#ah. all that wedged in my head more than i thought it did huh. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

treehouse-anon · 1 year ago

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Haven't had time to write for a while, but I did do an unfinished RP. Similar elements to the treehouse story, but about being babysat by a sporty midwestern white cousin named Kimberly. Not the most original or well-written, but it's something. Inspired by this picture:

(Source: https://www.deviantart.com/ninaring/art/Big-Booty-At-The-Games-942740713)

Here it is, reformatted.

Billy sat on his couch watching tv. His parents had left for the weekend and despite him thinking he was old enough to watch himself, his parents decided to ask his cousin Kimberly to babysit him! He hadn’t seen Kimberly in years and was not looking forward to spending the whole weekend with her! Although it was just the morning, the sun was beating down outside and it was already 86 degrees outside. “Gross…” Billy thought to himself as he imagined himself spending the whole day sitting right there on the couch, watching tv and playing video games all in the comfort of the air conditioning. A sudden knock at the door knocked him out of his day dream as he got up, walking over and opening the door.

Kimberly was dressed in her softball uniform, towering over little Billy at 6 feet tall. Her huge hips barely fit into the pants, and her long blonde hair was in a ponytail. "Hey there, brat!" Before he could react, she grabbed his head and noogied him. "I've been saving a special treat for you, you hungry?" She pushed effortlessly pushed him down onto his knees and pressed his face into her huge butt with one arm. "Come on, open up, say aaaaaaaa."

Wow Kimberly had certainly grown since the last time he saw her! He had to look up to make eye contact with her. “Hey, Ah! ah! Stop it!” he complained as she grabbed his head, giving him a noogie before pushing him down to his knees! He was shocked at how strong she was as he felt her hand on the back of his head! “wait no-!” he started to yell as his face was pulled up against her, making contact with her giant, soft ass! He raised his hands up and they found some purchase on her cheeks as he tried to push himself back!

Kimberly laughed at the feeling of his weak little hands pawing at her big meaty cheeks. "Wow, okay there big boy, getting a little handsy huh? I didn't know you were such a perv! Well, maybe this will help. Open up!" She pressed his face deeper into her cheeks. The smell was not too sweaty yet, she must have showered recently, but soon he was flooded with a warm burst of spicy methane that smelled like cooked meat. Braappppppppppt! "Well, how do you like my butt now? Come on, guess what I ate for breakfast, then I'll let you go."

Billy groaned, feeling the thick fabric of those softball pants, barely containing her wide hips and bubbly butt! Its true, softball players were the thickest! Billy could barely breathe as he was pushed in deeper, his nose wedged deep in between her cheeks! He gagged, as his face was suddenly washed over by a fart! The smell made his nose burn and eyes sting as he shook his head, trying to back it out! The smell was rancid but smelled like chili? “Chili?” Billy asked, his voice quiet and muffled as he could barely speak in his humiliating position!

"Ding ding ding! You win! And your prize is… a kiss!" She let him go, pushing him back with her butt to fall onto the floor. "I have softball practice in 10 minutes, so you're coming with me. And you're not running off to get in any trouble. But if you behave well… Remember my friend Brenda? From the softball team? The one you had a little crushy crush on? Maybe I can convince her to give you a kiss, okay? She's even more ladylike than me. Hehehe. Now, get your stuff together, we're leaving in 30 seconds."

Billy fell to his back, pushed back by Kimberly’s massive butt! He gasped, grateful for fresh air as he looked up at his babysitter with a horrified look in his eyes! He could still smell that fart in his nose each time he breathed! “D-do I have to?” He asked before he realized that you were serious! There goes the day of relaxing in the air conditioning… he thought to himself as he put on his shoes, blushing a bit as he thought about getting a kiss from Brenda!

She sped down the road the moment he got into the passenger seat. "You remember last time I babysat you last year, and your mom got mad at me because you snuck off to your room and watched porn on her computer? What was it again? Big butt booty bitches? Hahahaha, learn to delete the history next time. Well, you're not getting out of my sight this time." She pulled into a starbucks drive through and ordered a caramel frap, then turned to Billy with her hand out. "Well, cough up, you know the rules. Babysitter's fee, you have to pay for my expenses. I know you have some allowance in your pocket."

Billy blushed, remembering the last time Kimberly babysitted him and it was clear she didn’t forget either! He wished he could disappear into the car seat as her teasings made him feel humiliated! He grumbled a few choice words as he realized he was on the hook for her frappe! Reluctantly he dug into his pocket, pulling out more than enough to cover the drink. “No change?” He asks, watching Kimberly take his change and put it into her pocket!

She smiled and ignored him, driving the rest of the way to the ballpark. She parked behind the bleachers, then ordered Billy out of the car. "Now… I need to really make sure you don't try and sneak away, so… " She pulled out a roll of duct tape. "First off, I need you to strip down to your undies. That way even if you get out of the tape, you still have to hide behind the bleachers." She smiled, waiting for him to comply and then crouching behind her car, seeming to be pulling down her pants.

“You’ve got to be kidding…” He mumbled as he looked at the roll of tape in your hands! He realized that he really didn’t have a choice as he slowly began to strip down, constantly checking over his shoulder to make sure that nobody saw him! As he stripped down it seemed like you were doing the same? “Okay Kimberly I’m ready…” He said softly, trying tk cover his exposed body as best he could, looking at you crouching over behind the car

Kimberly came back out, tugging her pants back up around her hips and holding a pair of panties. "I forgot to get something to gag you with, so these will do. Now hold still." She stuffed the panties into Billy's mouth, duct taped it shut, and then taped his hands and feet. Admiring her work, she smiled and blew him a kiss. "I'll be back in two hours. Don't pee yourself!" Before leaving, she checked his pockets and took the rest of his money, then locked his clothes in the car.

“Wait you cant be serious!” Billy said, taking a step back as he sees Kimberly approaching him with the lacy panties she must have been just wearing! She rapidly approached him, quickly silencing him and taping the panties in his mouth! His eyes went wide as he gagged loudly! The panties felt warm and tasted like sweat! “Mmmmpfhh!” he tried to speak but was effectively silenced! His wrists were taped together behind his back and his ankles were also taped! He watched his babysitter walk off to practice before looking at his clothes in the car! He tried to hop around a bit but fell onto the dirt, groaning in discomfort!

Hours passed, and it felt like more than 2 hours later when Billy heard footsteps and giggles. Kimberly, covered in sweat, walked over. "Right where I left him! Hehe, see how obedient he is." Behind her stood Brenda, giggling. "Oh, stop, you're so mean hehehe!"

Billy lay there, intermittently struggling against the tape, growing quite sweaty himself as the day only continued to get hotter! Eventually he heard some chatter and giggling! Rolling over he saw Kimberly approaching, with Brenda right next to her! They both were glistening with sweat, Brenda’s large chest bouncing with each step! Billy’s heart began to pound in his chest as he looked down, her wide hips also wiggling, those softball pants stretched wide to contain her thick thighs! He shuffled uncomfortably, his muscles sore from not being used for so long as he looked up at Kimberly and Brenda!

Brenda giggled and blushed. "Wow, he looks so embarrassed." Kimberly slapped her on the shoulder. "Don't worry, he's having fun. Now, Billy, are you ready for your surprise? Brenda said she would let you give her a kiss, but you have to trust me and close your eyes, and then pucker up your lips, okay?" She went over, without untying him, started to remove his duct tape gag and prop him sitting up against the bleachers.

Billy was embarrassed as he could feel his crush staring down at his exposed position, hands and ankles bound, only in his underwear! Kimberly propped him up so he was sitting, resting against the bleachers as she undid his gag! “okay…” he said sheepishly, spitting once, trying to get the taste of her dirty panties out of his mouth! He took a deep breath, looking at Kimberly once before closing his eyes, and getting ready to feel Brenda’s lips!

He heard some rustling, and then something big, meaty, and slightly sweaty pressing on his face. Somehow, he knew without even opening his eyes that it wasn't Kimberly's butt. Brenda giggled. "Okay, Kimberly, hurry up and take the picture, before I feel too bad for him!"

Billy pulled at his arms, incredibly frustrated to be bound as he felt something warm and moist pressing against his face, smushing him back against the bleachers! Were they getting blackmail on him!? He knew that it was Brenda’s ass, slightly smothering him!

He heard the snap of a phone camera and more laughter. Then, Kimberly egged "Okay, now try just one fart." Brenda strained, tensing up, but all she could produce was a gentle squeak and a little burst of eggy air into Billy's face. Kimberly sighed. "That's it? Let me show you how it's done."

Billy felt her ass smushing against his face! He tried to shimmy down, feeling her ass tense up, clamping down on his nose as a small little whiff of her gas burned his nose! He kicked his legs, desperate for this humiliation to end!

Brenda's butt was smaller than Kimberly's, but still big. She peeled it off, leaving a red mark where the boy's face was, and pulled her pants back up. Kimberly leaned down in Billy's face, giving him gentle slaps on the cheeks and pulling at his eyelids. "Well? Snap out of it. Aren't you gonna thank Brenda? Aren't you grateful you got to kissy kiss the pretty girl you like?"

Billy gasped, as Brenda peeled her bare, sweaty ass off his face! He chest rose and fell rapidly as Kimbelry got in his face, slapping his cheeks making them sting and bringing him out of his breathless haze! “Oh erm um…” he trailed off, not entirely sure what to do. “Um thank you?”

Brenda shook her head and Kimberly laughed. "See? I told you I could get him to thank you for farting in his face. What a complete pushover! I could do anything to him. Hahahaha. Hey, Billy, can you guess what me and Brenda had for lunch, or do you need more samples? Because my cheeks are nice and sweaty, and I could use a good seat."

Billy’s face flushes even more read as Brenda and Kimberly laugh down at him. He didn’t get a good enough fart like last time to know exactly what Brenda had eaten earlier! “Umm ham and cheese?” he asked, desperately hoping that he got it right!

Kimberly simply smiled and walked over slowly, pushing Billy down to lay on his back. She tugged her pants down, struggling to get them around her huge cheeks that spilled out, clammy with sweat, and slowly squatted over him, lowering herself down inch by inch until she was hovering over his face, bare. "Now, you better be ready to take biiiiig sniffs and get it right, okay?" She plopped down, smothering his face in a dark sweaty chasm. He felt a deep rumble, and a pungent smell filled his whole pocket of air. "You better speak up down there! You're not getting out until you guess right!"

In his bound state he was helpless to resist as he was pushed down onto his back! He looked up, a horrified look on his face as he sees Kimberly’s ass spill out from her pants, glistening with sweat as it slowly began to descend towards his face! Before he even touched it he could smell the musk and feel the heat radiating off her ass! He took a deep breath of that musky air as he was plunged into darkness as her sweaty cheeks spread easily over his whole head! He was helpless as his body wiggled a bit, trying to get used to the incredible smothering weight on his face, a futile task!

The first blast was just a teaser. Once he was settled in, she grunted and released a deep rumbling explosion, almost suffocating the poor boy. "That should be a good sample for ya. Sniff it up, go ahead, guess what we got from the food stand. You don't have all day, you might run out of oxygen."

To be continued?

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scuttle-buttle · 3 years ago

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WC: 2261

Rated: M

Tags: angst, medical issues, pregnancy complications, hurt/comfort, anxiety, brief mentions of medical procedures but no gore, nothing is technically sad, fluff, papa laszloooo

A/N: honestly tho I am sorry. also i maybe cried a little writing this, which is a first. also also everybody is fine in this it's just emotional

Blame @hardlyinteresting

🧠

"Three weeks…. Three weeks little bean…" you mumble as you rub your protruding stomach after a particularly harsh kick to your ribs. The chair was a sweet relief to your ankles after a long day at work and doing some light chores around the house all afternoon. You had three weeks until you hit 39 weeks into your pregnancy. As much as you were anxious you were ready. Ready to not feel like a bloated whale. Ready to not have sore feet. But most of all, ready to hold your baby girl.

Laszlo had been trying to convince you to take it easy and start maternity leave early, but you resisted. The last thing you were about to do is nothing. Most first pregnancies went late anyway, you'd argued, so you didn't worry about it yet. I’m pregnant, not dying - give me another week, you'd told him.

What you didn't tell him was about the headaches. Or how sore your legs were. Or how absolutely exhausted you'd been feeling the last couple weeks. Whenever he would ask if you were alright or offer a foot rub you would just brush it off as third trimester woes. You didn't want to worry him.

You were sat in an armchair in the parlor, feet propped up, damp rag over your eyes. The droning from the tv had your nerves on edge. All you wanted to do was take some tylenol and feel better, but you had been knocking back more than was probably safe the last few days so you went without.

A sudden pain shoots through you causing the rag to fall onto your chest. “Ohh...ow? OW!” You sit up straighter as the ache persists; the dull throbbing in your upper abdomen unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. Were you in labor early? Did she just kick in a bad spot? No no - surely the pain would’ve died down by now had that been the case. Unless? Can babies kick so hard they rupture something? Did my kid just bust my liver? Your thoughts run rampant as you wait, in vain, for the pain to go away. The pricking behind your eyes and in your temples only made it more hellish. Pressing your palm to the spot does nothing, nor do the breathing exercises you had been taught.

When five minutes have passed by without relief you make the choice to call out for your husband. “Laz?” No response. “Laszlo!” A beat passes; nothing. You swallow through your building nausea.

“I swear to fucking-” you growl as you snatch your phone from the end table to your left. You use all your concentration to dial his number.

It rings four times.

“Bärchen, why are you call-”

You don’t let him finish. “Something’s wrong.”

______

Head thrown back into the flat, starchy hospital pillow you groan in frustration. “permanent bedrest?” You scrub the hand not clutching your belly down your face.

The emergency room Obstetrician gives you a pitying look. “I’m afraid so - your blood pressure is high and we want to keep it under control to prevent outcomes such as pre-eclampsia. I recommend doing as little as absolutely possible; get rid of as many stressors as you can.” He flips through your chart. “You said you’ve been having headaches and fatigue for nearly two weeks? Why didn’t you come in sooner?”

Huffing, you tell him “I thought it was just part of the third trimester. Everyone always complains about how bad it is.” He hums in response.

“Well. I’m going to go take a final look at your labs, make sure everything else is fine before we discharge you. I’ll send in my Nurse Practitioner to give you the run down and anything else you’ll need to know. And should anything else like this happen again - get in here immediately.” He pats you awkwardly on the hand before nodding at Laszlo and leaving the room.

Laszlo.

Sparing a glance from the corner of your eye you see him looking towards his lap, his weaker hand cradled in the other. He’d been quiet since you admitted when your symptoms had first begun. Every single time he’d asked you how you were feeling you had lied to him. Granted, you didn’t technically know you were lying. But it makes little difference when you’re sitting in the ER. He had every reason to be upset.

“Laszlo honey,” you reach over to him. Slowly he takes your proferred hand and stands, coming to stop beside the bulky bed frame. His thumb caresses your wrist.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve examined the signs, kept a better eye on you.”

“Laz-”

“-No-”

“-I didn’t want to worry you, okay?-” Your voice breaks as you defend yourself.

“-I could’ve done something, maybe- I don't know!” His slightly raised voice startles you quiet. The pain in his eyes only makes you feel guiltier. He licks his lips. “I took the liberty of calling your mother. She will be here tomorrow afternoon and will be staying in the guest room as long as we need her.”

Now you look away, indignant. “I don’t need to be watched like I’m a child.” The tears behind your eyelids rush in; a lone drop trailing down your cheek as the embarrassment settles within your gut. You knew that at some point it was likely you would need her here. However you imagined it to be under happier circumstances. A deep inhale fails to calm your sobs. “I just- I don’t want to be a burden with all this.” Your tears flow freely now.

“My dear you could never be.” Laszlo sits on the edge of the bed. He rests his right palm above the swell of your child, his left cupping along the curve of your jaw. He tilts you to face him. “But the health of you and our girl is what is most crucial now. Let us take care of you. Please.”

A gentle kick underneath his palm from your daughter is answer enough.

__________

Two weeks. 14 days.

Lying in bed, sitting in the same spot for hours on end was actually going to be the death of you. You were sure of it.

Your mother truly has been a huge help since arriving. Laszlo wanted to start his paternity leave, but you insisted that he stay until you were closer to your due date. Which couldn’t come fast enough, you might add. Both Laszlo and your mother were prone to pestering you about some things, but at other times if you truly wanted to be alone they gave you your space. Now was one of those times. Laptop to your side, you watch another episode of Grey’s Anatomy. A knock sounds. You turn to see your husband standing in the doorway, the blood pressure monitor in arm.

He gives you a bright smile. “How are you two on this fine afternoon?”

“Cut it with the attitude, bucko. Let’s get this over with.” The words, while harsh, had little bite to them. His brow raises but he says nothing. You honestly felt bad that you’d been in a pretty foul mood since being discharged. On more than one occasion you’d said as much to Laszlo and your mother - they didn’t deserve your ire. Thankfully they understood why you were so frustrated.

You held the strap in place as he secured the velcro and started the machine. Buzzing filled the overall quiet room. Closed eyes you wait. Some days your results were higher than others. Unless you became higher than a certain threshold the doctor said you were safe to be home. At the sound of a beep Laszlo unhooks the cuff, reporting that your levels are within the acceptable range. When he goes to leave you alone you clutch at his sleeve. He waits as you peer up at him. “Stay?”

He never could say no to you.

______

Little bean’s ruthless treatment of your bladder had you up for the second time that night. You waddled to the bathroom to attend to your business and wash your hands. Glancing at the circles under your eyes in the mirror you sigh. “I love you baby bean but you’re giving me a run for my money here, kid,” you whisper as you rub your stomach. Three days, you remind yourself.

The floor creaks as you shuffle back to bed. Suddenly, an odd warm trickling sensation travels down your legs. “What the fuck?” Looking down around your bulging bump you find yourself standing in a small puddle, the glint of the bathroom night light reflecting off the surface. “Shit okay…ah Laszlo? Hey, I need you to wake up.”

He grumbles. With a roll of your eyes you walk over and shake him awake. “Hey- what-” he sits up instantly and blinks at you. “Is everything alright?”

“My water broke.”

He hops into action right away. Moving you to sit on the bed, he pulls out his cell phone to call your doctor. As he talks you watch him move around the room, the phone wedged between his ear and shoulder, as he collects your hospital supplies. You feel useless as you sit. Yet, you know that your priority needs to be keeping yourself calm and that moving around could exacerbate your condition.

He hangs up. Coming to stand in front of you he presses a kiss to your forehead; “I’ll go wake your mother. Don’t move, Liebling.”

As you sit you blow out a long breath. You look down at your bump. “Guess you decided you’re ready to go, huh kid?” The tip of your fingers brush along the side of your stomach. “I know we’re ready for you too. We’re going to love you so much, and your daddy? He’s gonna be the best, you’ll see.” Placing your palms flat she nudges you from within.

_____

The doctors decided that a c-section was the safest route. You both knew it was a possibility, but you had hoped that after weeks of bedrest that your blood pressure would balance out enough for a natural delivery. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. They monitored you for an hour before your contractions began, officially confirming you were in fact in active labor and dilating. After the fourth hour your blood pressure began to spike again. That’s when they decided to prep you for the procedure.

The operation went smoothly. The atmosphere of the surgical suite was tense with your nerves, but Laszlo’s calming words and his hand squeezing yours kept the anxiety from spilling over. You even found it in you to poke fun at how ridiculous he looked in the puffy blue elastic hair cap he wore.

When the first cries rang out you nearly tried to hop off the table to see your baby. The doctors worked quickly to ensure you were in proper condition while the infant was cleaned.

“Dad? Would you like to come and cut the cord?” one of the nurses calls out.

Laszlo looks back at them before turning to face you. He searches your eyes for a moment; “go,” you nod with a smile. You watch as he did what the nurses instructed as best you could, her soft wails echoing in the small room. He returns to you right after while they finish wrapping her up in a blanket.

“She’s beautiful my dear,” your professor confesses. He leans to give you a lingering kiss. “I’m so unbelievably proud of you.”

“I love you so much.”

“As I love you.”

The doctor interrupts your moment. “Would you like to hold your baby girl?” The question is directed at you, but you look over to your husband. The man you love more than life itself. He stares at the little bundle as if she’s the most incredible sight he’s ever laid eyes on. He can’t take his gaze off her. His irises sparkle with unshed tears as he looks on with wonder.

“Laz?” Finally he breaks away. “Hold your little girl - she’s been waiting to meet her Papa.”

Carefully the doctor shifts his hold on the babe to slide her into Laszlo’s waiting arm. He swallows as he pulls her to his chest. Something caught between a sob and a laugh leaves him. You blink through your own tears at the sight of your husband and daughter, a sight so far beyond perfect there could be no words. Laszlo held her with such delicacy, such reverence. It was as if any moment she could slip away as though a dream.

“Hello there my little dove, I’ve been waiting a very long time to meet you.” He doesn’t bother to wipe away the streams that fall from his eyes. “I’m your Papa and I-” he sniffs, looking towards the ceiling and blinking rapidly to clear his eyes. You rest your hand on his bicep. “I love you so very much. I would give you the world if I could. Your grandfather didn’t...he was not....” he pauses to gather himself. “To me you are the greatest gift I could ever receive. I will be the best father I can for you. A father worthy of you. Mein Gott, Ich liebe dich my darling dove.”

He continued to hold her in his arms until it was time to take you into the recovery room. When he had asked if you wanted her you simply shook your head. You would get your chance, you had a lifetime to do so. But your Laszlo needed this. He needed his little dove.

Tag list

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mommyemilyprentiss · 3 years ago

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another blurb that no one asked for!!!!:)

Pairing: Dom!Spencer x Fem!Reader

Warnings: daddy kink, spanking, crying, implied overstimulation, mention of color system and safe word (but not used), degradation

a/n: this is a rare dom spencer moment bc sub spencer lives rent free in my mind. uh i don’t believe spencer’s a dom let alone a daddy dom or a hard dom, so this is strictly for my own fantasy lol. i’m also very much hoping that emmy doesn’t see this and come for my throat HAHAHHAHAHHAHA

You knew what you had done. Packing skimpy clothes in your go-bag, flirting with local officers, and sharing a room with Emily so that he couldn’t even do anything about it for 2 weeks. You knew you were in for it. And you’d be lying if you said that wasn’t your end goal.

Spencer didn’t say anything to you the whole ride from the tarmac all the way to your guys’ apartment. When he unlocked the door, you stepped inside and looked longingly at him, desperate for any kind of attention. He paid your puppy dog eyes little to no mind, walking past you.

“Bedroom.”, he ordered as he began unlacing his Converse.

You hung your head low in faux disappointment on your way there. You figured he wanted you to strip beforehand, because he always did, so you rid of all your clothing just in case. Even when he entered the room, he had no visible reaction to your bare form on the bed, retrieving something from the closet in silence. His silence made everything more erotic and unsettling at once, which he, of course, knew. He kept his hands behind his back to conceal the item from you as he stepped closer to the bed. Suddenly, your weight was swept from below you as he, quite literally, threw you over his lap. And as soon as the leather paddle touched your skin, it really settled in how utterly fucked you were.

“N-no...”, your voice came out far more broken than you wanted.

“No? I thought this was what you wanted?”

“No! No, p-please...”

“What’s your color, Y/N?”

“Green.”, you muttered.

“Good. And your safe word?”

“Lilac.”

“And you’ll use it if you need it?”

“Yes.”

Spencer didn’t respond verbally. Instead, he stopped rubbing over your skin with the paddle. Lifting it and smacking your ass hard.

“Ow, Daddy!”, you mewled, writhing around with tears already brimming your eyes.

“Be quiet, princess.”, it was more so a warning than an order, “and hold still.”

He wrapped one of his arms around the small of your back to pin you down before landing another hard smack. You felt a few tears slip down as you sniffled.

