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quokkacore · 4 years ago

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can you dig it? (m) [kim doyoung & kim jungwoo]

summary: post concert highs can be a real bummer, and tonight, after a particularly intense performance, your boyfriends help you come down.

pairing: kim doyoung x kim jungwoo x fem!reader

genre: poly!au, 70s!au, band!au, smut, fluff

warnings: drug usage (weed specifically), mentions of other substances (lsd and cocaine), shotgunning, established poly relationship, soft dom jungwoo, mentioned switch jungwoo, hard dom doyoung, sub reader, high sex, sex on a water bed!!, unprotected sex, spit kink, they're all so sweaty help, mxm, degradation kink, praise kink, orgasm denial, overstimulation, minor possessiveness

song recs: don’t stop - fleetwood mac // unlock it (feat. kim petras & jay park) - charli xcx // love her madly - the doors // ziggy stardust - david bowie // rhiannon - fleetwood mac // eclipse - kim lip (loona) // flick of the wrist - queen

word count: 5.4k

a/n: this is for my best friend, who i love with all my heart,bc last month we were talking abt the dowoo photoshoot and she said smth about high sex with dowoo. happy birthday queen <3 thank u for listening to me complain abt writing all the time :’)

masterlist

Friday, July 22rd, 1977

The concert hall smelled like cocaine and sweat, you noted to yourself as the three of you joined hands to bow. Cheers from the crowd bounced off of the walls as you bid them your final goodbye, wishing them a good night and telling them to drive safe. Still, their chanting persisted. "Seoul Motel! Seoul Motel! Seoul Motel!"

You wondered vaguely if this was what it was like to be a young god.

The curtain lowered, and the three of you were ushered offstage, to take some pictures and then head back to the hotel, to try and get some rest before you were off to Philadelphia, some five or so hours from where you were now: Boston.

Truthfully, everything passed in a blur. It was almost always like this after these concerts. The thrill and euphoria of performing made it difficult to focus on things. That might have also been because Jungwoo had passed you a joint before the concert. You couldn't be completely sure.

Your tambourine and guitar seemingly disappeared, but you knew it would show up tomorrow for soundcheck when you got to the Philadelphia venue, right along with Jungwoo's bass guitar and Doyoung's drum kit.

What you did know was that here, in the car back to the hotel that your manager was driving, lecturing you and Jungwoo about the importance of being sober when talking to reporters, Doyoung had a hand on your thigh, and that was all you could focus on.

Doyoung was high too. You knew this because ten minutes before you were needed on stage he pulled you forward by the hips and told you to take a few hits from the hand rolled joint and blow the smoke into his mouth. Of course, he wasn't as high as you and Jungwoo were, and he knew how to hide it better. But if you were to get close enough you'd notice the redness rimming his eyes, the dilation of his pupils.

The three of you were something, that was for sure. You had been, probably ever since Jungwoo joined the band, some eight years ago, in the fall of '69. You only really defined what you were once you got your first big hit thanks to some disc jockey in LA playing a song you had written, Calabasas, on the radio back in '73.

The song had blown up, and suddenly the three of you were whisked into a whirlwind of celebrities, drugs, paparazzi and producers who thought the three of you were born yesterday. Yes, you were college kids that ran on booze and weed, but you weren’t complete morons. That was when the three of you sat down to properly discuss boundaries, what slid and what didn’t.

You and your boys decided that night that weren’t down with the idea of everyone knowing. Too many prying eyes. The public didn’t really know, because the press would have a damn field day.

Other than that, it was a pretty open secret. In the industry, who was going around with who didn’t really matter—a lot of them were too off their face to even care. You realized that a few years back when David Bowie walked in on you watching Jungwoo and Doyoung get it on in a bathroom at some afterparty in New York City, and closed the door muttering something about how strong the edibles were.

So, what your manager said fell on deaf ears. Too much weed, too much adrenaline, too much energy for someone who needed to head back onto the road in a few hours.

When you finally got back to the hotel, Jungwoo grabbed your hand in the elevator on the way up to your rooms, which were right next to each other. "You said that your bed was really big… can we come up?"

You nodded, leaning against his arm. Doyoung hummed affectionately at the sight, noting how tired you both were.

"You two are about five seconds from passing out," Doyoung mumbled, and you waved your hand in denial.

"Are not," you protested like a child.

"Y/N, don't be a chump. I'm pretty sure if Woo weren't next to you, you'd have fallen over."

You didn't have the energy to counter, and as the elevator slid open, you were the first one to march out, ready to just take a cold shower and die for the next few hours.

Realistically, you knew that wasn't what would happen. What would happen was that you would shower, get into bed and then toss and turn for another hour or so. Only then would the adrenaline truly wear off. The weed didn't help, making you feel sleepy.

You unlocked the door, and Doyoung and Jungwoo gawked at the sight—and size—of your bed. It could probably fit all three of you easily.

Since only one room would spark rumors, the manager usually booked two: one for Doyoung and Jungwoo and one for you. Your room always went unused. Usually, you would have to push Doyoung's and Jungwoo's beds together to make enough room, leaving an awkward and uncomfortable dip for the person in the middle. Whoever got the middle was handed the terrible double edged sword: cuddles galore, but a sore back in the morning.

Immediately Jungwoo jumped onto the bed, gasping and immediately laughed gleefully as the bed sloshed underneath him.

"A water bed!?" He exclaimed, splaying out his limbs. "Oh, far out. You really lucked out, dollface."

He kicked off his shoes and curled up in the middle, eyes fluttering shut. You followed, sitting at the side as you peeled off your white leather go-go boots. Throwing yourself down next to him, you sighed at the sensation of waves beneath you, and nodded. "Oh, this is ace," You murmured, "Feels great."

Peeling one eye open as Jungwoo wrapped his arm around you, your gaze landed on Doyoung, who was still leaning against the wall. You beckoned him over with a hand. "C'mere, princey."

He made sure that the air conditioner was working before sitting down on the other side of Jungwoo, for which you were grateful. The still drying sweat on the back of your neck and on your chest started to cool instantly. You and Jungwoo giggled as Doyoung’s weight sent waves rippling beneath you.

"So, are you guys gonna sleep or what?" Doyoung asked, kicking his shoes off as well and peeling off his denim jacket. His eyes were still wide open and he didn't look tired at all. "I'm probably staying up a little later, I have some ideas for some lyrics I want to get down—"

"I would love to sleep. But I can't," Jungwoo declared before glancing knowingly at the both of you, "and neither can either of you."

You hummed in agreement. "Hmm, you're not wrong. Too much energy left."

You turned to bury your face into his chest. His forest green short-sleeved button up was only buttoned up halfway, easily revealing his collarbones. He smelled like pot, sweat, and designer cologne. His chest rumbled as he continued to speak.

"What about you, bunny boy? You can't tell me you don't still feel it."

"The weed or the concert jitters?" Doyoung's voice was raspy, cautious. He had a feeling he knew where this conversation was going. Once you and Jungwoo ganged up on him, it wouldn't take long to wear him down.

"Both," You and Jungwoo said in unison. You laughed at the sound. Doyoung chuckled as well, and you cracked your eyes open, despite how cozy you felt with Jungwoo stroking the skin of your nape.

"Well, the jitters are still there. That's why I'm staying up. As for the weed… well, yeah. I still feel it."

Jungwoo sighed. "How's the weed hitting you, though?"

"Honestly?" Doyoung's eyes met yours, and you felt something simmer in your chest. He huffed, deciding to take a bite of the apple, and leaned towards the both of you.

"The weed, plus watching you two perform… Safe to say I'm pretty fuckin' horny right now."

You bit your lip, giving him a sleepy grin. "Oh, Woo, we turned him on." The teasing tone wasn't missed despite the sleepiness in your tone.

"And what about it?" Doyoung asked, leaning back on his hands. "You can't say that watching Jungwoo do the thing doesn't get you going."

"I have a thing?"

"We all have a thing, Woo. Princey's over there is at the end of Mr. Jones' Motorcycle. You know, when he finishes the solo? He always throws his head back, because there's sweat and hair in his eyes. You can see his neck and shit..."

Jungwoo blinked. "Shit, that is his thing… What's mine?"

You raised an eyebrow at Doyoung. "His is the thing where he gets so into it that he throws his head back and plays, and still manages to get every bass note right, right?"

Doyoung nodded with a satisfied hum. "Gets you going, right?"

You brought a hand up to Jungwoo's chest, slowly sliding it down his stomach. Your voice lowered to a raspy murmur, and Jungwoo's hand tightened around your waist. "Damn right it does."

"And plus, you both have told me that watching me put together the drum kit is hot."

"'Cause it is!" Again you laughed as Jungwoo said the same thing you did.

"Jungwoo." Doyoung's voice sounded thicker. "You can't tell me that Y/N isn't an absolute vixen on stage."

"You're right," The younger man answered, voice gruff. His hand slid down, gripping your butt and giving it a light squeeze, before directing his words at you. "Oh! Y/N, your thing is when—you know how every time you play the transition from Calabasas to Saturn’s Rings you sway your hips and flip your hair back and forth? Sometimes you’ll look at me or at Doyoung while you do, and you looked at me tonight. You're a little tease up there, dollface."

Your breath hitched at their words. “Oh, yeah?” You goaded, cuddling further into Jungwoo’s chest. You let a coy smile grace your face as your eyes fluttered shut. “What do you want me to do about it?”

“Don’t be a brat,” Doyoung growled.

“No, Doie,” Jungwoo hummed. He suddenly sounded a lot more awake. “...What would you have her do about it?”

Your eyes fluttered open, swallowing despite the sudden dryness in your throat. Doyoung's pupils were still blown wide, but you were pretty sure it wasn't because of the weed. He licked his lips. "Princess, get on your knees."

Jungwoo prompted you up, pulling you up to stand at the side of the bed. Doyoung circled around the bed, before standing next to Jungwoo. Your gaze fluttered between your two boyfriends, one looking stern, the other looking like he was having the time of his life.

Quietly, you lowered yourself to kneel on the plush carpet, fingers gripping the silver fabric of your dress' skirt to hike it up, so that you wouldn't kneel on it. Your hands itched to reach for them but you knew you needed to ask for permission. "Can I touch you?"

Doyoung smiled, reaching for his belt. "There's our good girl," He said. Your mouth was already watering embarrassingly as you helped him undo his belt, pulling him out of his boxers. He was already half hard, and as you lifted your hand to spit in it, someone grabbed you gently by the rest. Jungwoo leaned over, turning your hand to reveal your palm to him. His eyes seemed to burn into yours as he let his spit fall into the palm of your hand. You felt your legs close, thighs trying to rub together at the sight.

"Go on," Jungwoo murmured, using a hand on your jaw to move your head. Your eyes fell on Doyoung's cock again, slowly getting harder and harder. Your hand wrapped around it, stroking slowly as you met his smoldering gaze. You stroked him until he was rock hard in your grip, and his breathing turned heavy. Again, you swallowed, and Doyoung noticed this time.

“What is it, princess? You want it in your mouth?”

“Yes, please,” You whispered, eyes wide. He chuckled breathily, head tipping back as you ran your thumb over the slit. His eyes met Jungwoo’s, who was palming himself through his pants.

“What do you think, baby?” He asked him.

“Don’t be mean, Doyoung,” Jungwoo said softly. “Look at her, she’s desperate. Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

You whined, nodding. The pair chuckled. Jungwoo grinned at the state you were already in. “Go ahead, dollface. Give it a kiss.”

Before Doyoung could say anything else, you took his dick into your mouth, and let out a soft moan at how heavy he felt, hot and pulsing. He let out a guttural groan of your name, a hand burying itself in your hair. His other hand gripped Jungwoo’s shirt, pulling him forward to meet in a tongue-filled kiss.

Slowly, Doyoung’s hips started rocking back and forth, grinding into your mouth. Your hands stroked what you couldn’t fit, as well as his balls. Your eyes fluttered shut, trying to relax so as to not gag on his length. But when he sped up, it became too much to avoid.

A tap on your shoulder, and Doyoung let you off of his cock. You turned your head to look up at a very flushed Jungwoo, who had pulled his dick out of his pants as well. The words, “Me too?” tumbled out of his swollen lips. And with that gentle, breathy tone, who were you to disobey?

You wrapped your lips around Jungwoo, who hissed at the sudden heat of your mouth. From there, something primal inside of you took control, wanting nothing more than to please—you took turns sucking them off and stroking them, the muffled sounds of their moaning spurring you on.

It was always like this—during sex, Doyoung was the meaner one, manhandling you and throwing degrading words in your face that made your stomach curl in sick pleasure. He was the one who could put you in your place when you became too bratty to handle. Jungwoo was gentler, but he was all too content to watch Doyoung toss you around. He would always swoop in after Doyoung took you apart, and piece you back together. He’d tell you how good you were, how good you made the both of them feel, and while he definitely didn’t treat you like fragile porcelain, he definitely didn’t leave as many bruises as Doyoung did.

And then, when they were both done, they’d shower you in kisses, and whisper in your ear how grateful they were to love you, and say some philosophical thing about eternal love and the cosmos that you’d always be too fucked out to comprehend, but that made your heart do a backflip regardless.

“Shit,” Jungwoo groaned, pulling away from Doyoung’s lips. “Y/N, I’m gonna cum.”

You pulled off of Doyoung to look up at Jungwoo. “In my—in my mouth, please, Woo.”

He nodded, licking his lips as his hands fisted themselves in your hair, gripping but not pulling as he allowed you to touch him the way you wanted. His hands gathered the loose strands into a makeshift ponytail, using it to guide your mouth up and down his hot cock. His hips bucked into your willing mouth, the sound of his hissing and his moaning getting louder and louder, until…

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, Y/N… Y/N!" He groaned, as he came into your mouth. His head tipped back, which gave Doyoung access to his neck, pressing sloppy kisses to the skin. This sight was worth the bitter taste that coated your tongue: one of your lovers in ecstasy while the other anchored him to the ground.

He left his dick in your mouth for a moment, before pulling out with a shaky breath. Doyoung pulled away, letting him breathe. As Jungwoo caught his breath, Doyoung pulled you up, and he sat on the bed, bringing you down with him to straddle his lap.

You turned your head to face Jungwoo, who smiled at you, coming closer to the both of you. One of his hands patted the top of your head. "That was wicked," He said.

Doyoung smiled softly, and gripped your chin to get you to face him. His sweet grin didn't disappear as his grip forced your mouth open. He groaned at the sight of your tongue coated in Jungwoo's semen.

"Gorgeous," He mumbled, eyes trained on your lips as it began to spill out.

"Kiss her," Jungwoo told him, "You know you want to."

So he did, his tongue almost immediately slipping past your lips to get a taste of Jungwoo for himself, swallowing it down greedily. Your hands came up to unbutton his black dress shirt, and his hands pushed up the skirt of your dress to get you to rock your hips against his. You gasped against his mouth at the feeling of only your soaked panties separating him and you, before pushing the shirt off of him.

He moved to lie you down on the bed. As he pulled away from you, you caught his tongue slipping out to lick at a dribble of Jungwoo's cum on his lips. To make matters even worse, the bed was rolling beneath you, making your head spin.

Jungwoo pulled his shirt off before he sat down behind you. Meanwhile, Doyoung moved down your body, parting your legs. He prompted you to sit up, resting your back against his chest. He pressed a kiss to your earlobe as Doyoung peeled your underwear off of you, biting his lip at the sight of your drooling pussy.

"You're absolutely drenched, princess. And all from sucking our cocks, huh?"

You nodded, eyes fluttering shut as Jungwoo's lips began kissing along your jaw. When you didn't say anything, Jungwoo pinched your sides gently. "Use your words, doll," He whispered. From behind you, his eyes met Doyoung's. "You're gonna keep being our good little girl, right?"

"Y-yes, Jungwoo." Your hand lifted itself to press against his cheek, a silent plea for more kisses. He smiled against your skin.

"Atta girl," He praised, "On your best behavior for us tonight, huh?"

"The little slut's just being good because she wants to get fucked, Woo. Don't get it twisted."

"Please, Doie," You pleaded at the mention of being fucked, "Need it."

The older man chuckled lowly, pressing the pad of his thumb to your clit.

"Told you."

His tongue pressed itself against your hole, and you immediately cried out. You would have immediately started grinding against Doyoung's face if it weren't for Jungwoo's hands on your hips, holding you down and keeping it still.

"I don't think you wanna do that," He murmured. His hands travelled underneath your skirt, gripping the silvery blue gossamer as he tried to lift it up. You did your best to keep your squirming at a minimum as you tried to help him get you out of it. Finally, the bell sleeves were pulled off, and you were left naked as the day you were born.

Jungwoo’s hands moved to your breasts, playing with them as he watched you whimper at the sensation of Doyoung’s mouth working at your folds. When he slipped his tongue inside, you keened, head falling against Jungwoo’s shoulder.

“You’re so pretty like this,” He whispered.

Your chest heaved, squirming up and down as he began to tug and pinch your nipples, calloused fingertips making you cry out.

Doyoung’s free hand gripped your thigh, and his fingers on the other hand slipped inside when he pulled his tongue out. Immediately, he plunged in two fingers, curling his fingers as he attempted to search for that one special spot.

"Ngh, Doie, faster, pleasepleaseplease." Your legs were trembling slightly now.

"So fucking slutty," Doyoung mumbled, chuckling wickedly, "And all I had to do was stick my fingers inside."

He complied with no protest, and the sensation of Doyoung stroking your walls and Jungwoo continuously pawing at your breasts caused a string of moans to come pouring out of your mouth. Jungwoo had been sucking a bruise into your clavicle, but leaned up to press his lips against yours.

"Don't want anyone hearing what's meant for Doie and I," He said, lips brushing yours.

The idea made you even needier, the double entendre making your head spin. Jungwoo didn't want anyone to hear you because if they did, rumors would spread. And on top of that? He didn't want anyone to hear. You were theirs. They were yours. This was a sacred ritual between bodies meant to be witnessed by only the three of you.

Your head felt like you were floating, even though your limbs felt like they were sinking into the watery mattress. A coil began to tighten in your stomach, and your soft whines, muffled by Jungwoo's plush lips, increased in pitch.

They both knew what this meant, because a second later, Doyoung removed his fingers from your core, and Jungwoo pulled away, his hands moving from your breasts to rest on Doyoung's atop your hips. You were left reeling and breathing heavily, that familiar sensation floating away.

When you looked down at Doyoung, you swallowed at the sight of his lips, chin and fingers, all glistening with your wetness.

He lifted himself up off the mattress, and proceeded to sandwich your chest in between his own chest and Jungwoo’s back. He gripped his dick, rubbing it against your folds, which were now even more soaked than before.

"Tell me how much you want it, princess." He pressed his forehead against yours, hissing when the tip caught your clit. You let out a desperate whine, clinging to his broad shoulders.

"Do—Doyoung, please fuck me," You begged, reeling at the sensation. He was so close, all he had to do was slide in. But he refused.

"Not good enough," He insisted.

"Doyoung, don't be mean," Jungwoo said, but he seemed to be more amused by your desperation than anything.

"No, I wanna hear how much she needs us."

You closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to gather your words. Jungwoo's hands stroked your sides, trying to calm you down. "You doing alright, doll? You wanna take a breather?"

"We can always stop." Doyoung's voice had turned stable, secure, safe. He started pulling away, until you grabbed him by the forearm and shook your head. You opened your eyes, seeing concern in his eyes

“No,” You mumbled, “Jus’ want some water. Think there’s some in the minibar. ‘M really hot.”

Doyoung nodded, getting up and striding over to the small refrigerator on the other side of the room. He pulled out a water bottle, and popped open the cap before passing it to you. Jungwoo had taken to fanning your face lightly with his hand. You took several long swigs of water, before setting it on the nightstand.

“I’m fine,” You promised. “Can we please keep going? I can take it.”

Doyoung pressed a kiss to your temple. “Are you absolutely sure?”

“Yeah,” You said with a nod.

“Doyoung,” Jungwoo murmured, “Be careful.”

“I know, baby." He lowered his eyes to study your face. "I won’t go that hard on you, Y/N.”

You nodded, even though deep down you wanted to protest. You knew that this was probably the best route to take. You could already feel the high—from the weed and the concert—wearing off. You knew that if Doyoung were too rough you’d probably crash on the way down instead of float.

So, Jungwoo brushed some stray hair out of your sweaty face, and Doyoung grabbed your legs gently, wrapping them around his hips. Slowly, Doyoung eased in, and you sighed in satisfaction of finally being filled. He bit into your shoulder, taking deep heaving breaths as he let you get used to the sensation. Jungwoo took turns pressing kisses to the top of your head and the top of Doyoung’s head.

“I love you both so much,” He whispered, “I’m so grateful the universe brought us together.”

Doyoung looked up at him, pressing a kiss to his lips. “My baby,” He murmured against Jungwoo’s lips. He then turned to you and did the same, “My princess.”

You smiled at their words, but the need in your core was becoming unbearable. "Doie, Woo, I love you both so much," You murmured, "But Doyoung, if you don't move I'll pin you down and do it myself."

"And you were doing so well," Doyoung groaned with a laugh, before beginning to thrust his hips. It was a slow, torturous glide, and the way it caused the bed to rock left you dizzy in the best possible way. Doyoung was panting into your ear like some sort of beast, and you were whining softly with every cant of his hips.

"You must feel so good right now, huh, doll?"

"Jung—woo," You moaned, clawing at his bicep.

"I know, dolly, I know." He sounded sympathetic enough, but the way he was grinding his dick against your ass suggested otherwise. "Bunny boy is just so good with those hips of his, hm?"

"H-he is!" You cried, "Feel so full, ah, Doyoung!"

Doyoung's eyes met yours, and his hips picked up their pace, until your eyes rolled up into your head. Your head thrashed side to side, leaning against Jungwoo's shoulder. His mouth lowered once again to kiss at your neck, and your hand wrapped itself against his nape, while the other gripped Doyoung's shoulders.

Jungwoo's hands slithered down to where you and Doyoung were connected, and started rubbing at your clit. You shrieked, chest arching. Doyoung hissed. "Shit, do that again," He bit out, "Fuck, princess you just got so tight."

"D-Doie, harder!"

Doyoung looked up at Jungwoo, the two having an unspoken conversation. A second later, Jungwoo gave a cautious nod. Doyoung smiled, before he adjusted his legs. Then…

Then. He began pounding into you at a breakneck pace. Your legs tightened around him, wanting him even deeper than before.

"You love this, don't you? Our pretty little slut." His voice was tighter now, panting with exertion. You nodded.

"Yes, yes! I'm your slut!"

Doyoung grinned, before locking lips with you. His tongue dipped into your mouth, before letting you do the same to him. You could tell he was starting to feel something—he always kissed you or Jungwoo as a way of telling you he wouldn't last much longer.

Truthfully, you could feel it coming too—your body felt like it was on fire, and your hips couldn't stop squirming. Whether it was towards Jungwoo's calloused fingers on your clit, Doyoung's cock, or away from both, you couldn't tell. Your moans were getting shriller too.

You clenched down on his length again, and he grit his teeth, grunting as his pace turned sloppy.

"C-c'mon, princey," You pleaded, "Give it to me, give it…"

"Shit, yes…" His head lolled onto your shoulder. "Gonna stuff you so full, princess, you'll be dripping—"

"Please! Oh, please—"

The two of you fell apart almost at the same time, your orgasm triggering Doyoung's a second later. Your mouth fell open, legs trembling and heart pounding as waves crashed over and under you.

When you came down, Doyoung rolled off of you, turning onto his side to watch you and Jungwoo. Jungwoo, who ceased the movements of his hands and slowly laid you down. Your head landed against the pillows, and you let your eyes shut as you caught your breath.

"Can I take care of you one last time, doll?" You heard Jungwoo say. Your eyes opened blearily, and you reached a hand out towards him, legs parting of their own accord.

Both of your lovers groaned at the sight of your pussy, Doyoung's cum brimming from your folds.

"Absolute perfection," Jungwoo murmured, crawling between your legs. He gripped his dick with one hand, the other swiping through your folds, and you immediately whined at the sensitivity there, teetering the fine line between pleasure and pain.

"Please," You whimpered, "Woo, I want it."

"You're insatiable." He sounded so affectionate, so in love. You watched as his eyes studied his index and middle fingers, covered in a mix of Doyoung's cum and yours, before dipping them into his mouth to lick them clean. You sighed, a dopey smile gracing your features. He lowered himself down to brush noses with you, dark eyes blown wide, wide awake despite the dark circles underneath.

"Guess I'll just have to do something about that."

He slid in as if he was coming home, immediately setting a solid pace that had you seeing stars, arms wrapping around his shoulders to lock hands at his nape. The sensitivity left you pliant in his arms, and Jungwoo didn't hesitate in cradling you in his arms.

"So good for us, Y/N. Always Doie and I's sweet girl."

You nodded, tears brimming at your eyes at the heaviness in your chest, the pulsing in your core. His hair was falling into his eyes, and you lifted your hands to his face, doing your best to brush it away. Your hands cupped his cheeks, heavy eyes burning into his. Your hips were rutting against his desperately now, wanting nothing more than to feel that high with him.

Jungwoo pressed a brief kiss to your neck, feeling something simmer in his gut embarrassingly fast.

Doyoung placed his head next to yours, gently lifting Jungwoo's head to kiss him, hand brushing the other man's ass. When he pulled away, he kissed you as well, and Jungwoo's mouth pressed itself to one of your nipples. You keened against Doyoung's mouth, hips losing all semblance of grace.

Here, you were needy, animalistic, running on instincts, and your boys were drinking it up like water from a desert oasis.

Doyoung pulled away, a thin trail of spit connecting his lips to yours. His hands cradled your head.

"Can you feel it yet, princess?"

Your eyebrows furrowed, silent moans falling from your lips. "Ah, yeah, Doie… s-so close…"

"Me too," Jungwoo groaned between your breasts, "So wet, Y/N…"

"That's from all the cum she's filled with, right, princess?"

You nodded. "Mm—ngh! Stuffed me so good, Doie."

"Yeah? You gonna let Jungwoo fill you up even more? Gonna keep it all inside, right?"

Your stomach did a backflip, and you felt your toes curl. "Yes, yes, yes, yes, I want it—"

"I'll give it to you, doll," Jungwoo growled, "It's all—fuck—all yours. S-same way this is all for us, right?"

Those words were what caused you to finally fall over the edge. Your high was so intense that you could have sworn that your ears popped—clawing at Jungwoo’s shoulders, your eyes squeezed shut. Only one side ended up scratched, since you always kept your right hand nails short to properly play guitar. You sobbed against Doyoung’s lips, and he eagerly swallowed up your cries, shushing you gently as you came back down.

You didn't feel Jungwoo come inside, but you felt it immediately afterwards—the satisfying stickiness, the warmth in your stomach.

You looked at Jungwoo, pressing a soft kiss to his sweaty forehead before prompting him to move off. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you towards him as his little spoon, peppering kisses to your cheek and whispering how good you were. The two of you looked at Doyoung. You reached out, making grabby hands at him. His eyes were drooping, and he was blinking blearily as if he were trying to fight off sleep.

Still, he got up and pulled his pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket, as well as his lighter. As he sat back down on the bed, the waves sent you and Jungwoo further and further into the recesses of slumber. As consciousness left you, you caught Doyoung looking down at the two of you as if you were the most precious beings he'd ever encountered. His tone was low and grumbly, but there was a glint of smug satisfaction in his eye.

"I hope you two are happy. I can't remember those goddamn lyrics anymore."

#kwritersworldnet #nct smut #doyoung x reader #jungwoo x reader #doyoung smut #jungwoo smut #kpop smut #kpop au #nct scenarios #nct 127 smut #nct 127 x reader #nct x reader #nct fluff #my writing

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kamoniwa · 4 years ago

Text

⟼ a little madness

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢ pairing: yokai!kuroo/demon!akaashi/human!reader/werewolf!semi

⇢ au: college!au

⇢ summary: you, your friends, and some friends of your friends all get tricked by one tendou satori into visiting an abandoned amusement park for halloween. it turns out it isn’t ghosts you need to worry about, though.

⇥ kinktober masterlist

⇢ warnings: gangbang, noncon to consensual, lots of reluctance, mind break if you squint?, technical temperature play, unprotected sex, creampie, the boys are real gentle in breaking you down

⇢ word count: 11,695

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢ a/n: don’t really think noncon is my forte but practice makes perfect. is the pairing self-indulgent? fat yes. does this fic make total sense? not really sure. did i have fun writing it? hell yeah. also big thank you to @ishuzoku for helping me come up with the flyer bc my og id was garbage lmao.

Furrowing your brows, you looked at Tendo with a mix of exasperation and unadulterated dismay.

“An abandoned amusement park. On Halloween?” Kaori asked before you could, eyebrows disappearing into her bangs. “You cannot be serious, Tendo.”

If he was put off by your reactions, he didn’t show it. If anything, he was probably relishing in it, and said, “Yes, yes I am. It’ll be fun. Come on, do you really just wanna get drunk at a boring house party on Halloween?”

You snorted at that, stirring your coffee as you said, “As opposed to getting murdered at an amusement park? That’s like, straight out of a horror movie, Tendo.”

“You guys are so boring,” he whined, slumping forward across the table. Shirabu grumbled under his breath, glaring at Tendo as he nudged his drink closer to Shirabu’s textbook. “Look, it’ll be so cool! Exploring all the abandoned funhouses and imagine how freaky the haunted houses will be! Just think about it, okay?”

The looks everyone exchanged said they had and had already made up their minds, but you nodded anyway, if for no other reason than to appease him.

A moment later, your alarm went off and you bid them goodbye, walking towards the door with Shirabu for your next lecture. You were sure as shit not going to an abandoned anything this weekend.

Except somehow, against all odds, you were piled up in the back of Konoha’s car, crammed beside someone who had been introduced to you as Akaashi Keiji. He was a friend of Bokuto’s and Konoha’s and, upon hearing about your adventure, asked if he could tag along. If you had to peg him, he was more the librarian type than a ghost hunter type-- soft spoken and well mannered with pretty blue eyes that closed slightly when he smiled.

In the front seat were Konoha-- driving-- and Yachi, currently fighting with the radio and Konoha’s phone.

In the car behind you was someone named Kuroo-- also a friend of Bokuto and Akaashi-- Kaori, Goshiki, and Semi-- a friend of Shirabu, Goshiki, and Tendo. Kuroo was almost ecstatic to be going, but Semi had seemed like he would rather be doing anything else as he climbed into the passenger seat of Kuroo’s car.

The car in front contained Tendo, Bokuto, Yukie, and-- god bless him-- Shirabu. You were sure he was losing his mind as Tendo guided him towards the location of the amusement park. The details on how exactly this had come about were lost on you, but you vaguely recalled a drunken bet made two nights ago and a video that Tendo refused to share properly, but assured you was proof that the group had agreed to the terms of said bet and then lost. Spectacularly. Supposedly.

“So, how did you meet everyone?” Akaashi asked, turning to look at you. The scenery outside was turning quickly from civilization to wilderness, the trees growing thicker the further you drove until you couldn’t tell one trunk from the next.

Humming, you rested your chin in your hand, bracing your elbow on the door. This was the worst part of meeting someone new during a trip-- tedious small talk. But you had to start somewhere, so you said, “I met Kaori in one of our classes and ‘Toka-- er, Yachi--” The girl turned around at the sound of her name and waved. “-- is my roommate. They kind of introduced me to everyone else.”

Truth be told, you weren’t sure how they had become your core group of friends. From loud and boisterous Bokuto to sullen and taciturn Shirabu, you adored all of them, but you had had your own group of friends before meeting them. Most of those old friends had faded from sight as you found yourself absorbed in your new ones and, while a part of you felt bad, it was just a part of life.

