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imrllytootiredforthis · 4 months ago

Note

thinking about how there isn't enough on virgin!minho

like things get a little handsy and then you learn how sensitive he is... idk i just love subby whiny min but i haven't seen any inexperienced/virgin minho around :/

Made of Glass

pairing: lee minho x reader

warnings: dom afab reader (no pronouns are mentioned, reader does have a hole but i don't think anything else - besides minho referring to the reader as a goddess once), sub virgin minho, lots of build-up, little bit of a handjob, grinding on his bare dick, penetrative sex ( r receiving, haven't written it in a long time so don't get mad if it's shit😻), fluffy build up (they're in love your honour), he says he hates you a lot (but he doesn't mean it cause we love subby tsundere boys)

word count: erm...about 4.6k

-- MINORS BEGONE --

Minho wasn't ashamed of the fact that he was a virgin.

Untouched and "pure", undirtied by the hands of another some might even say. Specifically you, teasing him with light kisses and gentle touches.

And sure, he'd gotten to 2nd base in a high school relationship and older drunken mishaps but never anything more. Never as so far as to...feel certain things from another person.

Or from himself for that matter.

But no, wasn't ashamed that he was a virgin but he was maybe, perhaps, just a little bit embarrassed.

And he had absolutely zero idea how to breach the topic with you much less approach it.

You, who knew he was a virgin. Always so patient and careful with him.

Obviously, it should be expected that in the heat of the moment you stop when he freezes up or slows when he tenses up. But none of his previous partners had ever treated him so nicely, without getting angry or miffed off after at the very least.

They hadn't kissed his cheeks gently with a smile and conceded into a cuddle after it happened several times. They hadn't wrapped him up in their arms and turned on a movie, or delicately asked to talk about it after the fact.

You did though.

With no questions and no pressuring and no guilt-tripping. No anger.

He loved it. He loved you...as long as that had taken for him to come to terms with, with you and with himself.

He loved you.

And he was ready.

To...to, yeah.

And what better way than to just come out and say it? But that's embarrassing.

"I think I wanna...you know."

"Darling, sorry, can you speak up?" You looked up at him, yawning and setting your phone down on the coffee table.

He flushed and turned away, "um..." and he could feel every ounce of confidence in his body drain out of him like that.

Under your eyes, like this, you so attentive to listen to him. So nice, giving him your whole attention like he was the only thing that mattered.

You patted the couch next to you and he had no choice to sit down, falling into your arms like he was the missing piece to your puzzle.

He was quick to nuzzle his face into your throat, hiding against you. You just made him so nervous. Why did you make him so nervous still? After dating for this long, you shouldn't make him feel this way still.

Fluttery and gooey and nervous.

He'd say he hated it. The way you made his heart flutter...as sappy and love-drunk as that sounded.

He'd say he hated it when your hand cupped his cheek, turning him back to you. But he didn't hate it. Not one bit.

"I love you."

A grin split across your face, lighting up in that way you always did when he said those three words. No matter how many times he's said it, it would still drive you crazy like it was the first.

You giggled and kissed the tip of his nose gently. "Say it again for me darling? Just one more time, please?"

Now you were teasing him. But you couldn't help it. You loved teasing him so much. Loved fluttering kisses over his face and hearing him say those words again and again and again.

You didn't think you could ever get sick of it.

"Fuck you," He groaned but his tone with filled with anything but malice, making you laugh; letting him bury his head into your neck. "Fuck you for being so..."

"So what?" You challenged. "Hmm?"

His voice was muffled against your skin, barely legible, "So...insufferable." But he must like suffering then. "And intolerable." And he must have built up some tolerability, maybe because he was around you so much, indulging in you far too often.

You pulled his body against yours, leaning back to slot his body onto yours.

He was too eager to follow your lead.

To let himself be maneuvered so his hips were pressed against yours and your chest was aligned with his, so softly you moved him, so carefully you treated him.

He could feel your heart beating in time with his, fluttering and quick. He loved the feeling like he loved everything about you.

Fuck you for making him feel like this.

For the butterflies in his stomach. And the flush on his cheeks. And the hard-on between you and him, wishing desperately you wouldn't notice.

But of course you would.

You pulled his face from your neck, hands holding either side of his face, keeping him in place - like he'd want to be anywhere else.

"So I'm insufferable and you're...what?" Your lips pouted and he felt the overwhelming need to kiss them. To kiss you. Hard and fast and the way he needed.

He pretended to think but was only sidetracked by the feeling of your thumbs brushing over his cheekbones, tracing his lips and following down to his jawline.

"Mmm, I'm...handsome. And, uh," he let out an embarrassing breathy sigh when you lean in, kissing the corner of his mouth so softly he wouldn't be sure it was there if he hadn't watched you.

"And...?" You prompted, smiling coyly. You knew the effect you had on him.

You peppered kisses over his face, following where you'd touched him with your fingers seconds before. You nipped at his cheek and pulled away before he could properly reply.

"...pretty?" Though the words came out more as a question than anything else. "I mean-"

A giggle escaped your lips, "Hell yeah you are," you brush your nose against his, looking at him in a way so scarily intimate he has to look away first.

"Pretty..." you mutter, sighing. "Y'know, I think I can accept being insufferable and intolerable if you can accept being pretty," you whisper, guiding him back to you with a delicate kiss, finally to his lips. "And handsome," you murmur, smiling against him as he deepens the kiss, hands grasping at the fabric of your shirt.

You pull away with a small teasing smirk, "And beautiful, and gorgeous, and stunnin-mmph!"

His hands fist the fabric, pulling you in before you can continue with your stupid rant. Before you can focus on the way his heart pounds when you add on another praise.

You hum and recede into the motion, allowing him to push his tongue into your mouth, sloppyily, in the way oddly reminiscent of the way horny teenagers kiss.

In a matter of seconds he's turned the kiss from sweet to something not-so-sweet.

Exactly what he wanted, and maybe he wouldn't even need to suffer through the awkwardness of asking.

Everything he put in was returned by you in the tenfold, one hand moving from his cheek to the nape of his neck, the effects making you laugh against his lips. His form shivering into yours, full-bodied and obvious.

"Sensitive?" You pulled away, with a breath, mouth curling up. "It's okay, it's cute-mmph!"

He crashed his lips against yours again, effectively cutting off your words and your thoughts. Even if you continued to play with the nape of his neck, fingers teasing over the spot. The feeling only made him more and more desperate.

But if he was needy, you were nothing but eager to reply, deepening the kiss like you were trying to consume him whole.

"Darling," you mutter, too soft. "Minnie," you groan, holding him to you gently.

But you were too soft, too gentle.

He wanted more, he wanted you.

Unrestrained, doing what you wanted for once, using him like you wanted. Because he wanted it.

Wanted to not be treated like he was a piece of glass, in danger of breaking every moment. He loved how carefully you treated him but now he wanted to be treated rough, he needed to be treated rough.

But he didn't want to say it.

Slowly, he pressed his hips against yours, shuddering at the fizzle of friction sending sparks through his nerves.

"Minho," you sighed, nails scratching against his scalp making him whine. "Darling," with a particularly harsh nip to his lips, almost hard enough to break the skin - that was what he wanted.

A whimper built up in his throat only to be swallowed down. He wasn't that desperate yet. Even if every one of his movements seemed to argue otherwise, finding a clumsy rhythm in grinding against you, replicating and intensifying those sparks.

Building them up to what he hoped was more.

Even if the motions were clumsy and new. Curious but wanting all the same, the way he moved was raw, exploring and ruining. It made his head spin and everything else go foggy.

You dragged your mouth away from his, tugging his head up by his hair to lick your way down his neck.

A lick and an open-mouthed kiss, making him shudder and shake, heat emanating from the areas you touched and the places you pressed together.

Separated by stupid clothes but not enough to stop him.

He must look pathetic the way he thrusts against you, each discordant grind getting more desperate, more sloppy with the skim of your mouth. With the drag of your tongue down his jaw and pulse-point, heart thrumming beneath your lips. With every shockwave of euphoria that tingles down his spine, with every moan and whisper of his name that leaves your lips.

"Minho," "Minnie," "Baby," "Darling,"

His head is too fuzzy to worry about anything else. To think about the needy noises that leave him, he's sure he sounds lewd, and dirty.

From just dry-humping against you.

But it's not enough. He wants you rough and hard and on top of him. Showing him what to do, telling him what to do. To make him feel good, to make you feel good.

He falters imperceptibly. Should he...?

No, he doesn't want to. He can't. Because how is he supposed to ask you to-

He's caught up in his head but his body works on autopilot, reacting to the sensations that are bringing him closer and closer to cumming in his boxers.

Caught up in his thoughts but not so much so that he forgets about you,

and he certainly doesn't miss anything you say, like the words "Such a fucking good boy," nearly growled into his throat, voice husky and ragged as your teeth scrape down his skin.

Good boy?

He freezes. Heat pools deep inside of him, warm and making him painfully, painfully hard. The words push him nearly to the edge, and he can feel himself on the precipice of-

And then he's being shoved back, hard.

Harder than you meant to, but necessary for what you were about to do.

You pant, as does he, both of you flushed and trying to catch the breath stolen from your lungs.

No, no, not when he was finally getting somewhere, not when finally, finally he was getting what he wanted. Not when you were actually unrestrained and-

"I'm sorry."

His gaze snapped to yours.

"What?"

Your lips were red and parted, he was sure his weren't in much better shape. All he wanted to do was kiss them again, and again, and again.

He wants to hear you call him a good boy again.

"I-I'm sorry," you ran your hand through your hair. "I should've...I shouldn't have done that, I'm so sorry Minho." This time you were the one looking away.

"The fuck do you mean?" He snaps. It came out a little harsher than intended, he admits. But really, he was sitting here, horny and pent-up and just wanting to get fucked, and here you were, pushing him away and apologizing?

You blink, slowly, surprised.

And here he is, fuming.

Why won't you just fuck him?

"I'm sorry-" would you just stop saying that? His glare shuts you up. "Um," You only looked confused now, a furrow between your brow.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips. You watch it.

He wishes you'd just make the first move.

Because now he was going to have to say it. Out loud. To you. Not just mumble some nonsense and hope that you'd pick it up.

"I want you." He said simply, inching closer to you.

You nodded but made no move to continue anything. "Okay..." then a sigh. "I'm going to need you to elaborate just a little, Minho."

The flush across his cheeks spreads, down his neck and over his collarbone. Why did you have to look at him like that? Like he was made of glass or something? Like you cared about him so much it made him melt.

Fuck, he loved you.

"Look at me baby." You gently cup his face, turning him to meet your eyes. "You can tell me."

You definitely knew.

He could see it in your eyes, the worry giving way to a teasing look. Now you just wanted to humiliate him huh?

He hated you.

"Shut up."

You smiled, pulling him into your chest again, laying between your legs. Just like you were before. "Well that's not what good boys say, now is it?"

He pulled his face away, burying it into your shoulder to hide from your eyes. "I don't like you." His voice came out muffled into your shirt.

You only scoff out a laugh. "We both know that's not true darling. You love me." Voice dropping to a whisper, you lean into his ear. "Do I make you nervous baby?"

Someone just kill him now.

Put an end to his misery.

"N-no;" his voice still muffled in the fabric of his your shirt. "you're just-"

"Just what?" You challenge, fingers teasing into his hair, the way you know he likes it. "You're a big boy, you can use your words, can't you?"

He shudders and swears he can hear your smirk. "I...- fuck you."

You tug on his hair, making him face you. You swear he has a eye-contact problem. Or maybe he just gets too nervous looking you in the eye.

Either way, he's too adorable not to coo at.

"I was imagining this the either way around, but whatever rocks your boat~" you purr. "All you have to do is tell me what you want."

His hips jolt against yours, heat filling his body. As soon as he does though, your free hand stills his hips, fingertips teasing under the hem of his shirt while you look at him expectantly.

He wants to hide again, but you hold him in place. Pinning him against you, not letting him look away, not letting him move.

He wants you so bad.

"Touch me..." He mutters, and your hand slides just a bit higher on his abdomen, your thighs squeezing just a bit tighter around his hips.

It's over for him. He knows as soon as your lips turn up just a bit more into a coy smile. "Where?"

When he doesn't reply soon enough you skim your hand up and over his ribcage. Breathing growing heavy as your other leaves his hair, trailing down his neck and over his shoulder, slipping just beneath the collar of his shirt.

"Here?"

Such a simple touch makes him feel hot.

"Or here?"

Slowly, your hand under his shirt makes its path towards his chest.

He gasps lightly when your fingers tweak over his nipple, delighting in the way he quivers, rutting against you. You click your tongue at him. "You know, I really can't do anything to you until you tell me what you really want." Lips ghost over his ear, nipping lightly at the shell. "Too bad, really. I could take such good care of a cute little virgin like you~"

His voice cracks under the weight of your touch; trying to clear his throat while biting back a moan. "I'm not cute-"

You cut him off with a kiss, tentatively, like you hadn't stolen his breath with a kiss only minutes ago. Like you're afraid to break him.

But he wants you to break him.

The kiss is too short for his taste but it effectively cuts off his thought process, making him nearly dumb against you. Not dumb enough to not catch the smile against his skin, "I'm not cute." But he sounds so cute. It only makes the smile widen, turning your attention to trail kisses down his neck, murmuring between each press of your lips.

"Yes you are." Kiss.

And for some reason, he can't argue.

"Remember?" Kiss.

"I'm...what was it?" Smile, kiss, lick.

"Intolerable?" A pause, but only for a second, taking the moment to drag your tongue across his throat.

"And you're cute," Stopping to suck on the spot where his pulse thrums, feeling his heart beat under your lips.

"And pretty..." Kissing, once again, over the pretty mark you've left on his pale skin.

"And beautiful...and stunning...and..." you pull away, looking to see his eyes hooded and pupils blown. "...not getting anything more until you can tell me what exactly you want here."

You pinch his nipple one more time before pulling away, leaving him cold, whining, grinding desperately between your legs.

He's hard enough, you wonder if he would've cum in his pants if you hadn't stopped.

"I..." he starts and you wait patiently for him to continue. If you've learned anything about Minho, it's that he's nothing if not embarrassed to voice his wants. Especially the ones like this.

