, she was so hot. “Tell me if it hurts, please.”

Mikasa nodded, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Jean kissed her mouth, then pushed inside.

_____________________-

She’d decided this would be the place in which they would make love weeks ago, on an expedition with Armin and Eren to find a good spot to watch the yearly meteor showers. Armin hadn’t liked it, since there were so too trees blocking the view and there was too much humidity that would put his telescopes at risk.

Mikasa had loved it, though.

And during the weeks leading up to the end of school, she’d dreamed about having him naked in the meadow. After reading about how the full moon increased sexual arousal, she’d determined that the festival night would be the perfect night to do it for the first time, before they left to live in the bigger city.

She hadn’t told Jean because she knew he would freak out the days leading up to it, and instead had decided to study her best to be prepared for the night. Yes, she had read books about first times, and she’d mentally prepared herself for the pain, for the awkwardness of it all.

So far, it had been perfect. But Jean had that beautiful, special talent to make her feel at ease and comfortable anywhere.

Jean went into her slow, his eyes locked on hers as he made his way inside her. Mikasa’s body opened to give way to him; there was a bit of a stinging that came with it, but it was nothing like she’d read in books.

In most romance books, the female lead always described losing her virginity as painful and uncomfortable, but there was nothing painful about Jean entering her. There was a bit of a discomfort and pressure at first, but it was soon overshadowed by the wetness, by his fingers rubbing her clit softly and slowly.

“You are perfect,” he whispered, kissing her forehead and then her lips. She heard her skin connecting to his, and knew that all of him was deep inside her.

“I love you,” Mikasa whispered, holding onto him with both arms.

“I love you too,” Jean replied with a smile, then kissed her again, his tongue rubbing hers. His mouth fell open.

“Can I start moving?” Jean asked, his mouth falling open, his breath erratic. She could feel him twitching inside, she could feel his girth spreading her open, adjusting her muscles to his size.

“Please,”

Jean thrusted into her slowly, pulling back and coming back down with his eyes on her, on the gentle swaying of her breasts. Soon, he pressed his mouth to hers, and then he went looking for her nipples. She had wanted to get them pierced for a while, and she’d done it as soon as she had had the chance and money. She hadn’t told Jean, however. She’d wanted it to be a surprise.

He sucked on her erect nipple, while his hand rubbed her clit with those circular motions she loved so much, and Mikasa cried out in pleasure. His cock was rubbing up against every nerve ending inside her and, sending waves of pleasure across her body.

She ran her hands over his back; he’d grown more muscular this past year, and she adored the feel of his hardened body underneath her fingertips. Her hands landed on his chest as he thrusted in and out of her, and Mikasa gave his nipples a little pinch, like the ones he’d been giving her tonight.

Jean groaned in pleasure and went faster, sending a bit more pain across her lower abdomen, which Mikasa ignored. She propped herself up on her elbows and caught one of his nipples in her mouth, sucking it the way he’d sucked hers.

“Fuck, Mikasa,” he said, and she looked up at him. Jean caught her mouth with his, and both of his hands went to cup her face. “I…need to cum…soon.”

His face was completely red, and when Mikasa squeezed his nipple once more, Jean rolled his eyes to the back of his head in pleasure. “Stop, please,”

“Why?” Mikasa moaned, kissing his neck. His thrusts were faster; she could tell he was still trying to be gentle with her, but he was failing at holding back.

“I’ll cum…I’ll finish too quick,” he grunted, reaching her neck to give kiss her.

“Why is it bad?”

“I haven’t even lasted ten minutes,” he said, grimacing. He wouldn’t be able to hold on for much longer, she thought.

“We can try again,” Mikasa replied.

“But, I want to give you a good impression and—”

So, Mikasa leaned forward, burying her face in his neck, and gave his skin a long, gentle suck that didn’t help him at all in holding back.

He grabbed a handful of her hair and started going faster; this wasn’t love making anymore, he was fucking her now, fucking her fast, fucking her hard. Mikasa buried her fingernails in his back, then moved onto another spot in his neck to give it a little suck.

“You’re mine, Kirstein,” she said in a low voice, feeling all the pleasure accumulate inside her loins. Two of his fingers were still rubbing on her clit; but it was obvious he would reach his climax before her. “You’re mine, are you not?”

“I am,” he moaned, his voice a mixture of lust and love she’d become addicted to.

“Then, do what I say,” she whispered. He was fucking her so good, so, so good, but it was clear he wouldn’t withstand it for much longer. They were eighteen; they had their whole lifetimes to make love to each other. “You can cum now, Jean.”