“Crying already, hm? We’re not even close to done, sweetheart.”

His words only egged your tantrum on as he alternated the intensity of his spanks. When you got to around 20 hits, your pleas had been dumbed down to broken moans and sobs.

“What do you say?”

��T-thank you, Daddy--”, you choked out.

“You’re welcome, baby.”, he pushed your hair behind your ear, placing a quick kiss on your temple, “Gonna make you feel good now, ok?”

You nodded absent-mindedly, mind hazy. Spencer wedged his hand between your legs where you were practically dripping down them, “Aw, I know you love punishments, puppy. You just like making a big scene, huh?”

You couldn’t respond as he circled your clit, weeping into the sheets.

“Such a pathetic little thing.”, he admired while slowly pushing one finger into your pussy. Your head shot up in pleasure.

“Ah! Feels s-so...good, Daddy!”

“Good enough to make acting like a whore worth it?”

“No! Mmf! M’sorry!”

“You better be.”, he forced another finger into you, starting a brutal pace. You squirmed and moaned out for him as he curled his fingers to hit the perfect spot, still rubbing your clit.

“Is the slut going to cum for me?”

“Y-yes, Daddy! Please can I cum, please?!”

“Go ahead.”

You coated his fingers in your release with a scream of his name as he worked you through your high--or so you thought. Even after you had come down, he maintained his pace.

“Sp--Spencer?!”

“You wanted attention so badly, you just couldn’t wait. Well, now you have my undivided attention. And you’ll take what I give you like a good little girl, isn’t that right?”

taglist: @spencereidsupremacy

fill out my taglist form here!! and let me know what you thought in my inbox!!

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iyumeu · 3 years ago

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but a wolf in sheep's clothing

...is more than a warning ♡

a more lighthearted companion of my yandere obey me fic spirit guardian featuring: a more violent, assertive (aggressive) MC premise: MC gets hurt by bullies. their demons get upset. MC realizes that they have the power of friendship and also incredible violence on their side. this is the origin story of lucifer's migraine. cw: uh not much, there's just a mild fight scene and also MC might have killed someone? probably not though.

⭒☆━━━━━━━━✿Ꮚⓛ ‸ ⓛᏊ✿━━━━━━━━☆⭒

From the very beginning you had known that you were being bullied.

It was definitely nothing you couldn't handle. Acidic rumors, ruined belongings, isolation... Things that you thought you left behind in high school. You should've known that hell was just another version of high school, except it went on for eternity.

Everything came to a head, however, when some of the demons tried to bring you to a shady place and you refused. You knew what a tertiary location was, and you wanted no part in it!

The demons weren't happy with that and almost broke your arm but you managed to wiggle your way out and run off before any further damage could be done. Unfortunately, the blue-black imprints of their grip remained starkly visible on your hand, causing a large commotion to happen over dinner.

Mammon had been the first one to notice the bruise on your arm and immediately flew into a panic, grabbing you by the shoulders and shaking you vigorously. You held back your urge to wrap your arms around him tight enough to break his spine. He held your best interests at heart.

Once Mammon was content with the amount of shaking he had done to you, Belphegor was next, pulling your arm over to him and tracing a finger over the bruised skin. Beelzebub was sitting next to him, leaning over to catch a better glimpse of it. It was like none of them had ever seen a bruise before.

There was a sudden, loud crash and your head shot up to see Leviathan on his feet, bristling in anger in his demon form as his tail whipped around behind him. His chair was overturned, the source of the noise. Beside him, Satan was in his demon form as well, the cutlery in his hand bent and distorted from the strength of his grip.

"Who hurt you?"

Asmodeus was still seated with a smile on his face, but his eyes were glowing slightly, gaze fixed upon you as he asked his question.

"It was just some demon," you replied flippantly. "I don't know why but they seem to have it out for me."

"You mean that this isn't a one-off?" Lucifer asked. You shrugged.

"It's the first time things have gotten physical, if that helps," you offer. Lucifer closed his eyes with a sigh. Oh no, you knew that sigh. The I'm-not-angry-I'm-just-disappointed sigh.

"Why didn't you tell us?" he asked.

"Well, I told the teacher. They just told me to deal with it on my own." A low growl sounded throughout the room. You quickly continued before a fight broke out or something. "I also didn't want to be a bother, you know? It didn't affect me at all, honest. Most of the time, I just thought they were really funny."

"Did you..." Satan took a deep breath and the smile on his face stabilized. "Did you never think about getting revenge?"

"Oh. I was allowed to get revenge?"

Seven pairs of eyes turn to you.

"Yes?"

"Huh. I thought that I needed to be tolerant and shit because I was a representative of the human world. Okay. Good to know. Anyway, it won't happen again, I can assure you that."

Uncaring of the tension surrounding you, you went back to your food, knowing that if you appeared calm enough, your demonic housemates would follow suit. And sure enough, on your third forkful of demon's hair pasta, they all calmed down and continued their meal. Little did they know, it was the beginning of the end.

But not for you! ♡

⭒☆━━━━━━━━✿ᏊⓛꈊⓛᏊ✿━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Mammon was sticking awfully close to you today, as was Beelzebub. They flanked either side of you like a pair of underworld bodyguards, rarely allowing you a moment to yourself. No matter where you went, one of the demons brothers would be either with you or in the general vicinity. Even Leviathan had gone to school, and it wasn't even mandatory for him!

You felt loved and protected and also incredibly frustrated. However, all good (?) things eventually came to an end and your demonic housemates could not look out for you forever.

It was lunch and, despite their best efforts, all of the demon brothers had been called away for one thing or another, leaving you alone to poke at your devil chili salsa potato wedges in the lunch hall. You waited for a bit and, as expected, the trio of demon schoolyard bullies appeared in front of you.

"Looks like your demon bodyguards are nowhere to be found," the lead demon mockingly. "And here you are, all alone and vulnerable."

You stabbed one of the potatoes and brought it to your mouth. It wasn't as good as Mammon's cooking but it was still better than Solomon's.

Frustrated at your lack of a response, the demon standing to the left of the lead one kicked your table, almost sending your metal food tray skittering off the edge. You quickly catch the glass of juice that did fall off the edge, fortunately without any spillage.

"Human, are you even listening?!" they snarled.

"Yeah I am," you replied. "I just didn't know what to say?"

One of the other demons grabbed at your arm and pulled you up to a standing position. It was the same arm that contained the bruises from yesterday and the rough treatment made you wince. They gave a snort of derision in response.

"Not so proud now, huh?" they sneered. You searched your memory for the words you used to say when you found yourself in such situations.

"Are you trying to harm me?" you asked, loudly. The cafeteria of demons glanced at you but otherwise turned a blind eye, as they always did. It didn't matter though, all you needed was for them to have heard your question, and the bullies' answer.

"I'm not trying," the demon said. "I am hurting you. And I will until you—"

With your free hand, you grabbed the glass on the table and smashed it against the demon's face. The glass shattered on impact and the demon reeled, letting go of your arm in the process. You wasted no time in picking up your chair and swinging it against the demon with full force and they flew into the, thankfully, empty tables beside yours.

"You— Get the human!" the lead demons snarled. You picked up your lunch tray and harshly brought it down onto the head of the demon charging at you. It impacted the demon's skull with a loud 'clunk' and the demon started to scream and claw their face. It appeared that some of the chili extract had gotten into their eyes. Oops.

You couldn't waste any time, though. The last demons, the lead demon, was fuming and making their way towards you. Lightning quick, you leapt onto the table and aimed a kick at their head. To your utmost surprise, the kick scored and the demon fell onto the ground. You jumped off the table and landed right onto the demon, making them shout in pain. Huh. The teacher wasn't joking when they said that that even you could deal with demons like this.

Still, you had to make a Statement. You had to reforge your Status in Demon High School as someone not to be messed with so as to deter any further bullying attempts.

So, you grabbed the demon below you by the collar and dragged them to the window. You hurled it open and then shoved more than half of the demon's body out of the window so that you were the only thing keeping them from a nasty drop.

"Wanted to bully the human, huh?" you asked. Your voice held no malice or anger. "Well, you should have killed me instead. Anyway, I hope you won't be bullying me, or any other human, ever again?"

The demon was whimpering, casting nervous glances at the ground below. Huh. You had a perfect quote for this, didn't you? You couldn't believe that an entire edgy teenager phase spent memorizing quotes you thought were cool would ever pay off like this.

"Perhaps you should worry less about gravity, who has already made up its mind about killing you, and more about me, who's still mulling it over."

The demon started to shake.

"I won't do it again!" they shrieked. "Please, let me off!"

You were going to pull them back in — you weren't going to kill them, that was illegal — when a loud shout startled you.

"MC?!"

You whirled around to see your demonic housemates standing around the entrance of the cafeteria, all staring at you with varying degrees of shock. With reflexes honed from years of getting into trouble due to fights, both of your hands shot up to either side of your head.

"It was self-defense, I swear!" you blurted out. Behind you, there was a scream that gradually got softer. Ah. Well. They were a demon and there was, like, a pond below. They would survive.

Probably.

#obey me x reader #iyumeu writes om #look idk what else to tag this #crack? it's mostly like self-indulgent #based on my personal obey me mc named kou #kou 'if you want to bully me you'd better fucking kill me while you're at it' omoc

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wildernessuntothemselves · 4 years ago

Text

I’m Yours, You’re Mine | 2

Word Count: 2.6k

Genre: Smut, future angst

Summary: You’ve always wished to take a more dominant role in bed, but Chan just wasn’t having it. So when you see an opportunity to do just that with Felix, you can’t help yourself. But you soon come to regret your drunken decision for a reason other than that you’d cheated on your boyfriend with his own bestfriend.

Warnings: Cheating, justifying cheating (badly), yandere!felix, sub!felix, dom!reader, reader tries to pressure chan into subbing, felix getting pegged in a kitten maid outfit, excessive use of whore and slut and noona, degradation, felix messy

Gif Credit

It was a mistake. You had decided. You were both too drunk and horny to think it through and it was best to forget it all.

Felix, however, refused to drop it which really only cemented in your mind that it’s the right decision to stop this thing before it starts. If he’s kicking up this much fuss about it and you’ve barely done anything, what is he gonna do if you got more involved later? No, it’s over and you’d told him as such. You don’t want him and it had been a mistake.

But at night, when you’re all alone with your thoughts after chan had fucked you and gone to sleep, you can’t help but think of the freckled boy and how he had followed your every order so obediently. You touch yourself every night to the memory of it, how good he sounded touching himself for you. It has become a sort of escapism for you, a way to let out your frustrations every time Chan doesn’t let you take the lead.

It pissed you the fuck off, how condescending he’d sound when telling you to ‘stop messing around, babygirl’ as he proceeds to pin you down and fuck you from behind. Still, you keep trying because maybe if he’d let you have this, you wouldn’t run to other men to satisfy your needs.

"Baby, take a look at this." You call out to Chan who was sitting on the chair next to you, turning your laptop screen towards him so he'd see the costume you were looking at, a cat maid outfit for men. He scrunches his nose at it and laughs, "That's certainly something."

"You don't like it?" You pout and he looks at you incredulously. "You do?"

"I don't know.” You shrug, once again feeling ridiculed. It’s not like you haven’t worn a schoolgirl or a sexy nurse outfit for him before when he’d asked. “I just think you'd look cute in it. And with halloween coming up and everything--"

"I’m gonna stop you right there, baby. Absolutely not."

"Why not?" You whine like a child.

"Because it's embarrassing!"

"But it's halloween, it’s supposed to be crazy. No one will care, they might even like it. I’d really like it.."

"No. Pick something else." He deadpans but you keep pushing. "But I want this!"

Chan gets off his chair and sits on the couch next to you, grabbing your jaw and pulling you close to his face. “Baby, I’m a man, not a toy for you to play with and dress up as you please. You never mentioned any of this stuff before and you can’t just drop this on me now and expect me to do what you please.”

“But why can’t you at least try?”

“I’m not interested.” He answers slowly, emphasizing every word. "Now stop pressing or I'll put your pretty little mouth to better use."

____________________

You’re standing alone in a corner, nursing your drink as you watch the party-goers mingle and have fun, when you suddenly feel someone wrap their arms around you and press up their body against your back. You don’t flinch, already knowing who it is.

“Hey, baby, wanna go out for a bite?” The stupid pickup line only serves to make you more annoyed at the boy behind you and you wince as he digs his fake fangs into the skin of your shoulder. Shrugging the man off, you turn to face him. “I thought strong women made you flaccid.”

The sour smile on his face only lasts for a second before it turns patronizing. “That’s not true. I was very into Kim Possible.” He cups your cheek and leans down close to your face, his nose touching yours. “But I’d fuck Shego too.”

You push his hand away and step back, stopping the kiss he was going for. “Sorry, but this Shego isn’t interested in getting fucked.”

Chan rests his hands on his hips and lets out a heavy sigh. “How long are you gonna stay mad at that?”

“How long is your fragile masculinity gonna keep you from satisfying your girlfriend in bed?”

He steps towards you angrily, getting all up in your face again. “Don’t you dare! I always make you cum.”

“So? I can make myself cum just fine on my own. But what I actually want from you, you’re not giving to me.”

“You’re fucking unbelievable.” He yells, face turning red as he prepares to launch into his own angry rant when something catches his eyes and he bursts out laughing. “Oh, for fucks sake.”

You look at him in confusion and he grabs you by the shoulders and turns you around. “Take a look at Felix, honey.” He murmurs sardonically.

With narrowed eyes, you search for the blonde among the crowd of people gathered at your apartment, wondering why Chan was stopping your oh-so-important argument for this. But when your eyes land on him, they blow wide open. Felix is dressed in the exact outfit you’d shown Chan wished earlier, complete with the cat eats and the little bell around his neck. He looked perfect.

“Look at how ridiculous he looks.” Chan’s voice cuts into your thoughts as he leans down to jeer in your ear. "And you wanted me to look like that. Hey, maybe Lix will bend over and let you fuck him if you ask."

He says it with the most sarcasm and contempt he can muster before shoving you a little bit forward and walking off. But it’s far from a joke to you. There is nothing funny about the gorgeous boy looking like he just came out of your wildest dreams.

With anger and lust mixing dangerously in your veins, you march straight to Felix, and without even greeting him, you grab him by the arm and pull him into the bathroom that was further into the apartment and lock the both of you inside.

Pushing him against the sink, you grab his hair and force him to look at himself in the mirror. "What is the meaning of this?"

“Noona?” He wonders uneasily, playing innocent.

“How the fuck did you get this?”

“I found it on the internet, noona.”

“Oh, you found it, huh?” You scoff, running your hand over the black and white outfit. “You just happened to find the exact same costume I was showing to Chan a few weeks back?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, noona.” He stares at your reflection through his lashes, doing his best to look meek and clueless. Growling, you shove your hand between his legs, grabbing at his half-hard dick and making him squeal.

“Oh, you don’t, do you? You’re such a fucking whore, Felix.” He moans, bucking his hip into your hand. "You know I belong to your hyung and you're just gonna betray him like that?"

He shakes his head earnestly, "No, noona. I’m not trying to."

"Don't lie. Little whore only thinks with his cock." You hiss, letting your other hand fall from his hair to his chest, your fingers roughly pulling at his nipples through the thin fabric covering them.

“Ah--fuck--noona!” He cries, thrusting his dick against your hand more and more. "I'm a good boy. You know that noona."

“Then what is is?” You pull his skirt up to clearly show his now fully hard dick straining against the panties he’s wearing. And when you do, you stop in your tracks.

"Are those my panties?" You shriek, pushing him flat over the marble countertop and flipping the skirt over his ass so you can see the black panties more clearly. “You fucking creep!”

You hook your thumbs under the waistband and yank the panties down, getting even more of a shock when you see what he has under them.

"Shit." You breathe, momentarily forgetting all about the panties as you stare at the pink butt plug wedged snuggly in his ass. When you reach out and tap the base of it, Felix's legs buckle. “Is this part of the costume too?”

He stays quiet, burying his face into his arms and you scoff. "God, you're such a slut." You grab the plug and pull it back, only to slam it back in all at once. His scream is muffled against his arms but he eagerly pushes his hips back into you.

You take a few seconds to get your breathing under control. Once again you can’t believe what is in front of you. You’ve only dreamt about something like this before, but here is Felix giving it all to you without you even asking. How can you resist?

"Don't move." You hiss in his ear, ignoring his little moan of protest as you pull away and step out of the bathroom.

You get what you want from your room as fast as you possibly can before going back to the bathroom and finding that Felix has actually not stayed still, and is now standing up and nervously fiddling with his fingers.

"Didn't I say to not move?"

"I was afraid someone would come in." He mumbles.

“Afraid people will find out what a whore you are, you mean.” You step in and lock the door behind you before you before you show him what you have in the box you just retrieved.

You smile at his gasp when he sees you pull out the strap you own, the one you never even got to show to Chan before. Cocking your head to the side, you stare at the shaking boy. “You’ll let me fuck you, won’t you, Lixie?”

He nods before you even finish your question. “Of course, noona. You can do whatever you want to me.”

You smirk like you expected nothing less than that, but in reality you were riding high off of the fact that he so easily gave into you without you even needing to coax him. It made you wanna give him everything he asks for.

But Felix’s enthusiasm is dampened a little when he sees you putting the strap-on over your costume. Pouting, he asks you, “You’re not gonna take anything off, noona?”

"I don't need to take anything off to fuck you." You reply simply and he lets out an insolent whine. “But I wanna see your body. I never got to see it up-close.”

Your face turns hard and Felix takes a moment to realize the implication of what he just said. “So you’re saying you’ve seen my body before? Have you been spying on me too, you little shit?”

He stays quiet, staring at the floor.

“You’re such a fucking pervert. I ought to tell Chan about all of this.” You push him around to face the mirror again and press his body against the countertop. “The outfit. The panties. The spying.” You grit, taking the butt plug out of his ass and running your fingertips up and down his open hole.

“No, please don’t tell him.” He whimpers, face pressed against the cool marble.

“Why shouldn’t I? He should know what his precious friend is up to behind his back.” You squeeze some lube over your fingers before you push one inside of him. It goes in easily so you add the second one right away, pressing down as you pump your fingers in and out of his ass.

“Nghh--noona--noona!” He squirms under you, hands grasping to find any purchase over the smooth countertop. “Please, fuck me.”

You can’t really deny him for long, already feeling like you could cream your panties just watching him break down under you. As you push the didlo in, he lets out a loud keen that turns into heavy panting as you start rocking your hips into his.

“Thank you, noona.” His voice is garbled and you pull him up by the hair to make him stand up so you can look at his face while you fuck him. He looks like an absolute mess of drool and flushed cheeks, his dick leaking little drops on the floor.

"What a tiny dick you have, Lixie.” You can't help but stare at it and the leather garter belt he has around his thigh with a metallic heart looped in it. Wrapping your hand his wet dick, you start pumping it as you thrust into his ass. “No wonder you can't dom a girl. I probably have a bigger dick than yours."

“I’m sorry, n-noona. Please use me--ahh--however you want.” He sobs, barely able to hold himself up in your arms.

“Use you for what? You’re a complete mess. You wouldn’t be able to satisfy me even if you tried.” You fuck him harder, quickening the pace of your strokes on his twitching dick and shivering at the sounds that fill up the room, from the snap of your hips against his ass, to the slick sound of you jerking him off, to the whiny moans he's letting loose to the tune of the bell in his choker. “But it’s okay, I’ll just think about this when Channie is fucking my brains out tonight.”

Suddenly his face changes, taking on a dark and sinister hue that makes goosebumps erupt across your skin. But you can’t let him intimidate you. If you can’t even dom Felix then Chan is right not to take you seriously. Besides, if you want to keep this going, you have to have him under a tight leash or else he’ll go rogue and expose the both of you.

"What? You have something to say?" You challenge, but he stays quiet, his lips curled into a mean sneer. "You're just a toy for me and if you want me to keep playing with you, you need to learn your place. Is that understood?"

But Felix doesn’t respond, continuing to stare you down through the mirror.

“You want me to leave you high and dry like last time? Because that’s what you’ll get if you don’t back down, kitten.” You warn him, your thrusts turning from fast and hard to slow and deep, and your grip on his cock tightening. “Come on, who is my good boy?”

Finally, he relents, throwing his head back over your shoulder and moaning out, “I am, noona.”

“Prove it or else I’ll have no use for you.” You smatter stinging kisses all over the side of his neck in retaliation for taking so long, and you feel him gulping under your lips. "Come on, little slut, squirt out that cum for me."

“Yes, noona, just need a little more.” He grunts obediently, thrusting his cock up into your closed fist in time with your own thrusts into his ass. "Aahh--noona--fuck---noona!" His hands reach back and his fingers dig into your flesh as he cums, using his hold on you to keep standing upright.

“That’s it. That’s it.” You coo, taking a bit too long before you stop touching him, letting him suffer the pain of overstimulation for a minute, his eyes blown wide as his mouth hangs open as he stares at you with glazed over eyes in the mirror, his cum dripping down your hand and making a small puddle on the floor under you.

“You’ll keep being a good boy, won’t you, Lixie?” You press a soft kiss under his ear that makes him shiver. Letting the tension out of his body, he relaxes back into your arms and closes his eyes.

“Yes, Noona.”

____________

A/N: next chapter is using one of those remote control vibrators on lixie in public uwu oh and making him watch chan fuck reader :)))))

feedback keeps me going and makes me upload faster like this :))))

#stray kids smut #felix smut #sub!idol #dom!reader #yandere!au

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felswritingfire · 4 years ago

Text

April Brain Rot #1

Prompts:

19. Elegant

12. “I gotta admit I’m a little surprised”

(Mafia AU) Vil x Reader

Summery: Vil takes you with him on a “business trip” and you talk to Cater Diamond about the names of alcohol. Specifically, the drink you ordered.

TW: Alcohol; suggestive dialogue

Word Count: 2,508

A note from Fel: I don’t speak a lick of French, so I apologize if the French translations are wrong (I used Google Translate)! So, I hope you can forgive me and that you’ll still have a good time reading it! Enjoy!

“I gotta admit, I’m a little surprised. I never thought someone like Vil would bring… someone like you.”

Your nose crinkled, eyebrows furrowing into an angry v. Your gaze shot from your drink to the man sitting across from you, a lazy smirk on his face as he widened the spread of his legs in front of him. He took a sip from his drink (a beautiful electric blue drink where a slice of lemon was wedged on the lip of the cup). “The hell is that supposed to mean?”

His eyebrows raised and a chuckle shook his chest. “No offense meant-” he leaned his elbows on his knees- “I just meant you’re much more of…” he nodded his head back and forth, seemingly trying to find the word he was looking for. “Of the innocent sort I suppose? Though, I don’t think innocent fits you properly. Not with what you're drinking.”

“Drinking? What’s wrong with my drink?” You look down at the whip cream topped drink that you had ordered after Vil and Rook went inside a VIP room with a man (you honestly thought he was a child at first, he had such a cute baby face and the way his red hair framed his face made him almost look angelic- though your view of him was shattered when he had opened his mouth to reveal quite the no-nonsense tone dripping off of each of his words). You had a feeling that the meeting wasn’t going to end anytime soon and Vil had, afterall, given you free reign to enjoy yourself at the fancy club that this meeting was taking place at; so you got the first drink you saw another patron had that caught your interest. It just happened to be the one that you thought might have something sweet in it.

The man- Cater, you recall- tilted his head to the side, his green eyes shining under the bright lights of the club. “You know what it’s called don’t you?”

You looked at it and back at him, your eyes squinting at him.

“Oh, dear, maybe you are more innocent than I thought.” Cater placed a finger against his lips, a smile threatening to break out on his face. “It’s called a Blow Job, darling.”

