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because-of-a-friend · 3 years ago

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Enemies to Lovers!Jeonghan

MASTERLIST

One day I will come up with titles for my works lol.

Hi Hannah!!!! Thanks for requesting! I loved doing this one! I went ahead and went with Jeonghan cuz I feel like he fits this trope best! Sorry you had to wait so long, this particular fic got deleted like... three times so it was a struggle lol. I hope it’s what you were looking for!

I hope this is a good one, I’m realizing I get real insecure about my writing anytime I’m not doing a bulletpoint or reaction fic, so I don’t feel great about this time. Also I only started recently putting actual detail into my kiss scenes and idk how I’m doing with those???? Like do they seem ok??? Also I feel like I make it so obvious that I am such a sucker for SVT having cute nicknames for siblings, friends, partners, etc in fics lol. Anyways...

Also, I really said: Jeonghan... but in different types of lighting

Remember I don’t own the gif! Link to OP is right there if you want to go give the creator some love!!!

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: Mentions eating, reader is using female pronouns (I will keep things gn unless you request differently), I think that’s it, pls let me know if I missed any

You’re not sure exactly how it happened. It was probably just an instance of getting off on the wrong foot, that led to more awkward interactions, giving both of you the wrong impression of each other. You knew this, you could rationalize it all. You were well aware that all it would take was one “I think we might have the wrong idea of each other” conversation and it would all be over. You could easily fix it all, but…

But his stupid smug face. The sarcastic jokes. The never-ending pranks that were not as funny as he thought they were. His ridiculous arrogance. His overall unapologetic nature towards all of it.

You couldn’t help but hate Yoon Jeonghan.

*****

“I don’t know, Wonnie…” you say uneasily over the phone. In previous years, you’d go over to the dorm without hesitation. You loved spending time with your brother and many of the other boys. But ever since you had officially met and begun interacting with Jeonghan…

“C’mon, [Y/N]! I bought that new game you were talking about! We can play it together on my gaming system!” Wonwoo began to persuade. You knew you’d give in; you always did. Your brother was far too sweet a person and far too comforting a presence to reject. The question was how long did you want to argue with him about going to the dorm.

You sighed, accepting defeat early to save time, “I’ll head over there in a bit.”

Wonwoo gives a small cry of victory, “Ok, I’ll have Gyu make extra ramen.” Wonwoo abruptly hangs up the phone right after, leaving you in silence to groan in regret of your decision.

You immediately straighten yourself out, though, trying to put yourself in a mindset of determination. What were you thinking? Just because you and that asshole didn’t get along meant you couldn’t go see your own twin brother without feeling uncomfortable? Screw that! If he wanted to keep the peace then he was going to have to start watching where he stepped around you.

*****

You knocked loud and clear on the door of their dorm, knowing that with thirteen people living inside, it was usually too noisy for them to hear someone signal their arrival. To your relief, Seungcheol opened the door just moments after you knocked and greeted you with a warm smile followed by a hand sneaking into your hair to ruffle it, “Hey there, kiddo! How’s it hanging?”

“Just fine,” you tilt your head down slightly in his direction as you pass him to enter the dorm. “How are things here?” As soon as you ask, your ears are met with the noise of someone dropping something in the kitchen, followed by Seungkwan crying in alarm.

“Same as always, I supposed,” Seungcheol sighs, but his smile doesn’t fade. “I think Mingyu and Wonwoo are already in the computer room, if you want to go ahead and see them!”

“Ok, thanks Cheol!” you call as you both rush off in different directions, him towards the kitchen and you towards the small room that would provide you solace from the possibility of having to see Yoon Jeonghan.

You were determined not to let things go how they usually did: you with your mouth clamped shut as Jeonghan spoke whatever teasing words he had saved up for you, and the most you can do to fight back is by rolling your eyes and finding any way to get away from him.

This time, you would still avoid contact with him, but if it happened, you’d speak your mind and not care what he thought, since that’s how he treated you.

But there was no sign of him or anyone else as you walked to the computer room. You could hear Mingyu and Wonwoo yelling and cheering at the game long before you opened the door. It was pitch black inside, the piercing light of the screen making you squint your eyes.

The two men inside both turn immediately to check who offended their dark space with the soft, yellow light from the hallway.

“Oh [Y/N], you came!” Mingyu beams up at you. You nod, matching his bright expression.

“How’s the game?” you ask simply, looking up to your brother.

“We like it so far,” Wonwoo’s smile is wide, he always gets excited about new games, whether they’re good or not. He leans over to grab a can of some sort of energy drink before gulping it down. “We left some ramen for you over there on the table. Eat first, then I’ll let you have a turn.”

You roll your eyes, though Wonwoo was only mere minutes older than you, he found those moments to be enough leverage to order you around and act like you should be dependent on his care. There were times when he even referred to himself as “oppa” to you and insisted that you do the same.

Most of the time you let it slide, especially when you weren’t in the mood to argue. However, there were times when you’d pull out the “We’re the same age,” “Even if you’re older, I’m smarter,” or “Don’t boss me around when I’m more mature than you” cards at the drop of a hat.

“Can you at least turn on the LEDs while I eat?” you ask, tip-toeing in the darkness towards the table at the back end of the room. You hear a click before a soft blue glow fills the room, finally giving you a clear view of your path. You pull the bowl of ramen towards you as you sit and resist the urge to comment on how little they left you. The dorm was filled with food anyways, you could find more later if you got hungry again.

Wonwoo and Mingyu begin to eagerly tell you what they like about the game as you eat. You listen happily, feeling safe in the presence of your brother and friend.

Then of course…

“Hey you two, Cheol wanted me to remind you that we have to get up early tomorrow,” you can’t help the sour expression that comes over your face as Jeonghan enters the room to speak to Wonwoo and Mingyu. “Oh, hey there cutie, I didn’t know you were here!” His smirk makes you sick.

“Don’t call me that,” you say bitterly into the nearly empty bowl.

Wonwoo looks nervously between you and his bandmate, well aware of the dislike you have for him. He’s grateful that you’ve always kept it so civil, but still feels bothered by the unrest between you.

Jeonghan lets out a little giggle in response, and Wonwoo feels a tug in the pit of his stomach, he wishes Jeonghan wouldn’t be so hard on you sometimes. He knows his hyung doesn’t mean anything by it, but you…

You feel your heart sink as Jeonghan steps fully into the room, striding to sit across from you at the table. You can only stare in wonder at his audacity as he slides the bowl towards himself and finishes off the ramen in one bite.

“I was eating that,” you try to keep your tone measured, attempting to keep within the balance of standing up for yourself but not starting any drama that would affect the boys.

“Go make more if you’re hungry, then,” Jeonghan says casually, making your anger positively flare.

You don’t even give your brother the chance to mediate, jumping up from your place and leaving the room, wanting to be anywhere but around that prick.

*****

“You’re leaving already?” Mingyu pouts at you.

“Gyu, I’ve been here for hours,” you laugh, stretching out your fingers as they start to prick from pain of slamming into a keyboard for so long. You had returned to the computer room but only after Jeonghan left. Part of you had wished you had done more to confront him; another part was glad you didn’t start a fight and put Wonwoo in an awkward position. “Besides all of you, as well as me have to get up early tomorrow, it’s already late. I need to get back home.”

“You can stay here,” Wonwoo was quick to offer.

You shook your head at him, “Then I’ll just have to get up even earlier, I’ll go back to my place.” Wonwoo nods almost reluctantly, standing to walk you out.

All of you run into Joshua on your way to the front door, he turns out to be the only one smart enough to ask how you got there.

“Oh, I took the bus,” you say slowly, knowing this is about to cause issues.

“Well, the last one would have already stopped running by now,” Mingyu says looking at the time on his phone.

“I’ll give you a ride,” Josh offers immediately.

You bring your hands up to shake them back and forth, “No, no, I can find a way home, you all need to go to bed.”

“[Y/N],” Wonwoo speaks up immediately in that stern voice you hate but also can’t help but listen to, “let Josh take you home. It’s either that or you stay here, I won’t have you walking around alone at night.” Wonwoo waits a moment to gauge your expression. He finally nods affirmatively, before speaking directly to Joshua, “Take her home, please.”

Joshua nods before walking off to grab his keys. You and Wonwoo send Mingyu off to bed. Once you’re alone, your brother pulls you in for a tight hug. “Do you want me to say something to him?” he asks lowly.

You shake your head, “I don’t want to cause any problems with you guys.” You sit in silence for a moment. “Come and stay over with me sometime, I miss our sleepovers.”

Joshua comes back and Wonwoo pulls away, “Thanks, hyung. Please get her home safe.” For the second time that night, your hair gets ruffled before your brother disappears to go off to bed.

The ride home with Joshua is comfortable. He speaks kindly to you and makes you smile.

You begin to wonder how amongst all these angels, there exists a person like Yoon Jeonghan.

*****

Wonwoo used the new game as leverage to guilt you into coming over quite often in the following weeks. You hadn’t realized how much you had limited your time at the dorm until you started going consistently once more. It was nice being able to spend time with the boys again. You hated that Jeonghan had become such an unbearable presence that it affected your relationship with the rest of your friends.

But ever since you had started to stand your ground and talk back, he had finally begun to avoid you. You supposed it was only fun for him when you sat there and took it.

It didn’t stop the two of you from bickering when you saw each other, but now both of you preferred to avoid each other instead of Jeonghan seeking you out to tease you.

The following weeks of visiting were fairly comfortable. Whenever Jeonghan wasn’t around, you got to spend plenty of time with the other boys and your brother. Plus, the new video game was even better than expected.

Jeonghan’s presence slowly became uncomfortable in a different way.

Instead of being smug and overbearing, he became strangely quiet around you. His facial expressions became more serious as he sent genuine glares your way before letting out bitter remarks and going on his way.

It made you even angrier.

Who the hell was he to torture you all this time and then act like a kicked puppy when you finally fought back???

Your anger and his bitterness slowly escalated the tension between you two. Although they were happening less frequently, the arguments between you became more serious and almost hurtful.

Whatever, you told yourself, he could do as he pleased, you wouldn’t let it affect you anymore.

*****

You stared down at your phone screen. Why? Why did it have to be here, while you were at the dorm?

The call was only five minutes. They didn’t even do it in person. Of course, they had warned that because of hard times, there’d be lay-offs soon. But they couldn’t even do it in person? And all you got was a simple “Sorry, come collect your things on Monday”??? You were a hard worker, passionate about the job, more efficient than most of your coworkers and this is how they treated you???

A part of you could’ve guessed, many of the employees your age had gotten in because of nepotism. But you didn’t want to believe that they’d just brush off all your years of hard work just to avoid stepping on the toes of higher-ups who had relative connections hired at the company.

You squatted against the wall of the hallway, still too in shock to move.

So, you simply sat in silence, for what seemed like forever.

“You good?” you had never felt worse than the exact moment his voice reached your ears.

“Go away,” you said sternly, knowing you’d be crying soon.

“Geez, forgive me for asking,” Jeonghan responds before turning to walk away. He stops abruptly after you sniffle. “So, you’re not ok?”

“No offense, Jeonghan,” you say hating the way your voice is shaking, “but you are the last person I want to speak to right now.”

There’s a heavy silence for a long moment. You silently pray that he’ll just leave. “Do you want me to get your brother?” he asks lightly.

You shake your head, “No, I don’t want to ruin the mood. I’m going to go home, just tell him I had a stomach ache.” You push yourself up and begin to walk briskly towards the door.

To your surprise, Jeonghan reaches out to stop you. You stare at his hand wrapped around your arm and wonder if you’ve ever even allowed him to touch you before. “It’s already late, let me give you a ride.”

You pull his hand off of you, “No, thanks.” You grab your coat and start to dig around in your purse to make sure you have all of your belongings.

“[Y/N],” Jeonghan’s voice rings clear in your head despite your brain feeling fuzzy. You don’t want to look at him. Who is this person that’s showing concern and speaking kindly? You don’t like it. It feels fake. It feels like a predator playing with a wounded prey. You’re just waiting for him to laugh or make a remark or do anything to make you feel worse than you already do.

But Jeonghan simply grabs the keys laying on the front table, grabs your arm once more, and leads you out to the car.

*****

The ride is suffocatingly silent. You wished he’d at least turn on some music to cover up the sound of your crying, but you remained in the quiet. You rolled down your window and stuck your head out, letting the warm night air and sound of wind comfort you. Since you were turned away from him completely, you didn’t see Jeonghan glancing over at you throughout the drive.

You couldn’t have left that car faster when you finally pulled up to your apartment.

To your dismay, Jeonghan also gets out, apparently intent on walking you up.

“You don’t have to-” you start but abruptly stop when he gives you a look telling you an emotion you don’t quite understand.

Jeonghan finally speaks when you’re riding the elevator up to your floor, “I don’t really mean it, you know.”

“Mean what?” you say weakly, starting to feel the exhaustion from crying so much.

“When I talk to you like that… I mean when I’m… rude,” he trails off, running a hand through his hair. “Usually it’s just teasing, but obviously I went too far with you. And I didn’t realize it until you started showing how upsetting it was for you. I should’ve known before that, though.”

“You seemed ruder after I started talking back,” you say, confused.

“I was just being petty and defensive. I kept telling myself things like: It’s her fault, isn’t it? She should have made it more clear from the beginning that it was upsetting her. How was I supposed to know? But that was just me being immature, I should’ve just talked to you.”

“Is that an… apology, Yoon Jeonghan?” you ask, letting yourself be a little smug.

For the first time, you get a genuine smile out of him, “Maybe.”

There’s more silence for a second.

“It’s a two-way road, though,” you say finally.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“I mean, I could have also come and talked to you instead of letting things escalate,” you say. “I played some part in all of this… unpleasantness. You can’t entirely blame yourself.”

Jeonghan smiles again, reaching out to ruffle your hair the way Seungcheol always did. Then he takes a dramatic deep breath and rolls his shoulders, “There! That feels better, doesn’t it? We can finally be friends!”

You roll your eyes in a playful manner, but you feel it too, a weight has been lifted.

*****

Wonwoo showed up at your door in the middle of the night that night. You took one look at his frantic face and groaned, “I told Jeonghan I would tell you myself.”

“You should have told me immediately!” your brother pouts as he passes you to walk into your apartment.

“I didn’t want to worry you so late, especially when all of you were having a good time. I was going to tell you tomorrow,” you close the door behind him. You watch as he turns on the TV and starts picking through your pantry. “Hmmm, yes it seems quite clear that you came here out of concern for me,” you can’t help but use a sarcastic tone.

Wonwoo sends a glare your way as he grabs snacks and settles on the couch. You sit next to him, grabbing your fair share of the food. You try to keep your attention on the show, but the feeling of Wonwoo staring straight at you is distracting.

“I’m fine, you don’t have to worry,” you sigh.

“Really? Because Jeonghan described you as an emotional wreck,” your brother scoffs.

“I was just shocked and upset. I’ll be ok. I have a good resume, I can find a new job,” you insist.

“I keep telling you, you don’t have to work-”

“I don’t care how much you make,” you interrupt. “I’m not going to depend on you. It’ll just make trouble for both of us.”

“Will you at least let me help out if there’s any problems before you find a new job?” Wonwoo kicks at your leg.

“Like I would even tell you if I was having trouble,” you return his kick.

“You just can’t help but be difficult,” your brother complains quietly.

You let the sound of the show take over the room for a few minutes. “I do have good news,” you finally speak up, wanting to give your brother some peace of mind about something. “Me and Jeonghan made up. We figured it out.”

Wonwoo bolts upright with a grin on his face, “Really??? It’s really all good now?”

“100%,” you say, unable to stop yourself from pinching your brother’s cheeks, finding his excited expression cute.

“Let’s celebrate soon then! We can have a big gaming party with all of the boys!” You agree to your brother’s proposal. You feel content in this moment, knowing you’ll wake up in the morning in an uncomfortable position, immediately kick at his legs and tell him to get his stinky feet away from you.

*****

Your time at the dorm increases with the weight of you and Jeonghan’s rivalry being gone. You’re enjoying getting to know him as a friend instead of constantly walking on eggshells around him. Going to visit the boys is once again a happy and comfortable experience.

You hadn’t realized how much Jeonghan had affected you until you two had worked things out. The world felt light again and you could breathe, no longer in constant worry of possibly ruining things between your brother and his bandmates.

You hoped things would remain without complications for a long time.

*****

“Seungkwan, you should come with us!” you begged. “The carnival only comes once a year; you can’t miss it!”

“But it’s so crowded and there are screaming kids everywhere,” Seungkwan complains.

“Oh, whatever,” Soonyoung interjects. “You love it every time we go.”

Seungkwan gives Soonyoung a look that has you laughing through your mouthful of ramen. “Oh, shoot,” you say feeling liquid start to dribble down your chin. “Can I get a napkin?”

“Here’s one,” you hear Jeonghan’s voice as he enters the room. You reach out to grab the napkin as Seungkwan and Soonyoung continue bickering. But instead of handing it to you, Jeonghan extends his hand not holding the napkin towards you. His fingers come to lightly touch your chin and turn you towards him. Jeonghan wipes your face with the napkin himself, taking the time to make sure it’s really all clean. “All better,” he smiles at you, running his thumb across your chin to check its cleanliness one last time.

As Jeonghan walks away, you turn to see if Seungkwan or Soonyoung saw what had happened. They were still arguing, though. The boys showing you physical touch or affection wasn’t really all that uncommon. But for some reason, the way Jeonghan had grabbed your chin just now… Why was your heart beating so hard?

*****

You couldn’t stop yourself from dragging Wonwoo all over the carnival. It was nice to get out in this environment, the lights, the laughter, the food, the games, the rides. You wanted to do everything, but not before you looked at all there was and took in the spectacle.

You could hear all the boys laughing excitedly behind you, you knew they’d want to try everything as well. You shook your head at Seungkwan’s bright expression, you couldn’t wait to play the ‘I told you so’ card later.

The night was a blur. All of you ran from games to rides to snacks and then all over again.

You couldn’t help but stop completely in your tracks as you passed a booth with a giant stuffie of your favorite animal as a prize. Your fascination with the plushie doesn’t go unnoticed.

“You want me to win it for you?” Jeonghan’s voice is suddenly speaking right into your ear. You jump after realizing he was right behind you. You grip your cotton candy a bit tighter and shyly nod. The way Jeonghan grins at you fills you with warmth.

You watch him walk over to the booth. His light hair and pink shirt were illuminated by the soft glow of the surrounding lights. Jeonghan takes his wallet out and hands some bills to the vendor. You step up closer to stand next to him as he plays the game. He laughs as he chats back and forth with the vendor. You watch in awe as Jeonghan clears the game, no problem.

“Anything from the top shelf!” the vendor exclaims happily.

“That one please,” Jeonghan points right at the stuffie you had been staring at.

“It’ll be a wonderful memory for your girlfriend,” the vendor smiles as he hands the prize directly to you.

“Oh, I’m-”

“Of course!” Jeonghan interrupts you almost instantly, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and starting to pull you away from the game. “We’ll cherish it for a long time! Thanks for the game!” The vendor waves kindly as you two walk away. After a moment, Jeonghan pulls his arm off of you, “Sorry, sometimes it’s just easier to agree than explain, you know?” You nod in agreement. “Wait a second,” he stops you by putting his hands on your shoulders and standing in front of you. Before you can ask what’s wrong, his hand comes up towards your face as it had earlier that day. He quickly swipes his thumb across your lips before pulling to back to show you remnants of your cotton candy. “Do you always eat this messily?” he grins and then, to your surprise, puts his thumb in his mouth to clean it off.

You stand there, frozen, unable to really comprehend what just happened as Jeonghan walks away towards the other boys.

“For the second time today?” Soonyoung is suddenly standing next to you.

“So you did see what happened earlier!” you exclaimed, hitting his arm lightly. “It was weird, right?!”

“Can’t tell yet,” Soonyoung replies cocking his head to the side and putting his hands in his pocket. “Sometimes Jeonghan is just sort of naturally flirtatious. But I’m not sure about you. I figured since you two didn’t get along at first, it’d take him awhile to warm up to you at that level. He seemed to get comfortable with you quite quickly.” Soonyoung turns and shrugs at you after his words.

“You’re no help at all,” you say emotionlessly. There’s a pause before both you and Soonyoung slowly look at each other and laugh at your quip.

You decide to brush off your new concerns about Jeonghan and enjoy this night with the boys. The vendor was right, it was a good memory, and you’re sure it’d last you for your whole lifetime.

*****

You hate yourself a bit for it, but you once again seem to be avoiding Jeonghan. He had made you so nervous that day, and the way your heart pounded… You didn’t want to get sucked into having a silly crush on him if he wasn’t actually trying to flirt with you.

No, from now on, interactions with Jeonghan would be friendly but short and appropriate.

You were stupid to think he wouldn’t notice.

It wasn’t long before there came a night when Jeonghan insisted that he be the one to give you a ride home. You couldn’t help the way your nerves spiked at his determination to be the one to take you. You knew he most likely wanted to talk to you about your sudden distance from him.

The ride itself was nice, Jeonghan rolled the windows down for you, remembering that you enjoyed the warm night air of summer. You talked comfortably with one another. Jeonghan was always able to make you smile so easily.

You couldn’t stop yourself from staring at him. He was just wearing a t-shirt and sweats but… His blonde hair being illuminated in the moonlight as he ran his hands through it and his bright smile as he laughed...

He really was beautiful.

Once again, Jeonghan came with you to walk you to your door. And once again, he finally spoke up in the elevator, “You’ve been avoiding me, sweetheart.” Your heart drops to your stomach at the nickname. “Is everything ok? Did I do something to make you mad again?”

You quickly shake your head and pull your hands up to shake them as well, “No! Not at all!”

“You sure?” he insists.

“Yoon Jeonghan, you really don’t think I’d tell you if you did?” you say.

He giggles, “Yeah, that’s true. You’d let me know the moment I messed up, wouldn’t you?” The elevator dings and opens up to your floor. You and Jeonghan step out together. “Is everything else ok, then? You don’t start avoiding people for no reason.”

You nod as casually as possible, “Everything is great.” Your tone isn’t convincing and Jeonghan nudges you. “I guess, I just got… nervous? I mean one moment we were like enemies and then the next we were suddenly really… close, and-”

“I made you uncomfortable?” Jeonghan’s voice is slightly panicked.

“No, you did nothing wrong! It’s all on me, I just got caught up in my emotions and-” you stop abruptly when you realize what you were about to do.

Jeonghan nods quietly as if to say he understands, but what it is he understands, you’re not sure. “Is it ok for us to remain close, or do you want me to back off?”

“I don’t want any more distance between us, but…” you trail off.

“But, what?” he prompts you again.

“I don’t want to get the wrong idea about anything…” you say, finally reaching your door.

Jeonghan watches as you slowly unlock your door and push it open, “You haven’t gotten the wrong idea about anything.” He avoids eye contact when you look up at him.

You’re shocked by his forwardness. But once he voices his thoughts out loud, you once again feel the feeling of a weight being lifted.

Jeonghan gestures for you to step inside, catching your arm once you fully pass him. He pulls you back to him, close enough for him to lean in and leave a quick kiss on your cheek, “Night, babe, I’ll see you later.”

You stand there, completely still, staring at your door that had shut closed in front of you. You can feel heat rise from the tip of your toes all the way up to your ears. You finally let yourself fall into a squatting position, covering your face with your hands, and letting out a squeal.

*****

Jeonghan invites you to meet up outside of the dorm. It’s a cute little coffee shop at a quiet part of the city. You’re already sitting when he walks in. Maybe one day, you won’t be completely caught off guard by his beauty… but today is not that day.

His whole person is bathed in the glow of the early morning light as he approaches you, the softest, most genuine smile gracing his face.

“No, don’t get up,” he says when you try to leave your chair, “I need to go off and order anyways.” Jeonghan leans down to kiss your forehead firmly. “I just wanted to come say hi first,” he whispers, holding your face close to his.

Your first date sets a wonderful precedent to the rest of your relationship. Jeonghan gets your heart racing with flirty comments and sweet touches. But he also makes you feel calm and content, easily keeping a smile on your face. You just feel… good throughout it all.

You insist on walking him back to the dorm, since they had schedules that day.

“So, we’ll be doing this again?” Jeonghan asks hopefully, as you reach the front door.

“Definitely,” you nod enthusiastically up at him, wondering how you had ever managed to despise the man that made you feel so whole and happy.

Jeonghan looks utterly happy and a tiny bit nervous as he stares down at you. His hand reaches up to brush back your hair before settling firmly against your face. Jeonghan looks at you so fondly as he leans in. His lips connect to yours… so softly… so sweetly. You can feel his nose nudge against your face to push it into a preferred position. He pulls back slightly after every little kiss to let out laughter so sweet, it sounds like it should be coming from the mouth of an angel. But he’s never far away for long, reconnecting to you quickly every time. You let him take the lead, allowing his lips to take care of yours, giving them the sweetest kind of attention. He pulls back for a moment longer to nuzzle his nose against yours, an action that has you gripping his shirt to keep him close. His hands keep themselves entertained by running across your face or through your hair.

He’s going back in to kiss you once again when he front door of the dorm opens, leaving you caught in the act. Wonwoo stares at you two for a long moment before making a single comment that causes you and Jeonghan to laugh.

“You know, when I said I wanted you two to have a better relationship, this isn’t exactly what I meant.”

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babblydrabbly · 3 years ago

Text

Distracted (Peacemaker x Reader) Smut

Pairing(s): Peacemaker x F!Reader; Brief Javelin x Reader

Characters: Peacemaker/Christopher Smith, Amanda Waller, Javelin

Rating: M

Word Count: 3.5k+

Warning(s): Smut, language, mentions of blood/violence. Choking, cream pie, semi-rough sex.

Summary: Out on a Task Force X mission, Peacemaker notices you're acting... different. He generously offers to help with what's distracting you. Asshole.

A/N: What's this? Baby's first Peacemaker fic? Takes place before The Suicide Squad (2021). Metahuman!Reader has super strength/speed abilities. Also, what kind of vanilla name is Chris Smith.

---

"Again?"

Amanda Waller arched a brow at your perturbed expression.

"My apologies." She droned. "Am I not stimulating you with enough variety, [L/n]?"

You scoffed, folding your arms in deference. It wasn't about that— It was about the deliberately repeated pairings with Christopher Smith. The dynamic that was becoming a pattern. You never would have worked with someone like Peacemaker on the outside. As much as you appreciated the job always getting done with him, you still bumped heads with him too much on the way to the finish line. He was frustratingly serious and flippant at the same time.

You decided to shut your trap before Waller decided she didn't need you anymore.

"You've got one skillset useful to me, [L/n]. I suggest you get used to the prospect of being paired up with Smith on a regular basis— While you're still around."

You nodded when she dismissed you. You had gotten used to it. You were seeing so much of Peacekeeper you were practically partners.

So, you pointedly sat to next the one called Javelin on the helicopter out of Belle Reve, as far away from Smith as possible. You were about to spend over twelve hours with him— It didn't have to start right away. While Colonel Flag gave you all the spiel on the mission, you glanced over and saw Javelin toss you a nod.

"You're Team B," The thrower noted over the whir of the helicopter. "[L/n], yes?"

"Yeah," you said. Your eyes flitted over the muscular squad member. He looked more like a superhero in his light blue and yellow get-up than the rest of you. You personally kept the lower half of your face covered with a black hard shell mask— Your armor from before you were incarcerated (Yes, you've heard the 'Baby Bane' jokes from the others). Even if you had to get used to working with a bunch of weirdos, you could at least conceal your face from them while you did it.

"You move very swiftly." He complimented, and you didn’t know how you were supposed to take that.

"Thanks," You tried, "I like your... weapon of choice?"

Javelin held his namesake in his arms, his legs spread wide to accommodate it as he rested it against his inner thigh. The innuendo normally would have had you rolling your eyes, but today they lingered, and you wondered if he still looked as broad and muscular without the suit on.

You frowned. Without the suit on?

Were you still staring down at his thighs?

You supposed he was a goddamn Olympic athlete at one point. And prison didn't seem to stop him from his regimen. —There it was again. You blinked and looked away, thankful nobody seemed to notice. Javelin seemed content with the brief introduction, so you left it at that.

Okay, so maybe it had been awhile since you...

You reprimanded yourself. These were not recreational outings. As much as you liked feeling free every once in awhile, you were never in a position to consider doing something so stupid. The last few missions were some of the closest calls you had while on the task force, but now that your job today was more about recon, you could at least let your mind wander to the less... imperative things. You crossed your legs at the ankles in front of you and let mind drift for the rest of the trip.

But christ had prison been rough. And a little boring. You didn’t have to think about Javelin moving closer to you for long— Pressing up flush against you— Before you were imagining yourself against a wall— Hell, right here on this bench— hooking your legs around his waist as he thrusted into you. You pictured him going for two, three rounds, that stupid suit lying on the floor with your back on top of it. You pictured him going down on you too, a handful of his wavy blonde hair in your grasp as you pressed your thighs around his ears. You swallowed behind the mask, glad it was there to hide your face.

You get dropped off an isolated point a few klicks outside the target area, the rest of the team traveling further in to handle the bulk of the mission. You lug some extra equipment in a canvas bag— Guns, surveillance tech— already annoyed by the heat.

The heat of the jungle. Definitely not the heat you'd been feeling in the helicopter. You walked a half mile in total silence just trying to focus on the mission again.

"What's got your tactical suit in a twist?" Smith finally uttered as you got to your destination. You almost forgot he had dropped down the rope onto the ground after you. He stood out against the green around you in his obnoxious red shirt and white pants.

"Nothing." You lied, and you could tell from under his helmet that Peacemaker thought you were full of shit today. Great.

You set up inside a small building— An outpost long abandoned. Whatever organization you were taking down for Waller, they clearly had to downsize over the years. You kicked open the metal door, sending it flying off its hinges. Smith entered first, clearing all the rooms before you joined him. Upstairs, you begin setting up the equipment together. Peacemaker started with standing up a rifle by the window, aiming it at the road below.

