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krazyyyyyy · 6 months ago

Text

Forever Longing Solivan Brugmansia /Reader

Synopsis: A small glimpse into Sol's elementary life, where he abruptly meets the single most important person in his life...You

Warnings: Mentions of violence

Words: 2553

Notes: Don't know how many more of these I'll write, but I'm hoping to get around three more done if not a few more.

Hope you enjoy this short story <3

Children’s happy laughter echoed loudly throughout the playground, as they began to spill out of the school building; marking the beginning of their cherished recess time. Kids ran freely playing around with friends, swinging giddily on the swing sets, and continuously going up and down the slide.

Well, all the kids but one…

A young, small, and quiet Solivan stood far away from the other kids, staring at the ground at his feet, avoiding any eye contact with anybody within the area. He knew he didn’t fit in with the others, given his introverted nature, he was considered an outcast amongst his classmates. People tended to overlook him, barely acknowledging his presence even when they were standing right next to him.

He was used to it, though…. He had his drawing supplies and stuffed animals, the only things that really made him feel anything close to happiness. The stuffed animals would never judge him, and, they’d always be around to listen to him when he needed it, an idiosyncratic concept to him growing up in a loveless household.

A soft tap on his shoulder causes him to lift his amber gaze from the ground and into the familiar brown orbs of his teacher, Mrs. Baker. A woman with a skinny frame and curly auburn hair that just slightly exceeded her shoulders. It took everything within him not to scoff at her arrival. She was keen on pushing him towards being more sociable with the other kids, a goal that would always fail in his favor. So why couldn’t she just leave him alone?

She crouched down to his height and spoke to him in her usual soft and steady voice, “Solivan, Why don’t you play with the others today? It seems they're playing a little game of freeze tag, doesn’t that sound like fun?”

Solivan spared a short glance toward where the kids were running wildly at each other, while some others stayed frozen in place, showing signs of annoyance at being frozen; he retracted his gaze back to the ground shaking his head, mumbling a small “No”

Mrs. Baker smiled understandingly at the timid young boy before her, “I know it might seem scary, but give it a chance, you might like it more than you think.” She attempted one last time to try to convince the boy to open up, even if it was just a little.

The boy remained silent, having lost interest in the conversation completely and hoping that his teacher would simply give up and leave him alone for the rest of the recess period.

Thankfully, it seemed fate was on his side, as he heard his teacher sigh next to him before standing up and walking away to a different part of the playground to supervise a group of rather exuberant children. Leaving him alone at last.

The little raven-haired boy sat on the ground, back pressed against the steel fence that separated the playground from the busy streets that lay not far behind. Settling down, Sol pulled out a small sketchpad from his back pocket; a notebook that was filled page to page in his numerous doodles, which he usually did during class time to pass the time.

Pulling out a pencil, Sol began to doodle, head buried in the notebook; heavily embarked on the mini sketches that required his utmost attention. After a while, he finally cranes his head back to admire his work; his sketch was that of a small horse with a small sketched figure of him seated cheerfully on its back.

He beamed at the drawing, proud of his work. While marveling at the sketch, the notepad is quickly ripped from his grasp. Startled and confused, Sol snaps his head up to look at the culprits. Standing above him, were three kids, obviously much older than he was, possibly four grades above him.

Sol was quick to spring up to his feet to try to get the notebook back, but to no avail, as the blond boy who held the item towered over him. He held the sketchbook high above his head, so even if the little boy tried to jump for it, it would prove pointless in the end

“Give it back!” Sol shouted at the kids as he continued to try to reach for what he considered to be one of his only sources of comfort. All three of the boys laughed at him, “Aww, is the little weirdo gonna cry.” a boy with red hair teased, pointing at him.

“You drew yourself riding a horse? What are you, some kind of girl?” The blond boy jokingly flipped through the pages of the book, briefly observing its contents.

“Stop it!” When Sol tried to reach for his sketchbook once again, the blond boy laughed, before tossing the book over to another boy; then that boy proceeded to also flip through the book and laugh before also tossing it to the next boy. Sol found himself playing in this miserable game of monkey in the middle; a game where he could only watch as his book flew through the air above him, out of reach, with no hopes of ever reaching it.

Eventually, Sol got the courage to defend himself from these bullies, and with all the strength he could muster with his tiny form, he tried to shove the bully who had the sketchbook in his possession. But, the shove proved unhelpful, as the bully didn’t even move an inch.

Sol could barely catch his breath before he was harshly shoved to the ground. A sharp pain pulsed through his body as his back was met with the hard ground; Sol opened his eyes to notice that his sketchbook had fallen next to his body, the bully had more than likely dropped it in outrage at Sol’s sudden rebuke. Sol swiftly snatched the book off the ground and held it close to his chest, shielding it from the bullies.

Sol lay on the ground in a fetal position, with his back facing his bullies, arms still tightly wrapped around his sketchbook. There was a sudden sharp pain on his side as a bully directed a fierce kick toward the young boy; another boy directed a kick, of similar intensity, toward his other side, leaving the little boy only to whimper in pain.

The group of bullies continued to relentlessly kick the defenseless boy, not showing any hint of mercy toward him. Tears ran down Sol’s cheeks as he could only endure the endless kicks that the bullies threw at him. He closed his eyes and hoped the boys would soon grow bored with this and walk away, or maybe a teacher would notice this assault and interfere.

It felt like an eternity that the kicking would continue, he almost thought it would never end…

Until a loud voice rang out and suddenly the kick stopped.

“Hey! Leave him alone!” Sol heard the unknown voice shout at the group of boys. He peeked from his position to glance at where the shouting came from; upon opening his eyes, he was met with his saviors back facing him as they spread their arms out wide to shield him away from the sight of the bullies.

“Get outta the way Pipsqueak! Or you're gonna be next!” He heard one of the bullies shout at the person before him. Sol noticed the stranger's visible shakiness as they stayed rooted in their spot in front of him; they were just as scared of these bullies as he was, yet they still chose to throw themselves in the middle just to protect him. He felt a surge of admiration for the stranger; this had been the first and only time someone stood up for him�� his heart couldn’t help but skip a beat.

“No! I-I won't l-let you!” The stranger's words came out shuddered and breathy as if they were holding back tears. Luckily, their voice had been loud enough to possibly draw the attention of others nearby.

The twisted grins on the bullies' faces faded at the realization, and they looked around the area to see if anyone had caught the drift of what was happening.

“Shit!” Was the last thing Sol heard from them, followed by the frantic pattering of feet in the grass as the bullies quickly fled the scene. Leaving behind two frightened kids as a result.

Sol, who was still lying on the ground, breathed heavily, the fear coursing through his veins still running wild. He flinched when a blurry object suddenly came into his vision. As his vision slowly cleared, he noticed that the object was the outstretched hand of his savior; they looked down at him with a concerned expression, tears still lingering in the corner of their eyes.

Hesitantly, Sol took the hand, which helped pull him to his feet. He stumbled a bit but managed to regain his balance with a bit of effort and help from the person next to him.

“Are you okay?” The stranger asked him, their voice a bit hoarse from all the yelling yet still holding a subtle gentleness to it. Sol looked at them for a second, before shyly shifting his gaze off somewhere else and slightly nodding his head.

They smiled, their gaze landing on the item that Sol continued to hold tightly to his chest. “What’s that?” They pointed out the sketchbook, which, unknowingly to them, had caused the whole ruckus that just happened moments ago.

“... It’s my sketchbook,” Sol murmured under his breath, keeping his gaze away from the person in front of him. He never did well talking to people, never mind kids his age, this person wouldn’t be any different.

Their eyes lit up as he spoke, “You draw?! I wanna see it! Can I see pretty, please?!”

Sol was taken aback by their sudden interest in his sketchbook, his eyes were blown wide at them; he had never shown anyone his work before, nor had anyone ever asked to see it… this person was achieving a lot of firsts for him. He supposed he could show them, considering they had just saved him from a harsh beating.

“Umm… Okay.” Sol pulled the sketchbook from where it rested on his chest to hold it out between him and the stranger. He slowly navigated through the pages, properly allowing the person next to him to take in each piece of art. They were a bundle of excitement, commenting excitedly on almost every single little doodle in the book; it brought a small smile to Sol’s face, knowing that someone enjoyed his drawings just as much as he did.

“These are so good! You're so talented! Do you think maybe you can draw me something?” Sol felt his cheeks flush with an odd, unfamiliar warmth. They wanted him to draw something for them. Him? Out of all the people they could have asked? They wanted him to draw for them…

He fidgeted with the pages of the notebook in his hands, keeping his eyes glued to the ground, nervously. “Sure–”

“Wait! Before I forget, my name is Y/N!” They cheerfully cut him off, “What’s yours?” They talked a million words per second, which was a bit overwhelming, but Sol still found himself intrigued by them.

“My name is Solivan…” He spoke quietly, but loud enough for their newfound acquaintance to hear. “Solivan?” They tested his name out, “Well, Solivan from this day forward you are now my friend!” Sol stared at them dumbfounded. He never had a friend before, but didn’t think it would ever be this simple, yet here he was.

He didn’t get a chance to respond to their declaration when they continued to speak, “I’m thinking maybe a butterfly–No wait! A gecko… no…” They continued to list through a variety of animals, as Sol would stand and watch them in awe. He didn’t know what it was, but he felt some sort of connection to his new friend, it wasn’t unwelcome, but it was still strange.

“Oh, I got it! How about a dove? Mom says those are her favorite!”

Sol raises an eyebrow at them.“Like the bird? Are you sure?”

“Yeah!” They cheer.

Sol only nods his head in response, but a smile remains on his face at their jubilation. He sees the opportunity to speak after your moment of triumph and takes it, “I-um… thank you… for helping me. Not many would’ve done the same.”

They shake their head at him with a smile,“ Don’t mention it. You needed help…so I helped!”, the sincerity in their tone set Sol at ease. He wondered if had truly been missing out. If other kids acted just like Y/N, then maybe talking to others wouldn’t be so bad.

A mature voice suddenly rang out through the playground, catching everyone's attention, “Kids, recess is over! Start lining up with your class!”

“Aww man!” The child next to Sol groans, “Just when we were having fun, too!”. If their definition of fun was getting nearly trampled by a couple of older students, then Sol supposes he had the time of his life… Not really, though, but meeting Y/N was a nice surprise.

Children from all around the playground started to depart, moving to their designated class lines. Y/N started to make their way toward their line before they stopped to turn around to look at Sol one more time. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Solivan! Can’t wait to see the drawing!” And with that, the energetic second-grader gave him one last wave before running over to their class.

Sol gave them a little wave in return, watching as their figure got further and further away. It wasn’t long before he himself started making his way toward his own class, to continue the rest of his day. Of course, his attention wasn’t drawn toward that of his classwork, but rather that of the little dove drawing he spent the rest of the day drawing for that special someone he met.

Sol paid no mind as his art teacher rambled on and on about the importance of elements in art; his focus mainly on the small, worn-out sketch pad that lay open on his desk. He lazily drew his fingers along the delicate pencil marks of his old drawing from way back then.

Out of the drawings he had created during his entire childhood, that little dove that he drew for you in the second grade always held a special place in his heart. He remembers how bright your face lit up when he showed it to you the very next day; you insisted that he kept it in his sketchbook, under the circumstance that you get to view it anytime you want–which you would do on the daily.

He shifted his gaze from the paper to where you sat near the front of the classroom, trying your best not to fall asleep during the lecture. His heart ached for you to look at him the way you did when you were kids, now it was like he was a total stranger to you; another student who simply attended the same art class as you.

But with time, you’d eventually grow aware of his existence, you’d have too.

After all, you were his soulmate, just as he was yours.

#solivan brugmansia #tkatb sol #tkatb #tkatb vn #the kid at the back #tkatb x reader #katb vn #im tired

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hexxynn · 6 months ago

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you're my forever | best friend! anakin x fem!reader

word count : 10.2k

warnings : MDNI 18+, anakin and reader are 18, angst, angst, so much angst, self deprecation, reader has a mom named lucille, insecure! reader, modern!, jock! anakin, swearing, anakin worshiping the ground you walk on, reader is described as having a tummy!, praise, even more praise, anakin talks you through it, arguing, readers parents are divorced, pet names, virgin! reader, oral (f receiving), piv, no condom mentioned (wrap it before you tap it!), creampie, aftercare (i think that's all?)

summary : you develop feelings for your long time best friend, anakin. you fall into a pit of bedrot trying to cope and push him away, only for him to push back. what you didn't know is that he felt the same way.

a/n : my first fic ever pls be kind lol, this is my first time writing smut too, so any tips would be appreciated! im lit new to tumblr so please don't be afraid to request anything. also im literally a slut for angsty sex and praise can you tell? also this isn't proofread soz

You didn't know when your feelings had turned from platonic, to overwhelmingly romantic.

Honestly? It was scary.

You had known Anakin for a while, him being your neighbor for most of your life. That was, until you moved, but only to downsize after your parents split. The quaint neighborhood, the only thing you had ever known, being torn away from you. Luckily— your parents didn't want to move far, so you stayed put in the same town, just in different neighborhoods.

You were two when you guys met, both of your toddler selves adorned with the aroma of innocence and childhood. Your moms had both bonded, over the struggle of motherhood, while you two seemed to find each other in the purity of your early years. He came up to you, with a simple ask to push him on the swing; an offer you couldn't refuse. Retorting with an, "as long as you push me after," which couldn't help but earn an eager grin from Anakin.

As you two pushed each other, giggles and laughs emerging from the silence of the neighborhood, your mothers had noticed the bond and smiled; knowing their friendship, and the one forming by the swing sets, would go on past this little encounter. They exchanged numbers, beams from ear to ear, knowing they found comfort in each other, and a pal for their children.

❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥

As time went along, they set up playdates, leaving you two to watch shows, and do little things only young kids would do, whilst they sat on the back porch of your house with a wine glass in hand. You and Anakin would watch silly things, and you would play with his toy cars; in exchange, he'd play dolls with you (no matter how girly it was, or how frustrated he got in his three year old brain).

The neighborhood gossip would flow from their lips. Inside, the sounds of juvenility and jolly would make themselves present in some of your earliest memories. Your moms has been content with the current exchange. The simple call to come over, no matter whose house, with the almost immediate response from the other, and you and Anakin were dragged into their friendship, building one of your own. It worked out nicely.

As you grew up, playdates turned into school, and he was your best friend in elementary. Bus stop hand holding was the cause of teases from the boys (not the girls, who thought it was 'cool' you were able to get a kindergarten boyfriend), eliciting a shrug of nonchalance from Anakin. He would defend you, and go back to the swing sets with you, returning back to your place of blossoming friendship. He didn't care much for what the six year olds had to say, knowing you already for over half of his life. The bond your mothers had created was stuck, and would be for a while.

Once you got to middle school, there was a shift, though. He found his guy friends, understanding the game that adolescents liked to play with jokes and gossip. While he still walked you to the bus stop, he didn't see you as much in school. Especially with the deferring interests you two had grown. You had become a bookworm, immersed in studies as soon as you entered the next phase of your life, while he became athletic and would stay after school to play soccer with the other boys in the field behind school. Nevertheless, he'd come home and his mom would tell him they're going to your house. With no protest— he'd go. He would never turn down seeing you. Without prying eyes and weird looks, he could be himself and return to the faithful friend he'd had for so long. The simplicity and routine created never felt off, even as the times changed. He would always run back to you.

Until High School started. Things changed yet again, messing with the routine you two had created. He didn't walk you, or drive you to school, but would bring you food, smile at you in the halls, and nod his head in the structured environment of school. It was more than middle school. You two still saw each other as much as possible, but hangouts got a lot different. He got into football, and the schedule was rigorous. Yet, you'd still go to his games, cheer him on, and wait until he got home to personally congratulate him. He never even let flings, or girlfriends throughout the years, change his behavior towards you. It had never been explicitly romantic, but you two were closer than most. He'd hold your hand to drag you to his room, and vice versa. He'd let you drape his legs across him on the couch, or let him spin you around in a hug after his games.

He saw you more than middle school, his maturity hitting him slightly. He valued you, and you valued him, and that was one of the first things he'd ever known. This platonic relationship he held with you, was one of the things he cherished most. He wouldn't let anything get between you two, no matter what was to come in the future. He'd never let you go.

You on the other hand, immersed in studies and prepping for college, had turned a lot of hangouts into study dates. Which was okay with him, as long as you two got to see each other. He'd lounge in your room while you sat at your desk with a textbook and computer. He'd bring you food when your mom called that dinner was ready, knowing your academics had pulled you away from reality. His nurturing nature stayed the same.

You two had both gotten into different colleges, across the state. He got a football scholarship, and you got an academic scholarship at a prestigious college on the west side. You knew what was to come as the summer after senior year approached.

What you didn't know was to come, was your feelings towards him.

You didn't know when your hand holding started making your tummy flutter, or when his hands tracing patterns on your calves had you feeling flustered. Sure, he changed a lot in High School. He got muscular, grew his hair out, had more charm and appeal. He had girls swooning. But you? You never expected to be one of those girls.

Coming to terms with your feelings was definitely a task.

At first, it was jealousy. Jealousy towards the girls who were able to openly fawn over him, with Anakin relishing in the attention they bestowed on him. He loved living in this spotlight, and the rush he got when girls would whisper and giggle sentiments about him. He adored all of the looks and the eye fucks he would get in the halls. It was an ego boost.

You wished so terribly you could be one of those girls. The ones he'd kiss after his games, the ones who went out with him on Friday nights. You just weren't that girl.

Sophomore year came with heated jealousy, and Junior year came with longing. Senior year, you slowly came to terms with it. It wasn't until after graduation, when you relished in all the attention he would give you on summer days, that you fully realized what you were feeling. You had never had a boyfriend throughout all your years, academics taking priority over any man.

The beginning of summer was torture.

He was mindful of his last couple of months with you, giving you his full, undivided attention.

And you fucking loved it.

At the same time though, you hated it. The torment of the sudden affection you received, along with an endless stream of texts and calls when you two couldn't be together. It made your feelings all the more real, and you couldn't do it any longer.

You were then slowly trying to distance yourself, for your own sanity, to protect your feelings and soften the blow of college. You were frustrated, angry, and hurt all at the same time. It wasn't his fault, but your brain blamed him for all of it. You were starting to resent him, and hole up in your room, only coming out for meals and water. It had been this way for about a week now, in the middle of June, and the contrast from this to the way you were two weeks before was startling. Especially to Anakin.

❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥

Your mom, Lucille, was standing on her back porch per usual, pacing around her best friend, also known as Anakin's mom. Though she was across town, it wasn't far. A mere ten minute drive at most.

"I just don't know what's gotten into her, you know? One minute she's going out almost every day with Ani, the next she's- she's- god!"

Lucille was very annoyed, to say the least. The state she had found you in was worrying her, and her financial situation with college didn't assist in her anxiety.

"Did something happen between her and Ani?" Lucille pondered, quirking a brow up inquisitively at her friend, sighing. "Not that I know of. In fact, he's been asking about her," Shmi sighed heavily. "She might just be stressed about university, you know?"

"I know... but she normally comes to me about these things, Shmi! And now she's this void," Lucille sat down, wine sloshing in the glass.

Shmi rubbed her back, smiling softly. "Just be patient, Lucy, maybe try to have a heart to heart with her? Sit down with her," Shmi pondered.

"Yeah... yeah, sure. I'll do that," Lucille returned the soft expression Shmi reflected onto her, letting out a huff. "Can you come by tomorrow morning? I'll keep you updated," she asked, while Shmi rubbed her back.

"Of course. I'll head home, love you," Shmi replied, standing up and walking into the cool air of the house, watching the moonlight cast the house in a low glow. The hardwood floors leading to the front door were bleached from the sun, it's constant rays hitting the floor from the many windows in the home.

"Love you, too," Lucille wrapped her friend in a hug, wishing her off. "What to do," she looked at her feet, shutting and locking the door, heading upstairs to talk to you.

She heard soft music coming from your room, probably from the speaker Anakin had gifted you Junior year. She recognized the soft hum of your voice, and Lucille was then unsure if she wanted to disturb your peace. But, she knew it was for the better.

A soft knock resonated in the empty hallway, and she heard your hums stop, followed by your music. Your footsteps could be heard trekking to the door, that once opened, revealed darkness in your face.

Your bags were heavy, face devoid of any feeling as you tilted your head to the side, "Hey, what's up?" You muttered, avoiding eye contact with your mother.

"Can I come in?" Your mom requested, analyzing every feature you once held. It was sad, depressing, and a mess all in one. You straightened your spine, opening your door wider and flicking on the light. With no words, you sat on your bed, the white comforter all messy and tangled in an array of clothes; unfolded laundry you were too tired to do.

Your mother sat next to you, placing a hand on your back. "Is everything okay?"

"Mhm, why do you ask?" You force a smile, nodding your head. Your appearance spoke much differently though, along with the state of your bedroom. Your hair in a messy updo, and your clothes scattered around the carpet. Spandex and an oversized tee adorned your figure, hiding the body you once loved to dress up with random articles of clothing, a uniqueness reflected in your personality onto your style.

This wasn't you.

"You've been in your room for a few days now, what happened to your summer plans? The job you were looking for?" Lucille removed her hand, placing her cheek in her hand.

You again avoided eye contact, looking to your window. "I'm just tired, Mama," you replied in a hushed tone, chewing on your already scabbed lip.

"I know, hon, I know. But we're all worried. Me, Shmi, Anakin-"

At the mention of his name, you dropped your head again. Deep down, you knew it wasn't fair to anyone. But you couldn't help it. You'd rather put up your walls before letting yourself get hurt with a stupid crush. "It's okay, I promise," you again put up a facade.

"Is it me? Did I do something?" Your mother started to tear up, placing a hand on her chest. The last thing she'd ever want to do is hurt you. She had never seen this from you before, though.

You finally made eye contact, shaking your head rigorously. "No, of course not. I just need to sleep," you scrunched your nose, trying not to let the tears fall yourself.

"Okay... but if you need anything I'm here, alright?" Lucille stood up then, making her way out the door, shutting off the light on her way out.

In the absence of another person, you felt yourself rotting in self deprecation all over again. The mention of Anakin just hurt you all the more. You hated doing this, you really did, but crying for hours on end seemed to help, even in the slightest.

So, you sat back in your mess of sheets and blankets, music starting up again, as you scrolled through photos of you and Anakin over the years. Even looking at photos of him with girlfriends, his smile brighter than ever. Kisses on cheeks, arms around them in photos. A reminder of something you could never be to him. A hole was making its way into your heart, one that only he could fill, and you were devoid of any reciprocation to your feelings.

But, back at the Skywalker's residence, Shmi had come home, setting her keys on the rack, and plopping down on the couch with a soft thud. Even she was confused and frustrated, thinking of you as one of her own.

At the sound of the door opening, and footsteps, Anakin came tumbling down the stairs, excited to see his mom after a long day of work, knowing she went to your house immediately after her shift.

She perked up at the noise, laying back and turning on the TV. "Hello, Ani," she yelled to the hallway, as he came walking towards the living room.

"Hey, Mom! How was your day?" He asked, setting himself next to Shmi, leaning back in the cushions. His hair was damp from a shower, clad in a black tee and plaid pants.

"It was good, stopped by Lucille's after work," she muttered, with him letting out a chuckle in response. "Assumed so, it's around ten— you're normally not out this late unless it's Lucille's," he nodded. "Did you see Y/N?" He then asked, turning his head to face Shmi.

"No... I didn't. Have you heard from her at all?" Shmi frowned, watching him shake his head and loll it back on the couch, a sigh escaping his lips. "No, I haven't. I'm worried, you know? Did I do something?" He asked, looking for some sort of answer. Your absence was sudden, and no matter how many times he'd call or text, you wouldn't respond. Your location stayed the same as well, the icon staying on your house, so he knew you weren't busy. He didn't want to intrude though, and push boundaries, but he truly had no idea what was going on with you. And it hurt him.

"I don't think so, she's avoiding Lucy as well," Shmi looked at her son quickly while she channel surfed, finding something to hopefully fall asleep to on the plush tan cushions.

Anakin sighed, standing up. "Tell Lucille I'll be over tomorrow, okay? I'll see if I can figure it out, might be too personal to tell her mom about," Anakin assured Shmi, standing up to make his way up the stairs.

"Okay," Shmi replied simply, feeling sleep overtake her soon enough.

Anakin, though, made his way up the stairs, racing to his phone. He pulled up your contact again, pressing the call button, and listening to the same ringing tone that he's heard for the past week bounce off of the walls of his room.

He sighed when it hit your voicemail, the sound of your once cheery self beginning to speak. He hadn't heard your voice in so long, it ached and left him confused. "Tomorrow," he told himself.

He'd see you tomorrow, no matter what it took.