Your startled expression throws him into a fit of laughter. You feel your cheeks flush as you grip your drink closer to your chest, eyes darting around the room. “I- it still tastes good.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” His shoulders are still shaking from chuckles and he wipes a tear from his eye before that annoying smirk crosses his face and he picks up the drink he placed on the table somewhere in the midst of your conversation. You frown when he stands up and makes his way around the table to sit next to you. “You know what this drink is called, Sweetie?”

You lean back from how close his face is- you can smell his cologne, something mellow yet expensive. You shake your head.

You realize too late that you have no more couch to scoot away on when your back hits the arm of the couch. You feel sweat pool at the small of your back when his smooth lips brush against your ear. “Sex in the Driveway.”

The tips of your ears burn in a blush. “Oh, fuck off.”

Cater throws his head back and another round of laughter leaves him.

“Why do drinks have to have such weird names,” you mumble. Looking away from him and taking a sip from your drink.

“I don’t know-” he throws an arm over the back of the couch where you’re squished against the arm of it- “but they’re good conversation starters, no?”

You sigh. “I guess.”

Cater hums, drinking from his Sex in the Driveway before asking: “so, why did Vil bring you, anyway?”

I don’t know either. You scowled, tapping your nails against the side of the glass. “Didn’t have a babysitter, I guess.”

“Babysitter?”

“Yeah, Vil usually has these two guys watch over me for whatever reason- probably because I’m friends with him or something-” you suddenly stopped talking when you realized where you were and who you were talking with: a really fancy club, that had velvet red seats and a corner for rich old white men to play croquet, that was owned by one of the seven most influential mob bosses in Twisted Wonderland- Riddle Rosehearts- and you were currently sitting with one of said mob bosses cronies. You glared at him, scowling.

He raised his hands shaking his head. “Hey, now, I’m not gonna go snooping for any dirt on Vil- they’re talking about a pseudo-partnership in there currently-” he nods his head to the heart-shaped doors that the three disappeared to earlier- “I don’t want to do anything to- ah- jeopardize that. Riddle’ll have my head, you know?”

“Good.” You say, taking another drink before continuing, “I don’t know anything anyway.”

“Oh? Aren’t you part of the Pomefior group though? They don’t let just anyone in without some sort of knowledge, you know.”

“Yeah, I know that. Might be because I’m one of the only people he trusts with helping him get ready.”

“Oh,” Cater’s eyes shined at that, leaning against your side. “So, you’re like his personal stylist?”

“Something like that. He always comes to my shop when he has time.”

“You have a shop?”

“Yeah, I own a boutique,” you smile. “Vil usually comes and commissions me for his clothes- always so elegant, you know? Really fun to work on and they just fit him. One of my favorite ones to work on was-” you blink, realization hitting you- “the one he’s wearing tonight, actually.”

Cater gasps, he places his drink down on the table, grabbing both of your hands and shuffling so close to you that your chests almost touch. “You’re telling me that you made that suit he’s wearing today?”

You nod, your cheeks warming once again.

“He’s worn that suit more than once you know? I would do anything to get my hands on a suit like that- it complements his waist so well and the colors-” an almost squeal slips from Cater’s throat as he squeezes your hands- “divine. No one can take their eyes off of him when he wears that thing- well, even without the suit people don’t really take their eyes off of him, but- you get what I mean, don’t you?”

A small drop of pride blossomed in your chest, happy that convincing Vil to let you alter the color pallet had paid off. You nod, “yeah.” There’s a brief moment where you tug your bottom lip into your mouth with your teeth before you say, “you know I do take commissions- I can always make you one for the right price.”

“Really?” He reminded you of a puppy in that moment he was practically vibrating with excitement as he half situates himself in your lap. “You’d really do that for me?”

“Well- again- for the right price-”

“No, they wouldn’t. This suit is one of a kind and I do hope it will stay one of a kind. Isn’t that right, my Sweet Potato?”

“I- Vil! I- the meeting! How’d it go?” You feel the blush creep down your neck and over your chest- Cater whining and pressing against you, lamenting the fact that he’d have to commission you something else.

“Incroyable!” Rook declared from behind Vil (who was still glaring down at you and Cater). “Roi des Roses and Roi du Poison have settled upon an agreement-” Rook wiped an invisible tear away with one hand while he placed the other on his chest- “Belle harmonie.”

“That’s great!” You smile at the small group of men. “That means you guys’ll be friends for a bit, huh? How neat!”

Vil’s brow creased and his lips tugged into a frown- expression caught between concern and frustration. “Who told you-”

“Ah, you’re so cute, (Y/N)-chan!” Cater suddenly wrapped his arms around you causing you to yelp, your face flushing a deeper shade of red. His cheek pressed against yours as he began to chatter: “Did you guys know that they didn’t realize they ordered a Blow Job? I thought they were going to be all hardcore and sexy, but no- they’re so innocent- look at them! Blushing because of a hug!” He laughed squeezing you tighter. “You should really try a Sex in the Driveway next! It’s super yummy, also it’s so aesthetic for pictures.” Cater's voice dropped to a whisper when he added: “even special types of pictures- I have a really nice driveway we can take those pictures at, you know?”

You can feel a scream build in your throat when Vil’s voice- too even, too calm- suddenly cuts in: “I do believe it’s time for us to go. I would appreciate it if you would let my Potato go, Mr. Diamond.”

Cater looks up at him from underneath his eyelashes. “Ah, yes, apologies, Don Schoenhiet.” He lets you go but not before leaving a kiss on your cheek as he grabs his drink and skips away with a wave. “Bye-bye, (Y/N)-chan! See you later!”

You sputtered, feeling like you were going to overheat as you stood on wobbly legs and staggered to Vil’s side. Rook’s fighting the urge to giggle at the situation as the two Dons talk between themselves to wrap up a few loose ends before they nod at one another and Vil is dragging you out the door by your elbow.

The blast of cool air that blasted against your face as the doors opened pulled a quiet gasp from you. Vil still dragging you by the elbow, his expression fixed on the sleek, black limo that waited in front, a boy with purple hair leaning against the side of it. Rook waves to Epel and he nods, opening the door for the three of you. Well, you thought it was going to be for the three of you, instead you watched as Rook waved at you through the tinted window once the door shut and followed Epel up to the front of the car.

You chewed on your lip, patting your lap as silence took up the space between you and Vil. He had his legs cross as well as his arms, glaring down at you. You looked up, with a sheepish smile. “So, the meeting went good, right?”

“It went amazing.”

“That’s good.”

The silence was beginning to seep back in again and you went back to chewing on your lip when you heard Vil click his tongue. “Stop doing that.”

“Sorry.” You felt your face flush.

“What were you and Diamond talking about?”

“I- huh?”

“My Sweet Potato, you know I don’t like repeating myself.” His eyes were unwavering and the sound of wind blowing across the frame of the limo seemed to be so much louder with the way the blood rushed to your ears.

You shrugged. “Nothing too interesting, honestly. He told me what my drink was called- which, I will have you know, was a complete accident that I ordered that thing, ok? I saw some guy had one and it had whip cream, that is it.” You rested your chin in your hand as you slouched to lean against your knee, a happy smile on your face, “and then I got to talk about my shop, so that was really nice.” You blink sitting straight again and looking at him: your eyebrows slightly knitted together and an honest shine in your eyes. “If you're worried that he tried to get some info from me about you guys, I didn’t tell him anything! It wouldn’t have worked anyway-” you look almost proud of yourself as you cross your arms over your chest- “I don’t know anything about what you guys do and I told him that to his face.”

“Anything else?”

You looked at Vil, tilting your head. He didn’t seem angry, more like… mildly annoyed? You weren’t completely positive, but the loosening of his eyebrows said that he was at least calming down from whatever set him off. “He… he asked me why you brought me if I didn’t know anything.”

“Oh? And what did you say?”

“I- I said I didn’t know either, probably because I’m your friend and that you couldn’t find my babysitters,” You chuckle to yourself, patting at your lap again.

Vil blinks at you, before leaning back and covering his eyes with an arm. He sighs.

You look up at Vil, concern suddenly tickling the bottom of your heart. “Vil?”

“What a silly potato you are.” You feel your face burst into flames as Vil shows you his face once again: his expression is raw- pure adoration and something that you never expected him to show you; the smile on his face is not one that is beautiful and perfectly maintained- it didn’t have a purpose- instead, it was soft, something so vulnerable that you could feel your breath catching in your throat. He leaned towards you, his hands finding your cheeks, he gently rested his forehead against yours. You feel your eyes flutter as you smell his perfume: apples and cinnamon. “I brought you with me because I remember you mentioning you wanted to go there.”

You gasp, an excited glint in your eyes. “I did, didn’t I?”

The smile stayed on his face as he leaned back. “Did you enjoy it?”

You nod. “It was just as pretty as I thought it was going to be- but I like your club a lot more. It’s just so much more…” you scrunch your nose and giggle when you feel him begin to play with your hair. “More you.” You nod, proud that you finally found the words you wanted to say.

He pauses in twirling your hair, he breaths a laugh. “‘More me’, hm?”

“Yeah! It makes me feel safe,” you laugh, “It’s like being surrounded by your muse you know?” You smile at him.

Vil pulls you into his arms. You feel him shivering and you wrap your arms around, being mindful not to rumple his suit too much. “Never change, my Sweet Potato.”

“I’m not planning to!”

Another breathy laugh as he brushes his nose against the skin of your neck. Your skin warm with a building blush. You two stay like that: happy, content in each other's arms before he speaks again: “you’re not allowed to converse with Diamond ever again, do you understand me?”

“He’s a potential customer though! I have to talk to him! Also, he seemed like an alright guy-”

“Looks can be deceiving.”

You pull away from the hug crossing your arms, forcing your cheeks to cool down as Vil stares at you with sweet eyes. “That’s not fair. You’re not even my boyfriend.”

“I can change that very easily, Sweet Potato.”

Your cheeks begin to burn as you let out the most pitiful yet happy noise out of your throat.

Thank you for reading!

#twst x reader #twst imagines #twisted wonderland #vil schoenheit #twst vil #vil x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #nonbianary reader #gender neutral reader #x reader #reader insert #writing challenge #April Brain Rot #tw: alcohol #tw: suggestive #cater diamond #twst cater #mafia au #sfw

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yoongis-bread-cheeks · 4 years ago

Text

Hands | jjk

Warnings: ALL sexually explicit lol, vaginal fingering (female recieving), use of vibrator, overstimulation, asking to stop but not using 🚨safe word🚨, light choking, light degredation (use of slut), praise, light dumbification, dirrtyy talk 😚, some pet names (mostly baby), finger sucking, double penetration(?)(fingering and vibrator, both in vagina), squirting.

WC: 1.4k

Genre: Smut 18+. DNI under 18

Summary: porn without plot honestly lol. Just some mindless ol good times 😍

A/N: I haven’t written smut in years, let alone write fanficiton 😫 this shits gonna suck but bear with me

“C'mere, baby," Jeongguk pat the spot between his legs. You slowly crawl towards him, settling between his thighs.

"Safe word is lavender," Rough hands started at your waist and began rubbing over your stomach, occasionally around your breasts. Milky skin contrasted with yours as his hands caressed your torso.

“What’s your safe word?” Jeongguk tests you.

“Lavender,” growing impatient, you whine.

Reaching up to cup your breasts, he runs a finger over your left nipple looking for a reaction. And a reaction is what he got. Lightly mewling under his touch, you pressed into his chest. Fingers trailed up to your lips, pressing against the part.

Immediately accepting, you suckled on his fingers, tongue gliding over his callouses. "Hmm. Gotta prep my fingers for you, but it seems like you're already wet enough for me to wedge my cock in," You felt what he said more than heard, his chest rumbling with low timbre.

Moaning around his fingers, he pulled them out. A string of saliva followed them down to your aching pussy. Pressing two fingers to your clit, you bite back a moan as his they swirled around your button.

"Uh-uh, baby. You're not gonna do that," he scolded you. "I want to hear everything. When I play with your clit, stuff my fingers in your pussy—" Jeongguk slid two fingers in you, making your back arch. "When I split your poor pussy apart with my cock,"

Clenching around his fingers at his words made him groan, as he curled and scissored his fingers in attempts to find your sweet spot. The edge of a spongy like texture inside of you caught his attention as he pressed into the center of it.

"Fuck!" You moaned. Suddenly his fingers curled and he began to thrust his hand in and out of your pussy. The cramping in his hand went ignored, he was only focused on making you cum. Jeongguk was nothing short of addicted to you.

Your pussy was so soft, so warm. The sounds you make and the strings you make him feel only ever egg him on. Always fantasizing about his cockhead stretching you no matter how much preparation was done beforehand.

You were in the palm of his hands and he was afraid you'd slip right through his fingers like sand. The pleasure growing in you felt like a flower becoming ready to bloom. Heavy breaths came from Jeongguk as his left hand came to rub at your clit, making your moans louder.

"Yeah, you gonna fucking cum? Come on baby, cum for me, all over my fingers. Gonna make you beg for me to stop," chaste kisses pressed to your neck as the flower finally bloomed within you.

"Oh, fuck!" You groaned. Soon, the fingers working inside you caused pain. Suddenly causing small shooting pains, you clamp your thighs over his hands. Didn't seem to stop him though.

"Gguk, I — ah — m too sensitive~," you squeaked out, his hands not letting up. "Stop..." attempting to push him away only made his fingers go harder.

"You know your safe word baby," You did know your safe word. And you didn't use it. You’d be stupid to.

Wetness pooled under you, leaving dark spots on the sheets. Jeongguk relished the pornographic sounds you made, the fruits of his labor. Your thighs opened up wide for him, more access given.

"Wanna fuck you dumb, baby. Til you can't think a single thing other than how bad you want to cum again,"

Honestly, you couldn't even hear what he was saying anymore. The only thing you could think about were the fingers inside of you.

A third snaked its way in, burning slightly. Jeongguks hands were way bigger than yours, and you usually only used 2 fingers at most. Jeongguks two fingers already amounted to your three. You'd be embarrassed by the squelching coming from your push if you weren't focused on just cumming again. You grabbed onto Jeongguks forearm covered in tattoos as you pushed your head back into his chest.

“G-god...I'm s-s— ah! — so close," The words you say aren't even intelligible, rather sounding like blubbering.

"C’mon baby. You gonna cum again? I can feel your pathetic cunt begging to cum," Jeongguk growls.

"Please, please, please, pl— oh!" Your third release finally found you, nails digging into Jeongguks arm. His thumb replacing his forefinger as his left hand reaches for your throat. Lightly pressing on the pressure points prolonged your orgasm.

Sounds no longer come from you, instead your vocal cords no longer work. The ability to breathe also stops working, as Jeongguk continues to rub tight circles onto your clit. The pace of his hand doesn't let up.

Jesus fucking Christ. No wonder the man complains about carpal tunnel.

The aftershocks hit you and so does the pain, thighs twitching and trembling. "Good girl. That's a good little slut, huh?" Jeongguk coos in your ear, stamina still going. Pulling out without warning, you whine at the emptiness in you despite having came 3 times.

He leans over to open your drawer, and you assume he's grabbing a condom.

“I actually don't have an con-...." Words die in your throat when you see what he pulled out. Your black vibrator. He was planning on giving you more?

Slouching back on him, he uses the wetness on his fingers to lube up the vibrator. You can't lie, you were intimidated. He had some skill. Bringing the toy down to your needy, sensitive pussy, he swirls it around your ringed entrance.

The sheets below you were undoubtedly soaked. Jeongguk shoved the toy inside of you, eliciting a high pitched moan. But you were in for way more. Once the toy switched on, you knew you were fucked.

"Oh, shit!" Immediately you gasp, hips bucking off the bed. Jeongguk retracts his hand away from you only to slam his palm down onto your clit. A small scream rips from your throat at the sting, but god did you want more.

“Yeah, you fucking like that? You’ve already cum so many times but you want more, don’t you?” Jeongguk taunted, using a condescending tone. In any other situation, you would have slapped him silly

The internal vibrations ramped up from the fact you were still so sensitive. Your eyes, once clamped shut, opened wide when Jeongguk squeezed 2 fingers into your pussy along side the vibrator. When his fingers start curling and uncurling, constantly rubbing against your G-Spot, your mind fully caves in.

His left hand grabs the vibrator and starts making shallow thrusts, sturdily hitting your cervix. Moving wasn’t even an option at this point. Everything in your body had shut down, and Jeongguk loved watching you fully submit to him, fully succumbing. No thoughts crossed your mind that weren’t “Jeongguk”.

The mind numbing pleasure was just at pleasurable to him, even if he wasn’t even recieving it. He was high on your facial expressions, eyebrows furrowed, eyes rolled in the back of your head or crossed, teeth claiming your lower lip.

Feeling the walls around his fingers clench, it was a telltale sign. Except it wasn’t quite what he expected, but was sure as hell welcome. “F-fuck!” You shouted out of reflex, hips spasming.

A stream of clear liquid shot out, and Jeongguks eyes widened. Pulling his hand out, he opted to use his whole hand to swipe back and forth on your clit to prolong it. His own breathing labored as you relaxed back into him. “I was gonna fuck you, but I have to do that again,”

A shit eating grin plastered on his face and you knew, even if you couldn’t see him. Instead of returning to two fingers, three fingers stuff inside of you alongside the toy, making a slight burn tinge your already on fire pussy.

“God, I love this fucking pussy. You’re so goddamn sensitive,” You could only whimper now, it was the only thing that didn’t consume too much energy to do.

Your breathing had no pattern, and your head was practically empty. Occasionally Jeongguk would kiss or bite at your neck, but you couldn’t care to notice when you’ve been fucked open with his fingers for 45 minutes.

After probably only 40 seconds later, you came again. The sensitivity and the extreme stimulation all were adding factors. Chest heaving, eyes drooping. One more small stream of cum shot out, and Jeongguk looked at you like you were Aphrodite.

Absolutely delectable.

Jeongguk let you rest, he knew you needed it. Rolling over, you curled into a ball. He stood up to grab you a water from the kitchen. Once he stands, mini Jeongguk makes himself known. Man sized Jeongguk only frowns down at him.

“Next time, buddy. Next time.”

#jeon jungkook smut #jeon jeongguk smut #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts

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summeric · 4 years ago

Text

close call (m)

pairing: jeong jaehyun x reader (y/n)

summary: you both finally had some alone time at the dorm.... but not for long

genre: smut, fluff, established relationship au

warnings: swearing, unprotected sex, bulge kink, hand kink(?), hinted breeding kink

—

‘fuckkkk, baby girl’

jaehyun moaned out as you bounced on his cock, running his hands from your thighs, up your sides and to your tits. he cupped his large and warm hands over them, earning a whimper from you which in turn made him moan again.

fucking in the dorm was always risky, but as the rest of the members were eating out at a restaurant, you had time for a few rounds. at least, that’s what you thought.

so, here you both were, in his room, on his bed. jaehyun had his own room as 127 had recently moved to a bigger dorm, and, being the lovely members they were, let jaehyun have his own room as they knew you’d be staying over a lot. you weren’t complaining, and neither was jaehyun. in fact, it gave him the excuse to fuck you every time you stayed over.

he was sat up against the headboard of his bed with you in his lap, pillows around him and supporting his back, and one wedged between the headboard and the wall. a little trick you both wished you would’ve thought about sooner. the duvet was strewn out messily around you both. this was one of your favourite positions - it hit the right angles, you got to hold him close and vice versa, and most importantly, you got to see his face. the only downside was that your legs got tired easily, but with him gripping your hips and slamming you down onto his length, it wasn’t a problem.

‘mmmm fuck’ you whined out, burying your face in his neck. both of his hands were now on your ass, gripping it and massaging it which only riled you up more. you moved your hands from his shoulders and looped them around his neck, bringing him in closer and encouraged him to start leaving kisses on your jaw.

‘you’re so good to me baby, fucking yourself on my dick like that’ he murmured in your ear, sending pleasurable shivers down your spine, ‘such a good girl.’

a door slamming was heard from the living room of the dorm, making you whip your head out from where it was nestled in jaehyuns neck, and you looked at him with wide eyes. shit.

‘fuck’, he whispered, gathering a blanket which was thrown messily on the bed, and getting it ready in case he needed to throw it over your naked body. he couldn’t have anyone seeing his baby girl like that. no way. ‘shit. they weren’t supposed to be back yet.’

‘JAEHYUN?’ you could hear johnny’s voice shout from the hallway. you went to climb off of his lap, but he held you in a vice like grip, ‘ah ah ah, stay there’ he ordered. you looked at him worriedly. someone was going to walk in, and it was so obvious what you were doing.

‘JAEHYUN HYUNG, YOU HERE BRO?’ now it was mark’s turn to shout, however his voice was much closer, as it came from right outside the door.

‘ahh leave it mark, they’ll be back soon’, johnny’s voice could be heard again, and this time you heard mark’s footsteps retreating back into the living room.

you let out a sigh you’d been holding, and looked back at jaehyun to find him already looking at you, the lust still clouded in his eyes. you thought your fun was over, but clearly not. almost as if he’d read your mind, he chuckled out a, ‘you really thought I’d give up that easily?’, confirming your suspicions.

‘jaeeee’ you whined, ‘my legs ache’, which wasn’t a lie. you were close to your orgasm, and you’d been working yourself on his cock for a while. ‘there’s a solution to that’, he grinned as he rolled you over, you now lying flat on his bed.

as much as jae loved it when you rode him, he loved it just as much as when you were sprawled out beneath him. you looked so gorgeous and perfect to him. and you were all his. no matter how insecure you were, whether it be your body or your facial expressions, he didn’t care. he genuinely thought you were the most beautiful thing to grace this earth, and you were so thankful for that. he made you feel so comfortable, made you feel so much better about yourself. when you were intimate with him you didn’t have to worry about covering your body or hiding your face, because you believed him when he told you you were gorgeous.

on that note, nothing turned him on more than seeing you squirming below him, trying to get him to finally enter you. and when he did, you both let out simultaneous groans. he stretched you so nicely. filled you up so good.

he started thrusting into you, him on his knees with your legs wrapped around his waist. another position you loved - but let’s be honest, you loved every position with jaehyun because he made you feel so good in each and every one. always knowing which angles to hit and what brought you the most pleasure.

this time was different, however, as you couldn’t moan out as load as you wanted. you now had company a few rooms down. you were trying to surpress your gasps and moans, but it was hard when jaehyun was fucking you so hard into the mattress. he couldn’t tell if he wanted to make you moan so loud the others could hear it. on one hand, he wanted them to know who made you feel this good, but on the other, he wanted to savour those lewd sounds all to himself, not wanting another soul to hear the sexy sounds that fell from your lips.

so he just resorted to pressing his hand over your mouth, which turned you on even more. you’re not quite sure why, but ever since you’ve been with jaehyun, even the simplest and most minuscule things he does turn you on.

a loud roar of laughter from where the boys were watching tv bought you back to reality. the chance of them hearing you made you want to speed things up, and so you trailed a hand down to where he was drilling into you.

on your hands journey across your abdomen though, you could feel the faint bulge of where the tip of his cock was hitting your stomach. pressing your hand flat against your lower tummy, you let out a loud moan into his hand and threw your head back further into the mattress, your eyes rolling back.

‘what’s got you so worked up, huh?’ he lightly chucked at you. you moaned in response, and his eyes travelled down onto your fingers that were sprawled out on your tummy, relishing in the feeling on his cock pumping into you. he pushed your hand aside, replace it with his own and he immediately found his answer.