You remember how he blushed and couldn't stop wringing his hands when you worked him up to ask to kiss you for the first time.

The way he couldn't look you in the eye, focusing anywhere else.

But he knows by now, you're nothing if not a tease, willing to play the long game to get him to tell you what he wants.

Fuck you.

Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.

He's so hard though, it hurts. And his skin nearly burns with the need to be touched, to feel you on him again. And all he wants to do is let you have your way with him.

Something that won't happen until he tells you.

"Please," he whines. Though he knows it's not enough. He just wants you. "Please?" On him, touching him, teasing him, kissing him, consuming him. "I need it." pressing a sloppy kiss to your collarbones. "Just fuck me, I want you so, so bad." He pants, hands tugging at the hem of your shirt. "Wanted you so bad, for forever now."

God, you can't wait to fuck him.

A grin blooms across your face, one that he can barely process. "Thought you'd never ask baby."

Not before you're pushing him onto his back, onto the soft cushions of the couch, switching your positions before crawling on top of him.

"M' gonna make you see stars baby." You purr, and he can do nothing else but nod dumbly, looking up at you with wide eyes like you're something of a goddess on top of him.

And you will make him see stars. Not yet anyway.

His vision goes hazy though as your hands quickly move to pull his shirt over his head, leaning down to kiss him again.

Deep and hard, filled with promises and care.

You lace your fingers with his against the couch cushions as you kiss down his jaw and down his neck and his chest and-

He gasps when you lick over his nipple, wrapping your lips around one to suck on it lightly.

Your tongue swirls around it, free hand tweaking at the other, making sure not to ignore it.

His cock is so hard, he can feel it throbbing in his sweats. He's sure he's already leaked through his underwear.

He swears he could cum from this alone.

"Don't!" He gasps and you pull away quickly, concern etched across your brow before you see his face clouded with pleasure, mouth hung open to let out breathy moans. "Please don't." He squeezes your hand in his. "I'll cum if you keep doing that."

You melt, filled with the overwhelming need to make him cum by just playing with his nipples. How cute he'd look from having his tits played with.

"So sensitive, aren't you?" You coo.

Maybe another day though. Right now, you'll give him what he wants. What he's wanted for 'forever'.

"Shut up," he scowls though it's quickly wiped away when you pinch his nipple one more time, making him gasp.

Finally, you glance down at his sweats, tenting with his boner. "Well someone's excited for me." Seeing you stare at his crotch makes him excited. His already hard cock twitching in his pants. "You're so sensitive for me, aren't you, Min?"

He hates you so much, covering his face with the back of his arm. The fact that you're only telling the truth makes him want to hide his face into your chest again.

But you're too far away, and too focused on watching his boner through his pants, fascinated by how hard you've made him with so little.

"Please," he whispers, but the way you watch him, eyes full of hunger makes him throb even more.

Somehow, he gets a kick out of you just watching him, softly moaning at his eagerness, as he lets out a hushed whisper, "Please. Please y/n, don't tease me like this. I'm already horny." His legs spread open shamelessly.

"Awe, why? Can you not handle it?" You look up at him, at his blushing face and his needy eyes. You wanna kiss him so bad.

And so you do, getting close to his lips, your warm breath tickling him. Your hand runs over his clothed cock, teasing your nails gently over the head of his dick. His eyes widen as you begin to touch him over the fabric.

But your lips quickly silence him as you kiss him again. He moans into it, the feeling of your hand on his cock, stroking him lightly and your lips on his.

Your tongue pushes through his lips as you stroke him a few more times, squeezing him lightly in a way that has his back arching off the bed, pushing into your hand even more.

Panting, you pull back a little. "Such a good boy for me, Minnie." Before you're pinning his hips to the couch and looking at him one more time for conformation.

Then you pull his sweats and boxers down in one swift movement.

And then he does see stars as you slide yourself over his hips, grinding against his bare cock.

He thinks he tells you he loves you, that he worships you, that he adores you more than anyone on this planet. He thinks his hand squeezes yours so hard that you bring it to your lips, kissing his hand and telling him to relax. He thinks you grind against him slow and gingerly, watching to see his reactions.

Like he'd ever tell you to stop.

He'd rather die.

Shoot him in the head if he ever tell you to stop, because it sure as hell isn't him.

Again, he thinks. But he isn't sure. He isn't sure of anything really right now.

His head is a mess of sensations and feelings, whines pouring from his mouth until you kiss him again and again and again.

Whispering that he's a good boy.

He's going to cum, he's going to cum.

Stars explode behind his eyes as they roll back and he isn't even inside of you yet.

And then you stop.

And he thinks tears might be rolling down his cheeks. He needs you, he needs you so fucking bad.

"Please, please, please." He pants, trying to roll his hips up against you, failing to find any contact as you sit back on your haunches, just out of his reach. "Need you," he gasps. "Need you so bad!"

You push sweaty hair out of his face, kissing the back of his hand one more time before you pull away entirely. He whimpers and you coo. "Be patient baby, just need to do something."

He watches blearily as you pull off your shorts and tries to calm his racing heart and heavy breaths as you roll a condom over his length.

"One more minute baby," you hush as you kiss him. "Are you ready?"

He nods desperately, of course he is. He's waiting for this for so long. He's wanted you for so long. He's going to go insane if you don't-

He gasps.

You groan as you slide down his length, slowly burying him inside of you until he bottoms out.

If he though grinding was intense, this was like nothing he could've ever imagined. His mouth gapes open, an endless stream of whiney moans and needy whimpers flooding into the room, feeding into you as you lift up and sink onto his again, groans of your own mixing with his.

He can't think anymore - he doesn't want to. He only wants to fall into the feeling of your walls squeezing around his dick, warm and wet as you ride him and the feeling of your hand once again finding his.

Whispering into his ear that you love him so much as you turn his head into mush

"I…I can-" Minho tries his best to talk, to tell you how good he feels. He really does, but whenever the thought comes to mind, it just gets cut off with the liquid heat coursing through his veins.

By the intense feeling of everything that is you.

He's an idiot for not asking you to fuck him sooner.

"Yeah, baby?" You chuckle breathlessly when he fails to complete his sentence. "You feel yourself inside?" You bring your interlaced fingers to your lower abdomen, "You feel it?"

All he can do is respond with a loud sob as he nods his head to your question, hips bucking up into you, desperate to chase the high quickly approaching ever since you've touched him.

He's not going to last much longer.

"You fit so well inside me," you murmur.

He's going to cum. Of this, he's sure.

"Please!' He hiccups, but he's not sure what he's pleading for. "P-please!" For more? For less? For something - anything to stave off the inevitable, he doesn't want this to end. He doesn't want it to ever end.

You kiss his forehead, his cheeks, his jaw. You flutter kisses over his face, so softly compared to how you're fucking him into the couch so roughly.

"I love you, Minho."

"I love you so much!" He pants and squeezes your hand, his other grabbing onto the nape of your neck as he shoves your lips against his.

He's fucking beautiful, you think. Cute and pretty and beautiful, under you, falling apart.

It's the most gorgeous sight you've ever seen, and he's whining your own name against you lips, pleading between sloppy kisses for you to let him cum, to let him cum for you.

You show your approval with a collision of lips and teeth and tongue as he tips over the edge and you follow suit. He sobs as he cums, shivering violently as waves of pleasure roll over his body, his back lifting into an arch, pushing himself deep into you with a followed whine.

Each moan and whine are muffled by your tongue pushing into his mouth but his hips still grind as he pushes himself into overstimulation, whining until you have mind enough to still his hips.

For a moment, the two of you are silent, chests heaving, both catching your breath as you pull away, looking at him.

"Minho?" His eyes are shut and his cheeks are painted red. "You okay baby?"

He murmurs something you don't catch, but you don't tease as you push the hair out of his face, sweat-soaked and tired, kissing his forehead once.

You make a move to get up off of him but he only wraps his arms around you, holding you in place. "Don't leave," he whispers, looking up at you with tired eyes. "Just stay, please. For a little bit?"

His sleepy eyes make your heart skip a beat. "Who are you and where's my Minho?" You tease softly, but give in nonetheless.

"Fuck you." But his tone is with filled with anything but malice, as he nuzzles into you like a happy cat.

"I just did." You giggle.

"I love you so much." He mutters, kissing your shoulder. "I love you so fucking much."

"And I love you too."

a/n: I did it ^-^, who's proud of me!! also haven't written reader being penetrated in a looooong time, so if it's shit, oh well :p

pls leave feedback, i need motivation to finish my other teaser fics😭

2K notes · View notes

prael · 2 months ago

Text

Rivalry

Kinktember Day 8: Hate Sex

(G)I-DLE Shuhua x male reader smut

words: 4,799 Kinktember Masterlist

School rivalries can get fierce, but none as fierce as this one.

It's been drilled in since the very first day, no matter what class you were in. From math tournaments to football games, these schools live and die by their standing. If one of them wins, the entire school wins. If they lose, then the school loses with them.

The fun in this rivalry has long since been drained from the system, replaced with spiteful desperation and a toxic desire. The sort of thing that has spilt well beyond the competition hall or the sports field, so much so that local authorities have had to step in for the safety and peace of mind of the students who might've gotten hurt in the chaos.

Needless to say, no individual is really to blame—or maybe all of them are.

You're coming off the back of a crushing victory at the start of this year's Summer Cup, bringing home an early advantage that, to you at least, has meant you could finally take a breath of fresh air, relax, and support your school the rest of the way. You had been chosen for the bits of media coverage (some of this actually makes national TV) such as the post-game interview spots, something not particularly fun, but something that gives you a chance to enjoy the win and rub it in the face of the rivals. Meaning that you were late to the ice bath and the shower and you're now walking through the corridor alone, while everyone is outside awaiting the next game.

Everyone except her.

There's a girl, wearing an outfit in the colours of your rival. Her yellow (really short) shorts, and white top, rolled up to just below her bust.

"You're in the wrong place," you call out as she walks closer, but she says nothing and gives a casual side-eye as she tries to walk on by. This pisses you off, so you move to block her. "I said you're in the wrong fucking place."

"Funny," she replies through that contemptuous smirk is there. She doesn't even try to mask it. "Since you're the one that's in my way. Get lost."

"See that?" You point to the wall, to the crest of your school. "This is our building. You aren't supposed to be here. What? Can't you read?"

The girl, having fully shifted her attention to you at this point, folds her arms beneath her chest. "Oh, grow up. It's an athletics competition. This is an athletics centre. You can take your tribalism elsewhere, bud."

The nickname and condescending tone, the absolute nonchalance that this girl seems to be able to project when speaking to you...it does something. It sends a twitch through your fists. "My tribalism? You're the one sporting your colours in our building."

The girl makes a brief, sarcastic sound. "I hate you all the same, but that doesn't mean you can deny me using the toilet in here. Move."

"Why don't you walk your pretentious arse back out the door where you came from, find the one next door and use it instead? Just seems like some foolish excuse to come in here and sabotage us, you people have a track record of this shit."

"Yeah, or," she responds, giving the most fake smile, before taking a step forward into your space. "Maybe I really need to use a toilet. Ever consider that, smart guy?"

This close, you can really take a good look at her. From her petite and lithe, athletic figure, to her soft skin, and messy ponytail. Her demeanour, too, along with her hazelnut eyes and pouting lips. It takes a moment, but soon, you recognise her. This is Shuhua. Maybe the most vocal of your rivals. Known for her antagonistic behaviour, her temper, her endless mocking and recently her frustration with always coming second.

"I know you."

"Congratu-fucking-lations, now step aside unless you want me to piss down your leg."

You grit your teeth at her crude words, "Toilet huh? Okay. Use it, but I'm escorting you there and then back out of the building. I don't trust you as far as I can throw you."

"I don't know, I'm a pretty skinny girl and you're a strong guy, maybe you could throw me pretty far..." Shuhua says as she steps past you. "You can wait by the door, fucking pervert."

You roll your eyes but don't dignify the insult with a response. Instead, you make sure to walk closely by her side and lead her to the ladies toilet. "You've got five minutes."

"Oh no. So scared," she drones before you swing the door open for her. She's about to step in when she stalls and glances up at you. "Sure you trust me? What if I... Oh, what if I leave the tap running and waste your water? How's that for sabotage?" Shuhua absolutely drenches her words in sarcasm.

You pull the door closed, forcing her to step inside without waiting for a reply. Once more, your fist twitches at the annoyance.

A couple of minutes pass before the door finally swings open and you watch as the girl saunters back out with a self-satisfied smirk. "There, that wasn't so hard, now was it? Want to come in and check the taps?"

That, funnily enough, does make you laugh, if a little humourlessly. "Don't you ever get sick of yourself? Actually, scratch that, that was stupid to ask, of course not," you mutter. "You know, I almost feel sorry for your school. Having to deal with you must be a real fucking burden. Hey, what's that they say, one bad apple and all that."

"Ugh, the fucking ego," Shuhua shakes her head as if she can't believe the nonsense. "You're even worse in person." She sighs and gestures in a bid for you to lead the way back towards the exit.

"Sounds like jealousy to me," you retort and start walking, and she follows behind. "Doesn't feel great, does it?"

You don't have to look, her exasperated scoff speaks volumes. "Wow. Is this really what your school thinks? Of course, it is, why would I ever have thought differently. You are all so fucking alike. All stuck in this same, boring headspace. And for the record, no, it isn't 'jealousy'. There is no jealousy here because I, unlike you, can pull my head out of my arse."

She's nothing if not stubborn, and while you know she's trying to get a rise out of you, you bite, "You're all the same at that fucking school, this is who they raised. Vocal, obnoxious, bitter. Too much time caring about how you look rather than results—"

A door slams behind you. You turn. The door to the locker room. Shuhua has disappeared.

You rush into the door, throwing it open. Empty, or so it seems, but she has to be in here somewhere. You walk down the left row of lockers, taking slow, quiet steps. Listening, hoping to hear the smallest bit of movement. The crunch of feet, a giggle, the slight jangle of coins.

Nothing.

You're approaching the end of the row of lockers and nothing so far. You get right up against the corner, readying to quickly round it when you think you hear a small breath from just the other side.

Three, two, one, and you launch yourself around the corner.