Jean thrusted three more times before he released all his pleasure; he moaned low against her ear, and she felt his cock throbbing inside her as he came. When he became very still and his breathing steadier, Mikasa held onto him, running her hands across his hair, enjoying the feel of his half-hard shaft inside her.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered after a while in silence. He lied on his back to stare at her, his cheeks flushed in embarrassment when he looked at the watch on his wrist. “Fucking hell, not even eight minutes? I’m a loser, I’m—”

Mikasa went to lie on his chest, hugging him. “I love you,”

“I love you too,” Jean said, wrapping her body with his muscular arms. “Mika, if you don’t want to see me again, if you don’t—”

She perked up, narrowing her eyes. “Why would I not want to see you again?”

Jean flushed again. “I was a disappointment,”

“I had already come once,” she said, giving the corner of his mouth a little lick.

“Yeah, but you made me come twice,” Jean said, closing his eyes. “I’m a disappointment. So, it’s okay if you want to break up,”

“It’s not a competition, Jean. And you’re overthinking things again,” she said, lying on her side, running her fingers across his nipples. She noticed how her touch made the little hairs on his arms stand up and smiled a little more; she’d found a weak spot. “I don’t want to break up…”

Jean sighed, relieved. “I swear I’ll make it up to you,”

“…I want to get married,” Mikasa finished saying easily. His mouth fell open, but the way she rubbed his nipples was enough to make him struggle at keeping his focus. She smiled again; it was mean to tease him like this, but she loved her Jean flustered, and hard…and she could see his cock beginning to twitch and throb again.

“You want to what?”

“Get married, Kirstein,” she said, leaning into him to kiss his lips. Her hands went to take off the condom they’d used, and she gave his shaft another rub, uncaring about the semen spilling down her hand.

“You are so naughty,” Jean muttered, looking down at his cock at the same time as she did. He looked back at her, with an excited glint in his eyes. “Do you really wanna? Get married, I mean?”

Mikasa nodded, pressing the tip of her finger to the tip of dick, from which all the precum was leaking out of.

“I’ve been wanting to marry you for a whole year,” Jean laughed, and Mikasa smiled back at him. She knew; she’d seen him looking up for engagement rings online. He hadn’t been precisely discreet about his intentions of spending the rest of his life with her.

She adored that.

“I want to make love to you everyday.”

“We can do that no problem,” Jean said, kissing her temple.

“And I want to make babies with you,” she said, sitting up and straddling him. Jean’s hands went to her nipples again, and she guided one of his hands towards the wet spot between her legs. Now, he was properly hard. “We need to be married to make babies.”

“We-we’re so young, though,” Jean stammered, and Mikasa leaned forward to kiss him, arranging her hips so the tip of his cock was pressed against the entrance to her body.

“Not now, Kirstein,” she said, giving him a bunch of tiny kisses on his stubble. “Now, we’re going to practice until we get passed those eight minutes.”

Jean chuckled, and she was glad to know he was past the initial embarrassment. “We need to put a condom on, then,”

“I want you raw,” Mikasa kissed him, then lifted her hips to bring herself down onto him. There was a bit of a stinging that came with having him inside again, but Mikasa welcomed it gladly. She liked how big he was, she knew it would bring her more and more pleasure the more they made love.

“Mikasa!” he protested, but he couldn’t bring himself to push her off him. “Your dad is gonna kill me if you get pregnant…fuck, that feels good.”

She moved up and down, slowly, getting used to the feeling of riding him. “You’ll finish outside. We’ll get a pill,” she said, brushing his lovely light brown hair away from his face. “Right now, we’re going to practice.”

“How much practice will I get tonight?” Jean asked teasingly, making her smile.

“A lot,” she said, kissing his lips. “And then more tomorrow, and the next day, and so on.”

“You’re my dream girl,” he said, whimpering against her lips in both happiness and pleasure. “I want to marry your right now,”

“We already are for all I care,” Mikasa said, pressing her body against his and starting to jump, finding a rhythm at which she could ride him comfortably. He was just so big. She didn’t need any sort of papers to know this was the man she wanted, nobody else. She’d been confused for a while before, but now things were as clear as the naked moon in the sky. He was hers, and she was his. And absolutely nothing would change that fact.

