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milfsloverblog · 1 month

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Good Luck, Babe! (NSFW)

Larissa Weems x fem!reader

A/N: I know, I know. I’ve got series waiting for an update blah blah blah. But when something sparks your inspiration, you just got to get to work!! This one’s - obviously - inspired by the Chappell Roan song. This is full on ANGST, HURT NOT COMFORT, you’ve been warned! One shot, no second chapter to fix it all. We love the pain. Hope you’ll enjoy my darlings and don’t forget to like and reblog if you do!! <3

Larissa had been startled awake by a sudden loud noise, her heart pounding in her chest as her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the bedroom she shared with the banshee that slept next to her.

Not a literal one - although that might have been a better choice, Larissa thought as she turned her head towards the man she’d been sharing a bed with for over a decade and nearly two. Ha, there it was again. That loud snoring that kept her awake for nights on end. A banshee, that’s what he sounded like.

She sat up, carefully swinging her legs on the side of the bed and trying her best not to wake him up - somehow the snoring was still more bearable than his incessant yapping when he was awake.

Larissa took a deep breath, rubbing her hands on her face as she contemplated what to do with the rest of her night. She had a little over four hours left of sleep before her alarm would go off, signifying the beginning of her working day. She brushed her fingers through her silver hair, holding back a whine when some of it got stuck in her wedding ring.

Oh bitter irony, she thought as she pulled away to inspect the golden ring on her left hand.

The banshee snored again, pulling Larissa out of her thoughts and nearly making her consider squeezing a pillow on her husband’s face. Instead, she quietly got out of bed, throwing a silky robe on her silkier shoulders and tying it close as a shiver ran down her spine.

Things could have been so different.

As her hand brushed down the wooden handrails of the main stairs, Larissa couldn’t help but reminisce about her younger days. She thought of Nevermore when she was only a student there and not in charge of it. The Poe cup, the Rave’N, the feeling of soft hands on her skin. Larissa stopped dead in her tracks. She could have sworn that she had felt it, right there in the middle of the staircase, the ghost of soft hands on her midriff. She took a deep breath and hurried down the stairs on the tip of her toes, still not wanting to wake up the banshee that rested upstairs.

Turning the light on as she made her way to the kitchen, Larissa walked straight to the sink and knelt to access the cupboard below it. She didn’t even look at the bottles, grabbing the first one that met her hand and pulling it out of the cupboard. It would be a good one anyway, her darling husband always made sure of it. Grand wine, grand house (that she had been against buying), grand life, grand wife. The thought left a bitter taste in Larissa’s mouth and she hurried to open the bottle, eager to replace the bitterness of a wasted life with the bitter taste of an aged Chianti.

As she sipped on her freshly poured wine, Larissa’s mind transported her back to a night twenty years ago.

“They’ll catch us!” Larissa half-whispered as her hand squeezed yours.

“Everyone’s at the Rave’N, they won’t even notice we’re gone. Come on, even if they did, Nevermore’s brightest student and its biggest weirdo? No one would speculate that we’re together. They’ll think that you went to bed early, as a bright student should, and that I’m hiding in some dark corner all alone like a loser.” You joked, pushing the door to your room open.

“I’m not Nevermore’s brightest student, Morticia is,” Larissa said, her crimson-painted lips falling in a soft pout.

“Ha, so nothing about me not being a weirdo or a loser?” You feigned being hurt before letting out a chuckle. “Morticia doesn’t have half of your intelligence nor a quarter of your beauty. She’s got a big pair of tits, that’s all.” You shrugged, closing the door behind you.

Something churned inside Larissa’s stomach, the early stirrings of jealousy making her face grow hot at the mere thought of you finding Morticia somewhat attractive.

“Kiss me,” she demanded.

“Wait, I’ve got something-“You didn’t have time to finish your sentence as Larissa's lips crashed against yours, bruising and demanding.

Larissa opened her mouth and you quickly followed, allowing her to thrust her tongue against yours in a dance you two had been rehearsing for months. Her lips moved down your chin and up your jaw, leaving a trail of red marks that you’d have to scrub at in the morning.

“Riss-“ you whined when she nipped at the thin skin of your neck, gently pulling away from her. “Wait, wait-“

Larissa reluctantly let go of you, wiping the corner of her mouth with her thumb and clearing her throat.

“I want to take my time,” you explained. “We always do this so quickly, most of the time I can’t even get you fully naked. Let’s take our time, everyone will be busy downstairs for another couple of hours.”

Larissa pushed a small smile and nodded. She sat down on your bed and watched as you pulled something from underneath it.

“How on earth did you get that?!” She squealed, nearly ripping the green bottle from your hand.

“Borrowed it from the kitchen,” you shrugged.

“You know that borrowing means you’ll give it back at some point, right?” Larissa mumbled as she read the tag on the bottle.

“Yeah, whatever. I’ll buy some cheap bottle from the supermarket downtown and put it back in the kitchen.”

Larissa let out a snorting laugh and shook her head.

“Do you even know how much this is worth?” She said, gesturing with the bottle in her hand.

“Now don’t be rude,” you raised an eyebrow. “You’re the one that comes from a rich family, not me.”

“Shut up and pour us a glass, if you have anything to open the bottle with!” Larissa pouted. You knew she hated being reminded that she came from money, but it simply was the truth.

“Who do you take me for, a rookie?” You huffed as you opened your bedside table only to pull out a bottle opener and wave it victoriously in Larissa’s face, making her laugh.

What happened next was a little blurry in Larissa’s mind. She remembered sharing the wine, drinking straight from the bottle as you laughed about everything and nothing. She remembered spilling wine on the awfully expensive gown her father had bought her for the Rave’N, and then soft hands helping her out of it. Her head between your thighs, yours between hers. She remembered falling asleep in your arms and waking up still in your arms the next morning. And that had been the breaking point for Larissa. Her parents would never agree to this, to her having this sort of feelings for women, for you. She had to nip this in the bud before it went too far. And so she did.

Larissa made sure to avoid you like the plague after that night, going as far as becoming friends with Morticia Frump and her clique even though she knew how much you disliked them. And then came Henry. He wasn’t Larissa’s type, obviously. But he would please her parents and so she let him court her until they officially became a thing. Then everything had gone so fast, her final year at Nevermore, the graduation, Henry proposing.

“Larissa!” You ran after her inside Nevermore after witnessing Henry’s proposal in the yard. What a dick move, proposing right after she had graduated. Nice way to steal her spotlight.

Larissa spun on her heels, fidgeting with the new ring that felt unfamiliar on her left hand.

“What do you want?” She sighed, trying her best to keep her eyes off of you.

“You can’t do that,” you said, shaking your head. “You can’t marry him, you don’t even love him! Larissa, please…”

“Please what?” Larissa snapped. “What did you think? That this fling we had would turn into more than it was? Don’t be ridiculous.”

You swallowed your pain, refusing to let your heart burst at the seam.

“When you wake up next to him in a decade or two,” you said, fighting against the lump in your throat. “And you’ll realise that you’re nothing more than his wife, you’ll think of me. You’ll think of everything we shared all of those years ago.“

It was Larissa’s turn to swallow thickly as she took in your words. Marrying him meant security, a normal life. But it also meant losing her freedom, Larissa knew that.

“Say something,” you pleaded, hoping that it would be enough for your ex-lover to change her mind.

“I’m sorry,” she simply replied, holding her head high as she always did in any situation - good or bad. “You knew this would come to an end.” She added before giving a small nod and walking past you, the sound of her kitten heels echoing down the corridor.

She hadn’t seen you since. You hadn’t replied to the wedding invite she had sent. She had hoped you’d show up, she’d hoped to prove to you that she had made the right choice. That she was happy in the life she had picked for herself. That she had moved on. But she hadn’t really moved on, had she? Drinking herself half-blind almost two decades after she’d last seen you. Maybe you had moved on. Surely you had.

When Larissa was pulled back to reality, to the empty kitchen and the emptier glass of wine in her hand, tears had started running down her cheeks which she hastily wiped away.

She had thought about reaching out more times than she would ever admit. But she never dared. Not when she had found your Facebook and you seemed so happy with that woman on your profile picture. She would never dare reach out to you for she knew that you would tell her what you always did whenever she had to deal with the consequences of her actions.

I told you so, Larissa. You know I hate to say it but I told you so.

And Larissa wished, she wished she had listened to you. She wished she could go back in time and she wished she could forget you.

But Larissa knew - she would have to stop the world to stop the feeling.

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taglist: @weemssapphic, @im-a-carnivorous-plant, @dingdongthetail, @azu-zu, @gwensfz , @erablaise-blog , @rainbow-hedgehog , @renravens , @kaymariesworld , @niceminipotato , @agathaandgwenslesbian, @witchesmortuary , @notmeellaannyy , @gwenilover, @weemswife , @m-0-mmy-l-0-ver33 , @redkarine , @women-are-so-ethereal , @opheliauniverse , @willisnotmental , @raspburrythief , @vigelvictoria, @fictionalized-lesbian , @weems13 , @lynn1ebug, @ness029 , @geekyarmorel , @h-doodles , @cxndlelightx , @m1lflov3rrr , @winterfireblond , @nocteangelus15 , @aemilia19 @ladylarissaweems @spacetoaim22 @1-800-milfdilf @vendocrap8008 @opalthefrog @jkregal l @gela123 @lilfartbox1 @raya0jpg @xuukoo @bellatrixsbrat @sadsapphic-rose @dumbasslesbi @larissaoftarthweems @larissalover3 @friskyfisher @thesamesweetie @fliesinmymouth @imprincipalweemspet @forwhichidream11 @amateurwritescm @imlike-so-gaydude @sugipla @lvinhs @http-sam @franouo @mysteriouslysapphic @gweninred @a-queen-and-her-throne

#gwendoline christie #larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #principal weems #no beta we die like larissa #larissa weems x y/n

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writers-potion · 4 months

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Tips For Creating Creepy Locations

Places can be a source of inspiration for stories. Every story needs a backdrop, and for dark fiction/horror stories, location is important for building tension and eerie atmosphere.

Select the Setting

Places that creep you out

Weird places. A diamonds mine, a dinosaur museum, a cruise ship, a children's petting zoo.

Supposedly safe places. A child's nursery, a family kitchen, a school playground.

Isolated places. A rowing boat on a lake, a deserted farmhouse, etc.

Enclosed places.

Look For Inspiring Pictures

A town, street, or even a large mansion can be difficult to map out just in your head. I use Pinterest to search and save pictures of locations I find helpful :)

Describe the Setting

Describe a small visual detail that is seemingly harmless, but has dark implications/foreshadowing effects

- weeds poked through the cracks in the broken paving-slabs. - the pavement was slippery with rain and rotten leaves. - the tiles were grime-streaked and flecked with mold. - below the rick velvet curtain, the wallpaper peeled.

Mention several smells.

- the air smelled of nicotine and stale beer. - the room smelled of pizza and unwashed socks. - the fresh scents of salt and seaweed mingled with the odour of rotting fish. - the smell of bleach warred with the odors of vomit and piss.

Sounds serve to increase suspense, so use a mix of ominous sounds for tension.

- a car door slammed, and a motor whined. - an owl hooted in the distance. - ceiling fans whirred, cutlery clanked, and the espresso-maker hissed with steam.

The source and quality of light adds atmosphere. It also determines the level of darkness your MC is acting in.

- two beams of white light pierced the darkness. - a silver of sunlight peaked through the crack between the curtains. - houses gleamed white in the late afternoon sun. - shafts of torchlight struggled through the vicious darkness.

Describe how temperature affects the characters.

- relentless chills gnawed through the thin layer of her jacket. - gusts of icy wind drove sleet into my face. - she tried to rub warmth back into her stiff fingers.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

💎If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram!

💎Before you ask, check out my masterpost part 1 and part 2

💎For early access to my content, become a Writing Wizard

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vanteguccir · 3 months

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── ୨୧ !　𝗞𝗜𝗦𝗦 𝗠𝗘

　　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N and Matt are just friends that act like they’re in a loving relationship.

WARNING: None. (Friends to lovers trope)

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anon

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Matt had always believed that change was the only constant in life. He had learned this the hard way when he and his brothers finally decided to uproot their lives from the tranquil suburbs of Boston to the bustling, sun-soaked streets of Los Angeles.

LA was vast and vibrant, a stark contrast to the quiet neighborhoods they were used to. It was in this whirlwind of new beginnings that Matt met Y/N.

Y/N lived next door. The first encounter was serendipitous, almost as if fate had decided to intervene. Matt was struggling to carry a heavy box from the moving truck, screaming like crazy for help to Nick or Chris - and being successfully ignored - when Y/N appeared, offering a friendly smile and a helping hand. That simple act of kindness sparked a connection that would grow deeper over time.

From the very start, their friendship was unlike any other. There was an immediate, unspoken understanding between them. Matt felt a sense of ease around Y/N that he hadn’t experienced with anyone else, not even his brothers.

One of the most defining aspects of their friendship was their mutual love language: touch. It wasn’t something they discussed; it simply came naturally. A gentle touch on the shoulder, a comforting hand on the back, a little bit of cuddling, or a playful nudge, these small gestures were a constant, reassuring presence in their interactions.

Matt found himself gravitating toward Y/N whenever they were together. He cherished the way Y/N would drape an arm around his waist as they walked down the street during fall days, or how they would sit so close on the couch that their legs would almost be on top of the other.

It was these moments of physical closeness that made the both of them feel truly understood and cared for.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The bright winter sun was high in the sky, casting a golden glow into the car, illuminating the black leather seats. The car windows were rolled down, letting in the slightly cold breeze and the distant sound of other cars rushing around in the - always - busy streets of LA. Matt was behind the wheel, his hands relaxed on the steering wheel as he guided the car along the venue heading to Target, ready to buy the items he and his brothers would use in Wednesday's upcoming video.

Y/N was in the passenger seat, her feet propped up on the seat so that her legs were bent and her thighs kept pressed against her chest, a carefree smile playing on her lips. The radio played a soft indie, melodic tune, adding to the serene atmosphere.

As they drove, Y/N’s hand found its way to Matt’s arm, a casual and unconscious gesture. Her fingers decorated with pink nails lightly traced patterns on his hoodie-covered skin, the touch gentle and familiar. Matt glanced over and smiled, a warm feeling spreading through him. He was used to Y/N’s touch by now; it was as natural as breathing.

"Look, Matt, that restaurant I sent you on Instagram! I really want to come here, they only do Arabic food, you know?" Y/N exclaimed, pointing out the window to the tall, large restaurant, the concrete walls in a warm shade of red with a silver sign that shined below the daylight. Her excitement was contagious, and Matt felt his heart swell with affection for his best friend.

"We could come this Friday. If you want to, princess." Matt agreed, his voice soft. He reached over and squeezed Y/N’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before returning his focus to the road. Y/N’s fingers lingered on his, her touch very soft as she traced the lines of his palm with the tip of her fingers.

They drove in comfortable silence for the last few minutes of the route, the only sounds being the hum of the engine and the occasional horn coming from the cars around. While singing the soft melody of one of Billie's songs, Y/N’s hand moved to Matt’s forearm, her fingers lightly brushing up and down, a soothing rhythm that Matt found incredibly calming.

Without thinking, Y/N’s hand slipped to the back of Matt’s neck, her fingers threading through his hair. Matt leaned into the touch, a contented sigh escaping his lips.

"Oh, we're here!"

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Matt was sprawled out on the couch, enjoying the tranquility that followed a satisfying lunch. The living room was bathed in the soft glow of the afternoon sun, which streamed in through the large windows on the right side of the large sofa, casting a warm and inviting light over everything.

The sound of Nick's fingers tapping over the keys on his MacBook as he edited their next YouTube video was one of the only sounds that interrupted the comfortable silence.