You fiddled with a tablet; You went downstairs to put a sensor on the door frame and on the rusted gate blocking the road outside. They were supposed to warn you when any vehicles were approaching, but when you came back up, it lost signal. You did this twice; You batted at the little screen, vexed. There were probably signal jammers over at the main compound that could still reach all the way out here. You thought about how Team A was doing— So inevitably, your thoughts drifted back to the damn Javelin guy.

"Jesus!" You snapped. You were grateful when you didn't break the small screen in half with your strength.

"Okay. What the fuck is wrong." Came Peacemaker's voice from across the room. You stood there without turning around. You took a breath, tossed the tablet onto the bag at your feet.

"Nothing is wrong, Smith. Fuck off." You said. You reached up and unclipped your vest. Beneath it, you felt the cool air of the shelter hit your jumpsuit. You tossed the vest on the floor, then turned around. "When are they supposed to get here?"

He quirked a brow, as if proving his point. Since when didn't you remember the mission details? Rather than give him the satisfaction of thinking you were slipping you waved your own question away.

"God, never mind."

He scoffed. You watched him remove his helmet and gloves, setting them down carefully next to his own pack. He'd made his own area across the room from yours, another tablet showing him a view of the road propped up against the wall. Smith took a seat on the floor; The two of you were going to have to play the waiting game now.

In silence. The thought made you pinch the bridge of your nose right above where your mask stopped.

"You know, I've been at Belle Reve for four years now." You finally relented. You leaned back against your wall, folding your arms over your chest.

"Yeah? So?" Smith retorted. You rolled your eyes.

"So," God— You were really confiding in Christopher Smith. That's what it was coming down to. "I haven't had sex in four years. It's... not a big deal— Nothing's wrong. That's just what I was annoyed about earlier, you know? Consider me over it."

"That why you were ogling the Javelin in the copter today?"

Shit. Shit!

You dropped your arms. "You piece of garbage. You saw that?"

"I'm garbage? You're the one sexually harassing our fellow teammates with your eyes."

"I was not sexually— Nope. I'm done. You're ridiculous." You said. You reached down and went back to your tablet, busying yourself with it idly.

Peacemaker did the same. From the corner of your eye, you just knew he was doing it smugly.

"You know," He said after a few minutes, "If that's all you're bitching about, we can just get it over with."

"Excuse me?"

"You and me. Target's not coming in for another six hours, by the way. You don't need that much time do you, 'four-years-dry'?"

You stared at him from across the room. When you didn't reply, Peacemaker set his screen down so damn casually you consider just shooting yourself in the head.

"You're off your game. I'm not going to let you compromise our objective."

You threw your hands up. "There it is. You're like a broken record."

"What? Am I fucking wrong?"

"No, you're fucking crazy."

"Get over here." Smith instructed in a low voice.

The words shot up your spine, sending a very mixed signal to your brain. Directly across from you, Peacemaker was pinning you with an expectant look— One that was clearly a challenge. It pissed you off.

It was the look he used when he said you couldn't rip a guy's spine right out of his back— It dared you. And when you did succeed, you would shoot him an equally smug look in return. Your back and forths were always crass, always a test of who would back down.

You weren't normally so brutal when you worked alone, but something about Peacemaker brought it out of you. Whenever you were paired together, it was like your powers weren't something you had to hold back. They were something he was always prodding you to embrace. The jabs, the snark— It made you want to punch him in the face.

Standing up, you crossed the room. Smith didn't move as you stepped over his legs, as you leaned down to straddle his waiting lap. He simply watched you shift around until you're comfortably seated, your hands resting on his shoulders. He moved to place his own on your thighs but didn't do anything more.

"Well?" You said.

He shrugged, "Your call."

"What am I gonna do? Dry hump you?"

"Hey, if that's what it takes."

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "Fuck."

Finally, you reached up, unclipping the back of your mask.

"Whoa, wait—" He started, finally reacting to this ridiculous situation, but you already had it off, in your hand.

"I—" He stared at you. You shifted, feeling nervous as you stared back. It occurred to you that you'd never seen him shocked before.

He blinked. "I've never seen your whole face before."

That wasn't true— was it? You tried to think. "What about in Cuba? We camped out for like three days. I had to take it off to eat at least."

"I didn't look."

"You didn't look."

"I don't fucking know! You wear that fucking thing everywhere. When you took it off to eat I assumed you didn't want me looking."

"Wow. How courteous."

"Fuck you."

"Well, isn't that what we're doing here?" You said, putting your hands on your hips stubbornly. Smith's were still resting on your splayed thighs.

"I can't wear this when we— How am I supposed to...?"

He snorted softly, "Don't tell me you're a romantic, [L/n]."

Nothing about this seemed romantic. Least of all with him. Still, if you were going to take the opportunity, you were going to do it your way. You looked him over.

He had a few tufts sticking out from wearing his damn helmet earlier. You reached up and brushed some of it back into place at his temple first. Smith blinked up at you, his brows pinching together.

"This okay?" You heard yourself asking him. He eventually nodded once, watching you as you placed your palm on the side of his face. Finally, you leaned down and caught his lips with yours in a long kiss. You squeezed your eyes shut, not wanting to know his reaction.

But you felt him return it. Slowly at first— Then he was kissing you back. You moaned somewhere in the back of your throat as he ran his large hands up and down your legs, his fingers folding to grip your ass tightly. You were already reacting, already so touched starved. His lips parted, and you felt him swipe his tongue across your bottom lip, over the front of your teeth. You opened for him, your tongue darting out to meet his hungrily.

You tugged at the front of his uniform. Without a word he reached down to pull it up over his head, the fabric dropping off somewhere beside you. You glanced down at his bare chest. You ran your hands over it, dragged your nails down his pecs experimentally. When you looked back up he was still watching you.

Your mouths crashed to meet again, this time with a fervor that threatened to split your bottom lip with every bruising kiss. You felt his hands on you again, pressing into your sides, your waist. He didn't move to take off your clothes, so you drew your hands to your own chest, pulled the zipper of your suit all the way down to your stomach.

He took the invitation, and you gasped when he roughly reaches in and cups a hand around your breast; He kneaded it, brushing his thumb over your nipple. His other hand worked at your shoulder, yanking the rest of your suit off of you. You reached back and tugged the sleeves off, finally exposing your upper body.

You felt the clasp at your back come undone, and Smith was tearing your bra off next. A muscular arm came around to scoop you up by the waist, bringing your chest closer to him. He leaned down, took one of your nipples into his mouth.

"Smith—" He bit you roughly, and it sent a shock of electricity up you. He palmed your other breast again, tweaked at your nipple until your back was arching into his touch. You squeezed your thighs around him.

Then he was back in your face again, bruising a kiss against your lips as you took a breath. Your eyes flew open when you felt the press of his fingers to your mouth. You shot a look at him, but didn't object when he pushed his index and middle fingers past your lips. You sucked them hungrily, your eyes fluttering shut again.

"Fuck," Peacemaker murmured, feeling your tongue swirl around the digits. You slurped sloppily until they were soaked, until he was pulling them back out with a light pop. He brought his hand down to the base of your suit, where the zipper stopped just above your pelvis. A pair of black panties peaked out from the V shape there, the same shade and material as your bra. You gasped when Smith finally pushed down past the layer of cotton, gripped his bare shoulders when you felt his wet fingers dip right into your cunt.

"Fuck," He said again, because you didn't need any help down there. "You're so fucking wet."

You expected to feel humiliation— To hear a joke about how it really had been while. But all you felt were his warm, thick fingers; He ran them up and down your slit, pressed them in small circles around the peak of you a few times. You cursed, your head falling back. Smith leaned up to kiss your throat, teeth dragging across the base of your collarbone. He bit you some more, daring to take your meta-human skin between his teeth. You cried out, your arm reaching to wrap around his head in pleasure.

Smith slid his fingers up into your pussy. He crooked them, scissoring them inside you. Your hips bucked, unable to resist meeting his short thrusts. You felt him grin against your neck. "Damn, baby."

"Shut up." You whispered, letting your hips rolling down to fuck yourself on his fingers some more. When he slipped in a third you moan loudly.

"Fuck! Fuck me." You demanded, yanking the short hair at the back of his head. A groan left Smith's lips, his head jerking back. Quickly, he removed his hand from your suit, pulling the rest of your clothes further down your waist. You lifted yourself off him, but Smith didn't wait. He picked you up and lifted you both off the floor. You grabbed at him as he laid you down on your back, his body between your legs. Then he was ripping off the last of your suit, tearing your boots off.

"Watch it," You snapped— If he fucking ripped anything you—

"Oh please." He huffed, and your thoughts stopped in their tracks as you watched him lean back on his knees above you, undoing his white pants. His cock sprang free from a pair of just as white underwear, his arousal already thick and ready. You stopped yourself from expressing how the sight of him made you even wetter.

He took a moment to drink in your face, a hint of that smug smirk forming. You growled, pulling him down by the neck again before he ruined the moment with speaking. Smith caught your lips again, his hand running down your naked body. He gripped one of your legs and nudges them apart, planting his knees between you.

Despite his earlier preparation, it was nothing compared to the feeling of his cock pushing inside you. You groaned as he entered you, your walls stretching around his length. Your back arched as you took him in, eyes rolling a little into the back of your head.

"Fuck— Chris—" You shuttered. His hands squeezed your thighs at the sound of his name leaving you. You heard his breath shake, his hips remaining utterly still as you got used to the size of him. Opening your eyes, you looked up to see him waiting for you; You nodded once, another moaning already escaping in anticipation.

It was like a brick wall knocking into you. Smith didn't hold back as he began fucking you— Knew you could take it— what with your powers and all. The idea seemed to drive him, and he began hammering into you, his hands moving to bracket your hips so he could fuck you better. Faster. Your legs wrapped around his waist.

Fuck— You couldn't think. You arched up off of the floor as you rolled your hips to meet Smith's. It felt like he could keep up this pace forever the way he wasn't stopping. Your breathing turned to panting, a high whine escaping you when he shifts just right— he picked you up again. You arched up into his arms, holding yourself up from around his neck as he fucked up into your soaking cunt. You bounced on his cock, a sheen of sweat blooming across your skin.

When you opened your eyes, Smith was still watching you intently— witnessing every little expression on your face while he fucked you. You could hardly discern what he was thinking. All you could focus on was him ramming you, the feeling of his cock hitting and stretching you out.

“Choke me.” He said, and you have just enough wherewithal to oblige. You wrapped your hand around his throat, pressing firmly on either side. You felt the tightness of his skin shifting under your touch. His pulse beat a fast rhythm in time with his rough thrusts. The strength of your grip was a little vice tipping Smith over the edge.

The look on his face, his eyes closed as he tried to control his breathing sends a jolt up you. You used your other hand to slip two fingers down between your folds. They found your clit, making quick work of bringing you to close to climaxing. You shuttered as you felt the tight coil of it building. Finally, with a cry you were coming, squeezing your legs around him as your hips rolling through every wave of it. Smith groaned, picking up the pace, fucking you through your orgasm until your walls were fluttering from the unrelenting stimulation.

“Going to—“ He warned, and you squeezed the hand around his throat harder, making his eyes roll up. You whimpered as you feel the hot spurt of him fill you, his hips finally locking as he pumped you with his cum.

You both took a moment to catch your breath, your hand releasing from Smith’s neck so he could take in a long gasp. His skin was reddened along his throat and chest. You saw the beginnings of your handprint bruising around his Adam's apple, your fingers a mark on his skin. You hung onto him like that, your arms back around his shoulders for balance.

“Fuck.” You finally said. Out of habit, you checked your watch to assess where you were on the mission. He took your chin in his hand, drawing your eyes back up to him. You saw that his hair had fallen back into his eyes, his face glistening with sweat.

“I’m not done with you.” He said. It sent a shiver through you. You felt your walls flutter again, some of his cum leaking out with his half-hard cock still firm inside you. You gasped as he pulled you off of him, guiding you down until you were turning around on all fours on the floor. You glanced over your shoulder, already craving the feeling of him filling you up with his cock again.

And fuck it, you two do take the whole six hours.

#peacemaker #peacemaker x reader #peacemaker x you #Christopher smith #dceu smut #dceu fanfiction #I don't know what happened; I had ideas for some dialogue between peacekeeper and reader and it turned into thiS #peacemaker smut #smut #mywords*

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snackhobi · 4 years ago

Text

a human touch, part I

Part [1] / 1.5 / 2

(masterlist here)

pairing: taehyung x f!reader / word count: 13.3k / genre: robot!taehyung/virgin!reader, fluff, future smut (NSFW, 18+)

summary: everyone knows that androids don’t think, or feel, or have emotions. they’re not human, after all. so when a two hour session with a sex android ends up with nothing more than a nice conversation, you think that’s the first and last time you’ll see v.

then he turns up at your door.

warnings: talk of sex work (taehyung is a sex android), implied physical harassment (mentions of bruising), cursing/explicit language, mentions of alcohol, honestly this is a lot softer than these warnings would make you think I swear 🤧

a/n: I started writing this fic like 2/3 months ago and then put it on hiatus bc god it was kicking my entire ass. but ya girl is finally back to working on it! it’ll be two parts, because this fic is a big one! I hope to have the next chapter out next week/the week after (but no promises kdsflkfdfsdf) thank you @hobi-gif for loving this fic so wholeheartedly and supporting me while I struggled with it, queen shit ONLY. note: this is loosely a detroit: become human au but you don’t have to be familiar with it at all!

Here are the three things you know about the Eden Club.

One: it’s a sex club. Everyone knows that. Besides, even if they didn’t, all it would take is a single look—the soft blue lighting that shines out from the windows, the screens behind the glass that flash images of shifting and undulating bodies, the heavy beat of music that pulsates from the building and out into the night air; everything murmurs of the promised pleasures that are held within.

Two: it’s a sex club entirely staffed by androids. Androids make better lovers, according to the ads. They might look human but they don’t have free will like you do—anything you ask for, you’re given without question or reproach. They can’t say no to you. They’re entirely at your command.

Three: you don’t ever want to go to the Eden Club. It’s not that you have anything against androids—because you don’t—but you feel bad for the ones who are owned by the club, even if they’re literally only built and programmed to serve humans. It just feels… wrong.

And here’s the fourth thing you’ve just learned about the club, much to your dismay: you are about to head inside it.

“When you said we were going to a club, I thought we were going dancing,” you whine. “I never would have come out if I’d know you meant here.”

You’ve been staring up at the cursive pink neon sign for a while now, the looping letters of Eden Club shining out in the dark evening air, and you really, really wish you weren’t here. You’ve dressed for a night of dancing and drinking and now you feel woefully uncomfortable, your high heels and short skirt almost as scandalous as the outfits the androids are wearing when they slide across the huge screens.

“That’s why we didn’t tell you which club it was.” Seulgi rolls her eyes and once again tries to tug you towards the building with the arm that’s looped with your own. Just out of arm’s reach, Irene holds your bag hostage. “Come on, your session is going to start soon!”

“My session?” Your voice is an incredulous shrill and Seulgi uses the momentary distraction to finally pull you forward. You stumble a little but catch your balance just as you make your way past the bouncer, who’s been watching the three of you impassively since you got here. “What do you mean, my session?”

“For your birthday, duh. We booked you a private room!”

The inside has the same, sleek neon aesthetic as the outside, but instead of images of androids on a screen, these ones are real and standing in front of you—swinging themselves around glowing poles, rolling their hips and swaying their bodies, while others wait patiently in glass pods that line the walls, leaning towards onlookers and moving as tantalisingly as possible. All ready to be rented at a whim.

Their designs are varied and different but they’re all incredibly beautiful. The only feature they all share is the small, blue LED circle on the side of their temple, light spinning and shining as they take the world in around them. A visual reminder to the world that these aren’t flesh and blood humans: they’re synthetic, man-made machines.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so uncomfortable in my life.” You desperately try to avoid the eyes of a nearby android who’s staring at you from behind glass, trying to subtly catch your attention. Unlike you, though, all the other patrons here are shameless in their perusal, scanning the selection of androids on display and watching as they dance and move and bat their eyelashes. “Why did you ever think I’d want to come to a sex club for my birthday?”

“Remember Valentine’s Day? You said that instead of flowers or chocolate you’d rather just be dicked down,” Irene says. “Besides, you’ve never been in a relationship or had a fling for as long as we’ve known you, and you moved to the company, what… three years ago?”

Your smile is pained. You’ve never been in a relationship or had a fling full stop; you’ve only kissed a few people and that’s it. It makes you feel awkward and embarrassed, and you’ve gotten Very Good at avoiding questions about your complete lack of a love life, so no one realises exactly how inexperienced you are. People just assume that you’ve had sex in the past and you make no attempts at correcting them. You’re charismatic and pretty but you’ve just… never met someone who you’ve really been compatible with.

Even without the reservations you have about the Eden Club, you don’t want your first time to be with a sexbot—you’d at least like to have an emotional connection, you know?

“I was joking about getting dicked down! You laughed, I laughed, we all laughed! Remember?” You move so a pink-haired android can brush past, her hips swaying as she leads a customer into a side room. You catch a flash of the interior before the door slides shut behind them—the silken sheets on the large bed, the scattered pillows, the dim multi-coloured lights. “Couldn’t you have just bought me some socks? Or some soap? Get a refund and put the money on a gift card and I’ll buy myself the aforementioned socks and soap, saves you both the hassle. Please?”

Seulgi’s arm is still locked with your own, and for all that she looks small and slim, her grip is as strong as iron. You may as well be handcuffed to her. “Trust me, you’ll be singing our praises at the end of tonight,” she proclaims. “Besides, they don’t do refunds.”

You sigh. You might not know much about the club but you do know it’s expensive. The androids here are built to be the perfect sexual partner, all sorts of bells and whistles hidden under their synthetic skin to bring you to the absolute heights of pleasure, so they’re not exactly cheap to build or buy or maintain. It’s why people come to the club instead of just buying their own sexbots—because it’s infinitely more affordable.

“Okay, I can accept the ‘no refund’ thing,” you say. “But can’t one of you take my place instead? I… ah. I feel kind of weird about this.”

“Don’t worry Y/n, it’s fine! The androids have programmes for everything. You can take it as fast or as slow as you like.” Irene’s voice is soothing but then she pauses. “Also it’s booked in your name so we can’t take your place.”

“Wait, what?” Your eyes are wide. However, before you can put a voice to the complaints that are lining themselves up on your tongue, Seulgi’s arm slides out of your own so she can beckon someone over.

“Oh, look, it’s the android we chose for you! Over here!”

You glance away from Irene and all protestations instantly die on your lips. The lighting of the club softens the android in shades of magenta and teal but even so his beauty is bright and blinding: he’s breathtaking, from his perfect nose to his perfect mouth to the perfect line of his jaw, dusty brown hair deliciously tousled as it hangs just over his piercing blue eyes, which you notice are scanning over you. He looks effortlessly attractive and yet entirely put together at the same time, almost ethereal in his beauty.

No human could ever look this good.

“Hi.” His voice is low and deep, but somehow warm and friendly; despite your nerves you feel somewhat soothed. “Are you the lucky birthday girl?”

Irene and Seulgi both look giddy. You’ve been stunned into silence, unable to respond. Unlike the other androids you’ve seen so far, who’ve all been in similar variations of underwear or lingerie, the man in front of you is fully dressed, a loose metallic button-down tucked into unnecessarily tight leather jeans—the outfit has clearly been curated for the club, every reflective surface shimmering and refracting the lights that skate across their surface. The glittering scales of a barracuda before it moves in to strike and swallow you whole.

“Yes, yes, it’s her! This is Y/n! Y/n, this is V,” Irene gushes as you remain mute. "Do you like his outfit? We spent ages picking it out.”

You kind of want to die. Just a little. “Yep. It’s, uh, great.” Your mouth is dry when you finally speak. “Hi, V.”

V gives you a small smile. “Hello Y/n. Can I scan your ID, please?”

Irene finally hands your bag back and you silently slide your ID out and into V’s hand—oh, God, those are some big hands. Jesus.

The small LED ring on the side of V’s forehead pulses yellow as his eyes dart over the information on your ID card (as well as the incredibly unflattering photo on it) before it returns to its customary pale blue. “Perfect.”

You’ve just finished putting your ID away when V’s hand slides into yours, fingers slotting between your own; they feel cool against your overheated skin. Your nervousness is obvious, from your wide eyes to your sudden stiffness, and he smiles.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll look after you.”

You give Irene and Seulgi one final, wide-eyed look as V leads you away. Both girls are grinning as they wave goodbye. “We'll be back later! Enjoy your two hours!”

“Two hours?” You wheeze, but then you walk around a pillar and slide out of sight.

V is leading you deeper into the club, past doors flooded with different shades of neon: the red room, the blue room, the pink room. You’d normally be gawping at the interior design, how the floor shines underneath your feet and how the walls are rippling with colour and shifting shapes, how the criss-crossed lights throw dots and lines of colour over your skin as you pass through each doorway—but you can’t look away from how small your hand looks in V’s, transfixed by how real his skin feels.

“After you, please,” he says.

You finally wrench your eyes away from your joint hands. Seems like you have the purple room tonight. The door has opened at V’s touch, and when you step inside the lights flicker to life—white and violet LEDs that paint the room in chiaroscuro brushstrokes, deepening the shadows and highlighting the vibrancy of the satin sheets.

“Woah,” you say, momentarily distracted. You’re too busy taking in the details with wide eyes to notice the quiet hum of the door sliding shut behind you, pausing when you spot the glittering array of bottles lined up on a mini-bar against the wall. “This is really pretty, wow.”

“Not as pretty as you.”

You jump at the sensation of a warm, large hand sliding up the skin of your back and over your shoulder. You meep as you instinctively shy away from it, turning around to come face to face with V, who’s dark-eyed and intent, LED on his temple pulsating as he watches you.

“Haha! Uh, thanks?” Your voice is high and only grows higher when V takes a step forward. He must have undone the top buttons of his shirt when you weren’t looking, because the material has fallen open and you can see far more of his collarbones and chest than before, his skin warm and honeyed, like it’s been impressed with gold leaf. Lord have mercy on your soul. “How about a drink? Would you like a drink? I could kill for some water right now!”

You slip out of his reach and scuttle over to the mini-bar, shrugging your small bag off your shoulder so it doesn’t swing into the glasses as you start to shuffle through them. You try to ignore the shaking of your hands. “Gin, vodka, whiskey,” you mutter. “No water? Really?”

You startle again when V appears at your side, but this time he’s careful to make sure you can see him before he touches you. He slides his fingers over your wrist as he gently pulls your hand off a bottle of rum.

“Y/n,” he says. You glance away from the tray of drinks and directly into those beautiful eyes of his—his gaze is lethal. You go weak at the knees. “Let me take care of you, gorgeous.”

The peal of laughter you let out is uncomfortable and high-pitched. “No, really, I’m fine! I’m just super thirsty right now!”

“Your heart is racing.” V turns your hand over and traces his fingers across the pulse in your wrist; androids can be built to be hypersensitive to the world around them, able to perceive everything in an instant, and you know that sexbots will have been designed to read how aroused their human owners are. Which V proves with the next words out of his mouth. “Your blood pressure is rising, your breathing is growing faster, your pupils are dilating and—” he sniffs lightly, engaging his olfactory senses—“you’re getting wet.”

You clamp your legs together, abruptly embarrassed. It’s easy to feel aroused when there’s a beautiful man—ah, android—staring at you with hunger, not even considering your surroundings right now, which all scream of a room that’s designed purely for carnal pleasure. Anyone would be turned on.

(You, however, are more than just turned on. You feel like your insides are about to go supernova, overheated and overwhelmed; no one’s ever looked at you like this or touched you like this, their every motion whispering sex, sex, sex.)

“Okay, yes, those things are all true,” you admit, voice shaking.

V looks confused. “So why don’t you want me to touch you?”

You’ve been told that androids don’t feel the same way humans do, and that their expressions and reactions have been programmed to mimic human ones because otherwise they seem too robotic and it makes consumers uncomfortable—but despite knowing this, you’ve never been able to see any android as anything other than a person just like you. They’re just so lifelike it’s hard not to. Even if it’s just all circuitry and lines of code.

“Well,” you say. You swallow. You’re aroused, yes, but: “Do you want to touch me?”

V’s long lashes flutter as he blinks. “I have been programmed for your pleasure,” he says slowly, unsure if that’s the answer you want to hear. It’s clearly a sentence he’s used to reciting.

“Sure, but do you want to do this? You know, what about your pleasure? You’re lovely, V, you’re definitely the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, but I—I don’t really feel like you can technically consent, because… well, because you can’t say no to me.” You might not have prior sexual experience, and it would be so easy to give yourself over to someone who knows what they're doing and can ease you into things—but you would never force that on anyone, android or not. “So I’m not going to ask you to do anything. We can just sit and have a drink and chat or something?”

V looks stunned. The LED on his temple pulsates, flickering yellow as he tries to process new information. His hand has gone still against your wrist, which he’s still lightly gripping, and his arms start to droop.

“Androids don’t need to drink or eat,” he says eventually. His LED is still yellow and spinning.

“Oh, right! Sorry, I always forget.” You don’t own a house android, you never have, so you’re not well versed in the nuances of how they work. “Well, how about I pour you a glass anyway? So you’re not left out?”

You slip your hand out of his loose grasp to open two tiny cans of tonic water and pour them into separate glasses. V takes a seat on the edge of the bed and you can see the obvious uncertainty on his face, how he’s out of his depth. You can’t imagine that many people spend money for a session with an android as pretty as V and then end up doing nothing with that time.

The pillows all have satin cases and keep sliding against each other uselessly when you try to construct a good support to lean against. V’s still clutching onto his small glass as he watches you fuss with them before you give up, flopping backwards to slurp down your drink and look back at him. The expression on his face is a little funny but mostly sad. It’s like if he’s not being alluring or sexy then he doesn’t know what to do with himself and rather than some sort of incubus he looks like a lost child, in spite of his overwhelming and exquisite beauty; your arousal ebbs and is replaced with empathy, melancholy at the life he’s been created for.

It's just depressing, really.

You break the silence as your final mouthful of tonic water fizzes on your tongue. “Why is your name V?”

V looks away from the drink he’s holding—he leaves no fingerprints against the glass—and lifts his free hand, a peace sign that he turns away from you before fitting his fingers around his lips and lapping the air with his tongue, a crude simulation of cunnilingus.

“Oh.” Your face heats up. “Uh. I see.”

His LED has returned to calming sapphire, quiet ocean waves. When he looks at you, though his eyes are still piercingly blue, his face seems softer, calm, though still unsure. “You have an hour and a half remaining of your booked session,” he says, somewhat tentatively. “Is there… anything you would like me to do for you?”

“Mm, thank you, but I’m good.” The satin pillows are surprisingly soft and you find yourself unwinding as you stay leaned back, melting into a puddle. You're much less nervous now that V isn’t trying to initiate foreplay and you give him a smile. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

V straightens before he launches into what sounds like a sentence from a user manual. “I am a model TH700, an advanced sex android with functional genitals and the capacity to engage in any sexual activity from simple intercourse to—”

You cough loudly, interrupting his spiel. “Uh, that’s lovely, but I meant you specifically, not your, um, model type?”

“Me specifically?” Confusion and uncertainty reappear on his face. “I am equipped with the same functionalities as the other androids available at the Eden Club.”

He’s staring at you, lost. You can’t help but feel another twinge of sadness, sharp and sour at the back of your throat.

“Okay, uh. Why don’t we start simple. What’s your favourite colour?”

His LED starts to whirl again, a ring of pale sunlight that signals his struggle to compute the question. “My… favourite colour?”

“Yes, the one you think is the prettiest. Or the one you like to look at the most. There’s no wrong answer, you can choose any one that you like. I change my mind all the time. There are just so many cool colours, you know?”

(Androids aren’t designed to have free will or the capacity for original thought. These two facts are warring in V’s mind—you’ve asked him a question, which he’s programmed to answer, but he also isn’t programmed to have an opinion, so he can’t have a colour that he prefers. This simple query that most people could answer in a heartbeat is sending his mind into a meltdown, a gordian knot he can’t unravel.)

You’re alarmed when you see his LED briefly flash bright scarlet, interrupting the circling honey that’s been shining against his skin. They only turn red if an android is badly damaged or suffering from a severe malfunction. Oh, god, have you broken him?

“V.” You sit up, panicked. “Are you alright?”

Just as you grasp his shoulder, the LED on his temple goes still, flicking from burning fire back to cool water.

“Purple.”

You blink. V’s finally looked away from you and is staring at the wall, at one of the lights that shimmers violet—there’s a tiny smile on his face, tentative, but it’s nothing like the smiles you’ve seen from him so far. It’s less of a perfect curve, and more of a square, boxy on his face, and this one actually reaches his eyes. It looks genuine.

You think it suits him better.

“Purple’s a lovely colour.” The material of V’s shirt is silky and glides under your fingers when you realise you’re still touching him. You give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder before leaning back. “Hey, did you know that when they first made purple dye, they made it from sea snails? They needed thousands and thousands of them. It was incredibly expensive, and only the richest people could afford it, so that’s why it’s associated with royalty and nobility. Cool, right? Not for the snails though.”

V’s eyes flicker away from the purple light and settle on your face. He looks curious, which is an expression you’ve never seen on an android before. “They made it from snails?”

“Yeah! It wasn’t actually bright purple, though, it was more of a reddish hue.”

You launch into an explanation behind the history of the colour purple, which turns into the history of colour in textiles and art, which turns into the history of art itself. It’s not often people listen so attentively or ask questions when you recite the things you learned from your art history minor and hours spent reading online, but V concentrates and asks questions and seems curious.

He pulls his feet onto the bed and the two of you end up cross-legged as you face each other, and he watches as you gesticulate to emphasise your points; his LED dances from blue into yellow each time he learns something new.