Tomorrow didn't come soon enough, though, leaving Anakin tossing and turning in his sleep. He was so, so tired, so worried, and so anxious about what would happen. He had no idea if he had done something wrong, his brain relentlessly bullying him with 'what if's'. He kept waking up in cold sweats, eyebrows furrowed with concern for you. He cherished you like a lifeline, and he felt like he was slipping away as you did from him. When morning came, he had bags under his eyes, and his hair was tousled with the constant running of his hands through his hair throughout the night. He didn't know what if it went wrong today, or if you gave no response and shut yourself off.

He didn't even eat, too sick to his stomach to do so, waving a small, "bye," to his mother before slipping into his car, and Shmi had sent a text to Lucille as he left.

Shmi

He's on the way.

Lucy

Alright, she's awake. Ty for sending him over 😘

Shmi

Anytime. Want to come over while they talk, give them a little space?

Lucy

On my way.

And with that, Lucille had left her own home, knocking on your door and letting you know where she was going. You had hummed in response, getting into the shower, preparing to repeat the cycle of bed-rot you had created in the recent days.

The water soothed you, hot streams battering on your back as you sunk into the tiled floor. The speaker still let out hushed instrumentals and lyrics of your playlist, allowing you to wallow in your feelings. Not even washing your hair, or your body, you simply laid there. Tears were scarce at this point, not able to flow down your cheeks, as you looked at yourself in your naked state.

You doubted Anakin could ever, ever, love something like this in the way you loved him.

It was honestly sickening, in your opinion, how you destroyed yourself over him. Promises to him left unkept, and your friendship flowed down the drain, following the stream of the water. The sad, angry music you hummed along to only allowed for your wallowing to fester into an ugly knot in your stomach.

Some Phoebe Bridgers lyric had you leaning on the wall, closing your eyes. Too many years wasted. Too many tears shed over Anakin.

As the song was reaching its peak, you were oblivious to the sleek, black jeep that pulled into your driveway. Your room perched in the back of the house, anyway, so it was hard to hear over the shower and the music, along with your own humming. You were unaware of the unlocking of your front door, which Anakin had a key to, and the sound of his footsteps bustling up the stairs of your home. Which would have been bad, had it been an intruder, but it was just your good ol' Anakin.

As he made his way up the stairs, he heard the music in the shower, and the sound of your voice, the murmurs of lyrics you sang along to. He also heard the familiar pattering of your bathroom, having also showered here one too many times after games. Your bathroom was attached to your room, and he didn't want to disrupt, so he simply opened your door and sat on your bed.

When he walked in though, he was shocked. Your entire safe space was in disarray, a mirror of your emotions. If there was one thing about you, though, it was that you were a tad bit messy, but never this bad. He frowned at the thought, and decided to lay back on your messy bed, pulling out his phone to check the time. You should be out soon right?

But as fifteen minutes passed, he was getting impatient. He strolled up to your door, knocking softly.

"Mom, I thought you were at Shmi's?" Your voice was raspy, and quieter than normal, a pang resonating in his heart.

"It's me," he softly said, hand on the door.

You were struck with shock, sitting up immediately, feeling guilty and overwhelmed suddenly.

"I'm busy, come back later?" You pleaded, hoping to avoid him. But if anything, Anakin was persistent, and when he says he's doing to do something, he'll do it. Your brain had hoped silently that he'd take it, making his way out, so you wouldn't have to face him.

He shook his head, "No. We need to talk, now. Are you almost done?" he inquired, leaning his side on the door now, dragging his fingertips over the ridges of the wooden door. You didn't respond, and he didn't hear any movement, so he continued to press. "I swear to God, Y/N, I'll come in there if I have to."

Fear struck your veins, and you stayed silent, hoping he'd go away. "We can talk later, I'm busy," you simply replied, shaking your head at his perseverance. You always adored that about him, but now was a bad time for him to do so. Now, you wanted him gone. He was no longer your sanctuary, but a cause of fear and pain to you. Knowing him, though, he wouldn't stop.

And you were right.

You heard the handle jiggle a little bit, before a groan was let out behind the door. "There is no need to lock the door in your own home," he sighed, turning back to your room. A bobby pin should work, right?

"It's to prevent people from coming in, y'know, like you're trying to do," you rolled your eyes and scoffed, borders and walls making their way back up. You heard his footsteps walking away from the door, letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding. One obstacle down, right?

But then, you heard the jiggling of the doorknob again, and the click of the lock, and a sense of alarm surged through your veins. "I'm coming in," he announced sternly, before you heard the creak of your bathroom door opening. He had successfully found your bobby pins littered around your vanity, from various updo's you'd style your hair with during school. For a second, he was glad for the mess, which allowed him to find it so easily.

"I'm naked!" You screeched, though the shower curtain covered anything he could possibly see.

He chuckled, scoffing, "I've seen you before," he sarcastically uttered, hands finding purchase on the counter behind him, facing the curtain. The only barrier between you and him in the current moment.

"Yeah, when we were four, asshole," you shot back defensively, groaning at his antics. You still continued to attempt to avoid him, dragging out your shower for as long as possible.

Anakin grabbed the towel off of the seat, reaching into the curtain to shut the water off. "Get out," he demanded, "or I will personally come in there and wrap you in the towel myself," his aggression didn't go unnoticed, knowing now that something was definitely wrong between you and him.

"Fuck, fine," you sneered, standing up and reaching out for your towel, which he handed to you through the curtain. You stood up, wrapping yourself, and peeking through the curtain. Shit, he still looked as beautiful as ever. Even more than the photos you would look at while letting sobs escape your lips. He wore a white ribbed tank top, paired with gray sweatpants, hung low on his hips. He looked like a mess himself, curly hair frayed at his neck, sticking to the skin from the steam.

He raised a brow, looking away in respect for you. "Go get changed, I'll wait here," he muttered, allowing you to be at least respectable before he confronted you. As a result, you zoomed past him, quickly grabbing a pair of drawstring shorts and a hoodie, knowing you wouldn't have to waste time on a bra if you were in something baggier. After slipping into your clothes in your closet, you opened up the bathroom door again, and he followed you forward to the center of your room.

He eyed you up and down, finally taking in your features and your state. Though your hair was dripping wet, he didn't miss the puffy circles around your eyes and the split lip you often had when you worried about something too much. His face softened, ever so slightly, as you sat on the bed in front of him, while he continued to stand in front of your figure.

He broke the silence as soon as you sat, "Y/N..." Anakin muttered, folding his hands across his chest in front of you. You gulped, picking at the strings hanging loose from your shorts, "what's so important that you had to interrupt my shower for?"

"You act like you were doing something important. You've been ignoring everyone for days now," he began, eyeing you up and down as you fidgeted and avoided his eyes. Those damn eyes.

"I was, I was showering. Hygiene is important, Anakin," you retorted, turning your head to the window on your left.

"You know what I mean," he opened up his stance, running a hand through his hair. You hardly ever called him Anakin anymore, just Ani. The fact that you used his first name sent shivers down his spine.

"What do you mean?" You inquired, acting oblivious, hoping he'd leave and let you go back to your previous state. Though, as mentioned, when Anakin was determined to do something, he'd do it.

He took a step closer to you, peering down, "You've been avoiding me for days now. Everyone, for days now," he pouted slightly. "You promised you'd tell me everything, so what's going on? You know I don't judge," he assured you, getting down to face you, sitting cross legged on the carpet of your room.

"It's nothing, I promise," You said the same thing you've told your mother consistently. "It's nothing," you repeated.

"It's not nothing, if it's got you like this," he tried to smile warmly, show you he was there, to bring comfort, to bring peace to your mind. "Yeah, well, it's not something I'd like to share with you."

Now that stung, a pain radiating in his very bones, your words leaving him stunned momentarily. You shared almost everything with him. Everything that ever stressed you, he'd hug you and distract you until you were a laughing and smiling disaster. You had never been so closed off, so defensive.

Unknowingly, unintentionally, he shot back, "I've given you every piece of me to show you how open I am, and you can't do the same back? What happened to you?"

Venom laced his voice, making you finally face him. It made the blow all the more easier, while it also gave you a heartache you couldn't possibly fathom. "Life happened, Anakin. We're no longer silly teenagers living our lives, we're adults. We're growing apart," you let your arms fall to your sides, helpless to the heat and tension growing between you two.

"We're about to go off to college, and I've been spending every waking moment with you. We didn't just drift, something changed. I'm trying my hardest to be here, you know? Support you, give you a hand, and you won't even open up," he shifted uncomfortably, sensing an argument arising, which has never before occurred between the two of you.

"It's nothing you can help, Anakin. It's out of your control, so leave it be, and get out," you persisted.

"Get out? Get out?" He shot straight up, standing up in front of you, inching closer to your balled up figure facing him. "You don't kick me out of a place that is basically my second home," he raised his voice, causing you to stand up to face him at the same time.

Before you could speak though, he continued his banter, "So you admit something is wrong," he pointed to your chest, jabbing your collarbone while he spoke the words, voice booming out in the silence of your bedroom. Your stance was less defensive now, as he slowly broke down the barrier, and he continued, yet again.

"I told you, it's nothing you can help with," you replied with a hushed, raspy voice, not wanting to bicker.

"Just tell me what it is, then? Is it school? Because while I may not be as smart as you, I have damn well studied for hours on end with you. I have given up movie nights, going out with you, for all of that shit. You're perfectly fine. You're set. You've got a scholarship, and you'll be fine!"

He continued to step closer to you, closing the space ever so slowly, as you shrunk under his words. "If it's your daddy, fine! But I watched the divorce, the split happen. I watched as you were torn between your parents, and held your hand through that!"

"So tell me, Y/N, what is different this time around?"

Your throat was dry, not wanting to respond, everything seeming so stupid now. How were you supposed to admit, right to his face, it was him? Anakin, the one who held you, the one who made you laugh, the one making you cry yourself to sleep.

"Is it boy troubles? Because I haven't seen any man swoop down and carry you in his arms, and I would have heard about it from your mom. You haven't told her shit, either. So it's got to be pressing you, huh? Just let it out!"

He continued his verbal attacks on you, his frustrations from everything being let out on you. You wanted to shrink back, run away, but there was nowhere to go. Your gut was churning, bubbling, as a sob almost escaped your throat. "You wouldn't get it!"

"Yeah, I don't fucking get it because you won't tell anyone what's wrong," he immediately responded, again taking another step closer. You swatted the hand that was on your chest away, pushing him back from the close proximity. He stumbled, catching his balance, before turning to the side and letting out a low chuckle. "I see."

He saw the polaroids of you and him, laying on your nightstand, shaking his head, "It's me, huh? What the hell did I do? Just tell me," he almost begged, yelling at the top of his lungs at this point. You glanced back and let tears finally escape your eyes, sniffling from the flow. He noticed, slightly softening, as you began to yell back, finally breaking the dam.

"It is you, idiot! Everything about you. The way you laugh, the way you smile at girls like they're everything to you, bring them home at night to cuddle and hold them. It's the way you style your hair, and the way you saunter with your huge fucking ego!"

Oh, now he was confused. You despised his guts because of the way he was? Always has been?

"And you know- you know, I wish I was one of those girls! But you've never even looked at me that way, Anakin! That's the issue! That you've been so oblivious to the way I've wanted you, turning around and fucking other girls while I wait at home for your text that you're safe! It's all of it, Anakin," you let out a choked sob in the midst of your sentence, looking him directly in the eyes, "You go around and play football and don't even give me a sideways glance in the stands! It's so, so wrong to feel this way about you, someone I'm just supposed to care about. But no, I fucking love you, Anakin, and it hurts, it hurts so much. You sit and flirt with the cheerleaders in the cafeteria, giving them kisses on their temples and wrapping your arm around them, in public! But I will never, ever, be one of those girls to you. I will always be the best friend. I will never get to feel you longing for me, and never get to feel you loving me the same! That's what's wrong!"

You finished, letting out a huff, and realizing what you had done. Anakin stayed silent, processing your words, mouth open in shock. You were so terrified, yet so relieved that you had let everything out all at once. You knew now that you had crossed a line, broken a border down in your relationship with him. It had turned from sweet, innocent bliss, to rage and despair, mixed with love and fury. You knew you could never come back from this, back from the words that flew out of your mouth. You were desperate for him, and you would worship the ground he walked on if it meant you could receive one backwards glance held with the passion he held for the other women. But you knew you'd never get that, and you'd spend all of your life searching for a person to fill the hole he created in your heart, but never quite filling it up fully. It would be like a bandaid, covering it up temporarily, but the wound would still exist. It would still rot underneath your skin.

"You mean it?" Anakin simply said, words quiet, as he took a step towards you again, looking into what felt like your soul.

"Every goddamn word."

As soon as the curse left your lips, he grabbed you so swiftly, so tenderly, colliding his body with yours as his breath fanned across your lips, waiting for you to say no. You froze instinctively, still coming to terms with the fact that his hand was laid on the small of your back, the other placed on the back of your head, inching you closer. Before you knew it, the feeling of his lips encompassed yours, with unspoken feelings reverberating through the action. You immediately kissed back, gripping his shirt with the arms in front of you, pulling him instinctively closer. He pushed your frame impossibly close to his, wrapping his arm tighter around you, clutching onto the hoodie you wore.

His hand had gripped your sopping wet hair, earning a small noise elicited from your mouth into his, leaving his kiss softening in satisfaction. It was filled with need, hunger, and years of built up frustration. He handled you so softly, as if you would break, tears still streaming down your cheeks. A sob wracked your chest again, causing him to pull away.

"How in the world could you think I could never love you?" He questioned, bringing you into a hug. You continued to clutch his chest, squeezing your eyes shut. He gingerly set you down to sit in front of him, while he kneeled between your legs. His hands were placed on your knees, looking up at you, as if you were a goddess bestowed upon him.

"I'm not them. I'm not the cheerleaders, or the dancers, or the athletes you date. Look at me, Ani," you grabbed onto his hands, squeezing. His expression showed guilt, love, and anger. Anger at himself, for ever making you feel like this. For ever making you feel like you were the second option, and that he could never adore you. Because for years, he has.

"Oh, honey, you are so much more than them," he brought a hand up to cup your cheek. "I have loved you for so long, I can't believe you ever felt this way," he mumbled, kissing your knees after he uttered the sentiment. "You are everything to me."

He wiped the tears off of your cheeks with his hand, raising himself on his knees slightly. "I'm so sorry I ever made you feel that way, because you are my first and forever love."

"You mean it?" You mocked him, your normal attitude coming back to life. He grinned like a cheshire cat, watching you beam back in the midst of tears.

"Every goddamn word," he mocked back, grabbing your hands and placing kisses on them, "you could never compare to any other girl. You are worth so much more to me, I promise. You are my sun and my moon, my stars, I revolve around you. I love you, so much," he praised you, placing one of your hands on his cheek.

You began to cry again, tears of happiness this time, knowing it was okay.

"No, no, don't cry baby, please," he kneeled up, know facing you directly. "You're too pretty to cry."

You shook your head in disbelief, looking down at your lap.

He kisses your forehead, softly, bringing you close to him. "I'm so sorry," he profusely apologized. He left kisses down the side of your face, peppering you, before meeting your lips again, where you wrapped your arms around his neck as he hunched over. He never once disconnected your kiss as he hooked his hands under your thighs, pushing you back on the bed and under him. The kiss grew more needy, more desperate, as his hands rubbed your outer thighs, guiding them to wrap around his waist. As you did so, you pulled him down closer to you, your two bodies moving in sync with love, care, and adoration.

You tugged on his hair, making him grunt softly into your mouth, making you giggle slightly. "What was that, hm?" You mumbled into the kiss. You honestly were lost with what you were doing, your first kiss taking place on the playground at recess, and had never gone as far as to continue kissing someone.

"God— you, Y/N," he pulled away, looking at you from above, the locks of hair falling from his head, caressing his jaw. He scanned your face for any hesitance, any doubts, and in finding none, he leaned back down, caressing your arms in the process.

"Wait, Ani," you stopped him before his lips could meet yours, bringing one hand to trace along his jaw. "I've never done anything like this before," you mumbled, partially out of embarrassment and nervousness. He had then begun to pull away fully, out of respect for you, before you trapped his hips in with your calves, pulling him back down.

"We don't have to do anything, I promise, I don't expect anything from you, nothing— I swear," he promised, grinning at you from above. "I want you to feel as comfortable as possible," he told you, realization hitting him that you most likely had never done anything beyond kissing, and he didn't want to pressure you into anything you wouldn't want.

"No, that's not what I mean. Ani, I want to," you told him, the heat growing between your bodies, his sweatpants and your shorts being a soft barrier between what could occur.

"You want to?" He questioned, anticipation almost hurting him in his core. You were willing to give him one of the most treasured, most vulnerable parts of yourself, to him, and he couldn't quite fathom that.

"Yes. Anakin, I've always wanted to do this with you, since I knew I fell in love," you leaned up to kiss his cheek, then you kissed the shell of his ear, whispering, "let me be yours."

With that, he bent down to kiss you again, gentle hands and tender touches. "I'll be careful, and tell me if you want to stop at any point, okay?"

You nodded, bringing him back down to you, yet again, as the kiss grew heated. His tongue swiped along your bottom lip, allowing you to open your mouth, letting his own wrap around yours and explore your mouth. The feeling itself was sensational, and you wished you had confessed sooner. Your hips bucked up to meet his, knowing only clothing separated you two. You reached down to tug on his shirt, enticing him.

He sat up, ripping his shirt off quickly, and you took the time to admire him. While you had seen it many times throughout the years, you couldn't get enough, knowing this was the man who loved you, who adored you, who pledged himself to you. Your hand traced along his abdomen, and up his chest, with slow circles and movements.

He looked down to you and your hoodie for permission, to which you grew embarrassed and shy. He stopped, again, tracing his hand along your hip, "What's wrong?"

"I'm not wearing a bra, Ani," you muttered with embarrassment, and he looked at you inquisitively at the fact. "Honey, do you know—"

You interrupted him, mid laugh, "Yes, I know, I'm just nervous. My body, and uh—"

You were cut off, almost immediately, with a tut from him. "You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen. I promise," he told you, looking at you as if you'd break with a single touch or glance.

You nodded, beginning to lift your shirt up yourself, before he stopped you, kissing you and setting your wrists down. "Let me show you how much I love you," he told you, so sincerely, that you felt your body heat up and tense.

His fingers found the bottom of the garment, beginning to lift it over your head, as you lifted your arms up for him to slip it off of you.

He could have practically cum at the sight.

He was met with your soft skin, only for him to see, and his sweatpants tightened ever so slightly. Your breasts splayed out, tummy revealed, and it was all for him. Would forever only be for Anakin.

He kissed you again as you held him, trailing pecks down your cheek, and to your neck, where he suckled the skin and nibbled. You whimpered quietly, never having even thinking you could let out anything from kisses.

"You're so, so beautiful. Sculpted by the gods themselves, I swear. If I could worship a statue of you at a temple, I could," he whispered into your collarbone, moving his pecks downward. You became inherently flustered at his words, a garbled mess, until his breath was fanning in between your sternum. His palms found your ribs, inching upward to your breasts, thumb teasing over your nipple. The contact jolted you, overly sensitive and becoming needy for him to make love to you.

"So divine, I swear," he spoke over your nipple, before his mouth latched onto it, suckling like it would be the last thing he ever tasted. Yet, at the same time, it was so pure. Merciful whimpers left your garbled throat, hands tugging on the hair at the nape of his neck.

He switched over to the other breast, the other one being caressed with his saliva coating it, hardening at the contact. He let his teeth drag along the peak, almost teasingly, before kissing the bud and moving downwards.

He moved down to your tummy, kissing all over. His tongue licked a stripe from your sternum to your navel, then kissing the skin above your shorts. "No matter how insecure you are, your tummy is perfect," he mumbled into the skin, teeth gently grazing the skin as he sweet talked into your skin, lust filling his eyes as he made eye contact with you from above him.

"Anakin, I need you," you muttered, not able to hold the eye contact as he sat between your legs, where you needed him most. He smirked, nodding as he did so, "I know, baby, just wanna take my sweet time with you," he spoke, so close to your core, where your desire lingered for him. He could practically taste it as well, bending down lower, his teeth biting on the waistband of the fabric, slowly pulling it down. His other hand met the other hip, assisting in his teasingly slow antics. He shimmied the shorts off, looking back to where you laid underneath him. He adored you, to say the least, and the way you're looking at him as him twitching in his pants. Desire and need are painted all over your expression, as he finally looked down to your panties.

He noticed the damp spot on the gray cotton, his mind going crazy. He did this to you. God, he loved it.

He kissed the wet spot, earning a small noise that strangled it's way out your mouth. Those damn noises to him, would be the death of Anakin himself. He then looked up, "Is this okay?" He questioned, wanting to make sure you were alright more than anything.

"Yes, please, Ani," you begged, watching him then tauntingly pull the fabric down your hips. Before looking, he begins to kiss the inside of your thighs, tongue dragging along the plush of the skin. The freckles and moles and scars, everything, he was taking in as he tasted you. It was perfect to him. You are perfect. He wanted to make sure you knew that as well, his attention switching to the other leg, repeating the same tantalizing licks and nips and kisses, sucking gently as he got closer to your center, leaving light hickeys and eliciting noises from you.

He then made eye contact with where you needed him most, a small sigh of his breath leaving a tingling sensation for you. "All of this, for me? You're too good to me," he spoke, before taking his first lick, a stripe from your entrance to your clit, groaning at the taste of you. "Y'taste so heavenly, honey, please," he begged for nothing, knowing he already had you as putty in his hands. You fell limp as he pressed a damp kiss to your clit, using one hand to pull back your folds for him. You were glistening with desire, leaking onto your sheets. He was disappointed he couldn't take the chance to lick it up off of the sheets, your hole twitching and practically clenching at this point.

He began his attacks on you, slow and steady, trying not to overwhelm you. Moans began to fill the room, letting him know he was doing a good job, only using his tongue at this point. "S'good," you spoke out, and he hummed in response, smiling in his head. All he wants is to make you feel good. This is an apology, devotion, and need all in one.

The vibrations sent shivers up your spine, fingers clutching the sheets beside you. His other hand was keeping your legs apart, the incessant twitching making him rut into the end of the bed. This wasn't about him though, this was about you.

His tongue prodded your entrance, scooping up whatever was leaking out, and he swallowed it graciously. "You're doing so well, my love," he praised. You hummed in response, not being able to form coherent words, even though he was the one with his mouth occupied. The hand spreading your folds twisted, allowing for his thumb to start slow, gentle circles around your clit.

"Is this good? Do you feel good, darling?" He asked, looking up to you as you nodded feverishly, in a haze of love and lust all at once. Your brain was clouded with the pleasure of Anakin between your legs, lapping you up like you were his final meal on death row. His thumb circling your nub, and his tongue swirling around your walls, gummy and slick with his saliva and your desire. He loved every second of it, your squirming and your hips rolling on his mouth, suffocating him in the best way possible.

His thumb began to speed up, and your hands found their way to his hair, pulling him closer and gripping on for dear life. And he hasn't even inserted fingers yet.

The heat between your legs grew stronger, as minutes passed of torturous circles and slow licks and prods, before you begged for him more. "Fingers, something, Ani," you managed to make out some words, jello and oozing into his palms and mouth. He chuckled at your eagerness, now using his hand he was using to hold your legs apart to wrap your legs behind his back, heels digging into the muscular blades of his shoulders. A single digit slowly entered you, curling inside, arching your back off of the sheets. His tongue moved up to your clit, suctioning the bud, and gently nibbling as his finger began a new pace. It was steady, almost leisurely, as he inserted a second finger, scissoring at your entrance. You were so, so tight, and it was heavenly to him. "Ani, faster, please," you commanded, and he damn well listened like an obedient dog, picking up the pace and curling inside of you each time, his thick fingers searching for the spot that would make you see stars. One your own fingers could hardly reach.

As he sped up and became more passionate with it, your legs trembled from overwhelming excitement and anticipation. You felt the knot beginning to form, one you had only reached on your own, while always thinking of this. Your moans became more strangled and raspy, his mouth never leaving his assault on your clit, and his fingers squelching from your wetness between your legs. The smell, the taste, everything was undeniably delicious to him. This was his Y/N, the one he pined after for so long, the girl of his dreams.

Your pussy began to ache, an overwhelming sense of your release approaching. With whatever you could make out, you uttered in a strangled mess, "C-cum, Ani, 'M gonna."

He began to get more aggressive with his suckles, and his eyes looked up to your expression as your breasts shook with every breath you took, head lolled back from the craving you had- no, the need you had for him. He felt your walls clench around him as your release was coming, his eyes never leaving you. "Good girl, I wanna see that pretty face look at me while you cum," he quickly reattached his mouth to you, the words themselves making your orgasm hit you like a trainwreck. Your eyes never left his, though they rolled into the back of your head momentarily. He felt the flutter, and the clenching of your legs around his head as you finished, his mouth licking up the last of you as he finally pulled away. "You did so well, baby. We can stop here if you want," he assured you, licking his fingers clean as he leaned up to cup your face and kiss your neck.

