#I just wanna be sure!! They all looked at it!! At least somewhat!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sanakiras · 10 months ago

Text

BLOOM FOR ME

PAIRING — finance major!mingyu x law major!reader

WORD COUNT — 18.1k

SYNOPSIS — even though you and mingyu share the same friends, there’s a clear distance between you. when you make a drunken mistake, he suddenly becomes increasingly aware of your lack of a relationship with him, and he takes on the challenge of changing it — not expecting to fall for the ice princess who turns out to be less cold than he thought.

TAGS — college au, slice of life, strangers to fwb to lovers, angst, fem!reader, slowburn-ish, rollercoaster of somewhat unrealistic events, minor use of the fake dating trope, not proofread, explicit sexual content, inexpressive!reader, fear of intimacy, once again a fic that seemed better in my head than the finished product but idc!

♪ — pearly drops - bloom for me,, kid cudi - kitchen,, the fugees & ms lauryn hill - killing me softly with his song

NOTE — sooo this fic is pure self-indulgence because i wrote mc as a character very similar to myself! some of these scenes are based on my own experiences :D my personality type is intj which i incorporated a lot here, do with that what you will x

you and kim mingyu just don't work.

to be honest, you don’t think you’ve ever met anyone who didn’t like him or get along with him. most people on campus either wanna be him or be with him — which makes sense, ‘cause he seems to have it all. he’s smart, talented, and awfully good-looking.

and in hindsight, you have no clue as to how or why you landed in his little clique a few months ago, which is composed of a bunch of guys who appear to have very little in common.

all you remember is how joshua, a pre-med student with a soft voice and a passion for playing guitar, introduced himself to you as you were both assigned to help out with student orientation week at the start of the new academic year, and the rest became history.

you’re not sure how he managed to wiggle his way into your personal life, or why he seems so goddamn keen to be there for that matter. the same goes for his friends — chan, seungcheol, soonyoung, minghao, seokmin and mingyu. you’re closest to joshua and seokmin, though you get along well with most of the group.

soonyoung is pursuing performing arts, and he’s loud — extremely loud. you like his sense of humor though. chan does theatre and has mentioned he wants to have his own dance studio later in life. seokmin also does theatre and is arguably the biggest ray of sunshine you’ve ever met. cheol is a business administration major, a great debater, has quite the fire in him, and he looks great in a suit. minghao is more reserved — a psychology major. very sweet and polite, likes to meditate and is surprisingly good at martial arts as well.

and then there’s mingyu.

he studies finance, though he’s considerably less obnoxious than most of the students who pursue said degree. from what you’ve gathered, he has quite the range of talents, which, in all fairness, is pretty impressive.

the guy might as well be the complete opposite of you. he’s popular, loud, outgoing, smiles a lot, known to have a real heart of gold. an entertainer.

you find yourself at the other end of the spectrum. much more on the quiet side, usually only speaking up if you deem it necessary with a sarcastic quip, more often skipping social gatherings than actually attending them.

yet in spite of your closed-off nature, the majority of people closest to you are extroverted, always trying to pull you with them in their adventures, though remaining respectful and understanding when you don’t come with — because that’s just the way you are.

perhaps that’s the sole reason why your relationship with mingyu can easily be described in a single word.

non-existent.

neither of you have anything against each other — it’s just that, out of the group, you seem to have the least of a connection with him. you certainly never do anything together or talk to one another when you’re not with the rest of the guys, and even during the moments you are, saying you’ve had a proper conversation with him would be an overstatement.

for the most part, aside from saying one-worded greetings and goodbyes, you pretty much just disregard the other’s existence.

or, well — that used to be the case.

because there’s this dirty secret the friend group doesn’t know about — and that’s that you and mingyu slept together.

it happened only a few weeks ago. it was supposed to be a simple, fun night dancing and letting loose at soonyoung’s party, which he hosted right after midterms were over. everyone got drunk, including you — way more drunk than usual, it was terrible — and the only thing you remember is waking up in a room you’d never seen before, a bed that definitely didn’t feel like the one you wake up in every morning, your clothes discarded on the floor, and his warm body next to yours.

had you been even the slightest bit sober back then, you absolutely wouldn’t have gotten into bed with him.

it’s not that you don’t find him attractive. on the contrary. he’s sex on a stick, with his strong arms, small waist, sharp jawline and beautiful tan skin — it’s no surprise he’s done several modeling jobs for some extra cash.

but despite all of that, casual hook-ups with people in your circle are not your thing. they’re not his either.

neither of you remember much of that night. you two are rarely ever alone together, so it’s practically been impossible to talk to you about it, and you’ve never been close enough with one another to even text or meet up.

after the incident, you just continued living your life like everything was the same as before. honestly, for the most part, it was.

but mingyu likes to take risks in life. that, and being open about his feelings is just who he is. so he wants to talk to you, privately.

when he finally does manage to catch you alone, which happens to be right after you’ve walked out of your criminal law class, you’re not exactly welcoming to him.

“what are you doing at the other side of campus?” is all you greet him with.

“i’m good, thank you for asking.” he jokes in an attempt to make things more light-hearted, but you don’t pull a single muscle, face remaining the exact same, so he swallows and clutches the strap of his shoulder bag a little tighter. “i, uh... i felt like we should talk about what happened the other night. soonyoung’s party.”

“what’s there to talk about?”

“what we did. together.”

“we fucked. so what?”

oh. that’s a much more blunt response than he expected, even if he is used to those kind of remarks from you.

“well—” he cuts himself off, really cursing himself for not properly thinking of what to say to you before showing up outside of your lecture hall all of a sudden, “don’t you think it’s something we gotta discuss?”

“you want a professional analysis about how much i enjoyed it or something?” you ask with a furrowed brow. “not that i’d be able to give you one, considering it was all just a blur.”

“yeah, i can’t exactly remember much of it either. look, i... i don’t usually hook up with people i’m friends with—”

“except we’re not friends. i don’t think you’ve ever said as much to me as you have in this conversation.”

even though it’s true, it does feel like a slap across the face for a reason he can’t pinpoint. he’s aware you can be blunt sometimes, but this is more than people usually get out of you.

“fine. we’re just acquaintances. but we do share the same friends.” he says after a moment of awkward silence, his tone sounding a little colder than before, subconsciously trying to compensate for your unwelcoming attitude. “doesn’t that matter to you?”

sucking at the inside of your cheek, you sigh. “did your roommate notice me?”

his roommate being jeon wonwoo, the cute computer science major who likes to spend his free time working out and playing video games, always walking around campus with headphones stuck in his ears and a pair of glasses up on his nose. he and mingyu are both on the football team, you’re pretty sure.

“no. he didn’t see a thing. not as far as i know, anyway.”

“good. so that means we can both just pretend it never happened, yeah?” the smile you put on your face is so painfully fake that it makes him clench his jaw.

“yeah.” he mumbles bitterly, and you move away from him, going down the stairs, and mingyu rests his head against the wall, huffing in annoyance and embarrassment.

to be completely honest, he’s not sure why the whole ordeal bothers him so much. what you said was all true, even if you could’ve worded it differently.

many, many questions pop up in his mind. do you have something against him? do you not like him? if that’s the case, why? has he ever said something that caused you to get a bad impression of him? what do his friends have that he doesn’t, aside from considerably shorter legs?

he’s not sure what it is about you he finds so weirdly intriguing, but whatever it is, he’s discovered a fresh determination in him to find out.

mingyu is unsure of how to handle the situation with you. every time you look at him, all he sees is utter disinterest, though there’s very little he can make out of your facial expressions in the first place.

he finds himself seated at a table in the library with minghao, seungcheol and chan, pondering over the exam he’s got coming up at the end of the week, said thoughts coming to a halt once he spots you at the other side of the hall.

his gaze involuntarily follows you as you appear to be scanning a few bookshelves.

if he’s being honest, he’d already noticed you before the drunk-sex incident. he always thought you were pretty, and based on your your vocabulary and the way you spoke, he figured you were intelligent as well, so he silently admired you from afar.

and now, those feelings have only increased.

his eyes linger on your figure. it’s such a fucking shame he doesn’t remember his hands on your skin, the touch of your lips — he could actually cry just imagining it.

then he feels he’s getting too far in the sexual innuendos in his head, so he tells himself to stop right the hell now before his excitement starts to show in his pants.

god, he’s never like this. why is it irking him so much?

it’s chan — the youngest of the group — who grabs your attention, beckoning for you to come over to the table.

when you move to sit down on the empty chair between him and seungcheol, they begin to talk about how the shitty assignments they’re working on are so not worth their time, how one of cheol’s professors didn’t bother showing up for his lecture yesterday morning, and minghao mentions something about a new group project of his—

—and the whole fucking time, you feel mingyu’s gaze burning on you.

it both confuses and intrigues you. what the hell does he want now?

then when two of the boys get into a discussion, you stare right back at him, almost as if to tell him you’re aware of him watching you and you’re watching him as well, and a very thick yet silent tension rises between you.

he swears he catches the smallest glimpse of amusement in your features before you get up and tell them you’ve got to go to your lecture.

cheol raises his thick brow at his friend. “you’re uncharacteristically quiet.”

mingyu shrugs as he watches you walk out of the hall. “yeah, sorry. been a little preoccupied.”

“i can tell, ‘cause aren’t you supposed to be starting football practice right now?”

that snaps him out of it. he checks the silver watch sitting on his wrist, cursing to himself before grabbing his things and hastily throwing them into his bag before sprinting to his dorm.

the following day, as he’s working on his assignment, he decides to take out his phone, typing your username into the search bar on instagram.

your social media profile is as mysterious as you are. zero posts, some pretty aesthetic pictures found in your highlights as well as one or two with you on it, though blurry or with your face partially hidden.

it’s usually much easier for him to get close to people, yet with this, with you — it feels like the way is blocked, and he doesn’t know where to start.

tapping his finger on the table, he tells himself to make some kind of conversation with you the next time he sees you.

which is several days later, when the friend group is meeting up at a restaurant for dinner and drinks.

by the time he arrives — later than planned due to a study session running behind — everyone is already seated, including you. he’d hoped to secure a spot next to you for once, but you’re seated between joshua and seungcheol instead. the only vacant spot is at the other side of the table.

well, shit.

the worst thing is that you don’t seem to spare him a single glance. every time he looks your way, you’re either zoned out or intently listening to the boys around you as they tell their stories, with you throwing in a sarcastic little quip every now and then, making them laugh.

what he doesn’t notice is that you do look at him — he’d be surprised by the amount of times your eyes wander back to him, subtly observing him from a distance when he rambles about something his professor did during class or what went down during football practice.

he’s so handsome that it almost gets annoying to look at him.

it’s an hour before midnight when you decide to get going — you have an unnecessarily early class tomorrow and still gotta get back to your dorm. so you grab your coat and bag, announcing you’re leaving, after which they say they don’t like the idea of you going back on your own, but you refute it and tell them you’ll be fine like always.

“i can take you. i just remembered i gotta catch up with some things anyways before class tomorrow.”

mingyu’s sudden statement makes you blink at him a few times.

it’s not that he’s never offered to take you home before, ever the gentleman, but the situation always ends up with you either going home on your own with them keeping an eye on your location or one of the other guys taking you back, so his sudden eagerness to escort you to your dorm catches you by surprise.

it’s mainly joshua and minghao who catch onto your slight change in demeanor, but their puzzled looks are gone as soon as they came. they’ve had quite a few drinks, after all, and you’re pretty sure soonyoung is so drunk he’s on the verge of tears at the other side of the table, distracting them.

both you and mingyu say your goodbyes to the rest of the group before exiting the restaurant, embracing the fresh air outside.

it’s early october, your favorite time of year. you’re fond of the cloudy skies, the temperature right between warm and cold, and the leaves changing colors.

mingyu walks next to you on the sidewalk, his hands shoved into the pockets of his dark denim jacket.

“i’m sorry for being rude the other day,” you speak up, breaking the silence, “i have a habit of being too straightforward for my own good.”

oh.

he didn’t expect this from you, but it’s a pleasant surprise, even if you’re not looking him in the eye at all.

so he shrugs. “it’s okay. looking back, i didn’t really know where i wanted the conversation to go, anyways.”

“i assumed you were just gonna ask me to keep it between us.”

“i didn’t even think about that, to be honest. i just don’t do stuff like that with friends, so... i guess i was just curious about your thoughts or something.”

you bare your teeth in a bitter smile, still refraining from looking in his direction when he’s clearly looking at your face. “you called me your friend again.”

the comment doesn’t sit right with him. “do you mind me asking why that bothers you?”

“it bothers me ‘cause it’s not the truth.”

god, you certainly do not sugarcoat things.

“do you... is there anything i did to make you dislike me?”

mingyu watches the way you clench your jaw at his question. it intrigues him. “i never said i disliked you, mingyu. i’m just picky about who i consider close to me and i don’t want anyone to get the wrong impression. sharing friends doesn’t make us friends.”

“not even a little bit?”

you chuckle again. he wonders what he’d have to do to elicit a real, genuine laugh from you. “name one of my hobbies. something i like to do in my spare time. the basics don’t count.”

he eagerly starts his sentence. “well, you like to... y’know... hang out with us.”

“i said no basics.”

“okay. fine. you got me. but, to be fair, you also gotta admit you don’t exactly share much.”

“you know who i do share things with? my friends.” you tease him, after which he laughs. you like the sound of his laugh.

“you’re evil.”

“thank you.”

he turns around, walking backwards in front of you so he can face you, finally getting the eye contact he’s been waiting to get. “i wanna be friends.”

“congratulations.”

“oh, c’mon. work with me here.”

“i would if it wasn’t so much fun to see you acting like this.”

mingyu feels a certain excitement rushing through his body when he sees how you look at him. “let’s get to know each other better. how about twenty questions?”

“oh, you mean like a conversation?”

he chooses to ignore your sarcasm for now. “i’ll go first. what’s a hobby of yours?”

“such depth,” you snicker, “i like to ice skate.”

“really? that’s cool.” he smiles, tilting his head. “okay. you gotta ask me a question now.”

“which of your friends is closest to you?”

yeah, he should’ve seen something like that coming. of course you wouldn’t go for small talk.

he ponders over the question before giving his answer. “minghao.”

“hm. interesting.” you just hum, clearly having no intention of explaining it, so you gesture for him to come up with another question.

“do you think you’ll ever be close with me?”

“no.”

“why?”

“not your turn.” you tell him, simultaneously trying to find out how far you can take this. “how many girls have you slept with?”

“four. why do you think we won’t ever be close friends?”

“because we’re too different. you can’t stand the fact that i give nothing away, i can sense it a mile from here.”

“it’s not that.”

“what is it then?”

“i’m… i don’t know, a people person. i want to get along with everyone, want everyone i like to like me. maybe that’s selfish, but… yeah. i like you and i wanna be your friend. it bothers me that you don’t.” he feels the words suddenly tumbling out of his mouth are taking the conversation elsewhere, so he tries his best to not come across as too intense. “i’m sorry for pestering you about it, i’ll just... walk you to your dorm and leave you be.”

he wants to increase the distance between you, but you don’t let him. your hand moves to his upper arm, touching him, but it’s gone before he can even look at it.

physical touch has never been one of your strong points, despite craving it at the same time. “i’m gonna say it one more time and that’s it — i don’t dislike you. maybe… i don’t know, maybe we could have a strong friendship, who knows. if you wanna prove me wrong, be my guest. i won’t stop you.”

“okay. anything i should know?”

you pout your lips as you think of things to mention. “i’m not a huge fan of texting. i prefer calling or meeting up in person. i’m more of a listener than a talker. i’m also a bit of a control freak so i’m not big on surprises. that’s all you’re getting for now.”

he thinks over your words and smiles. “i can work with that.”

not much later, you arrive at the university campus, and you use your card to enter your building, walking out front.

mingyu clearly feels it’s mandatory to follow you all the way to your door.

once you’ve arrived at your dorm, you lean against the doorpost. “thanks for taking me home.”

“you’re welcome. see you tomorrow.” he says. normally he’d give his friends something like a hug when saying goodbye like this, but he has a gut feeling you’re not very fond of physical contact with people who aren’t close to you, so he lets that go for now.

“bye.” the playful smile is audible in your voice before you close your door, and mingyu leaves your building with a sickeningly nice feeling in his stomach.

and he remains on your mind, especially once you watch him walk towards his own dorm from behind the window, unaware of your gaze.

it makes you scoff to yourself. you’ll give it to him — he’s sparked your interest.

“hey. mingyu.”

he’s roughly pulled from observing you in his secure spot in the university library by jeonghan, his partner for a project he’s working on. “what?”

“what’s going on? you’re awfully distracted.”

“it’s—nothing.” he responds, voice an octave higher. maybe he should quit this habit of looking at you every time he comes here.

“has anyone ever told you you’re a shitty liar?”

“many times, actually.”

“good. ‘cause you are.”

jeonghan is shorter than he is, with more of a lanky physique and slightly longer hair. he’s also the most annoying little shit mingyu knows — despite the guy being older than him — because he somehow. knows. everything. all the time. he knows things about mingyu before he knows them himself. if anything, it’s a talent.

“so who’s the girl?” jeonghan then asks in a more hushed tone, using his pencil to point at the girl in question.

mingyu looks in your direction again, taking notice of how nice you look today, and he just gives in to his friend, not even bothering to try and act stupid. “friend of a friend.”

“what does she do?”

“law.”

“she nice?”

“to a specific group of people, yeah.”

“oh, she’s a little mean to you, huh?”

“not mean. just distant. very distant.”

“that’s new.”

“what is?”

“you going for girls like that. it’s refreshing.”

“yeah, well—she doesn’t go for guys like me.”

“what do you mean?”

“i’m pretty sure she doesn’t like me at all. she’s wildly unimpressed by my presence, anyway.”

“how do you know?”

mingyu sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “she’s very close with joshua and seokmin, likes the rest of the guys too, but me… i don’t know. we’ve been in the same friend group for a year, and it’s like i’m the only one she doesn’t feel comfortable with. bothers me.”

“you’ve known her for a whole year and it’s only bothering you now?” jeonghan senses there’s more going on. “what led up to this? got into an argument?”

the younger of the two scoffs. “not at all. the contrary, actually.”

jeonghan jokingly throws in the first thing he can think of. “what, did you accidentally kiss her when you were drunk or something?”

“not entirely. we were both drunk, for starters.” mingyu comments, the next sentence muttered much more quietly. “and we had sex.”

a scoff of surprise leaves jeonghan’s mouth. “you slept together? when?”

“soonyoung’s party.”

“that was weeks ago. haven’t you talked about it? at all?” he asks, clearly invested in the story now.

“i brought it up, she brushed it off and said it meant nothing. told her i wanted to be friends with her a couple days later, but she said she doesn’t think we’ll ever be good friends ‘cause we’re too different, and it’s fucking killing me for some reason. she still said she was… open to friendship though.”

“ah, you like her.”

“yeah, obviously. problem is that she hates me.”

“no, i mean, you like her. you don’t just want to be her friend.”

mingyu is somewhat taken aback by his words. “i don’t have a crush.”

“don’t fool yourself. you’d never get this worked up over someone not wanting to be friends with you — you’re worked up because you wanna get to know her better and she doesn’t seem like she wants to get to know you at all.”

“i can’t be in love with someone i hardly know.”

“debatable. you still have a crush on her.”

“fine. whatever. say that were the case — purely hypothetical of course — what should i do to get her attention?”

jeonghan has that knowing smile on his face, the one that makes him look like he’s up to no good. “you gotta get a little selfish.”

“could you be a little less vague for once in your life?”

“create a circumstance where she spends time with you without it being planned.” he shrugs, as if that answers it. “something like getting stuck in an elevator for a few hours. you know what i mean.”

“well, unless you were planning on hijacking the elevator somehow, i don’t think i have all that many options.”

right there and then, the two recognize another student from their statistics class sitting a few tables further. she’s giggling to her friends about something, hesitantly looking their way, pointing at them.

“speaking of crushes, she’s got one on you.” jeonghan mentions, raising his brow.

it doesn’t interest mingyu all that much. “yeah, she asked me out a while back. i told her i was busy. didn’t have the heart to flat-out reject her. in hindsight, maybe i should’ve, ‘cause she acts like that every time i see her around.”

jeonghan can’t help but take advantage of the opportunity currently presenting itself like a fucking birthday cake. “are you thinking what i’m thinking?”

“probably not, since i have no idea what you’re getting at.”

he leans a bit closer to his taller friend, speaking in a more hushed tone this time. “you could reject her — subtly.”

mingyu frowns at that. “how?”

and jeonghan smirks a little to himself before he’s about to tell him his plan. “you’ve heard of fake dating before, right?”

the following day, you find yourself in the library of the law faculty, reviewing the slides of the lecture you didn’t feel like attending this morning.

someone drops their bag ever-so-subtly on the table at the empty spot next to you, and when you look up from your notes, you recognize your dearest acquaintance.

you huff, removing one of your earbuds to engage in the conversation you didn’t ask for. “what do you want?”

“you have got to stop saying that when you see me.”

“no, i like it this way.”

“of course you do.” mingyu merely scoffs at your words, sitting down next to you. “you look busy.”

“gee. it’s almost as if i am busy.”

“what’re you working on?”

“undoubtedly nothing you have any knowledge of.”

he rolls his eyes when you grin at him, clearly ready to dodge his questions with more of your sarcastic comments.

“are you always this much on edge?”

“mhm. i hope you are too — otherwise you’re taking up too much space.”

the comment has him frowning at first, and then he gets it, making him let out a vaguely impressed scoff. “you’re cute.”

“not exactly the word i would use.”

“really?” he says, taking the cap off his water bottle, “i think it suits you.”

you squint your eyes at him, finally taking the bait. “what do you want? seriously.”

he shifts in his seat, clearly happy you’re finally going along with him here. “you know the senior gala on thursday, right?”

“yeah. i’m not attending.”

“okay. here’s the thing — i kind of have this girl in one of my classes who won’t stop bothering me about going out on a date with her and stuff.”

“gosh, poor you.”

“i’m serious. it sucks.”

“what does this have to do with you bothering me?”

“well, i figured if she finally saw me with someone else, she’d back off.” he explains, leaning a bit closer to you. “meaning i need a plus-one who’s willing to play my girlfriend for the night.”

“so?”

“so, i’d like you to be my plus-one.” he grins.

“why?”

“why not?”

“you’re saying you wanna pretend to be dating?” you ask, and when he nods, you shake your head. “no one’s gonna believe that.”

“yeah, they will. it’s perfect. same friend group, completely different majors so she probably doesn’t know you — c’mon, consider it.”

he’s surprisingly convincing, as if he already knows how to crack your demeanor. you remain stubborn, though. “out of all the girls you’ve got in your contacts, you’re asking me?”

“you’ve made it clear we’re only acquaintances — i wanna change that. become friends. just like i told you.”

you finally lock eyes with him again, taking your pen away from the paper, refusing to back down once you notice how close he is. “i don’t know what you’re expecting, but you’d get nothing out of a friendship with me.”

he keeps his eyes on yours. “i’ll be the judge of that.”

when you roll your eyes at him, he can tell you’re considering it. “when does it start?”

“ten.”

“dress code?”

“go for a cocktail dress.”

twisting your lips, you push your tongue against the inside of your cheek, and even you are a little weak for those big, brown eyes of his. and you said you’d give him a chance, after all. “fine.”

“great!” he nearly jumps in excitement. “text me when you’re ready and i’ll come and pick you up.”

“yeah, yeah. now go. i got shit to do.”

and once you’ve watched him cheerfully skip out of your sight, the tiniest smile rises to your face, after which you chuckle to yourself.

mere days later, on thursday, mingyu finds himself at your doorstep. it’s not like him to feel nervous — so why the hell is he this time?

you open the door hastily. “hey. you can come on in, i’m all ready except for the pair of earrings i can’t seem to find.”

he watches as you search through small drawers in the cupboard by the wall. maybe he should be glad you’ve got your back faced to him, because he’s subconsciously staring at you, checking you out.

the velvet red one-shoulder dress hugs your features just right, and he’s stunned in his place before you notice he still hasn’t closed the door behind him. “mingyu. the door.”

“uh—yeah. sorry.” he stumbles, stepping inside, doing as he’s told before his eyes wander around your room. “don’t you have a roommate?”

“i used to have one, in my first year. got a single room after.”

“must get quiet after a while.”

“i like it that way.”

your words remind you of his roommate, wonwoo. he figures you’re someone who prefers solitude after a day of being around others, which he keeps in mind.

once you’ve found your earrings, you’re putting them in, and you notice him stepping closer to you. he actually looks criminally good in the black suit he’s wearing, his half-long hair sitting just right. the fucker might as well be a real-life prince charming.

you’re glad you went with smokey eyes. your look compliments his.

as you subtly watch him in the mirror, he comes to stand behind you, holding out the modest bouquet of red roses he’s been holding behind his back. “these are for you. i appreciate that you wanted to come with me tonight.”

the gesture makes your eyes soften. “thank you. oh, they smell nice.”

mingyu feels a little giddy inside when you give him a little smile before putting the flowers in a vase with water. it might be the first time he’s seen you give one that is genuine.

the gala is taking place at a fancy hotel close to university. the walk there only takes a few minutes. once you're nearing the entrance to the party, dimly lit chandeliers catching your eye, he gently puts his hand on your back, just underneath your shoulder blades. you raise a brow, looking over at him, and he shrugs. “i’m your fake boyfriend for the night, remember?”

which has you chortling for a second. “that’s not where to put your hands if you wanna make this believable.”

before he can change the position of his hand, you’re already doing it for him, pushing his hand lower with yours, watching the way his face drops when you allow him to go lower than your hips, breath hitching in his throat.

“that’s better. you can hold me and kiss me on the cheek if you have to. not too much, it’s not the right time and place for it anyways.”

“noted.”

once you’ve arrived inside and given your coats away, you notice most people here are strangers to you, anxiety kicking in, internally wishing you’d consumed some alcohol before coming.

and your companion takes notice of this from the way you’re suddenly squeezing his hand, which you’re undoubtedly not doing on purpose.

“you okay?”

“sure, i’m fine.” you faintly smile back at him.

he’s honestly considering saying fuck it, ready to ask you to just get out of here with him and go anywhere else instead — that is until one of your friends comes up to you.

“am i imagining things—”

“we’re fake dating, josh.” you answer him, increasing the distance between you and mingyu as if to emphasize your point. “his idea, not mine.”

joshua appears all kinds of confused. “okay. um… just—why?”

mingyu presses his lips together. what he said about the girl bothering him was all true. could he handle it on his own? probably. is fake dating slightly unnecessary and a little dramatic of a solution? undoubtedly.

but he just wanted you as his plus-one so bad. he saw it as an opportunity he couldn’t miss out on.

what can he say? jeonghan is weirdly persuasive.

“there’s this classmate of mine who won’t get off my back about dating, so i figured she’d quit if i showed up with a girlfriend. girlfriend being her.”

in spite of the explanation, joshua still looks at the two of you with a frown. “right.”

“i’m gonna go get us a drink. be right back.” mingyu says, almost regretting doing so when he realizes he has to take his hand off your back.

you watch him walk off to the bar, suddenly hearing your best friend chuckle softly next to you. “can’t believe i never considered you two before.”

“what are you talking about?”

“you and him. you’d be a nice match.”

“what, me and mingyu? we’d be a disaster.”

“why?”

“we’re too different, josh. and don’t even try to give me that opposites attract crap.”

his soft facial features melt into a smile that gives off the impression he knows something you don’t. “i think you’d be surprised. that’s all.”

whatever the fuck that means.

your fake boyfriend returns not much later with a drink for the two of you. despite your clear disagreement with joshua’s words, you just can’t help but think about what he said, especially when mingyu’s arm remains looped around your waist for quite a while as the three of you discuss the whereabouts of your friends.

the worst thing is that you don’t even mind him touching you. you’ve always been picky when it comes to the people who are allowed to as much as stand close to you, and mingyu was not one of those people until you grabbed his wrist after he took you home from dinner, which was only last week.

and that’s not the only thing you’re becoming increasingly aware of.

mingyu’s popularity is a bigger thing than you thought. either that, or half the people here are from his faculty. which is highly unlikely.

being as observant as you are, you’ve noticed several girls as well as guys pointing your way, making you feel uneasy.

so your hold on him tightens as you stare back at them, as if to silently tell them to fuck off and focus on someone other than your fake boyfriend.

you’re not actually jealous. no, that’d be ridiculous. you can’t be jealous of others wanting something you don’t even have in the first place.

chan and seokmin arrive half an hour later, having pretty much the same reaction to the situation as shua. but they play along.

though not without noticing how comfortable the two of you are together.

after several hours of drinking, dancing and socializing, you feel in need of a break. “hey, i’m just gonna get some fresh air outside, okay?”

mingyu’s lashes flutter as he nods. “would you mind if i came with?”

you gesture that you’re okay with it, so he takes your hand to guide you through the mass of people without losing you, the littlest of touches sparking an indescribable feeling in your stomach.

the air feels much colder now that you’ve been inside the warm hotel for several hours. you sigh, leaning back against the brick wall behind you, the surface feeling slightly uncomfortable on your one uncovered shoulderblade.

mingyu takes fake dating very seriously, as it seems. he’s practically been unable to keep his hands off you, and you’re going to indulge in it for however long it lasts.

as you’re standing outside together, you notice he’s loosened up more around you, not hesitant to get close either. he’s certainly not afraid to put his hand on your thigh, and you make zero effort to push him away.

his lips ghost by the skin of your neck, alcohol clouding his thoughts. “it’s nice to have you here. i wasn’t all that excited about going at first.”

“yeah, yeah. i made your night ten times better.”

he snickers. “you hear that often?”

“every now and then. don’t sound so surprised.”

“it doesn’t surprise me. i was just hoping i was special compared to the others.”

“doesn’t everyone?”

“you’re a little cryptic, anyone ever told you that?”

“maybe.” you respond, chuckling, allowing his lips to touch your bare skin.

mingyu bites his lower lip, not afraid to look you in the eye to match your playful gaze with a similar one. “do you not remember a single thing from the night of soonyoung’s party?”

he almost smacks himself for asking the question, seeing your expression falter a little. “no. neither do you, as you’ve told me.”

“no, i don’t,” he says firmly, mentally trying to slap himself for consuming so much alcohol that it makes him say things he usually wouldn’t, “but i kinda wish i did.”

“why?”

when he remains quiet, still trying to figure out the best way to respond, you gently take a hold of his chin to lift it up, making sure he keeps his eyes on yours. playing with him is fun.

“i...” he tries to utter the words, but god, he might as well be hypnotized.

before he can give his answer, seokmin loudly stumbles out of the building, catching your attention. he’s clearly had a bit too much to drink, his boisterous laughter echoing through the courtyard. seungcheol follows closely behind, a hand on his shoulder.

whatever moment you and mingyu were having is gone in an instant. cheol spots you, keeping his friend somewhat upright in the process.

“i’m gonna go take him home, couldn’t find the other guys. i think soonyoung might be next, though.” he says, doing his best to keep seokmin upright in the process.

so mingyu nods. “okay. i’ll go check.”

they say their goodbyes, after which he proceeds to looks at you again. you let your head rest against the wall again. “you go ahead. i’ll meet you back inside in a few.”

he silently agrees, returning to the people inside. you appreciate the silence, mentally drowning out the sound of people talking and cars driving into the background.

it’s then that some girl you’ve never seen before walks up to you. “hey. you’re mingyu’s new girlfriend, right?”

the crease between your brows becomes apparent. “have we met?”