Matt had his phone in hand, idly scrolling through TikTok. He chuckled at the occasional funny video, the sound mingling with the faint hum of the air conditioning. He was relaxed, content to let the day pass by in this peaceful state.

Y/N was in the kitchen, putting away the leftovers from their lunch, setting aside a significant portion for Chris, knowing he would return home hungry after his outing with Sam, the aroma of the meal newly cooked still lingering in the air.

As Y/N finished up, she wiped her hands on a dish towel and made her way into the living room.

Matt looked up as soon as he noticed a new presence approaching, a soft smile spreading across his face almost automatically.

"Hey." He said, his voice warm and inviting. The boy patted the space on the grey couch next to him, signaling for Y/N to join him. "Come here."

Y/N didn’t need any further encouragement. She crossed the room - stroking Nick's right shoulder quickly as she passed him - and settled onto the couch, her body naturally gravitating towards Matt. Without a word, Matt lifted his arm and gently guided Y/N’s head to rest on his thighs.

As Y/N nestled her head into Matt’s lap, a content sigh scaped through her lips. Matt’s free hand found its way to Y/N’s hair, brushing away loose strands over her eyes and cheeks, his fingers beginning to gently scratch her scalp softly. The rhythmic motion was soothing, and Y/N felt a wave of relaxation wash over her body. Her mind started to feel like floating.

Matt continued to watch TikToks, his focus still on the screen while his right tumb scrolled from one video to another, but his touch remained constant and affectionate. He didn’t even realize how naturally his fingers moved through Y/N’s hair, the light scratching and gentle strokes a habitual way of expressing his care.

Y/N’s eyes fluttered closed, the combination of Matt’s touch and the post-lunch drowsiness lulling her into a state of blissful relaxation. The soft rise and fall of Matt’s chest, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and the gentle pressure of his fingers all blended together, creating a cocoon of comfort.

Until she finally dozed off.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The gentle glow of the TV cast a soft light across Matt's room, creating a cozy and inviting atmosphere, the blinds blocking the moonlight from outside the house. Y/N lay curled up on his bed, nestled under the duvet, watching a random, soft movie, her body covered in Matt's blue striped pajamas.

The plot was slow, the characters spoke in hushed tones, and the overall ambiance was soothing. It was the perfect background for drifting into a peaceful slumber.

Y/N’s eyelids grew heavier with each passing minute, her mind teetering on the edge of sleep. She fought to stay awake, hoping to see Matt after his hours of recording with his brothers before giving in to the lull of the movie. The faint sound of footsteps against the floor and the jingling of car keys reached her ears. Matt was home.

A few moments later, the bedroom door opened quietly, and Matt stepped inside. He paused in the doorway, taking in the sight of Y/N with her eyes half-closed, looking so peaceful and serene. His heart swelled with care as he softly closed the door behind his back, careful not to make any noise, the click echoing through the four walls.

"Hey, princess, are you still awake?" Matt whispered, his voice gentle and filled with warmth, wanting to make sure before making any noise that would actually wake her up.

Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, lifting her head on Matt's pillow - the strands of her hair spilling over the cotton pillowcase - and looking at him, smiling sleepily.

"Barely." She replied, her voice a soft murmur. She lifted the edge of the duvet, a clear invitation for him to join her. "Come lay with me. Pretty please."

Matt didn’t need any further prompting. He could shower after. He kicked off his shoes and took small steps towards his bed, the sound of his white sock-covered feet sounding mutely against the floor. The boy slipped into bed beside Y/N, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight.

As he settled in, Y/N turned towards him, her eyes sparkling with drowsy affection.

"Come here, petal." Matt gently pulled her closer, wrapping one arm around her torso and positioning her head on his shoulder. He could feel the soft, steady rhythm of her breathing against his chest. With his other arm, he draped the duvet over them both, cocooning them in warmth.

He wrapped his arm more securely around her, his hand resting on her back, traveling to the hem of her - his - pajama top, delving beneath the fabric and up the warm skin that seemed to embrace the cold of his hand, fingers lightly tracing soothing circles. He felt Y/N’s body relax further into his embrace, their legs naturally tangling together, creating a comforting sense of intimacy.

Matt buried his face in Y/N’s hair, inhaling the familiar, comforting scent that always calmed him. He pressed a series of light, tender kisses to the top of her head, moving down to her temple and then to her cheek.

Y/N let out a contented sigh, her eyes drifting closed as she nestled even closer to Matt. She could feel the steady beat of his heart, a soothing reminder of his presence. Matt’s fingers continued to draw gentle patterns on her back, a comforting rhythm that lulled her further towards sleep.

"Y'need to tell me about your day, Matty." Y/N whispered against his chest, her voice barely audible, her words slurred with drowsiness.

"Tomorrow." He whispered back, feeling his best friend finally succumbed to sleep.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The gentle hum of conversation filled the air as Matt and Y/N strolled through the farmer’s market - one of the activities that Matt started to love doing after meeting Y/N. Stalls lined the street, brimming with fresh produce, homemade crafts, and delicious baked goods. The vibrant colors and lively atmosphere added to the charm of the day.

Matt and Y/N walked side by side, their hands occasionally brushing against each other. They had done this many times before, but today, something felt different. There was a lingering warmth in every accidental touch, a heightened awareness that neither of them could quite explain.

"Look at these strawberries!" Y/N exclaimed, stopping at a stall overflowing with ripe, red fruit. She picked up a small basket and held it out for Matt to see. "Aren’t they beautiful?"

Matt smiled, his eyes not on the strawberries but on Y/N’s face, lit up with excitement.

"They’re." He said softly, nodding slightly. "Let’s get some, yeah?"

As they continued to browse, Y/N slipped her hand into Matt’s without thinking, their fingers intertwining naturally. Matt’s heart skipped a beat at the simple, already familiar gesture, but today, it felt more significant. He glanced down at their joined hands, a small smile playing on his lips, and gently squeezed.

They made their way to a stall, selling freshly baked pastries. Y/N’s eyes lit up at the sight of chocolate croissants, and Matt couldn’t help but laugh.

"You and your obsession with chocolate." The brunette teased, nudging Y/N playfully.

"You know me so well, Matty B." Y/N replied jokingly with a grin, selecting two croissants and handing one to Matt. "Here, try this."

Matt took a bite, the rich, flaky pastry melting in his mouth.

"It's good." He agreed, picking two more for Chris and Nick, knowing they would complain if they knew he had some sweet treat with Y/N and didn't think about them.

As they continued their stroll, sharing the croissants, the simple act of enjoying a treat together felt intimate, more than it had ever before.

While choosing some fresh fruits and showing them to Matt, their eyes met, and for a moment, the world around them seemed to blur, the sound of salespeople announcing their sales seemed muted to their ears and the people moving around them seemed to disappear. Matt felt an overwhelming urge to close the distance between them, to let his feelings be known. But he hesitated, unsure of what he was even feeling.

Y/N’s hand found its way to Matt’s cheek, her touch light and tender.

"You’ve got a bit of croissant on your face." She whispered with a soft laugh, brushing the crumbs away with the tip of her fingers.

Matt’s heart raced at the simple touch, and he covered Y/N’s hand with his own, holding it there for a moment longer than necessary.

"Thanks." He murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

They stayed like that for a few moments, the connection between them growing stronger with each passing second. Neither of them spoke, but the emotions in their eyes said more than words ever could.

A rude sound from the small stall vendor broke the moment, the man clearing his throat as he watched them, his eyes traveling from their faces to the fruit in Y/N's hands and back again.

"Oh, uhm, sorry."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the room as Matt sat on the edge of his bed, his thoughts a whirlwind of emotions. He had been feeling off all day, a strange mix of anxiety and anticipation that he couldn’t quite shake. Nick and Chris had noticed his unusual behavior and exchanged knowing glances but said nothing.

The soft sound of knocking against his bedroom door sounded through all four walls, Y/N's head appearing between the door and the doorframe seconds after.

"Hey, Matty. What’s wrong?" The girl asked without even saying hi, her voice soft and full of concern. "Nick texted me. He told me you weren’t feeling so well… but you’re not ill, are you? You were fine earlier."

Before Matt could respond, Y/N stepped in his room, closing the door behind her back and taking small steps closer, positioning herself standing between his parted knees and pressing the back of her hand against his forehead to check his temperature. Matt’s heart raced at the gentle touch, his breath hitching slightly.

"No, you’re not, thank God." Y/N said with a sigh of relief, smiling hesitantly, her eyes filled with genuine concern. "But I know you, you're not feeling your best, huh? What can I do to help?"

Matt’s mind raced. He didn’t know why he had held back for so long, why he had ignored the signs that were so clear now. Every time Y/N’s eyes sparkled when she looked at him, it mirrored the way his eyes lit up when he saw her. It was like he had been voluntarily blinding himself, unwilling to acknowledge the truth. But now, it was as if he was seeing colors for the first time, and everything made sense. He almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all, how it had taken a conversation with Nick, of all people, to make him realize what he had been feeling all along.

"Matty?" Y/N’s voice broke through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present, her hand traveling to his right shoulder, squeezing the covered skin.

Matt looked up, his heart pounding in his chest. He could see the worry etched on Y/N’s face, and it made him fall in love with her all over again. He loved how easy it was to fall for her, how every little thing she did made his heart swell with affection.

"A kiss…" He whispered, his voice barely audible, but he knew Y/N heard him because he saw her breath hitch, her hands movements stopping momentarily.

"What?" Y/N asked, her eyes wide with surprise while her lips parted in disbelief.

"I want a kiss… to feel better." Matt repeated, clearing his throat, his voice a little stronger this time. He felt vulnerable, his heart laid bare while his body pleaded him to get under his bed and hide, but he couldn’t hold back any longer.

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest as she processed Matt’s words. Not wanting to raise her hopes too high, she gulped, leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, right above his messy bangs. The simple act made her heart beat loudly in their ears, a rhythm that matched Matt’s - without her knowledge.

Matt’s breath caught at the touch, but it wasn’t enough. He needed more. He raised his head, his hazel eyes locking onto Y/N’s gaze, melting with a mixture of hope and longing.

"No... A proper kiss." He asked again, his voice filled with anxiety and nervousness, but courage. "Like... Like lovers do."

Y/N’s world slowed to a standstill as she processed Matt’s words. She had waited so long for this moment, and now that it was happening, it felt almost unreal. But the intensity in Matt’s eyes and the sincerity in his voice made she realize that this was real. This was happening.

Y/N inhale a big breath before leaning in again, her heart racing, looking deeply at his eyes for some seconds before finally pressing her lips against Matt’s.

The kiss unfolded with a tenderness that seemed to suspend time itself. There was a gentle hesitation at first, an unspoken acknowledgment of the years of friendship that had led them to this moment. Y/N's touch was feather-light against Matt's cheek as their lips kept pressed for some seconds in a tentative, exploratory caress.

The sensation was electrifying yet gentle, sending shivers of anticipation down their spines. Matt's arms encircled Y/N, pulling her closer between his spread legs with a warmth that spoke volumes of his love.

The gesture deepened, each movement a silent exchange of emotions long held in check. The world outside seemed to fade away as they lost themselves in the sweetness of the moment, their hearts beating in sync.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathless, their foreheads resting against each other’s, Y/N's spine curved so that she could be closer, her fingers traveling down his neck and finding home between his messy chocolate strands.

"I love you." Matt whispered, his voice filled with all the emotions he had been holding back.

"I love you too, Matt." Y/N replied, her voice equally soft and full of love. "I love you too..."

taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @sturniolowhore @luvr4miya @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @hearts4chriss @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @junnniiieee07 @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @ksskianshd @soimightlikeoldmen69 @ldr-sl0t @its-jennarose @sainzzsturns @ecliphttlunar @soso-scarlettolivia @bitchydragonparadise @freshsturns @h3arts4harry @patscorner @strnilolo @bernardsbendystraws @mattsneezingreal @poetatorturadaa @meg-sturniolo @orangeypepsi @jnkvivi @chrisactualwife @fratbrochrisgf @elordilover @somegirlfromasgard @hpyjw @colorthecosmos444 @dej4vhs @thewhispersofthewaves @mattslolita @imwetforyourmom @mrl217 @delilahsversion @sturnsmia @mattsfavbitchhh @sturnioloshacker @soursturniolo

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shotmrmiller · 4 months

Text

Not a dog, but a rat pt.II

2,3k nsfw mdni

This is home now.

The stale odor of sweat that once assaulted your senses is now familiar. The biting tang of iron no longer constricts your throat with its pungency. The dim lights that flicker overhead, bathing both spectators and fighters in a sickly glow doesn't leave you lightheaded anymore.

It's a constant. Adaptation is the first word that comes to mind— a process that's helped you survive in this new environment— but then Simon turns his attention to you from across the room.

He sits on a bench, a solitary figure amidst the chaos of this rowdy place. His knuckles are wrapped in tape and has got white buds in his ears— the way he channels his focus, a barrier between him and everything else. His stare is heavy, thick with an emotion you can't, or won't, name. But you can feel it. It pricks at your nerve endings, like tiny claws. It stirs within your chest, sending your heart aflutter with anticipation, tinged with a hint of fear. A wave of heat washes over you, blooming in your cheeks and warming your stomach; an admission.

Acceptance.

You break away from his intense gaze with your bottom lip pinched between your teeth.

This is your reality.

The fighters, the brawls, the dirty money, the blood— it's no longer just Simon's world. It's yours too. It's crusted beneath your fingernails and stuffed inside the pull-out couch you sleep on.

(Day number: ??? of begging Simon to buy you a proper mattress since he won't get a flat of his own)

It's waking every morning to soothe battered skin, fix broken noses, and ice black eyes.

Home— something brushes the tip of your ear, getting your attention— sweet...

home.

"What's a kleine maus like you doing in a gritty place like this?" His voice cuts through the cacophony of sounds that resound in the pit. A giant among men. Pallid skin, sinewy muscle taut over bone. A network of blue rivers runs through his arm, visible under the light as he reaches out to coil a lock of your hair around his long finger that resembles bare branches in winter.

"Katze got your tongue?" His grin sends a shiver up your spine. It lacks the warmth of life as if someone carved it out of frost-bitten marble. Fissure-like scars stretch across his face, bisecting a thick brow. Jagged lines of silver on his gaunt cheeks, the corner of his mouth and chin.

And one scar runs from the base of his aquiline nose— a thin, rosy mark, strangely delicate looking— down to his thin upper lip. The result of a congenital defect. Human. Unlike his eyes: a cold, stark blue devoid of light.

Your instincts scream, to run, to flee but deep-seated fear has you paralyzed, like gnarled roots snaking around your ankles, gripping tight, holding you captive. An even smaller part of your mind tells you that it'd be futile. There's no escaping this predator.

His eyes narrow a whit, the corners of his inhumane smile dropping. Anxiety has your thoughts in a Gordian knot— unease twisting and looping in the pit of your belly. You can feel the beginning pricks of pain on your scalp, the strands of hair he's got a hold of being pulled taut, stretched like a bridge.

Tears well up in your eyes unbidden.

"If you won't talk, then you'll sing." A threat. You're a marionette in his hands, and he's about to jerk the strings.

A gloved hand shoots out like a coiled snake, encircling his wrist, the leather groaning under the strain of his iron grip. "I'd let go o' her if I were you."

The grip on your hair slackens, relief flowing through you, thick and palpable. John stands in front of you with squared, broad shoulders and a set jaw— a shield between the stranger and you. It doesn't matter, however, because the stranger's towering stature is surreal, dwarfing even John's considerable height.

"König. Where is your handler? Wretched mongrels like you ought to remain leashed." John spits out, his facial hair contorting as he sneers. Your hand tentatively seeks his and you draw a shuddering breath when the comforting warmth of his presence seeps through the fabric of his gloves and melts into your clammy skin.