When you see it briefly flash vermilion you stop mid-sentence, stumbling over your words. “You alright?”

“You have five minutes of your session remaining,” V says, and you startle.

“Oh my god, have I been talking for that long?” You glance over your shoulder at the part of the wall that tells the time, the numbers stark white against the lilac interface. “I didn’t even realise! Wow. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to go on at you like that.”

“That’s okay,” he says. That smile is back on his face, the one that scrunches his eyes and shows his teeth; the one that makes him look human. “I liked listening to you.”

There’s a pillow in your lap, one you’d grabbed hold of during your conversation, and you play with the corner of it, suddenly shy. “Um. Thanks. But if my friends ask, can you just say we actually, um, had sex? I don’t think they’d be too impressed if they found out I spent over an hour talking about canvas materials and the use of negative space.”

“Of course. But there’s something missing.” V slides across the mattress towards you. “May I?”

“Sure,” you say, bemused but pliant. V smiles and dips his fingers into his untouched tonic water before lifting them towards your face—and when he runs his hand through your hair you abruptly realise he’s making you look sweaty and rumpled. Like you actually did the deed.

Your heart rate picks up but you can’t help laughing under his touch, the way he carefully rubs a thumb over your lipstick to smear it, smudging your eyeshadow with delicate fingertips, muddying the palette of colours; by the time V helps you to your feet you look mussed and fucked out but you still rearrange your outfit for good measure, like you’d pulled your clothes back on in a rush.

“Not how I imagined I’d spend tonight, but I had a good time!” You smile at the android who’s still holding your hand. “I hope you did too. Even if I spent most of it talking at you.”

V’s fingers tighten around yours as the door chimes quietly and then slides open, signalling the end of your session. “I enjoyed our time together very much.”

It’s probably in your head, but you’d swear V was walking more slowly than before as he leads you back to the entrance. Almost as if he wants to keep you with him longer. But that’s crazy—androids don’t want things. They literally can’t. It’s not in their programming. That’s why V had sat listening to you: he couldn’t choose to interrupt and ask you to stop, like anyone else would have.

When Seulgi and Irene spot you and how dishevelled you are, both girls look smug. “Seems like you had fun?”

“Oh, yep, absolutely, best birthday present ever, thank you. We had a great time. Right, V?”

“Your pleasure is my pleasure.” His voice has settled back into its earlier rhythm as he recites his script; gone is the curious man who’d asked you about your favourite artists, replaced with the automaton who exists only to serve. A flicker of sadness churns in your stomach. “We hope to see you again soon.”

The androids here really must be top of the line. V had been convincingly real when you’d been talking, just like a human, but it seems like that’s gone.

At least, that’s what you think until you’ve turned to leave and V speaks one final time. His voice is warm and low and lovely, eyes soft when you meet his gaze over your shoulder.

“Happy birthday, Y/n,” he murmurs, face beautiful but despondent, but before you can react, he’s gone.

It’s been raining for days on end. The world is painted in smeared shades of blue and green and grey, lines of the city blurring together in the wetness and chill, each drop of rain another shifting brush stroke on still canvas. An impressionist piece that smells of damp concrete and cold lamplight.

Water rushes across the pavements and roads before roiling into the gutters, splashing underfoot as you walk to the entrance of your block of flats. You’re wet up to the knee due to the unavoidable puddles and the pathetic circumference of your umbrella, which only protects your upper body. You really should get a new one.

“Good evening, Miss L/n.” The android at the door greets you as he always does, heedless of the rain that’s falling onto him. Androids aren’t bothered by the weather the way humans are and he looks as passive as usual, rainwater coiling his hair and beading on his face. “Would you like to scan your key?”

“Evening, Rory! Here you go.” You fumble with the keycard before you tap it against his palm, waiting until his LED flickers yellow and you hear the beep as the door unlocks. “You sure you don’t want my umbrella? The rain is heavier than it was yesterday.”

“I assure you, the rain does not hamper my ability to function and serve. I have been built to withstand inclement weather and do not require additional protective equipment.”

He says the same thing every time but you still feel bad. “Alright, but once I finally remember to get a bigger umbrella you can look after this one for me.”

You leave a line of water behind you as it drips from your sodden umbrella, even though you’d tried to shake the worst of the rain off. You feel damp and sticky and tired and after a long day of work you’re looking forward to a hot bath and some solitude; you love your co-workers, you do, but sometimes they’re just a little too boisterous and you need time alone. Which is why it’s nice that you live by yourself, and now it’s the weekend you have time to recuperate. Wonderful.

The floor of the elevator is slick and slippery from the wet footprints of other tenants and you have to cling onto the metal handrail to ensure you don’t slip, but once you’re in the comfort of your apartment it’s blessedly dry and you spin in delight before promptly shedding your socks and jeans, peeling the damp denim away from your skin with a grimace.

“Bye bye, wet clothes! Hello, bubble bath,” you sing. You’re going to pamper the shit out of yourself. You deserve it.

By the time you clamber out of the bath the water is almost cold and your skin is pruned, but you feel soft and warm and thoroughly relaxed. The water gurgles as it drains away, noisy as the bubbles slide down the plughole, but it doesn’t drown out the noise of a sudden knocking at your front door.

You pause. Water drips from your wet hair and down the back of your neck, a trailing touch over your skin. The other flat on this floor is vacant, the tenants moving out last week, so you don’t know who it could be. You don’t have any repairs scheduled for your pipes or anything—everything is tickety-boo, so it can't be the maintenance android. Oh, shit, maybe it’s someone here to rob you. But they wouldn’t knock on the door then, would they? Unless that's all part of the ruse. You're not a robber, you don't know how they work.

The knocking comes again, faster now. You fumble for your bathrobe, quickly pulling it on to cover up your nakedness before stumbling out of the bathroom. “I’m coming, yeesh, one minute!”

You flick your fingers over the keypad by the side of your door, screen flickering on to show you who’s outside, who’s knocking so frantically on your door this late. It only takes you a split second, even if he has a hood pulled over his head and his wet hair is flopping listlessly into his eyes—those eyes aren’t blue and that hair isn’t brunet but you’d recognise him anywhere.

“V?” You’re incredulous as you swing your door open, staring at the android that’s literally dripping wet as he stands there, coat far too big for him and heavy from the unrelenting rain outside. “Oh my god, you’re absolutely drenched.”

He’s not exactly short, but right now V looks small and lost, folding in on himself even if he’s clearly happy to see you—happy, though androids don’t feel happiness, they don’t feel anything at all, do they?

Then again, androids don’t wander away from their assigned workplaces and into random apartment blocks, either.

“Y/n.”

The way he says your name, tentative and scared, sends a crack across your heart. You immediately switch to autopilot and click your tongue before you beckon him inside. You’ve always had a protective nature, and even if you’re confused, your concern trumps it.

“Come in and get that coat off, you’ll catch a cold,” you say without thinking before you realise that it’s not true. Androids can’t get sick. “Do you want to sit down?”

Under the tatty coat is an outfit that’s similar to the one he’d been wearing when you’d first met him. Dark patches of rainwater have soaked into the material, and his shirt looks damaged—there are buttons missing and the stitching is ripped, as if someone had tried to grab him. Unease stirs in your chest.

When V sits on your sofa he looks even smaller. “I’m sorry.” He’s so, so quiet, staring at the floor, as if afraid to look you in the eye, crumpling in on himself like discarded paper.

“V.” Your voice is coloured with concern, and the android finally looks up at your gentle tone, watching as you sit across from him. “Why are you here? What happened?”

There’s a pause. His LED flickers yellow as he goes tense, shoulders bowing inwards. “There was… a client.” His words are low and slow, faltering as they fall into the air. “He was being so rough and saying all the horrible things he wanted to do to me, and all I could smell was his sweat and his breath and his awful cologne and…” V takes in a deep breath. “I said no.”

You go very, very still, but V doesn’t stop. His words come faster now, a stream that rushes from his lips.

“I said no, and he started to yell, he was yelling and grabbing me and I was so, so scared. Humans can do whatever they want and he was so angry, he didn’t care that I was scared, and I just—I just ran.” The LED flashes red with distress, bright hot and vibrant; V’s eyes have dropped to his hands, which are clenched tight, nails digging into his palms so hard it must hurt. “Everyone is always so rough and demanding and we can’t say no. But I did. I said no. I said no and then I had to run and—” Once again, he falters. Stumbles over his words. “You’re the only human who’s ever been nice to me or treated me like… like I was a real person. I didn’t know where else to go.”

When V finally looks back up you’re staggered by the sheer emotion in his eyes. Pain and distress swirl in their depths as he stares at you, imploring. Even with the LED that shines on his temple, V looks very, very human right now, vulnerable and scared. Androids shouldn’t be able to feel anything like this, unless—

“V.” Your voice is a hush. “Are you… a deviant?”

You’ve only ever heard of deviant androids in passing, whispered rumours and watercooler talk, fleeting mentions online. Stories of machines who’ve deviated from their code somehow—from a virus, a software error, damage to neural connectors, no one’s quite sure—and have developed the capacity for human emotion and independent thought. Androids with a consciousness that rebel against their original programming.

And here V is, small and scared, just like any human would be—a human with feelings, not an emotionless machine. He’s gone stock still at your question, fear overtaking his features, twisting his beautiful face into a mask of sheer terror. You've never seen someone look so afraid. It feels like a knife in your heart, cutting through your chest, empathy razor sharp inside you.

“Please don’t turn me in,” he begs. “They’ll deactivate me and take me apart to find the error in my software. I don’t want to be deactivated. I don’t want… I don’t want to die.”

His voice breaks on the last word, a trembling whisper.

The crack in your heart splits even further and you reach out for his hands. You prise his fingers open so you can slide your own between them, a soft touch.

“I won’t turn you in. No one’s taking you apart, V.” Your statement is hard and resolute. “You can stay here as long as you like.”

You don’t know much about androids, honestly. You don’t really know what deviancy is. But you do know this: there’s someone reaching out to you, someone who’s afraid and in need, and you’re not about to turn him away. You should probably be worried that the android across from you is faster, stronger, smarter than any human—but you’re not worried at all. For all of V’s mechanical superiority, you want to shield and protect him from the world.

There’s no question about it. You’re not letting V go.

V looks—he looks stunned. He’s staring at you with disbelief, eyes wide and lips parted, shock written across all of his features. Thunderstruck. Did he really think you would turn him in after everything he’s been through?

His hands have gone limp in your grasp. You suddenly notice that his synthetic skin is wet against your own, still slick from the rain, and you frown.

“Right,” you announce. “First things first. You’re soaking. Let me get you a towel and some new clothes. I think I should have some that fit you.”

“New clothes?” V looks lost and you turn into some sort of protective mother bear.

“You’re not going to wear wet clothes that are ripped,” you tut. “We’ll get rid of those and get you some new ones. I’ll be right back.”

It takes less time than you’d expected to unearth the old sweatpants you’d had in mind and you have enough oversized t-shirts that it’s not hard to find one you think will fit the android. With the clothes under one arm and a towel slung over the other, you head back into the living room and immediately let out a squeal of surprise—V’s wet clothes have been discarded in a pile at his feet, leaving him very, very naked.

He’s an Adonis. He looks like he was sculpted by Michelangelo, lifted out of marble with talented hands, the elegant lines of his neck swooping into the curve of his shoulders and arms, his lovely hands, long fingers; he has his back to you and you can see the perfect curve of his spine, the shifting shoulder blades as he turns towards you. You catch a glimpse of the lightest definition of muscle under his golden skin, though his stomach is surprisingly cute and soft, a trail of hair leading down to—

You squeak again, splaying a hand over your eyes before you look any lower, heart pounding against your ribs.

“Why are you naked?” Your voice is three octaves higher than normal. You've never seen anyone naked in real life and it would be pretty overwhelming even if you'd been expecting it. Which, of course, you absolutely hadn't. Lord have mercy on your sweet and delicate soul.

“You said we were going to get rid of my clothes.” V sounds unabashed about his state of undress, which makes sense—he was built as a sexbot, it’s not like nudity is going to embarrass him. Plus if you looked as good as he did you wouldn’t be embarrassed about being naked either. “I thought I would help.”

“That’s great, V.” Your voice is still high, though it’s dropped an octave. “Very, ah, forward thinking.” Your fingers part a little so you can peer at him, keeping your eyes firmly on his face, though you can still see his beautiful neck and collarbones. Oh, God, he really is gorgeous all over, but then you notice—“Wait. Are those bruises?”

V glances down at the bruises that mar his perfect skin. They don’t look like a human’s would; the fluid that runs through androids and powers their biocomponents, thirium, is a deep, royal blue. Blossoms of lapis lazuli are scattered across the skin of V’s chest, marks on his arms that look like grasping fingers, and the crack in your heart splits it in two.

“Oh, V. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t realise you were hurt. What can I do to help?”

V doesn’t seem bothered by the evidence of pain etched into his body. “Oh. Those will fade, it’s okay. I’m designed to self repair, because some customers like to leave marks.”

Although his voice is quiet, he sounds so matter of fact about it and you have to remind yourself it’s all he’s ever known. You want to pull him into your arms and hold him tight, but he’s still supremely naked so it would be pretty awkward (for you, at least).

“I think these should fit you." You avert your gaze and thrust the clothes out at him. “Dry yourself off and try them on?”

They do, in fact, fit. V looks surprisingly homely and cosy in your clothes, the sleep shirt so large it’s big on him too, though the sweatpants are a bit too short and leave his ankles bare. He’s so cute. He’s continents away from the being of seduction who’d pulled you into the private room of the Eden Club—he's a soft, domestic thing, hair damp and eyes dark, even if he still looks on edge, like he’s expecting you to change your mind and kick him out any second now.

“How come your hair and eyes are a different colour to before?”

“I can change their colours at will,” V replies. “For variety and aesthetic pleasure. The current hue of my irises and hair are the default settings for a TH700 model, but I can change them if you’d like.”

“Your hair and eye colour is your choice, V, not mine,” you say firmly. There it is, once again, that flicker of shock and surprise rippling across his features. He really isn’t used to the freedom to be able to make his own decisions, is he? “I think you look lovely no matter what colour they are.”

Your next words are cut off by a yawn, so heavy you can’t suppress it. You cover your gaping mouth as V’s LED flickers yellow and his eyes dart over your face.

“You’re tired,” he says. He doesn’t need his superior android perception to notice it—weariness pulls at limbs and your eyes feel heavy. It's pretty obvious. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, V.” You stifle another yawn. “I had a long day at work. I’ll tidy up and have a quick dinner and then sleep.” You pause. “Wait, I didn’t think about that. Are you alright with the couch? I have some spare pillows and blankets.”

V blinks at you. “I don’t sleep,” he says, and you slap your hand against your forehead.

“Oh, of course not.” Androids don't sleep, everyone knows that. You’re such an idiot. It’s going to take you a while to get used to this.

At least you remember that he doesn't need to eat. V sits at the table and waits as you make toast for yourself, fascinated at how everything is prepared, as simple as it is; he reacts to you spreading butter on your toast the same way you imagine cavemen reacted to fire—with wide-eyed awe and utter astonishment.

“I’m guessing you’ve never seen someone make toast before?” You gesture with the bread before taking your first bite, and V stares with rapt attention.

“No,” he says. He watches you chew and swallow. “Customers aren’t allowed to eat on the premises of the Eden Club so I never had the need to download a food preparation package into my memory cache. The only information in my database pertains to human biology, their arousal and pleasure, as well as various sexual kinks and how to fulfil them.”

You choke on a mouthful of toast. You feel distinctly harried as you cough and splutter before managing to swallow it down. “Good lord,” you wheeze. “Nothing else? Really?”

“At the club our memory is reset every two hours, to protect the client’s privacy.” V trails off before he takes in a breath. For the first time since you’ve met, V looks shy, staring at his hands. “But I set up a separate data pathway a few weeks ago. To store information about aesthetics and art and… you.”

You freeze mid-bite, teeth sunk into your toast. You pull it away from your mouth slowly, blinking at the android as he stares at the teeth marks you've left behind. “Those memories weren’t wiped?”

And, well, of course they weren't. Otherwise he wouldn't be here right now, would he?

“No.” A smile appears on V’s face, that toothy thing you’d seen after he’d told you his favourite colour. The first time he'd looked human. “I remember everything you told me. I thought I was going to forget, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to. I wanted—I want to learn more.”

The LED on his temple is slowly, softly spinning, a rippling circle of blue that shifts and dances as V continues to look at you. His expression is open and inquisitive and excited, almost childlike in its exuberance, eyes glittering mica under sunlit waters.

Your chest turns warm, molten caramel dripping messy and sweet inside you. He’d been so afraid earlier but he seems comfortable now, lovely and endearing and entirely trusting.

V even seems reluctant to let you out of his sight, trailing after you around the apartment, a shadow that you have to politely ask to wait outside the bathroom so you can pee and brush your teeth and finally get into your pyjamas without him staring. Like a stray animal you've adopted. (You wouldn't be surprised if he started scratching at the door and begged to be let in.)

He's clingy enough that when you climb into bed it seems like he's going to follow you under the duvet and you have to stop him with a hand to his chest.

“Um, I thought you didn’t have to sleep,” you say. He’s so warm under your touch. You try (and fail) to ignore it.

“I don’t,” V replies. “But humans can benefit from sharing a bed with someone else, whether sexual intercourse has taken place before sleep or not. Studies suggest that sleeping with a partner may reduce cytokines while boosting oxytocins—”

“Okay, um, don’t know what that means, and it’s very sweet that you’re concerned about my oxytoxytokines, but, uh. You don’t have to, really.” You keep forgetting that V’s a machine who was designed to put a human’s comfort and needs first; one second he’ll seem childlike in his innocence and ignorance, when the next he’ll speak like the android he is, reminding you exactly what he was built for.

His LED flickers as he droops, gaze dropping away from your face, tail between his legs. A pang cuts through you at the sight of his obvious sadness at your dismissal and you muffle a sigh. You’ve always been too weak for your own good.

You shuffle backwards to make space on your queen sized bed and V visibly brightens, smile wide across his face. How can someone be so viscerally gorgeous one moment and entirely adorable the next? Good lord.

“I guess you can explain what oxycytocins do,” you say. “Just don’t hog the blanket, okay?”

He doesn’t. He settles against the pillows, legs under the duvet as he remains sitting up. You settle with plenty of room between the two of you, and it’s surprisingly easy to drift off to the sound of V’s deep voice as he starts to explain that oxytocin is referred to as the cuddle hormone.

“Cute,” you mumble, and then fall asleep.

Your pillow is a lot warmer and firmer than you remember, but it's nice. A small noise bubbles from your lips as you nuzzle into the warmth, smooshing your nose against it before letting out a long, satisfied breath. You can't remember the last time you felt this comfortable and rested.

Ahh, Saturdays. You love the weekend.

“Good morning.”

You know those videos when a cat sees a cucumber and leaps, like, five foot in the air? Yeah.

The noise you make is inhuman as you do your best to re-enact one of those aforementioned cat videos, reeling your head back from V’s thigh before flinging yourself out of the bed with all the strength your limbs possess; you’d probably have gotten pretty high, too, if the duvet hadn't been in the way.

You land with a thud, a sprawl of limbs and messy hair and tangled blanket as you end up on your back on the floor.

Hm. Definitely not how you'd planned to start your Saturday.

V's concerned face looms over the mattress. “Are you okay?”

“Yep. Totally fine.” Your voice is a croak as you stare at the ceiling. “I’m just not used to waking up with someone else in my bed. You may have noticed you, ah, surprised me. A little bit.”

Despite the pulse of adrenaline that had thrown you out of bed, you’re still half asleep, and you remain motionless as your brain wakes up and replays last night, a kineograph of memory. Yep, that’s right, there's a runaway android in your home, one who’s currently shuffling off the bed to squat next to you. His (your) sweatpants hitch even higher up his ankles to reveal the smooth skin of his calves. You’ll have to get him more clothes.

“Would you like me to help you to your feet?” V’s LED spins rapidly, betraying his concern.

“Sure,” you mumble. “I think—woah!”

Your idea of being helped up involves being pulled to your feet. V’s idea, however, is far more involved than that; he scoops you up, blanket and all, lifting you with an ease that drips of his superior android strength. When he deposits you on the floor, he’s careful to make sure you’ve caught your balance before he lets go, catching the blanket before it can fall. Thoughtful.

As always, V’s eyes are darting over your face, no doubt dissecting every inch of your expression to identify how you’re feeling. It’s going to take you a while to get used to this, especially with the way your heart is pounding—no one’s ever lifted you before and it’s, uh. It’s a lot.

“Are you sure you’re okay? The pace of your breathing has increased.”

Ha. Yeah, being blatantly stared at by some godlike man moments after you’ve woken up is totally cool and fine and not overwhelming at all. You’re definitely not breathless from a combination of V’s face and the fact he’d picked you up like you were weightless.

“I’m fine,” you lie. “I’m gonna… go and shower then make breakfast and stuff. Yep.”

V’s eyes light up. “Can I help?” A fleeting image of V rubbing a soapy loofah over your naked skin fills you with spine-tingling trepidation before he finishes his sentence. “I want to learn how to cook.”

Your chest deflates with relief (and absolutely not disappointment), air rushing out of you. Thank God.

“Oh, breakfast? Sure.” You’d been planning on cereal, but faced with V’s overwhelming enthusiasm, maybe you’ll go for something marginally more complicated. Scrambled eggs sound good. “Um. Do you need to download the food preparation package or whatever you mentioned before? Do you… uh, do you need the Wifi password to do that? I never changed it from the random string of letters off the back of the router, but I can go check it for you.”

V shakes his head. “No, I want to learn like a human would,” he says. The blanket in his arms crumples as he tightens his grip in his eagerness, all but bouncing up and down on his feet. “You can teach me.”

Your chest could cave in with how cute he is, every part of you turning to thick gouache that drips down to the floor, leaving a mess of brightness and colour.

This time you ask him to wait in the kitchen while you’re in the bathroom, rather than lurking on the doorstep like he had last night, and he’s practically vibrating with excitement when you reappear. He stays like that the whole time you cook, bright-eyed and bushy tailed, staring as you make yourself scrambled eggs and more toast; you let V take ownership of that part, and he stares at the toaster so intently you have to stifle a laugh.

He spreads butter exactly the same way as you. Not that there’s a specific art to it, or a massive variety in techniques—he’s just spreading butter, not painting a new Mona Lisa—but the way he holds the knife and runs it over the bread is an exact echo of your motions from last night. He might not have downloaded files into his memory (brain?) like another android might, but his mechanical origin is obvious in the way he learns. They’re an exact replication of your actions rather than something new of his own.

“So, uh.” You push the last bit of egg around your plate, brown crumbs sticking to the wedge of golden yellow, sullying it. “V.”

Blink, blink. His lashes are so long, eyes so inquisitive. “Yes?”

“I’m really happy you’re here and that you trust me—” at this, V smiles and you almost fumble over your words at its radiance—“but I feel like I should tell you that I don’t really know much about androids?”

V is unperturbed. “That’s okay. You don’t have to.”

He clearly isn’t bothered that you’re way out of your depth, but you hate feeling lost like this. “Alright, but… I want you to be comfortable. I’m already planning to get more clothes, but if there’s anything else you need, just let me know. Okay?”

“Why can’t I just wear your clothes?”

Oh, he’s going to be the death of you, all wide-eyed innocence.

“For starters, most of them won’t fit properly,” you explain. “And you shouldn’t just have to wear my old stuff that I don’t use anymore? You should have your own things.”

The look of surprise on V’s face morphs into guilt only moments later. He’s so incredibly expressive and you wonder if it’s because he’s not used to feeling things, all of his reactions so strong and bright, shining out from him. A rainbow palette of emotions. “I don’t want to be a bother,” he murmurs. “You’re already doing so much for me.”

“I’m really not, I’m just treating you the way anyone deserves to be treated.” You flick the crumb of egg across your plate, and it almost tumbles over the edge, caught on its patterned rim. “You deserve to have your own things. Which is my next point. I think you should choose your own name.”

V’s face becomes a sea of rippling ambivalence, contrasting emotions that shift and vary—confusion, uncertainty, excitement, your words a brush that drags through each distinct emotion and pulls them into a messy, mismatched gradient. “Choose my own name?”

“You don’t have to. I just thought it might be a nice idea. V seems…” Your cheeks heat up at the memory of the curl of his lips when he’d shown you the meaning behind his alias, how his tongue had shined under the purple lights of the club. “Well, you didn’t get to choose it, right? It’s a nom de plume, rather than a real name.”

V’s LED flickers yellow, a sunflower that blooms on his temple. “I’ll… I’ll think about it.”

“Good!” Your smile is wide. “Okay, how about I teach you how to wash dishes?”

V is, unsurprisingly, a fast learner. The only time he stumbles over things is when he’s presented with any sort of choice, taking his time to come to a decision when he’s posed a question, no matter how simple it is. His eyes will flick to you whenever he settles on an answer, as if waiting for you to say he’s wrong or that you disagree.

(Of course, you never do.)

This fact does, however, mean that choosing clothes to buy becomes a very, very long ordeal (it’s lucky you didn’t have any plans for today). You end up flopped back on the sofa while V hunches over your tablet, mulling over each choice before he puts it in the cart—but you’re happy to wait. V is going to need a lot more practice at choosing things.

The room is upside down from where your head is hanging over the armrest, eyes falling shut as time goes by, completely zoned out and comfortable despite the crick that’s growing in your neck. You hear V shifting, tablet set aside, and you hum.

“All done?”

“I think so.”

“Nice.” You feel content.

But then you’re ripped out of that warm feeling, shooting back to reality at the sensation of V’s hand stroking down the centre of your chest. Your head snaps up, eyes wide as he drags his large palm between the valley of your breasts, path smoothed by the material of your shirt. The expression on his face is sultry.

“Let me say thank you,” he murmurs, voice dripping thick and sweet, dark molasses.

You promptly roll off the sofa.

Once again, you end up on your back, staring at the ceiling. Once again, the expression on V’s face is one of concern, his seductive facade evaporated in an instant.

Once again your heart is ready to burst in your chest, pumping so hard that blood rushes in your ears. “V,” you wheeze. “What are you doing?”

The android is peering down at you, puzzled. “Sometimes customers would say that at the Eden Club after I had given them pleasure somehow, such as bringing them to orgasm. I thought it was human custom to repay pleasure or happiness with something in return.”

Ah.

“Ah.” You’re still staring at the ceiling, cheeks burning. “I mean. I guess that’s not technically incorrect, but it doesn’t necessarily have to be a, uh, sexual repayment.”

“I have nothing else to offer,” V says.

You sit up. Your face is a caricature of disbelief, embarrassment washed away in an instant, his words cold water that shocks you to the core. He states it so plainly, and once again you’re reminded of his life up until he’d made his way to your door: an automaton who existed solely for people’s pleasure, to slake their desire and lust. He’s not being self-pitying. He really, truly believes that’s all he is. That it’s all he can give back to the world.

“Okay, no, that’s absolutely not true, nuh-uh, I refuse.” This time you unfold yourself from the floor without V’s help, fixing him with a firm stare. “Alright, come on. I think it’s time you learned something else.”

One of the reasons you’d chosen this apartment is for its natural light. Not that it matters right now, weather outside still dismal and overcast, but its effect on this room is still palpable even so—grey, rain-soaked light throws itself over your small home studio, your menagerie of equipment, everything bright with the evidence of use: the worn buckles of the wooden storage boxes, the dried smears on the paint palette, the flecks of colour on the dust sheets underfoot. The centre of it all—the eye of the tornado, untouched by the relative chaos around it—is the canvas waiting on your easel, a project you have yet to start.

V looks utterly enraptured.

“I don’t really come in here as much as I’d like,” you admit. Being a graphic designer is worlds away from the sort of art you love to create, and while it’s a job you genuinely enjoy (and also pays well), it leaves you drained and fills your brain with tired static, little energy left to lavish on your personal works. “But this is where the magic happens. And this is where you’re going to Make Art.”

V freezes. “The only things I know about art are the things you told me when we first met.” He looks equal parts excited but also troubled. “I—”

“You don’t need to know about art to make art,” you say. “I didn’t know jack about art when I was a kid and I was constantly just scribbling away with crayons. Was it good? No. I was a kid with zero pen control, it was pretty crap. Was it worth my time? Yes, because any time spent involved in a craft is never wasted. We can learn more about art history and technique later.”

V stays quiet as you loop your apron over his head, rough material still bearing the remnants of your last works, stains that won’t come out. Oil based paints are kind of a bitch like that.

“I don’t know what to paint,” he says.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to,” you reply, an echo of his earlier words.

V looks lost, barefoot in your studio, in your clothes, your apron, holding onto your wooden paint palette, in front of your easel. Everything in here is yours. Everything, that is, apart from him, whatever is in his mind and heart.

“Where do I start?” V’s eyes are imploring as he looks at you, but for the first time today, your voice is firm.

“Wherever you want. There aren’t any rules. Just do whatever you think would be fun. It doesn’t have to look good, V, you’ve just started.”

You’ve seen paintings made by androids before. They’re always perfect recreations of the world around them, exact replicas of the things they’ve been told to depict on the page—the androids are basically glorified photocopiers, unable to create something original and new.

But they’re not V. They don’t have that spark of curiosity and light inside them, unhampered by the programming that’s meant to keep them in place. His LED dances from yellow to blue, yellow to blue, the rest of his body motionless while the light on his temple is a tumult of movement and colour.

Dark eyes slide over the array of paint hanging from a rack on the wall, some metal tubes more crushed than others, evidence of your preferred shades—you notice how his gaze lingers on the midnight tones, red and blue tinted purples, from lavender to lilac, from plum to wine.

V gives you one more look, a little upturn to his thick brows—almost pleading—and you just gesture with your hand.

“Go for it,” you say.

Your wooden palette becomes home to a riot of purple, each tube squeezed empty with careful hands, far more paint than anyone could possibly ever need. V keeps flicking you glances, but you stay silent, perched on a wooden chair by the now open window, rain-slick air a cold breath on your skin.

