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salingers · 3 months ago

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hayride.

[joel miller x f!reader]. summary: visiting home depot with your dad's best friend, joel miller. [and, him eating and fucking you, in the hay field located behind the store]. warnings: 18+ mdni. age gap. agoraphilia. anal fingering. au. begging. brat!reader. cream pie. daddy!joel. daddy!kink. dirty talk. dom!joel. jealous!joel. language. no outbreak. oral sex. no use of 'y/n'. praising. smut. unprotected piv. use of 'good girl'. use of 'slut'. word count: [about] 2,600. a/n: hi, more october-set smut, before the month's over. thank you for welcoming me into the fandom, by supporting my debut, october's end. cover by me, divider by @saradika. @saradika-graphics. <3

A decade’s fleeted, since the last time that Joel Miller’s arcing, bedroom window’s framed your body; You’re nearly an apparition.

Your mere silhouette’s evoking long-neglected memories for Joel; Your private school’s fussy graduation. Whistling, from the bleacher’s humid, metallic plank. Joel’s abruptly blinking away his proud reverie.

Your haphazard, gauzy curtains aren’t proffering any privacy. Your dresser’s girlish; A dust-ladened and weathered wicker. You’re scrounging the half-dozen drawers, sorting teenaged remnants, Joel’s guessing.

It’s arguably morally awry, that he’s guessing at all. You’ve unearthed an ivory-colored pair of panties. You’re sampling the garment’s width, against your clothed waist; Your index finger’s hooking the pliant underwear and slowly stretching. Joel curses, “Fuck’s sake.”

Joel’s denim-clad groin’s growing taut; You’re unbuttoning your pants. His conscience’s hollering, QuitWatchingQuitWatching. Then, Joel’s belatedly swiping his curtain’s panel shut. The plaid, trembling fabric’s punishing him. You’re right there.

Your peripheral’s revealing that brown, tartan material’s now obscuring Joel Miller’s looming, perusing shadow.

Your phone’s deeply droning, near plummeting from your nightstand’s uneven, wickered top. You answer, “Hi.”

Dad’s beginning, “Hi, you.” Before, “Room ‘lright?”

You aimlessly nod, “Yeah. Need ‘t paint it, though.”

The flat, stark white’s reminiscent of an operating room. A scalpel amid your dominant, gloved hand; Your abandoned internship. You’re certainly color-drenching this bland, interim room.

Dad’s conveniently chirping, “Y’know, Joel’s headin’ over ‘t The Home Depot. ‘Jus asked if I needed anythin’ for work.”

You humorously say, “The Home Depot?”

Dad amusedly huffs, “The one ‘n only.” Then, “I’ll dial ‘im back. Tell ‘im ‘t bring ‘ya.”

You’re nervously inquiring, “He won’t mind?”

Dad’s chuckling, “Kid, seriously? ‘S just Joel.”

He hasn’t been just Joel, since his absurdly sexy appearance in Dad’s FaceBook album, dorkily titled, ‘Fishin’ Missions’. Dad’s askew lens, recording Joel’s roughened, veiny hand, sizably surpassing his fish’s ample breadth; His arm’s rind, rugged and sun-freckled.

That heathered-gray muscle-tee; Hued identically to Joel’s own silvery threads. Accentuating. Your horny musing’s interrupted, when the doorbell’s nostalgic ding’s reverberated. A leadened, salacious feeling’s pin-balling your rib’s conical-shaped cage.

You’re descending the stairway’s carpeted tread. A once-over’s rushedly ensuing, amid the entry way’s gritty mirror. You’re timidly turning the front door’s bulbous knob; Your skin’s avidly warming.

Joel’s gruffing, “Waitin’ on an invitation?”

You’re feignedly snark, “Go ‘head, Miller.”

Joel’s arousingly large. His belt’s leathered and suppled; Tapering his tender waist. You’re deliriously visualizing biting it. Your teeth’s individualized grooving, engraving Joel’s every-day accessory.

He’s beckoning, “C’mere. Settlin’ in okay?”

Your pulse’s embarrassingly hurried, as Joel’s hugging you. Your nose’s upturned, against his collar’s corduroy lapel; His inherent aroma’s autumnal. A heady medley of burnt cinnamon, earthy hay.

You breathlessly retort, “Y–Yes. ‘Jus fine.”

His beard’s deliciously graying and scruffy; Bristling you. Joel’s inching away; A hand’s kneading your elbow’s point, “Grown. Ain’t ‘ya?”

You’re muttering, “Think anythin’ in my ‘ol dresser’ll fit?”

Joel rasps, “Be fittin’ somethin’ ‘a mine. Talkin’ like that.”

You teasingly tut, “Oh? Promise?”

His jaw’s tightening, “G–Get in my fuckin’ truck, ‘lready.”

The retail store’s unmistakingly orange and tan exterior’s materializing onward. Joel’s hushedly threatening, “Got ‘t behave.”

You’re amusedly assuring him, “Me? ‘Course.”

He’s backwardly parking. His arm’s generously imposing against your seat’s cushiony spine, “Lot ‘a clients ‘a mine, in ‘ere.”

His chin’s abutting along his broad, reaching shoulder’s top. Joel’s delectable, lofting nose’s leading his prominent side-profile; His pursed, upper lip’s capped under an impressive, stiff mustache. Your cunt’s pulsating. You need to rabidly rut against Joel Miller’s aging, sun-tinged face.

You’re resignedly sighing, “Fine.”

Joel replies, “Bratty fuckin’ girl.”

His accent’s aggressively Texan; Languid. Syrupy. You’re involuntarily leaking, beyond your underwear’s cottony corral. The archaic radio’s uttering early-seventies Linda Ronstadt, until Joel’s halting the ignition.

You murmur, “Any cute clients?”

Joel’s apparently unimpressed; He’s agitatedly rolling his coffee-shaded eyes. Tutting, “Best be ‘lone, when I find ‘ya.”

You’re unpromisingly shrugging, before evacuating his Ford’s heated interior. Whispering, “See ‘bout that, Miller.”

Your skin’s momentarily rasped, from the atypically frigid, October wind. The store-front’s decorated seasonally. There’s pallets, upon pallets, of pumpkins; A uniformed variety of classic orange and creamy white.

You’re distractedly mulling around carving or painting pumpkins, while Joel’s unexpectedly wrapping his freshly-shedded, heavy chore-coat against you; His hand’s comfortingly scrubbing your shoulder’s taut blade.

Joel’s deeply humming, “Better, darlin’? Hm?”

You’re instantaneously arming the clothing item’s perfectly tenderized sleeves, “M–Much, Joel.”

You’re leaning, subsequently touching his torso’s muscular crest. Joel’s thumbing your collar’s curving bone, “Warm, here?”

You whine, “Yes.”

Joel’s beginning to crane downard, until he’s chinning your shoulder’s trembling shelf. You’re gasping, as he’s fingering your loaner, Carhartt jacket’s bottom button, from behind. His arm’s caging you.

His calloused pinky’s reaching, before flitting your pant’s folded fly, “And, here?” He’s wagering, “Warmer?”

You’re groaning, “Ngh. Y–Yeah.”

Joel carnally scolds, “Filthy fuckin’ girl. A–Askin’ me ‘bout other men? While your pussy’s pre-heatin’ ‘f me?”

His finger nail’s raking your zipper’s aluminum teeth. Joel’s tauntingly whispering, “Ain’t brattin’ much, now.”

You’re begging, “L–Let’s leave.”

He’s instantly moving. You’re incoherently stunned, as Joel’s adopting an orange-colored cart, “Find ‘ya in the paintin’ section?”

You’re spluttering, “J–Joel. ‘S not what I meant.”

Joel’s winking, “Darlin’, I know what ‘ya meant.”

He’s ambling ahead, bypassing the automatic door’s yawning jaw. Your dominant hand’s flexing, electrocuted in palpable pleasure; It’s reminiscent of Mr. Darcy. You’re involuntarily summoning an image of Joel, dressed as the aforementioned aristocrat, participating in Halloween.

Joel’s robust shoulders, heaving against an incompletely unbuttoned, wispy shirt. His chest’s foggy-toned, furling hair. His head’s rain-rustled, curly strands. A high-waisted trouser; Ascending his belly’s delectable slope, whilst canopying his cock’s dilating weight. You know it’s big.

You’re unfocused; Footing the hardware store’s threshold. There’s an assortment of motion-triggered, Halloween decorations erected nearby. You’re curiously setting one, an animatronic ‘Boogeyman’. The creepy distraction’s festively futile. Joel Miller’s still permeating your skull.

The paint attendant’s named ‘Ruger’. A gun manufacturer namesake’s befitting, given Ruger’s camouflaged, distressed t-shirt. He’s an Austin, Texas quintessential, twenty-something male; A ‘modernized’ mullet-and-mustache duet? Check. A smothering of ‘patchworked’ tattoos? Check.

He’s flirtatiously greeting, “Sugar. How can I do ‘ya?”

You’re brandishing an array of complimentary paint-swatches, against his counter’s crest, “Do color-matchin’?”

Ruger’s endorsing, “Best ‘round.”

You’re inwardly wincing, but Joel’s abruptly approaching. So, “Ain’t doubt it. Clothes shouldn’t be an issue?”

Your palm’s routing your breast’s pocket; Ruger’s murmuring, “T–That jacket? ‘Moss’ by Carhartt. Got codin’.”

You’re falsely enthusiastic, “Really? You’re the best.”

Ruger tosses an isolated thumb, signaling to his computerized, machine mixer, “Told ‘ya.” Asking, “Color’s goin’ in your bedroom?”

You’re agreeably nodding, “Yep.”

Ruger’s grinning, “Lucky paint.”

You begin, “You? Feelin’ lucky?”

Joel’s reprimanding, “Lucky that I ain’t kill ‘im.” Before, “Passin’ at my girl. Gettin’ paid ‘t do that?”

Ruger’s answering, “N–No, Sir.”

Joel’s deeply repeating, “No.” Then, “Two gallons ‘a Sherwin-Williams. Emerald. Matte finishin’, both of ‘em.”

You’re second-handedly embarrassed and incapable of meeting Ruger’s apologetic, parting peer. Joel’s efficiently emptying his cart’s plastic-composed basin, before rehoming his kindred supplies, upon the check-stand’s laminate surface. You muse, “Emerald’s two-hundred dollars ‘a paint?”

Joel’s genuinely offended, “Ain’t payin’. I’m gettin’ it.”

You’re avidly insisting, “Don’t have ‘t do that, Miller.”

Then, Joel’s rapidly reaching outward; Yanking your belt’s fraying loop. You’re firmly tugged against him. He drawls, “Want ‘t do it.”

His breath’s cinnamony and smoky; An inebriating merging of gum and cigarettes. You dizzyingly respond, “Y–Yeah?”

Joel’s languidly leaning, before brushing his nose’s point against your ear’s lobe, “Yeah.” Whispering, “Paintin’ your bedroom the color ‘a my jacket? What’s that ‘bout, darlin’ girl?”

You’re shyly stammering, “D–‘Dunno.” Accusing, “Sayin’ aloud, ‘my girl’? What’s that ‘bout, Joel?”

Joel’s grinning, “That? Want ‘t find out?”

You’re panting, “Oh?”

His palm’s barreling behind; Stuffing his pant’s pocket. You’re savoring the rattling sound of his key-ring’s recovery. Then, Joel’s rapidly shoving the mixed-metal wad inside your rear-pocket. His bulky hand’s harshly kneading your bottom’s fleshy heft; Your cunt’s thumping.

He demands, “Go ‘head. Right behind ‘ya.”

You’re ocularly rummaging around Joel’s unkempt vehicle. American Spirits. Matches. A thrifted, Patsy Cline cassette. Big Red. Coins. A dog-eared, John Steinbeck novel. The sexual suspense’s dampening your sternum; Sticky. Sweaty. You’re beginning to desperately undress.

The Carhartt coat’s discarded. Your flimsy henley’s unbuttoned. Joel’s egressing from Home Depot’s aromatic interior, before pausing at the Garden Center’s check-stand. No way. A hundred-dollar note’s being thrusted, from Joel’s girthy hand, unto the cashier’s gloved palm.

This broad, burly man’s buying you fucking pumpkins. He’s pensively plucking them. His brow’s furrowing; His forehead’s wrinkling. Joel’s literally examining them, heeding any blemished gourds. You’re bewilderedly blinking, as Joel’s palming them, like they’re… Basketballs.

Your waist’s winding, impatiently rutting against his truck’s benched seat; Your pant’s denimed seam, slotting your cunt’s drooly entry.

Then, Joel’s jerking the back-seat’s door ajar. Asking, “Pick ‘em ‘lright? Did ‘ya see?” His scruffy chin’s jutting, at his quartet of pumpkins.

You’re swallowing, “Y–Yep. Thanks, Miller.”

Joel’s gruffing, “C’mon. ‘Course, pretty girl.”

His arm’s effortlessly flexing, tanned and veined, amid transferring his plastic-bagged supplies. Joel’s guessing, “Need ‘t be fucked, in ‘ere?”

You shamelessly moan, “Mhm.”

He’s teasingly whistling, “Yeah? Ain’t far from home, baby.”

You’re grumbling, “T–Too far.”

Joel’s patronizing, “Gettin’ cocked, in ‘ere? ‘S really slutty.”

You sigh, “Don’t care. C’mere.”

The shopping cart’s rapidly returned, before the driver-seat’s groaning under Joel’s jeaned ass, “Needy pussy.” His construction boot’s tamping the brake’s pedal, “Ain’t it? Get ‘t fingerin’. Feed me somethin’ warm.”

Your brassy button’s unhitching; Your toothy zipper’s buzzing. You’re hurriedly shrugging the denimed material downward; Ankling it. His mouth’s prematurely parting. Your underwear’s transparent, flooding in arousal. Joel’s dangerously speeding, departing the feebly-populated parking lot.

He’s feverishly warning, “There’s an empty hay field, ‘round back. Bit ‘a off-roadin’. Yeah?” Directing, “Give ‘em.”

Then, Joel’s toughly tugging your panty’s waist-line. You’re shamelessly obedient; Your fabric restraint’s promptly removed. His beefy, index finger’s impatiently suspended; Pumping. Your pussy’s watering his passenger-seat’s cushioning; Your underwear’s encircling Joel’s commanding digit.

The all-terrain truck’s bumpily impeling, devouring the barren field’s acreage. Eyes involuntarily shutting, Joel’s blindly steering, inbreathing your underwear’s deluged gusset. His nostril’s flaring. His cock’s pitching, prodding below his crotch’s denimed rein; You’re stuffing your pussy’s well.

Joel’s harshly moaning, “Listen ‘t that. Cryin’ fuckin’ hole.”

You’re whimpering, “M–Mm. Ngh.”

He’s greedily ringing your plunging wrist; Yanking. The rapid removal’s obscenely squelchy. Then, Joel’s immediately slurping your index and middle finger’s balmy glaze; Your thumb’s pinning upon his chin’s graying, scratchy underside. The truck’s recklessly slowing.

Joel’s haphazardly parking. The halting, howling tires begin spewing an autumnal confetti; A misting of dry hay and auburn leaves. You’re suddenly hoisting against Joel’s bulging lap; He’s instantaneously hammering, before spitting out your moistened finger’s duet.

And, Joel Miller’s finally kissing you. His groan’s pouring, beyond your esophagus. Licking your mouth’s rippled roof; Siphoning your tongue’s humid pad. Your naked pussy’s pouncing upon Joel’s clad cock. He’s thumbing your cheek-bone’s divot and cupping your jaw-line’s hind; Whimpering.

He’s arousingly exhaling, “Ngh. ‘S fuckin’ tasty.” Then, Joel’s dropping horizontally. Laying, “Fixin’ ‘t guzzle ‘ya.”

His head’s hedging the passenger-side’s door; His boot’s budging the driver-side’s door. You’re drawing upward, as Joel’s guiding you. Your dewy hole’s ramming against Joel’s awaiting face; He’s nosing your clit’s distended mound. Your innard thigh’s twitching, “G–God. Feel fuckin’ good.”

Arousal’s rigorously sopping Joel’s beard. His mustache’s coated and creamy. Your behind’s leveraging; Ass firmly spreading. Joel’s maneuvering and manhandling you. He’s lapping, nearly pornographically swigging. You’re internally levitating; Your spine’s liquefied, “A–Ahhhh. Joel, Joel.”

Joel’s innocently whispering, “What?” Then, “Asshole’s puckerin’. Need pluggin’?”

You’re deliriously nodding, Yes. His center digit’s tantalizingly traveling below. Brushing your clit’s crest; Scooping your cunt’s slick. Your fluttering, furthest hole’s aching, against Joel’s circling, finger’s pad. He’s beginning to tandemly traverse; Eating. Fingering.

Your stomach’s tightening, as Joel’s knuckling you. His head’s nuzzling; Shaking. His beard’s rigidly whiskering, across your core’s folding, before he’s relentlessly sucking. Your clit’s flickering; You’re blindingly cumming. Joel’s airily humping; His cock’s englarging.

He’s hoarsely speaking, “A–‘Atta girl.” Praising, “Drippin’ inside ‘a my fuckin’ ear?” Sniffling, “Up my fuckin’ nose? Good, wet girl.”

You’re dizzyingly horny, “Miller. PleasePleasePlease.”

Joel’s grinning, “Please?”

Your puffy pussy’s eagerly lowering, “Yes.” You’re gyrating, against his lap’s ridge, “Fuck. F–Fuck me.”

He’s grunting, “Fuck ‘ya? Fuckin’ slut. Keep beggin’.”

Joel’s leaning upright and sitting upward. Your disoriented shirt’s being tossed away. Licking your throat’s trail; Skimming your nipple’s peak. You’re nakedly stamping atop his torso’s towering mass. Your skin’s goose-bumping, “Ngh. P–Please, Daddy.”

His brow’s amusedly arching, “Y–Yeah?” Demanding, “Who’s.” Thrust. “Your.” Thrust. “Daddy?”

Promising, “You.”

Joel’s approvingly nodding; His driver-side door’s thudding open. His arm’s muscularly solid, whilst effortlessly upholding you. You’re burrowing, at his throat’s protruding, pulsing vein, as he’s regressing vertical. His anterior boot’s pressing upon decaying hay; A gelid gust of wind’s wreathing.

He’s attentively mumbling, “Shiverin’? Let’s warm ‘ya. Hm?”

His beard’s balmy and cunt-scented. You’re being settled, amongst his driver-seat’s aged upholstering. You’re amorously fidgeting, as Joel’s flitting his belt’s metallic prong. The accessory’s yanked from his fading Wranglers, as Joel’s abutting the cushion’s edge; His zipper’s deliciously drawing.

The belt’s noisily plummeting; A leathery slap, against the floor-mat’s rubbery surface. Your waist-line’s eagerly grasped, whilst Joel’s positioning your pussy’s twingeing hole. He’s hissing, during an arousing upheaval, of his cock’s entirety; The seeping tip’s bypassing his belly-button’s nook.

His t-shirt’s becoming translucent, as pre-cum’s dampening it. You’re following the ample shaft’s terse twitching. Blurting, “Need. That.”

Joel’s attractively smug, “This?” He’s robustly swatting his cock, across your clit’s cummy summit, “Think it’ll fit?”

You whimper, “F–Fuckin’ make it.”

He’s lowly whispering, “Dirty fuckin’ mouth.” Then, Joel’s abruptly and aggressively entering, “Go ‘head. Keep mouthin’ off.”

The truck’s boisterously creaking, as Joel’s ruggedly rutting. Your cervix wall’s convulsing, crowning his cock’s head. Your shiny spend’s glossing Joel’s graying, pubic tuft. His groin’s angrily clobbering, striking your cunt’s doused expanse. You’re incoherently stammering, “N–Ngh.”

Joel’s responding, “Can’t hear ‘ya, bratty girl.”

You’re painfully stretching, inside-and-out. His jeaned, lower-portion’s gloriously grating your thigh’s rear. Your right-side leg’s hooking through the steering wheel’s median; Your left-side leg’s perching, against Joel’s widening shoulder’s tier, as he’s weightily falling forward, “Say somethin’?”

Your limb’s achingly pinned vertically; Your body’s contorting, creating an indecent, ninety-degree angle. His focused, sun-wrinkled forehead’s grown moist. His furling, silver-tinged strands begin cascading. The benched seat’s dilapidated stitching’s imprinting, decorating your back’s extent.

Your taint’s repeatedly thwacked, by Joel’s brimming balls. His angle’s hitching, hitting that spot. You’re shrieking, “A–Ah.”

Joel’s accordingly bottoming-out, “Doin’ good. Stretchin’ well. Ain’t it?” His hip’s briskly oscillating, “Good girl. Good pussy.”

You’re shuddering, “D–DaddyDaddyDaddy.”

The pleasure’s pouring. Your cunt’s palpitating; Your spine’s taut. Joel’s resultantly stroking, maintaining his pacing, but drilling harder. He’s licking, crossing your hung jaw-line’s road. His tenderized t-shirt’s feathering, against your exposed nipples, over-sensitively tapering them.

Joel’s rasping, “C’mon. Flood my fuckin’ truck.”

His tone’s arousingly languid. That’s it. You’re breathlessly cumming. Every extremity’s tightening, before blissfully dissolving. Your vision’s brightly impaired. Your climaxing moan’s fractured, as Joel’s ingesting it. His mouth’s restorative, whilst being ruining. You’re whispering, “Flood me.”

He’s whimpering, “Y–Yeah?” A prominent vein’s materializing, against his throat’s girthy rind, “Ain’t wet ‘nough, ‘lready? Greedy hole.”

Then, Joel Miller’s hotly erupting. His length’s flinching. Your fatigued, flittering hole’s wringing him. His aging brow’s bunching; You’re caressing his cinched expression. Your right-side leg’s being removed, amidst the steering wheel’s medial opening. Joel’s comforting, “Hurtin’?”