“no, no. i’m in the same faculty as him. i was just curious. didn’t know he was dating anyone.”

she’s clearly had a bit to drink, though not enough for her speech to be incoherent. you’re not sure what to give her other than an awkward smile that looks anything but genuine.

but either she’s too far gone to catch the hint or she simply doesn’t want to. “was kinda surprised to see him end up with a girl like you.”

and since she’s probably not gonna remember this conversation tomorrow, you decide to engage in it for once. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“i don’t know, ‘s just... you seem a little distant. just different. he’s never really gone for someone like you. no offense or anything.”

you keep your composure despite a certain emotion brewing hot inside you, whatever the hell it may be. the sheer audacity of some people to stick their nose in business that’s not their own. “gee. hard to fathom i landed a guy like that, huh?”

the sarcasm dripping from your tongue finally seems to get it through to her that her opinion is anything but wanted, so she mumbles something about going back inside, after which you lean back against the wall, closing your eyes for a moment.

worst thing is that she’s probably right.

you and mingyu just don’t work.

and you don’t even have feelings for the guy, so why does it bother you?

the whole thing upsets you enough for you to go back inside, rushing to find him to tell him that you don’t feel like staying.

when you return to him, he’s so used to his role that his hand finds your waist and his lips touch your cheek, but you smoothly back away this time. “i’m gonna go back to my dorm. you guys have fun.”

even over the noisy music and chatter in the background, he notices the change in your tone and behavior, which gives him the hint that something has upset you. “why? is everything okay?”

“i’m fine.”

“i’ll take you back.”

“i’d appreciate it if you didn’t.” you tell him, sounding harsher than intended. again. god, you keep messing up. you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose for a moment. “i’m sorry.”

mingyu is still processing your words as you’re leaving him behind.

then when you’re walking towards the exit, a girl accidentally bumps into you, spilling her drink over your dress.

goddamn. you wonder what the fuck you did to the universe for it to give you a night as shitty as this.

she begins to profusely apologize, very obviously sincere, but you just curtly tell her it’s fine, annoyance rising.

mingyu notices the situation from afar, deciding to go after you when he sees you walk to the bathroom instead of the exit.

the bathroom is awfully fancy, but it seems only fair for a hotel like this. clenching your jaw, you grumble while getting some paper towels, hiking the dress just a bit upwards.

god, you’re never agreeing to do that fake dating shit ever again. what a joke.

you huff as you keep trying to get the now barely visible stain out of your dress. you’re rubbing over the fabric on your thigh when someone walks in.

of course it’s him.

“any luck getting it out?” he asks, and you clench your jaw, throwing the wet paper towels into the trashcan beside the sink. your hands hold onto the cold surface, knuckles growing white as you focus on them instead of him.

“why am i here?”

“what do you mean?”

you turn your gaze to him, abandoning your quest of getting the stain out of your dress, annoyed that he’s acting like he doesn’t know what you’re talking about. “why did you invite me here? out of everyone you could’ve gone with, why did you wanna go with me?”

“are you angry at me?”

“answer the question.”

“i just…” he trails off, trying to think of the right words. “i just figured it was a way to become friends.”

you’re actually going to lose your shit if he as much as utters the word ‘friend’ to you one more time. “oh, jesus. cut the bullshit. why do you wanna be friends with me so badly?”

“i don’t know, because… because it occurred to me — y’know, after the party, after what we did — that we have little to no relationship and i wanted to change that.”

“oh, right. you just had to sleep with me before thinking of that.”

“no, i didn’t. i just haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that night, and i—”

what the hell is he even supposed to say? he’s not even sure what exactly it is he wants from you. sure, he wants to be friends — but god, he spends so much time wishing he remembered what it was like to touch you that night, what you looked like underneath your pretty little dress, what you sounded like.

you’re quiet for a second before your whole demeanor changes, agitation shifting to intrigue. “so that’s what this is about.”

“well—what?”

“if you wanted to fuck, you should’ve just said that. instead of dragging me to this shit.”

“i—” he suddenly feels suffocated by the small size of the room and your body getting closer to his, backing him up against the door. “that’s not why i—”

“does it matter?” you ask, and he tries to hide his ragged breathing now that you’ve pressed your front against him, clenching his jaw.

it doesn’t help that you’re watching him like a hawk.

“not to repeat myself all the time, but i—i normally don’t do this with friends. i don’t want you to have the wrong idea of me.” he exclaims, cursing himself for looking down at the way your red dress is accentuating your curves so well.

so you begin to unbutton his shirt, and he breathes heavily because of it. “well, i guess you’re in luck. ‘cause we’re not friends.”

he’s about to tell you that he genuinely wants to be when you finally kiss him. it’s fast and intense and hungry.

whatever he expected, it wasn’t this — but he can’t find it in him to not give in.

his hand moves to the back of your head, pulling you closer, then proceeding to help you with unbuttoning his shirt, all without breaking the kiss.

mingyu shivers when your cold hands finally touch his bare chest, the faintest hint of your sharp nails nearly making him beg for you to dig them into his skin until he bleeds.

there’s a shift in control when his feet no longer feel locked in with the tiled floor, his hands trailing up your legs, fingers gripping the skin of your thighs. he lifts you up, allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist, only to have him pushing you up against the door, pressing his body against yours.

you’re rubbing your front against him, taking notice of the hard bulge in his pants, nearly crying out from his sheer size.

holy shit. no wonder you were sore after you slept with him — he’s fucking huge.

“gyu,” you break the kiss, “can i suck you off?”

the way you breathily call him by his nickname for the first time is nearly enough for him to bust in his pants. “wanna taste you instead. please?”

with your back resting against the surface behind you, you watch him as he sinks to his knees, kissing the inside of your legs, goosebumps erupting on your skin.

“are you sure?”

“yeah. please let me.”

“okay. just make it quick.”

in hindsight, maybe that wasn’t the best thing to say.

because he’s diving in faster than you can comprehend, lace panties pulled down in less than a second, making you gasp in surprise. your fingers grab onto a few strands of his hair, accidentally tugging on them, only to have him moaning in response, which is most likely the best thing you’ve ever heard.

your teeth sink into your lower lip as a way to suppress your moans, only deeps hums and groans escaping you, much to mingyu’s annoyance, because he wants to hear you.

his fingers slide into your dripping wetness, your muscles tightening up from the sudden intrusion. he looks up at you while kissing the inside of your leg, a sight that’s so fucking hot that you have to tell yourself not to get lost in it.

another surge of adrenaline rushes through you when he spreads your legs even wider, causing you to let out a broken moan, much to his satisfaction.

“you can pull on my hair. i like that.” he breathes out with a genuine smile and lust-blown eyes, refusing to wait for your reaction and getting right back to what he was doing.

it doesn’t take him long before he’s got you squirming above him. tugging his hair really does get him going, but you’re nearly at your limit, feeling the familiar feeling building up in your lower belly.

“gyu—fuck, ‘s too much, too much—” you try to push his wrist away and make him look up at you again.

you swear you might lose it when you see he’s actually pouting over the fact that you’re pulling him away from something he clearly enjoys doing.

“but, baby, i wanna make you cum.”

the pet name turns you on even more. “you can. i just want you inside of me, right now.”

he’s rising to his feet, towering over you with his tall frame as you push him back against the door, kissing his jaw, neck and collarbone while undoing the buttons of his white shirt.

mingyu is surprisingly vocal, which you thoroughly enjoy. his lips find yours again, relishing in the remaining taste of you on his tongue.

“god—want me to fuck you?”

pulling your dress over your head, you’re left in your matching set of lingerie that you just so conveniently put on tonight. “are you seriously asking me that right now?”

“fine. bend over the sink, then.”

the difference in his tone and words makes you shiver with excitement. once you do as he says, a new shot of adrenaline courses through your body — because you completely forgot about the mirror that’s now right in front of you.

so you’re able to watch him push his pants down, positioning himself behind you. his big hands are warm on your skin, the silver ring on his finger making you shiver.

his shirt is half unbuttoned, his hair a mess, trousers down to his ankles — but none of that matters now that he’s got you bent over in front of him, fingers trembling in excitement as he takes the condom from his pocket to slip it on.

all he can do is hiss and groan when he feels your heat wrap around him so nicely as he pushes into you. “you’re so tight, jesus—”

you huff. “not my fault you’re so big.”

it makes him laugh and simultaneously turns him on. “you’re all bite, even when i’m trying to fuck you.”

“don’t act like you don’t like it.”

he then finally bottoms out, both of you moaning, and he chuckles. “never said i didn’t.”

god, he’s so fucking attractive. he bites his lower lip as he throws his head back, his strokes slow but hard.

his girth feels so good inside you — and his touches are electric on your skin. his hands go from your ass to your hips, your stomach, everywhere.

and he’s certainly not afraid to get loud. especially when he feels you’re pushing your hips back against his. he’s convinced this is what heaven feels like.

“gyu, a little harder, please.” you plead, slightly beginning to struggle with holding yourself up by the edge of the sink.

“how hard d’you want it?”

“as hard as you want. i can take it.”

he gestures for you to turn over, lifting you up and pushing you up against the wall, burying himself inside you again before you can even comprehend it.

his fingers feel almost painful on your thighs with the way he’s digging into your skin. he’s sucking and biting right above your collarbone, leaving some pretty marks that will definitely be visible tomorrow.

you push his jaw upward so you can kiss him, and he sighs into it, tilting his head to get better access.

it’s like he’s trying to match his thrusts with your heartbeat at this point. pressure builds in your stomach when you whine his name. “oh my god—gyu—”

“i love it when you call me that,” he breathes out, so into it that he’s confessing everything on his mind, “you don’t know how much i’ve thought about this — been fantasizing about this for ages.”

you hold onto his shoulder blades, nails digging into them. “then you better make it worth my while.”

“such a brat.” he teases, a moan slipping out right after when you use your legs wrapped around his waist to push him deeper into you.

mingyu’s stamina is admirable — but he’s a simple man. you’re so hot and you just feel so good around him, and he knows he’s getting close to his release already.

you notice his pace becoming slightly uneven, his breaths erratic, a layer of cold sweat forming on his back.

he’s doing his best to hold out for you, to make you hit your peak first, but you actually need to see him come undone first.

“are you gonna cum, gyu?”

you have to refrain from biting your lip when he’s stuttering out a response. “n—no, not yet—”

“i want you to.”

“jesus, don’t say that—”

oh, he’s cute. he’s responding so well to your words, so you indulge in it a little bit more.

“wanna fuck me again later? without a condom? you can cum inside me. i’ll let you do anything you want.” you tease — your words being the complete truth, because if he’d want to fuck you again, you’d sure as shit let him.

his brows scrunch upwards while he lets out another whine. “anything?”

“mhm,” you nod, “anything.”

his fantasies about you, the way you’re looking at him, the things you’re saying, the way you suddenly clench around him — it’s all too much. his release spills into the condom, his muscles flexing from the sudden rush of adrenaline shooting through him.

it’s enough to make your legs tremble, and you reach the climax you’ve been aching for.

he’s still coming down from his high, face buried in the crook of your neck when he hears you chuckle. “so much for being friends, huh?”

he then smiles as well. “are we close enough for you to consider me as your friend now?”

“you’re quite literally inside me.”

“knowing you, that doesn’t really have to change anything.”

“oh, is that so?” you retort at his cheekiness. “sure. you’ve made it to friend level 1. congrats.”

“great. level 2 is next, then.”

“god, forget i said anything.”

“no going back now. you’re stuck with me.”

something’s very clearly changed between you since that night. mingyu has, in a certain way, changed your relationship.

because you’ve successfully upgraded from strangers to fuck buddies.

and truth be told, he wants to rip his fucking hair out.

the sex is great. there’s something thrilling and exciting about your secret relationship, both of you skipping lectures and sneaking away after classes with no one around you having a single clue.

and yet he’s come to the conclusion that this isn’t what he wants.

he wants you. all of you, completely. but every time he tries to get even remotely close to you, you somehow manage to dodge it and change the topic.

it bothers him. but he’s scared to just put all his feelings on a platter — because he doesn’t want to lose whatever he has with you.

something he’s also discovered is how utterly weak he is for even the slightest bit of your attention, the smallest of touches.

so when he’s typing away at his laptop in the study hall, noticing the screen of his phone light up as a message from you comes in, he can’t bring himself to ignore it.

20:23: you look cute when you’re focused

the message makes him frown, and he looks around, trying to figure out where you are, since you’ve clearly got your eyes on him.

so he texts back.

20:24: i always look cute ;)

tapping his fingers on the table, he waits for your response. the three buttons that indicate you’re typing suddenly go away, and he pouts, only to then be greeted by your voice close to his ear. “bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think?”

“fuckin’—” it almost makes him jump and screech out of shock. “christ, don’t sneak up on me like that.”

you chuckle at his high-pitched reaction. “bad conscience?”

“no. you’re just scary.”

“thank you.” you grin with pride, moving to sit on the table, right beside his laptop. “you busy?”

“just going over some older lecture notes to prep for an exam.”

“wanna come over to my dorm?”

“fourth time this week. what’s gotten into you? well, aside from me, obviously.”

“hilarious. really.” you remark, watching him laugh at his own joke, unable to help the smile rising to your cheeks. “what can i say? it’s a great stress reliever.”

“i know. give me a sec and i’ll pack my things.”

as he closes up his laptop and textbooks, you look around the other tables — which are mostly empty, except for the one by the window, which is where you notice a girl shooting you a bit of a weird look once you make eye contact with her.

“mingyu.”

“hm?”

“the chick by the window with the shitty earrings. you know her?”

he subtly looks into the direction of said window, recognizing the girl from his advanced statistics class. “yeah, i have a class with her. can’t really remember her name though. why?”

“she likes you.”

“oh.” he just shrugs, continuing to zip up his bag, standing up from his seat. “i didn’t notice.”

“sure.” you chuckle sarcastically.

that makes him raise a brow. he feigns shock, causing you to look at him.

“what?”

“you’re jealous.”

“excuse me?” you monotonously ask, brows furrowing in disdain.

“it’s actually kinda hot.”

“oh, please. i have nothing to be jealous of.”

“and yet you are.”

“either you shut your ass up or i’ll find someone else to relieve my stress, kim.”

he laughs and you roll your eyes. then he slings his bag over his shoulder, his hands in his pockets as he follows you out of the study hall.

as soon as you’ve entered your dorm room, he’s got you pressed against the wall, nipping at your skin. he makes you feel sickeningly good, putting your former boyfriends to shame — you’re certainly not complaining.

once he’s done with you and you’re completely worn out, you lay with your head on his chest, his fingers softly stroking your naked back.

you seem more on edge than usual today. less playful. tired, even. his voice sounds hesitant when he speaks up. “is everything okay? you look stressed.”

“i’m fine.”

he figures you either don’t want to open up or you simply don’t feel comfortable doing so with him, so he chooses not to pry, opting to let you know he’s there for you. “okay. well, if you need anything, someone to talk to, you can always come to me.”

you frown a little. refusing to act impulsively, you swallow your words, not saying a thing.

mingyu takes your silence as his cue to leave you be. a feeling of unease creeps into his body, and the room suddenly feels smaller than before.

so he gently moves away from you, sitting up to put his clothes back on. “i should probably go. wonwoo will be pissed off if i don’t have the kitchen cleaned up once he gets back.”

he’s buttoning his jeans when you speak up behind him, admitting your reasons for feeling more stressed than usual. “i’ve got two exams next week. they’re extremely important, i have to pass them, i just… i can’t focus for some reason.”

when he turns around, you’re not facing him. he leans against the tabletop, looking at you. “anything in particular that’s bothering you?”

“i don’t know. it’s just…” you shrug your shoulders a little, unsure of how to explain it, “i guess i haven’t been feeling great in my own skin lately, even though i don’t actually have a reason for it.”

“maybe i can help you study. could work as a nice motivator.”

“gyu—” you chuckle a little to reject him politely, but he sees it coming at this point, persisting.

“why don’t we just try it? if you don’t feel like doing it again, then, fine. we can always just restrict our activities to solely physical stuff again.”

“do you even have the time to help me?”

he’s smiling, able to tell you’re thinking about it. “are you kidding? i can do anything.”

“always so humble.”

“yeah, that’s why you like me so much.” he laughs. “that’s why i’m your friend.”

“whatever makes you sleep at night.”

mingyu wasn’t kidding when he said he wanted to help you, nor when he mentioned he wanted you two to be closer.

he’s putting in effort to make you like him, that’s for sure. buying you coffees and snacks, offering to study with you whenever you mention difficult topics you have to cram for exams — he’s certainly establishing his presence in your daily life.

and you hate how easily you get used to it.

for whatever reason, you haven’t had sex since that day either. you’re pretty sure he wants to prove that he likes you for you and not just your body.

which is sweet. but you also have needs, and they’re worse now, knowing he can fulfill them extremely well, as he’s proved many times at this point.

so you text him to ask if he wants to come over later.

as he’s seated at a picnic table on the campus square, he notices your text, grabbing his phone to respond to you.

“your girlfriend texting you again?”

mingyu looks up at joshua, who’s sitting across from him with a pen in hand. he shakes his head. “not my girlfriend.”

“she might as well be.”

“she doesn’t like me enough to be.”

shua wouldn’t call himself nosy, but he’s determined to get a better idea of what exactly is going on between you. “what’s up with you and her?”

“it’s complicated.” his friend responds, eyes narrowing from the rays of sunlight. “i’m not even sure, honestly.”

joshua has this ability to pry people’s hearts open and let their feelings pour out without breaking a sweat — how easily he does it should be studied.

“are you friends with benefits or something? situationship?”

ironically, those words are the complete opposite of what you and him are. mingyu huffs out of frustration, voicing his thoughts. “she doesn’t like it when i call her my friend, she appears to have an exceedingly low daily quota of emotions, i’m busting my ass off to get my own assignments done and spend as much time with her as i can and i’m pretty sure she doesn’t even like me. at all. worst part being that i like her, shua. i like her.”

“have you told her you like her?”

“sort of. in a friendly way. she just glared at me.”

joshua finds mingyu’s inner torment a little amusing, but he feels for him. “maybe she’ll warm up to you. give it a while, she’s a tough nut to crack.”

“is she open with you?”

“sort of. i don’t think there’s a single soul out there she’s completely open with.” he sucks on the inside of his cheek for a second. “she has mentioned in the past that she’s actually very sensitive but just doesn’t, like, really express it. and you gotta keep in mind that people show love and affection differently. give it time.”

mingyu takes a breath as he thinks over the words.

give it time.

which he does. he notices you’re gradually getting closer to him over the course of time, still not showing too much — but it feels different. you choose to sit with him more often than not when you meet up with the other guys, you’re spending a lot of time with him, and you’re showing initiative to make time for him. every time he lands in your bed, it feels more intimate than ever.

you’re starting to make him feel like he matters to you. his crush on you is getting out of hand to the point he needs to stop himself from gazing at you every time you look him in the eye.

just like right now. you’re smiling at him over something he can’t remember — it’s a genuine smile, he cherishes those every time you flash him one as they’re rare — and you just look so pretty.

a text message from one of the guys on the football team pulls him out of it. which sparks an idea in him.

“hey, i have a football game coming up this saturday. do you wanna come? you could finally see me in action.” he asks. when he notices the puzzled look on your face, he tilts his head. “oh, come on. friendship works both ways, you know that, right? team effort and all that jazz.”

his wording makes you chuckle. “fine. i’ll be there.”

“you won’t regret it. our team is great.”

“really? then you better prove it. can’t be cheering for the losing team.”

with a raised brow, he points at you. “wanna bet?”

“what do you have in mind?”

he considers his options for a moment. “if my team wins, i get to choose what we do in bed next time. as long as you’re into it too, obviously. if the opposite team wins, you get to choose.”

now that’s an offer you’re certainly not gonna reject. taking on the challenge, you nod. “alright. deal.”

he shakes your hand ever so professionally, gathering his books since he needs to get to class. “oh, and, just so you know — my team’s won regional championships for the past two years in a row. i’m just saying.”

you tilt your head. he winks at you before walking away from the table, and you smile to yourself.

damn that asshole for making you like him this much.

saturday arrives, and you find yourself walking by the green football fields, surprised by the amount of people who showed up.

mingyu mentioned he was heading here earlier so you just told him you’d be there, sitting with the crowd.

it seems like it’s going to be a cold-weather match today. it’s already dark out, and the rain just started coming down from the sky. you’re glad the bleachers come with shade canopies so at least you won’t be soaked by the time the game is over.

your eyes are fixed on mingyu’s back as he stands by the sidelines with the rest of his team, enthusiastically discussing what’s most likely gonna be their strategy for the game.

then he turns around, still very engaged in the conversation, the wet strands of his hair framing his facial features. gosh, he’s incredibly handsome.

before running out onto the field, he looks back at the bleachers, scanning the masses before his eyes lock with yours.

he ever so dramatically makes a little heart with his fingers, teasingly motioning it towards you, and you put your middle finger up, making him laugh.

mingyu’s a real sweetheart, you have to admit. he’s growing on you.

watching the game is more fun than you anticipated. despite not being into football all that much, it’s great to watch the boys work together as well as they do.

you’re certainly not complaining when mingyu throws his vest on the bench halfway through the match, leaving him in a black compression shirt, emphasizing his strong figure.

shit. maybe you should watch him play more often.

it’s his team that seems to be on the winning side tonight — until the opposing team scores ten minutes before the end. both teams have the same score now, which is bad. ending with a draw would suck.

you’re now completely sucked into the game like the rest of the audience, desperate for mingyu’s team to score another goal.

the universe must be on their side today, because they do. three minutes left on the clock and none other than jeon wonwoo himself is able to kick the ball into the net, escaping the hands of the keeper.

it’s all yells of happiness on the field.

the referee blows his whistle to call the end of the game. everyone at your side of the bleachers stands up from their seats, yourself included, to cheer and clap for the boys, happy that they won the game.

you watch them congratulate eachother, some of their friends walking onto the field to do the same.

following the masses, you also leave your seat in the bleachers, walking down the stairs.

mingyu notices you coming his way and runs over to you, surprising you by lifting you up, giving you arguably the best hug you’ve ever had in your whole damn life. he holds onto you so tightly, his big arms and tall frame caging you in — in the best way possible.

when he gently puts you back down, his one hand briefly finds your cheek, which catches you off guard, but you don’t shy away from it.

he’s so tempted to just say fuck it and kiss you right now. you look so pretty, and your eyes — your eyes. he could stare into them forever and love every second of it.

but there’s too much at stake to get impulsive. “thanks for coming.”

“you’re welcome.” you blankly respond, making him smile a little.

“how did i do? good enough for your standards?”

you shrug at him, taking a brief look at his teammates celebrating in the distance behind him. “i was mostly focused on wonwoo, actually, but you were doing a good job too.”

he rolls his eyes before making a sarcastic comment. “you’re hilarious.”

“something i’m very aware of.”

he fake smiles at you, and you reciprocate the gesture, patting him on the shoulder.

“wanna go catch a drink with me?”

“don’t you wanna celebrate with the rest of the team?”

“not tonight.” he shakes his head. “i just gotta go get my bag. come with me?”

he intertwines his fingers with yours and you hardly notice it. which is bizarre if you consider how you had no relationship with him to begin with several months ago. “okay, yeah.”

you head to the men’s locker room with him, which is dark and empty. all the other guys are still out on the field, as you noticed when you were walking over here.

“the lights haven’t been working since yesterday, so watch your step.” mingyu tells you. the rays of moonlight coming through the high windows are enough to at least light up the room enough for you to see where you’re going.

you suddenly get an idea. “do you think the guys are gonna be out there for long?”

“they usually do. ten minutes, give or take.” he answers absentmindedly while taking his black duffel bag out of the locker with his name on it.

once he turns around, you push him back against the locker, taking him by the surprise, your finger pulling at the elastic waistband of his pants and boxers.

“i give credit where it’s due, you know.”

oh. oh. he only then understands what you’re getting at.

you always manage to make him a little nervous somehow — he lives for it. “in public? here? we could go back to your—oh, shit—”

you make him stutter the moment your hand moves underneath his clothes to take a hold of his dick. “but you’re already hard, gyu.”

christ. you’ve got some nerve, putting up that soft and sweet voice as if you’re not fucking responsible for getting him hard in the first place.

he doesn’t protest when you sink to your knees in front of him, pulling his boxers down his thick thighs, his cock springing free.

you grin a little to yourself before taking him in your mouth. he’s so hot like this, all hard and panting and begging.

“h—holy shit, that feels good.” he gasps, the warm sensation of your mouth making him go dizzy.

his hand moves to the back of your head. you take him as much as you can, using your hands for the part you can’t take. he slowly becomes a mess, his head resting against the locker.

you look up at him when he’s shamelessly moaning at the feeling of your tongue swirling around him, his hands subconsciously pushing your head just a little bit forward, making you take just that little bit more of his cock.

arousal begins to pool between your legs, and you suddenly curse yourself for choosing to wear jeans instead of a skirt tonight.

“fuck, fuck, baby—”

you release him with a pop, a mix of spit and his arousal coating your lips. “wanna taste everything. can’t make a mess here.”

it’s such a shame he’s still wearing his clothes. his stomach caves in so nicely whenever you’re sucking him off — like he can’t catch his breath. it’s the best thing you’ve ever seen.

his legs are trembling, and he’s embarrasingly close to his release already. “you don’t—ah—have to do this here if you don’t want to—”

“‘m not leaving ‘til you cum down my throat, gyu. you can do that, though, right?”

he nods, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, his voice all soft and submissive. he can’t help it. “yeah, yeah, i’ll do whatever you want, baby.”

“good boy.” you tell him, entirely unaware of the effect it has on him.

the moment you hollow your cheeks, it’s over for him. the salty taste of his release sits in your mouth before you swallow it, and his chest heaves while he pulls himself together.

both your eyes widen when you suddenly hear the voices outside getting closer, and mingyu knows it’s time to get the fuck out of here. he quickly pulls his pants back up, his bag in his one hand and your hand in the other as he drags you with him to take the back exit before anyone can notice either of you.

you both take a breather outside as you lean against the wall of the building before you burst into laughter together. he feels on top of fucking cloud nine, if he’s being truthful.

“you’re insane.” he laughs, looking to the side to find you laughing and blushing at the same time. “you’re blushing? after doing that? wow. who are you and what have you done with my friend?”

“you’re getting special treatment, you know. i don’t suck off my other friends.” you tease, shrugging your shoulders.

maybe he should consider pursuing a theatre career with the way he dramatically puts his hand over his heart. “does this mean i made it to friend level 2?”

“you did. now you’ve been downgraded back to level 1, though. what’re you gonna do about it?”

he plays along with you. “well, shit. can’t have that. we can go get a burger with fries at that place near campus. my treat?”

“sounds good.” the words have left your mouth and that big smile is right on his face again. you playfully push his shoulder, cheeks hurting from the smile on yours.

he’s getting closer to you than you anticipated, and that’s not a good thing, but for now, you tell yourself it’ll be fine. how much closer could he possibly get?

another month passes by when, for the first time in a while, mingyu doesn’t drop by your dorm. he doesn’t text, doesn’t call — and you find yourself worried about him.

it’s been nothing but complete radio silence from his end, which isn’t a good sign.

you’ve already left him several voicemails when chan lets you know he’s been having a terrible fever for the past two days. it leaves you with the urge to go and check up on him, so once you’ve had all your classes for the day, you find yourself knocking on his door.

it takes a moment for him to answer it, wonwoo seemingly not present in the dorm.

when mingyu opens the door, surprise is painted across his face, the heavy bags under his eyes making him seem awfully tired. shit, you hope you didn’t wake him. he’s wearing a plain white shirt with thin black pyjama pants, his hair an utter mess.

the surprise on his face is gone once you open your mouth. “you look like shit.”

he snorts at your words. “would you say that to me if i were on my deathbed, too?”

“absolutely.”

he smiles at your attitude, finding it strangely refreshing. “wanna come in? i promise i’ll stay at a distance so you won’t get it.”

you didn’t think he was going to invite you in, but you accept the offer nonetheless. “i was wondering why you didn’t call. then chan told me you were sick.”

he shuts the door behind you. “yeah, i’ve been sleeping, mostly. watched some netflix too but it quickly gives headaches. i’m sorry for not letting you know — didn’t think you were worried.”

you pause for a moment. “well. you thought wrong. friends worry, don’t they?”

the words make him smile. he didn’t think you cared all that much about him for some reason — this changes that. “fair. what’s in the bowl?”

he’s referring to the black bowl covered in foil you have clutched between your arms. you shrug. “soup. i don’t know if you already had some, but it worked wonders for me when i was sick a while back, so… yeah. i figured you could use it.”

his face lights up when he realizes you went out your way to make this for him. with gratitude, he accepts the bowl. “thank you, i appreciate it. looks really good. you can sit by my desk if you want to, by the way.”

as he’s walking across the room, you notice the mishap in his steps, like he’s about to lose his balance. “are you okay?”

“yeah, ‘s just—i’m a little dizzy.”

your hands find his shoulders — a touch that feels heavy compared to the usual skin-to-skin contact you share with him — to put him down on his bed. “don’t force it. if you’re about to faint, you might as well be lying down.”

his lids hang low, eyes nearly closed when you pull the covers over his body. you touch his cheeks and forehead with the back of your hand to get an indication of his temperature.

as soon as you’re about to tell him he probably has a light fever, it seems he’s already half asleep. you pull the covers up to his chest to ensure he’s comfortable.

you gaze at him for a moment as he snores softly, biting your lip as you curse yourself for giving him a treatment he doesn’t deserve.

maybe mingyu likes to think he doesn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, but that’s far from the truth. even you have noticed he’s been looking at you a certain way recently, and that’s saying something.

one look at him and you’re already feeling like a big softie. it’s ridiculous.

you’re scared of what you feel for him, but as long as you can keep your relationship like this, it’ll be fine.

now that he’s asleep, you wander around his room. you know wonwoo must be at football practice, since mingyu is normally there with him at this time of the week.

you usually take him to your dorm, so you’re not in his all that often. your eyes rake across the framed pictures of his friends, family, loved ones, memories he’s made.

they stop, though, when recognizing yourself in one of the pictures. he promised you he’d frame one up as a way of ‘solidifying your friendship’ as he so politely put it.

still, you didn’t think he’d actually do it.

smiling to yourself, you proceed to notice his laptop screen is still on. he must’ve been working on something when you knocked on his door.

out of curiosity, you check the screen, figuring he was working on the essay he’s been postponing for two weeks because he had difficulty getting started.

you take a look at the assignment and decide you’re gonna try to do it for him. luckily, the necessary paragraphs that ought to be studied beforehand and referenced in the essay itself came with the mail, so that makes everything a lot easier.

when mingyu wakes up hours later, he finds himself alone in his room. you’re gone, though he notices the glass of water on his nightstand has been refilled, his laptop is flipped open, and there’s a sticky note attached to it.

slowly, he rubs his eyes and moves toward the desk to grab the laptop before sitting back against the pillows.

you must’ve written something on the note, he figures.

‘hopefully the essay is up to the standards of your class. i did it in a separate document so you can just get rid of the whole thing if it’s not what you want it to be. let me know if you need anything else. x’

he frowns, turning the device on to see what you worked on — and the screen lights up, only for him to realize you wrote the essay due for tomorrow. and with a few of his own additions here and there, it’s good enough to submit, which is impressive for someone who’s not actually taking the class.

and right now, all he can do is smile at his screen like an idiot.

you’re at the university skating rink when you hear someone calling your name from the bleachers.

looking up with a frown, you suddenly notice a tall man sprinting your way, so you skate towards him. “mingyu, what the hell are you doing here?”

“i got 87/100 for the essay. for the one class i always hate. you’re a genius.” he exclaims, absolutely beaming at you.

you suddenly remember doing the essay for him, snorting at his reaction. “so i’ve heard. good to see you’re doing better.”

“is there anything i can do in return?”

“don’t worry. i like writing essays. besides, you already helped me out plenty of times. it was the least i could do.”

the words coming out of your mouth hardly match your facial expression, but he finds he’s gotten used to it now. he understands you better than ever before. “you know how you said i’d get nothing out of a friendship with you?” he recalls, biting his lip for a moment, “you were wrong.”

a mere chuckle escapes you. “right. you get top-notch essays and bowls of chicken soup.”

your comment was sarcastic, but he remains serious. “you’re wonderful, you know that?”

it’s not often people use a word like that to describe you. it feels weird hearing it, but your attitude remains the same. “am i?”