Shuhua is right there, waiting, she grabs you by the shoulders and pins you against the lockers with a crash, before smiling sweetly.

"What the fuck are you doing—"

You're immediately hushed by the feeling of something soft pressed against your lips, followed by the press of a hand against your groin and a thigh, nestled right between yours.

It takes a moment. You're not quite sure how to process this. It's instinct more than anything that makes your hands come to grasp and clutch Shuhua's ass firmly. She grins and lets out an approving hum, slipping her tongue in while squeezing harder against your groin and getting another equally pleasurable response of you tightening your grip on her.

There's a few moments of this, kissing, back against the lockers, Shuhua against your chest. Then, your tongue meets hers, and she lets a soft moan into your mouth. A moment of weakness that allows you to shove her backwards against the wall with a thump. It takes less than a moment and you're both back at it again, clawing away at each other. Your body presses her into the wall, lips parting before briefly, quickly reconnecting. Shuhua doesn't resist, and not long after, you've parted the kiss, she's moved her lips to your neck and you're running a hand down her thigh.

"What the fuck are you doing?" you growl into her ear as your fingertips approach the edge of those frustratingly short shorts. "Did your little brain figure out you can't win these events so you have to find other ways to know what winning feels like? If you can't beat them, fuck them?"

The girl pulls herself from your neck and takes a fist full of your hair. "You piece of shit," she seethes. "Like you aren't desperate for this pussy."

You aggressively push your hand up under her shorts and she squeaks as you clutch the flesh of her ass in a tight grip. You pull her and she raises a leg around you. "This pussy? You have got to be kidding me. Have you seen the cheerleaders at our school?"

She uses her legs to push you aside, forcing you to swap positions with her. She has you against the wall now, and her hand has dipped down the front of your shorts. She's grinning, groping you in a tight, frustratingly wonderful, fist. "Bunch of bimbos who fall to their knees as soon as you turn on the charm."

"I didn't even have to turn on the charm for you. What does that say about you?"

She takes a firmer grip on your length and a loud groan escapes from deep within you. Shuhua can't help herself, her lips quirking into that insufferable smirk, her eyes shining. "It says that you couldn't take your eyes off my ass the entire walk down that corridor, you fucking animal. You were practically salivating. Just like you're doing now."

She uses her free hand to swipe her thumb against the corner of your mouth.

"Pretty sure that's yours," you tell her before you slide your hands up her exposed sides and slip your fingers under her shirt, pulling it up and she quickly raises her free arm so you can slip it over it and over her head, leaving it around the arm still buried into your trousers.

There she is, bra and tits on show and being fucking annoyingly hot.

Even if she doesn't stop you from undressing her, she still berates you for it, "Look at you, can't wait to touch them, can you. Are you really that simple? See a pair of tits and you get hornier than a fucking dog in heat?"

"So says the girl who can't get her hand off my cock," you reply, hand slipping beneath her bra and your fingers closing around her nipple.

She raises an eyebrow and looks down at her chest, "Did I say you could touch me there?"

"So now we're talking consent, Miss 'Grab-cock-ask-questions-later'?" you snarl, fingers rolling the nipple in between them. "A bit late, don't you think?"

Shuhua's really stroking you now, even with limited space inside your shorts, she's able to use her thumb to circle around your sensitive tip with each jerk. "Yeah, well. I didn't sign up to get molested by a dickhead like you."

"Right back at you."

Shuhua laughs a little then cracks a wicked smile, one that is as seductive as it is contemptuous. The girl shrugs, reaches a hand behind her and unclasps her bra. She takes her hand out of your shorts and lets it fall off with her shirt. Bare little tits with stiff nipples stare at you—and you stare back. "Never seen a pair before? Or just not a pair on a girl as hot as me?"

"I've seen better."

"Yeah, sure you have sweetie." Shuhua tugs at the waist of your shorts and underwear until she pushes them down to your knees. "You know..." she starts as her gaze drops down to your aching shaft. "There's a rumour at our school that all the guys in your school are decidedly average down there, and are real bad at using them," she looks you in the eye with an eager smile, biting her lip.

"Want to know what they say about girls at your school?" You grab a hand full of her tit in a tight grasp and squeeze her flesh firmly, eliciting a sharp gasp. "They say all the girls are sluts but are fucking terrible at giving head. Funny, since all you seem to do is run your mouth." You push her back until it's your turn to have her pinned against the lockers. "Here, I'll show you how you can put that mouth to better use."

Pushing down on her shoulders, you guide her to her knees. "Hey, I never said that I—" You jerk your hips and you hit her on the cheek with your length. "The fuck?"

"You've been licking your lips since you pulled my shorts down. Stop pretending this isn't what you wanted." You rub yourself against her cheek.

"I should tear this ugly cock right off," Shuhua says as she wraps her fingers around the base of it. Then, before you have time to register it, her mouth is already on you, engulfing your head. The sudden wetness around your most delicate part, her tongue dancing along it, the suction her mouth produces; it's hard to comprehend all of it. What she says and what her mouth is doing contradict one another.

Then her head begins to bob, her lips firmly wrapped around your cock. As she sucks, she simultaneously strokes it, making sure no bit of you remains unserviced. It doesn't take long for her to build a tempo, and it doesn't take long for you to want more.

Your hand locks around her ponytail and she shivers when you pull at it. She glares at you but doesn't complain and continues working your length. Her mouth feels absolutely exquisite—warm, wet, and tight. With every stroke, the desire to be buried inside her gets stronger. You groan, moving her faster on your shaft.

"Rip it off, huh? Look at you sucking me off like the needy little whore you are. Just look at you."

Shuhua moans into you and she keeps on sucking. The vibrations the noise creates are an absolute pleasure. Your hips buck and the motion takes the girl by surprise, who immediately gags as you hit the back of her mouth. She immediately goes to draw back but the hand locked onto her ponytail refuses her release.

"Where the hell do you think you're going," you force your hips forward.

And you're off. You begin facefucking this annoying girl, who struggles and chokes every time you go balls-deep into her mouth. Still, not once does she try to push your hips, or her teeth to bite. Not once does her head make any gesture to signal that she actually wants you to stop, or even ease off. It seems she's determined to prove that she's not only better than all your cheerleaders, or your classmates, but she's also determined to prove that she's capable of taking everything you give, and all without needing to ask for respite.

"You're so much prettier when you aren't talking," you taunt her.

As a response, she stabs her nails into your ass. Hard. The pain makes you roar, both in surprise and anger. Shuhua simply responds by sucking you harder.

As fun as this is, the urge to ravage her more is still incredibly high, even if that means pulling out of the confines of the girl's sinful mouth. You give it a good couple of minutes before you finally relent and let her go. You pull your hips back and Shuhua instantly coughs, splutters and falls backwards onto her rear.

"The fuck do you think you're doing? I'm not done with that. Get it back here." She spits those words at you angrily, looking almost disgusted, with spit drooling down her chin and coating her lips.

You look at her, hunched over the floor, panting, in only her little yellow shorts. Looking more beautiful and desirable than you ever remember her doing on camera or out on the track. You fall on your knees in front of her and push your hand into her shorts, causing her breath to hitch and her pupils to dilate.

"Well aren't you eager?" she hums, letting out a husky purr as your fingertips tease the delicate lips of her entrance. "What's up, couldn't take any more of my mouth? We're you going to cum so quickly? I know you've never had anyone quite like me before."

"Not even close to cumming," you sneer. "In fact, let's get one thing clear. I don't have standards as low as the boys in your school, I don't just cum at the sight of some tits and the feel of your trashy mouth." Your finger slips past her lips and a surprised moan escapes her throat. "God you're fucking soaked."

"Trashy?" she scoffs and slowly rolls her body in response to your intruding digit. "Should have seen your face with my lips around you, you fucking adored it, dickhead. If you want disappointment, try being in my shoes. This pathetic excuse for fingering? It's like when I did it for the first time."

"Yeah?" You drive a second finger into her and curl your fingers as you begin to stand, forcing her to follow you to her feet. You push your body against hers, pinning her to the locker, squishing those tits against you.

She lets out a taunting, "Yeah" this time, huskily, while arching her back a little, raising those beautiful breasts. "And my first time was real bad. I couldn't even make myself cum. Maybe we do have something in common." While she's talking, you're using your other hand to free her shorts and panties from her hips, sliding them over that juicy ass that you press against the cold metal locker. "I doubt you have ever made a girl c—"

You move fast and hard. Your fingers curled into her cunt, palm pressed against her clit, thrusting into her, and your eyes fall right onto hers, piercing, right into her soul. Her eyes widen with shock and then quickly darken and roll back. Those sweet, vicious lips of hers open as her mind is stunned into silence and her face contorts in pleasure. "Cute," you smirk, speeding up.

"I—I'm fine. You—" You push your other hand against her neck and you lean right against her ear.

"Shut your pretty mouth," you growl, you thrust your fingers deeper. Shuhua can't control the shocks of her own pleasure as she grows limp, her eyes rolling back, her moans coming out uncontrollably and rapidly. Her pussy is quivering, pulsing, you can feel her orgasm growing inside.

You push closer and kiss her as the muscles in her lower belly spasm, and she trembles as her cunt clamps down on your fingers. Shuhua pulls and scrapes her fingers along your skin. "Fucking god, fuck," the girl tries to continue to speak, but she is in total ecstasy. You drink the words directly from her mouth.

When you pull away, her body falls away from the locker, but you hold her tightly and dip a hand right under the curve of her ass, keeping her standing. You smirk triumphantly. "Who can't make you cum, bitch?" you tease her.

"Fuck you," Shuhua mumbles into your ear.

"Oh, you will." You shuffle across the room, finding the nearest bench and falling back onto it, pulling Shuhua onto you. "This is all you're good for, I bet." You pull your shirt over your head and then Shuhua throws herself against your naked body. Her tits press against your bare chest, and your stiff cock is trapped between your stomachs.

"We'll see," she breathes, running a hand into your hair and yanking at the locks as she pulls herself upright.

Your lips meet hers, a passionate and desperate union as the need to be in her consumes your every fibre. Tongues dance and your hands explore one another's bodies. Groping, stroking, touching, squeezing, grinding. When the kiss ends, she leans her forehead against yours, her eyes lidded.

"I hate you," you growl into the space in front of her.

"You too," she says, hoisting her hips up over your cock. With a mischievous and playful look in her eye, she furrows her eyebrows. "But you won't when this is over. You're gonna fucking worship me."

Before you can think to retort, she sinks herself onto you and, after what feels like a torturously long series of minutes of teasing and waiting, your bodies finally unite. Her inner walls are unbelievably hot and wet, squeezing down around you as if desperate for you to remain buried within her. Shuhua makes no attempts to hide her expression, her head rolls back and her teeth press down on her lip to conceal an enchanting whine. Her breasts press firmly into your hands as you hastily reach to cup them.

It doesn't take long at all for the pair of you to adjust, and you begin to pump your hips beneath hers. She's fucking down onto you too and it's a mess, there's no rhythm, two different bodies fighting to control a single movement, all the while searching desperately for the best result. You're on different wavelengths, and it's glorious, the chaos is addictive. It's raw fucking, and it's fucking amazing.

As frustrating and confusing as it is, nothing in the world feels better right now. Your chest heaving with every desperate gasp as she grinds onto you and around you, her lust-filled gaze still struggling to fight away your shared frustrations, it's raw and incredible.

"Oh God, right there." Shuhua squeezes her eyes shut and buries her forehead into the crook of your neck, her body shuddering and tensing with every push you make into her. Her pace on you is irregular, sometimes slow, sometimes fast. But as her orgasm grows inside of her, she sinks harder and deeper down upon you, taking you as deep as she possibly can and as often as you will give it to her.

"Bad at using it, am I?" you jest with a strained voice, slapping her ass hard as the impact causes it to ripple. "So bad that you're cumming already?"

"Tch." She goes to speak, to say something witty and defiant, but the sensation hits and her eyelids flutter, she twitches and lets out a shuddering moan as another climax hits her, "Ah fuck. God." Her nails dig into the skin of your chest, hard, painful enough that you hiss. "I'm doing all the work here."

"As you should be. Getting the privilege to ride my cock, the least you could do is break a sweat," you tell her.

She opens her eyes to flash you a glare and she slams her body down on your hips a bit faster. "You just know— that you couldn't— fuck as good as me."

Shuhua rides you mercilessly, completely lost in her desire to get herself off again. You enjoy the way her tits bounce and the way you can freely land a series of spanks on her bouncing ass.

"Guess that makes me more of a winner than you'll ever be." She tries to bite her lip, to hide it, but the pleasure that shines through her features is impossible to miss. She cums again, harder, no doubt about it.

This time, when the climactic orgasm subsides, she fights against her exhaustion with ragged, heavy breaths. You can see her lips twitch. Words escape her, so instead, she focuses on attempting to ride your cock even more mercilessly, just like earlier.

"Looks like you're all spent," you continue and push a hand onto her hip, steadying her before shoving her aside and away, pulling out. Shuhua topples and stumbles onto the floor, with her hands on the bench, breathing heavily. She's bent over the bench and her back glistens with a thin layer of sweat, her ass up in the air. Her body trembles with anticipation.

You don't hesitate. Not for a single second.

Before Shuhua can so much as open her mouth, you're behind her, your hands on her hips, her skin slick.

"Here's your loser's prize," you tell her as you slide back home, back inside her, feeling yourself plunged so deeply. Her thick ass presses against your hips and you spread it to push in deeper. You take in the beautiful view of her well-toned, petite back. The outline of every muscle stretches and flexes as she claws desperately at the benches as her pleasure is recharged, and restored, as though the fire is reignited with your touch. She lets out a soft little hiss, the briefest hint of displeasure that's quickly overcome by her passion for the raw sensation of sex. She relishes your presence and your length, and as she relaxes once more, she allows herself to sink into the rhythm of the rut.

You fuck her, taking pleasure in the way her body pushes back against yours, your balls slapping against her, and the obscene wet noises as you take her from behind. It's a dizzying crescendo, a desire so great that it cannot possibly be contained. To both yourself and Shuhua, desire cannot be denied, for you to cum inside her.