“What about you?” you asked, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. “How do you know them?”

Konoha snickered from the front seat and Akaashi cut him a glare before turning back to you. “I’ve been friends with Konoha, Bo, and Tetsuro since highschool. Kaori and Yukie were our managers,” he said.

Konoha made a turn onto a road who’s name sign had long since fallen off the rusty pole, and you wondered just how far out you had traveled. It didn’t feel like it had been long since you left, but you recognized nothing around you and there was no sign of life.

“So, everyone but ‘Toka and I were friends in highschool, huh?” You chuckled. “What are the odds?”

Akaashi laughed with you, fiddling with his fingers as he turned back to look out his window.

The car was now filled with the sound of music, overtaking the silence that fell between the four of you. Konoha was focused on driving and you knew Yachi was more than a little nervous-- you had almost expected her to back out and accept whatever payback Tendo had planned for it afterwards.

“Do any of you guys know anything about this place?” you asked, leaning forward and resting your chin on Yachi’s seat. Through the windshield, you could see Tendo’s shaved head and Bokuto’s spiky locks in the backseat, and worried for poor Shirabu’s sanity. “How did Tendo even know this place existed?”

“It’s an old legend,” Akaashi spoke up softly.

Both you and Yachi turned to look at him, the latter’s breath hitching because everyone knew when those words were said, the story was going to be unpleasant.

Konoha cursed as he hit a pothole, muttering Tendo’s name under his breath as he righted the car between the faded lane lines, and Akaashi smiled at that before looking back to you.

“I doubt most people have heard of it,” he began, popping his knuckles one at a time. “It’s more of a local thing, really.”

“Well then how do you know about it?” you asked curiously, quirking a brow. You knew Bokuto grew up in Tokyo, which meant Akaashi had as well, and you were well outside of the city limits.

Akaashi smiled, tipping his head to the side and for the first time there was something other than soft indifference in it. “I enjoy these types of places and legends. It’s a hobby, you might say. This particular amusement park was meant to be scary in nature and didn’t stay open for long due to unexplained deaths and disappearances.”

Yachi squeaked, and you cast her a glance before resting your hand on her shoulder. This was probably not the best story for someone as easily scared as she was, but it was too late now, and you knew there was curiosity beneath the fear.

“That sounds way too vague,” you said, lips curling up at the corners. “That’s what everyone says about places like this. It’s not scary.”

Your skepticism was met with laughter and he said, “True. The police at the time pinned the problems on faulty attractions or poor background checks, saying there must have been a serial killer hired without anyone realizing. Sounds to me like they just couldn’t figure out what was causing it.”

You rolled your eyes, nodding along. If the park was as old as Tendo said, it could really have been faulty attractions, but you weren’t buying the serial killer story. It sounded too far-fetched compared to being crushed by an unstable support beam.

Akaashi continued, voice dropping in what might have been a scary attempt at atmosphere if the sun wasn’t framing his pretty features in a golden glow behind him. “The locals all said that the place was haunted, too many deaths had built up negative energy, trapping the spirits of those killed there. Unable to escape, they grew angry and the deaths continued until authorities labeled the park unsafe and banned any more visitors. And then--”

“What the hell?” Konoha cut him off, hitting the brakes a little harder than necessary.

Akaashi’s seat belt locked and he grunted, rubbing at the new red mark on his neck as he asked, “What’s going on?”

“Dunno,” Konoha replied, putting the car in park. “Sorry about that. Shirabu is getting out of the car.”

The car behind you pulled up as you were getting out, eyes wide as you watched Tendo lay a map out on the trunk of Shirabu’s car.

“We’re lost,” you said, sighing in exasperation.

A tall figure blocked out the sun in front of you and you squinted up into the face of Kuroo. He was giving you a catlike grin, ruffling his messy rooster hair as he said, “Sure seems that way, princess. This place is in the middle of nowhere. I’ll be surprised if we even find it.” He guided you over to the car where the others were gathered, snickering at the look of surprise on your face. “What?”

“You know about this place too?” you asked, glancing at Akaashi on the other side of the car. He cast you a small, closed eyed smile. “Akaashi was telling us about it in the car.”

Kuroo chuckled, raising a brow at his friend. “Yeah, being friends with Akaashi has its share of hazards.”

“Look, I’m pretty sure we’re here,” Tendo said, interrupting your conversation. He was pointing to a small line that looked just like any other on the map, aside from the major roadways and cities. If he was right, you were a decent ways out of the city and your watch read 1:01pm. “If we just follow this road and then this one, it’ll lead us straight past the village and to the park.”

Shirabu looked skeptical, spinning the map around to look at it as well. He wasn’t exactly wrong but how could he really tell? All the smaller roads looked the same and they couldn’t even confirm the name of the road because there was no sign. It had also been ages since they last saw a house or even another car, so asking anyone was out of the question too.

“This is stupid,” he sighed, running his fingers through his hair. No one besides Tendo really wanted to be there-- he ignored the fact that Kuroo was just as excited as his weirdo friend to be going and that Akaashi had jumped at the opportunity as well-- and it would be so much easier to just turn around and go to Hinata’s party. “We should just go home before we get lost.”

Tendo frowned at that, sharing a look with Kuroo before saying, “We aren’t lost*. It’s not much further now. Just trust me.”

The others were all inclined to agree with Shirabu, you included, but arguing with Tendo was like arguing with a brick wall-- pointless. He had already tricked you into agreeing to this endeavor and at this point backing out would be both a waste of time and gas. Shirabu was too smart to get lost anyway but, if you were lucky, Tendo was wrong and you wouldn’t be able to find the place at all.

“Do you really think we’ll be able to find it?” Yachi asked once you were safely back in the car.

Akaashi hummed beside you, but you said, “God I hope not. I was looking forward to Hinata’s party and if we get back quick enough we might still make it.”

Konoha looked at you in the rearview, eyes crinkled as he snickered. “What, are you scared, _____? Afraid the ghosts are gonna get ya?”

Scoffing, you dug through your bag for your phone. A check an hour ago had revealed one bar, but now the words ‘No Service’ blazed across the service banner. “No, I’m not scared. There are just a thousand better things to be doing that than breaking my neck on rusty amusement park rides.”

“Sounds like cowardice to me,” he answered, laughing at you through the mirror.

Sticking your tongue out at him, you turned back to the window, sighing as the scenery passed by in a blur. Konoha and Akaashi talked a lot about volleyball, Yachi pitching in occasionally. You knew she had managed her highschool volleyball team and knew everyone else in the group to some degree, but most everything sports related went over your head.

Still, Akaashi made some effort to get to know you, asking about highschool and what classes you were taking. You told him about your major and asked what his was, finding out he was a literature major and constantly busy, explaining why you had never met him before. He, Kuroo, and Semi were the busiest out of all their friends, often skipping out on get togethers in order to study, work, or-- in Semi’s case-- practice with his band.

A little while later, while Yachi and Konoha were having a heated discussion about their favorite subjects, you caught the first glimpse of something besides trees. Turning to look out the windshield, you saw brake lights already lighting up and the car began to slow.

“Well, we found the village, at least,” Tendo said, reading the faded sign displaying the name of the town. “I didn’t expect it to be abandoned too, though.”

Everyone was gathered in the middle of the road, looking down the mainstreet of the village. Windows were busted out and boarded up, paint faded on rotten clapboards, and roofs missing tiles or riddled with holes. The street was littered with potholes and the whole town had an eerie sense of unnatural quiet. Everyone shifted on their heels, slowly making their way back towards the cars without a word and piling in.

Even Tendo looked unnerved.

The town disappeared behind you but in the distance you could see the towering track of a roller coaster above the treeline. Even from so far away you could see that the paint was faded off of it, the sun filtering through clouds and casting the whole area in shades of grey. To you, it seemed like the forest was darker, the trees packed more closely together, and your heart began to thump in your chest.

“You okay?” Akaashi’s gentle voice asked in your ear. His hand landed on your shoulder, colder than expected, and you shivered underneath his touch. “You look like you’ve already seen a ghost.”

You nodded, looking over to find him giving you a look of amused concern, one corner of his mouth turned up in a half smile. “Just nervous. That town was creepy as hell and it freaked me out a little.”

“Me too!” Yachi squeaked from the front seat, turning around to give you a pleading look. “Don’t you dare leave me, _____.”

Laughter filled the car then and you patted Yachi on the shoulder. “Wouldn’t dream of it, ‘Toka.”

The towering sign for the park appeared up ahead and the car fell silent all over again as brake lights lit up again. Broken glass and gravel littered the parking lot, which was smaller than expected for how big the park looked.

Everyone seemed to hesitate on getting out of the cars. Tendo was the first, followed by Kuroo, and then Akaashi. Like it was a signal, the rest of you followed, Yachi clinging onto your hand and Kuroo and Akaashi seeming to stand behind you protectively, close enough that you could feel warmth radiating off them.

“Do we really have to go in there?” Goshiki asked, eyeing the ticket booth with disdain. The paint on it, like everything else, was faded, the wood rotten and the window and door busted out. The latter creaked on its hinges, filling the still air with an unsettling noise that mixed with the faint sounds of creaking metal and leaves fluttering in the wind.

Everyone shuffled back towards the cars a little at his question, but Tendo took a step forward, resting his hand on the turnstile. “Since we’re actually here, may as well take a look around.”

Without another moment of hesitation, he hopped over it, peering around with an unusually quiet interest. It was the first time since you had met Tendo that he had nothing to say, his already pale face seemingly devoid of color, making his vibrant, sleepy eyes pop out even more.

Groaning, you, Shirabu, and Goshiki stepped forward, dragging Yachi with you as you climbed over the turnstile as well. You couldn’t just let Tendo wander off into the dangerous park alone. The others followed suit, muffled whispers and conversations floating through the air as they spread out in the area.

The forest had started taking back over through the concrete, weeds and grass sprouting up through the cracks and pushing the cobblestones up and out of place. Vines of ivy and moss hung from the powerpoles, vendor booths, and some attractions further back, swaying in the gentle breeze. The buildings were dark inside, but through the gloom you could make out mannequins and shelves devoid of merchandise.

The bell dinged on the first one Tendo pushed open-- a souvenir shop. It was empty except for dust and garbage, as were the next few you entered.

Slowly but surely the group made their way further into the park, Yachi clinging onto you the whole time. Akaashi and Kuroo were right behind the two of you, Shirabu and Semi in front, forming a kind of guard while Tendo and Bokuto led the way. Kaori clung to Goshiki, who looked like he was putting on a brave front despite his pink cheeks and the nervousness in his eyes.

For all his grumbling, Shirabu looked interested as he eyed all the buildings and machinery. It was quiet, devoid even of the sound of birdsong or humming bugs, and it unsettled you.

“Oh look, it’s the pirate ship ride!” Bokuto yelled suddenly, breaking the deathly silence.

Everyone jumped, Shirabu hissing at him to shut up while Yukie shrieked, latching onto him. Bokuto had the decency to look abashed but still steered the group towards the derelict platform, testing his weight on the creaky metal stairs on his way up.

The deck of the ship was littered with leaves and dust, the seats worn down and showing stuffing and springs after however many years left in the element. There were signs of rust on the metal and the whole thing shifted slightly to emit a creak.

“Um, Bo, I don’t think that’s safe,” Kuroo called out, grabbing your arm to stop you from following up behind him.

Tendo and Goshiki were up beside him, examining the boat itself and, before anyone knew it, the former had hopped into it.

“Tendo!” Shirabu called, a trace of panic in his voice. His fingers were wrapped around the railing, paint flakes coming away under his touch hand as he prepared to spring up the stairs, but everyone’s eyes were locked on Tendo’s precarious creep down the middle aisle. “Get out of there before you get hurt, idiot!”

“It’s fine, Shirabu,” he called, now standing at the bow. “It’s kinda cool actually. I can see more of the park from here.”

Bokuto landed with a thump a moment later, a louder creak ringing out than when lanky Tendo had landed, and everyone took a collective breath and held it.

But as before, it held, and he joined Tendo up by the bow.

“Wow, he’s right!” he called, holding his hand above his eyes like a visor and peering out over the park. It was certainly bigger than he imagined for being in the middle of nowhere. “There’s a house over that way!”

“Probably the haunted house,” Tendo said, straining to see what Bokuto was looking at. In the distance were two stilted, twisted steeples painted in different hues. One was flamboyant and bright, the other dark and dreary, even compared to the state of disrepair of the rest of the park. “I see a funhouse too, I think. Looks pretty freaky. Wanna check ‘em out?”

“Hell yeah,” Bokuto shouted, whipping around to look at the rest of you.

Shirabu looked ready to blow a gasket, and Yachi looked ready to faint, but everyone else looked intrigued. Even you couldn’t help but be a little curious about it, having free range to explore the most interesting rides in the park. Wasn’t it everyone’s dream to be able to see what they were like without restraint?

The sun was just beginning to fade behind the treeline, turning the clouds a thin shade of orange, but the lure of seeing something interesting had dissolved any real fear.

The two men met Goshiki on the platform and made their way back down to the rest of the group, eyes shining bright with the promise of adventure.

“I told you it wouldn’t be so bad!” Tendo said as if the stunt he just pulled hadn’t taken years off all your lives. Jumping haphazardly onto a decade old, rusted out death trap attraction at an abandoned amusement park hours from the nearest hospital wasn’t going to earn him any genius awards.

On the way towards the supposed attractions, you came across the carousel. Its metal panels were tarnished, the paint worn away from them and the animals, the mirrors grimy with dirt. Vines and ivy climbed up everywhere. The platform shifted when Kuroo stepped onto it, Tendo hot on his heels followed closely by Bokuto.

“Let’s go see, ‘Toka,” you said, tugging her forward by the hand. Kaori took your other one, squeezing, while Akaashi guided you with a gentle hand on your back.

“Look at this,” someone said, and you turned to find Semi holding a faded paper. “It looks like a poster claiming someone was kidnapping people.”

“How the hell is it still here?” Konoha asked, peering at it around Semi’s arm. “It should have disintegrated a long damn time ago.”

“Dunno,” Semi said with a frown. Trying to see the paper, you were crowded against Semi by Yachi and Kaori and flinched when you realized how hot he was. “It was wedged in the frame of the mirror.”

The whole thing was faded but still legible, due presumably to being tucked into the mirror, and appeared to be a flyer issued by the park itself.

Due to the recent disappearances, park security has been tightened. Please stay aware of your surroundings and report and suspicious activity immediately.

“You were right, Akaashi,” you said, glancing up at the man standing behind you. “They really did think someone was kidnapping people.”

“A lot of the people were never found,” Semi said, folding the sheet up neatly and tucking into his pocket. “It’s not surprising they thought that.”

“Ohhhh, maybe the bodies are still here,” Tendo said, wiggling his fingers over Konoha’s shoulders. “Maybe it was actually the workers kidnapping people and they kept the bodies in a secret place.”

“Like where?” Shirabu asked, giving him an exasperated, skeptical look. It was getting late and they were wasting time just hanging around. He wasn’t particularly thrilled at the idea of being in the park after dark, going to possibly the scariest attraction in the place, but if they were going to do it, they needed to just get it done. “The authorities probably tore this place apart looking for them.”

Tendo shrugged, looking thoughtful. “Maybe they hid them in the haunted house. Maybe there’s a hidden room somewhere that only the workers knew how to open.”

“Could you not?” Yukie asked, slapping Tendo on the arm. “We’re going there, in case you forgot, pea brain. Way to freak us out.”

Yachi was clinging onto Kaori now, staring at Tendo with wide, frightened eyes and he almost looked repentant.

“Or, you know, could be anywhere. The haunted house would be a pretty obvious place to hide it, wouldn’t it?” he said, rubbing the back of his head. Beckoning to Yachi, she went reluctantly, letting Tendo tuck her under his arm. “Don’t worry, Yach. I’ll protect you, ‘kay?”

You and Kaori snickered at the shade of red her face turned, and Shirabu sighed.

“Can we just get going before it gets too late?” he asked, turning and leading the way down the path. The shadows were slowly lengthening, orange mixing with shades of pink and purple in the sky.

Semi fell into step beside you, Yukie on your other side. Goshiki and Konoha were having a conversation about the derelict rollercoaster to the right, and you allowed your attention to drift to it. It was eerie, the faded paint and rusted metal tracks looming like a foreboding beacon above you. Staring the way you were, your foot caught a displaced cobblestone and you went sprawling with a yelp.

Before you could smack the ground, a strong, warm hand wrapped around your upper arm and hauled you back up. It hurt, causing a sharp ache in your shoulder, but it still hurt less than the concrete probably would have. Looking up at your savior, you gave him a half smile.

“Thanks, Semi,” you said, rubbing your shoulder.

But he was frowning at you-- not that that was any different than the look he’d worn all day-- but this one was marred by soft concern. “Are you alright? You’re awfully cold.”

“O-Oh. No, I’m fine. Just got distracted by the coaster,” you said, giggling in embarrassment. “It is a bit chilly though, now that you mention it. I didn’t notice.”

There was a moment's hesitation, then the sound of a zipper being drawn down. A weight settled across your shoulders, surrounding you with an unfamiliar cologne, and your cheeks heated up at the realization that he had given you his jacket.

“That’s okay, Semi, really,” you said, shrugging the jacket off. “It isn’t that bad, and it’s my own fault. I left mine in the car.”

“No worries, _____,” he said, and for the first time you could see a small smile on his face in the dim light. “I’m not cold, so you can take it.”

“Well, thanks, I guess,” you said, pulling it back around your shoulders. It was warm and you smiled when you caught him looking at you. He was wearing a peculiar look, kind but almost possessive, and he licked his lips once before looking forward again.

You shivered, unsure if you were just seeing things. The park had rattled your nerves and Semi was just being nice. You didn’t know him well enough to make a judgement call like that and forced down the uneasiness, taking your place beside him again.

“Smooth move, klutz,” Konoha quipped, nudging your back. Goshiki and Shirabu snickered and you flipped them off over your shoulder, looping your other arm with Yukie.

The steepled spires of the haunted house came into view, beside which stood the funhouse, like Tendo said. Both looked terrifying in the dying light of the sun. Like everything else, the paint was almost gone, shingles missing from the roofs which were adorned with holes.

Without thinking, you reached out and grabbed Semi’s arm, pressing yourself to it. He glanced at you for a moment, a soft smile flitting across his face before looking at Tendo, who was staring between the two buildings.

“I wanna go in the funhouse,” Tendo said, turning back to the rest of the group. Setting his hands on his hips, he looked around at everyone. “Should we go as a group?” Kuroo shifted, pointing his feet towards the haunted house. “I kinda wanna go in there, actually.”

“Well no one should go anywhere alone,” Shirabu said firmly, and everyone nodded in agreement. If someone got hurt, no one would know for ages and then there was the long ride back on top of it.

“So we’ll split up. Everyone pick a house,” Tendo said, clapping his hands.

Yukie’s arm around yours disappeared and she scurried over to Tendo, looking at you apologetically. Yachi took her place instead, looking for all the world like she was going to collapse from fright, and you gave her a concerned look.

“I’m going wherever you go,” she said, and you raised a brow.

Before you could answer, Kuroo’s arm slung around your shoulders, looming over Yachi’s tiny form. “It looks like everyone’s decided. Pretty even split. Let’s meet back here in--” He checked his watch. “Two hours? That should be enough time to see everything.”

You opened your mouth to object, but Tendo nodded while Shirabu set the timer on his watch. “Everyone be careful, please. We really can’t afford any injuries.”

Yachi looked up at the dark house looming before you while the other group made their way towards the funhouse.

You could hear Tendo’s voice echo back, saying, “That’s the reason we have you here, Shirabu. You’re a doctor and all.”

Shirabu said something in return, but it was lost in the distance as you were herded towards the haunted house. The doors hung open, swinging in the breeze and creaking. It seemed like the house sucked all the warmth from the air the closer you got to it, and you squeezed Semi’s arm in yours.

“Scared, princess?” Kuroo whispered in your ear, raising the hairs on the back of your neck when his warm breath met your cold skin. “You shouldn’t be. We’re here with you.”

The steps leading into it sagged beneath your weight, the wood softer than it should’ve been and it came as no surprise when one broke beneath Semi’s weight. He cursed while you and Yachi pulled back, keeping him from falling over and potentially hurting himself. It took Akaashi and Kuroo both to pull him up out of the hole and a quick check revealed his jeans had protected his leg.

“Are you alright?” you whispered, looking up into Semi’s unamused face. He was wearing a hard scowl, his grip on you iron clad now as he guided you up the steps.

“Sure,” he said, eyes softening when he looked down at you. “Just annoyed.”

Inside, the light from your phones seemed to be swallowed by the darkness. The dust was thick and the air musty and humid. Cobwebs hung from everything, casting long shadows into the darkness beyond the halo of your flashlights.

Yachi yelped, tripping over a rotted track board and would have dragged you down if you weren’t holding onto Semi so tightly. His heat was almost a comfort now, driving away the persistent chill that seemed to emanate from the ramshackle walls. You couldn’t tell where the fabricated deterioration ended and true rot began.

“This way then?” Akaashi asked, leading the way into the first door. It was the kitchen area, set up to look like a butcher shop. A thick layer of dust settled over everything, motes flurrying through the painfully white light from your phones in an eerie dance that made it even harder to see.

Old props lay on the worn countertops, splotches of what was likely-- hopefully-- fake blood a dark black on the faded wood and laminate. Someone had a hand on your back while Akaashi examined a chain hanging from the ceiling, something hanging from the end of it. It made a strange noise when he pushed it, a crackly, grinding noise like it was rusty. It wouldn’t be a surprise, with the humidity as high as it is.

“That’s a little unsettling,” Kuroo admitted, and you all jumped when a loud crash rang out somewhere further down.

“Now would be the time to leave if we were in a horror movie,” you hinted through gritted teeth, even as Kuroo stepped back out into the hall. He scanned the darkness, his phone hanging by his side, the light pointed towards the floor. “What do you expect to see anyway, genius?”

He turned back to wink before disappearing into the dark and you groaned, straining your eyes to see anything. His light was lost in the gloom and you released Yachi’s arm, taking a step forward. Semi allowed himself to be dragged along with you while Goshiki held Yachi, petting her hair as she whimpered.

Swearing, you and Semi trudged down the hallway, listening for any noises but heard nothing besides the sounds of an old building settling. Your voice caught in your throat when you opened your mouth to call for Kuroo, your ire failing in the face of the oppressive darkness in the heart of the house. Swiping a cobweb off your face, you shined your phone around, lighting up a destroyed living room area, two hallways, and a staircase.

“You don’t think he went upstairs, do you?” Semi whispered, following your line of sight.

Swallowing, you said, “God I fuckin’ hope not. This is so creepy, can’t we just leave him?”

He chuckled against his will, a quiet, rough noise as he tried to stifle it. “‘Fraid not. I don’t wanna deal with the cops.”

Heaving a sigh, you pointed the light down to the floor and found no sign of footprints in the thick dust. Flashing it behind you, you saw your own and Semi’s clearly visible and frowned. “Hey, look.”

Semi scoured the floor, waving his light all around you. “He definitely came this way.”

Nodding, you pointed the light back in front of you, down the hallway, but it was unable to break more than a few inches of darkness. “Okay, now I’m really freaked out. Where is he?”

New light joined your meager one, shuffling footsteps coming to a stop just behind you.

Akaashi’s hand landed on your shoulder, peering over your head at where you were staring.

“This way,” Semi said after a moment of silence. It was broken only by Yachi’s occasional sniffle and you wondered if you shouldn’t just return to the front door and let Semi and Akaashi handle the rescue. But gentle pressure on your arm and shoulder guided you down, sniffling at the dust before you broke out into a sneeze.

The floor creaked beneath your feet, making the already eerie feeling worse as you crept down the hall. There were faded, torn paintings lining the walls, a few false doors, and windows painted black and boarded up. You couldn’t tell if the paint peeling up the walls was due to age or intent, but it certainly didn’t help settle your unease.

“Careful,” Semi said suddenly, jerking you sideways into him. The cold hand slid off your shoulder and a light revealed a hole in the middle of the floor, where you had been about to step.

“Thanks,” you breathed, swallowing harshly. The dust was starting to sting your eyes and you repressed another sneeze, rubbing your nose.

Skirting around the hole, it opened into another room, what appeared to be a library. Overstuffed armchairs littered the room, the shelves lining the walls stacked with what were likely fake books. There was no sign of Kuroo, but Semi led you further into the room carefully.

He wasn’t careful enough, though.

Once second you were clinging to him, the next you heard a crack and then you were experiencing the most curious sensation. Your stomach swooped as the light disappeared, and you realized belatedly that you were falling. Something warm, almost scalding wrapped around you, and your fall stopped short with a grunt of impact.

You lay there stunned for several long moments, head spinning and heart beating hard enough that you could feel it in your ears. The dark was only furthering your disorientation and you only realized you were laying on something when it moved beneath you.

Sitting up, you felt something slump over your shoulders before coughing filled your ears.

“Semi?” you whispered hoarsely. Above you, you registered screaming and looked up only to be blinded by light.

Semi grunted behind you but didn’t move, breathing heavy against your back. From above, you could hear muted conversation before the shrieking stopped.

“_____, Semi, are you both okay?” Akaashi’s concerned voice reached your ringing ears, and you nodded in response.

It took you a moment to realize he probably couldn’t see you, calling up, “Yeah, I think so. Semi--”

“‘M fine,” he yelled, though he sounded winded.

“Are you sure?” you asked, wrapping a hand around the wrist dangling in front of you. A few feet away lay your phone, face down, the light muted but visible, and you sighed in relief. “You caught me, are you sure*?”

Semi chuckled, a rough noise. “Yeah, I’m sure. Trust me.”

“You guys stay there,” Akaashi commanded, then turned back to Goshiki and Yachi to say something. “I’ll find a way down to you.”

He disappeared and you scrambled forward, snatching your phone up. Moving back to the relative safety of Semi’s presence, you shined it around.

The basement, you decided upon seeing the array of monster props and torture machines, was perhaps the most terrifying part of the house. It was only heightened by your adrenaline rush, the shadows seeming to jump out to your paranoid mind.

As the adrenaline wore off, you took stock of your extremities. Semi really had cushioned you-- nothing hurt-- and you turned to face him.

In the light, he really did look fine, even his breathing had evened out, and he looked back at you with a smirk. “Told you. I’m tougher than you think.”

“I’m beginning to realize that,” you admitted, getting to your feet. You didn’t let Semi get far, linking your arm with his and clinging to him, much to his amusement.

His eyes adjusted to the dark faster than yours and he located his phone near the base of a rusty filing cabinet. The screen was cracked-- which he cursed-- but it still worked, and he turned the flashlight back on.

“This is creepy as fuck,” he muttered, thumping the model of a skeletal doctor to see the dust swirl. There was a medical table in the center of the room with a light looming over it. He assumed there was supposed to be a body laying on said table and, in the dark, it was a scary thought that it was no longer there. “I hope Akaashi hurries up. I don’t like it here.”

You couldn’t stifle the small giggle, though you covered your mouth in a poor attempt. It was the nerves, you were sure, because as he moved away you held tighter, stumbling after him. He tried one door, the handle stiff enough that you recognized it to be fake. There was a set of metal double doors on the other side of the room and those swung open with an eerie grinding noise, scraping across the concrete floor.

The hallways extended to either direction, cells lining the wall in front of you and you shuddered. “Let’s go, Semi, please,” you begged, tugging him down to the left. It was the same direction that you had come from on the floor above and hoped that it would lead you to a staircase or something*.

Semi went along reluctantly, flashing his light in all the cells you passed. Most were empty, besides the occasional bed or other prop. Some contained chains mounted in the wall and his eyes flashed to you.

The hallway opened up into what may have been a waiting room if most of the furniture hadn’t been utterly destroyed. As you scanned the area, there was a noise from up ahead and you jerked to a stop, scurrying back to Semi’s side. Peeking around him while he stared down the hall, you kept a tight grip on his arm, feeling the muscles flex and tense beneath your hand. A shadow moved in the light and you nearly screamed as Kuroo stepped into view, followed closely by Akaashi.

Neither carried a light and your heart leapt in your throat when you caught a momentary flash of light reflecting off of Kuroo’s eyes before it disappeared.

Still hiding behind Semi, the four of you regarded each other in silence for a moment, before Kuroo chuckled.

“Well, this is certainly convenient, though I didn’t expect you to get involved,” he said, leaning sideways against the wall. He looked as relaxed as usual while Akaashi lurked behind him, staring at you peeking around Semi’s arm.

He held out a hand to you but you held back, suddenly unsure of Kuroo’s words. With your heart in your throat, you looked up into Semi’s relaxed, impassive face. He made no moves, just watched the other two linger in front of your only escape route.

Then he shrugged.

“Dumb luck.”

The men burst into laughter and you squeaked, taking a step back from Semi. Before you could get anywhere, his hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you forward.

“Easy, kitten. We don’t wanna hurt you,” Kuroo said, stepping further into the room. His eyes lit up once again in the light from your flashlight, mischievous brown turning solid gold. His pupils narrowed and elongated, his smile seeming to become more sharp as he stared down at you.

You breathed in sharply, taking a step back into Semi’s chest. Regardless of whether he was in on whatever they had planned, he was the safest option as opposed to whatever the hell Kuroo was.

The grip on your wrist loosened but came to your shoulders instead, keeping you in place with a warning squeeze. You had already guessed he was tough, given he had taken the full brunt of the impact earlier, but you now suspected he wasn’t human either.

Akaashi came forward last, looking as placid and calm as ever, cold fingertips stroking down your cheek.

You shivered.

None of these men were human, if you had to hazard a guess. Staring up at them, you felt your heart drop.

“W-Where are ‘Toka and Goshiki?” you asked, and were proud that your voice barely cracked. Maybe if you reminded them people would be looking for you, they would back off, allowing you to escape.

Kuroo chuckled, flipping the zipper of your-- Semi’s-- jacket up in what would have been a cute manner under different circumstances. “Keiji here sent them looking for the others in the funhouse, but they’ll never find the doorway down here. Tendo was right, there are lots of hidden doors in this place.”

“What are you? What are you going to-- to d-do to me?” you asked quickly, wrapping your fingers around his wrist as he started to tug the zipper down. You were stalling at best, your heart thumping harshly in your chest. If there was any chance of escape, you couldn’t figure it out. You had no idea where this door was and you had the impression you wouldn’t be able to outrun them anyway.

“I don’t suppose it would hurt to tell you,” he answered, taking a step closer. You tried to shrink away, huddling down into Semi’s oversized jacket, but it only seemed to entice them. “I am a yokai, I assume you know what that is? Akaashi is your run of the mill demon.”

If that offended Akaashi, he didn’t show it, simply widening his smile and blinking slowly. His once serene blue eyes turned pitch black and when he blinked again, they were normal.

“I’m just a werewolf,” Semi said, breathing against your ear. His hands slid down, catching the zipper of his jacket between his fingers and drawing the zipper down slowly.

“W-Wait, please,” you tried, grabbing and tugging at his wrist to no avail. He was far stronger, and you were like a fly in comparison. “Please, can we just go?”

Kuroo cupped your cheek, a moderate temperature compared to the other two, and his smile seemed to soften a fraction. “No, kitten. Keiji and I have been waiting for this for far too long. The wolf probably just likes how you smell.”

You weren’t sure what that meant, but the deep, pointed inhale Semi took against your neck seemed to verify the statement. The jacket fell to the floor with barely a whisper and then your phone was placed face up on a table, beside the men’s, and the combined light filled the room.