You’re indifferently shrugging; Joel’s unconvinced. His palm’s expertly massaging your leg’s weary ligament. You’re pathetically sighing, making Joel laugh. He’s kneading your knee-cap’s exhausted muscle, before fingering your calf-tendon’s aspiring knot. You stammer, “T–Thanks, Miller.”

Joel’s questioning, “How ‘bout Lowe’s, ‘morrow?”

You’re grinning, “Sure. If ‘ya sleep-over, tonight.”

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miyukisu · 5 months ago

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Take a Bite, Chew Me Up .ᐟ

❤︎ | making bets about aphrodisiacs working or not ╰ feat. shidou ryusei x reader

tags - best friend! shidou, college au, dares, chocolate aphrodisiacs, p*rn with slight plot, fingering, pussy eating (Ryu calls your pussy "her"), Ryu is a menace, going raw, p in v, aggressive sex (?), dirty talk, pronebone, doggy, creampies, reader becomes cockdrunk

minors do not interact

You weren’t sure how, but you slowly became friends with Shidou Ryusei. Maybe it was because you tolerated his crazy or maybe because he felt that he could slow down a bit whenever he was with you. Either way, you found yourselves to be quite the close friends. Close enough that you two regularly had movie nights at your apartment. Your place was nearer to campus, so it was the go-to for your hangouts.

It didn’t take long for him to feel comfortable around your place. He’d grab whatever snack’s available in your cupboard or fridge and plop right on to the couch to scroll through Netflix.

“Jeez. Got anything besides a bag of chips?” He asks, shouting from the kitchen since you were in the bedroom.

“Deal with it or run to the convenience store,” you shout back.

Shidou clicks his tongue, settling for the single bag of chips. He dejectedly grabs it from the cupboard and makes his way to the living room where the two of you will soon watch a movie. He immediately spots a thin box of chocolate on the coffee table and wastes no time checking it out. The packaging looked fancy after all. In his head, nice packaging meant expensive and expensive meant delicious.

“You should’ve said you had some chocolate here. I was craving for something sweet anyw—“ he cut himself short, realizing what he was holding in his hand wasn’t an ordinary box of chocolates. The font was small, but it couldn’t be missed. It clearly said aphrodisiac. A smirk crosses his face at the discovery.

He shouts for you again. “Hey! Come here for a sec.”

You figured that fixing up your bedroom could wait until he had left for the night… or maybe in the morning. It was almost time to start a movie anyway, so you might as well meet him in the living room. As you did, you saw him dangle the thin box between his fingers. “I wonder what this is?”

You shook your head at his rhetorical question, fully knowing what he was getting at. “Don’t get the wrong idea, Ryu. A friend gave it to me for shits and giggles. It’s not like I believe in aphrodisiacs.”

Shidou tilted his head a bit, observing your features and trying to see if you were telling the truth. But you were; there was no scientific evidence to prove the wonders of an aphrodisiac. If anything—it was absolute pseudoscience. Anyone who believed it is an idiot, you thought.

After a moment of thinking, his usual smirk returns to his face as he looks straight at you again. An idea popped into his mind. It wasn’t a clever one, but an interesting one. “Wanna make a bet then?”

“If the aphrodisiac works?”

“Mhm, or are you too pussy to try?”

You scoff before taking a few steps towards him, snatching the box from his hands. “Alright, alright, no need to provoke me. I was gonna prove you wrong anyway.”

And to show your sincerity, you opened the box yourself—taking a piece of chocolate. You offer for him to take the opposite side and snap it half along with you.

With eyes fixed on each other, both of you held the small piece of chocolate near your lips—preparing to engage in this ridiculous bet. You and Shidou silently counted to three before chucking the sweet treat in your mouth.

It was gooey; there was caramel inside. The taste wasn't all too amazing, but it was alright. The chocolate was a little stiff, but it didn't take long before the both of you could swallow it—officially starting the bet.

"Well, let's get started on that movie. Shall we?" he suggests. His eyes narrowed and his look of anticipation was coupled with the widest shit-eating grin ever.

────────────

You sat a good distance away from him on the couch like usual. Your eyes never dared to leave the TV screen. The movie had been running for either 15 minutes or an hour now—you weren't entirely sure.

After all, it was impossible to focus at the moment. An overwhelming heat steadily travelled down your core and out to your limbs. Your head felt lighter, like you just wanted to throw it back against the backrest of the couch.

But giving into these feelings meant defeat for you and an easy victory for him. Besides, you didn't want to admit it yet. Perhaps you were feeling feverish for other reasons.

Although, whenever you'd steal a glance at him—Shidou was unusually calm. Sometimes he'd make a comment about the movie, but other than that, there were no signs of the aphrodisiac taking effect.

You shuddered at the possibility that maybe it did work on certain people only. It would be troublesome if you were the only one thrown in that predicament.

Soon enough, however, you realize that the feverish symptoms wasn't... a fever at all. You knew because an intense desire of wanting to be touched and wanting to touch someone came over you. That and your cunt that was getting wetter by the second.

You could still win, you thought. Shidou's clueless to your struggles and if you didn't say anything—it would stay that way.

But Shidou Ryusei had his methods and he was in this bet to win it.

────────────

You were too hyperfixated on the fact that your whole body was on fire and you were wet enough that it would seep into the sofa. He took that as an opportunity to scoot closer to you, slowly and steadily.

You were only snapped back to reality when you felt a rough palm on the top of your thigh. "You're stiff as a board. Still breathing? You haven't moved an inch for like an hour."

As much as you wanted to yank your thigh away, he made sure to keep you still—squeezing the flesh of your thigh. You can't help but think about him moving it a bit higher, somewhere you wanted to feel reprieve.

He smirks once more, liking how things are going in his favor. "You sure you don't want to admit defeat yet?"

He was met by your intense glare. "And why would I do that?"

"Because the chocolate's clearly working. Isn't it?"

You scoff, trying your damn hardest to play it cool. "I told you—aphrodisiacs aren't real."

The words that left your lips betrayed the overwhelming sensations of your body. His hand on your thigh alone was enough to make you restless.

"Look me in the eye then—tell me you aren't feeling anything."

Shidou was taunting you and being the stubborn girl that you are, you bravely accepted that challenge. With your eyes fiercely fixed on his, you spoke firmly. "I'm absolutely fine. I don't feeling anything."

A small, but scheming, smile crossed his lips. He slowly shook his head as if he knew you were blatantly lying.

"That so? Well, hate to break it to you but... I'm definitely feeling something," he then leans in to whisper in your ear. His breathy voice sent a jolt down your spine. "I really want to ravage something right now."

His words had an undeniable effect. With your senses overloaded, you failed to notice how he had slowly pushed you down on the sofa. Shidou hovered over you, devilish smile apparent on his face.

"Tell me again how you don't feel anything. C'mon."

"I told you. I don't feel anyt—nngghh..."

Shidou cut you off by leaning in and pressing his chapped lips against the warmth of your neck. You squirmed, shocked by how strongly you felt the effects of his actions. The aphrodisiac was increasing your sensitivity like crazy.

"You sure falter quickly huh?" he teases again. "Your words may be just lies, but your body will always tell the truth, right?"

You soon understood what he meant when he creeped his hand down into your shorts, then into your panties. His fingers swiped your dripping slit. He flashed a cocky smirk while feeling you up.

The situation you were caught in was incredibly erotic and his actions served to lessen the restlessness you've been feeling for more than an hour now. To some extent, you needed this. You wanted this.

But you stood your ground. "That doesn't mean anything..."

A chuckle escapes him. "You mean this weeping pussy isn't craving for some dick in it? I wonder what it's trying to tell me then."

"Shut up..."

He shrugs playfully before sitting up straight. "If you don't wanna talk to me then," he hooks his fingers on the garter of your shorts, "I'll talk to her instead."

In one swift motion, he pulls off your flimsy shorts along with your panties. He chucked the garments to the side without a care in the world and lifted up your hips to allow him better access.

Shidou wasted no time and ran his warm tongue up your slit. You wanted to arch your back, but with the way he has you right now, it was too difficult.

He suckled and lapped at every part possible, giving special attention to your swollen clit. He made sure to feast while looking at your face—how it contorted in pleasure. Seeing you all fucked out sent a rush of blood down to his dick.

"Hey... your pussy's telling me how much she likes me," he teases before darting his tongue into your hole. The moans you so helplessly tried to suppress finally escaped you.

At this point, it was useless to deny it. His tongue felt insanely good, but it was enough.

Your hand made its way to his messy hair, gripping it and pushing his head down further. You could feel him smirk against your dripping core.

"So," slurp, "fucking," suckle, "needy," lick, "for me."

You were a mess and he was to blame. Like you, he wanted more as well. He pulled away from your fluttering pussy and dropped your hips back on the sofa.

He grabbed the hem of your shirt, roughly pushing it up above your chest. His eyes shamelessly marveled at your breasts now that they were out of their confines.

The way he comically licked his lips made your cunt clench in anticipation. Both of his calloused hands began massaging the flesh on your chest, tugging and gripping without any mercy.

If the aphrodisiacs made you weak and needy, it certainly had the opposite effect on him; it made him aggressive and more dominant than he usually was. Anyone with common sense would know that the situation spells disaster.

Time spent away from your pussy felt like years as he continued to massage your breasts. You weren't sure if he was doing it on purpose, but it annoyed you all the same.

"Ryu... please..."

"Hah... please what? You gotta tell me properly, y'know?"

"I want it," you say while dragging your foot over his clothed cock. It was already hard, straining against his sweats. If you weren't so dazed, you would have seen the dark spot that formed due to his leaky tip.

A wide smile forms on his lips. "You want what? Huh?"

"Your dick... Want your dick... Please."

It was pathetic how you practically begged for it without any ounce of shame. Though, he found it incredibly arousing—attractive even. Lucky for you, there was nothing else that he wanted but to finally stick it in you. Raw.

He hurriedly pushed his sweats down, just enough to get his cock out. A wave of relief washed over him simply by letting it free, hitting his abdomen before pointing towards you.

All of your senses had gone out the window at his point. Condoms? It could wait. It didn't matter.

What mattered was that you wanted that itch to be scratched. That thirst to be quenched. Your pussy to be fucked.

If the aphrodisiac caused any similar effect on you, it would be that it put you on that one track mind—to fuck until nothing of you was left.

This time, his calloused hands grabbed your knees, pushing your legs out to give him better access. His gaze was intense and he was almost drooling at the sight.

He prayed for this meal that he was about to have in his mind before shoving his entire cock inside. A strangled moan escapes your lips as your hands find something to hold on to.

The heightened sensitivity was something unexpected, causing him to nearly fall on top of you. But he was quick enough to support himself on his arms, a hand on each side of your head.

"Shiiiiiit. This is the stuff," he whistles. He observes the look on your face and how lost you were in the pleasure. "You still here with me? Haaaah... you're too sensitive."

He slowly began moving his hips. As much as he wanted to go faster, he feared that he'd bust too quickly. Not that it was a problem; he was sure that his dick won't go down even after another round. But it was all a matter of pride and his gigantic ego.

Shidou wanted you to cum at least twice before he did.

But when he finally found his footing, he increased the pace without warning. It had you holding on to his large forearms as he bullied his cock into you relentlessly.

A string of moans left your mouth, met with his own grunts. The sounds that reverberated in the room was downright filthy. It wouldn't be much of a shock if your neighbors heard your trip to poundtown.

The bones of his hips prodded into your ass at every thrust. You were sure you were going to be in pain tomorrow, but it was worth it for every moment of pleasure you were feeling now.

In fact, you were so fucked out, that you barely noticed the way he had turned you so that you were flat on your tummy. Your cheek was smooshed against the rough texture of the couch while your weak arms flailed to the side.

He had you in pronebone and it unlocked a new world of pleasure for both of you. A particularly loud moan erupted from the depths of you, urging him to go even faster.

Shidou had one leg planted on the floor and another digging into the couch to gain more stability which he effectively used in fucking you even faster.

"Fuuuuuck, I wanna do it inside," he groans. "Can I do it inside?"

"Inside... do it... do it inside," you mumbled.

Enough said.

He easily lifted your hips off the sofa, now putting you into a doggy position. Shidou liked this better; it felt deeper—closer even. Though, his pace never slowed. You were too out of it to tell exactly, but he could have gone faster.

The grip on your hips was bruising. Your body was being torn apart as you held on to the edge of the sofa while he kept pulling you towards his aching cock.

Although, it ceased to ache eventually—at least slightly. He blew a thick load into you.

"Aww shit. That was so fucking good."

You felt his cock twitch as it let out the last few spurts. Shidou let it stay there, albeit it hasn't softened all that much. He wanted to feel you flutter around him first. Your pussy had him clenching his jaw and squeezing your ass.

After a while, he pulled out, slapping his tip against your folds playfully. It made him smile.

He watched as his cum dribbled out of your poor hole. The sight alone made him want to cum all over again. But instead, he landed a sharp slap on your ass... like a seal of approval.

A satisfied sigh leaves his lips. "We gotta buy more of that shit. It's magic."

Oh, and it seems that he did win the bet. Guess what happens to the loser?

©kzyluvr do not repost/reupload/translate any of my works on other platforms

╰ author's note aphrodisiacs aren't real btw, this is all just for the smut lol

#blue lock #blue lock smut #shidou ryusei #shidou x reader #shidou smut #shidou x reader smut #shidou ryusei smut #blue lock x reader #blue lock x reader smut #bllk #bllk smut #bllk x reader #blue lock shidou #blue lock x you #bllk x you #shidou x you #♪ ── luvr.fm // works

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nmakii · 2 months ago

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the look of love, the rush of blood

— what it means to date nagi seishiro, but not actually date him

yes this all happened sue me writers are thieves. omfg this id os humiliating to acc write down why is my life like this guys. btw can u guys like… gen tell me what u think ab this dynamic in comments i have to know im so bad at relationships

dating nagi seishiro, but not actually dating him means staying up until 2 AM together. it’s finals week, and you’re supposed to be studying. but nagi wanted to play dress to impress with you, and promised he’d help you study after 5 or so rounds.

dating nagi seishiro, but not actually dating him means everyone at school thinking you’re dating. even reo asked if you have feelings for him, and when you insistently said no, he replied, “alright, alright..! just trying to make sure nagi doesn’t end up hurt.” so that nagi doesn’t end up hurt? what does that even mean?

dating nagi seishiro, but not actually dating him means starting volleyball together. you always meant to pick up a sport sooner or later, but you were too old. it’ll be embarrassing to pick one up this late! you told nagi about this, and he said, “i mean… it’s a lot less running than in football, so maybe i’ll try it out with you?”

dating nagi seishiro, but not actually dating him means him watching your favorite anime for you. nagi always said that it wasn’t his type of show, you never really expected him to actually watch it. but one day you get a message— “finished s1, but i cant find s2… not on netflix? :x” from then on, he practically enabled you to keep ranting about the show, and he even got a little shocked when you had told him a fake spoiler.

dating nagi seishiro, but not actually dating him means him insisting to pay him back, but not actually doing anything about it. occasionally, when nagi isn’t too tired, the two of you meet up for breakfast in the morning. he lives closer to school, so he usually always gets there earlier. you always ask him to buy your order and he agrees, only on the condition you pay him back. you always pay him back with baked goods, and he always eats them up. and, he still insists he wants his cash back! you’ve given him cookies and brownies worth more than 3 orders of pancakes, you’re starting to wonder if he just likes your baking.

dating nagi seishiro, but not actually dating him means hanging out after school. nagi trains a lot. he has to, apparently, in order to become the best striker in the world. but, it doesn’t mean he likes it. if he had it his way, he’d walk to the mall with you and share a cup noodle everyday after school. he’d love to just sit around the convenience store with you for forever— or at least until he wanted to go home. but unfortunately, that time is only limited to an hour before club training starts.

dating nagi seishiro, but not actually dating him means telling him about all the people you don’t like. nagi’s a pacifist. he likes to think that he’s a very peaceful and chill guy. there isn’t many people he actually hates. but apparently, you do. you tell him almost every week about at least one person who did you wrong, or a guy who keeps harassing you— it almost makes nagi think, ‘is it actually possible for one person to get harassed this much?’. nonetheless, he still listens and internally rolls his eyes when he sees one of the people you’ve mentioned.

dating nagi seishiro, but not actually dating him means him ditching his hang out to go with you. blue lock just won against the japan U20 team. no one thought they could make it. and as a reward, anri decided that they deserve some free time to themselves in the outside world. isagi had invited nagi, chigiri, bachira, and some others to hang out with him. but because he overslept, he just decided not to go… instead he went to your house. “hey, let’s go to an arcade today?” he asked. the two of you headed into your favorite arcade somewhere in shibuya and since he was so near the café he was gonna originally meet isagi at, he did intend to say hi… but that plan sort of went out the window.

“nagi… let me win for once, would ya?” you grumbled. “but, i’ve already got 15 wins, i don’t wanna lose…” he hums in return. and when he finally K.O.’s your character, you hear a loud gruff voice.

“hey, you pain-in-the-ass gamer prince!” it calls out. and by the disgruntled look on his face, it seems nagi already knows who it is. “yer gonna lose yer friends, ya jerk!” the voice suddenly runs in behind nagi and grabs him by the neck. you recognize that face, it was the #6 of last night’s game! “caught him red-handed!” reo laughs.

you’re suddenly a bit shy surrounded by all these new people, not to mention the fact that they’re basically mini-celebrities. “oh? who’s this one you’re hanging out with?” the boy in the beanie asks, walking up to you. you’re suddenly intimidated by the aura that surrounds him. “…wanna see some ninja arts?” he asks.

you’re tempted to say yes, you’ve never seen a ninja before. the choice is taken though when that aforementioned #6 and a boy with pink hair in an updo bun (he looks like a girl, but you’re sure he’s a guy since he was in last night’s game…) yell at him. “don’t go doin’ yer stupid seducing tricks, moron!”

ignoring all of that, nagi finally answered, “…this is s/o, my friend.” isagi nods, and reo almost looks like he wants to scoff at the title, ‘friend’. “so you ditched isagi to hang out with s/o? way to choose your priorities, nagi..!” reo laughs. “well, i haven’t seen s/o in weeks… and i’ve been seeing all of you too much…” he mumbles.

most of them look rightfully offended, most especially isagi, the boy with pink hair, and another boy with a brown and yellow bob cut. the three of them drag nagi over to the dart board as the boy with the bob hums, “let’s party! nya haaa! ♪”

reo grins and encourages you to follow the group, “c’mon, let’s hang! i know nagi especially will be really glad to have you along!” nagi would be glad? …pushing those thoughts aside, you agree to join them. “yeah… sure, i’ll join.”

#last part was made up to fit the univ but something like that happened on diddy…#not betaed lolol im so hungry #blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk x you #bllk #bllk fluff #bllk x reader #bllk manga #nagi seishiro #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi seishiro x you

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dailynnt · 2 months ago

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FRIENDS WITHIN TOUCHING DISTANCE

⊹ Summary: Jungkook and you, his childhood friend, live together in an apartment, sharing space as roommates. Your relationship, built on years of friendship, is gradually becoming strained by growing sexual tension. You decide to become friends with benefits, trying not to complicate your feelings. But Jungkook's world is not so simple. When you begin to realize that he is hiding something, you open the veil of his double life - a world of mafia, criminal activity, and risk that could ruin not only your deal, but everything you valued in each other.

⊹ Couple: Jeon Jungkook/ Fem!Reader

⊹ Characters: The Reader, Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, Min Yoongi, Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon, Jeon Hoseok.

⊹ 🔞 Age restrictions: 18+

⊹ 👩🏼‍❤️‍👨🏻 Relationships: ⚤

⊹ 📘 Number of part: 25/?

⊹ 🖇️ Tags: best friends, friends with benefits, slow longing, sexual tension, protected sex, unprotected sex, alcohol, drunken sex, inexperienced main character, mafia au, illegal trade, deaths of minor characters, weapons, swear words. Tags will be added as the story is written.

⊹ 👩🏼‍💻 From the author: I was supposed to write a completely different story, but my muse disappeared. So I wrote this story to replace my previous one for some reason. I had the idea for a long time and I just finished the first part, which I couldn't finish for more than 7 months. I wonder what will come of this story. The Jungkook I created here is not like himself at all, but maybe he could have been. So who likes to read fanfiction about friends who become lovers then please give this story a lot of love.

⊹ ⚠️ Warning: English is not my native language, so there may be mistakes in the text. Please don't get mad at me too much! Those under 18, please don't read this story!

≣ Chapter Index ↓

Part 1. These fucking rules

The clock read 10 am. You left your room to satisfy the hunger that was making your stomach cramp. You went to the fridge and opened it. There was nothing in it but eggs and milk.

Yesterday you spent the whole day at the university and came home late at night. You had lunch in the campus cafeteria and didn't eat anything else. So your hunger was intense. You remember reminding Jungkook, your best friend with whom you were roommates, several times that it was his turn to buy the groceries for the week. You even wrote him a list because you knew for sure that he wouldn't buy everything he needed, and it wasn't a good idea to eat chips and beer.

Obviously, Jungkook didn't do what he was supposed to. The result was an empty fridge. Jungkook must have had more important things to do than buy groceries. Your stomach made a high-pitched growl. You felt your anger grow in direct proportion to your hunger. You slammed the refrigerator door shut.

Your eyes fell on the couch. Clothes were scattered around and on the couch. You raised your eyebrows and walked toward the clothes. You were seething with anger, not only did this careless guy not do what he was supposed to, but he was also leaving a mess behind. You were going to talk to Jungkook about how he was breaking the rules you had made on the first day you lived together.