All you have left now is to pound the life out of this smug bitch's tight cunt, one hard, sharp, aggressive thrust after the other.

"Finally—" You raise a hand and bring it down upon the cheek of her arse. Hard, harsh, jiggling. The skin flushes and burns an angry red. She squeals in delight, she arches her body up as she takes the rough fucking. "Finally something useful has come out of your fucking school. One good pussy, just for me." Another slap. Another cry.

"Making me cum, is all you're good for. Just a cock," she spits back as her body shakes and bucks back onto your hardness, "One good fuck, just for me."

Shuhua straight-up shrieks when you wrap a fist up in her ponytail and yank her backwards, arching her spine. She cums again like this, and the hot rush of pleasure sends you spiralling off the edge yourself. It is utterly satisfying, the burning in your loins, and the immense pleasure that follows as your dick unloads in powerful spurt after powerful spurt. All of the tension evaporates, and all the negativity flows away as you find absolute pleasure. Shuhua takes what you give to her and it's absolute bliss.

For the longest moment, there's nothing but moans and grunts as you cum together before you let her collapse against the bench and you fall over her. Shuhua heaves beneath you, your warm fluids slowly leaking out around your exhausted cock. You suck in deep, gulping lungfuls of air as you grind out the final dying sparks of a well and truly mind-numbing orgasm.

"Still feel the same way about me now?" you groan. Your cock slips out, followed by a mixture of your combined orgasmic release.

Her head lifts. Hazel eyes focus and then fixate on yours. She almost manages to mask the grin, but she can't help it. Shuhua bites her bottom lip and glances at the space where, moments ago, your body had been conjoined.

"I still hate you. Don't think this means I'm suddenly a fangirl."

"Of course not, it's in your DNA to hate me. Just like how the sight of you still makes me sick." You place a kiss against the top of her spine and savour the brief hum of approval she gives.

"Uh-huh." Shuhua laughs. "Shame you couldn't last a little longer... I was just about to let you fuck my virgin ass." She lays her forehead against the cool wood of the bench, and you rest your head between her shoulder blades. "I guess my pussy is just too much for you."

"Or maybe," you hiss into her ear. "Maybe I'm saving that for the next time I catch your obnoxious ass around here."

"You think there will be a next time?"

"I know there will."

#kinktember #kpop smut #Shuhua smut #gidle smut #kpop fanfic #male reader #m reader #smut #shuhua x reader #maid play #(G)i-dle smut #gidle x reader

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luulapants · 2 years ago

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Existential despair is so common in a person's twenties, I think, because up until that point, we've had a pretty clear road map for what's expected of us and we haven't had much reason to question that map. There are still a few milestones outlined for us (start a career, get married, make babies) but more and more young people are entering the post-school world and realizing:

A) that career thing just isn't happening like they said it would

B) I'm not ready to get married/I don't want to get married/marriage isn't the sort of life-altering event that it used to be

C) I'm not ready to make babies/I don't want a baby/I can't afford to raise children right now (see point A)

And in the absence of these milestones to shoot for (which one could argue weren't the promise of fulfillment they claimed to be in the first place), what we're left with is this aimless abyss of "the rest of our lives" sprawling out ahead of us with no indication of how it will go or what we should be doing to shape it. Young people start their first jobs, find they hate them, and think to themselves, "Is this it? Am I just supposed to do this job until I'm too old to do it or die first?"

Which is, yeah, really fucking depressing!! So here's my best attempt at an alternate roadmap for young people that don't vibe with the old model. Please feel free to add in your own suggestions!

Learn how you work and what you want out of a job. Unless you've been in a job-specific training program that gives you hands-on experience, your first jobs should be experiments. Learn how a full-time job feels for you, what elements are more or less difficult. Different workplaces have different cultures and expectations - what do you need out of a job environment? Do you need to find fulfillment in your job or is it enough for it to pay the bills and leave you time to find outside fulfillment? Do you want to climb a corporate ladder or are you content to hunker down as long as your bills get paid? This period of experimentation is exhausting and may feel like it's consuming your whole life.

Learn how to make time for things outside of work. Adapting to a full-time work environment often leaves you feeling so drained that you can't do anything but go home and collapse on the couch every day. That's fine - for a little while. But it can also become a habit. You need to learn how to do things after work or you'll go crazy. Go to a trivia night. Start an exercise schedule. Take a class in your community. Find volunteer work. Join a band. You will find that putting more things into your day makes you feel like you have more time, not less.

Find a community. Making friends as an adult can feel impossible. Where do you find these mysterious friends everyone seems to have?? This goes along with #2, though. As you start regularly attending the same activities, you will find that repeat interactions with the same people turn into friendships or at least friendly acquaintances. Say yes to invitations. Get involved in your local community. Strive to be connected enough to bump into people at the grocery store.

Unlearn bad lessons. We all internalize some messed up things when we're growing up. As you start off your adult life, that's the time to actively work at unpacking the things you've brought with you from childhood and deciding which things are helping you and which things are harming you. This might mean therapy or joining a spiritual group or reading new things or just making special time to be in your own head.

Learn the lessons you missed. In this, I mostly mean practical things. "Adulting." Areas of your day-to-day practical life that are causing you extreme stress are probably related to a knowledge or experience gap. Do you hate cooking and cleaning or were you not taught how to do it properly? Are you afraid of making medical appointments or is it just something new you're not used to? Does money make you queasy or do you need to learn how to make a budget?

Find something fulfilling. This can be your job. It can be volunteer work. It can be faith. It can be a hobby. It can be creating things. It can be challenging yourself physically. It can be activism. It can be going for walks in nature. Everyone finds fulfillment in different places. If you're not finding it where you are, look somewhere else.

#adulting #advice

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tetragonia · 28 days ago

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Midsummer's Heat

Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

When your best friend, Rafe, takes you from the suffocating Midsummer party and leads you to a quiet tower just to ruin the friendship you two have.

warning: mmm nothing just slowburn smut bc i think i'll get my period in a few days lol. whatever they're having (kissing, fingering, penetrating) are consensual

words: 2.7k (i mean rafe literally talks you through it)

The hum of laughter and clinking glasses fades as you follow Rafe down a narrow path through the trees, away from the brightly lit Midsummer's party to a lounge tower. The crowd, the noise, and the pressure to act like the perfect Kook have been draining, and you’re grateful for the escape.

He turns to you with that familiar smirk, the one he always had back at the academy. You used to give him a hard time about that smirk. Now though, it brings back a flood of memories, and you can’t help but smile. He’s always been protective and gentle, all best friend material. Or maybe that could change tonight.

"All these years, you were never above all this Midsummer’s crap," Rafe says, crossing his arms as he leans back against the pillar, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that you feel in your bones.

You laugh, rolling your eyes. "I am above it. I just thought it’d be nice to get dressed up and pretend, for once. But as soon as I got there, I regretted it."

He chuckles, reaching out to tug playfully at the hem of your dress.

“And this is how you protest Midsummers? By looking like... that?” His voice dips, and you feel a shiver run down your spine.

“Shut up,” you mutter, though you don’t pull away. “Like you’re one to talk. You look like you were made for these ridiculous parties.”

“Guess we’re both hypocrites, huh?” he says softly, his tone uncharacteristically serious. You’re close enough now that you can see the way his jaw tightens, the flicker of something in his eyes that isn’t just amusement.

It’s almost instinctual, the way you move closer to him. Suddenly, you’re not sure if it’s the night air, the thrill of sneaking away from everyone, or just the warmth of his body next to yours, but your heart is racing.

"Rafe, remember how you used to skip out on these things back in school?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. "We’d hide away and talk about how we’d never end up like all of them."

He nods, his gaze locked on yours, and his expression softens. “Yeah. Guess we lied to ourselves a little, huh?”

“Maybe,” you murmur, stepping even closer. His hand moves to your waist, lingering there, and suddenly, the air between you thickens. It’s as if something you’ve both kept buried for so long has come rushing to the surface, and neither of you is willing to push it back down.

The next thing you know, his lips are on yours, tentative at first, almost as if he’s testing the waters. But when you respond, threading your fingers through his hair, he pulls you closer, his kiss deepening with a hunger that sends a spark racing through your body. The rough bark of the shed digs into your back as he presses you against it, his hands finding your waist and holding you as if he’s afraid to let go.

You break the kiss, gasping slightly, your forehead resting against his as you catch your breath. His hand slides up, fingers tracing the curve of your jaw, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

“You sure about this?” he asks, his voice low and ragged, his eyes searching yours.

You nod, breathless, barely able to think of anything other than the way he’s looking at you right now.

“Yeah, Rafe. I’m sure.”

He doesn’t hesitate this time, pulling you into another kiss, one that’s hungrier, needier. You can feel the heat building between you, the feeling of being utterly consumed by the moment. You don’t care about Midsummer, or the people waiting back at the party.

Rafe’s hands roam up and down your sides, drawing you even closer as he trails a line of slow, deliberate kisses down your neck. You tilt your head back, breath catching in your throat as he pulls you tighter against him. The world outside feels like a distant memory, the party, the people, and even the usual self-consciousness fades away under his touch.

Your eyes flicker open briefly, just enough to glance around the small space. It’s dark, and the shadows shield you both, but the thrill of sneaking away fills you with a sudden rush of uncertainty. You turn your head slightly, Rafe’s mouth never leaving your skin.

“Rafe,” you whisper, breathless, and he pauses, warm lips hovering against your collarbone. His eyes meet yours, a question lingering in their depths.

“This place… are you sure it’s safe?” you glance around again, your voice soft but with a hint of worry. “No one can see us up here, right?”

He leans in, his forehead brushing against yours as he gives you a reassuring nod, a small smile on his lips.

“Promise, this crib got those very thick mosquito nets,” he murmurs, his voice a deep, soothing rumble. “No one knows we’re here, and they wouldn’t dare come looking for me anyway.”

Satisfied, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, and Rafe’s hands slide around to the small of your back, pulling you against him once more.

“Good,” you breathe, your heart racing as you feel the solid warmth of him against you.

He picks up where he left off, his mouth returning to the sensitive spot just below your ear, and this time, there’s a newfound urgency in his movements. His hands roam your body, each touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake, and he’s so close that you can feel the rhythm of his heartbeat matching yours. You can’t hold back anymore, your own hands tracing his shoulders, pressing him closer as if you could melt into him entirely.

Rafe’s mouth finds yours again, and this time, the kiss is fierce, almost desperate, a shared longing you’ve both been holding back for too long. His fingers tangle in your hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, and you can feel the warmth of his breath, the roughness of his hands, the way he makes you feel completely and utterly alive.

His lips trail back to your neck, and as he presses you against the wooden wall of the shed. His hands glide down, hooking around your thighs to lift you up. You instinctively wrap your legs around him, his body pressing against yours with a delicious weight that leaves you dizzy. The world outside slips further away, nothing but shadows and whispers in the distance.

“Can’t believe it took us this long,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice rough and breathless as he plants kisses along your collarbone, his hands slipping under the hem of your dress, his touch igniting every nerve.

Your fingers trace down his back, holding him close, letting the heat between you both build until you’re lost in the rhythm of his kisses, the warmth of his touch, the feeling of being completely and perfectly his, if only for this stolen moment.

He gives you a soft, reassuring smile as he leans down, gently guiding you to sit, his hands warm and steady as they hold yours. His touch is firm but gentle, every movement deliberate, as if he’s savoring each second with you.

“You comfortable?” he asks quietly, his voice low and soothing, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand.

You nod, breathless, your pulse quickening as he reaches out, his fingers tracing a slow path along your thigh. His touch is warm and delicate, a quiet promise of what’s to come. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his hand slipping lower, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Just tell me if it’s too much,” he murmurs, gliding his fingers down and tracing gentle circles that make you shiver, his movements slow and patient. You feel the warmth of his touch, the careful way he explores every inch, making you feel seen and cherished.

You close your eyes, letting yourself relax into the sensation, the softness of his touch and the comfort of his presence. You shiver, both from what he does and from the wind. Rafe still guides you through it, his hand steady and sure with eyes never leaving yours.

His fingers move in a circle, faster and curl deeper. They scratch you in the right place, stretching you open with blazing lust.

“Just breathe, alright?” he says softly, his left hand resting on your hip, holding you. “I’ve got you. It’s just us here.”

You feel his fingers move faster and he watches you, reading every response, adjusting his movements to make you feel completely at ease.

“Rafe, I—”

You couldn’t even continue, as Rafe plays faster. Your knees go weak, hands scratching the sofa. Your eyes flutter in an ecstasy.

“Yes, Sweetheart?” his voice soft, but also there’s a hint of a ragged breath. His desire starts to pool between his pants.

You feel the warmth of his breath as he leans closer, whispering words of reassurance, a steady presence guiding you through the intimacy of the moment.

“I—I’m about to—” you bite your lips, letting a soft moan into the night. “Rafe, I’m—”

“Don’t hold it, Sweetheart,” Rafe kisses your lips, leaving you shuddering as you finally collapse into his fingers. He smiles and looks proud.

“You’re doing so good,” he says, as he shifts and takes off his belt. You gulp, this is going to be the first time after everything. You’re ready to ruin your friendship with Rafe.

You watch as Rafe unzips his pants. His bowtie hangs loose, his suit lying somewhere. He moves on top of you, hands slowly tracing your inner thigh. You shudder.

Rafe bends down, spreading your legs even wider and kisses your right knee. And then the left one. And he gets closer to your inner thigh, kisses it tenderly.

“God, you have no idea what you do to me, do you?” Rafe looks up, lips parting. “I’ve been wanting this for so long, and now that you’re here… I don’t think I’ll ever get enough.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” you murmur, trailing your fingers on his hair, don’t even want to waste any second. “Show me just how much you’ve wanted this.”

“Yeah?” Rafe moves on top of you, pressing his lips on yours and letting you taste yourself. He groans softly against your lips, pausing for a moment to kick his pants and throw it somewhere. He stands tall in front of you.

You’re in awe. It’s so big, and hard. You’ve seen enough videos to know the perfect size, and this is more than perfect. Rafe walks closer, he helps you take off your dress, as you both need it no more. He throws it to the floor as you start to breath heavily, adrenaline taking you.