It felt like you couldn’t get enough air as warm hands skimmed down your stomach, stretching the soft fabric of your t-shirt out, before settling on your hips. Lips met your neck, tentative at first, trailing up to your jaw, causing you to shiver.

The heat radiating off of Semi and Kuroo was getting to you, Semi’s soft lips flitting over pleasure spots causing your back to arch. You didn’t want to like it, but when Kuroo’s hands slipped up your shirt and over your ribs, your muscles tensed in unwanted arousal. Your nipples were already peaking inside your bra, the hairs on the back of your neck raising at the first graze of teeth on your skin.

“W-Wa-ait--” you breathed and, for a moment, you thought they really would stop because they both paused.

It was over in a moment, a soft kiss pressed to your other cheek as Kuroo pushed your bra up over your tits. His hands were soft as they cupped the tender flesh, giving gentle squeezes that went straight to your core, as much as you protested. “Not gonna happen, kitten. May as well enjoy it. We’ll take good care of you.”

A new sensation joined the heat surrounding you then, Kuroo moving to the side to allow Akaashi to join in. His hands were cold compared to the other two, one on your side and one cupping your unoccupied breast. The difference was enough to make you gasp, back arching on its own into their touch, and they at least had the decency not to snicker.

“You really do smell good, princess,” Semi whispered in your ear, nipping the lobe. “I can smell everything, even how wet you’re getting for us.”

Craning your neck away from him only opened you up to another smattering of kisses and you hated that he was right. They were getting to you, their gentle touches on your body doing everything right, like they had been your lovers for years rather than men you just met today. It made it harder to think than it already was, mind still racing in a futile effort to formulate some way to escape, but even you could recognize your body giving up.

Your shirt came up and over your head, disappearing somewhere outside of your vision. There was a collective intake from the men in front of you, and Semi groaned over your shoulder.

“I knew you would be so pretty, kitten,” Kuroo cooed, palming one tit again. He relished in the way you twitched when he pinched your nipple, then he cupped both, bouncing and watching them jiggle. “Been watching you all day, we couldn’t wait to get our hands on you.”

Akaashi was the first to lean over, wrapping cool lips around one pert bud, and Kuroo stepped back to watch your teeth sink into your lip to stifle any noises.

“Feel good, princess?” Semi asked, and chuckled when you shook your head. “It will soon, then. We won’t hurt you. Just wanna make you feel good.”

The worst part was, you were beginning to enjoy it. It was so tempting to cave, to just let them have their way with you. They were gentle, surprisingly so, and it was knocking down whatever resistance you had left at an alarming rate.

Semi’s hands were almost scalding against your sides, squeezing and kneading as he suckled at your neck, feeling you whine in your throat. “There you go. Just let go.”

The clasp of your bra came loose, and you weren’t even sure who had done it, before it was slid down your arms and dumped, presumably with your shirt.

There were two sets of lips attached to each nipple, your nails digging into your palms to keep from tangling your fingers in someone’s hair but you were losing the will to fight. Your panties were embarrassingly wet, no matter how much your mind insisted you didn’t like it, and you broke your silence when cold fingers drifted down to undo the button of your jeans.

“No please,” you begged, wiggling your hips in your first real display of resistance. Hands clamped down to still them in an iron grip, and a hand clasped your jaw, forcing you to look Kuroo in the eyes.

“What wrong, kitten? You’ve been so good up til now,” he said, stroking your lower lip with his thumb. There were imprints of your teeth in the skin, and he ached to kiss you, but it would have to wait.

“I-I don’t w-want--” you stuttered, tears burning the corners of your eyes as your zipper was pulled down.

Semi interrupted you then, tilting your head just so that he could kiss the corner of your mouth, smirking. “She’s embarrassed because of how wet she is.” Dropping his voice to barely a whisper, he said, “I can smell you, princess. You want this, don’t deny it.”

Shaking your head feebly, you whined when Semi pressed his lips to your cheek, dangerously close to your lips again. It was enough to distract you from your jeans sliding down your legs, until they pooled at your ankles and Akaashi had to tug your shoes off. Your jeans hit the floor shortly afterwards, the air startlingly cool against your now bare skin only to be covered with warmth as the men caged you in again.

It started with two fleeting touches to your inner thighs, which you tried to stop by squeezing them together only for them to pried apart in an instant. Semi took the opportunity to lay another languid kiss to the corner of your mouth, tongue flicking out against your lips.

For a moment, you turned into it only to jerk away, looking in the opposite direction. You knew what they were trying to do and you wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of hearing you beg for something you didn’t want. You wondered briefly where the others were and why you could hear nothing from above, until warm hands cupped your tits again.

You bit down on your lip again when Semi circled your nipples with his thumbs, massaging your breasts as he rolled them between his fingers. It was hard to keep quiet when it felt so good, especially when Kuroo and Akaashi were teasing your inner thighs, so close your aching cunt.

Your hips rocked of their own accord, your mind too preoccupied with the warm touches on your tender nipples and stifling your noises, but all three of your attackers smirked.

“Ask, pretty girl,” Akaashi said, speaking for the first time.

His voice combined with his fleeting, cold touch against the soaked lips of your cunt caused a gasp to break free, hips rolling up in a jerky manner against your will. Your ears burned when they laughed and your teeth sank into your lip again. It was driving you insane, they were so close but you refused to beg for it.

“Aw, did we upset you, kitten?” Kuroo cooed, placing a wet kiss against your hip. “We’re sorry. You’re just so cute we can’t help it. Come on, ask us. Ask us to touch this pretty little pussy and we’ll make it up to you.”

Another swipe across your clit timed with a tug on your nipples broke the seal a second time.

“S-Semi--”

“There she goes,” Semi whispered, tilting your head around to look at him. Tears were spilling down your cheeks as you looked up at him with wide, resigned eyes. His eyes dropped to your parted lips for a moment and you swallowed, blinking the tears away, but didn’t struggle.

The first kiss was tentative, tongue ghosting between your parted lips to test you for a reaction. You only whined into the kiss, leaning in and he delved into your mouth, tongue lapping at yours as he tasted you.

When he pulled away, you hiccupped, letting your head rest on his shoulder as you closed your eyes.

“Please, just touch me. Fuck me, do whatever. I can’t--” you whispered, thighs aching from how tense you had been for god knew how long. It was too much to hold out, not when you were so wet and aching for it anyway. They knew what they were doing, their gentle teasing and buildup working to break down any fight you had and it had worked flawlessly.

You melted into Semi as Kuroo lifted one leg over his shoulder. Akaashi left a trail of cool kisses down your inner thigh while Kuroo kissed up the opposite one. You didn’t know whether to tremble or whine, so you did both when his nose bumped your clit, and they chuckled again.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it, pretty girl?” Akaashi asked, and you might have mistook it for affection in another situation. “Just relax.”

As if you had a choice. Hot breathe puffed across your folds, teasing just a little more until you were practically dripping on his lips. Only then did his tongue swipe across your clit, your hips jerking harshly. His hot tongue was replaced with a cold one, the two of them taking turns lapping at your clit at such a languid pace that it was more torturous than not being touched at all.

“Fuck, please, stop teasing,” you cried, voice cracking as your back arched. You were desperate at this point, willing to beg or do whatever they wanted. You weren’t getting out of it without doing so anyway, so you might as well enjoy it. “Kuroo, Akaashi, please.”

A sharp pinch to your nipples made you squeal just before Semi devoured your mouth. You could feel the aggravation in the kiss, the way his teeth clacked against yours and his tongue pressed against yours. You made muffled noises against him, one hand coming up to tangle in his hair.

At the same time, Kuroo latched onto your clit properly, and your eyes almost rolled into the back of your head as you rocked your hips against his feverish suckling. The noises he was making filled the quiet space, grunts and would-be moans that terminated against your clit as he worked to make you cum.

Your head was starting to spin from lack of oxygen and intense pleasure. Kuroo wasn’t giving you an inch and your slick hole fluttered around nothing, until something swirled around your entrance before slipping in.

You forgot about the kiss, Semi’s lips hovering against yours as you came with a cry around cold fingers. The temperature difference between Akaashi’s fingers and Kuroo’s lips was mind numbing, your eyelids flickering, trying to stay open before giving in. You didn’t bother to be quiet, letting your moans bounce off the walls. Maybe it would draw the others to you, and you could still get out of this.

Instead of withdrawing his fingers, Akaashi slipped another one in beside the first, kitten licking your still sensitive clit and listening to you whine for him to “Stop, please, too much.” He only smirked, continuing to lap until you relaxed, though the stream of noises never stopped.

There was a moment of hesitation as Kuroo stood, cocking his head in Semi’s direction. With your attention on your throbbing clit and Akaashi’s almost icy touch, you missed the way Semi beckoned to him. Their lips met briefly, allowing Semi to get a taste of you on his lips before Semi dragged him into a deeper one, tongues meeting in a heated tangle. Both men were hard, Semi grinding his clothed erection against the cheek of your ass, the chafing fabric unnoticed against your soft skin.

You squirmed against him when Akaashi crooked his fingers just right inside you, grazing over the swollen sweet spot inside you again and again until you were on the verge of another orgasm. It seemed like no matter how long his fingers stayed inside you, they never heated up. You weren’t even sure if the cold of his tongue flicking over your clit was pleasurable or not but it was such constant pressure that you hurtled towards your second orgasm. Kuroo was quick to stifle it, delving into your mouth for you to taste what remained of you on his tongue.

You came with a cry, convulsing around Akaashi’s fingers for a second time so hard you became light headed. He continued to pet that spot inside you until you were squirming to get away, tugging roughly at his hair.

Your legs shook when he let you down, only Semi’s strong grip keeping you upright. The sound of belt buckles clanging brought you down quickly, and trepidation set your heart racing again. There was no stopping it, but you found yourself trying to back up anyway.

“Ah,” Kuroo tutted, taking you from Semi’s arm and kissing the crown of your head like he was comforting you. “Don’t start that. We aren’t going to hurt you, kitten.”

No, they certainly hadn’t yet, and you had no choice but to trust his words. Something hard pressed against your ass, hotter even than the rest of Semi. You instinctively jerked away, pressing into Kuroo only to feel something slip between your thighs.

“Excited, aren’t we?” Kuroo drawled, and you could feel the condescension dripping off of him. Semi pressed to your back again, shielding you from the cold, while Kuroo asked, “How are we gonna take her? Semi, you kinda threw a wrench in things, can’t lie.”

Semi shrugged against your back, letting his cock settle between your thighs. You whined, jerking your hips instinctively away from the heat against your folds, but it only served to make him grind into you.

“I want this sweet cunt,” Semi snarled, cupping your jaw in a tight grip and tilting your head away, baring your throat to him. He licked a stripe from your shoulder to just beneath your ear before kissing the soft skin, and you shivered at the possessiveness in his tone.

“Alright, wolfboy smells a mate,” Kuroo said, rolling his eyes. “Akaashi?”

The last of the trio stepped forward again, skimming his fingers down your cheek before leaning in to steal a kiss. “I’m okay with whatever you want, Kuroo. Just wanna feel her around me.”

There was something dark in his eyes that belied his passive words. He was deferring to Kuroo to get things moving, you were almost sure. Like the rest of him, his cock was cool against your thigh, more like a glass dildo you kept at home than a cock attached to a man.

“That makes things easy then,” Kuroo said, clapping his hands and giving you that mischievous smile. If you didn’t know any better-- you didn’t-- you would say his teeth were a little sharper, the canines more pronounced than before. His eyes certainly hadn’t changed, maintaining that almost glowing golden color this whole time. “Semi, lay on the couch. Keiji, you can take her from behind. I want her mouth.”

He sounded like he was giving out instructions to his employees rather than fucking a very reluctant person, but the other two followed his instructions without question. It was an odd sensation, to be talked about as if you weren’t there, as if you had no say over what was happening to you.

Not that you did.

It wasn’t until you were straddling Semi that you realized something. In addition to being hotter than average, he was larger than average, peeking out from between your folds to drip precum just below his bellybutton. The way your stomach swooped made you nauseous and tears fell down your cheeks all over again.

“What’s wrong, princess?” he asked, wiping them away as best he could. You wouldn’t be fooled by the concern in his tone; he wouldn’t stop anyway.

You turned your face away only to jump when a finger slipped your cunt, cool to the touch, followed by a second, only to be removed a second later. They moved instead to your slick rear entrance, circling and massaging until it gave way, eased by your previous orgasms. You fell forward, bracing yourself over Semi, who held your rocking hips still. Two fingers filled you, the stretch no more than a sting but it was uncomfortable nonetheless when you didn’t want it.

Akaashi’s other hand came down, long fingers wrapping around your throat just beneath your chin, pulling you back up to your knees. “Good girl,” he whispered in your ear before forcing your head around so he could capture your lips.

They parted naturally when his tongue glided across them, allowing him access without thought. You couldn’t place his taste; it was like he’d just eaten ice before kissing you, and you moaned into it.

Kuroo, who until then had been content to watch, groaned and stood from the dilapidated chair he had been lounging in. One hand wrapped around your wrist, moving your hand to wrap around his aching cock, desperate for some kind of relief. Your palm was soft against him, and he spit on it twice for good measure before allowing you to curl your fingers around him again. They did so automatically, squeezing tight and he hissed through gritted teeth, slit pupils narrowing further as he watched Akaashi’s tongue delve into your mouth like he wanted his cock to.

All the while, Semi was forcing you to slide along his shaft, slow, calculated moves designed to drag your clit back and forth against him. He could feel you trembling above him, your hands curled into fists against his chest, hips moving with his hands. You dripped down his cock, covering him in your slick and he almost growled at the heady scent. Unlike the other two, he could smell how bad you wanted it and it was driving him wild.

“Akaashi, hurry up,” he snapped, digging his nails into your soft hips hard enough to leave marks if he wasn’t careful.

Akaashi hummed in disapproval, pulling from your mouth to stare impassively at the werewolf. “I don’t want to hurt her, Semi.”

Yet, he withdrew his fingers and you whined at the loss.

“Finally,” Semi hissed, helping Akaashi lift you up so he could slick his cock up against your cunt before settling against your rear hole. “You go first.”

Your toes curled tight enough to cramp as Akaashi gave you a warning nudge before splitting you open. Your jaw dropped, eyes widening as you stared up into the cobwebbed ceiling, waiting for him to bottom out. Thighs trembling in Semi’s hold, you fell back against Akaashi’s chest as his hips met your ass.

“Don’t worry, pretty girl,” he whispered, leaving cool kisses along your shoulder and neck. Goosebumps were raising up your arms and back, and he would have felt bad if you weren’t squeezing around his cock so tight while Semi positioned himself at your dripping hole.

You couldn’t decide if you really wanted two cocks, weren’t sure if you could even take two, but Semi was stretching you so wide you were crying out broken babbles none of them could make out as he seated you flush against his hips. You twitched above him, fluttered around him, squeezed rhythmically while you tried weakly to get away.

The sensation of fullness was one you had never experienced before. Even just Semi’s cock was more than you had ever taken, let alone Akaashi’s cock in your inexperienced asshole. You blinked rapidly, unable to decide if you liked it or not before a hand wound in your hair and you were pulled down.

Kuroo’s cock bobbed in your face and your jaw dropped automatically, allowing him to smear precum around your lips. He was more salty than bitter as he slipped into your mouth, stuffing himself as far as he could before you started gagging. Pulling back, he gave you a small reprieve to gasp for air before filling your mouth again. There was no fighting his thrusts, you had to force your throat to relax or choke. A mix of drool and tears spilled down your chin as a thick vein dragged against your tongue, dripping off to the floor. In the back of your foggy mind you were disgusted.

When they felt you relax around Kuroo’s cock, his hips moving in a steady rhythm to fuck your throat, Akaashi and Semi moved.

You spasmed around Kuroo when Semi lifted you up and dropped you back down, your hips meeting with a wet slap, his cock stifling your scream. Akaashi pulled out then, a little more careful as he stuffed himself back in, but the constant push and pull of their hips soon spread fire through your body. Kuroo was heavy on your tongue, Semi and Akaashi bumping and grinding against each other through the thin wall separating your cunt and ass, Semi’s curls stimulating your throbbing, sensitive clit.

You couldn’t fathom how you were careening towards a third orgasm, but Semi’s cock was so thick he couldn’t help but drag along the swollen, gummy sweet spot inside you. Akaashi’s low, pleasured moans in your ear gave you a vague sense of pride. These gorgeous men wanted you, were moaning for you.

It was enough to make you forget this wasn’t right.

Kuroo thought you were moaning, your throat vibrating around his cock as he facefucked you with abandon. The tight sleeve of your throat only grew tighter when Akaashi’s hand slipped between your legs to pet your clit and Kuroo grunted.

“Keep that up, kitten, and you’re gonna make me cum,” he said, holding your nose down in his curls for a few seconds just to feel you spasm around him.

Semi and Akaashi felt the benefits of it, both your holes clenching around them as you gagged. Semi took the opportunity to grind deep inside you, rolling his hips up so that he pushed against your cervix.

Your thighs trembled around him, a squeal stifled around Kuroo’s cock as you came hard, jerking in Semi’s hold. He snarled, bouncing you on his cock with abandon as Akaashi slammed into you, spreading your clenching hole without care as he moaned.

Kuroo grunted, pumping into your mouth a few more times before pressing your nose into his pelvis and cumming, his lips parted in an ‘o’ and his head tipping back. You had no choice but to swallow until he pulled out and spilled the remnant all over your face, smirking as it mixed with your tears and drool to drip off your chin.

Semi’s back arched off the couch, strong hands pulling you down to sit flush with his hips as he spilled inside you. Your eyes grew wide at the intense heat filling your womb, the warmth rushing up through you at the same time Akaashi came in your ass. Goosebumps erupted across your skin as his cum offset the heat of Semi’s, and your vision swam for a moment from overstimulation.

Semi caught you as you collapsed forward, cradling you to his chest regardless of the mess, petting your hair.

Akaashi slipped out of you, sharing a small smirk with Kuroo as he sought out your clothes.

“Give me my shirt,” Semi said, catching it from the air when Akaashi threw it. He forced you to sit up, watching you sway with a twisted sense of pride, and wiped the mess from your face. Akaashi and Kuroo took you from there, helping you to dress while you leaned against them, unable to keep from snickering at the state they’d left you in.

“Can you walk, kitten?” Kuroo asked, setting his hands on your shoulders. “Or do you need someone to carry you?”

“I-I can w-walk,” you stuttered, throat raspy. You frowned and grabbed it, swallowing with a wince.

“Good girl,” Kuroo said, dropping a kiss on your lips and smirked when you leaned after him as he pulled away. “We don’t need to worry about you telling anyone, do we?”

Shaking your head, you allowed Semi to wrap an arm around your shoulders, keeping you close to bathe in his warmth as Kuroo led the way up the hidden stairs a little ways down the hall they had been blocking earlier. At the top of the stairs, you could hear voices calling your names and perked up, trying to follow the echoes in the darkness.

“This way,” Kuroo said, leading the way though there wasn’t a speck of light in sight. Your own phone was tucked safely in the pocket of Semi’s jacket, which he had taken back. “Keiji, give me your phone. Appearances.”

Right, couldn’t let the humans know.

Everyone crowded around you, throwing questions all at once, until Shirabu lost his temper. He insisted on looking you and Semi over, just to determine for sure nothing was the matter.

He seemed a little concerned by how out of it you were, and asked if you hit your head.

Three sets of eyes landed on you, all carrying a different weight as they waited for you to speak.

“Just tired, Shirabu,” you murmured, hiding your face in Semi’s side. “It took ages for them to find us. Can we go home now?”

The tension eased, though you kept your face hidden, allowing him to guide you blindly down the hallway.

It was even colder outside than earlier, and Kuroo took over the spot on your other side, gently shooing Yachi towards the other. She had insisted on keeping you company, watching you with wide, worried eyes while Akaashi and Kuroo whispered together behind her.

Even now, she watched the way the three men hovered around you with curious concern. They treated you like a precious object-- or a possession that needed to be protected.

You nodded in response to something Kuroo said, trying-- if possible-- to curl even closer into Semi. Akaashi hovered in the background, pretty face as impassive as ever until he caught Yachi looking at him.

His lips curled up in a smile, his face softening ever so slightly, and she relaxed. Whatever had happened to you down there, it seemed to spark something in the three men.

Whatever it was, it couldn’t have been that bad.

#🖤.kuroo #🖤.akaashi #🖤.semi #tw noncon #tw reluctance

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sagemusesoutloud · 3 years ago

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Anti-Romantic, Part 1

(credit to the original owner of the image)

Character | Jaehyun x reader Genre | nonidol!au, Mutual Pining, Slowburn, Fluff WordCount | 3.6 K Author'sNote | lmaoooo the fact that I intended this to be a oneshot type of thing oops. Wellllll, I tried. Most likely to be a two part series, but we'll see.

This is part of a series I intend to call "If Songs were Fics" and this particular one was loosely inspired by TXT's Anti-Romantic bc I'm obsessed. I hope you enjoy reading as much I enjoyed writing it!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

I don't know who loves me

And I don't care, It's a waste anyways

A romantic feeling, Kinda scares me

“Any plans for you birthday next week?”

Jaehyun shakes his head at you, “no, not yet, don’t you have that date with that barista?”

“I’m not sure, he’s been acting weird over text lately. Might not be worth it,” you shrug your shoulders. “Besides, it’s your birthday! You only get one of those a year, we should plan something.”

You were on your way to the gym, a ritual you and Jaehyun had ever since you both found out you worked for the same company. You had been childhood friends, but ended up losing touch since you went to separate universities.

It was a nice surprise to see a friendly face on the first day of orientation and throughout the duration of your training for the next six weeks. Although you were both from different departments, you enjoyed taking your lunch breaks together and sharing small gossip about your old class-mates.

“ugh, don’t remind me,” he let’s out a long sigh, “every year, it seems like my family won’t stop pestering me about starting a family.”

“What’s so wrong about that?”

“Nothing, just not for me. Or at least not yet. I don’t think I’m the type to settle down,” he shrugs again as if it were no big deal.

You gasp, “how could you say that? I’ve seen your insta account. It’s got your cousin’s kids all over it!” You stop to take a good look at him as he holds the door of the gym open for you. “Back in school too, you used to tutor those elementary kids for volunteering hours. Even when you didn’t need them. You’ve always liked kids.”

“That’s different…”

“Right. Totally different things. Got it,” you roll your eyes. This wasn’t the first time he mentioned not wanting to settle down. At first, you had thought it was because he liked ‘keeping his options open’ like back in high-school. Or, not that you knew for sure, but if the rumors were true then it meant he slept his way around. Apparently, he never slept with someone twice and despite the cold shoulder the other party would get, all you had ever heard were praises. Not that you paid that much attention or anything.

You and Jaehyun had the same circle of friends, but despite that, he had never made any advances towards you. You’d be lying if that didn’t bother you at least once or twice. You just assumed that he didn’t want to make the friendship awkward or mess with the friend dynamics of your group. Which was why your crush on him in junior high ended as soon as you got to high-school.

You ended up going on dates with other people, but nothing that kept your interest. Nothing that compared to how you felt around him. Not that he seemed to think the same, so you tried your best to stay the good friend you always have been. You didn’t want to push something he clearly didn’t want; not that it didn’t hurt any less. Throughout the years it’s become bearable, at least. Almost like a painful habit.

You check in and head to the locker rooms to change. His nonchalance about the subject had always puzzled you. You’d seen first hand how all the female coworkers seemed to sway their hips as they walked by him, how some would pop a blouse button more than usual when around him, and you swore no one else was getting that much help throughout training more than him. He was handsome and a gentleman, that much was painfully obvious.

You meet him outside by the water fountain, “ready for warm-up?” he guides your way to the treadmills.

“When’s the last time you dated?”

You would have laughed if you weren’t so shocked to see him trip from the corner of your eye. “why the sudden curiosity?” He finally responds.

“Not sudden, I’d always wondered.” You defended. “You’re good looking and you’re very…I mean, you live on your own and have your own car. You have good relations with your family AND you’re good with kids. So, what is it?” You hadn’t realized how troubling you thought it all was. But now that you started digging you couldn’t stop.

“I just—” you pause, “it doesn’t make sense.”

You hear him chuckle, “you might wanna slow down before you pull something.” You look down and realize that your pace had gone from a relaxed jog to a borderline run during your rant. Maybe this wasn’t the best time to psychoanalyze your only friend in the city.

“Well, I just don’t know how to let people in. It’s just that.” He finally responds. “I love kids, but I don’t know or think I’d be a good partner.” He slows down before stopping, ending the conversation. He waves you off with an easy smile as you stay running.

Huh, maybe you pushed him too far. Your eyes can’t help but follow him around the gym.

Sweet and bitter chocolate, The taste at the end is always the same

Like the saddest movies, Only tears in my eyes

Your hands were sweaty the entire morning, anticipating your lunch time. It was his birthday today, and while you hadn’t made any concrete plans you ended up agreeing to go over to his place after work. Your gym bag was ready with snacks and comfy clothes to stay over. You remembered him saying he was excited to watch that new Marvel movie that had recently come out so you had bought it online to stream it at his place as a surprise. But what had you nervous was the small heart shaped box sitting in your purse. You didn’t know what possessed you to buy it but you had immediately thought of Jae when you passed by it at the mall. You remember vaguely mentioning that it was a special occasion to the sales lady (as in, his birthday), but she must have thought it was your significant other rather than friend because she changed the box to the red velvet shaped one while giving you a wink. In her defense, you could have protested but…why didn’t you?

You hear a knock on your door, “hey little miss sunshine.” Ah, Nakamoto, this couldn’t be good news. He was only sickly sweet to you when he needed a favor.

“What do you want?” you deadpan. He only laughs as he makes himself comfortable in your office. “Well, nothing in particular. Can’t stop by and see how you’re doing?” he feigns hurt.

“Right—the last time you ‘came by’ you left me working over-time through the weekend,” You sigh, “so what is it this time? Missed meeting? Late proposal?” To be fair, your supervisor WAS overworked sometimes. And since you were the only worker under him, it was normal for him to sometimes share some of the load with you.

He smiles at you, “nope. Just have a proposal for you. I know you’ve been working hard these past few months and I’ve been really impressed by your work ethic.” He stands and moves closer to your desk, “And I thought some sort of reward was in order, as well as celebration.” Ok, now you’re confused. You were ok with the reward part, it usually came in the form of a gift card to your favorite coffee shop, but celebration?

“Why would we celebrate? Did I miss something?”

“Not yet, but I did recommend you to the partner position with me. And I wanted to be the first to tell you that the boss approved it earlier today. So, what do ya say? Dinner on me?” he extends his hand out to you and wiggles his eyebrows playfully.

Oh.

Shit! You were hoping this would happen eventually, moving up from the entry-level position you had. But you had never thought it would be this fast. “Oh my gosh, are you serious?” You give him your hand and he shakes it in mock salute.

“Of course, some people will come by to move your computer to the office next to mine. You start Monday!” he winks, “So, wanna go to that new rooftop restaurant? This is a once in a life-time ticket, so you best say yes.”

But your dinner with Jae…He’ll understand, right? He has to. It’s not like he seemed that excited about it anyway. And you could always spend the day together tomorrow, too. It would be pretty rude to turn down Yuta after he pulled some strings for you…

You smile at him, “Thank you Mr. Nakamoto, I won’t let you down as a partner. Yeah, dinner sounds great. Wanna meet there?”

You sit down on the small table, now nervous for other reasons.

Jae sits opposite of you, a small smile on his face. “Hey you,” he greets.

“hey…” you start, “I hate to change plans so suddenly, but…” crap, you feel really shitty. But you really were between a rock and a hard place.

“everything ok?”

“yeah, no. I actually just got promoted,” you start.

“You did? That’s awesome! So fast, too. Wow—but shouldn’t you be more enthusiastic about it?” he chuckles.

“I am, just—my old supervisor wanted to go to dinner to celebrate. And I don’t think I could say no after helping me out like that.”

“I mean, did you want to skip it or?” Now he’s confused.

“Well, he wanted to go out tonight since I start Monday and today’s Friday…I don’t think I can come over tonight,” you explain.

Realization crosses his features before he gives a small smile. “Don’t worry about it, you’re fine. And he’s treating you! You don’t know when the next time he offers might be,” he continues, “we can celebrate another day anyway.”

“Are you sure?” now you feel like shit.

“Of course I’m sure.”

For the rest of the lunch, a thick silence settles before he excuses himself back to work.

Jaehyun knew this was coming. Nothing ever went his way; it’s why he kept everyone at a distance from his heart. But he was weak when it came to you. This game of push and pull was bound to keep happening, and it only brought him that all familiar foul taste in his mouth.

I know, that sweet love song, Those words of promise

When you turn around, It's just an unfamiliar someone

It was why he decided to go else-where for university, instead of joining you and some of your friends to the one closest to home. He chose to go across the globe—far, far away from the curse of you.

It had started on a windy day, back when you were 4 and new to the town he grew up in. Jaehyun didn’t want to leave his mother’s arms, he didn’t like the thought of being with strangers until later in the day even if his mom promised that she would be back. A little girl with jean overalls like his came up to him and his mom, “why are you crying?”

“I am not!” he sniffed. He didn’t need to make new friends like his mom was trying to tell him. All he needed was to go back home. You took out something from your pocket and showed it to him, “look, my mom said I could give one to my first friend. She said it was sharing. Want one?”

In her little palm, were two kiss chocolates. “You’re not my friend,” he grumbled, “I don’t know your name.” At that, you giggled, “I’m Y/N!” you took his hand and placed a chocolate there, “there, now we’re officially friends.”

“See, Jae? You can spend some time with Y/N and have fun. Before you know it, I’ll be back,” she promised.

“Yeah, Jae! Come play blocks with me, and then we can try the coloring.” You held his hand as you led him deeper into the classroom. Just like that, Jae began to feel a little warmth in his chest. He didn’t mind that his favorite thing to do was play tag outside or that he wasn’t really good at coloring inside lines yet. But that didn’t matter to him. As long as he had this one friend around, he was content.

Sorry I'm an anti-romantic, I want to run far away

My heart that already chases after you, Blazes up as a small flame

Looking back at it now, it was a little funny. All it took to let you in back then was a simple chocolate kiss and your little sticky hand in his leading the way. You were always larger than life to him, sometimes he forgot that you were just as human as him.

As you two continued to grow, nothing seemed to change your friendship. But he knew that the depth of his feelings wasn’t mutual. It was in the way that you brought a lot different people together and decided to call it your family. Another of your friends, Jungwoo, liked to joke that you collected introverts for fun. To Jaehyun, it was more likely that you just didn’t see the fun in leaving people out. You were charming and passionate. Traits he wished he had. Your empathetic nature and gentle disposition were all that Jaehyun needed, even if he wasn’t the only recipient.

Once you guys started to hit puberty, things started to feel rocky. Jaehyun couldn’t help but physically distance himself from you, his ears were always red-hot. You had always been pretty to Jaehyun, but you were starting to become really beautiful. And if the boy’s locker rooms’ talk were anything to go by, then other people were definitely starting to realize “what a great catch” you were.

It really pissed him off. Who were they to say things as if all you were was a piece of meat? It disgusted him. But what disgusted him more was the fact that sometimes, he couldn’t help but also feel the way your body felt in his when you hugged in greeting. He hated the way his body reacted to everything you did.