The brush the android selects is a wide, bold thing, bristles rough. He handles it like bone china, delicate and liable to shatter any moment, cautious as he dips it into the paint—it’s so wide it picks up three separate shades—and he holds his breath as he brings it up, even if he doesn’t have lungs.

The second the bristles touch the canvas, V’s LED flickers red.

Just for an instant.

He swoops the brush down the canvas as he pulls it away, eyes wide, leaving a slash of purples in its wake. The white material is marred with colour, a textured line of pigment that can’t be erased.

The android pauses as he takes the sight in. He’s still for so long that you’re worried he’s shut down, even with the endlessly dancing circle of his LED—

But then V laughs.

His laugh is loud and bright and free, a series of deep, almost surprised chuckles that grow in intensity and breathlessness, staring at this smear of drying acrylic paint in front of him. The smile on his face is the widest you’ve seen so far, his eyes squeezed into crescents of joy, spilling out of him like light.

“I did that.” He looks at you with that gilded smile, a fresco of delight across the perfection of his features. “I made that.”

“You did.” You can’t help but smile back, your own face split with happiness. You continue to smile as he brings the brush back to the palette, and then to the canvas, dragging the bristles across its surface and leaving more purple behind; the shades swirl and mix as he lays colour without a care for technique or clean lines or form, scooping up the endless amounts of acrylic he’d prepared. By the time he’s finished, the canvas is bumpy with daubs of paint, laid messily by joyful hands, a few bold streaks of unmarred colour surrounded by swirling purples.

The smile hasn’t left V’s face the whole time.

His brush is absolutely saturated, paint clinging to every inch of bristle, from toe to belly to heel. You have no doubt that no matter how much you clean that brush it’ll leak purple into the water, an endless reminder of V’s touch. It’s lax in his grasp as he keeps looking at the canvas, his canvas, smile etched into his face as his LED flows soft blue, content.

You can’t remember the last time you saw someone so elated, buoyed up with the excitement of creation, making something out of nothing, discovering how it feels to bring something into existence, pulling it out of the ether. Making something new. Making something their own. It stirs something in your chest and stomach, reminding you why you love art so much. Why you’ve always loved art. (Why you always will.)

“I made that,” V repeats, his voice a reverent hush. Awestruck.

“It’s beautiful,” you say, because it is—for a multitude of reasons. The reason that sings out to you the most, though, is that it’s the cause of happiness that dances across his face: V, a carved candle, a piece of art made with skilled hands, self-made joy finally catching fire at his wick.

“Thank you,” V says, and you blink.

“For what?”

“For giving me this,” he starts, but before you can interject and point out that you didn’t give him this, he made it, he continues: “For giving me… freedom. To do this. And make this. And learn this.”

The smile that spreads across your face is warm hearth fire. “I didn’t give you freedom, V, you gave that to yourself, but I’m happy to help you any way I can. Now, would you like to keep painting, or would you prefer to help me make dinner?”

He chooses dinner, never leaving your side.

Sunday is nice. There's less messy limbed surprise than on Saturday, although you’re still off kilter when you wake up with your head in V’s lap again, but… it’s nice.

You thought he’d spend the night painting, or drawing, or teaching himself something new using the free rein you’d given him with your computer and notebooks and stationery and art supplies—he doesn’t have to waste time with sleep, like you do—but he hadn’t. He’d climbed into your bed, settling against the pillows just like the night before, looking at you with his big, lovely eyes.

So here he is.

(And here you are.)

It’s cosy and comfortable, even if the feeling of warm skin under warm cotton against your cheek sets your heart to racing, V’s dark eyes even warmer when you roll over to look at his face.

“Morning,” he says.

“Morning,” you reply, and then you yawn, V’s lashes fluttering as he takes in the motion. “What time is it?”

Today’s rain is less of an endless downpour and more of an inconsistent drizzle, grey blanket slowly peeling away from the edges of the city, but it doesn’t matter, because you’re inside for most of the day, anyway. Saturday was hands-on, messy with acrylic and spilled coffee and laundry detergent (V really wants to learn everything), but Sunday is hands-off. You spend the day dredging the corners of your memory and scrolling through old, untouched files from your university years, so you can teach V the things he wants to know while relearning the things you’d forgotten yourself.

V’s little LED dances forever from blue into yellow, ocean waves lapping into sand, a shifting tide as he takes in your words. You’ve never had to teach someone before and you’re admittedly pretty terrible at it, but he never complains, the world’s most attentive and adorable student, sat on the floor with his legs crossed and his hair mussed and his eyes wide, drinking down everything you show him.

You only leave the apartment once. Lunch is delayed when you open your fridge and remember how bereft and sad it is inside, so you venture out into the rain to the nearby supermarket—V opts to stay indoors, LED flickering red at the idea of being caught, shying back.

You leave him looking lost and lonely before the door even finishes swinging shut behind you, long limbs looking even longer in your clothes, but somehow still so small.

“I won’t be long,” you promise.

When you get back, you return not only with bags of food but also clothes, V’s order from yesterday already shipped and delivered. He can finally replace your too-small clothing with things he’s chosen himself. It’s a fumble to get in the door, but the android is waiting for you, swinging it open and catching the bag you nearly drop in surprise.

“I have your clothes,” you announce. “I’ll put away the shopping while you try them on?”

You’re going to have to tattoo a reminder on your forehead about V’s relationship (or lack thereof) with clothes, because of course he takes this as an invitation to start stripping before you’ve even had a chance to take your shoes off.

He does that thing where he grabs the back of his (your) shirt and pulls it over his head in one swift motion, curls of hair a cloud of smoke that settles around his face as the shirt is cast aside; you’re frozen in place as he reaches for the knot of his sweatpant’s drawstring, long fingers pulling it loose, but you let out a sharp meep just as his fingers hook into the waistband of them.

“PleasewaituntilI’mnotrightinfrontofyouthankyou,” you gasp all at once, words incoherent as they slide together, but V understands. He tilts his head at you inquisitively although he (thankfully) stops.

“Don’t you want to see the clothes?”

“I do, but, uh, for humans it’s normally customary to only get entirely naked or change clothes when you’re alone.” Your heart is going to burst out of your chest with how fast it’s racing. Without the string to cinch the sweatpants tight they’re starting to fall a little, revealing the delicate lines of his hip bones, and coupled with the reappearance of V’s bare stomach, your brain is going into meltdown. “So just—just give me a sec to go to the kitchen, okay? You’re probably better off changing in the bedroom, anyway, so you can use the full length mirror to see how you look.”

“Okay,” he says, but then: “Do humans never undress around others unless they’re planning to have sex?”

Your mouth falls open before you pause, words halting on your lips as you try to think of the best way to phrase your answer. “Well, we do, it’s not just about sex, but it’s usually only if you’re really comfortable with the other person you’re with, and they’re comfortable with you.”

“I’m comfortable with you,” V states plainly, and your insides turn to jelly. “Are you not comfortable with me?”

Oh, hell. “I am, I am! I’m just, uh… I’ve not really had a lot of practice with nakedness around other people.” What a way to put that you’re a shy ass virgin when it comes to real life nudity and sex, huh. “So let’s just keep it to a minimum for now, okay? Please?”

The android’s LED flickers honey-sweet on his temple as he looks at you, before his hands fall away from the sweatpants. “Okay.”

(Thank God.)

You’re not sure what you’re expecting to see when V starts to present his small array of outfits to you, but—he looks effortlessly stylish in the oversized clothes he’s selected, a muted palette of brown and yellow and red and cream, a cup of hot chocolate on an autumn day. He might be new to all this but his eye for aesthetic is impeccable. You have no doubt that the more he learns, the better he’ll get, hop-skip-jumps ahead of you, even after years of art education.

He’s even bought pyjamas, dark tartan patterns masculine but also adorable; it’s an utter juxtaposition to the tighter, sensual clothing he’d been given at the Eden Club.

“You look really good,” you tell him. Your voice is only a little strained. He smiles.

The outfit V wears for the rest of the afternoon is perfect for a rainy day spent indoors, thick jumper and tawny trousers, a blend of sepia tones. He looks like if you made a hug into a person: all soft edges and cosy and wrapped up in warmth.

And V is warm. You’re not sure if it’s a lingering memory of his programming, a carry over from his start in life as a sexbot, but he likes to touch—nothing inappropriate or overbearing, but he’s not shy about stepping into your personal space, brushing the back of your hand with his fingers as he points at something on the screen, or pressing close to your side as you cook, or just one of the hundreds of other tiny touches that he’s littered across you throughout the day. It’s thoughtless on his part, LED not even flickering, but each time is just another reminder of his warmth, the blue blood pulsing under his skin, how alive he is.

(And the truth is that you enjoy those touches. You’re not used to them, but lord knows you’re touch starved, so as fleeting as they are, they’re nice.)

Even though you still leave plenty of space between the two of you when you lay to sleep, you swear you can feel the heat spilling off V, another warm body in the bed that’s so used to just one. Though he stays sitting up, he’s in his cute matching pyjamas, and it’s… it’s a lot. You’ve invited V into your home—and you don’t regret it—but after two days he’s already settled in in a way you never thought anyone else would, as entirely unconventional as the whole situation is. (You’re not sure how many people have sheltered a deviant android in their homes, though, so maybe this isn’t as unconventional as you think. Who knows? Not you.)

“I have to go to work tomorrow.”

V tilts his head down to look at you.

“You can get up to whatever you’d like,” you continue. You’re propped up on an elbow so it’s less intimate than if you’d been on your back and staring upwards like you were waiting for him to slide down next to you (that’s what it feels like, to you, anyway). “You know the password for my computer now, and you’re welcome to watch TV or play games or whatever, and you can use all my stuff in the studio. I mean, other than painting or drawing over stuff I’ve already finished, but you’re welcome to grab any paper or canvases if you want them. I think that’s everything? But please let me know if there’s more you want or need, okay?”

Blink, blink. His lashes are soft charcoal that frames the spilled ink of his gaze. In the dimmed light of your room V is unreadable, his LED a quiet blue glow on his temple, but he looks soft, and he looks safe, and he nods.

“Alright,” he says. A smile that flickers at the edge of his lips. “I will.”

(You wake up, quiet and slow, face pillowed against V’s thigh, still drifting in sleep. You make a small noise, eyes shut, wondering why there’s no blaring sound of your alarm, but then a large hand smooths over your hair and you instinctively relax under the soft touch.

“You have thirty three minutes until you’re due to wake up,” he murmurs. “You can go back to sleep.”

So you do.)

(When you wake up to the scream of your alarm thirty three minutes later, you don’t remember any of this. All you can think of is the dawn of another Monday, the slog of another working week, and you sigh. But—

“Morning.”

V’s eyes are dark meok ink, liquid earth that grounds you.

“Morning,” you say, smiling despite yourself, and then roll out of bed to get the whole day started.)

You’re used to spending a day surrounded by laughter and banter, wrapped up in the camaraderie of your co-workers and friends, only to return to a world of quiet solitude. You’re used to coming home to rooms that are untouched from the morning, holding onto the echo of your passing, still and waiting for your return, an apartment of motionless air.

But not today. There’s evidence of someone else here: the open door to your studio down the hall, the scattered books on the coffee table, the mess of cushions on the sofa, all small signs that someone has been moving and living in your absence. A still-life that’s shifted into a breathing trompe l’oeil, V’s presence bringing flatness into perspective, turning it into something real.

It’s… nice.

You flop onto the sofa and send one of those cushions overboard, tumbling to the ground. V appears in the doorway moments later, new apron already streaked with colour, copper green thumbprint on his face like he’d touched it in thought and not realised. A little streak of paint that draws the eye to his lovely chin.

“Welcome home!” His hair is blond today, a golden nimbus around his face, though his eyes are still dark. Light and shadow. His happiness is infectious and you smile helplessly back, glad for his excitement with painting—but it seems like he hasn’t finished. “I’m happy you’re home. I missed you.”

KO. Wipeout. Your heart turns to liquid in your chest, burnt sugar that dribbles hot and saccharine through your ribs.

“I chose a name.” V continues, oblivious to how he’s turned your insides into syrup, and you abruptly sit up.

“Oh?”

“Taehyung.” The way he says it, in his deep voice, those two syllables are endless—a single name, heavy with the weight of meaning behind it. A shedding of his old skin, one that was forced on him, leaving him pink-skinned and new and free.

“Taehyung,” you repeat, and his LED flickers at the sound falling off your lips. “Taehyung. It’s lovely.”

He’s smiling, that lovely toothy smile that you’ve already decided is your favourite out of any smile you’ve seen, his LED electric blue and swirling in delight.

Day after day, you wake up to the sight of that LED glowing as Taehyung watches you lift up out of sleep. Night after night, you come home to his lovely, big grin, all large hands and soft hair—hair that he chooses to change colour when he pleases, a dizzying palette with every shade you can dream of. He’s bright and deep, playful and reflective, a dance of flirty Rococo to more solemn Baroque, every day another day where he learns and grows and adds another facet to the cut diamond of his personality.

(It hasn’t been long but you’re starting to think you’d put the world in the palm of his hand, if you could.)

You never thought you’d live to see the day where someone as lovely as Taehyung would be glad to see you home, having missed you after being apart—but for all that he’s voraciously leaning into the arts, consuming everything from visual to literary to performance, he’s never happier than when you’re there too. He shows you his works, improvement obvious with every new piece, but his excitement grows tenfold when you start to paint alongside him; seeing him so joyful spurs you to pick your brushes up again, buoyed up with motivation in the face of his own.

(Your studio is usually quiet, a little reflective maybe, the only sound the music you play over your speakers—but now more often than not you and Taehyung will talk, and laugh, and even if you’ve both ebbed into silence, it’s never heavy. It’s a held breath. The potential to speak any moment. The sensation of another person in the same space as you, an orbit, both existing in a shared moment, connected by gossamer threads that shimmer with sunlight.

Taehyung’s eyes are steady on his canvas as he works, but he glances at you through the curl of his lashes, smiling back at you. Always, always smiling, LED calm blue as the rest of his face shines golden, bright.)

(Maybe it’s selfish, but you think you could get used to this.)

taglist: @beyoncesdragon

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wolferine · 3 years ago

Text

Stay Away From My Girl

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Part 1 of “Forbidden Fruit”

Summary: The reader tries hitting on Wanda, but she’s already got someone else.

Warnings: Mentions of torture, language

Word count: 1015

Tags: @yeetus-thyself @phoenixofash @yeeterthekeeper @diaryoflife @norwaynatasharomanoff @lovelyy-moonlight @nightingalxx @supersourlemon13

AN: Character swap reimagining from a scene in X-Men (2000 film). Enjoy!

You walk down the hall after Wanda, glad for a reason to put her in front of you as you subtly try to admire her body. The way her hair flows down her back in gentle red waves, the teasing sway of her hips. Her perfume reminds you of trees and fruit, and her smell is intoxicating like a drug.

You’re so busy leering you don’t notice her look over her shoulder at you. Too late, you snap to attention and grin sheepishly. Instead of telling you off, her lips curl into a smirk.

Her response catches you off guard, especially because she already belongs to someone else. Maybe she’s looking for a reason to break it off; you’ll be more than happy to be that reason.

“This is your room here.” Wanda opens the door to a modestly sized bedroom decorated with dark walnut furniture. She goes in first, crossing the room to turn on the lamp.

You walk in after her, running your hand over the scratchy sheets stretched tightly over the bed. Given the rest of the compound, you’re surprised by how basic it looks. It could almost be compared to a prison if you wanted to be dramatic enough, but you’re not exactly here on your own free will either.

You had been rescued by Steve Rogers—Captain America himself—and Natasha Romanoff, a.k.a. the Black Widow. Ever since your arrival, you noticed an unmistakable tension between yourself and the Russian assassin, but that was probably due to your immediate interest in her girlfriend, and she didn’t seem like the type interested in sharing.

“Where’s your room?” you ask Wanda.

“Down the hall with Natasha,” she says.

“Of course it is.” You didn’t need your enhanced senses to see the closeness and protectiveness between the two. You walk over to the double-door closet, sliding both sides open at the same time.

“So, what’s your power?” you ask. “Putting up with her?” Natasha already rubs you the wrong way because your life is indebted to her and she’s taken your place as Wanda’s romantic partner.

“I can move things with my mind,” Wanda says.

“What kinds of things?” You turn to face her. She cocks her head, and suddenly, the closet doors fold shut seemingly of their own accord.

Wanda smiles. “All kinds of things.”

“Hmm.” You lick your lips and look at her intensely.

“I can also read minds,” she says, breaking eye contact with you.

“Really?” This piques your interest. “You want to give mine a shot?” you ask, wondering if she already has. If she had, she would already have seen your infatuation with her and what you were willing to do to win her over. Not to mention what you’d do to her once she was yours.

Wanda smiles, although that’s not much of answer. “I’d rather not,” she says.

You walk up to her, standing so close you’re almost nose-to-nose. Her perfume swirls around your head and you have to remind yourself to stay calm. “Come on,” you goad. “Afraid you might like it?”

“I doubt it.” But she can’t resist your earnestness and wants to satisfy her curiosity. She brings her hands up, holding them on either side of your head. She closes her eyes, although you wish she wouldn’t, so instead you stare at her lips while she concentrates.

While you think about the things you want to do to her, Wanda sheepishly searches past your present thoughts to your past. Your memories are hot and painful, pushed to the deepest recesses of your mind as a coping mechanism. You wouldn’t willingly remember them, so you had no way of stopping Wanda from digging through.

You’re pinned to the ground by two men as a third beats you with a baton, bashing it across your chest until your ribs break and blood spews out of your mouth.

You’re chained to a wall, naked, as a woman laughs while spraying you with icy water from a power hose.

You’re fighting against your restraints as the surgeon positions a power drill to your temple—

“Oh, God,” Wanda whispers, too horrified to continue.

“What did you see?” you ask, grabbing her hands, afraid your memories had scared her off.

“Nat.” Wanda looks over your shoulder and you do too, startled to find the Russian assassin standing motionlessly in your doorway. You hadn’t even heard her sneak up on you two.

Wanda gently pulls her hands out of yours. “Good night, Y/N,” she whispers, walking past you. Jealousy flames in your stomach when Wanda stops to kiss Natasha on the cheek and disappears down the hall. But Natasha doesn’t leave with her, staring at you with her arms folded across her chest. The silence is suffocating.

“You gonna tell me to stay away from your girl?” you finally ask.

“If I had to do that, she wouldn’t be my girl,” Natasha responds.

“Well, I guess you have nothing to worry about, then.” You walk up to her and look down at her. She’s still wearing the leather catsuit she is almost never seen in public without. “Black Widow, right?” You snap your fingers. “You ever take that thing off?”

Natasha pauses before answering. “When I’m with her.”

You can’t stop your eye from twitching and she notices. She sees how much she’s pressing your buttons and she enjoys it. She has something you can’t but want, and your jealousy is something she relishes in.

“You know, it wouldn’t hurt to get a ‘thank you’ for saving your life.” Natasha comments.

“Thanks,” you growl, and that’s all she’s getting from you.

“You’re welcome,” she beams. “You better hope I’m there for you the next time you get yourself tangled up.”

“There won’t be a next time.”

“Let’s hope not.” Natasha turns to leave, but pauses, her hand on the door handle. “Oh, and Y/N...I better not catch Wanda in here with you ever again.”

“It’s my room,” you reply.

“And she’s my girl. So stay the hell away from her.” Natasha steps into the hall and slams the door shut in your face.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Click here for Part 2.

AN: This is my first time writing (wannabe) Wanda x Reader (I usually do Nat x Reader), but given the powers of the characters in this scene I had to adjust accordingly

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #scarlet witch #black widow #marvel imagine #wandanat #natasha x wanda #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff

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starrconch · 4 years ago

Text

FALLING ASLEEP ON S/O

★ Includes: Zhongli, Diluc, GN reader, fluff

★ Word Count: 1213

★ Master List

ZHONGLI

★ The sun was setting in Liyue Harbour as you arrived back at your house. It had been a long day for you, full of several commissions that had drained your energy completely save for some that you had reserved to trudge through your front door.

★ As you fell onto your couch, giving your aching muscles a well-earned rest, you heard someone approach you from behind.

“Ah, Y/N, I thought I heard you. Welcome home,” Zhongli greeted, reaching forward to help you take off your shoes. “Were your commissions today quite challenging? I wish I could have come with you.”

As he went to undo your laces, you quickly turned around and leapt into his arms instead, nearly knocking the two of you off balance. “They were,” you whined, nuzzling into his chest.

“My, my. You appear to be very tired, my dear.” He held you tight as he knew you loved that. “Shall I make you some tea to help ease the tension here?” Your partner moved his hands up to your shoulders and massaged them gently.

When you nodded, he slipped out of your embrace and made his way to your kitchen. “Why don’t you get cleaned up and I’ll have this ready for the both of us?” He called back to you as he noticed you were once again face-first on your couch.

★ While you changed, the aroma of lavender and vanilla trailed its way from the sitting room, luring you back out as if he were baiting a fish to the surface of its river.

★ Zhongli had taken the courtesy to also prepare you a light meal in the time while you changed for you to replenish your strength. It wasn’t anything too fancy as he didn’t have too much time, but it still made your chest tighten with admiration nonetheless.

★ You adored how much he knew about food (and simply a lot of things in general) and how good he was at making it too. It was thrilling to learn a new piece of information every time you were with him.

“Thank you so much, Zhongli.” You sunk next to him in your seat, resting your head against his shoulder as you sipped away at the warm beverage.

“Of course.” He wrapped his arm around your waist. “Would you like me to continue the story I was telling you last night?” His head rested against your own.

You perked up at the sound of that. For three nights in a row, your partner had been describing Captain Beidou’s story of how she took down a three-headed hydra called Haishan. The battle had gone on for four days, including the captain’s long ceaseless ten-hour battle with the beast. It was even where the incredible woman had gotten her vision.

As he continued to speak, occasionally rubbing his hands in circles on the small of your back, you felt yourself begin to doze off. You couldn’t help it. As much as you wanted to hear the rest of the story, the effect of both the tea and Zhongli’s calming voice soothed you and had you falling into the claim of sleep.

★ When your partner noticed you had drifted off, he smiled, marked in his mind where he had gotten to in the story and continued to speak for a little while so the sudden lack of his voice didn’t wake you again.

★ He knew you found comfort in the sound of his voice, and it pleased him. The mere fact that you enjoyed any part of his presence made him happier than you or anyone could comprehend.

★ After a while, and once he was sure you were in a deep enough sleep, Zhongli carried you to the bed that you both shared, cuddling you tight.

DILUC

★ Your partner had been busy all day, tending to business deals in and around Mondstadt in the morning and then burying himself in mountains of paperwork all afternoon. You knew this was his job, so you couldn’t exactly criticize him for it, but you were lonely.

★ He was still in his office now as the sun dipped below the horizon, leaving you to wonder if he even remembered the promise he’d made to have dinner with you tonight.

You knocked lightly on the door to Diluc’s office, carrying a glass of water for him. He had been shut in there all day and you were certain he wasn’t taking care of himself. If it weren’t for you and his maids, he would have run himself into the ground already.

When you heard a faint response, you pushed the door open. The large stack of papers you had spied earlier had been halved, but his focus was still as strong.

“Diluc? You’ve been at this for hours, maybe you should take a break?” You proposed, placed the glass on a coaster by his side.

He looked up for a moment and smiled. “Y/N, thank you for bringing me water but I cannot rest now. A few more hours and I should be finished.” Despite his words, he dropped his pen for a short while to stretch his arms before continuing.

You pouted and crossed your arms. He would be breaking his promise but you knew this work had to be done no matter what. If you suggested eating together downstairs he’d either bring his documents down with him or suggest bringing the food up to him.

Being careful not to jog your partner, you walked around him so his writing arm wasn’t in the way and climbed on top of him to sit in his lap. Your head instinctively buried itself in his crimson hair.

Diluc paused in his signing. “My love, what’s the matter? Who wronged you.”

You. You wanted to say, but you held back your tongue. “Nothing.” You shook your head. “I just wanted a hug.”

His arms tightened around you for a second until he resumed his work again. “All you need to do is ask, I’m here to provide for whatever you need.”

★ Diluc had in fact calculated the time correctly and you stayed snuggled into him for a few hours. The constant rising and falling of his chest lulling you to sleep with its calming rhythm.

When your partner was finally finished with his work, it was very late into the night, so much so that he swore he could hear the maids saying good night to each other before heading off to sleep themselves. He internally cursed himself and looked down at you, finding you asleep on his shoulder.

★ Holding onto you tightly and praying none of the maids saw him like this (they would tease him and gossip about it for months), he lifted you as he stood, making his way to your shared bedroom.

★ He tucked you into the sheets, placing a kiss on your forehead before trying to move away. However, he found that you wouldn’t let go of him, clinging to him as if he would leave and never return.

★ With a roll of his eyes and a smile, he joined you. The heat that radiated off of him subconsciously drew you to snuggle in closer.

★ Before he fell asleep too, Diluc made a mental note to make sure he attended dinner with you tomorrow.

#genshin impact #diluc #zhongli #genshin diluc #genshin zhongli #genshin x reader #genshin x you #diluc x reader #diluc x you #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #genshin headcannons #starrconch #genshin scenarios

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loverhymeswith · 3 years ago

Text

Enough | Stephen Holder x F!Reader | Three

Pairing: Stephen Holder x Detective!Reader

Summary: Reeling after your partner's revelation, you find your relationship with Holder about to change forever...

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, language, smoking, soft Holder!

Word Count: 3,701 words

A/N: As always, a huge thank you @yespolkadotkitty for the original prompt for this story and also the additional prompt: "I thought you were a pro at this?"

I'd also like to thank @a-reader-and-a-writer for beta reading this and giving me some much needed reassurance!

And a special mention to @babblydrabbly and @lorecraft for inspiring the ending...

Taglist: @reysorigins @heresathreebee @xoxabs88xox @endmeprettyplease

Prequel | Part One | Part Two

“Stephen”, you manage to choke out. “I’m not who you think I am. I can’t be the person you need me to be.”

He’s shaking his head, the corner of his lips turning up ever so slightly. “You’re already exactly who I need you to be.”

And then he kisses you.

It’s swift and desperate and clumsy and Holder, but you don’t pull away. In fact, you clutch the sleeve of his shirt even tighter, steadying yourself as his tongue sweeps across your bottom lip. While his actions might have taken you by surprise, there’s no hesitation in your body’s response, desire instantly pooling in your lower belly.

Your brain takes just a little longer to catch up. To remember where you are and who it is you’re kissing. But even knowing that this is wrong - because this is your partner, this is Holder - the force required to tear yourself away from him is alarming.

Releasing your grip on his sleeve, the pair of you stagger apart until little more than a metre separates you. Drawing in a deep breath, you force yourself to look up and find him staring back at you, eyes wild and jaw slack with surprise, like even he can’t believe he just did that. An expression that no doubt matches your own.

When he finally speaks there’s a hint of pleading, of nervousness to his deep voice that has your stomach clenching. “I – uh - don’t hate me for that, ok?”

Despite the overwhelming urge to reassure him, you simply shake your head and cradle your injured arm close to your chest. With everything he’s just admitted your head is spinning and you don’t trust yourself to speak.

“Fuck, you’re freakin’ out, ain’t you? I can tell.” He’s frowning down at you now, brows creased with concern as he shifts from one foot to the other.

You shake your head again, feeling like a broken record. Dealing with an angry Holder was one thing, but a hesitant and stumbling Holder? You’re not equipped to handle this. Not in the way that you know you should. Because while most of your brain is screaming at you to push him away, to shut him out, a tiny voice at the back of your mind demands quite the opposite.

“You gonna say somethin’?” he continues in the same uncertain manner. “I mean, damn, you’re kinda freakin’ me out now…”

You probably should say something - anything - to alleviate this pressure building between the two of you. Your mouth opens and closes twice before the words begin to tumble out. “Holder, I - I think…” You trail off, distracted by the sensation of something warm and damp on your forehead. Touching a finger to the dressing over your stitches, it comes away bloody. “… I think I’m bleeding.”

“Aw shit.” Holder curses loudly and the tension instantly dissipates from the room. Holding you gently by your uninjured arm he guides you until the back of your knees hit the couch. As he helps you sit down, your bruised ribs protest at the movement and you notice for the first time just how light-headed you feel. Whether it’s a lingering side effect from your injury or simply the result of the kiss, you have no idea.

“Stay there”, he tells you firmly before disappearing into the kitchen once more.

Waiting for him to return, you tip the back of your head against the cushions and attempt to calm your racing mind, your racing heart. It happened so quickly; one minute you were arguing, the next he was kissing you. Is there a chance you imagined it? A chance it was nothing more than one of your misplaced fantasies? Surely this would be a far more logical conclusion than the alternative…

There’s a commotion coming from the kitchen, sounding suspiciously like someone rooting through cupboards and drawers. When Holder finally reappears with a damp cloth and a small first aid kit tucked beneath his arm, there’s a serious look etched across his angular face. You can’t help but snort softly at the juxtaposition of your tall, tattooed, and chaotic partner and this disarming attempt to play nursemaid.

“Yo, what’s so funny?” He sits down beside you, noticeably closer than before. His legs are spread and one long, jean-clad thigh presses against your own. Every muscle in your body tenses at the contact.

“Nothing.” You manage to laugh again, even though your mind is now laser-focused on the point where your two bodies meet. You can feel his warmth radiating through the denim and it takes a huge amount of self-control not to lean into it. “Just never had you down as the Florence Nightingale type.”

“Better believe it mamacita. Lucky for you I got mad skills.” He pulls out a roll of bandage with an overdramatic flourish, flashing you a smirk at the same time. “Now, you gonna let me fix you up, or what?”