"Horangi?" He cocks his head, sunken eyes flashing to yours. A faint whimper escapes your tightly sealed lips and an amused look dances across his features. "Around looking for you, I imagine. I am not my inhaber's keeper." The mocking lilt in his gravelly tone doesn't go unnoticed. John's hand tightens around yours. "Besides. I was merely," he pauses, licking the front of his crooked teeth, "meeting her acquaintance. Ja, Fräulein?"

Your heart races, pounding against your ribcage as he addresses you, but John remains the immovable object. "Don't." His voice is a barely contained growl. "I won't be tellin' you again."

The authority in John's words is unignorable. It wipes the remnants of König's mirth off his face. There's a shift in the air then, electricity prickling at your nerves, raising the hair on the back of your neck. A storm is brewing. Your shoulders tighten, as does your hand, awaiting the impending crack of thunder.

"Boss." Just like that, the singular word cuts through the thickened atmosphere, lightening the oppressive tension between them two. "Problem?"

Simon comes to stand next to John, shoulder to shoulder. Reinforcing the wall you're hidden behind.

John sucks his teeth. "I don't think so. König?" It's not a question.

"Nein. No problem." Your eyes are lowered to the mud-slick floor as he leaves. You counted 14 littered betting slips.

John's grip loosens around your hand, leaning in to murmur something into Simon's ear before turning to you. "Gotta be careful 'round these types. Best stick with one of us, eh?" Another not a question.

It doesn't take much to guess what exactly he told him, not with that wild glint in his eye that he's currently looking at you with. It burns with ferocity, untamed and fervent. Simon wraps an arm around your waist and swiftly lifts you over his shoulder and carves a path through the drunken onlookers, ignoring the stares and taunting cat whistles as he heads towards the locker room.

The door slams against the wall as he kicks it open, the sound reverberating through the room. placing you down on one of the benches roughly, making you grimace at the jolt of brief pain that shoots up your back on impact.

"Simon!" His long strides already have him rounding the corner towards the showers, out of sight. "Arsehole. Tossing me around like some—" you startle when he suddenly reappears, the rest of the sentence sinking into your stomach, his face twisted with rage.

"Where'd he touch you?" He demands, casting a dark shadow over you as he looms.

His arrogant tone snaps the wisp-thin thread of patience you dangled from. "Listen, Ghost, I—" Your words are cut short as his large hand wraps around the underside of your jaw, fingers dimpling your cheeks with an unforgiving grip.

"No lip from you. Not right now." His command is final. Powerless in his hold, you can only gaze up at him with eyes wide with incredulity and a slightly puckered mouth.

"'M no' askin' again. Did he touch you here?" His other hand grazes the side of your head, featherlight, by your ear.

A nod.

"Wha' about 'ere?" Fingertips trail lines of intimacy from your cheek straight down to the column of your neck, lingering by your fluttering pulse.

A shake.

"'S good. I'd be obligated to erase 'is touch with my own. Isn't tha' right, pet? Only I get to touch you. Eh?" He rumbles, his words laced with a proprietary edge that tangle around your spine.

Heat licks up the sides of your jaw. The implication is clear. It's a claim, a brand on your flesh, a line drawn in the sand no one will ever dare cross.

Exclusive.

You made your choice long ago; it only took you this long to come to terms with it. It's bittersweet as it goes down your throat.

A slow nod.

"Good girl." His hand falls away from your face as he leans in. "Now remind me. Where else he touch ya?" Possessive. Intense. All-consuming.

Your eyes flick to the door with no lock and he gets your wordless message. "Kyle's on standby. No one's allowed t'see you like this but me."

The bench creaks under the shift of weight as he sits on it. His hands, firm and assertive, pull you across the wooden surface with ease, draping your legs over his own.

"Talk to me or I leave you here," his gaze drags down from the smooth skin of your neck down the swell of your chest, to your clothed sex. It's like an oil spill, spreading unchecked, leaving behind a slick residue of heat. "Wantin'. I can smell it fr'm 'ere."

Ironic how he barely says a word any other time, but apparently will chat up a storm during this poor excuse of foreplay.

"He—," you choke out, "he didn't touch me anywhere else."

Simon looks at you through half-lidded eyes as his steady hand disappears beneath the fabric of your shirt. "Didn't touch ya here?" His fingers teasingly follow the curve of your bare breast. You shake your head mutedly.

"No? How about 'ere?" The pad of his thumb brushes against your stiffened peak, swirling it once, twice. You clench your jaw to keep from making a sound. Another shake.

He pinches it lightly before rolling it between his thumb and index. "'S good." He moves down to just below your navel, the whisper of contact trailing fire on your tender flesh. "I know he didn't touch 'ere."

No, he didn't. Neither has Simon, until now.

"Nor here." He unbuttons the front of your jeans and grabs the pull of your zipper, the clicking of the metal teeth like the ticking of a clock, counting down to what's about to happen. The damp air in the showers is thick with anticipation. His eyes never leave yours, pinning you in place like a butterfly on display, as he curls his fingers around the waistband of both your jeans and knickers.

You only get a moment's pause, to stop this train in its tracks but it's fleeting, like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands.

He pulls down, taking everything off of one leg completely and letting it bunch up around the other, pooling at your ankle. He exhales a sharp, ragged breath.

"I'd fuck you, but this isn't the place f'r it." Simon spits on his fingers and lightly drags them along your folds, lathering your cunt with his makeshift lube.

You gasp sharply when he catches your pearl, flicking it gently with a tip of his finger. Your back arches at the startling sensation. "Should've let me see this pretty pussy months ago, pet. Would've made your life and mine a hell of a lot easier."

He continues moving his hand along your wet heat, a torturously slow drag that kindles the fire in your belly, the occasional swirl of your pearl stoking it expertly.

"Barely doin' a thing 'nd you're already drippin' onto the bench." You don't look between your legs, refuse to actually, because you know that there's a puddle of arousal pooling beneath you. You can feel it; slick. slippery. warm.

Simon sinks a finger into you, down to the knuckle and oh, that pinprick of pain that sinks its sharp teeth around the pleasure he's built up is exquisite.

"Fuck," he groans, reflexively bucking his hips up into nothing. "Little prick ex of yours also had a tiny cock. Bloody tight." His impossibly long finger brushes over the rough patch of skin, somewhere you can never reach on your own, stealing the breath from your lungs. "I'll 'ave to stretch ya open," he adds a second finger, this time the burn flares. It doesn't stop until it's all the way in, where the ache finally fades, only leaving behind a residual warmth that throbs gently in the aftermath. "I'll make my cock fit." The usual deep timbre of his voice sounds rougher, huskier. Heady arousal barely restrained.

Another graze over your sweet spot, and this time, a high-pitched mewl spills from your lips. "Tha' it?" He hits it with pinpoint accuracy, over and over again, until your cunt begins to squelch lewdly; an obscene, sticky sound that somehow bounces off the grimy tile walls.

"Gonna cum f'me?" Your core constricts, vise-like around him, muscles tensing tight. Teasing, taunting, against the push and pull of his thick fingers, caught between surrender and defiance. But his rhythm insists and persists.

You bob your head stupidly, a jerky up and down. The room around you is spinning, arousal the wine that trickles through your system, usual sharpened edges blurring.

You're lost, but sure.

"Let me have it, then." Your thighs quiver atop his, trying to squeeze together, to keep him right there, right there, there—

All you ever have to do is ask him, pet.

There's a snap, a feeling of something giving way, and your mind floods white.

All you've ever got to do is ask.

It takes you a bit to come back to earth from the dizzying heights you were launched to. The buzzing in your mind, your ears, beneath your skin, begins to quiet. Vivid turns muted, colors and sounds dull.

Simon quickly lowers his joggers, just enough to take himself out and tugs his painfully hardened cock a couple of times, an unsteady twist of his wrist and he lets out a groan behind grit teeth as he comes. Warmth coats your puffy cunt, dribbling down your thighs and onto the bench.

When Simon leads you out of the locker room, Kyle looks at the both of you with a solemn expression on his face. His stance is rigid, the lines of his body drawn taut. It sets you on edge.

"Ghost," he nods. "Johnny's fightin' the big freak that had his paws all over your girl. Tried to talkin' him out o' it, but you know better than anyone how he is."

You know Johnny can handle his own. Always has. But this time, it feels different. Inevitable. Why?

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x f reader #simon ghost riley x you #cod smut #simon riley x you #simon riley smut #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod #simon riley

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murdrdocs · 3 months

Text

gif so no one can ask me who benny is fingering; public sex; all consensual; MDNI 18+ w/ BENNY (the bikeriders)

benny has his hand resting over the fly of your jeans.

you're staring at it, your gaze locked on the scar sitting between his fingers. you run your eyes down to his short fingernails before you flick back up to stare at benny.

he's smiling at you, waiting for your response.

when it comes, you say his name like a warning. to him, it's a coo.

"what're you doing?"

he's still smiling at you, even when you tilt your head and squint your eyes at him.

at first, he doesn't respond. you feel tension down at the button of your pants and you glance down just in time to see him easily push the silver button through the loop. he waits for a second, but eventually he slides the zipper down through the teeth until your jeans hang open, giving both of you a glimpse at your red panties.

his fingers tease below the elastic waistband. "do you want me to stop?"

you glance up at him, weighing the possibilities. you worry your teeth over your bottom lip, uncaring about your lipstick since most of it has been rubbed off on benny's lips at this point anyway.

it's embarrassing how quick you come to an answer, your head shaking until benny leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead. he does the same to the tip of your nose, and then finally on your lips.

“say the word and you know i will.”

you nod, spreading your legs enough to give him the go ahead. but the hesitance is clear within you. even when benny has his fingers slipped between your lips, rubbing through your arousal as he slides down to your entrance, he can see the way you’re hesitating.

“don’t worry bout them.” he kisses your jaw. “they’re not gonna do nothing to you. won’t even look this way. you know why?”

his fingers dig far up into you. your eyes close, your head tilting back until the crown thuds against the freshly painted wall. you can still smell the fumes, reminding you of when one of the guys from the club stuck their fist into this very wall.

shockingly, there’s not much violence tonight. but the night is still young.

benny hums so close to your ear that you can hear the vibrations. he wants you to speak, but you can’t speak, and he knows this.

“c'mon answer me.” you can hear the smile in his tone.

shamefully, your head turns to the side. but he chases you, warm breath the scent of alcohol fanning against your cheek as the tip of his nose pokes into your nostril.

“do you know why?” he annunciates, making sure you hear each syllable.

eventually, you gather the strength. “why?”

“because you’re with me.”

and you hate it, but he’s right. you hate that he rides. you hate that he’s a biker. but the very thing that you hate about him is the thing that keeps you safe.

you could pretend to hate that he's doing this to you here, and not in the bed you keep warm for him. but really, you hate that you like it. you like the split on his lip and the grease staining his shirt. you like the rough callouses on the tips of his fingers as they rub into you.

you claim to hate this lifestyle, yet you’re still here, willingly by his side, willingly letting him defile you in the corner of the vandals’ bar where anyone could watch.

but when you glance over his shoulder, just a small peek of curiosity, you see no one watching. a pretty girl is being finger fucked and no one is batting an eye. because you’re benny’s pretty girl.

benny increases the pace of his fingers until he’s driving up into you at a pace that you know is audible. luckily, the usual commotion covers everything. including your moans as you get closer and closer.

“close?” benny asks you, his chest rattling against your hand where you have it rested. you nod, breathless and resisting the urge to hike your leg over benny’s hip.

“let go for me and i’ll buy you a drink, okay?” he was gonna buy you a drink anyway, that’s a given. you were gonna cum anyway, too, but you’re spurred to do so quicker whenever he sweetens the deal.

“and after that drink, we can go home and do the same thing there, alright?”

#benny the bikeriders #austin butler x reader #benny bikeriders x reader #the bikeriders #benny cross x reader

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somecleverreference · 2 years

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Hi my name is Count Doctor Hannibal Lecter VIII M.D. im a cannibal (that’s how I got my name) and I have shiny brown hair with gold streaks and silver tips that reaches my mid-neck and maroon eyes that reflect red pinpoints like limpid blood and a lot of people tell me I look like Sandro Botticelli (AN: if u don’t know who he is get da hell out of here!). I’m not related to Lady Murasaki but I wish I was because she’s a major fucking hottie. I’m a cannibal but my teeth are straight and white. I have pale golden skin. I’m also a doctor, and I own a psychiatric practice in Baltimore where I help my patients (I’m forty-seven). I’m an aristocrat (in case you couldn’t tell) and I wear mostly brown. I love Garrison Bespoke and I buy all my clothes from there. For example today I was wearing a brown plaid suit with a matching silk pocket square and a blue paisley tie, blue socks and brown oxfords. I was wearing pink lipstick, beige foundation, gold highlighter and concealer on my eyebrows. I was walking outside the BSHCI. It was snowing and raining so there was no sun, which I was very happy about. A lot of fbi agents stared at me. I put up my middle finger at them.

#Hannibal #hannibal shitpost #Hannibal Lecter #red dragon #silence of the lambs #Hannibal rising #my immortal #I know this has been done a million times but this one is My Design #and I put way too much effort into it so please validate me #did I look up who made his suits on the show just to give my shitpost authenticity?? that’s a secret I’ll never tell

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mozzarella-stickz · 11 months

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something about being abby's cool, girly babysitter (and eventually mike's gf hehe) is just so personal to me

idk just like imagine mike hires you, sheepishly telling you he can't really pay you yet, and you just smile and tell him not to worry. you can always pick up shifts at your dad's office if you need.

you show up your first day in low rise baggy jeans, a bedazzled tank top, leather jacket, and chunky sneakers. your nails are done in french tips, you have lip gloss slathered on your lips, and silver hoops dangling from your ears. abby is immediately drawn to how cool you look, and mike is lovestruck.

from then on you nearly become abby's big sister. she loves spending time with you. you'll take her for drives, playing 90s hip hop and britney and even some hole and alanis morrisette. sometimes when mike works late, he comes home to find you asleep on the couch, abby and you snuggled up, watching the end of a disney movie. it warms his heart. you also sometimes let abby try your sparkly lipgloss, but never letting her overdo it. you tell her she's too young for it, but you do give in and buy her a couple lip smackers tubes and roll-on flavored lipgloss.

mike loves how much you take care of abby, but feels guilty he can't pay you the way he should. you don't mind. you love hanging out with abby.

she does, however, feel slightly betrayed when she walks into mike's room in the morning, you asleep on his bed, asking why she wasn't invited to their slumber party and demanding they have one that night too.

#mike schmidt fnaf #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #josh hutcherson #abby schmidt #abby fnaf #fnaf #fnaf movie

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inkdrinkerworld · 7 months

Note

dick literally spends every single penny on you it's CONCERNING, like every date he's dropping 2k in dinner, and you're like huh??? when he gets you gifts for no reason, would be VERY suspicious to me, cus i would instantly think that he's done something wrong and be all dramatic like "did someone die?? did you cheat on me?" and he literally just saw your favourite chocolate and flowers at the store and wanted to get you them..

“Gorgeous, where are you?” You’re in the bedroom, hair dripping as you step out of the shower- you shout back such to your boyfriend.

“I got you something nice.” Dick sing songs as he watches you reach for your blow dryer.

“Dick,” you say as you put it down and stare at him. Your boyfriend has a little problem- he has a shopping addiction but never for things for himself.

Sure he buys himself nice things but it seems like his brain derives the most pleasure and dopamine from getting things for you.

The first time he’d come home with something for you, you panicked. You remember asking him if someone died and he’d laughed so hard he’d started crying.

“No baby, that’s depressing by the way. I got you this just because.” He’d said as he pushed a box in your hands and you opened it to find a pretty bracelet with little bells on it.

Now, almost weekly- it would be daily if Dick had his way- he brings something for you.

“Before you get worried. No one died, I didn’t break your favourite mug or eat your chocolates this time.”

You gasp, “This time?”

Dick’s eyes widen, “Let’s not focus on that, here you go, baby.”