“It’s so big, Rafe,” you let out a shaky breathe when Rafe put himself between your thigh. He starts to caress your breasts with his fingers, bending down and kissing them slowly.

“I know you’d take it so well, Pretty Girl,” he takes his time to answer before sucking your nipples. His tongue moves in circle, biting it softly. You groaned and throw your head, feeling hot. And before you know, Rafe stands tall and closer, and starts to brush your fold with his tip.

“You’re so wet already, Baby,” Rafe groans softly, pushing it gently and starts to relax inside you.

“Rafe!” you moaned, in pleasure and pain. “I have never taken anyone before.”

Hearing your confession, you could feel it twitches. “I’d be gentle with you, Sweetheart. You’re taking me so well.”

Rafe starts to hump his hips towards yours, as both moaned in pleasure. Rafe kisses you, as your fingers digging his back and your legs squeezing his waist.

“Yes,” you gasp, starting to feel the rhythm. “Don’t stop. Please. Please.”

“You feel so good, you know that?” Rafe’s voice drops lower, a little rougher now, as his fingers trail down your breast. “I could do this all night.”

You fit around him like perfection, letting out whimpers when he hits the spot over and over until you’re worked up. As his touches grow rougher, his breathing becomes heavier, and he lets out a soft growl as he pulls you against him.

“You’re driving me insane, you know that?” he whispers, his hands gripping your waist firmly. “I can’t control myself when I’m with you… you make me lose it.”

Rafe growls softly, telling you how good you feel, you give him a mischievous smile, trailing your fingers down his chest. You feel his lips trail down your collarbone, his voice a low murmur against your skin.

“Eyes on me, Pretty Girl,” Rafe groans, and you force your eyes to stay open. It’s so hard when the pleasure tries to drown you. “You’re so tight and you’re taking me so well. Don’t hold back, baby. Let me hear you.”

You don’t leave his gaze, intense and full of desire. Even when your eyes flutter, you try to look at his pretty face.

“Come on, I want to know that I’m the one making you feel this way,” Rafe’s voice is both commanding and tender.

“Yes, Baby,” you try to keep your eyes open. “Oh, Rafe—”

You let out a moan, louder than before when Rafe thrusts faster, rougher. His movement fills with an unrestrained hunger that’s impossible to ignore, picking up his pace.

“Very good, Sweetheart. You’re all mine, got it?” he kisses you hard, his grip firm on your hips. “No one else gets to see you like this. Just me.”

Your breaths come quicker, your hands grasping at him, needing more as the world around you fades into a blur. The only things you’re aware of are his touch, his breath against your skin, and the steady, overwhelming connection between you.

In the quiet of the shed, hidden away from the world, Rafe holds you close, moving with you as if you’re the only two people left on earth. His hands are firm yet tender, as if he’s savoring this as much as you are. You feel yourself slipping away, surrendering to the sensations, the heat, the rhythm between you both that seems to pull you deeper into a place where only the two of you exist.

“I don’t think I could ever let you go… not after this,” he kisses you again, softer this time, but his eyes still burn with that undeniable need. “You’re perfect. And I want every inch of you.”

“Good,” you murmur, your fingers running through his hair. “I like it when you lose control.”

As you move together, you can feel Rafe’s breathing grow heavier, each breath coming faster, more ragged. His grip tightens, his hands slipping down to hold you even closer, as if he’s grounding himself in you. He presses his forehead to yours, eyes half-closed, his gaze flickering between desire and a raw, unspoken need.

He whispers your name, his voice low and filled with a quiet desperation.

“Baby… I’m… I’m so close,” he murmurs, his hand gently cradling the back of your neck as his lips brush yours. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes, something soft and real that he’s letting you see, and it makes your heart race even faster.

He leans into you, pressing you closer, his movements becoming a little more frantic, more intense, as if he’s no longer able to hold anything back.

“Rafe!” you cry in joy when he bends, sucking your nipple roughly. As he leaves more marks on you, he thrusts faster, deeper, and needier.

“Stay with me,” he breathes, his voice breaking slightly as he loses himself in the moment. “Please… Baby, I’m coming.”

You hold him tightly, feeling him tremble against you, and suddenly it feels warm. You catch your breath, he does the same. As he finally lets go, you feel the weight of everything he’s kept hidden lets down just for you. It leaves you both breathless, completely wrapped up in each other.

And as he looks at you, his eyes filled with something you’d never thought you’d see—something tender and raw—you know that this is a moment you’ll remember long after Midsummer fades into memory.

705 notes · View notes

rueclfer · 9 days ago

Text

everything is embarrassing // izuku midoriya

when he doesn't know how to take control of his life

a/n: 6k+ words lmao i feel crazzzzzy ok bye

19-year-old izuku doesn't have the privilege of hopping around college parties on the weekends or enjoy the “college experience” like his friends do.

he can barely catch a break to breathe.

monday through friday he's in classes from 8:00am to 4:00pm, and for more than half of the week from 6:00pm to 12:00am, he's working at the campus library- simultaneously shelving returns, organizing files, and scrambling to finish his homework. on the weekends, he'll be at his part time job at the local cafe just down the street from his dorm building.

it hasn't been an easy semester for izuku. he's a year behind his friends and he wants nothing more than to be able to walk across that stage with them by the end of their fourth year, but nothing comes easy when you’ve been out of school for a year, no money, have a scholarship on the line, and a single mother at home to make proud.

he's watching the time go by. his eyes darting back and forth between the ticking needle on the analog clock and you sitting at your usual table with your headphones on, attention glued to your textbook, and the tapping of your pencil growing louder by the second.

occasionally, he'd let himself clock out and lock up about 5-10 minutes early if there was no one lingering around on his floor, and all of the day's work had been completed. no one stays as late in the library as you do. it annoys him.

5-10 minutes is crucial to izuku.

he could get a head-start on his commute back to his dorm. if he walks quickly enough, he'd be back before 12:15am, be ready for bed by 12:35am, and he'd be able to get at least 6 hours of sleep.

if he's lucky.

but you. you were always there until the very last minute- sometimes even past closing.

it's 12:05am. how could anyone be so careless to not keep an eye on the time? can’t you see that it’s only you two left on this floor? did you not hear the 10 minute closing warning on the intercom?

if he wasn't running on a couple hour of sleep, a poor excuse for dinner, and 6 hours worth of brain numbing work, he wouldn't have the nerves to approach you so casually. he'd be replaying what he wanted to say in his head, stumbling over his words, and hope you wouldn't take offense to it.

"the library's closed." he bluntly says, still maintaining a few feet of distance.

you don't hear him or notice his presence at all. you're lost in that textbook and your mind is fumbling through these terms and definitions staring back at you.

izuku blinks once. then twice.

"hey." he starts again, taking a step closer and setting a hand down on the table right above your textbook.

you look up and catch the library worker’s tired eyes. your gaze immediately flickers to the analog clock hung on the wall past his shoulder.

12:12am

“oh shit!” you exclaim, ripping off your headphones. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry, i lost track of time.”

you slam your textbook shut, rubbing your eyes against the back of your hand. how long had you been at it like this? studying the hours away in your own corner of the library?

“yeah.” izuku breathily chuckles, a sense of relief washing over him as he watches you haphazardly shove your books and papers in your bag. “sorry, i hate to interrupt a good study session, but i’m kinda tired, and if i stay here for another minute, the shelves might start talking to me.”

“god, don’t be sorry. i get it.” you laugh, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “i’m here, like, everyday. i’m sure everyone who works here is sick of me by now.”.

“yeah, me too.” he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck as you two make your way towards the exit. “here everyday, that is.” he quips, nervously running a hand through his tousled hair.

“look at us, so scholarly.” your voice dripping in sarcasm. you turn your head over your shoulder to meet his eye. “paying so much money for this university to drain us of all joy in life.”

“well, i’m on a scholarship.” izuku mutters. “so i guess i still have some joy left?

“yeah? well that’s actually even worse.”

“is it?” he cocks an eyebrow.

“you have much more to lose.”

the next time you two see each other, he’s knelt over an open filing cabinet, digging through dividers for some sort of paperwork.

since that night you’ve met, university life has felt a bit less lonely- something about taking a 20 minute walk to your dorm buildings, which happens to be right next to each other, complaining about how terrible of time you’re having adjusting to university life really brings people together.

“hey.” you cough.

izuku looks up to see you sporting a coffee cup in each hand.

“oh. it’s you. hey.”

you hold one out to him, waiting for him to take it, but all he does is give you a blank stare as his eyes flicker between your own and the cup outreached towards him.

“take it.” you chuckle. “i brought it for you. you looked like shit last time i saw you, so...”

the corners of his mouth quirks up into a smile, gingerly accepting the hot cup of coffee.

“...so this is your apology for staying past closing the other night?” he teases.

“oh definitely not.” you scoff. “i’ll be doing it again tonight too, don’t you worry.”

he nods his head, taking a deep swig of the bittersweet coffee. “see you at midnight, then.”

“see you at midnight.” you confirm, sending him a smile as you pull your headphones over your ear and head towards the back of the library where your designated table was waiting for you.

at 21-years-old, izuku goes to his first house party. it takes you about a week to convince him to give you one of his saturday nights that he’d usually reserve for studying or catching up on sleep.

“please.” you beg once more. “what are you going to say to your future students? how are you going to say you had the college experience without going to a single party?”

“with a degree?” he chuckles, slinging a rag over his shoulder. “you’re also distracting me. i’m on the clock, and my boss can come back anytime, you know.”

“oh, please.” you roll your eyes. “if toshinori was here, he’d be telling you to put your big boy pants on and get drunk with his favorite customer tonight. and if you agreed the first time i asked, i wouldn’t have to follow you to your second place of employment.”

“i’m sorry, i can’t. maybe next time?”

“please, izuku, just one party. i’ll help you get ready after your shift. we’ll leave anytime you want, but i can guarantee you’ll have so much fun. i promise i’ll never ask you again if you really do end up hating it.”

he can imagine it now- if someone asked him about his college experience, he wouldn’t mention the parties, the professors, or the time spent away from home. he’d talk about you.

izuku has a hard time balancing his life between keeping up with the workload and trying to not let his days blend into a muddy gray, but you had perfectly fit somewhere in between all of the chaos like a fresh breath of air.

izuku was tired, and you were a shot of espresso. how can he say no to you?

“fine.” he sighs in defeat, sliding a cup of coffee across the counter towards you. “but i can’t be out that late, okay? i have to be back here in the morning.”

“what the fuck happened?” you slam the door shut behind you, muffling out chatter of the crowd and heavy bass shaking through the walls.

you twist a wad of toilet paper into a cone before plugging the stream of blood gushing from his nose.

“sorry, sorry, sorry!” he repeats, holding the toilet paper in place with a bewildered look in his eyes.

“i don’t know what happened,” he starts in a nasally tone “maybe it’s all the smoke in the air or something. i heard that second hand smoke can be really drying for your nasal passages, especially if there’s not a lot of ventilation like in this apartment, i also haven’t been drinking a lot of water today and-”

“aht!” you interrupt, nudging him over with your elbow to rinse your hands off from the bloody residue. “my theory is that your body is shutting down on itself from the lack of proper sleep and nutrition. thoughts?”

izuku pouts. “stop it. i had a protein shake before we came, remember?”

“of course, how could i forget about the most rancid concoction you managed to blend together?” you mutter, wetting a wad of toilet paper and dabbing away the dried blood that had fallen onto his chin and t-shirt.

he cocks an eyebrow at you, holding up the red solo cup containing a questionable blue liquid that you shoved in his hands to hold when his nose started dripping blood.

“wow, since when were you a chem major? since you know so much about ‘rancid concoctions,’ huh?” he deadpans.

“izuku midoriya, are you getting sassy with me?” you scoff, grabbing the cup back from his hands.

“maybe i am.” he presses his lips together to suppress a smirk. “or maybe i’m just making an observation.”

izuku had finally started learning how to bite back. somewhere within the last year, the skittish library worker who you enjoyed pestering had grown the confidence to return your relentless teasing.

you weren’t sure how to take it- how giddy it made you feel and how much more of it you wanted to draw out of him.

to him, it was all a front. he perfected the line delivery with ease, but at the cost of his chest tightening and stomach turning over the sight of your amused smile and lit up eyes. this made him anxious.

you have much more to lose

everytime he sees you, he’s reminded of your very first conversation together when you were first years. he’s acutely aware of how much he has to lose, but if there’s one thing izuku could not bear to risk losing during the worst few years of his life, it was you.

“uh, why are you looking at me like that?” he nervously chuckles, his ears growing hot from trailing your eyes as they glaze over his face.

“i love you.” you smile, the alcohol finally making its way to your head. “a lot.”

izuku’s breathing stops for a moment. his eyes widen, and the nervous giggles continue pouring out as his facade from minutes earlier crumbles completely.

“why are you laughing?” you chuckle, taking a sip from your cup, choking back a grimace.

“i…i don’t know.” he bites his bottom lip, suddenly aware of his nervous habit. “you’re just being a silly drunk right now."

“what? because i said i love you?” you cock your head with a lazy smile “the L-word got your panties in a twist?”

“don’t know what you mean.” he turns his attention back to the mirror, subtly swiping his sweaty palms on his thighs before unplugging the tissue from his nose.

for the first time in his life, he’s simultaneously grateful and regretful for alcohol. grateful for the red sheen over his face to mask his blush. regretful for the carelessness it caused you with your words.

he doesn’t have the time or energy to entertain it. that is the one thing he’s certain of. he wouldn’t be good for you- wouldn’t give you the time and attention you deserved. he loves you too. he loves you enough to not say it back.