“yeah, you are,” he nods, pushing out more compliments, “and i’m glad to have you in my life.”

the playful expression on your face falters — like a glitch occurring in your system. mingyu is starting to break through your hard exterior remarkably easily, and that’s beginning to scare you a little.

he leaves without saying another word, but the look on his face is enough to tell that he’s feeling the tension too. whatever relationship you have is becoming more intimate by day, most definitely passing the friendship it was supposed to be, and to you, that is very alarming.

and you suddenly refuse to let it go any further.

whenever he texts you, you either tell him you don’t have the time to come over or nothing at all. you avoid him like the plague, ensure not to go to social gatherings if he’s going be there and stay well away from all the places you and him studied together. it hurts, because you do miss him, yet you manage to keep it up.

but you can only do so much. unfortunately, mingyu is smarter than you hoped.

after two weeks of you avoiding him, he decides he’s had enough.

when you’re almost about to leave the dorm for your lecture, you hear someone knocking on your door. you open it to find him standing there, and he walks right by you, not bothering to ask whether he can come in.

“why have you been avoiding me?”

“i gotta leave for my lecture, i don’t have time for this.”

“so make the time.” he says sternly, jaw clenched. “answer the question.”

“i haven’t been avoiding you.”

“sure. so it’s a coincidence you suddenly stopped talking to me?”

you huff in frustration and close the door, leaning with your back against it. “no, it isn’t.”

he raises his hands in defeat. “so, why?”

“it’s been fun. i don’t know. but you’ve proved what you wanted to prove, so… good for you. we can both move on now.” you shrug, hardly sounding convinced of your own words.

“you’re lying.” he breathes out, scoffing to himself. he’s baffled that you think he’d consider it believable at all. “four months ago, i would’ve bought that. but not now.”

“believe what you wanna believe. i don’t really care.” you give him the cold shoulder, attempting to open the door so you can leave, but he immediately shuts it to stop you from doing so.

“don’t bullshit me. you care. i don’t know why the fuck you’re so hellbent on not admitting that, but it’s the truth.”

he’s beginning to get on your nerves. “what fucking answers are you even here for? since you claim to know everything that’s going on inside my head already.”

it’s then that he starts to show how genuinely upset he is at you pushing him away. “what makes me so different from the other guys? joshua, seokmin, chan—all of them. why is it so easy for you to be close with them but not with me?”

“because you keep trying to get closer to me! from day one, you’ve been saying you wanna be friends with me like the rest of them, but your actions don’t line up with that.”

“so what? i like you and i’m pretty damn sure you like me too.” his voice is softer, face closer to yours, those brown eyes of his working their way straight to your heart. “what are you so afraid of?”

either you’re imagining things or he’s leaning in to kiss you. his lips are so close before you feel them on yours, a sensation you missed like nothing else.

your fingers touch the back of his neck. it’s hard not to get lost in the feeling of his mouth on yours, the smell of his cologne making it even harder.

kissing mingyu is the closest you’ll ever get to heaven, but right now, all it’s making you feel is guilt and shame.

so you pull yourself away from him, breaking the kiss, hands feeling heavy on his chest. “close the door on your way out.” you whisper, leaving him alone in your dorm.

he stands perplexed in his place for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose, processing what just happened.

“fuck.”

it’s been a week, and he hasn’t called nor texted you since that conversation. you assume that he’s decided to move on.

which is understandable. if you were him, you’d be done with it too.

it feels strange to be going about your day without him dropping by or talking to you. like he left a void you’re unable to fill. and it hurts — you miss him.

you’re having lunch with seokmin and minghao in the cafeteria when he’s suddenly standing in front of you by the table. “i just got a call from the gallery manager — we’ve got it to ourselves this friday evening!”

minghao smiles widely, the sweet sound of his excited laughter intriguing the rest of you. he turns his head to explain. “me and mingyu have been trying to rent the gallery so we could finally be able to put our work on display. apparently, it was just confirmed we managed to pull it off.”

hao is a passionate painter — mingyu a photographer. their love for art is one of the things that binds them together, and they’ve mentioned wanting to have their own exhibit for a few months now. despite the things that have happened, you’re happy for them.

“that’s great! we can come, right?” seokmin asks, already grabbing his phone to put it in his agenda.

“yeah, you guys better.” minghao answers, his gaze shifting to you. “you have to come too. you’re free, right?”

he’s aware of things between you and mingyu being tense right now — though he doesn’t know why — but he still thinks it’d be good for you and him to see each other.

your eyes meet mingyu’s for the first time since your last conversation a week ago, and hao follows your actions, looking at him as well.

mingyu subtly looks away, hoping his friend didn't catch him staring at you. before he can utter the words he wants to say, you tilt your head, already speaking up. “sure. i'll be there.”

he unintentionally gives you a puzzled look, and you pop a piece of gum in your mouth, looking at your wrist as if there’s a watch there.

there isn’t. “won’t you look at the time. i’ll see you guys later.”

they briefly say bye to you, very much used to the way you dismiss yourself, and mingyu watches the interaction as if it’s the first time witnessing it — as if he hasn’t known you to be like this for several months.

he watches you walk out of the cafeteria, confronted by his two friends staring at him. “what?”

“you’re deep in it.” minghao remarks. “when are you guys finally gonna admit that you wanna be together?”

“it’s not that easy.”

seokmin frowns, connecting the dots before gasping. “wait. you and her are a thing? since when? why didn’t anyone tell me this?”

the other two just deadpan a stare at him.

on friday night, you attend the art exhibit. you know he’s been working hard on the collection, and you certainly figured you were gonna be confronted with mingyu as well, but this is one gathering you couldn’t afford to miss. so you choose to try and forget the drama for one night.

you’re wearing a little black dress with lacy tights and sleek ankle boots, an outfit you feel nice in.

the gallery is buzzing with friends of the artists as well as people who frequent the place whenever a new exhibit is up. perhaps some pieces will be sold tonight.

as you’re passing some of mingyu’s framed photos, you hear his familiar voice behind you.

“i was surprised when you agreed to come.”

when you turn your head, he’s standing there with his hands in the pockets of his fitted black pants, the deep cut of his white blouse exposing just a bit more of his upper chest than usual, a silver chain sitting all pretty on his neck and collarbones.

personally, you find it’s relatively rare to find men with good taste in fashion, but he’s definitely got it. he looks good. really good.

biting your lip, you give him nothing but a cool response. “came to see if you were any good.”

“and? what’s your judgement?”

“haven’t made up my mind yet.” your tone turns into a more teasing one, seeing as he appears considerably less hostile than you. “does my judgement really matter that much, though?”

he nods so quickly, almost as if he were hypnotized by you. “more than you know.”

him showing you affection actually makes your heart shatter. he’s so genuine in it too — and you just don’t know what to do with all that love he so easily gives you.

people pass you left and right, completely unaware of the heavy feeling currently bubbling inside your chest. you’re crumbling under his gaze and he fucking feels it.

and this situation is precisely the one thing you were so afraid of. you know he knows how to poke into your heart, he knows when you’re lying to him, he knows when you’re upset or hurt — and the idea that there’s someone out there who can see all of that just by looking at you utterly terrifies you.

in moments like these, your expression doesn’t gradually change. it falls hard and quick, sometimes very visibly, just like right now. the blank stare is gone, your lips parting, eyes blinking erratically — it’s like you received a slap to the face.

“your photography is beautiful, mingyu. you’re talented, but you didn’t need me to tell you that.” your voice breaks in the middle of your sentence and you leave him behind, heading into the ladies’ room, hoping he won’t follow you.

you exhale when he doesn’t.

knowing it’s way too early to leave, you pull yourself together, and once you get out of the bathroom, you make it your mission to avoid him for the rest of the night. if that means talking to god knows how many new people, so be it.

minghao’s paintings are beautiful. you’re in awe of his talent as you walk past his artworks, admiring each of them.

as the evening nears its end, the artist himself comes up to you with that gentle smile he often wears. “so, what do you think? do i have potential?”

“are you kidding? you’ve got more than just potential. these are gorgeous. you should be proud of them.”

he thanks you, his hands sitting in the pockets of his trousers. “what’d you do to mingyu?”

you cross your arms over your chest. “why’re you assuming i did something?”

“because he’s been looking like a kicked puppy for the past few weeks. and i heard you and him suddenly stopped hanging out, so...”

taking a deep breath, you shake your head to yourself. “honestly, i’m not even sure what happened between us. it came out of nowhere.”

minghao keeps his eyes on you even when you look away. “he came out of nowhere and you started liking him.”

the comment makes your eyes widen, but you don’t bother hiding the truth from him. he might be the most trustworthy guy you know. “yeah. so i pushed him away.”

he’s aware of your fear of letting people in beyond a certain extent. “what did he do?”

you could cry, honestly. your face is blank — your voice trembles. “he said he was happy to have me in his life. god, i’m so fucking insecure.”

hao softly rubs over your shoulder blade for a second, a gesture you appreciate. he shrugs. “you’re not obligated to do something you don’t wanna do. but talking about it is better than leaving it unsaid. gyu’s a good guy. he’ll understand it, but only if you give him the chance to.”

with that sentiment, he leaves you be, and you rub your arms, staring at the painting that’s currently in front of you, only to realize it’s about two lovers.

there’s a thin line between laughing and crying. you feel like you’re somewhere in the middle right now.

“christ, i need a fucking drink.” you mutter to yourself, running a hand through your hair.

“mind if i join you?”

of course. why are you even surprised?

without looking him in the eye, you respond to his question with one of your own. “sure you want my company?”

“beats going drinking alone.” mingyu shrugs next to you.

you let out a sarcastic chuckle at that. “whatever you say.”

luckily for you, the nearest bar is around the block. the walk there is quiet. you’re not sure what to say to him, and you feel him subtly looking your way.

he holds the door open for you to go in first. the place is not all that crowded yet, only a few tables occupied, probably because it’s still relatively early in the evening.

since no one else is seated by the bar top, you choose to head to one of the high stools there, ordering two shots of vodka before even sitting down.

the bartender puts two shot glasses in front of you and pours the liquid in both until they’re completely filled. mingyu looks at you as he picks up the small glass, and you just lightly tilt your head as a toast.

his facial expression is as bitter as the alcohol burning in his throat. he hates the way you look at him — like you don’t give a fuck about him.

you look down at your glass. you still haven’t exchanged a single word since leaving the gallery. what the hell are you even supposed to say? you didn’t want to be here with him in the first place.

liar. the little voice in your head creeps in.

the silence feels as painful as trailing your nails down a chalkboard. surprisingly, it’s you who ends up speaking first.

“if you’re trying to make the situation more awkward, you’re succeeding.”

“i’m just trying to find the words. don’t know where to start.”

your voice is hostile and sharp as a blade. “then don’t.”

of course you’re aware you’re being mean. but it’s to serve a purpose. every time you show this side of you, people always leave. better sooner than later, right?

mingyu, instead of feeling insulted by your attitude, looks at you as if he’s deciphering a puzzle. “i will. because i care.”

that makes you remain quiet. you just scoff instead, not knowing what to say next. he shifts in his seat to be able to look at him better — you do the exact opposite, turning your face away from him.

“can i ask you something?”

you don’t actually respond, save for the blank stare you give him. which he takes as a yes.

“you not showing much… is it a front you put up or something you just do?”

an interesting question — one you actually have to think about. “the latter. having a resting bitch face doesn’t really help my case, i guess. but i also enjoy keeping people in the dark a bit. can’t have everyone showing everything.”

“why not?”

blinking at him for a moment, you gently smile at him. it’s not a genuine one. “do you wanna know why you feel at a disadvantage right now?”

“because your alcohol tolerance is better than mine?”

“because you can’t tell what i’m thinking.”

he then puts his chin up to look at you better. you tilt your head a little, as if you were following his gaze, and he feels like he’s on the right track here.

“maybe i kinda like that disadvantage.” he suggests, but you shake your head knowingly.

“no, you don’t.”

“how would you know?”

you suck at the inside of your cheek for a moment, taking a breath. “my mom once said to me that it bothered her she couldn’t tell what i was thinking.” you pout your lips as if you’re thinking about it. “i told her i liked that. being an open book is my worst nightmare.”

“why?”

“putting your thoughts and feelings on display make you vulnerable. being vulnerable makes you weak.”

“so you think it’s better to isolate your feelings completely — discuss them with no one? ever?”

“unless it’s necessary, yes. besides, feelings aren’t black and white. do you know how difficult it is to convey them through words, let alone getting the person at the other end of the line to actually understand them?”

mingyu looks—no, gazes at you. “how will you know if you don’t try?”

“how do you know i haven’t? you think you’re the first person who’s tried to get close to me like this?” you ask, tilting your head. “speaking of which, i’ve been having a real hard time trying to figure out what it is you want from me. i’m not buying the whole ‘i-just-wanna-be-friends’ façade. never did. i thought it was the sex, but i initiated it more often than you did.”

“it wasn’t for the sex.” he shrugs his shoulders. “i like you.”

“so you’ve mentioned. since when?”

“since… always.”

“we never even talked before soonyoung’s party.”

“no, but i liked you.”

“bullshit.” you fire back at him, scoffing sarcastically. “i’m hardly likeable — nothing i’m insecure about. just a plain fact.”

“and yet i like you a lot. must be shocking.” he jests, the vaguest hint of a rising smirk on his face. “do you like me?”

“i can’t stand you,” you reach out to push his chin upwards so he looks up at you, only realizing how physically comfortable you’ve become with him after doing so, “but at least you’ve got a pretty face to make up for it.”

it’s unbelievable, mingyu thinks to himself. the way you keep teasing him, keep being a little mean to him, and he just eats it all up.

every moment he spends with you has him wondering what on earth it is about you that draws him in so much.

but, fuck, he just can’t get enough.

another shot is poured into your glasses, which you take between your thumb and index finger, nodding at him so he’ll take his.

the liquid burns in his throat, making him feel hot, and you get awfully turned on when you notice the way he wipes off the drops that accidentally ran down his chin.

“i think i’ve got you all figured out.”

his bold statement and matching attitude has you raising your shoulders. “oh yeah? go on. try me, i’m curious.”

the words tumble from his lips as if they’re part of a monologue he’s been rehearsing for weeks. “you feel so much, express so little. i bet it must be hard to keep up with your own mind sometimes. i think you often feel judged and misunderstood because of your attitude, but you don’t mind that much, since you prefer a smaller circle anyways. you simply don’t like wearing your heart on your sleeve, but it’d be a big mistake to think you don’t have one — and honestly, i’d do anything to be close to it.”

it’s not often you’re speechless.

he describes you almost perfectly, and your body language subconsciously changes, confident and playful demeanor gone — the cold and distant side of your personality coming out again.

“good job,” you tell him softly, moving to grab a few bucks from your wallet to pay for the drinks, “i guess i should say congratulations. you know what makes me tick. that means we’re done here, right?”

he finally spots the shift in your behavior. “wait—”

“have a good night, gyu.”

you curse yourself for accidentally using the nickname as you walk out of the bar, putting your coat on, feeling raindrops on your hair and skin once you get outside.

as you’re trying to make yourself remember where the nearest metro stop is, you hear him utter your name behind you. “what did i do? was it something i said?”

letting impulsivity get to you for once, you scoff, muttering a response. “it was everything you said.”

“why?” he asks, the tension running thicker. “why won’t you just let me in, for once? just this time?”

you hate how desperate he sounds — you hate how much it’s tugging at your heartstrings.

“why do you even want me to?”

“‘cause i like you.”

“no, you don’t. you just like whatever chase this is, just a little fun to keep things interesting for you.”

“has it ever crossed your mind that maybe i like you for you?”

“i’ve given you no reason to like me.”

“what, you think that no one out there will like you unless you act differently?”

his words feel like a growing tear in your heart. your self-esteem is so ridiculously low that it makes you believe no one would love you if you were to be unapologetically yourself — and hearing someone say it out loud hurts.

mingyu watches as the emotion flashes through your eyes, one of the few glimpses of what you feel underneath that cold exterior.

“it’s not true,” he says before you attempt to answer, “because you… being around you makes me happy. when i’m not with you, i think of when i’ll see you next. you matter to me.”

you’re not sure what’s worse — the fact that you reciprocate his feelings or the words that are coming out of your mouth.

“you’d do best to try and get rid of that feeling.”

but he knows there’s more lingering behind your words. “tell me you don’t feel the same way.”

“what i feel means nothing.” you state, voice laced with hurt, though not from his words. “let it go.”

“why don’t you wanna try?”

“because it’d be a disaster. for both of us.”

“c’mon,” he pleads, gently touching your fingers, “please don’t push me away.”

“god—i have my reasons, mingyu.”

“then explain them to me!”

“i can’t give you what you want!” you cry out, needing him to understand you. “someone like you just doesn’t work with someone like me. it might sound stupid, but it’s the truth. i wouldn’t tell you i love you, i’m fucking—bitter and cynical, if not misanthropic, i like my own peace and quiet, i fucking hate talking about what i feel — and you are the complete opposite. i’d make you miserable. you’d grow to hate me.”

“no, i wouldn’t.”

“you would. you... i do like you. i don’t know what the hell you did, like—it’s bizarre how much i’ve grown to like you. but at the end of the day, we’d never work, because i cannot give you the love that you deserve. i know you. you want someone spontaneous, easygoing, sociable — those are all traits that i don’t have. i wish i did, but that’s just how i’m engineered. we wouldn’t work.”

“how do you even know that?”

“i’ve had two boyfriends before this. both broke things off with me ‘cause i didn't show love the way they were used to, and even when they called it quits, i didn’t show a thing. because i don’t do that. no matter how often i say it, no one ever appears to understand what they’re getting themselves into when they get close to me, so i’m telling you now. this? you and me?” you ask, finger pointing between the two of you. “we’d be idiots to try.”

“fine. then consider me an idiot.” he breathes out, just barely registering how close he’s standing to you. “i’m willing to try. please.”

the crease between your brows is the sign of your inner conflict. “i’m sick of getting hurt. sick of people making me feel like my feelings aren’t valid solely because i don’t like expressing them.”

“i’m not gonna hurt you. we can take things slow.”

“gyu—” you plead, almost like you’re begging him to stop tearing your walls down despite knowing he won’t.

and perhaps the other part of you does want to let him in. it’s so scary, so tempting.

“i don’t wanna lose you.”

he adores you so much — it’s ridiculous. “you won’t lose me. please…” he touches your fingers so gently, getting closer to you as you barely make an effort to push him away, “please let me in.”

his heartbeat rises when you look him in the eye — he wonders how the hell a person so strong can look so afraid. but he’s determined to show that you have no reason to be anymore.

it’s raining even harder now. instead of backing you up against the wall, he takes a few steps away from you as if he’s leaving, only for him to turn around and gesture for you to come with him.

mingyu’s smile shines even in the heavy downpour — a bright light that balances out your dull one.

he extends his hand, and you finally get over the edge of your fear, finally able to take control of your own body and slide your hand in his.

you and kim mingyu shouldn’t work — perhaps that’s exactly the reason why you do.

thank you for reading. let me know if you enjoyed it x

® SANAKIRAS — do not repost, remake or copy my work in any way whatsoever. translations are not allowed.

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dixons-sunshine · 2 months ago

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No-Nonsense | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

A/N: I am so sorry this sucks. I’m moving in a few days, Saturday to be exact, and I’ve been packing non-stop today. When I finally sat down, my brain was fried and I couldn’t really think of words lol. This was the best I could do. I hope it’s still somewhat okay!

The sound of a disbelieving scoff being let out had Daryl tensing up. His cerulean-coloured eyes trailed over to where you leaned back against the wall, his hard, steel-like gaze resting on your face. “Ya got somethin’ ya wanna say, Sunshine?”

“Yeah, I do.” Your own angered stare rested solely upon the crossbow-wielding archer, T-Dog, Rick and the kid, Miguel or something, not even being on your mind at that moment. “I want a gun.”

Daryl rolled his eyes at your statement. He didn’t even know why Rick had bothered asking you along. If shit hit the fan, you wouldn’t be able to protect yourself, and the archer didn’t feel like dying for some woman he didn’t even care for. Sure, you were a resident at Atlanta General before the world ended and had come along to check if Merle had potentially suffered from heatstroke, but other than that, you were useless. At least, to Daryl’s knowledge.

“Yeah, well ya ain’t gettin’ one. I ain’t ‘bout to have my head blown off ‘cause’a yer shit aim,” Daryl told you defiantly. Truth be told, he did not even know whether or not you could use a gun, but if your hesitance towards even looking at Dale’s shotgun back at the camp was anything to go by, it was best not to trust you with a weapon that could potentially lead to his demise.

Cleverly sensing that the situation would escalate without an intervention, the self-appointed leader stepped forward and between your’s and Daryl’s line of sight. “No need to get at each other’s throats.” Rick sighed, rubbing his eyes in exhaustion. The last thing he wanted was for blood to be spilled over something as meaningless as an argument. The main concern was getting Glenn back. Rick turned towards you, an understanding glint in his eyes. “Shane told me you didn’t know how to handle a gun. I’m guessin’ he’s got it wrong.”

“Shane doesn’t know shit,” you spat bitterly, pushing yourself off the wall. “I know how to use a gun. I just don’t like it.”

“Yeah, well s’the way’a life now, Sweetheart. Better get to likin’ it real quick,” Daryl interjected before Rick could respond. He picked up his crossbow and slung it across his shoulder. “‘Sides, how do we know ya ain’t jus’ lyin’ to us?”

“You don’t,” you began, your jaw clenching as you tried to suppress your anger. “I could be lying to you, or I could be telling the truth. Either way, I’m not walking into that place with nothing but my good looks. So we can continue to argue about this all day, or you can stop being an asshole, shut up, trust me, and give me a goddamn gun, or else you can tend to your brother’s wounds on your own if we find him. Your choice.”

If there was one thing Daryl had to give you points for, it was your no-nonsense attitude. Most of the women at the camp seemed to fear him, but you didn’t. Time and time again, you stood up to both Shane and Merle. You refused to be belittled, and he respected you for that. You could stand your ground, regardless of the person you faced.

Swallowing his pride, because he sensed that he could potentially have been in the wrong, Daryl reached forward and grabbed a handgun from the table. He offered it to you, and when you wrapped your hand around the handle, his hand lingered on the weapon for a few moments. “Jus’ so ya know, I ain’t gon’ carry ya when ya shoot yerself in the foot.”

Against your better judgement, you sent him a small smile. “And I’m not gonna carry you when that guy shoots you in the ass for shooting him in his.”

Daryl let out a small huff of laughter. Under normal circumstances, the archer would have still been pissed. However, for some reason, seeing your smile made his anger fade away and be replaced with another feeling, one that unnerved him beyond belief. However, he pushed that odd, fluttery feeling to the depths of his mind. There were far more pressing matters at hand.

Before he could speak up, Rick’s voice flooded the air, making you and Daryl practically jump apart. “Now that that’s settled, let’s get goin’.” For added emphasis, he cocked his gun, motioning towards the kid. “Let’s get Glenn back.”

You spared one last look at the brooding archer. He gave you a small nod, a stark contrast to his previously angered, frustrated state. “After you,” he mumbled, motioning towards the door.

You sent him a playful smirk as you walked past him. “Why, thank you. That was almost gentlemanly of you.”

“Keep up the smart ass remarks and m’shootin’ an arrow into yer behind.”

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seafoamsol · 4 months ago

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The best years of my life...

... what I wouldn't give to have them back.

I had the great pleasure of working with @spiderscribe on a DeadCeptor work for the @tf-bigbang, which you can (and should!) read [ HERE ]!

Details and artist commentary under the cut!

Okay, first off, I just wanna say, thank you so much to @spiderscribe for picking up my very loose scribble and taking the jump. She's an absolute champ, and I IMPLORE you to read her writing. She did a knockout job on the fic, and guaranteed, these two pieces wouldn't have been so elaborate without her. If you're a fan of deadceptor, parallels, lovers to enemies to apocalyptic teammates to ???s, I'm sure you'll find that and more in there.

[ HERE ] is the link to that, if you missed it the first time around.

The background for the supermarket was a MASSIVE undertaking. I ended up blurring it in the final to keep the dream-like quality, but there is a lot happening there! Most of the time I spent on the background was (jokingly) complaining though.

Anyone who works retail will know the agony of customer-misplaced stock. The little canisters of energon additives seem like prime candidates to be placed willy-nilly.

The little warning sign... My favorite soda, apple sidra, has a carcinogen warning, so I'm familiar with it. It was slightly surprising to me that those warnings are not countrywide, despite the fact that they very clearly say "California Proposition 65", and well. Not something else, like "Federal" or whatever.

The bags of nuts and bolts below, I asked several people what flavor they would be, and I suppose I failed in my job, because I wanted the purple to be the "regular" flavor, and the green to be the "sour". But grape and lemon-lime work as well!

The tub is full of rust-sticks. I have no idea if that came across. My friends kept calling the individually wrapped ones slim jims, which I mean, I guess!

The car batteries... My idea was that they were similar to shots, in a way? So that's how I ended up with a battery with enough terminals to rival an international airport. It's also sunset-coloured, because, I don't know, that's what Party Flavor is to me.

Okay. The second illustration. This one was a headache, mostly due to my own lack of planning, and the fact that I lost the file for... basically everything I did, including the above illustration. So it was a bit of a rush job.

The background bots started off as these very vague silhouettes, which I'm a little proud of. Look at how nice and somewhat readable they are! Okay, now what if I ruined it? What? You don't like that? That's rather unfortunate, because that's what I proceeded to do. In fact, if I take off all.. 10 or something adjustment layers, they look like this:

My process went: Shadow block> Fill rest of form> Color randomiser> Copy and skew (to populate background)> Hue adjustment> Gradient map> Fill Light> Chromatic aberration> Vignette> Levels> Curves.

The.... Magenta cube is there because due to the nature of the color randomiser, the foot had a high value, and stuck out like nobody's business in the end.

Here's what it would look like without the cube. Begone, distracting white blob! (I didn't have to worry about the lava arm because Percy happened to cover it up. What a save! But if he didn't then... there would have been a second cube.)

Basically, it was a mess. But... at least it came out fine in the end! I hope!

I'd love to have speedpaints on hand, but I was switching between CSP and PS for a good majority of the work.

I'd say that's it for these two pieces! I actually have more, but those demand more time. I'm much slower at doing inks than I am at painting, but I hope you'll get to see them soon.

#phew! been a while since I last did some commentary for a piece #I didn't even go over what everything was on the background shelves but just know if you asked me i'd probably be able to tell you #I have... an additional several pages of a comic based off of the fic that I unfortunately have not finished in time #but I definitely will #again it was amazing working with caroline and I hope to work with her again in future!#maccadam #transformers #tf perceptor #tf dead end #transformers cyberverse #tfc #deadceptor #perceptor #dead end

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bloom-into-blue · 3 months ago

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ℕ𝕠𝕥 𝕒 𝕃𝕒𝕫𝕪 𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣

summary: you're a single mother who verymuch wants a partner once more, and by a stroke of luck, your daughter leads you to a very special someone...

contents: fem!reader x angell, no mania au, reader had a husband before meeting angell, age gap (reader is in her early thirties, angell in her early twenties), reader is very obviously thirsty, some fluff, finge.ring, cunn.ilingus, transfem!angell

word count: 4.1k

author's note: this got so out of hand. i wanted just 1k, maybe 2k. this is my first fic in this blog and it's just showing how whipped i am for angell. good god. i am currently in my era where i wanna be a milf, so you get that this time, but maybe one day, the reader will fuck milf!garofano. maybe. also this is my first smut ever ever sooo feedback? feedback tonite queen?

things hadn't been going so well after your divorce, to say the least.

you have full custody of your daughter, yes, something you're eternally grateful for. a steady job, a nice place to call home, your beloved daughter, for all intents and purposes your life is as perfect as it gets!

but after 5 long years of marriage with an uncaring husband, one who you weren't sure you were attracted to to begin with, you find yourself feeling remarkably lonely. the touch of another, something that's been so scarce for so long, and simply knowing someone treasures you… your heart desperately longs for that. specifically, you find yourself craving a woman before a man, but as no one comes along, it's a somewhat fruitless thought.

alas, while you're a single mother, you enjoy the parenting side quite dearly.

after an uneventful shift at work and a stop by your daughter's school, you're heading back home with her holding your hand, the usual commute for the two of you for the past year or so once the divorce was finalized, though today you've taken a bit of a detour due to some construction work in your usual route. from the corner of your eye, you spot an ice cream vendor and smile to yourself; your daughter's been behaving rather well, it'd be nice to give her a treat today as a reward. “wait for me right here, alright?” you tell the little girl with a smile, then walk over to buy a popsicle for her.

barely a minute passes between leaving and coming back to your daughter, yet when you turn to face her, she's already walked away from where you left her. alarms blare in your head in less than a second, though as quickly as terror arrives, it leaves the second you spot her a few ways away, from where she calls out for you.

“mama, look! the nice lady has a kitty!”

still on edge, you approach your daughter and the woman who's crouching beside her while holding a cat. “hon, i’ve told you to not approach strangers-” you begin with a frown, though your eyes focus properly on the woman besides your daughter. her black hair with its white highlights, the leather jacket and her tank top, though it's not long enough to cover just a bit of navel that peeks out above her jeans, you can see her toned abs even as she crouches… quickly, you force your eyes to meet her golden ones, lest this stranger realize you're absolutely ogling her in broad daylight.

thankfully she doesn't notice, and if she does, she doesn't say it. instead, this stranger stands up to face you properly, making you realize just how much taller she is than you…

your daughter calling out to you curiously is what truly snaps you out of your stupor, and you nervously chuckle to yourself while handing her the popsicle you bought for her.

“s-sorry, i hope my daughter didn't inconvenience you,” you say to the unnaturally handsome woman.

she shakes her head lightly, then glances down at the cat by her feet. “don't worry, it's no trouble.”

while your daughter is delighted to be eating her ice cream, she still looks at the taller woman with a glint in her eye. “mama, can i keep playing with the lady and her kitty? pretty please?” your child begs between licks of her ice cream, and it's hard to say no to that sweet face and those puppy dog eyes. (part of you is glad she took after your side of the family entirely in the looks department)

“you can play with the kitty hon, but make sure to not bother the lady,” you warn with just a hint of firmness in your voice. with a happy cheer, your daughter goes on to pet the black cat, who doesn't seem to mind if his loud purring is any indication. the stranger before you smiles at the sight, a tiny grin at best, and you feel something in your heart throb at the sight.

…you realize you're acting like a lovesick schoolgirl as a grown woman, but you push the thought as far away as possible.

“seems he likes your kid. he's not this nice to most people,” you hear her say, which brings your attention back to the situation at hand. your gaze follows hers and you see your daughter, her popsicle partially melting in one hand while the other continues to pet the cat like he's the world's greatest treasure, and your quickly-developing crush is pushed briefly to the side, instead letting your heart focus on the adorable sight.

smiling, you nod your head. “she likes cats, though we don't have one right now.”

“hm. this one's clingy when he wants to be. usually he waits around this spot for me to come home from work.”

“oh, is that so?” mentally, you think it might be nice to take this route more often.

and that's how you first meet angell.

the more you get to know her, the more of a mess you realize she is.

the two of you chat for a few minutes at the end of each work day while your daughter plays with angell’s cat, a new addition to your peaceful routine. while you talk about your hobbies and your work sometimes, angell tells you she's a delivery worker for a well known restaurant here… but when you learn about her dietary habits, you don't know whether to pity her or be flabbergasted. it's a wonder she's a healthy and fit woman if she's always eating foods that may very well be expired by at least a month. it's quite the juxtaposition between her workplace and her actual food, which baffles you even more when you realize she's paid really well for a delivery worker.

it gets to the point where you start making lunches for all three of you, though you give angell hers at the end of each day. the first time you gave her that container with something as simple as pasta with some fried chicken on the side, yet the way she looks at you when she sees it… “for me?” she whispers with wide eyes, and you forever commit to memory the way her expression turns tender and fond and her cheeks flush. it's a herculean effort to not kiss her.

something else that's made you weak in the knees for this woman is that, much to your surprise, she starts playing with your daughter by letting her hang from her biceps and even spinning around with the child holding onto her, to your daughter's delight. it's become something that your daughter adores, and when she's laughing brightly and angell thinks you're not looking, you see the way the taller woman smiles softly at your child, only to become pink at the cheeks when she realizes you're watching her. angell is usually a rather stoic woman, so the rare sight of her being so bashful is one you realize you want to see more often.

at one point, you decide to invite her for dinner, something your daughter instantly cheers for. angell looks shocked at first, but she smiles and agrees with ease.

the three of you then walk back to your home, all while your daughter chants happily. “miss angell’s stayin’ with us! miss angell's stayin' with us!”

it's… nice. you didn't expect angell to be good with children when you first met, but this almost feels perfect.

when you arrive to your home, your daughter is quick to head back to her room to change from her school uniform, so with a fond sigh, you set your coat in the nearby rack and turn to angell with a little smile. “would you like to help me cook dinner?”