The bag crinkles in your hand as you take it, your eyes on Dick the entire time. “It’s not a bomb, open it.”

When you do you smile. Sitting in the bag is a pair of pyjamas that you’d been eyeing for a little bit- a blue and white striped set.

“Dick that’s really sweet of you.”

He shrugs, all smiles. “That’s why they call me honey, honey.”

You blow a raspberry at the joke. “Grayson,” you mumble as you pull out the pyjamas and find two bars of your favourite chocolates and a little box. “I should’ve known it wasn’t just one thing.” He sits on the bed, leaning back on his palm.

He nods, “You really should, I just like getting you things, gorgeous.”

When you open the box you find silver, wing shaped, bedazzled hair clips.

“I don’t know where you get half these things from.” Dick smiles as you walk over to him. The tips of your hair drip onto his shoulder as you kiss him.

“Oh you know, people just like doing things for about five hundred bucks a piece.”

You pull away from him and frown. “You didn’t spend one thousand dollars on hair clips Dick.”

His cheeks go a little pink, “What? No. I said about, gorgeous.” He kisses you again and then pulls away.

“We’ve got a brunch reservation for tomorrow too, at that place you liked last time. Let me do your hair and you can put on your new pyjamas yeah?” He strokes the apples of your cheeks and under your jaw to the point where you’re a little hypnotized.

“Put the honey hair oil in before your flat iron it okay?” Dick nods.

“I know how to do it right, sweetheart. I am a professional.”

“Professional what, Grayson? Money spender?”

He tuts, a smile playing on his lips. “Ha ha, no I’m a professional at taking care of you. Now sit your cute butt down so I can start.”

#dickgrayson #dick grayson #dick grayson one shot #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson drabble #dick grayson fanfiction #dick grayson fluff #dick grayson blurb #dick grayson fic #dick grayson x black reader #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x yn #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x female!reader #dick grayson x gender neutral reader

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ssailormoonn · 29 days

Text

❛ PORCELAIN ❜

YANDERE! Nakahara Chuuya X Fem!Reader

WC; 2.5k + | !MDNI! | TW/CW :: x fem reader, YANDERE!! THEMES, non-con into dub-con, pet names: Doll, abuse, imprisonment, SMUT!! + more

𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 :: (filled request) - ANON

⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝒮𝒴𝒩𝒪𝒫𝒮𝐼𝒮 :: Chuuya shows you what happens when you try to leave him, you will forever be his pretty porcelain doll. You're so fragile, how could you survive out in the real world if you can't survive him? He say's he won't hurt you, but his definition of hurt, is different to something you will never understand

m.list | bsd m.list | port mafia m.list

The room you were in felt like a prison.

It is a prison.

Your eyes worriedly followed Chuuya's pacing, clean black dress shoes clicking agasint the tiled floor, the sound resonating through the room. The speed of his walk was slow, meaningful, and your eyes trailed him, lips gently quivering in fear, wondering what you had done.

But you knew what you did.

Chuuya's gaze then moves to you, his icy blue eyes pricing into your own. Your eyes snap down to the floor, afraid of meeting his iris'. His presence was suffocating and it was causing your throat to close up while your hands balled into fists at the soft, plush, red velvet throw that was over the king bed. As your breathing gets harder, so does the metaphorical red velvet noose around your neck.

You were stupid, so so stupid. You had really thought you could run from him in the dead of the night. The night was still, it was a silence that could have lulled anybody into a false sense of security, not just you. And you fell for it.

Your body moved cautiously around your shared house he forced you to live with him, and you were careful not to make any noise on the tiles as you quietly made your way towards the door. The churning in your body, and your stomach became more prominent because you were in fear. Fear of what would happen to you if Chuuya were to find his pretty little porcelain doll guilty.

As your fingers brushed up against the cold door knob, the tips of your fingers only slightly grazed the iced, silver metal, a sinking feeling gnawed at your insides. You didn't have the time to process what the feeling indicated because a cold hand tightly gripped your wrist with a crushing force.

A frightened gasp slips past your now quivering lips, your heart had leapt into your throat and your eyes were blown wide at the sight of Chuuya over your shoulder. But it wasn't too long until your body was pressed against the door. Now immobile, Chuuya's grip moved to both your hands, pinning them above your head while your breasts and tummy were pinned inescapable to the door.

Chuuya's free hand was tightly massaging the flesh of your waist and hips, his hand already under the silk material of your pyjamas. His voice was low, barely containing the rage he was feeling, "Where do you think you're going, doll?"

The words sent a shiver down your spine. You turned your head slowly to peak out from the side, the side of your cheeks pressed against the oak wood. His eyes were unmistakable, they glowed in the dim light caused by the moon. Chuuya was always intense, his affection overwhelmed you.

Chuuya... he... teriffies you.

Your skin was tainted with his nonconsensual touches, his bruises that stained your skin. But, the way Chuuya is looking down at you know, this... was different and it rattled you down to your core with fear.

"I... I just needed some air," you lied, your voice trembling.

But Chuuya wasn't buying it.

His grip tightened, his body pressed hard against your own closer until you could feel the heat of his breath on your skin, the warmth trailing your neck. Chuuya's lips grazed your already red and purple-stained neck

"Air, huh?" he murmured, his tone mocking as his eyes scanned your face, searching for any sign of deception. "Do you think I'm stupid? That I wouldn't notice you trying to run away from me?"

The air around you felt heavy between you both. Chuuya's expression twisted into something almost unrecognizable.

"After everything I've done for you," he hummed, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I've given you everything, and you still want to leave me?"

His fingers brushed your cheek, almost tenderly, but the gesture felt like a threat. "I told you before, didn't I? You're mine. No one else can have you, not even yourself."

Tears welled in your eyes as you tried to push him away, but it was futile. He was too strong, too determined. Chuuya leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear, and you could hear the smirk in his voice.

"You're not going anywhere, doll," he whispered. "You can try to escape, you can run as far as you like, but I'll always find you. I'll always bring you back."

His other hand traced down your arm, his touch burning through the fabric of your clothes. You could feel his heart pounding, the possessiveness rolling off him in waves.

He was everything—your captor, your tormentor, and in his twisted mind, your savior.

"Why do you make me do this?" he asked, his voice breaking as if he were the victim in this sick game. "I just want to love you, to take care of you. But you make it so difficult..."

You felt his lips on your neck, now nibbling on your sensitive flesh, and you had only then realised that the grip on your wrist and waist had left indented purple bruises. Tears streamed down your cheeks.

"I guess I'll have to teach you," he murmured against your skin, "what happens when you try to leave me."

Chuuya pulled back, his eyes boring into yours, the madness in them clear as day. "You belong to me," he said, every word dripping with possessiveness. "And I'll make sure you never forget that."

And that's what happened for you to be in this situation, and you still are sitting here, on the edge of the bed, watching Chuuya's slow pacing with fear etching deeper and deeper into your soul.

You were so terribly frightened.

Your body unconsciously flinches when Chuuya's leather-gloved hand reaches to cradle your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his own. You were surprised at how gentle his touch was but you know deep down that it was an act. Full of Deception. A few moments passed and his grip became tighter, his hold turned into one of unmovable iron.

"You've ruined me, you know that?" Chuuya says slowly, a small smile grazing his lips, and the sight made you churn. "I can't breathe, I can't think without you. It's like you've poisoned me, and now you're the only cure." He inched closer, and the warmth of his hoarse breath put waves of warmth upon your lips. His eyes, staring at yours with such intensity, felt like they would burn you from mere contact. But there was no escaping.

There was no way to wiggle oneself out of this iron clamp on your chin. You were trapped, barreled in—into the suffocatingly strong presence and sickly adoration in his gaze. "I've done things, terrible things," Chuuya lowered his voice further, as though to detail some great secret. "All for you. I've bled for you, killed for you, torn myself apart just to keep you safe, to keep you with me." His touch was almost gentle, accidentally tender because in his eyes, the darkness seemed to linger as if edging the gesture to be strong in the wrong way. He trailed his other hand down your arm, his fingers just skimming your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. "And I'll keep doing it," he murmured, voice laced with such intensity it made your poor heart hammer in your chest, "I'll destroy anyone who tries to take you from me. I'll burn the world to the ground if that's what it takes to keep you by my side." His lips feathered against yours with gentle pressure, nudging into yours. The first press of the kiss was gentle at first, almost tender, but there was an undercurrent of something, want and need. But you could feel the possessiveness seep in that blossomed.

Chuuya was now kissing you like a starved man. His tongue forced itself past your trembling lips and plunged into your mouth, they want to consume you, to want more of you. He wants to swallow you whole, to be one with you and you with him so you will never separate.

And when he finally pulled away, you were gasping for breath, your head spinning from the sheer force of that kiss. And Chuuya didn't stop, clutching onto your shoulders, his hands with nails digging into the skin, pressing his forehead raggedly and hot from breath onto yours. "You don't understand," he whispered, his voice shaking with need. "You don't get how much I need you. How much I love you. It's sick, I know it is, but I can't stop. I don't want to stop." Either he pulled back just enough so that he could look you in the eyes, full of feral, desperate love, that had your gut twist with both fear and something else, something you couldn't just put a label on. "And if you tried to leave me again? Well, I don't know what I would do, I might just lose my mind. I might hurt you. Just so you'd never want to leave again."

But he's hurt you before, he's bruised you now, he's always abusing you. His fingers slid down your arms, firm yet gentle, and his grip on your wrists pulled them back as he bent close, his lips hovering just above yours. "But I don't want to hurt you, love. I want to protect you, to keep you safe, to make you mine in every way." Almost with an agonized look in his eyes, as if he wanted you to understand and take this love he was offering you, twisted as it was.

"I can't live without you," he whispered, his voice cracking with the weight of his obsession. "And I won't let anyone take you away from me. Not ever." It was as though the walls were closing in, and Chuuya's words were pinned to you and bound around you firmly, much like chains, in such a way that no opportunity for escape arose. You could see madness in his eyes—the way he loved you twisted him into something else, something dark and dangerous. And deep down, you knew he had you cornered, bound by Chuuya, he had you wrapped up in his life and soul, is what he'd say, is what you'd see. You were his, belonged to him, his, porcelain doll, bound to him through a love intoxicating and terrifying all at once.

Chuuya leans back into your body, lips locking with yours, desperation seeping through and you can feel it. You could feel yourself sinking deeper into the dark abyss that your captor was creating for you. No one could rescue you, no salvation could be had from the sickening, all-consuming love you fell victim to. You will forever be held captive by him.

A yelp leaves your mouth when Chuuya falls on top of you, pressing you flat down to the bed.

"Be quiet," he whispered into the shell of your ear before biting it and you let out a whimper causing him to raise a brow at your reaction.

He delicately bites the shell of your ear making you let out a quiet whimper. you could feel him smile against your ear at your reaction. Chuuya's touch caused you to dig your nails slightly into his chest leaving light crescent marks causing more deep exhales of breaths to get caught in your ear.

Chuuya moved his head and his body suddenly firmly pressed against yours and you whimpered at the feeling of his dick pressing up against your stomach. His lips mingled with mine his minty taste and smell overflowed your senses making it a complete euphoria for you. you cupped the back of his neck to create a deeper angle for him to explore deeper into your mouth with our tongues continuing to entangle with each other.

He was so rough with you, borderline assaulting you and why did you feel so good now?

Chuuya groans into your mouth, the hand that was trailing down your thigh moved swiftly back to your waist and the other intertwined with your hair at the base of your neck, pulling you closer to him. you let out breathy sighs into him as your own hand interlaced with his ginger hair and your other wrapped around behind his neck.

"Shhh, it's okay," Chuuya hums. "You'll be okay."

His other hand moved its way down to tightly lift your thigh up which made his body mould closer to yours making you feel his dick press up against your soaked core. The kiss slows down and turns soft and almost desperate it's as if he wants to take his time with you, savouring every inch of your taste, to take his sweet time to memorise you.

He presses his lips against mine to take your mind off the pain that's probably soon to come. you feel a hard tip get lubricated at your entrance making your back arch into him as you let out a strangled moan of pleasure into his mouth. He continues to push further into you making your eyebrows furrow together in pain but the pleasure is still overwhelming your senses making tears prick at your eyes.

"Oh, you feel so good," Chuuya whimpers into your neck. "You're so perfect."

You moan. The feeling of pure ecstasy of him fully entered you, the pain gone.

You feel his dick scraping across your plush walls in all the right places as he slowly exited your cunt, but not fully. Our moans and whimpers get swallowed by each other. you feel his thrusts speed up and you moan in response, your walls clenching around him causing the grip Chuuya held on your thigh and waist to tighten.

The coil in your stomach getting tighter and your moans slightly became higher. Chuuya continued to groan into your neck after he pulled away from the heated kiss.

You say moaning throughout your sentence, "Feels so good-"

"I'm close-," He groans.

you felt the coil in your stomach snap as your back arched painfully into Chuuya's bare chest causing Chuuya to groan and his arms moved to wrap tightly around you. After a few more pumps Chuuya came, letting a few more rolls of his hips into you to help ride out both our highs before he pulled out slowly, making sure not to hurt you.

You enjoy the sex.

You love him.

You fell in love with him.

The man who abuses you, bruises you and marks you as his own.

You will never escape him.

You'll be his porcelain doll forever.

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc.Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list | bsd m.list | port mafia m.list

#chuya x reader #chuuya x you #yandere chuya #chuuya smut #yandere chuuya #chuuya x reader #bsd smut #bungou stray dogs smut #bungo stray dogs smut #bsd x reader

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bokunoheros · 10 days

Text

LIPSTICK STAINS & MIRRORS

CHARACTER: SHOUTO TODOROKI

GENRE: FLUFF, SMUT

TAGS/WARNINGS: reader is gender neutral but written to be afab (shouto calls you princess once), reader is implied to be shorter than shouto, y’all are like 20+, married and live together, mirror sex, kissing, so much kissing, i love kissing, oral (m. receiving), fingering (reader receiving), inappropriate quirk usage (temperature play), shouto is a tease but in a loving manner, cervix kissing, chair sex, riding (reverse cowgirl), cumming inside, and aftercare, also kinda lazy ending?? bc i stayed up til 10am finishing this and wanna be done so bad

SUMMARY: you just ordered a bunch of new lipgloss and can’t wait to try it out — subsequently, your husband thinks you look beautiful, but doesn’t know how to verbalize it.

WORD COUNT: 7.7K

🦊’s A/N: this wasn’t actually going to be the first fic i posted here, but i DID just get a bunch of lipgloss i've waited a week and a half for, and would love to do the following <3 anyway shoutout judydoll they didn’t sponsor this but i wish they would. // also i pulled like two all-nighters writing this so i’m sorry if it like. starts unraveling a lil at the end i didnt actually proofread this god bless everyone thank you for giving this fic a chance

you had just ordered a bunch of new lipgloss you’d gotten in a buy 2 get 1 free sale, and it had finally come in the mail! after squealing excitedly and startling your poor husband, and highschool sweetheart, you quickly ran up to your shared bedroom and sat down in front of your vanity. fumbling with the box for a second, you get up to grab a pair of scissors from the bathroom before using one blade to cut through the packaging tape sealing the contents inside away.

once you’d managed to get your greedy little hands on the new products is around the same time shouto had wandered into the bedroom, where he stood leaning against the door frame, watching as you excitedly looked down at your lipstick and wondered which one to try on first.

hm……. maybe the more natural looking color instead of the red..? probably, since it's less likely to leave a stain, you think to yourself, oblivious to your husband's presence — until you caught a glimpse of him in the mirror, that is.