#Jeankasa Smut Week #Jeankasa Smut #jean x mikasa #Jeankasa #First time #Jeankasa Smut Week 2021 #Jean Kirstein #ao3 #smut #fanfiction #JeanMika #Mikasa Ackerman #escritos

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css1992 · 3 years

Text

Guilty Pleasure

[Porn AU]

Summary: Peter and Beck used to be a power couple in the porn industry, but after Beck dumps him, Peter is forced to start over. With no money, no family and nowhere to go, he doesn’t have much choice other than to keep doing porn, so he joins Just4Fans to get back on his feet and then one day he gets a very generous tip from someone under the username of YKWIM.

All the warnings listed on Part I apply.

Read on AO3

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V / Part VI / Part VII / Part VIII / Part IX / Part X / Part XI / Epilogue

-x-

The last couple of weeks of May flew by, soon June arrived and with it even more sunny days and warmer temperatures. Peter couldn’t help but think that his life fell apart in the winter, and as summer approached, it was slowly getting back on track. He was able to save a decent amount of money every month, his apartment was coming together – he even had a dinner table and chairs by the second week of June –, he was taking on more responsibility at BFF way quicker than expected and he was happier, in general.

He felt comfortable enough to make plans again – with the steady money he was making, he might be able to give up porn in a couple of years and he would still be eligible to apply for some of BFF’s grants and scholarships, meaning he may be able to go to college at 23, after all. Money would be tight for a while, but it was doable. He could always work part-time to supplement his income as well.

Summer also brought some unexpected good news. On a random Thursday morning, he was bombarded with messages on Twitter and Instagram from people asking where they could find his videos now that Beck’s channel was down. He was confused at first, but when he went to check, the channel wasn’t there, it had disappeared from the site.

He gasped. For a total of five seconds, his mind went wild, his heart raced, and his eyes watered. For those five seconds, he felt a mixture of happiness, relief and confusion, knowing those videos weren’t out there anymore, couldn’t be found, couldn’t be seen, couldn’t be remembered. But it was only for five blissful seconds. When his brain turned back on and the first rush of excitement died down, he realized that probably wouldn’t last.

That had happened before, when they first started posting. People mass reported the videos and the channel until they got taken down, because Peter looked very young at eighteen. They had to send a picture of his ID to the website for check several times, it was months before it stopped happening once and for all. Peter assumed Beck was posting videos of his new boyfriend, who he knew looked very young, so it was probably just a misunderstanding and only a matter of time until he got the channel – and the videos – back up.

Still, he allowed himself to count that as a win and couldn’t help but feeling giddy all day, to the point where everybody noticed his good mood – Ned, MJ, people at BFF and Tony.

Tony, who didn’t disappear. As days and nights and weeks went by, Peter stopped waiting for it to happen.

“Someone is awfully cheery today.” The older man grinned at him from the driver’s side that night, as Peter sang along to Ed Sheeran, because it was his turn to choose the playlist. Tony had picked him up from BFF and they were heading to his place for a quiet night in.

“It’s a good day, Tony.” He shot back after the chorus of Put it All on Me and the older man beamed, the corners of his eyes crinkling up.

“It sure is, kitten.” He turned up the volume and Peter sang even louder, causing Tony to burst out laughing.

At some point, he realized life was a little less complicated than he gave it credit for. He realized that if he actually gave things the precise amount of thought they deserved, not everything felt like the end of the world. The minute he decided to just let things happen the way they were supposed to happen, without overthinking every detail, life got so much easier.

He decided not to make the thing with Tony a big deal. Sure, when he thought about it for more than two minutes, it seemed like a huge fucking deal, he was basically dating Tony Stark, one of the richest men in the world, Iron Man himself, the man who had literately saved half the universe from extinction not even two years earlier. So, yes, that seemed like a big fucking deal, but–

But.

To him, he was just Tony. This charming guy who texted him daily to ask about his day and crack acid jokes about his business associates. This kind guy who sent him chocolates when he was feeling down and cooked him dinner every weekend and made sure to e-mail him easy and healthy recipes so he wouldn’t starve to death. This gentle guy who called him beautiful and touched him with such care that he forgot how many hands had left bruises on his skin before.

When he forgot everything Tony was supposed to be and just focused on everything that he was to him, what they had seemed so simple and pure.

He stopped worrying about labels, too. In the beginning, he kept stressing about what they had, what was expected of him, what he expected of Tony, but eventually, he decided none of that mattered. They made each other feel good, they made each other happy, they made each other better, all in all, whatever label he could put on their relationship wouldn’t make any difference, so he let it go.