It was Jungkook's idea. You decided to move in together because the apartment you were living in was too expensive. You were a student on a scholarship and could barely make ends meet, and only a part-time job at a convenience store allowed you to pay your rent. But you had to quit that job because you started to fail in your studies. The university where you were studying was supposed to give you a good profession, and you wanted to help your parents, who lived in a small town near Seoul and made soy sauce. They put a lot of love into you and did everything they could to give you a decent profession and to make you feel good about yourself. That's why studying well was a big priority for you.

And then one hard evening, when Jungkook came to your place for a beer, you complained to him about how unfair life was. He suggested that you move in with him and pay only for food and utilities. At the time, you thought he was joking or had had too much beer, but it turned out he was very serious. That's how you started living together.

But as it turned out, living with Jungkook was quite a challenge. He didn't keep the house very clean and liked to bring girls over almost every night. At first, you put up with it, of course, feeling a little irritated by it. But when you were trying hard to study and staying up late at night, it was difficult to learn the material by listening to the moans in Jungkook's room. So you decided that in order not to interfere with each other's lives, you needed rules.

You suggested some rules to Jungkook, and he kindly agreed to them. But he almost never wanted to follow them, so you often had small arguments about them.

It happened this morning, too, when Jungkook didn't buy any groceries so you will have to go the convenience store near your house to buy some food. You were in a terrible mood. But you were even more angry when you found Jungkook's clothes and women's things scattered around. You stared at the door of his room as you realized that he had brought another girl over that night.

With your eyebrows raised, you went to the kitchen and fried an egg for yourself. You flatly refused to go to the store because you knew that if you did, you would definitely buy food for Jungkook. And you wanted to teach him a lesson.

You were sitting at the table eating an egg when Jungkook's bedroom door opened. A sleepy Jungkook came out of it. He didn't have a shirt on, just the shorts he often wore at home. His hair was sticking out in all directions and his lips were pouty. You felt make muddle inside. And you felt like this every time Jungkook was half-naked. Even though he was your best friend, you couldn't help but think that he was a man, and a pretty good-looking one at that. You quickly gave him a glare full of lightning and continued to click the phone.

Jungkook noticed you and purred in satisfaction and headed in your direction. He came up behind you and bent down to look at your phone.

"Good morning," you heard next to your ear. Jungkook's voice was low and deep because he had just woken up.

"Morning!" you said dryly and continued to read the group chat with your classmates. Jungkook immediately realized that you were in a bad mood. He looked at you for a few long seconds and decided to start a conversation with you again.

"Did you fry the eggs? Where's my portion?" - He asked. You continued to ignore your friend.

Jungkook was about to ask you why you weren't talking to him when his bedroom door opened. The girl with whom Jungkook spent the night came out. You and Jungkook looked at her. She had the typical appearance of the girls he usually brought home. Slender, not tall, and with long black hair. Of course her figure was perfect.

She was completely Jungkook's type. You were her absolute opposite. You thought that Jungkook would never like you. Every time you met another girl that your friend brought home, you compared yourself to them for some reason. You were tall, but certainly shorter than him, and you had dark blond hair. Your figure was beautiful, but you definitely weighed more than 60 kilograms.

Jungkook's this night passion was standing in only her underwear. She rubbed her eyes and when she noticed you and your friend looked at her, she was visibly embarrassed.

"Uh, good morning." - She said quietly.

"Good morning!" you mumbled. You felt uncomfortable. Irritation threatened to burst out of you. You suddenly wanted to leave. You stood up abruptly, almost hitting Jungkook who was hovering over you. You quickly put your leftover food in the sink and hurried to your bedroom.

When you got into your room, you slammed the door and fell onto your bed. The morning did not start well. You were angry at Jungkook for not following the rules you had set up with him. You had always been good at following them, but your friend didn't seem to care about them. You had to do something about it. You decided to talk to Jungkook and remind him that you two had made those damn rules and that if he didn't follow them, you would have to find another place to live. Of course you didn't want to move away from him. It was convenient and beneficial for you to live with Jungkook in a way. But the irony was that by saving money you were paying with your nerves.

It was about half an hour after you heard the door slam, which could mean that Jungkook's girlfriend had left. You needed to take a shower because you had go to the grocery store to buy food. So after waiting about 10 minutes, you took all the things you needed and left the room.

Your gaze quickly glanced around the living room and kitchen. Jungkook was nowhere to be found. The apartment was quite quiet. You thought that he had gone to sleep in his room or might have gone out. You felt irritated again. But maybe it was for the best that he was gone. You walked to the bathroom door and was about to open it when it opened and your eyes met big black eyes.

Jungkook's hair was damp, and he was shirtless and wearing shorts. You shivered. You felt the heat spreading through your body. You continued to stare at each other for no more than a second, but it felt like an eternity.

"Do you want to take a shower?" Asked Jungkook, still standing in the aisle. "I thought you were sleeping".

"Obviously, I want to take a shower!" You replied dryly, turning away from Jungkook. You didn't notice his eyebrows jump up.

"What's wrong Y/N? Why are you so angry this morning?" - Jungkook asked as he approached you.

"Are you seriously asking me why I'm angry?" - You turned to Jungkook, trying not to look at his beautiful body.

"I'm asking because I don't understand what's going on? Did I do something wrong?" - You stared at your friend in shock. How can he ask you if he did something wrong when he does it all the time?

"Just tell me, are you really stupid or are you pretending to be?" - You clutched the T-shirt in your hand. Jungkook laughed at your words. Does he think it's funny?

"I'm not a mind reader, baby. So you'd better come right out and say it." - Jungkook's calling you "baby" made you even more angry. Usually you liked this affectionate nickname, but not on this terrible morning.

"What am I supposed to say to you, ha-Jeon? I'm like a fucking parrot to you all the time, and you don't do anything I tell you!" You wanted to talk to Jungkook in a calmer manner, but since you were an emotional person, it was hard to contain the anger that had long been in you. Your heart was pounding and your ears were ringing. You didn't understand why you were angry, but the more often Jungkook broke the rules and your personal comfort, the angrier you became. You'd been studying a lot lately, and the exam was about to start. Your tension and fatigue were making themselves felt, and Jungkook's behavior wasn't helping your situation.

"Y/N calm down. Are you mad at me for not buying the groceries?" - You didn't answer thinking "Hallelujah you guessed it".

"I really wanted to do it, but Jimin called and I went to his place, and then he dragged me to the club." - You continued to drill Jungkook with a menacing stare and he felt more and more guilty.

"Of course, how can you say no to Jimin and not pick up another beauty to take her to bed!" - You was indignant.

"Oh come on, Y/N are you mad at me for bringing a girl again?" - Jungkook asked.

"No, genius." - You snapped. "I'm mad because you forgot about the fucking rules again."

"Rules?" - Jungkook sighed. "You're doing this again?"

"Again?" you repeated his words quietly. Jungkook didn't want to argue anymore and walked past you. The scent of Jungkook's shower gel that you loved so much filled your nostrils. You gave your friend a shocked look.

"Jungkook, we created those rules for a reason, so that we don't violate each other's boundaries." - You explained, standing behind your friend as he gathered his scattered belongings near the couch.

"We weren't too loud!" - Jungkook tried to make excuses, but he sounded annoyed.

"It's not about being loud or quiet. You brought a girl home again, even though we agreed that we wouldn't bring partners. You didn't buy the groceries, even though I reminded you three times yesterday to do so. You constantly leave things scattered around, and I only go and clean up after you." - You could not stand it.

"Then don't clean it up, I didn't ask you to!" - Jungkook snorted.

"Are you serious now, Jeon?" - You laughed with a bit of hysteria. "We've been living together for almost three months now and you haven't followed a single rule, even though you promised you would every time!"

"I tried." - Jungkook admitted. "But these rules are..." He paused to find the right word. "All I'm saying is that I want to do whatever I want in my house!" - Jungkook turned to you and you, catching the look in his big deer eyes, stared at him. For a few unsuccessful seconds, you tried to figure out how to react to his words, but all you felt was anger mixed with guilt. It was your idea to create these rules, but he agreed to them, why didn't he tell you something was wrong?

"But... I mean, yes, it's your house and you can do whatever you want, but we agreed together that it would be more convenient for us!" - You said in despair.

"So let's just forget these stupid rules." - Jungkook said. He dropped the things he was clean up. All you could hear was the sound of your own heart in your ears. You're going to have to find a new place to live. Jungkook is not comfortable living with you. You can't continue to study normally and live in a bachelor's house without food and with the prospect of seeing a new face every morning of the girl your friend brought over. You exhaled loudly and closed your eyes for a moment.

"Well..." - You stuttered. "If you're not comfortable living like this, I'll have to find another place to live." - Jungkook stiffened. His eyebrows reflexively drew together, showing his face in a state of deep misunderstanding of what you said.

"What do you mean?" - He said sharply. "Why would you want to find another home?" - You looked at Jungkook and saw him getting angry at the whole situation. Your heart was beating like crazy, and anger was in almost every cell of your body. But the thoughts running through your head made you feel guilty. You wanted to make life easier for both of you when you made up these rules, but it seems like Jungkook had a hard time following them. He was used to living a certain way of life, but when you moved in with him, all of his usual things became forbidden or restricted. Knowing his freedom-loving nature, you understood why he resisted. But he agreed, he had the opportunity to add his own rules or offer something of his own. He just agreed, and that's what annoyed you the most right now. He was deliberately breaking the rules even though he knew how you would react.

Jungkook walked over to you. He stopped right next to you. You were only one step away. You did not take your eyes off him and tried to look only into his eyes. The fact that Jungkook was not wearing a shirt did not make your condition any easier. You always felt uncomfortable when he was naked.

"Y/N, let's calm down. You don't have to look for another home. You can stay with me. Let's just live without any of these stupid rules. Just together. As friends." - Jungkook wanted to touch you, but you took a step back.

"How do you envision that, Jeon?" - You huffed. "We're going to live without food in the fridge, you're going to bring a new chick home every night and I'm going to greet her cheerfully every morning. We'll live in an apartment where things are scattered and sometimes we'll have to clean them up. Or maybe we'll have fun when I bring my boyfriend here and he fuck me so you can hear my moans. Or bring friends from the university and sit here until the morning drinking beer or soju. Make life chaotic and have fun." - You almost burst into tears. Jungkook stared at you in confusion and surprise.

The words about your moans echoed in his head. "She's bringing her boyfriend? Does she have a boyfriend?" - Jungkook thought.

"Listen, Jungkook. I can't live like this. I am sincerely grateful to you for taking me in. But we are not a contractual marriage couple. I don't want to follow you around and clean up the mess you make. If we live together, we have to respect each other's boundaries. That's why those added rules were invented. But if you're not comfortable with them because I want you to, then I really need to move out." - You finally finished your monologue and exhaled heavily. Jungkook was silent for a few more seconds and then laughed to your surprise. Quietly and almost mockingly. Your face was again distorted by anger.

"Oh my God, you just gave me a good one." - Jungkook chuckled. "You've been holding it all in for so long. You should have told me earlier." - You thought you were going to strangle him. This arrogant half-naked man who is supposed to be your best friend.

"You think this is funny? I..." - You wanted to finally tell Jungkook what you thought of him, but he suddenly grabbed you in a hug. Without the possibility for you to move at all. He pinned you down so that your arms were pinned at your sides. You struggled in his metal grip, but to no avail. The struggle didn't last long, just a couple of minutes, and you didn't have the strength for more. You calmed down just as Jungkook leaned against the crook of your neck. His face was completely lost in your hair. You stood there for a few moments until you felt the vibration of his voice on your neck.

"Are you calm?" - You could feel your friend's breath leaving a trail on your neck, passing through your hair. "You're like that fire, baby." - You wanted to start pulling away again, but Jungkook held you tight, almost preventing you from breathing properly. "I'm so sorry." - He said. "I'm an asshole for not thinking about you." - Jungkook looked up, straightening up, and saw you almost holding back tears. He was hurt that he had brought you to this state.

"Please don't cry because of me, I'll follow your rules. And this time for sure." - He smiled lightly. "Just please don't go anywhere." - The tear you'd been holding back for so long ran down your cheek. Jungkook immediately wiped it away, not wanting to see you cry.

"I'm sorry, I was wrong too. I should have talked to you calmly instead of getting angry and yelling at you. We should have talked about it normally." - And you finally burst into tears. Jungkook was embarrassed and held you close again.

"It's okay, baby. I deserved you to yell at me." - These words made you cry even more. "Hey, don't cry, it's okay. We've worked it out. Please don't do this, I feel like a fool for making you cry." - You wanted to calm down, but the emotions you had been holding in for so long finally broke free. You had to cry out all the anger that had been building up inside you.

Jungkook picked you up in his arms and walked over to the couch where things had been scattered until recently. He still held you and after that seat down with you on his knees. You were crying so much that you didn't realize where you were sitting. He comforted you by stroking your back.

It took some time for you to calm down. You were hardly crying anymore, just sobbing slightly. Jungkook looked down at your crying face.

"Your eyes are red now." - You met his big black eyes. And suddenly you realized that he was holding you in his arms. One of his arms was around your waist and the other one was around your legs. You felt pressed against his naked torso. Only your T-shirt separated your bodies. For a moment, you thought, "It was interesting to feel his body by my own." You blushed at the intimate thought and quickly forced it away.

"Hey, are you okay?" - Jungkook asked you, looking at your face again. You tried to laugh.

"I'm fine." - You said in a tortured voice. You felt Jungkook's body relax.

"I'm glad to hear that." - You continued to sit there, but you seemed to be the only one who felt awkward. Because Jungkook didn't want to let go of you. He kept stroking you, running his arm around your waist. You didn't say anything. You thought about what to say. Or should you just say that you had to go to the shower, because that's why you left the room. Jungkook leaned against your shoulder and said with a desperate voice.

"Let's not fight anymore over these damn rules." - Begged Jungkook. All you could manage was a soft "let's." You wanted to say it more firmly, but your condition did not allow you to.

"Y/N," - Jungkook called to you gently. "Let's not fight at all. I hate it when we fight!" - He confessed. You hated fighting too. Before you moved in with Jungkook, you hardly ever fought at all.

"I want everything to be fine with us. But it doesn't depend on me alone. I'm ready to compromise and solve all the problems at once." - You said.

"Then we have a deal?" - Jungkook held out his hands to you, extending his little finger and thumb. You smiled and intertwined your little finger with his and touched his thumb to seal your truce.

For a moment you sat there in silence and hugged each other. You wanted to tell Jungkook to let you go. But he was in no hurry. He seemed to like you sitting on his lap, or he was pretty sure you weren't going anywhere.

"God, we fought like we were married," - Jungkook said, laughing. You tapped him on the shoulder. What is he talking about?

"Don't be silly, Jeon. We were arguing like friends who just moved in together." - You said. Jungkook's face turned sly.

"You're be like that: I can't live like this. I'm going to leave you. I can't clean up after you all the time." - Jungkook laughed. His soft laugh both irritated and attracted you. "Doesn't that sound like something a wife would say to her husband?"

"If the world goes to destroyed and I'm told that I have to become your wife to save it, the world will die." - You replied sarcastically. Jungkook stopped laughing for a moment and looked at you with a challenge.

"No way!" - He didn't believe it. "You would love to marry me. I know you dream about me every night." - You were flustered by his words and almost boiling at the same time.

"Maybe in your dreams, Jeon. I think you're the one who dreams about me every night, or imagines my face when you look at that girl you're fucking." - You said in a triumphant voice as you poked your finger into Jungkook's bare chest.

"How did you know about that?" - Jungkook asked in a serious tone. "I confessed to you when I was drunk?!" You gasped at what you heard. You wanted to say something. Jungkook's seriousness made you believe that your joke was true. But your guess was shattered by your best friend's mocking laugh.

"You should see your face now!" - He said, almost laughing. You hit him again, but this time harder, but it seemed like it didn't matter to Jungkook. You tried to get up from his lap, but your attempt was unsuccessful, as your friend's strong arms pinned you down.

"You're a real ass. Let me go, I need to take a shower."

"I haven't finished talking to you yet." - Jungkook said in a purring tone. You tried to pull away.

"For example, I'm done talking to you. So go put some clothes on and go get some groceries, we need to make lunch." - You said.

"Yes, I'll go to the store right now. I'll even make us lunch, but you have to answer some questions for me." - Jungkook agreed and offered a deal.

You thought for a second, studying his sly look as it wandered across your face. He's definitely going to ask you something personal. What was he up to?

"And dinner, too, if you want to hear the answers to your questions." - You've outplayed your best friend. You finally stopped wriggling and sat down with your arms crossed over your chest. Jungkook didn't mind your conditions and smiled smugly.

"Deal." - He cleared his throat. "You said something today while we were fighting. You haven't told me anything lately." - You glanced over at Jungkook, who was obviously searching for words to ask you something. You wanted to laugh because it's usually not a big deal for Jungkook to ask you anything. And this applies to any topic. "Did you get a boyfriend?" - He finally asked. His eyes ran over your face, carefully studying your expression. He wanted to know if it was true, if you had found someone to fuck you so that he could hear your moans.

You expected to hear any question, but not this one. What makes him think you have a boyfriend? "You said something today while we were fighting."Jungkook's words echoed in your head. A puzzle formed in your head and you laughed.

"Oh my God, is that all you remember from what I said?" - You laughed. Jungkook looked at you, waiting for an answer. Of course, that wasn't the only thing he remembered. He also remembers how you said you were going to moan. "I don't have a boyfriend. Look at me. It's not physically possible with my study schedule." - You glanced over at Jungkook. He seemed... pleased? "I said it as a possible scenario." - Jungkook couldn't hide the relief he felt. He sniffed his nose out of old habit and asked another question.

"Good. Then I have one more question, and then I'll let you go. Have you ever had sex?" - You instantly blushed. Who even asks that question so directly? It's so...so...You seem to have forgotten how to think and speak. How you were supposed to answer questions.

It so happens that you haven't had sex. You didn't even date anyone. Studying took up all your free time, both at school and at university. The guys who met you almost immediately disappeared when they saw what a nerd you were. But you didn't care about those idiots because you didn't have time to meet anyone. Your friends and your studies were enough for you. It's not that you didn't think about getting a boyfriend. You're 23, but don't you have to study and become successful first, and then look for someone to date and have sex with?

Living with a friend who was a man under the same roof and who brought girls almost every night, and hearing those fucking moans made you think for a moment that you too want to feel hugged, kissed and made to feel so good that you moaned loudly. But you stopped yourself every time. First of all, you don't have time, and secondly, who would want to date a girl who only allows books in her bed?

You looked away from Jungkook and stepped your hands into your lap. Should you answer him or not? Will he mock me? Let him try and make me feel bad for him.

You were brought out of your thoughts by your friend's voice.

"Baby? I asked you something!" - He insisted.

"Why do you want to know that?" - Turning and meeting Jungkook's gaze, you said.

"Just tell me. I want to know." - He said firmly. Your heart started to race again. The blood was pounding in your ears. Why should you be worried? He's just your best friend. You're always honest with him. You know a lot about him because Jungkook likes to brag about his intimate accomplishments.

"No." - You said. "I didn't!" - Something strange is happening between you two today. Jungkook is acting strange. Even though he seems to be the same Jungkook, why can't you stop thinking about how he's making you feel.

Jungkook smiled lightly. "I thought so." - That was all he said. You wanted to know why he asked you that, but he let go of you, urging you to get up. He stood up after you and looked down at you from the height of his height. You had to tilt your head a little to look at his face.

"What would you like for lunch and dinner?" - Jungkook asked before you could ask your question. You felt a little embarrassed and answered: "Chajamyeon and Samgyopsal."

"I'll be back soon, you go take a shower." - Your friend said, picking up his clothes that he had thrown around yesterday. A moment later, Jungkook's broad, naked back disappeared behind his bedroom door.

⋮ ≣ Index ↓ ⋮ Next chapter ↱

#jungkook x reader #bts jungkook #bts #jungkook x f!reader #jungkook smut #jungkook #jjk smut #smut #frendship #jungkook friends with benefits #roommate #bts mafia au

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amorisxx · 3 months ago

Text

Snickerdoodle pt. iv

pairing: Art Donaldson x reader, Patrick Zweig x reader, Tashi Duncan x reader summary: Art comes out of retirement to test out his coaching skills. Your relationship with him continues to spiral. warnings: smut 18+, cheating, divorce, rough sex, piv, marijuana use, slight angst, hastily proofread word count: 7.7K divider by @cafekitsune <3 prev part | next part

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

Kaleb decides he wants to play tennis. Or that he wants to “get serious” about it. He’d done tennis camp every summer along with soccer camp, and he’d enjoyed it enough. But for some reason, he’s determined to be a tennis player now. You blame it on how much time he’s been spending around the Donaldson’s. Between the various play dates and carpooling, he and Lily have been attached at the hip.

The two of you are enjoying a quiet evening on a weeknight when he brings it up.

“Lily doesn’t really like tennis,” he tells you in between bites of mashed potatoes.

“Well that’s okay. Sometimes our friends end up having different hobbies,” you say.

“Hm,” he puts his finger to his chin, “kinda like you and Mr. Art?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well he’s like the greatest tennis player ever,” he says, spreading his arms out wide. “But you’re terrible at tennis. And you guys are friends right?”

His assertion has you placing your fork down. “Okay, first of all, I’m not terrible at tennis. Secondly, it’s really not fair to compare me to a professional tennis player, K, he’s had years of practice.” Then, you reluctantly think of the last thing he said. About the two of you being friends.

Images of Art kneeling above you in bed dance through your mind. You think of the last time you were with him. How he’d laid his cheek on your thigh while you threaded your fingers through his tufts of blonde hair. His gaze searing as he watched you in all your post-orgasmic bliss. Your chest was still heaving as you tried to recover.

You clear your throat.

“Yeah, um, I guess we are friends.” You avoid eye contact with Kaleb and pray he changes the subject. You don’t want to think about Art.