“oh! shouto, just in time,” you grin, waving him over. “which one do you think i should try first?” you ask, knowing he had always shown an interest in the process of how you did your makeup. not that he had actually verbalized said interest, rather, it was something you noticed while you were still in highschool. after months into the actual relationship, you two had finally had sex and you had stayed the night at his house. once this became an almost routine of sorts, you'd begin bringing stuff to stay overnight, and get ready for class in the morning, including a few makeup palettes. and so, shouto slowly took an interest in the way in which you’d do your makeup — be it just some eyeshadow/liner, or a fully beat face, he found it to be so…..interesting.

that being said, the youngest of the todoroki family takes a step towards you and away from the doorframe to look down at the lipsticks in your hands and picks the one in the shiny silver, almost holographic, tube and says this one.

huh, what do you know? he had picked the lipstain! guess it’s meant to be, then.

untwisting the cap, you shift in your seat slightly to better face the mirror as you pull the wand from the bottle, and find yourself face to face with the applicator you had been tweaking over for what felt like ever — a nice, smooth, iron tip! one of a kind, really, as you had never seen anything like it before! looking into the mirror, your gaze lingers on shouto for but a moment before focusing on your own lips and applying the stained lipgloss evenly — and then one more coat for good measure.

“what do you think?” you ask sweetly, turning around in your seat to face him.

what he thinks? obviously, he thinks you look stunningly, jaw droppingly gorgeous regardless of what you’re wearing, or if you have makeup on or not (save for the times you’ve ugly cried around him…), but god…. he can’t ignore the way his body suddenly feels flushed as he looks at your lips and the red-ish color currently staining them.

“i think — it looks nice,” he says simply as he takes a few steps closer to you, up until he’s directly behind your vanity chair and planting his hands on the back of it.

“just… nice?” your voice comes out softer than normal, and you sound audibly disappointed. at this, shouto begins to internally panic as he thinks of a way to get his admiration.

“very nice,” he corrects quickly, and you can’t help but let out a little chuckle at how rushed he sounded — you understood that your husband wasn’t exactly a stellar wordsmith, so you weren’t actually too upset with him.

“that’s it?” this time, you sound much more lighthearted, as you raise a brow at him and watch him speedrun the five stages of grief through his expressions and slight body language.

“....i think, you look very lovely,” he’s finally able to vocalize. even after all this time, he still got somewhat bashful when complimenting you — it wasn’t his fault! you just happened to render him speechless and left his dick hard every time you did anything! fuck… how should he go about this? maybe he should just show you what he thinks? yes…. that should work.

“stand up,” he says all of a sudden — he didn’t sound demanding or rude or anything, but there was a certain firmness to his voice that had you obeying without a second thought. without a moment of hesitation, shouto steps around to the side of the chair so he’s standing almost in front of you, and plants his large, calloused hands on your hips.

“shouto….” your voice comes out as a mere whisper as he pulls you closer toward him, left hand coming to cup your cheek as you look up at him.

“hm?” is all you get in reply as he leans in to kiss you tenderly.

tilting his head slightly to the side, he slots his lips over your painted ones in hopes of properly conveying his feelings on how he thinks you look. truthfully, as embarrassing as it may be, shouto wishes you’d put some lipstick on him so he could kiss you all over and leave a physical mark as you so often did to him. maybe one day he would have to sneak some of your lipgloss for himself to surprise you with? perchance… (you can’t just say perchance!) that being said, he takes advantage of the lipstick you’re currently wearing and hopes it transfers onto his lips.

and just like that, you’ve forgotten all about your new lipstick, or anything that wasn’t your husband, really. when you first met him, it was a little difficult to imagine shouto todoroki as a good kisser, and it was kinda true initially!, but after a little guidance and experience, he very quickly got the hang of it and used his newfound skills to turn you into nothing more than a panting mess.

swiping his tongue over the seam of your lips, he pulls away with a slight grin just as you part them for him.

“hey…..” you whine. “that’s not fair.”

“what isn’t?” he asks in a way that would’ve made you think he was playing dumb if he wasn’t….. well, like the way he was. you know your husband well enough to know that he was asking an earnest question, as he often teased you without meaning to or being aware of it.

“just… kiss me again, …please?” you ask in such a saccharine voice, shouto finds himself unable to resist for even a moment as he eagerly leans back in for another kiss.

god…. he was just so fucking weak when it came to You. he could never tell you no or deny you of what you asked for — hell, the first time you asked if you could kiss him (when he was still a kissless virgin), he accidentally bonked his head against yours in trying to copy the way you tilted your head to the side. …only, he had tilted his in the same direction as you, making for a very awkward, very laughable (but memorable) first kiss.

“mmh,” he hums quietly, pleasurably, as his lips work against yours — gently and tenderly, full of nothing but adoration for you, his sweet spouse.

there just truly weren’t enough words in the world for shouto to describe his affections for you, so instead, he often took to showing you exactly how he felt; more often than not, this led to fleeting but heated kisses throughout the day that left you on your toes and wanting for more. jesus, did he even realize the effect he had on you? (he did Nawt.)

this time, it was you to take the initiative to swipe your tongue over his plump lower lip before nibbling on it lightly and sucking it into your mouth. at this, the softest little moan slips past shouto’s throat at the feeling and he pulls you closer to him, so much so that your chest was now flush against his as the hand on your cheek leaves a cooling sensation against your flushed skin.

releasing his lip with a wet, almost schliiick kind of noise, you go to pull away from the kiss, just as he had done earlier, just to find the hand on your cheek had shifted to cradle the back of your head, and the hand on your hip had turned into an arm wrapped tightly around your waist as shouto’s tongue manages to slip into your open mouth.

you can’t help but giggle at the almost ticklish feeling of the wet muscle running around the inside of your cheeks before his tongue is suddenly ice cold and you’re squealing and trying to push him away.

“shouto!” you cry with no real irritation or upsetness — all he had done was catch you off-guard, really. okay, so maybe he could tease you on purpose every now and then..! it just wasn’t often that he did such a thing! he was typically kind of oblivious to a lot of things — not that it was his fault or anything; he hadn’t exactly grown up with the best social cues or …. uhm. family, in general, really….. (touya and enji i’m looking at you).

“yeah?” he breathes, looking down at you with stars in his eyes.

“what was that about?” you ask, trying to steady your breathing, chest heaving slightly as your hands find their way up to his chest, where they rest on his boo—well defined and muscled pecs.

“what was what about?” he echoes, tilting his head, actually playing dumb this time—he knew damn well what he had done this time around, and he couldn’t contain the little smile that tugged at the corners of his plump and almost pouty lips. he loved using his quirk to tease you — given, he’d been extremely hesitant about it at first, worried he might hurt you, or somehow cause some kind of permanent damage. thankfully, as the years went by, he gradually warmed up to it, and now? he couldn’t get enough of your reactions! like when he was fingering you, and suddenly his hand started to get a little too hot, or a little too cold, depending on which one he was using; it wasn’t enough to actually hurt or cause any damage, just some mild discomfort turned to pleasure once you got used to the feeling. and sometimes, whenever you let him cum inside or somewhere on you, his cum felt hotter than it should — sure, yeah, cum is warm, but…. his was just hot! it didn’t scald or anything, but it was definitely an added sensation that wouldn’t be possible without his quirk.

“you know what..!” is what you would have said had shouto not leaned in to kiss you again—effectively cutting you off and rendering you speechless. so maybe he knew he was a good kisser; he was highly observant after all, and would have to be a moron to not realize that he at least left you breathless every time! sure, he didn’t realize the full extent of the effect he had on you, but… partially aware is better than completely oblivious, right?

this time as you two kiss, the hand cradling your head moves back down to your hip, and before you know it, he’s picking you up and sitting himself down in the chair you were previously sitting on not too long ago.

“ah–!” you gasp at the sudden movement and change in position. now straddling his lap, with your back to the mirror, shouto begins trailing kisses down to your jawline and then the column of your neck. now, your husband wasn’t a particularly sloppy kisser. no, more often than not, he was very put together in almost every aspect of his life, and the bedroom was no exception. well, save for the occasions shouto just simply could not contain himself, and it was beginning to seem like one of those situations as he runs his freezing tongue over the sensitive skin of your neck, causing goosebumps to form as he nibbles at the junction where your neck and shoulder meet.

“sho–shouto—,” you breathe as he peppers kisses over your tender flesh. it had taken him a long while to be able to show affection so freely, and even now, he still had some trouble, but compared to the todoroki you knew in high school, he had improved by leaps and bounds!

your husband merely ignores your soft cry of his name—his dick doesn’t, though, and you can even feel it start to twitch to life beneath you. fuck. all you had done was put on a little lipstick, and?? now your husband was glued to your neck, nipping and biting along the way, even stopping in a couple places to suck against the skin there in order to leave a couple hickies!

“don’t tease,” you try to chide him, but it comes off weak and a little pathetic sounding as shouto finds a particularly sensitive spot on your neck and takes full advantage of it. jesus christ! his tongue was so cold!! it was such a contrast to the heat of his breath, you couldn’t help but pant at the feeling.

“‘m not,” is the only thing he says, it was more of a mumble, really, as he bites down harder than he had previously, and you can’t help the squeal that leaves you as his teeth sink into your skin.

“shouto!” if you didn’t know any better, or if you had married someone more… aggressive (katsuki)...., you might have thought your husband had drawn blood — he didn’t, obviously, as he would never intentionally hurt you, but he did like to toe the line of pleasure and pain often enough to keep you on your toes, just enough pain for it to be able to bleed into an acquired type of pleasure.

“yeah?” he all but hums in response, sounding pleased with himself.

he doesn’t give you a chance to respond, however, as he quickly pulls away from your neck to plant another heated kiss to your glossy lips. it doesn’t last very long, though, as he pulls away just far enough to look at you properly, and his eyes widen when he sees the way your lipstick had been smudged and it had spread slightly down to your neck (it was more like lightly red-colored patches in the shape of his lips peppered vaguely over your flesh).

“will you put on some more lipstick?” he suddenly asks, sounding out of breath.

giggling quietly at his request, you nod and oblige, shifting to turn around on his lap so that your back was against his chest, and your ass against his steadily growing erection. grabbing the tube of lipstick from your vanity, you untwist the cap and begin to apply more, focusing wholly on your lips during the process, completely missing the way shouto was eyeing you in the mirror.

after putting the cap back on and setting the silver bottle full of what felt watery liquid when you put it on, but wasn’t actually, back down on your vanity’s surface, you tilt your head to face your husband, who had wrapped his arms around your waist while you had been applying the aforementioned beauty product, and smile at him.

“better?” you wonder aloud, knowing it was much better indeed.

“mhmm,” he hums sweetly, one hand coming up to all but squish your cheeks, just without the pressure, to better tilt your head towards him as he himself leans in for yet another kiss. you swear, the first time you kissed shouto, a switch flipped in that poor boy’s brain, because ever since then, he’s been addicted to them like they’re crack—he needs your kisses the same way he needs oxygen to breathe or a therapist for his generations of trauma stuffed into a single, incomplete lifetime. (please….. please, go to group therapy with the rest of 1-a, i’m begging.)

shouto can’t help but smile against your lips as he pulls you flush against his chest and rolls his hips, and consequently, his hard-on, up against your ass. neither of you can contain the whimper or little gasp that slips past your throats, nor can you help the way one of your hands comes up to thread itself into his peppermint-colored hair as you part your lips needily, trying to shift around in his firm grasp.

despite the quality of your lipstick, it still transferred partially onto his lips, simply due to how fresh the coat was, not that your husband minds. he’d revel in the way he’d get to smear lipstick over your body, and — pause. his hands suddenly find themselves planted on your hips as he manhandles you to face him again, and meets your gaze for a moment before pressing a kiss to your forehead. but in that moment, you could see all the love and admiration in the world swirling around in his beautifully mismatched eyes, and you couldn’t control the wide-ass smile that had spread across your face—so wide, in fact, your cheeks hurt. even though it was such a simple action, you could truly feel his love for you in everything that he did.

“i love you—so much, y’know,” you practically coo, hands moving to cup his flushed cheeks as you simply just look at the man you had married. goddamn! he was so beautiful! taking in all the fine details of his face, you notice the faintest little dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose, and the way even his eyebrows, and even his awfully long lashes (he got them from his mother), are different colors. his perfectly plump and pouty lips to match his overall softer facial features. how could anybody be so perfect-looking? it was just simply unfair! even with his ice burn scar and somewhat sparse left eyebrow growth, it didn’t change a thing in your eyes.

shouto feels his heart flutter at your words, and his grin stretches to be almost uncharacteristically wide as his hands shift lower on your hips, closer to your upper thighs, and his thumbs begin rubbing tender circles against the plush flesh there.

“i — love you more,” he whispers back. the words sound shy coming from him, but you can tell he means his words. you may have fallen first, but shouto fell harder. his smile softens a bit as his hands move up to cup your cheeks tenderly before pressing another kiss to your painted lips. god. he truly could not believe how lucky he was to have you — you, who brought him out of his shell back in highschool, you who showed him love can be tender and soft, you who taught him how to let love into his heart.

now, it was shouto’s turn to show you just how much he loved you.

sliding his tongue over the seam of your lips, he lets out a soft hum as he grips your thighs before sliding his hands slowly upwards and up under the t-shirt you wore—it was his, actually!—and over your bare ribcage. you can’t help the goosebumps that broke out over your skin at the feeling of his calloused hands against your much softer flesh, nor the chill that runs down your spine and causes your nipples to stiffen under the thin fabric—especially with the way he begins to palm and grope at your tits.

“mmnh,” you hum at the temperature difference of his rough hands, and let out a soft moan when it increases drastically all of a sudden, your right nipple freezing cold and the left a little too hot for comfort—even your body was unsure of how to react to such a feeling, but it sure does send a throb down to your clit, and you can feel a damp spot begin to form in the seat of your panties, which is all you happened to be wearing under your stolen shirt.

“shouto, please,” you whine, squirming around on his lap, and dragging your thinly clothed cunt over the erection in his stupid grey sweatpants that always drove you crazy.

“please what, love?” he asks, pulling away just enough to rest his forehead against yours.

“god…. just— fuck me,” is all your able to get out, but, lucky for you, your husband has something even better in mind than just that. sure, he couldn’t wait to get his dick wet—to feel the way your cunt wraps around his sensitive tip—god, he can feel himself leak pre-cum like he’s some excited teenager again, and he groans at the nature of your request.

“mm, …not yet,” he smirks, and, before he’s even processed what he himself is doing, he had already licked an embarrassingly hot stripe up the length of your neck.

“shouto!” you squeal. “what was that for?!”

“felt like it,” he replies simply before attaching his full lips to your neck once more, where he began nipping and nibbling at all your most tender spots, before he finds your sweet spot and bites down particularly hard and begins suckling against the skin there, determined to leave a mark of sorts. now, while shouto was not one to leave marks in obvious places—he was perfectly content with marking you in places only he could see—he just couldn't help himself for some reason..! maybe it was because he was feeling rather bold at the moment, or because he couldn't get enough of the sweet, quiet noises you were making as he nipped and sucked at your flesh until you were sure the skin was raw.

“sho—” you can’t help but wiggle in his lap, cunt grazing over his erection. when he groans at your actions, you repeat your actions, rolling your hips down against his as he marks your neck up in pretty blue and purple and reddish hues.

suddenly, an idea pops into your mind, and you find yourself melting off of his lap and onto your knees between his legs, eager hands reaching to unbuckle his leather belt and pull it off of him.

“wh–what’re you doing, baby?” shouto finds himself breathless with a flushed face as you begin to unbutton his pants and tug down the zipper, exposing his all-too-tight black boxers and the wet spot that had formed on them. you only grin and lick your lips at the sight, of course, eager to get your husband’s perfect cock in your mouth.

“what’s it look ‘m doin’, huh?” you look up at him with big wet eyes and pouty red lips. “now lift your hips f’me,” you instruct him, and he does as told, so you can tug his pants and boxers down in one swift go.

shouto hisses as his sensitive tip comes into contact with the cool air of the bedroom, and he looks down at you a little embarrassedly, biting as lower lip as you kissed his swollen and flushed head before taking it slowly into your mouth.