Weeks later, Peter heard Beck had managed to get the channel back up, only for it to get taken down again in a few hours, then his Instagram and Twitter also disappeared. He wasn’t too surprised, and if he was honest with himself, it was fun imagining Beck losing his mind as he tried to fix it. After all, every day the channel was down, he was losing money. And his social media, specially his Twitter account, was where he promoted his content to thousands of followers, so losing that meant losing money as well, and if there was one thing Peter knew Beck loved, it was money.

He wondered what the fuck the man had done to piss people off like that, it was clearly a coordinated attack, but he wasn’t curious enough to try and find out what happened. He would rather watch from a distance, rejoicing in the satisfaction it gave him to imagine that maybe, just maybe, one of those days Beck wouldn’t be able to get the channel back up and would have to start from scratch, like Peter did. And maybe then he wouldn’t re-upload his videos – that part was a little harder to believe, but who knew, stranger things had happened.

When June came to an end, Peter was surprised with a notification from Tony on Just4Fans. He had almost forgot the man was still subscribed to his account there, they obviously never chatted on the app anymore, and when he opened the notification, his blood ran cold in his veins.

It was a tip.

A hundred thousand dollars tip.

He couldn’t fucking believe it. A tip? For what, a job well done? It wasn’t like Peter was – what did that even mean? Was Tony trying to say something with that, send some kind of message?

He decided not to call him right away, he was too – upset. The older man was picking him up later that evening for dinner, so he decided to wait. Whatever he had to say to him, he wanted to hear it in person. He wanted him to look in his eyes and tell him he thought he was his fucking wh–

“What is the meaning of this?” He asked as soon he got in his car, avoiding the kiss that came his way. Tony blinked in surprise, trying to understand why he got a phone shoved in his face instead of a kiss, and then he finally saw what that was all about.

“Oh, that–“ But before he could answer anything, Peter interrupted.

“I told you I’m not – Tony, why would you – this is so insulting!” He was honestly at a loss for words. They had been seeing each other for almost two months by then, things were going great, they met every week, they made apple pie together, for God’s sake, had he misunderstood all the signs?

“My God, Peter, that’s not that, I just thought – I mean, I’m a billionaire, you know this is pocket change for me, right?” Peter gasped, shocked, and Tony’s eyes widened when he fumbled with the door handle. “Wait! I didn’t mean – Jesus, okay, hold on a second, please!” Tony reached over him to shut the door before Peter could get out of the car. The young man turned to look at him with tears in his eyes and Tony looked incredulous when he leaned back and ran a hand through his hair. “Don’t just assume the worst, have I given you any reason for that?” He sounded hurt, which made Peter gulp. He took a few calming breaths and shook his head slowly.

“No,” he whispered, dropping his gaze.

“Ok, good.” He actually sounded relieved at that. “I am a billionaire, Peter, and this is pocket change for me, which means –“ he raised his voice a little, predicting a reaction from him that didn’t come, “I didn’t realize this would be such a big deal. For me, it’s like giving you, I don’t know, flowers. I didn’t mean this as a payment for whatever you think this is, I just thought this would be a good help. You’re starting your life now, you have that list of yours that you don’t let me see, you’re saving up money, you have your plans for college, I just meant to help. I mean, if we weren’t together, I would have tipped you every month, so I thought –“

“But we are together, Tony, I –“ he was a little calmer then, because that was, in fact, a reasonable explanation and he shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. “Look, I appreciate the gesture, but next time you mean to give me flowers, just give me flowers! I believe you have the best intentions at heart, but it’s just weird for me. I don’t want this to be about money. I just – don’t want that, okay?”

He gazed at the older man as he gaped at him, mouth opening and closing, but no sound came out for a while.

“I just thought – I mean, people usually –“ It was unusual to see Tony speechless like that, but the man shook his head and looked back at him, almost embarrassed. “I just want to help you.”

“Are you kidding me?” Peter poked him in the arm, trying to lighten up the mood in the car. “You’re teaching me how to cook. Yesterday I made an omelet and I only burned one side, I’m getting good at this. That’s a big help.”

Tony didn’t laugh at his joke, like he usually did, he just gazed at him with an unreadable expression, before leaning in to kiss him, which Peter gladly reciprocated.

“I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable,” he whispered, then, resting his forehead against his.

“And I’m sorry I was rude. It won’t happen again,” he promised, and he meant it.

After that night, he removed Tony from his Just4Fans, which came as a blow to the older man, who pouted and whined for about a week, only stopping when Peter showed up at his place one Saturday wearing Iron Man lingerie under his clothes – it was supposed to be a joke, but it worked surprisingly well for Tony.