"I want to feel you inside of me," your lips were flush and swollen from the kissing and biting you had done, and your checks were splotched with redness as he nodded. "Fuck, you're so perfect," he guaranteed your utmost comfortability and contentment. "If you're sure."

He began to pull down his boxers and sweats in a swift motion with one hand, the other propping him up so he could kiss your cheeks sweetly and with care. "You're doing amazing."

You grinned and kissed him, tasting yourself on his lips eagerly. Sweat beaded your foreheads, but the mess created never stopped either of you from continuing. He kissed your forehead, then both of your cheeks, before dragging his lips down to the corner of your mouth. He pulled away momentarily, hands reaching down to stretch you with his fingers. You glanced down to below his navel, and holy shit, was he big.

"It'll fit?" You questioned, your naïveté getting the best of you in the moment.

He chuckled, grinning and looking down at you waiting for him. He took a mental picture, analyzing every possible detail of your bare skin, and the way you looked right now. He was infatuated with you before, but this sight under him, left precum leaking from his tip. His fantasies could have never compared to this sight of him between your legs. "Yes, it will. It'll hurt at first, okay? And tell me to slow down or stop at any point, promise?"

You nodded your head eagerly, "I promise," so grateful for the way he was praising and taking care of your needs over his.

He kissed you again, dragging his tip along your folds. The red and swollen cock in front of you had you nearly drooling, but you decided to save that for another point in time.

"Are you ready?" He asked tenderly, kissing along your neck, tapping your clit with the head of his cock. "Yes, please," you chanted over and over again, like a prayer on your lips.

He let out a quiet hum, slowly pressing his tip into your folds. It slowly slipped past your entrance, earning a hiss from between your teeth.

"Are you okay?" Anakin immediately asked, though not pulling out, so he could look you in the eye, his gaze wavering slightly.

"Mhm, just hurts," you felt tears prick the corner of your eyes, and Anakin knows you've never been someone with a high pain tolerance. "Shh, it's okay, I've got you," he comforted you, pressing a small kiss to your lips, waiting for you to nod to continue. It didn't matter that even your entrance was gripping him like a fucking vice, he wanted you to feel as safe and pleasured as possible.

You made eye contact with him, nodding slowly, as he pushed in a little more, your hands finding his biceps, caged around your head, nails digging into his skin and leaving welts. It hurts, but you expected it. And there was nobody else in all the universe you would rather give your virginity to, just Anakin himself.

"You're doing such a great job, taking me so well," he smiled, hoping his voice would bring you a sense of oasis in the middle of his cock piercing through your insides. "Think you can take a little more?"

You nodded, as one hand reached down to press on your thigh, as he felt your pussy clench him so tightly, knowing you were his. Made for him. "Relax, it'll help it hurt less baby, I promise," he told you, rubbing sweet circles on your leg.

He felt your body loosen up, and he was able to bottom out into you, and his tip kissed your walls, a whimper of pain and pleasure entering his mouth from the kiss he gave you. "Good girl," he whispered into your mouth, making sure he was to never break eye contact in this moment. It was so pure, so sinful, and such a precious moment. He was lingering inside of you, movements stilled, no matter how badly he wanted to pound into you until you were crying into the sheets. You bucked your hips up, enticing him to move, and he got the memo.

It wasn't full throttled thrusts, but slow and lazy pumps in and out of you, waiting for the pain to subside. He felt so amazing inside of you, with your warmth and wetness connecting you both. The closest he could ever get to you, and he never thought he would be here. He was savoring every clench, every thrust, and every moment like it would be his last. Because it was you, and he loved you so dearly, he wanted this to be perfect for you.

Your back arched, your pussy twitched around him, all the while he was still slowly going in and out. It was celestial, the way you moaned and let out slurred words of his name, eyes half lidded and already looking fucked out, a devious and wanton expression he'd commit to memory. "Ani," you made out, grabbing the hand on your leg and placing it on your core. He understood, starting to rub spirals under the red and swollen hood of your clit, picking up his pace. Then, the pain has completely subsided, turning into seraphic pleasure, his eyebrows creating a wrinkle as they furrowed. His own pants and grunts left his lips, chest heaving from the bliss he was subdued in. He was immersed in you completely, mentally and physically. You looked so angelic, even godly, as your bodies connected in the most unholy way possible.

He had waited too long for this.

Your warm and inviting, virgin pussy, saved all for him. And now you were underneath him, his cock filling every inch of you, and each time he bottomed out his tip would meet your cervix, but not hard enough to hurt you. He treasured you, wanting the moment to last as long as possible.

"Faster, Ani, I'm okay," you rested your hand on his head, pushing his hair out of his eyes, as he tried so hard to contain himself so you could feel loved for every second of it. He got off on you feeling so cherished under him, and you had never felt more adoration than in the present.

He listened though, picking him his pace, hips snapping so scrumptiously against you. You could hardly moan anymore, and you broke the eye contact, head rolling back and hitting your pillows from the amount of satisfaction you gained. He took the opportunity to look down at where your bodies met, watching his length slide in and out of you, coated in the sticky sweetness of your serene need for him. His eyes glanced over your body, watching as your tits bounced with every jolt of his body, and he almost creamed at the very sight. He was going to wait though, until you came, to ever think of cumming.

"S'well, baby, you feel so good wrapped around me. You're so beautiful, God. I could do this for hours," he praised you, feeling your pussy clench around him at the simple, yet overwhelming words. The way the plush of your thighs jiggled with every little movement, and the way your tummy followed with. He was encompassed in serenity for every second of it.

"M'gonna cum," you mustered out, warning him of your second release, building quicker than the prior one. "Go ahead, my love, whenever you feel like it," he said between pants and grunts, thumb still circling around your clit as he felt you get all the more tighter.

He sped up his pace, shifting his body to the right, the angle directly hitting that spongey spot inside of you that had you seeing stars. Your hands began to dig into his shoulders, the knot tightening. He could tell, watching as your thighs clenched and you let out the most wanton cry of his name, cumming around his cock.

The feeling and satisfaction of you finishing left him close to his own release, pulling your head down to look at him. "'S it okay if- fuck- I cum?"

"Cum in me, Ani, fill me up," you assured him, still whimpering from overstimulation and groaning at the feeling of him fucking your cum back into you.

His breaths were shakier, turning into soft whimpers and groans as you felt his thrusts grow messy, and soon still, feeling a gush of warmth inside of you, filling you to the brim. He stayed there for a moment, sighing as his cock softened, not wanting to pull out and disconnect from you in the most intimate way possible. He knew he had to though, as he pulled out slowly, leaving you feeling empty and lost.

You let out a breath of air, leaning up to kiss him. He happily obliged, rubbing sweet patterns along your hips, tracing the dips and curves with his index finger, soothing you after your release.

He leaned up quickly, making you feel cold, empty, and lost. Was he already leaving?

But no, he came back with a warm washcloth, leaning between your legs again. He came face to face with your cum and his load leaking out of you, beginning to drag wet and sloppy kisses on your knees as he ever so gently wiped up what was leaking out of you, and the mess and sweat off of your thighs. The residue piled along the fabric, which he then wiped his soft cock with, running back to your bathroom to throw it in the hamper. He crawled back into bed with you as you turned over on your side, the room smelling of sex and love.

"I'm so proud of you, you did so well," he told you, wrapping an arm around you and bringing you close to him, so you could lay your head on his chest. His palm rubbed along the small of your back, tracing up your spine.

"Thank you, I don't think I could have asked for someone better to do it with," you smiled, an after sex glow making you all the more beautiful to him.

"Does this mean you're my boyfriend now?" You asked, and a dumbfounded expression was plastered on Anakin's face, causing you to worry momentarily.

"I would assume so, but only if you'll have me," he spoke into your hair, bare and naked bodies intertwined under the cold sheets. "Of course I'll have you," you comforted him, hands tracing the curve of his biceps. "You're my forever, Anakin."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

#anakin skywalker x reader #hayden christensen x reader #modern!anakin #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x female reader #best friend!anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker angst #star wars #hayden christensen smut

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flippinpancakes64 · 3 months ago

Note

Hey, i love ur works. I was wondering if i could request the Cullens with a reader who’s really good with children and is also a kindergarten/elementary school teacher. Thank u💞 Hope you have a nice day

The Cullens with a Reader who’s good with Kids

I apologize ahead of time for any inaccuracies here. There are no children around me and I do not go seek them out either. Me and kids do not mix…

Anyways thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy!

Edward:

We don’t really know how he feels about kids before the birth of Renesmee

I mean obviously he loves her, but we don’t know if that’s because he loves kids or just because she’s his daughter

Either way I feel like he would be good with them

He would love to come help you with your students anytime you want him to

He loves setting up little games for them to play and reading to them

And he loves how good you are with kids

It just makes him go crazy

And then he gets stuck in that spot of wanting a kid with you. It not wanting to put you through what Bella went through

But that’s a whole different topic

He does have a moment of self doubt

He thinks you should be with someone who is alive and who could give you kids (if you want them)

Not someone who’s dead and could only hurt you

But he does get over himself

Eventually

Until then he helps you in your classes

All of your students love him btw

Alice:

You know those videos on tiktok of elementary school teachers going all out decorating their classrooms?

Alice is making you do that whether you want to or not

She’s buying all of the streamers, decorations, and posters she can find

She has so much fun with it

And she LOVES to dress you up in colorful outfits

If you’re a man or a woman or anything in between it doesn’t matter

Cause you are gonna wear this rainbow sweater no matter what

And I have a feeling she’s really good with kids too

She’s never had a really strong desire to have any, but she loves to hang out with them when they’re around

She helps out in your classroom as much as she can

And if that help is just making sure your streamers are up to fire code… who’s keeping track anyway

Jasper:

This man is scared of kids

There was one time where he was just walking through a park with Alice and a kid tripped and scraped his knee

He almost went ballistic

Kids are so unpredictable and such a danger to themselves and other kids

Way too prone to bleeding for him to be comfortable

So he’s always on edge around them

Not to mention he’s always awkward

He doesn’t know what to talk about

He was in your room once and a kid was trying to play with him and he just… sat there

Bro is lost

Tried talking about the weather to one of your kids once too

It’s best to keep him away

He’s more than willing to help decorate your room though

And grade tests if you’re getting a bit swamped

It’s just in everyone’s best interest if he’s only in your classroom after hours

Rosalie:

Do I even need to elaborate

She is THE woman for the job

We all know she loves kids, and if what we saw of her with Renesmee proves anything, she’s great with them too

So this is literally the perfect arrangement

She loves kids

She’s not able to be around kids often

You show up

You are literally an elementary school teacher

Perfect match

She comes over literally every time that she can

And since there’s nothing technically holding her back, that’s pretty often

She poses as your student teacher in order to be there all the time

Really, she’s great with them

And she loves it

And the fact that you love kids and are great with them too instantly puts you at #1 on her list

Emmett:

I feel like he’s also great with kids

They love him

I mean, when you’re a kid, what’s better than the guy who can swing you around

Very few things tbh

The boys in your class especially love him

They love arm wrestling or racing him

He lets them win of course

He mostly shows up at your classroom around recess

But hey at least he gets all of their energy out before they need to sit down more

He’s also not someone who dreams about having kids

But if you want them, then he’s all for it

As long as you’re either willing to adopt or willing to go through what Bella went through

But as for him, he’s okay with the little guys you have running around your classroom

Esme:

Another mother at heart

She loves kids

I mean, she’s dedicated her entire vampire life to being an adoptive mother to about 7 immortal kids

So she is more than willing to help you with anything you want

Your kids absolutely love her too

They always get excited when Mrs Esme comes to visit

She is the best at storytelling

She has their entire attention for as long as she spends talking

And she loves helping you decorate your room too

Of course, she also loves that you’re so good with kids

As someone who once had a child and now has so many “children,” it’s important to her that her partner loves kids

Any time you need help, she is there

And she is so excited to decorate your classroom

She brings in candy and food for every single holiday party

Your kids don’t need to provide a single thing

That might be why they all love her actually

Jk jk

She’s just so sweet how could you not

Carlisle:

He is also a guy who’s great with kids

I mean, when you’re one of the only doctors in a small town you kinda have to be good with all kinds of people

Kids love him too

He doesn’t even really need to try

He’s just sort of unbothered by whatever kids want to do to him

So if a kid wants to climb onto his back and pull his hair and sit on his head then he won’t stop them

It’s not like it hurts or anything, he’ll live

Obviously though, he can’t be at your classroom all of the time

Actually, he can’t even be there every once in a while

The clinic is pretty demanding

So he mostly just helps at home

The amount of times when he has graded your kids’ papers or printed off new worksheets for them while you were asleep is countless

He just tries to support you where he can

And of course his money is your money

You want to throw a birthday party for one of your students? Here’s his debit card, go crazy

Vampire! Bella:

She’s a reluctant person with kids

I mean, obviously she loves Renesmee, but aside from her, she’s never been good at dealing with kids

She’s just awkward around them

Sort of the same vibe as Jasper

Doesn’t know what to say to them

She was in your classroom and one of the kids was talking to her

So she just started talking about politics?

Even the kid was confused

But the problem is that kids love her

You don’t really know why, neither does she

But something about her just draws kids to her

She prefers to just help you out at home

But she gets frustrated too quick with the little kid writing

“What the hell is this supposed to say? I’m just gonna mark it wrong”

“Bella you can’t just do that-“

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essjujutsu · 2 months ago

Text

CHAPTER Ⅰ: SUPRISE!

( the gc is in yuji's perspective! )

knock

damn, did yuji already forget your coming? you told him like..two hours ago!

just then, the door swings open and your brother opens the door.

"yn!! your here!"

yuji says enthusiastically, opening the door wider so you can fit your suitcase inside.

"where's sukuna? is he home?"

"nah, he went to the grocery store. he said we didn't have enough food in the house 'cause i ate it all or something."

"oh, thats..nice of him."

you set your suitcase down on the living room floor, flopping down on the couch. you're definitely glad to be home.

"one of your friends texted me, nobara—she seems really nice."

you announce as yuji sits down on the couch aswell, nodding in response.

"yeah, everybody's nice—trust me! they'll all like you."

you give him a smile, watching him go back on his phone to do who knows what. you really do hope they all like you—you may have stalked some of their instagrams once or twice, but that was just because yuji tagged them and you were curious!

a couple minutes later you head the front door open behind you—you look up from the couch and see your uncle sukuna standing there with a few grocery bags. he still looked pretty much the same, face tattoos and all. you remember back when he first gained custady of you, yuji and choso—sukuna was pretty scary for a elementary schooler, but he was nice...in his own way at least. but you never really got to know him like yuji did, since you had already planned to leave for boarding school.

"oh, you're home. hey kid."

he spoke, coming over to the living room where you and yuji sat. though before you even got to respond, yuji interrupted.

"sukuna, whats for dinner! ooh can i help make it? i wanna show yn my amazing cooking skills!"

"since when can you cook, yuji?"

you ask in response, raising an eyebrow.

"uhm! since like, forever! sukuna taught me and not to brag but im pretty good."

"he's alright."

you laugh in response, as yuji darts off to the kitchen—followed by your uncle. you smile as you get up from the couch to, walking over to follow them.

you smile slightly as you walk into the kitchen, now you only had one thing to worry about—your first day of your new school tomorrow.

A/N: wooah first chapter! if you see any grammer mistakes im sorry LMFAO , second chapter will be up by wednesday!

next | masterlist

TAGS: @1ndee ( ask 2 be added! )

#jjk #essposts #aigtphs ᡣ𐭩 #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #yuji itadori #sukuna #uncle sukuna #nobara kugisaki #megumi fushiguro #jjk smau #jujutsu kaisen #jjk au #jjk x reader #jjk fic #jjk fanfic #jjk x y/n

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stillmonsterz · 9 months ago

Text

Tired Of What We Are

pairing: sunghoon x reader

genre: angst (?), smut

summary: you drive to your old town, where old memories are awakened by the person who never ceased to confuse you, mystify you, and see you for what you are.

warnings: unprotected sex, swearing, piss is mentioned (not sexually), slapping, dubcon if you squint, name-calling, sunghoon is kind of a loser.

word count: 6.5k

As soon as you passed the sign on the highway welcoming you into your old town, you remembered why you had left in the first place. Small, ramshackle houses resting on lawns choking with weeds, cracked pavement, two grocery stores passing around the same pool of customers. You drove past the elementary school where children teemed on the swing sets, past the Methodist church where you had attended when a member of your family had felt religious conviction.

Five years had passed since you had been here, and everything seemed even smaller and bereft of beauty. This was a feat in itself, as you had been sick of it when you had lived here. You had driven here to pick up a reference from your first job; a part-time job as a receptionist, a role that had forced you to be human. As you pulled into the parking lot of the small insurance company, you wondered why you had bothered driving all the way here instead of having the reference letter e-mailed to you. You figure that you wanted to remind yourself of how far you had come.

After an uncomfortable conversation with your old boss, you’re clutching your reference letter in your hands. You could just drive home, but a lingering thread of nostalgia knots itself in your chest. Instead, you decide to walk around the main street of the town: a thrift shop, a bakery, two grocery stores, two convenience stores, a chiropractor clinic, a veterinarian's office, a burger joint, and a dispensary. “So they finally built something there,” you think. You remember when it was just an empty space, white-washed walls and cement floors. The last time you had seen it was with Sunghoon.

His name rings loudly in your head, the letters blazing red. You force yourself to walk past the dispensary, instead opting to go to the bakery. Something sweet will take your mind off of him. Sunghoon, your enemy, the bane of your high school existence, the only person who had ever understood you.

You pick out a cupcake, sliding money onto the counter idly as the memory overtakes you. Even a bite of the treat does little to quell the overwhelming feeling of…loss?

The last time you saw Sunghoon, you were both 18 years old. He was affable, good-looking, and hopelessly obnoxious. You had ended up on the same bus route, and he took pleasure in bothering you, from freshman year all the way to senior year. His taunts went from playground insults to targeted remarks about your body, your looks, your social life (or lack thereof). The one thing he focused on the most was your personality. Your other traits were all clearly jokes, but his dislike for certain aspects of your personality seemed almost personal. He would call you cowardly, overly shy, a people-pleaser.

He would slide into your seat, invading your personal space. You tried placing your backpack next to you, but he would just place the backpack on his lap and smile at you with a smug grin. Sunghoon would take pictures of you when you weren’t looking, pointing at your nostrils flaring, or your awkward facial expression. You couldn’t remember your first conversation with Sunghoon; it had all blended into a long string of annoyances.

At school, you rarely saw him. He wasn’t in any of your classes, opting for the more practical courses while you had gone for college levels. When you did pass by him in the hallway, he was usually slinking around alone or with one of his friends. He was sickly pale and sullen, but when he laid eyes on you, he would brighten and laugh. If you were carrying a book, he would make a snide remark about that. Otherwise, he would either be silent or make fun of your outfit. Sometimes he would have his arm around a girl, so he would walk past you as if you didn’t exist, but you swore you could feel his eyes burning holes in your back.

You never argued with him. You thought it was your way of turning the other cheek, of being the bigger person, but it just made you feel like a coward. You would swallow the taunts like a spoonful of acetone, gritting your teeth and smiling. The smiling would only make it worse, sometimes.

When you were 18 years old, three weeks before graduation, he had coaxed you out of your room during the middle of the night, rapping on your window with his reddened knuckles. It had taken some convincing, some wheedling, and a little name-calling, but you sensed that you could have an adventure. When you crawled out of your window, your backpack strapped to your back, he had helped you get out with a Cheshire grin.

That was the night he had led you into that space on Main Street, pushing past the doors with the bravado that only a high school drug dealer could muster. He sat on the floor, patting the ground next to him.

When you were 18 years old, and he gave you your first edible, resting your head on his shoulder as you waited for the THC to kick in. To pass the time, the two of you talked about your student body. Sunghoon disliked almost everyone there, spitting out names with venom. You weren’t fond of them either, but you told him that you didn’t mind them. He told you not to lie to him because he can tell. He said that he’s not fucking stupid. You said that you never thought he was stupid, and he told you to stop lying to him for once. Then you called him fucking stupid, and he laughed. Sunghoon had even started applauding you, but you had shoved him and told him to be quiet.

That was the night when he had given you one, two, three gentle kisses on the lips, whispering that it didn’t mean anything after you had pointed out he had a girlfriend. You remembered his slow smile after you gave him a soft kiss in return.

When you were 18 years old, and after the percs that he had taken had kicked in, he had admitted that he wished he had had your brain, so he could escape this town and become something, someone useful. When you had blearily suggested running away together, he had laughed and said that he wasn’t that fucking high.

And that night, when he had pressed you onto the cement floor, kissing you languidly, like time was all you had, he had whispered that he wanted to give you the rest, let you take everything. You said that you didn’t want to do it there, and not when he had a girlfriend, and he had sat up, nodding and pushing his hair back. And you had asked why he was so mean to you, and he asked why you never fought back. And he said that all you did was take it and take it, so he had to give it. He said that he could tell that there was something in you, something desperate to get out, but you were too weak, so he had to rip it out for you. So you had stumbled to your feet, offended and dazed, and he had offered to walk you home, and you had said no. You walked away from him, and the last time you saw him was at your graduation. You were surprised that he had had the credits to walk.

---

As you walked away from the bakery, you decided that you would drive to your old house, then you would never come back. You clambered into your car and drove to your neighborhood. You thought that things would have changed, but the sameness haunted you. The same people sitting on their porches, the same dogs tied to a post. When you get out of your car, parking it on the curb outside of your old house, and survey the ground, you could swear that the same glass bottles litter the ground.

Your old house is a one-story affair: worn, blue clapboard siding, a tired white porch. To your delight, whoever moved in after you had installed a windowbox of red begonias. As you survey everything, the wilted lawn, the gravel driveway, the weather-dampened wooden steps leading inside, you hear a voice behind you.

“If you wanna buy that one, you’re out of luck. I can get you someplace nicer.” The cadence, cockiness, the playfulness, it all burns you. You turn around, and there’s Sunghoon, wearing a T-shirt and sweatpants, smiling at you with that same shit-eating grin. He’s holding a glass bottle of blue soda.

You just stare at him, taking in his appearance. A bit of stubble dots his chin, he’s grown taller, and his eyes are wearier. But it’s still him.

“What, no hi?” He steps towards you, his arms outstretched. “You hate me that much?”

“Hi,” you mumble, hugging him. He smells the same, and his grasp is as you had imagined.

You feel his free hand stroking your back. “How have you been?”

“Good.” You pull away so you can see his face closely. “You?”

He shrugs. “I’m still here, so there’s your answer.” He steps back, letting his arms fall to his side. Sunghoon opens his soda, tossing the cap behind him. He takes a long swig of it as he stares at you. “What do you do now?”

You tell him your new profession, and he smirks. “Using that brain for good, are you?”

“I try,” you say dryly. “Do you still sell?”

“Nah,” Sunghoon says, shaking his head. “Gave that shit up after high school. No, I’m a real estate agent now.” When he notices you glancing at his unkempt appearance, he groans. “I have a meeting with a client in like a few hours, I don’t go around wearing a suit all the time.”

You laugh at him and walk away slightly. As you lean on your car door, crossing your arms, he follows you so that he’s standing directly in front of you.

“So, are you still a geek ass loser?”

“Are you still a burnout?”

Sunghoon scoffs, kicking at your shoes. “Burnout? You sound like a PSA. I’m actually in my bag now.”

You cover your mouth to muffle your laugh. “In your bag?”

Sunghoon smiles so widely you can see his molars. “Yeah. Stacking paper, you know. I’m planning to save up money and head out with Shay.”

“Shay?” You don’t recognize that name from Sunghoon’s revolving door of exes.

“Yeah.” His voice drops and his eyebrows set into an angry little line. “Yeah, Shay’s my girl. We’ve been together for two years now.”

“Oh. Congratulations.” For some reason, jealousy nips at you, and you can’t pinpoint why. “What’s she like?”

Sunghoon shrugs. “She’s nice, you know. Cute and sweet.” He takes another drink of his soda. “You got anyone?”

The teasing glint in his eyes makes you want to lie, but you know there’s no point. “No.”

He laughs. “I knew it. I bet the last play you ever got was I kissed you.”

The fact that he brings it up so casually takes you off guard, but years of arguing with Sunghoon have sharpened your reflexes. “You wish you were my only experience. You’re hardly that important.”

“Oh?” Sunghoon walks slightly closer to you, his tone mocking. “Goody two-shoes got a little wild in college? What, did a guy finger you in exchange for you writing a report for him?”

“Fuck off.”