“ah–!” your husband moans as you suckle around his mushroom-headed tip and he can’t help the way one large hand falls down to rest on top of your head, long fingers burying themselves into your hair as he begins to set a moderate pace for you to bob your head. unfortunately, poor shouto still had trouble controlling his reactions whenever you gave him head — your mouth and tongue were simply too skilled for your own good! for his own good!

tilting his head back to look at the ceiling instead of you, in an attempt to not bust too early, he catches a glimpse of the lewd sight in the mirror and—oh god. his dick fucking twitches and he feels an embarrassing amount of pre-cum leak from his sticky tip and into your hot mouth.

“jesus christ—fuck,” your husband groans—it wasn’t too often that he swore, only when he was especially mad, passionate, or, in this case, especially horny. “take it easy, honey—please,” he whines, hand gripping your hair tighter, forcing your head further down his thick length despite his contradictory words. you pay his actions no mind, however, only doing your best to suppress your gag reflex and hollow your cheeks out around him before swallowing thickly; you even went as far as to deepthroat him all the way, uncaring of the way drool seeped past your lips and all around the base of his cock. swallowing around him again once his leaky tip hits the back of your throat, and shouto’s hand grips your hair a little too tightly—not that you minded in the moment. if anything, it made your pussy throb. as did the way he was panting and moaning softly above you. god…… his little noises were absolutely divine and each and every one sent a jolt to your clit.

much to his embarrassment, shouto is surprisingly noisy in bed — not exactly loud per se, but certainly unable to contain all his little huffs, puffs, and soft moans and quiet groans. but it wasn’t like it was his fault! how exactly was he supposed to stay quiet when you’re making him feel so damn good? jesus, it wasn’t fair! for him, anyway; for you, his sweet sounds only made you all the more hot and bothered.

his gaze falls down to meet yours, and then further down to his dick and the way your glossy lips wrapped around it and the fucking lipstick stains you were leaving around him. how was he meant to last like this? (here’s a hint: he wasn’t!)

pushing against his hand for a moment, he lessens his grip as you pull off him with a sickening schliiickk noise and wrap one hand around his base as you pant for air, looking up at him with doe-like eyes.

“shouto?”

“yeah?” his heart is pounding and he bites his lip as he looks down at your flushed face that now had a thin sheen of sweat over it, and he feels almost ashamed for the way he immediately craves your mouth back around him.

“i want you to cum in my mouth, okay?” you tell him with a soft smile, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear before taking him into your mouth once again, all the way down until your nose was flush against his mix-matched pubic hair and you had to actively breathe through your nose so you didn’t hurl. shallowly beginning to bob your head, your tongue laves over the underside of his veiny cock as the hand previously wrapped around him moves to cup his balls, fondling them softly before giving them a gentle squeeze.

“oh—sweetheart,” he moans, dick twitching violently in your mouth. “don’t stop,” he all but begs you, rolling his hips up, forcing himself further down your throat. you actually do gag at this, but are able to swallow most of your excessive drool down, only some of it spilling over and out of your mouth and onto to your husband’s dick, mixing beautifully with your lipstick stains, and poor todoroki groans at both the sight and feeling.

all it takes is a few more bobs of your head and another squeeze to his balls before they’re tightening and suddenly he’s cumming down your throat—just like you had asked him to. god, he swears you’ll be the death of him!

swallowing around his awfully sensitive length one final time, both to tease him and get his cum down, you pull off of him with another disgustingly wet noise before looking up at him oh-so-sweetly.

the hand that wasn’t still fondling his balls comes to wrap around his dick, pumping it slowly as you press a little kiss to his flushed and shiny tip, licking it playfully and swirling your tongue around it for a moment before you actually stopped teasing his cock with your mouth and just with your hand.

“baby, please—” his voice is uncharacteristically whiney and his hips buck up into your grasp. despite his natural temperature regulation due to his quirk, shouto finds his entire body feeling hot, so hot, thanks to your delicate touch. “just—ah!” he moans softly as your hand begins moving up and down his shaft slowly, moving up and up until you could place your thumb over the slit of his red and swollen head and run it over the horribly sensitive spot.

“god–damn, sweetheart—give me a moment, please,” he begs you, hips bucking upwards as his cock twitches simultaneously. shouto feels like he’s losing his mind as you pump his oversensitive length and he has to keep his eyes away from the mirror lest he nut again—no, the next time he came today, it would be inside you, his beautiful fucking spouse. “just let me breathe.” one of his large hands comes up to run through his hair and push his bangs out of his face just for them to fall right back in place once it exits his hair.

with a scoff and a roll of your eyes, you blow a puff of cold air over his cockhead and let out a playful okay.

“i guess,” you giggle, looking up at him from your spot on the floor. it’s true that your knees were starting to get a little sore, but you figured you were basically done anyway, so, naturally, you went to stand—just for shouto’s massive hands to land on your hips, up under your shirt, and turn you around so that you’re facing the mirror before tugging your panties down to your now reddened knees in one swift movement.

pulling you onto his lap, his painfully hard cock pressed into the crack of your ass, you whine and squirm in your husband’s strong grasp.

“b-baby?” you sound audibly confused and shouto can’t help but smile at your reaction as he presses a kiss to the side of your neck.

“shh,” he hushes you gently, one hand coming down between your legs to stop and rest on your clit.

“sho-shouto,” you can’t help but whine as he applies a slow but firm pressure to your achy bundle of nerves, gently starting to trace teasing circles over it.

“can’t i make you feel good, too?” he whispers into your ear, catching your gaze in the mirror. his heterochromatic eyes are glued to the reflection of yours and you feel a chill run down your spine as he nuzzles his nose against your neck as his middle finger dips down to your dripping slit before bringing it back up to rub against your pulsing clit.

“ah!” an airy breath escapes you and your back arches at his calloused touch. “fuck,” you hiss as he begins pressing soft kisses to the already brusing flesh of your neck and finger moves with experience over your slick button.

the first several times you two slept together, shouto was rather shy, and not particularly bold — always scared he was going to hurt you somehow or fuck up your pleasure, and then you’d want nothing to do with him; so it took a bit of instruction and teaching him what it is you do and don’t like, but shouto, ever the fast learner, quickly caught on and figured out what exactly he had to do and how he had to do it in order for you to feel good.

“that’s what i like to hear,” he mumbles, more to himself than to you, nibbling on the lobe of your ear before blowing a puff of cold air onto it. todoroki could never get enough of the noises you made — the same way you couldn’t get enough of his whimpers and whines — and would do anything in his power to elicit such sweet sounds from you.

“sh-shut up,” is all you’re able to get out, unable to think as he brings his middle finger back down to your slit and actually inserts it into you this time — fingering you in the lightest, most teasing manner possible, while he heats up his hand, his right arm wrapping around you tighter to keep you in place.

shouto just chuckles at your poor attempt at a quip as he licks a chilly stripe up the column of your neck, causing you to shiver as a devious grin stretches over your husband’s usually sweet face.

“oh, honey,” his voice is low and deep and admittedly makes your pussy clench around the single finger stuffed in it — god, you wish he’d add a second or third to actually stretch you out. and, almost as if he had read your thoughts, shouto curls his finger inside of you before pulling it out about halfway so he could slide another in until—he just stops, one finger half way in you with the tip of another barely poking at your entrance.

“sho–shouto?” you all but whine, hips wiggling futilely, wishing he’d just scissor your cunt open already!

“look in the mirror,” he commands softly. nodding hesitantly, you reluctantly look at your reflection and take in the lewdness of the scene: shouto had your legs spread out over his, keeping them open by borderline entwining your lower legs with his, with his thick ring and middle fingers positioned against your cunt, and his chin now resting on your shoulder, piercing gaze capturing your own.

as he finally begins easing his ring finger into along with the one already in there, you can’t help but squeeze your eyes shut, and just like that, any movement stops.

“i didn’t tell you to close your eyes,” he mutters, right hand coming up to slip under your shirt and pinch a nipple.

“ah! ‘m sorry!” your eyes immediately fly open as you try to focus your gaze on the sight in front of you as shouto’s fingers get progressively hotter the further they slip into you, and suddenly—you were burning from the inside out!

“mmh, shouto….” you whine, one hand coming up to tangle into his hair, giving it a light tug.

your husband merely ignores you as he focuses on pleasing you instead; curling his all too hot fingers at just the right angle, spreading them apart to scissor your pretty pussy, his eyes trained on your reflection and each little way you react to his touch—the way you flinch and try to close your legs, just for him to effortlessly prevent this by spreading his a little wider. god; he had learned to be a little too good at this for your own good.

“nngh—, c’mon baby, don’ be a tease,” is all you’re able to get out as your husband takes his goddamn time fingering you; this couldn’t even be considered as finger-fucking! the feeling of the calloused pads of his heated fingertips rubbing against your already hot inner walls as he pumps them slowly—your internal temperature felt like it was skyrocketing, when in reality, it was only one or two degrees higher, something shouto could easily remedy should he switch hands.

“i’m afraid i don’t know what you’re talking about, lovely,” he smiles gently, beginning to pepper kisses along your neck once more. fuck, you coudn’t stand when he played dumb like that — he had to have known what he was doing!! (and he did! that just wasn’t for you to know.) “if there’s something you want…. then you’ll have to ask for it directly, my dear,” he tells you cheekily, and you can physically feel his smile against your skin as he begins to suck against the junction of your neck and shoulder.

god! damn him!

“f-faster,” you whine, wiggling and rolling your hips against his slow moving fingers, just for shouto to pull them nearly all the way out of you. “sh–shouto! goddammit! please don’t tease me!” you plead, eyes beginning to lightly water over out of sheer frustration. tugging at his hair, you try to twist around enough to give him another kiss — just for him to avoid your lips, too!

“uh-uh,” he chides, his freezing free hand pinching one of your nipples, and you gasp louder than you would have liked to at the feeling. “watch yourself in the mirror ‘n ask nicely and you can have anything you want, princess,” shouto says softly, physically unable to stop smiling. sure, most of the time, his teasing was truly unintentional, the other half of the time (a little less than half, really, it was closer to 60/40) was completely on purpose, as hearing you whine his name or for him to touch you never failed to turn him on or bring a somewhat sadistic smile to his usually stoic face.

nodding, you refocus your attention onto the large vanity mirror, with the chair scooted far back enough so you could clearly see his fingers buried in your glistening cunt, and you physically can’t control the whimper that slips past your throat as his index and pinky fingers move to spread your slick folds apart so you could get a better view of what shouto thought was the most perfect pussy in the world—ever since you’d first had sex (despite his initial nerves), he had quickly grown addicted to the feeling of your cunt wrapped oh-so-snuggly around him.

finally, your husband finally began to finger you in earnest, crooking his fingers in such a delicious way so deep inside you—much further than your own fingers could ever reach, anyway—and suddenly you wish it was his dick filling you up, not just his fingers..! unbeknownst to you, this was both shouto’s brief way of giving his sensitive cock a rest so he could fuck you properly without creaming too early and making sure you’d get to cum twice, too.

“you’re so tense,” his voice has a saccharine lilt to it, and you feel goosebumps erupt over your skin as he watches the way his fingers pump in and out of you, and he can feel his length twitch and drool pre as he imagines your cunt fluttering around his dick instead of his fingers.

“‘s not my fault—you’re not exactly making it easy f’me to relax,” you complain, shifting around in his grip as you give his hair a light tug.

“oh? i’m not?” his gentle smile stretches into a shit eating grin as he slides his fingers out of you entirely before bringing his hand up to his mouth to lick your slick off the digits that had been nearly knuckle-deep inside you less than a moment ago, except—he only sucks off his ring finger, leaving the middle one for you to suck on instead, bringing it up to your plump, glossy lips whilst softly telling you to open your mouth. of course, you obeyed without a second thought, happily, and almost hazily, swirling your tongue around his finger in a similar manner you had done with his cock. the action reminded shouto of such, and he lets out a quiet groan at the feeling.

“mmh,” you hum pleasantly around the digit that was pressing down lightly against your tongue. you weren’t too pleased, however, about the lack of stimulation your pussy was receiving, and you decided to make this known to your husband.

catching his eye in the mirror, you let out a little whine and wrap both your hands around his thick wrist as you purposely let the drool in your mouth build up so it begins to seep down his hand and slowly trickle onto his forearm.

“baby, please. please just fuck me,” you mumble, tugging on his wrist to pull his calloused, slick finger from you spit-soaked mouth.

shouto really was planning to finger you to an orgasm, honest, but—when you asked so sweetly, he just couldn’t say no to you!

“fuck,” he groans, both hands quickly settling onto your hips in order to lift you enough to align your soaked slit with his flushed and achy cock. “y’know i can’t tell you no when you ask like that,” he says before letting you slowly sink all the way to the base.

“you feel so good,” he groans out as your puffy pussy wraps around him tightly.

“s–so do you,” you whine out, feeling his head kiss the entrance to your cervix. jesus christ, how was it possible to hit so deep? “s-so, so good,” you tell him, trying to look at the two of you in the mirror and the way your cunt envelopes him and—it’s just too embarrassing to look at!

squirming in his grasp, you try to turn around to better face him so you could plant a kiss to his plump lips. shouto, however, simply uses one large hand to squish your cheeks and hold your face in place to watch as he lazily fucks up into in the mirror. no matter how bad he wanted to kiss you (that would have to come (cum) after you), he just enjoyed that flustered look on your face too much to not indulge in it! besides, he was always so sweet to you, he’s sure you can handle some light teasing.

“aa–ahh! sh-shouto! fuck!” you cry as he begins bouncing you up and down his needy dick. you whimper at the way he throbs inside you and your cunt clenches tightly around him—making your husband groan loudly too. “sho–!” it’s all you can do to look into the mirror at the lewd sight, and embarrassingly enough, it only serves to turn you on even more.

“hmm?” it’s all he can do to hum out a response as he keeps you moving up and down, strong arms moving with ease as he rhythmically rolls his hips up into yours. “what—” he hisses from the way his tip hits against your cervix, with nowhere left to go. “what is it, love?” he does his best to answer coherently, needing you to be the one fucked dumb first. without a second thought, one hand abandons your hip to slide down your abdomen all the way back between your legs where he began rubbing slow, tight circles against your neglected clit.

“ah! f–fuck!” you moan as he soon sets a steady pace against your throbbing bud, steadily working you up to an orgasm, the knot in your stomach tightening.

it doesn’t take much longer before you’re quivering in shouto’s grip and whining about how close you were, and he can’t help but feel a sense of pride wash over him as he pushes you closer to the edge.

as your cunt clenches and flutters around him, shouto feels himself growing uncomfortably close as well, and soon finds himself asking if it’s okay if he came inside.

“yes, please, baby,” you whine and nod your head, one hand moving to entangle itself into shouto’s hair as he finally allowed you to kiss him once again.

and, with a few more thrusts, you find yourself cumming in sync as the horribly tense knot in your stomach finally snaps and you’re creaming all over your husband’s cock.

“oh fuck,” he groans, dick pulsing once, twice, before finally squirting his thick, hot seed deep into your womb, leaving you feeling both gross and contently full.

after rubbing your clit throughout the duration of your orgasm, shouto still doesn’t stop, even once you began coming down from you high, and you can’t help but jolt in his lap from the oversensitivity.

“sh-shouto, you can—you can st-stop!” you manage to spit out, biting your lower lip as you watch his calloused fingers rub steady circles against your poor clit.

“but—” he pants. “you only— only came once,” he tries to explain, rolling his hips up into you despite his own sensitivity, desperate to make you cum again.

“i– i know, but—’m sensitive, baby,” you try telling him, quickly feeling that familiar knot start to form again. “ple—please!”

despite your pathetic little mewls, your husband ignores you in favor of your excess pleasure, significantly warming up the fingers playing with your puffy clit.

it’s not long before you’re cumming one more time, evening out your total to two—equal to what you had given your oh-so-doting husband (even if you only went out of your way to actually give him a single orgasm—he just happened to cum a second time because you felt so good wrapped around him).