‘holy fucking shit’, he moaned out, pressing his palm harder onto your abdomen, feeling himself slide in and out of your walls, ‘that’s the hottest thing ever. fuck me’.

your little discovery had you both coming closer to the edge quickly, an ‘I’m so close’ being whispered out by you, and a, ‘so am i, doll’ grunted out by him.

being on the pill was a godsend, it meant he could cum in you without having to worry (although let’s be honest, he’d definitely want to put a baby in you), and so that’s exactly what he did, with you coming at the same time with a loud moan, still muffled by his large hand.

after a quick pee break, you rushed back into bed to join him, missing the warmth he provided your naked body. the tv in his room was still playing in the background, and so you decided to put some random show on, not that you’d be paying attention to it.

he rested his head on your chest, but not before giving you his shirt to wear to make sure you wouldn’t freeze to death in the shitty winter weather. don’t worry though, he still had his hands under it, tracing shapes on your side and on the underneath of your breast. something that he innocently did after sex, finding it calmed you down after he’d just exhausted your body.

‘do you think they heard us?’ you asked him as you carded your hands though his black hair, something that calmed him but also could turn him on.

‘i don’t think so, i can still hear them talking,’ which was an indicator that they hadn’t in fact heard you getting pounded by their fellow member, ‘don’t worry baby, they just have the tv on loud anyway’, he said as he left open mouthed kisses on your neck. not again.

#nct #nct smut #nct 127 #nct imagine #nct scenario #nct jaehyun #jaehyun smut #jaehyun fluff #nct x reader #jaehyun x reader

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heli0s-writes · 4 years ago

Text

crystalline*

A/N: Instead of attending to the rest of my WIPS, here’s 1.6k words of Bottom Bucky and Service Dom reader. Throatfucking. Erm. Cathartic crying.

Warnings: Bucky working out trauma. Please stop reading if you are not 18+

brooklyn after dark masterlist

You teach him how to want things again.

His pieces from the past, the joys he used to have taken too soon— you tell him he can have it all back.

It started with food, predictably. No longer being tube-fed slurry, Bucky quickly embarked on discovering all the new flavors of the 21st century.

Chocolate alone was a month-long passion as he attempted to scrub out the standard issued combat rations haunting his tongue. Chalky cuts like cold pressed gravel— fuck that. The first time you broke off a square of unroasted, dark, sprinkled with Himalayan sea salt chocolate, Bucky’s head hit the back of the couch with a pathetic mewl and a million things rushed through his mind of all the ways he could keep feeling this good.

Sleep came next— something he thought he’d had enough of, but the difference between getting perma-frosted every decade and lying face down in whatever memory foam’s made out of is lifetimes apart.

Bubble baths. Streaming apps. Nice clothes.

Attention and affection. Kisses. Braids in his hair. Tickles for extra laughs. His ego’s in overdrive because he has half a thought about anything and you’re fulfilling it like his personal genie. You say he needs all the dopamine he can get and you’re gonna give it to him.

And you give it to him in spades.

Orgasms. Jesus fucking Christ, he’s spoiled rotten.

Morning sex, afternoon sex, sex before bed. Blindsided in hallways and under conference room tables. The compound pool’s been properly christened more than once, and if Tony ever found out just exactly how many of those precious luxury cars have seen the imprint of Bucky’s ass, he’d set them all on fire.

But, reconciliation comes for him eventually. Spend long enough feeling all good he figures it was about time he starts screwing it up. He turns greedy, he starts wanting for too much. His girl’s an insatiable little beast, but even beasts have limits.

Bucky went shy when he asked, stuttering about how it’s okay if you didn’t—if you weren’t—it’s kinda strange— but you’d put your hand over his and tilted his chin up.

“Bucky,” you said fondly, “Baby,” and then a sweet smile curled over your pretty pink lips like spun sugar, “I’d eat your ass like a five-course meal. I’ll let you fuck me on the moon. What is it, huh?”

He could’ve kissed your dirty mouth silly.

“I want you to use a toy—"

“We do all the time.”

“—on me.”

And that sweet candy pink smile turned red hot and wicked. No limit in sight.

You approach the bed like a fever dream and all the blood in Bucky’s body congregates south.

Nothing on but the 2-day-shipping-because-the-phone’s-a-genie-too leather harness sitting snugly on your hips and a grin. The heaviness between your thighs hangs like both an offering and a weapon.

He asked for it. He wanted it. Just—maybe, to start— can you be rough with him. Then, stuttering once more because he doesn’t know how to justify why. It doesn’t make any sense and it’s hard to say out loud that with all the things you let him have, that after nearly a century of being out of his own body, he… wants to give it away.

He’s messed up, baby. Sick down to his rotten core.

You only shushed him. If it’ll make you happy, I’ll rough you up real fucking good. No why’s necessary.

Fleshy weight brushes against your inner thigh, swinging idly from one side to the other. “This okay?”

“Yeah,” Bucky breathes, still dressed at the edge of the mattress, skin beginning to prickle, nerves taking a hard left into arousal. When your hand finds rough landing in his hair, he thinks he must be the luckiest bastard in the entire world.

Bucky drops on his knees like dead weight, nearly tearing off his clothes, feeling the upsurge of heat in his cheeks and chest. His eyelids are fluttering, your face going fuzzy but he can still see that look of adoration you reserve for him.

He’s pondering if that old saying is true—if there can be too much of a good thing, if he’s become spoiled sick, or if he could overdose on pleasure when you start thumbing the edge of his mouth.

“Pay attention,” you say with a glimmer in your eyes. “Open.”

He’s tingling when you put two fingers in, moving around his tongue, scissoring them against his inner cheek. They explore for a while, bolder each passing second. He can tell you’re getting excited too, your chest heaving gradually, watching him with curious intent.

“You like this?” You ask, lip between your teeth, and Bucky nods, leaning further in, spit following the path of your hand down to his neck. You palm the cock like it’s always belonged to your body and he’s mesmerized at how it rises from your grip, moving over his face to rest on his cheek.

“It’s big, baby.” You warn, full on now. You stroke the outline of his jaw with it, leaving a burning path in its wake. “You sure?”

He quietly likes that you ask—honey-toned and patient, needing to hear it, knowing that he needs to hear it from himself. All those things he’d been made to say with his body and not with his mind.

Now he gets it back, as you said. Gets a part of himself back, too.

“Yes—ah—yes.”

Bucky’s words are slurred into your hand, but he’s begging with his eyes. Yes. I want it. Please let me. Please make me. Please fix me.

You replace your fingers, sluicing up the cock with his spit. Then, you fuck his mouth slow, feeding it to him inch by inch before dragging it away. Bucky’s lips are quivering for more, jaw slack, panting hoarsely. He feels overcome at how you stand over him, mesmerized by him, too.

“Yeah, honey,” you croon, and Bucky’s heart swells with pride. “You’re doing so well, pretty boy.”

He’s licking blindly and sucking between ragged gasps when he attempts to say your name, knowing full well he’ll never get the whole word out before you wedge back into him. And god, it’s hot. It’s dirty and filthy and so fucking sweet.

You grasp the base of his skull, keeping his head still and laying into his mouth rhythmically. The cockhead hits Bucky’s throat, pushing into the soft palate, reaching further. His eyes are rolling, whimpers catching where the toy ends, caught in the breath of air in his mouth.

“Take it, baby,” you command, and Bucky gags. One hand scrambles for your thigh, other clawing his own, pressing red crescents into the flesh. It hurts. It hurts good like it never did before and Bucky chokes it down, eyes squeezed shut now, tears prickling from the ducts and collecting at the corners.

“Oh, you’re so good,” and his body just keeps lighting up. “You good boy. You perfect, perfect boy.” And he’s nodding desperately, needy, gut coiled tight like a spring.

“So fucking dirty,” you hiss, pulling hard on his hair, “Look at you— leaking all over yourself.”

He is. He’s a goddamn mess, sticky lines of precome down his shaft and collecting at his base.

“Drooling all over my cock like this. You’re hungry for it, aren’t you?”

“Uhhngg— hnnng—” He moans weakly at the things you do to him and for him.

“That’s right, you are. Keep going, show me how much you want it.” Jesus, the way you make him feel— like he could be exactly who he is and never have to apologize for a goddamn thing. Broken and ruined but you’d still give him the whole fucking world.

The noises Bucky’s making are muffled and obscene as he fists himself, shuddering and pumping erratically. One more final drive from your hips and he’s bursting at the seams, shattering to pieces, coming with a strangled cry.

You don’t let up, taking his throat unrelentingly, watching him sob and fall apart. He’s going limp in your clutch, letting his eyes well up like pools, your smiling face so beautiful in the crystalline light.

If he’s sick, then you must be the fever he can’t sweat out. The fire burning through his bones until he’s nothing but smoldering bits of debris afterwards. Grains and soot of him floating in the steady flow of your faithful current.

When he’s made a perfect mess of himself, come-covered and quivering, you finally let him breathe again, pulling out wetly.

“There you go,” you say, kneeling to kiss his panting mouth, “Did that feel good?”

Your lips are a cool balm on his swollen ones and Bucky hums a response, body still thrumming. “Yeah,” he sighs, sensitive like a wound, raw and open and tender. “Real— good.”

You rub his back and run your fingers through his hair, letting him rest in your arms. You wipe away the tears on his cheeks and over his trembling eyelids.

Gentle words tumble from your lips. Promises of love and of good memories to replace the bad ones. More kisses. More affection. More reclamation.

All those little granules of fractured time, you collect in the soft surrender of his mouth. Wet and salty, they fall together there, and Bucky feels himself clicking into place. Perfect and whole and treasured like an iridescent pearl.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #smut #bucky barnes #marvel #mcu #reader insert #fanfiction #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you

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taetaesbaebaepsae · 4 years ago

Text

feel like i’m drowning (johnny suh)

Summary: You’ve always had a love/hate relationship with your roommates older brother Johnny, and when he comes to visit the worse for wear, things aren’t any different.

A/n: Commission, I hope you like it!

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: oral (f. receiving), teasing, vaginal fingering, some dirty talk, some possessive behavior, it’s honestly pretty soft for what it is, alcohol tw

Word Count: 5216

It takes a month before what you feared would happen when you moved in with your best friend actually happens.

You love her to death, you’ve been friends since middle school and when she’d gone to college and you’d taken a year off “to explore things” (much to your parents’ chagrin), you’d missed her terribly. So when you finally join her on campus and she has her own place, a house nearby that is falling apart but has three bedrooms and a big kitchen, you’re both excited to see each other.

The honeymoon period can only last so long, however, and you’re well aware of that because for all the wonderful things about your best friend Leah, she has one incredible, fatal flaw.

Her older brother, Johnny Suh.

You’d first met him when you were 15 and he was 17 and you remember how wide your eyes had gotten when he blasted past you on his skateboard, how your face had screwed up in disgust when he’d sat down on the curb and lit a cigarette.

“That’s gross,” you’d said snootily.

He laughed and looked up at you. “Nice to meet you too, princess.”

You’d hated him ever since, carrying around his stupid skateboard all the time and the eternal pack of cigarettes in his t-shirt pocket and his stupid smirk and the way his bangs falling into his face made your heart race just a little.

“Y/n-ah,” Leah says in a sing song voice and you roll your eyes, knowing something is coming.

“What do you want?”

She pouts at you, batting her brown eyes. “Who says I want something?”

“You only call me Y/n-ah when you want something, Leah. You don’t even speak that much Korean?”

“My parents want me to learn, I’m trying!” She insists. “Listen, so...I’m going to head over to Jae’s tonight but I have the slightest problem.”

“I don’t have any condoms,” you say, deadpan, and she smacks your shoulder with the heel of your hand.

“Not that!” She screeches, and then flushes. “I have those. Anyway, so my brother is coming in tonight and I need you to be here to let him in -”

You stop dead, having been washing the dishes, and you almost drop a mug onto the floor. “Johnny is coming?”

“Yeah? I only have one brother?”

“And you want me to let him in?”

“Come on, Y/n, you don’t still have a crush on him, do you?” Leah bumps you with her hip and you sputter.

“I’ve never had a--” You pause and take a deep breath. “Fine, what do I get if I stay and let him in.”

Leah gives you a big smile and blinks innocently at you. ��My eternal love and gratitude?”

You give her a withering look.

She huffs, her smile fading. “Fine, I’ll do your laundry for a week.”

You keep staring, unblinking.

“Fine, a month!”

You grin. “Would have done it for two weeks. You’re terrible at negotiating.”

The rest of the day goes by much faster than you want it to, and part of you wants to take it all back when she gets all dressed up and heads out to her boyfriend’s for the night.

You don’t even know why you’re so nervous, he’s just your best friend’s stupid brother who thinks he’s so fucking cool but he’s not even that cute and-

There is a knock on the door while you’re internally raging on the couch.

“There’s a doorbell, you idiot,” you mutter, but your palms are sweating when you jerk the door open.

He’s rolling luggage behind him with a backpack slung over one shoulder, bangs hanging in his face like always.

“Hey-” He looks down at you and blinks, comically, as if he wasn’t expecting to see you. “Oh. Is that you, princess?”

“Y/n,” you correct.

He nods, still staring, and you huff out a breath and grab the handle of his luggage, ignoring the zing through your hand when your fingers brush his.

You roll it into the guest bedroom and you don’t even realize he’s following you until you turn around and bump into his chest.

“Slow down, princess,” he murmurs, taking your shoulders in his hands and your mouth goes dry.

You let out a long breath through your nostrils and push past him.

“Not gonna give me the tour?” He calls, and you feel like screaming.

“You’re grown, explore on your own,” you shoot back, slamming the door of your room and ignoring his laughter.

You focus on your studies, having an essay due the following morning, so it’s a few hours before you take out your earbuds and stretch, hearing a banging around in the kitchen.

Your curiosity outweighs your frustration with him and you pad your way into the kitchen, now dressed in a pair of yoga shorts and a camisole.

Johnny is reaching in the top cabinet for the bottle of tequila Leah always keeps there for impromptu parties or breakups with her on again off again boyfriend, and you cross your arms, tsking.

Johnny pulls it down and looks at you, smiling a bit sheepishly. “Leah never changes.”

“Neither do you. Must be a family trait.” You sit down at the kitchen table.

Johnny shrugs. “You might be right.”

There’s something about the way he says it, flat and listless, that makes you frown.

“Is something...is something wrong?” You find yourself asking.

He shrugs again, brings two shot glasses over to the table, fills his own and then looks at you with the lip of the bottle poised over your glass.

You nod almost imperceptibly and he pours one for you as well. When he sits down you raise your eyebrows at him.

“You didn’t even get the limes? What the fuck?”

He laughs and watches you head to the fridge and bring out a container of lime wedges to sit between you.

You throw back your shot before sticking the lime wedge in your mouth and biting down, making a face.

Johnny watches you, just a hint of a smile on his mouth.

You scrunch your nose. “What?”

“You grew up cute, princess.”

You cough a little on the tequila. “Shut up and take your shot, you coward.”

He does, shooting it back and then making a face.

You push the bowl of limes toward him and he rolls his eyes and bites down on one.

“Oh. That is better.”

You scoff. “Told you.”

The alcohol burns in the back of your throat, already making your head feel a bit lighter. You aren’t much of a drinker, so it doesn’t take much.

He doesn’t talk much, and that’s unusual, you remember as a kid hanging on every word he said even though you’d disagreed with most of it and brattily told him as much.

“Did something happen back home?” You ask after he takes another shot and you decline one. You tilt your head, concerned.

“Ah, nothing to be concerned with, princess.” When you frown, he looks up and gives you a weak smile. “Nothing to do with Leah.”

You bristle just a little. “I didn’t say I was asking because of Leah.”

“Yeah, well, I figured. You’ve never liked me much, yeah?”

His tone is all flat again, so unlike the teasing lilt he always had, and it just makes you frown harder.

“Didn’t say that,” you insist, stubbornly.

“Didn’t have to,” he says with a chuckle, pouring a third shot for himself and hovering the bottle over your shot glass again.

You don’t know why you nod, you don’t even like tequila, but something about the look on his face, that wry chuckle, makes you cheer him with your shot glass before biting down on the wedge of lime.

He keeps staring at you, propping his chin in his hand, and it’s making your face feel more flushed than the alcohol is.

“So what’s been going on with you?” You ask, to make conversation, and he shrugs again, looking down at his hands. He’s twisting a ring around his index finger.

“Lot of different shit, really,” he starts, and you wonder if he’s finally tipsy enough to tell you what’s wrong. Instead, he looks up at you, eyes trailing along the line of your neck. “You really did grow up while I was away, huh?”

“Don’t be weird,” you mumble.

Johnny laughs, reaches out to grab the bottom of your chair and scoot you closer to him. You squeak when your knee bumps his.

Of course he’s wearing ripped jeans, when is he ever not wearing ripped jeans, and your bare skin against his makes your head feel light on your shoulders.

“It’s true,” he insists. “You always were a pretty princess, but you’re something else, now.”

“You’re not even that much older than me.” You tilt your chin up defiantly.

“I’m still your oppa,” he murmurs, and his face is close, too close, so you clear your throat and pour you each another shot.

It’s another two shots before you’re well and truly drunk and bold, going so far as to prop your legs up on his lap, settling back in the kitchen chair comfortably.

His fingers light along your ankle, trailing up to the back of your knee and back down again casually, as if it wasn’t making your heart beat faster. To your credit, you don’t react, just watch him with half lidded eyes.

“Your skin is so soft,” he mumbles, words slurred around the edges.

You can’t deny that when you were younger, you’d thought about this, imagined what his hands would feel like on your skin, his deep voice murmuring sweet nothings into your ear, even as you hated yourself for it.

Instead of an insult or a witty comeback, you find yourself thanking him for the compliment.

He looks up at you, surprised, and your breath catches in your throat when he lifts one of your legs to his mouth, planting a soft kiss just on the inside of your ankle bone.

“Johnny,” you breathe.

“Mmm?” He smiles against your skin and you wonder if it’s possible for all the blood to rush to your genitals at once.

“Do you want to see my bedroom?”

He looks surprised only for a moment before nodding, and you manage not to stumble when you stand. Your hand feels so small in his when you lead him to your room, and you crawl onto the bed and then turn to look at him with a pout.

He makes a show of looking around, glancing up at the fairy lights stretching across your ceiling. “A room fit for a princess.”

“Shut up and come here,” you say, and you don’t even care that it comes out like a whine.

Johnny laughs and crawls into bed with you and you twist to face him. He loses his smile when you place your palms on his chest.

“Princess...Y/n,” he starts, but you silence him by pressing your mouth to his.

He makes this sound into your mouth, something between a groan and a growl and it makes you clutch at his t-shirt, press your tongue into his mouth.

He kisses you back at first, his hand going to the back of your head and he tastes like tequila and tobacco and all your teenage wildest dreams but then he’s tugging your hair, his other hand on your shoulder to move back from you.

“Y/n, you’re drunk,” he says firmly, running his tongue along his lower lip.

“M’not,” you lie, trying to press in closer to him but his hands are tight on your shoulders, not allowing you to get closer like you want to. You pout. “I want you.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters, and drops a chaste kiss on your forehead before climbing out of your bed even as you protest. “I need some air.”

Anger rises up in you, you’re tipsy and needy and your skin feels hot all over and your head is starting to pound. You throw a pillow at him that he barely ducks.

“Fine! Get out! I don’t need another mistake, anyway,” you spit out and he blinks once, twice, face looking wounded.

“Ha. Okay, then.”

You’ve buried your face in the pillow but you hear how low his voice sounds, how the door closes softly behind him.

You wake up to the sound of Leah yelling.

“Fucking shit, Johnny, you scared the hell out of me! What are you doing sitting in the dark with a bottle of tequila like some kind of --wait is that my fucking tequila?!”

You wince and head to the bathroom to wash your face and brush your teeth, your head aching. You remember taking the third shot with Johnny and then bits and pieces and you’re mortified by what you do remember, the way he’d pushed you away.

By the time you head into the kitchen for a much needed glass of water, Leah has retreated to her room. You gulp down half the glass and you can’t help stepping into the living room, your curiosity getting the better of you.

Johnny is sitting on the couch, not in the dark anymore since Leah had flipped on the light, a nearly empty bottle of tequila nestled between his thighs.

You wrinkle your nose. “You drink all that by yourself?”

Johnny blinks up at you, eyes glassy, before sneering. “What do you care?”

You let out a slow breath. “I’m sorry about last night. I was drunk and I shouldn’t have been...anyway, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. I’m glad you didn’t make a mistake.” His tone isn’t raised, just low and flat like it was last night.

You sit down hesitantly on the couch next to him, perched on the edge of the cushion.

“I didn’t mean that.”

Johnny snorts, not looking at you, eyes fixed forward on the television which is turned off. “Yeah, you did.”

“I didn’t,” you insist, and take his hand, squeezing it so that he looks at you. “I’m sorry,” you say again, softly.

“S’okay,” he mumbles, eyes on your mouth. “Wanted to kiss you for so long.”

You manage not to choke on air, but it’s a near thing. “You...you what?”

He drops his forehead to your shoulder as if he’s tired, and you wonder if he’s been up all night.

“Always thought you were the prettiest princess,” he mumbles against your shoulder and your heart skips a beat.

Your fingers thread through his hair, longer than it had been a couple of years ago when you’d last seen him. “You should get some sleep.”

“Mmm.” You’re not sure if that’s an agreement or not until he shifts on the couch, placing his head in your lap.

You let out a sound, not in protest, exactly, more in surprise, and he frowns when you move your hand from his hair, looking up at you with hazy eyes and taking your hand to put it back.

It’s cute, you have to admit, he’s cute, and he’s breathing slow and even in moments when you start running your fingers through his hair.

Leah raises an eyebrow when she comes through the living room. “So are you not over your crush on my brother yet?”

“Shut up,” you mutter, flipping on the television and putting the volume on low.

Leah perches on the arm of the couch. “He’s been having a rough time lately,” she says softly. “I’m glad you were here for him.”

You feel a pang of guilt rocket through you at her words. “He didn’t say anything about having a hard time.”

Leah nods. “You know Johnny, he doesn’t like talking about his feelings. I think he just thought things would be different for him in Los Angeles but he’s not getting as much traction with his music as he wanted and he was dating this girl….didn’t end well.”

“Oh,” you say dumbly, feeling like scum for how you’d acted last night.

“He’s probably just homesick, it’s why he wanted to come and see me.” Leah ruffles her brother’s hair. “Dumbass,” she says fondly. Johnny barely stirs.

After sitting and chatting for another few moments, Leah heads back out to her boyfriend’s and you stay still, unwilling to get up and disturb him. After you’ve watched two hours of a Snapped marathon, he stirs and sits up, groaning and rubbing his hands over his face.

“Fuck,” he mutters, and you stop him from getting up with one hand on his chest.

“Stay here.” You return in a few moments with a plate of toast and a big glass of water and he looks at you as if you’re the sun.

“Thank you. Bless you.”

You watch him devour the toast and gulp down the water.

“So,” you start, and then trail off, not sure how to approach the subject.

“So?” He doesn’t look up from his plate, mouth full of toast.

You huff out a breath. “So, I’m sorry about last night, but to my credit you didn’t tell me that you were going through something.”

Johnny scoffs. “What would that have accomplished?”

“I would have been nicer!” You hit his shoulder with the heel of your hand.

“Would have been nicer, she says, and then hits me.” He rubs his shoulder dramatically. “Highly suspect.”

You pout but you smile nonetheless. “You can talk to me, you know.”

Johnny looks at you, head tilted slightly. “Yeah? Not like we’ve ever been friends, princess.”

You shrug. “I’m older and wiser now. And over my high school crush.”

Johnny’s eyes widen and you wince at your slipup. “You had a crush on me?”

“Oh, god, shut up. Tell me what’s going on with you.” Your cheeks feel hot and you cross your legs under you on the couch.

Johnny’s grin fades just slightly. “All right, fine, but we’re coming back to that,” he warns, and you scoff.

“Leah said that you were homesick.”