He grins at you. “Oh, and she’s got a mouth on her now. Who taught you that?”

You roll your eyes. “Nice to see that you haven’t changed.”

“Hey,” Sunghoon says defensively, “I have changed. You on the other hand…” He tilts his head, smirking as he analyzes you from top to bottom. “Well, you’ve changed in the ways that matter.”

“And how’s that?”

Sunghoon smiles. “You got hotter.” Before you can retort, he starts walking away. “Come on,” he calls behind him, “I have to give you something.”

“Syphilis? Gonorrhea? Herpes?” you ask, wandering after him as he strides down the sidewalk. You rub your arms as you walk; the familiarity of the spring day has brought you chills.

“Haha,” Sunghoon says in a deadpan voice. “Humor was never your strong suit, was it?” He stops walking so you can catch up to him, then takes a right.

“You’re no comedian yourself,” you retort, nudging him with your elbow. He elbows you back, smiling, and then you remember that he’s dating someone. You clear your throat and look away, focusing on the poplar trees lining the sidewalk. “So what did you have to show me?”

“It’s a surprise,” you hear him say, a teasing lilt in his voice.

“I don’t like-,”

“Surprises,” he says, and you turn to look at him. “I know you don’t, but you’ll like this one.”

----

Sunghoon was still living with his parents. He explained that the housing economy was horrible, so he opted to stay with them until he saved up enough money.

His house was nicer than yours, which wasn’t a feat. It was two stories, and the small garden filled with perennials and irises seemed well-maintained. The walkway was clean, and there was a Honda Civic parked outside.

“My parents are in Montauk right now,” Sunghoon says, leading you into his home. He fumbles with his keys before successfully opening his newly-painted door.

“Where’s Shay?”

Sunghoon shrugs. "At work. We don't live together right now, but she might come over soon to visit me before my meeting." When you walk inside, you’re greeted with its simple living room: a worn-out sofa sat against one wall, its once vibrant upholstery now faded and threadbare. Across from it, a scratched coffee table held a scattering of magazines and a remote control with missing buttons. The plasma TV looms on the wall, adjacent to the stairs.

You kick your shoes off and line them up by the door.

“Cute,” Sunghoon mumbles. Then he clears his throat. “Come upstairs, to my room.”

You follow him up the carpeted stairs to his room, which bears the childish scribble “STAY OUT” in black Sharpie. You point at it and snicker.

“I had to let everyone know I wasn’t fucking around,” he says with a laugh.

“Did this deter your sister at all?”

Sunghoon sighs. “No. She would just come in here and take my things. Really grinded my gears.” As you enter his room, taking in its sheer normalcy, he continues talking. “Once, when I was in the living room watching a movie with my parents, she ran down the stairs and started shrieking. She was like, ‘I found something in Sunghoon’s room!’ and she was hollering. I got so scared, because I used to keep my stash in my sock drawer-,”

You stop ogling the various posters of movie characters that he had pasted around his room and turn to him. “Your sock drawer? Why?”

Sunghoon shrugs. “Who would check the sock drawer? It’s foolproof. Anyways, I thought for sure that I was done for, when she yells, ‘I found a…bad magazine in there!’”

“So what was it?” You lean against his tall wooden dresser.

Sunghoon places his half-empty bottle of soda on his tidy nightstand and starts to rummage around inside its small drawer. “It was a Playboy that one of my friends had found in the woods. I had put it, like, under my bed.”

“What’d your parents say?”

Sunghoon finally retrieves the item he was trying to find, turning to face you with his hand clenched around something. “They were like, son, you can’t bring that into the house…we’re going to have to confiscate it…I found it in my dad’s side of the closet a few months later.”

You laugh, crossing your arms. “You must have felt so slighted.”

“I did,” Sunghoon says gravely. His face brightens, and he hops onto his twin-sized bed. “C’mere.” You oblige, politely making space. “Now close your eyes…”

You roll your eyes, but you do what he says.

“Open your hand…Now close your hand again. Now open it one more time…now close it again.”

“Sunghoon.”

“All right, damn. Open your hand, for real.”

Something cold presses into your hand, with little rough edges. When you open your eyes, it’s a small piece of quartz. You hold it up higher, examining it. “A rock?”

“Don’t you remember?” Sunghoon laughs. “You got so pissed at me for taking this from you. I think you had found it outside at school, and you got so angry. You did your usual, ‘Whatever, Sunghoon, routine, but you were pissed.”

“So,” you begin slowly, rolling the quartz in your hands. “You brought me here for a rock?”

Sunghoon pauses, then nods. “Yeah.” He scoots closer to you, his knee touching yours. “Is a rock so meaningless to you?”

“It’s…fine. Imbued with memories.”

“You’re such a shit liar. Just say you’re pissed at me.”

You shrug. “I’m not pissed…”

Sunghoon reaches behind you and snatches your phone, springing to his feet. “Are you pissed now?”

“Oh, come on. Give it back,” you say, standing up as well.

“Come get me,” he replies, running down the stairs with a laugh. You toss the piece of quartz back onto his bed and you chase after him, fighting a smile from spreading on your face.

You finally catch up to him in his living room, where he’s tossing your phone from hand to hand. “Give it back, Sunghoon. You’re acting like a child.”

Sunghoon dangles your phone above your head. “You’re acting like you’re too good for some fun. Come on, try to get it from me.”

You unsuccessfully hop around, trying to snatch your phone from Sunghoon’s elusive grasp. He snickers at you like you’re a trained dog, and it pisses you off. Eventually, you get so fed up you try to get him off his feet, tackling him to the carpet. Your phone goes flying out of his hands as he falls, and you reach out to get it. Sunghoon’s hands wrap around your waist, preventing you from leaving. You turn to look at him as you hover above him, your knees on either side of his body. You and Sunghoon are behind his couch, obstructed from view if you walked in the house.

Sunghoon looks as if he’s about to say something, but instead he gently presses your head towards him. It’s not a surprise when his lips meet yours, but the tenderness with which he kisses you is shocking. He sighs softly into the kiss.

Sunghoon takes his time, running his hands along your body. His gaze is almost analytical, his touch precise. He strokes your stomach, rubs your breasts, caresses your waist. One of his hands slides down your inner thigh, rubbing circles there with his thumb. His other hand cups your cheek, and he kisses you gingerly, as if he’s scared that you’ll disappear. Once he seems sure that you’ll stay, he parts his reddened lips and slips his tongue into your mouth. You massage his tongue with your own, your eyes flickering shut. Warmth spreads through your stomach, trickling to your fingertips.

His cold hands slip under your shirt, and his fingers trail along your stomach. Sunghoon strokes your warm flesh, moaning slightly into the kiss. As you feel him groping your breast through your bra, you place your hand on his. “Stop,” you whisper.

Sunghoon stops fondling you, but his hand still rests on your breast. “Why?” His voice is almost childlike in its disappointment, his dark eyes narrowed.

“It’s wrong,” you say earnestly, “you have a girlfriend.”

“Shay won’t know,” he whispers, butting his nose against yours. “This is just a one-time thing, just to finish what we started.”

“It’s still cheating,” you say, circling your hand around his wrist.

“So get up.”

“Huh?”

Sunghoon scoffs and continues to feel up your chest. “You don’t care. If you had cared, you wouldn’t have followed me into my house. You wouldn’t have come up into my room, you wouldn’t have tackled me to the ground. If you feel so strongly about cheating, then get up and leave.”

You’re stunned, staring up at him. His response is to kiss your neck, licking at it. Sunghoon gently nips at a spot, and you whimper. “You know, that’s always been your problem,” he mutters. “Open your mouth.”

Still speechless, you timidly open your mouth. Sunghoon shoves two of your fingers inside. “Suck on these,” he orders.

As you lick around his fingers, tasting his coppery sweat, he plays with your hair with the other hand. “Your problem is that you’re always pretending to be this impossibly good girl. It made me sick, seeing you laughing it up with other people when I know you didn’t like them, pretending to care when you don’t. How could I not press your buttons? Just once, I wanted you to admit it. I wanted you to show anger, sadness, something, anything. Any reaction besides indifference or your little smiles. I was so happy today, seeing you fight back. It only took five years…”

Sunghoon pulls his fingers out of your mouth and uses the wetness to rub your nipples, looking you dead in the eyes. You whimper again, the coolness serving as a balm for your overheated body. “You remember the first week of freshman year, when our bus driver hit that rabbit?”

You jerk your head away from him. “What?”

“The rabbit,” he says insistingly, sliding his wet finger from your chest to your navel. “When it ran in front of the bus and it went flying. Everyone else was crying, or freaked out, or they made a joke out of it even though they were creeped out. But you didn’t react.”

His gaze is piercing, and you swallow heavily. “Yes, I did. I cried.”

“Fake fucking tears. I saw you, I saw you. I always see you. You were just sitting there, your face blank.” Sunghoon leans in and kisses your cheeks as if to punctuate his words. “Blank as. A. Fucking. Wall. Then you looked around at everyone else, and you started crying.”

“So?” His hands have wrapped around your waist again. “What are you trying to say?”

“That you don’t care,” Sunghoon whispers against your ear. He licks the shell of your ear, his tongue trailing down to the lobe. “And I love it. I always have.” Finally, he kisses your lips again, just as sweetly as before. “Tell me you care about Shay, right now. Tell me you care, and I’ll leave you alone.”

Emotions swirl in your gut, and you realize that you don’t recognize any of them as guilt. “I don’t care,” you say, eyes widening in realization.

“There she is,” he whispers before kissing you again, bringing you down so that your chest is flush with his. He runs his tongue on your teeth before breaking the kiss with a smack. Saliva drips out of his mouth, and his breath is heavy. “Why didn’t you let me have you back then?”

“I was scared that I would have fallen in love with you,” you admit softly, your hands entangled in his dark locks. You kiss the moles adorning his face.

“Probably a smart decision,” he says with a slight smile. “Is that still a risk now?”

You shake your head. “No. I doubt this will have much impact on me at all, honestly.”

“Fuck off,” Sunghoon says, now widely grinning. He flips you so that you’re underneath him, and his chain dangles in your face. You playfully bite it, tugging the chain so that Sunghoon’s face is close to yours. “When did you get so cute?” He kisses you again, the tenderness from before giving way to desire.

“When you started noticing,” you say, stroking his hair and the nape of his neck.

“Nah.” Sunghoon tilts his head and kisses you again, hands once more snaking under your shirt. “I always noticed you.” He starts to pull your shirt off and you help him. When you’re lying there, clad in your bra, Sunghoon pulls himself up, kneeling above you. His dark eyes are almost unreadable.

“What is it?”

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, stroking your arms, your stomach, your chest with a reverence reserved for a marble sculpture. He unzips your jeans, and you shimmy out of them. Sunghoon smirks, then, giving your pink panties a gentle tap. “Nice undies, you cute little shit.”

Your face reddens. “I wasn’t expecting anything…”

“I meant it,” Sunghoon says, pulling off his shirt and sweatpants deftly. He tosses them over his couch. Your attention is drawn to his Iron Man boxers and you snort. “Don’t laugh. These were a gift.”

“Who gifted you this atrocity?” You unhook your bra, putting it carefully next to your shirt.

As you’re pulling your underwear off, Sunghoon quietly says, “Shay did.”

Your first reaction should be to blush, to feel ashamed, something that indicates kindness. Instead, you laugh. “Shay has shit taste in more than just men, then.”

Sunghoon grins, tugging his boxers off and tossing them away. “Is that so?” He grabs your arms and pulls you up so that you’re sitting. You get a glimpse of his cock; the tip is slightly red, but it’s still somewhat soft.

“I can take care of that,” you whisper, nodding at it. You stretch your jaw out, but Sunghoon touches your chin.

“Don’t,” he says, “I don’t want you to do that.”

“You…don’t want me to suck you off?”

He shakes his head. “No. I can’t make you do that. And don’t bother asking me why, I just can’t.” Sunghoon holds his hand out instead, palm facing up. “Spit.”

You spit on his hand until he’s satisfied. He works his cock himself, staring straight at you as he does. “Don’t just sit there,” he says, his breath shuddering. So you hold out your hand, and he spits on it.

You part your legs and rub your clitoris, your other hand fucking your walls. You try to keep your eyes on Sunghoon, but his eyes are squeezed shut in ecstasy. “Open your eyes,” you say firmly. “Look at me.”

When he does open his eyes, they’re filled with lust. His cock has hardened, and he slows his movements. He teases his reddened tip with his thumb as he watches you play with yourself. “God, you’re hot,” he whispers. “Are you ready?”

You nod, and he grabs your hips, pulling you into his lap. You’re both sitting, his legs on either side of your body. Sunghoon kisses you one last time before teasing the head of his cock into your pussy, but he’s so hard that he has to press his thumb down to get it inside. Once he’s entered you, you hiss, adjusting to the feeling. “Does it hurt?”

You get the sense that he’d like it if it hurt. “Yeah, a little.”

“I’ll be gentle for you, baby,” Sunghoon murmurs, licking at the junction between your jaw and ear. He presses you onto his cock by your hips, getting you used to his length. When your arms wrap around his muscular, lean body, you notice Sunghoon smile widely. Once he’s fucked himself into you, you slowly shift up and down, but he stops you. “Let me do everything.”

Sunghoon is gentle, his hips working in tandem with him pressing you onto his cock. His nails dig into your soft flesh, and he kisses your neck warmly. You had envisioned sex with Sunghoon more often that you cared to admit, but as your hands slipped down to touch your tender parts, you were imagining something rougher, something animalistic to match his antagonistic personality. But the way he’s treating you now, murmuring sweet nothings into your ear, it feels alien.

“So gorgeous,” he whispers, giving your ass a squeeze. “So perfect. So tight. You feel like a virgin.”

“So this is what it’s like,” you murmur, reaching your hand down to lazily play with your clit.

“Hm?” Sunghoon licks the underside of your jaw, his pace staying moderate. It’s as though he’s trying to leave a lasting imprint of himself inside of you. “This is what what’s like?”

“Making love instead of fucking,” you reply.

Sunghoon presses you down so that he’s on top of you. He kisses you sweetly, then plants kisses with exaggerated smacks down your body. He swats the hand playing with your clit away, replacing it with his own tongue. “So sweet.” Sunghoon grips your hips, holding you in place. Moans leave your mouth in stutters as he lavishes your clit with attention, sucking it into his mouth before swirling his tongue around the bead. When your moans become ragged, he pulls his face away, licking his lips theatrically.

“Don’t stop,” you whine, but he places his lips on yours, the taste of your arousal seeping into your mouth. Sunghoon takes your wrists in one hand and holds them above your head. He uses his other hand to guide his angry cock into your pussy again. As soon as he enters it, he moans and his eyes close. “Don’t close your eyes, Sunghoon. Look at me.” Sunghoon nods, biting his lip.

He thrusts into you slowly, even slower than last time. His pace is almost excruciatingly gentle. His tongue licks at your nipples, sucking them into his mouth. The entire time, he looks directly into your eyes, and his gaze scares you. It’s so caring, you could almost mistake it for affection. The possibility of what could have been gnaws at your insides.

“Kiss me,” you say desperately. His lips find yours and he devours you hungrily, spit dribbling out of his mouth.

“I should have run away with you,” he whispers, releasing your hands from his grasp. You hook one leg around his back and press him down onto you; you interlace your fingers with his, clasping your hands together. Sunghoon whimpers and continues fucking into you, picking up the speed. His hips snap against yours, and his balls slap against your thighs. “I should have just left with you.”

“We were just kids,” you say, moving your hips up to match his movement.

“You knew what you wanted,” he says. “You asked me to leave with you.”

The wild look in his eyes, the desperation tinging his voice, the hope dripping out of his mouth prevent you from telling the truth. The truth that running away with him just seemed like the thing to say, that you would never spend your life with a man like him.

“It would have been great,” you lie, kissing him so he’ll stop talking. Without warning, his cock twitches inside of you and you feel his hot cum spurting inside of you.

“Shit,” Sunghoon says frantically. “You didn’t get to cum. Shit, shit. Sorry, I-fuck, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say gently, but he’s already plunging two of his fingers into your pussy, shoving his cum up into your tired cunt. His other finger rubs at your clit slowly and sensually, and you moan loudly.

“I couldn’t hold it,” he says, “I wanted to finish with you.”

“It’s okay.” When you cum, you try to moan performatively, tossing your head back. But your little show doesn’t please Sunghoon, who stares at you coldly.

“You hated that,” Sunghoon says, resting on his knees.

“I didn’t,” you say reassuringly. You rise from the ground; your knees hardly buckle.

“I told you to stop lying to me,” he says, his expression like that of a kicked puppy’s.

You sigh and crack your neck. “I’m going to use the restroom,” you say gently, leaving before he can protest.

As you take a piss, you think about it. Why was it so unfulfilling? Was it too emotional? Why did he care if you finished so badly? It wasn’t that he was a bad lay, something just felt off. You clean his cold cum off of your thighs, wash your face, and step out of the restroom. As soon as you step out of the restroom, Sunghoon pins you to the wall. His hand presses your shoulders, and his voice is tremulous when he says, “You keep lying to me. Tell me the truth.”

“The truth?” you sigh. “Fine. The truth is that I didn’t like that.”

“You didn’t?” Sunghoon’s voice is cold.

“Yeah.” You reach one hand out, shoving him slightly. Sunghoon’s eyes widen, and you swear you can see his nostrils flare. “It was too soft, too gentle. I hated it.”

“I thought you would have liked that,” Sunghoon retorts, backing up as you walk towards him.

“Why? Because I’m such a goody-two-shoes?” You push him again, and his legs hit the bottom step of his carpeted stairs.

“Yeah,” he says, but there’s a glint in his eyes, and as you advance towards him his grin becomes more of a snarl. “I almost felt bad fucking you because you’re so…nice.”

With one final push, Sunghoon stumbles backwards, lying naked on his stairs. You hover above him, and you take his cock into your hand. It’s slightly flaccid, which isn’t a problem for you. You tease the head in your folds, coating it with your arousal. You rub it on your inner thighs, introducing his red tip to your clit. Choked whimpers escape Sunghoon’s mouth, and his head is tilted back.

“Look at me,” you order, and you lightly squeeze his shaft as a warning. Your other hand grabs his hair and forces his head up. His eyes snap open and burn holes into you. You continue rubbing his cock onto your clit, and your fingers slip from his hair to delve into your walls.

“Fuck,” he ekes out, “stop fucking teasing me.”

“Or what?” Just to torture him, you ghost his tip over your opening. You don’t expect him to cant his hips up, shoving his cock into you. As you adjust to the change, Sunghoon pulls you on top of him. His hands run all over your body, stroking it, scratching it as he fucks you roughly. You moan loudly, your hands scrambling to find purchase. You dig your nails into his shoulders, not caring that Shay might see the marks you leave behind. That’s for him to explain.

“There she is,” he says huskily. “I knew there was something in you, but I didn’t know it was a cock-hungry whore.”

You lightly slap his face, grinding yourself onto his cock. “I’m not a whore.”

He slaps you back, more of a tap than a hit. “Then why are you taking me like one?”

You slap him again before mumbling, “Fuck you.” You bring his face towards yours and you kiss, sucking his tongue. He responds by shoving it so far down your throat you choke. Sunghoon pistons his hips up into you, his thighs smacking against yours as he stuffs his cock into you with fervor.

Sliding off his length, you sit up on him instead. He remains lying down on the steps, squeezing the plush flesh of your ass as you adjust yourself. This time, when he enters you, he doesn’t stop you from riding him. You brace your hands on his strong thighs as you work his cock the way you want. “That’s right,” Sunghoon groans, slapping your ass hard. “Bounce on this cock. Been waiting for this for years.” He spits on his fingers and rubs your clit, causing your whimpers to turn into deep, throaty moans. Instead of his deep, slow strokes, he fucks you quickly, looking for his own pleasure.

He pushes you off of him and stammers out, “Turn around, now, now.” He helps to spin you around so that your back rests on top of him. In this position, he can grab your tits and play with your clit easily. Sunghoon rests one leg on top of yours as he fucks into you, groaning at the way he’s stretching you out. One of your hands feebly reaches out and holds one of the spindles of the staircase to steady yourself, the other holding his head.

Sunghoon presses sloppy, wet kisses along your neck, nibbling at the sensitive flesh. “Going to leave you something to remember me by,” he says lowly. “Remember who took this pussy the best.”

“I’m close,” you stutter out, eyes fixed on his rosy, exhausted face. The heat rising inside of you is leagues different compared to the first time. It sets your nerve endings on fire, it contains all the longing, the confused emotions, the wasted potential.

“Me too,” Sunghoon says with a low grunt. He slaps your thigh, and you slap his face, harder than last time. “Kiss me, baby.”

Your lips meet in a clash of teeth and a tangle of tongues. When you whine into his mouth, he speeds up his abuse of your clit. Your arousal must be soaking into the carpet at this point. Sunghoon’s thrusts grow erratic, frantic, and needy as he chases his own orgasm. His hips shudder, and with a strangled moan of your name, he pumps his cum into you for a second time.

You cum shortly afterwards, your pussy clenching Sunghoon so tightly he can hardly move his softening cock out of you. You kiss him, savoring the taste of his lips. He wraps his arms around you and holds you so tightly. He kisses your cheeks over and over again, then your forehead, your chin, and finally planting a warm kiss onto your lips. You lie like that for a while on his steps, with his cock resting in you. Your breathing begins to match his, and as you lay on his chest you listen to his heartbeat. It goes from quick to even; you’ll have to leave soon.

He offers to let you shower, you say no. You want to smell like sex, like him. He calls you a fucking weirdo. You ask him if he ever calls Shay a weirdo, and he says that he treats Shay like a princess. He asks you again if you want to shower.

Sunghoon watches you gather your clothes. He orders you to leave the bathroom door open so he can watch you clean his cum from between your thighs, splash water on your face, and get dressed. He tells you to do a spin for him, and don’t you dare half-ass it. You spin slowly, and he smiles at you like you’re his.

He offers to walk you to your car, you say no. You say that it would be horrible if Shay were to come home early from work and see us together, with me smelling like sex. He says that the whole house reeks of sex, and he’s going to have to deep-clean the stairs. You say that he shouldn’t have fucked you on the stairs, and he says that if you don’t get out now he’ll fuck you on the stairs, and on the couch, and on the floor, and in his bedroom, and he’ll die with his cock buried in you.

You kiss goodbye, and his eyes look haunted. He tells you not to bother texting him, and you say that you weren’t planning on it.

You stumble to your car, and when you drive away you swear that your town looks different now.

#sunghoon smut #sunghoon angst #enhypen smut #enha smut #kpop smut #kpop fanfiction #kpop hard thoughts #This was supposed to be sexier...

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pastelsicheng · 6 months ago

Text

never punctual [l.mk]

summary : a study date with your superhero best friend turns into a real date with your superhero boyfriend

pairing : mark x gn!reader

genre : spider-man AU, bffs to lovers AU, fluff

warnings : mentions of an injury and blood caused by glass, mentions of anxiety

word count : ~ 2.56 k

author’s note : in honour of mark releasing 200, i have reposted this. enjoy :) also it’s not explicitly said but i wrote this with the idea that mark lee is spider-man in toronto

Ever since the stupid spider bite, Mark could never be punctual.

It’s not that he became imprudent—he always tried his best to make it to places earlier than he was supposed to, because constantly being late throughout elementary school and being forced to stay after school for detention with rude teachers had given him anxiety. Rather, he always found himself becoming occupied with saving something or someone.

Back when he lived his life in blissful ignorance, he would have never stopped for any of these people. Now though, his moral compass had taken over. He’d learned quickly that whatever he’d be learning or hearing at school was not as important as saving and helping a civilian. Especially when he knew how corrupt and useless the police were.

That being said, Mark was late.

Mask covering his face, he swung past condos and corporate buildings. The wind rushed past his face as he flew across the city. The late evening sky was yellow as the sun was preparing to set, the light sparkling against the lake. Oftentimes, he took time to enjoy the view. Nothing could beat the beauty of his hometown. This time, though, he didn’t notice anything. All he could think about was that he was late.

Late to meeting you for your study date.

“Come on,” Mark mutters to himself. He pushes himself harder, putting more force into his swings in an attempt to speed himself up. The strain is felt in his upper arms, but he tells himself that it’s punishment for losing track of time.

Why’d he always have to go and make a fool out of himself in front of you? You already knew about him being Spider-man and that he was often late because he was out doing superhero things. Regardless, he still felt anxious and embarrassed having to face you each time he was running behind schedule. Maybe it was the conditioning he went through in elementary school—after all, Mrs. Addison really scared the hell out of him and made him cry every time he was late. Or maybe he just hated the way he presented himself to you. No one wants to date someone who's constantly late to plans. No one would want to date Mark. Especially not even you.