By July, it became impossible to keep sneaking around Ned and MJ, as the dates became more frequent. Peter decided to tell them that he had met someone online and that they were getting to know each other. He told them it was nothing serious yet and if it became serious, they would meet him.

He did have to throw in a few lies to get them off his back – he definitely had to lie about Tony’s age to avoid certain comparisons, but he would cross that bridge when he got to it, if he ever got to it. He wasn’t sure if or when he was going to tell them the whole truth, but for the time being, he felt more comfortable keeping that relationship to himself.

He and Tony didn’t go out much, but when they did, it was always to fancy and discreet restaurants with private rooms; Tony was, after all, a celebrity for all intents and purposes, and at if the press got a whiff of them there would be no secret left to keep.

But staying in with Tony was far from boring. They cooked together and the older man taught him all of his grandmother’s secret recipes – Peter could never replicate them by himself at home, but it was still fun trying. They spent almost all of their time down in the workshop, though, where Tony had him do menial tasks, like screwing bolts or reaching for a part inside an Iron Man suit. He said his tiny hands were useful for his projects.

He knew he wasn’t really that useful, but he loved when Tony included him and asked for his help, even though he didn’t really need it. He was fascinated by everything the older man taught him in those moments and in turn Tony always looked proud and pleased when Peter put his lessons to use.

He didn’t mind keeping him company when Tony was focused on projects he couldn’t help with, he stayed there anyway, reading a book or watching TV on the tiny couch – Tony kept saying he was going to get a bigger one, but he didn’t believe it, he knew the older man enjoyed the fact that the only way they could fit comfortably on it was if Peter was lying half on top of him.

So after several weeks, they established a little routine of their own. Since Tony had a busy schedule and Peter was still trying to keep Ned and MJ somewhat in the dark, they didn’t meet that often on week days, but they always talked on the phone before bed. On Thursdays, Tony picked him up after his shift at BFF and he spent the night at his place. They had breakfast together on Fridays and then they met again every Saturday after lunch, and finally Tony dropped him back off home every Sunday evening, so he could have dinner with his friends.

In August, for the first time in his life, Peter had two birthday celebrations. One with his friends, when the three of them went bar-hopping and he got home so hammered he had absolutely no idea how they managed to climb the stairs, and another with Tony, when he decorated the workshop with balloons and put party hats on Dum-E and U.

“Surprise!” He yelled lamely, throwing confetti at Peter when they stepped into the workshop. The younger man laughed, delighted, as Tony hurried to the kitchenette and came back with something in his hands. “I know it doesn’t look good, but I promise it tastes good. Probably.” When Peter looked down, he noticed it was a large chocolate cake with ‘Happy Birthday, kitten’ written on it in bright pink icing. It looked so ugly, but it was so beautiful at the same time. “What did I do now?” Tony frowned, face falling.

He blinked a few times and when he touched his cheeks, he realized he was crying.

“I’m sorry, I’m just – really happy.” He grinned, pulling the older man’s face to give him a kiss. “Thank you.”

It was late October when Tony told him he had to go on a trip to China for two weeks, and even though it wasn’t his first work trip since they started dating, five months earlier, it would be by far the longest one since then, so it was kind of a big deal. Still, he didn’t expect to feel so affected, but on the days leading up to it he was so upset he couldn’t hide it.

They spent their last Sunday together wrapped up in each other doing absolutely nothing. They slept in, Tony brought Peter breakfast in bed, which was rewarded with a lazy and sloppy blow job, and they spent all day in bed, only getting up for essentials, like food and water. They didn’t even turn on the TV, they didn’t even talk much. They just held each other and exchanged slow, tender kisses until their bodies were too warm to stay under the sheets.

Tony ran a bath for them and got in the tub – it was big enough for eight people, but Peter made a point to sit in his lap, clinging to him like a koala. He felt Tony’s arms encircle him gently, as he rested his chin on top of his head.

“I’ll be home before you even have time to miss me, kitten.” He whispered, and those were the first words either of them had said in at least a few hours.

Peter didn’t tell him that was impossible since he already missed him, instead he just held him even tighter.

After the bath water went cold, they climbed out of the tub and Tony insisted on drying him, before dressing him in one of his own T-shirts, even though Peter had a multitude of spare clothes in his closet. He sat in bed, watching Tony pack a huge suitcase that reminded him just how long he would be gone for. He sulked a little – just a little – and that earned him a little kiss on his forehead, which was enough to undo the frown between his brows.