“i… i would like that,” angell replies in a low voice. this is the first time the two of you are alone together. hearing her voice like this, so smooth and deep… part of you wonders if you'll live past tonight.

angell takes off her leather jacket and puts it beside your coat, which prompts you to stare at the ground intensely in order to avoid gluing your eyes to the newly uncovered skin of her arms and shoulders, and the way her muscles move… focus, focus!

the two of you settle on making red bean soup at your suggestion, and it's a relatively easy affair with two pairs of hands working, even if angell's movements are clumsy and you gently have to guide her.

your daughter comes out of her room a few minutes later, and she's all smiles as she watches you and angell cook, though she quickly distracts herself by watching cartoons in the living room.

once more, you focus on the meal you're trying to prepare and the quiet woman you're trying not to kiss silly.

when you two are done preparing the soup, you move to grab three bowls so you all can eat while angell stirs it a bit to check its consistency. “it smells nice,” she murmurs.

“that's good to know,” you reply with a little smile, so focused on the bowls you're holding that, when you turn around, your front accidentally bumps into angell’s, and you remain close to her due to the kitchen's somewhat reduced space.

from this distance, you can see angell's golden eyes widen a fraction and her cheeks flush slightly, though your focus is more on the way her toned abs and her chest are flush against your own body, which makes your own cheeks redder than a tomato. your noses are almost brushing, and your eyes wander down to her soft lips.

“you're warm,” you hear angell muse quietly, and with a little squeak, you step back and turn away before even allowing yourself to imagine what it would be like to kiss her. faintly, you can almost hear her chuckling.

dinner is served a moment later, and soon, angell, your daughter and you sit together for a nice dinner, though the little glances you and angell exchange feel too charged to focus on anything but the taller woman.

midway through your dinner though, the sound of rumbling thunder crashes above your house, prompting your daughter to shriek fearfully and you to jump as well, while angell simply frowns. the sky had been clear during the trek to your home, but to think a storm was coming? just a few seconds later there's the sound of rain as well, slowly growing from a light drizzle into a heavy downpour. it's some hell of a background noise, something that puts your daughter on edge and makes you frown at her reaction.

angell, as always, surprises you though. “hey, it's okay. your mom and i will keep you safe from thunder,” she says with a totally straight face.

“r-really?” your daughter asks, clearly doubtful.

“yeah, really.” angell smiles at the girl and adds, “i'm strong enough to keep the two of you safe. that thunder won't come close to you, ever.”

your daughter's eyes widen at angell's confidence, and with that reassurance, she resumes eating her dinner happily. the sight, coupled with the gentle way angell reassured her, makes your heart feel light; you love seeing the two of them bond like this.

dinner happens uneventfully after that, though the rain remains as heavy as before, even when it's your daughter's bedtime. you reluctantly tell angell to wait for you in the living room while you tuck the little girl in for the night, worried about what the two of you should do now.

you refuse to let angell walk back home under the rain though.

“the storm doesn't seem to be letting up,” angell comments when you come back, her expression annoyed at the sight of the rain hitting the windows of your home.

it's then that an idea pops up in your mind, and before you can stop yourself, you open your mouth and say, “you could sleep here for the night.” hastily, you add, “i-if that's fine with you, of course.”

angells seems caught off guard at first, though her expression shifts into the smallest smile as if she were… shy? “i’d like that. better than walking under the rain.”

smiling to yourself in both relief and delight, you take angell's hand and guide her to your bedroom, realizing that her cheeks turn a slight pink when she notices where you're headed. the sight is beyond adorable and makes your smile wider.

in the bedroom, you rummage through your clothes trying to find something that angell can use as sleep wear, eventually finding an oversized sweater and a pair of loose shorts, though the sweater seems to fit angell's form just fine once she comes out of the bathroom wearing your clothes. she smiles when she notices you staring, though you quickly tear your gaze away from her form.

you take your own combination of a long-sleeved shirt and shorts before heading to the bathroom to change as well, then come back out to find angell sitting on your bed, as if waiting for you like an obedient pup.

“should i sleep in the living room sofa?” she asks before standing up to face you.

“oh, no no, we can just share my bed!” you say cheerfully without thinking. a mere millisecond later you realize what you just said, and your cheeks go red at your own suggestion.

angell, bless her, simply smiles. “alright. it is kinda cold tonight,” she remarks.

while you still feel bashful about your faux pas, this response is one that makes your heart skip a beat.

when the two of you get under the covers together, there's a bit of a distance that separates you from angell, though she sighs softly before inching closer and wrapping her arms around you like it's nothing, somehow. your eyes go wide and you feel your cheeks grow warm, and from this distance her golden eyes draw you in, just as they did when you first met.

“is this alright?” she asks almost nonchalantly, but you've grown used to her, you think. the underlying nervousness and shyness in her tone are not some product of misplaced illusion.

“it’s… more than alright.”

“…good.”

she holds you close, the rain still falling as little more than background noise, and the two of you simply… lay together. you allow your eyes to scan her face, even though you're both supposedly going to sleep now, and manage to catch her eyes traveling down to your lips, then flickering back up as if she didn't want to get caught.

so it's mutual, you think as a little smile rises to your face. “how about we stop this little game, why don't we.”

it's adorable how her lips form a little pout, clearly showing her puzzlement at those words, though all confusion flees when she feels your lips against hers, and instead you're rewarded with a quiet, soft grunt before her lips move in tandem with yours. your hands go down to hold her waist as she kisses you, and in return angell's hands rise to tangle her fingers through your hair.

she's inexperienced, you can tell by the way her teeth clash against yours sometimes, but that doesn't change how heavenly angell feels, how gentle she is despite clearly wanting to do even more.

at this point though? you're both equally desperate.

you pull away, just a few inches, and she's already whispering against your lips, “can we do more?”

you want to feel scandalized, almost. she's barely started kissing you and she already wants to do more, and yet… “i… so long as we're quiet,” you reply in a hushed whisper, but that's all it takes for angell to kiss you once more, though there's a hunger to her motions that goes entirely unrestrained now.

“you make my heart all… crazy,” angell murmurs against your lips, then pulls away to start leaving open mouthed kisses across your jaw, then neck, and soon she's silently asking for permission to lift your shirt by playing with the hem of it. you nod almost too eagerly.

angell takes in the sight of your bare front as she lifts your shirt up, and while you feel self-conscious for a second as you think of your stretch marks and extra weight, she's quick to reassure your insecurities in the way her lips continue their sloppy journey down the expanse of your skin, stopping at the valley of your breasts to nip and kiss at each tit.

“you're beautiful.”

“so… stunning.”

“you taste so good.”

if her mouth weren't working wonders across your body, you'd pull angell up to kiss her silly once more.

your hand tangles itself in her hair as she keeps going, and you bite your lip to avoid gasping loudly, for her mouth has wrapped itself around your nipple and god, she's driving you crazy.

the very tip of her tongue circles your areola, the sensation too much and yet not enough at the same time, before your grip on her hair tightens the second angell starts flicking the bud of your nipple properly, then she presses her tongue flat against the sensitive skin. she's not inexperienced, you realize, simply needy, hungry, eager.

angell lets go of your nipple with a quiet pop, and it's then that you realize she's pulled your shorts and underwear down while you weren't paying attention. “a-angell?” you call, though you want this as much as she does.

she hums curiously in response, and her lips kiss down your navel, until she's right next to the place where you need her most, where she plants a soft kiss to your inner thigh and makes direct eye contact.

“n-nevermind. carry on.”

she chuckles, the little devil. “thanks, babe.”

oh, you're going to lose your mind.

angell then dives right in, delivering almost teasing licks to your lower lips like she suddenly wants to take her time with you, uncomfortably akin to a cat playing with its prey. while she teases you with barely any pressure, you throw your head back, because this is still the first time someone has touched you like this in a long time.

and yet, it's everything you need. she's everything you need.

it takes her a few minutes, but suddenly, angell's already pushing two fingers inside your aching cunt, and this time you actually have to cover your mouth to avoid letting out a loud cry. angell takes it as a sign to be even more bold, and soon she's wrapping her lips around your clit and sucking while her fingers move in and out, then press down and curl right up against that gummy spot that has your toes curling in an instant. you realize she's started to grind her hips against the bed, but by god, you cannot focus on anything that isn't her mouth and fingers.

“god, angell, please-” you whimper quietly, only to muffle another moan when she increases the pace of her fingers, pumping in and out with a squelching noise. you can feel angell smiling as she lets go of your clit, as if she were savoring each reaction she gets out of you.

“don't worry, babe. i’ve got you,” she rasps against your drenched folds, the vibrations absolutely adding to the stimulation that's already making you bite your hand just so you can remain quiet. between that and the way her fingers fill your pussy, she's making you see stars.

your back arches while angell eats you out, but the second you let out another quiet gasp, she pulls away her mouth and fingers as if she could feel you were close to cumming.

angell chuckles at the way you whine, feeling empty now that her fingers don't fill you up anymore. “sorry, i just can't hold back anymore. really feels like i’m going crazy,” she whispers as she rises up from between your thighs.

you curiously raise an eyebrow, but before you can ask about what she means, angell pulls the shorts you lent her down. her dick is hard, tip red and coated in precum, clearly showing just how riled up eating you out has left her.

your eyes widen at her size, though you quickly realize angell almost looks nervous now, and that's enough for your expression to soften instantly.

“c'mere, honey,” you prompt gently, and the second angell leans down with her torso hovering over yours, you pull the sweater she's wearing off of her, leaving her bare for you to see in all her glory.

while she seems genuinely embarrassed at first, all it takes for her to relax is you gently cupping her cheek. just like that, those golden eyes you love so much gaze at you with lust and affection once more.

her chest, soft and pliant, presses against yours while the tip of her cock brushes against your cunt in a way that leaves you both eager for more.

“i'm going in now. last chance to back out,” she whispers against your ear.

“sweetheart, please just hurry,” you beg a moment later. angell holds back a soft laugh at just how eager you sound, and she decides she's done teasing you for tonight, just because she finds you cute.

you let out a soft sigh before gasping against her neck. angell grunts at the same time, slowly and gently pushing her cock inside you and filling you up in a way that feels wonderful. she shivers above you, breathing ragged and warm against your skin, and you wrap your arms around her back.

she lets you adjust, because this woman is as sweet as she's quiet, whispering about how good it feels, how you take her so well, how warm and tight you are around her cock.

soon the feeling isn't enough, and you whisper with utter need, “please… take me, angell.”

“i'd love nothing m-more,” she replies in a breathless murmur.

she pulls her hips away until the tip of her weeping length is the only thing that remains inside, then slams herself right in like it's natural for her, dragging a startled gasp from you due to how intense it is, how intense the pleasure is. you're quick to bury your face into your pillow, biting it to avoid letting out too loud a noise while angell does her best to keep her groans and whimpers quiet.

“god, you feel s-so tight,” she says while thrusting her hips into yours again, her pace slow yet hard. it's like she wants to focus on your pleasure, yet her own hunger drives her into increasing the pace of her hips.

soon she's relentless and almost growling against the skin of your neck, her hands gripping your hips almost possessively while she thrusts her cock in and out of you. all you can think about is her, her hands on your body, her lips on your neck, angell, angell, angell.

at one point, angell grips the back of your knees and pushes them back against your chest, all while thrusting relentlessly against your body, and the pleasure is already coiling in ways you hadn't even felt before in your life.

“i'm close, ‘m close,” you gasp while trying to stay silent, yet angell makes it so damn hard as she grunts against you.

“go ahead. let go, please, cum ‘round my, please,” she begs, and it's obvious that this song and dance of yours was going to end like this from the start.

with a strangled gasp, your mouth falls open and you cum around angell like she so eagerly pleaded for, leaving a white, frothy ring around the base of her length in just a few thrusts. the sight makes angell let out a sound between a grunt and a whine, and she bites down onto your shoulder before pulling out and stroking herself to completion, cumming all over your tummy while quietly gasping against your skin. the bite only adds to your pleasure, even with the slight pain that follows.

once she's done milking her own cock, angell flops down on top of you and lets go of your shoulder, her breath coming out in tired pants that match your own uneven breathing.

you let her lay there gladly, going as far as to stroke her hair before pressing a kiss to her forehead. angell hums at the sensation, then pays you right back with a kiss right on the center of her bite mark.

“be my girlfriend?” she asks, sounding satisfied yet drowsy.

with a tired little giggle, you continue to run your fingers against her scalp. nuzzled against you like this, she once again reminds you of a cat.

“you did it a bit out of order, love.”

#ptn women x reader #ptn x reader #path to nowhere smut #ptn smut #ptn angell x reader #ptn angell smut #path to nowhere x reader #path to nowhere angell x reader

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tusks-and-claws · 1 year ago

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I’m Not What You Need (But I Am)

Miguel O’Hara x female reader

Summary: “When you sit there/acting like you know me/acting like you only brought me here to get below me”

You have a concern to bring to Miguel, but when he hears what you really think of him, he doesn’t let you off so easily

Tags/warnings: smut (18+), oneshot, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, kind of missionary idk what to call it, dominant Miguel, brat taming, orgasm denial, dirty talk, choking, sort of strangers to lovers, maybe a little bit of a hatefuck if you squint, reader is a Spider person, def a bit out of character

Wordcount: 3.5k

Find on Ao3 here :3

"Why are you coming to me with such trivial annoyances?" Miguel O'Hara asked you from the platform of his lab, at least ten feet above you. He was tapping on various screens, not giving you eye contact. It felt purposeful, pointed.

"I'm sorry, I thought you wanted to know when fights broke out. Keeping the peace and all that." You felt yourself growing warm, anxiety fluttering in your stomach.

"What I want," he said, his tone growing short. "Is for people to sort out their own bullshit, so I can worry about what's important. Which, if you haven't noticed, is much bigger than you and I and some stupid fight in the lobby."

As soon as he said it, you knew he was right. But he was still being an asshole. You were only trying to help.

You put your hands up in defense. "I just thought you'd wanna know." Then whispered under your breath "douchebag," as you turned to walk away.

But your progress was halted by something tugging at your wrist. You looked down to see what it was, and closed your eyes, quietly cursing yourself. Neon red webbing.

"You wanna run that by me again?" Miguel asked.

You swallowed a lump in your throat. "Nothing, it was nothing. I'll just leave."

You tried to pull free, but he was reeling you in, like a helpless fish on a hook. "Oh, no," he said, sounding somewhat amused. "No, I heard you. 'Douchebag,' eh? Not very creative. But…" he paused when you were closer, close enough that he could look directly down at you. "I want to hear you say it again. Face to face, this time."

You frowned. "How can we be 'face to face' when you're so high above me?"

He wagged a finger at you. "You've got a point there." In a sudden flash of tingling, your Spider sense triggered. But Miguel was too fast, he'd been doing this for far longer than you had. In an instant, you were wrapped in neon red and being hoisted upward onto the platform. He planted you right in front of him, putting his hands on his hips and leaning down so his eyes were level with yours. "Happy?"

You huffed. Why was he like this? A self-satisfied grin played at the edges of his plush lips as he scrutinized you with bloodshot eyes. Finally registering how close he was, and how huge he was, you started turning red. He could throw you around like you weighed nothing, couldn't he? He had just lifted you up here with hardly any effort. You'd never thought about another Spider like this. Sure, you were all strong, but there was something in Miguel's upper body that you couldn't free from your thoughts, something in those massive shoulders, something-

"Well?" He asked, breaking your trance. "I don't have all day."

You met his eyes. They looked so tired. You didn't want to insult him anymore. You wanted to leave and pretend like the thoughts you had about him never existed.

But you knew what he needed to hear.

"Douchebag," you repeated.

He smiled, and it was humorless. "It's nice to know that this is what people think of me. That I did this for all of us, and everyone in our worlds. And the word that comes to mind when people talk to me is…?" He raised an eyebrow prompting you.

"...Douchebag."

"That's right!" He pointed a finger at you. "I don't ask for much. I ask for people to listen and respect the operation. And that means respecting my time, too, eh? No more coming right to me with petty fights that people can solve on their own."

You just stared back up at him, hardly registering his words. Respect time, no more fights, whatever. His hair looked so soft.

"Got it?" He asked, starting to sound frustrated again.

You nodded.

"I need to hear you say it."

"G-got it."

"Good." He patted your shoulder. What an odd gesture. It was very nearly caring. "Let's get you out of here." He flexed his hand, talons coming free. He quickly swiped at the webbing he had wrapped you in, the strands snapping and falling to the floor in shreds.

Your heart was hammering in your chest. His brow furrowed. "Listen, I know I'm scary, but I'm just doing my job."

You shook your head. "I'm- I'm not scared."

"Are you not? Dios mio, I can hear your blood pumping."

His heightened senses were going to be your death sentence. The longer he stood staring at you, the worse your thoughts became. But you couldn't bring yourself to move away from his attention. You crossed your arms, trying to make yourself small so he would stop looking at you.

He raised an eyebrow. "What, do you wanna be friends or something?"

No, you thought, I want us to be something different.

Despite your best efforts, you blurted out, "no, in all honesty, I've never really liked you that much." Why did you say that? What was wrong with you?

He cocked his head, his eyes widening, processing what you just said. He started to nod. "Oh, wow. Great. Thank you so much. What a productive conversation. And you're still here because…?"

"Because you getting the last word in is infuriating to me." You couldn't stop yourself. You knew this was bad, but you couldn't stop.

"How do you think I feel? You came here for the sole purpose of bothering me and now you won't leave me the shock alone." He pointed at you again, forefinger lightly jabbing your collarbone. "You. Can. Leave. This is my lab, you little brat." He spoke the words through gritted teeth, and you could just barely see his elongated canines, gleaming and sharp in the light of the lab's computer screens.

Oh no.

You stood there, just blinking at him. You've never seen someone so annoyed looking so attractive at the same time. It wasn't fucking fair.

He suddenly started, the anger from his face vanishing, confusion taking its place. "Oh yeah?" He asked, his voice taking on a mocking tone. "That's why your heart is pounding?"

Fuck.

"What, uh… what do you-"

"Don't play dumb with me.” He placed a gloved finger under your chin, tilting your head up towards him. “I can smell that you're turned on. Is that why you came here to bother me? So you could gawk at me? And maybe I'd fuck you if you were lucky."

You backed up, nearly slipping off the edge of the raised platform. Miguel reached out and caught your hand, pulling you in close to him. Unconsciously, you splayed your hands on his chest to steady yourself. His body was so warm and inviting, and you were drawn into it like a little planet circling a blazing sun.

What was happening, what were you doing?

"Is that what you thought?" He asked, seeming to echo the questions you asked yourself, his voice growing more quiet as he looked down at you.

You quickly raised your hands away from him, closing them into loose fists and crossing your arms again. "No," you said, truthfully.

"But you're thinking it now." He nodded. "Aren't you?"

After a pause, you nodded too.

"I really need to hear you say it." He probed.

"I'm…. I'm thinking about it now."

"Oh, are you? Thinking about what?"

You swore under your breath, doing a poor job of hiding a scowl. You should've known he wasn't going to make it easy for you.

"Thinking about you fucking me." You grimaced after admitting it, waiting for him to mock you and disown you.

He smiled. "That's funny. I thought I was a douchebag."

"Fuck you, man!" You threw your arms up into the air, turning around and preparing to hop down from the platform.

“No no no, come on, now,” he said, grasping your wrist with a large, warm hand. His grip was surprisingly gentle. “Why don’t you give me a chance to change your mind?”

You looked him in the eyes, and there was a small spark there. You sighed, unable to deny the reaction your body had to him. You wanted him. And he was offering himself to you. What reality was this where that was even possible? Not ten minutes ago, you were hardly closer than strangers. “Okay,” you said, offering him a small grin. “Don’t fuck it up.”

“Oh, I won’t.” In another swift movement, he swept you up into his arms and laid you down on your back on the lab floor. He was above you, arms on either side of your head, boxing you in. You could hardly see anything past those vast shoulders. You swallowed. He raised one hand to your head, petting your hair. “Look at that. You really are so pretty. Couldn’t help thinking it even when you were pissing me off earlier.”

You furrowed your brow. “I thought you wanted to change my mind, asshole, is this-”

He cut you off as his hand lowered, skating down your side and brushing against your breast before traveling even further. You exhaled shakily, trying to prepare yourself for this. Miguel O'Hara was touching you. Miguel O'Hara was going to fuck you.

When he reached the curvature of your hips, he fondly squeezed, humming to himself. "Soft… so soft. You wouldn't want an asshole like me to eat you out, would you?"

Your brain short-circuited at how blatant he was. "No, I- I would, I really fucking would, Miguel."

"Oh, are we on a first name basis, now?" He hooked a clawed finger into the fabric of your suit, ripping a huge gash into it so he could access you. That… that was your good suit. You bit down on your bottom lip, trying to keep yourself from quipping back at him as he scooted downward, wrapping his arms around your thighs and lining himself up with your pussy. You threw your head back in anticipation, screwing your eyes shut. How was this real? How was-

You gasped as his tongue made gentle contact with your sex, slowly and carefully licking a long swipe from your opening to your clit, like he was savoring the first taste of you.

"You taste even better than you smell, amor."

Fuck, he was savoring you. You trembled beneath him, your hands tentatively reaching down to tangle with his hair. And it was even softer than you thought it would be.

"That's it," he encouraged. "Hang onto me."

You listened, your grip on his hair tightening. As if that were his cue, he brought his tongue back to your aching pussy, lapping at the wetness that was all but dripping from you. Your body immediately felt too hot on the metal floor, and you were convinced that you were beginning to melt under the warmth of his tongue. The almost-penetration was sending you spiraling; he was giving you nothing that you needed while somehow simultaneously answering your every secret desire. You needed that mouth on your clit. Your greedy, aroused body needed more, more. You had him all to yourself and he was teasing you. It wasn't fair.

You whimpered as you gripped soft locks of his hair, waiting for him to take the plunge. Waiting…. And waiting. But he just kept lapping contentedly at your entrance, just barely dipping his tongue inside. The feeling was pleasant but infuriating. What was he trying to do? Did he want you to beg for it?

Oh.

…He couldn't be serious.

But that was the only conclusion you could reach. After all, he'd been asking to hear you say things this entire encounter, prompting you to be vocal. All you had to do was swallow your pride.

"M-Miguel…?" You asked, your voice quiet.

He stopped, picking his head up slightly, looking at you from under his thick brows. "Mm? What is it?"

"Please, um… please…." Your voice caught in your throat. Why was this so difficult?

"Oh, you're begging me now? What could you possibly be begging for… Isn't this what you wanted?"

You narrowed your eyes as he held your gaze with that lackadaisical expression.

"Please," you started, feeling humiliated. "Please suck on my clit."

"Good girl. All you had to do was ask." In no time at all, his mouth was back on you. He zeroed in on your clit, taking the sensitive bundle of nerves into the wet warmth of his mouth, sucking on it just as you needed. The feeling was so intense and you couldn't suppress any of the noises that escaped you. And the noises he made didn't help in the slightest. He was humming as he worked your clit, the gentle vibrations of his voice adding to the overstimulation. He stopped for a moment to instead use his tongue, and the pointed attention was delicious.

"How are you feeling, amor?" He asked without fully pulling away from you, his voice slightly lisping from the contact.

"Good," you gasped, feeling like you were getting close to the edge. "So, so good. Please keep going."

"Tell me when you're going to cum."

"Yes, yes I will."

He continued his efforts, mercilessly devouring you, a cacophony of wet sounds rising to meet your ears. You could feel your orgasm building, your body singing. He was playing you like an instrument. That warm, pulsating feeling was building deep inside your core, threatening to burst apart with every second.

Your grip on his hair tightened. "Miguel, I'm- I'm gonna-"

Your back started arching and you closed your eyes as… nothing happened. He pulled his head away from you. You opened your eyes to see him looking at you from between your legs, one of his eyebrows raised.

"Wha- what?"

He smirked. "Oh, this? It's nothing... It's just that douchebags usually don't care about making women cum."

Your jaw dropped open. This again? You gritted your teeth, your clit swollen and thrumming with your pulse. You needed release.

"I'm sorry." You said, your voice desperate.

He raised his eyebrows, amused. "Oh, wow, that was fast." His tone was so matter-of-fact.

"I'm sorry for calling you a douchebag and an asshole, I was wrong about you. Please let me cum." You spat the words out so quickly that you hardly registered what you were saying.

"How could I say no to that?" He returned to you, gripping your thighs more firmly than he had before, shamelessly moaning into you as you started to curl up off the hard metal floor. Your orgasm was so close, it was right within your grasp. Your breath started going ragged as you held onto him for dear life. In a white hot burst of pleasure, you came, swearing loudly as Miguel drank up every bit of you, letting you ride your orgasm out on his skillful tongue. He slowed down right as you did, matching your pace perfectly until you were a heaving mess on the floor in front of him.

"My turn, now," his voice came through the fog, it sounded distant. But you could feel strong arms lifting you up and all but dropping you onto your back on one of the lab's computer consoles, its screen turning off in response. He dismissed a section of his high tech suit, his manhood coming free. You couldn't help but gawk at him. His body was unreal. From the small window he created, you could see hard lines of muscle carved into golden skin. Your head started spinning again.

He began pumping his hard cock as he looked down at you, spreading your legs further open with his free hand. "See how easy it is to get what you want when you aren't being a brat?" The way his muscles flexed through his tight suit while he worked himself was maddening. You wanted- no, you needed him to fuck you. You needed him inside you.

You nodded your head, answering his question.

"So, tell me what you want."

"I want you to fuck me," you answered, still panting from your orgasm. "I want to feel you so badly. Please, Miguel."

"You're a fast learner," he purred, bringing his cock to your folds and lubricating himself on the mess you two had made. He slid over your slick entrance, his head touching your aching clit as he moved up and down. "I'll fuck this pretty cunt for you, since you asked so nicely."

He positioned himself at your entrance and slowly pushed himself inside of you, inch by thick inch. You moaned, the feeling of finally being full was luscious, he was pressing at your walls from all angles. At last, when he was in up to the hilt, he stayed there for a moment while his large hands found your waist.

"My God, look at you. You took all of me, and so shocking well. You," he exhaled, seemingly taking a second to compose himself. "You feel so good."

"Thank you," you whispered, breathless. He was praising you. It was… nice to hear. Stubbornness be damned.

He chuckled to himself. "Please and thank you? You really do learn fast. You've earned this, amor." And with that, he pulled himself out of you, slamming back in with a hard slap. Over and over, he fucked you with the entire length of his cock, hitting spots inside of you that you weren't sure even existed. "Lemme hear you, I wanna hear it all."

You obeyed. "O-oh my God, Miguel, fuck. It's… it's so good. Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you."

Thanking him fueled his fire; his grip on your waist tightening, red eyes sparkling wildly. "Good girl, that's it… watching my cock disappear inside of you… it's making me crazy. You like getting fucked by someone you hated before all this? You wanna get filled up by someone you don't even like?"

"Yes, please." Your back arched into him, the pressure from his unwavering thrusts overwhelming you. The feeling was impossibly perfect, your body tingling from your head to your toes. He really did fit inside of you so well.

"You'll get it, baby. Keep being good for me, you'll get it."

As he continued, his hands roamed your body. Groping at your breasts, resting on the soft slope of your stomach. You grabbed one of his traveling hands, a rogue feeling overtaking you as you brought it up to your throat.

His eyes widened in disbelief. “Y-yeah? You want me to choke you?” He sounded excited.

“P-please,” you huffed, grabbing onto his forearm.

“Holy shit, you’re something else.” He began applying gentle pressure to your airway as he kept fucking you. It was the perfect amount of constriction; suppressing your breath intake just enough for your head to feel pleasantly airy. He was good at that, why was he so good at that?

Between the way he was pounding you and the way he was choking you, your muscles started to bear down on him.

"Yes, yes, squeeze that cock. Good girl. You’re gonna get what you want.”

You clenched down on him, your orgasm rocking you to your core as he fucked you through it. It hit you in giant waves, crashing over you and pulling you into the undertow. You felt completely drunk on it. The warmth of it was everywhere in your body, all the way up to your fingertips. Your head swam, your eyes rolling back into your head. Miguel swore to himself, his tempo becoming more irregular. He released your throat, hands flying down to grip the console. You thought you could hear it cracking.

“God, you’re tight. I’m gonna fill you up.”

“Yes,” you rasped, your body shaking.

He growled as he came inside of you, bearing his fangs in clenched teeth once more, and you could feel his cock twitch followed by the heat of his seed as it stuffed you full. He lingered over you, his eyes looking frenzied as his gaze flicked over your face, his chest heaving with every recovering breath.

You released a deep sigh, smiling tenderly at him. “Thank you, Miguel.”

“You, uh,” he started awkwardly, running his hands through his hair. He still hadn’t even pulled out of you yet. “You earned it,” he repeated.

He took a short, unsure step back, as he pulled his length free from you. You could feel his cum leaking from you upon his release. There was so much of it.

He held his hand out to you to help you up, and you grasped it, smiling again as you got to your feet.

“I’ll clean this mess up, but you.…” He scanned your frame. “...I’ve got a pair of pants on one of the lab chairs down there.” He pointed toward a particularly cluttered section of his space. “Bringing them back would be a much better excuse to see me than a fight in the lobby.”

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara #smut #my writing #ive got another one for you you sick bastards #this one was not beta read in the slightest so bear with me pls #hope you enjoy!#i will not stop the metalcore title/summary naming convention anytime soon so my condolences

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cressidagrey · 3 months ago

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Looked to the Sky - Chapter 5

Summary:

Eira Archeron was neither a Valkyrie, nor a Seer, nor the High Lady of the Night Court. She was, however, Azriel‘s mate with her own mysterious, untrained powers.

Also known as: Azriel tries to court his mate the human way.

Warnings:

THIS IS THE LIGHTNING IN A BOTTLE SEQUEL! SO READ THAT FIRST IF YOU WANNA READ THIS ONE OTHERWISE THIS MAKES NO SENSE!

Elain Bashing, Amren bashing, KITTENS!, Accidental Forest Burning?, Non graphic murder, Azriel is an idiot, Azriel's Mom is not having his idiocy and spends 3/4 of this chapter berating him (while being kinda a little bit unfair) and without @k-godling this would have never happened.

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

Master.

Later! Azriel cut his shadows off sharply. He was somewhat busy right now.

It was harsh enough that the shadows actually shut up for once, which was startling in itself. But for the moment he didn’t think about it. Too busy with killing the leader of that Illyrian warband that had been destroying townships and temples left and right.

It was a clean kill, fast and accurate, and Azriel didn’t blink as he watched the male’s body drop at his feet.

The adrenaline was coursing through his veins, as he slowly took in a deep shaky breath, his hands clenching around the knife handle.

Then he turned to the cleanup. The other warband members were still in the camp where they had made a temporary base. Quick, clean and efficient. That’s how they were taught to operate. It’s why Azriel was so damn good at these types of missions.

At least two hours later, it was suddenly Rhys that was yanking at their mental connection, mental claws striking against his shields.

Azriel swore as he felt Rhys’s talons strike against his mental shields. What’s wrong? he demanded immediately. Something must have been wrong, otherwise Rhys would have been more careful with his abilities.

Amren cornered Eira, and Rhys spat out in answer.

WHAT?! he demanded in answer. His shadows immediately started writhing agitatedly behind him, as panic and alarm shot through his veins.

Amren had done that? Even after Rhys had warned her off?