It was bad enough that he could barely hold in his feelings every time he was in your presence. He was lucky that you were oblivious when it came to romantic feelings (or perhaps you just didn’t want to embarrass him, but Mark liked to think that you were just oblivious to how he felt).

Why was he such a mess around you?

The sudden increase in speed and the jumbled thoughts of you in his head have Mark stumbling as he lands by a trash bin in an alley. He loses his footing and falls roughly onto all fours. The sharp pebbles and rocks of the asphalt dig into his palms and knees.

“Fuck,” he hisses in pain. Sitting up, he looks at his hands. A shard of glass is wedged in his palm. Glancing down, he notices that he fell right on top of broken glass. Just his luck.

Mark stands upright carefully, and pulls the pieces of glass from his skin. Luckily he’s wearing his suit underneath his outfit, so his knees are safe from any harm. His hands on the other hand…

He pulls off his backpack from his shoulders and rips off his mask, shoving it inside. He also pulls out a small pack of tissues and pulls a couple out. He wipes the blood on his palms, presses and holds the tissue carefully on the wound, then zips his bag. It should do for now. He could run to the bathroom and wrap his hand up once he got to you.

Taking off once again, Mark sprints across the sidewalk, dodging people left and right. It's not until he reaches the community library that he finally pauses to catch his breath. His heart is pounding against his chest and his breaths are fast and heavy. Was he dying?

After being bitten, Mark's stamina and physical abilities had increased greatly. Exercise like this was nothing to him. In fact, on good days, he was able to run 50 km without breaking a sweat. Why was his heart pounding after just a bit of running?

He knew the answer (he was nervous because of you), but he didn't want to acknowledge it. Mark was not a silly middle schooler who went crazy because of a crush.

“Be still, my heart,” he says quietly to himself. He makes his way to the bench outside the entrance and sits down.

His therapist had recommended in his last session that he try doing meditation and breathing techniques anytime he felt anxious. Now was a better time than ever to test it out.

Closing his eyes, Mark rests his hand on his chest to feel his heartbeat and slowly takes deep breaths, trying to calm his heart down.

Inner peace. Find your inner peace and meditate. Deep breath in… Deep breath out… In… Out… In… Out… In—

“What are you doing, Mark?”

Instantly his heart rate picks up again. So much for inner peace and meditation.

“Oh!” Mark jumps up from the bench at the sight of you. Your backpack is slung over one shoulder, and you've changed your outfit from what you had worn to school. Not that Mark noticed and kept track of what you wore on a daily basis. He wasn't that smitten with you. “Haha, hi, (Y/N). How long have you been waiting here for?” He rubs the back of his neck nervously.

“I just came. What were you doing? Are you okay?” you ask in concern. You reach a hand out to Mark's face, an attempt to see whether he is feverish, but Mark slaps your hand away harshly.

“I'm fine!” he says a bit too loudly. A couple of passersby glance at the two of you.

“Okay…” you say cautiously, clutching your arm where he had hit you (instant regret hits Mark when he sees that. Why did he hit you??? He mentally slaps himself). You're unconvinced with his answer. He's definitely not okay. His skin is flushed pink, and his hand… is that blood?

You reach out for his hand, and this time, Mark doesn't swat you away. You peel away the tissues that he had clenched in his palms and see a deep cut.

“I'm fine,” Mark says. He isn't, but he didn't want you to worry. His abilities also included healing super fast, so his hand would be as good as new in a few days time anyway.

“Who did you fight that your hands are bleeding?”

“Oh, uh… just somebody,” he lies. Mark feels embarrassed, he's sure his ears are red by this point. Imagine having to lie that you got into a fight. Most people lied saying their injuries were self-inflicted by their clumsiness. Mark lied that he really did fight someone. “I'm fine, (Y/N), really.”

Your stare is intense as you look at the injury. Your fingers seek to trace around it, but they linger millimeters away in fear of hurting him even more.

“You should wash it at least. You'll get an infection. I don't think Spidey powers can save you from an infection.”

At the mention of his alias, Mark shushes you loudly. He glances around to make sure that no one overheard you.

“Don't say stuff like that out loud,” he scolds.

You roll your eyes. “As if people would suspect you. Every Spider-man face drawing is of a white person. You're safe, Mark.”

“You can never be too careful.”

“You say that, yet your hand is bleeding.” You squeeze his wrist and Mark flinches, pulling himself back from you. His super strength gave him the ability to basically be immune to any teasing punches or hits from his friends, but a single touch from you has each individual cell burning up. A squeeze from anyone else would be barely noticeable, but from you it feels like pins pricking his skin. In a good way.

“I'll go wrap it up,” Mark says. He knows you’ll insist on helping him clean and wrap the wound, but he also knows that he won’t be able to handle you holding his hand for longer than a few seconds. “Go get us a table.”

He doesn't wait for your response, walking through the automatic sliding doors and heading towards the men's washroom.

It takes him around five minutes to clean up his wound and bandage it properly. Oftentimes, Mark didn’t bother taking care of his wounds beyond keeping them clean. He had superpowers now, which meant there was no need to worry about reopening any injuries. In fact, his skin was already healing itself. He only did these things to appease you.

Oh, the things he did just for you.

After making sure that he didn’t look like an embarrassed tomato, he exits the bathroom and goes in search of you. He sees you standing at the back of the library waving your arm to grab his attention.

“Hey,” he greets you again. He sets his backpack on the table and pulls out his calculus textbook and notebook. He feels your heavy stare on him, and turns his head slowly to see you scrutinizing him.

“Are you really okay?” you ask. You cautiously take his hand in yours. The bandage was sloppily wrapped around his hand so you untuck it, fixing the cotton balls and tightening the gauze. Mark can feel his ears turning red. The contact of your skin on his makes his hand feel like it’s on fire. He doesn’t pull away from your touch, though, because he feels guilty about slapping your hand away earlier. You would definitely pester him with more questions if he tried to avoid you.

“I’m okay. I heal fast, don’t worry.”

“Hold this,” you instruct. He takes hold of the gauze and you go digging in your backpack for something. You pull out a safety pin and take Mark’s hand back in yours, pinning the fabric so that it couldn’t become undone. You pat his hand softly. “There.”

“Thanks.” His right leg bounces in an attempt to release all the pent up energy as soon as your touch leaves him. Mark uses his good hand to run his hands through his hair.

“I know your powers help you heal quickly, but you should still take care of yourself. The radioactive stuff probably has side effects as it is. You never know when something bad might happen.”

“Aren’t you an optimist?”

You smile at his words. “I mean it. You never know what can happen. You should be careful.”

“I will. Now let’s study.” Mark can’t hold your gaze for longer than a few seconds. His eyes keep flitting away to look anywhere besides your face. He hopes that if he can get you to pay attention to your own work, maybe his heart would slow down a bit.

You don’t even open your backpack, though.

Mark always made his feelings obvious. You’d figured out a while back that he had a crush on you after he had accidentally sent you a message on Instagram. He’d deleted it immediately, but it was too late. You had already seen the notification.

Since then, you enjoyed teasing Mark. Touching his hand, and saying things that made him a shy and blubbering mess. It was also your attempt at showing him that you felt the same way, but Mark was dumb.

“Do I make you nervous?” you ask.

“Huh?” Mark turns to look at you, though his eyes don’t meet your own. “No, you don’t. Why would I feel nervous around you?”

He laughs. Nervously, of course. Did you know how he felt?

“You’re acting like you have a crush on me or something. Do you like me?”

Mark freezes. “W-what?”

You shuffle your chair closer to him and lean forward, a mischievous glint in your eye. Mark instinctively leans back. “So you don’t have feelings for me? Your heart doesn’t speed up if I do this?”

You press a kiss to his cheek, a quick peck that lasts barely a second. For Mark though, it feels like at least a minute. An hour even. He could sit there staring into the air and replaying the moment for days if the library didn’t have curfew. He can feel his body heating up and the blush rising to his cheeks.

“Woah, what are you doing?” he chokes out. He turns to look around nervously, hoping no one was paying any attention to him acting a fool.

You don’t give him an answer, your hands going to his chest and feeling his heart thumping loudly. Mark flinches and stands abruptly, his chair making a loud noise when it scrapes backwards. A few people turn to look at him, and he feels even more embarrassed.

You tug him back down on his seat. “You okay? Your heart’s racing.” There’s a teasing smile on your face, and Mark scrunches his nose at you. ‘Cute,’ you think to yourself.

Mark clears his throat. His attempt at trying to brush past everything and act normal. “I’m fine. We should study.”

You sigh, fed up with his (un)intentional ignorance. “Mark, I’m trying to tell you I like you too. Why do you want to study so bad?”

“What?” For the first time since he set foot in that library, he looks you dead in the eyes.

“I like you. I have feelings for you. I want to date you. How else do you want me to put it? Je t’aime, Mark. Je—”

“I get it,” he cuts you off. “Are you serious? Or are you playing me—”

“Do you want me to kiss you on the lips this time?”

Mark’s taken aback by how brave you are. Why couldn’t he be like you and confess how he felt too?

“No need for that. I mean– you can, I would like that– but not right now. Not that I don’t want to kiss you– I just– I’ll shut up,” he sputters. His face is burning up and he rubs his cheeks to try and cool them down. Mark feels like burying himself alive. Why’s he so freaking awkward?

Despite his negative rizz, you giggle. “Do you wanna get outta here and go on an actual date?” you ask. “So I can ask you to be my boyfriend properly?”

A noise ranging between a scream and a squeak falls out of Mark’s mouth. More people turn to stare, some even giving him the stink eye.

Calm down. Deep breaths. Don’t get too excited, Mark.

“O-okay,” he manages to say.

You grin and grab your backpack. “I’ll wait for you outside so you can calm yourself down. You’re as red as your mask, Spidey.”

He didn’t have to look into a mirror to know that he was flushed red. Mark watches as you flash him a peace sign then turn your back to him. There’s a skip in your step as you get further away.

Mark was never punctual. You’d even beaten him to asking him out on a date. But for once, the stupid spider bite had done him some good. It had gotten him you.

#mark lee x reader #mark lee imagines #nct dream imagines #nct dream x reader #nct x reader #nct imagines #mark lee x you #mark lee x y/n #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 x you #nct 127 x y/n #nct dream x y/n #nct dream x you #mark lee fluff

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lacroixwh0r3 · 10 months ago

Text

The First Taste (p. 3)

DBF!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: You thought that it was just going to be you and your dad watching football together, but a lonely Joel comes over to join you two.

Warnings: SMUT!! pet names, porn with little plot, dom!joel, age gap, PiV, daddy kink, joel is a little bit of a perv, cursing, breast play?, reader and joel almost caught by reader's dad, teasing, fingering, slight dom!reader, hair pulling, football, joel is lonely, mentions of sarah, tommy, and maria

Song Inspo (feel free to listen if you want): Bathroom by Montell Fish

Part 1 Part 2

A/N: not me being gone for months...i swear i did not forget about yall! i had this saved in a google doc since november and haven't had the time nor motivation to finish it until now YAY

Enjoy babies! Please reblog, share, like, and comment if you want. <333

It was a shame—there you were, sitting on the couch at home on a Thursday night, waiting for your dad to get back from the store so the two of you could have some snacks while watching football. You didn’t know much about the sport, but it’s not like you had nothing better to do.

You called your friend and asked her if she would be down to hang out tonight, but lately, she would much rather hang out with her boyfriend than her best friend. While you were a little disappointed by her response, a part of you also felt relieved by her answer.

It’s not like you had much energy these days after recently getting a job as a teacher assistant at the local elementary school, and while it had been a job that you enjoyed a lot, it was also a demanding job that took a lot of your energy. You were constantly running back and forth from the classroom to the copy room to grab a stack of papers for the teacher, occasionally having to console kids or sometimes having to stop a lesson because someone peed themselves. The teachers would also ask you to create lessons for the day, which took up a lot of your free time outside of the classroom. You didn’t mind it though; after all, it is your job, and more often than not, the kids were sweet and would be on their best behavior depending on the day.

Today was different; you weren’t as tired as you usually are after work, you didn’t have any work to do, and you had the day off tomorrow. And for that, you were grateful.

You were lazily stretched out on the couch, watching whatever was on ESPN before the game was set to start. You check your phone for the time and notice that it is almost 8 o'clock and your dad isn't back yet.

It shouldn’t take him this long to get back, you think to yourself.

You decide to call him to check up on him, but as soon as you press his contact, you hear a knock at the front door. This confused you for a second because your dad usually used his key to open the door, but maybe he couldn’t since he was carrying bags. You get off the couch and walk to the front door.

“Took you long enou-” you say right as you swing the door, thinking that it was your dad. However, you cut yourself off when you realized who it was.

No, it was not your dad, but the last person you were expecting to see today.

The one and only Joel-fucking-Miller

“Joel,” you try to sound as normal as possible, but it was obvious from your tone that you were shocked. “W-what are you doing here?” You asked him. You could see the corner of his lips quirk up at your nervousness before going back to his usual serious look.

It’s not like it is uncommon for Joel to be over at your house, but it was usually during the times you were out of the house. Or your dad would be the one to greet him at the door. After Tommy and Maria moved away and Sarah was out of the house more, Joel's appearances at your house became more frequent.

“Just here to watch the game with your dad,” he says as he points inside the house. “You mind if I come in, darlin’?”

“Shit! I’m sorry,” you say, opening the door wider and moving out of the way. “Please, come in.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he says as he enters. You could smell his warm scent just as he walked right past you, making you almost want to go and throw yourself onto him.

As you were closing the door, you closed your eyes and let out a loud sigh before making your way back to the couch. You felt like a baby deer walking for the first time because you could feel Joel’s eyes on you. And to make matters worse, your legs had brushed against his as you passed by him, causing you to apologize immediately as if he were going to eat you for accidentally touching him.

“You’re fine, sweetheart,” he chuckles. You sigh with relief before sitting down on the couch, leaving a seat between the two of you.

The two of you sat there in silence—you sat there tense, while Joel sat there relaxed and unaffected.

A sense of guilt crept up on you as you sat there, looking at the TV screen in deep thought.

It had been about two years since whatever that was between you and Joel at the lake, and you still felt guilt whenever your dad would bring him up to you.

Whenever Joel did come around, he usually brought Sarah with him, and you would hang out with her most of the time. You felt bad for using Sarah as an escape from her dad, but you couldn’t deal with being around Joel.

“Your dad told me about that new job of yours,” Joel asked you, causing you to look over at him. He was looking at you with frowning eyebrows and eyes full of curiosity. “How’s it goin’?”

“It’s nice; it’s fun working with the kids and all that stuff.” You say, sounding a little too enthusiastic.

“That’s good, sweetheart. I’m proud of you.” He says sincerely, and the dimple on his cheek deepens as he gives you a small grin, almost causing your heart to jump out of your chest.

Thanks. You say lowly as your face warms up at his words. You liked hearing him say he was proud of you; it made you feel tingly and warm inside. “How’s Sarah been? I haven't seen her around lately,” you say as you try to replace the silence that fell over you two.

"Oh, that girl—she's hardly ever home these days,” Joel sighs in defeat as he scratches his graying beard. “I can’t even get her to sit down and have a meal with me,” he said lowly.

All you could do was stare at Joel with a sympathetic look.

Looking up from his lap, Joel's eyes sparkled with amusement as he looked at you. Watching as you stared at him with your lips frowned down. “Don’t look at me like I'm some wounded animal, sweet girl. I’ll be just fine.” His southern accent sounds more prominent as he says it.

“Sorry,” you mumbled as you looked away from him, feeling embarrassed for some reason.

Joel was about to say something to you before you heard the sounds of keys at the front door. You knew that it must’ve been your dad at the door, struggling to get his keys, so you helped him. However, Joel stopped you from getting up after he put his arm in front of you as he got off the couch.

“I’ll help him, sweetheart,” he says as he winks at you and makes his way to the door to help your dad.

Oh, Joel.

As soon as Joel opens the door, they both loudly greet each other. He grabs the bags out of your dad's hands and makes his way to the kitchen, where he helps him put things away.

A part of you knew deep down that it was going to be a long night.

…

About halfway through the game, you were falling asleep as you sat comfortably in the corner of the couch, covered in your blanket. However, your dad and Joel made sure to keep you up as they talked loudly to each other or even loudly cursed at the TV.

Suddenly, your dad’s phone began to ring loudly, interrupting their conversation.

You could hear the groan of the leather recliner as your dad stretched out so that he could reach into his pocket to grab his phone.

“Ah, fuck,” your dad says as he looks at the caller ID. “Gotta take this real quick,” your dad says as he gets up and looks at Joel. “Let me know what happens,” he says as he gestures to the TV, to which Joel nods his head. Joel watched as your dad shuffled down the hall and into his office before shutting the door behind him.

It was now just the two of you, alone.

You knew he was watching you because you could feel Joel’s gaze burning into your skin, and you were trying your hardest not to look at him. You sat there, as stiff as a board, as your breathing began to pick up.

“You alright there, darlin’? You look a little nervous over there."

“I’m fine, Joel,” you said curtly as you kept your eyes on the TV.

He lets out a deep hum, and you almost feel yourself relax as you believe that is the end of your interaction. But Joel speaks again: “Why don’t you come sit with me, sweetheart?" he said as he patted the open spot next to him on the couch.

You look over at him, and you see that he has this smirk on his face. “I ain’t gonna bite you too hard, baby,” he winks at you with a click of his tongue. You felt

“Come on and be a good girl before your daddy comes back, yeah?”

It was evident that Joel knew how to talk to you and get you to do anything he wanted because you hesitantly rose off of the couch and made your way over to him. His devilish smirk grows wider, making you even more nervous.

Just as you are about to sit down next to him, Joel grabs your hips with his strong hands, causing you to let out a yelp as you plop down on his lap. And there you were, sitting sideways on his lap with your back against the arm of the couch.

You could feel the anger bubbling inside of you at his actions. You were upset that he would grab you like that.

You turned your head to look at Joel as you began to quietly scold him, afraid that your dad would come out of his office and find you sitting on his friend's lap. “Are you actually out of your fucking mind, Joel? What if my dad-”

Before you could continue, Joel cut you off by placing his warm hand on your thigh with that smirk still on his face. "Oh, darlin’, we’re just sitting here,” he says while looking at you with his brown eyes as he begins to stroke close to your inner thigh with his fingers. “Unless you want me to do somethin’ else," he almost whispers to you as he strokes his fingers further up your thigh.

You turned your focus away from Joel and to where he was touching you, nearly letting out soft whimpers, but you stopped yourself before they could escape your mouth. “You like that, baby?" He says this as he holds his other hand, resting on the couch, to the back of your neck, holding a firm grip.

Rather than responding, you just shook your head, leaving Joel unsatisfied because he knew you were lying. He takes his hand from your thigh and brings it to your neck. Now, both of his hands were holding you in place by your neck, and you would be lying again if you said you didn’t enjoy this.

“Don’t fuckin lie to me, girl. Look me in the eyes and tell me you liked it,” he says as his erection grows.

You decided you were going to have fun as well.

With his firm grip of both of his hands around your neck, you try your best to turn your head and look at him fully. You look down at his lips before looking into his eyes. “Mm, I loved it, Joel."

And you were going to take it a step further by placing your hand over his on your throat and making him grip it tighter. “I love it so much, Daddy." You whispered even though the TV volume was high enough that your dad wouldn’t hear what was going on.

You watch the smirk leave his face, and this dark look flashes in his eyes; he’s serious now.

“I bet you do, baby,” he says in his husky voice as his fingers dig into your neck. You move your hand down to his wrist as your other one goes for his pointer finger and brings it to your warm mouth. Joel inhales sharply as you suck on the tip of his finger and tease your tongue around it. The sensation of you sucking on his finger immediately shot down to his cock, causing it to strain in his pants, and you could feel it against your thigh.

Everything about the situation turned Joel on—something about the thrill of his best friend walking out of his office and seeing his daughter sitting on his lap while she sucked on his finger turned him on. He watched closely as your lips were wrapped around his finger, watching as the spit slid down his finger.

It felt like the two of you were in your world before hearing your dad’s office door swing open. The two of you immediately began to panic; you pulled Joel’s finger out of your mouth and threw yourself off of his lap and onto the cushion next to him as you heard your dad’s footsteps creeping closer to the living room. There wasn’t much time to scoot away from Joel without looking suspicious, but you tried to leave an appropriate amount of space between you two.

In the corner of your eye, you see Joel drop his hands down onto his lap to cover his erection.

“Well, what happened?” Your dad asked as he flopped down into his leather recliner with a groan.

“Not sure,” Joel says coolly as he reaches over to grab his beer from the coffee table and takes a quick sip—still trying to cover himself.

“What the hell do you mean? You were right here the whole time." Your dad further pushes for an answer.

God, if only he knew the real reason, he’d freak out. He’d probably do more than freak out.

“We were talkin’ the whole time; wasn’t even payin’ attention,” Joel said with amusement. “Ain’t that right, darlin’?” he says as he gently nudges your knee. Meanwhile, you could feel your face heating with embarrassment at his words, knowing they weren’t true. What the two of you were doing was far from just talking.

You looked over at Joel with a wide, fake smile and said, “Yup, that’s right. Joel was just showing me something on his phone."

Your dad mutters something under his breath as he turns his attention to the game, causing you to finally drop the fake smile. Meanwhile, you and Joel are still staring at each other; more so, you are giving him a death glare while he looks at you with an entertained gleam in his eyes. Once he did look away, you couldn't take your eyes off of him.

You didn’t know if you were mad or if you wanted to fuck him.

…

For the rest of the time, you busied yourself by being on your phone the whole time. The conversation between Joel and your dad had come to a stop after your dad kicked his feet up on his recliner, laid back, and went to sleep, leaving Joel to watch the game by himself silently.

Whenever Joel got bored or there was a commercial break, he would pick up his phone and check his email or text messages before setting his phone back down and letting out a loud huff.

There was a part of you that felt bad for not making conversation with him, but you were unable to shake the sexual tension that lingered between you two.

You drop your phone on your lap before turning to Joel and clearing your throat to catch his attention. “Can I get you water or something?” You ask Joel over the sound of the football commentator's laughter and your dad’s snoring.

Joel’s eyes move from the TV to you, making you feel nervous now that his attention is on you. “I’m good, darlin’,” he says as he gives you a quick, small smile before turning his gaze back to the game.

You just nodded your head, even though he wasn’t looking at you, and attempted to distract yourself with your phone again.

So much for making conversation, you think to yourself as you cringe with embarrassment.

In the midst of you scrolling through your Instagram feed, you feel a warm, callused hand snake onto your thigh, almost scaring the living hell out of you until you realized it was’s hand Joe

You both sat silently, making no attempt to move an inch as his hand rested on the inside of your thigh, almost as if he were waiting for you to push his hand away, but you never did.

Instead, you make sure that your dad is still sound asleep before you shift your body towards Joel, inching your body closer to him. You adjusted yourself so that your left leg was up with the blanket draped over it, while the other one rested halfway on Joel’s thigh. If your dad were to wake up, it’s not like he would know what you and Joel were doing.

He starts to stroke your thigh before slowly moving his hand up and stopping at the band of your sweatpants. Your heart was racing, so eager for him to touch you.

Without looking, Joel’s fingers find the waistband of your sweatpants, causing your breathing to hitch and your heart to beat faster. Once his fingers sip in, he slowly reaches your center. You felt as if you were on the brink of cumming right then and there. His touch was slow and sensual, as he gently teased your clit as he spread your arousal.

Who knew a man like him could touch you like this?

You felt your senses becoming clouded as he did this. Oh fuck, you whimpered a little too loudly before you could even realize it, making you slap your hand over your mouth.

Joel looks down at you, continuing to spread your wetness around. “You okay, darlin’?” He asks you so casually, as if his hands are not in your pants, rubbing your clit. You can see the look in his eyes as his eyebrows quirked, waiting for you to answer him.

Mmhm, you whimper after letting out a shaky sigh as you finally release your hand from over your mouth.

He leaned over so he could whisper to you, “You like that, baby? You like when I play with that pretty pussy?” You nodded in response as you bit down on your bottom lip, fearing that if you did open your mouth, you would immediately wake up your dad. “I know you do; you like it when daddy makes you feel good, yeah?”

Joel’s eyes quickly shifted to your dad before looking back at you. That’s when his slow circles became faster. Again, you slapped your hand over your mouth, trying to conceal any noises, while the other clawed at Joel’s forearm. Your thighs trembled as you neared the edge of your orgasm; your eyes were closed, and your head dropped onto Joel’s shoulder.

“Y'gonna cum, girl?” Joel says lowly, his fingers never letting up as he applies more pressure. “Answer me, or else you won’t cum at all.” You tried to get the words to come out of your mouth, but you couldn't, as the knot in your stomach was nearly unraveled for him.

Sticking to his word, Joel watched as you got closer and closer to your orgasm—watching the way your hand tried to wrap around his wrist, the way that you held your breath, or the way your toes wiggled in your socks before going completely still—that's when he knew you were about to cum.