He first messed around with a senior girl back when he was a sophomore, Sooyoung. She was leaving and he couldn’t take it anymore. Your boyfriend was a piece of trash and he was tired of hearing the way he would share what Jae considered to be intimate moments that had no business being public. But you seemed so happy… that next game, Jae stole the ball from him and scored on his own. Even if it cost him a three hour lecture from the coach, he would do it again. Fuck being a team, that guy was an asshole.

What he hadn’t planned on was liking messing around. He would never admit it, but the reason he couldn’t commit was because he couldn’t get rid of that small grain of hope that glowed in his chest every time you stared at him longer than would be deemed normal. It wasn’t often, but he knew he wasn’t seeing things. So, he succumbed to the cycle of push-and-pull that you guys had going on.

Jaehyun wasn’t blind, he knew that your work definitely spoke of your professionalism, but he’s also seen the way Nakamoto stared after you. Of the way his hand would often touch your waist when walking together. Even now, as he hears you apologize through the phone again as you get ready for your “date” with him he can’t help this heart feel heavy with anger. Anger at himself, for letting you slip away once more. He usually hopes for nothing but the best for you, but this time, he wishes you had an awful dinner.

Sorry I'm an anti-romantic, I don't believe in romance

I'm afraid that after burning my whole heart, It will only leave behind ashes

Throughout the entire dinner, you can’t seem to get Jae out of your mind. It keeps you from enjoying the delicious food, keeps you from keeping your usual banter with Nakamoto.

You’re about to call it a night and thank Nakamoto for inviting you out when he beats you to it, “damn, I was hoping this might be a good break from the usual overtime we do, but something tells me your mind has been elsewhere,” he offers good naturedly, “I know it’s valentine’s, so maybe this is why we feel so awkward, right?”.

You grimace a bit at that, “ah—I’m sorry. I really am grateful for the way you look after me in the company and I’m also thankful for this lovely dinner,” you stop a bit, afraid you might offend him, “I agreed to come out tonight, so no need to feel awkward.” You offer a smile.

“Alright then. I guess you already have your sights on someone?” he prods. Should you be honest? There was no rule against dating outside your department, and you were pretty sure your new boss’s wife also worked within the company. “…I do. But I’m pretty sure they don’t feel the same way. It’s been so long since we’ve known each other. Surely if something were to have happened, it would have by now.” You were loosening up, definitely the wine’s fault.

Nakamoto sighs at that, “damn, and here I thought I could woo you after this,” he winks jokingly but you laugh him off. You knew he didn’t care for you that way. “I really hope you’re talking about the guy you always eat lunch with. I swear everyone thought you guys were married when you were released from training.”

“What?! No, I—we’ve been friends since we were children—”

“Aha! So it was him then,” he smirks. “Good.”

You groan, “Please, no.”

“What, it’s not him? You sure about that?”

“I will neither confirm nor deny that statement,” you groan. Why were you discussing your love life? You push the wine away and take a sip of your water.

“Hmm. That’s too bad. Could have sworn that guy was after you.” He stands up. “But fine, I’ll stop prodding.”

You sigh in relief—“for now.” You groan. “What do you even mean by that? You don’t even know him. Or me, or at least personally at least.”

“Mmm, I don’t have to. Some things you just know. Like how he wishes I was six feet under every time we run across him at work,” he sobers up at that. “He seemed like a cool dude, but his glare isn’t too friendly. I don’t know how you fell for that.”

You scoff, “just because someone has a resting bitch face doesn’t mean they’re a bad person.”

You both make your way to the underground parking. “You’re right, it just makes them unapproachable. Is that why you won’t confess?” His genuine tone rubs you the wrong way, you don’t need be given false hope.

“Stop it, you said you would drop it,” you frown, “Anyways, thank you for the food boss—”

“—not your boss anymore. Just call me Yuta, we’re partners now.”

“Aren’t you two years older than me?”

“And?”

You shrug at that, “well, thanks Yuta. For the food, not for the interrogation.” He chuckles at that, nodding while pulling out his car keys. “see you Monday!” he waves you off.

You sigh as you get home. It wasn’t as late as you thought it was, only a few minutes past nine. You really wanted to see him. Would he be busy?

You fish out your phone and dial his number before chickening out.

“Hello?”

“Jae! It’s me. Are you busy right now?” your heartbeat is pounding so loud, you’re scared he could hear it on the other end. “Right now?” you hear shuffling on the other end, “no, I was just reading that book Jungwoo sent me. Might have dozed off a bit into it but don’t tell him I said that,” he chuckles.

“Why, is everything ok? It’s still early, did you end dinner that fast?”

“Oh, Yuta and I called it a night pretty early. Too many couples were out and about and it got a bit awkward,” you explained.

“Yuta?”

“Ah, yes. Yuta Nakamoto, but now that we’re associates, he said it would be better to address him less formally.” You waive him off, “actually, I was wondering—if it’s not too late, can I still come over? If not, that’s cool. We can still hang out tomorrow, but your birthday is today and I thought—”

He laughs at your rambles, “of course you can come over, you know you don’t have to ask. How many times have I told you that?”

“Ok, ok. Just checking,” you still had your comfy change of clothes in your car, so you opt to save those for tomorrow and change into something causal for tonight.

“Do you want me to go get you? We can get ice cream on the way, hopefully they don’t close early.”

“Sounds like a plan then,” curse your heart for melting at everything he says.

“Alright, give me 15 and I’ll be there.” He hangs up.

You look at your bag, resting on your sofa and you sigh. The entire night, it’s almost as if you could feel the weight of his gift weighing it down. Yuta is known for being very observant, it’s why he was so good at his job. Closing deals and making contracts in advertisement. Would he be right about this? You know you desperately wish he was, but is it worth risking your best friend?

EndNote | Woooow, that was a longass ride. Let me know if you liked it or if there are other typos I missed! Or just to let me know what you thought, that would be much appreciated. I'm thinking of finishing it by Sunday 6/13, so hopefully the next part is up by then. Until then!

Here's Part 2!

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theresa-of-liechtenstein · 3 years ago

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@lavstar i was so incredibly stupid and i deleted your ask while i was drafting it… i swear i didn’t forget to do it 😭 anyway i’ve FINALLY finished it so let’s jump into the compilation of the most planes i have ever brainrot ❤️ because no ❤️ you cannot expect me to pick one ❤️ it is impossible ❤️

two airbus A320s taking off from parallel runways, five nautical miles apart ‘cause they’re not gay!

btw i genuinely do not care about military aircraft (never have, prob never will) so these are all to do with civil aviation. also huge disclaimer i did all the commentary off the top of my head (i did have to wikipedia some of the stats im not martin fucking crieff) so if i mess up a term or something that’s on me

of course no post about my favorite planes cannot leave out the OG. my first love, the most plane i have ever ridden; the one, the only, the increasingly irrelevant due to industry shifts, the beloved Airbus A380.

(L) just look at this big beautiful girl! + (R) a view of i believe scotland? as approached from the north

i don’t know why i love this plane so much, because lots of other people certainly don’t for a lot of reasons. her size makes her the main character out of necessity at every airport she comes across, and she’s an inconvenience for air traffic controllers for that reason. her origin story is [twitter stan account voice] a bit problematic. given changes in industry trends, she is also quickly becoming irrelevant. airbus my beloved please just admit that the four engines thing was nostalgia and go. she’s a marvel of engineering sure, but when all is said and done…the B747 came, she served cunt, and then she got phased out. the A380 was made with the intention of doing the same…unfortunately, she didn’t really complete the second step.

wait holy shit. i know why i love this plane so much. it’s because this plane…is me ❤️

—

and now for thee og in terms of famous big-ass planes that everyone loves: the B747. everyone loves the 747. even if they say they’re not into planes, they are. for me, not gonna lie: a very big reason for why i love the Queen of the Skies so much is mark vanhoenacker’s book, skyfaring. he flew the 747 for bri’ish airways (when they still had them) and loved that plane so much and man who am i to blame him.

(L) i think i teared up when i saw her through the big windows for the first time bc i was like oh my god. i am going to be on her. this icon of aviation, the arguable symbol of commercial aviation. so much history, so much significance… + (R) the past, the present, and the future of british airways in one image 🥺

i was on a 747 twice in my life. once on a cathay pacific flight to the philippines, and on my last flight abroad, on a british airways flight to heathrow. little did i know i was flying one of the last of their 747 flights—they phased them out completely the following year, a bit earlier than anticipated due to the pandemic.

as enzo ferrari once probably said, “ask a child to draw a plane, and certainly he will put a hump and four engines on it.” in terms of sheer iconic power and energy, the Queen (and she is the only earthly being to whom I shall ever refer as such) would far and away be the top on anyone’s list, save for the fact that i don’t have a top to this list and i have other planes to get to dear god this is getting long do you know what you’ve got yourself into!! the Queen really said “flight belongs to the people now” and the airlines just had to shut up and listen!! she is truly the main character!!!

genuinely don’t remember what river this is except that it’s in the UK… 🙈

i feel like everything else i say about her is just going to be a pale imitation of how evocative skyfaring was, so honestly i really recommend the book it’s so good and it’s one of my favorites. my copy is sort of falling apart now bc i kept bringing it around to places 😭 anyway, the number of airlines using her for passengers is decreasing, but you know who still use converted versions of her as well as purpose-built models? cargo airlines! anyway, ups and their brown planes my beloved 🤎

—

this slot was going to go to the B767 and 757, and i was going to rhapsodize about how aesthetically the 767 looks like a nicer plane to me because of Chonk, but the 757 is really endearing because it’s a narrowbody jet and it’s got landing gear that is long in a useful but unusual-looking way, which in essence what i’m trying to say is that if the 757 were a person, it would be esteban ocon.

so i was getting ready to write all of this down in much more words than i needed, but i remembered suddenly the very reason i was making this post in the first place. and that, my friends, is the B777.

honestly you don’t fully understand how big the 777 is until you see it in person. because we are all acclimated to think of like the 747 when we think of ‘big plane.’ but the 777 is massive. even i forgot about it when i wrote That Fanfic.

the 777 and 787 are the future of long-haul commercial aviation (and i say this as an A380 stannie). widebody jets with 2 big-ass engines are most likely what we’re going to see in the sky going forward when it comes to long-distance travel, and the pandemic pretty much confirmed that.

that aside, i love the 777. so much that i wrote a whole fanfic around one making an emergency landing ❤️ i really pretended ETOPS (the thing where a plane can fly for a long time on one engine) did not exist for six chapters and an alternate ending and i think that’s just very quirky of me aha 🤪

dear god do not mind my hat i literally bought it because of fred fucking thursday of endeavour… what the FUCK was teenage me on 😭

the 777 was supposed to be a trijet (one with three engines, two under each wing and one built into the vertical stabilizer) but as the mcdonnell douglas and lockheed martin trijets (cba to look up the numbers) were not projected to continue to be successful, they got rid of the trijet 777 idea and instead made it have two engines. another thing i think is neat is that all the examples of the 777 that you will see in the wild right now don’t have winglets bc the wings themselves are so long and raked back that they’re not necessary. which would be a weird thing for me in particular to find neat, because if you know me well you know i have a thing for winglets. (the 2022 f1 car’s front wing my BELOVED WAKSKDKSJSJ!!!!!) i also think the way the wingtip lights are incorporated into the wings are so neat. the upgraded version they’re trying to make now, the 777X, will have foldy wingtips so you can DIY your own winglets and i think that’s hilarious (and also cool).

—

genuinely i think i’m the only plane person that likes this last aircraft: the Embraer ERJ-175. i like her for purely nostalgic reasons. she reminds me of how i returned to my roots and decided to pursue engineering.

so okay this is going to have nothing to do with the plane, but i was lucky enough to be given a visit to the flightdeck after landing back home from a weekend trip. i was so excited to be allowed to sit in the first officer’s seat, and got to poke around the flightdeck for like ten minutes. which was cool, but all this was with the sinking realization that even operating a regional jet might be too physically demanding (read: unsafe) for someone of my… [exhales knowing EXACTLY what i’m about to walk into] height.

that is one fully glass cockpit. also those yokes are specific to embraer, boeing’s look more like f1 steering wheels with stuff cut out of them i think, and airbus’s are operated by side stick. it’s almost funny especially when watching flightdeck videos of the a380 cause it’s like… you’re doing All That *gestures vaguely at plane* with THAT *gestures at thing that looks like a chicken drumstick with semiconductors implanted in it*

so that was piloting as a career done with for me (much to my family’s relief.) and then i thought “hm i don’t have to be flying planes all the time to be working around them…why don’t i work on developing them instead?” and i was passively interested in matsci already, so that’s how and when i decided to pursue engineering, with hopes of working for airbus or boeing and in civil aviation.

we’ll see how that pans out, i say as i side-eye the exponential growth of my interest in motorsport.

thanks for the ask! i’m so sorry i was stupid and deleted it but i hope you like this very long, drawn out, and frankly deranged response 💚

#em speaks #lavstar #this is half me showing off my plane pictures half deranged rant i hope you enjoy

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lovemeian · 3 years ago

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hi! so i read broken waves and i that’s mc karma for suna 🤪 anyway can i ask a couple of questions?

• why and for how long he cheated? did he really loved his mistress (post-it note where she replied with a i love u too)?

• when he saw the divorce papers, did he regretted his infidelity when he saw mc (he didn’t recognise her anymore)? and decided to let her go…or he was happy to divorce her?

• he remarried (with his mistress) and wasn’t sure if he ever loved his second wife…he had those doubts before or after the marriage?

• at mc’s wedding (gut feeling, it was atsumu who decided to send the invitation 😏) - he went alone and he’s been for a while so his second marriage failed too, i guess? does he STILL love reader?

• what was suna’s friends (ie old inarizaki vb) reaction to his divorce with reader? i guess they asked why their marriage ended 🧐 were they friends with yn? last but not least: who attended suna’s second wedding 👀👀

sorry too many questions 😭🙈 just really liked your one shot

MC KARMA FOR SUNA JKAJSAKSJ I LOVE IT !!

—spoilers for broken waves! if ya gonna read don't read this yet!

what i can say w/o answering the questions, is that general theme for this fic is inspired by the original little mermaid. the danish one made by hans christian andersen. and that shit was dark. its about sea foam, a catalyst of love that you. . . you kinda see where the ending is going?

idek, i just really love dark fairytales. when u spin them like gold from rough fingers, u dont notice the mould made from a cursed spell until you present them to a king with all your heart. that. this is the price for it. i hope you can live with it.

ASK AWAY I LOVE QUESTIONS SO MUCH—

—oh lord, ok so i only had a shallow timeline of him cheating, but a few months? three months when mc found the perfume. but its like,, a solid seven months when she found the paper.

—funnily enough, heh, no suna didn't love the mistress. not really. he thought he did, but it was more of. he was in this unhappy marriage, everything felt like a struggle, every time they met together, they fought, he was tired. and this. . . infidelity he had felt like a respite, no matter how short. he wanted her to see it. to see what would happen. to see her fight for him?? he felt them going into a dead end marriage and his big brain idea was to. . . rile her up? but at the same time, to end his marriage to. its like that dark fascination when u see a car crash happen in front of your eyes. you just. stop and stare sometimes.

—less regretting the infidelity, more regretting doing it to this person. this person he loved, he swore to adore forever and seeing a broken shard. he vaguely knew this was going to be the ending, but to see her actually as a broken wave, a foam against the shore— it broke something in him, and knew that divorcing her was a mercy he needed to give her. if not for him now, then the husband who had promised to love her.

—yeah, he had those doubts long before he got married. he vaguely knew he didn't love her, not especially like his first wife. bc he knew this was borne from something ugly, something broken. and that sticks to you. also i wanted maximum hurt, people who cheat don't deserve respite bye.

—gut feeling is right, nonnie! tsumu sent the invite, the little gremlin hehe. here's the thing about love that i adore so much. even if you don't. actively love someone anymore, there are shadows of it. from the memories, esp when you know you only loved this person like this— and yes, he was divorced from second marriage, ultimately since that marriage was doomed from the beginning — and to see them again ignites all these former feelings. its kindle to a larger flame.

—oh suna's friends were highkey disappointed. but its weird, isn't it? they can't do anything bc it alr happened, and they're still sorta friends with them both. but they adore y/n, so when the dust settled after divorce, they distracted her from suna's new relationship and i think that's why she met atsumu. everyone but atsumu attended suna's wedding, bc at the time, he was developing feelings for her and wanted to let him know there's something brewing. osamu and the rest went as a respect, but no one really wished them good tidings. only that he's happy with the price he paid and got.

no problem at all, i love answering questions so much ehehe, thank you for these!

#qna: nonnie #lvmn.broken waves #lvmn.thoughts

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nadiineross · 4 years ago

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widow angst abt not loving sombra but also maybe loving sombra, going in circles and circles like a lil caged animal, fucked up tenses and incoherent half thoughts bc its almost 4am i wrote this in 30min

Widow doesn’t know, sometimes, what to do with choices. She’s hardly had to make any since she became who she is. But Sombra always demands that she make them: choose the restaurant they’re ordering from, pick which car to jack, do you want to go on a date?

With most of her emotions, few of them as they are, she doesn’t know what to do with. Doesn’t know if she wants them. Sombra wants her to know and, that, she knows she dislikes. But she likes Sombra, so she puts up with it.

Sombra is demanding in this way. If it were anyone else, Widow would have shot them by now, for being so presumptuous, for the arrogance, the selfishness, to ask this of Widow.

But Sombra’s Sombra and not many people like Widow, so she has to hold on to those who do. Or she doesn’t. Many people like Widow. She’s pretty, she knows. She flaunts it, after all, to get what she wants sometimes. Those people, Widow wouldn’t think twice about killing.

Sombra is different because she actually gives a damn. Sombra thinks she loves Widow which is something they have argued about a few times—always, Widow lets the matter rest once she has said her piece, because Sombra can be stubborn when she wants to be, can outwait Widow when she wants to.

Sombra’s special like that. She’s silly, idiotic, callous, but underneath it all, she’s still the most independently capable, motivated, and intelligent person Widow knows. She’s entirely self-made, entirely in control. And she hides it all behind being a cheeky shit because it’s the smart thing to do and Sombra is so smart.

Being with her makes Widow feel powerful. At night, when Sombra’s curled up against Widow’s side, Widow will brush her ridiculous purple hair out of her face, trace the curve of her forehead, and think about how the brain encased in Sombra’s hard head can, and in fact has, toppled small countries on its own. And this very brain thinks it loves Widow.

Widow isn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth—usually.

It’s a matter of practicality, really. Sure, she’s not who she used to be and physically can’t process emotions the way regular people can. But she’s not dumb; she knows how relationships work. She was married, for God’s sake.

She knows, logically, it’s about communication and honesty, and reciprocation. Otherwise, it’s just leeching. It’s being deadweight.

Widow can force communication and honesty out of herself. Those are things that are within her capabilities. The necessary skills and traits are useful to Talon, so she has them. Reciprocation is a different story. Reciprocation is difficult.

She likes Sombra, so she will make a conscious effort to keep her around. Sombra tells her that this is what love is.

Widow agrees and disagrees. Of course, she cares for Sombra’s wellbeing, but she cares about Akande and Gabriel, too. She would never claim she loves them, not in the way she might with Sombra.

That’s another thing: uncertainty. She is certain she doesn’t love other people. She isn’t so sure with Sombra.

Sombra can be very convincing, if she puts the effort in—coercion is her whole schtick, anyway—and this Widow also likes and hates. They’ve done a bunch of new and exciting things together, and most of it, Sombra had talked Widow into. Widow values those experiences.

But Sombra also talks Widow into things she’s not so enthusiastic about. Submitting a form to Talon declaring their relationship? Thinking about that day makes her want to murder someone. So awkward.

Sombra also talks Widow into thinking she might love Sombra back. And that’s good if she does, and astronomically bad if she doesn’t. Because honesty. Widow doesn’t lie to Sombra often. Sombra doesn’t care if Widow lies about work since she could find out if she really wanted to but, out of all Talon personnel, she is the farthest from a Talon loyalist and couldn’t give less of a damn about its goals.

Otherwise, though, Widow doesn’t hide much from Sombra. Maybe if Sombra makes Widow feel vaguely embarrassed about something, Widow will try to hide it just to save face, but Sombra sees through that like glass and Sombra almost never means to make Widow feel like that, never maliciously. So, it makes it okay. It does.

Widow can’t say the same.

Other people’s misfortune, especially brought about by her own hand, makes her happy. Makes her feel powerful. She can’t help it if an impulse to be cruel seizes her. It doesn’t come up with Sombra except when she feels cornered and that’s when she feels uncertain and out of her element.

Sombra is excellent at provoking those feelings. Again, Widow doesn’t experience feelings the way Sombra does, so it’s okay sometimes. Only sometimes.

The first time Sombra had said she loved Widow, Widow had called her stupid and left her in the cold. And Widow knew, immediately, that it hurt Sombra.

She knew it would be best for the health of their relationship if she apologized and explained herself, but there wasn’t a strong desire to do that, so she had left it until Sombra came and gave Widow a piece of her mind. After that, Widow had indeed explained, slowly, off kilter, mildly irritated.

It’s a mess. Widow doesn’t mind a mess but it’s not good for relationships and Widow wants to maintain this one. Wants to clean it up, knows which tools to use to do so, knows how to use those tools. Doesn’t, in the end, have access to some of them.

Sombra must know this. Sombra does know this.

Still, Sombra insists on telling Widow she loves her.

Widow can’t stand it.

Widow tries to stand it.

“That’s love, Spider.”

Widow scoffs at the thought.

When she was young, her parents got her a fish and Widow had tried to take care of it and failed spectacularly. The fish had died within two days. Trying isn’t sufficient.

She hardly succeeds, with Sombra.

She can do the easy things, the small things that don’t inspire feelings of triumph from Widow. If Sombra wants to be held, Widow will do it. If Sombra wants a sounding board, Widow will get comfortable. If Sombra wants to fuck with Gabriel, Widow won’t snitch.

She fails, however, if Sombra needs anything close to emotional literacy. Sombra isn’t perfect either, she knows. She is painfully aware.

Sombra is presumptuous and arrogant. Sombra asks for too much. She doesn’t care about Talon, and Talon is the reason for Widow’s existence. She makes everything a joke, just under half of which fly over Widow’s head. Flaunts what she has and what is wholly unattainable for Widow.

It feels like a test of Widow’s compliance. Endurance, really. Certainly not love.

“Love can be about endurance.”

It can. Widow knows all these things could count. Should count, considering. But she wants to do better, be better. And she also doesn’t because she can’t and it’s unfair that she should be unhappy with herself for something she cannot fundamentally change.

She’s a bit resentful. She’s a bit tired. She’s a bit unhappy and a bit apathetic about all those things. Never a lot of anything. So, relatively speaking, it’s significant that she feels this way.

But then, full circle, it’s about endurance. She will endure those feelings. For Sombra.

Sombra who endures, always. Whose entire life has been about endurance. Does it as easily as breathing. Sombra is strong and smart, and those aren’t things Widow inherently likes about Sombra.

Widow likes the way those qualities make her life better. Sombra solves problems and does things for her.

If she loves Sombra, then it would be because Sombra loved her first. Does it the best because no one else loves Widow and there’s no competition, really.

And is that fucked up? Is that wrong?

Should she care? Liking someone because they like you doesn’t exactly measure up to terrorizing entire peoples, which she does for almost no money or other benefits other than her own enjoyment and a few more hours with Sombra which, again, is also for her own enjoyment.

Widow looks down at Sombra and thinks in cycles.

Her eyes are closed and she’s snoring, head in Widow’s lap. Widow cards her fingers through Sombra’s hair and feels heady with power.

If Widow could be a better person, she wouldn’t want to be, she doesn’t think. Except when it comes to Sombra. Because if Widow could love Sombra back, she would.

#spiderbyte #overwatch #spiderbytefics

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matchasprouts · 3 years ago

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The Walls - Chapter 4

[ holy SHIT it took forever for me to finish this chapter but here it is! sorry for the wait y'all, i just moved into my dorm and my brain has been scrampled egg bc of it. anyway!!!! enjoy some more Felix brain <3 ]

First || Next || Previous || Last

Felix stayed in his room until he heard the shower turn on, followed by the attic door opening and the ladder coming down. The attic was never unlocked, not in all the time he had been there. So he opened his door and peeked out, unsurprised to find the hall empty but worried about the open attic.

Until he realized that this would be Greta’s punishment, and there was no way in hell he was going to hurt in trying to stop it.

He considered just closing his door and ignoring it, but he was too close to the attic. So, he instead went downstairs to the parlour and sat down at the piano. He wouldn’t play it- he didn’t want Greta to hear and come down, or for Malcolm to hear him when he got here- instead just waiting.

At some point, he became vaguely aware of the shuffling in the wall nearest to him, before it stopped relatively close to him. The thing probably wanted reassurance that he wouldn’t try to stop it. To some extent, this was a threat.

“I won’t do anything,” he promised, voice loud enough for it to hear but still soft enough that Greta couldn’t. The shower turned off as he turned his head to the wall. “You know me better than that. I don’t want to be punished alongside her.”

It seemed satisfied with that, giving him three gentle knocks on the wall and a boyish giggle. He hated the child voice it used, like it was mocking him. It sent uncomfortable shivers down his spine- he loathed being scared.

But he kept his promise. When he heard Greta call out for him upstairs, he stayed put. The closing of the attic wasn’t very loud, but he could faintly hear it, and Greta’s scream from fright. He still stayed put.

Six years. Six years without him breaking a rule or personally facing the thing’s wrath. There was no way in hell he would change that now, no matter how nice Greta seemed.

He turned to the covered window when he heard Malcolm’s car pull up. So, the thing locked her in the attic so she couldn’t go with him? That was the most extreme he’d seen from it thus far, the worst he’d seen it do was lock him in his own bedroom once when he’d talked about meeting a friend in town.

He’d honestly just thought it was a fright tactic at first, but this made sense. It would probably let her out in the morning.

…. He decided to sleep downstairs that night, only staying in the house because someone would need to wake up Brahms.

---

Felix ended up falling asleep on the couch that night, after listening for hours to Greta banging around in the attic and Malcolm continuously ringing the doorbell for a good fifteen to twenty minutes before finally leaving.

He was surprised enough when he woke up to the doll sitting right in front of him that he jolted up into a sitting position and grabbed the nearest weapon- a book. It took only half a second for him to realize it was just Brahms and let out a heavy sigh.

“Suppose you didn’t want to wait until I came and woke you up, huh?” he asked the doll, surprised to see that it was about an hour before he was supposed to be woken up. Whatever. He was probably just impatient.

Felix could accept that a little boy wouldn’t want to wait for his nanny to be let out of the attic, or for the groundskeeper to come wake him up, so he didn’t question it. Instead, he just picked the doll up and moved over into the kitchen to make breakfast.

He glanced at the door when Greta appeared downstairs, looking frazzled and panicked with her clothes messy and looking like they were thrown on in two seconds flat.

It locked her in still in the towel? He felt a little bad now, giving Greta a sympathetic look that immediately outed him as “in on” the plan.

“You knew!?” she snapped at him, and he was lucky he didn’t flinch. “And- and you just let it happen!? What’s wrong with you! I thought I was going to be stuck in there forever!! A whole fucking night, locked in that awful attic!”

Felix had tuned her out at that point, watching as she went off on him in a frenzied state. When she finally calmed down enough to fall quiet, he spoke up.

“You broke the rules, Greta,” he said, his voice much softer than it had been last night when he snapped at her. “I warned you. I told you that you would be punished. You were the one who chose not to listen.

Greta stared at him for a few moments, before replying in a shaky voice. “So you did nothing? You could have helped me, at least a little bit.”

Felix shook his head. As much as he loathed admitting it, he was terrified of the thing in the walls. He’d seen it leave an entire room trashed in two minutes flat, once found a dead rat hanging from the ceiling as a warning, and knew that it watched him at night while he slept.

It reminded him of his mother.

So, he stayed out of its way. And he would continue to do so. “You don’t understand. That thing… it’s not human, Greta. If it wanted me dead it could make that wish come true in an instant. I wouldn’t even see it coming.”

After standing there for a long, silent moment, Greta sat down at the dining room table, in front of the plate Felix had made for her. “So there’s nothing we can do…?” she asked, sounding broken and tired.

“Unfortunately,” Felix replied, deciding to forgo breakfast when Greta began to softly cry. “Just follow the rules, and you’ll be alright. It likes when you’re nice to Brahms- I would suggest treating him like a real child from now on. Like I do.”

He gave her one last look over before heading outside to get to work. As he grabbed his gloves, he really wished he hadn’t glanced at the hole in the wall.

Because he did not like the eye staring back at him.

---

After his encounter with the all-too human eye of the thing that lived in the Heelshire’s walls, Felix spent the whole rest of his day outside, even when there was no longer any gardening to be done.

When he was close enough to windows, he could see Greta carrying the doll around, taking care of him as she was supposed to. He supposed he was grateful for that, no longer having to take care of Brahms himself, but a little sad that she only stepped up out of fear.

He also, at some point, saw Malcolm pull up. He was likely here to check on Greta and see why she never showed up last night and, when he was in there for much longer than expected, he knew that Greta was telling him everything that happened.

And then the car left, and it was just the three of them again. He stayed out until the sun went down, only going inside the mansion when Greta called him for dinner. Even then, he still considered staying out for the rest of the night. Hell, he thought about going back to his cabin.

But then he remembered that Greta’s sudden change may not last, and he needed to be there if it didn’t. The Heelshire’s relied on him for that, and he couldn’t just let them down.

So he came inside and ate dinner with her, allowing silence to reign over them. They weren’t friends, they were never going to be friends, and while he was perfectly fine with it, he would admit that it was making things a little awkward.

He let her shower first, promising to “stand guard” outside of the bathroom when she practically begged him to, just to put her mind at ease. Apparently, she’d lost a dress and a necklace to the thing while she’d been showering the night before, and she didn’t want it coming in again.

When she was done, she thanked him for standing there, and he took his quick, scalding shower. He stayed in a little longer than usual, turning his skin a bit more red than he was used to.

Normally, Felix didn’t feel guilt. But Greta was nice enough, and Brahms liked her, so he genuinely felt bad for just letting her punishment happen. So, he stood there, under the water, burning.

Burning.

When he closed his eyes under the heated water, he saw flames in the darkness against his eyelids. Literal, red hot flames. Engulfing the building in front of him, killing any all living things that dared to be inside of it, screaming for the pain to stop-

He opened his eyes and shut off the water without a second thought. He stood there for a long few minutes, breathing heavily and trying to pull himself together.

Sights like that weren’t uncommon to Felix. He saw the burning house every time he closed his eyes. It haunted his nightmares, even his waking hours. It was an accident.

The other five were not.

Finally, he stepped out of the shower, dried off, and got dressed. Without realizing it, he went through his entire routine on autopilot, only snapping out of it when he was laying down in bed, and only because there was a note on his pillow.

An apology, from the thing it seemed. Telling him that it was sorry for scaring him earlier when he had seen it in the wall.

The gesture was sweet, and something Felix was used to, but now it made him uncomfortable. Still, not wanting to anger it, he added it to the drawer where he kept all the notes he received from it.

And then he went to bed, passing out from the sheer exhaustion he’d gained from working all day without a break. And since he was out so fast, he didn’t see it.

He didn’t see the tall, muscular figure that slowly and quietly came out of his closet, from the opening in the wall inside of it. It made its way over to him, the light just barely illuminating it’s porcelain white mask.

It tilted its head at the sight of him, sprawled out on his back. He didn’t usually sleep this way, but it chalked it up to exhaustion.

Most nights, it would spend about twenty minutes to an hour watching Felix as he slept. It was when he looked the most peaceful, and it liked to see him when he wasn’t all tense. Sure, it was fun to watch his muscles bunch up in anger, or fear, but this was unparalleled.