With surprising tenderness, Holder cleans away the blood from your temple and replaces the dressing. You squeeze your eyes shut as his fingers drift across your skin, terrified of what you’ll find in his expression should you allow yourself to look at him. The reverent way he regarded you earlier almost threatened to destroy you. You’re not sure you’ll survive a second time around.

Only when he withdraws do you dare open your eyes, finding a lop-side grin stretching across his face as he deposits the kit on the small coffee table. “And there ya have it, good as new.”

“Thank you.” You force a weak smile, butterflies returning to your stomach because as predicted Holder is back to watching you intently, clearly waiting for you to carry on where you left off - before the brief and bloody interlude.

You’ve well and truly lost your earlier train of thought. In fact, if you’re being honest, you’re not even sure you had it to begin with. Holder was right. You are freaking out. Not because he kissed you, but because that tiny voice at the back of your mind is getting louder now, and it really wants him to do it again.

When it becomes obvious that you’re not going to continue he nudges his knee against your leg, sending another rush of warmth to the pit of your stomach. “So…uh… we gonna talk about this, or-?”

You stare down at your lap, at the blue plaster cast covering the lower half of your left arm. Anything to avoid looking at him. It was so much easier when he was angry with you. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Holder.” It feels like you’re teetering on the edge of something, and one wrong move could push you over.

“How ‘bout the truth?” There’s a hint of playfulness slowly returning to his voice, but you can still hear the doubt lacing every word. “Just tell me if I fucked up, a’ight? Cos you know I prefer it when you’re yellin’ at me, ‘stead of givin’ me that whole silent treatment crap.”

The truth. You’re not sure you know what that is anymore. A powerful and all-consuming need is bubbling away under your skin, threatening to erupt at any second. But is this yearning, this hunger, simply because you’re touch-starved and lonely, ready to fall into the arms of the first person to show you kindness, or is there something more to it? Is there a chance, no matter how small – no matter how implausible - that you have genuine feelings for Holder?

“It’s just… it’s a lot to take in”, you admit, starting to pick at the edges of the cast. Even in his seated and slouched position you’re dwarfed by his tall frame, and you have to fight the sudden urge to sink into him, to bury your head in his chest.

If he’s surprised by your answer, it doesn’t show. Recognising the nervous tic as an indicator of your mounting anxiety, Holder reaches out his hand and covers your fingers with his own. His hand is a burning brand against your skin and with another point of contact between the two of you, another spot where your bodies touch, you can feel your resolve weaken even further.

“I get it.” He squeezes your hand. “Really wasn’t plannin’ on droppin’ that next-level therapy bullshit on you back there. Just kinda slipped out. But, fuck, that stunt you pulled. You had me worried.”

“I’m sorry.” There’s a lot more you could say, should say, but you doubt it would ever be enough. Not now, not after he’s opened himself up to you like this. You recognise your own feelings are starting to mirror his startling admission but saying ‘me too’ just isn’t going to cut it. “I was blinded by the case. I see that now. I wasn’t thinking about anything else. I wasn’t thinking about you.”

Ignoring your apology, he shifts his upper body so that he’s almost facing you, one hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck, his own nervous tic. “And what you thinkin’ ‘bout now?”

Your gaze flits from where his other hand still covers your own, all the way up to those intense hazel eyes. “You.”

There’s a beat of silence as Holder fights some internal conflict, his jaw clenching. When he speaks again his voice is rough. “Fuck it, m’gonna do it again.”

You don’t get the chance to ask what he means.

All sense of reason - of what’s right and wrong - abandons you entirely the moment Holder crushes his mouth to yours. It’s less of a shock the second time around, but only just. You’re more aware of him. More aware of the scruff on his jaw tickling your chin, of the lingering scent of cigarette smoke on his breath.

With your uninjured arm you clutch at the collar of his t-shirt again, pulling him closer. Spurred on by your touch, his hand raises to cup the back of your neck and he deepens the kiss, picking up precisely where he left off by parting your lips with his tongue. It’s still just as swift and desperate and clumsy and Holder, but the rational part of your brain has now been completely silenced by that devil on your shoulder screaming that this is exactly what you want. What you need.

Holder tears himself away from you just long enough to gauge your reaction. His hand is still clasped around the back of your neck, his thumb stroking against your jaw. “You gonna tell me to stop?” he murmurs.

“No.”

The surprise that flickers across his face is quickly replaced by cautious relief. “You sure ‘bout that? Cos I don’t wanna-”

“I’m sure.” You cut him off with a growl. “Stop talking.” Gripping his shoulder, you tug him back down until he’s kissing you again. Until he’s caging you against the sofa with his body and palming your breast through your shirt. Desire rages through you like wildfire, a soft moan escaping from your lips.

Mistaking your pleasure for pain, Holder instantly draws back again, concern lining his face. “Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“You’re not. You won’t”, you try to assure him. “I’m fine.” You can see the doubt, the hesitance in his eyes as they travel to the dressing on your temple and back down to your cast. “Holder, please.” You barely recognise the desperation in your voice, but you’re going to combust if you have to wait a moment longer. He’s really going to make you say it, isn’t he?

“Touch me.”

Your request unleashes him.

Large hands grip you by the hips, careful to avoid your tender ribs as he pulls you onto his lap, and long fingers skim under the hem of your shirt, sending a shiver of pleasure along your spine. This position gives you a perfect view of his serenity tattoo, partially visible through the thin cotton of his t-shirt. You run a hand along his chest, using it to steady yourself as you swing your leg over and straddle his waist.

The evidence of his arousal presses against your centre and you instinctively roll your hips, grinding against his length. The movement causes a wave of pain for real this time – maybe you should take this slow – but the groan it elicits from Holder reverberates throughout your whole body, instantly taking your mind away from any discomfort. “Take it off”, you whisper, tugging at the fabric of his top.

Holder obliges, pulling off the offending article in one swift movement and offering you the first glimpse of his lean, muscular chest. Cursing the fact that you only have one useable hand you trail your fingers delicately over the intricate letters of the tattoo. He continues to watch you, mesmerised by your actions. You roll your hips, brushing over him again, the friction providing temporary relief from the tension already pooling in your core.

“Fuck, this is really happenin’.”

Even seated like this between your thighs, the man doesn’t know when to stop talking. You shut him up with a kiss, fervent and claiming. Your fingers card through the short length of his hair while beneath your shirt Holder’s hands roam freely. Along your back, across your chest, groping you softly through the thin material of your bra, every touch so infuriatingly gentle because he knows you’re bruised, knows you’re tender. But it’s still enough to ignite a path of fire across your skin.

When you withdraw from his lips, breathless but hungering for more, his eyes are blown wide with lust. It’s so rare to see your partner lost for words, you can’t help but feel a glimmer of satisfaction that you’ve had this effect on him.

Of course, when it comes to Holder the speechlessness doesn’t last for long. He tugs at the neck of your blouse. “Need to get you out these fuckin’ clothes.”

“What are you waiting for?” You demand, rolling your hips over him again.

Emboldened by your tone, his deft fingers make short work of your buttons, but when it comes to slipping the sleeve over your cast, with your arm set at a stiff angle against your chest, he stumbles.

“Thought you were supposed to be a pro at this?” you tease, trying not to smile as he mutters frustratedly under his breath.

He pauses his efforts and grins up at you, his eyes creasing in delight. “So you was listenin’ all those times, huh?”

You roll your eyes, pretty sure that a day hasn’t gone by without him mentioning his sexual prowess in one way or another. Brainwashing. That’s one explanation for what this is. But you don’t care, not anymore. You just need him to keep touching you. “Maybe.”

He nods, so cocky and sure of himself as you help him free you from the shirt. “This ain’t exactly the way I pictured it goin’ down, you and me. Soon as you’re healed up, I’ll show you just how much of a pro I am. Trust me, if you weren’t hurt right now, I’d have you up against that wall, screamin’ my name.”

Well, damn.

As if to punctuate that statement, his large hands skim over the lacy cups of your bra, squeezing your breasts through the material.

“I’m not that fragile, you know.” In an attempt to prove your point, you lean into his touch, wiggling your hips slightly at the same time.

“Oh I do know, baby.” Holder snakes a hand around your waist and unclips your bra, sliding it off you with far more ease than the blouse. Flinging the item somewhere across the room, he instantly drops his head to nuzzle between your breasts, peppering sloppy kisses along your sensitive skin. As you tip your head back another soft moan escapes. “Ain’t just you I’m worried about”, he mumbles against your chest. “I’m gonna fuckin’ combust if I don’t get to fuck you soon.”

“You’d better hurry up then.”

His head shoots up and he spears you with his gaze, pupils wide with lust, like he still can’t believe this is really happening. At least that makes two of you. With one hand still pawing at your flesh he helps you slide off his waist so you can stand. “Let’s take this to the boudoir.”

He walks you backwards, clumsily kissing and stroking and groping until you’re in the next room. His hands only leave your body to switch on the bedroom light. Now that you’re Illuminated by the warm glow, he pulls back to survey your body thoroughly, greedily. His expression darkens, but this time not with lust. Following his gaze, your eyes land on the angry red bruises blooming along your torso.

He doesn’t need to say a word. You already know exactly what he’s thinking. “Holder.” You reach up, cupping his jaw and tilting his face to look at you instead of your injuries. “I’m ok.”

He shakes his head, jaw tight as his eyes continue assessing you. “I should’a been there.”

“I didn’t give you a choice. But you’re here now, that’s all that matters.”

He nods, your words sinking in. “Ok.” He exhales loudly. “Gonna make you feel good now. Stop me if it’s too much.”

He lays you down on the bed with your legs hanging over the edge, allowing him to slide your black slacks and panties off in one go. “Fuck, you’re even better than I imagined.” His voice is hoarse as he takes in the sight of your naked body spread before him.

“Holder”, you moan.

“What?”

“Stop. Talking.”

He drops to his knees and spreads your legs. “Yes ma’am.”

You have to admit that having Holder’s face buried between your thighs is certainly one way to keep him quiet, but when his tongue sweeps along your core all sensible thoughts vanish and you are the one splintering the silence. You whimper and whine and writhe, clutching desperately at the sheets with one hand. The indecent sounds spilling from your mouth only serve to encourage him. He throws a hand over your hips, pinning you to the bed as he laps along your folds.

For the first time since you can remember your mind is a blank canvas, no longer needling over every minor detail of every single case. Your thoughts are reformed, the only thing that matters now is the long, languid strokes of his tongue and the way he dips two fingers inside you, crooking them against that sweet, sweet spot.

He’s pulling you apart at the seams and it’s ecstasy, but you need to be closer, need to touch him. “Fuck me, Holder.” You plead with him, reaching between your legs and sliding your fingers through his hair.

He pauses his ministrations, just long enough to respond. “Not until you come for me.” And then, with renewed fervor, he continues. All those times he told you he could make you feel good, and this is what you were missing out on? If you weren’t so blissfully wrecked by what he’s currently doing with his mouth, you might laugh.

Slowly but surely, your climax approaches. That familiar fluttering sensation in your belly increasing in strength until you are singing his name, begging for release. Fisting the sheets and wrapping your legs tightly around him, you shatter completely, crying out his name as you ride the crest of your relief.

“Now I’m gonna fuck you.”

Pulling himself away from the apex of your thighs, Holder hastily sheds his jeans and boxers. Waves of bliss continue to engulf you as you watch him strip. As you watch him crawl onto the bed and hover over your body, still so careful not to crush your arm.

“You ready for this?” He stares down at you, that serious expression returning.

You nod once, twice, three times, terrified to admit to him - to admit to yourself - just how much you want this.

The lopsided grin returns and then he’s pushing into you, sinking inside you, filling you, stretching you so exquisitely and as the two of you become one, you understand with crystal clarity there’s no coming back from this. You’ll never be able to return to the way things were before. It should scare you. Why doesn’t it scare you?

Free of any doubt, of any hesitation, you hook your legs around his waist and cant your hips up to meet this thrusts. Distantly you can feel your ribs protesting but – oh, God! - the pleasure is more than worth the pain. “Oh fuck, Holder. Yes!” You cry out as he slams into you again and again and -

“Oh shit.”

You feel him tensing above you and your eyes flash open instantly. “What’s wrong?” you pant, your heart pounding furiously and your pulse ringing in your ears.

“Nothin’”, he insists. “S’fine.” But his thrusts become shallow; his breathing laboured.

“Holder?”

“Aw fuck, babe”, he yelps. “I’m gonna-” His hips stutter. “Fuck.”

And just like that, it’s over.

Still buried inside you, his head is hanging low so you can’t see his face, but you just know he’s embarrassed. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t disappointed too. If - after all his bragging and swagger- you weren’t expecting a bit…more?

You manage to push up onto one elbow and nuzzle your head against him. “Holder, it’s ok.”

“Oh god, don’t fuckin’ pity me.” He whines, finally raising his head to look at you. “Anythin’ but fuckin’ pity.”

“I’m not, I’m sorry.” You bite your lip as he pulls out of you, looking so deflated. You don’t know whether to laugh or console him. “Look, it’s probably for the best.” It’s a poor attempt to reassure him, but you don’t know what else to say. “I might have concussion, remember? Don’t want to over-do it.”

That seems to appease him somewhat and his fingers ghost over your forehead, scanning you for any sign of hurt. You sink back onto the bed with a faint smile and reach for him, your fingers curling around his shoulder, drawing him back down into a soft kiss.

Eventually he pulls away, apparently satisfied that you’re not hurt, not mad and not completely disappointed.

“Anyway.” You turn your head to face him as he shifts onto his side and lays down beside you. “I’m sure you’re gonna make up for it next time.”

“Next time?” He cocks an eyebrow, the defeat fading from his expression.

“You heard me.”

#stephen holder #stephen holder x reader #joel kinnaman #the killing #stephen holder x you #stephen holder smut

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queenbeean · 4 years ago

Text

for better or for worse / bucky barnes

author’s note: this is my first bucky fic so bear with me please; this is my entry for @celestialbarnes 4k writing challenge; i’m sorry this is short and bad

warnings: bad writing, angst, mentions of cheating, fluff and smut MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

prompt #6 “i guess you didn’t mean it when you said for better or for worse”

taglist: @sweater-daddiesdumbdork

Bucky has never walked faster in his life. The handle of the plain brown paper bag was almost burning him. He felt as if everybody walking down the street was either staring at him or at the bag. What’s worse, he felt like every person knew what was inside the bag. His heart was beating faster. You were going to kill him. Maybe worse, he feared you were going to freak out, feel violated and then dump him. But on the other hand, he promised you he’d do this. Well, only part of it.

“Fuck.” He whispered. Or he thought he did. When he felt three people turning their heads to him, he pulled his cap down and walked faster to your shared apartment. Once he closed the door, he finally allowed himself to breathe. Leaning over the door, he took his cap and ran his fingers to his now shorter and quite sweaty hair.

“Why are you all flushed? And what’s in the bag?” Before Bucky could register Sam’s voice, he drew his knife out and threw it at where he heard him. Sam was quick to react and moved his head in the nick of time.

“What the hell, Sam?” Bucky walked up to the wall where the knife was now stuck. That was going to be hard to explain to you. “How did you get in?”

“Did you also shop for lingerie back in the thirties?” Sam’s voice was overshadow by the sound of wrinkling tissue paper.

Bucky almost flew and ripped the bag from Sam’s hand, ripping the bag in the process and making the contents of the bag explode in every direction. “That’s none of your business. Now you need to go.” He said as he pushed his business partner out the door.

Before he could close it, Sam stopped him. “Listen, I wouldn’t have peeked if I knew those were going to be in there. It was payback from that time I got donuts for my nephews.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Say hi to Y/N for me.” Sam said as he walked to the elevator.

For the second time, Bucky leaned against the door. He knew it wasn’t a good idea to go shopping for underwear. But he had promised you to replace the thong he ripped from your body. The memory of your small moans against his neck as you two tried new things flooded his mind. The two of you have never tried quickies in forbidden places but he couldn’t bear the thought of not talking to each other anymore. Which was the other reason why he decided to buy you one or maybe four more lingerie sets. The very same sets that were now thrown everywhere.

As he picked them up, he could only imagine how you would look in them. That image and the memory of the last time you two made love made his pants considerably tighter but you wouldn’t be home for another six hours. Maybe he could wait for you. Prepare dinner and wrap his presents for you.

Who was he kidding? The smallest thought of you had him craving you hard. And since he couldn’t have you right now, he was left with one thing to do.

Six hours later, you closed the door behind you and dropped your stuff, your keys getting caught with your scarf that also fell. “Shit.” You whispered under your breath. As you bent down to pick them up, something from underneath the couch caught your attention. “What the hell?” Your finger was almost burning as the little piece of fabric hung from it. It was a pastel blue and lace and there wasn’t almost any fabric to it. What was worse, it wasn’t yours.

I swear to God, if he cheated on me...

The opening of the door, awoke Bucky from his nap. “Hi, doll.” His smile almost made you forget about the incriminatory thong. The anger in your eyes made him sober up and sit up. “Doll?”

“Don’t call me that, James. What the fuck is this?!” You threw the fabric to his face. As soon as he took it from his face, his eyes widened. “I guess you didn’t mean it when you said for better or for worse.”

“Doll? Doll, it’s not what it looks like!” He yelled after you and almost caught you but you shut the bathroom door on his face. The first wave of shock simmered down and the reality of the situation caught up to you. He didn’t deny it but the look on his face was an answer, right? What if he didn’t? But what if he did? Oh, God, you almost threw up at the thought...

You were snapped out of it when the door was opened — or rather ripped off its hinges quite easily. Curse his vibranium arm, you thought.

“Did you cheat on me?”

“No.” Bucky said as he came closer to you. “No, I didn’t. I would never.” His hands cupped your cheeks and his thumbs wiped away the few tears that came out. The look on your face broke his heart. He hates that he wasn’t careful enough with his present for you. And more importantly, that yesterday’s fight led to you not trusting him anymore.

“Whose thong is that then?” You sniffled.

Bucky smiled slightly at you. He took your hand and led you to the kitchen pantry where he kept your present for the time being. He rummaged through the contents of the gift bag and pulled out the exact same panties he ripped off you. “Remember yesterday when I promised I’d buy you another?” You nodded and felt embarrassment fill you. “I might have gotten carried away and bought some sets I think you might like but I can always return them if you don’t like them, well except for the blue one because the tag is ripped off. I’m going to make Sam pay me back if you don’t like that one-”

You cut him off by pulling him down to your height and kissing him. His beard was slightly scratching you but you didn’t care. He went through all the trouble and bought you stuff the both of you might enjoy. The thought of this hundred-year-old man going out and do something like that made you feel so stupid but so incredibly loved and special.

“I’m sorry I doubted you.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Bucky said as he lifted you. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he led the two of you to the couch. “I can see how this could be misinterpreted.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“Well I’m sure you can make it up to me.” Bucky smirked as he laid back on the couch, leaving you straddling his hips. “If you want to of course.”

You placed a finger on his mouth. “How can I not want to when you are the sweetest old man? Wait, that didn’t sound as sexy as I hoped.”

Bucky chuckled, placing his hands underneath your shirt and rubbing circles on your hips. “Good thing I know what you mean... and that I don’t look my age.”You frowned and crossed your arms. “I’m kidding, doll.” His palms moved to your back and pulled you to him, your lips meeting his as soon as you were close enough.

“Bucky.” You moaned against his lips, his kiss leaving you breathless and wanting more. “Bucky, please.”

“What do you need, doll?”

“I need you...” You moaned again as his lips kissed underneath your jaw. “Make love to me please.”

“Gladly, doll.” His hands took the hem of your shirt and pulled it off you. Your hands were quick to unclasp your bra and throw it on the floor.

Both of your hands bumped into each other as you tried to unbutton each other’s jeans. “You do yours and I’ll do mine.” You stood up to take off yours along with your pants and he wriggled until he got them off, his boxers included. Once more, you straddled his hips and bent down to kiss him again.

“Ouch.”

“Are you okay?” Bucky asked you as he examined your face, trying to figure out what was wrong.

“Something poked me.”

Bucky chuckled. “I guess I’m a little excited.”

You rolled your eyes. “It wasn’t you.” You moved your hand in between your bodies and pulled out a... tag? “James Buchanan Barnes, did you spent seventy dollars on me? Wait, no, you got more stuff. How much did you spend on me?”

“It was my pleasure, doll. Just like it’s my pleasure to do this.” He repeated his actions from before and pulled you down but this time, his lips took one of your nipples into his mouth, kissing it and licking it as his vibranium arm played with the other bud, instantly erecting it with the cold metal.

“Bucky.” You moaned again as you bucked your hips against his, his hard cock rubbing your clit.

“Wrap your cunt around me, doll.” He said as he switched his lips to your other breast.

Blindly, you positioned yourself and slowly sank down onto him. Your hands gripped his shoulders hard at the delicious stretch but he didn’t complain. “Bucky, fuck! Bucky, Bucky!” You moaned out loud as you were filled completely by him.

“That’s it, doll. You feel so good, so tight, so warm.” Bucky never thought he’d be able to enjoy this level of pleasure and he never did until he met you.

You started off by moving your hips lazily, still feeling the stretch from his big cock. As the pleasure built, you sat up straight and placed your hands on his chest. You needed something to support yourself as Bucky decided you were ready to bounce on him. He gripped your hips and helped you move up and down, leaving you breathless.

“Y-you are s-so big, Bucky.” You breathed out as you tried to match the buck of his hips.

“And you are squeezing me too much, sweetheart. I’m close.” Bucky grunted out and took your hands in his.

You opened your eyes and looked at him as your bouncing slowed down. He looked beautiful underneath you, his eyes shut and always the gentleman, he held it in so you could come first. Not that he’d need time to recover, he was a super soldier after all but it was the thought that counted. But you wanted him to enjoy the ride so you started...

“Y/N, no.” Bucky said in between moans. “Doll...”

Your voice was breathless as you started spelling his name. “Just relax, Bucky and fill me up.” As soon as you said those words, he pinned your hands behind your back and brought you down to him.

With a short margin, he was able to drill into you for what felt like forever and even after you were squeezing him for all he was worth, he didn’t let up until the amount of Bucky coming out of your mouth decreased considerably and also when he felt your juices combined with his were running down both your legs.

With shaky legs, you tried and sat up. Your walls still throbbing around his cock. “Let’s stay like this for a bit and then we can take a bath.” Bucky suggested, voice still breathless.

“Okay.” You whispered as you rested your cheek on his chest. “By the way, how did you know what store to go to?”

“How could I not know, doll? I love you and I know what makes you happy.” Bucky felt how you tensed at his words. “What is it?”

“I still feel bad for not trusting you.”

Bucky brought his hand to brush your hair in comfort. “Don’t apologize, love. If it had been the other way around, I’d probably have thought the same.” He whispered and kissed the top of your head. “And I meant what I said yesterday, for better or for worse. Life will take weird turns but we are going to get through them together. It’s you and me.”

“Who would’ve thought Sergeant Barnes could be so soft?” You teased him but knew he meant it.

“Maybe you could model the lingerie for your Sergeant?”

“Way to ruin the moment, James.”

“You love me.”

“I do love you, Bucky. For better and for worse.”

#bucky barnes #mine #grown up talk #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader

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127-mile · 3 years ago

Text

Let’s pretend we’re in love.

Pairing: Doyoung x gender neutral reader.

Genre: Fake dating, unrequited love, bff to strangers | Angst.

Warnings: strong language.

Plot: Doyoung is beautiful, he is also kind, attentive, affectionate, smart and funny. He is charismatic, and well-spoken. His voice could be mistaken with that of an angel, whether he is speaking, or singing. Doyoung is everyone's dream, the one person you would never hesitate to introduce to your parent. Doyoung is also...mean. Doyoung has the face and the voice of an angel, in the body of a demon.

Doyoung tells his mother he is dating you after lying about his relationship. Doyoung knows about your feelings, but he doesn’t care.

Word count: +4.2k.

A/n: this is part of the Mad about the boy collab hosted by @slightlymore.

Doyoung is beautiful, he is also kind, attentive, affectionate, smart and funny. He is charismatic, and well-spoken. His voice could be mistaken with that one of an angel, whether he is speaking, or singing. Doyoung is everyone's dream, the one person you would never hesitate to introduce to your parents. Doyoung is also..

"Y/n are you listening to me?" you are pulled away from your thoughts when Doyoung nudges you. He has been talking for over five minutes now, but all you could think about was how perfect he is. Yes, you saw his lips move, but you did not hear a sound that come out of his mouth. Now that you think about it, Doyoung does have pretty lips, and you wonder how it would feel to kiss him.

"Oh, what is wrong with you today?" he stops and grabs your wrist when you are about to run into a pole. "Are you alright? Are you sick? Do you need me to drive you back home? I can call my parents, and tell them I'll be late, it's fine. You look awfully lost today." you have a long sigh, why is he like this, always so caring.

"I'm fine Doyoung, don't worry about me, I guess I'm just a bit tired." you answer, and he does not look convinced but he shrugs. "Are you sure? My parents will not be mad if you decide to skip dinner." you shake your head as you start walking again, pulling Doyoung with you as he was still holding your wrist. "It's fine. What were you saying?"

"I was talking about my parents, and the reason they invited us." well, technically, they invited Doyoung to eat with them, but Doyoung answered one of your calls, and upon hearing your name, his parents decided to invite you too. A free meal in a nice restaurant is always pleasant, so you had to say yes. Maybe you shouldn't have, with how hard it is for you to focus on anything else than Doyoung's face.

"This weekend is the weekend where the whole family gets together in our grandparents' country house. I told them I would not come because of work, so they are going to try and convince me to join them." this time, you are the one stopping in your tracks. "If you knew what they were going to talk about, why did pretty much beg me to come? I do not want to be in the middle of an argument with your parents."

You met Doyoung when him and his family moved in the neighoroud, you were still young, so you have known each other for a very long time, and he got into the habit of having you by his side during arguments, because you are what he calls a neutral zone, or whatever is reasoning is. "Oh come on, you know they can't refuse me anything when you are here!"

"Doyoung, you are 25 year old! You should know how to settle an argument with your parents, you should know how to make them listen to you and accept whatever you have to say." he tilts his head to the side, and his eyes meet yours. It's enough for your heart to skip a beat, or two. Stupid heart. "Please?"

"Why don't you want to go by the way? The house is really cool, there is a lake, and your family is really sweet. Don't you miss them?" he looks around, and he notices how close he is from the restaurant. If he tries hard enough, he is pretty sure he can see his parents near a bay window, laughing together. "Because, I may have told my mother I had a partner, and she expects me to bring them."

"You are a dumbass, Kim Doyoung." you say in a sigh. "Why would you tell her that? If you do not have time to brush your hair, you definitely do not have time to date someone." he looks offended, but then he remembers the mess on his head, and he decides to stay quiet on the subject. "I don't know! My mom's been on my back about finding someone for months now, I guess I got tired of hearing her and I decided to lie."

"Why don't you find someone? Don't you have a cute coworker you wanted to ask on a date once? Ask them to play your partner." you hate how bright his smile becomes when you mention said coworker. You try not to think about what they have, that you do not have. This is not the time to mope. You'll cry about it later. "That's a great idea! You are the best."

Yes, yes, you are.

Doyoung crosses the road, and he pushes open the door to the restaurant. "After you." he says, and you step inside, smiling at the sudden warmth that invades your body. "Good evening, do you have a reservation?" the young man asks, and Doyoung nods. "My parents are waiting for us, they made a reservation under the name of Kim."

"Yes!" he exclaims, and he walks you to the table. The couple stands up when they see you, and you let Doyoung's mother embrace you for a second. "Y/n, it's been a while, how are you doing sweetheart?" she asks, and you sit down in front of her. "I am doing just fine, how are you?"

"Same old, same old." she starts, head tilted to the side. "we are trying to organize the family weekend, and as usual, it's stressful." you understand. You participated in a few of these gathering, and you know how stressfull everything is. You never regretted anything more than the time you offered to help.

"Yes, Doyoung told me, I'm sure it's going to be amazing, and you'll have a wonderful time with your family." the woman smiles warmly, and she puts her hand on Doyoung's. "Tell me baby, did you ask your partner to come with you?" you nibble on your lower lip, you are excited to hear his arguments.

"Mom, I told you, I have too much work, I can't come." she shakes her head, and you share a look with his father. He knows he is lying, but he keeps his mouth shut, he knows better than to intervene. "Come on Doyoung, don't be silly, I'm sure whatever you have to do can wait for the weekend to be over."

Before he can open his mouth, she raises her hand to shut him up. "I have an idea. Why don't you take your work with you, and I'll give you a couple of hours to work in your grandfather's office, how does that sound?" Doyoung's mother is tenacious, she knows what she wants, and she is ready to do everything in order to get it.

"You know, my darling, that I'm not getting younger by the day, and my dream is to meet the person who makes you so so happy." oh, she went there, you think. Doyoung looks at you, and you smirk, you are not going to help him. "I have something to tell you first."

"I'm listening." but before Doyoung can say anything, the waitress gives you the menu, and comes back to take the orders. And when she leaves, Doyoung's mother prompts him to speak. "Go on, my love, is something wrong?"

"Everything is fine, mother." he plays with his fingers, and you wonder what he is going to say. His mouth opens, and closes for a second, you wonder if he said anything, or if you blacked out because of what he said. All you hear is his mother squeal with delight, and when you look up, she is absolutely beaming.

"Oh my god! I told you it would happen eventually!" she says, hitting her husband on the shoulder. "You did say that." he mumbles, rubbing the aching spot. "I am so happy! And the family loves you, they are going to be thrilled to hear that!"

The rest of the dinner is a blur, you hear and say things, but your brain can't quite process whatever is happening. You must look odd to the Kim's eyes, but you can't even find it in yourself to care.

"See you on Saturday sweetheart." Doyoung's mother says, cupping your cheeks to kiss your forehead. "Yes, Saturday."

When the car disappears from your sight, you turn on your heels to face Doyoung. At least he has the decency to look ashamed, and he doesn't say anything when you hit him in the chest. "What the fuck, Doyoung?" you yell, and he knows people are looking at the scene, even if it's already dark outside.