However, he quickly pulled his hand from your pants, leaving you in a state of disappointment and shock. It was almost hilarious to Joel as he watched the wave of disappointment and anger flash over your face. He knew you wanted to scold him, but he didn’t care.

“Aw, you mad, baby?” Joel teased, making you roll your eyes at him. “You should be a good girl next time and listen.”

Then, an idea pops into your head.

“Come to the bathroom with me." You whisper to him before getting up and running to the bathroom, not waiting for an answer from him.

You were determined to get your way with him, even if that meant having your way with him in your bathroom.

Once you were in the bathroom, your heart was pounding as you listened to the sound of Joel’s heavy feet making their way up the stairs and to the bathroom.

He softly knocks on the door with his knuckle before he opens the door halfway and slips inside. As soon as he shut the door behind himself and turned around to you, you grabbed Joel by his collar and smashed your lips against his. Even though you had shocked Joel with your forwardness, he had no problem returning your kiss. His hands were pawing at your back as you began to release his collar and go down to his belt. Joel’s cock strained in his pants as you hurriedly undid his belt and pants.

Once you did finally get it open and pull his pants down enough to gain access to his cock, you broke the kiss and looked down.

You gasp, and your mouth waters at the sight.

The dark hairs that sat on the base complimented Joel’s thick, heavy cock beautifully.

You drag your fingers through the fuzz before gripping his shaft and stroking down to the head of his cock. He softly moans your name. “Is this all for me, Joel?” You asked him as you looked into his eyes, and his grip on your back tightened.

He had to keep his composure as you began to stroke him at a slow pace. “All for you, baby,” he says, his eyes looking deeply into yours with a look you can only describe as lustful. He looked at you as if he were going to devour you, and you would gladly let him.

With every stroke, Joel would pull you closer to him, still making eye contact as you did it.

“Does my hand feel good wrapped around your cock, Joel?” You cooed at him and began to speed up your pace on his heavy cock, not giving him any time to respond. His eyebrows immediately frowned with pleasure as he licked his lips. “You like it when I stroke you like this?”

Because of his lack of response, you reach your arm up to bring his head close to your face, still stroking his cock. “Come on, Joel. Answer me.” You ask him lowly in his ear, demanding from him like he did to you on the couch. After you said this, you felt him immediately thrust into your fist as his hands flew down on you and he groaned into your neck.

“Feels so good, darlin’,” he says, borderline moaning at the way you were making him feel.

Not that Joel was getting laid daily, but when he did, women never acted this way with him. It was usually him who was the dominant one calling the shots, but he liked what you were doing to him. And it was wrong—it was wrong for him to love it this much, especially because of how much younger you were than him and because your dad is one of his closest friends.

You feel his facial hair on your neck as he begins to place soft kisses there. “You’re so big, Joel.” You whimper, still stroking him. “I want you to fuck me."

“Yeah?” he says against your neck before grunting. “You think you can handle this cock, darlin’?”

"You think you can handle me, old man?” You say it back to him, trying to get under his skin, which worked because he pulled away from your neck and looked at you with a cocked eyebrow.

“Come on, take your clothes off, darlin’,” he tells you as he tugs at your shirt and releases you from his hold. You start by pulling off your shirt and then going to your bottoms. While you did this, you took in Joel’s appearance.

He stood there with his jean shirt exposing his chest and neck, his curls wildly laid against his forehead, and his hard cock hanging out of his pants. He looked like something straight out of a porn magazine.

Joel noticed that you were struggling with your bra as he watched you try to unhook it. “Here, let me help you, darlin’.” You nodded your head and turned around.

In the mirror, you can see Joel shamelessly eyeing your ass before looking back up and meeting your eyes in the mirror. You look back at him with a cocked eyebrow, letting him know that you saw him staring at your ass. And without saying anything, he steps forward and gives your ass a quick spank, causing an echo in the bathroom. You let out a yelp—surprised and turned on at the same time.

“Joel,” you scold him as you look at him through the mirror.

Yeah, yeah, was all he said as he brushed off your words. He quickly undoes your bra before sliding the straps down your arms with his fingertips and letting the undergarment fall onto the floor. While he did this, you felt a tingle run down your spine as you began to form goosebumps on your arm, and your nipples hardened.

“Fuck, look at that." His voice trails off as he looks at your breasts through the mirror. “Lookin’ so desperate for your daddy, ain’t that right, darlin'?" You watch as his arms snake around you before he cups your breasts. Thoughtlessly, you nodded your head in agreement with him; however, in the midst of that, Joel began to tweak your nipples with his thumb and pointer fingers.

He lets out a deep hum, almost in approval, as he takes in the sight of you two and gives your nipple one last tug before his left hand trails down slowly, while the right is still cupping your breast. Joel’s fingers dove between your thighs, teasingly rubbing his warm, thick fingers on your lips as he gathered the arousal that dripped from you. You release a muffled whine as you press your lips shut.

“Jesus Christ, darlin’,” Joel growls in your ear as he brings his hand to eye level to observe your wetness that was clinging onto his fingers before licking it off. You watch through the mirror as he licks every last drop off of his fingers. “Fucking delicious,” he mutters quietly as he pulls them out of his mouth before placing a soft kiss on your neck and shoulder.

You feel your stomach tighten with longing for the older man, and your head becomes fizzy, making you close your eyes and roll your head to the side.

That was until Joel moved his hand from your breast and up to your throat. “Uh-uh, I want you to keep lookin’,” he says firmly, causing your eyes to flutter open and catch his eyes in the mirror. “That’s right, darlin’,” Joel mutters.

With the size of his hand, he had a firm grip on your neck, ensuring your head did not move from the mirror.

Joel brings his fingers back down to your pussy and brings your lower half closer to his. As he played with your clit, you could feel him humping against your ass, spreading his precum on it. You tried so hard to stop the moans from slipping out. It was to the point that you could almost feel the skin on your bottom lip begin to tear.

You let out a huff of air before looking at Joel with pleading eyes. “Fuck, Joel I-I need you to fuck me. Please,” You beg him in your softest voice.

“You’d like that? Wouldn’t you, darlin’?” Joel taunts you while still rubbing a circle around your clit.

"Yes!" you moaned at him.

“I know you would, pretty girl,” While playing with your clit, Joel spoke lowly in your ear again. “Daddy’s gonna take good care of you; don’t worry.”

Without wasting a second, he releases his grip around your neck and moves his hands away from your pussy. He places his hand on your back and slowly pushes you over the sink, while he uses the other to spread your legs open. Your hands grip the sides of the sink with your face inches away from the mirror, breathing heavily as you watch Joel.

You could feel your pussy clench around nothing as he grabbed onto your waist and spit onto his fingers before rubbing it onto his cock. Joel teases your slit with the fleshy tip of his cock, forcing a mixture of a moan and a groan out of your mouth. You push your ass against him, hoping that he'll allow himself to enter you. And he does.

The moment his head pushed into you, you could feel yourself stretching around him as you both met each other's thrust. Straightaway, you and Joel were gasping at the sensation.

“Holy hell, darlin’,” Joel groans shakily as his eyes clamp. “Tight fuckin’ cunt you got.”

“You’re so big,” you weep quietly to him as you begin to slowly fuck yourself onto his cock. “I can feel you deep in me.”

Joel let out a breathy chuckle. “Fuck—look at you, so fucking desperate for my cock,” he taunts while he strokes your ass with his wide palm, making an effort not to bring it down onto your ass cheek. “Tell me how much you like having me in you."

This made you want to keep going, wanting to keep pleasing Joel, so you picked up. You made sure to throw your ass back on him as much as possible.

“So much—I love it so much, fucking much, daddy."

You weren’t sure where this was coming from, but you liked it.

“Oh fuck, I know you do, baby. Keep fucking yourself onto my cock." Joel nearly growls as you watch him in the mirror intently. You watch as he looks down, where you are both connected with a slack jaw, taking in the view.

You are now making it your mission to make him cum. And for some reason, you didn’t mind prioritizing Joel’s pleasure over your own—with past hookups, you made it your priority to get yours before letting them get theirs first.

But this was something different; you liked being able to make a man like Joel cum first.

The sound of your ass hitting his front was loud, and his heavy breathing almost made you cum. But with a lot of restraint, you were able to keep yourself from letting your eyes roll to the back of your head and watch Joel inch closer to his orgasm.

“Cum for me, Joel,” you moan, encouraging him as he curses. You thought that he was going to thrust into you as he held you in place, but instead, you felt him quickly pull out of you, resting his damp forehead on your back as he tried to catch his breath. You let out a whine of disappointment. “Why’d you pull out?”

It took him a couple of seconds to respond, “I been wanting to fuck you since I first laid eyes on you, pretty girl. You think I’d cum that fast?" He asked you.

“Now, come on, put your leg up so Daddy can go deeper, baby.” He tells you as he taps your thigh.

Deeper? How much deeper does he need to go? You ask yourself; nonetheless, you still did as he said, a little curious.

You tightly grip the sink and begin to put your feet on the toilet lid. Joel makes sure to hold onto your hips and guide your foot. “Trust me, sweetheart, it’ll feel real good,” he says with a grin.

He firmly grabs your hips and drills into you without any warning. “Oh my god,” you moan loudly while deeply inhaling. “Fuck, Joel!” you said, feeling overwhelmed by the feeling of the tip of Joel’s cock pressed deeply inside of you.

With this new position, you could feel every inch of him in you—the head of his cock, his shaft, the way his cock twitched when he felt your pussy fluttering around him.

“I know, it’s okay,” he says after he hushes you, attempting to keep you quiet. “You just gotta—fuck—you gotta stay quiet.”

An ache formed in Joel’s lower back from his speed, and he knew it would fuck up his whole day tomorrow, but that didn’t stop him.

You feel Joel’s fingers grab a handful of your hair, starting from the root, and tug your body to his.

He noticed that your eyes were tightly closed as he continued to brutally thrust into you. With his grip still firm on your hair, he grabs your neck with his other hand and holds you in place. “Op-open your eyes, pretty girl. Look at yourself while I fuck this tight pussy of yours,” Joel grunts into your ear, making you whimper.

You force yourself to open your eyes, and when you do, the familiar knot in your stomach almost comes undone.

“Don’t stop, baby." Your voice quivers as your legs tremble. But with Joel’s grip on your neck, he stops you from going down. “I-I’m gonna cum,”

The bathroom was filled with all types of noises as he was now slowly fucking you through your orgasm.

“Cum for daddy, darlin’, cum all over my cock.”

And that’s when you finally came.

Over the sounds of skin slapping and the squelching from your wet pussy, Joel talks you through your orgasm, whispering how much of a good girl you were for him and how good you were making him feel.

He finally slowed down his pace as you came down. He could feel your cunt pulsate on his cock, bringing him to his climax.

Joel releases you and pulls out before jerking off on your ass and spilling his warm seed onto your soft skin.

“Oh my god, Joel,” you moan as you feel the thick, milky white substance paint your ass. By the second spurt of cum hitting your ass, he bites down on your shoulder, trying to silence his loud, tired groans as he cums.

You made Joel cum harder than he ever did before.

After a few deep breaths later, you and Joel had finally calmed down, feeling fucked out and tired.

He lets out a sigh before wiping the sweat off his forehead and looking down at the watch on his wrist. “Alright, darlin’,” he says as he tucks himself back into his pants and fixes his shirt. “Gotta get out of here before your old man wakes up."

“It was a little too late for you to say that now,” you joke with a relaxed grin on your face as you turn around to him to get one more look at him. It quickly fell when you realized that Joel could hardly look you in the eyes. “You okay?”

He tries to give you his best phony smile while attempting to look you in the eyes. ”I’m fine, sweetheart; I gotta get home to Sarah before it gets too late." Joel lies through his teeth and avoids eye contact again, hoping that you couldn’t see through him. “You should get yourself cleaned up and ready for bed. I’ll straighten up and use the spare to lock the door when I go." He nods his head at you in a bid to say bye and reaches for the doorknob as if he wasn’t balls deep in you a few minutes ago.

You move out of his way, and he leaves without either of you saying another word to each other.

And there you were—naked, ass covered in his cum, embarrassed, and hurt.

A/N: i will make a masterlist soon i swear but I hope y'all liked it!! *MWAH*

#smut #the last of us #joel x reader #joel miller #joel the last of us #joel miller smut #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x reader #neighbor!joel #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #dads best friend #dbf!joel #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel miller x reader #dbf!joel x you

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queer-trashmouth · 2 years ago

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I’m obsessed w/ the polls (crédit to @inthefallofasparrow for the idea)

#polls #me #I love thèse >:3

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taiyouhimerich · 3 months ago

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Childhood best friend!Leon Headcanons

warns&tags: a bit of kids age, going to teenagers; mentions of sexual activity, but not between characters (jus a bit of teenage masturbation under cut), but it’s mainly fluffy and cute, i sweeeeaaaaar!!!! and this is going to be a slowburn!!!

a/n: haven’t written anything for a while, but I feel like i wanna make it in several parts and it’ll look cool, i swear!

MNDI!!!

childhood best friend!Leon, whom you met when you were 5 and he was 6; who was the first child you managed to make friends with after moving with your parents

childhood best friend!Leon, who lived in the house next door, the parents of both of you often went to each other's barbecue, so the children always needed to be together and play

childhood best friend!Leon, who on one of these evenings invites you to look at his tree house, because you are also his best friend

childhood best friend!Leon, who says that you look like a princess in this dress, and you start playing princess and knight, sometimes going downstairs to steal a new plate of cookies from his parents' kitchen

childhood best friend!Leon, who remembers this game every time you go to school together on the school bus, and thinks that he will continue to be your knight to protect you from bullies

now you're both teenagers, you're 14, and he'll be 16 in a few months, but you still remember how your childhood best friend!Leon beat up a boy with his backpack who pushed you into a puddle when you were in elementary school

your windows are facing each other, you see each other every day and if you weren't afraid to fall, you could even try to climb into each other's bedrooms, and you laugh every morning because your childhood best friend!Leon leaves you funny messages on his window because he knows that you will definitely look there.

childhood best friend!Leon, who accompanies you every Sunday to the church that your parents force you to go to, sits on a bench next to the entrance from the outside, and then escorts you back to the house, smiling when you tell him with a radiant smile about what happened at mass

childhood best friend!Leon, with whom you talk heart to heart every night; who is very worried when he tells for the first time that Mr. and Mrs. Kennedy took him from an orphanage, and you hug him back, muttering words of support, and say that this fact will not change anything in your relationship

and this is the moment when he feels that you are not just his best friend... you are like family, and he trusts you a thousand times more than anyone else. and he wants it to always be like this.

childhood best friend!Leon, who is now starting to find excuses not to come with his parents to your family on weekends when you have a pool party, because he is shy... but he cannot decide of what: of his body changing due to puberty or of your... beautiful girlish body in a pink bikini, which literally makes him staring at your breasts and feeling like a pervert

and every time he feels incredible shame and guilt, when after that you see each other in a normal setting, and you ask with an offended face why he didn't come, and he has to lie to you

childhood best friend!Leon, who often dreams of you, and in his dreams you play something like jenga or monopoly, and every time he feels happy and wants to stay in these dreams, thinking how lucky he is to be friends with you....

...until he wakes up with a morning wood after one of these dreams

god, he dreamed of something so simple and usual, like you two hanging out on a swing or building sand castles, and he never thought of you that way... he doesn't know what the reason for this reaction of his body is, and he is gnawed by guilt when he jerks off, hiding under a blanket from shame

it's hard for you not to notice that over time his excuses become more and more monotonous and even not entirely plausible, and then he leaves for the rest of the summer for a sports camp, and this makes you sad

childhood best friend!Leon is becoming more and more detached from you due to the fact that he cannot sort himself out and the mixed feelings circulating in his body, and even when he returns from a trip right before the start of the school year, he feels that it did not help: he is still ashamed to look into your eyes and it gets worse with his realization that he's acting like a coward by avoiding you.

childhood best friend!Leon, who no longer huddles with you in the corridors of the school during recess, he found a company of good guys and even focused on his studies, and you seem to have found a common language with several girls... and maybe with guys too. even with some of the people Kennedy hangs out with now after school: he frowns, clenches his jaw and shuts up every time one of his friends says your name and calls you pretty. at such moments, the word ‘princess’ literally is on the tip of his tongue, painfully stinging....

childhood best friend!Leon, who one day notices a piece of paper on your window with the inscription ‘knock knock who's there? a mud puddle’, and it makes him smile. he doesn't get the joke, but he finds it funny and sweet how you still remember that thing... and feels ashamed of himself again

the next time you really see your childhood best friend!Leon happens almost before Christmas, when he finds you on the stairs at the end of the corridor in the middle of lessons (which is strange, because he is sure that you would never skip lessons), and he first wants to pretend that he is not going this way, because then you will not notice him, but...he can't. you cry, and it breaks his heart

you can barely hear your thoughts while your palm is smearing tears and mascara on your cheeks, when suddenly someone sits down next to you on the step, and strong arms hug you by the shoulders. you sniffle, looking up, and your childhood best friend!Leon looks at you, pursing his lips and waiting for you to say something. are you mad that he left you? it that why you're crying? do you even want him to be here now?

but with trembling lips you mutter a quiet "Leon...." and he breaks down, hugging you tightly and pulling you closer. making you sob louder when you bury your forehead in his shoulder, and he begins to soothingly stroke your hair, noting that you are still using the same shampoo with the baby smell of chewing gum

childhood best friend!Leon, who can't help but kiss your hair in the temple area while he soothingly whispers,

“Shh, come on, sweetheart.... Who did this to you?”

you are silent, and it upsets him. he knows that this is not enough for you, it never happened, so he continues, smiling slightly and muttering,

“I'm sorry.... Do you want me to kick his ass and beat the shit out of him?”

you're still silent for a bit, but then you ask softly, with a stuttering voice,

“With your backpack? Like when I was in first grade?”

he laughs softly in response to your words, smiling as he pulls back slightly to look into your eyes. his fingers stroke your cheeks, wiping away the remnants of tears and responding,

“Yeah, just like that.”

he raises one hand, leaving his little finger sticking out as he speaks, tremulously and tenderly,

“I promise. I'm your knight, right? I can't not protect my princess.”

you nod, gradually ceasing to sob and starting to smile stupidly as you hold out your little finger to him, quietly answering,

“I promise.... I missed you, Leon....”

“I missed you too... I’m sorry....”

he says in response, and you interlace your pinky fingers, like when you were kids, when you swore to be friends forever. You've still got to talk again, really talk, but there's nothing more important to him right now than knowing that you're okay. he repeats to himself in his head that you are the most important person to him, and you are happily thinking that your best friend and beloved knight has returned to you again. although the best friend of childhood!Leon still has to explain to Mrs. Kennedy later how he got the mascara stains on the shoulder of his only white shirt.

#leon kennedy resident evil #leon kennedy re2 #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy re4 #taiyouhime #resident evil headcanons #re headcanons #re2 leon #re2 remake #leon kennedy headcanons

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tinytennisskirt · 4 months ago

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Your 'rumours' fic was so adorable!!! I'd love to see some childhood bestfriends with Art from you, like reader just following him around like a puppy since childhood and at first he doesn't know how what to do with her but then she starts to grow on him,

UGH, what's it feel like to be loved???

-🍃

More Than Anything

Summary: ^above^ with a twist of angst and a few changed plot points. Art and his childhood best friend navigate the forces that pull them apart. Whatever he does, she does. He’s not sure what else is more natural than being her best friend. And no matter what she’s told, that will never change.

Warnings: fluff! drinking, mean Patrick, mentions of weed, mentions of sex, one mention of the risk of being roofied (nobody is roofied), a little ANGST. And a kiss.

Little Art Donaldson was having a day at the park when he met a little girl. It was you and there was much to babble about when there were so many things to do at the park and you, in a tiny voice, said you’d never been to the park before. Art took you by the little hand and you willingly followed as he showed you every single section that there was, even the swings.

Art, young, when met with lunch, he dropped his sandwich in the sand. He cried- the meat and lettuce all covered in grains and small pieces of sticks wasn’t a big issue but for a kid, it was quite upsetting to not have a lunch anymore.

You were more little, two years younger than Art, but you knew just what to do. Picnic lunch with your family nearby, stood next to him and asked if he wanted to come have some food with your family. You didn’t know you couldn’t just invite crying kids to eat with you. You were just too young, too pure.

He said yes, obviously. His dad was somewhere nearby on his phone, business call. Didn’t notice Art was sitting at your picnic bench eating fried chicken and watermelon with you and your parents.

Your mom was a sweet woman, so of course she’d never say no to a starved child. Art’s father found him no problem. He wasn’t a bad man either- not angry. In fact he sat down to eat with them and by the end of the meal they’d set up a time to come by and play another day.

From that day on, your parents befriended and you and Art became best friends. Self-proclaimed. Art didn’t know how to play anything but video games and baseball and he slowly got more into tennis, which he tried to show you. You weren’t that good at anything he did, but still, you would play together in the sandbox, run around each other’s yard. It felt like an endless summer with you two. If one of you was out and playing, so was the other. Usually more revolving around what Art did. It was simple, easy, fun. Anywhere Art would go, you were there too. It helped each other’s parents get a little peace every now and then or let them hang out as adults.

You maintained your personality, just as sweet as candy but with a boyish love for adventure, as your mom would say. That boyish side definitely came from Art. Where he was, you were, no matter what. Even if it was up a steep hill, even if it was the river nearby, even if it was the ant hill and you both got a million bug bites. Every scrape you shared, every bruise you compared in the backyard on the tire swing, every scrape from your bikes. Everything was shared.

You were a little in love with him. Even from a young age, the moment you could think boys were cute, you thought Art was the most adorable. It was platonic love, of course. The capacity to truly love wasn’t there, just pending…

And you and Art grew up together. You pursued different hobbies but still found the time, even with school. It was easy the first few years, you were only in kindergarten and then it was elementary. Apparently once you hit grade three you’re not supposed to hang out with anyone younger. Art wasn’t sure what to do, but he spent lunch recess with his friends and first and last recess with you anyway.

One thing was for sure. It was that you would follow him around like you didn’t know any other way, when he was nearby. You’d do whatever he did, even if he invited his other friends. A lot of the neighbourhood kids assumed he was your annoying sister, even when Art said you weren’t. You were just a little girl who liked to stick around.

That was how it was all elementary school until Art was in grade nine and you were still in seventh. The dynamic changed- he was still playing tennis, still seeing you, but more when your parents would see each other. Otherwise Art was with Patrick.

You knew Patrick well. He was around and so were you. Sometimes Patrick was nice, sometimes he wasn’t, but he was just a kid. You’d call Art sometimes and Patrick would pick up and just say “he’s busy!” And hang up. You had other friends but knowing someone pretty much your whole life, having a small itty bitty tiny crush your whole life, and having them turned away by a new crowd was a little hard. He still found time.

Art didn’t know what to do with you when he went to high school. It was weird you were still so young to him.

“Art,” you said. You were finally in high school and found him in the hall. “I can’t find the math classroom, I was wondering-“

“Take a left at the corner and it’s right there. Good luck, I’ll see you later, gotta go!” It sucked, but it was fine. If you had the chance, you’d tag along, still sporting the same following attitude. You went where he did.

Art was cute, yeah, but when he graduated you thought less. Sure you’d follow him wherever, but you had wanted to go to Stanford much longer than he had. Screw him and his two years on you, he was already enrolled. And he moved away.

You barely had a life when he was gone. It was all stupid. He called you every few days and of course you picked up the second your phone rang but it was still stupid. You’d call him whenever you liked which was much more often- and sometimes he’d pick up, other times he wouldn’t.

You and Art hung out a few days before college started. You walked through the city around Stanford, talking in the park. His choice of location. “It’s good to be in the same area as you again,” he said. You smiled as the wind blew your hair around your face, warm. “I don’t have to call now.”

“You didn’t like the phone calls?” You asked.

“No, I loved them, don’t get me wrong, they’re effective. You have no idea how good it was to hear your voice when I missed home.”

Your smile turned into a grin, he matched it. “Now what do we do when we both miss home?” You asked. He laughed and bumped against your shoulder.

“I’ll just call your mom,” he said. You both laughed at his immature humour. It was good to be back with him, he was right.

“Uh huh and I’ll call your dad, no hesitation,” you teased. He shoved you a little so you stumbled a few steps off the path. “I’m sure he’d love to hear all about you and your adventures with marijuana.” You poked him in the ribs as you regained your position on the path. He grinned his crooked grin, the one you knew so well.

“I’d just have to tell your mom that you actually have had your first kiss and you aren’t her perfect little princess anymore.” He said.

“She’d never believe you,” you pretended to judge him, eyes narrowed. “She’d die, she’s so Catholic, Art, she’s sooo Catholic.” You fake groaned and he laughed. It was good to know that even though the distance made things feel odd, the dynamic somewhat returned when you were together again.