“it stopped bleeding. i think i’ll have to leave soon, so let’s get back out there, yeah? i’ll make you a better drink, too.”

he shoots you a forced grin before grabbing you by the shoulders and ushering you two back to the party where you reunite with your roommates and mutual friends. you leave your drink in the bathroom.

on the day izuku turns 22-years-old, he finds out that he’s on track to graduate with you and his friends. after stepping out for a quick phone call with his academic advisor, he drunkenly cries into your shoulder mid-birthday party (that his boss at the cafe forced him to take the time off to have).

all of the hard work and courses he packed on during his first two years at university finally paid off. though, that doesn't mean he’s gotten any easier on himself.

he quits his job at the library and starts student teaching part time at the local middle school for college credit.

you barely see him now-a-days. more often than not, your texts go unanswered.

izuku is a busy guy.

you miss him. you didn't realize how lonely it felt to walk back to your dorm from the library at midnight by yourself- you haven't felt this way for a while, not since you met izuku.

you wished he made it easier for you. your feelings for him never subsides, but instead grows into a longing ache. it’ll be like this until graduation. the occasional text message, running into each other in the halls with quick hello and goodbye, coming into his weekend job just to see him for a few reassuring moments- you know you both needed it.

he talks about you to his students a lot- “my best friend,” “someone important to me,” “my support system,” and etc. he’s always referring to you.

he missed seeing you all the time, but it’s all been so hectic for him he hates to admit that you barely cross his mind when he’s in the midst of a busy day. on top of his regular grueling school work, he has to lesson-plan for the days he’s teaching, grade papers, as well as check in with his professors and mentors.

he doesn’t know how he does it.

working in that library was excruciating, but he missed nothing more than the last half hour of his shifts where it’d just be you two, sending shy glances at one another until it hit midnight. he doesn’t even mind the rest of the 6 hour shift where you’re just sitting in the same spot that you always gravitate towards, head in the textbook for him to look up at every now and then.

you tell him you love him for the second time at the end of your graduation party when all of the guests have cleared out of your half empty apartment.

“what?” his eyes go wide, exactly like they did a year ago.

“i love you, izuku.” you ball the sides of your graduation gown, wrinkling the fabric in your hands.

you’re sober this time, which makes it infinitely more painful to say out loud.

his mouth gapes open as if he’s a fish gasping for water. he doesn’t know what to say.

“i have for years.” you fill in the silence, fidgeting with the silky material. “ever since you kicked me out of that fucking library, i think. i don’t know. maybe i’m being stupid, but i can’t help it. i love you, and i need you to know before… you know.”

it’s been three years, and you’ve waited until this night to pour it all out because you knew that in less than 24 hours, you’d be going your separate ways.

in a perfect situation, izuku would tell you that he feels the same. he’d run through an airport to stop you from leaving and beg you to stay with him. you wouldn’t have to go back home. you’d share an apartment. live in the city. start your entry jobs. you’d have time together.

“i’m sorry.” is all he says. “i’m sorry.” he repeats.

tears well in his eyes, and he grabs you by the shoulders to pull you into his chest.

“sheesh, you’re such a crybaby.” you choke out a half chuckle, your eyes running hot now. “don’t be sorry, okay? i get it. i know.”

your arms tightly wrap around izuku’s waist as you two silently sob into one another. his hand runs through your hair, stopping at the nape of your neck to pull you closer.

there’s something much more painful behind this confession to cry about. you’re leaving the city, and you have no reason to stay. for the first time in three years, izuku won’t be within arm’s reach and you’re left with the cold reality of navigating your future without your best friend by your side.

“you know, i..” he begins, pulling you back to look at your face, searching for the right words, or an answer. “it’s not that i don’t feel the same, okay?”

his cheeks lightly dust over pink. it’s the first time he’s admitted that out loud.

“i know.” you sadly smile, your hand reaching up to wipe away the stray tears left on his cheeks. “we’ll be okay. we worked hard for this, izuku.”

izuku felt like throwing up. he had spent the last three years working himself into the ground with endless all-nighters, black coffees, and missed events to get everything he’s ever wanted for his future, so why does it feel like his world is slipping from between his fingers?

yes, he worked hard, but he wondered if it was all enough?

“i’m going to miss you.” he mutters, connecting your foreheads together. “i already do. you’re everything to me.”

“me more. i’ll miss you more.”

after that night, you don’t see izuku again for a long time.

izuku jumps into his new position at the local high school in the same school district as the middle school he worked at during his last year of university. he feels a sense of relief everytime he walks into his school building- something that he couldn’t ever say during his years as a student.

you move back home and land an entry job at a startup tech company. it’s boring work, but at least it’s remote and your days don’t mesh into one- you made sure you would never have to go through that again.

you try to stay connected, but work is busy, and you’re both trying to figure out what life is supposed to look like post-grad. occasionally, you’ll send each other a meaningless “thinking of you” message, but you eventually lose contact after a couple of years of trying to plan visits and meet ups- there is just no time. there never was.

at 27-years-old, izuku is spending his late afternoon sitting in his empty classroom with one of his students. it’s half an hour past their scheduled parent-teacher conference time, and he’s wondering if he should just reschedule.

“are you sure your mom is coming? did you tell her the right time and date?” izuku sighs, resting his head on a propped elbow.

“duh. what kind of student do you think i am?” they scoff, glancing up at him from their phone.

“judging by your grades, i know exactly the kind of student you are.” he mumbles.

izuku’s trying to not panic, the kid clearly isn’t, but he’s wondering how far back this sets his schedule. he should be starting on the stack of papers to grade by now. he still needs to write out a lesson plan for tomorrow. maybe the kids deserve a movie day? maybe he deserves a movie day.

“don’t freak out.” izuku hears from outside of his door “you’re fine. it’s okay. seriously, chill the fuck out you weren’t interrupting anything, i needed a break anyways. i’m walking in right now. yeah, i’ll let you know how it goes.”

finally.

izuku straightens up, and tightens his tie. he whips open his laptop and pulls up the tabs of grades and assignments to discuss.

“i’m so sorry-” the voice falters at the end as it enters the classroom.

“don’t be, i was just-” izuku glances up from his screen and his throat suddenly closes shut.

5 years later, and the universe leads you back to one another. here. in his classroom.

“izuku midoriya?” you cough out.

for the first time in his life, he doesn’t like the way his name sounds coming out of your mouth. it’s hesitant. it sounds foreign. it makes him question himself for a moment.

yes? that’s me, right? it’s me, izuku. your izuku.

“what are…uh.. you…here?” he stammers, unable to get the words out.

you take a step forward into the classroom. you could pass out at the sight of him. he still seemed as boyish as ever. maybe a bit broader, and taller, but his hair is still just as wild as it was in university. you can’t help but feel a twinge of insecurity as you wonder if you looked any different as well.

“uh…where’s mom?” your nephew glances back and forth between you two starstrucked at the sight of one another. “we have to look over my grades and stuff, you know.”

“right!” you exclaim. “your mom got caught up at work, so she asked me to come in.” you awkwardly shift in your position, your eyes never leaving izuku’s.

izuku’s face flares up in heat, snapping back into the present as his eyes flicker back towards his student.

“you know what? let’s reschedule that. you can go and i’ll see you tomorrow?” he quickly stands up, knocking over his chair and hitting his knee against his desk in the process.

“really?” they cock an eyebrow at the shift in behavior from the two adults in the room.

“yup! we’re running late and i have a meeting right now, so i’ll just email your mom to reschedule.” he forces a reassuring grin, making his way around his desk. “don’t forget to read over the syllabus to see what’s due, alright?”

“alright, i guess. see you tomorrow then, sensei” they shoot you a questioning side glance as they sling their backpack over their shoulder. “are you taking me home?”

“no.” you say, almost a bit too quickly. “uh, i have some errands to run before your mom gets back home, so you go on ahead i’ll see you at home.”

once your nephew leaves, unsuspecting of the thick line of tension running between his aunt and teacher, izuku quickly rushes over and shuts his door.

“whatareyoudoinghere?” the sentence leaves his mouth in an incoherent string of words. he grabs you by the shoulders and lets his eyes take in your face. every curve, every mark, every wrinkle, old and new.

you feel 19 again. you guess the urge to kiss izuku midoroya never leaves you, after all.

“my sister just got a new job, so i’m living with her and helping her out with the kids while she adjusts.” you breathlessly stare at him. “i didn’t know you were still in the city.”

of course he’s still here- exactly where you left him after all these years. his grip on your shoulders tightens as a response. he’s scared that if he lets go, you’ll be gone for good, or at least for another 5 years.

“we should catch up.” you smile, grabbing onto his forearms as a warmth crawls up your next “when are you free? i mean, you’re probably really busy, but even a phone call-”

“tonight? how about tonight?” he blurts out. “we can go somewhere?”

izuku reassures himself that it’s fine. the kids can have a movie day, and he’ll spend that time grading papers and catching up on work. the only thing he needs is right in front of him.

seeing your face light up makes him feel nothing but nostalgic euphoria. he never wants to lose this feeling again.

“i’ll text you, then? you still have my number?”

he almost laughs in your face. your text conversation has been pinned to the top since the day you exchanged phone numbers.

“by heart.”

“tech? like you work in IT?” izuku’s face scrunches in disgust. he almost spits his drink out. “why the hell would you do that to yourself?”

“shut up!” you rub your face in your hands, snorting out a laugh. “it’s easy, i’m in a senior position, it pays well, and it’s remote. that’s all i care about for now.”

you two meet at a nearby bar. outside of his suit and tie, he looked much younger. he looks like the izuku you knew half a decade ago with his perpetual pink cheeks, slightly too large graphic tee, and red sneakers.

“so you’re now living with your sister… in the city.” he begins, looking into your eyes with a hopeful gleam. “for how long?”

“i’m not sure.” you shrug. “i’m still figuring it out, but my lease back home is up at the end of next month, so either way, i have to see what i want to do by then.”

“you should stay in the city.” the words slipped out of his mouth before he could process them.

“i mean- it’s just, you know, your sister is here, and her kids, and there’s more opportunities and stuff, and your work is remote anyways, and uh-” he stammers, words flowing out in an unstoppable stream.

“-and you’re here?” you tease.

his face flushes red.

“it is a possibility.” you sigh, shooting him a subtle smirk and saving him the embarrassment of coming up with a response. “i don’t know though. my sister wants me to stay too, but it’s a lot to think about.”

“i get it. my mom moved to the city to be near. it was hard for her.” he takes a sip of his drink. “not with me, though! she’s got a townhouse in the outskirts.” he quips.

you laugh. he definitely hasn't changed.

“speaking of, do you want to come back to my apartment? right now?” he shyly asks, avoiding your gaze for a moment.

“right now?” you look down and check the time displayed on your phone.

11:00pm.

“it’s a school night isn’t it?” you cock your head to the side. "i'm surprised you even wanted to meet up this late. thought i'd have to book office hours with you weeks in advance to catch up." you tease

izuku mentally curses at himself for being so forgetful, and so predictable. he doesn’t want this night with you to end, but that 7:00am alarm set for tomorrow morning is inching closer and closer.

“you’re right.” his confidence deflates. “i guess we should get going.”

you two pay your tab and make your way to the exit. you stand facing each other at the corner of the street, taking in each other’s presence once more.

there’s a faint buzzing in your ear from the lamppost hanging above you and your breaths come out in shallow puffs. you don’t know why you’re so nervous all of the sudden. you wish you didn’t have to leave again.

“so, can we do this again? can i see you again?” he asks, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“you think i’d get to see izuku midoriya from beyond the grave and let you get away? for the second time?”

he feels like he could cry right now, so he pulls you in for a hug instead. you haven’t changed at all- not in the ways that matter anyways. his hand falls against the nape of your neck as he presses his cheek against your forehead.

“i missed you.” he mutters into your hair.

“me more.”

before you go your separate ways, i love you sits at the tip of his tongue. he wants to tell you. to finally say back after all of these years, but it somehow doesn’t feel right- not yet at least.

a few weeks later, you find yourself sitting in one of izuku’s classroom desks. the top button of his shirt is undone, his sleeves rolled up, and the soft late afternoon sunlight streaming through his window bathes him in gold.

from over your laptop screen, you see izuku mumbling to himself as he reads through essays while twirling a red pen between his fingers. the look of concentration had been plastered to his face since you were students- dark furrowed brows, unblinking eyes, a twinge of anxiety, and tightly pressed lips.

“you’re staring.” he mutters in between his incoherent mumbles.

his eyes snap up to meet yours.

“no i’m not.” you shrug, suppressing a satisfied smile as your eyes return to your own screen.

“I think i’ve gotten pretty good at noticing after spending all those years with you in that library.” he returns the smile, leaning back in his seat. “you don’t stare often, but when you do, you stare loud.”

“says you.” you roll your eyes. “you don’t think i ever noticed the thousand glances every hour?”

his face scrunches in embarrassment.

“not like i could help myself.” he mutters, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck.

“ditto.” you halfway close your laptop and rest your head on a propped elbow. “but you knew that.”

the air in the room thickens between you two. you’ve been itching to have a conversation with izuku about your last moments before you left the city 5 years ago, but there hasn’t been a good time to bring it up. you weren’t even sure if you should at all.

“i don’t think i ever noticed.”

“noticed what?”

“that you liked me.” he pressed his lips together, nervous to bring up the past. “like that at least. i didn’t have a clue before you took me to that party.”

“how could you?” you breathe out a chuckle. “you were drowning in your work and studies, there was no time to even sleep let alone have anything romantic.”

a beat of silence passes.

“sorry.” he mutters.

“don’t be.” you shrug. "i loved you enough for the both of us. you were my best friend, and i wouldn’t change anything. maybe i would’ve forced you to take more naps, though.” you chuckle.

he doesn’t like the past tense termage of this conversation. it makes him feel a bit nauseous thinking that he really did lose it all, even with you here in front of him.

“i told you i felt the same, didn’t i?”

“mmm.. i guess so.” you mutter. “but it’s different. it was a goodbye.”

“i’m sorry.” he says again, with a pout this time.

“stop that.” you launch your pen in his direction, bouncing off of the chalk board behind him. “i’m here now. you’re here. you’re still my best friend. everything’s the same, except we’re a little bit older and have 5 years to catch up on. isn’t that enough?”

you two danced around the conversation for a few more minutes before returning to your work in silence. there was no clear answer as to where your feelings for each other stand now, but he feels just as sick as he did the day of the grad party.

but isn’t that enough? to just have you here now?

on a saturday night in his apartment, just days before you have to go home and sort out your living situation, izuku tells you he loves you for the first time.

you’re staring at him, unsure if maybe you heard him wrong or if it was the television in the background.

“huh?” your mouth gapes open. “what’d you say?”