Johnny shrugs. “I guess. I had these big plans, big dreams, and it just….it feels like everything’s falling apart. It’s like I”m drowning, barely keeping my head above water. Like I was better off here, skipping classes to go to the skatepark and flirting with you.”

You ignore his last comment. “No one has it all together after a few months, Johnny. I certainly don’t. I took a year off to find myself and it’s not like I even know who I am yet.” You laugh. “You’ve got plenty of time.”

Johnny smiles. “Thank you for saying that, it makes me feel better.”

“That’s what I’m here for, to throw myself at my high school crush and then make him feel better about his quarter life crisis,” you say dryly.

Johnny grins, eyes lighting up as he leans toward you. You’re close to the same height so his face is close to yours again and again, it makes your heart speed up. He just looks at you for a long moment and you’re so sure he’s going to kiss you until he stands up.

“Hold that thought,” he says. “I’ll be right back.”

You sit there with your mouth open for a moment as he heads out to the porch.

“Johnny fucking Suh,” you mutter. Instead of waiting for him, after a couple of moments you storm out to the porch.

He leans against the rail of the porch, a cigarette hanging from his mouth, those fucking bangs falling in his face again.

“Johnny fucking Suh,” you repeat, to him this time, and he smirks around the cigarette before taking it out and blowing smoke from his nostrils.

“Can’t say that’s the first time I’ve heard that.”

“What’s your deal? You pushed me away when I kissed you last night but then you told me I was pretty and now you…” you trail off. “What do you even want?”

Johnny tilts his head, smoking, as if he’s thinking. “Hadn’t thought about it that much.”

You stare at him, flabbergasted.

“You haven’t--”

He tosses his cigarette, steps closer, and thumbs at your bottom lip.

“Want to kiss you while you’re sober,” he murmurs, leaning forward, and you tilt your chin up just slightly. Instead of kissing you, though, he slips his thumb between your teeth and you bite down gently.

He chuckles low in his throat. “Okay, princess. Point taken.”

Johnny takes your face in one hand, squeezing tight so that your mouth opens and slides his tongue in your mouth, making you whine. It’s maybe the dirtiest kiss you’ve ever had, not much style, just wet and aggressive and it makes your skin tingle all over.

You find yourself wondering if he kisses like this, what else is in store, and your arms go around his neck, tugging at the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Y/n,” he murmurs against your mouth.

“What?” You gasp out, pouting a little as you back off.

“You gotta let me shower first, I smell like tequila and depression.”

You’re surprised into a laugh, and step backwards, feeling only a little embarrassed at your needy behavior. “Fair enough.”

You don’t start to feel awkward until you’re in your room, naked under your covers and wondering if that was just an excuse to get away from you, if he wouldn’t show up after all, until you hear a faint knock on the door.

“Come in,” you call, holding the covers up to your neck just in case it’s Leah and trying to brace yourself for disappointment if it is.

It’s Johnny after all, no more ripped jeans but instead gray sweats and a white tanktop, hair damp and slicked back, no more bangs in his face.

It’s different, somehow, seeing him stripped bare like this, and you worry your lip between your teeth, feeling exposed even under the covers.

“Change your mind already?” He teases, but he steps inside and closes the door anyway.

“Lock it,” you say, hiding your face under the covers when he raises an eyebrow at you.

You keep your face hidden until you feel him sit down on the bed beside you.

“You gonna tell me about this crush you had on me?”

“Oh, fuck, no,” you groan.

Johnny tugs down the covers and then takes in a sharp breath. “Oh, princess, you were expecting me after all.”

“Who else would I be expecting?” You mutter, hiding your face with your hands.

He laughs, taking your hands in his and leaning down to kiss you, softly this time, none of the aggression from earlier.

When you try to slide your tongue into his mouth, he pulls away and you groan in frustration.

“Ah-ah, gotta tell me about that crush first,” he teases.

You struggle into a sitting position, moving the covers to reveal your breasts, and his eyes flick downward, tongue darting out to wet his lips, but then back up to your face as if unbothered.

“I couldn’t stand you, but I thought you were hot,” you admit with a sigh. “Kinda wanted you to hold my hand and kiss me and stuff.”

“I thought you were into those jock types. Like that one guy, whatshisface?”

“I have no idea who you’re talking about.” You’re sitting there with your tits out and he’s talking about some old high school boyfriend of yours?

Johnny scrunches his nose. “That guy you dated junior year. The big one.”

You roll your eyes. “What, were you jealous?”

“Yeah, a little.” Johnny looks down at your breasts again, takes them in his hands, rolling his thumbs over your nipples, and you gasp.

“Johnny.”

“Hmm?” He’s focused on your breasts, on how your nipples peak under his hands.

“Shut up and fuck me already.”

His eyes dart to your face, just a hint of a smirk on his face. “Orders from the princess?”

You huff out a breath but he tears the sheets off you, kisses down your hipbone and you lose any breath you’d had to complain.

It’s a combination of the way his mouth feels on your clit and the low moan he lets out against you that makes you cry out, and you bite the back of your hand to muffle the sound.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you moan, threading your fingers through his damp hair, and he makes that low groan/growl sound that has your hips bucking up to meet his mouth as he latches his lips around your clit. He works his tongue against you, side to side, he’s good at this, he’s had tons of practice, you’re sure, but holy fuck. You’re not one of those girls that finds it easy to get off, even by yourself, but you’re so close it feels like your clit is swollen beneath his mouth, heat flooding through your body.

Just as you’re about to cum he moves his tongue from your clit to slide inside your pussy, lapping you up like you’re some exquisite meal, and you let out a whimper and a frustrated sigh, clenching your thighs around his head.

You hear him chuckle as he nips at your inner thigh, making you yelp quietly. You’re sure there will be a mark there, and the idea makes you feel hot all over again before he slides two long fingers inside you, curling up, and latches his full mouth around your clit again, sending you over the edge in just those two motions. You bite down hard on the back of your hand to not alert Leah that her older brother is face deep in your pussy, rolling your hips up to meet his face.

You tug on his hair, impatient, your pussy clenching around nothing, and he slides up your body, his mouth and chin shiny with your slick. He kisses you just like on the porch, rough and dirty, moans into your mouth.

“You taste so sweet, princess,” he murmurs against your mouth, and you feel him hard against your hip, bigger than you’d imagined.

You twist away from him, digging in your bedside drawer and bringing out a selection of various condoms.

Johnny raises an eyebrow.

“Oh, fuck you, it’s college, I’m prepared.”

“Hmm,” is his only response, but he doesn’t waste time, tugging down his sweats and your eyes widen only slightly at how thick he is, redder toward the head, bobbing against his abdomen.

He applies the condom but doesn’t slide inside you like you expect, instead working three fingers in your pussy, stretching you, making you gasp for air.

“You’re so tight, princess. Haven’t used these condoms much, yeah?”

“Oh fuck off, that’s not how it works and you know it,” you gasp out, and he laughs, loud and open.

He takes one of your thighs in his hands and moves you so that he’s between your thighs and your knees come up instinctively, your pussy aching to have him inside you.

His eyes are darting between your sex and your face and you bite your lip.

“Johnny, what the fuck are you waiting for, come on,” you whine, but he keeps looking down at you with dark eyes.

“Don’t want you to have used them much,” he mumbles, so low you’re not sure if you’ve heard him, and you blink.

“Are you...are you being serious?”

He shrugs, kneading your thigh with one hand.

A moment of inspiration hits and you sigh. “Well, if you’re not gonna fuck me, let me up so I can go and find someone who will. It’s a big campus, there’s lots of jocks from the lacrosse team-”

Johnny makes that growl/groan sound again and your heart speeds up.

“Real cute, Y/n.” He leans down to kiss you, nipping at your lower lip as he finally pushes inside you, and you’re glad he’s kissing you because your cry definitely wouldn’t have been quiet otherwise.

He feels so hot and hard inside you, you can feel him pulsing and you lift your legs up with your hands below your knees so that he can fuck you deeper and he groans loud against your mouth. Apparently he doesn’t have the same worries about Leah finding out, because he’s making all kinds of noise as he fucks you hard and deep, looking down at where the two of you connect.

“Grip me so tight, princess, so hot and wet, fuck…”

“Johnny, please,” you whine, and you’re not even sure what you’re asking for but he gives it to you anyway, shifting to fuck you harder, hitting this spot inside you that you can barely reach with your fingers and it makes black spots bloom behind your eyelids.

“Every time Leah posted a picture with you I thought about you,” he babbles, never slowing. “Every time she mentioned you I remembered how you looked with your hair falling out of that ponytail you always hand it in, nibbling on your thumbnail and sassing me left and right.”

“Johnny,” you breathe, and then you’re vaulted into another orgasm and he kisses you hard and dirty again but there’s something oddly passionate in it. He grunts into your mouth when he spills into the condom and you breathe hard against his neck until he rolls off you.

“So you had a crush on me too, huh?” You ask, propping yourself up on one elbow.

Johnny groans and laughs at the same time and covers his face with his hands.

“Shut up.”

You can’t stop smiling, and you give him fifteen minutes before you start kissing along his ribs, down to his hipbone, sucking a mark there as he gasps.

When you take him into your mouth, he groans so loud that Leah bangs on the wall.

“Gross!” She yells, and you manage to keep it together, laughing only a little around him before going back to your task.

Later that day when the two of you come up for air, she wrinkles her nose at you both but smiles, and you figure that’s her way of giving her blessing.

You all end up at the campus quad and Johnny is skating when the lacrosse player that you’d hooked up with a few months ago comes up behind you and hugs you from behind.

“Hey!” You greet him brightly, hugging him back and then backing away, about to tell him that you’re seeing someone new.

Before you can though, you feel a kiss on your shoulder, a hand snaking around your waist.

“Hey!” Johnny says brightly. “I’m Johnny, Y/n’s boyfriend.”

“So salty,” Leah says with a snort when the lacrosse player walks off.

“I’m not salty,” Johnny pouts. “Not even the jealous type.”

“Oh word? Lemme go ask him if he wants to take me out tomorrow night, then-”

Johnny bites down on your shoulder gently. “You better fucking not.”

You laugh and you’re not even mad when he lights a cigarette, sitting down on the curb and looking up at you like you hung the moon.

“Do you feel better, now?” You ask, the next night as you’re both sitting on the porch and watching the sunset. “Less like you’re drowning?”

Johnny leans over and kisses your shoulder, open mouthed. “Yeah, feel like I learned how to swim, thanks to you.”

#johnny suh x reader #johnny x reader #johnny suh imagine #nct imagine #johnny suh smut

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delos-mio · 4 years ago

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Out of the Woods - College!AU - PART 1

A/N: Welp, here it is! Part 1 of my silly little AU for my favorite silly little king. I really hope I can do him justice and I greatly appreciate any comments and questions you may have! No major triggers- only implied drug use, drinking, allusion to sexy stuff. So, without further ado..

If you had to gaze into a crystal ball at the beginning of the year, this would not have been the future you expected to see. You didn’t plan on being unhoused, stuck in an idle relationship, and debating dropping out of school all together. But here you were, trying your very best to pick up the pieces, salvage what little motivation to carry on that you had left. It could have been worse. It could have been much worse, at least that’s what you kept telling yourself to keep from crumbling entirely. You were never one to back down though, and these few hurdles sure as hell weren’t going to be the thing to break you. At least one of your problems was solved.

You had just emptied the last of the boxes left from moving and were hanging up the rest of your clothes when there was a soft knock on your door. Genya popped her head in, smiling brightly.

“Hey. I was just making sure you were getting settled ok,” she said.

“Yeah, I’m just about done unpacking I think.” You sat down next to her on the edge of your bed. “Thanks again for letting me live here. You have no idea how much you saved his ass,” you laughed.

“Don’t mention it! I’m happy to have someone else here, honestly.” She seemed to mean it, so you decided not to keep groveling. “Anyways, I just had a friend text me about a party tonight if you wanted to go?”

Your party days were almost entirely behind you. Freshman and Sophomore year were a haze of booze and recreational drugs, leading to you almost flunking out of school on more than one occasion. You’d since cleaned up your act, for the most part, and found you way back on the Dean’s list. But...it was a Friday afterall. And you’d just spent all day moving and contemplating your entire life- did that not earn a beer or two?

“Yeah, ok. Ok. That sounds good,” you said with a nod.

“Awesome! I think we’re meeting there around 10ish, so I’ll come grab you to get ready in a little bit.”

“Get ready? Are we 18 and going to our first frat party?” you joked, making Genya laugh.

“I was thinking about it more so as a roomie bonding activity, but if you wanna be a brat…” she drawled, trying to keep the smile off her face.

“Come back in an hour,” you finally sighed. Genya looked simply delighted as she exited, very clearly planning out looks for you both in her head.

As you went to finish up organizing your closet, you felt the familiar buzz of your phone in your pocket.

Matt: u coming over tonight?

You couldn’t stop your eyes from rolling back in your skull. That probably shouldn’t happen when you get a text from your boyfriend.

Y: can’t, sorry. Going out with Genya M: ok- have fun. Make good choices. Y: wtf does that mean M: just to make good choices? Jesus does everything have to be a fight? Y: i’m not trying to fight omg Y: i’ll just talk to you later M: k

K. He had some fucking nerve.

---

Across campus, Nikolai wasn’t having much better of an evening.

"Do I have to?"

"Yes." Aleks's tone was final; Nikolai knew there was no point in trying to bargain with him at this point.

"Jesus, fine." Nikolai’s fate had been decided and it was now mandatory that he go to the Delta Chi party that night. And here he had been looking forward to a quiet evening alone with his guitar and journal...

"It'll be fun, you sad sack. And I really want you to meet Alina," Aleks chastised.

"I didn’t know you missed my irreplaceable company quite this much."

Aleks gently threw a pencil across the table at his head. "Maybe you'll even catch a new fish of your own, huh?" he said with an obnoxious smirk. Nikolai just chuckled, nodding noncommittally before heading off to his bedroom.

It's not that he didn’t want to go. Well, he didn’t, really. But normally, he would. It’d been about a month since he called it off with the girl he met in Statistics. And it's not like he even missed her all that much- he knew she wouldn’t be around long from the start. But he was still stuck in the “mope in his room, write songs about heartbreak” phase of his healing. Because of such, he hadn't felt like partying much lately, but he’d blown off Aleks the last 3 weekends...he wasn't going to let Nikolai say no again.

Nikolai figured the least he could do is try and look presentable. It was unlike him to spend as much time in sweats as he had; his sense of style had always been impeccable. He was a man who knew he was handsome and knew the best way to broadcast just that. He pulled out tight black jeans and paired them with a powder blue button down with the sleeves rolled up, maybe a couple of the top buttons left undone. He pushed his golden hair back out of his hazel eyes and scrutinized himself in the mirror. To his horror, he looked like he hadn't had a good night of sleep in a week, which was true. Overall, it could have been better, but it could be worse. With a sigh, he grabbed his phone and keys before going out to find Aleks.

They got to the Delta Chi house, and there were already a few guys passed out on the lawn. Nikolai wasn’t surprised, but it was only 10:30. They must have been freshmen. Aleks lead the way to the porch where a petite dark haired girl turned around and beamed at them.

"You're late!" she says with a clearly fake pout. Aleks leaned in to kiss it away and Nikolai looked everywhere but at them.

"Sorry, sorry, I know. Miss Princess here had to be dragged out of his cave," he laughed at his expense. "Alina, this is Nikolai. Nikolai, Alina."

"Nice to finally meet you," Alina smiled. She's cute, he can give Aleks that.

"I’ll have you know I was not in a cave. I was waxing poetic about love lost, heartbreak and what have you,” Nikolai smirked as Alina laughed.

"Genya and her new roommate are already inside," Alina said, grabbing Aleks's hand.

Thank god. Not that he didn't want to spend time with them or get to know Alina, but he didn't really want to watch them suck face and play third wheel all night. Genya had been a friend of theirs since Freshman year- she smoked them down at a random dorm party and she'd been part of the gang ever since. Nikolai pushed through the crowd and made it along with Aleks and Alina to the kitchen. There were fewer people back here and Nikolai felt like he could breathe again.

"Nik," Genya chirped and threw her hands up excitement. "He lives!"

"You saw me Wednesday," Nikolai laughed. “But, I understand. Aleks was desperate for his company too. It must have been unbearable without me.”

"I really didn't think Aleks would get you to come," she said with an easy grin. Genya handed him a cup of what he assumed was beer. "Doesn't matter. You're here now."

They all circled up and chatted for a minute. For once in his life, Nikolai felt like he was noticeably quiet, but he found he didn’t have much to add. They didn’t want to hear about how he managed to cook a meal TWICE last week. Or how he’d written probably a dozen songs, all of them dogshit. Genya was grinning at a story their friend William was telling when she looked over his shoulder and motioned for someone to join them.

"Guys! Guys! This is my new roommate," Genya said. Ah yes, the new roommate. How could Nikolai forget?

New Roommate had wedged themselves into the circle two people away from Nikolai. He looked up from his cup and immediately locked eyes with you. Honestly, the name should have tipped him off. He never, ever thought he’d see you again. There's no way you possibly remember him, right? God, you were still so beautiful.

"Nikolai?" you asked with a tight voice, eyes jumping all around his face. And it's right about then that Nikolai wished he got a little more beauty sleep. Here you were, practically glowing, while he looked like the walking dead.

"Hey," he breathed out. It sounded a lot more desperate than he meant it to, but you always have had that effect on him.

"You guys know each other?" Aleks interjected.

"It's uh, it's been a few years, but yeah," you said with a blush, looking down into your cup. Aleks and Genya both looked at Nikolai with a raised eyebrow. He could feel the sweat pricking along his brow. Fuck, now all eyes were on him...

"Maybe there's a spot open for beer pong. Let's go check it out." Thank you. Subtle, Genya. "You guys can catch up," Genya said walking past you and patting Nikolai on the shoulder. The rest of his friends followed suit and Nikolai was left alone with you, staring not so subtly.

You hadn’t grown an inch. You’d lost the bright red glasses too. But, god, you were still the most gorgeous creature Nikolai had ever laid his eyes on. Really, he couldn't have lost his virginity to a hotter person.

It's your typical boy-meets-girl story. Nikolai first saw you at the rink where he played hockey in high school. Your parents owned the building and seeing as such, you were employed as the kid behind the concession stand. Nikolai remembered the first time he saw you, he thought you looked like a dork. A very hot dork, but a dork all the same. Nikolai began to notice you watching him in particular during practice, which just further flustered his raging teen hormones.

One night, after everyone else had left practice, Nikolai stayed behind and introduced himself to you. He’d never seen such a beautiful mouth and he had to resist the urge to kiss you right then and there. It became habit that he stay after practice and lean against the counter to shamelessly flirt with you. You often had the rink to yourselves by that time, so Nikolai felt like he could really be himself during those hours. He was still figuring out his place in the world and had stuck-up parents who would never approve of him taking you home. But in the lowlights of the concourse, he was allowed to have a crush on you.

Flirting led to making out behind the counter. Making out behind the counter led to hand stuff in your beat up purple van once you locked up for the night. Hand stuff led to him fucking you in the locker room shower. It was both of your first time and it could have been much less hurried. But you were young and inexperienced and horny as fuck and still exploring sexuality. You kept that arrangement up for the next few months until the season ended and Nikolai left that fall for school. He felt like a dick for not saying goodbye to you. It's not in his nature to ghost. It just isn't. He thinks maybe he was still scared of what it all "meant" and how much he really liked you. Maybe this was the universe telling him to make things right with you and make things right for himself.

"Hey, stranger," you said with a lopsided grin. Fuck. Nikolai was so done for if you kept looking at him like that.

"Hey yourself." And Nikolai couldn't help himself when he reached out to you to pull you in a tight embrace. Lucky him, you didn’t push him away and call him a fucking asshole; he thought he would have deserved that. You buried your face into his neck and the hot little puffs of air were doing way more to him than they should. You parted just enough to get a good look at each other.

"You look good," you said with a dark edge to your voice, bottom lip trapped between your teeth. He knew very well what he looked like that night, but you seemed to mean the compliment.

"You look better," he replied earnestly, because it was true. It shouldn't have been this easy to fall right back into things. But it was always different with you. Sometimes, he still thought you were the only one that really understood him without him having to say a word.

"Nikolai Lantsov, you always were a little flirt," you laughed. Your eyes crinkled at the corner and Nikolai thought to himself how beautiful you are when you’re playful. You’re always beautiful. He wanted nothing more than to whisk you away and have you alone. This time, he wouldn’t fuck it up. He wouldn’t let you go. You must have noticed his brain going into overdrive because you say "What's going on up there? What ya thinking?" You pushed a rogue lock of golden hair away from his face.

"Honestly?"

"Honestly."

"I'm thinking about how much I wish we weren't at a frat party right now. I'm thinking about how I want to be selfish and have you all to myself," Nikolai said low so only you could hear. You laughed a little to yourself and looked at him with sparkling eyes.

"I'm not stopping you," you drawled. Fuck. Fuck, ok. This was really happening.

"Let me tell the guys we're leaving and then do you maybe want to get some food?" Nikolai asked hopefully. You just nodded coyly with a small smirk.

"I'll meet you out front." You squeezed his hand once and started pushing your way through the sea of bodies.

Nikolai ran his hands through his hair and took a deep breath before nearly running down to the basement, eager to say goodbye and make his way back to you. Genya, Aleks, Alina, and William were playing each other, a beer pong table stretching between their pairs.

"Where's your old friend?" Genya asked with a shit eating grin.

"We're um. We're actually gonna head out. So, I guess I'll—" but he was immediately cut off by Aleks.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Nik, are you leaving with a girl?" he teased.

"Yes. I am." Nikolai looked at him defiantly.

"How do you guys know each other anyways?" Bill asked before launching a shot.

"Just from growing up. High school or whatever," Nikolai mumbled.

"Cmon..." Genya begged.

"Wouldn’t you love to know," he said, voice laced with snark. "I just came down here to say we're fucking leaving!"

"Well then you better not keep your girl waiting," Genya said with a silent kiss in his direction. Nikolai just flipped her off and took his leave.

When he got outside, you were waiting with your hands in your pockets at the bottom of the porch steps. He smiled wide at you and offered a hand, which you seemed happy to take.

"So, are they gonna give me a bunch of shit next time I see them?" you asked as you walked hand in hand to the little strip of 24 hour restaurants on the outskirts of campus.

"Probably. Nothing you can't handle," Nikolai winked. You laughed then a little giggle. It's such a familiar sound and just like that, Nikolai was transported back to the ice rink and you giggling between kisses behind the snack bar.

You made it to one of his favorite delis in town and he offers to buy you a sandwich, which of course you tried to refuse his offer. Nikolai simply won't hear it. He had 5 years of douche baggery to make up for and insisted. You finally conceded and thanked him with the sweetest smile Nikolai had ever seen. You found a table in the corner, away from the door and prying eyes.

"So, how'd you meet Genya?" Nikolai asked.

"We have a writing class together. And we got to talking and became friends. I needed to find a new place cause my old roommate had to drop out and move home. I couldn't afford the place on my own. And I mean, you know how Genya is," you laughed, "I told her all about it one day in class and she offered me a room at her place without batting an eye."

"That does sound like Genya," Nikolai nodded.

"I've only been there like, two hours. But it's been good so far. Genya's been super cool," you said with a smile.

"I can't believe that we've been at the same school this whole time and it's taken this long to find each other," Nikolai said, mostly to himself, but you heard him and reached across the table to grab one of his hands.

"But we did find each other eventually, yeah?" You ran your thumb over his knuckle.

"Yeah," he said, suddenly bashful. Nikolai was seldom flustered. He had nerves of steel and had confidence to spare on his worst days. But you. You cut through him, all the way down to the core, and that made him nervous.

"So," you started, "Tell me about everything Nikolai Lantsov. Surely you've been up to something the last few years."