Azriel should have fucking seen it coming. When Amren didn’t agree with her methods…she had her own.

How bad? Azriel asked tonelessly. How had Eira reacted? What had Amren said?

The mental silence stretched for a moment before he felt Rhys’s presence return, the High Lord’s voice now filled with fury. As we have no idea where Eira is right now...bad. She must have winnowed in her panic to get away from Amren.

Fuck.

Azriel was up on his feet in an instant, even as he felt his shadows swirl agitatedly around him. That…he needed to find her. He needed….

He could just imagine what Amren must have told Eira…Amren who had never learned how to soften her word and who he didn’t trust as far as he could throw her. A sinking feeling was already beginning to form in Azriel’s stomach.

Eira could have winnowed anywhere in Prythian. She could be in enemy territory right this second. He didn’t even want to imagine what would happen if Autumn Court got their hands on her, if…

She must be utterly terrified. And the thought of Eira…scared….

Panic and worry flared through his veins, as his shadows writhed even more furiously behind him. He needed to find her, find her and make sure she was safe, safe and sound and away from anything that might make her feel scared. He would not let anything hurt her. Not now, not now when he had just gotten her.

She's in Illyria, his shadows snapped. Which we would have told you if you didn't tell us to shut up, Master!

Godsdamnit.

Azriel cursed, running a hand through his dark hair. Of course, she was in Illyria. Of all the places…Illyria.

Azriel? Rhys questioned.

The shadows know where she is, he responded sharply. I get her.

Good. There was now a sharpness to Rhys’s voice, even through the mental link. Azriel could almost hear the order that remained unsaid. Get her and bring her home.

And Azriel? Whatever you need to do to make sure she’s safe, Rhys said sharply.

She will be. There was a silent promise in his voice. Azriel would ensure it. He would not let anything or anyone hurt her.

Do not let Amren anywhere near me, Azriel said evenly, his voice promising cold death. If they did, he was going to rip her apart from limb to limb.

Agreed. We will take care of it. Rhys’s voice was as cold as Azriel’s, and the Illyrian could practically feel the anger radiating through the mental connection.

And then he let the shadows take him, let him take him wherever his mate was…

They threw him right through the wards that protected Rosehall.

Somehow that was the most shocking thing of it all.

The wind in lower Illyria was cold, the trees silent and still in the darkness. She hit a few trees with lightning, his shadows supplied quietly. Scorched them. No fire though.

That was not what he had wanted to hear. No fire, that was a small comfort. But the lightning? The fact that she had used her magic? It did not bode well.

We led her to your mother. She took care of her, his shadows assured him quietly.

That was a small comfort, but a comfort nevertheless. His mother was good at soothing, and that seemed to be exactly what his mate had needed. Especially after the panic that she must have been in. The fact that it had been triggered by Amren was an entirely different issue. Azriel would deal with that later.

Eira first. Eira was his first priority.

The entire Hamlet seemed to be sleeping, the only sounds coming from the surrounding forest. Azriel crept in as quietly as he could, trying not to rouse the villagers. He made his way to his mother’s home, his shadows still writhing restlessly around him as they searched for Eira.

He didn’t bother to knock. Azriel just went up to the door and quietly pushed it open.

"Azriel." He froze. His mother was sitting in the living room, knitting. She fixed him with a look out of hazel eyes, and for just a moment he felt about 5 years old again. She looked towards the couch with a pointed look and he followed it.

There she was. Eira. Curled up on the couch underneath a thick woollen blanket, asleep.

He could nearly taste the relief.

"Don't wake her," his mother said, her voice quiet and fierce. "We'll talk in the kitchen."

Azriel nodded silently, his eyes still on the female lying on the couch.

She looked tired, exhausted. The paleness of her skin was nearly translucent in the dim lighting, making her look like porcelain. She had curled up on the couch, a woollen blanket thrown over her, hiding most of her body. And she looked so damn small. So breakable.

It took all of his willpower not to rush to his mate, to pull her into his arms and comfort her.

Azriel had to forcibly pull his gaze away from her. Instead, he turned his eyes to his mother and the pointed, steely look she sent his way. He nodded stiffly, before making his way silently into the kitchen.

Azriel was met with a sharp frown from her, as he walked into the kitchen.

His shadows were still writhing agitatedly behind him, while Esmeray’s dark eyes studied him in silence.

If only he could figure out what that look meant. Her eyes scanned his form, as if silently checking if he were hurt, before she let out a small sigh and gestured for him to sit.

"Is there a particular reason why you didn't tell me that you found your mate?" his mother asked him, crossing her arms.

Azriel’s eyes instantly flicked back to the open door to the living room, making sure Eira was still asleep, before he returned his eyes to his mother, meeting her intense gaze with his own.

He had to hold back a flinch. She was angry.

“Because it just happened,” Azriel finally said, his voice as calm and flat as he could manage.

"It happened two weeks ago, according to your mate," his mother said drily. "Your mate, who I didn't know was your actual mate, and who some of my first words to were how sad it was that her twin sister wasn't mated to you!" she hissed.

Azriel winced at her words, silently cursing himself.

He really should have written his mother another letter. Or even gone to visit her. But he had been so busy with trying to wrap his own head around it that he had just…not thought about it.

And he had also been quite sure that his mother would have thoughts about him being mated to the twin sister of the female he had waxed poetically to her about.

How was he supposed to respond? Should he apologize for not telling her? For the fact that she had to find out from Eira? But judging by the sharp glare from his mother, any argument he made would be useless. Instead, he slumped into his chair.

“I am sorry,” he said quietly. “I…I didn’t know how to tell you.”

Esmeray’s eyes narrowed, studying her son with a look that told him she was not happy with that answer.

“I would have thought that something as important as you having found your mate would be one of the first things to come out of your mouth,” she said coldly. “Instead, I find out two weeks later, and not from you.”

He grimaced.

"I find out from your mate after she stumbles into my living room, looking like she just came from Hel and back! After she accidentally winnowed! And killed some trees with lightning of all things! And then, THEN she cries all over my kitchen table because she has been in love with my SON she even became fae, while she was still human but he preferred her twin sister over her. Her twin sister who is apparently a Seer has been manipulating her visions from becoming true. And then the mating bond snapped for you and instead of begging your mate on your knees for forgiveness, all she brings out is that you want to TRY!" Every word his mother said was like a sharp blow to the stomach. Azriel just stared at her, his eyes wide, as he took in the information.

His mind was spinning, as he silently took in her words and the implications of them. Eira…Eira had been in love with him before she was even Fae?

“She was…she said that she was in love with me?” he brought out in a whisper.

"That's what you concentrate on?" his mother snapped.

Azriel snapped his mouth shut, flinching at the note of cold anger in her voice.

“No…no it’s not,” he said quickly, his hands clenching around the fabric of his pants. “It’s just-“

He didn’t know what to say. His mind was still spinning, trying to take in the fact Eira had been in love with him before the Cauldron…before…

"It's just?" his mother asked him, her voice icy.

Azriel floundered his thoughts and emotions in a spin.

“I…I just…” he swallowed nervously, his mind grasping desperately for the right words to say. “I didn’t know she…”

How was he supposed to say that he had somehow preferred Elain over Eira? That he hadn’t even seen the fact that his mate was in love with him before she became Fae?

His shadows writhed agitatedly behind him, their agitation only increasing at his distress. Esmeray, who was sitting across from him, was also watching him like a hawk. The intense look in her eyes made it clear how very close he was treading to her wrath.

“You didn’t notice?” she repeated, her eyebrows raising as she spoke. “That your own mate loved you? Are you blind?” she spat out. Azriel flinched, his hands clenching into tight fists.

“I didn’t…I never saw…”

He had really been that blind, hadn’t he? All this time he had never noticed. Not once. He had been so focused on Elain, blind to the fact Eira had been right there all along.

"That girl...that girl adores you," his mother hissed quietly. "Your shadows dote on her and she lets them touch her without even flinching once, Azriel. You can consider yourself lucky that she is even willing to give you the time of the day anymore. She had every right to ignore you for preferring her twin sister of her!"

Azriel winced again, as a silent pang of guilt shot through his heart.

He knew she was right, damn it. He knew he had absolutely no right to ask her to even give him the time of day, not after he so easily had chosen Elain over her.

“I don’t deserve her,” he whispered, his voice quiet.

"No, you don't. Not with how you have been behaving," his mother shot back. "Do you even like her or are you only courting her because she's your mate?"

Azriel flinched hard at her words.

It was like a blow to the stomach, and a dagger to the heart. Gods. Did his own mother think he was so….so callous, so heartless that he was only with Eira because she was his mate?

"I do," he said quickly, the words practically tumbling out. "I do like her."

He was terrified by the fact that his own mother even thought he would be so cruel as to be with someone he didn't care about, just because of the bond.

"Gods, I do like her, mother," Azriel repeated again, his voice firmer this time. "I…..I know I have not been treating her the way I should, and I...I know I don't deserve her. But I like her, mother. I like her and I want to be with her."

Esmeray studied her son, her eyes cold, before she let out a loud sigh and sat back in her seat.

“Good,” she said quietly, her eyes still fixated on him. “Then, what are you going to do about it? Because she deserves better, Azriel. She deserves everything, which is far more than you have given her so far.”

His mother's eyes roamed over his face, studying him like a hawk. Azriel could practically feel the weight of her gaze on his skin.

Finally, after a moment of quiet tension, Esmeray's lips flattened into a thin line, making it clear she was still displeased. "Have you told the poor girl that you actually want to be with her? That you don't just want to be with her because of the fact that she is your mate or because of whatever vision that sister of her was trying to keep from becoming true?!”

Azriel’s heart sank, the weight of her words pressing down on him.

No, he thought, his heart twisting at the thought. Gods, he had…..he had done nothing, absolutely nothing to convince her of the fact that he actually liked her.

He looked up at his mother, his eyes weary. "No," he said quietly, "I haven’t. When the mating bond snapped...she got hurt a day later...an attempt on the life of Rhys' son...she...she threw herself into a dagger so that Nyx wouldn't be hurt," Azriel recounted, the words sticking in his throat. "Rhys tried to take the pain from her...he accidentally got thrown into her memories. And we all..realised that we had been treating Eira abhorrently," Azriel said quietly. "And then we realised what Elain had been doing, what Elain had been keeping from us."

But the knowledge that Elain had attempted to sabotage her own sister's fate, that she had been manipulating Eira's visions...Azriel went silent, his throat tightening.

"...She...It was a vision she had...of Eira and me and...and of our children," he choked out.

His children with Eira. A future that could have been, if things had been different.

His light-haired, winged little girl, ran about and dug in the dirt.

How he wanted that. How he wanted to see them, see Eira and their little ones, surrounded by their family and friends…

Esmeray's eyes were wide, watching her son as realization dawned in her eyes. Azriel could feel her studying him as if trying to gauge his reaction.

He just stared down at the table, his eyes fixed on the smooth surface, the images of Eira and their children of his own flashing before his eyes.

Children. There would be children.

He would have a family with Eira.

And that Elain had tried to take that from them…it made him so utterly furious.

"When Eira was awake...I went to her and I apologised. I told her that Elain may was the pretty one but she was the kind one and that I knew that she would protect our children fiercely," Azriel said quietly. His hands clenched around the edge of the table, as he forced himself to continue. "And...and then I asked if she would let me court her. The human way, to show her that I meant it."

"You told your mate, hours of off being stabbed, that her twin sister was the pretty one?" his mother hissed.

Azriel winced again, his head hanging down.

He was going to be the biggest fool in Prythian, he was sure.

Gods, even saying it now, it sounded like the stupidest thing he could have said. Of course, it had been the wrong thing to say. Why in the world had he told his mate, who had just risked her life, that her sister was the pretty one?

His mother’s voice was cold. “Why in the name of the Mother did you think that was the right thing to say to your mate? That her twin sister, the one who has been manipulating her own vision, tried to keep your children from you, is the prettyone?"

Azriel flinched at the icy words.

He knew his words had been the wrong ones. He knew that he had said the worst thing he could have said at that moment. But in that moment, all he could think of was that he had always been so blinded by Elain. Blinded by her beauty. Blinded by a pretty face and a veneer and had never seen what lay behind it…

And then there was Eira. Just as beautiful but in a different way. Elain was immediately…blinding. Eira…she snuck up on him. Eira was beautiful but quiet. A quiet sort of realisation, like the moon rising at night, until everything was bathed in her light.

And still…Still, he had said those words out loud. To his mate.

"I am shocked that she even agreed to let you court her after that," his mother said with a snort. "She ought to have hit you atop the head and told you to come back to her when you were willing to actually compliment her. Besides, that's the bestyou could come up with, son?! Her twin is pretty but your mate is kind and would protect your children fiercely? Of all the characteristics, all the abilities she has, that's what you land on?!"

Azriel winced again, clenching his jaw so hard it hurt, as his mother's words rang out in the small room. She was right. Of all the things he could’ve chosen to say, all the things that he could have pointed out, he had gone with that?

Azriel slumped down in his chair. Gods, what had he been thinking?

Esmeray watched her son for another moment, her eyes roaming over his defeated form before she let out a quiet huff. “You really are a fool, aren’t you, my son?" she said, her voice softer than before. "A total and utter fool."

Azriel closed his eyes, hanging his head down.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “I am a total fool who does not deserve my mate and probably won’t until I have grovelled enough and apologized a hundred times.”

His mother let out a low hum, her eyes still fixed on him. “You certainly do not," she said darkly. “But if the girl is willing to give you a chance, even after you have acted like an imbecile of a male…you best make sure you try your hardest. And start grovelling now.”

"I am sorry, " he apologised.

His mother snorted. "You don't owe me an apology. Unless you count it for not writing to me and telling me what exactly is going on in your life," His mother said drily. "I am not angry, just disappointed."

Azriel’s stomach churned at my mother’s words.

That was even worse. Azriel flinched, looking up and meeting her icy gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated again, quieter this time. “I am sorry that I have disappointed you, mother. I am sorry that I have not written.”

His mother’s eyes softened slightly at his words. “You’re my son. And I love you and am proud of you and what you have become. But I won’t have you acting like a total fool, not when that poor girl has had such a terrible life,” she said, her voice gentler than before. “You will not hurt her. You will prove to her that you want her for her, and not only because she is your mate. Is that clear?”

Azriel nodded, his throat tight.

“It’s clear,” he said quietly.

The shame and guilt twisted in his stomach, but he forced it down. He had been an idiot. A fool and an idiot, in denying not only what his heart truly desired, but also in the way he had acted towards Eira.

He wanted- Gods, he wanted her. And he wanted to prove it. Wanted to be a better male and a better mate. Wanted to earn her trust, her affection, her love.

His mother watched him for a moment, seeming to search his face, before she nodded, satisfied.

“Good. You better not keep me in the dark about your life, my son. And you better treat that girl properly from now on,” she said, her voice still stern before the soft, gentle look returned to her eyes. “And I want to see her. You bring her to dinner with you the next time you come, and I will judge for myself that you are treating her properly.”

The corners of Azriel’s mouth twitched, almost in a smile. “I will,” he promised, a little easier now. “I will bring her the next time I come.”

And he would bring her. He would bring her and his mother would see that he was trying to court Eira properly. He would prove to his mother, to his friends and even to Eira herself, that he didn’t want to be with her just because of the bond. That he wanted her. Wanted her for her.

"Now, what exactly does a human courtship even entail?" his mother asked him. “I imagine it’s not like the Illyrian way.

No, it really wasn’t. The Illyrian way was bloody, and violent and involved more than one display of strength.

Maybe that would have been easier for him, Azriel thought weakly. He would gladly go hunt a hundred rabbits and have the fur fashioned into a cloak…Somehow that was easier than the Human way.

“Well…it’s traditionally the male who does the majority of the courting,” he said after a moment of pause. “He…ah…he spends time with the female, takes her out on dates to different places to get to know her, brings her gifts… that sort of thing.”

His mother’s eyes were fixed on him, studying him like a hawk. "How many times have you done that?" she asked, her voice dry. "Spent time with her, taken her out to the human way of dates, brought her gifts?"

"For the very first gift, I gave her a harp," Azriel said softly. "We had lunch together once or twice. Then I brought her flowers when we went to the symphony."

“A harp and some lunch and flowers,” his mother repeated quietly. “That’s it? That’s all you’ve done so far, to woo your mate?”

Azriel felt his face flush again, under her disapproving gaze.

“…yes,” he admitted, his head dropping down slightly.

"It's a start, I suppose," his mother said drily. “A very poor one,” she muttered under her breath.

Azriel’s cheeks flushed once again in shame, at yet another jab from his mother.

"How did you come up with a harp of all things in the first place?" his mother asked him.

"Nesta told me she used to play. Then her family fell on hard times and they had to sell it," Azriel explained.

"And you bought her a replacement harp," his mother said, a slight note of incredulity in her voice. "You didn't think that might, I don't know, bring bad memories to the surface? Remind her of the poverty she had to endure?"

He opened his mouth to respond and then froze. No. No, he hadn't even thought about that. Not once.

"She liked it," he said, slightly defensive. She had liked it...right? She had kissed his cheek, she had thanked him, she had told him that that was the most thoughtful gift anybody had ever given her.

His mother let out a small, disapproving huff.

“Of course she liked it,” she muttered. “Any gift from you she would have liked!”

At his mother’s words, Azriel’s heart sank.

Of course, Eira had liked the harp. He had given it to her, after all. He was her mate. And she was kind, to the point that she probably would have thought whatever he gave her was the greatest gift in the world.

He was being a fool again. He had given her a gift that had brought up terrible memories of her past, without ever thinking of the consequences.

“And how did you even have a lunch with her?” his mother asked, shaking him out of his thoughts. “Did you...did you go into the city to dine with her at some restaurant?”

His cheeks flamed again, his head dropping lower at his mother’s questions.

“No,” he muttered. “We had lunch at the River House with everybody else.”

He could feel his mother’s disapproval without her even saying anything. He didn't even need to look at her face to know the disappointment that would be on it at his answer.

“You ate lunch with her in front of the entire Inner Circle,” his mother stated, her words blunt. “And you thought that counted as a date?”

Her question made Azriel wince, because when she said it out loud like that...it sounded so obvious. "We did go to the symphony with Cassian and Nesta," he defended himself.

His mother let out a sceptical huff.

“Because there is nothing more romantic than sitting around in silence for 3 hours!” his mother snapped. “Have you ever had a proper conversation with her, Azriel?! What are her hobbies?" his mother asked with a sigh. "Can you even tell me that?"

"She's a seamstress, like you," he answered quietly. "She takes commissions from the alterations tailor in Velaris to make some money, and she makes dresses for her sisters. She also likes to bake and cook and she gardens for vegetables.”

"Are that her actual hobbies, or just the chores she prefers to do?" his mother asked him drily. Azriel winced at his mother's words, because...gods, were those Eira's actual hobbies, or just the chores she preferred to do?

His mind reeled at the thought. He knew she took commissions, and he knew she cooked and gardened, but was that what she preferred to do? Or was it simply just chores? Chores that he had never thought to ask to learn if those were what she truly enjoyed?

Was it just what she had done at the cottage? And then continued in the Night Court for lack of other options?

That—gods, that possibility chilled Azriel to the bone and made him feel so ashamed. Had he never even bothered to ask her what she liked to do, aside from what she had done to help her family?

His mother let out another small huff, reading his expression. "You never asked her, did you? You never even bothered to ask if those were her hobbies, or if those were just things she had done out of necessity?”

"She embroiders the things she makes. That's not out of necessity, right?" he asked weakly.

His mother studied his face for a moment, her expression stern as though she was seeing right through him before she finally sighed.

“No, I suppose not,” she conceded after a little while. “And do you know what her favourite colour is?”

Azriel froze at his mother’s unexpected question.

Her...her favourite colour? He was stunned into silence, the realization that he didn’t even know as simple a thing as Eira’s favourite colour suddenly hitting him like a punch to the gut.

“You don’t know her favourite colour, do you?” his mother said, her voice flat. It was more of a statement than a question.

Azriel winced, his silence an answer.

Gods, what kind of mate was he? He hadn’t even bothered to ask any simple questions, like what her hobbies were, or what her favourite colour was. Even something as basic as what her favourite food was, or her favourite time of day, or her favourite place in all of Velaris…he had never bothered to ask her any of those simple, basic questions. He had only assumed.

"You don’t know your own mate’s favourite colour. You don't know what her actual hobbies are. You just know what she did to help her family when she was human. And you took her to the symphony without asking her if she even liked that sort of thing, without even asking her when you are supposed to talk to her and spend time with her and get to know her,” his mother said, her words biting. “Are you even trying to court her?"

The words struck Azriel like a dagger to the heart.

He had truly botched the entire thing, hadn’t he? He had botched every single part of courting her. He hadn’t asked her any questions at all. Not her favourite colour, or her favourite food, or her favourite time of day, or her favourite damn colour. He had taken her to the symphony, to a place she might not even have even liked, had assumed that she would just be fine and would still like it, and he hadn’t even thought of asking if there was anywhere better to take her.

“That was the most pathetic attempt at trying to woo your mate,” his mother said in a low grumble. “That wasn’t attempting to court her. That was you assuming what she might like, rather than asking her what she would actually be interested in doing. And you never even bothered to ask her if she actually enjoyed the times you spent together!”

Azriel closed his eyes as the words stung.

That...that was all true, wasn’t it? He had never thought to ask her a thing. He had just assumed, assumed, assumed, without ever making the attempt to check with her to see if she enjoyed herself or not.

He was an idiot. A stupid, careless, thoughtless idiot.

"You'll do better," his mother demanded.

Azriel nodded, his head hanging down.

He would. He had to. Or he wouldn’t be worthy of being her mate.

He was going to ask her everything about herself. Everything he didn’t even know. He would ask her what her hobbies were, and what her favourite colour was, and what her favourite food was…

He would ask, and he would get to know Eira.

Azriel. Feyre's mental touch and he let her in without a second thought. How is my sister?

Azriel's eyes closed as he felt Feyre’s presence in his mind, and he almost winced at her words.

She...is well enough. She is resting right now.

The silence that followed the mental communication stretched for only a moment, but to Azriel, it felt like an eternity of waiting, as Feyre pondered his words.

Amren...Amren said...some things to her... Feyre’s words came again, her voice laced with anxious worry even in his mind.

Azriel’s jaw clenched.

Damn it. Of course, Amren had said something to Eira. And of course whatever Amren had said...whatever things she had said…had hurt Eira.

Where did you find her?

My mother's house. The shadows brought here there

She’s at your mother’s house...? Feyre’s question came after a moment, her tone even more surprised and bewildered than it had been before.

We are coming, Rhys said softly into his mind.

His mother stared at him for a moment. "Rhys and Feyre are on their way," Azriel said quietly.

Azriel intercepted them at the door, keeping his voice quiet. Feyre was looking extremely anxious and Rhys’ face was taut with worry.

“Thank the Mother you’ve found her,” Feyre said first, rushing over to him, her eyes already darting around, looking for any sight of Eira.

They found her, still unmoving on the couch. Deep asleep.

Azriel could see both Rhys’s and Feyre’s shoulders visibly relax when they saw that Eira was asleep. But Azriel could tell from his high lord and lady’s eyes that they were both still worried.

“Is she…?” Feyre asked quietly, looking up at him with a worried frown. “Is she alright?”

Azriel stared down at Eira’s sleeping form, his chest aching at the sight.

"She's magically exhausted," his mother said calmly. "Rhysand."

The sound of his mother’s voice drew Rhys’s attention, and the High Lord raised his eyes to glance at her, a small smile on his face

"Esmeray," he responded, leaning down to hug her.

Azriel watched silently as his mother and the High Lord embraced each other, while Feyre continued to look between the two of them and Eira.

"You came quickly," his mother said to Rhys, pulling away from his embrace to look him in the eye.

"Of course," Rhys said quietly. "You wouldn’t be telling us our sister is here and expect us to take our time getting here, would you?"

“You know very well that I wouldn’t,” his mother said, her tone dry. “Now come. And don’t you two look at her like that. She is not harmed, nor wounded. She’s simply exhausted.”

"She was just hurt weeks ago," Feyre said quietly. "Badly hurt. She's still supposed to take it easy."

Azriel felt his muscles tense at Feyre’s words. The reminder…Azriel’s hands curled into fists as he remembered seeing Eira bleeding, bleeding profusely from the wound in her side. At seeing her grey skin…her laboured breathing…

You look...murderous, Rhys said into his mind

Murderous was too weak of a word, considering that Azriel wanted to personally hunt down and kill the fae that had dared to harm his mate again. He wanted to be murderous.

Ma had words with me. I fucked up, he admitted.

Rhys was studying him, his eyes sharp like he was reading every emotion in his head. But Azriel could see the slight sympathy in his gaze.

I’ll bet, Rhys said with a sigh. Your mother is brutal at times when she needs to be.

Brutal was an accurate word to use. Azriel had certainly felt the full brunt of his mother’s wrath. Still, he deserved it. He deserved every word she had said. And he would do better.

"Eira?" Feyre said suddenly, kneeling at her sister's side and Azriel's head snapped up to find her move slightly, a whimper coming from her lips.

Azriel held his breath as he watched Eira. Even exhausted as she was, she still looked so fragile, so soft. He wanted to go to her. He wanted to hold her, to reassure her that she was safe, to brush her long curls away from her face. But he kept still.

Feyre let out a soft gasp, reaching out to hold her sister’s shoulder, her touch gentle, as Eira’s head turned to the side, her eyes opening slightly.

"Eira," Feyre repeated quietly, gently squeezing her sister’s shoulder. "Can you sit up?"

Azriel watched as Eira slowly opened her eyes the rest of the way, her brows furrowing as she struggled to focus her eyes in the dim light.

"Fey..." she began weakly, her voice cracking as she struggled to sit up."I am sorry, Feyre," she whispered, wetting her bloodless lips.

Azriel’s heart ached as Eira struggled to sit up, and his hands fisted at his sides as he watched Feyre put a hand on Eira’s back to give her some support.

"No, you are not apologizing for anything," Feyre said firmly, shaking her head as Eira continued to struggle to move. "You have nothing to apologize for."

"I didn't help you. I should have helped you. You were the youngest," Eira disagreed, her voice so weak. "I am sorry."

Azriel’s heart broke at Eira’s weak words, and his chest ached as though he wasn’t able to breathe.

Feyre’s hand continued to support her sister as Eira struggled to speak, until finally, Feyre spoke up before her sister could say anything else.

“You did nothing wrong, Eira,” Feyre insisted, her voice firm. “You did help. Yes, I hunted, but you cooked the meat. You did the laundry. You planted potatoes and carrots and sold whatever you canned and had left over. You made sure we had clothing to wear. You helped, Eira," she promised her.

But Eira’s eyes were still wide and miserable, filled with guilt and shame.

“It wasn’t enough,” Eira whispered. “I wasn’t enough.”

“You were enough,” Feyre promised her. “You did enough. You did the best you could. You did nothing wrong.”

"I don't want to be a weapon."

Azriel’s throat closed at Eira’s words, and Feyre’s eyes squeezed shut, her entire body going stiff even as she held back a sob.

“You are not a weapon,” Feyre said fiercely as she held her sister close. “You are not a weapon, do you hear me?”

"You will never need to be," Rhys said softly, placing a hand on Eira's hair. "It's alright. We won't make you be a weapon or a soldier or anything you don't want to be."

"All you ever have to be is our sister," Feyre continued in a slightly choked voice, stroking her sister's hair. "That is all you have to be. You do not have to fight or defend or be a warrior or anything like that. You don't. I promise you that you don't."

“Let's get you home," she said softly. "Let's go home, Eira."

Feyre began to pull Eira up from the couch, and Azriel moved instantly to offer support, going to Eira’s other side to help Feyre pull her older sister to her feet.

Her grey eyes blinked, seemingly suddenly realising that he was there. "Azriel," she whispered.

Azriel’s heart raced as Eira finally turned to look properly at him, and his heart twisted at the sight. She was pale. So pale. And she looked so fragile and exhausted, her eyes hollow. But it was her voice that nearly broke his heart — the way she had said his name. So softly. So quietly.

A demanding meow broke that moment, a white kitten clinging to Eira's legs.

Azriel’s jaw slackened briefly in surprise, as did Feyre, as they both looked down to see the little white kitten clinging to Eira’s legs.

From behind him, Azriel could hear Rhys’s stifled laughter.

His mother laughed out loud, clearly amused as she leant down to scoop up the wayward kitten. "It seems like she got quite attached to you," his mother said quietly. "You should let Azriel bring you back soon to play with her."

Eira’s grey eyes widened as his mother told her that — though whether it was from surprise or exhaustion, Azriel couldn’t tell.

“I…I would like that,” she said softly, her voice rough, and her words lit up something in Azriel’s chest. Something…warm.

Azriel’s mother gave Eira a long look, her head tilting.

“You are welcome. It is my honour and pleasure to get to know the young woman that my son has taken as a mate,” she said softly.

He was saved from having to respond by a shudder working through Eira's body.

Azriel’s eyes darted back down to Eira as he felt the shudder that went through her and he frowned in worry, his arm around her shoulders instinctively pulling her closer to him.

She was cold, he could feel it even through her clothes, her entire body like ice as she shivered in his arms.

"We should get going," Rhys said apologetically. "Thank you, Esmeray."

"You should come visit more often," Esmeray said drily. "And remind my son of actually keeping up with his correspondence for once."

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x oc #azriel x reader #azriel fanfiction #azriel fanfic #Azriel x Archeron!Reader #the prophecy #Looked to the sky

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semischarmed · 4 months ago

Text

Hunter, Part 2

In the past few days, you’ve turned your neighbor into your own hedonistic puppet. Hunter’s major life changes were a shock to friends and family alike, but they were ultimately supportive as they helped you, his “new boyfriend”, move into your new apartment together. It only turned you on even more to see them cheer and congratulate Hunter, when you maneuvered his body into leaning over to kiss you sensually while your hand cups his right ass cheek possessively. You drew that particular kiss out, partially because he just tasted that good, and partially to goad Hunter.

Next came everything else- bank accounts, social media, Hunter made you a piece of all of it.

“You’re not gonna get awa-w….” Hunter’s body shudders before it lick’s its lips, laying a seductive stare on you. “Coming to bed, babe?” You knew that part always killed him. You make him watch as you don his recently used gym clothes, still reeking of his sweat and warm with his latest session. You take a quick whiff, enjoying the feeling of his sweat glide across your flesh and his scent permeate into you.

The raw, sharp stench of his used compression clothing hung heavy in the room but it wasn’t like Hunter was any better. These past few days were some of the most tiring for him- you loved making his flesh work out, loved the scents and grime he caked himself with, and ultimately decided to keep his body from showering. Hunter probably reeked to everyone else, but he smelled perfect to the only person allowed to matter in his life.

You slide up to him in bed, forcing him to wrap tone arms and legs around you like a warm blanket of flesh. He holds his phone up to your face, letting it unlock as he loads up his Instagram. Hunter was still somewhat connected to his University’s frat, so you had many options.

You make him lick your cheek seductively. You shuddered. “I wanna know what it feels like… To take one of my bros, to watch the betrayal in their eyes while I jam them full of our seed.” Immediately, Hunter wrestles back control, only managing to whimper. Inside him, you can feel your joint seed- the worms you initially used to infect him writhe and wriggle in pleasure.

You grab the phone, turning to the side as you continue to scroll through his Instagram. Meanwhile, you make Hunter touch himself, self-pleasuring until he reaches climax. You squirm in pleasure as he releases, feeling his body’s pleasure as an extension of yourself. His cum instantly solidifies. Instead of worms, your slithering offspring together expand in size, taking on a more snake-like appearance. You let one flow into your mouth, intending to let it settle in your body like a spring-loaded trap in case you needed a new puppet. You savor the flavor of the singular snake while forcing Hunter to swallow the rest of the serpents. Mmmmm. Tastes just like Hunter.

Hunter convulses as your offspring together reintegrate into his being. Without acknowledging his spasming form, you pull up one of the current members of his old frat.

“Jake. Junior. Sports Medicine. ATO… Looks like he has a personal training course. What do you think?” You ask the shaking Hunter. You see the veins on his temples enlarge in struggle and his face flush red.