“fuck, baby,” you moan, back arching deeply as he slowly lessens the pressure on your throbbing clit. shouto never disappointed you in bed, or in this case, just simply in the bedroom, and for that, you were eternally grateful.

once you were done making a mess around the length of his dick, your back falls flush against his chest, and you both pant heavily for a long moment before either of you are able to recompose yourselves.

afterwards, shouto helps lift you off his softening dick, and into the bathroom so you could piss (always piss after sex, y’all), before going downstairs to get you a glass of water and then returning back to your shared bedroom to wait in your king sized bed. once you re-entered the room, your husband sits up in the plush bed, with his arms extended out to you, your water already on your nightstand.

with a smile, you make your way over to the bed, with only slightly wobbly legs, and curl up in your loving shouto’s strong arms, where he holds you close to him, resting your head against his chest, where you could hear his beating heart—a sound so soothing you were almost lulled asleep by it until you heard the quietest, faintest whisper of, “you’re so beautiful,” and you can’t help the grin that breaks out across your face as you tell him he is too, something shouto has never been too sure of how to process, but over time, as the compliments he received increased, he slowly learned how to handle and accept them properly.

“i love you,” you say in sync, and you let out a little giggle at this before saying jinx! and pressing a kiss to his cheek before nuzzling your head back against his chest and yawning deeply.

274 notes · View notes

simpingsavant · 9 months

Text

Late Night

Pairing: Spencer Agnew x GN!Reader

Summary: You are the person always working when Spencer stops by to get his fix of Mountain Dew Kickstart.

Genre/Warnings: Fluff, slow-burn. A gross man flirts w you for plot purposes. Promise it's very non-major but just in case.

Word Count: 6.4k

A/N: First time posting for smosh, but not the first time posting fanfic. I made a whole side blog for this lol I'm thinking I want to post more so feel free to send me smosh requests and give lots of love so I stay motivated to write more hehe <3

Working the graveyard shift at a 24-hour convenience store is generally not a good idea. Except this one is in a nice area of LA, you’re almost always working with someone, and it’s slow enough that you can get your grad school work done.

Four months ago, when you were first looking at the help wanted sign in the window, you decided you would give it a week to see if it was actually worth it. Now, you were contently typing away on your computer as a group of middle-aged people grabbed alcohol and snacks. They were fancily dressed but the expressions on their faces were reminiscent of college students who were partying through the night like they owned it. When they came up with a case of Pabst Blue Ribbon and enough snacks to last them weeks, you happily scanned the items.

The silver fox dressed in a deep, blue suit dropped a twenty in the tip jar.

“Thank you,” You said, handing him a receipt as his cohorts grabbed the food.

The bell jingled as they left. Your coworker was in the back taking inventory. You looked down at your laptop, rereading the last couple of sentences as you found your place in the research essay you’d been taking notes from.

You loved your job. You worked from 11 pm to 8 am and although it took you time to adjust to a new sleep schedule, it was worth it. You were paid slightly more since you were working such an atrocious shift and you never interacted with your boss. Occasionally, he would message you that he was coming in early to talk, but he often just texted about what he wanted you to get done.

Until 1 am, you were working with Michael, a young man who was in his senior year of college. At 4 am, Marie would come in, an older Latina woman who had been working this shift for over ten years now. She’d relieve you for your break and you’d come back just in time for the morning rush.

You liked the morning rush. Although you couldn’t get much homework done at the time, it was when you had your most regulars. You would see moms buying their children lunch before school, office workers buying cheap coffee, and students buying energy drinks.

Marie would man the register, and you would come to help if needed. During rests, you would be restocking shelves or cleaning.

From 1 am to 4 am, you would usually see only a few faces. You would see students who stay up extremely late or workers having to go in much too early. Since it was a nice neighborhood, they were all pleasant people and you never worried about your own safety or well-being.

Only one regular came in consistently during these hours. He looked to be about your age with chocolate hair that curled at the nape of his neck. He came in just after 1 am and always sported dark eye circles. He purchased anywhere from 4 to 8 cans of Mountain Dew Kickstart and occasionally a bag of chips.

Sometimes, you’d see him in the morning again before you were off. He’d buy a cheap coffee and some fruit.

For the first month, you were too concerned with doing your job well to start any conversations besides pleasantries. He was, however, the first customer you recognized as a regular. You couldn’t help but wonder why anyone would need so many energy drinks. In particular, why in God's name did he love Mountain Dew Kickstart?

Maybe you were so intrigued because he caught your eye from day one. He was dressed in combat boots and a worn jacket. You soon learned those two items were part of his daily attire. You liked the way his hair looked or the way his downturned eyes crinkled as he smiled.

In your second month of working there, you spent way too much time trying to think of a way to start a conversation.

So far, you only got:

“Hi.”

“How’s your night going?”

“Good, and you?”

“Fine. Do you want a bag?”

“No, I have my backpack.”

“Okay. Your total is $12.53, go ahead and swipe, insert, or tap your card. Would you like your receipt?”

Sometimes he said yes, sometimes he said no. A few times, your hands would brush. He was always so warm, your cold hands lingering as he bashfully smiled and looked away.

“Have a good one.”

“You too.”

His hair was getting longer and you thought it suited him well. You wanted nothing more than a reason to hold a genuine conversation with him.

During your third month, that reason finally came.

He walked in, luscious locks replaced with a buzz cut and you couldn’t help but go “Oh wow.”

“Is it that bad?” He joked, rubbing the top of his head.

“No, no,” You immediately said, hands moving rapidly. “It just surprised me.” A beat of silence followed before you added, “You pull it off.” He really did, but you also took that as a sign you liked him a little too much. You felt like a schoolgirl with a crush.

“Thanks, it was for work,” He adds, voice monotone despite the little grin he sported at your compliment. He walks farther into the store, toward the opposite wall with the display of drinks.

“For work? Are you joining the army?” You question, stumbling over your words slightly as you realize that it’s finally happening—you are finally holding a conversation with him.

“No,” He laughs. “I work for this online entertainment company.” He fills his arms with five cans. “It was for a special.”

“Oh,” You reply, rolling on the balls of your feet as you try to think of ways to keep the conversation going. “Are you an actor?”

“More behind the scenes,” He replies, coming up to the counter and placing his drinks down. He grabs a bag of chips from the front display.

“That’s cool,” You say, picking up the first can as you begin scanning.

He shrugs, “I’m sure half the city does stuff online.”

“I doubt that,” You scoff. “Maybe half does entertainment, but definitely not exclusively online content.” Feeling a little bad for shutting him down, you look up at him for a moment, expecting to see disappointment or annoyance.

Instead, he’s smiling. It’s not a large smile, but it quells your anxiety.

“You’re probably right,” He answers, fishing out his card.

“I usually am,” You joke, giving him a quick look before clicking away on your screen. “Your total is $10.54.”

He lets out a short laugh that makes your insides flip with satisfaction. “I’m Spencer by the way,” He offers, putting away his card after the reader beeps.

“Y/N,” You say, tapping your name tag. “Do you want your receipt, Spencer?”

“Sure, Y/N,” He answers, putting his drinks into his backpack.

You rip it from the printer and hold it out. The way he said your name makes you shiver. He takes the receipt and bids you farewell.

You see him in the morning and you’re eighty percent sure he times it to check out with you instead of Marie. Today he opted for an iced coffee with lots of cream and a plastic container of chopped mango.

“Good morning, Spencer. How’d you sleep?”

“Good, but not long enough. What about you?”

You see a flash of realization on his face as soon as he says it, but you’re speaking before he can correct himself.

“Haven’t slept yet, but I get off in ten minutes and will be able to sleep till five today so that’s nice.”

“What’s at five?”

“Class. They’re in the evening since so many grad students work day jobs.” You tap away on the screen. “Would you like your receipt?”

“Nah, just toss it.” He picks up the drink and fruit. “See ya later, Y/N.”

“See you,” You reply, crumpling the receipt and throwing it in the small trash bin under your register before waving to the next customer.

Since then, Spencer has come in every night without fail and sparked a conversation with you. You learn that the company he works for is called Smosh and you think the name is vaguely familiar. He asks you what you’re studying and why you’re always on your laptop.

The next month and a half goes by quickly. You come to expect him, anticipating his nightly visits. He has recently started staying longer, leaning over the counter and smiling at you as he talks about something that happened the other day. If another person comes in, he usually takes that as his sign to leave, wishing you well and exiting before the new customer is ready to check out.

You’re unfortunately not getting as much homework done because of this, but you don’t mind one bit. You either work during your break or just take some time before class to do more. You wonder if he’s not getting as much sleep because of this, worried you’re burdening him. Despite this, you know that you’ll selfishly never be able to turn him away. Even if it is for his own benefit.

Once, he came in before Michael had left. Your conversation was curt and he left right after you gave him the receipt. Michael stared you down the whole time and Spencer was clearly thrown off by another person being there.

“Who was that?” Your coworker asked, moving toward you from his spot behind the hot food.

“Just a regular,” You answer, trying to keep your cool. You pull out a cloth and begin wiping down the counter, wanting to occupy your hands. “He usually comes later.”

“Ah,” Michael says, nodding slowly and giving you a look. “That’s it?”

“Yeah?”

“Interesting.”

The comment piques your interest and you can’t help but ask, “How so?”

Michael smirks at you, “Why do you care?”

“Bro, shut up,” You hiss, pushing him out of your face and walking over to your stash of food. Your face felt hot as you walked past, and you attempted to hide it in the collar of your shirt. It was never fun to be caught with a crush, but you wanted to know Michael’s thoughts. So far, you and Spencer always talked in privacy, with no onlookers to comment on if your feelings seemed mutual.

“Fine, fine,” He relents, holding his hands up. “It’s just that I saw him through the window before he came in and he was smiling way too big for someone coming in the pick up energy drinks.”

“You’d be surprised. He gets those every night,” You defensively argue, “He probably has a shrine at home.”

“Oh, come on,” Michael says, rolling his eyes as you pop a chip into your mouth. “That smile dropped as soon as he saw me. I bet he wishes it was just you.”

“Don’t say that stuff.”

“Why not? Don’t you like him? You definitely lit up when you saw him.”

You gawk at your coworker, absolutely astonished at how easy it was for him to notice. This was the first time anyone witnessed the two of you interact and now you were questioning every interaction. Did he like you? Or did he just like that you gave him a confidence boost because your infatuation was so obvious?

“W-what’s your major again? Investigation?” You accuse, stuttering out of pure frustration.

“Yes, actually—”

You roll your eyes, but the sound of the door brings your back to attention. You steel your expression but are grateful the conversation ended. It was a wake-up call for you and you spent the rest of your shift trying to understand your feelings more.

Could it still be called a crush? You felt like you knew so much and yet so little about him. When did you cross the line from strangers to acquaintances? How do you go from acquaintances to friends? Did you even want to be friends?

After that, Spencer always came in after Michael left, his disposition more friendly when it was just the two of you. You didn’t know if that was a good sign or a bad sign, but it was hard to think about when only a counter separated the two of you and he was radiating warmth and cracking jokes.

“Okay,” You hear Michael say and all of a sudden you are back to reality, no farther in your reading than you were 10 minutes ago.

The door to the back shuts and you look at your coworker with wide eyes.

“I finally finished with inventory.”

He looks down at his phone, prompting you to look at the time showing on your laptop.

12:56

“Sweet,” He says, tucking his phone into his back pocket. “Need anything from me before I go?”

“No,” You answer. “Enjoy your night.”

“Thanks, I’m gonna go grab my stuff before I clock out.”

“For sure. See you tomorrow.”

“Later,” Michael says.

He opens the door to the back and you turn to your computer. The break room was through those doors as was the back entrance which almost all employees used when coming and going.

You focused on your computer, reading the most important parts of the study and taking down notes. In the back of your mind, you knew Spencer would be arriving soon. It makes you nervous, butterflies erupting in your stomach as you await his arrival.

You have been thinking lately about how to advance your relationship. Maybe get more personal with the information or invite him to hang out outside of your job. The idea makes you queasy because you worry about ruining everything by trying to get more.

You finished the reading and moved on to another class assignment. Spencer came in soon after, his lips quirked up and no jacket on. The weather was getting warmer and it was rather dry. You could absolutely walk around with only a T-shirt and jeans on despite the time.

This, however, drew your eyes to his arms immediately. They weren’t as hairy as you were expecting, his beard and how quickly his hair grew back making you think they would be. He wasn’t very muscley in any way, but your eyes shamelessly lingered on his biceps longer than you wanted.

His skin was littered with freckles and tattoos, black ink that started at his forearm and rose past his t-shirt. You could spend hours looking at them, a couple of them immediately garnering your interest.

“Hey,” You greeted, your eyes snapping up to his face. You were pretty sure he caught you, but he thankfully said nothing. Maybe he was used to his tattoos being looked at, an easy cover considering you weren’t just looking at his tattoos.

“Hey, how’s your night?” He makes his way across the store with ease, eyes staying on you.

“Fine, it’s extra slow tonight.”

“That’s nice,” He’s speaking loud enough that you can hear him from far away. “Are you getting a lot of homework done?”

“Yeah,” You replied. “Finals are coming up and I’m working on all the trivial homework now so I can study and work on the final essays in the library.”

“Is this your final year?”

“Sort of. I’ll be getting my masters after this, but I’m on an automated track for my PhD.”

There’s silence as he grabs a final can and walks up to the front. It’s almost awkward, but you aren’t sure why. It seems like he wants to ask you something, but is struggling to say it.

You start scanning his items, letting him think instead of trying to fill the space with meaningless talk.

“Are you still working here over the summer?”

“I am,” You light up, realizing why he was nervous. It sent a spark through your body to think about him missing you.

God, you wanted him so bad.

“I’m also doing some research work for a professor though,” You add. “I’m honestly too busy to have a job and it will only get worse in the upcoming year, but I need the money and this is the best option for pay and the ability to do homework.”

“Damn,” Spencer sighs. “I’m sorry about that.”

His voice is soft and sincere. It throws you off for a moment, not used to this kind of sympathy. Your social circle consists of Michael, Marie, and other students who were also going through their own shit.

“Oh, it's nothing,” You shyly reply, eyes falling to the counter and lips forming a tight line as your mind races.

“No, seriously,” Spencer insists. “It must be so difficult and yet you never seem like you’re struggling.”

With a large breath, you finally accept his compliment. “Thank you, that’s very nice of you.” You look up to see that his gaze is already on you and you hold eye contact for an absurd amount of time. You’re sure any onlookers would consider the scene intense.

The pressure of the moment builds, compressing your lungs.

“Um, anyways, your total is $9.54,” You say, breaking the silence and eye contact.

“Oh, right.”

Spencer shoves his hand into his pocket to grab his wallet and you once again admire his arms as he’s busy.

“How was work today?” You ask, wanting to dissipate the intensity of the moment.

“Long.” He answers. “This week is a filming week so I’ve been busy as hell working behind the camera and being in a few videos too. Tomorrow is Friday though and I don’t have to be in till 11 am.”

You hum in acknowledgment, “That sucks.”

Long ago, when curiosity finally got to you, you looked up Smosh. You realized quickly that the name was familiar because it was quite popular back in OG YouTube. You spent an hour exploring their channels before growing bored and looking up videos with Spencer specifically. It was weird and you could only watch in short increments of time before needing a break. You felt like you were violating his privacy, but struggled to stop when you realized just how funny he was, his humor translating perfectly on camera. He held your attention in so many videos, quick quips making you burst out laughing.