“i..i love you.” his voice shakes as the words leave his mouth. “i love you, okay?”

for a split second, there’s a sequence of images that flash through his mind. his body would learn to wake up at 6:55am every morning despite his alarm being set for 7:00am. he sees you peacefully sleeping next to him, and he can’t bring himself to let that alarm go off and disturb you.

he’d start the coffee pot- enough for two, obviously. maybe he’d leave a nice note for you to start your day off with. maybe a grocery list if you’re up for the trip, but you’d insist that you go to the market together on the weekend. you’re very distracting, and he knows this, but you’d somehow always meet at the dining room table or his classroom to do work together.

he’d come home to you softly singing in the kitchen while making dinner. every now and then, he’d surprise you with flowers when he comes home from work, but he’ll brush it off and say it’s “for the apartment” just out of pure nerves. movie nights. falling asleep on the couch together. waking up in the afternoon with a split second of panic- but it’s the weekend and he doesn’t have a class to get to. he’d see the sunlight pool against your face as you slowly wake up from your slumber with fluttering eyelashes. he’d kiss you in that unsuspecting moment. he’d say he loves you with every breath leaving his lungs. he’d always have time for you.

“izuku.” you sadly smile, turning over to the stove and extinguishing the flame. “you don’t have to do this, you know?”

his heart sinks to his stomach.

“i know- no it’s not like that.” he stammers. “it’s because.. i’m saying it because…”

he makes his way around the kitchen island to you, firmly gripping your shoulders. he wants to make sure you hear this from him properly. after all of these years.

“because i love you, and i think i alway have.” he bites his bottom lip. “and i think i always will, and you’re here, and i’m here, and i know it’s hard because i kind of really messed things up in university, but to be honest, i regret everything because yeah i love my job and i’m doing okay now, but i lost you for 5 years and thought i’d never get to see you again and i should've-”

he stops himself when he sees his reflection in your eyes. he’s doing it again- the rambling.

“sorry.” he mutters. “but do you…do you understand?” he almost pleads.

“i understand.” you nod your head, a long exhale following your reply.

for a moment, you’re 22 again, and the tears in his eyes threatening to spill over are no longer apologetic, but now hopeful.

you can’t help but pull him into a hug, running your hand up and down his back as he sniffs back his tears.

“always such a crybaby, izuku.” you muffle into his shoulder. “i love you, too. you know that.”

“i feel so stupid.” he chokes out. “5 years is so long, and i feel like i blacked out for the entirety of that time and now that you’re back, i’m alive and can't do it without you again.”

he pulls away, looking back at you with furrowed brows and tear stained cheeks.

“please stay in the city. please.”

your eyes widen at the request- the same request you wished left his lips all those years ago.

“you want me to stay?”

“selfishly, yes.” he bites down on his bottom lip. “here. with me.”

you take a moment and let your eyes wander around the apartment. you eye the half cooked dinner on the stove, the pile of unopened mail sitting on the counter, the row of dead plants lining the living room window.

izuku follows your eyes. he knows you’d settle in nicely, almost like the final piece in a puzzle. he feels it in his gut. he also feels the panic bubbling in his stomach the longer your gaze lingers at the chaos behind him.

“is that too fast?” he breaks the silence. “sorry. i don’t mean to jump from ‘i love you’ to ‘move in with me’ in the same night.” he awkwardly laughs, releasing you from his grip. “uh, maybe we’ll talk more about that after dinner.”

his face burns into a bright red- snapping out of his love dazed state and back into the reality where he just confessed to his best friend on a random night in.

“maybe after dinner, you can give me a proper tour of the place?”

for the first time in izuku's life, he feels content knowing that time passes and the world continues to turn.

with you, it feels a bit gentler.

with you, it's worth it.

bonus ssrryy i have to be indulgent lmao:

the first time izuku kisses you, you're on your way back from a late night outing from the bars with his coworkers where he introduces you as his partner for the first time.

"you sure you're okay?" he laughs as you rub your hand against the back of his neck from the passenger seat.

"super peachy, zuku." you hiccup, twirling a green curl between your fingers. "a few drinks got nothing on me."

izuku presses his lip into a wobbly smile.

from his peripheral, he feels your stare burning into his side profile, only making him more nervous by the second. he thinks about teasing you and calling it out for a moment, but he remains silent for the rest of the drive back home.

izuku parks the car, shutting off the engine and letting the overhead light dimly illuminated the space between you two.

he leans over to meet your eyes and rests his elbow over the center console, taking a second to silently debrief from the night's social outing.

"thanks for coming out with me." he whispers, reaching down and shyly interlocking his index finger with yours.

"i love a good excuse to drink." you laugh, leaning in and letting your foreheads connect.

izuku only had a single drink several hours ago, but he suddenly blacks out. with his other hands, he reaches up and tips your chin up and lock his lips with yours.

it takes you off guard, but you don't hesitate to reach up and rest your hand on the side of his neck.

when izuku pulls away, his breathing is heavy and face grows red. your finger remains interlocked.

"um. i love you." he coughs, briefly meeting your gaze before darting away. "uh, sorry i should have asked" he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck.

"i love you, izuku midoriya." you say in a teasing tone, leaning further over the center console and into the driver's seat.

izuku leans away until his back hits the soft interior of the car door.

"uh, we should.. we should go in? right?" he starts, eyes widening as you inch closer.

you reach over and grab the collar of his shirt, pulling him into you.

"yeah, we should." you say before crashing your lips into his, feeling him accept the defeat with a nervous laugh as he lets his hands find the soft skin of your cheek and warmth of your neck.

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ellecdc · 8 months ago

Note

I have been summoned by the Poly!Wolfstar notification!!!!

I’m always a goner for brother’s best friend trope and this time it’s best friends so literally double the fun ☺️ This is just so soft and adorable pls you’re spoiling us, queen!

Part 2 where they tell Jamie and he actually already knew? Cause the joke is always James can be oblivious most of the time, but they don’t know it doesn’t apply to his sister so he already knew, most likely even before she knew herself cause he’s a sweet brother like that.

*sigh* I want a big brother

Love you queen! 💕

hahaha awe you're so right babes. it's really funny because I have this request and then the exact opposite version of this request - so it will be fun to write the other one too! it'll take me a lot longer though, angst always does.

part one here - but can be read as a stand alone

poly!wolfstar x potter!reader - you & the boys tell James

“You’re going to wear a hole in the rug there, dolly.” Sirius drawled in faux nonchalance as the two of you waited in the boys’ dorm room for Remus to return with James.

You were going to do it. Today. You were going to tell your brother you were dating his two best friends.

No big deal, right?

Except it was a big deal and you were absolutely losing your bloody mind.

And then your boyfriend had the audacity to be sitting on his bed, leaning against the headboard, casually telling you to relax like he wasn’t also shaking in his boots Doc Marten’s.

Remus had volunteered to be the one to retrieve James for the lot of you. Mostly because you would have likely broken down in a mental state if it had been you, and Sirius likely would have blurted it out on his way up the stairs.

The door clicked and you could hear the quiet mumbling of your boyfriend and the much louder mumbling of your brother as the two entered the room. Based on the smiles on their faces, particularly James’ who eyes crinkled in delight, they were talking about something funny.

“Oh! Hey bug.” James called to you, seeming surprised you were here but not perturbed. “Hey Pads; Moony said you guys wanted to talk?”

Remus stayed standing near the door and you paused in your nervous pacing whilst Sirius scooted to the end of his bed, elbows on his knees and feet resting on his school trunk.

James didn’t look at all disturbed or uncomfortable. In fact, he looked completely at ease, here in the room with three of his favourite people in the whole world. Remus, the person who he goes to when he needs to feel grounded. Sirius, his best friend and partner in crime. And you, his twin sister and other half.

What were you doing here?

Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe you shouldn’t tell him. This could ruin him; this had the potential to ruin three of James’ most precious relationships. How could you have been so selfish? He didn’t need to know, the least the three of you could do is keep this to yourself. Abort, abort, abort.

“So?” James asked, looking around at everyone with a raised eyebrow. “Are you finally going to tell me the three of you are dating?”

You were sure your heart stopped. Remus blew out an exasperated laugh and Sirius choked on air.

“You knew!?” Sirius screeched.

James smirked and shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah?”

“How?” You whispered.

James’ face softened significantly when he took in your face that was drained of all colour. “Well, Pads here is about as subtle as an erumpent. Moony has been mooning over you since like third year. And I’d have to be blind – do not joke about my eyesight – not to notice the way you look at them.” He offered simply.

“So, you’ve known all this time and just let us tiptoe around?” Sirius asked, sounding a little miffed – at his friend for allowing him to make a fool of himself, or at his apparent lack of discrepancy, you weren’t sure.

“I figured you guys would tell me when you were ready.” James said simply again.

“Are you mad?” Remus asked quietly, pointedly looking at you ask he asked. He knew this was your biggest fear, the potential fallout. You weren’t sure what you’d do if James refused to accept your relationship with Remus and Sirius. You couldn’t bear the thought of breaking up their friend group; three people would lose if that was the case, but it would only hurt you if you were the one to step away.

“No.” James said as he moved his head back and forth slightly. “I guess I was hurt you didn't tell me, but I could also understand why you didn’t. But no, I’m not mad.”

You blew out a breath at that, but it came out incredibly shaky. Unfortunately for you, no one in the room missed it.

“Awe bug. I’m sorry.” James said as he stood and offered his open arms to you. You took him up on his offer and accepted his hug, leaning your head onto his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Jamie.”

“Don’t be, yeah? I’m happy for you, really.” He assured, rubbing roughly on your back.

“Yeah?” You asked as you pulled back to look at him. You couldn’t see any contradictions on his face, only love.

“’Course. You’re the best, and I want the best for you.” He shook your shoulders a little, smiling like ‘did you seriously think otherwise?’

“Are they good to you?” He whispered, and though you knew your werewolf boyfriend and your canine animagus boyfriend could both likely hear the conversation, they allowed this moment to be yours and James’ alone.

“So good, Jamie. Promise.” You said, feeling tears prick at your eyes.

“You’ll tell me if they’re not?”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, but James wouldn’t let you pull away as you wont to do. “I wouldn’t involve you in it, James. They were your friends first; I’m not going to come between you.”

James’ brows furrowed a little as he seemed to ponder your words. “Perhaps...but you were my sister first. If anything, they’d be coming between us.”

You opted to smile at your brother and pinch his side like you knew he hated. “Never. That’s impossible.”

At that he finally let you go, returning your smile ten-fold. “That’s what I’ve been trying to say! So? Are we good?” He asked, turning to the rest of the room.

Remus had a proud and slightly emotional smile on his face while Sirius just stared between the two of you, eyes narrowed and eyebrows furrowed.

“I’m sorry. What just happened?” He finally spat.

Remus groaned and rubbed a hand over his face. “Sirius, please. This went about as well as we could have hoped.”

James’ head popped up at that. “Oh! Sorry, did I make that too easy on you all?”

Sirius let out a scoff that sounded like “uhm, duh?”

“I could make it harder on you?” James offered.

“Please do.” Sirius said eagerly, causing you and Remus to groan in sync.

James offered a quick ‘okay’ and cleared his throat, allowing silence to settle throughout the room as he picked up a stray book off his school trunk.

Suddenly, he threw the book onto the ground, creating a booming thump. “MY SISTER!? ARE YOU KIDDING? YOU’RE DATING MY SISTER!?”

“JAMES PLEASE, JUST HEAR US OUT!” Sirius shouted back just as passionately.

James scoffed in derision. “HEAR YOU OUT? HEAR YOU OUT. I THINK I’VE HEARD ENOUGH!”

“YOU CAN’T KEEP US APART!”

“I CAN AND I WILL. HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME!? I THOUGHT THIS FRIENDSHIP MEANT SOMETHING TO YOU.”

“IT MEANS EVERYTHING TO ME!” Sirius called back, dropping to his knees on the floor in front of James.

You shared a look with Remus as the theatrics continued, knowing this could go on for hours.

“Should we leave them to their drama?” Remus asked you.

“Please.” You nearly begged, taking his hand and exiting the dorm, catching one last sentence before the door clicked shut behind you.

“I’M IN LOVE WITH HER, JAMES!”

“I DON’T CA- wait are you really? That's so cute!”

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hard-core-super-star · 1 month ago

Text

push me on the counter, call me princess [W.Maximoff; N.Romanoff]

pairing: dom!wanda maximoff x sub!reader x dom!natasha romanoff

summary: you and wanda develop a connection you definitely shouldn't have with someone in a relationship. unbeknowst to you, it's all part of their plan.

warnings: PURE SMUT, MINORS DO NO INTERACT -> mentions of cheating! [no actual cheating, though! wandanat have an agreement, R doesn't know about it until things get spicy]; mommy + daddy kink; nipple play; impact play; wanda using her powers to hold R down; fingering [R receiving]; oral [Nat receiving]; twinges of humiliation; degradation + praise; nat's a little mean but we love her for it; use of the term 'slut'; probably more but i forgot

wordcount: 3.3k

a/n: so...i'm technically not doing anything official for kinktober this year because school is kicking my butt already BUT i have a few ideas for some very filthy smut fics so i'll be posting them this month. i haven't written for wandanat in a minute so i hope i did them justice. please let me know your thoughts, i hope you enjoy <3

* * * * * * *

It was supposed to be a one time thing.

That's what you told Wanda when she pushed you against the farthest wall in some dingy, badly-lit, New York bar.

The two of you had come back from a long, draining, mission and, instead of staying at the Compound and actually resting, you decided to go out and get drunk to let off some steam. The mission had technically been a success, but it had also been a pain in the ass...and in the shoulder, thanks to the knife wound you'd received.

So, yeah, maybe going out wasn't the best idea in the first place.

In your defense, it was borderline impossible to say no to the witch. Mainly because she was very convincing when she wanted to be, but also because of your massive, and borderline ridiculous, crush on her.

To make matters worse, Wanda was pissed off at Natasha for...something and you ended up taking the place of a supportive partner.

It would have been fine had the drinks in your system not made your inhibitions lower significantly, which rendered you helpless against the green-eyed woman of your dreams. Then again, it's not like you were particularly against that idea in the first place.

Maybe that made you a horrible person.

Maybe that made Wanda a monster.