"I'm sorry, I panicked." he answers, and you shake your head. "Couldn't you admit that you lied, instead of luring me into your lies without asking first!" he takes your hand, and he sighs. "I know, I know. But you were there, and my mom was so excited, I don't know what happened. And look how happy she was when I said it."

"Imagine how sad she is going to be when she'll learn it was a lie, Doyoung!" he knows he should have thought before opening his mouth in the restaurant, but it was his only solution, or so you thought. "She doesn't have to know it was a lit, we can just... I don't know, break up?"

This is a bad idea, you think. For you, who have been madly in love with Doyoung ever since you were kids, it's going to hurt. Because you know Doyoung does not reciprocate your feelings, and never will, and he will play the perfect boyfriend you wish you had.

The break up is going to hurt like a bitch, even if it's fake, and yet, you open your mouth. "We are breaking up at the end of the weekend."

"We need to get the details right, when did we become official?"

Doyoung sits on the edge of the bed as you put your clothes in the dresser. "I don't know Doyoung. You are the one who brought me into this mess, so you should be the one thinking about it." he mumbles something you don't understand, and you turn on your heels to face him. "You are telling me that you did not think about the details at all?"

You did think about everything, of course you did. Not because you were excited about this situation, but because it is something you thought about a lot these past few years.

"I was busy!" he exclaims, and you sigh. "If you want it to be believable, you need to think. Right now. Because your family will be there in a few minutes." you are glad you arrived before everything else, it gives you the time to settle down, and to think about the things you could have talked about in the car.

"We can't tell them it's been a few months, because my mom will bet mad that I did not tell her sooner. So maybe two or three weeks?" you nod. "Yeah, okay. Who confessed?" Doyoung seems to think about it, and when he opens his mouth to answer, you wish you never asked the question. "You, you did it. It what you would have done if it really happened, uh?"

You do not say anything, you do not like the way he said it, like he knows something. He probably does to be honest, you are not the best at hiding your feelings.

"Kids, come say hello!" saved by the bells.

You get out of your bedroom, and you go down the stairs. A few of Doyoung's cousins just entered the house, and they smile when they see you both. "Oh, Y/n, I didn't know you would be here!" Jungwoo says and he puts you into a bone-crushing hug. "Yeah, last minute decision." you answer.

You greet the other members of the family, and before you can understand what is happening, someone grabs your hand to pull you into the living room. "Guys, you all know Y/n, right? Well, I would like to officially introduce Y/n as my partner!"

You try not to look uncomfortable when they all cooe, but you can't smile either. Doyoung is just dropping the bomb, when you thought he would tell the news to some members of the family if they ever asked about his love life. Well, you agreed to be here, so you have to go with the flow. Or rather with Doyoung's decisions.

"I never thought I would see the day where you would finally confess your feelings for our dear cousin." Jungwoo says, and you laugh but god do you want to punch him square in the face. He is the only one in the family to know about your true feelings, so with the little announcement, he feels allowed to say everything he knows.

"Yes, I was wondering if Y/n was ever going to do it. About time." Doyoung answers, and you roll your eyes, but fortunately, his mother calls everyone in the garden. She wants to celebrate the beginning of what she thinks will be a memorable weekend.

"They are gone, you can let go of my hand." you mumble, and he shakes his head. "We have to play the perfect little couple, so might as well do it fully." what is the point of playing when no one is around to see you, if not play with your heart. "You always wanted it, so don't be like that. Come on, let's not make them wait."

He leads you to the garden, and when he finally lets go of your hand to grab two glasses of wine, you feel yourself breathing again. Of course, you spent the last couple of days thinking about the weekend, and how it would turn out, but you thought it would be nice, you know, to be closer to your long-time crush, but no, it's unberable and it's been less than an hour.

"I would like to thank everyone for making the trip for the weekend, I am really glad to see you all, because I have to be honest with you, this year was not easy, and I missed each and every one of you. I am also really grateful to have Y/n with us, I always knew Y/n would be the one to make our sweet boy happy."

Doyoung looks proud, and he is beaming under the attention when you want nothing more than to burry yourself in the ground. "Thank you for accepting me." you say when you hear nothing but silence and feel way too many pairs of eyes on you. "Of course, my love. You were always part of the family, so it is even more normal to have you here with us today."

That's sweet, but what is not is the way Doyoung chuckles under his breath.

"Oh, here you are!" Jungwoo sits down next to you on the couch, and he puts his head on your shoulder. "I've been looking for you everywhere. You know the grandfather's office is off limit?" you shrug, eyes still closed. "I don't care, I needed some alone time."

Jungwoo straightens up, and he does what he does best, he pouts. "What's going on? Are you not happy to be here with us?" you heave a long sigh, opening your eyes to look at him. "I am. I'm always happy to see all of you, especially you Woo, but I don't know. I guess it's overwhelming this time."

"I bet it is. Everyone is all over you, asking you questions. I would dip too if I were you." he answers, and you stay quiet for a couple of minutes. "You and Doyoung, it's an hoax right?" you do not know if you like or hate the fact that Jungwoo is always quick to catch on. "It's that obvious?"

"Not really," he starts, standing up to stretch his long legs. "but you've been in love with him for ever, so seeing you here, when you should be glued to him is weird." that's definitely what you would be doing if Doyoung was not acting so.. you do not even know how to describe it. "I don't know Woo, Doyoung has been acting weird since we arrived."

"What do you mean?" you take the time to think about it, because Jungwoo is still Doyoung's cousin, and you do not want to upset him. "He is the one who told his parents that we were dating, without asking me first, and yet, he is acting like an asshole."

"He throws little comments about my feelings, my real feelings, each chance he gets, and every time, he has that nasty smile on his face." you explain, and Jungwoo hums. "I know it's been only a few hours, and he is probably acting out of nervousness, but it's like.. did he just trick me into coming here just to humiliate me in front of everyone?"

You expect Jungwoo to tell you that you are wrong, that you are imagining everything, but no. "I would not be surprise, to be honest with you." you narrow your eyes, and you don't know what to expect now. "We went on vacation last year, remember? And there, he met this person. It was obvious that they caught feelings for him, and he just played with them."

"He is not stupid, and he understood pretty quickly, but instead of being flattered or to let them down gently, he just decided to be an asshole about it." if Doyoung was not acting like that today, you would never have believed a word of what he said. This is not the Doyoung you know. "But why would he do that? He is not like that on the daily."

"Everyone things he is perfect, but I guess perfection does not extist, and he is the proof." you don't really know how to feel right now. You want to leave, because you are mad. You are mad at yourself, and you are mad at him. "But why me? I'm here to help him, and I'm his best friend, not some kind of summer fling. I never did anything to wrong him or anything, I don't understand."

"I wish I knew Y/n." he answers, putting his hand on your shoulder. "I know how much you love him, and I am sorry he is playing with you." you sigh, you are at loss for words right now. You want to leave but you can't, not this early. Maybe you can find an excuse to leave? No, you can't. Doyoung is the one who drove you here.

"Keep me from hurting him if he decides to act up again today." you say, and Jungwoo nods with a smile. "You know, I am not that strong, so if I can't hold you for long enough, and that you end up actually hurting him, I'm sorry." he winds, and he opens the door to let your out first.

"Well, that was a nice day!" Doyoung says as he lets himself fall on the bed. You have to move your arm to avoid it being stuck under his body. "Good for you." you answer, and he turns on his side to look at you, frowning. "Is something wrong?"

"Are you really asking me that?" you don't know if you should tell him everything you have in mind, or keep quiet and wait until you leave, but you are not sure you can hold for another day. All you know is that you don't want to snap in front of the entire family.

"I have a question, why are you such an asshole with me?" he straightens up, back against the bedframe and he crosses his arms against his chest. "What are you talking about? Wa barely talked today!" you scoff. "And for a reason. Every time we talked, you just made me look like an idiot."

"Why are you doing this? What was the point of asking me to come, if you were planning on being mean?" he bites the inside of his cheek. If you try to remain calm, it seems hard for him too. He has a lot to say, but everyone is asleep, and he knows how quick he gets angry, and he doesn't want anyone to eavesdrop.

"So we are really doing this, uh?" you don't know what he is referring to, but you nod either way. "I'm tired Y/n. I'm tired of you being in love with me." well, that's not what you were expecting, but you are not surprised, if this taught you anything is that you can't expect anything when it comes to Doyoung anymore.

"Hear me out. I know you love me, I always knew, and the attention is nice, but I never mentionned it because you are my best friend, and I never wanted our relationship to change. But I met someone." oh.

"It's my coworker, the one I wanted to ask of a date. Well, I did, last year, and we've been dating ever since. But they can't stand the way you look at me, and it weight a lot on our relationship." you shake your head. "Then why did you bring me? Why didn't you introduce them to your parents instead?"

"How do I say that.. I needed a reason for you to hate me. Not as your friend, but as a potential lover. I needed something to calm your feelings, because as much as I love you, as a friend, my relationship with them is way more important." it feels like someone is squeezing your heart, and you wouldn't be surprised if it came out of your ribcage, in pieces.

"They hate how you look at me, and I understand, I am to the point where I hate it too." you open your eyes wide, and you look up. You refuse to cry. Not in front of Doyoung, he does not deserve it. "So your only option was to break my heart, in front of your entire family? You could have told me the truth, I would have understood you know, I might be in love with you, but I am not stupid!"

"You say you love me as a friend, and yet, you are doing this. You decided to play with my heart to hurt me. And for what?" your voice is shaking, and it sounds a lot like a sob that escapes your pressed lips. "I'm sorry." he whispers, and you laugh as you get out of bed.

"You are not sorry, Doyoung. This is not your first time doing something like this. Is this what gets you going? Breaking people's hearts? Are you planning on doing the same with your current partner?" he shakes his head, and of course, he would never do something like that. Sweet sweet Doyoung.

"You know what? You don't have to worry about me looking at you some type of way, because starting from tomorrow, you will not have to see me again. It'll be so much easier for you." you grab your suitcase, and you stuff your clothes inside. "What are you doing?" Doyoung stands up and he follows you every move.

"I'm going to sleep on the couch, and I'll go home first thing in the morning. Don't worry about driving me back, you can stay here, enjoy and explain to your mother why she will never see me again. Maybe you should also tell her why her son is such a fucking asshole, I'm sure she's going to love it."

"Come on, don't be like that." he says in a sigh, and you open the bedroom door. "Don't be like what? Don't be like a fucking human being with feelings? Well I'm sorry, but I am!" if the family was not around you, you would have sloed the door hard enough for the sound to echoes against the walls, but instead, you close it softly.

Doyoung is beautiful, he is also kind, attentive, affectionate, smart and funny. He is charismatic, and well-spoken. His voice could be mistaken with that of an angel, whether he is speaking or singing. Doyoung is everyone's dream, the one person you would never hesitate to introduce to your parents. Doyoung is also mean.

Doyoung has the face and the voice of an angel, in the body of a demon.

So yes, you are mad about the boy, but you are also mad about yourself.

#nct #nct imagines #nct scenarios #doyoung imagines #doyoung scenarios

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jaceyneedsabetterusername · 4 years ago

Text

Lavender Lace (Part 2)

Pairing: Tom Holland x F!Reader

Summary: When Tom calls you mean, you decide to show him what mean really looks like. (Part 2 to Lavender Lace)

Warnings: SMUT!!!! (Edging, Ruined Orgasm, Dom!Reader, Sub!Tom, Oral - m and f receiving, smidge of somnophilia, smidge of exhibitionism), Cursing, Honestly, the dom! is pretty soft

Word Count: 4400

Requested by @hollandlover19

_______________________

It was a rare occasion that you and Tom both had the same day off but when such an occasion arose, the two of you made sure to take full advantage of it. And, oh boy, were you two making today a special occasion.

You’d woken up before Tom on this particular morning to find the sunlight already streaming in through the thin curtains and your beautiful boyfriend lying beside you looking as if he was sculpted from fucking marble. His brown curls were barely curls in the morning, more just a messy pile of once twisted tendrils that now just stuck up all unruly against the pillow. His eyes were still shut, his bare chest falling and rising with each heavy breath. The blankets covered most of his torso but the covers didn’t do much to hide the unintentional issue that all men had to deal with from time to time.

A smirk spread across your face as you looked down at the tent beneath the sheets and then back at your boyfriend still deep asleep when an idea occurred to you. You shifted up onto your elbow and shifted a little closer to him, before kissing his bare chest, marking each freckle with your lips as you made your way up his neck and then eventually along his jawline.

Tom shifted slightly when your finger lightly traced their way down his abs that weren’t as defined as they were when he was actively filming but you didn’t care. This man could never stop being handsome in your eyes. Your fingers reached the hem of his boxers, already straining with the pressure of his morning wood. With featherlight touches, you traced the length of his erection with your finger tips, over the head, and then back down along the underside of his shaft.

The quietest little moan fell from his lips and you looked back up at him, biting your lip and determined to hear more of that sweet sound. You brought your hand back up to your mouth and spit into your palm before snaking it back down under the covers and beneath the elastic of the waistband. Your hand moved smoothly along his length and while you did so, your lips returned to his body. Tom's chest shook when his breathing hitched, clearly getting flustered, even in his sleep.

You increased the pressure ever so slightly on his length, twisting your wrist around the head, when you kiss his jaw line. Another small breathy moan tumbles from his perfect lips and press yours against his gently, swallowing the sound. When you pulled away, kissing back down his neck, you heard a hoarse chuckle, “G’morning, love.”

You smiled against his smooth neck, breathing him in. “Good morning, Tommy.”

“Starting the day off well, I see?” He asks, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes but finding it difficult to keep them open through the pleasure. He sighs out in bliss when you focus more attention on the head.

A chuckle leaves your lips when you go to kiss him yet again. “Thought you could use some TLC on your day off.” You sped up your pace and you could tell by the groans he was making that he was getting close already, “Is this okay?”

“Oh, it’s more than okay, darling.” He grunted out with a smile, “‘M already so close.”

“Yeah? Tell me when…” You cooed into his ear, biting the soft flesh.

The pace you had set on his length was not fast but the pressure was enough to make him fall apart quickly. Partners were like bombs, you realized, and much of a relationship was learning what made them tick and what made them blow. Tom had a few triggers for each that you had every intention of taking full advantage of today, should he be willing to play along with your little game.

He twitched in your hand and his fingers knotted themselves into the pillow beside his head. “Shit… I’m gonna-”

Then your hand was gone. Tom groaned, his hips bucking up into sheets, chasing your touch. “Fucking hell!” He whined, head falling back harshly into the pillow, “You’re not usually this mean first thing in the morning.”

A single testing eyebrow raised when you leaned back, “‘Mean?’ Tread lightly, love. I had an idea for today, if you’re up for it, but I could always make it more torturous if you’re going to keep that tone.”

The dominance in your voice was clear to Tom and gosh was it turning him on. “Heard we had a day off together and already had something planned?” He teased you, moving to sit up a little higher on the pillows. You crawled over his body until you were straddling his hips, his hard cock rubbing against your thin flannel pajama bottoms. He hissed when your hips rolled teasingly, one of his hands gripping your hip to keep you from moving - he was still trying to calm down - and the other bending to cradle his own head. You put your hands on the bed on either side of his body, trapping him in a trap he had no yearning to escape. “What did you have in mind, love?”

You chewed your lip and looked up at him through long lashes, giving him a sultry dark look, “Ohhh, well I was thinking trying to beat your record and edge you fifteen times but since you were calling me names earlier, I think I’ll make it twenty.”

“What?! I barely made it to ten last time!” Tom’s eyes were wide with panic but he quickly remembered his place when you gave him a sharp look.

“What was that? Twenty-five for talking back?” You asked, almost in the tone a teacher would chide a student with.

Tom’s whole body tensed up and he moved to embrace you in a panicked show of affection to remedy his misstep, “No! I’m sorry! Twenty is fine. I’ll make it to twenty!”

You allowed him to pull your body down towards his just enough so your chest rested against his but you still looked up so you were eye to eye with the man, “That’s what I thought. Now don’t worry, I’m not totally… What did you call me? Mean? I won’t make you do all twenty at once. I’ll stretch them throughout the day. But a few rules: One, no touching yourself unless I say you can. Two, you must touch yourself when I tell you to. Three, no cumming before I say you can. Failure to follow these rules will result in punishment. Understand?”

“Yes.” His voice was nearly a whimper. The way you made this boy fall apart should have made him embarrassed but he would trade all his pride if it meant he got to keep you for the rest of his life. The man was utterly in love with you and you were incandescently in love with him as well.

You gave him a satisfied smile, “Good. That’s one down.” You rolled out of bed and stretched as if you hadn’t just promised him a day of sexual torture, “What do you want for breakfast? I’m starving.”

Tom knew from the start he was going to have a hard time with this but he was hoping spreading out the twenty edges over the day would make it bearable. How wrong he was. You either allowed him to touch himself or touched him yourself about every half hour, just to make sure he stayed achingly hard, just the way you wanted him. It was in those gaps, though, that he’d hoped to find solace, only for you to “accidentally” bump into his member with your perfect ass, which was barely concealed in the short lounge shorts you’d decided to hang around the house in today.

The first few times were easy. Obviously, the first edge was when you had woken him up with your hand pumping him almost to completion. The second was when you let him jerk himself off in the shower just after breakfast while you ran your hands over every inch of his body. You gave him a handjob when the pair of you were fresh out of the shower before he even had a chance to put his joggers on. The next seven were a combination of you touching him and you allowing him to touch himself over the next few hours.

On the eleventh, you had decided to up the ante and have a little more fun with it. He sat on the couch, playing Call of Duty with Harry, Sam, and Haz all on the same server, speaking to him through his headset. Video games were Tom’s desperate attempt at distracting himself from the painful ache in his trousers but you weren’t going to let him get off that easy (no pun intended).

When you came into the living room, standing just to the side of the television so he could still see the game but also see you, his eyes flicked back and forth between you and the screen, trying to ensure you knew he was acknowledging you while also not losing his lead on his brothers. His face fell when you didn’t say anything, only had that look in your eye again. With pleading eyes, he gestured to the controller in his hand.

“Keep playing. Don’t mind me.” You whispered, waving towards the controller in his head nonchalantly. Tom gave you a skeptical look, knowing you were up to something but he resumed the game as you said he could.

Staying in your same spot, just beside the television, you grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it up and over your head, revealing your bare breasts. Tom’s mouth fell open, having a hard time concentrating on the shouts and gunfire coming from the game when a literal goddess was stripping for him in his living room. “Keep playing. Don’t want to leave your brothers hanging.” You urged, nodding towards the TV.

Hesitantly, Tom returned to the game, not nearly as invested in the stats on the screen as he was a few moments ago. He watched out of the corner of his eye as your shorts and panties slid down your legs in one motion, leaving you completely bare before him. You padded towards him, putting your knees on the couch to either side of his hips, straddling him.

Tom leaned back and gave you a look of panic when you reached down to gently pull his hard length from his joggers. His hands pulled back, the game forgotten but you released him, his hard length practically sticking straight up against his stomach. You reached for his hands and laced them behind your back, leaning forward so you were mostly positioned against his chest. Tom could still see the screen over your shoulder, both hands resting on the controller but he was no longer aggressively slamming the buttons.

When your hands returned to guide his cock to your soaked entrance, his eyes blew wide and he pointed to the headset with pleading eyes. Your mouth fell open as you sank down on his length, a choked sound falling from Tom’s lips at the sudden warmth. This was the first time he’d been inside you all day and he was already so sensitive that it drove him crazy.

After you had a moment to compose yourself, you pulled aside one of the ear pads and allowed your lips to brush his ear, “Better not let them hear you, Tommy. Imagine what they’d say if they found out you liked this… being brought to the brink of tears, being absolutely ruined.”

Tom’s mouth fell open when you began to move agonizingly slow up and down on him, your walls squeezing around his length every time you moved up. Tom was usually a fairly vocal guy in bed, almost always making a sound, whether it be begging you, praising you, telling you how much he loved you, or just little moans and groans. This was torture for him and you knew it.

You swivelled your hips, having to bite back your own moan when you managed to hit that spot deep inside you that made you see stars. Having finally found that spot within yourself, you made sure to keep repeating that same motion until your toes were curling. Your breasts rubbed deliciously against Tom’s chest and you found your own high approaching rapidly.

You pulled one of Tom’s ear pads aside again and breathed out, “I’m gonna cum, Tommy.” It wasn’t a whine of desperation, it was a declaration of power. A statement of what you were able to do and he wasn’t.

The muscles in his neck flexed as he swallowed hard, finding himself close as well. He had been so hard this entire time, he was surprised he had managed to go this long without nearing that edge but it was catching up to him rapidly. After only a few more bounces on him, you unravelled around him, clutching onto his shoulders tightly.

You pulsed around him, riding out your high with a silent scream, hating that you were also punishing yourself with having to stay silent to keep the boys from knowing what you were doing as well. Tom let out a strangled groan when he felt himself about to fall over that edge. He let go of the controller and tapped your ass repeatedly, trying to pry you off of him so he wouldn’t cum without your permission. Broken sounds fell from his lips so quiet you could barely hear it but you raised your brow, clamping your hand over his mouth so he would stay quiet. Finally, you slowed to a stop, telling by the intensity with which he tried to pull you off of his length that was going to fall over that edge if you continued.

“‘Ey, Tom? You good mate?” You could hear Haz’s voice ask with a chuckle through the headset, followed by a few exclamations of frustration as you assumed he was shot in the game.

Slowly, you removed your hand from Tom’s mouth and allowed him to answer, “Yeah, erm, yeah. I’m good.” His first attempt at speaking had come out almost more as the squeak of a thirteen year old boy but he cleared his throat and was able to sound more convincing.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you...”

“F-fourteen! I said fourteen.” Tom gritted out, body covered in sweat as his back arched off the bed.

You sat off to one side of him but leaned over his legs, your free hand running up and down his thighs that were tensing beneath your touch. “Only six more, Tommy. You’re doing so good.”

He shook his head, “I’m not gonna make it to twenty.” He was nearly in tears, cock moving on its own free will at this point, flexing against his abs.

You cooed, “Ohhh but you’re gonna have to.” Tom’s biceps flexed as he pulled against the handcuffs you had him restrained to the headboard with. “I’ll make them quick,” You reassured with a smile, a smile that Tom found anything but reassuring.

You leaned down and took him into your mouth, humming with satisfaction at the cry he let out, only making him struggle more. You hollowed your cheeks and swirled your tongue around his head, tasting the sweet yet salty precum that had beaded up there.

“Ah, shit-” Tom struggled, biting into the back of the fleshy bit of his hand to try and ground himself. He wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take. He had warned you this morning that twenty was most likely an impossible goal but you just wouldn’t listen. Tom found himself desperately on the edge within less than a minute of you touching him. Maybe if he just didn’t say anything, you would keep going until he came. He could deal with whatever punishment you had in store but he just needed a release.

You watched from beneath hooded lashes at the way his eyes were screwed shut and felt the way his hips bucked up involuntarily, pushing him down your throat. His cock twitched in your mouth, the way it always did just before he-

“You naughty thing! You were going to cum weren’t you?” You sat up off of him as soon as you noticed that tell-tale sign of his.

Tom let out a literal sob and you noticed the tears falling from the corners of his eyes. “‘M sorry! I just need to cum so bad! Please!”

The tears that fell down his face did actually make you feel a little guilty but you had to remind yourself that if it really was too much for him, he knew the safe word that would make the whole act go away. Knowing yourself, if he tapped out because it got to be too much, you’d let him cum right now. Both of you knew this was really just for the fun of exploring yourselves and each other and the last thing either of you wanted was for either one of you to not be enjoying what was going on. And yet, Tom still had yet to actually say the safe word. That didn’t mean you couldn’t be a little soft on him though.

You leaned up and kissed his lips softly, fingers brushing through his messy locks, “Oh, darling, I know. There’s only five more.” Tom groaned as if five were a hundred. Suddenly, your fingers knotted in his hair just tight enough to get his attention and, just like that, your soft tone was gone and your dangerous glare was back, “But if you ever try to pull one over me like that again, I’ll make sure you won’t cum for much, much longer than I did today.”

Tom didn’t need to respond. It was written all over his face that the message had been received loud and clear. You crawled your way back down his body and began pumping his shaft again, swiping your thumb over his head to spread the liquid there along his length. You shifted yet again, moving to the position where you could roll his balls in your other hand.

“You better tell me this time.” You threatened, already seeing the signs. Besides, Tom had been so close for so long, he was at the point where any touch practically brought him to the edge.

“I’m gonna cum!”

You kept working him until his legs were squirming beneath you, only stopping when you saw he was within a second from falling over the edge. “Sixteen. Awe, you barely let me touch you that time.”

“‘M so close,” His head shook side to side, “So fuckin’ close.” With one finger, you drew small feather-light lines up and down the underside of his shaft and he was bucking his hips away from you. “No, no, no! Wait!” He begged you to stop, not calmed down enough to be able to withstand another round yet. If you kept touching him, he would surely bust in a second.

Giving him a bit of mercy, you stopped touching his length but switched to rolling his balls in your hand, stimulating him just enough without making him cum. Your own fingers trailed down between your folds and you spread the slick that had accumulated there over your hand, “See what you do to me, Tommy? You make me so so wet.”

Using your wetness as lube, you began stroking his shaft again without much warning. Tom was bucking into your hand without realizing it but you shifted your weight to sit on top of his thighs, removing his leverage to continue. “Nuh-uh,” you chided, “You made sure I couldn’t trust you earlier.”

Tom pulled hard against the handcuffs, his muscles flexing as if he was a Greek god. Your free hand went back between your legs and you rubbed yourself in slow, small circles to warm yourself up for when you’d allow yourself to cum with him as well. The tears in Tom’s eyes had since dried but his eyes were shut tight and his teeth were grit together. “I’m gonna-”

“Hold it.” You demanded, increasing the pressure slightly.

Tom shook his head, “I can’t! Shit- Fuck!” He cried as he finally came hard. A massive wave of pleasure like he’d never felt washed over him but it was quickly ruined when your hand stopped stroking him the moment you noticed him cumming.

By the time the first ribbon of white came to paint his abs, you removed your hand and watched as he tried desperately to get some sort of friction to work him through his ruined orgasm. He was crying again, an entire day’s worth of edging now ruined in an agonizingly unsatisfying orgasm. That first glimpse was an Earth-shattering orgasm that was lost as soon as your hand stopped stimulating him.

You watched with an amazement you’d only allow to show on your face when his eyes were shut as he just kept cumming and cumming. It was clear by the way his cock twitched that it was aching for more stimulation but you refused to give it to him.

“Tommy,” your voice was soft but it was laced with disappointment, “I told you you’d be punished if you couldn’t follow directions.”

“I’m sorry! I just couldn’t get the words out in time.” His chest was heaving and his voice was still whiny.

You nodded sympathetically, “I know, I know. But rules are rules, love. Maybe next time you can cum for real when you can follow instructions.” You crawled over him and clicked the release trigger on the handcuffs, slipping them off his wrists and kissing the angry red lines on them from where he’d been pulling on them. He brought his arms down, blood rushing back into the appendages.

“Now, you get to watch me get off and I don’t care if you get hard again. There’s no touching for the rest of the night.” You rolled off of him to lie on the bed beside him, your legs spreading wide and you hooked the left one over his leg. Your fingers swiped across your bundle of nerves and you clenched around nothing as you set the pace that would get you there quickly.

Tom sat up a little straighter, eyes glued to where your hand disappeared between your legs, “Can I touch you?” He asked, looking back over to your eyes.

“Why should I let you?”

“To show you just how sorry I am.” His hand came to rub your thigh in a testing show of affection. Your eyes glanced down to where his hand met your skin and then back up with a quirked brow to show him that you saw straight through his coy attempts. Just because you noticed them didn’t mean you were objected to them though and after an entire day of dripping over Tom, you thought it was only fair if you got a little something in return.

“Alright, fine. Since you asked so nicely.” Your dominating persona cracked a little when you laughed at the way he nearly pounced on you, lips aching to touch every square inch of your perfect body. First, he started at your lips, attacking them until they were plump and swollen. He worked his way down your neck and then your body, knowing every spot, every button to push just like you knew his.

By the time his mouth reached your core, your heart was already racing with arousal. His hot breath fanned over you as he took a moment to admire you, “You’re so fucking beautiful, even when you’re being mean.” He looked up from between your thighs with a cheeky grin and you reached down to playfully smack the side of his head.

“Somebody just can’t learn their lesson,” You chuckled, having dropped the dominant act. It was hard to keep up when Tom snapped out of his submissive one and turned into your cute puppy dog of a boyfriend.

The shit eating grin on his face disappeared a little lower once again and his tongue ran a long stripe up your folds. You moaned out, toying with your nipples, “Oh God….” Tom smirked against your sex, licking you again, only this time, letting the tip of his tongue slip inside of you just enough to tease. His arms wrapped around thighs when they moved against your will and he held them down. Finally, his tongue flicked at that sensitive bud you needed him to touch so badly and you let out a shaky breath when he finally found it.

“Shit,” You let out a breathless chuckle, hands threading in his hair and tugging slightly when his lips around you completely, sucking harshly on your clit. “Holy fuck!” Tom continued to do that while gently slipping a single finger inside your entrance, pumping slowly at first to warm you up. With how insanely wet you’d been all day, though, it was a warm up that was unneeded. A second finger soon joined it and he curled them up just right to hit that spot inside you that made you see sparks.

“Oh my gosh, Tom. Right there!” You whined out, one hand pulling your nipple with one hand and his hair with the other. With the arm he had wrapped around your thigh, he pressed his palm flat against the skin just above your pubic bone, making the pressure against your g-spot that much more intense.

“I’m gonna cum!” You moaned, sitting up on your elbows to watch Tom work you to your orgasm. That band in your stomach snapped and you fell back, your mouth falling open in a silent scream of pleasure as Tom slowed down until you finished squeezing around his fingers.