"Not much interesting to tell," he shrugged. "Been studying history. Writing music here and there to keep myself occupied."

"Girlfriend?"

"Who wants to know?" he asked with an arched eyebrow.

"Shut up," you mumbled into your soda. He doesn't miss the blush that's spreading over your cheeks.

"No. No girlfriend." he paused, considering how honest to be. But fuck it, he owed you candor. "I actually broke up with a girl a little over a month ago." You looked back up at him then, your eyes searching presumably for whether or not Nikolai was still torn up about it. "She wasn’t...she wasn’t right for mw and I guess I was just done. I feel like I should still be sad about it or whatever, but I'm not. I don't miss her. The wallowing and self reflection has been great writing fodder though," he said with a laugh.

"I'm sorry, Nik. You don't deserve that."

"Don't I?" Nikolai looked at you and suddenly felt torn open. "I...I'll never forgive myself for what I did to you." You bit down on your lip and looked out the window. "I regretted leaving you, god, and like a fucking asshole. I regretted leaving you so much. I know saying I'm sorry isn't even close to enough. But god, I'm so fucking sorry." He knew there were tears threatening to fall from his eyes, but he swallowed them down best he could.

"I'm not going to act like it didn't hurt me. Because it really, really did. But I accept your apology, Nik. You know I could never stay mad at you." You paused for a minute before looking at Nikolai with a tiny fire in your eyes. "You know, I'm pretty sure I was in love with you back then."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I don’t think I ever stopped loving you," He said confidently. Your jaw dropped just for a moment before you're giving him that sexy grin that apparently still drives him absolutely crazy.

"Still?” Nikolai just smirked. "What if you don't know me anymore?" you asked and sucked at the straw in your soda.

"I'd like to." There's a shift in the air between you. Nikolai was sure you could both feel it. It was suddenly too warm in the restaurant and there's too much table separating you. He decided to take his chance. ��How do you feel about going back to my place?”

You suddenly seemed very interested in your nail beds, picking anxiously at the skin. “You didn’t ask me if I was seeing anyone.”

Nikolai stalled. He didn’t. You asked about his relationship status and he was so absorbed with letting you know that he was, in fact, single, that he didn’t bother to ask if you were even available. Hadn't you been flirting all night? He'd certainly been flirting. But like you said, maybe he didn't know you anymore. Maybe this was just how you were these days. “Are you...are you seeing someone?”

“Yeah,” you sighed. Maybe it was his own wishful thinking, him hearing the resignation in your voice. Not that he wanted you to be unhappy. No, you deserved the world and he wanted nothing more than for you to have the sun and the moon and the stars. But, maybe there was still a chance for him yet. “His name is Matt. We’ve been together for like, a year or so.”

“Matt.” He let the name burn his tongue. “You love him?”

“Nik…” you warned.

“Just a question.”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“Just my two cents here,” Nikolai started, leaning back into the booth, “But you deserve to be with someone you can gush about. Someone who when you get asked if you love them, you don’t think twice and say ‘they’re the love of my life!’”

“And you don’t think that’s him?” you said, huffing. “You think that’s you?”

“There’s a chance,” he smirked. “All that aside, I’m very glad fate has brought us together again.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you laughed. “I missed you too.” You looked at your phone quickly. “Shit, I should get going. I have a shift at 9 tomorrow.”

“Let me walk you home,” Nikolai insisted, standing from the booth and helping you into your jacket.

“Always such a gentleman,” you smiled, tapping him gently on the nose before walking ahead of him.

The walk to your and Genya’s place felt too short. Nikolai had made this trek, both intoxicated and sober, and it always seemed much longer. But now he was at your front door, hands shoved in his pockets as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. “If you don’t want to hang out again, I understand, but I need you to tell me now if you think it’s a bad idea,” he rushed out.

“Of course I want to see you again,” you said, rolling your eyes. “So dramatic. We can still be friends, right?”

“We can be best friends,” he smiled.

“I’m glad I ran into you tonight.”

“Likewise.”

You were both clearly just trying to prolong the evening at this point. Nikolai took it upon himself to put you both out of your misery and pulled you into his arms again. You gripped his torso tightly, melting your body against his. He held you close, both strong arms wrapped around your shoulder while he tucked your head under his chin. After a moment, he pulled back enough to leave a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Get some sleep,” he whispered, his breathing a little hard.

“Ok,” you croaked, nodding. Nikolai stepped out of your space then, squeezing your hand one last time before walking back out to the sidewalk, waiting and watching to make sure you got inside safely.

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #prince nikolai #shadow and bone #grishaverse #nikolai lantsov fanfic #shadow and bone fanfic #nikolai lantsov au #shadow and bone au #grishaverse au #ootw #masterlist

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wasabito · 4 years ago

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home feels like you | naruto x fem!reader

here’s my entry for the konoha simps server collab with @bakubabes-hatake; prompts are roommate au and “i was so stupid to make the mistake of falling in love with my best friend.” (i will be making edits to this later lmao)

wordcount: 3.0k

tags: fluff, angst, modern au, healing after a breakup

synopsis: it’s a little hard for him to describe the way he feels these days, but if anyone asked, he’d say that home feels a lot like you.

Naruto didn’t wake up that morning to the sound of his alarm blaring through the stillness, or even to streams of early morning sunlight filtering in through his curtains. Yet, he sat up in bed, shirtless, hair askew, with a dry streak of saliva at the corner of his mouth.

Even though he searched for what had woken him up so abruptly, Naruto found nothing.

Blinking back at him in bright neon green, his alarm clock read 5:23 am, approximately thirty-seven minutes until it was time for his morning run. Not one to miss out on the chance to get more sleep, Naruto was just about to turn over in bed, stuff his head back under his pillow and be dead to the world once more—then he heard it.

Harsh whispers and...sniffling.

The Uzumaki remained silent, sleep suddenly gone from his eyes. His gaze was trained onto his bedroom door, knowing that you, his roommate, were probably just a few feet beyond it. You’d been an early riser for as long as he’d known you and Naruto imagined you were shuffling into the kitchen to make yourself some coffee before heading to work for the day.

This time, however, it seemed your peaceful morning routine had been interrupted by an unexpected and seemingly unpleasant phone call.

Naruto listened close while you spoke hurriedly into the receiver, a rush of words garbled together and unintelligible due your shaky voice that pierced through paper thin walls. Even from where he laid, Naruto could tell that you were just barely holding it together; it sounded like you were a moment away from crying.

Unable to sit still, he pulled off the covers and followed after your voice. The entire apartment beyond his bedroom was cloaked in darkness, so much so that he could barely see his own two feet. The only source of light came from your cell phone that illuminated a single corner of the room where you sat.

“Hey...you uh, you doin’ okay—” Truly he hadn’t meant to be so loud, but his voice boomed regardless, causing you to flinch. Not to mention, it sounded like he’d gargled nails just five minutes prior with how gravely his voice was. Great going, Naruto, he thought to himself.

He cleared his throat, whispering, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, heh.”

You sat curled up on the sofa, with your phone wedged between your shoulder and ear, but it didn’t seem like anyone was talking anymore. With a sigh, you hung up the phone, plunging the room in muted darkness.

“I’m fine,” you muttered. “...don’t worry about it.”

Bypassing his curious look, you trudged back into your bedroom. It seemed he would not be getting an answer anytime soon. Naruto blinked slowly, scrubbing a hand through his hair as he reentered his room as well. But the more he thought about you, the more unsettled he became.

You had moved in with him six months ago after Sasuke left for business overseas. But even since then, Naruto still only knew as much about you as he had when he first met you, which was literally next to nothing. He could respect that you were a private person, but he still felt it was a little ridiculous that you both shared a refrigerator and he’d had to stalk your Facebook page just to find out your birthday.

The two of you had lived as nothing more than strangers for an entire six months, but in all that time, he had never heard you sound like that...

His curiosity had gotten the better of him. Normally he wouldn't be so bothered, but with Sasuke away and Sakura busy with her own life, he was beginning to feel as if he had nothing else to steal his attention. Naruto was only now realizing how invested he was in the lives of his friends, more so than his own even. Being involved was second nature.

Two and a half weeks later, the reason behind your odd behavior made itself known. In fact, it quite literally stood at your shared doorstep.

It was a normal Saturday night, and for once he was home instead of gaming the entire night away over at Kiba’s place. Naruto had been in the kitchen making himself yet another cup of instant ramen when a knock came at the door, shattering the evening stillness. Before he could even set down his chopsticks, you had bounded down the hall with a duffel bag slung over your shoulder. He had never seen you so upset, but your anger was unmistakable as you wrenched the door open with enough force to rattle it on its hinges.

“Here’s your shit.”

“Can we at least talk abou—”

“No!” You slammed the door shut in the face of… whoever that was.

Naruto came around the counter to stand in the hall. He didn’t bother hiding the fact that he was so blatantly eavesdropping on you. Was there really a point in hiding?

You turned in time to catch him out of your peripheral, frown still set on your lips, though it softened a bit when you caught sight of him watching you. “You’re pretty nosy.” Was your only remark, but despite the edge in your words, it didn’t sound like you were annoyed at him, almost like you had expected it.

“Well, can you blame me?” Naruto scratched his neck sheepishly, “You were actin’ pretty weird, so of course I got curious, what did ya expect?”

You snorted. “So, that’s your perfect defense?”

Naruto gave you the goofiest smile in response. “Gimme a minute and I’ll think of a better one!”

With a laugh you slumped into one of the bar stools near the counter. You hadn’t stopped laughing at him for another minute, but then… your teetering laughter slowly turned into sobs. You shoved your face behind the palms of your hands, but Naruto could see the way your entire body shook. The sound of your crying startled him so bad, he nearly choked on his own spit. Every thought running through his mind came to a screeching halt. It was as if the sounds that escaped your mouth was set to a frequency that would break his heart to pieces over and over again.

“H-Hey,” Naruto reached over, placing a heavy arm over your shoulder and pulling you into his chest. “It’s...gonna be okay, okay? Whatever it is, it’ll work itself out. Please, don’t cry...”

After another moment, your sobs quieted down to a whimper, your cheeks were still wet and Naruto was about seventy percent sure there was a little snot on his tee shirt. Nevertheless, he remained still until you were ready to pull away.

“Um, thanks…” you whispered, lips accidentally grazing his collarbone. Not a second later, you released him, and wiped at your eyes with your shirt sleeve.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“I—um...I guess I owe you some sort of explanation, considering I just used you a human tissue.”

Using humor to cope, that was familiar.

You were trying to lighten the mood, Naruto could tell, so he went along with your joke and laughed. “Yeah, I guess havin’ you tell me is better than me playin’ spy, huh?”

He reached for his forgotten cup of noodles. They were a little soggy after being neglected for so long, but that didn’t stop him from slurping up the entire thing in record time.

“Ah! That hit the spot!”

You laughed again, sniffling as you did so and for a moment he was captured.

That watery smile, the wrinkle in your eyelids, the upward curve of your lips, even the very sound you made, all of it caught him by the throat. It was almost like he was just now realizing that you were a girl. And a really pretty one, at that. Naruto gulped and looked away. He wasn’t sure what was happening to him or why he was just noticing how cute you were, but he shook his head as if to dispel some of the mental fog.

“That was my boyfriend—ex boyfriend, I mean.”

“Ex boyfriend?” he repeated.

“Yeah, um, we kind of do—er—did the long distance thing...he lives a few cities away, goes to a completely different university so um…anyway I was just uh, returning his clothes....”

You seemed to be struggling to find the right words, likely still processing everything that had happened. At times like this, Naruto was thankful that he and Hinata had ended things so amicably. Not everyone had the luxury. Relationships were hard as it is, and when it was over, picking back up like nothing happened was nigh impossible. There was always something left behind as a reminder, be it scars, old wounds in the form of memories. Sakura had once dubbed it ‘relationship residue’.

“Hey, don’t push yourself!” Naruto offered a grin and a thumbs up. “C’mon, let’s get your mind off it. We can watch a movie, or play some music, or…” he looked around the apartment in search of something you both could do but came up short.

“I appreciate the gesture, Naruto, but I think I’m just going to head to bed early. I’m a little tired.”

You gave a small smile, and though it didn’t reach your eyes, Naruto could do nothing but watch after your retreating back yet again.

He didn’t like the helpless feeling that latched onto him. He would always and forever be doer. He couldn't just sit idly by while you went through this hard time alone. Though he kept quiet, he was determined to make you feel better somehow. He never wanted to see you cry like that ever again.

Following that night, the dynamic between the two of you had changed. Naruto, naturally friendly as he was, made it his first priority to check up on you and see how you were doing. And instead of heading straight to your bedroom upon returning from class or work, nowadays, you spent your free time in Naruto’s company. Whether it be just by watching the evening news together or doing homework in the same area. For the first time in months, you two were acting more and more like roommates—maybe even friends. You still hadn't opened up much about your ex boyfriend, but that was okay. Naruto knew that as long as you understood he was there to support you, that you were not alone, one day you’d be able to speak about it with him.

A change in weather seemed to follow the change in pace. Winter was fast approaching and with it came colder mornings, frosted leaves that crunched under foot, and a need to remain bundled up lest one catch a cold. Naruto had just returned home to find that you had made a hot pot. The entire apartment was filled with such a delicious smell that had his mouth watering and stomach grumbling in askance.

“Hey there!” you called from the kitchen. “I just finished up, grab a bowl and get some.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Naruto quickly shrugged out of his coat and scarf, doing a little shimmy, then grabbed a bowl from the cabinet. “It smells sooo good~”

His eagerness managed to pull a laugh out of you. You quickly handed him the ladle. “Go nuts...well...not too crazy.” Knowing Naruto, it was safe to say he would inhale the entire pot if left up to his own devices, you’d come to learn this the hard way.

“Yeah, yeah.” he said, scooping himself a hefty serving. He wasted no time at all, digging in with much gusto. “Damn!! This is hella good! You’re such a great cook, roomie.”

You were unsure whether he was merely flattering you for that sake of flattery or if he truly enjoyed the meal, but you accepted his compliments as gracefully as you could manage.

Eating dinner like this was nice. Naruto made for good company. For the time being, you let yourself enjoy the simplicity of the moment, the utter lack of expectation, the vibrant energy that came with mutual understanding, all of it made you feel much warmer inside. You knew it wasn’t just the hot pot.

Several more nights were spent just like this, relishing the friendly companionship that was slowly being fostered between you two. It wasn’t like you had very many friends to begin with, but you could admit that Naruto was a breath of fresh air. His sunny persona and steadfast disposition always managed to brighten up your day. Most nights, he talked enough for the both of you and was a pleasant distraction from less than savory thoughts regarding your ex. It was safe to say that you rather liked being his roommate. Naruto made you feel safe in your own skin again.

You had just returned from class when you heard Naruto fumbling around in the bathroom. He wasn’t a quiet roommate by any means, but he usually never made this much noise in the mornings. From the looks of things, he had just returned from a run, and was now showering away the sweat and grime.

“You okay in there?” you called. There was no answer.

Instead, the restroom door was thrust open and your roommate burst through, darting down the hall at breakneck speed, naked as the day he was born. You blinked rapidly, mouth hanging open. What...the actual hell?

“My bad!! I forgot my towel!” His awkward laugh echoed from somewhere in his bedroom.

“You could’ve just asked me to bring you one.”

“I kinda panicked a little.”

You snorted behind your hand. “A little?”

“Okay, maybe a lot.”

Naruto returned to where you stood, thankfully he was fully dressed, although his wet hair hung low around his face, wispy tendrils clinging to his cheeks. The water droplets were left to be caught by the towel around his neck.

“Dude, you’re gonna get sick,” you grabbed the towel and draped it over his head. Naruto was just a few inches taller, but you still managed, even if you had to get on your toes a bit, while he bent to accommodate the height difference.

You carefully towel dried his hair as best as you could. Naruto kept his eyes solely on you. It was a little unnerving, but you did your best to ignore it, until he finally spoke up.

“How are you feeling?”

Due to proximity, you could feel his puffs of breath fanning against your cheek.

“I’m good now, Naruto. Great, actually.”

He smiled at that. “I’m glad.”

You chewed your lip to stop yourself from smiling back but it was too late, he’d already caught a glimpse of it.

“There you go,” you returned the towel to his open hands. “All done.”

“Thanks a bunch! I don’t think anyone’s ever done that for me before.”

You found that a little hard to believe. But Naruto was walking away before you could question him about it. You thought about the way he looked at you, how his eyes seemed to gleam as he did. It made your cheeks feel like they were on fire.

Days later, you still thought about it even as you stretched yourself across the carpeted floors of your apartment living room in an attempt to gather your thoughts. It was a feeble attempt, and you weren’t really a yoga person, but you were insistent on doing something that didn’t fall into the category of wondering what your roommate was currently doing. And it worked for all of five minutes before you simply laid on your back and stared up at the ceiling.

That was the exact image of you Naruto walked in on. He tossed his keys on the table, left his backpack by the door, and toed off his shoes like normal, it was a routine ingrained in him by now.

“Uhh, what are you doing on the floor?” Naruto stood over your figure with a quirky grin. He was wearing a turtleneck… which was a little odd, you’d only ever seen him tee shirts and sweatpants. But it was nice. He looked nice. Wait, no—

“Why are you wearing…?” You trailed off as Naruto laid himself by your side, wedging himself between you and the coffee table.

“Nope! I asked first!” He shuffled a bit to make himself comfortable. “So, what are we doing on the floor?”

Keeping your eyes glued to the ceiling and not on the man who was getting a view of your side profile, you replied simply. “I was doing yoga at first.”

Naruto was silent. Did he know what yoga was? You were going to ask, but he beat you to it, humming an ‘oh cool’, and accepting your lukewarm response easily.

“You know...these past few months have been kinda like a dream.”

“What do you mean by that, Naruto?”

Finally craning your neck to the side, you were greeted with the full view of him. Soft blonde hair, ocean-blue eyes, and the kind of smile that made you want to smile too. It was so hard to be sad or down in his presence, it was like he vanquished darkness with his light. God, you were sounding so shakespearean.

Unaware of your inner battle, Naruto continued. “I grew up in an orphanage, so the thought of having a home was...a bit like a fairytale. But then I learned that people can be just as much a home as any random building, ya know?”

You did know. You knew it too well, in fact. Once you had made the mistake of falling in love with your best friend. He had become your home, only to leave you broken and abandoned.

“Yeah...I get that.”

“And you,” Naruto continued. “You feel a lot like what I think home feels like.”

You blinked at him, stunned, heart stuttering because you could tell he meant what he’d said. Goddamn him for being this way. For being so good.

Naruto sat up and you followed suit. “I just wanted to say thank you, Y/n.”

And with that, he leaned forward and pecked your cheek.

#naruto #naruto uzumaki x reader #naruto uzumaki x y/n #naruto uzumaki x you #naruto x reader #naruto x y/n #naruto x you #naruto uzumaki #naruto fanfiction #sabi.writes

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nakachuchu · 4 years ago

Text

Love is in the Air or Not | Kuroo Tetsuro + Yaku Morisuke

SYNOPSIS: Harry Potter AU - Two boys are pining for you.

READER: female

WORDS: 2093

WRITTEN: 03/17/2021

NOTES: I rewrote this a lot of times and I read it so many times that I started hating it, so I'm not sure if anyone will actually enjoy it but I spent too much time on it.

You were one of the rare girls who didn't give into Kuroo. He was known at Hogwarts for being a player and being absolutely wicked at sex. It was why girls always crawled to him—but not you.

He wanted to know why it was so easy for you to resist his charms. He thought he was quite attractive, and for you to not agree was an insult.

Kuroo approached you while you were talking to a friend. You slowly turned around and looked up at the tall man as your friend shuffled away.

He grinned at you. "Go out with me."

You laughed with a smile as you reached up to fix his tie. "You're crazy."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Is that a no?"

"It's a big no."

"Why not? I'm a catch," he said.

"Because it's obvious you just want to fuck me," you retorted.

"Aren't you even a bit curious?" he asked.

"No, but I am hungry," you said as you walked away from him to grab a muffin.

You didn't care for relationships or boys, so Kuroo was a no-go for you. You cared more about your friends and getting good grades.

The next day, Kuroo approached you once more in the common room. It was times like this where you wished you were sorted into a different House.

"Go out with me?" Kuroo asked with a flower bouquet in his hand.

The flowers looked as if he pulled them out of the dirt from the courtyard, and you wouldn't be surprised if he did.

You shook your head. "I'm not taking these."

Kuroo's arm swung back to his side. "Why not? Girls like flowers."

You fought back the urge to snatch those flowers and smack him on the head with it. "Not all girls like flowers and not all of them want to have sex with you," you retorted.

You left the common room without taking the flowers. Yaku walked in the room with a muffin in his hand and a book wedged in his armpit.

"Feels bad, doesn't it?" Yaku asked.

Kuroo's eye twitched. "Mouthy already, huh?"

"You tell me."

"Smartass," Kuroo commented with a snort.

"I don't know. Why don't you ask my ass? Here, it's been really calm today."

Yaku turned around and stuck his butt out. Kuroo rolled his eyes and shoved his back before smacking him with the flowers. Yaku turned back and whacked him in the face with his book.

"Dick," Kuroo muttered.

"Asshole," Yaku retorted. "Did you ever stop to think that maybe Y/N doesn't like you?"

"Every girl likes me. They just want to be fucked."

Yaku rolled his eyes. "I'm going to the library. You're annoying the fuck out of me."

"Please do, midget."

Yaku ignored him and walked toward the library with his school bag. He didn't expect to see you there, standing by a bookcase though. He approached you hesitantly and you smiled faintly once you saw him.

"Hey, Yaku," you greeted.

"Hey, Y/N. How's your day so far?" he asked.

"Kuroo hasn't stopped bothering me. It's a miracle he's not here right now. You didn't shrink him and hide him in your robes, did you?"

Yaku smiled as he stuck his hand in his robes and patted his body.

"I don't think he's in there, but if he is, then I probably squished him by then."

You chuckled. "With that ego of his, there's no way we'll be able to shrink him."

He snorted. "You can say that again. I could power a whole town with that ego."

"Try the whole world," you retorted.

The two of you paused before bursting out in laughter. Students nearby curiously looked at you and the librarian shushed you. The two of you zipped your mouths and did your best to not laugh.

You never failed to make him laugh. It was why he liked spending time with you.

The two of you met in your first year and it wasn't difficult to become friends with him. He was a bit shy at first, but eventually came out of his shell when you started smiling and telling jokes to him during class.

"What are you studying for?" you asked.

"Charms," he answered. "You?"

"Potions."

Yaku nodded. "My best subject is Potions."

"And my best subject is Charms," you replied.

"Wanna be study partners?" he asked as he nervously scratched the back of his neck.

"It would be an honor."

The librarian shushed you again.

The two of you looked at each other before forcing down your laughter.

You enjoyed spending time with Yaku. He was humble, smart, and had a wicked sense of humor.

"Y/N, another Outstanding for you!" the professor said as he passed back your test.

You smiled gratefully. Charms always came naturally to you.

"Kuroo, Poor. Was this lesson too difficult for you? You usually do so well."

"Ah, well, I've been a bit under the weather. Maybe Y/N could tutor me since she's so smart," said Kuroo lazily.

"That sounds wonderful!" the professor exclaimed.

You froze and dropped the book you were holding onto the desk. "Please repeat that, Professor. I'm afraid my hearing is a bit wonky these days."

"You should tutor Kuroo!" he repeated. "Lunch is about to start, so everyone may leave. Y/N, I expect you to help Kuroo raise his grades."

You and Kuroo left the room, side-by-side.

"There's no way you purposely failed that test to get me to tutor you, did you?" you asked.

"Who knows?" he questioned with a smirk.