Finally, in the evening, Tony parked his car in front of Peter’s building, turning to look at him with an almost pained smile, before leaning in for a kiss.

“I’m gonna miss you,” Peter whispered against his mouth and felt when Tony’s lips stretched into a small smile. He pulled away a little, just enough to look into his eyes, and cupped his chin in his hand.

“I’ll miss you too, but I won’t be long, ok? It’s just a few days.” He pecked Peter’s lips one more time for good measure and the younger man nodded.

“Call me if you have time.”

“Of course, kitten, every day.” He leaned in for another kiss, this one longer than the previous, and Peter’s heart fluttered. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out, containing the urge to say those three words that had been trapped in the back of his throat for weeks.

“Have a safe trip. Let me know when you land.”

“I will, baby.”

Peter got out of the car and waved, watching as it disappeared down the street. He sighed and his heart ached, he already missed Tony and it had only been a few seconds, how was he going to survive fifteen whole days? It seemed impossible. It was crazy to think how far they had come since March, when they talked for the first time. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

He turned to go inside, but froze in place when he heard a familiar voice.

“So that’s why you’ve been ignoring me, huh? How rude.” He turned slowly to the left, only to be met with Beck’s cocky, arrogant smile, just a few feet away from him. “I tried calling, I tried texting, you’ve blocked me everywhere, I can’t even e-mail you anymore, it appears.” Beck walked slowly and leaned against the rails of the stairs to Peter’s building and the younger man curled his hands in fists, trying to control the urge to just run. “Long time no see, Petey-pie.”

He was paralyzed, muscles rigid, but to his own surprise, it wasn’t fear that he felt, or sadness. It was pure anger.

“I wonder why,” he answered quietly, but firmly. Beck’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline, before the smile was back in place. “How did you find me?” He demanded, because Beck had never cared to ask where Peter was going to stay after he kicked him out, so how in the hell would he know where to find him?

“Wasn’t easy, I have been following you on Instagram, some of your morning run routes seemed familiar, so I–”

“You stalked me?” He frowned, taking a step closer to the other man, who looked at Peter with indignation and hurt. He shook his head, softened those baby blue eyes and placed one hand over his chest, right above where his heart would have been if he had one.

“I just wanted to see you, is all.” He shrugged, dropping his gaze to stare at his own feet, and Peter wanted to roll his eyes. It was so weird watching his whole act now that the spell had been lifted.

“What do you want?” He asked, making the older man’s head snap back up, a little surprised by his cold tone.

“I just told you, I wanted to see you. I missed you.” He took a few steps towards Peter, who in turn walked backwards to keep his distance

“You missed me?” He scoffed, shaking his head. “Where’s your new boy-toy, you put him away so you could come play with me?” He cocked his head to the side and, for a moment, he could see the shock crossing his features.

“Pete… Why are you acting like this, it’s like I don’t even know you anymore...” His voice broke and he looked away, pretending to wipe away a tear. He wondered how the hell he used to fall for that.

“You don’t, Quentin. I’m not a lost little boy anymore, you should go back to your boyfriend. Or is he smarter than me and dumped you already? Is that what this is all about?” He narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest, and Beck’s mouth hung open like he couldn’t believe his words.

“I made a mistake, Pete. After so many years, I took you for granted, I couldn’t see what I saw the first time I met you. I couldn’t see how beautiful you were, how caring and loving you were, how loyal and reliable and – I don’t know, I was blind. I was so stupid, I shouldn’t have left you.” His eyes were wide, earnest, shining with unshed tears. His face was open, even his body language screamed honesty. Suddenly, he didn’t feel so bad about falling for his act – Beck was good. “Don’t you miss me, baby? Don’t you miss us?”

Peter snorted, shaking his head, he couldn’t believe the nerve of that man.

“You made a mistake, huh? So you dumped your new boy, right? If I were to go home with you right now, he wouldn’t be there, waiting for you, like a fucking plan B, in case this doesn’t go your way. Right?” It was his turn to take a few steps towards the older man. “Like I was your plan B while you waited for him to turn 18?”