“F-F…. Fuck Yeah”.

- - - - -

“Hey man. You sure you wanna do this in the forest?” Jake asked. So far, that only emotion you've seen come across his face is mild disinterest.

“Yeah…” you reply coolly through Hunter. God it turned you on just hearing his voice relay your thoughts. Hunter gagged internally. He stewed in disgust at feeling his own body act so naturally despite your impure intentions.

You can tell from Jake’s willingness to accommodate, you must have been one of his first clients. It was pretty clear why. Though popular, he wasn’t particularly charismatic. He’s posted at least one or two others- members of his own frat, but you wonder how many other actual clients he had. It was likely not much, considering how easy it was to convince him to agree to start the session the middle of the forest.

You readjusted in your seat, trying to hide your growing boner. Corrupting Hunter’s own secret spot into a trap laid out for Jake brought its own unique pleasure, but having to force his body to drive made it difficult to keep your own emotions at bay. You internally thank how little of your actual intention leaked. Hunter’s sincerity was one of his best traits, and you readily dispensed it at will, turning it into your own personal weapon.

Deeper and deeper, you drive Hunter to guide your party into the woods. Getting to the remote location felt even longer than before, perhaps due to your excitement. You look at your phone in glee as signal slowly dwindles. Eventually, your party stops at the water’s edge. You admire your handiwork as you look in satisfaction at the sheer stillness in Hunter’s Lake.

“Uh, so you’re actually already pretty built but we can still work on bulking you up.” His lips follow a flat smile, but his eyes betray his lack of interest. “You said you wanted to get jacked? What about your friend over there?” You smile a little at his nonchalance. It was almost cute seeing him try to secure another client. Oh Jake, I can’t wait to use that tight bod to get ourselves some more ‘clients’.

“My boyfriend”, you correct him through Hunter. “Is just here to watch... I l-like it when he watches”. You anticipate Jake’s reaction to this bizarre response, but the only change in his somewhat bored expression is a slight raise in his eyebrows. Hunter’s face is forced to mimic your sinister glee. Too easy.

“Sure bro, whatever floats your boat…” he relays back with a tone that feels like an eye roll. “Just saying, he could probably really benefit from this program.” Bored eyes survey your main body up and down. “I can make you strong, bro”. That brings a filthy smile to your face.

“You’re about to”, you moan.

Jake looks slightly confused for second, but his attention immediately focuses on Hunter’s approaching form, hands placed across his flesh, raking every piece of himself in pleasure.

“W-“ Jake is cut short as he is pushed several feet back into the lake water below. Amusement paints your face. Evidently, you underestimated the strength bound in Hunter’s body.

In more emotion than you’ve ever seen him have, the frat bro seizes at the sharp drop in temperature, yelping before he feels his heart drop and face turn pale. Slithering. All over him. He looks around in shock at a mass of serpents, coiling and writhing beneath the once-still water. You could tell he had a sixth sense for their unnatural nature. Too little too late.

Water splashes everywhere as Jake makes a beeline for shore. He chokes on the lake water a little and stumbles out but he does make it. Jake continues running inland despite being covered in snakes, hoping to flee into the forest. He slowly trudges to a halt, pinned upright as your snakes continue swirling around him.

True to Hunter’s name, you had booby-trapped the water during a previous visit, forcing his body to the brink as it deposited wave after wave of your joined semen. As soon as his seed left his warm flesh, it instantly solidified together, forming sizable serpents. Quite the upgrade from those worms.

Even now, you continue through Hunter, forcing him to pump his dick and blow out another load of your serpentine offspring. His eyes go glassy as they combine into larger forms. This time, they slither around Hunter’s flesh. His eyes fall on the helpless Jake, blinking once in sincere dread before you moan. As you do, his face twitches in discomfort until he is forced to moan as well, bringing a shaking hand back over his dick to pump out another load. And another still. Wave after tireless wave of snakes. Each wave adds to the one before, growing your snake larger and larger, until one several feet long is coiling itself around Hunter.

You were up to your fifth wave of offspring now. Jake is staring in horror, trying to escape the writhing clutches of your previous trap. Hunter’s body is past its limits. He’s slack-jawed, mouth agape and chest coated in waves of drool. He exudes a thick, pungent sheen of sweat. Your eyes lazily fall back on the personal trainer.

Jake too is drenched in sweat and struggle and slick with the hybrid cum of you and your previous hunt. He continues to look in fear at the barely conscious, tired beyond measure Hunter. Hunter is still reeling from what his body was just puppetted into doing. In this state, there’s no fight left in your “boyfriend’s” mind. He was only strung up into lucidity by the web of your cells in folds of his brain.

You will your own body unconscious, feeding the full stream of your thoughts into your hot neighbor. Despite the refinement in control, you still feel the slightest lag, slight delay in each movement. But with this new level of control, you feel blood rushing into his sore dick. His height alone was already a shift from your previous body. Longer, stronger limbs at your beckoning. You feel them brimming with power. Every sensation, every breath through his lungs felt grounding. Without Hunter inside wrestling for control, every movement felt more precise, every sense more vibrant. Hunter’s body resonates with your mind, feeling more like an extension of yourself. You strip yourself, taking your time to enjoy the new sensations.

You blink through Hunter’s tired eyes, boring his hazel irises into Jake’s, and smirk. “Don’t worry. You’re so big… I bet you can take all of us.” You drop to your knees, laying the large serpent into the ground.

You give Jake a show, starting to hump the air. With each thrust, your serpentine offspring begin to coil further and further around the whimpering Jake. “Please!” He screams. “What do you want? Money? I’ll give you anything, bro!” He shouts as he tries to shake off the snakes. “I-I don’t wanna die” he states in panic.

You walk up and lean Hunter’s face up to his cheek, your puppet’s warmth like a blanket over his body. You breathe out hot damp air through Hunter lungs. Jake slightly winces at your proximity. “You’re not gonna fucking die, bro”. You lick the side of his face. Salty. “Would be such a waste of that delectable bod”. You can feel Hunter’s consciousness begin to reemerge. He tries to wriggle back control, his disgust apparent. He’s revolted at what’s become of him. Once kind. Once normal. Now depraved. Now yours. You wield him with little care. With a cockiness and a cruelty that paid no respect to the man he once was. “Look at this fucking hunk. This puppet. This meatsuit.” You let your Hunter-bound dick gently graze Jack’s abdomen while moaning out through his deep voice. “Does he look dead to you?”

“No, You’re gonna live. And I’m gonna live. With you… In you. Through. You.” With that, you position Hunter out of the way as your largest offspring slithers its way into the convulsing Jake.

Jake starts hyperventilating as it inches closer and closer into his bound form. You ball your Hunter’s hand into a fist. The snakes already surrounding his flesh tighten even further. He gasps as the first cum-drenched serpent pokes at his ass. He looks back as you start to feed it in, shaking as he tries to control his pleasure when it rushes past his prostate.

With his mouth slightly open, you feed foot upon foot of yourself. He tries to retch, but that only gives more space for the snake to slip even further into him.

Once half of the large serpent is comfortably inside, you will the rest of the snakes up his asshole. Jake shudders, unable to fully vocalize his screams. He falls to the ground in a dull thud, convulsing while his body is forced to accommodate the extra mass of your offspring. You hear creaks and groans in his flesh, chest and stomach distended and writhing with your offspring.

Jake is reduced to soft squelching noises when the last of the large serpent slips in, sealing his fate. His shaking hands grip his neck as he tries to fight off the intrusion. He’s far too late, however. He thrashes in the ground, kicking dirt as two snakes slip between his muscle fibers. You entrench yourself into the man, willing more serpents into the folds of his extremities before making them burst back into Hunter-enhanced cum.

He whimpers, back arching in unnatural angles as you weave the largest serpent into the deepest parts of his body. He eventually quiets into stillness. Unable to move out of fear. It’s only for a moment, however. A splashing sound is heard from deep within his flesh as you explode the snake and coat most of his insides with your seed. You feel your cells begin to hijack his, merging and imposing you into his body.

You feel your main body stir to life, panting. Hunter’s naked body immediately drops to the ground, unconscious. Controlling these snakes seems to take a lot out of you. You look back at Jake. You still lack fine control of his body. This body is strong too. You feel his muscle fibers fight you, defying your commands through sheer force of will. You lick your lips, causing the sleeping Hunter to do the same. Manipulating both bodies felt like its own workout, especially when they resist. You instead focus more attention on your latest capture.

You wrap one snake around one of his vocal cords and bite. A strand of drool escapes slightly parted lips as his mouth moves with sluggish rigidity. With other bits of control. you clumsily force him to strip. Veins pop around his neck and his face contorts in pain. As you wrap another snake around more of his vocal cords, he relents his voice to you. “I can already tell this body’s a fuckin alpha.” God it felt good to puppet Jake. He twitches in struggle and then pats his abs. They don’t move at all from his hand but they ripple intensely with the writhing of the flesh you lodged inside him. His lips quiver but he is eventually forced to smile- and then a cocky flex. It feels entirely foreign coming out of him.

A few of your serpents slip into his balls, coiling and coating them with the mix of Hunter’s seed and your own. Hunter already had potency, but you could tell Jake was on another level. You wanted it. All of it. All of him. You inject yourself into every piece of his seed factory, and Jake seizes as he feels his future surrender to you. He feels a wrongness to his core, as you root into his very essence, his potential legacy. Jake sticks his tongue out in your delirious pleasure. He pulls up to your main body, grinding into you while smearing testosterone laden sweat all over your body. “That’s fuckin right. Get in me. All of it. This body- my baby batter’s yours. Inject us into my friends. My family…” He moans.

Another snake wedges into the folds of his brain before biting. A mix of your cum and Hunter’s floods his mind. Jake grips his head in pain as he’s forced to surrender every thought, feeling, dream he’s ever had. You move your offspring in sync to perfectly imitate Jake. He starts to strip, letting you witness the full glory of his drenched body. ”I’ve always wanted kids. Your kids- Our kids are gonna be so fucking strong. Daddy Jake will make them strong”. He taunts himself as he feels his own body up. “I’m fucking delicious”. With your increased focus, he’s a bit easier to handle. A bead of sweat falls on your main body. Still fucking hard to pilot. “Cmon bro, this all you got?” You make him say to himself. Jake blinks away tears, betrayed by his own flesh and muscle.

Suddenly, you see a tired Hunter wake, sickened to his core, but free. You instantly try to flex the pieces of yourself still embedded inside him but he resists. Your main body falls into sleep again to solidify your control over Jake’s body. The worn Hunter starts to scramble away before you rush him with Jake’s body, pinning him with your new strengthened biceps. Power. Hunter had good qualities, but Jake was a powerhouse. Raw, muscled power. He was brimming with it, body soaked in the stuff. And it was now yours. Jake’s face animates with your delight. “Oh Hunter…” you coo. “You’re a fighter, aren’t you? I don’t think you’re fighting your way out of this one,” You sake with Jake’s virile voice, opening your mouth so he can see a resolidified snake. It was larger this time, more menacing. You close Jake’s mouth again as his face is pulled into your smile.

“Here, have a taste”, you make him say, as you pull Hunter into a savage kiss. You fashion your new mouth into a wide smile regurgitating the newly thickened snake. Hunter chokes on your serpent, eyes rolling to the back of his head. The new offspring you’ve forced out of Jake and Hunter’s genetic material is mighty. Dominant. Hunter’s throat expands to allow the intrusion. He’s still weary from the past few days and newfound freedom, and you feel just one of these snakes are enough for full control. Permanent control. The enhanced piece of you begins dissolving and weaving itself into Hunter’s flesh. "You're mine". You hold him in place as he jolts, body twisting and contorting to try in vain to fight it. As his trembling slowly subsides, you watch in glee as his sullen face slowly rise to meet Jake’s eyes, growing smirk on his face mirroring yours.

Your control slowly wanes when your main body rises out of its sleep. You bring Hunter into a deep, wet kiss, before placing your attention back on Jake. Hunter’s flesh moves to your command, just like before, but this time, any resistance is tamped down by your new Jake-enhanced cum. You are still slightly out of breath from controlling his body, but with nowhere near the difficulty you had before.

The triple vision causes you to stagger, but you quickly get used to puppetting two bodies at once. This time, it was Jake’s turn to form a resistance. His body jerks as he tries to brute force command of his own body back. You wrestle it back, forcing a shaking hand to grab his dick and start pumping. You bring Hunter’s hand over, supporting. Your two hands are coarse, and your control over them is somewhat rough. Regardless, you quicken to a breakneck speed, barely leaving time for Jake’s body to gasp.

Jake’s dick releases in a torrent of cum. It coats Hunter’s body, but with your control, he doesn’t even flinch. Instead, he moans, scooping it into his hands and bringing it up to your Jake body’s mouth. You make your frat bro slurp the mixture own seed, Hunter, and yours. Jake’s fighting the urge to vomit, but to you it tastes divine. You make him swirl his tongue inside his mouth, corralling every last piece of it deeper inside.

Making Jake reinfect himself made all three of your bodies hard. Jake squirms in and out of control. He’s forced to grope his own muscles while he feels himself saturate with you, his own Adonis bod reduced into an avatar of your pleasure. He’s ready. You bring your newly infested puppet close. His deep chest heaves for you. Voice dripping with your perversion, “I’ll make you strong bro” you make Jake say in a corruption of his own catchphrase. “This is peak performance”. You can practically feel him fight with every fiber of his being. His bulging musculature spams. You drool with anticipation, pinning his body and yours to a tree with Hunter’s gyrating flash. ”Be one with me” you sing in Hunter’s voice. “O..On..with…. me“, you start to be able to reply back as Jake. “O-o-one…” His head shakes side to side, fighting you intrusion. You pinpoint your mind, like a hypodermic needle to his psyche. “One with me,” He gasps in ecstasy.

“You fuckin freak….” Jake’s face pulls in a deep smile as he moans. You already have him acting atypically, it borders on unnatural as his lips pull into a smile wider than he’s ever made in his life. He now faces your main body, face closer than you ever would have dared to have it before. “Sin in my body….” He winces in one last bit of resistance, a small tear pooling in his eye. “Let’s make my parent’s cry…” He leans down to you for a kiss, letting you taste every piece of him with your main body for the first time. Your eyes roll back in pleasure as he’s forced to suck out the snake you swallowed a few days ago. He gurgles a little before sending a Jake-imbued serpent, drenched in his testosterone and musk, down your throat. You make him pull back, looking at you with his signature bored expression, now tainted with your lust. “Own me”. His hand grabs yours, pulling it over his ass cheek and forcing a squeeze. “From now on… I am yours”

- - - - -

It took a few hours to make your way back but you finally manage. This time, Jake drove back. Drawing on the sleeping Hunter's knowledge. His car and the route back are second nature.

Jake places a hand on your inner thigh and smiles. Before long, your back in town and you send the aspiring personal trainer on his way.

You lay back in bed, curling up to your Hunter body. He still reeks but you can’t wait to start concocting your own concentrated Jake-flavored scent. You sigh contentedly, satisfied with your newest acquisition.

Doesn’t hurt to have a little test drive.

Your two bodies peacefully lull into slumber as you flood the full force of your consciousness into Jake’s body. His face flashes in a split-second resistance before settling back. You fit the shape of your psyche to match his brain, slowly sliding into a deepened control. He has been carrying on as normal, so when you open his eyes as your own for the first time and gasp you first Jake-breath, you immediately adapt to his nonchalance. You survey your new surroundings.

He’s at the school gym, with what looks like one of his ATO brothers. It’s quite empty, probably due to how late it was. You pull one of his half-smiles. You couldn’t believe your luck at the fine man before you. You extract information from Jake’s mind.

A model, at least part time. Smart. Charismatic. “He’s cute, too,” You taunt Jake. “Thanks for the bro, bro”.

One of the snakes you have in his body coils in excitement, but you will it to be still. Might as well finish his routine. You can’t help but push Jake’s body past its limit as you barrel your way through his sets.

You had a glimpse of his raw power previously, but it paled in comparison to this. As you smash through set after set in his body, you feel deeply in tune with Jake. His heart pumps mightly. Your cells already course through his bloodstream, so the action squeezes you into him further and only solidifies your bond together. His lungs are like engines, you’ve never felt so much energy inside you. You want to keep the charade of his normal personality up, but you can’t help but giggle. So good. So fucking good.

Hunter was dependable, and it felt amazing fully wearing his mind, but Jake was another beast entirely. You feel drunk in his body, in his vitality, in feeling his muscles conform to your thoughts. Your two bodies in Hunter’s apartment start squirming, leaking a bit of precum. Your mind is twisted and slotted into every piece of Jake's. His inner self winces as your very being, very sense of self leeches out of every crevice in his, neurons force-fed your commands. Your Jake-flavored thoughts course through his body, the perfect housing to your newly added self. This was truly being Jake. Wearing him in all senses but physical. And being Jake is a fuckin party.

It wasn’t just sensation. Thoughts themselves felt euphoric. Through his eyes, the world seems just a bit brighter. His mouth is intimately aware of the flavor of his own saliva. And his nose... you take a deep whiff of the perspiration caking his armpits, drenched in his musk. Divine. A moan escapes your mouth, prompting a quick turn from Dylan. God, we even sound good when we moan together. Jake’s face immediately reverts to its normal, dull demeanor. You raise your eyebrows slightly, just like Jake does, as you catch his eyeline, arousing no suspicion. Dylan promptly returns to his exercises, unaware of the danger wearing his best friend. You put Jake in the forefront, only for a moment, relishing in his sense of freedom before immediately straddling his psyche. You ride it as he is forced to bring trembling fingers up to his nipples. You give them a good rub. Oh my god. Another moan, but Dylan ignores it this time. That gets the two of you even harder.

You continue to straddle Jake’s inner sense of self as you work through his last set. It felt good to have him around, to witness how much more powerful he was when you were puppetting his bod. “We’re so fucking strong together,” you grunt in a proud aggression. Jake’s emotions felt far more raw than Hunter’s so it was difficult reining them in.

Large dumbbells fall to the ground in a loud thunk. Jake’s body- your body is spent. His flesh cries in pain and soreness, but even that felt amazing through his bod. You are intimately aware of his tired flesh. It’s tender, but not for long. You feel the fibers of his being, coated in your conjoined seed getting buried in the folds of his growing muscles. Like all bodies after a workout, his body courses with growth hormones. Mass. His flesh condenses, builds itself stronger, unwillingly with you inlaid deep within them. You whimper in ecstacy. This is yours. He is yours. All yours. Irreversibly yours.

You roar, proud of Jake, of the new branch of your being. You will his tired form upright. He drools as his body whines in soreness. You lap it up, his face filling with determination as you prepare for your next hunt.

Your body is soaked, oozing with Jake’s sweat and scent. You pay no mind as you slowly walk towards Dylan, who had just finished his last set. You can barely mask your excitement through Jake’s normal demeanor. God you look even better up close. Your muscled hand reaches out, offering to pull him up. You ‘accidentally’ pull him too hard and into your awaiting hug. You laugh it off but you can tell that emotion alone was already offputting to Dylan. Fuck it, let’s be one already.

You waste no time, wrapping Dylan with your larger frame. Your ATO bro flails, trying to escape your clutches. He's far too weak to resist, post-workout. Instead you pull his head, up to your nose for a quick whiff of your future scent. Your eyelids flutter a little. He smells fancy.

You tug on Jake’s memories, “Bro, it was so fun getting to know you this semester. Gets me so hard just thinking about that tight little ass of yours.” You start grinding Jake’s body into Dylan. Letting him feel Jake’s hard on.

Dylan is stammering, clearly worried at the hybrid personality of Jake and your perversion. This person in front of him is Jake. It’s undeniably Jake, but it feels so wrong. Your muscled hand grips his chin, turning it from one side to another. “We’re gonna be more than bros, Dylan.” That causes him to struggle more. “You got the cutest face in ATO. Can’t fucking wait to wear it. Ready to be one?”

Dylan starts tossing himself around, as he sees the large snake slowly rising from Jake’s smile. You use your newfound muscle man to keep him steady. Another perk of being entrenched in Jake’s body. You waste no time, forcing Dylan to gorge himself on you, Jake and Hunter’s hybrid seed.

He makes gurgling noises as you coil and worm into your new bod, and the last sight he sees is Jake pleading “sorry”. Dylan’s shaking stops, arms hanging lifelessly. Jake is still whimpering his sorrys as you brute force your bond into Dylan. It’s normally an arduous process, but being betrayed by his best friend turns his corruption into quick work. His mind succumbs to you easily, still in shock.

Jake is still sobbing “sorry” as he holds you upright. Your eyes slowly blink open, looking to Jake in confusion at first. He opens his mouth, wanting to ask if you were still you but you abruptly use your new body to pull him into a kiss. You force Jake to reciprocate, giving him a forbidden taste of his best bro’s essence.

“No need to be sorry bro,” you moan. “Actually... thank you, Jake. Thank you for stuffing this tight bod with his flesh.” You start to mock Jake by wearing your new body’s sincerity as you continue. “I’ve always wanted to be turned into a meat puppet. This was my deepest desire”. You hum.

Wearing Dylan was equally arousing and you feel Jake squirm in disgust at feeling his best friend’s growing hard on. You start to dance in Dylan’s tight bod, shaking more of your cells deeper in the process. “I’ve always wanted to be slut. And for my best, most trusted bro to be the one to infect me!” You cackle. “You feel him, don’t you?” You moan. “You can tell there’s no going back…” Jake starts to shake as you resume control, this time dispersing your mind across both bodies.

You pull back Jake to the forefront of his own mind, again strapping him to your own thoughts so he can fully watch and experience himself defile his best friend’s body. Jake’s body returns a hedonistic sneer. “Hell yeah brother…” You slam Dylan to the gym floor and begin stripping both frat men. “We can take the rest of ATO-“ both bodies briefly moan at the thought of corrupting their own brothers. “But, gratitude, bro. Lemme taste you first. Gonna stuff you so full of my cum, you’ll always have a piece of Jake inside of you,” You chuckle. “Well, more what's already there”.

= = = = =

Phew, another long one. But when have they ever not been long?

#malepossession #male puppet #male corruption #male body control #male takeover #male mind control

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xazse · 10 days ago

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Hiiii!! ｡⁠◕⁠‿⁠◕⁠｡

I just wanna see say that first of all that I LOVE UR works! I literally SCREAM when I see ur works they're so good!!!! 🫶🫶🫶

Anyways I wanna share my thoughts with you if that's fine (⁠◠⁠‿⁠・⁠)⁠—⁠☆

I just watched a cute cat video with a tom cat meeting his kittens for the first time and I just thought what if it was Tiger hybrid!Sukuna meeting his cub, Yuji! (With a tiger hybrid reader too)

At first he'd be like growling and looking annoyed at the sight of Yuji cause I heard that's how usually male tigers respond to their offsprings (and they usually don't help raise or look after cubs), maybe pushing him away too (but not enough to hurt cause he somewhat cares kinda). But over time he starts getting attached to little cub, mainly cause reader forces Tiger hybrid!Sukuna to spend time with their cub. And he'd act annoyed but deep down he actually bonds with the little cub, ah its so cute!

(btw not forcing u to write or anything just sharing my recent hyper fixations (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡)

No the Peakness in this needs to be studied, sorry I haven’t been uploading I’ve been in a block so I hope y’all enjoy this! Thanks for leaving the request!!! Just something sweet and short to tide you lovelies over. PLUS THANK YOU FOR THE COMPLIMENTS SO SWEET!!

Warnings: Tigerhybrid!Sukuna + TigerHybrid!Yuji + Tigerhybrid!Reader + baby!yuji + big ol tiger family + not proofread

“Kuna stop it!”

“You’re scaring him with your loud growling, stop it.”

“He isn’t scared stop overthinking it, plus I’ve already told you I don’t want em near me.”

For such a huge scary Tiger like Sukuna he sure was giving off childish energy right now. Everytime little Yuji crawls to get close he’s pushed back right where he started. He doesn’t even seem to care that he’s growling and clearly not happy.

He��s so distracted and infatuated with Sukunas tail that flows back and forth, greedy little eyes looking for something to bite probably.

“I wish you’d stop treating him like a stranger he’s our baby.” You cross your arms and go to pick up Yuji, he eagerly has his chubby little arms out for you to coddle him, how can Sukuna just not find him so adoreable?

A loud huff of air comes out of him his tail whisking angrily behind him, you see the glint of sweet in his pupils it’s just a facade he needs help getting over.

And getting over it will happen.

It starts with baby steps at first, you pretending to need to make Yuji a bottle before he gets fussy, so you quickly plop him in Sukunas lap, he has no time to process or tell you to get him. He has no choice but to let Yuji curiously grab all over his face.

Sukuna thinks Yuji is too soft to be his, he should at least have a backbone at his age but he mainly blames you, you’re far too kind for someone of his own species, Tigers are meant to be fierce but he isn’t getting a hint of that from either of you.

Sukuna is holding Yuji awkwardly, arms outstretched and holding him in the air away from his body. The cutie is babbling and giggling about nonsense. Sukuna pulls him in a little bit closer and he immediately starts sucking on his cheek, encasing the whole thing, Sukuna is quick to act disgusted and pull him away.

You come shortly back with the bottle and also plop it down in his lap.

“No”

“Yes.”

“Kuna, please I’m extremely tired and need a quick break.”

You flash him your sweetest eyes and even pull your fluffy ears backwards, you really strike his heart everytime you do that so he grumbly obliges to watch Yuji.

Whilst you’re in the room he begins feeding Yuji, everytime he so much as rests his arm Yuji is whining for the bottle.

“Can’t even move an inch can I?” He straightens up and fixes himself. Sukuna can’t help but poke at his little inflated cheeks, filled with warm milk he looks so content gobbling it up.

He really looks like him even has the same patterned tail and tiny fluffy ears.

When he finishes the bottle he isn’t sure what to do besides letting Yuji relax on his chest and watch something, the baby Tiger is slowly drifting off his soft coos slowly fading.

This is okay just for a little, only until you rest up, he won’t have his wife walking around tired then he’ll throw the brat back in your lap.

But that doesn’t happen, it’s becoming an everyday thing where he feeds Yuji then they both drift off on the couch, it’s like this over and over.

Sukuna finds himself searching for Yuji in your arms then taking him to do the most random tasks with him laid awkwardly on his side. He still doesn’t know how to hold his own son properly but you’re so ecstatic.

You catch Sukuna helping Yuji build his building blocks up, then when Yuji knocks them down and is about to cry he’ll quickly build the tower back up in reassurance. You can see his tail swirl around when Yuji looks up to his daddy to help him.

On nights where Yuji is crying out for you, you’d usually get up to go comfort him but it’s Sukuna who jumps up faster than you to go tend to him. The room goes quiet within 10 minutes.

Sukuna won’t say it out loud but baby Yuji is starting to grow on him!!<33

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amsznn · 4 months ago

Note

can you do one with dad matt?

him and the reader have a potty training toddler who walks around with a naked bottom half for easier access to the potty 😭 .

the kid has to tell the reader or matt when they need to use the potty so they can take them and theres a lot of accidents and stuff and its really cute

ACCIDENTS - m. sturniolo

it was a regular sunday evening for you and matt. at least, it’s your regular. typically if it was two years ago you and matt would be cuddled up on his bed enjoying the sweet silence and each other’s company.

well those times have changed. especially with your new edition to your family. your baby girl, aria, brought a whole new world to you and matt’s life. bringing joy and sometimes destruction.

and as of right now? she’s bringing destruction.

all you were trying to do was relax a bit on the couch. no matter what anyone says, parenting was not easy. especially not chasing around a toddler that refuses to use the bathroom.

“aria, baby, i need you to go potty.” you try and plead with the stubborn two year old. but she only pouts and turns her back on you letting out a stern, “no!” before running off again.

you heavily sighed before walking towards your daughter. swiftly picking her up, you removed the diapers that were on her. she needed to learn how to use the bathroom on her own eventually. you set your baby down, now bottomless, watching as she ran towards her dads room.

aria bursted into matt’s room as you followed behind, plopping down on the bed. “dada!” your girl’s sweet voice rang through the room before she collided with matt’s leg as he was seated on his desk chair.

“hey my beautiful girl, where are your diapers?” matt questioned softly before holding her up by her armpits. aria only pointed at you that was nearly passed put on the bed from exhaustion.

“she didn’t wanna potty.” was all you mumbled before dozing off. matt could only chuckle but somewhat felt bad since youve been battling with the girl to potty on her own for weeks now.

matt rose up from his seat and carried his daughter to the bathroom before stopping infront of her potty that was next to the big toilet. he sat her down and she only looked at him in confusion.

“sweetheart, if you go potty ill give you ice cream, okay?” maybe bribery wasnt the best parenting technique, but hey, you seemed desperate and worn out so if this could work maybe it could help you. at least thats what matt thought.

“okay, dada!”

matt smiled and nodded before walking out towards the door, making sure to leave it open just in case. “i’ll be right here sweetheart.”

a couple of minutes had passed before matt heard aria yell out, “done!” matt smiled to himself before yelling back. “did you wipe?” the girl answered back with a yes and matt walked into the bathroom.

lets just say..

she did go potty,

she just missed.

the potty.

after cleaning up both the bathroom and his daughter, matt made sure to put a diaper back on aria to avoid the same outcome. by the time he was done you had already woken up to see both your husband and your daughter eating ice cream on the kitchen island.

“guess what?” matt said as he saw your figure emerged from the room. “i went potty, mommy!” your baby proudly said with a mouth filled with ice cream. you couldn’t help but smile and give her a bunch of kisses on her chubby cheeks that you loved.

you also gave matt a bunch of kisses as well as one on his lips, as a thank you.

“i can’t believe you did it.” you said in disbelief as you also grabbed a bowl for ice cream.

“yeah well, there were some accidents.” both your husband and your daughter started giggling like a secret was shared but just for the two of them. you only shrugged, just happy about this milestone.

a/n: ugh this was so cute chat i love dad matt

#matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo angst #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo x reader #dad matt sturniolo #matt x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo x you #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fluff

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catch1ngmoths · 6 months ago

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🫧𓇼*ੈTIME AFTER TIME✩‧₊˚🎐

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ “If your lost, you can look, and you will find me..time after time. If you fall I will catch you, I’ll be waiting…time after time” -Cyndi Lauper 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋

Summary: after a one night stand with Joost you both can’t seem to get each other out of y’all’s heads. You were always on his mind since then and you couldn’t stop thinking about the blond boy with the cute accent… until your paths cross once more. This time Joost won’t walk away

Note: (all credit for the edit above goes to MCRBATS on TikTok!!) this is a part two for “only stay with you one more night” ITS FINALLY OUT GUYSSS!! I beg for more requests because yall give me the most scrumptious ideas for fics ever!! Also, this is kinda bad so please don’t jump me!!!

Warnings: SUGGESTIVE, Talk of past sexual relations, mostly fluff!

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It had been months, you hadn’t seen Joost since that night that left you both achey in a good and bad way. You’d pondered on your thoughts and feelings towards the blondie and you mentally scolded yourself for thinking he’d come back for you. It obviously meant nothing to him, he probably sleeps with people left and right. You were no different to all the others in his mind.

But you were. Joost couldn’t get your name out his mind. Couldn’t get your pretty face and voice out of his mind. He kept thinking about the way you said moaned his name and how soft your hands were against his rough ones. He wanted to go back in time and make himself bite the curb for leaving your apartment that early morning.

You were so so so much different. Sure, this one night stand wasn’t his first rodeo but the way he looked at you was. The way he felt towards you was, he didn’t know why. He really didn’t. He’d only fully been around you for around 5 hours but those moments gave him a feeling he’d never felt before. He felt so much love, care, and warmth towards your personal being and just wanted to protect you from everything.

He’d ruined it though, we walked through and out your front door that morning. He felt cold as soon as he did but there was no going back now. He had in his signature white earbuds in while he looked out the window of the Uber that was taking him home, his mind still on you. And just like that, that was the last time he’d seen your beautiful face and your addicting scent.