But how could she be one when she whispered the sweetest words in your ear while taking you over the edge and destroying you in the most pleasurable of ways? How could there be anything wrong about her soft caresses and gentle smiles?

A part of you knows the answer. It's wrong because the witch's heart isn't yours. Or worse, because someone else's heart belongs to the witch.

Because for all their problems and arguments, Wanda and Natasha love each other. At the very least, they tolerate each other enough to stay together.

And you don't fit into their relationship.

You shouldn't.

But Wanda isn't a person you can just ignore.

She makes that perfectly clear no less than a week after your little "mistake".

You're in the kitchen at the Compound, eating some leftovers and scrolling through your phone to keep yourself occupied, when Wanda walks in. You don't need to look at her to know she's pissed off. Her energy is way too heavy to mean anything else.

"Hey, Wands," you say, barely looking up from your phone out of fear of falling under her spell once more.

She walks over to you, leaning against the counter and silently watching you for a second. Her silence honestly scares you, but you don't question her yet. You know better than that.

"You've been avoiding me," she says, her voice soft yet not gentle. "Why is that?"

A shiver runs down your spine at the question.

You know you can't lie to her, she's a freaking mind reader, but you can't exactly tell her the truth. You've both been trying to ignore it since the morning you woke up tangled together in her bed.

A bed she shares with someone who isn't you.

"I've been busy," you reply with a shrug. "Kate's been forcing me to train every day."

Clearly, that's the wrong answer, considering the tilt of her head.

Yup. You're fucked now.

"Is that so? I didn't realize you two were such good...friends."

Wanda pushes herself off the counter, taking slow, calculated, steps until she's standing behind you. If you weren't so focused on keeping your voice steady, you might have been able to guess what her plan in.

"Well, we both love annoying Clint and making Yelena mad."

She hums in response as her arms wrap themselves around you, pulling you back until you're firmly pressed against her.

The action almost makes you fall off your stool. You somehow stay put, though, even as every fiber of your being tells you to leave. The harsh truth is that you don't want to leave.

You want her so badly that the consequences don't seem to matter.

Nothing matters but her.

Which is exactly what she wants.

"You should be careful with the little archer," she says, her hands not so subtly caressing your sides. "You know she's just going to use you then throw you away when she's bored."

The irony in her words isn't lost on you.

You open your mouth to let her know that when her hands move up and brush against your chest. It takes all your willpower to stop yourself from gasping.

"Wanda," you hiss. "We're in the middle of the kitchen."

"Relax, detka," she whispers into your ear, your body instantly obeying her words. "You know I won't let anyone see."

"Do I?" you reply. "Because it seems exactly like something you'd enjoy."

The witch chuckles despite herself. "That's true but you're not the only trying to keep things a secret."

You know her words should make you feel worse about this whole thing but right now, they only serve to turn you on. As messed up as it is, there's something exciting about the situation.

About how much Wanda wants you.

So, even though you know you should push her away, you lean back against her, allowing her hands to explore your body however she wishes.

Your obedience (if you can even call it that) is instantly rewarded by the other woman. Her hands sneak their way under your shirt, her fingers drawing teasing shapes on your warm skin as she makes the journey upward.

"You're such a good girl for me, baby," she mumbles almost absent-mindedly. "Letting me use you like this. Letting me play with you whenever I want."

A part of you wants to put up a fight. To show her you have a bigger backbone than she realizes. That you're able to switch the tables on her whenever you want.

Unfortunately, that part of you goes quiet the second her fingers find your nipples. "Look at you, all ready for me, huh?"

"Shut up," you mumble as your cheeks heat up.

Your words of defiance earn you a sharp pinch to your already sensitive nipples. "Watch your mouth, sweetheart."

It's impossible to stop your back from arching as the leftover sting rushes through your system. You'd learned the hard way that Wanda could either be the sweetest or the most unforgivable lover. In a way, it made being with her all the more exciting...and unpredictable.

Then again, you can't pretend you don't like it. If you didn't, you would have never gotten mixed up with her in the first place.

"Sorry," you whisper, not sounding particularly sincere.

If Wanda notices, she doesn't point it out and instead goes right back to playing with your chest, squeezing and pinching your nipples as she pleases.

Her actions only serve to make you more and more desperate for her. It's almost embarrassing how good she is at reading you. At knowing exactly what buttons to push to turn you into a shaking, pleading mess.

A part of you knows it's thanks to her powers that she can read your desires so well, but you ignore the thought for now. You could beat yourself up over all this later, right now, you had a very important task ahead of you.

"You're eager today," she teases, her eyes zeroing in on the slight movement of your hips. "Did you miss me that much?"

You're not sure why you're in such a defiant mood today but your mouth moves way faster than your thoughts. "Yeah, Kate was too busy today."

You don't see the scarlet that begins to overtake her eyes since you have your back to her. You miss the warning signs until she uses her magic to bend you over the counter, keeping your hands behind your back.

"You're going to regret talking to me like that," she says, holding you down easily thanks to her magic.

It's obvious you should apologize and yet you remain as composed as you possibly can given the situation. As stupid as it is, you're still mad at her for putting you in this situation.

Out of the two of you, she was the one who was in the wrong. She was the one fucking up her relationship just because she was upset with her girlfriend. And she had the audacity to pull you down with her.

To make you like it.

You couldn't place all the blame on her and yet you did it anyway. As if that would somehow fix the entire situation.

Her hand comes down on your ass before you can make your predicament worse. The sudden sensation makes you jump, the leftover sting taking over your mind.

"Wanda." Your attempt to sound mad falls completely flat since your voice is far too breathless for it to be convincing.

She spanks you again. Once. Twice. Each time striking both harder and faster.

"Try again, detka," she tells you, her voice unforgiving. "And then maybe, I'll go easy on you."

She won't.

You know she won't. But the idea that she could is more than tantalizing enough.

Although, then again, it wasn't like you didn't enjoy calling her by her beloved title.

"Mommy," you whisper, your voice sounding way too loud in the empty kitchen.

You don't need to be looking at her to see the proud grin that takes over her features.

This is the real reason why she wants you. Why she likes being with you. Because she doesn't need to fight you to get you to submit to her every whim.

"Good girl." Wanda's hands toy with the waistband of your pants. "Tell me what you want."

You allow the silence to drag on for a second longer than necessary. You both know you won't deny her, you can't, but that doesn't mean you can't keep her guessing.

Maybe then she'll grow tired of you and stop using you so carelessly.

"Want you to touch me...please, mommy."

You half expect her to drag the moment out until you can't hold yourself back from begging for more. For her.

She doesn't, though, because unbeknownst to you, she's playing a different kind of game with you today.

Wanda uses her powers to undress you, barely giving you a second to register just how vulnerable she's leaving you. You know no one will walk in on you two, she promised you that much, but that doesn't make it any less scary...and thrilling.

"Look at you," she coos, her fingers spreading your slick folds. "So wet and I've barely even touched you. Such a needy thing, aren't you, sweetheart?"

It's embarrassing how hard your walls clench around pure air from the mere tone of her voice. It's that intoxicating mix between degrading and sweet that you want everything she's willing to give you.

"Yes, mommy," you whimper.

"Oh, I know," she says, pushing the tip of her index finger into your tight cunt. "She's such a good girl, isn't she?"

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion but her powers hold you down and stop you from turning to look at her. Your question is answered before you can even ask it, though, as a certain pair of black boots make their way into your field of vision.

"I'm not sure." The sound of Natasha's voice sends a shiver down her spine. "She looks like a desperate slut to me."

Wanda stops you from answering, thanks to her powers. "Oh, come on, Nat, don't be mean. Look how eager she is to be played with."

The redhead rolls her eyes. "That just proves my point."

The witch laughs, taking the moment to sink her finger deeper into your pussy, relishing the wet sounds that fill the kitchen. You're more than a little humiliated, but there's nothing you can do to stop it. Worse, there's nothing you can do to deny how wet the situation is making you.

How desperate you are for more.

Wanda knows. Of course, she knows. It's partly because of her powers and partly because she knows your body far too well. And because she knows you so well, she gives you a chance to call the whole thing off before it even truly starts.

"What's your color, y/n?"

It would be so easy to say "red" and stop everything. You know there would be zero judgement. That despite whatever agreement they've come to, they'd both take a step back and make sure you were okay.

And yet...you can't seem to form the word.

Because, as much as you don't want to admit it...you want this.

"Green..." you whisper.

Wanda leans in, taking your mind off of Natasha's eyes on you, and peppers soft kisses across your back. The softness of her lips is a stark contrast to her previous demeanor and it helps calm down your speeding nerves.

The Russian steps forward, her hand cupping your face and gently tilting it backward until your eyes meet. "You want this, don't you, darling?"

You don't want to admit it but you can't bring yourself to lie to her. "Yes...I want this."

The sharpness in her eyes fades away slightly. There's still an edge of annoyance in her features but she looks almost as turned on as you feel. "Good girl."

Your walls clench around Wanda's finger and she chuckles before starting to move in and out of your tight heat. "I think she likes you, Nat."

"Shut up."

Wanda adds another finger into the mix, expertly stretching you out and drawing out a long moan from your parted lips. "That's it, just give in, sweetheart. Doesn't it feel better when you stop thinking so much?"

It's startling how right she is.

She doesn't wait for an answer this time, though, she simply speeds up her movements, curling her fingers in the way that drives you crazy. The pleasure slowly overwhelms your mind, removing all other thoughts until all you can focus on is how good it all feels. How much you like submitting to them like this.

"Mommy..." You whine, watching the way Natasha's eyes darken in response to your sounds. "Please...need more."

"Aw, are two fingers not enough for you, baby?" The fake pity in her tone turns you on more than it should. "Does your greedy pussy need more?"

You nod desperately, ignoring the humiliation that lingers in your every move.

All that earns you is another laugh from Wanda and an eye roll from Natasha.

The redhead steps back from you, causing you to whimper, before her hands move to her belt. Her eyes remain on yours as she starts removing her garments, slowly revealing the red strap-on resting between her legs.

Your lips part almost instantly once you catch sight of the full size of it and just how incredibly dominant it makes Natasha look. You shouldn't be surprised considering what everyone, including Wanda, always say about her. Then again, seeing is believing.

"So fucking eager, aren't you?" You know the Russian is technically making fun of you, but you can't help feeling a bit proud of yourself for the grin on her face.

She steps forward, her hands coming up to tangle in your hair and guide you forward. There's something weirdly soft about her movements, about the way she takes her time with you. Maybe, just maybe, she likes you more than she's let on.

You wrap your lips around the head of the dildo, your eyes glued to Natasha's face. You can see the flecks of pleasure spreading across her features, the way she clenches her jaw to stop herself from vocalizing it. It's like you're stuck in a far too arousing competition with her. Each of you trying your damn harderst to break the other.

Unfortunately for you, you also have Wanda working behind you, her fingers restlessly pumping in and out of your soaked entrance. She knows exactly how to wind you up.

Exactly how to keep you on your toes yet wanting more.

Natasha guides you further down her cock, working the length deeper into your mouth. "You look so much better like this, malyshka."

"I told you," Wanda pipes up, choosing that exact moment to work another finger into your tight heat. "You just wanted to be a party pooper."

"Keep talking like that and you'll be next, Maximoff."

"You're no fun."

You've never heard Wanda like this. So pouty and borderline bratty. It's a stark contrast to the dominant woman you've grown so attached to. To the one that turns your brain to putty with just a few words.

"Don't get any ideas, sweetheart. Mommy's still in charge here."

You moan in response, the sound muffled by the dildo currently stuffing your mouth.

"If you're Mommy," Natasha says, starting to thrust into your mouth. "Does that make me Daddy?"

You try to voice your approval for the title but neither of the women pay attention to you. They just keep talking like you're not even there, like all you are is a toy for them to play with.

"I thought you didn't like being called that."

The redhead shrugs in response. "I don't but now I'm curious."

"I think our good girl would like it."

You wait for Natasha to complain and say something about how you aren't theirs. Maybe make fun of you again for even thinking they'd ever entertain that idea.

She doesn't, though.

All she does is double her efforts as she keeps thrusting into your mouth.

The kitchen fills with the sounds of your pleasure as they both play with your needy holes.

You feel yourself growing closer and closer to the edge, the coil in your stomach getting tighter with each one of their well-timed thrusts. You're completely at their mercy and you love every second of their never-ending show of dominance.

Of control over you.

Wanda's movements speed up and you do your best to ask for permission to cum, knowing all too well the consequences that would await you if you forgot. It's practically impossible to speak, though, considering the way Natasha is still thrusting into your mouth, her hips grinding against the base of the dildo each time she slips the length back inside.

"I know, baby," the witch reassures you. "You want to cum so bad, don't you?"

All she gets is a muffled whine in response, your body jerking forward when her thumb teases your swollen clit.

"Go ahead, darling," Natasha speaks up, her voice practically a low growl. "Cum all over Mommy's fingers for me."

You're not used to receiving such a command from the redhead and yet your body reacts immediatly to her tone. Your whole body seems to come alive as you fall over the edge, Wanda's fingers never ceasing in their movements. She expertly draws out your pleasure until you're left shaking and panting.

The ringing in your ears doesn't allow you to hear the string of moans that leave Natasha's mouth as she watches the scene. The sight of you coming undone so violently causes her to fall apart, her fingers tightening in your hair until you're sputtering for air.

Thankfully, Wanda knows your limits well.

No words are exchanged as she uses her magic on you again. You're barely coherent, your mind still too muddled by pure pleasure and the cotton-filled haze of submission.

She gently sets you down on the couch, wiping down your soaked skin with a wet cloth, making sure to look you over in case their rough movements bruised you up.

"You okay, darling?" The witch asks as she settles down next to you.

You nod in response, shifting a little until your head rests in her lap. "Yeah...just tired."

"You should get some rest, detka. We have a lot to talk about."

Her words make you laugh. "That's an understament, Wands."

"Whatever." She moves her hand down to run her fingers through your hair, gently scratching your scalp as sleep overcomes you.

There's a lot you don't understand, a lot you really figure out, but you feel safe with the knowledge that you haven't ruined anything. That you're not an intruder in their relationship. If anything, you're a welcome addition.

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