You also note the differences in how he talks to you and how he talks to the camera. Although quiet, he cracks jokes almost every time he speaks. His coworkers seem like friends and you’re sure that helps to comfort any nerves he would have on screen. However, they were obviously trained on-camera talent whereas he simply fell into it because of how much the audience liked him. Around you, he made jokes, but he also seemed to shed the demeanor he developed for videos. Not every sentence was about entertaining.

They were real. Real discussions with real problems no matter how mundane.

“Yeah, but at least we are getting it done. Next week is all at my computer or in meetings,” He adds, tucking away his card and putting his drinks into his backpack. “Anyways, so, when is your finals week?”

“In two weeks technically, but I have a couple of major things going on next week,” You answer, taking a seat on the stool next to you.

“Like what?” Spencer inquires, a light in his eyes that sends a shiver up your spine.

“Well, I’m taking four classes. Two of them have an exam and a final essay. One has a final essay and matching presentation, and then last is a group assignment that also has a presentation and essay.”

“Oh no, not a group assignment,” Spencer interjects, empathy on the tip of his tongue.

“I know,” You agree, nerves falling away as you ease into familiar territory. “People in masters programs are not as bad but they can still be pretty clueless and unhelpful.” You shake your head in frustration, “Like this one guy in my group, he thinks he is so edgy and smart. He takes no criticism but also doesn’t put in enough work. He’s basically made me his personal target and I literally have a group chat with two other members just to rant when he says the stupidest shit.”

“Damn, sounds like an ass.”

“He is,” You groan, closing your eyes. “But we are almost done. We have the essay due next week and then presentations during the finals period.” You grin in relief, “After that, I have two weeks of break before starting my internship with the professor.”

“Are you getting paid for that?” Spencer asks.

The conversation was flowing easily, his interest in your life more evident than ever. It isn’t lost on you that he’s exhibiting every sign of attentive listening and it makes your insides twist. He’s leaning forward, fingers tapping away on the counter as he nods periodically.

“Only in experience,” You sigh. “Money would be great, but I’d rather learn from this and not get paid than not do it at all. I only have to dedicate 12 hours a week to it anyway and that’s not much considering my usual schedule is jam-packed.”

“What’s the study about?” He asks, holding your gaze more often than usual. You find it hard to reciprocate, too nervous to engage in whatever he is doing. You aren’t sure if you could call it flirting because he definitely wasn’t complimenting you, but he was acting differently enough that it was noticeable.

Before you can answer, a customer walks in, the bell ringing in your ears as you look at the brunette in front of you. You expect him to leave like every time before, but he doesn’t move. Although thrown off slightly, you recover quickly and answer his question. When the customer is ready to check out, Spencer simply steps to the side but lingers near. As soon as the man leaves, Spencer is right back where he was and asking you another question that keeps you talking.

He leaves twenty minutes later, eyes half-lidded and tired. You don’t see him that morning, likely because he doesn’t have to go into the office as early as usual. Despite logic, you still miss him.

When Spencer comes in that night, he’s later than usual. Not by much, it’s not even 2 am when he walks through the door. And yet, he’s apologetic.

“Hey, sorry,” He mumbles, coming right up to the counter.

Taken aback, your hands slip from your keyboard and you stand up straight. Fridays were always the busiest weekday and although you did wonder where Spencer was, you didn’t have much time to think about it.

“I was playing a game and totally lost track of time,” He continued, a touch more out of breath than usual. He runs a hand through his short, recently bleached hair.

“No worries,” You say, not quite sure why he’s apologizing. It’s not like you had a set time to hang out or do something together. “Need to come get a drink so you can keep going?” You ask, trying to dissipate the awkward feeling that was bubbling up. You didn’t want to let yourself assume more than was reality.

“No, no, I mean,” He stumbles, “I probably will go back to playing, I just—never mind.” He looks down, staring at the counter, specifically the display of scratchers in the built-in glass case.

God, this felt so weird. You shouldn’t have said that, maybe he actually wanted to see you but then you ruined it by making it about the drinks and not you.

“So, what game were you playing?” You ask, the air feeling stuffy.

After a relieved sigh, Spencer goes into the details. You listen intently because not only is he a good storyteller, but you also genuinely care about his interests.

As he rants about some game mechanic, your mind begins to wander. More precisely, you wonder if your affection for him is obvious. Even from the short interaction you had in front of Michael, he could tell there was something more going on. To a stranger would it be obvious? To your friends would it be obvious? Would they say you two would make a cute couple? Or would they not see the chemistry?

“Oh, that’s frustrating,” You say, picking up on the pause in his monologue.

“Eh,” He shrugs, “It’s life.” He leans over the counter, shoulders more relaxed than when he first entered. “I needed a break anyway. So, how’s your night been?”

“Well,” You begin. “I felt rather lost without you.” Sarcasm is dripping off your tongue and Spencer immediately smiles. “My internal clock is all screwed up.”

“You poor thing,” He says, playing along.

“You, sir, need to take your responsibility more seriously,” You laugh, sitting back down in your chair and leaning over to grab your water. “More than half an hour late, I’m sure your body is screaming for a Mountain Dew.”

“Not just a Mountain Dew,” He protests, “A Mountain Dew Kickstart.”

You giggle, just about to add something before the bell rings and your eyes immediately shift to the front door. The patron, dressed in black jeans, a blue hoodie, and a leather jacket, comes up to you immediately. In the fifteen-foot walk between you and the door, you notice he is at least twenty years older than you, skin wrinkling and sagging with age. His clothes are worn, fraying at the seams. When he pushes forward, Spencer immediately slinks away, stepping over to look at the opposite wall of food. The stranger places his hands on the counter and you see dirt under his nails.

When he speaks, his voice is hoarse.

“Two packs of the Marlboro Red,” He commands, his eyes dragging up and down your body. Just as you turn to grab the cigarettes, you can see a smirk forming on his lips.

You sigh, taking a moment to harden your exterior before turning around to scan the packs. These kinds of customers were uncommon for the area, but still came in enough for you to pick them out of a crowd immediately. Usually, they leave easily enough.

“Anything else?” You ask, giving him a tight-lipped smile.

“Two of those beef taquitos, hun,” He says, a dirty finger pressing against the warm glass.

You feel a wave of cold at the name but move aside to grab the hot food without any fuss. The sooner he leaves the better. When you hand them over to him, he purposefully moves his hand far enough forward that it touches yours. You are vaguely aware of Spencer in the background, but force your eyes off him.

You can deal with this on your own just fine.

The stranger's eyes linger on your hand and you snatch it away, typing on the tablet to add the taquitos to his total.

“Anything else?” You echo, voice more curt than before.

“Hmm,” He hums contemplatively, putting his finger to his chin like he’s performing. “I suppose I’ll take your number too.”

You fake a laugh, looking into his eyes for only a moment before going back to your screen. “Although I’m flattered, I don’t give my number to strangers.” A few more taps to the device, “Your total is $22.37.”

“Well,” He leans forward and reads off your name from the tag. It sounds sickly coming from his lips. “My name is Mark. Give me your number and then we won’t be strangers.” He pulls out his card to pay, shoving the cigarettes into his pockets.

You give him a forced smile, resting your hand on your heart while you try to let him down gently. “Nice to meet you, Mark, but still. I am not interested.”

“Why?” He questions, “You got a boyfriend?”

You debate telling him you’re in a relationship. Maybe it will get him to leave, maybe he’ll just suggest you cheat. It’s always difficult to tell.

“Dude,” You hear a voice speak up. “You’re holding up the line.”

Mark turns around to see Spencer a few feet behind. You have to crane your neck to see him, the brunette lining up down an aisle. He’s holding some random items, clearly having wandered around the store, paying attention but trying to look like he was merely shopping.

Just before Mark can say anything, Spencer is pushing forward and shouldering past. “Just take the L and move on,” He deadpans, his voice low and foreboding. He stares down the stranger, putting his items onto the counter without even looking away. He’s half a head shorter than the guy, but his presence alone makes up for that tenfold.

“Here’s your receipt,” You quietly interject, holding it out. Half of you was thankful for the interruption, but the other half of you was annoyed. Despite that, you choose to use this opportunity to end the conversation.

With a huff, Mark snatches the receipt from your hand.

“Whatever,” He mumbles to himself, “Bitch.”

The bell dings as he exits, leaving you and Spencer in a loud silence. You let out a shaky breath.

“Oh my god,” Spencer begins. His words draw your gaze away from the door and to him. You can see the concern on his face and the disgust in his eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” You have a moment to say before he’s talking again.

“What an ass. Do you not have a panic button?”

“I do,” You answer, “But that’s for robberies.”

“Or this!” He protests, gesturing at the door where the man had exited. “You need to stay safe.”

“I was staying safe,” You defend.

“I can’t believe they have you alone at this time of night,” Spencer continues, seemingly not registering your words. “Like, anyone can just come in here!”

“Spencer,” You say, trying to grab his attention.

“You should never have to deal with that kind of–”

“Spencer,” You repeat, finally getting him to shut up.

“What?”

“It’s fine, I can deal with this on my own. You didn’t need to help,” You explain, wishing the moment would simply pass so you could move on.

“Just because you can deal with it on your own doesn’t mean you have to,” He argues, his voice softer than before.

His words leave you at a loss, unsure how to respond. He breaks the silence before you can.

“How often does this happen?”

“Not often,” You say, struggling to make any eye contact. “This is a nice area and usually they just give up after a couple of tries.”

Spencer sighs, running a hand through his hair with an exasperated expression. “Sorry,” He mumbles, the word being pulled from him. “I shouldn’t have freaked out like that.” You can see the regret in his eyes. “I got so heated and I should have just made sure you were okay.”

“Oh,” You say, “Thanks.” His apology was unexpected but very appreciated. “I am fine.”

Spencer nods, the moment feeling slightly awkward as the resolution comes. “When does the next person get here?” He asks.

“Four,” You answer, taking a chance to grab your phone and check the time.

2:21

“Damn, that’s a long time.”

“It’s whatever,” You shrug. “It goes pretty quickly since I’m basically just talking to you and then doing homework.”

When the words register for him, there’s a glint in his eyes and a small smile forming on his face. “That’s good,” He replies. There’s a pause before he speaks again, “But damn, that’s like an hour and a half away.”

“Yeah,” You sigh, resting back on your stool.

“Can I stay?” He asks, surprising you. “For peace of mine, I mean. I’m just thinking about me leaving and that guy coming right back in. I don’t know, it’s dumb, but I just can’t imagine leaving you right now.”

“Sure,” You reply, interrupting his word vomit once you’ve regained your barrings.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” You shrug, a closed-lip grin forming. “I would love for you to keep me company.”

“Cool,” He says, a smile forming for him.

The moment is awkward and foreign. From an outside perspective, you probably both look like grinning idiots.

“Well,” Spencer begins, breaking the silence, “I’m definitely going to need an energy drink to stay awake.” He looks down at the pile of snacks he brought up. “You keep working, I’m gonna put these away and come back up with stuff I actually want to buy.”

“Roger that,” You reply, giving him a look before turning back to your computer. You don’t get much work done as you wait for him to come back up. You can’t see him in the aisles, but as he moves between aisles, he always looks at you. The security camera screen is just to your right and you can’t help but watch him as he puts away the random collection of items.

You’re nervous, too distracted by his presence to focus on anything. You were somewhat excited to spend such a prolonged period of time with him. However, you were also absolutely terrified that you would make a fool of yourself or simply seem too boring.

“Okay,” You hear him say, already aware that he was making his way back to the front. “All done.” He is now holding three cans of Mountain Dew Kickstart and a chocolatey protein bar. “Can I also get a couple of taquitos?”

“What kind?” You ask, reaching forward to start scanning his items.

“Your pick, I guess."

You smile at him and see he’s already grinning at you. You can’t help it, everything he does seems to make you happy beyond logic. “I’ll give you one chicken and one fiesta. The beef is fine and the cheese is not good.”

“Sounds like a plan,” He laughs, pulling out his card to pay and then opening a can and taking a big swig.

“Did that guy getting some make you crave them?” You ask, a joking glint in your eyes as you look up at him.

“Am I a misogynist if I say yes?” He replies, making you let out a laugh that was just a little too loud.

When you hand him the taquitos, he leans back onto the counter, head turned so you can see his side profile. He has the drink in one hand and the paper bag of taquitos in another. He takes a bite, a comfortable silence falling over you both. You occupy your time by looking down at your computer and mindlessly clicking around while you try to think of things to talk about.

“How was work?” You say, deciding on that as the least risky option.

“Good,” He shrugs. “We finished a little late and traffic meant I didn’t get home till almost 7 pm.”

“Oh jeez,” You groan. “My commute is pretty easy in the morning because I go opposite the traffic.”

“I’m jealous,” He replies, smiling at you. “Do you live far from here?”

A shock of electricity shoots through your body. “Somewhat. This isn’t my local convenience store, but I’m not that far.”

Spencer nods, “This isn’t mine either.”

“What?”

He turns to look at you, eyebrows perked up like he didn’t just say something ridiculous.

“This isn’t your nearest convenience store,” You repeat slowly. When he nods, you ask, “So why do you come here?”

Spencer laughs, realizing his mistake. “The one nearest me is literally down the street, but they don’t always have these,” He answers, holding up the pineapple orange mango-flavored drink. “This store is only a few more minutes away and it always has them.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s because you buy our stock,” You joke. “I’ve literally had my boss ask about why we are selling so many more.”

“Really?” He gasps, leaning in closer. “I used to only make the walk here if the closer one was out, but four months ago I just stopped bothering.”

The fact that four months is when you started working is not lost on you. Feeling confident, you add, “What about when you get coffee? I’m sure the other one has coffee.”

“True.” He looks slightly caught off guard, eyes scanning the store before speaking, “I only come to get coffee here if I’m too lazy to make it at home and running early enough to…” He pauses for a second, the sentence closing as if it wasn’t the planned ending. Finally, he adds, “To see you.”

You hum, looking down because your face is warm and you’re at a loss for words. Luckily, he’s too nervous to look at you either. You feel tingly, knowing full well that this is a special moment that you’ll look back on if you end up dating.

“Anyways,” Spencer breaks the silence. Before he can say anything else, he yawns, mouth opening wide.

“You know you can go home, right?” You laugh. When you look down at your computer, you see it’s about half an hour later. “No one has come in and I doubt anyone will before Marie gets here.”

“No, no,” He protests. “And anyway, aren’t I making time fly?”

“I suppose,” You grin. “You are quite great company.”

Spencer flashes you a smile that makes your insides twist. You wonder if he is picking up on all this. If he can tell that you’re interested in him.

“I’m honored.”

“You should be.” You sarcastically quip. “I have high standards for the company I keep close to me.”

“Is this close?” He contemplates aloud. “I’ve never even seen you without your black polo, black pants, and nonslip shoes.”

You laugh, looking down at your clothes. “Don’t you like this fit?”

“I mean, I love it,” Spencer starts, “But I don’t know how much you’re serving day to day.”

“I serve even when I’m only going to class,” You protest. “Maybe when I’m done with finals, I’ll grace you with my out-of-work personality.”

Spencer grins, “I’d be honored.”

You’re on high alert, knowing exactly what was happening.

“You should be,” You echo, unsure of what else to say. It doesn’t matter though. You could say anything and Spencer would find you charming.

“Maybe we can go to competing stores and graffiti them,” He suggests, long since turned around so he can look at you fully.

“Pft,” You laugh. “I don’t want to get arrested with you the first time we hang out.”

“You don’t? That’s usually my go-to!”

“Well, my go-to is food. Or the arcade.”

“The arcade?” He questions. “All this time I’ve been talking about games and you’ve never mentioned that you’re also a gamer?”

“I am not!” You protest. “Definitely not compared to you. You’re a savant and I’m the fool.”

“I doubt that,” He replies, a grin never leaving his face as he leans in closer. “I say arcade so I can check out your skills.”

“Deal,” You say, leaning onto the counter so you are only a few feet away. “The arcade it is.”

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