Unfortunately, your son is too young to properly read the room. If he was, he’d see the way you’re clenching your fork in your fist. Or he would’ve realized by now that his mom is a harlot. Instead of calling you out on your immorality, he turns to you with express earnestness. “I wanna play tennis like Mr. Art,” he says definitively.

He then furrows his little eyebrows and asks you, “you think I can be as good as him one day?”

You smile, reach over to smooth your palm over his curls, and tug his ear. You say what every parent would. “I think you can do whatever you put your mind to, my little monkey.”

He grins at you, dimple poking out.

After all, you’re almost certain this is just an eager phase prompted by Lily bringing Tashi to school for career day. Tashi mentioned to you that Kaleb was very eager to ask questions about her job. Apparently, he thought it was super cool that she “got to coach the best tennis players in the world.” You’re worried that before dinner is over he might ask you to put in a word with her about coaching him.

Once you’ve finished eating, tucked Kaleb in, and tidied up the kitchen, you finally get to relax with a cup of lavender chamomile tea.

Before you settle into the refuge of your bed, you make a note to sign Kaleb up for club tennis.

ᯓ

You’re at a gas station near Kaleb’s school when you realize your dumb credit card has a faulty chip. You grab your purse and lock the doors to your car, having been forced to go inside the store and pay for your gas the old fashioned way.

The door shuts behind you with a ring of a bell. The unmistakable smell of fuel fills your nostrils as it mixes with stale coffee and the emblematic stench of small convenience stores. You grumble when you see there’s a short line.

With a sigh, you take a detour down one of the narrow aisles to grab a pack of gum. You pick out a random pack of spearmint, but your inner child lingers on the yellow packaging of juicy fruit bubble gum sitting beside it. When you were little, your mom would’ve made you pick one or the other. Without a second thought, you pluck the yellow pack out from the shelf and head back towards the front.

On your walk back, you glance out the windows, checking to make sure the pump you’re parked at is still number 5.

The line is shorter now. There’s only two people. You think you recognize the dark head of the person standing at the counter. They’re digging through the back pocket of their jeans and pulling out a leather wallet when your cellphone dings. It’s an email notification from your boss. You read the subject header before dropping the phone back into your purse, hoping to avoid whatever stressor awaits you there for a couple more hours or so. When you look back up, you’re met with the face of the dark haired stranger.

His eyes meet yours. Patrick Zweig sends you a mischievous smile of recognition as he saunters toward you. He snaps his fingers. “I know you.”

“Hi, Patrick,” you say through your tight smile. The last time you’d seen him, he tried to blackmail you into going out with him. If he wasn’t so attractive, you’d probably be repulsed by him.

“Long time no see.” He pockets his package of Marlboros. “How you been?”

“Um just busy you know,” you hum. “You?”

He nods. “Same, same.” He looks you over, smile growing wider when he meets your eyes after lingering on your cleavage. He doesn’t even attempt to be discreet.

You scoff, rolling your eyes to the side.

Thankfully, the bald guy in front of you finishes up his transaction so you have an excuse to say “excuse me” to Patrick as you approach the register. You glance back when you hand your money to the bored cashier, catching one last glimpse of Patrick as he exits through the door. You nibble on the inside of your cheek, feeling the tiniest hint of disappointment.

You accept your change and two packs of gum and make your way back to your car. Not wanting to waste any more time at this point, you toss the plastic bag into the passenger seat and hurry to pump your gas.

You’re leaning against the trunk while the fuel fills your tank when you hear a small “hey.”

You’re startled as Patrick approaches you again. You look around suspiciously. “Um are you stalking me?”

“No.” He huffs out a laugh. “I was standing over there taking a smoke.” He points towards his beat up suv. You wonder why he doesn’t have a better car. You thought tennis players made money. “And I saw you. Didn’t get to say goodbye earlier.”

You click your tongue. “Well, bye.”

“Wait—I hope I didn’t rub you the wrong way last time.” He rubs his palm over the back of his neck. “I kind of have a fucked up sense of humor.”

“It wasn’t the joke,” you supply. “It was more so you trying to blackmail me into going on a date with you.”

He laughs. “Yeah, I don’t know why that didn’t work.” The grin he gives you sends a shiver down your spine.

This time, you smirk, your gaze tracing the length of his body, from his Nikes to the curly wisps of hair flying in the wind. The gas pump clicks, signifying that your tank is full. You don’t remove it right away because you’re busy letting Patrick type his number into your phone. You wish you could say you played hard to get, but that would be a lie of monumental magnitude.

You don’t actually intend to call him, content to let his number go forgotten in your phone. After all, what type of woman would get involved with the best friend of the man she’s having an affair with?

Later on, when you’re having a glass of wine, mommy duties complete for the night, you pause on his number as you tap through your phone. You inhale, take a sip from your glass, and quickly save his contact before swiping out of the app. You can blame it on your being slightly tipsy when you notice that he’s saved as “for a rainy day.”

ᯓ

It turns out that the tennis thing isn’t just a phase. You don’t mind of course. You’d always support your kid in whatever he pursued. The only issue is that Art fucking Donaldson thought it would be a good idea to train little Kaleb. As if you needed more reasons to be around the man.

You’d told him that you didn’t think it was necessary because your son was only eight years old. Surely, he wouldn’t need a retired professional tennis player to train him. His tennis lessons at the local club would certainly suffice. Plus, you imagined he had more important things to attend to than give private lessons to a third grader.

On a random weeknight, you’d gone to pick Kaleb up from a play date with Lily, hoping to grab him and get back home before the rain got any worse. Art had greeted you at the door, placing a hand on the small of your back.

He decided to bring up the topic again. Even Tashi, who was usually busy with training of her own, chimed in, claiming it would be a good opportunity for Art to find real meaning in tennis again. Whatever that meant. Patrick, who you had been avoiding thinking about, once again inserted himself into a conversation, pointing out how young he and Art were when they first started playing tennis. According to him, it was never too early to learn how to properly hit a ball with a racket.

ᯓ

The thought of Art spending time with Kaleb through tennis is an endearing one if you’re being honest with yourself. But you know you would have an intense fight on your hands should Chris find out.

Ever since Art had stepped in with your ex at the fall festival, he’d harbored an attitude toward him. He’d gone as far as complaining about all the time Kaleb spent at his house, accusing you of trying to turn your son against him. If it weren’t for the court mandated visits, you’d have simply told Chris to go to hell. But in an attempt to maintain peace for your son’s sake, you reassured him that Kaleb only spent so much time around Art because Lily was his best friend.

You asked him if it was worth destroying his son’s friendship. He conceded for the time being, but you’re sure if he found out about any extra tennis lessons, he’d blow a gasket.

Ironically, you had never been offered the freedom to express such possessiveness. You had to be content each and every time your son stayed at his father’s new house with his new fiancée that you barely knew anything about. You handle some occasions better than others.

This time, though, when you watch Kaleb go through the front door of their luxurious home, Spider-Man backpack affixed on his back, your stomach churns. Chris’ fiancée smiles and waves to you with her left hand. Bitterly, you think it’s a miracle she can even lift it with the large diamond wrapped around her finger. She places her hand on your son’s shoulder, pulling him into their home, as if she wasn’t the one that helped wreck yours.

Maybe it’s the fact that this past week would’ve been your anniversary, but your shoulders shake with sobs throughout the entire drive home. You sniffle as you think about Kaleb building a life with his soon to be step-mom. You hope she treats him right, but, ultimately, you wish he didn’t have to know her at all.

It doesn’t help that you aren’t able to bury your sorrows in Art’s chest or on his dick. He’d already told you about the gala he’d be attending that weekend for the Donaldson Foundation. You haven’t seen him since last weekend, and you ache to call him, but the thought makes you feel nauseous when you think about the wretched irony of seeking comfort in a married man. In a decision that’s almost homogeneously pathetic, you sit in your lonely driveway and send a “hey” to ‘for a rainy day.’

ᯓ

It doesn’t take long for Patrick to offer to come over. You send him your location as you pop open a bottle of wine.

You reach for a glass, your eagerness causing you to apply too much force as you slam the glass down. It breaks under the pressure of your haste, immediately cracking at the stem. The inconvenience is too much for you. You curse before bringing the entire bottle up to your mouth. You take a swig, red liquid spilling out of the corner of your mouth. With a gasp, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. Pitifully, your vision starts to blur again as your eyes swell up with hot tears. You resort to sitting on the kitchen floor, taking the occasional drink, and wallowing in your despair.

You’re propped against the cabinet, knees to your chest as you cradle the green tinted bottle of red wine like a toddler holding a stuffed animal, when you hear your doorbell ring. You stumble to your feet, dragging them as you move toward the door. When you swing the door open, Patrick is standing there with his hands in his pockets. He looks you over once, mumbling that you “look like shit” before stepping into your home as if he’d been there a thousand times.

He lifts his eyebrows when he sees the neglected pieces of glass on your counter. He looks back at the bottle in your fist before groaning. “Please don’t tell me you’re an alcoholic.”

You roll your eyes. “No, I’m just having a pretty shitty day.”

“No shit,” he snorts.

You send him a glare. “I don’t even know why I called you,” you say and rub your temples.

“Because I’m obviously easy and you know it.” He smirks.

It makes you laugh, your red, puffy eyes squinting back at him.

Patrick eventually convinces you to smoke the joint he’d brought with him. You haven’t gotten high in years, and you find yourself mindlessly rambling about your life as you pass the joint back and forth to him. You’d stopped crying a while ago, your eyes now red because of the weed.

You and Patrick are lounging on the floor of your living room. You’re dragging your fingers through the shag rug underneath you and leaning your head back on the sofa when you hear him laugh. He sounds like he’s far away, down through a tunnel, but when you turn your head, his face is right beside you.

“What’s funny?” You grunt.

He shakes his head. “S’nothing.”

You frown and shove his bicep. “Tell me,” you say, scooting closer to him. “I hate feeling left out.”

His smile falters for a second like he’s remembering something, but when you blink he’s sporting a melancholic grin. “It’s just—you kind of remind me a lot of Art.” His head falls to the side to really look at you. “I mean not like completely, and not really how he is now, but when you’re upset—it reminds me of when we were teenagers.”

“I can’t tell if that’s a good thing or not,” you say. It comes out as a whisper. Your faces are so close that you don’t want to startle him.

“Hm.” His eyes flicker to your lips. “Not a good or bad thing. Just a thing.”

“That’s why you like me?” You mumble teasingly. “Because I remind you of your boyfriend?”

He smirks, lips so close to yours you feel his breath fan them. “Who said I liked you?”

“You don’t have to.” You’re just the slightest movement away from kissing him. If you tilt your head just the tiniest bit—

He lets out an almost imperceptible moan when he finally presses his lips to yours. It’s so quiet, you think you might’ve imagined it. It all happens incredibly fast, but feels like slow motion. Your head is fuzzy and your body is tingling as Patrick grabs your waist, hoisting you onto his lap. It takes you a moment to build momentum, your sensory overload working against you.

When you’re finally able to match his energy, the kiss is searing. He’s sucking your lip into his mouth like you’re already his, hands roaming everywhere he can get them. When he bites your bottom lip, you suck in a breath, giving him room to thrust his tongue into your mouth. You mewl at the way your mouths seem to fit together like velcro. Your toes curl and you tighten your fists into his dark locks when you feel his hot tongue traveling down your throat, leaving white hot bites that feel like being branded. His teeth sting and your cunt throbs as you impulsively rut against his length.

Patrick rubs his large palm over your ass before abruptly smacking it, making you release an embarrassingly airy moan. His teeth tug on your earlobe. “You like that?”

You only nod, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“Hmm?” He mumbles, continuing to lave over the skin behind your ear. His hand comes down on your ass again, harder this time.

You let out a pathetic squeal and slam your hips down against him in search of some kind of friction to relieve the ache between your legs. “Oh god—please fuck me—“

His mouth meets yours again. You can barely kiss him properly, panting about needing him to fuck you right now.

He really is easy, you think, but it’s not like you have room to talk.

ᯓ

The first time Patrick Zweig sinks his cock into you, you’re on your knees, face pressed against your rug. The slam of his hips threaten to take your breath away as tears cling to your eyelashes. He’s rough, possessively grabbing your flesh with no regard for potential damage. When he experimentally grips your hair in his hand, tugging your head back gently, you see stars behind your clamped eyelids.

Patrick nearly whimpers at the way it makes you arch your back into his thrusts with increasing intensity. He groans something about you being a slut and fists your hair with less restraint. Your walls clench around him when he wraps his hand around your throat, pulling you to his chest.

He grunts into your ear. “I knew you liked it rough, could tell from the first time I saw you.”

The tears have started to spill now. Whether it’s from the humiliation or the utter ecstasy, you aren’t sure. All you know is that you almost sob when Patrick drags his tongue alongside your face, collecting the salty tears.

ᯓ

He buries himself inside you for a second time no more than twenty minutes after you’ve both cum. You gasp and claw at his back as his body presses you into your couch cushions.

You have to admit that Patrick knows how to fuck. Knows how to read your body, tapping into just the right frequency to get you off.

It’s obvious that you’ve been craving this type of treatment from the way you’re responding to him. But you’re sure that he must have a sexual sixth sense because in the midst of fucking you wildly, he grabs your ankle that’s dangling by his ear, turns his head, and plants a sweet kiss to the bone. It makes you melt into the sofa.

He leans down to shove his tongue into your open mouth. Softly pats your cheek, relishing in your cock drunk state.

“Does he fuck you like this?” He murmurs into your neck.

You don’t have to ask who he’s talking about.

“Huh?” He prods.

You choke down a moan. “Better. He—“ You cry out when you feel him start rubbing harsh circles into your clit. “He fucks me better.”

He huffs out a laugh through his smile, but his hips slam down harder as if he’s determined to change your answer. In less than a minute, you’re biting down on his shoulder when you feel another orgasm rack through your body.

ᯓ

You take a longer break this time. Stopping to pour yourself a real glass of wine. One with its stem intact. Patrick lazily inhales from a cigarette as he watches you, with hooded eyes, attempt to hold a throw blanket over your bare torso. In contrast, he nonchalantly spreads his thighs over your couch, body on full display.

His eyes leisurely meet yours. They shine prettily in the dim lighting of your home. His dark lashes flutter on each drag of his cig and it makes the corner of your mouth curve up when you take a sip. The lamps have cast a cozy shade of amber over the room. It blankets Patrick’s skin in a golden aura reminiscent of something being baked in an oven.

Patrick reminds you of the gingerbread man, you think. It makes you press the tips of your fingers to your lips to stifle a giggle.

He tilts his head at your odd behavior, but he assumes the weed must still be affecting you.

Once you’ve placed your glass on the coffee table, and he’s put out his cigarette, Patrick is pulling you by the ankle, tossing your blanket to the side and kissing his way down your abdomen.

You yelp when he captures one of your hard nipples in his mouth but let him press his hot kisses into your skin nonetheless.

You end up cumming for the third time that night with his head buried between your legs.

ᯓ

Patrick leaves while you’re asleep.

When you wake up around 3am to an empty house, you think it’s for the best. You check your phone. You have a missed call from “a.d.” and a text from Patrick that says “had fun” with a winking emoji. You don’t respond to either, instead, opting to pad your bare feet to the bathroom. You desperately need a shower.

In the morning, you tidy up your home from the events of the night before, cringing at what took place on the terracotta colored sofa.

When the buzzing in your head doesn’t stop after cleaning your entire living room from top to bottom, you find yourself in the kitchen, pulling out ingredients to make chocolate chip cookies.

You’re frantically kneading dough when the doorbell rings. You frown, not expecting company, but clean your hands as best you can as you make your way to open the door. Sometimes, your talkative neighbor, Mrs. Taylor, likes to come knocking on your door early in the mornings.

You’re surprised to find that Art is standing on the other side with a latte and a bag containing a chocolate croissant. You assume it’s for you. He places his things down on the table by the door, the one that holds your catch all tray, and scoops you up into a hug.

He groans into it, making you smile. “Hi,” you mumble into his chest.

“Hi, pretty girl,” his voice comes out equally mumbled. “Missed you.” You can hear the grin in his tone. It makes your heart clench.

You allow yourself to hold onto him, despite the ever present worry that you should be reining yourself in when it comes to him. He moves to let you go, grabbing your face in his palm and kissing the side of your head. You whine and lock your arms around his waist in protest. You inhale his scent, all warm and familiar. You’ve missed him.

“Baby,” he laughs into your hair. You grunt, squeezing him tighter. “Okay, c’mere.” He pulls you into him, securely engulfing you in his arms. “I got you, I got you.”

You eventually release him long enough to walk into your home.

You’re relieved that you’d been overtaken by a cleaning spell this morning because you fear that Art might take one glance at your couch and figure out who had been here. That he’d smell him in the air.

You’re afraid he might’ve detected it anyway when he freezes in the walkway separating your kitchen from the living room. You nibble on your lip as you try to search his body for any signs that he’s onto you.

To your relief, Art is actually focused on the copious amounts of cookie dough you have on the counter of your kitchen island. He turns to you with the all knowing look of a father, his eyes creased with concern. “Oh no, what happened?”

ᯓ

After a therapy session in which you decide to stop letting your ex influence your decisions from afar, you finally relent, allowing Art to begin practicing with Kaleb on their private tennis court. It seems like since you got involved with their family, that’s all you ever do, give in to everyone’s requests. In any other context, it would be disturbing, but the sight of Kaleb racing to the court with an oversized tennis bag fills you with joy. The bag threatens to pull him down, but his excitement keeps him upright as he makes a beeline for Art.

You don’t know who’s more excited to see Art between the two of you. Your son’s tennis instructor waves at you from across the court. And you have to fight the rush that flows through you, threatening to cut off your oxygen, and give a simple wave in return. It makes you feel like a kid with a fervent crush. You could gag.

You remind yourself that you’re here for Kaleb. Not you.

You think that as long as you get to see him happy like that, you’d agree to anything. It’s a scary notion, but becoming a mom has made you aware of a lot of terrifying realities.

ᯓ

It’s this maternal need to preserve your son’s happiness that leads you to another prolonged encounter with Tashi Duncan. She’d caught you when you were dropping him off for tennis lessons one day. Apparently, she had a free day. Lily was spending the day with her grandparents, and Patrick is, thankfully, nowhere to be found. You try to hide your relief when she tells you that. You don’t think you can face him right now.

She insists you join her in their sunroom while the boys practice. You try to think of an excuse to turn her down, but you decide your karma from sleeping with her husband has built up too much to take the chance of tacking on more. So, when she offers to make you a cup of tea, you oblige and sink down into the fabric of a warm sofa.

When Tashi reappears, she sits down with a cup of steaming hot tea for the both of you. You thank her with a smile, letting your eyes trail over her figure. She looks ethereal. The sunlight pouring through the glass forms a halo of light around her, illuminating her like a Madonna painting. She has her hair pulled back into a low ponytail that causes her to have to tuck the loose strands behind her ear every now and then. The motion makes you take notice of her slim neck and the way her collarbones dip into her loose-fitted button down. Even dressed casually, she looks like a goddess.

You feel your heart start to beat a little faster and reach to take a sip of your tea. You wonder how she knew that lavender chamomile was one of your favorites.

It’s only awkward for a moment because the two of you quickly fall into a conversation about what she’s missed now that Art has taken over attending the PTA meetings. That’s how you’d initially met her. She had actually been the one who you exchanged communication with about carpool and play dates. Art’s retirement allowed her to focus on tennis and other aspects of raising Lily that she preferred. You giggle when she admits that she never really liked those meetings anyway. You don’t tell her that you always had that inkling.

When you mention that Cynthia is still advertising her knitting business at every single meeting, she sucks in a laugh before leaning toward you. She presses her lips together, holding in her giggle. “Guess what?”

You squint at her, your expression already anticipating a joke. “What?” You all but sputter out.

“I’m probably responsible for like half the sales on her Etsy shop.” She says like she’s admitting to something top secret. It’s a lot like the expression Lily takes on when her and Kaleb are playing “secret agent.”

“Girl, what?” You didn’t think she’d be a fan of crocheted animal figures.

“I ordered one for my mom for Mother’s Day,” she explains. “She fell in love with the thing I swear, thought it looked just like her little Yorkie, next thing you know she’s asking for the link to share with all her friends.”

You’re snickering into your mug imagining Tashi unintentionally being Cynthia’s best saleswoman.

She smiles at you. “I’m serious. Apparently, amigurumi is the new thing. It’s gonna be flying off the shelves. That’s why I had to go ahead and put in my order.”

“Of course you know the official term.” You toss your head back. “What’s yours look like?”

“It’s a little tabby cat,” she smiles wistfully. “Like the one I had growing up. Her name was Aphrodite.”

It’s a fitting name.

You’re biting back a grin as you take a sip from your tea. You sigh at the taste. “How’d you know what type of tea I liked?” You ask absentmindedly.

“Art mentioned it to me.”

You freeze. “Art?”

“Yeah he says you like to make it before bed. Now, he’s hooked on it.”

All the blood in your body rushes to your head. You feel that unwelcome yet proverbial sinking in your gut. You think you might start projectile vomiting.

“Are you okay?”

You don’t respond. It’s hard to speak when you feel like you’re dangling upside down on a roller coaster.

“Wait… you didn’t think I knew did you?”

For some unintelligent reason, you decide to play stupid. Usually, in times of danger, humans resort to fight, flight, or freeze. You choose fucking idiot. “Knew what?”

“That you’re fucking my husband.” Tashi says quite unceremoniously.

“What—what do you mean?” You squeak out.

“Don’t.” She laughs. “I’ve known the whole time.”

“How?” Your voice is shrinking smaller and smaller to your ears. The sound of Tashi’s voice, her pert laughter, drowning it out.

“Art tells me everything.”

“And you’re okay with it?” You attempt to ask though you can barely hear it.

You know your question reaches her ears because she shakes her head and tells you, “I suggested it.”