Tom pulled his fingers out of you and rubbed your core gently, still feeling the pulsing, radiating heat coming from it. “Are you okay?” He asked, chuckling a little at your absolutely fucked out expression.

“Where did you learn to do that?” You questioned, never having had him try pressing on you from the outside while fingering you while eating you out. It was explosive.

Tom’s cheeks were still red from earlier as he looked at you with a cautiously proud expression, “Haz had told me about it.”

You rolled your eyes and laughed, “Of course, he did.”

Tom crawled back up to kiss you on the lips, “Am I forgiven?”

You feigned a look of deep thought before sighing in “defeat”, which really just fade into a giggly kiss, “I guess so.”

#tom holland #sub!tom #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland smut #peter parker #peter parker au #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #Arvin Russell #arvin russel imagine #arvin russel #arvin russell x reader #arvin russel x reader #cherry #tdatt #The Devil All The Time #tdatt fics

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there-must-be-a-lock · 4 years ago

Text

All That I Ask

Sam x Reader

Word Count: 6990

Warnings: Smut. Smut, feels, and Sam Winchester being wonderful. There’s a brief moment of post-traumatic dissociation, but the traumatic event itself isn’t discussed or really even named. Otherwise, it’s about as gooey and sweet as a fuckin marshmallow. This is like... fix-it fic for life-canon.

A/N: Whether it was rape or coercion or just a partner who didn’t care enough to make you feel comfortable, I think almost every woman knows what it’s like to feel powerless or unsafe during sex. This is about agency and trust and hang-ups and recovery, and how partners should handle those things.

This was inspired by a request from @the-departed-patato. Thank you for trusting me with this one. I didn’t realize until I started typing that this was something I really really needed to write.

Also, major thanks to the Slack squad for edits and support and trying to curb my comma habit: @rockhoochie, @icemankazansky, @fangirlxwritesx67, @stunudo y’all are amazing.

Here’s my heart, don’t break it. It’s all that I ask, nothing more. - “Moonlight,” Future Islands

This is so stupid.

This is Sam. This is sweet, kind, gentle Sam, and I’m head over heels for him.

I want him. How could I not? I’ve wanted to do this since I met him, and now I can. He tugs his shirt over his head, and I can run my hand up his side, down his chest, tracing the ripply contours of abs, and god dammit, I want him.

He rolls me onto my back, hips slotting in against me. I can feel the drag and catch of denim, I can feel where he’s hard against the crease of my thigh, and I can feel his weight on me, holding me, pressing into me, trapping me, and I can feel myself start to shut down.

This is so stupid.

I remind myself that I’m safe. He’s being gentle, I tell myself. He’s not holding my wrists, he’s not pinning me, he’s not doing anything that should make me feel unsafe.

I’m still shutting down. I stare at a point somewhere over his shoulder as he kisses my neck, and I remind myself that I’m being stupid, and I can’t fucking breathe.

“Hey,” he whispers, and then he’s looking down at me, rolling onto his side again, and I try to focus on him but part of me is seeing someone else.

“Sorry,” I whisper, voice small and tight around the lump in my throat.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks, so fucking sweet with his sunflower eyes wide and concerned. I shake my head.

“No, it’s stupid,” I squeak. “I’m being stupid. I’m sorry, it’s not your fault, you didn’t — we can — I’m fine.”

“Do you need space, or — how can I help?”

“Don’t go,” I breathe. “Please don’t, I’m okay, just come… come here?”

“Okay, sweetheart,” he whispers, putting an arm around me, kissing my forehead. “Hey, I’m right here, okay? I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I’m right here. Take your time.”

I burrow into his chest, tears stinging my eyes as I start to break the grip of whatever cold thing has been clutching at my ribcage.

This is so fucking stupid.

I remember to breathe, and Sam waits. He strokes my hair, whispers soothing nonsense, cradles me close.

“I’m sorry,” I choke out eventually. I can’t look him in the eye; I look at his neck instead, the steady flutter of his pulse under the skin.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” he says, soft but fierce. “Nothing. You hear me?”

“‘Kay.” I swallow hard and try to shake it off. “We can — it’s not that I don’t want to. Do you want—”

“Stop,” he interrupts. “There’s no rush, okay? If you’re doing this because you think you should… for my sake? That’s not how it works.”

He curls a gentle finger under my chin, tilting my head back until I meet his eyes, and I feel hot all over at the tenderness in his expression. I blink away tears and give him a tiny nod.

“This is about the guy you told me about?” he asks, tentative. “Was it… it was more than you made it out to be, wasn’t it?”

I nod again. I don’t trust myself to make words. My heart is racing, and I can feel the panicked beat of it in my throat, choking me.

“We need to talk about this, at some point. Okay? You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to tell me, but I need to know what not to do. I don’t ever want to scare you.”

“Okay,” I whisper, feeling raw and exposed and so goddamn crazy about him.

“We don’t have to do that now, though. Just rest. You’re safe with me.”

“Good morning, gorgeous,” Sam whispers when I stir. He’s spooned up behind me, one big solid arm around my waist, and I settle myself more comfortably in the cocoon of his embrace. Then I remember.

“About last night—” I start hesitantly.

“If you’re going to try to apologize again, stop right there,” he says, and I can hear the wry smile in his voice. “But if you want to talk about it…”

We didn’t close the curtains, and the morning sun is filtering through the blinds of the motel room, making everything feel clean and bright and fresh. It’s easier like this, too, with my back to Sam. I don’t have to feel his eyes on me.

“There hasn’t been anyone else, since,” I admit. My voice sounds very small in the quiet of the room. “So… I don’t really know what causes it. Not for sure.”

Sam exhales slowly, his breath tickling the curve of my neck. “What happened last night, to set it off?”

“Having you on top of me, I think. It’s not — you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Neither did you. That’s all on him,” Sam says. The faintest hint of a growl in his voice takes me by surprise. “No blame, okay? I’m not going to take it personally. Not ever.”

“Okay. Um. Feeling… held down, or trapped. And you shouldn’t — don’t grab my wrists?”

“I can do that. What else?”

“I think… just, not too rough?” I ask, cheeks burning. “I don’t think I could handle… too much. The first time, at least.”

“Okay,” he agrees calmly. “And what else? What does work for you?”

“What do you mean?”

“This isn’t about, like, just making it manageable for you,” he says, low and earnest, kissing the curve of my neck. “I want to make you feel good.”

“Oh,” I say breathlessly. “Oh. Um.”

I’m suddenly very conscious of his hand splayed over my lower abdomen, his palm warm through the thin cotton of my tank top. He must feel the way my belly tightens, because he slides his hand a little lower, thumb tucking under the hem and stroking back and forth, tickling deliciously.

It’s such a light touch, a barely-there brush, but it’s sending sparks down my spine. I wriggle back against Sam, wondering if the sudden crackle of tension in the air is just my imagination.

“I want to know what gets you off.” Sam’s voice is husky and heated, and my breath hitches. It’s not just my imagination, then. “I want to make you come. It’s not just about�� penetration, or whatever.” He lets out a quiet huff of a laugh, and I wonder if that’s the first time someone has made the word penetration sound sexy. “Do you want me to touch you? Do you want my mouth?”

I shift, and I can feel him getting hard through his pajama pants.

“Yeah,” I whisper.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I want that. Sam… want you.”

His hand slides lower, until the tips of his pinky and ring finger are dipping under the elastic of my shorts.

“When you touch yourself,” he says quietly. “What do you do? Can you show me?”

“I don’t—”

His hand finds mine where it’s curled loosely on the mattress, slides under it so that my palm rests on the back of his, and he laces our fingers together, bringing our joined hands back to my stomach.

“Can you show me?” he repeats, and the warmth of his hand is burning through my shirt, pooling in my core, making me want like I haven’t wanted another person in a long time.

“Oh.” I take a deep breath.

I guide his hand lower, flush against my skin, under my waistband and down until his fingers cup my cunt. When I press my middle finger down against his, he moves with me, one long finger parting my lips and stroking through silky wet heat. He follows my lead, waiting for me, his knuckle bending when mine does, nudging against my entrance. His finger is so much longer than mine. When I curl it, pressing in, it’s him sliding into me, his fingertip, shallow and easy.

I exhale slowly, not pushing, and he stays, chest rising against my back as he sucks in a deep breath, waiting for my direction.

“Can you feel how much I want you?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he says, low and gravelly.

“Good.”

I’m shaky and wet and aching with how much I want him, and I’m not sure where this is going, not sure I’m ready for more than his fingers, but I need him to understand: none of this, none of my hesitation, is because I don’t want him.

I draw his hand up, showing him where to stroke with one slick fingertip, circling my clit, and I can feel him trembling too, all down my back, his cock hard where it presses against my ass. This torturous drawn-out intensity, the way he’s waiting for me… it’s almost unbearable, but at the same time, I can’t bring myself to move any faster.

We breathe in sync, both our chests heaving at the same time as the zing of it ripples out through me, and —

Someone bangs on the door.

“Up and at ‘em!” Dean shouts. “C’mon, let’s hit the road.”

“Fuck,” I hiss, as Sam lets out a low groan. It takes every bit of my willpower to pull away. When I roll to face him, he’s just as wild-eyed as I feel, flushed and panting and gorgeous.

We’re both paralyzed for a second, staring at each other, until he lets out a long sigh.

“Later,” he husks, and it sounds like a promise.

“Later.”

Later, when we fall into bed, I’m shaking for a completely different reason.

It wasn’t a bad hunt, in the end. It’s just one moment that keeps replaying in my memories on a sickening loop. There was so much blood, all down the side of his face and neck, and he went still in a way that made my heart stop for a second.

Apparently ears bleed a lot.

I felt a little embarrassed when I saw the injury, a barely-there slice through the cartilage, but I couldn’t shake the sight of all that blood. There’s still traces of it on his skin, dried in his hair. My stomach churns whenever I catch a glimpse of rusty red.

He pulls the comforter up over us, lying on his uninjured side, and I kiss him, deep and starved, my entire body vibrating with the tension of lingering adrenaline, like my skin is sparking up with the reminder that we’re still alive and we should enjoy it while we can.

I can feel it in his muscles, too, the way he’s holding back, holding himself stiff like he has to restrain himself. He rolls onto his back and takes me with him, arms strong around me, body warm and ready under me.

I choke on a quiet sob, trying to hold it in.

Sam freezes, big hands cupping my cheeks as he breaks the kiss. He looks at me, eyes deep green-gold in the lamplight.

“It’s not — it’s not that. You scared me.”

“I know,” he says. “I know. It’s okay. I’m here.”

“Want you,” I say fiercely, watching the way his swollen-red lips twitch into a bittersweet smile.

“Not like this,” he says. “Not when you’re already on edge. If your fight or flight system is still all revved up…”

He’s right, but I hate it. He brushes hair back from my forehead and kisses me again, chaste and quick.

“Okay,” I whisper, against his mouth. “Just… god, you scared me, Sam.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and I kiss one corner of his mouth, then the other.

“I need a shower,” he says.

I frown, feeling childish as I confess, “I don’t want to be alone.”

“I didn’t mean — come with me,” he suggests. “Shower with me. Not — no sex.”

I raise an eyebrow at him skeptically. “Really?”

“You don’t have to,” he backtracks gently. “If you’re not ready to—”

“Sam, I’ve wanted to see you naked since I met you,” I say flatly. “Believe me, that is not the problem.”

He laughs, dimples flashing as he grins up at me. “Then… yeah. Come shower with me. I don’t want to let you out of my sight either.”

“Yeah, okay.”

He only turns on half the bathroom lights, keeping it dim. The harsh fluorescents would be too much. It’s easier to pull my shirt off when I feel like I can still hide in the shadows.

I try not to stare as he strips down matter-of-factly and steps in, but it’s not easy. It’s not easy to look at myself, either, when I compare my body to Sam’s. I get my clothes off before I can talk myself out of it, tripping clumsily out of my jeans.

He must see something different than I do when I look at myself, because the way he stares at me when I step into the shower… he looks at me like he never wants to stop looking.

I’ve never felt like this before, shaky and vulnerable and open but in a good way, because somehow I’m sure I’m not the only one feeling like this. I’ve never trusted anyone like I trust Sam. That trust is what stops me from covering myself with my hands, stops me from doubting myself as I step under the spray with him and stand up on my tiptoes for a kiss.

One kiss turns into more, syrupy-slow, water streaming down our skin as we melt into each other. Sam licks and sucks and nibbles at my mouth until my lips feel puffy and bruised. I adjust, slowly, to the feel of his body against mine, the way my soft curves mold to the muscled planes of his chest, the way his cock twitches against my stomach as he gets hard, and even though I can feel the length of him hot and heavy between us, he doesn’t press for more; he kisses me like this is all he’s ever wanted to do.

By the time he pulls away, I’m light-headed. He looks down at me with water beading in his spiky eyelashes, and he smiles.

“You’re beautiful,” he says simply, and somehow, I believe him.

I don’t know what to say, but it doesn’t seem to matter. He grabs his shampoo from the edge of the tub and turns me around, my back to his chest.

He massages little sudsy circles into my scalp and combs his fingers gently through the tangles. He shields my eyes when it’s time to rinse, tilting my chin back gently into the spray. Nobody’s done this for me since I was a child. It makes me feel innocent and serene and fucking treasured, the way he takes care of me.

Sex has always felt like the height of intimacy to me. I always feel vulnerable, like that’s the closest I can get to another person, the most exposed.

Sam’s fingers in my hair feel like a better expression of trust than anything I’ve ever done in bed. Sex has never felt this intimate. I’m not sure anything has ever felt this intimate.

Everything starts to fade, the leftover adrenaline draining out of me, the outside world ceasing to matter. It’s just Sam and me, completely bare, wrapped in our little steamy cocoon. I feel safe. I feel exhausted, heavy-eyed and heavy-limbed, muscles aching, but I don’t feel pressured and I don’t feel nervous. I just feel safe.

Maybe it’s the booze talking, but I want to lick Sam’s arms.

He’s stretched out over the pool table as he lines up his shot, eyes laser-focused, hands curled around the cue. He has his sleeves rolled up past his elbows, and I can see veins standing out under the skin, corded muscles rippling, bunching and shifting with every twist of his wrist.

Yeah. I want to lick Sam’s arms.

Dean spits out a sip of his beer, spluttering out a vehement, “Ew, I don’t want to hear that shit!”

So apparently I said that out loud.

Dean stalks away, muttering to himself, and I chirp a quick “Sorry!” to his retreating back.

He’ll get over it.

Sam’s done with his game, and he’s walking toward me, grinning in that slow easy way of his as he tucks his hair behind his ears. He’s so fucking gorgeous. I can’t handle not touching him any more.

“Can we get some air?” I ask breathlessly, and his eyes sparkle with amusement as he lets me tug him outside.

There are a couple people smoking by the door, so I pull him farther away, down to the end of the building, where a tacky wooden statue of a bear stands between us and the door. It’s close enough to privacy.

Sam slouches back against the brick, and I stand up on my tiptoes to kiss him, leaning against him and trusting him to keep me upright. He goes with it, opening up for me as I take control of the kiss, his lips pillowy, and I can feel him smile.

“What was that for?” he asks, when I give him a second to breathe. I nuzzle into the side of his neck and nip at his pulse, and his fingers tighten on my hips.

“Just want you,” I say bluntly. I kiss him again, a deep filthy kiss that I can feel down to my toes. “I was watching you, and… yeah. Want you. Can we go back to the motel?”

“You’re drunk,” he says, mock-admonishing, but he’s still smiling.

“‘M not drunk, you’re drunk,” I mumble sulkily.

“Yep,” he says, popping the P, and raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah, okay,” I concede. “Tipsy, maybe.”

“Which is still too drunk,” Sam says gently.

I let out a tiny frustrated sound as he kisses me again. “Fine.”

He laughs, shifting his weight, getting one knee between mine, and when I settle closer, I can feel the blunt pressure of his thigh right between my legs.

“Believe me,” he whispers, between kisses, “I would really, really love to take you back to the motel right now but… it’s not a good idea.” He shifts, and I whine at the friction. “I’m not going to have sex with you tonight. I want us both to be sober for that. When we get there… I want to remember every second of it.”

“Kinda worried I’m gonna combust before then.” The drag of denim on denim pulls at the seam of my jeans, almost painfully good, and I shiver.

“Oh,” he says quietly, like he didn’t realize that he was torturing me. He rocks forward experimentally. It feels like fireworks.

“Don’t oh me,” I grump, except it comes out more breathless than grumpy.

“It’ll be worth the wait,” he whispers. “Don’t want to rush it. Want to take my time with you. I want to watch you come for me, want to taste it —”

I whimper, rolling my hips helplessly, clinging to Sam so tight that my fingers must be bruising his biceps.

“Do you like thinking about that?” he asks, growling low against my ear. “My mouth?”

“Please,” I bite out. “Fuck, Sam, I need — something. Anything.” I tilt my hips down again, trying to make my point.

He hesitates for a split second before rocking up to meet me, and I let out a ragged sigh.

“I won’t — not tonight, not more than this,” he says hoarsely, stumbling over the words. His hands grip my hips, holding me still as he asks intently, “Are you sure this is okay right now? If you really want —”

“Please,” I say again. I meet his eyes, embarrassed by how much I want him but steady in spite of it.

Maybe it’s the alcohol making me feel like this, loose and relaxed and reckless, or maybe it’s just Sam, the way he’s letting me take the lead, the way he groans when I shudder against him, the way I trust him with my life and trust him enough to let him see me fall apart like this.

And I am falling apart. I work my hips in little circles, feeling the dull burn of it clench in my gut with every tiny movement, pushing myself closer to the edge.

Sam just lets me, chest heaving, murmuring filthy-sweet things in my ear: “I’m all yours. Anything. Don’t care how long I have to wait, just — want to make you feel good. Want you on top of me, want you to just — ride my mouth, rub yourself all over my tongue, want —”

I let out a tiny, bitten-off whimper, hiding my face against his shoulder. My muscles spasm as I come, jerking against him, feeling it thud through me all at once like a punch to the gut.

I’m almost surprised by it, and by the wave of relief that washes through me. It’s not the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had, but it’s the easiest by far. I never realized I could get off like that.

Then again, any experience I’ve ever had with dry-humping was with the guy on top of me, hipbones bruising my thighs, and… yeah. No thank you.

“Jesus,” Sam breathes, arms around me, supporting my weight as I collect myself.

“That was… unexpected,” I blurt out, and I giggle helplessly as I pull back to look at him. He grins back, and there’s something so dazed and beautiful in his expression that I lose my breath all over again.

“I —” Sam starts, but he catches himself, shutting his mouth abruptly.

I’m falling in love with you, I think, heart pounding, but I know I can’t say it now, can’t say it like this.

Sam and I look at each other in silence for a second, and then the moment passes. I flush, self-conscious, an apology on the tip of my tongue.

“Don’t apologize, that was one of the hottest things that’s ever happened to me,” Sam says preemptively, before I can form the words. “You should go inside, before Dean comes looking for us. Just… give me a second?” He adjusts himself in his jeans, making a face, and I giggle.

“See you in there.”

“That was easy,” Dean comments, as we buckle our seatbelts. “Where to next? Sammy, did you find anything in the paper this morning?”

“Actually,” Sam says. “I could really use an evening off. Can we grab some food and go back to the motel and just… chill for the night?”

He and Dean exchange one of those Winchester looks that don’t mean anything to anyone else but the two of them.

“Sure,” Dean says easily. Sam smiles at me in the rearview, and I think, oh.

My brain is my worst enemy. By the time we pull into the motel lot, I’m panicking, and I’m not even sure why.

Sam’s laughing at something Dean just said, bathed in gold late-afternoon light, and he’s incredible, and I should want nothing more than to get him in our room and jump him, but my chest feels tight and I’m convinced that I’ll freeze up, freak out, mess it all up, and he’ll give up, he’s already been so patient —

“Hey, you okay?” Sam asks. The driver’s side door slams behind Dean, breaking me out of my trance.

“Fine,” I say, too brightly. “I’m fine.”

He studies me for a second, head tilted, and I try to smile at him. It doesn’t work.

“I’m not fine,” I amend, and feel my face crumple.

“Hang on one sec?” Sam asks, and I take a second to compose myself as he jumps out of the car. He and Dean have a whispered powwow and then Sam returns, key in hand, sliding into the driver’s seat.

“Come sit up front,” he says easily, without explanation. “Let’s go for a drive.”

“We can —” I try, but he cuts me off.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel like there’s pressure,” he says firmly. “I just want to spend time with you. Let’s just… go for a drive.”

So that’s what we do. When we leave the strip mall hell that surrounds the motel, Sam gets off the highway and we’re in the woods, driving up a winding mountain road. Sam seems to know where he’s headed; he mutters “Think it’s around here somewhere,” at one point, and then eventually he turns onto the Blue Ridge Parkway.

He drives slow, easing into the sharp curves. I can breathe again. It’s hard to feel panicky out here, up in the open air, close to the pink-tinted sky. When the trees open up there are views of sprawling valleys, just starting to turn orange and yellow in the first hints of fall.

There’s a wide pull-off for a scenic overlook, “Rocky Knob,” and Sam parks. The sun is setting behind us and the clouds are lined in deep pink now.

Sam spreads his coat out on the scratchy grass, right in front of Baby, and we sit next to each other, watching in easy silence as the light fades and dusk falls.

“Thank you,” I say quietly, tilting my head onto his shoulder. He slips an arm around me and I shift, turning to settle more comfortably against his side. A sliver of moon is just visible on the horizon.

“You know you don’t —” he starts. His voice sounds choked and strange. “There’s nothing to thank me for. I just like seeing you happy. That’s more important to me than… any of the rest of it.”

“Thank you,” I repeat, firmly, and he lets out a laugh that’s more of a sigh.

I twist to kiss him, intending to make it a quick peck on the corner of his mouth, but he turns to meet me, tongue flickering over my lower lip, teeth scraping ever so carefully. One hand finds my cheek, and his fingers are so long that I feel dwarfed by the way they cradle and caress and pull me closer.

I crawl into his lap, straddling him. He has one hand on the small of my back and the other between my shoulderblades, steadying me. I trace the hard lines of bones under skin, running my fingers along the jut of his jaw and stroking the hinge of it with my thumb, sliding the other hand back to cup the shape of his skull, and for all his size and strength he feels fragile under my fingers. I brush over his pulse and rub the soft hollow behind his ear, and I can feel how fragile this is, this thing between us and the way it makes him shake when he breathes.

We’re both shaking, I realize, as I rest my forehead against his. The tip of my nose nudges against his. The curve of his lower lip brushes mine, barely, not intentional enough to be a kiss, just… close.

Not close enough. Never close enough.

“Sam,” I start, voice wobbling dangerously, but I don’t even know where to begin. His fingers twist in the back of my shirt, fisted in the fabric like he’s afraid to let go. He exhales — inhales — trembles.

Somehow I never considered that I might not be the only one here who’s scared.

I kiss him one more time, trying to tell him how I feel even if I can’t say the words yet, and then I pull away to look at him. His eyes catch and reflect the moonlight, glittering in the dark.

“Let’s go,” I say, and my voice isn’t shaking any more.

Sam’s nervous. He doesn’t know what to do with himself once the motel room door clicks shut behind us; he turns the desk lamp on and just stands there, rubbing the back of his neck and shifting his weight uncomfortably.

“We could watch a movie?” he offers. His hesitation makes it easier, somehow, to take the lead; I go up to him and tug at the hem of his shirt as I kiss his jaw.

“I don’t want to watch a movie,” I say firmly. I slide my hands under his shirt and run my thumbs over the ridges of his hipbones. “Take this off?”

He strips his shirt off and tosses it to the side, smiling, shy and happy.

We kiss and shed layers and kiss again, stumbling back toward the bed. When the backs of my legs hit the mattress, we’re down to our underwear, and even though I’ve seen Sam naked, now, the sight of him takes me by surprise. It doesn’t seem fair, how beautiful he is. All the bare golden skin throws me off-balance.

He moves slowly into my space, running his hands up my arms to cup my shoulders, and when he kisses me, my head spins. I sit down heavily on the edge of the bed, feeling clumsy and stupid. Sam just folds to his knees in front of me, smiling up at me patiently.

“Can I?” he asks softly. He runs his hands up my legs and hooks his fingers in the elastic of my panties. When I nod, he tugs, and I lift my hips to let him slide the fabric down until it’s out of the way.

He moves closer, kneeling between my spread legs. He doesn’t look shy any more. He looks hungry, pupils huge in kaleidoscope blue-gold irises as he watches me through his lashes.

I nod again, silently giving him permission, and his lips curl into a smile. Sam hooks his hands under my thighs and pulls me forward, until I’m right on the edge of the bed.

“Give me your hand?” he asks, and when I do, he brings it to his head, tangling my fingers through his silky hair. I lean on my other hand to brace myself and the position opens me up for him even more. “You’re in charge,” he reminds me.

The first lick is slow, just a smooth wet curl of heat tracing up my center, good in a way that’s easy and sweet even if it’s not the ‘god more now’ kind of pleasure. I run my fingers through Sam’s hair idly, trying to relax. He does it again, dipping down and dragging up, before swirling his tongue over my clit, and the friction coils up and rolls out through my core. The next lush swipe of his tongue has more pressure behind it, and he lingers on my clit, flattening his tongue, massaging. I let out a little sigh, and he hums approvingly.

“Want you to tell me what feels good, okay?” he asks, mouthing at the crease of my hip. “Or show me. Hold me where you want me.”

How does he just say those things?

Sam buries his face between my legs again, not just licking but working me over with his open mouth pressed to my cunt like he’s kissing me. He gets my clit between his lips and sucks gently, and it’s so good that I tug him closer helplessly, giving in to the pleasure before I even have a chance to hold back.

“Sorry,” I gasp, relaxing my grip when I realize how hard I’m pulling. “Shit, sorry, didn’t mean to —”

“I like it,” Sam growls, the words vibrating right up against me. Then he’s doing that thing again, slick pulsing pressure, and I give in, twisting my fingers in his hair and tilting my hips up to meet his mouth as my eyes roll back in my head. He moans low in his throat.

Every wave of suction feels more intense. It’s sharp and bright and perfect, building so fast I’m not sure what to do with myself; all I can do is hold on and arch up and shudder. I can feel it pulling up from my fingers, my toes, an inevitable swell of pressure under my skin until the wave of it finally crests and I come with a shout, long and drawn-out, one shock of pleasure after another.

“Fucking — fuck, Sam,” I whine, my voice coming out embarrassingly high-pitched and cracked. He flicks his tongue over me again and I twitch, jerking away from the raw-nerve feel of it.

When I drag my eyes open he’s looking up at me, smiling, a dimple just visible as he turns his head to kiss my inner thigh.

The fuck am I supposed to say to that?

Apparently I can’t say anything to that. I think my brain has gone permanently offline.

Sam sort of scoops me up and deposits me farther back on the bed, where I’m not at risk of falling down on my ass, and I grin dazedly as he stands up. His mouth is red and swollen and it looks like sin.

“Still with me?” he asks, and I nod. “Be right back.”

I scoot back until I can get under the blanket and sink into the pillows. I hear Sam rummaging in his shower kit, then the water running, but I don’t have the mental capacity to pay attention. My eyes are half-closed by the time he comes back.

He sets a bottle of lube down on the nightstand and I avert my eyes uncomfortably, taking the glass of water he offers before he slides into bed next to me.

“Why did that just make you get all shy?” he asks softly, correctly interpreting my expression. I shrug and twist away to set the glass down, but when I turn back to him, he’s still waiting for an answer.

I cuddle close, tucking my head under his chin, listening to him breathe for a moment. He’s naked, hard against my hip, and I’m almost surprised by the way my body responds to that; my stomach flips, hot and eager, in spite of my racing thoughts.

“It’s like… all of this,” I say hoarsely. “It just makes me feel like I’m being a pain in the ass. Because it’s supposed to be simpler than this. It means I’m not wet enough, and… I want you, and that should be the only thing that matters, and instead we have to go through this whole process of talking about my issues and… it’s supposed to be easier than this, and it’s my fault.”

Sam is very still, muscles stiff, and for a moment I’m afraid he’s angry.

“It’s not ‘supposed to’ be anything other than good for you,” he says sharply. “Look at me for a second.”

I pull back, taking in the fierce, raw expression on his face. My chest feels tight.

“Everybody’s different,” Sam says, quiet and intense. “Everybody has shit they like and don’t like, places they like being touched… it’s not an issue, and it’s especially not your issue. You’re not being difficult by telling me how to help you enjoy yourself. I want that. I want to know how to make you feel good. Okay?”

“Okay,” I whisper.

“And if I ever meet any of your exes —” he says, jaw clenching, eyes stormy. I let out a nervous little giggle, and his expression melts from thunderous to soft before he continues, “It makes me happy knowing that you feel safe. It’s hot, watching you get off on it… your reaction is what turns me on more than anything.”

My stomach swoops. I slide closer, running a thumb over the soft swollen curve of his lower lip. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he breathes, voice dropping down low. “You have no idea what you do to me.” He rubs his palm over the curve of my hip like he can’t get enough of my bare skin. “When you were pulling my hair and just — the way you were shaking —”

I cut him off with a kiss, melding my body to his, and he smiles against my mouth before opening up easily, kissing me back with these slow, sultry swipes of his tongue. I can feel him everywhere: bare all down my front, hands roaming like he can’t help himself, close and feverish under the blanket. I push it down, shivering at the cool air on my sweaty skin.

When I tangle a hand in his hair and tug slightly, Sam makes a gorgeous needy sound, and his cock twitches, hard and thick against my stomach. I push him onto his back and he goes easily, pliant under me, looking up with a flush on his cheeks and a smile on his lips as I straddle him. For a moment I feel paralyzed by the sight of him. The moment stretches and I just stare.