Truth was, he did fail on purpose to get time with you. But it wasn't because he had a crush on you.

He didn't do crushes. It was difficult for him to get attached to someone because no one was worth his time.

"Your technique is all wrong," you critiqued. "Why do you move your arm around like a dead worm?"

After class, you immediately dragged him to a corner of the library to coach him.

Kuroo rolled his eyes. "You're meaner than you look," he said. "Everyone thinks you're this saint, but you're really not."

You raised an eyebrow. "I think I'm pretty nice."

"If you're nice, then go out with me," he countered.

"I'm not that nice."

"Are you sure? I'm pretty cute," he said.

"That's a good joke," you retorted.

He rolled his eyes. "Okay, but I actually do have a good joke. Why did the ketchup blush?"

"I don't know. I don't like ketchup."

"He saw the salad dressing."

You blinked. "That's...horrible. Are you a dad? You're making dad jokes!"

"Hey, they're good! Look, look, I have another one, okay? What's the difference between a G-spot and a golf ball? A man will actually search for a golf ball."

You snorted. "Okay, that's actually—" You started laughing. "That's actually pretty funny."

Kuroo never noticed how cute your laugh and snort was. He liked it when you loosened up around him, so he continued to tell bad jokes.

"Stop making me laugh!" you scolded. "I'm supposed to be tutoring you!"

Kuroo laughed in return. "Think of this as a break!"

"We've had a ten-minute break with me laughing and you telling jokes!"

Other students in the library were starting to get annoyed with the two. At first, they were intrigued by you spending time with Kuroo, but they started to get annoyed with how loud you were.

"There's nothing wrong with that," Kuroo responded.

"Maybe. Unless you're actually failing Charms."

"I'm not. I'm actually smart, you know."

You hummed. "No, I don't think I know."

"Will you go out with me?" he asked again.

It was so sudden, that you didn't know what to say. And when you looked at how serious he was, you nearly agreed.

But you had never dated someone before, and Kuroo was known for being a player.

"No," you said softly. "But for good reason. Maybe you should ask out someone else? Like you said, you're a catch."

He nodded. His mouth felt a bit dry and there was a bad taste in his mouth. He felt a bit uncomfortable but understood what you meant.

The two of you met in your first year, but you only knew him through Yaku. Their families knew each other, so they grew up together.

You and Kuroo weren't close to each other, but if you were around Yaku, Kuroo would normally appear to tease him.

Along the way, he got intrigued by how you never gave him the time of day.

The Winter Ball was coming up. Students were asking each other out left and a right. Everywhere you turned, a student would be asking another student to attend the ball with them.

"Are you going to ask anyone to the ball, Yaku?" you asked as you sat down next to him in the library.

He suddenly seemed frigid. "No!" he exclaimed.

"Shh!" the librarian angrily shushed.

"You seem very eager about that. It's all right. You don't have to tell me anything."

He fidgeted with the ends of his robes. "Y/N, do you want to go to the ball with me?"

Yaku liked you. It wasn't hard to tell, and while you could picture a relationship with him, you weren't ready for one.

You froze, the book in your hand balancing on the spine. "I wasn't planning on going to the dance. I don't like loud, crowded places," you explained. "Sorry. It's definitely not you. Um—let's just study, okay?"

He felt dejected, but it was better than you rejecting him for another person. He nodded and opened his book.

Kuroo looked up from the couch in the common room once he heard the door open. You casually walked in, waving to others with a book wedged into your armpit.

He got up from the couch and walked over to you. You paused as he stood in front of you with his signature smirk.

"Do you want to go to the Winter Ball with me?" he asked.

"Yaku didn't put you up to this, right?" you asked.

"No. Did he do something?"

"He asked me to the dance, like, an hour ago. I'm going to tell you what I told him. I'm not planning on going," you said. "Dances aren't my thing. I'll just be in the common room."

You turned around and headed up to your dorm.

Dances weren't Kuroo's scene, either, but he asked because he wanted to get to know you better. But, he didn't mind the idea of spending time with you alone while the others were at a dance.

Kuroo left the common room to find Yaku to get some answers. Because Kuroo wasn't stupid—regardless of how people thought—he knew Yaku would be in the library.

"Do you like Y/N?" Kuroo asked as he approached him.

Yaku nodded, looking up from his seated position. "Yeah, I do. Do you?"

Kuroo scoffed. "I don't know. She's pretty cool though."

"Who knows? Maybe she'll actually end up liking you—when pigs fly," Yaku added.

Kuroo scoffed. "She'd definitely pick me."

The boys stared each other down silently.

On the day of the dance, you were left alone in the common room. The fire was going and you had a book on your lap.

It was quiet and peaceful, and you liked it. Until two bumbling idiots ran down the stairs while arguing with each other.

You looked up from your book. "Really, boys? You couldn't have gone to the dance like the others?"

"Well, the girl we asked didn't want to go," Kuroo retorted as he jumped over the couch and sat next to you.

Yaku quietly sat on your other side. You closed your book and placed it on the table in front of you.

"Fair point," you said as you waved your wand to turn on the radio.

You leaned your head back and closed your eyes.

"What are you doing?" Yaku asked.

"Taking a nap. We're not going anywhere," you retorted.

The two boys looked at each other as you drifted off to sleep. You didn't mind their company as long as neither of them bothered you—mainly Kuroo.

"She'll never date you," Yaku said.

"How do you know that? I'm a catch. I bet she'll date me."

"I doubt that. I have a better chance than you," Yaku retorted.

Kuroo rolled his eyes. "A midget like you would never win."

The two began to quietly bicker with each other. They were rivals, after all, and this was only the beginning.

#haikyu x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #yaku morisuke x reader #sfw

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sleepymccoy · 4 years ago

Text

I call this one Monsieur and Difficult Topics

It's really very quiet at work and I have that writing bug

2000-ish words

The waiter droned on, chin up and eyes down, the perfect example of French snootiness. Aziraphale could detect the slight Birmingham twang that betrayed the posh man's un-Frenchness.

The waiter, whose name tag simply read Monsieur, brandished the drinks menu like he'd magicked flowers from a pen. "And if you and your friend would like to see-"

Crowley looked up, the movement of it a sudden change from his up-to-now exasperation. "We're not friends," he grunted.

A thread of panic ran up Aziraphale's spine, but he clamped down on it with a practiced technique before it squeezed his heart.

"Pardon me," Monsieur said, affecting his voice to make his lack of care almost tangible. "Your associ-"

"What?" Aziraphale breathed, staring at Crowley closely.

Crowley had been craning his neck slightly to try and read the wine list Monsieur was holding, but at Aziraphale's word he stopped and looked at him closely. He was smiling, unbothered, with his eyebrows raised in question.

Aziraphale's heart thudded. Were they not friends? Crowley seemed so comfortable with it.

Monsieur sighed. "The drinks menu," he snapped and dropped the menu on the table without even the slightest flourish.

Aziraphale ignored his departure, instead watching Crowley for clues. Crowley picked up the drinks menu and settled back, scanning over the list.

"Crowley," Aziraphale entreated.

Crowley's eyes snapped to him, eyebrows furrowing in. "What?"

Aziraphale ran his thumb over his pants leg, focusing on the texture in the hopes that the small distraction might calm him. "What do you mean we're not-"

Crowley made a noise, a disrespectful, vowel heavy sound. "Ach, nothing, just." He stopped and frowned, leaning his elbows on the table to catch Aziraphale's eyes over his glasses. He wielded those like a shield, tipping them open to make himself vulnerable or to deliver a stunning blow. Or, many times, both. "Well, you said, didn't you?"

It settled sickly in Aziraphale. "Oh, Lord, I did, didn't I?"

Crowley smiled and his glasses slid back up his nose with barely a shift from him. "All good." He sat back, waving a hand casually as he picked the drinks menu up again. "You go back and forth, we can be not-friends for a bit."

Aziraphale felt a certainty in him that there was no fixing this, no way he could undo his words without going too far the other way and putting them both at risk. He hated his confines sometimes, this inability to be kind how he wanted to.

He sat, slightly shocked at himself for thinking his hate so openly. Then he realised he likely had been quite open about his hate and it bore no real threat anymore. And who knows how blatant Crowley had been at his trial, Aziraphale had chosen a very holier-than-thou approach in Crowley's.

"I'm thinking Pepperjack," Crowley mused.

"Sounds ace," Aziraphale said absently, still lost in thought.

As he saw the freedom in his emotions, he also found a freedom in his words that logically followed. There was no reason left to be quiet. He could offend Crowley, of course, but that was more a reason to be honest and careful than it was to remain secretive.

He could start, at least. Begin a conversation with truth that may not be fully explored yet, but at least wasn't unreachable.

It was a very freeing decision, in the kind of way an untethered fall from a tall height was freeing.

"I want to be your friend, Crowley."

"Oh," Crowley said. Aziraphale was feeling very fond at the moment, but even so Crowley came across as quite dumb. "Well, that's, ah, quicker than I-"

"Your closest friend," Aziraphale interrupted, realising that Crowley wasn't going to say anything useful and could derail his whole train of thought if he was allowed to continue. "I want to be someone you trust, someone you come to when you need or want anything."

Crowley was staring now, still quite dumbly but at least taking him seriously.

"I don't say this and expect you to- to obey or anything," Aziraphale continued. He found now that Crowley was focusing on him that he couldn't look, and so instead watched his hands as they nervously fiddled without his effort. "But more that, well, I've said an awful lot of conflicting things and I hope you hear the truth in this confession."

Crowley drew in a sharp breath at that, but still Aziraphale didn't look up.

"And at least this may clear up any confusion," Aziraphale said all in a rush.

"Well," Crowley said after a few moments of silence. "That's new."

He'd gone too far, he'd meant to be gentler about it. Come around to more sincere truths later. "I can see many reasons for you not to trust me, though," Aziraphale said, not backtracking exactly, but giving Crowley an easy out.

Aziraphale chuckled, forcing the less serious sound and sighing as it sounded false even to him. He looked up at Crowley, whose glasses were wedged so tightly on his face his skin was going slightly white where they pressed.

"I realise I may be looking ahead a little," Aziraphale mumbled.

"I trust you," Crowley whispered. The words felt lost or unwilling. "I know you too well to mistrust you."

There was a meaning in that that Aziraphale caught. He was trusted on his past behaviour, trusted to be as he always was. His moments of cruelty and disregard would not be a shock, they were simply par for the course, another thing he could be relied upon to be. He may also be kind and happy and easy to tempt, but he would also be horrible.

Aziraphale didn't want to be trusted like that, although he knew it was fair. Crowley had no reason to assume a change, and he wouldn't demand a trust he hadn't earned. But still. A first step couldn't hurt.

"Do you know I won't hurt you again?" Aziraphale said softly.

"Oh," Crowley said, his tone betraying nothing.

But Aziraphale knew a rejection when he heard it. He'd been refused so few times by Crowley, the dynamic was so foreign to him as to be unmistakable. "That's okay," Aziraphale said quickly. He looked up and saw his suspicions confirmed. Crowley sat back in his chair, looking uncomfortably to the side, his hand flexed on the table in stress.

Crowley cleared his throat, still looking off at the window. He tilted his head and Aziraphale saw his eyes were wide. "I'm sorry I said we weren't friends-" Crowley said slowly.

Aziraphale stood.

Crowley skittered back reflexively, sitting straight in his chair. "Oh shit," he hissed.

"I'm sorry, Crowley," Aziraphale said forcibly. "We've been friends for thousands of years, and we will be for many more."

"I said the wrong thing, huh?" Crowley asked weakly.

"No, dear," Aziraphale sighed. He rested on his hands leaning across the small table. Crowley met his gaze, his eyes visible behind his shades from this nearness. His pupils were closer to round than slitted.

"I know- I know why I said it," Aziraphale continued with no real plan for what he was to say, "and I'd rather not give the moment any more time but be assured I was lying-"

The absurd waiter sidled into Aziraphale's vision, standing behind Crowley. He had a finger raised and was beginning to speak. Aziraphale felt an onslaught of offence at being so interrupted.

"We will need another moment, thank you," Aziraphale snapped. Monsieur withered, his finger curling in pitifully. He backed off.

"My dear," Aziraphale said. He stepped around the table, edging closer to Crowley, careful to not hem him in. There would be no trapping. Crowley's amused smile from watching the waiter scurry off faded as Aziraphale drew towards him.

"My friend," Aziraphale tried gently. Crowley didn't react, so it seemed friend was allowed, but not welcome. Aziraphale sighed and accepted. He ought to wrap this conversation up else it fall entirely out of his control. "I have been cruel to you because my honesty would have done us both too much harm, but now we're-" He opened his arms and smiled. "We're loose in the world, dear. Thanks to you."

Crowley crossed his legs, facing Aziraphale but somehow more closed off from him. "You did your fair share," he mumbled.

"I had it pretty easy."

Crowley's foot tapped in the air, his discomfort was palpable. "Sit down would you, you're spooking the staff," he admonished.

Aziraphale sat. Crowley's foot continued to jump around, shaking his whole body nervously.

"You like spooky," Aziraphale said, trying all too hard to break the mood.

Crowley flashed a smile at him, but it soon dropped. He returned to frowning at his empty plate and biting his lip.

The lip biting was new. Not new in terms of their lives together, Crowley had certainly bitten his lip before, often before saying something slightly risky, but new in terms of this conversation.

Things clearly weren't over yet, spooky jokes aside. Crowley was gearing up to speak.

So Aziraphale sat and waited.

"Ach, while it's all tense like this-" Crowley said suddenly, then stopped and swallowed.

"Yes?" Aziraphale asked

"I've been-" His legs went still, his hand flexed once, then he frowned like he was furious, glaring down at his lap as Aziraphale had earlier. "I've manipulated you and ignored your refusals these years, you should know I won't anymore."

Aziraphale was rather saddened by that. Crowley had attempted to manipulate him, yes, but Aziraphale’s refusals had always been lies. It was a complicated past, very little truth but a good deal of kindness behind the lies.

"You can doubt me-" Crowley snapped. Then he winced and shook his head tightly. "You should. You should."

"Oh, it is messy, isn't it?" Aziraphale sighed. For he did doubt Crowley, but he didn't want to.

"We've not been very good to each other," Crowley said through gritted teeth.

"We've not had the opportunity. Would you like to try?"

"Try how?"

"Well," Aziraphale said carefully. It occurred to him that it was important to have choice here. He must offer Crowley an escape, all too often Crowley did as he was asked and Aziraphale didn't want to risk that. "If you want to leave, I'll understand. But if not, then-"

"Back up, angel," Crowley interrupted,"why the fuck would I leave?"

Aziraphale's lip quivered, but he cut that out pretty fast. He could still control hi external appearance forcibly, if not his internal emotions. He thought of his point as he spoke it, unprepared to speak like this but doing so because Crowley wanted it.

"You've been aloof, and, yes, on occasion rude, Crowley. But I have been downright mean. I have taken your love and turned it against you so many times. I would understand if the thought of further effort exhausts you."

Crowley put his hands flat on the table, leaning forwards with bent elbows to glare up at Aziraphale from over his glasses. "I have done so much for you-"

"I know, and I'm grateful-"

"You think there's an end in sight for me? I'm here forever, angel, and I'm happy for it."

Aziraphale froze, the misery in him relaxing for just long enough for Crowley's words to make it through to him. And those words sounded a lot like a profession of love, a vow of some kind. A real thing.

Aziraphale's chest tightened, his face burned, and he felt dizzy. He smiled, hope filling him, completely sure he was blushing but not willing to spend a miracle stopping it. He put his face in his hands, half-heartedly hiding his doubtlessly red cheeks, and avoided meeting Crowley's eyes.

There was love between them. Beautiful and tentative. Unspoken but for Aziraphale's reference to it a minute ago.

"When I said love before I meant metaphorically," Aziraphale mumbled into his hands.

"No you didn't," Crowley said.

Aziraphale's insides lurched like he might be sick, but inside of writhing they fluttered. Butterflies, he thought ridiculously, that old adage withstands a test. "No, I didn't," he admitted.

"Good," Crowley said sharply. Aziraphale looked up and found Crowley resting on folded arms, plate pushed aside to allow him to lean close. They were still a good few feet apart, but it felt near. "I think I understand the trust thing you were banging on about."

Aziraphale lowered his hands. "Oh yes?"

Crowley knocked his head to the side casually. Aziraphale recognised the movement, it was one of his more practiced casual ticks. And on further inspection his keen posture was tense, his mouth set in a tight, uncomfortable line.

"Old trust out of date. New trust coming," Crowley said.

"That sounds right. Are you okay? You seem-"

"I can hear my fucking pulse," Crowley snarled.

Ah. Perhaps a bit too much. Aziraphale didn't feel entirely solid himself, it was all a bit overwhelming. And difficult.

"I think- yes, time for lunch," Aziraphale agreed, turning and waving Monsieur over.

#sleepy speaks #its a nice conversation #i like this #its a little bit exactly how aziraphale would expect it to ho really #but thats ok #sleepy writes #i really gotta get better about remembering that writes tag #good omens #good omens ficlet #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale

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deniigi · 4 years ago

Note

Jack and the other folks at the gym; how they met, what their relationships are like, how they are with Matt etc.

For you, anon. I have an old fic that answers all of these questions.

It’s written from the perspective of Jack’s best friend and sparring partner Rudy DeLuca.

Title: Tape

Summary: There were two generations of devils at Fogwell’s Gym

Warnings: child abuse, physical abuse, references to drug use and suicide/suicide attempts, and foster care

-------------

There was a famed baby at the gym at the moment and Rudy was scheming how to get it into his arms when the old man caught him leaning on the front desk and told him that he had two whole grandbabies waitin’ for him at home.

Matty took that moment to fly in from the back room where he’d been harrassing the shit out of the new ‘clerk’ (as Fogwell called him) to ask if Tina had finally popped.

Rudy was caught off guard by the image of Tina beating the shit out of Matt for that and then by the wave of nostalgia that the kid’s sudden enthusiasm bought.

“Well, look who’s here?” he drawled instead, slowly turning around towards the beast. “Where you been, neighbor?”

Matt beamed at him.

He looked good.

Happy.

Far, far too happy.

Rudy squinted.

Matt waited a beat, then scrambled back into staff entrance and knocked shit over on the desk back there in his haste to go hide behind Fogwell.

Uh-huh.

Yeah.

That’s right, troublemaker, go hide behind Grandpa. He’ll protect you, you little shit.

The new gym baby was a full two months old. He was fat and grumpy and his papa’s pride and joy already. Rudy managed to snag an opportunity to get the thing into his arms when Bert and Kenny came in, signaling for the youths that the senior citizen shift had begun.

Fogwell was the most distinguished of the senior citizens, but, of course, he would wait his turn until the rest of them had finished lavishing attention upon his fiftieth great-grandbaby.

Baby’s papa was proud as a peacock.

“His name’s Henry,” he told Rudy, while Henry wrinkled his nose and eyes up at him.

Henry.

Ehn.

Terrible name.

“He looks like a John,” Rudy said.

Papa, who Rudy had forgotten the name of at least six times since he’d joined the gym, laughed.

“I thought about callin’ him Jack,” he said. “But my girl drew the line there.”

Ah.

Right.

This was that kid.

Kenny had gathered everyone into a group huddle in the changing room the other week to explain seriously how they all needed to avoid the fuck out of this guy. He’d said in a whisper that the guy was one of them people into vintage shit.

A hipster, he meant.

A fuckin’ hipster in their midst.

God, there were more and more of them in the gym every day.

Rudy lifted an eyebrow at baby Henry.

He didn’t deserve to be called Henry. He really did look more like a John. But, for the sake of the dead, Rudy decided that he’d squint for as hard and long as it took for him to become a Henry.

---

Fogwell’s had been legendary back in the day for producing pro boxers out of good-for-nothin’, trouble-makin’ guys with no other prospects.

Fogwell was that general from Mulan who made men out of boys (and the occasional girl. And the most recent kid who said that they weren’t a guy or a gal and if anyone wanted to throw down about it, they were posting their number on the cork board by the front desk).

Back in Rudy’s youth, that had been appealing as hell. And so he’d had a swagger on into the place, thinking that maybe he would pop his guns a bit in Fogwell’s direction and get the polishing he needed to make enough money to buy his girl a ring.

On the upside, Fogwell had, in fact, noticed him. But the downside was that Rudy had had no fucking clue what that actually meant, and so three years later, he’d found himself smoking only twice a week instead of every day, drinking goddamn protein shakes, and doing a daily fuckin’ jog like a military brat.

Fogwell had no time for dumb shit. He didn’t care if you wanted to kill yourself slowly with whatever vice you picked from the basket, but if you walked into the ring with his name on your back, then you would disgrace that name on pain of divine retribution.

It was way easier just to get one step ahead of the guy’s nit-picking than to suffer his judgemental silence.

That had been Fogwell back in the day, and that was still Fogwell in the now.

But as with any force of nature, even if the old man had planted his feet and announced his intention to rest there in that place for the next two millenia, the world around him still carried on spinning around.

Fogwell’s wasn’t just a facility for churning out pros these days. It wasn’t just legendary, now.

It was a fuckin’ institution.

God help them.

They were a tourist destination. Ghost hunters, folks on buses, sports fans, teen girls with a mighty need for a vintage-lookin’ selfie. You name it. They pressed their noses up against the yellowed glass to watch the people inside break their bodies down to build them up into something money-making.

It wasn’t an unwarranted curiosity, to be fair.

Fogwell had produced twenty pro boxers in the last several decades who’d really made it. Like, really, really made it.

Bert was one of them—to literally every one of the senior citizens’ surprise.

Bert had been a empty-headed wise-guy with a porn-stache at best way back when. And like, don’t get Rudy wrong, he was still an empty-headed wise-guy. He was just an empty-headed wise guy with a head like a helmet and a whole lot of money now.

Not that you’d have known it from lookin’ at him.

Bless him.

He was paying college tuition for all his kids and he was helping the older ones vet kindergartens with tuition or what the fuck ever, doing all that he could so that those babies didn’t have to live life out of Kraft Mac ‘n Cheese boxes like him.

Bert had made it. That was the dream.

The dream was just that, though. A shot in the dark. A drop in a bucket. Kenny had done alright, just like Rudy had done alright. They’d had their ten minutes of time in the spotlight. Had made enough to get by. Had made enough to be comfortable in Hell’s Kitchen. To retire and become personal trainers or sports commentators or whatever the fuck opportunity jumped up in their faces.

A lot of fellas hadn’t made it, though. And then there were the Almosts.

Jackie had been an Almost, god rest his soul.

This new hipster kid at the gym with his baby had latched onto Jack’s image, found in old magazines and grainy footage, and had decided that that whole vibe fit the image that he wanted to live in.

It made Rudy sick. It made Kenny angry—hence the group huddle.

There were about seven of them left who’d both known Jackie and who still used the gym on the regular. Eight if you included Fogwell.

Nine if you included Matty.

Jesus fuckin’ help them.

This dumbass hipster kid didn’t even know who Matty was. Most of the newcomers didn’t. He was just some bright, perky blind guy to them. He was Center-Left-Second-Back bag. That was his bag.

And he was good.

He was a curiosity to the newcomers and the people pressed against glass—one of a handful of middle-weights in a sea of heavyweights. He didn’t look like everyone else. He wasn’t packing muscle like everyone else. He was lithe and coiled and looked, honestly, a little out of place to folks who didn’t know the gym as Home #2.

He was interesting to the newcomers mostly because he was 100% Fogwell’s favorite. Fogwell doted on him by ribbing him and bullying him viciously, by bumping into him and throwing him off mark left and right, and all the while, Matty just beamed.

The newbies thought he got preferential treatment because he was blind. But that wasn’t it. Matty got treated that way because that was how his grandpa told him he loved him.