Slowly it reached out to him, brushing a strand of short hair out of his face. He didn’t react much, other than his face scrunching up for a second and relaxing again. It made it smile under the mask.

Felix was a very dear friend to the thing in the walls, having watched him work for the Heelshires day in and day out for six years, never once breaking a single rule. It sometimes wondered if he had any friends outside of the Heelshire family, due to the lack of visits, and felt rather… special that he didn’t.

It was his only friend, and it was the only friend he would ever need.

It watched him for a little while longer, entranced by the serene look on his face, before hearing Greta outside the door telling Brahms that it was time for bed. Before leaving, it leaned down and pressed a gentle, masked kiss to Felix’s forehead.

And then it was gone, leaving no trace of its presence, as if it never existed, leaving his dear friend to his fiery nightmares.

#story tag: the walls #s/i: felix shaw #brahms heelshire #self ship fic #self shipping #romantic: 🎭👁#self insert #scrap.writing #scrap.ships #chapter 4

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dastardlydandelion · 3 years ago

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Max Mayfield and Tory Nichols in a horror film, what would be the plot/monster and would they survive?

this is it. this is the tumblr ask. the ask i've been waiting for my whole life. my time to shine, here we go!

filming begins under the cut:

tried and true creature feature, this is a werewolf movie. let's go with a werewolf between the van helsing (2004) and trick r treat (2007) variety. the beast once transformed is fucking huge, clearly both lupine and human, head almost entirely wolf, body primarily bipedal in shape, but robust, sinew shredding claws and big ass bone tearing teeth. also tails!! bc tails are cute!!! powers include monstrous strength, accelerated speed, healing factor. weaknesses silver and decapitation.

okay, so van helsing (2004) werewolves are mindless rage monsters and trick r treat (2007) werewolves are cognizant. for our max & tory creature feature, they're gonna of the in between variety. i chose a werewolf movie for these two specifically bc they both have their anger problems and the werewolf has long been a symbol of anger unleashed in the horror genre, even tho common gray wolves are just like. i mean, yk, animals, they hunt and howl and pee on trees and most of the time would rather avoid humans. but obvi horror genre werewolves are not common gray wolves, they need to be scary, and like, the remnants of traditional folklore influenced by rabies and discourse in the middle ages...wait, where was i going with this? anger, yes, max and tory both have anger problems and i think this works for what i'm gonna do with this theoretical movie.

who's the werewolf in town? terry fucking silver. bc terry is evil and dramatic and also, i think it's rly funny for a werewolf to have silver as a surname. he's fully cognizant in his transformation and he's purposefully biting kids and teenagers bc he wants more talented karate students. and like. yk, with the enhanced strength, speed, and regenerative recovery of lycanthropy, well. there u have it, more talented karate students.

do max and tory know each other, if so, how? okay, so in this 'verse tory is a lil older than max. that reflects their canon ages, i think. let's say max is 13 and tory is 16. billy has tory in some of his classes and he more or less makes a deal to spilt his allowance with her if she'll babysit max bc he's tired of neil riding his ass to babysit max. tory needs money so she's like, 'sure, why not.' max finds it rly stupid that she's 13 and neil thinks she needs a fucking babysitter but as far as babysitters go, tory is fun. she likes to show max what she's learning in cobra kai and they spar together a lot. max would actually like to join cobra kai but 1) neil would throw a fit on various fronts and 2) lucas is in miyagi-do. max knows there's some rly intense beef between cobra kai and miyagi-do. ofc tory's filled her in on the karate war, how could she not?

well one day tory takes max to the playground to watch a plane fly like she does with miggy in ck, and it's nighttime, ofc, and lo, the full moon is out. shining up in the sky. they hear a howl. they both look at each other. max is kinda curious but tory's like nah, nah, we gotta go. she grabs her, starts pulling her along. but the next howl is a lot closer and they can hear smth running and it just sounds fuckin big. they're running too now, legs pumping hard, but there's no escape once the beast is right behind them, hot, rancid breath blasting the backs of their necks and harvest gold eyes glowing in the dark.

max gets bitten first. tory tries to kick the big ass beast off of her and then it rounds and bites her too. the terror is real now. and then shockingly, as fast as it'd come, it leaves. neither girl has an explanation for wtaf just happened but tory takes max home. billy gripes at her for being out late but helps her patch up. when susan learns what happens she decides to take max to get rabies shots right away. loads her up in the car, runs her off to the emergency room-- but when the bandages come off, they are no wounds.

tory's bby bro tries to help patch her up too. but he's like 4 yrs old and his idea of "help" is sticking bandaids with cartoon characters up and down the wounds in haphazard fashion. tory plans to redo it all properly once she's put him to bed. sure enough after he's asleep, and she peels the bandaids off from every open mouthed pac-man to every green teenage mutant ninja turtle, the wounds are gone.

meanwhile there's missing ppl err day on the news. terry turns kids and teens but kills adults for the lulz.

tory and max know what happened to them was an event that tangibly, definitely happened but neither have any explanation for their wounds just disappearing. max, our resident horror fan, is the first to propose a real life werewolf as an explanation. she cites the missing ppl on the news. tory thinks she's tripping balls but reluctantly gives an inch when she acknowledges no, she can't think of any other explanation.

life goes on. max tells lucas what happened only she leaves out the part abt tory bc she's not gonna tell a miyagi-do student she's kickin it w the enemy. he doesn't rly believe her, like how she didn't rly believe him about the upside-down in their canon. he thinks the horror movies are rotting her brain.

tory almost tells her dojo but she gets distracted being pissed off by sam and that should be her priority, right? sensei kreese is always going on abt getting back at the enemy. she spends her shifts daydreaming abt revenge bc it's more comforting than worrying abt past due bills and her mother looking paler by the day.

full moon next month comes around. neither tory nor max are cognizant of or during their first respective transformations. max's first kill is neil. she's seven feet of fur and fury, tears his ribcage open with claws like daggers and sinks her teeth into his putrid, maggoty heart. susan isn't home. billy is, but he doesn't hear any of the fracas. he's unconscious on the living room floor, crisscrossing impressions of neil's belt buckle blaring red on his back.

tory's first kill is sam. sam larusso wants to think she's a bully?? fine, tory will show her a bully. she hops the miyagi-do fence after hours. she just wants a fight. just a fight, they always fight. but then she's sprouting fur and tory as tory gives way to smth else. she'd not aware of being a person when she doesn't have fur. not really, all she knows is rage and ravenousness and the morsel below her has bunny rabbit wide eyes.

neither of them remember what they did the next day. not vividly, anyway. it's there but it's cloudy and hard to discern, like a groggy fever dream more than a memory. but max burps up neil's wedding band and tory finds señor octopus (sam's stuffed animal) bloodied in her bed. it's apparent what happened. max accepts this more easily than tory bc 1) she always kind of suspected she'd turn, since she sincerely considered what attacked them was a werewolf and 2) max isn't terribly upset abt killing neil while tory is acutely horrified she killed sam.

max kinda had some smidgen of attachment to neil bc like, he's the only father figure in her life and here and there they've had their moments. but his abuse (psychological/physical toward billy, sexual/financial/psychological/emotional toward susan, psychological/emotional toward herself) outweighed any and all of those moments. she is genuinely concerned that she tore a human being to pieces and only vaguely remembers it but like, if she had to kill anyone, she figures neil was the best to kill. max is mostly concerned bc she can't kill neil a second time. she's worried the next time she turns it could be an innocent person, or one of her friends, or her mom, or billy.

tory is blindsided and scarcely able to comprehend the reality, holy shit, max was right, she's a fuckin werewolf. and she's sick to her stomach bc she hated sam but she never wanted to do anything like that. she didn't want to kill, she just wanted to break her face. scare her. rough her up. she didn't want to eat her. she just killed someone. she's a literal horror movie monster and she just killed sam. what's miguel going to think?

tory and max talk. they decide they need to find the werewolf who turned them. we get montages of them going over the news articles with a fine-toothed *ba dum tss* comb and searching areas where it seems like a werewolf would be. the woods. some caves. max all of a sudden has a freakishly tall man constantly hounding her to join cobra kai. neil's gone but she still hesitates bc of lucas being in miyagi-do. also he believes max now and with the proff, she's decided to let the rest of the party in as well. they also exist in this 'verse. she showed them the crime scene and the wedding band she burped up. billy isn't a roid rage racist in this 'verse bc that would be a giant buzzkill. he doesn't believe the werewolf shit either. he thinks max saw neil get attacked by some animal and that the carnage was so traumatizing for her, she subconsciously created a werewolf fantasy to cope.

tory meanwhile spirals downward. bc she passes sam's memorialized locker in the hall everyday. her memorial table in the other hall, full of sticky note condolences and mournful teddy bears, and a picture of sam right in the center always, always accusing her. miggy is heartbroken and distraught. hawk didn't care for sam but even he's freaked out by what happened, how the news said there were only torn up chunks and bones picked clean found in her bedroom. tory is terrified of herself. she's desperate to find whoever did this bc she wants to make them pay. if sensei silver has been asking her extra questions lately and presenting her performance to the class more than normal, she doesn't notice at all. aisha notices tory's fucked up but tory can't exactly tell aisha that she *ate* sam. aisha is also mourning, she and sam used to be bffs. so she doesn't say a word.

max has a theory that if u can learn to control ur anger, u can learn to control urself when u shift. she is, after all, v familiar with angry horror movie werewolves. and she's savvy enough to know it's smth she and tory have in common. neil is dead but that doesn't mean max isn't angry anymore. she's still angry at the damage already done and tbh also angry that there's some werewolf around turning ppl willy nilly bc she recognizes the danger in that and it wasn't smth she consented to. but controlling ur anger is an easier feat for max than tory insofar that max has a support system w her friends, and better relationships with the remainder of her fam. tory has two mentors actively, adamantly teaching her and her friends to be ruthless, view the world as ur enemy, use violence as ur go-to solution, and that mercy is weakness not to be tolerated.

when the next full moon rolls around, they decide to spend it together under the correct inference that they will transform. they think it's better to be together. they're hoping they'll be able to control each other, if not themselves. or that if they are both mindless rage monsters again, that rage will be turned on each other. this would be a better outcome operating on the presumption that one werewolf will be able to take what another can dish out, at the v least more so than a regular human being.

max is successfully able to maintain enough of her consciousness to control her actions once transformed. she feels aggressive and hungry, but not enraged and ravenous. she can keep it in check. tory, on the other hand, uh...tory can't do it. she throws her wolf head back in the most bloodcurdling howl ever and takes off like a bat outta hell. max goes loping after her. they can't speak like human speak in this form, but max tries to communicate with her. whimpers plaintively. tackles tory at one point, not out of anger but just tryna subdue her, licks at her ears and tries to get her to settle. tory bucks her off.

tory runs off again, max in pursuit. they wind up at the skate park where billy n robby are prolly up to some fuckery or another. i could easily see pre miyagi-do robby n billy getting up to all kinds of mischief. ooh, actually, they're prolly arguing abt that. now that robby's in miyagi-do he has another outlet for all his energy and he's getting the positive attention he craves so he's not participating in hooligan activity or shenanigans w billy anymore and billy is like. offended. except suddenly there's werewolves. fucking. snarling, gigantic, toothy, hairy ass werewolves.

let's say robby kicked miguel down two stories in this 'verse too and tory recognizes him in her werewolf form even if she isn't exactly cognizant of herself. she tears straight for him, jaws open. billy doesn't exactly *mean* to protect him but it's kinda an automatic reaction from putting himself in between whenever he thought neil was getting too aggressive w susan or max. and like, sure, robby's the better fighter (not that billy would ever acknowledge this) but it's not like he's gonna karate kick the motherfuckin werewolf anyway-- billy is bigger, he's bigger and it's instinct and the next thing he knows, he's in between robby and the thing w sharp teeth (tory).

and that's when max gets serious. she bowls tory over, away from billy before she can bite. they're rolling, tearing at each other with teeth and claws. lo and behold, terry silver is lurking in the background like the evil mastermind he is, just watching them shred each other and evaluating his experiment. it's a p close match and tory is the more aggressive of the two but she's also been going, going, going since she shifted and she's burning herself out. she's also fighting with the blind instinct of a threatened animal while max maintains more precision bc she has better control of herself. max also isn't wasting energy unnecessarily. max gets her jaws around tory's throat and tory just goes slack. but she can think and she doesn't want to hurt tory, so she opens her mouth and relaxes her maw, teeth grazing harmlessly thru tory's fur.

tory's being shown mercy. possibly for the first time. it's so unlike her conception of others' ruthlessness, so unlike the worldview that's been instilled into her that it startles her enough to crack thru to her cognizance. she does the wolfy deference thing where they tuck their tails and lick at the dominant pack member's muzzle. max responds in kind and lets tory up.

this is when they notice terry lurking (billy's already worked out the werewolf that came to his defense is max so he's just dumbfounded watching all this shit, and robby's not abt to leave someone who just saved his ass, so he's stuck unsuccessfully tryna pull billy away and inevitably watching too). terry calmly slinks over, sizing up his charges. he's pleased with the performance. but tory and max are anything but, another werewolf fight ensues.

so while they all get huge after transforming sheerly on the basis of being werewolves, i'm gonna guess the size is proportionate to their human forms. so tory is a little larger than max and terry significantly outsizes them both. terry is also the more experienced werewolf. it's two against one but it's not the curbstop it would be if this was some weaksauce werewolf, it's dramatic evil karate werewolf terry fuckin silver. terry's shredding tf outta these two. their healing factor can't keep up, he's dishing out faster than either of them can recover and tbh they were already winded from fighting each other first.

but it'd be a major buzzkill if our movie had a downer ending. and also, the power of determination and friendship and shit. terry's got his jaws around max's throat now. he's a millisecond away from tearing it open. tory's pinned under him but she thinks fast, frees a hind leg, and rips her claws down his soft underbelly as deep as she can and doesn't stop ripping, like pedal kicking almost for a human, but with her hind claws. his intestines shoot out like paper snakes from a gag candy can!! okay, well, maybe they don't shoot out w that much gusto, but still. the bowels are free, the bowels are hanging low and tory's tearing 'em tf up, fluids n fecal matter errywhere. on tory. i'm sorry tory. ur under him, that's just how gravity works.

terry dies. healing factor can't keep up with the damage done, it's too critical. but nobody knows it's terry until the dawn breaks and he reverts back to his human shape.

max is v much 'i told u so,' in billy's face. robby promises not to tell. he doesn't want to get mauled or killed or anything. tory's able to cope better with what she did to sam knowing that it won't happen again, that she won't hurt anyone else she doesn't want to be she can control herself now. tory believes in mercy now bc max spared her, she trashes kreese's philosophy and joins eagle fang when johnny and daniel join forces in this 'verse too. max also joins eagle fang, takes her place in the front row right between tory and lucas at her v first practice.

credits roll.

after the credits we see tory considering turning her mother in the hopes that having the healing factor would help her mom's condition improve.

is that a teaser for the sequel?

idfk.

#max mayfield #dare i tag tory #i dare not #lucdarling #ask box #my fic tag #i kind of want to write this as a fic for real #fuck

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lesbianlovelanguage · 4 years ago

Note

hi!! u asked for prompts!! how about experiment!steve nd the party and billy finding out? u chose his abilities:-)

Hey nonny!! I had SO MUCH fun writing this, thank you so much for the awesome prompt. I hope you like it :)

Also putting in a cut bc this is like over 3k

Nancy and Jonathan-

Steve was so, so tired as he rolled up to the Byer’s house. The entire three hours he had spent erasing that stupid ass graffiti, he had thought about how to make it up to Nancy. He realized that the first move had to be apologizing to Byers. Besides that, what he had said really was fucked up, no matter how much Nancy had hurt him. It definitely wasn’t his place to say anyone else’s family is screwed up either, not with his history.

With a huff, he clambered out of his car and hustled up to the front door. Something didn’t feel right, but he shrugged that off to the fact that it was so dark outside. He reached the front door, and began pounding.

“Jonathan! Are you there man? It’s… It’s Steve! Listen, I just wanna talk.” He heard some shuffling as he continued to pound on the door, but pulled his fist away as he heard the chain lock being pulled.

“Nancy?” This was going to be so much harder if she was here, shit.

“Steve. You need to leave.”

“No, no I’m not trying to start shit, okay?”

“That’s not important Steve. I don’t care.” Fuck, he really fucked up didn’t he?

Nancy began to close the door, and with it he saw any chance of apologizing and making up for his actions disappearing.

“No, no, no, Nanc, please, I-” He pounded on the door both in frustration and to try and get her to stop closing it. “I messed up, okay? I messed up, and- and I’m sorry. I just want to make things right.” He took a deep breath and looked up into Nancy’s eyes. All he saw there was sadness and anxiety though, and he quickly looked away.

And noticed the thick Ace bandage wrapped around her hand.

“Wh-what happened to your hand?” He reached to grab it, but she pulled away.

“Nothing! It was an accident,” she tried to explain, but Steve had been with her long enough to recognize when she was lying. A terrible thought dawned on him

“Did he do this to you? Nance, let me,” he began pushing on the door, “let me in, Nancy.” She tried to fight, but with one final push he barged into the darkened living room of the Byers’ house. The only thing he noticed was a fucking baseball bat with nails, and then Jonathan was in his face, yelling about how he needed to leave. They were in the middle of scuffling when he heard a click, and Nancy pointed a gun in his face.

“Steve, get out,” she said, tone deadly serious.

All of his instincts were screaming to run, but he couldn’t just leave Nancy behind, he loved her.

“Thi- this is a joke right? Nance, put the gun down.”

“You have five seconds to leave. I’m doing this for you,” and then his instincts really began going haywire. She was counting down slowly, Jonathan was screaming at her, and the fucking christmas lights began flickering. It was as if they were some sort of signal, as Nancy stopped counting and Jonathan dove for the baseball bat. They were looking for something, but all there was were the damn lights.

“Hello, will someone please explain what the fu-” Before he could finish demanding answers, a thing straight out of nightmares began bursting through the ceiling, and Nancy and Jonathan were booking it down the hallway. There was nothing he could do but run after them.

They all piled into a bedroom at the end of the hall, but there still were no answers as Nancy and Jonathan stared at the door waiting for that thing to burst through.

But then the flashing lights stopped and the house went silent.

For the first time since he burst through the front door, Steve said nothing as they all crept out of the bedroom into the dark hallway. They made it all the way back out to the living room, but the house was empty except for them.

“This is crazy,” Steve whispered at first, but continued to repeat with more franticness in his voice as he lunged for the phone he saw hanging on the wall. He had just managed to dial 9-1-1 when Nancy ripped it out of his hands and threw it away from them.

“It’s going to come back,” she shouted. “So you need to leave. Right. Now.” Steve took a deep breath and looked between the two of them.

“No,” he said, trying to hide the shakiness of his voice. All he got for his defiance though was the two of them physically pushing him out the front door. Not wanting to be caught outside in the dark with that monster, he booked it to his car, but just as he was climbing into the front seat, he saw the lights in the house begin to flicker again.

It was coming back.

He charged back towards the house without a second thought, but as he ran, he felt something stirring within him. A feeling he had long ago pushed away, ever since the Harringtons decided to buy him from the lab.

Between one step and the next, he found himself shifting. By the time he burst through the front door, he was no longer human, but rather a lion acting on instinct to protect his pride.

It seemed that he had arrived just in time too, as Jonathan lay prone on the ground and Nancy was backed into a corner. Acting on the howling demands of his hindbrain, Steve lept at the monster, bearing his teeth in a fearsome growl, and knocked it away from her. He tumbled with it to the ground and began blindly swiping at it with his claws. He forced it down the hallway, where he vaguely remembered a bear trap lay waiting, and with one final leap, pushed it into the jaws of the trap. He turned back and growled at the two people standing behind him, looking confused and scared, but a fearsome scream from the monster kicked Jonathan back into motion as he rushed forward and chucked the lighter at the gas puddle by the monster’s feet. All three of them watched in awe for a moment as the thing burst into flames, and then Jonathan was running to grab a fire extinguisher and the ball of flames was doused with a cloud of chemicals that irritated Steve’s sensitive nose. The house was filled with coughing and panting as they tried to look through the fog and see if the monster had been defeated.

All that remained was a pile of bubbling ooze coating the closed bear trap.

All three of them breathed a sigh of relief at the sight. It was over. They had won.

With the danger gone, Steve felt the same sensation roll over him and then he was once again standing on two feet. He winced as he heard two shocked inhales behind him and turned to face the two other teens.

“Tada,” he said weakly.

“What. The actual. Fuck.” Jonathan panted, but Nancy simply stared at him with her mouth agape.

Steve shifted awkwardly on the balls of his feet, still trying to readjust to the sudden shift after five years of trying to push that part of him away, and then realized he was naked.

“Could I- uh, could I borrow some sweats?” He asked Jonathan.

The Party-

“Nance, I’m still not sure about this. They all hate me.”

“Steve,” Nancy sighed. They had been having this argument all morning. “They don’t hate you. They don’t know you, there’s a difference. But you helped us defeat that demogorgon and that makes you part of the group.”

“But Nanc-”

“No but Nance. Now c’mon, we’re gonna be late.” They both piled into Steve’s BMW and headed to the other side of town, where the Byers lived, and where the party decided to hold a little Christmas party.

They got out, and Steve offered to grab the presents out of the backseat while Nancy went ahead to say hi to everyone. She agreed reluctantly, shooting him a look.

He opened the backseat and took a shaky breath. He couldn’t believe he let Nancy talk him into this, but once she found out that he would spend the holidays alone because his parents decided that a beach resort in Aruba was a better choice, she wouldn’t budge. Everyone would be there, she had promised as if that would make him feel less nervous. Even the girl who Mike had apparently been hiding in his basement.

After taking a few breaths and grabbing the basket they had decided to put everyone’s gifts in, he headed into the Byers, still feeling his stomach roil with nerves.

The first person he was bombarded with was a short kid with wild curly hair and a wide smile.

“I heard you helped Jonathan and Nancy take out a demogorgon! They said you were wicked killed with a baseball bat.” Steve looked up and made eye contact with Nancy. That’s the story they went with?

“Yep,” he chuckled. “That- uh, that’s me.” The curly haired boy’s eyes widened.

“That’s awesome!” He crowed, turning back around to run and tell the other children gathered around the coffee table. He recognized Nancy’s little brother, Mike, and he had a vague recollection of the other two younger boys, but then he saw the only girl in the middle of the boys. That must be the girl Mike had been hiding. She looked up at the curly-haired boy as he went charging over, but Steve couldn’t get a good look at her as he was pulled away by Nancy into the kitchen. He dutifully followed her in to meet Joyce Byers and Chief Hopper. Joyce then pulled him into helping her finish up the dinner as she rambled about helping to save their house and how thankful she was that he had shown up to help Nancy and Jonathan.

Eventually, dinner was finished, and he was tasked with gathering the children as Joyce and Chief Hopper set the small kitchen table. He walked back over to the living room, and was finally able to see the girl’s face.

Not only was it a face he recognized, but one that haunted his nightmares almost every night. Granted he hadn’t seen her in the five years he had been free, but he would always remember the wide, brown eyes that had stared up at him with so much innocence and youth, so exotic within the labs.

Eleven. The girl he had considered a younger sister, only to have abandoned when she needed him most. Of course, it hadn't been his choice, but the guilt of leaving her alone in that place had weighed on him for years.

Memories flashed before his eyes, shared meals and playtime, big trusting eyes looking up at him as he soothed her after a particularly terrible nightmare, the screams as she was dragged down that damn sterile hallways towards whatever hellish trial they decided to put her through that day. All of these and so many more terrible memories flooded the forefront of his mind and he started to cry. Fell to his knees and spread his arms wide. Feeling El throw her thin too thin body at him only made him cry that much harder, but it also felt as if a weight had been lifted from his chest. His sister was safe.

After a few minutes he finally calmed down enough to register the fact that El was running her small hand through his hair and murmuring happy little cries of “Six, you’re here. I found you.”

It was another few moments before he realized he was whispering back, broken apologies and platitudes as he squeezed her as tight as he could, as if when he let go she would disappear.

Finally, after what had felt like seconds and centuries all in one, he loosened his hold and pulled back. He first looked at El and took a second to wipe a stray tear from her cheek, before looking up around the room.

Nancy and Jonathan, seeming to have put two and two together, stood looking heartbroken for the two, while everyone else gathered in the ruined living room of the Byers house looked confused and mildly concerned.

Hopper, who had appeared when Steve had first begun crying, was the first person to step forward. He cleared his throat before speaking.

“I- uh- I think I’m missing something here, but I think I also speak for all of us when I sa-”

“What the fuck is happening?” the curly-haired boy from before interjected. Hopper glared at the boy, but then turned back to stare at Steve. Before he could figure out what to say, El stood up from his loose embrace and turned towards the group.

“Six,” she said determinedly, “big brother.” Then, as if that solved everything, she turned back around and sat back in his lap.

If anything though, her three word explanation brough even further scrutiny from the people surrounding them, so Steve cleared his throat.

“So, um, five years ago the Harringtons decided they wanted a kid, an heir to the business dynasty or some sh- thing, but Mrs. Harringrove didn’t want to go through pregnancy. Mr. Hargrove happened to hear whisperings of ‘special children’ and after some heavy lawyering, they ended up with yours truly. Then of course, they found out that ‘special’ meant ‘lab-rats’ and wanted nothing to do with me.”

As he finished the quick and easy version of events that drastically changed his life, silence swallowed the living room and made Steve feel like he was suffocating. And then it was broken by a loud yell of “We have two superhero friends?”

As if a spell had been broken, life flooded back into the house as the kids surrounded Steve until Joyce called out that it was dinner time.

Dinner was a small, casual affair. All of the kids were too busy inhaling the food to ask more questions, and the adults seemed to be biting their tongues. After the food had been cleared away, Steve excused himself, and stumbled out the front door to sit on the patio and have a smoke.

He was halfway through his cigarette when he heard the heavy wooden door swing open and thick boots trudge up behind him. Hopper was then sitting next to him.

“Not the best habit there.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, offering nothing else. Hopper sighed.

“Listen, kid,” he started before sighing again, and doing something Steve never would have expected in a million years.

He pulled him into a hug. A short one for sure, but still a hug.

“You’ll be okay.”

Maybe he would be, maybe he wouldn’t, but finally, Steve felt that maybe, just maybe, he had finally found a family.

Billy-

Steve was five seconds away from screaming.

Not only was he stuck in a house with four middle schoolers who were just as anxious as him, but he also had to ignore the fact that El was in imminent danger. She was out there risking her life to save the world, and he was stuck on babysitter duty. Of course, it had made sense when they were all brainstorming a plan of attack, but the reality of what it would mean hadn’t set in until El and Hopper were already far away.

He had been in the kitchen, trying to prepare a snack to hopefully relieve some of the anxiety when he heard Lucas.

“Mike, would you just stop already?”

“You weren’t in there. That lab is swarming with hundreds of those dogs.” Steve tried to ignore the way his heart raced at the reminder of where El was headed and stepped into the living room to diffuse the mounting tension.

“Listen, dude, a coach calls a play in a game, bottom line, you execute it, right?” He tried to reason.

“Okay, first of all this isn’t some stupid sports game,” as if he needed a reminder of the absolute shit situation they were all in, “and second of all, we’re not even in the game. We’re on the bench.”

Steve tried to rebound, but what do you say to that? How do you comfort a small gaggle of preteens?

“Right, we’re on the bench, so there’s nothing we can do,” he tried, feeling it fall flat even as he said it.

“Actually,” Dustin chimed in, “That’s not entirely true.” Then they all gathered again to plan a hair-brained scheme that would end with them all dying, and Steve couldn’t get a word in edgewise.

“Hey! Hey! This is not happening,” he said, putting every ounce of authority he could muster in his voice. Once he finally had all of their attention, he continued. “This is so not happening. I promised to keep you shitheads safe, and that’s exactly what I plan on.” Mike just rolled his eyes and continued planning, but Dustin turned to Steve.

“Steve, buddy, don’t you want to help El?” Steve winced, and at the sign of weakness, Dustin went for the jugular. “We could save her. You promised to protect her. So, protect her.”

He opened his mouth, unable to put together an argument, when they all heard the loud roar of an engine revving outside.

The new girl, Max, ran to the front window in a panic, muttering about how ‘he can’t find us here, he’ll kill us.’ Well, shit.

Steve pushed his way to the front of the window and watched as a blue camaro pulled in next to his BMW. This night couldn’t get any worse.

He pushed the kids out of the window and went to confront the biggest douche in Hawkins.

“Am I dreaming, or is that you Harrington?” Billy smirked as he blew out a big cloud of smoke.

“Yeah, it’s me. Don’t cream your pants.” They squabled back and forth, Billy waving his cigarette around obnoxiously, and then he saw his sister in the window and all hell broke loose.

He charged forward, pushing Steve out of the way and charging through the front door. Steve scrambled up after him, and followed hot on his heels. For some reason, Billy targeted Lucas, and Steve saw red.

“You’re dead Sinclaire.”

“No, you are,” Steve said from behind him and then swung. He felt his knuckles connect with the hard bone of Billy’s cheek. He came back up, laughing like a maniac.

“You got some fire in you after all! I’ve been waiting to meet this King Steve everyone’s been telling me so much about,” Billy sneered, blood pouring out of his nose.

But then they heard an ungodly squelching sound, followed by snarling.

A demodog burst through the open front door and lunged for the huddle of kids by the door, and without a thought as to how Billy would react, Steve yelled at the kids to duck, and then shifted. He leapt over the group and landed on four golden paws.

With a mighty roar, Steve charged the demodog and began to fight it, scratching and biting blindly as he tried to kill it. He felt its own claws dig into his side, leaving dark, deep gashes. They were a pretty even match, every attack met with an equally feral response, and Steve could feel himself wearing out. He needed this to end, soon.

As if she had read his mind, suddenly Max was standing next to him and trying to swing the nail bat at the fucker. Steve managed to disengage long enough for her to raise the bat and bring it swiftly down on the monster’s head without himself getting smashed too. Black blood splattered everywhere, matting Steve’s fur and Max’s hair.

It felt as if everyone held their breath as they waited for the demodog to rise again. Moments passed in complete silence until finally, Billy felt safe enough to call out.

“So King Steve is also king of the jungle?”

----

tag team: @lostnoise @gideongrace @stevefuckingharrington @a-magey @trashmouth-hargrove @catharrington @trashycatarcade @myboyfriendsteve @thesummerof84 @lightsupinthenorth (lmk if you would like to be added/removed from the list!)

#tay writes #stranger things #steve harrington #experiment!steve harrington #harringrove #if you squint #or i guess #pre-harringrove

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furyfought · 3 years ago

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abernathy is a small town, surely you’ve met AGATHA KLEIN ; they can be a little IRREVERENT & OPPORTUNISTIC but have no fear , the TWENTY SEVEN year old definitely makes up for it by being IMPISH & SENSITIVE . most of the time anyway . they’re usually seen around KLEIN & ASSOCIATES, LLC , as a CRIMINAL DEFENSE ATTORNEY . you know, i hear they’re affiliated with the local mc, iron kings as an ATTORNEY . they’ve got this vibe of A HEART GROWN RAVENOUS, A CYANIDE CENTER ENCAPSULATED BY SACCHARINE FRUIT, AND A SOUL IN THE FORM OF A SCRIBBLE WITH FANGS going on , makes them easily recognizable.

loosely inspired by jennifer check (jennifer's body), wendy byrde (ozark), ginger fitzgerald (ginger snaps), elizabeth sloane (miss sloane), john silver (black sails), & BBHMM.