Your eyes go wide. Her divulgence seems to propel you forward on your metaphorical roller coaster. In a snap, it brings you out of your stupor.

“I told Art that he should fuck you.” She says it like it’s nothing. Like it’s as simple as telling him to pick up some carry out on the way home.

You’re confused, and your head is starting to hurt from the whiplash, and you wish this ride would end already. “I’m—I’m not sure I understand what’s going on here.”

“Okay, well, Art’s been attracted to you since the day he met you,” she says plainly. “But he’d never actually do anything about it because that’s just who he is. He needed that push—“

“That push?”

She nods. “He needed to know he could do it and everything would be fine. He’s still figuring out how to be open to stuff like this.” She explains, gestures vaguely in the air. “He’d never break up what seemed like a happy marriage, but when it was clear that your marriage was far from happy…well he started to warm up to the idea.”

“What do you mean far from happy?” The shock has you feeling unreasonably defensive.

“Clearly something was off. You never seemed happy with him. You’ve said it yourself that he was a dick.”

“Um—okay, well, I’d say something has to be off if you’re coaching your husband into sleeping with unsuspecting women.” You shoot back. Your gaze is sharp and accusatory.

She lets her eyes fall down to her lap, picking at little buds of lint being exposed by the sun’s glow. “You’re right, something was off between us,” she says like it’s something in the past. Like maybe they’re good now, but at one time they weren’t. “But Art knows how I feel about him.” Then, her gaze returns to you. “Something tells me your husband either didn’t know or didn’t care.”

Her comment strikes a nerve. Chris did know something was off, and she was right, he didn’t care. He made you feel like needing more from him made you selfish. As if the reminder of the vows he made to you was an affront to him. He knew you were unhappy. That you felt ignored. But he didn’t care. When you’d served him the divorce papers, you naively thought that he’d realize what he might lose, that he might beg for your forgiveness, promise to be better. Instead, you watched him sign the document in the same way he’d signed receipts for dinner before closing the tab and tucking the pen inside.

You think you envy her. Because she has a husband that actually doesn’t want to leave her.

“Hey.” She grabs your attention. Her voice softens when she sees your glassy eyes peering back at her. “I’m not judging you. I’m just trying to offer an explanation.”

You work to swallow down the onslaught of emotions threatening to rise up like bile. You release a fractured noise from your throat, letting the revelation fully soak in. “So you really knew this whole time then? Or rather you orchestrated it?”

“Okay, that’s a little extreme,” she says. “When we found out you were getting divorced, I mentioned to Art that he should pursue you. That’s all.” She shrugs. “I never knew if he’d actually do it or when he’d do it. All I know is that the first night he came home smelling like you, he fucked me like he did when I first agreed to be his tennis coach.”

“Then, he was constantly meeting up with you or staying to talk after PTA meetings,” her fingers curl to form quotations around the word, talk. “But I knew what was up.” She bites her lip. “It was honestly kind of hot.”

You frown. The thought of him sleeping with her immediately after being with you has your stomach in knots. The worst part is that you can’t stop wondering if he’d showered first. If he’d cleaned himself up or if he’d went straight to her, buried himself inside her, cock still sticky with your fluids. In a way, it’s like you had also been inside her. If you think about it long enough, you can imagine what it must feel like. So, you don’t think about it. Instead, you fix your gaze on the golden pothos plant sitting on top a table to your right. The tapping of your nail against the ceramic mug fills the silence.

She gives you a questioning look.

Ignoring the implications of what she just told you, you settle for the anger you’re feeling instead of dwelling on any confusing arousal. “Do you not realize how fucked up this is, Tashi?”

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah! It’s fucked!” You throw your hands up. “I mean I’ve been running around feeling guilty, thinking I was a fucking homewrecker while the two of you get off on a cheating kink!”

She can tell you have more to say, so she leans back and lets you go on.

“I mean how could you do that? I was fucking depressed.”

She snorts. “Not so depressed that it ruined your libido. You two have been going at it like rabbits.” Her smirk makes your cheeks burn.

You place your mug down onto the table. “Wow. You know what?” You’re on the edge of the couch now, body rigid. “You and Art can go fuck yourselves! This is seriously messed up.”

She raises her eyebrows. “As messed up as you fucking another woman’s husband?”

Her words drip with mirth, and it pisses you off that the fiery look in her eyes is poking at a budding desire in your belly. “This is ridiculous,” you mumble to yourself. You’d rather focus all your energy on being outraged than interrogate why this is kind of turning you on. You’re about to stand up to leave when she places a hand on your arm.

“Are you seriously mad right now?” She asks you.

An incredulous look takes over your face. “What do you think?” You spit out.

“Well, would you have preferred I not know?” She asks as if you’re the crazy one here.

“I—“ you squeeze your eyes shut, and try to gather your thoughts. “Obviously not, Tashi.” You glance up to the glass paned ceiling. “I just—it would’ve been nice to know what was really going on. I mean he never even told me that you knew.”

“Well, did you ask?” She asks simply.

Did you? You think back to the past couple of months. The more you and Art hooked up, the more you avoided directly mentioning Tashi. He didn’t bring her up more than what was necessary, so you suspected he was actively trying to keep it from her.

To be fair, he did mention a couple of times that he’d told Tashi you two were going to meet up for lunch, but you thought he must’ve been leaving out the activities that followed. And if she happened to call him while the two of you were together, he would casually tell her he was with you. You obviously assumed he was downplaying your friendship because there was no way Art would be so nonchalant about a mistress. But, apparently, the word mistress didn’t even apply to you.

“I mean, I guess I didn’t.” You stammer. “But I feel like that was on him to bring it up to me.”

“Well that’s where you went wrong. Art can get in his own way sometimes.” A pensive expression works it’s way onto her face. “Or maybe part of him did kind of get off on feeling like he was sneaking around.” The thought seems to bring a small smile to her face.

It still doesn’t make sense to you. You try to tamper down the sinking feeling that you’ve been nothing more than a pawn. “I just don’t understand why you two couldn’t proposition me like a normal couple looking for a third,” you say.

“Who said you were our third?”

“Oh, so there’s other women you’ve sent Art to fuck?”

“No. I—I don’t just pimp out my husband, okay?”

You back down.

“We already have a…third I guess.”

You look at her with furrowed brows.

“Patrick.” She answers.

“Patrick? Like Patrick Patrick?”

She nods.

You laugh cynically. You didn’t think this situation could get any worse.

“I know.” She sighs. “I know how it seems—”

“Was that part of the plan too?” You’re out of breath, chest heaving.

She looks genuinely confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Me and Patrick,” you blurt.

“Wait a minute, you’re sleeping with Patrick?” She’s scooting closer to you.

You shake your head. “It just happened once.” You think of how he’d shoved your face into the rug, fucking into you as he grunted out various obscenities. “I was high. I haven’t spoken to him since.”

She looks away for a moment, brows drawn together tightly. She’s piecing together what you’ve told her.

“I—I didn’t know he was with you guys,” you try.

She waves you off. “No, it’s not that.” She sits back. “I’m just not surprised that he wormed his way into your pants. He just couldn’t take that Art had something to himself.” She’s speaking to you, but her eyes are trained ahead.

“So, you really didn’t set that up too?” You ask meekly.

“God, no!” She says. “I had no idea.”

You believe her.

“Look I don’t care what type of weird shit you tennis players are into, if you guys have wild orgies or whatever. I just would’ve liked to have known that I wasn’t a hypocrite.”

“A hypocrite?”

You nod. “I mean I sit here and give my ex shit for cheating on me with that skinny ass whore from Modesto. Hell! That’s why I got so much fucking alimony.” You’re rambling now. “And, then, I go and let Art fucking Donaldson screw me and then send him back home to play loving father and husband like it’s nothing. God! And on top of it all, I also sleep with his best friend! I became the whore from Modesto.”

Tashi’s watching you like you’re a kid experiencing big feelings.

“I felt like a home wrecker.” You sniff. “But apparently I’m actually not…because it was your idea, well only Art, not Patrick, and I—it’s all just fucking with my head.”

Tashi swallows. “I honestly thought you’d be relieved to find out.”

She looks at the frown on your face, takes in the way your plump bottom lip is jutting out. She reaches for your hand. “We’ve never really been the best at communicating. Me and Art. For the past year or so, we’ve gotten better at talking to each other, being honest about what we want, but we’re still working on doing that with other people I guess.” You let her thumb rub the back of your hand before you gently pull away.

You grab your mug again. The handle is cold to the touch.

“I promise we didn’t mean to fuck with you. Honestly, I think Art really likes you.” She offers you a small smile.

You look into your mug trying to still your reaction. You don’t care.

Tashi’s gaze feels heavy on the side of your face as you feel her watching your expression. You start to fiddle with your watch. Checking for the time. Except your watch is too busy displaying your increased heart rate to offer the time.

You sigh.

She reaches out to you again, but this time she brings her hand up to your face, moving the curls falling down over your eyes. You let her nimble fingers caress your cheekbone before trailing down to your chin, guiding you to look at her.

She gives you a steady, knowing smile. “You fell for him didn’t you?”

Your cheeks go ablaze, and you try to look away from her.

“Hey.” She grasps your chin in a firm, but gentle hold. “It’s okay.” She nods as if it’ll telepathically make you agree.

You clear your throat. “I know you say that, but this is all new to me.” Your voice is slightly wobbly and you think you might cry. “I—I didn’t think it’d happen but it did. I thought I could get him out of my system but now,” you inhale and press two fingers against your neck, subconsciously trying to self-soothe. “Now, it’s like—it’s like I can’t stop.” Your voice comes out almost like a whisper. Like you’re afraid to admit the truth.

And, really, you are afraid. You’re fucking terrified.

You’re scared to fall in love with a man who already has one—two people in his life that he’s in love with. The last time you entrusted a man with your love, he was only meant to love you, and he couldn’t even give you that.

What if you realize you’re absolutely enamored by Art Donaldson and he realizes the same thing Chris did? That there’s something about you that makes you unworthy of love. That the depth of you is as deep as your cunt goes and that’s it.

What if he realizes that he already has what he needs in Tashi, even Patrick? What if they realize they actually aren’t willing to share?

You apparently voice the last bit aloud.

Tashi tilts her head, some of her strands have fallen loose again and she wears the prettiest pout on her lips. “Do you want me to prove it to you?”

You gulp when her hand presses into your thigh, and she brings her face impossibly close to yours, forcing you to hold her gaze. “You want me to prove that I’m okay with it?” Her eyes flit between each one of yours with a level of seriousness you’d expect from someone like her.

Her expression demands an answer, and so, you give a faint nod, transfixed on the woman in front of you.

You gasp when you feel her mouth on yours.

You learn that Tashi tastes sweet when she has her tongue in your mouth. You think you can taste the tartness of the lemon she’d sucked on earlier. It’s good, and you realize you’re fucked because you really like kissing her.

Her tongue twirling around yours has you panting quietly, and you keen when you feel her manicured nails press into the nape of your neck. You haven’t kissed a woman since your last girlfriend in college, and you find you miss it. Something about it feels like drinking sweet tea on a hot summer day. Climbing into cool sheets at night when you’re bone tired. Or the feeling you get when you discover the song that you’re going to replay for the next week.

It also makes you feel absurdly wet.

The two of you work up a rhythm of pulling away for a breath before coming back together like magnets, letting your foreheads gently press together as you breathe deeply, thumbs caressing skin, eyelids fluttering.

Your tongue is sweeping across Tashi’s lip, on a path to enter her mouth again, when you hear someone clear their throat.

There’s an audible smack as you yank yourself from Tashi, eyes flying to the doorway of their sunroom.

Art is standing there staring at you, gaze shifting from your face to the hand you still have placed on his wife’s neck. His jaw is clenched, and his bulge is painfully evident in his pants.

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

a/n: I've been waiting for this since the first post. Let me know how you feel about the reveal <3 as always, my asks are open!

#art donaldson x reader #art donaldson #pta!Art x reader #art donaldson smut #tashi duncan #challengers 2024 #challengers fic #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig smut #tashi duncan x reader #hint at #artashi x reader

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sttm99 · 7 months ago

Text

TW..? Mentions of oral

Part 1

In as much as you loved summer for the long school break, beach days, and the opportunity to wear little clothes and even littler bikinis, you absolutely abhored the heat.

It was horrid.

And the store's air conditioning broke down the night before, so you had been stuck in the melting pot for at least three hours after you began your morning shift, three hours until the repair man came over to work on it.

And judging by the grunts he'd been making back there, you were certain you'd spend the next hour exactly how you were, sitting back in your chair behind the counter, one of the store's only three standing fans propped right infront of you and your magazine another makeshift fan.

"The fuck- I'm boiling already!"

You perked up just slightly at the groan, already recognising the voice. You turned around to face the door, a smile lighting your face as you caught sight of those four boys again.

"Yo! What brings you guys to the best sauna in Musutafu!" You sang out, still aggressively fanning yourself with the magazine.

"Sauna's definitely right." Bakugo grumbled out, slowly pulling at the collar of his shirt as he approached the counter, "Gimme some of that fan, will ya?"

"No, me!" Kaminari yelled and practically rushed forward.

"I've got high metabolism, I sweat quicker." Sero chimed in.

But you just scoffed at them, "Hello? I'm the one in here for a five hour shift. Get your own shit!" You scooted closer to the fan, soaking in all the air.

They all groaned, Bakugo louder than others, muttering something you didn't catch under his breath.

"What are you guys here for again, anyways? More drinks?" You raised a brow.

"Yep!" Sero said.

"And we wanted to invite you for a beach day." Kaminari grinned, hands on the counter as he leaned forward.

Kirishima stepped forward. "It's just us and like four other people - girls, so you shouldn't feel too overwhelmed."

You thought about it for a while. It's not like you really had any plans after your shift. So you just shrugged and nodded.

"Sure, I get off in like thirty minutes. What time?"

Which was how you found yourself near the back of the group next to Bakugo as you all made your way closer to the water.

Not only had they stayed until the end of your shift, when one of your coworkers came over to start their time, but then they'd followed you home and waited for you to take a shower and get changed.

Your mother was a bit apprehensive about having her daughter going to the beach with four guys she didn't know, but Kirishima was freakishly good with adults, reassuring her that she was in good hands.

That and they'd all pulled out their provisional hero licenses.

"Guys!" A pink skinned girl burst into your line of sight, hurling right into Kirishima. A group of three others - not pink skinned - joined in - not bulldozing the boys.

It was easy to recognise the other students of UA; their faces had become regulars on the news channel by now.

You didn't even have the chance to be awkward when Kaminari started aggressively showing you off to the girls like some action figure.

"This is YN!

She works at that convenience store we got those drinks at!

She's so cool!

Look at her!"

It had the girls laughing and greeting you, and had Bakugo scoffing, rolling his eyes as he marched away to lay down his bag on the sand.

"Hi, I'm Mina." She greeted, her hand around your wrist as she spoke. "This is Tsuyu, Jiro, and Ochako."

"YN," you responded. "I know you guys, by the way. 'Seen you on the news a few times."

"Seriously?" Jiro asked softly as she leaned into you.

"OMG- I'm literally famous now!" Mina squealed, wrapping her arms around you tightly and jumping a bit. "Did I look cute?"

You laughed, jumping with her. "Really cute. Badass, too."

"You guys! There's snacks!"

Most of you were seated now on Mina's very large blanket, the bag of snacks and drinks in the middle as you watched Mina and Kirishima have a chicken fight battle with Ochako and Sero.

"So...?" you whispered to Bakugo beside you, taking the bag of gummy bears he was currently fighting with. "How did it go?" You asked as you calmly tore the top of the bag and handed it over to him.

He glared at it for a moment, then at you, then the bag again, before snatching it and dipping his hand in.

It took him a while to answer you. "It was fine." He mumbled, willing the tips of his ears not to turn pink.

You hummed as you put your hand out to him for the gummy bears. He tilted the bag, pouring a couple into your palm. "You guys together now, or...?"

He shook his head. "Nah... just friends."

"Do you want to be together?"

Normally, Bakugo wouldn't even dream of engaging in such a conversation with someone who was practically a stranger. It was too private and too embarrassing for him to talk about. But for some reason, he couldn't help it. Your presence was too calming, too inviting even. You seemed so void of judgement.

It was what made him ask for your advice that first time, what made him ask for your number, too. And yet there was something about you that had him sweating and unable to text, had him deleting his words every time he typed them down in your chat.

"I don't know." He mumbled, eyeing how Kaminari pulled Jiro away somewhere, and how Tsuyu went over to stare at, or talk to, some of the fish, leaving only you two on the blanket.

"You don't know?" You raised a brow at him.

He huffed, keeping his eyes on the gummy bears, knowing that if he turned his head again, he probably wouldn't able to stop himself from glancing at your scantily covered skin.

"I just- out of everyone, she's the one I'd want be with. But... I don't know if I actually do." He frowned, trying to find better words to use.

But you seemed to understand just fine, reaching out your palm for another round of gummy bears. "Sounds like you like her cause she's the best option. Not that you really like her."

He was silent as he took in what you said.

"Yeah." He mumbled.

"Oi, you guys!" Sero called out to the two of you from where he was, running around in the water with Uraraka, Mina, and Kirishima. "Come on! Don't be boring!"

You chuckled at that, leaning forward to push yourself to stand.

"Hey," Bakugo quickly whispered to you, his hand reaching out to hold your wrist, stopping you just before you could get up. "Don't go yet."

And there was something in the way he said it, the intensity of his eyes, that had you stopping, relaxing back into your position before he pulled his hand away.

He looked back at Kirishima, "I'm not playing with you idiots!" He yelled in true Bakugo fashion.

"YN?" Kirishima called out to you.

You just offered him a wave and a smile. "Later."

He shrugged, going back to running from Kiri and Uraraka.

You turned back to Bakugo. "You don't want to join them?" You asked, collecting another round of gummies.

He shook his head, eyes on your hand as they dipped into the plastic bag. "They're idiots."

You hummed, laughing softly as you popped some gummies into your mouth. "And I'm not?"

He looked up at you, brows set low, and lips curled downwards. "You're not."

Maybe it was how he said it, or how he looked at you as he said it, but your stomach tightened a bit, and suddenly, Bakugo was attractive.

You looked at him as he pressed forward to grab another pack of gummies from the bag, watching the way the muscles of his back stretched and contracted, the flow of his hair, his jaw, his neck, his biceps and forearms.

He tossed you the bag instantly as he sat back down, and you smirked at him cheekily as you tore it open.

"Can't open a bag, Bakugo?" You teased.

He turned to glare at you, snatching the bag. "My quirk makes my hands sweaty." He scoffed, picking up some gummy bears.

Then he looked at you for a long moment before speaking up again. "I'm gonna go wash them. Come."

He stood up, and you followed suit, walking after him as he led the way to the washroom, both of you ignoring the looks you knew you were getting from the others.

You stood next to the sink as Bakugo washed his hands, eyeing the pale tiled walls and floors. "So... you sweat a lot?" You raised a brow.

He turned to glare at you as he dried his hands under the blower. "That's what you got from the explanation?" He'd just explained the entire mechanism of his quirk, and all you could say was that he sweats a lot?

You shrugged, an amused look on your face. "That's the backbone to it, honestly. Bakugo's a sweaty-palmed mess." You chuckled.

He shook his head in mock disappointment, sighing. "What am I going to do with you?"

You grinned. "Get me more gummies...?" You laughed.

He scoffs before looking down at his hands in distaste, thumbing at his palms. "This shit always makes them so fucking dry."

You glanced down at his palms before reaching out to hold on, rubbing aggressively on it.

"The fuck are you doing?" He says, but doesn't bother to pull away, he steps closer, so now you feel surrounded by him.

"I don't know. But my friend likes doing this when her hands are dry. She says it helps." You shrug, your mouth going dry.

"It's not working." He says to you. And his voice is lower than usual, breathier.

You let out a soft hum, your lower lip caught between your lips as you slow your ministrations. And just as you're about to let go of his hands, he grips yours, keeping you close and leaning down to catch your lips with his.

Your surprise is short, and you're immediately wrapping your other hand around his neck and kissing him back. His lips are soft, softer than what you'd expected.

And he's gentler, too. His free hand comes to softly hold your waist as he kisses you, mouth moving against yours so softly, so sensually, you're almost squirming.

He licks into your mouth expertly, tongue relaxed as he explores, drawing more mewls from you.

You pull away for a moment. "There's no way you were a virgin a week ago." You furrow your brows at, breathing heavily, your faces still close to each other, and your hand still clasped around the back of his neck. The way this boy is staring at you and breathing into your lips has you dizzy.

"I hadn't fucked doesn't mean I can't kiss. I'm amazing at everything." He retorts before he presses into your lips again.

"You practice kissing in the mirror, right?" You pull away again with a shit eating grin.

He glares and leans back in.

"Oh, I am so right, aren't I?" You pull away again.

"No, you just talk too fucking much." He spits out in frustration as he lets go of your hand, both of his palms now tightly gripping your hips and pulling you flush against him.

He crashes his lips into yours, backing you into the door and pressing his bare chest against your bikini covered one. Bakugo groans into your mouth when he feels your breasts flat against him, his lips growing greedy.

One of your hands is tracing the muscles of his abdomen, gliding up and down the hard ridges of flesh contracting with each deep groan from his mouth, whilst the other is in his hair, pushing his face closer.

You spend what feels like an hour in there, Bakugo's mouth attacking every inch of free skin his lips could reach, groaning at the sounds you made when his fingers were gliding down your stomach, dipping into your bikini bottoms and into you.

When you finally get back to the beach, everyone is on the blanket, and even Jiro and Kaminari are back. You'd cum once on his tongue, though it'd taken a while with his inexperience and you having to keep giving pointers on how to touch you with his fingers and his tongue.