---

Before Jake and Carlos and Omar and Matty, Jack had been Fogwell’s favorite up-and-coming rookie.

It had been no secret. Well. To most people.

Jack had been horrified when he’d found out.

No one wanted to be Fogwell’s favorite. That’s how you went pro whether you liked it or fucking not.

Jack had pleaded with Kenny for hours to take his place, but there was nothing that could be done. Jackie was the youngest and Jackie had come from a shit home life and Jackie would do anything and everything Fogwell told him to do because he was just that kind of sweet and respectful.

Fogwell could smell Jack’s lack of a father-figure on him like Chanelle No. 5.

He could smell it miles away.

Jack had actually been at the gym before Rudy had joined up. He’d been around since he was about seventeen. He’d come in on the heels of his big brother who wanted to go pro.

It quickly became apparent to Fogwell that Tom Murdock didn’t have what it took to be a boxer. He was just a bully. But that little brother of his, Tom’s punching bag, now he had some talent. He had the diligence and respect that the game, in Fogwell’s opinion, was severely lacking.

So Fogwell did what he did best and drove a wedge slowly between Tom and baby Jackie, separating the two of them so that he could get his mitts on Jackie and do something with him before Tom and his junkie sister took Jackie down with them.

Rudy had met Jack soon after Jack’s eldest brother had been arrested for murdering his wife and stepdaughter.

The kid was a wreck. He’d just turned 18.

He didn’t talk. He just fought and fought and fought until he cried and cried and cried. All on his own, from 5pm to 1am, at Center-Left-Second-Back.

Fogwell let him.

Fogwell came over to put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed when he finally dropped from exhaustion.

It was hard to watch.

The older guard at the time had bared their teeth and clenched their jaws as Jackie had pummeled his heart out against that bag.

No one could help him.

Everyone but Rudy, at that time, had seen the man he’d walked into the gym with. They’d seen this coming a mile away. And over a few days of that, it become clear to Rudy that Jack didn’t have a home to go back to that didn’t scream at him from morning until night. At that time, the gym for him was Home #1.

---

It took about a year, but Rudy eventually got to know this weeping, heartbroken boy from the worst side of the Kitchen.

Rudy learned from the others about the Murdocks.

They were sinners and drunkards and addicts, word had it. The police were always in and out of their rooms, taking one of the five kids or one of the parents to jail for some damn reason or another. Neighbors wasted their hard-earned money on phone calls to the police for domestic disputes and violence and so on and so on. Everyone on the streets said to be careful of the Murdocks, especially them boys.

They got the devil in ‘em.

But not Jackie, Rudy learned.

He was shy, bless him. He wasn’t suited to those others’ kind of life.

Rudy actually had felt, for the second time in his life, strong brotherly feelings around this kid. He and his own sister didn’t get on until someone threatened the other. Then it was no-holds-barred, bear-like feelings. Just them against the world.

But Jack was different. He had puppy eyes with a constant black one and perpetually chapped lips. It had never occurred to him that he could spend a buck buying chapstick. It had never occurred to him that he could have friends that he didn’t have to smile at until his face hurt.

He didn’t really get what it meant to have relationships with other people and for the first six months of their acquaintance, Jack refused to meet Rudy’s eye, much less say more than five words to him.

He was more than respectful.

He was skittish.

The other guys, who were happy to haze Rudy, warned him that he if so much as looked at that kid, Fogwell would break his bones and his career would be over before it even started.

It had definitely turned into a kind of spite thing.

Rudy had absolutely been that kind of shithead back then.

He’d started by offering to hold Jack’s bag while he worked out his aggression. That had been a mistake.

He’d caught Fogwell snickering at him about ten minutes into it, after trying and failing that whole time to find a way to plant his feet that would let him actually hold onto the bag.

Jack had noticed.

Jack had gotten flustered and freaked out bad enough that Rudy had been forced to leave him be or else he’d hyperventilate or go hide in the backroom in a cupboard or something in self-flagellation.

It took some practice and some muscle, but they got there in the end.

Jack was a great sparring partner because he did not fucking go down. It was like trying to fight a pine tree sometimes. He would, could, and did take hit after hit without batting an eye.

And when it was his turn for offense?

Rudy was well aware that he’d signed up to be a human punching bag, but this? This was a lot.

Fogwell critiqued the fuck out of Jack’s everything.

His form.

His posture.

His aim.

His drive.

His commitment.

His tape.

His fucking hair.

Jack thought he was like that with everyone.

Rudy loved that kid like a brother, but he wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box. Not by far.

That had become more clear when Kenny joined their mottley crew and, aggravatingly sharp, had taken to teasing Jack. That was more frustrating for Kenny than anyone else because Jackie didn’t get a single joke or jibe.

No, Jack didn’t know Seinfield. Or Friends. Or Charlie’s Angels. No, he didn’t know anything about cars. No, he didn’t know about physics or chemistry or math. What the fuck was English lit? Wait, what’s the difference between books and literature?

God.

Bless.

That.

Kid.

He wasn’t unintelligent, he just wasn’t academic.

He was sweet about it, though. The youngest of five, he had no choice but to be sweet because all his siblings called him hopeless and useless and stupid, so he had to be something and so pretty it was.

Rudy had never met someone who performed so well under pressure and around two years into their friendship and, suddenly privy to the full extent of Jack’s honestly horrific, borderline surreal upbringing, he finally got it.

But then along came Grace.

The Lord’s agent herself.

Jack was a good Catholic boy who saw a nun and dropped his eyes, but for some reason, this novice caught his gaze and he was gone.

He got dopey and dreamy the night after she and some friends had snuck out in their novice habits to see a load of guys in desperate need of the Lord hitting on each other.

It was tooth-decaying the way Jack swooned for that girl.

Her name was Margaret, she told him saucily at the church one street over from the one he’d grown up attending, but he could call her ‘Grace.’

Jack banged his melon on a locker a week later at the gym and the jolt make him realize that he was in love with her.

He cracked his head a second time with everyone watching him in a mix of pity, exhaustion, and indulgence and then scurried off to the bathroom to hyperventilate over a urinal.

“Someone go keep Baby M from drowning in a sink,” Horace Whalin, a professional beast at the start of his career, had sighed.

Everyone had looked right at Rudy.

---

Grace was the worst thing that could ever have happened to Jack.

Everyone at the gym knew it. Fogwell hated that girl with a cold passion.

She made Jack stupider than usual. Bolder than ever.

She made him think and made him question things and like, that was probably a good thing in terms of Jack’s life experience and mental health, but in terms of boxing?

Not good.

Fogwell was openly dreaming up schemes to break them up the day Jack came tearing into the gym and announced that he was getting married.

It took everything in Rudy not to start cackling right then and there. The entire gym’s necklines bulged with the effort not to fucking laugh. Fogwell went silent and blank.

He’d waved Jack in close and and when he came—because he would always come to Fogwell, no matter what—the old man set a hand on Jack’s shoulder and told him that if he brought that woman into the gym he’d kill him.

Jack stared up at him and said that they were getting married in a church, Coach. Why would he bring her to the gym?

At that point, it would have taken a saint not to laugh and the gym was full of only sinners.

---

Grace was the worst thing that had ever happened to Jack, but Matty was by far, the best thing.

Fogwell, after being vindicated upon Jack and Grace’s abrupt and tragic separation, found that Matt could be used as a motivator for his up-and-comer.

Matty, of course, played the part beautifully.

He was unfairly cute with those delicate, whispy red locks and them big hazel eyes. He was bubbly and chatty. An unrelenting troublemaker. Just a barrel of laughs.

Fogwell took to letting Jack put Matty’s carrier on a bench next to the ring or on one of the metal bleachers around the mats in the weights and sparring room. He found that if Matty started whining or crying, that Jack got twice as motivated to finish whatever task was at hand with maximum efficiency.

Matt was the best thing to ever happen to Jack’s boxing career, truly.

He also immediately became the gym’s darling because all the veterans there at that point were dads. Rudy himself had had his first girl Tina the year before, but unlike Jack, the rest of them had childcare arrangements and the money to maintain them.

---

It was just natural for people to gravitate towards the baby. Out of paternal instincts, yeah, but also because Matty was a source of constant entertainment.

He called everyone uncle until he was seven and he needed to be negotiated with to leave Fogwell be until he was nine. Fogwell didn’t mind him. Fogwell had unwittingly adopted him.

Matty didn’t meet his own uncles and grandpa. Jack couldn’t bear that. He took Matty to meet Bill, Jack’s eldest brother—the one who’d killed his wife—in jail and afterwards had been heart-broken and anxious for days.

Grace did not approve, it turned out.

Grace, who went by Maggie at that point, and who had given up her rights to be the mother of Jack’s child, remained one of Jack’s closest and dearest friends.

They still loved each other, and in Fogwell’s very correct opinion, that was nothing but trouble. He snatched Matty at every opportunity and informed him softly but firmly that he was not going to fall in love with a nun when he was big or there would be consequences.

Matt seemed to have come to understand this rule over time, but he never seemed to put together pieces as to why Fogwell was so insistent about it.

---

When Jack turned up murdered, everyone at the gym decided that it was their fault.

It was surreal.

Unbelieveable.

He’d been right there, just fine, laughing and smiling the day before. Rudy had held his bag and Jack had told him to tell the girls and Mel that he missed them.

And, in a moment of crushing realization back then, Rudy had understood the implications of those words and then remembered how good Jack had always been about smiling at people.

He knew how to make himself seem okay and unimportant. He knew how to fade into the background.

Fogwell took it hard.

He blamed himself for not recognizing how bad things had gotten at home for Jack and Matty. He blamed himself for not booking him for more jobs, for pushing him harder and harder on his form lately.

Matty was taken away by social services and his absence from the table at the gym the next day finally brought out the tears that Rudy hadn’t been able to let fall.

He tried.

He tried, he did.

Over the years, Matty had become a brother to Tina, Angie, and Penelope. He fit right in that two-year gap between Tina and Angie. Rudy had him over when Jack worked and Jack had the girls when Mel needed a break from the screaming and crying. And really, by then, everyone’s kids were everyone’s at the gym.

It wasn’t a matter of who belonged to who, it was more of a matter of when someone belonged to someone.

Rudy tried to get custody or at least foster rights. Mel gave herself an ulcer over it, trying to think of how to arrange things to make their home safe for Matt. Trying to think of how to make space for him. He could share a room with Tina. They were still young. They probably wouldn’t mind after some growing pains. But social services said that that wasn’t possible. Matt was too high-risk for them. They didn’t have enough experience with ‘his type of child.’

Which was bullshit.

Matt wasn’t high-risk, Matty was traumatized and scared and with people he didn’t know, who didn’t know him.

That was what made him high-risk.

He knew Rudy and Mel’s house. He knew their girls. He knew their neighborhood.

Still, nothing.

Fogwell himself tried. Shocked the shit out of everyone at the gym, but Social services sadly shook their heads.

By then, Matt had been placed out already.

---

Matt disappeared for five years. Just vanished completely. There was no sight of him until one day, Tina came home and said that ‘oh yeah, I saw Matty today’ while playing with her food at the dinner table.

Rudy and Mel had set down their forks.

Tina sighed and said that he was taller now, but he didn’t look good.

He looked sick, she said. With dark rings around his eyes and broken sunglasses. He’d been sleeping, leaning against the side of some stairs out in his school uniform at the Catholic highschool a few blocks away.

She’d poked at her chicken and then set down her fork and excused herself.

Rudy stroked her hair that night as she cried into her pillow for her lost brother.

---

Matt was, by fifteen, a troubled kid.

Rudy heard shouting one day from Clinton Church and stepped out to see what was happening. He was shocked to see that familiar ginger mop struggling in the arms of two cops, swearing that if these people took him back to wherever he’d come from, that he’d kill himself. He’d do it. Don’t try him.

The priest was called.

Matt was forced down to the ground and handcuffed, still fighting.

It was--it was a whole lot to see. Kenny swore softly behind him and Bert left them to go back inside. He went to the bathroom and didn’t join them out on the mats for a while.

---

Fogwell decided around then that enough was enough.

He went to the church and asked if he could borrow Matt for a while. He needed some help getting his accounts together and he knew Matt was a bright kid. Giving him a little work experience in a familiar and disciplined setting would be good for him.

But Matt wasn’t there.

---

The hospital didn’t allow anyone to visit Matt. He apparently hadn’t earned the privilege of visitors from anyone who wasn’t on his care team.

Rudy felt numb at the front desk.

Jack’s boy had tried to kill himself. He’d warned them all that he would do it.

He’d apparently screamed himself hoarse that he wanted to be with his dad in the ground.

He was still screaming.

This wasn’t the first time he’d done any of this, Rudy came to learn through a few whispered conversations with some nuns from St. Agnes.

Grace had found him after the three attempts the nuns knew of. This last one was just bad enough that she couldn’t bring him back from the edge.

Grace’s eldest younger sister had committed suicide. Grace had found her and then left home immediately become a novice. To find her own son as she’d once found her sister was cosmic and divine cruelty—enough that even Fogwell shook his head and said it just wasn’t right.

---

The first time Rudy saw Matty after the whole situation, he looked exactly as Tina said he did. Tired. With dark circles. Thin. His clothes threatened to fall off of him. They were threadbare and had holes in them here and there.

Matty didn’t talk.

He moved his head around a lot and jerked when anyone spoke to him or brushed against him, and he scrambled back and tripped sometimes if he was touched directly.

It was like looking at a smaller, thinner version of Jack all those years ago—this time with tightly bound wrists and a hospital bracelet that looked like it had been stretched and torn and chewed on.

Fogwell asked Matt if he thought he could do something with the accounts.

Matt said nothing.

Fogwell gave him a box of receipts and bits and bobs of payment cards and IOUs and Matt had frowned and put his hand into the box to touch its feathery contents. He’d lifted his face up in Fogwell’s direction and sneered.

“You can’t seriously live like this,” he’d said in a voice that almost brought tears to Rudy’s eyes. He’d heard Kenny clear his throat behind him.

---

Matty was the smartest person Rudy had ever met.

He set Fogwell’s accounts into order in an afternoon and then he fucked off for a few days, only to come back and digitize the whole thing after making the Big Man himself sit with him and read everything out individually to him as punishment for his nasty, twentieth-century ways.

Matt was disgusted with Grandpa’s living conditions.

He banged into every object in the backroom and swore like a sailor, loud enough that the folks hitting shit in the front room could hear him.

It was hard not to laugh.

“WHY?” Matt finally raged at Grandpa. “WHY. WHY. WHY?”

Grandpa shrugged.

Matt flailed at him in agitation at the lack of verbal answer and told him to get into the fartherest corner of the room and to get a pen, they were going to organize.

Matt was the reason that Fogwell’s Gym had survived for long enough to become a tourist trap.

Matt put every document in that place in order, ready for an audit. He made computer systems for payments and receipts and direct debits. He singlehandedly bullied Fogwell into the new century and made him get a card machine.

He bitched and moaned and belly-ached until Fogwell had interviewed a handful of tax people with actual, non-criminal reputations and picked one and once he was done with all that, Matt harrassed him to invest in a deep clean for the place and to make it accessible by ADA guidelines—the whole nine yards.

Matt, at fifteen, breathed new life into Fogwell’s Gym and it was kind of amazing how the place went from barely hanging on to a decent business once more.

---

After that, Matt seemed to be doing a lot better.

He didn’t have any more foster home placements. He didn’t try to hurt himself again. He decided, instead, that he was going to graduate highschool. He’d failed a fuckload of classes, though. Rudy found him despairing in the backroom over these and settled in across from him and asked to see the reports.

They weren’t good.

Matty’s teachers wrote constantly that Matt was extremely bright, but failed to participate in class or turn pretty much anything in for a grade. He slept in class. He seemed dazed. He didn’t ask for help or give any indication that he needed it.

His assigned para said that she found him challenging to work with. He was resistant to questions and seemed to be angry or, at best, uninterested in her speaking to him.

He was way behind.

Rudy had tapped the reports against the table back there and had taken a deep breath.

“It’s okay,” he told Matt. “We’ve got two years. We can make this work.”

And Matty’s head had jerked up from the table.

“We?” he’d asked in a small voice.

---

Matt really, really struggled with high school. Not because he wasn’t smart enough, but because his experience was so wildly different from other kids. He didn’t go home like they did. He went to St. Agnes’s. He didn’t play video games, he read books. He didn’t smoke cigarettes or joints. He didn’t drink. He was under constant surveillance.

He was bullied. Relentlessly.

Fogwell was quietly furious when Matt came in a few times a week to type away at the desk, inputting receipts for the new secretary to deal with later. Matt was always hurt. Always fighting.

He got his classwork done out of spite, seemingly, but then went home to the orphanage and got harrassed the whole way.

He fought his peers like the devil himself.

It was…

There was…

Something not quite right with him.

---

Bert pointed out when Matt was seventeen that he didn’t always use his stick like other blind folks. He forgot it sometimes and wandered around the gym like anyone else.

He didn’t trip over anything or keep fingers touching the wall like he usually did in other places.

They all chocked it up to him having grown up in the place.

Matt asked Fogwell to let him train.

Center-left-second-back.

That was Jack’s bag.

That was his son’s bag.

The veteran boxers all cycled through teaching Matt how to box. He knew—they all knew Matt already knew how, but there was always shit to learn.

Except that sometimes there wasn’t?

Matt seemed to already know everything that they taught him, including the nit-picky, little things. He listened to their descriptions, let them manipulate his hands and arms and hips, and then did what they asked immediately and with perfect form.

It was eerie.

It just wasn’t right. There was just something about it that wasn’t right. Rudy couldn’t put his finger on it.

---

Matt graduated highschool the year after Tina and it was only when Rudy saw the draft of the commencement program slip out of his bag on one of the benches that Rudy realized that Matty hadn’t mentioned it to anyone.

He picked up the program while Matt was attacking his bag and considered it, then did what was done in the gym and handed the program off to Fogwell who, in a booming voice, told Baby M to get the fuck over there, front and center.

Matt clung to his bag in terror at the sound. He, unlike his daddy, had the good sense to be reluctant to follow Fogwell’s orders. Eventually, with his tail between his legs, he skulked over and had his nose shoved in the program.

He pawed at it when Fogwell made him acknowledge it and mumbled something about not going.

Which was absurd.

“It’s not a big deal,” Matt said. “I’m not valedictorian or anything. It’s just highschool. And no one’s got time to go anyways, so what’s the point if it’s just me?”

God, this kid.

---

Matt’s graduation was very Catholic. Far more Catholic than Tina’s had been, but when Rudy looked over his shoulder, he was pretty sure that even a school this Catholic hadn’t been prepared for the influx of nuns hurrying down from Clinton’s church, all bustling and excited about young Matthew actually getting his diploma.

Between those four (aw, Grace. Look at you trying to play it smooth) and the seven boxing families who’d shown up, Matt was embarrassed to the point of tears. He’d hidden behind his mortarboard for the thirty minutes it took for people started calling folks up on stage.

He didn’t want to come out to take any pictures afterwards, but Tina wasn’t letting that happen. Her sisters leapt on board with the program and Rudy had managed at least one picture of the four of them smiling. Even better, he had one of Matt trying desperately to keep a smile while Fogwell stood stiffly next to him in stone-faced approval.

---

Matty was the first in the gym’s kid’s generation to graduate college, and then he was the only one to go on to law school.

It was only at that big graduation that Rudy finally saw Matt beaming like a loon—like he had up at Jack as a baby, but this time at the long-haired, chubby guy next to him.

This, legend had it, was the Roommate.

The one Matt refused to speak about to anyone at the gym.

Period.

At all.

There was no discussion.

That is, until he was forced by Fogwell standing menacingly over him in silent demand for a hug, to introduce them all to Foggy.

Foggy Nelson.

And then, just like that. It was exactly Jack all over again.

Veins bulging as everyone tried desperately not to laugh at Fogwell’s face at the realization that Matty had gone out and found a better, nicer Fog-person to be friends with.

---

Foggy Nelson—Edward Nelson from the hardware store’s son—was not fucking good enough for Matty, Fogwell decided. He’d begun a stoic campaign to introduce Matt to every available boxer’s son and daughter in the city in the hopes that a little nudge would get Matty away from all them conniving lawyer-folk. That was all fine and well with Matt because Matt, they’d all learned after a few years in his company again, was a horrendous flirt.

God, this boy.

Incorrigible.

He flirted with Tina and Angie and Penelope and got slapped every time.

He flirted with Bert’s daughter Becka.

He flirted with Becka’s husband.

He flirted with Kenny’s son’s best friend at the son’s wedding.

He flirted with the new secretary’s sister-in-law.

He was completely unstoppable.

Kenny approved.

But Kenny also asked Matt pointedly if he and his roommate had worked things out yet and that sent Matt scowling and shuffling off to go hide behind Fogwell, wherever he was, for emotional support.

---

Matt was Daredevil.

He had to be.

Everyone in the gym suspected this.

He was too good at fighting. To flexible. Too sturdy and relentless and angry to be anyone else. They all recogized his shoulders in those little blips of videos people posted online. They recognized how close he got to people from the way he get up in his bag’s imagined face.

He had some kind of superpower—some kind of 360 degree awareness was the best Rudy could describe it.

He felt like he remembered Jack freaking out about something like this a million years ago. Nattering on about super-senses in the aftermath of the accident.

Fogwell was the one who’d brought it up again after he’d noticed that Matt liked to come in at night and spar on his own.

One time, just once, he’d left one of the security cameras on, concerned that Matty might get mugged in the night on his own there.

But Matty wasn’t getting mugged anytime soon.

No, for real.

Matt was…maybe something a little beyond them.

The video Fogwell had shown the older guys before deleting it and telling everyone to mind their own fucking business had shown Matt throwing his weight at the bag—throwing legs and fists—in complicated, almost choreographed movements that spoke of lethal intent.

He moved like a weasel. Like a predator.

Like a devil.

God knew where he’d learned those moves. The boy had lived a lot of life in those few years he’d fallen off of the gym’s radar. There was no telling who he’d met or how he’d learned to be as he was, but things made a lot more sense after that.

Jackie had had a devil in him. It only made sense that his dramatic-ass kid had one, too.

Matty had made something more of himself than his daddy. In so many other things, but in this, too.

Fogwell’s Gym was protected. It was home to a devil in disguise.

---

The hipster Jack-fan appeared with baby Henry a few more times before Bert asked him if he knew that his hero’s kid, who’d lived the life baby Henry was currently living, was actually a regular at the gym.

Hipster-kid gaped and fell over himself trying to ask Bert if he could meet the guy.

Bert smirked. And then waved across the place over to where Matt had just slithered in with absurd orange sneakers that he was very proud of. He was clearly on the hunt to go show Fogwell so that he could be disgusted.

He froze when Bert called his name.

The hipster’s jaw dropped.

“Matty, come tell this man about your daddy,” Bert said.

Matt stared.

Then made a sad, aborted gesture with his free hand that said that he had very important annoyances to make of himself, so could this maybe wait?

“You’re—you’re--?” the hipster stammered.

“Matt Murdock,” Matt said hurriedly. “Great to meet you? You’re the one with the kid, right? Congrats. Have either of you seen Fogwell?”

The hipster blinked.

“Uh?” he said. “Not today?”

Matt scowled.

“He’s not escaping these,” he said, tapping his way angrily back to the door. “I got him a matching set. No one is escaping them.”

The gym at large watched him stalk back out the door, tapping away furiously, no doubt on the way down the block to Fogwell’s house.

“That’s Matt Murdock?” the hipster asked.

“Man, I thought he’d be taller,” another newbie said.

“Kid, that is the least of your problems when it comes to Matt Murdock,” Bert laughed. “Now, all of you, back to work. This ain’t a dog and pony show. Go on.”

---

#daredevil #fic #ficlet #jack murdock

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