+ pinterest, stats.

hey, friends. i’m devin (or dev) & very tickled to be here. agatha’s a combination of two of my favorite muses, and i can only hope that you’ll love her as much as i do. 🤎

"𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄, 𝐈 𝐀𝐌 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒. 𝐍𝐎. 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓."

agatha’s story isn’t one that she likes to tell anymore. she feels it’s useless: to be defined by the actions of others, to attempt to battle the preconceived notions that run rampant regardless of what one says or does. she doesn’t want to beg for understanding anymore, or to claw her way from beneath the filth she’s made of her life. all that most know is all that she can bear to have known. the rest? it’s confetti; a meager concession in a game of chess. if you know her, is that a fact or a weapon to be used against her?

when it comes to the stories that can be told, however.. perhaps the most important is background. agatha’s an abernathy native: raised in grandiose park, flew the coop for college, only to settle back down in bordeaux apartments. klein & associates, llc. has been in her family for generations, each forefather serving increasingly questionable clients. agatha’s life, like that of many kleins before her, was already planned before she’d ever even been a thought in her parents’ minds. under her mother’s rule, there wasn’t any room for straying from that path. agatha would be smart; she would be clean; and she would be, without fail, someone. in other words, she would be her perfect replica. imagine the disappointment when agatha was anything but.

agatha’s childhood can be summed up by three things: a door slammed shut in her face, an ear-piercing howl, and the chronic longing to go home — wherever that was. it’s another thing she doesn’t talk about, another thing she tries not to think about. those three things have followed her into adulthood, but they’ve taken different forms now. no longer is agatha a child screaming her throat raw — no; now, she cries out in other more productive ways. if you were to ask her, she’d tell you that she’s a woman grown; the past is behind her, buried in the sand where it belongs. the truth is trickier, less absolute. agatha is a child in the form of a woman; forever in the midst of a metamorphosis, unsure if for better or worse. she lacks foresight & lives largely in the now. she can’t imagine a future for herself and her choices in life reflect that.

agatha succeeds because she’s pretty, powerful, and convincing. wherever she falls short, her father is sure to more than make up for it. it’s amazing what people will do for the right price, and when they want to keep certain secrets from ever seeing the light. nepotism & immense privilege have done wonders for her, but she does.. actually work hard, too. she has an incredible memory & is really good at digging for more information & making her case. if she tells you that she’s going to do something, then she’s going to do it right no matter what. she’s dogged in that way, blinded to the outside world by her stubbornness. she works long hours & values her career above all else. she thinks it’s the only sure thing she has & views it as the one stable, secure thing in her life.

agatha is lonely to the point of defect. she lacks a sense of security in her life, which is why she’s so career-focused. she genuinely thinks that the only person ever looking out for her is her dad. she becomes very predictable once you realize that she will always pick the winning team; that she will forever follow the money; and that she is always going to make the decision that most benefits her. that isn’t to say that she doesn’t have any friends omg, but.. she doesn’t really trust easily. if she trusts you and considers you near and dear to her heart, then she’ll choose you. but until she has that reassurance? you’re on your own, bro.

but like.. you literally would not know that unless you got burned by her. agatha is really good at listening and really good at playing parts for people. the thing with having no story is that she’s free to create her own. if you need a hero, she can be that. if you need a villain, she can definitely be that. she’s eerily good at getting chummy enough to make people think she’s close, only for them to realize.. they don’t actually know anything real about her? fun stuff.

i think.. her entire life is a vie for power while also wanting to let go of that desire while also being afraid of what might happen if she were to let go of that desire. she’s not tht bad. she can play decent, be a guy’s guy. and she does come off tht way. it’s jus.. underneath there’s tht like .. tht rot tht she can’t scrub away. n it rears its ugly little head smtimes. but. :^) she can be cool n shoot the shit u kno.. heheh.

anyway.. lighter stuff<3 puts the gaslight and gatekeep in girlboss. talks just like her daddy, except for when she’s in the courtroom. egocentric without ever meaning to be. (spoiler: it’s a smoke screen.) she can, must, and will find a way to twist your words into something she can make sense of. believes in mixed drink supremacy. will absolutely smoke all of your weed + play dumb about hogging the blunt. plays dumb a lot actually, until it’s time to be smart. she’s touchy-feely, but freezes up whenever someone touches her. stares — a lot. can’t ever be the person to pick you up after a rough night out, because she’s likely there with you egging you on to do one more shot. every event is a tits out event / she has to be the most overdressed person in the convenience store at all times. can, must, and will be your unsolicited sugar momma. YOU SPIL-DBFDHFDJHBF LIPSTICK IN MY VALENTINO WHITE BAG? energy. thinks everything is a competition because it is. if she loved you once then she loves you forever. thinks going 20 over the speed limit isn’t speeding, actually. a bit of an emotional anarchist. can’t actually take what she’ll dish out. teases u if she likes u. teases u if she doesn’t like u. doesn’t care abt the feud as long as she’s gettin’ tht shmoney. big fan of an emotional sucker punch.

"𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐌𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐋, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈 𝐀𝐌 𝐀𝐋𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐘 𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐋." + below are some ideas open to any & all muses no matter the age, gender, affiliation, etc !

i’ve left how she got involved with the mc totally absent from this intro bc i was hoping to plot it out! i’d love it if someone wanted to be her “in”. could be they were a childhood friend in need of help, a client she got close to, jus smth tht happened by chance.. whtever we come up with works! <3

if anyone needs an evil ex gf .. She’s Here. she will lie, cheat, scam, trash yr car, empty yr bank account.. whtvr you need, baybee<3

conversely.. not-so-evil ex gf? agatha can be nice & caring without there being a catch sometimes. maybe they still talk. maybe they’re friends. u tell me.

fwb / ex fwb? she do be sending them ‘u up?’ texts.

someone tht agatha only got close to bc she wanted them to testify/be a character witness in court oopz<3

omg actual friends pls.. ppl tht Know her. tht See her. ppl tht she cares abt n would actually do anything for. friends!!!!!!!!!!!!

agatha has “get off my lawn” energy so i think it would be very funnie if someone needed a place to crash n she let them stay at hers thinking it was temporary n then they jus.. did not leave. n she’s like 🤨 hello?

an almost smth? anything weird n awkward n unspoken tht maybe fizzled out or maybe still lingers under the surface?

agatha doesn’t have a budding drinking problem but if she does no she doesn’t but if she does then<3 drinking buddy? someone that she’s gotten into questionable shenanigans with? poor bartender tht has to deal w her trying to “help” them as she waits for her uber to come? the possibilities are endless.

agatha’s all bark n very little bite but i still think it’d be funnie if she had a hateship. jus putting tht out there<3

if yr muse wnts an ego boost via unrequited crush.. lmk. i’m willing to hulk smash all of agatha’s dignity jus for u.

omggg a dealer? >.> who said tht omg #hacked..

on n off again thingz? lorde wrote tht "i am my mother's child i'll love you til my breathing stops / i'll love you till you call the cops on me" line abt her</3

budding friendships!!!!!!! ppl tht she goes to pilates or yoga with; people she gets brunch with; ppl she keeps running into n its like heeey u :); little platonic crushes jus . all of the cute platonic thingz tht make her go wtf is this 🤨.

i mean.. if anyone wants a sugar momma.. I MEANNN..

college friends!! law school friends!! ppl she met over the summer while interning somewhere!! i left tht purposely vague, hint-hint.

tinder dates gone wrong. ghosted tinder dates. tinder thingz.

agatha’s been attending galas / banquets / office partiez for ages now so if anyone wants to be her plus one or her lil fake date... :^) could be cute. cld be angsty. world is our oyster.

speaking of which.. coworkers n maybe even a lil personal assistant would be so sexie.

#abernathyintro #omg arriving unfashionably late thirty yrs later. >.>#[vine vc] heeey.. . ..#nt rereading this. simply not strong enough. if there r errors then no there aren't<3

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just-my-sickly-pride · 5 years ago

Text

Debut || Roger Taylor x fem!Reader

summary || you’re twenty years old, a full-time uni student, and you’re living out of home. money is tight. so, naturally, you decide to sell your virginity to the highest bidder. when you get an offer from some guy in his mid-thirties, you put on your nicest dress and head on over. but there’s a problem: he has no idea who you are, or why you’ve turned up at his house at nine o’clock at night. maybe things aren’t going to be as simple as you’d hoped. modern day au.

rating || explicit, with fluff dotted throughout. 18+ only. do not read if you are under eighteen. the age gap between reader and roger is sixteen years.

word count || about 17.7k.

author’s notes || welcome one and all to my very first fic on this blog! i pictured roger circa ‘85 (specifically live aid) for this fic. this fic is also dedicated to my friend and fellow mid-thirties-Roger enthusiast Jennifer @mrfahrenhcit (i couldn’t find a way to work in everything you asked, but i’ve saved some of them for the next roger fic that’s in the works). fun fact: this is the first reader fic where i’ve used ‘Y/N’. some people have said they’d had issues with this post being extremely slow to load, or the app has crashed - i think it’s just bc it’s so long, and i apologise for the inconvenience. [i am a proud member of the anti-cross-tagging club.]

masterlist

You don’t think you’ve ever felt more nervous before in your entire life. You’ve wiped your sweaty palms on your dress ten times in the past two minutes, and your heart hasn’t stopped racing from the moment you woke up this morning.

What are you doing? Seriously, what the fuck are you doing?

Well, that’s the thing. You know exactly what the fuck you’re doing.

You aren’t doing it out of embarrassment, or anything to do with pride. You don’t feel pressured, not by anyone, not even by society, fuck society, but you saw some dumb article about it – it was hardly even an article, just gossip – and it gave you the idea, and then you were doing some research about it, just for the money, it’s just for the money, you’ve been living out of home for two years now and life’s still kicking you in the ass, so why wouldn’t you do it for money, if you could? And you can. So you went onto some website and snooped around to check for at least some sign of legitimacy, and then, well, you were making an account, and you made an account, and uploaded some photos that you never thought you’d upload to the Internet, and, a couple weeks later, you found out that someone had chosen you. Chosen you.

And now here you are.

On your way to a strange man’s house.

To lose your virginity to him.

Because he’s paid for it.

Well, he’s paid half. The other half comes… after.

And you’re not nervous about the actual sex part, you suppose, but more about the fact that you’re going to a stranger’s house for sex. Does that make you a sex worker? Could you call someone who played guitar in one gig and got paid for it, but never got paid for it again, a musician?

Probably. But maybe that isn’t the best comparison.

You don’t know much about this guy. Just his address, his name, his age – thirty-six, could be worse, to be fair – and that he’s obviously got plenty of cash to spare. And he’s definitely not the sort of guy you want to have around. Seeing as, y’know, he’s paid a twenty-year-old virgin to have sex with him.

The Uber pulls up to a stop in front of a house. It’s dark outside, almost nine in the evening, so the house is hard to make out, but it’s quite a nice place, very white-picket-fence. Something out of a magazine catalogue about the suburbs. You thank your Uber driver and grab your oversized handbag, climbing out of the car.

You close the door behind you.

The Uber drives off.

And you’re alone on the sidewalk.

You hoist the handbag onto your shoulder. It’s got a couple of things you think you’ll need – condoms, lube, two change of clothes depending on what this guy is after. You think you look more than nice enough in your heels and tight, black dress, but just in case.

You glance at your phone, double-checking the address. You send a quick message to your best friend Justine: at the house. will keep u updated.

She’s the only one who knows; and she only knows because you figured that at least someone should know, if something goes wrong.

Good God, you’re hoping nothing goes wrong. Not in that way. Not in any way, really.

And again, you’re back to asking yourself what the fuck you’re doing.

You take a deep breath, and start heading up the front path.

Your hands are shaking by the time you reach the front step, but you force yourself to raise a fist and rap your knuckles on the door. The automatic porch light is yellow, and you can’t help but feel irked by how unflattering it is.

You can hear movement inside the house. A part of you is searching for the sound of kids, although God forbid there’s any to be heard. But a guy like this… Well, your first conclusion is that he’s looking for an affair.

You really don’t want to be some kind of mistress. But, you suppose, this is really just a business transaction, so you’re free of at least most of the guilt, right? All of it, if you actually have no idea if he’s married.

Please don’t mention your wife, you pray. Don’t implicate me or whatever.

Finally, the door opens, and you feel like you’re about to throw up your heart onto your feet. But you push it down, and drink in the man in front of you.

If you weren’t sure before if he was a dad, now it’s unmistakable. He’s slim, and reasonably tall – not remarkably so, but still tall – and he’s dressed in loose jeans and a blue flannel that he has rolled up to his elbows. His hair is blond, sort of shaggy, sort of spiky, like he spends his time running his hands through it. You idly wonder what it’d feel like in your hands. Guess you’ll find out soon enough.

But the thing that really knocks your socks off is the big blue eyes that blink at you, framed by eyelashes that you’d kill to have yourself. Those eyes flash down to your outfit, and then back up at your face.

Okay. Maybe this whole thing won’t be that bad at all.

You give him your most winning smile. “Hi,” you say in a way that you hope is both alluring and professional.

He blinks at you again. “Hi,” he says, his eyes wide. His gaze flits up and down your body, like he’s trying to compute what he’s seeing in front of him. “Um, hello. What, uh– Can I help you?”

His voice is soft, softer than you were expecting. Gentle, almost.

You lick your lips and shift your feet. “I’m, ah, Mandy. Are you Roger? Taylor?” Your name is fake, of course. You’re not sure about his. Not that it matters.

“Yes, that’s me,” Roger says. He scratches the back of his head. “Uh, I’m sorry, you’re, um, lovely, but I don’t think I know you.”

Huh. Odd. Is this a foreplay thing? “We have an appointment. You booked me two weeks ago, and you gave me this date and this time,” you prompt unsurely.

Roger’s brow crumples. “An… appointment?”

You feel your face starting to heat up. You almost ask if you have the right address, but no, you already know that he’s Roger Taylor, he’s the one who booked, so you must have it right. “Yeah,” you say. “You, um…” You lower your voice a touch. “You already paid in advance. This is pretty much a done deal, but I’m just here to fulfil my end of the bargain. And then, of course, you’ll have to pay me the other half.”

Roger’s starting to look a little pale now, and you’re not quite sure what to do with that. His eyes dart down to your outfit and back up to your face. “Pay you?” he says. “I’ve– what? I’ve paid you? What did I pay you? When?”

Now you’re both embarrassed, and confused, and well, this isn’t something you’d pictured going wrong.

You suddenly feel very exposed in your tight dress and heels.

“Uh.” You scratch behind your ear. “Like, I don’t know what to tell you. You’ve booked me, and I’m here. And it wasn’t a small sum of money, so I doubt you’d want to…”

Roger’s mouth opens, and then closes, and opens again. “Oh, shit, hang on,” he says, his voice flat, “did I… Was this all booked and arranged two weeks ago on the Friday night?”

“Yes,” you say. “Why?”

Roger sighs heavily, and rubs his eyes. “Oh, shit,” he moans. “For God’s…” He raises his head, and sighs again. “Look, um, Mandy, there’s been a big misunderstanding. I, um, went through a divorce, er, relatively recently, a few months ago, and I’ve been doing a bit of wallowing, I guess you could say, and my friends tried to cheer me up a fortnight ago on Friday by bringing round a few bottles of very nice whiskey and gin. I don’t remember a lot of that night, but, now that you mention it, I have some vague memory of my friends trying to get me to, you know, ‘move on’, and, um, I think they might have looked up… people online.”

Your ears are really burning now. “Oh,” you say.

“That’s what this is, isn’t it?” Roger adds. “You’re a…”

“Not really,” you blurt. “Kind of. It– oh, man.” You bite your bottom lip, hesitating, not quite sure how much to reveal about the situation. “Okay, I’ll be honest. Yes, I’m… from a website. But I’m not – this isn’t a living, or a side gig, or whatever. Not that it would matter if I was, because there’s nothing wrong with…” You shake your head. Stay on track. “It’s just a one-off. You paid me to… to take my virginity.”

You swear you can see Roger’s soul leaving his body in that moment. “You– I what?”

You shrug helplessly.

Roger takes a step back, pressing a hand to his forehead. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “Jesus Christ.”

“I’m sorry for the confusion,” you say, and your stomach sinks further when a realisation comes to you. “I…” You swallow. Your mouth is dry. “I’m really sorry, but I can’t – The money you gave me. I’ve done this to help pay bills and rent and everything, and it’s already been used. A chunk of it, anyway. I can’t refund you. I’m really sorry.”

“No, God, don’t apologise,” Roger says. “You weren’t to know.” He shakes his head. “Fucking dickheads, the lot of them.” He looks to you, and warily inspects your face. “How old did you say you were?” His voice is small, like he’s scared of the answer.

“Twenty,” you reply, and his shoulders sag in relief.

“Thank God,” he says. “I mean, still, you’re so young, but at least you’re…”

“An adult?”

He nods, grimacing sheepishly. “I really am being honest when I say I don’t remember much of that night. My mates aren’t those sorts of people, but, well, who knows what they’d try to pull when they’re pissed.”

“No, it’s fine,” you say. “I look young for my age. But I am twenty.”

“No, I believe you,” Roger says quickly. “I’m not… No.”

You wipe your palms on your dress again. What now? Do you just go home? That wasn’t the cheapest Uber ride you’ve ever had. You were kind of relying on that extra money.

Roger seems equally at loss. “You– Did you have to travel far?”

“Not that far,” you say. “Forty minutes-ish.”

“Fuck,” Roger says. He puts his hands on his hips, and then drops them again. “What time is it? It’s nearly nine, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, about nine.”

“It’s late. You should be getting home.”

Your heart sinks. Wow. Okay. This is really just over like that. “Um, yeah, I guess,” you say. You take half a step back. “I’m really sorry about the– the, um, whole mix-up thing. And sorry about your divorce.”

Great. Real smooth.

“Thanks,” Roger says. He hesitates, and you’re about to turn and head back down the driveway, when he says, “How are you getting home? Did you drive?”

“Uh, no,” you say. “Uber.”

“Uber? God, no, sod that,” Roger says. “Let me…” He fumbles for something in his back pocket, but comes up empty. “Let me pay for it. I don’t– Can I pay you for it?”

“It’s all right,” you reassure him. “You’ve already given me– it’s okay.”

“No, please, I insist,” he says. “Should I– cash? I can give you cash. Or… transfer…” He rolls his eyes at himself, those pretty blue eyes that shouldn’t belong to a man his age, but somehow suit him perfectly. “God,” he mutters. “I usually have things more together than this, I promise. I’ve just been caught beyond off-guard.”

“Sorry,” you say again.

“It’s not your fault, really, I don’t– How could I blame you? You had no idea. I am going to murder my friends.” He sighs, rubbing his temple. “Um. Okay. I’ve paid you before, haven’t I, if you got the deposit? How did I do it? I can just do it that way again.”

“You transferred it to me,” you say. You shift in your heels. Your feet are starting to ache.

“Let’s do it that way again, then,” Roger says. “I’ll just get my phone, sorry.”

“It’s okay, really,” you say yet again, stopping him. “Don’t bother. I’ll– It’ll take me two minutes and then I can be on my way home.”

Roger hovers, and then says, “Can I– Did you want to wait inside? Or out on the steps? Could I get you some water, at least?”

You hesitate. “Um–”

“I’m not trying to do anything,” Roger blurts, and then he shakes his head. “Now it sounds like I am trying to do something. I’m not. Really. If you want, you can just wait here and I’ll go inside and leave you alone.”

You glance at your phone. You haven’t ordered the Uber yet, but you are pretty thirsty. You look back up to Roger. “Well, I already had it in my head that I was coming here to sleep with you, so I’m not really concerned about you trying anything,” you say. “Some water sounds nice, actually.”

Roger laughs. Like his voice, it’s unexpectedly soft, and it makes you smile.

“Um. Yes,” he says, glancing at his feet. “Well. Um, come on in, then.”

You head back up the path, and Roger steps aside to let you in.

You slip past him. He smells good.

His house, on the inside, is just as white-picket-fence as it is on the outside. Not the tidiest, but you suppose he wasn’t expecting company.

He seems to notice the slight mess the same moment you do, and he hurriedly darts forward to tidy up.

“Sorry,” he says.

“No, don’t worry about it,” you say.

He bends down to grab an empty beer bottle from where it sits on the floor next to the couch. Nice ass.

Not that it matters. You aren’t sleeping with him anymore. But, to be fair, you are only human. Just because you’re no longer ordering doesn’t mean you can’t admire the menu.

“I, uh, wasn’t expecting any guests, obviously,” Roger adds, half-jokingly.

You chuckle, and adjust your dress. Roger’s eyes flash down to your hands, then to your chest where you’ve pulled the dress down a little further in your adjustment, and then he quickly looks away, running his hand along his jaw.

“Uh, um,” he says. “Water? Um– take a seat, by the way. Feel free to sit…” He gestures vaguely around him. “Sit anywhere. Anywhere you like.”

“Um, okay,” you say, and hesitate, before awkwardly perching on his couch.

“Sorry, did you say you wanted water?” Roger says.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” you say.

“Yeah, of course,” Roger says, and then disappears into the kitchen.

You breathe in a lungful of air and slowly let it out. Wow. Talk about an unexpected evening.

You take out your phone and message Justine. boy do I have a story to tell u.

She’s online, and she replies immediately. fuck what’s happened?? everything alright??

You bite your lip, considering how to reply. yeah I’m fine. the guy is super easy on the eyes, but there’s been a mix up and basically I am remaining firmly in the virgin zone for the foreseeable future lol.

You backspace and try again. yeah I’m fine. long story short I’m coming home. tell u about it when I get there.

is he ugly?? Justine replies, and you can’t help but smile in amusement.

oh no, that’s not the issue even a little bit, you reply.

“I’m assuming tap water is fine?” Roger says, reappearing with a glass of water, making you jump slightly and flip your phone face-down on your leg, as if he could somehow see the screen from across the room. “Sorry, I should’ve asked. I don’t really have anything else.”

“No, no, tap water is fine, thank you,” you say, and he hands the glass to you.

You take a sip.

Roger glances away, seemingly looking for something to do or something to say, as if the answer is written in the walls. He chews on his thumbnail.

Your mind scrambles to find something to say, but it feels like trying to eat soup with a fork.

“Is everything all right?” Roger asks suddenly, looking to you. “I know this is probably completely inappropriate, but… Well, paying for someone to…”

Your stomach sinks with embarrassment. “Oh,” you say. “Um. Yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine. Just – could do with the money.”

“Of course, yeah,” Roger says hurriedly, nodding. “You’re at uni?”

“Yeah. And living out of home, so.”

“Right. Yeah, of course, I should’ve guessed. Sorry, that was…”

“No, it’s fine,” you say with a reassuring smile. You chuckle. “I’m sorry for disrupting your evening like this.”

“No, no, it…” Roger smiles, and you feel every trace of oxygen leave your lungs, because wow, he’s attractive. “It’s a welcomed interruption, actually.”

“It is?”

“Well, all I had planned was to watch something shit on Netflix and drink beer,” Roger says, screwing up his nose. “Not exactly exciting.”

“Oh, don’t let me stop you,” you say. “Sounds like they were big plans.”

Roger laughs, and your heart thuds against your ribcage. “The sort of plans that sound much nicer when you have company, I think.” He pauses. “Not that– not that I’m expecting you to–” He sighs, running a hand through his hair, making it stick up. “I’m sorry,” he says. “Really, I’m not usually this… awkward.”

“You don’t have to apologise,” you say, shaking your head.

“I used to be a real ladies’ man, you know,” Roger says. “Back in the day. Before my wi– my ex-wife. And the kids.”

“Sure,” you say, drawling sarcastically.

Roger laughs again, a little surprised, but amused. “I was!” he insists. “I was picking up women left and right.”

“I believe you,” you say lightly.

Roger grins, and you have to take a steadying breath. “You’ve got a tongue on you, haven’t you?” he says delightedly.

“So it’s been said.”

It comes out more suggestive than you’d intended. Roger takes a moment to drink you in, and then he bites his bottom lip, looking away, one hand sliding into the back pocket of his jeans, the other one slipping under his shirt, massaging his shoulder.

Your stomach flips and jumps. You take a sip of water.

“You sure you’ve never been with anyone before?” Roger says.

You snort. “That’s a pretty rude question, don’t you think?”

Roger smiles sheepishly. “You’re right. Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

You take another sip of water, and then say, “I haven’t slept with anyone, no. I think I’d know if I had.”

“Right,” Roger says mildly, nodding.

You narrow your eyes at him. “What?”

“Nothing, I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re thinking very loudly. Is there something wrong with me not having slept with anyone?”

“No,” Roger says, his eyes widening. “No, shit, that’s not what I was trying to say. It– you just seem… I’m just surprised. That someone like you…”

You adjust your dress again. Roger’s eyes drop to your breasts again, and back up to your face. “What do you mean by that?” you ask, trying not to preen.

Roger ponders over his answer for a while. “You just seem to… know what you want.”

“Oh, you think so?”

“Yeah,” Roger says noncommittally.

His eyes find yours, and they stay there. Your heart is racing in your chest now, making your blood feel warm. You’ve been attracted to plenty of people before, but this is really something else.

Roger clears his throat, breaking away, and you surreptitiously squeeze your thighs together.

Your phone buzzes on your thigh. It’s Justine. so he’s hot?

“Is that your Uber?” Roger asks. If you aren’t mistaken, he sounds almost disappointed.

Your cheeks grow hot. “Oh, um, I haven’t actually… I forgot to call it.”

“Oh,” Roger says. A tinge of relief? “Well, no rush.”

“It’s just my friend checking up on me,” you add.

“That’s good of them.”

“Yeah. Well, actually, she was checking up on me before. Now she’s just–” You open and close your mouth a few times, but decide to be honest. “Uh, she’s just, um, asking about you.”

Roger quirks an eyebrow, and it’s so hot that you have to look away. “About me?”

Your phone buzzes again. are you on ur way home now?

“Uh,” you say, and quickly type out, not yet.

“What have you told her?” Roger asks, playfully curious.

You put your phone down, and take a breath, smoothing your hands down your legs, thinking carefully of how to answer. “Just that you seem nice.”

“Nice?” Roger says.

“And you’re… Well.” You smirk. “I’m sure you’ve seen yourself in the mirror. No point in boosting your ego too much.”

Roger steps forward, drawn to you by an invisible string. “I don’t think I understand,” he says faux-innocently.

“I’m sorry, weren’t you just saying a minute ago that you were pulling girls left and right?” you say, cocking your head.

“Oh, yeah, when I was twenty,” Roger says. “Not talking about now.”

“Have you tried?”

Roger pauses, slightly taken aback by this, and his eyes roll to the ceiling as he thinks, blowing hair out of his cheeks. “You may have a point there.”

“And I suppose that’s why these friends of yours contacted me?”

“You… may have a point there,” Roger says again.

You nod to yourself. “I don’t see why they couldn’t have just taken you to a pub and set you up with someone there. It’d have been a lot cheaper.”

“They’ve, um…” Roger cards his hand through his hair. “They’ve tried that, actually.” He hesitates, and then walks over to you, sitting down on the armchair near you. “They’ve taken me out a couple of times.”

“And you’ve struck out?” you ask.

Roger chuckles. “No. I – well, like you said, I suppose I haven’t really tried. I didn’t want to.”

“Too soon?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s…” Roger pulls a face. “I don’t know. Haven’t felt like it, really. Maybe it was too soon. Or maybe the thought of having to try to chat someone up just seemed like so much effort.”

“Surely it wouldn’t be much effort for you.”

Roger meets your eyes again, and he smiles slowly, running his tongue along his teeth. “Oh yeah?”

Your phone vibrates. The way Roger’s looking at you makes you wish it was something else vibrating that you could put to good use alone in your room.

Roger’s eyes flick down to the phone, and back up to your face. “That your friend again?”

You hesitate, and then flip the phone over. hellooooo????? wtf is going on????

“Yeah,” you say, and put the phone down beside you.

“You going to answer it?”

“In a minute.”

You smooth your hands down your thighs. Roger watches like a hawk.

Your hands slide back up your thighs.

He swallows.

You smile.

“You, um, you ever…” Roger tears his eyes away from your thighs to look at your face. “Have– have you ever had a boyfriend? Or girlfriend?”

“Yeah,” you say casually. “Not for a long while, though. And nothing too serious. Nothing as full-on as marriage.”

Roger laughs, but it comes out sounding a bit strangled. “Yeah. That’s all right, though. That doesn’t matter.”

Your phone buzzes.

You ignore it.

“I never got around to… all of that,” you explain. “Y’know. Fucking.”

Roger’s face goes slack. “Uh–”

“I wasn’t waiting for anyone special,” you continue. Your blood feels electrified under his gaze. “Just never quite got there.”

“Never quite–?”

You hum. “That’s misleading. I’ve made out with plenty of people, but that’s all. Some over-the-clothes action. Basically nothing, really.”

Roger looks like he’s struggling to breathe. “Uh-huh.”

“You probably find that hard to imagine,” you say with a wry smile. “Having kids and all. How old were you your first time?”

Roger blinks, and takes a moment to reply. “Uh, I was sixteen.”

You laugh. “God, I can’t even picture…” You frown, and shake your head. “It’s hard to picture what it’d be like, you know? The reality of it? You can watch as much porn as you like – and I’ve watched plenty, mind you – but, like, I know that it’s not real. Not realistic, anyway. I’ve spent what feels like ages just trying to picture what is actually is like, but it’s impossible for me to know.”

“It’s good,” Roger says, and it comes out in a rush, and he looks surprised at himself.

You feel a thrill go through you. “Good?”

“Yeah,” Roger says. “Everyone says your first time isn’t good, but that’s only if your partner doesn’t know what they’re doing. And it’s nice when you have an idea of what you’re doing, too, but that comes with time. And if you have a good teacher.” He rakes his hand through his hair again. “But when the chemistry is right, and the mood is right, it’s… good.”

“That’s descriptive,” you murmur sarcastically.

Roger huffs a laugh. “What do you want, a detailed explanation? Graphs and illustrations?”

“A demonstration would be nice.”

Shit. Oh, shit. Shit shit shit. Why the fuck did you say that?

Your eyes are wide, and you open and close your mouth a few times. “Uh.” Roger looks as surprised as you feel. “Oh,” he says. “Um. Wow. Is– is this part of the…”

You blink. “Part of the…?”

“The whole…” He gestures vaguely. “…thing. You being paid to…”

“Did I just make a complete idiot of myself as part of my attempt to woo you as a kind-of sex worker?” you ask. You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Nope. No. That was all me. Just being a dumbass.” You groan, covering your face. “I’m sorry,” you say from behind your hands. “This is so embarrassing.” This whole night has been nothing but a huge embarrassment. You can’t wait to go home and forget about it, thanks to an unhealthy dose of alcohol.

“I’m sorry,” Roger says.

You lower your hands. “For what?”

“For – I don’t know. I just felt I needed to apologise.”

You snort. “You don’t have to apologise for me very clumsily and awkwardly and horribly trying to flirt with you, Roger.” You roll your eyes at yourself. “You’re probably used to seeing that all the time.”

“Again, not for a very long time,” Roger says. “But I know what horrible and awkward flirting looks like, and… that wasn’t it.”

“But clumsy, though, right?” you say, screwing up your nose.

Roger chuckles. “Maybe. But that’s all right.” He shifts in his seat. “I was just as clumsy.”

You wave a hand, and reach for your phone. It’s high time you called your Uber. And reply to Justine. “You weren’t flirting with me.”