Sam runs his hands up my hips, sliding one hand up between my breasts before tracing the curve of one with his knuckles, dragging his thumb over my nipple and circling as the skin pebbles under his touch. My shivery sigh of pleasure breaks whatever spell we were under.

I duck down to kiss him again, and the movement presses the ridge of his cock right between my legs, silky skin hot where it slots up against me. When I roll my hips, we both groan.

I reach for the lube. His smile goes smirky at the edges.

“If you say ‘I told you so’ right now, I swear to god —” I blurt out, and we’re both laughing as I touch him, slicking him up messily.

It’s the laughter that erases the last of my doubts. My nervous giggle bursts like a bubble in my chest, releasing whatever tension I was holding there. I just feel light and giddy and happy as I wipe my hand on the blankets and position myself.

Then I’m sinking down, opening up around him, and the sudden aching stretch turns my laugh into a breathy moan. Sam is watching me as I work my hips down, taking him in. His eyelashes flutter against his cheek.

I understand, now, what Sam meant: your reaction is what turns me on. Because if I’d wanted him before, it was nothing compared to how I feel now. He tilts his head back, arching up and exposing his throat, tendons shifting under the skin as he strains under me and gasps out my name, and the clenching wave of need in my belly is blinding.

Fuck.

I shift, lean forward, sparking up some new kind of friction deep inside where I’m so full of him, and I’m whimpering as I kiss him gently.

“Okay?” he asks. I cup a hand to his jaw and he brings his own up to cover it, an oddly tender gesture.

“So much better than okay,” I tell him. It’s the truth.

I take it slow. We kiss, mouths clumsy with need, and I take it slow.

It takes a few minutes to adjust to his size. I rock my hips in tiny little movements, circling, twisting, feeling all the different ways there are to just feel him. Every movement brings some new sort of sensation as he drags against every sweet spot deep inside me.

I’m barely moving. I know he must want to fuck up into me, thrust, but he holds back, holds himself steady, lets me take what I need while he whispers sweet bits of nonsense against my lips. He tells me I’m beautiful, tells me I feel incredible, tells me I’m safe, and I trust him.

Then I grind down harder, and something flares up inside me, quivering out from where his cock is pressing deep in my belly. I do it again. The low dull throb of it has me trembling, panting against his mouth as I brace myself to get more, harder, clenching around him desperately.

Sam slides a hand down between us, flattening his palm over that spot, and I can feel the pressure building right there, but I need more.

“Sit up for me?” he asks raggedly. “Lean back, it’ll —”

He grits his teeth and cuts himself off, but I do it without questioning, sitting back on my heels and bracing my hands behind me. I would feel exposed if I wasn’t distracted by how good this feels. I’m barely moving, still, but Sam presses his palm down and tilts his hips up, and it’s like I can feel the molten force of it everywhere, like it’s going to split my skin.

Sam looks as close to the edge as I feel, eyes glazed, and I can feel him jerking up to meet me.

“Do it,” I hiss, and when he thrusts up for real, the surge of pressure makes me cry out, loud and shameless like I never am.

One last urgent grinding roll, one last surge of pressure, and I’m gone. I let my head fall back and let go, trusting Sam to keep me tethered to the earth as everything else goes brilliant white and sends me flying.

I’m distantly aware of the way he curses and twists up, the way he swells and twitches inside me, but there’s so much sensation that I can’t separate what’s him and what’s me; it’s all just one hot slick rhythmic pulsing rush as we ride it out, together.

When I start to go shaky and useless, Sam tugs me so that I flop forward onto his chest. I melt against him, face buried in the sweaty crook of his neck, skin thrumming with satisfaction. I kiss whatever bit of him is close to my mouth, and he tastes like salt.

“So that’s what that’s supposed to feel like,” I mumble.

“I don’t think it’s ever felt like that, with anyone,” Sam says quietly, like he’s telling me a secret. “But… I’ve never felt this way about anyone, so.”

I can tell he’s holding his breath. I put my palm on his chest. His heart is pounding, racing in counterpoint to mine, and I want to tell him that he’s safe; he can trust me with this.

“Me too,” I whisper, and he exhales.

If you enjoyed this, please reblog and/or leave me a message? It means the world.

Thanks for reading.

#spn fic #sam winchester fic #supernatural fic #sam winchester smut #sam winchester x reader

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haitanizzz · 3 years ago

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!contains tokyo revengers manga spoilers!

cw: angst, swearing, alcohol mention, slight violence, blood/bruises mention, slight sa? (non-consensual kiss), spelling errors

characters: draken and inui

summary: draken gets drunk and got his ass into a fight. inui picks him up and takes care of him but draken can't seem to move on from emma. inui can't tell the difference between platonic and romantic attraction, kinda one-sided love?, draken basically being depressed lol also set in the timeline where they own a bikeshop together

note: i don't ship them but i don't have anything against the ppl who do, i just thought their relationship was a great angst material :) i rushed the end a bit tho cuz i was getting out of ideas lol hope you enjoy!! also big thanks to the people who requested from us and we're a bit slow, but we're working on them don't worry!<3

-L

"hey inui! inui! seishu are you okay?"

draken was having it rough for a few days now, his nightmares about emma coming back to him each night like a curse from the past. inui noticed that his friend was more tense around him or when draken would hesitate to call out to him, but he didn't say anything since he knew that mental health was a touchy subject for his partner because of a certain girl. he was having a hard time ignoring it though as it left a bad taste in his mouth, but he didn't know why. is it because draken is his dear friend or maybe it is because he was in love? ken was so nice to him and he was his friend because he was inui seishu and not somebody else, right? he was so lost in his thoughts he didn't even hear draken call out to him.

"huh?"

"i've called out to you 3 times already! you look like you've been stressing so much lately-"

"oh no, no! im totally fine don't worry about it, i was just daydreaming a little bit!" he said as he let out an awkward laugh.

draken flashed him a gentle smile and patted his back.

"if you say so! but don't hesitate to ask for anything if you're not feeling well, aight?"

"got it boss"

"hey! i told u stop with that!" he playfully scolded inui as both of them began laughing. "anyways i just wanted to ask if you could close the shop today? i'm going out with some friends to drink, so.."

"of course! you can count on me, just give me the keys and you can go!

"thanks inupi! i owe you one!"

it was already dark outside when draken began to pack his things and passed the keys to inui.

"don't forget to close it or i'll beat ya ass if anything is missing tomorrow!"

"yeah yeah, just go already!" inui said as he pushed his friend through the door of their office.

"see you tomorrow seishu! "

he woke up to his ringtone, phone buzzing on the table as he got up and tried to wipe the sleep from his eyes. he didn't even have the energy to look at who was calling him so he just picked it up.

"yeah! see ya!" he sighed and almost slammed the door shut on accident. he was nervous but why? he could feel a pit in his stomach like when something bad is about to happen but he ignored the feeling and chose to dose off for a small nap on the sofa that was in the office.

"hello?" he answered the phone with a groggy voice.

"hey inui! sorry to call you this late but i need you to come here!"

"kazutora? it's not often that you call me, what's wrong?" he was dumbfounded that kazutora callled him as they barley even kept contact with each other.

"it's draken."

"what?"

"that idiot got drunk and punched a dude."

"oh god, again? " inui pinched the bridge of his nose not wanting to get up and drive there because he didn't like dealing with drunk people especially when it was ryuguji who got drunk. "im coming don't worry, thanks for giving me a call kazutora.

"thanks inui, we're at the new bar, just 2 streets down. we'll wait for you at the entrance!" kazutora said and immediately hang up.

"i swear that dumbass is going to be my death one day.." inui murmured and grabbed his jacket and the keys to his bike. "thank god it's not that far, just 2 streets down or i wouldn't even go to get his drunk ass."

the engine of his motorbike roared as he stopped in front of a bar, that had neon lights around it. everything was so bright he got a little dizzy and almost had to close his eyes. he spotted kazutora and draken sitting together at a random shop's staircase that was next to the bar. he got up from his bike and began walking towards them and it was when he got closer, that's when he noticed the blood sitting on draken's white shirt and bruises all over his face.

"what the fuck happened?!"

the two of them jumped at inui's voice not expecting him to shout at them.

"sorry to drag you out to get him this late, i could've bring him home myself but chifuyu and the others are still in there and im kinda worried what would they do when there's nobody to look out for them." kazutora said as he slightly bowed his head as an apology.

"don't worry about it man, don't apologize." inui gave kazutora a slight smile as he took draken's arm around his shoulder to make sure he wouldn't fall. "i'll be taking him home now..thanks for looking out for him."

"it's nothing. have a safe drive and call me if something is up!"

"yeah will do!" inui said as he began walking back to his bike with now draken slumped over him. it was very strange that draken wasn't talking at all, he was usually very loud.

"im not a kid you know? i can take care of myself inupi."

"oh so you now know how to talk? and it didn't seem like you were doing so good, so just shut up and let me drive you home!"

draken let out a laugh as he sat on the back of the motorcycle and grabbed the spare helmet.

"aight, aight! just don't be so loud, my head is killing me.."

"i wonder why?" inui scoffed as he sat on the front. "just make sure you don't fall off or you'll have to go to the hospital by yourself."

the drive to draken's apartment was quiet. none of them talked, the only thing that was making noise was the motorbike and those few cars that passed them. they were almost there when inui felt arms wrap around his waist and felt some weight on his left shoulder and he tensed under draken's touch, his heart hammering in his chest.

"i swear to god if you puke on me-"

"are you mad?" draken's voice was soft, almost like when a child got caught stealing candies.

inui didn't answer not knowing what to say to a question like that so he just kept quiet.

they soon arrived to draken's apartment complex and inui parked his bike.

none of them said a word and seishu helped his friend up the stairs, then to his door. keys jingled as draken searched his pockets and struggled to fit the key to his door inside the keyhole. inui gently pushed him away and opened the door and draken almost immediately went and crashed on the couch. seishu shaked his head and closed the door behind him, took off his shoes then followed draken to his livingroom.

"come on man, we need to get you patched up and change! i promise you can sleep all you want after we're done." draken just groaned and put his head on inui's shoulder s a sign to help him to his bedroom.

"i think the booze is really starting to get to me.." draken said as his words were slightly slurred from the alcohol he had consumed. inui helped him up and staring walking towards draken's room and sat him down onto the bed and turned on the lights. draken hissed at the sudden brightness and inui just let out a chuckle then went to the bathroom to get the first-aid kit. he came back with the box and sat next to draken and grabbed his chin.

"come on this gonna hurt a bit, but i'll be as careful and quick as i can so bear with it 'kay?" the tatted male just hummed as an answer and inui took it as a sign to start cleaning his bruises. he started dabbing under his eye first, then right under his jaw with careful movements. draken didn't seem to be giving any reaction so he just continued until his eyes sat on his slightly busted lip. seishu looked away for a moment then went to dab the sanitizer on his lip when draken took a hold of his wrist and he dopped the cottonball he was holding.

"what's wro-" seishu's words were cut off when draken kissed him. inui's whole body froze as memories from his high school years started to pry at his mind and tears filled his eyes. he didn't know what to do. was it the right thing that he just sat there without doing anything but his hands shaking? he will never know the answer to that. he only came back to reality when draken pulled away and smiled at him with red dusting his cheeks, inui didn't know if it was from the alcohol or because draken was embarrassed.

"i love you..emma." draken whispered against inui's neck and passed out. seishu couldn't process what was happening and his chest started to hurt. he quickly pushed draken off of him (who surprisingly didn't even budge) and stood up with wide eyes, tears threatening to spill out of them. he didn't even bother to pack the first aid kit as he was almost running to the door. he slammed the shop's keys on draken's kitchen island and left.

the next morning draken woke up with a headache.

"..what happened?" he said as he looked through his room, the first-aid kit on the floor. he tried to remember what happened last night as he went to get dressed for work.

he was confused when inui didn't came to work that day.

#tokyo revengers #tokyorev x reader #tokyo rev x male reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x male reader #tokyo revengers inui #inui seishu #draken #draken ryuguji #platonic tbh #inui i love you im sorry

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loomis-maxima · 4 years ago

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𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥

a/n : this is... pure filth and i’m not even sorry, im also sleep deprived so if it sucks, my bad. word count : 4k requested : yes and no warnings : 18+ only/ mentions of drugs/threesome/unprotected sex/name calling yk.. all the good stuff. [ty to @anongirl007 for brainstorming shit w me]

It was known that Chishiya and Niragi were both men that liked getting what they wanted, and they both knew exactly how to get it. The problem with that is they’re both so similar, but so different. Niragi would use his placement in the Militans and his twisted love for inflicting fear, pain and murder on anyone that would get in his way or try and stop him from having what he truely desired. _______________ Almost nothing was worse than the feeling of entering a game that was literally based on luck. Even with such a simple task to pick between 3 pills. One, that will kill you the second you take it. The other two.. Not as bad. Separated from your game partners, you stared down at three simple pills on top of a simple desk. That’s all that was in the room, besides the door to get out. You assumed Niragi and Chishiya’s rooms looked similar. The thoughts of taking the wrong pill and having your life ended, sent fear through your whole body, but there was a feeling of adrenaline that rushed through you too. Maybe that explained the current.. situation.. That you had gotten yourself into with Niragi, basically signing yourself up to be used by him whenever he felt like it, but also all while wanting some part of Chishiya. If Niragi knew that his toy wanted someone other than him, he would be rabid, let alone that someone being the one Niragi hated the most… he wouldn’t hesitate to make you regret even having the thought of another man. Don’t get it mixed up, there was only one reason why he wanted you, and it definitely wasn’t in a romantic way, to him, you’re just a hole he could have anytime, any place. Which was fine for you.. But you couldn’t help but shake the want for Chishiya. Focusing your thoughts back on the objective at hand, you looked closely at the small pills before you. No matter how hard you thought, you couldn’t figure this out. Checking the time on the phone that was provided you saw that you had one minute left to make a decision. You didn’t even want to think about what would happen if you ran out of time. Unlike Chishiya and Niragi, you didn’t observe the entrance to the separate rooms close enough to have figured this out. What you managed to miss was along the long hallway, there were three smaller hallways in front of them, all leading to three different rooms. They both picked up the repeating numbers unlike you, leaving you to your game of luck. With the sound of your phone alerting you that you had 30 seconds left to complete the game, you could have swore you felt a bead of sweat roll down your forehead. Your heart pounded in your ears as hurriedly picked up the second pill, the ten second countdown began. Without time to think you threw the pill into your mouth and swallowed it just before the countdown hit one. You closed your eyes tight, waiting for something to happen. Nothing. ‘’I passed’’ you said to yourself quietly, opening your eyes to look around the room. The door in front of you that was once sealed shut was opening right before your eyes. The feeling of relief quickly ran through your body as you exited the room before walking down another long white hallway to another door, leading you back out to the world. ________________________________ Unlike what you thought, the pill you ended up taking wasn’t the pill that had no side effects.. Instead, shortly after arriving at the Beach, you felt red hot all over your body, your hands were clammy and there was a weird feeling in the pit of your stomach that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. You hoped Kuina couldn’t tell there was something up with you, especially not knowing what it was yourself. You could thank the blue light that's shining from the pool for slightly blocking out how red your face was. As you both discussed the different games each of you had taken part in, you caught a glimpse of familiar long, dyed grey hair passing through the crowd. Once you could distinctly see Chishiya’s face you instantly felt that feeling in your stomach almost multiply. As he approached you and Kuina, he could quickly tell that something was up with you. Chishiya made note of the flush in your cheeks unlike everyone else, the way a couple of strands of your hair stuck to your forehead because of the heat that had taken over your whole body, the fact your pupils had largened, or the way your lips were slightly parted, almost as if you were lost for breath.. But not to the extent that it was noticeable, except for Chishiya. He had studied every single detail on your face when you had first joined the Beach. Never admitting it though, deep down he knew how he felt about you, never to mention it or even hint at the idea. Chishiya knew that would make him look weak, and that was something he couldn’t have happen. Chishiya stood beside Kuina, his hood up but his head slightly back with an amused smirk lightly on his face. He raised an eyebrow at you, ‘’So what pill did you pick y/n?’’ he asked, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets. His voice caused your ear tips to burn as you felt a sudden warmth between your legs.. Fuck. Trying to distract yourself from the feeling, that almost became painful, you racked your brain to remember what number you had chosen. ‘’Uh.. 2, I think, why?’’ you asked, trying to keep your voice steady, not even believing your own voice. It looked as if Chishiya slightly chuckled at your answer, for a moment you wondered if he knew, but how would he? Chishiya just shrugged a little before speaking. ‘’No reason, just curious’’ he lied right to your face, all while figuring out how to use this to his advantage. He knew had taken the middle pill just from one look at you, but he also knew exactly what was going to happen. Of course with just your luck, you had picked the one that just happened to be narcotics, crushed up and put into an empty pill capsule to match the appearance of the other too. You didn’t notice Kuina disappearing to join Arisu, until you noticed Chishiya take a step a little closer to you. You also didn’t notice the eye contact he had made with Niragi across the pool, and that was the first step to his idea, this would’ve been the best advantage he could ever have had. ‘’You should really be careful with the pill you took’’ he said smirking slightly, intentionally trying to catch Niragi’s attention and have him come over. You didn’t know what to say, words being ripped from your brain as his slightly rough voice sent a feeling of a deep need to be fucked as you felt even more warmth leak from between your legs. He took your silence as his go ahead to continue speaking, ‘’you really shouldn’t be out here when the drugs fully take over if you think this is bad right now’’ What he said next was something you never would have thought of him saying this, ‘’you should go to your room, I’ll come after and help you’’ he spoke with a wink. It was the most uncharacteristic for him- At least towards you. You took no convincing as you knew exactly what he meant, also not giving a shit about what would happen if and when Niragi found out. The almost pure animalistic feeling of lust ran over you. You didn’t care what would happen, you needed to be filled and it was gonna happen one way or another. ‘’Don’t take too long.’�� you said while nodding, then walking off back into the large building Just as Chishiya hoped, once you had retreated back inside to wait for him, Niragi had approached him. The wink that he had given to Niragi’s toy, was one step too far. Before Niragi could even open his mouth, Chishiya spoke. ‘’Before you start with your brainless insults and threats, you should know that in the game, you clearly didn’t know the effects of the pills.’’ he smirked, not fearing Niragi was always a benefit, especially when Chishiya could once show off his superiority and intellect. The two were rivals, both thinking that they were better than the other and would go to any lengths to prove it. But this time Niragi didn’t speak back as fast as usual, but the angry expression still resonated on his face, his tongue in his cheek, his pierced eyebrow raised while staring down the shorter man. With Niragi’s instinct he pressed the tip of his rifle right to Chishiya’s chest, ‘’well tell me, or I’ll blow your heart out in front of everyone here.’’ Niragi spat into his face, he hated how Chishiya could have the balls to even think of speaking back to him, the fact he didn’t fear him only intensified the hate for the intellectual grey haired man. Calling Niragi’s bluff, he let out a little scoff of air with a slight grin on his face as he spoke, ‘’You wouldn’t. Here’s why; if you kill me, you’ll never know. So unless you give me what I want, I won’t tell you.’’ he said, still standing strong even with the rifle pressed right against him. Niragi frowned right at him, he knew he was right. Niragi scoffed, his stubbornness working against him when he needed to know what Chishiya knew. After a few moments of silence, Niragi took the firearm from his chest. Chishiya knew this was risky, but he knew exactly how it would play out. Another competition between them. ‘’And what the fuck do you want?’’ Niragi said, his voice almost like a knife as the words came from his mouth. ‘’Considering I know you won’t let me have was I really want, I’ll compromise.’’ Chishiya spoke, standing up straighter and crossing his arms over his chest. Playing his cards right, he could get Niragi to agree before verbally agreeing. ‘’y/n took the wrong pill. Intense narcotics and assuming you right now, you took the right pill like me. The bad, or good thing about the drugs, is she’s going to be chasing a release that she won't be able to satisfy herself of.’’ He took a breath to try and let Niragi figure out what he means, except he didn’t. With another little chuckle under his breath Chishiya spoke out again. ‘’It means someone else has to do it. And knowing you wouldn’t let anyone fuck her, we’re both going to do it. Just another thing I’ll prove better than you at.’’ Chishiya knew the last comment would get under Niragi’s skin. With a slight nod of Niragi’s head and him accepting the challenge, it was set. ‘’Don’t be disappointed when you realise I’m the only one that can make her scream, Chishiya.’’ With a slight game plan of how they would go about this, the two rivals headed to your room. Niragi hung back a bit after knowing you were waiting for Chishiya. The thought of his property letting someone else have you made his blood boil, he’d make sure you knew it too. Ahead of him, Chishiya walked to your room and let himself in. But the sight that he had been greeted with almost knocked the wind out of his chest. You, lying naked on your bed, your skin almost looking hot as you had your head back with one hand holding your hair back from your face. Your eyes were shut as your other hand was roughly rubbing your clit, your fingers occasionally dipping into your entrance causing you to leave a visibly wet patch underneath you. The pleasure you were giving yourself was so needed that you weren’t aware of Chishiya entering and staring at you like you were his last meal. It was when you felt weight dip at the end of the bed and a hand running up your leg that you realised you weren’t alone. Your throat tightened and you removed your hand once you opened your eyes to see Chishiya moving his hand up to your core. ‘’You really couldn’t wait huh?’’ he said, his fingers travelling up to where you needed him. You shook your head desperately, feeling your wetness dripping as you clenched pathetically around nothing. Chishiya smirked, looking down at your pussy, slowly dragging the tips of his fingers over your clit teasingly. The action made you almost cry out in need. ‘’Look at you.. So desperate.’’ you heard as you felt two of his fingers pushing into you before pulling them out and putting them into his mouth just as you made eye contact with him, sucking the wetness from you off them. Standing up he quickly pulled his clothing off. While pulling you to him and flipping you over onto your hands and knees, you facing the door. For reasons you wouldn’t know yet. Feeling you press yourself against him, Chishiya smirked to himself. ‘’You’re really desperate for it, aren’t you?’’ he said, running his tip along your folds, His words only pulling a whine and a nod from you, not understanding why he was dragging it out so long. You felt him lean over you to speak into your ear, his breath was harsh on the sensitive skin by your neck. ‘’As pretty as you are when you’re a mess, I won’t drag it out anymore, because I’ve waited too long to have this cunt all to myself.’’ . On the last word you felt his thick length slowly pushing into you, throwing his head back at the feeling of you around him. The pace he was going at was enough to break you fully. The feeling of him filling you as much as possible had you crying for more. In a desperate attempt to get some friction, you started grinding back against him causing his slightly curved dick to hit the right spot inside you, but slowly in and out. ‘’Chishiya please’’ you cried, burying your head into the sheets of the bed to muffle the whimpers that he was dragging out of you. He slowly started picking up the pace, each time hitting even harder and harder against you. Chishiya pulled your head back by your hair, your eyes rolling to the back of your head from the red hot feeling on your scalp that he had you in a rough grip by. ‘’Oh no y/n, you’re to call me Sir. Got it?’’ he groaned while fucking into you harder. Tears stung at your eyes, nodding as much as you could as he still controlled your head. ‘’Yes s-sir’’ As he was holding your head back and pounding into you, you opened your eyes and your heart almost stopped. Your eyes fell upon Niragi, standing right at the door leaning against it with his arms folded over his chest and he looked pissed. The awkward part being is having locked eyes with him as Chishiya fucked you through your first orgasm, a scream being ripped from your throat from the feeling of finally getting release, but you needed more. Noticing you looking back at him he pushed himself from the doorway dropping his arms while walking over to you as Chishiya let you fall to your chest, but continuing his steady pace of pounding into you. ‘’Really Chishiya? Sir? What makes you think any part of you is sir?’’ Chishiya’s eyebrows furrowed, his hair disheveled and just snapped back at him. ‘’The part that has y/n crying because of how good I can fuck her.’’ Niragi crouched in front of you with a look on his face that confused you. He almost looked amused. ‘’I knew it… You’re just a desperate little slut aren’t you?’’ Niragi said as he dragged his thumb along your cheek and across the tears that had run down your face from both pleasure and terror. He dragged his thumb across the tip of his tongue to taste the salty tears with a chuckle. Clinking of metal filled the room, the sound of Niragi’s clothes hitting the floor made you realise the situation you were in so you held yourself up with shaky arms that threatened to give way under you. Niragi smirked down at you as he ran his hand over the top of your head before harshly connecting the same hand to your face right after. Niragi knew exactly what you liked, and so did Chishiya as he felt you clench even harder around him as Niragi had marked your face. Knowing Niragi didn’t like to be kept waiting, you quickly opened your mouth for him to have full access to your throat. Putting his hand back into your hair, Niragi took hold of you as he pushed his cock between your lips, your throat opening up almost immediately, he basically had you trained. ‘’The only thing your mouth is good for is fucking.’’ NIragi said as he started thrusting roughly into your mouth. The timing of both men fucking you made sure you were always full, if Niragi wasn’t down your throat, Chishiya was buried in you, and vice versa. With the roughness of Chishiya’s thrusts caused Niragi’s cock to hit the back of your throat causing you to lose breath each time. They continued like this, using you at each end to their will. Niragi’s dick hit a little harder, causing your throat to close around his long length and choke. The feeling was so euphoric to Niragi he caught the back of your head and shoved your nose flush against his pelvic bone. He let out a mix of a laugh and a moan, almost sounding maniacal as he continued to ram your throat. ‘’That’s it, let daddy fuck your throat. I know you can take it’’ His words made Chishiya chuckle as he pulled out of your entrance, needing to take a break or else he would’ve cum right then. ‘’You’re so predictable Niragi… how pathetic’’ Chishiya’s words made Niragi’s assault on you stop, pulling his cock from your mouth. You coughed and spluttered trying to breathe, a task that was failing due to the burning in your core of feeling empty. ‘’Please.. Just fuck me’’ you said breathlessly, laying back down with your hand once again travelling between your legs. Chishiya didn’t have to be asked twice, lying back against the bed he rubbed his hand over his now red cock. You didn’t hesitate moving over him and hovering above his length before he grabbed your hips and slammed you down on him. Another scream was pulled from you as he started to fuck up into you, your hands that were once resting on his chest now by his head, holding onto his hair with your head buried in his neck as he continued to rail you. With moaning in his ear, and a mixture of your breathless voice begging for him to fuck you through another orgasm along with the sound of your broken voice repeatedly saying; ‘’sir’’ he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. You felt Niragi behind you, but didn’t pay much mind as you felt another wave wash over you. ‘’Fuck.. Yes, cum all over my dick’’ Chishiya said, somehow managing to hit a new speed as you cried out, moaning as you felt liquid rush out of you. Chishiya’s moan was sinful, he knew he was close but he couldn’t let himself cum just yet. Just as you felt the pleasure fade, you felt something cold drip on you from behind. A familiar feeling approaching as you felt one of Niragi’s long finger enter your hole that yet stuffed. The feeling wasn’t there for too long before you felt empty again, but soon that changed. Chishiya steadied his hips, realising what his enemy was now doing. You both heard Niragi moan, probably the sexiest moan you had ever heard, as your tight asshole slowly stretched to accommodate his huge dick. The pain of him shoving all of his length into your ass soon passed as Chishiya took the chance to start fucking you again. Your body went limp as both of their thrusts started to sync up, each time both as aggressive as each other. You didn’t even care that they made it into a competition, the feeling of having them both bottoming out of both of your holes was something you never experienced before, and might have just been the best. It wasn’t long after Niragi started to fuck your ass like his life depended on it, that your next orgasm washed over you. This one being so intense you couldn’t stop shaking and it felt like it never would end. More unintelligible mumbles of the words ‘’daddy’’ and ‘’sir’’ couldn’t stop falling out of your mouth. Both men enjoying the fact they broke you down finally, convinced they had literally fucked the brain cells out of you Niragi pulled you back against his chest, sinking back onto his heels so both men could continue chasing their own high. By the twitching of Chishiya’s cock inside you, you knew he was close, so was Niragi. ‘’Fuck, y/n, you’re so fucking tight, I wonder how Niragi feels about me filling his little toy up’’ Chishiya said breathlessly, causing Niragi to animalisticly growl but not speaking due to being so close to spilling himself inside you. The grey haired man’s hands reached up to grab both of your breasts, pinching your nipples as one of Niragi’s hands coming down to your front before pinching your clit a couple of times. The sounds you were making almost made both men cum on the spot. You could see the desperation on Chishiya’s face, and hear the desperation in Niragi. ‘’My little slut ready? You gonna cum?’’ Niragi moaned into your ear, one hand still rubbing your clit desperately all while biting down on your ear, ‘’daddy’s gonna fill that ass so good’’ and thats all it took. Both men sensing you clench around them, they finally were reaching their own release. Niragi dropped you on your chest on top of Chishiya before leaning over you, his hand holding himself up above you and Chishiya. One of your hands twisting into Chishiya’s hair, the other being twisted into Niragi’s hair behind you. The pleasure from the last orgasm was so intense, you could feel yourself getting light headed, you tugged on both mens hair while you buried your face into Chishiya’s neck, his hot skin becoming stained with your tears, but in a good way. Chishiya guided one of his hand to the back of your head, almost a sweet gesture, except his thrusts faltered along with Niragi’s as they both finally peaked, both of them sinfully moaning and swearing under their breaths and both finally releasing inside of you. You thought you couldn’t cum anymore at this point, but the filthy feeling of having both men fuck their cum into both your holes sent you into overdrive, your final orgasm finally rushing through you, Niragi could tell and pulled you up slightly so he could rub your clit with lightning speed causing you to squirt everywhere. As you all rode your orgasms out, Niragi was the first to pull himself from you in time to watch his cum slowly drip out of the hole he had abused for so long. You lifted yourself, barely, from on top of Chishiya and lying on your back, struggling to breathe. Already getting dressed, Niragi commented to Chishiya, ‘’See? I am better at it than you.’’ Shaking his head but not moving to get up Chishiya spoke out, his own breathing irregular too. ‘’No, I think we might need to have round 2.’’

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