The sound of his friend, apson calling his name pulled him out of his trance. He was setting up for his concert in a few hours, when he was preforming it was the only time he could get you off his mind…well somewhat at least. He went over and helped out apson and the rest of his crew and friends. Helping them set everything up and getting everything done for tonight.

You on the other hand were at your friend, Alexis’s house just hanging out when she interrupted you while you were talking. Her eyes were wide like she’d just remembered something and her movements were one of excitement, taking you aback. “Oh my god!! Sorry to interrupt you but I totally forgot about something, so Mia, Rayo, and Lacey are coming over later and we’re all going to a musicians concert Mia likes!!”

You stare at her with a smile and sarcasm laced in your voice, “now why the hell would you wanna interrupt my story to tell me about that?” You say with a chuckle, “beaacauseee…I want you to come with! It’ll be fun and I know the others would love to have you there too!” You furrow your eyebrows, this reminded you of that night where they all begged you to come out to that club with them where you met that boy you haven’t been able to get your mind off of.

You take a deep sigh, “Lex you know how I feel about things like that.” You reply but Alexis isn’t ready to back down just yet, “no I know but this concert will be different, it’s not as big as mainstream concerts and Mia said it’ll be fun!!” Alexis says looking at you with those puppy eyes and pouting in a sarcastic way.

You groan and just like you did that night months ago you agree. Around an hour later the rest of your friends show up a to get ready. You hang with Rayo fixing your makeup before looking over to him, “who are we even seeing anyways?” You ask him curiously, “man I don’t remember, I just remember Mia putting on his music and showing me a picture of him. Good looking guy and his music isn’t bad whatsoever…soo” Rayo replies with a smile

‘Whatever..’ you think, ‘at least this will be something to get me out the house and doing something.’ You sigh as your friends squeal and run to the car, excited to go. You laugh at their childishness and run after them. It takes around 20 minutes to arrive and the whole time your driving you feel this sensation in your chest, you can’t stop thinking about Joost…he was always on your mind don’t get me wrong but something about this was just different.

Joost was backstage, talking with his friends and trying to calm his excitement for the concert. But something about this felt oddly familiar, he’d never felt this before any concert. His mind now fully immersed and focused on you, he shakes his head as apson calls him over. Trying to shake the thought of you out his mind, as he gets up from where he was sat to walk to apson.

“Het concert begint zo, zijn jullie er klaar voor?” (The concerts gonna start soon, are you ready?) Apson says to Joost, clapping his hand on his shoulder with a smile. Joost takes a breath and smiles at apson, “Ja, ben je er klaar voor? Heb je nog ergens hulp bij nodig?” (Yeah, are you ready? Do you need help with anything else?) Joost replies, nudging apson with his shoulder, this makes apson clasp his hands together. “Ah, Ja, dat ben ik helemaal vergeten. Kom met me mee” (ah, yes, I completely forgot. Come with me..) apson says as the two men walk to set one last thing up.

You and your friends finally arrived to the concert. You all scooted to the front, people being nice enough to let y’all shuffle through. You and your friends talked before music played out making everyone around you, plus your friends scream with excitement. A guy runs out on stage, dressed in a while collared shirt with a black tie and black pants.

He has…short, messy, blond hair.. the same hair Joost had. No way, that wouldn’t be him- that was what you thought before he turned to face the crowd. Those features. Holy shit. It was him. He spoke into the microphone and you immediately knew from the sound of that pretty accent. It was Joost, the boy you couldn’t get out of your head.

Your mind races and you can’t decide if you should be excited or mortified that he’s standing right in front of you. On one hand, this is the boy you’ve wanted to be reunited with for months. On the other hand, it’s embarrassing to face him now. You secretly hope he’ll see you and you’re also hoping he won’t.

He sings his song, “offline” as he looks at the crowd before he sees it. He thinks he’s imagining things, you’ve been a constant in his head for months but there’s no way you’re here right now. No way you’re looking up at him with the same shocked expression that his face definitely has. His voice slightly shakes but he keeps on singing. He’s imagining shit, god he needs to get it together

But it wasn’t his imagination. You were there, for the rest of the concert you and Joost made continuous eye contact. And after the concert was done and Joost was backstage he was his wracking his brain for any way he could catch you. He couldn’t let you leave again, he just got given a second chance and he wasn’t about to give it up.

You were thinking the same things, you were alone in your mind the whole concert. You were thinking and planing about what to do after this, once the concert was done and everyone was leaving. You panicked, “u-um you guys can leave without me, I can get an Uber back home! I need to do something..! I’ll text you when I get home safe!” You say

You knew they wouldn’t let you so you run away before they can protest against your words. You look around, after your far enough away. You second guess yourself once your by yourself. Your heart is racing but your thoughts won. What if he didn’t wanna see you? What is he forgot about you and everything about that night.? You shake your head and realize what you’re doing, your friends probably haven’t gotten far.

Before you can run back to your friends you hear heavy footsteps, you turn around frantically. And you finally see Joost turning the corner to the hallway to where you were. He turns his head when you both lock eyes, both of you freezing. You stared at each other, breathing heavily and hearts racing.

“J-Joost..?” You stutter out, your voice weak and body stiff. He immediately breaks out of his trace at the sound of that voice that he’d missed so much. He runs towards you and embraces you, it was strange…it really was. This amount of affection for someone you hadn’t seen a few months and only spend one night together.

But it felt like you both were intertwined, sewn together in some way (Adrianne Lenker mentioned?!) He smiles, picking you up and spinning you around. “Holy shit it’s really you, fuck I’m so sorry. I regretted leaving as soon as I closed your door. I’m sorry if I made you feel used or unimportant, your not and i-“ he’s put off my a soft kiss being pressed to his lips

You grab his face as his hands pull your waist to be flush against his hips. Both of you are out of breath, pressing messy and rough kisses to each others lips. You moan softly on his lips and joost took his opportunity to slip his tounge into your mouth. Nothing but love shown in the kisses as he presses you up against the wall behind you, towering over you as you finally pull away.

“I’m not letting you go again, I hope you’re aware of that..” he says with his signature smile and you giggle before responding, “I wouldn’t have it any other way..” you say before he lowers his head, catching your lips in his once more

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ “ Wanna listen to the sound of you blinking, wanna listen to your hands soothe. Listen to your heart beating, listen to the way you move” - Adrianne lenker 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋

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TAGLIST: @timewillpasssoon @poppymelonz @pickle-juice-and-vodka @imsiriuslyreal

#joost x fem reader #joost x male reader #joost klein x you #joost klein x reader #joost x reader #joost klein #justice for joost

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lemoncrushh · 6 months ago

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break up with your girlfriend, i'm bored

short lil summary: after that one night with harry, you can't stop thinking about him...but things don't exactly turn out like you'd hoped.

warnings: smut (multiple positions, multiple orgasms), angst, oral (f receiving), dirty talk - 18+ ONLY!!

word count: 8k+

a/n: this is part 2 of bad idea. read that first.

(obviously both are somewhat inspired by ariana grande songs)

You heard your phone ringing as you stepped out of the shower. Knowing better than to hurry and risk falling on the bathroom floor, you listened for another ring, but none came. Quickly drying off with a towel, you wondered if it was Harry.

The two of you had been texting for the last few days. While he’d continued with his audacious flirting, he hadn’t made another move to see you again until last night.

Wanna grab a coffee or something tomorrow? he’d texted.

Not wanting to sound too eager, you’d said you had tentative plans with a friend - which wasn’t a full lie since Deliah had texted you and asked to get together - so you should play it by ear.

Stepping into your bedroom, you grabbed your phone from your bed. Your lips twitched into a grin when you saw his name.

Harry. Harry, Harry, Harry. Thoughts of him had been invading your mind since you’d left his apartment that morning. That morning after the most incredible sex you’d ever had. He’d ordered you an Uber, and offered you breakfast which you’d declined. While he’d been sweet, promising to text you, you’d made sure to keep things casual - especially after seeing that text from Melanie on his phone.

Maybe she was his girlfriend. He’d guessed correctly that you didn’t have a boyfriend, but he never divulged his own relationship status. And if he was anything like his brother, he may have a handful of women he was fucking. Not that you blamed him. He was a sexy guy, and despite falling under his spell for one drunken, sex-charged night, you were still his brother’s ex and knew it was best not to get too attached.

One thing you admitted to yourself at least, was that you enjoyed his flirty little texts and the way they made you giggle like a schoolgirl. But you would never say this to your friends. You hadn’t heard from Marcie at all since that night, and Deliah, ever the kind and gentle soul, merely asked if you got home okay and if you had a hangover, saying you two should make dinner plans. Obviously both of your friends knew you’d slept with your ex’s brother. But for now, it had yet to be a topic of conversation.

“Hey, it’s Harry,” he said in the voicemail he’d just left. “Was wondering if you were free. I was just about to head to the coffee shop. Let me know.”

Since you hadn’t heard decisive plans from Deliah about that dinner yet, you tapped the phone to call Harry back.

“Hi, which coffee shop?”

You could see him through the cafe window before you even made it to the door. He sat in a corner booth at the front, another cap backwards on his head. He smiled and waved when he saw you coming, and it immediately sent a warm feeling through your veins.

“Hi,” you said when you approached him, and he rose from the booth, surprising you with a kiss on the cheek.

“You look lovely,” he commented, his palm running down your back and lingering just above your waist. “I haven’t ordered yet. Thought I’d wait for you.”

“Oh, that’s sweet, but you didn’t have to.”

Harry shrugged. “I wanted to.”

With a grin, you walked with Harry to the counter to place your coffee order. When he told the barista it was together and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, you didn’t argue. Joining him at the table again, you asked Harry how his day had been.

“Pretty good,” he replied. “Had another interview this morning.”

“How did that go?”

“Went well, I think. It’s hard to tell sometimes.”

“I know,” you nodded. “Good luck, though.”

“Thanks.”

You both continued to make small talk for a bit until the barista called out his name. You watched Harry slide out of the booth to pick your coffees up at the counter. Selfishly, you stared at his back, his broad shoulders, hoping he was planning to stay in the states instead of returning to London. Shaking your head, you cursed yourself for having such thoughts. He was not yours to claim. Some good dick and a cup of coffee did not mean anything more.

Returning to the table, he set your cup in front of you. Then Harry’s smile spread across his face before he reached for his phone. “Found something today as well,” he said sheepishly.

“Oh?”

Tapping on his cell, Harry chuckled before turning it towards you. Your face fell when you recognized the image. It was your senior photo from high school.

“Is that you?” he asked.

With a sigh, you nodded, wanting to make yourself small and melt into the vinyl of the seat. “Yeah.”

“I told you I thought you looked familiar,” he smirked. “You went to my high school.”

“Where did you find that?” you asked him with a grimace.

“Your instagram.”

“Shit,” you muttered, throwing your hand over your face. You’d forgotten you had an account. You’d abandoned it after you and David had broken up.

Fuck! David!

“I hope you don’t mind that I looked you up,” Harry continued.

Pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, you shook your head, wanting to vomit. “I guess you know who I am, then.”

“From school, yeah. Oh, you mean that you dated my brother?”

“Yes,” you groaned, shielding your eyes from him as you looked down at your untouched coffee.

“Honestly? I don’t care much about that.”

Lifting your head, you stared at him in shock. “What?”

Harry shrugged. “David’s dated a lot of girls. I could barely keep track even before I left for London. I was bound to run into one of them sooner or later.”

Making a face, you sat back. “Not sure how I feel about that.”

Harry chuckled. “I didn’t mean to imply you’re just another chick, sweetheart. You’re anything but that, if I’m being honest. It just doesn’t matter to me that you dated my brother, that’s all. I like you. We had a good time, yeah?”

Color rose to your face as your body relaxed. “Yes.”

“Good.” Harry gazed back at the photo on his phone. “You were really cute, too. I would’ve asked you out if I hadn’t been a dorky freshman.”

A cackle escaped your lips as you looked away, turning back only to find a gorgeous, sexy grin on Harry’s face.

“You’re definitely not dorky now, Harry,” you commented.

“Well, that’s a relief.”

The moment was silent as you looked at him and blinked. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I guess I…was afraid it would spoil everything. I was enjoying spending time with you.”

“‘s alright. I enjoyed it too.”

Finally taking a sip of your latte, you looked up at him. “So where does that leave us?”

“Exactly where we were. I asked you here because I wanted to see you again.”

“And?” you tilted your head, hoping he had more to add.

“And…I was hoping we could get together again soon. Like this weekend.”

“Alright,” you said nonchalantly, lifting your cup to your lips.

Harry snickered. “Just alright? Did you have other plans?”

“Well, I might, Harry. It’s kind of late notice, and you don’t know me that well.”

He threw his head back laughing, and you couldn’t help but be pleased. You liked his laugh. A little too much. When he looked at you again, his eyes were dancing with glee. You took that as a good sign. Then he leaned forward, his arms crossed on the table.

“Tell you what, sweetheart. You let me know what time you’re free - either Friday or Saturday evening. And I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

Pursing your lips, you grabbed your own phone from your bag and pretended to be looking at a calendar.

“Hmm, you’re in luck, Harry. I happen to be free both evenings,” you teased.

“That is lucky,” he agreed. “Let’s not play it by ear this time though, hmm? I wanna set a date.”

“Oh. So it’s a real date this time?” you quipped.

“What do you think this is?” Harry raised a brow, acting offended.

You chuckled. “A coffee date.”

“Ah!” Harry lifted a finger in the air. “But it is a date.”

Pulling your lips to the side, you rolled your eyes. “More like a coffee…meet up.”

“Don’t change the terms now, love, that’s not fair.”

You laughed out loud, enjoying the banter. “Alright, Harry. You can pick the night. You’re so stubborn, and if you weren’t so fucking cute I’d tell you just forget it.”

Harry slapped his hand to his chest. “Honey, that hurt.”

“No it didn’t,” you jested, trying not to show how affected you were by him calling you honey. “Drink your coffee.”

His dimples deepened as he lifted his cup. “Friday, okay?” he winked before taking a sip.

“Okay. Where are we going?”

“I have a friend whose band is playing. Would you like to go?”

“Sure.” Though you’d just done the bar thing the weekend before, Harry was just out of college and was probably still part of that whole scene. And it was his friend, so you didn’t have the heart to say no.

“Great,” Harry beamed. “I’ll pick you up around eight.”

You nodded again, taking another sip of coffee.

The rest of the coffee date was more flirting and teasing, some idle chit chat. Before your goodbyes, Harry was sweet to walk you out to your car, giving you a gentle, yet sensual kiss. And though it had been on the edge of your mind all evening, you didn’t bring up the Melanie text. You told yourself it was none of your business, but in all honesty, you didn’t wanna know the truth.

“You’re seeing him again?” asked Deliah as she dug her fork into her salad. You’d finally managed to get together for dinner the next evening. And for the first time since Saturday night, Harry’s name was brought up when she asked about your weekend plans.

“Tomorrow. And I saw him yesterday for a coffee date.”

“So it’s getting serious already?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “It’s not serious, Deliah. It’s just fun.”

“Oh. Do you like him?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t have slept with him if I didn’t.”

“You know what I mean…” Deliah tilted her head and eyed you.

Shrugging, you reached for your water glass. “If you’re asking about feelings, Deliah, it’s way too soon for that.”

“I don’t know. I fell for Shane on our first date.”

“That’s because you’re special,” you winked.

Your friend smiled as she set down her fork and wiped her hands on her napkin. “Marcie’s still mad at you, you know.”

“I figured as much,” you commented. “She hasn’t replied to any of my texts.”

“She thinks you’re just trying to get back at David.”

“Who gives a shit about David?” you exclaimed. “I’m so over him.”

“Well, she thinks you’re not, and she’s afraid you’ll fall for Harry because he looks like him.”

Sitting back in your chair, you scowled, crossing your arms over your chest. “He doesn’t, actually. Sure, he resembles him a little because he’s his brother, but they are nothing alike.”

“I believe you, Y/N,” Deliah held up her hands. “I’m only repeating what Marcie told me.”

With a huff, you grabbed your water again and gulped it down. “I thought friends were supposed to support each other,” you added. “Not bring each other down.”

“I support you! I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yes, you are,” you sighed. Then giving a smile, you picked up your fork. “Besides, I’m not in love with the guy. He’s just really hot and good in bed. Like I said, I’m just having fun, okay?”

“Okay,” Deliah nodded.

“So what’ll it be tonight, love?” asked Harry as you took a seat at a high top table near the stage, his hand on the small of your back. “Tequila shots again?”

“Only if you want,” you grinned up at him.

“No problem.” He lowered his mouth to yours for a soft, tiny kiss before making his way to the bar.

Setting your clutch on the table in front of you, you smiled to yourself. Harry had already kissed you a handful of times tonight, starting with the big, wet one he’d laid on you as soon as you’d opened your door. He’d stood there hatless for the first time since you’d met, his usual fratboy attire absent, or at least most of it. He still wore jeans and a button down, but this one was soft and silky, black with a small stitching design. On his feet he wore black boots, and he smelled like heaven.

“Fuck me, you look amazing!” he’d exclaimed, taking the words out of your mouth.

And before you could respond, he’d slipped his hands around your waist and covered your lips with his. It had taken you a few seconds to come down from that kiss before you’d had a chance to return the compliment, only to have him press another one on your mouth next to his car.

The way he kept stealing glances at you during the drive to the bar also confirmed you’d made the right choice in your dress this evening, and you knew without a doubt that an encore of the weekend before was imminent.

The bar was crowded as you gazed around and saw Harry returning, balancing the shots in one hand and two beer necks in the other. You giggled as you rose from your seat.

“Here, let me help you,” you offered, reaching for the shots.

“No, you take these,” he insisted, dodging the people around him.

Grabbing the beers, you returned to the table.

“I’ll be right back, I forgot the limes,” explained Harry.

“Harry, it’s fine,” you chuckled, grasping his arm.

“You sure?”

“Yes. It’s too crowded over there. I don’t need them if you don’t.”

“Not really,” he smirked.

Patting the chair next to you, you urged him to sit. He obliged, lifting one of his shot glasses.

“To you, sweetheart,” he announced.

“Me?”

“Yeah. For looking so goddamn sexy; I may have to cut out of here early or take you right here on this table.”

“Shut up,” you cackled, playfully pinching his thigh.

“Shit, don’t do that either, love, c’mon,” he hissed, grabbing your wrist.

“Harry…”

“I’m serious, babe. You turn me on so much.”

“Well…” you sighed, lifting your tequila shot. “The feeling’s mutual.”

Harry stared at you as you brought your glass to your lips. Then he did the same, shooting it down in the same rhythm you did. When you reached for your second glass, Harry raised a brow.

“Not taking your time now?”

“No,” you replied. “Not tonight.”

When you swallowed back the warm liquid, feeling it pulse through your veins, Harry followed. But when he nearly slammed his glass down, he leaned over and kissed you, sucking on your tongue. You held onto him to keep from falling off the stool.

While the kiss and the heated moment itself had seemed to drown out the noise of the crowd, you both were reminded of where you were when the sound of a screeching guitar interrupted your little private soiree. Wiping his bottom lip with his thumb, Harry gave you a dimpled smirk before whispering in your ear.

“Will definitely continue this later.”

Licking your lips, you nodded. “Which one is your friend?” you asked as the band kicked into their first song.

“The lead guitarist, right there,” he gestured. “Lance. He went to our school too, but he was a grade below me.”

“Oh.”

You sat and watched the band play a song you weren’t familiar with, but sounded catchy. Then they went into a song you did know, a throwback from college. Harry smiled widely at you as you began to sing along, then he slipped his hand up your knee underneath the table. You grinned back, covering his hand with yours, still mouthing the words. Reaching for his beer, he lifted the bottle to his lips and took a swig while you continued to enjoy the band, raising your other arm in a fist to shout the lyrics to the chorus.

“This a favorite song of yours?” Harry asked in your ear.

“It was,” you replied. “Just brings back memories. It was one of my first concerts. I got really drunk that night, but don’t tell anybody.”

You giggled as Harry tried to urge his hand up higher on your thigh. “Wish I’d known you then.”

The band switched into a more modern track, and you used the opportunity to drink some of your beer. Your other hand still on Harry’s, you gazed around the room, seeing just how it had filled up since the band had started to play.

“Do you think all these people know the band already, or are they just here ‘cause it’s a bar?”

“Probably a mix of both,” Harry chuckled. “Lance said they have a bit of a following, though.”

“Is this the first time you’ve seen them?”

“Since I’ve been back, yeah. But I’ve known Lance forever, and he’s always been in some kind of band since high school.”

Just then, the song ended and the singer spoke into the mic, introducing the band and its members before starting the next song which was an original.

“Do you want another beer, or a shot?” asked Harry.

“I’m good for now,” you smiled. “But I think I’ll make a trip to the ladies’.”

Rising from your stool, you finally released Harry’s hand with a squeeze, then gave him a peck on the lips before grabbing your clutch and turning for the bathrooms. On your way, you noticed a blonde sitting at the end of the bar, her gaze straight ahead, though it didn’t appear she was watching the band. It looked like she was staring at Harry.

If you hadn’t had to use the restroom so badly, you would have done something, though you weren’t sure what. Instead, you hurried in the ladies’ room - as quickly as you could despite the short line - and began to make your way back to your table.

You stopped in your tracks, however, when you noticed the blonde had taken your seat. She looked like she was arguing with Harry, pointing at him and gesturing with her hands. Harry did the same, opening his arms wide as he spoke to her, until he finally shrugged and the girl stepped off the stool and huffed as she strutted away.

Swallowing hard, you slowly continued your steps toward Harry. He had his head in his hand, his elbow resting on the table when you slipped into your chair.

“Who was that?” you asked hesitantly.

“Oh…” he lifted his head. “Shit. Sorry. Do you want another-”

“Who was that girl, Harry?” you said again, firmly.

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. “My ex-girlfriend.”

“Oh. She didn’t seem too pleased to see you.”

“She um…was looking for me, actually. Reckoned I’d be here.”

“She knows you’re friends with Lance,” you commented.

“Yeah.” Harry stared down at his beer bottle, peeling the edges of the label off with his fingernails. You could tell he was avoiding looking at you.

Exhaling through your nose, you placed your bag on the table in front of you. That must have been Melanie. Not really sure what else to say, you took a swig of your beer. The roaring sound of the crowd around you and the high decibels of the rock band seemed to be miles away as you stared at Harry, hoping he would say something. Finally, you spoke, for the silence between you was driving you crazy.

“Harry…” you leaned forward, placing your hand on his arm. He lifted his head to look at you, but his expression was not one you could easily read. “Do you wanna leave?” you asked.

Sitting up, Harry sighed, his shoulders dropping. Then he shook his head. “No. Fuck, I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“Me too,” you mouthed, though you didn’t really say the words loud enough to hear. Then you took his hand and looked him in the eye. “Harry, I’m enjoying being with you. I really like you. But…I don’t wanna be…”

“Shh,” he silenced you, pulling you to him in an embrace. Then he softly said the things in your ear that you’d hoped he would. “You’re not, sweetheart. Don’t even think it. I’ll tell you more about her later, if you wanna know. But it’s been over for a while. Alright?”

Pulling back, Harry looked at you, studying your face. “I don’t wanna leave…at least not yet. I wanna be here…with you.”

You nodded eagerly, believing his words…wanting to believe them. Bringing his hands to your face, he cupped your cheeks and placed a tender kiss on your lips. Blinking your eyes, you decided to let it go for now. He’d said she was an ex. He obviously knew who your ex was now. Maybe you were even.

You enjoyed the rest of the band’s first set until they stopped to take a fifteen minute break. Lance recognized Harry when he set down his guitar, and walked off the stage to greet him. When Harry introduced him to you, Lance gave a smile and a thank you for coming. They chatted and reminisced for a bit, and you half-wondered if Melanie’s name would come up, but it didn’t.

After Lance left, Harry announced he was going to the bathroom and would return with more drinks. You people-watched while he was away, swinging your legs underneath the table to the beat of the music playing through the speakers. You laughed at a handful of frat boys playing darts at the far wall, and snuck a peak at a couple making out in the corner. Your own desire was still amped up, despite the ex-girlfriend thing, and you secretly hoped Harry would decide to take you home soon.

When he wasn’t back in ten minutes, however, you started to get antsy and a little worried. There was still a crowd at the bar, and you wondered if he was there and needed help carrying your drinks. Grabbing your purse, you walked in that direction, but stopped when you saw your date on the other side of the bar talking to the blonde again. Your stomach suddenly in knots, you strode over to them and tapped Harry on the shoulder. He turned with a surprised look on his face.

“I’m gonna go,” you announced. “I’ll get an Uber.”

“Y/N, no!”

“Yeah…I am. You two obviously have some things to work out. And I’m not in the mood to wait for you to finish tonight.”

When you turned for the exit, Harry grabbed your arm. “Honey, please,” he said. “Don’t leave. I was just telling Melanie to leave, that I was here with you-”

“Melanie,” you repeated. “That’s her name?”

“Yeah, but-”

“Call me when this is over,” you said. “If that’s what you want. Otherwise, don’t call me…at all.”

You heard Harry call your name once more as you made your way to the door, scrambling to get your phone out of your bag. Once outside, you requested an Uber on the app, grateful there was a driver closeby.

You swore to yourself you weren’t going to cry because that would be foolish. You didn’t have any feelings for Harry. He was just some guy. Some really hot, sexy guy who’d made you come four times in one night.

Fuck it all!

You didn’t hear from Harry the rest of the night. Though you sort of wished you would get at least an apology text, asking if you were okay, you got nothing. You got nothing the next day either, nor the day after that. By Monday you’d given up, deciding he was indeed just some guy, and just like his brother, if not worse.

You felt ashamed. Ashamed that you’d insisted it was just sex and told your friends you were just looking to have fun. You couldn’t even call or text them. Marcie would probably say “I told you so,” and Deliah, while she wouldn’t say it, would be thinking it.

It wasn’t until Thursday that you finally got a text from Harry. By then you’d just about forgotten his number was still in your phone. Almost.

Hi.

One word. That was it. Like he was testing the waters, seeing if you would respond. Such a guy thing to do.

You simply replied with the same word. Two letters. No emotion.

I just wanted to say I’m sorry.

Of course he was. Rolling your eyes, you typed back.

What for?

He took a minute to respond. You figured he was trying out different ways to explain without stating the obvious.

For everything, Y/N. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Melanie. We broke up a while ago, but since I’ve been back she’s been trying to get back together. I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

Ok. Short and sweet. No need to go further and spew any word vomit. Keep it simple.

I didn’t mean to hurt you. I really like you, and I’m very attracted to you.

Biting your lip to keep it from trembling, you texted quickly.

So you got back together? You just wanted him to tell you already. Nip it in the bud.

Yes. I’m sorry, Y/N. And I’m sorry I haven’t called.

Taking a deep breath, you let it out slowly. Then you typed your final response.

Thanks for letting me know. Have a nice life.

Tossing your phone on the bed, you sat on the edge and let yourself cry. Just a little.

Three weeks later…

Summer was in full swing, the sun heating up the pavement as the tropical cocktails cooled your throat. You laid between Marcie and Deliah on the pool chairs, sunglasses on your face and a piña colada in your hand. This time the party was hosted by one of Marcie’s colleagues, Jennifer, whose husband was a doctor. Needless to say, the house was gorgeous, the enormous pool and outdoor bar only the icing on the cake.

You were glad to be hanging out with your girlfriends again. While you’d never gone into details about the Harry charade, you’d merely told them they were right, and that he was just wanting a piece of ass. You told them you were over it - in fact, had brushed it off your shoulders like it was nothing - when in truth, it had taken you a bit until the memory of Harry’s touch, his plump lips on yours, his cock deep inside of you had completely vanished.

Who were you kidding? He was still on your mind, every fucking day. But you weren’t about to tell them that.

Ian came up to Marcie and handed her another tequila sunrise, taking her empty glass from her. She thanked him with a term of endearment and you felt your stomach clench. Sipping on your cocktail, you watched the people in the pool throw a beach ball around. Suddenly, the music that was playing through the tiny, hidden speakers switched from the Sabrina Carpenter song you liked to a rock tune by Bon Jovi, immediately transporting you back to the last time you’d heard it.

You could still see him sitting there in Trevor’s loft, holding the glass of beer, a snapback backwards on his head as he stared at you. And as if he had known you were thinking about him, like magic he appeared.

He stood on the other side of the pool, wearing yellow swim trunks and a white t-shirt, sandals on his feet, and a fucking backwards cap on his head. Black shades covered his eyes, but you could swear he was looking right at you, despite the blonde in the blue bikini holding his hand right next to him.

Greg, Jennifer’s husband walked up to him then, and Harry shook hands with him. Then he turned towards the pool chairs behind him where he removed his cap and shirt and laid them down. The uneasy feeling in your stomach was too much to bear, so you shoved your drink at Deliah who glared at you in surprise.

“I don’t feel so well,” you muttered. “Going to the bathroom.”

Slipping into your sandals with haste, you rushed to the back door where Jennifer was just exiting.

“Oh, hey, I just put out more snacks on the kitchen island!” she announced. “Help yourself!”

“Thanks,” you said hurriedly, setting your sunglasses on your head before bolting for the stairs.

You figured a bathroom upstairs would be more private. With relief, you found one halfway down the hall and locked the door behind you.

You can do this! You breathed to yourself. Remember, he’s just a guy.

Taking several more breaths, you used the toilet and washed your hands before deciding you most definitely could do this. It wasn’t like it had been with David. You hadn’t been pining over Harry for twelve years.

Skipping down the stairs, you decided to stop in the kitchen to check out the snacks. You paused when you saw Harry inspecting the fruit and finger sandwiches, laying several on a paper plate. When he lifted his eyes and saw you, he looked surprised.

“Y/N. I…I didn’t know you were here.”

“Sure you did,” you quipped, grabbing a plate for yourself. “You saw me outside.”

“I promise, I didn’t,” he chuckled. “But…it’s good to see you.”

“Mmhmm,” you nodded, reaching for the dip.

“I mean it. You look…amazing.” You watched his eyes follow down your body in your two-piece bathing suit.

“Thanks,” you clipped as you diverted your gaze and started piling potato chips onto your plate.

Making your way around the island, you stopped in front of the watermelon, grabbing several chunks with your plastic fork. Harry hadn’t seemed to move since you walked in the room. But you heard him speak again when you reached for the sandwiches.

“Y/N…”

“Yes?”

“I really am sorry. I was hoping we could be friends.”

Finally looking at him again, you noticed a somber look on his face, one you hadn’t seen before. Regret? Maybe.

“Friends? Sure.”

“You mean it?”

With a nervous chuckle, you shrugged. “Whatever, Harry. But to be honest, I don’t usually become friends with a guy after I’ve slept with him.”

The back door opened again and Greg held it for one of the other guests.

“Oh, can you keep that open for me, please?” you called, carrying your plate of goodies. “Thank you!”

Stepping back out into the sun, you returned to your friends, leaving Harry alone on his island.

The hot afternoon had begun to cool down as the evening breeze blew in. Both Marcie and Deliah had been kind enough to let you know they’d noticed Harry had arrived but would be happy to leave with you if you wanted. You gave them both hugs, assuring them you were fine. Of course it was a lie, but one you were willing to tell for your own sanity.

You hadn’t been able to take your eyes off of him. He stayed on his side of the pool for the most part, and you figured it was mostly due to his girlfriend. Surely she knew you were there as well, and was avoiding any more uncomfortable situations. So other than getting in the pool for a bit yourself, you pretty much stayed in your chair or sat at an umbrella-covered table with your friends.

And of course, the alcohol helped. By four o’clock you’d had a pretty good buzz going and continued to keep it for the rest of the afternoon. It was much easier to have fun and not worry about the hot guy on the other side of the pool when you were tipsy.

By the time the sun was setting, Greg and some of his friends had grilled a delicious feast, everyone partaking with pleasure after the long, hot day. Afterwards, a few people started a game of volleyball in the pool, including Harry. When the other side needed another team member, you decided to join in.

“Y/N, are you crazy?” squealed Deliah.

“No, just drunk,” you laughed.

Taking a spot near the net, you watched Harry as he watched you through his shades. When he missed a serve, you snorted.

“How you gonna see the ball, frat boy?” you heckled. “It’s dark now.”