“Peter, c’mon–“

“Is he there, Beck? Just answer me that. Come on, if he’s not, I’ll take you back right now, we can go home together.” He insisted, looking into the older man’s eyes, but he didn’t say anything, he just sighed. “Of course he is. If I said yes, what would you do? Tell him to pack his things in the middle of the night and leave? Would you keep all the money he’s made you and tell him to fuck off? Would you leave him broke and lonely and fucking lost in this world? Would you tell him that he wasn’t good enough and dispose of him like he’s fucking garbage?” His voice grew louder and louder, and when he came to himself, he noticed he was in Beck’s face, their chests almost touching, so he took a step back. “So to answer your question, Quentin, no, I don’t fucking miss you. You fucking ruined me!”

“I saved you!” And just like that, the good guy act was gone. His whole demeanor changed, the soft baby blues widened, his mouth was set in a sneer, he puffed out his chest to intimidate him, but Peter stood his ground. “Don’t pretend you don’t remember who you were before me. You were a fucking loser! An orphan, no family, no friends, no future! I took you in, I took care of you, I gave you a profession – don’t fucking roll your eyes, what the fuck are you doing now, huh? Rocket science? ‘Cause it seems to me like you’re still doing porn, and now you’re clearly branching out into prostitution, would you look at that!”

“You have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about!” He placed his hands on the man’s chest and pushed him away when he got too fucking close for comfort. He held his breath when he realized what he had done, afraid of the man’s reaction, but he just kept his distance.

“You know what? Fuck you, Peter. I was wrong about you, I thought I knew who you were, I thought I missed you, but you’re just a disgusting fucking whore, after all. You’re a dirty little bitch in heat who likes to get this loose hole of yours fucked by old perverts, I don’t know why I’m surprised, I mean, that’s why I dumped you, you were enjoying those videos a little bit too much for my taste. You weren’t even satisfied with two cocks up your ass, one in your mouth and a line of men waiting to fuck you. You disgust me.” He started walking away, and Peter wanted to say something, he wanted to yell at him and defend himself, he wanted to tell him he didn’t fucking enjoy it, he wanted to tell him that it was all his fault, he threw him to the lions, he let those men fucking–

Fuck!

He rushed inside the building and ran upstairs, eyes clouded with tears. He tripped and fell knees first on the steps, but he didn’t even feel pain, he just got up and kept going, kept running, trying to put as much distance between him and Beck as he could, even though it was irrational. Beck was gone, he walked away, he left him, he left him again, he wasn’t coming back–

“Ned?!” He knocked urgently on his friends’ door. He didn’t have his spare key, it was upstairs in his own apartment, but he couldn’t trust himself to go all the way up there and down again without having a full on panic attack. “MJ?! Are you guys home?!” He was really trying not to sound too desperate, he didn’t want to scare them, but it was hard controlling his emotions when his heart was hammering against his chest and he couldn’t fucking breathe.

“Peter?” It was MJ who yanked the door open. She had a towel wrapped around her torso, her hair was wet, and Peter felt guilty, but she took one look at him and quickly pulled him into a hug. “My God, Peter...” She whispered into his hair when he started sobbing uncontrollably on her naked shoulder. “Come on in, c’mon.” He heard the door closing behind him, but he didn’t let go of her, he felt like if he did, he wouldn’t be able to hold himself together.

He wanted to tell her not to worry, that she should go finish her shower and change, but he really, really needed her right then. She sat down on the couch, pulling him with her and he promptly laid down, burying his face in her legs. He couldn’t stop crying and sobbing and no matter how many times she asked him what was wrong, sounding increasingly more worried, he couldn’t get his feelings under control enough to give her any answer.

He was there for what felt like hours, when at some point someone lifted him from MJ’s lap and enveloped him in such a tight hug he couldn’t breath for a second, but he sighed in relief, it was right what he needed. Ned’s arms felt like home, it calmed him down almost instantly – his voice whispering that it was fine, everything was going to be okay helped a lot, too.

“I hate him, I hate him so fucking much,” he mumbled into his shoulder, God knew how much time later, and his friend just hummed, patting his back. “I hate that he made a mess of me and I let him.” He couldn’t hold back more tears when he said that, because it was true, it was so fucking true. He let Beck do whatever he wanted to him, he let him ruin his dreams, his future, his fucking personality, until he was nothing but a shell of what he used to be.

“I know, Peter, I know,” Ned soothed him, rubbing his back, even though he probably had no idea what he was talking about. “It’s okay now. You’re okay. It’s over”

“I made tea.” MJ’s quiet voice sounded somewhere from his right and when he turned to look at her, she was already dressed, wet hair up in a bun, with a mug in her hands, which she extended to him. He accepted it but didn’t dare to take a sip, he was positive that if he did, he would throw up, his stomach was all kinds of fucked up at that moment. “Peter, what happened? Did Star – uh, did your boyfriend do something? Did he hurt? ‘Cause I swear to God–” Just the mention of Tony being the cause of his distress made him sick, so he cut her off.