But he was willing to learn and even more willing to make you feel good. And you'd rewarded him by shoving his dick down your throat.

"You guys took a while," Mina commented with a sly look on her face when you and Bakugo sat back down.

The latter just grunted, grabbing the last bag of gummies as he sat down next to Kirishima, shifting slightly so you could sit next to him.

You gave her a look before mumbling a quick lie about a long line and poor plumbing. Not like anyone believed. That and the fact that Bakugo just casually gave you the pack of gummy bears to open for him.

"Sure." Mina murmured.

You couldn't be bothered, really. And neither could he.

Tags: @lovra974 @khadeejanaur

#bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou #bakugou katuski x reader #bnha x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo smut #bakugo fluff

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cottonlemonade · 20 days ago

Text

An Easy Job

word count: 1234 || avg. reading time: 5 mins.

pairing: university AU!Tendou x chubby!Reader

genre: steamed fluff 🥟

warnings: none really, but let’s be safe and say mdni

request: I'll get a 14 for breakfast and procrastinate with Tendou || fluffy-spicy, part time job with crush Tendou

Tendou yawned and rubbed the stiffness out of his neck before grabbing the next ramen packet to sort into the shelf. It was early morning on a Sunday, still dark outside, and with the hum of the fluorescent lights overhead and the emptied aisle of instant food, the small convenience store at the edge of town had all the charm of a post-apocalyptic gas station. He knew he could have gotten a job closer to his dorm, heck, even on campus but this neglected shop was the only place that had accepted a foreigner as a part-timer, and because Tendou was nothing if not hopelessly in love he easily shouldered the 45-minute commute without second thought to keep you company.

“Good morning.”, you said behind him, holding out a cup of steaming coffee from a cart down the street. He smiled and accepted it with both hands, squinting slightly against the blinding radiance of your beauty as well as the intensely bright ceiling lamp above you.

“I thought about what you said yesterday and I think my answer would have to be: No, a hot dog is not a sandwich.”

“Bold decision.” He grinned after you while you put your bag behind the counter by the cash register.

The store got so little foot traffic that on most days you were simply there to rotate the stock and make sure no stray cat wandered in to steal treats off the shelf - truly a growing issue that warranted two people keeping an eye out - which meant, you had plenty of time to just chat and goof around. Tendou couldn’t have dreamed of a better job. Being paid to hang out with his crush one-on-one and free (only slightly expired) snacks was all he could ever ask for.

The shift went on as it usually did. You diligently swept the still spotless floors, whilst playing “I spy”, next went through the rows of goods to check the best before dates, then eventually you both settled behind the counter. He shuffled the deck of cards you had brought and for the first few rounds, you’d talk about the latest episode of a show you were both addicted to and discuss at length which thus far undomesticated animal would be man’s new best friend. It was dreary gray outside, not much of an upgrade from the freezing dark morning, but the shop was warm at least.

“Hey, y/n-chan.”, he said as you picked up your cards for the next round, “I was wondering if you have some dating advice maybe?”

“Dating advice?”, you stopped short and looked at him with surprise at this sudden change in topic, “For you?”

“Yeah?”

“From me?”

“Yeah.”

“Uhm… I mean I’m flattered but”, you squinted down at yourself, at the pudgy ball of tummy that protruded quite prominently as you sat, “I don’t pull as much as you might think I do.”

He snickered.

“Hard to believe but okay.”

“What do you need help with?”

“I mean, I obviously know how to talk to girls in general.”

“Yes, obviously.”

“But I am, shall we say, a bit rusty… when it comes to the actual date part.”

“I see.”, you said and suppressed a smile as you discarded a card onto a pile, “Where are you taking her?”

Tendou kept a close eye on you, hoping your reaction might give him some sort of indication of how you felt about him. He was already a little disappointed that you didn’t start sobbing at the idea of him on a date with someone.

“This is all very hypothetical. There, uhm, is no date yet.”

“I see.”

A little flutter bubbled in his chest when he saw a small smirk on your lips.

“But maybe Paris? Although,”, he held his chin in thought, “that might be more a second date kinda thing, I dunno. Where would you wanna go?”

One snorting laugh later you said, “Maybe the arcade? There is this really cool one near uni that’s super old school. Yeah, I think that would be my ideal first date. It’s fun, it’s easy to talk there and you get to know the other person very well by seeing how they behave when they lose. And maybe he could win me a plushie at the claw machines, that would be so cute.”

Tendou nodded, not so subtly taking frantic notes on his phone as you went on, “We could get some taiyaki or these amazing bubble waffles to share. On the way home he might give me his jacket…”, you were rotating the seat of your stool dreamily from side to side at this point, looking at your cards without really seeing them. “And once he walked me home we’d kiss goodnight aaand that’s it.” You discarded an ace of clubs and looked at him expectantly. “Was that helpful?”

“Oh yeah. Thanks. I was just wondering. Of course, I’ve kissed a whole bunch of girls before.”

“Of course.”

“But is there maybe something I should know? Like … where to put my hands and … and how much pressure to use and … stuff like that?”

Tendou felt his heart thumping in his throat when you grabbed the edge of the counter and pulled yourself closer to him.

“We could start with the pressure. Let’s see what you got.”

“What?”

“Is that not what you wanted?”

He froze, worried if he would move all of this would turn out to be one of the many daydreams he’d had since working here.

Slowly your teasing smile started to fade and you began moving backwards again, “Sorry, Satori, I thought-“

His hand shot out to snatch the seat of your stool that was hidden underneath your plush thighs. He held you in place, nervous but ready. Your surprised expression turned to blush, full of anticipation.

By capturing your chair he had leaned forward and was only a breath’s width away from your face. His eyes darted down to your lips for a split second and back up to meet your eyes. Then, with another moment’s hesitation, he kissed you. It wasn’t like it seemed in the movies, he thought. This was so much better. He still tasted the strawberry flavor from the gummi bears you shared earlier. He wanted more. A tug of his arm made you gasp against him as he drew you so close that your chairs were touching now. Your knees between his, still sitting on your stools you deepened the kiss. He wanted to cry with joy at the feeling of your tongue dancing with his, his hands came up to cup your cheeks. More. Closer. His right hand wandered lower again, down to your waist. You were so impossibly soft, how was he ever supposed to stop touching you? He pulled a third time, now having you sit on his lap. He stupidly wondered if his thigh was comfortable enough for you before he trapped you with his arms on either side, your back gently pressed against the cash register. Your hands came up to hold his shoulders, his neck, his cheek, then your fingers were in his hair and if he wouldn’t have been so focused on your taste he would have moaned into your mouth at the feeling.

Neither of you noticed the gray tabby strolling through the door and purposefully striding towards the cat treats to help herself.

a/n: thank you anon for this request. I’m sorry it took so long, this was a tough one to figure out 🧐 I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless 🌟

Thank you @haikyu-mp4 for brainstorming!

#sunnys university #tendou x chubby reader #tendo x chubby reader #tendou satori #haikyuu x chubby reader #chubby reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #hq fluff #haikyuu x curvy reader #tendou fluff #tendo x reader #tendou x reader #hq tendo #haikyuu tendo #tendo satori #hq tendou #haikyuu tendou

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edenesth · 10 months ago

Text

[2:36 PM]

"Holy crap, I'm stuffed! I feel like I've eaten enough to last a week," you exclaimed, embracing your bloated belly in amazement as you glanced at Seonghwa, who was still happily devouring his meal. You'd been indulging at the all-you-can-eat buffet for hours, yet he showed no signs of slowing down. "Thank god one of us has a black hole for a stomach; I swear, Hwa, you make every buffet meal so worth it."

Your boyfriend chuckled, "You say that now, but I bet you'll be craving convenience store snacks by tonight like always," he teased, feeling a rush of affection for you as you stuck your tongue out playfully.

It was your fourth anniversary together, and he had let you choose the venue for your date. You opted for the Japanese buffet near your shared apartment, knowing it would make him happy. And it did; he was over the moon, utterly in love with you for your thoughtfulness. So much so that he could propose to you on the spot. In fact, he had a ring ready and was eagerly planning to seize this perfect moment to pop the question.

As he finished his bowl of ramen, his heart warmed at your immediate response—reaching over to delicately wipe the corner of his lips with your napkin. You smiled, asking, "Was it good?"

He nodded, holding your hand and planting a kiss on your wrist after you finished cleaning his mouth. "Everything tastes better with you around, my love. Now, be a good girl and wait here while I go get us some desserts."

You giggled before exclaiming, "Ooh yes, I want to come with you!" as you began to rise from your seat. But he panicked and stopped you, "N-no, please, let me take care of you today. I'll be back real quick, I promise," he said before darting out of the private room you had reserved. He had plans to hide the ring in one of the cakes for you to discover later, and if you were to go with him now, he wouldn't be able to execute his plan.

With a satisfied hum, he admired how perfectly he had hidden the ring in one of your favourite cakes. Oh, he couldn't wait to see the look on your face when you realised what was inside. Walking back to the room, his heart raced and his mind swirled with all the possible romantic outcomes of this surprise. If all went well, you'd be his fiancée by the end of this meal.

It's going to be perfect.

"Yay, you got all my favourites! Thank you, Hwa, you're the best," you cooed, pulling him down by the collar to give him a chaste kiss on the lips before allowing him to return to his seat across from you.

He grinned, biting his lip excitedly as he watched you begin to eat, "Anything for you," he murmured. His attention was momentarily diverted when his phone chimed with a few texts from his friends in their group chat. He clicked open to find a couple of silly memes, offering a quick 'Haha' reaction before returning his focus to you.

"Hwa, say ahhh," you said, holding out some cake to feed him. Absentmindedly, he looked up from his phone and accepted the bite. "Thanks, babe. You enjoy it, I'll get more later," he said, his words slightly muffled as he spoke with cake in his mouth.

Wait a minute, I—

His eyes widened in horror as he realised the ring was in his mouth. He was dangerously close to swallowing it when he attempted to push it back out, causing him to choke violently and startling you in the process.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" you rushed over to his side immediately, lightly slapping him on the back. Your concern intensified as his body shook. "Cough it out, Hwa!"

And he did, eventually spitting out remnants of the cake onto his trembling hand. In the midst of the mess lay a shiny object. You didn't know what it was, but one thing was certain: it clearly was not meant to be in a cake. "Wh-what's that? Why would they put something like that inside a cake? Are they trying to harm someone? This is unacceptable; I'm going to file a complaint."

"N-no, babe!" he called out, gently grasping your wrist and pulling you close before you could scold anyone for his own mistake.

"But Hwa, you could have died—"

He sighed, "It was me, I put it in there." He grabbed a few new napkins and cleaned up the mess in his hands, and your eyes rounded, your breath catching when you recognised what was in his hand. It was a ring you had once jokingly shown him, telling him how pretty it was and that you would love it if he could propose to you with it. You didn't think he would actually do it.

"God, this went way differently in my mind. You were supposed to discover it on your own; it was supposed to be so romantic, and I ruined it all because I'm an idiot—"

You silenced him with a kiss, pressing your lips to his and cradling his face while you caressed his cheeks, tears tracing down your own. Pulling back slowly, you rested your forehead against his with a soft chuckle.

"Well, I think it's rather romantic."

"I swear, I'll redo it properly—wait, really?"

"Mhm. Oh and, yes, I do."

ATEEZ Masterlist

Look what you made me do, @itstheghostofmypast😭 this was a little something my pookie and I came up with while we were talking hehe ilysm istg pls never stop feeding me these ideas.

Anyways, hope y'all enjoyed this random little timestamp and as always, let me know your thoughts! <3

General ATEEZ Tag list:

@aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina @huachengsbestie01 |

@evidive @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr @cheolliehugs @ho3-for-yunho |

@the-kpop-simp @itstheghostofmypast @vantediary @green-agent @skzline |

@sharksandminhos @writingwieny @heyitsmetonid @tinyteezer @hollxe1 |

@pandabur666 @vampzity @tournesol155 @lilactangerine @oddracha

#edenesth #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #ateez timestamps #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #ateez drabbles #seonghwa drabble #seonghwa fluff #ateez fic #ateez imagines

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putiflowy · 23 days ago

Text

Seong Gi-hun x fem! reader

Summary: On your way home you are being chased by a strange man in a suit. No place seems safe until you run into an old friend, Gi-hun.

Warnings: I'm a yapper (word count: 2.5k). Also, sexy time (masturbation, oral, teasing, praising, sex toys, unprotected sex, a lot of talking during sex, penetration, creampie, fluff).

Walking alone at night has always been a terrifying experience and even more when you were being followed by a mysterious dark figure. You held your purse strap tightly and played with it between your fingers to calm your nerves. In case the man showed up, you were prepared to hit him with it. In the best case scenario, he wouldn't follow you afterward. However, worse situations crossed your mind. Therefore, you decided that the best thing to do was to find a place to hide.

Not so far from you there was a bright neon light coming from a pink motel. Although you had lost sight of the creepy man, you decided it was best not to risk going home. As you approached the doors, you realized that everything was darker and less welcoming than you had expected. Still, you pressed the doorbell as many times as you could and waited for an answer. Your knocks had not gone unnoticed. What you didn't know was that a camera had been zooming in to get a closer picture of you.

"Fuck it." You sighed and decided to walk away, trying to find a safer place so the freak would get tired of following you. Near the motel, there was a convenience store that still had light. You greeted the tired cashier and she forced a smile in return. As you checked out the products through the various food sections, you kept an eye on the window, just in case the man appeared. Once in the drink section, you took your time inspecting all the products.

“Coffee with milk… no… aloe vera juice… no… boba tea… hmmm…”. Staying focused on the juices was also a way to release the pent-up stress. However, this new task had made you oblivious to your surroundings. Suddenly, a finger poked your shoulder. It was a polite touch, but still, it sent shivers down your spine. You had goosebumps everywhere. Was it him?

"You seem to be lost." A familiar voice spoke from behind you.

"Gi-hun?" As soon as you saw that lanky figure of your childhood friend, your fear was replaced by nostalgia and excitement. You couldn't contain your happiness and immediately jumped up to give him a bear hug.

"(Y/n)!" He exclaimed and quickly returned the embrace. From the tightness of his grip, you could tell he had missed you too. After breaking away from the hug, you put your free arm around his and he gently caressed the hand you had offered him. Despite the dark circles under his eyes, his face glowed with joy.

"Gi-hun, it's so great to see you again. It's been ages, where have you been hiding?" Curiosity took hold of you. A lot of questions needed to be made.

"I could say the same, (Y/n)! We have a lot to catch on." You walked the short aisles of the store as if you were a young couple strolling through the mall.

"Tell me, tell me! Are you living here in Seoul?" The latest update you had on his life was that his daughter was a very good student and that he was having frequent arguments with his wife.

"No, no, I moved recently... work related." He scratched the back of his head and broke eye contact with you for a moment.

"Oh! Are you living here with... Ga-yeong? How is she anyway? She must be so tall by now. Just like his dad!" You mentally high-fived yourself for being able to remember his daughter's name.

"Ugh... She is actually with Eun-ji and her husband, in the US." He lowered his head for a moment, as this was a difficult and personal topic.

"I did not know-"

"Don't worry! Things happen. So, how are you? And what brings you to Seoul?" He quickly changed the subject to focus on you. After all, there was a reason he came here.

"Oh not much. Well, actually, I went for some drinks with my coworkers and they all left. I was trying to get to my house, but-"

"I saw you on the camera of the motel. Are you okay?" His grip on your hand tightened.

"Are you... working there?" Your head was not focused on the problem that brought you to this place.

"I'll explain it later, but yeah. Now tell me, are you in danger?" The joy on his face faded, revealing an expression of concern. That was the real intention that brought him here, despite wanting to see you.

"I think... I think a guy is following me." You started to remember the details of the night. "I was at the club and, as I was about to have a drink, a man in a suit offered to pay for it. He got closer to my ear and asked me if I wanted to play a game. I said nothing and went back with my coworkers. Then, sometime during the night, he came up to me again and started saying some scary shit like…." Gi-hun listened as he breathed deeply, worried about the suited man.

"What did he say?" He asked, his hand still gripping yours.

"He knew my name and surname. Also my debt. It was so weird. I decided to walk away from that place as fast as I could. I'm scared, Gi-hun. I don't want to go to my house in case he follows me, but maybe he already knows where I live."

"Don't worry, (Y/n). I'll stay here with you. You can stay at my house if that's what makes you feel safer."

"Yeah, that sounds good. Thanks, Gi-hun." On your way back to his home, you did not expect him to be living on the pink motel. Even less expected: he was the owner. The door to his room was reinforced and had various latches. The inside was quite messy with papers all around, yet he kept the place pretty clean. As you inspected the room, you quickly took notice of the different screens that showed various locations of the motel. He had cameras almost everywhere. This made you worry more about his situation than yours.

"There are many thugs around here. I like to keep an eye on them." Gi-hun sat confortably on his bed, leaving a space for you to sit beside him. You decided to sit in front of him in a wooden chair, ready to get all the answers.

"What's going on here, Gi-hun? How did you get all the money to pay for this motel and... well all of this?" The worry in your eyes was notorious. What had this man gotten himself into?

...

The hours went by quickly. You shared laughs, talked about recent losses, struggles, reminisced about childhood memories. The fear dissipated. Had a few. The attraction you felt for him was slowly more and more obvious. You got up the courage over drinks and decided to flirt with him. Gi-hun seemed to be into you by the way he laughed at all of your jokes and how he touched your arm from time to time.

"Hey, if I go into the bathroom. There won't be cameras watching me, right?" You warned him by tugging firmly on his shirt collar. The corner of his mouth trembled trying to hide his laughter.

"No, don't worry, (Y/n)." He raised his arms in an attempt to prove his innocence.

"Good." You pointed the leather bag that was on his bed and he brought it closer to you. "Thanks." With a last dangerous but flirtatious glance, you left the room.

The bathroom was not anything out of this world, yet it had a very nice bathtub with a purple curtain. You checked your face on the mirror to reapply mascara. Your lipstick was long gone but as you were anticipating a lot of making out for this night, you did not put any on. For an extra spicy touch for the night, you took your panties and bra off, hiding them in your bag. Now you were only wearing a tight dress that left no room for imagination. Once you were ready, you walked back to the room. An entertained and slightly drunk Gi-hun was waiting patiently on his bed.

"You look different." Gi-hun's hand was resting near his crotch and the other one was holding his weight.

"You like it?" He was enjoying your moves as you showed him your dress. You left the bag on the floor and walked enticingly towards him.

"(Y/n), you look amazing." You sat on his lap facing him, with your expossed crotch pressing on his clothed member. Gi-hun's jaw was relaxed and all you could hear were his heavy breaths, filled with desire to have you.

"You should have told me that a long time ago." You cupped his cheeks between your hands. His face looked pretty funny all squashed up.

"I'd never thought a woman like you would like someone like me." Your hands were impeding Gi-hun from speaking properly.

"You want to fuck me then?" Your direct question caught him off guard, so you took the chance to explore his body. Your index finger caressed softly his cheekbone, admiring his handsome features. You then moved to his shoulders, massaging them and pulling his shirt down. As you started touching him, his hands travelled from your back to your butt, pressing his nails softly. When he noticed you were not wearing panties he gave you a dirty look that let a loud laughter escape from your lips.

"You little freak." This just made him want you more. His movements became more savage, exploring with more passion and leaving no room for shyness. You could feel his clothed erection pressing between your thighs.

"You look so hot when you're horny." You complimented Gi-hun enjoying his facial expression. You also teased him with some wet kisses.

"(Y/n). You can't even imagine how much I want to fuck you." He brushed his fingers over the hem of your dress, lifting it slowly to reveal more skin.

"Me too." He squeezed your ass cheek, still waiting for permission to touch in between your thighs. As it was quite difficult to reach to your parts in this position, you laid down on the bed. You opened your legs widely, making it clear that you wanted him.

"You are quite impatient, aren't you?" He said as he grabbed your thighs firmly. As his head lowered down in between them, you traced with your fingers along the strands of his hair. You could feel his hot breath in your pussy sending shivers throught your entire body.

"Touch me." You ordered but he ignored you. He kept massaging all the places around your pussy to make you crave his touch even more.

"I'm sorry, darling. You will have to beg for it." He licked his lips softly caressing around your folds with his fingers.

"Please, Gi-hun. I need you." You pleaded and he seemed to be satisfied. His index finger found you clit and started rubbing circles against it. You took advantage of the fact that you were holding his hair and you lowered his head to your pussy. In no time, his lips were sucking on your clit, making you shiver and pant even faster. He changed the motions and pace from time to time, which made you go crazier for him. Your vagina was pulsating, wanting him to penetrate you desperately. Gi-hun took notice of this and moved his hand closer to your entrance. He slipped a finger inside of you and in return, you gave him a satisfied smile as he pumped it in and out. Then, he pulled one finger more, still sucking and licking on your clit.

"Is this what you want?" His face was now not so many inches away from yours and his finger still pumping in and out of you.

"I need you Gi-hun, please. Fuck me." You said that last one making eye contact with him flirtatiously. He pulled out his wet fingers out of you for a moment and moved to a drawer to get something.

"You see. When I bought this place it came with some free toys. I still have not had the chance to use them. Wanna try?" He revealed a vibrating bullet and turned it on, showing you the different modes and intensities it had. You gave him a quick 'yes' with your head. He pressed the toy on your clit and a loud moan escaped from your lips when he inserted his fingers back. He enjoyed every bit of it.

"Gi-hun!" You exclaimed grabbing his hand with force. The sensations were becoming overwhelming.

"You look so beatiful like this." He complimented as you panted heavily. "I wonder what you would look like with my cock inside of you." Gi-hun grabbed your wrist guiding it to the vibrating bullet. Now you were the one in control of the modes and intensities. As his fingers were no longer inside of you, you decided to try with a different mode. While you were playing with the vibrator, Gi-hun's hand hooked under your thigh and pulled one of your legs over his shoulder. The other hand unzipped his pants and pulled down his boxers to reveal his throbbing erection.