“She is so Catholic, but I’m sure she’d be fine with it, come on…” He ruffled your hair up and you gasped.

“Art- my hair took like an hour to braid- and she would die, I’m sure of it. On the spot. Unless you want her to die, I suggest you keep that secret.”

“And you keep your secret about the weed?”

“Deal.”

“Deal.” He repeated, pulling you into a quick hug, smile on his face. He’d missed you. He let you go. But his phone buzzed, it was Patrick, who he said he’d meet. He lost track of time with you. “Shit, Y/N. I made plans to play pool with a friend. I have to run, but I’ll see you soon, okay?” He was already stepping back. You were going to ask where he played pool, you were going to ask who with, just curious, but he was already on the run. It was fine.

Your first day at Stanford, 18 years old, you found yourself in his exact residency building, just on the girls end. It was convenient. Your parents had just left. You had your hair up in a claw clip as you set all your pictures up in the room, covered and made the bed. Your roommate was really nice already, sharing a bag of chips and telling you she brought a mini fridge you could both use. You had a feeling you’d love it there. Stanford was the dream.

You were bringing another box in when Art passed you. “Art!” you said, dropping your box. Art turned, confused.

“Y/N?” He said. He knew you were here just not in his building. He pulled you into a quick hug. “You got a room in this residence? You didn’t even tell me.” He let go.

“I didn’t know which you were in, I didn’t even think it might be the same,” you giggled. He smiled. You looked at the box you dropped. Art kept walking down the hallway, you left all your things to follow. “How are you?” You asked, walking just a bit behind him.

“I’m good! I just was out for lunch,” He said. “Uh- come, I’ll show you my room.” He didn’t expect you to follow him the way you did, but it was always okay. “It’s great you’re here. I would hang out but there’s a party tonight, the frat throws one every year for newcomers.”

You weren’t a party person. “Are you going?”

“I think so yeah, me and a few of my friends. You remember Patrick.” You were glad you hadn’t seen Patrick in a few years, honestly. “He’s over right now in my room, actually. You can say hi.”

“Perfect,” you said, following him up the steps and through the boys-side lounge. “Can I go with you?”

He nodded, swallowing. He knew you didn’t go to parties, he was planning on seeing you tomorrow night. “Uh… yeah. Yes. I don’t see why not, you’ve been to parties right?” He pretended like he didn’t know.

“No,” you replied.

“Okay, well you’ve been drunk at least.”

“No,” you answered. You might have if you’d been around while Art started his late-highschool-early-college drinking era. “Is that bad? Should I have?”

“Not necessarily,” Art chuckled. You were exactly the sweet girl he knew. “Means it’ll happen faster. I have drinks you can have if you want them. This is my room-“ he opened the door to the dorm room and it wasn’t much. Pretty normal, some tennis posters, some video game stuff lying around and Patrick in a spinning computer chair with headphones on. “Patrick.” Art said, hitting his friend in the back of the head.

You looked around, eyes everywhere, then on Patrick as he spun around. His eyes widened and he looked at Art, then you. Art spoke up as Patrick took his headphones off, “You remember Y/N.”

It had been a while since you and Patrick had seen each other. As annoying as he used to be, he was much taller. More hair, more muscle, taller. He wasn’t bad looking, you noted. You didn’t know Patrick was noting the same, just a little more male-oriented in his ways of thinking. “Holy shit, hi.” Patrick said.

“Hey,” you replied, smiling. You could let bygones be bygones. Everyone here was an adult now. “How are you?”

“I’m good, how are you?” Patrick asked.

You were surprised he seemed civil. “I’m good, thank you.” Your smile turned into a grin. “It’s good to see you both.”

“You’ll be back here at seven, hm?” Art squeezed your upper arm gently. He turned to Patrick, “She’s coming with us tonight.”

Patrick narrowed his eyes at you. “Is she even eighteen?” He spoke like you weren’t there- that was the Patrick you remembered.

“Yes, she’s eighteen. And she’s with us, so she’s fine.” He turned back to you. “You go get settled in, we’ll see you later.” He dismissed you- you would have stayed if he didn’t say so.

You waved and said goodbye and the hours passed. You unpacked and got ready, putting on something cute. Your roommate was going too, said she would see you there. At ten past seven, you knocked on Art’s dorm room door.

Patrick opened the door, “It’s her,” he called to Art, looking you dead in the eyes. “You look terrifying with eyeliner.” He remarked with a smile.

You laughed. “Thanks.”

Art rushed out of the bathroom, buttoning up his open shirt. “No, you look great.” He rushed past, then turned a bit to look again. “You look really nice actually. Wow.“

You smiled and shrugged. He finished the buttons and grabbed a can from a case under his bed. “Drink this, you’ll like it.” He cracked it open for you and everything.

“Thank you- what’s the rush?”

Patrick shook his head, sipping from his own can. “No rush, he’s just fast.”

You took a sip, it wasn’t great but it was bearable. You scrunched your nose. Art walked by you again, putting his socks and shoes on. “Rules, Y/N.” He said. “Just in case, okay?”

You nodded. “Rules?”

“Rules,” he repeated. “Don’t drink anything anyone offers you, no matter what it looks like. Don’t take any pills or drugs. Don’t leave with anyone without telling me first.” He said. It was a lot more serious than the rules he’d made up for his own version of tag when you were kids. Time was an odd thing…

“Okay,” you agreed. Art stopped in front of you and stole a sip from your drink before raising his eyebrows and grinning.

“You could just put her on a leash,” Patrick chimed in. You cocked your head to the side and shook it slowly at Patrick. Patrick spun in the chair, “Or if she’s anything like she used to be, you won’t need to.”

What was that supposed to mean?

Things progressed and you went to meet some of Art’s friends to drink more before heading over and you enjoyed tagging along. Art let you choose the music in his car and his friends approved of it enough. Some guys, two girls, you. Art.

Two low percentage drinks made you fuzzy. You weren’t even there yet. You weren’t sure what was expected, but it was odd. You clung to Art’s side the whole time, not physically, but you were near.

Eventually you got to the party and it was loud and crowded and easy to lose people in the hoards. Art slipped away somewhere and you didn’t know what to do, so you finished a third can and you were feeling it for sure. It was weird, strange, loopy, almost. You sat on the stairs, just people-watching. Playing it safe instead of mingling. It was fine.

A while passed, though it didn’t feel like it. Patrick was the one to find you, “Have you been here the whole time?” He asked over the music.

“Yeah,” you replied.

“Maybe Art should have put you on a leash,” he chuckled.

You were drunk enough to ask, “What does that even mean?” You stole his drink and he let you, taking a swig and handing it back like drinking was normal, casual. It was not.

“You know how when you used to follow him around all the time? Like a lost puppy?” He laughed like it was something you’d known, like it was obvious. “Everywhere we would go, you were just trailing behind. As kids we couldn’t even go outside without you following us. I knew you were really you when you came here because now you’re gorgeous- which I hate- but you’re still you, following us to this party.”

Part of that was meant to be nice. You could tell Patrick was drunk as well the way he told the truth so easily. But what he said had the ability to sink in and hurt, burning into you like acid. That’s how Patrick, the practical extension of Art- viewed you? Just some sad girl who followed Art around forever?

It stung to hear. “What?” You asked again. As if you didn’t hear. As if your eyes didn’t gloss over. You had no idea. Did you just not pick up on the fact you weren’t wanted there?

“You’re still you. I should have known when you were still calling him all the time from home. Calling and calling and calling. You still follow Art around like you have that schoolgirl crush on him or something, fuck you’re even here at Stanford, he just cannot get rid of you. I never got why you liked him so much, but yeah, you practically invited yourself here with us. It’s not bad to see you, but you know, it’s college. Be your own person.”

It stung, it dug deeper. You blinked back tears, but you knew Patrick didn’t notice at all whatsoever. You looked at your hangs, feeling the embarrassment and shame in your fingertips. “I’m sorry.” You said. You wished you were saying it to Art.

“Hm?” Patrick didn’t hear you. But you stood up and nodded, repeating yourself to him.

“I’m sorry,” you said more firmly. He heard you for sure, his head turned as you walked by, pushing past people and disappearing into the crowd again. You walked out the door and went back to your dorm. There was no point in staying. You’d be your own person, you weren’t one for parties.

You thought about it the whole way. Had you invited yourself and not noticed? You remembered asking. Patrick wasn’t even there when you asked, for fucks sake. You knew Patrick was drunk, but drunk words = sober thoughts, you’d heard. Patrick was mean, that was for sure. You wondered if it even phased him.

You fought tears, rethinking your childhood with Art. How much of it did he want? How much of it was your parents? You took off your party clothes and slipped into the most comfortable t-shirt and shorts and took off your makeup. You sat in your new bed, knees to your chest and just thought, endlessly, over everything.

You knew you and Art wouldn’t be super close forever, obviously you weren’t naive, but he was always the most familiar thing. New places were always explored with him, new things were always tried with him, anything new was always perceived from Art’s side. Even without him there for a while, it was still something you valued. You didn’t realize maybe you’d been clinging. Had you been clinging? Or was he just a close friend? What was the difference?

You let some of your tears fall down your face. You were in school now, it was new, it was supposed to be fun. And you would be your own person this time, you guessed. You fell asleep with the lights on.

The next day you rolled over and looked at six missed calls from Art. He probably wondered if you got home fine or if you broke one of his rules. You didn’t read anything he sent, you just typed out

‘I got home safe’.

And left it at that. It was easiest. You rolled over and out of bed, into an outfit and asked your roommate if she wanted to get coffee with you. She was easily and instantly a great friend. Coffee turned into going to the thrift stores and talking and talking and talking. You knew each other’s life stories by the end of the day.

You had another missed call from Art around 3pm. You’d call him tomorrow, you thought, before Patrick’s voice chimed back into your head. You decided against it. Classes started tomorrow anyway.

The next day, classes were amazing. You had made tons of friends and assembled what felt like the beginnings of a friend group. After class everyone hit the cafeteria for super salty chicken tenders. Everything Patrick said still hurt, but it was good to have the distraction. Other friends. Ones who you were sure wanted you around regardless, even if it meant staying close by.

“Someone came by here for you,” Your roommate told you when you got home. “Said his name was Art?”

“A friend of mine,” you said. How sure were you of that? “Did he say anything?”

“No, just swung by and asked if you were here. I told him you were out and that I didn’t know when you’d be back.” She said. You eyed the dual schedules of yours and hers hanging up above her desk and the both of you smiled. “Just in case.”

You talked the night away again. She was a great listening ear as you confessed the whole thing to her. She was very sweet about it and gave you one of her ice cream sandwiches.

The next day you were laughing and leaving class and Art found you. You didn’t run, hide, you just looked at him. “Hey,” he started. “You haven’t been answering my calls or texts I thought maybe you’d died.” He shrugged sheepishly.

“I’ve just been busy,” you said. It was somewhat true- you’d busied yourself to be a different person, your own person. “Why, what’s up?”

“Nothing, I just-“ Art stopped himself. “You left early and you didn’t tell me.”

“The party?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Patrick said he saw you. Where were you?”

“I was on the stairs before I left. And then I went straight home and right to bed.” You told him honestly. “I’m sorry.” At least now you got to tell him you were sorry. “Look, I have another class in ten across campus, I have to go.”

“I’ll walk you,” he said.

You had to take a deep breath. All you saw in his offer was pity. Obligations. “My friends are waiting on me, I’m sorry. Thanks though.” You dismissed him.

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” he said. He wasn’t used to whatever version of you this was. You were sweet, you were kind, you were always willing to stick around if he needed you. You would always hang back if he was tying his shoelaces, but you wouldn’t even walk with him. “See you around.”

“Bye, Art!” You called from ahead. Part of you felt terrible. It wasn’t normal to do what you just did, but it was essential. How would you be someone uninfluenced if you couldn’t break the habit?

A few more days passed. Art would call every now and then. You would never pick up. You were busy. It was the least contact you’d had with him in your entire life- by choice, at least. Camping and vacations never counted. Your roommate said he’d been by twice more.

Another party came up. A Friday night- you, your roommate, your class friends all wanted to go. It still wasn’t your thing but why couldn’t it be? Reinvention.

No pregaming, just one drink in hand at the party you were talking with your friends in the corner, laughing, having fun. There was a guy in your new friend group that had been showing interest, or at least that’s what your friend said, backed up by your roommate. He was cute but he was your height, not taller. He was nice but said a few things that had made you cringe. You were trying to get into the college era vibe by flirting back but it was all empty.

You had no idea how to flirt with someone who wasn’t picking up on simple hints, but you stood with him, talking to him against the wall, closer than your other friends were.

You felt a hand on your lower back, turning to face Art. His hand raised itself to your upper arm, “Thought you didn’t like parties?” He said. No hello, no hi, no greeting.

“I’m giving it another chance,” you replied. “The first one wasn’t great.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “Can we talk?” He asked. Your roommate stepped in and removed Art’s hand from your arm. It fell to his side. He looked at you, eyes meeting yours in the flashing lights of the party. You’d put off your friendship enough to allow maybe a conversation. He wanted to talk, he’d been wanting to talk, not sure about what but you nodded. “Somewhere quieter?” He suggested, gesturing for you to follow him. You stepped a few steps in the direction you started before realizing you were following him. You tapped his arm.

“This way,” you said. And you changed direction and headed up the stairs. Every room was occupied. You had no idea where you were going, so you turned to two doors in the hall and found yourself on the frat balcony. Greek letters hung just above your head height. Art closed the door behind you both, muting the inside noise. And he just looked at you, hands in his pockets, eyes soft, summer breeze in the air.

You blinked off his gaze, feeling judged, but he knew you were sober aside from a sip or two. Unaffected. “You’ve been busy,” he started. “I called again a few times, was wondering if you wanted to come with me and Patrick to see a showing of Back To The Future in the campus park this weekend.”

You smiled a little to yourself. Back to The Future was a shared favourite between you and Art. Your expression softened. “I’m not too busy…” you said. “But you’re inviting me?”

“Of course I’m inviting you, I haven’t seen you in a week and a half.” He said it like it was the biggest drop of common sense. “I want you to come with us.”

You shook your head, looking at your feet. You didn’t speak. Art spoke instead, “What happened at the first party? I know something happened, I can assume something happened. I lost you and I never found you and the next day you’re different. You’re not you.”

You weren’t you because you weren’t trailing after him on an invisible leash? You sighed heavily, “I don’t know.”

“You do know. I know you. You know. And we tell each other everything, but you’ve gone radio silent.”

You looked over the balcony, at the trees and the way their leaves rustled in the light wind. You folded your arms over your chest, unknowing of how to answer. He spoke again in your silence, “I’ve missed you.” He said.

You looked at him, “Missed me?”

He shrugged, “Yeah, why wouldn’t I? When I missed you before I could just call and you’d answer and now I can’t see you when you’re in the same building as me. I’m used to you being around. It’s different when you’re not.”

Your lip quivered like you wanted to cry and you felt burning behind your eyes, but no tears surfaced, just remembering how you felt when Patrick said what he said. You couldn’t let that go. “I just wasn’t at your heels,” you said.

“Hm?” Art stepped forward.

“Like a lost puppy,” you continued. “I’ve been trying to be my own person. Do things without you, without being on your tail at all times.”

He looked like that hurt him. How would that have hurt him? “What?” He asked it like you said something wild and crazy.

“I didn’t want to be some sad girl who follows you around anymore. I know you have priorities, I know you have friends here that you’ve known and connected with and I think you should be allowed your space… from me.” You said. Part of that was gushing and for the first time you realized that staying away from him had only partially been for you. It was an act of sentiment toward him to allow him to enjoy himself without you as a ball and chain.

Art looked like someone punched him in the stomach for a moment as he processed what you said. He changed expressions to concern, then to disbelief and then he just looked sad. “How did you come to that conclusion? Y/N… What? Space? From you? Like I didn’t go through two years of it already, seeing you only at Christmas and Easter?”

“You have great friends here and you see them all the time and you go out and you go to parties and I just tagged along that night, didn’t I? You were going to the party with your friends and I asked to go with you and you-“

“I said yes!” He said, voice a little louder. Trying to get it across. “I said yes. I didn’t think you would even want to go.”

“I want to be where you are. Or I wanted to be where you were, I missed you. I didn’t mean to invite myself. You could have said no.”

“I wanted you there!” He replied.

“Are you sure? You lost me pretty fast.”

“I spent the rest of the night looking for you! I haven’t spoken to three people from that night because I disregarded their existence looking for you, ruined their nights. I wondered if maybe you got roofied or you were fucking some guy in a bathroom- I-“ He ran his hands through his curls. “You didn’t message me until the next morning, I was still out there looking for you when you messaged me.”

Your lips parted and your mouth suddenly felt very dry. A little breath slipped out, a hush. You looked at him and he looked at you, his eyes soft and kind and sweet and just like the ones of the boy who dropped his sandwich in the sandbox. Art shook his head, stepping closer to you, stepping back and standing his ground closer to you. He looked up at the sky, “I love you and I care about you and I do fucking miss you.” He said. “More than anything. I’ve been losing my mind the past week.”

“I didn’t know,” you said.

“I called and came by your dorm,” he replied. “So this is the part where you tell me what the fuck I did to make you think you were someone I didn’t want around.” He was firm, but you could see the pain in his expression.

You swallowed hard, wondering what he would think. “Patrick, um…” you started but talking about it made you want to cry. You tried to get rid of the lump in your throat. “He found me and he said a few things about me being the same little girl who followed you around everywhere when I wasn’t wanted.” Your voice almost broke but you saved yourself, though you couldn’t stop your eyes from starting to tear up.

“Patrick said that?”

“He’s the one who made the lost puppy comparison. I’m not mad at him or anything, he was drunk, but he talked about me calling you all the time, how it all adds up to the same schoolgirl crush and how you can’t get rid of me and you’re the reason I’m here at Stanford and…” you trailed off because it choked you out. “It’s okay, it just made me rethink a lot of things. He said I need to be my own person.”

“You are your own person, what the fuck? Made you think that you needed to give me space? He was able to make you believe that I wanted to get rid of you? After being friends with you for seventeen years of my life?” He questioned it but you knew he wasn’t actually questioning you. It was rhetorical, you knew the answers. “I swear to god, I’ve never given so much as a notion that I don’t want you around other than I couldn’t want you around because you were either too far or just not invited. If I had it my way you’d be invited to everything, I would never not want you around.”

He grabbed you by both of your shoulders, squeezing but resting gentle. You sighed, “But I have followed you around like a lost puppy.” You said, blinking back threateningly hot tears.

“You’re not a lost puppy. Do you think I don’t feel like I’m dragging you around sometimes?”

“You’ve never dragged me anywhere,” you said. You smiled just a little and he couldn’t help but do the same. “I like being around you.”

“I like having you around. I’ve never thought of you as any sort of dog at my heels or whatever the fuck it is you or Patrick said.” He squeezed your arms again, sliding his hands up to the back of your neck, under your hair, bracing you. “You are everything to me, I don’t care where you are, if you’re behind me or in front of me, beside me, just with or around me, it’s the safest, most familiar thing I know. You can go anywhere you want but you chose to stick around me when you were only three and it was the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

He confessed. You sighed, this time, just out of the peace his words brought.

“I mean at first I didn’t know what to do with a little girl who was depending on me to teach her how to make stick forts and weird knots and how to climb hills but we’ve figured everything out together. And I don’t want that to stop. Fuck Patrick, honestly. You over him, you over anyone, anything, any day of the week, I’m sorry. I’m not that sorry”

You didn’t know what else to do or how to reply. Every word he said kicked Patrick’s take on you to the curb. Everything Patrick had thought about you was disproven, thrown, ripped to shreds. Your heart beat fast, heavily, thudding against the inside of your ribs. You breathed out hard, hoping that maybe it would expel some of the emotion that was overloading. Art’s hands had moved slowly up the back of your neck, unnoticed as he confessed everything and now they rested just at your jaw, thumbs by your ears. This moment of yours before the breath only lasted seconds but felt like eternity. You could have cried, sobbed, even, with the amount of emotion that instantly overcame your body but you didn’t cry or scream it out, there was nothing more fitting than how Art closed the gap between the two of you with a kiss.

His hands at your jaw, yours grabbed onto his sides like it was natural. Like you’d done it a million times. As he kissed you with slightly chapped lips pressed firmly to your own, you found that there was some release, some weight gone. Some ghost butterfly danced around your stomach and your head and the kiss was not long, but not short either, but it was needed and the kiss itself was telling of that. All of your emotion washed out like the tide and came back slowly, regular, calm, known.

You pulled away at the same time, mutually. “I love you too.” You said quietly. He grinned that crooked grin you knew too well and suddenly you were laughing about it. About something, about everything. He kissed you again, of course, harder, laughing through it, his hands around your waist and your arms around his neck and this second kiss turned itself into a hug. An embrace, tighter than the usual ones. He buried his face in your neck as you expressed everything you’d needed to in all of your seventeen years as best friends. He apologized for any distance, any fault in the way he prioritized you, and any time he may have taken you for granted. Being without you was harder than he could have imagined.

And nothing ever changed how either of you felt about each other again. Though… Art started following you around a bit more from that point on, but who wouldn’t want that?

A/N: Thank you for the request! I hope this is somewhat to your liking, though I followed your prompt a bit loosely with the pacing. Always feel free to request! That goes for everyone

#art donaldson #challengers #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig #art x reader #challengers fic #challengers x reader #art donaldson fic #art donaldson fluff #bestfriend!artdonaldson #best friend! art donaldson #childhood best friend! art x reader #art x childhoodbestfriend!reader #challengers x y/n #challengers fluff

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feyhunter78 · 1 year ago

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Pink Pastels

Description: Single dad Miguel who replaced himself in a new universe meets his daughter's favorite teacher, you, who just happens to have a shitty boyfriend and doesn't yet know how much the O'Hara family wants you to stick around

Pt 2

I cracked y'all, and I blame TikTok

“Ms. Y/N, watch me, watch me!” Gabi calls, waving her arms in the air to catch your attention.

“I’m watching, go ahead.” You encourage her, smiling brightly when she does a successful cartwheel, her hair spilling from the loose braid one of her classmates had done for her during quiet reading.

You know teachers aren’t supposed to have favorite students, you tell each and every one of your students that you don’t have favorites, that you adore all of them equally. But Gabriella O’Hara holds a special place in your heart.

“Did you see, did you see?” She asks excitedly, running up to you, dark curls tumbling wildly around her shoulders.

You kneel down, and brush the hair back from her face, still smiling brightly. “I did, that was amazing, who taught you that?”

“My dad, he helped me practice.” She says, giving you a toothy grin, one front tooth missing from where she’d knocked it out eating an apple yesterday.

A tear-filled lunch that had been until you reminded her that now the Tooth Fairy would come visit her. The idea of a sparkly fairy leaving her money in exchange for her tooth dried her tears quickly, and soon enough she was proudly showing off her lost tooth (safely contained in a Ziploc bag) to anyone who would listen.

“Well, it seems like your dad is a very good teacher, then.” You say, giving her shoulder a quick squeeze before her friends dragged her back onto the playground.

You stood back up and rejoined the other first grade teachers.

“She’s adorable.” Janey says, nodding at Gabi who was playing tag with a few other girls.

Janey taught in the classroom next to yours. You started teaching at the same time, but she’d been hired at Steve Rodgers Elementary a year before you. Janey was the first friend you made when you got hired, and you soon became close friends inside and outside school.

“She’s so well-behaved, too; I wish I knew who her mom was, so I could thank her.” You say, a slight grimace on your face, when you watched two boys from your class begin to shove each other.

You called out to them, and they stopped, giving you guilty looks before running towards the swing sets.

“There’s no mom, she walked out on Gabi and her father after she was born.” Melissa says, her arms crossed over her chest as she watched her kids.

Melissa was a senior teacher at Rodgers Elementary. A tough love works the best teacher with the confidence of a god, and a nose for gossip like you couldn’t believe.

“Oh, that’s so sad.” You say, your heart hurting for the sweet little girl who always wanted to sit next to you during story time. Gabi had told you about her dad many times, but never mentioned her mom, you just assumed she was away for work often, or that they didn’t have many things in common.

You looked at Gabi, watching as she helped one of her friends tie their shoes. Sitting beside them and patiently demonstrating on her own sneakers. How could anyone walk away from her?

“It is, but her dad…he’s hot, I’ve seen him in the pickup line, he’s like a male model or something.” Melissa says, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

You gave her an incredulous look. “Melissa! That’s a parent you’re talking about.”

She shrugs. “Hey, I’m married, I’m not gonna do anything, but one of you could.”

Janey turns her head to hide her laughter, and you smack her arm. “Janey, hitting on a child’s parent is wildly inappropriate, besides I have Todd.”