“Beck was here.” He sniffed, looking at the mug to avoid their eyes when he heard both of them gasping.

“Beck? Beck was here? Fucking Beck?” MJ screeched and he nodded.

“He was waiting for me outside.” He rubbed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to gather enough energy to have that conversation.

“What did he want?” Ned asked calmly, while MJ paced the floor, furious.

“I don’t know...” He shrugged, wrecking his brain to try and figure out what his motive was. “His channel got taken down a few weeks ago and he couldn’t get it back up. I heard he had to start over.” He hadn’t been watching that closely, but he knew something was wrong, even his Twitter and Instagram accounts kept getting taken down almost monthly, it was impossible he was making any money over the past few months. “He said he wanted to get back together, probably because he thinks us making up would be a big hit or whatever. I said no, of course. He didn’t like the answer.”

“Did he hurt you?!” MJ strode back to him until she was standing right in front of him, looking into his eyes. He was almost intimidated by her.

“No, he just… Said some pretty shitty things, is all,” he answered sheepishly, because he hated that that man could still make a mess of him with just a few hurtful words.

“Oh, dude. He’s just mad he’s lost control over you. Whatever he said, he just wanted to hurt you, it doesn’t mean anything.” Ned placed an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer, and Peter rested his head against his, sighing.

“I know. He was always like that, you know,” he whispered, as flashes of memories crossed his mind. “When I didn’t bend to his wishes, when I didn’t do things his way, he fucking–“ He squeezed his eyes shut, furious, because he had fallen for that again. “He tries to charm me and when it doesn’t work, he attacks me. But the thing is, he really knows what to say to destroy me. It just sucks. But it’s fine. I just need a moment, I’ll be fine.” He sat up straight and looked both of his friends in the eyes.

“Yes, you will. You most certainly will.” Ned patted his shoulder one last time, getting up from the couch. “Why don’t you lie down for a second, huh? I’m making dinner, I’ll even try one of those recipes your mystery boyfriend taught you.” Just the mention of Tony made him breathe a little easier, even though he wouldn’t be able to see him for a while.

“Okay.” He nodded, smiling softly. MJ took Ned’s place on the couch and he lay down, placing his head on her legs, as she ran her fingers through his hair. He sighed contently and closed his eyes, feeling exhausted. He was close to drifting off when he heard Ned gasp.

“Oh my God,” He breathed quietly from the kitchen and both Peter and MJ looked at him curiously from over the back of the couch.

“What?” She didn’t look too worried, but Peter was concerned about how pale he was.

“Ned, what’s wrong?” He frowned, watching Ned’s horrified expression looking at his phone like it was a murder scene. He raised his eyes and gulped.

“Peter is trending on Twitter,” he whispered, after a while.

“What?!” They both hurried over to the kitchen counter, and the first thing Peter saw when he looked at his phone was a picture of him and Tony in his car, kissing. As Ned scrolled down, more pictures showed up, but not only that, clips of his old videos were all over Twitter, people knew his full name, his real name, and they were making all sorts of comments. Iron Man, Tony Stark, Peter Parker, sex worker, prostitute and porn were trending.

The room was completely silent for a whole minute, before MJ turned on the TV.

“… appear that Tony Stark, former CEO of Stark Industries and retired Avenger, was seen kissing a young man in his car earlier this evening. The person in the pictures seems to be one Peter Parker, a twenty-one year old porn actor, who is also said to work as a prostitute…”

Peter’s heart sank to the bottom of his stomach, his vision blurred and he felt bile rising in his throat. He took a deep breath and got up from the couch, ears ringing, as he rushed to the front door. He heard his friends yelling something, but he couldn’t make out their words, and he just couldn’t deal with all that right then and there.

“I, uhm, I gotta go,” he called from over his shoulder, slamming the door shut on his way out.

As he ran upstairs, vision blurred by tears and chest hurting, begging for oxygen, he couldn’t help but remember his life fell apart in the winter. And fall would be over soon.

-x-

So... It appears that someone has lost the ability to write short chapters...

Anyways, only three more chapters to go! 🥳

Tag list (please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the list): @sadachmesarthim @iamnotparticularlyproud @staticwhispersinthedark @bluestarker @ whyisthisathingcb

#starker #peter parker x tony stark

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