You re-read the messages from Justine you’re yet to reply to.

so hes hot?

are you on ur way home now?

hellooooo????? wtf is going on????

Then the new one, from a few minutes ago: for the love of god can u please reply to me. something. anything. I’ll take a solid thumbs-up.

So you send a thumbs-up.

When you look up, Roger is staring at you, and you realise he hasn’t spoken since you did.

You’ve well and truly crossed a line somewhere. You can’t blame him for wanting you out. “I’m sorry,” you say. “I’m just – my friend. I’ll get the Uber now. Sorry it’s taken me so long.”

“Don’t,” Roger says.

You pause. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t order the Uber.”

Your stomach bubbles. “Wh– No?”

“Not yet, at least,” Roger says. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You think I wasn’t flirting with you?”

“Why would you be?” you respond automatically.

“Why would…” Roger shakes his head. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because I’m a random twenty-year-old woman who’s just shown up at your door on a Tuesday night dressed like this talking about how you paid to take my virginity,” you say bluntly. “Which is more than a little off-putting.”

“Well, all right, I’ll give you that,” Roger says. “But here I am, still trying to clumsily flirt with you nonetheless.”

You break out into a smile, a bashful one, and duck your head. “Oh.”

“Oh,” Roger repeats, a touch playfully.

You glance up at him. He’s smiling at you, pleased with your reaction, and the thought of kissing him flashes through your mind, and you’ve suddenly never wanted anything more. You purse your lips, looking at your hands again, fiddling with your phone, flipping it around and around in your grip.

“Mandy,” he says gently, and you’re puzzled for a moment before you remember –

“That’s, um, not my real name,” you tell him with an awkward chuckle. But you really like how he said it all the same.

Roger looks so embarrassed that you can’t help but laugh. “Here I was, trying to be all suave, and now I look like an idiot,” he says.

You shake your head. “You don’t. You didn’t know.”

“I should’ve guessed you weren’t using your real name.”

“No, it’s fine,” you giggle.

“Well, am I allowed to know your real name? So I can try again?”

You hesitate.

“Unless you don’t want to,” Roger says quickly. “That’s fine. Security, and all. Stranger danger.”

You laugh again. “Stranger danger? I’m in your house.”

“I could be a stalker. You don’t know that.”

Fuck, you’re attracted to him. “Dork,” you say with a roll of your eyes.

Roger chuckles, his eyes sparkling.

“It’s [Y/N],” you add.

“[Y/N],” he repeats, and your breath catches ever so slightly. He pauses, and then comes to sit beside you on the couch, and holds out his hand. “Nice to meet you, [Y/N],” he says. “I’m Roger.”

You giggle, and take his hand, shaking it. “Nice to meet you, Roger.”

He’s so close now. He smells amazing, and his hand is warm, and his eyes are so blue, and his lips–

You realise you’ve been staring at his mouth, your hand still in his, and you glance back up at his eyes before quickly taking your hand back, looking away.

You tuck your hair behind your ear, clearing your throat. You’re barely aware of your own body – only his, and how close it is to yours. Like there’s a force between the two of you, connecting you. When he swallows and moves his hand back to his own lap, you can feel it as if it’s your own.

“Do you, um…” Roger takes a breath in, and you feel your chest, your lungs, buzz. “Tell me about yourself a bit.”

“Me?” you say, looking to him. Oh, wow, he really is close. Fucking hell, you want him.

“Yeah,” he says, smiling. “What do you do for fun? Stuff like that?”

You lick your lips, and his eyes dart to the movement. “Um, well, I…” You absentmindedly adjust your dress, and it catches his eye again. “I’m at uni, in my second year. It’s all right. Pretty stressful, obviously, but I like it well enough. I live with two of my friends. I, um… I like… dogs.”

Roger laughs.

This is so stupid, you realise. You both clearly want each other.

You shake your head. “Stupid,” you mutter.

Roger frowns. “What’s stupid?”

“This,” you say. You gesture between the two of you for emphasis. “This.”

“Oh,” Roger says. He shifts away from you. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

You huff. “You’re not.”

“Then what–”

“Kiss me,” you cut in.

Roger stops. “Kiss you?”

“Yes,” you say, keeping your gaze steady on his. “You’re too damn difficult to resist. So kiss me.”

Roger hesitates.

You raise your eyebrows. “Unless you don’t want to?”

“No, I – I do,” he says. “I just…”

“What?”

“I feel like the circumstances… I don’t want you to think I’m just doing this because I’ve paid you to…”

“I don’t think that,” you say. “And I don’t want your money; this is way beyond that now. I’m not trying to trick you into sleeping with me so I can force you to pay me. I just know chemistry when I see it.”

Roger chuckles. “I was right,” he says. “You know exactly what you want.”

You steel your nerves. “Yeah,” you say with a shrug of your shoulders. “And I want you.”

Roger swallows. “But you don’t even know me.”

“Nope.”

“And you’re in my house.”

“Yep.”

“And I’m so much older than you.”

“That’s right.”

“And you’re…”

“I’m a virgin,” you finish, nodding. “I know. But for the love of God, Roger, if you don’t kiss me right now, I’m going to scream.”

Roger exhales, shakes his head minutely, and then says, “God fucking damn it,” and leans in to kiss you.

You immediately shift to press closer towards him, one hand coming to rest against his chest. He kisses you earnestly, but gently, like he’s nervous. Nervous about making you feel pressured, you can safely assume.

But that’s not what you’re about. You pull back, and, before he can say anything, you climb on top of him, straddling his waist, and kiss him again, more deeply than before. He breaks away just far enough to whisper, “Holy shit,” and then ducks his head to kiss down your throat. You tilt your head to give him more room, one hand against his chest and the other raking through his hair. His hands, rough and warm, smooth up your thighs, and your breath catches. They stop just under the hem of the dress, and a soft whine slips from your throat.

Roger moans in response. “Jesus Christ.”

You reach down and grab at his wrists, urging his hands to go further up the dress. “Touch me,” you pant.

He draws back, and you look down at him, at his slightly flushed cheeks and his ruffled hair, and you want him naked, right now. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything you don’t want to,” he says. “We can just make out, that’s absolutely fine. Just because of… the whole… arrangement…”

“Roger,” you say slowly, “I’m only going to say this once, because I don’t want to have to repeat myself.”

He nods, swallowing.

You cup his face in your hands, boring your eyes into his. “I want you to fuck me. Tonight. Right now.”

Roger takes a shaky breath. “Are you–”

“What did I just say?” you cut in. “Not repeating it.”

Roger smiles, laughing breathlessly. “Bloody hell.”

You smirk. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Oh, it most certainly is one, believe me.”

You lean in to kiss him, and his hands, thank the Lord, slide further up your thighs. You start unbuttoning his shirt, blindly, fumbling a little, and your kisses grow more eager.

You’ve kissed a number of people in your time. Not a whole lot, but a few. And Roger really takes the damn cake.

When his shirt is fully unbuttoned, untucked from his jeans, you move your lips down his neck, and he moans, letting his head roll back, his hands shifting to grab your ass, pulling you against him. You can feel the tent in his jeans, and, beyond thrilled, you grind against it, loving how a bolt of arousal shoots through you. Roger’s grip on you tightens, and when you nip at his skin, he spits out, “Fuck.”

You rock your hips against him again, and he laughs again. “God, it’s been too long.”

You hum, nipping his throat again and soothing it with your tongue. “How long is too long?”

“Months. Lost count. Ah, fuck.”

You pull back, giving him a look, and he lifts his head to meet your eyes. “Try twenty years,” you say dryly.

Roger shakes his head. “Can’t even imagine.” He kisses you, just once, and then murmurs against your lips, “I promise I’ll make this good for you.”

You shiver. “I’m sure you will.”

“I mean it.” He kisses you again, and then sits back, his hands sliding back to your thighs and squeezing them gently. “I want this to be good for you. If I’m going to be your first, I want you to enjoy it. So you have to tell me if I’m doing something you don’t like, yeah?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

“I don’t care what it is we’re doing – you can tell me to stop at literally any point, and I will, no questions asked.”

You nod. “I know, I know.”

Roger chuckles. “You just really want to get things going, don’t you?”

“Yes.” You press your lips to his, and, now that you both know where things lie between you, you’re both eager to get to the next step. The kisses quickly become more feverish, hotter, deeper. Roger’s hands go to the back of your dress, working the zipper down your spine, and you shudder at the feeling of it. When he’s done, you sit back to yank it over your head, dropping it the floor behind you.

Roger’s eyes drink you in, his mouth hanging open. “Whoa.”

You flush under his gaze. You know you look good – you’d worn your push-up bra and matching lace underwear for a reason – but it’s still a rush to get a reaction like that.

“Bedroom?” Roger says, his voice a touch weak, and you nod, leaning in to steal one last kiss before climbing off him, taking his hand and pulling him to his feet. He groans slightly as he does so, and you giggle.

“I know, I know, I’m old,” he says.

“No, I like it,” you say, tugging him closer to you and hooking a finger of your other hand through a belt loop on his jeans. “Dad noises.”

Roger shakes his head, his hands coming to rest on your waist, and you lean into the touch. “Don’t say that,” he grumbles. “Makes me feel even older.”

“You’re not old,” you say, rolling your eyes. “You’re not even forty.”

Roger laughs. “Ah, yes, a real spring chicken.”

“Can you stop whining and fuck me already? I’m gonna be forty by the time we get to it.”

Roger snorts. “Cheeky.” He leans in to kiss you, and you curl your arms around his neck, pressing into him.

When you break apart, you take Roger’s hand again, and he leads you to his bedroom, both of you stumbling slightly in the dark house. You’re only in your underwear, but you’re still wearing your heels, and you feel like you’re in some kind of Victoria Secret ad.

Roger keeps glancing back at you, his eyes sweeping your body, and he’s so distracted he almost runs into a wall at one point, and you have to tug on his arm to pull him out of the way, laughing as you do so. He retaliates by pushing you up against the wall and kissing you senseless, his thigh slotted between yours. You’re lightheaded and unbelievably turned on by the time he breaks away again, and it feels like a lifetime before you reach his bedroom.

Roger switches on the light.

The double bed is unmade, but the room itself is fairly tidy, just a pair of shoes and a shirt on the floor. The whole room screams tax-paying adult, and you’re reminded again that the man you’re about to sleep with is, in fact, a proper adult. Not like you, an adult by the loosest terms imaginable, but a fully-grown man with children and a mortgage and a career, probably. A completely different world to yours.

But none of that will matter when you’re both naked.

He closes the door behind him, and then you’re pouncing on him, pushing his shirt off his shoulders and all but tearing his belt off. His hands are tight on your hips, and when you undo his belt and the button and fly on his jeans, he pants, “Bed, bed, go sit on the bed.”

You do as you’re told, sitting on the edge of the bed and crossing one knee over the other, taking the opportunity to quickly tie your hair back out of your face while and Roger fumbles with the rest of his clothes, kicking off his shoes and pulling off his socks and jeans. You can tell that he would’ve been thin as a twig back in the day, and you’d easily call him slender even now, but his body is soft, the sign of a father who’s spent more time taking care of the kids and having a beer in the evenings to wind down than going to the gym. It suits him, looks good on him. You’re certainly a big fan.

Soon, he’s down to nothing but his boxer-briefs. His boxer-briefs, which are neon green.

You break out into a grin, and Roger looks down at them, sighing. “Of all the fucking pairs I could’ve put on today,” he mutters.

“They’re pretty great,” you say, and you make sure you have Roger’s full attention before you uncross your legs, spreading your knees wide, leaning back on your hands, “but I’m more interested in what’s underneath them.”

From the look on Roger’s face, you’d guess his legs are about to give out from under him. “You’re gonna fucking kill me,” he huffs, and he hurries over.

Grinning, you scramble backwards on the bed, lying down, and he crawls after you, over you, and his kiss is bruising.

Your hands are shaking now – with excitement and with nerves, a lot of nerves – but you ignore that, and worm your fingers inside his underwear, wrapping your hand around him and giving him a tug.

He jerks, and you have a moment of panic where you think you’ve done the wrong thing, but then he kisses you with more fervour, so you do it again. This time, his hand finds yours, gently guiding you away.

“Did I do something wrong?” you ask.

Roger looks confused for a moment, and then says, “God, no. I just don’t want to get too worked up before we get to, y’know, the main event.”

“Oh,” you say, smiling in relief.

“You really have no experience at all, do you?” Roger says, sounding almost disbelieving.

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” you say. “It hasn’t all been some elaborate ruse to get into your pants. Literally all I have is some vague, theoretical ideas on how this works. And I know the mechanics. But that’s it. So you’re gonna have to be patient with me.”

“That’s fine by me,” Roger says. He chuckles. “It’ll make everything I do seem much more magical than it really is.”

“Sure,” you say mock-condescendingly.

Roger laughs, and he looks so wonderful when he’s laughing that you can’t help but smile, your hand reaching up to comb through his hair.

He notices the look in your eye, your smile, and he smiles back in a way that makes your stomach squirm and your fingers and toes tingle.

He kisses you, and the squirming in your stomach grows into full-blown butterflies, big Amazonian ones, and you begin to have an inkling that, oh no, this could be bad. This could be very bad indeed.

It’s probably nothing. He’s just hot, and nice, and funny, so you’re excited to have sex with him. That’s it. You’re a duckling that’s imprinted on its mother. Except you’re a human, and Roger’s the first person you’re having sex with, not your mother.

Not the best analogy you’ve come up with. You can’t blame yourself, though – the way Roger’s kissing you is turning your brain into mush.

He presses a kiss to just under your ear, and then kisses all the way down your throat, and you tilt your head back. “Feels so good,” you murmur.

You can feel Roger smile against your skin.

He keeps going, kissing the hollow at the base of your throat, further down still, and you bite your bottom lip. He presses a kiss to the top of your right breast, and then looks up at you. “Can I take your bra off?”

You nod eagerly, and he moves back so you can sit up. “Oh, I’ve still got my shoes on,” you said.

“I’ve noticed,” Roger says, and you chuckle.

“As super sexy as they are, I do wanna take them off,” you say.

Roger ducks forward to drop a kiss to your neck, and the butterflies are back, and you can feel your cheeks going pink. You want to hide your face, but Roger’s right there, and you can’t look away from his eyes. “How about you take your bra off,” he says, “and I’ll get your shoes.”

“You don’t have to take my shoes off for me,” you say.

“Well, I want to,” he says simply, and shuffles down, climbing off the bed. He gestures for you to shift forward, and you do, until your feet are hanging off the bed, your knees hooked over the edge. Roger gets onto his knees – he makes a dad noise as he does so, and you giggle again – and fiddles with the buckle on one of your shoes.

You take a moment to watch him, biting your lip, smiling, and then reach behind you and unhook your bra, slipping it from your shoulders.

He doesn’t look up right away, and you’re thankful for a moment to get your head around the fact that you’ve never been completely topless in front of anyone before. You’re self-conscious about the grooves the bra has dug into your skin, about the way your breasts look without the aid of the push-up, and you almost go to cross your arms over yourself, but then Roger glances up, and his hands go still. “Bloody hell,” he breathes. “You’re gorgeous.”

You tuck your hair behind your ear. “Thanks,” you say in a small voice, unsure how else to respond.

Roger shakes his head, and focuses back on the shoe, making quick work of it and easing it off your foot, setting it down beside him. He moves onto the other shoe. “Talk about winning the fuckin’ lottery,” he says.

“I could say the same,” you say.

Roger stops again, looking to you, and then smiles, looking back to the shoe. His ears have gone red.

He takes the second shoe off and places it beside the first, then presses light kisses to the inside of your knee. He moves further up your leg, up your thigh, and you realise you’re holding your breath. His arms are curled around underneath your legs.

Roger looks up at you, his thick eyelashes making him look almost angelic. “Is this all right?” he says. “If I…?”

He’s asking if he can eat you out. Oh, God, he’s asking if he can eat you out. He wants to put his mouth and tongue there, and maybe his fingers, too, and no one’s ever done that before.

You nod eagerly. Maybe a little too eagerly, as Roger laughs.

You feel your stomach cave in on itself in embarrassment. “Actually, no thanks,” you say, trying to pull your legs back. “Changed my mind.”

“No, no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh,” Roger says, still chuckling. He coaxes your legs back to where they were, and kisses your thigh. “It was just the look on your face.”

“You’re doing a terrible job of wooing me,” you say, aiming for resolute and chastising, but it comes out sounding more weedy and humiliated.

“I’m sorry,” Roger says again, and his hands stroke your legs soothingly. “I am. I didn’t mean to make you feel embarrassed.” He smiles, a glint in his eye, and you’re momentarily left breathless. “Can I… make it up to you?”

You can’t help but smile back, rolling your eyes. “Wow. Cheesy.”

“Thank you,” Roger says. “I’m going to be honest, as fun as this banter is, my knees aren’t going to last forever.”

You splutter a laugh. “Yes, yes, okay, yes please.”

Roger surges up off the floor to press a firm kiss to your lips, and you take a moment to wonder just how dodgy his knees really are if he can do something like that, or whether he was just looking for a convenient segue into getting your underwear off. You’re not fussed either way.

Roger kisses your collarbone, and then pulls back, hooking his fingers into your underwear. “Lift your hips up for me, love?”

The pet name makes heat pool between your legs. Oh, Jesus.

“Mm-hm,” you say, hoping it sounds more nonchalant to him than it does to your own ears, and lie back to lift your hips, and he slides your underwear down your legs and drops them near your shoes.

You expect him to go back to his knees straight away, but he holds himself above you, kissing you, deep and slow, making you whimper into his mouth. One hand holds himself up, and the other one massages your hip, his thumb kneading your skin. Relaxing you, you realise. You let yourself get lost in the kiss, and you’re only partially aware when Roger’s hand moves from your hip to your thigh, brushing over your skin.

You’re extremely aware, however, when his fingers stroke through your folds for the first time.

Despite yourself, you jump, and Roger murmurs, “Sorry,” but you shake your head to dismiss his concerns, and pull him in again.

For a few moments it’s strange, feeling someone’s else hand there, and you’re very conscious of how wet you are, and you wonder if it’s something you should be embarrassed about, but then Roger circles your clit, and suddenly all your worries seem very far away.

It feels… good. Really fucking good. Roger’s fingers are rougher than yours, but they’re clearly experienced in how they move.

You push your hips up against Roger’s hand, wanting more, and Roger complies, his fingers moving just a touch more roughly, and he ducks his head to nuzzle at your throat, kissing it, nipping lightly.

“Oh, God,” you moan to the ceiling, overwhelmed already, and you almost laugh at how surprised you sound. Your hand grips Roger’s hair, and you hope it’s not too hard, but you couldn’t let go if you tried.

Then Roger’s hand is gone, and you let out a choked sound at the sudden stop. You try to gather your thoughts to ask why, but then Roger is kissing down your body. Oh, man, you think, unable to conjure up anything else, and Roger chuckles, and you realise you said it out loud, but you don’t have time to be embarrassed, as Roger takes one of your nipples into his mouth, his tongue swirling around it, his teeth tugging at it, and you gasp.

“I’ve never… That’s new,” you say weakly, hissing when Roger runs the flat of his tongue over your nipple.

Roger pulls off to ask, “Do you like it?”

“Yeah,” you say. “Yeah, uh-huh.”

“Good.” He goes back to his task, and you arch off the bed slightly.

“So good,” you breathe. Roger switches to the other nipple, and you moan appreciatively.

Eventually, both to your dismay and your excitement, he draws away, and presses a single kiss to the space between your breasts. “You’re fucking stunning,” he says, and then he moves back to climb off the bed, setting himself between your thighs.

You struggle to wrap your head around it. How he could be making you feel this good, and then still compliment you, as if you’ve done anything to deserve it?

Roger doesn’t waste time talking now. He kisses the inside of your thigh, and then he dives straight in, his tongue nudging your clit as it pushes through your folds. You suck in a sharp gasp, your hand gripping his hair tightly. Your other hand flails, grappling at the sheets as he starts to find a rhythm. You wind up pressing the back of it to your mouth, trying to muffle the sounds you’re making, trying to gather some sort of control, because right now you feel like you’re falling head-first off a cliff, and Roger has complete power over how you land.

He does something with his mouth – you couldn��t tell for the life of you what it is – and your hips buck against your will. “Sorry,” you blurt out, and it comes out broken and breathless.

Roger just adjusts one of his arms, bracing it across your hips, holding you down, and you moan. His other hand joins his mouth, sliding a finger into you. “Oh, fuck,” you whisper, and then your hand returns to its position, keeping you somewhat quieter.

It doesn’t take long before Roger’s working in a second finger, pumping them in and out of you, and the sound of it is so obscene that it makes your face go bright red. You’re climbing towards an orgasm, frighteningly quickly, and when a third finger squeezes in beside the first two, you very nearly come, but the sting of the stretch is enough to keep it at bay.

But then your body relaxes around the three fingers, and Roger crooks them just so and sucks on your clit, and you move your hand away from your mouth to say in a rush, “I’m– I’m so close, I’m gonna come, fuck, ah, shit,” and then–

Then Roger is gone, his fingers and mouth are gone, and you’re left teetering on the brink of an orgasm, feeling like the air has been punched out of you.

“Wh– Roger?” you say, your head a mess. You prop yourself up on your elbows to see Roger still between your legs, but instead he’s massaging your thighs with his thumbs, dropping light kisses to your soft skin.

He smiles up at you, his nose and chin glistening. “Thought we could try something.”

You shake your head to try to clear it. “But I was just about to…”

You can still feel the urge. Another minute, and you’ll be there. But the longer you wait, the more the feeling fades. It makes you want to punch a wall.

Roger hums. “I know. That’s the point.”

You frown, trying to wrap your head around it. “You… don’t want me to?”

“Not yet.”

It finally clicks. “You’re gonna do that to me a couple more times before you make me come, aren’t you?”

Roger’s smile widens into a grin. “That’s the plan. If you’re on board.”

“I’m on board,” you say. “As long as when I do come, it blows my fucking mind.”

“That’s really the point of it, love.” Roger keeps eye contact with you as he leans forward to press a kiss to your core, and you shudder. “And move your hand away from your mouth. You don’t have to be quiet. The more sounds you make, the better.”

“When am I gonna get my hands on you?” you ask. “I’ve barely even touched your dick yet.”

Roger huffs a laugh, and you can feel his breath against you. “We’re getting there,” he says easily. “Good things come to those who wait.”

“Ugh, that’s such a dad thing to say,” you bemoan, lying back down.

Roger laughs again, and then his mouth and hands return to where you so desperately need them. You suck in air through your teeth. “Fuck, Roger.”

Roger moans, and you jerk at the sensation.

He brings you to the edge once more, and, even though you don’t tell him when you’re about to come, he knows, and leaves you hanging once again. So close, so close, but not close enough.

You feel like crying. Or kicking him in the face.

You moan helplessly, slinging an arm over your eyes, your legs trembling as Roger smiles against your thigh – you can feel it. A smug smile that makes your blood boil and your core throb even more than it already is.

Then his fingers push into you for a third time, and his tongue licks through you, but this time it’s slow, painfully slow, not enough to make you come but enough to keep your head lost in the clouds, enough to make your stomach clench and twist, desperately searching for something. It’s enough to make you grind your teeth together. “God, fuck, I need to come,” you sob against the palm of your hand, your thighs trying to clench around Roger’s ears, but his arm is in the way, keeping your hips still.

His tongue drags against your clit, steady and unhurried, and the gasping whine that rips itself from your throat is piercing to your ears. Not even your hand could muffle it.

“There we go,” Roger says, and does it again.

You squirm. “Roger, fuck, please, I wanna come so bad.”

Roger’s fingers still move in and out of you at a leisurely pace, but he uses his mouth to say, “You wanna come?”

“Yes,” you say miserably. “Please, I need to.”

His thumb presses against your clit, and you bite your bottom lip, your body twisting.

“Christ,” Roger breathes. “That’s a fucking sight.”

“Fuck me,” you beg. “Anything, just please.”

Roger takes his hand away, standing and wiping his face on the back of his hand, and you swear. He kicks off his boxer-briefs. His cock is hard and red, swollen, leaking. You sit up and zero in on it like it’s a four-course meal and you haven’t eaten in days. You scramble off the bed, dropping to your knees in front of him.

“Fucking hell,” he says, clearly not expecting you to do that.

“Can I suck you off?” you ask desperately, resisting the urge to just shove your mouth around his dick without further preamble. “I’ll do a good job, I promise. Just tell me what to do. I’m a fast learner.” You curl your fist around him, sucking the head into your mouth.

Roger makes a strangled sound, his hips bucking slightly. “Wait, wait, wait,” he says quickly, guiding your head away with a hand on your head.

You pull back, but keep your hand where it is. “Just fuck my mouth,” you say, gazing up at him. “I dunno how that works, but I can keep it open.” You do so, sticking your tongue out, silently begging with your eyes.

Roger chuckles softly to himself, running a hand through his hair. “You’re gonna make me come just from running your mouth like that.”

You open your mouth wider.

“Or from just doing that,” Roger says. He pries your hand away from his dick, using it to pull you to your feet.

He kisses you, a hungry kiss, a you’re doing so well kiss, and it makes you preen. “But I want to fuck you,” he says. “I’ve had my dick sucked before; you’ve never been fucked.”

“I’ve never sucked a dick before, either, though,” you reason.

“Well, hit me up next time you’re in the neighbourhood,” Roger jokes. Before you can reply, he kisses you again, and you drink him in greedily, palming at his cock until his kisses grow sloppy, messy, more teeth and tongue, and he has to snatch your wrist. “Let me get inside you first,” he growls. “Good God.”

“I like it when you’re bossy,” you say, teasingly.

Roger hums, his eyes dark. “You need that attitude fucked right out of you.”

“Do it,” you say fervently, grinning in delight when he grabs your other wrist as well to stop you from touching him. “Do it, do it, do it. Fuck it right out me. I need it. Never had anyone try to fuck anything out of me before.”

Roger shudders. “Jesus.”

You half-heartedly try to tug your wrists back, but he holds them tightly. “Fuck me till I can’t walk,” you say. “Come on.”

Roger takes a breath, and then lets your wrists go. “Bed. Now.”

You scramble to obey, clenching your thighs together at the sight of Roger. He looks wrecked already, his hair a mess, his skin flushed, his eyes glassy, his lips red. He goes to his bedside table and digs out a bottle of lube and some condoms. “Maybe should check the date on these,” he mutters to himself, and squints at the packets in his hands. After a few moments of peering at them, he sighs in frustration, and reaches for the pair of glasses on the table that you hadn’t noticed before. He slips them on, and then nods at the packets. “They’re fine.”

He goes to take the glasses off, but you say, “Wait, show me.”

He turns to you. “Show you what?”

Fuck, he looks gorgeous in those glasses. They’re large, round ones, with delicate silver frames, and you make a soft sound. “Oh, wow.”

“I know, they’re horrendous,” Roger says, taking off the glasses and setting them down. “My eyesight’s always been shite, but I can’t stand wearing the bloody things.”

“No, you look great,” you say. “So great, in fact, that I need you to get the condom on so you can fuck me literally right now.”

Roger raises his eyebrows. “You what?”

“I’m dying here, Roger,” you say loudly, smacking the bed beside you. “You look hot as fuck in those glasses, and I’m so insanely horny that I’m about to explode. I need your dick in me right now.”

Roger grins, and rips open the condom packet. “All right. Jeez.”

“Let me do it,” you say, crawling over to him and taking the condom from him.

“You’ve ever done it before?” he asks.

“Not since we had to at school when I was, like, fifteen.” You do it carefully, to the best of your memory. Your mouth waters being so close to his cock. “Is this right?”

“Yeah, perfect,” Roger says. “You look incredible, by the way.”

You look up at Roger, and the butterflies return. You’re left momentarily speechless, but it doesn’t matter, because Roger leans down and kisses you. His hand rests against your collarbones, and you get another idea in your head. You rise up into a kneel, keeping his lips on yours, and then you take his hand, pressing it against your throat: a silent invitation.

Roger moans into your mouth, and applies some pressure, just a bit, testing the waters.

It makes your core ache, and you kiss him harder, so he presses harder in return. His palm is warm against your throat, and you keep one hand loosely around his wrist, the other hand in his hair, as it is wont to do.

You end up lying back on the bed, Roger pressing his hand against your throat as you gasp and squirm.

“You like this, don’t you?” Roger says, fingers on his other hand dipping into your folds. “Fuck, feel how wet you are.”

You nod desperately. Your mouth is hanging open, and your head is starting to swim.

“Is that all for me, love?”

You whimper, nodding again. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears.

Roger lets go of your throat, and you gasp, your eyes wide. “More,” you say immediately. “More. Fuck me like that.”

Roger smiles, keeping his palm against your throat, but brushes his thumb across your skin. His other hand curls around your knee. “Your enthusiasm is… mind-blowing,” he says with a chuckle, “but just take a moment, yeah? You’re all over the shop. Slow down a bit.”

“I don’t wanna slow down,” you protest, grabbing onto his forearm.

“We’ve got time, love. It doesn’t have to be over so quickly.”

“You can’t tease me like that, almost make me come, like, three times, and then tell me to slow down,” you say. “I need you, Roger. Christ, I need you. Show me what it’s like, show me how good my first time can be.”

Roger’s pupils are blown wide, and he lets out a shaky breath. He swallows. “Spread your legs.”

You grin, and do so. Roger lets go of your throat and leans over you on all fours to kiss you briefly. “I’m not choking you while I fuck you,” he says. “I want you to feel all of it, not have your head somewhere else.”

You nod vigorously.

Roger reaches for the lube. You hold out your hand, and he raises an eyebrow at you, but pours some into your hand. You reach forward and slide your fist up and down his cock, spreading the lube. He groans and shudders, and then he says, “That’s enough, that’s enough, I want to fuck you.”

You take your hand away, wiping the lube on the sheets, Roger surges forward to capture your lips with his, and you feel the head of his cock nudging at your entrance. A shot of adrenaline explodes within you.

“Tell me if it hurts, okay?” Roger says, and you nod.

Then, slowly, he pushes into you, just an inch or two. You gasp at the stretch, gripping onto his arms, your mouth wide.

Roger stills, and nuzzles at your throat. “You okay?”

“Mm-hm,” you say, biting your lip. “Keep… Keep going.”

He does, rocking in shallowly, just going a little further each time. He’s panting against your neck, and you can feel your sweat pricking your skin. You can’t help but admire Roger’s back, the way the muscles move.

It feels good. Once you get over the initial shock to the system of having something that size inside you, you realise why you were so excited to get to this in the first place.

“I’m good,” you say, nails absentmindedly scratching the back of his neck. “It– It doesn’t hurt or anything.”

“You sure?” Roger asks, kissing your neck softly.

You can’t help but laugh. “Roger, for the love of all things holy, fuck me.”

He doesn’t need another invitation. He slams into you, and your eyes go wide, a tiny sound of surprise leaping out of you.

“Sorry,” Roger says, raising his head to kiss you in apology.

“Don’t fucking apologise, it feels good,” you say back. “Come on, come on.”

Roger laughs, and kisses you. You can feel his laughter against your lips, feel the way his smile changes the shape of his mouth, and that dangerously warm feeling in the pit of your stomach returns.

You could get used to this. Get used to Roger laughing against your lips as he’s buried inside you. Get used to teasing him, to turning him on, to rolling around in his bed.

As soon as the thoughts creep into your mind, you banish them. That’s not happening, you tell yourself harshly. This is a one-and-done deal. You can’t develop feelings for a man you’ve only met once. A man who is, by the way, in case you’ve forgotten, sixteen years older than you.