Melissa snorts, and you bite the inside of your cheek. Todd was not a popular man around the school, especially after what he pulled on your birthday.

The bell rings signaling the end of recess and your kids begin to line up, ending your conversation as the three of you are pulled in different directions.

There’s a knock at your door, and you look up from grading papers, to see Janey. “Hey y/n, Gabi’s father is here to see you?”

You shoot her a look of confusion and begin to tidy up your desk, then stand, smoothing out the wrinkles in your baby pink dress. “Oh, yeah, sure, let him in.”

Janey disappears, and the space is filled by a giant of a man. He towers over the desks, making them look even tinier than they already were. His shoulders are massive, his biceps you swear are bigger than your thighs, though you could be exaggerating, but you’re honestly not sure, and when he fixes those dark brown eyes on you, and suddenly the floor beneath you feels unsteady.

“Mr. O’Hara, how can I help you?” You manage to get out, motioning for him to take a seat in front of his desk.

“I’ll stand.” He says curtly. His voice is deep, settling in your bones, the faint whisper of an accent, and confidence behind his words makes you nervous for a moment, then you recognize the feeling, not nerves…something else, something much more inappropriate.

“Oh—okay, is there something you need, is Gabi okay?” You ask, realizing she isn’t in the classroom with him.

“She’s fine, just sitting outside with her book.” He explains, his eyes piercing straight through you.

“Margaret and Margarita, right? Your daughter an exceptional reader, in both English and Spanish, you should be very proud.” You say, giving him a smile, hoping the compliment will soften his expression and make it seem like he didn’t want to murder you.

Melissa was right, Mr. O’Hara was gorgeous. With a strong jawline, high cheekbones, a mess of thick dark hair, and perfectly formed lips, all tapering down to the body of an Adonis, clothed in a white button up that stretched across his broad chest, and black slacks that clung to his muscled legs like it was their job and rent was due next week. But his expression was flat, his eyes cold, his stance rigid.

“Why did you lie to my daughter?” He asks flatly, looking down at you, as if you were a bug on his windshield.

You blink up at him in confusion. “I’m sorry?”

“You should be.”

An indignant expression flashed across your face before you could stop it, and you saw Mr. O’Hara’s lip twitch. “I’m not apologizing, I’m asking for clarification.”

“You told Gabi that the Tooth Fairy was going to visit her, I wasn’t going to do the Tooth Fairy , she doesn’t need false hope.” He snaps, leaning forward slightly, towering over you.

The hair on your arms stands up, but you brush it off as a stab of guilt goes through you. He was a single dad, maybe he couldn’t afford such frivolous traditions. “Mr. O’Hara, if this is a financial issue, I am so sorry. I should’ve tried to comfort her another way, my sincerest apologizes.”

“This isn’t a financial issu—comfort her?” He stops midsentence, his brows furrowing.

“She was upset because she lost her teeth, it’s her first one, a ton of kids get a little scared, but the promise of a reward usually clears those tears right up.” You tell him, holding your hands up in a pacifying way as you talk.

His eyes dart down to your hands, then back to your eyes, lingering for a moment on your lips. “I didn’t—Gabi didn’t tell me she was scared.”

“She was probably a little embarrassed. She talks all the time about how brave you are and how she wants to be just like you when she grows up.”

His expression softens.

“I actually—”you turn to rifle through your desk until you find Gabi’s latest assignment—“have something for you.”

He takes the paper from you, and you can’t help but notice how his hands dwarf yours, his tanned skin is scattered with small scars, and his calloused fingertips brush against yours. “What is this?”

“I had the kids draw a picture of their hero and then write a few sentences about why that person is their hero. I think she was one of a few who didn’t draw Spiderman.” You laugh softly.

He cradles the paper and a soft smile spreads across his face as he reads her writing under his breath. “Porque mi papá lucha contra los monstruos en mi armario.”

“I had to look that one up, my Spanish is terrible.” You admit sheepishly, watching as he reads her words over and over again.

“Thank you, for this, and for comforting Gabi.” He says, folding the paper carefully and sliding it in his pocket.

“Of course, I love Gabi, she’s such a pleasure to have in class.”

He looks at you, really looks at you, and you’re struck by how similar he and Gabi are. They have the same nose, the same almost curls that frame their faces, and when he tilts his head ever so slightly to the side you almost burst out laughing. You can’t count how many times you’ve seen Gabi do that exact same thing.

“You know Gabi talks a lot about you, how pretty you are, she was right.” His voice is low, smooth, and sends a jolt through you. Then he takes his leave, with you standing there stunned, wondering what the hell just happened to you.

Eternal Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir

#meg's writing #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fanfiction #across the spiderverse #As almost always ao3 saw it first and the second chapter is already posted there!!!!#If you don't want to wait for it to be posted here!#not a request just a thought i had #Miguel’s pastels #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel ohara #atsv miguel #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o'hara scenarios

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pinksturniolo · 8 months ago

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Play Date - A Matt Sturniolo One Shot

Matt Sturniolo x Fem Reader

You call me on the telephone, you sound so far away

You tell me to come over, there’s some games you want to play

I’m walking to your house, nobody’s home

Just me and you and you and me alone…

Summary: The one in which Matt has been helping you babysit your 5 year old brother for the past couple years. Everyone in Somerville, MA knew him as the sweetest and caring guy, always helping someone when they needed it. However, you and him never got along, always disagreeing on most things. You and him had nothing in common. Well… maybe one thing.

Content Warnings: smut, angst, small age gap, fingering, oral receiving/giving, degradation, raw penetration, sneaking around, matt being a tough guy.

Based on this song: (pls listen it's so good and the lyrics are what inspired this one shot)

a/n: i'm sorry if the age gap makes anyone uncomfortable, everything depicted in this story is purely consensual <3

Winter 2024

You watched as Matt helped untie your little brother’s shoes and unzip his jacket, the two of them coming back in from playing outside. You had stayed inside on the couch, keeping warm while you worked on your English essay, watching them from the living room window. A storm hit soon after New Year’s leaving Boston in a blanket of fresh white snow.

He sets his shoes and jacket down, leading him to the kitchen to make him a cup of juice. Your brother adored Matt, there was no denying he was a great babysitter. A couple years ago, your mom started working out of town every other weekend, leaving you home alone to take care of your brother since your dad left when you were a little girl.

Your mom had always been a strict parent, so naturally she didn’t trust you to be by yourself the whole weekend given the fact you were only 16 at the time. So, she asked one of her friend’s sons to help, who happened to be Matt Sturniolo.

Matt was trusted by mostly everyone, and your mom had known his mom since high school, so she had no problem with him being at your house. You, however, were extremely against this idea. You and Matt had never gotten along no matter how much you tried. You had known him since elementary school and from the moment you met, he always had an attitude towards you for some reason. Being that you were so stubborn, you didn’t back down from his sourness, and challenged him every chance you got.

He was a couple years ahead of you in school and always brought up the fact that because he was older, that somehow made him better than you. You refused to acknowledge that, butting heads with him constantly. It didn’t help that some of your friends were his friends and each time you guys were around each other, it was a constant competition. Who was better at bowling, who got first place in Mario Kart, who had the best golf swing. It annoyed your friends to no end.

When you were a sophomore, Matt would come over the weekends your mom worked out of town. He stayed during the majority of the day, taking care of your little brother. This also gave you the freedom to attend many of the extracurricular activities you were involved in. You took pride in being the top of your class and captain of the dance team. Matt endlessly teased you about it, calling you a “try hard” and “nerd”.

The time you did spend at home when Matt was there, you tried to avoid arguing with him around your brother. The three of you often went to the park, or got ice cream, never running out of ways to entertain him. The more time you had spent around Matt, it was hard not to develop a little crush. You would never admit it, but you admired the sweet side of him. He was good at taking care of your brother.

And he subtly started to flirt with you, teasing you over silly things, and checking you out when you weren’t looking. There was no doubt he found you attractive. But you frustrated him to no end, given the fact that you were so stubborn and weren’t afraid to voice your opinion when you disagreed with him on something. Matt liked to be in control, but you did as well. Still, he admired how hard working you were and your sensitive nature.

It didn’t take long before raging teenage hormones created sexual tension between you two. The summer before your junior year, stolen glances and accidental touches fueled the fire that had been growing over the years. One night when you were both alone, watching a movie after your brother had fallen asleep, Matt finally made a move on you. He would usually leave at nighttime, going back home to sleep so he could come back the next day and help you. But he decided to stay and finish the movie with you.

It had been a particularly good Saturday, and you had looked especially pretty that day. He couldn’t stop staring at you and when you asked him what he was looking at, he pressed his lips to yours, igniting a flame in you that you just couldn’t put out.

From that night on, you two snuck around every chance you got, whenever your brother wasn’t around or asleep, almost every weekend up until Matt graduated.

Making out on the couch until his hands found his way into your shorts and under your shirt, eliciting sweet moans from you while he thrust his fingers deep inside you. Pushing him up against the wall in the hallway as you got on your knees and took him into your mouth, his hands tangled in your hair, pulling and grunting until he came down your throat. A couple times, he even spent the night in your bed, using his mouth, hands and cock to make you cum over and over, in every different position.

As much as you both enjoyed the pleasure and excitement, there still was no denying the fact that you two despised each other. Maybe that hate was what fueled the passion between you two in the bedroom, but outside of that, you both never ceased the petty arguing. No matter the deep feelings you had for each other buried inside, it would never go past the sexual relationship you guys had built. Simple as that.

Once Matt graduated and started working in the adult world, he still took the time to keep his baby-sitting duties which you were grateful for, because at this point, you had started throwing yourself more into your schoolwork. You were applying for all the universities you could and taking extra shifts at Star Market you were working at part time. And then it came time for you to graduate, and you went off to college that fall, a few hours from Somerville. You had lost contact with Matt, neither of you taking the time or effort to reach out to each other.

✿

Now it was early January, and you were on winter break. You had come back home to visit and spent some time with your mom before she left on her work trip. Matt came over to help with your brother of course and this was the first time you had seen him since you graduated high school almost a year ago. He was now 20 years old, had let his beard grow out a little, and gotten several tattoos on his left arm.

Was it possible for him to get even more attractive than he already was back then? But you promised yourself you wouldn’t give into your past desires. You had too much to focus on and even though you were on break, you had an important English essay to finish. Besides, Matt had the worst attitude ever as soon as he saw you, making it easier for you to avoid him.

He was currently burning a hole into you with his pointed looks, glaring at you from across the room as your brother sat next to him, playing with his action figures.

You looked up at him from your computer, returning his dirty look. “Can I help you with something, Matthew?” You asked, knowing he hated it whenever you used his full name.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on break? Don’t you do anything for fun?” He said, referring to the fact that you had been typing away on your computer for the last hour.

You rolled your eyes, focusing your attention back on the computer. “Aren’t you supposed to mind your own business?” You responded.

He scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t really care what you do. I’m just tired of listening to your incessant typing.” He said with annoyance.

You ignored him, continuing to work on your essay while he continued to stare at you. You tried to focus but his piercing gaze distracted you. He sighed loudly and finally you slammed your computer shut, anger bubbling inside you.

“Fine. It’s not like I can focus with you acting like that anyway.” You snap, standing up to walk to the kitchen and get a glass of water.

To your annoyance, he follows you, leaning against the counter as you fill the glass and take a few sips. “Did you miss me, angel?” He says and you almost choke on the water, laughing as you set the glass down. “Don’t be ridiculous.” You reply, turning to face him. His eyes travel up and down your body, no shame in the way he checks you out.

“You still look hot. Brings back memories of when I had you all to myself-“He starts, a mischievous grin appearing on his face. You interrupt him though, grabbing his jaw a little roughly, smushing his lip together to prevent him from continuing whatever dirty thoughts he was going to say.

“Let’s get one thing clear, Matt. I came home to spend time with my brother, not to be bothered by you. Whatever you think we had in the past, you can forget about it. That will never be happening again.” You say sternly and let go of his face. He rubs his jaw and a dark look forms in his eyes as he leans down to whisper in your ear. “If you ever fucking grab me like that again, I’ll make sure you remember who’s really in control here. Don’t make me mad, Y/N.”

He then stalks off to the living room, leaving you there in shock, chills running through your body, a slight throb starting to ache in your core from just his words alone. Fuck. This was going to be harder than you thought.

After Matt left that night, you couldn’t help but let his words replay, memories from when he used to have his way with you cycling through your head. You just couldn’t deny your attraction to him no matter how much he infuriated you. You felt yourself growing wetter by the second as you thought about his voice, his large hands, what it would feel like to have his face between your legs again, his beard scratching against the inside of your thighs. Your fingers slipped inside your underwear, feeling the slickness there, circling your clit as you moaned out his name.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You grabbed your phone, calling Matt. He picked up on the first ring as if he somehow knew you needed him. “Hello?” He answered, his deep voice rumbling through the other end. “Matt…” You breathed out. “I need you.”

His cock immediately hardened at hearing your needy voice, knowing you well enough to know exactly how you needed him. “Be there in 5.” He replied, hanging up the phone and grabbing his jacket. Luckily, your house was 2 blocks from his and he walked in the cold, heart racing as he reached your bedroom window, lightly tapping.

You let him in, your mouths instantly connecting, tongues tangling and teeth clashing. You kissed each other hungrily, wasting no time removing your clothes and his as you laid on your bed. He put his hands all over your body, kissing every inch he could as you whimpered his name. “Please Matt, I can’t wait any longer.” You said, the need to feel him inside you overwhelming.

He hummed in fake empathy, pulling you roughly by your hips, wrapping your legs around his lower back and lining his cock up with your entrance. “Listen to how pathetic you sound. So needy for my cock already, angel?” He said, slicking it up and down slowly through your wetness, teasing you.

“Yes, please, please…” You responded, not bothering to fight his dominance. You were too turned on to care. He smirked at this, giving in and pushing himself inside you, no resistance from how wet you were. “Fuuuckk…” He groaned, head falling down, arms resting on either side of your head as he thrust into you at a good pace, uttering filthy words in your ear. “You feel so fucking good. Better than I remember baby.”

You moan loudly as he picks up his pace, his hips slamming into you over and over, your tits bouncing in his face as he leans down to suck on them and squeeze them in his hands. “Don’t stop Matt.” You breathe out, and he has no intentions of doing so, eager to get you to your climax. “I’m gonna cum soon.” You say and he looks up at you, shaking his head. “Not until I say so.” He warns, coming back up from your chest and wrapping a strong hand around your throat, squeezing slightly.

He grinds against you for a few minutes before you can barely take it, ready to beg him for what you need. “Pleaseee Matt. It feels so good.” You cry, making him almost bust inside of you.

He starts rubbing fast circles on your clit, pounding into you at a relentless pace. You bite your lip to keep from screaming, your eyes rolled into the back of your head in a state of bliss. “You gonna be a good girl and cum on my cock?” He asks, his other hand gripping your thigh, leaving bruises.

“Yes! Oh my god, yes.” You yell. “Go ahead baby, cum for me.” He says, granting you the permission to release your juices all over him and he moans loudly feeling you clench around him. He’s not finished with you yet though as he pulls out of you and suddenly flips you around before you have time to catch your breath.

He pulls your hips up, so your ass is in the air and spreads your legs with his knee, putting his hands on your lower back. “I’m not done yet, angel.” He says pushing himself into you again. You cry out from how sensitive you are, burying your face in your pillow. “Fuck, Matt.” You whimper and he thrusts into you at a fast pace again, the sounds of skin clapping together and wet sounds filling the room.

You feel pleasure building in you again and Matt takes a fistful of your hair, pulling it, making you moan with pleasure. You feel tears form in your eyes, another orgasm approaching from the way Matt is pounding into you, hitting your g spot repeatedly. “Matt...” You whimper, unable to say much else from overstimulation. “You can take it, baby. Ahhh, You’re such a good girl- fuck. I know you can cum for me again.” He says in between shaky breaths, feeling himself get close as well.

You cum again, crying out his name, your head slumping into your pillow as he lets go of your hair, squeezing your ass harshly as his hips stutter and he releases into you. You feel his warm load paint your walls and then he finally pulls out, both of you out of breath and he collapses down next to you.

“You okay?” He asks, a hand coming up to brush your hair from your face, seeing how fucked out you are. “More than.” You reply, with a small smile on your lips. He smiles back and wraps an arm around you as you lay on his chest, both of you quickly drifting to sleep.

✿

The next morning when you wake, Matt is gone. You feel a slight emptiness in your chest but ignore it as you get up and get ready for the day. The weekend is over, and your mom will be home soon. You have lots of plans for the upcoming week and don’t have time to think about all the feelings he has seemed to stir up from the past.

However, you get a call from her shortly, guilt in her voice when she tells you about an unexpected extension in her work trip came up and she’ll have to stay another week. You’re disappointed but you understand it’s important to her and now that you’re an adult, she’s okay with you staying home with your brother alone.

So, it’s a surprise to you when Matt shows up a couple days later, not even bothering to knock on the front door as he saunters in. You and your brother were sat on the couch, watching TV after lunch. “What’s up.” He says nonchalantly, sitting next to you. Your brother immediately jumps up in excitement, going over to him. “Matty!!” He says, a cute smile on his face. “Hey, buddy.” He says back, ruffling a hand playfully through his hair.

You ignore how insanely cute the interaction is, scoffing in annoyance. “Have you ever heard of knocking?” You say in aggravation, Matt losing the smile as he looks at you. “You should probably lock that door more often. It’s not safe. Which is why I came over to make sure things are good over here. I overheard my mom talking to your mom about how she’s still stuck in Aspen on her work trip.” He responds. You simply roll your eyes and sigh, not bothering to argue with him.

“Whatever. Come on, baby. It’s time for your nap.” You tell your brother, and he gives Matt a hug before you take him to his room, reading him his favorite book as he falls to sleep.

You close his door with a soft click, walking over to the kitchen table so you can sit and work on your essay some more. Matt’s already there, reading what you’ve typed on the screen.

“Excuse me! What are you doing.” You scold, ripping the computer out of his hands.

He laughs, leaning back in his chair next to you. “Not too bad, Y/N. I knew you were a nerd, but I didn’t know you were that smart.” He teases.

“You’re insufferable.” You reply, ignoring him as you continue typing.

“Hmm, I beg to differ. That’s not what you were saying when I had your legs shaking-“ Before he can finish, you pinch his thigh through his jeans, making him yelp.

“Don’t be a jerk, Matty. We both know that night was a mistake.” You say, and he furrows his brows in pain, his eyes closing and breathes through his nose.

Then he grabs your hand from his thigh, placing it back on your leg and rests his arm on the back of your chair while he leans in closer to you.

“What did I tell you before, hm? Do you need to me to put you in your place again?” He says, the blazing look in his eyes making you squirm in your seat.

You look back to your computer, attempting to focus as he traces circles on your bare thigh with his fingers. “Matt. Stop.” You say, trying to sound stern despite the butterflies that form in your stomach.

“Why?” He replies, moving his hand farther up your skirt.

You grit your teeth, swallowing hard. “Because… I’m trying to study.” You say weakly now. Why the fuck couldn’t you control yourself around him?

“You sure about that?” He whispers now, voice filled with desire. His hand is completely disappeared underneath your skirt now, his fingertips soft as he presses them to your clit, a wet spot forming in your panties.

You sigh in desperation, Matt satisfied with the fact that he has you wrapped around his finger.

His lips ghost across your neck and he places a soft kiss beneath your ear, making you moan aloud.

“Just say the words and I’m yours, angel…” He rasps, his dick throbbing in his pants.

You suddenly snap out of it, pushing his hand away and abruptly stand up from your chair. He was not going to continue to just have his way with you. “If you’re not going to allow me to study in peace, then you can leave.” You say harshly, leaving the kitchen.

You storm down the hallway to your room, Matt following closely behind. “Stop following me!” You whisper yell, trying to be quiet as your brother is asleep in his room. You reach your door, attempting to slam it in his face when he puts his arm out, stopping the door before you can. He has an annoying smirk on his face when you turn to glare at him. “What’s got your panties in a twist?” He says, making you roll your eyes.

“You’re a disgusting pervert.” You sneer at him, referring to moments earlier when had a hand up your skirt.

“Don’t act like you don’t like it.” He responded, the smug smirk on his face growing wider. “Don’t act like that’s the first time I’ve touched you… Like I didn’t just have you begging me to let you cum the other night.” He added, leaning closer to you, a dangerous look in his eyes.

You scoffed, pushing him away from you by his chest. “I don’t recall anything like that ever happening.” You say with disgust in your voice. You both knew you were lying, of course. But you had done your best to try and forget your momentary weakness that night.

“Why don’t I jog your memory then?” He speaks lowly, moving closer again, forcing you to walk backwards further into your room, closing the door behind him and locking it. Your heart races and thighs clench together, that stupid smirk still on his face as he wraps one hand around your throat, the other harshly gripping your waist and smashes his lips to yours.

You melt into his kiss, his grip on your throat making your pussy throb. “Stop being such a brat.” He says, backing you up against the wall of your bedroom. He removes his hand from your throat and trails it down to the hem of your shirt pulling it off you and then ripping your skirt down your legs once again leaving you in just your bra and panties. “But I love the reaction it gets out of you.” You say breathlessly, knowing he was only going to punish you the more you talked.

He attacks your neck with wet kisses, sucking and biting all the sweet spots he knew you loved, lustful moans leaving your mouth. He suddenly drops to his knees, ripping your favorite lace thong off you.

“Matt!” You speak. “What the hell?” You were definitely making him buy you a brand-new pair later.

“Shut up.” He simply replies taking one leg and wrapping it around his shoulder, burying his face in your cunt. “Oh fuck.” You groan, tossing your head back against the wall as pushes his tongue inside you. His hands keep a firm grip on your waist as he continues to fuck you with his warm, strong tongue, only pulling out to kiss and suck on your clit, driving you to the edge.

It doesn’t take long for you to cum, the sight of Matt willingly on his knees for you, his blue eyes staring up at you.

Once you finish, Matt stands up, ready to throw you on the bed and continue to have his way with you but you decide it’s time for you to take some control.

You push him onto the bed before he can say anything, and climb on as well, the look on his face priceless.

“Take off your jeans and your shirt. Now.” You demand, sitting on your knees in front of him, while he leans back against your pillows. He does so without any protest surprisingly, and once he’s left in just his boxers, you lean down, your ass arched in the air, and pull them off. His dick springs out, slapping his stomach and you grab it, taking him into your mouth. He groans loudly, putting a hand in your hair but you push it away, removing your mouth from him with a pop. “No touching.” You say, looking up at him seriously.

He smirks at you, raising both his hands in the air. “Yes mam.”

Satisfied with this, you lower your head down again, fitting as much of him in your mouth as you can, jerking the rest, and bobbing your head. The sounds he makes get you even wetter, and you moan around him, letting him brush the back of your throat. “Fuck, baby, you’re doing so good.” He coos, gripping your sheets as you prohibited him from touching you.

He slowly bucks up into your mouth as you take him deeper and deeper into your throat, one of your hands now resting on his thigh and the other grabbing his balls. You know he won’t last long like this and before you can make him cum, he grabs your shoulders, pulling you up to sit on him.

“Come here, angel. I want you to ride me.” He says and you straddle him, sinking down on his cock. You both moan out at the feeling, and you start to bounce on it, putting your hands in his hair and tugging.

He guides your hips, helping you ride him, the air in the room now hot and thick.

“Look at you, so fucking needy. You just can’t get enough, can you baby?” he says, groaning as he watches himself slip in and out of you.

The feeling of him deep in your guts has you back in your submissive state, just nodding at his words, moaning his name. “Yes Matt.”

“Mm, shit, you look so beautiful, dumb for my cock like this.” He continues, knowing exactly what to say to bring you to that edge again. His fingertips dig into your hips, the pain mixing with the pleasure.

You lean your head against his shoulder, starting to get tired but still chasing that high.

You puff hot breaths against his neck, lazily leaving sloppy kisses.

“Want Daddy to help you, honey? Want me to make you cum on my dick again?” He rasps and all you can manage is a whine and nod against him. “Please.”

That’s all he needs to hear before he starts bucking his hips up, slapping against you roughly and you scream out, the grip in his hair becoming tighter. He’s so deep inside you at this angle, the pressure is almost overwhelming, and you can do nothing but take it, whimpering his name over and over again.

You reach your orgasm, cumming all over him and he finishes soon after you, biting into your shoulder as he does. He holds you for a little, both of you catching your breath, before you climb off of him.

You lay next to him while he rubs a hand up and down your legs, tracing small circles on your hip.

“You know, if this is how the rest of the week goes while you’re here, I won’t complain.” You joke and this makes him laugh, pulling you closer to him.

“Don’t worry angel… I’ll help you finish that essay too.” He says, pressing a kiss to your forehead before you both fall asleep.

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