"You like that?" He asked rubbing the tip of his penis in your entrance. Seeing your facial expression of pure pleasure and the moans you gave in response were more than enough for him to keep going.

"I want you, Gi-hun." The sound of his name in your lips made him groan. The moment you said you wanted him, he pressed his dick slowly inside of you.

"You feel so good on my dick." His size filled your vagina and he waited a moment for you to adjust before thrusting. Once you were ready he started thrusting in and out slowly. Then, his eyes dropped down to your bouncing boobs.

"Like what you see?" You moved the hand that wasn't holding the vibrator to your boob and gave it a gentle squeeze. Even if he liked it, he decided to take a more dominating role. He grabbed your wrists and pulled them over your head.

"What about this? You like it?" You smiled in return and crossed your legs around his waist so he would keep thrusting deeper. With his dick inside you and the vibrator, you wouldn't last long.

Looking at Gi-hun, he would not last any longer either. His movements became more erratic and his moans louder. Your breaths quickened and your vagina tightened as you were reaching orgasm. Gi-hun took notice of this and kept the pace even if he was almost there too. You could feel everything with even more intensity now. His lips kissing yours and the wet sensations. His moans. His one day beard tickling your face. The tight grip on your wrists. His dick pressing in and out. Your vagina walls tightening. Your breath going faster. You soon came on his dick and his mouth muffled your moans. Your fluids lubricated his member which made it easier to penetrate you.

"Keep going." You told him still feeling some pleasure even if it was less intense. He pumped his dick in and out a few more times before spilling his cum inside you. Once he was done, he pulled his dick out and the cum spilled out of your vagina.

"That was amazing." He said with a satisfied smile laying beside you on the bed. He brushed a strand of hair away from his forehead and gave you a soft peck on your lips.

"Yeah, we should hang out again some time. You almost made me forget about that guy."

#seong gi hun x reader #squid game #squid game season 2 #squid game s2 #gi hun #squid game 2 spoilers #squid game spoilers #squid game x you #squid game x y/n #squid game x reader #squid game fanfic #squid game gi hun #squid game 456 #squid game smut #squid game fic

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dooberific · 1 month ago

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This is kinda weird but can I request a fic of reader convincing harumasa to start a 401k?

Happy you’re self aware bbg because this was a wild request to find ✋💀. I was googling so if there are any inaccuracies I blame reddit ELI5 threads.

❝ 𝘙𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘗𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘉𝘭𝘶𝘦𝘴 ❞

harumasa x afab!reader

genre: slice of life (anymore so and we would be asking him to join the neighborhood watch), some suggestive language

wc: 1.1k

“Somebody’s here suspiciously early.”

“Oh you know, my chest started hurting around four o’clock so I had to take off early.” He accentuated his tale of woe with a little fake cough, mirth dancing in his golden eyes as he neared your seat on the end of the pier.

Could you really blame him? His day was just so painful with all that paperwork, so when his favorite girl texts him with a surprise invitation for dinner at one of his favorite places? What was he supposed to do?

You reached into the convenience store bag behind you, producing a canned drink, waving it invitingly in his direction. “Bitter melon juice for the gentleman?”

“When a lovely lady offers it,” he plucked the can from your fingers, sweeping his head down to press a chaste kiss to your lips as you giggled, “How could I refuse~?”

He sat down beside you, legs dangling over the edge of the pier. “What’s the occasion? I know I’ve been a particularly good boyfriend lately but this seems a little too good to be true.”

“Can’t I invite you out for a romantic picnic date without ulterior motives?” You rolled your lip out in a faux pout, reaching back into the bag behind you as you slung a saran wrapped sandwich at his chest.

“Oh, homemade sandwiches, super romantic.” He teased as he picked at the wrapping before taking a bite, immediately recognizing the flavors of your truly homemade chicken salad.

“What’s next, gonna slip your granny nightgown on when we get home? You know that thing really turns me on.”

“I will have you know, my grandma ended up with seven kids wearing one of those.” You hissed as you took a bite of your own sandwich before waving it threateningly in his direction, kicking at his ankles. “Besides! It’s comfy and someone wasn’t complaining last time I wore it.”

“Guilty as charged~”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t reply, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence as the sound of the waves lapping at the piers and the rush of the wind carrying a spray of sea foam lulled you into a tranquil state.

“What are you thinking about?”

His question took you by surprise. You hadn’t realized how mindlessly you had stared off into the horizon till he anchored you back in. You smiled, scooting to his side as you threw your arms around his middle, your cheek squishing against his shoulder.

“Just thinking about us…and the future, I guess. I think I’m just a little worried sometimes.” Your head swiveled up to prop your chin on his shoulder, watching as his brow furrowed below his headband. His hand squeezed your knee.

“What’s got you worried?”

“I don’t think you’re taking your life seriously.”

The abruptness of your words surprised even you. You had rehearsed it in the mirror multiple times, trying to figure out how best to address it with him but that was all out the window now.

He fiddled with the tab on his drink can, head low. “This is about that retirement stuff the association sent, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” There was no use denying it anyways. You had questioned him when the packet came in the express mail, leafing through the papers outlining H.A.N.D’s 401k procedure before he told you not to worry about it. It was in the trash can the next morning.

“I don’t think you’re considering it like you should. You’re not living on borrowed time like you think you are, even the doctors have been pleased with how well your health has been maintaining.”

He laughed ruefully.

“Every day I wake up is borrowed time. I’m a medical anomaly whether you accept it or not.”

“Keep talking like that and you’ll end up living to a ripe old age.” You chimed with a pop of your lips, bumping his shoulder.

“I just thought that since the government cut down the retirement age for Executive Officers to 35 that it might not be such a bad thing to consider, especially,” you tapped his nose with the tip of your finger, “since somebody I know would much rather play than work.”

You shuffled backwards on the deck, hitting your knees as you wrapped your arms around his neck from behind. You rested your head on his shoulder.

“Just think. Thirty-five, a retired smoking hot former executive officer lounging on his boat.”

He laughed, his shoulders shaking as he peered at you in his periphery. “On a boat huh?”

“Why not?” You replied with a shrug. “What better way to experience the freedom of the wind and the sea? I could think of much less pleasant ways to spend your time than waking up and enjoying the sunrise over the bay.”

You squeezed him a little tighter as you brushed your lips over his ear. “Maybe if you’re extra good your equally smoking hot girlfriend will invest in a few bikinis and you won’t have to complain about those granny nightgowns anymore~”

“Now we’re getting somewhere.”

You snorted, shaking your head, hands drifting down his arms as you twiddled with his fingers till he threaded your fingers together with his.

“Do me a favor and think about it?”

You don’t get an answer before his phone chimes in his pocket. His face falls, and you know it’s work on the other end.

“Sorry baby,” his apology comes with a kiss. “Let’s get you home.”

You felt guilty when you saw the packet of paperwork on the edge of the counter when you returned to your shared apartment, having fished it out of the trash before you hatched your dinner intervention. You swiped it back off the counter, dropping it back into the bin with a sigh.

You didn’t remember when he crawled into bed with you, but you did stir when his morning alarm went off, feeling the bed shift as he got up. You yawned, dragging yourself out after him, draping the comforter over your shoulders like a cape to fight off the morning chill as you padded to the kitchen to start the coffee pot.

You poured a cup for yourself as you topped off his work cup, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you squinted at the packet of papers folded neatly on the kitchen counter.

You waved it curiously at him as he appeared in the kitchen beside you, adjusting his tie as he plucked his cup off the counter.

“Haru, what’s this?”

“That,” His nimble fingers teased at your knuckles as he swiped the papers from your grasp, leaning in to plant a coffee-flavored kiss against your lips, “is our retirement boat.”

He slipped on his shoes, popping the front door open as he spun around and shot to a wink.

“Better start picking those bikinis, babe.”

Rey 2024

#asaba harumasa #harumasa x reader #zenless zone zero #zzz harumasa #zzz #zzz x reader #harumasa zzz

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grannyandgrandpascreations · 3 months ago

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Returns: In order to keep our pricing as competitive as possible, we do not offer returns. If you are not satisfied with a particular month’s design, we encourage you to gift it to a friend or a family member and stick around for the following month!

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Due to different light settings the actual color might vary a bit from the pictures.

Current Turnaround Time due to upcoming Holidays - 1-5 Business Days. While we always use priority shipping options, once shipped we cannot guarantee delivery due to the backlog current being experienced USPS/UPS/FedEx. If you have a strict deadline, please message me when ordering so that I can note any rush requests. Ownership of packages turned over to USPS transfers to the Buyer. We are not responsible for lost, held, damaged packages or delayed packages, once your package(s) leaves our Shop it is completely out of our control. Thank you for understanding!

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#grannygrandpascustomcreations - #t-shirt - #T-Shirtsubscription - #subscriptionbox

The pictures with this listing is just examples of the the Humor T-Shirt Subscription.

How does Granny and Grandpa’s Custom Creations T-Shirt Subscription Work?

Shipping: We can ship to you or a loved one. To make any changes to your shipping request, the change(s) would need to be made 7 days prior to the 1st of the month.

Sizes: We offer adult sizes small to 3XL. If you are needing a 4XL or larger, please reach out to us at [email protected]

Care instructions: Turn item inside out, machine wash cold, no bleach, no softener. Do not dry clean. Do not iron. Tumble dry low.

Due to different light settings the actual color might vary a bit from the pictures.

#grannygrandpascustomcreations - #t-shirt - #T-Shirtsubscription - #subscriptionbox

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earlysunshines · 1 month ago

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secret rhymes - 22. bumping into... you? (half-written)

a/n: i need tim tams rn i'm so hungry... either that or ketchup chips or lowk i would kill for rice crackers oh myogosdkjadllksda

after checking your phone to read the numbers plastered on your screen, you were appalled.

you've woken up at the most ungodly hour. since you passed out early, your body naturally decided to wake you up at three in the morning. maybe that's because you took a nap prior to (getting scared to death) meeting up with anton.

you rolled around in bed for at least fifteen minutes, trying to keep your eyes closed and force yourself back to sleep. nothing worked, sleep is not happening again tonight—or, well, this morning.

now you're in the bathroom of anton's grandparents' (who are the sweetest couple ever for letting you stay the night, even telling you to visit more often when you're free) house looking at yourself in the mirror. your eyes are a bit puffy after sleeping, and your hair is a bit disheveled. but now that you're up there's no going back to sleep for another few hours.

after glancing at yourself once more and splashing cold water on your face, you decide that maybe a late-night walk—and snack run—isn't the worst option. your stomach growls just a bit after you've made the decision, and you come to the conclusion that this has to happen, especially since the nearest convenience store isn't too far.

when you go back to the room, you search around for your puffer jacket, plopping it on the t-shirt you stole from anton and deciding to keep the gray sweatpants you have on. before you leave the room, you also steal a beanie—anton's. speaking of him, he's passed out on the large bed clinging onto a pillow, facing the other direction and snoring lightly. you sneak a picture, it's what best friends are for.

the store is a fifteen-minute walk away, which is enough time to clear your head and listen to a few songs from your playlist. and when you get there, you scan the to-go food section, grab one roll of gimbap, then head to the drink aisle.

you scan the options before reaching over to grab a peach tea, then your hand brushes against someone else's suddenly. startled, you glance up. the girl next to you is wearing a mask, and you've got your earbuds in, so you silently nod your head and mouth an apology before stepping back to let them take the drink.

the girl pauses, her eyes widening slightly. then, to your surprise, she lowers her mask.

it's hanni.

you both freeze for a second, taking in the absurdity of the situation before breaking into quiet laughter. "no way," she says, "what a coincidence."

"couldn't wait to see me again? it's only been a few days." you reply, voice light and teasing. a bold response, but hanni laughs brightly, matching your energy.

"you could say that, if you want to get ahead of yourself."

you chuckle softly before grabbing your own drink, and before you know it, you're walking side by side to the register together. after you two pay, hanni is the first to question you.

"so, what are you doing up at this hour?"

"i woke up early on accident, couldn't sleep after that." you admit. "i was sleeping over at my friends' grandparents' place. the house isn't far from here and i like walking..." you glance at her. "you?"

"it's one of my off days," she says, tucking her hands into the pocket of her cardigan. "but i accidentally set my alarm way too early, and once i woke up, i couldn't go back to sleep. so... here i am."

you both chuckle, the conversation flowing easily after that while you snack and sip. hanni seems pleasantly surprised by how casual it all feels, especially given how tense your first meeting had been. the two of you talk about everything—from yunjin's antics to random late-night thoughts, even snacks.

hanni finds herself smiling at the anecdote you drop about your favorite dried squid snack from a store near your house back home. when you sigh, looking up at the moon acting all sad, it makes her laugh. and then hanni starts talking about tim tams, talking about how much she misses the taste of them and that she'd do anything to have one right now. you agree with her, both of you are a tad bit homesick.

the two of you continue to talk about snacks, specifically getting heated over snacks you both hate. it's then that you catch hanni shivering a bit, offering to give her your jacket since she's only in a cardigan and a long sleeve thermal.

her eyes widen at the offer. "no, it's fine, really." hanni assures, "you're so sweet, thank you."

"just wear it for now." you slip one arm out and continue as you fully take it off. "i have a really warm hoodie underneath."

hanni hesitates, biting the inside of her lip before she takes the puffer.

"thank you y/n," hanni says as she takes the jacket, slipping it on and immediately grateful for the warmth it provides. "i owe you."

"it's nothing." you shrug, sipping on your tea and smiling. "can't have you getting sick, you know?"

hanni realizes that wow, you're even better than the little version of yourself she's made up in her head. you're real and sweet and kind and cute. you're more than just a great singer, but a great person. and with that though hanni wonders if she should tell you about, well, how she's a fangirl

before she can do so, you bashfully admit as you kick a rock, "so, uh, i've been listening to your group more lately. after running into you last time, i felt bad about not knowing much about you and the others."

"oh. you don't have to feel bad," she says quickly, her voice soft and assuring.

"well, i do." you say with a small laugh. "but i'm glad i did. i've had ditto on repeat, i made my friend from new jersey—the one from the sleepover—listen and watch the music videos. and also..." you hesitate, scratching the back of your neck before continuing, "you look really pretty in the music video and the performances."

hanni blinks, her steps faltering for just a moment before her cheeks turn pink. she looks away, biting back a shy smile. "thanks," she murmurs, clearly flustered.

before long, it's time to part ways. hanni slips off your puffer jacket, and when you put it back on, it smells more like sugar cookie than your normal scent of jasmine. and as soon as you look back at hanni, you realize that your puffer suited her well despite it being a bit long and oversized.

you stand in front of her after throwing away the packaging, mustering up some courage. "hey, before um, you know, we part..."

"yeah?" hanni asks, suddenly nervous as well.

"would it be okay if i got your number? i know it might be too forward, with you being an idol and all, so no worries if—"

"of course." hanni interrupts, smiling as she pulls out her phone. "i don't mind at all."

a smile pulls at your lips and hanni can't help but mirror your expression. you exchange numbers, and as she tucks her phone back into her pocket, she glances back up at you. "i'm glad we ran into each other, it's no surprise that you and yunjin are friends, haha."

"i'm glad we ran into each other as well. you're really interesting, i like you—your energy! i mean. yeah, you're um, you're cool." you cringe internally, maybe that wasn't the best choice of words? gosh, you sound like a child, who says 'you're cool—'

"hey y/n?"

"ah. yeah?"

"it'd be nice to get to know you more. i'd, i'd um, i'd like to hangout with you again sometime. it can be just us— o-or you know, yunjin too... maybe my members, y-you know." hanni is stuttering, and now she wants to turn and run and never look back. she looks back into your eyes, taking a quick breath in. "if you're down."

"i'd like that a lot." you respond immediately, grinning.

"right, okay." hanni smiles and it's then you realize just how short she is. it's kind of funny, but maybe you'll tease her another time. she tilts her head up just a bit to meet your gaze and the street lamp really makes her eyes stand out.

you can't believe you've just landed a new bond with not only an interesting person, but a whole idol. after getting to know hanni more, the whole idol thing doesn't really shake you as much. you just see her as someone who's really funny when discussing how much she loves eating everything and anything.

"i'll text you later." you say, "is that okay?"

"of course it is." hanni beams.

"okay." you give her a thumbs up before fixing the beanie on your head.

"you should try to sleep in again," she adds.

"yeah... i should." you giggle—hanni does too.

hanni waves at you and walks off. you watch her go for a moment, a strange fluttery feeling in your chest. as you turn and head back toward anton's grandparents' place, you can't help but smile to yourself.

it's a little past six in the morning, which means you've been out with hanni for around two hours.

two hours well spent, you conclude.

masterlist ; previous - next

taglist ! @namojoon @ly-gushka @layonaiguess @sonotcopingatall @artrizzler19 @yerimbrit @sixflame438 @nwjnsloona @saysirhc @nimnia @somedaydream @trovao-penguins @modanisgf @c-yerim @starstruckgoateepuppy @tzuyusdoughnut @kaypanaq @peranoo @haerinkisser @electronicluminarycoffee @yoohtonyy @secretcessy @keiji-jin @awkwardtoafault @syronns @linnnsworld

#kpop x reader #newjeans x reader #hanni x reader #hanni pham x reader #newjeans smau

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wibben · 3 months ago

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Pocky Day

----------------------------------------------------------

“Nanami! Check it out!”

The seasons had shifted almost without notice, and here you were, wrapped in the early chill of November, wrestling with your plastic convenience store bags and the loose sleeves of a coat that was not your own. The holidays were near; work was easing up, and curses seemed to fade with the colder air, which meant more free time. And you had resolved to spend it cracking the nut that was Nanami Kento.

Could you call him a friend now? Probably, you thought, if friendship included routine cups of coffee that tasted exactly as you liked, courtesy of him memorizing your order, and favorite sandwiches he only accepted from you because “the shop near your apartment makes them best.” The small gestures stacked up, predictable and warm.

As the two of you strolled down the Tokyo streets you stopped, shuffling crinkling bags with blunt mittened hands, delving into the pockets where you stashed your prize – aha!

You held up the carton between you, grinning through a nose gone red from the chill. “Did you know it’s Pocky Day?”

Cute, Kento thought, immediately charmed by the small, proud smile you wore. He shifted his glasses up his nose, a well-practiced excuse for a moment’s reprieve, hoping the sudden warmth in his face would pass.

“Is that a holiday?” he asked, careful to keep his voice steady as he looked down at the snack pack offered in your hand.

“Sort of,” you replied, your smile widening. “It’s today – eleven-eleven, you know? Looks like the sticks.”

He reached for the box, if only to indulge in the blanketing contentment of his fingertips brushing over the wool of your mittens. The softness of it, the small closeness, was something he never quite allowed himself to savor – yet there you were, none the wiser to his plight.

“Hm. I see.” He raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like another capitalist holiday to me.”

“No no, this ones different! They’re cheap today and it’s fun—”

“Yes, cheap. To make you buy it. Like every other capitalist holiday.”

You shot him a look, glaring padded daggers into the back of his blonde head and hurried to catch up as he started walking again, huffing dramatically. “You’re no fun sometimes. Where’s your whimsy?”

Kento’s smile softened as he turned away, letting himself indulge for a second in the fondness that always crept up around you. Very cute, he thought again, and not for the first time. He tore open the cardboard carton with a deft press of his thumb against the perforation and peeled open the foil pack inside, passing it sidelong back to you to accept into your uselessly mitted palms.

You shuffled the box, jostling a single stick upward to pluck out with your teeth, then held the box out to him with a silent offer and a toothy smile. Kento accepted one with a quiet nod.

He twizzled the chocolate-free end between his thumb and forefinger, taking small contemplative bites as you both walked.

“There’s supposed to be a thing you do with it, too,” you said after a pause, feeling stinging warmth creep up to your cheeks. “Like… you know. With a pocky stick. People eat it from both ends.”

You kept your tone light, as casual as you could, but your heart was louder in your ears than you’d like, beating with all the wild things you wanted but couldn’t bring yourself to ask for as you tested the waters. God you wish he would bite. How might his breath feel, warm and humid, on your chilly and frost-nipped face? Watching those eyes that always looked so sharp get closer and closer to your own, watching them soften, feeling the snap of the pocky stick as it broke bit by bit into his mouth until his lips met yours—

Kento’s eyebrow quirked just so, his gaze flicking from the pocky in his hand to you. You can’t just say things like that, he bemoaned, feeling your words strike sharp and deep. Because if he had it his way, he’d stop you, right here on the sidewalk, reel you in close until he could feel the warmth of your breath mingling with his. He’d cradle your chilled face between his palms, brush away that tempting smear of chocolate on the corner of your mouth with his thumb – and then, finally, he’d kiss you, no hesitation, no half-measures, just the taste of you against his lips, snack be damned as he’d been tempted to do for months.

And for a moment he considered it. He considered it, because when the silence stretched and he looked at you just a little too long you turned to look at him too.

Too obvious, you internally wailed.

She didn’t mean it like that, he doused himself.

And so Kento shrugged, keeping his response as carefully noncommittal as he always did. “What an inefficient way to share.”

He wanted to smack himself.

Your heart dipped a little at the careful, too-neutral tone in his voice. “Right. Silly,” you said, laughing it off, but your voice was a shade softer than it had been.

And as if some twist of fate wanted to rub salt in the wound, a couple ambled past, laughing as they attempted that very thing. They were awkward, leaning in close in the fogging vapor of their cloudy breath, their laughter bubbling and sweet as the shared pocky stick disappeared between their lips.

Your own heart stuttered. You watched them until it felt too voyeuristic to continue, feeling the cold air bite a little harder as you snuck a glance at Kento. His face was unreadable, focused on the path ahead.