Then Roger pulls out halfway and drives back into you, and all you can think about is his dick.

Your hand goes back to your mouth, just like before, keeping yourself quiet as you moan and whimper. Your ankles hook over the small of Roger’s back.

But then Roger pauses, sitting up, and he unwraps your legs from around him and pushes one of your knees flat on the bed, keeping you spread out wide. “Hands away from your mouth, love,” he says. “Let me hear you. It’s okay, you can let go.”

Your face burns, and you cover it with both of your hands. It’s too big of an ask. You’ve never felt more vulnerable. “Roger…”

“[Y/N].”

You lower your hands. He’s watching you, his blue eyes burning with desire, but they’re soft, too. Understanding.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he says. “Hold onto the sheets, yeah? Can you do that for me?”

You nod, and, with no small amount of effort, let your arms go by your sides, your fists wrapping in the sheets.

Roger smiles. “You’re amazing.”

You turn your head away, overwhelmed.

“Eyes on me. Hey.”

You look back at him. Exposed. You’re exposed, in every sense of the word.

Roger braces himself on the bed beside your ribs, and, keeping one hand on your knee, holding it down, he starts fucking into you again, hard and deep.

The sound you make could best be described as a mewl, and it’s a sound you’ve never heard yourself make before. Your hands tighten in the sheets, fighting the urge to cover your face again. Roger’s eyes are still on yours, and it’s too much, you want to look away, but you can’t.

“So good for me,” Roger pants. “Fuck. God, you’re incredible.”

You whine. “Roger.”

“That’s it, love. Say my name.”

He thrusts into you at just the right angle, making your back arch. “Roger.”

Roger groans, and he lets go of your knee to circle his fingers around your clit. You gasp, your eyes finally breaking away from his to look to the ceiling, feeling yourself climbing rapidly for the fourth time that night.

“Let me come, let me come, please,” you beg, your arms straining as your fists pull on the sheets.

Roger leans forward again to kiss you, a mess of heavy breathing and tongues and lips brushing. You let go of the sheets to clutch onto him, pawing at his shoulders and back and hips, unable to settle on where you want to hold him.

One hand inevitably slides into his hair, and you grip onto it, tugging it hard. Roger’s rhythm stutters, and he groans out your name.

His fingers feel so fucking good, and, doubled with the way he’s stretched you out, tripled with how he edged you before, you just know how hard you’re going to come. You can feel it building deeper within you than you’ve ever felt before, like an impending tsunami.

Roger readjusts, sitting back again, his brow furrowed as he searches for just the right spot to hit you.

When he does, you cry out. “Right there, right there, fuck.”

Your hands scrabble for purchase, and one finds your own hair, burying itself, and you don’t pull, but you keep a firm grip on it, the slight pain being the only thing keeping you from losing yourself entirely. Your other hand finds the same spot as before in the sheets, and you sob, screwing your eyes shut.

“You close?” Roger asks, and you nod.

“Say it out loud, love.”

“Yes, I’m so close, I’m so close,” you gasp. You’re almost there, you can feel it, only inches away, moments away.

“Open your eyes, come on.”

You do, and meet his gaze. “Roger,” you whimper.

“You gonna come for me?”

“Y-yeah.”

“I wanna hear it, yeah? Wanna see you. See you come undone on my cock.”

And that’s the final nail in the coffin. You orgasm pulses through you, so hard that you convulse, and you wail, blurting out Roger’s name, clenching down on him. Your blood roars in your ears, and you’ve never come so hard in your life.

Roger moans out, “Fuck,” and then pumps once, twice more, and then comes, groaning your name, a shudder ripping through him.

When he comes back to himself, blinking his big blue eyes at you, you can’t help but think he looks otherworldly. His face, pink, shines with sweat, as does his whole body. Locks of hair stick to his forehead, his temples. His mouth hangs open, and his chest heaves, and maybe it’s the ten-out-of-ten orgasm you just had, but in that moment, you kinda want to marry him.

He takes the hand you’ve tangled in the sheets, and presses a kiss to your wrist. Your heart just about explodes. “You all right?”

You splutter. “All right? The fuck’s that meant to mean?”

Roger smiles, massaging the palm of your hand with his thumb. “I mean, are you hurting anywhere?”

My heart hurts from you being all hot and perfect and stupidly romantic, you think. “No,” you say. “I’m just fine.”

He pulls out of you, carefully, and it does nothing but reignite a spark of arousal within you. Then he collapses onto the bed beside you with an unmistakable dad noise, and takes off the spent condom, tying it off and tossing it into the rubbish bin beside his bed. When that’s done, he wastes no time in rolling onto his side and pulling you in for a kiss. You hum happily, shifting closer to him, not even caring about the sweat and how wet you are all over your inner thighs.

When he breaks away, he says, “So. How do you feel?”

“Like I just had the biggest orgasm of my life,” you say.

Roger chuckles. “I meant now that you’re, y’know…”

It clicks. “Now I’ve lost my virginity?” you say playfully. “Had my sexual debut? I’ve become a woman?”

“Not that any of it matters, of course,” Roger adds. “But it’s still… It can be a big thing.”

You give him a soft kiss. “Yeah, it doesn’t matter,” you say. “Virginity is nothing but a social construct and all of that.”

“Of course,” Roger reiterates.

“But I feel… happy.” You hope your grin isn’t as cheesy as it feels. “It’s nice to not have to… worry about it anymore, I suppose? I don’t know if I was really worrying about it before, but it… I don’t know.” You shrug. “I just had a really good time. That’s all that matters.”

“Good.” Roger’s hand goes to your hip, squeezing it. “I’m glad.”

“Did…” You lick your lips. “Did you have a good time?”

“Did I have a good time?” Roger repeats, almost aghast. “Are you joking?”

“Even though I had no idea what I was doing?”

“You’re a natural.”

You laugh. Your stomach squirms – both because of those ridiculous maybe-almost-could-be feelings, and because, even though you know in your mind that the whole sex part of the evening is over, your body certainly isn’t ready to throw in the towel just yet.

Your thighs clench together, but you do your best to hide how it feels. You don’t want to be greedy.

Roger feels your thighs move under his hand, though, and he looks to you questioningly. “Are you still–”

“No, no, I’m fine,” you say lightly, shaking your head. “I was just moving around.”

Roger pauses, and then says, “All right.” He kisses you, and then takes a moment to gather his energy before he sits up. “I’ll get us some water.” He turns to you, pointing a finger at you, as if something just occurred to him. “You should go pee.”

Your eyes widen, and you nod. “Oh, yes, good thinking.”

“Bathroom’s just there,” he says, gesturing across the room at the closed door.

“You have an en suite?”

“Well, yeah. Much easier when there’s kids around.” His face falls a little. “Not that I’ve had the kids here very often recently, but uh…”

“I’m sorry,” you say.

He shakes his head. “Sorry. It’s fine. Great way to bring down the mood, eh?” He leans down again to kiss you, and then stands up, stretching. “Be back in a mo’.”

You watch him, your gaze hawk-like, as he pulls on his neon-green underwear and disappears out the door, raking his hand through his hair as he goes.

Your thighs clench together again, and you whimper.

You try to push it aside, and slide off the bed to go the bathroom, pulling on your underwear as you go. You don’t exactly feel like putting your push-up bra back on, but you don’t want to just lounge around completely naked. Would it be too presumptuous to put on Roger’s shirt?

You bite your lip, considering, and then decide to just bite the bullet, slipping it on and buttoning it up. It’s comfy, and smells like him; you understand why women in movies do it now. You do have to call bullshit on wearing a man’s shirt like a short, cute dress though – it’s more just like a long shirt, and you’re glad you’ve chosen to put on underwear.

It feels odd to pee in a stranger’s house – even odder that it’s an en suite – but you’re thankful that you get a moment to properly gather yourself in private, instead of while being surrounded by the smell of sex.

It’s when you’re washing your hands that you finally get a look at yourself in the mirror. Your mouth drops open in horror.

You look like a fucking mess. Your foundation is patchy where you get oily and where you’ve sweated it off, and there’s a slight ring of smudged mascara under your eyes – honestly, you’re thankful that it’s not worse, and that your setting spray did at least something. Your hair, though, is the worst of it all. You look like you’ve been dragged through a bush backwards.

“Oh, shit,” you whisper to yourself. What can you do? You don’t have any make-up with you to try to fix the problems, but you can’t exactly take it off, either. You have no way to fix your hair. You untie it from the ponytail it was in and try to smooth it out, but it doesn’t really do much, so you tie it back up again, but it’s a shitty ponytail, so you untie it and try again. Then you try a third time, and give up, settling on the disaster that it is, and grab a tissue, blotting at your make-up.

You sigh, staring at your reflection. Well, fuck. What the fuck are you meant to do? How the hell can you go back into the bedroom, knowing you look like this?

“[Y/N]?” Roger calls. “You all right in there, love?”

You shiver. God, the way he says the word ‘love’. The way he says your name.

You clear your throat. “Um, yeah, I’m– I’m fine. Just…” You can’t say you’re still peeing. Oh, fuck, what if he thinks you’re taking a shit or something? “I’m just fixing up my make-up.”

“I think there might still be some make-up wipes in a drawer somewhere, if you want to have a look,” Roger says. “Maybe they’re no good anymore, I’m not sure.”

You have a dig around, and find a packet. It’s already been opened, quite a while ago by the looks of it. Must be Roger’s ex-wife’s.

The thought of that sits weirdly with you, but you’re not quite sure why. Almost like you feel like you’re intruding, maybe. You certainly don’t feel like you belong here, in this bougie, nice house.

You sigh again, and pull out a handful of make-up wipes, seeing if there’s any that still hold any moisture. One in the middle has a little bit, so you carefully run it under your eyes, and lightly tap it over your forehead and down your neck to soothe your skin, fixing up any problem areas as best you can without it being too obvious that you’ve just wiped off the make-up.

The end result is fine. Not good, and certainly not great, but… yeah. Fine.

You throw the make-up wipes into the bin, take a deep breath, and exit the bathroom.

Roger’s on his phone, and he looks up when he hears the door open. His face goes slack when he sees you. “You’re wearing my shirt?”

“Isn’t that what girls are meant to do after sex?” you joke.

“I just haven’t seen, um, anyone do that in… in a long time,” he says, somewhat stilted, and he glances down at his hands. He quickly turns his eyes back to you. “It looks good. Really good.”

“Thank you,” you say, and pad over to the bedside table near him, where he has two glasses of water waiting. “Which one’s mine?”

“On the left.” Roger sets his phone down and watches you as you take a sip of water.

He’s close to you, and, like before you kissed for the first time, you’re hyperaware of every movement. But he barely moves, just waits for you.

When you put the water down, you hesitate. You want to climb on top of him, kiss him, feeling his arms around you again, but is that too much? Does he want you to go? Are you overstaying your welcome?

“You all right?” he asks gently.

You nod. “Um, yeah,” you say, and take a step back. “You probably, um, have work or something tomorrow, so I should go.”

You don’t miss the way Roger’s face falls a bit. “Oh, you want to go?”

No. “Well, it– I don’t want to impose…”

“If you want to go, then I’ll order an Uber for you,” Roger says. “But don’t feel like you have to go if you don’t want to.”

The Amazonian butterflies are back yet again. “I…”

“Because – and correct me if I’m wrong,” Roger says, reaching out and tugging on his shirt, pulling you closer, and you go without any resistance, “but I think you were telling a bit of a fib before, when you said you were… what did you say? Just moving around?”

You press your lips together as Roger guides you between his legs, and he tilts his head back to gaze up at you. He smiles at the look on your face. “Am I right?”

You can feel your face heating up again. “No,” you mumble unconvincingly, hiding your smile behind your hand.

“No hands over mouths,” Roger murmurs, reaching up and taking yours. “You don’t have to hide.”

Fuck. Oh, fuck. His voice sounds like a warm fireplace feels, and you barely even know him, but you’ve never felt safer, more comfortable, around a man. You can’t pretend now – you’re really starting to like him.

Roger raises his eyebrows at you, just a touch, searching your face. “So? Am I right?”

“It’s fine,” you say, shaking your head. “I’m fine, really. You’ve done plenty, I… I can’t ask for more.”

Roger hums, and presses a kiss to your palm before letting your hand go. “All right, okay,” he says. “I was wrong, I see. Can I at least tell you what I’d do to you if I had been right?”

You breathe in shakily, and nod once.

The corner of Roger’s mouth quirks up. “Well,” he says slowly, “first I’d kiss you, of course. And, as hot as you look wearing nothing but my shirt and your knickers, I’d undress you again. Get you lying down on your back, all spread out for me. I’d kiss you some more. Then I think I’d choke you, because you seem to like that a lot, yeah?”

You nod, hypnotised.

Roger nods as well. “Right. And then, while I was holding you down by your throat–”

You gulp.

“–I’d get my other hand, and I’d–”

“Okay, yes, you were right,” you blurt out, and grab his face, ducking down to kiss him desperately. He kisses you with just as much hunger, and nudges you a few steps back, giving him enough room so he can stand up and start unbuttoning the shirt. As soon as he’s done, your shrug it from your shoulders, and Roger pulls you closer by your ass. One hand moves to cup your jaw, his tongue pressing against yours. It doesn’t take long before the hand shifts to your throat, and you whimper softly, urging him to tighten his grip.

He does, and the feeling of it goes straight to your core. Your hands clutch at him frantically.

He lets go of your throat, and you suck in a gasp, then latch onto his neck, kissing and nipping and sucking at his skin, licking off the salty traces of sweat.

“Careful, love, careful,” he says shakily. “I can’t turn up to work looking like I’ve been attacked by a vacuum.”

You huff, but soften your kisses. He moans under his breath, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard anything hotter.

Soon, you break away, and crawl back onto the bed, and he follows you, positioning himself on all fours above you to kiss you deeply, his knee slotting into between your thighs. He presses it against your core, and you instinctively grind against it, shuddering when it fires an electric shock of arousal through your system. Roger shifts, readjusting his balance so he can bring his hand back to your throat, and you welcome it. You grind against his leg again.

It’s when you have to stop kissing him, your brain going into overdrive trying to force you to focus on breathing, you have to breathe, that Roger sits back, moving his leg out of the way and replacing it with his other hand.

“Fuck, Roger,” you gasp, twitching under his grip, your hands vice-like on his forearm. Your eyes slide closed, revelling in the way your head swims, the way your body fights to suck as much oxygen as it can into your lungs. You’re still so wet from before, still so stretched out, that Roger slides two fingers into you at the same time with ease, and you let out a stuttering moan, bucking your hips into his hand. His fingers swirl around your clit, hitting it in just the right way, and within minutes you’re almost there.

“Most people think the best part about getting choked is the actual ‘getting choked’ part,” Roger says out of the blue, and you frown, trying to follow, opening your eyes.

“Hear me out,” Roger says casually, pushing his fingers back into you and flicking your clit with his thumb, and you whine. “Are you close, love?”

You nod.

Roger hums. “You look so good like this. Does it feel good?”

You nod again. “Mm-hm.”

“Yeah, looks like it does. Looks like you enjoy it.”

“Ah, Roger, please.”

“It’s all right, love, I’ve got you.” Roger’s fingers quicken their pace, and you make a sound, squirming.

“As I was saying,” Roger continues, “people think the best part of getting choked is actually getting choked. But it’s not. The best part of it is actually being let go. Do you want to see?”

You nod, barely even listening to what he’s saying. You’re too close to coming to pay attention.

And then Roger lets go of your throat at the same time he brushes your clit, and a rush of oxygen flows into your lungs, a rush of blood flows back to your head, and your orgasm slams into you, and the world seems so much brighter in that moment. “Oh, fuck, fuck,” you gasp, your back arching, your eyes wide.

It feels like it goes on for a lifetime, although perhaps that’s just your mind trying to sort itself out. When you do finally start to come down from your high, you realise you’re shaking, and Roger is grinning at you. You blink at him owlishly.

“Wh– Huh?” you breathe, your heart racing, and Roger laughs.

“So you’re alive, then,” he teases, and leans down to kiss you.

You grab onto him, kissing him soundly, and roll the both of you over, so you’re straddling him. You just stay like that, just making out, letting the frenzied kisses lull themselves into something slower, something calmer. Just kissing for the sake of it. Roger’s hands stroke up and down your back, and you could almost fall asleep like this.

Speaking of falling asleep – you have to break away, hiding your yawn by tucking your face into his chest. Roger hums, and you can feel it vibrating against your body. You smile. “Sorry,” you mumble.

“Can hardly blame you,” Roger says, his voice low. “It’s late.”

You let yourself slump against him, a moment of pure self-indulgence, and then roll to the side, dumping yourself onto the bed. You groan, unable to stop yourself from instinctively shifting into a more comfortable position for sleeping, your arm beneath your head like a pillow, your eyes closing.

“I’m sorry,” you say again, muffled by your arm. “I’ll leave in a minute.”

Roger says nothing, and you feel your stomach coil in guilt. God, he wanted you to leave fifteen minutes ago, didn’t he? He was just too polite to say anything. And then you pressured him into making you come again, because you were too selfish to know when enough was enough. Great, fucking great, you’ve fucked it all up, and you’re a huge piece of shit, and you–

“Did you want to stay the night?” Roger asks tentatively.

Your eyes fly open, and you shift up onto your elbow. “What?” you say. “Stay?”

Roger glances away from you. “It– It was just a suggestion,” he says. “Just an idea, I don’t know. I, um – it’s just late, and I don’t want you travelling all that way on your own. You can, obviously, if you want to, that’s up to you, I just…”

You’re hardly even listening. You’re still struggling to drink in the first thing he said. “You want me to stay?” you ask.

Roger looks to you, and bites his bottom lip. “If– Well, if you want to, then, um, yes, I’d like you to. But only if you want to.”

You beam, and your heart triples in size. “Um, yes. I’d like to.”

Roger smiles back. “Good. Great. That’s–” He clears his throat. “Did you want to have a shower?”

“I think so,” you say with a laugh. “I’m…” You went to say I’m so disgusting right now, but you don’t want to fuck up your now-sleepover before it’s even properly begun. “Yes please.”

“Well, you know where the bathroom is,” Roger says, nodding towards the en suite. “There’s a spare toothbrush in the drawer, if I remember correctly. I’ll get you a towel.”

“You’re not coming into the shower with me?” you ask coyly.

Roger blinks, and you laugh.

“Oh,” he says. “You were joking.”

“I wasn’t,” you say. “You just made me laugh.”

Roger swoops down to steal a kiss, and you don’t let him leave, pushing up into him, stealing a few kisses back.

“Let me get you a towel,” he says, and then climbs off the bed and pads out of the room.

You bite on your finger to stop yourself from making some stupid giggle, or maybe a dumb squealing sound like a little girl. He asked you to stay the night. He wants you to stay the night.

Oh, shit, you realise, your finger dropping from your mouth. Justine. You never told her what was happening.

Where’s your phone? In the living room. Spitting out a curse, you pull on your underwear and Roger’s shirt again, and hurry out. You run into Roger, arms full of sheets, in the hallway. “Hey, is everything all right?” he says. “What did you forget?”

“I never told my roommate I wasn’t coming home,” you say. “Last she heard, I was about to book an Uber.”

Roger’s eyes go a little wider. “Shit, whoops. Yeah, go tell her.”

You shoot him a smile, and scurry off to the living room. Your phone is on the couch, and you snatch it up. Wow, shit, it is late. You’re glad you only have an afternoon lecture tomorrow.

Thankfully, just one message from Justine, from about half an hour ago. hey, haven’t heard from u in a while. just send me a message when u get this ok? xx

You respond. fuck sorry, left my phone in the other room. I have SO MUCH to tell u omg, but in a nutshell uhh we ended up sleeping together, it was fucking amazing, and now he’s asked me to stay over, so ill see u at uni tomorrow maybe? if not then at home xx

You keep your phone in hand, and head back to Roger’s room. He’s started cleaning up in the minute you were gone, stripping the bed. Fresh sheets sit on the floor. “What’s this?” you ask.

“I’m making the bed,” Roger says simply, tugging a pillow from its case. “I’m too old to be sleeping on sheets I’ve just had sex on. Let me tell you, it makes a difference. And the sheets were due for a change, anyway.”

You step forward. “Well, let me help.”

“Don’t be silly, jump in the shower.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” You set your phone down beside his on the bedside table, and together the two of you help remake his bed.

Roger chases you into the shower then, and says he’s going to tidy up the room a little more before he joins you. “I’m on a roll now,” he says, picking up your shoes from where you kicked them aside during the bed-making. “Can’t stop, won’t stop.”

You take the make-up wipes. The door is about halfway open, and you can hear Roger moving around, hear when he trips over something and hisses out a curse, making you smile.

The make-up wipe freezes in the air near your eye. You can’t very well have a shower and go to bed without taking your make-up off – it does not make even a vague semblance of a pretty picture – but this is… way more intimate than you were expecting. Why didn’t you think of this when you agreed to stay over? Roger’s going to see you without your make-up on, with your hair tied up in a bun. He’s going to see you in the morning, all bleary-eyed and disgusting. Fuck, morning breath. You have the spare clothes you brought that you can change into tomorrow, but no extra underwear. Nothing to wear tonight. It’s a miracle that Roger even has a spare toothbrush. What time does he get up for work? Will he expect you to leave before he wakes up?

Are you a one-night-stand? Is that what this is? Are you asked to stay the night if you’re nothing but a one-night-stand, or does the fact that he asked you mean something else?

“Is your roommate all right?” Roger asks, coming to the door, leaning against the doorjamb. “No freak-outs?”

You lower the make-up wipe. “Um, no. It’s all fine, I think.”

“Have you found the toothbrush?”

“No, I haven’t checked yet.”

Roger moves around you, pulling open the drawer and rummaging through. “Ah, here it is. Still in the packet! How good am I?”

You smile as he presents it to you like it’s a medal of honour. “Thanks.”

“Sorry about the make-up wipes,” Roger says. “They’re not great.” He huffs, and then leans against the edge of the sink, rubbing his hands down his face. “I’m sorry,” he says again. “I’m… I’m actually really nervous.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Nervous?” you repeat. “About what?”

“About… you staying over,” he confesses. “It’s been, I don’t know, ten years since I’ve had anyone new sleep over. My brain is suddenly filled with every annoying thing I do when I sleep. And I look awful in the mornings, let me tell you. If you think I look bad now, just you wait.”

“Who says I think you look bad now?” you say. “I thought I made it perfectly clear that I think you’re a hot piece of ass, Roger.”

Roger splutters, flustered, and you grin.

“I move around a lot,” he says. “When I sleep. So be prepared to cop an elbow to the face.”

“Don’t you worry, I’m a heavy sleeper,” you say. “And I move around, too.”

“I run hot,” Roger adds. “I’m like a space heater. And sometimes I talk in my sleep, but only when I’m really stressed about something, like work. I can be really very clingy.”

“I run cold,” you say with a shrug. “So clingy suits me fine.”

Roger pauses, staring at you, like he wasn’t expecting an answer like that. Then he snaps out of it, glancing away. “Sorry,” he says for a third time.

“Don’t apologise,” you say, shaking your head. “You don’t have to. I’m nervous, too. Like, really fucking nervous. I’m– I’m too nervous to even take my make-up off.”

Roger’s eyes search your face. “I won’t care what you look like,” he says gently. “I’m sorry that you feel nervous about taking it off. But it won’t matter, I promise.”

“Just wait and see,” you joke in a sing-song voice.

Roger is silent for a few moments, and then he says, “Well, I hope you’re ready. I’m going to kiss the bloody daylight out of you when you take it off.”

You don’t know how to respond. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I’m going to. I’m going to do whatever it takes to make sure you don’t feel uncomfortable without make-up on. And if that means I have to keep kissing you all night as a reminder that it doesn’t matter what you look like without make-up, then that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.”

You duck your head, making a disgruntled sound. Why does he have to say cute shit like that? Why must he make you suffer?

Roger pushes the packet of make-up wipes a little closer to you, waggles his eyebrows at you, making you giggle, and then reaches across you for his toothbrush.

You start wiping off your make-up.

Roger waits until you’ve finished taking it off, until you’ve brushed your teeth, until you’re well and truly left without anything to do, and then he cups your face in his hands and does exactly what he promised he’d do.

One steamy make-out session and one far-too-long shower later, you’re sitting on the newly-made bed, wrapping in a towel, the strands of hair that slipped loose from your bun sticking to your neck and temples. You’re watching Roger pull on a pair of underwear and rifle through his chest of drawers. He pulls out a huge shirt, clearly worn and well-loved, and turns to you, holding it out. “I went on a day trip once to Brighton,” he says. “We were out to a pub and I spilled red wine all over my shirt. Had to buy a new one. Sent one of my mates to get it for me and he came back with this. Hence why I have a shirt about five sizes too big for me.”

“You didn’t have to explain,” you say with a chuckle, taking it from him.

“I feel like I did,” Roger says. “I, um, usually use it as a sleep shirt when I travel.”

You slip it on, and then stand up, letting your towel drop to the floor. The shirt is long enough to cover everything, but you’re not about to bend down any time soon.

You glance over at your underwear, where they’re in a pile near the door. Should you put them back on?

“Please don’t,” Roger blurts.

You look to him. “Huh?”

His face goes red. “Um. I just– I– You– I saw you look over there, and–” He rubs his hand along his jaw. “I, um…” He looks to the ceiling, and says it in a rush. “I’m sorry this sounds awful but I saw you looking over at your knickers and I don’t want you to put them on because you look really hot wearing my shirt and the thought of you wearing nothing underneath makes my brain explode.”

“You’re one to talk,” you say, “standing in front of me in nothing but a pair of boxers like that doesn’t make my brain explode.”

Roger’s eyes flick towards yours, and he breaks out into a smile, and then laughs. “I guess we’re even, then.”

“We’ll be truly even when I see you wearing my clothes,” you say teasingly.

Roger steps in close, his hands coming to your waist. “I don’t think your dress would fit properly, love.”

“I’ll have to come better prepared next time,” you say, and Roger hums, leaning in to give you a kiss.

Next time. Next time. You said ‘next time’. Talk about presumptuous. Christ! What is wrong with you?

You break away. “Not that I think there’ll be a next time,” you say quickly. No. Bad phrasing. “I don’t want to assume there’ll be a next time.” Still bad. “I don’t want you to think that I think there has to be a next time.” Even worse. “I don’t want you to feel obliged to have a next time if you don’t want there to be.” Better. Not great, but passable.

“I want a next time,” Roger says. “If you want one.”

“I do,” you say, God, far too eager. “I’d really like there to be a next time.”

“Me too,” Roger says.

You press into him for another kiss, and then, finally, the two of you make it to bed.

Once you’re under the covers, you almost fall asleep immediately. You didn’t realise how exhausted you are. Roger reaches over and switches off the light, and then wraps an arm around your stomach, his front against your spine. You allow yourself to smile freely in the dark, even as your eyes close and you drift off to sleep.

~~~

“I’m… I’m going to send you the rest of the payment,” Roger says. He’s dressed for work, just in a white dress shirt and black slacks, and you’d been admiring him and enjoying the coffee he’d made you after you’d gotten out of the shower. It’s early – too early, for both of you.

But now your stomach drops, and you lower your mug of coffee from your lips. “You are?”

“Yes,” Roger says.

“You don’t have to,” you say. “I said it last night, I don’t care about the money.”

“I know,” Roger says. “But it’s still right. You started this whole thing to help pay the bills, and it’s not your fault that there was that whole mix-up. You don’t deserve to miss out on getting the money you’ve rightfully earned.”

“You don’t deserve to fork out that much money because of that whole mix-up,” you say. “You’ve already paid half of it. And it’s– it’s quite a fair bit, Roger.”

“I can afford to pay it,” Roger says. “I’m living more than comfortably. Giving you the money you’ve earned would just mean that I can’t, I don’t know, travel overseas this year.” He raises his eyebrows a touch. “Well, now that I might not have to be paying for three kids as well, maybe I’ll still be able to afford to go.” He shakes his head. “That’s beside the… My point is, I can afford it. And you deserve it.”

You don’t know what to say. “Roger…”

“Just let me,” he says earnestly. “Please. I want to.”

You open and close your mouth a few times. God, you’d be mad to turn down the money. But it doesn’t feel right. Does it? You don’t even know what to think.

You glance down at your mug. “All right,” you say quietly, so much so that you’re not even sure if he can hear you. But you can’t bring yourself to speak any louder. “Thank you, Roger.”

“Hey.”

You look up at him, and he smiles. “You can pay me back by letting me take you out to dinner.”

Your face immediately grows hot. “Suave motherfucker,” you say, and he laughs.

“I still have a few tricks up my sleeve,” he says playfully.

Your stomach squeezes. “Sure,” you say. “But I’m paying.”

Roger snorts. “Not bloody likely.”

“I’ll fight you for the cheque, don’t think I won’t.”

“Maybe I’ll just sneakily pay for it before you’ve even realised.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Can we settle on going Dutch?”

Roger sips his coffee. “All right,” he says eventually.

“Good.”

He takes out his phone, holding it out to you. “Text me some time during this week,” he says. “About where you want to go. Or just text me if you want to say hi. Or call me. Y’know, whatever.”

You tilt your head to the side as you take his phone. “That wasn’t quite as suave, I have admit.”

Roger sighs. “Damn.”

You laugh, and send a quick text to yourself, then slide the phone back to him.

He seems extremely pleased, but he takes a casual drink from his coffee like he’s trying to hide it, and you can’t help but think it’s horribly cute.

He shoots a glance at you, and sees you grinning at him, and his cheeks turn pink, and he clears his throat, turning away to the sink to rinse his mug out.

~~~

You’re at uni, half-asleep, shuffling back to the bus stop after your never-ending lecture, when Justine barrels into you, grabbing your elbow so tightly that you yelp. “What the fuck happened last night?” she exclaims.

You don’t know why it hadn’t been awkward this morning. Apart from the money conversation. There had still been some nervousness, on your part anyway, but Roger had been too focused on getting ready for work to let any uncomfortable silences hang. You have to admit that it had been nice to wake up with someone’s arm around you, and you had been quietly delighted to see Roger fussing over the faint bruises on his neck, pulling up his shirt collar and adjusting his tie to try to cover them. After you’d both gotten ready for the day, he’d dropped you at the nearest bus stop. “And I will text you,” he’d said seriously. “Don’t think I won’t.”

“Good,” you’d said. “I’ll be waiting for it. Three days is the general rule, right?”

Roger had groaned. “Don’t make me wait three days.”

You had chuckled. “I’m not making you do anything.” You’d hesitated, and then said, “Is it weird if I kiss you before I go?”

Roger had taken a breath. “I… wouldn’t say so, no.”

So you’d leant in and kissed him, and he’d kissed you back, and you’d wanted to keep kissing him, but a car had pulled up behind you and honked, so you’d drawn back, whispered, “Bye,” and gotten out of the car.

Once you’d figured out how to get home, you’d crashed, sleeping until your alarm had woken you up again for your lecture.

“Stuff,” you say to Justine.

“Stuff?” Justine squawks. “Don’t give me that shit. You have to tell me literally everything, or I’m going to kill you. Come on.” She loops her arm through yours, and starts towing you towards the bus stop.

Your phone buzzes, and you pull it out of your pocket.

I know it hasn’t been three days, but it’s been more than three hours. Is that enough time, do you think?

You smile, reply, I think so, yeah, then quickly pocket the phone before Justine can sneak a glance as Amazonian butterflies flutter around in your stomach.

#queen fanfiction #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor imagine #rpf #mine #smut

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