Slipping his sunglasses off his face, you caught the way he scowled at you. You also didn’t miss the way Melanie leaned over and whispered something in his ear.

The game continued, each team earning two points. But when Harry served, and the ball barely went over the net, you missed it.

“Tough break, princess,” Harry smirked, earning him a piercing look from Melanie.

“I shoulda gotten that one,” said the man standing next to you. “Not your fault.”

You smiled widely at him, knowing full well that Harry’s eyes were on you. This went on for a while. Though it wasn’t a tough game, you definitely got a glimpse of how competitive Harry could be. But you had to admit to yourself it was a turn-on. And though your team ended up losing, you were secretly happy that Harry got the win.

After the game, you grabbed your towel and headed for the house to change into your other clothes you had brought with you. You’d left your bag in a corner beside the sofa, and when you grabbed it and started up the stairs, you heard your name. Looking over your shoulder, you saw Harry coming up behind you.

“What are you doing?” you frowned.

“Just wanted to say that was fun,” he smiled his dimpled grin.

“The volleyball game?”

“Yeah. Didn’t you think so? You seemed to enjoy it.”

“I did,” you nodded, reaching the top of the stairs.

“So we can be friends,” he commented.

Stopping in front of the bathroom door, you turned around and looked at him. Really looked at him. His cap was back on his head, his eyes bloodshot from the chlorine. But he looked incredible. His skin was tan, as though he’d probably already been out in the sun many times that summer already. His swim trunks hung low on his hips, revealing his tattoos. And damn if those dimples didn’t make you want to swoon.

“Playing a game with you and your girlfriend does not make us friends,” you remarked.

“Why not?”

“Because…” you paused, gathering up just the right words and the courage to say them. “Because I didn’t wanna be the one who had to leave the bar that night.”

Harry’s face fell, his expression contrite. He looked like he was about to say something, but you weren’t sure you wanted to hear it. Instead, you turned for the bathroom, but before you could shut the door, Harry followed you in, locking it behind both of you.

“What are you doing?” you asked this time.

But Harry responded only with his mouth. Colliding with yours, he kissed you fervently, his tongue invading your mouth with purpose and determination. Your brain told you to resist, to push him back and out of the closed space, but your body was doing the opposite. Your hand released the towel it was holding, letting it fall to the floor. With a moan, you threw your arms around his neck. Harry’s hands found your waist, sliding down and inside your bikini bottoms. They felt so warm against your cool, damp skin. He pushed down the fabric, letting them pool at your feet. Then he lifted you up and onto the bathroom counter.

“Harry…” you breathed as you stared at his gorgeous face.

Reaching behind you, he pulled on the string that tied your top around your back, then the one around your neck. Your breasts exposed, he cupped them before licking his lips and lowering his head to suck. You threw your head back, holding onto his shoulders.

When he lifted his head again, he smirked. “How quiet can you be, sweetheart?”

“Wha-what about…your girlfriend?” you came to your senses before he leaned in for another kiss.

“What about her?” Harry asked with heavy-lidded eyes.

You chuckled incredulously. “She’s downstairs, Harry. Or did you forget?”

With a groan, he leaned forward and let his head fall on your shoulder. “Shit. I think I made a mistake, love.”

“What?”

“I shouldn’t’ve gotten back with her.” His words were muffled against your neck, but you heard him clearly.

“Oh. Okay…” You hadn’t expected him to say that.

“I can’t get you outta my head, Y/N,” he added, looking at you again. “You’re so fucking sexy…but I think…it’s more than that. We’ve just…we’ve grown apart, Melanie and me.”

“So…break up with her.” You let the words slip out before you realized. Before you even admitted that’s what you wanted.

Harry blinked a few times as he considered your request. When you got no response, you gently pushed on his chest.

“I gotta go,” you said, sliding off the counter and reaching for your bag. You pulled out your clothes and stepped into your underwear.

Harry was still silent as you finished dressing. When you yanked your bag onto your shoulder, you turned to look at him.

“Bye, Harry.” Reaching a hand out, you touched his face, then gave his lips a soft kiss.

As you opened the door, you heard him say. “I will.”

The knock startled you, waking you from your sleep. Throwing your hand out to your nightstand, you searched for your phone, lighting it up to check the time. It was half past midnight. A handful of texts with Harry’s name also displayed. Sitting up, you turned on the lamp, adjusting your vision.

Can I come over? I know it’s late.

I broke up with her.

Please, Y/N, I need to see you.

With a groan, you threw back the covers and crawled out of bed. The incessant knocking grew louder as you got closer to the front door.

“Okay, I’m coming, Jesus!” Swinging the door open, you were met with a familiar face, one you had just left a few hours ago. “Harry, what the fuck?”

“Sorry I woke you,” he said.

“No you’re not.”

Dropping his shoulders, Harry sighed. “No. I’m not.”

Pushing you backwards with his palms, he crossed the threshold, knocking the door closed with the heel of his boot. His arms wrapped around your waist before you could protest, his mouth covering yours.

You hated the way your lips fit together so perfectly. You hated the way your body reacted to his kiss. And more than anything, you hated the way you had wanted this to happen ever since you’d told him goodbye in that bathroom.

He guided you backwards toward your bedroom, or maybe you guided him. His lips didn’t leave yours until his hands tugged on your tank top, and you lifted your arms to help him remove it. Standing before him in just your panties, you stared at him, his fucking cozy flannel shirt, his ever present snapback.

“I broke up with her, Y/N,” he voiced softly, echoing his text.

“So you said.”

“It was a mistake to get back together with her. We just…wanted to try to make it work, you know? See if there was something still there between us-”

“Harry, shut up.”

“What?”

“I don’t wanna know about you and Melanie,” you chuckled, exasperated. “Why are you here?”

A smirk twitched on his lips as he stared at you incredulously. “What do you mean? I told you I needed to see you.”

“Yes, but are you gonna fuck me or not?”

His smirk widening into a full smile, Harry nodded, pulling you into another kiss. Removing his boots, he laid you down on the bed, his mouth trailing down your neck to nibble on your tits.

“Fuck, your skin is so soft. I’ve missed it so much,” he groaned, his hands sliding down your sides.

You grabbed hold of his hat, dropping it on the floor before running your fingers through his curls. Harry shimmied his body down between your legs while his mouth continued to leave a kiss on each part of your body down to your belly.

“This I’ve missed the most,” he whispered when his mouth stopped at your cloth-covered mound.

You whined softly as he slid his thumb up and down your slit, over your panties. You heard him chuckle low before your eyes met.

“Is this for me, sweetheart?” he asked.

“Yes. All yours, Harry.”

“All mine, hmm?” he breathed, reaching for the sides of your underwear.

You lifted your hips so he could pull them down, and he made sure his hands carefully but seductively traced your legs all the way until he reached your ankles. His body now on the floor, he knelt before you and pulled you closer so that your bottom was on the edge of the bed, your legs spread wide.

“Fuck, such a pretty pussy, sweetheart,” he growled. “And all mine.”

His ringed finger held your thighs open as his wet tongue slid up your slit, resting on the bundle of nerves. Your toes immediately curled, your fingers grasping the bedding underneath you. You moaned as he slowly began circling and tapping on your clit, a quickly heightened sensation that you’d forgotten you craved.

“Oh, fuck yes,” you whined.

You felt him moan against you which only accelerated your pleasure. Tugging on his hair, you urged him closer, needing to feel the friction and release. When his fingers joined in on the fun, you arched your back, crying out his name.

“Harry, oh god, make me come!”

“Yeah, baby, that’s the plan.”

You felt the tension in your core as his fingers hit the tender spot inside. Light-headed, you could feel yourself steadily reaching the precipice until the coil snapped and you cried out again, your legs trembling around his head.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Good girl,” Harry cooed as you came. “So fucking sexy.”

Your chest heaving, you moaned his name, over and over, as if you were finally spilling out all the times you thought about him, all the times you wished he was in your bed.

“Harry, Harry, Harry…”

With a chuckle, Harry slithered up your body. “I like that,” he said before kissing you. “Love to hear my name on your lips.”

“Mmm, I can’t help it, Harry. I needed you so bad.”

“Yeah? Been thinking about me, baby?”

You nodded, biting your bottom lip. You worried you’d confessed too much, but when Harry’s expression softened, and he whispered the words “me too”, you considered perhaps you hadn’t.

Sitting up, Harry removed his flannel and the t-shirt underneath. With a grin, you sat up too, on your knees, sliding your hands up his torso. He sighed when your lips met his chest and you kissed the ink that was displayed there.

“Mmm, that feels nice,” he said, his bedroom eyes on you when you gazed up at him.

Your fingers quickly found the button on his jeans, your hand slipping inside to cup his prominent bulge while your mouth continued to kiss his flesh, your tongue tracing the top of his butterfly tattoo.

“Fuck me, Y/N, you’re so hot.”

“So are you, Harry. I need to feel you.”

“Yeah? You want my cock, sweetheart?”

“Yes, please,” you nodded up at him with pouty lips.

Harry smirked as he leaned in for a kiss. “Oh you are so fucking sweet, aren’t you?”

You nodded, meeting his lips and sucking on his tongue. He moaned against you before crawling off the bed to remove his jeans and underwear. You reached into your bedside drawer to get a condom, happy to roll it on his incredible erection.

“C’mere, honey,” he growled as he stood at the foot of the bed. He pulled you to the edge again, aiming his hard cock at your entrance.

“Are you wet enough?” he asked.

“Very,” you exhaled, as he tested the waters for himself.

“Always so wet for me,” he grinned before entering you slowly. “Mmm yeah, so good.”

Holding on your waist, Harry fucked you slow and deep. Running your hands down your chest, watched him as he watched you, his green eyes dark in the lamp light. Your breaths quickened as he thrust faster, his hands sliding underneath you to lift you higher.

“Oh yeah, fuck me…” you cried. “Feels so good.”

“Yeah, you like that baby?”

“So much. Oh god!”

You watched his arm muscles flex, his stomach tighten as he fucked you harder. His jaw slack, his beautiful lips opened as he puffed out heavy breaths. He looked so sexy, you could barely stand it. When you cried out again, he slowed, lightly patting your behind.

“Turn over, babe,” he instructed.

Getting on your hands and knees, you scooted to the edge of the bed again where Harry eagerly grabbed your hips, guiding you to where he wanted you. You felt the pressure in your cunt as he slipped inside your walls, enveloping his cock and dripping down your leg.

“Fuck!” you exclaimed as he pressed his palm to your back.

“Fuck yeah, sweetheart, you feel amazing. Nice and deep.”

“Ohhh Harry!”

Harry’s moans got deeper and more guttural as he pounded into you. You grasped at your sheets, needing to scratch at something. When he slapped your ass, you almost came undone.

“Fuck baby, this is so good, but I wanna see your pretty face when you come,” Harry groaned. Pulling out, he urged you to turn around again. “Grab hold of me.”

You did as you were told, wrapping your arms around his neck. He pulled you up as you wound your legs around him, his cock sliding back into place. You bounced on him, impressed by his strength as he held you up.

“Oh my god!” you cried out again.

“Oh fuck yeah!” Harry moaned, thrusting harder. “God, you drive me crazy, Y/N. Can’t stop thinking about you.”

“Mmm, me neither.”

He kissed you then, a deep, sensual kiss before lying you back down on the bed. As he hovered over you, the lamp reflected in his eyes, his gorgeous face full of desire. He resumed his thrusts, driving deeper and hitting the sweet spot, making you cry out all over again.

“Fuck me, baby!” you demanded. “Just like that, don’t stop. Make me come.”

“Yeah, you gonna come for me honey?”

“Yes!”

“Touch yourself. Touch your sweet clit while I fuck you.” He lifted your legs to his shoulders while you reached for your clit. It only took a couple thrusts before you were writhing underneath him, calling out his name.

“Good girl,” he cooed. “Y/N, you’re so fucking hot, oh my god.”

He kissed you tenderly then as you trembled in his arms. Your heart beating heavily in your chest, your breaths quickened, you held on tightly, urging him to continue.

“I’m so close already, love,” said Harry through his own heavy breaths. “You feel so fucking good.”

He slipped his arms underneath your back and cradled your neck in his hands. He stared at you as he sped up his thrusts, deep groans rising from his throat.

“Ahh fuck yeah…ohhhhh…” Harry buried his face in the crook of your neck as he emptied into the condom. When he lifted his head to look at you, you both chuckled.

“Wow,” he breathed.

“I know,” you smiled.

“That was so fucking good,” he commented before dropping his head again.

You ran your fingertips up and down his back soothingly, giving him a minute to come down. When he rolled off of you, he gave you an amazing smile, his eyes cute and squinty.

“Mind if I stay the night?” he asked.

“Definitely not,” you replied, reaching to touch his curls.

“Good. Because I’d like to do that again.”

taglist: @daphnesutton, @freedomfireflies, @cohnfusedarling, @heartateasee, @buckybarnessimpp, @behindmygreyeyes @carpiovanessa-blog @ottawaoutlander @fairytale07 @finelinepie @hisparentsgallerryy @mj-loves-rejjxxxx , @cherrymojitoo @fangirl7060 @kittenhere @ghoststyles @harryyloverrr @monicaalexandraaa @lovebittenbyevans @babegoalsreads @gurugirl @lillefroe @adorebeaa @daydreaming-laur @fkinavocado @nataylia13 @fruitmans @becauseheartsgetbroken-hs @miraclealignertlsp369 @adoredeanna

i hope i didn't miss anyone! thank you all for reading, reblogging and commenting! it means the world to me!

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bayjaruchel · 1 year ago

Text

Whammy Kiss Me (Whammy Hug)

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Pairing: Clapton Davis/AFAB Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Maybe Seven Minutes in Heaven isn't a pointless party game, after all. (3.9k | originally posted on ao3 | Masterlist )

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It's not until the closet door shuts that you realize the gravity of your current situation.

You've been at the party for at least a couple of hours; you've grown used to the general noise. The slight haziness of the air. You're not quite hammered yet, but you've got one or two drinks in your system. Just enough that you can enjoy the feeling without worrying about the hangover tomorrow. Judging by the way that a couple of people had been giggling and swaying, not everyone who was sitting around the circle shared your sense of self-conservation.

Although it hadn't been the brightest outside— it was dim, but also somewhat illuminated at the same time with the neon lighting— the single lightbulb hanging above your heads doesn't do much against the darkness.

Yeah. Heads, plural.

Luckily, there's only one person in the cramped space besides yourself.

Unluckily, that person is one Clapton Davis.

It's not that you don't like him. Actually, you feel the exact opposite towards him, but that's not the point. It's just that— you know, you could spend seven minutes just sitting in silence, doing absolutely nothing— but you're suddenly hyper-aware of the way your knees are brushing. The way there's something in the air. Maybe you're just imagining it, but there's something … restless. Something like—

Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted when he speaks.

"So," he says, casually. As if you're not within necking distance in a cramped space. "You enjoying the party?" There's that same easy grin on his face. He's completely at ease, apparently. You're not sure if that's because of his ever-present (and sometimes misguided) confidence, or because he's used to stupid little party games like this. It's probably a combination of both.

"Yeah." You find yourself replying, almost on autopilot. "The punch isn't as bad as I thought it would be."

Clapton honest-to-god giggles at that. "It's still pretty shitty, though."

"I wouldn't say shitty."

"Awful, then." He raises his eyebrows. "Let's just say that it's an … acquired taste."

You can't help but smile. "Fair." He's right— you're pretty sure that the only people who actually enjoy it are the people who regularly attend these parties. Said people usually just come to get drunk, anyway, and the punch works wonders. Magically malicious.

"It's either that or cheap beer," he muses. "Or wine busted from mommy and daddy's fridge in the basement."

"Expensive wine?"

"Could be." Clapton shrugs, pulling his knees closer to his chest. You try in vain not to focus on his arms as he wraps them around his legs. Was it really necessary to wear the tank top? "Maybe," he says. "But I doubt that anyone here would wanna drink it."

You unconsciously mirror his posture. "Why's that?"

He snorts. "Too classy."

It sort of makes sense. You can't really see Josh from Calculus sipping a glass of pinot noir, much less enjoying it. Maybe one has to start from the bottom of the hypothetical alcohol pyramid and work their way up. The bottom, meaning Bud Light. Or Coors Light. All of the Lights.

"Cheap beer it is, then."

Clapton's grin is back.

"Unfortunately."

You're starting to relax, even if you can still feel your heart pounding whenever his eyes meet yours. Even if your eyes are lingering. When he reaches up to idly run his fingers through his hair, you can't stop yourself from wondering: is it as soft as it looks?

"How much time d'you think we have left?" He asks, just as you're attempting to reel yourself back in.

"Uh," you start. Nice. "I don't know— maybe, like, four minutes or so?" Spending a couple of minutes talking about drinks wasn't exactly the plan, but you're not exactly complaining. It's still better than awkward silence. You wonder— again— about how many times he's done this before. How long does it usually take before people give in?

The muffled music from outside has been reduced to just the thumping of the bass, and the rhythm matches your pulse.

"Four minutes," he echoes.

You can't hold his gaze, glancing down at your knees instead.

"Yeah."

You can tell when Clapton adjusts himself where he's sitting, but you have a feeling that he hasn't looked away. Not yet.

"What do you wanna do now?" He asks, innocently. "Four minutes is a long time."

When you look up, you're proven right. The faint glow of the light doesn't hide anything. It just makes everything feel vaguely dreamlike. And, okay. This is pretty cliche. But you've watched too many movies, seen too many shows— you know what that look is. That look doesn't mean that he wants to play rock-paper-scissors for the remainder of your time left.

"I don't know," you manage. "What do you want to do?"

His eyes dip briefly before flicking back up.

"I was asking you," he teases softly. "We've already had a pointless conversation." He mimes checking a box midair with his pointer finger. "Check. And we've already sat in silence for a couple of seconds." He repeats the motion on another imaginary box. "Check."

"Oh, ouch. Talking about alcohol is pointless?" You're a little amused. "So, what's left on the list?"

Clapton raises his eyebrows again.

There's a shift in the air.

"C'mon, don't tell me that you actually don't know." His tone's dropped to little more than a whisper, but due to your closeness, you can hear him loud and clear. Your brief bit of confidence wanes— your face warms, and you pause. Sure, you're well aware of what he's implying— but you're not sure if he's just joking around or not. When has Clapton Davis ever been serious, besides that one time he competed in a skateboarding competition in the sixth grade?

The lighthearted lilt in his voice is almost gone, though.

"I know what you're trying to say," you finally reply, matching his volume. And you do want to kiss him. You really, really do.

"Okay," he murmurs in return. "Well, that's good." He dares to smile, though you know you're weak to it.

"I don't have to ask you out loud, right?"

He definitely already knows the answer to that question.

"Yeah, you don't."

You've tuned out the outside world, muffled as it already was. The music and noise fade to a quiet hum. You can hear the quiet buzz of the lightbulb— the barely audible clattering as your back moves against the uncomfortable storage shelves— the sound of his sneakers scuffing against the hardwood floor—

"But if I did ask," he says, uncharacteristically hesitant, "you'd say yes?"

Your heartbeat thrums in your throat.

The seconds tick by— you know you can't wait. It's been at least a minute and a half—

"Just do it," you breathe.

And he does.

The first thing you register is how soft his lips are. Then, his hands— cupping your face— your own hands reaching up to tangle in his hair, tugging him closer. His hair is as soft as it looks. There's no slow build-up because there's no time for that. All you can think about is him— the little sounds he lets out as you kiss, the way he can't wait when you part, his breath briefly coming in soft pants before he leans in to capture your lips again. He tastes vaguely like beer, and maybe that would have bothered you if it were any other guy— but with him, you don't really care at all. His nose presses a little awkwardly against yours a couple of times, but he makes up for it with how eager he is. You know he's not a bad kisser; he's just impatient.

You lose yourself for a little while. It feels like forever. You wrap your arms around his neck, reluctantly dropping your grip on his hair. His hands start to stray, one anchoring itself behind your neck and the other traveling lower. And lower—

There's a loud series of knocks at the door.

Clapton's slower to react, and you're the one to pull back first. When you do, he leans forward to chase your lips— but stops upon noticing your expression. In direct comparison to you, he just looks giddy. Almost dazed. His hair's a little disheveled from earlier, and he hasn't let go of you yet.

"Huh," he says, before the door is yanked open.

You're immediately greeted by exactly what you had expected. Whistles. Catcalls. General hooting. Some "called it!"s and "you owe me five bucks, man!"s.

Clapton just grins, reveling in it all. Because of course he would. But, before you can get too embarrassed, he's getting to his feet, pulling you along with him as you both exit the closet— exiting what had previously been your own little world. Instead of just rejoining the circle, like part of you expects him to do, he pauses to lean over to you and whisper:

"Wanna go upstairs?"

You blink at him. He's still smiling— he almost looks star-struck. You feel that familiar swoop in your stomach. Maybe it's a stupid decision that you'll regret later, but—

"Okay," you agree.

The whistling doesn't stop as he grabs your wrist, making a beeline for the stairs. The son of a bitch takes them two at a time, and you do your best to keep up. Upstairs, it's quieter than it is on the ground floor, since there are fewer people up here; still, though, you can hear the music echoing through the hallway. A girl's laughter rings out, followed by a string of giggles.

It's not very hard to find an empty bedroom. You gingerly shut the door behind you, taking a moment to look around. There are one or two posters here and there, and a few photos placed on the dresser. Other than that, it's kind of bare-bones. A guest room, maybe? You sure hope so. While you're distracted, Clapton leisurely sits down on the bed, bouncing a couple of times.

"Cozy," he remarks, and you turn to look at him.

"You think?"

He grins. "Sure do."

You sit next to him on the mattress. It's not bad. For a moment, he just looks at you. Taking you in.

But he doesn't hesitate much longer, and leans in. Automatically, you angle your head just so. Unlike before, he kisses you in small pecks at first. One of his hands finds your cheek. However, as the minutes draw by, your kisses grow longer. More languid. He hums into your mouth, and you move closer. Closer, until your thighs are brushing his, and you're nearly off-balance, but it's still not close enough.

He draws back. This close to him, you can pick out his freckles. His eyelashes are long, framing half-lidded eyes. His lips are still parted.

"Should I lay back?" He asks, hushed. "Or do you wanna—"

"Go ahead," you interrupt.

Clapton flops backward onto the pillows, wiggling around to make himself more comfortable. When you think he's got himself in a good position, you crawl over him. The way he looks up at you— it makes you a little lightheaded, but in the best way possible. His hands find your waist. You can do little but settle against him, pressing your lips to his for the nth time.

Enthusiastically, he responds, and it's not long before your kisses grow messier. Needier. His hands wander, moving down to rest on your hips, and then lower— you let out a gasp when he squeezes your ass, and he uses the opportunity to pull you harder against him. You're no stranger to how strong his arms are, but, yeah, being on top of him like this is an entirely new experience. He's soft and firm in equal measures, his chest sturdy where it's pressed against yours. His hands are warm when he moves them under your shirt, up your back, making you shiver.

Bracing your hands on his torso, you sit up. For a second, he's confused, but that quickly fades away as you reach down to pull up your shirt.

"Holy shit," he murmurs. He scrambles to discard his tank top too, yanking it over his head. You were right— he's toned, but there's still a fair bit of softness there. Of course his chest doesn't have any hair, but at least he kept the trail. You lay back on top of him, the feeling of his skin against yours like this causing you to shudder again. Clapton's hands start to explore once more— square palms, strong fingers. It must be a little bit of an uncomfortable stretch for him, but his thumbs find your nipples, tracing soft circles.

You briefly enjoy the sensation. Then, your breath stutters when he gently urges you forward and then leans up so he can take them into his mouth. It must be self-indulgent for him, too, because he spends more time than necessary— sucking, flicking his tongue— but it's not like you're complaining.

When he finally stops, he presses a kiss to the middle of your chest before laying back on the pillows. You move back down, and can't resist the urge to kiss him in return. His jaw— his cheek, which makes him smile. He's already started hooking his fingers in your waistband, and your mild surprise must show on your face, because he abruptly stops.

"Sorry," he grimaces, "am I going too fast? I - Is that too much?"

Hastily, you shake your head. "Oh, no. Not at all. It's fine. Just— it just caught me off-guard."

"Okay." The worry vanishes in an instant. "Okay, I'm gonna."

You let him slide down your bottoms, and then take them off the rest of the way yourself. His shorts quickly join the rest of the clothing on the floor. Now, you're more or less sitting in his lap— he props himself up on the headboard, his breath heavy as you shift on top of him. With only a few layers between you, you're aware of the shape of him through his boxers.

You grind your hips with purpose, and he swears under his breath. When you do it again, he muffles himself by kissing you. The friction— you know it's not going to be enough— makes you more desperate, and it must be having the same effect on him, judging by the way he's slightly squirming underneath you. He's not quite thrusting up against you, but it's obvious that if he were in a better position, he would be. When your cunt brushes against him, catching at that angle, he moans openly into your mouth. You draw back only for air. If you could, you'd keep kissing him forever.

"You gonna let me— mmh — fuck you?" He pants, "ohmygod, 'cause if you don't, you— you are one sick bastard—"

You smile, although you want him just as badly as he wants you. You're doing a slightly better job at keeping yourself composed, after all. "I don't know," you murmur, "isn't this nice?"

Clapton bites his lip when you grind down harder this time. "I — well," his hands scramble on your waist, your hips, "it is pretty nice, but, like — I just wanna take the logical— shitfuck — next step, right?" He's looking up at you with wide eyes, "and you are gonna let me, right?"

"Right," you repeat, your breath catching when you roll your hips at just the right angle, "I am gonna let you, don't worry."

He's flushed a pretty pink, pupils blown wide, obscuring hazel eyes; you drink him in. "Thought so," he grins. Before you can ask, he's already answering. "And, uh. There's a condom in the pocket of my shorts, if you're worried about that."

You're in mild disbelief, abruptly halting your movements.

"In your—?"

Clapton looks a little bashful, though he's still grinning. "Could you just get it?"

You're already awkwardly dismounting his lap. "Sure, sure." True to his word, there's a condom in the left pocket of his shorts, and you fish it out without a problem. You glance back at him for a moment, and he doesn't even try and pretend that he wasn't staring. Oh, well. A little clumsily, you get back onto the bed, and move to straddle him again— but he gently stops you.

"Hey," he says, "can we switch places?"

You don't need much time to consider it. "Alright."

Now, he's hovering between your legs, and you're the one lying back. His gaze lingers, but he can't wait for much longer. You lift your hips, and he slides your last remaining piece of fabric off.

"Fuck," he breathes, just before he gets to work. With the pad of one of his fingers, he collects the wetness that had been gathering, then smoothly slides the digit into your cunt. Swiftly, he adds another, the sensation odd at first, but you know you'll quickly get used to it. When he begins to lightly trace your clit, it only makes it easier for you to loosen up— both figuratively and literally. And he's still adding another. Maybe three fingers aren't strictly necessary, but he crooks them, finding the spot that makes an almost embarrassing noise tumble from your lips.

You spread your thighs wider. You could definitely cum like this if you let him continue for a while. Glancing up at his face— oh, he definitely would if you wanted him to. He's torn between looking at how his fingers disappear into you and your face. How you're reacting to his touch. It's a little flattering. But as much as part of you wants to see what he's willing to do —

"I'm — " You feel yourself tense, and you barely stifle an involuntary moan when he thumbs your nub again. "I'm ready. You can —"

He doesn't even wait until you finish the sentence. He's already pulling out his fingers, tugging off his boxers. Your eyes are immediately drawn downward. Again, you're not surprised that he's shaved. Length-wise, he's probably around average, but girth-wise he's nice and thick. There's a bead of precum at the tip— if he wasn't already tearing open the condom with his teeth in a move that he's probably practiced before, you would've offered to blow him or something. Maybe some other time.

Your idle thoughts dissipate when he lines himself up and, with an amount of care that nearly belies his previous neediness, presses in. You both moan in unison— he sounds infinitely more strained. He takes a moment to catch his breath, but—

He starts moving. Little thrusts, at first. Then, pulling out more, pushing back in. His mouth falls open, and you can't resist throwing your arms around his neck, pulling him down. He groans, and you take it in, taking it with his increasing pace. It's good— his thumb finds your sensitive apex again, and that makes you jolt, but you know he's trying to give you a smooth progression between slow and fast. That's not what you want, though. Especially not now. Inches from his lips, you mutter:

"Don't hold back."

And that's all it takes. You can vaguely hear the bed creaking when he snaps his hips up to meet yours, roughly fucking into you with almost reckless abandon. Your kisses are sloppy, uncoordinated. But you wouldn't prefer it any other way. You know he probably wouldn't be making those noises if he didn't know they were muffled against you. Some are high-pitched— ragged gasps, moans, and at least one whimper. You also know you don't sound much different. He can't reach down to rub your throbbing clit anymore, due to how he's positioned, but the way that he's angled is more than satisfying in that regard.

You lose track of time, only aware of his hips colliding against yours— his lips, his hands — the way he's starting to babble. "Fuck, you look so pretty like this," he confesses in a rush, "god, your eyes. I could just — I could just look at you like this forever. If you could see yourself — nnh — you would know." A sharp intake of breath, a few kisses, and then, "Ohfuck. Shit. You're gonna ruin this forever for me. I can't — "

His rhythm is starting to falter. You can feel the heat pooling low in your gut, the tension that comes before the inevitable release. You tighten around him. His hands braced near your shoulders tremble, and you can see his biceps flexing with the effort of holding himself up like this.

"Please," Clapton chokes out, and he doesn't specify as to what he wants, but you have a pretty good idea. "I'm gonna— "

"Do it," you manage, despite your own climbing pitch, "c'mon, give it to me—"

"Fuck— " You feel him pulse. For a split second, you wonder how it would feel if he didn't have on the condom— but your thoughts are quickly overtaken, as you're not too far behind. You twitch, spasming around his cock as your mouth falls open. The tension peaks, the heat spikes—

He fucks you, gently, as you float back down, riding out your orgasm. Your eyelids flutter shut, and your breath slows, but your pulse is still a fast-paced staccato.

He gingerly lays on top of you, catching his breath. It's hot against your throat. The world ceases spinning, and you let out a long sigh.

He mimics it, and you glance down at him.

You're reluctant to say it, but seriously, this is someone else's house. Guest room or not.

"We should get cleaned up or something."

He blinks once, lazily. Seemingly, he's content to lay on your chest. Of course, he's the type to get sleepy after sex. But at least he makes an effort to respond. "Ugh," he says. And then: "Jus' gimme a minute or something."

You give him a look, and he surrenders. "Okay, fine."

He slips out with a wet noise, and you only miss the fullness for a moment. Getting off the mattress, he throws out the condom, then accepts the wad of tissues you hand him. It's not the best, but it'll have to do for now. You manage to get most of the evidence of your arousal off before pulling back on your clothes. There's a mirror, thankfully, so you go to try and make yourself look less … fucked. Not that it would really matter. There are definitely people in worse states.

Clapton stands next to you, but doesn't even try to fix his hair. On him, it looks fashionably disheveled, anyway.

It's silent, before he interjects:

"Is this … gonna be just a one-time thing?"

The strange apprehensiveness is back, and you chance a glance at him. He's not meeting your eyes, but you're sure he's looking at you in the mirror's reflection.

"I don't know," is all you can think to say, "do you want it to be?" A beat. "We could totally go back to being just sort of friends, if that's what you want."

Clapton visibly swallows. "I … "

You wait, patiently. He takes another few seconds.

"I liked that," he mutters, "a lot. And I— I meant all that stuff. About you."

He's still not meeting your eyes. It makes you pause.

"I liked it too," you reply, softly.

The look he gives you next says it all. You know he's not big on old-school romance. He's not big on flowery words— his English grades can certainly attest to that. He's more of an action-oriented guy. Even if you don't get a verbal confession just yet— and you know you will, just not now— you suddenly understand what he's trying to convey. So, you pull yourself together and throw caution to the wind.

"You wanna get out of here?"

He beams.

#clapton davis x reader #clapton davis x you #clapton davis imagines #clapton davis smut #josh hutcherson x reader

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