The rest of the walk, neither of you brought it up again, and the box was shared between you until it was empty.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Another year came and went, swallowed in the rush of work and curses and routines until you’d all but forgotten about Pocky Day – what was the use, anyway? It was a capitalist holiday, as Kento would say. Something trivial and best left unthought of until it came around again.

So you were taken by surprise to find Kento standing beside your desk that morning, silhouetted in soft strokes of pale yellows and baby blue. He was neat as ever, his coat perfectly buttoned, and as ever, the sight of him sparked something traitorous in the dying twitch in your chest.

You considered your shot to have been well and truly fired – and that was okay. Friendship was fine; you could live with it. You told yourself this every time you had to tame the excited pitter patter of your heart whenever you saw him.

“You’re early today,” you said, surprised but smiling. “You didn’t have to—”

“It’s Pocky Day,” he said simply, holding up a red box as if it was simply a matter of fact, just like picking up coffee… which also sat steaming on the edge of your desk.

“Oh.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden rush of butterflies that exploded in your belly. It doesn’t mean anything, you tempered yourself. “Right! I ah – I forgot! So, I guess… we’re doing this again?”

Kento rumbled and stepped across the room to you when you failed to move closer, offering the box to you as you had once offered it to him. “I thought it might be a nice tradition.”

You took the box from him, fingers brushing without the barrier of gloves, and you felt your soul tremble like the fragile leaves that still stubbornly clung to the trees just outside the large office window.

You struggled to open the box, sucking in a breath from between your teeth to steady the unfortunate shaking of your fingers. There was an odd intensity to his silence, the way he stared at the box in your hands waiting for you to open it. You felt oddly pressured, and the enormity of the relief you felt from such a diminutive victory when you finally peeled it open was almost enough to shake you to your knees.

Your pulse ratcheted an uneven staccato as you drew out a single stick, offering it to him. “Kento.”

Instead of taking it, he hesitated, his gaze lingering on yours with a weight that made your chest feel heavy. And then, he bowed forward, his eyes never leaving yours, lips parting around the end of the pocky stick in a single, deliberate motion and reeled back with it pinched between his teeth. There was a quiet challenge in the lift of his brow, something vulnerable and daring woven together; an invitation and a question laid bare in his expression, highlighted and punctuated by the slow bleed of red blooming over high cheekbones.

Your pulse roared in your ears, catching you frozen. All you could do was stare, and in that pause, his confidence flickered, just for a second, his steady breaths growing slightly shallower as his eyes flicked between yours. That flutter of panic at his own boldness, like he might’ve misjudged this completely, tightened something inside you, and you couldn’t have that.

Slowly, you leaned in, feeling his breath feather warmly against your cheek. You bit the stick delicately, feeling the faint returning snap of it from the other end. Kento moved closer in response, eyes locked on yours, his gaze unreadable but unmistakably intent, filling you with a fire that licked at your spine. His lips were so close – close enough that you felt every small shift, every inch he dared forward, the space between you shrinking in this mutual game of chicken that neither of you intended to bow from.

You bit again, your noses brushing, hearts racing in the quiet with a fluttering synchronicity that left you dizzy. And then, in the last breath of chocolate between you, his lips met yours, as soft and hesitant as the very first touch of spring.

For a stunned second, it was pure disbelief: you were kissing Kento. He kissed you. Every ounce of longing and every secret glance you’d ever thieved was suddenly, incredibly, impossibly real, and that realization burst inside you with a giddiness that made your atoms buzz.

The taste of chocolate and mint mingled with something undeniably him, a warmth so complete you felt it seep into your bones. The world outside of your bubble paused, cradling the two of you in a moment that felt so obviously inevitable yet so fragile, like any sudden movement might shatter it.

You were caught in this vacuum of your own creation. Your eyes fluttered open, unsure whether to savor the kiss fully or to steal glances at him, afraid to miss a single, precious detail. You felt the faintest brush of his eyelashes against your cheek, his breathing soft against your skin. The closeness was overwhelming, yet you hesitated to give in entirely, your lashes fluttered with uncertainty against his cheekbone. You would pull away when he did, because oh, what if somehow you were misreading this? What if you embarrass yourself by lingering too long, what if it’s a misunderstanding, what if, what if, what if—

But Kento felt it too. Not letting you drift into uncertainty, his hand came up, fingers warm as they cradled the back of your head, steadying you as he tilted you just a little closer. The moment didn’t end with the last snap of the pocky, nor with the chocolate gone from both of your lips. His kiss deepened – until it broke. And his eyes opened enough to meet yours as he dipped down for a second time, this time without pretense or excuse – he kissed you because he wanted to and he always did.

Each press of his lips was steady, adoring. He kissed you with the tenderness of someone who wanted to remember every part of this and wanted you to remember it just the same; who wanted to remember the exact shade of your blush, the soft, delighted sigh he felt more than he heard, the way your fingers curled reflexively at his shirt collar as you allowed him to melt every last inch of you.

When he finally pulled away, it was slow, his forehead resting gently against yours as his thumb traced small, bashful circles at the base of your neck. A soothing gesture, whether meant for you or for him it hardly mattered, because you’re both left equally dazed. And the look in his eyes, warm and unguarded, told you he was no more ready to pull away than you were.

After a long moment Kento let out a soft, almost reluctant chuckle, his lips twitching upward in a devastatingly cute way with how the expression shook. He glanced down at the box of pocky hanging limp in his free hand, having been completely forgotten. “There’s… still more in the box,” he said, hushed, like he’s hesitant to push his luck any further than he felt he already had.

Your chest gave a hopeless little squeeze, a nervous giggle of your own bubbling from your throat. “Oh, really?” you teased, your lips curling into a shy smile. “Should we finish it?”

He gave you that look again, the one that always made you swoon – something warm and appreciative, and now you can see it much more clearly: bursting with promise. He raised the box again and offered it to you quietly, “It would be a shame to waste it, I think.”

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remiivu · 3 months ago

Text

Ghostly Companion-- Chapter 2

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Thank you everyone for reading! This chapter features mostly soft, domestic fluff as I work out the plot! Next update in ~3 days. Enjoy!

[Ao3 link]

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“Hehehehe!” Is what you awoke to, followed by the heart-stopping blare of cars passing by way too close for comfort.

You jolt, held in place by Mr. Crawling’s firm arms. He laughs again, giving your face a poke. “Not ∎∎∎∎!” He coos rather loudly, and you sigh.

“Yeah, good morning, Mr. Crawling,” you say, despite the sun hardly being up. It’s actually still pretty dark, and as you survey your brand new area, you notice that you’re on a rather steep part of the mountains, adjacent to some dirt roads and the scarce road lights illuminating the area.

“∎∎∎ stops!” Mr. Crawling says, rocking the both of you gently in a soothing back-and-forth motion. Huh, for being dead and rather thin-looking, his lap was actually pretty comfortable.

You eye the area, trying your best to repeat “∎∎∎?”

Mr. Crawling nods quickly with a smile. “∎∎∎!” He says, pointing at the road.

Oh, road?

But– wait, the road is very obviously continuing off towards somewhere, you muse quietly. Perhaps something more like… the path? If you look from his perspective, the monotonous dirt mounds, roots, and rockers were most definitely cut off by the road.

So, path will probably fit somewhat better.

You nodded, “Mhm, path stops. Go with me.” As you stand up, you groan a bit, stretching stiff limbs held tightly together for an extended period of time. Judging by the sky, he must’ve been dragging the two of you for a good amount of time.

You look right and left, and upon seeing no cars, you hurriedly cross the road, watching with relief as he does the same– in fact, he moves much quicker here, traversing the flat land with glee.

Upon crossing the road, you see the lights and tall buildings of your city, numerous of which you recognize based on the shape, ads, or colors.

“Oh thank god,” you smiled, looking back once more to check on your ever loyal ghost. Though he most definitely didn’t understand your relief, he seemed to mirror your relaxed and happy demeanor, swaying ever so slightly as he waited patiently for you to continue.

You grinned, then began to carefully trek through the remaining hills and bushes, mostly following the road from a safe distance. After all, you weren’t quite sure whether or not other people could see your new companion, and you’d much rather get back to your tiny apartment without any extra screams or the need to act like Mr. Crawling wasn’t 2 feet behind you.

Fortunately, Japan is much quieter at dawn than at midnight with most office workers having already gone home after a night of drinking or overtime. The few that remain were early risers much too tired to give their surroundings a second thought or still half drunk and passed out near the station or a random nook in an alley.

Lucky, lucky, lucky you think to yourself as you made steady progress to your apartment building. Feeling slightly more rested and in a better mood, you allowed Mr. Crawling explore the new setting for a few minutes, laughing at his reaction to window displays or any vending machines you passed by.

You felt far more secure walking around an area you know compared to the mountains.

“∎∎∎∎!” Mr. Crawling says, stopping to inspect a small collection of Gachapon outside a large convenience store.

You let out a small snort, his amusement infectious. You can't remember the last time you were that excited over a capsule machine. Maybe it was elementary school?

“Want one?” You ask, giving your bag a small shake to confirm that it still had coins in it.

Mr. Crawling brightened even more, “Me can?”

You fish out your coin pouch, digging around for some 100 yen coins. You pull out 2, handing them over to his hand and placing them in his palm.

You grab 2 more coins and demonstrate, picking out one depicting cute foods. You inserted the coins and twisted the lever, watching as a yellow ball rolled out. You picked it up, popping it open, and unfurling the wrap covering your brand new keychain, revealing a piece of cartoony buttered toast.

Mr. Crawling scooted closer, giggling out “cute cute cute!” as he poked and prodded at the small plastic thing.

Without a moment of hesitation, he inserts his coins into the same machine you had picked out, his hand turning the lever making a suspicious creak and clicking that, in your heart, signified something breaking.

Ah, shit… you thought half-heartedly as he took his yellow capsule, popping it open and tearing off the plastic covering. He let out giggles, staring at his tiny new keychain.

A cute fried piece of mackerel with little x marks over its eyes.

You let out your own laugh, absentmindedly patting his head as he poked and moved his keychain. His head jerks up, grin radiant, as he says “Me like ∎∎∎! Thank you!”

You felt your heart melt as you gave his head a rougher pat. “Of course. Me happy…uh– me happy you happy.”

Mr. Crawling gushed, lunging up to give you a tight hug that nearly brought you to the ground again. Your far more controlled yelp was cut off by your own laughs paired with his giggles as you combed your fingers through his hair. It wasn’t as neat as before, slightly ruffled up and tangled around small pieces of dirt, leaves, and rocks.

Yikes, he needed a bath. Do ghosts need baths? Well, regardless, you probably weren’t that far off, and the remains of dried blood would probably stop looking like the dried mud you knew other people assumed it was when the sun fully rises.

And so, the moment was rather brief, interrupted by some cars passing by, but it was more warmth than you’ve ever really experienced since childhood, and you truly cherished it.

“Alright, c’mon,” You grinned, taking a half a step back to indicate you wanted to move. “We go.”

Mr. Crawling, as sweet as can be, followed after, keeping his new keychain as… safe as can be tucked between his razor sharp teeth, the little mackerel swaying against his chin and jaw.

You tried your best not to laugh at the sight.

The journey to your apartment afterwards was as tedious as you recalled, the same streets looking hardly any different despite the fact that you were basically kidnapped into a new world and nearly died quite a few times. And, while the rush of laughter was nice, you could feel the remaining exhaustion built up from the past 24 hours weighing heavier on your shoulders with every few steps, your hour-or-so long nap hardly the rest you actually needed.

But, you can’t deny, having Mr. Crawling by your side was the motivation you needed as you hiked up roads and through narrow roads as you began to walk away from the most busting parts of the city, entering a residential area that was fairly secluded from the main streets.

Your building was more run down than most, cheap with some decent space for one person and some nice, elderly neighbors (that you really don’t want to traumatize). So, you opened the creaky entrance as quietly as you could, feeling confident that Mr. Crawling wouldn’t make much of a peep of noise until you reached your room.

You were 3 floors up, and you stopped yourself from letting out another huff of laughter at how at-home Mr. Crawling appeared to be on familiar concrete floors and stairs. That was too bad, honestly, as your house had wooden floors and some tatami mats, but a part of your mind, despite knowing how sturdy his limbs were, felt better that he wouldn’t be constantly kneeling and crawling on cold concrete floors like before.

And, really, it would be best for the both of you to leave that place as far behind as possible. In fact, you’d like to convince yourself that everything was a dream, and you simply found a ghost in the mountains like all the ghost stories had warned you about. No blood, no torture room, and no man in red.

All normal. Regular life. No deaths or blood or a creepy face peering at you from every dark crevice.

You pull out your keys, giving your doorknob a soft rattle as it opens, and you breathe in a lungful of air you didn’t realize you could miss so much.

The air was slightly stale, but it was nothing an hour or so of airing out could fix.

You walk in, kicking off ruined shoes by the doorway and hesitating for a moment when you see Mr. Crawling’s… attire.

It wasn’t bad. For crawling in a damp mountain, it was actually very clean, but you were still on the edge of letting dirt and grime inside.

But when Mr. Crawling tilts his head, mackerel clicking against his cheek, you felt yourself give in with a small sigh, and nod with a smile that you simply couldn’t help.

You walked in, waving him in, and once settled upon the hardwood floor, you shut the door tight, ensuring everything was locked.

“∎∎∎?” Mr. Crawling asked, mouth free of a charm. It was now back in his hands.

You hummed, giving him a blank look that you knew he knew meant you didn’t understand.

Mr. Crawling, hardly deterred, points at your home. “∎∎∎? You ∎∎∎?”

Hmm… You contemplate, looking at your room. Was he trying to say home?

“Home,” you say patiently in your language, watching as Mr. Crawling had a turn of looking confused. “...H..” He mumbles, and you nod.

“Home,” you pointed all around your home. “Home. Me home.”

Mr. Crawling followed where your finger was pointing rather comedically, head craning backwards and torso twisting around to see everything you were showing him. “You ∎∎∎. You… home?”

Your smile was instantly matched by his as you nodded quickly in affirmation. “Yes! Me home! Me language. Home.”

Mr. Crawling giggles, then crawls further into the house, exploring. You take the time to get settled, placing your bag on the hanger and plugging your nearly dead phone into the nearest outlet. Stretching your tensed, spent muscles, you finally took the time to look at yourself in the mirror and cringed at the sight.

Firstly, your hair was an utter mess, grime and browned blood crusting up in it, on your face, and on a good amount of the rest of your body. Your clothes were frankly ruined, and you’ll have to burn them or something. There’s no way you’ll be able to explain why that much blood from a presumably missing person is all over you.

You give a glance at Mr. Crawling who paused his cabinet-inspection to, in turn, look at you.

… surely… you contemplate, not even registering the way he’s shuffling a bit under your gaze. Surely I can leave him alone for… 20 minutes? I need to shower at least… scratch the bath. I’ll probably fall asleep if I stay there.

Mr. Crawling hurriedly began shoving stuff back in, the clacking and banging drawing you out of your thoughts.

“Huh?” You question, eloquently, as Mr. Crawling asks, holding a dustpan, “You mad?”

… Oh? “No, no.” You quickly reassure, crossing the room to bend down a bit and pet his head. “Me happy you happy. You… uh..” You pause, eyes scrunching shut as you begin digging in your mind for a word.

“You… can.” You eventually settle with, feeling assured that he understood when he smiled. You watched for another few seconds as he re-emptied the now-messy floor cabinet, digging out items that you’ve frankly forgotten about, before turning away with a small laugh and walking off to the bathroom.

You pulled out a spare set of clothes, dumping your current ones into a pile, and watched as grime and crust poured into the drain.

________________________________

When you step out, feeling refreshed and relaxed, you spotted a mini pile of mess surrounding your brand new roommate who seemed eager, mackerel keychain in mouth, to explore.

You hummed, observing his dirty appearance, before making a decision.

After all, you can’t have someone that dirty resting on a clean, white futon– or even the tatami mats he thankfully hasn’t walked over yet. He needed a bath earnestly.

“Mr. Crawling,” You say, watching him turn in excitement.

“Hello!” He greeted, crawling towards you.

A brief half-second thought ensures that you truly had no word associated with water, wash, or anything along those lines, so you simply pointed into the bathroom, motioning towards yourself and your clean body.

“Uhm, wash. Bath,” You said, heading inside the still steamy room as you rinsed the tub and began filling it with water.

Mr. Crawling inspected it, peering at the warm water. “You,” you said, pointing inside the filling bathtub, followed by the motion of you washing your hair.

He tilts his head, jaw gently chewing at the keychain in his mouth. Then, when he sunk his arm in, you nodded fervently. “Yes yes,” You encouraged, motioning for him to get in.

When he sinks in, clothes bubbling to the surface, you contemplate asking him to take it off, but…

Yeahh, maybe not. You weren’t ready to see… whatever male ghosts had down there.

You pushed the fabric into the water, letting it soak up water until it sunk on its own and grimaced at the small wave of dirt that rose to the surface.

Yikes.

_____________________

Giggles erupted from the bathroom followed by small shouts of laughter periodically for the next 30 minutes as Mr. Crawling enjoyed the bath, splashing water out the tub and nearly melting when you firmly scrubbed his scalp and feet-long locks of hair.

You had drained and refilled the tub about 3 times now, the water finally a consistent clear color, that allowed you to wash and rinse the poor guy with some peace of mind.

“Good good! Happy!” Mr. Crawling cheered as he pushed his head up against your palms and fingers pressed against his head. “Thank you! Thank you!”

You laughed yourself, rinsing out the shampoo by scooping up buckets of water and pouring it over his head. “You really needed this,” you mused, gently layering a thin amount of conditioner onto his hair and letting it sit out on the side of the tub.

You can already see your bank account taking a foreseeable hit once your hair products run out.

Mr. Crawling giggled, taking out his now-warm arms to pet your (thankfully still wet) hair as you briefly scrubbed his legs and arms and attempted to wash his torso through his clothes. They seemed to be thin enough, after all, and it doubles as washing the fabric.

You snorted as hair fell into your face, large damp fingers clumsily pushing them away before you could really react. “You safe!” Mr. Crawling chirped, using his warm hands to cup your face and keep anything else from falling onto your eyes.

You felt your heart skip a beat as your cheeks began to warm themselves up, a soft smile firmly planted on your face. “And you’re very sweet,” you hum good naturedly, finishing up with a last rinse, drain of the tub, and wash down with the nearby showerhead.

You squeezed out as much water as you possibly could from your brand new sentient, crawling mop before helping him out of the tub and onto a towel. You gave him a small warning, motioning him to cover his ears as you plugged in the hairdryer, doing your best to dry him off.

He giggled, pulling his hands off his ears after a few moments and observing the hairdryer, reaching out to touch it a few times. “Cool! Noise ∎∎∎.” He said, watching his hair fly all around the room.

By the end, your arms were sore and your eyelids were heavy with the need to sleep, but he was dry and clean– very, very clean, skin no longer various shades of gray and clothes a step lighter than they used to be.

Before you could stand up and begin your voyage to your bed, he gently tugged you down, pulling you to sit on the towel.

“Huh?” You ask, watching as he fiddled with your hairdryer. He giggled when it roared to life, pointing the heated air at your head and clothes.

Oh… You relaxed, smiling as he tried his best to dry off whatever remaining moisture was in it. It was only slightly damp anyways, the air having done its job, but the tenderness of his fingers trying to run through your scalp and the warmth of not only the hairdryer but also the comfort of returning to some sort of semblance of a normal, soft, and loving life was enough to give rise to brand emotions that surged up from your chest and into your eyes.

You did your best to choke out anything threatening to escape your throat, but there was no hiding the tears burning in your eyes or the way your body tensed up against the knees pressed against your back.

Suddenly, the hairdryer shuts off, and a head smelling like your favorite shampoo pops in your vision, followed by “You sad? Hurt? Sad, you sad, me ∎∎∎.”

You sniffled, giving yourself that at least, and shook your head, quickly wiping off any tears. “No. No, me happy. You… nice. You nice… much. Me happy. Thank you.”

Still, Mr. Crawling looked concerned, giving your body a quick check over and closely inspecting your head to ensure he really didn’t hurt you. When he finds nothing, he leans back, crawling to your side.

“You rest?” He says, and you give a jerky nod.

“Yeah, me… rest. Need rest.” You mutter, standing up and kicking the towels off to the side as well. You could clean that up later.

You lead Mr. Crawling out the room and into the small alcove covered in a tatami mat, opening a cabinet and pulling out 2 futons, unrolling them onto the floor. You then grabbed your pillows, blanket, and hurried to make yourself as comfortable as possible, handing him his set so that he could do the same.

But, instead of setting up his bed like you, he just sat right beside you intently, merely laying down the futon and pressing his pillow against your side.

“What are you doing?” You mumble, voice slightly nasally and eyes a bit puffy. You simply laid down, too tired and half-embarrassed to remain sitting up, but let out a small noise as his body laid on top of yours.

“What are you–”

“You rest,” Mr. Crawling says with a smile, face pressed against your abdomen and his blanket resting against his legs. “You rest. Me ∎∎∎∎ you safe.”

And, honestly, you don’t bother with trying to refute anything anymore. You sighed, letting your overworked muscles relax and gently resting your hand on his head. You were home, you were safe, and you… you weren’t alone. You had someone there with you now. Someone who protected you and could keep you safe in your sleep.

You blink open your eyes briefly when you felt something cold and foreign press into the other hand resting at your side, but upon seeing the small mackerel and toast keychains resting in your palm, you let out a small snort and let your eyes fall shut once again, mumbling a small “goodnight..” as you felt yourself drifting off to sleep almost immediately.

“...g…goood…niight…”

That's all! Gave you guys a bit of a longer chapter (~3.2k words) as an extra thanks! Hope you enjoyed ^^

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[Ao3 link]

#mr crawling x you #mr crawling #mr crawling x reader #homicipher #x reader

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